The Complete Thunder Series (Thunder In The Heavens)

by Dietmar Wehr

  “Nothing coming to mind?” she asked in a low, sympathetic voice.

  Eagleton shook his head. “Nothing that doesn’t have a bunch of negatives. Stinger-launched KE and FW warheads wouldn’t last long enough to penetrate the anti-tachyon defensive fire. They’d be destroyed before they could reach their targets. Our mothballed corvettes might be able to inflict some damage from a safe range, but we’d need hundreds of them to generate enough overlapping AT fire to punch through their super-ship armor. We don’t have that many available, and we’d have trouble finding crews for the ones we do have in time for the battle.” After a pause, he added, “If only we had kept jump drives on the KE missiles, we’d be able to jump them past the defensive fire.”

  “Well, if our missiles had that capability, then we’d use our fission warheads instead,” said Mirakova. That was followed by another awkward pause. She watched as Eagleton activated the conference room’s computer and called up a schematic of the KE and FW missiles, plus the RD2 drone, all shown to scale. The drone was shorter than the two missiles but also wider. Another adjustment made the images show the internal structure of each missile/drone.

  “Let me guess,” said Mirakova, “You were hoping that the RD2 had enough payload space to hold either a KE or FW warhead?”

  Eagleton nodded. “That’s what I was hoping, but clearly there’s not nearly enough room inside the drone. We’d have to lengthen it by about a third, and there’s not enough time to modify a hundred drones that way before the attack. Damn.” Eagleton felt a growing wave of despair start to come over him. He was supposed to be the tactical genius, and yet this problem seemed to be unsolvable. When Mirakova got up and moved to the wall display that was showing the missile/drone schematics, he wondered if he should offer his resignation as Fleet Commander.

  Mirakova had the nagging feeling that the answer was staring them in the face. She looked intently at the schematics, hoping they would inspire an idea. The solution had to be there.

  “What if…suppose we take the fission warhead off the missile and just…attach it to the front of the D2. Is that doable from an engineering point of view?”

  Eagleton’s first impulse was to reject the idea out of hand. The drone would experience considerable stress both at launch and during acceleration. Merely bolting the warhead on the nose of the drone would not prevent the warhead from snapping off during those stresses. But if there was a way to attach it more securely, then in theory it should work.

  “I don’t know, but I think we should ask our engineers to answer that question. If it can be done at all, and if it can be done quickly enough to modify a hundred RD2s in time, then we MAY have the solution, but that’s assuming that all hundred drones hit their targets. We’d still need large numbers of stingers to spray the enemy fleet with dispersed particle beams to weaken their armor enough for the fission warheads to penetrate before detonating. It’s the best idea we have so far; however, I can see some problems.”

  “Tell me,” said Mirakova.

  The main problem I see is target accuracy. Spraying anti-tachyon beams from long range will generate light and heat from the interaction with the target hull, but if our warhead drones have to stay light-seconds back before they jump, they’ll be seeing light and heat energy from targets that have moved somewhere else by then. Add to that the problem that once the Tyrell realize they’re being bombarded by AT fire, they might very well start to maneuver. That’s what I would do in their place, and that means that projecting each ship’s future position at the interception point is going to be iffy at best. We didn’t have that problem in the past, because the stingers could get close enough that they could fire their missiles before the enemy had a chance to react.”

  Mirakova crossed her arms as she walked back to the table. She stopped and stood there with her back to him. Seeing that she was clearly deep in thought, he kept quiet.

  “I’m calling up the schematic of the upgraded super-ship we examined in the Metrone system,” she said at last. “Maybe that will give us some inspiration.”

  The images of the two missiles and drone disappeared and were replaced with the arrowhead shape of the Tyrell battleships as seen from above, below and from the side. Eagleton watched as the computer added labels to various parts of the design. The Tyrell had added three particle beam turrets on top, with one at the front, one at each side at the rear and three more placed underneath in exactly the same spots. When all the labels were added, the computer projected the fields of fire of all six turrets. Mirakova ordered the computer to rotate the image to give them a better feel for the 3-D aspects. Eagleton saw it first.

  “There’s a blind spot at the rear. The hull is preventing the rear turrets from depressing enough to cover the rear approach up close to the ship,” said Eagleton.

  “Yes, you’re right. They should have put a turret right in the middle of the back end.”

  “That part of the hull is filled with engine and power plant equipment. It was probably too difficult to find the room without having to rebuild the entire back third of the ship,” said Eagleton. He looked closely at the labels. The hull had light sensors on top and on the bottom but not on the back end.”

  “Lasers,” said Eagleton suddenly. “That’s how we’ll do it.” He turned to Mirakova. “Their hull has sensors to detect if the hull is being hit with laser light but not at the back end, and I think I know why. We know the Tyrell are very aggressive. They love to fight and are more likely to move towards a fight than away from it. Therefore, the idea of being hit by laser light from behind would be dismissed as unlikely. If an enemy was behind them, they’d just turn around to face it. No sensors at the back end means that we can use low-powered range-finding lasers, which our drones already have, to detect those ships from the rear instead of using stinger particle projectors. The Tyrell won’t know we’re targeting them until it’s too late. This blind spot,” he pointed to the image, “will enable our modified RD2s to re-enter normal space far enough back to give them time for final course corrections. We know that the rear of these super-ships isn’t armored as heavily as the top and bottom. That means the fission warhead will do a lot of damage to their engineering section. And without power, not only will they not be able to fight or maneuver, they probably won’t be able to send FTL messages back home either. It’s not a sure thing, but I’m a lot more optimistic than I was just a few seconds ago, Admiral.”

