by Jay Allan
But there were no more, no more vessels of any kind. Four. There were only four ships…and the subsequent closing of the port emphasized that was the limit. Whether that was all the vessels the Regent had, or just its idea of a small scouting force, he didn’t know. But things were still manageable. There was still some chance he could take out the Regent…at least in his mind.
“Bridge…I want all systems quiet…as quiet as possible.” He didn’t know if the enemy had discovered him, or if the vessels launching were simply a probe, or another mission entirely. But he wasn’t going to take any chances. He wasn’t going to do anything that would make it easier to spot his ships.
* * *
“Sir…we have reached the rendezvous point…but we haven’t found anything.”
Captain Leigh heard the news, and though it was only what she’d expected, she still felt disappointment. Her vessel had suffered a minor problem, fortunately one that didn’t interfere with her stealth systems. But one that did cause her a delay. She had hoped the ships would still be at the meetup point, but she was far from certain they would be. She was over four hours late, and the other vessels should have met up and moved by now.
She tried to tell herself that the other ships had all been on time, that they had met up and proceeded on with the mission…but she knew that was purely a guess. Perhaps none of them were at the point because they had also suffered problems…though she did find it hard to believe that none of them had made it.
“Alright…keep up passive scans all around. Cut thrust and let’s coast awhile.” Her thrusters at five percent weren’t a huge risk of enemy scanner contact, but until she had decided what to do, she was going to do everything possible to stay hidden. She hadn’t given up on the other ships, not completely, not yet. Still, she’d thought it through enough to realize that she had to go on, even if her ship was the only one. It was just too important to destroy the Regent. She knew the battle at Earth-2 was crucial, too, but she realized, as she knew Harmon did, that it was every bit as important to take out the Regent. Their chance wasn’t good, perhaps, to say the least…but it was likely the best they’d get, whether their home system survived or not.
Our chance is especially bad if it’s just us…but it’s still the best we’re likely to get…
She put the thought out of her mind. She would wait, perhaps for an hour or two. It was still possible other ships might arrive.
“Captain…we’re picking up something on the planet!”
She spun around and focused on the screen. She saw part of the planet’s surface…and she could see movement. It was just where it was supposed to be, and the view removed the doubts she had fought before. This was the Regent’s homeworld…she was suddenly certain of it. She was surprised at how many doubts she had possessed, more than she’d imagined. But she was sure now…somehow.
Her eyes were fixed, and she saw the ships come out. One after the other…until four had emerged. Then there was nothing, for a moment at least. Then the hatch closed, leaving four ships blasting off from the surface.
She had no idea whether there were more vessels inside the base, or whether the four where the only ones present. In fact, she had no idea that the Regent was here…just that there was an enemy base. But she didn’t have any doubts anymore, at least not about the Regent. And she had a feeling, one she couldn’t even begin to support, that those four ships were alone.
That wasn’t definitive, of course, and it left her with another problem. If the other ships, at least a large number of them, were still out there, they could take on the four vessels, and probably come through with enough ships surviving to at least make a play for the Regent.
But if her ship was the only one to make it this close…four enemy vessels might as well be forty. Her only chance was to stay undetected, and hope the enemy ships traveled far enough from the planet. Far enough to allow her to gamble that the enemy had no more ships, that her vessel could avoid any targeting from fixed weapons…and that her single ship could somehow get down there and destroy the Regent.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Achilles stared at the screen, a massive display, one of the two largest present on Earth-2. The other one was located in Max Harmon’s offices, and Achilles had almost gone there to direct—which is mostly to say, to watch—the battle, but he had decided that he would remain in his own place, in the Mules’ HQ. That might cause some problems later, if the battle was won…but he would deal with it when it happened.
Deep down, he knew that even a victory could prove short-lived. The enemy knew where Earth-2 was, and that pretty much guaranteed a disastrous outcome. Unless Max Harmon’s crazy scheme actually worked, if he somehow took out the Regent, while Achilles’ forces managed to defend Earth-2.
Of course, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. For one thing, Admiral Compton had orders, too, and they required that he check—in two years—to see if Earth-2 had survived, and to make contact if it had. No one on the planet knew the exact location of any of the new colonies, and Achilles agreed completely with that. He wanted to believe he couldn’t be captured, and if he was, that he could resist any level of torment…but he knew that wasn’t true. Everyone could be broken, and the only difference was how much effort it would take. He knew if the enemy won the fight, and took some prisoners, they would find out the new colonies existed…but they couldn’t find out where they were. That would buy some time…but whether it would be enough for the colonies to grow to a size comparable to Earth-2, or more powerful, was a question not even the Mules could answer…at least not beyond a wild guess.
