The Desert of Stars (The Human Reach)

by John Lumpkin

  At Admiral Cooper’s command, every ship in the fleet wheeled to face nearly opposite its direction of travel. The Russian ships, five of which mounted spinal cannon, could now prove their worth, although Neil couldn’t help but look askance at the destroyers Delfin and Karakatitsa, both half-sisters of the Chinese spy ship San Jacinto had battled over Commonwealth two years prior.

  The smaller American ships fired first, their turrets emitting a salvo of 23-kilogram shells into the darkness. The spinal mounts on the Diaz, Texas, and Maryland opened up next, followed by those on the Russian ships, and their shells descended to the enemy fleet’s altitude.

  Rocks down a well, Neil thought. This isn’t a battle so much as a bombardment.

  The Chinese ships launched hundreds of missiles in reply, but they had a long climb ahead of them. Waste of resources. They won’t have any maneuver fuel once they get close, and we can dodge any we can’t pick off.

  ‘Round the planet the cloud of American and Russian shells went, all growing closer together and approaching the Chinese fleet, which had bunched together to allow its members to defend one another. Now China’s reasons for increasing the fleet’s altitude over Kuan Yin became clear: They could see much further over the planet’s horizon, and could thus engage the inbound shells at greater distance.

  Defensive lasers reached out for the shells, exploding the first hundreds of kilometers away. Antimissiles targeted any leakers, but it was largely a battle of whether the American and Russian mass drivers could overcome the Chinese fleet’s laser engines and capacitors …

  … and the advantage was with the allies. Chinese defenses were destroying shells at ever-decreasing ranges …

  … and then a frigate captain snapped. Her computers told her she had to move or take a hit, and she thrust at a full gee to dodge an incoming shell. The maneuver worked, but the fleet’s interlaced defenses had a sudden hole, and more shells were going to get through.

  “Every ship in the fleet has lit its torch,” said Apache‘s sensor operator, his voice excited. “Got a few dodging, but it looks like they’re breaking orbit, heading for their keyhole.”

  Cheers resounded around Apache’s CIC. The enemy was fleeing without putting up much of a fight! Now they just had to take care of those incoming missiles …

  “Wait, one, sir – ” Neil said, but he was cut off by the collision warning sounding. He was thrown painfully against his chair straps, and a petty officer fell and struck the floor, hard. She cursed and picked herself up.

  “What the hell, Propes?” Captain Howell shouted.

  “Sir, the computer took control from me and executed an emergency turn and thrust,” Ensign Cohen, the propulsion officer, said. “I don’t know why! Says we almost hit another ship, but the Maryland is almost thirty klicks away.”

  Neil raced through sensor reports on his console. “Confirm, there’s nothing outside. All the other American ships in the fleet are maneuvering, sir – it looks random!”

  “Get me the flag!” Howell shouted.

  “External comms are down, sir,” an astronaut responded.

  Cohen added, “The computer’s not giving me back control, sir. I don’t understand it.”

  “Some of my point defense batteries just went offline, and I’ve got a yellow on two of the counterbattery turrets,” Jessica said. “Did our warranty just expire?”

  Howell grimaced. “People, explain this.”

  Neil chased a flashing light on his console. “Just before the thrust, we picked up a hefty EM pulse from the direction of the planet.”

  That sent Cohen scanning through her logs. “That’s it! The collision warning … it was the Eagle! She told us it was about to crash into us. The computer ignored the sensor data and reacted.”

  “And it looks like they got a virus into our systems,” the systems officer said. “I’m after it.”

  We update the handshake codes constantly, so the Hans can’t get anything through our receivers during normal communications, Neil thought. But the anti-collision systems are a safety system and run separately in case the main network goes down, and we make it easy for our ships to warn each other off. I guess they figured out how to trip that system from Eagle. And they bollixed every American ship in the fleet.

  The incoming missiles were eight minutes away.

