Chapter 7
Commander Cutler wanted to tell Jimmy to sit down. The man was stalking the bridge of the U.S.S. Cincinnati like a raptor flying on high, searching for his prey. He could feel the pressure of his body against the harness as the Constellation class battleship maneuvered to avoid another incoming missile. He watched with a mixture of awe and concern as the youthful looking commander rode the pitching deck as if he was standing on firm ground. He was certainly in tune with the huge ship, almost becoming a part of it.
The bridge still had a new feel to it. The ship had only recently been refitted, and that included ripping the whole original bridge off and replacing it with a new armored capsule. Visually, it was indistinguishable to the untrained eye from the most recently completed North Carolina class ships. You had to know what you were looking at to tell the difference between consoles designed to operate a single muzzle ILC from the double unit controls on the NC class.
Raymond Cutler didn’t know how the man did it. If he were on a ship like this, he would certainly want to be in direct command. He even offered the command chair to his superior officer when he arrived on the bridge, the once again when the Deltans attacked. Both times he declined, saying this was his command and he both deserved it and was required to do his job.
He had to admire him. He was glancing between the holographic tactical and a series of threat monitors, keeping an eye on several aspects of the battle at one time. He had the visor down on his flight helmet, with the lens dialed down to almost clear, using it only to filter the important data seen on the tactical. There was information displayed there that you could only see with the correct filter in place. There was likely additional data being displayed specifically for Commander Argus that he could not see himself, due to the setting of his own filter.
They had caught the three fleeing destroyers flat footed. Just as Commander Argus had thought, there were more ships involved than the first heavy destroyer. The other three ships had been hidden on the rocky surface of a smaller planet in the Pyrus system. Why they had remained hidden until the more powerful battleship and heavy cruiser arrived was a mystery. Perhaps they knew the larger ships would be arriving and wanted to wait them out, hoping to remain hidden.
The Osiris, a Vanzandt class cruiser was doing its best to keep the three ships bracketed. The idea was to keep them from jumping too quickly into hyperwarp. They had a bare edge on the smaller UFSA ship as far as acceleration was concerned, but the ships still had to travel in a straight line to warp. The more violent maneuvering required to dodge her more powerful attacks was keeping them from making their getaway.
Commander Argus was only relaying the briefest orders to the two ships. Despite being in another part of the bridge most of the time instead of on the command deck, he spoke directly with Cutler through his helmet mike. He was running the battle while still letting the two ship commanders run their own ships, relying on their abilities rather than micromanaging the operation.
They were finally closing on the fleeing group. The two forward turrets fired in alternating bursts, occasionally connecting with one of the three destroyers. The fire control officers were managing their jobs perfectly, holding their fire when there was any danger they could hit the Osiris by mistake. It was time to draw their quarry into the trap.
Most ship commanders relied heavily on their main weapons, the large Ion Lockin Cannons set in the bows of their ships. The huge weapons drew their power directly from the engines and they were often fired right as combat broke out while there was still some distance between the attacking sides. That had led the Deltans to adapt their strategy of closing quickly with the American ships and taking them on in close quarters where the more mobile turrets could be brought to bear on the enemy ships. Often, the US ships would form a line much like the minutemen of their ancient revolutionary war, where half of the ships would fire their weapons first, then allow the second line ahead of them while the power for the weapons was regenerated by the engines. The second line would fire just as the first was ready to move forward again. Usually by that time, the enemy had closed ranks and other tactics would be brought into play.
Jimmy Argus had discarded the “all or nothing” Ion attack, and the idea had spread through the various task forces under the 3rd fleet’s flag. Just like the navies of old, the concept of broadside combat eventually boiled down to who could outgun who. The problem was both sides would take heavy damage that way. He reintroduced the notion of more dynamic combat.
The newer ships, like his former command, the USS America took on this idea by a huge increase in the maneuverability of the ships. Not only that, but they had auxiliary drives which could drive the ship in combat even if the main cannon had been fired at full power. They also had their main weapons arranged so that all could be brought to bear without exposing the ship to a full broadside.
Commander Argus had been a fighter pilot, and he thought of battles from that perspective. It took more power to use the turreted weapons to fire on the run, firing over and over. That was mainly because the fire to hit ratio was actually lower. Despite that, the fly and fight notion was taking the Deltan’s tactics right home to them. It flew in the face of conventional capitol ship tactics, but what counted was his win ratio.
On average, he lost fewer ships in combat than other commanders. That fact alone quieted most of his critics. In fact, the only thing most complained about was his age. Cutler knew for a fact the man was twenty-eight and had risen in the UFSA like the proverbial rocket. He had seen what the man could do first hand, and had an immense respect for him. Things like letting a ship’s commander run his own ship, the trust such actions implied. It made his men love him as a leader.
