Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5) (36 page)

“Alex,” the two Harakens said simultaneously and started laughing.

“Oh,” Reiko said, “forget I asked.” Then she joined in the laughter.

After the women settled down, Sheila considered the upcoming change and said, “When we add the empty barrages at the front of the queue, we’ll have to tag the new rocks and reorder the links between the tugs and the asteroids.”

Her comment caused Tatia and Reiko to groan. It would be the fourth time that the plan had a significant strategic change that necessitated a revamping of the data and the order of battle.

“At some point, people are going to think we don’t know what we’re doing,” Sheila joked.

“Throwing rocks to defeat a UE force led by capital ships doesn’t constitute that already?” deadpanned the diminutive Reiko.

Sheila clapped her hands in front of Reiko’s face, creating an explosive sound. “Squish like bug,” she said, and the women broke into laughter again.

Positioning of the derelict ships to use as screens for the carriers’ launches turned out to be a nonstarter. As Z put it to Alex, “It’s analogous to aiming a weapon. The projectiles are thrown by the carrier. The target is the fleet; its position we can’t anticipate. How do we set up a screen to hide our weapons when we don’t know where our targets will be in advance?”

Alex pulled up the holo-vid, which was loaded with the carrier’s staging position, the stock of carved-out asteroids, Idona, and Portland’s present position. He pulled up a chair, sat down, and stared at the holo-vid before he closed his eyes.

Reiko took a breath to raise a question, but felt Sheila’s big hand on her arm, signaling her to wait. She looked around the room and saw the three SADEs in frozen positions. It made Reiko wonder again what an implant would feel like and what she would be able to do with it. An image of Franz flashed through her mind. Noticing that Tatia and Sheila had adopted parade rest positions, she copied them.

“We’re trying too hard. Forget the idea of a screen as a wall. What we need is simple camouflage,” Alex said, a few moments later, opening his eyes, and the SADEs were nodding in agreement. He approached the holo-vid and images of ships began appearing. “Lay the ships out in an expanding cone at various distances from the carrier staging points up to and past the station. In fact, throw in a few ships behind the staging points. The UE warships have simpler telemetry returns with their guides. It will be difficult for them to distinguish the barrages as anything more than a storm originating in the belt and speeding past the station.”

Aboard the station, Nikki Fowler was inundated with requests from the stationers asking to help with Idona’s preparations. She organized work crews under engineers to ensure every emergency decompression door was operable, could seal tight, and actuated at the slightest drop in pressure. Food and water were distributed and stockpiled in each section in case people were trapped by the decompression doors.

Nikki spent hours with her engineers planning for various catastrophes. What helped her peace of mind was the fact that thousands of stationers would be aboard the ships, helping the Harakens prepare for Portland. At the same time, that meant there was little opportunity for evacuation of the station’s remaining residents and visitors, who were represented by a significant proportion of children.

Arrangements were made to begin moving people from the outer ring to the inner ring and core, which stood greater chances of surviving any errant missiles. It saddened Nikki that such a wonderful, social experiment as Idona Station, post the Harakens’ arrival, which had proven to be so successful might soon become space debris because of one man’s undying anger.

On the trip from Saturn’s moons, Portland regained much of his old assurance. He entertained thoughts of destroying the Harakens and Idona Station then proceeding on to the belt where he would use the mining hubs as bases, while he ransacked stations in the outer rim until the tribunes granted him immunity.

Portland’s great weakness was his assumption that he was a leader with absolute power, but that confidence was severely misplaced where it concerned his commanders. The admiral’s battle at Idona Station was a well-known event. Every commander in Portland’s fleet was aware of the beating he had taken, losing entire squadrons to the Harakens’ superior technology.

The senior officers possessed little information about the Harakens’ strange fighters, and that in itself was both odd and troubling. The question they often asked one another was, “Shouldn’t we have specifications and performance analysis of the enemy’s ships?”

