Captain Hayes sounded very unhappy, making Paul glad he wasn't face to face with the captain at the moment. "No one else, yet?"
"No, sir. Yes, sir." Chief Imari had highlighted information on Paul's display. "The Middle Kingdom is charging up now, too."
Commander Garcia was suddenly there at Paul's elbow, glowering ferociously at the display. Unable to find anything wrong, he slammed a fist onto the nearest surface. "Captain, the Han Chinese don't like the South Asians at all. They can't be working with them. They must be charging up in response to seeing the SASAL ships doing it."
"Self-defense?" Hayes questioned.
"Yes, sir. Captain, recommend-"
"No." Hayes cut Garcia off before he could recommend that the Michaelson charge up her own weapons.
Garcia flushed, then switched his anger to Paul. "Run a tactical simulation of what'll happen if the SASALs and Russians open fire on us and the Europeans."
"Sir," Senior Chief Imari interposed. "We're all at dead stop relative to each other, fairly close together and all our positions known exactly. We don't have to run a sim to know what'd happen if those ships open fire on us right now, sir."
Garcia glared at Imari, but nodded sharply. Any "battle" would last for only seconds as the ships with powered-up weapons riddled those who'd refrained from the provocative act.
"Sir?" Paul looked toward Senior Chief Imari as she spoke. "Captain's activated Big Brother."
Paul nodded, staring back at his display. Normally, warships stayed very quiet, communicating only in very short bursts when absolutely necessary, in order to keep their locations uncertain. But that made no sense now. Big Brother was a fairly new system, one designed to fire hose as much information as possible from the Michaelson back to fleet headquarters. All internal and external communications, sensor readings, orders given and received, the status of equipment onboard. Whatever happened to the Michaelson, the records of the event would be known with certainty to those receiving the Big Brother transmission.
Garcia slammed his fist down again and pointed wordlessly. Paul followed the gesture, seeing indications springing to life on the display, indications that said some sort of combat using hand weapons was erupting on one end of the asteroid. The cops got spotted going in. Can they -
An alert sounded. "Alliance ship Gilgamesh is firing," the Michaelson 's combat systems computer announced with its unvarying calmness.
Heads all over Combat jerked to focus on the combat action symbology which had flashed onto display screens. Paul had the briefest moment of dread as he wondered if the SASAL ship had targeted the Michaelson. He'd barely had time to realize that the ships were so close that if the Michaelson had been shot at, the Gilgamesh 's blows would strike home at the same time as the combat systems warning sounded, before he saw the freighter which had been hijacked by the religious fanatics staggering under repeated blows from the SASAL weapons. They're targeting the Jedidiah Smith. Why?
Senior Chief Imari's voice sounded. "Bridge, this is Combat. Gilgamesh is targeting the bridge and engineering sections of the freighter."
Paul tore his eyes away from the display to shoot a quick nod and look of thanks across the compartment to the Senior Chief. I should've been focusing on that, too, instead of being shocked into just watching.
"Combat, this is the captain. That freighter should've been knocked out by the first volley. Why are they still shooting at it?"
"Unknown, Captain. Gilgamesh 's fire is shifting to other portions of the hull, now."
The answer came to Paul in a flash, perhaps because of his remembrance of Dresden earlier in the evening. "They're trying to kill everyone aboard."
Garcia and Imari both stared at Paul. Then Garcia flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Tell the captain."
"Sir, I'm just guessing-"
"Tell the captain!"
"Yes, sir. Bridge, this is Combat. Assess the Gilgamesh is attempting to kill everyone onboard the Smith." That should include at least some of the Smith 's crew as well as the people who'd been holding them hostage. Apparently the SASAL ship was willing to sacrifice the innocent crew members in order to ensure the hostage takers were eliminated.
The reply took a moment. "Thank you, Combat. Unfortunately, I think you're right."
The alert sounded again as the Michaelson 's combat systems made another announcement. "Alliance ship Saladin is firing."
Once again eyes jumped to the displays, watching the combat systems highlight the almost invisible particle beams and lasers leaping from the other warship, and trying to determine the targets.
"It's the asteroid," someone said.
Any sense of relief Paul felt at his own ship not being the target vanished as he watched damage markers pop up on structures located on the asteroid within line of sight of the Saladin. As the asteroid rotated beneath the other ship, new targets became available and were shattered by the barrage.
Paul felt his hands clenching uselessly, unable to think of anything he could do. By his side, Garcia was rigid with anger as he watched the destruction. We can't do anything. Captain Hayes must be feeling even worse than we are, if that's possible. Paul saw the enlisted sailors staring at him with confusion. Unaware of the orders restricting the ship from acting, they were wondering why the Michaelson wasn't doing something. And even now he couldn't tell them.
A speaker came to life. Paul instantly recognized Captain Hayes' voice, even as he realized he was listening to a message sent to the other ships. "South Asian Alliance Ships Gilgamesh and Saladin, this is the USS Michaelson. Cease fire immediately. Over."
Garcia's lips stretched into an ugly grin. "Good one. He didn't threaten them or threaten to do anything. He just told them to stop. The orders don't say we can't do that."
But the SASAL ships ignored the transmission, not replying and seemingly unworried by the presence of the Michaelson. The Gilgamesh had finally abandoned its death strikes at the helpless freighter and had joined in the bombardment of the asteroid. Paul watched more and more damage symbols appearing on settler structures, feeling sick inside. Involuntarily wrenching his eyes from the surface of the asteroid, Paul focused for a moment on the wreck of the Jedidiah Smith. Then he blinked and looked again. The wreck's moving. How can it be moving? The hits from the Gilgamesh couldn't have imparted enough momentum… Venting. "Bridge, this is Combat. The Jedidiah Smith is being pushed out of position by venting of gases and fuel."
There was a brief pause, then the captain's voice came again, the furious tone in contrast to his words. "Good catch. Where's it going?"
Paul frantically ran some extrapolations. "The wreck looks like it's falling off to starboard and down toward the asteroid surface. The trajectory is still shifting. Unable to tell if it'll clear the asteroid." He didn't bother saying what would happen if the wreck got in the way of the asteroid, let alone what that would do to anyone still miraculously surviving onboard the Smith and anyone on the asteroid's surface where the Smith impacted.
"That does it! There's one other thing we can do and we'll damn well do it. Combat, I want a course to put us between the Gilgamesh and the surface of that asteroid."
Paul hesitated, unsure what he'd heard, and listened as Garcia questioned the order. "Captain? Between the Gilgamesh and the asteroid?"
"Yes! We're going to block their line of fire. I may not be able to do anything else, but we can damn well do that! We'll see if those bastards are willing to shoot through us."
Senior Chief Imari signaled she was working the problem, so Paul just tried to keep track of what else was happening. Even if we can block the Gilgamesh, that still leaves the Saladin with a clear shot — The thought hadn't finished forming when he heard the captain broadcasting again, this time on the movement coordination frequency.