The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) (14 page)

The conversation stopped as everyone looked at her.

“Want to expand on that one, Faith?” Dandolo asked.

“When we jump in at Saturn, drop mines astern. With them falling into Saturn’s gravity well, they can’t follow from directly astern. If we put the torpedoes above and below us that will leave just the flanks open, from where
Minstrel
can bring her main battery to bear.”

“Sound fairs,” said Ozo. “Where do zigzags come in?”

“Random zigzags will stop them from getting into an optimum firing position.”

“With the amount of warning they’ll get, they can spread out and fire from all angles,” said Commander Valance. “
Minstrel
can put down one hell of a wall of fire, but only across a very limited arc.”

“If they try spreading out that much, they’ll have no mutual support,” said Dandolo. “The
Dauntless
and
Huáscar
will operate in support. If they spread out then our fighters will chop them up.”

“Especially if we make a couple of dummy runs out,” Ozo added.

“Okay,” Dandolo said, turning to one of the staff officers, “let’s try running this through Sims and see what happens.”

___________________________

13th February 2068
 

The Nameless escort had been holding position inside Earth’s mass shadow, providing its fleet with a forward picket. Although they were within the Red line, they had to remain far enough out so that their jump drives could still function – watching the orbiting ships and the planet below as the lights went out. When there was a flicker of light from astern as four human fighters jumped in right on the Red Line and powered down towards it, the Nameless reacted instantly. It was a race between the alien ship jumping clear and the accelerating fighters trying to get to within effective missile range. The Nameless ship won the race, disappearing to safety. As the four fighters peeled off, on the opposite side of the planet, another four were jumping in close to the picket’s second ship. Like the first, it retreated to safety, but the Nameless forward screen had suddenly evaporated.

On board
Black Prince
Willis tightened the straps of her seat restraints as the cruiser accelerated up and out of Earth’s orbit.

“Coms, Bridge. Signal from the
Dauntless
’s fighters: the door is open. Also general signal from Fleet Command: God Speed.”

Willis nodded tensely. On the main holo the blips for the convoy were separating from those of the rest of the fleet. The ten warships were formed up around the six tankers, two ammunition ships, a pair of general transports and one of the fleet’s FTL communications ships, all accelerating up and out of the gravity well, at the pace of the slowest ship. Two squadrons of American fighters formed an outer perimeter.

“This is too slow,” Chuichi muttered across the command channel

The Commander was standing on the bridge, ready to head aft to damage control once the action started, but until then maintaining his present position so that he would be aware of the tactical situation. Willis made no reply. It was slow, but equally it was exactly what they expected. This was as good as loaded transports could manage. If only there had been time to do as someone had suggested and strap on a set of old fashioned chemical rockets. The Nameless picket ships would return to station within minutes, sight the convoy and call for back up. How far could they get before that happened? Minutes crept past as the convoy continued to accelerate. On the main holo their ships crossed a dotted green line. Willis flicked her intercom to ship wide.

“All hands, this is the Captain. We have just crossed the abort line. We are now committed. That’s all.”

In the port side engine room, Guinness did as he always did when the Captain’s voice came across the intercom and glanced towards the bows. Stupid really, as there was never anything to be learned from the engine room bulkhead, but it was something he still did. The wait was agonising, would they get clear or not get out at all?

“Committed?” asked one of the engineering ratings.

“Weren’t you listening at the briefing?” Guinness reprimanded him, glancing at the forward bulkhead again. “Even if the transports go all astern, they’re carrying too much velocity to stop before they go over the Red Line. Now shut your yap.”

Damn, this was cruel! The reactors were ready to go to one hundred percent. The engines were barely going at fifty percent and only the flak guns were drawing power. She might be a jigsaw of a ship but
Black Prince
desperately wanted to stretch her legs. He could practically feel it. Guinness took a sip from his water reservoir and immediately regretted it as he suddenly wanted to urinate. He couldn’t. There wasn’t anything in his bladder to be pissed out. To distract himself he cycled through the system displays on his screen. Reactor One: okay, Reactor Two: okay, Engines One through Four: yes, yes, yes and yes, Jump Drive: okay, Computer: okay, Power Display…”

Across the main channel the action alarm went off. His display beeped as the cruiser’s six plasma cannons started to draw power.

Guinness looked down the engine bay.

“Okay, lads! This is it!”

“Bridge, Sensors. Contact! Contact jumping in, bearing zero seven three dash three zero five. Contact is... scout.”

“Understood, Sensors,” Willis replied as she checked her straps again. On the holo the American fighters wavered, their course diverging from the convoy for a moment before someone decided they couldn’t get to the scout fast enough to matter. The Americans settled back into their screening formation.

“Navigator?” Willis murmured.

“We are seventeen minutes from the Red Line. Jump calculations have been made.”

“Confirm the jump drive is ready?”

“Confirmed Captain.”

In the lead it would be
Fortitude
to open the jump portal. But if she was taken out or damaged, each ship had to be ready. Overhead she heard the whine of A Turret training out to starboard and the distant alien ship. The scout began to move, as always the newly arrived ship was nearly stationary, but started to accelerate, running parallel to the convoy. Those damn FTL sensors of theirs were undoubtedly probing to find the composition of the convoy.

“Bridge, Coms. Enemy FTL jammers are powering down. C band is opening up. The enemy scout is transmitting.”

“How the hell do they do that?” Chuichi growled, shaking his head. The jammers were dotted about the solar system. The Nameless used the same six transmission bands humanity had access to, but they also seemed to have access to another, which judging by effect seemed to allow them to shut down the jammers without the lag of radio transmitters.

