Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1 (24 page)

"We performed 250,000 simulations, and came to the most probable solution." She ran it through the computer, but still made the models rather than show me the printout. Don't know if I should be happy or insulted.
She puts the first "castle" down on a red circle, which has a number underneath that would make it a sub-planetary body 300 million kilometers from the explosion site, in the next primary orbital path out from where we are.
"There's a base here. Sub-planetary body Gamma Nu 049. The four
Fitzgerald
s operate from it." She plops their little models down next to the castle, sorry, asteroid. "
Opportunity
comes to visit sometimes, jumps in and out here, still doing T jumps only." She puts the big cargo ship model near to the sun. "We calculate that based on the energy trails and their predominate pattern relative to the sun. None of the
Fitzgerald
type energy signatures ever approach the star."
The planetoid is about the size of Earth's moon, surrounded by it's own ring system of asteroids and dust.
"We believe
Opportunity
has departed the system, and that it's us versus the four smaller cargo ships at the present time. No way to tell if they know we are here, or if they know we have found the corvettes and they are still functional." She pauses, I float over to her side of the table.
Now it's my turn to play with the toys. "So we put
Yorktown
here." I move the model to a point a couple hours flying time from the base. "And try to get the enemy ships to respond. We send the corvettes here," I move the models to the far side of the base, "with the ZR loaded with Marines."
McAdams is depressed, it clearly never occurred to her to make a little tiny corvette ZR- 1.
"If we can get two or three of the Fitzgerald's to take the bait, we storm the base, capture everyone and everything, and
Yorktown
blows the Fitz's into their respective subatomic particles."
"Aye, sir," McAdams continues my thought, "though those four ships, based on the gun cameras from
Congress
, have four cannons each of the 42 inch variety, and they are more maneuverable than the ships we've had to fight."
"Agreed, Ensign, but they also have zombies at the controls. We'll use that to our advantage, we'll make them fly through Kasserine Pass." I point to a spot on her map. "That would seem to be right about here."
She looks at the picture and thinks for a minute.
"Mines?"
"Aye, Ensign, mines. Plot a course for the mine layer, minimize the possibility that it would be visible on sensors from that base. Do the same for the corvettes, including the ZR, from our present position.
Yorktown
will do an intrasystem jump, plot a course that gets us to the sun without being seen, then jump us to where we need to be on your map."
She's smiling. "Aye, sir, aye. I assume you want us to be seen after the jump."
"That's the idea, Courtney. Within the hour, please. My ready room."
She comes back with the plan in the new school way, math on a pad, no sigils. It will take 32 hours to get the mines laid and the Marines and their escorts into position to assault the base. We have the blueprints of the dome, a standard geodesic model used throughout Union space for bases this size. Every Marine in the universe has practiced assaulting them, and most of them actually have.
Takes me 32 seconds to get Shelby, Ayala, Summerlin, Maxwell, Rivera, Palmer, and Ramos to join us. Thirty two minutes to go through the details of the plan. It's simple really, provided the bad guys do what we want.
We'll make
Yorktown
visible by jumping her in roughly 200,000 kilometers from the base in an area populated with many large asteroids, our missile programmed to lay the mines in between the clusters. We'll stand there jumping up and down and waving, hoping the four ships come after us. Whatever the mines don't kill, our missiles will.
Palmer's Marine force will attack the base through it's main landing bay, with Marine Force Recon coming in through an escape hatch and attacking the rear. A lot of unknowns, including how many aliens are there, how many pirates (both conscious and drugged) are there, and how potent the weapons stash is. My guess is that we'll be up against a small number of folks with very tough weapons.
Palmer and Ramos are of a like mind, they're going in heavy.
"Let me give everyone a couple of reminders." It's time to finish and get to work, but I don't say it that way.
"Number one, if more than one of the
Fitz
's stays behind to guard the base, the assault is delayed until
Yorktown
arrives on scene. If one stays behind, follow the plan to deal with it, do not get creative. Two, humans with hair are traitors, but they are knowledgeable traitors and we should try to capture them. Three, humans without hair are dying slowly, no chance of returning them to a functional state. Be humane, but not at the expense of your people."
