On some level, that frightened him. One of his biggest fears was the possibility of the enemy hacking their system, just as Michelle and Johnstone had done with the mothership core during Operation Bughouse. He’d been assured that the ICE protecting the cyberware would dump them back into reality before that happened, but…
Absen noticed the holotank’s chrono now seemed frozen. Eventually the seconds digit clicked over once. Other than Captain Scoggins and Michelle’s avatar, the members of the bridge crew all seemed mired in molasses, moving in slow motion. “Let’s go,” he said, turning to leave the command spaces and walking down the passageway into flag country.
Within his conference room he found sixteen people waiting. Or rather, their VR avatars waited, projected from their own ships, but the effect was identical. He suppressed all of his nagging thoughts about VR and resolved to act as if all this were real.
“Bull,” Absen said as he shook the big man’s hand. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise,” Bull rumbled.
Absen turned to Captain Huen. “Sherrie,” he said.
The woman returned his grip firmly. “This is pretty weird, sir: being able to take time out in the middle of a campaign to have a chin wag.”
“It is strange, I grant you,” he replied, and then turned to greet each of the cruiser captains in turn. “But I need ideas on how to overcome the Scourge’s latest ploy, this dispersion. Everyone take your seats, please.”
All sat down except Michelle, who took a place at the AV station and brought up the holoscreen showing the current military situation in the solar system.
“Michelle, project our discussion to the bridges and auxiliary control spaces of all the ships, and tie in all section chiefs of field grade rank so they can chime in if they need to. How much subjective time do we have?”
“As much as you want, within reason. You’re at ten to one now, which gives an easy ninety minutes.”
“Let’s start with that and see how it goes.”
“Aye aye, sir. I’ve put up a countdown in the holoscreen.”
Absen folded his hands, glancing around the room. “All right, people. The Scourges have spread out to the point we can’t kill them fast enough, though they can hardly hurt us. In roughly twenty-seven hours realtime they’ll reach Earth. How do we kill twenty-five million individual Scourge craft quickly with the forces we have?”
“We can spread out too,” replied Captain Riggin of the cruiser Loxley. “If they won’t come to us, we go to them.”
“And what happens when they converge on an unsupported cruiser?” Absen asked.
“We use TacDrive, sir. Smash our way out.”
Absen stroked his chin. “Okay, that’s one idea. Give me some more.”
“Missiles,” Captain Scoggins replied. “Go retrieve the stores in orbit around Earth and use them out here. As spread out as the Scourges are, they won’t be able to coordinate their own point defense. More of our missiles will get through.”
“Michelle,” Absen said, “How many missiles do we have available between our ships and the Earth defenses?”
“Six point six million,” the AI replied immediately.
“Enough to help, but not a total solution,” Captain Huen observed with thinned lips. “And doing so will weaken our final defense of Earth.”
“Kill them now, kill them later. It’s all the same,” Absen said. “If there were any indication these things had a breaking point, we might do things differently, but this is a pure numbers game. We have to eventually destroy them all.”
“The Archons have breaking points,” said Bull. “They’re already running.”
Absen cleared his throat. “But is there any way we can use that fact? They’re not going to recall their swarms.”
“The core that we hit during Bughouse did. Maybe we ought to try an assault of our own. Make them believe they can rescue a mothership so they’ll recall a swarm.”
Captain Scoggins shook her head and said, “With all due respect, General, that’s one hell of a costly way to slow down one, maybe two swarms. Better to simply kill the cores and run, as we’ve been doing.”
Bull frowned and fell silent, nodding slowly in apparent agreement.
“What about fighters?” asked Captain Figueroa of the cruiser Senegal. “We’ve got thousands of them based on Earth. Combined with our drones, we should be able to clean them up faster.”
“We’d be playing to the enemy’s strength,” Absen said. “Each swarm has fifty thousand Scourge fighters, not to mention gunships and assault craft. We have to fight asymmetrically, applying our strengths to their weaknesses. Besides, our fighters are manned. The casualties aren’t worth it. Not until the final battle, anyway.”
