Return of the Star Raiders (The Long Road Back Book 1)

by Dietmar Wehr

  “Eighty-nine days from when Wolfhound leaves Valhalla, which is roughly fifty-five days from now,” said Oppenheimer.

  Strider relaxed. That was plenty of time to get back. In fact, it was enough time to do something else first. “Would I find Wolfhound still on Draconia if I took Retribution there now?”

  Oppenheimer used his data tablet to do a quick calculation. His eyes were wide when he looked up. “Yes! He should be there.”

  Strider pounded his right fist on the table. “Then we’ve got him! I’ll catch him on the ground while his ship’s still cut open for the work!”

  “What about casualties from the missile blast among the locals, not to mention our covert team emplaced there?” asked Morningside.

  “Damn! I forgot about that. What about a ground assault with your marines, Admiral?”

  Morningside started to frown. “Catching one particular raider ship and crew at the expense of giving up a very valuable source of intelligence is not a trade-off that I’m prepared to make. When we’ve squeezed as much information as we think we’re going to get out of that base, then and only then will we launch a ground assault. That doesn’t prevent Retribution from standing off from the planet and ambushing Wolfhound when he least expects it, does it, Major Strider?”

  Strider got the hint. If he wanted to go after Wolfgar on Draconia, he would have to do it himself and out in space. “No, Admiral, it doesn’t. Will Retribution be able to contact your heavy cruiser on overwatch duty there to get confirmation that Wolfhound is really there?”

  Morningside looked at Oppenheimer who nodded. “We’ll show your people where to aim a contact signal with the correct identification code, Major,” said Oppenheimer.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll catch him when he leaves, and your plans won’t be impacted.”

  “At least, not by much,” corrected Morningside with a barely noticeable smile.

  Strider turned to Jaeger. “I wish you could come with us, Karl, but—”

  Jaeger finished the sentence for him. “—a ship-to-ship combat situation is no place for a cripple. I’m forced to agree with you. I wouldn’t be of any use to you like this. There’ll be other battles, I’m sure.”

  Strider nodded and patted Jaeger on the shoulder. “Of that, I’m certain.” He turned his attention back to Morningside. “Admiral, now that my plans for Retribution are clear, I’d like to get moving as soon as possible. Therefore, with your approval, my officers and I will finish our breakfast quickly and head back to our ship. I want to thank you, Admiral Morningside, for your hospitality and assistance. When we get back to New Caledon, I’ll urge my superiors to consider an offer of enriched uranium for the missile pod technology.”

  Morningside sighed. “I can understand your eagerness, Major, although I doubt if staying an extra hour to two or three will make much difference. But if you’re set on leaving quickly, I won’t object.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.”

  Morningside gestured for Oppenheimer to sit down since the briefing was effectively over, and the rest of the breakfast was spent with small talk between adjacent officers.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Strider stared at the tactical display as Retribution completed its last micro-jump in the Draconia star system. The ship was just about to cross the no-jump zone boundary, and Strider made sure it was oriented to deflect both radar and visible light away from the planet. Oppenheimer’s staff had informed his people that the heavy cruiser Agincourt was stationed so that it was just above the horizon to the north of the raider base and behind a range of hills. As soon as the Astrogator got his bearings and figured out where that was in relation to Retribution’s current position, the com officer would send the recognition code to establish two-way communications.

  Contact was established quickly, and Agincourt’s latest information on what was happening at the base was relayed to Retribution. Strider and Pavlov were both shocked by what they learned. Wolfhound was not on Draconia. Either something had happened on Valhalla to delay her departure by several weeks, or Wolfgar’s ship had gone somewhere else. Panic threatened to overcome Strider when it occurred to him that Wolfhound might have gone straight back to New Caledon from Valhalla, perhaps in conjunction with Stormbringer. Pavlov managed to calm him down.

  “Maybe he went to Katmandu instead,” offered Pavlov. “Astro, if we head for Katmandu now and then back to New Caledon, how will our arrival time compare with Oppenheimer’s minimum arrival time for Wolfhound?”

  It took a few seconds to calculate the answer. “We’ll be back six days after the minimum arrival time, but that arrival time was based on Wolfhound coming here to Draconia. If he went to Katmandu instead, the minimum arrival time gets pushed back ten days which means we’d get there with four days to spare.”

  “I don’t want the margin for error to be that close,” said Strider. Notify Agincourt that we’re heading back for home right now, and then get the ship moving. Better early than too late.”

  Wolfgar stood up in the hovering air car with his hands on his hips and nodded his approval. The engineers had done a good job on the modifications to Wolfhound. She was now twice as deadly as before. Coming to the new raider base had proven to be a good decision. Draconia could have done the job, but the base on Exeter was closer to both Valhalla and New Caledon. It was unfortunate that Stormbringer’s captain had decided not to join him in the reprisal raid on New Caledon. How could that captain be so short sighted? If New Caledon really had developed radar-invisible ships, then all raiders were at risk from that technology spreading to other worlds like Haven. New Caledon had to be crushed, not just raided. Its cities had to be destroyed by atomic fire, but not before he got his hands on Richard Strider. And if he wasn’t there, then his family, if he had any, would feel Wolfgar’s wrath.