“Prepare to fire, thirty percent settings. Target the drive of the trailing ship.” By using less than half of the power available to the cannon, he would maintain most of his acceleration. He would no longer gain on the fleeing ships, but neither would they gain any ground on him.
“Weapons reading ready at thirty percent power sir. Auxiliary engines online to compensate.” Part of her refit had been to add the two new drives, flanking the primary one on her stern.
“Fire at will!”
“Yes sir. Ion fire away!”
The whole ship jolted with the recoil of the massive weapon. Using only partial power, the lights did not dip as ship wide power was drained. Blue white fire leapt from the bow of the ship, lancing directly for the hindmost destroyer. The beam intersected the ship right at the base of the immense curve of her drive cone. There was a burst of light, and the enemy visibly slowed.
“Direct hit sir!” The fire control officer reported.
“Good shot, Major.” Argus said. “Ships four and five, move to intercept. Exercise caution, they may be faking.” He said into the pickup extending from the base of his helmet.
“Playing possum?” Cutler was familiar with some of the more colorful, if unusual phrases that Argus liked to employ. It never occurred to him to question why a native of the distant colony world of Swingaround knew the defensive habits of an earthbound marsupial.
“They took a pretty good shot to their drive, and I think their main objective is escape, so I don’t think so, but they can still have a pretty good charge built up for their weapons. A cornered animal can still do terrible damage.”
“Yes Sir!” He watched the remaining ships dance, trying to avoid the withering attack from the Osiris. “If I’m seeing this right, I think that one is protecting the other.”
“I see it. Question is, are we seeing an actual defense of the other ship, or is it another ruse to direct our attention at the first.”
“I don’t think they have enough firepower to draw us into a trap.”
“Wounded animal again Ray. They didn’t start this pattern until the third dropped out.”
“I agree. Okay, he wants a shot, let’s give it to him.”
“I concur. Hold the ILC in reserve. Maybe they’ll think that was a full shot, plus we may be able to gain on them again with the O keeping them bottled up.”
“Fire control, switch the forward turrets to unified fire and target ship number two.”
“Yes sir, we have a firing solution ready.” It was a mark of good training that the fire control officer had anticipated the order.
“Too bad we’re not on the America.” Cutler said. “We’d just warp out in front of them and greet them properly.”
“Yep, that we would.” Jimmy was actually grinning.
The main complex of the starport in Ocean City was not large by most standards, but it was still the largest single building on the planet, and the best protected. Two K12 scoutships sat on the Tarmac, their running lights blinking and heat rising from their idling drives. To Janice Regul, the two ships looked like big juicy targets, but she understood their presence. They were there to be seen by the large mob of civilians crowding into the main building.
If worry was showing on her face, it would not be remarked upon now, she thought. There had not been outright panic at the word three more Deltan ships had been spotted in the system, but there had been many frayed nerves and a good deal of general upset. In fact, the prevailing attitude was direct anger that various holidays had been interrupted.
She wasn’t worried about the supposed battle raging overhead. She was not a spacer and not in tune with such matters. Instead, she was concerned about the strike force being held elsewhere in this building by the UFSA. She did not dare lodge a complaint as the local police establishment had about the detainment of the prisoners, but she at least was aware of it. Commander Argus had stopped just short of declaring martial law on the sparsely populated world, and the locals were being understandably vocal in their opposition.
It was not like she gave a damn personally about any one of the strike team. It was the danger they represented to her organization here. She was involved in far more than a simple spy post. She had…other things to worry about as well. Several of the detainees could, under the proper conditions, cause irreparable harm to her affairs. As far as the watch post she was responsible for, that was pretty much over with, as long as those commandos were held. Despite their training, it was too dangerous to continue in case any of them revealed something either inadvertently or though a breakdown in that training.
She wondered exactly what they had done with their weapons. They were not extremely heavily armed in the first place, but they were not planning to use their bare hands in the attack either. If the hidden weapons had been discovered, the police would shut up, knowing at last that it was truly a military matter and not a criminal one. The fact they kept up their protest up to the beginning of the new battle gave her some slight hope.
She scanned the crowd. For the most part, they were fairly calm. The local police were still being utilized for public crowd control and they were easily visible moving about the mass of people. There were easily five thousand people in the one main room alone.
One person seemed to stand out among the rest. The woman was not especially tall, nor distinctive looking except for the neat UFSA uniform she wore. More out of curiosity than anything else, Janice moved in to get a closer look at the woman. She was comparing something with a local police official. It wasn’t clear whether she had some official capacity in the situation, or was simply there, waiting with the rest of them. She took a close look at her. Porcelain complexion, dark hair, standard gray and black duty uniform. She walked past her, glancing briefly at her name badge.
