Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1 (9 page)

"Ladies and gentlemen, make it happen. Wheels up at 2122. Questions?" There are none, and they leave to get to work. Ayala and Shelby stay behind.
"Thank you, though I am supposed to convene a Court Martial now."
Wry, tired smile from Shelby.
"Mr. Ayala, take the con please." He nods, and heads out. Shelby doesn't say anything til he's gone and the door closes.
"I made a mess while you were gone."
"If that were true, I wouldn't be standing here."
"No, I'm not ready for this."
"Commander, do you remember my first six months on
Ayacucho
? Remember going to Brazil Three? Remember Seaman Baldour? Remember the incident with
Coral Sea
?" Get a smile out of her with the last one.
"Watch the bridge video, you were never that bad. If Summerlin hadn't been here, you'd probably still be on the planet. His plan."
"Which you were smart enough to take, after getting the ship onto a path for silent running. Your ship's in good shape, you accomplished your objective, and no one was injured. I'd say you did fine."
"Watch the video."
"Ok, I will, but Shelby, it doesn't change anything. I picked the people on this ship carefully, and while I am occasionally stupid, my personnel judgement never is. I have complete faith in you."
"Watch the video."
"Can we go run first? I need the exercise before we strap in."
"Fine."
"Call Palmer, see if he wants to join us."
I think she is going to hit me, then she thinks better of it and calls the lieutenant. We get a nice 45 minutes in before hitting the shower and finding the bridge.
I relieve Ayala and strap into the captain's couch, hair taking up half the bridge, but I'm leaving it alone. Course is available on my screen, exactly as we talked about.
"Mr. Garcia, course approved, engage on your mark."
"On my mark, flight plan approved. Acceleration in 14 minutes, 32 seconds."
There's no horn for 14:32, so she has to wait until 5:00 on the clock, then sound acceleration alarm. We're doing the three gees for 30 minutes plan which worked nicely before, before matching speed, maintaining the 16 hour head start
Orion
has for stealth purposes. I use the extra time to get a message off to Summerlin with the details of our little meeting.
The enemy is at 1.8 gee, projected based on their vector for a 20 hour burn. We're going to do a half hour at 3 gee, then 2.25 for 15 and half. When completed, both ships should go thrust zero at the same instant, at the identical velocity,
Yorktown
now the wolf, stalking, 30 million kilometers behind. I'd have preferred staying at three longer, closing the gap a little, but Powell prefers no more than 30 minutes above 2.3, and she's the boss when it comes to our engines. At least for now.
Finally, we're slammed back into our couches as
Yorktown
struggles toward three gees, hang there for our half hour, then relax as she settles comfortably in at 2 and a quarter. First break I turn the bridge over to Ayala, and acceleration ends with Perez in the big seat.
I join her from my ready room.
"Watched the video. Big chair fits you fine, just remember to show your people how much you trust them next time."
"Roger, that, Skipper." I send her off to sleep, and float over to the RISTA station.
"Courtney, show me how their signature changed when they cut engines." We run through each of her passive scanners.
"Except for the infrared, there are exactly zero emissions of any other form of energy we scan. No radio, nothing that indicates machinery, reactors, or electronic devices of any kind. And the infrared is at a level consistent with being solar reflection only, no internal heat sources."
I'm shocked. "No way the ship was built that well, especially with quarter inch armor."
"I agree sir. They could have coated it with something, that would be the easiest. Otherwise, it would have to be some type of insulation better than anything we use."
"Or just really thick."
"Really thick, hadn't thought of that, but it would work."
"That's because you aren't, but I am."
She looks at me, puzzled.
"Really thick." She laughs. I leave her to get back to work.
I float back to my couch and message Lt. Palmer to join me when he can. He's down in 90 seconds.
"Hope I didn't take you away from anything."
"No sir, we're still cleaning, refilling, resting."
"Tony, get a copy of the blueprints for
Orion
from McAdams. I want plans for a boarding party with three possible objectives: surveillance only, put her out of commission and get off, take the ship. Too many unknowns to really know, I know, but do your best. Get Perez and McAdams to help, Summerlin if you want."
