(TCOTU #2) No Way to Start a War, page 12
The fighters are taking far too much time. The Hollies will be in missile range in three minutes. Heskan’s eyes dropped to Task Group 2.2’s symbols on the plot. The surviving ships had set an intercept course for the Vanguard fleet but had left behind their surviving destroyer and frigate escorts, the worst damaged of their ships, in order to maintain .2c. That gives the group just a damaged dreadnaught, one damaged and one undamaged command cruiser and a light cruiser. Worse still, they’re all out of missiles. They’ll have to get within heavy laser range to fight. Heskan admired the courage of the fleet but knew it was futile. They’re eleven light-minutes from the Hollies so there is no chance they can stop that fleet from firing. At best, they’ll chase off the Hollies after they’ve emptied their missile magazines at us.
Lieutenant Truesworth spoke as he adjusted the main wall screen. “Captain, incoming message from Bulwark. It’s being sent just to us.”
The wall screen split in half, partly showing the tactical plot, partly showing the image of Lieutenant Commander Durmont. Durmont’s expression was grim. “This is the commander, Lieu— uh, Garrett. That Hollaran fleet will be firing at us soon.”
Heskan waited for Durmont to continue speaking but after several seconds decided the squadron commander was content with stating the obvious. “Yes, sir. My weapons officer estimates we’ll face between three hundred thirty and three hundred sixty missiles per wave with fifteen total waves.”
“Right,” Durmont replied nervously. “Uh, that’s what I thought too.” He hesitated as he leaned closer toward the screen as if it would afford him privacy. “You’ve been here before. Do you have any advi—” He cut himself off and looked around his bridge before speaking again. “Do you have any recommendations more useful than a first year cadet could make?”
Heskan bit down hard on his lip. He wants my advice but thinks it makes him look weak by asking for it. Why can’t he understand that he should be asking his vice for options? He must drive his first officer crazy. Heskan cleared his throat. “We’re stuck on this course while we recover the fighters, making this our probable fighting formation. Admiral Hayes doesn’t seem willing to stop the recovery so we can run. You might want to recommend to him doing just that.”
Durmont began shaking his head vigorously. “No, no. At the moment, he’s very upset with the CAGs and our… fighter pilots,” he said, gesturing derisive air quotes when saying the last words. “The command channel is not a pretty place to be. He’s furious at how long the recovery is taking but essentially said we’re not running away when Two-Two was chewed up like that. He really wants those fighters back and rearmed.”
Heskan had figured as much. If Hayes was unwilling to let the carriers run, there were no attractive options. Further, Task Group 2.2 would not stand a chance against the Vanguard fleet if it faced them before the Hollarans emptied their missile magazines. It’s time to do our job, he thought grimly. “Captain Gary and I have discussed an option to lend support to the frigates while still maintaining our areas of responsibility. Let me send you that information right now.” He rapidly forwarded Vernay’s data. “It’s not groundbreaking material but it might shore up our center if we end up weak there.”
Heskan watched as Durmont’s eyes looked down and his head began to shake back and forth. Does he even realize he’s doing that? Heskan wondered.
Finally, Durmont looked back at Heskan. “This isn’t a prescribed formation maneuver, is it?”
“No, but the data is sound,” Heskan countered.
“Well…” Durmont trailed off as he thought. “Okay, my first instinct is to reject this. It’s not an official maneuver and I see me being severely chastised for trying something that isn’t regulation in the middle of combat when it fails.”
Inwardly Heskan groaned. Come on, Shane, take a chance for once in your life.
“However,” Durmont continued, “if we find that our center is being compromised, I’ll give this another look. Maybe something unconventional won’t be seen as panic but as inspiration by the admiral.” He shrugged.
Heskan smiled at the tepid support, not so much because he felt like it but to give Durmont some positive reinforcement. “I’m glad you’re staying open to suggestions, Commander.” It’s a start, Heskan told himself as Durmont closed the channel.
