Assault: The Globur Incursion Book 6, page 12
Medici saw the only silver lining was that the Ming system had been a principality, and it was virtually certain the empress had perished in the assault on the system. Some of the other principalities made a bit of noise, but they had difficulty getting any support since the principalities as a group could not agree that space was black.
Most imperial citizens could not care less about what was going on in some backwater rim system. They did care when they thought the government was lying to them or failing to protect their interests. Merchant shipping companies and consortiums were chafing at the convoy requirements for merchant traffic on the rim and the loss of their freighters. Losses were less frequent, but it was hard to hide the fact that huge bulk freighters were disappearing, and insurance companies were getting concerned about having to pay insurance claims for what they considered acts of war.
The whole web of deception is starting to unravel. Too many people are making too much noise, thought Medici. They will blame the Fleet, and they will demand a solution, like any spoiled child.
Medici chafed at the thought. Tens of thousands of Fleet personnel had been killed, and the fate of over two billion imperial citizens was unknown.
The Fleet had fought with everything they had, but they had been outfought and outmaneuvered by the Globur. They had few solid victories, but those victories had come at great cost. They were still far above the Globur in warship losses. The Fleet had been authorized to build a new shipyard at Gateway, and that was just now coming online. The yards at Albion had been going full tilt for years now, but it still was not enough. A new task force was mauled, and then their ships took up slips that could have been used to lay down new hulls as repairs took place.
Medici continued to pace, slowing as he turned for another lap of the office. The yards at Gateway are our greatest advantage. Now, we will be able to produce more ships. We will be able to go on the offensive. We need those new weapons. Tomorrow, I will have to stand in front of the committee again, and they will want something from me. I really do not want to guess what.
Medici had his sources in the Senate, and they said the Senate was likely going to want some sort of action against the enemy to show the Fleet was able to protect the rim. Especially the Chard system. The Chard system was almost certainly the next target. The loss of the Mongolia system after a successful defense only weeks before was a real blow. The optimism of a few days ago had vanished like steam in a cold room.
“You’re wearing a track into the deck,” said Stukov.
Medici stopped. He had not heard the chief of Fleet Operations come in.
“How long have you been standing there?” asked Medici, letting some annoyance creep into his voice.
“Long enough to see you choking on our current problem.” Stukov shrugged. “It can’t get much worse. Unless they find out who’s commanding TF16, that is.”
“Thanks for adding that,” replied Medici caustically.
“There’s still no word from TF13H. I think it will be days before we hear from them.”
“The Chard system is less than a day away,” Medici pointed out.
“True,” agreed Stukov. “However, if you had ships with limited maneuverability, reversing course to the Chard system would make little sense. There are no repair facilities there. And that system is under threat of attack from the Globur, so no safety either.”
“So, Pang will head for Gateway – if she survives,” said Medici with finality.
“I believe she will, yes,” continued Stukov. “If she has decided to make for Gateway, she’ll be arriving at any time. Tough to determine since, if her ships have damage, then the quantum drives will take longer to charge.”
Medici took a deep breath. “Yes, if they arrive at all. I suspect her task force will be badly mauled if they managed to escape.”
“And that is why you are pacing. The Senate will want us to do something. All those senators—they are raising quite a stir. Senator Strauss had her staff contact me to arrange a meeting with the Senate exiles—that’s what they’re calling themselves. They want to know what I’m doing about the loss of their systems.”
Medici shook his head. “They know you can’t meet with them or give them any information. They’re meeting with you so they can say that they tried to engage the Fleet in discussion and were ignored. Several of them have asked for standing at the oversight committee and wish to question me directly. They are trying to force me to appear before the Senate, like my predecessor Halverson did, when he pleaded to get the law changed to allow augmentation.”
“So. We still need a plan,” Stukov mused. “You can bet Chairperson Paasche will demand one, and the oversight committee will expect we have something to offer.”
“Well, we don’t have a plan,” replied Medici in frustration. “We do have two task forces that are almost ready for deployment. That’s a first. Maybe we should just ask the committee how best to employ them. They were earmarked to defend the Chard and Mongolia systems.”
Stukov laughed. It sounded strange, given their current conversation. “We can’t make a plan until we know what the hell happened in the Mongolia system.”
“Only Pang can tell us that. If she made it,” sighed Medici.
“We should send a ship. We could risk a run maybe a hundred light-hours short of the system and do some recon. If the ship maintains an erratic high-speed trajectory, it would be difficult to intercept, even if the Globur saw it coming. We wouldn’t get instantaneous information, but it would at least give us a look at the Globur assets in the system.”
“They managed to hide some of their ships in the Colmar system,” Medici pointed out. “But that distance out will give us older light…We’d see what they were up to before they detected the inbound track. It’s worth a shot. Maybe we can send a corvette from Gateway to do that.” Medici stood, pacing. “It’ll be over a week before we hear back. So, if Pang made it, we get news earlier. Otherwise… we still need that intel. It won’t be long before the Globur strike at the Chard system again. The governor has already asked to declare an emergency and begin an evacuation. She has indicated that many of those with their own ships are already fleeing the system.”