"And finally, we'd like to take an alien or two home with us, but again, not at the expense of any living human being. Dead aliens are always welcome."
"Questions?" I look from eye to eye, there's an air of confidence and trust in them all despite most of them being recently almost dead, and the fact that Julio was here with us planning an attack not so long ago.
There are no questions.
"Assault task force is wheels up at 0800. Missile launch as soon as you're ready. Let's roll." It's 1500 now, that's plenty of time to finish prep and catch whatever sleep you can.
Once they clear out my ready room, I get into the computer and run battle sim after battle sim after battle sim. We don't know if the
Fitz
's are coated with anything, they sure didn't look like it in the video, but if we think they're not and they are, it will be a really bad day.
I've fought human pirate flown
Fitzgerald
's as commander of
Ayacucho
, so I know they stand up pretty well against an 18" cannon, but all the sims and my butt are in complete agreement that our 24's wouldn't have much trouble, and, of course, it's a total waste of firepower to send a nuclear missile against one ship that small. I make a mental note to recommend that someone invent a launcher for smaller missiles that fits in the firing tube for the bigger missiles for the frigate corps.
On the down side,
Yorktown
wouldn't survive long with 42" cannon hits from multiple directions simultaneously if the four bad guys manage to surround us. On the up side, they've got four cannons each, two port and two starboard, nothing front or rear mounted from what we can tell.
McAdams stirs me from my screens long enough to request missile launch permission. I pop out to the bridge to give my okay, and watch as compressed air ejects it from it's tube, followed by the Javelin's engine firing. Then I go back to my scenario building.
Eventually, I run out of new possibilities, float down to my quarters, strap myself in and get some sleep.
It's 0700 when I tie the hair down, drop by the mess for a tube of breakfast and get my butt to the bridge. Yes, I showered and put on a clean uniform too.
The three corvettes with names and our ZR are locked, loaded and ready to depart soon after, their crews except the Marines sleeping on board last night. Summerlin is in command until the assault begins, then it's Palmer's mission.
"Assault Task Force ready, request mission clearance." Summerlin, as always, can't keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Task Force cleared to go, good hunting Lieutenant," I do my best to sound the calm, cool captain.
The response is four sets of engines spooling up, and the boats heading out on a parabolic course designed to maximize the quantity of rocks between them and their target. I give them a quick salute for luck, then turn my attention to my ship.
"Mr. Garcia, get us to the jump point, course as approved, on your mark."
"Roger, departure on my mark."
We could get to the jump point in 12 hours, but that would mean engines live in open space between the planetoids and the sun. Instead, we're doing a relatively short acceleration until we clear the rocks, then going silent and, hopefully, invisible. Timed to get us a jump in 33 hours, one hour after the mines are laid and the Marines are ready.
Horns sound, five minutes. Garcia rotates the nose and exactly on cue we're shoved backwards into our couches. No more sims, back to reality, hoping I haven't pulled my team out of the proverbial fry pan to dump them into the alien fire.

Chapter 18

Nothing to do for more than a day while we float in free fall toward the sun, can't even finish my sleazy novel because I'm the captain and I can't violate the silent running code and use my pad for personal business.
So I build a battle plan for going to Gamma Upsilon once we're done with Nu, the main computers shielded and safe. Maybe I should consider adding a sleazy novel section to the flight management database. It does worry me that I haven't seen a cruiser battle group yet, and we're well past the time it would take to get here from California, so I'm working 100 percent on the assumption that karma will again leave us on our own and in the dark.
Two hours out I divert my attention and everyone on board's attention, back to making sure we're ready. Finally, it's time to go and we are approaching the jump point, though much more slowly than any of our recent jumps. Given that we're jumping seven light minutes instead of 200 light years, it will work just fine.
