“No, sir.” Keller had stayed on duty into second watch and was trying to make contact with the captive Black Fleet ships to let them know to get ready to fly.
“Have you identified any source of interference or signal jamming?” Jackson asked.
“No, sir,” Keller said. “It could be a localized interference, or it may be due to the ships still being within the confines of the dock. I can boost the signal strength again if you’d like.”
“Don’t bother,” Jackson said. “We’re at almost eighty percent transmit power now. Another boost in wattage isn’t going to do anything. Nav! Interface with Tactical, and give me a route that swings us down toward New Sierra. Use the Ares’s maximum acceleration in your calculations, and cut us in between the two approaching fleets.”
“Aye, sir,” the chief at the nav station said.
“Captain, the fleet coming from DeLonges has been spreading out into a picket line since they got underway,” Barrett said. “If we move between them, we could get caught between the effective firing ranges of the edge of their line and the ships coming from New Sierra.”
“Then I suggest you make sure our point defense battery is ready, Lieutenant Commander,” Jackson said. “I’m not wasting the time it would take to fly all the way out and around the DeLonges fleet. Nor will I risk giving the Icarus away by skirting around the New Sierra fleet. I have to assume Lieutenant Commander Essa has been successful so far, as we’ve received no alert from the shipyards. That means we need to get word to those docked ships so they’re ready to fly.”
“Course is calculated to the best of my ability to predict the reaction from the DeLonges fleet, Captain,” the nav operator said.
“Tactical, check it over, and then send it to the helm,” Jackson said.
“Course checks out, sir,” Barrett answered. “I’ve adjusted slightly to favor more toward the New Sierra fleet to try and stay out of range of those missile cruisers since we don’t know what they’re carrying.”
“Very good,” Jackson said. “Helm, you’re clear to engage. All ahead full. OPS, inform engineering we may need to run up past the accepted engine output limits shortly.”
“Ahead full, aye,” the helmsman said.
The soft thrum of the engines picked up to a muted, deep rumble as the helmsman smoothly advanced the throttle to full and began quickly entering his course change waypoints. He would allow the ship’s computers to do the actual flying unless the captain ordered quick, sudden action that required him to grab the flight controls and override the predetermined course corrections.
“We’re thirteen hours from intercepting the DeLonges fleet’s maximum weapons range,” Barrett reported. “Tactical computers are monitoring the courses of all inbound ships, and I’m sending the information to Nav for manual course updates.”
“Once you’re sure everything is updating, I want you off the bridge and in your rack for the next five hours,” Jackson told him. “That goes for you too, Mr. Keller. The XO will arrange for relief watches to make sure everyone is rested and ready when we come within range of any potential contact. Lieutenant Davis, you have the bridge for now. I’ll be back up to relieve you shortly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jackson walked off the bridge and stopped by the wardroom to grab a sandwich and a drink before hustling to his quarters to try and grab a few hours of sleep. He’d been awake and on the bridge since they’d entered the DeLonges System over nineteen hours prior, and his eyes felt gritty from staring at the main display for so long. Despite the stress of the situation, however, there wasn’t the gut-churning near-panic he felt during the times he faced off with the Phage. However distasteful, going up against human ships was something he was trained for. He knew their tactics, capabilities, and how to defeat each. For the first time since he’d first fired shots in anger from a ship he commanded, he felt reasonably confident in the outcome of his mission.
****
Despite how long he’d been awake beforehand, his eyes popped open after only four hours of restless sleep, so he took the extra time to grab a quick shower and some strong coffee before making his way back to the bridge. The Ares had a terminal in his quarters that had remote connections to both the bridge and the CIC, so he was able to confirm that they were still hours away from any potential engagement before he even put his boots on and made sure his prosthetic leg was fully functional.
“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” Jackson said to the lieutenant junior grade that was sitting in the command seat to fill in for the few hours both he and the XO would be off-duty.
“Yes, sir.” He practically leaped out of the seat. “Do you require a status report, sir?”
“Not necessary, Lieutenant,” Jackson said. “Report back to your department.”
Without another word, the young officer turned and hustled off the bridge. Jackson paced around for a moment, looking over the tactical updates on the main display. While he knew he could never give voice to this without looking like the most petty CO in the fleet, he always hated coming on duty and sliding into the command seat while it was still noticeably warm from the previous officer’s ass. It was a peculiar dislike that he couldn’t account for, so he didn’t bother. Instead, at the beginning of each watch, he made some pretense of checking over all the other stations and speaking to the other bridge personnel before sitting down.
He sat calmly, sipping his coffee while waiting for his acting XO and her replacement at OPS to report for duty. A quick glance at the tactical display confirmed that the Fourth Fleet ships were reacting much the way he’d expected: they planned to use their numerical advantage to nullify that of his far more advanced ship. To sell the deception, he’d committed fully to a hard charge down into the system, knowing that he had a few more advantages his opponents wouldn’t be aware of.
“Hello, Captain.” Jillian Davis walked onto the bridge, sat down, and logged into her terminal.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Jackson said. “Who do you have coming up to run OPS today?”
