Harlock
I should have expected that really
11
Between the Jupiter Line and the Belt.
“It’s definitely hotter in here.” Able Spaceman Bill Carver rotated his spoon in the tasteless soup positioned in front of him. “You’ve noticed?”
“I’ve noticed.” His fellow crew member Simon Price agreed. “It’s supposed to be twenty degrees, twenty two some days. For the last week it’s been twenty seven and rising.”
“Like a summer day.” Carver grumbled. “Except with stale air.”
“Purifiers are running at forty percent to preserve the filters.” Price recalled. “The Chief is trying to make them last so we don’t all suffocate before getting home.”
“Asphyxiate.”
“Whatever.”
“Point is Simon, things have been getting worse. You know why the temperature is going up?”
“Something to do with the holes shot in us?”
“In part.” Carver accepted. “But we’ve also got too many people on board.”
“Oh, this again.”
“We shouldn’t have stopped to pick up those Yanks. They’re going to break the life support system.”
“Come on Bill…”
“No, I’m right on this.” Carver raised his voice. “It was a dumb thing to do!”
The two men were alone in the Galley, the rows of tables deserted as most of the off duty crew caught some sleep. Keeping the Amethyst running ad become a rather intensive job thanks to the damage she had taken in her brief but painful duel with the Chinese Navy. With several automated systems off line her crew had to perform a number of tasks manually, from wiring checks to turbine purges. It took a great deal of work to keep such high performance machinery working, and if nothing else it had given the crew a greater appreciation for the designers who build in so many labour saving devices.
“If we’d have turned away they’d be dead.” Simon exhaled.
“So what?”
“So that’s a bad thing Bill.”
“Come on, not like they’re not bringing it on themselves.”
“Who brings getting murdered while they drift in a space suit down on themselves Bill? How did you work that one out?”
“The Yanks and the Reds have been building up to each other forever, at least the last twenty years, hell more like the last hundred and twenty. They won’t be happy until they fight, everyone knows it.”
“There are rules.”
“Like anybody except us cares!” Carver spat. “Maybe the Oceanics, but do you think the Yanks or Reds are going to be waving white flags if it gets too much? Did the Russkies play fair in the Central war? Or the Indians when they went for Pakistan? Or the African Rebirth? No, they went in there and fucked everyone over.”
“Most of those wars were a long time ago.” Simon pointed out.
“Yeah, but the guys who fought them are now running half the world.” Bill countered. “Half the US cabinet fought in Mexico and I bet they’re still pissed they lost.”
“More of a draw.”
Bill snorted. “How is failing miserably a draw? They backed one side in the Mexican civil war, the Latin powers backed the other side, and it was their side that won.”
“Mexico joined the Latin League instead of the United States.” Simon recalled. “Which everyone predicted anyway, even with all that US influence they’re still a Latin country. It was obvious where the people wanted to go.”
“Didn’t stop them trying to bomb them into changing their minds.” Bill growled.
“That was then.”
“Yeah, things are far worse now.” The other sailor huffed. “At least in Mexico the Government didn’t pull that last trigger. Sure they bombed cities and blockaded ports, they even sent a few divisions over the border, but the President withdrew them when it looked like it would lead to all out war with the entire continent of South America.”
Simon nodded, the story was a familiar one and considered one of the crucial moments of the last century. It had only happened thirty years earlier, the closest humanity had come to a full scale war since the mid twentieth century.
“Most people think the US would have won, even with the huge growth of the South.”
“I couldn’t care less, Brazil and Chile would have nuked the US, and the US would have nuked the whole of Latin America.” Carver shook his head. “You know why?”
“I can guess I’m about to find out.” Simon offered reluctantly.
“Greed.” Bill jabbed a finger accusingly. “Pure greed, they wanted Mexico and managed to kill thirty thousand people for it!”
“I don’t believe those figures for a second.”
“Believe what you want, but Americans have great lives, all sorts of luxury and gizmos. What the hell is capturing Mexico going to do to make that better? How do you make a perfect easy life more perfect or easier?”
“Maybe they wanted to give Mexico the same standard of living?”
Bill blinked. “I refuse to believe you are that naive. You’re what, eighteen?”
“Yeah.”
“You should still know better.” Bill scoffed. “No one goes to war to make people happy. Greed mate, just greed.”
He sipped the soup with a hint of distaste. “And our food is starting to go off, this heat again.”
“So they didn’t take Mexico.” Simon steered the topic back.
“Right, and that pissed off a whole generation, because they guessed that if their President had more balls they could have just stomped their enemies flat. They had those M2 battle tanks that were immune to everything back then, they had first generation power armour, Air Drones, space gunships, they had everything. If they had committed to a full invasion they’d have won.”
“And when the Latin armies get squashed their leaders start throwing nukes.”
“Probably, but people never get that far, they just get to the part where they stomp the enemy flat.” Bill related. “But the President stood down, he called the army back hours before it would have mounted a real invasion, not some glorified peacekeeping.”
“So I guess it’s a ‘What if’ question?”
“More than that, it was an embarrassment.” Bill continued. “It was a slap in the face, someone took a boot to American pride, the Latinos made them look foolish across the globe. After Mexico nobody respected the US anymore, until five or six years ago everyone thought the US was a wuss, that they didn’t have the stones anymore, that their wealth had made them soft.”
“But not today.” Simon realised.
“The war that never happened still had its casualties, the President didn’t last long and there hasn’t been a Republican in anything near power since. The Democrats ran things for a while but people got tired of them too, the whole country was a laughing stock and nobody was trying to stop it. That’s where the Freedom Party came from, people were sick of the old parties and created this new one. Took them a while, but they’re in charge now, with good old John Brook fanning the fire.”
“He made a big deal about putting America back together didn’t he?”
“Yeah, that was his thing.” Bill forced down more soup. “To make people stop laughing at America, and he did this by building a fucking giant military.”
“Looks like it worked.”
“In a way, people are too busy hiding under their beds to laugh.” Bill shrugged. “He promised a return to the good old days when America was top dog, before Mexico when the States did pretty much whatever they wanted. Nice idea, but never going to happen.”
“The world got smaller.”
“The US isn’t the one big power anymore, now there are six global powers, and they’re not about to get pushed around. Most of us just get on with life, but the Chinese, well they’ve got something to prove too.”
“They’re both pushing at each other.”
“Right, and it all comes back to greed.”
Simon paused. “I thought you said it was because they had something to prove?”
“That’s why the average guy on the street is for it.” Bill said. “No American wants to back down twice in one life time, and no Chinese guy is going to let some imperialist nut in a White House tell them how far their own country can expand. But that isn’t why they’ll fight. You heard of Cyrus Errol right?”
“Oh. Him.”
“You probably heard all about his competition with the Chinese so I won’t repeat it. Point is their greed will trigger a war, and there are three billion Reds and six hundred million Yanks ready to roll up their sleeves and start chopping.”
“These countries have changed a lot.”
“They’ve been pushed into hate, into believing everyone is against them, mocking them.” Bill spoke darkly. “Everyday they get told they are being pushed around by outsiders, that now is the time to stand up, that they have the tools to fight back and restore their national pride that weakness threw away in the past. A dangerous dose of nationalism mixed with a generation long inferiority complex. The Americans are dangerous, don’t let the fact we share a similar culture fool you, they are dangerous and if there is a war with China it’s their own fault.”
“Where did you get all this?” Simon asked. “Last I checked you spliced wires for the Navy, not studied political sciences at Oxford.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to read out here, history and stuff.”
“Did you read two or three books to get a balance of ideas, or just the one?”
Bill frowned. “Shut up, I’m right.”
