Battleship Indomitable

by B. V. Larson

  “It is proper,” Straker said, not bothering to correct or explain the nuances of human biology—or his biotech. “Report to Commander Paloco for all routine matters, but as the senior Ruxin warrior here, feel free to come directly to me if you must.”

  “I understand.” Kraxor saluted again.

  Straker returned it. “Dismissed.”

  As he walked away, he mused that a commander’s job multiplied in complexity the more subordinates he had, especially the varied group in this task force. And he couldn’t simply promote Breakers to officer positions; there weren’t enough soldiers accustomed to being in charge of more than a squad. He had to make this crazy bunch work together somehow.

  Once they reached Baikonur, he suspected things would shake themselves out in the stress of operations and combat. It was the intervening days of sidespace travel, when the ship became the entirety of the world, which could prove troublesome.

  So he looked for Loco. He found him talking to Heiser in the wardroom.

  “Hey, boss,” said Loco as Straker entered.

  Heiser nodded from his seat. “Sir.”

  “Have you met our Sachsen ground contingent?” Straker asked as he grabbed some caff and sat at their table.

  “Major Wagner?” Heiser allowed a slight sneer to break through. “He chewed me out for not speaking his language. I guess my name is German or something, from way back.”

  “Other than that, what do you make of them?”

  Heiser shrugged. “I watched them training before we left. They know how to use their suits. Their weapons are overpowered and awkward. I think they measure themselves by how big a gun they have, but they’re crack shots. If you keep that in mind, you should be able to employ them effectively. But sir…”

  “Go on. Spit it out.”

  “If you insist.” Heiser shook his head. “Pissing on the people below you for no reason is the mark of a bad officer. He doesn’t respect noncoms, even senior ones. He probably won’t take orders from anyone but you two, and maybe Commander Engels, and he’s likely to question anything I relay to him in your name.”

  “We’ll be sure to synch comlinks so my orders reach him clearly,” Straker said, stroking his chin. “Thanks, Spear. Have you dealt with the Ruxin warriors?”

  “No, sir. Stayed away, figured that’s your job until you tell me different.”

  “I actually found their commander, Major Kraxor, to be more reasonable than Wagner. I do recommend you approach him with a weapon in your hand, so he sees you as a fellow warrior male.”

  “Got it, sir.”

  “Loco?”

  Loco nodded. “What the Spear said. I think as long as we use Wagner properly, he’ll be valuable. I did talk with Kraxor for a while, helping him with his Earthan. I actually like the guy. I think he’s smarter than he lets on.”

  “Like you?”

  “Gee, boss…”

  “Don’t get a big head.” Straker sat back and sipped his caff. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, and it’s rewarding the squeaky wheel, but I want you to find Wagner and his men some quarters away from the Ruxins, even if you have to displace crew to do it. Something you can plausibly say is better—more privacy at least. Maybe just stick them in a cargo bay?”

  “You’re gonna reward his assholishness?”

  “Yeah, it’s a compromise, but I’m keeping the peace. Schedule some combined assault exercises, though—Breakers, Sachsens, Ruxins. They don’t get a pass on working together, just living together—for now. Maybe we can develop some respect among them. Nothing like shared danger to get rid of the stupids. And Loco…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Work them hard. Work the living shit out of them. You too, Spear. I want them too tired to start trouble, and I want them hating you guys and loving me, because I’m the one that’ll show up and tell them when the duty day is done, and who’ll tell them they can open those barrels full of tasty Sachsen beer.”

  Heiser and Loco exchanged evil grins.

  Chapter 17

  Liberation Battlecruiser Wolverine, approaching Baikonur System in sidespace

  Straker’s plan worked, Captain Engels mused as she headed for Wolverine’s bridge. Wagner and his prickly Sachsens had been moved to a corner of a cargo bay where they could feel special and polish their armor out of sight of nasty rubbery Ruxins. Combined exercises had gained each contingent grudging respect for the others’ skills. The peace had been kept, for now.

