Rumors of Salvation (System States Rebellion Book 3) (11 page)

Phantom

“Bogey1
seems to be trying to avoid battle now,” said Molitor over the com channel.

Murphy
took a good look at the tactical display before responding. That ship was now
accelerating as fast as it could in a direction that would open the range.
Because of the momentum it already had on its old course, the maneuver looked
like a gradually tightening curve.

“It
sure looks that way.” He was about to say more when the display pinged again.
Murphy watched in disbelief as the projected course stopped swinging away from
his squadron and began coming back around. He waited to see if it would return
to its old course and was shocked when it reached that and then continued
turning towards him. Instead of running from a fight, Bogey1 now seemed to be
bent on engineering the most dangerous kind of tactical maneuver. Unless Murphy
ordered his ships to veer off, the two sides would approach each other on
virtually parallel but opposite courses at high speed, with only a few thousand
kilometers separating them at their closest point. The fact that his squadron
had a three to one advantage was small comfort. Missile duels at that range
practically guaranteed that at least one of his ships would be seriously
damaged, and it might be Phantom.

“Well
that answers that question,” said Molitor in a low voice.

“Which
question is that, Rachel?” asked Murphy.

“I
think we’ve just witnessed Majestic’s implant in action. How else can you
explain a complete 180 degree change in tactics after just a few seconds of
trying to disengage? I’ll bet you any amount you want that the CO of that ship
wanted to disengage and the implant made him not only abandon that strategy but
went even further and ordered him to essentially commit suicide. If his ship
has the same level of armor that Tigershark does, then our combined missile
capability will blast that ship to atoms. I don’t know of any CO who would take
that action unless they were mentally unhinged or were coerced into doing it.”

“I
can’t find any fault in your logic, but even if you’re right about that ship
committing suicide, it can still hurt us.”

“And
that’s exactly why Majestic’s machine logic would order that tactic. Majestic
has enough ships that it can engage in this kind of attrition strategy and
still win in the end. If you think of humans as being expendable, then
sacrificing them this way makes perfect sense. Damn, I hate that machine! The
people on that ship don’t deserve to die this way. I might even know that CO
personally.”

“We
could try to veer off,” said Murphy.

“We
could try, but I don’t think the implant will allow that CO to let us go. If
he’s determined to fight a missile duel, he can force one on us regardless of
what we do now unless…”

“Unless
what?” asked Murphy.

“Well,
if the squadron splits up and each ship takes a different vector, then Bogey1
can only go after one of us, and Sorcerer, being the smallest of the three,
would be the obvious target, assuming that the implant would allow that CO to
choose which ship to go after.”

Not if Sorcerer is escorted by Phantom while Tigershark
tries to entice that ship to go after it.
But why should
Rachel have to risk her life and the lives of her crew to save me and mine?
He
felt shame at his instinctive desire to save his own life while expecting
someone else to sacrifice themselves for him. This was now virtually the same
dilemma as he faced on Midgard when Trojan’s troops were about to land. He had
accepted his responsibility as leader to save his people even if it meant losing
his own life, and then fate had allowed him to live. He felt guilty because of
that. He now had a chance to pay that debt and balance the scales AND rejoin
his beloved Cate. That thought brought a calm to his mind that was quite
soothing and comforting. Phantom would try to lure Bogey1 away. Rachel’s
Tigershark would escort Sorcerer to safety. The decision felt right.

“Rachel,
this is what we’re going do,” said Murphy.

Empire
Cruiser Agincourt

Hendricks
gave one final gasp as the pain stopped. It had only taken a couple of minutes
for Agincourt to swing back around enough to reassure the implant that he
wasn’t trying to run away, but he was soaked with sweat from the painful
ordeal. He knew that taking three ships practically head on was suicide, but it
seemed, based on how the implant reacted, that Majestic didn’t care so long as
his ship could inflict some losses on the enemy. For a moment he was tempted to
hold his fire out of spite, but he suspected that the implant would detect that
kind of passive resistance and give him another dose of agony. The only silver
lining that he could see in this situation was that it was highly likely he
wouldn’t have to worry about the implant for much longer. Death was beginning
to look better and better.

He
looked around at the others on the Bridge. They were carefully looking away,
but he could see just enough of their faces to know that some of them were
experiencing implant-induced pain too. It was obvious what had happened. It was
impossible to endure that kind of agony without revealing it physically and
audibly. They would have seen his suffering and understood that the implant was
forcing him to turn the ship back towards the enemy fleet. Whatever thoughts of
rage or despair they might have felt would have triggered their own pain
sessions. He felt he should say something but couldn’t think of anything that
might be of any comfort to them. Checking the sidebar data, he saw that the
optimum range for missile launch was still about twelve and a half minutes away,
enough time for him to go to his quarters and change into a fresh and dry
uniform. If he was going to die in a little while, he didn’t want to face death
shivering from the cold of a wet uniform.

Just
as he got up and was about to hand over temporary command of the ship, the
tactical display pinged. The icon representing the enemy fleet was splitting
into two, with a single ship in one and the remaining two ships in the other.
It didn’t take long to see that the two icons were moving away from each other.
He also noticed that the single ship was not veering away as much as the other
two. Hendricks took a closer look at the two-ship icon information. Yes, just
as he suspected. The smaller ship was being escorted by one of the larger
ships. They were running for it, and the other large ship was hanging back just
enough to make it easy for Agincourt to intercept it.

