Dawn for a distant earth, p.6
Dawn For A Distant Earth, page 6
"... have no lucifer for Demetros ..."
"... field cor Gyros, cor Janus ..."
"... EDI standing wave ... heavy battlecruiser . . . Imperial . . . presume Imperial presence ..."
"... Gabriel . . . negative diversion . . . understand battlecruiser ..."
"... unleash Cherubim on north coast. . . . North coast ..."
Another green blip pinged into existence in the jump corridor outsystem behind the Fordin. That made three out of the four comprising the Imperial quarantine squadron.
Gerswin studied the representational screen, then the three green dots upon it. Three ships. Just three ships? Where were the corvettes?
He checked the closure on the Newparran patroller and found that the closure time had dropped to less than thirty minutes.
"Cadet Gerswin, Chief Alvera, give me a weapons spread proposal for target one." There was no mistaking the voice of the major.
Gerswin turned to Alvera and raised his eyebrows. He'd done proposals at the Academy, but was the major serious?
"Like this. Cadet. Patroller characteristics under subscript . . . here . . . armor, screens, power max. Then factor the profile, closure rate, and acceleration ..."
"Acceleration?"
"Acceleration. Don't teach that at the Academy. Acceleration takes power. Less power for screens. Too much acceleration and you can't shift from gravfield to screens without losing control. Some ships have limited shunt capability. Bigger the ship, less shunt capacity. That's why the battlecruiser is the biggest effective single action ship."
Alvera's fingers danced across his controls, and then touched a stud.
"Hit accept, Cadet."
Gerswin touched the stud, and a duplicate of Alvera's proposal lined up on his work screen.
Gerswin studied the recommendation for a moment. Alvera had suggested using six tacheads spaced in a bowl-like pattern, whose detonation would be preceded by a series of quick-spaced bursts from the punch laser. No hellbumers, obviously.
The cadet pulled his lips'together as he tried to follow the tech's reasoning. The actual energy that could be diverted to the laser would scarcely dent a corvette's screens, let alone the heavier ones carried by a patroller.
"Understand the tacheads. Chief. Why the laser? Energy level wouldn't break his screens."
"Not the purpose. With his profile against ours, no laser could make a physical impact. The laser bursts are powerful enough to blind him for six-seven seconds. That forces him to move, but he'll have to move blind, and the tacheads are spaced on the most probable computed evasion tracks.
"Odds are that no local system government would be able to pull together a complete crew experienced enough to handle the course changes. They'll have to trust their AI, and that's what the tacheads are programmed against."
Alvera touched the stud to transmit the recommendation. "Cadet Gerswin, do you concur in the chief's recommendation?"
"That is affirmative, Major." "Chief, what delay factor did you compute for reaction time
to the first-laser?"
"One point five standard seconds." "Too quick for a crew that will be short-handed or inexperienced. Run it at two point five for the inner spread and angle it back to four point five for the outer."
Alvera nodded.
"Will do. Major."
Gerswin watched as the chief made his corrections.
"Looks good, Chief. Set the spread for execution from the command console."
"Stet, Major. In the green."
The noise level in the already quiet Gunnery operations center dropped further, and the silence, unbroken except for a faint humming, stretched on and on.
"Ten until contact. Program running."
Gerswin looked down, was surprised to find his fists were clenched, and forced himself to relax them. The shipboard version of a fight was so dispassionate, so far removed from the jagged blade and the threat of a king rat or a she coyote on the prowl. Here, his fate was in the hands of so many others. ...
The background scent of fear, faint enough not to reach the awareness of the others, acrid, lingering, began to fill the center. To Gerswin, even the ventilation system seemed to stop, while the air hung heavy over the screens and consoles.
Cling.
"Laser punch on. Burst one."
The lights in the center dimmed momentarily, flickered, then remained at the lower level.
"Burst two."
On the representational screen, the green blip that was the Fordin sprouted a yellow lance that crept toward the Newpar-ran patroller only slightly faster than the Fordin did.
Gerswin detected the gentlest of shudders in the battle-cruiser's frame.
"Burst four."
"Tachead spread one away."
"Burst five."
"Spread two away."
"Burst six."
"Three away."
Ding! Ding! Ding!
"All hands! All hands! Evasive maneuvers! Evasive maneuvers! Remain at stations! Remain at stations!"
Gerswin glanced over at Alvera, discovered the tech was studying the screen, his hands resting on the edge of the console, unmoving.
"... fiela Gyros . . . cor Janus ..."
"... Imperial target . . . heads away ..."
The whispers from the comm monitors took on an added loudness in the comparative silence of the center.
". . . field Janus . . . nir nulla trahit . . ."
"Imperial EDIs outsystem ..."
"... releasing and commencing beta . . . evasion ..."
"... diversion when appropriate . . . when appropriate ..."
The lighting level dropped further, to emergency levels, and the gravfield dropped toward the null point before surging momentarily to almost two gees, then dropping to a stable one gravity.
Through it all, Gerswin kept his eyes on the representational screen, watching as the simulated punch laser impacted the Newparran patroller's screen image, and as the images of the tachead bursts began to blossom on the screen, and as the course line of the Fordin veered left, then angled back.
