The Jovian Sweep (Asteroid Scrabble Book 1)

by Martin Bourne

  Out of the corner of her eye she caught something bright and strobing. It was a battered but functional vidscreen, littered with a series of complex schematics. She looked closer. The display looked familiar somehow. That curve, that flow…she checked the title at the top of the screen - ‘Xp38 engine circuit flux’.

  Why was that familiar? She tapped her perscomp, interrogating ‘Xp38’. There! The second page of entries identified Xp38 as the Carousel training drone! She knew she had seen something like that before!

  “Excuse me miss.”

  The voice was close and unexpected.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The speaker was a puffy faced middle-aged man. His eyes were steady but watery, with extensive laughter lines spreading from them to all over his face. He had only a few wispy strands of grey hair, making a heroic last stand against encroaching male pattern baldness. He wasdressedin battered overalls and his hands seemed welded to a portable scanner.

  "I'm sorry too,” she rallied. “I didn't mean to pry."

  The man grinned amiably. "Not at all. It’s good to see people taking an interest."

  Quite definitely not the response she was expecting! "Err...this is a Carousel training drone isn't it?"

  “It is, but we don’t use the names here. In the tech sheds drones are always letters and numbers.” He stuck out a hand. "Bezalel Dinjer, senior technician."

  Surprised, she shook his hand. "Josie Tallion, link warrior cadet."

  "Not common to find cadets down here."

  Josie didn't want to go into details, but she had an out. "I'm doing advanced systems engineering."

  "That's not common either." He activated the portable scanner. Green and red lines moved around the circuit board.

  "That's showing a fault in the anterior thrusters," exclaimed Josie, peering at the vidscreen.

  The techie eyed her. "That's right. There's a glitch somewhere in the control circuitry, probably around a 4-5-R node..."

  Josie watched in awe as he expertly traced the power lines around the circuit. It tied in exactly with her piloting training. She asked more questions, and he answered them straightaway, thoroughly enjoying her interest. When he had isolated the fault he showed her how to correct it, and then moved on to another problem. This was for a drone she didn't recognise, but the principles were the same. It was eye-opening. Dinjer’s honest blunt fingers were surprisingly delicate, gliding gently over errant circuit diagrams as he found and corrected errors. Josie lapped it all up.

  He was in no way an academically gifted man, or even particularly quick on the uptake, but his knowledge base was huge. What he lacked in formal qualifications he more than made up for with immense practical wisdom polished by vast experience. Josie found his presence calming and inspirational, and she picked up information at a tremendous rate. Dinjer seemed to know everything about everything. Learning had suddenly become fun and interesting, and therefore very easy.

  They were sitting affably drinking coffee, chatting about the various technical shortcomings of Confederation drones, when a shift change signal came through. Josie checked her perscomp. She had been here nearly four hours! The time had flown by. Dinjer stood up and shook the dregs of his drink onto the floor.

  "Well that's me done for the day."

  "I got to go too," said Josie. "I can't believe I've been here so long."

  Dinjer smiled. "Why don't you come back next blue shift?"

  Josie found herself grinning in return. "I'd like that."

  Chapter 10.

  Depot Ship Sapphire, between Courage Asteroid and Jupiter.

  Admiral Jack Courage paced up and down, back and forward, over and over again. Living area was always at a premium on board a space vessel, especially a naval one, but as an admiral he had been able to requisition a converted store room, so he had some space to think. It was one of the few privileges of rank he appreciated.

  The problem was that a substantial proportion of his enhanced quarters was cluttered with vidscrolls. Reports of every size and complexity overflowed onto the floor from his desk, his bunk and even the bulkheads. Courage eyed them with a mixture of jaundice and approval.

  Automatic computerised matching protocols were useful, but not perfect. He had needed to go over the raw data on individual vidscrolls, extracting every morsel and nuance that he could. Laborious, but necessary if he was to fully understand the situation and know how to deal with it. Unfortunately, the conclusions he had come to were not comforting.

  He retrieved a vidscroll at random from the floor. It turned out to be the official report on the geopolitical status of Ganymede. It was far too long - the authors seemed to like making their points over and over again, as if they thought repetition would increase the chance a reader would agree with them. It didn’t fool Jack Courage. He could summarise the condition of Ganymede in three simple phrases – it was growing rapidly, it was poverty-stricken, and it was politically volatile.

  With a grimace he tossed the vidscroll onto his desk, where it sneakily dislodged another that replaced it on the floor. Inwardly grimacing he gathered up this new disturber of his thought processes. It turned out this one was his official authorisation to assume command. It incorporated a brief overview of the situation and the scope of his duties and responsibilities.

  Having spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours memorising large tracts of the reports on the situation, he was still unable to fully understand what that was. As was all too common, VSB had saddled him with too many requirements and not enough assets to meet them. He had insufficient information on hostile intentions and force strengths. The local political situation was delicate and gave him little room to manoeuvre. Maybe his sister was right. Maybe all the Confederation wanted was a scapegoat for an impending disaster.

