Rumors of Salvation (System States Rebellion Book 3) (12 page)

“No,
and you’ll understand why shortly. Listen carefully and make sure you’re both
recording this conversation. Bogey1 is maneuvering for a head-on collision.
We’ve confirmed his intention by making minor course changes, and he’s adjusted
his own course to compensate. That means that Phantom is going to be destroyed.
Up until now, I’ve been the de facto leader of the Resistance. When I’m gone, I
don’t want there to be any doubt as to who’s in charge. Rachel, I want you to
assume command of all Resistance operations and personnel. You’re better
trained and have more combat experience than anyone else. Ernst, do you agree
with that?”

After
a short pause, Sorcerer’s C.O. said, “Ja, it’s the right choice. Commander
Molitor will have my support.”

“Very
good, Ernst. Rachel, listen, there’s something that I haven’t told you yet.
When I visited Vril, I left a message with the locals to pass on to the leader
of the Brain Trust if they got the chance. His name is Roland Drake. I told him
that we need to combine forces and that he can find us at Midgard. If a ship
arrives there, you need to be aware that it might be from him. It’s a long shot
I know, but if they’re able and willing to help us, it just might make all the
difference.”

“Oh,
God, Bret. You took an awful big chance that they might pass that on to Empire
personnel.”

“I
think it’s only a slight chance, Rachel. After all, these are people who
supported the SSU’s secret R&D operation for most of the war. I can’t see
them knowingly helping an Empire that’s controlled by a rogue computer.”

“Well,
when you put it that way, I guess I can see your point. Okay, I’ll keep an eye
out for them. Is there no way to avoid the collision, Bret?”

“None
that I can think of, Rachel. He won’t let us veer off.”

“What
about hitting him with missiles? Aiming them shouldn’t be a problem. If you can
disable his ability to maneuver, then you can get out of his way.”

Murphy
felt like slapping his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That might
work. I’ll try it. Anything else before we end this private huddle?”

“Just
good luck, Bret,” said Molitor.

“And
good hunting!” added Sorcerer’s C.O.

“Thanks
to both of you. I’m switching back to our normal com channels now.” He returned
to the Com Station and handed the headset back without saying a word. Instead
of returning to his Command Station, he headed for the Weapons Officer.

“What
have we got loaded in our tubes right now, Lieutenant?”

“Six
recons plus six heavy anties. The remaining six tubes are empty, Commander.”

“Okay.
I want a spread of recons launched, standard anti-missile detection profile,
then all six heavies launched two seconds apart. While they’re launching, load
another six recons and then replace the launched missiles with the same thing
again. Have another recon spread and the second round of heavies programmed so
that I can launch them from my station. Begin launching the recons when ready.
Wait for my command before you begin launching the heavies. Any questions?”

“No,
Sir,” said the young officer confidently. Murphy gave him a little smile and a
pat of approval.

“Recons
have been fired,” said the W.O. as Murphy finished buckling himself into his
Command Chair.

“Six
heavy anties programmed for two second sequential firing are ready, Sir.”

Let’s hope this works.
“Commence firing,” said
Murphy with as much confidence as he could muster.

Empire
Cruiser Agincourt

“Fire!”
yelled Hendricks in a hoarse voice. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.
Must
be the adrenaline,
he thought to himself.

“Any
sign of return fire, Weps?”

Before
the W.O. could respond, the display pinged, and another text message from
Ground Control scrolled across the bottom of the display.

[Single
enemy ship has launched a six missile volley followed by six more sequentially.
You are ordered to break off your attack. Acknowledge this order.]

Hendricks
wanted to signal back that he couldn’t break off, but the implant decided not
to let him. The rising pain only subsided when he mentally acknowledged that he
would not reply.

“Block
any further verbal or text messages from Ground Control,” Hendricks ordered his
Com Tech. If he didn’t see them, he wouldn’t have to worry about the implant
acting up again.

“What’s
the status of our volley?” he asked.

“Twelve
missiles launched and on course. Estimated time to impact is two point three
three minutes,” said the W.O.

Hendricks
relaxed. The missiles with their much higher acceleration would reach the enemy
ship long before Agincourt would, and if he was lucky, they would damage that
ship before it could fire its own missiles back at him. It didn’t matter,
though, if his missiles were successful. He had a feeling that the implant
wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than a head on collision. From the implant’s
perspective, that was the only way to be sure of the enemy ship’s complete
destruction. He doubted if the device was programmed well enough to understand
that there was no real difference between a destroyed enemy ship and a crippled
enemy ship. The latest bout of pain was now giving him a headache.
Two more
minutes. I just have to hold it together for two more minutes, and then I’ll be
free.
He made the mistake of looking at the chronometer which seemed to
tick off the seconds unusually slowly. At this rate, two minutes would seem
like two hours. He forced himself to look away.

Phantom

Murphy
jumped in surprise when the W.O. yelled out, “We’re getting targeting data on
enemy missiles!” Murphy looked at the tactical display that was now showing a
flashing yellow icon roughly halfway between Phantom and Bogey1.

