by John Ringo
"Gung-ho, sir," Silver said, trying not to sigh. Lieutenant Colonel Maddox was a great guy and a good commander. But he had a real problem with buzzword bingo. The company commanders had bets whether it would last in combat. Which meant Silver had just made ten bucks. If he lived to collect it.
"Roger, Two-Two . . ." Booth said, looking at the schematic of the battle area. The corridor the battalion commander was talking about was clearly highlighted and they even had good locations on the heavy enemy concentrations. "I can open that up like a tin can if you want. Tell your boys to hunker down for incoming."
"Can you actually open that like a tin can?" Kepler asked.
"Roger, sir," Booth said, sending the commands. "I'm going to use the main gun on the Monaghan. They're in best position. Permission to fire?"
"Stand by," Kepler said, double checking the vectors. The main gun on the Monaghan was a one hundred terawatt system. A near miss would cook the Marines. "Roger, permission to fire."
"Permission to fire, aye," Booth said, pressing the firing button. "Eat coherent light, lizards."
"Bloody hell!" Father Patricelli said as the overhead of the corridor flashed into gas. The metal went white hot for just a moment, filling the corridor with a light bright enough to be a nuke.
Despite being evacuated, the pressure of the gaseous material could be felt on their suits. And it was hot.
"So much for resistance," Rammer said, poking his head out from behind the shield.
The length of corridor where the Rangora had been gathering was now so much twisted and melted metal. What hatches remained were probably welded shut.
"We won't be going that way," Father said.
"Which we ain't," Pridgeon commed. "We're holdin' the LZ for Charlie and Bravo. Just make sure nobody comes that way no more."
"Gotcha, Staff," Rammer said. "Las . . . Chaos, we need more ammo!"
"Got that, Rammer," the private said, heading back to the LZ.
"And watch out for . . ." Rammer said just before there was a truncated scream.
"Bloody hell," Father said, shaking his head. "Corpsman!"
"Bits of hot metal . . ." Rammer finished. "That can puncture your suit."
"Looks like he's gonna live," Father said, turning to observe the private being carted away.
"Boy needs to join the Army or something," Rammer said. "And, by the way, we still need more ammo."
"On it," Father said. "Hope we don't run out. Nearest resupply's the Troy."
THIRTY-SIX
"Bit of a dog's breakfast," Admiral Kinyon said, flexing his jaw.
The tac screen was too cluttered to make any sense of it. There were 216 separate Sierras—ships that were designated as targets—as well as a stream of outgoing and incoming missiles. Even on the large holo in the middle of the CIC, the entire thing was filled with vector markers and ship designators.
"The AV's too tough to spread our fire on multiple Sierras," Kinyon said. "All fire on the AV. Wait for it, though. I want to get close enough that we can rotate to engage with laser and missiles simultaneously and mass strike with the missiles. Then work your way down the Aggressors, cruisers, etcetera."
"They appear to be bolting for the gate," Captain Sharp pointed out. "If we wait too long we'll miss some of them."
"Fine," Kinyon said. "We're between them and the gate. The President wanted to send a message. Battleships streaming air and water, limping through the gate is about the right balance of nice don't you think? Don't let any of them get through without at least a kiss on the cheek."
"It's not firing," Lhi'Kasishaj said. "Why is it not firing?"
"Waiting to get us in killing range," Colonel Koax said. The Fleet tactical officer was considering the various vectors on the screen. "Since it has managed to maneuver around the gate, we can't get through without passing through its primary cone of fire. It is now apparent that there are only two zones which are fully prepared for battle. It can only fire its laser from those two zones."
The Troy's onboard laser had been a very unpleasant surprise. Based on the spectroscopy of the light, it was composed of several different emitters. More emitters and more power than an AV main gun.
"By closing, simply absorbing our fire, it can enter a range where no matter how many laser clusters we have, the missiles will overwhelm them," Koax continued. The fleet was now accelerating for the gate but the Troy, despite its relatively low delta V, had started off closer than the Fleet. All it really had to do was slow down, move to the side and the gate went "past" it. The fleet was having to accelerate to catch up. "And then it can use the laser to finish us off."
