Frozen Soul, and other works: Chapter 198

(Flag Bridge, BSN Ama-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, Coldana System)

“Admiral, all ships report changes to the torpedoes are complete. Pandora’s Box, Tribune, and Wolfsbane have all launched their bomber squadrons, additional fighters ready to launch on your command. Sixty seconds to Point Omega.”

I nodded as the aide reported on the readiness of the fleet. Fire Plan Beta was ambitious, but it would allow the fleet to get as much ordinance on the Harvester simultaneously as possible. Since we knew that individual impacts weren’t going to be enough to destroy the Harvester, it was important to use what we had in the most effective way possible. We were likely only going to get one clear shot before the X’thari realized what we were doing, and moved their ships to intercept, like they had done with Firebringer.

“All ships to commence Fire Plan Beta upon reaching Point Omega. Computer controls for the firing run. Send word to the combined fleet, warning them of the psychic scream incoming when we are at Point Omega. Give them a thirty second clock.”

“Aye sir.”

I took a breath, and strapped in to my crash chair. I preferred standing by the consoles during battle, to get a better feel for the situation as a whole, but the last time the Harvester had been wounded, it had apparently sent a psychic scream that had stunned the entire system momentarily. Somehow, I didn’t think that it would be less ‘vocal’ when it was getting killed.

Each Wrath-class battleship had ten torpedo launchers as a broadside. The Reaper-class were refitted with four torpedo launchers on their broadsides, changing out the original ship-killer missiles for smaller missiles, designed for taking on fighters as doctrine developed. The Knight-class destroyers had been designed with four torpedo launchers, two each fore and aft. Each of the Assassins had a single torpedo launcher, fore and aft, as they were expected to deal with fighters and small craft more than ships of the line unless they were using their primary weapons for stealth attacks. Three squadrons of Dragon bombers of twelve craft each launched from the carriers, each bomber carrying two torpedoes.

Point Omega was located exactly a light-hour from the Harvester, at our current elevation below the ecliptic. By the time the Harvester, or whatever was left of it, would register the light of our attack, the information would be an hour old. This was normally far past the range forces could engage each other, unless they were content to waste ammunition herding their foes into pre-designed snares. The only exception, prior to this battle, was with ballistic weapons, striking unmoving targets before they even knew they were under attack.

A light-hour was no different from a light-second for FTL weaponry. The only concern was in making sure that there was nothing solid in the line of fire. The Starbolts were indiscriminate. The first solid mass they hit, whether it was a moon or a single-person fighter, would unleash such an explosion of energy that the torpedo itself would be destroyed, unlike the ballistic weapons which could continue on through some targets, damaging ships and structures behind them.

That was the main reason we had come out so far below the ecliptic, to ensure that we would have the fewest possible number of ships to try and fire past. It was also why the ‘strike division’ of the combined fleet attacked so far out from the Harvester, drawing the defenders away, if only a little. It was all for the purpose of clearing the path for this shot.

As the ships reached their assigned positions for Firing Plan Beta, the computers took over, guiding them into the proper alignment for when they reached Point Omega. When they crossed that imaginary line in space, the computers reacted instantly, launching one hundred and fifty Starbolt torpedoes in unison. Thirty seconds later, another hundred and fifty launched. Thirty seconds after that, one hundred and fourteen torpedoes rushed into space, the bombers having shot themselves dry. Finally, two minutes after the first torpedoes launched, the final hundred and fourteen torpedoes launched as the firing plan finished, releasing controls back to their flesh and blood controllers.

Five hundred and twenty-eight Starbolt torpedoes flew though the infinite void of space, many times faster than the speed of light. But not all of the torpedoes were going at the same pace. This was not due to a malfunction in the control software, but a deliberate act. The torpedoes fired in the first salvo were the slowest, and had a run time of precisely two minutes longer than the last torpedoes to be fired. In this way, five hundred and twenty-eight Starbolts fired from one hundred and fourteen launchers and thirty-six bombers arrived within microseconds of each other.

It was a science fiction adaptation of a tactic that had originally been devised and put into practice in the sands of North Africa as the British Army faced their enemies. Time on target attacks were simply artillery barrages firing at the same time at the same target, so that all the rounds landed at the same moment. One moment, the desert would be quiet, and the next the entire world fell upon the unsuspecting enemy.

As technology improved, the doctrine became known as Multiple Round Simultaneous Impact. Each gun would fire multiple rounds at different barrel elevations, lowering the elevation each time. This meant that the first shots flew in the highest arc, taking the longest time to reach the point of impact, but arrived at the same time as the fourth shot. In the true spirit of military forces throughout history, the acronym MRSI became known as “Mercy”, for the poor bastards at the receiving end at least got the mercy of never knowing what hit them.