The red blip that had represented the Newparran patroller flared brightly, then vanished.
"Target termination complete," announced the major as the gunnery lights returned to normal.
As the former devilkid watched the silent kill of who knew how many men and women, he shook himself, almost like a wet coyote, but he continued to watch the screen. The Fordin's course line again shifted, this time toward the sixth planet, presumably for the two satellites rather than for the gas giant itself. Better the sixth than the seventh, which was a third of the way around its orbit from the Imperial battlecruiser, reflected Gerswin.
Since there were no blips, hostile or otherwise, he wondered about the reason for the course switch.
In the meantime he noted that the fourth green blip, the Krushnei, had appeared on the system farside, outsystem from where another Newparran patroller raced toward the Saladin. The Kemal remained out from the Fordin and remained on a more direct in-system course.
Less than two standard hours since he had come on duty, and the Fordin had been attacked and had destroyed the attacker. After thinking a moment, he corrected himself. The Fordin had simply attacked and destroyed the unnamed Newparran patroller which had tried, unsuccessfully, to stop the Imperial quarantine.
He pulled at his chin. Even before contact, the two ships had been poised to destroy each other.
As he wrestled with the implications, he continued to watch the representational screens, to listen to the comm bands and to wait as the Fordin began to slow in her approach to the nearer satellite.
"Pleutfiere, Empire sur transit Gyros ..."
"New Jerusalem, Faust has struck. Michael has been cast down. .EDI tracks indicate course shift ..."
"Trahison! Couvrey des plaques! Comprennez? Des plaques de Janus et de Gyros ..."
"... norstada nil . . . premiere , . . Gyros ..."
"Cadet Gerswin, Chief Alvera. Specs for maximum surface damage on Gyros, centered on the landing traps and the linear accelerator."
"Stet," answered Alvera.
Gerswin said nothing. He looked sideways at the tech, whose movements were slower now, not quick or jerky.
"Hellbumer?"
"Not much else. Not enough sealing power in a tachead. Probably take an above surface burst, about five kays. Maybe two. Depends on terrain and separation."
Gerswin opened his mouth to ask why, but remembered his earlier conversation with the major and shut his mouth without saying a word.
"Good thought, Cadet," murmured Alvera in a voice low enough not to be heard beyond their consoles. "Good thought."
Gerswin sighed silently and began to run the problem off on his own console. As he finished, he saw Alvera was waiting.
"Let's compare."
Gerswin shrugged and studied Alvera's solution. Both had recommended two mid-class burners with a five kay separation and a three kay burst height.
"Looks about the same," he commented to Alvera.
'"About identical." Alvera raised his head and touched the transmit stud.
"Cadet Gerswin, do you concur?"
"My solution is identical to the chief's. Major."
"Do you concur?" There was an edge to the velvet voice.
"Yes, ser."
Gerswin and Alvera sat side by side, neither looking at the other nor talking, but silently viewing the screens and the symbols as they changed.
Gerswin listened to the intermittent transmissions whispering from the comm link, like ghosts about to flee at morning light.
The Fordin shuddered faintly, once, twice.
"Burners away."
This time the representational screen showed nothing, nothing except the number two followed by a single symbol, both next to the disc labeled "Gyros."
Gerswin shifted his weight, beginning to feel stiff after nearly three hours hunched before a single console.
"Cadet Gerswin, prepare the specs for a similar interdiction pattern for Janus. Key seven for background. Chief Alvera will verify before you transmit."
"Yes, ser."
Another set of hellbumers? For what? Another dome and burrow mining and heavy industry settlement on an isolated satellite? For perhaps five thousand, ten thousand people?
Despite his deliberate pace, the equations were easy. Three hellbumers-there were two lines of steep hills separating the landing traps, the accelerator, and the comm complex-at a height of one point five kays.
Alvera nodded.
Gerswin transmitted.
"Do you concur. Chief Alvera?"
"Yes, ser."
Gerswin listened as he waited for the Fordin to complete her creeping approach to Janus, or for his watch to end. But the comm bands were less active now, only a distant garbled whisper or so.
". .. got ..." Michael . . . out Gyros . . ."
"... field . . . trahit . . . Demetros ..."
The blinking of a green blip caught his attention, and he concentrated on the representational screen. The blinking green was the Saladin. Had been the Saladin, Gerswin realized as the light flared red and white and vanished, to be replaced with a subscripted line at the bottom of the screen.
"Major said this one would be nasty," muttered Alvera.
Gerswin did not even shake his head. He didn't pretend to understand. If the Christers had control of most of the ships and the government, why were they attacking Imperial quarantine vessels? And why was the captain searing the launch and port facilities on Janus and Gyros when they belonged to the Istvennists, who weren't attacking the Empire?
The Fordin shivered three times, so slightly that Gerswin doubted whether anyone else noticed, wrapped as they were in their own concerns and the interest in the fate of the Saladin.
"Burners away."
He checked the time. Not too long before Lieutenant G'Maine^as due to relieve him.
The course line on the screen changed again, showing the Fordin returning toward the original in-system destination.
