by Dietmar Wehr
Phantom
Murphy jumped in surprise when the W.O. yelled out, “We’re getting targeting data on enemy missiles!” Murphy looked at the tactical display that was now showing a flashing yellow icon roughly halfway between Phantom and Bogey1.
“Zoom in tactical,” ordered Murphy. The display zoomed in to show both sides’ missiles. The six recon missiles were flying in a hexagonal formation spread out so that enemy missiles would fly between them. By sending radar beams that intersected ahead of the recons, enemy missiles could be picked up with enough warning time to track them precisely as they passed the recon missiles. That targeting data, combined with knowing the exact distance and position of the recon missiles, would allow Phantom’s tactical computer to compute exactly where the ship’s anti-missile lasers should aim. At least that’s what the theory and the simulations said.
Murphy watched in fascination as 12 red dots representing enemy missiles moved in a tight cluster down the center of the space that was bordered by the six recon missiles.
“Missile defense batteries are locked on! Manual or auto firing?” asked the W.O.
Murphy thought fast. Manual firing meant the lasers would start firing now and continue until ordered to shut down or until all targets were confirmed destroyed. Auto firing meant that the tactical computer would wait until the computed probability of a hit reached the optimum level. Because of the time required to recharge the lasers after each shot, manual firing had the risk that the lasers would not be recharged in time to fire at the optimum point. On the other hand, the optimum firing point was based on assumptions that might not be valid. The Empire might have upgraded their missile technology too. Better play it safe.
“Manual firing, Weps. Confirm the order.”
“Manual firing confirmed, Skipper,” said the W.O. quickly. “All lasers have commenced firing.”
“Helm, prepare for a radical evasion course change after our missiles hit,” ordered Murphy.
“Evasion course set up and on your number two screen, Skipper,” said the H.O.
Murphy checked the time left before his own volley of six missiles hit. Fifty-five seconds and counting down fast. Only forty-four until the enemy volley hit Phantom. So far no confirmation of any missiles destroyed. He held his breath.
“Two confirmed kills!” said the W.O. triumphantly. But ten more to go! Thought Murphy.
“Three more!” That left seven and twenty-one seconds to go.
“FOUR MORE!” The W.O. was shouting now. Murphy realized he was still holding his breath. This was going to be too damned close.
“TWO MORE!”
Murphy had just enough time to notice two things. The W.O.’s voice was heavy with anguish because there was one enemy missile left to go and the second thing was that there were two seconds left before impact. This is gonna hurt. He’d scarcely formed this thought before Phantom was hit. The force of the explosion was equivalent to the ship suddenly lurching in reverse with an acceleration of 25Gs for a full second, thereby overwhelming the inertial dampeners and threatening to rip consoles, chairs and bodies from their restraints and hurl them against the front bulkhead. All power was lost temporarily, but at least the artificial gravity stayed on. His chair’s harness kept his body from smashing against the main display, but the compression knocked the wind out of him, and his neck felt like an elephant had fallen on it. The pain was so great that he was sure some bones in his neck were damaged. There was something wrong with his vision too. One eye wasn’t working at all, and the other eye must have suffered burst blood vessels because he seemed to be looking through a red haze. He tried to lift his head enough to see his number two screen, but the stab of pain in his neck forced a cry of pain from his mouth. He couldn’t tell if the main display was still tracking the tactical situation, and he wasn’t hearing any further reports from the Weapons Officer. Had his six missiles hit the enemy ship yet? With no way to be sure and the pain getting worse, he made a decision.
“Helmmm…initiate evasion…” Speaking was so painful that he couldn’t finish the sentence. As he started to pass out, his last thought was of his beloved Cate.
Empire Cruiser Agincourt
Hendricks saw the red enemy icon on the tactical display begin flashing and had enough time to see that the sidebar was claiming a critical hit before the first of six high yield fusion missiles hit Agincourt. The first hit knocked him unconscious. The second hit killed him along with most of the crew. By the time the last missile hit, Agincourt was a half vaporized, molten lump. It still had enough mass left to pulverize the Phantom when the two ships collided a few minutes later.
Tigershark
Molitor watched the split-second flashes on the tactical display with a growing sense of sorrow. Her reaction was more intense because she was saddened by the loss of both ships’ crews. None of them deserved to die like this. Her sense of loss over Murphy’s death was tempered by the knowledge that his wife’s spirit would be waiting for him wherever the spirits of brave warriors went when their bodies died. She envied him that. No one would be waiting for her when she died.
After a short while, the display showed another, different kind of energy spike from the battle area. The lack of radiation and electro-magnetic pulse told her that the heat and light she was seeing must have been the result of the collision of those two ships.
“God bless you, Bret Murphy,” whispered Molitor.
“A brave act by a brave man,” said Yeager. “Valhalla will surely welcome him.”
