Alarm of War, Book II: The Other Side of Fear (31 page)

Those three men, Rudd, Skiffington and Yaffe, were her arms and legs as Emily wielded the Heavy Gunboat Force.

Now Emily sat beside Alex Rudd in the
Rabat.
  “Just like old times,” Rudd commented, peering intently at the hologram display.  The enemy cruiser was to their west and the six Squadrons of gunboats were racing towards it.  Thanks to the C2C communications with the
Lionheart,
Emily could see that the Lionheart and Wellington were just finishing a missile run against the two destroyers.  Depending on how that turned out, they would either follow in with lasers or turn back towards the Dominion cruiser.  The cruiser, still trying to burn its way through the heavy jamming, had not yet realized that it was caught in a classic pincer.

Emily grinned at Rudd.  “We’ve got him; he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Rudd nodded in agreement.  He thumbed his comm. “Squadrons one and two, take him high.  Three and four, low.  Five and six, take any opening you see.  First missile on my command, then swarm him.”

They watched the holo display, magnifying the view until they could see the specks of the gunboats approach the larger red triangle of the cruiser.  It looked like a pack of wild…well, grogin, loping in on prey.

“Fire first missile!  Prepare to fire lasers!” Rudd ordered.  He turned to Emily and smiled.  “Damn, I love this stuff!”

Then he looked back at the holo display and turned ashen.  “Oh, shit.”

* * * *

Twenty thousand miles northeast of the
Lionheart
and the skirmish being fought there, the twelve tugboats were cruising the top of the asteroid belt.  Their drives were powered low in a feeble attempt to make the tugboats stealthy.  The tugs operated in six pairs, each pair looking for smaller asteroids roughly the size of a house.  When they found one they would come up beside it from behind, lock onto it with tractor beams and carefully lift to the top of the asteroid field, keeping it at the same speed relative to the field.  So far they had only found and positioned three rocks big enough, or small enough, to work with.  There were lots and lots of small chunks of rock and debris floating in the asteroid belt, but they were too small.  Conversely – or
perversely –
thought Hiram, from there the asteroids seemed to jump to the size of a large building.  Those would be harder to extract from the asteroid field and extremely difficult to position properly for an attack.  The middle size turned out to be in short supply.

“Think we’ve got a fourth one,” Peter Murphy said over the comm.  “It’s about ten miles in and fifteen miles west of here. I’ve got two tugs on it now.  Should know in a few more minutes.”  Murphy didn’t ask what was happening elsewhere and Hiram did not tell him about the escalating fight by the
Lionheart
.  He needed the tug captains focused on finding the proper sized rocks and pulling them out of the asteroid field, nothing else.  Meanwhile he had the
Oxford
and the
Edinburgh
drifting along the top of the asteroid belt about five hundred miles in front of the tugs and the carrier
Haifa.
  They had watched anxiously as more Dominion warships raced to oppose the
Lionheart
, but so far Hiram’s task force had not been noticed.  That couldn’t last long, he knew.  They had to make their attack and soon.

“Murphy,” he commed, “anything you can do to speed things up?”

“Well sure,” Murphy replied, a little testily.  “Just give me a better quality asteroid field, or tell me that we only need three rocks and I’ll tell you we’re ready.  Otherwise just let us do our job.”

“Commander Brill?”  It was
Haifa’s
Wing Commander, Avi Yaffe.

“Yes, Wing Commander, what is it?”

“I think we should launch the gunboats.  Our sensor horizon this close to the asteroid field is very short.  If the Ducks find us we will have only a minute or two warning, not enough time to scramble the boats in time to help.”

Hiram frowned.  “I thought the boat pilots were in their launch pads with hot engines.  All they have to do is launch.  We can have forty boats in the air in a few seconds.”

