TFS Navajo: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 3 (10 page)

Having remained in active service for over one hundred Terran years past their expected lifetimes, the
Rusalovs
were, in many ways, relics from a bygone age. Designed by Wek engineers before energy weapons had reached a level of power output and reliability deemed worthy of their most powerful warships, the
Rusalovs’
main armaments had originally included traditional, two-stage gas-powered main guns only marginally more advanced than those relying solely on gunpowder to launch their projectiles. While effective enough for short range space combat and planetary bombardment, the weapons could not propel their shells at sufficient speeds to eliminate the need for explosive warheads. In fact, these weapons had more in common with Terran ocean-going battleship guns dating back to the early twentieth century and beyond than they did modern, kinetic energy weapons. As the Sajeth Collective expanded, however, their designers gained access to increasingly advanced technology, and steadily upgraded existing ship designs to take advantage of the corresponding improvements in weapon systems. For the
Rusalov
-class battleships, this decades-long progression ultimately led to an interesting hodgepodge of systems — anachronisms extended and enhanced to ultimately become some of the most powerful ever produced by the shipyards of Graca.

Perhaps the most significant upgrade, and the one most responsible for keeping the
Rusalovs
active in the Sajeth Collective fleet, was the replacement of the ships’ original main guns with electromagnetic projectile launchers that the Wek now referred to as simply “kinetics.” In spite of their “modernization,” the weapons still hurled massive shells at distant enemy targets — and at over eight hundred kilograms each, the projectiles rivaled the largest ever fired by seagoing battleships. Once fired, the
Rusalovs’
self-guided rounds proceeded downrange at a comparatively glacial pace of only five thousand kilometers per second — technically placing them squarely in the archaic “hypervelocity” category. What they lacked in speed, however, the weapons did their best to make up for in terms of mass, accuracy, and the addition of a nuclear warhead approximately five times as powerful as those carried by most Sajeth Collective anti-ship missiles. While the Wek engineers knew all too well that speed trumped mass when it came to kinetics weapon design, the huge guns were still deemed viable. Ironically, this was partially due to the ongoing development of a
defensive
system still in the early stages of development when the battleships were first commissioned — shields.

In the years that followed, Wek shield systems had proven so effective that point defenses had been all but eliminated from most warship classes. The same was true of “small caliber” kinetics — such as the railguns favored by their Human rivals. This was in large part due to the practical difficulties associated with allowing steady streams of projectiles to pass through the shields on the way to their targets. This problem had been relatively easy to overcome for energy weapons by coordinating the phase and frequency of the beam emitters used. For kinetic energy weapons, however, the solution turned out to be much less exotic: fire fewer rounds and drop the shields for each. The
Rusalovs’
main guns were, after all, only capable of firing at the leisurely rate of one round every thirty seconds. Accordingly, the designers had taken the eminently practical approach of switching off specific field emitters during the forty microseconds it took for a shell to pass through the space normally occupied by the vessels’ shields. In an effort to prevent an enemy from predicting the precise instant when this would occur, the ships’ AIs inserted random intervals of time between successive salvos. Otherwise, the mighty battleships relied on an impressive three meters of armor to render their enemies’ attacks a bitter exercise in futility — or so they hoped.

With the six
Rusalov
battleships now largely slaved to the
Gunov,
many of their hopelessly outdated command and control systems were rendered largely irrelevant as they became mere extensions of the flagship’s vastly more sophisticated AI. Now, as the Terran ships reached optimal range, the two massive “gunhouse” turrets mounted dorsally amidships rotated in the general direction of the lead ship in each enemy formation, paused momentarily, and opened fire.

“Will the Humans not simply execute a rapid series of transitions to avoid the incoming rounds?” Freyda asked, growing uncharacteristically nervous under Sarafi’s intense scrutiny.

Sarafi raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, as if he, himself, were considering the question for the first time. “Perhaps they will, but they most likely have gathered some data at this point regarding the effectiveness of our shields. If that is indeed the case, they will realize that executing rapid transitions will not be a particularly effective tactic. They cannot hope to destroy any of our remaining ships without first bringing down its shields … and they cannot hope to bring down our shields without a sustained, heavy bombardment. No, Commander, I suspect that they will attempt to utilize the combined firepower from each of their formations for that very purpose … relying on their own shields to protect them from the battleships’ main guns. Let us hope that doing so will prove a fateful mistake for the Humans.”

Freyda looked up from her Command workstation and stared openly at her commanding officer under a furrowed brow. She was becoming increasingly convinced that Sarafi had access to a great deal more information regarding the capabilities of the Terran forces than she did, which seemed equal parts confusing, troubling, and downright irritating from her perspective.

Noticing the look on her face, he leaned closer and spoke in a low tone that only she could hear. “We will discuss this topic at length when we are at leisure, Commander Freyda. For now, I would ask that you listen carefully to what I am able to tell you and take what I say at face value.”

“Understood, sir,” she replied after a moment’s consideration.

Seconds later, as the first thirty-six projectiles fired from the
Rusalov
battleships reached the attacking Terran warships all around the battlespace, all but eight (nearly eighty percent) of the massive shells breached their enemies’ shields and struck within just a few meters of their intended points of impact. Four of the six targeted Human warships suffered a minimum of four hits each, and the results were beyond Commodore Sarafi’s most optimistic expectations. All four were completely destroyed, with gigantic sections of their broken hulls spinning off into space in multiple directions. A huge section of one of the vessels even managed to collide with the neighboring ship in its formation — almost certainly removing it as an immediate threat in the current battle. The hulls of the final two ships targeted by the initial salvo remained intact, but both appeared to be heavily damaged and likely to be permanently dispatched with only minimal additional effort.