Molitor felt an impulse to chide Sorcerer’s C.O. for his belief in an ancient pagan religion but then changed her mind. As a spaceship officer, she had acquired an appreciation for how big space really was. The idea that there was enough room for all concepts of the afterlife didn’t seem so improbable.
“I’m sure it will. Let’s maintain our random evasion maneuvers, Ernst. Their lasersats could still hurt us if they get a good look at us.”
“Okay, Rach…Commander.”
Molitor smiled at Ernst’s sudden realization that he was no longer talking with a peer but rather with his superior officer. Yeager’s willingness to acknowledge her authority would go a long way to convincing his crew and the others back at the Base to do the same. The question she now had to face was what should they do next? It would take months before the shipyard had another ship ready, and that was only part of the problem. Murphy had already scraped the bottom of the barrel in terms of finding qualified volunteers for Phantom. There was a limit on how many of the shipyard people could be reassigned as crew without negatively impacting the shipyard’s ability to build new ships, and she suspected they had reached that limit already. At least she had plenty of time to ponder that question on the way back.
Chapter Eight
Day 275/2554
Coral Sea
Midgard orbital space
Drake noticed how quiet the Bridge had gotten since they emerged from their final micro-jump. The usual good-natured banter was gone now. Everyone realized that it was time to get serious about their mission. Drake had been scratching his head over the question of how to find the Resistance during the trip here.
If the Resistance had managed to avoid detection by the Empire, how could he find them? The key had to be Midgard’s moon. The metals and other materials needed to build ships could only be obtained easily and perhaps secretly on that moon. If he could locate where the mining operation was, perhaps he could convince the people manning that facility that he was not an enemy. It would take a couple of hours to drop down to a low altitude over the moon, and Coral Sea hadn’t even started down. Before he committed the ship to that course of action, he wanted to be sure that there weren’t any ships waiting in ambush. He got up and walked over to the Detection/ECM Station.
“Any signs of other ships?” he asked.
“Nothing so far, Sir.”
“Is the gear working properly?” asked Drake. The new detection system was a finicky piece of equipment that had to b
e constantly monitored. While the principle of detecting ripples in the Ether caused by the movement of something as massive as a jump-capable spaceship was proven and tested, they sometimes still had difficulty distinguishing between natural ripples and man-made ones.
“I just checked, Sir. The diagnostics say it’s working fine.”
“Any emissions from either the moon or the planet?” asked Drake.
“Nothing from the moon. We’re picking up typical civilian radio and video traffic from Midgard. Unless the Resistance is talking in code, it’s just the locals chatting, Sir.”
After thinking about that, Drake said, “Okay. I’m going to order Helm to take us into the hyper-zone. Let’s get the ECM warmed up now, and I want you to turn it on as soon as we cross into the zone. Got it?”
“Got it, Sir,” said the young officer confidently.
As Drake walked back to his Command Station, he once again reminded himself that the new Electronic Counter-Measures gear really did work in spite of the difficulty of spoofing any radar beams and masking any energy that would normally reflect off Coral Sea’s smooth, spherical hull. The combination of Ether ripple detection and ECM cloaking should allow Coral Sea to evade any approaching ship long enough to break out of the hyper-zone and micro-jump away.
“Okay, Helm, let’s go take a close look at that moon and take your time. I’m not in a hurry.” The H.O.s acknowledgement did nothing to relieve Drake’s doubts about the risks he was making his crew take, but they were risks that had to be taken.
Two hours thirty-four minutes later:
Drake shifted his gaze (away) from the main display. Watching the zoomed-in image of the moon’s surface rapidly scrolling past for long periods of time was starting to give him a headache. Visual monitoring was worth doing, but not a necessity. It was hard to imagine any kind of mining, smelting or manufacturing activity that did not generate some kind of tell-tale heat, light or gaseous emissions. Those would be detected by the ship’s passive sensors, and physical movement would be detected by the ship’s opticals, which were being monitored by computer.
“That must have been the old SSU complex site,” said the Helm Officer suddenly. Drake looked back just in time to see a series of overlapping, rather large and deep craters, each with a ring of unusually sharp-looking rocky debris, move out of visual range. My God, those poor bastards really got hammered. That attack had been carried out by Trojan’s minions in his pre-Empire days. That meant they still considered themselves to be Federation forces, at least nominally. The fact that he, Drake, was now considering allying himself and the Brain Trust with former Federation personnel seemed quite bizarre. For a split second he was tempted to order the ship to turn around and head back to Excalibur, but he didn’t.
They finally picked up signs of unusual activity 13 minutes later. Drake ordered the ship to hover over that point and drop down even closer. The local sun was low on the horizon, generating long shadows which made it difficult to see anything out of the ordinary. Drake ordered a lidar scan. Reflections from the low-powered laser would generate a perfect image of the hidden surface.
