Action at Omega Beacon

"I'm not ruling anything out, sir." She said.

"Smart girl. What about Five Kreigsmarine?" Ellison said and crossed his arms over his chest. Sweat was beginning to soak his uniform and hers.

"The bulk of Five Kreigsmarine is still in orbit around New Haven. They send out patrols once a month but they never go far, one or two light years out at most," She said and scrolled through lines of data. “The high command is probably keeping them pretty close to home after the uprising there."

"That’s what intelligence thinks,” Ellison said and slid his boot into a foot-strap secured to the deck. “So where do you think those renegades went? It's been twenty years."

“I doubt that they left on a vector for Avalon and just disappeared, they had to go someplace and I'm still working on that one, sir. Maybe they shot the Big Deep.”

“The what?” Ellison said, sounding very surprised that she could imagine such a thing, a common reaction.

“The Crucible Rift, sir. If they didn't change course and didn't hit Fifty-five Cancri, the only thing past that is the Crucible Rift," Jena said. It was the simplest answer in her mind, though Ellison chuckled at her revelation. “The Big Deep. If that’s where they went they might still be in it.”

“Perhaps you think too much, Mitchell.” Ellison said.

“It keeps me sane, sir.” Jena said and smiled convincingly to hide her own doubts. The truth was that it just kept her mind occupied.

“Then carry on, lieutenant,” Ellison said as he resumed his slow rounds. “By all means carry on.”

“Conn, sensor control. New contact.”

Jena sprang at the mimic board and jabbed at the icon to route the data from the sensors through.

“Sensor, tactical. What have you got?” She said with not as much indifferent professionalism as she would have liked.

“Tactical, sensor. We have a single contact at eight hundred TK. The signal analysis gives it a mass of about five hundred tons. We could find out more, but we’d have to go active.”

“Sensor, tactical. Wait one, I’ll inform the deck officer.” Jena said and turned to call for Ellison but found him standing below her station.

“Well, Mitchell?” He said.

“A contact, sit, at maximum passive range," Jena said. "We could find out more, but we’d have to go active.”

“Don’t do that. We don’t know if they’ve detected us. If they haven’t, we don’t want to let them know that we’re here.”

"Right, sir." She said, then her monitors flickered once, twice, three times before the feeds from the passive sensors spiked, tripped into “safe” mode, and went blank. She had enough simulator training to recognize an active sweep when it hit the ship. When the sensors came back online, data about the event began scrolling across her situation display.

“We’ve just been painted by several microwave pulses, sir, a Type four-twenty-seven array. That's a Eurocon, one-hundred percent."

"Did they get us?"

Designed for low-detectability, the cost multipliers of every Intrepid-class cruiser were mostly in the advanced sensors and the pre-fabricated blocks of RAM armor. The Type-427 LONG SHOT radar might have gotten a return, but the logic core crunched the probabilities and figured most likely it had not.

"It's hard to say, sir. If they did, they only got a trace. My guess is that they detected Hoel and went active to see if anyone else was around." Jena said and dragged a hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat beading on her hairline. The air scrubbers removed all the noxious gases and the smell of four hundred sweating bodies from the circulating atmosphere, but nothing could be done about the temperature. During combat, 86% of the output from Constellation’s eight reactors was devoted to the engines, weapons systems, and powered shields; sensors and life-support got most of what was left. Climate control got 0.75 percent of system power when 4.0 was needed for it to function at optimum level.

“Why was there only one series then?” Ellison said. “If they found Hoel then they’d check again to confirm the contact.”

“Tactical, sensor. Pulse! Contact- seven-seven-zero thousand kilometers,” Timmons called in. “Same signal characteristics as before.”

"Sensor, tactical. Get a log running."

"Mitchell, status report, please." Ellison called from his position below her, steps away from his assigned acceleration couch.

“Sir, they got us," She said as the new detection probability came back from the logic core. "We’re being swept by three active arrays every eight seconds. Hotel Lima is moving into range and requests permission to engage.”

“Tell them to initiate their maneuvering burn on my authority.” Ellison said as he stopped his pacing and peered out of one of the thick plexsteel viewports around the bridge at something just out of her view. She shifted for a better vantage and beheld the Independence. Somewhere behind that ship was an enemy. Ellison stepped to the nearest intercom and brought his thumb down on the activation switch.

“Captain to the bridge, please.”

“Tactical, sensor. I think we've got something here. They shut down active ranging after the last sweep and now we’re picking up some kind of phantom echoes. Contacts have topped out at three hundred. They're jamming us.”