His eyes were fixed on the display, on the two large fleets that had just begun the battle. He understood Nicki Frette’s decision to meet the enemy back farther, closer to the range of Earth-2’s guns, but he wasn’t sure he agreed. It made all the tactical sense in the world…but it also let the enemy advance much of the way toward the planet before engaging them. It would give Frette’s forces their best chance, perhaps, but it also allowed the enemy to make a move on the planet, even while the battle still raged. She had prepared for that, instigated plans to intercept any enemy forces attempting to move against Earth-2…but he knew that was all just talk. If the enemy wanted to bombard the planet badly enough, if they were willing to cut their chances of winning the overall fight for an ability to bombard the surface…they had a very good chance of doing it, regardless of Frette’s best efforts.
A very good chance.
Still, he had remained silent. He just didn’t know what made sense, and while he knew Frette’s abilities were generally less than his own, he was willing to accept her viewpoint in her one area of undisputed expertise…naval tactics.
He watched as the fleet began the battle. He knew it was a desperate fight, a struggle on which almost everything relied…but he felt strangely detached. He wondered if he should have been on one of the ships, out with the fleet. He wanted to answer ‘yes,’ but he knew he’d made the right call. He was one of the two leaders—and the ultimate one, he realized, as he considered both Frette’s age and her status. He just couldn’t risk himself, at least not so overtly. He was in enough danger on Earth-2, and though it made him feel strange, he struggled to put the thought aside, to focus on the battle.
The fleets were engaged now, and the volume of fire between them was almost unbelievable. He knew he’d see any attempt by the enemy to branch off and attack Earth-2, along with the continuation of the battle, and any advantages that developed for either side. But at the moment, all he could see what that the fight had just begun…and he had nothing to do except sit.
And watch.
* * *
Frette sat in her chair, unmoving, stone cold. She had a reputation, several of them actually. All her spacers knew about her relationship with Admiral West, but they also knew that it had b
een more than thirty years since the two had actually spent any time together. For the past 20 of those, Frette had sat in her lover’s chair and commanded the fleet. If she was a bit less qualified than West, something she would be the first to acknowledge, she had been excellent, nevertheless. She had directed everything almost perfectly, and she had appeared in every way to be ready…for whatever happened. But she was also known for her unemotionality, for almost soulless functionality. For a nearly complete lack of…humanity.
She hadn’t been that in her younger days. She’d been pleasant, soft-spoken…and for the few who had known then about her and West, definitely the more open of the two. But years in a coma, coupled with her losses, had changed her. There were some who even wondered whether she wanted to survive, whether she would, regardless of the battle’s outcome. What only a very small number of people realized, though, was that she would have ended her suffering years ago, that nothing but the command of the fleet, and her realization that this fight would one day arrive, had kept her at her duty…and away from the death much of her craved.
She was just watching now. She’d given all the commands, at least for the moment. Now, the battle lay mostly on her gunners and her navigators. Her eyes were focused on the map, but she knew she wouldn’t have any orders to give, not until the enemy launched an attack on Earth-2.
That would happen, eventually. She was certain of that…and it was her primary consideration. Her people could direct the battle, she knew that, but protecting Earth-2, stopping the enemy from reaching out and destroying it…that was her job. She understood that destroying the planet was actually more important to the enemy than winning the fight, and she expected an attempt to be made. She had taken a great risk allowing the enemy to advance as far as she did. That had been a close call, but she was convinced she had made the right decision. At least for the moment.
She watched her main battle line, as it advanced, as it took on its enemy counterpart. The battle was going well, at least so far, and she tried to allow herself a moment of joy. But that was beyond her abilities. She could only sit and watch…and wait until the enemy moved on the planet.
* * *
Admiral Clark felt the impact, the first shot that had hit Artemis. His flagship was deployed right in the middle of his force, and it had gone a considerable time without being struck. But now, it paid for that, taking a solid hit, one that definitely did some damage. How much was still a question, and one he expected an immediate answer to.
Clark turned, clearly holding back some kind of comment. He knew his officers were working as hard as possible, that they were trying to get him the information he needed, as quickly as they could…but he still found it difficult to wait, even for a few seconds.
Finally, one of them turned and said, “Damage to the engines…down to eighty percent.” That was bad…but perhaps not as bad as he had imagined in the ten seconds or so it had taken his people to make the report.
“I want anything we can get back…even if its just one or two percent.” He knew his orders were only repetitive of standard operating procedure, but he uttered them anyway. “And order the right wing to push forward…increase velocity ten percent.” The vessels on his right had done a better job so far than any of his other ships…any of the vessels in the entirety of Earth-2’s fleet, and he wanted them to keep up the pressure, to push as hard as possible against the enemy.
“Yes, sir.”
He watched, his eyes darting back and forth, from one end of his command to the other. His ships were belching out fire, blasting away at the enemy, as the Regent’s forces were doing in return. It was still fairly early in the fight, but some of his vessels began to show heavy damage…and a few on both sides, smaller ships, suddenly vanished, obliterated in wild displays.
