Virtues of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  “I need a main engine report. Can we sustain another prolonged, full-power burn?”

  “The engines are good, Captain, but that last strike put real strain on the wings. Please tell me you’re not planning another atmo run.”

  “No, Chief. Deep space the whole way.”

  “Then you’re good to go, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Thomas closed the channel and hailed Kristiansand. After several minutes, his central console lit up with the face of Commander Avernell.

  “Ma’am, Rapier has no joy with comms. I have no beacon readings anywhere in the Anubian region.”

  Avernell nodded. “We can still detect the beacons out at the jump gate, so this isn’t an effect localized on us. Something is masking the EF from our sensors.”

  “Could it be a solar storm, energizing the Anubian magnetic field?”

  “We checked. Solar activity is normal. I think this is jamming.”

  “My scope doesn’t look jammed—just blank.”

  “Our sensors detect a very low-level disruption covering the entire Anubian system.” She paused for emphasis. “Sirians don’t have this kind of technology.”

  Thoughts of mystery merchants and stealth ships flashed across Thomas’s brain. A sinister pattern was emerging.

  “Centauria.”

  Avernell nodded. “Can your ship sustain a high-speed burn?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was pleased that he had anticipated her thoughts. “I can be at Laika in ten hours.”

  “Then both of our ships will proceed at best possible speed to rendezvous with the fleet. I’ll be there in about fifteen hours.” She paused, then added, “Stay sharp—we’re not alone out here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Kristiansand out.”

  Thomas leaned back in his seat, aware that Katja was watching him. He ignored her for the moment.

  “Officer of the Watch, we are detached from Kristiansand. Set a course for Laika, point-one-c.”

  As Tamma obeyed, Thomas activated the ship’s intercom.

  “This is the captain—sitrep. Well done on the rescue mission. We successfully recovered all five living hostages and lost none of our own. We are en route to rejoin the EF at Laika, but we have lost their beacons. We don’t have all the information, but suspect Centauri jamming.” He paused, considering how to word his next thought. “Tensions are high, and we don’t know what’s waiting for us. Therefore, we will remain on alert. One-in-three watches will stay in effect, but all personnel are to remain suited. Relax when you can, but be vigilant on watch. Information will be provided as it becomes available. That is all.”

  Finally, he turned to Katja.

  “You deserve a hot shower, OpsO, and a hot meal. Why don’t you take a break for a while?”

  Katja nodded curtly and rose, none of her earlier shock apparent.

  “I’ll check on my team, sir, and ensure that the strike pods are ready for action.”

  “Very good.”

  She left the bridge, and Thomas watched her go. Every trooper dealt with shock a different way. Some withdrew, some drank, and some just buried it deep by keeping themselves busy. The busy ones were the ones that worried him most.

  His operations officer would have to take care of herself for the moment, however. As Thomas settled back into his seat, he turned his mind to the tactical situation. His fleet was masked by jamming—or worse. Centauri stealth ships were prowling the system.

  And, he suddenly realized, his daring rescue had done nothing to ease tensions. Two Terran warships had just attacked a civilian settlement belonging to the most powerful hostile force in Sirius. This force was clearly—if secretly—supported with Centauri weapons and training, and two Terran warships had just laid waste to its capital city.

  And he had led the strike.

  Thomas looked again at the conspicuous absence of EF beacons on his scope, and felt a chill rise in his chest. He had always wished for the chance to prove himself in war. He suddenly found himself praying that wishes didn’t come true.

  21

  Laika was a far cry from Cerberus. The large, atmospheric moon had been settled by very different people from the individualists who had claimed Cerberus as their own. Peace, order, and good government were its three founding principles, and Katja could tell the difference from more than twenty million kilometers away as Rapier was hailed by the Laikan Long-Range Vessel Traffic Management System.

  “Vessel in position zero-nine-zero, one-zero-two, two-seven-six, this is Anubis Control. Please identify yourself.”

