Antimatter particle beams arrived about nine seconds after the laser started its work on the hull. The ship could see them coming on sensors, but was still unprepared and had not initiated random dodging maneuvers. For three seconds the antimatter raged over the hull, kilograms converting kilograms of matter to energy bursts that ruptured hull and spewed heat and radiation into the ship. As the enemy ship began to raise its electromag shields to defeat the charged particles the beam changed to uncharged neutrons, the stealth/attack switching its particle beam to a function that stripped the charge off of the antiprotons as they left the accelerator cannon. While not as deadly at the antimatter, they penetrated the electromag screens as if they didn’t exist, and imparted their considerable kinetic energy into the enemy ship.
Within four seconds of the uncharged particle assault the enemy ship began evasive maneuvers. Now it was a matter of luck for beams to strike. Anticipating this the stealth/attack had gone to random fraction of a second bursts that targeted the area around the ship. There were a few lucky hits, but not much further damage. Still the alien scout was heavily damaged, with much of its sensor and close in weapon defenses stripped. It tried to fire on the almost invisible ship that had struck it so hard, bracketing the area with lasers and firing a salvo of missiles.
Seastag faded back into the background radiation of the universe, powering down her reactors and creeping away at ten gravities on batteries. A couple of laser bursts came near, one close enough to slide around the ship’s light bending invisibility field.
The four missiles bored in on the enemy ship, accelerating at ninety-eight kilometers per second per second. At fifteen seconds out each of the missiles dropped its first decoy, a ton of quantum matrix batteries, grabber units and transmitters. The decoys accelerated at the same rate as the missiles while moving in a random pattern. The transmitters blared out as much static as possible in every frequency except for the missiles’ active sensor band. The band changed every five seconds, both on the missiles and the decoys.
Seastag slipped into the background of static as she released her own decoys, which whipped out to several thousand kilometers and began to mimic a stealthy ship moving away. But not as stealthy as Seastag. The enemy released a volley of her own missiles, which moved back and forth in a search sweep as they moved out. Some picked up the decoys and drove toward them. Others didn’t pick up anything and moved outward at eight thousand gravities to eventually die in the space between the stars.
At three minutes the Seastag’s missiles dropped their second layer of decoys, the first burning out and coasting on at over seventeen thousand KPS. The new decoys sent out static like the first layer. The ship fired a wave of twenty counter missiles. Four found a lock and drove for the same two missiles. Two lost lock in the jamming and one actually detonated close enough to take out a missile.
At four minutes the missiles dropped the third layer of decoys as they drove in at almost twenty-four thousand KPS. The ship fired close in interceptors and took out a second missile. The interceptors lost lock on the other missiles in the static.
At five minutes the missiles were moving at just below thirty thousand KPS, maneuvering in erratic patterns to avoid the ship’s defenses. One was hit by a defensive laser and detonated four thousand kilometers from the ship. Its radiation added to the background against which the last missile maneuvered. The missile closed within twenty kilometers of the ship. The on board tracking computer realized that this was as close as it was going to get and detonated the warhead.
Five hundred megatons of explosive power ignited off the port stern of the scout ship. The blast effect in space was negligible, but megajoules of heat and radiation hit the stern of the ship in a wave. Two grabber units, the port stern laser dome and a trio of missile tubes were taken out. Atmosphere gushed from already weakened areas.
Suttler watched the damage assessment on his panel, including the visuals of the scout ship’s sides. She was badly hurt, and he would have loved to hit her again. But his was a stealth/attack ship, designed to strike out of the darkness and fade away. They could pick up the heat signatures of other vessels moving toward them. It was time to fade into the immensity of space and begin the stalk anew on another ship. Looking at the battered hull of the enemy scout he had to guess there were at least a hundred casualties on board, if not many more. Enough revenge for the courier. And he had given the enemy something to think about as they cruised about as if they had owned the system. Let them keep on trying, he thought as he licked his lips in anticipation.
* * *
It was over three hours since they had been hit by the fighters, and pod leader Klesshakendriakka was beginning to feel nervous about plunging further into the system. They were picking up dozens of objects on infrared, none radiating too strongly, and couldn’t tell what they were. But they were there and they obviously didn’t have good intentions toward his ships or his people.
“We could fire some probes ahead to get an idea, my Lord,” said the tactical officer. “Best estimate is that they’re still hours ahead at our current decel.”
“Order the lead ships to do that,” he said, looking at his plot. This system was supposed to be a fiercely defended base from what their intel indicated. So there should be some capital ships ahead. He actually would have expected the enemy to meet them further out where the chances of a stray missile hitting the habitable planet were minimized. And what if the enemy ships were all out system, on patrol or some other task. They might just come in behind the Ca’cadasan force. Though they should get some kind of warning from the ships patrolling the zone beyond the hyper limit if anything was getting near.
