No Way to Start a War (TCOTU, Book 2) (This Corner of the Universe) (11 page)

The
tactical plot quickly cluttered with information.  All but one of the fighters
of the second strike force had launched their missiles.  That single fighter,
suffering from a targeting computer lock error, turned back toward the carriers
as its fifty-five brothers altered course to intercept the Hollaran Carrier group,
14.5
lm
away.  The two hundred twenty Brevic missiles streaked by the
first wave of three hundred forty Hollaran missiles flying nearly reciprocal
courses.  Missiles continued to pour from the opposing warships and five
minutes later, the final wave launched from the Hollaran Vanguard fleet.

Truesworth
continued to focus
Kite’s
optics on the enemy as he said, “No course
change from them yet, Captain.  It looks like they want to close to knife-fighting
range with us.”

Heskan
detected the anxiety in the young lieutenant’s voice.  “Let them,” Heskan answered
with false bravado.  “I don’t think they’ll like our second-gen RSLs.”  The
RSL, or radiant stream laser, was a relatively new concept.  The weapon system shared
the same principles as the general-purpose laser but amplified the radius of
the beam greatly.  The RSL also fired a continuous stream of focused
electromagnetic radiation instead of the bursts of a GP.  The product was a
laser beam ten times larger than standard that emitted large amounts of radiation. 
Not only did RSLs have the range of a heavy laser, a full 10
ls
, but it
was more likely to harm incoming missiles than the standard laser.  Even the
radiation that accompanied a near miss from an RSL could hopelessly scramble a
missile’s internals and disrupt its flight path.  The price of the radiant
stream laser was it took four times the space as a quad AMS laser turret and
eight times the power.  While
Bulwark
had first-generation RSLs,
Kite
and
Aspis
were equipped with the second iteration, the cutting edge of
the fledgling technology.

“Has
an RSL ever been fired at a Hollie?” Vernay asked.

“Not
that I know of.  Maybe you’ll get your name in the history books yet, Stacy.”

“Oh,”
Vernay smiled wickedly at Heskan, “I’m going to be famous but not for that.”

Heskan
was thinking of a response when Lieutenant Spencer, his attention focused on
Kite’s
point defense displays, announced, “Vampires entering RSL point defense range
now.”

“Carriers
have suspended recovery operations during the attack, Captain,” Truesworth
added.

Heskan
half-expected to hear the noise from
Kite’s
twelve firing RSLs or see
the lights on the bridge dim as the weapon systems pulled power from the ship’s
power plants; however, he noticed nothing unusual.  Even after his experience
on
Anelace
, the surrealism of the quiet that pervaded interstellar combat
was alien to him.

“Vampire
Alpha Twenty-eight destro…” Spencer cut himself off and guiltily looked in
Vernay’s direction.

Tranquility
descended on the bridge belying the maelstrom of destruction taking place
within 10
ls
of Heskan.  As
Kite’s
tactical display serenely
glowed with successful missile intercepts and erased the appropriate symbols, on
the perimeter of the hull, gunner’s mates were frantically working to achieve
target lock on missiles traveling in excess of 170,000,000 meters per second.

The
number of missiles in the Hollaran first wave dropped leisurely at first but as
they entered the 5
ls
firing envelope of CortRon 15’s AMS lasers, the
interceptions escalated quickly.  Within the squadron, weapons officers worked
to ensure their assigned portion of the defensive network was covered, prioritizing
surviving missiles to the one hundred fifty-four AMS and GP lasers used in Task
Group 3.1’s defense.  Additionally, the 2-Gen RSLs of
Kite
and
Aspis
and
1-Gen RSLs of
Bulwark
blotted Hollaran missiles from space with
direct hits and proximity damage.  Also firing, but only infrequently, were
Bulwark’s
and
Sentinel’s
kinetic defense turrets which vomited streams of projectiles
at any missiles slipping inside 1
ls
of either ship.  The KDT, a weapon
of last resort, had fallen out of favor inside the research and design circles given
its miniscule range.  The new Buckler class ships like
Kite
and
Aspis
did not include the outdated weapon.

