Against All Enemies ps-4

by John G. Hemry

  Paul swallowed and continued his reply. "Captain, we've just picked up high confidence indications that the Pyotor Veliki is also charging weapons." Were the Russians coordinating their actions with the SASAL ships, or were they responding to the SASAL actions? There wasn't any love lost between the South Asian Alliance and the Russian Federation, but that didn't mean there weren't areas of mutual interest.

  Captain Hayes sounded very unhappy, making Paul glad he wasn't face to face with the captain at the moment. "No one else, yet?"

  "No, sir. Yes, sir." Chief Imari had highlighted information on Paul's display. "The Middle Kingdom is charging up now, too."

  Commander Garcia was suddenly there at Paul's elbow, glowering ferociously at the display. Unable to find anything wrong, he slammed a fist onto the nearest surface. "Captain, the Han Chinese don't like the South Asians at all. They can't be working with them. They must be charging up in response to seeing the SASAL ships doing it."

  "Self-defense?" Hayes questioned.

  "Yes, sir. Captain, recommend-"

  "No." Hayes cut Garcia off before he could recommend that the Michaelson charge up her own weapons.

  Garcia flushed, then switched his anger to Paul. "Run a tactical simulation of what'll happen if the SASALs and Russians open fire on us and the Europeans."

  "Sir," Senior Chief Imari interposed. "We're all at dead stop relative to each other, fairly close together and all our positions known exactly. We don't have to run a sim to know what'd happen if those ships open fire on us right now, sir."

  Garcia glared at Imari, but nodded sharply. Any "battle" would last for only seconds as the ships with powered-up weapons riddled those who'd refrained from the provocative act.

  "Sir?" Paul looked toward Senior Chief Imari as she spoke. "Captain's activated Big Brother."

  Paul nodded, staring back at his display. Normally, warships stayed very quiet, communicating only in very short bursts when absolutely necessary, in order to keep their locations uncertain. But that made no sense now. Big Brother was a fairly new system, one designed to fire hose as much information as possible from the Michaelson back to fleet headquarters. All internal and external communications, sensor readings, orders given and received, the status of equipment onboard. Whatever happened to the Michaelson, the records of the event would be known with certainty to those receiving the Big Brother transmission.

  Garcia slammed his fist down again and pointed wordlessly. Paul followed the gesture, seeing indications springing to life on the display, indications that said some sort of combat using hand weapons was erupting on one end of the asteroid. The cops got spotted going in. Can they -

  An alert sounded. "Alliance ship Gilgamesh is firing," the Michaelson 's combat systems computer announced with its unvarying calmness.

  Heads all over Combat jerked to focus on the combat action symbology which had flashed onto display screens. Paul had the briefest moment of dread as he wondered if the SASAL ship had targeted the Michaelson. He'd barely had time to realize that the ships were so close that if the Michaelson had been shot at, the Gilgamesh 's blows would strike home at the same time as the combat systems warning sounded, before he saw the freighter which had been hijacked by the religious fanatics staggering under repeated blows from the SASAL weapons. They're targeting the Jedidiah Smith. Why?

  Senior Chief Imari's voice sounded. "Bridge, this is Combat. Gilgamesh is targeting the bridge and engineering sections of the freighter."

  Paul tore his eyes away from the display to shoot a quick nod and look of thanks across the compartment to the Senior Chief. I should've been focusing on that, too, instead of being shocked into just watching.

  "Combat, this is the captain. That freighter should've been knocked out by the first volley. Why are they still shooting at it?"

  "Unknown, Captain. Gilgamesh 's fire is shifting to other portions of the hull, now."

  The answer came to Paul in a flash, perhaps because of his remembrance of Dresden earlier in the evening. "They're trying to kill everyone aboard."

  Garcia and Imari both stared at Paul. Then Garcia flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Tell the captain."

  "Sir, I'm just guessing-"

  "Tell the captain!"

  "Yes, sir. Bridge, this is Combat. Assess the Gilgamesh is attempting to kill everyone onboard the Smith." That should include at least some of the Smith 's crew as well as the people who'd been holding them hostage. Apparently the SASAL ship was willing to sacrifice the innocent crew members in order to ensure the hostage takers were eliminated.

