Admiral Absen stared aghast at Conquest’s holotank showing the poor results of the SLAM salvo. “The motherships maneuvered?”
“Yes, at about the thirty second mark,” Lieutenant Commander Fletcher replied from the Sensors station. “Much earlier than in the first attack.”
“Good thing the SLAM IIs worked like they were supposed to,” Absen said, glancing over at Rick Johnstone. “Thanks to you.” The man had spent the last month laboriously testing the pseudo-AIs and their protocols, repairing serious hidden flaws in their psychology.
Johnstone shrugged. “Just doing my job, sir.”
Commander Ford broke in from Weapons, his voice conveying his usual contrariness. “The IIs got hits because they were closer, not because they were smarter. They struck their targets in less than thirty seconds. Sure wish one had hit that flagship. Probably would have if the targeting protocols weren’t so damned tight.”
“The SLAMs IIs wouldn’t have reacted so fast if they hadn’t been smarter and autonomous, either,” Johnstone replied in a tone that signaled the start of another argument with Ford. “We wouldn’t have gotten any hits if I hadn’t –”
Absen cut them off. He knew they were bickering partially from shock and fear at the size of the Scourge force. “We’ve taken out almost a third of the enemy in one salvo. I wish it had been more, but it’s not, so let’s get to work. Captain Scoggins, are we synchronized with the rest of Task Force Alpha?”
“Yes, sir. How are you going to play it?”
Absen didn’t have to think. He’d already chosen among his engagement options: TacDrive the task force all the way into each fight and come out disordered, or halt just outside enemy weapons range to regroup his ships that would inevitably scatter from their optimal combat positions. “We stop short and form up. This task force is designed to fight as an integrated unit and should be able to take down a swarm on its own.”
“Unless these swarms are smarter, just like their cores turned out to be,” Ford muttered.
“They’re still limited by physics, and we’re far more prepared than we were the last time,” Absen replied. “Captain Scoggins, nearest swarm. Get us there.”
“Yes, sir. Okuda, initiate the pulse.”
“Aye, ma’am,” the bald helmsman said. “Course and duration set. Pulse in three, two, one, mark.”
The familiar wrench of TacDrive caused Absen to hold his head as still as possible to minimize the disruption to his inner ear. No plague, no nano, no medical treatment had ever been able to get rid of his susceptibility to motion sickness.
Conquest’s sister ship Constitution and the fourteen heavy cruisers that completed TF Alpha followed within milliseconds. Their pulses were set fractionally shorter in order to eliminate the unlikely chance of a collision.
The warships arrived in a long, strung-out line aimed along their common course, about ten minutes from the enemy’s weapons range at full fusion drive speed. As soon as the sensors unmasked from their armor and the holotank came up, Absen was able to see his ships hurrying to take their positions.
Captain Sherrie Huen’s Constitution was the first to come alongside at a mere twenty kilometers distance, a stone’s throw in space with ships this size. Seven heavy cruisers then surrounded each of the larger ships in two circles slightly refused – that is, set back – to allow the dreadnoughts free play of their forward concentration of weaponry, and to cover their more vulnerable sterns.
“Now we’ll see how good your system really is, Ford,” Absen said, referring to the Constitution’s point defense weapons suite the officer had designed and its control crew he’d trained. “Sorry I didn’t let you stay there.” That decision had nothing to do with Ford’s competence and everything to do with his personality, which would not mesh well with the buttoned-down Huen’s.
“They’ll do fine,” Commander Ford replied in a voice that seemed almost certain. “Fine,” he repeated more firmly.
Absen shifted his gaze back to the holotank, this time staring at the swarm in front of them. Fully engaged with the Jericho Line, he saw flashes of fusion mines and the flare of Meme fusors among the million Scourge small craft.
“How are the Meme suicide gunboats doing?” he asked.
Conquest’s disembodied voice replied in Michelle’s dulcet tones, “Initial assessment shows effectiveness above predictions. These Scourges seem approximately ten percent more aggressive than the ones we encountered before, which in this case means they are attacking in a suboptimal manner, not remaining spread enough. The fusors are taking down more than expected.”
Absen grunted. “That’s something, anyway. How soon until they pass the Line?”
“The leading elements are already doing so.”
“Ford, start stinging them with our particle beams. Michelle, give the order to Huen and the rest to open fire with main batteries as they come into range. Let’s see if we can keep them stirred up and angry.”