His right wing pushed forward now, firing wildly, even as its ships began to attract more incoming fire. Clark knew the battle would be brutal, regardless of who won, but now he really took that consideration to heart…and he wondered if any vessel, on either side would survive by the time the fight was finished.
He looked around his bridge, at the scant crew Artemis carried. There were barely one hundred people aboard, which was a small enough crew for any major ship, but an almost unimaginably tiny one for a super-battleship. Clark remembered the ships when he had first joined the service, and he knew a vessel the size of Artemis, if there had been one so large, would have had a crew of four to five hundred. But he realized the true difference went far beyond that. A heavy battleship in the fleet that had settled Earth-2 was half the size of Artemis…and boasted a crew of almost two thousand.
Clark knew there were a lot of factors behind the rapid advancement that had taken place over sixty years. The pressure on the race to survive, the relatively small number of people present, and the constant need to produce as much strength as possible, to field the largest, most capable force they possibly could. Most of all, he realized, had been the abilities of the Mules. He wasn’t sure exactly what he thought of them—his opinions were definitely mixed—but he recognized their capabilities, and he knew whatever chances his people had against the enemy would be vastly smaller if they had never been created. That didn’t mean he actually liked them, or that he didn’t fear what they would one day do…but he was glad to have them on his side now.
He’d been watching the battle, quasi-attentively for quite a while, but suddenly, he saw two beams blast out from one of his vessels, and they both hit one of the enemy battleships. The target had already been badly damaged, and after ten or twelve seconds, he saw secondary explosions…and perhaps fifteen second later, it exploded. It wasn’t a huge factor, not the loss of one ship, but it was the first of the truly big vessels on either side to be lost. It didn’t mean a lot, perhaps, but Clark drew some hope from it, at least for the moment.
He knew his positive thoughts, his hopes for victory, were based in part on need, on the desperate prayer that his forces could find a way prevail, and more, to protect the planet, to save Earth-2. Whether his side really had a chance—and even more, whether the desperate mission to destroy the Regent could succeed—was beyond him. All he could do—would do—was fight…to the finish if necessary.
* * *
SP-01012 watched the battle as it escalated, issuing a few commands, but mostly allowing his junior units to direct the fight. He had given them all the plan, in each stage, and the combat had remained fairly straightforward…at least until now. The unit knew its primary goal, and while the destruction of the enemy fleet was a major objective, even more important was the obliteration of the homeworld. That was the true goal, and while SP-01012 knew that its performance would be evaluated on both the destruction of the enemy fleet and the wreckage of their home planet, it believed that destroying the world would be enough to rate a success. In the end, if the enemy’s planet was badly damaged, if their ships under construction and their ability to build more were both destroyed, if most of their people were killed, it would only take a couple years to build a force large enough to destroy whatever remained. It would be better to win an outright victory, of course, to destroy the fleet and the planet…but SP-01012 knew what was most important.
It directed a command, one it had been planning since the battle began. It was dangerous, it reduced its fleet’s chances of winning an outright victory, by a bit at least…but it vastly increased the chances of destroying Earth-2.
It watched as its ships obeyed, as no less than one-fifth of his vessels accelerated, advancing in the direction of Earth-2 in three separate groups. Any one of them was strong enough to bombard the planet, to destroy the population.
It knew the enemy would react, that its planetary fortresses would direct their fire against the advancing forces…but it wouldn’t be enough. Some of its ships would get close enough, and once they reached the planet, they would open fire. They would destroy the buildings, and they would incinerate the surrounding area. They would kill many of the people, and they would leav
e the survivors without sufficient food and medication…and totally devoid of any high tech equipment or production.
And that would be enough, it calculated…enough to assure its position as the Regent’s number two, as the second thinking machine in the Imperium. Then it could return, if necessary, and finish the job.
It watched as the ships began to carry out the order, as they advanced toward the planet…and it counted down the time until the real attack began, until the enemy’s homeworld was battered into oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Achilles stared at the display, at the battle now raging above Earth-2. He paid some attention to the main force, but most of his focus was now diverted. There was an enemy contingent—larger even than he’d expected—bound directly for Earth-2. He had contacted Admiral Frette, and they had agreed she had to divert a portion of the fleet to meet it.
To try to meet it. The enemy ships were moving at full speed, directly toward the planet. They had gained an edge, burst forward from the far section of the fleet…and they had gained the edge. It was going to take some effort to block them, to fight them before they arrived, even with the fire from the bases around Earth-2 also focusing on the enemy. He had calculated a dozen ways, thought through multiple routes, different plans…but no matter how he structured things, the enemy was going to get close enough to Earth-2 to take some shots.
It wasn’t a surprise, not really, or at least it shouldn’t be. He had almost assumed that some, at least, of the built-up area on Earth-2 would be attacked. But he had still hoped—without any real reason—that he was wrong.
