So anything up to twenty-four ships against her five, which was not as bad as the numbers alone would suggest. America could take on any three Rizr cruisers single-handed, while the two Storm class ships were each more than a match for any single armoured cruiser, but after that it started to go downhill. With only four guns and two launchers, Hood packed less firepower than a modern destroyer. While Willis was confident her elderly command could tackle any single Rizr ship, she was equally sure they’d get hurt doing it. Still better than Onslaught though - the old raider had simply never been designed hold a place in the battle line and had absolutely no armour. Although Onslaught was still a stealthy ship, even by modern standards, it was a case of quantity versus quality, without enough quality and only one week to prepare.
16th May 2067
“Commander?” Willis looked up from her desk at the sound of the hesitant voice. She saw a vaguely familiar officer standing at the hatch and tried to remember who he was.
“Lieutenant Holland Ma’am. You asked to see me.”
“Oh yes, please sit down Lieutenant,” she replied waving him towards the spare chair. “You’re ready to go?”
“Yes Ma’am. We’ve completed the pre-mission checks and we’re ready to go.”
Like all couriers, L23 had two crews who flew alternate missions, a necessity for a vessel with no centrifuge and minimal crew facilities.
“That’s good. You know I’m sending you after Vice Admiral Melchiori. I need you to find him and summon him back as fast as he can make it.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Holland replied, “it will nice to go back to couriering for a change. Where am I going?”
“That’s the problem Lieutenant,” Willis said ruefully. “Melchiori alters the timing of his patrols on the border region and we don’t have that information on file. I have a list and the order of the systems he’s going to pass through but you will have to search for him.” She passed across a data stick, which Holland plugged it into his computer pad.
“Oh boy,” he muttered half to himself as he saw the number of possibilities, before looking at her again. “Ma’am, we could overtake them in Jump Space. In fact we probably will! If that happens…”
“I know,” Willis interrupted, “you won’t see each other. Load up with communications buoys. Do what you have to Lieutenant, just find Melchiori and find him fast.”
“Twenty-four against five that isn’t a great match up,” Willis said to her sub commanders. They were all gathered in Hood’s wardroom to discuss tactical options.
“It’s more like against four,” Commander Farrell said, looking towards Commander Daler. “No offence but Onslaught doesn’t have the plating to trade punches.”
Daler acknowledged Farrell’s point with a gruff nod.
“If we simply go toe-to-toe with them, we’ll get swamped by their numbers,” Farrell continued. “I reckon we’ll take half of them out but that will still leave them with enough.”
“If I might make a suggestion,” Captain Waugh said quietly.
“Of course sir,” Willis replied.
“Let’s not concentrate on what we don’t have and instead concentrate on what we do have.”
Willis stared up at the deckhead as she considered Waugh’s advice. Briefly the sheer absurdity of the situation struck her. There was both an Admiral and full fleet Captain in the system, and yet politics had put herself, a mere Commander in command.
“We have the America. Your ship, sir, will turn at least the first two Rizr warships that take her on into scrap. All of our ships, with regrettably the possible exception of Hood, can out-accelerate anything they have.”
“And Onslaught is still a hard ship to spot if we shut down and go dark,” added Daler.
“That’s okay for raiding,” said Romanek, “but not for a stand-up fight.”
“Then we don’t use her for a stand-up fight,” Willis said before Daler could make any reply. “The Rizr troop transports are what really count. They can smash up the orbital infrastructure, but without ground troops, they can’t take and hold any real estate.”
“You reckon we can get Onslaught into the transports?” Daler asked. There was Willis noticed a hungry look in the Commander’s eye. Onslaught hadn’t made it to Alpha Centauri, breaking down before they got there and while no one blamed Daler, he was clearly a man looking to prove himself.
“I don’t see how,” Romanek objected. “Even if Onslaught is dark when they arrive the Rizr will see the rest of us. America’s engine profile is too different from the rest of us so they’re going to realise that someone is missing. If Onslaught doesn’t have the element of surprise…” Romanek shrugged her shoulders.
