“But they’re smaller, faster, and more maneuverable,” Rione insisted.
“Smaller, yes,” Geary replied. “Faster and more maneuverable, no. Whoever came up with this plan must be primarily a planetary defense officer, who thought because FACs look sort of like atmospheric craft compared to space warships, that the physics would work the same as aircraft versus seagoing ships on planets with atmospheres and oceans. But those FACs aren’t operating in a much-less-dense medium than our ships, they’re operating in exactly the same medium, so it’s all about mass-to-thrust ratios. The FACs are small, but that means they’ve got small propulsion systems and small power plants. They’re certainly more maneuverable than battleships, but our destroyers have bigger propulsion units and better mass-to-thrust ratios.” On his display, the FACs had finished scrambling from the merchant ships and were accelerating toward the Alliance fleet.
Desjani shook her head, looking disgusted. “Any of those small craft that somehow survived this attack could never get home. They don’t have the fuel or life-support endurance. I hope the Syndic commander responsible for this is on one of those merchants.”
“He or she is probably a dozen light-years away,” Geary said. “How stealthy are these FACs?”
“Some capability, but they’re out here in the middle of nowhere, accelerating, and we watched them launched. The combat systems will have no trouble tracking them even after they—And there they went. Stealth systems on the FACs have gone active, and we’ve still got solid tracks on all of them.”
“Okay.” Geary spent a few more seconds watching the horde of FACs heading to intercept the Alliance fleet, then scrolled through some of the formations he had worked out before this and loaded into the maneuvering systems. After checking to confirm the time required for a message to reach the most distant unit in the current Alliance formation, he tapped his comm controls. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is—” He’d almost said Captain Geary, but caught himself. “Admiral Geary. Execute Formation November at time four seven.”
Desjani glanced at him, pulled up the formation on her own display, then nodded. “It will do. But you should slow the formation a little to ensure as many kills on the FACs as possible.”
“Thanks. Do you think point zero eight light speed will be slow enough?”
After repeating the question to her combat-systems watch-stander and waiting for a swift answer, Desjani nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
Rione spoke with resignation. “If they’re doomed, do we have to destroy them and risk casualties of our own?”
“Yes,” Geary replied. “We can’t swing far enough to one side to evade missiles fired by that mass of FACs, which means the units on that flank would run risks of being hit by missiles on high-deflection run-ins, which are a lot harder to hit with defensive fire than low-deflection runs. I’d be particularly worried about some of the missiles targeting the auxiliaries as we went past the FACs.”
At time four seven, the current Alliance formation dissolved, the squadrons and divisions of warships proceeding to new stations relative to Dauntless. Geary waited until the fleet had formed into five rectangles, the broad sides facing in the directions of the fleet’s movement, the largest rectangle in the center, the four smaller rectangles only a short distance off each corner of the large one. To Geary’s aggravation, two of the new battle cruisers, one of the new battleships, and several smaller combatants ended up pushing far forward of their assigned stations. “Adroit, Assert, Insistent, Dungeon, Pavise, Demicontres, Halda, Tschekan, assume your ordered stations immediately.”
Unlike at Corvus and engagements soon after that, the bulk of the fleet held formation firmly, acting as a powerful example reinforcing Geary’s commands. Leaving only one eye to watch the errant warships, Geary put most of his attention on the movements of the fleet and the oncoming mass of FACs, which seemed to fill space ahead of the fleet. “All units in the Alliance fleet, brake velocity to point zero eight light speed at time zero nine, then brake to point zero four at time one two, then accelerate to point zero six light speed at time one five.”
“None of our ships can actually change velocity that fast,” Desjani noted.
“I know. But this will keep their velocity changing so much just prior to contact that the FACs’ targeting systems will be screwed up trying to estimate the time to fire their hell lances and grapeshot. I wouldn’t try it against other major warships because our formations are going to get disrupted by that many velocity changes on top of each other, but against the FACs, this tactic is supposed to work.” At least, that was what the official guidance against SRACs had said a century ago.