“I’ll get the recon mission going,” replied Stukov. “Let’s hope we hear from Pang before then.”
Medici nodded. “Pang is a survivor. If anyone came through the Mongolia system, it’s her.”
***
John Forest was exhilarated. His fighter wove through the asteroids responding to his deft inputs with the controls. He flew the fighter purely through his augmentation. The hard dock allowed a more direct link with the fighter, and it was the way that seemed most natural to him.
The last few days had confirmed what he already knew. He was one hell of a pilot. As the sole test pilot, he did all the piloting of the fighters at the base. He enjoyed the technical aspects of his current work, but he liked piloting a fighter, especially when no one was shooting at it. He knew he had been in battles—he knew all the evasive maneuvers—but he didn’t know just where he had fought and against who.
The fighter smoothly swooped around asteroids as he used the laser cannon to track some of those designated as targets. It was a first attempt to both boost the power of the laser cannon on the heavy fighters and broaden its frequency to do more damage to the Globur ship hull material.
After the first few shots, John had known the test would be a failure. The damage was just not that much more than before. Tracking the targets was a bit better. Not that he deeply cared about that. Any time piloting was good time in his mind. He wore a smile as he came up on the final target.
Doctor Umgabe was still working on the torpedo they had dissembled and laid out across several large benches. The doctor kept mumbling about how it was ingenious work. John thought that was a bit weird since Doctor Umgabe had invented the thing in the first place. He was a complicated man and very methodical in his approach. The warhead had been left for the moment as Doctor Umgabe concentrated on the torpedo drive systems.
John was set to test the new torpedo the following week. Doctor Umgabe was modifying some standard torpedoes into what he called the “quantum torpedo.” He claimed that the new torpedo would evade almost all attempts at interception, giving a very high probability of a hit every time.
John came through a small cloud of debris, and his last target came into range. He fired the laser and hit the target dead on. The targeting system had also been tweaked. The targets would be recovered by the techs from the base so that the scientists could analyze the results.
The enhanced targeting was one of the other projects in the base, but the new beam was from the main project Asswrap. John knew that the eggheads on the targeting system project Eat It would be pleased with the results. He really felt the targeting system was quicker and more intuitive.
With the final target hit, John looped the fighter back to the base. He flew tight against some asteroids on the way back, enjoying their pockmarked surfaces ripping past at high speed. The fighter’s shields took care of any sort of debris or small rocks. Bigger rocks, well, that was what laser cannons were good for. It was nice to get away from the scientists for a while and have a bit of fun. Everyone on the base mostly kept to themselves and made no effort to make friends with others. John felt pretty isolated, but he did get to fly missions, and that was one of his only enjoyments.
Too quickly, he came upon the base, and the hangar door slid open. John set the fighter down on the cradle in the bay. The heavy fighter was a large sphere, the most efficient shape for things like shields and quantum-drive fields. The cockpit was in the center of the fighter, and access was through an armored tunnel. It allowed pilots to mount fighters quickly but getting out in normal gravity meant a bit of a climb.
John zipped out of the tunnel using the grav field in his augmentation. People seemed surprised to see him pop out of the fighter like a cork out of a bottle. He felt like he had always exited his fighters this way, but the looks he had gotten the first few times had him thinking that this was nonstandard practice. In fact, he had looked up Fleet SOPs, and they were silent on the subject. Everyone said augmentation was fairly new, but that did not sound right to John. He used his augmentation effortlessly.
Doctor Umgabe stood on the catwalk above the hangar bay with his face impassive as John settled lightly in front of him. “Targeting system was great, Doc!” John reported.
Doctor Umgabe nodded. “Indeed, we got a great deal of useful data during your—activities on the way back from the last target.”
“Well, Doc, you can’t blame a guy for having a bit of fun.” John cracked a wide grin.
Umgabe nodded. “I’m sure the data will be most interesting, but more testing is required.” Umgabe paused. “Under controlled circumstances. You understand, Lieutenant?” Umgabe raised an eyebrow at John.
“OK, OK, Doc. No deviations from the test protocol. But,” John held up a finger, “the test was technically over. Maybe we need a better test?”
“As always, John, you do test the patience of the staff. But in this, you are correct,” replied Umgabe. “We must be more precise in our test design. The results for the Enhanced AI Targeting Interface Project are most positive. However, the resulting initial data for the Advanced Heavy Fighter Experimental Weapons Research Project is most disappointing.”
“Score one for Eat It and a zero for Asswrap,” John replied.
Doctor Umgabe sighed. “You know I do not approve of the nicknames you find so amusing. Perhaps your efforts are best directed at other pursuits.”
“And deprive you, Doc?” John replied. “Of your righteous indignation? Why would I do that?”
“Indeed, Lieutenant,” replied Umgabe in his usual mild voice. “We will formally debrief in one hour. The teams will value your insights as the pilot.”
