“Sir,” said the Sensor Chief. “Enemy ship is starting to decel at three hundred and fifty-three gravities.”
“They’re getting down to jump speed, sir,” said the Helm. “And they’re altering their vector to head to New Marston.”
And there are millions of people on that frontier world, thought the Captain, staring at the plot. That definitely changed the entire situation. Now it wasn’t just a matter of damaging a ship that was already too heavily damaged to get away. It was keeping that ship from killing another planet and millions of citizens.
“Scranton will not be able to intercept, sir,” said Sophie Drake, his XO, from her station in CIC, in the stern central capsule.
“Then I guess that leaves it up to us,” said Zhukov, shaking his head. “I want us on a least time intercept. Estimated time?”
“Fourteen minutes, sir,” said the Helmsman, his voice taunt with tension. “They will be able to make their first jump seven minutes after. And we will be able to jump right after them.”
If there’s anything left of us, thought Zhukov, finishing the unspoken part of the sentence.
“Set course and acceleration. Tactical Officer. I want all weapons targeted on their hyperdrive arrays when we get within range.”
“I’m not sure we have enough firepower to disable them, sir.”
I know, thought the Captain, considering how much energy could be generated by a two hundred and forty thousand ton destroyer hitting a battle cruiser at a closing velocity of point two light. Enough to take out that battle cruiser, he had no doubt, though it would end his ship and his crew as well.
* * *
“Why is that one ship leaving the other behind?” asked the Empress, pointing at the plot.
“I believe the cruiser is not capable of making intercept before the Fenri ship jumps. The destroyer is still able to make the intercept, so they are going to close and fight.”
“And what is their chance of surviving?” asked the Empress in a horrified tone.
None, thought Sean, looking over at the larger plot that showed the space that was invisible to the ships on the spot, well out of their sensor range. That plot showed the New Marston system, with all of its planets, and the shipping moving through it.
“What is that?” asked Sean, pointing at a large icon that zoomed in to reveal two vector arrows at the edge of the system.
“Those are two of our battle cruisers, your Majesty,” said Admiral Innocent, pulling up information on her datapad. “The Galileo and the Admiral Nimitz. Two hyper VI class capital ships.”
“And they’re already in normal space?”
“Yes, your Majesty. They jumped over forty-seven minutes ago, and are accelerating into the system at their maximum rate.”
“So the enemy won’t know they’re there until they jump into normal space?”
“That would be correct, your Majesty,” said McCullom, a quizzical expression on her face. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that those ships will be able to take the Fenri under fire before they can leave the system, as long as the Fenri don’t know they’re there for about forty minutes. And one has a wormhole com, correct?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Which can also be configured as a wormhole launch system?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” agreed McCullom, confusion written across her face.
“Then order the battle cruisers to power down their drives five minutes before the enemy ships are predicted to enter normal space. They are to wait until the enemy is far enough into the system that they can’t decel and get out before they are engaged.”
“And if the enemy launches at the planet?” asked McCullom.
“Do those ships have the latest mark of missile aboard?”
“Yes, sir,” said McCullom, her eyes lighting. “And the Fenri missiles are only capable of five thousand gravities. Our missiles can chase them down and take them out.”
“Just like the destroyers did in the last system this Fenri attacked,” said Innocent. “That should work.” She looked over at McCullom. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
Sean looked over at his officers, who had been following the situation continuously for weeks, not getting more than a couple of hours of sleep a day. Nanites scrubbing toxins from the bodies and brains of exhausted people was all well and good, and because of that tech people were able to function well beyond the point where they would have collapsed prior to that innovation. But scrubbing toxins only went so far, and after a while humans still needed real sleep.
Because you’re like the rest of my officers, thought Sean. You’re too damned tired to think clearly. That gave Sean some ideas on how to reorganize his high command. Not to take the control of the war out of their hands, but to spread the workload out a bit. Otherwise, there would be more errors caused by fatigue.
“Send the needed orders,” he told his people. He looked over and squeezed Jennifer’s hand. “We don’t have need for those people to die. Not this day.”
* * *
“Weapons range in six minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer.
And we might get in a couple of volleys before they start blowing holes in our hull, thought the Captain. He was keeping close track on the course of his vessel, ordering slight adjustments so the ship would be on the track he needed it to be on for its final maneuver. He was sure that the Chief running the helm knew what he was doing, but probably not any of the others. And he preferred for them not to have guessed. It would be bad enough when the time came, without adding mental torture to the crew over the approach. It wasn’t like they could abandon ship, not without a hyper capable shuttle aboard. Any that bailed in life pods or suits would just catastrophically translate back into normal space. Over ninety percent of those would die, and the survivors would find themselves drifting in empty space, with rescue unlikely.
“New orders coming in from high command,” shouted out the Com Tech in her heavily accented Terranglo. Zhukov still had trouble reading her face, but he thought he read the relief on her visage. “We are ordered to break off. To change our vector and go into a following course. To keep track of the enemy, but not to engage. Command has something else waiting for them.”
