The Cost of Victory Page 11

  "Entering missile launch range now, Admiral." Simon paused, struggling to lift her head to look at her boards. "Sir, it does not appear that the enemy fleet is launching."

  Garret wasn't sure why the enemy was holding fire. Unless they were also low on ordnance, they could launch multiple unanswered volleys before his ships zipped past them and entered the warp gate. Not that it mattered. He'd done everything he could. His ships were blasting hard and heading for the warp gate. The AIs were ready for missile defense, and his crews were suited up and strapped into their couches. It was time to run the gauntlet.

  "We are well within launch range, sir." Commander Deng's voice was urgent. The enemy fleet was approaching them at high velocity; they were only going to have a brief window for missile barrages before their targets raced past them and through the warp gate. Yet Admiral Liang had held back the launch order.

  "I am aware of that, Commander Deng." Liang's tone was abrupt. He didn't like having his orders questioned under any circumstances, but there was more at stake here than Deng could know. This was no normal battle; in a sense, it wasn't a battle at all. Liang didn't care what damage he did to the Alliance fleet or even how badly his own ships were hit. All he cared about was killing one man...Augustus Johnson Garret. "I want Cromwell targeted as soon as the enemy is close enough for scanners to ID her."

  The Powers had extensive records of each others' naval rosters, particularly capital ships. When the range was close enough, the computers could easily ID individual vessels...and Liang intended to throw everything he had at one enemy ship. Normally, he wouldn't have the luxury of holding fire this long; in a normal engagement the enemy's first volleys would have reached him already, forcing him to jettison his external racks if he hadn't launched them. But Liang was facing an adversary with little or no capacity to launch a missile attack, so he could afford to wait for his target.

  "We have Cromwell identified, sir." Deng paused briefly as he scanned his readouts. "94% probability."

  Liang smiled. Good enough. "All ships are to activate external missile launchers. Fire plan codename silver dragon." Liang had programmed his own fire control directive into the computer, overriding standard target selection protocols.

  Deng's hands raced over his boards, control the flow of information to the various ships of the fleet and instructing their fire control computers to download the specified targeting directives. "Fire plan silver dragon locked into the fleet AI." He glanced at his screen. "All ships ready to launch. Awaiting fleet command order."

  Liang stared up at the main screen, where a partial schematic of the Alliance fleet was displayed, ships being added as they were scanned and identified. He took a deep breath, something he'd hardly been able to do since that day he stood before the Committee. Now he was on the verge of success. Without turning his head, he uttered a single word. "Launch."

  "Enemy launches detected! Multiple platforms." Lieutenant Simon's tone was excited, but she spoke slowly, deliberately. At 10g, that is the best she could manage.

  Nelson was telling Garret the same thing through his earpiece, but he let his crew go through the motions. He wasn't planning to reduce the acceleration rate, which meant his crew was basically out of the battle, stuck in their couches with little to do. But it would relieve the stress and fear somewhat to feel like they were busy, so he indulged it while the AIs did the real work. "Very well, Lieutenant. Keep me advised."

  "Admiral, I am detecting an unconventional pattern on the incoming missile strike." Nelson's voice was calm and unemotional as always, untroubled by the crushing g forces. "Analyzing now."

  Simon was a few seconds behind Nelson. "Sir, we are detecting a stran..."

  "Hold that, lieutenant." Garret was waiting for Nelson's follow up. He didn't know why they'd waited so long to launch, and now he was trying to determine what they were up to.

  Nelson continued after a few seconds. "Incoming missile spread is abnormally focused." Another short pause. "Analysis of thrust patterns indicates continuing shrinkage of target area." Garret was just coming to a conclusion when Nelson confirmed his developing thought. "Admiral, it appears that the entire incoming volley is targeted at Cromwell."

  Again, Lieutenant Simon was a few seconds behind Nelson. "Admiral, the entire strike is targeting us...I mean Cromwell." Simon had tremendous poise for so young an officer, but he could hear the stress in her voice now.

