The Legacy of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic

by Robert Kroese

  As it did so, several ships on the right-hand side of the wedge began to pull away from the others, angling upward and accelerating. From their trajectory, it appeared they were going after Philadelphia. As they moved away from Geneva’s surface, they fell behind the others, opening them up to a new wave of attacks from the IDL ships below. Huiskamp ordered all fire to be directed at the ships breaking away, but the enemy ships were now pointing almost directly away from the defenders, presenting only minimal target profiles. They were accelerating hard—probably near the limits of the Cho-ta’an craft, to say nothing of the delicate bodies inside them—and within a minute they were out of range. Commander Lee reported that sixteen ships had broken away and were now on an intercept course with Philadelphia. Depending on how much the group leader wanted to punish the crews, they could catch up to her in as little as two days. The only good news was that this left fifteen fewer ships to go after Renaissance and Freedom.

  For the next twenty minutes, it was mostly quiet as the bulk of the IDL force slipped behind the curve of the planet from the perspective of the Cho-ta’an wedge. Occasionally there would be a flash on the horizon as a missile from a stray IDL ship exploded, but such desultory attacks had little chance of penetrating Cho-ta’an countermeasures. Commander Lee reported that forty-one enemy ships remained in orbit.

  GODCOM, moving more slowly than the IDL ships, slipped past the Cho-ta’an wedge, about two hundred kilometers below and five hundred kilometers to the south, momentarily coming within railgun range. Huiskamp ordered the gunners to open fire, and the Cho-ta’an returned the favor, two of the destroyers launching missiles as well. Marble-sized steel balls streamed from GODCOM toward the enemy ships and vice-versa, traveling at over two thousand meters per second.

  There was no way to effectively shield a spacecraft from a railgun; a single one of those balls would smash a hole through a steel plate a centimeter thick. The prows of warships and deep space craft like the seedships were shielded with several centimeters of ultra-strong synthetic material, but it was impractical to build an entire ship with that much shielding. Breaches were inevitable. Larger ships would automatically seal off breached sections, and newer ships made use of hulls infused with self-healing nanobot gel, but a direct hit by a stream of twenty or more of those projectiles would incapacitate just about any ship.

  The best defenses in space combat, as always, were distance and acceleration. At this range, the railgun projectiles would take nearly nine minutes to reach their target. If the enemy spotted the projectiles in time and altered their velocity slightly, they might dodge the stream with a hundred kilometers to spare. With warships, this process was almost completely automated—the Cho-ta’an sensors would detect the threat and a computer aboard one of the ships would calculate the optimal change in velocity and communicate it to the others. The change was generally so small that most of the crew would have no idea they just dodged a bullet—or several hundred of them.

  The matter became more complicated when you were dealing with many railguns firing from multiple directions, and each of those railguns was controlled by a computer that was doing its best to anticipate which way its targets were going to dodge. As with interstellar war on a grand scale, though, gunfights in space tended to be slow, deliberate and calculating, having more in common with a chess match than twentieth century dogfights between fighter planes.

  GODCOM was less maneuverable than the Cho-ta’an ships, but its vital areas were also better shielded, so it had less to fear from direct hits. In this case, GODCOM’s attitude thrusters were able to move the station out of harm’s way by increasing its velocity slightly and dropping it into a slightly lower orbit. The Cho-ta’an ships successfully dodged the fire from GODCOM as well. GODCOM slipped away underneath the enemy ships and the chess match continued.

  About an hour later, the IDL ships again swept over the horizon and fired a volley of missiles at the Cho-ta’an. Three more interceptors broke apart. The two groups traded fire with their railguns, but again neither side scored any hits. Missiles were much more effective in this sort of skirmish—the Cho-ta’an were hesitant to deploy countermeasures because their ships were spaced only a few kilometers apart, making them vulnerable to stray chaff. The Cho-ta’an still held off firing their own missiles.

