Chapter 10
Catapult was typical for her class. Ship-to-ship weaponry consisted of a honeycombed cluster of silos, filled with missiles all mounting nuclear-fusion warheads of various destructive yields. Those same missiles could also be used against ground targets if need be. To protect herself, Catapult had a second honeycombed cluster of antimissile silos, each designed to home on, intercept, and destroy incoming nukes. This system was backed by a point-defense network utilizing automated railguns which—while not sufficiently powerful in singular form to critically damage another large warship in space—could knock out incoming projectiles up to the size of something capable of carrying a bomb, or simply perforate the hull of an enemy ship when operated in concert.
As a last resort, the ship could aim its aft end in the direction of the enemy, and ignite the fusion thrusters—creating a stream of hydrogen plasma focused enough to cripple any vessel foolishly crossing Catapult’s wake within a few kilometers.
Unlike her larger cousins, Catapult didn’t carry much in the way of actual armor. Her chief asset was maneuverability. Being light meant having less mass, which in turn meant needing less thrust and fuel to perform essential ship-to-ship combat maneuvers. And while it would only take one direct hit from a substantial nuke to break Catapult’s spine, she could effectively strafe larger vessels and escape to safe distance before worrying about counterattacks.
Or at least, that was what modern Constellar interplanetary space war theory held to be true. Based on a combination of actual combat action and cleverly extrapolated astrophysics.
Zuri Mikton had never taken such a small ship into a fight. She wasn’t quite sure the frigate would be up to the job of handling Nautilan ships larger than some of the enemy’s outsized corvettes. And with over half her force being unarmed, there wasn’t going to be any leeway. Catapult would be—along with the two long-range scouts—the only armed Constellar ship on the other side of the Waypoint capable of putting up sufficient resistance. Should there be any enemy vessels present upon arrival—Daffodil notwithstanding.
So, what did the new system offer?
“It’s unremarkable,” Commodore Urrl said, pointing his finger at the two-dimensional cross section on the main wall screen of Catapult’s small briefing room, adjacent to the command module. “This system has been in the planet-finder catalog for hundreds of years. Six gas worlds ranging in size from point-six jovian standard, to one-point-five jovian standard. All but one of those is on the perimeter, with the largest being very close to the home star—which is a yellow dwarf somewhat larger and brighter than Oswight’s sun. I’d almost count the system as a binary, except indications are that the big jovian never underwent internal fusion.
“The central planets are harder to pinpoint. Guessing at least five terrestrials, ranging in mass from point-two terrestrial standard, to one-point-three terrestrial standard. There’s some water there. As well as nitrogen. Perhaps a hint of oxygen? None of the planet-finder missions ever devoted extensive study time to this system, so we don’t have much else to look at, besides the basic dossier.”
“Oort and Kuiper formations?” Zuri asked her executive officer.
“We’re guessing standard on both, though there does seem to be some evidence of two separate asteroid belts. One sandwiched between the jovians on the outside, and one between the big jovian on the inside and the next nearest terrestrial.”
“Any word on the status of the Daffodil?”
“Negative,” Urrl said. “I’ve been in touch with Iakar on an hourly basis, and Daffodil never came back over the Waypoint. We’ll have to continue to assume she’s keeping station in the new system, waiting for reinforcements to arrive.”
“Copy,” Zuri said, resting her chin on a knuckle. “What’s your gut telling you?”
“Damned if I know, boss,” Urrl said, slapping a hand down on the small table between them. “I’ve got very little in the way of hunches. I have to assume that everybody will want a piece of this, but they’ll have to connect through Waypoints in Nautilan and Constellar space first. So…we’ve really only got one competitor to worry about. Unfortunately, it’s the worst opponent we could ask for. When they start moving ships, they’re going to move them in massive quantities. But that takes time. Which means the Daffodil might have given us the advantage—assuming there even is an advantage to getting there first. We’re not even sure what it is we expect to find. You get some information off that Oswight woman who’s over on Antagean’s lead ship?”
“She spent thirty minutes giving me a lot of ideas,” Zuri said. “But until we actually have some tangible reconnaissance to work with, I don’t dare plan for specific scenarios. We’re just going to have to chew our fingernails off until we hit the Waypoint, and hope that when we reach the other side there isn’t a Nautilan battle group waiting for us.”
Commodore Urrl drummed his fingers on his thighs, then reached for his microgravity coffee mug.
“Nothing from nothing means nothing,” he muttered.
