The Shattering War

by James Edward

  THE SHATTERING

  WAR

  BOOK ONE: CONRAD BASE

  JAMES EDWARD

  Copyright © 2016 Jim Hunting.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Archway Publishing

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  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4808-3213-8 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4808-3214-5 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908665

  Archway Publishing rev. date: 06/21/2016

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1Getting Fired-Getting Hired

  Chapter 2Going Fishing

  Chapter 3Recruiting the Best

  Chapter 4Stealing the start of a fleet

  Chapter 5Building Conrad into a livable system

  Chapter 6Picking up some warships

  Chapter 7Ceding the System

  Chapter 8Developing the system-starting R&D

  Chapter 9Pirates

  Chapter 10Preparing for the fall

  Chapter 11Olaf

  Chapter 12Some fast action required

  Chapter 13Recruiting nonmilitary citizens

  Chapter 14Getting Jeb Julliard

  Chapter 15Doust

  Chapter 16Causing Damage

  Chapter 17CSWS Banshee

  Chapter 18Battle Plans

  Chapter 19Conrad vs the PRC

  Chapter 20Finishing the Task

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER 1

  Getting Fired-Getting Hired

  RAY SIGHED AS HE PULLED his dress uniform out of the wrapper. This was only about the fourth time he had brought it out, and it would be the last time he would ever wear it. If you looked closely, you would see that the area where the captain’s bars were set was a tad cleaner than the rest of the cloth. He had no time to find some commander’s pips, so the uniform would just be bare of rank. It really didn’t matter in the long run; he would be out of the service in a couple of hours.

  Ray reflected back to the day he first put on a dress uniform and how proud he was of the fact that he was actually in the space fleet as an officer cadet graduate. What was that, some twenty years ago? Twenty-two? Yeah, he realized, it was twenty-two years, the last six as captain of a frigate. Now he was being busted down to a commander and drummed out of the fleet. And for what? He had put his crew and frigate in harm’s way against explicit orders, gotten it shot full of holes, and taken serious casualties.

  Ray remembered that fateful day like it was yesterday and not four months ago. The ringing of the klaxons, the shuddering of his ship, and especially the smell of ozone, burning wires, and hot metal. In his mind’s eye, he went back to that day.

  He was traversing through the Faraday System that was part of the Findley Cluster, a nondescript group of stars that were forming from a nebula. Most stars didn’t even have a solar system with planets at this point, but given a few hundred million years, they could have a few planets. The Faraday System was an uncommon traversing point that allowed starships the ability to use a gravitational slingshot from one hyper point to another. Most ships weren’t out this far, but on patrol, Ray felt obliged to run this system to give his crew the experience of slingshotting and gathering data on a developing system.

  The problem with the Findley Cluster was that it was an area where privateers, slavers, and smugglers liked to hide out. It was remote, and due to the radiation and solar winds and massive dust clouds, it was for the most part unexplored. As it was not part of the Assembly of Governing Worlds, the assembly had no jurisdiction over it, and there was no backup if a situation arose requiring it. Standing orders were that no forceful intervention would be tolerated; only defensive fire would be acceptable under dire circumstances. The orders were to back away and keep your distance unless badly provoked.

  “Sir, we have a ship on our sensors,” the sensor operator reported to the XO. “Ship bearing is at two degrees horizontal relative and at six million klicks.”

  The XO, Jeb Juliard, was a heavily muscled man with a piercing look. “Tactical,” he said, “do you have an identification? Nav, switch to silent running, sensor to passive.”

  “Nothing yet, sir. Their configuration is not in our data banks, but that could be because we’re picking up some local chaff that’s dispersing our tactical and sensor sweeps,” the tactical officer reported as she reviewed her screen. “They are not scanning behind them, sir. They appear to be unaware of us.”

  “Communications,” the XO said, “are they transmitting anything?”

  Jeb looked over his shoulder to Ray with a quizzical look. “This would be a good exercise to see how close we can get in a real-time situation, sir.”

  “No, sir, there is nothing being transmitted on any frequency,” Karen Videll, the coms officer, replied. “Will keep scanning, but if they’re talking on a tight beam, I get nada.”

  “Excellent idea. XO, go to yellow alert all stations,” Ray ordered.

  The bridge light switched to a yellow hue, and he could feel the ship’s hum change as engineering started to switch engines to maximum power. “Helm, put us behind the bogey so we’re in its propulsion wash, four million out. Tactical, start running firing solutions to ascertain our best first hit and with what guns. Sensors, keep a passive scan on this guy; we won’t go active until we’ve been spotted.”

  Ray watched as the crew went through their paces. Sensor operator George Katoski was hunched over his screen watching the blips and readings as they came in. Lily Braden, the tactical officer, was working her keyboard at a furious rate, working on the best solution to plan an attack.

  “Sensors, have we a size for this bogey?” Ray asked.

