Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  "We first spotted something strange about half an hour ago," Number One said, sounding very stressed. "We waited for a quarter of an hour for the tracks to firm up, then I went to wake you. In the meantime, we checked with several other flagships and they all are showing the same course adjustments. I ordered every ship to check their search sensors and they have. What you see is what she is actually doing," the staff officer said, stuttering a bit as he finished.

  Admiral Zom ordered his battle board to extrapolate where the Human's fleet deceleration would place it in thirteen, twenty-six, and thirty-nine hours. When those new vectors were overlaid with his present course and acceleration, the results were enough to make an admiral wish to be a fingerling again.

  Zom growled at the display. "We must slow down to round Longnae 5. Meanwhile, she will whiz by us in a flash. Our fire control systems will hardly be able to target a ship with that much energy on it. They would find us as easy to hit as ducks floating on a pond."

  Admiral Zom made a face at his board. "Worse, when she finishes shooting us up, she will be between us and Longnae 4."

  "We will also be between her battle fleet and her invasion transports, Most Eminent Admiral."

  "Show me the transports," Zom demanded.

  The scale of the battle board zoomed out to show much more of the system. Then the board went blank for the better part of a minute while its computer calculated the information on the course the transports had been following for the last half day.

  When the screen came back, Admiral Zom barely managed to suppress a groan. The transports had changed course at the same time the battlefleet had reduced its deceleration. They were now headed for Longnae 7. That would open up a large number of options. The troop ships could return back to Jump Point 5. They could take off for Jump Point 3. They could aim for Longnae 6 and let it sling them around and direct them toward the industries of Longnae 4.

  Not one of those choices need be taken until they were on approach to Longnae 7. In the meantime, any ship that he sent after them would be conducting a long, stern chase.

  There would be nothing to keep the battle fleet of that tadpole keeping the throne warm from ordering its own Marines to occupy Longnae 4. Then that Human's battlecruisers could take off to intercept his ships for a second time. Would that battle go any better than the potential only one a day away?

  "Battle board, assume my fleet increases its acceleration to three gees."

  The board went blank again as the computer did the necessary calculations. The flag bridge was cool and drenched in shadows as he and his staff waited in silence for the results of his question.

  The board came to life. Again, it showed where the two battle fleets would be in thirteen, twenty-six, and thirty-nine hours. Admiral Zom saw that his fleet would still be rounding Longnae 5 after his enemy’s fleet had sped by. There would be no battle. That was not the way of his old Tong. No. The Human was showing her yellow belly.

  However, he could accelerate to catch up with the fleet commanded by that Human. In all likelihood, the enemy would have the advantage of firing salvo after salvo at his stern. Her ships would be targeting his vulnerable rocket motors and fusion reactors that, if hit, could destroy the ship quicker than any other laser strike.

  He could not let his enemy get ahead of him.

  "Battle board, recalculate assuming a 3.5 gee acceleration and deceleration by our fleet."

  "At what point do you intend to flip ship and begin deceleration?" the computer asked.

  "Six hours from now," Admiral Zom snapped, picking a time off the top of his head. He had to accelerate as much as possible before he began the deceleration. He needed to pick up minutes to get his fleet there faster.

  Once again, the board went blank. Once again, the Iteeche standing around the board were silent as the seconds ticked by. At their stations around the flag bridge, watch standers did their duty but it was easy to tell that they behaved as if they were walking on eggs. No one wanted to disturb the admiral while he was making life and death decisions.

  The board did not come back in a minute, or in two minutes. It was closer to five minutes later before the screen came to life. What it showed explained the delay.

  The intent had been to use Longnae 5 to swing the force around back toward the planet they were set on defending. The results on the board showed a fleet sling shooting around the small gas giant. However, lots of ships failed to complete the course reversal and headed off in all kinds of different directions.

  The battlecruisers swooped low, then shot into a high elliptical orbit. Rocket engines quickly brought them around to a course headed for Longnae 4. The gunboats, however, were not so lucky.