  And disaster was exactly what this was shaping up to be. If the Triangle League had launched an invasion even three weeks ago there would have been little to stop them. In absolute military terms losing control of the Jovian system wouldn’t have mattered too much – none of the local colonies were all that important strategically - but politically it would have been a sharp blow. Economic empires like the Virtue Confederation were dependent just as much on the perception of power as on its reality. It wasn’t enough to come out on top eventually, after a long, hard fight. Prestige and credibility mandated having to win big, quickly, and all of the time.

  So it had been entirely natural for VSB to scrape together a force when they learnt there was a threat to the Confederation’s interests out here. No particular effort had been made to hide the formation or even the deployment of a “Jovian defence fleet”. On the contrary, its creation had been positively trumpeted. The latest assessments from VSB reasoned that the very presence of a large Virtue Confederation fleet would deter aggression, in which case it might not have to fight at all. As an added plus, a big show of strength would impress the locals.

  Unfortunately, it seemed analysis had stopped at that point. No one had given much thought as to what would happen if the presence of the Fleet did not cause the Trigs to shy off. Nobody had considered that far from deterring an attack, the presence of an undersized, ill matched group of mostly obsolete vessels, spread over too large an area and isolated from all immediate support, might positively encourage one. Well, odds were that the bluff was going to be called, which meant that it was going to be up to Admiral Jack Courage and the Jovian defence fleet to somehow add substance to the mystique of Virtue Confederation power.

  Courage picked up the vidscroll that detailed the units that had been assigned to him. The fleet was patently not up to the job. It wasn’t even a true fleet as such, more a hastily thrown together assortment of ships and personnel, culled from half a dozen separate commands at very short notice. Most of them had never worked together before and were unfamiliar with each other’s methods. The component vessels had wildly different acceleration rates, making them particularly unsuited to operating
together as a unified whole. There weren’t enough drones and a sizeable proportion of the ones he did have were obsolete. There weren’t enough link warriors, certainly not experienced ones anyway. There weren’t even enough technicians to service the drones. It was a desperately weak force.

  How he was expected to block a Trig invasion with such a motley force he was at a loss to understand. Even a good-sized raiding group might be too much to face toe to toe. If he had to fight to try and stop an invasion, then the likely outcome would be that the Virtue Confederation would not only lose the Jovian satellites but a sizeable chunk of the fleet here as well. The Jovian defence fleet might be weak, but losing most of it would still be a major blow. All of which nicely explained why he had been given this detached command. Confederation High Command had a problem. Sending a fleet to protect Jupiter was militarily unsound, but they would be under immense pressure to do it anyway. They had to do something, or at least had to be seen to be doing something.

  Courage grunted. Politics again.

  He stood up and paced to the opposite side of the room, where he had installed a bookcase for his collection of old-fashioned bound books on military history. Slowly he ran his hand along the covers, his eyes following the lovingly faded titles. For sure there were plenty of examples here of smaller forces beating much larger ones, but in every case he could think of the smaller force had something else going for it - superior morale, or superior weapons, or superior mobility – or even just a good defensive position. He didn’t have anything like that.

  The uncomfortable fact was that the Triangle League navy was no push over, in spite of all the propaganda that streamed from the satirical publications back home. It wasn’t quite as large as the Virtue Confederation navy, but it was very professional, efficiently organised, competently led, and at least as technically advanced as the Confederation’s navy. He scanned over the equipment rosters again, picking out little quirks in his forces. There were a few small advantages here and there that he could exploit. It might partly offset superior numbers and equipment, but there was only so much you could achieve against superior force, especially if the opponent was no fool.

  He crossed over to the main vidscreen in the room and brought up a map of Jupiter. He switched the scale to show the whole of the Jovian System and the approaches to it from the asteroid belt. It was always possible that Intelligence was wrong about the size of the Triangle force heading his way. Maybe, with a little skill, some audacity and a lot of luck, the Jovian defence fleet could somehow manage to repulse this attack. But then it came back to having not just to win, but to win big. If he did manage to fend the Trigs off but took substantial casualties in the process, the Confederation’s reputation might be severely dented anyway. Besides, on a purely practical level, a victory that significantly weakened the fleet might prompt another Trig attack in the future.

  The best, the very best, outcome was that Intelligence was wrong about there being an attack on the Jovian satellites, in which case there would be no fighting, no loss of prestige, real estate or equipment, and most importantly no loss of life. Several thousand sailors would have a nice little cruise out to Jupiter, get to do a bit of shopping and sightseeing, and get back home in time for the Sabi holiday. That would be very nice, but it wasn’t an eventuality he could rely on. Not without definite intelligence. Anyway his sister would not be pleased. As she had very concisely and repeatedly pointed out, if the Trigs didn’t attack there would be no chance for him to shine. It would be a nothing campaign that would do nothing for his career.

  Courage grunted again. What career?

  He reached for a blank vidscroll and carelessly doodled on it. It was possible, even likely, that this was just a raid rather than a full-scale invasion. Given the current balance of power it would be easy for the Triangle League to occupy one or more of the Jovian satellites, but holding onto them would be much more difficult. The supply lines from Jupiter to the nearest Triangle bases were even longer than the ones from Jupiter to the Virtue Confederation. No they surely couldn’t plan on holding them, not unless they were going to put a very large force out here. Or they had a great deal more support locally than anyone thought. Or they were confident in acquiring it.

