He watched the alien ship slowly turn towards the planet, then looked down at their own sensor images, the probes positioned to form the image of shapes on the landscape, dots of light that could be settlements, roads, mining operations. They’d even fired a few penetrometers to provide evidence of recent surface activity, as though mineral extraction was taking place on a large scale. Even knowing what he was looking at, Scott was almost convinced.
Would the alien take the bait, or had they overlooked something, a flaw in their screen? They were only picking up images from passive sensors placed on the far side of the comet, dug in deep enough that they should avoid detection, especially with the tectonic activity already taking place. The surface was sufficiently unstable to explain any sensor anomalies. He hoped.
“Energy spike from the alien ship,” Sullivan reported. For one so young, her cool demeanor was impressive, but she’d already faced their enemy once, had already tasted battle. She was a veteran now, and showed it. “I think they’re powering engines, Captain.”
“Track their course,” Rochford said, unnecessarily, earning himself a quick glare from Scott. His people knew their jobs. They knew what they had to do, without interference or micro-management.
“They’re on the move,” Sullivan said. “Wait one. Gathering course data.”
“Going pretty slowly,” Bouchard said, looking over his shoulder at the sensor plot. “They’re uncertain. We’ve done that much, at least.”
“Data coming in now,” Sullivan reported, a smile spreading across her face. She turned to Ivanov, and said, “Congratulations, Lieutenant. Best projections have them going into a low orbit over the planet, estimated arrival in ninety-two minutes. I’d say we’ve done what we had to do. They bought it.”
Scott waited for a moment, more to reassure himself, then said, “Secure to Condition Two, Commander. Can we manage a channel with Fleet Headquarters without attracting any attention?”
“I think so, sir,” Wilson replied. “Line of sight will take us well out of the enemy’s flight path, and we’re well shielded with the comet.” Turning from his station, he added, “Do you want us to open contact now, sir?”
“Do it, Lieutenant. I’ll take it in my quarters.” Rising from his chair, he said, “Ambassador, you might want to be in on this as well.”
“Certainly,” she replied, following him into his cramped office. He tugged a second chair around the desk to face the screen, then arranged the microphone pick-up to cover both of them. The display showed nothing but static, Wilson struggling to establish contact. Transmitting messages faster than the speed of light was a relatively recent discovery, working through the modulation of tachyons, one that could promise another method of interstellar travel in the distant future. For the present, though, simply sending a signal consumed most of the power of the antimatter reactor at the heart of the ship.
“Contact established, sir,” Wilson said. “Shall I add our reports and sensor data to the message?”
“Please do, Lieutenant. Fleet needs to know everything we do.” He reached for a control, and the familiar face of Admiral Singh appeared on the display. “Admiral, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“I hope you’ve got some good news to report, Captain,” she replied. “Where the hell are you?”
“We’re still alive, if that counts,” he said. “We managed to find a few survivors from Vanguard, and they’d found some interesting information left over by a hitherto undiscovered race. Including the details of part of a new wormhole network that could encompass ten times as many systems as our own. We’re not too far from Kapteyn’s Star, and we’ve managed to pull the alien ship after us. For the moment, we’ve got it decoyed, but that’s not going to keep.”
“Have you managed to damage it at all?” she asked.
“Not yet. Our best shot didn’t even scratch the damned thing, but we’ve completed some weapons modifications that Commander Garcia hopes will give us an edge in our next encounter. We’ve also prepared a little surprise for them. Right now, Leonidas is hiding in the shadow of an unstable comet, and we’ve managed to rig it to explode as soon as the alien gets close. There’s at least a chance that you’ll be wasting your time back there, Admiral.”
“I certainly hope so, Captain. I’d be more than happy to hear that you managed to deal with this threat before it gets deeper into Commonwealth territory. What are the chances of that?”