“They could use control corvettes and drones.”
“The control corvettes don’t have TacDrives yet. Same problem.”
Captain Riggin raised a hand. “How about bringing out TF Bravo? The Meme aren’t fighting with TacDrives. Why do we need them if the Scourges aren’t concentrating for the kill anyway? And with our new understanding of enemy capabilities and tactics, the smaller ships should do just fine.”
Absen felt like slapping his own forehead. He’d been so focused on his elite Task Force Alpha that he’d forgotten that TF Bravo wasn’t actually fixed in place at Earth. That fleet could sortie to meet the nearest swarm. In fact…
“Thank you, Captain Riggin. You just gave me an idea.”
***
Absen’s orders had placed all the pieces for his next chess match with a Scourge swarm, the closest one at approximately the orbit of Venus. That planet was far away, but it provided a convenient mental demarcation line about two-thirds of the distance from the sun to Earth.
In the swarm’s path ranged a ragtag fleet made up of much of Earth’s mobile defenses: the twenty-seven cruisers and frigates of Task Force Bravo along with more than forty drone control corvettes and their accompanying four-thousand-plus fighter drones.
That force should roughly equal the firepower of Conquest and her task Force Alpha, though not its mobility, so Absen wasn’t expecting heavy casualties. The problem still lay in the time it would take to kill the Scourges.
The holotank also showed the Meme of TF Charlie moving in behind the target swarm. They wouldn’t reach it in time; in fact, they weren’t trying. Their objective was the next swarm in the line of enemies stretching back toward the sun. If that group of Scourges sped up to attempt to assist their fellows, the Meme would take a heavy toll of them.
In the eight hours it had taken for the non-TacDrive EarthFleet forces to meet the enemy, Absen had brought Task Force Alpha back to the shipyards for more repairs, and then sortied Conquest alone on her TacDrive to kill twelve more mothership cores. Constitution, her main laser working again, accounted for six more.
This carnage had prompted the rest of the mothership cores to dive into the sun and escape. Afterward, it appeared no enemy FTL-capable ships remained, save the enormous superdreadnought flagship, which cruised leisurely inward in the wake of the rest of its apparently expendable swarms.
Now, Task Force Alpha lay five million kilometers – about sixteen light-seconds – spinward of the lead swarm, waiting.
“TF Bravo main weapons firing,” Ford said. The bridge crew could all see the tiny lines of holopixels lash out toward the amorphous mass of Scourges. “Not taking many out.”
“As expected,” Scoggins said. “They’re killing gnats with sledgehammers.”
“The enemy is clumping up a bit,” Fletcher said. He zoomed in on the swarm until it filled the holotank, and then stood to reach inside the simulation with a pointing finger. “Here, here…here and here. Some of the assault craft are aiming themselves at individual ships and the fighters and gunboats are forming into squadrons.”
“They can’t help themselves,” Ford crowed. “They have orders to spread out, but as soon as the fight started they began reverting to their training.”
“Or their instincts,” Doc
tor Horton said from her BioMed station. “Soldiers and Scourgelings are genetically programmed. They can hardly be called sentient until they’ve morphed into Centurions.”
“Same difference,” Ford muttered.
“Good news, anyway,” Absen said mildly.
The display showed the swarm tending to converge on their enemies, turning from a smooth fog of a million ships into groups by thousands and tens of thousands. Only the masses of point defense lasers slathered liberally onto the skins of every warship allowed them to stand against such numbers.
“Entering point defense envelope,” Fletcher reported as he took his seat again.
“Drones are moving up to support,” Ford said.
Captain Scoggins stood up to lean on the rail surrounding the holotank. “Looks like they’re holding the line. The enemy’s too thin to overcome their firepower and land.”
“Good,” Absen said. “They’ll have to either flow around, or turn to concentrate more. I’m betting on the latter.”
“Fire is thickening,” Fletcher reported. “I’m seeing some drone casualties and damage to the frigates. The cruisers seem to be taking it better.”