  “Negative, sir.” George shook his head. “The size is fluctuating. I think it has to do with all the dust and other disturbance in the area, but I can’t get a solid fix for another million klicks.”

  “Tactical?”

  “The same, sir, although I’m thinking more in line with a destroyer class size for my attack simulation,” the tactical officer reported.

  “And?”

  “Well, sir,” she stated, “if the bogey continues on the same course, I’m inclined to use a sixty-centimeter Kew. There would be no heat trace, making it almost impossible to sense unless you’re hard scanning for it. An impact would annihilate the ship. The speed on impact would be enough to blast through the shields and the ship. The problem is that if it changes course, the Kew will be a miss. I have considered the missiles because they’re more maneuverable and can go active to seek and destroy if the bogey dodges. We would need to come as close as thirty thousand klicks to activate our main guns. So I would fire a Kew and six missiles, three on either side of the Kew track, to attack if it tries to dodge the Kew.�
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  Ray was impressed. It was a well-thought-out plan, but it was subject to many ifs. It was safe as it could be from a major distance, but it would also give the bogey time to respond to the attack if sensed. A vigilant sensor operator could pick up missile launch or a missile heat trace when they went active, and point defense could work to neutralize them.

  Before Ray could respond, the XO weighed in. “Lieutenant, what about the trace on missile launch? How could we hide that so as not to alert the bogey?”

  “Yes, sir. If we launched now, the burn would be hidden by the propulsion wash unless they are actively scanning their rear. Then the missiles would go dead heat until in range to go active,” she stated. “If they’re scanning back, they would have gotten us by now as well.”

  “Very good, Lily.” Ray smiled. “Well thought through. Miss Trencher, bring us up to four million; let’s see what we have.”

  They slowly and silently crept closer to the blip on the screen. Because the Lancer was directly in the propulsion wash of the enemy ship, they knew they couldn’t be detected from their position. Ray watched the crew as they went about their duties with an eager intensity.

  “Sir,” the sensor operator said, “the ship is throwing off a bigger shadow than it should. I believe it’s towing something. That’s why it’s throwing out a larger wash. The propulsion gases are splashing against the towed vehicle and are dispersing in a wider area.”

  “Good observation, George!” the XO exclaimed as he studied the readout on his screen. “I think you’re right. Whatever he’s towing, it’s pretty big.”

  “What’s our range now?” Ray asked.

  “We’re at 3.8 million,” the nav operator replied. “We should be getting a clear image now.”

  The image on the screen coalesced into an old Triconde class destroyer. This meant that she was at least fifty years old and was made by the Trisol of the Solidarin system before they were joined into the assembly. In terms of armaments, the destroyer was underpowered. Her armor was not by any stretch up to the standards of contemporary ships, but she did have a strong power plant that would be good for towing. The ship being towed was another old and broken-down freighter.

  “Initial scans indicate that the destroyer is the old SawBlade, built seventy years ago and sold on the market twenty years ago to a colony consortium,” the sensor officer reported. “The cargo ship is so old it isn’t on the registry.”

  “Excellent, Mister Katoski,” Ray said. “Helm, bring us to a new heading of twenty-six degrees relative, ten degree up-angle, 50 percent impulse. Let’s move to our required heading and head for the jump point.”

  “Aye-aye, sir. Changing course to twenty-six by ten degrees.” The helmsman called out his actions as his fingers danced across the screen.

  Ray relaxed in his chair. It had been a small but useful exercise. The crew responded well; the target ships were going to be unaware that they had been tracked until the Lancer moved out from directly behind the ships.

  “Sir! We have missile launch coming from approximately ninety degrees on our starboard side,” the tactical officer exclaimed.

  “Go to general quarters, full power to the shields. Where and what kind of missiles and from whom?” Jeb Julliard barked as both he and Ray started scanning their readouts.

  “Sensors, go active, full range. Lieutenant Braden, I want countermeasures up now. I also want a target. Coms, start announcing us to whomever is out there. I want to know who fired those missiles,” Ray said as calmly as he could as the klaxon for general quarters started to pulse away. “And turn off that klaxon!”

  “Tactical, sir,” Lilly said to identify herself from other reports coming in. “Six missiles on a bearing of ninety-two degrees relative, range seventy thousand klicks, impact in twelve seconds. They are identified as Tiger class ship killers. Countermeasures have been launched.”

  “Helm, change course to seventy degrees up-angle and three hundred relative,” Ray ordered. “Speed to flank.”

  Ray could feel the ship shudder as the countermeasures started up. He could almost hear the roar of the chain guns as they tracked the six incoming missiles. His lasers lit up the darkness as they fired. One by one, the missiles exploded.

  “Communications, sir. They are not responding to any hails,” Karen Videll, the coms officer stated.

  “Sensors, sir. There are three frigate or corvette class ships out there,” George said. They were set up in a classic ambush pattern. If we hadn’t changed course when we did, we would have moved into it.”

