by David Weber
"And now, Commander," she said softly, "we wait." his... know how important it is," Surgeon Commander Lacey told is admiral firmly, "but these are very sick people, sir! Another two days---was He shrugged. "You'll just have to use the statements they've already made." "Very well. Thank you, Doctor." Han switched off the intercom and looked around the briefing room at the taut, angry faces. The battlegroup's CO'S attended via eom links to their command decks and looked, ff possible, even grimmer than her staff.
"Lieutenant Jorgensen," she said, "you've been correlating the survivors" statements.
What conclusions have you been able to reach?" "Everything they've said is consistent, Admiral," Irene Jorgensen twisted a lock of hair around an index finger, "and according to them, the pirate commander is an Arthur Ruyard. Our pre-war data base lists him as CO of the Kearsarge, a Frontier Fleet cruiser. Apparently he seized Siegfried by declaring support for the rebellion; once he controlled communications he dropped that pretense, and he's been raiding commercc urs, the Rim's, even the Orions'--comever since." "Oh my God!" Captain Janet MacInnes of the Eisenhower groaned. "Not the bloody tabbies, too!" "I'm afraid so, Captain," Jorgensen said, "but they've said nothing about it. I suspect they've chosen to take their losses and deal with the raiders on their own rather than provoking a possible incident because of the Khan's desire for neutrality." "All right," Hah brought the discussion quietly back to immediate problems. "What's your best force estimate, Lieutenant?" "Sir, they appear to have the heavy cruisers Kearsarge and Thunderer and the light cruisers Leipzig, Agano, and Phaeton. There are also five or six destroyers and a prewar squadron of system defense fighters operating from Siegfried III." "But Leipzig and Agano were destroyed in action against a Rim destroyer flotilla!" Alfred Onsbruck objected. "I saw copies of the Omega drones." "I don't doubt it," Captain Schwerin said.
"Lieutenant was he turned to the intelligence officer his--comI'll bet none of his ships are listed as current members of the Republican Navy, are they?" 'hey aren't, sir. Leipzig and Agano at one time were Republican units; none of the others were ever listed as having come over." "There you are," Stravos Kollentai said crisply. "Ruyard started with only his ship, then picked off the others from either the Rim or us--probably pretending to belong to the same side until he got close enough to spring the trap." He paused and rubbed his nose. "What bothers me is his crews. I hate to think he found that many potential pirates in uniform!" "He didn't," Jorgensen said. "Two of his first prizes were TFNS Justicar and Hamurabieonvict ships. According to our survivors, that's where the bulk of his personnel come from." "I see. And just who are these 'survivors," Lieutenant?" "There are seventeen, sir: seven men and ten women. The men worked in Siegfried's mining operations before the war, as did two of the women.
The others were aboard ships Ruyard's men captured. I understand--was Jorgensen's plain face twisted with distaste his--comt Ruyard intends to found a dynasty. He's been collecting women to "entertain" his crews, but the prettiest of them are earmarked for his "nobility."" A savage, inarticulate sound came from Han's officers.
"How did they escape?" Kollentai z.ked after a moment.
"I'he 'fleet" was out on a raid and they stole an ore shuttle in for repairs--it had a bad drive, but they preferred to take their chances. They made it through the warp point, but then their drive packed in. They drifted for over a month before activating their beacon." "That," Onsbruck said quietly, "took guts." "Indeed," Han agreed. "And thanks to them, we know one thing Irene hasn't mentioned yet. This Ruyard doesn't trust any of his prisoners aboard ship for any reason." "Now isn't that nice of him," Captain MacInnes said softly.
"I see your point, Admiral," Onsbruck said, "but even ff we can blast them without worrying about civilian casualties, we have to be in range to do it. And we've got a problem there." "Agreed." Han nodded with a tight smile.
"Commander Kollentai and Commander Tomanaga have given the mat- ter some thought, owever. Bob?" "Fhank you, sir." Tomanaga faced Onsbruck, even though he was adressing them all. "Essentially, our problem is that although our monitors outgun them by a factor of five, all of their ships are faster than we are." "Exactly, Commander. So how do you propose to make them stand still for us?" Onsbruck could have sounded scornful, but he didn't.