Kite’s
RSLs had been firing for sixteen
seconds when the final missile in the Hollaran first wave was destroyed 2
ls
short of the frigate,
Coach
.  The weapons directors of each ship
immediately provided new targets to their RSL gunners, who trained the massive
turrets back out to their 10
ls
range to begin the work of target acquisition
on the second Hollaran missile wave, 14
ls
away.  With only six seconds
before the next volley of missiles was within firing range, Heskan began to
wonder if the RSLs would cool sufficiently.  He looked at his first officer
with concern.

“Yeah,”
Vernay answered before the question was asked.  “I’m running the numbers now
and it doesn’t look good.  The engineers designed the RSLs expecting a longer
break between waves.  These new Greyhounds are sixteen percent faster than the
old Dachshund Hollie missiles and volley thirteen percent faster as well.” 
Vernay frowned.  “They’ve achieved parity with us on missile launch rates and
now their missiles are quite a bit faster than ours.” 

Heskan
shared her sour expression. 
Why can’t the enemy be stupid for once?
  “That
means our RSLs aren’t going to get a long enough cooldown period between salvos
and that could add up to big trouble as we process more and more waves.”

As
if emphasizing his concern,
Kite’s
RSLs began firing at the second wave
as Vernay tried to put the best face on the situation as she could.  “The
temperatures aren’t bad now.  It’s possible they’ll plateau at some point with
no effect.”  Her grimace told Heskan she did not believe it.

Heskan
looked across the bridge at his weapons officer.  Lieutenant Spencer was in
mid-conversation with someone over the mic in his shocksuit helmet. 
Probably
Ensign Miller, the officer in charge of the RSL section.  I’m sure Spencer sees
what we’ve seen
.

The
second wave entered the 5
ls
shell of the squadron’s smaller lasers. 
Hundreds of shots over the next eight seconds brought the final missile down 3
ls
from
Eagle
and the process began anew for the rapidly approaching third
wave.

“Captain,”
Spencer said quickly, trying to squeeze a conversation into the six-second lull,
“our RSLs are heating up faster than expected.  It’s not serious now but it
might be later.”

“I
understand,” Heskan answered.  “You let me worry about the heat and keep using
them to their fullest extent.  You’re doing great, Tony.  Keep it up.”

Heskan
leaned closer to Lieutenant Vernay.  “Any ideas?”

Vernay
shrugged and offered, “If we could coordinate with Bulwark and Aspis, maybe we
could stagger their use a little but I don’t think we have that kind of time in
the middle of an action.  As someone who’s sat in that chair—” she pointed to
the weapons station, “—it was a relief to hear you tell him to keep using
them.  He’s got enough pressure right now without the captain taking away some
of his resources.”

“Glad
you approve.”  Heskan returned his attention to the tactical display.  The
third wave had been stopped like the two before it.  Heskan began to feel
optimistic. 
Three down, twelve to go.  We still have a long way but we’re
holding our own.  Even the frigates are doing okay
.

The
fourth wave of three hundred forty missiles raced toward them.  At 10
ls
,
Heskan watched the RSLs wipe missiles from space with each shot.  The missile
count entering the 5
ls
shell was lower than the wave before it. 
However, as the seconds passed, the interception rates slacked off.  The number
was falling but not as fast as the first waves. 
Sentinel’s
KDTs knocked
down two missiles, sparing the destroyer; however, several missiles in the
center of the formation evaded the myriad of laser bursts targeted at them.

Chariot’s
blip on the tactical plot pulsed
three distinct times.  Heskan flinched as he saw the frigate’s defense computer
desynchronize from the squadron’s point defense network. 
Did we lose her?

Heskan
looked at Truesworth and questioned, “ELTI on Chariot?”

Heskan
could see the back of Truesworth’s helmet shaking back and forth.  “No, sir, at
least not yet.”

 “Captain
Dixon’s point defense will be definitely compromised, Captain,” Vernay pointed
out.

Heskan
stabbed at his console to open a channel to
Bulwark
.  The slowly
blinking comm light mocked him as he waited for Durmont to respond. 
Come
on, Shane, accept the damn comm request
.  As he waited, he watched the
fifth wave bear down on the task group.  Precious seconds later, he cancelled
the request and ordered, “Jack, send this to Bulwark:  Commander Durmont, Kite
is pinching in toward the center of the formation to help cover Chariot’s AOR. 
We’ll still be able to cover most of our own area of responsibility but the
center needs help.  Heskan out.”

