Doom Star: Book 02 - Bio-Weapon (28 page)

What was that old saying? A picture was worth a thousand words. Admiral Sioux shut her right eye, the better to view the VR-monocle in her left, and then she twitched her left hand, the only one gloved to the computer.

A small model of the inner solar system leaped onto her virtual reality monocle. The Sun blazed at one end, Mercury orbiting around it, then Venus, the Earth and Mars.

All the solar system’s planets orbited in the same direction. If one looked down from the Sun’s North Pole, they moved counter-clockwise. Also, all the planets orbited on nearly the same plane, or ecliptic. The ecliptic was inclined 7 degrees from the plane of the Sun’s equator, although the plane of the Earth’s orbit defined the ecliptic of all the other planets. Even in 2350, humanity kept it Earth-centric outlook of the universe. Far-off Pluto had the greatest inclination, 17 degrees, and it had the most bizarre of all the orbits.

Compared to the Outer Planets the four Inner Planets hugged the Sun. If one changed the millions of kilometers to mere steps, the relationship became more easily understood. Admiral Rica Sioux recalled her grade school science class and the teacher who had actually made the subject enjoyable. From the Sun to Mercury would be one step. To Venus would be one more step or two steps from the Sun. To the Earth would be another step and Mars one more or four steps away from the Sun. But to go from Mars to Jupiter took nine more steps or a total of thirteen steps from the Sun. Saturn would be 25 steps from the Sun, Uranus 50 steps, Neptune 78 and Pluto 103 steps. The nearest star, Alpha Centarui, would take 200 miles worth of stepping using this model, while the distance between the Earth and the Moon would be the width of a person’s little finger.

The planets, naturally, didn’t all orbit around the Sun in unison, with each one perfectly lined up behind the other. Each circled Sol at different speeds and as a matter of course, some had farther to travel than others. Mercury took 88 days to complete one circuit around the Sun. Venus 225 days, Earth one year or 365.26 days, and Mars took 687 days to travel one complete circuit around the Sun.

Such were the major terrain features of the inner system, with each planet tugging with its gravity, although none pulled upon objects like the monstrous Sun. Each planet and even their moons and of course the Sun created gravity wells, deep holes in terms of escape velocities needed to climb out of, and they also created gravity centers that bent light and thus laser beams that sped past them and they also effected missiles in flight. It was always much easier to shoot objects like missiles or asteroids
down
gravity wells than
up
them. Minor terrain features like the magnetic belts, such as the Earth’s Van Allen Belt, and the solar wind also had to be taken into account by firing computers and ship’s AI.

The
Bangladesh
sped past Mercury as the planet continued it endless journey around Sol. Much farther ahead of Mercury in its own counter-clockwise orbit was the Earth, almost so the Earth was out of the line-of-sight of someone standing on Mercury. If they were out of the line-of-sight, then direct laser-link communications would be impossible, as the Sun would block such a beam. Given time, Mercury would lap the Earth, but by then it wouldn’t matter to the
Bangladesh
. Venus was farther behind Mercury but not by as much as the Earth was ahead. Mars, in its much slower circuit around the Sun, was presently between Venus and Mercury in terms of line-of-sight arcs.

Admiral Rica Sioux studied the four planets and their relative positions because of General Hawthorne’s complex fleet maneuvering.

The
Bangladesh
, as it passed Mercury, had changed heading so that given time she would reach Mars. Meanwhile, three SU missileships from two very different locations sped up to match the beamship. They would all join a little beyond Venus’s orbital path. Two battleships, two cruisers and a missileship also built up speed to join them, but they wouldn’t link up until near the Earth’s orbital path.

Once all together they would be the strongest SU Fleet Flotilla. Still, any of the Doom Stars could take them, expect perhaps for the badly damaged
Genghis Khan
.

The Highborn, damn them, hadn’t been idle while all this took place. The Doom Star in orbit around Venus had left the planetary system and now gave chase, building up speed at sixteen Gs acceleration. The
Gustavus Adolphus
Doom Star that normally circled Mercury also gave chase. The goal of two such super-ships would usually be to bracket an enemy ship, although with the
Bangladesh
’s
head start and the two Doom Stars’ starting locations that wasn’t going to be possible.