“Gladly, sir,” Ford replied to the first order. Immediately Conquest’s trio of massive particle accelerators sent streams of charged protons at near lightspeed into the densest masses of Scourge ships. Individual targeting was impossible at this range, but with so many enemy small craft, each beam picked dozens of them out of the sky with every shot.
Of course, dozens among a million was insignificant...except in its effect on the swarm. The long-range weapons, accompanied by the heavy main lasers of the other dreadnought and the cruisers, stirred the enemy to attack immediately.
Exactly as Absen hoped.
Therefore, instead of remaining in a dense and disciplined mass, a possibly irresistible charge supported by wings of the Scourge gunships and fighters, they came on like drunken hornets in strings and clumps, great gaps showing through as they approached at different rates.
“They’re the barbarians and we’re the Romans,” Absen said conversationally as the enemy approached. “They’ll throw themselves at us and die on our locked shields.”
“Right,” Ford muttered as he worked his console.
“Signal retrograde,” Absen called when the range closed to under one hundred thousand kilometers. “Not too fast. Keep them coming.”
As one, the ships of the task force flipped end for end and lit their fusion engines, slowing the rate of the Scourges’ closing and lengthening the time both sides had to fire at each other. Because most of the enemy’s combat power was embodied in its assault craft full of Scourgelings and Soldiers, doing this favored the weapon-heavy EarthFleet task force.
As soon as they’d built up sufficient velocity, Absen ordered his force to face the enemy again, though its rearward course remained the same. “Resume fire.”
“Seven minutes to close engagement,” Michelle said.
“Signal everyone weapons free and give me the all-ships channel.”
“Channel open.”
“All hands, all ships, this is Admiral Absen. We’re about to engage the first swarm. No matter what happens, it is imperative that each cruiser maintain position relative to her assigned dreadnought unless rendered combat ineffective. Fight hard, rely on your shipmates, do your jobs and God willing we’ll win through. Good luck, and good hunting.” Absen made a throat-cutting motion to end the transmission.
“Admiral, are we going to launch the drones?” Captain Scoggins asked.
“Thank you, Melissa. Give the signal and deploy them as per doctrine.”
In the holotank Absen saw Warsprite combat drones stream out of launch tubes in the rear of the two dreadnoughts. He knew that deep within the ships, Aerospace controllers lay in VR coffins, each linked with several craft that would act together.
The drones took up positions to the rear of the two squadrons. Because of the crystal-teardrop design of the EarthFleet ships, more than three quarters of their firepower faced forward. This maximized combat effectiveness, but created inevitable weak spots from their six o’clock positions. The Warsprites would cover this vulnerability.
Absen suppressed his urge to give tactical orders as he was used to. He’d personally commanded Conquest for so long that letting his flag captain fight the ship didn’t come naturally. Instead, he kept his eyes on the overall situation.
The Jericho Line was doing its job thinning out the enemy, but having no specific effect on any one swarm. The unexpected numbers of the Scourges meant that the Line was being quickly torn to pieces, and Absen dismissed it from his mind. Like any minefield, doing its work expended it.
He shifted his attention to his own flag officer holoscreen, installed at his order so he could keep track of fleet operations. Putting on a headset, he spoke quietly to Michelle. “Give me a view all the way out to the orbit of Venus.” Once the display had expanded, he examined the deployment of his forces.
Task Force Bravo was in position near Earth. He could see several ships racing to join it, abandoning other assigned tasks around the solar system in order to assemble at the homeworld. As the Scourge would take at least eighteen hours to get there, Absen knew the defending forces would be ready.
Task Force Charlie, composed of ten Meme Monitors, was accelerating in leisurely fashion along a curving chord cutting inward across the orbit of Venus. A rough mental calculation showed that they would reach a position to intercept the majority of the enemy in plenty of time as they headed for Earth, so he didn’t bother to send them any orders. SystemLord knew his role in the defense, and despite Absen’s slowly dying hatred of all things Meme, he’d found the blobbo leader kept his word.
Until he doesn’t, a little voice whispered in his mental ear. Rae said the Meme are utterly pragmatic. If SystemLord decides we’re a lost cause, he’ll run, so my job is to maintain his belief we can win. That’s why his forces are out here and not near Earth: to make sure he’s fully committed before the endgame becomes clear.
Absen turned his attention to the main holotank, noting that the Line weapons and the long-range fire had knocked the enemy swarm they faced down to eighty-three percent.