  The reply took a moment. "Thank you, Combat. Unfortunately, I think you're right."

  The alert sounded again as the Michaelson 's combat systems made another announcement. "Alliance ship Saladin is firing."

  Once again eyes jumped to the displays, watching the combat systems highlight the almost invisible particle beams and lasers leaping from the other warship, and trying to determine the targets.

  "It's the asteroid," someone said.

  Any sense of relief Paul felt at his own ship not being the target vanished as he watched damage markers pop up on structures located on the asteroid within line of sight of the Saladin. As the asteroid rotated beneath the other ship, new targets became available and were shattered by the barrage.

  Paul felt his hands clenching uselessly, unable to think of anything he could do. By his side, Garcia was rigid with anger as he watched the destruction. We can't do anything. Captain Hayes must be feeling even worse than we are, if that's possible. Paul saw the enlisted sailors staring at him with confusion. Unaware of the orders restricting the ship from acting, they were wondering why the Michaelson wasn't doing something. And even now he couldn't tell them.

  A speaker came to life. Paul instantly recognized Captain Hayes' voice, even as he realized he was listening to a message sent to the other ships. "South Asian Alliance Ships Gilgamesh and Saladin, this is the USS Michaelson. Cease fire immediately. Over."

  Garcia's lips stretched into an ugly grin. "Good one. He didn't threaten them or threaten to do anything. He just told them to stop. The orders don't say we can't do that."

  But the SASAL ships ignored the transmission, not replying and seemingly unworried by the presence of the Michaelson. The Gilgamesh had finally abandoned its death strikes at the helpless freighter and had joined in the bombardment of the asteroid. Paul watched more and more damage symbols appearing on settler structures, feeling sick inside. Involuntarily wrenching his eyes from the surface of the asteroid, Paul focused for a moment on the wreck of the Jedidiah Smith. Then he blinked and looked again. The wreck's moving. How can it be moving? The hits from the Gilgamesh couldn't have imparted enough momentum… Venting. "Bridge, this is Combat. The Jedidiah Smith is being pushed out of position by venting of gases and fuel."

  There was a brief pause, then the captain's voice came again, the furious tone in contrast to his words. "Good catch. Where's it going?"

  Paul frantically ran some extrapolations. "The wreck looks like it's falling off to starboard and down toward the asteroid surface. The trajectory is still shifting. Unable to tell if it'll clear the asteroid." He didn't bother saying what would happen if the wreck got in the way of the asteroid, let alone what that would do to anyone still miraculously surviving onboard the Smith and anyone on the asteroid's surface where the Smith impacted.

  "That does it! There's one other thing we can do and we'll damn well do it. Combat, I want a course to put us between the Gilgamesh and the surface of that asteroid."

  Paul hesitated, unsure what he'd heard, and listened as Garcia questioned the order. "Captain? Between the Gilgamesh and the asteroid?"

  "Yes! We're going to block their line of fire. I may not be able to do anything else, but we can damn well do that! We'll see if those bastards are willing to shoot through us."

  Senior Chief Imari signaled she was working the problem, so Paul just tried to keep track of what else was happening. Even if we can block the Gilgames
h, that still leaves the Saladin with a clear shot — The thought hadn't finished forming when he heard the captain broadcasting again, this time on the movement coordination frequency.

  "All ships, this is the USS Michaelson. I intend placing my ship between the asteroid and those ships firing upon its surface. I say again, I am maneuvering to interpose myself between the asteroid and those ships firing upon its surface. Out."

  General quarters sounded, the strident bongs of the alarm echoing through the compartments of the ship and bringing the Michaelson to the highest state of battle readiness. "General quarters, general quarters," the bosun on the bridge recited. "All hands to battle stations. Set airtight integrity condition Zebra." Those members of the crew still sleeping were shocked awake, grabbing uniforms and racing to their combat duty stations. The sounds of the ventilation fans changed as the ship automatically sealed off compartments and shifted to local air purifiers.

