“We do, sir,” Michelle replied. “Four cores turned back toward Sol and engaged their FTL engines since arrival, approximately one every forty minutes.”
Absen rubbed his neck, thinking. “They’re going home, or elsewhere…why?”
“The cores are of little value in a fight,” Michelle reminded him. “They’re preserving valuable assets.”
“Evidence of discipline. The Archons aboard must not care about acquiring territory. They’re acting more like a professional military force and less like barbarian tribes this time. Not good.”
“If the rest of them keep departing, they will also undoubtedly carry reports back as the battle progresses.”
Absen said, “Damn. We have to deny them any further intel. The more we let them see of us, the more prepared they will be next time.”
Michelle remained silent, letting him think.
Eventually the admiral spoke. “Run me an analysis of TF Alpha’s effectiveness without Conquest, after repairs.”
Numbers and graphs appeared in Absen’s holoscreen within seconds. Michelle said, “Combat power is synergistic. This ship represents twenty percent of the task force’s weapons, and its absence will degrade fleet effectiveness by almost thirty percent.”
“Damn. We can’t do that.” Absen lifted his hand, unconsciously counting on his fingers as he mumbled to himself. “Pulse in. Fire. Pulse to the next core. Fire. Pulse out. Recharge for about sixty minutes. We can do it.”
“Do what?” Captain Scoggins said, stepping up to the flag chair.
“I’ll show you.”
***
One TacDrive pulse back to Earth took less than seven minutes realtime. In fact, maneuvering on conventional drive to dock with the waiting orbital shipyards took more time.
Mobs of exosuited workers and hundreds of grabships worked like racing pit crews to slap on waiting point defense modules by the thousands. Magnetics held them in place while tankers vomited sticky foam that hardened in minutes, covering hastily laid cabling connecting the weapons systems.
The most vital of lost sensors were also replaced, and legions of shiny new warbots marched straight from their cargo ships onto the waiting vessels of war, not even bothering to enter the airlocks. Keeping them on the hulls meant some would be destroyed in TacDrive or battle, but the numbers told the story. Keeping them in place to repel Scourges would be worth it in time and Marine lives.
The crews remained in VR and worked as best they could from there, using telefactors and directing repair bots, or coordinating with the external workers. On Conquest’s bridge, Absen reviewed the overall situation and issued instructions to the rest of his forces.
Jupiter and the military production facilities there remained intact and safe, one tremendous side benefit of the enemy’s necessary emergence near Sol. It would take days under conventional drive to get there, and unless the Scourge changed their objectives, the battle would be over long before.
Therefore, Absen had long ago stripped the facilities there of all combat forces. Jupiter’s small orbital weapons platforms had been moved to Lunar orbits, the better to cover the heavy lasers mounted on the bones of the destroyed Weapon. The previous Scourge attack had demolished it, but left the deeply buried thermal core tap intact, providing exawatts of power to the new beam projectors.
He’d also had the PVNs pumping out point defense modules as fast as they could. A freighter full of several hundred of the things unloaded every few hours, and then hauled ass back to pick up more. Those not needed to top off stores for ship repair were slapped onto one of the hundreds of orbiting asteroids.
During that hour, the worst casualties were transferred to medical shuttles headed for planetside hospitals. The ships also took on hundreds of thousands of tons of fuel and other supplies.
“This is going to be tricky,” Captain Scoggins said from Absen’s elbow.
“Not that tricky,” the admiral replied. “We’ll stop well short of the next swarm, leaving lots of margin for error.”
“That will give them time to prepare too. Is killing those cores really worth it?”
“Yes. If all you kill is five-meter targets, the five hundred meter ones will eventually get you.”
Scoggins snorted. “That sounds like Bull.”
“I hope you’re referring to our esteemed Marine commander, rather than scoffing at my orders.”
She smiled. “I am.”
“Then you’re right. I picked the saying up from him. The point is, we can do both. Kill cores and fight swarms.”
“You’re stretching us thin, sir.”
