Battlecruiser Alamo: Operation Damocles Page 6

   “We'd welcome them,” Ryan said. “In a sense, they're our people.”

   “Sagdeev was dead when Alamo found it, the survivors evacuated to Jefferson. Then, of course, there was the Cabal.” Shaking his head, Salazar added, “A group of colonists who lucked out and found some alien technology they could use, and carved out a slave empire. We've come damn close to war with them more than once, and sooner or later it'll turn hot.”

   “Another reason to deal with the Xandari now,” Powell said. “We'd lose a war on two fronts.” Frowning, he continued, “I'd be lying if I said that the galaxy was peaceful. For every friend, we've found an enemy, but at least we're moving out again. After the Interplanetary War, it was a decade before we resumed deep space exploration. The United Nations are still reluctant, still licking their wounds from the defeat.”

   “I was reading about the War last night,” Ryan replied. “You fought that with the tactics used by the Neander, as I understand. Hit-and-run raids to cripple industry, rather than full fleet actions.”

   “Not quite true,” Salazar said, “though we had a tendency to lose major battles. The war was a stalemate, if I'm honest. Earth's economy was badly damaged, enough that their leaders sued for peace. They could have conquered us, but it would have cost far more than the plutocrats were willing to pay.”

   “It was a dirty war, that one,” Powell said. “I spent a couple of years on this ship, back when we were hitting convoys. Damn little honor in attacking civilian ships.” Shaking his head, he said, “And a decade of war had other effects. We came so close to falling off the edge, to turning into something that would have made fighting the war pointless. Three attempts at military coups, more subtle infiltration that damn near worked. When a whole generation is sucked up by a war, everyone becomes a casualty, one way or another. You can't escape it. Only survive it.”

   “Copernicus is on the front line,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “We always thought we were blessed, but I guess we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A key strategic asset.” With a sigh, he said, “Can we beat them?”

   “This battle?” Salazar replied. “Certainly. We've faced worse odds. The war, well, that's another question entirely. All I know is that we've got no choice. The Xandari have made it quite clear that anyone not of their race will be enslaved or exterminated.”

   “Their core philosophy is far simpler than anything we have,” Powell added. “The strong live, and the weak die. That doesn't leave much room for negotiation. We've got to beat them, and sufficiently decisively to make sure they can't threaten the galaxy again. Perhaps if we show them that we are the stronger, they'll yield.”

   “That's a little optimistic, Professor,” Salazar replied.

   His face dropping into a sad frown, he answered, “The alternative, Pavel, is far worse. So terrible that simply contemplating it is one of the greatest sins imaginable. I only pray that we find a way to live with them, somehow.”

   “We've got to win the war, first,” Ryan said.

   “Don't worry,” Salazar said, clapping him on the shoulder. “The cavalry's coming. Just three days, and we'll be down in that city of yours having the party of our lives.”

   “I hope so,” he replied. “I truly hope so.”

  Chapter 7

   “The ship is cleared for action,” Scott said, turning from her station. Harper nodded, her eyes locked on the viewscreen, scanning the projected tactical display generated from Ryan's report. Much of it was guesswork, presumptions of Xandari behavior based on their prior encounters, and she had little confidence that theory would match reality. They'd displayed far too much tactical acuity for that, had confounded Alamo and her crew at every turn.

   Tapping a control, she brought up their planned attack path. Despite all of the flourishes she'd added it, it was really very simple. Race towards the planet at full speed, shooting at any targets of opportunity and trying not to be attacked in turn, before heading back to the other hendecaspace point, leading the enemy a merry enough dance that they'd be drawing them in towards Alamo and the fleet when it arrived.

   While they were running the gauntlet, their sensors would be soaking in all the data they could gather, preparing a briefing to ensure that Captain Orlova was far better informed when she entered the system in a couple of hours. Turning to the rear, she saw Arkhipov hunched over his controls, setting up sensor runs based on the information they had. At least they knew where the space stations were, the key orbital satellite constellations.

   It had been two weeks since Ryan had left Copernicus, long enough that anything might have happened in the interim. The government might have been forced to surrender, left with no option but to yield to Xandari control, and a full defensive network could be in position. Alamo and her forces could never drive an entrenched force from a planet, and the only option left would be a desperate flight to safety. One which would leave Daedalus and the rest of the squadron in a perfect position for the Xandari to wipe them out.

   Over the viewscreen, a countdown clock started to tick down, beginning at three minutes and rapidly trickling away the seconds. Soon they'd be back in normal space, instantly in the thick of the action. Five days had seemed scant time to prepare for such an attack, but time had run out. She reached down to her console and flicked a switch.

   “Captain to crew,” she said, still hardly believing that she was in command. “All hands, attention. We'll be jumping to Copernicus in a matter of minutes, and while the details of the tactical situation are unclear, we do know that the enemy will be present in strength. Our job is to hold them long enough for the fleet to arrive and finish them off.” She paused, took a deep breath, and said, “If all goes well, we'll be heading home in a couple of weeks. Let's make this one count. Captain out.”

   “Not bad,” Scott said, shaking her head. “Short, at least.”