Argus! The name clicked into place with her. She wasn’t the person that name matched up to in her memorized sighting file, but it was an uncommon enough name! She increased her pace, as if making toward the queue at a food vendor.
She passed the line of hungry vacationers and pulled her data pad out of her purse. She scrolled through the lists, finally reaching Argus. She glanced back through the intervening masses at the woman. Yes! That was she! The information was slightly out of date, indicating her to be a lieutenant colonel, when she was currently wearing the insignia of a full bird colonel. It was entirely likely she was helping to coordinate with the ground forces, despite her primary role as a military lawyer. With the exception of the little known officer commanding that elderly destroyer in orbit, she was the highest-ranking officer on the scene.
The pieces started to fall into place. Her recent spotting of Commander Bedarest and his wife jibbed nicely with this new sighting. Argus and Bedarest were known to be friends, and it was very likely the two of them were vacationing together. Argus was the target! Podondrin’s black balls! Damn that the attack hadn’t gone forward! Such a mark on her record would take her off of this Master’s forsaken ball of sand and water for good!
The question was, how could she salvage the situation now?
“Thirty seconds to the drop-out point.” The crewman reported.
Murky wasn’t completely comfortable piloting the Valkyrie. It was doubly so with three men he did not know serving as the crew. He was a competent pilot, but he had never been a fighter flyer. He was simply too tall. Most of the tiny little ships were simply too cramped for his rangy frame, and they simply did not modify expensive fighting ships to fit him.
His discomfiture wasn’t really physical, it was mental. There was a far greater degree of adjustability built into the ship, and it adjusted automatically to his greater stature. He actually had a feeling not unlike when he was a teen and borrowing his father’s Corvette for the first time. There was a sense of mortal fear about getting the thing scratched.
No, it wasn’t like that at all, really. He didn’t fear any of that sort of reprisal from his friend. It was still a feeing of responsibility being entrusted with the powerful fighter ship.
“Weapons status?” His screens switched as the computer complied right along with the human crewman.
“Full power available on all three ILC. Full power available on laser cannons and the particle accelerators are prepped to go online as soon as we drop from warp.”
“Prepare for deceleration on my mark.” There was a sudden lurch, as the ship slowed. The computer automatically decreased the flow of hyperspace charged particles through the ion drive, preparing for the change to a flow of normal charged ions as they emerged into normal space. The psychedelic mélange of light suddenly stretched, resolving itself into the stars and inky blackness of space.
I’d like to see the looks on their faces when they see me coming, he thought. Already, the two remaining ships were visible on his screens. At the touch of a switch, the battle scene resolved on his heads up display. With any luck, the two ships would still be concentrating on the pursuing cruiser and battleship. It was a pleasant surprise to see only two of them. His sensors hadn’t yet picked up the crippling of the third.
“Weapons ready, prepare to fire on my mark.” He throttled the engines back, keeping his thumb on a special key, keeping the engines fully idled up while only decreasing the thrust. At half the speed of light, they still had enough momentum to carry them through the enemy group without the engines.
“Fire all ILC!” He had full fire control, but, like Jimmy, he preferred to rely on his men to do their jobs.
The Sparrow fighter had been left behind at the starport. This freed up the third and most powerful of the Ion weapons on the small ship. There was an audible thrum and a sudden increase in cabin temperature as three bright blue beams of light shot out in front of them.
All three beams struck the first ship dead center. At first, it simply cut into the armored skin as though a hot knife through soft butter. The full power of the attack ripped the ship apart from the inside as the charged ion particles in the beam released their energy inside the hardened skin of the craft. The night sky was suddenly lit as the ship exploded in a shower of burning gas and debris.
“Yeeeeeee Haaaaaa!!! Eat that you sons a bitches!” He shouted. “Divert Ion W.R.A.M. power from the outboard drives. Give me maneuvering power as soon as it’s up.” Murky was elated. It wasn’t often he was able to participate in a real space battle.
“Holy shit!” Cutler wasn’t worried about the outburst in front of Commander Argus. Moderate shows of emotion were not only tolerated by the man, but also almost expected. “How much power can that ship generate?”
“Approximately five times what the Blackhawks can. She has the same output as a Hendrickson class corvette.” Jimmy explained.
“Hot holy damn.” Was all he could respond with.
“Osiris, close in for the kill.” He spoke into his mike.
The smaller ship was already on the attack run. With only the one ship to concentrate on, she was able to line up her own ILCs and fire. Just like the Cincinnati had before, she only used just enough power to cripple the fleeing ship. There was a final burst of light from her drive and the last ship slowed to a halt.
“Let’s take her by the numbers. Standard boarding party. Ray; let’s take her back to the first ship we disabled. There’s a firefight with the two scoutships, so we need to flex a bit of muscle. Same orders, standing boarding party. She’s all yours.”
