by John Carr
II
“And the hell of it is, gentlemen, that I haven’t the faintest goddamned idea of what those Sauron sons-of-bitches are going to do, nor when, nor how, nor even why!”
Adderly had been throwing his pens at the dartboard for the last ten minutes; there was a cluster of them grouped around the bull’s-eye, each later makeshift dart driven in deeper than the last. He was now starting to pitch them hard enough to bury them in the plastic of the wall behind the board, and it was doing no more to relieve his tension than when he’d started.
Captain Edwin Casardi of the Strela leaned back in his seat and spread his hands. “WILL, take it easy; they haven’t moved yet. If they wait until the convoy arrives, they’re hopelessly outnumbered. If they hit us now, we only have to hold, harass and withdraw. One Sauron heavy cruiser against Tanith Starport’s Langston Field won’t amount to a pisshole in a snow heap.”
Adderly stopped to look at him, then to Casardi’s opposite number, Saunders.”Is that what you think, Colin?”
Saunders was a redheaded Gael from New Scotland, fair skin and freckles making him look eternally young. The freckles almost disappeared when he was angry, as he was now.
“Like bloody hell. Sir.” Saunders did not like Casardi and made no secret of it. The Strela’s CO was too confident for Saunders’ taste, and too easy on his crew by half. Saunders’ own Konigsberg boasted the best readiness record of her class, if not the Navy.
“This Fomoria is a heavy cruiser, by their rating, a heavy battle cruiser by ours; but she canna’ outgun all three cruisers and the Chinthes t’boot! We know she’s out there, and if she’s preparing to hit us, as you say, then I say she’ll ne’er be more vulnerable. Let’s take all we’ve got and run the bastard t’ground!”
Adderly rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m amazed, gentlemen; you agree on something.” He looked up at both of them, scowling. “And you’re both dead wrong. Pull out, or attack; either way we leave Tanith to fend for herself. Christ, men, we’re the bloody Navy! What if we guess wrong, Colin, and don’t find her, and she slips in the backdoor with a load of thermo-nukes, and Tanith gets slagged in a terror bombing while we’re out beating the bush? Or say we pull safely out of range and wait for the convoy to pull our asses out of the fire, and suddenly - wham - the Sauron ship drops a battalion of Soldiers through the Field and into the spaceport just in time for their reinforcements?”
WILL, there’s almost two-thirds of a full-strength Division down there!” Casardi sounded offended. “They’d outnumber a Sauron Battalion by six to one!”
After twenty years of being kicked around by the Saurons and their Coalition of Secession, Adderly knew that the Navy’s ranks had been winnowed mercilessly, leaving men who had been fighting in this war long enough to become shrewd, dedicated and skilled in judging their Sauron foe.
I wonder where those men are? he thought, rubbing his eyes. “Ed, Sauron Battalions are designed to engage full strength Imperial Divisions; engage them and defeat them.
Casardi almost snorted. “Maybe twenty years ago, WILL, but they’re on the run, now, everybody knows that. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Aye,” Saunders snapped. “So you’d as soon avoid puttin’ your neck on the lines and let somebody else do the dirty work?”
Casardi’s eyes flashed. In her first engagement three years previous, Strela had been rammed amidships in a battle off Kennicott, losing half her crew in an instant. Twice since then, she had suffered heavy losses, once when her fighter cover had strayed, exposing her to attack, and again when a missile bay had taken a freak hit through a flaw in her Langston Field. The Strela was now marked - an unlucky ship.
“My crew has seen combat, Captain Saunders. I confess I would like to try to spare them further unnecessary glories’ which less experienced officers might find welcome.”
Adderly had heard enough. “All right, both of you. When this is over I’ll officiate at a sanctioned duel if that’s what you want, but until then - and I mean this, gentlemen - I will relieve you both if you do not put your personal differences aside and start working together immediately. Is that understood?”
The short silence that followed before Adderly’s order could be acknowledged was shattered by the battle alarm.
“NOW HEAR THIS. NOW HEAR THIS. BATTLE STATIONS. BATTLE STATIONS. ENEMY WARSHIP DETECTED AND CLOSING. CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE.”
