Valor At Vauzlee (12 page)

"Com, put me on ship-wide speakers."

"You're on ship-wide, captain."

"Attention crew of the Prometheus. We've received a distress call from a convoy under attack by Raiders and we're proceeding there at top speed. ETA is eleven minutes. Clear for action."

The dozen fire control centers located along the center axis of the ship came alive as the specialists rushed in and manned their consoles. The placement of the console had nothing to do with the location of the weapon each laser array team would control. The weapons control computer would assign an array based on the simulation scores of each team once they had taken their places at a console and the computer had polled their IDs. The system would alternate a good team with one that wasn't quite as good, meaning that a poor team would have a much better team on either side. The overlap of the weapons fire meant that the chances of a torpedo getting through were therefore much less likely than if several teams with low scores happened to be located together.

~ March 26
^th
, 2268 ~

"The Janice just took a serious hit, Commodore," the com operator announced nervously. "It knocked out two of her larboard tubes. Twelve crewmen are missing. Either vaporized or possibly sucked out the hole made by the torpedo."

"Damn," Commodore Blosset said. He had already lost mental count of the number of dead and wounded. The casualties were mounting too quickly. There were just too many damn Raider ships.

"Perhaps it's time to consider another option, Commodore," Commander Schwann said weakly from his chair next to the Commodore, "while our temporal field generator is still intact."

Commodore Blosset saw the desperation in his eyes, and heard the hint of fear in his voice. "You mean run away?"

"We're as good as dead if we remain here, sir. Either the Raiders will kill us, or they'll enslave us, which means we might as well be dead. We still have a chance to get away if we go now. We have no chance of surviving if we remain here. They're killing us, bit by bit."

"We took an oath to protect our client's property, even if it means we have to die trying."

"We're supposed to die for a load of refuse that most people wouldn't hesitate to toss down the nearest waste disposal chute? I saw some of that stuff being packed. It's old belt buckles, food containers, disposable baby diapers complete with fossilized fecal matter, glass and plastic beverage bottles, bits of plastic, and anything else that hasn't rotted or corroded completely away on Mawcett in twenty-thousand years."

"It's not our job to put a value on it, Kyle."

"What if the freighter captain agrees to drop his cargo and make a run for it? Chances are the Raiders won't follow us. They just want the cargo."

"The freighter isn't a Peabody ship. If they want to drop their cargo and run, they can. We'll stay here and protect the cargo to the last Peabody ship. Now get a hold of yourself."

"Aye, sir," Commander Schwann said meekly as he slumped back into his chair. The gunners and guidance people at least had something to occupy their minds. All he could do was sit there, helpless, sweating, and wringing his hands while watching the systematic destruction and waiting for his end.

* * *

At Light-375, it took the Prometheus slightly less than eleven minutes to traverse the seventy-two-billion kilometers to the ambush area once their DATFA envelope was formed. The small, thirty-eight-centimeter monitor screen mounted on the left arm of both the command chair and the first officer's chair showed battle site image assembled by the DeTect system. Clarity improved as the distance lessened and sampling increased.

A hundred-thousand km from the outer ring of Raider ships, the helmsman dropped the envelope and brought the six gargantuan stern-mounted sub-light engines on-line. The battleship immediately began accelerating to Sub-Light-10 at a phenomenal rate. As they moved towards the battle action, Gavin sized up the situation and made his final attack decisions. The enemy ships were deployed just as Carver had predicted, in a huge circle roughly twenty to twenty-five-thousand kilometers from the freighter. The sensors at the tactical station recorded forty-one Raider warships, mostly destroyer-sized craft, but there were a couple of frigates, half a dozen cruisers, and two older battleships; one of Tsgardi design, and the other an Uthlaro-built ship. The Peabody destroyers were using their ships to shield the freighter and firing their torpedoes as fast as their tubes could be loaded.