  “Tactical, sir. The destroyer has dropped its tow and is turning toward us as well,” Lilly reported.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Engage our IFF (Interspace Friend or Foe) to ensure they know that we are Space Fleet. Plot a course that the destroyer will use to engage us and prepare to fire a 40 cm rail at a counterpoint. Arm ten Raptor class missiles and target the destroyer just like we were going to do in the exercise, five on either side. Set to fire one Orion ship killer down the same track as the Kew to keep him watching that track and not the iron slug. Keep track of the other three and see if they’re waiting for the destroyer or will initiate their own attack. Coms, start communication jamming; no need to have them coordinate their attacks,” Ray ordered. “Increase speed to full flank and change course to 280 relative.”

  Ray watched as the crew went through their paces. The smaller ships began a pursuit pattern in hopes of herding the Lancer toward the destroyer.

  “Sir, tactical. Missile contact from the destroyer. It has fired,” Lily Braden stated. “Impact in twenty-two seconds. Deploying countermeasures.”

  “Miss Braden, it would be beneficial to all stations if you also stated how many missiles were launched,” chided the XO.

  “Six. Sorry, sir,” she replied. “Missiles appeared to be Tigers as well.”

  “Tigers. We will need to take them out as far as possible, but they also might be something we can use,” mused Ray. “Time the first explosion of our countermeasures with the launch of a Kew that way they won’t see us fire. Belay the ship killer but launch ten Eagle ship to ship back at those frigates just to keep them busy.”

  Lily watched intently as her missiles raced out to meet the incoming ship killers fired from the destroyer. She was timing the exact moment of the explosions to fire the 40 cm Kew from their forward-mounted rail gun. Just before impact of the countermeasures, she fired the rail gun and watched the trajectory of the 40 cm slug. The impact of that slug would tear through the shields like they were paper, and the hull would not stand up to the impact either. It was believed that a full-on impact would turn the three-hundred-meter destroyer into scrap metal.

  Ray was watching the track of the rail slug as well as tactical. The XO reminded Lily that there were other things going on and not to concentrate solely on the destroyer.

  “Tactical, the frigates took all the Eagles down but two. They hit the starboard frigate on the port side and caused major damage to the ship. It dropped out of the attack. Preparing to fire another rack of missiles,” Lily stated.

  “Target the front frigate with all missiles. See if you can take that one out,” Ray urged. He watched as the two ships also fired a dozen missiles at them. He also felt the launch of the Eagles back toward the frigate.

  “Missiles away, sir. Impact in thirty-four seconds. Destroyer countermeasures are firing on our missiles. Sir, our countermeasures took all but one of the destroyer missiles out. We are down to the chain guns on the remaining one. Sir!” She spun in her seat. “Even when the chain guns take that missile out, we will take damage. Impact in seven seconds.”

  “Cons, alert damage control to standby for damage,” Ray ordered. A blink of an eye later, the ship was rocked by the explosive blast of the last remaining Tiger. It was taken out at close quarters by the chain gun, but the explosion blasted shrapnel through the shields and p
enetrated the hull. The bridge was rocked by a large piece of the missile body. Though the part never penetrated the heavily shielded bridge, it did tear some of the wiring and liquid coolant that went to the bridge, causing consoles to short. With the cooling down and wiring smoking, the bridge looked like it had taken more damage than it did.

  “Damage report!” the XO bellowed.

  “Hull breach on our portside decks 3 and 4, section 6, venting atmosphere and water,” the damage control officer stated. He pushed his earplug in and listened to whatever was going on, his face going pale. “Sir, reports coming in of four fatalities on deck 4, with two of them being spaced. It was gun crew 7.”

  Ray paled as well. No one wants to lose his or her life, especially being blown out into space by decompression. It was always in the mind of any spacer, but to have it happen was hard on the crew.

  “Very well.” Ray sighed. “Have damage control do the best they can to seal that area off. “Tactical, how are we on our shot on the destroyer?”

  “The Kew is running true for the moment, sir. Expect impact in forty more seconds. Missiles are being engaged by their countermeasures. We have lost missiles with three still running. Missiles targeting the frigate are eighteen seconds out and also being engaged by countermeasures,” she reported.

  “Helm, change course to come to 260 relative. Drop speed to half flank,” Ray ordered. “That will give us some extra time to engage any missile launch that they’re going to send.”

  Kew, Kew, Kew!!! Helm, ninety-degree uplift, max acceleration!” shouted the sensor operator.

  The ship jerked forward, and the nose lifted as the ship started to push up. Ray was looking at the screen, trying to discern the Kew, as was Jeb. They could make out the Kew now as it had been highlighted by tactical as soon as she saw it. It was indeed on an impact course with the ship. Countermeasures really didn’t do anything to stop a solid chunk of titanium-wrapped iron slug. Ray felt the engines go to maximum and seemed to feel the ship surge forth.