Accord of Honor (5 page)

“So, Thom, ready for a little pre-mission planning?” he asked. “If you’re going to be XO, I need you in on this from the beginning.”

“XO? Planning?” I stared at him blankly. What the hell was he talking about?

“Sure. Thought I was going to let you sulk in your room?” He swatted me upside the head, gently. “Get over yourself. There’s a war going on out there. I need you in it.”

I stood a little straighter. “That’s what I said. But Dad...”

“Fuck him. You let me deal with the Old Man,” Acres growled. “Sometimes he needs to have his priorities re-adjusted for him. Not the first time.”

I stared at him blankly. “What do you want me to do?”

“Be a-fucking-mazing, like your father was at your age,” Acres said. “Oh – and if you ever pull that sulk in your room teenager crap again, I will personally space you. Get me?”

“Scanning you clear,” I said, trying to hold back a smile. The Chief and I had always, always gotten along. He was a tough asshole, but he was an awesome guy to have in your corner.

He walked away, back to the holotank. “Now, let me brief you on what’s happening.”

“We have anything new?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “We’ve had two more attacks on ships that ignored the Mars Station warnings and tried to make the run out to the asteroid mining stations anyway. Damn fools, but the location of those attacks gave us a lot of information.”

He pointed at the scan. “We’ve lost contact with mining stations here and here,” he said. “And with the main repair and refit base here.” That was only three out of a dozen operations out there in the belt, and none of them were really close to each other. Contrary to what a lot of people think about a ‘belt’ of asteroids, the rocks out there aren’t really that close together most of the time. So the bases we mine from need to be mobile, either capable of being tugged by a big ship or built almost like slow moving ships in their own right. Those bases can then pop from rock to rock, mining the minerals as they traveled.

“So I fired off a probe at the repair station,” he continued. “Fast probe, but it still took time to get there. Just got telemetry back from it an hour ago. And there’s a lot more ships sitting at that station than there ought to be, especially since the station isn’t responding to communication from Mars or Earth.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Two on the station. One floating in space nearby. The two on the station are some of the captured ships, I think. Probably being fitted with weapons right now, but hopefully that’ll take the bastards a while. You should know, Thom, that the probe picked up some plasma trails leaving the area, too. Not sure how many, but a number of ships kicked out of there not too long before the probe sailed by.”

My mouth went dry. If those ships were headed for Mars, Dad was the only thing in their way. If he had guessed wrong and they headed to Earth, there was nothing to stop them at all. “What’s your take? We head to Earth to guard there, Mars to help Dad, or the station to stop them from building up their fleet?” I asked.

“We need plans for all three. Grab a chair and some coffee, kid, we’re going to be at this a while. Hope you remember some of that wargaming you did with me when you were younger.”

“The games I used to beat the tar out of you playing?” On my first cruise, I’d been set up as an apprentice under the Chief’s supervision, and we’d blown a lot of watches playing space war games together. I’d been playing games like that since I was a little kid and had gotten pretty good at them. It was fun – something I was proud of.

“Yeah, but this is for real. Good thing the Old Man always kept ship comps stocked with those sims. You’d almost think he had a reason to sharpen tactical skills for some of his crew.” He took a seat. I gaped. “Yeah, kid. Not just for you though. He’s had those games in there to look for and track any up and coming tac geniuses. He always said we’d need them.”

I sat down, tried to refocus on planning for the Indefatigable’s launch and what would come after. Meg reported that we’d be ready to leave in forty-eight hours, and we had a lot of work to get done in that time.

P
artly to build
up enough velocity for our trip as far away from Mars Station’s active radar systems as possible, and partly because I wanted to put the ship through its paces, we did some time at maximum burn shortly after leaving dock. Twenty-five gees was a lot of force, more than humans could usually survive for more than a brief burst. Even with the pressure suits and ablative seating, I didn’t think the crew could have taken much more than the hour. And for myself, I’d never get used to breathing liquid. The suits fill with an oxygen rich perfluorocarbon fluid to help maintain pressure. You breathe the stuff in and your body gets oxygen. The feeling as the goo fills your helmet is uncomfortably like drowning, but it worked. No one died, and the ship held the acceleration well.

