Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga) (37 page)

Commander Foster snapped, “Command to Plot. We already know Target Alpha’s present course intersects Rolla’s orbit around our star. Given the planet’s rotation, calculate the point on its surface where that course line will terminate at
Alpha’s present velocity.”

“Plot to Command, aye aye, Sir.”

There was a momentary pause, then a window opened in the Plot display. A shocked gasp ran around SysCon as a bright, pulsing star was overlaid on the planet’s biggest continent, above its capital city. “Termination point is right on top of Beaumont, Sir.”

Foster snarled, “I think you’re right, Lieutenant. We –”

The Plot operator interrupted. “Patrol Division One has fired, Sir!”

All eyes snapped back to the Plot. The traces of ten missiles’ gravitic drives could be seen spreading out from Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux’s patrol craft in a cone formation as they headed towards Target Alpha.

“Only ten?” The Prime Minister’s voice was puzzled. “Why so few missiles? And why are they fanning out like that?”

“He doesn’t know what Target Alpha will do, Sir,” Commodore O’Fallon explained. “They’re still seven million kilometers away. Given his velocity of 0.2 Cee, plus Alpha’s of 0.1 Cee in the opposite direction, plus his missiles’ acceleration potential, they’ll have a terminal closing velocity of almost half of light speed; but that still gives Alpha almost a minute to change course. The missiles are spreading out so that at least some of them should be able to home on her, no matter where she dodges. She may also shoot at them, of course. Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux will take his two ships closer while they watch to see what Alpha does,
then they’ll fire a follow-up salvo containing more missiles, spread to cover all her possible evasive maneuvers. At least some of them should nail her.”

Truman shook his head ruefully. “I’m afraid all this is above my head. Your profession is much more specialized than mine!”

“But we’d probably do a worse job of planetary administration, Sir,” O’Fallon offered with a grin. A murmur of amusement rose from the operators, but their eyes remained glued to the Plot.

The Plot operator’s voice rose sharply. “Alpha’s taking evasive action, Sir! Her drive’s gone to full power, which means she must have cut her gravitic shield.”

Sure enough, the icon representing Alpha diverged rapidly from those indicating Gamma, Delta and Epsilon, the latter continuing stolidly on their interception course with Rolla. Le Roux’s missiles turned to follow Alpha, ignoring the three smaller targets.

“Why aren’t his missiles going for the other three targets too?” the Defense Minister asked.

“We don’t know yet, Sir,” Colonel Houmayoun said quietly. “He’s the man on the spot. It’s not for us to criticize his decisions until we know what he has in mind. He hasn’t wasted time on signaling us yet, because he’s got a fight on his hands. We’ll find out in due course what he plans to do about those asteroids, if that’s what they are – we don’t know that for sure yet.”

O’Fallon added, “I’m sure he’s concerned about them, Sir, but if they
are
asteroids, his first volley won’t be properly set up to deal with them. You can’t destroy a large asteroid very easily. A missile warhead’s too small. You may end up breaking it into a lot of smaller pieces, which can still do a lot of damage. Instead of hitting them directly, you want to engineer a near-miss to deflect them, changing their course so they miss their target. I’m sure he’s thinking about that, and if he confirms what they are – I’m sure he was doing that, we just haven’t heard from him yet – he’ll have another plan to deal with them.”

“I hope you’re right!”

“I think I am, Sir. He’s a very good officer – that’s why we gave him command of our first patrol craft division. He won’t let us down.”

As the
Commodore spoke, both patrol craft fired again. Thirty missiles – their full remaining warload – spread out to envelop Alpha as they charged towards their target.

Alpha’s track suddenly dove downwards, even as the first salvo of missiles closed in on her. The icons representing the four missiles closest to her disappeared from the Plot before they could explode. Two others were close enough to target her, and detonated. Steve knew their cones of bomb-pumped laser beams had probably hit the pirates, but the Plot couldn’t show such details –
only what sensors could pick up. The remaining four missiles in the first salvo lost target lock, wavered for a moment, then self-destructed.

Commander Foster grunted. “She’s obviously got four laser cannon, and a fire control system sophisticated enough to aim them accurately within a hundred thousand clicks or so. She must have rolled onto her spine to unmask all her cannon,
then fired them at those four missiles. She got them before they came within range. I hope the other two did some damage.”

As they watched, Alpha changed course again, dodging desperately to avoid the incoming second salvo – but they had been fired from much closer range, and it was obvious that at least half of them would get close enough to hit her. Once again, the nearest four missiles vanished from the plot about a hundred thousand kilometers before interception, followed by two more; but eleven others came close enough to fire their bomb-pumped laser warheads. The radar returns forwarded to the Plot from Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux’s patrol craft and the second drone showed a sudden speckle of echoes around Alpha.

“They’ve hit her!” Commodore O’Fallon exclaimed. “That’s wreckage blasted loose from her hull!” A rumble of savage agreement rose from those around him.

Alpha stayed on course for a few moments,
then angled further away from the planet. Meanwhile, the two patrol craft shot past her. They were moving at close to a quarter of the speed of light by now, while Alpha was making one-tenth Cee in almost the opposite direction, so they rapidly drew away from each other.

Commander Foster swore in frustration. “It’ll take them over an hour to kill their velocity and come around to chase her.” He cast his eyes over the Plot. “Sir, with your permission, I’ll have the Fleet destroyer on the far side of the planet alter course towards Alpha. She may be able to get close enough to launch missiles on a ballistic trajectory. They might reach her before she can get to the system boundary and hyper-jump away.”

Commodore O’Fallon didn’t hesitate. “Do it. I want these bastards captured or dead!”

There was a bustle as Foster prepared orders for the destroyer and the Communications console transmitted them. They would not see any movement from the destroyer in the Plot for some time, thanks to light speed delay. They could only
hope that she’d be able to respond in time to intercept Alpha.

