The Universe — or Nothing, Meyer Moldeven [best color ebook reader txt] 📗

"Brad," Myra's voice, fast. "Can we detonate it with our guns from here? At this extremely close range the concentrations of laser-quads and explosive decompress energy by both of us at a single point might disable some part of the warhead or set it off."

"It would take too much time to cut through. I've got another idea. If it doesn't work, we won't have enough time to try anything else. Hodak, take the controls and get the ship as close to the bomb as you can, go for less than a meter from the warhead's surface. Hold and orbit slowly, nose close to the warhead so that I can scope the surface. I'll tell you when to stop. Myra, keep close above in my line-of-sight. Hodak, strap on your tool kit."

Hodak maneuvered the ship close and set a pattern that covered the sphere methodically. Brad opened the canopy, and directed the ship's beacon at the bland, gray surface. Seconds passed; the bomb's gray coating was unbroken. Or was it?

"Stop," Brad ordered.

He pointed to a barely visible circular crack half a meter across.

"Myra. Get closer. Use your attractors to stabilize and hold position. Give me a hand, Hodak."

Brad climbed over the side. The light gravity-enhancer soles of his space boots provided barely enough adherence to the warhead's surface. Sliding, he made his way to the finely marked circle, Hodak close behind.

"Access to the calibration cavity," Brad said as he stooped, shed his outer glove, and felt around the mating edge. "The bomb has to have a place to insert fuse and trajectory data and fine tune the initial settings. The well is closed with a plug as thick as the armor, and it's rotated into place. The plug's outer coating is the same composition as on the rest of the casing. Cut a radial slot along the edge of the cover. We'll push to rotate the cover counter-clockwise; it'll take both of us to work it loose."

"Why not cut out the entire plug?"

"Too much time. The shell is too thick."

Hodak grunted, withdrew a cutting tool from his kit and after much effort formed a shallow, slanted groove in the well cover. A heavy metal pry bar came next. Squatting, he forced the flat end into the notch and pushed. The energy to push forced his body in the opposite direction.

"Closer, Myra."

At arm's length, and the ship immobilized by its mags, Hodak braced his back against the fuselage and tried again. He felt the bar bottom in the notch.

Brad squatted beside Hodak and, using the fighter's mass to steady themselves, they pushed. The pressure scraped the plug's surface, but remain fast. They made a fresh cut, braced themselves, and pushed, sweat pouring from their faces. Very slowly, the plug gave way, eventually the surface rose slightly above the warhead's surface. More cuts, and a finger hold. The plug rose a bit more. It seemed minutes before their hands could grasp it firmly.

They unscrewed the plug. It drifted away.

"When Ram had our skulls crammed with all that raw data I thought this was garbage we'd never have to use," Brad said. "I think a lot differently now. Myra, hold the mags tight and be ready to break away as soon as I give you the word."

Lying on his side directly above the opening he inserted his arm and shoulder into the well as far as he could. Inside the cavity he located knobs and keypads by touch. At random, Brad twirled the knobs, pressed the keys, and opened and closed switches. After a brief wait, he tore several wire connections loose.

"Working in the dark like this has disadvantages," he grunted.

Withdrawing his arm he slipped his outer glove back on. Hastily they climbed back aboard their fighter.

"Go! Myra. Go!"

Both craft whirled away.

"The warhead's computer assessed and integrated my random inputs," Brad said. "The solution should change its flight path or, for all we know, reset the switches for the proximity fuses so that our ships' mass and proximity sets the bomb off. Let's get as far away as we can before it all comes together and whatever's going to happen happens."

The two fighters headed toward the UIPS fleet. Barely beyond the fatal radiation zone the now distant warhead detonated. The fireball looked as huge as the Sun from Venus.

Brad opened the communications channel.

"Sentinel One to UIPS Fleet Comm Center. We're approaching in two Plutonian fighters from the direction of the blast. Be ready to receive; we're coming in. Acknowledge."

