Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga)

by Grant, Peter

  Bradshaw replied, “I like your plan, Sir. It’s short, sweet and simple. D’you want prisoners?”

  “Only if you can take them without risk to yourselves. Remember, there are only sixteen of us, and probably a lot more of them. If they try to argue, or other factors make it too dangerous to give them a chance, don’t bother!” Hard chuckles from the Marines.

  “Aye aye, Sir. Just one concern, Sir. I heard what you said about what might happen if the pirate’s reactor lets go. What’ll that do to us if we’re coming in beneath her, Sir?”

  Steve grinned. “Don’t worry, Gunnery Sergeant. I’ll stay ten to fifteen clicks below her, far enough away that our armor will protect us from the radiation. I don’t want to glow in the dark any more than you do!” More laughter.

  “That’s a relief, Sir – although you might look quite good, er, glowing in the dark, I mean, Sir!” That brought the biggest laugh of all. Even Steve had to join in.

  “Gunny, you’re a menace! Anyway, one more point. Lieutenant, I want two Marines assigned to me, please. You’ll be busy fighting any surviving pirates, but I’ll have to move independently to secure vital equipment. I’m not in armor, although I’ll take a bead carbine from the shuttle before I board. I’ll need those two to keep me alive, if necessary, and keep pirates off my back while I’m doing my job.”

  “Aye aye, Sir. Gunnery Sergeant, assign two of the roughest, toughest, nastiest people you’ve got to escort the Senior Lieutenant. If they let anything happen to him, they’d better pray the pirates get to them before I do!”

  “Aye aye, Ma’am!”

  “Thanks,” Steve acknowledged. “All personnel, seal helmets if you haven’t already done so, and activate the team radio channel.”

  He reached for his plasglass-visored helmet, pulled it over his head and locked it onto the spacesuit’s hard mounting ring around his neck. It sealed automatically, and he heard a faint hiss of air as the suit pressurized around him. Reflected in the mirror above him, he could see the visorless battle helmets of the armored Marines and Rolla NCO’s, row upon row of sensors giving them far better vision and hearing through the helmets’ neural interface than they’d have had with their eyes and ears alone.

  As Abha and Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw began to issue orders to their squads over the team channel, Steve turned back to his console. The OrbCon radar traffic display showed the two dots of the pirates’ small craft as they approached Mauritania, their echoes merging with the larger one of the liner. Hopefully Captain Packer would have had enough time to get his engineering staff out of their work spaces, and seal all access routes from the docking bay to the passenger areas of the ship, before they docked. It would take the pirate boarders a while to realize they’d been locked out. By the time they did, he’d be pounding hell out of their mother ship.

  Sergeant Higgs adjusted her controls as they approached the orbital altitude of their targets. Their upward rush diminished as she added forward motion to their vector. They began to close swiftly on the pirate ship, which had slowed to match its orbital velocity with Mauritania. Without having to be told, she checked their relative motion, and cut back the drive.

  Steve silently blessed Higgs’ competence and expertise as he broke the seal on a locker at his side, opened it and withdrew a cartridge of deuterium-tritium pellets. He released his harness and stood up, bracing himself against the seat. Opening the loading mechanism of the plasma cannon, he inserted the cartridge into the magazine and locked it in place, then pressed the activation button. The cannon whined gently as it went through a brief, automated self-test routine, then a light appeared on his console, showing that it was in ‘Ready’ status.

  He sat down and tapped commands into the weapons console, removing the software lock on the weapon and issuing target instructions. Above him the barbette whined gently, rising from the hull, turning and settling onto the bearing of the pirate ship, the cannon elevating to track it. At present it was doing so by the vessel’s drive signature, following it passively, not using active radar to target it. That would come only in the last seconds before firing, so as not to give away their presence too soon.

