Just like their first wave had done.
“Tac,” Erin shouted, “send this out to the Agamemnon Group.” Erin frantically input instructions and transferred her tactical notes to the tac officer. “Look at Solution-14. Whaddaya think?”
The tac officer studied Erin’s notes for a mere second or two. “I don’t rightly know, Ma’am. It’s a guess, I guess.”
“That’s all we have time for. Is it a good guess?”
“Good as any,” Tac replied noncommittally.
The rest of the bridge crew looked worried. Erin was certain she looked more so. “What’s our current com differential to the farthest ship in the Agamemnon Group?”
“Fifty–six seconds, and climbing. It’s the Bonn.”
“Okay, the Bonn’s good. Have the group fire a full salvo of Helios with Solution-14 and Attack Pattern Alpha in seventy seconds. That’ll give the Bonn ten seconds to set it up.”
“Sent,” Tac replied, working furiously. “Ten seconds ain’t much time. Wish we could give ’em more warning.”
Erin knew Tac was thinking about the Hive. But when without, use the old ways of communicating, Erin concluded.
A Hive organism was a bilateral green blob of protoplasm. They almost looked humanoid, except for the fact that they looked more like lime gelatin with big, black eyes. Although they were mute, they were highly telepathic and had quickly become loyal allies to the humans. When they could be spared from the hive, they served on the bridges of human ships as instant messengers across near space. Their range, as far as humans knew, was easily out to thirty light-minutes. Intel figured they could communicate two or three times that distance, but simply did not want their human friends to learn too much about their capabilities. They were a communal species, and when not serving on isolated starships they exchanged information with fellow Hive members by swapping DNA from their gelatinous bodies, providing full and instantaneous updates of their knowledge base to each other. In fact, their language had no concept of the individual, and “I” was a term they found difficult to understand. As such, it was important for them to stay intimately in contact, and as a result they only served on human ships occasionally. Now sure would have been a nice time to have a matched set, though.
Erin drummed her fingers absently on her armrest again, waiting the full two minutes for the command to go out and the reply to come back.
Com thankfully provided the answer she was waiting for, “Bonn reported missiles away, Commodore.”
Good going, gentlemen, Erin thought. I knew you could pull it off.
Erin heard Tac quietly whispering to the com officer in the background. “Hope they got the solution right.”
“Yeah, Campbell cut that one mighty close,” Com agreed.
They probably think I can’t hear them. Erin stared at the deck and replied under her breath, “We’ll know in nine minutes, won’t we?” She glanced at her first officer, Hal Platner, who—off to her side—had been quietly observing the battle. He was a great tactician and a good sounding board for the young commodore. Hal was as ancient as she was young. Erin wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he was one of the original two thousand—the first group to travel to another star. He could have been one of the kids on board, or maybe part of the genetic bank. Heck, it was only three hundred years. I should ask him someday.
“And if our Helios miss?” Hal asked.
“Then we just wasted a dozen near-light-capable nukes.”
“If so, the Academy will deduct them from your salary, you know,” Hal teased.
Erin kept from laughing. At least he’s able to keep his sense of humor, she thought.
If they did indeed miss, Erin would need to consider a strategic withdrawal. That was a fancy name for “cut and run.” She was not sure that was in her vocabulary. “Well, as long as we’re around to sign the check, I’ll be as happy as can be.” That meant she was not considering giving up. It also told Hal what the operating conditions for the rest of the battle would be: no surrender, no giving ground.
Hal laughed. “True. How about this: if that happens—and we’re still around to talk about it, of course—I’ll take up a collection for ya with the crew.”
Erin raised her eyebrows silently in response. She turned back to Tac. “How long before Hostile-1 knows what we just did?”
“They’ll detect our missile trails two minutes after detonation occurs.”