“Diane,
move us… here,” Heskan said as he placed Vernay’s maneuver on Selvaggio’s
navigation plot.

“You’ve
got to follow the speed milestones precisely, Diane,” Vernay added quickly.

“Aye-aye,”
Selvaggio affirmed but looked skeptically at the intricate permutation of drive
and thrusters she would be asked to use.  Keeping her focus on her panel, she
said, “WEPS, we’re moving but I’ll be sure to keep your current turrets
unmasked while we do.”  Spencer waved curtly to acknowledge.  He was speaking once
again quickly into his helmet’s mic to someone deep within the ship.

The
stress on the bridge washing over him, Heskan glanced at Vernay and tried to
say casually, “So your maneuver saves the day and the fleet.  Is this how you
get famous, Stacy?”

Vernay’s
smile was undefeated but a little ragged as she shook her head.  “Nope.”

Kite
needed over a minute to gradually
creep closer to the formation’s center while ensuring she did not speed past a location
that was able to cover her assigned corner of the square.  There would be no
time to rotate the destroyer and use the ship’s drives to correct for any
overshot of her new position.  The fifth and sixth Hollaran waves had come and
gone during that time and while the missiles of the fifth wave had stretched
the escort defenses to the brink, they had somehow held.  The sixth wave saw
three missiles leak through the center of the defensive umbrella to make runs on
Avenger
but the carrier’s own quad AMS pulse lasers shot down the
offenders.  By the time
Kite
was less than 1
ls
from her desired
position, the seventh wave arrived.

Heskan
immediately noticed the RSL fire coming from
Bulwark
had diminished. 
The first-generation radiant stream lasers had finally attained a heat level
that began to disrupt their rate of fire.  The incoming missile total was reduced
but not by nearly enough.  As the vampires breached the AMS laser shell, it was
obvious to Heskan the center of the formation would not hold. 
So close to
AMS range.
 The anguish rushed through him as he cursed.  
Dammit, if only
I had just ordered Kite to move instead of wasting time trying to get through
to Durmont.

Seven
missiles eluded the laser net.  All seven made their runs against the
frigates. 
Chariot
exploded in a shower of light, heat, and fragments
before her crew even knew their final defensive shots had missed. 
Coach
rocked from a near miss and direct hit.  Contemplating the hits, Heskan was
grateful
Kite’s
optics were not focused on his squadron. 
Being this
close means we’d probably see some gruesome images in the wreckage
clouds.

“Coach
has dropped out of the defense network,” Vernay stated.

As
Heskan was recovering from the shock of losing a third of the squadron in mere
seconds, Selvaggio softly informed him, “Kite’s at our new station, sir. 
Trying now to kill our momentum with thrusters only.”

 “Message
from Bulwark,” Truesworth interrupted.

Durmont’s
ragged voice came through the bridge speakers.  “Durmont to Heskan, maneuver as
you see fit.  I’m busy enough managing my own ship and I can’t be expected to captain
everyone else’s as well.”

Heskan
felt mixed relief at the backhanded approval from his commander. 
Still,
he thought bitterly,
he left just enough room for him to put it all on me if
we can’t salvage this.  Oh well,
if I am going to own this mess, then
I’m going to own it. 
“Diane, move us one light-second closer to the
center.  Jack, send this to Aspis:  Captain Gary, have your ship execute Vernay
Maneuver One to support our center.”

Heskan
heard “aye-aye” in unison from his bridge officers.

“Stacy,
help Tony with point defense.  We’re going to be overwhelmed soon unless we
pull off some incredible interception rates.”  Heskan hated to issue the last
order but he would rather have Spencer mad at him for throwing his first
officer into his section unasked than dead because he did not give
Kite
the best chance to defend herself.

Vernay
nodded once.  “Yes, sir.  Tony, I’ll work with Miller’s RSLs first and then
help you and Fong with the pulse lasers.”

“Thank
you, ma’am,” Spencer acknowledged, sounding relieved.

The
eighth Hollaran missile wave charged at the Brevic fleet, focused on the
corners held by Durmont and Moore.  It fizzled out less than 1
ls
from each
captain’s ship and Heskan was sure that the kinetic defense turrets of both
Bulwark
and
Sentinel
had saved their respective ships from damage. 
Maybe the
KDTs aren’t so useless after all
, he reflected.

