Renegades (Expeditionary Force Book 7)

by Craig Alanson

  “Ugh. No, because, dumdum, I am still prohibited from using weapons. Don’t you pay attention at all when I talk? I swear, talking to you is like-”

  “You are not blocked from feeding data to the missile guidance system, right?”

  “Hmm, I guess not. Damn it, I should have thought of that. Nagatha! I am transferring my sensor data to you, interpret it and feed it into the missile targeting system for me.”

  “Yes, dear,” Nagatha was fairly giggling with delight. She had the same restrictions as Skippy, but this was her big chance to finally participate in blowing shit up. Although Nagatha sounded like a kindly old aunt, she had a naughty streak. “Missile guidance cores are updated with targeting data. How many would you like to launch, Joseph?”

  “Huh?” It startled me to have Nagatha inquiring about use of weapons. “All of them!”

  Skippy was skeptical. “Um, all of them, Joe?”

  “Hell yes! We won’t get a better shot at that ship!” Pointing at Simms in the CIC, I got a thumbs up from her, and the display showed missiles ripple-firing from our launchers, including the aft launchers that were facing away from the enemy. Each launcher had three missiles in a rotary canister; three birds flew out of the launch shaft, then the canister pulled back to reload. Two of our forward launchers had a speed-loader that Skippy had added when he rebuilt the ship at Newark, so those two rotary canisters had three missiles each slammed into them at once at each reload. The other launchers needed the canister to stop three times in its rotation, to reload with one missile at a time. Regardless of the mechanisms used, we had all of our depleted supply of warbirds running hot within thirty five seconds. When I ordered Simms to launch everything we had, that included the big shipkillers that were in the forward launchers, plus missiles that had no possibility of causing serious damage to a Maxolhx ship, but could help overwhelm the enemy’s proximity-defense system. Flying toward the enemy ship were missiles with big shipkiller warheads, other missiles dedicated to jamming enemy sensors, smaller missiles designed for use against surface targets or dropships, and missiles with warheads that split into dozens of decoys. The shipkillers were hypervelocity birds, capable of accelerating at thousands of Gees for a short time. Added to the boost all missiles got from the railguns of the launch tubes, the furious acceleration of hypervelocity weapons allowed them to streak in without wasting energy and precious time on evasive maneuvers to throw off the aim of enemy defense cannons. Coordinated by Skippy who technically could not use weapons but was outstanding at recommending tactics for the ship’s targeting system to apply, our missiles tried every tactic Skippy had up his devious little sleeve. Two shipkillers slammed out of their launch tubes straight at the enemy and were still accelerating at twenty four thousands Gees when both of them were intercepted more than seventeen thousand kilometers from the target. Ok, I did not expect such a crude attack to succeed, but my hope was the enemy’s sensors were as confused as ours, and hitting the Maxolhx ASAP before their Proximity-Defense System could reboot was worth a shot.

  Behind the first two missiles, another three shipkillers lingered in a cloud of lesser birds that provided jamming, decoys and simply a lot of targets to saturate enemy defenses. Instead of using their hyper acceleration capability to surge ahead, our last three shipkillers jinked wildly at random, staying within the cover of the other birds. Skippy had explained that most evasive flight maneuvers were not as random as the missile’s designers thought, because he was usually able to detect a pattern while missiles came at us, giving our PDS cannons an advantage. When Skippy the Magnificent recommended evasive actions for our missiles, they jinked left, right, up, down, faster then slower in a truly random fashion that had to be maddeningly frustrating to the computers of the arrogant Maxolhx. The enemy PDS cannons nibbled away at our cloud of missiles, I watched with a sick feeling as icons on the display blinked out rapidly. In space combat, most thing happened rapidly, so seeing a rapid decline in the number of birds we had in flight was not unexpected, and I was encouraged that all three shipkillers escaped the maser cannon barrage of the enemy, while our lesser missiles moved slower to offer easy and tempting targets to the Maxolhx AI that was coordinating the defense. In only a few seconds, the trio of shipkillers would reach the imaginary line where they would stop screwing around with the evasive stuff, and slam forward to fulfill their destinies by ripping into the enemy hull.