  She’d been particularly impressed with the Ruxin warrior males. Without the augmented strength of battlesuits, they were still able to carry either one oversized or two standard infantry weapons. Apparently their large brains and multiple eyes also allowed them to accurately aim at two targets at once, making them into the equivalent of two soldiers.

  But the ground-pounders and their training were more of a diversion than a duty for her. She’d spent the majority of her time drilling her mixed crew of Ruxin neuters and Sachsen citizen-sailors, with only a handful of loyal Breakers to leaven the mix and hold it together.

  The Ruxin neuters Vuxana had supplied were compliant and competent, but lacked experience and initiative. They reminded her of a bunch of earnest teenage Academy cadets.

  The Sachsens were mostly civilians before joining the Galactic Liberation, many of them highly seasoned ship jocks, wrench-turners and rock monkeys—which made them the mirror images of the Ruxins: too much experience and initiative, inclined to follow orders only when they felt like it. There’d been frequent throwdowns and fistfights, and she’d kept Lieutenant Ritter and Chief Gurung busy mediating disputes and knocking heads. The diminutive Gurkha had turned out to be a veteran at hand-to-hand, his rock-hard muscles matched by his fixed smile as he made short work of anyone who dared take a swing at him.

  But the eight days of drill and training had started to pay off. No crew could jell completely in such a short time, but the worst seemed behind her now, and she felt the battlecruiser Wolverine would now perform creditably in a fight.

  And what a ship she was! The largest Engels had ever served aboard, much less commanded. She still felt a thrill as she took her place in the captain’s chair, surrounded on all sides by her bridge officers and specialists. She missed the hands-on controls of Liberator’s helm, but she was the skipper now, not the pilot.

  “All stations report,” she said crisply.

  “Helm aye.”

  “Sensors aye.”

  “Beams aye.” Wolverine’s direct fire weapons were all beams, which simplified things, though that meant she lacked railguns, useful for certain purposes.

  “Missiles, all ready except number three missile tube.” Despite the best efforts of Ruxins and Sachsens, that launcher kept failing.

  “It’s empty?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Leave it. Shut the outer doors and take it offline.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  “Continue report.”

  “Comms aye.”

  “Engineering aye.”

  “Security aye.”

  “Damage control aye,” said Chief Gurung.

  “The grunts are asleep on their bunks, dreaming of expensive whiskey and cheap whores,” said Loco. “Or is that vice versa?”

  Engels shot him a withering look. “Thank you for that, Commander Paloco.”

  She turned to Straker, who was standing behind her, staring at the empty main holoscreen as if it held the secrets of the universe. “We’re ready. Transition to normal space in ten minutes, as you can see.” She gestured at the chrono ticking down toward zero.

  “Thank you, Captain Engels. Carry on.”

  The main bridge pressure door swung open suddenly to reveal Major Wagner. “I insist on being present at transition,” he snapped.

  Engels exchanged amused glances with Straker. “By all means, Major. Permission to enter granted. Just stay out of the way.”

  Wagner let out a huff, and then moved to stand next to Straker. His lip curl
ed when the pressure door opened again to reveal Major Kraxor.

  “Come on in, Major Kraxor,” said Loco with a sweeping gesture. “The gang’s all here.”

  “Indeed.” The huge Ruxin flowed in to stand alongside Straker, on the other side from Wagner.

  Engels turned her back on the tableau with an internal cringe and reminded herself how glad she was Straker and Loco were dealing with the egotistical ground-pounders. She much preferred the clean complexity of naval operations, though warships had their personalities as well.

  The minutes turned to seconds, until the chrono nulled. “Transition,” said the helmsman. “Clear ahead.”

  “Steady as she goes,” said Engels. It was critical that she not maneuver until the rest of the fleet transited, in order to minimize the chance of collision. Ships should arrive spaced out over time and distance, but sometimes even the best plan went awry.

