Rumors of Salvation (System States Rebellion Book 3)

by Dietmar Wehr

  Phantom

  “Bogey1 seems to be trying to avoid battle now,” said Molitor over the com channel.

  Murphy took a good look at the tactical display before responding. That ship was now accelerating as fast as it could in a direction that would open the range. Because of the momentum it already had on its old course, the maneuver looked like a gradually tightening curve.

  “It sure looks that way.” He was about to say more when the display pinged again. Murphy watched in disbelief as the projected course stopped swinging away from his squadron and began coming back around. He waited to see if it would return to its old course and was shocked when it reached that and then continued turning towards him. Instead of running from a fight, Bogey1 now seemed to be bent on engineering the most dangerous kind of tactical maneuver. Unless Murphy ordered his ships to veer off, the two sides would approach each other on virtually parallel but opposite courses at high speed, with only a few thousand kilometers separating them at their closest point. The fact that his squadron had a three to one advantage was small comfort. Missile duels at that range practically guaranteed that at least one of his ships would be seriously damaged, and it might be Phantom.

  “Well that answers that question,” said Molitor in a low voice.

  “Which question is that, Rachel?” asked Murphy.

  “I think we’ve just witnessed Majestic’s implant in action. How else can you explain a complete 180 degree change in tactics after just a few seconds of trying to disengage? I’ll bet you any amount you want that the CO of that ship wanted to disengage and the implant made him not only abandon that strategy but went even further and ordered him to essentially commit suicide. If his ship has the same level of armor that Tigershark does, then our combined missile capability will blast that ship to atoms. I don’t know of any CO who would take that action unless they were mentally unhinged or were coerced into doing it.”

  “I can’t find any fault in your logic, but even if you’re right about that ship committing suicide, it can still hurt us.”

  “And that’s exactly why Majestic’s machine logic would order that tactic. Majestic has enough ships that it can engage in this kind of attrition strategy and still win in the end. If you think of humans as being expendable, then sacrificing them this way makes perfect sense. Damn, I hate that machine! The people on that ship don’t deserve to die this way. I might even know that CO personally.”

  “We could try to veer off,” said Murphy.

  “We could try, but I don’t think the implant will allow that CO to let us go. If he’s determined to fight a missile duel, he can force one on us regardless of what we do now unless…”

  “Unless what?” asked Murphy.

  “Well, if the squadron splits up and each ship takes a different vector, then Bogey1 can only go after one of us, and Sorcerer, being the smallest of the three, would be the obvious target, assuming that the implant would allow that CO to choose which ship to go after.”

  Not if Sorcerer is escorted by Phantom while Tigershark tries to entice that ship to go after it. But why should Rachel have to risk her life and the lives of her crew to save me and mine? He felt shame at his instinctive desire to save his own life while expecting someone else to sacrifice themselves for him. This was now virtually the same dilemma as he faced on Midgard when Trojan’s troops were about to land. He had accepted his responsibility as leader to save his people even if it meant losing his own life, and then fate had allowed him to live. He felt guilty because of that. He now had a chance to pay that debt and balance the scales AND rejoin his beloved Cate. That thought brought a calm to his mind that was quite soothing and comforting. Phantom would try to lure Bogey1 away. Rachel’s Tigershark would escort Sorcerer to safety. The decision felt right.

  “Rachel, this is what we’re going do,” said Murphy.

  Empire Cruiser Agincourt

  Hendricks gave one final gasp as the pain stopped. It had only taken a couple of minutes for Agincourt to swing back around enough to reassure the implant that he wasn’t trying to run away, but he was soaked with sweat from the painful ordeal. He knew that taking three ships practically head on was suicide, but it seemed, based on how the implant reacted, that Majestic didn’t care so long as his ship could inflict some losses on the enemy. For a moment he was tempted to hold his fire out of spite, but he suspected that the implant would detect that kind of passive resistance and give him another dose of agony. The only silver lining that he could see in this situation was that it was highly likely he wouldn’t have to worry about the implant for much longer. Death was beginning to look better and better.

  He looked around at the others on the Bridge. They were carefully looking away, but he could see just enough of their faces to know that some of them were experiencing implant-induced pain too. It was obvious what had happened. It was impossible to endure that kind of agony without revealing it physically and audibly. They would have seen his suffering and understood that the implant was forcing him to turn the ship back towards the enemy fleet. Whatever thoughts of rage or despair they might have felt would have triggered their own pain sessions. He felt he should say something but couldn’t think of anything that might be of any comfort to them. Checking the sidebar data, he saw that the optimum range for missile launch was still about twelve and a half minutes away, enough time for him to go to his quarters and change into a fresh and dry uniform. If he was going to die in a little while, he didn’t want to face death shivering from the cold of a wet uniform.

