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Day 77/2546
Chenko stormed into Masterson’s office and waved the data tablet in his hand. “Have you seen this report?” he asked in an agitated voice.
Masterson leaned back in his chair and calmly said, “Yes I have Sergei. If you’re going to browbeat me, you might as well sit down while you’re doing it.”
Chenko muttered something that Masterson didn’t catch as he followed the General’s suggestion. When he was seated, he took a deep breath and said in a calmer voice, “The Council’s not going to be happy to hear about the damage the Union raid did to Makassar. I’m not happy about it. I’m telling you, Frank, if this kind of thing keeps up, Trojan’s credibility as the overall Field Commander is going to plunge, and the Council just might demand his replacement.”
Masterson waved Chenko’s comment aside with his hand. “No, they’re not, Sergei. You and I both know that Majestic predicted this might happen and that it’s the price we have to pay to counter their best strategy for a quick end to this war. I think enough members of the Council understand that too. General Trojan is just implementing Majestic’s recommendations, and that means that our fleet will continue to stay in Earth orbit indefinitely.”
“But the delay in building up Makassar...” asked Chenko. He let the sentence remain unfinished.
Masterson shrugged. “Nothing we can do about that delay, but at least we’re close to being able to prevent damage from future raids. Now that we know the X-ray laser concept works with the successful test of the prototype, we can plan on deploying a network of them in Makassar orbit. If the SSU send another raiding force, they’ll get a big surprise.”
Chenko’s expression lost a lot of its anger. “I’d love to see that, but wouldn’t it be easier to deploy those satellites in Earth orbit and send the fleet to defend Makassar?”
Masterson couldn’t help smiling. Chenko might be the Naval Chief of Staff, but at heart he was still a ship commander looking for the opportunity to fight a space battle, even if only vicariously.
“Well, apparently a majority of the Council members are nervous about fusion bombs going off over their heads, even if the explosions are thousands of kilometers away. Keeping the ships here instead seems to give them a warm and fuzzy feeling.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but dammit, now that the Union knows we have our fleet here, they’re unlikely to go head to head with it. I think they’ll just keep raiding Makassar instead. It’s a damned shame that my boys and girls won’t get some glorious fleet to fleet action any time soon.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Sergei. I’m sure that your people will get to fight a fleet battle eventually. I don’t see the rebels giving up without one, do you?”
Chenko was actually smiling when he said, “No, I don’t, thank God.”
Day 084/2546
Murphy stood at the edge of the construction site and nodded with satisfaction. Work on the new office tower complex on Midgard had begun. The next ship from Earth was due to arrive in a couple of weeks. That meant that his advance team could travel to Earth and go through the motions of raising the billions of credits that the new Midgard-chartered company would supposedly need to pay for equipment bought on Earth and eventually shipped to the Midgard star system for installation on Midgard’s moon. He hoped that the freighter crew wouldn’t think it suspicious that their Midgard passengers would have a LOT of luggage. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to transport the first 10 billion credits worth of FED currency that the advance team would need in order to make it appear that the capital had been raised from Earth investors. He was still debating whether or not to bribe the freighter crew to ‘mind their own business’. Midgard did not produce any kind of dangerous substance that had to be smuggled, so any bribe to the crew had to include a believable cover story about something else that couldn’t be transported openly, but that was a mere detail. By the time the advance team had done their job on Earth, with the first equipment orders placed and the team back on Midgard, the office complex would be almost finished.
Within six to nine months, the mining, refining, manufacturing and robotic equipment needed to start operations on the moon would be delivered, along with the precursor machinery that would be used to build the very specialized machinery necessary to create the computer components for the Oracle computer, which would be installed in the cavernous underground levels of the new tower complex. When that was in place, the people who would run the new Site X bureaucracy would be brought to Midgard via another piece of equipment paid for by the FED currency, namely a small freighter that would be registered on Earth. It would be used to carry more cash from Sparta to Midgard and then on to Earth without raising any suspicions, as well as to carry people between Midgard and Sparta. Everything had been well planned out, and the only thing that bothered him was that he might not be able to return to Sparta for at least a year. But Cate knew that might happen, and both of them had accepted the necessity for it.
