Khrushchev would have wished for more of those new weapons, just as she would have wanted more ships to guard this convoy. Unfortunately, that was true of any force commander. More was always better.
“What else are they giving us?” asked the Commodore, looking at the tactical plot, which showed the trailing squadron twenty light minutes back from the body of the convoy. Meaning com was only possible through grav pulse, as anything transmitted through the electromagnetic spectrums would have fallen back to normal space well before reaching target.
“They think it was a translation of fourteen vessels into hyper VI, just on the edge of detection range. Identification, unknown. Type and mass, unknown. Vector, unknown, but presumed to be in our general direction.”
And they are unlikely to catch us, thought the Commodore, wondering who they could be way out here in the middle of nowhere. The convoy was moving through hyper VI at point nine light, the greatest safe velocity possible for the freighters and liners, with their much less robust particle fields. They were approximately one hundred and three point two hours away from deceleration, and would take just a little over a day to get down to point two c outside the hyper VI barrier to the system, from whence they would start their stair step of translations. Because of the time dilation of relativistic effects, which worked in hyperspace as well, they were only forty five hours from translation according to the clocks kept on the ships.
Twelve hours later the hope that the unknowns were out of the picture was shattered.
“Report from Gjoa, Commodore,” reported the Flag Com Officer, who was now monitoring the same channels as the flagship’s communications section. “They’re picking up fourteen sources coming up from astern at point nine-six light. Still accelerating at an estimated twelve hundred gravities.”
“My God,” blurted the Commodore, looking back at the tactical holo, seeing the fourteen red arrows that had appeared. The acceleration meant they were either small ships, since the Empire had vessels that could reach near to those levels of pseudogravitation, but none that were capable of hyper. Or that they had massive inertial compensators, which the humans had found to eventually reach diminishing returns. Or they could handle much higher gravity loads than other living creatures. If they are living creatures, thought the Commodore, a chill running down her spine.
Their velocity was just as alarming. The human ships could at most pull point nine five light, due to the sleet of deadly particles such velocities engendered. The merchant ships among them could pull point nine c, still higher than most ships of their type, since they had been configured to go from point a to b at near military speeds. So again, these beings either had much better shielding, something humans were still trying to develop, with little success. Or they weren’t as bothered by particle radiation as any known organic form.
“Any identification of class?” she asked, hoping that she might get the information to fill in the gaps.
“Preliminary estimates put them between one and three million tons, ma’am.”
Which means they are not small couriers or attack craft. More like heavy cruisers.
“Orders, ma’am?” asked the Drake’s Captain, who was also the convoy’s lead ship’s commander.
“I don’t want those ships within missile range of the convoy.” Even though we don’t know what their range is, or if they even have hyper capable missiles. But I have to assume they do. “Gjoa is to warn them off by all means possible. They are not to fire until fired upon, or until the unknowns are fifteen minutes within a destroyer missile’s maximum range of the convoy.” She suspected that their range would be greater than even her own cruisers, but she wanted her destroyers to be able to fire if needed. “When the unknowns enter that range, I want our ships to fire a warning shot, followed by fire for effect if they do not respond to that shot.”
“They’re kind of outnumbered and out massed back there, ma’am,” said the Captain.
“Endurance, Greenville and the two flanking destroyers will drop back to support them,” she ordered.
“Not the Drake, ma’am?”
Khrushchev thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t want to strip the convoy of all of its close in missile protection, so I want us and New Potsdam to remain in support of the fragiles.”
That still gives them the advantage in mass, but not quite of the same magnitude, she thought. I could pull back the forward screen, and then drop Drake and New Potsdam back with the rear screen, which would probably give us the mass advantage. She thought about that for a moment, then dismissed it, not knowing what waited ahead. The wait to find out did not take long.
“Roebuck is reporting twelve contacts ahead, accelerating at twelve hundred gravities on a vector that will bring them into contact with the forward screen in forty-nine minutes. CIC is designating original force as Bogey One, new contact as Bogey Two.”
In that instant the entire equation was changed. Now she couldn’t pull back the forward screen, and couldn’t afford to reinforce the force to the rear. Doctrine called for trying to defeat the unknown forces in detail, but doing so would leave the merchantmen and liners open to attack from the other force.
And we still don’t know what they are, she thought, staring at the tactical that was showing a situation she was very uncomfortable with. Pirates? Probably not in those numbers. And pirates are more likely to attack an easier target than we present.
On the face of it, piracy did not seem like a viable tactic for the accumulation of fortune. It still occurred, especially out on the fringes, or beyond the borders of the major powers. One capture could set the rogues up for life, and they could rely on the thought that some pirate somewhere made that capture every couple of months, so why not them. Or, more likely, they could find a technologically backward system to extort/exploit. But this didn’t feel like an attack by pirates, since most of that ilk weren’t of the proper personality type to get along in large groups.
