Zero Sum - Joseph P. Martino.doc

Zero Sum

By Joseph P Martino

* * * *

Commander Arnold Johnson clutched at the console in front of him. The ship lurched, and his pencil rolled across the console’s desk top and dropped to the floor. Evidently the Pilot had dodged a Khorilani missile, and the artificial gravity hadn’t quite been able to compensate for the maneuver. As he reached down to recover his pencil, the lights dimmed briefly. That one must have burst pretty close, he thought, close enough to draw power from the defensive screens. His ears told him that the ship was still maneuvering violently. The artificial gravity compensation was never completely perfect, and when the ship made vigorous enough maneuvers, his inner ears let him know about it.

He took a look at the hologram tank in his console. The crosshairs still jittered about the white dot that was the enemy ship they were engaging. Evidently the Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant Cheng, still had some missiles on the way, and was still trying for a hit. Then the enemy ship slid toward the edge of the display and disappeared.

Lieutenant Cheng’s voice came over the intercom. “This is Gunnery. He got away. No score for either side.”

Another voice followed. “This is Damage Control. All compartments still airtight.”

And back to work, thought Johnson. He switched the Combat Display to show the disposition of the entire fleet. The hologram tank lit up to show a cloud of white dots, like two star clusters passing through each other. The one going “forward” in the tank was the 27th Destroyer Division of the Terran Space Navy. The other was a force of Monitors of the Khorilani fleet. The two forces had made one firing pass at each other, and would soon be out of range of each other’s missiles again.

Johnson quickly examined those ship-to-ship encounters still in progress. The dot representing one Terran ship blinked twice and vanished. The computer was calling his attention to an enemy victory. He tapped a button, to one side of the console. Immediately, a display lit up: FRIENDLY-21 SHIPS, ENEMY-19 SHIPS. The fight had started at 25 and 20. But the disparity in favor of the Terran fleet was not particularly comforting. The Khorilani ships were of a class known to Terrans as Monitors. No one knew what the Khorilani called them. The Terrans had no equivalent ships, just as the Khorilani had nothing equivalent to the Terrans’ Destroyer class. The enemy used Monitors much as the Terrans used Destroyers, but the ships were significantly different. Destroyers were light, fast, highly maneuverable. Monitors were slower, less maneuverable, and heavily armored. One hit on a Destroyer was sufficient to finish it. One hit on a Monitor would knock it out of the fight, but on the average, two out of three times a Monitor could take a hit and still withdraw from the battle area under its own power. Only one time in three did a hit on a Monitor stop it dead in space. So in sheer fighting and staying power, a Monitor was more than a match for a Destroyer. Only the higher speed and maneuverability of the Destroyer evened the balance. Even so, the two forces had started the battle with an uncomfortably even match.

The next question was whether the two fleets should engage in combat once more. The decision was really up to the Terran commander, since the Khorilani couldn’t catch him if he decided to run, nor escape him if he decided to fight. And Captain Likhatchov, Commander of the 27th Division, would soon be asking Johnson’s opinion as to the next move. Johnson, as Tactics Officer for the Division, was responsible for advising Likhatchov regarding the conduct of a battle. Although Likhatchov had the ultimate responsibility for making all decisions, it was almost unheard of for a Commander to overrule his Tactics Officer.

The Display, showed that the two forces had separated completely now. Johnson’s ship, the Arcturus, flagship of the Division, showed up more brilliantly than all the rest of the ships in the Display. He knew this enhancement was completely artificial, but it still gave him the uncomfortable feeling that the enemy knew which ship was his, and would concentrate on it. The two forces were regrouping. The Terran fleet was taking up its usual conical formation, with the apex toward the enemy. It provided effective interlocking fire for the entire Division, but once the battle was joined, the elaborate formations of both sides would soon dissolve into a series of one-on-one engagements. Each ship would fire a salvo of beam-rider guided missiles at its opponent, hoping to knock out the other ship before being destroyed itself.

