Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  “Yes, Dr. Hofstader and I were just discussing ways to…um…disable the device.”

  “Well, knowing you, Erik, disable is probably code for chucking a fusion bomb in there.” Holm took a quick glance at his protégé then turned to face Hofstader. “What does the good doctor think?”

  Hofstader cleared his throat. “First, general, if I may ask…is General Sparks coming down, sir? I believe his insight would be extremely useful. His experience runs more to practical application than my own.”

  “No, Friederich.” Garret answered before Holm did. He turned and looked at the scientist. “Admiral Jacobs has apparently captured an enemy vessel in System X2, and Admiral Compton sent General Sparks to investigate.”

  Hofstader took a deep breath and looked over at the alien structure for perhaps half a minute. Finally, he turned back toward his companions. “If I must reach my own determination then I believe my thoughts are very similar to those you ascribe to General Cain, though I might suggest we stop short of a nuclear detonation.” He took another breath before continuing. “We do not have time to analyze this device, seek a way to deactivate it.” Another pause, longer this time. “We have to disable or destroy it. Immediately.”

  Garret nodded. “Unless there is another way to determine what this thing is screening, I am in full agreement.” He looked over at Holm, then Cain. “It’s just too big of a risk to leave it hidden.” He turned to face Hofstader. “Do you think you can disable the dish, Friederich? Without nuking it, I mean.”

  Hofstader didn’t answer right away. He turned back toward the edge of the catwalk and stared at the massive structure. “Yes, I think so.” He continued looking out over the room. “Actually destroying it would be quite difficult…at least without employing weapons of power very close to a nuclear warhead.” He turned back to face his companions. “But the power leads must be located underneath…and it is likely we can sever those far more easily than we could wreck the actual structure.”

  Garret stood still, staring at the ground for a few seconds before he looked up at Hofstader. “Do it.” He glanced over at Holm, who was nodding his agreement. “Erik, can you see that Dr. Hofstader has everything he needs? I know your people are in rough shape and low on supplies, but General Gilson has two fresh brigades onplanet now. They are at your disposal.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cain looked over at Hofstader. “Friederich and I will see it done, admiral.”

  Chapter 28

  Bridge – AS Midway

  System X2

  75,000,000 Kilometers from X3 Gate

  “All laser buoys fire!” Compton’s voice reverberated across the flag bridge. He’d been waiting, watching for just the right moment. The enemy had been in range for several minutes, but he wanted them to get closer. The x-ray lasers were hard-hitting even at long range, but they were extremely powerful against close in targets.

  Compton had followed the enemy closely on his scanners, looking for any indication they’d detected his buoys. He was ready to fire immediately at the slightest indication of evasive maneuvers, but the First Imperium fleet maintained its course straight for his ships. Directly toward the waiting laser buoys.

  “Issuing fire order now, sir.” Max Harmon sounded relieved. He was an experienced officer and a strong tactician, but he didn’t have Compton’s cool patience under fire. He’d have fired already if he’d been in command.

  The signal took 5 seconds to reach the buoys. Their tracking systems had been constantly updating data feeds, maintaining fire locks on the optimum targets. Now, as one, 250 atomic bombs exploded. The immense energy released by each of them was contained, for a brief fraction of a second, by strong magnetic fields that directed it into the lasing mechanisms. Enormously powerful beams of focused x-rays lanced out, invisible fingers of death traveling at lightspeed, reaching their targets in a fraction of a second.

  The two Leviathans were heavily targeted, and each one was buffeted with multiple blasts. The dark-matter infused hulls were highly resistant to normal laser fire, but the bomb-pumped x-rays tore into them and penetrated deeply into their interiors. The actual damage caused by each shot varied with the systems that were hit. Some ripped into non-critical areas of the ships, inflicting only minor damage. Others tore into vital sectors, causing secondary explosions and rupturing internal conduits and systems. Gasses and liquids spewed into space from the worst hit areas, freezing almost instantaneously as they hit the frigid vacuum.