In the meantime, he would continue playing the part of the visionary Earth investor and entrepreneur (under his assumed alias of course) who was bringing much needed capital investment to the Midgard star system. The planetary government, what there was of it, was delighted with the prospect of new jobs and more importantly of more money flowing into the local economy. Regulation was minimal, and no one in the government was anxious to ask too many questions. The mining licenses for the entire moon were well worth the price, even including the necessary bribes, and the total cost was actually less than the amount budgeted. He had to admit that living in the most luxurious penthouse this planet had to offer was a nice perk too. If only Cate were here to enjoy it with him. With a sigh, he turned away and headed back to his penthouse apartment.
Day 144/2546
“This plan is madness,” said Lee as he and Janicot finished their inspection of the modified Jutland. It had been a quick inspection. Once the slightly smaller than normal Phase I Oracle computer had been installed, there wasn’t much room for a human to move around.
As the two officers walked down the ramp, Janicot spoke in a voice whose calmness hid the annoyance he felt towards Commodore Lee. “I agree, but that’s exactly why it should work. With Jutland ready to go, we can conduct field trials, and if they go as planned, the mission will proceed in ten days’ time.”
Lee shook his head. “We’re throwing away our entire fleet on Drake’s hunch, and to make matters worse, he’s going to be in charge of the operation! If we have to do this, then let’s at least put someone reliable in command, Isoruku for example.”
Janicot decided to let his growing annoyance out into the open. “In spite of your opinion of Commander Drake, it’s MY opinion that he IS reliable. He came up with the idea, which I remind you was vetted by our Oracle computer, and he has the most enthusiasm for it. One thing I’ve learned is that you don’t put someone in command of an operation who doesn’t believe in it. Isoruku is lukewarm to the idea. I want someone who will take risks to make the operation a success, not someone who will look for an excuse to abort the mission.” The conversation stopped while they climbed into the Admiral’s spacious groundcar and settled down. “Now that we have some privacy, I may as well get another thing off my chest,” said Janicot. “I’m very disappointed in you, Commodore Lee, for not volunteering to lead this mission yourself. As our only operational flag officer, you’re expected to lead by example. Now, the fact is that if you had volunteered, I very likely would have turned it down, but only because you don’t believe in the mission. Still, the gesture would have done a lot to restore my flagging opinion of your suitability for flag rank. If our fleet is destroyed in the upcoming battle, it’ll be a while before we’ll once again have enough ships to warrant being under the command of a Commodore. Therefore I’m giving you a heads up that you’ll be reassigned to a desk job if you want to keep your current rank. As an alternative to that, I’m willing to give you another ship command when one becomes available. Your performance as a CO was satisfactory, but if you take that option, you’ll have to give up your star. You don’t need to give me your answer now. There’s plenty of time to think it over.” Janicot took notice of Lee’s barely controlled facial expression. The Commodore was on the verge of venting his anger. Janicot hoped he would. Insubordination would be the perfect excuse to demote him and give him some useless assignment where his negativity wouldn’t affect the war effort, but much to Janicot’s disappointment, Lee restrained himself. He had had such high hopes for Lee, but the man just wasn’t up to the role of a one-star flag officer. Of all his ship commanders, Palmgren seemed to have the most flag officer potential. Janicot briefly considered Drake for the role but dismissed the thought. Putting him in temporary command of the Queen’s Gambit Operation was enough of gamble. All Drake had to do was get the fleet to the outskirts of the Sol system and let the Oracle flagship take over from there, and it would take more than that for Janicot to seriously consider Drake for flag rank.
Day 240/2546
Romanov reread the dispatch from General Trojan that had just been delivered by courier. The text message was so terse that Romanov wondered if it had been written by Majestic instead of by the General.
Majestic convinced that Earth will be attacked by Union fleet soon. In the event of a lopsided victory by your forces do NOT, repeat do NOT obey any orders from NCoS or Fed Council to attack any Union planet directly. Bring your fleet here first no matter what. CINC1FAF
Romanov couldn’t understand why the General would deem it necessary to send a courier with a message like that. Clearly Majestic had calculated a high probability of a Union attack soon, but a lopsided Federation victory seemed unlikely. In his opinion, what was far more likely was either an indecisive skirmish with little or no damage to either side if the Union fleet was clearly outnumbered and decided to retreat, OR a pitched battle between more or less evenly matched fleets with heavy casualties on both sides. Unfortunately, it would take months to send a request for and receive clarification. If the attack happened soon, the clarification would come back too late. He put the data tablet down, and just as he was reaching for the bottle of vodka to refill his glass, the Battle Stations klaxon sounded.