The opposing fleets maneuvered warily. It was too late for either side to safely fire long-range thermonuclear warheads. The battlefield would be a tight arena.

Brad and Hodak matched up to Admiral Selvin's flagship Ruthless. Without altering formation the Ruthless extended a mag-beam and drew the fighters quickly to the flight deck one following the other.

Wasting no time on boarding formalities, Brad motioned his colleagues to follow as an escort led them at a run to the command deck. Selvin was waiting impatiently. A debriefing officer took Hodak in tow, and an another escorted Drummer to the VIP lounge.

At a sign from Brad, Myra trailed after him.

The fleet command center was fifteen meters across and ten deep. View tanks, consoles and displays along the bulkheads glowed and portrayed the multidimensional battle zone, updates on readiness of the fleet and whatever had been considered relevant in defeating the enemy. Specialists and back-up technicians studied displays, recapped real time data, checked results and sent them on in an ongoing process. The place hummed with muted voices and the almost silent clicks of an organized combat ops center.

Selvin waved Brad to join him at a plotting table. A globe-shaped view tank, suspended close overhead displayed the three-dimensional battle zone. The command center's communicator hovered close to Selvin, his head encased in a helmet linked to all ships in the UIPS fleet, fleet headquarters on Earth, and the conference site. A hard-copy dispatch remote on a shoulder harness extended forward waist-high.

Selvin hastily exchanged handshakes with Brad and Myra. Brad talked fast pointing to the capsule Myra held in her hand. Listening, Selvin's Executive signaled the communicator to open the secure link to Commanders on all ships in the fleet. A nod from the grizzled Fleet Commander and Myra inserted the capsule into a slot on the view tank's base. The Exec motioned the battle staff to observe and listen. Taking turns, Brad and Myra reeled off details on the enemy fleet's new Order of Battle.

Brad pointed to locations in the view tank, suggesting potential UIPS tactical options to exploit the enemy's vulnerabilities. He added how Captain Yargoul might respond, and how the UIPS fleet might use them to advantage.

As Brad spoke, a microphone picked up his words and fed them into the computer to bring current the fleet's, now by-passed database. Selvin and his staff, even as they listened to Brad, observed the effects on the plotting screen. A superseding fleet tactical formation spread before them.

There was no time for discussion; the opposing fleets were too close. Selvin, eyes on the tank and plot, took over and spun out orders to his ships' Commanders.

"Your view tank has a copy of what I have here," he said. "The enemy fleet is down to four battle cruisers, sixteen destroyers, three fighter-bombers, seventeen fighters, four gunboats, and three attack transports with troops aboard, plus a tagalong pack of armed support ships.

"Consider the destroyers are in their best screening positions. We are totally committed. Launch fighters as soon as the INOR fleet is in optimum range. Target priorities are cruisers, destroyers and gunships. Take the offense immediately against all enemy ships that penetrate our outer defenses.

"Avoid contact with transports or support ships. If an enemy vessel is disabled, engage in rescue if your situation permits; especially should they retire from the arena and present no hazard to the Slingshot construction site. In such circumstances, do not pursue. If they do begin to approach the Terminals, pursue at max and take them out. Keep the construction site command center informed so that they can take defensive actions.

"Engage the enemy. Attack. Attack. Attack."

##

The INOR Commanders facing Captain Yargoul on his view screen appeared apprehensive. They had not closed with the enemy fleet yet lost two cruisers, three destroyers and a dozen fighters. The thermonuclear warhead launched at the enemy fleet had been faulty or sabotaged into premature detonation. They had taken savage blows.

Captain Yargoul rallied his forces.

"The battle has just begun," he exhorted his listeners. "Our surveillance of the enemy fleet shows we are in a strong position. Form up for penetrating the enemy fleet. Destroyers tighten screens. As soon as the enemy gets within range launch fighter-bombers and fighters. Gunships and attack patrollers take the point. Attack. Now."

Optimum range was closing for particle beamers. Fighter-bombers, gunships and patroller-fighters from each side sped and dodged toward firing points.

