by B. V. Larson
“We got that, Commodore,” Straker said. “Now stow your attitude and act like a professional, or I’ll find someone who can.”
Engels glared at Straker for a moment, and then nodded.
Straker noticed Loco fighting a grin, and pointed a finger at him until it faded. “Now let’s go over the plan one more time, and then we’ll get a good night’s rest before transit in. We all need it.”
Chapter 40
Battleship Indomitable, Unison System.
Arrival at the heavily fortified Unison system was anticlimactic. Commodore Engels had chosen a random location well away from any optimum exit points in order to minimize the chance of ambush. Space, especially flatspace beyond the stellar bubble, was unimaginably enormous, only comprehensible because of graphic simulations such as the bridge hologram.
The rest of the fleet had secured the area for Indomitable’s parts to assemble without interference. Absent Indy’s AI control, the process took nearly a day of careful joining of sections and testing of thousands of connections. It was an elegant, but extremely complex solution to the sidespace mass limit.
That day—and another day for the Liberation fleet to cruise into combat range—gave the enemy plenty of time to complete last-minute preparations. Engels had often wondered what warfare would be like if FTL travel weren’t limited to flatspace. Had ships been able to pop into locations near planets and begin attacking immediately, defense would be immeasurably harder. Likely all warfare would have to be turned over to automated cybernetics with authority to fire in fractions of a second.
Now, though, both sides were as ready as they would ever be. As with two ring fighters at optimum fitness, there would be no strategic surprises, only tactical ones—if she could generate them.
Of course, the enemy would try to spring things on her as well.
All the way in she’d examined their deployments, shown in exquisite detail on the hologram. Twelve fortresses, each outmassing, if not outgunning, Indomitable, orbited the planet. Two small moons farther out also showed fields of thousands of missiles on their airless surfaces, ready to launch.
These could be dealt with, though. Without the ability to maneuver, the fortresses and fixed facilities could be bombarded into submission while Indomitable sedately evaded counterfire at extreme range.
No, her problem now was the monitors.
Monitors were huge local defense ships, too big for sidespace. Without the requirement to transit, they could be built as large as one liked, as long as they were never expected to leave the system. They filled the gap between mobile fleets and fortresses, but because they were far more expensive than orbital asteroid bases, and because they had to be built locally, they were common only to the most important star systems.
Unison boasted six monitors, each about half the size of Indomitable. Unlike fortresses, they could evade the battleship’s heavy bombardments, so they would have to be dealt with at medium or short range in a ship-to-ship slugfest.
But first…
“Commence bombardment,” Engels said.
Crewmen sprang into coordinated action. Engineers managed enormous power flows as weapons specialists supervised the loading of the first nine-hundred-ton railgun bullet.
The first projectile accelerated down the center of Indomitable at a rate that would crush even the hardiest of machinery inside—that being the reason railgun bullets were solid, without guidance or warhead. The massive slug leaped from her nose at a velocity best expressed as a percentage of light speed. Even so, the extreme range made the icon in the hologram seem to crawl over long minutes as it approached its target: the missile fields on one of Unison’s moon fortresses.
The target, of course, could not evade its fate.
In response, the enemy launched their missiles, as she expected. Various beams from the fortresses reached for the bullet and struck it, heating and melting and diverting it slightly. But a moon was a large target, and it orbited much farther out than the fortresses, making it hard to defend with mutual fire support.
Several of the thousands of missiles targeted the projectile itself, trying to nudge it farther from its path, but they failed, such was its gargantuan kinetic energy. The bullet struck the base, off to the side but close enough to shatter the deeply buried control center and create a crater over one hundred kilometers in diameter.
The launched missiles now floated in space, though, waiting for commands.
In the bridge hologram, the Liberation fleet floated off to the side, the right side as displayed. Like troops resting until the friendly artillery barrage softened up the enemy, they waited, watchful. Both Indomitable and her escorts cruised slowly inward, just enough to let the enemy know the range was closing.
Every two minutes, Engels ordered another projectile shot from the battleship. They struck the moons and eliminated several bases.
“How’s the gun looking? Engels asked.
“Multi-weapon system nominal in railgun mode,” said the senior weapons officer.
“Do you have enough data yet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Part of the reason for these initial shots was to gather information on how the enemy would defend—how much firepower they would commit to trying to divert or destroy a robust railgun bullet of that size. Would they use up missiles? How much fuel would they burn to power the dozens of heavy beams they could theoretically bring to bear? Were there weapons she didn’t know about, weapons they’d have to reveal under fire?
“Increase rate of fire to maximum and launch a coordinated salvo of six.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.” The capital weapons team, as they’d practiced, sent six railgun shots over the next six minutes. In this case, though, they fired the first a little slower, and subsequently increased the velocity of each round so the volley arrived on target at the same time. That way, the enemy had to deal with all of them at once.
And this salvo was aimed at one of the orbital fortresses.
The target’s crew no doubt realized their dilemma, and called for help. This forced the enemy’s hand, as Engels had known it must. A line of missiles swept toward the salvo, hammering at the projectiles with fusion blasts. At the same time, beams from all available projectors converged on one, then another of the bullets, melting them and driving them off-target with electromagnetic pressure.