  This far out in flatspace from Baikonur’s primary, though, there should be nothing but other ships to hit. She’d chosen a third-order suboptimal exit point, far from the best spots, the ones most likely to be mined or guarded. For even more safety, and for good reconnaissance, they’d arrived far above the system’s plane of the ecliptic, looking “down” on the orbits of its planets and asteroids, and as close in to its binary center as possible.

  “Collating data now,” said the officer at Sensors. “It’s coming through.”

  The big main holoscreen, and the holo-table in the center of the bridge, simultaneously began to populate, first showing one large white star circled by a partner too small and dim to be called a sun.

  “That’s the neutron star?” asked Straker.

  “Correct, sir. Presumably it was captured by the white giant, rather than developing alongside it, as the two stars’ stellar age is quite different,” said the Ruxin Sensors officer, Tixban. “It is also skimming off mass from the primary, and is therefore gaining angular momentum such that—”

  “Thanks, Tixban. We need intelligence about enemy forces and dispositions before we start a scientific survey,” Engels said.

  “Of course, ma’am. But the data will become available roughly in order of mass and emissions luminosity of the objects detected—stars, planets, and so on down.”

  “Okay, we wait.” Engels put her chin on her fist, her elbow on the arm of the captain’s chair.

  The next objects to appear and be identified were planets—outer gas giants, inner rocky worlds, both kinds farther out than in typically life-bearing star systems—for this was clearly not one of those. Neither white giants nor neutron stars were conducive to Earthlike planets.

  When the moons of the gas giants appeared, one brightened as the algorithm controlling the sensors computer zeroed in. Strong radio signals emanated from it, most encrypted.

  “Looks like a base. Probably the main one,” said Straker. “Any other major signal sources?”

  “We must let the computer do its work,” said Tixban.

  Straker growled in frustration.

  “Helm, what about our other ships?” Engels said, more to distract Straker than anything.

  “Badger, Sable, and Ermine have arrived, with wide separation. They’re maneuvering to join us. The rest should transit in order of size, as planned.”

  More icons appeared, and tabular data began to fill the smaller visiplates of the bridge officers. “I have located a habitat,” said Tixban.

  That icon blinked among a dense asteroid belt within the orbit of the innermost rocky planet—which was nevertheless farther out than most Earthlike worlds were from their stars. The size and heat of the white giant and the intermittent gravitic effects of the neutron star must have ripped apart one or more of the nearer planets, creating this debris field.

  “How soon until they see us?” asked Straker.

  “Two hours, give or take, for that small habitat,” said Engels, instinctively doing the math in her head. “They’ll get our IFF signatures about the same time, telling them how we’re all good little Mutuality buddies. Then it’ll take a slightly shorter time for us to see how they react, or receive any messages. At normal acceleration we could reach the habitat in about twenty hours, the big base in about forty.”

  Straker stepped forward to stare closely at the holo-table, which was still populating with moons, asteroids and manmade objects. “I don’t see anything else in this system except a few robotic asteroid mines and a refueling station. Let’s start heading for that habitat,” he said.

  Engels nodded. “Helm, set course for the hab, half acceleration. Pass to the fleet to form on us as we go, no hard maneuvering. We’re friendlies, remember? Just one big happy Mutuality.”

  “Can we refine the data on that hab? Deploy a recon drone or something?” asked Straker.

  Engels cocked her head. “We could, but why would a friendly task force send a recon drone ahead of them?”

  “You’re right.” Straker paced slowly around the holo-table. “I really need to take a look at that… habitat.”

  “You’re talking like there’s something unusual about it,” said Engels.

  “There is,” announced Tixban. “It is composed of processed alloys rather than asteroidal material, and its power emanations are extremely high for a habitat. Additionally, it’s not rotating. These factors are more congruent with a mobile fortress than a habitat.”

  “Mobile fortress.” Straker smiled at Engels through the hologram. “Or maybe a ship?”

  “If it is a ship, it is only for in-system use, as it is far too massive to transit into sidespace,” said Tixban.

  “About sixteen times as massive?” Engels said, nodding at Straker.