Glancing at the tactical situation display at his workstation, Sarafi called up the AI’s real-time analysis of one of the Terran vessels in the moments before it had been destroyed. As he had suspected, its shields, while obviously employing an entirely different type of technology than that used by Sajeth Collective vessels, were equally vulnerable to attacks from such large projectiles. A distant part of his mind mused momentarily that effective shield design perhaps wasn’t as simple as merely dissipating kinetic energy. Indeed, the huge shells fired from the
Rusalov
battleships carried less energy than the dramatically smaller projectiles fired by the Terran ships — which, by contrast, were traveling at relativistic speeds. Was there something about the sheer physical size of the shells that posed a greater challenge … and for both types of shield systems? Not for the first time, Sarafi silently cursed the shortsightedness of the bureaucrats who had steered the Governing Council’s military planning committee into largely abandoning kinetic energy weapons aboard all of their newer warship classes.

“I can now confirm
Rusalov
main battery hits on six of the Terran warships, sir.” Freyda reported. “Four have been completely destroyed. Three others appear to be heavily damaged … one of these was from collateral damage caused by a collision with debris.”

“Well done,” Sarafi replied. “The rest will likely get much more difficult to hit now that they realize how effective our guns are against their shields. Once they have time to accelerate, the Terran ships are much faster than the
Rusalovs’
shells, after all. Get as many hits as you can as quickly as you can.”

“It will be my pleasure, sir,” she replied. “The second volley is already in flight. Time to impact, one six seconds.”

Sarafi barely heard his XO’s response, having already shifted his attention to the three-ship destroyer attack on, as luck would have it, one of the two Terran “formations” that was now composed of only a single warship. Understandably, the enemy ship had broken off to port after the other two vessels in its small group had been destroyed — seconds after beginning their own attack run on the nearest
Rusalov
battleship. In response, the
Gunov’s
AI had adjusted their course and speed to arrive at a point directly above their target — diving to close the remaining distance while offering the maximum number of beam emitter emplacements a clear line of fire.

“They have obviously detected our approach,” Freyda observed. “Why have they chosen not to open fire?”

As if in response to her question, all of the remaining Terran ships still capable of doing so transitioned into hyperspace in ten simultaneous flashes of grayish-white light.

“They have transitioned again, sir,” Sarafi’s tactical officer reported.

“All of them?”

“There were ten hyperspace departure signatures. They appear to have left their three damaged warships to fend for themselves. Two of these appear to have lost power. The third is moving away from our forces using their sublight engines.”

“Time to intercept the third vessel from our current position?”

“She is very nearly on the opposite side of our perimeter, Commodore and accelerating rapidly at the moment. We can still catch her without transitioning to hyperspace, but it will take a while — approximately six minutes at her current rate of acceleration.”

“Very good, do it.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Freyda interjected, “but can we not simply transition to a point just beyond the target to perform our intercept?”

“Ordinarily, I would say that is precisely what we should do, but, based on the fact that the Humans located our second rally point so quickly, we must assume that they have developed the capability to track our vessels in hyperspace. If we transition, we could very well be telegraphing our intentions. Have you not also noticed that they appear to be making lengthy transitions without significantly changing their locations?”

“Between their first and second attacks? Yes, sir, I did.”

“As you know, we have used such tactics ourselves at times, but doing so requires us to relocate our forces to an intermediate location, then transition back to the combat zone.”

“And you believe that they are simply entering hyperspace, remaining stationary — perhaps even repositioning their vessels — before returning to normal space? I realize that such a thing is possible, but do you believe them capable of that kind of technological prowess so recently after achieving interstellar travel? Our own ships cannot do so … even after centuries of hyperdrive development.”

“We cannot do so at the moment, no, but our scientists and engineers fully grasp the underlying physics regarding why that is so. We understand many such things from a theoretical perspective. We have simply not yet dedicated sufficient time and resources into translating that knowledge into practical application,” Sarafi replied, his voice taking on a more harsh, menacing tone. “You used the word ‘achieve,’ Commander. Bear in mind that the Humans have ‘achieved’ very little of their current technological capabilities on their own. So, yes, I believe them capable of many things that would, under normal circumstances, remain well beyond their grasp for centuries to come. That dangerous paradox of capability without the discipline and knowledge required for achievement is fundamentally why we are here, is it not?”

“Well said, Commodore. It is indeed,” Freyda replied solemnly.

“Have the closest
Rusalovs
target the two disabled Terran warships and destroy them immediately.”

Freyda hesitated, looking up from her Command workstation to stare into her commanding officer’s eyes, hoping she had somehow misheard what he had said. She knew better than to question Sarafi’s orders in front of the bridge crew, particularly when he began speaking in that distant, angry — almost patronizing — voice that he tended to slip into at times.
The truly dangerous thing about zealots,
she thought,
is not so much that they are completely wrong but rather that they passionately believe themselves to be completely right.

“Ragini,” he began again in a much more conciliatory tone. “I understand and share your reluctance to destroy the damaged Terran vessels. If, however, we still believe that our reasons for ever contemplating this mission in the first place were and remain just, then we have little choice in the matter. It is my belief that the Humans currently possess only a few vessels with the capabilities demonstrated by the ships attacking us now. In fact, what we are facing here today may well constitute their entire fleet. If that is the case, we must do everything within our power to eliminate them now if we are to have any chance of success once we launch our attack on Terra.”