The
realization that he was now facing one-on-one odds instead of three-on-one gave
him a momentary surge of hope that he just might survive this combat.
But I
don’t want to survive it. I hate living like this. I’m willing to bet my crew
hates it too. I’m going to end this nightmare once and for all.

“Helm,
when that single enemy ship settles down on a final course, I want you to
program a zero-range interception so that the auto-pilot will automatically
correct our course no matter what that ship does.” He could see out of his
peripheral vision that everyone on the Bridge had turned to look at him,
including the Helm Officer, whose shocked expression rapidly changed to one of
comprehension and agreement. Hendricks looked around at the others. Now they
were all nodding their agreement as well. A zero-range interception was a
euphemism for a head-on collision. At these speeds, there wouldn’t be enough
time for their brains to feel any pain from the collision. It would be as close
to instantaneous death as it was possible to get. To his surprise, he realized
that the implant was not objecting to the maneuver. When the auto-pilot was
programmed, Hendricks activated the program and breathed a sigh of relief that
the implant still wasn’t objecting. He got up and stepped over to the Weapons
Station to confer with the W.O. The collision was the endgame, but there was
still a battle to fight before they got to that point.

Phantom

“He’s
coming after us,” said the Helm Officer. Murphy nodded his agreement. Bogey1
was clearly veering away from Tigershark and Sorcerer and towards Phantom. That
C.O. had taken the bait.

“Ah,
Commander, you should take a look at this,” said the Helm Officer in a voice
that had just the tiniest hint of panic.

Murphy
quickly went over to the Helm Station and looked over the H.O.’s shoulder at
his screen. “What is it, Ryan?”

The
H.O. pointed at the data window showing a PoC of 89%. That was damned high and
it was increasing. “That ship isn’t satisfied with a close interception. Look
at what it’s doing.” Murphy looked at the navigation screen carefully. Unlike
the tactical display, it showed not only projected trajectories based on
current vectors, but also possible trajectories that met certain criteria such
as collisions. Prior to the squadron splitting up, his three ships had been
approaching Bogey1 on an interception vector based on its old, pre-suicide
course change. The ‘suicide’ trajectory brought the interception point closer,
and the combined trajectories looked like a crooked T. When the squadron split
up, Tigershark and Sorcerer veered off sharply to the right, while Phantom
brought its course slightly to the left, thereby positioning itself to engage
Bogey1 with missile fire before Bogey1 reached optimum range on the other two
ships. The message that Murphy was sending to the enemy commander was simple.
You have to get past me first before you can shoot at the others. If Bogey1 had
kept to its ‘suicide’ course, the minimum distance between it and Phantom would
have increased, and the PoC would have dropped practically to zero.

What
the enemy commander was doing now would be deemed insane if not for the
intervention of an implant. The angle of Bogey1’s trajectory was getting
steeper. The ‘T’ was getting more crooked. Not only that, the projected minimum
distance between them was dropping alarmingly fast.

“You
think he’s going for a head on?” asked Murphy in a subdued voice. He didn’t
want to alarm the rest of the Bridge crew.

The
H.O. sighed. “I don’t know any other way to interpret this data. If he
continues to swing past the optimum collision angle, then we’ll know he had
something else in mind.”

Both
men stayed silent as they watched the PoC approach 100%. The rate of increase
seemed to slow down as it got closer. When it reached 100%, Murphy held his
breath waiting to see if Bogey1 would continue its course change which would
cause the PoC to start dropping again. It didn’t.

“Son…of…a…bitch!”
said Murphy with feeling.

“Yeah,”
was all the H.O. said.

Murphy
checked the time to intercept. They still had just over 10 minutes to figure
out what to do. “Let’s see what he does if we alter our vector slightly. Pick a
direction and change our course by two degrees,” said Murphy, still speaking
with a quiet voice. The H.O. executed the instructions, and they waited. How
that enemy ship could see them was still a mystery. Then Murphy had an
inspiration. “Are we silhouetted against the planet from Bogey1’s perspective?”

The
H.O. snapped his fingers and said, “Yes, by God. That’s how they’re tracking
us. I should have thought of that myself.”

The
H.O. was the first to speak after a few more seconds of silent watching. “He’s
adjusting his vector again.” The PoC, which had started to drop as a result of
the two degree course change, was now climbing again. When it reached 100%, it
stayed there. “Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken,” said the H.O. in a voice
that contained more hope than conviction.

Murphy
was convinced that the enemy C.O. really did mean to engineer a head-on
collision, but in order not to completely demoralize the Helm Officer, he said,
“Yeah, maybe.” He gave the Helm Officer a quick pat on the back and walked over
to the Com Station.

“I
need to speak with Tigershark’s and Sorcerer’s C.O. confidentially. Hand me
that spare headset,” he said to the Com Tech. The crewman complied with the
unusual request. Clearly the Skipper didn’t want his own Bridge crew to hear
what he was about to discuss. He was tempted to listen in, but decided that
maybe he didn’t really want to know.

Murphy
put on the headset, made sure it was active and then walked over to the side of
the Bridge that was farthest away from Bridge personnel. He reminded himself to
speak in a low voice for added privacy.

“Rachel,
Ernst, can you hear me?”

“Not
very well, Bret. You sound far away. Can you speak a bit louder?” asked
Molitor.