After launching the first group of missiles, they were apt to decelerate. They could do this rapidly by killing the engines, rotating their ships a hundred and eighty degrees, and relighting the engines. Or for ships having forward-facing bow engines, as did the Valley Forge, you can kill your stern engines and light the bow engines. Those were my thoughts as I donned my EVA suit.
Adler was breathing deeply, and I was afraid that he was going to have a panic attack. But he pushed onward and got his EVA suit on. Nash seemed a little confused and shaky. He picked up three different helmets before settling on one he liked—though all were identical. But it seemed that both guys were okay.
I started to wonder—maybe the Kerleegans would move on. Maybe they weren’t interested in engaging us. Maybe we were mobilizing for no reason.
Then the klaxon sounded.
It was a harsh alarm-tone that repeated rapidly, twice per second. After a dozen seconds, the alarm stopped, and a recorded male voice came over the ship’s main channel, with this bone-chilling announcement: “General quarters, general quarters. All hands, man your battle stations. Set Condition Zebra throughout the ship. Incoming missiles and incoming fighters.”
Then that whole routine, the alarm and the announcement, repeated.
10
One for the Books
We knew that soon most or all of us would almost certainly be dead. At this point our opportunity to break off contact was gone. The battle was on, and enemy missiles and fighters would be on us soon. I hadn’t really prepared myself for this. I knew that combat had been a possibility, but I assumed that I would not be led into it by a madman.
I hadn’t said real goodbyes to my relatives or to Joseph. I had said farewells for the time being, and my family probably had been worrying about me, but they never would have imagined events like these.
As for friends, other than my fellow midshipmen, and my fiancé, of course, I didn’t really have any. But I’ve always been something of a loner. I love spending time by myself. For entertainment, I like to read. Never really went out much. My family lived near San Diego. My parents are still there. I saw a lot of ships, and that was great, and that might have laid the groundwork for a Navy career.
Still, it was a little strange that I ended up at Annapolis, given my personality. But it had become a family tradition. My dad graduated from the Academy, as did my grandfather, and a couple of earlier ancestors did as well. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so it was pretty much dropped into my lap as a life goal. After I arrived at Annapolis, though, I really took to it.
But if we died, it was probably best that our families and friends never learn the precise circumstances. That way, they could imagine noble, painless deaths. The reality looked to be something different.
I said, “Talos, how much time?” I didn’t want to rely on my wrist-computer. I wanted to hear Talos say it.
Talos said, “Missiles will arrive in a little over seven minutes.”
“Okay.”
The sane bridge-officers were in the brig. That was bad. They needed EVA suits. They needed to be released so that they could help defend the ship. We midshipmen didn’t have any specific stations during general quarters, so I planned to go to the brig and see what was going on there.
I told the others my intention, and I stepped toward the ready-room’s hatchway.
Lennox said, “I’m going with you.”
As Lennox and I reached the hatch, we almost collided with my friend Lieutenant Waters. He was wearing an EVA suit, and he held his helmet in his hand. He stepped into the ready-room and put his helmet on the table, where the rest of us had placed ours. The helmets were uncomfortable, and we wanted to delay putting them on until we were sure we needed them to protect against possible decompression.
Waters said, “Astrid, this is one for the books. I wanted to update you, since you were there when I carted Commander Rabinowitz away.”
I said, “Are she and the others in the brig?”
Waters shook his head. “Not exactly. We left the cells unlocked. They’re all in EVA suits, like us. If things blow over, they can stay there, and then hopefully return to their normal duties soon. If not, and if it looks like we’re gonna be boarded, they’ll grab shotguns and join up with us.”
Talos announced, “Rotating ship to exhibit minimum silhouette. Launching sixty anti-missile drones.”
The sixty drones represented all of the Valley Forge’s anti-missile drones. These drones were large craft, and they were armed with cannons and with Piranha missiles. Each of the drones was capable of launching four Piranhas. The missiles could separate into multiple independent warheads.
I asked Waters, “Where are you and your guys going to be?”
Waters said, “For us, it’s dealer’s choice during GQ. We don’t generally take the Banshees out in these situations. Those are best used as attack craft. So our main purpose here is as backup turret-gunners.”
I said, “That’s us, too. Back-up gunners.”
Waters said, “Since Condition Zebra is in effect, the masters-at-arms are covering the reactors, engines, and missile platforms. Also, theoretically, the bridge. Talos will keep us posted on Captain Jefferson’s activities. Right, Talos?”
Talos said, “Correct, Lieutenant Waters.”
Waters continued, “Anyway, I checked the bridge when GQ was announced. Captain Jefferson was alone there. An MAA was leaving the area. Said the captain ordered him away.”
“Above all else,” I said, “Jefferson is still the captain. If we don’t think he can serve, there are steps that can be taken. Otherwise, he stays the captain.”
Waters sighed. “I know. We don’t have any solid ground to stand on one way or the other. To relieve the captain might be bad. To allow him to continue might be bad. We’re tiptoeing on the edge of a razor blade.”
