“I’m sorry, Admiral Paka, but you are making no sense. The bombers are out of weapons and I’m sure they’re nearly out of fuel. Following them back to their ship, or ships, is the tactically sound thing to do. We can hit their ships while the bombers are rearming so we don’t have to face them. If we let them go now, the next time we see them they will be refueled and rearmed and a much bigger threat to the fleet. Now is the time to attack their mother ships, and fleet tactical doctrine supports this strategy.”
Paka took a deep breath, trying to control herself. She let it out slowly then transmitted, “Admiral Epsilon, I am well aware of your fleet doctrine, as are the rest—as are the Winged Hussars.” She hoped no one caught her slip. After decades of being one, it was hard not to identify as a Hussar. “I can almost guarantee you that the Hussars are baiting you to go into the asteroid field, because they’ve set up an ambush there. Turn around, now, and rejoin the fleet!”
“I’m sorry,” Epsilon replied, “but who are you to tell me what to do or not do? I have thousands of years of experience and a fleet tactical manual that has withstood the test of time. Do you? I do not believe so. Besides, I seriously doubt Prime Base is where you say it is. It does not make tactical sense; it is too out in the open. The object you are proceeding to is nothing more than a decoy, a distraction. It is probably loaded with defenses, and when we get there it will blow up in our faces. No, I am going to follow the bombers back to their real base—or their carriers, wherever they are headed—and destroy what we find there so we do not have to worry about them attacking us again. That is the real target, not some bait that you dangle in front of us.”
“You fool!” Paka exclaimed, losing her patience. “You arrogant windbag! What do you think happened to your precious Admiral Omega? It was something similar that Cromwell used to kill him. I should know—I was there!”
“I see,” Epsilon replied. “So you were part of the sneak attack to kill our beloved admiral, and you are now probably trying to use us as cannon fodder for your precious Mercenary Guild! Just because we aren’t part of the guild doesn’t mean we don’t understand military tactics! We understand them very well—even better than you, as has been laid plain for all to see here today. And to besmirch the honor of Admiral Omega? Once we are done dealing with the Humans, we will be back to deal with you.”
“Stupid fucking Izlians,” Paka said with a growl as she disconnected the channel. “They build decent ships, but the Merc Guild would be better off without them.”
“New forces entering the battle zone.”
Paka turned at the SitCon’s announcement and examined the CIC’s huge Tri-V. A force of between twenty and thirty ships were accelerating toward the emergence point. For some reason the sensor ops couldn’t lock down the exact number of ships, or their types. More asteroids?
“Why can’t you firm up that data?” she demanded, and used her pinplants to highlight the inbound ships.
“I don’t know,” the Bakulu sensor ops burbled. Paka knew from extensive time dealing with the two long-standing Bakulu command officers on Pegasus, Glick and Chug, this particular Bakulu was disconcerted at the least. “I thought it was active jamming, but there is no indication of EM bleed, which would be indicative of it.”
Like the indistinct number and class, the tracking information, displayed as lines leading out from the ships, kept swinging back and forth. The targets were going hundreds of kilometers per second. In order to deviate their courses that much, they would have to be pulling hundreds of gravities. Impossible for a manned craft.
“Launching sensor drones,” the Captain Glashpooka announced, acting on his own initiative.
Paka nodded in agreement with the move. The sensor drones were capable of incredible speed and would provide steadily increasing data starting in only seconds. It was eleven seconds before the plots of the new ships cleared up even a small amount. Entropy, what are those? Paka wondered. She’d served with the Hussars for most of her adult life after Peepo helped get her inserted as a sleeper agent, and she’d never seen anything remotely like this.
“I have high confidence on their target,” the sensor ops said. “It is the disabled Maki battleship.” The Bakulu worked his sensors for several seconds. “Entropy, they are fast!”
“Can you get a visual from the drones?” Paka asked.
“Coming up now.”