  The number of enemy ships in orbit had been reduced to twenty-seven—six destroyers and twenty-one interceptors. It was still way too many. Huiskamp figured that with a little luck, each seedship might be able to fight off two or three ships on its own. The seedships, designed to survive a thousand-year-voyage through space, were thick-hulled and had multiple redundancies in case of a cabin breach, but a single seedship’s defenses would be overwhelmed by a dozen or more enemy ships armed with missiles and railguns.

  The IDL ships once again passed out of range, and GODCOM was still over the horizon from the enemy ships when another group broke orbit. This group, made up of a three destroyers and ten interceptors, was on a course to intercept Renaissance. That left eleven interceptors and three destroyers to pursue Freedom.

  The good news was that not a single IDL ship had yet been lost. If they could pare the Cho-ta’an force down a little more without losing any ships, they might still have sufficient resources to defend the seedships. The IDL ships were as fast as the Cho-ta’an’s, and humans were more tolerant of high acceleration than Cho-ta’an, so if the IDL ships split into three groups, they would have no trouble catching up to the Cho-ta’an before the latter came within missile range of the seedships. The only question was whether the IDL ships would have sufficient firepower. The Cho-ta’an still outnumbered them, and the IDL ships had used nearly half their missiles already.

  Commander Lee’s best estimate indicated that the IDL ships would get one more shot at the Cho-ta’an before the last of the enemy ships broke orbit. A few minutes before this, GODCOM would pass within a thousand kilometers of the Cho-ta’an, giving it one last shot as well.

  “It’s not going to be enough,” Huiskamp murmured.

  “Sir?” asked Lee.

  “Even if we take out half of those ships, that leaves seven to pursue Freedom. We might be able to protect two seedships, but not all three.”

  “They don’t have many destroyers, sir, and our frigates are more than a match for their interceptors.”

  Huiskamp shook his head. “Except we’ll be out of missiles. If we try to save all three ships, we’ll lose all three. We’re going to have to let one go.”

  “Jesus, sir. How do we pick?” The unspoken question: are you going to sacrifice your son’s ship to let the others get away?

  “Renaissance and Philadelphia have a bigger head start, and fewer Choties chasing them. Plot a course after Renaissance and one after Philadelphia. Split our frigates into two wings. After this group breaks orbit, we’ll send Alpha Wing after Renaissance and Beta Wing after Philadelphia.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  God forgive me, thought Admiral Huiskamp.

  He looked at the animated rendering of the ships racing around the globe. Closest to the surface and traveling the fastest was a blue dot representing the IDL ships. Above the blue dot was a slower-moving yellow dot representing GODCOM. Above this, moving still more slowly, was a red dot representing the Cho-ta’an ships. The blue and red dots were separated by nearly a third of the distance around Geneva. The yellow and red dots were closer, and the gap was closing. If only he could slow the yellow dot enough to line the three of them up….

  “Ms. Aguilar, how much acceleration can you get out of this thing?”

  Marissa Aguilar, the navigator, turned to give him a quizzical look. “Sir?”

  “GODCOM. Acceleration.”

  “Um, a tenth of a gee, if efficiency is not a concern. GODCOM isn’t really designed to move quickly.”

  “Can you slow us enough to match the Choties’ orbit?”

  “It will take most of our fuel, but I think so, sir. I’ll need a minute to run the calculations.”
>
  “Forget about fuel. How long will it take?”

  “Sir, I’ll need to—”

  “Ballpark estimate, Aguilar! Time is of the essence. If we begin accelerating immediately, how long will it take to match the Choties’ orbit?”

  “Twenty minutes, sir? That’s a wild—”

  “Do it.”

  “Yes, sir. Sir, you understand that if we change course without calculating a precise orbital trajectory, we could end up on a collision course with the Cho-ta’an ships?”

  “Promises, promises,” Huiskamp said.

  “Sir?”

  “Just make it happen, Ms. Aguilar.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Quintus Tineius Rufus, legatus augusti pro praetore for the province of Judaea, sat astride a massive chestnut horse on a low hill overlooking a rocky valley just north of Aelia Capitolina. To his right, also mounted, was Lucius Antonius Falco, legatus legionis of the Sixth Roman Legion, Legio VI Ferrata. Accompanying them were a score of aides and adjutants. Below, standing at attention in a square formation, were the 5,300 men of the legion.

