"Yes, sir."
Jackson felt the pitch of the engines change and heard the ship groan as the thrusters fired, pushing her against inertia at the same time the engines were pushing against the pull of the gas giant they were blasting by. He idly wondered what the locals called it. Given how many systems humans had colonized, only the life-bearing worlds were officially named, the others left to the local government to name, or not name, as they saw fit.
Soon the Blue Jacket began complaining in earnest about the opposing forces she was being subjected to. The buffeting was so violent that Jackson considered ordering his crew into their restraints. As the planet streaked by and out of view the engines came back up and they were flung away from the gas giant at incredible velocity. The angle of deflection they'd achieved wasn't all that extreme and they would now be in a position to use the sixth planet, another, considerably larger gas giant, to come about on their final course towards Nuovo Patria.
The problem was that they'd be closing on the planet against its orbital path, not chasing it. This drastically shortened their firing window assuming they could even get a clear shot at the enemy ship. Jackson briefly toyed with the idea of trying Barrett's trick shot again with the solid-core shells, but the exploding warp emitter taking out their high-power array had essentially eliminated that as an option. They would be quite close before they would even be able to get a solid lock on the alien ship, for too short a time to fire and then reload with the high-explosive shells as well as recharge the capacitor banks.
"Tactical, what missiles do we have left?" Jackson asked after a moment of thought. "I know we're out of Avengers, but there has to be something left."
"We have seven Shrikes and ten Mark VIII strategic nukes," Barrett said, reading off the display to his right.
"The Shrikes won't be effective at this closure speed and we know the nukes are useless," Celesta said.
"Well, let's look at that for a moment," Jackson said, tapping his fingers against his chin as he always did when trying to work through a problem in his head. "The warheads are fake, but the missiles are still the same that the ship was originally loaded with. The Fleet crews didn't bother to even take them out of the cradles when CENTCOM made the swap."
"I don't see how this helps us," she admitted.
"Those missiles are far more sophisticated than the dinky ship-to-ship stuff we've been lobbing at the alien ship so far and they're multistage," Jackson said. "Each missile has three sets of booster engines."
"While that's fascinating, sir, I still don't see what a missile without a warhead will accomplish no matter how advanced it is," she said.
"OPS!" Jackson barked, making Lieutenant Davis jump. "What's the projected time until our final course correction?"
"Fourteen hours," she said.
"Engineering, Bridge," Jackson said, stabbing the intercom button forcefully with his finger. "Daya, get your ass up here." The bridge crew stared at Jackson as if he'd lost his mind. They'd never seen him so brusque and unprofessional, much less over an open intercom channel.
"Lieutenant Davis, keep an eye out for any movement from the enemy. You have the bridge for now," he said, ignoring their looks. "Lieutenant Barrett and Commander Wright, you're with me."
Ten minutes later the three of them, and a visibly winded Daya Singh, were seated at the table in the conference room just aft of the bridge. Jackson ignored them as he began bringing up the specs for the MkVIII missiles they had sitting in the forward magazine.
"Lieutenant Commander Singh," he said, "tell me what explosives we have on board, or could improvise, that would fit in a cylinder five meters in diameter by thirteen meters high."
Singh just looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Have you been drinking, Captain?" he asked.
Jackson winced slightly at an accusation that struck a little too close to home even if it had been in jest, but ignored it. "Not even any of the rotgut your crew makes down in reactor room four," he said instead. "Now, what have you got for me?"
Over the next two and half hours the four officers argued, compromised, and finally agreed on a plan that the most optimistic of them thought could turn the tide of the battle while the most pessimistic felt it had an equally good chance of destroying the Blue Jacket before they even made it anywhere close to Nuovo Patria.
****
"You, you, you, and you. Follow me," Singh said. He'd walked into the break room just outside of the Engineering Operations Center and seemed to pick four specialists out at random. In actuality he knew they were among the more bright of the junior enlisted he had at his disposal. It was exceedingly convenient that the four had been trying to hide from their supervisor in the break room when he happened to walk by.