Jena stiffened as hydraulics began to lift the door behind her.

"Mister Ellison, what the hell is going on here?" Crites said as he climbed into the bridge. His gaunt face was creased with the lines that years of cold sleep should’ve prevented but did not.

“Sir, we detected an E-con intelligence ship at eight hundred thousand kilometers. It painted us for twenty-four seconds before shutting down and activating countermeasures. Hotel Kilo is on the way to the last known position.”

Crites leaned against the island instead of climbing to his chair. He used a bony finger to activate the ship's paging system.

“Commo, this is the Captain. Dial in Hotel Lima and get them back in line. That trawler is already gone. Send a message to headquarters, they’ll need to know what we’ve found. Has there been anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then put the sensor record from detect to termination through to my quarters." Crites said and stepped away from his perch.

"Aye-aye, Cap'n."

Ellison turned to her.

“Keep the sensor teams hopping, Mitchell. I’m going to see how the pump replacement is going while we have time."

"But," Jena said, starting with surprise, soon relaxed by the 1st Officer’s smile. “Are you sure about this?”

"Relax, Mitchell. If you detect anything, inform the Captain. Tactical has the conn.” Ellison said and pointed at her as he flashed a look at Dreedle that implied extra vigilance. Dreedle climbed up out of the sensor pit and took Ellison’s place on the deck.

“Aye, sir." Jena said and felt her heart race as he smiled and went out the hatch. She was in charge.

“Just try and relax, ma’am. Sure, we displace almost fifty thousand tons, but the ship pretty much runs itself. Just let it fly until you need to tell it what to do.”

“Thanks, chief.” Jena said. As the senior command branch officer on the bridge, until someone more senior relieved her, the USS Constellation was hers, but only temporarily. In ten years, maybe, she would have a command of her own.

“Conn, sensor. We’re starting to get intermittent sensor echos again. Two separate returns at five hundred thousand K and closing. They started popping up in a direct line between us and Omega beacon.”

“Sensor, conn. Nice job on the detection,” Jena said and scrutinized the return signatures. “Continue to monitor. Is there anything yet on mass detectors?”

“Conn, sensor. Negative, I’m picking up the nav beacons from Indy and Audacity but their masking systems have been engaged. Mass detectors aren’t much good past fifty thousand kilometers, anyway. Hold on, I’ve got blue-shifted contacts on the pulse Doppler. They just came out of nowhere.”

“Fire control, conn. Dial up the warheads on the torpedoes to maximum yield. Set them for auto-seek and bring all of your systems to active,” She said and sipped at her water ration. “Damage control, conn. Get all repair teams to their stations.”

"Fire control, aye." Florez called back.

"Damage control, aye." The DCO reported.

“Commo, conn. Make sure the rest of the group knows about the contact,” Jena said as her mind went down a checklist that seemed hundreds of items long. “Retract the high-gain array. Fire control, conn. Bring all turrets to bear along last contact vector.”

"Commo, aye."

"Fire control, aye."

Jena saw an attack plan forming in her mind’s eye, only to be overridden by the orders Ellison had given her before he went out the hatch. She activated the PA system and said, “Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge.”

“Conn, sensor. New contact, designate group Delta, two intermittent signals at three hundred TK and closing. Sweet lock! Designate group Beta on a converging course with Omega beacon. They’re not trying to hide.”

“Weapons, conn. Be prepared to discharge full salvos on detect of any E-Con asset. Helm, conn. Stand by for maneuvering.”

“What’s going on here, Mitchell? Where’s Commander Ellison?” The Captain-1st said. He had lost no time in responding.

“He’s in engineering, sir, gone ten minutes.”

"Conn, tactical. We have two contact groups, Beta and Delta. They're EuroCons, sir. Group Beta has just unmasked and is approaching Omega beacon.”

She stopped when Crites interrupted her.

"Helm, conn. Set intercept course for group Beta and close to weapons range. Fire control, conn. I want full salvoes from all turrets and full torpedo spreads on the lead ship as soon as possible.”

“Conn, sensor! Solid lock on EuroCon cruisers at two hundred thousand K! Targets designated as Delta one and two!” Timmons said, startling her. His voice was loud enough to be heard without her headset. “It's Five Kreigsmarine! I’m getting an energy spike on their forward weapons!”

“Conn, sensor. We are tracking seven, no, eight inbounds.”

“Sound alert!”