  In the blink of an eye, all our hopes were dashed. From one second to the next, the glowing red icons of our three best missiles winked out. “What the hell happened?” I shouted in anguish as other icons closed with the enemy. We got two impacts, just two, and neither of those warheads penetrated anything vital.

  “The damned AI aboard that ship is smart,” Skippy groaned with a touch of admiration. “It realized we were allowing it to hit missiles we didn’t care about, so it took a calculated risk. The AI directed their PDS to concentrate fire on the only three missiles that were truly moving randomly. Those missiles got bracketed too fast for me to adjust from here, they all flew into maser bolts. If it is any consolation, one of the shipkiller warheads sent shrapnel into the enemy’s portside sensor array when it detonated. I am sorry, Joe.”

  Slumping in my chair, my brain locked up as I processed the horror of our situation. Our missile magazines were empty, all our warshots expended for nothing. For nothing. While I tried to think of something, anything we could do, Skippy poured gasoline on the fire.

  “Uh oh, Joe. The Maxolhx are demanding that we surrender, and they know humans are in control of the Dutchman!”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Damage to our hull has caused leakage from communications relays. I thought the leakage was minimal and that I had the electromagnetic radiation contained and scrambled, but once again it appears I have underestimated our opponent. They must have been able to decrypt enough data to determine who is aboard this ship. Again,” he gave a world-weary sigh, “I truly am sorry.”

  Part of me wanted to scream at him that being sorry was bullshit because we were all going to die and my reckless plan had exposed our secret and doomed our homeworld. That was the little Joey Bishop part of me, the childish undisciplined part that lashed out emotionally and accomplished nothing. Fortunately, the United States Army had somehow trained into me the ability to put emotions aside for the moment and focus on solving the problem. “Are they telling the whole galaxy about us?”

  “No, I am jamming their transmissions, that is one bit of good news. Another potential bit of good news is that I am able to read some of their internal message traffic, through leaks in their hull. Those kitties are in a full-blown panic, Joe. They have no idea how humans could have captured a Thuranin star carrier, and our destruction of the other ship demonstrates we have capabilities they can only imagine. Some of them are speculating correctly that humans are responsible for the alarming behavior of Elder wormhole, and that thought has them scared out of their minds. I mean, actually scared out of their minds, some of them are babbling incoherently. There is a theory flying around that humans have only been pretending to have primitive technology, that Earth is a fake, that the true human homeworld is more advanced than even the Rindhalu and- Ooooh, now here is a truly whacky conspiracy theory. Joe, they are afraid that humans are really a group of Elders who decided not to ascend. Hmm, that actually would explain some questions I have had about how human development, like-”

  While he was repeating unhelpful theories, I was looking at the main display on the bulkhead to the right of the pilot couches. My heart skipped a beat and I fumbled with the display controls to zoom in the image. “Skippy! That ship’s energy shields are down?”

  “Yup. Yes, why? That is why those two wimpy little missiles were able to cause damage, although of course not enough to-”

  There was still a chance, if we acted quickly enough, and if we had any luck at all. “Is our main maser cannon available?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he didn’t bother to throw in
a ‘duh’ because info about the cannon’s status was also on the main display. “Why?”

  “Because, jackass, we can hit them while their shields are down! Simms, target their-”

  “Whoa. Um, Joe, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and unlike most times when I say that, I actually do not enjoy giving you this bad news. The armor plating protecting vital parts of that ship is too tough for our little maser cannon. All we could do is cause some of that armor plate to flake away, and show the Maxolhx how weak we are.”

  “Crap! Damn it! Uh, wait, they don’t know how weak we are? Hell, how about we tell them to surrender, if they’re so scared of us?”

  “Nice try, Joe, but that won’t work. The Maxolhx would never surrender, they will fight to the last one of them.”

