8
The Aludra Star was drifting powerless in interstellar space, but by design and not by any sort of calamity. Captain Wolfe was taking the extra time to perfectly calibrate his navigation systems and get as precise a location as possible before executing their next and final warp flight into the Juwel System.
“I must stress again, sir, how uncomfortable I am with this course of action,” Commander Simmons said for at least the fifth time since the briefing had begun. “To call this unorthodox would be to gloss over the extreme danger you’re putting the ship and crew in.”
“I’m not unsympathetic to your concerns, XO,” Jackson said patiently, “but you’ve seen the data the same as I have. There is simply no feasible way to get to Juwel by hitting one of the normal jump points or even something as transparent as vectoring off and transitioning in somewhere else along the outer system. The Darshik blockade is too tight and their ships are too fast. Even if we could outrun them to the planet, which we can’t, we wouldn’t be able to decelerate fast enough to safely deploy the drop shuttles.”
“I understand the challenges, sir, but I must still—”
“Stop,” Jackson said. “Just … stop. This is not a negotiation, Simmons. This is the plan of action I have decided upon. I have weighed all of our options and, honestly, all of them tend to fall under the category of suicide run to varying degrees. At least this one gives us a chance to complete our mission.” He sighed before continuing, uninterested in convincing his recalcitrant executive officer but still trying to make sure the rest of his command crew understood the stakes.
“The only way to guarantee our survival is to either not attempt to fly into the Juwel System at all, fly through so fast that we transition out the other side without deploying the shuttles, or deploying the shuttles at such a velocity that nothing reaches the surface intact including our Marines.”
“We didn’t come all this way to not even try,” Commander Chambliss said. “Especially just so we can save our own skin.” Chambliss was the Flight OPS department head and as a full commander regularly pushed back against Simmons. Jackson had decided to let it go for now and see how it shook out. He didn’t have an especially high opinion of his XO so far, unfortunately that being a near-constant theme in his career, but he had no way to realistically replace him. He’d been shoved into the unfamiliar class of ship and given a mission nobody in their right mind would volunteer for … also a recurring theme in his years of service.
“The operation as I’ve outlined it moves forward,” Jackson said. “End of discussion. If you’re as concerned about the survival of the Star as you appear to be I would hope that motivates you to make sure our systems are dialed in as tight as they possibly can be. I can’t overstate the precision needed to successfully pull this off. Dismissed. Lieutenant Commander Sharpe, you stay, please.”
All his other officers filed out of the cramped conference room, Simmons muttering under his breath, while his chief engineer remained in his seat. Despite the fact that most of the critical details of Jackson’s plan fell squarely in his lap the quiet officer had decided not to speak up during the meeting or offer an opinion one way or another. That both intrigued and worried Jackson.
“So … what’s your honest opinion of the plan?” Jackson said without preamble as the hatch clanged shut. “No sugar coating.”
“I’ll need your command codes, sir,” Sharpe said.
Jackson just blinked twice, wondering if he missed something. “Excuse me?”
“Your command codes, the highest level you were given for the Star before we left the platform,” Sharpe repeated. “I need them to make your plan work, sir.”
“You’ll need to explain,” Jackson said, leaning back. “Why do you need any command codes I may or may not have?”
“We’re going to need to bypass several safety interlocks to pull this off,” Sharpe said, leaning forward. His demeanor could be described as … enthusiastic? Now Jackson really was worried.
“The problem is that by the time we transition in, get our bearing, fire the mains, begin to navigate”—Sharpe splayed his hands wide and leaned back in his seat—“we’ll be hundreds of thousands of kilometers off-target with no way to remedy it. We’ll have to come around which means fighting through the Darshik fleet anyway, something we’re doing all this to avoid.”
“So what’s the solution?” Jackson asked.
“Before we transition in I want to bring the mains online,” Sharpe said. “While we’re still in warp.”
Jackson sucked in a breath at that. “Have you been drinking, Sharpe?”
“No, sir,” Sharpe waved him off. “I know the standard fleet doctrine on this that’s beaten into our heads in the first year of the Academy. The powerful EM fields generated by the mains will disrupt the warp drive emitters and cause a distortion variance that will spread your molecules over several light years … that’s all bullshit.
“That was true with the first-generation warp drives and the old, unshielded MPDs. The Gen IV warp drives can easily compensate for any interference from the mains, not to mention the new MPD pods are all shielded and use more efficient, directional field emitters. It was a function of hiding their signature to enemy sensors but the result is that the mains really don’t put out that much radiated RF anymore. But the policy of full MPD shut-down during warp flight operations is so ingrained that it’s institutional.”
“Moving past that for a moment—and I’ll want to see your raw numbers on what you just said—why do you want to fire the mains before transition?” Jackson asked, beginning to get a headache and worrying that his chief engineer might either be semi-insane or have a chemical dependency problem.
“Getting back to my first point, I want the mains to fire at full reverse the moment the sensors determine we’re back in real-space,” Sharpe said. “Even before we have a position fix or if local space is clear of enemy ships. I want to bleed off our transition velocity as quickly as possible … it’s really quite essential for your plan to have a chance, sir.”