“Well done sir. Now I see why you were grinning so big when I mentioned doing an end run around them.”
“I can’t do my job without the people under me doing theirs. Good job Ray.” He stuck his hand out and vigorously pumped the man’s hand.
“Damage report.” Cutler demanded.
“Minor small arms damage to both ships sir. Nothing a fresh coat of paint can’t take care of. Scoutship six is reporting a direct missile hit, but their damage teams are on it and they should be underway within three hours.”
“Very good. Communications, prepare the standard surrender demand once we’re in range. Power up the ILC, just so they know we mean business.”
“Murky,” Jimmy spoke into his mike again, “rendezvous with me here once we’re stationary and we’ll head for the surface to pick up the girls and the Sparrow. Time for us to head back to Earth.”
Cutler was slightly puffed, elated about the battle. Three ships, three kills with negligible damage. He though about poor old Colonel Corvus, sitting in the Aberdeen back in orbit, occupying a lowly fallback position. He must be simmering, having ships from the 3rd basically doing his job for him.
Dona walked out of the communication center feeling calmer than she had since the Valkyrie had vaulted her into the heavens above the ocean covered world. It never even occurred to her to be scared for herself, but rather she had worried about her daughters, Izzy and Jenny. She finally relaxed once Morrow’s message about them being in the protected command center reached her.
Most of the crowd was now filtering out of the building, taking their turns on various transports back to hotels, businesses and homes. More UFSA ships would be arriving soon to tow the crippled Deltan ships into orbit and to ferry the captured crews back into more protected territory. To most people, the crisis was over, though she doubted any of the vacationers would be able to properly relax any more during their stay.
The high walkway leading from the communication center had a good view of the tarmac below. A mobile crane was lifting the small fighter back onto the nose of the Valkyrie. It was likely easier for the two ships to rendezvous in orbit, but local officials had arranged for the service. She strained her eyes, and she could make out two figures in gray and black Flexarmor supervising the procedure.
“What kind of ship is that?” A woman asked. She had stopped right beside her, not making any noise as she approached due to the smooth, soft carpet.
“It’s a Blackhawk fighter-bomber.” She lied smoothly. She knew better than to talk openly about the capabilities of the crimson ship.
“I thought they were typically blue and black, like the name implies.”
“It must not be painted yet then.” Dona was still too preoccupied to enjoy small talk about Jimmy’s ship. This was a half-truth, since, in fact, the Valkyrie wasn’t painted for the most part. The real Blackhawks were skinned with a different kind of armor, which in its unpainted state was blue-black. That wasn’t common knowledge so it was a perfectly acceptable and plausible explanation. She looked at the woman. She had ‘dirty dishwater’ blonde hair and was wearing semi-casual business attire. Something was tickling the back of her mind and she realized they were alone on the causeway.
“I’m just going to go meet my husband.” She said as she started to turn away.
The woman stepped in front of her and opened her palm for her to see. Her hand concealed a tiny pistol, with her middle finger covering the firing stud. “Keep smiling honey. We’ll meet him soon enough.”
“This isn’t how I envisioned the end of our vacation.” Murky said as he watched the last of their luggage being loaded into the ship. The mobile crane was trundling away after reattaching the small fighter.
“Murphy’s law, Murk. It was fun enough while it lasted.”
“Yeah. I’m real sorry about it all, Jimmy. I mean…”
“Hey. You weren’t the one leading an attack on us. We’re fortunate you were…”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I just got this gut feeling like something else is wrong.”
“Ah, you’re just hungry. Let’s raid the cafeteria before we take off. We can make the time up pretty quickly since it’s pretty common knowledge we’re here now.”
“No, that’s not it. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like…fear.”
“Damn, the great Jimmy Argus is afraid. Don’t tell me, you’re dreaming about that Darth Vader type again?”
“Uh uh. No, that hasn’t happened for a long time.” He didn’t mention the horrible apparition from his recent nightmare. Why did he suddenly think of that? Was it just a horrible dream, or did it have something to do with the earlier vision. He pulled his glove back, exposing his comm-link. “Dona, Murky wants to get a bite to eat before we leave. Round up Susan and meet us at the cafeteria on the main concourse.” He waited a moment. The computer built into his link would automatically connect with hers when he spoke her name. Was she busy with somebody and couldn’t answer immediately? Even so, all she would have to do was tap the crystal on the face of her watch and that would acknowledge the message was received.
“Maybe she’s in the john?” Murky wondered.
“Hmmm.”
His link finally chirped. “Okay, James. Susan is still at the med center, so you can probably get to her quicker than I can. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He looked his friend in the eyes. Even Susan, who always insisted on proper names, called him Jimmy and not James. Nobody who knew him used his proper name, to the point he often wouldn’t even acknowledge it.
Murky nodded once, and they took
off running.
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