“I’m hopeful, but it’s a long shot. At the very least, we ought to be able to damage it, maybe slow it down.” He paused, then added, “All of our tactical and technical information is coming along with this message. You’ve got a lot more to work with than we do, so you might be able to make more out of it than we have. That’s the theory, anyway.”
Nodding, she replied, “I’ll get everyone we’ve got digging into it on the double. I’m afraid I haven’t got great news for you at present. We’re working around the clock to get the battle fleet back to strength, but we’re having trouble assembling crews. I had to graduate the second-year cadets to even give us a chance, and the instructors as well. We’re going to lose a hell of a lot of cadre if this goes wrong. We’re stripping every freighter, every transport, hell, every shuttle company to try and make up the numbers.”
“We’ll try and give you as much time as we can, Admiral, but I can’t promise anything more than a day or so. And that we’ll give that bastard the best shot we’ve got.”
“Ambassador,” Singh asked, “I suppose I need to ask…”
“In my judgment, Admiral, there is no realistic chance of coming to terms with this race. In our one communication with them, they described humanity as an infestation that had to be purged. I can’t see any common grounds for understanding, based on that. We already know that they have exterminated at least one intelligent race, and for whatever reason, humanity is next on the list. We made the attempt, and you can tell the Ministry that Captain Scott was extremely co-operative, but I’m afraid this is a fight to the death.”
“Thanks for that, Ambassador. I’ll pass the message along.” She paused, then said, “Mike, I hate to have to ask this, but…”
“If it comes to it, Admiral, I will ram this ship down the enemy’s throat if I get a chance. If that’s what it takes to bring it down, I’ll do it. And you aren’t asking. I and my crew are volunteering.”
“I had a feeling you would,” she said with a smile. “Let me know if the situation changes. Good luck. Fleet Headquarters out.” The screen went dead, and Scott turned to Bouchard with a smile, reaching under the desk for a bottle.
“Do you always keep a drink handy?” she asked.
“Hydration is important,” he replied. “It’s not alcoholic, if that helps.” He poured two glasses, pushing one over to her, and said, “Give it a try.”
She reached for her drink, taking a sip, and replied, “What the hell is that stuff?”
“Sarsaparilla. I’ve developed a bit of a taste for it over the years. Reminds me of when I was a kid.” He drained his glass in one, then poured himself another. “More?”
“No, no thank you,” she replied. Looking at the starfield, she asked, “What happens now?”
“That’s down to our friend out there. We’ve made our move. It’s his turn.”
“There must be something more we can do.”
Shaking his head, Scott replied, “Not a thing, I’m afraid. It’ll be the best part of an hour before the enemy ship reaches orbit. Much as it pains me to admit it, Ivanov did a pretty good job down there, but it won’t withstand close scrutiny. Even if it did, it wouldn’t take long for that ship to burn all trace of our theoretical colony from the surface.” He paused, grimaced, then said, “Feels wrong.”
“What does?”
“Using a planet as a decoy. Especially one like that. You realize that ball of rock crossed the intergalactic void? We ought to be landing research teams to comb it for data, setting up outposts for long-term exploration. Not throwing it in f
ront of the enemy like a clay pigeon.”
“Better that rock than Earth.”
“Maybe so,” he replied, taking another drink. He smiled, then said, “You aren’t the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nervous. This is always the worst part. Waiting. That’s what kills everyone. When you’re in the middle of a battle, you’re operating totally on instinct, and we go to a lot of trouble to make sure that those instincts are well trained. The adrenaline rushes through your system, and you know what you have to do. That’s easy. The hard part is waiting for it to happen.”
“You’ve been here before, though.”
Nodding, he replied, “More than once. Back at Van Maanan’s, we had a trap not unlike this one prepared for the enemy, but we had to wait for them to come. That was worse, in a way, because they knew precisely where we were. I was using this ship as bait, to lure them in. It worked, but it meant that we spent the better part of five days watching the enemy ship get larger and larger on the screen, closer every minute. My old Medical Officer was handing around relaxants like candy.”