“Helm,” shouted Zhukov, almost jumping out of his seat in excitement at the prospect of living past this day. “Move us away from the enemy and into a following vector. We will follow them down into the system and see what happens.” They would have a front row seat to whatever fate was waiting for the Fenri. He hoped it would be a good show.
* * *
“Preparing for jump into normal space, my Lord,” said the Driver, his shoulders tensed up, as were those of all the bridge crew. You never knew what might be waiting when jumping into normal space outside of a system. Graviton emissions could tell the approaching ship where the major bodies of the system were, and where larger vessels boosting, or even smaller ones accelerating at a high rate, might be. But that was about it.
“Enemy destroyer still following,” said the Master of Battle. “Do you wish for us to fire on them when they drop into normal space?”
“No,” said the Lord of Millions, who only had eyes for the system ahead at the moment. “I want everything in this system destroyed. We will save our weapons for targets of opportunity when they appear.”
The Master of Battle gave a head motion of acknowledgement and went back to his board, ready to lock on to targets.
“Jumping, now,” called out the Driver, and the ship slid through the hole in the dimensions, back to the familiar universe of black space and bright stars. The Fenri were hit by the nausea that seemed to affect all living creatures, theirs less than most.
“Locking in targets, now,” called out the Master of Battle, and objects started appearing on the plot, glowing red as they were locked into the targeting computer.
There was of course the inhabited planet, over two light hours distant. It had a moon with industrial bases on the surface, a
s well as orbital stations and a pair of forts. The asteroid belt had several targets, major mining stations. There were twenty-three commercial ships boosting in the system, a couple of hyper capable freighters, a liner, the rest were system only ships that would not be able to escape no matter what.
“No sign of their system defense ships,” said the Master of Battle. “I thought there were supposed to be a half dozen destroyers.”
“Yes,” said the Lord of Millions, looking at the plot, trying to spot the ships he knew were there. “They’re in hiding, trying to trap us.” He was sure the humans were not hiding out of fear. He had seen them in combat, as recently as this day, and knew they were just as courageous as his own people. But they weren’t the kind to throw their lives away for no reason. They were crafty as well as brave.
“Fire on the targets you have,” ordered the Lord. “We will see if we can get a reaction out of their hidden ships.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Seconds later the ship shook slightly as it started cycling missiles, each functional tube putting out a missile every fifteen seconds. In minutes it had fired over a hundred missiles into the system, aimed at the planet, moon and asteroids. It fired another couple of spreads, targeting their commercial vessels, which were just about helpless against any kind of missile attack. And still the enemy ships didn’t respond.
“Are they just going to let their inhabited planet be wiped clean of life?” asked the Master of Battle.
“Impossible,” said the Lord, giving a head motion of negation. “They must not be here. Perhaps that is why they fought so hard against us before we got here. They knew there were no defenses here worth the name.”
“We have launches from the forts,” said the Master of Battle. “Thirty missiles. Sixty.”
“That’s all?”
“So far, sir. Accelerating at five thousand gravities. Estimated time of impact, six hours.”
“And we will be through here well before that time,” said the Lord. “Perhaps we can even get in a shot at one more system.”
* * *
The battle cruiser Galileo was a little under fifty light minutes from the Fenri ship when that vessel entered normal space. The Fenri was not decelerating, nor was it accelerating, it was simply coasting inward at point two seven light. It could kill its motion in a little over an hour and start back out if it boosted at its maximum obtainable rate, about sixty percent of what it had been before it had accumulated damage to its drive systems.
Galileo launched, sending out a stream of thirty missiles from the wormhole she carried, each travelling at point nine five light, each weapon moving along a course that would intercept the Fenri ships in a little over fifty two minutes. The missiles were almost impossible to track, their grabbers powered down, only running their electromag fields to protect the seeker heads from radiation and particle erosion. Two minutes after that launch another thirty were on the way on the same track, powered down in the same manner. Missiles were not cheap, but they were a hell of a lot less expensive than capital ships, or planets for that matter. High Command had determined that this raider was going to die, right here and now, and it was willing to expend the ordnance to do so.
* * *
“Missiles running straight and true,” said the Master of Battle, a slight smile on his face, eyes gleaming.
The Lord of Millions nodded. He knew the feeling, and in fact was experiencing some of it himself. That feeling of power, of having sent over a hundred weapons at an enemy, each of them carrying warheads as large as any his species had ever deployed. And the enemy ships were still missing, the only one on the track the damaged destroyer that was still following. And maybe I can spare a couple of missiles to blot it out of space, thought the Lord. Then we could disappear again, and reappear in their space lanes, taking ships when we would.
“Begin to decelerate,” he ordered the Driver. “I want us back into hyper in three hours.”
“I can get us back into hyper in three hours and twenty-two minutes, my Lord,” said the Driver, looking over his shoulder.
“That will have to do,” said the Lord. “I almost wish we could stay and watch the planet die, but I guess it’s more important to get on with the business of the Empire.”