  Depending on the size of the reactor and the mass of the ship it powered, that class failed to make any kind of an orbit, but rather did a slingshot off the planet, and headed for points unknown. Some managed to swing around, but it was slow and took up a good chunk of space.

  They would never rejoin the battlecruisers.

  Other ships never managed to turn the corner and just kept going. Admiral Zom measured their situation with a sailor's eye and shook his head. The best these ships could hope for was to make for Jump Point 5 and use it to jump into an empty system.

  With luck, they might be close enough to a gas giant so they could refuel and aim themselves back at the jump. Zom scowled. Jump 5 was never used; he had no idea what lay in that next system.

  "Number One, orders to the fleet. Prepare to go to 3.5 gees in ten minutes."

  "To hear is to make it so," the staff officer said, and moved off to the comm section.

  "Battle board, what deceleration would I have to use in order to have my entire fleet successfully swing around Longnae 5? Assume I accelerate at 3.5 gees for the next six hours?"

  The board went blank.

  Admiral Zom relaxed into his high gee couch and eyed the bridge. They were professionals, going about their duties.

  "You, Boson," the admiral snapped.

  The Boson's mate immediately snapped to attention. "Yes, My Admiral."

  "What kind of midrats is the galley handing out tonight?"

  "I do not know, Sir. None of us have taken a break to drop down to the galley."

  "Well, you or somebody see that the galley sends up midrats for everyone on my bridge. I would prefer brown bread with white berry preserves, but I'll settle for rotten fish just now. Oh, tea and coffee as well. Tonight, we will likely need both."

  "To hear is to have it done," the bosun answered, and left the bridge at a brisk walk. The young and strong handled higher gees so well.

  The board still hadn't come back with an answer, so he took the moment to get up and roam the bridge. He peeked over shoulders and watched the actual information coming in.

  His fleet was at a hard 3.5 gees. All these thousands of ships were holding to their assigned location. Despite so many of the ships having been cobbled together in haste, not one of them had suffered a breakdown or fallen out. The battle was developing so well. Now, if that Longknife woman would just play her part.

  Stored at the rear of the bridge were the new and improved high gee stations for the rest of the bridge crew. They had come aboard in the last month, manufactured by a steel foundry on Breda 4. Someone deserved to rot in the deepest depths of the dark abyss for not thinking of such things when the Human programmers were still working on the battlecruisers.

  Then, of course, everyone agreed that warriors went into battle standing tall. The idea of sitting or reclining at a battle station was an abominable thought. Everyone remembered how the Humans had zoomed about in the Human War, but no one expected to be facing them again.

  All the battlecruisers ran through their trials at never more than 1.5 gee.

  However, no sooner had the rebellion decided to send its Human programmers and engineers packing than the Longknife woman showed up. First thing she did was start zooming Iteeche battlecruisers around at two and three gees. The Human ships even di
d four or five gees.

  "All hands, prepare for three point five gees in ten minutes," blared from the ship's communications system. "All hands, prepare for three point five gees in ten minutes."

  Admiral Zom could almost feel the thud of four thousand Iteeche feet hitting the deck as sailors and officers were roused from their sleep and pounded off to their battle stations to slip into their high gee stations.

  A Marine guard marched over to the admiral's station and began pumping it full of water. The admiral returned to it and stepped into it. It had padded holders for all four of his legs. This version allowed him to flex his knees as the station reclined to its full forty degrees from the vertical. This version had additional padding under his hips, back, and shoulders. There were even supports for his arms. Although he could not move them, he could adjust the armrests before locking them in place.

  It was quite an improvement from the high gee station he'd used just three months ago. Feeling ensnared by some monster, Admiral Zom eyed his battle board from within the station, then reclined at a mere five degrees.

  At that moment, the battle board lit up and filled with information. In the version before him, his entire fleet managed to swing wide around Longnae 5 and come to a parallel course with the enemy fleet. However, the numbers beside the ships were appalling.

