The Code

by Doug Dandridge

  The Machine ships still retained some of the human sized missiles, about a fifth of their magazines, not willing to put all their tactical eggs in an unproven basket. They even kept a couple of score of their larger, small spacecraft sized weapons, but not for offensive action. They had also been rebuilt, repurposed, and here they would be able to test them. For the AI had calculated that even if it crushed the humans here, along with their allies, it would still have to one day face the Empire. In that fight it would need every advantage it could get.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on. Franklin D. Roosevelt

  BOLTHOLE SYSTEM.

  “The decoy gate is in place,” announced the chief of staff, Captain Cassidy Carson, sitting her station at the far side of the control room.

  “Then let’s hope it fools them,” said Admiral Anaru Henare, looking at the construct on the viewer. It was as large as a ship gate, with the same number of grabber units to move it. The shimmering field of a wormhole stretched across the square opening. Thing was, that shimmering image was not a wormhole, but an electromag field infused with magnetic material that mimicked the surface of a portal. Just like the grabbers were not all grabbers, since the mass they needed to move was a twentieth that of the real gate. From close up it looked a lot like a real gate, which hopefully meant that at a distance it would be even more difficult to detect as a fake.

  The fake was moving into clear view around the sphere of the asteroid, right into the targeting pips of the enemy ships. The real wormhole gate was still sheltering behind the asteroid, back and toward the closest edge, and another surprise had been prepared for that gate. There were forty capital ships from the home fleet on the other side of that portal. And they would not be transiting that gate.

  Henare had come up with the idea after he had looked over battle reports from the war against the Ca’cadasans. The Cacas didn’t have the missile accelerator tubes that the Empire used. It was thought they were developing them, but the complex systems were not that easy to design, and it took considerable industrial resources to build. The Empire had been working with them since before the war, and had gotten to the point where they were able to roll them out by the hundreds every month. The Cacas were forced to use another system, one that was not a tenth as efficient as the one the humans used. But it worked, in its fashion, and the admiral was hoping that a modified form would work here as well.

  There was a second structure, also an electromagnetic projector as large as the gate, which would turn missiles slightly in space, enough to make up for the discrepancy between the orientation of the real gate and the fake. There could be some problems with it, but if it worked properly it would fool the Machines to an even greater extent.

  I wish we had a second gate to use, thought the admiral, shaking his head at the absurdity of the thing. They actually had three in-system, with the fortuitous arrival of a wormhole equipped battle cruiser. The ship gate and a passenger gate in the Bolthole asteroid that led to the Donut. They might be able to get another gate frame up in a couple of hours. Moving the other ends into frames and erecting them would take more than four or five hours, since there were none of the self-erecting type available, and the admiral didn’t think they would have that time. And while they were doing that they would not be able to fire weapons through their one wormhole launcher, or evacuate people through the portal on the asteroid. So the stopgap measure was the only solution.

  The Empire had developed the self-expanding gate system that could make both ends and anchor them in minutes. They were all over the Empire, but unfortunately none were available in the Supersystem at the moment. There were a couple being moved that would get into place in five or six hours. Still, it would only make sense to reconfigure the other wormholes and take them out of use if the ship gate was taken out.

  “Enemy ships have fired another volley, sir,” called out his tactical officer, Commander Dontavious Jackson, sitting at a large station below the raised dais where the admiral and his chief of staff sat. “This one seems a little bit more, unusual, sir.”

  “Unusual? How?”

  “There are a lot more of them. And the individual graviton emissions and their acceleration figures don’t seem to jive with what we know of their missiles.”

  “Any idea what they are?”

  “I believe these are smaller mass weapons, sir. A third the mass of the ones they copied from us. But three times more.”

  “What…?”

  The tactical utility of that strategy was apparent to the admiral immediately. While each missile might not have the hitting power of a one-hundred-ton capital ship weapon, they would still do considerable damage with a kinetic strike. And it would take three times the number of defensive hits, counter-missiles or laser blasts, to destroy them before they could hit the human ships.

  “Can you figure out a way to engage them all, Jackson?” he asked the commander who was controlling all of the defensive weapons around the asteroid and its orbiting platforms.

  The commander’s board was surrounded by view-screens and holo projections, giving him a handle on everything that could shoot at the enemy. Klassekian com techs imputed information at their stations, gaining it from their siblings aboard ships. If there had been more wormholes aboard many of those ships he would have gotten much more detailed sensor information in real time. Without them, he was depending on graviton emissions and what could be gleaned by ships much closer to the enemy.

  “I, can’t think of anything right now, sir.” The commander looked over at his subordinates, a pair sitting at stations to either side of him. “You two monitor the situation. There’s not a lot we can do for the next couple of hours, anyway. You others. I’m going to send information over to your stations. Run computer searches and see what you can find.” The commander turned back toward his admiral. “We’ll do what we can, sir. But you may want to get in touch with Admiral Chan and the CNO. See what they can do for us.”

