Imprint of Honor, page 27
“Yes, sir. We can do it.”
“Without excessive casualties?”
“Yes, sir. We found intel on the Lance that shows they have a force of forty or so actual soldiers on the station, lightly armed. I’ve got forty-nine Marines with heavy weapons. With proper planning and execution, we can do it with a minimum of fuss. I’m not sure we even need the Druza assistance.”
“Fine,” grunted Orien. “When can you go?”
“Give me twenty-four hours to finalize planning and prep the platoon, and we’ll be ready.”
“Excellent. We’re already on our way back into the system to rejoin with the Lance. It’ll take us roughly another hour to get there and join up, and several hours after that to take care of some logistics. Then we have to rebuild the RF antenna. So that’s perfect. Bring me your plan when you’re ready.”
“Aye, sir.”
Orien dismissed Rick, who turned and left the room. Debating if he should return to the bridge, or go try to sleep again, Orien felt the pull. It was a pull he had not felt in many days - since they had entered the Hades system. The business of battle, and the business of survival, could have sent him right back to the bottle. But Lisa had saved him from that. She had diverted him, made him realize he had something to live for. He hadn’t had a drink since the day they entered the system.
But the bottle was in his desk. He knew right where it was. All he had to do was reach down and pull out the drawer. It would be right there.
Before he knew it, his hand went involuntarily down to the drawer, pulled it out.
I’ll just look at it. I won’t touch it. I just want to see it.
Looking down, Orien was stunned. The bottle was gone. In its place was a note, carefully folded.
Unfolding it, he read:
You’ve made it this far. Now, instead of this bottle, think of me. Think of how much I love you. Think about our future together on Aeolis. You can do it.
Lisa.
Slowly, a grin crept across Orien’s face.
What a woman!
And the alarm klaxon went off. In Orien’s embedded comm, he heard words that sent his pulse racing.
“Ship entry at the mass limit behind us, sir. Designate as bandit, Alpha One. It looks like a Krypk battleship!”
Orien got up from his desk so fast he knocked an AllPad off the top. Running out the hatch to the bridge, he took in the situation with one glance at the holo.
A million klicks behind them, a Krypk battleship had entered the system. It was moving at high speed, closing the gap on them rapidly. The holo tag attached to the ship showed intercept in twenty minutes. Orien slammed into his chair.
“Battle stations!”
“Aye, sir. Battle stations!”
The general alarm began to sound. Orien heard the sound of crew running to their stations.
“Tac, prepare the RF pulse system. We’ll take them out like we did the others.”
“Sir! Our RF pulse antenna was handed over to Vanir for his flagship! And so was the Lance’s! We don’t have that option anymore!”
“Crap!” The word escaped Orien before he could stop it. “That’s right! Contact the Lance! Get them back here as fast as possible!”
“Sir. Lance contacted. Captain English reports her ETA is twenty-nine minutes at max emergency boost!”
Too long. This guy’s all over us. We can’t stay away from him for twenty-nine minutes. And we’ve got no point defense on the bottom of the ship. We’re completely vulnerable down there.
We have to fight.
There was only one strategy that might work. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.
When in doubt, charge. Don’t let them see your weakness. Keep them focused on something else.
“Johanson, spin the ship to face them!”
“Aye, sir, spinning the ship 180 degrees!”
“Charge them! Overboost to 308G!”
“Aye, sir. Charge them at 308G!” answered Johanson loudly, the surprise in his voice not slowing his execution of the command.
As the overboost klaxon began to sound, Orien felt a strange, wild fury course through him. It was the battle rage of his Amazonian heritage, something that had come down through his genes for thirty-five hundred years - since his distant ancestors were fighting with sword and battleaxe on the plains outside Troy. It was an enormous anger that left him cold and hot at the same time.
We were so close to success. We could have overcome our problems, gone home. And now this bastard has to come in here and spoil everything.
Suddenly, in the moment, he knew exactly what his distant ancestor Penthesilea of Thrace had felt, on the plain in front of Troy with sword in hand, battling the Greeks in 1184 BC. He knew what his great-grandmother Ligeia Iona Satra had felt, as she fought her cruiser Kleitos at the Battle of Aronte, saving her people and her planet.
And he knew what his mother Andrea had felt at Orinoco, as the Bat fleet charged at her, and she stood toe-to-toe with them to live or die.
As the G-forces came in, Orien was smashed back into his chair. The weight on his body was so great, he could hardly move a muscle. His head against the headrest seemed to be made of lead, frozen in place.
“Merge now in fourteen minutes, sir!” Lt. Burke managed to call out, his voice shaky.
“Stay focused, Tac. Pretend it’s just another exercise,” Orien grunted out.
“Aye, sir,” Burke managed to respond.
I wonder…
Nearly groaning with the effort under the G-force, Orien managed to speak. “Tac. Our missiles. They have a fail-safe, to keep from exploding too close to us, right?”
Burke looked puzzled. “Yes, sir,” he managed to croak.
“What is that based on? Range, or time?”
“On range, sir. They don’t arm until they are twenty klicks away from us.”
