The bridge had grown quiet, and a feeling of anticipation grew as they sweated, prayed, and hoped that their captain knew what he was doing.
“Two minutes until we are in their firing range,” Richards announced from the maser station.
“Mister Dover, do we have any garbage in the refuse units?” the Captain asked.
It was the chief manning the damage control panel that answered his question. “Sir, they are all full; we didn’t have time to dump them or use the burners.”
“Excellent,” he said and smiled slightly. “Please blow out half of the units on the port and starboard sides, but mind you, only half.”
With a touch of a console, the packed refuse units jettisoned their contents, spewing garbage and refuse behind them. Normally, they would have used their ship’s incinerator or they would have dumped the refuse into a star while refueling the fusion drives or just before a bend. Even as immense as space was, floating garbage was still a navigational hazard that was not needed.
Waiting as the Karduans drew closer to the spill, they could see the enemy ships on the main view quickly closing the distance.
“Any reaction?” Hope asked, watching the holo-screen.
“They changed course, but then changed their minds and brought themselves back into a perfect pursuit vector. At most, we bought a few minutes.”
“Good, obviously they aren’t afraid of getting a little dirty,” the Hawk commented, turning his chair to where Richards was standing. “Are they ready?”
The first officer nodded.
“Then do it,” the Captain commanded.
“Jettison all remaining refuse units,” Commander Richards ordered and tried hard not to hold his breath. For a moment, he was surprised as he thought that it was amazing, that of all the times, now he didn’t feel like he needed a drink.
“All of the garbage has been tossed out,” the retired chief manning the damage control and ship’s systems station reported.
Again, the crew was silent, and more prayers were said in that moment than at the Padre’s last Sunday service.
“Thirty seconds until they reach the second garbage field,” Lewis said from his station.
Hope watched the main viewer intently. “Any change in course?”
“None, sir.”
“Ten seconds.”
The Hawk looked towards the helm station. “Mister Dover, standby port thrusters.”
The command took Alister as a surprise, but he reacted quickly and stood by the port thruster controls.
“The Karduans are passing to either side of the garbage field,” Richard announced.
“Detonate!” Hope ordered and then added, “Helm, all port thrusters, twenty second burn to a 180 degree turn, then breaking thrusters to station keeping.”
His next command was for the forward main particle cannons to standby to fire. The firing was interrupted as a huge explosion and an energy wave washed over and rocked the ship.
“What the hell was that?” Richards demanded as he regained his feet from where he had fallen.
Many other members of the bridge crew had been tossed about, and Admiral Kirkland had taken a nasty gash across his forehead.
“Sir, sensors are reading an immense radioactive reading; the mines weren’t plasma, but nukes!”
“Holy shit! How big?” he asked, but he knew that they had to be small if they were still there.
Richards ran to the sensor station as the crewman scrambled to make sense of the overload of information streaming into his monitors. “It looks like they were each two or three kiloton warheads, probably hydrogen, with a jacked plutonium-239 implosion cores.”
“Radiation?”
“Bringing the bow of the ship around to fire, the forward turrets helped protect us. Our radiation screen and hull armor should be significant to protect us from the neutron and gamma radiation. Of course, Doc Beilor might want to use this as an excuse to stick us all with anti-rad. shots just to give her something to do,” Richards commented as the bridge crew chuckled in relief.
If they had been in atmosphere, a fireball would have washed over them, but as there was no air in space, the secondary effects were limited to the immediate area surrounding the blast. The mine’s warheads were clean, meaning that the mines were hydrogen-based, being made without a dirtier uranium jacket and having a fission trigger.
Ever since 1905 when Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity stated that E=mc2, physics and the world as a whole had been changing in many ways. This theory said that one kilogram of matter completely converted to energy could release as much as twenty-two megatons of energy.