  “Get the ship loaded with supplies fast,” said Wolfgar to his second in command, who was piloting the air car. “I want that done and the crew aboard in twelve hours! We have a blood duel waiting for us at New Caledon.”

  Eleven days later:

  Wolfgar stood impatiently beside his weapons officer. “Well?”

  The officer leaned back in his chair and looked up at Wolfgar. “Your theory was correct, Captain. Their radar satellite network doesn’t cover all approaches to the planet with equal intensity. There’s a narrow corridor on the back side of the planet relative to where their capital city is. The radar energy is so low there that their satellites wouldn’t pick up any signals bouncing off our hull until we’re at a low orbital altitude.”

  “Which means that we can get in close enough to be able to see their ships optically from reflected sunlight, right?” asked Wolfgar.

  “Correct, Captain, unless their ships are in the planet’s shadow, which is what we think happened last time.”

  “And you have their radar satellite locations pinpointed?”

  “Yes, Captain. I’ve already programmed the target data into six missiles. We can take out their radar network whenever you give the word.”

  “Excellent work, Lucas. I’ll see that you get an extra share of the loot when we return to New Atlantis.” Wolfgar turned to look at his pilot. “Make sure you take us down the corridor that the weapons officer has found. Call the ship to Battle Stations!”

  Terrington yawned and got up to stretch his legs while he looked at the multi-story tactical display in the Planetary Defense Center’s Operations Room. His promotion from 1-star to a 2-star general had also come with a transfer from R&D to Operations. But even generals get assigned to the graveyard shift, and he was the least senior of the 2-star generals keeping an eye on things at the PDC, so the graveyard shift was his. He knew that it was now dawn outside, but here in the windowless Operations Room, it still felt like the middle of the night. He had just turned away intending to get another cup of coffee when the display pinged to denote a status change.

  “Unidentified radar contact on the far side, general,” said the radar section l
eader in a surprisingly calm voice. Terrington looked up just in time to hear another ping and see six new yellow icons emerge from a larger yellow icon. The six new ones were moving very fast. “Multiple contacts!” The section leader’s voice was no longer calm. “Those are missiles, general!”

  “Go to Condition Red! All forces, I repeat, all forces on alert!” He paused to make sure that what he was seeing was actually happening. “They’re firing at our radar sats! Get me a channel to Fearless II, and then I’ll want to talk to the President!”

  “Wolfgar was feeling very pleased with himself and with the situation. A single ship orbiting the planet had been detected optically even before Wolfhound got close enough to be detected by radar. The six radar satellites were being destroyed one after another as his missiles curved around the planet to get to them, and soon the New Caledonians would no longer have a detection advantage over him. That defending ship would have to rely on visual detection, and Wolfhound was about to enter the planet’s shadow. As soon as she did, he would fire at the other ship while it could still be seen.

  Montoya gripped the armrest of his command chair more tightly. Fearless II’s tactical display had just gone blank as the final radar satellite was destroyed and all tactical data from PDC stopped.

  “That’s it, General,” said Montoya, “We’re now officially blind.”

  “You’ll have to turn on your own radar,” said Terrington.

  “And that means they’ll be able to see us or at least get a bearing on us,” said Montoya.

  “Better that than no detection at all. They’re in the planet’s shadow now, but you’re not. You can’t orient your hull properly if you don’t know where exactly that raider ship is. I’m ordering you to turn on your radar, Captain.”

  “Yes, General. Our radar is now on, and if you don’t mind me saying so, General, God help us.”

  “They’ve turned on their own radar, Captain,” said Wolfhound’s weapons officer. Wolfgar nodded. He would have done the same thing in their Captain’s place, but it wouldn’t save them.

  “Is the radar-homing missile loaded?” he asked.

  “Ready to go, Captain!”

  “Then you know what to do, Lucas.”

  “Firing now, Captain!”

  Montoya heard the double ping that denoted hostile missile fire.

  “Single missile launch!” yelled the TO. “No! Multiple missiles! They’re coming straight for us!”

  “How is that possible? Are we oriented properly, Helm?”

  “Affirmative, Captain. They shouldn’t be able to see or detect us.”

  Montoya stared at the overlapping red missile icons. “Zoom in on those missiles,” he ordered. The tactical display zoomed in. One missile was ahead of the rest, which seemed very strange, and all the missiles were sending out their own radar pulses. No, wait. All except for the first one. He suddenly understood what was happening.

  “That first missile is leading the rest to us. It must be homing in on our radar!” For a couple of seconds, he considered ordering his ship’s radar turned off but resisted the urge. Turning off the radar meant the enemy ship and the missiles would disappear from the display, and Fearless II would be blind again. No, the radar would have to stay on, and he would have to trust that the ship’s point defenses could stop the enemy missile barrage before they hit. But that didn’t prevent him from shooting back.

