“Well, let them go do their thing,” said the General. “No use expending effort in trying to round them up. Just try to keep more from running.”
“Yes sir,” said Baggett. “That’s what I was planning to do anyway. No use stirring up the animosity of the militia that are sticking with us.”
“Good plan, Colonel,” said Klein. “Now let me get back to planning our last stand here. Com me if you need anything, and I’ll try to get it for you. Klein out.”
“So we wait,” said Sergeant Major Zacharias, looking up at the tall Colonel.
“So we wait,” he agreed. “And keep the damned militia digging in and fortifying their positions.”
“So maybe enough of them survive to shoot back when the ground troops come in,” said the senior NCO with a huff.
“So some of them survive,” agreed the Colonel. “And maybe get to kill some of the enemy before they get snuffed out.”
Chapter 14
The expendability factor has increased by being transferred from the specialised, scarce and expensively trained military personnel to the amorphous civilian population. American strategists have calculated the proportion of civilians killed in this century's major wars. In the First World War 5 per cent of those killed were civilians, in the Second World War 48 per cent, while in a Third World War 90-95 per cent would be civilians. Colin Ward, Anarchy in Action
“OK,” said Captain Jessica Frazier, looking at her tactical plot. “Light them up and prepare to fire.”
The com officer transmitted the orders to the strike. Orders they already knew were coming, that were more a confirmation that the time had come.
The strike had coasted for the last four hours at a velocity of over ninety-eight thousand KPS, covering a billion four hundred million kilometers with cold engines while subsisting on crystalline matrix batteries. Total distance since launch was over two billion kilometers. The enemy scout ships, radiating hot on infrared, were at eighty-four thousand KPS and had traveled one billion two hundred million kilometers. There was still a six hundred million kilometer separation between the approaching forces, fifty-four minutes at their present velocities. But the strike force was about to change that equation.
Seven hundred and forty-eight strike/superiority fighters and attack fighters ignited their fusion reactors to full and leapt ahead at nine hundred gravities. In thirty-three minutes the enemy would pick up the infrared emissions and know that they were coming.
Frazier watched the clock as the fighters added eight point eight two KPS per second to their velocity. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. It would still be another six minutes before the enemy caught the first waves of infrared coming from her now hot birds. The group’s velocity at one hundred eight thousand KPS, point three six c, she looked at her tactical/sensor/com officer.
“Fire first salvo,” she ordered. On her attack fighter the doors to the two belly compartments opened up, as they opened on all of the other ships in the strike. Four shapes dropped down from the compartment, their internal engines warming up. After a two second drop, in which time they fell behind the launching ships about nine kilometers, the missiles powered up their drives and sped forward at five thousand gravities. It would be twenty minutes before the enemy picked up the heat signatures from the missiles, their first warning.
There were three target groups ahead, a total of twenty-nine vessels. Two hundred fifty-six of the large Mark XII antiship missiles and one hundred and twenty ECM decoys left the attack fighters. Twelve hundred of the smaller Mark X missiles left the smaller strike/superiority fighters. Most of the Mark XII missiles were targeted at the central group of enemy scouts, while the Mark X’s were evenly spread between the groups.
The Mark X’s boosted for twenty-five minutes, gaining seventy-three thousand KPS acceleration, and cutting off with about two minutes of powered flight left in their batteries. The missiles were up to a velocity of one hundred eight-two thousand KPS, point six one c. And the fighters were coming in sixty-eight million kilometers behind them, at point four six c.
* *
“We have missiles ahead,” called the tactical officer of the pod flag. “Over a thousand of them. Velocity One eight KKPS. Estimated masses between ten and fifteen tons.”
“Attack fighter missiles,” exclaimed the pod leader, looking at his plot. “And there’s bound to be fighters behind them.
“Signal the rest of the pod,” he commanded, making a quick decision. “Launch all on board fighters. They’re to hit the missiles with counter fire, then tear through to the following fighters.”
“Aye sir,” came the acknowledgement from the tactical officer, and the signal went out.
Each scout ship carried a dozen of the fighters, much smaller than those used by the humans. Massing a hundred tons with a crew of two, they were meant more for close in defense and short range strikes as compared to the human birds. Within a minute there were over fifty of the small vessels boosting from their mother ships at twelve hundred gravities. A minute later they were joined by more than fifty others. Each of the other two pods deployed about a hundred of the craft as well.
The fighters had about a minute to engage the incoming missiles. Missiles that were on random avoidance and filling space with jamming and decoy signals. The fighters launched their own missiles, taking out hundreds of the missiles with hits and proximity misses. They targeted with lasers and took out about fifty more missiles. And a few unlucky fighters took out missiles by getting in the way of the hypervelocity objects.
Then the still considerable mass of missiles were through the fighters. Over eight hundred of them tracked the Ca’cadasan scout ships, trying to break through the jamming and countermeasures the six hundred thousand ton vessels were putting out with all of their power. Countermissiles speared out from the scout ships, taking out over two hundred of the human weapons. Less than twenty seconds out close in weapons opened up, sending waves of projectiles and coherent energy beams into space. The Ca’cadasan electronics warfare suites were better than the humans, and broke through the jamming to find and destroy targets. But human technology was good enough for almost three hundred missiles to vector in for a target run.
