The Nameless War

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The Nameless War Page 3

by Edmond Barrett


  The sickbay had finally given a toll on their losses; ten of the crew were now known to be dead, nineteen were seriously injured. Worse still two members of the ships civilian science crew were missing. They had been in a section that had been opened up to space; Crowe could only pray that they had been already dead before the remaining pressure had blown them out. The alternative was literally the stuff of nightmares. Finally three ratings were still trapped in B turret; so far Berg hadn’t been able to spare a damage control team to cut the buckled hatch out of its frame. With the ship’s crew compliment virtually gutted, any walking wounded personnel were having the stay on duty, the ship simply didn’t have enough healthy crew left to run without them.

  Sub Lieutenant Mamista had reported that number one missile turret was completely jammed by a fortunately uncharged, missile that had more or less been mashed into the loading system. Number two missile turret was also jammed but the sub lieutenant was confident it could be released by, to quote, ‘brute force and unreasoning violence’. The work on the Jump drive was continuing slowly, but on track. Crowe would have liked to be able to allow some of his crew to stand down from action stations, but the speed of the first two attacks made clear that if there was a further missile, seconds would count. That meant that the crew had, in most cases remained sealed up into their suits.

  Of their attacker they saw nothing. Despite fatigue and tension the operators of the passive arrays barely blinked as they hunched over their consoles. What remained of the science crew analysed the reading taken from the missiles. Crowe didn’t expect their analysis to yield any immediate results but it didn’t hurt to try.

  Two and a quarter hours after the attack Crowe felt his bridge crew start to relax. Everyone was still razor sharp, but the atmosphere of fear was starting to lift. The navigator was starting to make the necessary calculations to work out the most efficient course back to Baden Base. The air on the bridge was getting fairly stale as the recyclers operated at minimum power. With the centrifuge only freewheeling, gravity had dropped to about half Earth normal. Crowe and Berg had been stood at the back of the bridge quietly discussing damage control priorities, but now Crowe stood silently, looking around his bridge, listened to the hum of equipment, sounds of his crew; committing it all to memory. For five years this had been his bridge. For five years he’d pushed back the borders of space. He’d seen good times on this bridge, but those days were over now. To hope otherwise would be a lie.

  "How the hell am I going to explain this one to H.Q. Commander?" He asked quietly as he stared down the length of the bridge to the main holo.

  "You followed the rules of engagement to the letter, sir, they can’t fault you for that." She replied.

  "You can always be faulted Commander. There are elements of the Council that have never wanted Battlefleet ships on exploration duty. They fear that a trigger-happy soldier would start another war. This will play right into the hands of those elements."

  "They didn’t communicate with us, sir, they just fired. It’s not too much of a stretch to say that they would have shot at a Science Directorate or national ship."

  "We must have missed something Carol. We must have. People don’t open fire without a reason."

  "Humans sometimes do skipper. Aliens? Who knows?" Berg replied with a shrug, then grimaced as her wounded arm objected.

  Crowe didn’t respond, instead he continued to stare into space.

  "What are you thinking, sir?"

  "I’m wondering what the hell to tell the families. Twelve people are dead and I have no idea why.“ Crowe shook his head and added flatly, “Someone will have to be held responsible. You’ve been a good first officer Carol, I’ll do my best to ensure this doesn’t hurt you career."

  Berg seemed shocked at the despair in her captain’s voice and unsure how to respond.

  There was a sudden beep from the passive array control console.

  "Contact! Baring two-oh-seven dash two-six-four!" The operator shouted out. “It’s coming out of our blind spot.”

  "Is it a missile?" Crowe asked sharply springing forward.

  "The system doesn’t think so, sir. Profile does not match that of the first two. The contact is decelerating; I’m reading a larger engine burn but a much shallower acceleration curve. I can’t be sure, sir, but I think it’s a ship."

  "We thought the first one was a ship PO, bring up the projected track on the main display." Crowe ordered. With the first beep from the sensors he had suddenly felt adrenaline fizz through his veins, blowing through his despair. Despair would return but for the moment it was sidelined.

  A blue line appeared on the main holo display. Crowe immediately noted with relief that the track did not intersect with the Mississippi’s projected course. But it was going to get close, too damn close.

  "It’s going for the debris field. Probably to see if there is anything interesting left of us." Berg said. "That is going to have them coming to rest relative to us. It’s not quite going to be course convergence, but the range will be less than two hundred and fifty clicks and-"

  "And if they had more than three brain cells to rub together, they’ll realise that isn’t enough debris for an entire starship. At that range they’ll see us even if all they do is look out the bloody window." Crowe finished sourly. "Navigator, how long till we’re out of the mass shadow?"

  "Another forty minutes, sir. The Chief says the Jump Drive will be on line in about fifty minutes."

  "No point sparking up the engines if the Jump Drive isn’t operational." Berg muttered.

  "Contact will be inside two hundred clicks in twenty six minutes, sir." The sensor operator called out.

  "Have we anything on visual yet?" Crowe asked.

  "We’re picking up the afterglow of their engines, but not the vessel itself, sir."