“Aspis
on the move, Captain.  General distress call from Coach,” Truesworth said in a rapid-fire
cadence.

Coach’s
call was voice-only but the
torment of the messenger was apparent to all: “… bridge was taken out and we
assume Captain Lee is dead with everyone else.  I’m assuming command of the
ship but we have limited sensor capability.  We need help.  I’m not even sure
we can defend ourselves—” Heskan overrode the comm controls and muted the
message. 
We don’t need to hear that mess with the next wave already in RSL
range
.

Temperatures
inside
Kite’s
RSLs were perilously high but Heskan noticed that Vernay’s
first action was to set up a rotation among the twelve turrets designed to give
each battery an extra second and a half of cooling time with only a minimal
degradation to their point defense capability.  She was currently
reprioritizing targets for the AMS subsection.  As the ninth missile wave extinguished,
Heskan realized
Kite
had achieved its highest interception rate since
the start of the engagement. 
Two guesses how our efficiency improved
,
Heskan thought as he watched Vernay manipulate the controls of her console like
an accomplished pianist.  He had a horrible thought.  
Did I doom this fleet
when I promoted her?
 
What should I have said?  “Stacy, I know you’re
more than ready to be a fantastic first officer but I can’t promote you because
you’re too good to lose at WEPS?”

Heskan
spent the next thirty seconds sending orders to
Coach
defining its greatly
reduced responsibilities within the point defense umbrella.  He hoped that
receiving concise and achievable orders from squadron leadership would refocus
whoever had assumed command back to their mission.  He also courtesy-copied
Durmont but was not too worried about stepping on the squadron commander’s
toes.  Heskan had been lurking in both the squadron’s general comm frequency
and the squadron command frequency and had yet to hear Durmont issue a single
order. 
He’s a work in progress, that’s for sure.  I bet he’s so busy
micromanaging his ship that he’s lost sight of the big picture.
 
I
shouldn’t be too judgmental though; I’d probably be doing the same thing if not
for my experience on Anelace
.
  All that time complaining about how
everyone else had something to do during battle while I just sat on my hands.  It’s
to prepare you for when you have to look beyond your own ship’s hull during larger
engagements.

The
orders to
Coach
sent, Heskan gazed at the tactical plot.  The CortRon
was holding but just barely.  The tenth and eleventh waves had failed to hit a
ship but four missiles had leaked through the screen only to be destroyed by
the carriers’ self-defense turrets. 
Kite’s
sensor section predicted the
missiles from the second fighter strike force had finally reached the Vanguard
force but the light from the attack’s results would not reach
Kite
for
another three minutes. 
Let’s hope we’re still around to see it.

“Captain,”
Vernay said, a trace of panic entering her voice for the first time, “RSLs
across the fleet have overheated.  I’m tinkering with Kite’s but we won’t have
a full complement soon.”

The
missiles of the Hollaran twelfth wave raced inside the 5
ls
defensive
shell and AMS pulse lasers added their fire to defeat the onrush.  Lieutenant
Selvaggio looked back at the first officer.  “Do you want me to rotate Kite to
bring our port RSLs to bear?  You’ll lose the starboard ones but those are hot
anyway.”

Vernay
looked at her console in horror.  “Not enough time between waves for that, Diane,”
she said helplessly.

The
thirteenth wave of missiles sprinted toward the task group.  Twenty-five of the
squadron’s twenty-seven unmasked radiant stream lasers fired at 10
ls
and
again before 5
ls
.  As the wave crashed against Task Group 3.1’s outer
defenses, forty-nine missiles met a fiery end while another sixteen lost their
targets with the squadron’s ECM efforts.  Fifteen of those missiles never
reacquired a lock and raced harmlessly past the task group.  The last missile
lost sight of
Coach
but locked on to
Kite
.  The surviving two
hundred ninety-two Greyhound missiles streaked inside the squadron’s pulse
laser weapons envelope and space around the ships filled with light, heat and
radiation.  The first, well-aimed AMS shots at 5
ls
swatted down one
hundred thirty-one erratically evading missiles.  The gunners in their turrets had
close to ten seconds to establish hard locks on those first targets, resulting
in the high interception rate.  At 3
ls
, the AMS turrets erupted again
but their kill rate diminished as many gunners labored to acquire newly
assigned targets during their weapon’s two-second recycle time.  Pulse laser
bursts crisscrossed the killing field as an additional seventy-seven missiles blinked
out short of their goal.  Half of the RSLs barked one last time at 2
ls
,
negating more. 
Not enough
, Heskan thought as he watched the final
seventy-nine missiles run toward the escorts.  The final, desperate AMS volley
at 1
ls
ripped seventy-five more missiles from space.