  USS Javier Benavidez y Diaz

  Komarov had managed to obtain Donovan a seat in the battlecruiser’s large CIC, arguing he was more helpful with the ship’s systems than the enlisted shepherds Captain Matthews had provided.

  The command center was now in a quiet sort of chaos, with officers and enlisted personnel exchanging information and orders in harsh, frustrated whispers. Admiral Cooper floated behind a 22-year-old systems tech third class, who was working desperately to figure out how the virus kept re-infecting the point-defense laser energy management software the moment she reinstalled it.

  “A front-row seat at the circus, eh, Mister Calvin?” Komarov said to him cheerfully. “Don’t worry. Your Space Force may not build ships that work, but I assure you that the Russian fleet will defend this ship to the last.”

  “Why is that, Sergei?”

  “Because I’m on board, and while no one ever seems to acknowledge it, I’m far too important and attractive to die!”

  Outside, the Russian ships maneuvered to interpose themselves between the American vessels and the incoming missiles. On various external camera views, Donovan saw antimissiles arcing away from some of the destroyers and light frigates; apparently, they had not been as badly affected by the computer attack as the rest of the fleet. Along with the Diaz, it appeared the old cruisers Texas and Maryland had been hit worst of all; they were adrift, not even able to participate in the rapid-fire exchange of communication via running lights that the rest of the ships had started up.

  Admiral Cooper slammed her fist into the table beside the systems tech, startling him. “Send a runner down to the flight deck and tell them to start prepping the jumpers. If we can’t get comms back, I’ll send my orders by hand.”

  USS Valley Forge

  A distant spark, and Valley Forge’s fire control officer shouted, “Got one!” Her antimissile had blasted one of the nearest Chinese inbounds.

  Other antimissiles struck their targets, and the Chinese barrage withered. More than two-thirds of them burst into unguided flechettes – well before they normally would, but they had several immobile targets in their sights.

  Nukes. There are nukes within the rest, Erin Quintana knew. They’ll be concealed within the cloud of regular missiles, which are decoys for our defenses.

  She drummed her fingers on her console. The autoloaders in Valley Forge’s main guns were in the clutches of the virus, but she still had control of the secondary batteries, which were little more than machine guns – and usually about as useful in fights that ranged over thousands of kilometers. But with the lasers offline, they were the destroyer’s last line of defense.

  All this technology, and we’re reduced to throwing our rocks at their rocks, she thought.

  The Russian ships, blissfully unaffected by the electronic attack, threw everything they had at the incoming weapons. Lasers melted flechettes; antimissiles slammed into missiles.

  But it wasn’t enough. The first flechettes speared into silent Maryland and Texas, and a fifty-kiloton nuke went off less than twenty meters from the destroyer Concord, incinerating her and all 145 people on board. The blast also wrecked the main laser on the nearby Shenandoah, putting her out of action. Chicago took a dozen flechettes in her fusion candle, just as more darts struck Diaz, cutting into the flight deck and killing the assembled jumper crews. New Orleans lost a heat sink, and Lansing had two remass tanks vented to space. San Francisco, Olympic and several Russian ships suffered minor damage, and the Chinese attack was spent.

  We’d all be dead if it had been a close engagement, Erin thought. The missiles had been programmed to target the bigger ships, so Valley Forge and most of th
e other smaller craft came through unscathed.

  Slowly, systems officers in the fleet began beating back the disease within their computers. When a particular solution was found, systems techs rode jumpers to other ships to install the fixes there, although they steered clear of wounded Chicago, whose candle was emitting nasty bursts of radiation that jumper shielding could not deflect. And for the Diaz, whose mangled flight deck could not accept a jumper, astronauts were forced to board by EVAing into an airlock, datachips in hand.

