To Hell's Heart (Crimson Worlds)

by Allan, Jay

  He had 31 bombers, each one with a veteran crew…and every one of them double loaded with plasma torpedoes. They’d be going in right behind the missiles, trying to target the ships worst damaged by the nuclear detonations. Then they’d have to get out…and do it quickly. Jacobs had launched a second spread of missiles, flushing his ships’ magazines. Bogdan wanted his craft well out of the combat zone before those nukes started blowing.

  Bogdan couldn’t help by admire Jacobs’ battle plan. A first wave of missiles, screening his bombers and causing enough damage to create vulnerable targets for the plasma torpedoes. Then a second missile attack, which would be crossing the point defense zone while the enemy was fighting off Bogdan’s attack. It’s just possible, Bogdan thought…maybe Jacobs can really take out this whole force without using the laser buoys. But his optimism didn’t last. Even with a strong plan, the mathematics of war in space were inescapable. Without a miracle, some of these Gremlins were going to survive the long-ranged attacks…and then they’d tear Jacobs’ cruisers apart with particle accelerators before he got a chance to close to laser range. The buoys had been designed to offset that mismatch, but Jacobs had forgone using his.

  “Approaching link up zone.” The bomber’s AI made the announcement. Bogdan was startled at first; the meeting point was over an hour from where they’d begun deceleration, and it seemed that only a few minutes had passed. But as the AI-administered stimulant cleared his head, he realized an hour had indeed passed while he was in his drug-induced state.

  He sat up in his chair, twisting his head, working the kinks out. “Pilot taking over.” He reached out, grabbing the controls as the AI relinquished the flying duties to him. “Attention all craft.” He was speaking into the com, transmitting on the force-wide line. “I want everyone at 150% for this attack. If you think you need another stim, take one now.” He looked down, checking the tactical display. He smiled broadly. The strike force was in perfect formation.

  “All units. Perform final weapon system diagnostics and arm plasma torpedoes.” It was almost time.

  Jacobs was sitting on the bridge, watching the scanning report from his missile barrage. The enemy point defense had been effective, knocking out two-thirds of the incoming warheads, but the surviving missiles were performing far beyond his expectations. One Gremlin had already been destroyed, caught between two 500 megaton explosions each less than a kilometer away. Another four enemy vessels had taken significant damage, and half the others suffered minor hits.

  Now it was his turn. The enemy barrage was almost through his own defensive zone. At least half the approaching missiles had been destroyed, and his shotguns were still firing full, whittling down the incoming volley. Still, his ships were going to take a lot of damage…that was basic math. They should survive it, most of them at least, as long as none of those warheads were antimatter-armed. As far as Jacobs knew, no Gremlin the Pact had yet faced had been antimatter-equipped, but he also realized that guaranteed exactly nothing.

  “Lead missiles entering detonation zone.” Carp knew Jacobs was completely aware of the enemy missiles’ location, but it was his job to advise him anyway.

  Both the First Imperium and the human powers utilized missiles in the same basic manner. The goal was to get the warheads as close as possible to an enemy vessel and then detonate them. Missiles were intended to score near misses, not direct hits. It was almost impossible to accurately target something as small as a spaceship from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, especially when the target was exerting random thrust in an evasive pattern.

  Nuclear explosions in space were obviously dangerous to anything nearby, though the effective zone was far smaller than it would be in an atmosphere. A weapon that would carry deadly shockwaves and heat 10 kilometers on a planetary surface might be truly dangerous only out 1-2 klicks in space.

  The First Imperium had better targeting systems, but they were susceptible to human ECM and more easily confused by truly random maneuvering. Overall, the two sides were fairly evenly matched in missile duels. Unless the enemy had antimatter warheads.

  “Detonations, captain.” Carp was bent over his workstation, as usual. “All standard nuclear warheads so far.”