  Mirakova didn’t quite smile, but her expression lost much of its seriousness. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to attach the warhead to the drone securely, and then do it again at least 99 more times in less than 26 days. Piece of cake, right Admiral?”

  Eagleton took a deep breath before replying. “God, I hope so.”

  Third Fleet Flagship (Ranger) / 26 days later:

  Eagleton stood quietly at the back of the Flag Bridge and listened to the chatter from the Bridge crew to each other as well as to other parts of the ship and fleet. Third Fleet was coasting at a distance of ten light-minutes from the sun, directly over the sun’s north pole. With precise info from recon ships monitoring the enemy’s forward base system, he knew exactly when the enemy fleet had entered hyper-space and therefore had a very good idea of when that fleet would emerge back into normal space in this system. Figuring out where it would emerge would depend on the hundreds of RD1s that had been deployed in a wide network. It was hoped that at least two drones would see reflections off ships in that fleet before they had a chance to re-orient themselves against that possibility. Once he knew that fleet’s position, he would order his carriers to micro-jump to the appropriate launch position and then launch both his RD1s and his modified RD3s. He smiled at the thought of what Mirakova had managed to accomplish in the last twenty-five and a half days . She had demanded miracles from her engineers, and as a result, a prototype drone armed with a simulated fission warhead was tested successfully within 48 hours. Conversion of RD2s into the new RD3 configuration had commenced. By the time all
five carriers had left Earth orbit 13 hours ago, there were 103 RD3s loaded on board. Simulations said there was an 89% chance that every drone would hit its target. That left three drones as a reserve against the 11% chance of at least one miss.

  The countdown timer to the estimated time of enemy fleet emergence was dropping fast. When it hit zero and started counting up again, Eagleton held his breath. The enemy fleet was almost certainly in the system now, but it was also almost certainly light-seconds, maybe even many light-minutes, away from the RD1 network. He had to be patient. With close to a thousand RD1s scanning continuously, the chances of not seeing any light reflections was less than 1%. The Flag Bridge was dead quiet except for the occasional equipment sounds. When the tactical display pinged for attention, it actually caused Eagleton to twitch in surprise.

  [REFLECTED SUNLIGHT CONTACTS DETECTED BY MULTIPLE DRONES]

  The tactical display updated and zoomed out to show a flashing red triangle with the number seven inside. The position was 34 degrees above the ecliptic, at a distance that was slightly beyond the orbit of Jupiter. His Bridge crew were now chattering among themselves with cheerful words. Eagleton allowed himself the luxury of a small smile, but he continued to watch the red icon. The number inside did not remain constant. After dropping to three, it went back up to eight before dropping again. Eagleton understood why. Those ships would be maneuvering to re-establish a tight formation, and sunlight was being reflected in different directions as individual ships changed their orientation to the rest of the star system. But enough continuous contact was maintained that TacComp could calculate the fleet’s velocity and vector. As soon as the display showed that, Eagleton stepped over to the FAO’s station. He said nothing because the FAO already knew what he had to do and was doing it. A blue dot appeared behind the red triangle half a light-minute away.

  “That’s our attack point, Admiral,” said the FAO.

  Eagleton patted him on the shoulder. “Very good. Pass the data to the fleet and get us over there pronto.” As he walked back to his Command Station, Eagleton said, “FC to Cag. As soon as we make the jump to the attack point, you are clear to deploy your drones.” The CAG acknowledged the order even as the FAO made a ship and fleet-wide warning of the impending micro-jump.

  “Jumping in…five…four…three…two…one…now!”

  It took less than a minute to launch 103 RD3s and 45 RD1s. As soon as all were launched, they accelerated to maximum velocity for a few seconds, until they reached a point that was just far enough away from the enemy ships so that the anti-tachyon spray was too weak to affect them. The RD1s fired their range-finding lasers, and the RD3s looked for reflected laser light. It took several more seconds for each RD3 to determine which of the 100 reflections it would aim at. When all pre-conditions had been satisfied, 100 RD3 accelerated back up to 65% of light speed and micro-jumped at their targets. Another ping from the display.

  [RD1 DRONES DETECTED 98 DETONATIONS]

  Eagleton held his breath. The three reserve RD3s were programmed to automatically target any remaining laser reflections that represented undamaged ships. They would attack within seconds. The 45 RD1 drones would need a few more seconds to detect if those last three hit anything. Another ping.

  [RD1 DRONES DETECTED 2 DETONATIONS. ALL HOSTILE SHIPS HAVE BEEN HIT]

  A quick check of the display showed that the red triangle now had a much higher number, which was increasing with each second. Velocity was constant, meaning that the Tyrell fleet, or rather what was left of it, was now coasting.