  Just as he got up and was about to hand over temporary command of the ship, the tactical display pinged. The icon representing the enemy fleet was splitting into two, with a single ship in one and the remaining two ships in the other. It didn’t take long to see that the two icons were moving away from each other. He also noticed that the single ship was not veering away as much as the other two. Hendricks took a closer look at the two-ship icon information. Yes, just as he suspected. The smaller ship was being escorted by one of the larger ships. They were running for it, and the other large ship was hanging back just enough to make it easy for Agincourt to intercept it.

  The realization that he was now facing one-on-one odds instead of three-on-one gave him a momentary surge of hope that he just might survive this combat. But I don’t want to survive it. I hate living like this. I’m willing to bet my crew hates it too. I’m going to end this nightmare once and for all.

  “Helm, when that single enemy ship settles down on a final course, I want you to program a zero-range interception so that the auto-pilot will automatically correct our course no matter what that ship does.” He could see out of his peripheral vision that everyone on the Bridge had turned to look at him, including the Helm Officer, whose shocked expression rapidly changed to one of comprehension and agreement. Hendricks looked around at the others. Now they were all nodding their agreement as well. A zero-range interception was a euphemism for a head-on collision. At these speeds, there wouldn’t be enough time for their brains to feel any pain from the collision. It would be as close to instantaneous death as it was possible to get. To his surprise, he realized that the implant was not objecting to the maneuver. When the auto-pilot was programmed, Hendricks activated the program and breathed a sigh of relief that the implant still wasn’t objecting. He got up and stepped over to the Weapons Station to confer with the W.O. The collision was the endgame, but there was still a battle to fight before they got to that point.

  Phantom

  “He’s coming after us,” said the Helm Officer. Murphy nodded his agreement. Bogey1 was clearly veering away from Tigershark and Sorcerer and towards Phantom. That C.O. had taken the bait.

  “Ah, Commander, you should take a look at this,” said the Helm Officer in a voice that had just the tiniest hint of panic.

  Murphy quickly went over to the Helm Station and looked over the H.O.’s shoulder at his screen. “What is it, Ryan?”

  The H.O. pointed at the data window showing a PoC of 89%.
That was damned high and it was increasing. “That ship isn’t satisfied with a close interception. Look at what it’s doing.” Murphy looked at the navigation screen carefully. Unlike the tactical display, it showed not only projected trajectories based on current vectors, but also possible trajectories that met certain criteria such as collisions. Prior to the squadron splitting up, his three ships had been approaching Bogey1 on an interception vector based on its old, pre-suicide course change. The ‘suicide’ trajectory brought the interception point closer, and the combined trajectories looked like a crooked T. When the squadron split up, Tigershark and Sorcerer veered off sharply to the right, while Phantom brought its course slightly to the left, thereby positioning itself to engage Bogey1 with missile fire before Bogey1 reached optimum range on the other two ships. The message that Murphy was sending to the enemy commander was simple. You have to get past me first before you can shoot at the others. If Bogey1 had kept to its ‘suicide’ course, the minimum distance between it and Phantom would have increased, and the PoC would have dropped practically to zero.

  What the enemy commander was doing now would be deemed insane if not for the intervention of an implant. The angle of Bogey1’s trajectory was getting steeper. The ‘T’ was getting more crooked. Not only that, the projected minimum distance between them was dropping alarmingly fast.

  “You think he’s going for a head on?” asked Murphy in a subdued voice. He didn’t want to alarm the rest of the Bridge crew.

  The H.O. sighed. “I don’t know any other way to interpret this data. If he continues to swing past the optimum collision angle, then we’ll know he had something else in mind.”

  Both men stayed silent as they watched the PoC approach 100%. The rate of increase seemed to slow down as it got closer. When it reached 100%, Murphy held his breath waiting to see if Bogey1 would continue its course change which would cause the PoC to start dropping again. It didn’t.

  “Son…of…a…bitch!” said Murphy with feeling.

  “Yeah,” was all the H.O. said.

  Murphy checked the time to intercept. They still had just over 10 minutes to figure out what to do. “Let’s see what he does if we alter our vector slightly. Pick a direction and change our course by two degrees,” said Murphy, still speaking with a quiet voice. The H.O. executed the instructions, and they waited. How that enemy ship could see them was still a mystery. Then Murphy had an inspiration. “Are we silhouetted against the planet from Bogey1’s perspective?”

  The H.O. snapped his fingers and said, “Yes, by God. That’s how they’re tracking us. I should have thought of that myself.”

  The H.O. was the first to speak after a few more seconds of silent watching. “He’s adjusting his vector again.” The PoC, which had started to drop as a result of the two degree course change, was now climbing again. When it reached 100%, it stayed there. “Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken,” said the H.O. in a voice that contained more hope than conviction.

  Murphy was convinced that the enemy C.O. really did mean to engineer a head-on collision, but in order not to completely demoralize the Helm Officer, he said, “Yeah, maybe.” He gave the Helm Officer a quick pat on the back and walked over to the Com Station.

  “I need to speak with Tigershark’s and Sorcerer’s C.O. confidentially. Hand me that spare headset,” he said to the Com Tech. The crewman complied with the unusual request. Clearly the Skipper didn’t want his own Bridge crew to hear what he was about to discuss. He was tempted to listen in, but decided that maybe he didn’t really want to know.