  The buoys had been programmed to prioritize the Leviathans, but the algorithms directing the AIs were complex. A platform with a significantly better shot at a Gargoyle targeted the smaller vessel instead, and a dozen of the mid-sized enemy ships were bracketed with fire. Five were hit by multiple shots and destroyed outright, and the rest suffered varying degrees of damage.

  Compton leaned back in the chair, watching the damage reports scroll across his screen. Max Harmon was giving him verbal updates, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind was calculating, adding up the damage inflicted and comparing it to his expectations. He was silent except for a quiet sigh. The buoys had done fairly well, but they hadn’t been quite as effective as he’d hoped. He had really expected to take out one of the Leviathans completely, but they were both there, damaged certainly, but still moving toward his waiting ships.

  “We’ve got to stop underestimating these guys.” He was whispering, his voice barely audible. “We have to remember how far ahead of us they are, how tough their ships can be.” His people had done an extraordinary job so far…but there was still a hell of a fight ahead.

  “Let’s go.” Greta Hurley was terrorizing the flight deck. “I want those plasma torpedoes double loaded. All of them.”

  The maintenance crews were frantically refueling and reloading her bombers. The same scene was being repeated on every capital ship of the fleet. Hurley was harassing the crews of the other vessels over the com, which would have been marginally less intimidating if her promise to fly over to any ship that lagged and shoot the crew chief hadn’t been so convincing.

  “Sorry, admiral.” Commander Simmons was the flight deck leader. “We can’t move too quickly with these double shotted torpedoes. They’re too volatile.”

  The overpowered plasma torpedoes were something she’d invented, or at least a modification she’d asked her tech crew to make. The gas that would be superheated into plasma was compressed at much higher pressure. More gas produced a larger, more damaging plasma. But the gasses were under so much pressure, the containment vessels bordered on unstable. Dropping one could easily cause an explosion. The nuke wouldn’t detonate, and there would be no plasma, but it could still put a large section of the launch bay out of commission.

  “Would you prefer to wait until the enemy particle accelerators tear this flight deck into scrap metal…along with the rest of Midway?” Hurley knew the deck commander was right, but she wasn’t in the mood for excuses. She’d lost a quarter of her people in the first strike, and now she was taking them right back out. The least the support crews could do was load these damned torpedoes.

  Midway had a fair amount of damage, but at least both flight decks were more or less intact. If she kicked a few asses she might get her birds back out in another 15 minutes. That required ignoring virtually every safety protocol, but she’d always been convinced those directives were written by desk jockeys anyway, fools who’d never been within ten lightyears of a real battle. Her people were the best, she’d always felt that way. Now they’d get a chance to prove it.

  Hurley had reorganized her wings. She left any squadron over half strength the way it was. But she had a good number weaker than that, and three that were down to their last bomber. She combined those to make functional formations, trying to disrupt her chains of command as little as possible.

  “Greta, can you give me an estimate on your readiness?”

  She’d been leaning over a workstation reviewing her revised OB, but she straightened up and tapped the com. “Yes, Adm
iral Compton.” She paused, just for an instant, trying to decide if her timing was realistic. “We’ll be ready to launch in 15 minutes, sir.”

  Compton’s first response was barely above a whisper, and she pretended not to hear it. “I have a pretty good idea how many complaints I’m going to be getting from the flight crews.” He didn’t laugh, not exactly. There wasn’t time for that. But he was clearly amused…and pleased. “Greta, I’d say I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be by now, should I?” He took a quick breath and added, “Good job, Admiral Hurley.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Hurley wasn’t an officer who cared much for medals or honors, but the approval of a leader like Compton meant more to her than any other rewards. “We’ll do our best for you, sir.”

  “I know you will, Greta. Don’t let me keep you. Carry on.”

  She turned and looked out over the deck, panning her eyes from ship to ship. Her mood was still foul and impatient, but she was having trouble forcing the smile off her face. Praise from Compton was a rare and precious thing. Not quite as rare as a pat on the back from Admiral Garret, perhaps, but close.

