Stark's Crusade (22 page)

Campbell spoke quickly, without his usual greetings. "Sergeant, are you aware there's a group of shuttles trying to land here?"

"Yeah. We're watching 'em now." Symbology crawled slowly against the vast backdrop of the main display, the barest slice of the Moon's huge arc now glowing down and to one side as the display angle shifted to maintain a picture of the entire situation. "I wouldn't put any bets on their chances of getting down here, though. There's some heavy Navy units moving to intercept, and our gear says they'll close on the shuttles before our defenses can cover 'em."

"That's what our orbital systems are saying, too, but that's wrong! Those Navy ships should be letting those shuttles through."

Stark fought down an immediate blistering response, instead just staring back at Campbell. "Why? Are you saying these shuttles are officially scheduled?"

"Of course. You know we've been negotiating with the government. This group of shuttles was cleared, but the Navy warships are reacting like they're blockade runners. I'm very worried,"

"Me, too. If these shuttles were cleared and scheduled, how come my people didn't know they were coming?"

"You didn't? I. . . don't know. The government negotiating effort was reorganized not long ago, but they should have—"

"Mr. Campbell, my people haven't heard about these shuttles. If the military here didn't get the word, it's pretty safe to assume the military up there didn't get told either. That'd be why the Navy's assuming those shuttles are blockade runners and reacting accordingly. Tell the shuttles to explain to those warships what's happened. They might get held up for a few orbits, but—"

"They've been trying to tell the Navy they're an approved mission! But the warships just keep coming. You know they're authorized to destroy any shuttle trying to run the blockade!"

"They wouldn't ice somebody trying to surrender."
Would they? What kind of orders have they got?

"The shuttle pilots think they might. They're scared. Too scared to stop, I think."

Stark looked to Vic for advice, but she just spread her hands in exasperation. "Sir, I don't know what I can—"

"Sergeant." Campbell slowed his speech with an obvious effort, speaking with care. "The 'cargo' on those shuttles are humans. Relatives of people in this Colony, trying to rejoin their husbands, wives, fathers, and mothers. Do you understand?"

"Ah, hell. There's civ passengers on those shuttles? Kids and everything?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"And you knew they were comin' in now?"

Campbell closed his eyes before he spoke. "Everyone was supposed to have been informed."

"Well, that is one helluva nice surprise, sir. Just for the record, somebody forgot to inform the people with weapons, and that's causing some real problems. Okay, I'm getting my own shuttles up." He gestured again, highlighting the four symbols that represented his own little fleet then swung his thumb up. Reynolds nodded and began calling commands into another circuit. "But, the odds are real bad. Those warships are closing for intercepts outside our defenses. My shuttles won't be able to prevent that. The best I can do is try to divert the warships' attention while your shuttles try to get the Navy brass to call off their sharks."

"I understand. Please, Sergeant, protect them."

Stark stared momentarily, caught between anger at the lack of warning and surprise at the naked plea, then nodded. "That's our job, sir. We'll do our best. But we'd have had a lot better chance if we'd known in advance that this was going down."

"I understand."

Vic looked as if she'd just bitten into something sour. "I guess I was wrong. Some cargo can't be replaced. I wonder which idiots failed to get the word out that kids were coming in through the blockade?"

"Beats the hell out of me. I'm gonna get me a piece of those idiots' hides when this is all over. Right now, we've got another job."

"Hey," Chief Wiseman called in. "What's up? We gonna bail out those smugglers?"

"They ain't smugglers, Chief," Stark advised. "It's a pre-approved run, but nobody got the word, so the Navy's going after them. We might have to save their butts. Can do?"

"Can't do. My shuttles can't hold off cruisers."

"Chief, there's civs on those shuttles. Family types. Kids."

"Aw, for. . . then they oughta surrender now. If there was a good chance, I'd say different, but. . ."

"Roger. The civs are trying to call off those warships, but they're worried about the Navy's orders."

"I would be, too. We know standing orders are that any blockade runners are toast."

"Right. So get up there. Just in case. Maybe you can run interference if worse comes to worst and help those shuttles get inside our defenses."