  Murphy put on the headset, made sure it was active and then walked over to the side of the Bridge that was farthest away from Bridge personnel. He reminded himself to speak in a low voice for added privacy.

  “Rachel, Ernst, can you hear me?”

  “Not very well, Bret. You sound far away. Can you speak a bit louder?” asked Molitor.

  “No, and you’ll understand why shortly. Listen carefully and make sure you’re both recording this conversation. Bogey1 is maneuvering for a head-on collision. We’ve confirmed his intention by making minor course changes, and he’s adjusted his own course to compensate. That means that Phantom is going to be destroyed. Up until now, I’ve been the de facto leader of the Resistance. When I’m gone, I don’t want there to be any doubt as to who’s in charge. Rachel, I want you to assume command of all Resistance operations and personnel. You’re better trained and have more combat experience than anyone else. Ernst, do you agree with that?”

  After a short pause, Sorcerer’s C.O. said, “Ja, it’s the right choice. Commander Molitor will have my support.”

  “Very good, Ernst. Rachel, listen, there’s something that I haven’t told you yet. When I visited Vril, I left a message with the locals to pass on to the leader of the Brain Trust if they got the chance. His name is Roland Drake. I told him that we need to combine forces and that he can find us at Midgard. If a ship arrives there, you need to be aware that it might be from him. It’s a long shot I know, but if they’re able and willing to help us, it just might make all the difference.”

  “Oh, God, Bret. You took an awful big chance that they might pass that on to Empire personnel.”

  “I think it’s only a slight chance, Rachel. After all, these are people who supported the SSU’s secret R&D operation for most of the war. I can’t see them knowingly helping an Empire that’s controlled by a rogue computer.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can see your point. Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for them. Is there no way to avoid the collision, Bret?”

  “None that I can think of, Rachel. He won’t let us veer off.”

  “What about hitting him with missiles? Aiming them shouldn’t be a problem. If you can disable his ability to maneuver, then you can get out of his way.”

  Murphy felt like slapping his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That might work. I’ll try it. Anything else before we end this private huddle?”

  “Just good luck, Bret,” said Molitor.

  “And good hunting!” added Sorcerer’s C.O.

  “Thanks to both of you. I’m switching back to our normal com channels now.” He returned to the Com Station and handed the headset back without saying a word. Instead of returning to his Command Station, he headed for the Weapons Officer.

  “What have we got loaded in our tubes right now, Lieutenant?”

  “Six recons plus six heavy anties. The remaining six tubes are empty, Commander.”

  “Okay. I want a spread of recons launched, standard anti-missile detection profile, then all six heavies launched two seconds apart. While they’re launching, load another six recons and then replace the launched missiles with the same thing again. Have another recon spread and the second round of heavies programmed so that I can launch them from my station. Begin launching the recons when ready. Wait for my command before you begin launching the heavies. Any questions?”

  “No, Sir,” said the young officer confidently. Murphy gave him a little smile and a pat of approval.

  “Recons have been fired,” said the W.O. as Murphy finished buckling himself into his Command Chair.

  “Six heavy anties programmed for two second sequential firing are ready, Sir.”

  Let’s hope this works. “Commence firing,” said Murphy with as much confidence as he could muster.

  Empire Cruiser Agincourt

  “Fire!” yelled Hendricks in a hoarse voice. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice. Must be the adrenaline, he thought to himself.

  “Any sign of return fire, Weps?”

  Before the W.O. could respond, the display pinged, and another text message from Ground Control scrolled across the bottom of the display.

  [Single enemy ship has launched a six missile volley followed by six more sequentially. You are ordered to break off your attack. Acknowledge this order.]

  Hendricks wanted to signal back that he couldn’t break off, but the implant decided not to let him. The rising pain only subside
d when he mentally acknowledged that he would not reply.

  “Block any further verbal or text messages from Ground Control,” Hendricks ordered his Com Tech. If he didn’t see them, he wouldn’t have to worry about the implant acting up again.

  “What’s the status of our volley?” he asked.

  “Twelve missiles launched and on course. Estimated time to impact is two point three three minutes,” said the W.O.

  Hendricks relaxed. The missiles with their much higher acceleration would reach the enemy ship long before Agincourt would, and if he was lucky, they would damage that ship before it could fire its own missiles back at him. It didn’t matter, though, if his missiles were successful. He had a feeling that the implant wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than a head on collision. From the implant’s perspective, that was the only way to be sure of the enemy ship’s complete destruction. He doubted if the device was programmed well enough to understand that there was no real difference between a destroyed enemy ship and a crippled enemy ship. The latest bout of pain was now giving him a headache. Two more minutes. I just have to hold it together for two more minutes, and then I’ll be free. He made the mistake of looking at the chronometer which seemed to tick off the seconds unusually slowly. At this rate, two minutes would seem like two hours. He forced himself to look away.