by B. V. Larson
Then she surprised me again. She stood on her tiptoes and put her mouth up to my ear—the right one, which had no earpiece sticking out of it.
“If you want to feel better, come to my cabin,” she whispered.
I pulled away slightly, and gave her a look of surprise and confusion. She must have read this as rejection—which I guess it was. She looked flustered and took her arms off me.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Colonel,” she said, and moved away.
A dozen others who’d been waiting around for the woman to let go of me now surged forward. Unlike Kwon, they’d been waiting politely. Before they could tell me how sorry they all were, my earpiece crackled again.
“I’m so sorry, Kyle,” Jasmine said. “But the situation is urgent. I know the funeral is breaking up. Did you get my last transmission?”
“Yes, I did Jasmine,” I said. “Thanks for your condolences. How many missiles and where are they headed?”
“We’ve been calculating with optics, sir. At first we assumed the barrage was targeting us, but the band of space that could be targeted is narrowing every minute. This fleet no longer intersects with the projected path of the missiles.”
I frowned. “What does lie in their path?”
“Thor-6 sir. The Crustacean homeworlds.”
I froze with my hand pressed to my ear. I felt a chill.
“I’m on my way.”
I pushed through the crowd and headed for the passageway. “I want everyone back to battle stations—now.”
The murmuring crowd stopped murmuring and rushed for the exits after less than a second of hesitation. The passageway was empty when I reached it, but behind me came a crowd of crewmen.
When I reached the bridge, Jasmine surprised me with the hug. I returned her embrace with a tiny squeeze. It felt good to press her flesh against mine. Not just because I found her attractive, but because she was a real friend who’d shared a lot of pain with me over the years. When I released her, she coughed.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s all right. Take a look at the situation. I’m projecting two hours out.”
I looked, and I didn’t like what I saw. The missiles were going to crash into the Crustacean home moons hours before we could get there.
“Have you warned them?” I asked.
“Yes. I don’t know what they can really do, however. Underwater strikes aren’t like atmospheric bursts. The pressure wave will kill them. They don’t have bomb shelters, and I don’t think it would help if they did.”
“Tell them to disperse,” I said. “It’s their only defense. They don’t want to crouch in the sea, massed up at any one spot. If they just swim away from one another, spreading out over the seabed at different depths and latitudes, more will survive.”
“Maybe,” she said.
I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”
She rubbed her face. “I’ve done some math. There are too many bombs. The radiation will spread everywhere within days. The tides of the singular sea will carry radioactive seawater all the way to both poles.”
“Maybe they can stop a few of the missiles. Transmit our methods of killing missiles with concussion in mid-course. We know they have their own missiles, maybe they can stop the barrage.”
“Already done, sir.”
“Good. I’m sure the Crustaceans will do what they can to save themselves. The question is, what else can we do? Have you come up with any options?”
Jasmine looked at me. “Not much. But we do have six transports full of marines—a fair number of them are Centaur marines.”
I looked at her sharply, and our eyes met. I shook my head. “You want me to ask the Centaurs to fly into the teeth of the enemy again? To sacrifice themselves on their tiny flying sleds?”
In an act of questionable ethics, I’d once sent the Centaurs charging into enemy ships and exploding themselves. That tactic had badly damaged the Imperial fleet when it had finally broken through into the Eden System. We’d used the tactic on the Macros too, upon occasion.
“It’s a matter of numbers,” Jasmine said. “There are billions upon billions of Crustaceans out there, defenseless. A few thousand Centaurs could do a lot of damage. We’d save a large net number of lives.”
“Would you listen to yourself? ‘A large net number of lives?’ I’m not an accountant, Captain Sarin.”
“You’ve told me yourself that this is a war to the death—to extinction. We want the living beings to win it, don’t we?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “All right, I’ll look at the numbers.”
We examined them, and determined the move would be unfeasible. Launched on their flying one-man sleds, the Centaurs wouldn’t have enough acceleration to get to the enemy missiles before they reached Thor-6. Almost as important, by the time they’d gone so far ahead of our fleet, they would be moving very fast. It was unlikely they could target and intercept the missiles and explode themselves at the precisely right moment.
“It was too much to ask, anyway,” I said. “I have another idea.”
Jasmine cocked her head to one side. I could tell she didn’t really believe there were any other viable options. This was proof to me that even my best officers liked to stay inside the box with their solutions.
“We could send our fighters,” I said.
She frowned for a moment, unsure what I was suggesting, then her eyes widened.
“Oh no, sir.”
I nodded my head, becoming more certain by the second that my idea was the right move. “We can send the fighters in now. They have plenty of range and a much greater rate of acceleration than this slow-moving fleet. If we launch quickly enough, they might even be able to shoot down some of the missiles that are going to rain down on the Crustaceans.”
She shook her head rapidly, making her non-regulation length black hair fly. “You can’t do that. They’ll be wiped out without Fleet support. Worse, you’ll be leaving the main fleet undefended. Never split your forces in the face of the enemy. Isn’t that what you’re always telling your officers?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But this is about more than winning a battle as cleanly as possible. This is about preventing an extinction event. The Crustaceans are an allied species, whether they want to admit it or not. And don’t forget, I talked them into giving the Macros a good look at their middle claw, which is why they’re being targeted now.”
