Or trigger the self-destruct, he thought, morbidly. They can’t be allowed to capture this ship.
“Returning to realspace ... now,” Marie said.
Another shudder ran through the ship. King Whatever’s drives had held up remarkably well - the Tokomak had built them to last, even though they’d never anticipated an artificial gravity field - but it hadn't been a comfortable flight. Elton was all too aware that the shock of crashing back into realspace, almost uncushioned, would jar his ship badly. It was quite possible that the cloaking field would fluctuate, if only for a second. And the Harmonies, already paranoid, would not dismiss whatever they saw as a sensor glitch.
“Transit completed,” Marie said.
Elton leaned forward as the display began to fill with icons. “Did they see us?”
“I don’t think so,” Callaway said, after a moment. “They’re certainly not opening fire.”
“Keep us in position,” Elton said. “And hope that the talking head is convincing.”
He felt his heart starting to pound as Odyssey shadowed King Whatever as she crawled towards the gravity point. The Ringer System had no less than seven gas giants and a massive asteroid field, making it invaluable real estate even though the sole rocky planet was too far from the star to be successfully terraformed. It swarmed with life. His sensors were picking up so many settled asteroids, industrial nodes and cloudscoops that they were threatening to lose count. It was a reminder, once again, of the terrifying industrial power of the Galactics ...
... And just how great a challenge humanity faced, as it struggled to establish itself in the universe.
“They don’t want anything bad to happen to this system,” Callaway commented. “There's a lot of firepower here.”
Elton nodded, stiffly. The gravity point to Chalmers was heavily defended, orbited by no less than seven fortresses and over fifty starships. His sensors picked up dozens of other starships and defensive emplacements within the system, even though galactic doctrine stated that defending independent asteroids was a waste of strength. They were too far from the other two gravity points to get a solid look at their defences, but he would have bet half his salary that they were just as heavily defended. Quite apart from the system’s raw wealth and industrial base, it was a major transit node. The Harmonies were in an excellent position to dominate interstellar shipping for the foreseeable future.
Unless someone takes this system off them, he mused. But then, they would have to take dozens of others too.
“Captain,” Callaway said. “The talking head is going to work.”
“Stand by,” Elton ordered.
He felt the tension rising as two giant freighters, each one easily large enough to conceal a battleship, emerged from the gravity point, escorted by a handful of destroyers. Normally, if he’d found himself so close to so much enemy firepower - and hidden under a cloak - he would have shut down the drives and pretended to be a hole in space. It would have maximised the chances of escaping detection. But that wasn't an option. He needed to keep going, remaining as close to King Whatever as possible. Any stray sensor readings might just be blamed on the battlecruiser.
“We have clearance to pass through the gravity point,” Callaway said. “And a string of updates!”
He paused. “King Whatever is moving into position,” he added.
“Move us after them,” Elton ordered. “We have to jump with them.”
And pray the cloaking field holds, he added, silently. And that we don’t get slammed together during the jump.”
“Aye, sir,” Marie said. She sounded edgy. “Moving into position now.”
Elton braced himself. A single mistake now would reveal their location. Escape would be impossible ...
“Jumping in five seconds,” Marie said. “Four ... three ... two ...”
The universe dimmed, just for a second. Elton braced himself, even though he knew it was futile. If they’d been spotted, the enemy missiles would strike his ship before his sensors managed to reboot themselves. The urge to cower was almost overpowering. He half-expected the hull to explode inwards at any second ...
“Transit complete,” Marie said.
“They didn't see us,” Callaway said. He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll be damned.”
“Probably,” Marie said.
Elton glanced from one to the other, wondering if they were up to something he ought to know about. Callaway outranked Marie, after all. But then, they’d known the odds of getting home were very low. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the situation - he could be wrong - and then leaned forward. They couldn't stay still for long.
“Move us out,” he ordered. “Keep shadowing King Whatever.”
“Aye, Captain,” Marie said.
He felt sweat trickling down his back. The Chalmers System was barren - no planets, no asteroids, nothing of great interest apart from a stray comet - but it did have five gravity points. Hundreds of starships were blinking into existence on the display, moving from one gravity point to another or altering course to head off into interstellar space. Unsurprisingly, the gravity points were heavily defended. There were two fortresses within easy missile range of their position.
