William Keith Renegades Honor

by Renegade's Honor

  "Affirmative, Ops. Keep plotting them. If they're using captured ships, it might get hard telling theirs from ours."

  "It's not too bad yet, Captain. They're using a different transponder frequency. The tricky part is when signals overlap from close images."

  "Keep on it." Tension still edged MacCandless's voice, and tense men made mistakes. Kendric let humor soften his words, willing the man to relax. "I don't want to blow up the lolaire by mistake!"

  "Aye, Captain! We'll watch it!"

  Kendric couldn't help wondering what Commodore Severno was planning. Was he simply going to lead the squadron into the middle of

  the slug fest that was enveloping the rebel world? Or might he...

  Kendric leaned forward in his command chair. There was an opportunity there, revealed by the tactical display projected on the main viewer. He punched up the display on his own console and used a stylus and his console keyboard to make some rapid CAD sketches on the screen's image. It might work...

  He would have to consult with Navdep. "Navigation. This is the Captain."

  "Yessir! Ayres here."

  "I'm downloading an idea to your console, Commander. Have a look."

  "Got it, Captain."

  By manipulating the computer image on his own screen, he was able to unfold his idea on Commander Ayres's screen. "We'll need to decelerate about here...Use Trothas V to slingshot us out to here." Lines and curves swung across the screen as he moved his stylus. "What I want to do is plot a course that will take us on a hyperbolic behind Trothas's major moon out of sight of this orbital group...Got it?"

  "Yes, sir..." Ayres sounded doubtful.

  "Once we're here, on the far side of the moon from where the orbital group will be, we pile on the gees, swing onto this course.. .and drop into an orbit that will skim us across the surface of the moon, low, tight, and fast. If we plot it right, we'll come up from behind the orbiting squadron and intercept them...Oh, up here somewhere. With some luck, they won't see us coming. They certainly won't be expecting us if they think we followed a hyperbolic out into the yonder."

  "I'll run it through the computer, sir."

  "Do that. Then set up a solution series, so we can engage the program at any point during our initial approach. Got it?"

  "Let me run it through, Captain. I'll get back to you in a moment."

  It took several moments, but Ayres signaled Kendric with an updated computer schematic. "We can do it, Captain, anywhere up to a million klicks out from Trothas V at this speed. The series you asked for is set up, ready to run. Just give us the word."

  "Good. Right. We'll let it ride while I talk to the Commodore." He switched channels and called the Flag Bridge again.

  "What is the purpose of this...this excursion, Captain?" Severno asked after Kendric had transmitted the updated plan to the Flag Bridge screen.

  "Commodore, those orbital elements seem to be the heart of the rebel defense. There's a carrier there...probably the source of all of these fighters. The rebels are blocking everything we send in that direction. This approach lets us whip in close and fast, using Trothas V as a gravity sling, then drops us behind that moon on what they'll think is an escape trajectory. Once we're shielded by the moon, we change course and use the moon's gravity to whip us around, coming at them from below and behind. At worst, we catch them on real short notice. At best, they won't see us until we hit them."

  "They can hit us as we pass from the planet to the moon," Severno said. "They'll pick up our neutrino emissions behind the moon, or someone else will alert them that we're coming."

  "With respect, Commodore, by the time we get there, they're not going to be reading our neutrinos out of the background clutter, not with all these ships around. And I'm counting on them hitting us outbound from Trothas. That's what will convince them we're trying to duck away without engaging. As for being seen, having someone warn them..." He shrugged, though the gesture could not be transmitted on the audio circuit. "We hope things are so confused that none of them has a clear idea about what's going on. It's a gamble, but a small one."

  "I don't gamble, Captain, and I don't appreciate your offering to gamble my command. Your...plan is rejected. Maintain course, and prepare for deceleration in five minutes. We will slow to normal combat speeds and engage the enemy squadron at long range."

  Didn't the Commodore know that you had to take risks for the chance of winning an advantage in battle? "Sir..."

  But the commline from the Flag Bridge was broken.