“Of course they are,” Scoggins said. “They’re a lot newer and have better armor.”
“Admiral Benitez is refusing the frigates,” Fletcher went on. Absen could see he was right; the smaller ships flipped briefly end for end, fired a blast of drive fusion, and then turned over again, drifting backward and allowing their heavier sister ships to bear the brunt of the incoming plasma torpedo fire.
“That’s thinning our phalanx a bit,” Scoggins said. “Still looking good, though. Sir, do we even need to jump in? Maybe we should go hit another swarm.”
Absen shook his head. “We’ll stick to the plan for now. It will reduce casualties and damage to Bravo. They can’t go speeding home for repairs the way we can.” He glanced at his holoscreen. “Let’s get in there. Pass to all ships: execute the pulse on Conquest’s mark and fire at will upon arrival.”
“Give the word, Mister Okuda,” Scoggins said.
Okuda keyed his comm. “All ships, pulse as planned in three, two, one, mark.”
The bridge electronics flickered. When they cleared, Absen could see his ships had leaped forward to within point defense range of the enemy’s flank spread far enough from each other to eliminate any chance of collision. With pre-issued orders, each vessel opened fire as soon as it was able even while advancing at flank speed under conventional drive, driving into the diffuse swarm.
Taken by surprise, the nearest enemy craft died by the thousands and continued to do so. Each EarthFleet ship, the smallest cruiser of which massed more than a hundred seagoing battleships of old, became a moving fortress cutting swaths of hot light through the diluted Scourge fleet.
Caught between the wall of Task Force Bravo and the rampaging ships of Alpha, the Scourges dissolved in confusion. They didn’t break so much as lose all cohesion, each craft turning directly to attack its nearest enemy, but with so much space between them, they couldn’t achieve the necessary concentration to overcome EarthFleet firepower. The few stragglers that did get through to crash-land on the hulls of the larger ships were quickly cut down by waiting warbots.
“Beautiful,” Ford breathed as he stared at his board. “More than ninety percent kills in less than half an hour. We’ve got them now.”
“No, Mister Ford,” Absen replied. “The game goes on. This was merely the latest move.”
Chapter 21
Council Archon Ikthor sat robed in splendor aboard his flagship Exterminator, watching the battle on colorful multilevel displays that flashed and swirled with colors unknown to the infestations. This breadth of visual sense demonstrated only one among many superiorities of the Brood over the animals around them.
His Battle Direction Archons ringed him, each of sixteen stations visible from his throne. Unfortunately, the plethora of available information was not particularly pleasing.
“The infestation is stubborn, Council Archon,” his most senior Director said. “Another swarm has been neutralized, despite its dispersion.”
“Don’t waste euphemisms on me, Raklog. Your position is secure.”
“Yes, Council Archon. I shall correct myself. Another swarm has been largely annihilated. The enemy ships’ weapons are obviously optimized against our small craft, and the mobility of their premier squadron is inescapable. In this, their technology is superior to ours.”
Ikthor waved one clawed limb. “We have prepared for their attacks, knowing full well that our casualties would be steep. As long as Exterminator survives, it shall perform the function for which it was named. Nothing can stand against it. The Brood shall prevail.”
“Of course, Council Archon.”
“Stay the course,” Ikthor shone in all directions. “As we press the infestation toward its nest-world, it will become increasingly desperate to attack this flagship, knowing it spells their doom. When they do, we will annihilate them. I shall add this system to my domain, and I will choose one of you to rule it in my name. Therefore, be diligent.”
***
Absen realized Commander Ford turned out to be more right than wrong in his optimism. With Bravo to fix them and Alpha to flank them, aided by the Meme in Charlie to guard against reinforcement as well as engaging as many of the enemy as it could, nineteen more swarms had been demolished.
However, Task Force Bravo had been beaten up, each encounter inevitably grinding away some of its weaponry, armor and drones. Now, the sixty-seven manned ships fled for Earth at their best speed. With seven more hours to go before the flagship and its mega-swarm arrived, they would have just enough time to make hasty repairs before the final stand above Earth.