"You sound as if we are already defeated," Star Marshall Gi'Bucosof snapped.
"We are, Star Marshall," the colonel said, calmly. "And all the bluster in the universe does not change that. The best we can do is as much damage as possible while we die."
"Where is your trick, Gi'Bucosof?" Lhi'Kasishaj said. "You said that it would fail. That you had an inside agent."
"Any moment now," Gi'Bucosof said. "Any moment . . ."
"I've got a destroyer accelerating into our basket, sir," Sharp said. "Permission to keep him from phoning home?"
The Rangora had already triggered the gate, creating a rippling surface of quantum discontinuity leading to the Glalkod system.
"Make sure the pieces go through the gate," Kinyon said. "Clean up is always such a bitch. Other than that, permission granted."
"Main laser," Sharp ordered. "Take down the shields then cut him in half. You'll need to dial down the power appropriately."
"Now would be good, Star Marshall!" Lhi'Kasishaj snarled as the destroyer Ayachor was cut in half with almost mathematical precision. The destroyer from the Yo'Phafodolh battle group had been the closest to the gate and safety. Or what seemed it might be safety. The entire battle group was entering range to be engaged by the enemy's lasers. Which meant they were all about to be ravaged.
"I don't know . . ." Gi'Bucosof said. "It should have been rendered impotent by now! But . . . it is not firing missiles. Perhaps it is . . . out? There was a great battle in the Sol syst . . ."
"Missile launch," Colonel Koax reported. "Low-rate fire from one sector. Target is the Yo'Phafodolh."
✺ ✺ ✺
"Who's your daddy?" Sharp said as the stream of missiles hit the shields of the Aggressor. The breacher missiles cracked the hard-held shields like an egg then the following wave slammed into the side of the battlewagon, turning it into so much chaff.
The main laser was, in the meantime, reaching out with almost delicate precision and shredding the smaller vessels of the battle group. Cruiser shields lasted less than a second under the hammer of the multi-emitter laser, turning reflective and then black before failing utterly. The laser cared even less for their heavy armor, cutting through them like a blowtorch through light snowfall. Destroyer and frigate shields failed like a popped soap bubble.
The gate was still open and the shredded masses of the vessels were being cleaned up by exiting into the next system. There might even be survivors. There were certainly enough distress pods.
"This isn't going to work," Lhi'Kasishaj said. "That . . . thing can destroy the entire fleet. We must scatter."
"We don't have the acceleration to come back around," Gi'Bucosof said.
"By we I meant the many thousands of Rangora you have brought to this defeat," Lhi'Kasishaj said. "The other we, meaning the Dwarf Mauler, will battle the station to cover their retreat. Some of the cruisers and destroyers can survive at least. If the Terrans do not hold this system, those may be able to make it back to Rangora space."
"Never," Gi'Bucosof said. "They will screen our retreat through the gate. I will not sacrifice myself to . . ."
His pronouncement was cut off as Lhi'Kasishaj slid a pain stick, set to lethal, into his back. The High Marshall jerked and grunted for a moment until Lhi'Kasishaj let up on the trigger then slumped to the floor.
"Send the order to s
catter," Lhi'Kasishaj said. "Tell the captain to maneuver so as to catch the fire of the station and screen the fleet. Full power to screens."
"Yes, Star Marshall," Koax said, keying in the orders.
"The good news is that getting hit by a missile is, I understand, a rather quick death," Lhi'Kasishaj said as two spacemen quietly dragged the High Marshall from the CIC. "The way things were going, Kazi was going to keep us alive for years."
"Screaming," Colonel Koax said.
✺ ✺ ✺
"Change in delta," Captain Sharp said. "Their fleet isn't trying to make the gate anymore. They're scattering."
"All of them?" Kinyon asked. "That's not good."