  It was Katja’s first time on the bridge of a ship entering Anubian space, and she was impressed. Laika was only one of six Anubian moons inhabited by humans, but it took on the responsibility to manage the considerable traffic spread throughout the entire planetary system that swirled around the gas giant. Laika had tracked, tagged, and queried them while Anubis itself was still little more than a bright disk in the distance.

  The Cerberans were having a good day if they noticed you in high planetary orbit.

  “Anubis Control, this is Terran warship Rapier, en route to Laikan orbit.”

  There was a delay in the response, but not as long as the light minute between Rapier and Laika.

  “Terran warship Rapier, roger, system traffic is moderate. Reduce your speed to point-zero-five-c. Be advised one convoy of five cargo ships is outbound for Cerberus, eight million fine off your port bow. They are led by Merchant Vessel Darcy Harrington. Recommend you make passing arrangements.”

  “Rapier, roger out.”

  Katja throttled back to conform with Anubian safety speed, checked her 3-D display and confirmed the presence of five contacts moving in formation five million kilometers ahead. At Rapier’s speed they would reach their closest proximity in about nine minutes. Her navi-computer calculated the numbers, and recommended a slight change of course to open up the distance.

  Her display was already lighting up with more contacts moving between the Anubian moons, and as Rapier rapidly closed the distance, the scope became busier. Katja was competent when it came to open-space operations, but strike training hadn’t prepared her for the navigational hornet’s nest of a busy planetary system.

  She activated the comms circuit. “Captain, sir, Officer of the Watch.”

  Thomas responded quickly. “Captain.”

  “We’re entering the Anubian system. I’ve checked in with long-range VTMS and traffic is getting heavier. Request you come to the bridge.”

  “On my way.”

  Moments later, the hatch swung open and Thomas appeared. He eased his suited form into the seat next to Katja and brought up his own display. Katja quickly explained the traffic situation, pointing out the five-ship convoy ahead. They weren’t on a collision course, but they would pass a little closer than most space-farers would like.

  Thomas nodded. “Any sign of the EF?”

  Katja scanned her display, adjusting her scope to examine Laikan orbital space more closely. It was difficult at this distance to make sense of the mass of contacts, but there did appear to be a large grouping in low orbit. She indicated it to Thomas.

  “But still no sign of their beacons,” he said, then he activated Rapier’s secure comms. “Echo-Foxtrot One-Five, this is Rapier on Fleet Reporting, over.”

  Silence was the only response. No static, no white noise. He switched channels.

  “Echo-Foxtrot One-Five, this is Rapier on Command Net, over.”

  Silence.

  “OpsO, try hailing the EF on the warfare circuits.”

  “Yes, sir.” Katja spent a minute attempting to hail the fleet on the various channels used for battle coordination. There was no response and she said as much.

  When he didn’t respond, she glanced over at him. His expression was focused, his eyes hard.

  “We just lost the beacon for the jump gate,” he said.

  She checked her display. Sure enough, where a moment ago the eternal jump gate b
eacon had shone, there was nothing but blank scope.

  “Directed, local interference?” she offered.

  He nodded. “Like someone is trying to cut off Astral Force units in the Anubian system in a way that a casual observer wouldn’t notice. It might even escape the attention of the ships themselves.”

  Katja felt her stomach tighten. “But why?”

  “Our entire expeditionary force is assembled in Laikan space, doing routine exercises. It’s a rare opportunity for an enemy to strike without word getting back to Terra.”

  “Terra has no quarrel with Laika, or any of the Anubian colonies. Why would they want to attack?”

  Thomas’s eyes possessed unusual intensity as he turned to look at her. “Terra—by which I mean us—just openly attacked a major Sirian colony. And guess who was already there to defend them?”

  Katja’s throat went dry. “Centauria.”

  “Centauria’s military presence on Cerberus has been revealed. Terran military circuits are jammed. And the EF is vulnerable in low orbit around Laika.”

  Katja felt her emotions slip away as the now familiar, premission clarity took over her mind. “Battle stations?”

  “Battle stations.”