We're in our couches, battle suits on, double checking the gloves, necks, and boots are sealed. Velcro straps, but they mean the difference between life and death in a decompression. Helmets out from their stowage and attached to the couch. The simple act of clamping helmets into their locks and pulling the final straps across necks is enough to make everyone go quiet.
"Mr. Jordan," I do my best to be strong and quiet, "All cannons hot, open outer doors tubes three and four."
We can feel the vibrations as those orders are carried out. Jordan comes back, also quiet, not very strong. "All cannons report hot, doors three and four open, missiles to pre-launch configuration."
"Engineering, status?"
"We're go, Skipper." Powell via intercom.
"Jump engines active, one through four." Still my nice calm captain voice.
"Jump engines one through four report ready." Emily is calm, no one's tried to frak with her engines this trip.
"Mr. Garcia, set jump coordinates."
"Coordinates set."
"Mr. Hardy?" A little surprised that she doesn't have Marcos flying with her, but Hardy's a vet of many battles and perhaps she thinks this one won't be short and she'll need Marcos to rotate in.
"Coordinates confirmed." I run down the list of everyone who has to agree, they all do.
I enter my authorization code into the nav computer and press enter. Green lights go on. Another 10 seconds pass.
"One minute," Garcia lets us know what we all know, "Systems nominal."
"Twenty seconds, jump fields up."
It goes black on all the camera screens, everyone would sigh a little that it looks right, but that would not be good Navy.
"Ten seconds.... Five.... Jump....."
Nice and quiet, just the way it's supposed to be. The jump engines go off line, but not deactivated, I warned everyone to keep them ready just in case someone jumps us in the ambush sense immediately after we come out of our jump. It is, fortunately, unnecessary.
We're a couple hours at reasonable combat thrust from where we are sure the base is, our mines half way between it and us if their momma deposited them as planned.
"RISTA, quick passive scan please." Nothing for 10 or 15 long seconds.
"All scans negative, nothing on infrared, no radio signatures, nothing on visual." McAdams is her usual excited self.
"Roger that. Go active radar, three pings ensign, make sure they hear us. Visual on the base please."
"Affirmative. Active sensors, three pings. Main visual and radio telescopes on Gamma Nu 049."
At this distance, it's a couple light seconds to the base, so we'll know what happens almost as it actually does. McAdams is back in my ear in less than a minute.
"Four ships in close orbit to the asteroid, Skipper. Too much dust to be precise as to type, but definitely in the 30,000 ton range." That would be the
Fitz
's. Now we get to wait and see if they move, or we have to yell at them again.
I give them 10 minutes, they aren't budging.
"Mr. Garcia, zero point five gee, get us to 20,000 kph on course relative to the base."
"Roger. Accelerate to 20,000 kph, course toward 049." We've figured a course that keeps the optimal attack vector for them a transit through our mine field. Garcia has it up on her plotting board.
Yorktown
fires up on one engine only, my butt now experienced enough to recognize number one by it's vibration pattern. I think it's Emily's favorite, it's never let her down. We go for just under 20 minutes.
Engines go to standby, I check the nav screen and we are perfect down the line.
"Nice work, Maria." I pause, then get back on. "RISTA, active radar, three pings, please."
"Affirmative, active three pings." I watch her make it happen. Then Bass is in our ears.
"Movement on visual and infrared."
I switch to the combat information screen. Two of the
Fitzgerald
s are headed our way, we watch as the attack computer predicts all possible courses. Where they end up depends on how long they thrust, orbital mechanics having very clear mathematical outcomes. There's a big red triangle on our screens, which gets tighter and tighter.
Finally, it stabilizes. They are in precisely the slot we want them to be, heading for us through our trap. Then Bass makes me even happier.
"Two more targets under thrust." The attack computer takes those data and overlays an orange triangle on the red one. They appear to be following exactly the same pattern as the first two, which will leave them six minutes behind.
