by Steve White
*
“Destoshaz’at, matters are progressing as anticipated,” Inzrep’fel retported. “Our drones confirm that the Arachnids are continuing to transit the Pesthouse warp point in waves. Our tactical analysts deduce that they have broken into the system.” (Flattery.) “As always, your order to dispatch the message drone in anticipation of this, shortly after the Arachnid offensive commenced, showed an order of wisdom that outstrips the rest of us.”
(Complacent satisfaction.) “True. Did the drone get off on schedule?”
“Yes, Destoshaz’at.”
“Excellent.” Zum’ref glanced at the strategic display and visualized his message speeding on the wings of selnarmic relay, flashing from Home Hive One where they lay observing the Arachnids and keeping them on the intended path, through Bug 04, Home Hive Three, and finally Bug 03, to the Kaituni forces there, ordering them to immediately commence their well-prepared attack on Bug 05. That attack, he estimated, ought to go in while the griarfeksh were still in position at the Home Hive One warp point, locked in battle with the Arachnids—or, possibly, when they had already withdrawn from that battle and were in retreat toward the Bug 17 warp point.
He turned and studied the Bug 05 system display, and pleasurably imagined the dilemma in which that attack would place the human admiral, who by this time had probably deduced the Kaituni’s intent to stay behind the advancing Arachnids, but couldn’t be absolutely certain of it.
“Excellent,” he repeated. “Now, summon a conference. I want to make sure all our subordinate commanders are clear on my guidelines for how long we wait after the last Arachnids have left this system, before we begin to follow them into Pesthouse.”
*
It was Pesthouse all over again. After Trevayne’s forces transited to Bug 05, the leading elements of their Bug pursuers came through precipitously, in the hope of turning a retreat into a rout by not allowing a breathing spell. They were disappointed. Trevayne had emplaced a fair number of fortresses and dense minefields around the Pesthouse warp point, and once again a Bug attack that lacked careful preparation and full concentration of force was blunted.
It was then that Trevayne received word from Adrian M’Zangwe at the Bug 03 warp point that the Kaituni were attacking…and that this time they were doing so in earnest. They had learned better than to waste their “stick-hives” in profusion, but a storm of SBMHAWKs was being followed by waves of heavy assault monitors.
“They must be coordinating it!” gasped Elaine De Mornay.
“Selnarmic courier, of course,” said Trevayne absently. “You see, it isn’t really a case of the Kaituni coordinating with the Bugs; of that I’m pretty certain. No, it’s a matter of the Kaituni activating a well-prepared plan to take advantage of the Bug movements.” He dismissed the subject with an impatient gesture. “Have comm raise Ma…Admiral Li-Trevayne. I want her and Admiral M’Zangwe on a split screen.”
While the order was carried out, Trevayne glared at the system display. Bug 05’s three warp points described almost a right triangle, with the longer of the two sides opposite the hypotenuse a vertical forty-three light-minutes between the Pesthouse and Bug 17 warp points. Off to the left of the Bug 17 warp point, at a twenty-two light-minute distance, was the Bug 03 warp point and the embattled Adrian M’Zangwe.
“We have no alternative,” he told them bleakly. “I’m still convinced that the Kaituni are going to get behind the Bugs and keep their distance. But in case I’m wrong, we can no longer risk being trapped in this system. And this time I’m not going to sacrifice the fortress crews here at this warp point. We’ll put the fortresses on automatic defense mode and commence a fighting retreat to the Bug 17 warp point. Alistair, you must hold the Bug 03 warp point until we’re at…about seven o’clock from the local sun, at a distance of five light-minutes, which is as close as I want to approach this blue giant star.” They all knew even that would have been far too close without energy shields. “Then I’ll signal you, and you will commence withdrawal, to rendezvous with us at the Bug 17 warp point.” He met their eyes in turn, lingering longer over Magda’s. “I’m going to risk leaving Hugo Allende’s command at that warp point for now, to help us fight a delaying action with Bugs as long as possible.”