"What have you got for us, Cheng?" one of the specialists asked. The term "Cheng" was slang for Chief Engineer from so far back nobody could remember its exact origins. It had fallen out of disuse between officers but the enlisted crews still used it as a sign of respect. The name was one of those holdovers that had stuck around as individual ships were organized into fleets and a burgeoning Terran Starfleet had to decide what rank structure it would use, which traditions to allow to stay and which to outright ban.
"Special project," Singh said. "Straight from the captain. Get your asses up to the forward magazine and meet with a Specialist Halsey and her crew from Armament. She'll let you know what needs to be done."
"This gonna help us kick some alien ass, sir?" another of the spacers asked.
"If it works," Singh nodded. "This could be a game changer, but I need you to be at your best."
"You can count on that, sir," the spacer said. Singh noticed the young man was almost vibrating in his boots as a result of the stim pack he'd ingested. He hoped their supervisors were watching their intake of the stuff closely. Owens had been pretty adamant that nobody overdose on the stim packs as they were strong enough to cause serious health problems if abused.
"Good. I'll be joining you myself after I pass some instructions on and check with the other groups," Singh said. "Go. Now. I'll let your boss know where I've sent you."
He watched them go before turning and walking into the Operations Center. There were three other groups he had to get moving simultaneously if the plan had any chance of coming together in time. While he had serious misgivings about Jack's plan, he had to admit that on the off chance it worked it would be a devastating blow to the enemy.
Chapter 21
"Commander Wright, we're nearly to our next course change," Jackson said, his voice conveying a calm he did not feel.
"I'm well aware of that, Captain," Celesta's harried voice came back. "We're running the final test now before the program is uploaded. This wasn't as easy as changing a few parameters. We've essentially completely reprogrammed the weapons’ entire software load."
"I fully appreciate the difficulty of your task, Commander," Jackson said patiently. "However, we are now committed to our current timetable."
"We'll be ready," she said shortly. "XO, out."
"Lieutenant Davis, what's the status on the cargo hatch crew?" Jackson asked.
"Aft cargo bay has been cleared and the first four missiles are in position," Davis said. "The other six are on their way down the port access tube from the magazine. Engineering crews say it will be a tight fit but they should be able to queue the rest up for a quick reload."
"Very good," Jackson said, leaning back. The plan had so many moving parts and they had so little time that he had to try and relax and trust that his crew was doing everything they possibly could to ensure success.
The only sticking point so far had been the aft cargo bay since it was too small to fit all ten missiles into it. It was really only a staging area that was meant to receive material for Engineering from service ships or docks that required the Blue Jacket to back her stern into an airlock. The MkVIIIs were almost thirty-five meters long, meant to be fired from the periphery of a system before the ship hauled ass to its exit jump-point, and all ten wo
uldn't fit in the small area. Unfortunately, the regular launch tubes for the missiles, two on the ventral surface just aft of the nose, were forward-facing and wouldn't work for their needs. They'd had to improvise and modify the rear of the ship at the same time crews were modifying the missiles themselves, while another team simultaneously rewrote the weapons' operating code. It might not work at all, but at least it kept everyone's mind occupied as they closed the distance to Nuovo Patria.
"Coms, are we still receiving signals from the planet?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. It's mostly still indecipherable, but it's there," Lieutenant Keller said. "I still can't get a response to direct queries."
"Could the enemy ship have found a more precise way to disrupt our communications?" Davis asked.
"That's what I'm thinking," Jackson said. "It means they're not only adapting at an exponentially faster rate, I think we're being baited towards the planet."
"That would be the only logical answer to why we're still receiving some radio signals but can't get a signal in nor get a coherent message from them," Barrett volunteered. "Could they be able to adapt in other ways?"
"Such as?" Jackson prompted.
