“Something’s wrong,” Barrett shook his head. “We shouldn’t be here with so little—”
“Stow that,” Celesta almost hissed. Her entire bridge crew was becoming increasingly on edge as the Darshik flew their lazy patrol below them and the Terran fleet amassed up near the system boundary, just inside the heliopause as the cruisers flared out from the jump point.
The New York had finally made an appearance and Celesta had risked a burst transmission to Admiral Wilton requesting an orderly withdrawal until they could determine what the hell they were looking at, or at least wait until the Ushin arrived for additional confirmation. He’d berated her for wanting to flee in the face of victory and in no uncertain terms told her he thought Admiral Marcum was right and the stress of commanding the Ninth might be too much for her.
She had ground her teeth as she read the message, but sent no reply. It apparently didn’t matter that she had more combat experience than all of the flag officers combined when they smelled an easy victory and the chance to fly back home a hero.
“All the missile barges are deployed,” Accari said. Celesta didn’t bother admonishing his use of the derogatory term for the heavy missile cruisers. “The New York has just sent the final alert over the Link; first volley will be away in … eleven minutes ship’s time.” Celesta did the math and saw that the alert must have been sent over four hours ago given the com lag. It also meant that Wilton’s warning was meant for the main body of the fleet and the Ninth Squadron destroyers would have to deal with the incoming fire after the missiles had already left the launchers.
“OPS, plot a projected arc for the incoming missiles and let me know when we’ll need to activate our transponder to keep from being targeted,” she said. “I want a five-hour buffer on that. Coms! Make sure the Hyperion and the Atlas get the same information.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Ellison said, his speech almost slurring. She looked around at her crew and made a decision based on what they were seeing from the Darshik so far and the fact their fleet’s missiles wouldn’t arrive for some time. She plugged the numbers in at her terminal and, assuming maximum performance of the Shrikes of seven hundred and fifty g’s of acceleration with a maximum velocity of .17c, they were still looking at just over nineteen hours before the first wave arrived.
“XO, stand down first watch,” she said. “That includes you and I. Have CIC send up a qualified bridge officer to take over. Listen up! I want all of you getting down to your quarters for six hours of uninterrupted sleep by way of the mess deck. Go ahead and take the opportunity to get cleaned up and changed and then I want you back on watch in eight hours.”
“The backshops have been rotating people through in split-sixes, ma’am,” Barrett said. Normally under general quarters everyone worked a twelve-hour shift to provide maximum overlap between the three watches, but with not enough work to go around most department heads preferred to divide that further into six-hour shifts to keep the boredom and fatigue at a minimum until the ship was actually in combat.
“Very well,” Celesta nodded. “You have the bridge until the relief from CIC arrives.”
“I have the bridge aye, Captain.” Barrett nodded and stood, walking over to Lieutenant Ellison to assist in getting everyone moving to where they needed to be.
Celesta knew she’d need to take a “downer” to try and counteract the stims enough so that she could actually sleep. That alone was risky given how exposed they were, but the greater risk was having her on the bridge in command without her full faculties. She was already having trouble focusing and her brain seemed to be wrapped in a fog. If she could manage five or six hours of sleep after a full meal it would help tremendously.
She ate with machine-like efficiency, hardly tasting her food, and was lying in her rack, boots still on, within twenty minutes of leaving the bridge. As the sedatives began to gently coax her mind down from the artificial high of the stims and she felt her body relax, she was still dwelling on the tactical situation further down in the system. Admiral Wilton had already committed to the plan, but she felt like there was something more at play that they were missing. Moments later her brain finally unclenched from around that thought and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
****
Celesta woke with a start, a momentary pang of panic hitting her as she looked around the dark room. But soon the usual hums and pops of her ship underway reached her ears and she heard no alarms so she forced herself to relax, looking at the glowing clock on the far wall. She’d actually managed to sleep for six and a half hours and felt fully charged and ready to go. Gauging that she had about twenty minutes before she needed to get up to the bridge, she pulled a clean uniform from a wall locker and went to her personal head to shower.
Once showered and changed, she took a moment to log into the terminal at the desk in her quarters to check the Icarus’s vitals before leaving. She made a mental note to talk to her steward as she ran her hand across the top of the terminal monitor and came back with a healthy layer of dust mixed with the grime that was ever-present on a starship. It was all the aerosolized fine lubricants and coolants that worked their way through the air exchange ducts and were even deposited all the way up in officer country.
All the ship’s major systems were in the green and she saw Commander Barrett had signed off on the last ship’s log entry. She hoped he had just gotten on the bridge in time to sign the log and hadn’t pulled one of his usual stunts, grabbing a twenty-minute power nap before sneaking back on duty after he’d been ordered to his quarters. With a final inspection of her black utilities she exited her quarters and made her way directly to the bridge.
“Report,” she said calmly as first watch was coming back on duty and getting turnover from their counterparts.
“Still no reaction from the Darshik formations, Captain,” Barrett said. “They have to be able to detect the incoming missiles at this point with their own sensors even if their range is as limited as our own. Our transponder went active on schedule and Lieutenant Commander Washburn added our drone sensor network telemetry to the Link channel that’s feeding updates to the incoming Shrikes.”