During World War II, the United States was locked in mortal combat with the Axis Nations of Germany, Japan, and Italy, and needed to keep up and even beat its enemies to an ultimate weapon, a thermonuclear bomb. The American program was called the Manhattan Project, and was started in August of 1942 with physicists Robert Oppenheimer and Enrico Fermi heading the project.
In three short years, their team of scientists had created the first three nuclear weapons. On August 6th, 1945, a twenty-ton yield atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan and then again on August 9th, a second A-bomb was dropped on the city of Nagasaki, finally forcing the Japanese to surrender.
Since then, both fission and fusion bombs had been created, ranging from small one-ton yield warheads to warheads with hundreds of megaton yields. Particle and fusion energy weapons as well as core bombs existed that could even implode the heart of a planet.
“What of the Karduan ships?” Captain Hope finally inquired after he had caught his breath and made sure his ship and crew were all right.
A pause followed as the bridge crew slowly returned to their stations and refocused on their jobs. “Sir, both of the destroyer escorts are destroyed!”
A welcomed cheer followed the announcement as everyone felt the wash of both relief and success. The main holo-screen enhanced its image and the entire bridge could see that the bows of both ships had been completely blown off and vaporized. The hope of survivors was slim.
“Randolph, what have you done?” Kirkland cried, holding a pressure bandage to his head. Such a destructive victory could only bring retributions on Austro Prime.
Hope remained quiet for moment and then answered his question. “I’ve done my duty. Can you say the same?”
“Sir, starboard engines are coming online,” Dover reported as the power line on the left-hand side of his panel lit up. “Full power is available from the starboard unit.”
Another cheer followed, and the Hawk grinned. “My compliments to engineering.”
Commander Richards brought his hand to his ear, listening in on his comm. unit’s command channel. “It seems Mister Daley is to be thanked; he found an error in the startup software. Our military programming wasn’t compatible with the civilian engine. He has reformatted the engine’s computer, and it should now be fine.”
Turning to the helm, the old captain gave his next command. “Bring us back on course, full sub-light,” he said, and then looked to the muted Mr. Rutford. “And I believe it is now time for you to leave us. I suggest you utilize the mutual defense clause in your League of Union.”
“You’ll pay for this someday, mark my words!” the Minister of Interior threatened, finally regaining his voice.
Signaling with a wave of his hand, a pair of armed guards, a midshipman and a veteran, closed on the minister.
“Mister Rabb, Chief Watts, please take the Minister to a life pod. Be sure to disable the communication’s system; we don’t want him reneging on his agreement. Also, make sure its tracking beacon is operational.”
The pair replied in unison, “Aye, sir!” and then took the red-faced politician away.
“What of me, Randolph?” the planetary admiral asked.
Hope gave his friend a sigh, and looked as if he was about to pass sentence on him.
“I’m afraid you will be coming along with us,” he informed, holding his hand up
to cut off any argument. “If I leave you behind, you’ll end up being the fall guy for Rutford and the Austro government. If I take you and the others, well then, you are at least prisoners of war and can’t be blamed.”
The admiral shook his head. “What of my duty and my wife?”
“Your duty is to live to fight another day, hopefully against a real enemy and not your own people. As for Martha, I’ll give you a chance to send her a message with any instructions you might want her to follow. I will also allow you to contact your command and issue any final orders.”
“Thank you.”
“One suggestion: if I were you, I’d tell them to get the Rebecca operational, and mine the hell out of the gravity well!”
Richards cut in with a systems report. “She is in good shape other than some missing bender drive parts, hull plating, and some missile turrets. Her bridge controls are gone, but we jury-rigged an auxiliary on C deck.”
His old friend looked at the first officer, and then at Hope questioningly, not quite comprehending his suggestion.
“John, we just gave them a hell of a beating, and if they knew the gravity well was mined with a possibility of nuclear mines, they’d be less likely to invade,” he explained, pointing to the holo image of the system.
The admiral caught up quickly. “Yes, we could set up a corridor where the cutters could effectively restrict the flow of traffic.”