“Not important, as long as they stay predictable,” Willis replied before turning towards the communications lieutenant to give him a questioning look.

“Groundside and orbital FTL transmitters are going active,” he confirmed.

The fleet had learned that from the lost colony of Landfall. There were three FTL transmitters on Earth and the fleet had another pair in orbiting communication ships. All of them had been waiting for this. The scout’s transmission was distorted and swamped as all five commenced the electronic equivalent of screaming across the same band. One band at a time, the distant jammers shut down as the scout tried to find a clear connection. Seconds then minutes were wasted as the scout tried to get the word out. All the while the convoy closed on the Red Line. Finally all six bands were open. The five human transmitters tried to follow and swamp the scout’s transmitter, but it could change band far quicker than its human counter parts.

“We’ve just picked up what seems to be an enemy reply to the scout,” the communications officer reported.

Willis nodded. The word was out.

“Seven more minutes to jump out,” said the Navigator, pre-empting her next question.

“Best head aft, Commander,” she said to Chuichi, “that’s the build up done.”

“Yes, Captain. See you at Saturn.”

The main hatch closed behind the Commander and the bridge went silent. The clock continued to count down.

“Three minutes to jump out.”

“Bridge, Sensors. Contacts! Multiple contacts bearing zero seven two dash three zero seven. Reading one cap ship, seven cruisers, eighteen escorts.”

“I see them,” Willis replied. “Fire Control, stand ready for instructions.”

“Understood.”

“Bridge, Coms, signal from the
Saladin
. It’s the Commodore.”

“My screen.”

Dandolo’s face appeared.

“Captain, I believe we can hold out for three minutes, so we’ll keep
Minstrel
in reserve.”

“Bridge, Sensors. Contact separation, we have incoming!” the voice of the speaker rose sharply. Two-dozen new contacts appeared on the screen and began to accelerate towards the convoy. Willis looked around her bridge. The old hands who been with her on
Hood
were calm, but the new ones –

“Steady people, they only outnumber us two to one. Helm, roll to port and present broadside.”

The first salvo couldn’t be much more than a probe and there wouldn’t be time for a second before the convoy crossed the Red Line. As she spoke, the plasma cannons started to fire methodically up at the approaching missiles. Two vanished as plasma bolts slammed into them. As it approached them, the American fighters thinned the salvo considerably. The flak guns started to track and fire, the thump of the guns reverberating through the ship. None of the missiles made it as far as point defence range.

“Contact heading change, they’re coming to…”

“I see it,” Willis cut him off. The Nameless squadron was turning towards Saturn. They’d guessed where the convoy was heading. Not too much of a feat.

“Bridge, Navigation, we’re crossing the Red Line now.
Fortitude
is jumping.”

“Helm, take us in,” Willis ordered.

The respite of jump space lasted no more than a few second before
Black Prince
thumped back into real space. Ahead Saturn loomed large and the gas giant’s ring of starforts appeared on the holo along with the planet’s extensive network of moons. The closest, Enceladue, with Chinese surface fortifications on each of its poles, formed Saturn’s outer perimeter and was five hours away at best speed.

“Captain, the
Dar Pomorza
is dropping mines.”

Willis had always doubted the Nameless would attempt to drop in directly behind them. Missiles following up the convoy’s wake would have the slowest possible approach speed. Still there was no point taking chances and the idea of a Nameless squadron blundering into a minefield was always a pleasant one. 

Black Prince
’s sensors caught a brief glimpse of them before they dropped below the sensor threshold. The American fighters that had followed them down the jump conduit redeployed into screening positions, while ahead new blips appeared as the squadrons based around Saturn launched. There was also the Nameless picket, holding position well clear of the Saturn defences. It began to transmit immediately and this time the distant Earth transmitters weren’t able to significantly block it. 
Fortitude
and the cruisers
Loki
and
Osiris
began to angle way from the convoy, as they prepared to jump away out past the heliopause to wait.

“Bridge, Sensors, contacts jumping in, bearing zero, six, nine dash zero, zero, nine, range one, one, zero kay.”

The cluster of red blips appeared off to starboard. Slightly ahead of the convoy and outside of their gun range, they were close enough for the Nameless to put down maximum weight of fire.

“Okay, we’re about to find out if
Minstrel
lives up to the billing,” Willis said to no one in particular.

“Contact separation, we have incoming.”

The speaker was calmer this time, but this salvo was a mix of small and large missiles. That meant scores of them were coming in, more than three cruisers and three destroyers could hope to stop, especially with lumbering transports ruling out evasive action.

“
Minstrel
is firing, Captain,” Sensors reported.

Willis flicked her screen to an external camera trained on the barrage ship. If this didn’t work out, then things were about to get very bad. As that thought crossed her mind, a glittering flash ran down the
Minstrel
’s flank. The muzzle velocity was only about fifteen hundred metres per second, low for any kind of railgun. With the projectiles set to burst at thirty thousand kilometres, transit time would be twenty seconds unless they met something first. The projectiles were small, but
Black Prince
’s radar was getting a good read on them as they slowly diverged from each other in a flat wall in front of the incoming missiles. Then they simultaneously detonated. A rectangular area of space became a mass of overlapping flashes just as the missile plunged in. Barely a quarter of them made it through only to run into the
Minstrel
’s next wave of projectiles. This time there was a rippling flash as the proximity fuses on some of the projectiles registered the missiles ahead and fired. The flak guns on board
Black Prince
remained silent, as the entire first salvo of missiles was obliterated.