Commander

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Trying to create an incident, Sire?”

  “If they are, we will give them one. Make sure the defense you send is adequate to the task, Admiral Leicester. I would think the new picket ships would be well-suited to this situation. And you can use a crewless converted ship to retrieve the memory module. You are not, however, to use any of the new-design warships.”

  “Understood, Sire.”

  “The second prong of this effort, Admiral Leicester, is to provide defenses for at least some of our commercial shipping, especially into the eight star nations we now know to be a problem. I would think something like a few of the new picket ships trailing along, which would down-translate well after the freighter, to catch any attacker maneuvering toward our ship, but well before his attack on the freighter has commenced.”

  “Once they down-translate, both the freighter and the picket ships will be trapped in the system, Sire.”

  “You can send along a projector ship to pick them up, Admiral Leicester. Perhaps a few dozen more picket ships could get there earlier to provide the freighter cover until the projector ship can arrive.”

  “Very well, Sire.”

  “Understand me very well, Admiral Leicester. I don’t care how many of these pirate ships we have to destroy or how many ships of the star nation hosting these pirates we have to destroy. I also don’t care how many picket ships or converted battleships we lose doing it. We will protect our interests, we will protect our shipping, and we will protect our commercial spacers. I want the ultimate results of attacking Sintaran shipping or allowing an attack on Sintaran shipping to be well understood by all parties. I want such results not to be hit or miss, but to be as inevitable as the sunrise.”

  “I understand, Sire.”

  “Good. See to it, Admiral Leicester.”

  Chief Fordham and his section were out on the ship playing around with the new HARPER units. The ship was sitting motionless in orbit, not needing to maintain one-g gravity for crew comfort, because the crew was actually in the building labeled HMS Raptor on Imperial Fleet Base Osaka.

  “All right, Kowalski,” Fordham said. “Why don’t you try some of that drivin’ around shit that thing is supposed to do.”

  One of the HARPER units’ camera heads swiveled around to look at Fordham’s unit. It waved an arm.

  “Sure thing, Chief.”

  Kowalski’s HARPER unit drifted free of the ship when he kicked the juice through the coils canceling the rare-earth tread magnets and gave a short thrust up.

  “What do you want me to do, Chief?”

  “I don’t know, Kowalski. Go out to the bow of the ship and drop back onto the surface, then space out quite a ways from the ship, and then come back here, How’s that?”

  “Sure, Chief.”

  The self-propelled unit thrust up away from the ship, then turned on thrusters to face the bow and accelerated off in that direction. As it approached the bow of the ship, it slowed down and arced toward the surface. It made a soft landing at the very end of the ship.

  Fordham watched whole thing with his own cameras and those of a crewman closer to the bow.

  “Hey, Kowalski. How’d you get so good with that thing? We just got it.”

  “When I got my senior engines badge, they took us out in the spacedock in something similar to show us the engines up close and personal, Chief. It was a welder, but it had all the same controls in VR. They let us use them in our off time to get in some practice. We used to go out and play tag and shit.”

  “Well, that’s nice. We just get ‘em, and we got an expert already.”

  “Yeah. OK, Chief. Away from the ship and back.”

  The little bot on the front of the ship thrust up off the ship again and took off at right angles to the ship. It was accelerating pretty hard. At one point, Kowalski cut the thrust.

  “Hey, Chief. Watch this.”

  First the bot did a slow barrel roll. Then it did an end for end. The thrust resumed and it first started slowing, then came to a stop, and finally started accelerating back toward the ship.

  “Great. If we ever put on a HARPER-unit circus, Kowalski, you can be the acrobat.”

  Kowalski was decelerating now. His unit touched down in front of Fordham’s unit with a ‘clack’ of rare-earth magnets on the deck.

  “That was fun, Chief. I’d forgotten how much fun these propulsion systems can be.”

  “OK, Kowalski. Good job. Hey, everybody. I just got a recall. We got an assignment and we’re headin’ outta the system. So everybody head back to the barn.”