A Jovian fighter-bomber plunged through a gap in the UIPS shield and came at the bridge of the UIPS cruiser Implacable. Arrayed to fire for effect the Implacable cut loose with successive volleys of its forward laser-quads. From a turret above the cruiser's upper structures a molecular disrupter flashed a cascade of energy that coalesced into twisting, jagged bolts. The fighter-bomber dissolved as its guns fired a short burst. Fragments caroomed off its target's hull.

Two thousands kilometers distant, a Titanian gunboat evaded the UIPS defensive screen and slashed in at Selvin's Ruthless. The flagship's guns set up a withering fire, but couldn't match the lightning speed of the closing gunboat. A raking laser-doubles knifed through the Ruthless amidships, opening ten meters of hull. The vacuum of space sucked at storage bays, shops and wardrooms; dozens of bodies floated through the rupture. The gunboat, caught in a crossfire of laser-quads, exploded silently.

The Ruthless' internal safety doors had slammed shut immediately, isolating the damaged bays and compartments.

Suddenly, the main bodies of the two fleets were within range of each other's heavy weapons. A tangled circus of cruisers, destroyers, gunships and fighters careened through space, sweeping the battle arena with their guns. Battle craft, from both sides, blossomed into clouds of wreckage, shards and debris in the first minutes of combat.

More heavily armed, the INOR forces were nevertheless at a disadvantage. The fleet had not completely recovered from the disruptive effects of the haphazard redeployment that Adari had contrived. Drummer and Brad had deserted them; Hyk and the Dragon were gone. The INOR forces lacked cohesion. Captain Yargoul had barely assumed command of the combined fleet and needed to assess the situation. There was no time for that. They were face to face with a powerful adversary who had appeared without warning. An easy victory had become a struggle for survival.

Two UIPS destroyers made a run at the Jovian cruiser Boulder. Four explosive-decompressors cut loose simultaneously at the cruiser, striking her amidships. A succession of explosions wracked the ship, hurling debris and bodies in all directions. The ship rolled and yawed wildly out of control. The UIPS destroyers cut away.

The Ruthless' damage assessments flashed to the bridge and the ship's Commander informed the fleet command deck.

"We've still got full power and most of our guns are operative," Selvin announced to his staff after a brief study of the report. "With another of their cruisers gone the big ships have evened out, but they've still got the edge in destroyers. We've…"

"Fighter-bomber locked on to enemy cruiser Encounter." The communicator's voice cut in over the loudspeaker.

"Put him on," Selvin ordered.

The pilot's voice filled the room, low and tense.

"…3000 kay starboard. Destroyer screen at 2000, kinda loose. Going in. Have incoming, lots of it. In evasive. I'm hit, but I'm through. 700. More incoming. Bridge in sights. Three seconds burst — a hit. I'm out of control. Encounter dead ahead… gonna…"

Silence.

Selvin turned away to hide the pain in his eyes at still another death.

"Cruisers three to two, in our favor." An officer called out from his position at the battle monitor. "New ball game."

Brad pointed, drawing Selvin's eyes to the constantly changing plotting table and view tank.

The displays showed the struggle had become a series of separate skirmishes spread across a million kay in all directions. Fighter-bombers and fighters without a mother ship, and destroyers that had lost their cruisers ranged the battlefield singly and in pairs, searching out and attacking the enemy.

Not visible to the naked eye through the swarm of space debris around them, the view tank's sensors discriminated against displaying the lacework of crossing beams from laser-quads, explosive decompressors, molecular disrupters, and here and there, a cruiser's particle beamer.

Admiral Selvin stared at the tank.

"Does he realize what he's doing?" He whispered.

The Jovian heavy cruiser Windstorm and its screen of destroyers had changed direction about twenty-five thousand kay distant and headed straight at the UIPS fleet; the Jovian light cruiser Assault and its escorts lined up behind. The UIPS cruisers Ruthless, Avenger and Implacable were broadside to the oncoming enemy line. Most of the gun ports for the Windstorm's and the Assault's most powerful long