  Jacobs sighed softly. He hadn’t really expected antimatter weapons from the Gremlins, but it was good to be sure. “Very well, commander. All damage reports as they come in.” He knew there would be a lot of them.

  “Kooshi govno ee oomree!” Bogdan’s shouted with a laugh, wondering how much indigestion he’d just given the translation AI. The shot had been perfect, a bullseye. The Gremlin had been hit hard by Jacobs’ missiles, and a secondary explosion had blown a ten meter-wide hole in the hull. Hitting a 10-meter target in space combat was like splitting an arrow, but Bogdan had landed his torpedo dead center. The stricken enemy ship was bursting open like a hatching egg. There were massive internal explosions and vast plumes of internal gasses blasting into space. “That’s one fucker down!”

  Pavel Bogdan was a hardened veteran, calm and professional in the face of the enemy. But he was a true fighter pilot at heart…a tracker, a hunter. There was nothing more exhilarating to him than the kill, and that went double when fighting these scum-sucking robot ships. In his wars against other humans, he’d been just as driven, but victory was always tempered with respect for those who fell under his guns. But fighting this enemy felt more like exterminating vermin. There was no pity, no mercy, no hesitation.

  His crew was cheering too, watching the enemy ship’s death struggle on the monitor. The strike force was ripping through the enemy fleet, blasting straight at their targets and firing at point blank range. They paid a price for their aggressiveness…10 bombers were destroyed by close in point defense. But 19 of the remaining 21 scored solid hits. Six Gremlins had been completely destroyed, and all the rest had at least some damage. Bogdan counted four cripples among the survivors, ships so badly damaged he doubted they could have much offensive capacity to hurt Jacobs’ fleet.

  “Well done. We earned our pay today, my comrades.” Bogdan’s voice roared on the force-wide com line. There were only 63 of them left, on 21 surviving ships, but they had done their duty. “Now it’s time to get back to base before these bastards pull themselves together and start shooting at us again. All craft, prepare for full thrust.”

  Yes, he thought…we earned our pay today, he thought with satisfaction. But he knew the day wasn’t over yet.

  Compton took a deep breath, then another, enjoying the absence of crushing pressure. The fleet had been at 30g for almost eight hours, with just a short break to launch Hurley’s strike force. He pulled himself upright. His muscles were stiff and sore, but his mind was clear. He owed that to the double dose of stims.

  “Status report, Commodore Harmon.”

  His aide was already bolt upright and working furiously at his controls. Well, Compton thought, he’s a lot younger than me.

  “The main enemy force has completed transit, sir. They have continued decelerating. Current estimate is they will enter missile range in approximately 45 minutes.” Harmon paused, checking his other readouts. “Admiral Jacobs’ ships have withdrawn away from the enemy approach vector and are conducting emergency repairs.”

  Compton allowed himself a fleeting smile. Admiral Jacobs had earned his stars and then some. His combined missile and bomber attack had savaged the enemy vanguard, and a second sortie by his battered bomber wings had taken out all the survivors. Compton hadn’t been sure Jacobs’ people could handle the entire enemy force, not without using their laser buoys. They’d done it, though…and Jacobs still had 3 or 4 cruisers in good enough shape to get back in the fight if they were needed.

  Scouting Fleet’s bomber force had given its all. Only 13 of its 42 original craft were still functional. Pavel Bogdan’s wasn’t one of them. He’d taken a hit on the second sortie, and the cockpit erupted in flames. Somehow he’d managed to give first aid to his two crew members and engage the AI before passing out fro
m the pain. He was in Borodino’s sickbay, horribly burned, with no better than a 50/50 chance of survival.

  Compton had never met Bogdan, but from what he’d heard, the Russian was one hell of a pilot and officer. He hoped he’d get the chance to congratulate him when the fighting was through.

  But he had other things to do now. “Commodore Harmon, all vessels are to prepare for missile launch. We’ll be clearing the external racks and then firing an immediate barrage from internal magazines.”