“But it worked, right?”
“Like a charm. We blew those bastards out of the sky, and brought the war to a nice, satisfactory ending. That was different, though.” He took another drink, then said, “We knew we could win. That was the trick. Not each battle, of course. But the war. They didn’t have the resources to hold us off, not indefinitely. It might have taken longer. It could easily have taken months, maybe a couple of years, if we’d had to rebuild our fleet, but we had the industrial capability, and they didn’t.”
“Ever regretted winning the war so fast?” she asked. “We might have kept rather more of our military intact if we’d had to fight a serious campaign.”
“Not for a single second, not even now,” he replied, draining his glass and placing it down on the desk. “We saved lives. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of lives, and I’m not just talking about the military, though that’s far from unimportant. If my little raid had failed, we’d have been forced into a blockade. We’d have starved out those worlds, and that would have put an awful lot of civilians through hell, most of them completely innocent of any wrong-doing. Their leaders drove them to revolt. They didn’t really want to. That was perfectly clear when we landed the peacekeeping force.” Cracking a smile, he said, “I swear Last Hope gave us a better victory parade than New York did.”
“How do you cope?” she asked. “How do you make it look so damned easy?”
“That’s my job,” he replied. “Oh, the crew know better, but in the middle of a firefight, or when everything is at its worst, they need to know that their commanding officer is completely in charge of the situation. They need to feel it, anyway.” Gesturing at the door, he added, “Rochford or Garcia could do just as good a job at commanding this ship as I am, but neither quite has that sense of confidence nailed down. My people know what they’re doing. They don’t need me to tell them how to fight. I just have to point them in the right direction.”
“You’re good at it,” she said. “When this is all over…”
“No.”
“What?”
“You were about to suggest a political career, and I already had to wriggle out of that nightmare once. I’m not risking it again. If there was no other choice, I might accept a promotion to flag rank, but I’m honestly happiest where I am. On the bridge of a starship. Though I’d probably be even happier with a nice, simple deep space patrol.”
“Maybe you’ll get the chance when this is over. I can’t see the Senate disbanding the battle fleet again, not any time soon.”
“Don’t you believe it. We’ve got an election coming up, and military cutbacks always work well with the voters if they think it’s going to mean tax cuts. I spent long enough beating my head against that particular brick wall to tell you that.” He paused, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Let’s just hope we’re all around to have that argument next month.”
“Do you think we will?”
“We’ve got a chance. The Fleet has a better one. If you want numbers, though, you’ll need to consult a fortune teller. We’ll win or we won’t. We’ll live or we’ll die. It’s as simple as that.”
“Great,” she said. “Just great.”
Smiling, he added, “Sometimes it’s better to be a little fatalistic. I knew going in that there was a decent chance we wouldn’t be coming back. As long as we complete the mission, that’s not a problem. In fact…”
“Captain,” the overhead speaker said, “Could you come up to the bridge? We just had another eruption on the surface, the most violent one so far.”
“Has it damaged the charges?”
“No, sir, but it’s altered the comet’s rotation. Unless something changes, we’re going to be detected in less than ten minutes.”
Looking at Bouchard, he said, “It never just rains, does it. I’m on my way, Commander. Take us back to Condition One. I hope everyone had a chance to get a cup of coffee. It might be their last for a while.”
“Or forever,” Bouchard replied.
“Given the sludge the fabricators put out, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. After you.”
Chapter 14
Novak looked up at the sensor plot, unable to hold back the horror she was feeling from her expression. Not only would the alien ship soon have Leonidas in their sights, they’d have a far harder time luring them into range of the explosion. On the current trajectory, they couldn’t even run for either of the wormholes, not without being intercepted and destroyed.
She looked around the shuttle, the crew dejected, defeated, and she couldn’t blame them. After all of their hopes and expectations, they were hurting. So was she. Regardless, though, she was still in command. There had to be another option, and as she looked at the rear of the cabin, she found it.