  Henare nodded. He didn’t like the answer, but it was the only one that was forthcoming for the time being.

  If we had more warp fighters we could intercept a lot more of them. Problem was, if a warp fighter could kill a big missile, it could kill a smaller weapon. Against three times more that meant three times more maneuvers, since it was unlikely to luck out and shoot down more than one during an interception. They lost fighters intercepting missiles, not many, but three times more could mean triple the loses, depending on the defensive capabilities of those enemy weapons. He could hope that these smaller missiles didn’t carry the defenses of the larger, but wouldn’t know until their fighters approached them. And his fighters were still battling their way through to the other missile swarms, as well as dogfighting the enemy warp craft.

  Let’s see if the folks back home can come up with another miracle, he thought, turning toward his com officer to give the command.

  * * *

  Powers let out a sigh of relief as the last enemy fighter disappeared from the bridge’s small tactical plot. She had lost another thirteen fighters, but had taken out over a hundred of the enemy birds. Considering that they were unfeeling AIs piloting those ships, on an emotional level it didn’t make up for losing thirteen living crews. Still, she had the satisfaction of knowing that the odds for the rest of her crews making it back to their families had increased considerably.

  “We still have over a hundred missiles on course for the planet, ma’am,” called out the sensor tech.

  “Then let’s get on them,” she ordered, just before her com tech turned back with a frown on her alien face.

  “The admiral is reporting that the enemy has launched a massive strike on the Bolthole asteroid.” The tech held up a tentacle for a moment, cutting her captain off while she listened to the next order. “He wants us to finish off these missiles first. By that time he will have decided where to vector us to.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Powers. “Let t
he admiral know we will comply.” She felt a sense of relief at the orders. While the asteroid and all of its subsidiary platforms were the most important targets in the system, the planet that was being brought to life held a special place in the hearts of all the personnel in the system.

  “All birds. Take the missile coming up on your targeting console and blow it out of space. Careful of your approach. I’m going to be pissed if anyone gets killed by a damned missile’s defense lasers.”

  She was pissed several minutes later. One of the ships had made a bad approach and had been taken out. But all the missiles were gone, and now she waited for the orders to come across for the next target.

  “We’re being vectored toward the main missile stream, ma’am. Orders are to take as many of them out as possible. And, ma’am. Command reports that these are new weapons of unknown capabilities. Smaller, but more of them. They advise us to be careful.”

  Wonderful, thought Powers, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. Unknown capabilities was a word to bring terror to any commander. That meant they had to imagine the worst, and attack accordingly. Which could lead to much worse results than if they had known what they were up against.

  “All birds. Head onto the vector coming up on your computers. And be careful on approach. I’m thinking these birds have less defensive firepower than the bigger weapons, but I don’t want to learn I’m wrong the hard way.”

  * * *

  “Preparing to fire, sir.”

  This was what Henare was waiting for. He didn’t have the wormhole launchers to send a massive wave at the enemy at the highest possible velocity. And while he could bring more ships through, as long as there were any available, they couldn't bring their wormholes with them. The only way he could get more would be if they sent them through hyperspace, a trip of several months in VII. Time he doubted this enemy would give him.

  At the moment he had twelve battle cruisers from the Blackhole Defense Force of Home Fleet on the other side of the wormhole. The twelve ships would have been a good addition to his own force, but not enough to tip the scales. The wormhole launchers would have been a fine addition, if they could have transited with them, which they could not. But, lined up as they were, actually touching hulls, they could bring all twelve of their launchers to bear through the wormhole. Each launcher was attached to fifteen accelerator tubes in structures orbiting the Donut. The brains who had thought this one out, after Henare had given them the initial idea, had figured it best not to shoot all of them through the wormhole at once, lest missiles run into each other, not an outcome predicted to lead to positive results.

  Going through the second structure would also have been problematic for so many missiles. They would have been too spread out, and the chances of hitting the edge of the accelerator structure would have been increased exponentially. The way they were being fired the missiles would go through one at a time, a picosecond translation while the magnetic field hit it to the side like a hammer blow, changing its vector just enough to make it traverse the fake wormhole on a straight path.

  “Firing.”

  The first pair of launchers let fly in a slightly offset manner, sending out sixty missiles travelling at point nine-five light, then disappearing through the mirrored surface of the wormhole and continuing out through Bolthole space. The missiles instantly curved through electromagnetic field structure and headed for the fake wormhole. Two seconds later the next pair fired, then the next, until in twelve seconds three hundred and sixty missiles were in space, transiting first the real wormhole, then the vector changer, then the illusionary field of the decoy. It was important that the enemy thought that the fake was their point of origin, if they happened to be watching. It might take hours to see, but they eventually would.

  Eighteen seconds went by, while the ends of the ship launcher wormholes were moved to another accelerator tube, and the firing continued as the first were mated. It went smoothly through three rotations before some problems in the timing of moving the wormholes inevitably occurred. It didn’t really matter, as the computer controlling the firing adjusted the sequence, and though some volleys were delayed by seconds, they still went off. At the end of just under nine minutes there were fifty-four hundred missiles traveling toward the Machine force at point nine five light, virtually untraceable.