Barrel elevations weren’t possible with the torpedo launchers, and wouldn’t have had any effect to begin with in the void of space. But it was possible, if you had the computing resources, to change the flight speed of the torpedoes. The math required to determine what speed the first salvo needed to be traveling to arrive at the same time as the fourth salvo launched two minutes later traveling at 500c made my head hurt. Relatavistic calculus was never my strong suit.

The computers gave us a 67% chance of destroying the Harvester outright with this firing plan. They didn’t have any projections for what the probable scream would do, or how it would affect people. I had time to consider what the scream would be like, in the adrenaline-fueled time dilation as I anticipated the result of our attack. Even at five hundred times the speed of light, the torpedoes still took a little over seven seconds to reach the Harvester. Seven point two seconds of frenzied anticipation, as we waited to see the results of our attack.

Seven point two seconds after the final salvo of Firing Plan Beta was launched, I, and every other living creature in the system, heard it. A scream of primal pain and fear, so powerful that I felt like I was going to be slammed through the bulkhead! Words could not begin to describe the impact of the scream. The best I could do would be to quote an old movie, it was ‘as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced’. That does not do it justice, however.

“Oh, god, my head!”

I couldn’t help but agree with the voice, whoever’s it was. It took me a moment to realize that it was my own. My head felt as though it had been run over by a dreadnought, and then set on fire for good measure. It was, by far, the worst experience I have ever had in this game world, even including that incident with the Vrok on Dimiya’s moon, where I didn’t realize her saliva contained a nerve toxin. That was actually my second death in the game, outside the Arena.

As my eyes stopped trying to focus on six different things and settled down on only one, I shook my head slowly, to try and gather my thoughts. Fortunately, there was one member of my command staff that I knew would be unaffected. “Raven, status report?”

The AI was ready with the report, and did her best not to make my headache any worse. “No damage to the fleet. The psychic scream did not affect nonliving material, as expected. Working with the other combined fleet units in the system, I have been able to analyze the effects of the scream. While it is impossible to replicate artificially, we now have readings on the energy wave, and proof that it does weaken as it travels over large distances. Forces in orbit of Coldana were disabled for approximately thirty seconds, while forces in the strike division began to recover after almost eighty-seven seconds. As expected, it is a Mental Psy effect, so Mental Psy resistance reduces the time one is affected. However, Mental Psy Affinity in a victim increases the time affected.

She paused, to see if I was following, and then continued her report. “All X’thari forces were affected, on average, four times the length of other species. The deviation in these numbers could easily be accounted for by differences in Mental Psy Affinity or Resistance, as well as other factors, like existing battle damage.”

“Because the combined fleet had the preset commands issued, fleet computers continued attack and evasion patterns during the time the crew was incapacitated, resulting in a sharp uptick in X’thari ships disabled and destroyed. The swarm is effectively 76% combat effective, with the majority of that effective group being the escorts that the Starhunters have been leading around the outer system.”

I growled slightly. Raven was telling me things that I, as Admiral, needed to know. But, at that moment, it most certainly wasn’t what I wanted to know. Fixing my gaze on the AI’s android body, I said, “Quit dancing around the main event, Raven. What happened to the Harvester?”

The AI smirked at me, “Admiral, you have to know that an explosion of the magnitude we unleashed has caused a massive increase in the background radiation. That blinded the sensors temporarily. Getting a full picture of the situation under such conditions takes time.”

Oh, she was going to play it like that, huh? I narrowed my eyes as I glared at her. “Come on, Raven, you’re not expecting me to believe that your processors are too slow to work through the data to get a basic status update on the Harvester’s condition?”

Raven stuck her tongue out at me, before straightening up, and saying, “Nope, your taunts aren’t going to change anything. There really is too much radiation. Think of trying to get confirmation of a target’s destruction after a nuke goes off. Sure, any normal thing would get blasted by the nuke, and be destroyed, but you can’t confirm it until you can cut through the light, clouds, and radiation to see for yourself. Oh, by the way, a little under an hour from now you should probably keep from looking through the view screens without a heavy light filter in place. Apparently, it was like a second sun went off momentarily out there.”

I grunted, begrudgingly. As much as I wished otherwise, I couldn’t just snap my fingers and change the laws of the universe. “How long until we know more about the Harvester?”

Raven made a show of looking at her tablet, and said, “Approximately twenty seconds.”

I took a breath to calm myself, and kept my eyes locked on the viewscreen where the sensor reports were collating, resolving themselves into a picture. The haze caused by the radiation began to clear, and, at first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Sure, the computer models said it was possible, but no one really believed it, not really. I slumped back in my chair, the energy leaving me in shock at what I saw on the screen.

The Harvester had been completely wiped out of existence, with nothing remaining but trace elements in the rapidly expanding cloud of debris!

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