Tactical Error

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  The spider drone’s first task was to scurry down to the bare deck formed by the sealed bay doors. It sat down tight against the deck, and a small cutting beam within its body began to bore a tiny, almost microscopic hole all the way through the door into the cold space beyond. Into this it inserted the lead of a tiny antenna, sealing the hole against air loss, then the drone spun a minute spider’s web of an antenna across the bay to the tiny receiver it hid in the shadows along one wall. Now that it could receive orders, it hurried to complete its task.

  A combination of data – or rather the lack of it – from both its optic and sonic sensors led it to infer that it was relative night on board the Methryn, the corridor lights turned down combined with a general lack of activity. The deck below was down, analogous to the ship, and it knew how far forward it was in the carrier measured from the nose, since it had to have been brought on board through one of the transport bays. Those were simple bits of logical deduction, but by constructing a memory map of its turns and straight runs as it moved through the ship, the drone was able to always have a fair idea of where it was. Sonic data allowed it to guess when it was entering inhabited regions, and visual references permitted it to guess whether it was in a major corridor or a small, unimportant passage.

  By keeping to the shadows and jumping into any available cover at the slightest sound, the spider drone was finally able to work its way to the core of the ship between her broad, thick wings, and into the maze of main engineering. Once there, its most difficult task began. The machinery it observed was beyond its experience, both because of the complexity of Starwolf technology and the tremendous size of these generators and power grids. But by a careful comparison of what it saw with what it knew, it was finally able to trace the main power linkages to the main switching core on the outside, a single piece of metal pipe two meters wide by twelve meters long.

  The spider drone scrambled up the machinery and scurried along the main switching core to its very center, then settled itself tight against the pipe and held on firmly with all six legs. There it awaited its orders.

  Although Velmeran made a joke of pretending impatience and suspicion for his summons back to Alkayja Base, he still believed that it must be important. Starwolf carriers traditionally returned to Home Base only at need, perhaps once every hundred years for overhaul. A direct summons was almost unknown, although far less unusual than it had once been. As soon as the Free Trader Karabyn was safely away, he ordered the Methryn out of orbit as well.

  “I may have missed something,” Valthyrra remarked, her camera pod watching the main viewscreen over Velmeran’s shoulder. “How are we supposed to get Keflyn back?”

  Velmeran glanced at her. “Back? Who said anything about getting her back? I was just hoping to get her off this ship before she realized the flaw in her little plan.”

  The camera pod afforded him an impatient stare.

  “She has a small achronic transmitter in one of her bags,” he explained.

  “If the mission had been less important, I might have believed you.” The ship paused, and her camera pod shot up in a habitual gesture of surprise or alarm. “Incoming ships. Three of the beggars, and by their size they can only be Fortresses.”

  Velmeran’s first thought was that the Union had finally decided to bring Kanis in line. The colony and its flaunted independence had been a very sore point with the Union for centuries. But why Fortresses? The immense warships now only traveled it groups of three, too tall a task for any one Starwolf carrier even with the new missiles that cracked their quartzite armor. The Fortresses were not especially useful in planetary invasions in themselves, but they could keep a lone Starwolf carrier from breaking up an invasion.

  “Move to intercept,” Velmeran ordered. “Buzz past them just out of range. We want to lure them away. How soon can the Vardon be here?”

  “Five hours, even if they covered the entire distance in a series of long jumps,” Valthyrra answered. “Is there any chance that we can chase them away?”

  “The idea is to delay them for now,” he answered. “If we can harass them in a series of hits and runs, we might be able to keep their attention on us long enough for the Vardon to get here.”

  The Methryn rushed directly at the trio of Fortresses, still moving very quickly into system at more than half of light speed, flying in very close formation of barely fifty kilometers apart. Since the vast ships were themselves twenty-five kilometers in length and wider than a Starwolf carrier was long, they made a very impressive sight indeed. Only the development of the energy-plasma missile that could peel the quartzite shell right off of these invincible monsters, together with the incredible destructive power of the Starwolves’ conversion cannons, had made it possible for the Kelvessan to fight these immense engines of war.

  Even so, carriers and Fortresses had fought only five times in the past twenty years, to the destruction of two of the larger ships. The Fortresses had countered the Starwolf advances by flying and fighting only in groups of at least three. The Starwolves could have pressed the issue by attacking the Union ships in their own battle groups, and Velmeran had sometimes thought that he should. But the Fortresses were a force to be considered even for the Wolf fleet, and he had no wish to engage these ships except under circumstances entirely of his own choosing, when he could press every advantage. At the same time, the Union was very reluctant to press these very expensive machines into battle situations where they could be destroyed, and they could usually be bluffed into withdrawing by a Starwolf carrier taking a determined posture. But once a trio of these ships were entrenched in close orbit, a lone Starwolf carrier was usually the one to retreat.