Willis gave her a frustrated frown. Romanek wasn’t wrong. If the Rizr had learned anything from the raiding, it was the engine profiles of the Geriatrics. When they arrived and couldn’t see Onslaught, that would be all the encouragement they’d need to be cautious. Two or three cruisers in close escort to the transports would be enough to hold Onslaught at arm’s length. Of course the flip side of this was that if they could see all four Geriatrics, then why would they keep ships they needed for a slugging match close to the transports. They’d just need a fourth old ship.
Willis flicked on her intercom.
“Bridge, can you please ask the Chief to join me in the wardroom,” she asked.
“You’re having a thought Faith?” Farrell asked.
“Maybe,” Willis replied. After a few minutes there was a polite tap at the hatch as the Chief entered and came to attention.
“You wanted to see me Ma’am?” he asked crisply.
“At ease Chief. I need to know if we could get one or other of the ships that were towed out here for parts moving?”
Apart from a slight widening of the eyes, Guinness didn’t give too much of an indication of just what he thought of the request. The senior officers in the room however murmured among themselves. The Chief stared up at the deckhead for a few moments.
“Ma’am, are we talking about trying to turn them back into fighting units?” he asked in a slightly strained voice.
“No Chief. I need them to be able to move under their own power,” Willis replied before explaining what she needed. As she did Guinness’s expression turned thoughtful.
“Thunder is the better hope of the two of them, Ma’am,” he said eventually.
“But she is the older one,” Captain Waugh said.
“Yes sir,” Guinness replied, “so we’ve been hitting Monsoon as first choice for spare parts. I mean we’ve still gutted Thunder’s armament and fire control systems but the engines and power room are still more or less in one piece. Of course none of it has run in at least a decade.” He looked back toward Willis. “How long do I have Ma’am?”
“One week.”
Guinness let out an unhappy whistle.
“Right, I need to get over there with a work party Ma’am. Tomorrow I should know if it’s a runner.”
___________________
24th May 2066, 07.17 Hrs Dryad time
Twenty thousand kilometres beyond the Red Line of Dryad Five, the fabric of space opened to form a jump in portal through which SS Weser, SS Altair and bringing up the rear, Deceiver, filed into real space.
“Radar, give me a full sweep. Helm, get us onto least time approach for Dryad Five,” Vincent ordered. On the main holo the first radar returns were starting to arrive. Weser and Altair were both firing up their engines with their courses already starting to diverge as they headed for different parts of the planet’s orbital industry. No expected contacts appeared on the display, although directly astern of Deceiver remained an annoying blank, blocked by the ‘noise’ of their own engines. A warship would make a small turn just after jump in just to make sure that nothing had found itself in that blind spot. This was not an option for Deceiver however, as always needed to keep up the appearance of being anything but a warship.
“Radar sweep’s complete sir. No additional contacts within fiv
e light seconds,” called the petty officer at radar. “The planet is blocking our view of Hawkings. We can see the orbital facilities around Dryad Three on the passives and all appears to be normal.”
“No communications from either of the transports, Skipper,” added the coms officer. “I guess we don’t rate an acknowledgement,” he added.
Vincent smiled slightly. Told to expect an escort, neither of the civilian skippers had been particularly impressed by Deceiver. Still, a lack of courtesy meant less chance of anything being let slip across the radio waves.
“Anything from Hawkings or Commander Willis, beacons or whatever?”
“No sir… hmm…”
“What’s warranting the hmm?” Vincent asked.
The coms officer paused listening to his earpiece.
“Sir, we have an automated message on a repeating loop. It’s ordering all civilian transports in the system to make for Hawkings or the nearest dockyard on the authority of Dryad Station commanding officer, Commander Faith Willis. No other information’s included but there’s a lot of chatter on the commercial bands.”