Shimada was correct in her evaluation of Portland’s captains, especially those on the periphery of the fleet. To say they were nervous was an understatement. Most were wondering if the same fate as that of Portland’s lost squadrons was awaiting them in the upcoming battle. It caused them to consider it might be more prudent to abandon Portland and throw themselves on the mercy of the newly heralded UE policies.

Portland decided that his mistake in the first battle was to divide his forces. This time he would keep his fleet together, not spread along a thin line but stacked several ships high — a wedge formation. His winged battleship was securely nestled behind a front shield of ships with cruisers in close proximity.

Another of Portland’s decisions was to ignore any Haraken provocation, as he thought of the traditional-looking fighters that first attacked his squadrons. His plan was to strike at Idona and force the Harakens to defend the station, denying them their maneuverability and speed.
Let’s see how your technically superior fighters operate when pinned in place,
Portland thought.
And, if you run, I’ll demolish the station, and everyone will know you’re cowards.

The Harakens were ready for Portland as his fleet approached Idona Station on the ecliptic. The carriers were loaded with asteroids. The pilots were waiting in their travelers, formed up in squadrons, vessels of all sorts were gripping their second load of rocks in claws, and the station was as secure as Nikki could make it.

A full sub-wing of travelers, commanded by Franz Cohen, floated next to Commodore Shimada’s destroyer squadron. They were the last line of defense against Portland if the fighter wings under Sheila, Ellie, Deirdre, and Lucia failed to stop his warships.

“What a coincidence, Commander,” Reiko replied to Franz when he arrived. “I knew the battle plan assigned me a sub-wing of Haraken fighters, but imagine my surprise that they’re commanded by you.”

“Are you really surprised, Commodore?” Franz asked.

“No … no, I’m not. Quite pleased actually,” Reiko replied, and her bridge crew heard the lift in their commodore’s voice.

“So, after the fight, Commodore, dinner?” Franz asked.

A spate of snickers and chortles broke out on Shimada’s bridge, which even her glare failed to extinguish entirely. The thought of a witty barb in reply evaporated before it could even take hold. “Dinner together would be enjoyable. I look forward to it.”

When the comm closed, Shimada eyed her bridge crew and squadron officers and announced in a firm voice, “Okay, people, you heard. I have a dinner date. Now see that you do everything possible to ensure I get to my date.”

Edouard and Miko were comparing notes. Both spoke to Alex independently, questioning the possible actions to take after the bombardment and traveler attacks were launched. Their greatest concern was that Alex had committed every traveler to the fight. There wasn’t a single Haraken ship left aboard the station. Julien and Z were each aboard a carrier, while Cordelia chose to remain on the station, and Renée and the twins were with Alex, as anyone would have expected.

The captains found that Alex’s answer to each of them was the same. “After the bombardment, take a position off the station for the travelers’ return.” Alex’s answer bothered both of them, and they sought out Julien with their concerns.

“I’m not sure it matters whether our president is on the station or aboard a carrier,” Julien replied. “If the station’s people are lost, he might be too. The stationers are the innocents, the everyday people who are disregarded by those represented by Downing, Bunaldi, and Portland. To our president, the stationers are the people who matter the most.”

“Too many fights in a young life,” Miko said sympathetically.

“Or by staying aboard the station, he indicates that it’s time for us to take on the burden of the fighting,” Edouard said.

“Perhaps,” Julien said, “I, of all people, am forced to accept his stance since my partner has chosen to remain on station as well. The children of Idona, especially the orphans, have become precious to Cordelia, and their loss would be devastating to her. So they stay, saying to the people of the station, ‘Your fate is our fate.’”

Alone in their thoughts, Julien sought to shift the mood. “So, Captains, let us ensure it’s Admiral Portland and his ill-conceived minions who meet their fate today, not the good people of Idona.”

As the comm closed, images of Cordelia, the children of Idona, Alex, Renée, and the twins flashed through Julien’s crystal memory.
So many fragile treasures at risk,
he thought.