  “Yes…almost precisely.” Tixban squirmed, confused. “How did you know?”

  Straker nodded back at Engels, and then glanced at Tixban. “You haven’t been fully briefed. Now that we’re here, pass the word to all ships to access the Indomitable file. Majors,” he turned to Kraxor and Wagner, “your companies will prepare to seize our new battleship. You’ll be the tip of the spear. The rest of our various ground elements will follow up, and then our designated prize crew.”

  Wagner snapped a salute. “My Sachsens shall lead!”

  “Of course.” Straker suppressed a roll of his eyes and checked his chrono. “Assault brief will begin two hours from our arrival. Until then, we’ll gather data, try to see what we’re dealing with here. Everything depends on Indomitable remaining unaware of our true intentions. If they become suspicious or, Creator help us, go to battle stations and start shooting…”

  “It will spell disaster,” said Major Wagner. “Commodore, you must do all in your power to get us aboard. If you do, we—and our new allies, of course—will take the ship for you.”

  Straker pointed at Engels. “I’m just overseeing the op, Major. Commander Engels is the one that’s going to sneak us in close enough to do it.”

  After hesitating, Wagner turned toward Engels, clicked his heels together and gave a slight bow. “My lady.”

  Despite herself, Engels felt the corners of her mouth rise. If Sir Wagner had to turn her into an aristocrat in order to acknowledge her authority, so be it.

  ***

  “It only has a skeleton crew?” said Derek eight hours later as he pulled on his pants. He’d been catching some shuteye in the flag officer’s stateroom while waiting for Captain Zholin, dressed as a Mutuality admiral, to exchange messages with the “station.”

  Carla nodded. “She, Derek. Confirmed as Indomitable. Yes, it looks like she has only a skeleton crew. Zholin’s been careful in asking questions so as not to seem uninformed, but he’s learned the ship isn’t fully operational. She’s been turned into a test bed for weapons. Most of the personnel aboard are civilians—technicians, engineers, scientists. There isn’t even a military captain.”

  Derek stared past her, thinking as he dressed. “So, good news and bad news. Good, in that seizing her should be easy. Bad, in that she’s not ready to fight.”

  “Wo
rse than that,” said Carla. “If this expensive fleet asset has been sitting out here for years while a war’s raging, there must be some serious flaw. Something that makes her nearly useless. Derek…” She stepped closer to button up his tunic, “this may all be a wild goose chase.”

  He let her finish, and then kissed her gently. “If so, it’s been our Pascal’s Wager. We gambled for a big win and lost a few days. We’ll go on to Plan B, start liberating vulnerable systems with the fleet we have while playing cat and mouse with the Mutuality heavies they’ll send after us. But I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet. Even if there are problems with Indomitable, we’re here now. We might as well try to hijack her. If we can, she ought to give the Mutuality fits just worrying about what we’ll do.”

  “I don’t disagree. It’s just that…”

  “Go on.”

  Carla stroked his short hair. “Right now it seems like you’re on a gambler’s high. The more you win, the more you crave winning, but you can’t win all the time.”

  “I can’t? Why not? This isn’t a casino, where the odds always catch up to you. This is real life. Plenty of commanders throughout history never lost a major battle.”

  “Plenty of them lost one final battle after a long winning streak, too.” She stepped away. “Or even if they win, everybody dies along the way.”

  Derek strapped on his pistol belt. “You’re not backing out now, are you? Before we even roll the dice?”

  “Of course not. I’m your woman, Derek. I’m with you no matter what. But I’m also your second-in-command, which means it’s my job to push back…in private, at least.”

  “I know. Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. Have Lockstep dock with us, will you?”

  Carla’s brows narrowed. “Sure. Why?”

  “I want to talk with the Lazarus clone. Gibson has him aboard.”

  “You brought him here?”

  “He’s of no use to me sitting on Freiheit. I need to pick his brain for details about the Mutuality, things that a mere ship captain like Zholin wouldn’t know. Like Indomitable.”