* * *
The Imperial battle cruisers picked up the activation of grabber units on the Fenri ships. It took only a few moments to recalculate their trajectory. The first wave of missiles was only ten minutes from impact, but unless they started to make course corrections, they would miss the target. A grav pulse com went out to both waves of missiles, telling them to turn on their tracking and to engage their grabber units to make course changes. At the same time every Imperial warship in the system fired up their own propulsion systems, all launching on the enemy missiles at the exact same moment.
* * *
“We have ships on the sensors, my Lord,” called out the Master of Battle in a panicked voice. “We have missile launch. Sixty missiles heading for us just appeared on the screen.”
“Just appeared? How?”
“I don’t know, my Lord. One instant there was nothing there, the next sixty missiles, coming in at point nine five light.”
“It was their wormholes,” hissed the Lord, knowing he had been foxed. They fired them as soon as we were in system, set to come in on ballistic. And there is no way we can avoid that many missiles coming in that fast.
“How many missiles do we have left in our magazines?”
“We have seventy-three we can access, my Lord,” said the Master of Battle. “Port forward magazine is cut off due to battle damage, so we can’t use those unless we transship them outside the hull.”
No use in bothering with those, thought the Lord, looking at the incoming missiles on the plot. “Fire sixty-three of them at the enemy battle cruisers. Maybe we could get lucky and kill one.” Though we won’t be around to see it.
“And the other ten?”
“Launch at the destroyer that is still dogging our trail. I think they deserve to go to one of the deepest hells as well.”
The Master of Battle gave a head motion of acknowledgment, then went to work. Moments later the battle cruiser started to shake slightly as she launched. After about a minute she stopped, flushed dry of long range weapons.
“We might be able to kill all of those incoming missiles, my Lord,” said the Master of Battle with a hopeful expression. “We still have over three hundred normal space counters on board.”
The Lord stared at the male, wondering at his naivety. If they were lucky, they might generate hits on three quarters of the incoming. If they were lucky, they might handle ten of the remaining fifteen with lasers and close in weapons. If they were lucky. And then the enemy would just send another swarm of high velocity missiles at them.
* * *
“We have missile launch. Ten missiles on a heading toward us at five thousand gravities. Estimated time of impact, thirty-three minutes.”
“Time to hyper barrier at best acceleration?”
“Thirty-five minutes, sir.”
So there is no way we’re going to get away from them. All we can do is depend on our counters and lasers, what there are of them, and hope we can ride it out. “Fire a spread of missiles at those incoming. Set to detonate in front of them. Then prepare for another spread to launch as soon as we have an assessment on those.”
“Aye, sir. Firing a spread of missiles.” The destroyer shook as it rotated on its axis, sending out missiles from each set of tubes as they were brought to bear. In moments eighteen missiles were in space, heading toward the enemy incoming. Eighteen against ten seemed good odds, except the enemy missiles would try every evasive maneuver they could generate, and the destroyer would be lucky to kill five or six of them at a high combined closing speed.
“Everyone into the tanks,” he ordered next, getting up from his chair and heading for his armor cubby. He backed into the cubby, which mated with his suit and opened it up along the seams which appeared as the
nanoskin and armor unzipped. The suit was pulled back into the cubby, and Zhukov stretched for a moment as the hard armor was lifted from his body.
Everyone on the bridge followed suit, until they were all down to the light garments they wore under their armor, while the acceleration tanks rose from the floor of the chamber. The ship was capable of less than five hundred gravities acceleration, not because of the lack of grabber power, but due to the degradation of the inertial compensators that were built into those units. The liquid filled tanks would allow the crew to handle another thirty gravities acceleration, if not in comfort, at least not with the torture of so many gees forces crushing them to death.
Zhukov climbed into his tank, stepping into ankle deep liquid, the door sliding shut behind him and sealing. Further liquid came flowing in, rising quickly, while the Captain made sure his breathing apparatus was working. The liquid rose around him, and he floated in the center of the cylinder, protected by the cushioning effect of the fluid from the extra gravities the ship was about to generate.
“All crew are in the tanks,” came the voice of Drake over his link.
Zhukov acknowledged, then sent the command over his link, ordering the ship to pile on the extra gravities. The grabbers dug into the fabric of space, pulling the ship along with greater acceleration, killing its velocity into the system and starting it on its way back to the hyper barrier. They continued to convert inertia to heat, radiating it out from the white hot supermetals. Not enough heat, and not enough inertia, but enough for the crew to survive in the tanks, and maybe get them out beyond the barrier before the enemy missiles got to them.
* * *
The Imperial battle cruisers fired again, this time from their internal missile magazines, sending over two hundred weapons streaming after the Fenri weapons heading into the system. Each missile, one of the newest designs, was capable of ten thousand gravities sustained acceleration, and they leapt after the enemy weapons that were generating a mere five thousand gees. Into the system the six destroyers and eight frigates of the system defense force also fired, their missiles, of the older design, heading for intercepts with the enemy weapons that were heading toward them. The forts in orbit fired a couple of spreads themselves, their much larger missiles, carrying fusion warheads instead of the antimatter variety that ships used, accelerating outward at the same rate as those of the destroyers.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 10: Search & Destroy Page 32