  Senior Chief Robert ‘Fitz’ Fitzhugh was the most senior NCO and head of the Goat Locker on HMS Raptor. They had spaced to the hypergate and through it, having set up the navigation plan before losing contact. They were now planning the operation while they were out of touch with the ship.

  “So that’s the setup. Somebody’s shooting up our freighters, and merchant marine guys are gettin’ killed. Part of the reason that pisses me off is you got these tough guys in warships takin’ potshots at defenseless freighters. Hopefully we get a chance at a piece of ‘em.

  “Anyway, our job right now is to get in there, pick up the memory module, and get back out again. We’re gonna get the final plans at the rendezvous point, and there’s a projector ship and all, but we know we need to EVA into the wreckage with a HARPER unit. Now, I’ve been told we can have help with that if we want it. Have an expert VR into the self-propelled HARPER unit, but I would rather do it with our own crew if we could.

  “You guys got any ideas?”

  “Hey, Fitz,” Fordham called out.

  “Yeah, Jim. Whatcha got?”

  “Kowalski.”

  “Kowalski?”

  “Yeah. The guy’s got a lot of experience on these self-propelled platforms. He could probably dance ballet in one. I guess they used them in senior engines class, and after hours they used to go play tag and shit with ‘em.”

  “No shit.”

  “No shit. It was beautiful just watchin’ him whip that thing around, and then touch down on the deck like a feather. He’s an artist.”

  “Damn. OK, then. It’s Kowalski. I’ll let the XO know. He’d rather have us do the job without outside help – we’re HMS Raptor, we don’t need no help – and I agree with him.”

  Phalia

  HMS Merlin made its down-translation from hyperspace well above the ecliptic from SCV Queen of Commerce’s expected position. That position was known from her filed spacing plan as well as from the sensor recordings of the Estvian freighter that had seen the explosion.

  “All right. Let’s get the targeting arrays up. What all is out here?” asked Captain Manfred Forst.

  “Coming up now, Sir. Looks like we have two divisions of light cruisers patrolling on a debris field in the expected position.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, Sir. They’re spacing back and forth adjacent to the debris field, to keep shipboard gravity. I’m plotting their patrol routes now, Sir.”

  “Are they squawking?”

  “Yes, Sir. Phalian navy vessels. Self-identified as light cruisers.”

  “We’re being hailed, Sir.”

  “Tell them, ‘Sorry. We took a wrong turn.’ Helm, let’s get under way on zero mark ninety on our current position. Bring up the projector.”

  Merlin began accelerating away from the ecliptic. She brought up her hyperspace projector field, drew it over herself, and disappeared from normal space.

  Twenty-four next-generation Imperial Navy picket ships dropped out of hyperspace in a loose arc between the debris field that had been the SCV Queen of Commerce and the Phalian light cruisers on patrol. The unmanned picket ships were under the VR control of ship’s crews scattered across the Sinataran Empire.

  “Sensors coming up, Ma’am. There they are. Still on patrol. We’re between them and the debris field. They’re patrolling on the ecliptic, back and forth across our position. One group just passed our position, and the other just made its t
urn and is coming back toward us.”

  “Stand by for action, everybody. I think they’re probably going to get testy with us.”

  “We’re being hailed, Ma’am. The demand our identity and purpose.”

  “Tell them who we are and that our purpose is investigation of the loss of our commercial vessel under interstellar maritime treaty.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Sintar had the right to investigate the loss of one of its ships under treaty. Would Phalia allow it, or would they violate the treaty?

  “The Phalian commander is requesting communications, Ma’am.”

  “Put him on.”

  “Rear Admiral Marc Bonnay, commanding Kingdom of Phalia Navy Light Cruiser Squadron 17, Captain.

  “Vice Admiral Maria della Espinoza here, Admiral, aboard Sintaran Imperial Navy ship HMS Loba. What can I do for you today?”

