Trial by Fire - eARC (63 page)

Hu’urs Khraam’s voice buzzed with anxiety. “But if we power down the PDFs—”

“Then our ground assets are completely undefended against any nuclear-armed rockets that might be targeting
them
.”

Hu’urs Khraam’s voice was firm. “We will power down the arrays. The humans would not attack their own cities with nuclear devices.”

“I must counsel caution regarding such swift assumptions, Esteemed Hu’urs Khraam. Today, the humans are showing a propensity for cunning and ruthlessness that matches the old stories.”

“I agree with Hu’urs Khraam,” argued Fleetmaster R’sudkaat. “The humans are simply trying to overwhelm us with many targets at the same time. There is less cunning in this than you perceive, Tuxae Skhaas.”

“With respect, Fleetmaster: do you remember their first general attack, the one made by their interceptors on the first day?”

“Yes, where they lost more than one hundred fifty aircraft? Pure folly.”

“It was not folly. It was not ignorance. It was to learn our capabilities.”

H’toor Qooiiz forgot his place as Tuxae’s usually silent partner. “What?”

“Reason from the partially heard harmonies, rock-sibling. The humans had groundside active arrays, as well as visual observation capabilities. They knew how many hulls we had, in which orbits, and they watched how we responded to the futile threat they flung against us. They gathered this information not to aid their interceptors, but to determine each ship’s orbital interdiction capabilities. They no doubt identified each hull visually, and have since tracked where they are at all times, noted any changes, and have maintained a constantly evolving estimate of our maximum interdiction capability.”

Fleetmaster R’sudkaat sent the words out through grinding mandibles. “Then why did they not use this information before today?”

“Because until today, the humans did not have a war fleet approaching Earth. Had the humans used their knowledge before now, we would have understood that they had learned what it would take to overwhelm our systems. We would have increased our capabilities and would have realized how duplicitous, patient, and resourceful they are. Besides, what would they have gained by lofting a dozen drones, or a dozen rockets at Java, before this day? Maybe they would have managed to disable a ship or two, destroy a few hundred of our troops. But now—”

Hu’urs Khraam saw it clearly. “Now we must choose: do we allow the human missiles to attack our ground forces, or do we allow them to place a large force of drones in orbit? For we cannot prevent both.”

Tuxae hung his claws. “The humans have an expression: to be caught between a hammer”—he pointed to the red motes of the human fleet—“and an anvil.” He pointed to the white ballistic trajectories rising up from around the globe. “If they are launching drones into orbit, this is precisely the situation in which our counterattacking fleet will find itself. But if the drones turn instead to attack us here in orbit, and we remain committed to defending our ground forces instead of ourselves, we will surely lose many of our hulls, and with them, much of our orbital interdiction ability.”

Hu’urs Khraam finished outlining their Hobson’s choice. “Conversely, if we turn any significant portion of our orbital intercept capabilities to bear on the missiles that may be launching drones, several of the closer missiles will certainly get through to Java. And, if they are armed with nuclear warheads, we could lose most of our ground forces.”

“And we will have lost you, Hu’urs Khraam, our leader and the voice of the Wholenest. Your orders?”

“We must destroy their nearest missiles and preserve our ground forces or this invasion was for naught.”

“But if the humans are launching new drones to assist their fleet, that combined force might prevail against our counterattacking flotilla.”

“This is true. In which event, we must await relief by the fleet returning from the asteroid belt.”

Tuxae fluttered his rear antenna. “If it comes to that, the humans will gain several days of orbital supremacy. They will swarm over you on the ground.”

The pause suggested Hu’urs Khraam’s careful consideration of what he said next. “Yes, that could occur. But if we allow even ten of their missiles to land in Indonesia, our destruction is assured, and our campaign is over. Lacking additional landing forces, we would then have only two choices: to annihilate the entire world from orbit, or to withdraw. Each is a politically unserviceable extreme. So, in order to maintain the delicate leverage necessary for a successful outcome to this conflict, we must preserve our ground forces.”

Although he was not in the presence of the First Delegate, Tuxae bobbed his respect. “I harmonize, Hu’urs Khraam.”

“Target the missiles with clear trajectories for Java.”