"Commander Kollentai thought of the answer, sir.
De- ception mode ECM. We'll come in openly, but what they'll see will be two battle-cruisers--da Silva and Eisenhower--and three destroyers-- Shokaku, Black Widow, and Termite. Even though the 'battle-cruisers" will out-mass anything they have, they won't expect any fighters and their total firepower will be far superior to what they believe we have." "And ff they send scouts out to check from dose range?" Schwerin asked.
"According to the escapees, this Ruyard sticks with what works. He closes with his entire force before he drops his mask because his victims are less likely to balk ff he gets in close, and, if they do, he's got the dose-range firepower to deal with them. The chance to add two "battle-cruisers" to his force should suck him right in where we want him." "But ff it doesn't?" Schwerin pressed.
"Then we'll just have to do our best, sir. Their fighters can't run; they're restricted to Siegfried III. As for the mobile units, long-range strikes from Shokaku should nail at least both heavies before they can warp out. That's better than nothing, sir." "But not enough." Han's voice drew all eyes back to her, and her face was as cold as her voice.
"We don't talk about it, ladies and gentlemen," she said, "but each of us--even those who only joined up after the mutinies--comis here because we believe it is our duty to protect our worlds and our people. That is the only acceptable reason for wearing the uniform we wear, and it is also something which, I hope and believe, we continue to share with the TFN." She looked at them. One or two looked a bit embarrassed--comespecially David Reznick but no one disagreed.
"The commanders of these ships have violated that purpose. They are mass murderers and rapists, but they are also outlaws against us. Against this." She touched the collar of her uniform. "Against our honor." She paused once more, and her eyes burned.
"No one no one.t--is entitled to do that. The law sets only one penalty for their actions, just'as there is only one penalty which can wipe away the dishonor they have brought to our uniform." She looked at her subordinates once more, seeing her own anger in their faces. Only Tomanaga seemed to fully understand the shame she felt, but all of them shared her "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the penalty we will enforce upon them," she finished grimly. She leaned back, her face once more calm, her voice once more serene. "It is my intention to enter Siegfried and attack within the next six hours.
Carry on, ladies and gentlemen." "There, sir," Tomanaga murmured as the enemy light codes crept onto the plot. "Still at extreme range, but they're closing.... his Han nodded, watching the light dots of the piratical cruisers drift slowly closer, the red bands of hostile ships flashing around them. She picked out both heavies and all three of the lights, accompanied by the white dots of four destroyers.
"Data base can't identify the heavies, sir," David Reznick reported. "They've been altered and refitted too much--looks like the missile armament must have been downgraded in favor of primaries, wherever they got them. But I've got good ID'S on the lights: Phaeton, Agano, and Leipzig. Two of the tincans are Pike and Bengal, but we don't know the others. Range is fifty light-seconds and closing." "Thank you, David. Try to raise them, please." "Aye, aye, sir." There was a brief silence in response to da Silva's hail, then the screen lit with the image of a thin-faced, scholarly-looking man who matched the data base pictures of Arthur Ruyard.
"I am Rear Admiral Li Ian, Terran Republican Navy, commanding Battlegroup Nineteen," Han told him. "And you are?" "Commodore Dennis Khulman, commanding the Twen- tieth Cruiser Squadron," the thin-faced man replied after the inevitable transmission lag, and Han's eyes did not even a flicker at the lie.
"What brings you out here, Commodore?" she asked with just the right trace of curios
ity.
"I was about to ask you that, sir." Ruyard-Khulman smiled. "We're on a standing patrol out of Klatzenberger by way of Tomaline, Admiral. And you?" "Out of Novaya Rodina via Jansen, Schulman, and Kariphos," Hah lied equally smoothly.
"We didn't expect to see Republican units out this way." "No, sir. We didn't either," Ruyard-Khulman agreed. "Well, I suppose we'd better rendezvous and exchange news, Commodore," Han said, watching the other ships creep closer on her plot.
"Of course, sir. But you'll pardon me ff I keep my shields up until we do?" Ruyard-Khulman allowed himself a deprecating shrug. "Can't be too careful out here, sir." "I certainly agree, Commodore," Han smiled, black mur- der in her heart.
