Against All Enemies (6 page)

Garcia nodded gruffly, his attention focused on the situation displays.

Paul took an instant to breath in deeply and calm his thoughts, then checked the
Michaelson
's weapons status on his display. No change.
We're not getting ready to fight. But we are getting ready to deal with anything else that might happen
.

Maneuvering alerts sounded as the
Michaelson
's thrusters fired, pushing the ship around to a new heading. Paul's body slammed against the straps as the acceleration forces jerked around everything inside the ship. He watched the projected course track which had sprung to life, seeing it for the series of compromises it was. Momentum and mass were the problem. Going too fast to get into position would make it impossible to stop in time and stay in position. Just how much slower to go was a matter of judgment. The captain's judgment. Paul knew that as the
Michaelson
came around the other ships would be quickly figuring out exactly where she was going and how fast she'd get there.

But what good blocking only one ship's fire would do . . .

A woman's voice came on the communications circuit, its light British accent sounding unnaturally calm under the circumstances. "All ships, this is HMS
Lord Nelson
. We are maneuvering as well. All ships are requested to remain clear of us."

Captain Hayes' demand came on the heels of the
Nelson
's captain's announcement. "Where's the
Nelson
going, Combat?"

I don't know yet
! Paul thought desperately. He knew the captain knew they needed to see the
Nelson
start moving to even guess on her course, but he also knew the captain didn't want to hear that now. "Working on it, sir," he replied.

But at that instant another message arrived on a secure communications circuit. "USS
Michaelson
, this is HMS
Lord Nelson
. We estimate you are placing yourselves between
Gilgamesh
and its targets. We will position ourselves to block the fire of
Saladin
. Is this agreeable? Over."

Hayes' response held the first note of joy Paul had detected this night. "Absolutely, Captain Vitali.
Michaelson
welcomes the actions of
Lord Nelson
. Over."

"Lord Nelson was never one to hesitate in the face of a need for action, Captain Hayes. The Royal Navy can scarcely do otherwise than live up to his reputation. Out."

"Thank God for the Brits," Garcia muttered.

The
Michaelson
's maneuvering systems fired again, pitching the ship around and jerking her crew against their restraints. Paul shook his head and blinked to clear his vision, then looked back at his display. "
Gilgamesh
is maneuvering."

Garcia studied the display, then grunted. "He's trying to sidestep us. Captain, the
Gilgamesh
—"

"I've got it," Hayes replied, his voice cool now. "They're complicating our move to block their line of fire to the asteroid, but that's all." Thrusters fired again, augmented by the
Michaelson
's main drive. Paul rolled with the forces pulling at him, grateful that he was experienced enough at space operations that his stomach could handle the erratic shifts and sudden returns to zero gravity.

Combat systems emitted several short, sharp cracking sounds to warn of shots from the
Gilgamesh
coming close to the
Michaelson
as the SASAL ship tried to keep pounding targets on the asteroid. The
Gilgamesh
's energy weapons didn't make any actual sound as they blazed past too close for comfort through the vacuum of space, but system designers had realized that the fastest and most effective way of alerting a crew to incoming fire was to simply simulate sounds that might be made by such weapons if they could be heard. Paul, trying not to duck at the sounds, realized the idea worked very well indeed.

He checked the read-outs on his display and felt himself sweating. The shots had been far too close, less than five kilometers away, a distance the
Michaelson
covered in seconds at her current velocity.
If those SASAL ships keep trying to shoot past us, they run a real risk of accidentally hitting us, even if it's only a graze on our hull
. The thought brought a surge of anticipation.
If they hit us, we can shoot back. That'll stop this
. Caught up in the battle, Paul momentarily forgot his chances of dying in a battle with the SASAL ships. Then he remembered and felt the heaviness inside him again.