  Crowe sat down and looked up at Berg.

  "Any thoughts?"

  Berg carefully adjusted her arm in its sling.

  "The missiles went for the cargo modules rather than the main hull. The stealth coating on the hull might be fooling their radar… or whatever hell they’re using. If we play it cool, sir, we might be able to slip clear yet."

  "Two hundred clicks is well inside the effective range of visual scanners." Crowe replied as he glared at the holo.

  "That’s also well inside the effective range of our plasma cannons and missiles." Berg shook her head. "God I wish we had a railgun as well."

  "A railgun is a distinctly ‘take no prisoners’ weapon Commander." He replied as his mind raced looking for a way out. If bringing back a badly damaged ship was bad, then actively opening fire on an alien ship would be catastrophic. But there weren’t any alternatives. Unless their luck changed drastically for the better they were going to make contact. A distance of less than three hundred kilometres would be the starship equivalent of knife fighting range.

  "We don’t really have many choices Carol." Crowe conceded. "If we can drift clear we’ll do so, but if they give even a single indication that they have spotted us, we start shooting. This time no hesitation."

  He flicked on his intercom.

  "Sub Lieutenant Mamista, status report."

  "We’ve nearly cleared the auto loader on number two missile turret, sir. We might have reconnected C turret to central fire control, D turret is definitely still on local control.”

  "Might be reconnected sub?"

  "Sorry, sir, we won’t know till we turn the whole system back on, sir." Mamista replied apologetically.

  "All right sub, Order the gun crews to hand crank the turrets onto the target baring." Crowe ordered.

  "Hand crank, sir?"

  "We don’t want to put out any avoidable power signatures, sub." Crowe explained patiently.

  "Very good, sir. Fire control out."

  "Well that’s one positive thing." Berg commented. Crowe looked at her questioningly "I think our sub is working out well."

  "There is that, remind me to put in a good word for him later
."

  The two ventral turrets started to slowly swing round towards the approaching alien, Crowe once again forced himself to sit and wait. The alien ship slowly came into focus on the holo display. It was approximately wedge shaped rising to a tower arrangement toward the stern. On each side of the vessel were large cylindrical tanks, probably for fuel or cargo, each one was about a third the length of the hull. Just aft of them were out board engine assemblies each mounted on a short thick column.

  "Estimated length, sir, is between seventy and hundred and twenty metres." A sensor operator called out.

  "That’s pretty small to be lobbing fifteen metre missiles." Berg muttered. "It could just be a scout with the big guns behind it somewhere."

  "Or just carry very few reloads." Crowe replied.

  "Contact is continuing to decelerate, they will reach the outer edge of the debris field in seven minutes." The sensor operator announced.

  "With any luck they’ll be too interested in the wreckage to see us." Berg commented.

  Crowe nodded before clicking on his intercom.

  "Bridge to Chief Engineer."

  "Sir." Guinness responded after a moment.

  "Chief get back to engineering, I’m probably going to need to crash start the engines in a few minutes."

  "Roger that, sir. About to get a bit hairy is it?"

  "Something like that Chief. Bridge out."

  Several more minutes inched by. The alien ship had now come to a near halt within the debris field. The cameras caught the occasional glimpse of a robot arm reaching into the debris. The bridge of Mississippi, aside from the hum of machinery, was now absolutely silent. They watched their sensors intently as the alien ship continued to pick slowly through the remains of the cargo pod. Crowe kept his concentration focused on the visual display. It was unusual to get so close to an enemy ship that visual was useful. Space combat was mostly about firing at a radar blip. But here and now he could see the alien, and perhaps feel her captain’s mood. When the aliens engines were idling the ship was little more than indistinct grey shape. Then the engine pods would rotate on their mountings and fire for a moment throwing the ship into high relief. Slowly the alien investigated every piece of the pod that was bigger than a man’s fist. Suddenly the aliens engine pods spun and did a long burn. The ship turned to face Mississippi.

  "Shit! We’ve been spotted." Crowe snarled. "Start up sequence: targeting radar, search radar, weapons, engines, life support now!"

  "Captain! It has an aperture at the front, it matches the size of the missiles. Its hatch is closed." A sensor operator shouted.

  The alien had just made one hell of a mistake. They probably caught a faint signal from Mississippi’s hull and thought they were just another piece of wreckage. If they’d realised they had a ship within arm’s length they would have spun and fired or backed off. Instead they had started to approach, which meant that they were pointing their missile launcher right at Mississippi. It left Crowe with no options, open fire or lose the capacity. At this range the fight could only be short and vicious.

  "Guns charged."

  "Guns fire at will!" He barked into the command frequency.

  The three plasma cannons immediately stabbed out. Only one of the glowing green bolts hit the ship, striking high on the tower assembly. The bolt punched straight through the tower and exited from the back. No armour, Crowe thought as atmosphere gushed from the breaches.

  Four missiles, far smaller than the one that had near crippled them, streaked out of launchers set into the flanks of the alien. In unison they turned towards the Mississippi. The cruisers point defence immediately rattled into action, sending out a hail of explosive charges. The four missiles crossed the space between the two ships in seconds. The shrapnel from the point defence projectiles destroyed two of them. The other two hammered into the hull.