Captain Hope nodded and smiled. “King Harold II at Stamford Bridge in 1066.”
“Or King Leonidas and his Spartans at the Pass of Thermopylae,” Kirkland agreed, adding his own example from history where the tactic had worked before.
Mike had just entered the bridge followed by Masters and Martin, when he just caught the last part of the two strategists’ conversation.
“Like Horatius at the Bridge,” he chimed in, drawing the attention of the two senior officers.
Both of the old men looked at him strangely, but he liked his example better than theirs.
The first reference was to the Battle of Stamford Bridge in England of September of 1066AD. The Saxon King Harold II previously the Earl of Wessex, after being elected by the Witenagemont royal council, was forced to perform a series of forced marches to defend his shores and his crown. The first was to the north to Stamford Bridge near York.
There to fight his exiled brother Tostig, Earl of North Umbria and Harold Hardrada, the King of Norway who was the most famous Viking warrior of his time, his last name, Hardrada, meaning the Hard Ruler.
They had landed at Stamford Island and had to cross the bridge to engage the smaller and tired Saxon army. Harold was able to use the bridge as a tactical advantage to reduce the enemy’s numerical advantage and soundly defeated the Norwegians killing both King Hardrada and Harold’s rebellious brother Tostig.
Unfortunately, to his south, Hardrada’s cousin, William the Bastard, the Duke of Normandy had landed and Harold was again forced to march the length of England and enter into battle. At the Battle of Hastings, Harold and his house carls bravely withstood the Norman cavalry charges.
After hours, the Normans appeared to break and run. A clever ruse to trick the impregnable Saxon line into breaking their position. The tired Saxon gave chase right into an ambush where Harold and his personal guard would be killed. Hence, England would fall under the Norman rule of King William I also known as William the Conquer.
The admiral’s example also showed the effective use of a smaller force holding a tactical advantage of terrain to force an enemy into a funnel of death. During the Persian Wars of 480BC, a vast Persian army under King Xerxes I was delayed for ten days at the pass of Thermopylae in Greece. The pass called the Hot Gates was just southeast of Lamiá between the Malian Gulf and Mount Oeta and was a natural protection against any northern invasions into the south of Greece.
King Leonidas I of Sparta along with 1400 Greeks including 300 Spartans bravely held the pass. Eventually, after ten days the Spartans were betrayed and outflanked. Leonidas and his Spartans refused to retreat and died holding the pass to the end. This battle gave the Athenians time to evacuate Athens and later defeat the Persian fleet at the Battle of Salamis.
Mike still preferred his example; after all, it had a happy ending. In the later half of the Sixth century, the Etruscan King Lars Porsena led his army against Rome all the way to the Tiber River. There, they made to cross the Sublican Bridge and enter Rome. The Roman Army was busy trying to tear up the bridge, and three volunteers -- Lartius, Herminius, and Horatius Cocles -- had stayed behind to hold the bridge from capture.
The three heroes stood shoulder-to-shoulder holding back the Etruscans who where forced to come at them in limited numbers. When the bridge was about to fall in ruin, Horatius, Captain of the Gate ordered his companions back to safety and held the bridge alone. Once the bridge was destroyed, he dove into the Tiber and swam for the far shore.
Even the enemy was impressed at his courage and skill and the Roman Senate rewarded him with as much land he could plow in a day’s time.
Mike knew all of these stories of courage and resourcefulness having been taught them over the fours year he had attended history classes at Harpers Academy.
The former commandant smiled on, and then the old warrior quoted of all things a poem.
‘To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers
And the temples of this Gods?’
The poem was a ballad from the 1800’s about Horatius by an English author named Thomas Macaulay and as boy it was one Randolph’s favorites.
“Exactly,” the Admiral said, looking from the young ensign to his old friend with a raised eyebrow.
The Captain chuckled, “Mister Collins, a recent Harpers Academy graduate and Sword of Mars winner. May I present Admiral Kirkland, former Confederation Captain.”
