Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) (20 page)

“
Our
government?” Davis asked. “I wasn’t aware New America had seceded from the Confederacy.”

“Coms, send the following reply,” Jackson said. “This is Captain Wolfe aboard the Terran Confederate warship,
Ares
. As we are currently in a state of declared war with the Phage, please confirm your status. Are you no longer a part of the Confederacy? Send.”

“Message sent, sir.”

“OPS, put a plot on the main display of the
Icarus
’
s
projected course,” Jackson said. “Also, tell engineering that we’ll be powering up all the tactical systems shortly.”

“Do you really think it will come to a shoot out?” Davis asked.

“This is all just posturing,” Jackson said. “Right now, we’re acting like we’re trying to hide. When they message back with another threatening order they don’t actually expect us to follow, we’ll power up all our combat systems and begin powering down the well at full acceleration. They know they have the numerical advantage right now, but they also know there could be an entire armada sitting outside the system waiting to short-jump in.”

“All the while, we’re nothing more than a distraction.” Davis nodded.

“Exactly,” Jackson said. “We’ve got to sell it better than just sitting in the outer system transmitting insults to them, or they’ll begin to suspect the real attack is coming from somewhere else. If we look like we’re committing to an engagement, the commanding officer will have no choice but to redeploy his ship to respond. That clears the way for the
Icarus
and keeps them from looking too closely as the troop pods move in.”

“We’re getting resolution on the ships sitting in orbit with the shipyard complex, sir,” Barrett said. “Populating the threat board now.”

The main display showed three destroyers and two cruisers flying in loose formation with the New Sierra Shipyards as it swung around the fourth planet in the system.

“That’s a lot less than I expected for such a strategically important target.” Jackson rubbed his chin. “Our two destroyers are more than a match for that entire formation if the class designators are correct.”

“They’ve had control of the facility for over two months,” Davis pointed out. “Maybe they repositioned their ships when their delegates announced New America wouldn’t be providing support to CENTCOM.”

“No, something else is going on,” Jackson said. “Tactical, go full active. I want this entire system scanned.”

“Aye, sir,” Barrett said.

“I know this is ruining the charade, but I feel like there’s a significant piece of information we’re missing,” Jackson explained. “If they have a com platform in orbit over the third planet while it’s on the other side of the primary—”

“New transponder signals coming in, Captain!” Barrett nearly shouted. “Eleven Fourth Fleet warships have just arrived in-system with us.”

“And there we are,” Jackson said with disgust, “the missing piece.”

Chapter 12

The DeLonges star system was a Holy Grail find when humans first began mapping the space around them using Alpha Centauri as an epicenter. Established by the New America enclave, and named for a long-forgotten nineteenth century explorer, the system boasted two planets of similar size and climate capable of sustaining human life: DeLonges and New Sierra. It also had two dense asteroid belts rife with the raw materials needed for starship construction, most notably iron ore.

It was the often overlooked planet of DeLonges that was causing Jackson Wolfe so much trouble. All his planning had assumed Fourth Fleet would mass their forces as close to the shipyards as they could. After all, that’s what he would do. Since they were flying into the system from above the ecliptic, he never considered the fact that his counterpart commanding the Fourth Fleet elements would also try a bit of misdirection.

“It looks like the new arrivals were maintaining a heliosynchronous orbit on the far side of DeLonges,” Barrett said as his tactical plots updated. “They were stacked up to offer a minimal profile from the direction of the Haven jump point and using the planet to shield them.”

“In other words, they knew exactly where we’d be coming from,” Davis said.

“Let’s all calm down,” Jackson said sternly. “It wouldn’t take a tactical genius to know that any force CENTCOM sent was most likely going to deploy from Haven. The mission is still a go, so let’s analyze and adapt. Have we been able to resolve the new ships?”

“Yes, sir,” Barrett said. “Two fleet carriers, four missile cruisers, and five long-haul replenishing ships. I’ll have class designators and ship registries shortly.”