  The battle cruisers moved, using just enough grabber power to get them out of the way, then maneuvering them to the end of the line of ships waiting their turn. The next twelve battlecruisers moved into place with some jostling, losing bits of outer hull in some instances. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed at a later time, and one minute after they started moving all were in place for the next volleys. Again, they went through the cycles, and again fifty-four hundred missiles were flying through space toward the machines. A third cycle, the same number of missiles, and the first dozen warships were in place again to begin the next firing.

  Henare hoped that the trouble they had gone to would pay off. The missiles were nigh invisible, not giving off gravitons until they neared the target and performed their final course corrections to hit. The main problem was the spacing. They would not come in as one mass, but more like a continuous stream. The Machines would be able to engage fewer missiles as they came in. He could only hope that they still got in a number of hits and weakened the enemy force.

  “The enemy is changing vectors,” called out one of the sensor tech, charged with monitoring the enemy to the exclusion of all else going on in the system.

  “Shit.” Henare wasn’t sure why they were doing that. Did they somehow detect the missile launch, or was it just that they had determined that the humans were sure to launch many of their missiles this way, even if they didn’t know the method they had worked out.

  “What is the change going to do to our targeting?” asked the admiral, clenching his fists as he took a deep breath.

  “Unknown at this time, sir,” said, Jackson, the tactical officer. “It all depends on how long they boost, and what their final vector will be. I estimate we will have to order the missiles to go into course corrections sometime before they get there. Say, from one to three hours.”

  “Shit,” Henare growled again. If they had to order the missiles to correct their courses they would be detected from distance, giving the Machines more time to set and react in defense.

  “Calculate the optimal firing solution for them based on your best prediction of their final position. Then get that information to the ships on the other side of the wormhole.”

  “It won’t be a firm prediction, sir. And I might suggest we come up with some defensive launches as well. We have a firm track on their missiles, and I doubt they’ll be able to change their vectors to any unpredictable courses.”

  “Go ahead,” agreed Henare, nodding. There were an awful lot of missiles heading their way, and the Machines were launching new volleys, putting a hundred thousand of their new, smaller weapons into space every couple of minutes. Maybe we should vector the attack missiles onto them, he thought.

  He dismissed that idea right away. At most he would get two enemy missiles with each of his, and that result was doubtful. They would be lucky if they got two for every three missiles they threw at machine weapons. And given a half an hour they could have counter missiles in the queue, with no more hit percentages than the offensive weapons, but a hell of a lot more of them.

  At least he could count on something the enemy couldn’t, an unlimited supply of missiles. There were the built-in delays of switching and reloading the tubes. Nothing to be done about that, but it meant if they could hold out, they could over time hit the enemy with more than they could possibly handle. If it had been the Cacas on the receiving end, the finish would probably come when even those stupidly courageous bastards realized they were going to die for no return. With the Machines that wasn’t a given. Of course they had no fear, but would they calculate a point where the return was not worth the loss, and back off? Or would any return against the life f
orms they were programmed to destroy be worth it?

  * * *

  The AI checked its calculations again. Not that it was surprised at what it was seeing. Surprise was impossible without emotions. It was not even disconcerted. It thought it had calculated the maximum throw weight of this enemy, based on what they had launched before. It had surmised that threatening the planet they were trying so hard to bring to life would bring a maximum response. And it had calculated that the humans had at most three of their wormholes, and it had a good take on how many launching tubes they could run through one, based again on past performance. Yet here were thousands more of their missiles, coming in a pattern that pointed to some different method than before. They had just adjusted their vectors to compensate for the Machine change of course, just as it had planned.

  Its own missiles were less than forty minutes from hitting the wormhole gate. Though there was no guarantee of success, it calculated that the odds were very much in its favor. One hit by a one gigaton warhead and the ring would be shattered at the point of impact, and the wormhole would die. They would not be able to reconstitute it, and it would be lost to them for weeks to months. By that time the AI was positive there would be no organic lifeforms in this system. Even a near miss of the gate could possibly disrupt it enough to blank out the wormhole. The humans had very good missile defenses, but nothing short of unnatural methods could guarantee that something wouldn’t get through from one of the launches the AI had sent out.

  Just in case, to improve the odds slightly, the AI ordered another launch, again all targeted on the wormhole gate. The humans were foolish to leave it out in the open like they had, but then again, it gave them a clear shot at their enemy. The AI thought it would have been a better strategy to hide it behind the huge asteroid and launch missiles that changed their vectors over time to get to the Machine fleet. It would have taken a little more time, and the Machines would have been able to detect the missiles much sooner, but the weapons would have been traveling just as fast on final approach, terminal velocity. There had to be a reason they weren’t doing that, but the AI couldn’t figure it out. It would still get all of its missiles off, no matter what the humans did.