Mindscape: Book 2 of the New Frontiers Series by Jasper T. Scott

nodded. “Good…” Hopefully the Washington wouldn’t even need to open fire.
    “Target is maneuvering! Shots are going wide, sir,” Lieutenant Carver said from gunnery.
    Grekov scowled and glanced at the clock. Thirty seconds. “Maneuvering how? Adjusting trajectory or evasive?” he asked.
    “Evasive, sir.”
    That was bad news. “Do your best to anticipate and track our target. Lay down as much covering fire as you can.”
    “Aye, Captain.”
    Twenty seconds.
    “The missiles just shot past our fighter screen,” sensors called out. “Nineteen out of twenty-one targets remaining.”
    Definitely bad news.
    “Incoming transmission from the Liberty! ” the comms officer announced.
    “Patch it through,” Grekov said.
    “All ships open fire! Targets are maneuvering. Repeat, targets are maneuvering, do not wait for them to get any closer.”
    “Carver! Open fire!” Grekov bellowed.
    “Aye, sir!”
    The deck trembled with recoil from the destroyer’s hypervelocity cannons. Projectiles streaked out into the void in simulated golden streams. Missiles jetted along behind them on bright blue contrails. It would take a while for any of those weapons to reach their target, but at least they were on their way. Hopefully they’d have enough time to intercept.
    Wheels started spinning in Grekov’s brain, reminding him that math was one of the things his parents had engineered him for. There was an easy way to calculate the odds of interception.
    “How long before our target gets by us?” he asked.
    “Four minutes and seven seconds, sir,” the sensor officer reported.
    That wasn’t much time.
    Grekov used his neural connection to the ship to make some calculations. The result was that each shot they took had a 1 in 31,411 chance to hit. Doing a few more calculations he found the probability that they would intercept their target. It came out to less than 10%. Making a quick decision, Grekov said, “Helm, come about and present our port side to the target.”
    “Sir, most of our guns are forward facing, and adding maneuvers at this point will only make it harder for us to intercept the target.”
    “Just do it, Lieutenant.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    Commander Clark shot him a curious look. “What are you doing, sir?”
    “Do the math, Commander. We have less than a 10% chance to intercept our target. Once it enters effective laser range, our window of attack will be less than a twentieth of a second on approach, and another twentieth of a second as the missile flies past us. Even in the best case scenario, mechanical firing latencies will use up most of that time. Our laser-armed missiles will have the same problem. The ones carrying payloads may increase the odds by detonating in the targets’ path and creating a cloud of debris, but with the precise timing required for such a detonation, that is also unlikely to succeed. All of this means that we have at least a 50% chance to miss our target.
    “We are, however, conveniently situated directly in front of our target. The Washington has a cross-section of 120 meters by 60 meters with its broadside facing the target. That means we can position ourselves between the target and Earth like a shield, and we will have a 100% chance to intercept.”
    Clark looked horrified. “There won’t be time to evacuate the ship.”
    “No, Commander, there won’t. But take heart, there is still a chance to intercept the target before it reaches us.”
    “You Russians and your roulette!” Clark said, shaking his head. “How are we going to repel future attacks if we throw away the fleet? Imagine if all the other captains are thinking like you.”
    “Our enemy may not need to make any future attacks if we don’t repel this one, Commander.”
    “We are in position, Captain,” the helm reported.
    “Hold position there, Lieutenant, but keep us dead center of the target.”
    “Aye, Captain,” the officer at the helm reported.
    Silence fell on deck as the crew went about