Even so, General Hawthorne had countered the Venus maneuver. He sent two SU battleships and six cruisers at Venus. They came from seven different places in the voids of Inner Planets.

To Admiral Sioux and probably to the Highborn as well, it looked as if the General had finally given up his game. Either that or he was trying to keep the Highborn honest and force them to keep their Doom Stars around each of the planets. Venus only had the one. So if Venus’s Doom Star traveled very far and built up too much speed, it wouldn’t be able to turn around in time to stop the two SU battleships and six SU cruisers that headed to Venus. That force could probably take on the HB laser stations in orbit around Venus and whatever orbital fighters they had. But if the Doom Star returned to Venus, those ships would have to alter course and flee. So it wouldn’t do for them to get to Venus too soon.

Fleet maneuvering in space was an intricate business, one of speed and heading and fuel and armor and missiles and lasers and re-supplies. Each side heavily leaned upon its predictive software and AI’s. Even Highborn minds couldn’t cope with the bewildering amount of data and spatial decisions.

Admiral Sioux twitched off the VR-monocle. In her gut, she wanted to gather all the SU spacecraft and try to hit one lone Doom Star. Look at what the
Bangladesh
had done to the Sun Works Factory. The Highborn weren’t invincible.

Concerning that, there had been a strange call five days ago from a Director Gannel, asking her opinion about gathering the Fleet. She’d decided to play it safe and had wanted to know what the Supreme Commander thought.

“Never mind that, Admiral. We want your opinion.”

“Who are we?”

“I speak for the Directorate of all Inner Planets.”

Arrogant politician, she hated their political games. She had not been able to avoid such games on her way to the top, but hated them all the same.

“I would of course obey a more aggressive policy,” she’d finally said.

“I’m not asking you about your loyalty, Admiral. I want to know what you think about hitting the Highborn harder.”

“If the correct safeguards are taken, it could be very beneficial to Social Unity.”

There had been a pause, much longer than the transmission time. Then he’d said, “I’d thought better of you, Admiral.”

And that had been the end of that. It meant a power struggle was going on, she was certain of it. But of whom and over what she didn’t know. When General Hawthorne had beamed his message he’d said nothing about new policies, but he had ordered this gathering. What did it mean?

She frowned. Better to concentrate on matters at hand, on things she could actually affect.

“Tracking,” she said.

“Yes, Admiral,” said the officer in her module.

“How soon until the HB missiles reach beam range?”

What she meant was how soon until the enemy jinking and ECM drones wouldn’t adversely affect the proton beam so that it would miss 19 out of 20 times. Usually that began anywhere from 100,000 to 80,000 kilometers, depending of the intricacy of the enemy’s electronics.

The Tracking Officer studied her board, studied the HB mass of missiles that had converged toward them, closing day by day, hour by hour.

“Soon now, Admiral. Say, two hundred and fifty minutes.”

Admiral Sioux rose and walked carefully toward the tracking module. They fled from Mercury, building up speed at one and one-half gravities, which played havoc on her knees if she moved around too much. They had burned at eight Gs for several hours, with everyone in the acceleration couches, but now they slowed and jinked. Zigzag jerks and starts and slow-downs and sudden accelerations were a matter of course during combat flight.

The
Gustavus Adolphus
had given chase ever since the Doom Star had dumped masses of lead impregnated aerogel and prismatic crystals near the Sun Works Factory. Social Unity had discovered this by an optic observer carefully hidden these several months between Mercury and Venus. The small ship with its powerful telescopes was sheathed in the latest stealth technology. The
Gustavus Adolphus
had no chance of hitting them at this range, but with those masses of missiles fast approaching, the
Bangladesh
’s
choices had been narrowed. Its cones of probability weren’t as large as before.

The Tracking Officer sucked in her breath.

“What’s wrong?” asked Admiral Sioux.

“This can’t be right,” said the Tracking Officer. “It must be Highborn ECM playing tricks on us.”

Admiral Sioux hurried to the module, a bad mistake. She had to step down to reach it. The one and one-half Gs caused her to twist her leg and put too much force on her left knee. She hissed, and collapsed as pain shot up her thigh.