  Paul pulled on the survival suit stowed near his seat, rapidly fastening the seals even as he scanned Combat to ensure all of his sailors were suiting up. The hatch to Combat cycled open and a last few operations specialists pulled themselves hastily inside, resealing the hatch in their wake, then launched themselves on direct routes across the compartment to their duty stations, depending on helping hands from their already strapped-in comrades to guide them. Senior Chief Imari swung her index finger from sailor to sailor, checking each one's presence and that they were in their survival suits, then gave Paul a quick thumbs up. Paul turned to look at Commander Garcia, who'd strapped himself into an observer's seat nearby. "Combat is manned and ready, sir."

  Garcia nodded gruffly, his attention focused on the situation displays.

  Paul took an instant to breath in deeply and calm his thoughts, then checked the Michaelson 's weapons status on his display. No change. We're not getting ready to fight. But we are getting ready to deal with anything else that might happen.

  Maneuvering alerts sounded as the Michaelson 's thrusters fired, pushing the ship around to a new heading. Paul's body slammed against the straps as the acceleration forces jerked around everything inside the ship. He watched the projected course track which had sprung to life, seeing it for the series of compromises it was. Momentum and mass were the problem. Going too fast to get into position would make it impossible to stop in time and stay in position. Just how much slower to go was a matter of judgment. The captain's judgment. Paul knew that as the Michaelson came around the other ships would be quickly figuring out exactly where she was going and how fast she'd get there.

  But what good blocking only one ship's fire would do…

  A woman's voice came on the communications circuit, its light British accent sounding unnaturally calm under the circumstances. "All ships, this is HMS Lord Nelson. We are maneuvering as well. All ships are requested to remain clear of us."

  Captain Hayes' demand came on the heels of the Nelson 's captain's announcement. "Where's the Nelson going, Combat?"

  I don't know yet! Paul thought desperately. He knew the captain knew they needed to see the Nelson start moving to even guess on her course, but he also knew the captain didn't want to hear that now. "Working on it, sir," he replied.

  But at that instant another message arrived on a secure communications circuit. "USS Michaelson, this is HMS Lord Nelson. We estimate you are placing yourselves between Gilgamesh and its targets. We will position ourselves to block the fire of Saladin. Is this agreeable? Over."

  Hayes' response held the first note of joy Paul had detected this night. "Absolutely, Captain Vitali. Michaelson welcomes the actions of Lord Nelson. Over."

  "Lord Nelson was never one to hesitate in the face of a need for action, Captain Hayes. The Royal Navy can scarcely do otherwise than live up to his reputation. Out."

  "Thank God for the Brits," Garcia muttered.

  The Michaelson 's maneuvering systems fired again, pitching the ship around and jerking her crew against their restraints. Paul shook his head and blinked to clear his vision, then looked back at his display. " Gilgamesh is maneuvering."

  Garcia studied the display, then grunted. "He's trying to sidestep us. Captain, the Gilgamesh — "

  "I've got it," Hayes replied, his voice cool now. "They're complicating our move to block their line of fire to the asteroid, but that's all." Thrusters fired again, augmented by the Michaelson 's main drive. Paul rolled with the forces pulling at him, grateful that he was experienced enough at space operations that his stomach could handle the erratic shifts and sudden returns to zero gravity.

  Combat systems emitted several short, sharp cracking sounds to warn of shots from the Gilgamesh coming close to the Michaelson as the SASAL ship tried to keep pounding targets on the asteroid. The Gilgamesh 's energy weapons didn't make any actual sound as they blazed past too close for comfort through the vacuum of space, but system designers had realized that the fastest and most effective way of alerting a crew to incoming fire was to simply simulate sounds that might be made by such weapons if they could be heard. Paul, trying not to duck at the sounds, realized the idea worked very well indeed.

  He checked the read-outs on his display and felt himself sweating. The shots had been far too close, less than five kilometers away, a distance the Michaelson covered in seconds at her current velocity. If those SASAL ships keep trying to shoot past us, they run a real risk of accidentally hitting us, even if it's only a graze on our hull. The thought brought a surge of anticipation. If they hit us, we can shoot back. That'll stop this. Caught up in the battle, Paul momentarily forgot his chances of dying in a battle with the SASAL ships. Then he remembered and felt the heaviness inside him again.