"I sure hope it doesn't come to that. We're on our way. Man, I'm getting too old for this much acceleration."

Stark grinned, then lost his humor as he studied the display. Acceleration vectors had suddenly jerked on the civilian shuttles, angling longer as they boosted their main drives. "What the hell? Somebody up there's panicking. Those fools are trying to outrun the Navy ships. Tran, ask Campbell if he's gotten through to the government side, yet. If those warships don't get called off soon, we're going to have a really ugly problem."

"Something's happening," Vic noted, peering at the display. "Are the warships firing weapons?" A half-dozen smaller objects had detached themselves from each Navy cruiser and begun accelerating toward the shuttles at even higher rates than the warships had been maintaining. The combat identification system quickly slapped symbology over each object, with an "unknown" tag prominent.

"Negative," the orbital systems watchstander replied. "I'm trying to ID the objects now, but those are way too big to be torpedoes."

"Maybe the cruisers are launching their own armed shuttles," Vic suggested.

"Those are too small for shuttles," the orbital systems watchstander objected. "And there's too many of them. Cruisers can't carry that number of shuttles."

"Then what are they?" Stark demanded. "Chief Wiseman?"

"Yup." Over the comm circuit she sounded close, so that Stark had trouble remembering her shuttle was actually approaching orbit even as they spoke. "What's coming off those cruisers?"

"I was hoping you'd know."

"Not me. I've never seen anything like those, and my onboard combat systems can't provide an ID, either."

Stark glowered at the symbology that represented the new spacecraft, watching them slide into rigid formations as they boosted away from their cruiser mother ships.
I've seen something like that before. What? Something about how they're moving . . .
damn.
"Vic. Were you in Operation Ice Storm?"

"No. Fortunately. I heard it was pure hell. Why?"

"The way those new ships are moving reminds of something." Stark swung his arm across the symbology as the small craft homed in on the blockade runners. "The Air Force tried some new uncrewed aircraft in that op. Latest and greatest thing. Robotic with a special tight, scrambled link. Some of 'em crashed, some got suicided when they started shooting at friendly forces, and the rest were nailed by enemy defenses. But they moved like that."

Vic stared at the display. "Like that. You're sure?"

"Yeah. Real precise. No hesitation or bobbles when they moved in formation. Just like that."

"Navy metal-heads. Autonomous robotic combatants designed for space combat. I guess your friend didn't hear about them."

"Can't fault him or her for that." Stark keyed Wiseman's circuit again. "Wiseman. Those new shuttles or whatever that the cruisers launched. They're metal-heads."!

"What? You sure?"

"Sure as I can be without cracking one open."

"Oh, man. Things just got bad, mud crawler. Things just got real bad." Stark frowned as he watched the course/speed vectors for Wiseman's shuttles on the main display suddenly lengthen and shift. "Heading for intercept," she reported.

"Intercept? Negative, Chief. Pull back. You can't engage all those things with four shuttles."

"Yeah. I know. But those things are headin' for the shuttles full of kids, ain't they? I gotta stop 'em."

"We're trying to straighten this mess out, Chief. The Navy's not gonna push an attack once it realizes those shuttles have kids on board. There's no reason—"

"Wrong," Wiseman interrupted. "With all due respect. Sir. I'm guessing these Navy metal-heads are like the ground ones we got word on. No control link. So we got metal-heads on the loose and ordered to attack those shuttles. You sure they're gonna understand surrender? Sir?"

"Oh, God."

Stark looked over at Reynolds, who shook her head in anger. "She's right, Ethan. Those civs are being targeted by things smart enough to kill them, but possibly too stupid not to kill them if they don't have to. Maybe that's why the shuttles are running, now. Maybe they've heard rumors about those things. Maybe more than rumors."

"Campbell said the pilots were scared. Now we know why. Tran!" Stark spun and shouted in one motion. "We can't wait any longer for word to get to those warships through official channels. Get on a direct circuit to those cruisers. Tell 'em the shuttles are full of civs. Including kids. Tell 'em the shuttles were officially scheduled but we're ordering 'em to surrender anyway. They gotta call off those metal-heads."