“Ensign Hayashi,” she said. “He’s our most experienced, and I didn’t think a potential engagement with the Fourth Fleet was an appropriate time to have a junior operator up here for training.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jackson said. “When he arrives go ahead and help him prep a Jacobson drone for launch. Tell Flight OPS I want it configured for maximum speed and endurance and a full com suite. No weapons and no sensors other than passive navigation. We’ll feed it telemetry updates as needed.”
“Aye, sir.” She rose gracefully as the youthful, full-cheeked face of Ensign Hayashi appeared through the bridge hatchway.
The pair worked for the better part of an hour, both on headsets and talking to specialists and technicians down in Flight OPS to get the drone prepped for launch.
“Jacobson drone has passed its self-checks and is ready for mission parameters, sir,” Hayashi said before Jackson had to ask or Davis volunteered the information.
Jackson nodded in approval that the young officer wasn’t just sitting back and allowing Davis to do all the work.
“Very good, Ensign,” Jackson said. “Nav! Send over the course I asked you to lay out earlier. OPS, I’m sending over a mission profile for how I want the drone programmed. Let me know when it’s ready for launch. Coms, tell engineering that we’ll be performing evasive maneuvers shortly.”
“Aye, sir.” Lieutenant Keller rubbed his eyes and tried to shake himself into full alertness.
It took Hayashi another fifteen minutes to get the package ready to send to Flight OPS for review. It was uploaded into the drone with minimal supervision from Davis. Jackson had allotted for three times that, so he sat quietly in his chair, enjoying the sounds of his crew at work around him, while he finished off his coffee.
“Flight OPS reports the drone is loaded into the dorsal launch bay and is ready to fly at your command, Captain,” Hayashi said.
“Flight OPS, this is the Captain.” Jacks
on held the button for the intercom. The computer would automatically route the intercom channel to where it needed to go. “We’ll be launching the drone while under power. Adjust accordingly, and then launch at your discretion.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” The voice of Commander Juarez came through his speakers. “Drone launching in thirty seconds. Standby.”
“Confirmed drone launch out of dorsal bay two,” Hayashi reported a minute later. “Handoff successful. We’re getting full telemetry downlink.”
“OPS, make sure the drone maintains at least ten kilometers of separation.” Jackson did some quick math in his head as he looked over the tactical display again. It would be close if the closing ships were sharp and alert, but he expected them to hesitate. “Go ahead and sound the general alert and get everyone into their restraints.”
The klaxon sounded twice before Hayashi’s voice came over the intercom. “All personnel, standby for evasive maneuvers. Non-essential crew are ordered into their restraints.”
Another ten minutes passed in tense silence as Jackson, not bothering to tell his crew exactly what he had planned, watched the rapidly dwindling distance numbers that were pinned next to each of the closing ships’ icons on the main display.
“Helm! Emergency stop!” he barked.
To his credit, the helmsman didn’t hesitate for even a second. He slapped the throttles back to the null position, reversed thrust, and shoved them forward again while simultaneously firing all the auxiliary braking thrusters.
Everyone was pitched forward as the gravimetric generators were unable to fully compensate for the violent maneuver. The main engines roared as they ran up to full power. and the Ares shuddered as inertia and superheated plasma thrust fought against each other. After twenty-two long minutes, the engines were throttled back, and the normal hums and beeps of the bridge could be heard again.
“Helm answering full stop, sir,” the helmsman said.
“Maintain our relative position,” Jackson said. “OPS, how’s our drone?”
“Still flying straight and clean, sir,” Hayashi reported.
“Go ahead and let everyone out of their restraints.” Jackson popped his own off and stood. “It’ll take the incoming ships fifteen to twenty minutes to fully realize what we’ve done. Tactical, keep the active scans going. Let me know the instant they react to our move.”
“Yes, sir.” Barrett shrugged out of his own harness.
“Might I ask what out next move will be, Captain?” Lieutenant Davis asked from her seat.
“For right now, we’ll wait to see what they do,” Jackson said. “They’ve been reacting to our charge into the system, so now they’ll have to decide whether to correct their course to continue pursuing us or come about and chase after the drone that’s about to bisect their formations.”
“So the rush down into the system was a ruse?” she asked.
“A feint,” Jackson nodded. “Show them one thing, get them to bite on it, then wait until it’s too late for them to do anything about it before revealing what you’re real plan is.”
“Might I know what the real plan is, sir?”
“We need to get in direct contact with those ships tied up in dock,” Jackson said. “I also want a high-power relay close to the shipyards to forward any communications from the NOVA teams. Right now, our intel says the crews have been sequestered on the ships with mooring clamps and dock overrides in place, but that intel is weeks old.”
“And if those ships don’t have crews to fly them?”
“We get our NOVA teams back, and we get the hell out of this system,” Jackson said. “I’m not risking the Ares or the Icarus for sixteen aging warships that may not even be in any shape to fight.”
As they waited for the Fourth Fleet ships to react, Jackson received a message from Daya Singh. Apparently, the Ares set a new Fleet record by coming to a complete relative stop from .35c in less than five hundred thousand kilometers in open space. Impressive. The crew was becoming more tense, more energized as the potential engagement neared.
