Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) (6 page)

As they closed the gap, the tension on the bridge of the
Ares
climbed proportionally. Commander Wright had set up a supplemental watch schedule that would put first watch back on the bridge four hours before they crossed the orbit of Xi’an’s furthest moon without keeping the ship at general quarters. She sat pensively in her seat next to Jackson as the mission clock ticked up and the distance ticked down.

“Make the call, Commander,” Jackson said quietly. “Let’s get ready.”

“General quarters, general quarters,” she called over the ship-wide PA. “All hands, man your battle stations. Set condition 2SS and prepare for imminent contact with enemy ships.”

Condition two, ship to ship, 2SS, let the crew know there would be combat between ships in space, and they were part of a larger force. Since the
Ares
was officially handed off from Tsuyo shipyards to CENTCOM, Jackson had been running them through drills until they knew the difference between ship configurations like the backs of their hands.

“Tactical! Go active, and paint the targets,” Jackson ordered. “OPS, put our sensor telemetry on the Link and make sure the other ships stay silent until they’re ready to engage.”

“Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Commander Barrett said.

Instantly, the threat board began to populate, showing the two Alphas, now sitting in a high transfer orbit, and the other four ships from their own squadron.

“Plot a firing solution for the Shrikes,” Jackson ordered. “Two missiles to each target.”

“Targets reacting to active radar,” Lieutenant Davis reported. “Alpha-One is accelerating around the planet. Alpha-Two is pushing away and coming onto an intercept course.”

“That’s unexpected,” Celesta said.

“Indeed,” Jackson frowned. “If they’re really toothless, why risk coming out to meet us? OPS, how long until Alpha-One crosses the horizon?”

“Fifty-one minutes,” Davis reported.

Jackson confirmed their range on the main display before. “Tactical, firing solution for Alpha-Two only, two missiles,” he said. “OPS, tell the
Icarus
and the
Atlas
to break formation and engage Alpha-One as it comes around, nukes are authorized.”

“Solutions plotted and missiles are updated,” Barrett said tightly. “Armament has confirmed both birds ready to fire.”

“Standby,” Jackson said.

Alpha-Two slowed its approach, almost coming to a full stop between them and the planet. The behavior was all wrong for a target that was supposedly unable to defend itself while looking at multiple heavily armed hostiles bearing down on it. The
Icarus
and
Atlas
were now veering off away from their formation to catch Alpha-One as it came around Xi’an, both ships accelerating hard.

“Sir?” Barrett said.

“Fire both birds, five hundred millisecond stagger,” Jackson said. “Helm, all reverse one quarter. Let’s shed some of this speed. Tactical, get the auto-mag ready to fire… high-explosive penetrators, twenty-five round burst.”

“Missiles one and two are away, time to impact… one hundred and sixty-three minutes,” Barrett said. “Auto-mag is online, and power-bank is fully charged. Twenty-five round burst will be available in two minutes.”

“OPS, tell the
Artemis
and
Hyperion
to bear starboard and shallow out their insertion angle,” Jackson said. “I also want them cutting their velocity by a third, and to be ready to hit Alpha-Two’s flank if needed.”

“Yes, sir,” Davis said.

“What’s worrying you, sir?” Celesta asked quietly, once he’d forced himself to walk back to his seat and sit down.

“Something’s wrong,” Jackson whispered. “I don’t think this thing is as defenseless as our analysis indicates. A lot of our assumptions are based on what CENTCOM’s scientific staff was able to glean from the pieces of that first Alpha… but we’ve had no independent verification of that. I think we could be looking at an entirely different class of Alpha. Their rough dimensions are the only method we’ve used to classify them up to this point.”

“And the speed reduction and formation change?”

“I’m trying to keep us from overextending and being unable to withdraw,” Jackson explained. “With the other four ships dispersed, we also aren’t so bunched up and presenting such an easy target.”

“Missiles are past the halfway mark, sending the final arming command,” Barrett said, a little over an hour later as their missiles continued to streak toward the now fully stopped Alpha-Two.

The new generation Shrike tactical missiles, now sporting nuclear warheads, were designed specifically as Alpha-busters. They had considerably higher yield than the typical tactical nuke, almost as much as a strategic weapon, but it was designed with a unique delivery system that would maximize the payload’s destructive potential.