First time we went after them they changed course and speed at the last minute. This time we're going to hang back and see if they'll come to us. The attack computer says they are 4 hours from the mines, we're 12 minutes behind them, hopefully not giving them any hints of what lies in store, and far enough away to avoid damage when they go boom.
"Stay visual on the base. Move infrared and radio sensors to incoming ships."
McAdams acknowledges.
I know I keep telling you this, but space battles are like nothing from an era of advanced technology. The age of the aircraft carrier and the gas turbine is distinctly different from what we do. Instead, it's the age of sails that matches more closely the age of space.
If we're at too high velocity, we'll get one shot at them as we pass by and it will take hours to turn and get in position for another. If we're at low velocity relative to each other, then we will have intermittent opportunities to fire while we jockey to get the favorable "wind" position. None of the ships are accelerating now, we're still closing at better than 40,000 kph.
Most significant battles in history have been fought in the gravity well of a planet by large fleets, so there's always someone to shoot at and the math limits your options. In our current environment, they have to turn broadside to shoot at us which limits their movement, we can fire at them from any angle or through our missile launchers. They can only negate that through numbers, and so far, their courses do not provide any tactical advantage.
We also have an unusual condition here with the numerous large boulders occupying a dense ring around the base. Except for "up" and "down" relative to the system plane, there's not much room to maneuver. If they change their minds and decide to come at us from above or below the plane, it will be much to our advantage, they will be exposed and we will not be.
I expect them to keep on their course and plan on just slugging it out with them if they escape the mines, we'll go reverse thrust about when they get to them. Unless, of course, in all the time they've spent in the system they know something important that we don't know. We, of course, know something they don't know. Who knows the best thing that the other guy doesn't know is who will win, but we won't know that until somewhat too late to do anything about it.
In other words, we're all working on ulcers for the next few hours.
Time flies, even though it's actually slowed down at the velocity we're traveling. McAdams starts a countdown.
"Minefield in 60 seconds.... 40..... 20..... Now...."
Two seconds after she says ‘now' the ship on our starboard is no more, it must have hit more than one mine, or the detonation of one ignited another one or two close by. Either way, a man- made ball of dust added to all the natural ones.
The second ship begins to rotate, apparently to reverse thrust. Huge mistake, the movement makes it a bigger target for the little mines. She takes one in the bow and one amidships, and becomes a second debris field in a quick burst of that all too familiar white light.
We watch long enough to make sure no little pointy ships are getting away. All except McAdams.
"Skipper, trailing ships changing course, going above the solar plane."
"On my screen, Ensign." The attack screen instantly has her annotations on it, showing a curvilinear path for the last two ships. Minefield useless now.
"Mr. McAdams, detonate remaining mines."
"Affirmative, detonating." Another, bigger ball of nuclear light fills the space where the two dead ships were. Unlike previous generations, we don't leave unexploded mines laying around for some innocent to fly into.
Odds are in our favor now, these two ships just need to get close enough that they can't dodge our missile strike. They are above the plane now, and into a decel program. Nav computer shows that they will have an equal velocity vector when we get to them, traveling our direction, matching our course and speed. Good. They will be essentially stationary targets for us. There's a subtle widening to their flight paths, indicating they are trying to bracket us, but they only have half a bracket left.
Zombies. Not the ideal pilots for your space fleet.
"RISTA, reprogram missiles three and four to account for altered courses. Standby to fire."
"Missiles reprogrammed, Skipper, ready on your mark." Gomez is at the missile controls. McAdams must really like her, its always been her finger on the button before.
The attack computer says we're well within range, I want us to be close enough that they can't rotate and bring their cannons to bear on the missiles. That means waiting until we're much closer.
"Mr. Gomez, fire at 10,000 kilometers."
"Acknowledged, 10,000 kilometers." She does not have a business voice, we'll have to work on that. She's way too nervous.
We reach 30,000 kilometers. Then 20,000. 15,000. Her hand stabs out at the firing control.
Nothing happens.
McAdams' hand flies to her firing controls, she must have not completely trusted her subordinate. Fingers push into the glass, once, twice, three times a no go.