  Twelve hours later, the Chinese fleet had climbed to the halfway mark to their wormhole, an altitude well above the wounded allies. It hadn’t altered course to attack – perhaps, Erin thought, the enemy was unsure how badly damaged the American fleet was. But if they do know …

  USS Apache

  The announcement that propulsion was working drew ragged applause from the CIC. Neil did not participate; he was focused on the distant Chinese ships on his screen, hoping to see the telltale signs of turnover. Their final threat had been briefed as low probability, given the assumption that the allies could quickly counter it with a superior force, but now …

  That’s it. They aren’t flipping to decelerate to the keyhole, and they aren’t coming after us. That leaves one other worthwhile target.

  “Captain Howell, we’ve got a major problem, sir,” he said.

  Howell flipped himself on a handhold and pushed himself toward Neil’s console.

  “What now, Mercer? Bad enough day already.”

  “Sir, the Chinese fleet isn’t slowing down. They’re not going to the wormhole. They’re going to do a flyby on the Long Nu moon and go after our transports. We have to leave, right now, if we’re going to intercept with any remass left to fight.”

  Neil could see the anger and fear wash over Howell. The captain put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it backward.

  “My god … fifty thousand … only two frigates to defend them … but no orders,” he muttered to himself.

  “Sir?” Neil said.

  Howell ignored him. “Comms, can we talk to the flag?” Other ships had seen the Chinese fail to turn over and were sending similar messages. Lights blinked back and forth, and after a slow, ten-minute exchange, the reply came back.

  Go.

  The transports were a day’s travel away.

  USS Javier Benavidez y Diaz

  “Leaving? You’re leaving, Sergei?”

  “Mister Calvin, I am in no mood to put on a spacesuit, so I am staying here,” Komarov said. “But I’m afraid Admiral Volodin is quite concerned about your forces’ capabilities, and he feels obligated to protect Russia’s soldiers. So he will be unable to commit any of our combat-capable ships to defending your transports. He does wish you luck.”

  Soon, the Russian warships thrust away from the crippled American ships, off to meet their transports, which were breaking off from the much larger American herd.

  I suppose we know the limits of the alliance, Donovan thought. He could understand their reasoning, but the dissolution of the joint fleet galled him. At least they stuck by us when the missiles came in.

  USS Apache

  The five Kiowa-class escort frigates in the fleet – Apache, Iroquois, Comanche, Chinook and Kiowa herself – were the first to depart, as they had had the easiest time clearing their systems of the virus.

  Other American ships mastered the virus and thrust as well, creating a long, ragged train charging to interpose themselves between the Chinese fleet and the transport herd. When she at last decided Diaz would not be fixed in time to take part in the defense, Admiral Cooper transferred her flag to the light cruiser San Francisco, which launched as soon as she was aboard. Sprague and Ramage, the heavy frigates left to defend the transports, also broke from the herd to meet up with the others.

  A sense of shock settled over the American ships. How did we get outmaneuvered like this? Veterans of the prior defeats in 11 Leonis Minoris wondered if fate had somehow decreed that this star system was not meant for America. Three light cruisers, three destroyers and eight frigates versus eight cruisers and nine smaller ships. How do we win that? But they had to. While the loss of the warships in this system would be terrible, the destruction of the transports and the troops aboard would be beyond the pale: tens of thousands of American dead, worse than Antietam or Argonne. More likely the transports would have to surrender, and, if the Chinese were merciful, the soldiers would ride out the war in a camp. Not that the war would last long, with our ability to land troops off Earth almost entirely destroyed. The one-star admiral in charge of the transports had ordered them to stay together, but if the Chinese fleet got too close, they would scatter.

  The Chinese fleet rounded Long Nu, gaining little speed but getting a remass-free change in heading thanks to the gravity well of the big moon. Cooper and Admiral Kong were playing a game of chicken, of sorts, daring each other to burn more remass to arrive at the transports sooner. Burn too much, of course, and the ships would not have enough left for a maneuvering fight. Burn too little, however, and the American defenders would have more time to bring Diaz and the other cruisers into the fight.

  Neil and Jessica found a little time to spend together – nothing intimate, just a late night meal alone before they both would attempt to sleep. Neil chattered about the counterlasers Jessica would face on the Langfang-class light cruisers in the Chinese fleet, and she just held his hand.