We shut down the engines after a precomputed course correction and went into a long, slow glide past Mars. Over the next day, the planet’s gravity slowed us down and finally yanked us back around in the second leg of a long parabola. All the while we had near instantaneous contact with the company satellites around Mars. If an enemy ship popped up nearby, we’d know about it.

I settled back comfortably into my seat, scanning the bridge. The four crew on watch quietly went about their jobs. Not much to do, but everyone was staying alert. It was good to be back on a military vessel, with military crew. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it, but this was the life I had spent twenty years in. The civilian crews I’d hired when I started SSI were good, and if anything the company had gotten even tighter over time. But it wasn’t the same as the discipline of a combat ship.

The crew of the Defender were all hand picked – men and women I’d gathered over the last few years and groomed for this moment. Each of them was superbly trained. They worked together like a seamless whole, and I was well pleased with the results of all our efforts.

The only downside of the wait was having far too much time to think about Thomas, and how we parted. He wasn’t happy about being left behind, but how could I risk sending him off with so little experience? The long wait gave me too much time to think. And the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that he had been right. It was a mistake to leave him out of this. But I was torn. Risking my own life was one thing. Allowing my son to risk his was another entirely.

We’d have to have a long talk when I got back.

On the third day after our launch, we had actually swung back past Mars again and were headed away from the planet. This was where things were going to get tricky. If the enemy didn’t attack soon, we’d be far enough away that I would have to engage the engines to catch back up with Mars again. Our current vector wouldn’t bring us back toward the planet at all. We’d simply drift off into space without a course correction and an engine burn. Too soon and the burn would be visible to Mars Station. I was hoping to keep our presence quiet until we were actually needed. Every minute we waited was another minute it would take to close the gap back to Mars if the enemy attacked, though.

Fortune gave us our first good break that day. We still hadn’t drifted too far from the planet when my radar officer perked up suddenly. I stood up and quietly walked over to his station. He was young, and he almost jumped when I put my hand gently on his shoulder.

“Ease up, son,” I said. “What have you got?”

“I’m tracking some rocks, sir,” he replied.

“Rocks? What do you mean?”

“Yes, sir. Rocks, three of them. Just popped up onto scan, which doesn’t make sense. The systems are scanning mostly for sudden acceleration, like a ship under power, but asteroids don’t just speed up.”

“Not unless they’re sped up by something. Someone,” I corrected myself. “Get me a heading on those rocks, now. Where are they headed, and how fast?”

I jumped back to the captain’s chair, thumbed a button on the arm to broadcast over the ship.

“All hands, general quarters.” I said, keeping my voice even. That would get everyone into their pressure suits for emergency acceleration. Those of us on the bridge duty were already suited; we just needed to clip the suits into the bridge chairs, pop on helmets, and they’d fill with liquid perfluorocarbons to keep us breathing.

I could feel the familiar pre-battle thrum in my bones. It had been a while, but the force of old habits kept my face bland and the tension out of my voice. I tapped the intercom again, this time calling the engine room. “Bring the engines to standby and be ready to give me max burn on demand. This may turn out to be a drill, but I doubt it.”

I looked around the bridge. “Weapons, we ready on all launchers?.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Radar, give me an update.”

The young man at the radar con was sweating bullets now. I hid a smile. First times were always rough, and most of the crew, as skilled as they were, had never been in combat. Of course, neither had the enemy. Even my old experiences were nothing like how I expected a space battle to be fought today.