  She pressed the general alarm button. For eight seconds the klaxon sounded throughout the ship. She brought up the damage control panels on her left, watching as the engine room began switching systems over to battle mode. The extra generators were flashed up. Secondary fire-fighting and vacuum-control systems came on line. Hull power-transfer took over from the main busses.

  Artificial gravity kicked in at the various locations around the ship where crewmembers needed to be grounded. Katja felt her own weight return as she sank into her seat.

  Chief Tamma clambered onto the bridge and sank down into his seat in front of Thomas. Breeze was quick behind him. During the moments that the hatch was open, Katja heard orderly shouts and clatter as the crew headed for their stations.

  Tamma took the flight controls from Katja, and Breeze brought up the weapons systems.

  Anubis’ bright, swirling cloud banks began to loom large ahead, but Rapier’s path kept the gas giant to port. The 3-D display clearly showed Laika as it moved in its orbit, and as Katja searched she thought she could just make out the brilliant white disk against the background stars. The disk grew quickly into a recognizable sphere as Rapier hurtled toward it at nearly five hundred thousand kilometers each minute.

  The ships of the EF were still much too small to see from this distance, but then Katja found that she could see them on her display. She stared for a moment at the familiar blue icons of Terran ships, clustered very close in low Laikan orbit.

  “Captain…” she said, “I can see the EF’s beacons on my display.”

  Thomas immediately activated the comms. “Normandy, this is Rapier on Command Net—radio check, over.”

  A voice came back immediately, with no sense of alarm.

  “Rapier, this is Normandy, roger, over.”

  “This is Rapier, roger. Request Normandy actual this circuit, over.”

  Katja checked on the status of the Expeditionary Force. They were conducting an underway replenishment in low orbit. The supply ships, hemmed in on all four sides by warships in tight formation, were transferring stores through flexible tubes. The other warships were spread out in a standard picket defense, ready to ward off anyone foolhardy enough to try and cause trouble during this vulnerable but essential fleet evolution. The low orbit provided the cover of a deep gravity well to further render stealth attacks extremely difficult.

  “Rapier, this is Normandy. Actual, over.” Captain Chandler himself was now on the line.

  Thomas responded. “This is Rapier, urgent message. Terran circuits in the Anubian system are being jammed. We have not held EF beacons since Cerberus—assess you are shining only locally. I suspect hostile action is imminent. Over.”

  There was a pause. When Chandler spoke his voice was slow and careful.

  “Roger… We have had no indication of jamming. There is no hostile activity to speak of. We have tracked your approach and assume you have just reactivated your beacon—please confirm. Over.”

  Thomas pursed his lips in frustration.

  “Rapier’s beacon has been shining since Cerberus. Request that you check for the beacons of Kristiansand and the jump gate. Both are beyond the jamming radius. Over.”

  “Wilco.” A pause, then, “Report on the Cerberus operation, over.” Chandler’s voice had grown stern.

  Thomas kept his voice calm and professional. “Success. Five live hostages recovered and no strike team casualties.” He looked ready to add more, but held his tongue. “Over.”

  “Very good. Well done on completing your mission. Normandy is engaged in an UNREP and unable to recover you at this time. Stand off and await recovery in two-zero mikes. Over.”

  “Rapier, roger, over.”

  “Normandy out.”

  Katja listened on the command net as orders were passed for the next group of ships to prepare for UNREP. She didn’t know all the details of Fleet replenishment, but she did know that it wasn’t an easy maneuver. Eight ships had to clear a tight formation around the supply ships, and eight more had to maneuver in to replace them, one at a time.

  “Captain, sir, Pilot,” Tamma said. “Fuel is down to fifteen percent. Confirm standard orbital braking to save energy?”

  Thomas considered. “Affirmative. We have time before Normandy clears.”

  Laika had grown much larger, and the lights of civilian ships moved in front of the stars. Tamma had adjusted Rapier’s course to whip once around the moon before rendezvousing with the Expeditionary Force. This orbital braking would use Laika’s gravity to further slow the ship, place her in orbit, and line her up for a meeting with the EF, all with minimal ship’s power required.

