It was time to start picking up the pieces.
Or so we thought.
Yes, we still had what we thought to be a crapton of missiles headed our way, but I wasn't going to let anyone die in the black if I could help it.
So I sent the Wolves to do search-and-rescue.
Would it have made any difference?
I still don't know.
Chapter Twenty Four
“Prepare to fire counter-missiles.”
The nineteen missiles from the dead Apollos had steadily closed the distance while the station crew watched the battle and were now within 10,000 kilometers. The other missiles, from the frigates, were lagging behind, so Diana was concentrating on the most immediate threat.
“Missiles ready to launch.” Diana had selected one of the groups of missiles she was steadily pulling along for her initial volley, leaving two groups, plus the mounted missiles, in reserve.
“Launch!”
Twenty missiles leapt away from the station, tracking on nineteen targets which were now coasting on ballistic paths, out of fuel and unable to maneuver.
Three minutes later, nineteen targets vanished in brilliant, but brief, releases of kinetic energy.
“Admiral, fourteen additional missiles inbound,” Coloma said.
“Diana?”
“Tracking. Updating firing solutions. I plan to fire at 10,000 kilometers, Admiral.”
“Do what you think best. After all, it’s your skin.”
“Literally, Admiral.”
“Better, Diana. Getting better. Kyran,” she said, turning to the station commander. “What’s the good word?”
“Wolf Division Three is engaged in SAR operations. DivOne and DivTwo are escorting one of the frigates, the ANS Scott, toward the habitat, as well as the damaged Aristotle. The Scott surrendered to Commander Kleve.”
“Open a channel to them. I think I need to have a chat with their captain.”
“Aye, ma’am. Reeves?”
“Contacting. On screen.”
Near Reeve’s station a screen lit to show an AN officer.
“This is Admiral Cassidy of the Terran Federation.”
“Lieutenant Ty Hendershot, commander of the – I was going to say ANS Scott, but I don’t know if that’s true.” He tried for a wry smile and almost made it. “Ty Hendershot, Admiral. How can I help you?”
“What are your intentions, Lieutenant?”
“I’ve surrendered to your, I think she said they’re Wolves? Apt name. Anyways, they’re very carefully not actively targeting me as they give me an honor guard to your station.”
“Weapons status? And please, don’t lie to me. There’s been enough killing today.”
“Yes, ma’am. Our laser is powered down, the capacitor has been discharged. We have one missile remaining in our magazine; it is currently not active.”
“Dump it,” ordered Kendra.
“Ma’am?”
“You have a way to get missiles aboard?”
“Yes…?”
“Reverse it. I want that missile off your ship before you get within 20,000 kilometers.”
“But we’re only 26,000 kilometers away!”
“Then you’d better hurry. You can comm when it’s been ejected. Cassidy out.” She looked satisfied for a moment, then said to Colona, “Keep a close watch on that evolution, and let me know as soon as you see the missile.”
“Aye, ma’am!”
“Reeves?”
“Just Reeve, ma’am.”
“Reeve, connect me to Galileo.”
“Aye, ma’am. Go ahead.”
“Mia?”
“A bit busy, Kendra. Recovering survivors.”
“Tell whoever’s in charge of your frigate escort to destroy the missile as soon as it’s clear of the frigate. They can comm Diana for elaboration.”
“Aye, Admiral. Destroy missile, aye. Comm for instructions as needed, aye. Wolfpack Actual, out.”
Pipher spoke up. “Admiral, what do you want to do about Yang and Hawking? They just reported they’d offloaded their missiles, but they don’t seem to have any targets any longer.”
“Oh boy. That’s going to be a bitch to retrieve. Tell them –“
“Vampire! Vampire! Tracking three inbound…six…nine…”
“Where are they coming from?” demanded Kendra.
“The Brahe!” answered Colona, interrupting her count.
“Oh, frak me. Range?”
“Forty thousand kilometers and closing. She’s up to 36 KPS and still accelerating, ETA sixteen minutes, eight seconds.”
“Reeve, open a channel to all ships!”
“Go.”
“All Federation forces discontinue evolution and scatter!”
“Kendra, we’re in the middle of a rescue –“ Mia started to protest.
“It’s the Brahe! It just dumped its missile load; we have, how many inbound?”
“Thirty, ma’am,” said Colona.
“Thirty thermonuclear-tipped missiles inbound, and the Brahe is almost on top of you! You can outrun him, but you’ve got to go!”
“Aye, Admiral. Wolfpack, you heard the Admiral. Scatter!”
*
Captain Nicholas Shorey watched his scanners. They’d launched three-quarters of their missile load, which should be more than enough to swamp whatever defenses the habitat had left and blow it into oblivion.