Interesting. I wonder…
“Johanson, take us about thirty klicks up the side of that ship, with a passing velocity of about 10 kps. I want us to be able to reach out and kiss them. Understand?”
“Uh…yes, sir. I guess.”
“Don’t guess, Chief. I want our trajectory to take us within thirty klicks of that ship. Make it happen!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, have a pre-programmed button ready to charge directly over them at 310G on my command.”
Johanson looked at him in astonishment. “Sir? 310G?”
“You heard what I said, Chief. 310G. Directly over the top of them. Then a combat spin and decel at 310G to a relative stop. And I want you to hit that button exactly at in-range. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Chief Johanson said. “310G, right over the top of them, exactly at in-range, then a combat spin and 310G decel to a full relative stop.”
“No hesitation, Chief. Our lives depend on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lt. Burke, I want you to hold fire until I tell you. You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind. Your fingers are going to itch to hit that button. But don’t do it. Hold until I tell you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. Hold fire until you tell me.” Burke’s voice was possibly a little firmer as he got accustomed to the G-loading.
“Comms, send a message to the missile batteries. Quote: the outcome of this battle depends on how fast you can reload. If you reload faster than the enemy, we live. If you don’t, we probably do not live. Unquote. Send it.”
Lt. Abara gulped as he worked. “Sent, sir.”
A cynical smile crossed Orien’s face.
We are certainly going to get shot to hell. But I am going to kill this bastard.
Hades System
Captain Gelli couldn’t believe it. It was beyond comprehension.
He had brought Admiral Egill back to the system, to take charge of the fleet, and leave for Kamilaroi to destroy the Humans.
And his fleet was gone. Completely gone. All comm bands were empty. There wasn’t a single Krypk ship on the tactical net.
But there was a Human ship. A Human battleship, speeding toward the inner system, on a course that would take it to the debris field of the original scoutship that had started it all.
Where is my fleet? And what is this Human ship doing here, all alone in the system?
But…those questions could wait. First, he had to destroy this Human battleship. That was priority one.
But strangely, the Human ship had turned, was coming right at them. It had gone to a bone-crunching decel of 308G, and now it was closing fast, directly toward them, almost nose-to-nose.
The only reason they would do such a thing was to prolong the firing pass, give them maximum time on target.
But that also gave Gelli maximum time on target as well. Was this captain crazy?
This is not how you fight. You speed by, throwing a volley. Then you go off and turn, assess your damage, reload, prepare for the next pass.
You don’t stand and fight gun barrel to gun barrel. That’s…crazy!
Unless the enemy captain knew something he didn’t. But what? What could it be?
Behind him, Admiral Egill spat out something. Gelli didn’t quite hear it. He turned.
“Sir?”
“That captain’s an idiot.”
“Yes, sir. Probably.”
“You should speed up, Gelli. Otherwise, he’s going to practically stop beside us!”
“If that’s his strategy, sir, speeding up won’t help. He’s got the delta-v on us. All he would have to do is reduce his decel, and we end up in the same situation - side by side. We can’t put on enough delta-v to prevent it.”
“Then slow down, for Star’s sake! Back away from this idiot!”
“Same thing, sir. He’s showing us that he’s got the accel to catch us, no matter which way we go. If we back away, he can still put himself where he wants. It just takes him a couple of minutes longer.”
“Why is he doing this? What in Stars name is his strategy?”
Gelli mused. “I think I may have it, sir. I think he has some weakness. He doesn’t want a prolonged battle that will allow us to see it. He wants to get it over with quickly - one quick, sustained broadside battle, like historical ocean-going ships. That gives him more time to fire at us before we figure out his problem.”
“So it’s in our best interest to prolong this, correct? So I say again, slow down. That gives us more time to examine his ship, find his weakness!”
“Aye, sir,” Gelli agreed. He turned to his Helm. “Decel us at 308G, Helm, and take a 45-degree vector up toward the ecliptic. Let’s try to stretch this out.”
Changing his focus to his Tactical Officer, Gelli continued. “Tac, go over that ship with a fine-tooth comb. Something’s not right about this. Let’s find it!”
“Sir! Destroyer! Well out in front of us! One of ours!”
“What? Where did they come from?”
“They were in amongst the debris field of that blasted scoutship! The ShipMind didn’t recognize them until now…they’re giving recognition signals, sir. It’s the Lance!”
“Outstanding. Tell them to come on fast, as fast as possible, and take station in front of us. It’s not much of a screen, but it’ll have to do.”
“Aye, sir. Order issued. Order acknowledged. They’re coming on fast. They’ll be here in nineteen minutes.”
Gelli caught Admiral Egill giving him a slight smile and knew exactly what the Admiral was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking.
Let that destroyer be cannon fodder for a while. Better them than us.
“Sir, as you predicted. The enemy battleship is vectoring upwards to meet us. Time to merge now eleven minutes.”
Well. That’s the best we can do. The destroyer won’t be in place before we make our first pass. I could dance around for another ten minutes if I had to, but I don’t see any point in it. Let’s see what this Human pig has to offer.