"Can I borrow Yeager?" I nod.
"Him and every other asset on board. Oh, and plan for me to be along."
"Commander Perez isn't going to like that, sir."
"Freefall today and tomorrow. Lunch, my ready room, 1200 tomorrow, bring your plans."
"Yes, sir."
I let him go, thinking that there's been more ZGM between my First and my Marine commander with conversation about me after. I get back to researching the purchase requisitions for engine parts. Early afternoon, Ensign McAdams floats over. Her team's been on duty all morning. Maybe two or three days. If they sleep it's news to me.
"Found something, Skipper."
She links her pad to my screens, probably sees the requisitions before I can get them off, I get her on my right, and the two boys on my left. The unfortunate odor has returned and is in the middle, where I am. I'll live with it.
"CSS
Opportunity
, missing in Gamma Upsilon, 35 months ago. No trace. CSS
Defino
, missing in Gamma Nu, 30 months ago. No trace. CSS
Suncoast
, missing in Gamma Theta, just like
Orion
, 24 months ago. No trace."
"Basically, first one in the most remote sector in Union space, borders nothing, then one sector over, one more ship, one sector over, two ships. There are other vessels missing, but these four are identical design out of the California shipyards, all 240,000 ton cargo carriers. Most of the others have at least some clue as to what happened, but these have none."
"
Orion
seems to be operating with the engines it had originally, no upgrades. Thrust efficiency from radiant energy measurements and thrust patterns are supportive of the hypothesis that those are original equipment. Weapons, obviously, are not."
"You're saying that even in our crippled state, we're still faster."
"Unloaded, they should make 3.5 to 4 gees, depending on what shape they're in."
"Ok, not much faster, but some. And depending on whether they've coated the outside of their ships with something or added insulation inside, they may or may not be hard for us to shoot," I ask and tell at the same time.
"Correct."
"I'm praying for really thick." She laughs.
"Me too, sir. Coating probably reflects our lasers some, really thick just leaks out when vaporized."
"Of course, still four on one, 960,000 tons to 8,000."
"Skipper, I'd say we've got them exactly where we want them."
"Ensign, why do you think they stopped moving? Jump. Jump. Jump. Then two in one system?"
"Resources, sir. Gamma Omicron is full of iron, gold, copper, silver, diamonds, titanium, coal, various heavy metals. They stole a cargo ship and then another, all the while looking for cargo to go in it."
I think for a second. "They're going into business selling the resources, or they want to use them?"
"Hadn't thought of that. They did build those weird little ships we saw."
"Yes they did. Give that some thought. And, forward a short report on this to Commander Perez and Lt. Ayala, please."
"Aye, sir."
They start to leave.
"McAdams, Bass, Manuel." They stop. "Nice work. From now on, one shower each 24 hours, eight hours rack time in every 24, and enough food to prevent weight loss. Those are three orders I expect to be followed precisely."
Weary smiles go on their faces. Two "Aye's" step on a "Roger." I hope they know I'm serious.
All's quiet on the
Yorktown
front the rest of the day and the next morning. Palmer keeps his appointment at noon, along with my First, Second and RISTA.
"What do you have for us, Mr. Palmer?"
"Per your instructions, Captain, I have three assault plans for
Orion
. All of them are highly speculative, based on many assumptions. In each case we could be walking into a superior force with little possibility of retreat."
"
Orion
is essentially 12 large containers held together by a thin outer shell, with a small compartment for operators in the bow, and a big space for engines in the stern. Think of it as an old school railroad train with the whole thing contained in metal tubing. We should be able to gain access quietly through the hatches that access the shipping compartments, or noisily by using the ZR's cutters. The compartments are normally pressurized, and there's little chance of security systems inside them."
"Let's start with the plan to perform a recon patrol...."
For an hour and a half, we're entranced. It might have been the most unrealistic meeting I've had since we got here, but it was also by far the most fun.