But they missed us, he thought. We made it through.
“We’ll be at the Daladier Point in fifteen hours, at current speed,” Marie reported. “So far, her drive appears to be holding up.”
“So far,” Callaway muttered.
Elton frowned. If they could slip through the defences and into Daladier, they would be practically home free ... unless the Harmonies had already invaded Hudson. The files they’d captured hadn't said when the invasion was going to take place, unsurprisingly. There was no way to know what was waiting for them. If the Harmonies wanted to make life difficult for him, and he assumed they did, all they’d have to do was take control of Daladier.
“Captain,” Callaway said. “There’s almost no traffic through the Daladier Point.”
“Shit,” Elton said.
He forced himself to think. A handful of freighters had come through the point, all heading into interstellar space instead of trying to reach the other gravity point. He had no way to be sure how many freighters passed through every day, normally, but the Daladier Point was strikingly quiet compared to the others. And, with Daladier only one transit from Hudson, he couldn't help thinking that that was an ominous sign. He was sure there was normally more traffic through the gravity point.
We don’t know for sure, he reminded himself.
Wishful thinking, his own thoughts mocked. The gravity point is too well located not to be used.
He called up a starchart, but found no answers. The gravity point was starting to look like a trap, yet - if it was a trap - he saw no choice, but to spring it. If they altered course, if they headed to the next system, they’d add at least three weeks to their journey. It wouldn't have mattered so much, he knew, if they hadn't known Hudson Base was going to be attacked. They had to punch through the gravity point and make their way into Daladier ...
“Keep us on course,” he ordered. He glanced at the communications station. “Lieutenant Grave ... is there any way we can query those freighters without revealing our identity?”
Grave hesitated, noticeably. “I don’t think so, Captain,” she said, finally. “Even if we left off the ID header, they’d be able to track the signal and pinpoint King Whatever. They might not answer or they might lie. We wouldn't know.”
“Thank you,” Elton said. Grave was far too inexperienced. She was normally part of the delta crew, but Williams had transferred to King Whatever with two of his staff. “See if you can pick up any transmissions that might be informative.”
“Aye, Captain,” Grave said.
Elton allowed himself a stab of sympathy. Grave - and the other deltas - had been promoted shortly before being assigned to Odyssey. No doubt someone in the personnel department had thought the cruise would be boring, a chance to give the newly-minted officers
some experience without risk. Odyssey hadn't been heading off to the Martina Sector, after all.
And what a cruise they’ve had, he thought, amused.
“Launch a stealth probe towards the gravity point,” he ordered. “And inform me when it is in place to observe our target.”
“Aye, sir,” Calloway said.
Elton checked the live feed from King Whatever - so far, the giant battlecruiser was bearing up well - and ordered half the crew to get some rest. They’d need it. He haunted the bridge for three hours before putting Callaway in command and heading into his office to get some rest himself. There shouldn't be any danger, now they were well away from the fortress, but he still felt on edge. The enemy might realise what had happened at any moment.
But we can evade contact now, if we have to, he reassured himself. If they wanted to stop us, they could just wait until we approach the gravity point and open fire.
It wasn't a comforting thought, but he clung to it as he tried to get some rest. His sofa was comfortable, yet ... sleep didn't come easy. He had to fight the temptation to use his implants, something he’d vowed never to do in combat. By the time he awoke and stumbled into the shower, he was feeling as if he hadn't slept at all.
“No contact, Captain,” Callaway assured him, when he called the bridge. “We’re proceeding on course.”
“Very good,” Elton said.
He washed himself hastily, then changed into a spare uniform. An update from the analysis deck was sitting in his terminal when he returned to the office, informing him that the Harmonies might well be moving their forces into Daladier. He snorted in annoyance as he scanned the update. The fortresses might have unwittingly told their quarry everything they knew, but it was unlikely they had the latest updates. Even the Harmonies had better things to do, right now, than making sure that every last outpost was kept up to date.
And we know they have to occupy Daladier before moving into Hudson, he thought, as he strode onto the bridge. They don’t have a choice.
“They have made no attempt to contact us, Captain,” Callaway informed him. “I believe there’s no reason to think that they’ve seen through the deception.”