Yaffe stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.  “Well, Commander, that’s true enough, but just because the boats are launched doesn’t mean that they are anywhere near where we
need
them to be.  Right now it is about a fifteen minute flight to the tugboats, and maybe a twenty to thirty minute flight to the destroyers.  Take your pick, but in either case by the time we get there with the gunboats, the tugboats could be shot to shit or the destroyers could be pretty well chewed up.  What we need, sir, is to have the gunboats providing support on site so that if the Ducks find us, the gunboats are right there and can help.”

Hiram sighed inwardly.  He should have thought of that.  “Good suggestion, Yaffe.  Go ahead and implement it immediately.  Anything else you think we should be doing?”

Yaffe slowly nodded.  “Well, sir, since you asked, I’ve been watching the battle with the
Lionheart
and the Duck cruisers.  That could turn bad pretty quick.  If the Ducks throw more ships at ‘em they may need some help from us as well.”

Hiram suppressed a wince.  No plan survives first contact with the enemy, wasn’t that the old saying?  “What do you suggest?” he asked.

“Let’s send forty of our gunboats to support the tugs and the destroyers, with the bulk of them on the tugs since they are the most critical piece of all of this.  Keep twenty or so in reserve and use them where we need them.  Also, let’s get a couple of recon drones up to extend our sensor reach.  Come to think of it, we ought to send a couple of jammers up as well.  If we see some Ducks about to trip on us, we can hit them with jamming and buy the tugs an extra few minutes before the Ducks can lock on to a firm target.  It might make all the difference.”

Hiram nodded again.  “Do it, Wing Commander.”  He switched channels to talk again with Peter Murphy.

“How’s that rock look, Murphy?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Too big,” Murphy replied shortly.  “We’re still looking.  Seem to have a pocket of slightly smaller rocks here, so we’ll find something.  I’ll call you, Hiram, as soon as I have something worth reporting.”  He didn’t exactly say, ‘Don’t bother me again,’ but his tone carried the message loud and clear.

Hiram sighed.   Who would have thought that in a giant asteroid field it would be hard to find six bloody rocks?

* * * *

              “Oh shit,” Rudd gasped.  Emily’s head snapped up.  She bit back a curse.  A second Dominion  cruiser and three frigates appeared on the sensors, hurtling directly towards the
Lionheart
and the
Wellington.
Geez, couldn’t they have waited just ten minutes?

              “Toby, get me a direct line to Captain Eder and Captain Hillson.”

              Seaman Partridge tapped in the proper code on his console.  “You’re up, Ma’am.”

              “
Lionheart
and
Wellington
, this is Commander Tuttle.  Our drone has picked up a second Duck cruiser and three – I repeat, three – frigates emerging from the asteroid field at high speed and bearing down on you.  ETA twenty minutes.”

              Captain Eder studied the sensors, but the jamming and fields of chaff degraded his sensors as well as the Dominion cruiser’s he was stalking.  “Tuttle, when will your birds hit the first cruiser?”

              Emily glanced at the status board.  “We have six Squadrons hitting it now, sir.  They have fired one missile and are moving closer for another shot.”

              Eder nodded once.  “Okay, Commander, tell your birds we are coming in from the south west and will be firing lasers.  Our ‘Friend or Foe’ is squawking, but I would appreciate it if they did not shoot any missiles at us.  We will come in with heavy lasers and whatever missiles that have been loaded in time.  I expect to fire in-“ he glanced at his display – “four minutes. 
Lionheart
out.”

              Hillson flashed an unexpected grin.  “Emily, tell your nasty little grogin that I’ll forgive them this one time if they don’t leave anything for us.  The way the Ducks are coming in there’ll be plenty to go around. 
Wellington
out.”

              Emily studied the holo display.  The entire battle was now shaped like an upside-down “L,” with the short arm projecting out to the right along the axis of the asteroid field.  The tugboats and the
Haifa
were on that short arm, gathering rocks.  The destroyers
Oxford
and
Edinburgh
were there, guarding them, and so far the Ducks were not paying any attention to them.