Nuclear weapons in space were a dicey proposition due to the characteristics of the blast. The nasty stuff, like gamma and neutron radiation, was still there and propagated from the detonation unimpeded, but the lack of an atmosphere meant the pressure wave and thermal radiation were nullified. The Shrike was therefore given an ultradense, extended nosecone that would pierce the organic hull of an Alpha before a final rocket stage would blast the warhead as deep as it could into the monster, where the pressure wave and thermal radiation would be devastating.

“Still no response from the target?” Jackson asked.

“No, sir,” Davis said. “No thermal buildup on the leading edges or on the nose.”

They waited tensely for another thirty minutes for the Alpha to make a move so they could counter it. That it just sat there motionless in space, waiting for the two missiles, was unnerving. Jackson couldn’t even be sure the damn thing could see the projectiles. The first Alpha he’d tangled with had no problems finding the
Blue Jacket
, no matter where he was, but it had never seemed able to detect their expendable munitions unless they were fired at extreme close range.

“Movement!” Davis called. “Alpha-Two is now accelerating toward us… wait… It’s changing course and climbing above our missiles.”

“Birds are correcting course,” Barrett said. “No joy. Target has closed the range too quickly, they won’t be able to pitch up steeply enough and maintain velocity for penetration.”

“Send the abort signal.” Jackson gripped his armrests as the Alpha came at him on the main display. “Put them in orbit over Xi’an, and we’ll recover or repurpose them later. Start tracking for an auto-mag shot, and prep two more Shrikes and a full spread of Hornets.”

“Yes, sir.” Barrett’s hands flew competently over his controls. “Auto-mag firing solution in ten seconds, targeting the nose—”

“Incoming flash message from the
Atlas
!” Lieutenant Keller, the
Ares
’s coms officer called out. “Alpha-One opened fire on them before they could come fully around Xi’an and acquire a target lock. Unknown weapon.
Atlas
has degraded hull armor on the prow.”

“What about the
Icarus
?” Jackson said.

“Unclear,” Keller said. “I believe they’re saying she’s withdrawing.”

“What?” Jackson nearly shouted. “Lieutenant Keller, you get a hold of that ship, and you find out what’s going on. Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Captain! The hull of Alpha-Two is opening on the leading edges,” Davis called out.

“Explain.” Jackson turned away from the coms station and refocused on the main display.

“Six openings, four port, two starboard, irising open along the centerline.” Davis put the enhanced image up for him to see. “Helm! Pitch down thirty-five degrees, full emergency acceleration!” Jackson called out as he realized what he was looking at.

“Sir, what—”

“Incoming fire from Alpha-Two!” Davis shouted, cutting off Celesta. “Thirteen projectiles accelerating toward us at over eight hundred Gs. They seem to be unguided.”

“Helm, pitch us down another five degrees,” Jackson said as the bridge began to shake from the
Ares
’
s
powerful main engines running past their accepted limits. “Are the enemy missiles tracking?”

“Correction, missiles are now angling down toward us, but it looks like they’ll still overfly us,” Davis said.

“We’re going to pass almost directly under Alpha-Two,” Celesta reminded them. “OPS, watch for any weapons deployment on their ventral surface.”

“Nothing yet, ma’am,” Davis said.

“Coms! Tell the
Artemis
and
Hyperion
to attack from the flank,” Jackson ordered. “Wait until we’re out of range before they lob any nukes in. We don’t want to get caught up in the blast if they manage a direct hit. OPS, how long until we pass underneath?”

“We’ll be directly under the target in thirty-six minutes at a range of five thousand two hundred kilometers,” Davis said.

“Tactical, update your auto-mag solution,” Jackson said. “I want to stitch all twenty shells along the target’s ventral surface. Helm, prepare to go to zero-thrust and surrender attitude control to the tactical computer.”

“Yes, sir.” Barrett drowned out whatever affirmation the helmsman offered.

The auto-mag, a single barreled mag-cannon capable of rapidly firing fifteen hundred millimeter shells like a machine gun, was a hasty addition to the
Starwolf
-class ships. As such, it was hard-mounted in the belly of the ship with the muzzle of the gun coming out just under the pointed nose of the ship.