“Ah, Christ on a crutch,” Adderly said with a groan. “You two get back to your ships. Ed, I will want Strela in squadron with Canada. Colin, Konigsberg stands back at reserve distance until further notice.”
Saunders was too well trained to object, but the bitterness came out in his “Aye, sir.”
Casardi only looked at Adderly. “Right,” he said.
Adderly caught his look, pretending to ignore it, as he raced for the bridge. He knew the Strela’s reputation for hard luck and he knew Saunders’ temperament; he’d chosen Casardi’s ship to accompany Canada for those very reasons. Casardi would be prudent in the engagement, while Saunders might prove reckless. But when the inevitable reinforcement was called for, Saunders would throw his ship into the battle with all the fury he’d built up waiting on the sidelines.
If the Navy wouldn’t give him geniuses, he’d have to try and use what he had with brilliance.
III
“Enemy ships holding, First Rank. Three Chinthe-class destroyers, the battle cruiser Canada and the light cruiser Strela. Engagement range in fourteen minutes, Konigsberg moving off.”
In contrast to conditions aboard the Imperial ships, the Sauron bridge was quiet. No klaxons blared. No stations reported readiness levels; they were always prepared for battle. Only deficiencies were allowed to interrupt the First Rank’s concentration, and aboard the Fomoria there were none.
Strapped into the acceleration couch, Diettinger watched the display on the battle screens. Tanith’s surly orange bulk crouched on the bottom left while five red circles tracked slowly around the middle of the view. “Marine status.”
“Standing by, First Rank.” Diettinger’s personal modification to space combat was ready; no doubt the Imperials were prepared for it, but there was really no way they could prevent it.
The three smaller circles moved away from the larger two, moving down and to the left, across the face of Tanith.
“Destroyers flanking to port, First Rank.”
Weapons half-turned in his seat; the First Rank often waited to raise the Langston Field until the last moment, but he was taking even longer than usual.
The smaller circles were at the lower left edge of the viewscreen.”Destroyers off port bow.”
“Visual to 360.”
The walls disappeared. There was now only Tanith System space.
Weapons’ finger hovered over the Field activation pad. “Destroyers to port,” he called.”Coming about and closing on bearing 255. Destroyers have activated their Fields.”
“All enemy Fields activating.” The red circles had changed to solid squares of black with red backlighting.
“Targeting stations, abort fixes on Canada” Diettinger said.”All batteries switch to and engage the middle destroyer. Activate Field.”
Weapons’ finger stabbed fire pads and the Field key almost simultaneously. “Torpedoes away. Lasers firing.”
IV
Aboard the Canada, Adderly’s bridge crew had locked down their own acceleration couches into the circular floor plate surrounding the combat hologram. Adderly wanted them prepared for violent maneuvering, in the hope that the Canada’s agility might not be known to the Sauron commander.
The black bubble of Canada’s Langston Field was charged to maximum, ready for the initial enemy salvo. Adderly wanted to buy time for the destroyers to get in and unload on the Sauron; the Chinthes were a new design, greatly over-gunned for their size, and he was hoping they could charge the Fomoria’s Fields with more energy than could easily be dissipated before Canada started firing.
�
��The Sauron’s lost her lock on us, sir!” The weapons officer’s elation turned to puzzlement. “Wait, she’s locking again - gods, they’re fast! - right; now she’s firing, sir!’
“Engineering, stand - ” Adderly watched the traces in the combat hologram reach out and enfold the lead Chinthe-class destroyer. That ship too, had her Field at maximum, but it was not nearly so powerful as the Canada’s, and was never intended to absorb such a flood of energy at one blow. The Chinthe’s Field went from black to red and up the spectrum to violet almost too fast for the eye to follow. White sparks danced over its surface as the Fomoria’s battleship-killing lasers burned through with insulting ease.
The Field collapsed abruptly and the Chinthe was obliterated.
“The sonofabitch is going for easy kills,” a helmsman cursed. “Cowardly Sauron bastard.”
The other two Chinthes cut hard away from each other, one preparing to pass the rear of the Fomoria and the other to go below her.