“Ah…what have we got here?” asked Drake in satisfied tone. The computer-generated image showed a large opening in the wall of a crater. Not big enough for a ship to enter, but certainly big enough for heavy equipment to bring loads of ore or perhaps even refined metals to the surface for loading onto a ship. He turned to his Com Tech.
“Okay, Mandy, let’s start sending the pre-recorded greeting on a repeating loop. If there’s someone down there, they’re bound to be monitoring radio frequencies.”
After waiting an hour, Drake was beginning to have doubts that there really was something underground. Could it just be a natural cave he wondered. He needed to be sure, so he ordered a couple of the crew to take a shuttle down, land beside the opening and explore the cave. Coral Sea would continue to hover over the site while the ground search took place. It didn’t take long for the two men to be standing at the cave entrance.
“We’re ready to enter the cave, Coral Sea. Be prepared to lose our signal.”
“Understood. You’re cleared to proceed, Sanchez,” said Drake.
“Okay, we’re heading in.” Drake heard their breathing and knew the com channel was still open. After a few seconds, Sanchez spoke. “Well, sir, I can tell you that this cave is manmade. The floor has gotten VERY smooth, and the tunnel isn’t round anymore. It’s rectangular with vertical sides. The question is…”
The rest of the sentence was drowned out with static. Drake cursed the overhead rock that was blocking the signal from the spacesuit transmitters worn by the two men. He waited, hoping the men would remember their instructions to return within five minutes, regardless of what they did or didn’t find, if communications were cut off. When the five minutes were just about up, the static started to give way to human speech.
“Sea…can you…me? We’re returning to the shuttle. Can you hear me, Coral Sea?”
“We can hear you now, Sanchez? What did you find?” asked a relieve Drake.
“Robotic mining equipment. We saw several of them moving around. No signs of any human operators or even that provisions for human operators were made. We both think this whole underground installation is robotic.” Sanchez sounded a bit out of breath or perhaps a little bit shaken up by what he saw.
“Good job, both of you. Get back here asap. Drake clear.” As he leaned back in his chair, he wondered what to do next. Apparently that robotic mining operation wasn’t monitoring radio traffic. If it had been, then surely there would have been a response of some kind. Even if his signals had been relayed to Midgard, there had been plenty of time for either a radioed reply or a visit by some kind of spacecraft. Somebody had to be in charge of this facility. Robotic mining operations didn’t set themselves up. He supposed that it might be possible for the owners to be from another star system, making the occasional visit by a spaceship. But that only made sense if they were from a nearby star system with relatively short travel times, and as far as he knew, there were no other star systems with habitable planets within 34 light years. It was far more likely that this facility was being run by and for somebody on Midgard itself.
When the shuttle was back onboard, he ordered the ship to head for Midgard. The main colony center was just on the verge of slipping behind the planet’s horizon from the moon’s point of view. Coral Sea would take a curving path that always kept the colony in sight, just in case a spacecraft took off or landed. While the ship’s new detection gear could spot ships as far away as a full light minute, it couldn’t detect ripples in the Ether if a planet were in between, except at close range. Drake wasn’t worried about being detected. Even if the colony was sending radar beams out into space, which it wasn’t, Coral Sea’s ECM equipment would trick the radar into ‘seeing’ nothing. He was still debating whether Coral Sea would actually land at the colony spaceport. Even though the ship had started life as a freighter, it no longer looked like one after being modified to carry missile boats externally. Even a casual visual inspection would recognize that this was no ordinary freighter, so there was no sense in pretending that it was. The other factor to consider was that the ship would be very vulnerable to attack if it was on the ground. An idea occurred to him. He got up and stepped over to the Helm station.
“Sir?” asked the H.O.
“How close would we have to get to the planet to be able to see a shipbuilding complex visually?” asked Drake.
“Ah, our optics are pretty good. I’d say a couple of hundred kilometers, assuming that there’s no cloud cover, Sir.”
“If we brought the ship that close over the main Colony city, would they be able to see us?”
“Well, we’d be reflecting some sunlight if we did that while the colony was on the daylight side, but I doubt if anyone would be able to tell that it was a ship causing the reflection with the naked eye or even with binoculars. If we hovered over them at night, they wouldn’t see a thing and nei
ther would we,” said the H.O. with a laugh. Drake laughed too. It was a good coincidence that they arrived here while it was still daylight over the colony. He was just about to ask another question when the main displayed pinged for attention. A computer-generated text message scrolled across the bottom of the display.
[Two ships have emerged from hyper-space]
Drake and the H.O. both looked at the tactical display. A yellow icon, indicating unknown Friend or Foe, with the number 2 beside it, appeared near the edge of Midgard’s hyper-zone, roughly a third of the way around the planet from where Coral Sea was. As he continued to watch, the sidebar data updated with approximate vector and speed. With the projected trajectory showing, it didn’t take long to realize that the two ships were headed for Midgard, but NOT for the main colony city.