The simplest maneuver during one of these engagements was to charge directly at the enemy ship. This made shooting easy, but also provided the enemy with an easy target. The next step in sophistication was to maneuver during the run at the enemy. This made the Gunnery Officer’s job harder, but also gave the enemy a poorer target. Best of all was to wait until the enemy was committed to the attack, launch one’s own missiles, then reverse course. If the enemy continued his attack, he became the pursuer. He had to drive straight into the missiles of the pursued ship. The pursuer might then be knocked out long before his own missiles reached the pursued. It was Johnson’s job not only to recommend whether there should be a fight, but to recommend the tactics by which it should be fought.

But first he had to determine what tactics the enemy was using. During the battle, he had been recording the enemy’s tactics on a pad of paper. He had kept up the count until his own ship came under attack. Somehow it became hard to concentrate on his job when his own ship was being fired upon. He often envied Likhatchov’s coolness under fire. The captain never seemed to show any sign of worry. He kept his attention on the overall actions of his Division, and left the fighting of his own ship up to the Gunnery Officer and the Pilot.

Johnson pulled the pad of paper towards himself. He made a quick count, and found that the Khorilani were using the same set of tactics they had been using consistently since the outbreak of the war. Of course, he could have asked the computer for a detailed analysis of their tactics. However, using the computer this way struck him as akin to using a micrometer to measure a sewer pipe. When he wanted a rough answer, he’d use a rough method to get it. After the battle was finished, he would get a complete, detailed analysis from the computer.

He checked the Combat Display again. His own force had completed its conical formation. The Khorilani force had nearly completed a globular formation. Evidently the Khorilani commander was expecting the Terrans to attack again. The globe was an excellent defensive formation, but nearly useless for an attack, since half the force would be out of range of the point of contact between the forces.

The Khorilani were using the mix of tactics he had expected them to use. The Terran force still had a slight numerical advantage, although not as large as before the first fight. Essentially, however, the situation was unchanged, and the analysis he had made at the outset should still be valid. He would recommend a second attack.

His decision was made just in time. Captain Likhatchov’s voice came over the intercom. “Johnson, this is Likhatchov. What do you recommend?”

“We’ve lost four ships to their one. That’s an even exchange; forty-eight men of ours for forty-eight of theirs. That really hasn’t changed the situation much. Tactically, we’re in about the same position now as we were before, relative to their strength. Slightly weaker, but not much. I recommend a second attack.”

“Very well. I’ll order an attack as soon as all the ships in the Division have checked in and are ready.”

The captain had no sooner signed off than Lieutenant Cheng’s voice came through. “Gunnery to Tactics. What do we do?”

“Just a minute,” Johnson replied. He opened a drawer in his console, and pulled out an octahedral die. He rolled it in his hand, then spun it across the desk top. It clattered against the front of the hologram tank, bounced back, and rattled to a stop. He counted the pips on the upturned face. Six. He copied the number on his pad of paper, then replaced the die in the drawer.

“Tactics to Gunnery. We’ll reverse course on him.”

“Fine. That’s the one I like. Too bad we can’t do it all the time.”

“Right. But if we tried, they’d soon outguess us.”

Choosing the proper tactic through a roll of a die, just before the battle, meant that there was no way for the enemy to outguess him, since there was no system, or logic, involved. Of course, he could have had the computer produce a random number for him, just as it could have analyzed the battle for him. But in his mind, that took all the sport out of it. Rolling dice was better. Somehow it was more fitting when risking one’s neck.

Suddenly Likhatchov’s voice came through the intercom again. Evidently he was using the All-Ships channel, though. “Division, this is Likhatchov. All ships begin the attack immediately. Maintain formation as long as possible. Good luck.”