  Harmon paused for an instant. Firing from the magazines right after launching externally mounted missiles was tricky. Ejecting the empty mounts was a complex operation, and ships had to fire their positioning engines to realign themselves afterward. Hurrying the process vastly increased the risk of problems. But Harmon knew Compton was well aware of the difficulties. “Yes, sir. Advising all task forces now.”

  Even without the other half of Grand Fleet, the force under Compton’s command was the largest fleet any human being had ever led into battle. On the journey to the frontier, Compton had wondered how it would feel to be sitting in his chair commanding such an awesome force, how he would handle the pressure. Now that he was there, it didn’t seem very different from any other battle. He was cold, focused…everything he had to be during a fight. Later he would second guess his decisions, and then the regret would come, and the grief for those lost. But there was no place for that in the heat of battle, and Compton had locked it away…as he always did.

  Jacob’s laser buoys had attacked almost immediately after the enemy fleet entered the system. Scanning data was still incomplete, but it looked like at least 4 Gargoyles had been destroyed and one of the Leviathans was heavily damaged. Compton was grateful. Jacobs’ heroism in holding back the buoys would make a big difference when the main lines clashed.

  John Duke’s attack ships would be going in next. Then Greta Hurley’s people would attack right behind Compton’s first missile volley. With any luck, the enemy fleet would suffer serious losses before they even engaged Compton’s main force.

  “Commodore Harmon, all ships are to prepare to deploy laser buoys after missile launch.” He was going to place his own x-ray lasers right here. “Targeting programs will prioritize the enemy Leviathans.” Compton really wanted those monsters destroyed as quickly as possible.

  “Yes, admiral.”

  “And prepare a thrust plan. The fleet will be pulling back 1,500,000 kilometers after laser deployment.” He wanted his laser buoys engaging the enemy before his own ships were within energy weapons range.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Compton leaned back and stared at the display. He was silent. His thoughts were with John Duke and Greta Hurley.

  “Group A, begin deceleration in three zero seconds.” Hurley was speaking loudly, almost shouting. She didn’t want any slipups on this mission. Her A group was assigned to missile defense, their sole focus taking out as many antimatter missiles as possible before they could reach the fleet.

  “Group B, prepare for acceleration in six zero seconds.” B Group – along with Hurley herself – was going at the enemy fleet, coordinating its assault with Compton’s first missile barrage. With missiles and bombers coming in at once, the enemy would have to split their point defense fire. Hurley had no idea if they’d concentrate on one threat or divide their resources, but either way, more attacks were going to get through to the enemy line.

  Her plan was complicated, and she’d drilled it into her squadron leaders’ heads. They were going to be attacking as the missiles were seeking targets and detonating. She and Compton had worked out specific attack corridors for her wings…designated locations the missiles would be programmed to avoid. If her pilots got crazy, if they flew out of their specified zones, they could easily find themselves on top of a 500 megaton warhead about to blow.

  One thing would be different about this attack than the last. Hurley’s ship would be in the middle of the action. Commander Wilder had put up a good fight, invoking Garret’s name at least three times. But Hurley wouldn’t take no for an answer. She came close to bringing her sidearm into the debate, but Wilder finally relented. He didn’t like hanging back from the fight any more than she did.

  “A Leader to command…A group breaking off now.” Hurley had handpicked Captain Akira to lead the anti-missile group. He was the PRC’s most accomplished pilot, and she trusted him to direct the pinpoint flying it would take to effectively intercept the enemy’s antimatter missiles. She’d given him the PRC squadrons and a good portion of her own Alliance flyers. She kept the less experienced Europan and CAC bomber wings in her B Group. They were more accustomed to executing attack runs at capital ships, and she knew she’d be there to keep them on a tight leash.