On the main Tri-V, images formed. At first Paka thought it was a distorted image, then she realized it was the ship which looked distorted. No ship she’d ever seen looked like them, more akin to a fish than a starship, though a fish with radial symmetry. She thought there were aspects which reminded her of the Egleesius. Their hulls seemed to scintillate in the starlight, and she decided it was a form of ECM built into the ship’s very structure.
“Targets are no larger than corvettes, or light frigates,” was the final report.
Paka shrugged. Combat ships as small as those were no real threat to a battleship, not even one that couldn’t maneuver. Besides, with the amount of Gs those craft were pulling, they were certainly unmanned. They’re coming into the battleship’s weapons range, she noted.
Thanks to the sensor drones, she knew there were twenty-eight of the craft and in three sizes, though precise displacements were not forthcoming. Shortly before the battleship would have been able to begin firing, the twenty-eight tiny ships exploded into motion, splitting into seven groups of four, spinning around each other and the central point of their flightpath. Then the flightpath altered, and they came together, dancing like a kaleidoscope before again breaking into four groups of seven but spinning but in a different pattern.
The movement patterns seemed to have infinite variety and were almost hypnotic to watch. It took a full minute for Paka to realize she’d been staring, and the battleship hadn’t fired. “Why haven’t they engaged?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Glashpooka replied. Then the dancing ships fired their own weapons.
Paka had been expecting missiles, or lasers. The crackling actinic light left no doubt in her mind—they were particle accelerator weapons.
“Estimated yield 40-100 gigawatts per beam,” the TacCom said upon reviewing the data.
“So, between one and three terawatts total?” Paka asked. She watched as the ships fired over and over, timing the shots at three second intervals between pulses.
“That is accurate,” the TacCom said. “They are firing using the same rotating patterns as their evasion. The effect on the battleship’s shields is…energetic.”
The Tri-V centered on the battleship as the smaller ships assailed its shields. Not having to use power to maneuver, because its engines were wrecked, the battleship could apply most of its energy to tactical systems. Particle accelerators were the most effective weapon against a ship’s shields, able to impart vast amounts of energy into them until their capacitors overloaded. A ship compensated by either being multiphasic and able to move them as they were depleted or roll the ship to bring new shields to bear. The new ships’ attack made both tactics useless by chewing at the shields like a chainsaw.
The battleship unloaded with everything it had at the dancing and spinning little ships. It was like hitting a ghost. Missiles flashed away in waves, then the battleship’s shields failed, and the particle beams tore into it, carving through armor and exploding magazines. It was over in less than a few heartbeats.
“Entropy,” one of the Bakulu CIC officers cursed. Tactical showed one of the enemy ships was destroyed, though Paka thought it might have been more of an accident than a successful shot.
“They’re changing course,” TacCom said. “The ships are coming for us.”
Paka examined the Tri-V and scowled. At the other end of their engagement zone, the surviving Winged Hussars ships were lining up for what would be their final attack. The new ships might be a threat to a single disabled battleship, but Paka had two perfectly operational battleships and thirty-nine screening ships; she wasn’t nearly as vu
lnerable as the stupid Maki had been.
“Allocate a squadron of escort ships to intercept the small, unusual ships,” she ordered. “Prepare to destroy the inbound Hussars.”
* * *
Ferret One, Asteroid Defense Base Kilo, New Warsaw System
“Power spike!” Skald exclaimed as a warning illuminated on his system. “More! Multiple power spikes all around us!”
“Power spikes as in not the remaining Avengers?” They were down to a total of sixteen, Thorb knew. He’d tried to stay out of range, yet close enough to the Izlian ships that they continued to follow, but two more of the bombers had been picked off by the chase armament on the Izlian ships. “Where are they coming from?”
“They’re coming from all over!”
“What do you mean?” Thorb asked, his head snapping back and forth. He had so few bombers left, and each was precious. He didn’t want to lose any more to a sneak attack, or…whatever this was. Then he saw the flare—no, multiple flares—from an asteroid as they raced past it in close proximity.
