Attack on Thebes_A Military Science Fiction Space Opera Epic

by M. D. Cooper

  Krissy shifted Major Kevin to the secondary holotank and brought up a view of the moon, the three pursuers, and the Regent Mary on the main tank.

  The Airthan ships were a hair over forty-thousand kilometers behind the Regent Mary, and the moon was still one hundred and ten thousand kilometers distant.

  Too far for pinpoint precision on jinking ships, but close enough to scare them.

  Six rail emplacements on the moon’s surface fired, sending uranium slugs streaking through space at over ten-thousand kilometers-per-second.

  Just over ten seconds to react gave the Airthans plenty of time to move their ships, but a second salvo was already firing, forcing the enemy vessels to jink in ever more erratic patterns, slowing their ships further and widening the gap between them and the Regent Mary.

  Krissy wondered what the enemy ships would do. Two of the vessels were Saggitar Class cruisers that could fire rails on nearly any vector. The third was a Cranmore Class destroyer; its only rear-firing weapons system were defensive beams.

  If she were the captain of that ship, she would feel very nervous about turning to fire on the moon.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever been happy about a Cranmore’s weapon systems,” Krissy muttered.

  There were a few nods around the bridge, but no one was happy about firing on ships filled with people and AIs who had been comrades just a few months ago.

  Sure enough, the destroyer shifted its vector and moved stellar northwest, altering its trajectory to cover the far side of the moon, where the Regent Mary would emerge after its loop.

  “But they’re exposing their flank to the moon,” Scan muttered. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Don’t forget,” Krissy cautioned. “The Airthans have the same information we do about this moon and its stationary emplacements.”

  “Bastards are pocketing right into a spot our rails can’t hit,” Major Kevin nodded. “But what they don’t know is that when another command in this system…devolved…I picked up a pod of attack drones.”

  Krissy wanted to deliver a biting comment about not sharing that rather useful information with her before now, but she reminded herself that beggars can’t be choosers and nodded to the man.

  “Full pod? What model?”

  “One hundred and ten, the MK-97s.”

  Krissy nodded. The 97s were an older model, but that number was more than enough to drive off the destroyer—either that, or the cruisers would have to stop chasing her to aid it.

  “Let ‘em rip, Major.”

  “They’re in the chutes, deploying in thirty seconds.”

  Thirty seconds; otherwise known as a lifetime.

  Though the Regent Mary continued to decelerate on its approach to the moon, the Airthan cruisers were falling further behind. Krissy had to hand it to their captains. Though their jinks were random, their general trajectory was toward the moon’s poles.

  If the enemy ships continued on this trajectory, they would be positioned on three sides of the moon when the Regent Mary passed behind it.

  The tactic was solid, and would lead to certain victory—if the ‘Mary was alone.

  Droves of civilian ships began to pull out of orbits around the moon, determined to be anywhere but where the four ships were about to begin their fight.

  “Comm, keep Orman advised of the civilian vectors. They’re pulling out of STC assigned lanes.”

  “Yes, ma’am, transmitting anticipated enemy positions.”

  “Orman?” Major Kevin asked, his brows raised. “How is he insystem? We don’t see him on scan.”

  Krissy turned to look at the major on the secondary holotank. “Sorry, Major, you’re just going to have to trust me for a little bit longer.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Despite her not sharing her plans with him, the Major appeared pleased with her response. She supposed knowing that his base wasn’t about to be blown into oblivion was morale boosting.

  “Drones are launched,” Major Kevin informed the bridge crew. “They have their target.”

  “I have them on scan,” Ensign Dyson confirmed. “The destroyer is altering course.”

  “Million klick range on those Mark 97’s,” Major Kevin was grinning now. “They’re going to have to run for a while.”

  With only two targets to focus on, the moon’s railguns drove more fire into the Airthan cruisers, who had still not fired back on the moon.

  What are they planning? Krissy wondered.

  “Major—” she began, when Kevin swore.

  “Dammit, that report was never supposed to be circulated!”

  Krissy turned to face his holo. “What is it?”

  “Our equatorial emplacements can’t hit ships above the poles. They’re designed to, but under testing, the magnetic field strength wasn’t enough to bend the shots at acute angles. We’ve had an order in for upgrades for years, but it’s never come. In another minute, they’ll only be in range of the two polar emplacements.

  “Shit!” Krissy swore. “They’ll weather that with ease—or blast ‘em to smithereens. What I wouldn’t give for grapeshot.”

  “Ma’am! Grapeshot is against our doctrine,” Major Kevin replied.

  “Major, if I had grapeshot available, I’d fire every damn gram at these bastards.” She turned to Ensign Quan on weapons. “Helm, spin us. Weapons, lay into them with the rails. If they think they’re going to hit a dead spot, they’ve got another think coming. Target the cruiser at the north pole. Major Kevin, concentrate all your fire on that cruiser headed for the south pole. When they’re in range, lay on your p-beams.”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  With the dampeners on low power, the ship shuddered as each rail shot tore out of the accelerator, but Krissy didn’t care. They just had to hold out for another two minutes.