  He pulled up a schematic of a typical tramp cargo vessel, selecting points to target along its length. He paid particular attention to its engineering, control and crew compartments beneath the spine, but tried to avoid the reactor and docking bay. He gave the artificial intelligence targeting system a priority override instruction to automatically engage anything that looked like a laser cannon turret, giving them precedence over his aiming points. If the turrets were mounted in the holds, as the pirate had announced, they’d have to protrude from the sides or bottom of the hull. That should put all of them in line-of-sight of at least one shuttle as they came in below the ship.

  Satisfied, he divided the fire plan into three equal concentrations of fire running from bow to stern, then transmitted one to each of the other two shuttles. Even if one shuttle were knocked out by the enemy’s weapons, he reckoned the other two could put out enough firepower to get the job done. He checked to ensure that each shuttle’s fire control system had acknowledged receipt of the fire plan over the tight-beam circuit, then locked them in and set them to automatic. The console blinked acknowledgment of his programming. It awaited only radar verification of the target’s range and relative motion to begin the firing sequence.

  He glanced at the plot display. They were fast closing in on their target, and decelerating so as not to zoom past too fast to fire accurately. He felt as if a thin, hot wire was threading itself through his stomach as he looked at the range figures. Their stealth systems were very good, but they only made the shuttles harder to detect – not impossible. The closer they got, the greater the likelihood that a pirate sensor would spot them. If only they could get within range first… He forced his thoughts back to the tactical situation, and toggled the tight-beam circuit.

  “Outpost One-One to Outpost Six and Captain Packer, we’re about three minutes from showtime. Captain Packer, what’s happening aboard Mauritania? Over.”

  “Packer to Outpost One-One. The pirates have just docked, and they’re coming through our airlock. About half are wearing spacesuits, the rest any old thing. They’re a scruffy lot. They appear to be carrying only light projectile weapons. I’ve evacuated our docking bay and engineering spaces, disabled our gravitic drive under master override from the bridge, and locked down the airtight doors in the collision bulkheads leading to the passenger and crew compartments. The pirates’ weapons won’t be able to shoot through them, and they won’t be able to move the ship. Over.”

  “Outpost One-One to Packer, well done! Break. Brooks, take care of yourself. I’ll see you when the shooting stops. Over.”

  “Brooks to Steve. Thanks, buddy, and keep your head down. Remember you’re not wearing armor. Over.”

  Steve took a deep breath and activated all four tight-beam links. “Outpost One-One to all stations on circuit. Stand by for action. Outpost One-One out.”

  He glanced at the navigation display. Sergeant Higgs had done a perfect job, bringing them in behind the pirate without waiting for further instructions.

  “Well done, Pilot! We’re exactly where we need to be.”

  “Thanks, Sir. What next?”

  “Stay on this course, but edge out to port just a hair so that Shuttle Two, behind and to starboard of us, is on the target’s centerline. That’ll give us line-of-sight on any laser cannon turrets on her port side, and Shuttle Three on those to starboard. We’ll come in about twelve clicks below her, as near as I can tell. That’s close enough for the cannon – its bolts won’t be affected by atmospheric diffraction, so they’ll be effective over a longer range than planetside. It’s also far enough away to protect us if her reactor lets go. Take us straight and level from their stern to their bow, and leave the shooting to the battle computer. As soon as we’re past and the cannon’s ceased fire, we’ll turn around and head for her docking bay.”

  “Got i
t, Sir. Give ’em hell!”

  “I intend to.” He twisted around, looking at the Marines behind him. “Are you ready, Marines?”

  Abha spoke for them all from her seat beside him. “We’re ready when you are, Sir!” Her Marines growled their eager assent, echoed by their Rolla understudies.

  Steve’s fingers ran over the WSO console controls. He brought the active electronically-scanned radar arrays on all three shuttles to standby, ready for instant transmission as soon as he gave the order. The plasma cannons’ control programs would take their final input from the radar returns to align the weapons precisely on their targets.

