Sector Eight (Perimeter Defense: Book #1)

by Michael Atamanov

  Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has worsened.

  Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: -5 (mistrusting)

  And almost right away, I got another message:

  Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has improved.

  Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: -4 (indifferent)

  I chuckled to myself. Some officers here aren't liking the changes and screw tightening the Prince is bringing. Nevertheless, I had my allies in the headquarters so, at the end of the day, I'm back to the status quo. What's next!

  "The frigate Pyro-14 has returned from its mission and has just now docked at the Himora station," came a message from the yacht captain.

  "Better late than never! Communications officer, gather all frigate and destroyer captains in the small hall in twenty minutes. Also, have them bring the navigators and senior communications officers from their ships. Our whole fleet is now docked at the Himora station, so I don't see any reason why they shouldn't all be able to come to this important meeting.

  * * *

  There were around seventy people gathered in the small hall. All the staff officers and the crewmembers I'd called from the smaller ships. While the fussy technician set up the electronic display and connected the microphones, I watched with unhidden satisfaction as the staff officers surreptitiously scrambled with their tablets under the tables, searching for more answers, looking over summaries and studying the Iseyek ships.

  "So, ladies and gentlemen, let's begin! The topic of today's meeting, as you may have guessed by now is the role of frigates and light ships in modern warfare..."

  I was quite rudely interrupted by someone from the crowd:

  "What other role do you think they could have? Fighting the enemy's little ships, taking them down and helping the main ships!"

  I wanted to tell the man off, but first I read the information about the gray haired officer.

  Maur Cassei

  Age: 96

  Race: Human

  Gender: Male

  Class: Soldier

  Achievements: Has combat medals for participation in interspecies conflicts

  Fame: +9

  Reputation: + 21

  Presumed personal opinion of you: -23 (opposed)

  Empire Military faction opinion of you: -4 (indifferent)

  "Mother of my wife! This geezer is ninety-six years old, but he is still serving in an active fleet! It can't be easy for the player to get into the role of a character like that believably. You'd need to have a real understanding of what it means to be old. I requested more information about this legendary figure. Seventy-five years in the fleet and all that time the captain has been on light frigates of various makes.

  "Our respected elder, who was doing heroic deeds on frigates back when the rest of us were still soiling diapers, is right as always. It's the classic war plan. It's stood the test of time. The little ships fight off the little ships, while the heavy ships deal with others like themselves."

  The old man was flattered by my words. He smiled and said something to the person next to him. As I continued, I sharply shifted from good natured and relaxed to a severe tone.

  "As we have seen, the classic plan doesn't work at all against the aliens. Our fleet lost fifty-five small-class ships out of seventy-some total! Seventy-seven percent losses! And that was only against one ship. And it wasn't even the most powerful one, just a Hermit."

  "This is war. Losses are unavoidable. What matters is that our fleet did its job and eliminated the enemy. Losses are secondary!" came the very same old man, interrupting me again.

  "Ok then, let's suppose you're right... Bring up the image on screen!" I showed a recording taken from the material Triass Zess had provided. "This was shot one month ago in the Aysar cluster, eight days flight from Himora."

  A swarm of unidentifiable spots filled the big screen. There were thousands of them, maybe even tens of thousands. I zoomed in so you could make out individual spots from the seething mess. They were starships, a huge horde of alien combat starships. I pressed pause and pointed my laser pointer at one of the outlines.

  "So, right here we see a Hermit. Not too long ago, just such a ship almost tore our whole fleet to pieces. As we can see there are hundreds and thousands of them here, and these aren't even close to the largest or most dangerous ships in the alien armada. Here you can see a bigger figure. It's an Ascetic-class destroyer. It has double the firepower of the Hermit. And over there is a cruiser. The name us humans have given it is the Sledgehammer, because one blow from it can take down any make of human cruiser. Now look over here. This one's even bigger. It's easier to see closer to the middle, here. I can't even guess if we've ever come across one of these, but based on its size it's a battleship. And you can make up your own name for that giant in the very middle. It's about one hundred times longer than my yacht."

  The audience grew quiet, depressed and even scared at what they'd seen. Before the officers had a chance to collect themselves, I continued in an even tone:

  "As you can see, we don't have enough ships to keep losing sixty of ours for each one of theirs. As luck would have it though, tactics for frigates to use against high-firepower ships have been around for a while. That is exactly what we're here to talk about today. We need to study and practice one of these tactics. Given that new knowledge will give our fleet advantages in modern warfare, this material is top secret and not a word of it is to leave this fleet. So, this tactic is called ‘long-bombing.' I've drawn up a plan. The enemy ship is in the middle of the board. Below it, are two little spots."

  This wasn't the first time I'd had to explain what was a fairly elementary tactic, but the last time I'd done it, I was talking to players of a totally different game.