“Five cargo haulers,” Jackson drummed his fingers on the armrest in a rapid staccato. “So their strategy relies on bluffing us with numbers along with the element of surprise by making it look like we’ve flown into a trap. Tactical, begin tracking all ships and broadcasting the data to both troop pods and the
Icarus
. Let’s not show our hand until we’re sure what they know. The carriers and cargo ships are no threat, but four missile cruisers can cause us some trouble depending on what they’re carrying.”

“New message coming in, sir,” Keller said. “Text only. It’s just repeating the previous order.”

“So let’s send our response,” Jackson said. “Sound general quarters, set condition 1SS, and prepare the
Ares
for battle. Tactical, I want continuous full power sweeps of the system, and don’t bother trying to disguise your targeting scans. Nav! Plot me a course further down into the system that puts us in between the two Fourth Fleet forces. Helm, you’re clear to engage on the new course, ahead three quarters.”

“Ahead three quarters, aye.”

“More misdirection, sir?” Davis said.

Normally Jackson would be beyond irritated with an XO that asked so many questions, but moving Lieutenant Davis to this position had been his decision, and with as little command experience as she had telling her to sit quietly wouldn’t bring her up to speed any faster. So he took the opportunity to train her on the job while things were relatively quiet.

“More of a distraction,” Jackson corrected. “Trying to find the
Icarus
would be difficult while she’s running silent, and tracking the stealth troop pods would be even more so, but there’s little chance of picking any of them out of all the noise we’re broadcasting into the system. Not only that, but I can’t imagine the New American commander is that comfortable with a
Starwolf
-class destroyer bearing down on, them despite their numerical advantages. They’ll know, as we do, that unless those cruisers are loaded with the most advanced ship-to-ship missiles available, cornering us into an engagement will be costly.”

“Another incoming message, Captain,” Keller said.

“Read it out loud, Mr. Keller,” Jackson said.

Keller read from his display. “Message starts:
TCS
Ares
, you are ordered to withdraw from New America sovereign space immediately. Lack of compliance will result in use of force. Message ends.”

“Transmit this, audio only.” Jackson stood and turned around to face his com officer. “This is Captain Wolfe. According to the Articles of Confederation, section seventeen under reciprocity of military force, any and all Seventh Fleet warships are to be accorded safe passage through any Confederated star system or enclave. Your statement of sovereignty begs the question: do you speak for the New American government in declaring yourselves no longer part of the Terran Confederacy. Be advised I am prepping a com drone for Haven now for my own clarification.
Ares
out.”

“Message sent,” Keller said with a grin.

“That should buy us a bit more time as they try to figure out a way to walk that back without looking like a bunch of amateurs,” Jackson said to Davis as he sat back down. “Helm! All ahead full. Tactical, begin acquiring target locks on all the Fourth Fleet missile cruisers and no need to be subtle about it. OPS, how long until the troop pods will begin their final course correction and decel?”

“Two hours, sixteen minutes, sir.”

“Nav, send an acceleration plot to the helm that puts us outside the orbit of the sixth planet, roughly equidistant to both… opposing fleets,” Jackson said, catching himself before he said ‘enemy’ while he studied the tactical display. “Helm, you’re free to execute at will.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the helmsman said.

“We’ll still need to find a way to keep their attention focused on us without actually engaging them.” Jackson paced the area in front of the command chair. “If we could pull those units away from the shipyards, that would be preferable. Suggestions?”

“I think I have an idea, Captain,” Barrett said.

****

“What can you make out, Specialist?” Lieutenant Commander Amiri Essa asked over the “open” channel in the pod.

The insertion vehicle didn’t have full time artificial gravity (it barely had heat), so they were all strapped in securely as they cold coasted down the well toward the New Sierra Shipyards.

“It’s all a jumble, sir,” the specialist first class said from the pod’s very basic com station. “Captain Wolfe appears to be trying to draw off the Fourth Fleet units with verbal insults, but I think I’m only getting half the conversation. We may not be receiving the transmissions from the ships near DeLonges.”

“Understood,” Amiri said. “Time check?”

“Ten minutes, forty-eight seconds to decel,” the specialist answered.

