by Peter Grant
The corvette could do nothing more to help. She could only hang in space, all her missiles expended. Her crew waited on tenterhooks to see what would happen. It was up to the patrol craft now.
In the depot ship’s Operating Center, Cochrane watched in fascination as the attack unfolded in the Plot display. He sat forward in his chair, hands gripping the armrests so tightly they left deep indentations in their cushioning. Beside him, Hui did likewise. At the Command console, Dave Cousins snapped orders to the patrol craft over the now-activated circuits.
From out of the welter of thermonuclear explosions, eighteen missile traces arrowed toward them. The patrol craft did not bother to get under way to meet them. There was no time for that. Instead, they launched everything they had from their orbital positions; main battery missiles first, then defensive units. Seventeen of their aged, less reliable weapons malfunctioned. The remaining seventy-three missiles, all the weapons they had except for their laser cannon, streamed out toward their targets in a ragged volley.
The longer-ranged main battery missiles reached the incoming weapons first. Bomb-pumped lasers fired, but their cones had been designed to spread across the length and breadth of a spaceship. The gaps between their laser beams were too wide to be fully effective against the much smaller missiles. Despite this handicap, six of the incoming weapons exploded under their impact. The remaining twelve missiles bored in.
The defensive missiles reached them while they were still half a million kilometers from their targets. The interceptors carried thermonuclear blast warheads rather than lasers, designed to both kill nearby weapons and overload the sensors of those further from the explosion, so they could not home on their targets, or know when they had reached the most effective range to fire their laser cones. In a series of rolling fireballs, more of the incoming weapons were destroyed or blinded. The survivors streaked through the blast front. Two, their electronic brains scrambled, zoomed aimlessly past the ships to smash into the airless, desolate planet beyond them, diving into its surface at almost a quarter of the speed of light, digging deep craters, raising towering clouds of pulverized rock and dirt and dust. Two more swerved from side to side as their ruined sensors searched in vain for a target, then blew themselves up as their self-destruct mechanisms were automatically activated.
The last three incoming weapons closed in on their targets.
One missile selected HCS Amelia. Its bomb-pumped laser beams ripped into one of the depot ship’s forward holds, damaging and destroying many of the supplies stored there for use by the patrol craft; but there were no spacers in the compartment to be injured or killed, and no critical systems to be put out of action. The ship rocked under the impact, alarms clanging their cacophonous summons to the damage control team, but she was otherwise unharmed.
Another missile selected HCS Trairao as its prey. It zoomed in closer, but the patrol craft’s laser cannon were firing as fast as they could cycle. In the split-second before the missile triggered its warhead, a laser beam shattered its nosecone and penetrated right down its body. The shattered fragments of the missile erupted in all directions as they sped past, to collide with the planet like a giant pattern from a shotgun, raising plumes and spurts of dust and dirt over a wide area.
The last missile was just too fast for the defensive cannon fire. It slipped past all the beams tearing through space around it, rolled to align its bomb-pumped laser cone on its target, and exploded at a range of just nine thousand kilometers.
HCS Piranha, the most recently arrived patrol craft, still working up to full operational readiness, turned into a glowing, expanding cloud of radioactive particles as her fusion reactor let go under the impact of a laser beam. All thirty-one of her crew died with her.
There was an agonized, collective groan in the depot ship’s OpCen as they watched Piranha’s icon in the Plot display flare into the starburst signature of a nuclear explosion, then slowly shrink. Dead silence fell as they watched it fade away.
At last Cousins cleared his throat. There were tears in his eyes. Lieutenant-Commander Moffatt, his second-in-command on the Mycenae station, and until recently his Executive Officer aboard HCS Amelia, had been on board Piranha, supervising her working-up period prior to taking command of the entire patrol craft division.