"We've hit them twice with kinetic weapons and caused a lot of damage, sir," Barrett said, turning in his seat to face the captain. "Do you think they can adapt to defend against the cannon shells?"
"I've considered it," Jackson admitted. "But since the mag-cannons are literally the only thing on the ship that can shoot, I've dismissed it. They'll either penetrate or they won't, but we're committed to this run either way."
"Yes, sir," Barrett said, turning back in his seat to continue his attempts at locating the enemy with their degraded sensor capability.
"Bridge, Engineering," Celesta's voice came over the intercom after another forty-five minutes had passed. "We're ready down here. All ten missiles have accepted the new programming and are staged at the rear cargo hatch. Crews are in pressure suits and we've sealed off the corridors. We can evacuate the atmosphere from the area and blow the rear hatch whenever you're ready."
"Excellent work, Commander," Jackson said enthusiastically. "You are clear to proceed. Tell the crews in that cargo bay to be careful."
"Aye aye, sir."
****
"Aye aye, sir," Celesta said before releasing the intercom switch. "We're a go! Police this area! I don't want any debris in here when we pump the air out."
At her command it was all assholes and elbows as nineteen spacers scrambled around the cordoned-off area picking up even the smallest piece of loose debris they could find, while another five packed up and inventoried all the tools they'd had with them. It was another twenty minutes before Celesta and Daya Singh were inspecting the area and doing a final check on the weapons.
"You're confident in this explosive mixture?" she asked as they went down the line checking statuses.
"As confident as you likely are about the software loaded into these missiles," he responded without looking up.
"Touché."
When they'd verified everything they went and gave last minute instructions to the team of specialists wearing EVA vacuum suits before exiting the area and locking down the makeshift hatch they'd installed in the bulkhead.
"Start pumping out the atmosphere," Singh said to the spacer standing next to him with a tile in her hand. She keyed in a few commands and the pumps could be heard in the next compartment over evacuating the chamber. They'd had to expand the cargo bay to include the area around the queued-up missiles in their mobile cradles.
"We're going to have some leaks, of course, but we'll be well within the limits for the environmental systems to handle," Singh said. "We shouldn't even feel any change in pressure."
"It'll be a drop in the bucket compared to all the leaks we already have," Celesta said. "We probably look like a lopsided comet with all the air we're streaming out of the starboard side." Singh winced and she regretted her flippant comment. While she'd only just arrived on the Blue Jacket, the chief engineer had served on her for years. He had been watching his baby take a beating that he knew she wouldn't be coming back from.
"Sorry," she said.
"Eh," he waved her off. "I'm too sentimental anyway. She'll hold together long enough for us to finish our mission."
"Chamber pressure is now low enough to safely blow the aft hatch," the spacer said after thirty minutes of silence, reading the vacuum pressure off her tile.
"We're clear to blow the outer hatch," Singh said.
"Let the team in there know to stand by and then blow it in ten seconds," Celesta said.
Thirteen seconds later a sharp bang was felt through the deck as the enormous armored external hatch was explosively jettisoned from the Blue Jacket's stern. Celesta waited a tense few seconds more to give the crew inside the makeshift airlock a chance to check things over and report back.
"Deployment team reports chamber is clear, no damage to the weapons," the spacer holding the tile said. "They're ready to begin operations when you are, Commander."
"Tell them to keep their safety tethers on and stand by," Celesta said. "We'll begin our last course correction soon and then it'll be their turn."
****
"Team is in place, launch chamber is holding, we're ready down here, Captain," Celesta said over the intercom.
"Acknowledged," Jackson said. "Turn over the operation to Singh and his people and head back up. I'm going to need you up here during this last charge."
"Yes, sir."
"Nav, put a countdown for our last gravity assist on the main display," he said. "Helm, you're to continue coordinating with OPS and Nav ... no waiting on orders from me."