Heskan
clutched the braces of his shockseat as he watched two missiles lance
Sentinel
and another two pierce
Coach
.  Each ship symbol flashed briefly on the
tactical display before regaining its steady glow. 
There can’t be much left
of Coach
, Heskan thought
.  And how will Sentinel respond to her hits?

“Captain,
we’re in position deeper in the center,” Selvaggio said.

Simultaneously
Spencer called out, “Sir, we’re losing coverage on our corner, parts of it are
outside five light-seconds!”

“Acknowledged,
WEPS,” Heskan gruffly responded. 
What choice is there?  We can’t leave the
center wide open.

Over the general squadron
frequency, Heskan heard Durmont’s voice requesting
Sentinel
send a damage
report and then a second, urgent plea to Lieutenant Moore for a response. 
We’ll
know how bad Sentinel’s damage is soon enough
, Heskan thought as he watched
the second to last missile wave approach the 10
ls
barrier.  “Stacy, burn
out our RSLs if you have to.  We can’t fall apart when we’re right at the end.”

*  *  *

Vernay
nodded and spoke into her mic to Ensign Miller and his RSL battery chiefs.  She
had essentially taken over the subsection as there was not enough time to pass
orders down from herself to Ensign Miller to his chief petty officer and further
down the chain of command.  Instead, she spoke directly to everyone, including
Kite’s
sixteen petty officers running each three-man RSL crew.  Expediency had
triumphed over courtesy.  She had even gone so far as to order her port side
RSLs, weapons that were facing away from the missile attack, to fire at any
missiles that made it past
Kite
but had yet to hit the carriers behind
them.  This was contrary to regulations, as it was possible the RSL shots could
miss a missile and strike a friendly ship but Vernay had decided the chance of
friendly fire was worth the risk
.  The admiral can court-martial my butt
after he thanks me for saving his
, she thought.

The
temperatures inside the RSL turrets spiked as they fired without regard for
thermal guidelines.  No longer firing conservatively, the extra defense volleys
turned what would have been a flood of leaking missiles into a stream.  As the
Greyhound missiles rushed inside AMS range, Vernay breathed a sigh of relief as
Sentinel
opened fire. 
She’s still in the fight… for now
, Vernay
thought.  The missile count dropped belatedly once again.  Watching her console
helplessly, she despaired,
too many vampires and not enough defenses… I’m
out of tricks.

Eight
missiles eluded destruction from the AMS fire.  Two ripped into
Sentinel
,
opening large holes amidship, while six sped toward
Avenger
and
Eagle
. 
Although having less than two seconds to acquire a target lock and fire,
Kite’s
portside RSLs surreptitiously wrecked one vampire’s computer brain with a near
miss.  Four of the remaining five split evenly between the carriers and met
their end under the self-defense fire.  The sole survivor slammed against
Eagle’s
starboard shield.  The Greyhound missile’s impact detonator triggered against
the shield and its gravity warhead activated.  Although the warhead’s effect
could only be maintained for a few microseconds, the brutal force of the gravity
waves sprung into momentary existence and propagated outward at the speed of
light to batter down the shield.  The gravity wave’s shock front rained over
Eagle’s starboard sensor wing, sixteen meters from the nacelle’s center.

“Dammit,” Vernay
cursed even as she began to reorient her defenses toward the final wave of missiles
from the Vanguard fleet.

*  *  *

Lieutenant
Kelly Gary, on
Aspis’
bridge, gratefully sat under the restraints of her
shockseat, for without the restriction she had no doubt her body would be
rocking nervously.  Until now, her first and only combat action had been in
Narvi where she had directed a warning shot fired from her corvette across a
freighter’s bow.  The short laser burst had stopped the freighter in its tracks
and, to her delight, yielded several kilotons of contaminated grain seed that
would have otherwise been sold on the open market.