Vincent made no immediate reply as he processed the information. There weren’t that many scenarios that would warrant a system wide freeze but it sounded like that was exactly what Faith had done. So what should he do? He could turn, head directly for Hawkings and rendezvous with the Geriatrics. He opened his mouth to give the order then closed it again. If there was someone out there quietly watching, that might attract attention and if some kind of action was in the offing, Deceiver was unfortunately the wrong kind of ship for a stand-up fight. If he made for the orbital facilities over Dryad Five, he could get in touch with Faith. If a hostile force turned up, Deceiver could look meek and mild until they came into range.
“Definitely nothing on radar?”
“No sir.”
“Okay,” Vincent said half to himself. “Keep us on our course. Open up gun crews and stand down from combat stations. Navigation, how long to reach Valance Platform?”
“Err… figure fourteen hours at current acceleration levels.”
“And line of sight to Hawking Base?”
“Ninety minutes.”
“Sir. Do you want me to send a request for instructions as soon as we have a line of sight?” asked the coms officer.
“No,” Vincent replied with a shake of his head as he stood up. “It can wait until we reach Valance and can put in a tight beam. I don’t want anyone wondering why a bulk transport is chattering with Hawkings. Officer of the Watch, you have the bridge. I’ll be back up for docking.”
10.23 Hrs Dryad time
Three hours was enough time to break the back of the paperwork. The two transfer requests were about the last of it. One man was seeking a move to allow for a chance of further promotion, the other wasn’t finding life on Deceiver to his taste. The first man had spent enough time in-grade and had the capability to be a petty officer. It would be a pity to lose him but Vincent wouldn’t begrudge a man ambition. The second was going to be disappointed. That he found the posting boring was never going to cut it. Hitting the send icon he opened the next set of files, just as the main alarm went off.
Vincent was up, out of his chair, through the hatch and halfway to the bridge without conscious thought kicking in.
“Report!” he shouted as he rushed onto the bridge.
“Two Rizr protected cruisers have just jumped in!” shouted back the officer of the watch. “Bearing one, nine, one dash one, seven, eight, range three quarters of a light second, that’s thirty thousand kilometres beyond the Red Line.”
Vincent stared at the main holo as he struggled into his survival suit. Deceiver along with Weser and Altair had crossed the Red Line about ninety minutes earlier, putting them well inside Dryad Five’s Mass Shadow. The two transports were on a slowly diverging course, putting them, respectively seven and nine thousand kilometres away. When Deceiver was converted into a Q-ship they’d given her a military grade bridge display, so Vincent didn’t need a report to see Altair make a sudden course change as she angled back towards Deceiver. Weser didn’t seem to have yet noticed the new arrivals though.
“Bridge, Coms. Transmission from Altair.”
“Jesus! Tell me that’s not a radio transmission!” Vincent shouted. This was already a bad match-up and if the bloody civvies had blown their cover then they might as well blow their own reactor!
“Negative Skipper. It’s a laser hook up.”
“Thank God. Alright, Coms, put him up.” On Vincent’s screen the Altair’s skipper appeared.
“Two warships have just arrived!” the man blurted out as soon as he appeared.
“We’ve seen them Captain.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it!” Vincent almost laughed in his face. What did the man expect him to do? Magic them away?
“I’m going to do what I can. Put your ship on hard burn. If I need anything from you I’ll be in contact.” Vincent cut the connection without waiting for the man to reply. “Coms, contact Weser. Tell them to go full burn and keep quiet. Tactical, what do you have for me?”
“Engine profiles make them a pair of protected cruisers, classification Baker Class. Intelligence has them down as forty years old, oldest class they have in service, with only three still on strength,” called back his tactical officer. “Putting it on your screen now sir.”