“I’d just prefer to get a few opinions and make up my own mind, that’s all.”
“You go ahead, everyone back home knows what I know, that’s why we’re staying the hell out of this pissing match.”
“We ain’t done a good job staying out of it so far.”
“See, that is exactly my point!” Bill slammed his hand on the table. “Our mission was Neptune! If we’d have avoided Saturn, kept away from where we knew there was an American base and just carried on, we wouldn’t be up shit creek!”
“How could we know…”
“We should have played it safe!” Bill snapped, his bottled frustration boiling into anger. “We should have left those bastards to kill each other and not us! We should have stayed away and Mike would still be alive! And Angus, and Georgy, and Raj, and I can’t even remember all their names!”
Simon tried to keep very calm and cool, hoping his example would bring his older friend back down, not in the least sure how he could deal with this.
“Come on Bill, finish that soup.”
With a swing of his arm he knocked the half full bowl to the floor.
“Fuck soup! Fuck everything! We are dead, and it’s all thanks to those fucking Yanks!”
A man cleared his throat, his arrival unnoticed amid the outburst. He waited until both sailors to turn and acknowledge him.
“Okay, I think I missed most of that.” Pete bobbed his head from left to right. “But if you think April and I are going to get you killed…”
“What? No.” Bill dismissed irritably. “This is nothing to do with you two.”
“Just when you said ‘Fucking Yanks’ I thought you meant us two, because, well, you know…”
“I don’t care what you two do, you’re alright.” Bill accepted. “You’re more like us.”
“More like you? More like you than what?”
“More like Europeans than Yanks.”
Pete blinked, his face hardening. “Excuse me?”
“Right then!” Simon clapped his hands and stood up. “Time we were going.”
“You said it yourself.” Bill continued regardless. “You want to bring down that dick in charge, you think he’s a war crazy idiot.”
“And you think I’m the only American who wants that?” Pete reacted angrily. “Ask any of the Nashville crew, they’ll say the same thing!”
“Nah, I’ve had enough of them whining about how they don’t have a ship.” Bill sneered. “They’re lucky to be alive, especially as we fucked ourselves saving them.”
“You haven’t been paying attention have you?” Pete grimaced harshly. “The Chinese are nowhere near us, they’re half way to Mars!”
“So you’re a psychic now then?” Bill accused. “How about you tell me the lottery numbers then?”
“We’re not dead are we?”
“Party isn’t over yet.” Bill retaliated. “Hot in here isn’t it?”
“Hot?”
“Isn’t it?” Bill pressed.
“Yeah, guess it is.”
“That’s because we took on the American crew, with our damage we can’t support them, so the ship is getting hotter.”
Pete suddenly broke into a laugh. “You’re pissed at America because we made it uncomfortably warm in here? Shit man, I thought you had a point!”
“I’m pissed at America because we’re stuck in the middle of a war you started!” Bill yelled back. “I’m pissed at America because it got my friends killed for nothing! But mostly I’m pissed at America because out here those extra degrees of heat in the hull will radiate outwards. Know what that means Pete?”
“Yeah.” Pete’s face sank.
“Good, you’ve been here long enough to know the score. It means we’re going to light up every thermal scanner that can see us, it means we can’t play hide and seek, and it means that if there is a Chinese Destroyer out there we’re dead. Thanks to your buddies from back home.”
Bill stood, glaring at Pete.
“For a while I forgot where you were from, we were almost mates. Almost.”
The two sailors walked away, Bill with his shoulders squared while Simon followed, shrugging apologetically. It wasn’t the first time Pete had over heard negative comments from the crew, especially Chief Engineer Kendle who was famous for speaking his mind, but this incident had carried more venom than usually. It was also the truth.
The cooling sleeve around the ship had been shot to pieces and working at a much reduced level, and with their sensor damage it was not impossible that a Chinese ship could be stalking them and they would never know until it revealed itself. They’d gone through a lot, but right now as they moved towards the belt was probably the most dangerous time.
“Who was shouting.” April wandered into the mess room, looking left and right to see only Pete and some spilt soup beside the usual tables and chairs.
“Just Bill Carver.”
“Oh, Mr Conspiracy Theory?”
“Yeah.” Pete nodded. “Doesn’t mean he’s wrong though.”
“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s too obvious to be a hidden plot. Errol and Brook, beginning and end of story.”
He nodded in agreement with his colleague and lover. “But they wouldn’t have gotten this far without the public backing their policies.”
“See how far they get when we reveal the truth.”
Pete shook his head, releasing a long exhalation that spoke of his troubles.
“I don’t think they like us anymore.”
“Bill?”
“Everyone.” Pete returned. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the tension onboard, you could cut it with a knife.”
“It hasn’t escaped my attention.” She nodded. “But what do you expect? This ship is like family, very close knit, it took us a while to fit in.”
“Yeah, but…”
“And now they’ve had thirty complete strangers dropped on them.” April pushed on. “It’s going to take time, the Nashville folks just have to earn their place like we did.”
“I dunno, remember we were just along for a ride, these guys are taking the place of men and women who have died. They’re helping maintain the ship, run damage control, they’re even more integrated then us but there’s still tension.”
April arched an eyebrow. “I know you’ve got a theory and you’re waiting to tell me.”
“Like I said this ship was a family, and they’ve lost twenty dead on this mission, a quarter of the crew. I think they blame us.”
“When you say us…”
“I mean Americans.”
“Well too bad, we didn’t pull the trigger.” April shrugged. “Besides, almost a third of the crew s American now, they need to get on with it.”
“But can they? I mean…”
“Enough Pete, the worst that could happen is we get keel hauled. Accept that and move on.”
For a moment Pete was speechless.
“When did you become the rational one? I’m the one who always says ‘get over it’ in this partnership.”
“Someone has to wear the pants, and right now it ain’t you.” She giggled.
“It’s a perfectly rational concern!”
“Mallory and Lantree are best buddies, if there was a problem they’d sort it out.”
“Well maybe no one’s told them.”
“Well maybe you should?” April suggested. “Come on, stop worrying, Diego isn’t worried.”
“Oh how is he?” Pete asked weakly. “Just pretend I actually care.”
She smiled widely. “Jealous?”
“Does it show?” Pete admitted with some bashfulness. “He spends a lot of time with you, I think he likes you.”
“Course he does, but your position is safe.” She assured. “Stop worrying, it’ll give you wrinkles.”
“There’s a lot to worry about!” He defended.
“But not here, and not right now.” She soothed. “Worrying makes no difference, just relax and let me take care of you.”
“Again, that’s supposed to be my job.”
She smiled. “Shut up and find a quiet corner.”
Commander Mallory was fixated, stood in the gloom stiffly with his arms folded over the front of his pressure suit, a stance he had maintained for longer than most people had noticed. He remained poised like a frowning statue, glaring at the large holographic display that buzzed and sometimes flickered as it hovered in thin air over the plotting table, the instability a result of the pounding the ship had taken.
“How long now?”
“Almost six hours.” Lieutenant Cheyo responded to his question.
“It looks like it’s growing more intense, the range must by within twenty or thirty thousand klicks by now.”
“A good guess sir, it’s hard to tell but the computer predicts twenty thousand kilometres between the core of both clusters.”
The Amethyst was having a difficult time searching the path before it, her sensor arrays had been heavily damaged in battle greatly reducing the power and sensitivity of her systems, blurring her electronic eyes. The problem was compounded by the excessive jamming that only grew more and more impenetrable as she approached the core of the Solar System, the interference resting over the Belt like a fuzzy blanket impeding her senses.