  If he accelerated at 3.5 gees for the next six hours, he'd have to decelerate at 3.7 gees for most of the rest of the way to Longnae 5. Short of that planet, he'd have to take the fleet up to 4.0 gees, and hit 4.5 gees as his fleet rounded the planet.

  Even then, he'd have to accept a quite wide orbit coming out from Longnae 5. Likely that would put his ships way too close to the enemy fleet.

  However, that might not be such a bad idea. The shorter the range between his fleet and the enemy, the more likely his lasers were to inflict damage.

  Admiral Zom frowned at the results. All this assumed that his ships and crews were still combat ready after pulling those hard gees. How many of his ships would have fallen out of formation, shooting off into space at any point in the swing around their pivot planet?

  The clan chiefs had assured Admiral Zom that the new gunboats could handle anything the battlecruisers could. However, Zom had walked the tight passageways of a battlecruiser at Condition Zed, ready for combat.

  At Condition Zed, the large comfortable battlecruiser vanished. Its hull thickened up, as did all its strength members. It became a very tight nut to crack. The gunboats were designed to fit around every reactor their planet could manufacture. The yards had thrown them together using any parts at hand. Were they rugged enough?

  This was the first test of such emergency construction. It was a hasty merging of traditional steel, well-tested reactors, and lasers of all sizes and manufacturing. Eighty years ago, the Iteeche would have been so proud of a fleet like this.

  Eighty years ago, a fleet like this could have swept the Humans before it.

  Now, however, the Humans had these abyss-spawned battlecruisers. Ships that they could program so easily and so quickly. Yet, the Iteeche Empire and its rebels had failed miserably in stealing their control and programming arts. It seemed as if the Iteeche computers could not relate to the magic metal.

  "Number One, attend me," Admiral Zom said softly.

  His Number One staff officer moved cautiously to his side. He could still move about because he had yet to ensconce himself in a high gee couch. "Yes, Most Eminent Admiral."

  "Listen to me as I list my options and tell me if I missed one."

  "Yes, Most Eminent Admiral."

  "We can ignore Longnae 5 and shoot close aboard the Human-led fleet for one pass, then head for Jump 3 and leave this system. We can then seek another planet to defend and prepare to meet the enemy fleet there."

  "Yes, Most Eminent Admiral. What do you think the ruling council would think of that?"

  "They might very well have my head. At best, I would be relieved of my command."

  "Most likely."

  Admiral Zom noticed the lack of "Most Eminent Admiral," from his Number One staff officer. Might some of his admirals chose to mutiny and fight this battle? If the fleet crumbled into a half-dozen admirals all giving different orders, it would be massacred. No, he had to keep command.

  "Secondly, I can follow a safe course around Longnae 5, pivot the entire fleet there, but be way behind this Human Longknife woman. When we joined battle, we would be decelerating with our engines and reactors vulnerable to their fire."

  "I would hate to fight that battle," Number One said carefully.

  "Yes, I agree. Third, I can ride hell for deep abyss, lose a part of my fleet as we pivot on Longnae 5, swing close to the foolish supporters of the tadpole on the throne, and maybe get in some good hits as they pass us. We could match course with the enemy fleet and steer close or bear off, depending on how the gun battle goes."

  "Yes, Most Eminent Admiral.”

  Zom kept his face perfectly bland. However, that last remark told him what course of action his Number One would back.

  "Do you see any other option?" the admiral asked.

  Number One did not fire back a rote acceptance of his admiral's ideas, but instead leaned over the battle board and studied it for a long minute. Finally, he said, "We risk losing an unknown portion of our fleet as we wheel tight around Longnae 5. We will not know how many we lose until we have done it. The builders insist that the new ships are as strong as our battlecruisers."

  "If I had a livre for every time a builder did not deliver on his promises, I could buy myself a mountain retreat," the admiral growled.

  "Yes, Most Eminent Admiral. Still, I must throw my support behind your third option. Go for broke and let the abyss swallow those who cannot follow you."