  Garret forced another deep breath. Is that it, he thought...is this just a glorified assassination attempt? There was definitely an intelligence leak somewhere.

  "Admiral Garret..." Flag Captain Charles' voice followed Nelson's in Garret's earpiece. He closed the visor on his helmet so they could speak privately.

  "Yes, Byron?" Garret knew what was coming.

  "We have to get you off the ship, sir." There was extreme urgency in Charles' voice. He knew his ship was unlikely to survive the coming fight.

  "That's out of the question, Byron."

  Garret's tone had left no room for argument, but Charles wasn't dissuaded. "Sir, you know there's a good chance we won't get through this. You are giving the enemy what they want." He paused to take a labored breath. "There is still time to get you off the Cromwell before the barrage hits."

  "Byron, there is no way - no way - I am going to abandon this ship and crew to run and save my own skin."

  "But, sir..."

  "That's the last word, Captain Charles." Garret's voice was stern. Abandoning his flagship just wasn't in him, and leaving the crew behind to die while he ran away was utterly unthinkable.

  "Now detecting a second wave of missiles, Admiral." Nelson paused a second, then continued. "Preliminary analysis indicated a similar pattern to the first volley."

  So that's it, Garret thought. They're expending an entire fleet's ordnance just to kill me. I suppose it's flattering, he mused with grim humor. Though the thought of everyone on Cromwell dying because of him drove away even dark amusement.

  "Nelson, I want a plan to fire what missiles we have in defense of Cromwell. Maximum coverage timed to intercept the enemy first wave." He didn't have many missiles, but all of them were multiple warhead weapons. Every 200 megaton bomb would destroy any incoming missile over a 10 kilometer radius. The key was timing the launches and subsequent detonations to catch the enemy missiles in the blast zone.

  The fleet AIs couldn't modify the fleet's thrust plan without jeopardizing the ability of some ships to hit the warp gate, but they did reorder targeting priorities and combine the entire force in a single defensive array around Cromwell.

  The missiles were fired first, detonating along the projected path of the incoming attack. The enemy missiles were bunched together as they closed on their single target, and the Alliance fleet AIs were able to take out over half the first wave, the incoming weapons consumed in the thermonuclear fire of Garret's limited defensive barrage. Point defense rockets and lasers tore into the remaining missiles, and only five got close enough to Cromwell to have an effect.

  The ship shook violently as it was impacted by multiple shockwaves. Only one missile got near enough to cause serious damage, but that one was close indeed, and it tore into the starboard side of the ship, ripping open compartments and knocking out the control system for one of the reactors.

  Garret lurched forward out of his couch as the Cromwell's engines shut down with the power loss and the intense g forces of acceleration abruptly stopped. He was already getting damage control reports from Nelson. Normally, he left Cromwell to Captain Charles and concerned himself with the overall condition of the fleet. But Cromwell was the only fleet unit currently under attack.

  "Enemy second wave incoming, sir." Simon's voice was somber. "Estimate to detonation range, 3 minutes."

  It was going to be worse this time, Garret thought. He had no missiles left and would have to rely entirely on conventional point defense. And they weren't going to get their engines back online in three minutes, which meant his course was even more predictable
than it had been - straight ahead at a constant velocity. Cromwell couldn't have been an easier target.

  Garret was about to order all personnel to abandon non-essential outer compartments when he heard Captain Charles issue the same order. "Ok, Byron, it's your ship," he was muttered softly to himself.

  "Admiral, I insist that you leave the ship at once." Charles again in his earpiece. His voice was almost frantic. He knew the chances Cromwell had of coming through this.

  Garret was about to answer when Lieutenant Simon had the same idea. She stood up and turned to face his command chair. "Admiral, you have to leave the Cromwell."

