Star Destroyers

by Tony Daniel

  Calculations showed that given their own fuel margin and established trajectories, any further maneuver would slow their escape. The obvious fast curves would be attacked preemptively. If he waited for incoming, his available volume and options would shrink a lot.

  “As soon as they detect us, we have to maneuver again. Realistically, that will be our last maneuver.”

  Hirsch demanded, “Elaborate, please.”

  Metzger ran through his reasoning and figures. “An immediate maneuver gives us the broadest envelope and them the widest search volume. If we wait, we have fewer options, and they will be slightly but relevantly closer.”

  “Understood. Maneuver as you see fit. After that, what is your call?”

  “If they detect us after that, we’re on a very tight fuel margin. We need enough to get us into phase, and to somewhere we can precipitate and expect help.” If they dropped into normal space light-years from anywhere, it would take years for any message to get out.

  “Please keep me advised on that margin,” Captain said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  If they couldn’t do it, the captain was going to try to take at least one pursuer with them.

  Really, there weren’t any other options.

  Metzger was the only one aboard who could prevent that.

  “Sir, I think I can drop a loiter mine onto Bogey Two. The problem is, the residue of the detonation, microseconds as it is, will be enough for them to track this trajectory. Even with onboard maneuvering.”

  “Save it until you believe we’re exposed.”

  “Understood. That increases the probability of a miss, however.”

  Hirsch acknowledged, “Yes.”

  “Confirmed.”

  Engineer Hazey reported, “Astro, we’re losing efficiency. Adjustments require shutdown, so you need to assume loss of delta V. I’ve got a chart for you.”

  Metzger looked at the chart and clenched his jaw. He added the figures and reassigned everything. The envelopes changed and narrowed.

  Werner said, “Incoming fire.”

  Metzger scanned the tank. There it was . . . “From where?”

  Werner said, “Unknown. Bogey Four assigned, not identified.”

  “Stealth boat,” he said. “There’s no reason they don’t have them the way we do.”

  That meant another set of sensors they had to evade.

  “So the good news is, I can not bother evading behind their detonation fuzz. We can boost freely, then go silent after our screen.”

  Captain said, “I’m going to work with you on this. We need as much boost as we can get without shorting ourselves on the phase entry, but we also need to appear to not be concerned about energy consumption. That keeps their search envelopes larger.”

  “I agree and thank you, sir.”

  Captain asked, “The next question is why they revealed that boat by firing.”

  Good question.

  “I expect it’s a loiter missile. They want us to think the stealth is there and waste resources. But it doesn’t matter where it is. Just that it can ID us.”

  Werner said, “That may be, but I’m doing everything I can to find emanations or occultations that might show their maneuvering . . . and I think I have.”

  Bogey Four showed in the tank. It would have come from forward of the jump point, even forward of the UN base there.

  “So they have a secondary base we didn’t know about, and most of them don’t either.”

  Werner continued, “They also have really good missiles. It seems to have IDed us and locked.”

  Hirsch said, “And that’s why they revealed the asset.”

  Werner replied, “Has to be expensive.”

  Metzger asked, “Do I need to waste a warhead?”

  Werner wrinkled his brow. “I think you can stop it just with jacks. Add in flash and reflection chaff.”

  “Agreed, and done.”

  The charges were dropped in soft, deep vacgel that would make their signature even less visible than everything already was. All combatants were looking as much for dark holes in space where none should be as they were for emissions.

  Captain said, “I have a boost solution for you.”

  Metzger looked at it.

  “That only allows us two more evasion burns.”

  Hirsch said, “Yes. I’m trying to draw them into wasting power in pursuit, and minimize our exposure time. If they think we’re in more of a hurry, I’m hoping they get careless.”

  His eyes were beyond gritty, stung with sweat. He could barely visualize the equations. Everyone here had stayed on with him. The entire combat crew had to be wired. Third Chef Lalonde kept bringing food and beverages, Morgan brought stims. In between, some of them got combat naps. No one was going to rest at this end.

  “I have no reason to dispute it, sir. Just noting we’re limited on future evasion.”

  He brought thrust online and the frame hummed.

  Twelve seconds of light lag time later, Werner said, “They’re boosting in pursuit.”

  “Good. Now we see if it works.”

  The burns had been carefully selected to this point to align them with Jump Point Two. This was to encourage the UNPF to concentrate forces on each side of the point. The four pursuers were hoping to chase them into a blockade.

  It was likely, though, that someone had assumed the possibility of phase drive, since several Freehold warships had it, which freed them from the fixed points.

  Now was when they’d find out. If the enemy all planned to converge near the point, it would increase the safety envelope when Malahayati deviated farther from that course.

  Captain Ashton saw the emission blip. “We have them. Thank Gemdi for the assist. Cut to minimum shipboard expenditures and chase those bastards down.”

  Rao asked, “Why would they head for the jump point?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe they were towed in-system. Or damaged.”

  “Would they still have jump drive after a refit to phase drive?”

  He shrugged again. “We don’t know. I think that’s more likely than them not being converted.”