"Skipper, missiles non-functional."
"Cannon 1, pick a target, fire when ready."
"Affirmative. Nose cannon weapon free." Her hands fly across the panel once again, she punches the screen.
"Skipper, lasers inoperative." McAdams said it, I can see more to the story on my screens.
"Mr. Jordan," he always seems to be at the engineering station on the bridge, roughly 24/7, "I'm reading no power to the weapons, yes?"
"Sir, all power systems operative, reactor nominal, but I confirm, nothing is reaching the weapons. Must be a wiring problem."
"Affirmative," I turn my head rather unnecessarily, "Mr. Garcia, course 000 mark 090, full thrust, get us out of here."
"Aye, sir, 000 mark 090, nine gees in 10 seconds." The horns sound, the pre-recorded voice warns of impending doom to everyone not strapped in.
Then nothing. No thrusters to rotate us, no engine start. I don't wait for Garcia, I hit the comm button for Powell.
"Mr. Powell, status?"
No response.
"Engineering, status?"
Nothing. I go to ship wide.
"All stations, report engineering status. Engineering report to the bridge."
Shelby gets the reports, recycling active, everything else, weapons, propulsion, life support, dead. No direct contact with engineering by anyone aboard. Two heavily armed warships minutes away. I flip another comm switch.
"Master Sergeant Yeager, meet me on deck four, engineering hatch, bring both our weapons packs."
"On my way, sir, 20 seconds."
"Commander Perez, you have the con." I unhooked my straps as talked, now I rotate out of my seat, grab my helmet, and rocket out the bridge hatch and down the passageway, putting my helmet on and locking it in place as I move. Yeager is coming up through the hatch in full battle armor from deck three as I pass. He tosses my pack down the passageway after me then follows.
Normally Yeager and Mussina would do this together, but Moose is with the Marines, hopefully in the middle of an assault on the base. I chose me to take his place, my pack catches up with me and I wrap both straps across my left shoulder.
I grab the wall handle next to the hatch to Engineering and swing around, stopping my forward momentum and wrenching my elbow in the process. Fingers jab the buttons on the access panel next to the hatch, but there are no lights, red or green, it's just as dead as we are. I hammer every code I know into it anyway, an unanswered prayer.
No time to screw around, I turn to Yeager.
"Blow it, Sergeant, please don't take the deck out when you do."
"Roger that, Captain, stand back."
It's zero gravity, I can't actually stand back, but I move a few handles back the passageway toward the bridge, wrap my left arm through it and take my sidearm out of the pack with my right hand. Quick check confirms it, at least, is its normally reliable self.
Yeager takes one of the contact bombs from his pack, attaches it to the operating handle of the hatch and pushes the timer.
"Fire in the hole!" He yells and pushes off backwards, weapon held in front of him aimed toward the hatch as he floats away. It's Yeager's favorite move, he gets to stay on target and get away at the same time.
The explosion is minor, minimal flying debris and dust moving blown into the passageway, but the ship starts rocking, pitching up, yawing to our left, horns, lots of new horns.
Yorktown
is in two slow rolls, one nose to tail, the other to starboard, uncontrolled, not a single thruster counteracting. One of the
Fitz
's just opened fire on us.
Shelby is in my ear, obviously on ship-wide comm as well. "Outer hull breaches, prepare for decompression, repeat, all hands prepare for decompression." Maybe both of them opened fire on us.
Yeager and I get to the remains of the hatch just as a second laser blast hits my ship. Must have been a near miss, we're a moving target now in a most unusual way. It increases the starboard spin, but not by much.
Using hand signals, Yeager has me cover and he moves into the space opened by the explosive. I wait a second and start after him, covering his entry braced in the hatchway. Makes sense because he's wearing the armor, but he's blocking my view as well. There's a quick shot, small arms, not Yeager. It strikes metal and I hear a couple ricochets. Then I hear Yeager's much more powerful assault weapon fire twice.