  Katja stole a glance at Thomas. Bold yet prudent, and absolutely unflappable. The memory of a joke he had told in Normandy’s star lounge suddenly flashed into her mind, of how she had laughed and felt so good in his company. She pushed it away, but in the same moment hoped that they would have the opportunity for some personal time again, and soon.

  Laika’s blue, green, and white surface grew to fill half the sky. Tamma rolled the ship so that her topside faced the planet, and Katja took a moment to take in her first good look at a new world. Lights dotted the dark surface, spaced fairly regularly across the major continent. A few lone ones indicated the far-flung, resource-based cities in the far north.

  Several moved against the dark backdrop, reminding Katja that there were other ships in the vicinity, and that Rapier was in the middle of a carefully controlled maneuver. She glanced at her display, and idly noted that none of the other orbitals posed a threat along Rapier’s path.

  An interesting formation of ships was visible on the display, ten of them moving in a line abreast like cadets on the parade square. She wondered if it was some kind of survey mission—the Laikans were well known both for their environmental husbandry and their scientific prowess. The line was located less than one hundred kilometers below Rapier’s path, moving in the same direction but slower than the fast-attack craft.

  Rapier would pass overhead in about thirty seconds. Katja turned her eyes “upward” to look.

  There was nothing there but the dark surface.

  She looked again at her display, wondering if she had miscalculated the formation’s relative bearing. Then she looked back at the night sky.

  Still nothing.

  A flash of orange light caught her eye. Then a second. Then more. About 100 kilometers away, between her and the planet, Katja saw a rapid succession of orange flickers in the blackness, like tiny flames burning for a split second before snuffing out. They reminded her of nighttime strike exercises back on Earth. Planetary missiles often revealed a burst of flame as they were booster-assisted from their launch pads, before their ramjet engines kicked in.

  Tiny, dazzling points of light suddenl
y burst in the sky, out ahead of where the flames had been. Katja watched, mesmerized, as one by one the mini-stars exploded to life and raced eastward across the distance, pulling away as Rapier continued to brake.

  “Holy shit!”

  “What?” Thomas demanded.

  Katja pointed upward at the dazzling points of light that were racing away ahead of Rapier.

  “What are those?”

  Tamma, the seasoned pilot, recognized them first. “Missiles!”

  Katja was thrown sideways in her seat as he instinctively jinked the ship hard left and then hard right.

  “Hold course,” Thomas roared. “They’re not aimed at us!”

  Katja stared at her display. “They’re in an orbital trajectory. Eastbound!” The line of ten ships increased its speed, and began to spread out. “They were launched from that line of ships!”

  Thomas barked orders. “Pilot, intercept course on those missiles—flank speed. NavO, take with turrets—fire at will. OpsO, flash report to the EF—enemy sighted!”

  Katja ignored the pressure that shoved her back into her seat as Rapier accelerated and dove toward the rapidly receding wave of missiles. She forced her hand forward to flick the comms circuit, switching to AAW—anti-attack warfare. She hailed the Expeditionary Force.

  “Flash! Multiple vampires inbound, orbital trajectory!” She studied the info on her display. “Archons two-seven-five!” She needed to indicate the direction of the assault, but the EF was still invisible over the horizon. She pursed her lips in helplessness. “From far-side! From far-side! Look west! Look west!”

  Even though Rapier had accelerated to a dangerous speed, the missile exhausts didn’t seem to be growing larger in her vision. Their combined light cast a faint glow across Laika’s largest ocean, far below. She watched as the massive form of Anubis rose above the horizon ahead, its swirling cloud formations shining brightly in the impending sunrise.

  The AAW circuit burst to life.

  “Station calling flash,” came a stern voice, “this is Echo-Whiskey: identify yourself and explain your last transmission.”

  “This is Rapier, inbound from the west, still below the horizon! There are about forty goddamn missiles ahead of us, headed in your direction. And there are ten enemy warships coming up behind us!”