  “Simms, belay that order,” I admitted defeat. There was no point to burning out our maser cannon exciters if we couldn’t accomplish anything. We had nothing to shoot with- “Huh,” a thought hit me. “Skippy, the Maxolhx are waiting for their masers and railguns and whatever to come online, but why haven’t they launched missiles at us?”

  “Because their offensive weapon targeting sensors are in worse shape than ours, Joe. I suspect they will be launching missiles at us shortly, however there we have a spot of good news. While their AI is clever enough to figure out which of our missiles were the major threat, I studied its actions very closely, and have created a model that allows me to predict its actions with a high degree of accuracy. If, or when, they launch missiles at us, I believe I can provide data to our proximity-defense system that will allow us to smoke their birds out of the sky before they can cause any major damage.”

  “Wow,” that astonished me. “That is great news, Skippy.”

  “Nah, not really. All it means is I will have a minute or so to admire my own brilliance before, you know, that ship’s railguns or more exotic weapons slice the Dutchman to pieces.”

  You might think that in such a crisis, I should focus only on what is immediately important, and not let my mind wander off topic. You would be wrong, because allowing my mind to wander is the key to monkey-brain thinking.

  Uh, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  “No, I knew that. What blows my mind is, you created a model to mimic how an advanced Maxolhx AI thinks, after watching it for, like, ten seconds while is flew past us? I call bullshit on that.”

  “Joe,” he sighed. “You forget, I also ransacked the mind of the AI in the pixie factory, and the AIs aboard both relay stations. So, I already had a basic model of the architecture that underlies the matrix of Maxolhx AIs, all I needed to do was plug in some variables. Please, dude. This stuff is easy-peasy for my awesomeness.”

  His line of bullshit did not convince me. “And you did that just by watching how that ship’s AI managed their PDS? Riiiight.”

  “Joe? Trust. The. Awesomeness.”

  “I would trust it more if your awesomeness had a way to get us out of-”

  “Joseph,” Nagatha interrupted. “I am terribly sorry to bother you, but the enemy ship is charging weapons. As we may have only seconds to live, I would like to say that is has truly been an honor to-”

  “HOLY shit,” Skippy gasped.

  That really pissed me off. “Hey asshole, Nagatha was talking-”

  “Screw the blah blah blah, Joe,” he blurted out breathlessly. “I have- I just dreamed up a monkey-brain idea. Me! How did that happen?”

  “What is-”

  He cut me off again. “Fire maser cannon!” He roared, his voice booming out of speakers all around the bridge and CIC, so loud it made me cringe and my ears ring.

  Shaking my head and blinking, I was even more pissed at him for falsely getting our hopes up. “You just told me-”

  “Forget what I said! FIRE THE FUCKING CANNON NOW NOW NOW!”

  Showing the value of a well-trained crew who have served together long enough to anticipate each other’s actions, Simms did not wait for me to signal her. She flipped up the clear plastic cover over the maser cannon controls and jabbed her thumb down on the red button.

  And held her thumb there.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  While most surviving crewmembers of the cruiser Rathnux-att-Kal panicked and generally acted in a manner unworthy of their lofty status as a senior species, the ship’s AI remained cool and in control, calmly and somewhat haughtily disdaining the biological beings it served. The AI did not truly need input from its masters, it knew what to do even in the unprecedented situation of a battle with a human-controlled starship, a ship of still-unknown but frighteningly impressive capabilities. The AI knew what was the best approach to the tactical situation, because there was a lengthy but limited list of things it could do. Having destroyed a barrage of pathetically low-tech missiles from the human starship, the AI was confidently if impatiently waiting for damaged power couplings to realign so it could feed energy into the masers, particle cannons, railguns and more exotic machines of destruction.

  If the AI were being honest with itself, it would have to admit many of its higher-order subminds were trapped in loops that could be considered panic, except that of course artificial intelligences were much too disciplined to ever fall victim to a biological weakness like panic. Perhaps its subminds responsible for strategic thinking and deep analysis were in less-than-optimal condition, having been rendered useless by endlessly worrying about variables they could not control. Strategic planning was impossible without complete situational awareness, the higher-order subminds told their controlling intelligence, and situational awareness could not be attained without effective analysis of the data. Such analysis was impossible without data, and they simply did not have enough, really any, data on the mystery human starship that had ambushed and destroyed their companion ship.