“The rocks aren’t too big, sir. One or two tons each,” the radar tech said. Marks, that was his name. Too many new names at one time. “But they’re moving fast. They’ll intercept Mars atmosphere in thirty minutes, but should burn up harmlessly in the atmosphere. They’re headed very close to Mars Station. Possible intersect there in ten minutes. Hard to be precise without an active ping. I’m relying on secondhand data from communication satellites.”

“That’s the game, then,” I said. “Blow the station with rocks. Or threaten it, anyway. Maybe they’re trying to see if the station has any countermeasures. Being cautious. Anyway, we can’t let them blow the station. Time to give them a little shock!”

I hit the general intercom. “All hands, prepare for max acceleration in fifteen seconds.” Then to the radar station: “Marks, active ping. I want to know what those rocks ate for breakfast. Weapons, as soon as you have firing solutions, dump enough fission missiles into those things to turn them into dust.” I sat back in my chair and let my suit fill with the syrupy stuff I’d be breathing for the next while.

Seconds later, we were headed back toward Mars Station at twenty-five gravities. We’d fired three full volleys of missiles, just to be sure, and they sped ahead of us toward their targets. My main concern now was where the actual ships were. We knew roughly where the asteroids had originated, and we were accelerating toward that point, but had no idea precisely where we’d find the enemy ships I knew had to be lying out there, waiting. Or how many of them were hiding there.

Marks’s voice came over the suit radio. “Sir, I’m being called by Mars Station. They’re sounding pretty anxious over there.”

“I’ll just bet they are,” I replied. My voice sounded odd. The perfluorocarbon goo didn’t transmit sound well, so we had subvocalization mikes for talking The computer assisted reconstruction of a real voice was good, but it still wasn’t quite right. “Pass the channel over to me.”

There was a short buzz, and then I heard a tech from the station calling out in a voice that sounded about ready to crack, “Attention, unidentified ship. You are in violation of Mars space, and in violation of the Lunar Accord treaty. Cease fire and identify yourselves!”

“This is the ship SSI Defender, Admiral Stein commanding. We are tracking three asteroids inbound on Mars Station, and have fired interceptors to destroy them before they can destroy you. We believe these asteroids to be part of an attack by an enemy force, and are moving to engage them.” No response. Well, I’d given him something to chew on. I figured he’d have his boss on the line in a minute or two.

I eyeballed the plot, showing the computer’s best guess of the enemy ships’ location when they gave the asteroids a push, and a blossoming ball of red that represented the probable region they could be in by now. That ball was getting bigger by the minute, but it was all still contained between Mars and one of the moons, Deimos. Which gave me an idea. There was a small mining colony on Deimos, and SSI still had access rights to their comm arrays for emergencies. This certainly qualified.

“Weapons, kick out sabot rounds, two full volleys, twenty second separation. Give each volley ten seconds burn then send them cold. Target vector is the center of the probability matrix.” He looked quizzical, but to his credit he didn’t ask any questions, just got right to it.

“Another message from Mars Station, sir. It’s Governor Clarke on a laser comm. Channel nine.”

I tapped a button to open the channel. “George, what’s up?” I said. “I’m sure you’re aware that we’re about to be pretty busy over here.”

“Nick, what the hell do you think you’re doing? I appreciate the shots you fired at the rocks, and I hope they work. I’ve already ordered everyone to evacuate the station anyway. We’ve got a few people left here, but not many.”

“Here?” I asked. “You’re on the station? George, you need to get out of there. It’s got to be their primary target.” There was no way I could adequately defend the station and move to engage the enemy ships at the same time. Most of Defender’s missile defense was fairly short range stuff.

“I’ll get out when my people get out, Nick. That’s beside the point. Your ship... I guess that’s what you wanted to get from R&D?”

“Well yes, George. I did say it was something we didn’t want them to get their hands on, I believe.” I smiled.