While the orders were being issued, the Prime Minister asked Steve, “Why didn’t those hits destroy Alpha?”

Steve shook his head in frustration. “Sir, if our information from Finarga is correct, Constandt’s ship is a million-ton freighter – a very similar design to Target Bravo, in fact. Her vital zones occupy less than five per cent of her hull volume. The rest is taken up by cargo holds, most of which are probably empty right now. If the missiles’ bomb-pumped laser beams hit the holds, they’d blow holes in their bulkheads and vent any internal atmosphere to space, but not necessarily damage the ship badly enough to stop or destroy her. They’d have to hit her gravitic drive, or reactor, or capacitor ring to shut her down. Those are very small targets within her very large hull. If she’d been hit by a full salvo of missiles from a destroyer, the odds are much better that some of their beams would have hit those systems; but patrol craft carry only twenty missiles each. That makes it harder to get in a kill shot on a big ship like that, particularly at such high closing speeds while she’s maneuvering to dodge them. You saw how less than half the missiles actually hit her – and that was pretty good shooting under the circumstances.”

“I see. You’re saying the missiles would have done more damage to a warship?”

“Probably, Sir. A warship has much less empty space and many more critical systems. Of course, she has much better defenses as well.”

“Hmm. Space combat’s clearly a lot more complicated than I’d assumed.”

“It is, Sir. However, don’t forget that Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux has already achieved what we call a ‘mission kill’. Alpha probably intended to fire missiles at Rolla’s orbital installations as she passed the planet, including the Elevator terminal in which we’re now standing. She’s been forced to take evasive action, so now she can’t get close enough to do that. That’s a pretty good start, right there.”

“Yes, but what about those asteroids?”

Before Steve could answer, the Communications console operator called, “Communications to Command. Message received from
Mount Atlas
. The second drone took pictures of Targets Gamma, Delta and Epsilon as she flew over them. They’re three big asteroids, approximately the shape of flattened cylinders, estimated at over twenty thousand tons each.
Mount Atlas
has ordered
Mount Garnley’
s division to take care of the asteroids while she comes around to pursue Target Alpha.” As he read out the gist of the message, he forwarded the original to the Watch Commander’s console.

A rush of comment arose from the operators, all staring at the Plot, where the three asteroids were still shown to be moving down their original course. Steve turned to the Prime Minister. “The asteroids aren’t being tracked by radar right now,” he explained, “but because their course and velocity are known, the Plot’s updating their predicted position. Senior Lieutenant Grunion will use that to close in on them, and send her own drone to confirm their precise position and mark them for her missiles.”

“Can she stop them in time?” The politician’s voice was agonized.

“I think so, Sir. We were able to pick up Target Alpha early enough that she’ll have enough time to deflect them. Look there.” He pointed to the Plot display, where the icons marking the two rearmost patrol craft were suddenly joined by a third, then a fourth. “That’s her drone, heading for the asteroids – and there goes the second drone from the other ship.”

The communications operator called, “Communications to Command. Message from
Mount Garnley
. Senior Lieutenant Grunion is braking to shed excess velocity, and has launched both drones to intercept Targets Gamma, Delta and Epsilon. The drones will fly in formation with the asteroids to verify their position and provide targeting information. Meanwhile,
Mount Garnley
will calculate the distance and direction from the targets at which warheads should detonate to deflect them.”

“Can
bomb-pumped lasers deflect asteroids?” the Prime Minister asked. “I thought lasers punched holes in things.”

“They do, Sir,” Steve replied with a grin, “but
bomb-pumped lasers are generated by thermonuclear warheads. If those explode a few hundred meters from a target, instead of ten thousand kilometers away, they still have all the blast effect of a normal nuke. They can be programmed to close in to that distance. As a matter of fact, Fran – I mean, Senior Lieutenant Grunion will almost certainly program them to aim their laser cones away from the asteroids, because she won’t want to risk breaking chunks off them that might hit the planet.”

“I see.”

Commodore O’Fallon spoke up from the Watch Commander’s console. “Speaking of having time to deflect them, Lieutenant, I understand we owe that to you. You uploaded the signatures of Constandt de Bouff’s ships to the database, allowing the battle computer to identify the gravitic drive signatures of Targets Alpha and Bravo early enough for us to do something about them.”

“
You don’t owe that to me at all, Sir. I’d never have known about the problem without Petty Officer Second Class Aysel.” He motioned to the young Rolla NCO, still seated at a training console among her classmates, to stand up. She did so, blushing, as he continued, “She’s the one who noticed that they hadn’t been uploaded. I wasn’t aware of that until she asked me about it earlier this morning. We owe our early warning to her alertness, Sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” With a grin on his face, the Commodore turned to face her. “Well done, Petty Officer
First
Class Aysel. Thank you very much.” He strode over to shake her hand.

Her blush deepened as her classmates and the operators broke into applause. She had to wait for the noise to die down before she could get out, “B-but, Sir, I don’t have enough time in grade as an
E-5 to be eligible for promotion yet.”

“By my authority as Commanding Officer of Rolla’s System Patrol Service, time-in-grade requirements are waived in this instance. I’ll take care of the paperwork. Get yourself new insignia of rank before you go off duty. If anybody argues, refer them to me personally.”

“Aye aye, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” She was still red in the face, but now it was the flush of excitement rather than the red of embarrassment, coupled with a huge smile. Several of her classmates reached across their consoles to clap her on the back and shake her hand.

O’Fallon turned back to the Plot. “Plot, when would Target Bravo have reached the mining ships?”

“Sir, she’d have got there twenty minutes ago,” the console operator replied.

“Then we should know what happened there within twenty to thirty minutes.”