That’s exactly what Erin hoped. She’d pieced it all together in her mind, but didn’t have time for the actual calcs. “Good,” Erin replied. “Then we’ll gain tactical surprise on ’em. We should be close to beam range by the time they realize their other group is even threatened. Then, we can engage them for almost ten minutes before they know their nasty little friends are dead.” That was the time Erin needed to turn the tide of battle in their favor. It all comes down to the next ten minutes ….
“Or, as they join their friends laughing as our missiles harmlessly pass them by,” Hal reminded her.
Hal interrupted her temporary daydreaming, forcing her to concentrate on what he just said. “Positive thinking, Hal, positive thinking,” Erin insisted. “You got to have faith. Sometimes cockroaches can be pretty predictable. Shine a light and watch ’em scurry. When they learn something works, they like to do it again and again. No imagination there. Brain’s aren’t big enough, I suspect,” she concluded pointing to her head.
“They were pretty unpredictable with that entry maneuver they just completed,” Hal corrected.
Erin sneered. They were lucky with that one. Although it was more likely they were extremely efficient. Erin hated being outclassed in battle. She hated being outclassed in anything. “Maybe because I was fighting in my same old predictable way, Hal. Never again. I just tossed out the Old Book.”
Captain Platner looked at her askance.
“What’s the matter, Hal, don’t trust me?”
“No, I do. Your … Spirit Guide—or whatever—has done pretty well for us so far.”
Erin smiled, remembering those old legends from childhood. “Yeah, my father believes in that stuff. He’s the traditionalist in the family, but I grew out of it pretty quick. But, who knows; if there is such a thing, let’s hope they ride with us a little longer,” Erin replied. “It all probably comes down to luck anyway.”
“Nah; if you relied on luck, you’d lose half the time. It’s something else in you.”
Erin looked up from her screens, “Are you trying to flatter me?”
Hal blushed, but did not reply.
“Hal, you always roll the dice in this game. Remember now, the Wasatti opened the battle with that wave of destroyers coming in just under light-speed, burning their beams into our exposed hulls. I’m betting the first group maneuvered us to this very spot to try the same thing with Hostile-2,” she said pointing to the tac screen. “See? They have a perfect intercept vector on our path, as long as Firing Solution-14 holds. That means they’ll hold course to about half-way to intersect. If so, our missiles will get to them first before they even know they’re there. That’s where the smart money is, Hal.”
“Ah, now you’re putting smart money on the table,” Hal noted. “Did your ancestors own a casino?”
“Most probably,” Erin said. “The old traditional ways, eh …?”
Hal laughed. He looked at the chronograph. “Well, whatever happens will happen in three minutes.”
Three minutes of nervous waiting. Twelve thousand human lives rested on the outcome of one decision. She sent out twelve powerful missiles on a shot in the dark—on a calculated whim. A thousand lives saved for each missile spent was the price she was hoping to pay; and if she was wrong ….
“And we’ll learn the outcome eight minutes after that,” Erin said. “How far, Tac?”
“Three minutes to beam range, Commodore. They’re beginning to turn our way. They are accelerating. The closing distance will now decrease rapidly, Ma’am. Beam range on the first hostile ship is now one
minute and forty–two seconds.”
The bugs were preparing to reveal their tactical surprise about now. Everything the Wasatti had done so far came down to this one moment. It was one big game; trade a pawn now for a chance at a queen later. Erin wondered who the better chess master was. It all came down to who saw further into the battle and whose force of will controlled the other. Erin wondered who was sitting in her place at their command chair. By their aggressiveness so far, it could very well be Kel himself. Whoever it was, he was doing pretty well. “What’s at their front?”
“Two destroyers—their last two—and a carrier is screened behind them. Next in line are eight cruisers, followed by four frigate-sized ships. I can’t keep track of how many torches surround the carrier. It’s a boat-load, though.”
“Hope we’ve been storing up a batch of alpha particles,” Erin thought out loud.
“Generators have been working at 120 percent,” Tac replied. “We got enough for six salvos. At the current closing speeds, that’s about all we’ll have time for.”