To accomplish the recon, he suggests using
Congress
to ferry the second of our gigs to a point in front of
Orion
's flight path, have it park powered down, distract
Orion
's crew with an attempted missile strike, power up briefly, float to a hatch and cut our way in. Do the recon, get back into the gig, and sail home. Simple, and potentially deadly, two people versus how many once they get there? No way to know.
He recommends against using personnel to disable the ship, suggests a missile strike or laser attack. I'm inclined to agree, and I am itching to see how long it takes to make
Orion
into oxygen with a 24 incher. If we have to, he suggests same plan as for recon, but bring one or two of the shoulder mounted ground to air missiles the Marines brought, and fire them inside the main body of the ship.
If we decide to take her, he suggests again starting with the distraction plan, get two fools, I mean brave soldiers, into the rear of the ship, create their own distraction in one of the compartments, hope that the crew all go there, and then attach the ZR to a bulkhead between the command deck and the crew quarters and blast our way in.
Good plans, except, as RISTA keeps pointing out, based on exactly zero intelligence. Not IQ kind of intelligence, data intelligence. How many crew on the ship? What weapons do they have? Where are they physically located within the ship? Are the spaces between the cargo compartments pressurized, or just the interiors of the bow and stern compartments? Are they carrying anything explosive on board other than the usual stuff like fuel?
All good questions, and all the basis for a couple extended arguments between McAdams and Ayala. When we get through all the discussion, it's Perez who turns to me.
"Skipper, you're not actually considering boarding this thing are you?"
Everybody turns to me and waits.
"Yes I am. We know nothing, as RISTA keeps pointing out. If we send 30 megatons their way and blow them to the Hell they deserve, we learn nothing. I'd like to take a crack at finding out something I could put in a report, other than big ship go boom."
She's about to start in on me.
"Commander, where is
Bainbridge
?"
She thinks for a second about how to respond. I don't give her time.
"Does anyone know why we've only found the women on these ships, not the men? The doctor's report says they injected something into the four on
Trump
, that's what those marks are, though we don't have the facilities to do an autopsy and test, so we don't know what. Any idea why they did that?"
She's defeated. "No sir, but," she pauses, puts her hand on her forehead and looks down, "Katana, whoever goes on that gig is going home in one of Tony's body containers."
"Possible, not certain. It's also possible the ship is basically undefended inside, and we can slip in and get out without too much trouble."
"Do you really believe that, captain?" It's Ayala, ganging up on me this time.
"No, I don't. They had several of those small ships doing loading duty, that means flight crew, ground crew, and command crew on
Orion
, plus assorted other folks."
Lt. Palmer adds his piece too. "Sir, it will also be impossible to practice. We normally create a mockup of the target, and run the scenario a thousand times before we go. This would be a one shot deal, no practice, one chance to get it right."
Ayala starts to say something, McAdams goes back at him, and everybody listens to the debate team. I missed what started it, and I pay no attention to what continues. These two are great at creating space for me the think. Finally, I've had enough.
"Ok, let's move on. Mr. Palmer, see if you, Commander Perez, and Lt. Ayala can come up with a way to distract
Orion
without letting them know that
Yorktown
or
Congress
are here. Thank you all, back to stations please."
Everybody leaves, except Shel. She floats over to look me eye to eye, I'd rather do that to a mad tiger.
"You're going to get yourself killed. Maybe I should have gone home and left you stranded, but alive."
"Shelby, we've established a trail of at least five ships, and at least 200 dead crew. Do we leave knowing that?"
"We jump out, get Showalter to jump back with
Sherman
and her battle group, and we pulverize the ships and their base."
"Meaning we put the frigates out of business permanently, and we still don't find out what was going on. Who built those 41.22 inch laser cannons? Are there more of them out there? What if
Orion
is the only ship here and the others are gone? How will you find them? If they've armed the other ships, and one of them jumps in next to Armstrong Station, those 42's would rip it apart in no more than three broadsides."
"If you're dead on
Orion
, we won't find any answers, I'll have to go home, there won't be a frigate fleet, and we'll be just as in the dark as we are now, only weaker."
"Give me options, Shel, get with Palmer and give me options."