"Yes, sir, tracking them all down will be a good bit of work," Sharp said. "And yes, sir, they're all scattering. Not even maintaining unit cohesion. All laser fire has stopped. Except the AV. It's still on course for the gate. And still wasting its laser on North. Some of the battleships aren't going to get out of our basket. Depending on how long it takes to take down the AV, we'll still be able to get most with missiles."
"Range?"
"Twenty thousand kilometers," Sharp said.
"Maneuver control, rotate to engage the AV," Kinyon said. "Open fire as you bear, Captain Sharp."
"Aye, sir!" Sharp boomed. "Arrrh!"
"Troy drive has ceased operation," Colonel Koax reported. "Fire is still engaging anything that enters its basket. Whoa! Heavy grav signatures. Not sure what . . ."
"It's rotating," Lhi'Kasishaj said. He'd been watching the visuals, unlike the colonel. "It's rotating to engage us."
"This is going to be unpleasant," Koax said, sitting back and lacing his fingers across his chest. "And, I suspect, not particularly quick. Permission to speak frankly, sir?"
"What am I going to do about it?" Lhi'Kasishaj asked. "Denounce you?"
"Didn't care for you much until a moment ago," the colonel said. "Don't like you high-born much at all. But somebody finally killing that idiot Gi'Bucosof was a sight for sore eyes."
"Not surprising," Lhi'Kasishaj said. "Except for people that matter, I don't try to be charming. And you don't matter. You don't survive in upper circles by being nice to minions. You save that for your superiors."
"I shall keep that in mind, sir," Koax said. "For about thirty seconds. Missile launch."
An AV mounted six hundred and eighty-three laser defense clusters. The clusters could rapidly engage and retarget missiles, permitting each cluster to take out multiple inbound vampires.
As long as there wasn't something in the way like a previously destroyed missile filling space with chaff. Then not only were following missiles screened by the material, even if they could be targeted the laser, often as not, hit some bit of a previous missile and scattered.
The Troy was down to firing a thousand missiles per second. Normally, they would be impossible to detect with the naked eye. But the track of the missile stream headed for the AV was easily followed as a rolling storm-front of explosions as missiles sacrificed themselves on the altar of pawns.
The tide slid inexorably closer and closer to the embattled AV. Finally, the wall of moving fire reached the screens of the battlewagon which went black under the power of hundreds of penetrators.
The missiles clawed at the screens for a moment then they failed.
The AV rolled frantically, trying to spread the damage. All that did was kill more and more shields as a thousand nuclear wasps turned the Dwarf Mauler into the system's largest navigational hazard.
"Admiral, we're down to low yellow on missiles," Sharp said. The series of previous battles had lowered their missile stores. Taking out the AV was essentially depleting them.
"Finish it off with the laser," Kinyon ordered. "Take it all the way out. I don't want anything larger than a sedan drifting into Glalkod. Retarget remaining missiles on the fleeing battleships."
"Aye, sir," Sharp said. "Retargeting."
"Admiral," Captain DiNote said. "We've got shuttles returning from Objectives One and Two for resupply and reinforcements. They're having a good bit of trouble subduing the Rangora holding the docks."
"Maneuver control," Kinyon said. "Get us reoriented to return to the docks area. Seems we need to indicate our interest."
"I think they'll get the picture," Sharp said.
Colonel Bolger looked through the hole in the overhead at the mass of the Troy drifting above then slightly lower at the Rangora commander of Objective One. Bolger wasn't a small guy. The Rangora overtopped him by a good three feet.
"We've got a couple of choices here," Bolger said, rolling his chew from one cheek to the other then spitting. "I can pull my guys out and then the Troy can do to you what it just did to your AV. Or you can play nice and we'll take you to Earth and you can rebuild a couple of cities for us. We even feed you guys, which is a really good deal."
Arranging the cease fire had been a bit tricky. The Rangora were sort of territorial by instinct. Having human Marines running around in one of their docks was not their idea of acceptable behavior.
"What terms are you offering?" the admiral asked.
"Binary solution set," Bolger said. "You surrender and we don't kill you."
"Repatriation for myself and my officers," the admiral said.