“Brilliant.” Celesta nodded her approval. “There was no issue with the integration? There are over two dozen drones out there.”
“She had the CIC put all the data on a composite channel and the Icarus is broadcasting the data, ma’am,” Barrett continued, reading his turnover off his tile.
“Make a note that if this works I want her credited with the idea,” Celesta said. “Has there been any further word from our fleet?”
“Just the standard calls from the New York announcing the second and third Shrike volleys,” Barrett said. “No new orders or warnings. We lost one drone but the cause is inconclusive. It could have been a mechanical failure or it may have gotten too close to a Darshik formation.”
“That brings up an interesting theory, ma’am,” Accari spoke up. He plunged ahead when all heads on the bridge turned to look at him, not just his captain. “What if all these Darshik ships are an automated defense screen? From what we know about the Ushin it wouldn’t take much to keep them at bay; why waste the crews when you could put your damaged and obsolete ships around the planet with simple programming to shoot anything that came too close?”
“Interesting,” Barrett nodded. “We could send another drone in—”
“Wait,” Celesta held up a finger. “It wasn’t the drone that we’d sent to get a look at the planet, was it?”
“Stand by, ma’am,” Accari said, a flush creeping up his neck as the captain asked an obvious question he should have had the answer to. He pulled up his headset and began speaking animatedly, likely to someone down in Flight OPS. The crew down there would have picked the particular drone to receive the updated mission profile and someone likely forgot to update it in the log.
“Confirmed, Captain,” he said after another moment. “The drone that was supposed to take a low-orbit pass of the planet was lost bef
ore it reached the Darshik defensive perimeter.”
“That only raises further questions,” Celesta said. “Keep the rest of our drones on the line providing targeting information to the incoming missiles. The first volley will give us our answers without wasting another Jacobson. What’s the time to impact of the leading edge?”
“First missiles will impact in just under seven hours, ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Adler spoke up. “We’re now receiving real-time telemetry from the weapons over the Link.”
“Let’s light her up,” Celesta said loudly. “Tactical, bring all weapon systems to full readiness and stand by to go active sensors. OPS! Tell Engineering that we’ll be maneuvering shortly. Helm, make sure the RDS is ready and that the plasma chambers on the mains are at full pressure.”
There was a chorus of confirmations as the bridge crew began feeding instructions down to their respective departments to shift the Icarus from a stealthy profile to fully combat ready. Celesta watched her terminal as all the indicators greened up, each indicating a tactical system that was reported as fully ready.
“Tactical, full active sensors,” she ordered once the activity subsided. “Begin high-power scans of our immediate—”
“Contact! Dead astern!” Adler shouted as the sensors went active. “Range is only one hundred kilometers!”
“Helm, ahead flank!” Celesta also shouted. “Tactical, snap fire Hornets, all aft tubes!”
“Aye—” Adler’s confirmation was cut off as the ship bucked, the deck heaving upward, and the sound of a massive explosion somewhere in the ship could be heard and felt. Alarms blared and everyone seemed to be shouting at once.
“Hornets away!” Celesta heard Adler shout.
“RDS pod was hit with … something!” Accari called out. “Engineering isn’t responding.”
“Track the hornets! OPS, jettison the RDS pod,” Celesta called as the first wisps of smoke could be seen coming in through the air handler vents. “Helm, all engines ahead emergency!”
“Main engines ahead emergency, aye!” the helmsman called. “Nav, please feed me course corrections and updates.”
“You got it!” the chief at Nav called.
“Three Hornets have impacted the target!” Adler said. “They’ve slowed, but are still moving to pursue.”
“RDS pod has successfully decoupled and has been jettisoned,” Accari reported. “Still waiting on a status update from Engineering and Damage Control.”
“Coms! Flash message to the rest of the fleet … tell the rest of the Ninth to check their six,” Celesta barked. “Helm! Come to port fifteen degrees by seven degrees declination and maintain acceleration. Tactical, fire at will … whatever you’ve got!”
“Remaining Hornets away! Tubes reloading,” Adler said as her hands danced over her station. “Helm, maintain current attitude … I’m going to let them have it right in the face with the aft laser batteries.”
“Holding course!”
“Ranging … firing!”
On the aft-facing imagers the lasers shot out into space, refracting intermittently off the exhaust gas left by the passing Hornets. The batteries pulsed in a seeming random pattern as individual projectors fired and then shut down to cool before firing again. Celesta could see that the Icarus was venting atmosphere from the aft section, but her focus was on the boxy Darshik cruiser bearing down on her. The last two Hornets from the aft tubes were destroyed by the cruiser’s point defense, but the heavy beams of the aft batteries were another story.
The image washed out momentarily as enormous amounts of thermal energy were released from the lasers hammering the enemy’s hull at such a close range. The tactical computers detected the damage and redirected all the other projectors to that area. The prow of the cruiser mushroomed out and the metal sagged and sloughed away, blown clear by the explosive decompression every time the Icarus’s guns breeched another compartment.
“Cease fire!” Celesta called. “Helm, come to port another ten degrees and keep the throttles to the stops. Tactical, two Hornets right into the damaged prow, if you please. Wait until we’ve opened the range up to ten thousand kilometers.”