   “Long rants aren't my style,” she replied. “Midshipman, you have the call.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” Armstrong replied. “I have the call. Emergence in one hundred and forty seconds.”

   “Commence maximum acceleration as soon as we've entered the system, along the plotted course. We've got to be well clear of the egress point before the rest of the squadron arrives.” Turning back to Scott, she added, “Consider yourself authorized to fire at will. If anything's waiting for us, take it down.”

   “Missiles in the tubes, ready for launch on demand.”

   Nodding, Harper sat back in her chair, watching as the remaining seconds ticked away. Normally she felt a sense of exultation at entering a new system, exploring new worlds, but this time she felt nothing but impending doom. There was grave danger waiting for them, and Daedalus was awfully small to be the vanguard of the fleet.

   She looked around the bridge, at the ship status monitor. When the starship had been launched, the Interplanetary War was only the dream of a few starry-eyed idealists, the distant stars unimaginably distant. Now, decades later, the men who had designed her were long retired, or dead. She'd watched recordings of her launch, crowds cheering at the orbital station, speeches by forgotten political figures talking of the grand adventure to come.

   Now they were living it. In thirty seconds, they'd be entering unknown territory once again, knowing only that an enemy fleet was waiting for them, on sentry, ready to destroy them. She glanced down at the hastily-drafted mission plan, running through the time-line again. Daedalus first, followed by the Red Avenger and the Safe Margin at ten-second intervals. It might be worse for the others, lacking even the element of surprise as a distraction from attack.

   “Five seconds,” Armstrong said, hands poised over her controls. “All systems go.”

   “Hang on, everyone,” Harper muttered, and with a blinding flash, the stars reappeared, Daedalus emerging from hendecaspace. A green and blue jewel hung in the middle of the viewscreen, and a smile began to creep across her face. Ryan hadn't been exaggerating, not
for a second. Copernicus truly was a beautiful planet.

   “Data coming through now,” Arkhipov said. “I'm picking up sentinel satellites at both local emergence points, and two battlecruisers in synchronous orbit over Kepler City on the surface. We're reading an orbital defense network consisting of five satellites, uncompleted, and a large space station in low orbit.” He frowned, then added, “No smaller craft in local space, no sign of shuttles.”

   “Have the battlecruisers reacted to our arrival?” she asked.

   “No, ma'am,” he replied, “They're just sitting there.”

   “Come into my parlor,” Scott said.

   “Signal from the surface, ma'am!” Ingram said, as the main engines roared into life, sending the scoutship careening towards the planet. “President Wulf wishes to speak to our commanding officer.”

   “Put her on,” she replied. Nelyubov wouldn't be arriving for fifteen seconds, and each one might be important. The image of the system flickered off, replaced by a tall, aristocratic gray-haired woman wearing a formal suit, a blue and white flag draped behind her. Somehow, Harper felt as if her eyes were judging her, and that she had been found wanting. She glanced down at her uniform jumpsuit, wishing for the first time that she was wearing her dress uniform.”

   “This is President Wulf, of Copernicus Colony. To whom am I speaking?”

   “Lieutenant Kristen Harper, commander of the Triplanetary Starship Daedalus. I warn you now, ma'am, that I can provide no strategic or tactical data over this channel.” She glanced across at the communications station, and continued, “I must assume that this communication is being monitored.”

   “I concur,” she replied. “We will transmit our tactical data to you immediately, and I will for the present content myself by wishing you and your crew the best of luck. I have brought our armed forces to their maximum alert, and if there is any way we can assist you, contact me at once. Bonne chance.”

   “Thank you, Madam President,” Harper replied. “Daedalus out.” Turning to Scott, she asked, “What are we getting?”

   “Nothing immediately useful,” Scott said, scanning over the data. “Give me a couple of hours and I might be able to work something out, but we'll be in combat range in ten minutes.”

   “Safe Margin has emerged, Captain,” Arkhipov reported. “Getting a fuller picture of the system now. There's an installation on the next planet in towards the local sun, definitely Xandari in origin. Also reading substantial facilities on the moon.” Turning to her, he said, “They've brought their orbital defenses online.”

   “Still nothing from the battlecruisers?” Harper asked.

   Shaking her head, Scott said, “We're no real threat to them, and they know it. My guess is that they're assuming we're playing a bluff, and reacting accordingly.” Looking up at a panel, she continued, “This isn't working.”

   “Red Avenger is late,” Arkhipov added. “Ten seconds and counting. We're already pulling ahead of the formation.”

   A grim smile on her face, Harper said, “Ingram, contact the Xandari. I know they don't usually respond to our messages, but make sure they can hear me.”

   Nodding, the communications technician replied, “You're on, ma'am.”

   Sitting tall in her chair, Harper said, “This is Commodore Kristen Harper, commanding the Triplanetary Destroyer Daedalus. I call upon you to surrender, or I will be forced to destroy your craft.” With a smile, she added, “Naturally, I don't expect you to reply, but the rules of war force me to give you this one warning. I would strongly urge you to take advantage of it. Daedalus out.”

   “Commodore Harper?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow. “They'll have everything they need to know about our ship in their database already. This isn't going to work.”