  Engineer Basco asked, “Could they have ripped the phase drive out to reuse it, and plan to either lose this ship or slam the jump?”

  That was a good speculation.

  “Also possible. Mirabelle is going to cover the route to the point and prevent transition.”

  Alxi said, “Well they’re visible now, and we’re getting a lot more data. They can’t win.”

  “No,” Ashton agreed. “But they can’t surrender, either. They’re probably convinced we’d torture them to death or something, and they have to know we can’t trust their intentions and will shoot to kill. So they may try to take someone with them. Between our ships, we have enough missiles. Fire when you have a solution.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Sir? They’re firing.”

  Metzger was brought into a discussion between the captain and the engineer.

  “Commander Hazey, is there any way at all to recover some of our drive power?”

  Hazey said, “The only way to improve efficiency is to send an engineer aft to the reactor, under power, to make adjustments. They will die. And I guess if you’re going to give that order, I’ll do it, because I can’t morally order anyone else to.”

  Metzger said, “I understand. We will try hard to avoid that.” No, he could not request the captain give that order, not if there was any other choice at all.

  “Thank you.”

  He said, “Then I guess it’s time to make our last screen and burn, drop a loiter mine through the fuzz, jack off with everything we have left, and hope we power enough to clear system.”

  Hirsch said, “I see your envelopes. I have nothing productive to add. It’s your mission, Astrogator.”

  “Understood, sir. We will initiate this maneuver on my mark. Countdown on screen.”

  Klaxons alerted the crew. Reactor power. Acceleration and boost. Danger-close detonat
ion. Stand by.

  The weapons rolled out, improving the ship’s mass ratio fractionally. The screening warhead detonated, and boost cut in.

  Engineer Hazey was going to be furious. Metzger had entered a command code to bypass the locks Hazey had set in place. The program pushed the reactor to 141 percent of max, well over emergency max of 115 percent, and his warning of 125 percent. It was all or nothing.

  That boost tapered down to 125 percent, then 120 percent, then stopped. They were still inside the debris sheath from their own detonation. Metzger itched. It was psychosomatic, but he was inside a fusion explosion, or at least the edges of it.

  “They’ll track us out of that, eventually,” he said. “Hopefully, they first think we scuttled, then draw some wrong assumptions.”

  Engineer Hazey came into the net.

  “I want command to understand I am very, very unhappy with my recommendations being ignored. It should be noted at this point, if another vector change is needed, I will have to sacrifice a member of this crew to effect reactor repairs. I hope it was worth it.”

  Hirsch intercepted the call.

  “I authorized it as an emergency measure, and felt it best not to alarm anyone with the status, in case of failure.”

  Damn, he was a good commander. All he’d said was for Metzger to proceed and Metzger hadn’t said how far he was pushing it.

  Hazey said, “Understood, and I comprehend the circumstances. Now please log my objection for the record, because this poor beast is going to need an overhaul if we survive.”

  But Bogey One was now out of reach, and Bogey Two was losing vector. Unless they had boost they hadn’t exploited, they were probably out of it. Bogey Three could still potentially intercept, though they’d strain any known limit and need recovery afterward.

  Bogey Four was still unknown, but a stealth boat likely didn’t have the fuel ratio for any kind of chase like this.

  Werner said, “Our loiter missile just went live. Intel on Bogey Four and Bogey Three. Not a lot, but it improves the estimates. Bogey Two is now evading.”

  And with that, Bogey Two dropped completely out of the race. No matter what they boosted, nothing known would let them pull enough G to intercept.

  “Well done, Metzger,” Captain said.

  “Thank you, sir, but we still have Number Three.”

  Ashton clenched his jaw against very negative feelings. Anger, frustration, fear, all boiling over.

  They’d evaded the contact envelope of the enemy missile, and in doing so, lost any hope of catching that ship. Quito had maneuvered around it, being that much closer, but between fuel margin and the vector changes, she was unlikely to catch them, either.

  He muttered, “Damn whoever is flying that bucket. He’s in league with gods, or devils.”

  He saw the updated data in the display and said, “It’s bad, but Mirabelle has them. Exact current trajectory plotted. She’ll chase them down and slag them.”

  Helm Operator Rao asked, “Sir? How deep have you ever gone? Because we’re going a lot deeper before this is over.”

  He looked at the plot.

  No ship he knew of had been this far out. They were well beyond the heliopause.

  “It’s been an impressive chase.”

  Rao said, “Are we going to offer them terms?”

  “Those terms would be war crimes tribunals. They might win on a technicality. I doubt they want to risk it. They’re going to run until we kill them. If they run low on power, they’ll probably scuttle. I expect that ship is stripped to nothing.”

  Rao gritted his teeth. “Makes sense. We can’t let them get away or they’ll do this again.”

  “Exactly that. We’ll keep scanning. Every bit of intel we get helps stop them now.”

  Bogey Three was moving farther into the green.

  Metzger said, “We have a single warhead, sir. And a minimal amount of energy margin. We’re already likely to need a tow and refuel on arrival home.”

  Captain said, “I see the figures.” The two of them were the only ones with the coordinates of their base.