“I know.” Absen looked up from his chair at his flag captain’s face. “You doing all right? Can’t read people very well in VR.”
“I’m good, sir. We’ll all be fine until we come out of it. Then we’ll need rehab.”
“Then we won’t come out of it until we’ve won.” Or until we’re dead, he didn’t vocalize.
“Why not have everyone with TacDrives kill cores?” Scoggins asked.
“Conquest is the only ship that has a powerful enough main weapons array to destroy a mothership in one blow.”
“Or we could use Exploders. Conserve pulse energy, do it faster.”
Absen shook his head. “No. We need to save them all for the big nasty. We have no idea what kind of weapons it mounts, but if this is their capital ship, then its size alone means it might have stuff that can take us out in one good shot. It’s as large as Desolator and at least twice as massive, not counting its inflated skin. The swarms don’t scare me anymore; we’ve figured them out. That thing,” he stabbed his finger at the enemy superdreadnought’s icon, “is making me shit bricks.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, boss.”
Absen turned bleak eyes to his screen. “In front of the troops you have to project confidence, Melissa, but we’re commanders. We have to prepare for the worst.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“They’re clearing us for departure, Captain,” Johnstone said. “Admiral, we’re the first to leave, as you instructed. Sixty minutes on the nose, seventy for the rest of the task force.”
Absen nodded. “I’ve already given the captains their instructions. Pass the word that we’ll see them at the rendezvous point. Captain Scoggins, you may proceed.”
Scoggins turned to Okuda. “Set us up, Helm.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.” Okuda’s fingers played over his boards. “Ready.”
“Sensors?”
“Ready,” Fletcher said.
“Weapons?”
“Ready, skipper,” said Ford.
“Go.”
Okuda arched his wrist and poised a finger. “Pulse in three, two, one, mark.”
A brief moment of TacDrive washed over Absen as the displays froze.
“Dropped,” Okuda reported. “Core dead ahead. Range, ten thousand two hundred kilometers.” Of course, the helmsman was able to make sense of the unscrambling sensor feeds more quickly than even Fletcher, as he lived half his life in VR space.
The holotank confirmed Okuda’s report scant seconds later.
Ford said, “Target acquired.”
“Fire,” said Scoggins flatly, her eyes intent on the display.
The weapons officer stabbed at the firing key with his index finger and Conquest shuddered as the invisible electric fists of her three massive particle beams converged on the Scourge mothership core. Untold numbers of protons slammed into its skin, some passing through to reach inside, causing everything it touched to flash to instant nuclear fusion.
The resulting sun-hot shockwave cooked everything inside the core before the beam bored through and out the other side. Twin jets of superheated plasma briefly turned the fat disc into a pinwheel firework as its tough armor contained most of the combustion.
“Target destroyed,” Fletcher reported.
“Helm, set up the next run.”
“On it, Skipper,” Okuda replied.
Absen took a look at Conquest’s p
ower reserves, now at about sixty-five percent. A TacDrive pulse took about twenty percent, and the main weapons array around fifteen to fire.
Reducing the power of the salvo might squeeze a few more percent out of the equation, but power for TacDrive pulses was all front-loaded, costing an enormous amount to launch the ship to lightspeed but very little to keep it going. No way to economize there.
Okuda’s fingers played over his boards again. “Ready.”
“Sensors?”
“Ready,” Fletcher said.
“Weapons?”
“Ready, skipper,” said Ford.
“Do it.”
Okuda caressed his keys. “Pulse in three, two, one, mark.”
The timeless moment of pulse passed.
“We’re out,” Okuda reported. “Core dead ahead. Range, nine thousand three hundred kilometers.”
“Getting sloppy, Mister Okuda,” Scoggins said.
“Just rigging the pool, Skipper. I need the cash.”
Absen chuckled to himself. The bridge crew maintained a running betting pool on how close Okuda would come to his intended exit point.
“Target acquired,” Ford sang out.
“Kill it,” Scoggins replied, and the main array drilled its triple beam through the second mothership core.