Julien sent on open comm to the Harakens, Nikki Fowler, Patrice Morris, and Reiko Shimada.

Julien’s report was for the allies since every Haraken was watching the fleet’s movement via controllers and holo-vids in real time, and if any single individual could be banished to their worst nightmarish afterlife by an entire population, Portland was being sent there by the people of Idona for his cowardice.

Z and Julien were linked and sharing calculations at an intense pace, forcing their internal cooling systems into overdrive. Data on the carriers’ loads, acceleration rates, velocity of the asteroids, angles of attack, warship positions, and, most critical, Tatia’s strategy against the fleet, combined and flowed in a continuous stream as Portland’s fleet closed on the station.

There were no wild shouts urging troops into action or even commands sent to the carrier captains. Exacting precision required direct control. On the required tick of time, Julien sent the
Last Stand
surging forward, and soon after, Z did the same for the
No Retreat
.

The engines of each carrier were pushed to their limits to accelerate the ships and the massive rocks tethered outside their bays. At the instant required by each SADE, the ship’s controller slewed its carrier and cut the beams holding the asteroids along one side of the ship. Like a child’s ancient sling, the metal-rich rocks were whipped forward, sailing past derelict ships to race through the dark of space toward the enemy fleet.

The carriers were returned to the staging point to start a second run, shooting forward to sling the asteroids tethered on the other side. Once having loosed both sides, the carriers reset at the starting point, and myriad vessels jumped into action, offering their rocky cargo up to flight chiefs, who activated the beams when the asteroids were in position.

Once loaded, the SADEs signaled the carriers forward twice again to let loose each side of their loads. The
Last Stand
sent four staggered barrages of sixteen dense, rocky asteroids each, and the
No Retreat
threw twice that number in four of its own barrages.

“Admiral, the guide identifies an asteroid shower coming our way,” the battleship’s navigator announced.

“Origin?” Portland asked.

“Directly ahead, Admiral. The shower just passed the station.”

“Now, isn’t that a coincidence?” said Portland, his mind racing.

“A second wave of asteroids incoming, Admiral.”

“Show me where both waves are headed.” Portland demanded.

On the admiral’s central monitor, the ships of the fleet were laid out in textbook wedge formation, which gave Portland a surge of pride before he examined the incoming waves of asteroids headed at the flanks of his fleet. “How big are these?” he asked.

“Huge,” the navigator replied. “The guide estimates them at around 8 to 10 meters across.”

“What? Are you telling me these asteroids are the same size? That’s statistically impossible,” Portland yelled. He knew it was the Harakens again, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how they could be sending asteroid showers his way.
What is your game this time?
Portland asked himself.

“Commander, have the lead destroyer in each of our flanking squadrons target an asteroid with missiles. I want four strikes against each asteroid. Let’s see what these accursed Harakens are hiding,” Portland ordered.

Moments after the commander relayed the order, he reported, “Missiles away.” Time ticked by until he added, “Direct hits,” and finally, “The asteroids broke into large chunks, Admiral. They seem to be nothing but heavies … metal-rich ore formations.”

“This makes no sense,” Portland mused out loud.

“Admiral, the flanking squadrons are asking permission to spread out,” the commander said.

“Yes, yes, permission granted,” Portland said absent-mindedly, waving a hand at the commander in dismissal. He was desperately trying to understand the purpose of the asteroids. “Commander, I want eyes on those asteroids as they pass by our ships.”

“Yes, Sir,” the commander affirmed, and later reported, “Nothing behind the rocks, Sir,”

“Incoming, Admiral. Two more waves. Identical in makeup, count, and direction,” navigation stated.

“That tears it. It’s the Harakens doing this!” Portland shouted angrily.

“To what purpose, Admiral?” the commander asked.

“That’s the right question, Commander. I think it’s some trick of the Harakens to make us unsure of our actions, but it won’t do them any good. The squadrons have permission to move out of formation to evade the swarms, but check those rocks as they pass.”