by Dietmar Wehr
Janicot didn’t hesitate. “Seven months for the minimum force level, nine to ten months to bring the strike force up to where I’d really like to see it.”
“I see. If you sent out ships on commerce raiding with instructions to be back here no later than nine months from now, how much of a dent would pulling those ships in later make to our commerce raiding efforts?”
This time Janicot did hesitate. “Well, we’ve been averaging about two FED freighters crippled or destroyed each month. Given that we’d have to start holding back our ships in about five months to make sure they’re here when we need them, I’d say that we’d be giving up the opportunity to take out a minimum of 20 enemy freighters. But according to Captain Foster’s data, once Makassar starts ramping up production of ships, they’ll get to the point where they can replace those 20 freighters very quickly within another two to three years. It doesn’t take an Oracle computer to see that unless we do something and soon, the FEDs will eventually just overwhelm us with the sheer number of ships.”
Belloc sighed. “Yes, I understand that, Mykhel. How we deal with that over the long term is something we’ll have to come to grips with, but what concerns me in the short term is what’s also in your report. You say that the need to attack Makassar is so compelling and so obvious that the FEDs are bound to expect it and will do their best to prepare for it. I can’t help wondering if we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”
“Which is why we have to strike as soon as possible with a half-decent strike force, Nathan. I’ve got one of the new 400-meter cruisers already on commerce raiding duty, and I can have three more operational in ten months. As you know, this new class has neutron armor which will shrug off HE and KE missile attacks no matter how many missiles hit. Those four ships can drop down to a low altitude and pummel the industrial facilities at their leisure, and the FEDs won’t be able to do anything about it. While the new cruisers are smashing Makassar, our upgraded patrol cruisers will be attacking command and control facilities on Hadley. We know that the really important facilities will be buried deep underground and will therefore be safe from our HE and KE missiles, but there’ll be plenty of unprotected assets above ground to make the attack worthwhile. At the very least, the fact that we’ve attacked Hadley once will make the FEDs wonder if we’ll do it again, and that should divert some of their resources from offense to defense.” Janicot paused. “You know, Nathan…if we developed fission warheads, we could even knock out the underground installations too.”
“No, Mykhel! I’ve discussed that option with the Cabinet and there was unanimous opinion that the Systems States Union will not be the first to use weapons of mass destruction on planetary targets, not even military ones.”
“Okay, Nathan. Let’s hope we don’t end up regretting that decision,” said Janicot.
* * * *
Day 129/2543
Senior Lieutenant Remington checked the ship’s chronometer again. Twenty-five minutes left in her duty shift. Twenty-five more minutes of soul-destroying boredom as Trafalgar escorted the freighter City of Montevideo through the hyper-zone. This was the last escort mission before being redeployed to Makassar. She checked the radar scan, which was sending a micro-wave pulse out ahead of the ship every 10 seconds. There was nothing ahead of them for 1,500,000 klicks. The freighter was traveling behind Trafalgar. Any threat would be from up ahead. Both ships were within 100,000 kilometers of the edge of the hyper-zone, with a velocity of 702 kps. Another 2 minutes and 22 seconds and the freighter would be able to enter hyper-space. She looked over to the Command Station and noticed that the Skipper had his eyes closed. He was sleeping on duty, again. While there weren’t any specific regulations prohibiting the CO sleeping on the Bridge, it was generally understood by senior officers that it could undermine the respect the crew had for their CO.
She was about to try to get the Helm Officer to notice the Skipper’s condition when her Weapons Station console pinged. A ship had just emerged from hyper-space 155,000 klicks away and almost directly in their path.
“Unidentified contact!” she said in a voice that came out louder than she had intended. Before anyone had a chance to respond, her console pinged again. “That bogey has commenced active scanning, Skipper.”
If the CO had been asleep before, he wasn’t now. “Let’s go to Battle Stations and continuous scanning, people! Lor, program your missiles to target that ship, which will be designated Tango1, but hold your fire until I give the order, understood?”