“The Vanguard force is now in missile range, Captain,” Truesworth declared. As the tactical plot once again filled the entirety of the main screen, inverted “V” symbols representing missiles were springing forth from the enemy fleet. The symbols were translucent, “ghost” images as they were merely predicted missile shots that had yet to be confirmed, but Heskan knew they would be real enough. The missiles raced toward the task group as each carrier struggled to recover their fighters. The landing operation was only two-thirds complete. Damn, not even close. At least our second fighter strike group is launching missiles at the Vanguard force now. Those missiles and the approach of Task Group 2.2 might give them second thoughts about trying to close to heavy laser range on the carriers.
The tactical plot quickly cluttered with information. All but one of the fighters of the second strike force had launched their missiles. That single fighter, suffering from a targeting computer lock error, turned back toward the carriers as its fifty-five brothers altered course to intercept the Hollaran Carrier group, 14.5lm away. The two hundred twenty Brevic missiles streaked by the first wave of three hundred forty Hollaran missiles flying nearly reciprocal courses. Missiles continued to pour from the opposing warships and five minutes later, the final wave launched from the Hollaran Vanguard fleet.
Truesworth continued to focus Kite’s optics on the enemy as he said, “No course change from them yet, Captain. It looks like they want to close to knife-fighting range with us.”
Heskan detected the anxiety in the young lieutenant’s voice. “Let them,” Heskan answered with false bravado. “I don’t think they’ll like our second-gen RSLs.” The RSL, or radiant stream laser, was a relatively new concept. The weapon system shared the same principles as the general-purpose laser but amplified the radius of the beam greatly. The RSL also fired a continuous stream of focused electromagnetic radiation instead of the bursts of a GP. The product was a laser beam ten times larger than standard that emitted large amounts of radiation. Not only did RSLs have the range of a heavy laser, a full 10ls, but it was more likely to harm incoming missiles than the standard laser. Even the radiation that accompanied a near miss from an RSL could hopelessly scramble a missile’s internals and disrupt its flight path. The price of the radiant stream laser was it took four times the space as a quad AMS laser turret and eight times the power. While Bulwark had first-generation RSLs, Kite and Aspis were equipped with the second iteration, the cutting edge of the fledgling technology.
“Has an RSL ever been fired at a Hollie?” Vernay asked.
“Not that I know of. Maybe you’ll get your name in the history books yet, Stacy.”
“Oh,” Vernay smiled wickedly at Heskan, “I’m going to be famous but not for that.”
Heskan was thinking of a response when Lieutenant Spencer, his attention focused on Kite’s point defense displays, announced, “Vampires entering RSL point defense range now.”
“Carriers have suspended recovery operations during the attack, Captain,” Truesworth added.
Heskan half-expected to hear the noise from Kite’s twelve firing RSLs or see the lights on the bridge dim as the weapon systems pulled power from the ship’s power plants; however, he noticed nothing unusual. Even after his experience on Anelace, the surrealism of the quiet that pervaded interstellar combat was alien to him.
“Vampire Alpha Twenty-eight destro…” Spencer cut himself off and guiltily looked in Vernay’s direction.
Tranquility descended on the bridge belying the maelstrom of destruction taking place within 10ls of Heskan. As Kite’s tactical display serenely glowed with successful missile intercepts and erased the appropriate symbols, on the perimeter of the hull, gunner’s mates were frantically working to achieve target lock on missiles traveling in excess of 170,000,000 meters per second.
The number of missiles in the Hollaran first wave dropped leisurely at first but as they entered the 5ls firing envelope of CortRon 15’s AMS lasers, the interceptions escalated quickly. Within the squadron, weapons officers worked to ensure their assigned portion of the defensive network was covered, prioritizing surviving missiles to the one hundred fifty-four AMS and GP lasers used in Task Group 3.1’s defense. Additionally, the 2-Gen RSLs of Kite and Aspis and 1-Gen RSLs of Bulwark blotted Hollaran missiles from space with direct hits and proximity damage. Also firing, but only infrequently, were Bulwark’s and Sentinel’s kinetic defense turrets which vomited streams of projectiles at any missiles slipping inside 1ls of either ship. The KDT, a weapon of last resort, had fallen out of favor inside the research and design circles given its miniscule range. The new Buckler class ships like Kite and Aspis did not include the outdated weapon.