She crossed her arms and took a step back from the table.
“What are you orders, Colonel?” she asked.
“Have both carriers launch two of their fighter squadrons. Each ship will hold the other half of their wing in reserve.”
The crew complements on our carriers were smaller than earthly carriers. Gatre only had a crew of about two hundred service people, plus the pilots and a platoon of shipboard marines. I’d kept the command structure streamlined as well, and we didn’t have a CAG officer. We did have a Tactical Operations officer, and a Gunnery officer for ship defense. But Captain Sarin was in direct and overall command of everything that happened on her ship, including the actions of her fighters.
Jasmine relayed my launch order to Miklos, who commanded the second carrier. I could tell her conversation with Miklos was heated, but after a few terse comments, he apparently accepted it. Then she spoke to Tactical Operations, who gave orders to the crews in Gatre’s launch bays.
Klaxons sounded all over the ship. Soon, the deck began to shiver under our boots as the fighters were shot from the four long tubes once every fifteen seconds or so. It looked and felt a lot like launching a barrage of missiles.
I wondered if Commander Decker was among the pilots, and if she would survive the day. I didn’t bother to check the rosters. That sort of decision was up to the carrier captain and I didn’t want to interfere.
I took a break once the fighters were away. I headed to my cabin and washed my face, which felt sticky from stress and sweat. Then I went to the wardroom and was served coffee
that looked like a mug of crude oil.
The voyage had been a long one. The coming battle would be difficult, but we had long ago formulated our plan of attack. I had a little time to think.
Sitting there, sipping my coffee and wincing with each bitter swig, I went over my long relationship with Sandra in my mind. It had been turbulent and exciting. I wasn’t yet able to comprehend how life would be without her.
At length, my mind came around to the subject of the unexpected offer I’d received from Kate Swanson. The doctor’s cabin was quite near the wardroom, and I figured she was probably in it at the moment. Medical was empty now that our single critical patient had been given a one-way ticket to the hot, white star that irradiated Gatre’s hull.
I had sensed earlier that Kate might be entertaining ideas about forming a relationship with me, but I hadn’t been sure. After the proposal she’d delivered at the funeral, she’d left no doubt in my mind.
Her suggestion of companionship seemed a little crass in retrospect. After all, Sandra’s body had barely cleared the funeral tube before the woman had made her play. She was a fine-looking lady, and the fact we were close to the same age held some appeal to me. She was sophisticated, educated and experienced. A person of substance.
But I told myself I didn’t want any pity-sex, if that was what had been on her mind. At least, not on this terrible day…
-38-
Our fighters didn’t make it there in time to intercept the enemy missiles. We considered firing missiles of our own to form a force-wall against the enemy barrage. But the physics of the situation were against us. In space, even a nuclear warhead does not form a large region of destruction. Firstly, because there was no air to push together into a moving shockwave, and secondly, because space was incredibly large. The enemy missiles were simply too far apart for us to kill more than a handful of them before they reached the water-moons. I made the hard call, deciding I would rather shoot at the enemy ships in close battle than waste the ordnance now.
When I returned to the bridge, everyone seemed more tense than when I’d left. I stepped up to the tactical consoles, and Ensigns melted away to make room for me. I was wearing battle armor now, and Kwon was still following me around. The staffers gave us sidelong stares.
“Can someone give me a sitrep?” I asked.
Captain Sarin turned to me. “Both fleets are converging on the gas giant and her flock of moons. We’re decelerating hard, as are the Macros.”
“How about turning off the engines, coming about and coasting in?” I asked.
She hesitated. “We thought of that, sir. But the idea has been rejected.”
My eyebrows rose high. “Who did the rejecting?”
Miklos, who was on my viewscreen as a headshot, shook his head vigorously and leaned forward. His nose loomed into the camera alarmingly.
“I did sir,” he said. “We could coast in and arrive earlier, but we’d have to fight the entire battle in one flyby if we did it that way. Due to our high velocity and inertia, we can’t just do a U-turn. We’ll have to zoom past the enemy and do a long turn-around to come back into range again.”
“I know that,” I said. “The question is what we can do to them in a single pass. Can you guarantee me we can visit enough destruction on the Macros to stop them from giving the Crustaceans a deathblow?”
“In short,” Miklos replied, “the answer is no. We can’t do it. Their ships are as tough as they’ve always been.”
“What about the fighters?” I asked. “They can decelerate much faster than the bigger ships can. Let’s get them in there and let them harass the enemy, up-close and personal.”
“We can’t do that Colonel,” he said, then he hesitated. “Let me amend that. It would be an unwise use of a limited resource. In fact, I suggest we recall the squadrons we’ve sent already.”
“Explain.”
“They can’t stop the missile barrage,” he said. “We know that now. They—”
“I want to know why that happened, too. Give it to me, we have time.”