Since it wasn’t installed in an articulated turret, the entire ship had to be precisely aimed to fire the weapon. It was far from optimal, but it was better than nothing, and it had been a hard-fought battle on Jackson’s part to even have the weapon installed at all.

“The
Artemis
and
Hyperion
are on their way in,” Lieutenant Keller reported. “They’re asking for permission to go to active sensors.”

“Granted!” Jackson barked, mildly annoyed. Apparently both captains had forgotten that standard operating procedure cleared them for all tactical systems when actively engaging an enemy target. “What’s the status on the
Icarus
?”

“They’re clearing the engagement area,” Keller said. “There appears to be some confusion on the bridge, sir. I’m unable to get confirmation that they’ve been damaged or had any malfunction.”

“OPS, get me a position on our wayward destroyer, if you can,” Jackson said. “Coms, tell the
Atlas
that we’ll be coming around the planet shortly after passing Alpha-Two… What is the status of Alpha-One?”

“Firing solution is locked in, Captain,” Barrett said. “We’ll be within range in under five minutes.”

“Helm! Zero-thrust,” Jackson ordered.

“Engines answering zero-thrust,” the helmsman confirmed.

“Tactical, you’re clear to assume attitude control.”

“Yes, sir.” Barrett began his targeting scripts that would pitch the
Ares
back up so her nose was leading the target as the two ships screamed past each other at almost thirty thousand kilometers per second. “Pitching up and authorizing fire control computer to engage the weapon. Waiting on command authority.”

“Authorized.” Jackson pressed his thumb against the display of his terminal to give the final go-ahead for the computers to assume control of the ship’s offensive systems.

“We’ve got five more ports opening up on the ventral surface,” Davis warned.

“Five seconds,” Barrett called out. “And… firing!” The auto-mag was an enormous, powerful machine, and when it began firing, it was not a subtle thing. Capable of one hundred and fifty rounds a minute, the cannon began belching out high-explosive shells at a rate of five every two seconds. The deck shook violently as the ship continued to pitch up, the attitude thrusters struggling to walk the line of fire down the line Barrett had programmed.

The auto-mag pulled so much power from the main bus that the lights on the bridge dimmed slightly as the power plant struggled to keep engines and weapons fully operational. “All shells away! Cannon clear and safe, releasing helm control,” Barrett called out.

“Helm, pitch us back down on our original course, and bring the mains back up, ahead one half,” Jackson said. “OPS, track our hits.”

“Recording impacts now, sir—Whoa!” Davis exclaimed. “Two shells hit one of the open ports. Secondary explosions visible along with multiple hull breeches, sir. Target is now moving off and no longer turning to pursue.”

“Tell the
Artemis
and
Hyperion
to try and finish it off. They may attack at Captain Forrest’s discretion,” Jackson said. “Coms! Where’s my update on Alpha-One?”

“The
Atlas
is no longer answering requests for updates, Captain,” Keller said.

“I’m trying to reinitialize their Link remotely, sir,” Davis reported, sounding harried.

“As quick as you can, Lieutenant,” Jackson said, completely unsympathetic. “We’ll be coming around the terminator blind if the
Atlas
can’t get us a good position for the enemy ship.”

Xi’an loomed large in the main display, her ravaged atmosphere swirling with angry stripes of brown and red, but Jackson was only paying attention to the overlaid tracks of all the ships on the two dimensional representation of the star system. Next to each ship was a number that denoted the ships “altitude” in relation to the ecliptic so that, with practice, one could almost visualize the scene in three dimensions.

The data for Alpha-One was flashing red, telling him that it was old and unverified. The fact both ships he’d sent around the planet had yet to either report back or update their status weighed heavily on his mind, but not as much as the fact the enemy ship hadn’t come back around Xi’an. Even at a leisurely orbital velocity, it should have reappeared before the
Ares
had opened fire on its twin.

“Link connection re-established with the
Icarus
,” Davis said. “
Atlas
is still unresponsive. Data coming up now.”

Jackson leaned forward. The position for Alpha-One changed very little. It had drifted up to a higher altitude, but it was still hanging over Xi’an and looked for all the universe like it was waiting on them.

“Can the
Icarus
verify the target’s orientation for us?” Jackson asked, not directing his comment at anyone in particular.