  "Very good, Number One. Let us get into our new high gee stations. I think we will be spending a lot of time in them."

  "Oh yes," the staff officer chuckled, and began to adjust his station.

  At the end of the ten minute warning period, the fleet accelerated to 4.0 gees.

  53

  "Kris, the rebel fleet has just gone to 3.5 gees acceleration."

  Being roused from a pleasant sleep, Kris was a bit groggy. "Repeat that," she ordered as she blinked her way out of what was likely to be her best sleep for the rest of this battle.

  "The admiral commanding the rebel fleet has increased his acceleration, from 3.0 gees to 3.5."

  "What's that in Iteeche gravities?" Kris asked as she sat up in bed.

  Jack was already up, and rummaging through their clothes locker. "Do you want khaki or ship's knits?" he asked.

  "In Iteeche gees, the rebel commander has gone from 3.5 gees to 4.0," Nelly answered Kris's question.

  "Shipsuits," Kris said, answering Jack's question. "I don't know when we'll have to go into the high gee stations." It was usually better to be unclothed before you slipped into the tight confines of one of those things. Simple blue shipsuits were easier to slip out of.

  Jack tossed her a soft jumpsuit as well as two booties for her feet.

  "That must be a real pain to put on three gees for an Iteeche. I wonder if they've got high gee stations to soften their weight?"

  "Likely they've got something better than they had before you got called back to play patty cake with the clans in the Imperial Capital," Jack shot back, not even trying to keep bitterness out of his voice.

  Kris scowled. She'd known when she was called back from the front line of the civil war that the rebels would use this time to regroup and come up with new surprises for her. She'd already seen several classes of new, smaller warships. Now she was about to learn about what was inside them.

  With her own ships decelerating at only half a gee, Kris had to be careful as she paced off the distance between her night quarters and her flag bridge.

  Nelly had Kris's battle board already up to date with the enemy's acceleration. She had course estimates assuming they stayed at this acceleration for two, four, six, and eight hours.


  It took only a glance to tell Kris that the eight-hour duration would scatter the hostile fleet all over this system's outer rim.

  "Eliminate the eight-hour estimate," Kris said, and that cleared up some of the clutter.

  "What speed did you base these courses on, coming out of Longnae 5?" Jack asked.

  "I assumed 3.5 gees deceleration," Nelly answered.

  Kris shook her head. "All of these courses have the rebel fleet going wide of the mark as they go around their pivot planet. They should be flipping ship and starting to decelerate, not the other way around. Only the course where they stay at three gee for two hours gives them any chance of ending up within attack range of us."

  "Yes, Kris," Nelly answered.

  "That sounds like a waste of time, going to three gees for just two hours," Jack said, confirming Kris's thoughts.

  With a sigh, Kris stuck her neck out. "Nelly, assume that this admiral wants to get in range of our fleet sometime after he does his U-turn. How many gees will he have to pull going around Longnae 5 to get in such a position?"

  The board flickered and new courses appeared. With gees appended to each course at different times, it was very messy. "Nelly, show me just the course he'd have to take after six hours at 3.5 of his gees."

  The clutter disappeared. One course now enclosed Longnae 5, looped high around it, then settled down on a course that ran parallel to Kris's at extreme range. The two fleets were about even, so they would be exchanging salvo for salvo, trying to melt the heaviest armor.

  The enemy fleet was at 3.5 gees as it approached the planet. It increased to 4.5 gees when it was five hours out, then five gees for the swing around the planet. It had to stay at five gees for four hours after that in order to slow down enough to match course with Kris's fleet as well as to avoid crashing through her formation.

  "Do you think he might be willing to crash our line?" Jack asked.

  "I haven't taken the Iteeche for suicidal," Kris said.

  The two of them eyed each other. There was a lot about the Iteeche that they didn't understand. They'd had to pry mouths open to keep assassins from swallowing poison. Was that there to help them avoid torture during interrogation or to assure that their bosses didn't have to answer embarrassing questions? Or maybe a bit of both?