  “Let’s get moving.” She shouted across the deck instead of using the com. “We’re launching in 14 minutes.” There was no way Greta Hurley was going to let Admiral Garret down…no matter how hard she had to push her people.

  Jaguar shook hard, rolling and pitching wildly until her maneuvering thrusters righted the ship. The particle accelerator had barely clipped her aft. The damage wasn’t severe, but she’d lost some of her oxygen, and the blowout into space had given her the roll.

  “Get us back on vector, Lieutenant Barrat.” Duke’s voice was worn and raw from the smoke permeating the ventilation system. The AI would have cleared the impurities from Jaguar’s life support, but the scrubbers were damaged and operating on sharply reduced power.

  “Yes, captain.” Barrat sounded worse…just as hoarse, but rattled as well. Not many officers were as cool under fire as John Duke.

  Barrat worked his controls, feeding instructions to the navigational AI. Jaguar’s attack vector had been carefully plotted, but any release of pressurized gas or liquid into space imparted a velocity, skewing the ship’s 3 dimensional vector. The automated system had stopped the rolling, but it hadn’t fully corrected the primary thrust to restore the previous heading. That vector was straight at a wounded Leviathan…and Duke was planning to plant two plasma torpedoes in its gut.

  “Correcting course now, sir.”

  The ship lurched, softly as the positioning thrusters fired and then harder when the main engines pulsed. The whole thing took less than a minute.

  “We’re back on our initial vector, captain.” Barrat coughed again. The smoke was getting thicker. It wasn’t really dangerous, at least not yet, but it was getting more annoying. “Range to target, 155,000 kilometers and closing at 9,000 kilometers per second.”

  Duke was in command of the entire task force, but he’d released his captains to seek out and attack their optimum targets. Right now he was wearing his hat as Jaguar’s skipper, and his only concern was the Leviathan his ship was racing toward.

  “Range to target, 120,000 kilometers.”

  Duke stared at the targeting scope. His gunners were good, and the closer he could get them, the better chance they had of landing the torpedoes right on the bullseye. They were well within firing range already, but he was going closer. Much closer.

  “Passing 100,000 kilometers.” Barrat knew Duke was planning on taking a good shot, but they were getting close. The enemy defensive fire was lighter than expected, but it was still dangerous. Jaguar had taken a couple hits already. They were both minor, but her luck would run out eventually.

  Duke just sat still, his eyes focused on the scope. If Jaguar could score two direct hits here maybe, just maybe, they could finish off the immense enemy battleship. The First Imperium monster was badly damaged; that was obvious from the low rate of interdictive fire she was putting out. Scanners confirmed internal explosions and large areas of the ship without power. Duke’s targeting was focused directly on the hardest hit area, the weak spot.

  “We’re under 80,000 kilometers, sir.” Barrat’s tone was getting edgier with each announcement. He looked over, but Duke’s eyes didn’t move from the scope. “Captain…”

  “As you were, lieutenant.” Duke sat rigidly as he addressed his nervous subordinate.

  “We’re at 55,000 kilometers, sir.” The tactical officer’s face was glistening with sweat. They were beyond point blank range now, closer than Barrat had ever seen a ship come to an enemy vessel.

  Duke turned his head slightly, holding the mic from his com in front of his lips. “Fire.”

  “I want that Leviathan.” Hurley’s voice was loud, determined…almost bloodthirsty. “Duke got the other one, and by God, this one is ours.”

  In the end, her flight crews hadn’t had her ships ready to go on time. But even with the extra five minutes, they’d done a monster job, and she knew it. She wondered offhand if that was the fastest turnaround on record. It had to be close.

  “We’ve got six squadrons coming in on it, admiral.” Wilder’s job was piloting the command fighter, but he’d also been serving as an ersatz tactical officer for her. “They’re stacked up in waves, and I’ve assigned them each an attack quadrant.”

  “Excellent, commander.” She sat quietly for a few seconds. “And bring us around. We’re going in with that attack.”