“One minute,” Michelle said in Absen’s ear.
“Signal to execute the second extension maneuver,” Absen replied.
In good order, the task force flipped end for end once more and blasted at flank speed directly away from the enemy for a precise period of time before reversing again. When the maneuver was completed and the task force, now speeding backward even faster, once more pointed toward the enemy, Michelle said, “Two minutes now. Closing velocity has been halved. Main weapons have resumed firing.”
Slowly the countdown continued. Absen disliked this pulling back, for he considered every minute valuable to Earth’s defense, but the first battle was the most important, for it would give them critical data on friendly and enemy performance in actual combat, allowing him to adjust tactics for the next.
“Entering point defense range,” Ford said.
“Hold fire, Mister Ford,” Captain Scoggins replied. “Let’s see how Constitution does, since she’s a bit closer to the enemy.”
This was all according to Absen’s plan, an interdependent ballet of steps designed to maximize the effectiveness of the task force’s firepower. Allowing the optimized dreadnought to engage first might allow Ford to adjust Conquest’s tactics and techniques.
On the holotank, Constitution’s enormous main laser ceased fire just long enough for a pulse of blazing red lines, so thick in the display that one couldn’t be separated from another, to reach out and strike the enemy.
Absen watched the enemy percentage until it updated, falling from eighty-three to eighty-one.
“Yes!” Ford cried. “Ninety thousand shots, about twenty thousand hits. Twelve second recycle time...”
“Approximately ten percent per minute for Constitution alone,” Michelle murmured in Absen’s ear. “It seems we may win handily.”
“Never tempt fate that way,” Absen said as six seconds later the enemy gunboats and fighters, emerging from behind their screen of low-value assault craft, opened fire. Their plasma torpedoes and lasers packed only slightly more power than Fleet point defense lasers, but the difference came in accuracy. While Earth’s ships had to engage small, maneuvering targets, the Scourge aimed at much larger ships that, at this range, couldn’t dodge.
Rather than EarthFleet’s two shots striking for every nine fired, the enemy hit percentage approached eighty percent. Therefore, their return blow was about four times as heavy, and it concentrated entirely on Constitution.
As the energy weapons struck, Absen could see Captain Huen had already begun to spin her ship, a cheap way to spread their impact, though it cost something in accuracy.
Captain Scoggins ordered the same maneuver, and the admiral could feel the rumble as thrusters strove to roll Conquest around her axis like a spinning arrowhead.
In the holotank, energy weapon impacts blazed all along Constitution’s nose, and her large laser flickered out. “Heavy damage to her main weapons array,” Fletcher said from Sensors. “About four thousand point defense lasers down as well. Armor appears to be holding.”
“Tell the cruisers to support more closely,” Absen snapped. “And message Huen to flip and fall back if she has to. If the enemy wants to concentrate on her, then that’s exactly what we want to prevent. Make them run a gauntlet or change tactics.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnstone said, closing his eyes.
“You may fire when ready, Mister Ford,” Captain Scoggins said.
The two dreadnoughts’ point defense weapons lanced out almost as one this time, now joined by the heavy cruisers, and more than two hundred thousand lasers speared thirty thousand more of the enemy.
“Fortunately they’re strung out and uncoordinated,” Michelle said through Absen’s headset. “We are killing them as fast as they approach.”
“Except for the gunboats and fighters. Centurions are smart enough to maintain their coordination and distance. Look.” Absen pointed unnecessarily at the holotank, which showed a loose formation of enemy elite craft holding optimum range, letting masses and mobs of assault craft absorb EarthFleet’s fire.
“I see.”
“Can we target those gunboats?” Scoggins asked Ford.
“Already doing it with our particle beams, but they’re staying at the edge of point defense range. If we fire at them instead of the assault craft, we get a far lot lower hit percentage and risk the Scourgelings and Soldiers landing on our skin.”
Scoggins grunted unhappily. “Keep hammering our closest targets, then.”
Constitution flipped end for end once more and lit her main engines, withdrawing further behind her screen of cruisers. Absen could see her drones move up to interdict as well.
“Get our squadron in closer,” Scoggins ordered. “They’re pressing after Huen, so we don’t have to worry as much –”
Just then, the holotank fuzzed and Conquest shuddered with a sound like the grinding crash of a train wreck, a noise that lasted several seconds.
“What was that?” Scoggins snapped.