"Yessir. Immediately. We'll use the universal distress frequency." That frequency was reserved for life-threatening emergencies, but this case arguably fell into that category.

Stark took a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly adrenaline-charged system.
Nothing I can do from here. Just try to get the word to the right people and hope they do the right things.
"Vic, call Campbell and tell him what's going down. If he's got anyone who can make sure those shuttles stop running, he better get them talking fast." Intercept vectors were shifting only subtly, now, the Navy metal-heads arcing in on intercepts guaranteed to nail the fleeing shuttles outside the range of the Colony's defenses.

"Is that the best advice?" Vic wondered. "Given what they're up against, how do we know that wouldn't just make those shuttles sitting ducks?"

"I don't know! But at least if they surrender those cruisers should help protect them from the metal-heads."

"Commander," Sergeant Tran reported, "the civilian spaceport reports the shuttles have acknowledged orders to stop fleeing from the Navy, but refuse to alter their courses. The Navy ships have definitely received our messages, but have not responded to them."

"This could be incredibly ugly," Vic murmured. "Are the shuttle pilots being stupid or scared, now?"

"Maybe all of the above. Hell, if I had those things coming after me . . . Tran, what'd Campbell say?"

"He's threatening the shuttle pilots that he'll arrest them and confiscate their ships if they don't surrender to the Navy. But Campbell thinks they're going to try to outrun the metal-heads. He says the pilots sound scared to death and are screaming for us to protect them from the metal-heads."

"So why'd they run in the first place with cargoes of kids? If they hadn't, maybe the Navy wouldn't have launched the things. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. If I get my hands on those guys . . . and on those sorry bastards who were supposed to notify everyone about those shuttles coming in . . ."

"For what it's worth, Campbell looks like he feels personally responsible."

"A fat lot of good that'll do anybody."

"The cruisers are transmitting something," Tran reported. "Can't pick it up. The beam's too tight. Looks like they're trying to call off their metal-heads."

Stark exhaled in relief, then waited with growing anxiety as the robotic combatants continued on course. "So why ain't the metal-heads breaking off?"

"Autonomous means autonomous," Vic noted. "Like we feared. Somebody did a story about this a long time ago.
Fail-Safe
I think it was called. Some weapons got launched by accident and no one could figure out how to recall them."

"What happened?" Stark wondered, his eyes fixed on the display.

"Some cities got blown away."

New symbology blossomed to life, radiating out from one of the Navy cruisers. "Now what's happening?"

"One of the cruisers is firing," the orbital systems watch-stander reported.

"Those bastards are shooting at the shuttles?"

"No, sir. She's firing on her own metal-heads. See the weapon trajectories? They're trying to stop those things the hard way."

"Good for them." It couldn't have been an easy decision for whoever was in charge of that big ship to make. A commander interested primarily in protecting him or herself would have waited until the metal-heads actually committed an atrocity before firing, thereby ensuring any board of enquiry would exonerate them. But that wouldn't do the civ kids any good. "They getting any hits?"

"Uh, no sir. Odds are very low. Their weapons are in a tail chase. Low relative velocity so the metal-head point defenses are taking them out." On the display, weapons symbology blinked out time and again as it neared the metal-heads.

The civilian shuttles accelerated once more, pushing their lunar approaches into danger readings. If they didn't slack off their speed soon, they'd be unable to brake in time for a safe landing.

"Going in," Chief Wiseman announced, startling Stark.

"What the hell do you mean?" He searched for the four symbols representing her armed shuttles, catching them with vectors arcing up from the Moon to a point somewhere between the fleeing civilians and the metal-heads. "Those metal-heads have got to be too heavily armed for you to slug it out with. There's too many of them. Break off. Get back here."

"Sorry. Didn't copy your last."

"I said get back here!"

"Say again?"

"Wiseman—!"

"Engaging enemy." Weapon symbology separated from the armed shuttles, shooting past the fleeing civilian shuttles and adding to the confusing mass of vectors filling the display. As Stark watched, all the weapons converged on the two nearest metal-heads, overwhelming their defenses. The two metal-heads were momentarily blocked from view by the detonation detections, then blossomed into expanding spheres of metal fragments and gas.