“Understood, Skipper,” said Remington.
“Good. Com, notify City of Montevideo to—“
“Missile launch! Multiple missiles inbound! Too early to tell if they’re targeting us or the freighter!” yelled Remington. She was about to say more but did a double take when she checked the number of incoming missiles. Twenty! That couldn’t be right. Standard patrol cruisers of the kind the Union had captured could only fire 10 at a time.
“Is that number right, Lor?” asked the CO.
She queried her tactical computer. “Comp confirms 20 inbound, Skipper.”
“Son-of-a…” The CO shook his head in anger. “Okay…we’re obviously dealing with a new class of warship here. Lieutenant, fire all ten then reload with HE and standby. Com, notify Montevideo that we’re under attack and that I want her to maintain her course and acceleration. Trafalgar will be moving in closer. Helm, bring us to within one klick of the freighter and then match their speed and acceleration. Keep us between her and the missiles. Understood?”
“Got it, Skipper,” said the Helm Officer in a voice that was surprisingly calm. At this speed, moving the cruiser that close to the freighter was not a trivial task.
“First salvo is away!” said Remington. She looked at the main display, which was now tied in with her tactical comp. Tango1 was almost stationary, moving at only 2.5 kps. A red icon with the number 20 inside it was moving closer. They would reach the two approaching ships in less than two minutes. A green icon with the number 10 was moving towards the enemy ship. It would take almost five minutes to reach her, assuming she would still be there by the time Trafalgar’s missiles arrived. Remington didn’t think she would be. That was the advantage of staying outside the hyper-zone. That ship could jump away at literally the last second. She was sure the CO also understood the futility of firing back, but he had to try.
“What’s the status of our terminal defense?” asked the CO.
“All six batteries are powered up, tracking and set for automatic fire, Skipper,” said Remington.
After a brief pause, she heard the CO say, “Set the automatic fire range to maximum, Lieutenant.” She caught her breath. That was a course of action that was NOT recommended by the Book. Making the rail-gun cannon fire at much longer ranges would seriously degrade their accuracy. The Book said let the missiles get closer to have a better chance of hitting them, but then again, the Navy didn’t have a lot of actual combat experience with rail-gun terminal defense, so maybe the Book was wrong.
“Fire range reset to max, Skipper,” said Remington.
The CO must have been reading her mind. “With that many inbound missiles, we have to try to stop as many of them as early as possible.”
There was no time to respond to that comment. “Terminal defense is firing!” she said. She switched her gaze to the main display. The missiles were less than 60 seconds away now. The number inside the red icon suddenly dropped to 19. Each magnetic rail-gun cannon was firing a nickel/iron slug every two seconds. The slug would be accelerated up to a velocity of 976 kps by the time it left the gun barrel. It quickly became clear that even with six slugs firing every two seconds, very few were hitting at this range, but the range was dropping fast given the combined velocity of the ships and the missiles. With 30 seconds to go, there were still 15 missiles approaching.
Why isn’t that Union ship firing more missiles? she asked herself. That captain has to know by now that we’ve got terminal defenses. Once that ship micro-ju
mps away to avoid our missile salvo, it won’t be able to fire any more. No time to ponder that question any more.
“Five seconds to zero range!” There were eight missiles left now. She noticed the icon number drop to four, and then those four hit. Trafalgar seemed to stagger. The inertial dampeners couldn’t compensate fast enough for the sudden loss of inertia. If she hadn’t already buckled herself down to her chair, she would have hit the Bridge ceiling. Power to Bridge lights and equipment failed but only for half a second. When power resumed she heard the sound of the proximity alarm. They hit us with KEs, but none of them reached the Bridge, thank God! Then she realized why the proximity alarm had gone off. The force of the missiles’ impact had pushed Trafalgar backwards and therefore closer to the freighter by enough to threaten a collision.