  Kendric stared at his display for a moment more. The plan would work. He knew it. Why couldn't the Admiral see it? He shook his head, then blanked the screen. An engagement with those capital ships at long range and low speeds was bound to be a rough one, a trade of shot for shot, and blow for blow.

  He was not looking forward to that.

  Space combat is a long, drawn-out affair, usually involving hundreds of ships on a side, but spread across so huge a volume of space that encounters are relatively infrequent.

  Star ship combat crews tend to spend much of their time during a battle standing at their combat stations, waiting hours for those next few seconds of stark terror.

  —From 69th Century Combat: An Exploration of Starship Tactics, by Jason van derMeer, Starkadian House, Lupus Tertius II, 6810 A.I.

  The Gael Squadron decelerated—according to Commodore Severno's plan—and bore down on the heart of the rebel defenses. As more and more data became available from the melange of electronic signals, radar reflections, and scanner images, the Warrior's bridge crew could begin to make sense of the battle's shape, if not of its scope.

  There were, all told, perhaps 300 TOG Imperial capital ships in the system, gathered within a loose and ragged sphere some 150 million kilometers across, with Trothas V at the center. The Gael Squadron was already deep within the heart of that sphere, backing down at maximum thrust toward the planet and its triplet of moons.

  The composition and numbers of the rebel forces were impossible to pin down. Some two hundred ships had been identified on the plotting tanks of the Imperial ships so far, but those two hundred included everything from capital ships to freighters, tankers, and transports. Many of the latter were behaving like capital ships— maneuvering in formation and broadcasting radio commands that fictitiously identified them as warships—in order to confuse TOG scanners and planning.

  Worse, new rebel forces kept appearing on the scene. As the Gael Warrior and her battleship group approached the rebel world, they received a five-minute-old battle alert from Imperial warships in the vicinity of Trothas VI, a barren, nearly airless desert world currently 90 million kilometers from Trothas V. Three ancient, rust-streaked destroyers and an attendant cloud of fighters rose from a maze of fault-line canyons and craters on the sixth planet's surface, striking at the TOG fleet's rear. Two TOG corvettes and a frigate were overwhelmed and destroyed before the admirals closer to Trothas V even knew of the threat, thanks to the speed-of-light time lag that delayed reception of the Imperial ships' transmissions. A fierce, minor action raged far from the main combat for nearly two hours before the last rebel destroyer was run down and pounded into glowing scrap by gathering Imperial forces. Surviving rebel fighters scattered in small battle groups across the combat zone, striking and harrying TOG warships wherever they found them.

  Small Interceptor fighter groups were the Imperial Fleet's biggest problem. Rebel capital ships were easily tracked, and superior numbers of TOG squadrons could be assembled to pin and destroy them. Rebel fighters, however, were diffusing throughout the combat zone. At the velocities most of the ships were traveling, each fighter wave could make only a single pass at any one Imperial ship before hurtling out of range. They managed to score hits on each pass, however, and some of the TOG warships were wearing under the ferocity of the rebels' fighter defense.

  Hundreds of fighters occupied the battle zone now. Most had slowed and turned after their first, outbound pass and were now accelerating insystem onc
e more, alone or in small groups. Others drifted free, conserving fuel and power, waiting for a chance at a lone or damaged TOG vessel. Still more continued to rise from hidden bases on both Trothas V and VI, and from various moons and large asteroids throughout the system. Often it was hard to identify them as rebel fighters until they were quite close to a TOG capital ship. It was even harder when the enemy ships were various former TOG fighters that had been captured and pressed into service with the rebel fleet. With each passing minute, more hits were scored against the ships of the Imperial fleet.

  Vice Admiral Julian Dio Graffen, the TOG Fleet Commander, took a less than subtle approach to the situation. He ordered Imperial battlegroups to pound the hidden bases to rubble, even if it meant smashing the entire surface of each moon and world in the Trothas system, meter by meter, to do it.

  "New orders, Captain," Commodore Severno said over the channel from the Flag Bridge. "We are directed by Fleet Command to divert to Trothas V for a low attack run over the East Continent. Map coordinates are downloading to your navigation and weapons consoles. We are to bombard the indicated targets as we pass them at entry altitude. The squadron will make a single pass, then regroup to await further orders."