“It looks like there’s something on the asteroids,” Skald said. “There are at least twenty separate power sources!”
“It is the asteroids,” Thorb agreed. He watched on the battlespace Tri-V as the gap he had just flown through closed behind him. It had been big enough for a battleship to fly through; now, a frigate wouldn’t have been able to squeeze through.
“The asteroids—they’re moving!” Skald said, as the giant hunks of rock began accelerating back toward the ships following them.
Thorb gave a sad smile. As he watched, the asteroids picked up speed. “I think that’s our sign,” he said as the adrenaline of being chased drained from his body. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
IMS Fresha Two Seven, New Warsaw System
“Admiral, I have ship engines lighting off in the asteroid field in front of us!”
Admiral Epsilon pulsed in self-satisfaction. “I told the stupid Veetanho the fleet was out here,” he said. “What is it? What do we get to destroy?”
“I am not sure,” the sensor operator replied. “There was nothing, and now there are twenty-one ships heading toward us. They appear to be cruiser class, but I am having a hard time identifying them. I don’t know what kinds of shields or screens they have, but it is like nothing I have seen before.”
“The screening frigates are coming within range,” Epsilon said, looking at the Tri-V. “Tell them to fire!”
The SitCon gave the order, then turned to face Epsilon. “They are firing, sir, but they say their weapons are having no effect. They are missing more often than they’re hitting, and even when they hit, nothing happens. They can visually see flashes of light on the targets, so they know they are hitting something, but it’s not having any effect.”
“The incoming ships are continuing to accelerate toward us,” the sensor operator reported. “They are now accelerating at just over twenty gravities…now thirty gravities, and still accelerating. They will be within range of the main body shortly.”
“Admiral,” the SitCon said, “the frigates are concerned that their weapons aren’t having any effect, and that the Humans appear to be on a collision course with them.”
Epsilon waved a tentacle at the SitCon in derision. “Tell them to keep firing. Their weapons will burn through the shields eventually. Besides, it is important to know your enemies. The Humans value their lives, no matter how unworthy they are, and they would not ram our ships. They are obviously planning close aboard passes to limit the amount of damage they take getting past our screen. They want to get to our battleships with their ships as intact as possible.”
The icons for several of the frigates winked out, and Epsilon floated away from the Tri-V in concern. The data didn’t make sense. The Humans didn’t use ramming attacks, but that was the only possibility, based on the evidence. Something had smashed through the three frigates, destroying them utterly. What was it that Paka had said? The Hussars used asteroids to attack?
“Skew turn!” Epsilon ordered. “Reverse course! Get us out of the asteroid field immediately!”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirteen
CIC, New Warsaw Defense Command, New Warsaw System
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Nigel said as the first three asteroids collided with the screening frigates of the Izlian fleet. “Lasers just don’t work very well on nickel-iron asteroids, now do they?” The frigates had been primarily armed with lasers and must not have had many missile launchers. They had only fired a few missiles; not enough to make a difference.
“Yeah,” Sansar said with her first smile of the day. “That kind of damage won’t buff out.”
“Ma’am!” the SitCon called. “It looks like the Izlians are waving off the chase. They have all gone into skew turns.”
“Very well,” Sansar said with a nod. “This is our only chance. Continue the attack. Target two asteroids on each of the battleships and one for as many of the cruisers as we have asteroids.” One of the more recently added system defenses, Alexis Cromwell had modified their contract to add a series of asteroid kinetic impact devices to the area around the emergence area, based on the results of a battle she’d had. Although the Horde had started on them, and had gotten the motors and shield generators rigged to twenty-six of the asteroids, only five had actually been emplaced. The other twenty-one hadn’t been towed to their intended positions; they were still in the asteroid field and hadn’t been close enough to use during the battle…until the Izlians had gotten too close.