It was impossible for M’Zangwe to go pale, but he looked apprehensive. “Is that wise, Admiral? Whatever the Kaituni’s policy toward the Bugs is, such a prize might tempt them to join the battle, and if they do, and get in a certain range—”
“—Then the devastators and superdevastators are doomed,” Trevayne finished for him with merciless finality. “In case of such an eventuality, I’m going to keep them close to the warp point, and if—no, when—the Bugs get much closer to them than heavy missile range, I’m going to order Hugo to transit to Bug 17 immediately.”
“Which he’ll do under protest.” Magda managed a small smile.
“He and anyone else can protest as they like. But everyone has to recognize one thing: we’ve reached the point where even delaying the enemy and inflicting the maximum losses on him—important though those are—have become secondary to preserving a fleet in being. In Bug 17 we’re going to be all that’s standing between the Bugs and the final approaches to Alpha Centauri, the gateway to all the Heart Worlds and Sol itself. I want those words—a fleet in being—branded into everyone’s brain beyond any possibility of forgetfulness. And now…” He turned away from the screen and addressed De Mornay. “Let’s start getting those fortress crews off.”
*
The evacuation of Pesthouse went about as well as could be hoped. M’Zangwe was compelled to pull back from the Bug 03 warp point somewhat earlier than planned, to avoid unacceptable losses. But he was still able to link up with Trevayne’s forces just short of the Bug 17 warp point, for the Kaituni attackers made no attempt to pursue him and cut off Trevyane’s retreat. Instead, they followed the kind of now-familiar course that would bring them around behind the advancing Bugs, whom they followed at a distance of several light-minutes.
So Combined Fleet reunited at the Bug 17 warp point, then turned at bay and struck back against the leading Bug elements. In the absence of Kaituni attackers, Allende’s devastators and superdevastators poured out a torrent of heavy bombardment missiles, and fighters slashed through the stolid Bug formations. But as more and more of the pursuing armada piled up, Trevayne knew he could delay no longer. Combined Fleet made its escape to Bug 17, then prepared to face the expected Bug pursuit. But in this case the latter was little more than a probe, of short duration. Turning about in accordance with long-established tactical doctrines, the retreating forces turned and blazed away at anything hostile that emerged from the warp point, and the fortresses Trevayne had pulled back from Bug 05 (which he had known he could not count on holding) added their fire. The Bugs, clearly aware that another well-prepared attack would be necessary here, drew off. The fire and fury of battle died away, leaving Trevayne and Magda to contemplate two things they had observed before leaving Bug 05.
The first was the sheer numbers of Bug ships. The relatively uneventful retreat across the Bug 05 system had given them the opportunity to gain a fuller appreciation of what they faced, and even with the losses Combined Fleet had inflicted it was even worse than their previous estimates.
The second was that, as the Bugs had doggedly pursued Combined Fleet past the blue Pesthouse sun, Kaituni ships had begun to emerge from the Home Hive One warp point behind them, keeping well astern of the seemingly oblivious Arachnids. And the other Kaituni fleet which had entered from Bug 03 swung about in a course clearly intended to coalesce with the new arrivals.
Thus Combined Fleet stood in Bug 17, facing a Bug swarm that exceeded even those of the history books, and, following behind it, what might well amount in the end to the total fleets of seven Kaituni DIspersates. And Trevayne could not permit them to disguise from themselves the probable implications.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Bug 17’s primary was a Sol-type class
G2v main sequence star. But the system was lifeless, for its second planet—orbiting at eight light-minutes, precisely in the “Goldilocks Zone” (not too hot and not too cold but just right)—was a dustball too small to hold a useful atmosphere. So once again Combined Fleet, in its stubborn retreat through the old Bug systems, was spared the strategic complication of having a planetary population to defend.
They were, Ian Trevayne thought bleakly, not likely to remain much longer in that happy state.