North-Central Jakarta, Earth

Winfield saw the fast, multiple flickers over his shoulder and went prone, covering his eyes and ears. Ayala, left arm still bleeding from a through-and-through hit inflicted by some kind of Hkh’Rkh scattergun, was down beside him in a moment. Seconds went by. Jakarta was only marginally more quiet than it had been before.

About fifteen seconds later, a dull rumble started, rising up through and ultimately washing over the incessant small arms fire and intermittent rockets that were still pelting in from the periphery of the city. Winfield stood, looked back out over the Thousand Islands. It appeared as though a tiny, dim afterimage of the sun blazed at the eleven o’clock position. However, the sun’s own cloud-smudged brightness was still visible at the two o’clock position. One sky, two suns—although the smaller one at eleven o’clock was fading fast.

“Whaddya figure?” asked Barkowski, who had sheltered in a doorway.

Winfield shrugged. “Two megaton, maybe. Really high up. Doubt we’ll get much wind out of it.”

“Why’d we launch it?”

“Maybe to hit them with some EMP, although that one didn’t get anywhere near close enough.” He looked at Ayala. “Of course, they might have been trying to drop it on Java.”

“Lieutenant, last time I checked, we’re still standing on Java.”

“And last time I checked, Commander, we’re still considered expendable. Let’s keep going, but stay near cover.”

Barkowski lingered to look at the almost vanished brightness of the nuke. “So. Not the last?” His tone made it a statement, not a question.

“Nope,” answered Winfield, “and if I were a betting man, not the closest, either.”

It was then that a much brighter flash opened high overhead.

Chapter Forty-Three

Wholenest flagship
Greatvein
, Earth orbit

Tuxae kept panic out of his voice. “First Delegate, please repeat.” Nothing except the falling squeal of static produced by an atmospheric nuclear detonation. “Esteemed, Hu’urs Khraam do you receive our signals? Are you still there?” There was no evidence of a ground strike, or a near-surface airburst, but with so much sensor noise—

“I—we—are still here, Sensor Coordinator Skhaas. But that missile exploded only ten kilometers away, albeit quite high. Can you not intercept them farther out?”

“My apologies, Hu’urs Khraam, but that missile exploded the instant
before
we would have intercepted it. Evidently, the humans are using the rockets being launched from Asia to generate EMP attacks upon your electronics.”

In the background, Tuxae Skhaas heard a Hkh’Rkh—probably First Voice—interject: “They have succeeded. All my communications gear is useless, as are our sensors and targeting. My troops must now rely on hand signals, iron sights, and brave blood.” He sounded oddly, if grimly, satisfied.

“And the PDF arrays?”

A new voice: Darzhee Kut, if he was not mistaken. “Thankfully, Hu’urs Khraam gambled to take them offline. There is some further degradation, but not much. Tell us, are the missiles from North America and Europe heading for us, as well?”

“No. They are almost all inserting to orbit and deploying drones.”

“How long before the drones reach you?”

Fleetmaster R’sudkaat leaned in toward H’toor Qooiiz’s console. “They are not heading toward us. They are sternchasing the ships we sent to intercept the human fleet.”

Hu’urs Khraam’s response was immediate. “Fleetmaster R’sudkaat, deploy all the remaining drones in your orbital flotilla to pursue the human drones. They must overtake and eliminate them. Otherwise, our counterattacking ships will be struck from both the front and the rear.”

“I will do so immediately. Tuxae Skhaas, I need trajectory data on the human drones.”

But Tuxae, staring into the holotank and then at his screens, barely heard the senior Arat Kur.

“Tuxae Skhaas, will you comply?”

“Fleetmaster, Hu’urs Khraam. We have a new problem. There is a new human launch site—no,
two
new launch sites.”

“So? There are hundreds of human launch sites already. How bad can two more be?”

“Very bad.” Tuxae turned to look up at the Fleetmaster. “These two launch sites are in the middle of the water. One is only ten kilometers south of Bawean Island, near the middle of Java’s northern coast.”

Hu’urs Khraam voice was preternaturally calm, almost as if he already knew the answer to his question. “And the other?”

“Forty kilometers north of Jakarta. If you look out an upper story window, you should be able to see the launch plume now…”

Flagship USS
Lincoln
, Sierra Echelon, RTF 1, cislunar space

“Admiral Silverstein, Lord Admiral Halifax on tightbeam secure line two.”

Ira nodded, tapped his collarcom. “Silverstein, here.”