  “TO, target that ship and fire a full volley! Keep firing until I say otherwise!” yelled Montoya.

  “Sunlight reflections, Captain!” said Wolfgar’s weapons officer. “Multiple reflections that only lasted a fraction of a second. They may have fired their missiles.”

  Wolfgar grinned. “Of course, they did. Why would they not when their radar can see us quite well. Turn on our radar and make sure our auto-cannon are tracking. Everyone make sure you’re strapped in! We’ve got ourselves a good old-fashioned missile duel!”

  As the first raider missile volley approached Fearless II, the ship’s auto-cannons began firing at the closest target, which was the radar-homing missile. It was hit and blown to pieces within seconds. The auto-cannons then shifted their aim to other missiles. The remaining 11 raider missiles no longer had the homing missile to guide them, and they couldn’t detect the ship themselves, but they could detect the streams of tungsten bullets being fired by the six auto-cannons and interpreted the area where those bullet streams were coming from as their target. All 11 missiles were destroyed before they could reach Fearless II.

  Wolfhound’s radar showed that all 12 missiles were destroyed short of their target. Wolfgar wasn’t surprised. He could tell from the enemy’s first missile volley that they could fire 12 missiles at a time just like Wolfhound could, but he doubted if the other ship had 12 auto-cannon. That would make the difference.

  “Lucas, I want two missiles with radar guidance to also have proximity detonation. I want them to explode when they’re…a hundred yards from the target. You can leave the rest as contact detonation. Fire as soon as the next volley is ready.”

  “Damn! They’ve fired again,” said Montoya. He’d been hoping that his first volley would reach the raider ship and overwhelm its defenses before they fired again. It had been disconcerting to see a raider ship fire 12 missiles, when the standard raider ship, like Nemesis, had only been able to fire six at a time. Fearless II’s defenses had barely stopped the enemy’s first volley. A tiny error in target selection by the tactical computer controlling the auto-cannons or a random miss by the stream of bullets could mean the difference between survival and death. The only good thing about the current situation was that Fearless II now had two missile volleys on their way, with a third volley just about ready to fire, versus the enemy’s single volley. Montoya was puzzled as to why the enemy ship wasn’t firing faster. Was it possible that their loading mechanisms could only load one or two missiles at a time? He shifted his focus to his first volley, which had almost reached its target. The green triangle with the number 12 inside was just about to touch the red icon when the number inside dropped to 6 for a split second, and then the green icon disappeared altogether. No detonation.

  “They stopped all 12 missiles!” shouted the TO. Montoya looked at him with annoyance. He didn’t need his tactical officer to yell out the obvious. The speed with which the raider ship had destroyed 12 missiles was quite disturbing though. It could fire more missiles and apparently had more point defense systems. Shit. If they could stop his volleys that easily, then firing volley after volley was just a waste of ammunition.

  “Third volley has fired!” said the TO.

  “Hold your next volley, TO,” said Montoya.

  “Captain?” asked the TO in confusion.

  Montoya shook his head. “Until we figure out how to get past their defenses, we’re just wasting shots. I need ideas on what we can do to get through.” The resulting silence was deafening.

  After the enemy’s second volley was also destroyed, Wolfgar turned away from the tactical display to check on his Bridge crew when the weapons officer looked up from his console.

  “They’ve changed trajectory. They may be trying to enter the planet’s shadow too.”

  “How long until they get there?” asked Wolfgar.

  “They’ll need at least another eleven minutes, Captain.”

  Wolfgar turned back to the display. His second volley was a few seconds away from reaching the enemy ship. “Zoom in on our volley,” he ordered. He watched calmly as the homing missile suddenly disappeared, followed half a second later by others. But before they were all destroyed, one of the proximity warheads detonated. The display flashed and stayed blank as the optical sensors tried to see through the residual fireball from the detonation. Suddenly the red icon representing the enemy ship appeared again.

  “Now, let’s see if that blast damaged their ability to defend against another volley. As soon as their third volley has been stopped, fire our third volley, same configuration as the last one.”

 
Terrington heard the groans from the personnel manning their consoles as the huge display flashed to denote a fission detonation. There was no way to be sure if Fearless II had survived except by radio.

  “Fearless II, this is Terrington. Do you read me?” The open com channel was filled with static and residual EM energy from the blast. Terrington repeated his call. The large room was quiet now except for the static coming over the loudspeakers.

  “PDC, this is Fearless II! We’re still here! That warhead detonated short! We’re shook up but still operational, although a couple of point defense systems are off line. We’re trying to get into the umbra. Don’t know whether that will make any difference, but if we can get into the shadow and turn off our radar, we’ll be invisible again and can maybe catch our breath while we figure out how to overwhelm their defenses. Shit! They’ve fired another volley, and we’re not going to reach the umbra in time, General!”