  He scratched his head. Too many variables.

  If this was just a raid, it simplified his options. The obvious plan would be to avoid becoming entangled with a superior enemy force, no matter what his orders were. Retreating would save his command – Triangle ships were no more mobile than their Confederation counterparts – but it would mean abandoning the Jovian satellites. The economic and political consequences for the Virtue Confederation of doing that would be substantial. Running away wouldn’t do anything for the Virtue Confederation’s image, no matter how much sense it made militarily. The personal consequences for him would be equally devastating. His enemies in the Confederation hierarchy would hang him out to dry. He would be arrested for disobeying orders and possibly even for cowardice in the face of the enemy.

  On the other hand, if he stood his ground and fought it would almost certainly be against heavy odds. That meant, barring some miracle, that he would get beaten. Badly. There was even a risk of being completely overwhelmed, in which case the Confederation would lose the system anyway. Military ruin would be added to economic and political disaster.

  And, of course, there was always the remote possibility he might get killed.

  He shook his head. If the game was unwinnable, there was always the option of changing the rules. Perhaps he could get his orders changed if the Triangle League’s intentions in the area became clearer. If they were planning to invade they would need to bring a very large force indeed, in which case he could justifiably call for substantial reinforcements to take them on. After all, VSB could hardly expect him to fight a battle it was impossible to win.

  He gave yet another grunt. Yes, of course they could.

  It all came down to information, or more specifically his acute lack of it. Commander Prince had been right about the difficulty in getting reliable intelligence out of the Triangle asteroids. The Trigs were good at undercover work. He would have to rely on his own reconnaissance assets, but there was a shortage of long-range scout drones out here in this “quiet” sector. The ill-assorted collection of Depot Ships he had been given were also chronically short of short range reconnaissance drones.

  He went to the summary of the fleet roster. Eight frontline Depot Ships was an impressive number, always providing, of course, that they would all be here by the time the Trigs arrived. The problem was that fully half the fleet, the four “Nebula” class ones, were only second-generation Depot Ships. They had been good vessels in their time, but now they were nearing obsolescence. Their acceleration and endurance was low by modern standards. If he wanted to keep the fleet together he would be restricting the fleet to their modest manoeuvring capability. They could carry a fair number of drones – well over a hundred each – and fairly heavy types too, but ones that had low endurance. He could transfer more modern types to them, but they wouldn’t be able to carry as many, and the extra fuel mass would cut back their acceleration even further. Besides, modern drones were in short supply.

  Then there were the four more recently built Depot Ships. Actually one of them, Valiant, was also a second-generation type, but she had been extensively refitted and modified just before the start of the war. It had been a pretty good job too. Her drone carrying capabilities were not much better than the Nebula’s, but she'd been completely re-engined, bringing her acceleration rate well up to third generation standards. Her sensors had been upgraded, and she'd been given the very latest command and control facilities. She'd make a good flagship. He had almost decided to transfer his flag to her.

  Probably best to talk to Cromarty and Prince before announcing that, one way or the other. There might be some bizarre kind of personnel problem.

  The three “proper” third generation Depot Ships were his most effective units. They had goo
d acceleration rates and high endurance, but he would forego those advantages if he obeyed the principles of concentration and kept them with the older Depot Ships. Did he dare to split them off and use them as a separate strike force, finessing the weaker units? The modern Depot Ships didn't carry many more drones than the Nebula's, but theirs were, on average, larger and more powerful. It didn’t matter. Three of them, four including Valiant, would be nowhere near sufficient to face off against what was coming their way, not if Intelligence’s estimates were anywhere near accurate. He would need the support of the older, slower vessels to stand any chance.

  The other problem was that the three third generation Depot Ships were still scattered between Courage Asteroid and Jupiter. He was onboard Sapphire now on its way to Persephone, where it would rendezvous with Amethyst in five days. Tourmaline was still at Courage Asteroid and would be doing well to reach them in less than three weeks, no matter what the odious Captain Wentzel continued to claim on his almost daily updates. That meant there wouldn’t be much time for training, and that was important. Good working relationships were vital – an absolute force modifier in fact. He needed his best Depot ships at the top of their game.

  The minor units were an even more mixed bag than the big vessels. Seven escort Depot Ships in total, drawn from no less than four separate commands. That wasn’t a good start. He would be relying on them for reconnaissance and the fact that most of them had also never worked together before didn’t augur well. He could wish there were more of them too. It would help enormously if he could locate the Trigs before they pinpointed him. It would be clearer what their objectives were and it would give him more time to respond.

  There were a reasonable number of supply ships, but he could have done with more of them as well, what with the low endurance of his older Depot Ships. If he did end up having to defend the Jovian satellites the best way was to engage the Trigs as far away from them as was practical, but that meant longer transit times for the support ships bringing supplies from Ganymede and Persephone. It would take longer for the supply ships to get to the Depot Ships, and they wouldn’t have as much fuel when they did. If the fleet was going to be doing a lot of high acceleration, as seemed likely, keeping them adequately supplied with fuel was going to be hard work.