  "Aye, sir."

  "You will also prepare to launch fighters."

  Kendric stared at the image of the planet ahead for a moment. Had he heard right? "Sir...?"

  "All three flights. They will go in ahead of us, providing cover against rebel Interceptors."

  Kendric nearly protested. The orders were worse than unreasonable. They amounted to suicide for the battleship's fighter group.

  Attacking a planet was no job for fighters. It was bad enough sending a battleship in on a low, fast pass, a maneuver that made sense only if the battleship was solidly supported by other capital ships. The battleship would pass across its target at "entry altitude"—the upper fringes of the planet's atmosphere—and its heavy beams and missiles might be able to cause serious damage to the surface installation. The lighter, shorter-ranged weapons of a fighter made it virtually useless in such an attack.

  If the base shields were up, fighters would be able to penetrate them only by going in so close that they would have to take unreasonably high casualties. If the shields were knocked down by one of the capital ships, the fighters' firepower would be insignificant compared to what even one lone battleship could deliver. True, the fighters might help prov ide cover for the squadron against enemy fighter attacks during the approach, but the attack run would be over too quickly for their protection to be worth the losses they would suffer.

  To launch the Warrior's fighters in an attack against Trothas V was to throw them away for absolutely no significant tactical or strategic gain. It didn't make sense.

  Kendric chose his words with care. "Commodore. ..wouldn't it be advisable to hold the fighters until after our first pass? Or, at least, direct them against rebel ship targets clear of the planet? We—"

  "Damn it, Fraser!" The reply was an explosion of sound in Kendric's earpiece. "Are you going to question every order I give?

  When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.. .or don't you provincials understand that?"

  So.. .that was it, after all.

  "Sir, our fighters could be wiped out to a man."

  "Then they'll be wiped out! But, by Caesar, you will follow my orders, or I'll have you shot by the marines on the quarterdeck!"

  The circuit closed with an angry burst of static, leaving Kendric with his thoughts whirling. There seemed to be no way around the command. If Kendric refused the order, Severno would be perfectly within his rights to abort the attack, have Kendric shot, then personally order the fighters launched, and resume the attack. Nothing would change except that he, Kendric, would be dead, and a madman would be in command of his ship.

  The thought steadied Kendric. Madman? No, that was hyperbole. Severno was quite sane, hut might there be deeper purpose to his order? Suddenly he was remembering Elliot's warning about wolves.

  Kendric shook his head. The squadron was already redeploying for the attack on Trothas V, and little time remained. He gave orders to Navigation and to Helm, bringing the Gael Warrior into the squadron's lead, allowing the smaller ships to fall behind and to the flanks. With a twisting, inner pain, he opened an intership line to the Warrior's IFCO and ordered all fighters readied for immediate launch.

  Frank Jardine had trouble believing the orders, too.

  "You have got to be kidding!" Jaime's disgust at being forced to wait out the earlier fighter attacks while sitting in Beta Flight's fighter bay had been replaced by dawning horror at the new and unexpected orders. "Commander...are you telling us we're supposed to lead the bloody battleship to a mucking planet!"

  "That's affirmative." Haldane's voice was cool and dry, betraying neither horror or anger.

  "That figures," another voice broke in. "I always knew those battleship boys couldn't find their asses with both hands. Now we find out they can't find something as big as a planet..."

  "Cut the chatter," Haldane said. "Beta Flight is ready for a hot launch and will go first. Alpha and Gamma Flights will follow in tight formation."

  "There's been a screw-up somewhere," the other voice continued.

  "The order has been confirmed, through Commander Jardine from the Captain himself. Now stow it, and stand by for launch!"

  Jaime's Pilum rotated into place on its broad launch platform. He'd already run through his preflight endless times during the past two hours. Long since, the atmosphere had been pumped out of the flight bay, and the clamshell doors at the bay's forward end had rolled themselves back. Jaime could glimpse the white curve of the planet there, though the dull red lights in the bay were bright enough to dim any stars that might have appeared against the black and empty sky beyond.