“We got hit,” COB Timmons replied, consulting his board, which now showed a blaze of red across one of Conquest’s six facets. “They missed the main array, but they took out about seven thousand lasers, most everything on panel number five, along with a hundred meters depth of armor.”
“They’re fighting smart,” Scoggins snarled. “Unlike last time, they’re concentrating their fire. That means there’s no reason to keep our ships spread out. Admiral, if you please, we need to close with those gunboats. They outrange our point defense by about twenty percent and they’re staying out of our optimal effectiveness envelope.”
“That’s going to mean assault landings on us,” Absen replied.
“Not many, if we’re blasting straight for them. And we can use the drones for skin coverage.”
“Fine. Pass to all ships: close to minimum safe distance, forming a wall of battle like we practiced. Prepare for flank acceleration toward the enemy.”
Absen waited, his hands gripping the armrests of his crash chair, and then gave the hated order. “Everyone cocoon up. We’re going VR.”
“Aye, sir,” Johnstone said, passing the command through his CyberComm systems.
On all the ships’ bridges and fire control centers, everyone sat back into their crash chairs and allowed the devices to enfold them. Induction fields and hard links connected each organic brain into a network of shared VR space, more than doubling efficiency while incidentally making the bodies of those within more likely to survive.
Linking this way did nothing for the helmsmen of the ships or the fire controllers, as they already worked mostly within the VR synthesis, but for everyone else, slowing the universe around them allowed more ability to make and implement good decisions.
In VR space, Absen found himself free of his chair. Inertia had no power over his virtual presence as he stood to pace around the holotank, knowing his body was held securely within his cocoon.
Within the display he saw his sixteen ships form a disc, flat side toward the enemy: a wall of battle. Salvoes of point defense fire stemmed the flood of tens of thousands of enemy small craft, but every few seconds the Scourge fighters, and especially the plasma-torpedo-equipped gunships, would also vomit forth a coordinated deluge, each time striking a different target.
Three times those blasts had slammed into Constitution, tearing great gouges from her armor and vaporizing swaths of point defense lasers. Absen knew that right now her damage control bots were frantically repairing and replacing the modules, but that process was slow compared to the frenetic pace of combat.
Conquest had been hit twice and was making her own repairs far faster, as her AI control and suite of maintenance drones significantly exceeded her sister ship’s efficiency.
Two blasts had impacted cruisers, in each case stripping half the smaller ships’ weaponry from them, but their armor held. It would take repeated strikes to actually penetrate the thick layers of ferrocrystal sandwiched with neutronium and other exotic materials.
“Task force to accelerate at flank speed on my mark,” Absen said as he observed them all in position. “Mark.”
As one, the tails of sixteen ships lit with sun-bright fusion flares, and the range began to fall rapidly as they surged forward. The holotank showed the enemy gunboats and fighters reversing course to counter, their own tiny drives working frantically, but the maneuver had been sudden and violent, evidently catching them by surprise. Inertia would favor the big ships for a while.
Had the enemy been Meme, this would never have worked, but Scourge conventional drive technology was on a rough par with EarthFleet’s, perhaps not even as advanced, and for a brief time the range fell to optimum for the point defense arrays.
“Pass to all ships: shift targeting to the enemy gunboats,” Absen ordered. “Fire at will, maximum rate.”
Now, rather than the more efficient salvoes by ship, volleys that allowed each fire direction center to assess its hits and retarget weapons to enemy effectives, all ships lit up with thousands of laser lances as individual controllers aimed groups of weapons as they wished, firing as fast as power cycles allowed.
The Scourge assault craft, no longer dying in droves as the EarthFleet lasers fired past them at the gunboats, now arrowed in toward the big ships, turning to fire engines in retro mode, trying to slow their headlong rush enough to crash-land on the surface of their enemies. However, the dreadnoughts and cruisers accelerated so powerfully toward them that most either missed entirely or were smashed to bits against the armored skins.
Unfortunately, some of these assault boats crashed down directly atop point defense lasers, optical and radar sensors, heat flanges and other necessary fittings, further reducing the effectiveness of the EarthFleet ships. And, some of the Scourgelings and Soldiers within survived to begin rampaging across the skins, destroying more weapons.
“Get the drones working to clean off our hull,” Scoggins barked. “Pass the word to Brigadier ben Tauros to please ready his Marines for exo.” She couched this order as a request, as technically Bull outranked her, but as the captain of the ship, her word was law aboard, subject only to Admiral Absen’s review.