Fortunately the Amethyst still had one reliable method of viewing the universe, her optical sensors which ranged from precision telescopes to wide angle holographic cameras to open doors with heads peering out. It was very hard to block visual detection gear, the normal method being a spot light shone towards the offending vessel. Happily for the Amethyst nobody seemed to know where she was, and as such her observations went unmarked.
Right now as her cameras viewed space around her the several telescopes that had survived this far were focused inwards, looking with computer assisted precision deep into space seeking even the barest hint that there could be danger ahead. They had already spotted an uncharted asteroid cluster directly in their path that would need to be threaded, but worse had then unfolded.
In the far distance the telescopes had picked up movement, a formation of warships accelerating from over six AU’s away, their ion trails the only indication they existed. From so far away it was impossible to see the ships themselves unless they were caught in direct sunlight, even mile long super carriers and dreadnoughts simply faded into the background.
The ion trails they could see were like tiny wisps of blue and white light, like scratches on the lens, yet in reality they were jets of energy hundreds, even thousands of metres long propelling immense vessels at ever increasing speed. The computer had calculated at least four hundred tracks moving from the approximate direction of Mars, the spectral analysis of the ion trails suggesting they were American built engines. It was a very sizeable fleet, built around about a hundred and twenty capital ships ranging from heavy cruisers right up to a handful of supercarriers, at least that was what the ion trail analysis concluded.
They had watched the fleet move for over four days, their acceleration sometimes varying but usually averaging three G’s which was unusual for such big ships. The reason eventually revealed itself, on the fifth day of observation they spotted a second cluster of ion trails moving in from a separate vector. The American ships were accelerating vigourously to match relative speeds with this new fleet, reducing the speed difference between target and attacker to give the guns a better chance of actually hitting something.
Inevitably the sensors predicted the opposing fleet was Chinese, and were more than happy to allow the Americans to catch up and initiate combat.
The initial salvoes had been fired from extreme long range, over eight light seconds distance offering very little probability of a hit. It wasn’t until the two forces closed to within two light seconds that things began to heat up, with American and Chinese forces engaging each other with massive salvoes of rail gun fire and missile barrages. The battle had lasted six hours so far, the two sides largely keeping their distance and trying to score hits from range with very little success. Eventually the Chinese force had broken position first and moved to close the range, the closer they came the more accurate their fire becoming. Of course it tended to work both ways, and the fleets on either side of the battle began to take hits.
It had been difficult to work out how the battle was going at first, only the odd gunflash indicating that the two sides were even engaging, the fleets lined up on the same course a light second apart exchanging broadsides like ancient ships of the line. It was a tactic most naval theorists believed would work well in large scale combat, imagining their line of ships could effortlessly demolish the enemy with accurate concentrated fire before the same happened to them.
The reality had ultimately turned out to be different, and as no one had actually fought a full scale fleet battle in space before it appeared the opposing Admirals were inventing new tactics and strategy on the spur of the moment. It was fascinating to observe from a distance, watching the ion trails re arrange from two opposing walls of ships into a myriad of different formations as the battle dragged on and commanders experimented, but on board those duelling leviathans the experience was unlikely to be anything over then desperation and nerve shredding fear.
The two sides were clearly very well trained and drilled, the speed and precision with which they altered formation was commendable, all the time maintaining a steady rate of fire, correcting for drift and movement, and attempting to put themselves into a superior gunnery position. None of it had worked, the impressive levels of ECM making accurate gunfire at range a matter of insane luck while missile swarms met their end at the hands of massed point defence weapons long before they became a threat. It was stalemate.
The Chinese fleet had two main advantages over the US fleet, advantages the Chinese Admiral was wise enough to try and exploit. First he had six hundred ships as opposed to the four hundred of his adversary, and while these numbers hadn’t helped the long ranged gunnery duel they would help him maintain a potent striking force even if he lost units while closing in on his enemy. The other advantage was that virtually all the Chinese ships were built as ship killers, armed to the teeth with guns and missiles, while a decent portion of the US fleet were Carriers with only limit direct combat potential.
On balance the Chinese fleet should do better in a close range fight, something their commander was eager to explore. He formed his ships into a three dimensional wedge, placed his heaviest ships at the front, and charged.
In response the US fleet had broken up, dissolving its wall of capital ships and assembling into battlegroups and task forces, small knots of firepower that angled themselves to surround the incoming Chinese force and catch them in a cross fire.
It had been an intricate ballet to watch, a game of move and counter move, both Admirals playing their cards exceptionally well hiding weaknesses and exploiting strengths. That had now come to an end, and the grace of deployment had been superseded by the brutal reality of killing as many people as possible before they killed you.
The battle, the first true battle fought between space going warships, had now descended into a brutal hammering match, a contest of strength and stamina fought with thousand ton rail gun shells and super dense hull armour. Finally the world could see what happened when immovable objects met unstoppable forces, when battleships slammed multi thousand ton darts into each other at a few thousand kilometres, when ships massing tens of millions of tons were torn and sheared like plywood, when proud capital ships were forced to limp away from the front line gutted and burning, trickles of blood leaking from their hulls and freezing in the harsh environment beyond.
Beside the guns were the missiles, now finally able to be used effectively, leaping the distance in mere seconds. The Chinese unloaded their magazines, the silver spikes battering the American ships while in turn tens of thousands of Attack Drones burst forth from the hanger decks of the Carrier groups, dodging and weaving with impossible agility as they made their bombing runs.
The violence was unbelievable, over half a million souls trapped in steel cans trying to puncture or vaporise each other. The armour on their vessels was immense, strong enough to resist megaton level impacts in the case of the larger battleships, but even they would be defenceless against a five thousand ton round striking them at high speed. There was nowhere to hide in space, no way to accelerate fast enough to outrun pursuit, no guaranteed way of surviving a direct hit from a cannon or a neutron warhead. The only option was to defeat the enemy or surrender, a narrowness of choice which motivated crews to fight even harder. A few ships seemed likely to escape, too smashed up to justify wasting fuel or ammunition chasing, but at least one crippled battleship that tried to withdraw was swarmed by destroyers and nuked into oblivion.
It was man’s greatest scientific achievements applied to the task of killing, the science of slaughter, death by numbers.
“Hard to see which side is winning.” Jane watched the same display with avid interest, trying to follow the lines of engine trails and flashes of fire. “The amount of firepower in there is astonishing.”
“Like a cauldron.” Mallory remarked grimly. “Any one of those capital ships could wipe out a country, some of them could do a damn good job depopulating the whole of the Earth, and here we have hundreds of them letting loose with all they have. I never thought I’d see it.”
The entire display was sparkling, tiny sprinkles of light that lived for a brief instant before vanishing, like moonlight glittering on waves rolling up a beach. Each white or blue spark was a nuclear explosion, the result of the missile or shell casing vaporising during detonation. Dozens, sometimes hundreds detonated every second, the intense burst of radiation visible to the Amethyst scanners despite the distance, the jamming and the battle damage.
“This battle has unleashed more destruction in the last half hour then has ever been released in the long sad history of mankind.” He continued. “Every war, every accident, every test, every act of violence and provocation. Add it all up and it is still less then what we have seen today, far less.”
“Their guns are firing on semi automatic.” Jane considered. “They’re lobbing nukes like confetti. I didn’t think there were so many warheads in the world.”
“Chinese ships are packed with missiles, and those American Attack Drones pack six nukes as standard armament.” Mallory maintained his gaze, his arms still crossed. “Lot of firepower.”
“And these are just portions of the main forces, there are at least five thousand ships out here between the US and Chinese commands.” Jane spoke with a hint of apprehension. “Even more around the Earth and Venus lines.”