  He shut up after a while.

  Although San Francisco had caught up to the other ships, Admiral Cooper’s stern contralto came through tinny over their speakers, making her seem far more distant than she was.

  “The nature of our service is not one where I am able to speak to you in person, so this transmission will have to suffice. The enemy has divided our fleet, and it falls to us to prevent them from defeating us in detail. We will draw a line they cannot cross. As you fight and as you fear, think of your sisters and brothers fighting beside you. Think of your sisters and brothers on the transport fleet. And think of your sisters and brothers in Sequoia, waiting for us to free them. We fight for all of them. Cooper out.”

  “Kong just blinked,” Neil told Captain Howell.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Chinese admiral – his ships have just increased their deceleration. He intends to slow to engage us. We’ve shown him we can interpose our ships between his fleet and the transports, and while we’re an inferior force, he can’t afford to ignore us, because if he tried to blow by us at his current velocity, we’d be able to take part in a mutually suicidal exchange of kinetics. We’d all die, but we’d save our troopships, and he’d lose his fleet and any ability to defend Kuan Yin. So he’s got to burn even more remass to slow to a safe engagement speed.”

  “Great. Now all we have to do is beat a force with nearly twice our firepower.”

  “We do have some advantages, sir, and it’s important to remember they are improvising as much as we are. They had no way to know their attack on our systems would be as successful as it was. They fired all of their offensive missiles and used up a bunch of their defensive ones, and they don’t have any spinal mounts on their ships. They’ve burned a lot of their remass to get here; they don’t have any tanker support, and our transport herd can eventually outrun them.”

  Jessica said, “So it’s lasers and short-range kinetics, and they’ll want to conserve remass. They’ve got the advantage in numbers, so they’ll try to mob our ships for the flank laser shots. How do we take advantage of that?”

  Her boss, Ortega, snorted. “Maybe that prewar doctrine of standoff missile attack will finally be the right call.”

  Howell nodded. As combat approached, his irate persona was retreating again. “Mercer, you care to share our observations with the flag?”

  Neil shook his head. “Sir, I can send them in, but Admiral Cooper’s S-2 has made it clear he doesn’t really care what the intel officers in the fleet have to say.”

  Howell grunted. “Typical. Well, I can tr
y to talk to the flag captain when I get a chance.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Neil said. We haven’t figured their entire strategy out, yet, but I can’t think of any better alternatives.

  The Chinese had apparently learned their lesson from the earlier defeat of their two beam cruisers. The damage to their optics now repaired, they broke off from the main body of their fleet, each with two frigates in attendance, and headed in separate directions, turning again toward the American ships when they were each bearing 45 degrees off the main axis between the two fleets. The Deng Shichang was above the plane of the system, and the Zhou Man was off to one side.

  We’ll have to go after those, or they’ll tear us apart, Neil knew. They have the initiative, and we’re being railroaded into responding on their terms.

  Just as the Chinese fleet underwent turnover to meet the Americans, Admiral Cooper ordered the frigates Sprague and Chinook after the Shichang and her escorts, while Ramage and Apache were sent after the Zhou Man. They didn’t have to kill the enemy, just keep the beam cruisers from being able to fire into the main American fleet.

  The main bodies surged toward one another and closed to three thousand kilometers distance.

  The Chinese ships are spread a lot thinner than I would expect … it will be difficult for them to cover each other with their point defenses. Are they trying to get in position for flanking shots? They dispersed much earlier than they had to.

  “Signal from the flag, all ships in main body, missiles free,” said Apache’s comm officer. “Admiral says empty the magazines.”

  We’re launching too soon, Neil’s gut told him. Why do I think that? That’s it! They don’t want to defeat us in detail. They’re going to try to slip some ships by us to hit the transports. We should conserve some of the missiles to chase down any leakers who are going for the herd. He sent his analysis to Captain Fordham, Admiral Cooper’s intelligence officer on the San Francisco. He also told Captain Howell.