“Romanov to Bridge! What’s happening?” With the voice-activated com channel to the Bridge now open, Romanov could hear the rising volume of background chatter as Conqueror stirred itself and prepared for battle.
“HQ has advised us that long range radars have detected 16 ships in formation beyond the hyper-zone boundary, Commodore. I’ve ordered the ship to Battle Stations on my own initiative. Commander Singh has been advised and is on her way to the Bridge now, Sir.”
Romanov recognized the voice of one of his flagship’s more junior Lieutenants who obviously was in temporary command when the alert from HQ arrived. “You did the right thing, Lieutenant. You can now tell the rest of the fleet to go to Battle Stations too if they haven’t already done so. I’ll be back on the Flag Bridge shortly. Romanov out.” As he sprinted out of his quarters and down the corridor, he said a silent thank you to the designers who had had the foresight to add a Flag Bridge to the new class of 400-meter diameter Light Cruisers AND put it relatively close to the quarters that a flag officer would use. He also wished that the first of the 500-meter Heavy Cruisers was finished, but it was still three weeks from being commissioned. He would just have to make do with the 24 ships his fleet had now. Twenty-four versus sixteen was three to two odds in his favor. If the Union fleet commander was foolish enough to commit to a no-holds barred battle, then maybe Majestic’s prediction of a lopsided victory actually would occur, but he wasn’t going to assume anything. He would fight this battle as if the odds were even and the outcome uncertain.
The Flag Bridge was also buzzing with activity and noise. He walked over and stood beside his Command Station in order to evaluate the situation that the large 3-D tactical display was showing. 1st Fleet was still in formation in a low orbit around Earth as per Majestic’s recommendation. The Union fleet, which was now designated as Alpha1, was still beyond the hyper-zone boundary on a vector that was more or less parallel to the boundary and travelling at a moderate velocity of only 55 kps. He nodded to himself. His opposite number was doing exactly what he would have done. Stay beyond the hyper-zone at a speed that was slow enough that the fleet could accelerate into the hyper-zone if they wanted to fight, or change course away from Earth relatively quickly in order to jump away if he decided that the odds were too great. Even if 1st Fleet fired now, Alpha1 would still have plenty of time for its Commander to evaluate the situation and take the appropriate action.
He checked the display’s sidebar data. Some of his ships still weren’t at Battle Stations, and he made a mental note to speak to those Commanders. The fleet had apparently gotten soft after months of monotonous patrolling in Earth orbit. Checking the chronometer, he saw that it was just over one minute since the alert warning. Alpha1’s commander should have received enough data by now to know that he or she was facing long odds, but the enemy fleet was still coasting at 55 kps. Romanov shook his head. Unless those 16 ships were far more capable than expected, he wouldn’t order them into battle against a fleet 50% larger if he were in command, but perhaps the Union Commander didn’t have a choice. His or her orders might not leave any room for discretion.
“Come on, Alpha1...what’re you gonna do?” he muttered to himself. A ping told him that his fleet was finally at Battle Stations. He checked the main display again. 1st Fleet was still orbiting around Earth, and unless he did something, and soon, it would fly around to the side of the planet that was opposite to where Alpha1 was. Their velocity was low enough that the ships could kill all forward momentum and essentially hover in place, but that wasn’t necessarily the best choice. If Alpha1 was just part of a bigger attack, with another group of ships about to emerge from hyper-space somewhere else, and 1st Fleet brought its forward velocity to zero, Romanov would be risking having his fleet out of position to interdict a second or maybe even a third group of ships.
With two minutes now since the alert, Romanov was beginning to wonder why his Union counterpart was taking so long to make up his or her mind. The display pinged again, and he saw from the sidebar data that Alpha1 was now accelerating towards Earth. My God, he’s actually going to fight us!
“Do we have any data on the size of those ships yet?” he asked no one in particular.
“Tracking says preliminary data suggests those ships are the same size as the ones we saw briefly the last time they were here, Sir. Five are 400 meters, the rest 300 meters.”
It gave him some comfort that he wasn’t facing 16 battleships, but now the decision to attack made even less sense. “Any chance that they haven’t seen all our ships?” he asked.
“Highly unlikely, Sir. Our own satellites beyond the hyper-zone boundary are picking up radar reflections from all our ships. If we can see ours, then they should be able to as well.”