“May… may God have mercy on Piranha’s crew. The rest of us… well, we’re still alive. Now we’ve got to clean up. Communications, signal to Amanita. Tell her ‘Well done’ from all of us. She’s to go after the second enemy ship. It appears to have no power, so the only way to track it is by its emergency beacon. She is to board, arrest any survivors, then use her tractor beam to tow the hulk back here.”
“Communications to Command, recorded, transmitting now, aye aye, sir.”
He looked at Cochrane and Hui. “Thank you both very much,” he said simply. “I couldn’t have figured out as good a plan on my own.”
“Neither could I,” Cochrane admitted. “It took all three of us.” He glanced at Hui. “Your suggestion for a stealthy missile launch, putting them in position to ambush the enemy, was the deciding factor. They might have spotted Amanita at that range, but the missiles on their own were too small a target. They were caught completely off guard.”
“Not completely,” she said sadly. “They were still good enough to get some of their weapons away. They hurt us, and killed Piranha.”
“Yes, but they might have killed a lot more of us. Let’s give thanks that they didn’t!”
“What now, sir?” Cousins asked.
“I want to examine that hulk. Let’s find out who they were, and what their ships were, and where they came from. We can learn a lot from the wreck. When we’ve finished with it, we’ll drop it into Mycenae Primus or Secundus, to be fuel for the star.”
“Please, wait until I can report back before you do!” Hui asked urgently. “I’m sure my superiors will want to send their own investigators to look at it.”
“All right,” Cochrane agreed, “but we’ll have to tow it to another planet in the system, so NOE doesn’t see it when their spacers arrive to take over. If it doesn’t emit any electromagnetic or gravitic signature, they won’t notice it. We’ll keep it out of sight in a parking orbit until your people get here. It’ll probably be best for them to travel aboard one of our ships, to avoid complications.”
“I think I can arrange that.”
“Very well.” Cochrane rose to his feet, forcing down a wave of sorrow for his dead people. “We’ve got a lot to do, including sending Amanita and three patrol craft back to Constanta to load fresh missile pods. The sooner we get a real depot ship out here to handle that, the better! Oh, Dave? Another thing. Don’t mention this fight to anybody, particularly not to NOE when they arrive to take over. Pass the word to all our people to treat it as top secret. I presume those ships were sent by the Albanians – at least, I don’t know any other enemy that might have that ability. If they can’t find out what happened, it might make them think twice before trying again, at least for a while.”
22
Girding Loins
PATOS
“We simply do not know, brothers.” Agim’s voice was hoarse with sorrow. “We are doing all in our power to find out, but we dare not send another ship into that system until we know what happened to our destroyers. In the absence of that information, the Patriarch’s fate is unknown. However, I fear he must be dead. It has been two full months since the attack was scheduled to go in. He would surely have contacted us by now, if that was possible, but we have heard nothing.”
“Then that means our ships must have died with him,” Perparim said softly.
“I fear so.”
“That can only have been through enemy action.”
“That is not the only possibility. What if they collided while on their approach to the system, or ran into some obstacle in space – an asteroid, or wreckage, or other debris? At space travel velocities, that would destroy them as surely and completely as a missile strike. I
admit, it is unlikely, but what is the likelihood that four outdated patrol craft, mounting in total fewer and shorter-range missiles than even one of our destroyers, could destroy both of our ships? I should have said any of those outcomes was so unrealistic as to be impossible – but here we are.”
“There has been no word in the news media of the planets concerned?” Skender asked.
“Not a word. The New Orkney Enterprise has trumpeted its entry into the Mycenae system, and taking over local security for its operations, but nothing was said about any recent combat. Eufala handed over four patrol craft and a depot ship, the same number of vessels they had before. NOE will now patrol its own operations, while Eufala will cover the rest of the system.”
“What will Eufala use for ships, if NOE has their patrol craft?” another asked.
“We do not know. The press release spoke of new vessels, but gave no details.”
“Could some of those new vessels be more capable? Did they, perhaps, fight our destroyers?”