“I’d be remiss as a government official if I did not inform you that your actions are in violation of the Lunar Accord treaty and subject to mandatory death sentence by every nation on Earth,” Clarke replied. “But since this is Mars, not Earth, and you’re trying to save our butts up here, I’m going to quietly wish you good luck and good hunting. Be careful, Nick.” Then his eyes widened. My own gaze shot to our plot, and a moment later six new signatures appeared on the screen, accelerating lightly on a vector that took them closer to both us and the station.

“I see them, George. Got to cut this short now, we’re about to get some customers.”

I cut the link. We had strong tracking on all six ships now, and the computer had compressed the red probability matrix from where it thought they might be, down to where they could plausibly maneuver next. They were well off to one side of the track I’d fired those missile volleys down. Off to the side and high, but burning hard now to change their vector and come around at us. On our present course, we’d close to powered missile range in under a minute.

Then our first shots connected with the asteroids, and all three signatures vanished from the screen. So the first attack was foiled. And the enemy knew we had weapons to worry about. Almost in answer to the explosions, the computer showed a large number of bright red dots break off from the enemy ships and start moving toward my own ship.

“Con, radar: missiles inbound. I track thirty six missiles.”

Interesting. Either their missile envelope was much bigger than ours, or they were firing basically blind. “Hold fire,” I said. “Don’t return fire until we’re in our envelope, then full rapid fire, two volleys per enemy ship, mixed nukes and sabots.” Six of those missiles had come from each enemy ship. Was that their number of tubes? Or just a test of our reactions? “Stand by on missile countermeasures. Helm, get us out of the incoming missile path. I think those birds will just be drifting by the time they reach us, but lets not blunder into the path of one.”

The weapons officer – Sergeant Grant, I recalled – sounded off. “Ten seconds to powered missile envelope, sir.”

“Fire the planned sequence the second we hit range.” The ships were hurtling toward each other at an incredible speed now, but something was changing. The red line demarking the vector of one of the ships was turning, heading back – toward Mars Station. “Belay that! New fire coordinates, focus first three volleys at the ship that is turning, designate target alpha.” I could still see the small blips of shuttles and escape pods trying to jet away from the station. I had to buy them more time.

“Helm, bring us around to a bearing that will carry us between that ship and the station.” Then the gentle nudges that were our first missile launches, computer coordinated to fire in twos on opposite sides of the ship. The launchers were built to kick the missiles away from the central axis of the ship, so that the thrust of missiles firing from opposite sides equalized and had less effect on the course of the ship.

I could feel the chatter of the rear guns firing on a couple of missiles that got too close to us from their first volley. They hadn’t fired another round yet, which implied we had at least a little bit of range on them. The entire pack had banked around now, tracking in toward the Defender. The ship that had veered toward the station was still on that course, but Defender would be able to sweep into the path and obstruct any missiles it launched.

And there it was. All six ships firing, and it looked like all the missiles were trained at Defender again. Another six rounds per ship. A minute later, another. Same rate of fire we had. “Weapons,” I called out over our intercom, “Firing solution two. Three volleys per ship. Target the cluster of five ships on our flank. Fire at will, continuous fire!” That would overheat the tubes fast. We’d see how long Defender could maintain a maximum rate of fire.

The plot was getting confused, missiles tracking all over. Our own shots were proceeding at a good pace. Those first shots would be impacting shortly, but it seemed to take forever. Distances were so great between our ship and the enemy that the time delays involved made the whole thing feel unreal. Lags of minutes were going to be the norm between launch and impacts. We’d fired off all three volleys at the first ship and were loading to fire at the second, and the enemy had returned fire with seventy two missiles of its own. In all, one hundred twenty missiles were flying at various targets, and the plot was very busy. It was going to get hard to track all the missiles shortly. Of course, in another minute or two, the first ones would be hitting their targets.

I still had two more cards to play. “Helm, EM screens up.” We had strengthened the electro-magnetic screen most ships carried to deflect small bits of debris. Even the stronger version wouldn’t stop a direct hit, but they’d stop fragments and shrapnel from any nukes they sent our way, and in theory protect our electronics from EM waves off the nukes.