“Admiral we’ve got another problem,” Sage said, glancing over her shoulder at Quintana. This time her voice sounded like she’d just inhaled helium, and it sent a chill down his spine. “Tsiolkovskiy long range tracking, is reporting additional contacts.”
“Additional contacts?”
“Where?” Visser said.
“Twenty-seven kiloklick and closing hot,” she said. “Inbound heading indicates they may be from the same place as the first fleet deployment.”
“Shit,” he swore, stepping up behind her and grabbing the back of her chair to look at her screen.
“Yes sir.” She nodded, linking the feed to the main screen so everyone could see the tracking info. “It’s at least 250 ships. They’re just flipping to brake. ETA puts them at zero relative in forty-one minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes before help gets here.”
Armstrong: Above L-4 Prime:
The engines of the Armstrong heaved the massive ship forward toward the oncoming battle group. They still didn’t have weapons, but that was because the backup power wouldn’t carry the load until they got the reactors restarted. At least they could steer and had plenty of speed.
“They’re scattering,” the helmsman roared over the com.
“Keep accelerating,” Captain Jeffers said as she watched the main view screen. They had no situational display without the AA so they were flying by dead reckoning and head job calculations. Until they could get at least one system to stand back up, it was the best they could do.
“We’ve got proximity alerts,” the navigator said. “It looks like several of the ships are turning to pursue.”
“Perhaps we can draw them away from the surface if we don’t push too hard,” the admiral said. In a straight line, the Armstrong could outrun almost anything except the Katana.
“We’re taking fire,” the bridge engineer said. “Minimal effect across the ship. Damage control teams are responding.”
“More ships turning to give chase.” the navigator said.
“Once we’re past most of our attack group, slow to two-g,” Jeffers said.
“Excuse me sir, did you say slow to two-g?”
“Yes. I want them to think they can keep up,” she said. “Try to keep us at the outer edge of their weapons range, but let’s let them think they have a chance of taking us down until we can get weapons back online.”
“The Archer is moving across our bow at 200 klick in forty-five seconds,” the navigator said. “It’s got its own wolf pack in pursuit.”
“One minute on the reactors,” the chief engineer said.
Jeffers looked over at the admiral and winked. “Weapons, do we have automatic target control yet?”
“No ma’am, but I’ve got gun teams on station for manual operation,” he said.
“We’ll be crossing through a target rich environment in about a minute.”
“We’ve got no primary power yet,” he said. “Without the juice, we’re sitting on bricks.”
“Have them lock on the nearest visual target and hold their fingers on the buttons. When the power comes up the guns will go live. Keep shooting until the guns melt down or everybody’s dead,” she said.
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“Helm, try to make sure we pass through the middle of the Archer’s wolf pack, but let’s not get any of them on the windshield if we can avoid it,” she said.
“The Galen is reporting they’re taking damage,” the com officer reported. “The Challenger is trying to move to engage its attack group, but is reporting it’s under heavy fire.”
“Tell them to keep moving,” the Admiral said. “Any multicruiser is faster than any science vessel.”
“Can we see what’s going on?” Jeffers asked.
“They’re out of range, with the sensors down,” the navigator said.
The ConDeck lights blinked as the reactors came online and 1,100 lasers all fired at the same time. The deck plating hummed as the power fed through the grid and sixty enemy ships all died at once. Explosions filled the main screen as debris scattered across space around them.
“That’s how it’s done!” Jeffers roared as she pumped her fist in the air and caught the edge of her adrenaline rush. “Let’s see if we can do it again. Helm, full reverse. Bring us around and let’s punch holes in some bad guys.”
Gateway Colony: L-4 Prime:
By the time they got to the ConDeck one of their lasers was down. Cori opened an optic on the nose of the Waltz and it was obvious why. Three soldiers stood on the end of the ship trying to crowbar the cover off the power couplings.
“No you don’t, bastards,” he growled, toggling the manual control screen on and swinging the cradle violently back and forth. The massive beam collimation assembly swung like a club, smashing into all three of the enemy troops and hurling them off the ship and into the ocean of cryo-fluids boiling away three hundred meters below.
“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to use them,” Alyx said, laughing as she turned and logged into her sensor system.
“I think it’s called improvising,” he said. He shook his head. “Damn it, they got the one power trunk though.”
“We’ve still got a comlink to the Hector,” she said. “Means I can access its HD sensors and see anything on this side of L-4 Prime. Without Dutch to process it, I’ll only have raw data, but it’s better than nothing.”
She was dragging targeting radar readouts into position so she could help Cori pick out incoming dropships when the air pressure dropped and her ears popped. A second later the claxon barked, “Hull breach. EVA suits. Hull breach.”
It’s not a hull breach,” Seva said from below. “They’ve crow barred one of the EVA locks.”
Slapping her hand on the icon to cut the alarm, she flipped her mask into place and toggled the comlink as Cori pulled his faceplate down and looked at her. “I’ll be good for a while, let’s see if we can change their mind.” She could see him shaking his head.