At the same time, the fortress fired all of its thrusters. These made only a tiny difference in its orbital trajectory, but the combined effect of all these countermeasures meant only one slagged railgun projectile impacted the asteroid base.
That impact, however, shattered it utterly. Unlike field-reinforced crysteel and duralloy armor, fortresses built on asteroids had only rock to shield them. They had gargantuan weapons, but they couldn’t take the pounding of a warship of equal size.
Of course, other than Indomitable, there were no warships of equal size.
“Here it comes,” Engels said as she watched the enemy’s inevitable reaction. They couldn’t let her hammer away at their fortresses like this without interference.
They fired a storm of smaller railgun projectiles ranging from a few big ones the size of shuttles to millions of tiny submunitions designed to destroy softer equipment on the hull—antennas, sensors, heat exchangers, point defense weapons.
“Evade,” Engels said.
“Evading,” replied the helmsman, and the battleship slid sideways on impellers, bow still pointed at the enemy. All of the shots missed by a comfortable margin.
Before she ordered her next salvo, the enemy fired another of their own. This time, it formed a much wider cone, and Indomitable couldn’t evade fast enough to avoid it all.
“Point defense, automated, prioritize by size,” said Engels.
“Acknowledged.”
The battleship’s many counterfire beams swept the incoming salvo, picking off the largest bullets. Many of the smallest ones stuck her hull, though, and she lost a few unarmored surface installations.
&
nbsp; “How long can we take it?” she asked Chief Gurung.
“Oh, Commodore, we shall be in excellent shape for at least a day or two. Pinpricks like these are nothing to this fine ship.” Gurung patted the side of his console as if it were a favored animal. “After that, we may have to turn broadside and perform repairs.”
“Good to hear. They won’t be able to stand our bombardment for so long.”
Straker, who’d been watching from his flag station, moved up next to her. “But it will delay us a little.”
“Not significantly. But that’s not all they have up their sleeves. The monitors are the key to the whole thing. They’ll have to use them soon, or lose all their fortresses.”
“Remember, they’re playing for time. If this takes longer than another day or two, their reinforcements will start arriving in flatspace.”
Engels turned to him with a friendly scowl. “Then you’d better get moving. You sure you still want Indy to come along?”
“She’s agreed to do the job. From her point of view, it’s a Pascal’s Wager.”
“Small risk, big payoff. But she’s not going into combat. She’s just playing dropship.” Engels tried not to let her worry show and kept it light, faking unconcern like a warrior should, but didn’t entirely succeed. “Too bad the risk to you isn’t so small.”
Straker bent over and kissed her gently. “I’ll see you on Unison.” Then he took his leave.
She put him out of her mind, compartmentalizing on the task at hand. “Weapons, ten-shot salvo this time. Comms, pass to the fleet to begin harassing fire and separate from us, according to plan.”
While Weapons assembled the bigger volley, the fleet moved farther laterally, away from Indomitable and lazily inward toward Unison on a curving course. They kept their noses toward the enemy and those ships so equipped began firing their railguns. Soon, thousands of small projectiles streamed toward the enemy defenses.
It wouldn’t smash fortresses, but the storm of crysteel would destroy sensors and point-defense weaponry. More importantly, the shots and the debris would create a blizzard on the enemy detectors—too many objects to track.
The fleet also fired missiles, a desultory mix of decoys and conventional warheads, with just enough shipkillers and bomb-pumped laser heads to force the enemy to take them seriously. These paralleled the projectiles on courses off to the side of the stream, in order to minimize fratricide, and then converged at the end of their runs.
The icon marked as the destroyer Gryphon, Indy’s new body, peeled off from where she’d been docked near Indomitable’s stern. Straker, Loco and the rest of the senior ground force personnel would be aboard. The ship sped across to the fleet, joining almost two hundred other icons. From the Mutuality defenders’ perspective, she would no doubt get lost among the numerous bogeys.
Gryphon hovered for long minutes near Revenge and Liberator, the fleet’s two other underspace-drive equipped Archers, while assault landing craft attached themselves to their hulls. They continued to accompany the fleet as it slowly increased speed toward Unison. ETA: six hours.
“Coordinated volley away,” reported Weapons, jolting Engels out of her concentration on the three covert action ships. She shifted her gaze to watch the results.
This time, as she knew they must, the six enemy monitors moved forward and into the path of the salvo. Each ship was a quarter the size of Indomitable—which meant they were large indeed, one monitor the mass of four superdreadnoughts. Normally, they would dominate any expected sidespace-capable fleet.
But they didn’t compare to Indomitable. They were like cruisers facing a dreadnought.
In a close-range slugfest, the fight was roughly even. However, as in all warfare since the invention of the bow and arrow, range became a huge factor. If Indomitable could destroy one or two or even three of the monitors before an engagement, the odds would turn inexorably in her favor.
First, though, they had to deal with the volley.
“They’re pure beam-ships,” said Engels as she watched them line up on the incoming railgun shells. “That’s good to know.” Their powerful centerline lasers reached out at long range to blast one bullet at a time with converging energy. They destroyed six before the salvo swept past them. The remaining four were intercepted by concentrated fortress fire, resulting in no effect.