"Why?" Bolger asked. "You're going to have your heads on a block when you get back. This way you might live."
"That is a valid point," the admiral said. "What about our wounded."
"You've got docs," Bolger said, shrugging. "We don't kill off the wounded if that's what you mean."
"Then . . . I formally surrender," the admiral bit out. He reached for his side-arm, carefully, and handed it over butt first.
"Gonna make a nice souvenir," Bolger said. The pistol was the size of a laser carbine. "Admiral Kinyon, Objective One has surrendered."
"Roger that," Kinyon commed. "Two is still fighting but I think that's the Pathans to tell truth. They don't seem to understand the concept of cease fire. Ask the Admiral to come up to the Troy to discuss details."
"Gung ho, sir," Bolger said. "And . . . we're done here. Except for the fiddly bits."
EPILOGUE
"Send a missile through the gate to Glalkod," the President said as she watched the replay of the battle. "Set to broadcast. Tell the Rangora it's time to negotiate."
"Yes, ma'am," the new Secretary of State said, shaking his head. "Parameters?"
"Earth control of E Eridani is the minimum I'll accept at this time," the President said. "Start with withdrawal by the Rangora to the positions they held before the Multilateral Talks."
"That is . . . broad," the SecState said. "Give up not only the Glatun Federation but all the bordering star systems? They won't go for that."
"No, they won't," the President said. "But they will eventually. Eventually, they'll accept unconditional surrender."
"What am I looking at?" To'Jopeviq asked. The holo was an activated gate with . . . something coming out. Beor had slid the data crystal in and started his holo without as much as a word of explanation.
"Holo from the Glalkod squadron," Beor answered as the view zoomed in. Manually based on the unsure movements.
"That is . . . was a destroyer," To'Jopeviq said as the view panned with the remnants of a Gufesh. It moved back to the gate as more debris started coming through. Most of it was unrecognizable. Occasionally he could pick out bits from parts of ships. Bits of Cubofof, Gufesh and Sheshibas. Half an Aggressor. It looked as if someone had taken an entire fleet and run it through a shredder. There were lights of distress pods among the debris. At least some of the crews had survived.
Then there was a mass burst of debris. It had spread out so it nearly filled the gate and its trajectory was going to scatter it throughout the system unless someone got busy on clean-up soon.
What it had been . . . ?
"And that is what is left of the Dwarf Mauler," Beor said. "Marshall Gi'Bucosof and Marshall Lhi'Kasishaj's flagship. The largest single p
iece, other than escape pods, was nine meters on a side. Which had to be deliberate. Most of it was laser fire."
"What happened?" To'Jopeviq asked.
"The Troy is mobile," Beor replied. "It entered the E Eridani system and engaged the fleet there."
"Mobile?" To'Jopeviq said. "How?"
"The answer still has everyone hissing in disbelief," Beor said. "The Terrans left after taking possession of the AV docks and support ships. We have intelligence from survivors. Including some ships that scattered and successfully hid from their sensors. You'll have access to all of it. High Command has increased the importance of this working group. I'm . . . not privy to internal discussions, The information I've received was that someone pointed out that so far we've been right and command has been consistently underestimating the Terrans. That has to stop."
"I'm not sure it is possible to overestimate them," To'Jopeviq said, standing up. "Bring that to the briefing room along with whatever other intelligence we got. Get the rest in there. We have work to do."
"Absent companions," Bill Erickson said, raising his glass.
The Acapulco was still under reconstruction. Moving Troy had involved a certain amount of . . . slosh. Most of the roof had been ripped off. Xanadu, in general, looked as if it had been hit by a tsunami. But it was open for business and people couldn't live forever on air and food alone. A certain amount of beer was paramount.
"Absent companions," Dana said, clinking glasses with Rammer.
"And there's a bunch of those," Chief Barnett said, sitting down at the bar. There was a small guy with her, bearded and clearly civilian. "This is Butch, guys. He's a friend of BF."
"Where is BF?" Bill asked.
"Bought it," Butch said.
"How?" Dana asked, her eyes widening.