With that information confirming his own suspicions, it was time for him to make a decision. “Okay, order our ships to decelerate to zero forward velocity. We’ll hold this position and altitude.” With the order acknowledged, he checked the display data again. If his ships fired now, Alpha1 would have enough time to veer off and get back beyond the boundary and jump away before his missiles could reach it. He had to wait until they were deep enough inside the hyper-zone that they couldn’t get away unscathed, and the slower their initial velocity, the deeper they had to be before he could be sure of catching them. They, on the other hand, could fire at his ships at any time, and there was no way for 1st Fleet to avoid that fire. But unlike earlier in the war, an exchange of missiles was not going to result in mutual destruction. All of his ships had at least two of the new laser-powered, terminal missile defense batteries. Much more accurate, with far more effective range than the old railgun batteries, there was no way in hell that 16 light cruisers could fire enough missiles to get past the collective missile defenses of 24 ships, unless they concentrated all their missile fire on one target at a time. And if Alpha1 did that, it would take a lot of missile volleys to knock out all of his ships.
The display now showed that 1st Fleet was hovering in place, relative to Earth and to the enemy fleet. It should take about 25 seconds for the reflected radar energy to reach Alpha1 and reveal that fact to the enemy commander. Shooting at stationary targets would be so much easier. If he were commanding that fleet, he would order it to fire just about...now. The display pinged and a new icon appeared with the number 210 inside it.
“Alpha1’s fired two one zero missiles!” said the ship’s Tactical Officer over the loudspeaker from the Bridge. A quick check of the sidebar data showed that all of the laser batteries of his ships were operational and ready to fire as soon as their individual lidars were tracking an incoming missile.
“Everyone into pressure suits,” said Romanov as he reached down below his Command Chair to get his. After putting it on but leaving the helmet where he could reach it quickly, he sat down and buckled himself in. One of the smaller screens at his station had been continuously recalculating whether Alpha1 was deep enough into the zone. Not yet, but it was getting close. As he waited, he took note that there were now three enemy missile barrages, each with 210 missiles. The image of over 600 missiles coming straight for his ships was slightly unnerving considering that there would be 210 more missiles every 15-20 seconds, but Romanov had been in simulations that looked a lot worse than this. He checked a secondary screen showing what kind of missiles his ships were ready to launch. All of them had Mark 1 fission warheads. Romanov suspected that the 400-meter ships had neutron armor because Alpha1’s acceleration was low enough to match the performance of the one enemy ship that was confirmed to have neutron armor in that battle months ago. A hit by a Mark 1 warhead might not cripple the bigger ships, but they would pretty much destroy the smaller, unarmored ships.
Romanov knew that the armored ships carried 20 missile tubes each, and the unarmored cruisers only carried 10 each. Knocking out the five larger ships quickly would reduce enemy fire power by 47.6%. He opened the channel that automatically connected him to all 24 ship commanders.
“This is Romanov. The enemy fleet will soon be too deep within the zone to evade our first missile volley, but I want them even further committed. We’ll hold our fire until we can hit them with at least two volleys, regardless of what they do. I want our first volley to concentrate on the five larger ships. Your tactical officers will have to co-ordinate your fire so that each target gets the same number of missiles fired at it. Tie your fire control to my Command Station. We have enough Mark 1s to fire a second volley, but I want to hold those in reserve. Therefore do not reload your missile tubes until I give the order. Make sure your missile defense batteries are on automatic fire. That’s all for now. Romanov out.”
Romanov checked the chronometer for elapsed time since Alpha1 began accelerating. Almost ten minutes now. The range between the fleets had started out at just over 5.5 million kilometers. 1st Fleet was not moving at all, and Alpha1 was still only moving at 82.3 kps. Her first missile volley, on the other hand, was now moving at over 2,106 kps due to its 350G acceleration, but it would still take a total of almost 30 minutes flight time to reach 1st Fleet. His own first volley would take almost as long to reach the enemy fleet, which was why he was going to wait another ten minutes. At that point, it would take Alpha1 almost 65 minutes to decelerate to zero velocity and then re-accelerate back out to get beyond the zone boundary. That was enough time to fire one volley, evaluate the results of the interceptions, and fire another volley with enough time left to catch the fleeing ships if they tried to get away. It would also give his ships 10 minutes or so to try to intercept the enemy missiles with their laser batteries.