“Helm!” That was all the CO had time to yell before the ship shuddered again, this time surging in the opposite direction. Remington was pushed back into her padded chair so forcefully that it knocked the wind out of her. As she gasped to get air back into her lungs, she realized what had happened. My God! The freighter hit us! Status lights all over the Bridge were switching from green to red. Acceleration had dropped to zero. The collision had apparently damaged all of Trafalgar’s engines. They still had power and artificial gravity. Radar was still working too. She checked her tactical systems. Two missile tubes were damaged. One rail-gun cannon was also off-line. Trafalgar could still fight, but without the ability to maneuver, she was a sitting duck. The CO was now conferring with the Engineering Officer. That left her free to look at the main display. The two icons representing the cruiser and the freighter were moving apart, although very slowly. Trafalgar was coasting, but City of Montevideo was still able to maneuver, and she was pulling away. The display sidebar indicated that the freighter was losing atmosphere.
Remington shifted her focus to their so far one and only salvo. Those missiles still had over two minutes to go before they reached their target. Tango1 was still maintaining its vector. Remington shut out the noise around her and concentrated on the 10 missiles. Tango1 would jump away any time now. She was sure of that. But when the time to interception hit zero, the ship was still there. All 10 missiles appeared to have hit the ship, but there was no sign of any damage. No venting atmosphere and she was still scanning.
“What the hell is Montevideo doing?” yelled the CO. Remington checked the freighter icon again. It was accelerating again at its maximum rate of 5Gs and therefore was pulling away from Trafalgar fast.
The Helm Officer answered the CO’s query. “She’s trying to break out past the hyper-limit, Skipper!”
“Idiots! They should have stayed within our defense zone! Tango1’s going to fire again!” shouted the CO. As soon as he finished saying it, a new red icon appeared on the display with the number 20 in it.
“Twenty missiles inbound!” said Remington. She knew her announcement was unnecessary since everyone could see the new information on the display, but trained to respond that way she had done it out of habit.
“Do we know what they’re aiming for yet?” asked the CO in a calmer voice.
She checked her console. “Inbound missiles are targeting the freighter, Skipper.” She saw him hit his chair’s armrest in frustration.
“Can we still fire back, Lieutenant?” asked the CO.
“Eight tubes are loaded and operational, Skipper.”
“Then fire them, Goddamit!”
“Second salvo away! Time to impact is three point three minutes.” It was an exercise in futility. She knew it. The CO knew it. Everyone knew it. The enemy missiles would hit the freighter first and almost certainly cripple her. At that point there would no longer be any reason for the Union commerce raider to stick around. It could micro-jump away before Trafalgar’s second salvo got anywhere close to it.
That’s exactly what happened. Twenty hits with kinetic energy warheads reduced the City of Montevideo to a coasting wreck. The Union ship jumped away, and the crew of Trafalgar waited for rescue shuttles and a tug to dock with the ship. Their escort mission had failed. They found out later that none of the freighter crew had survived.
* * * *
Day 139/2543
Masterson nodded to Trojan as he entered the General’s office. He motioned for Trojan to take a seat.
“I assume you’ve heard about the Council’s decision regarding your proposal?” asked Masterson.
Trojan nodded. “They approved small, tactical fission devices for use as anti-ship weapons only.”
“Yes. We’re lucky that Trafalgar’s radar data remained intact after that battle. The Union really did us a favor by attacking shipping near Earth. Not only did it frighten the members of the Council, but we also didn’t have to wait months for the information to get back here. It’s clear now that the Union is building ships with neutron armor. Tactical nukes are the only thing that can stop them. What the Council probably isn’t aware of yet is the fact that no one has built fission devices in hundreds of years because it hasn’t been necessary. We don’t have stocks of enriched uranium lying around, because we abandoned nuclear power centuries ago when we figured out how to exploit total mass to energy conversion. The engineers tell me that mass converters can’t be configured to explode, so we can’t use that technique for tactical warheads. Did Oracle have an alternative by any chance?”