She gives me a very unhappy salute, and floats off to do her duty.

Chapter 6

"Mr. Garcia, course approved, go on your mark."
"My mark, flight plan is go." Five minute acceleration alarms sound throughout the ship.
We're strapped into our couches ready for six hours at two gees. It will take us from our current position, 30 million kilometers behind
Orion
and matching her in course and speed, to a point hidden behind Gamma Omicron 6 waiting in ambush for her. I have roughly 30 hours to decide the form of that ambush. And, possibly, whether or not I lose a friend as well.
Exactly on time an extra 240 pounds slams me back into the padding, my straps grabbing automatically to make sure I stay where I am. A quick peek without turning my head says my crew is handling it well, continuing to relay information among themselves and adjust their screens.
My left is set to the nav display, which shows
Yorktown
perfectly down the line, where Garcia and her team will keep us for the next six hours. I turn my right screen back to the endless files of construction documents, still unable to locate any clue as to who might be responsible for the counterfeit parts in our engines.
Everything goes according to plan until we're four hours and 23 minutes into the burn.
"Aspect change on
Orion
." McAdams' voice makes me jump, and not in a good way.
"Confirm, Mr. McAdams," I command, praying its an instrumentation issue, but knowing better. If they've turned, the time delay between when they did it and when we see it makes it almost a certainty that they know we're here and have a head start on doing something about it.
"
Orion
definitely rotating, Skipper."
"On my screen please."
Her analysis board is always available to me, but she has so many things going at the same time it's easier to ask than to search through all her work. She's looking at the reflective sunlight on
Orion
's hull, the only electromagnetic signature we get off her when her engines aren't lit. Still don't know why that is.
The amount of light has increased in the past two minutes, telling us that more of her 1,000 foot long body is facing the sun. The numbers should continue to shift along a predictable curve, going back to a minimal level if she goes through the 180 shift to begin retro fire. It's what we expected, just five and a half hours too soon.
Only they rotate past 180 degrees before the engage their engines.
"
Orion
engine thrust at 2.2 gees. Estimate maximum thrust available at her current mass Skipper."
"In other words, they're going somewhere other than Gamma Omicron 6." My statement, but she knows it's a question too.
"Aye, sir. Calculating possible outcomes now."
"Take your time, be sure."
"Aye."
There's another long pause, followed by another statement we did not expect.
"New target, bearing 176 mark 001 solar, outbound Gamma Omicron 2. Standby for identification." There's excitement building in her voice.
Another ship, heading toward planet two, on a course that suggests it just jumped into the system. Suddenly the two pilots' hands are flying across their consoles, calculating possible courses. The ship's location we're seeing is about 97 minutes old, given our distance, but they can make a pretty good guess of where it is now and where it's going. McAdams' hands are flying across her touch screens, I can see the weapons panels pop up on her left and the nav and attack screens double booked on her right. She needs to get a third arm.
"Standard Union nav signal received, Skipper, it's the Commercial Starship
Packard
, registered to the mining company that's got the contract for this system."
Civilians, heading into a war zone, apparently unaware. Brilliant.
"RISTA, update on
Orion
's course relative to
Packard
?"
"Calculating."
I know it's only 20 seconds, but I'm squeezing my armrests so hard there's no circulation left in my hands.
"Captain, based on available data
Orion
on intercept course
Packard
, three hours prior orbit insertion."
"Mr. Garcia, plot intercept course for us, put us 50,000 kilometers ahead of
Orion
, matching course and speed, prior to her intercept of
Packard
, no more than 2.5 gees."
"Plotting, sir."
"Mr. Perez. Recommendation."
"Go weapons free, sir. Can't risk another civilian casualty."
"Mr. Ayala?"
"I concur. No option."
Garcia comes back on. "Three possible intercepts, on screen sir."
I call them up, knowing Perez and Ayala are as well.
First one takes us well past Orion and swings around, we'll be cutting it close, but won't be in weapons range of the enemy until near the end. The second and third give us a lot more room to work with, but potentially put us under the 42s for an hour or more. We're taking door number one.