Jackson leaned back and thought about what the officer was telling him. Sharpe’s plan made sense on a few levels. He would have to bleed off relative velocity as quickly as he could and there was no harm in firing the engines at full reverse before they even knew where they were. The engines wouldn’t actually push them backwards into anything, just slow the ship along a flightpath they were already on.
The more he thought it over the more impressed he was with the youngish-looking lieutenant commander in front of him. Instead of spending his time in the meeting complaining about how dangerous the mission was, he had been working out all the technical details in his head. Not only that, but he’d been thinking in terms of overall strategy as it related to the operation of the Star. He’d only known one other engineer that was even aware that starships weren’t built just so they would have something to work on.
Jackson pushed aside the momentary jolt of pain at the memory of his old friend, Daya Singh, and looked at Sharpe with a new appreciation. When he’d first assumed command the chief engineer had struck him as efficient but not necessarily inspiring. His mousy appearance might have had a lot to do with that, Jackson admitted to himself with no small amount of shame given his own uphill struggle in Starfleet.
“Come to my office at the end of first watch, Lieutenant Commander, and we’ll see about what authorization codes I might have that you could use,” Jackson said.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Sharpe smiled and stood.
Jackson called out to him just as he was about to walk through the hatch. “And Sharpe … excellent work,” he nodded to the engineer. “I like officers who find paths around problems regardless of Fleet tradition and dogma. Keep me apprised of your progress.”
“Of course, Captain,” Sharpe said with an embarrassed smile and disappeared into the corridor. Jackson could only help but smile to himself at the engineer’s enthusiasm for such a reckless plan.
“Ah, shit,” he said, leaning back in the seat again. “Hopefully I don’t destroy this ship too.”
“That’s the third group,” Corporal Castillo said, lowering his optics. “And we’re losing the night.”
“We’re assuming the darkness has been an advantage,” Barton snorted. “So far these patrols haven’t seemed to mind it.”
“These are too big to be patrols, Sarge.” Castillo shook his head. “Each party has had fifty to seventy-five soldiers and they were carrying some heavy weaponry. These guys are either being sent out to harass our lines or they’re a distraction to keep our meager forces tied up.”
“Imagine if we had any orbital reconnaissance or even long-range drones?” Barton griped again. “Not being able to see what the enemy is doing over the horizon is a strange feeling.”
“Hasn’t the militia provided you with civilian aircraft and pilots?” Emil asked, still observing the enemy troops through the powerful optics on his sniper rifle.
“The Darshik shoot them down faster than we can find volunteer pilots,” Castillo said. “None of the aircraft we found around Westfall or the surrounding towns were much more than light transport or recreational craft. Not stealthy and not fast.”
“Yeah,” Emil agreed. “Most of what comes to Westfall is on the mag-lev trains. The capital has a big airport but most of those flights connect up north or to the eastern hemisphere.”
“Your capital, Neuberlin, it’s how far from Westfall?” Barton asked, frowning.
“Oh … maybe six hundred and fifty kilometers south of Westfall, maybe closer to six-seventy from here,” Emil said after a moment of thought. “Why?”
“I’m just thinking aloud,” Barton said. “But so far we’ve been pushed back by the Darshik, completely defensive at every engagement, but they’ve yet to come at us with the overwhelming numbers we know they have and crushed us. Why?”
“Why bother?” Castillo asked. “They have us pinned down so they don’t need to commit the forces to try and overrun us. They have to know that even though they’ll likely win the battle it sure as fuck won’t be free. Maybe they find the potential losses unacceptable.”
“Maybe,” Barton said doubtfully. “Emil, what would be the quickest way to get a large number of troops into Neuberlin if you wanted to bypass Westfall and the Marines deployed there?”
“Short of dropping them into the airport I mentioned? The Transcontinental Link is east of here. It skirts around Westfall and all the farms in the area and goes straight into Neuberlin before continuing on,” Emil said.
“I can see the wheels turning,” Castillo said. “But Command is monitoring the militia emplacements around Neuberlin not to mention the bulk of our original force is garrisoned in the city itself protecting the government. I can’t believe that the Darshik main force would be able to bypass Westfall to move on the capital without someone seeing them and raising the alarm.”
“I can’t see any other reason for them to keep fielding all these small skirmish units to hit and run down along our defensive perimeter,” Barton said. “They could take Westfall whenever they want if they feel like committing the forces to it. They’re in the same boat we are with their forward units lacking the logistical support and any heavy firepower, but they landed more troops than we did almost three to one. What if they’re trying to tie us up here so they can capture the capital intact? They’d gain control of the planet’s seat of power and one of the largest airports to begin bringing down more troops and equipment to hold it. It makes sense if you’re trying to subdue and control the planet.”
“I don’t know,” Castillo said. “You’re thinking we should head all the way to this road the kid was talking about and look?”
Barton shook his head. “No,” he said. “With just three of us on two off-road bikes it would be a waste of time. We can’t search enough of it or get the information back to Command in time to be of any use. Let’s keep pushing back to the forward base and report in like we’re supposed to.”