“Good job, everyone,” Absen said. “That’s two cores that won’t be going home to their nests. Now let’s rejoin the task force.”
Moments later, her power reserves below ten percent, Conquest emerged one hundred thousand kilometers in front of their target swarm. Five thousand kilometers away floated the rest of Task Force Alpha, and she hastened to intercept them and take her position.
Both the flagship and the others could have cut it closer, but Absen’s greatest nightmare was of a miscalculation that caused a TacDrive collision, annihilating both ships. Even AI control could not overcome the slight quantum variations in timing, and it was a lucky pulse that didn’t miss by more than a hundred kilometers.
This time, the demolition of the swarm went like clockwork. With judicious maneuvers, Absen stretched out the enemy forces and defeated them in detail with his wall of battle formation and phalanx of point defense fire. Continuous course alterations dramatically reduced the hit percentage of the enemy’s plasma torpedoes and fighter fire, and when the time came to pulse in reverse to close with the Scourge gunships, Conquest had recharged her capacitors enough to join in the slaughter.
“I think we’ve broken the code,” Scoggins said with a smile. “Looks like the Meme have too.”
Absen looked at the holotank and nodded. “Five swarms down in four hours, and Task Force Charlie’s tally will accelerate as everyone gets closer to Earth and the distance between swarms falls. But,” he stroked his chin, “we have to assume they’ll come up with countertactics.”
Ford snorted. “What can they do, sir? With our TacDrive, they can’t run. We can attack when and where we choose. They’re not faster than we are, and their weapons can’t magically get more effective.”
“Never assume the enemy is stupider than you are, Ford,” Absen said.
“Yeah, that would be a stretch,” Johnstone muttered.
“Hey!” Ford cried. “Shut the f–”
“What I mean is,” Absen cut in smoothly with a rising voice, “there must be ways for them to slow down the slaughter. You want to be a tactician, Commander Ford? What would you do in their place to thwart us?”
Ford’s bulldog face scrunched up as he thought aloud. “Can’t close with us. Their assault craft are too slow. Can’t get away from us either. Maybe…spread out?”
Absen nodded. “Yes. That’s what I’ve been expecting. I hope it will take them a while to think of it. So as soon as we have a pulse ready, we’ll hit the next swarm and recharge as we fight.”
Chapter 19
Emperor Markis the First – and the last, he resolved – entered his situation room surrounded by four Stewards, unmistakable in their whites. He himself affected a simple suit of navy blue, a throwback to his days as Chairman of the Free Communities and, eventually, the Council of Earth.
He’d led Earth for almost a century during the long, grueling war against the Meme – a war Earth had lost, despite his best efforts.
Not this time, Markis told himself as he waved the members of his cabinet to their seats. Second chances were few enough in life, and he wasn’t going to take this one for granted.
This time, if we lose, everyone here dies.
Not on my watch.
“Lieutenant Commander Dychauk, let’s hear it.” Markis gestured for the young EarthFleet officer to proceed with her briefing.
Face it, DJ: they all seem young.
“Yes, ah, sir.” She almost called him Your Majesty again, but Markis had ordered her emphatically to cease and desist, at least for the duration of the conflict.
It seemed a step in the right direction.
Dychauk continued, “In the four hours since your last briefing, the Fleet has been successful in destroying eight swarms and four mothership cores. The revised ETA for enemy forces is now almost forty hours from now, and may be pushed back further as swarms are destroyed.”
“Good news, then,” Markis said.
“Mostly, sir. However, the enemy flagship is still, ah…unaddressed. I have no new information about it from intelligence channels; our spy drones can’t get too close. We’ve already lost a dozen of them trying to approach.”
“Admiral McInnes, do you have anything from Absen?”
The dour Scot shook his head. “Nae, sir, nothing of significance. The Fleet Admiral is oot there fighting, as should be. Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re no headquarters, no matter what ye call us.” He pointed a finger at the ceiling. “It’s all up there.”