“Thank Heaven they’re fighting well away from any stations or planets.” The Commander mentioned with relief. “You could lose civilisation itself in the crossfire here, accidental Armageddon.”
They watched the battle continuing to unfold, nothing but coloured specks of light dozens of light minutes away, real ships with real people on board often meeting a violent and swift end. Now and again the blue lights were joined by red ones, tiny specks representing mile wide balls of fire erupting from catastrophic direct hits. Each blink marked the ends of hundreds if not thousands of lives. There one moment, then gone back to darkness the next.
“That was a big one.” Jane noted, a glimmer of red lasting for several seconds on the display, a hint of the titanic fireball burning through oxygen and combustibles on an enormous scale. “Dreadnought or Supercarrier.”
It seemed absurdly morbid to speculate like this, trying to guess who or what had just gone up in flames, yet with the detachment of distance and anonymity it appeared almost normal and acceptable. Perhaps they had become jaded by the deaths of friends on board, Mallory considered quietly, or maybe it was just always the way in war.
“They’re still fighting.” He observed with a nod of grudging respect. “They haven’t tried to surrender yet, and there aren’t many left.”
“I wonder if they know what happened out here, with the Nashville?” His First Officer wondered. “If they knew about the execution of survivors I doubt either side would surrender willingly.”
“Maybe.” Mallory agreed. “Though I think if they’d seen it they would have spotted us, and we should have been intercepted by now, preferably by our own side.”
“There should be a cruiser patrol near this sector, out beyond the belt in unclaimed space.” Jane remembered. “One of ours.”
“Captain Rossellini of the Semovente.” Mallory smiled. “Good man, and a good ship, he usually has a heavy escort. We could use him right about now.”
“Could have used him two months ago.”
The distant battle drew even more intense, a great concentration of lights in its centre while individual trails still fell away like sparks from a welding force, damaged and lame ships trying to get some distance before somebody tried to pursue them. The escorting destroyers and frigates of both sides were eager to pounce on the wounded, circling in like wolves stalking a bloodied tiger. Often friendly destroyer groups moved to help their limping comrades, sparking a much smaller but no less violent confrontation at the periphery of the main battle, drawing a few showers of nukes and gunfire before the smaller ships either broke off or quickly annihilated one side or the other.
“It’s still going on.”
Steve Lantree walked steadily up to the plotting table, arriving between the two Royal navy Officers and sharing their concerned expressions. While the Amethyst staff could sympathise with the horror unfolding for their fellow sailors all that distance away, for Lantree half of those people were his countrymen, his brothers and sisters of the flag, quite possibly his friends. They all knew full well there was nothing they could do, no influence they could exert. Even if they had been among the combatants they would merely have been stepped on without achieving anything. It was a battle beyond their capacity to fight.
“Six hours now.” Mallory informed the American. “You should be getting some rest Captain, you’re off duty.”
“Couldn’t sleep, not with this happening.” Lantree responded honestly. “Any new forces?”
“Nothing.” Jane returned. “Hard to see how it’s going.”
“But it doesn’t take a genius to work out the odds.” Lantree allowed. “The Chinese are going to win this one, whoever was running the US fleet should have turned and broken off the fight when he saw them forming to close up.”
“Wouldn’t be easy to outrun them.” Mallory commented.
“No, probably not, but our ships have better acceleration than Chinese ones, and better a long range stern chase for a few hours than this sort of close in gunnery duel. We just don’t have the numbers.”
He shook his head in exasperation, the flickering battle gradually drawing to a close, the lights concentrating into ever smaller groups.
“Good ships and good people, but our fleet isn’t built for wall to wall gunnery like the Chinese, or hell, like almost everyone else. We’re supposed to stand off and let the drones do the work from long range.”
“Perhaps whoever was in charge got carried away, thought his battleships could handle it.” Jane presumed.
“Maybe he did.” Lantree nodded. “Then he better hope the Chinese kill him here and now, because he’s gonna get lynched by his own men if he makes it back to Reagan or Ike.”
There was a final flurry of red flashes before it ended, the sudden emptiness looking surprising despite it being the backdrop for the entire mission, as if the blackness of space was the change and the glittering battle the norm.
“I can still see some ion trails that match American parameters.” Cheyo reported. “It looks like they’ve surrendered.”
“And the Chinese have allowed it?” Lantree checked. “No shooting the ships after they stand down?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“That’s a mercy.” The American officer exhaled.
“They’ll probably rescue survivors too.” Mallory theorised. “I’m afraid the Nashville was unlucky in its enemies Captain, closer to civilisation things might have been different.”
“I’ve met Chinese Admirals in the past, in better days.” Lantree recalled. “Some were assholes, but there were enough who seemed like decent people, honourable. Guess this fleet was commanded by one of them.”
“As you say Captain, a mercy.”
“What about survivors?” Jane asked. “How many ships broke away?”
“Looking at the tracks quite a few destroyer sized ships have made it, they’re burning for home hard, I doubt the Chinese will catch them.” Cheyo flicked through a series of computer images, stills from the battle. “Maybe a few cruisers too, the ones that broke off early, they’ve probably got enough of a head start to evade any pursuit.”
She grimaced, looking toward Lantree apologetically.
“Most of the capital ships aren’t going to make it, Chinese heavy destroyers and light cruisers I’d guess are being sent to round up stragglers.”
“They’ll demand a surrender.” Mallory said. “And if they are refused they’ll either nuke the ship then and there, or disable engines and weapons before boarding.”
“Boarding a battleship?” Jane hissed through her teeth. “That’s going to get really nasty.”
“No offence Captain.” Mallory nodded to Lantree. “But if they’re smart they’ll surrender. I can understand taking on tall odds for a reason, to buy time or inflict disproportionate losses on an enemy, but resisting in these circumstances would be foolish. Let them take the ship.”
“On that I’d disagree Commander.” Lantree replied. “There’s a lot of pride tied up in a ship. It’s one of the earliest battle cries of the US Navy, Don’t give up the ship.”
“And look how that ended.” Mallory pushed carefully. “The Chinese aren’t monsters. Usually.”
“Let me ask you Captain, would you give up this ship?”
Mallory had to pause for a moment before answering. “I would surrender, yes, I would get my crew off and ensure they were safe.”
Lantree raised an eyebrow. “And…?”
Mallory chuckled. “Then I’d blow her to pieces before I let someone take her. Point made Captain, but there’s a difference between losing a ship and losing a crew. I’d surrender for the sake of the lives onboard before anything else.”
Lantree nodded in acceptance of the answer. “If we run into a Chinese patrol before we cross the belt you might have to make that choice.”
“Well I know I’d prefer being given an option instead of just being shot at without any warning like last time.” He grunted back. “Last I heard there were rules in war.”
“Like in Cricket.” Jane agreed.
“And if you didn’t obey the rules you were tried by a tribunal of international judges and thrown in jail forever.”
“Like in Cricket.”
“And if you were lucky you were kept in isolation until you died, rather than having to deal with your fellow inmates who would happily bite your face off or shove sharpened fingernails in your eyes.”
“Like in Crick…”
“Has that ever actually happened in Cricket?” Mallory cut her off. “Or is this just one of those weekly themes you have?”
Jane raised an innocent eyebrow. “My Grandfather was an England international in the sixties, toured the world, played in countries where Cricket is like a religion. Some people take it really seriously. Really seriously.”
“There are some days when I honestly don’t know if you are making this stuff up on the spot or not.”
“Oh. Good.” Jane smiled. “Then I’m fulfilling my New Year resolution.”
“To annoy me?”