  They streaked closer to the pirate ship. Steve flicked up the safety cover over the radar activation switch, poised his finger over it, and waited. As soon as the display, taking its information from passive sensors and OrbCon’s radars, showed a range of twenty kilometers, he jabbed the switch. Instantly all three shuttles began to emit a flood of electromagnetic energy. Part of it was from their active radar arrays, focusing on their target, gathering data, passing it to their fire control systems, displaying it on their consoles. Another part was from their electronic warfare systems, preemptively blinding all radar and lidar wavelengths except those they were using. They couldn’t blind optical sensors, but the pirates’ standard fire control sensors would be rendered useless.

  Steve could vividly imagine how alarms must be screaming on the pirate ship’s bridge right now, as her sensors detected the powerful transmissions from such desperately close range. Her crew would be jerking upright, scanning their consoles frantically, trying to locate and track the shuttles. His display suddenly flickered. On the diagram of the pirate ship’s hull, a red light illuminated on the port side of her keel. A laser turret was spinning to face them!

  Just over a second after he’d activated the radar, the fire control system solution light on his console flickered from red to green, even as the enemy weapon locked on. Instantly the battle computer triggered Steve’s programmed firing sequence. The plasma cannon above their heads fired with a sudden blurt of sound, muffled by the heavy breech mechanism. The barbette mechanism whined momentarily, turning the second of the three barrels into firing position and adjusting its aim, then the cannon fired again. Whine – blurt – whine – blurt – whine… Steve had deliberately selected the slow firing speed, directing the fire control system to place accuracy ahead of rate of fire, so that the cannon systematically destroyed precisely-calculated targets rather than simply hitting the hull.

  As the first bolts struck the pirate vessel, a flickering line bloomed between the laser turret and Shuttle Three, on the far side of the formation. A flash of light erupted from the shuttle’s mid-section, and its gravitic drive and electronic sensors all went off-line instantaneously. In the next split-second a plasma bolt from Shuttle Two struck the laser turret, smashing it as Shuttle Three tumbled out of formation, shedding debris.

  Steve swallowed hard. He knew the pirate laser cannon must have been aimed under the control of an optical sensor to avoid their jamming. To stop himself staring at the stricken shuttle, he looked up at the tips of the shuttle’s cannon’s barrels through the viewport. They were beginning to glow red as more blink-of-an-eye streaks of lethal energy left their muzzles. He lost sight of them as they lifted towards the vertical, then trained around as the shuttle zoomed beneath the pirate vessel, the barbette swiveling to keep the cannon aligned as it fired its final shots into the now-receding target.

  As the last bolts slammed into the pirate ship, Steve saw on his screen the blip of Brooks’ shuttle curve outwards and race towards Mauritania, by now less than twenty kilometers to starboard. He nodded somberly. Brooks was, quite correctly, going after the enemy. He’d leave the rescue of the damaged shuttle’s crew in Steve’s hands.

  The firing stopped, and the weapon console beeped at him, displaying: ‘FIRING SEQUENCE COMPLETE’. Above their heads, the barbette remained trained on the pirate ship, the cannon ready to fire again at his command as soon as it was reloaded.

  “Sergeant Higgs, take us round! Get us to their docking bay as quickly as possible, while they’re still disorganized.”

  “Aye aye, Sir!”

  The barbette whined around as the shuttle turned beneath it, keeping the cannon locked on the target. As its barrels came back into view, Steve could see they were glowing a faint, dark red for almost half their length, despite the near-absolute-zero cold of space. He didn’t care if he had to burn out those barrels. Replacements would be infinitely cheaper than the failure of this mission. He reached into the locker for another twenty-round cartridge and reloaded the cannon, ready to deal with anything that might arise; then he turned to his console. He shut down the electronic warfare suite, sending instructions to the other shuttles to do the same and switch on their radar transponder beacons. Other traffic would need to track their movements now.