  The Methryn continued her determined rush at the enemy ships, a swift run that Velmeran hoped would be taken as a prelude to the launch of the missiles that would crack the quartzite shields of the Fortresses. She would have made a very inviting target, except that she was still well out of range. At the very last moment, just before she would have come under fire of hundreds, if not thousands, of powerful cannons, she turned sharply and shot away at an angle. The Fortresses turned as one to follow.

  As the Methryn retreated, a simple, brief signal was broadcast from the Fortresses, intercepted by the slender antenna that the spider drone had put through the door of the transport bay. The signal was received by the small transceiver that had been left in the shadows of the bay, relaying to the little automaton a message that would not have otherwise penetrated the ship’s shielded hull. Deep within the interior of the carrier, the drone responded to that message in an abrupt and violent manner, exploding with tremendous force, taking out a length of the main switching core, the one vulnerable link in the Methryn’s power grid.

  The entire ship was plunged into a moment of darkness as the entire main power network failed. The Methryn’s engines and defensive shields powered down, and even the ship’s atmosphere and gravity were lost. On the bridge, Valthyrra’s camera pod sank slowly to the deck as her entire computer network went down. After a moment the ship’s emergency backup systems came on line, restoring a minimal environment control and lights. A few seconds later, backup generators powered up to restore Valthyrra’s main functions. She at least was self-contained, but even she could do nothing with a dead ship.

  “Valthyrra, what hit us?” Velmeran asked. He watched as Consherra abandoned her station without a word, hurrying to main engineering.

  “Nothing hit us,” she replied absently. Her camera pod was returning slowly to position as her primary attention remained elsewhere, exploring her self-diagnostic network. “Something internal failed. My main switching core seems to be down. That is damned peculiar.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is a relatively new unit,” she explained. “That unit is not prone to sudden failure, and it was inspected recently with no sign of any problem. Chief Engineer Tresha is inspecting the damage now.”

  “An explosion has shattered the main link of the switching core,” Tresh
a herself reported immediately. “The explosion has every appearance of having occurred externally, although there is nothing anywhere near that could have caused such an explosion. I would say that it looks very much like sabotage, if I thought that anyone could get on board this ship.”

  It had happened before, although certain measures had been taken on board all Starwolf ships since Lenna Makayen’s successful penetration of the Methryn twenty years before. Velmeran frowned. “I would not rule it out. The main question I have now is, how soon can you have main power up and running?”

  “We are already clearing out this unit,” Tresha responded. “We have no ready replacement for the unit, but we can rig a makeshift connection that would give us at least three-quarters full power without certain redundant safeguards. No less than twenty minutes.”

  “Get to it. I will find you that time,” Velmeran ordered, nodding to Valthyrra to close the line. “Sweep out this ship with your sensors for intruders, although I am sure that you will find none. Nothing biological could have sneaked past your routine sweeps, but a small automaton is something we never considered before now. Right now, we have another problem.”

  “Afraid so,” she agreed. “Should I prepare the packs?”

  “Would twelve packs do a damned thing to stop three Fortresses?” he asked in return. “How long before those ships intercept us?”

  “About ten minutes, allowing for their present determination. They will be close enough to open fire in only five minutes.”

  “I do not think that they will,” Velmeran said. “Keep one thing in mind. All Fortresses have a receiving slot in their lower hull the right size for a Starwolf carrier, with grappling arms and docking probes. For the first time in history, the Union has a disabled carrier within reach, and they will not refuse the prize. We cannot stop a capture, but we might be able to prevent a boarding long enough to get power back. They will be able to attempt boarding at any one of six airlocks along our lateral groove. That means two packs with heavy guns each, ready to move into the docking probes as soon as the seals are made. Other crew-members will have to go secretly out onto the hull, to plant explosives that will free us from the grapples.”

  “Will that work?” Consherra asked, returning from the engineering station. “We could put all of our transports out and have them tow us long enough to get power back up.”

  “It would take at least ten minutes to set that up, and then they would begin shooting at us to prevent our escape. We have to entice them to capture us.”

  “Tresha says that she has found the remains of some type of small probe in the debris,” Valthyrra reported. “It seems that you guessed right.”

  Velmeran had apparently guessed right about something else, for the long minutes passed and the three Fortresses held their fire even after they were well within range. Then, as it began to move up close behind the Methryn, the lead ship began to rise slowly until it was slightly above its prey.

  “They definitely are moving to intercept,” Valthyrra announced. Since the main viewscreen was still down, the bridge crew was dependent upon her reports of everything that happened outside the ship. “I anticipate that they will move in to begin grappling procedures in the next minute.”

  Outside, the massive Fortress began to settle slowly over the top of the Methryn’s broad, flat, upper hull. Although the Fortress’ own hull was a maze of angled plates designed to deflect enemy fire, one large section under its nose was essentially flat, with an impression designed to fit perfectly over the armored upper hull of a Starwolf carrier. Maneuvering in careful, precise movements, under the control of her own sentient computer system guided by her sensors, the Fortress aligned herself perfectly over her prey and settled in until the two hulls met with an echoing impact. The grappling arms moved in quickly, catching the carrier in the deep indentation of the lateral groove that ran completely around her hull, locking the two ships together.

