On the other hand, if Sierra ignored the station, it would fire at them, and the weapons it had were designed to take down battleships, if needed.
Pascari was testing Clarke, making sure he was still up for what needed to be done.
“Sparrow, this is Clarke. I’m sending you the coordinates to a military station orbiting a mining world. I want you to target them with your laser before shooting, for thirty minutes. Hail them, let them know we’re opening fire, and tell them the exact time your kinetic round will strike. Acknowledge.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” came Captain Park’s response. “Targeting now.”
Clarke nodded, although Captain Park couldn’t see him. The station was immobile, so it wouldn’t be able to move out of Sparrow’s shot. The targeting laser would trigger their alarms, and it’d let whoever commanded the station know that Sierra wasn’t joking around. The message would let the station know when its crew should go into escape capsules to avoid dying senselessly.
It was all Clarke could do for them. If, for some reason, the station didn’t evacuate…it was out of his hands. But the prospect didn’t make him happy, nevertheless.
“You can’t avoid bloodying your hands forever, Clarke,” Pascari told him through a private line.
Maybe not, but when I do it, it’ll be because I absolutely have to, Clarke thought. Not because you want to kill of as many Tal-Kader’s men and women as you can to avenge Julia.
He kept that to himself. He studied the patrols’ routes across the system. He dismissed the ones too far away to take part in the upcoming day’s battle. He focused on the ones closer to Sierra, and the ones closer to Dione.
Most of them were no threat to the five destroyers, and no threat to their escorts by virtue of being protected by the destroyers’ superior range. But, not counting Vortex, there were two destroyers patrolling the main mercantile traffic routes in the inner system, surrounded by gunboats and other escorts.
We need to take them out before they have a chance to mount a defense, Clarke thought. Pascari was right, he couldn’t avoid keeping blood off of his hands forever.
He highlighted the two destroyers on the map and asked the computers to trace targeting solutions to the ships’ predicted routes. It was a hard shot to make, since not only was their current position five hours outdated, but Sierra had to aim their cannons at the spot where the two destroyers would be when the shots arrived, not in the spot they were right now. And, of course, the ships would know they were under fire well before that, and they’d take evasive maneuvers.
It was impossible. The computers declared they needed at least a hundred destroyers to cover a single patrol’s possible evasive actions.
Sierra lacked Mississippi’s hyperdrive advantage, so they’d have to play this fight by the books. Closer patrols first, focus on the destroyers when Clarke could actually hit them.
Falcon’s commander, Captain Rehman, sent Clarke a targeting solution to a gunboat group very close to Falcon’s effective kill range. “This patrol is four hours away from Falcon, Captain. I should set course to them and take them out before they become annoyances.”
Clarke faced mixed feelings. On one hand, it had been a Tal-Kader gunboat which crippled Beowulf and killed Julia and Antonov. A part of him he wasn’t proud of was eager to return the favor. On the other hand, there was no strategical advantage to taking out that patrol.
“Falcon, this is Clarke. Maintain your current route. Repeat, don’t break formation. Those gunboats are no threat to us. Have your escorts shoot a warning volley at them and hail them with a suggestion to stay away.”
Clarke knew Sentinel was racing at their heels. Time was of the essence, and Sierra couldn’t waste time hunting small game. Their mission objective was to reach Dione, extract Reiner, and get the hell out of Elus until they could reunite with Independent fleet and the EIF. Nothing else mattered.
Captain Rehman didn’t share Clarke’s big picture focus. “Hail them with a warning? We’re here to make war, not to beg and excuse our way to Dione!”
“Complaint noted, Falcon. Your orders are still the same,” Clarke said, hiding the annoyance in his voice. Strange how the most risk-averse of Sierra’s officers suddenly became bloodthirsty when faced with a defenseless foe. “Don’t worry, Falcon, you’ll enter combat soon enough.”
He opened a private line to Pascari. “Rehman’s been reading up on your combat philosophy.”
“Rehman is a coward. I want us to reach those destroyers already. There’s a difference, Clarke.”
“I suppose there is,” said Clarke. “It’s still going to be two days before we’re in range of them, though. Another two until we’re in Vortex range. You best get yourself comfortable in that seat.”
“I’ve waited a lifetime for this. I can wait a bit longer.”
AWARENESS OF SIERRA’S presence in the Star System spread like radial gravity waves, starting from the soon-to-be-destroyed communications satellites near Sierra and moving inwardly in Dione’s direction. Those satellites had time to take a good look at Sierra and send their reports to Elus’ garrison. Some of them reported to all patrols in the area.
Gunboats and their escorts became aware of Sierra and immediately took evasive maneuvers. Some of them bravely (but futilely) took potshots at Sierra that didn’t come even close to hitting due to the several hour delay between their line of sights.
A couple patrol ships came too close, prompted by Reiner-knew-what deliriums of heroism, and were dispatched by Sierra’s escorts, currently stationed at the formation’s flanks. A dozen escape capsules spread out of the patrol ships as their structure collapsed under the concentrated turret fire. Hopefully another patrol would come and rescue them once Sierra left their range.
Clarke watched this all go by as hours trickled by, eventually becoming an entire work cycle, which he spent at his chair, save for the slotted non-acceleration relief windows. He ate tasteless nutritional bars and drank lots of coffee to remain awake and focused.
The satellites exploded in silence, their tiny dots disappearing from his holo map without fanfare.
An after-the-action report showed the military station heroically firing their entire arsenal in Sierra’s direction (again, to no purpose) before issuing a full-personnel evacuation. Sparrow’s bombardment took the station out shortly thereafter.
The two destroyers’ patrols became aware of Sierra and changed course, headed either to Dione, or in rendezvous course with each other.
A lot of information reached Dione all at once. First, the planet’s own sensors caught sight of Sierra. Then, Clarke’s message arrived at the public network. Then, reports from the satellites on Sierra’s force and composition, followed by visual confirmation that those satellites had been destroyed. Then, reports from the farthest patrols, along with requests for orders. Reports from the military station, requests to rescue its escape capsules…
Clarke smiled. The Defense Fleet of his time had trained all officers and watchmen in how to parse and react to clutters of rapidly changing scenarios developing out of nowhere.
Let’s see if Tal-Kader gives its people the same amount of training.
From now on, combat would be fairer. Dione’s garrison was fully aware of Sierra’s presence and would take steps to defend itself. Clarke’s wouldn’t see their response for the following five hours. That time lag would slowly disappear as Sierra reduced the distance to the planet.