“That’s just a pleasant side effect.”
Between the Jupiter Line and the Belt.
“It’s definitely hotter in here.” Able Spaceman Bill Carver rotated his spoon in the tasteless soup positioned in front of him. “You’ve noticed?”
“I’ve noticed.” His fellow crew member Simon Price agreed. “It’s supposed to be twenty degrees, twenty two some days. For the last week it’s been twenty seven and rising.”
“Like a summer day.” Carver grumbled. “Except with stale air.”
“Purifiers are running at forty percent to preserve the filters.” Price recalled. “The Chief is trying to make them last so we don’t all suffocate before getting home.”
“Asphyxiate.”
“Whatever.”
“Point is Simon, things have been getting worse. You know why the temperature is going up?”
“Something to do with the holes shot in us?”
“In part.” Carver accepted. “But we’ve also got too many people on board.”
“Oh, this again.”
“We shouldn’t have stopped to pick up those Yanks. They’re going to break the life support system.”
“Come on Bill…”
“No, I’m right on this.” Carver raised his voice. “It was a dumb thing to do!”
The two men were alone in the Galley, the rows of tables deserted as most of the off duty crew caught some sleep. Keeping the Amethyst running ad become a rather intensive job thanks to the damage she had taken in her brief but painful duel with the Chinese Navy. With several automated systems off line her crew had to perform a number of tasks manually, from wiring checks to turbine purges. It took a great deal of work to keep such high performance machinery working, and if nothing else it had given the crew a greater appreciation for the designers who build in so many labour saving devices.
“If we’d have turned away they’d be dead.” Simon exhaled.
“So what?”
“So that’s a bad thing Bill.”
“Come on, not like they’re not bringing it on themselves.”
“Who brings getting murdered while they drift in a space suit down on themselves Bill? How did you work that one out?”
“The Yanks and the Reds have been building up to each other forever, at least the last twenty years, hell more like the last hundred and twenty. They won’t be happy until they fight, everyone knows it.”
“There are rules.”
“Like anybody except us cares!” Carver spat. “Maybe the Oceanics, but do you think the Yanks or Reds are going to be waving white flags if it gets too much? Did the Russkies play fair in the Central war? Or the Indians when they went for Pakistan? Or the African Rebirth? No, they went in there and fucked everyone over.”
“Most of those wars were a long time ago.” Simon pointed out.
“Yeah, but the guys who fought them are now running half the world.” Bill countered. “Half the US cabinet fought in Mexico and I bet they’re still pissed they lost.”
“More of a draw.”
Bill snorted. “How is failing miserably a draw? They backed one side in the Mexican civil war, the Latin powers backed the other side, and it was their side that won.”
“Mexico joined the Latin League instead of the United States.” Simon recalled. “Which everyone predicted anyway, even with all that US influence they’re still a Latin country. It was obvious where the people wanted to go.”
“Didn’t stop them trying to bomb them into changing their minds.” Bill growled.
“That was then.”
“Yeah, things are far worse now.” The other sailor huffed. “At least in Mexico the Government didn’t pull that last trigger. Sure they bombed cities and blockaded ports, they even sent a few divisions over the border, but the President withdrew them when it looked like it would lead to all out war with the entire continent of South America.”
Simon nodded, the story was a familiar one and considered one of the crucial moments of the last century. It had only happened thirty years earlier, the closest humanity had come to a full scale war since the mid twentieth century.
“Most people think the US would have won, even with the huge growth of the South.”
“I couldn’t care less, Brazil and Chile would have nuked the US, and the US would have nuked the whole of Latin America.” Carver shook his head. “You know why?”
“I can guess I’m about to find out.” Simon offered reluctantly.
“Greed.” Bill jabbed a finger accusingly. “Pure greed, they wanted Mexico and managed to kill thirty thousand people for it!”
“I don’t believe those figures for a second.”
“Believe what you want, but Americans have great lives, all sorts of luxury and gizmos. What the hell is capturing Mexico going to do to make that better? How do you make a perfect easy life more perfect or easier?”
“Maybe they wanted to give Mexico the same standard of living?”
Bill blinked. “I refuse to believe you are that naive. You’re what, eighteen?”
“Yeah.”
“You should still know better.” Bill scoffed. “No one goes to war to make people happy. Greed mate, just greed.”
He sipped the soup with a hint of distaste. “And our food is starting to go off, this heat again.”
“So they didn’t take Mexico.” Simon steered the topic back.
“Right, and that pissed off a whole generation, because they guessed that if their President had more balls they could have just stomped their enemies flat. They had those M2 battle tanks that were immune to everything back then, they had first generation power armour, Air Drones, space gunships, they had everything. If they had committed to a full invasion they’d have won.”
“And when the Latin armies get squashed their leaders start throwing nukes.”
“Probably, but people never get that far, they just get to the part where they stomp the enemy flat.” Bill related. “But the President stood down, he called the army back hours before it would have mounted a real invasion, not some glorified peacekeeping.”
“So I guess it’s a ‘What if’ question?”
“More than that, it was an embarrassment.” Bill continued. “It was a slap in the face, someone took a boot to American pride, the Latinos made them look foolish across the globe. After Mexico nobody respected the US anymore, until five or six years ago everyone thought the US was a wuss, that they didn’t have the stones anymore, that their wealth had made them soft.”
“But not today.” Simon realised.
“The war that never happened still had its casualties, the President didn’t last long and there hasn’t been a Republican in anything near power since. The Democrats ran things for a while but people got tired of them too, the whole country was a laughing stock and nobody was trying to stop it. That’s where the Freedom Party came from, people were sick of the old parties and created this new one. Took them a while, but they’re in charge now, with good old John Brook fanning the fire.”
“He made a big deal about putting America back together didn’t he?”
“Yeah, that was his thing.” Bill forced down more soup. “To make people stop laughing at America, and he did this by building a fucking giant military.”
“Looks like it worked.”
“In a way, people are too busy hiding under their beds to laugh.” Bill shrugged. “He promised a return to the good old days when America was top dog, before Mexico when the States did pretty much whatever they wanted. Nice idea, but never going to happen.”
“The world got smaller.”
“The US isn’t the one big power anymore, now there are six global powers, and they’re not about to get pushed around. Most of us just get on with life, but the Chinese, well they’ve got something to prove too.”
“They’re both pushing at each other.”
“Right, and it all comes back to greed.”
Simon paused. “I thought you said it was because they had something to prove?”
“That’s why the average guy on the street is for it.” Bill said. “No American wants to back down twice in one life time, and no Chinese guy is going to let some imperialist nut in a White House tell them how far their own country can expand. But that isn’t why they’ll fight. You heard of Cyrus Errol right?”
“Oh. Him.”
“You probably heard all about his competition with the Chinese so I won’t repeat it. Point is their greed will trigger a war, and there are three billion Reds and six hundred million Yanks ready to roll up their sleeves and start chopping.”
“These countries have changed a lot.”
“They’ve been pushed into hate, into believing everyone is against them, mocking them.” Bill spoke darkly. “Everyday they get told they are being pushed around by outsiders, that now is the time to stand up, that they have the tools to fight back and restore their national pride that weakness threw away in the past. A dangerous dose of nationalism mixed with a generation long inferiority complex. The Americans are dangerous, don’t let the fact we share a similar culture fool you, they are dangerous and if there is a war with China it’s their own fault.”
“Where did you get all this?” Simon asked. “Last I checked you spliced wires for the Navy, not studied political sciences at Oxford.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to read out here, history and stuff.”
“Did you read two or three books to get a balance of ideas, or just the one?”
Bill frowned. “Shut up, I’m right.”