Romanov realized that he was holding his breath and made a conscious effort to breathe normally. He had to stay calm. It would be all too easy to let the adrenaline rush make him impulsively do something stupid, just for the sake of taking action. At least Chief of Staff Chenko wasn’t second guessing him from the ground. A quick check confirmed the fact that Romanov’s transmission to the other commanders had also been transmitted to HQ. Chenko would have heard it and understood what Romanov was planning. What Romanov couldn’t figure out was why the enemy fleet commander was willing to risk his 16 ship fleet against Romanov’s 24 ship fleet. Surely the Union leadership wouldn’t be so stupid as to order an attack regardless of the odds, and yet that’s exactly what it looked like to him.
The next 10 minutes actually seemed to go fast. By now there were 12 separate volleys. The fact that all 16 Union ships had stopped firing at the same time told Romanov that they were holding some missiles back, since the larger ships clearly had the capability to carry and fire more missiles than their smaller cousins. When the additional 10 minutes had passed, Romanov touched the Enable Fleet Missile Launch virtual button on one of his smaller displays. The green icon representing 1st Fleet on the tactical display vomited 360 missiles simultaneously. They were aiming for the point where Alpha1 would be by the time the missiles got there, if it continued on its same trajectory. If Alpha1 tried to veer off, the missiles would be redirected accordingly.
Romanov waited the necessary length of time for the enemy commander to see the missile launch via reflected radar energy. Alpha1 did not veer off. Even after another minute had passed, the enemy fleet was still accelerating towards Earth. That fleet commander had to be mad, or he was supremely confident that his missiles would devastate 1st Fleet. For the last nine minutes before the enemy’s first volley hit, Romanov wondered if he had made a huge mistake. His ships had a total of 70 laser batteries versus 210 missiles in each volley. That meant that each battery had to burn three missiles. By the end of the missiles’ roughly 30 minute flight time, they would have a velocity in excess of 6,205 kps. That wasn’t as much of a problem as it seemed, because the missiles were heading straight for his ships, and therefore from the point of view of the laser battery’s low-powered lidar tracking laser, the targets weren’t moving sideways at all. When the missiles were one light second away, each ship would turn on its own radar to pinpoint the missiles’ locations. That would give his lidars a starting point for their own search. As soon as a missile warhead was tracked by lidar, that battery’s high-powered laser would fire at exactly the same point. The system had been tested extensively and been proven successful.
Romanov jumped in surprise when Conqueror’s Tactical Officer announced that the ship’s lasers were firing. He quickly saw that the other ships of the fleet were doing the same. The number inside the angry red icon representing the first enemy volley started to drop, and quickly too. It reached zero when there was still almost 20 seconds left before missile impact. Romanov heard the Flag Bridge crew mutter expressions of relief. Over the internal com channel to the ship’s Bridge, he heard the Bridge crew react with more enthusiasm. The first volley had been stopped. His fleet’s lasers were already firing on the second volley. Romanov queried his station’s tactical computer and stared flabbergasted at the result. The first two volleys had been equally distributed among all his ships in terms of targets, which was the worst possible thing for the enemy commander to have done. If every volley had been concentrated on just one target, not all of the fleet’s laser batteries would have been able to track missiles that were moving across their firing arcs instead of straight at them. It was a huge blunder by the opposing commander. The next six incoming volleys met the same fate, although the distance left when the last missile in each volley was destroyed was getting shorter. That was worrisome, but something else was bothering Romanov, and he suddenly realized what it was. None of the 1680 missiles destroyed so far had exploded with the kind of energy indicative of atomic warheads. If those missiles had been armed with fission warheads, at least a few of them should have been hit in just the right way to trigger a premature detonation of the fission device. The fact that none had done so strongly suggested that these incoming missiles were armed with either conventional HE warheads or perhaps even the KE type.
“Ten seconds to our missile interceptions!” said the excited Tactical Officer. Romanov shifted his attention to the main display which now zoomed in on the enemy fleet. The scale became small enough that he could see Alpha1 fire counter-missiles. His first volley of 360 missiles started to suffer interceptions, and the total number of remaining missiles dropped quickly. However, by the time the interception countdown chronometer hit zero, there were still 251 missiles left operational, and each one had a Mark 1 fission warhead. The simultaneous release of that much energy momentarily overwhelmed Conqueror’s sensors.
When the figurative dust cleared, the enemy fleet was down to 11 ships. The other five had been blown to pieces. Romanov quickly sent orders to reload all missile tubes with standard HE warhead missiles. When all tubes on all ships were ready to fire and had been allocated targets, Romanov touched the fire button. With plenty of standard missiles to spare, he ordered another volley set up and fired as soon as possible. Thirty-four seconds later, Alpha1 finally began to veer off. The remaining missile volleys fired from Alpha1 were all killed by laser fire before they reach his ships.