Another alarm sounded, the high-pitched squeal of the collision alarm. "Warning," the
Michaelson
's maneuvering systems stated. "Current track will bring the ship inside asteroid approach limits. Closest point of approach on current track will be—"

The warning cut off abruptly, telling Paul that the captain had ordered it to be shut off. Despite all the activity, his mind conjured up a brief image of a court-martial in progress and a trial counsel pointing to a diagram with a point labeled "Captain shuts off maneuvering system warning."
No. We're not going to hit it. We're just getting too damned close for comfort. That's all
.

Another set of symbols and a probability cone sprang onto Paul's display. The
Nelson
was moving. "Captain, this is Combat. Confirm the Brits are underway and heading to get between the
Saladin
and the asteroid."

The captain's response was once again drowned out, this time by another incoming transmission. "All ships, this is the
Alsace
. We are maneuvering. Request all ships remain clear." Then, on the heels of that announcement. "This is the
Heavenly Mountain
. We are maneuvering."

Paul felt his guts tightening. All those ships swinging close by each other and close to the giant menace of the asteroid. Which way were the Franco-Germans and the Northern Chinese heading? Out away from the mess or –

The collision alarm stuttered into life and
Michaelson
's warning systems spoke again. "Warning. Multiple ships maneuvering along projected course close to current position. Unable to calculate closest points of approach—"

The alarm and warning shut off, doubtless again in response to orders from the captain. Paul didn't blame him. He felt a sort of stunned fascination as he gazed at the maneuvering display, watching the overlapping course projections cluttering nearby space, the firing tracks from the SASAL ships, the looming presence of the asteroid, and the assessments of what was happening on the asteroid's surface.
What a goat rope. What a gawdawful goat rope. This can't get any
—

"Watch the
Smith
!" someone yelled. Paul half-turned to snarl at the offender for yelling, then halted, his eyes back on the wreck of the freighter. Against the much faster moving actions of the warships, the freighter's slow, staggering path had been easy to overlook. But its venting gases had carried the wreck further down toward the asteroid and not far enough to the side. The
Jedidiah Smith
was fairly large as human spacecraft went, but its mass was nothing more than roadkill in the path of the asteroid's majestic tumble. Paul watched, horrified, as the freighter fell slowly down to meet the equally gradual movement of the millions of tons of asteroid, until the freighter merged with the rock for a moment before breaking into scores of fragments hurled outward from the point of collision.

"Captain, this is Combat. The
Smith
has collided with the rock. We have multiple fragments from the
Smith
being projected outward. Some are closing on our intended track." On the already cluttered display, the paths of the wreckage cut straight across the areas several of the warships were approaching. Paul jerked his head up in momentary shock as the overhead lights dimmed, then he fixed his eyes on his display to check weapons status. The
Michaelson
was finally powering up her main batteries and close-in defenses.
To deal with the wreckage. Hitting any pieces heading for us will divert them . . . quite likely toward another ship's path
. And if somehow by some miracle someone on the
Smith
had survived the firing from the
Gilgamesh
and the collision with the asteroid, then the defensive fire from the other ships would surely kill them.

The maneuvering drives fired again, then several more times, and the main drive chimed in with a quick, massive slam that checked the
Michaelson
's movement and left her drifting unsteadily across the area directly between the
Gilgamesh
and the asteroid. Paul waited, trying to control his breathing, waiting to see whether
Gilgamesh
would try to slam shots past the
Michaelson
and risk hitting the American ship.
They don't know we can't fire on them unless they hit us. If they do hit us, will the captain fire on them? Will they take the risk of hitting us?

They didn't. The
Gilgamesh
's weapons fell silent as
Michaelson
's thrusters kept kicking in from various angles to cause sudden changes in the
Michaelson
's course and position so that the SASAL ship couldn't predict where the American ship would be from moment to moment. The
Lord Nelson
skidded into position between
Saladin
and the asteroid, braking hard with remarkable precision, and the
Saladin
stopped firing as well. The maneuvering display began to lose its insane web of projected courses as some of the ships settled in to new positions. Nothing and no one seemed to be headed for collision with
Michaelson
at the moment, though a lot of things were too close for Paul's peace of mind.