“I’d just prefer to get a few opinions and make up my own mind, that’s all.”
“You go ahead, everyone back home knows what I know, that’s why we’re staying the hell out of this pissing match.”
“We ain’t done a good job staying out of it so far.”
“See, that is exactly my point!” Bill slammed his hand on the table. “Our mission was Neptune! If we’d have avoided Saturn, kept away from where we knew there was an American base and just carried on, we wouldn’t be up shit creek!”
“How could we know…”
“We should have played it safe!” Bill snapped, his bottled frustration boiling into anger. “We should have left those bastards to kill each other and not us! We should have stayed away and Mike would still be alive! And Angus, and Georgy, and Raj, and I can’t even remember all their names!”
Simon tried to keep very calm and cool, hoping his example would bring his older friend back down, not in the least sure how he could deal with this.
“Come on Bill, finish that soup.”
With a swing of his arm he knocked the half full bowl to the floor.
“Fuck soup! Fuck everything! We are dead, and it’s all thanks to those fucking Yanks!”
A man cleared his throat, his arrival unnoticed amid the outburst. He waited until both sailors to turn and acknowledge him.
“Okay, I think I missed most of that.” Pete bobbed his head from left to right. “But if you think April and I are going to get you killed…”
“What? No.” Bill dismissed irritably. “This is nothing to do with you two.”
“Just when you said ‘Fucking Yanks’ I thought you meant us two, because, well, you know…”
“I don’t care what you two do, you’re alright.” Bill accepted. “You’re more like us.”
“More like you? More like you than what?”
“More like Europeans than Yanks.”
Pete blinked, his face hardening. “Excuse me?”
“Right then!” Simon clapped his hands and stood up. “Time we were going.”
“You said it yourself.” Bill continued regardless. “You want to bring down that dick in charge, you think he’s a war crazy idiot.”
“And you think I’m the only American who wants that?” Pete reacted angrily. “Ask any of the Nashville crew, they’ll say the same thing!”
“Nah, I’ve had enough of them whining about how they don’t have a ship.” Bill sneered. “They’re lucky to be alive, especially as we fucked ourselves saving them.”
“You haven’t been paying attention have you?” Pete grimaced harshly. “The Chinese are nowhere near us, they’re half way to Mars!”
“So you’re a psychic now then?” Bill accused. “How about you tell me the lottery numbers then?”
“We’re not dead are we?”
“Party isn’t over yet.” Bill retaliated. “Hot in here isn’t it?”
“Hot?”
“Isn’t it?” Bill pressed.
“Yeah, guess it is.”
“That’s because we took on the American crew, with our damage we can’t support them, so the ship is getting hotter.”
Pete suddenly broke into a laugh. “You’re pissed at America because we made it uncomfortably warm in here? Shit man, I thought you had a point!”
“I’m pissed at America because we’re stuck in the middle of a war you started!” Bill yelled back. “I’m pissed at America because it got my friends killed for nothing! But mostly I’m pissed at America because out here those extra degrees of heat in the hull will radiate outwards. Know what that means Pete?”
“Yeah.” Pete’s face sank.
“Good, you’ve been here long enough to know the score. It means we’re going to light up every thermal scanner that can see us, it means we can’t play hide and seek, and it means that if there is a Chinese Destroyer out there we’re dead. Thanks to your buddies from back home.”
Bill stood, glaring at Pete.
“For a while I forgot where you were from, we were almost mates. Almost.”
The two sailors walked away, Bill with his shoulders squared while Simon followed, shrugging apologetically. It wasn’t the first time Pete had over heard negative comments from the crew, especially Chief Engineer Kendle who was famous for speaking his mind, but this incident had carried more venom than usually. It was also the truth.
The cooling sleeve around the ship had been shot to pieces and working at a much reduced level, and with their sensor damage it was not impossible that a Chinese ship could be stalking them and they would never know until it revealed itself. They’d gone through a lot, but right now as they moved towards the belt was probably the most dangerous time.
“Who was shouting.” April wandered into the mess room, looking left and right to see only Pete and some spilt soup beside the usual tables and chairs.
“Just Bill Carver.”
“Oh, Mr Conspiracy Theory?”
“Yeah.” Pete nodded. “Doesn’t mean he’s wrong though.”
“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s too obvious to be a hidden plot. Errol and Brook, beginning and end of story.”
He nodded in agreement with his colleague and lover. “But they wouldn’t have gotten this far without the public backing their policies.”
“See how far they get when we reveal the truth.”
Pete shook his head, releasing a long exhalation that spoke of his troubles.
“I don’t think they like us anymore.”
“Bill?”
“Everyone.” Pete returned. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the tension onboard, you could cut it with a knife.”
“It hasn’t escaped my attention.” She nodded. “But what do you expect? This ship is like family, very close knit, it took us a while to fit in.”
“Yeah, but…”
“And now they’ve had thirty complete strangers dropped on them.” April pushed on. “It’s going to take time, the Nashville folks just have to earn their place like we did.”
“I dunno, remember we were just along for a ride, these guys are taking the place of men and women who have died. They’re helping maintain the ship, run damage control, they’re even more integrated then us but there’s still tension.”
April arched an eyebrow. “I know you’ve got a theory and you’re waiting to tell me.”
“Like I said this ship was a family, and they’ve lost twenty dead on this mission, a quarter of the crew. I think they blame us.”
“When you say us…”
“I mean Americans.”
“Well too bad, we didn’t pull the trigger.” April shrugged. “Besides, almost a third of the crew s American now, they need to get on with it.”
“But can they? I mean…”
“Enough Pete, the worst that could happen is we get keel hauled. Accept that and move on.”
For a moment Pete was speechless.
“When did you become the rational one? I’m the one who always says ‘get over it’ in this partnership.”
“Someone has to wear the pants, and right now it ain’t you.” She giggled.
“It’s a perfectly rational concern!”
“Mallory and Lantree are best buddies, if there was a problem they’d sort it out.”
“Well maybe no one’s told them.”
“Well maybe you should?” April suggested. “Come on, stop worrying, Diego isn’t worried.”
“Oh how is he?” Pete asked weakly. “Just pretend I actually care.”
She smiled widely. “Jealous?”
“Does it show?” Pete admitted with some bashfulness. “He spends a lot of time with you, I think he likes you.”
“Course he does, but your position is safe.” She assured. “Stop worrying, it’ll give you wrinkles.”
“There’s a lot to worry about!” He defended.
“But not here, and not right now.” She soothed. “Worrying makes no difference, just relax and let me take care of you.”
“Again, that’s supposed to be my job.”
She smiled. “Shut up and find a quiet corner.”
Commander Mallory was fixated, stood in the gloom stiffly with his arms folded over the front of his pressure suit, a stance he had maintained for longer than most people had noticed. He remained poised like a frowning statue, glaring at the large holographic display that buzzed and sometimes flickered as it hovered in thin air over the plotting table, the instability a result of the pounding the ship had taken.
“How long now?”
“Almost six hours.” Lieutenant Cheyo responded to his question.
“It looks like it’s growing more intense, the range must by within twenty or thirty thousand klicks by now.”
“A good guess sir, it’s hard to tell but the computer predicts twenty thousand kilometres between the core of both clusters.”
The Amethyst was having a difficult time searching the path before it, her sensor arrays had been heavily damaged in battle greatly reducing the power and sensitivity of her systems, blurring her electronic eyes. The problem was compounded by the excessive jamming that only grew more and more impenetrable as she approached the core of the Solar System, the interference resting over the Belt like a fuzzy blanket impeding her senses.