Chapter Thirty-Five
36 Ophiuchi C, Approaching Kamilaroi
Sitting in her command chair on the bridge of the Nimitz, Pauline stared at the holo. On the lower right side was a sidebar display, providing key statistics. One of them was time to target. It stood at 46 minutes. Just below it was their speed, relative to target. That number was 4,715 kps. That translated to 16,974,000 kph.
It was smoking hot fast for a planetary approach. But that was exactly Pauline’s plan. During their initial approach to Point Alpha, 12 AU above the star, she had reworked her plan several times. Each time, she liked it a little better. It still wasn’t a great plan; it wasn’t even a good plan. It probably wouldn’t work. In fact, it was almost certainly going to fail.
But at least I won’t be sitting on my thumbs out in the Kuiper. Phoebe can court-martial me later - if I’m still around. For now, I’m going to fight this SOB. Win, lose, or draw, I’m not letting him sit there in orbit and kill my people.
As soon as Bradbury had entered the system, Admiral Phoebe Walker had changed the codes for the system’s long-range sensor network. So Bradbury was half-blind. The radar and lidar sensors on his ships were now his only long-range sensors. And those were line-of-sight. When he was around the other side of the planet, he was blind to Pauline’s approach.
And Bradbury, not a professional military officer, had made a fundamental mistake: he had no scouts out. He had all his ships grouped together over New Geneva, bombarding the troops below.
“Amateur,” snorted Pauline. “Rookie mistake. But thank you.”
Pauline’s squadron had been on a long, coasting approach to Kamilaroi. The planet had rotated so that New Geneva was away from them, on the other side of the planet. And so was Bradbury’s fleet, overhead New Geneva dropping kinetics. As soon as he had disappeared from line of sight view, Pauline’s squadron had gone to 308G decel, trying to bleed off some of the incredible speed they had built up in the first part of their vector.
Pauline gritted her teeth against the incredible force. Her normal weight was a mere 110 pounds. Now, crushed into her chair, unable to even move her head, she weighed 880 pounds. There was a reason the chairs were bolted to the floor with six strong steel bolts.
God, I hope everyone was set. Otherwise there’s gonna be some broken bones. Well, actually, there will be anyway. There’s always someone who isn’t ready, or who doesn’t follow protocol. Sick bay will be full tonight…
…if there is a tonight…
Lord, please let this work. Please. If you care at all about good people, honest people. People who try to make life better for others, instead of only for themselves. Please.
The next minutes were absolute hell, for Pauline and every member of her crew. The duration of the crushing force began to erase all intelligent thought. There was only the elephant sitting on your chest. For many, there was the blessed blackness of no thought at all, as they passed out. No Human could perform any manual task. The entire ship was under the control of the ShipMind.
Hang in there, Pauline’s mind repeated over and over. Hang in there. It was a mantra, the only thing that kept her sane. Hang in there. The weight went on forever. It seemed like there had never been anything else; just a lifetime of crushing force, a universe trying to kill her.
Pauline’s mantra changed.
Stay conscious. Stay conscious. Stay conscious.
The next seconds seemed to go on forever. And then - the G-force began to come off. It was not instant - that could have caused too much havoc on the ship. It came off gradually, over a thirty second period, giving the crew time to adjust, to protect themselves against falling objects that might have shifted, to prepare to start moving around once more. As they reached 300G external, the internal force returned to 1G. The crew began to move, checking status, performing their final preparations for battle.
The ship shuddered as the ShipMind launched a full volley of missiles, all forward tubes and all aft tubes. Every ship in the squadron did the same; a total of fifty-four missiles. Surprisingly, they were not launched in the forward direction. They were launched rearward, away from the squadron’s direction of travel, boosting hard directly away from the forward vector at their maximum accel of 3,000G.
Any reasonable outside observer - at least, one with no great knowledge of orbital mechanics - would conclude that Pauline had gone nuts. But an observer with a good background in physics - and maybe a good computer - would realize Pauline’s squadron was still traveling too fast. Thus, the missiles she launched were also traveling too fast. Both Pauline and her missiles still had a lot of velocity to bleed off.
But the missiles could do it faster than she could. Once launched, they could decel at 3,000G. That was something she couldn’t do.
Pauline was rubbing her arms, trying to restore circulation after the ordeal of decel. She looked up at the holo. The picture it painted was as expected. As they decelerated, they would be curving around the planet. They were moving too fast to enter orbit; they would curve in close to the planet, and as they curved around, Bradbury’s fleet would appear right in front of them. He would immediately pick them up on radar and lidar. He would know he was under attack.
And Pauline was counting on him making another rookie mistake. She could feel it in her bones. He would screw up.
He’d better. If he doesn’t, we’re toast.
Directly in front of them, Bradbury’s ships came into view around the limb of the planet. Pauline’s squadron, still moving well above orbital velocity, was passing by the planet like gangbusters. All her tubes were reloaded from the previous launch; she had a full complement of missiles.
“Fire, fire, fire!” she called, a somewhat redundant command. The ShipMind had been fully briefed on her plan and knew what to do. But the Tactical Officer smashed down on his big red button anyway. It was a tradition, one that every commander followed. After all, something might happen to the ShipMind. It was too important to leave to chance.