Miklos’ eyes traveled toward Jasmine, who met them. There was a tiny, unspoken communication. I could see it happening, despite the screens and the relative distance between them. I hated these moments when my officers tried to manipulate me. I had to fight to stay calm. I assured myself I’d get to the bottom of whatever scheme they had in mind and make my own decisions. I knew my staff, even at the highest levels, thought I was a loose cannon. Perhaps, they were even correct in some instances, I’ll give them that. But as the overall commander of Star Force, I wanted to be in the loop at all times. It was my job, and it was their jobs to present the facts clearly and completely.
“Very well,” I said loudly, “since you have no clear objections, I’m going to order—”
“Please sir,” Miklos interrupted. “Let me explain.”
I tried to cross my metal-encased arms. I was annoyed when I realized the movement was impossible. This new battle armor was too thick to permit it. Sparks flew from my gauntlets and bracers for a moment, then I gave up and let them drop back to my sides. This did nothing to improve my mood. I stared intently at Miklos’ image on my screen.
“The situation has changed slightly. Our optical systems have now pinpointed the enemy target. It is Princeton.”
I frowned. “Princeton? All the missiles are going there? They’re all headed for one moon?”
“Yes sir,” he said. “That is problematic for us. As you know, it is difficult to tell the exact flight path of a missile from this distance. They can retarget and shift. But now, due to their extreme velocity, they are past the point of no return. They can’t shift their goal and hit anything else of value, not even if they want to. They’re simply moving too fast to change course with the remaining time and fuel they have.”
I nodded, studying the tactical layout. “Let me guess, Princeton is the farthest moon from our fleet. The easiest target for them to hit. But why just that world? This is a huge barrage—surely they could knock out whatever military capacity the single world has with far less.”
Another glance was exchanged between Sarin and Miklos. Again, I tried to ignore it.
“We don’t think that’s their plan,” Captain Sarin said. I turned to her and I saw a haunted look in her eyes.
I frowned. “Not their plan? What then—ah…”
I understood, suddenly. The implications were horrifying. The Macros had no intention of disabling the Crustacean military. They weren’t planning to invade at all. They were here to kill the population.
I swallowed and stared at the screens. “We can’t stop their missiles, and they’re all targeting one planet. What are our damage estimates? How many civilian deaths?”
“All of them, sir,” Captain Sarin said. “Nothing will survive. Much of the ocean will be blown to vapor. The crust might even crack open, if they strike with enough fusion warheads along a single fault line, here…”
She went on for another minute or so, detailing how billions upon billions were doomed to die. An entire world teeming with life was about to be extinguished and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I tuned Sarin’s voice out, as the finer points didn’t matter.
“Get the Crustacean High Command on the line, will you?” I asked when she had finished.
It took longer than it should have, but soon I had someone who identified themselves as a “Research Coordinator” on the line. It was a male this time, and as far as I could determine, his name was Nagog. Marvin did the translating, and I did the talking.
“Coordinator Nagog,” I said, “it is a sad day, and I have grim news for your people.”
“Please keep your comments terse and to the point, human,” said Nagog. “I’m involved in a variety of projects at the moment.”
“I can well imagine. Are you aware of the approaching fleet and its intentions?”
“Of course.”
“Have you got a battle plan to meet the enemy?”
“We have plan
s to meet all our enemies. Your actions will be repaid a thousand fold. Your young will boil in their nests tomorrow, as surely as ours will today.”
I frowned. “Perhaps there is some kind of misunderstanding. Our fleet is coming to help you against the Macros. We will fight a great battle in your space to defend you. Do you understand our intentions?”
There was a hesitation. “We will meet all our foes with equal ferocity.”
“That’s just my point. It may look like we are on an attack course against your worlds, but we aren’t. Don’t waste any resources shooting at us. The Macros have launched their missiles, and they are all headed for you, not for us. We will destroy the machines for you, but we’re requesting your aid to do so. As far as I’m concerned, Star Force is allied with the Crustacean people.”
“We can’t accept an alliance on a permanent basis.”
I rolled my eyes. These people were impossibly difficult to deal with. They were facing their own destruction as a people, and still wanted to maintain neutrality.
“All right then, how about we ally for the next twenty hours? After that, we’ll break it off. Is that temporary enough for you?”
Another hesitation ensued, this one was longer than the first. At long last, the Crustacean returned to the phone.
“We would like to address the process. It is not being adhered to. Proper protocols have been established, and shall not be breached unless—”
“Unless what?” I demanded suddenly in exasperation. “Is this not enough of a circumstance for you to break your bureaucratic vows?”
“There are no such ‘vows’, as you term them,” Nagog said huffily. “But we will accept your offer of a short term peace. Any violation of these terms will—”
“Yeah, right,” I said, “good luck to you too. Just aim your guns at the machines, not us, and we’ll do the same. Riggs out.”
Captain Sarin turned to me reproachfully when the connection closed. “We should coordinate with them more closely than that.”
I threw up two gauntleted hands. “What am I supposed to do? It took me ten minutes just to get them to agree not to shoot at us while we defend their worlds for them. I’m not going to waste another minute trying to tell them how to best use their own defenses, whatever they are. These people are impossible to deal with. It’s all about procedure and protocol. I’m surprised some predator didn’t eat them all a million years ago.”