Adderly was grim.”Don’t kid yourself; he’s working strictly by the numbers. That’s one less ship to help overload his Field.” And I needed her. “Time to impact the torpedoes?” he snapped.
Langston Fields on big ships didn’t go quickly like those of destroyers; they absorbed lasers and proximity-detonated nukes in prodigious amounts, becoming supercharged walls of missile-eating energy. The time to get torpedoes in was now, before their own beams turned the Sauron’s Field into a free line of defense against them.
There were all sorts of wrinkles to this line of work.
“Ninety seconds, sir.”
“Helm, lay in thirty degrees port, five-Gs emergency burn and stand by.” Five-Gs was more than human norms could take for extended periods, even with acceleration couches; still, Adderly preferred it to being vaporized by the Sauron.
“Signal Strela to get positive two kilometers and fire all lasers at will.”
“Strela acknowledging.”
V
“Incoming torpedoes, First Rank.”
“Target the Canada” The black square representing the middle Chinthe was gone from the viewscreen.
Excellent, he thought. Diettinger’s Intelligence Rank had estimated that this class was very heavily armed for their size, and the enemy commander’s commitment of them at such close range confirmed it. Destroyers usually hovered at the fringe of battle, launching missiles to aid in over-loading enemy Fields. Only if they had great laser capability would they be worth risking close in against a ship like the Fomoria.
An alarm sounded, but it was a soft, triple chime from Weapons’ console, “Point defense penetration, First Rank, one torpedo incoming.” Weapons completed targeting the enemy BC rather than anticipate the missile impact; there was nothing to be done about that.
The Canada’s torpedo detonated partially inside the Fomoria’s Field. Much of the energy was still absorbed by the backside of the screen, but the rest pouring into her hull, vaporizing plates of reflective armor, exposing true outer hull and in places even burning through that. Superheated air and coolants burst within the Fomoria’s skin, rattling the heavy cruiser with a sound like bad plumbing in winter.
“Chinthes slowing; holding positions aft and negative. They’re firing, First Rank.”
“Assess and report,” he ordered.”Torpedo damage status?”
“Combat efficiency unimpaired.”
“Strela at two kilometers positive, First Rank. Opening fire with lasers; locking torpedoes. Canada closing, firing again.”
“Chinthe assessment, First Rank.”
“Speak.”
“Main laser batteries in the C-gigawatt range, tens-of kilotons thermo-nuclears in torpedoes, but light salvo indicated small load same.”
Diettinger was glad he’d killed one early; the Chinthes were armed with the firepower of a light cruiser. The Fomoria now had enemy ships pouring fire into her Field from five of her six aspects, leaving only one free for shifting power into areas of the Field that might require it. The trap was obvious. “Aft and ventral batteries, engage destroyers and continue firing until destroyed. Dorsal batteries, engage the Strela, Weapons.”
“Weapons ready.”
“Mixed ordnance, heavy salvo, on the Canada”
Mixed ordnance was the proverbial kitchen sink. The Canada would receive fusion torpedoes, particle beams, visible lasers and X-ray cluster bursts in an attempt to burn through her Field and roll back her point defense systems. Weapons’ fingers flew over the control panel in response to First Rank’s commands almost as fast as they were given; this was, after all, what he’d been born to do.
“Engineering, six-Gs in one minute. Deathmaster Quilland?”
“Quilland here.”
“Have your Marines stand by.”
“Acknowledged.”
VI
“Sir, Chinthes report their Field’s going into the green,”
“Tell them to hold on for a few more seconds. Signal Konigsberg to engage; she’s to take up our position as soon as we’ve cleared and unload on the Sauron ship with everything she’s got. Gunnery, prep starboard batteries for enhanced charge and stand by.”
Adderly watched the hologram; if they could keep up this punishment to the Sauron’s shields, and not lose another ship, this might work. The Sauron should soon have to shunt power from the starboard, non-engaged sector of his Field to those being bombarded and, hopefully, weakened.