The Raider ships were likewise filling space between the combatants with a deadly arsenal. So far each side was doing a pretty adequate job of knocking down the other's missiles, judging from the prodigious number of heat trails and limited number of observed impacts, but that was changing slightly as the fight progressed. Each successful blow either reduced defensive energy weapons, destroyed torpedo tubes, or removed gunners from the equation.

Jenetta had to admire the loyalty and tenacity of the Peabody forces. Less dedicated captains might have decided to abandon an effort that appeared doomed to such obvious failure.

Gavin, still on ship-wide broadcast, said, "Helm, attack plan Carver-One. Larboard torpedo gunners, concentrate on the battleships and cruisers first. Laser gunners, hold your fire until I give the word."

With the mention of her name as part of the battle plan, Jenetta sat up a little straighter. Gavin had obviously decided to use the strategy she proposed. By appending her name, he was giving her full credit for the plan. On the down side, if it didn't work well, everyone would know whom to blame.

At five-thousand kilometers outside the ring of Raider ships, the helmsman reduced speed to Sub-Light-3 and took the ship on a counter-clockwise, mildly undulating course around the outside of the battle zone. The image on the huge viewscreen at the front of the bridge remained a wide angle view of the battle from sensors on the larboard side of the ship, with the Peabody convoy in the dead center. Torpedo heat trails could be seen radiating away from the Prometheus' eight larboard tubes as the first spread of missiles left the ship.

Gavin had decided to use the deadliest of available fusion warheads on the torpedoes for this engagement. High-explosive heads were only effective when the torpedo's hardened casing was able to penetrate the opposing ship's armor. Although the high velocity of Space Command's torpedoes usually enabled them to penetrate the enemy ship, and even travel as much as fifty-meters into the ship before detonating, nuclear weapons didn't need to penetrate. They were designed to detonate just outside the enemy's hull, as close as practicable. All the weapon had to do was reach the ship being targeted. The fusion warheads were significantly more powerful than fission warheads, so any torpedoes that penetrated the geyser of defensive fire issuing from the targeted ship would accomplish their mission.

As Jenetta had speculated, the Prometheus, moving now at just three-thousand kps, managed to knock out one of the Raider battleships before the Raiders even realized she was there.

Proximity triggers are supposed to detonate the weapon immediately next to the target, but the first of the four torpedoes launched at the enemy battleship had a faulty trigger. The deadly missile actually penetrated the hull of the aging Uthlaro-built battleship before detonating. In the vacuum of space, there is no fire, flame, noise, or smoke from a nuclear detonation. One only sees an incredibly bright flash for a fraction of second, as if someone flicked a powerful spotlight on and then immediately off. When the detonation properly occurs next to the hull, the skin of the ship begins to vaporize from the heat while impulsive shock effect crushes anything along the leading edge of the blast. X-ray radiation then courses through any direct path no longer protected by shielding. If the enemy survives the heat, the crushing effect of the blast, and the loss of atmosphere, many will die or begin the slow, painful march towards death as their bodies are irradiated by lethal doses of unseen rays. War is indeed hell.

When the first torpedo unexpectedly entered the battleship, a number of accepted conventions could be immediately discounted. There was the brilliant flash, but there was also fire and flame, if just for an instant, as the atmosphere and materials inside the ship combusted. There was no need for the other three warheads, as everyone inside the battleship died almost immediately from the concussive force, but the other torpedoes did explode just outside where the hull of the battleship should have been.

With those first detonations, Gavin ordered all laser array gunners to fire at will. The fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth torpedoes from the Prometheus' larboard tubes hadn't even reached their targets before the Prometheus' torpedo gunners launched a new salvo of death.

* * *

Sir, we're under attack!" the tactical officer aboard the second Raider battleship, Rising Star, shouted to his captain.

"Of course we're under attack, you fool," Captain Fulker responded. "This is a battle. Did you really expect them to simply surrender?"

"No sir. But I meant we're under attack from someone outside our perimeter."

"What?!" Captain Fulker shouted. "Where? Who?"