Gerswin noted that the red dot that had totaled the Saladin was still headed out the system jump corridor toward the incoming Krushnei.
Given the lag times, they might not know the results of that confrontation until he was back on watch. He shook his head. In-system maneuvering time took so much longer than the between-system jumps.
"Cadet Gerswin, ready for relief?"
G'Maine's hearty voice startled Gerswin. He hadn't expected so burly an individual could move so quietly, or, perhaps, he had not been so aware as he should have been. Perhaps his skills were slipping in the confined ship environment. He'd have to work on that.
"Ready for relief, ser."
Gerswin stood and vacated the console.
"You stand relieved. Cadet." G'Maine smiled. "From what I've heard, you had quite an indoctrination."
"Yes, ser." Gerswin nodded. "Also told me how much I don't know."
"Good healthy attitude. See you in four." G'Maine swiveled into position to study the console and the screens.
"Cadet Gerswin?" The voice was the major's.
"Yes, ser."
"Would you join me? I'm on my way to the Mess. No seating arrangements during alerts, and I'd like to go over your performance."
Gerswin wondered what he'd done that merited evaluation. Some of his skepticism must have been communicated to the major.
"Mister Gerswin," she commented in the antique form of address, "you did well, much better than anyone would have expected. Mathematically, your last solution was better than mine or the chief's." Her eyes raked over him, and despite the fact that he was a shade taller than she was, he felt momentarily as though she were looking down at him.
"Let's go. I'm starved."
Gerswin matched her quick, short steps.
The Mess, predictably, was half full. The major piled her tray high and launched herself toward an empty square table at one side of the narrow dining area. She left the other side for him.
"Sit down. You like me fruits and vegetables, I see."
Gerswin nodded and pulled his chair into place.
The major took three large mouthfuls of a mixed cheese and meat dish that looked like synthleather covered with glue. Gerswin had avoided it for his fruits, vegetables, and a thin slice of meat that hadn't seemed to smell too artificial.
He sipped at a glass of water, ignoring the metallic tang that was unnoticeable to anyone else.
Tammilan walked in, smiling, between two junior navigators, both lieutenants, saw Gerswin, and grinned. Both eyebrows went up, and she shook her head in mock-disapproval.
In spite of his glumness, Gerswin returned the smile.
"Friend?"
"Roommate. In name only."
"You seem down."
"Private thoughts?" asked Gerswin.
"All right. Provided it's nothing illegal, or that I would be forced to enter on your record."
"Nothing like that." Gerswin shook his head. "No. I just don't understand. From all the backgrounders, the comm freqs, everything I can pick up, the Newparran Christers control the ships, or most of them, and most of the government. But they're the ones sending patrollers to blast the quarantine squadron. Then we sear off two moons to seal off the Istvennists, who haven't threatened us. There must be a reason, but I can't figure what."
The major packed in another three mouthfuls before answering. While she was solid, she didn't seem overweight, and he couldn't believe how she kept that way with her food intake.
"Gerswin, what do you know about the Christers? Or the Istvennists? Or Newparra?"
"Not much beyond the background and the comparative religions course at the Academy. Christers are fundamentalist believers in a single god. Istvennists believe in their own god above all others, but within a context of total personal religious freedom."
"Carry those trends to their logical extreme, and think about it. That would explain the way the Empire has had to act." She drained half a glass of a purple punch in a single gulp. "Christers believe they are the only true believers of the only true God. They are fanatical achievers in anything and everything, and they usually end up in disproportionate numbers in government and business. Both their government and their businesses are honest, but cruelly so, and without' much compassion. Less than twenty percent of Newparra is Christer, but they control the government. They passed a law to require religious prayers in all institutions of learning and another law to forbid voluntary euthanasia-in which the Istvennists deeply believe as a matter of personal choice. Then they blocked genetic improvements as unnatural, despite the fact that the majority of Istvennists come from a weak genetic background.
"I won't go into a more detailed blow by blow, because I don't know all the details, but the upshot was that the Istvennists called for elections to throw the Christers out of government, and the Christers refused to leave and seized the government and control of the major weapons systems of the small military. The Christers saw it coming and managed to smuggle in some high tech equipment before the Empire quarantined the system, and Christers from all over the Galaxy are dying to get help to their brethren here.
"The Christers can't win over the long run without outside help because the numbers are against them. The Istvennists claim they should have outside aid to shorten the inevitable result and reduce the loss of life, and, besides, the Christers cheated on the quarantine."
"Imperial policy is simple. This is a local system matter and will stay that way. You have a revolt, and the locals have to settle it themselves. Our job is to make sure no one leaves the system, and no one enters, except on an Imperial warship. Period. When a government emerges that .has total local control, we leave."
"That why the captain sealed off the moons?"
"She didn't have much choice, especially once the Christers blew the Saladin. Not enough ships to cover the system, and it would take too long to get back and forth between the outer and inner planets."
"But what happens if they fight forever?"
"Has happened before," mumbled the major as she finished another huge mouthful. "Will happen again. But local problems have to stay local, and local killings have to stay localized. If the people of a system can't get along together, then why should we let them spread the disagreements?"