One more command to pass. “All units in the Alliance fleet, turn up zero three five degrees at time two four.” That would bring the fleet through the mob of FACs, then turn it upward to pass well above the merchant shipping.
“We’ll miss the merchants,” Desjani complained, then she gave him a knowing glance. “They’re too attractive. Too easy a target. They’re not trying to run even though they’ve finished launching the small craft.”
“Right. Are they just easy targets, or are they bait?” Geary shook his head. “I don’t trust anything about those merchant ships.”
The fleet began its braking maneuver, thrusters pushing the bows of the warships up and over so that their main propulsion units faced forward, followed by the propulsion units kicking in to slow the ships as fast as momentum, the power of the propulsion units, and the ships’ inertial dampers would allow. After the two braking maneuvers, and just prior to contact with the FACs, the warships would pivot again to reaccelerate, swinging their bows forward once more to meet the Syndic attack with their heaviest armor and firepower.
“Still coming straight at us,” Desjani commented.
Something about her casual, confident tone worried Geary. He tapped his controls again. “All units in the Alliance fleet, these FACs have only one punch, but that can be a powerful punch. Don’t underestimate them until they’ve been killed. All units conduct on-station evasive maneuvers immediately prior to contact with the FACs.” On-station told his ships not to veer too far from their assigned positions but allowed them to make the small changes in vectors that could further throw off attempts by the enemy fire-control systems to predict their future positions well enough to score hits during the fraction-of-a-second-long engagement envelopes.
More alerts sounded as the first FACs began firing missiles. Only one missile per FAC, and only perhaps half of the FACs carrying missiles, but that added up quickly when there were that many small craft coming at the fleet. “All ships, weapons free. Engage the missiles, then the fast attack craft.”
At short range, with the opposing forces closing swiftly, there wasn’t time for the enemy missiles to engage in their own evasive actions. Hell lances blazed from the Alliance warships, filling space with directed high-energy particle beams, which at close range punched through armor as if it were paper. Syndic missiles exploded prematurely or came apart under the hail of fire, then the surviving missiles began running into patterns of grapeshot. The clusters of metal ball bearings tore into oncoming missiles, each metal ball that struck a target vaporizing from the force of the impact. Struck by the shotgun blasts of massed grapeshot batteries, the remainder of the enemy missiles were blown apart as the Alliance fleet rushed into contact with the fast attack craft.
The sheer numbers of the attack craft could have made up for their frail defenses and limited armament, concentrating their individually weak firepower to hit larger ships again and again, but not under these conditions, not when facing a fleet of larger warships in formations in which the already greatly superior firepower of the warships overlapped and reinforced each other. FACs were supposed to engage small numbers of isolated warships, ideally one or two. Given the right conditions, near a planet or other base where the small craft could linger stealthily and silently while awaiting the approach of the enemy, enough FACs could even take down a battleshi
p operating on its own, though probably while suffering serious losses as well.
These weren’t the right conditions.
Alliance destroyers were in their element against this kind of enemy, rampaging through the smaller, weaker FACs like hawks among a flock of sparrows, hell lances stabbing out as fast as they could fire to smash through the flimsy protection of the much smaller spacecraft. Light cruisers moved almost as nimbly among the destroyers, their heavier armaments taking out several small attack craft with each volley. Coming right behind the lighter escorts were the heavy cruisers, not so fast and maneuverable, but better protected and far outgunning the FACs. Against the Alliance warships, the FACs tried to focus their fire on single ships enough to overcome shields and armor, but with so many targets coming so fast, not enough hits could be scored on any one ship in time to make a difference.
The Alliance fleet formation merged with the swarm of fast attack craft at a combined velocity of almost point zero five light speed, the cloud of FACs evaporating as it merged with the warships like a flock of gnats running head-on into a massive land vehicle. Syndic small attack craft blew apart or spun away uncontrolled, with dead systems and crew. Due to sheer numbers, some of the small craft penetrated past the Alliance escorts, only to be instantly torn to pieces by the firepower of the battleships and battle cruisers.