He ran his eyes over the haggard faces around the conference table. Combined Fleet’s command structure, after all its vicissitudes, had shaken down to something not too different from the old Allied Tangri Pacification Force. Adrian M’Zangwe commanded the Terran Republic component, Rafaela Shang the Rim Federation one. Magda exercised an overall command of both. Second Fleet’s remnants had by now been integrated with the PSU elements Trevayne had picked up on the way to Home Hive Two and the Ophiuchi carrier flotilla, all under the command of Admiral Mario Leong. He, like Magda, reported directly to Trevayne, who had, as a kind of political afterthought, been appointed Grand Admiral of the alliance.
Trevayne had taken this probably fleeting opportunity to summon his senior officers to Zeven Provinciën—and not just the most senior ones. The compartment was packed, for everyone down to task group commanders was there, as were Elaine De Mornay, Andreas Hagen, and the flag captain, Janos Thorfinnssen, a massive Beauforter. It was not just the standing-room-only overcrowding that made the atmosphere oppressive. Everyone knew this would be a somber conference indeed.
“All right, this is the situation,” Trevayne began using a light-pencil to indicate locations on the system display. They lay near the Bug 05 warp point, at a bearing of six o’clock and a distance of twenty-six light-minutes. Fourteen light-minutes away was the Bug 21 warp point, on a five o’clock bearing, but no one paid attention to that one. Far across the system, at a bearing of eleven o’clock and a distance of twenty-three light-minutes, was the system’s third warp point: the one leading to Bug 16, one step closer to Alpha Centauri.
“We would, of course, prefer to hold this system against the Bugs,” Trevayne continued. “However, we must face certain facts. The first, of course, is the sheer size of the Bug armada we’re facing. Now, given their technological inferiority, and our ability to use the devastators and superdevastators for defensive fire, it is within the bounds of possibility that we may be able to hold them—”
A low collective growl filled the packed room. It held no bravado, no false optimism, nothing at all but grim determination and refusal to accept defeat.
“But,” Trevayne resumed remorselessly, “as we are all aware, the Bugs have an indifference to losses that seems suicidal to us. Actually, they’re not suicidal at all; their hive consciousness is in fact extremely tenacious in protecting its own survival, as we’ve learned to our sorrow. But individual units mean nothing, and will be sacrificed unfeelingly in pursuit of an objective considered obtainable. The point is, even a successful defense of this system might well entail unacceptable losses for us.”
“Whereas they have no such concept as ‘unacceptable losses,’” M’Zangwe grunted.
“Which leads me to the final fact that we cannot conceal from ourselves. While still in Bug 05, we saw a very formidable Kaituni fleet beginning to coalesce in that system behind the Bugs. Captain Hagen is of the opinion that it may, in the end, amount to the total resources of seven Dispersates.” Trevayne paused to let that sink in. “Now, by this time I think it can be taken as established that the Kaituni strategy is to let the Bugs go ahead of them, bearing the brunt of the fighting and taking the losses. So far, they have held to this policy with great consistency. But this is the system where that could change. If they decide the Bugs have served their purpose, and have suffered too much attrition to advance any further unaided, they may decide to intervene directly. And I need hardly tell you the danger—no, not danger; certainty of destruction—our devastators and superdevastators will face if they do.”
There was a long silence, for Trevayne was reluctant to continue and many of his listeners had already guessed what was coming next. Finally, he spoke. “Therefore, given the paramount importance of preserving a fleet in being for the defense of the final approaches to Alpha Centauri against the fresh Kaituni fleets following the Bugs, it will be necessary for us to avoid an attritional struggle here. We will put ourselves in a position to conduct a fighting retreat to the Bug 16 warp point. This, of course, will be a lengthy process, given the distance: more than fifty light-minutes. Furthermore, the navigational hazards posed by this system’s asteroid belt, at a radius of thirteen light-minutes and in the same plane as the warp points, mean we’ll have to pass through it twice. Commodore Allende’s command will commence withdrawal now. The main fleet elements will follow when it becomes indicated.”
For an instant, Allende stiffened and seemed about to speak. But he subsided under Trevayne’s gaze, and the latter resumed after a brief pause.