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Adler said.
“OPS, get someone on the intercom and tell them I better get a status on my ship within the next few minutes,” Celesta said as she watched the tactical display. The Darshik ship was still under power, but appeared to be flagging and was no longer turning to pursue.
“We’re clear, ma’am,” Adler announced. “Firing Hornets.” Celesta watched, fascinated, as the weapons streaked out of her ship and, at such close range, seemed to impact the Darshik cruiser almost instantaneously. The gashed prow swallowed both missiles and then the hull rippled and undulated before rents appeared in the side and high-pressure gas pushed the ship into a tumble. A split second later the imagers washed out as the cruiser exploded with enough force that even with the safety buffer she’d put between them the Icarus was pelted with debris and the hull reverberated with more than a few hard bangs.
“Target destroyed!” Adler called. “Scanning for more.”
“OPS, what’s the status of the Hyperion and the Atlas? Check their Link broadcast,” she said. “Nav, plot us up and away from the Darshik defensive perimeter and preferably away from the incoming missiles of our first volley. Put us back close to where we started. Helm, engines to zero thrust until you get your new course and then come about at half power.”
“Engines to zero thrust, aye.”
“Both our other ships also had Darshik shadows, ma’am,” Accari said tensely. “The Hyperion is exchanging fire and maneuvering, the Atlas destroyed their target but took significant damage to their starboard main engine. The data is about forty-five minutes old.”
“Coms, order the Atlas to pull up and out of the formation,” Celesta said. “I can’t use a destroyer limping around on one engine. Tell Captain Caruso to start steaming for the jump point back to the Juwel System.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Ellison said.
“Captain, damage control teams are reporting in and Commander Graham is also sending his report,” Accari said. “CIC is confirming that we were hit with that energy lance, which they now think is some sort of short-range directed plasma beam. The RDS took the brunt of the hit but we have six hull breeches, two critical, and four crewmen seriously injured from radiation exposure. No other casualties.”
“Were we able to fling the RDS pod clear?” Barrett asked.
“Yes, sir,” Accari said. “The shearing charges all worked as they were supposed to, and two of the six solid boosters fired and pushed it off the hull. Engineering is reporting minimal damage to our power systems as it was taken out.”
The pod had been designed to be blown clear of the ship should there be some emergency with it that threatened the Icarus. There were cutting charges attached to the eighteen massive bolts that held the pod fast to the hull along with the power cables. After that, six solid boosters that would push it out and away. Since the drive didn’t really work by pushing directly on the ship’s hull, it was able to be attached with just enough hardware to make sure it stayed in place during high-g maneuvers when it wasn’t in use.
“Commander Barrett, please go inspect the damage personally and see to our people,” Celesta said. “Tactical, keep the active sensors up. That son of a bitch was just sitting there behind us and waiting. We can’t afford to let another sneak up. Reload all launcher tubes and auto-loaders and make sure your munitions crews are keeping up.”
As the crew scrambled to follow her orders, Celesta had a moment to think about what it meant that Darshik cruisers had been sitting out there so close to her ships without striking. There was the abduction angle, but those weren’t the class of ship that they’d seen grab the Leighton and disappear, and she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that it had something to do with the seemingly oblivious Darshik flotilla orbiting down below them. What the hell were these bastards up to?
****
“Commander,” Graham nodded to Barrett as the XO walked through the main hatchway to the Engineering area.
“How bad is it?” Barrett asked without preamble.
“Not nearly as bad as it could have been,” Graham said, blowing out a breath through his lips. “That plasma lance hit the RDS pod, something that’s made of six-inch-thick alloy hull plating. I think when the field generators blew they incorrectly assumed they’d hit something vital and shut their weapon down. Had the pod not been there it’s feasible they would have cored this ship all the way to the reactor room with that thing. We’d have never known what hit us.”
“They fired when we went to active sensors,” Barrett said. “They were sitting back there for who knows how long until they knew they’d been spotted. All in all, I’d say we’re lucky to be talking about this.”
“It would appear so,” Graham nodded. “Good thing the captain is fast on her feet. I don’t think we could have taken another hit from that thing at close range. Oddly enough, the older ships are made of hull material so thick they could probably stand up to it for a bit, but these Starwolf-class hulls are just so damn thin. They shed off the heat better but once the ablative shielding is gone, that’s it.”
“You’re not the first one to say that,” Barrett smiled as he recalled his former CO’s disdain for the class of ship named after him. “How are your people?”
“They’ll be fine,” Graham said. “Being treated for exposure so they’re out for a few days, but nobody dead or missing. Come along this way and I’ll show you the worst of it.”
Barrett had seen battle damage on the last two ships he’d served aboard, both lost during humanity’s battle with the Phage, so it wasn’t the scope of the damage that surprised him, more the precision. The Phage had also used directed plasma weapons, but they lobbed it out in a burst that expended its energy over a wider area. A ship like the Icarus, specifically designed for that conflict, had heat-resistant ablative shielding over the outer hull that would absorb and dissipate most of that spent thermal energy.
New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1) Page 18