Kite’s RSLs had been firing for sixteen seconds when the final missile in the Hollaran first wave was destroyed 2ls short of the frigate, Coach. The weapons directors of each ship immediately provided new targets to their RSL gunners, who trained the massive turrets back out to their 10ls range to begin the work of target acquisition on the second Hollaran missile wave, 14ls away. With only six seconds before the next volley of missiles was within firing range, Heskan began to wonder if the RSLs would cool sufficiently. He looked at his first officer with concern.
“Yeah,” Vernay answered before the question was asked. “I’m running the numbers now and it doesn’t look good. The engineers designed the RSLs expecting a longer break between waves. These new Greyhounds are sixteen percent faster than the old Dachshund Hollie missiles and volley thirteen percent faster as well.” Vernay frowned. “They’ve achieved parity with us on missile launch rates and now their missiles are quite a bit faster than ours.”
Heskan shared her sour expression. Why can’t the enemy be stupid for once? “That means our RSLs aren’t going to get a long enough cooldown period between salvos and that could add up to big trouble as we process more and more waves.”
As if emphasizing his concern, Kite’s RSLs began firing at the second wave as Vernay tried to put the best face on the situation as she could. “The temperatures aren’t bad now. It’s possible they’ll plateau at some point with no effect.” Her grimace told Heskan she did not believe it.
Heskan looked across the bridge at his weapons officer. Lieutenant Spencer was in mid-conversation with someone over the mic in his shocksuit helmet. Probably Ensign Miller, the officer in charge of the RSL section. I’m sure Spencer sees what we’ve seen.
The second wave entered the 5ls shell of the squadron’s smaller lasers. Hundreds of shots over the next eight seconds brought the final missile down 3ls from Eagle and the process began anew for the rapidly approaching third wave.
“Captain,” Spencer said quickly, trying to squeeze a conversation into the six-second lull, “our RSLs are heating up faster than expected. It’s not serious now but it might be later.”
“I understand,” Heskan answered. “You let me worry about the heat and keep using them to their fullest extent. You’re doing great, Tony. Keep it up.”
Heskan leaned closer to Lieutenant Vernay. “Any ideas?”
Vernay shrugged and offered, “If we could coordinate with Bulwark and Aspis, maybe we could stagger their use a little but I don’t think we have that kind of time in the middle of an action. As someone who’s sat in that chair—” she pointed to the weapons station, “—it was a relief to hear you tell him to keep using them. He’s got enough pressure right now without the captain taking away some of his resources.”
“Glad you approve.” Heskan returned his attention to the tactical display. The third wave had been stopped like the two before it. Heskan began to feel optimistic. Three down, twelve to go. We still have a long way but we’re holding our own. Even the frigates are doing okay.
The fourth wave of three hundred forty missiles raced toward them. At 10ls, Heskan watched the RSLs wipe missiles from space with each shot. The missile count entering the 5ls shell was lower than the wave before it. However, as the seconds passed, the interception rates slacked off. The number was falling but not as fast as the first waves. Sentinel’s KDTs knocked down two missiles, sparing the destroyer; however, several missiles in the center of the formation evaded the myriad of laser bursts targeted at them.
Chariot’s blip on the tactical plot pulsed three distinct times. Heskan flinched as he saw the frigate’s defense computer desynchronize from the squadron’s point defense network. Did we lose her?
Heskan looked at Truesworth and questioned, “ELTI on Chariot?”
Heskan could see the back of Truesworth’s helmet shaking back and forth. “No, sir, at least not yet.”
“Captain Dixon’s point defense will be definitely compromised, Captain,” Vernay pointed out.
Heskan stabbed at his console to open a channel to Bulwark. The slowly blinking comm light mocked him as he waited for Durmont to respond. Come on, Shane, accept the damn comm request. As he waited, he watched the fifth wave bear down on the task group. Precious seconds later, he cancelled the request and ordered, “Jack, send this to Bulwark: Commander Durmont, Kite is pinching in toward the center of the formation to help cover Chariot’s AOR. We’ll still be able to cover most of our own area of responsibility but the center needs help. Heskan out.”