“Fine,” Erin said. “Com: send this out to all our ships. Ignore the carrier. The Argonaut will handle the two destroyers; everyone else concentrate on the torch ships. Small insect bites, that, but they add up fast. ’Lot of sticks to count coup.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Com replied.
A stony silence followed her last command. She was an unknown quantity on this ship and had yet to prove herself. Now, she committed them to an untried tactic. The Book said to attack their strength. Take out their big guns first and then mop up what was left. Instill uncertainty on the enemy. Project our strength on them and show them they have no strength left before they can bring it to bear. Erin could see the uncertainty in the eyes of her bridge crew; they were wondering what in the world she had in mind. Well, in for the penny; in for the pound. Whatever that meant, Erin thought.
“Then,” Erin continued, “instruct them that the Argonaut will fly right past the carrier and chew up the cruisers next, still using Attack Pattern Alpha. Begin hard-decel once we pass that carrier. Save all missiles for the cruiser battle. Once they’re dispatched, turn back on the carrier for point-blank fire. Leave the frigates be; they’re mostly for support anyway.”
“Gutsy move, Commodore,” Hal suggested.
“You got a better plan?” Erin asked, silently hoping he did.
Hal thought for a moment. He began to say something, but stopped short, considering otherwise. Hal could calculate the odds against those cruisers as well as she could. He pursed his lips in thought. “Not really,” he conceded. “I hope in ten minutes our Wasatti friends feel like Custer did.”
“Greasy Grass Creek, here we come!” Erin shouted. That was their most famous battle. It was the defining moment of her people. The Cheyenne and the Lakota had formed an unusual alliance against the wasishus, or whites, and their Crow pawns. It was a battle that showed the newly arrived interlopers that The People still had teeth. It showed them they would not bow down like dogs and obey their impudent commands. That was nearly half a thousand years ago, and here they were, doing it all over again.
Hal—looking puzzled—stared at Erin as if she had grown horns, “I thought that battle was called ‘Little Big Horn.’ ”
“Only by the losers of that battle,” Erin shot back. “The Cheyenne knew it as Greasy Grass Creek.”
“But the history books list it otherwise.”
“True,” Erin sighed. “But only because they won the overall war. Only the winners can write the history.”
They both remained silent, thinking about the battle they were in, and the distances rapidly closing.
“Status, Tac?”
“Beam range in fifteen seconds, Ma’am.”
Erin caught Hal watching her. She smiled evilly for show.
“I suddenly feel very sorry for old George Armstrong Custer, if he fought anyone the likes of you,” he said. Hal turned aside and took over the firing commands for his ship as Erin concentrated on the overall strategic battle. He opened the internal com. “All hands, prepare for battle. All port beam crews concentrate fire on the port destroyer; all starboard crews concentrate on the starboard destroyer. Set guns to continuous cycling solution. In five-four-three-two-one … commence fire!”
The Argonaut bucked as her concentrated alpha particles formed in the heart of the ship’s gunnery power plant and sped outward to their targets. Each gun was linked by computer so that a continuous stream of ultra-light alpha particles was thrown at the enemy ships at near-light speeds. With eight cannons to each forward quadrant, the cycling allowed each gun to cool as the next in line sent out its massive payload of destruction. The huge dreadnaught looked like a Goliath playing with children.
The enemy destroyer to the starboard side flared as the particle beams super-heated its hull to temperatures approaching the nuclear fires of a star. Within seconds, the shots—assisted by luck—blew the ship into a cloud of ionized gas and debris.
“Helm,” Captain Platner commanded, “come about to 354, Neg 45, yaw 90 degrees to starboard; stat. All batteries: fire on the remaining destroyer once you have a solution.”
The port batteries continued to fire on the smaller destroyer as the dreadnaught began to maneuver in the three dimensions of space. At her new position, all the forward cannons could bear down on the lone destroyer now streaking toward them, and as she continued to twist and rotate, the side and rear cannons would soon be able to follow suit. All targeting was now left up to the computers. At the speeds the ships were approaching, the closure distances would be the same as travelling from New York City to Boston on Old Earth in the blink of four-thousandths of a second. No human could ever react that fast.