  Wilder paused, conflicted. He wanted to attack as badly as Hurley did, but he’d been instructed to keep her away from the fighting. He’d relented and agreed to fly up with the squadrons, but going on a close-range attack run would make a mockery out of Garret’s orders. It wouldn’t have been an issue – the original command fighter didn’t have any weapons. But after he’d crash landed that ship on Midway, they’d been forced to change to another bomber, a fully armed one.

  “No arguments, commander.” Hurley knew she was putting him in a bad spot, but she didn’t care. At least not enough to sit out the attack.

  Wilder let out a deep breath. “Yes, admiral.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds. I’m sorry, Admiral Garret, he thought…but she’s right…we have to be part of this. “Prepare for 8g thrust.”

  The bomber shook as the thrusters fired, and Hurley and her crew were slammed back into their seats. The burst would be short, only 30 seconds or so…not worth dealing with the acceleration couches.

  The “Lightning” fighter-bomber was a long sleek craft, though there was no need for aerodynamic efficiencies on a vessel built to fight in space. Most likely, it was simply the result of subconscious prejudices by the designers. Whatever the reason, the Lightning was one of the more attractive ships Hurley had ever seen. She often imagined a whole wing of them together, and they looked majestic and fearsome in her mind. In reality, of course, even the ships of a single squadron were spaced so far apart they were invisible to each other with the naked eye.

  “Approaching final attack run.” Wilder’s voice pulled her out of her daydreaming. “We’re going in with the third wave.”

  She glanced at her display, watching the reports of the first wave’s assault as they came in. They’d lost half a dozen bombers on the approach. The Leviathan was badly hurt, but its point defense systems were still filling space with hyper-velocity projectiles. Her survivors came in fast and closed to point blank range. She saw hit after hit reported as the damage assessments poured in. The overpowered plasma torpedoes packed a hell of a punch, especially if they hit near an existing breach and didn’t have to expend most of their strength blasting through the hull.

  The second wave attacked on the heels of the first. The point defense fire was weakening, and only two ships were hit. Hurley was watching again as her people flew in close and unloaded their torpedoes into the guts of the wounded enemy giant. She was amazed how many hits the gargantuan vessel could take. Her people had scored enough hits to destroy five Yorktowns…and the Leviathan had been d
amaged already.

  “Third wave going in.” Wilder was excited now too, totally focused on the attack. His coerced violation of Garret’s orders was forgotten, at least for now, and all he cared about was taking down the beast. “Would you care to take the shot, admiral?”

  Hurley looked over at Wilder. She did want it…more than she could express. But it was poor conduct, she thought, to supersede an officer as capable as Wilder. “Thank you, commander, but it is your shot.”

  “I’d be honored, admiral, if you’d care to take it.” He sounded sincere.

  She knew he was full of it, that he was just being respectful. But she wanted it too badly to say no again. “Thank you, commander. Your gesture is greatly appreciated.”

  She pulled up the firing scope, staring into it as Wilder fired the engines to line the fighter up for the shot. There were numbers and symbols running up the screen on one side of the scope…data from the firing computer. The AI would actually provide most of the targeting data. Hurley would just inject a bit of gut feel, firing a bit early or late…or adjusting the trajectory a touch.

  “The ship is yours, admiral.”

  She took over flight control as her workstation became live. The pilot was usually the gunner as well, and she couldn’t take a proper shot unless she was flying the ship too. Her eyes were focused, her finger half-tensed on the trigger. She was going to wait another few seconds, but then she jerked her finger and fired almost immediately. It was a feeling, the instincts of a veteran.

  Her torpedo launched and quickly closed the distance, slamming into the Leviathan dead center. She blasted the engine at 3g to change the vector slightly allowing the bomber to clear the immediate area of the enemy ship.

  At least five other torpedoes hit the giant First Imperium vessel within 3 or 4 seconds. It stood there, drifting along in space, spinning wildly as internal explosions and material leaks impacted its previous vector. Hurley watched intently on the monitor, waiting, wondering if her people had done it.