  “Initiating thrust in 10 seconds, admiral.” The AIs on every ship were making the same announcement. The acceleration couches were partially deployed, which would provide enough support against the 10g maximum she expected from her thrust plan. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but she wanted to avoid having her crews under the influence of the drug cocktail a full burn would require. She didn’t think anyone could be 100% right after coming out of that, even with the stims…and she wanted everyone in her group focused like razors.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the AI count down the final few seconds to the burn. She’d gotten knocked out of the last fight early, but this time she was going right down their throats.

  Chapter 27

  First Imperium Sector Base

  Planet Sigma 4 II

  Cain had been standing and staring for at least ten minutes. The room itself was enough to inspire awe. It was perfectly round, 300 meters in diameter, rising 80 meters from where he stood. He was on the edge of a circular catwalk looking down. The space was impressive enough, but the giant dish below was truly extraordinary. It looked like some type of antenna or projector, but Cain was just guessing. Hector told him it was exactly 240 meters in diameter, constructed of a material similar to that in the First Imperium warship hulls.

  “Confirm that energy reading, Hector.” Cain heard what his AI said, but he simply didn’t believe it.

  “The object appears be powered by a total of 3.17 terawatts of power. This is, without question, a major component of the power output we detected from the exterior of the facility.”

  Cain stood on the catwalk silently, staring at the alien mechanism. Hofstader was standing next to him, working with a small scanning device. “Can you detect the power source, Friederich? I can’t imagine what could be producing so much energy.”

  “I believe I can offer you an answer to that question…if you do not mind my filling in the gaps with conjecture.” The scientist’s eyes didn’t move from the device in his hands.

  “Not at all. I’d appreciate any thoughts you have.”

  Hofstader finally looked up from his scanner, turning to face Cain. “It appears that the entire facility is powered by the internal energy generated by this planet. There are a number of significant similarities with the energy sources in the antimatter factory on Epsilon Eridani IV.”

  “I would have expected it to take some type of massive reactor to generate that kind of power.” Cain’s eyes had drifted back to the giant dish.

  “Our studies on Epsilon Eridani IV have been quite illuminating, general. We have known for centuries the vast amount of energy that could theoretically be tapped from the geothermal and tectonic properties of a planet.” He paused, catching himself before he launched into a full blown lecture. You’re not in a classroom, he reminded himself. “Simply put, our exploitation of this energy source has always been limited by engineering constraints. We’ve been compelled to locate geothermal power plants near points where tectonic plates meet, for example, and our conversion efficiencies are therefore very low.” His eyes moved toward the alien structure. “But the First Imperium has far more advanced technology. On Carson’s World, there are multiple shafts drilled directly to the planet’s core.” He paused again.
“The First Imperium is able to harness virtually all of a planet’s energy, a power source equal to thousands, if not millions, of fusion reactors. It is the secret to their ability to mass produce antimatter.”

  “So the ability to power this device is not even extraordinary to them?” Cain’s question didn’t really demand a response…he knew the answer already. “Do you have any ideas on the purpose of thing?”

  “I am speculating wildly, General Cain, but it appears to be some sort of jamming mechanism utilizing a form of dark energy we do not completely understand, one that is difficult even to detect. It may very well be projecting a field that would make an object in nearby space invisible and otherwise undetectable.” Hofstader was walking slowly along the catwalk, his eyes fixed on the object. “That might explain why we detected nothing from orbit. I’m afraid our scanning devices are nearly useless with these types of emissions.”

  Cain stood facing Hofstader. “Are you saying you believe there is something hidden somewhere near this planet? Something we have not picked up on our scanners?”

  “That is exactly what I am saying, General Cain. Though the entire supposition is pure guesswork.” There was doubt in Hofstader’s voice, but only a touch. He sounded fairly confident.

  “I have to warn Admiral Garret.” Cain’s voice had become more urgent. “There could be some type of fortress or battleship hiding up there.”

  “Indeed, general. That is a very real possibility.” Hofstader paused. “But I would guess that it is something different, more singular. Though I am at a loss to offer a suggestion as to what that may be.”