“That’s good to hear,” Castillo nodded. “We don’t need to be making decisions based on wild theories, no solid intel, and no communications.”
“Let’s get at it then.” Barton walked back over to his vehicle and climbed up onto it. “That patrol is well enough out of range now. No matter if my theory is right or not, we need to get back and report the increase in enemy contact surrounding our position.”
As they pulled away to the quiet hum of electric motors and chunky-treaded off-road tires grabbing at loose gravel Barton thought about what the Darshik goal might be for Juwel. Despite the dramatic shock of landers descending from orbit and alien troops crawling across the landscape the Darshik had yet to fully commit to either kicking humans off the planet or eliminate any military resistance and impose full control over the populace.
To the sergeant’s knowledge there had been no attempts at communication or demands presented so it was difficult to devise a defensive strategy when you had no idea what it was your enemy was after. Although they were being reinforced regularly, unlike the Marines, the Darshik hadn’t brought many aircraft or larger ground warfare machinery with them. They had employed very limited orbital bombardment to soften a few positions but so far the Marines had been able to meet them head on and keep the small toehold they had on the planet.
Putting aside the more high-level questions about what the Darshik hoped to accomplish with their half-assed invasion of a Terran star system, what was their immediate strategic goal? The town of Westfall had never made any sense, but if they had been trying to simply contain the Marines the entire time while the main force bypassed them and moved on the planet’s capital then there was a certain logic to it. For the millionth time since their hasty deployment he wished their support equipment had safely made landfall.
“You hear that?” Castillo asked. “Sounds like some of ours.”
“Yeah, let’s move,” Barton said and squeezed the accelerator, causing Emil to grab at his jacket from the sudden burst of speed. The relatively quiet electric ATVs allowed them to catch the sound of distant weapons fire, and a lot of it. There was the faint but discernible buzz of the Darshik weapons as well as the louder chatter of Terran rifles.
“It would be our luck to run into one of our own patrols that likely has a working radio, but then they’re also engaged in a gunfight with the enemy and we have no idea which direction we’re approaching from,” Castillo shouted from his own vehicle.
“I’d rather not approach the enemy from behind and have our own people shooting at us,” Barton shouted back, “but we don’t have any other options. Let’s just be careful.”
As it turned out, luck was on their side. As they crested the next rise they saw a hasty defensive formation of vehicles, both CENTCOM issue and commandeered civilian trucks, with two full squads of Marines firing the opposite direction of their approach. Barton slowed to a crawl and then lifted both his hands, taking them off the controls momentarily when two of the Marines watching the road noticed them. After just a cursory look one of the Marines waved the ATVs forward frantically.
“Get up here! They’re flanking us!” the one waving shouted and pointed to the north of the position. “Cover that rise while we call in for support!”
Barton, Castillo, and their young civilian charge rolled to a sudden stop and jumped off their vehicles, each unlimbering his weapon and moving to cover the direction the Marine had indicated.
“Emil, you’re cleared to engage any enemy you see come over that hill,” Barton said as he set up behind one of the heavy civilian trucks while turning to Castillo. “I guess that’s one advantage to fighting aliens: We can easily identify friendlies.” The corporal’s response was drowned out by the roar of Emil’s sniper rifle.
“Nice shot!” Castillo called out, sighting down through his optics. Barton pulled his own rifle up and saw that Emil had nailed a Darshik soldier coming up over the hill, taking it in the head before it even had its shoulders clear of t
he rise. He could see more forming up behind that one and squeezed off a few rounds in their direction despite knowing how far out of his effective range they were.
Emil was able to hold the flanking troops at bay long enough for the Marines they’d met up with to clear out the Darshik patrol ahead of them and push out with a small fire team to perform their own flanking maneuver. Soon the last pocket of enemy troops had nowhere to stay under cover and broke over the hill, running full bore towards Barton’s position to escape the humans that had snuck around to their left side through a dry drainage ditch.
“Weapons free!” a lieutenant called from just behind and to the right of Barton. “Watch the cross fire!” All the remaining Marines opened up on the mad rush of Darshik and, despite their best efforts to return fire, the result was all but inevitable. All the enemy lay on the ground unmoving while the only Terran casualty was the ATV that Castillo had been riding. The tires, an antiquated inflatable rubber type, had been ignited by enemy weapons fire and the whole vehicle was now cheerfully burning as the Marines and few civilians took stock of themselves after the fight.
“Who’re you, Marine?” the lieutenant asked, walking up as some of his men began burning the alien bodies.
“Sergeant Barton, sir,” Barton said. “2nd Platoon.”
“That’s what I thought,” the lieutenant nodded absently. “We were told to keep an eye out for any stragglers from your patrol. They found where you were ambushed but the aliens burned the vehicles so it wasn’t possible to get an accurate body count. Anything to report?”
Barton quickly recapped being ambushed far behind what was considered their outermost line, being pursued by Darshik patrols, and even their theory that the aliens might be trying to hold them near Westfall as a ruse.
Iron & Blood: Book Two of The Expansion Wars Trilogy Page 8