  Hirsch continued, “Strip out any gram of mass we can spare. Dump oxy, water, anything. We’ll use that missile as we leave.”

  The operations officer, Commander Cortes, said, “Yes, sir, though we already stripped almost everything.”

  Across the deck, Metzger could see the captain’s gaze. “Then strip more. Uniforms. Underwear. Crew can manage in a single coverall. If we have to, we’ll dump that. Shlippers only. Unclamp any backup equipment and have that standing by. We might need that more, but if it’ll save us, it goes. If it can serve as reactor mass, get it in there. If not, queue it to jettison.”

  “Sir.”

  The order was given, and below, crew feverishly abandoned personal clothing and items, ripped out spare equipment, dumped containers. Reaction mass crept up slightly from a handful of material that was usable as fuel without reconfiguring the process. The rest showed on a graph, which corresponded to increase in delta V and thrust.

  I’ve spent the last two day cycles staring at a screen full of math and coded graphs, Metzger thought. Most people would have no idea what they were looking at. To him, it was their life or death.

  A short time later, Werner said, “Incoming. Can’t ID the type, but it’s got hellacious delta V.”

  Captain asked, “Can you call impact time?”

  “Estimate only. The thrust is shifting continuously and apparently randomly within a range, more as it closes. We can’t run.”

  “Can we evade?”

  “If we do so just before detonation, we might spoof it.”

  Hirsch said, “Then configure that last VDAM and whatever chaff and decoys we have. Metzger, you and Werner make the call. Blow, jettison and boost.”

  “Yes, sir. Werner, what’s our call?”

  Werner said, “We’ll have milliseconds in the danger-close envelope, and we need to call that conservatively.”

  “Can we evade now?”

  “I expect it has enough range to track and follow. It’s very active. We’re zeroed . . . and now there’s two more launches.”

  This was it. Either they reached that safe plateau in space, risked entry this close to the primary, or tried to evade high-yield warheads at fractional c.

  Forcing steely calm into his response, he asked, “Can you give me a range on its expected detonation?”

  Werner said, “It’s on your feed. Updating as we go.”

  The missile showed as a dot with a glowing marker over it, fading from yellow to purple.

  “Well, I think we can take a full second on the window. How fast can we get out of the envelope, allowing for response time?”

  Lieutenant Hadfield said, “I think point five is pushing it. You didn’t want to max boost again, did you?”

  “Do we need to?”

  Hirsch said, “Given your figures, one two five percent will suffice. One three five is better.”

  “One three zero. Split it.” And hope we don’t blow up our reactor, or just render it incapable of powering the drive.

  Werner said, “Well, we’re about to find out. It’s on you.”

  “Alert, jettison and boost.”

  Metzger clenched up. G kicked, the ship’s frame creaked, something thrummed as a too-close detonation caught them from the aft port lower. The dot in the display flashed bright, and figures scrolled. It was forty percent more than assumed, far beyond what they’d anticipated, and inverse-square law was their friend as they fled.

  Aboard Laconia, Alxi shouted, “Detonation. I think Mirabelle got them!”

  He then added, “Damn. Gemdi reports boost.”

  Ashton asked, “They got out of that?” The enemy crew were demons.

  “Sir, we believe they were damaged, possibly severely. That missile got close enough they were in the plasma sheath.”

  “But not a hit.”

  Alxi said, “No, sir. That class of missile has been having frequent problems. A fac
tory defect.”

  “So the contractors screwed us over again. The enemy is still maneuvering.”

  Alxi said, “Yes.”

  “So they got away.”

  Through clenched teeth, the recon officer said, “I admire and hate them at the same time.”

  Ashton asked, “What’s the word on the rest of the salvo?”

  Alxi looked at his display and carefully said, “Captain . . . nothing can reach them on their new track. All five will burn out and abort detonate.”

  “At least we haven’t made it less safe with debris.”

  Oh, he was furious. They’d fired eight missiles and possibly caused some damage. Four ships were scattered across the Kuiper Belt and would need support craft to recover, taking weeks in which they were known to be unable to protect assets. His ship was damaged. Roeder had been lost with all hands, three ships in repair, nine boats in dock, over thirteen thousand casualties.

  And the enemy was now at an insane .06 c, too far out for anyone to reach with anything. By the time any updated sensor info reached the in-system defenses, even those powerful beams would be too late. The request was sent anyway.

  Then, as they watched, the ship contorted inside a phase field and disappeared.

  “Command is demanding a report.”

  Ashton felt a ripple of cold adrenaline.

  “I’ll take that in my cabin.”

  Command would probably understand. The media and the public would not. Captain Virgil Ashton and his peers were going to be crucified in the press.

  Captain Hirsch said, “You’re keyed in on damage report.”

  The report tumbled in and Metzger caught the important parts.

  “Eight dead . . .”

  “Fifteen critical injuries . . .”

  “Reactor feed damage, containment shaping defect, max power down to eighty-nine percent . . .”

  “Frame damage, hull damage, contained . . .”

  “Life support holding . . .”

  Completely out of context, he asked, “Captain, what’s the fastest you ever traveled?”

  “I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”