Then, if he knew Saunders, the rabid Scotsman would be in their position almost before they left, allowing Adderly to bring Canada across the Sauron’s bow and hit the enemy’s thinned starboard Field sector with the battle cruiser’s full broadside. He wouldn’t get a Field collapse out of it, but there might be a few burn-throughs, and that could provide him with the edge he needed.
“Konigsberg at two hundred thousand kilometers and closing, sir.”
“Speed?”
“Speed of . .this can’t be right - uh, he’s coming like a bat outta hell, Cap’n!”
Adderly grinned. Good old Colin.
“Helm, execute. Gunnery, stand by.”
“Thirty degrees, five-Gs emergency, aye.”
“Gunnery standing by.” The Gunnery officer’s last word was wrenched out of his lips as the Canada’s main and maneuvering thrusters roared into life at five gravities’ thrust.
Three
I
“Engaged Field sectors moving into orange, First Rank.”
Diettinger had activated the overhead viewscreen and was watching the Strela in its positive aspect rain its lasers into them.”Enemy status?”
“Chinthe shields moving into violet. Canada and Strela shields moving into the green.”
“Weapons, fire mixed salvo on the Canada. Engineering, accelerate to six-Gs. Marines, launch pods.”
Fomoria and Canada leaped toward one another at a forty-five degree angle. Fomoria’s mixed salvo savaged the Imperial battle cruiser’s starboard side, piercing her Field with a dozen burn-throughs. Canada’s starboard batteries, overcharged for Adderly’s planned enhanced broadside, blew out over half their capacitors, destroying the weapons and turning the surface of the Imperial battle cruiser into ragged foil.
On the heels of the mixed salvo, Fomoria disgorged dozens of pods and hundreds of chaff dispensers. The pods were torpedoes, their payloads removed and modified with internal maneuvering controls, and each carried one of Diettinger’s picked EVA Marines.
A quarter of the pods sped past the Canada, effectively out of the battle until they could be retrieved or turned around. Perhaps a half dozen were hit by point defense, despite the chaff, or caught in the ragged salvo the wounded battle cruiser managed to generate from her ruined batteries, a volume of fire that vaporized chaff and pod alike. But the rest pierced the Canada’s shredded Field, losing some kinetic energy to the Field’s effect but not enough to keep them from intercepting the hull. The pods maneuvered into position and disgorged the bulk of the Marines in battle armor, who regrouped on the hull and began
planting breach charges.
The Canada’s own salvo was much reduced, but still effective. Fomoria’s acceleration carried her out from between the combined beams and missiles of the Strela and the two Chinthes, and directly into the path of the oncoming Konigsberg. Saunders had everything the light cruiser could bring to bear, firing on the Sauron, with the Field shifting to meet it.
Canada’s broadside burned through the Fomoria’s weakened starboard Field sector at three Points, disabling two batteries and breaching the hull at the hanger door.
“Proximity alert.”
The Konigsberg and the Fomoria closed at a combined speed approaching thirty kilometers per second, respectable even at the distances normal in space battles.
“Roll starboard 18, negative five hundred meters. Ventral and port batteries maintain fire, fire for effect.”
Diettinger’s orders made little sense to anyone until the moment the Konigsberg and the Fomoria passed each other. Narrowly avoiding collision, Diettinger’s maneuver had kept the distance between the ships to less than four hundred meters, putting them inside one another’s Langston Field.
The ventral and port batteries of the rolling Fomoria were firing blindly, but it was impossible for them all to miss. The Fomoria’s lasers, with no field to stop them, raked across the belly and port-low aspects of the Konigsberg, opening her to space like a gutted fish. As if to add insult to injury, the two ships’ intersected fields merged into one, a phenomenon their creator Langston had called “hobbling,” combining as they passed, distributing the stored energy in the Fomoria’s Field evenly between the two. The Fomoria’s screens dropped from yellow back to dull red; all Adderly’s work from the beginning of the battle was lost.
II
Adderly, however, was too busy to notice.
“Damage Control! Helm, hard about, come to 170, slow to one-G.” Adderly was coughing as the air filled with smoke. He tried to pick out details on the bridge. The battle hologram stood out brighter than ever in the haze, but now he could no longer see the crew around it.