"Thank you, sir. I make our rendezvous in approximately eighteen minutes at our present speeds. Is that acceptable?" "It is," Hah nodded. "I'll expect you for dinner, Commodore." "hank you, sir. I'm looking forward to it." Li Han cut the communication and smfied savagely at the blank screen.
"Fifteen light-seconds, sir," Reznick reported. "Very well. When we drop to twelve light-seconds, cut the ECM." "Cut the ECM, sir?" Reznick was startled into asking the question.
'hat's correct, Lieutenant," Han said calmly. She wanted Ruyard to know what he faced. She punched up Shokaku.
"Captain Onsbruck?" "Sir?" "Prepare to launch fighters when our ECM goes down." "Aye, aye, sir!" 'rhank you." Hah leaned back and watched the outlaw ships inch closer at their reduced speed. Even now Ruyard/khulman's pre-planned surrender demand would be ready, but her message would go out first.
The last message he would ever have, she thought coldly: the dropping of her deception the instant before she fired.
She remembered her cold-blooded destruction of the Swiftsure at Aklumar and recognized the similarity, yet the resemblance was only superficial. Swiftsure's people had been enemies, but they had been honorable foes, worthy of a far better end. These enemies were scum.
'lhirteen light-seconds, sir," Reznick reported softly. "Standing wasto disengage ECM.
Disengaging... now!" The battlegroup's ECM died, and the monitors and carrier stood revealed. Han watched the fighters spitting from Shokaku's catapults, but only with a corner of her eye. Her attention was on the dots of the enemy.
"Sir! Message from Kearsarge!" Reznick sounded star-tied. "They want to surrender, sir!" Ruyard was fast on his mental feet, Han thought grimly. He knew he couldn't outrun her missiles, so he wasn't even trying. He was banking on the fact that the Terran Navy--Federation or Republican--always gave quarter ff it was asked pounds rather. It might he another trap or simply other example o pounds his using the Navy's honor against itself. She watched the last of the fighters launch, and her face was bleak and cold.
"Captain Schwerin." "Yes, sir?" Schwerin responded, his voice neutral.
"Open fire, Captain," Rear Admiral Li Hah said softly.
WAR WARNING Leornak'zilshisdrow, Lord Sofald, Sixteenth Great Fang of the Khan, and District Governor of the Rehfrak Sector by proclamation of hirilolus, appeared on the Orion passenger liner's eom screen, and lan Trevayne looked for the first time at the being who had held his life in his hands thirty-one standard months before. Studying the tawny-furred, felinoid face, he noted admiringly that Leornak's whiskers were spectacular even by the standards of well-endowed Orion males. Rumor had it that the Orions approved of the current Terran fashion of growing beards; they felt it lent human faces a certain much-needed character.
Leornak smiled a fang-hidden carnivore's welcome and spoke, producing a seriedds of sounds suggesting cats copulating to bagpipe music, then paused. Like many high-rank-+ Orions, the governor understood Standard English well, btt the Orion vocal apparatus was poorly suited to produce human-like sounds. The problem was mutual, of course, which was one reason humans persisted in calling Orions "Orions." The thoroughly inaccurate label--assigned by ONI when Terrans first learned of the three-star-system, fourteen-warp-point nexus near the Great Nebula in Orion which was the heart of the Khanate was far easier to pronounce than Zheeerlilzou'vallhannaieee @u@u@uand even that was but a crude approximation of what the Orions called themselves.
Trevayne shook the inconsequential thoughts aside as 262 INSUPEAECTION the translator on Leornak's jeweled harness used his ship's sophisticated computers to produce pedantically exact English, complete to properly interpreting Leornak's formal tone and nuance.
"Welcome to Rehfrak, Admiral Trevayne. I am glad for the opportunity to meet you in person--although you will understand that the welcome must be entirely unofficial, l trust you are not in quite so much of a hurry as you were on your last visit?" Trevayne smiled back, careful to hide his own teeth as good manners demanded. As an Englishman, he could appreciate studied understatement.