  Commander Jardine's voice came over the tactical circuit. "Warrior Interceptor Group, stand by for immediate launch."

  He heard Haldane's voice over the channel. "Alpha Flight, ready for immediate launch."

  "Beta Flight, all squadrons ready for launch," Jaime added. He felt far from ready. Blood pounded in his ears, as sweat pooled uncomfortably under the folds of his pressure suit.

  "Gamma Flight, ready," another voice added. Jaime though it belonged to a man named Scott. He had not had a chance to meet the Gamma Flight Leader yet.

  "Flight deck clear," the voice of the launch supervisor added to the litany. "Switching all systems to independent fighter command. Power cables release."

  The power feeds linking each fighter with the Gael Warrior unhooked themselves and withdrew into the cradles that held the readied fighters. The flight bay deck was broad enough to launch four fighters at a time. Beta Flight's Interceptors would launch by pairs kicked forward in rapid succession until all twenty-four fighters were in space.

  Jaime and his wingman would be the first Gold Squadron ships to launch. The whine of his grav compressors keened higher. He opened the feed of liquid hydrogen into the I-K drive chambers. His console lights showed green and ready.

  "Forward shields are down," Jardine's voice said over the tactical frequency. "This is it, gentlemen! Good luck!"

  We'll need it. That old, pale excuse for a joke rose unbidden in Jaime's mind. What the bloody hell was the squadron's brass thinking of?

  "On my count," Jardine added. Around them, the electromagnetic fields that the battleship would use to hurl the fighters clear of the bay gathered, building. "Five...four...three...two...one...Launch!"

  A massive hand pressed Jaime back into his seat. Even with his grav and acceleration compensators full on, the transition from the battleship's internal gravity and compensator fields to the high acceleration of his Pilum could never be entirely balanced, and the surge of acceleration could not be completely canceled. Jaime estimated a field leak of 3 Gs on launch. Not enough to hurt, but more than enough to be felt.

  The magnetic sling whipped Jaime's and Davie Marshall's Pilums forward and out, virtually win
gtip to wingtip. Space exploded around Jaime, star-crusted blackness dominated by the silver planet ahead and the squat, blue-grey mountain of the battleship aft. He touched the control that brought his Pilum'% flicker shields on and up to cycle, closed his hand around the throttle, and squeezed the red trigger that engaged his three side-by-side engines. Making a quick scan of his instruments, Jaime saw that none of his weapons or other ship systems had failed during launch.

  The twenty-four Pilums of Beta Flight gathered in two groups, taking position some sixty kilometers ahead of the Gael Warrior. Within minutes, Alpha and Gamma Flights, with Pilums,, Lanceas, and aging Verutums arrayed in four squadrons to each flight, began forming aft and to port and starboard. Seventy-two fighters formed a huge arrowhead leading the battleship toward the planet.

  Jaime kept his eye on his'console display. The planet was less than 50,000 kilometers ahead now and filling the sky, a white and blue-marbled half-sphere, the white a blinding intensity at the poles. Lights glowed a warm, soft gold in scattered patches along the equator, east of the terminator on the planet's night side.

  Trothas looked silent and peaceful, but Jaime knew that wouldn't last long.

  TROTHAS (ISC 237-938-2892) Spectral Type: F5

  Mass: 1.75 Sol; luminosity, 5.4 Sol; diameter, 1.2 Sol Planetary System: 7 major bodies, two asteroid belts Planet V: Trothas; Mean orbital radius: 3.25 AU; period, 4.43 years.

  Mass: 2.592 x IO27 gm (.43 Terra) Equatorial Diameter: 9809 km. (.77 Terra) Density: 5.24 glcm3 (.95 Terra) Surface gravity: .73 G Satellites: 3

  Trothas V-c: Mean orbital radius, 250,876 km.; Mass; 6.22 x 1025 gm; equatorial diameter; 3487 km

  REMARKS: With a population of only 598,928,226 (6800 census), Trothas V would seem to be a sparsely populated world. Located at the outer edge of its star's habitable zone, Trothas is a world locked in glacier ice, save for a narrow band of arable, temperate land along the equator.