“Again, we do not know. I fail to see how any spaceship’s sensors could detect incoming vessels that were first coasting, then braking under minimum drive power. Only a system surveillance satellite could do that at any meaningful distance. There is no record that Eufala or NOE has deployed anything of the kind, and we saw no sign of it during earlier visits. They are so expensive that I have to think it doubtful they could afford one.”
“So, what are we going to do?” Skender demanded. “Sit back and let them have the initiative?”
Agim met his glare full-on. “For the moment, they do have the initiative, in the Mycenae system at least. However, we shall not be idle. To do that would be to dishonor our Patriarch. If Eufala has killed him, we shall avenge him. Bear in mind, too, that if they learn we are behind many of their troubles in the Mycenae system, it is likely they will seek revenge on us, or at least try to dissuade us from interfering with them again. We shall need to defend ourselves, as well as attack them.”
He ticked off points on his fingers as he continued, “We dare not risk our remaining two destroyers until we know what befell their compatriots. We shall send more spies to Constanta, to see what ships show up there. If Eufala or Hawkwood obtain new vessels, they will surely visit that system in due course. We shall also see about attacking their leaders there, although they are bound to be on their guard against such attempts.
“We shall ensure that the Callanish consortium learns of Eufala’s involvement in the loss of their three vessels. If they seek revenge – which we shall discreetly encourage – we shall watch their efforts, see what Eufala does to protect themselves, and learn from that. We may even be able to use their efforts to disguise or mask our own attacks, so that they will be blamed for everything.
“Finally, it is likely that Eufala has, or soon will have, ships that are at least as capable as our own. We spent years refurbishing those old destroyers, and a few smaller craft, but they may no longer be adequate. I propose that we use as much as necessary of the funds accumulated for the Fatherhood Project, to buy modern warships.”
There was an instant uproar of protest. Voices clashed and climbed over each other as the delegates tried to make themselves heard. Agim waited a few moments, then raised his own voice in a bellow. “SILENCE, brothers! Let me finish!”
He waited for the hubbub to subside. “I know many of you think we should reserve the Project’s funds solely for its ultimate purpose. However, let me remind you that spending on our own defense is part and parcel of the Project. If we are threatened, so is the Project. If we are defeated, the Project will go down into the dust of history alongside us. Therefore, to spend money for our own defense is to spend it on the Project. The two are indivisible.”
Slowly, reluctantly, heads began to nod. One man raised a hand. “Where shall we obtain such ships, Agim? We have not been able to in the past.”
“You are right, Dardan, but that is because we put security above all other concerns. If we had made a major effort to obtain warships, violating interplanetary laws and regulations by doing so, we would have risked exposing ourselves. The Patriarch advised, and we all agreed, that the risk was too great. Now, I submit, the situation has changed. We risk more by not being well armed than we do by arming ourselves.”
Dardan scowled. “I agree, but where shall we look for them? How long will it take to get them? We cannot afford to delay, if Eufala offers that much of a threat.”
“That is true. Warships will be very hard to obtain, but we shall seek them. As an interim measure, let us buy fast freighters and equip them with modern weapons. You all know of the struggle of the Laredo Resistance, and how, with an ally’s help, they converted old fleet assault transports into very powerful armed merchant cruisers.”
There was a general murmur of understanding. The Laredo War had captured popular imagination throughout the galaxy, as its Resistance successfully fought back against the Bactrian invaders of their planet.
“We can follow their example while we look for warships. Modern weapons and fire control systems are strictly controlled, and hard to buy clandestinely, but they are much cheaper than warships, and we have gold enough to pay a premium for them. There are always those who will be greedy enough to put profit over principle.”
All around the table, heads nodded grimly.
“All those in favor, brothers?”
The vote was unanimous.
GOHEUNG
Kang Industries wanted to set up a major news conference in their auditorium to cover the delivery of four brand-new vessels to Hawkwood Corporation. Cochrane had to insist very firmly on the need for confidentiality before Mr. Kim reluctantly agreed to cancel the publicity arrangements.