  “That does it,” Velmeran remarked as the rumbling echoes of contact died away. He turned to Valthyrra. “Are you able to see those grappling and docking probes?”

  “I can get external cameras on some of the grapples and all six of the docking probes.”

  “Warn our people at the airlocks when they seem about to open up and come through,” he told her. “Do not allow them to destroy your airlocks. Open up first. How much longer on those repairs?”

  “Less than ten minutes now,” she reported. “I am sending the crews out now to begin planting the explosives on those grappling probes.”

  Smaller airlocks along the Methryn’s lateral groove opened, and crewmembers began to move outside cautiously. Wearing the solid black armored suits of the pilots, they stayed under cover of the deeper shadows as they moved secretively along the hull to the grappling probes. The probes themselves were massive rectangular blocks which locked tightly into the carrier’s lateral groove, hinged at the top where they swung in against the captive ship and completely retractable into the Fortress itself. They were to plant their explosives on the back sides of each probe’s hinge, its single point of vulnerability and, fortunately, well away from the Methryn’s own hull.

  Within the Methryn, Pack Leader Baressa readied her two packs for the assault on the airlock they had been set to guard. She could well guess that, once a Fortress had a carrier captive, actually boarding it would be a very difficult task indeed. The trick was to get a boarding party through a single, relatively small series of doorways at the airlock itself, where the attackers could be easy targets as they came through at defenders who might not have to show themselves. She knew her advantages and meant to make the most of them.

  She also knew that the airlock design was by necessity not the best for bringing an overwhelming press of attackers to bear quickly. Valthyrra reported that the shape of the airlock probes suggested a fairly large lift dropping down into a huge, staging area, where the attackers could assemble under cover before charging the airlock itself. The only thing she could not know was what to expect when those doors opened. She could be facing human soldiers, massive, armored sentries, or the giant Kalfethki warriors that Velmeran had found on board the Challenger years before.

  “The docking probe is moving in,” Valthyrra reported through the communication system built into Baressa’s helmet. “Stand by.”

  “Acknowledged,” she responded, stepping aside from the airlock doors so that she could wave her defenders forward. “Move those beasts into position and power up. Everyone else move to cover.”

  Several of the pilots under her command brought forward a pair of massive cannons, each one bearing four barrels designed to fire rapidly in pairs, and protected by its own heavy, armored flaring. These guns could make short work even of Union sentries, but were protected against almost any weapon that was likely to be brought against them through that airlock. Set to fire straight through the tube of the airlock, they could be operated remotely through their own sensors by operators who never had to show themselves. Baressa hoped that these two guns would be enough to hold this airlock for the few minutes they would need.

  She did not need to be told when the docking probe made contact; she could hear the impact of the structure against the Methryn’s hull even through her suit. She waved the remainder of her pilots to cover, within either the main corridor directly opposite the lock or the two side corridors. The Starwolves were themselves armed with powerful rifles, the only weapons that would stop both armored sentries or Kalfethki warriors.

  “Stand by. I will open the doors on my count,” Valthyrra reported to her defenders throughout the ship. “Three. Two. One.”

  The doors snapped open, revealing a group of sentries standing near the airlock and, at least to the few Starwolves who saw them, seeming to wear the most startled expressions. The pair in the very front were just preparing to bring their powerful cannons to bear on the airlock doors, a task that would have probably taken several moments of concentrated effort. The sentries just stood there for a couple of
tense seconds as their simple brains adjusted to the unexpected. Then they attacked.

  Baressa waited as they charged forward, until they were well within the airlock, before she had her main cannons open fire. The searing bolts from the powerful weapons cut effortlessly into their armor, discharging in violent explosions that ripped the automatons apart. Baressa was actually relieved to see that it was sentries that they faced, and not living opponents, for all that they were walking arsenals. Massive sentries continued to press forward as rapidly as they could, to be destroyed by bolts from the cannons and rifles of the Starwolves as they pressed through the narrow tube of the airlock. Within a minute, the tight passage was blocked with the shattered hulls of fallen sentries, too heavy for the automatons on the other side to force their way through, and they were too heavy and awkward to climb over the top. Those which did attempt the passage only presented themselves as easy targets.

  “We are holding our own against the boarding parties at all six of the targeted airlocks,” Valthyrra reported. “We have the time we need. Our people on the outside have planted their explosives and are coming in.”

  “Keep an eye on them,” Velmeran said. “I would not want to leave anyone outside when we make our break. How much longer?”

  The main viewscreen remained obstinately blank, although Velmeran found himself staring at it out of old habit. He was not used to having the fighting at such close quarters that he could not watch its progress either visually or through the scanner’s schematic presentations.