Maybe we’ve hit the worst of it before the orbital defenses, he thought with a relaxing breath. It would be nice if the system was a pushover. Not expected, but then he could get back to the fleet alive and take command of a repaired ship. Or maybe a new vessel, just come from the shipyards. Or go home and breed with his wives, to bring a new generation of warriors into the Empire. If only…
“We’ve picked up incoming missiles,” called out the tactical officer. “Tracks being relayed from lead vessels.”
Which still had their sensor arrays intact, knew the pod leader.
“Do you have the launch platforms recognized?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice calm. If it was more of the fighters they had to be close and maybe the missiles wouldn’t be coming in too fast.
“No, my Lord,” said the tactical officer. “Wait. They’re powering up and we’re picking them up on infrared. Twenty vessels. Each about twice as large as ours. Maybe more.”
“Are they heading for us?”
“Give me a minute please, my Lord,” said the nervous sounding officer. “I’m attempting to do a track from their emissions. Missiles are identified as three hundred and twenty coming in at five thousand gravities.”
Maybe we can survive those, thought the pod leader, attempting to do saturation problems in his head.
“They’ve launched another volley, my Lord,” said the tactical officer, looking over at the pod leader. “Three hundred and twenty more.”
Six hundred and forty missiles, he thought. Almost sixty missiles for each of his ships. And the defensive systems were not in top shape on most of those vessels.
“Order the pod to target those launching ships and fire everything we have,” he yelled, watching the two waves of red arrows that were twenty-six minutes away. Green arrows appeared on the plot as his eleven ships flushed waves of missiles at the enemy. They had launched over four hundred when the arrows stopped appearing.
“We are emptied, my Lord,” said the tactical officer. “The enemy ships are accelerating away to port at two hundred and sixty gravities.”
Ten minutes passed as the bridge crew sat nervously watching the approaching waves of death. Fifteen minutes, as the closing velocities increased. At seventeen minutes the ships started flushing their stores of counter missiles, trying to knock down what they could at
range. The pod leader shook his head as at twenty-one minutes over three hundred missiles made it through the defensive wall of counter fire.
Short ranged interceptors took over at twenty-two minutes and took out another hundred of the missiles. Close in defenses took out another ninety, leaving ten missiles for each of his remaining ships. They came at a combined closing speed of over point four eight c. And when they hit, what was left of the Ca’cadasan scouting force was plasma and debris floating through space.
The heavy cruiser force continued on its way, accelerating to its next firing position for the fight involving the invader’s capital ships. They were able to blanket the enemy missiles with a far more intact defensive fire. Still a score of enemy missiles got through to proximity hits, one to a straight on penetration that crippled a heavy cruiser and left it a wreck. Five more ships took damage, but nineteen launch platforms were left for the next act of the play.
Chapter 15
A visitor from Mars could easily pick out the civilized nations. They have the best implements of war. Herbert V. Prochnow
“McArthur reports she is ready to translate to n-space, ma’am,” said the com tech from her post behind the Captain.
Captain (acting Commodore) Dame Mie Lei nodded her head and looked at the approaching hyper limit on the tactical display.
“Commander von Rittersdorf reports a lot of translation energy from the system, ma’am,” continued the com tech. “He thinks it’s the reverb from a number of recent translations from the VII band.”
The Captain sat up a little straighter as she heard those words. Only two of her ships could translate to and from hyper VII. Rittersdorf’s Dot McArthur and her own Joan de Arc. There weren’t that many hyper VII capable warships around in human space, for there to be a lot of them moving toward this one system.
“Tell him to be careful, com,” she ordered, wishing she could do a face to face with the younger Commander. But they were too far apart in hyper V to contact in that manner. Coded text would have to do.
“Acknowledges, ma’am,” said the tech. “Translating now.”
Their own detectors picked up the destroyer moving down to n-space in the static of grav waves. She hoped it was alright out there in normal space, and that she wasn’t leading the convoy of helpless ships into a battle.
“Get the rest of the convoy on com,” she ordered the tech. “Last minute orders before we hit the hyper limit wall.”
“Aye ma’am,” said the tech. “All ships on the circuit.”
“This is Captain Mei Lei,” she said over the circuit, knowing the ships were close enough for the voice transmission to get through to them all, if not video. “There is unusual activity from the Massadora system ahead. You may think I am an old lady, but I want to play it safe. All ships increase decel. Anyone who can come to a stop before reaching the hyper limit is to do so, except for my two leading destroyers. I know the freighters won’t be able to come to a stop before the limit so you will translate as close to the limit as you can and continue decel on the other side, with the destroyers riding herd. The other escorts and the troop transports are to wait in V until we come and get you.”
“Ma’am,” said the tech, looking up from her board. “Everyone out there wants to talk with you right now.”
“Tell them I’m busy,” she said, watching the tactical. Her ship could stop before reaching the limit, but instead she let the ship decel at normal. The velocity decreased by the second, until they were almost to the hyper five limit.
“Translate now,” she ordered. The helm acknowledged with a nod and punched in his commands. Space stretched ahead, opening an almost perfectly circular hole through which the star flecked black of normal space could be seen, highlighted by the red tinged backdrop of the hyper V dimension. Then Joan de Arc was through the hole. The Captain felt the momentary queasiness and could see the look of nausea on the faces of some of the bridge crew. The reaction of all sentient brains to the movement between spatial dimensions.