The moment of contact and destruction of the horde of FACs happened almost too quickly for it to register on human senses, then the Alliance fleet was through the enemy and following Geary’s command to turn sharply upward, “up” being defined by humans as the direction above the plane of the star system, just as “down” was beneath the plane of the star system. Geary studied his fleet status display anxiously, aware that collisions with FACs or a lucky barrage of hits could have done significant damage to or even destroyed one of his escorts. The status reports were still updating, showing weakened shields and occasional hits on destroyers or light cruisers, when something else caught his attention. “Dungeon, return to formation immediately! Alter your track to avoid those merchant ships!”
Unlike the rest of the fleet, the lone heavy cruiser had continued onward instead of altering her course upward, and was now heading straight into the mass of Syndic merchant ships waiting silently along the path the fleet would have taken. Geary waited as seconds passed, having flashbacks to the senseless loss of a cruiser and three destroyers to a minefield at Sutrah.
Dungeon’s reply finally came, her captain sounding baffled. “We’re going to let these Syndic ships escape?”
“It’s a trap!” Geary called back immediately. “Use your head! They’re not trying to run, and there are no escape pods leaving those merchants! They had no crews embarked, just the pilots of those FACs, and they’re probably rigged as booby traps. Get your ship clear now!”
Seconds later, Dungeon finally began pulling up, her course vectors altering oh-so-slowly toward the rest of the fleet, while momentum still carried her closer to the merchants.
Desjani was watching the heavy cruiser’s progress silently, her face an emotionless mask, doubtless also remembering Sutrah.
“Ten seconds to closest-point-of-approach for Dungeon to the nearest merchant ships,” the operations watch reported.
“They’re lighting off their propulsion systems,” Desjani said an instant later. The merchants’ propulsion systems had kicked in, thrusters pushing the clumsy vessels up, aiming to try to intercept the Alliance fleet, which would pass over them. “They all lit off at about the same time. It must be automated controls with all the merchant ships slaved together. No bunch of civilians could have managed that coordinated an action.”
“Even if a bunch of civilians were willing to charge at this fleet,” Geary agreed, his eyes on the seconds counting down for Dungeon to clear the merchant ships.
Given the light-seconds separating the rest of the fleet from Dungeon and the merchant ships, they saw the explosions three seconds after they’d taken place. “The two merchant ships closest to Dungeon’s track have suffered core overloads,” the operations watch reported. “Assess that Dungeon will be within the outer limits of the danger area and may sustain damage.”
“They thought they could use your own trick against you?” Desjani complained.
“Maybe they thought someone else might be in command, or else that Admiral Geary had grown complacent,” Rione replied.
Whatever the reason, the Syndics had modified the improvised ship minefield Geary had used at Lakota. “That’s not a bad idea,” he commented, “putting their ships under automated controls to close on their targets if the targets aren’t coming to them. We need to keep an eye out for that kind of tactic happening again.”
“Even the Syndics wouldn’t throw away functioning warships that way,” Desjani said. “But from now on, I am going to be inclined to shoot first if any merchant ship tries to get close.” She frowned at her display. “Lieutenant Yuon,” Desjani called to one of the watch-standers, “those Syndic core overloads seemed much more powerful than they should have been. Find out how much the Syndics have boosted the power of those explosions and get an estimate of how they did it.” She gave Geary a warning look. “If we get within hell-lance range, we might be close enough for those things to damage some of our ships.”
“Concur. Let’s not take chances.” He had developed a hesitation to use specter missiles as the fleet’s supply dwindled during the long retreat home, but the fleet’s missile magazines had been topped off at Varandal, and missiles were clearly what was called for here. Still, merchants only had shields good enough to block radiation, no armor, no defenses, and these merchant ships were lumbering along easily predictable, smooth vectors aimed at trying to intercept the Alliance warships. It was the work of a couple of seconds to ask the fleet combat systems to assign one missile each from enough warships to engage each merchant ship with the single specter, which would be all that was needed to destroy it. But before Geary could tap the execute command, a delighted laugh from Desjani drew his attention.