Fortunately the Amethyst still had one reliable method of viewing the universe, her optical sensors which ranged from precision telescopes to wide angle holographic cameras to open doors with heads peering out. It was very hard to block visual detection gear, the normal method being a spot light shone towards the offending vessel. Happily for the Amethyst nobody seemed to know where she was, and as such her observations went unmarked.
Right now as her cameras viewed space around her the several telescopes that had survived this far were focused inwards, looking with computer assisted precision deep into space seeking even the barest hint that there could be danger ahead. They had already spotted an uncharted asteroid cluster directly in their path that would need to be threaded, but worse had then unfolded.
In the far distance the telescopes had picked up movement, a formation of warships accelerating from over six AU’s away, their ion trails the only indication they existed. From so far away it was impossible to see the ships themselves unless they were caught in direct sunlight, even mile long super carriers and dreadnoughts simply faded into the background.
The ion trails they could see were like tiny wisps of blue and white light, like scratches on the lens, yet in reality they were jets of energy hundreds, even thousands of metres long propelling immense vessels at ever increasing speed. The computer had calculated at least four hundred tracks moving from the approximate direction of Mars, the spectral analysis of the ion trails suggesting they were American built engines. It was a very sizeable fleet, built around about a hundred and twenty capital ships ranging from heavy cruisers right up to a handful of supercarriers, at least that was what the ion trail analysis concluded.
They had watched the fleet move for over four days, their acceleration sometimes varying but usually averaging three G’s which was unusual for such big ships. The reason eventually revealed itself, on the fifth day of observation they spotted a second cluster of ion trails moving in from a separate vector. The American ships were accelerating vigourously to match relative speeds with this new fleet, reducing the speed difference between target and attacker to give the guns a better chance of actually hitting something.
Inevitably the sensors predicted the opposing fleet was Chinese, and were more than happy to allow the Americans to catch up and initiate combat.
The initial salvoes had been fired from extreme long range, over eight light seconds distance offering very little probability of a hit. It wasn’t until the two forces closed to within two light seconds that things began to heat up, with American and Chinese forces engaging each other with massive salvoes of rail gun fire and missile barrages. The battle had lasted six hours so far, the two sides largely keeping their distance and trying to score hits from range with very little success. Eventually the Chinese force had broken position first and moved to close the range, the closer they came the more accurate their fire becoming. Of course it tended to work both ways, and the fleets on either side of the battle began to take hits.
It had been difficult to work out how the battle was going at first, only the odd gunflash indicating that the two sides were even engaging, the fleets lined up on the same course a light second apart exchanging broadsides like ancient ships of the line. It was a tactic most naval theorists believed would work well in large scale combat, imagining their line of ships could effortlessly demolish the enemy with accurate concentrated fire before the same happened to them.
The reality had ultimately turned out to be different, and as no one had actually fought a full scale fleet battle in space before it appeared the opposing Admirals were inventing new tactics and strategy on the spur of the moment. It was fascinating to observe from a distance, watching the ion trails re arrange from two opposing walls of ships into a myriad of different formations as the battle dragged on and commanders experimented, but on board those duelling leviathans the experience was unlikely to be anything over then desperation and nerve shredding fear.
The two sides were clearly very well trained and drilled, the speed and precision with which they altered formation was commendable, all the time maintaining a steady rate of fire, correcting for drift and movement, and attempting to put themselves into a superior gunnery position. None of it had worked, the impressive levels of ECM making accurate gunfire at range a matter of insane luck while missile swarms met their end at the hands of massed point defence weapons long before they became a threat. It was stalemate.
The Chinese fleet had two main advantages over the US fleet, advantages the Chinese Admiral was wise enough to try and exploit. First he had six hundred ships as opposed to the four hundred of his adversary, and while these numbers hadn’t helped the long ranged gunnery duel they would help him maintain a potent striking force even if he lost units while closing in on his enemy. The other advantage was that virtually all the Chinese ships were built as ship killers, armed to the teeth with guns and missiles, while a decent portion of the US fleet were Carriers with only limit direct combat potential.
On balance the Chinese fleet should do better in a close range fight, something their commander was eager to explore. He formed his ships into a three dimensional wedge, placed his heaviest ships at the front, and charged.
In response the US fleet had broken up, dissolving its wall of capital ships and assembling into battlegroups and task forces, small knots of firepower that angled themselves to surround the incoming Chinese force and catch them in a cross fire.
It had been an intricate ballet to watch, a game of move and counter move, both Admirals playing their cards exceptionally well hiding weaknesses and exploiting strengths. That had now come to an end, and the grace of deployment had been superseded by the brutal reality of killing as many people as possible before they killed you.
The battle, the first true battle fought between space going warships, had now descended into a brutal hammering match, a contest of strength and stamina fought with thousand ton rail gun shells and super dense hull armour. Finally the world could see what happened when immovable objects met unstoppable forces, when battleships slammed multi thousand ton darts into each other at a few thousand kilometres, when ships massing tens of millions of tons were torn and sheared like plywood, when proud capital ships were forced to limp away from the front line gutted and burning, trickles of blood leaking from their hulls and freezing in the harsh environment beyond.
Beside the guns were the missiles, now finally able to be used effectively, leaping the distance in mere seconds. The Chinese unloaded their magazines, the silver spikes battering the American ships while in turn tens of thousands of Attack Drones burst forth from the hanger decks of the Carrier groups, dodging and weaving with impossible agility as they made their bombing runs.
The violence was unbelievable, over half a million souls trapped in steel cans trying to puncture or vaporise each other. The armour on their vessels was immense, strong enough to resist megaton level impacts in the case of the larger battleships, but even they would be defenceless against a five thousand ton round striking them at high speed. There was nowhere to hide in space, no way to accelerate fast enough to outrun pursuit, no guaranteed way of surviving a direct hit from a cannon or a neutron warhead. The only option was to defeat the enemy or surrender, a narrowness of choice which motivated crews to fight even harder. A few ships seemed likely to escape, too smashed up to justify wasting fuel or ammunition chasing, but at least one crippled battleship that tried to withdraw was swarmed by destroyers and nuked into oblivion.
It was man’s greatest scientific achievements applied to the task of killing, the science of slaughter, death by numbers.
“Hard to see which side is winning.” Jane watched the same display with avid interest, trying to follow the lines of engine trails and flashes of fire. “The amount of firepower in there is astonishing.”
“Like a cauldron.” Mallory remarked grimly. “Any one of those capital ships could wipe out a country, some of them could do a damn good job depopulating the whole of the Earth, and here we have hundreds of them letting loose with all they have. I never thought I’d see it.”
The entire display was sparkling, tiny sprinkles of light that lived for a brief instant before vanishing, like moonlight glittering on waves rolling up a beach. Each white or blue spark was a nuclear explosion, the result of the missile or shell casing vaporising during detonation. Dozens, sometimes hundreds detonated every second, the intense burst of radiation visible to the Amethyst scanners despite the distance, the jamming and the battle damage.
“This battle has unleashed more destruction in the last half hour then has ever been released in the long sad history of mankind.” He continued. “Every war, every accident, every test, every act of violence and provocation. Add it all up and it is still less then what we have seen today, far less.”
“Their guns are firing on semi automatic.” Jane considered. “They’re lobbing nukes like confetti. I didn’t think there were so many warheads in the world.”
“Chinese ships are packed with missiles, and those American Attack Drones pack six nukes as standard armament.” Mallory maintained his gaze, his arms still crossed. “Lot of firepower.”
“And these are just portions of the main forces, there are at least five thousand ships out here between the US and Chinese commands.” Jane spoke with a hint of apprehension. “Even more around the Earth and Venus lines.”