“Diane, move us… here,” Heskan said as he placed Vernay’s maneuver on Selvaggio’s navigation plot.
“You’ve got to follow the speed milestones precisely, Diane,” Vernay added quickly.
“Aye-aye,” Selvaggio affirmed but looked skeptically at the intricate permutation of drive and thrusters she would be asked to use. Keeping her focus on her panel, she said, “WEPS, we’re moving but I’ll be sure to keep your current turrets unmasked while we do.” Spencer waved curtly to acknowledge. He was speaking once again quickly into his helmet’s mic to someone deep within the ship.
The stress on the bridge washing over him, Heskan glanced at Vernay and tried to say casually, “So your maneuver saves the day and the fleet. Is this how you get famous, Stacy?”
Vernay’s smile was undefeated but a little ragged as she shook her head. “Nope.”
Chapter 14
Kite needed over a minute to gradually creep closer to the formation’s center while ensuring she did not speed past a location that was able to cover her assigned corner of the square. There would be no time to rotate the destroyer and use the ship’s drives to correct for any overshot of her new position. The fifth and sixth Hollaran waves had come and gone during that time and while the missiles of the fifth wave had stretched the escort defenses to the brink, they had somehow held. The sixth wave saw three missiles leak through the center of the defensive umbrella to make runs on Avenger but the carrier’s own quad AMS pulse lasers shot down the offenders. By the time Kite was less than 1ls from her desired position, the seventh wave arrived.
Heskan immediately noticed the RSL fire coming from Bulwark had diminished. The first-generation radiant stream lasers had finally attained a heat level that began to disrupt their rate of fire. The incoming missile total was reduced but not by nearly enough. As the vampires breached the AMS laser shell, it was obvious to Heskan the center of the formation would not hold. So close to AMS range. The anguish rushed through him as he cursed. Dammit, if only I had just ordered Kite to move instead of wasting time trying to get through to Durmont.
Seven missiles eluded the laser net. All seven made their runs against the frigates. Chariot exploded in a shower of light, heat, and fragments before her crew even knew their final defensive shots had missed. Coach rocked from a near miss and direct hit. Contemplating the hits, Heskan was grateful Kite’s optics were not focused on his squadron. Being this close means we’d probably see some gruesome images in the wreckage clouds.
“Coach has dropped out of the defense network,” Vernay stated.
As Heskan was recovering from the shock of losing a third of the squadron in mere seconds, Selvaggio softly informed him, “Kite’s at our new station, sir. Trying now to kill our momentum with thrusters only.”
“Message from Bulwark,” Truesworth interrupted.
Durmont’s ragged voice came through the bridge speakers. “Durmont to Heskan, maneuver as you see fit. I’m busy enough managing my own ship and I can’t be expected to captain everyone else’s as well.”
Heskan felt mixed relief at the backhanded approval from his commander. Still, he thought bitterly, he left just enough room for him to put it all on me if we can’t salvage this. Oh well, if I am going to own this mess, then I’m going to own it. “Diane, move us one light-second closer to the center. Jack, send this to Aspis: Captain Gary, have your ship execute Vernay Maneuver One to support our center.”
Heskan heard “aye-aye” in unison from his bridge officers.
“Stacy, help Tony with point defense. We’re going to be overwhelmed soon unless we pull off some incredible interception rates.” Heskan hated to issue the last order but he would rather have Spencer mad at him for throwing his first officer into his section unasked than dead because he did not give Kite the best chance to defend herself.
Vernay nodded once. “Yes, sir. Tony, I’ll work with Miller’s RSLs first and then help you and Fong with the pulse lasers.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Spencer acknowledged, sounding relieved.
The eighth Hollaran missile wave charged at the Brevic fleet, focused on the corners held by Durmont and Moore. It fizzled out less than 1ls from each captain’s ship and Heskan was sure that the kinetic defense turrets of both Bulwark and Sentinel had saved their respective ships from damage. Maybe the KDTs aren’t so useless after all, he reflected.
