"All ships, this is the USS Michaelson. I intend placing my ship between the asteroid and those ships firing upon its surface. I say again, I am maneuvering to interpose myself between the asteroid and those ships firing upon its surface. Out."
General quarters sounded, the strident bongs of the alarm echoing through the compartments of the ship and bringing the Michaelson to the highest state of battle readiness. "General quarters, general quarters," the bosun on the bridge recited. "All hands to battle stations. Set airtight integrity condition Zebra." Those members of the crew still sleeping were shocked awake, grabbing uniforms and racing to their combat duty stations. The sounds of the ventilation fans changed as the ship automatically sealed off compartments and shifted to local air purifiers.
Paul pulled on the survival suit stowed near his seat, rapidly fastening the seals even as he scanned Combat to ensure all of his sailors were suiting up. The hatch to Combat cycled open and a last few operations specialists pulled themselves hastily inside, resealing the hatch in their wake, then launched themselves on direct routes across the compartment to their duty stations, depending on helping hands from their already strapped-in comrades to guide them. Senior Chief Imari swung her index finger from sailor to sailor, checking each one's presence and that they were in their survival suits, then gave Paul a quick thumbs up. Paul turned to look at Commander Garcia, who'd strapped himself into an observer's seat nearby. "Combat is manned and ready, sir."
Garcia nodded gruffly, his attention focused on the situation displays.
Paul took an instant to breath in deeply and calm his thoughts, then checked the Michaelson 's weapons status on his display. No change. We're not getting ready to fight. But we are getting ready to deal with anything else that might happen.
Maneuvering alerts sounded as the Michaelson 's thrusters fired, pushing the ship around to a new heading. Paul's body slammed against the straps as the acceleration forces jerked around everything inside the ship. He watched the projected course track which had sprung to life, seeing it for the series of compromises it was. Momentum and mass were the problem. Going too fast to get into position would make it impossible to stop in time and stay in position. Just how much slower to go was a matter of judgment. The captain's judgment. Paul knew that as the Michaelson came around the other ships would be quickly figuring out exactly where she was going and how fast she'd get there.
But what good blocking only one ship's fire would do…
A woman's voice came on the communications circuit, its light British accent sounding unnaturally calm under the circumstances. "All ships, this is HMS Lord Nelson. We are maneuvering as well. All ships are requested to remain clear of us."
Captain Hayes' demand came on the heels of the Nelson 's captain's announcement. "Where's the Nelson going, Combat?"
I don't know yet! Paul thought desperately. He knew the captain knew they needed to see the Nelson start moving to even guess on her course, but he also knew the captain didn't want to hear that now. "Working on it, sir," he replied.
But at that instant another message arrived on a secure communications circuit. "USS Michaelson, this is HMS Lord Nelson. We estimate you are placing yourselves between Gilgamesh and its targets. We will position ourselves to block the fire of Saladin. Is this agreeable? Over."
Hayes' response held the first note of joy Paul had detected this night. "Absolutely, Captain Vitali. Michaelson welcomes the actions of Lord Nelson. Over."
"Lord Nelson was never one to hesitate in the face of a need for action, Captain Hayes. The Royal Navy can scarcely do otherwise than live up to his reputation. Out."
"Thank God for the Brits," Garcia muttered.
The Michaelson 's maneuvering systems fired again, pitching the ship around and jerking her crew against their restraints. Paul shook his head and blinked to clear his vision, then looked back at his display. " Gilgamesh is maneuvering."
Garcia studied the display, then grunted. "He's trying to sidestep us. Captain, the Gilgamesh — "
"I've got it," Hayes replied, his voice cool now. "They're complicating our move to block their line of fire to the asteroid, but that's all." Thrusters fired again, augmented by the Michaelson 's main drive. Paul rolled with the forces pulling at him, grateful that he was experienced enough at space operations that his stomach could handle the erratic shifts and sudden returns to zero gravity.
Combat systems emitted several short, sharp cracking sounds to warn of shots from the Gilgamesh coming close to the Michaelson as the SASAL ship tried to keep pounding targets on the asteroid. The Gilgamesh 's energy weapons didn't make any actual sound as they blazed past too close for comfort through the vacuum of space, but system designers had realized that the fastest and most effective way of alerting a crew to incoming fire was to simply simulate sounds that might be made by such weapons if they could be heard. Paul, trying not to duck at the sounds, realized the idea worked very well indeed.
He checked the read-outs on his display and felt himself sweating. The shots had been far too close, less than five kilometers away, a distance the Michaelson covered in seconds at her current velocity. If those SASAL ships keep trying to shoot past us, they run a real risk of accidentally hitting us, even if it's only a graze on our hull. The thought brought a surge of anticipation. If they hit us, we can shoot back. That'll stop this. Caught up in the battle, Paul momentarily forgot his chances of dying in a battle with the SASAL ships. Then he remembered and felt the heaviness inside him again.
Another alarm sounded, the high-pitched squeal of the collision alarm. "Warning," the Michaelson 's maneuvering systems stated. "Current track will bring the ship inside asteroid approach limits. Closest point of approach on current track will be-"
The warning cut off abruptly, telling Paul that the captain had ordered it to be shut off. Despite all the activity, his mind conjured up a brief image of a court-martial in progress and a trial counsel pointing to a diagram with a point labeled "Captain shuts off maneuvering system warning." No. We're not going to hit it. We're just getting too damned close for comfort. That's all.
Another set of symbols and a probability cone sprang onto Paul's display. The Nelson was moving. "Captain, this is Combat. Confirm the Brits are underway and heading to get between the Saladin and the asteroid."
The captain's response was once again drowned out, this time by another incoming transmission. "All ships, this is the Alsace. We are maneuvering. Request all ships remain clear." Then, on the heels of that announcement. "This is the Heavenly Mountain. We are maneuvering."
Paul felt his guts tightening. All those ships swinging close by each other and close to the giant menace of the asteroid. Which way were the Franco-Germans and the Northern Chinese heading? Out away from the mess or -
The collision alarm stuttered into life and Michaelson 's warning systems spoke again. "Warning. Multiple ships maneuvering along projected course close to current position. Unable to calculate closest points of approach-"
The alarm and warning shut off, doubtless again in response to orders from the captain. Paul didn't blame him. He felt a sort of stunned fascination as he gazed at the maneuvering display, watching the overlapping course projections cluttering nearby space, the firing tracks from the SASAL ships, the looming presence of the asteroid, and the assessments of what was happening on the asteroid's surface. What a goat rope. What a gawdawful goat rope. This can't get any -
"Watch the Smith!" someone yelled. Paul half-turned to snarl at the offender for yelling, then halted, his eyes back on the wreck of the freighter. Against the much faster moving actions of the warships, the freighter's slow, staggering path had been easy to overlook. But its venting gases had carried the wreck further down toward the asteroid and not far enough to the side. The Jedidiah Smith was fairly large as human spacecraft went, but its mass was nothing more than roadkill in the path of the asteroid's majestic tumble. Paul watched, horrified, as the freighter fell slowly down to meet the equally gradual movement of the millions of tons of asteroid, until the freighter merged with the rock for a moment before breaking into scores of fragments hurled outward from the point of collision.