Now, however, there was no escape. Powered by micro-drone fusion engines, the asteroids were able to accelerate at over 90 gravities for several minutes—far faster than what the manned ships could. Once a ship wandered too close—like the Izlian fleet had—there was almost no escape.
“Two minutes to impact on the first battleship,” the sensor operator noted.
“Ah, Colonel Enkh?” one of the comms techs asked. “I think the Izlians are trying to contact us?”
“They are?” Sansar asked with another smile. “I wonder what that could be about?”
“They don’t want you to break their shiny toys?” Nigel asked in return.
“Open a channel to them,” Sansar said. After a second, the comms tech nodded; Sansar was online.
“Admiral commanding the Izlian fleet, this is New Warsaw Defense Command, Colonel Sansar Enkh commanding. What can I do for you?”
“We surrender!” a strange, obviously synthetic voice said. “This is Admiral Epsilon. We surrender! Do not hit us with your asteroids! We surrender!”
“Want me to call them off?” the SitCon asked.
Sansar sighed. She’d really been looking forward to destroying the battleships, but at this point, it would have been wasteful, especially with the dreadnought still heading to Prime Base. She needed to focus on that.
“Yes,” Sansar said. “Divert the asteroids.” Sansar examined the system with its myriad engagement zones and found a spot deep in the asteroid field. She switched back to the comm. “Admiral Epsilon, we will accept your surrender. I am transmitting coordinates to you. Divert to those coordinates and power down all defenses. We will send someone over to formally take your surrender when we are able.” She closed the connection.
“When do you suppose that will be?”
“No idea,” Sansar replied, “and not my focus anymore.” She looked at the Tri-V, which showed the dreadnought getting ever closer to the largest icon on the display. “How much time until the dreadnought reaches Prime Base?
“The dreadnought will arrive in the area of Prime Base in two hours,” a sensor tech noted.
“Two hours?” Nigel asked. “We still have two hours to catch them?” Sansar turned as he nodded, obviously making up his mind. “That’s still time to run them down. Okay…I’ve got this.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Sansar asked. “You can’t take on that dreadnought with your merc cruiser. You�
�ll be slaughtered! You have absolutely zero chance! Don’t throw your life away! If nothing else, think about your son!”
“I’m not going to duel with the dreadnought, I’m going to board it and take it over from the inside. It’s our only chance at this point. We just don’t have anything that can take that beast on.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Sansar exclaimed. “A ship that big has to be filled with marines. Even if you could get inside its defenses, you’d still be vastly outnumbered.”
“Be that as it may, my honor will not allow me to stand by while the Merc Guild savages Prime Base. It. Will. Not. I don’t know whether or not I will be successful; all I know is I have to try.”
Sansar nodded once, slowly. She understood. It was all she could do to remain at the command center while the battle raged all around her. She had been raised as a fighter, born and trained to lead troops in battle, and she wanted nothing more than to fight. Still, someone had to coordinate the defenses, and there was no one better left to run them than the person who had designed them, especially since Alexis—who had co-designed them, and who she’d always expected to be in command—was no longer with them.
“I know you do,” she finally said in a small voice, fighting back the tears. She knew, with all her heart, that she would never see him again. “Blue Sky watch over you.”
“You’re not going alone,” Walker said, vacating the SitCon position. He turned to Sansar. “Ma’am, the fight is almost done here, and you don’t need me, but it looks like Colonel Shirazi surely does. I owe him, ma’am, and he’s going to need the assistance. Let me take the War Pony, since it’s got our boarding pods, and go with him. I heard what you said—he’s going to need every bit of help he can. Even just getting aboard will be difficult, but maybe we can overload their defenses if we send enough assault pods. Thorb’s squadron is landing here. Maybe I can get them to support the attack. Regardless, we can’t let the dreadnought get to Prime Base. We’ve got to do everything we can to stop it. Ma’am, we’ve got to try!”
Alabaster Noon Page 17