“We have a contact, ma’am,” called the tactical officer, looking at his board, then back at her. “It’s firing missiles.”
“Target?” she yelled out, feeling her gut contract and wondering what she had dropped them in the middle of.
* * *
Lt. Commander Maurice von Rittersdorf felt his stomach turn as his ship reentered the normal universe. It took a second to clear his head, focusing his eyes on the screen. He felt a wave of anxiety come over him as he noted all of the dots and vector arrows that were appearing on the tactical plot, even as he looked at a rash of erupting white pinpoints that signified high energy blasts on the visual scan.
“What do we have?” he asked his tactical officer. Lasardo seemed to have recovered faster than the rest of the bridge crew, an asset in a tactical officer. He was switching attention back and forth between plots and screens, formulating a quick report for his Captain.
“Lots of radiation coming out of the system,” he answered, looking back at his Captain. “Gamma and neutron both. Probably hundreds of antimatter detonations.”
“What about all of those infrared signatures?” asked the Captain as the plot added in accel and velocity figures. Some of the dots changed to arrows as the ship’s computer correlated its observations.
“There are thousands of signatures in the system,” said the tac officer, frowning. “Going to take a while to figure out what they all are.”
“Estimate,” ordered the Captain. “I need to get a report to the convoy, and don’t have time for perfection.”
“Thousands of vessels in the system engaging in combat,” said the tactical officer. “Everything from strike fighters to battleships. Ours and theirs, whoever they are. So far I can’t tell who’s winning. And, oh, by the way. The information is several hours out of date.”
“OK,” said von Rittersdorf, glancing anxiously at the plot. “As soon as we’re able let’s go back into hyper and let the commodore know what’s going on here. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”
“We have a contact,” said Lasardo in a squeak. “Larger than a destroyer from her heat signature. About three light minutes out system.”
“Ours or…”
“We have missile signatures. A half dozen on their way.”
“Evasive,” ordered the Captain. “Move us and prepare defense systems.”
“Another six missiles following the first salvo.”
“How long till we can go back into hyper?” gasped the Captain as his ship began to accel perpendicular to the hyper limit.
“We’re entering the limit now,” called out the helm. “It’ll be two point six five hours to kill our velocity and begin to come back out.”
Damn, thought the Captain. Almost six hours to come back out to where we can go hyper. And if I hyper out now we run into the barrier and undergo catastrophic translation right back into N space.
“Watch out for the rest of the convoy,” he ordered, while his ship moved into the system and he wished for a change in the laws of physics.
“We have a translation,” called out the navigator. “Consistent with an Imperial battle cruiser. Three light minutes out.”
“The enemy?” he asked.
“Almost on top of them. More translations,” continued the officer. “Two destroyers and four freighters. A light minute further out from the flag.”
“Transmit our information through hyper generator,” he ordered the com tech. “Give them everything we have.”
“Orders,” said Lasardo, glancing back.
“Purely defensive for now,” said the Captain. “We’ll hope the commodore can take care of them for us.”
* * *
“Target them and fire,” yelled the Captain as the enemy ship’s proximity registered on the plot. The ship was four light seconds away, and had been as caught off guard by the battle cruiser coming into n-space as they had been by her being so close on their entry. But the enemy scout ship was already engaging a target, all of h
er sensors and weapons systems locked on, and the battle cruiser wasn’t.
The battle cruiser was pointed at the enemy scout and pulling point one c, thirty thousand KPS. The ship engaged her ether paddle drive, the grabbers, piling on two point nine four KPS of accel every second. The Jean de Arc turned at an angle to bring all of her laser rings to bear, being able to boost in any direction no matter the orientation of the ship. The ship initiated all standard attack patterns without excessive commands, the sign of a well drilled crew.
The nanomaterial of the laser rings allowed the photons out into the beams of the attack pattern. A and C rings fired single beams of x-ray energy at the estimated location of the target. B and D rings each fired three beams that flared out for where the target might be if it had headed in any of those directions, then swinging in to the center to converge on where the vessel would be if not evading. The target was still in the process of trying to decide how to evade as the beams struck. Terrawatts of energy poured through the electromag screen of the enemy ship, striking across the hull, vaporizing alloys and carbon armor, pushing heat into internal systems that shattered them, setting crew aflame to burn to ash. The enemy ship bucked as atmosphere was vented to space, pushing the vessel like chemical rockets.
The ship adapted, as warships were built to do. A liquid layer in the armor flowed into holes and solidified. The nanomaterial of the outer skin adapted to the frequency of the incoming lasers and changed their arrangement, becoming almost totally reflective to the x-rays. The incoming lasers changed as well, sliding down to ultraviolet and defeating the reflectivity of the skin. B and D ring beams swept in, burning swathes through the skin until they intersected with the beams from the A and C rings, doubling their power.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 Page 23