A select group gathered in Kang’s boardroom. Cochrane himself was there, of course, along with Hui, who had arrived at Goheung from Qianjin that very morning. The newly-promoted Commander Darroch glowed with pride, still unaccustomed to the three stripes on his jacket sleeves, a promotion awarded in recognition of his success at what they were already calling, among themselves, the Battle of Mycenae. Commander Frank Haldane had brought the passage crews for the new ships aboard Orca. One of his core team, the also newly-promoted Commander Theo Bale, stood alongside him. Three newly minted Lieutenant-Commanders completed the Hawkwood delegation. Mr. Kim represented Kang Industries, flanked by the leaders of the design teams that had modified the ships to Hawkwood’s requirements, plus the lead engineers of the building ways that had constructed them.
After several remarks complimenting Hawkwood and Cochrane on their wisdom in choosing Kang Industries to build their ships, more on the quality of the vessels, and a few congratulations to those who had built them, Kim formally handed over the builder’s certificates for each ship. Cochrane accepted them on behalf of Hawkwood, and made several congratulatory remarks of his own, referring to the many vessels still to come off Kang’s ways for his company. Those listening applauded politely at the right moments.
The handover complete, Kim excused himself and his delegation, leaving the highlight of the day to Cochrane. He turned to the assembled officers.
“Lieutenant-Commander Aiton, you are appointed in command of the corvette HCS Banewort. Lieutenant-Commander Maclean, you are appointed in command of the corvette HCS Belladonna. Lieutenant-Commander Mahaddie, you are appointed in command of the communications vessel HCS Agni. Commander Bale, you are appointed in command of the depot ship HCS Anson. Finally, Commander Darroch, in addition to your present command of HCS Amanita, you are appointed as Officer in Command of Hawkwood Corporation’s First Corvette Division, comprising all three ships of that class currently on our books. I congratulate all of you, and wish you the very best of success in your future endeavors.”
Everyone shared congratulations and handshakes. Frank broke out a magnum of champagne he’d smuggled past Kang’s security guards, popped the cork, and poured it into disposable cups. They ignored the less-than-formal drinking vessels as they toasted the ne
w commanding officers.
Hui moved to Cochrane’s side as the others chatted among themselves. She pressed her arm lightly against his before assuming a more suitably formal distance. “Where did you get the names for the communications and depot ships?”
“We’re naming communications vessels for ancient mythological messenger gods, or messengers of the gods. Our depot ships will be named for famous admirals. All the names come from the history of Earth, of course.”
“What about the patrol craft hulk you were converting for point defense? I thought she was going to be delivered today, too?”
“She is. She’ll be loaded aboard Orca, for delivery to Humpback in Constanta. Grigorescu’s shipyard will adapt one of her holds to accommodate her. Frank brought the other two hulks with him, to be converted in their turn.”
“What will you call her?”
“We won’t name her. After all, the three of them won’t operate as independent warships, but as local tenders to large freighters like Humpback.”
“I can understand that. You’re only going to have three of them?”
“At present, that’s the plan; but our encounter in Mycenae started me thinking. Our point defense was stretched to the limit. If we hadn’t had three patrol craft on hand, things might’ve gone much worse for us. It’d be good if we could strengthen the point defense capability of all our cargo vessels and depot ships, not just the very large freighters. If you think about it, a cargo shuttle can carry up to ten thousand tons. That’s more than the mass of those old patrol craft. I’m wondering whether cargo shuttles might be converted to carry defensive missiles, too. They don’t have very powerful reactors, of course, and they have no fire control systems at all. They’d have to be simple missile trucks, with all the guidance and control provided by their parent ship; and they’d need auxiliary reactors to fire up the missiles, and provide power to mass drivers to launch them. Dave Cousins and I are knocking the idea around. If we can figure out something, we’ll build a prototype and see if we can make it work.”
