Patience and Timing, or, When The Wire Snaps, Who Dies?
Song dropped from legionspace. A simmer of nausea as her perception realigned.
A single mind, once more, in a single body.
Song felt the straps holding her still, the drift. The muttering of the ship’s NHP, the hiss of air through her helmet.
The August was quiet. Stalking.
--
“Commander Song.” Arkady, her XO, flat over the ship’s comms. “Chassis wings are holding at eighty kilometers, dark and waiting for our ping.”
“And the Aun?”
“Trajectory hasn’t changed” Arkady whispered - no telling how sensitive the Aun’s instruments were.
--
Song adjusted her straps, pulling herself tight to the chair. “Show me,” she said, nodding to the bridge’s theater.
The theater lit, a realtime display cast from the lead chassis pilot’s FOV.
The August’s bridge filled with light: The Aun built their ships to be seen.
--
A white blade, three kilometers along the spine, a kilometer at the beam. Red banners trailed for kilometers behind it.
Tonnage classified it as a battleship.
Song leaned forward to count the bolts. “Four Glories to its name.” She grimaced. “A real bastard.”
--
“We counted three gunboats in escort,” August, the ship’s NHP, chimed in.
“Where?”
“Crossed into the target’s umbra line while you were in legionspace.”
“Armament?”
“No radiation signatures, net tonnage estimates allow for schedule 2 weapons.”
Song scratched her chin. “Hardlight.”
--
“Commander,” Arkady interrupted. “Our window is closing.”
“One minute for impact positive scenario,” August agreed.
“You have fire control, Arkady,” Song said. “Pilot, take us ahead at half a gee.”
“Firing,” Arkady whispered. The August shook. “Torpedos away”
--
Song’s subtext hovered in view, dim in the red safelight:
>[AUG(CSS_03272)::OPEN CHANNEL{ 2.DRAGOON_CPT}]
>>[2.DRAGOON.STR:{15}IPSN_TOR/{5}HA_SAL/{10}HA_SHER]
>[AUG(CSS_03272)::2.DRAGOON_CPT:: GOOD MORNING CPT HOW ARE THE STARS?]
>[CPT.D::STILL SHINING SIR. GOT A JOB FOR US?]
--
>[AUG(CSS_03272)::CPT.D:: SENDING DATA NOW. OBJ1+2 ON APPROACH. IMPERATIVE ESCORT. SEE TO IT THEY MEET THAT SHIP]
>[CPT.D::AUG(CSS_03272):: AYE. GOOD TRAJECTORY ON KILL CLOUDS. SHOULD WE EXPECT SUBLINE?]
>[AUG(CSS_03272)::CPT.D::YES, PROCEED WEAPONS FREE]
--
>[CPT.DEVARAKONDA::2SQ ESCORT TORP1 TO OBJ, 3SQ ESCORT TORP2 TO OBJ. 1SQ+4SQ INTERCEPT ALL FIRE]
>[SQ1::Y]
>[SQ2::Y]
>[SQ3::Y]
>[SQ4::Y]
>[CPT.D:: AUG(CSS_03272) ENGAGE ESCORT CONFIRM?]
>[AUG(CSS_03272):: WILCO ENGAGING]
>[SQ2::CONTACT CONTACT CONTACT FAST MOVERS]
--
The August lurched to the side, the sudden change of gravity turning Song’s stomach. Her chair whirred, tracking the ship’s movement as the pilot ran the frigate through counterfactual approach patterns.
“Steady on target,” the XO muttered. “Firing kinetics.”
--
>[CPT.D:: 2SQ+3SQ SCREEN TORP1+2//2SQA+B+E+J::DROP::PROVIDE COVER AWAIT ASSISTANCE]
>[2SQD:: CAP ARE WE TO PROCEED AT CURRENT STR]
>[CPT.D::Y]
>[CPT.D::1SQD+4SQD:: REPORT]
>[1SQA::C+F KIA//FAST MOVERS ARE REAL FUCKERS SIR]
>[CPT.D::NEED ASSIST?]
>[1SQA:: CC:AUGUST:: FIRE SUPPORT ON ME]
--
“XO,” Song said, reading her subtext. “Payload to that chassis. And get those escorts onto my theater.”
“Aye,” Arkady muttered. His attention was on fire control.
Through the viewports ahead, the Aun ship loomed.
Song watched the first salvo ripple out from its flank.
--
“Kill-cloud at .4 conical density. Good choke, good density.”
“Impact spread?”
“If it hits? .6-.63. That’s with no target deviation.