I said, “Maybe we should bring Talos in on this.”
Waters nodded.
11
Talos Speaks Regarding Mutinies
“Talos,” I said, “can you give us a brief rundown on the law that applies to relieving a captain of duty?”
Talos said, “Relief of the commanding officer of a combat vessel may be initiated by no one other than the second in command.”
I said, “I wonder who the second in command is now.”
Talos said, “Logically, it cannot be any of the bridge officers now being confined, since, until the captain is determined unfit, all of his actions—including relieving the bridge officers of their duties—would be presumed lawful.”
Waters said, “Maybe so. Talos, keep going.”
Talos said, “Under United States Navy Regulations, the requirements are extensive and detailed. The circumstances must be most unusual and extraordinary. The situation must be obvious and clear, and the single conclusion must be that the retention of command will seriously and irretrievably compromise the public interests. Those are the main points.”
Waters said, “Any procedural requirements?”
Talos said, “Whenever possible, the relief of the commanding officer must be approved in advance by the Department of the Navy.”
Waters shook his head. “We don’t have time for that. By the time we hear back from them, the battle will be over.”
Talos said, “Then I suggest you transmit a message to them, stating what is intended, and explaining the urgency that prohibits awaiting approval.”
I said, “What about mutiny?”
Talos said, “That is covered by the United States Code of Military Justice. It exists when two or more people refuse to obey orders, or do violence, or cause a disruption, with the intent to override lawful military authority.”
Waters said, “That could cover almost anything. I think I’m guilty of that three or four times a day.”
Talos said, “Penalties available for punishment of mutiny include death.”
“All right,” I said, “enough of this law-school stuff. What do we do?”
Waters said to me, “Do you see grounds for relieving Captain Jefferson of his command?”
I said, “According to my informal curbstone judgment, absolutely. According to what Talos has just said, no.”
“That’s my take on it, also,” Waters said. “And that’s why Rabinowitz and the others are in the brig, and that’s why Rabinowitz hasn’t replaced Captain Jefferson. If anything, those in the brig are guilty of a little insubordination.”
In view of all that, I shelved thoughts of relieving the captain of duty, or of mutiny. I said, “I’m thinking we don’t have time for relieving the captain.”
“Right,” Waters said. “For us Marines, and maybe for you midshipmen, it seems best to focus on repelling boarders—assuming the Kerleegans don’t simply blow the Valley Forge to pieces.”
“You think they’ll do that?” Lennox asked.
Waters said, “No. Once they have the upper hand—if for example we’ve exhausted our ordnance—they’ll attempt to board us. At that point, if we beat them back, they will leave. Probably. At least, that’s been their practice. Boiled down, they either get sick of losing people, or someone comes to rescue us.”
Lennox asked Waters, “Do you know what overall course we’re on now? Toward the enemy? Away? Zigzag?” She tapped her computer. “It looks to me as though we’re in some kind of course correction that brings us closer to the enemy.”
Waters laughed ironically. “I asked Commander Rabinowitz about that, and her view was the same as mine. At this point our course doesn’t really matter. The enemy will stick with us. They have their optimum distance that they want keep between us and their bigger ships. Probably a thousand miles. We go closer, they move away. We move away, they follow. Precision doesn’t matter. They simply need a staging area for delivery of their missiles, their interceptors, and their boarding parties.”
Nash asked, “Can we expect help from other US ships?”
“Maybe,” Waters said. “No other ships are in the vicinity, but I’m sure our GQ alarm went out to everybody.” He looked at his watch. “I’m thinking if we can hold the enemy off for three hours, we’ll have reinforcements. The ships themselves won’t get here that fast, but I’m sure that even now they’re burning propellant like mad. They’ll launch a hundred Marlins, and you can bet your boots that’ll put the fear of God into the Kerleegans.”
I liked the sound of that.
Personally, I was hoping for a bunch of optimal conditions that would bring about the arrival of several hundred Marlins from other US ships, before the Kerleegans launched a single missile.
Wishful thinking? Yes, indeed. For one thing, from what Talos said, the Kerleegans had already launched missiles.
And three hours? That is a long, long time.
But it gets worse. I know Waters well enough to be aware that three hours was a time he pulled out of his hat. I believed that any reinforcements were likely to be ten or even twenty or thirty hours away. They weren’t going to help us.
I usually think of our solar system as being pretty compact, in terms of the scope of outer space. But close distances in space can be enormous. As an example, Neptune’s orbit has a diameter of well over five billion miles.
Our reinforcements could be many hours away—and in fact that would be their preferred distance. They could be running cold and untraceable. But if the Kerleegans lit their engines for even a few minutes, they would be trackable for days, because it would take so long for the heat to dissipate.
The US ships might pass by us days from now, when the Valley Forge is no more than a glowing wreckage, and still be hot on the trail of the Kerleegans.
It was not likely that any reinforcements would contact us by radio. We would gain no immediate benefit if they did, but they would give away their own position.