  “The legion appears to be in fine form, Lucius,” said Rufus.

  “We drill daily, sir.”

  “Even while keeping up work on the aqueduct?”

  “Yes, sir. Discipline is essential in all manner of activity.”

  “Well said, Lucius. When we put down these rebels, much of the credit will be yours. I will put in a word to the Emperor.”

  “That would be much appreciated, sir, but the credit belongs to the men. There is a reason the motto of the Sixth is Fidelis Constans.”

  Rufus nodded approvingly and urged his horse forward to the edge of the bluff. “Men of the Sixth Legion,” he cried, “today you shall see glory! A group of Jewish vermin have infested the valley north of Aelia Capitolina. They insult the Emperor and Jupiter by delaying the construction of the city and the temple. Our brothers in the Tenth have fought valiantly, but the cowardly Jews refuse to meet us in battle, preferring to throw rocks from the hills and then flee into their caves. Legio X Fretensis has been forced by this constant harassment to retreat inside their garrison walls, and the Jews have cut off their supply of food and water. You have been called away from your vital work in the Yizrael Valley to aid them. We shall march through the valley, purging it of the Jewish vermin and securing the road to the city. If we move quickly, we will trap many of them in the open. The men of the Tenth are awaiting our arrival and will launch their attack once we have secured the valley. We shall catch them between us like an animal in pincers, and your gladii will be stained to the hilt with the blood of the Jews!” He drew his own sword and raised it over his head. “For Rome and for the Emperor!”

  “For Rome and for the Emperor!” roared the men as one.

  *****

  “The Romans have sent reinforcements, Nasi. The entire Sixth Legion. The governor himself commands them.”

  “You sound worried, Eleazar,” said Simon ben Kosevah, smiling. “Let them come.”

  “We should retreat,” said Eleazar. “We cannot hold the valley against two legions.” The two conferred in Simon ben Kosevah’s private quarters in the vast palace called Herodium, near Bethlehem. Built on top of an artificial hill at the edge of the desert by King Herod, Herodium had four massive towers that allowed sentries to see for miles in all directions. The Romans had tried and failed to take it from the Jews on several occasions since the war began. So confident were the rebels in their position that they had sent over ten thousand men to the Tyropean Valley, some five miles northwest of Herodium, in an attempt to oust the Romans from Aelia Capitolina.

  “The valley is not our objective, Uncle. Keep your eyes on Yerusalem.”

  “If we lose the valley, we will never take Yerusalem. Starving out the garrison was a good plan, but it depended on keeping the Sixth occupied elsewhere. The countryside has not risen up in the numbers we had hoped.”

  “Ah, Eleazar! You see so much and yet so little. You think like a farmer. ‘Perhaps if I work this valley for a time, I shall someday acquire the hill as well.’ Eleazar, our crop is not wheat or grapes, but men. We will not take Yerusalem until we have many more men, and we will not raise more men until we have shown that we do not fear the legions.”

  “I find it is easier to suppress my fear when I am safe in this fortress,” said Eleazar cautiously. He was perhaps the only one who dared speak to Simon ben Kosevah so boldly.

  Simon laughed. “Then here you shall stay, Uncle. As for me, I will go to meet the Romans at the foot of the holy mountain.”

  “Surely you do not intend to fight? Our movement cannot afford to lose you, Nasi.”

  “Our movement will not survive without a leader willing to lead. Do not be afraid, Eleazar. Though the Romans take the valley, they will not harm a hair on my head.”

  “Then you expect to be defeated?”