  He spoke to both of them at once. "Under no circumstances am I going to leave the ship. We will get through this attack." A slight pause. "Now we all have better things to do, so return to your posts immediately."

  "Thirty seconds to projected enemy detonations." Nelson, at least, was remaining on point, Garret thought. There was nothing else to do, so he sat quietly, watching the readouts on the effect of the fleet's point defense on the incoming missiles. They were doing well, but not well enough.

  All around the Cromwell, space erupted into atomic fury as warhead after warhead exploded. At least ten were close enough to cause significant damage, and the Cromwell shook violently. Power flickered, then failed as the second reactor was destroyed. Entire sections of the ship were torn away, the men and women stationed there killed immediately or blown into space. Their pressure suits would keep them alive for a while, but the fleet was not stopping to conduct rescue operations so they had little hope of survival. Even if there was a chance of rescue, the space around Cromwell was an unhealthy place for an unprotected person, and many would be exposed to massive heat waves and high radiation levels. Along the port side, an entire chunk of the ship was torn off, four decks and over 30 crew members tumbling off into space, powerless and out of control.

  The flag bridge was dimly lit, the reserve batteries providing limited power to run the vital systems. Debris was strewn about, and life support systems were failing. Garret's people were still at their stations, working feverishly, though there was little they could truly do. They were still in the middle of the second barrage, but their scanners showed the third one seven minutes out. They might survive the current attack...barely. The third was a death sentence.

  Garret was about to direct Captain Charles to order all non-essential personnel to abandon ship...and he was going to tell his people to go too, though he doubted they would obey. His action was cut short by the detonation of one of the last missiles of the second wave. The warhead exploded less than 8 kilometers from Cromwell. The shockwave smacked into the foundering ship, sending it spinning violently. All through the Cromwell, structural members failed and entire sections of the ship collapsed.

  Garret was strapped to his chair when the huge plasti-steel girder gave way and crashed to the deck. He couldn't remember it hitting him...one minute he was in his command chair and the next we was lying under the massive beam. He didn't feel any pain, only the taste of blood on his lips. Around him his people struggled and shouted as they tried desperately to somehow control an uncontrollable situation.

  He was vaguely aware of people talking to him, straining to try to move the debris that pinned him to the deck. But all that seemed distant, ephemeral. His mind filled with strange thoughts, old memories. He was a cadet again, newly arrived at the Academy. He could almost smell the rose bushes in the admiral's garden. She was there too...the girl he'd left for the service, her long red hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Young Augustus Garret wanted glory - and he'd gotten more than his share. But what had he lost....what had he left behind? His mind drifted slowly, steadily, until the growing darkness took him.

  Chapter 10

  I Corps HQ

  Columbia - Eta Cassiopeiae II

  "But Epsilon Eridani is a backwater. It was a moderately productive mining colony, but from what I hear it was shut down completely by some plague. Why the hell would they scrap the rest of Sherman to send us there?" Cain's voice was strained. He was trying to control his anger, but it had been a frustrating morning.

  General Holm sat at the head of the conference table, his expression blank, unreadable. The general was wearing his poker face and not letting anyone know what he was thinking. The discussion had been subdued, mostly because the damned political officers were there too. They'd more or less been staying out of the way until the previous day. Clearly, they'd gotten their own orders regarding this entire Epsilon Eridani matter, and they'd been stuck to their assigned officers like glue ever since. Cain was the closest to boiling over, but a lot of the others were getting sick of it too.

  "Erik, we don't know everything yet. We have to assume there is a good reason." He stared briefly at Cain, not long enough for anyone else to notice. Erik Cain was a great soldier, maybe the best Holm had ever seen. But no one was about to assign him to the diplomatic corps. Blunt, direct, and incredibly stubborn, Cain simply would not, in his mind, lower himself to consider the politics of a situation. He considered politicians something he'd scrape off his boot with a stick - and maybe he'd wear a glove when he did it. Holm was just grateful that Cain's political officer hadn't ended up in a ditch somewhere.