   “It doesn't have to,” she replied, stepping up to the viewscreen. “Ingram, contact Safe Margin, and tell them that we're moving to an alternate target, and that they are to follow our lead.” Frowning, she continued, “We can't wait for Red Avenger. She's forty seconds late and counting.”

   “Where are we going?”

   “Armstrong, I want a course for the processing plant on the moon. Set up for an attack run, as low as you dare. Arkhipov, start looking for defenses. They might have a missile emplacement.”

   “Signal from Safe Margin,” Ingram reported.

   “Put him on.”

   The face of a fuming Koltoc appeared on the screen, saying, “That facility is our property!”

   “Right now, it's in the hands of the Xandari, and I don't think they're going to give it up without a fight. If we manage nothing else today, we've got to restrict their efforts to strengthen this system. That means robbing them of their fuel supply.”

   “When I speak to Senior Lieutenant Nelyubov...”

   “Do what you wish, Captain, but I warn you now that if you choose not to follow my lead, you'll be pressing your attack by yourselves. Daedalus out.”

   “Red Avenger now one minute late,” Scott said, shaking her head. “I'm reconfiguring our missiles for surface bombardment, but I don't think they're going to be very effective. We don't have the ordnance for the job.”

   “Just make a mess, Kat. That's all we need.” Looking at the image of the battlecruisers again, she added, “Come on, you bastards. This base holds your life's blood. You aren't going to let it fall without a fight, are you?”

   As if in answer to her protest, updated course plots began to seep onto the screen, the two battlecruisers firing their engines to place themselves on an intercept course with Daedalus, just short of the moon. One swung back to attack Safe Margin, while the other remained focused on them. Rubbing her hands together, she sat back in her chair, a smile on her face.

   “If they want to dance, let's play along. More speed, Midshipman.”

   “Ma'am, Safe Margin is veering off, heading for the shadow of the second moon.”

   “Fine by me,” Harper replied. “That should confuse them nicely.”

   “Dimensional instability, close abaft!” Arkhipov said. “It's the Red Avenger!”

   “A hundred seconds late, but I'll live with it,” Harper replied.

   “Signal coming through,” Ingram said.

   Nelyubov's face appeared on the main screen, and he said, “Just out of interest, what happened to the battle plan?”

   “It got overtaken by events, sir,” she replied. “We're trying to draw them in towards the moon. It's not perfect, but it's better than leaving them behind the defense net.” Looking at the sensor display, at the tracks of the Xandari battlecruisers, she added, “And it looks like...”

   “You've made a hole large enough for us to sneak in and knock out one of those satellites,” he said. “Good work, Lieutenant, though try and warn me first next time. Red Avenger out.”

   “He didn't say why he was late,” Armstrong said, shaking her head. “If they've got some sort of malfunction, we need to know about it.”

   Shaking her head, Harper replied, “He did it on purpose, to throw off the Xandari. No need for us to know ahead of time, for fear it would have influenced our strategy. Sneaky.” Turning to Scott, she asked, “How are those modifications coming?”

   “Just about ready, but I don't think we're going to get a good shot at a firing pass. They'll be on us twenty seconds before launch.”

   Her smile growing, Harper asked, “How extensive were those changes?”

   “Just guidance system updates. Nothing much. Why?”

   “Any reason you can't send them running back towards the battlecruiser?”

   Scott returned Harper's smile, and replied, “No good reason that I can think of, skipper. I'll get working on it right away.”

   Harper nodded, then turned back to the sensor display, watching as the five trajectory tracks danced across the system. They still had one battlecruiser diving towards them, grimly attempting to stop them attacking thei
r fuel dump. One glance at the trajectory plot confirmed that the enemy ship wouldn't make it in time, and the thought of the enemy commander cursing that he didn't attack the scoutships at once brought a brief smile to her face.

   The second had a less decisive commander. Initially, she headed towards the Safe Margin, but was now firing its engines at full power to bring itself back towards the planet, trying for an intercept with Red Avenger. Though it might just manage to reach it first, the course it would be on took them safely away from the planet, scattering the Xandari forces far and wide.

   Tapping a series of controls, she smiled. The two commanders were hedging their bets in the event of the imminent arrival of a larger force, but Alamo and the rest of the fleet wouldn't be in the system for two hours. By then, they'd be a couple of hundred thousand miles apart, and would find it impossible to provide mutual support.

   Though as she watched, she realized they might do a little better than that, after all. Her eyes widened as she saw the Xandari pursuer set up for his attack run, slowing to the point that he'd be a little below escape velocity of the moon. Naturally, in a few seconds he could ramp up the acceleration again, blast away to safety, but if something was to happen to his engines, that option would disappear from the table.

   “Contact Safe Margin,” she said. “If they break right now, they'll be in position for a sucker punch on our stalker. They'll have to move, though.”

   “On it,” Ingram replied, and after a few seconds, the Koltoc craft turned around in silent agreement, moving into a long, slow curve that would give them a critical window of opportunity. Scott worked furiously at her controls, frantically working to set up for their attack run, now less than a minute away.