  “Admiral, I request and require that you leave Phalian space. I noticed you had a projector ship pop in earlier. You can either call it back, or proceed to a hypergate under Phalia traffic control.”

  “I am exercising Sintar’s right under interstellar maritime treaty to investigate the loss of the Sintaran Commercial Vessel Queen of Commerce, Admiral.”

  “With twenty-four warships, Admiral?”

  “Mere picket ships, Admiral. And you are patrolling the debris field with two divisions of light cruisers? What’s that all about?”

  “The Phalian Navy need not justify its force dispositions in its own space to you, Admiral. And I won’t debate interstellar treaties with you. That’s above my pay grade. Our superiors can take those matters up at another time. Right now, I am requiring that you leave Phalian space.”

  “Request denied, Admiral.”

  “It is not a request. If you do not depart Phalian space, you will be fired on, Admiral. It seems a stupid thing to die for.”

  “Do what you will, Admiral. I will send flowers to your widow. Espinoza out.”

  Espinoza cut the connection.

  “Well, let’s see what they’ll do. Flotilla command. Stand by for offensive action. Attack Plan Alpha. It’s three on one, so veer off once your target takes a hit. Let’s save what hardware we can, without letting any of them get away.”

  “Transmitted. All ships acknowledging, Admiral.”

  “Stand by.”

  The first division of the Phalian light cruisers was coming at them from its turn at the far end of its patrol route. The second division had been much closer but heading away from them. It made an early turn and began decelerating. It looked like the two divisions would join up and come in at them as a full squadron.

  The second division came to zero relative velocity and started building velocity toward them as the first division came up behind them. A little adjustment to their accelerations and the two divisions merged into one squadron formation bearing down on the twenty-four picket ships of Espinoza’s command. It was a beautifully executed maneuver Espinoza could appreciate, but it would all be for naught.

  “Multiple missile separations. Eight incoming, Ma’am.”

  “Flotilla command. Attack Plan Alpha. Execute.”

  The twenty-four picket ships rapidly pivoted on their axes and gave full war emergency power to their drives. They shot out sideways at ninety degrees to the missiles’ paths at almost ten gravities of acceleration. They cut a wide arc around the incoming missiles, which could not turn fast enough to follow them, and homed in on the Phalian light cruisers.

  The Phalian ships were too slow on the helm to bring their missile impellers to bear on the incoming picket ships. As the picket ships came into the cruisers’ defensive envelopes, point defense clusters opened up on them. The point defense clusters were programmed to fire at the nose of incoming missiles, to render ineffective the targeting computers in their control heads. Against the picket ships, though, the point-defense lasers bounced harmlessly off their depleted-uranium nose cones.

  Eight picket ships impacted, one on each of the Phalian light cruisers, as the other sixteen picket ships pivoted hard and veered off from their attack runs. The eight that impacted, designed to penetrate battleship hulls, passed almost completely through the light cruisers, venting plasma all the way. At war emergency power, their magnetic plasma bottles were at full rated pressure, and lost containment inside the light cruisers’ hulls.

  All eight of the Phalian light cruisers exploded with the loss of all hands.

  “Flotilla command. Resume station,” Espinoza said. “Signal Merlin and Raptor. Area secure.”

  “OK, so the Loba cleared out the bad guys. You all ready to go, Kowalski?” Fordham asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good, Chief. We rotated around so I’m right at the door of the barn.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Hey, Chief, what’s Loba mean, anyway?”

  “She-wolf.”

  “Weird name for a ship.”

  “You ever meet Vice Admiral Maria della Espinoza?”

  “No.”

  “Well, Loba might as well be her nickname. Get me? I almost feel sorry for the Phalians. Almost.”

  At the rendezvous point a quarter light-year from Phalia, Merlin projected a hypergate, and Raptor disappeared into it.