“Zoom
in tactical,” ordered Murphy. The display zoomed in to show both sides’
missiles. The six recon missiles were flying in a hexagonal formation spread
out so that enemy missiles would fly between them. By sending radar beams that
intersected ahead of the recons, enemy missiles could be picked up with enough
warning time to track them precisely as they passed the recon missiles. That
targeting data, combined with knowing the exact distance and position of the
recon missiles, would allow Phantom’s tactical computer to compute exactly
where the ship’s anti-missile lasers should aim. At least that’s what the
theory and the simulations said.

Murphy
watched in fascination as 12 red dots representing enemy missiles moved in a
tight cluster down the center of the space that was bordered by the six recon
missiles.

“Missile
defense batteries are locked on! Manual or auto firing?” asked the W.O.

Murphy
thought fast. Manual firing meant the lasers would start firing now and
continue until ordered to shut down or until all targets were confirmed
destroyed. Auto firing meant that the tactical computer would wait until the
computed probability of a hit reached the optimum level. Because of the time
required to recharge the lasers after each shot, manual firing had the risk
that the lasers would not be recharged in time to fire at the optimum point. On
the other hand, the optimum firing point was based on assumptions that might
not be valid. The Empire might have upgraded their missile technology too.
Better play it safe.

“Manual
firing, Weps. Confirm the order.”

“Manual
firing confirmed, Skipper,” said the W.O. quickly. “All lasers have commenced
firing.”

“Helm,
prepare for a radical evasion course change after our missiles hit,” ordered
Murphy.

“Evasion
course set up and on your number two screen, Skipper,” said the H.O.

Murphy
checked the time left before his own volley of six missiles hit. Fifty-five
seconds and counting down fast. Only forty-four until the enemy volley hit
Phantom. So far no confirmation of any missiles destroyed. He held his breath.

“Two
confirmed kills!” said the W.O. triumphantly.
But ten more to go!
Thought
Murphy.

“Three
more!”
That left seven and twenty-one seconds to go.

“FOUR
MORE!” The W.O. was shouting now. Murphy realized he was still holding his
breath. This was going to be too damned close.

“TWO
MORE!”

Murphy
had just enough time to notice two things. The W.O.’s voice was heavy with
anguish because there was one enemy missile left to go and the second thing was
that there were two seconds left before impact.
This is gonna hurt.
He’d
scarcely formed this thought before Phantom was hit. The force of the explosion
was equivalent to the ship suddenly lurching in reverse with an acceleration of
25Gs for a full second, thereby overwhelming the inertial dampeners and
threatening to rip consoles, chairs and bodies from their restraints and hurl
them against the front bulkhead. All power was lost temporarily, but at least the
artificial gravity stayed on. His chair’s harness kept his body from smashing
against the main display, but the compression knocked the wind out of him, and
his neck felt like an elephant had fallen on it. The pain was so great that he
was sure some bones in his neck were damaged. There was something wrong with
his vision too. One eye wasn’t working at all, and the other eye must have
suffered burst blood vessels because he seemed to be looking through a red
haze. He tried to lift his head enough to see his number two screen, but the
stab of pain in his neck forced a cry of pain from his mouth. He couldn’t tell
if the main display was still tracking the tactical situation, and he wasn’t
hearing any further reports from the Weapons Officer. Had his six missiles hit
the enemy ship yet? With no way to be sure and the pain getting worse, he made
a decision.

“Helmmm…initiate
evasion…” Speaking was so painful that he couldn’t finish the sentence. As he
started to pass out, his last thought was of his beloved Cate.

Empire
Cruiser Agincourt

Hendricks
saw the red enemy icon on the tactical display begin flashing and had enough
time to see that the sidebar was claiming a critical hit before the first of
six high yield fusion missiles hit Agincourt. The first hit knocked him
unconscious. The second hit killed him along with most of the crew. By the time
the last missile hit, Agincourt was a half vaporized, molten lump. It still had
enough mass left to pulverize the Phantom when the two ships collided a few
minutes later.

Tigershark

Molitor
watched the split-second flashes on the tactical display with a growing sense
of sorrow. Her reaction was more intense because she was saddened by the loss
of both ships’ crews. None of them deserved to die like this. Her sense of loss
over Murphy’s death was tempered by the knowledge that his wife’s spirit would
be waiting for him wherever the spirits of brave warriors went when their
bodies died. She envied him that. No one would be waiting for her when she
died.

After
a short while, the display showed another, different kind of energy spike from
the battle area. The lack of radiation and electro-magnetic pulse told her that
the heat and light she was seeing must have been the result of the collision of
those two ships.

“God
bless you, Bret Murphy,” whispered Molitor.

“A
brave act by a brave man,” said Yeager. “Valhalla will surely welcome him.”

Molitor
felt an impulse to chide Sorcerer’s C.O. for his belief in an ancient pagan
religion but then changed her mind. As a spaceship officer, she had acquired an
appreciation for how big space really was. The idea that there was enough room
for all concepts of the afterlife didn’t seem so improbable.

“I’m
sure it will. Let’s maintain our random evasion maneuvers, Ernst. Their
lasersats could still hurt us if they get a good look at us.”

“Okay,
Rach…Commander.”