“Right, Doc., I’m going to hit the showers. See you at the debrief!”
John jogged down the catwalk and out the hatch in the direction of his quarters.
***
Doctor Umgabe reviewed some of the data on his portable datapad, shaking his head at the initial results of the enhanced beam test. He looked back up at the hatch and thought of the man who had just left.
His weekly report to Vice Admiral Stukov was about due. There was not much to tell. John Forest was a talented pilot. He was intelligent and inquisitive. He knew a lot about technical specs and heavy-fighter maintenance but still had no specific memories of anything before waking in the sickbay on Outpost 24.
His use of his augmentation was much more intuitive and seemed much more practiced than the other Fleet personnel. Doctor Umgabe surmised that he had been augmented much longer than them. Curiously, augmentation had only been widely implemented just over a year ago.
It was a puzzle, but he had his fair share of puzzles these days. The work on the quantum torpedo was progressing very well. The design was ingenious and simple. He respected the elegance of the work. It felt like he was stealing someone else’s work when he took credit for inventing the quantum torpedo, but that was necessary to maintain the cover story he had been given – and to maintain the secret that might never be told. Only John Forest knew the truth – if his memory ever returned.
He was sure that he or someone else would have stumbled upon it sooner or later, but now he understood the secret of the weapon. Making some models and testing them was going to be fairly simple. If they worked, then they could be mass produced and deployed to the Fleet to give them a real advantage.
Chapter 13
Rear Admiral Pang breathed a sigh of relief as Dixmude transitioned out of quantum drive for the final time on her journey to Gateway.
What was left of the crews of her ships rode the heavily damaged carrier, and two battleships transitioned close to Gateway. The journey had been a difficult one. It had taken them precious time to shape their course back to Gateway. Damaged drives and reactors had meant longer quantum drive charge times and limited ability to affect their course. They had also been carrying a lot of velocity that had to be bled off to allow them to assume orbit at Gateway.
Dixmude still only had limited communication ability. Damage control had their hands full with other things, like making sure reactors did not blow up and that the quantum drives were correctly balanced. Still, despite the challenges of working in and around the wreckage, often in a total vacuum, they had done enough. Pang opened a channel. “Gateway Control, this is TF13H. Rear Admiral Pang reporting in.”
There was no visual communication possible on her damaged bridge, but the voice on the other end answered right away. “We read you TF13. Orbital slot assigned. Welcome home,” was the crisp reply.
There must be a lot of jaws hitting the floor in the control center, thought Pang. We were 18 ships. Now all they see are the three wrecks we managed to salvage.
She glanced at the holoplot. The two other remaining ships, the battleships Trident and Venganza, were keeping station off the carrier as TF13 shifted course for their orbital insertion.
TF14 was still there. TF14 was light a few battleships—ones that had been sent with TF13 to beef up the task force. Those battleships are why we survived at all, thought Pang. Brown will lament the loss of his ships and his crews. He is so frustrated to be left here at Gateway on guard duty because of that business in the Castellan system.
“Twelve minutes to orbital insertion,” reported navigation.
Pang gave a curt nod. She felt some relief that they had made it back to Gateway. She knew her surviving ships were in poor shape, but the bridge looked almost undamaged, just a few scorch marks from some shorted-out panels.
Pang took a deep breath and felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat. She hardly noticed the acid tinge to the air anymore. The acrid smell of burned metal and plasma discharges had never seemed to fully fade. It was mixed with the aroma of burned electrical circuits. When her armor was active, it screened out these sorts of smells. The atmosphere was safe but scrubbing Dixmude’s ordeal from it seemed to be too much for the damaged environmental systems.
Pang noted that the docks that had been under construction in Gateway orbit looked complete and possibly even operational. That brought a very brief smile to her lips that vanished as she pondered the fate of the flagship and its two remaining battleships.
The armored bulkhead between the flag bridge and the carrier’s command bridge below was open, and Pang could see Captain Stutz making sure all their systems were secured for Gateway and disembarking the ships. Unless she missed her guess, the ships would be sent to the docks for assessment and repair. Dixmude’s damage-control display was a sea of red.
Repair was something they did not need the crews for, but before that could happen, the consumable munitions, such as their missiles, would have to be offloaded, per regulations. The missiles would be offloaded while TF13 was in orbit, and then the maintenance crews and yard tugs would take over.
“We are unable to link into the communications network, Admiral,” announced her communications officer in an apologetic tone.
“Understood,” replied Pang as she watched the ships slide into their orbital slot.
That means I’ll have to wait till I get to the base for any updates, she thought sourly. The other two ships might be able to link in, but Dixmude’s communications systems arrays had taken heavy damage as they had fled the Mongolia system.
Pang felt a sense of sadness as TF13 slowed to assume orbit. We lost the damn Mongolia system, and my task force is all but destroyed. I know exactly how Jones must have felt after the Markus Nebula. Without the sacrifice of the fighter wing, we would have never made it out.