“So he’s not giving you regular updates?”
“Aye, he is, sir, but yon lassie knows everything I do. If Admiral Absen has twigged to something else, he’s not telling us.”
Markis stroked his jaw. “More likely there’s nothing to tell. I’m sure that as the situation clarifies, he’ll pass on anything significant.”
McInnes nodded, but said nothing more.
“That’s all I have, sir,” Dychauk said. “Lieutenant General Bahadur will now brief you on the ground situation.”
A short Ghurka in a Ground Forces of Earth uniform took the podium with an ever-present grin, the hallmark of his people. Markis knew that Nepalese like him had been recruited into the armies of the British Empire since the early 1800s, and had fought with tremendous distinction over the last four centuries.
“Thank you, Commander,” the general said with a musical accent. “I am very happy to remind the Emperor that our ground forces are much better prepared for the Scourge than last time. We are basing our strategy on the principle of the tactical defensive, followed by a strategic offensive. This is possible because of the Scourges’ unrelenting aggressiveness, making them predictable.”
Pointing at his first slide, Bahadur continued, “Each city and major town on the planet has been made into a fortress, with rings of gun emplacements, minefields and Scourgeling pits. We call these strongpoints our anvils. Every inhabitant who can carry a weapon will be armed, and the life signs of the people inside the perimeter will attract the enemy into kill zones.”
Markis leaned forward to examine the graphic depicting a typical defense. “But what’s going to keep them from overwhelming these fortresses? If anything close to the numbers we saw last time land, we’ll lose half our cities and the population with them. Our static defenses can’t resist so many by themselves.”
“You are correct, sir, which brings me to the hammers to our anvils. First, we are emplacing our Troll tank divisions in bivouacs away from the major cities. They should be strong enough to fend off most landings nearby, as we believe the Scourge will concentrate on the population centers. Once they have secured their perimeters, the tank divisions will move out in assault formations using traditional doctrine
in order to crush the enemy from the flanks and rear.”
“Traditional doctrine? Whose doctrine? I’m no cav soldier, but I do know a little about conventional warfare,” Markis said.
“Forgive me, sir. I meant what you might call Soviet armored doctrine, which has been demonstrated as the most effective manner to organize tactical mechanized warfare.”
“Really?” The Emperor’s voice turned skeptical, even arch.
“Oh, yes sir, most assuredly sir. This has been demonstrated by the outstanding record compiled by the OPFOR brigade at the old United States’ National Training Center, Fort Irwin, California. They were seldom defeated in battle, normally crushing their enemies with few casualties, as we shall crush ours.”
The room broke out in spontaneous applause, and Markis wondered at the naïveté of his staff, all of whom had lived under Meme rule. He’d tried to find unbroken military men and women from before the Third Holocaust, but the only ones he’d located were tainted by deep involvement in the insurgency. Those he’d interviewed seemed to harbor unreasoning antipathy for the new government based entirely on the alliance with the Meme; they had hated so long they weren’t able to let it go.
Markis wondered how history might have been altered had the U.S., Britain and France not put aside their anger and revulsion at Nazi Germany’s atrocities in favor of the Marshall Plan and a policy of rebuilding central Europe.
The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him your friend, Markis thought. Even Spooky had understood that.
“We become what we hate,” the Vietnamese highlander had also once told him. He’d said, “In order to destroy your enemies, you must understand them, for only in understanding them can you defeat them.” Typical Zen bullshit, but it had sunk in anyway, and seemed to make more and more sense the longer Markis lived.
I’ve always tried to abandon my hatred, not because it’s unjust or undeserved, but because it’s unproductive. I don’t have the luxury of hating anyone anymore, because it clouds my judgment.
“Sir?”
Bahadur was staring at his emperor, along with others in the room, and Markis waved a diffident hand. “Sorry. We old farts get lost in thought sometimes. Please continue explaining how we’ll ride to glorious victory.”
Conquest and Empire (Stellar Conquest Series Book 5) Page 18