The Chief strapped in beside Amiri bellowed, “Final gear check! Weapons safe until after impact.”

“I wish you’d use another word for that, Chief,” a young spacer said from the back of the pod.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Chief said contritely. “How about, ‘shut the fuck up and check your gear like I said.’ Does that work for you?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Cut the chatter,” Amiri said conversationally, silencing his entire team immediately. “Chief Lund, please check that the breaching charges are secured before we begin decel.”

“Yes, sir.” The Chief popped his restraints off and floated over to the armored hatch at the front of the pod to double check that the optional explosive breachers were secured.

“Thirty seconds!” the specialist at the console shouted. “Standby for final decel! Impact with objective hull in four minutes!”

“Lock seats in reverse position!” Amiri called out.

Everyone in the pod swiveled and locked their seats so that their backs were facing the direction of travel, the best way to absorb the impact that was coming.

Thirty seconds later, the disorienting, conflicting pulls of an artificial gravity field formed, just before the powerful retro rockets fired, violently slowing their decent toward the shipyards. The pods were built for stealth and survivability of healthy young special operators, not comfort.

The NOVAs were subjected to forces in excess of ten G’s as the motors continued to burn, the attitude thrusters firing constantly to control their decent as they scrubbed off the incredible velocity they’d inherited from the
Ares
.

“Thirty seconds to impact!” the specialist wheezed into his headset.

Everyone in the pod grunted and squeezed their core muscles as hard as they could as the retro motors throttled up for one last, intense burst before the nose of the craft slammed into the hull of the upper shipyard hard enough to snap everyone’s heads back into the seat rests. The shock absorbers on the nose did an admirable job of soaking up the last bit of relative velocity, and by the time the team was shaking their heads and taking stock of their bodies, the lights ringing the forward hatch were blinking amber, indicating the pod was anchored securely, and they were clear to breach.

“Weapons hot! Lock and load!” Chief Lund tore his headset off and jammed his helmet on.

“Rat! Position check,” Amiri called out to the thin faced specialist at the control console.

“Off target by seven meters!” Rat called back. “We’re still on top of that service bay, sir. Clear to breach.”

“Give me a go, no-go!” Amiri shouted as he popped his restraints and grabbed his own helmet. After twenty-four “go” calls, he put on his own helmet and cycled the action on his carbine.

“Breach! Breach! Breach!”

At his command, there were a series of muffled
whumps
just outside the hatch, and smoke began curling in through the atmospheric ducts.

“We didn’t make it all the way through.” Rat’s voice came over the team channel in everyone’s helmets. “Firing secondary charges.”

Whump… whump… WHUMP!

“We’re though! Purging airlock and opening hatch!”

The air pumps hissed as they blew compressed air through the forward airlock to clear out the smoke and debris. The hatch popped and swung out of the way. Amiri shouldered his way past Chief Lund and Rat in order to get the first view of where they were. Inside the service bay they’d blasted into, there was the expected dust, a few small fires, and klaxon alarms blaring loudly, but no armed party intent on repelling them.

“Go! Go! Go!” He jumped off the airlock platform and onto the deck of the New Sierra Shipyards. “Colt! Get to that panel and upload the package now!”

At his command, a short, stout specialist sprinted for the command terminal that was beside the entry hatch. He pulled out a specialized tile with a trailing lead and made a hard connection to the terminal. Amiri deployed his team to cover all the entrances and waited tensely. If the codejack program that smart ass CIS spook had given him failed to gain them control of the shipyard’s automated defense functions, this would be an unbelievably short mission.

“We’re in, sir!” Colt disconnected the lead and navigated through the menus on the tile. “I have command access to most of the subsystems we’ll need, but I wasn’t able to deactivate the small arms aboard.”

“One thing at a time.” Amiri walked over to look at the tile’s display. “Kill all the alarms on this deck, and seal all the hatches to both Marine garrisons… That should cut down on how many of those apes we’ll have to deal with. I also need confirmation that the Black Fleet crews are still aboard their ships.”

“Working on it, sir,” Colt said.