  "D Turret is hit!" Berg shouted.

  "Captain they’ve brought a targeting jammer on-line. It’s not powerful enough to effect main fire control but it going to screw with D turret!" Someone else shouted.

  Another plasma bolt spat from the Mississippi and punched into the alien ship, several seconds later a second bolt was fired. Crowe glanced towards the damage control board and cursed inwardly as a red light lit up beside one of D turret’s guns.

  The forward facing hatch cover on the alien ship started to open. The alien was going to fire one of the big anti-ship missiles. At this range there would be no chance of avoiding or intercepting the missile.

  "Guns! Target their forward launch bay!" Crowe ordered. The reply was a garbled affirmative. If the alien succeeded in hitting them with another big missile it would all be over. Another hit on that scale would probably cause the hull to fold.

  A shot from C turret knocked yet another hole in the alien’s hull. The alien had been hit at least six times, but clearly they hadn’t hit anything immediately vital. The launcher hatch was now completely open; from deep inside the launch bay came a deep orange glow. C turret fired again. It struck close to the launcher but as the glow continued to build, Crowe knew it hadn’t been close enough. The plasma cannon wouldn’t have recharged before the missile launched.

  The big missile erupted from its launcher at the same moment D turret, now completely out of step with C, fired. What happened next was almost too fast for the human eye. The glowing green bolt clipped the missile just as it left the launcher. The missile jolted sideways, then wobbled and finally started to cartwheel madly out of control. There were brief cheers on the Mississippi’s bridge as the missile tumbled away from them.

  Up to that point the alien had been holding a steady course, finally it started to take evasive action. Their engine pods rolled into a new position and fired, pitching the nose up. Mississippi started to roll to keep the alien in the fire arc of the remaining weapons.

  As the alien passed beneath the Mississippi it spat out another three small missiles. They were now so close that counter measures didn’t have time to fire off chaff rockets. Point defence destroyed one missile, the second burst against the armoured belt without effect the third went into the front of C turret.

  "C turret is off-line, sir!" Berg shouted as the ship shook from the impacts. That put them down to one partly working gun in D turret. However the alien was now also showing signs of serious damage. Plasma and atmosphere were leaking from several of the holes in the hull and the alien’s jammer, that had been wreaking such havoc with D turret ability to shoot straight, had ceased transmitting. Its engines though remained intact.

  Slowly the two ships twisted and turned around one another. With her wingtip thrusters, Mississippi should have been able to turn on a dime but they were mostly gone. Instead the cruiser was limited to slow lumbering turns, as the alien manoeuvred to stay outside the firing arc of Mississippi’s last gun.

  "Keep rolling to port. Engine four to two thirds." Crowe ordered before calling back over his shoulder. "Berg, any hope of getting C turret working again?"

  "No the acceleration coil is smashed and the turret crew are out." She shouted back.

  "Damn it!” Crowe cursed as he watched. It wasn’t going to be fast, another five or ten minutes, but the alien was inevitability going to out turn them and cross their stern. When that happened, even those small missiles would smash either the engines or the radiator. Once that was done they would have all the time in the world to hammer the cruiser without fear of counter fire.

  "Fire control to bridge!" Mamista crackled over the intercom.

  "What is it sub?" Crowe asked.

  "The missile launcher is up, but not many of the designators are working. I’m putting the available fire arcs up on the main holo."

  Crowe glanced at the holo. It looked like only two of the six targeting laser designators were still working.

  "Good work sub, now as soon as you get a shot take it. Bridge out."

  The alien had continued to edge further round. They hadn’t fired for several minutes, so obviously they’d seen th
eir chance and were keeping their missiles up the spout. Ready for the fatal shot. Getting out of his chair Crowe moved over to the helm terminal.

  "Can we go into a vertical spin along our beam axis?" He asked as he leaned over the helmsman’s shoulder.

  "No, sir. The wing tip motors on the dorsal and ventral wings are both knocked out. We only have the starboard motor." The man replied without taking his eye off his console.

  "Okay, okay…" Crowe muttered to himself. What to do? This was well outside any predicted scenario. It had been assumed that with weapons that could start hitting an opponent at one hundred thousand kilometres, action couldn’t possibly get so close. But then the alien had fired from at least five light seconds away, they might be even more unaccustomed to close combat…

  "Okay people, we’re going to reverse our turn. Hopefully get the missile to bear before they can react. Helm, prepare to throw everything into a port turn, main engines, wing motors, docking thrusters, the lot, burn them out if you have to."

  "Sir it’s an obvious move, they’re going to see this coming." Berg cautioned.

  "Maybe, maybe not, either way it’s the only card we have left."

  Crowe turned on the intercom as the helmsman started to program the manoeuvre. "Bridge to fire control."

  "Yes Skipper?" Mamista replied instantly.

  "Sub, prepare to engage with the missile to port."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Helm ready, sir!" The helmsman called out.

  Crowe quickly returned to his chair and buckled himself in.

  "Helm, fire control, now!"

 

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