  "The enemy ship is in the middle. But it's very strong. Each cannon shot it gets off is one less frigate on our side, not to mention the lives of all our people on board. The goal is to keep it on the battlefield as long as possible while minimizing losses. To do that, in the initial phase of the battle, we'll need one frigate, let's call it ‘receiver number one,' to fly away from the target at maximum speed until it's well beyond the range of the enemy cannons. We'll figure out the range through trial and error. Maybe it's a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred, or maybe even a couple five thousand miles – it doesn't matter. The second frigate, ‘receiver number two,’ goes in the opposite direction from the target to about the same distance. Only after the ‘receivers’ are in place and have told the fleet their coordinates, does the main battle phase begin."

  I drew a dotted line from one frigate to the other.

  "At any point in time, every frigate in the fleet is accelerating, either toward the first ‘receiver’ or the second one. When you get the warning signal that the enemy ship is targeting a frigate, you warp jump to the receiver at a safe distance. That's when you turn it around. Warp back into the battle at the coordinates of any of our fleet's ships near the enemy, and immediately start accelerating toward the other receiver. The main thing we'll really need from the frigates is to catch our formidable enemy in a warp disruptor as soon as they get on the battlefield to jam the enemy's warp drive so they can't run away. There must be at least one warp disruptor on the enemy at all times, and the frigate that placed it must not jump to either receiver until absolutely sure someone else has placed another."

  "But, my Prince, with this plan some of our ships are out of the battle from the start. We're going to lose a good deal of our damage dealing ability," noted one of the captains.

  "Yes, that's true. But in the first phase of the battle, what matters is immobilizing the enemy without losing any ships. Actually destroying the enemy is a job for our main guns, when they're out at optimum shooting distance from the target. The frigates' job is to serve themselves up on a platter as a sacrifice. Of course, no one is saying you shouldn't be shooting at the enemy, but shooting is secondary and must only be done after a warp disruptor has been
placed."

  "And what if the target places a warp disruptor on the frigate?"

  "That means we made a mistake, because the frigate didn't make the jump to the candle while the enemy was targeting it. But, if that happens, turn the main propulsion thrusters up to full power and go far enough away that you're out of the enemy warp disruptor's effective range and save the ship. If for some reason that is impossible, then go very quickly toward the enemy and fly in the smallest circular orbit you can. With high angular momentum, there's a chance that the enemy won't hit you. Nevertheless, that rule only applies to enemies with high caliber guns and fixed turrets. That not-too-big Hermit will hit you no problem, even if you squeeze a Pyro for all its worth and bring it up to near maximum speed."

  "I understand the technique, but it requires perfect coordination between our ships," said the gray-haired captain, shaking his head. "One crewmember makes one wrong move on our side and the enemy goes free. And all maneuvers will have to be made at high speed, so this will be quite the extreme challenge..."

  "Yes, Maur Cassei, that is true. We need our frigate crews to be in perfect physical condition. That is why only the strongest and toughest can work that job. But space combat does not typically last long. Ten minutes and it’s all over. What's more, it's always possible that a frigate with a crew that's already tired could take the role of one of the receivers, while a fresh team takes their place. However, if you aren't confident in your own physical condition, your frigate could be a receiver and help us out that way."

  "My Prince, pay my age no mind. My whole life, I've always passed physical tests with flying colors, so even when I'm a hundred years old, I'll still be in good shape."

  "I was hoping you'd say that, Maur Cassei. Formation flying is long, hard work. It won't be easy to get used to the new conditions. What's more, we're expecting reinforcements soon, and there will probably be a whole bunch of green novices among them. Those young pilots are going to need an example to look up to of the kind of authoritative patriarch whose footsteps they’ll be following in."

  "Do not worry, my Prince. I will not let you down!" The old man puffed out his chest, obviously proud at the big assignment he'd been entrusted with.

  Standing change. Your relationship with Maur Cassei has improved.

  Presumed personal opinion of you: -8 (disapproving)

  It looks like I've been able to clean up most of the negativity toward me. And would you look at that! With time, you can even bring an authoritative veteran over to your side! But the next message made me even happier:

  Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has improved.

  Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: -2 (indifferent)

  Bit by bit, things are getting better!

  * * *

  "Dad, it's so boring here in Himora!" Lika told me over lunch. "It's a teeny little technical recharging station with just three hundred people living on it. There's nothing to do. When are we going to Tesse?"

  "Tomorrow night, we're going," I said, reassuring her. "Six of my ships are damaged and need at least some repair so they won't break down on the way. And that pirate cruiser too... It's a valuable trophy, but we need to check it thoroughly to make sure the pirates didn't leave any surprises behind. Our engineers, electricians and mechanics need no less than a day to look over all the Payoff's systems... I really don't like that name. It'd be nice to change it to something more memorable."

  "Like that time when they trusted you with naming that cruiser in the capital of the Kingdom of Fastel?" giggled Likanna. "I bet they've never been more caught off guard by a name than they were by Marta the Harlot. No one could have been expecting that."

  I smiled too. So that's what it was! It's not surprising that after such extravagances, Prince Georg royl Inoky ton Mesfelle wouldn't be on such great footing with his spouse's relatives."

  "Lika, do you wanna name the new cruiser?" I offered, and the girl's eyes lit up.

  "Yeah, duh! Can I call it whatever I want? Are you sure?"