As helm responded, the Argonaut heeled violently to the right, forcing the bridge crew to fight against the centripetal forces of the violent turn. Erin strained to keep her balance within her command chair, thankful for the relief the compensators provided. Without them, Erin realized, we’d have been reduced to a puddle of tissue in our chairs.
She studied her tac screen and saw one of the two enemy destroyers blink out. Missiles from the other ship lit the screen.
“Five missiles heading our way, Commodore; point-blank range,” Tac reported. “Contact in two minutes. EM deployed.”
“Add chaff to the defenses too,” Erin instructed.
The electro-magnetic pulses from the drones flying from the Argonaut were designed to confuse the seeker heads of the approaching missiles. Two enemy birds took the bait and swerved upward to chase the emitting drones, exploding on contact. Another missile encountered a wall of titanium particles thrown out in a cloud in front of Erin’s ship like shotgun pellets from a rifle. The internal firing mechanism of the missile mistook the particles as its target and also exploded prematurely, scattering the remaining chaff along the strong pressure wave of the blast. Two trailing Wasatti missiles continued through the hole now created in their defenses.
The tac officer dutifully reported, “Two missiles still on course. Contact in thirty–five seconds.”
“Point defenses, fire!” Platner shouted.
“Aye, Sir,” Tac replied. A cloud of metallic slugs shot out from hundreds of close-defense guns like machinegun fire, attempting to blindly strike the missiles before they closed on the ship. One missile exploded a mere fifty thousand feet away.
“Brace for impact!” Captain Platner yelled into the internal PA. Five seconds later, the ship vibrated like a bell and shook in place as the remaining missile slammed into the hull. “Damage assessment,” Platner commanded.
“Forward instrument section badly damaged,” the chief engineer replied. “Fires breaking out on two decks. Damage Control Parties are sealing off Sections 7 through 15.”
“How bad are the fires?” Platner asked.
“The one on B-Deck is contained; C-Deck is still out of control.”
“Vent the lower instrument room,” Hal instructed.
Erin was listening in o
n the conversation with one ear. She was not sure she could have issued that command so easily.
“But, Captain, we still have responders in there,” the engineer replied.
“Are they properly suited?”
“Aye—”
“Then do it! Flight control: launch the SAR shuttle. Get those people back.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” Flight Ops reported from her station on the hangar deck. “Search and Rescue away.”
Erin glanced at her tac screen and saw the small shuttle leave the hangar deck. It pitched and yawed to match the debris following the ship. For the next several minutes the shuttle would fight against the unwanted forward momentum it inherited from the Argonaut. It slowly crept toward the survivors scattered among the debris cloud. Erin knew the Wasatti would ignore the rescue shuttle and survivors as insignificant targets, not out of pity but because there were so many other juicy targets for them to consider. Besides, it would be too difficult for them to slow down in time for a proper intercept.
“All forward batteries are now engaged on the remaining destroyer, Ma’am,” Tac said. “They’re boring through her hull. Extensive damage to the destroyer, Commodore … she’s dead.”
Erin watched as the remaining destroyer blinked from her screen. Two threats were erased, with minimal damage to her ship in return. Further along their path, Erin saw the symbols for the massive bulk of the Wasatti carrier and an indistinct cloud of fighters surrounding it like wild electrons orbiting their mother nucleus. The remaining ships in her patched-together battle group began attacking the torch ships like angry gorillas swatting at insects.
“Ma’am …!” Tac shouted. “We’ve just detected a massive shockwave from Hostile-2. The missile attack worked! It looks like all ships were destroyed. Agamemnon Group is attempting to come around.”
The bridge crew shouted for joy.
Erin held her hand up for quiet. “People, we still have twelve ships, plus a carrier and a swarm of torch ships to contend with. Stay focused!”