“Captain, it looks like both groups are reducing velocity,” Barrett said. “Thermals are picking up reverse thrust blooms from every ship, and radar confirms.”
“Are they just slowing down?” Jackson frowned, punching in the commands to magnify that section of the main display.
“No, sir,” Barrett said. “They’re also angling in toward our current position, but not by much.”
“Is there any indication they even saw the drone fly through their formation?” Jackson tapped his chin, a nervous habit he’d picked up recently for some reason.
“None that they’ve shown,” Barrett said. “Not even the escort vehicles turned or slowed when it went through.”
“Then this isn’t actually their strategy. Helm! Maintain relative position. Zero thrust, station keeping thrusters only.” Jackson turned to Davis. “We’ve caught them completely flat-footed. They’re going to slow down and angle in to give themselves more time to react to anything we might do, but they’re completely defensive right now.”
“Could it be because they want to hold us here for some reason we can’t yet see?” she asked.
“Possibly,” Jackson conceded, “but unlikely. They’re giving us too much time to think as well as far too many avenues of escape given our superior acceleration.”
“This is the first thing even remotely close to a combat engagement any of them have ever seen, sir,” Barrett said. “If they’re going through what I did the first time, they’re likely just overwhelmed.”
“The more we observe their movements, the more we’ll know about their intentions,” Jackson said. “Continue monitoring all ships, and stay alert for any surprises they may be trying to spring on us.”
“Aye, sir.”
****
“Jam all the hatches except that one!” Amiri Essa shouted as all twenty-five members of the team piled into the large control room labeled “Master Docking Control.”
At his command, four team members grabbed adhesive-backed thermite strips and, after sticking them on one side of the hatchway, slammed the hatches shut onto them. The impact and pressure activated the device, and sparks erupted from the four hatches almost simultaneously as they were welded shut by the intense heat.
“Only one way in or out now, sir,” Rat said as they deployed around the remaining hatch in a loose defensive formation that allowed them to cover all the angles of approach while staying reasonably covered.
“Colt! Get to work!” Amiri waved away the noxious smoke created by the thermite strips.
Colt ran up with his tile and, pulling out a different lead than he’d used at their ingress point, established a hard connection with the long, multi-display terminal that lined the bulkhead on the far wall.
“Making connection now, sir,” Colt said. “Releasing the docking overrides. They’ll have control over all their systems and coms again shortly.”
“Let’s hope the crews are onboard and are ready to act.” Amiri looked at his chronometer. “We’ve already been here far too long. Establish contact with the Ares as soon as you can. I have a feeling our original exfil is going to be a no-go.”
“I’m on it.” Rat moved to one of the unsecured terminals along the near bulkhead. “Let’s hope these guys didn’t secure the terminals before we subdued them.”
When the NOVA team had approached the control room, there had been a lot of frantic conversation about the Ares acting aggressively toward their ships, but they seemed oblivious to the fact they’d been boarded. Amiri introduced himself with a pair of flash bang grenades and ten of his men rushing in to tape their mouths and put them in restraints.
Rat fumbled through the menus of the terminal. “I’ve dropped the localized jamming on the standard Fleet frequencies, sir. There’s a repeating broadcast coming in for the ships in both battlegroups from a drone in high orbit. It’s giving them orders and letting them know that we’re about to release their ships.”
“They should have figured that out already,” Colt said. “The overrides have been dropped. All ship functions have been returned to the command crews.”
“Rat, can you get me an open channel to the docked ships?” Amiri asked.
“Yes, sir.” Rat ran through a few more menus before nodding to him.
“Seventh Fleet commanders, this is Lieutenant Commander Amiri Essa, NOVA Team Four. As you likely have noticed, we’re in the process of securing your vessels’ release. Please respond on this channel with your status and begin preparing your ships for flight. Time is of the essence, so brevity is appreciated,” Amiri nodded for Rat to kill the channel. “Monitor that, and let me know what they have to say.”
One by one, all the ships began checking in and confirming their orders, and after fifty minutes, Colt let him know that all but two ships had at least one reactor started and were starting on their primary flight systems. Things were going so smoothly that he wasn’t surprised when a few shouts from the corridor beyond preceded small arms fire into the control room.
“Close that hatch!” Amiri shouted.
Now that some of Marines aboard were aware of their presence, it would only be a matter of time before they released their comrades and assaulted the room in force.
“Tech, keep working on getting those ships out of here,” he said. “Rat, try to get word to the Ares and Team Six—”
An explosion against one of the welded hatches interrupted him.
“Sir?”
“Tell them Team Four is buster,” Amiri said grimly. “We’re not getting out of here.”
Chapter 13
“Captain, NOVA Team Four is pinned down in master docking control,” Lieutenant Keller said. “They’re releasing all the Black Fleet ships, but they aren’t able to get to their exfil point. Apparently the Marines stationed on the shipyard have deployed to keep them from escaping.”
“Major Ortiz to the bridge,” Jackson said over the intercom, his jaw clenching in frustration. “Coms, try to raise Team Six and get an update from them.”
Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) Page 17