  The Regent Mary was within ten-thousand kilometers of the moon now, braking hard from its prior velocity. In thirty seconds, they’d be behind the bulk of the dull grey orb.

  But that cover would only last so long.

  Based on current vectors, the enemy cruisers would be in a position to fire on the ‘Mary seventy seconds later.

  It was going to be tight.

  “They’re firing on the polar emplacements!” Scan announced.

  Krissy watched as the two polar rail emplacements on the moon were smashed to dust by beam fire from the cruisers.

  Major Kevin made a small noise of dismay. “Ma’am, I have no further firing options, unless you count close-range SSMs.”

  “No,” Krissy shook her head. “You don’t have enough of those missiles to make it past those cruisers’ point defense beams and penetrate shields.”

  The major nodded, and Krissy glanced at the status of the CriEn power hookups. Estimates were at two minutes.

  Every eye on the bridge had turned to the main holotank showing the moon with the two cruisers, each approaching over the poles, and the Regent Mary, momentarily hidden behind the horizon.

  A timer above the display counted down the seconds until the enemy would have firing solutions.

  “I hope you have a whole Snark deck up your sleeve, Admiral.” Major Kevin’s voice wavered, and Krissy turned to nod soberly. “The enemy’s gonna wish it was just a Snark deck.”

  The countdown hit zero, and the enemy ships opened fire on the Regent Mary. Particle beams blazed trails through space, the lines glowing brightly on both the holo and visuals, excited photons spiraling away as the beams smashed into stray hydrogen atoms in the vacuum of space.

  The Regent Mary shuddered, and consoles flashed warnings as the backup fusion generators reached critical levels.

  That was the problem with stasis; nowhere to bleed the heat. The more the generators worked to keep the shields up, the more heat they trapped within those shields.

  Krissy held her breath as the second counter, this one at the bottom of the holo, hit zero.

  C’monnnnn, Krissy thought, willing Orman’s second division to appear. What’s
taking so long?

  One second passed, then two. Krissy drew a deep breath. “Major Kevin, fire every SSM you have.”

  “Ma’am,” the major grunted in acknowledgement.

  “I have them, the fleet’s here!” Scan cried out.

  “Belay that, Major!” Krissy shouted, and held back a whoop of joy as ten ships jumped in, only thirty thousand kilometers above the moon’s north pole.

  The cruiser above the moon ceased firing on the Regent Mary and cut its engines. A signal of surrender if ever there was one.

  Seconds later, another ten ships appeared just off the moon’s southern pole, one of the newly arrived cruisers narrowly missing a civilian freighter that was boosting away outside of approved lanes.

  “Hoooly shit, Admiral,” Major Kevin swore and seemed to sag against a console not visible in the holo. “How the hell did you do that?”

  Krissy turned to the man and winked. “I’ll tell you later, not over comms. Let’s just say that it’s a tactic the Airthans are going to have a hard time countering.”

  “Ma’am,” Comm called out. “The Airthan ships have signaled their surrender.”

  Krissy snorted. “I’ll bet they have.”

  On the holo, the ships of Admiral Orman’s Second Division continued to jump in, dozens of ships slotting into orbits further out from the moon.

  “Tell the Airthan captains I want them on shuttles, making for the ‘Mary in ten minutes. There’s a warm spot in our brig waiting for them.”

  “Aye, ma’am!”

  Krissy couldn’t help a predatory grin from creeping across her face. An idea was forming in her mind.

  PRESIDENT SERA

  STELLAR DATE: 02.09.8949 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Fleet Strategy Room, Keren Station

  REGION: Khardine System, Transcend Interstellar Alliance

  Admiral Greer nodded with approval. “It’s a solid plan.”

  Sera agreed with Greer’s assessment. “So long as she doesn’t overuse it. Eventually, they’ll turn it on her.”

  “Maybe,” Greer agreed. “But with the advantage the QuanComms give us, it’s hard to trap our ships. Give us ten minutes, and we can have backup anywhere within a thousand light years.”

  Sera nodded as she considered Krissy’s victory and what it meant. It was one thing to know on paper that they could summon reinforcements anywhere at a moment’s notice, but it was another to see it used effectively in practice.

  However, it added the risk that they could easily overextend themselves. And there were other concerns, as well.

  Even though the tech was hundreds of years old, other than a few skirmishes along the front with the Orion Freedom Alliance, no one had used jump gates in major warfare.

  One of the main reasons was because jumping deep into a star system was a dangerous business.

  Conventional grav and EM shielding took a few seconds to activate after a jump, which was more than enough time for a stray rock to hole your ship—or for limpet mines to attach to your hull.

  But now, stasis shields changed that. Their ability to activate the instant a ship exited from a jump negated that concern. Used in combination with the QuanComm system, which provided real-time destination data allowing for precision-placed on-demand reinforcements, the shields made for an advantage that changed the battlespace and invalidated broad swaths of both tactical and strategic doctrine.

  “We’re going to need to build up more gates,” Sera said after a few moments. “And develop strategic supply locations where we mass fleets. Preferably not in major systems.”

  “Agreed. These staging grounds will turn into our greatest weaknesses if the enemy locates them. But it’s not a new problem.”