The TacDrive-equipped ships of TF Alpha had, of course, bolted for home immediately, arriving mere minutes later to hurry into the shipyards. Another frantic hour of refitting had restored much of their capability; the orbital docks’ crews were getting a lot of practice.
“All right,” Absen addressed his captains in his conference room once again. “The Meme report they’re in great shape. They’ve refueled with their pre-positioned clusters of comets and will attrit the swarms as they pass toward Earth. The lead Scourges that are left will find the lunar and planetary defenses waiting for them, backed by TF Bravo. Our sims show we’ll have no problem winning that fight, though a few thousand small craft will probably land to be mopped up by the ground forces. It’s the flagship and the megaswarm attached to it that concern me.”
“We need to attack it by surprise,” Captain Riggin spoke up, apparently emboldened by the success of his earlier suggestions. “Pulse out to a position behind them, and then pulse in from out of the sun like dive bombers. They won’t see us coming and they won’t be able to react fast enough.”
“How do you know they won’t react fast enough?” Scoggins asked mildly, aware her position as the admiral’s flag captain could shut down the young man’s enthusiasm. “We have no idea of their capabilities. Their computers are as fast as ours even if they don’t have AI. They could be programmed to immediately blast anything that shows up with energy weapons, hitting us before our sensors recover and set up our targeting.”
Riggin set his jaw. “We could throw a bunch of decoys at them. They don’t even have to be aimed. Launch all our missiles as soon as we drop pulse, heading in their general direction. They can be updated later. A couple seconds after, we’ll have launched Exploders and we can pulse out.”
“They’re surrounded by their swarm. Five million small craft in a dense screen. We’ll come under immediate attack, and even with a few thousand missiles joining them, Exploders won’t get anywhere near their flagship,” Scoggins replied. “Unless, of course, we pulse straight to point-blank range, but if we do that, every weapon and sensor on the forward hull will be stripped by collisions.”
“Then we pulse in backward again.”
Scoggins shook her head. “If we do that, Conquest will
probably lose her engines. Their swarm is so dense, we’ll take a thousand collisions at lightspeed, each one like a tactical nuke against our skin. At least one of them will go right up our tailpipes and wipe out the fusion drives, which by the way provide half of ship’s power.”
Absen cleared his throat, and the two captains subsided. “I like the general idea, trying to hit them hours out instead of right here at home. If we let them get too close, they might deploy some weapon we can’t stop. Out there, we force them to reveal their capabilities, and we still have superior mobility and speed. All we really have to do is figure out a tactical approach that gets us into Exploder range…and out again, I hope.”
“You hope?” Scoggins turned to the admiral with raised eyebrows.
“If it comes down to a choice between Earth and this ship, there’s only one real option.”
“If that happens,” Michelle said, “I can do it myself. There’s no need for organics to risk themselves.”
Absen shook his head. “I’m not proposing a suicide run, Commander, merely making the observation that no matter what the odds of fighting our way out, we may have to accept them.”
Captain Doughty of the Montgomery spoke up. “Why not let the AI give it a try, sir? That way, we don’t have to lose any people.”
The face on Michelle’s avatar froze, and Absen forced himself not to castigate the man in public. “Mister Doughty, Commander Michelle Conquest is as much a person as you or I. That said, there is some merit to losing only one person rather than thousands. Michelle, how much would it affect your combat capacity to run Conquest alone?”
“I’d retain about forty-five percent overall, though I can allocate effort as necessary. In practice, I’d retain one hundred percent of helm, main weapons array and Exploder capability, deprioritizing everything else.”
“We can’t do that, sir,” Scoggins said, turning earnestly to Absen. “She might take down the flagship, but the swarm would jump her immediately. She wouldn’t have the capacity to defend herself or even make it out with TacDrive. Every small craft she hits is a fusion bomb at lightspeed.”
Conquest and Empire (Stellar Conquest Series Book 5) Page 20