“The Syndics packed the formation too tight,” she explained. “It would have been more effective if we’d run straight into them, but as it is …” Desjani laughed again and waved at her display.
The two merchant ships that had destroyed themselves with core overloads had been close enough to some of the other merchant ships for the blast effects to trigger core overloads in the other ships as well. As those merchant ships blew, they took out more of their neighbors, whose own core overloads set off even more destruction in the ships close to them.
An expanding wave of destruction was unfurling through the mass of Syndic merchant ships as the Syndic minefield obliterated itself in a flurry of fratricide. “I guess we can save our missiles,” Geary commented, then his satisfaction at watching the self-elimination of the Syndic booby trap vanished as Dungeon staggered out of the edges of the zone of destruction created by the core overloads of the first two Syndic merchant ships. Geary bit back a curse as he saw automated damage status reports coming in from Dungeon. By the time Dungeon had become aware of the explosions, it was too late to react, and the heavy cruiser had taken the brunt of the blasts on one side of her stern. Geary hit his comm controls harder than he had to. “Dungeon, I need a full damage report and estimated time of repair to your damaged propulsion units as soon as possible.” Switching circuits, he made a call to Tanuki.
Captain Smyth, who at Varandal had assumed command of the auxiliaries division from a visibly relieved Captain Tyrosian, answered several seconds later. “Yes, Admiral?”
“I need your assessment and repair estimate for the damage to Dungeon,” Geary explained. “Initial reports indicate the damage to most of her propulsion units is too severe for Dungeon to fix herself. If that’s the case, I want to know how long it would take to get enough of her propulsion units back online so she can keep up with the fleet.”
“Certainly,” Captain Smyth answered cheerily. “I’ll get back to you.”
&
nbsp; “Casual attitude, even for an engineer,” Desjani commented.
“True,” Geary agreed. “But he seems ready and willing to follow orders. Tyrosian did an okay job as division commander, but she never enjoyed it and seemed overwhelmed at times.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Captain?” Lieutenant Yuon reported. “The core overloads were about fifty percent stronger than merchant-ship core overloads should have generated. Analysis indicates the Syndics packed the merchant cargo containers with explosives and accelerants of various kinds.”
“They wanted to get us while we thought we were outside the danger area,” Desjani commented. “That won’t be a problem now.” She smiled as the Syndic merchant ships at the far edges of the improvised minefield blew themselves apart as the wave of destruction reached them, leaving only an expanding field of debris where the large group of merchant ships had once been. “Lovely, isn’t it? The only thing better than blowing away Syndic warships is watching Syndic ships blowing away each other.”
Geary just smiled back at her briefly, then focused on the rest of the situation. The Alliance warships were well clear of the debris field and opening the distance. Dungeon was far too close to the danger area but should be able to avoid being caught again. Now that he’d dealt with the Syndic forces near the jump exit, he could take the time to evaluate other Syndic defenses in Atalia.
There wasn’t much else. As a front-line star system, Atalia had been fought over repeatedly for the last century, defenses in fixed orbits cratered or blown apart as fast as they could be constructed. Since the last time the Alliance fleet was there, a short while ago, the Syndics had thrown together a variety of fixed defenses like rail guns mounted on moons, asteroids, and a new orbital fort. In addition, a few Syndic Hunter-Killers, roughly similar to but smaller than Alliance destroyers, hung around the two other jump points Atalia boasted. One jump point led back to Padronis, a white dwarf star with nothing to commend it, and the other to the ruined star system of Kalixa. In about four more hours, once the Syndic HuKs saw the light announcing the arrival of the Alliance fleet, one of them would undoubtedly jump out to carry the news of the Alliance fleet’s movements to other star systems. Maybe two HuKs would jump if the Syndics had tried to rebuild anything at Kalixa.
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