Johnson turned his attention back to the Display. The enemy formation was complete, and waiting for the Terran force. There was no point in their moving toward the Destroyers, to close the distance more rapidly. Instead, they obtained a slight tactical advantage from standing still and letting the Terran force come after them. Undoubtedly the nearer ships had already launched some of their missiles, in an attempt to get in the first blow.

Then the cone was penetrating the globe, and the two formations dissolved. A series of Destroyer-versus-Monitor engagements was shaping up. Johnson started to keep score on the tactics used, as he focused the Display first on one engagement, then on another. Then he noted a Monitor apparently heading straight for the Arcturus. He checked with the computer, to verify the two course vectors. The answer came back positive. The Arcturus was under attack.

Johnson, of course, had no role to play in the engagement. His task, as with Likhatchov and the rest of the Division Staff on the flagship, was to watch over the entire battle. Nevertheless, his eyes kept stealing back towards the center of the Display, towards the Monitor that seemed to be coming directly at him.

Months ago, at the outbreak of the war, he had found he simply could not keep his attention away from an enemy vessel engaging his own ship. He would tell himself that his duties were elsewhere; he had a responsibility to the men in the other ships to keep track of the whole battle; he must not let the fact he was under fire distract him. Gradually, as the months wore on, he found it possible to push his own situation to the back of his mind, and give at least part of his attention to the overall battle. But it was never easy.

Again, he forced his attention away from his own ship, and focused the Display on another engagement which had just started. But thoughts of the other battle were driven from his mind as he felt, rather than heard, the thump through the deck-plates that indicated his own ship had launched a salvo of missiles.

He reached for the console, and switched the Display to a repeat of that seen by the Gunnery Officer. The Monitor showed in the center of the Display. A pair of crosshairs jittered about the enemy ship. A cluster of tiny dots indicated the Arcturus’s own missiles, on their way towards the enemy. The enemy missiles had not yet been picked up by the detectors, and weren’t shown. The jittering of the enemy ship resulted partly from its own maneuvering, partly from that of the Arcturus. Each ship was feeding to its own drive controls a signal consisting of carefully-chosen pure noise. The noise frequencies were selected to be those to which the other side’s missile controls were most sensitive. The hope was to introduce enough jitter into the other side’s missile controls to cause a miss.

Abruptly the enemy missiles appeared on the screen. Almost immediately, the image of the enemy ship started to decrease in size, and recede from the Arcturus. The Arcturus had reversed course. The enemy missiles were now forced into a tail-chase. The enemy ship was driving ahead into the Arcturus’s own missiles. The Arcturus could easily outrace the enemy ship. However, the enemy missiles would eventually catch up with it. Before that, it must kill the enemy ship, leaving the enemy missiles unguided. The first of the Arcturus’s missiles began to reach the enemy. Points of light blossomed and grew, then vanished. Johnson counted six bursts, then nothing. The first salvo of missiles had missed completely. The enemy ship continued to advance. He again felt a thump as another salvo was launched. Then the enemy missiles were upon them.

The lights flickered once, then again, as missiles burst close by, and power poured into the defensive screens. Johnson’s inner ears told him that the ship was undergoing violent maneuvers. The lights dimmed once more, and the ship lurched sickeningly. Johnson grabbed his pencil just before it rolled off the console, then clutched the chair-arms to steady himself. Then there was another shudder to the ship, almost too small to be perceptible.

A voice squawked over the intercom. “This is Damage Control. Compartments C-4 and C-5 holed, and all air in them lost. They’ve been sealed off. No one believed to be in them. All defensive screens remain intact.”

Then the voice of the Gunnery Officer came through the intercom. “Tactics, this is Gunnery. We have another salvo on the way. It should be there long before they can get another one near us. I propose to go in straight, no maneuvering. Any objections?”

Johnson thought rapidly, then punched some numbers into the computer. The answer came back immediately. The odds were about two to one that the Arcturus would survive the engagement. Johnson decided the chance was worth taking.