Ca’cadasan weapons continued to fire as the missiles approached, taking out many at the last second. The vaporizing missiles sent streams of matter into the electromagnetic shields of the enemy ships. Some of the matter got through, to hit the ultrahard hulls of warships. Surface installations were obliterated. A few plasma spears thrust deep into vessels, killing crew and disrupting vital systems.
Most of the missiles could not achieve a solid enough lock to hit the ships. Some did, and seven of the scout ships were shattered when objects with a closing speed of over point eight c struck through their hulls. Miniature suns were born of those collisions, which flared and died in seconds . Many other missiles went for proximity kills, detonating one or five hundred MT warheads at closest approach. Another six of the Ca’cadasan warships were pummeled in that manner, to become drifting hulks. Only eight of the vessels in the three groups came through with minor damage, joined by eight other vessels with varying amounts of harm.
Twenty-six missiles lost lock completely and went nowhere. They would attempt to turn back onto targets, but lacked the energy to kill their velocity. They would eventually coast out of the system and be lost.
* * *
“Missiles on target now,” called out the tactical officer as his display indicated where the missiles should be. They were still two light minutes out and could not see if their missiles had any success. But they had to move now or waste the rest of their load.
“Fire remaining missiles,” ordered Frazier. The fighters dropped another fourteen hundred missiles. These would not have the time to accelerate to the velocity of their predecessors. But if they caught a shattered scouting force they might finish them.
Moments later the tactical officer called out. “We have incoming. Over two hundred small objects coming in to fro
nt.”
“How small?” yelled the Captain.
“Smaller than us,” said the tactical officer. “About capital missile size.”
“Fighters?” she asked, as the data firmed on the incoming.
“Accelerating at twelve hundred gravities,” called out tactical. “Probably not missiles.”
“Prepare for evasive,” ordered Frazier as the small vessels approached. The enemy fighters launched missiles just a second before the humans launched their antifighter missiles. There was no dog fighting between the forces. They were moving too fast for that, and could not alter their vectors enough to make a difference. Objects streaked between the two forces that were closing at over point eight c. Lasers opened up as the range closed to light seconds. Then the human fighters were through the wall of Ca’cadasan’s, fighters turning on their axes’ and firing at the retreating objects.
Three hundred human fighters continued on, opening the gap with a hundred surviving Ca’cadasan fighters. Captain Jessica Frazier’s fighter was not among the survivors that plunged into the formations of Ca’cadasan scouts. Her children, her husband, her Abyssinian cat, would wait for one who was not coming home.
The second wave of human missiles hit the scout ships. The missiles were easier targets this time, moving at a mere point four three c. They still achieved some direct hits, annihilating three of the survivors. Proximity hits destroyed another two ships. Four relatively undamaged and seven damaged vessels came through the barrage, preparing to face the reduced wave of manned fighters.
The human fighters streaked past the scout ships, firing their lasers and other close in weapons. The ships were too well protected by electromag fields, too heavily armored against projectiles, for the fighters to do more than sting them. The fighters were not so well protected. Hits by gigawatt lasers tore through weak electromag fields and flashed hulls. A couple of Ca’cadasan ships sustained heavy damage when struck by out of control fighters. Not a tactic favored by humans, but effective nonetheless.
Less than a hundred fighters passed the Ca’cadasan scout force, heading out system. It would take those most of the rest of the day to kill their velocity so they could return to the inner system. They were effectively out of the fight after losing six hundred and fifty vessels and over three thousand crew. But the Ca’cadasans had been stung hard by the humans, and knew that the conquest would not be as cheap as they had entertained when entering the system.
* * *
Pod Leader Klesshakendriakka’s ship was among the heavily damaged. He cursed under his breath as he checked the data coming through his command circuit. Four hours after the attack by the human fighters and still only half of his acceleration units were online. A quarter would require a complete rebuild, which would take days to weeks. His ship would have to turn over now if he wanted to make the planet orbit. Three of his ships could make it in the original mission specified time, but the other eight would not.
“The pod will stay together,” he ordered the Captain who had appeared on his chair screen. The Captain had been in another pod, and had devolved to Klesshakendriakka’s command when both of the other pod leaders had been killed, one along with his ship. “I will listen to no more arguments.”
“At our present vector and accel we will not get to the planet much ahead of the battle force,” said that officer. “We will not accomplish our mission of scouting ahead.”
“And we will not accomplish that mission by being destroyed out of hand,” said the pod leader in a hard tone. “Your three ships will not survive long in the inner system. Even with our damage, eleven ships are a stronger force than three.”
“I can see that point, pod leader,” said the other Captain, scowling. “But I still believe…”
“I do not care what you believe,” growled the pod leader into the com. Several of the bridge crew looked over, some in alarm, others with a smirk, as they caught the argument between the leaders. “You will do as ordered. We will stay together as a group, with your ship and the other two undamaged vessels in the lead. And you will stay on a tight leash. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir,” growled the angry subordinate, his eyes burning dangerously. “Out.”