  “I expect to lose the valley. And to bloody two Roman legions.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  To move GODCOM with any precision required halting the station’s spin and then orienting it so that its axis pointed in the direction of travel. That meant everyone on board first felt the discomfiting sensation of the one-third of a gee of pseudo gravity slowly disappear, and then the even more uncomfortable feeling of suddenly being sideways. The ship’s acceleration was less than a tenth of a gee, but this was enough to require that everyone on board be strapped into a chair to prevent falling sideways onto a wall. Even secured tightly into the admiral’s chair on the command deck, the sudden change was enough to make Huiskamp queasy—and he tolerated it better than most. Fortunately he had the foresight to order all non-essential personnel off the command deck. This left only the three critical bridge crew members: Aguilar, Haas, and Lee.

  Changing orbits on the fly was a dicey proposition, but Aguilar’s hurried calculations were borne out. Huiskamp’s goal had simply been to slow enough that GODCOM could fire her remaining missiles while the Cho-ta’an were still in range of the IDL ships. Lee’s algorithm currently projected that the IDL and GODCOM would pass within five hundred kilometers of the Cho-ta’an ships simultaneously.

  Minutes ticked by, and the IDL ships crept closer to the Cho-ta’an wedge. Soon the IDL ships would pass almost directly underneath the Cho-ta’an. Meanwhile, GODCOM continued to slow and move outward from Geneva, drifting closer to an orbit that would intersect with that of the Cho-ta’an wedge. “A thousand klicks and closing,” said Aguilar, brushing a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

  “Missiles ready,” said Lee.

  “Hold your fire, Mr. Lee,” Huiskamp instructed. The only chance they had was to fire at the same time as the IDL ships, overwhelming the Cho-ta’an countermeasures.

  “Incoming projectiles,” said Aguilar.

  “Stay the course, Ms. Aguilar.” They needed every bit of acceleration GODCOM could muster. Their window of simultaneous engagement was already small; they couldn’t risk narrowing it further to dodge railgun bullets.

  A klaxon warned that the hull had been breached. There was no other sound, except for the constant groaning of the station under the strain of the unnatural acceleration, but on the graphical depiction of the station over Huiskamp’s head, three sections flashed red. That meant they were losing atmosphere and would be sealed off. A readout under the graphic detailed the damages. So far, they were minor.

  “Five hundred klicks and closing,” said Aguilar.

  Huiskamp began to worry that they’d decelerated too hard. GODCOM was now within missile range, but the IDL ships were still too far away. The tactical readout estimated that the IDL ships would be in range in thirty seconds.

  “Hold your fire,” Huiskamp said again. The klaxon was sounding constantly now. Four more sections lit up in flashing red. The lights went out, and emergency lighting came on. The readout said life support was offline, and one of the thrusters was damaged.

  “Sir,” said Lee, “if we don’t fire now, we risk losing our we
apons systems. Another hit like that—”

  “I’m aware of the risks, Lee. Hold your fire.”

  “Four hundred klicks and closing.”

  There was a loud crack from Huiskamp’s left, followed by a whistling like air being pulled through a keyhole. Huiskamp’s ears popped as the pressure in the cabin suddenly dropped. Glancing up, Huiskamp saw stars though a perfectly round hole in the ceiling. “Patch that!” he shouted, but it was unnecessary. Dietrich Haas, the engineer, had already undone his restraints and opened a nearby emergency cabinet. Locating a patch, Haas made his way up the wall toward the hole. He slapped the patch over the hole and the whistling stopped.

  “Three hundred klicks and closing,” said Lee. “Alpha Wing is in range.”

  “Open fire,” Huiskamp said. “Give ‘em everything we’ve got.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lee said.

  There was a rumbling as the missiles left their silos and streaked toward the Cho-ta’an ships.

  “Alpha Wing has launched missiles,” Lee said.

  “Two hundred klicks,” said Aguilar.

  “Beta Wing is now in range of the enemy,” Lee said. The Cho-ta’an have launched missiles.”

  “Target?”

  “Looks like they’re headed this way, sir. Chaff has deployed.”

  Good, thought Huiskamp. The more fire we take, the better the chances our ships have of making it through this.

  “One hundred klicks,” said Aguilar. A proximity warning sounded.

  “Cut acceleration,” Huiskamp shouted. “Brace for impact.”