Vincent immediately looked to the file. Bakers – their human designation – certainly weren’t the most impressive examples of Rizr engineering. Four twelve-centimetre lasers in turrets and two seventeen-centimetre lasers in fixed mounts on each broadside, giving them just enough gun armament to really annoy a modern human cruiser. The Rizr had tried to beef them up with missiles mounted on external racks, to give them a single heavy throw. Those missiles were solid fuelled, slow, short ranged and fairly stupid. Still quantity was a quality all of its own. Their acceleration was equally uninspiring, better than a loaded transport but with her upgraded machinery Deceiver had only marginally lower acceleration. Vincent chewed on his lower lip as he looked from the ship profile on his screen to the main holo. Around him reports flowed to the bridge as each section reported itself ready.
“Skipper, all sections report themselves ready for action.”
Vincent nodded then shook his head slightly. One Baker they could take. It would hurt badly if they had to close through weapons fire, but those little lasers wouldn’t be able to inflict real structural damage. Two was a totally different ballgame however.
“Coms, transmit a general distress signal under the name Saturn Conveyor.” This was the name he’d agreed weeks ago with Faith that would be the signal that Deceived badly needed help. The order left him feeling a slight sense of déjà vu as it looked like he was going to need Faith to ride to the rescue again. Hopefully he’d have more of a ship left this time.
“This is Saturn Conveyor on Dryad Five. Beta Approach track, Raider, Raider, Raider, I say again Raider, Raider, Raider, we have two Riz… argh! Jesus!”
Vincent spun round at the exclamation. His coms officer was rubbing his ear. He looked up toward Vincent.
“Skipper, they just jammed the channels. All of them. Got the basics away but that’s all.”
“That’s probably enough,” Vincent replied before turning back toward the holo. The situation might actually work to their favour. The Bakers had already blown their interception. They were a long way behind and a stern chase was always a long chase. They’d have to come inside Dryad Five’s Mass Shadow. Deceiver’s distress signal would take in the region of eighty minutes to reach Hawkings. If the two Bakers chased the three of them beyond the Red Line, then if Faithie jumped in behind them, their escape route might take them past Deceiver. If that happened it could turn out to be a very good day.
“Helm, match Altair’s acceleration,” said Vincent as sat himself down. “Let’s see how this plays out.”
___________________
11.51 Hrs Dryad time
> “Well?” Willis asked without preamble as she came onto Hood’s day bridge.
“Deceiver has called in a raider as Saturn Conveyor,” Hood’s coms officer reported quickly, “She’s on the Beta approach track for Dryad Five and that’s as much as we know directly. “We’ve received a laser transmission from the Valance Platform, which reports that a number of Rizr ships have jumped in and are jamming all radio transmissions.”
“A number? Exactly how many?”
“That’s all we have Ma’am. No tactical information provided.”
Damn them, Willis thought savagely. An eighty-minute transmission time each way, asking for clarification would take more than two and a half hours! An opportunity to give them useful intelligence and some idiot had pissed it away.
“Skipper,” called out one of the communication ratings. “Audio signal from Hawkings. It’s the Admiral.”
“Put it through to me,” Willis ordered. “Admiral, have you received the signal from Deceiver?”
“Yes Commander, I have,” Kinnear’s voice came across the radio. There was a lot of static on the connection but Willis wondered whether she could hear some nervousness in his voice. “Commander, our passive sensors can see Deceiver and the transports she arrived with, but the angle means we can’t see the enemy. But analysis say that the jamming signal is coming from at least two separate transmitters.”
“So two ships, sir.”
“At least, Commander.”
“Could be small ships, sir.”
“I doubt it, Commander. I don’t think the Rizr have anything smaller than cruisers that would have sufficiently powerful transmitters.”
“So two cruisers.”
“At least, Commander, but could be more. With no line of sight it’s currently impossible to say.”
“If Vincent has called in as Saturn Conveyor then it’s more than Deceiver can handle on her own. If I take Hood and Typhoon…”
The Landfall Campaign (The Nameless War) Page 30