“Thank Heaven they’re fighting well away from any stations or planets.” The Commander mentioned with relief. “You could lose civilisation itself in the crossfire here, accidental Armageddon.”
They watched the battle continuing to unfold, nothing but coloured specks of light dozens of light minutes away, real ships with real people on board often meeting a violent and swift end. Now and again the blue lights were joined by red ones, tiny specks representing mile wide balls of fire erupting from catastrophic direct hits. Each blink marked the ends of hundreds if not thousands of lives. There one moment, then gone back to darkness the next.
“That was a big one.” Jane noted, a glimmer of red lasting for several seconds on the display, a hint of the titanic fireball burning through oxygen and combustibles on an enormous scale. “Dreadnought or Supercarrier.”
It seemed absurdly morbid to speculate like this, trying to guess who or what had just gone up in flames, yet with the detachment of distance and anonymity it appeared almost normal and acceptable. Perhaps they had become jaded by the deaths of friends on board, Mallory considered quietly, or maybe it was just always the way in war.
“They’re still fighting.” He observed with a nod of grudging respect. “They haven’t tried to surrender yet, and there aren’t many left.”
“I wonder if they know what happened out here, with the Nashville?” His First Officer wondered. “If they knew about the execution of survivors I doubt either side would surrender willingly.”
“Maybe.” Mallory agreed. “Though I think if they’d seen it they would have spotted us, and we should have been intercepted by now, preferably by our own side.”
“There should be a cruiser patrol near this sector, out beyond the belt in unclaimed space.” Jane remembered. “One of ours.”
“Captain Rossellini of the Semovente.” Mallory smiled. “Good man, and a good ship, he usually has a heavy escort. We could use him right about now.”
“Could have used him two months ago.”
The distant battle drew even more intense, a great concentration of lights in its centre while individual trails still fell away like sparks from a welding force, damaged and lame ships trying to get some distance before somebody tried to pursue them. The escorting destroyers and frigates of both sides were eager to pounce on the wounded, circling in like wolves stalking a bloodied tiger. Often friendly destroyer groups moved to help their limping comrades, sparking a much smaller but no less violent confrontation at the periphery of the main battle, drawing a few showers of nukes and gunfire before the smaller ships either broke off or quickly annihilated one side or the other.
“It’s still going on.”
Steve Lantree walked steadily up to the plotting table, arriving between the two Royal navy Officers and sharing their concerned expressions. While the Amethyst staff could sympathise with the horror unfolding for their fellow sailors all that distance away, for Lantree half of those people were his countrymen, his brothers and sisters of the flag, quite possibly his friends. They all knew full well there was nothing they could do, no influence they could exert. Even if they had been among the combatants they would merely have been stepped on without achieving anything. It was a battle beyond their capacity to fight.
“Six hours now.” Mallory informed the American. “You should be getting some rest Captain, you’re off duty.”
“Couldn’t sleep, not with this happening.” Lantree responded honestly. “Any new forces?”
“Nothing.” Jane returned. “Hard to see how it’s going.”
“But it doesn’t take a genius to work out the odds.” Lantree allowed. “The Chinese are going to win this one, whoever was running the US fleet should have turned and broken off the fight when he saw them forming to close up.”
“Wouldn’t be easy to outrun them.” Mallory commented.
“No, probably not, but our ships have better acceleration than Chinese ones, and better a long range stern chase for a few hours than this sort of close in gunnery duel. We just don’t have the numbers.”
He shook his head in exasperation, the flickering battle gradually drawing to a close, the lights concentrating into ever smaller groups.
“Good ships and good people, but our fleet isn’t built for wall to wall gunnery like the Chinese, or hell, like almost everyone else. We’re supposed to stand off and let the drones do the work from long range.”
“Perhaps whoever was in charge got carried away, thought his battleships could handle it.” Jane presumed.
“Maybe he did.” Lantree nodded. “Then he better hope the Chinese kill him here and now, because he’s gonna get lynched by his own men if he makes it back to Reagan or Ike.”
There was a final flurry of red flashes before it ended, the sudden emptiness looking surprising despite it being the backdrop for the entire mission, as if the blackness of space was the change and the glittering battle the norm.
“I can still see some ion trails that match American parameters.” Cheyo reported. “It looks like they’ve surrendered.”
“And the Chinese have allowed it?” Lantree checked. “No shooting the ships after they stand down?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“That’s a mercy.” The American officer exhaled.
“They’ll probably rescue survivors too.” Mallory theorised. “I’m afraid the Nashville was unlucky in its enemies Captain, closer to civilisation things might have been different.”
“I’ve met Chinese Admirals in the past, in better days.” Lantree recalled. “Some were assholes, but there were enough who seemed like decent people, honourable. Guess this fleet was commanded by one of them.”
“As you say Captain, a mercy.”
“What about survivors?” Jane asked. “How many ships broke away?”
“Looking at the tracks quite a few destroyer sized ships have made it, they’re burning for home hard, I doubt the Chinese will catch them.” Cheyo flicked through a series of computer images, stills from the battle. “Maybe a few cruisers too, the ones that broke off early, they’ve probably got enough of a head start to evade any pursuit.”
She grimaced, looking toward Lantree apologetically.
“Most of the capital ships aren’t going to make it, Chinese heavy destroyers and light cruisers I’d guess are being sent to round up stragglers.”
“They’ll demand a surrender.” Mallory said. “And if they are refused they’ll either nuke the ship then and there, or disable engines and weapons before boarding.”
“Boarding a battleship?” Jane hissed through her teeth. “That’s going to get really nasty.”
“No offence Captain.” Mallory nodded to Lantree. “But if they’re smart they’ll surrender. I can understand taking on tall odds for a reason, to buy time or inflict disproportionate losses on an enemy, but resisting in these circumstances would be foolish. Let them take the ship.”
“On that I’d disagree Commander.” Lantree replied. “There’s a lot of pride tied up in a ship. It’s one of the earliest battle cries of the US Navy, Don’t give up the ship.”
“And look how that ended.” Mallory pushed carefully. “The Chinese aren’t monsters. Usually.”
“Let me ask you Captain, would you give up this ship?”
Mallory had to pause for a moment before answering. “I would surrender, yes, I would get my crew off and ensure they were safe.”
Lantree raised an eyebrow. “And…?”
Mallory chuckled. “Then I’d blow her to pieces before I let someone take her. Point made Captain, but there’s a difference between losing a ship and losing a crew. I’d surrender for the sake of the lives onboard before anything else.”
Lantree nodded in acceptance of the answer. “If we run into a Chinese patrol before we cross the belt you might have to make that choice.”
“Well I know I’d prefer being given an option instead of just being shot at without any warning like last time.” He grunted back. “Last I heard there were rules in war.”
“Like in Cricket.” Jane agreed.
“And if you didn’t obey the rules you were tried by a tribunal of international judges and thrown in jail forever.”
“Like in Cricket.”
“And if you were lucky you were kept in isolation until you died, rather than having to deal with your fellow inmates who would happily bite your face off or shove sharpened fingernails in your eyes.”
“Like in Crick…”
“Has that ever actually happened in Cricket?” Mallory cut her off. “Or is this just one of those weekly themes you have?”
Jane raised an innocent eyebrow. “My Grandfather was an England international in the sixties, toured the world, played in countries where Cricket is like a religion. Some people take it really seriously. Really seriously.”
“There are some days when I honestly don’t know if you are making this stuff up on the spot or not.”
“Oh. Good.” Jane smiled. “Then I’m fulfilling my New Year resolution.”
“To annoy me?”
“That’s just a pleasant side effect.”