“Or everything,” Zuri said. “It doesn’t take a genius to hope that whatever we find over there, it helps us in the war.”
“Some form of Waymaker weapon?” Urrl said, an eyebrow raised.
“Or maybe a piece of technology they never used as a weapon, but which might work to our advantage anyway. Imagine if all of the different Waypoints could somehow be forced to connect to each other at once?”
“Now there’s a frightening thought,” Urrl said. “The entirety of the Nautilan military could systematically pop into our space at any system they chose.”
“Well, maybe. But what if it was something only we could use, and we used it first?”
“Hmmm, that’s a much more attractive idea. Put together a strike fleet. Start hitting the Nauties anywhere, anytime we wanted. Make it random, so that they’d never be sure when we might spring up in their back yard—guns blazing. Yes, I like your imagination much more than I like my imagination. Mine is filled with too many dreary wargaming outcomes, all of which are bad for us.”
“They’ve pretty much been bad for us, as long as either you or I have been in the service.”
“Yeah,” Urrl said glumly, while frowning.
“There’s got to be some way we can work this discovery to Constellar advantage,” Zuri said, standing up. She started to pace back and forth in front of the wall screen, her eyes focused on the air roughly one meter in front of her.
“Even if there’s nothing worth having in the new system, it’s bound to draw at least some of Nautilan’s interest. Enough for them to risk thinning out their forces in other areas?”
“And then we hit back?” Urrl asked. “Regain some of what’s been lost?”
“Yes,” Zuri said.
“This assumes your bosses are even thinking offensively. And we both know they’re not. Face it. Constellar is on a near-permanent defensive footing. We’ve been beaten so many times, we can’t see straight. And there’s nobody at the top level who is crazy enough to suggest that we try to turn the tables on our enemies—whether a realistic opportunity to do so presents itself, or not.”
Zuri sat down again, and knotted her fingers into her close-cropped silver hair.
“Something’s got to give,” she said quietly. “Either we’ve got to break out, or we’re going to break down. That’s Nautilan’s whole strategy, and has been for two centuries of almost continual hostilities. They push us, we react—and lose—then they push us again, and so on, and so forth. Just once in my life, I’d like to push them for a change. Make them have to think about it. Cost them a little blood and soil.”
“Preaching to the converted,” Urrl said, allowing himself a small smile. “And I really hope you’re right, boss. Truly. I do. Nobody would be happier than me if we found something on the other side of the Waypoint—some way to flip the situation around. Put the Nauties on the defensive. Make them eat a little bit of their pride. That’s something every single Constellar officer dreams about. But are we just imposing a lot of wishful thinking on what could turn out to be an entirely random, empty event? I’ll happily go wherever you point me. You know that. But I have to admit, this mission has so many variables attached, I just can’t do meaningful analysis. We literally don’t know anything. And the only good part about it is that we can fairly bet on the idea that the Nauties aren’t in any better shape. They’re sitting around wondering the same things we are. Or, at least, similar things.”
“I wish to hell we had comms with Daffodil right now,” Zuri muttered. “That ship’s got the goods—assuming they’ve survived, and can tell the tale. By the time we cross, Daffodil will have had many days to do a first-run survey. I want to hope that the information they can give us will help us make the right decisions, quickly enough, to gain or keep an upper hand.”
Urrl’s mouth buttoned up into a small frown.
“What’s your sense about Antagean, and his crews?” he asked.
“You tell me,” Zuri replied.
“I guess if I have to ask, I’ve already answered my own question,” he muttered.
“I’m not thrilled bringing three boats filled with civilians on this trip, either.” Zuri said.
“The lieutenant commander himself,” Commodore Urrl said, “that’s who really worries me. He’s just a civilian playacting like he’s one of us. I can tell the type. All of the Reserve is like that. Happier being out of the ranks than in them. You mark my words. When the pain comes, he’s liable to fold. He hasn’t fought the way you and I have both fought.”
“There has to be a first time for everything,” Zuri said.
“If he didn’t fight when he was young,” Urrl groused, “he’s not much good to us now, at his age and rank. You learn those skills early, or you don’t earn them at all.”
“Maybe,” Zuri said, then allowed herself a slow, exasperated exhale. “But it’s not like we had better options. We’re going to have to hope that Antagean doesn’t crack once the rockets start flying. If they start flying. And if he does crack…I can always relieve him. Whether his crews like it, or not. They belong to us for the duration of the trip. The onus is on the lieutenant commander to prove he deserves his rank.”