"No, Governor, this time I'm not trying to make good an escape-wh I managed only as a result of your good offices. But, as you so rightly point out, these proceedings are unofficial--and, in my case at, least, clandestine. The sooner I can meet with my govement's representative, the better for all concerned." "Of course, Admiral. He has already arrived and is here aboard my flagship, Szolkir." With further exchanges of courtesies, arrangements were made for Trevayne to be picked up by one of Szolkir's cutters.
Trevayne watched Leornak's flagship gleam in the reflected orange light of the gas giant she orbited as the cutter approached her.
Like all Khanate officers with sufficient pull, Leornak flew his lights aboard one of the Itzarin- class assault carriers. The Orions and the Terran rebels were as one in the prestige they accorded strikefighters and the starships which carried them, he thought dryly. In fact, for all their noisy anti-amalgamation invective, the Fringe Worlders were a lot like the whisker-twisters in many ways. Some twentieth-century wit had observed that the really great hatreds are between peoples that are alike and can't stand to admit it. Apparently that held as true between species as between human groups.
Trevayne gazed at the lovely killing machine and smiled faintly. After the next battle, the Khanate, as well as the "Terran Republic," would have some reassessing to do. He watched the cutter dock, and his mind slid back in time to the day, almost exactly a standard month before, when his journey had truly begun....
Trevayne sat in a familiar conference room in Prescott City and looked around the table at the Grand Council of the Rim Provisional Government, which people were beginning to call the Rim Federation--though not in Trevayne's presence!
His Councilors were chosen by the Legislative ssem-bly from among its own members. Their function, in theory, was to advise the Governor-General; in practice, they governed the Rim when Trevayne was in deep space, which was often.
It was ali very novel to these Outworlders, but Trevayne had read enough history to know he'd set in motion a reenactment of the birth of parliamentary government in his native England seven centuries before. In fact, this was what cabinet government was supposed to be like, for there were no structured parties in the Rim. That, he thought glumly, would come later, along with organized voting blocs, mass-media electioneering, and the rest. And would the people of the Rim, having tasted home rule, be willing to give it up when (the word "if" did not even cross his mind) the Federation won the war?
He looked at each Councilor, and at one in particular. To some extent Miriam Ortega owed her rise to the memory of her father, but that was only a part of it--and, after the early days, a small part, overshadowed by her own intelligence and force of personality.
Her eyes met Trevayne's. They'll been lovers for over a year.
He looked away, sweeping the other Councilors with his gaze once more.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I've called this meeting to confirm the rumor: we've received, through the Orions, a reply to our message to the Federation!" He waited for the inevitable hubbub to die down.
The Rim's only warp connection with the Innerwodds (other than those in rebel-held space) was the very. circuitous one through the Khanate by which Trevayne's command had reached Zephrain.
; Afterwards, the Khan had dosed his frontiers to ahuman entrv. Even the raw materials purchased by the Innerworld traveled only in Orion hulls, and only after a long and frustrating period of indirect negotiation had the Orions agreed to carry one message for Trevayne and to bring back one reply.
"All the Orions will say," he resumed, "is that the Federation is sending a representative to Rehfrak, which is as far as they'll let him come, in one standard month. They'll allow me to go to him-- alone, secretly, in one of their own unarmed civilian craft. I'm frankly amazed that they're willing to violate their self-imposed neutrality even to that extent." "Do I understand, sir, that you intend to accept this, uh, invitation?" Barry, de Parma, chairman pro tern of the Grand Council, looked shocked at Trevayne's nod. "But the risk! You're indispensable.... his "The Orions," Miriam Ortega cut in, "favor the Federation. They're neutral only because they know overt help from them would give our side an "alstien" taint." She smiled wryly, knowing that much of the resentment felt by the rebelling Fringe Worlds was shared by the people of the Rim, including some in this room. The Corporate Worlds had been wrong to accuse the Fringers of "xenophobia," but there was no doubting the Outworlders' grim determination to remain independent of the Orions. She hid a sigh of impatience with her fellow Councilors, saying only, "Fhy have no motive for treachery." "Precisely," Trevayne agreed, "and as for my o.. classified knowledge," he added, knowing they all took his meaning, "I'm not a technician, and no hard information could be got out of me. Besides, we have no reason to think they know there's any to get." He changed the subject before any cautious souls like de Parma could spot the gaping holes in his rationalization.