“Yes, Sir. I asked Oracle that very question before we started to disassemble it. It so happens that Makassar has some rich uranium deposits. Ninety-nine percent of all uranium is U-238, which is useless for making bombs, but if you hit a U-238 atom with a neutron, it will be transmuted into plutonium 239, which can be used for a fission warhead. We know how to manipulate neutrons because that’s how we make armor composed of collapsed neutrons. I’ve been told that it should be relatively easy to fire neutrons at U-238 to get Pu-239. Now normally a plutonium fission warhead would be too big and heavy for use on anti-ship missiles, but Oracle found data, apparently originating all the way back to the second war of the 20th Century, that involves bombarding a small amount of fissile material with protons generated from a lithium plasma. I don’t understand the physics myself, but I’ve been told that we’ll be able to make warheads small enough for use on our standard AS missile that will still pack enough punch to blast through neutron armor.”
“Excellent! Now for the big question. How fast can these warheads be put into service?”
Trojan sighed. “There’s a lot of ifs involved, General. If I can find the right people and the right equipment before I head off to Hadley, and if I can get the uranium deposits on Makassar mined and refined AND if we can make the lithium plasma trigger work, then maybe we’ll have operational warheads in six to nine months.”
“We have to assume that the Union will use their armored ships to attack Makassar. They’d be idiots not to. Nine months might be too late. Have those warheads ready in six months, and I don’t care how you do it, understand?”
“Understood, Sir.”
Masterson’s stern expression relaxed. “Good. You’re leaving for Hadley in eight days, correct?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m not sure if I envy you or feel sorry for you. Once you’ve set up operations there, you won’t have me or anyone else looking over your shoulder, but that also means there won’t be anyone else to pass the buck to. The entire outcome of the war will rest on your shoulders. That’s a burden that I’m glad I won’t have to carry. By the way, the Council also approved your second star. I think I can safely say that you won’t end this war as a two-star general. Hell, by the time this war is over, I may be saluting you. Congratulations on your promotion, General. I think we’re done for now.”
As Trojan left Masterson’s office, he wondered how much sleep he was going to get in the next eight days. As if he didn’t already have enough on his shoulders, he now had to organize a new project. Well at least he could sleep all the way to Hadley.
Chapter Four
Day 13/2544<
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Drake was the last ship commander to arrive at the briefing. The other seven were already there, standing in a cluster. The CSO hadn’t arrived yet. Drake considered joining the group chat, but he was sure the briefing would start any second, so he sat down in the back row. Sure enough Admiral Janicot entered from a side door at the front and began to speak.
“If you’ll take a seat, we can begin.” The group quickly dispersed and Drake saw Davidson nod to him as he sat down. Janicot stepped over to a podium, and as he did so, the lights dimmed and a holographic star chart appeared at the front of the room.
“I know that some of you, maybe even all of you, have been wondering why you and your ships have been sitting on the ground these past weeks and months. You’ll learn the answer tonight. If you’re thinking that something big is in the wind, you’re right. Operation Sledgehammer is that something. We know from highly sensitive data smuggled out from Earth that the FEDs are in the process of building massive industrial capacity on the planet Makassar in the Franklin Tri-system.” The star chart dissolved and was replaced with a representation of the Franklin Tri-system. One of its planets was flashing in red. “For those of you not familiar with Makassar, it’s an airless planet, roughly the size of Mars, that has exceptionally high concentrations of a whole variety of metals. Their strategy is simple. For a relatively small investment of robotic equipment and personnel, that equipment will mine, refine and manufacture more robotic equipment. Capacity will grow exponentially until it reaches the point where they can start to build lots of ships, tanks and missiles. We know that they expect to have 1,000 warships and 50,000 tanks within six to eight years, and if we sit back and let them, they’ll do it.” He paused.