"Mr. Ayala?"
"Recommend option one."
"RISTA?"
"Concur."
"That's a first. Mr. Perez?"
"Concur, Skipper, but we're not going to be able to screw around once we get there."
"Agreed."
"Mr. Garcia, course one approved, alter flight path on your mark."
"Course one approved, engines standby, now."
And we're floating. Much easier and safer to turn the mains off, move the nose where we want our new acceleration vector to be, and then hit the gas. The ship rotates, we get a gee at least horizontally, she's not messing around. The alarms sound. I record a message to Summerlin to intercept
Packard
, maximum possible speed, and what to do depending on what he sees us do. We've seen twice what happens when a corvette and a 42 inch laser meet, far better for us to take our shot first. I give him a copy of my log to send home with
Packard
, just in case.
"Acceleration warning. One minute. Acceleration in 60 seconds." Garcia's all business.
That's a mighty long minute before we're slammed backwards in our couches. Assuming no alteration in
Orion
's course and speed, we're 32 hours from intercept, 2.5 gees every second of that except for the 15 minute potty breaks every four hours and corresponding shift changes. We'll slot in between the two 240,000 ton vessels, an 8,000 ton mosquito, planning on not being squished. I feel like I can see the 42's from here.
I keep the nav screen on a rotation on my left display, alternating with screens of RISTA running gun simulations. The co-pilots and engineers practice with them. We mostly let the computer do the sighting, but with multiple weapons facing six directions, sometimes the tactical situation makes it smarter to give one battery to one person (port, starboard, upper, lower), and even the bow and stern guns. I'm betting McAdams keeps them all in her team at the end, 18 guns easier than the 44 on a destroyer or 78 on a cruiser.
My right screen stays with purchase orders for engine components, until I realize I have no concentration and switch it full time to weapons drills, with the left on the nav screen. Every now and then I peek at the engine displays, but true to her word, they are both nominal down the line.
Second to last shift, we do operational planning, locked in our couches. I'd much rather do it face to face, but we can't spare the time at zero gees.
"Too many unknowns for us to be comfortable here, ladies and gentlemen. Assume they know we're here, and that they've taken steps to protect their hull. Assume we're going to take at least one hit, probably more."
Sun Tzu teaches to discover where your enemy is and keep him in the dark about your position. Impossible in this kind of battle where each of us can calculate the velocity and acceleration vectors of the opponent, and orbital mechanics limits what we can do. Space battles are more often won because of luck or a mistake than by some unexpected tactic.
We go through each station and what options we have, though we're all almost certain it will come down to our ability to hit 42 inch wide targets at 50,000 kilometers. Takes well over an hour.
"No evidence that they have any missiles, and I am loath to use ours. My estimate is that a 42 inch gun would be an awfully effective anti-missile defense."
"Affirmative, sir, we ran 100,000 simulations and got through 3.6 percent of the time." Should have known RISTA would have been on top of that.
"Thank you, Ensign. In sum, we've taken control of the timing of the battle through our course, and once it begins we must seize and maintain control of the tempo. We're faster, quicker, and our weapons should have a higher fire rate. On the downside, we won't know how many cannons they have until they open their ports, and we probably won't have good targets to shoot at either until then."
"Questions?" Once again, I'm sure they have then, but nobody asks. Something I need to keep working on. If I'm not dead, that is.
Final shift change is slightly extended, so we can put on our battle uni's. Battle uniforms are one piece cloth outfits which seal at ankle, neck, and wrist, then you put on gloves and boots that seal against the base uniform. From neck down, you are self contained in a thin multilayered cloth garment that gives you relatively free movement, but some protection if you need to evac in vacuum. You hang your spacesuit helmet off of your couch, and you're good to go.
Command cabins have extra insulation and armor, no destroyer cabin in history has ever been penetrated before the ship was already lost. Fundamental ship design: take the two spots you can't lose, command and engineering, and design the ship so that they are always the last to go. Optimizes weight and function, though isn't particularly popular with the crew whose battle stations are elsewhere.