"Conn, tactical, confirm eight torpedoes." Jena said as she brought her finger down on the alert button. As automated systems cleared for action, armored doors slid down in front of the viewports ringing the bridge, blocking her view of the stars. Heavy pressure doors dropped throughout the ship to compartmentalizing any damage that penetrated the hull. Her instruments would have to be her eyes now.

She tightened the straps holding her in place and found a firm grip. The Hoel, out of position behind the three heavy cruisers, was vulnerable.

"Conn, sensor. The inbounds just went terminal," Timmons called from below her. The SGM-112 torpedoes began jinking when they got within kill range, making them more difficult for targeting computers to predict. “They’re tracking in on the Hoel.”

"Conn, sensor!” Dreedle reported from a station on the backstretch of the sensor pit. “Power spike! They're firing!"

“At us?” Jena said as she felt her stomach flip.

“Negative, they’re picking on the little guy. Hoel is getting borked.”

EuroCon lasers arrived nearly instantly, powering through a cloud of scatter-glass thrown out by exploding decoy-canisters, burning holes into the engineering compartment of their escorting destroyer. As the power went off, so did the hull screens, leaving only thin armor plating for protection.

The icon indicating the track of the Hoel disappeared as the torpedoes hit. Her display fuzzed with static. When the effects of the 440 kiloton bursts cleared, the sensors showed her that a ninety-meter hole had been blasted out of the destroyer's belly.

“They’re not supposed to have weapons with that kind of range,” Ellison said from the base of the command-island. “Maybe the torpedoes, but not the lasers. Reset the tactical node with new variables.”

“Fire control, conn! Target Delta One. Fire torpedoes and charge the spinal mount! Helm, stand by RCS control!"

The Barracuda torpedoes loaded into Constellation’s torpedo tubes were self-guiding. The AI nodes controlling each weapon were smarter than their namesakes, almost brilliant, and attacked targets by threat potential rather than proximity.

"Conn, fire control. Torpedoes away." Florez reported with more composure. Between the three heavy cruisers, twelve torpedoes were magnetically slung downrange by accelerators in the launch tubes. Once they were well clear of the formation, the rocket motors in the torpedoes fired. Seeker heads scanning for targets split CNA Grendel and CNH Meteor between them. The larger threat, the armored strike cruiser Grendel, drew the heaviest attack.

"Conn, ECM. Their jamming systems just went active. We’ll burn-through in ten seconds. The ‘cudas saw right through it. No change in speed or bearing."

"Helm, conn. New heading, zero-one-zero-zero-one-three," Crites ordered. Bradley nearly jumped out of his seat as the captain snapped at him. “Quickly now!”

"Conn, helm. Zero-one-zero-zero-one-three, aye." Bradley called and swiftly keyed in course corrections. Constellation turned as Jena watched the target aspect change on the feed from the lateral sensor array. The boosters vibrated the ship when locked into full power. At lower levels, the voice of the drive-cores was subtle, an omnipresent but distant rumbling. When away from the ship, everyone over-talked until they adjusted to the absence of constant sound.

The destroyer Hoel continued to take a pounding. Another laser cut into the engine compartment, destroying the fusion drive and reducing her crew to zero-g. A beam from Meteor hit moments later, causing damage too great for the destroyer to absorb. When the reactor core went, so did USS Hoel, flaring like a mini-sun, but the backlash from the three cruisers was already on the way.

After a four-minute burn, the torpedoes from Connie went terminal. Despite corkscrew evasive maneuvers, two were destroyed by Grendel defensive systems, but three detonated. Each Barracuda mounted a 550 Kt warhead. They blossomed in stark fury against the armored hulls of the E-Con cruisers, mostly Grendel, though Meteor took an oblique hit that left a large charred spot but did not penetrate. Jena’s display, and every other one linked to the Constellation’s exposed sensor arrays, filled with harsh static as the radiation released by the blasts sizzled past at 300,000 kilometers per second.

“Conn, commo,” Came through her headset. “Omega beacon reports that they are under attack by E-Con destroyer groups. They request immediate assistance.”

“Nav, conn. Get me the most direct line to Omega beacon. Helm, stand-by to maneuver," Crites said. All Jena could do was watch and analyze as the battle unfolded, despising her inaction. “What about that spinal mount, fire control?”

“Accelerator standing by.”

Once the sensors cleared, she could see that four torpedoes seriously hurt the Grendel, but not enough. The spinal mount weapon, an acceleration tunnel that ran the length of the keel and propelled a marble-sized ball of ultra-dense composites to .56 c, could inflict catastrophic damage.