"It's big, sir; real big. It must be a battleship. It has to be Space Command."

"That's impossible. We'd have been notified if there were any patrols in this area."

"They just destroyed the Soul Harvester with four torpedoes. Command of the task force has passed to you, sir."

"The Soul Harvester is gone?"

"Yes, sir. Annihilated with nuclear torpedoes."

"Nuclear? Com, notify all ships that a Space Command battleship has just appeared outside our perimeter. Every resource not being directed at the convoy is to be directed at that ship."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"Commodore," the tactical officer aboard the Peabody Clarice said, "another ship has just appeared outside the ring of circling ships. We're now facing forty-two Raider warships. And the new one is really huge. It must be another battleship."

‘
This just keeps getting better and better
,' Commodore Blosset thought. ‘
Maybe I
should
consider a tactical withdrawal of my remaining forces
.'

"Commodore!" the tactical officer shouted, bringing Blosset up out of his reverie, "One of the Raider battleships just exploded."

"Who got him?!" Blosset shouted. "When we get out of this, that gunner gets an extra month's pay."

"Wait a minute. Sir, are any of our torpedoes nuclear?"

"No, of course not. Only Space Command is permitted to possess nuclear warheads. We're restricted to high explosive warheads."

"The destroyed battleship was targeted with four nuclear torpedoes. There goes another one, no, two more. Two of the Raider cruisers were just killed by nuclear torpedoes."

"Who in the hell is firing nuclear torpedoes?" Blosset shouted.

"The ship that just arrived is squawking her Ident, sir," the com operator said. "She's the GSC Battleship Prometheus. She must be the one that killed the three Raider ships."

"GSC? Prometheus? Kyle, isn't that one of the stolen GSC ships that Carver recovered from the Raiders when she destroyed their base?"

"Aye, sir!" Commander Schwann said excitedly. All trace of defeat had evaporated from his eyes, to be replaced by unbridled optimism. "You were right, sir. We do have our own Jenetta Carver, in the form of the battleship she recovered from the Raiders."

* * *

Once the ship's presence was known, the laser gunners aboard the Prometheus were free to pound the fleet of Raider ships with deadly fire from their massive hundred-gigawatt phased array lasers until the Raiders began to target them with torpedoes. And for a few minutes they rained an incredible amount of destructive energy down upon the pirate fleet. But the two Raider cruisers had barely joined their commanding battleship in ignoble death when a torrent of torpedoes began streaming towards the Prometheus. The laser gunners immediately halted their efforts to punch holes in the Raider ships and began targeting the horde of incoming torpedoes. Jenetta was able to take some small comfort in the fact that every torpedo fired at the Prometheus was one less available for targeting the civilian convoy, but it was a small comfort.

From the moment the Prometheus left Vauzlee orbit, Jenetta's presence on the bridge was otiose. She had worked tirelessly to prepare the crew for battle, but now was relegated to the position of observer while all around her the bridge crew stared intensely at their monitors, assiduously manipulated controls on their consoles, or called out information to the Captain. Everyone was so busy— so occupied— so totally immersed in their tasks— while all she could do was sit there and watch. As second in command, she was naturally prepared to take over if something happened to the captain, but at this moment she felt about as useful as a shattered coffee mug.

Even the Captain, who was in command of the ship's actions, had a limited role once the attack plan had been decided upon and activated. He sat instantly ready to issue new orders if the situation changed, but otherwise he was mainly a spectator as the skill of his torpedo gunners, guidance specialists, and laser array gunners largely determined the outcome of this particular battle.

With everyone so preoccupied with their tasks, there seemed little chance that anyone would notice her comportment, but Jenetta nonetheless struggled to maintain a perfectly imperturbable appearance, giving the distinct impression that there was no question in her mind that they would be both victorious, and escape the carnage unscathed. She hoped that no one noticed the way she was gripping the chair arms with her hands. With little else to do, she concentrated on relaxing her fingers, thus quashing even that vestige of anxiety as she watched the battle unfold.