We strap back in and resume the decel program, two hours out.
Could have been two weeks. I now understand how 18th century sailors felt when they could see the sails of their targets, but at a half knot closure rate, might need a day to get within gun range, or two captains maneuvering against each other for 12 hours trying to get the wind at their back.
Orion
is in it's decel program, tail toward where
Packard
will be in couple hours, and where we will be in 97 minutes. We're coming in at an angle, minimizing the opportunity for them to fire on us, but with only 23 minutes at the end to act.
They'll get to us just at the end of their decel, so at worst, even if they squash us like a bug, they'll have to alter course, and it will give
Packard
precious time to get away. The trick is matching our course and speed at precisely the point we want, so we fall toward Gamma Omicron 2 together.
At 150,000 kilometers, we go to battle stations. No alarms this time, everyone is already there, I just remind them on the speaker.
"All hands," I try to use my calm voice, "Prepare for action." Then I go back to local comm.
"Mr. Jordan, all cannons hot." There's couple seconds delay.
"All cannons report ready, sir."
"Jump engines to standby."
Jordan again. "Jump engines report ready, 1 through 4." Just in case we need the shield.
"Commander?"
"Damage control parties in place. All hands at battle stations.
Yorktown
ready for combat."
"Thank you. Everyone focus on your responsibilities, and we'll teach these cowards what a Union frigate can do."
Our plan is to initiate action at 50,000 kilometers, but we don't get the chance.
Orion
hasn't deviated once in more than a day, now, with just minutes to go, that changes, she has a plan too. We're at 100,000 kilometers now when RISTA sees it.
"Aspect change on
Orion
," there is little excitement in McAdam's voice, she's gotten increasingly calm as we've gotten closer to the enemy, "Her engine's are off."
Thrusters are firing on
Yorktown
as Garcia compensates, our engines accelerating briefly to adjust for
Orion
's now greater closing speed.
I break radio silence, earlier than planned. My left index finger triggers the challenge radio, I will simultaneously transmit on every known Union, Royal and Dynastic military and civilian frequency, which sounds like a lot, but is really just 52. As soon as he hears me, Summerlin's orders are to break silence and get
Packard
the Hell out of here.
"This is Captain Katana Krieger of the Union Starship
Yorktown
to CSS
Orion
, surrender or be destroyed."
I wait 10 seconds, no response.
"
Orion
, this is
Yorktown
, you have 15 seconds to surrender or we will open fire."
You can't see an infrared laser being fired, especially in deep space, and you don't feel it when it hits unless something bad has just happened to your ship.
Yorktown
shudders, the damage control screen automatically overriding on my left, red splotches showing.
"Five outer hull breaches," Petty Officer Jordan is remarkably calm. "Inner hull secure." Exactly what I see. Yorktown's ‘tween hulls space is divided into small compartments, much like her internal structure, to keep damage isolated. Fine until either there are too many punctures and the structure collapses or a second hit on an outer hull breach causes an inner hull penetration and decompression within the ship.
We can see
Orion
's starboard side now, three laser cannons open to space. Mighty inviting targets, but scarey big sized relative to what we're used to seeing.
"McAdams, port broadside, target weapons only, all cannons fire." I try to use my calm voice, but I know it was a little on the excited side.
She doesn't respond, but there is an instantaneous flicker of the lights on the bridge as the ship unleashes the stored up energy in its cannons. She must have had her finger sitting on the button, the barrage already programmed.
The center cannon of
Orion
's starboard broadside explodes outward, direct hit, and we get an unusual rainbow of color on the video feed a couple meters toward the stern. One of our cannons must have missed and the blast bounced off the side, but a light show from that is something else we've never seen before.
It's been 35 seconds since we were hit the first time. Palmer estimated 40 seconds between shots on
Richard
.
"Mr. Garcia, engines to standby, activate jump engines, now!"
She complies, but doesn't respond, all of our sensors instantly go dark, we're blind, but hopefully protected within the jump field. The jump instruments register a sharp uptake in power, which dissipates over another five seconds. Jordan clarifies.