The enemy had spinal mounts too. Unlike torpedoes and HEPAC rounds, Jena would not see a shot coming until it punched through armor, pressure hull and anyone unlucky enough to be in its path. The bridge deck mounted more armor than place else in the ship.

“We’re out of their firing arc. They’re lining up on the Indy.” Jena called as she watched the Grendel maneuver.

The wounded HSOL broke out of formation as the three NorCom cruisers came into line, allowing all of their batteries to bear on the targets.

"Fire control, conn. Target Grendel and commence main battery fire." Crites said and wiped his forehead with a cloth thrust under the VR helmet.

"All turrets are over the rail,” Florez said. The HEPACs had turned to bear on the targets. He manually switched weapons toggles from standby to active. “Switching to auto-fire."

Turret-mounted 820 Gigawatt weapons loosed multiple salvoes before needing recharge. A rain of ionized plasma streaked out into the paths of the EuroCon ships. Grendel ran into four shots, Meteor met eight. From what the sensors sweeping over the E-Con cruisers were telling her, the precise fire had knocked out the Grendel’s forward torpedo launchers and a beam turret.

“Conn, fire control. Spinal mount charged! Main batteries are empty! Forty seconds to recycle!”

As Jena tracked the battle, she noticed an aspect change as the Grendel fired its maneuvering thrusters, bringing its remaining weaponry to bear and shielding the damaged side from further punishment.

“Helm, conn. Get us aligned with Meteor and stand-by spinal mount.” Crites said. Jena could hear his fingers drumming on the arm of his command chair.

“Conn, helm. RCS primed. Firing in three, two, one.”

As she listened to the maneuvering thrusters roar, a small tone from her console alerted her that there were other things out there besides the two E-Con cruisers.

“Conn, sensor. Contact! I have new contacts! Seven fighters, closing fast!”

“Where did they come from?” Crites demanded and switched one of his screens to the feed from her tactical display. Behind the fighters were eight tracks that she recognized immediately: inbound torpedoes, already in a hunting pattern.

“Conn, tactical. New contact is designated delta-three,” Jena said when the launch platform was identified. “It’s the Seydlitz coming in from one-four-five degrees. Those fighters are too fast to be Dassaults. The node doesn’t have a classification for them.”

"Fire control, conn. Divert partial power to the forty and seventy-five gig batteries,” Crites said. The smaller weapons would recycle in half the time. “Damn, where are our little friends when we need them?” USS Ranger carried the group’s fighter wing and had been detached for action elsewhere. “Configure ship to repel fighter attack.”

“We’ll lose the charge on the spinal mount if we divert power.” Florez called up from the fire-control pit and Crites got quiet. He always did when subordinates questioned his orders.

“Fire control, conn. Divert power to the secondary batteries and configure the ship to repel fighter attack.” Crites said. If he had to repeat himself a second time it meant trouble.

“Conn, fire control. Aye.” Florez said as he shook his head. Jena checked her displays once more. The EuroCon cruisers had not been taken out of the fight.

“Sir, Grendel and Meteor are still active." She said, unsure that Crites heard her, silence was his answer. His mouth opened as if to speak, but his orders were interrupted by a salvo from the Grendel.

“Conn, sensor. Power spike from Delta-one! They’re firing!”

The lasers hit and burned through the forward anti-missile system and then into the hull, but the layer of crystalline matrix under the surface of Constellation’s RAM armor diffused the beams.

“Damage report now.” Crites demanded.

“Screens one and two are down to forty percent capacity. We have a hull breach on deck five,” Jena said and read down the list the computer provided her. “We’re venting atmosphere at forty cubic feet per second. Auxiliary steering is out. Forward anti missile system is out. Damage control teams are responding.”

“Conn, commo. Message from the Audacity, sir. They’ve taken several torpedo hits and report severe damage.”

“Fire control, conn,” Crites said, sounding dazed, white-knuckle gripping the edges of his command chair. “Continue to charge main guns.”

“Conn, fire control. Turret C is not responding. We have twenty-three seconds until turrets A and B reach full charge. Torpedoes are armed and ready to fire.”

In front of the ship, the entire length of Meteor was presented for punishment as it sluggishly turned to bring its weapons onto Indy.

“Torpedoes away!”

With the press of a button, Florez sent a full spread of AI’s gliding away from Constellation’s tubes. Jena followed the torpedoes all the way in to impact. All eight found Meteor, vaporizing chunks of armor and hull plating and taking some heat off Independence, but ECC Seydlitz and her fighter group had dropped on Audacity like a hawk.