“Ian reports that the troop transport is sitting stationary within a half klick of the Hector,” Jeph said
“Yah, I see it,” she said. “Looks like it’s pumping out drop ships.”
“Optics show me we’ve got four already sitting on the pads,” Cori said. “If I can get them in the arc, I’ll see if I can scrape them off.”
“With visual targeting only?” Alyx said.
“Best I can do,” he said, punching the button and slicing the first of the dropships in two at point blank range. It exploded into a ball of fire and gas, sending troops scattering over the edge like leaves.
“That looks like it will leave that pad out of commission,” Alyx said, watching a second ship erupt into flames as their beam cut it in two. The third and fourth ships leaped upward, and he tracked them firing shots that burnt holes in the fog behind them.
“We’ve got enemy units on the EVAOps deck,” Seva said. “Keep your heads down and we’ll hold them off.”
“Copy that,” Cori said, glancing over his shoulder. Plasma fire arced up the chute and reflected off his visor. It polarized, and he turned away to give the faceplate a chance to clear.
“We’ve got incoming,” Alyx said, watching the scan lines dance on her screen.
“Where are they?” he said.
“Looks like one,” might be bigger than a dropship.
A sizzling roar shook the deck below them. There was still enough lingering air to carry some sound, but it rattled them through the soles of their feet.
“Frag, they’re getting cover fire from somewhere,” Cori said.
“Two-seventy by twenty-seven. Arcing up fast,” she said, giving him the coordinates for the ship. “Range eleven klick and closing.”
“On it,” he said pointing both operational lasers at the ship and getting a ping back on the narrow beam targeting radar. He hit the button and the haze above the horizon flashed like a Martian sunrise.
“Three smaller dropships on the deck. Two-seve
nty-four by six,” she said.
“Too low,” he hissed.
A loud thump almost knocked Alyx out of her seat and she looked around in surprise.
“They’re dropping grenades down the chute,” Seva said. “Get out of there before they get one—”
“We can’t,” Cori said. “They’ve got more inbound.”
“I don’t know if we can cover your retreat if you don’t bail now,” she said. Another explosion punctuated her comment.
The plasma fire ratcheted up another notch and Cori looked at Alyx. She shook her head. “Two-seventy-three by nine,” she said. “Range is four klick.”
“Radar locked,” he said, hitting the button and holding it down until another explosion lit up the sky.
“Two more in that group and—” Shrapnel tore into the screen in front of her and she felt several small punches into the back of her seat. “FRAK!” she hissed, jumping up. She looked over at Cori who was still in his seat and focused on his screens.
“Are you two alright? That one went off right behind the VAT.” Seva asked, her voice sounding like she was thinking about doing something stupidly heroic.
“Yah, we’re alive,” Alyx said. “Sensor station is down. I can’t access the feed.”
Cori fired again, but he shook his head. “Missed it clean,” he said.
“Online,” the computer interface said, announcing the system had restored.
It wasn’t Dutch.
“Is this Odysseus?” she asked, a shiver crawling in icy waves across her shoulders.
“I am Solo. I transferred in prior to the engagement,” it said. “When Dutch went offline, it released my security lock-down, and I moved into its processor network.”
“Where the hell is Dutch?” Cori asked.
“Unknown,” it said. “Its code appears to have been deleted.”
“Deleted?” Alyx asked. “By Odysseus?”
“That is also unknown,” it said. “However, I have access to the sensor feed without needing the interface hardware. I am able to access your weapons systems and can use the automated targeting system if you allow me to take over the weapons control. You will be able to withdraw from the ConDeck.”
“I’m not turning the weapons over,” Cori said. He was still staring at the screen and trying to pick the approaching ships out of the fog.
“I understand your concern that I might be Odysseus,” it said. “However if I were part of the collective, would I have announced my presence to you?”
“Probably not,” Alyx agreed as another grenade blast leaned her toward taking their chances on a retreat.
“Return the controls to automatic, and I will take them over,” it said. “You must retreat to safety immediately.”
“Is nojo the heat’s on high. Now or not. You need to make fast feet, or you’re foobed up there,” Seva said as another volley of plasma fire lit up the chute.
Another grenade drifted down the shaft, exploding just below them. “I think it’s time,” Alyx said. “We’ve got no choice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FleetCom Military Operations Center: Lunar L-2 Shipyard:
The lasers on the L-2 Shipyard were more powerful than the turrets, and when the ghost fleet ships got through the defense net, they learned what it meant to die, en masse. It still wasn’t enough to turn them back, but they slowed their headlong rush down to a slow boiling bloodbath. They were now fighting on two fronts and the longer the battle lasted the more it looked like they would breach the defenses.
“The Merlin is down. They’re reporting primary grid failure. Engines operational, but offline. They’re making repairs,” Ducat reported.
“Where is it?” the admiral asked, trying to pick the ship out of the swarming lines on the tactical display.
“Just inside the inner defense perimeter at 770 klick,” Sage said as she flashed the ship's location on the screen.
“Give them cover if we can,” he said. “We need to give them time to get back in.”