  “FC to Cag. That was good shooting, Cag. Let’s get those D1s in closer for damage assessment.”

  Chapter Ten:

  EAF HQ

  Mirakova sighed as she put down the data tablet containing the various reports about the battle and the analysis of the wreckage. So far there was no sign of any Tyrell survivors. Each super-ship had been so badly damaged from the exploding fission warhead that if the concussion from the explosion hadn’t killed all the crew outright, the survivors would have died shortly thereafter from the sudden cessation of life support. And while it was impossible to say for sure that no FTL signals were sent after the first wave of RD3s hit, no outgoing signals were detected by Third Fleet. The battle therefore was apparently a complete victory. The big question now was how quickly would the Tyrell react and what form would that reaction take. So far, intercepted FTL communications from the Tyrell home system had not given any clue as to the response. She tried to put herself in the boots of her opposite number in the Tyrell chain of command. What would she do now if a fleet of 100 super-ships had disappeared without a trace during an attack on an alien home system? She knew right away what she would not do and that was to launch another attack as soon as another fleet could be organized. Instead, she would take her time and use her resources to try to find out what had happened, including sending recon ships to the alien home system to snoop around and perhaps locate wreckage that could potentially give some clues as to how that fleet was defeated so quickly. A Tyrell carrier would be the best choice for the kind of ship to send on that mission. It could launch sensor drones and/or defense craft to search for the wreckage. A carrier was also smaller and would therefore be less like to be detected by reflected sunlight. The more she thought about that kind of response, the more convinced she was that the Tyrell would do it. That meant that Third Fleet, or at least one carrier from Third Fleet, had to stay in the vicinity of the Tyrell fleet wreckage, which fortunately didn’t pose any kind of hazard to Earth or any of its space-based infrastructure. In order to prevent a Tyrell recon carrier from reporting back any useful data, it would have to be destroyed via another RD3 drone. Luckily, another half dozen would be ready in a few more days. What worried her was the projection that indicated the remaining enriched uranium available from all inventories would only be enough to make another 89 RD3s. Trading stingers for U-235 was continuing, but the quantities weren’t nearly large enough to build up the RD3 inventory quickly. Delaying another attack as long as possible was Earth’s best chance for avoiding defeat, and if Third Fleet could keep on destroying Tyrell ships before they had a chance to send back useful data, then a rational commander would hesitate to launch another major attack on a system that had become a black hole for one fleet plus one or more recon ships. That begged the question of whether her opposite number was a rational commander. Considering how aggressive the Tyrell seemed to be, it was entirely possible that the loss of this fleet would just enrage their command structure and goad them into attacking again as soon as possible. She had to find a way to get off this slippery slope of barely managing to hold the Tyrell at bay again and again. Sooner or later, the Tyrell would win a battle, and Earth would be defenseless. She was tired of wracking her brains to find a solution with no answer coming forward. Another headache was starting to form. Maybe if she turned her attention to something else, it would go away. The next report in her inbox was from Cate. As she started to read it, her eyes opened wide, and the headache disappeared.

  Tyrell Home System:

  Torq stood defiant in front of the High Command. Their displeasure at losing another hundred Ships-of-Battle was understandable, but in his mind it only reinforced his conviction that these humans were by far the single greatest danger to the Tyrell race.

  “Once again your advice has resulted in disaster,” growled the Grand Master of the Military Council. “However, the loss of those ships and their crews has proven to us that your belief in the danger this race represents is not exaggerated. We are prepared to listen to further suggestions that you may have as to how we should proceed from here. You may speak, Fleet Master.”

  Torq took his time responding. “Since we do not know how the humans were able to defeat a hundred of our ships before any of them could send a message back to us, my first suggestion is that we send one carrier loaded with sensor drones to the outer rim of the human star system. The drones would be used to find the wreckage of our fleet so that we can see how tho
se ships were defeated. Once we know what kind of weapons the humans are using, we can then determine how best to counteract them. In the meantime, my carrier fleet will grow stronger. Four more carriers will become operational in another two hundred thirty-three sun-cycles. Once I have a total of ten carriers, I will take that fleet to the human system and crush them. The alliance that the humans have with other races must also be crushed. The other races are still using their obsolete larger attack ships. Our Ships-of-Battle are quite capable of defeating them if sent in sufficient numbers. I urge the High Command once again to send a thousand of our ships in two or three Grand Fleets to exterminate the other alliance races.”

  “What of the risk that the humans will send their carriers to defend their alliance partners?” asked the Grand Master.

  “How can they know which system we will attack? We have changed our code. When we begin to smash some of the alliance races, the others will demand help from the humans. That will weaken the human home system when my carrier fleet arrives for the final battle.”

  The Grand Master gave him a hard stare. “You have an impressive grasp of the complexities of this new kind of war, Fleet Master. I acknowledge your skill even as I deplore the need for it. I, and the members of the High Command, long for the days when a war was fought in a matter of cyclets, and our blood sang with the ecstasy of battle lust. This new kind of war is…unpleasant. We will consider your suggestions. You may leave us, Fleet Master.”