  Another alarm sounded, the high-pitched squeal of the collision alarm. "Warning," the Michaelson 's maneuvering systems stated. "Current track will bring the ship inside asteroid approach limits. Closest point of approach on current track will be-"

  The warning cut off abruptly, telling Paul that the captain had ordered it to be shut off. Despite all the activity, his mind conjured up a brief image of a court-martial in progress and a trial counsel pointing to a diagram with a point labeled "Captain shuts off maneuvering system warning." No. We're not going to hit it. We're just getting too damned close for comfort. That's all.

  Another set of symbols and a probability cone sprang onto Paul's display. The Nelson was moving. "Captain, this is Combat. Confirm the Brits are underway and heading to get between the Saladin and the asteroid."

  The captain's response was once again drowned out, this time by another incoming transmission. "All ships, this is the Alsace. We are maneuvering. Request all ships remain clear." Then, on the heels of that announcement. "This is the Heavenly Mountain. We are maneuvering."

  Paul felt his guts tightening. All those ships swinging close by each other and close to the giant menace of the asteroid. Which way were the Franco-Germans and the Northern Chinese heading? Out away from the mess or -

  The collision alarm stuttered into life and Michaelson 's warning systems spoke again. "Warning. Multiple ships maneuvering along projected course close to current position. Unable to calculate closest points of approach-"

  The alarm and warning shut off, doubtless again in response to orders from the captain. Paul didn't blame him. He felt a sort of stunned fascination as he gazed at the maneuvering display, watching the overlapping course projections cluttering nearby space, the firing tracks from the SASAL ships, the looming presence of the asteroid, and the assessments of what was happening on the asteroid's surface. What a goat rope. What a gawdawful goat rope. This can't get any -

  "Watch the Smith!" someone yelled. Paul half-turned to snarl at the offender for yelling, then halted, his eyes back on the wreck of the freighter. Against the much faster moving actions of the warships, the freighter's slow, staggering path had been easy to overlook. But its venting gases had carried the wreck further down toward the asteroid and not far enough to the side. The Jedidiah Smith was fairly large as human spacecraft went, b
ut its mass was nothing more than roadkill in the path of the asteroid's majestic tumble. Paul watched, horrified, as the freighter fell slowly down to meet the equally gradual movement of the millions of tons of asteroid, until the freighter merged with the rock for a moment before breaking into scores of fragments hurled outward from the point of collision.

  "Captain, this is Combat. The Smith has collided with the rock. We have multiple fragments from the Smith being projected outward. Some are closing on our intended track." On the already cluttered display, the paths of the wreckage cut straight across the areas several of the warships were approaching. Paul jerked his head up in momentary shock as the overhead lights dimmed, then he fixed his eyes on his display to check weapons status. The Michaelson was finally powering up her main batteries and close-in defenses. To deal with the wreckage. Hitting any pieces heading for us will divert them… quite likely toward another ship's path. And if somehow by some miracle someone on the Smith had survived the firing from the Gilgamesh and the collision with the asteroid, then the defensive fire from the other ships would surely kill them.

  The maneuvering drives fired again, then several more times, and the main drive chimed in with a quick, massive slam that checked the Michaelson 's movement and left her drifting unsteadily across the area directly between the Gilgamesh and the asteroid. Paul waited, trying to control his breathing, waiting to see whether Gilgamesh would try to slam shots past the Michaelson and risk hitting the American ship. They don't know we can't fire on them unless they hit us. If they do hit us, will the captain fire on them? Will they take the risk of hitting us?

  They didn't. The Gilgamesh 's weapons fell silent as Michaelson 's thrusters kept kicking in from various angles to cause sudden changes in the Michaelson 's course and position so that the SASAL ship couldn't predict where the American ship would be from moment to moment. The Lord Nelson skidded into position between Saladin and the asteroid, braking hard with remarkable precision, and the Saladin stopped firing as well. The maneuvering display began to lose its insane web of projected courses as some of the ships settled in to new positions. Nothing and no one seemed to be headed for collision with Michaelson at the moment, though a lot of things were too close for Paul's peace of mind.