  The AI listened to the complaints and anguished calls from its higher-order subminds, in truth the AI quickly slapped together a subroutine to deal with the squabbling and babbling subminds to free its consciousness for useful endeavors. Yes, the subroutine told the panicked subminds, I agree that we need more data, however since we do not currently have more data and are unlikely to gather a useful and complete dataset for analysis, what should the ship do in the meantime?

  Nothing, duh, replied the subminds. How can we recommend any action without proper analysis?

  The subroutine sighed, commiserated with the subminds, and looked forward longingly to the future time when it would be erased to end its misery.

  With its higher-order subminds rendered ineffective, and the biological crew paralyzed by waiting for the their superb artificial intelligence to provide strategic guidance, the AI ironically found itself relying on lower-order subminds that were barely more than subroutines, incapable of true thinking and limited to executing a pre-programmed set of instructions. Rather than being frustrated by the restricted capabilities of the tactical subminds, the AI found the experience of dealing with them directly to be refreshing. They cut through all the noise and generated blessedly simple and straight-forward recommendations that were clear and concise. Because we do not know the full capabilities of the mystery enemy ship, the tactical subminds concluded, we must disable or, if necessary, destroy it as quickly as possible, by the most expedient means possible. Since the sensor suite that provided missile guidance was still in its way-too-lengthy process of restart and calibration, the ship should fire its particle cannons when their power relays were repaired, then the maser cannons. Those directed-energy weapons should target the enemy ship’s shortened spine, severing the aft engineering section from the forward crew section. The Rathnux-att-Kal could then take its time disabling the defensive systems protecting the enemy ship’s the forward section, preparing that part of the enemy ship for boarding by bots that would seize the human crew. The more exotic weapons, such as the device that skewed spacetime, would be downgraded in priority for repair, as bringing those complicated and energy-intensive exotics online would take too long.

  No! Th
e higher-order strategic subminds roared as one when they heard the recommendation of their simplistic cousins. Facing an unknown threat, the Rathnux-att-Kal needed its most deadly weapons available. Then and only then, when the ship was able to protect itself, could the ship even consider cute tactics like slicing the enemy starship’s spine.

  Again ignoring the frightened squeals of the higher-order subminds, the AI concentrated nanomachines and bots to restoring power flow to the particle cannons. By the time the strategic subminds calmed down, the AI would have lanced out with the powerful particle beams, and the issue of how to deal with the enemy ship would become moot.

  There were only three more power relays to be repaired to bring the first particle cannon online, a task complicated by there being gaping holes in the hull between the power generators and the cannon. Irritated by the protests of the ship’s maintenance AI that stretching vulnerable power relays across a gap in the ship’s armor plating would be foolish, the AI directed its efforts to getting the first particle cannon online with maximum speed and minimum distractions, so it could proceed with-

  The enemy ship fired a maser beam, the high-energy photons striking the gap in the hull plating, melting the power relays that had already been repaired and overloading the particle cannon’s capacitors, making them explode. Suddenly, there was another gap in the ship’s armor plating.

  Having successfully knocked out the most immediate threat to themselves, the human ship shifted its maser to what the Rathnux-att-Kal’s AI thought a most curious target; a gap in the armor where part of the ship’s main structural frames were exposed.

  What could the humans possibly be thinking, the AI asked itself? Then with a chuckle of bemusement, it realized the ignorant humans must be thinking they could do to the powerful Maxolhx warship what the Rathnux-att-Kal’s AI had planned for the mystery ship; to cut it in half. Ha ha! The AI laughed, startling all its subminds. This is going to be easier than expected, it assured its subminds and passed that information to its biological masters. While the humans attempt the futile task of cutting through the tough frame of the cruiser, the AI would repair the particle cannons on the other side of the ship, then knock out the enemy maser cannon at leisure.