The gas giant loomed large on the main display as the Blue Jacket roared in for a close pass. They were already carrying so much velocity that this maneuver wouldn't gain them much speed, but it would allow them to drastically alter their trajectory without losing any speed, the only thing Jackson was really concerned about. Much more velocity and the mag-cannon turrets wouldn't be able to track the target on their pass.
"Cutting thrust and changing attitude now," the helmsman reported as he responded to a prompt on his own displays. The rumble from the three remaining main engines died away and the view on the main display shifted as he keyed the thrusters to put the ship's nose towards the planet. The small attitude thrusters weren't powerful enough to compete with their inertia so they were turning the ship so the main engines would push them through the turn, otherwise the gas giant would only alter their course slightly before they continued to shoot further away from Nuovo Patria.
"How long until we thrust back up?" Jackson asked.
"One hour and forty minutes, sir," the spacer at Nav answered. "The turn will take another thirty-five minutes."
"Very good," Jackson said, standing up and pacing, unable to contain his nervous energy any longer.
"Missile teams are good to go," Celesta said as she walked back onto the bridge. "Lieutenant Commander Singh says the atmospheric leakage is within acceptable limits and he has a tech monitoring it."
"The missiles didn't give you any trouble uploading the new software?" Jackson asked.
"They're old," she shrugged. "Probably a little older than the ship herself. But that may have worked in our favor. Once we used the bypass codes you gave us we were able to see there really wasn't much sophistication in the operating system. I'm confident our changes will work without any trouble. If anything, we've simplified it even further."
"Maybe," Jackson said. "It's still a huge unknown in our plan."
"We don't have much to work with at this point," she said. "I'm confident it will work."
"That's good enough for me," Jackson said. "OPS, tell all the department heads I want everyone in restraints once we come out of our last course correction. It could be a rough pass depending on what the enemy has in store for us."
"Yes, sir."
The bridge was quiet when the engines were throttled back up and the
ship began to shake, already pulling against the planet's gravity. Jackson watched on the stylized plot Lieutenant Davis had put up on the main display to show their progress in two dimensions, looking down on the planet. He could see their projected course and the blinking green dot that represented the Blue Jacket as her course began to arc into the system.
Harsh vibrations began, causing everyone to hold onto something for stability as the engines ran all the way up to full power and played their part in the titanic fight taking place to determine the destroyer's course. Her inertia wanted her to keep flying straight, while the planet's gravity and the engines wanted her to swing around in a wide arc. One-third of the way through the turn Jackson became concerned the ship wouldn't be able to handle the course change, much less another pass with the enemy.
"We're through," the helmsman reported even as the shaking began to subside. "Making final corrections and throttling up to full power on new course."
"This is it everyone! Look sharp!" Jackson said loudly. "Commander Wright, tell your missile teams they are clear to begin deployment."
"Aye aye, sir," Celesta said, grabbing her comlink.
****
"That's it! Tell the deployment team to begin," Singh shouted to the tech standing next to him with the tile. He was shouting over the noise of four welders working near him simultaneously since the stresses induced by their gravity-assisted course correction had popped a few seams in their makeshift missile bay. It wasn't critical enough for him to bother the bridge with the news, but he had evacuated all non-essential personnel from the area.
Inside the chamber two specialists in EVA suits walked up and shoved the first two missiles out of the hatch, the nose cones pointed in the opposite direction from which the Blue Jacket was traveling. They quickly moved the cradles to the side and aft before rolling the next two up and repeating the procedure. Soon all ten missiles had been pushed out the aft of the ship and could be seen floating just outside, the flare from the mains reflecting off the weapons' outer casings as the ship slowly accelerated from the now drifting objects. The two specialists walked to the aftmost part of the chamber before activating another pressure hatch and alerting the rest of their team they were sealed off from the main launch chamber. A moment later atmosphere began streaming in from vents in the ceiling and the pair watched the pressure climb on their internal HUDs.
Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship Page 22