“Change of orders,” she said to the holo of the Captain of the Drake, glancing over at her Com Officer to make sure he was also getting her words to transmit to the entire squadron. “All ships are to accelerate up to point nine three light.” She knew that would cause some problems with the particle shielding of the non-warships, and the people aboard would probably sustain some cellular damage. That could be repaired, while being blown apart by a missile launched by a hostile ship could not.
“Rear force is to remain in place at their current distance, increasing acceleration to match that of the convoy.”
“They’re going to be overwhelmed, ma’am,” said Drake’s commander, Captain Timofeyavich..
“They’ll just have to do the best they can,” she replied, not liking the probable effects of that command on those ships and crews, and not really sure what else she could order. “Meanwhile, Drake, Endurance and the destroyers will boost ahead and join with the forward screen. We will blast our way through those ships and make a way for the convoy.”
“We still aren’t sure about their motivations, ma’am,” said the Captain, no disapproval in his tone, just playing devil’s advocate.
“I cannot risk the convoy. There are one hundred and ninety-five thousand of an endangered sentient species aboard, not to mention twenty-five thousand precious skilled workers for Bolthole.” She thought about those other people for a moment, some of whom had families along with them. The great majority were humans, with a smattering of Phlistarans, Gryphons, Malticons, and some others. All of them citizens of the Empire, and her responsibility at the moment.
I wish there was a real combat fleet commander in charge here, she thought while she continued to stare at the holo. Not that she doubted her own abilities, in her chosen path. She had earned her position as a flag officer because of her ability as an explorer. Not because of a record of vanquishing enemies in overwhelming numbers.
“And New Potsdam?”
“Get me the Captain of New Potsdam on the com?” ordered the Commodore,
and a moment later she was looking at the face of Captain Stone Mason. She was sure that the Captain’s name had caused him considerable teasing as a child, but he had grown into the name, and was known to be as steady a combat commander as there was.
“I have a very specific task for your ship, Stone. She is to stay close to the convoy. You’re their last line of defense, and I don’t want you to leave them uncovered for any reason. Understood?”
“New Potsdam can add quite a bit of firepower to your force ma’am,” said the other officer in a gravelly voice that fit his name. “She carries a larger hyper capable missile load than one of your battle cruisers.”
And I would feel so much better about my chances with her at my side, thought the Commodore, shaking her head. “If we don’t clear that force ahead, and stop the one behind, you are the only thing that’s going to get these people through. That is your one responsibility. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it, Captain.”
The holo died, and the Commodore looked to her Com Officer once again. “Send out the order. Execute.”
The Commodore looked back at the holo, where the numbers below the green vector arrows started to change. Every commercial vessel in the convoy, every freighter, liner and transport, went from coasting at point nine light to boosting ahead at two hundred and fifty gravities, the maximum of the least capable vessel. New Potsdam boosted along with them, holding steady at the center of the formation, where she could best respond to threats from any direction. The ships in the rear screen boosted at the same rate of acceleration, maintaining their distance from the convoy. The front screen continued to coast, waiting for their reinforcements. While the two battle cruisers, the light cruiser and the destroyer pair accelerated ahead at over five hundred gravities, heading for their rendezvous with the front screen.
Warning klaxons went off over Drake, crew donned their battle armor, weapons were brought up to full power, or loaded into tubes, depending on their nature. The unknown ships continued on their original course, at their original accelerations, as if the Imperial ships had not changed their posture at all.
“Gjoa is continuing to cast warnings to Bogey One,” called out the voice of the Com Officer. “There is no response from Bogey One. Bogey One will be at the designated range in two minutes, thirty-three seconds.”
“Condition of Bogey Two?” asked the Commodore, linking into CIC, who had the best take on the tactical situation, and trying to get comfortable in her battle armor, something she had always had trouble with.
“Bogey Two still accelerating on closing vector with forward screen at twelve hundred gravities. They will be in engagement range in four minutes and fifty-three seconds.”
“And when will we be in range?” she asked, knowing that her own capital missiles had about five more minutes of boost and hyper duration than those of the lighter ships.
“Six minutes, twenty-three seconds,” called back CIC.
And they’re on their own for about a minute and a half, she thought. They should be OK. They have to be OK.
All communications and tracking were occurring by graviton emission, allowing quick exchange of information well above the speed of light. But also limiting that information. It was hoped that the opponent was working with the same limitations, but no one really knew.
“Missile launch,” called out CIC, voice taut with tension. “Gjoa has launched her warning shot. Closest approach to Bogey One in five minutes and eleven seconds.”
The green arrow of the hyperdrive missile separated from the icon of the light cruiser, headed back at five thousand gravities. It was actually slowing down in relation to the firing ship as it fought the velocity that the vessel carried. In relation to the oncoming ships of Bogey One it was adding forty nine kilometers a second. By the time it reached its target it would be heading in at a closing velocity of point nine nine light, with the addition of the velocity of the approaching ships.
“We have missile launches from Bogey One,” called out CIC. “Multiple launches, estimating fourteen missiles launched, four thousand two hundred gravities acceleration.”