Shorey was a short, unpleasant, ambitious man. Never finding a partner willing to stay with him, he instead committed to the service. After early struggles, he had realized his skills and abilities would never suffice to raise him to the levels he desired. He had spent most of his time in service cultivating connections to powerful families, currying favor, and doing all he could to sow the seeds of future success. As a result, he had been steadily promoted though the SUN and was now commanding one of the crown jewels of the fleet.
His loyalty, though, was to the Four Families. He had received orders, through the SUN, from the jumped-up tart pretending to be Minister of War, but they were nearly irrelevant. He had his orders, and he would fulfill them.
“Captain,” his Tactical officer, Mike Wood, said diffidently.
“Yes, Mr. Wood?”
“Sir, it seems the ANS Scott is being escorted by a number of those small shuttles.”
“Indeed. Mr. Gawron, put me through.”
“Yes, Captain,” answered the communications officer.
“ANS Scott, this is Captain Shorey, on the SUNS Brahe. Status report.”
“And this is Lieutenant Ty Hendershot of the ANS Scott. Do we feel better about ourselves, having named ranks?”
“You insolent…! I asked you for a status report!”
“I don’t report to you, Captain, but I’ll tell you anyways,” replied Hendershot. “We’ve been captured by the Terran Federation and are being brought back to their habitat.”
“You allowed them to capture you?”
“There wasn’t any ‘allow’ about it, Shorey. It was surrender or die,” answered Hendershot. “You may have noticed we’re the only AN ship remaining intact?”
The sarcasm was lost on Shorey.
“Your duty is to obey your orders, not cravenly surrender! I order you, Lieutenant, to counterattack those…those…shuttles!”
“Okay, Shorey, I’ll get right on that. Seriously, maybe you didn’t notice but these things are faster than us by a long way, are just as heavily armed, and, by the way, there are six of them! And if that’s not enough to convince you, maybe this is: you’re not in my chain of command. I don’t take orders from the SUN, so piss off.” The connection cut.
“Mr. Wood, target that traitor and destroy him!”
“Sir, that’s an Artemis Navy ship.”
“It’s commanded by a traitor, convicted by his own words of desertion. That is a capital offense, and I will have you execute my sentence. Destroy that ship!”
“Yes, Captain.” The Brahe changed aspect slightly to bring her spinal lasers squarely in line with the Scott. “Capacitors charged on all weapons.”
“Fire spinal lasers in sequence.”
“Fire spinal lasers in sequence, aye.”
The Brahe mounted four 6MW lasers in her bow. Each laser had not one but three capacitors, each one capable of generating full power for 500 milliseconds. Recharge time was still roughly a minute, but each laser could fire three times before the first capacitor recharged, twenty seconds apart. Standard tactics called for each laser to fire sequentially, at five-second intervals, until the target was destroyed. Each burst from the laser delivered six megawatts of power to a spot perhaps a quarter-meter square; twelve tons of TNT would be the rough equivalent. Not much compared to their nuclear-tipped missiles, perhaps, but devastating to a smaller ship, such as the Scott.
“Cease fire,” ordered Shorey, thirty-five seconds later. The pieces of the ANS Scott were drifting rapidly apart.
“Sir, the shuttles are attempting to flee.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” Shorey smiled nastily. “Cut drive. Come broadside on, target each shuttle in turn with five weapons per volley, repeat volleys until target is destroyed. Roll when all lasers discharged. Anything that is not either Artemis or Solarian Union is a valid target.”
Copernicus-class battleship broadsides mounted twenty 1MW lasers per side, with one capacitor per laser, and so the tactic practiced by the SUN during their exercises was to roll ship between broadsides, to bring the other, fully charged, side to bear on the enemy while the discharged capacitors were restored. A skilled crew and captain could keep an enemy under nearly continuous fire, by simply staggering the fire of the broadside before rolling, or deliver a series of hammering blows until their target was eliminated.
Shorey’s crew was well-trained; the first shuttle was locked into a firing solution inside of twenty seconds.
“Ready to fire, Captain,” Wood reported.
“Fire as you bear.”
Wolf-class shuttles were coated, like the Enterprise, in CeeSea. Due to the molecular structure of the compound, nearly all of the visible spectrum was reflected back at an albedo of 0.89. Lasers, then, had less effect on a Wolf than on other objects, such as asteroids, which typically had albedos below 0.25. The more energy is reflected, the less is absorbed, simple math.
When the incoming energy was five 1MW lasers, reflecting 89 percent back just wasn’t quite good enough. Each one still managed to deliver 110 kW on target, or the destructive power of four hundred pounds of TNT.
No Wolf that was hit survived more than two volleys.
*
“Admiral…”