“Tactics to Gunnery. Go ahead, but be ready to break off and start evasive action if you miss. I don’t think we’ll have time for a third salvo.”

“Right. I agree,” Gunnery replied.

Johnson switched his Display back to the fleet disposition. He observed that the battle was almost over. Most of the Terran ships had passed through the Khorilani formation, and were regrouping. Several engagements were still in progress, however. Close examination showed no apparent shift in enemy tactics. He then switched back to the Gunnery Display. He saw that the Arcturus’s last salvo was reaching the enemy ship. Several missile-bursts blossomed near the enemy ship, then one seemed to blot it out.

“A hit! You got a hit!” Someone’s voice called over the intercom.

“Right,” Lieutenant Cheng’s voice came back, “but she’s still moving. She’s out of the fight, but she’s not dead. She’ll be back to fight again.”

But by then the Arcturus was drawing out of range. There was no chance to finish off the crippled ship. And Johnson had to face the question of whether the Destroyer Division should make another attack, or break off the action. Likhatchov was going to want some advice soon, on what to do next. Quickly he started the computer reading out its analysis of the battle. He had better not keep the captain waiting. The force size display showed: FRIENDLIES-18 SHIPS, ENEMY-18 SHIPS. Right away he didn’t like the looks of that, and the computer agreed with him. There was one chance in five that the outcome of a third engagement would be completely disastrous. He got his answers back just in time, as the intercom again blared.

“Johnson, this is Likhatchov. What do you recommend? Shall we attack again?”

“I recommend against it, Captain. They’ve got us matched ship for ship now. We’ve lost eighty-four men, they’ve lost ninety-six. That puts us ahead by the equivalent of one Destroyer crew. Let’s be satisfied with this victory, and not risk turning it into a defeat.”

“That makes sense. I’ll accept your recommendations.” There were some clicking noises, then the captain’s voice came on again. “All ships! Break contact, and reform for withdrawal!”

In the Combat Display, the white dots sorted themselves out and coalesced into two separate constellations again. The enemy might have wanted to avenge his defeat, but he had no chance of catching the faster Destroyer force, if it chose to withdraw. The two constellations reformed into tight globular clusters and separated from each other. After a long while the enemy force disappeared off the edge of the Display.

“All ships!” Captain Likhatchov’s voice boomed through the intercom. “Stand down from Battle Stations. Resume normal Watch rotation.” Then, after some more clicking noises, Likhatchov spoke directly to his own Staff. “Division Battle Staff. This is Likhatchov. Please report to my quarters as soon as you secure your battle stations. The ship’s Medical Officer will report to me also.”

Johnson had the computer run out for him all the detailed statistics Fleet Headquarters would want in his formal report on the battle. When he was satisfied the report was complete, he released it for automatic transmission to Headquarters. At last he turned off his console and locked it.

He reached Likhatchov’s quarters just as most of the Battle Staff were leaving.

“Go on in,” Lieutenant Cheng told him. “He had something different to say to everybody. We left when he finished with us.”

Captain Likhatchov was seated in one of the three chairs in the little compartment his rank entitled him to. “Hello, Arnie. Please sit down.” He pointed to a samovar on a small table. “Care for some tea? Or shall I have the kitchen send you up some coffee?”

“Tea is fine, thanks. I’ll help myself.”

He poured himself a cup, sat down, and waited. As far as he was concerned, it was the captain’s next move.

Captain Likhatchov picked up a message form and held it out towards Johnson. “We’ve got some new orders. There’s been another fleet action nearby. About two hours’ run from here, at top speed. There’s a damaged enemy ship there, presently being guarded by two Destroyers. In addition, one of our Cruisers is damaged, but is still reparable. Fleet Headquarters wants the enemy ship retrieved, so they can study it. In addition, of course, we want to recover our own Cruiser and patch it up again. So we’re to escort some tugs to the two locations, wait until they take the two ships in tow, and then escort them back to the nearest Fleet base.”

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