One I will have to watch, thought the pod leader. One who might call him out for a blood match at the end of this mission, if both survived.
* * *
Courier ship HLC-12305 came out of hyper VII on the closest direct line approach from sector HQ. Which put her about four and a quarter light hours from Massadora base. CPO Lysander Popodopolis looked at his plot and didn’t like what he saw.
“Lot of radiation out there, Chief,” said Melissa Jackson, watching her tactical board. “Neutrons, gamma, you name it.”
“Like someone’s fighting a war,” said PO McMurty, the helm.
“Get us a link on the planet so we can tight beam our information,” said Popodopolis. The mission came first. Once they completed their vital task they could worry about what the other information might mean to them.
“Found her right where she’s supposed to be,” called out Jackson. “Lot of other objects out there moving around quickly. Or there were,” she said with a shrug.
Yeah, thought the CPO. We never know what’s going on in real time unless it’s right on top of us.
“Get the transmission aimed for transit to where she’ll be when it gets there,” he ordered. Which would entail calculating where she actually was right now, not over four hours in the past, then projecting her location for more than four hours in the future.
“Got her,” said Melissa after a few moments. “Laser aimed. Wait a second. We’ve got something nearby.”
“What?” gasped Popodopolis, his eyes going wide.
“I don’t know, but it’s bigger than us and starting to radiate heat. At about ten light seconds.”
“Send the message,” he ordered, and Jackson hit her commit button. “Get us out of here as soon as the message is off,” he ordered McMurty. “Evasive at maximum gee and into hyper VII as soon as you can.”
“It’ll take us about five minutes to have enough power to open a portal,” yelled the helmsman, his fingers hovering over his board.
“Message away,” yelled Melissa as she turned back to the courier commander. McMurty started to push his own commit.
The little vessel rocked as the high frequency laser hit them. Gigawatts of energy struck through the weak electromag field and into the hull of the vessel. Light was converted to heat and kinetic force. Popodopolis had a moment to realize he was dead as the temperature went from warm to hot to superhot. His fire resistant uniform flamed at the same instant as his skin. He opened his mouth to scream. Superheated air entered his throat and lungs. The bridge exploded with the rest of the vessel, blowing out into space with flaming air and other combustibles. A fraction of a second later the flames were blown out by the antimatter explosion that turned the debris field into the plasma of a very temporary star.
* * *
“They’re radiating,” called the tactical officer as she stared at her board.
“Are they making any moves toward us?” asked Commander Bryce Suttler, leaning forward in his chair.
“No sir,” said the tactical officer. “I don’t think they know we’re here. Range three point six million kilometers.”
About eleven light seconds, he thought, smiling. In any other ship, including the older stealth/attack vessels, they would have been made long before this. Seastag was something entirely different. Even running her stealth electromag, bending light to become invisible in all spectrums, she radiated about as much heat as a small buoy sitting dead in space. Her skin was made of the best insulators known to human science. They reflected enough heat back into the ship to make her an unsurvivable oven, if not for the wormhole.
The wormhole sat in the engine spaces, a mere fifty centimeter hole to another part of space. This part inside a special satellite in orbit around the black hole of the capital supersystem. A sate
llite whose only purpose was to accept the heat of the stealth/attack ships into her one degree above absolute zero absorbing field. The superconducting cable from the Seastag pulled almost all of the excess heat from the ship, plunged through the wormhole, and gave the heat up to a limitless heat sink. Making the ship an infrared hole in space.
“Damn,” cursed the tactical officer. “That courier is transmitting. They just went off the heat scale at their nose.”
Sending their message before moving into the system, thought Suttler. Must be important.
“What’s our boy doing?” he asked of the six hundred thousand ton enemy vessel.
“Nothing yet,” said the tactical officer. Seastag was moving silently at a couple of gravities, trying to set up the shot to do the most damage possible. “Dammit, they’re firing,” called out the tactical officer.
Or they fired, thought Suttler, eleven seconds ago.
“Fire,” yelled the Commander. The crew set into motion the prearranged attack plan, aiming at where the ship would be when the weapons impacted.
The ship didn’t carry its lasers in rings like most warships that needed all around fire capability. Instead the centrally mounted forward laser put out two terawatts of coherent energy in a single beam. To the sides of the beam were particle beams weapons that fired antiprotons at point nine five c. The beams were set to hit a hundred meters to either side of the laser at the range to the target, with a twenty-five meter radius spread. The four forward mounted tubes fired missiles that were as advanced as the ship firing them. Made for short range work, the missiles accelerated at ten thousand gravities and could go for ten minutes before running out of power.
The first the enemy ship knew it was being fired on was when the laser beam arrived. The scout had been trying to be stealthy itself, and so only had its invisibility electromag up. The X-ray laser hit the skin of the vessel, erupting superheated matter into space at it poured energy into the hull. Pouring energy into a single point for three seconds, it moved up the spectrum to gamma rays to defeat the electromag reflecting skin of the ship, and swept from bow to stern and a rate of twenty meters per second. The point of impact spewed alloy and atmosphere into space where the beam had punched through.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 Page 22