Paul took a long, deep breath, then studied the display for remaining trouble. Though the space above the asteroid had calmed, scattered symbols revealed that some sort of ground combat was still going on between the cops and the settlers on the surface of the asteroid.

"Mr. Sinclair."

Paul shook his head to clear it, feeling slightly stunned by the press of events and the recent chaotic movements of ships in the small area around the asteroid. "Yeah, Senior Chief."

"Sir, there's two main pieces of the
Smith
heading outward. If there's still any survivors, they'd most likely be on one of them."

Paul eyed the symbols the chief had highlighted, taking long moments to comprehend why she'd emphasized the point. Then the reason finally came clear. He glanced at Commander Garcia, who was watching the situation on the asteroid's surface with a sort of horrified fascination and seemed unaware that Imari had spoken. "Thanks, Senior Chief. Bridge, this is Combat. We have two primary pieces of wreckage from the
Smith
headed away from us. They may hold any survivors."

Hard to say how the information would be received, given everything else the captain and the rest of the bridge crew had to worry about right now. The maneuvering thrusters punched a couple more times, jarring Paul and countering an attempt by the
Gilgamesh
to clear its line of fire to the asteroid.

The commonplace sound of a bosun pipe shrilled across the general announcing system. "Gig crew to the gig, on the double."

Paul grinned and gave Senior Chief Imari a thumbs-up. There wasn't any doubt that the gig would be sent out to try to catch those big pieces of wreckage and see if there was anyone left alive on them. But his elation faded as he took another look at the combat display. The Russians and Southern Africans hadn't moved, holding their positions as the situation swirled around them. Both the
Alsace
and the
Middle Kingdom
were finally sliding in between the SASAL ships and the asteroid, further limiting the ability of both the
Gilgamesh
and the
Saladin
to fire or maneuver. Paul almost shuddered as he saw how close the other ships were now. If somebody zigged when they were supposed to zag, there'd be a collision for certain.

The combined obstacles of the
Michaelson
, the two Euro ships and the Han Chinese had finally brought a halt to the SASAL firing on the asteroid, but the temporary structures Paul had spent so many long hours watching had all been shattered and breached. The
Michaelson
's own sensors and the data links to the police teams couldn't tell him how many had been destroyed by the SASAL ships and how many by ground fighting or the suicide attacks the fanatics had threatened.
Dammit. Most of those people must be dead. Dammit. We were here to stop something like this from happening and we couldn't
.

Paul blinked as the last traces of action calmed with amazing quickness. One moment the situation was a swirl of action, with weapons firing and ships moving too close too fast, the next the weapons had fallen silent, the ships had settled into new positions that might be too close but were nonetheless almost stationary relative to each other, and even the battle symbols on the asteroid had dwindled to nothing.

It almost felt peaceful. Except for the scattered wreckage of the
Smith
tumbling outward. Except for the venting of gases still taking place at a few sites on the asteroid where wrecked and probably lifeless structures now littered the bare rock. Except for the smoldering anger and sense of futility Paul felt as he watched the SASAL ships pivot under the push of their thrusters and begin accelerating away from the asteroid.

"Secure from General Quarters. Set Readiness Condition One Alpha."

There was still so much to do. Support the cops. Coordinate moving the
Michaelson
and the other warships further out from the asteroid again. See if they could help anybody, somehow. Paul looked around, his head aching and fuzzy with fatigue, as he heard reveille being sounded.
Have I been in Combat that long
?

Senior Chief Imari yawned, rubbing her face. "I need a drink," she announced.

Paul managed a smile. "Coffee? Yeah, me, too."

"I didn't mean coffee, sir. Not after tonight. But it'll have to do, won't it? It's times like this I wish I was on the Brit ship with a fully stocked bar."

One of the operations specialists was sent to get coffee from the mess decks. When he returned, the sailor also carried a carton of battle rations. Paul and his sailors studied the food dubiously. They were all hungry, but if ordinary Navy food could be atrocious, battle rations could be inedible. In the end, Paul cautiously nibbled on some sort of food bar, which seemed fairly tasteless, and drank his coffee gratefully.