The new red arrows appeared, on a heading toward the rear screening force. It seemed like a pretty feeble response to the shot at them, which the other force had definitely misinterpreted.
“Gjoa estimated the missiles are in the eight thousand ton range,” said the Com Officer, listening in on the com between the cruiser and the flagship’s CIC.
“Those aren’t missiles,” said Captain Timofeyavich over the com. “Those are attack ships.”
And if I’m right, they are truly unmanned, thought the Commodore as the red arrows crossed the path of the green arrow.
“Gjoa has re-tasked her missile to attack,” reported CIC. “Force launching first volley, now.”
Twenty green arrows appeared near to the Imperial ships, heading toward Bogey One at five thousand gravities. Fifteen seconds later the second volley went out, nineteen, all that they had of the hyper capable missiles. All they would be able to fight the battle with at range. After this, they would have to close with the enemy and fight with beam weapons. And that was an even scarier proposition, considering this foe was a complete unknown, with unknowable capabilities.
“Change of orders,” announced the Commodore as she watched the arrows, which looked so harmless on the plot, approach the other arrows they were intended to destroy. “All ships in forward force are to fire on Bogey Two as soon as they enter range.”
She continued to stare at the holo, waiting for weapons to enter the range of her ships, so she could see what the enemy capabilities truly were.
* * *
The single missile fired by the light cruiser Gjoa came in on its target at almost point nine nine light. Half blinded by particle acceleration, it still had a clear enough view of that target to adjust course, aiming for a direct hit. If the Imperials didn’t know the capabilities of their opponents, neither did that opponent know theirs. The targeted vessel opened up with lasers and fast firing projectile weapons, while her sisters tried to vector their own beam weapons in on the fast moving missile, which saved its own surprise for last.
The missile’s ECM came up on full power, blasting the space around it with a cacophony of different frequencies, showing up on the sensors of the enemy ships as dozens of objects that weren’t there. It spoofed the fire control of the enemy vessels, enough to let the missile get within a microsecond of the targeted ship. They still found the solution at the last moment, vectoring their beams in to strike the missile, just a fraction of a second after the warhead flowered the twenty submunitions it carried, sending them into the enemy ship in an unstoppable shotgun blast. Only five of the multiple warheads struck, each with a mere twenty megatons of antimatter. The rest detonated within twenty kilometers of the ship, sending their heat and radiation sheeting into the vessel.
Part of the ship came out of the harsh bright light of the detonation, about half of its million and a half ton bulk. Nothing living could have survived the acceleration forces involved, and it was amazing that enough hyperdrive capacity was still up and running to keep it from falling out of hyper. Emergency systems started repairs as the vessel tumbled away. It would not be back in this fight, but it would be back, and every kilogram of machinery was vital to cause, now that the old enemy was back.
The wave of missiles came in next, using both their greater acceleration and the enemy’s own velocity to get to them before the enemy weapons, which were playing catch up to the human ships. The first volley had held back its acceleration just a bit, while the second volley had pushed it just a little harder than max for twenty seconds, before both volleys, now combined into one wave of thirty-nine missiles, coasted for another twenty seconds before going back into full boost.
Fifteen of the missiles were the larger cruiser version, the other twenty-four destroyer weapons with lesser ECM capabilities and smaller warheads. The destroyer weapon
s came in as the decoys, more or less, sending out signals intended to make them easier to track, at first, while the cruiser weapons hid behind their wall of static. The enemy ships had learned from the first missile something of the capabilities of these weapons. They took out twenty-one of the destroyer class missiles on approach, turning them into bright pinpoints of light that faded almost immediately as their matter fell out of hyper, followed more slowly by the released photons. Three destroyer class missiles made it to final approach, only to be blotted out just before they got into effective detonation range. Of the fifteen cruiser missiles, six were killed as they moved into attack range, three more just before they got into final release range, and six released their multiple warheads. Half of those were killed before they could strike, though most did some damage on detonation, sending enough particles and energetic photons into the ships to cause significant surface damage. The other fifty-nine hit their targets, sending the shock of the blast wave and the hellish fury of heat and radiation through the enemy hulls.
When the blasts cleared, there were still eight intact enemy vessels heading for the rear screening force. Four others had been blotted from existence, while one fell behind, trailing debris and barely keeping itself in hyper. A minute later it fell back to normal space in a catastrophic translation, probably destroyed, but if not, at least out of the battle.
Now it was the turn of the enemy weapons. They were not really missiles, though they had been fired with no thought of their survival. More like kamikaze attack ships, though they lacked the crews that would have been necessary to make them true suicide vessels. They now approached at a closing speed of point four-two light, easy enough for the Imperial ships to track. As they entered range the Imperial ships starting launching their limited store of hyper capable counter-missiles, cycling them through their launchers on the theory that if they didn’t stop these weapons, it wouldn’t matter if they had any left over for the next wave.
Exodus: Machine War 1 Supernova. Page 32