              On the long arm of the “L,” the Lionheart and Wellington were mixing it up with the Duck destroyers and the first cruiser, but now the second cruiser and its escorts were moving down the long arm of the “L” to join the fray.

              And right at the junction of the small and long arms of the “L,” lay the Siegestor, the Dominion’s secret shipyard.

              The comm screen lit up; it was Grant Skiffington, Wing Commander on the carrier
Fes.

              “I know what you want, Grant, and the answer is no,” she said before he could speak.

Grant stared at her, jaw flexing.  “We should launch my boats on the second cruiser right now, Emily.  We can-“

              “I said ‘no,’ Grant.  You are my only reserve.  Don’t worry, you’ll see plenty of action, but right now I need you where you are.”

              Skiffington’s face flushed red.  “Dammit, Emily, we can take out the second-“

              Emily reached across and cut off the communication.  No time for this.  “Sensors, ETA on second cruiser and the escort?”

              “Fifteen minutes before they’ll be in close missile range of the
Lionheart
,” the Sensors Officer replied crisply.  “With all the jammers and chaff floating around, I’d be surprised if they can achieve a target lock before that.”

              Emily thought about that for a moment and recalled some of the training exercises Alex Rudd had thrown at her and the other recruits, particularly the storage facility that had to be defended.  “Toby!  Get me Captain Eder on the comm!”

              Eder came on a moment later and Emily explained what she had in mind.  Eder considered it, then nodded once.  “It means we have to take out the first cruiser right off, but I think we can do that.”  He stroked his chin.  “Okay, Tuttle, let’s try it.  The alternative is a straight run in, which is risky and rather dull.”

* * * *

The sixty-three heavy gunboats from the
Rabat
descended on the first Dominion cruiser like the wrath of God.

They fired their first round of missiles close in, giving the cruiser’s anti-missile defenses little time to react.  Then the second missiles.  Then they fired the ten-inch lasers.  Incredibly, the cruiser’s anti-missile defenses sputtered to life and promptly jammed, decoyed or shot down a total of eighty missiles.  The next forty missiles hadn’t yet reached the cruiser when the lasers struck, scouring many of the anti-missile defense emplacements off the hull and leaving huge rents in the side.  Air and debris boiled out like pus from a suppurating wound.

The gunboats turned to run parallel to the cruiser while they recharged their lasers.  All of the gunboats crews whooped and hollered.  They were about to bag a Duck cruiser…and it felt wonderful!  Without further thought or any consultation, all of the gunboat crews did the same thing: they diverted their second engine to recharge the ten-inch laser that had just been fired.  It would take thirty seconds, and during those thirty seconds their acceleration rate would be significantly reduced, keeping them close to the enemy ship.

The Group Commanders, sitting next to each other on the
Rabat,
exchanged a look and both nodded, and then signaled their respective Squadrons to fire all remaining missiles and break off.  Another one hundred and twenty missiles shot out, their target so close and so big that they followed a straight trajectory.  There was no need to weave and turn and jam.  The missiles simply sprinted forty miles and smashed headlong into the already scarred hull of the cruiser.  Missiles struck thunderously from below, from the port side and from above. Pieces of hull peeled off the ship and tumbled into space, air vented, tongues of flame shown through cracks and rents, anti-missile pods collapsed and disintegrated.  Each missile gouged a hole in the cruiser and the missiles that followed smashed deeper and deeper, probing the soft interior, seeking a critical path, a vulnerable opening.  Explosions riddled the interior spaces, shrapnel and concussion killing all they touched.  Fireballs raced down corridors and up utility shafts, always getting closer and closer.  In moments the air inside the cruiser scorched lungs and eyeballs in equal measure.  The fires sucked in all available oxygen and roared like a berserk, vengeful demon.

The final missile exploded a mere twenty feet from the antimatter drives. Two thousand pounds of high-yield explosive turned its immediate surroundings into a maelstrom of plasma. The final bulkhead blew out and the superheated plasma reached the object of its desire.