“Sir,” Mike said respectfully and performed a crisp hand salute.
The old admiral returned his salute, not with a causal one that so many senior field grade or flag officers were want to do, but with a perfect hand salute from a lifetime of service. “The pleasure is mine.”
Gunny Masters cleared his throat, being the only man present willing to break up the officers’ social hour.
“Sirs, what about the destroyer? We could come about and finish it off,” he suggested, not really caring for poetry. His poetry was to find the enemy and kill him. It didn’t rhyme, but it was still a work in progress.
“Negative; we would then have to fight the cutters in earnest or risk an invasion of Austro Prime for failure to abide by their Karduan Treaty,” Hope answered, and looked to the main holo-screen. “Where are the two cutters guarding the well?”
“Sir,” Richards started, looking to his panel. “The ADS Buckler and the ADS Main Gauche are still at holding positions just outside of the well.”
“And Mr. Rutford?”
“Was jettisoned during your poem,” Richards said with a smile.
Hope looked at him for a moment and smiled in return.
“Well, I hope he wasn’t a critic.” Looking to Kirkland, he nodded. “Now let’s give your men an excuse. We are just far enough away from the damaged destroyer that their sensors won’t pick up what we are about to do.”
The admiral looked worried, but said nothing; he knew it was out of his hands and he had tried to make the best of a bad situation.
“Particle turrets one and two, reduce power to twenty percent of normal and lock on the cutters,” Hope ordered.
“Twenty percent of normal, aye!” came Richards’ response after a few seconds of orders and replies from the gun chiefs.
“Fire!”
From the floundering Karduan destroyer across the system, it looked as if the Star Wolf had opened up a can of whoop-ass on the smaller ships. After a minute of the heavy pounding, the two defense cutters withdrew, each reportin
g considerable amounts of battle damage.
An added effect and unseen benefit was that Mr. Rutford’s life pod, though safe from the cannons, was close enough to the firing to make the man cringe in fear as he desperately fought to control his bowels.
“Helm, take us into the well’s edge. Engine room: prepare to initiate bender drives and polarize the hull,” Richard ordered, acting without the captain having to tell him what to do. Looking to the main computer station, he continued, “Mister Daley, prepare navigational coordinates.”
As the ship readied to escape, the planetary admiral noticed something strange about Randolph as he returned from the communications station. He had just sent a heartfelt message to his wife and his final orders to his command; with any luck they would both listen to his last words of advice.
The Hawk smiled at his friend as he stood by his chair, receiving a questioning look in response.
John Kirkland had played cards with him enough times to know that he was about to do something big.
“Comm. Chief Parker, please send a message to all media and governmental agencies,” Hope ordered, drawing the attention and questioning glances of not only the communications chief, but also the entire bridge staff and Admiral Kirkland.
“Aye, sir; open channel standing by.”
Sitting a little straighter in his raised captain’s chair, he cleared his throat before speaking and then nodded to the chief. “This is Confederation Captain Sir Randolph Hope, commanding the Imperial Star Ship Star Wolf. We have effectively escaped the confines of the current and illegal Austro government, despite the best efforts of Admiral Kirkland and his defense fleet to stop us. The admiral and his party are our prisoners as well as the Karduan ambassador, Lady Siel-Ca.”
“The Karduan ships lay broken and destroyed throughout this system. We encourage the loyal people of Austro Prime to continue to resist any efforts of the enemies of the Emperor and of the Earth Confederation. Above all, use caution in your labors, protect yourselves, and remain safe.”
“We would also like to thank Minister of Interior Rutford and Commander Weaver of the Austro Defense Force for their invaluable help during this time of crisis. God be with you all, and remember that the Confederation has not forsaken you, and we will return!” Hope ended, signaling with a subtle wave to end the transmission and close the vid channel.
The Log of the Gray Wolf (Star Wolf Squadron Book 1) Page 14