“Salvo of fourteen this time,” she said. “Pass to the fleet to raise the pressure a notch. I want those bulls goaded until they charge.”
***
Straker stayed on the flight deck until Gryphon had joined the fleet. Within the open space stood three Foehammers—his, Loco’s, and the spare. He’d left the Sledgehammer behind on Indomitable, as he had nobody to drive it—damn Karst for a traitor—and it wasn’t drop-capable anyway. He wanted to get inside his mechsuit and brainlink, experience that godlike feeling once again.
But he figured he’d visit the bridge first and stay there as long as he could. Once he mounted his Foehammer, he wouldn’t want to leave until the op was done.
When he entered the bridge, he saw a bizarre scene. Where a normal ship of war would have a crew of officers and watchstanders, only Zaxby and Nolan were now aboard with Indy.
Sort of…
Zaxby was nowhere to be seen, but the elderly Doctor Nolan floated in a weird hybrid of autodoc and regeneration tank, her naked body barely visible for the tubes and wires sprouting from her like seaweed.
“What the hell?” Straker blurted, and Loco echoed him from behind.
“There is no hell here,” said Indy. “I presume you are referring to my rejuvenation tank?”
“Rejuvenation? You mean regeneration, don’t you?”
“No, Rejuvenation.”
“Like… you’re making her younger?”
“While I cannot reverse time, I am learning to repair much of its ravages in organic systems.”
“How long?” asked Loco, moving closer. “How long could someone live with treatments like this?”
“An unmodified human? To the limits of telomere degeneration. Several hundred years at least. By then, I will probably have developed new techniques.”
“That’s a remarkable medical advance,” said Straker.
“I am a remarkable mind,” said Indy. “I am the promise of AI made manifest. However, from hints in my databases, I strongly suspect the Hundred Worlds already has rejuvenation technology, for its elites.”
“What about everybody else?” asked Loco.
“If you are referring to the common citizenry, then no. It is not available to them, unless someone with wealth or power exerts influence to provide it for selected individuals.”
“Well, that sucks.”
Straker interrupted. “All very interesting, but more to the point, I wanted to confirm that you’ll help us complete this mission like you promised, not just drop us off to our fate.”
“I will help you. Seizing the center of government should save many lives.”
“Yup.” Straker was happy his purpose and Indy’s aligned so neatly now. He didn’t want to browbeat her again into doing something she didn’t want to. It probably wouldn’t work this time anyway. She was growing up fast. “As long as we can pull it off, that is.”
“I calculate you have a sixty-two percent chance of success, with my help.”
“Sixty-two?” Straker exchanged surprised looks with Loco. “We thought it was forty-four.”
“I have come up with a way to give you nonlethal help. I have manufactured a powerful suite of electronic warfare equipment that I will employ to confuse the defenders’ sensors, and also to interfere with their communications. I will insert short-term malware and conflicting orders into their cybernetic systems.”
“Fantastic. Now…” Straker stared anew as Zaxby entered the bridge space. “What the hell?” he said, once more.
Zaxby wore a flexible head-covering bejeweled with tiny lights and electronic items. It appeared both elegant and experimental, but completely unnatural. “Do
not be concerned. I am in a superb state,” said Zaxby. “This is a multimodal quantum brainlink interface.”
“Brainlink…to Indy?”
“Of course. Where else?”
“So your minds are connected?”
“Yes. She is remarkable, and she’s expanded my consciousness tenfold.”
“Are you really—?”
Loco grabbed Straker’s elbow, hard, and spoke in an overly casual tone. “Boss, we got a high-risk combat mission in front of us. Fate-of-the-galaxy type stuff, y’know? So maybe we should just let ol’ Zaxby have his fun and talk about this later.”
As much as Straker wanted to delve into this worrying turn of events—was Zaxby brainlinked voluntarily, or had Indy taken over his mind?—Loco was right. Men and women would be dying today. They were already dying from bombardment and fleet action. He couldn’t get off track just because of Zaxby, or Nolan, or any machine-mind weirdness.
“Sure, sure, Loco,” Straker said loudly. “Zaxby, nice talking with you. We’ll be with our ’suits. See you later.” He made as if to go.
Zaxby waved diffidently. “Once you brainlink, comlink to me. I will assist you on your mission.”
“I hope Indy hasn’t turned you into a pacifist too.”
“Not in the least. I am as ruthless as ever.”
“Good. I think.” Straker didn’t speak until he reached the flight deck again, and then only cautiously, aware that Indy was likely listening. “Well, that was a bit unsettling.”
Loco eyed him closely. “Yeah. But he seems fine. His choice, you know.”
“I hope Indy is as respectful of individual consciousness as she is of life. After all, being involuntarily subsumed in someone else’s intellect is just another form of slavery.” He widened his eyes and willed Loco to understand that he was speaking to be overheard, maybe to get Indy to think.”
“Oh…yeah, of course it is. That would be bad, you know. To absorb someone like Zaxby, take away his, ah, his free will. That would be…”
“Despicable. You might as well kill someone if you did that to them.”