The tactical display was now very simple to evaluate. He had two missile volleys clawing their way up out of Earth’s gravity well towards an enemy fleet that was now desperately trying to convert its forward downward momentum into a new sideways vector that at the very least would make missile interception more difficult. Romanov was willing to bet that the sideways vector would gradually morph into an escape vector if Alpha1 had enough time to accomplish that task. He didn’t think it would succeed. He was right.
When his second volley reached the enemy fleet, all 11 of them stopped accelerating. They had obviously taken damage to their maneuvering engines. Two of them actually seemed to break up. The third volley finished off the others. All 11 ships were now a cloud of large pieces of metal coasting in formation. The volume of the cheers from the Bridge over the loudspeakers was deafening. Even the Flag Bridge crew were shouting with joy now.
Romanov was stunned by the magnitude of his victory. None of his ships had suffered any damage whatsoever, and 16 enemy cruisers had been shot to pieces. When the shouting died down, he realized that Admiral Chenko was trying to reach him.
“Romanov here, Admiral. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He could hear celebratory shouts in the background from the HQ Operations Center personnel too.
“That’s okay, Commodore. Quite understandable under the circumstances. I want to be the first to congratulate you on a brilliant victory!” said Chenko.
“Thank you, Sir. I’m not sure how brilliant it was though. Sixteen versus twenty-four are pretty awful odds. They didn’t really have much of a chance.”
“Maybe not, but you managed to defeat them without suffering any casualties yourself. That’s worth some kudos. You still have half your Mark 1 load, don’t you?”
“Yessir.” Romanov had a hunch where this conversation was going.
“Very good. As soon as you’ve replenished your consumables, I’m going to send 1st Fleet back to Hadley with orders for General Trojan to attack Sparta as soon as possible. I think the enemy has rolled the dice on an all-or-nothing strategy, and if we hit them fast, we can catch them defenseless and maybe put an end to this Godawful war once and for all!”
Romanov thought fast. “Do you think it might be a good idea to detach a few ships to remain here in case the enemy tries again, Sir?”
“I’ll take it under consideration, and I’ll let you know before your re-provisioning is complete.”
“Understood, Sir. I would also recommend that we try to recover or at least send people on board the larger pieces of wreckage. We may be able to gain some valuable intel.”
“Hmm. Stand by while I see if that’s doable.” Romanov heard Chenko ask someone else about that possibility. A few seconds later Chenko came back on the line. “No can do, Commodore. Those large pieces are not only flying past Earth pretty fast, but they’re also apparently tumbling pretty fast too. The engineers here don’t think we’d be able to gain access to them. Anything else you want to ask or bring up before I sign off?”
“No, Sir. Thank you for your call, Admiral.”
“Tell your people that I said they did well. Chenko out.”
* * * *
Drake stood patiently beside the Com Tech and tried not to let the claustrophobic atmosphere of the freighter’s small and now crowded Bridge get to him. Eventually the Com Tech leaned back and took off his headphones.
“Jutland has stopped transmitting, Sir. The last signal was the code for executing the self-destruct.”
Drake looked around and saw that the others were showing the same relief that he was feeling. At this distance from Earth, they couldn’t be absolutely certain, but it seemed as though the battle had gone about as well as could be expected. Drake looked over to the freighter’s CO.
“You can take us home now, Jack.”
That generated a round of congratulations between Drake and the other cruiser commanders who had joined him on the Bridge to monitor the battle. Drake’s usual cautious optimism gradually surrendered to infectious enthusiasm. They had pulled it off and not just the final battle near Earth. The raid on Makassar had turned out well too. Thank God he had taken the flagship Oracle’s recommendation to send only the armored cruisers down to within missile range of Makassar’s industrial targets. Those fusion bomb pumped x-ray laser satellites orbiting Makassar had come as a nasty surprise, but the thin layer of collapsed matter protecting those five cruisers had absorbed most of the laser energy, and damage had been minimal. He shuddered at the thought of what those energy beams would have done to an unarmored ship. The existence of that type of weapon was a valuable piece of intel for the Union. It was clear to him at least that the FEDs were pursuing a different R&D strategy. P2 back on Sparta would have to take that new tech into consideration on future calculations.