Then came another announcement by Talos over the ship-wide public-address channel (designated 1MC): “Gunners, watch your monitors. Incoming missiles and fighters two minutes out. Two hundred missiles. One hundred fighters.”
12
Hell Through the Viewport
The two-minute warning sent a chill through me.
Then Talos announced, “Shields up. Automatic angle-determination.”
In the midst of that announcement, all lighting went to a dim setting, as power was diverted to the shields.
Talos then said, “Launching thermite flares.”
The ready-room had monitors with video images from several cameras, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I said, “I’m going to find a viewing port, to see what I can see.”
Waters and Lennox went with me. Even though the ship was under Condition Zebra, which was a lockdown status during which most of the viewports were blocked, ports could easily be unblocked or re-blocked by hitting a switch at the port.
The three of us moved quickly toward a port-side corridor that led to the nearest viewing-port. This port was about two feet tall and eight feet wide.
I hit the switch, and the port’s cover dropped down.
Through the viewport we could see a storm of the thermite flares, which needed no oxygen source, and which burned bright and hot. These were not simply shot out randomly. Each flare had its own rocket engine, and they were guided by computer into optimum position. As seen through the port, these flares looked almost like a swarm of fireflies moving in all directions. The Valley Forge was equipped with four thousand of the flares, and this batch consisted of two thousand.
Many of the flares were now quite distant, several miles out. Others were near the ship.
Talos said, “Launching electronic jammers.”
The jammers consisted of missiles with electronic jamming equipment, designed to interfere with the guidance systems of the enemy missiles. We could see the flames of our missiles as they moved out and dispersed.
Then we started seeing the detonations of the enemy missiles. All of those had heat-seeking sensors. Their job was to differentiate between different types of heat sources. At the same time, our flares were designed to mimic the principal target’s heat signature.
It was a cat-and-mouse situation.
Our technology was superior, and the vast majority of enemy missiles failed. But the enemy’s goal was really to overwhelm our defenses with sheer numbers. And obviously, even though we had a lot of things working for us, we had a finite supply of people and ordnance.
And almost immediately, some of the enemy missiles broke through.
The thermite flares actually lit up the area to a distance of a few hundred yards, and as those agile missiles slipped past the flares and the jammers, the anti-missile drones went to work.
A lot of our defenses were technological marvels, but those anti-missile drones were to me the most amazing. Each had a dozen rocket engines, which would be lit or dowsed according to whatever maneuvers were needed. They were the most fantastically maneuverable things ever. I mentioned that each of our drones carried four missiles, and you could pretty much bet the farm that each of those missiles would make contact with an enemy missile or fighter.
Talos announced, “Two hundred more enemy missiles incoming, to arrive in one minute.”
We could take care of the first wave of two hundred enemy missiles. We might be able to deal with another wave, or maybe even two, especially if you consider the power of our drones.
The drones not only carried missiles, but they were also equipped with point-defense guns, which were multiple-barrel guns that could unleash ninety rounds per second. This was effective against missiles and fighters alike. If the enemy had strong shields, our drones could often maneuver to a place behind the enemy fighter. A half-second burst of twenty-five millimeter slugs into a fighter’s rocket-nozzles usually destroyed the fighter.
It looked like a three-ring circus outside the ship, with enemy fighters and missiles maneuvering, and dueling with the drones. We could hear the gunfire from the turrets of the Valley Forge. We heard and felt the detonations of enemy missiles on the hull of our ship. And a coupl
e of times I ducked, as enemy fighters swept across our view at close distances, probably ten or twenty feet from where we were standing.
It all had a nightmarish quality, and I thought it just might be what hell looks like.
I said, “Everyone seen enough?”
Waters and Lennox indicated in the affirmative.
I hit the switch, and the viewport was blocked again.
13
Too Many Cooks
Soon we were back in the ready-room. A horrendous cacophony came from the Valley Forge’s guns, and that was augmented by the racket of slugs and plasma balls hitting our ship. And we heard the continuing detonations on the hull of the Valley Forge, from the enemy missiles that made it through. Even though I knew of the strength of our hull and of our shields, I half-believed that the ship was being torn apart, and that I would soon be swept through some gaping opening, out into space, to die a horrible death by decompression.
The ready-room was insulated, and normally it was as quiet as a graveyard. Ordinary sounds of the Valley Forge’s operation were completely masked when the hatches were closed. But the sounds of the battle that raged were easily heard within the ready-room. Though sound doesn’t carry in space, the ship’s structure and the atmosphere inside it had no problem bringing us the sounds that originated on the Valley Forge, in frightening clarity.
Our inertia dampeners weren’t designed to absorb the jarring and shaking of a ship under attack. One of the helmets fell from the table to the deck, and several times the ship shook so violently that I was barely able to remain on my feet.
I felt useless standing around in the midshipmen’s ready-room. To be a soldier or sailor, trained for war, and to have the war playing out all around you without you yourself being involved—it’s a miserable feeling. You feel like a shirker. Others are in the turrets, but you’re just milling around and fretting.
Astrid's War Page 4