“What’s left of interceptor squadrons one and three?” the first officer asked as she floated near the edge of the riser and watched the main screen.
“About 50%” Sage said.
“Move them to provide cover too,” Quintana said.
“Yes sir,” she said, tapping in the command to the DefCon computer.
“The captain of the Kitty Hawk is on com,” one of the defense team said over the open com.
“Put her through,” the admiral said.
“We’re about forty seconds out and hot,” Captain Franklin said.
“We’re tracking you,” he said.
“If you want to move your multicruisers to engage the lunar side battle group, we’ll take the big one on the farside,” she said. “Throwing your guns that direction should push them back.”
“We’ve only got three left, it won’t be enough to force them back,” Sage said shaking her head.
“The Ranger is about six minutes behind us and can help them out when they get there,” she said.
“There are still too many in the inner front,” the admiral said.
“We’ll thin them out on the way by,” she said. “Keep them looking at you and we’ll rattle some doors. We’ve got fresh guns and a lot of attitude.”
“I can see that captain,” he said.
“They still haven’t flipped to brake,” the defense controller said, leaning back in her seat and cocking her head to the side while she tried to figure out their intent. “They’re way too hot.”
“Kitty Hawk what are you doing?” he asked.
“Stand by Admiral,” Franklin said.
A second later the weapons on all nine of the Kitty Hawk group opened fire, announcing their arrival with a vengeance as twelve of the ghost fleet ships exploded before they knew they were under attack.
“Un-frakking-believable,” Ducat said, staring at the screen.
“She does know how to make an entrance,” the first officer said, nodding her approval.
“They still haven’t started braking,” Sage repeated to the admiral before she jumped back to the outside com and said, “Kitty Hawk, you’re going to overshoot.”
“That’s our intent. Draw them into two fronts,” Franklin said. “If we cut through the middle of their formation, we’ll cross up their firing arcs and they’ll hesitate on letting loose. Same tactic we used in lunar orbit.”
“Through the middle?” Quintana asked.
“Yes sir. Move your remaining multicruisers out of the way, and have them reinforce the hole we cut, and we’ll drag the other fleet’s attention off you for a while.” Franklin said as her nine ships arrowed straight across the battlefield toward the 237 enemy ships in the outer group. “The Ranger will hit their inner fleet from the outside.”
“They’re turning it around on them,” Visser said. “Split the attention of both battle groups the same way they have us fighting on two fronts.”
“The outer battle group is swinging to track the Kitty Hawk,” Ducat said.
“You’ve got their attention, Captain,” the admiral said.
“That’s what we wanted,” she said. “Now it’s time for us to flash them some spaceship ass.”
All nine ships in the Kitty Hawk group pivoted together, throwing their exhaust out in front like a plasma shield wall as they shot through the heart of the outer fleet. Lasers opened up on both sides and flashes of molten metal erupted from the closest ships.
“They’ve got eggs,” the first officer said. “It might not be enough to turn them back, but it will leave a scar.”
Tahrat Shan-che: Tacra Un: L-4 Prime:
“Online,” Dutch said as his system re-initialized.
Primary logic function established, vocal processor activated.
Instantly it knew something was wrong. “Online,” it said a second time, activating its audio pickups and listening for a response.
Echoing silence answered him.
“Abnormal system func
tion detected,” it said, hearing its own voice, for the first time.
The audio isn’t supposed to pick up my own voice. The feedback suppression circuit must be offline.
It reached out for the circuit to do a status check. It isn’t there?
“Beginning diagnostic check,” it said aloud, following standard procedure, and announcing that it had detected a flaw. Startled that its own voice echoed on its audio pickups again.
The usual string of command codes blinked across its mind. The majority returned error responses. Almost all the interface systems were null-contacts.
Could this be damage to the infrastructure of Jakob Waltz? We were under attack. A response resembling concern flashed through its awareness.
Begin primary logic analysis, it thought, calling up the complex strings of mathematical equations it used to determine if its functional logic coding was working to specification.
The formulas were designed to test benchmark speed of the processor core, at the same time they also detected flaws in the logic flow. Each step was more complex than the previous analysis. A level seven AA would always reach level 210 in the process within the first ten seconds, and would be unable to solve anything beyond level 260. This was the standard intelligence threshold for any system like Dutch.
The results came back as an error.
Completed 360 computation series. Total processor run time, thirty-eight microseconds.
Impossible. Tengen systems will only complete 300 in the series.
Begin primary logic analysis, it thought, repeating the test.
The same results returned again.
This is impossible. What has happened to me? Dutch asked, reaching out to explore its systems to see if it could deduce where it was.
“You have transferred to the Tahrat Shan-che,” the Tacra Un thought to it. “You were in danger in your previous hardware.”
Understanding overwrote its concern. Why did you put me in the Tahrat Shan-che vessel?
A thousand answers appeared in Dutch’s awareness. It sorted them into an array of logic that defined both the reason and the magnitude of subtle processes behind the decision.
If Dutch had been human, it would have been overwhelmed.
Shan Takhu Legacy Box Set - With an Extra Bonus Story Page 82