“Push trajectories to E Company,” Song said. She leaned back into her seat. “They can use those clouds as cover to approach.”
--
The battlescape relayed the engagement in sterile realtime.
Four wings of mounted chassis streaked forward in loose formation, two breaking to cover the August’s anticapital torpedoes.
Three red triangles, Aun escorts, dove to meet them.
Between, thousands of white lines. Gunfire.
--
Beyond, a red rectangle: the Aun battleship.
Parabolas arced across the ‘scape, plotted trajectories of incoming and outgoing fire.
“Tracking, engaged. Tracking, engaged. Tracking, engaged,” whispered August.
The subtle vibration of the August’s PDCs destroying incoming kinetics.
--
And if the Aun out-plotted them? If August’s calculations were outmatched? If their pilot flew incorrect counterfactuals?
They could take a hit from the escorts, that’s why the Autumn had vented its air before the fight.
The big ship’s batteries would swat them out of the sky.
--
They had one chance to deal a killing blow.
“August, tell me we can charge faster,” Song said. She could see their batteries’ charge rate, creeping up.
“Not unless we drop shields.”
Song looked to Arkady, who shook his head.
“Sir?”
“Hold at the current rate. Fire on my order.”
--
Positioning. The parry. The feint.
Combat was a winding wire, twisting and tight. It would break in a single, catastrophic snap, but who would the shear kill?
Closer, closer. The August using the swirling combat between E Company and the Aun’s subline escorts as a shield.
--
A flash, dimmed across real and projected theaters.
“One of the escorts just, uh,” Arkady paused. “It just dove into one of our torpedos.”
“E Company?”
“They’re down to 15 chassis. Pull them back?”
“No,” Song said. “We need that coverage.”
--
>[CPT.D::ALL.SQD:: MARK DEBRIS FOR PICKUP AND RALLY TO TORP1]
>[1SQDA::COULD USE PDC WASH, SHIELDS ARE GETTING THIN]
>[CPT.D:: HEARD. KC SHOULD BE CLOSE]
>[1SQDC:: RAMI IS DOWN]
>[1SQDC::WE’RE GETTING CHEWED UP OUT HERE CAP]
>[3SQDA: 3SQD EN ROUTE LAH, MARK TARGETS HANG TIGHT]
--
Patience, and timing. Song steadied her breathing. This was the most tense moment.
“Nearing battery range. Solution secured.” August said. “Charge is complete and maintaining.”
“Soon as we’re clear of E Company--”
The Aun battleship fired its main gun.
--
Hardlight was visible. It was meant to be: it was death’s pale horse.
At first a flash, a beam thin as a thread. Song saw it on the battlescape, then through the bridge’s viewports. Her helm recognized the signature as well, and opaqued a blink before more damage could be done.
--
The hardlight beam did not appear to travel in the same way a shell or missile would; it simply appeared, a searing blue white beam of energy.
E Company, the Aun’s escorts, the torpedo -- all gone. Not even enough mass to cause the beam to stutter.
--
Song could still order the August’s batteries to fire; The Aun had lost.
They had one shot, a single chance to hit and kill their target before their target could shoot. It took too long to build up a battery charge for a second. If you missed, you were dead.
The August fired.
--
“Clear my helm, August,” Song shouted. “Clear it!”
Her helm began to defrost, spotty. The hardlight beam had missed them, but even its wake had done damage. She has spots in her vision.
“Report!”
“What kind?”
“Everything!”
--
Alone, the August drifted. The hardlight beam had passed within ten kilometers of the ship, the bleed heat enough to slag half her engines.
The August’s own long-cycle batteries had lanced the Aun ship, torn it in half. Its Glories fluttered, tangled, but did not burn.
--
“We won,” Arkady said. He leaned on the bar in the officer’s mess.
Song sat, hunched, at the only table. “E Company?”
Arkady crossed his arms, his shoulders hunched. “They were a necessary sacrifice.”
Song sipped her flask. “We don’t have the numbers for necessary sacrifices.”
--
“Sirs.” August interrupted the two officers over the ship’s PA. “Omni from FleetCom: it’s Harvest. The Aun are massing for Harvest next.”
“Thanks, Aug,” Song said.
The long hiss of air, ever-present. If it stopped, you died.
“We’ll win one of these fights, sir,” Arkady said.
--
Song stood from the table, leaving her flask behind.
“We won this one, Arkady,” she said as she passed her XO.
Arkady grunted, what passed as a laugh. “Are you sure?”
“Now you see,” Song said, and then left, helm in hand, for the bridge.