“Admiral!” shouted the First Gunner, shucking off his VR-gloves and moving out of his module to assist her.

“Never mind me,” she said, using the tracking module to help her stand. Then she groaned. She couldn’t put any weight on her left knee.

The Tracking Officer looked pale as she kept rechecking her board.

“What is it?” said the Admiral, as she peered into the module.

“The missiles,” said the Tracking Officer, shaking her head.

“What about them?”  They were small red blips on the officer’s VR-screen.

The Tracking Officer looked up, her thin lips trembling. “They just began hard deceleration. And I count twice as many missiles as before.”

Shock swept through Admiral Sioux. Twice as many missiles as before? The idea made her dizzy. Then she shouted, “Battle stations!” She shoved the First Gunner’s hands off her—he tried to help her to the command chair. “To your post, mister,” she said. Then she threatened to twist her right knee too, by hopping on her good leg back to the command chair. With a groan, she sank into the cushions.

“Admiral!” shouted the Shield Officer.

“Calmly,” said the Admiral. “I can hear you quite well, thank you.”

The Shield Officer stared at her, nodding a moment later. “Yes, Admiral,” he said in a quieter, more professional tone. “Ship’s AI suggests that we get into the acceleration couches.”

She checked her own compulink to the AI. Hmm.

Several seconds later, she opened intra-ship communications. “Attention crew, this is the Admiral speaking. Prepare for extended acceleration. I repeat, extended acceleration.”

Needles stabbed. A gross, awful, smothering feeling threatened Marten’s sanity. It made him recall a story of his mother’s, the way they say a dying man sees his life flash before his eyes. She’d been a strong-willed woman of faith, a Bible reader, and she’d often spoken about this passage.

Marten recalled the story of Jonah and the whale and he felt like Jonah right now diving into the depths. The pressure, oh it was awful, compressing and mind destroying. He raved, as he heard Vip raving over the comlink, and as their Storm Assault Missile began hard deceleration.

Vip’s screams broke through to Marten. The small man’s cries were hoarse and wild, desperate beyond dementia.

“Vip!” shouted Marten. “Listen to me, Vip!”

More screaming and sobbing.

“We’re going to make them pay, Vip. Hang on. Fight it. Resist. I promise you we’re going to make the HBs pay as they’ve never believed possible. So we’re the sub-human’s, eh? We’re nothing but dung beneath their feet? Their lord highnesses, Highborn, lofty ones, arrogant bastards! We are men! Do you hear me, Vip? You and I are men. Omi, Lance and Kang are men. The shock troopers are men. Hang on, Vip. Because once we have that beamship… oh Vip, we’re going to surprise them. Ha! Surprise, Vip. A really big surprise is what the HBs will get when we sub-humans take over the
Bangladesh
.
”

Kang hissed, “You’re raving.” Then the maniple leader groaned in misery and could say no more.

“Not raving, Kang,” whispered Marten. “I’m promising. Do you hear me? Promising!”

The crushing pain, the nausea and Vip’s screams became too much. Like a dumb beast, Marten endured the horrible deceleration.

The HB missile barrage didn’t sweep at the
Bangladesh
in one vast clot. They came from a 60-degree arc, from all their various cones of probability originally fired at. Nor did they all fly at the same speed. Some had been programmed to travel faster, to reach the target sooner.

In front sped ECM drones: electronic countermeasure missiles. They scrambled and jammed the
Bangladesh
’s
radar. They had kept secret the true number of missiles, hiding and halving the actual amount. Now they created electronic ghost images. They sprayed aerogel with lead additives, shot packets of reflective chaff and they worked around the clock to break the beamship’s ECM. AI’s, artificial intelligences, ran the drones. Predictive software, battle-comps and probability equations gave them a seeming life of their own. One thing the drones didn’t have was biocomps like the New Baghdad cybertanks. The Highborn loathed biocomps. They felt such things to be unholy and monstrous. Life shouldn’t be mated to a machine, not in such a way—although they found nothing sinister about hooking the shock troopers to the G-suits and packing them into the missiles as biological bullets.