“In order for the withdrawal to be safely carried out, a covering force will have to be left here at this warp point to delay the Bugs. When the main fleet begins to pull back, it will swing away and take up position at the warp point. Without the support of the devastators’ and superdevastators’ firepower, this is all such a rear guard can realistically hope to accomplish. And it must expect to suffer…serious casualties.
“This is why I asked the task group commanders to be present. I want to keep Combined Fleet’s task force organization as intact as possible, so the covering force will be composed of task groups detached from various task forces. And those task groups will be selected on a volunteer basis.”
After a moment, a hubbub arose as task group rear admirals and commodores urged the qualifications of their commands. Trevayne called for order, and made selections on the basis of suitability. For example, he wanted to keep his invaluable Ophiuchi carrier formations intact, so the rear guard would be almost all human, save for an almost token contingent drawn from the Orion elements that still remained to Combined Fleet after Threeenow’hakaaeea’s self-sacrifice in Bug 03.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said when it was done. “All volunteers among the task group commanders will remain here aboard the flagship for the present, as we will need to hold at least one further briefing concerning the necessary reorganization. Captain Thorfinnssen, please arrange for temporary quarters. Are there any questions?”
“Yes, Admiral,” said Magda, looking him straight in the eye and speaking in level tones. Too level. “You haven’t said who will personally command this covering force.”
“I will,” Trevayne said briskly. His tone invited no discussion. “You will command the main fleet in its withdrawal. And now, if there are no further questions, the meeting is adjourned.”
The ones lucky enough to have chairs stood up, and everyone milled about in the usual manner of a meeting breaking up. All but one. Magda rose to her feet into a posture of frozen erectness, turned on her heel, and marched out, cutting a path through the crowd.
Trevayne sighed inwardly. May as well face the music. He proceeded toward his and Magda’s quarters.
*
“—So you’re going to risk yourself—no, throw yourself away!—just out of some misplaced notion of heroism? Is that it?”
Trevayne held onto what was left of his temper after half an hour of raging argument that had gone around and around in fruitless circles, as domestic quarrels will. “We’ve been over this…and over it, and over it, and over it. For this rearguard action to have any hope of success, it’s going to have to be led by someone with…well, symbolic value. It goes to some very deep-seated traditions.”
“But that’s the whole point! You’re indispensable. If a, well, symbol is necessary, that’s all the more reason why I should be in command of the covering force. Remember, I’ve got ‘Li’ in my name, and this force is going to be predominantly from the Terran Republic.” Magd
a stopped herself just short of adding, where I was born rather than naturalized, for that would have been too low a blow.
“And just how useful would I be as a symbol—or anything else—if I was seen to run away and leave my wife to—”
“So that’s what this is all about! Just because I’m a woman—”
The leash on Trevayne’s temper finally snapped. “That is not the issue at all!”
“It is…and you know it!”
Trevayne drew a deep breath, drew himself up, and spoke in a carefully controlled voice, his face set and hard. “At the moment, the point is not that you’re my wife but that you are my subordinate. My decision is made, and it is final. And I will tolerate no more insubordination.”
She blinked as though she had been struck. For a moment, the silence reverberated. Then she stood as rigidly as he, and spoke in as tight a voice. “Very good, Admiral. Have I your permission to return to my flagship?”
For a segment of frozen time, they stood with eyes locked, each one wanting desperately to reach out—no, to cry out to the other. If a single word had been spoken, they would have been in each other’s arms. But neither could yield.
“Permission granted,” Trevayne finally said through a constricted throat.
She left the flag quarters and proceeded along Zeven Provinciën’s passageways. A young man fell in behind her. As she brought her seething emotions under control, she remembered that he was a new aide her chief of staff had assigned to her. For the first time, she noticed that his space-service grays had the black-and-silver trim of the PSU. It was typical of the way personnel had become more and more interchangeable in Combined Fleet with less and less concern for the services to which they belonged.
“What’s your name?” Magda asked, because she needed to talk to someone.
“Lieutenant Menocal, ma’am. I was assigned—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” She indicated his PSU colors. “How did you happen to end up with the Terran Republic fleet?”