“We’ve got two spare charges back there,” she said, looking at Patel.
Nodding, he replied, “That design can give us a few problems at times. It seemed better to have more than we needed on hand.”
“Put them in the airlock, and set it to double-pressure,” she said.
Frowning, he said, “Lieutenant, there’s no danger of them exploding without going through the proper arming sequence, and if you’re really concerned, I can simply throw them out of the airlock. We don’t have to risk overpressure.”
“Yes, we do,” she replied. “Make it happen, Chief.” Turning to Cunningham, she said, “You’re a pretty hot pilot, right, Ensign?”
“Best in the system, ma’am.”
“Want to prove it?”
A smile broke across his face, and he replied, “Any time, any place, ma’am.”
“Plot an intercept course with the enemy ship. We’re going to try a bombing run.” Before any of the others could protest, she added, “We’re running out of options, people. I don’t actually think for a moment that our charges will do any more damage to that ship than our unmodified maser cannons did, but we’ve got to draw them into position, give Leonidas a chance to place it shot on target and lure them into the trap. We can’t do that sitting here on this rock, and if we just sit here, they’ll pick us up anyway.”
“Heading right for the enemy…,” Powers said.
“We’re dead either way, damn it, and if we’re going to go down, we’re going to go down fighting! Warm up the engines, Specialist. Full power to all systems. I want us to look like a damn Christmas tree when we take off. Ensign, how’s that course?”
“I can get us to within three miles, ma’am, and we’re got enough thruster fuel for me to play some interesting games with evasive maneuvers. No promises, but if I pull this off, we might be able to get out and back without being destroyed, and even have a nice reserve at the end of it.” Reaching for a series of switches over his head, he said, “Once I fire the thrusters, there’s no going back.”
“I’m aware of that, Ensign. Let’s get this ship on the move.”
“Ini
tiating launch sequence,” he replied, and the shuttle lurched into the sky, free of the surface, engines already burning at full power to throw it onto the intercept course that would take it to the enemy ship. A trajectory plot flashed onto the screen, followed by a series of warning lights, and as she watched, the alien altered course, turning back from its path towards the planet and heading directly for the comet.
“That did it,” Patel said. “They’re on intercept trajectory, and I’m picking up increased power heading to its weapons systems again. Firing range in six minutes. They’re really piling on the acceleration this time.” He looked down at his display, and added, “They’re not going to enter the projected range of our bomb, ma’am. Close, but not quite.”
“Ensign, trim your course to make sure they have the necessary encouragement,” she ordered.
“Aye, ma’am,” he said.
“Chief, I need you to work on the details of our bombing run. Can you arm the warheads remotely?”
“Not a problem.”
“We’ll open the airlock to launch them, you arm them, and we’ll see what happens. I want that ship nice and distracted.”
“Should we contact the ship, ma’am?” Powers asked. “We could line up a tight-beam from here.”
Shaking her head, Novak replied, “We’ll have to work on the assumption that they can work out what we’re doing, Specialist. I don’t want to risk signaling them. Better that they remain hidden for as long as possible.”
Left unspoken was the knowledge that by heading into the lion’s den themselves, they were giving Leonidas a far better chance to get away, should the attack fail. The shuttle had more than enough fuel to link up again, but they’d have to survive their encounter with the enemy first. Cunningham was a good pilot, a damned good pilot, but given the sheer firepower of the ship they were going up against, none of them could take their survival for granted.
“Closing on target,” Patel said. “We launch our payload five seconds before closest approach. There won’t be any way for them to dodge the impact. I’ve focused the charges for maximum destructive force. It’s a good five-kiloton burst, right down their damned throats. That ought to concentrate their mind a bit.” He paused, then added, “If we pull this off, Leonidas has a lot of these charges in storage, and enough bombers for a serious attack run.”
Battlespace (The Stars Aflame Book 1) Page 12