  "Indeed, Colonel Cain. The general is correct. It is not our purpose to initiate matters of grand strategy or question orders from the high command, but simply to execute those directives as effectively as possible." Captain Peter Warren was the political officer assigned to "assist" Cain, a job he'd found to be challenging to say the least.

  Cain flushed with anger, but he'd understood the general's brief glance, and he bit down hard on his rage. "Understood, general. I can assure you that 1st Brigade will be ready to execute its orders." He looked right at Holm, ignoring the political officer as if he didn't exist.

  "I want all of you to have your units ready to begin uploading in five days." Holm tapped on his 'pad briefly. "I have transmitted berthing assignments for all formations. There have been some changes, so I want everyone to review these within the hour and contact my staff with any questions or concerns. Now is the time to address any issues, not in five days."

  Holm looked back at Cain. "Erik, your brigade is 100% ready, so you should have some free time. Major Linden will be returning this afternoon; her ship just entered orbit. She's going to have a tight schedule getting her people ready in five days from a standing start. I'd like you to assist in any way possible." Holm had a good poker face, but he couldn't hold back a tiny smile. Most of the officers at the table were well aware that Cain and I Corps beautiful medical chief of staff were lovers.

  "Yes, sir!" The sour expression he'd worn all morning softened considerably.

  Holm's eyes scanned the seated officers. "Very well. I will want to meet with each of you individually to review your unit statuses. Lieutenant Raynor will get back to you with schedules. In the meantime we all have work to do, so let's get to it. Dismissed."

  The assembled officers rose, snapping off salutes to the general before heading to the door. Holm allowed himself a passing grin as he watched Cain walk out. He must be happy, Holm thought. He even managed a textbook grade salute!

  Cain walked briskly across the quad, and for the first time in quite a while there was a smile on his face. Sarah Linden had been the executive officer of medical services for Operation Sherman. When the campaign was suspended, she accompanied the wounded to Armstrong, the Marines' hospital planet, personally supervising the care and transfer of over 6,000 injured men and women. Cain had personal experience with just how good a doctor Sarah Linden truly was, and he couldn't imagine how many lives she'd saved.

  Now she was back, and Erik couldn't wait to see her. It had been over six months and, though they were used to long periods apart, Erik had actually gotten accustomed to seeing her frequently on the campaign. Rank has its privileges, and if shuttling over to the med ship a few times was one of them, no one begrudged him. Not with his combat record.

&n
bsp; Sarah was billeted in the support services section of the camp, a fairly long walk from Cain's quarters adjoining 1st Brigade HQ. He figured she'd just gotten in, but why waste any time? He walked up to the entry and identified himself to the AI, and a few seconds later the door opened.

  Her quarters were large, not as plush as his now that he was a pretend general, but very nice nevertheless. Neither one of them would have anywhere near this much room once they boarded ship...though again, his acting-general status would get him a few extra square meters.

  He walked through the door as she came running up from the back room and threw her arms around his neck. "God, I missed you." Her voice was happy, but also tired.

  "I'm going to need to have you assigned as my personal doctor." He laughed softly as he held her tightly. "The separations are getting too hard."

  "Touching scene." Erik was startled by the voice coming from the darkened doorway to the back room. A familiar voice.

  Sarah smiled. "I have to tell you, I've been seeing another man." She giggled and stepped back as General Holm walked into the light.

  "I can't tell you two how haunted by guilt I am to interrupt this reunion." He grinned. He was joking, of course, but he did feel a little bad about his timing. "However, I am the closest thing to a matchmaker you two have. Except, of course, the nuke that sent you into her tender-loving care in the first place." Holm was, in fact, largely responsible for their relationship. They'd met when Sarah had nursed a badly wounded Erik back to health, but it wasn't until they spent six months together on Earth that they really became inseparable. And it was General Holm who'd gotten Sarah Linden assigned to that trip.