  I gave a kindhearted nod. Lika thought for a few seconds before giving her answer:

  "I want to name the cruiser ‘Big Fat Joan!’ Dad, come on, you promised!"

  "Hrrmm... Well that is what we call ‘making fun of someone.’ Your little classmate is definitely not going to like that. But a promise is a promise. Let's go to Tesse tomorrow and change the name."

  The incoming call signal rang out unexpectedly. Before I'd had the chance to check, I already had the feeling that something unpleasant had taken place. When I got to the captain of Queen of Sin, who had called me, he was seriously alarmed:

  "My Prince, we've received an emergency message from Algol Hulk, which is in for repair at the Himora station. There's been a double attack on Orange House soldiers. Sergeant Tavar Prest has been killed by unknown individuals. The same sergeant who brought your Highness here from Marta the Harlot yesterday. He was transferred onto that ship just last night, and this morning he was nowhere to be found. His corpse was discovered in cold storage during routine inspection. The sergeant was killed by a blow to the back of the head by a heavy object. We also found another corpse in cold storage. That of the female communications officer who spoke out against Captain Crasav ton Lavaelle yesterday. Space Corporal Victoria Min received two puncture wounds to the chest and her extremities have suffered severe frostbite. She is alive, but in critical condition."

  I frowned:

  "Both attacks were committed against individuals who exhibited their loyalty to the Orange House and to me personally. And, as such, I consider this an attack on my very person. Forbid anyone from leaving Algol Hulk! Provide twenty-four-hour security to the injured Victoria Min! Popori de Cacha!"

  The chameleon appeared a step from me.

  "You heard everything Captain Oorast Pohl said. I need to visit the wounded victim."

  "Not possible, my Prince. It is too reckless! Two attacks have been made on Orange House soldiers in a short period of time. The loyalty of the crew after the change of captain is under strong suspicion. Your enemies are probably expecting you to come to the cruiser. They didn't kill the girl after all. They could have."

  Of course, I could have stuck to my guns, but I would have been seriously risking spoiling my relationship with my bodyguard. And the chameleon could have been totally right. Everything that happened looked too much like a defiant challenge. And doing that really could have provoked Prince Georg into coming onto the cruiser.

  "So then..." I said, in serious thought. "It looks like you're right, Popori de Cacha. It looks too much like a trap. But I don't have the right not to react. So, I need a map of Algol Hulk..."

  The other ship's map didn't come up automatically. I had to ask the communications officer for it.

  "So look," I said, blowing up the map on the big screen and pointing at the hospital blocks. "The wounded communications officer is here. Let's do this: I'll send my personal doctor and a few Orange House soldiers to the patient to protect her. Take note: there is just one hallway here, so we’ll only have to have two guard posts, just for show. Then the doctor, in the presence of the other officers from the cruiser, will tell the captain that Victoria Min is in critical condition, but will be able to identify her attacker as soon as she wakes up from the sleeping pills we've given her."

  I zoomed the map in and pointed at the screen:

  "Look, there are ventilation shafts and service tunnels leading to the medical wards. I believe that my foes will attempt to make use of one of these paths to keep this dangerous witness quiet. They'll think that there won't be any guards in the sterile wards, because they're all in the hall. So they'll come for sure! How many invisible chameleons are we going to need to be able to guarantee the enemy is killed or, even better, in custody?"

  Popori de Cacha trained both of his agile eyes on me and answered:

  "We'll need only one, my Prince. And that invisible guard for the wounded girl will be me."

  * * *
>
  It was six P.M. I took a seat in my office in front of the screen and began reading incoming messages. The first staff officer to complete the assignment, no matter how strange it seemed, was Space Corporal Patrick toyl Sven. Yesterday he made an alright drinking buddy, despite the fact that he "went under" pretty fast, even though there was plenty to eat. Today he revealed his other talents:

  The Tria is a large Alpha Iseyek landing craft. It is capable of transporting up to four hundred thousand landing soldiers in a state of deep hibernation. The ship is not armed and is quite vulnerable in space combat. It requires around three hours of preparation time before beginning a landing operation (perhaps to wake the soldiers up and explain their combat assignment). Presents a huge threat for planets with weak anti-space defense systems, in that an Iseyek landing party coming from a Tria is capable of capturing a landing zone in less than an hour, which will be able to support a full-fledged invasion.

  The Uukresh is a new model of Swarm mother ship, corresponding to a carrier in Imperial classification. It is a huge spaceship, capable of transporting up to eighty frigates of various makes and models. It is distinguished by the massive capacity of its energy shields, which allow it to spend a long period of time under dense fire from an enemy fleet without taking substantial damage. Its only noted weaponry is anti-rocket systems.

  Alright then, it's a mobile, well-defended base for eighty small ships. That's quite a valuable thing, even if it is in a "badly broken" state without any frigates inside. It occurs to me now that it probably costs a pretty penny to repair such a vehicle. But what to do with the Tria, I still had no idea. Four hundred thousand sleeping praying mantis landing soldiers. Do I even have enough space in my heart for that much joy?