  Raptor dropped out of hyperspace on the far side of the debris field from Phalia. The picket ships were arrayed on the other side of the debris field, keeping an eye on military assets in Phalia. They seemed to be getting organized to cause trouble, but they were hours away.

  “Chief, I broadcast the ‘where-are-you,’ and I’m getting pings back. I have a rough volume mapped.”

  “All right, Kowalski. Get out there,” Fordham said.

  “In process, Chief.”

  Kowalski already had the door open, and he walked the bot out onto the ramp. He looked for the general volume where the memory module was pinging from, overlaid as a heads-up on his vision field, then released his tread magnets and launched directly from the ramp.

  It looked like it was a couple miles away. Raptor didn’t want to get too close to all those loose shipping containers and big chunks of debris. He maneuvered through them, heading for the designated volume.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to spot it out here, Chief. There’s tons of crap floating around.”

  “Switch to infrared, Kowalski. If it’s transmitting, it’s probably the only warm thing out there.”

  “Good idea. Lemme see.... Yup, there it is. On the way.”

  Kowalski maneuvered among all the debris to the one thing that showed up warm in his infrared display. Everything else had long ago cooled from the explosion, but the recently activated transmitter was getting warmer as he watched.

  Intended to be retrieved in the case of a lost ship, it had rings on it for grabbing it or belaying it. Kowalski pulled several lines out from his tool belt and clipped them to the suitcase sized unit, then reeled them in tight. With the unit thus secured, he headed back to the Raptor.

  All of this had taken some time, and the Phalians had been busy.

  “Hey, Kowalski. Loba says they’re on the way. We got maybe three hours.”

  “I’m on the way back, Chief. Just gotta work through all this crap. It’s probably time to call Merlin.”

  “All right, Kowalski. Get back here as fast as you can, and I’ll tell Fitzhugh it’s time to call the cab.”

  Kowalski finally worked his way clear of the debris field and accelerated toward the Raptor. He was decelerating toward landing on the deck when Merlin dropped out of hyperspace.

  Kowalski landed on the deck, then motored up the ramp into the barn and closed the door.

  “Module secure, Chief. Let’s get outta here.”

  Raptor gave the signal, and Merlin, Raptor, and the sixteen picket ships started accelerating out-system. Two squadrons of Phalian battleships were coming up hard from behind. In another hour, with the overtake velocity they had built, they would have missile range. Merlin projected her hypergate, and Raptor and the picket ships
disappeared one at a time into hyperspace, then Merlin pulled the gate over herself and vanished.

  The fire in the fire pit crackled as the flames danced. It was cool this evening, and the fire was welcome.

  “I heard they retrieved the memory modules from the lost freighters,” Peters said.

  “Six of them, yes,” Dunham said. “The other two were not found. They did not respond to the where-are-you signal, and the local system forces were getting too organized for a painstaking search.”

  “And they used the self-propelled HARPER units for those pickups?”

  “Yes. Turns out our engines specialists spend quite a bit of time with those propulsion units in advanced engine school. So we have a lot of existing skills with them already.”

  “So what did we learn?” Peters asked.

  “They were waiting for them. Sitting out on the direct line of approach from Sintar. Usually a light cruiser, on a circular patrol pattern perpendicular to the freighter’s expected path. And the host systems were in on it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “There were no local forces in a position to be an inconvenient witness to the atrocity. They were all over there, or over there – anywhere but nearby.”

  “That’s annoying.”

  “Yes. I’m not pleased about it,” Dunham said. “We’ve expressed our displeasure to the Phalian government, and they’re response is basically ‘We don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing happened here.’”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “We were thinking of having a picket ship following along in every international freighter’s wake, and have it drop into normal space, oh, thirty minutes or an hour after the freighter gets there.”

  “Then what?” Peters asked.

  “If the freighter’s under attack, the picket ship takes out the attacker. That’s another thing we learned from the memory module salvage operations. The picket ships are devastatingly effective against warships in normal space.”