“Ira, Tom Halifax. I just received a lascom from the sensor chaps in Plesetsk Cosmodrome. The big thinkers in joint force intel have high confidence that the enemy’s planetside situation is deteriorating.”

Silverstein nodded. “Which means they’ll either shore it up by keeping their interdiction assets in orbit, or they’ll engage our fleet with everything they’ve got and sacrifice their beachhead. Any indication which way they’re going to go?”

“We just got a whistle from the Big Blue Marble on that. Groundside observation indicates no new enemy transfers out of orbit and no decrease in orbital interdiction.”

Ira nodded. “So they’re digging in to save their beachhead and letting their screening force take its lumps from us.”

“Seems so. Big Blue has also managed to launch a handy little fleet of drones to help us exterminate these damn Roaches, so I’m activating contingency Delta and taking First Echelon to flank speed for a high energy half-orbit and then all the way out the other side.”

“A gravity-assisted slingshot toward Vesta?”

“’Fraid so, Ira. The muddy-side brain trust seems to think we’re a bit too mobbed up here in cislunar. It’s possible we have more force than we need to do the job. So after my first echelon boxes the Arat Kurs’ nonexistent ears during our approach, we’re going to boost again and run the gauntlet—right through them.”

A cheery, confident tone, but if the drones didn’t get close enough to the rear of the Arat Kur to divert some of their firepower, Halifax’s maneuver could be a messy—and grim—business. “Orders, sir?” Ira asked.

“The enemy orbital flotilla has launched drones to intercept ours. We’ll need to employ the Mousetrap contingency to keep that from happening. But after you’ve sprung the Mousetraps, do what you think best, Ira. I hope to be in touch again, but frankly, we can’t know what happens next—other than this: once my echelon is engaged, the battle for cislunar space is in your hands and the laps of the gods. Despite all the scenarios we’ve run, there’s no knowing what happens next. So if you don’t hear anything more from me, you’ll have to play it as it lies, old boy. When you’re done trouncing them, do catch up if you can. I expect those of us in the first echelon will be stepping lively with their inbound belt fleet in a day or so.”

“I’ll try to be there, Lord Halifax.”

“I know you will, Ira. Keep us apprised. We’ll be looking over our shoulders for you, and happy to see you coming on. Cheerio.”

Ira turned to Ruth Altasso. “Commander.”

“Sir?”

“Have the commo officer signal all conns in second echelon: adjust vectors to assume assault cone Echo. Double our deployment of antimissile drones. I want our leading defensive edge fixed at point four five light-seconds from our main van. Signal Rear Admiral Vasarsky to reconfigure her third echelon for heterogeneous operations. She’s to make ready for orbital interdiction
after
probable fleet engagement. And send the Mousetrap signal. I want to make sure the drones launched by Big Blue reach the rear of the Arat Kur fleet.”

“I assume we’re going to have the Mousetraps target the Arat Kur chaser drones?”

“Yep. That’s how we trump their trump. Don’t save any ’traps; use ’em all.”

“Aye, sir.” Altasso turned away, smiled. For some reason, Silverstein always thought of her as a bride when she wore that expression. “Sounds like we’re going to have our hands full today, Admiral.”

“It does indee Low Earth Orbit d, Ex, it does indeed. Activate the Mousetraps on my mark…and,
mark!”

Low Earth Orbit

Seven hundred twenty kilometers above the earth, the CellStar IV satellite continued in the same lonely orbit it had been following since its deployment in 2068. In its time, it had been a miracle of miniaturization and communication efficiency, fusing another link in a tightly interconnected world of wireless communications.

But time and technologies march on. The adjectives with which CellStar IV was embellished faded from “prodigy,” to “workhorse,” to “old standby,” to “outdated,” and ultimately to “defunct.” Several relays shorted out in 2095, seven years after the end of its projected operational lifetime, and the little satellite that could became the little satellite that couldn’t.

But in 2113, it had a visitor. An orbital maneuver vehicle, or OMV, supposedly on a routine maintenance mission to much a larger, newer, and better communications satellite, detoured and rendezvoused with the big, dark box that had been CellStar IV. A single robotic ROV emerged from the OMV’s payload bay and set to work on the inert satellite. It removed most of its internal and core components, replaced them with a large black box—maneuvered with some difficulty out of the OMV’s payload bay—and left, taking along the original innards of CellStar IV.