  Sera nodded absently as she loaded charts of nearby regions and flipped through potential locations for the bases.

  “What about SC-91R?” she asked.

  Greer’s eyes snapped up to lock on Sera’s. “What? Are you insane?”

  “They’ll never, ever look for a staging ground there.”

  Greer nodded emphatically. “Correct, because it would last all of ten hours before it was devoured. Unless…”

  Sera nodded slowly. “Unless.”

  Greer brought up a view of SC-91R on the holotank between them. Officially, SC-91R was a black hole of seven solar masses, nine hundred light years coreward of Khardine.

  The official record wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Once, SC-91R had been a B-class star—a rather unpleasant one—and also the location of a secret dark matter research facility run by the Nakatomi Corporation.

  An experiment to test insystem dark layer transitions went awry, and a rift between the dark layer and normal space opened up.

  Details were sketchy, but supposition was that the ‘things’—known in the Transcend as Exdali, a twist on extra-spatial dark layer entities—had escaped through the rift and devoured the research facility.

  Some researchers managed to get out a signal containing some scant details a few seconds before the base went dark. Nakatomi claimed that an accident had destroyed the facility, and provided no further explanation, apparently hoping that the Exdali would fall into the star and be destroyed, hiding all evidence of their colossal mistake.

  In some respects, very valuable information did come out of the Nakatomi incident at SC-91R. The most useful being that stars do not kill Exdali. Exdali kill stars.

  At first, there were oscillations in the star’s orbit, combined with fluctuations in its EM output. The observations correlated with one of the star’s large gas giants moving insystem—though the rate of change was occurring orders of magnitude too quickly.

  Then the star’s output began to dim further and further until it exploded from a mass imbalance that no standard model could account for.

  A stellar nebula should have formed, expanding out from a white dwarf, or perhaps neutron star, remnant.

  But the expanding cloud of gas and dust only survived a few years before it disappeared. There was no sign of any stellar remnant.

  Now SC-91R was interdicted, and slowly, a dark smudge between the stars grew year after year, reaching toward other nearby sources of mass.

  Admiral Greer glanced at Sera, his expression filled with concern. “True, we saw the ISF close up a small rift…one with only a few Exdali—”

  “Few thousand,” Sera corrected.

  “Doesn’t matter, they were tiny. You saw what the survey data shows about SC-91R. Some of the Exdali are of jovian mass. And the core? We don’t even know if that’s a black hole, some other type of ultra-dense matter, or just one of the damn Exdali!”

  “We have to fix it eventually,” Sera shrugged.

  “Yes, yes we do. After the war. For all we know, taking care of SC-91R could be as large an effort as everything else we’re currently undertaking.”

  Sera nodded. She hadn’t expected Greer to oppose her idea so vehemently, but she could tell that this was not the time to push further.

  Jen suggested.

  Sera replied.

  Aloud, she said, “Your concerns are noted, Admiral. What about STX-B17?”

  Greer scrubbed a hand back and forth on his cheek. “You know, Sera, when I backed you for the presidency, I didn’t think you were insane. I assume you’re aware that STX-B17 is a black hole?”

  Sera grinned. “Second-last place they’d look for our staging ground, after SC-91R. Look, there’s still a jovian planet out beyond the major magnetic bands. We can set up there.”

  Sera switched the holotank to show STX-B17’s position at the edge of the Orion Arm. “It’s
centrally located in the Transcend, within ten-minute striking distance of Airtha by jump gate…”

  “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Greer asked.

  Sera gave an exaggerated shrug. “If we’re going to have a staging ground capable of fueling and supplying a large segment of our fleet, why not make it one that can finish the war in one fell swoop?”

  “You’d need a million ships to take Airtha,” Greer countered. “Sure, the Transcend has many more than that, but we can’t leave every system vulnerable just to mass that one fleet.”

  “In principle, I agree, Admiral. But remember. We don’t have to garrison ships anywhere anymore. We can leave probes and patrol craft in systems, and call for help when needed.”

  “Don’t get carried away, Sera Tomlinson. If we leave too many ships out there with QuanComm blades, the enemy is likely to find out what we’re up to. Once they do, it’ll only be a matter of time before they find our staging ground. It doesn’t take that long to send probes to all the likely suspects.”

  Sera saw Greer’s point. Unorthodox tactics were fine, but they were better if the enemy still believed that you were following existing doctrine.

  Jen said with an encouraging smile.

 

  “I think we’re onto something, here.” Sera placed her hands on the edge of the holotank. “Draw up a proposal and send it to Krissy. I want her thoughts on this.”

  Greer nodded slowly. “I’m not entirely sold on this myself, you know.”

  “I understand, and if you and Krissy recommend against it, I’ll reconsider. But we have to figure out a meaningful way to use the advantage QuanComms give us.”

  “Understood,” Greer replied.

  Sera pushed off from the holotank and turned to leave the room before stopping and turning to face Greer once more. “Oh, and Admiral Greer?”

  “Yes, Sera?”

  “We’re not going to ‘take’ Airtha. We’re going to ‘take it out’. The whole thing—ring, star, everything. Nothing survives.”