  He activated the radio on the emergency channel. To port, the Orbital Control Center was about fifty kilometers away. “Outpost One-One to Rolla Six, OrbCon, Mauritania, elements of Task Force Maxwell and all other stations on this frequency. The initial strike on the pirate ship has been completed, so there’s no further need for radio silence. One shuttle under the command of Marine Captain Shelby is on its way to Mauritania to deal with the pirate boarders. I’m taking my shuttle to board the pirate vessel, to neutralize her and any surviving pirates. Orbcon, have you organized your boarding parties? Over.”

  “Orbcon to Outpost One-One, affirmative. We have ten cutters and cargo shuttles ready to go, each with an armed boarding party, over.”

  “Outpost One-One to Orbcon, thank you. Send a cargo shuttle to rendezvous with our damaged assault shuttle. They’re to retrieve it in their cargo bay and return it to you. Have an ambulance cutter accompany them with a medical team, to recover casualties and get them to hospital ASAP. Assign a second cargo shuttle to retrieve your customs boat, and also get its casualties to hospital as fast as you can. Send half of the remainder of your boarding parties to rendezvous with me aboard the pirate ship. They’ll operate under the tactical control of Lieutenant Sashna. The rest are to rendezvous with Captain Shelby aboard Mauritania and operate under his tactical control to neutralize the pirates aboard her. Over.”

  “Orbcon to Outpost One-One, understood and will comply, over.”

  “Outpost One-One to all stations, proceed, out.”

  Steve forced down dark thoughts about the probable fate of his comrades aboard the damaged assault shuttle. He knew it was likely that most were dead or injured… but there was nothing he could do for them right now, except send help. He had to deal with the remaining pirates.

  He brought up a visual targeting grid on his console. He aligned the shuttle’s cameras on the after third of the pirate ship, where the docking bay was usually located. Sure enough, the gaping hollow in the ship’s side came into view as they approached its far side. The pirates hadn’t bothered to close its doors after sending out their boarding parties. He made a rough alignment of the targeting grid’s crosshairs on the docking bay. If anyone tried to interfere with the shuttle’s docking maneuvers, he was ready to teach them the terminal error of their ways.

  “Holy shit, Sir, will you look at that!”

  Sergeant Higgs’ awed comment made him look up from the console, and his jaw dropped. He knew that plasma cannon were devastating short-range weapons inside planetary atmosphere, but he’d never before had the opportunity to see what one could do to a spaceship. As they drew nearer, the destruction became horrifyingly clear through the viewscreen.

  Unlike a laser, which cut a relatively clean entry hole, the slamming explosive power of the plasma bolts had left great blackened indentations where they’d punched through the plating up and down the pirate ship’s hull. Three laser cannon, each in a retractable turret protruding from the hull, had been hammered into scrap metal. A fourth turret had been blown out of the ship altogether, leaving only a gaping hole. Some plasma bolts, enc
ountering fewer internal structures than others, had bored upward through every one of her decks, smashing out through the top of her reinforced spine. Fragments of wreckage floated near the holes, blasted loose from the fabric of the ship. The last of her internal atmosphere shimmered as it vented to space.

  “I never knew a plasma cannon would wreck a spaceship as badly as that!” Abha exclaimed in astonishment. “Even laser cannon don’t do that much damage to hull plating. They cut a clean hole and penetrate very deeply, but they don’t have that surface blast effect.”

  “You’re right, although lasers deliver much more energy than plasma cannon and have a much longer range.” Steve glanced at his sensor displays, then looked around. “People, she’s dead in space. All her emissions have shut down – gravitic drive, radio, radar, the lot. Her reactor must have gone into emergency shutdown. It looks like most of her internal atmosphere is gone, too. Those pirates who weren’t wearing spacesuits will be in a world of hurt. Her artificial gravity will be down for sure, so you’ll be fighting in free-fall if it comes to that.”

  “No problem, Sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw replied. “With any luck, most of those who weren’t wearing spacesuits will have been in compartments vented to space by our cannon fire.”

  Steve shivered involuntarily. “Those who were are dead by now, or wishing they were.”