Elton nodded, sourly. He’d seen talking heads used before, including a couple designed by aliens. The images themselves had been perfect - the Galactics outdid Hollywood when it came to strikingly realistic CGI - but the longer he’d watched and listened, the clearer it became that the designer didn't quite get humanity. It had been impossible to believe, after a while, that he was talking to a real person. There were just too many tiny flaws, too many things that a human designer would have included as a matter of course.
And we might have failed to spoof them, he thought. For all we know, our talking head looks as though it came from the Uncanny Valley.
“We’ll proceed carefully,” he said, as he took his seat. “Status report?”
“The cloaking device is holding, sir,” Calloway said. “No power fluctuations that we can see. Engineering reports that the repairs to the drives are also holding, although Mr. Wolf would prefer to shut down the drive when we have a moment and carry out a full inspection.”
“Which won’t be possible until we reach Hudson Base,” Elton said, shortly. Wolf had every reason to be concerned - he couldn't do more than patch up the drives without a shipyard or mobile repair unit - but Odyssey had to keep going. “And King Whatever?”
“Ah ... Commander Biscoe reports no problems,” Callaway said. “She’s still leading us onwards.”
“Very good,” Elton said.
He watched, grimly, as King Whatever glided towards the gravity point. There were two fortresses on station, backed up by a small flotilla of destroyers and gunboats. It was a surprisingly small commitment, he thought, yet the Harmonies might be reluctant to advance their network of fortifications too close to Hudson. They might have uncontested control over Chalmers, but Daladier and Hudson itself were a different story. Putting up a defensive wall there would definitely annoy the other Galactics.
“Commander Biscoe is sending our ID codes to the enemy fortresses,” Callaway said.
Elton nodded. No starships had popped through the gravity point in the last hour ... something that definitely worried him. Word was spreading ... but word of what? His imagination provided too many possibilities. The only thing that reassured him, oddly, was the lack of any major combat units blocking the gravity points. Fortresses were formidable, but they couldn't give chase. The destroyers and gunboats would be no match for Odyssey in a straight fight. He assumed the Harmonies knew it as well as he did.
Unless they have ships lurking on the far side, his imagination pointed out. A single destroyer could pop through the gravity point and tell the battleships to make transit, shifting the balance decisively in their favour. How else could they coordinate an operation over interstellar distances?
Grave looked up. “Captain,” she said. “There’s no response from the fortresses.”
“Shit,” Marie muttered.
“Don’t panic,” Elton ordered. He glanced down at his console. Flash-waking his weapons and shields would take time ... too much time. They were dangerously vulnerable, if they’d been rumbled. “Hold us in position and wait.”
He hoped, silently, that Biscoe didn't do anything impetuous. Perhaps the enemy were just double-checking the ID code. Or perhaps, they were wondering why King Whatever had returned so quickly. It wasn't easy to keep interstellar travel on a planned schedule, but a paranoid mind might wonder if she was suspiciously early. Hell, for all he knew, the Harmonies suspected her commanding officer hadn't bothered to complete his mission.
“They’re demanding an updated code,” Grave said.
Red lights flashed on the display. “They’re scanning us,” Callaway said. “Sir ... at this range, they’ll penetrate the cloak!”
Elton took a breath. So close ...
It isn't over yet, he told himself, sharply.
“Drop the cloak,” he ordered. “Raise shields and charge weapons. Prepare to engage.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Perfection is an illusion.
Let us be honest about that, if nothing else. There is no such thing as true perfection. Everything we do is imperfect - everything we do has flaws that a nitpicker can point out, if he wishes. Even the best books, the best movies, the best military plans ... they all have their flaws. The best planners know to plan for the unexpected because NOTHING is perfect.
Sure, the Grand Alliance will not be perfect either. But it is the only hope we have.
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
“I think we surprised them,” Callaway said, darkly.
Elton nodded in agreement. The Harmonies had known that something was wrong, but they hadn't known what. Perhaps they’d only intended to scare their fellow commander. And yet ... it didn’t matter. Odyssey had been exposed the moment the enemy had started to sweep space with active sensors. No cloak ever designed could stand up to that.
“Enemy gunboats moving into attack position,” Callaway added. “The fortresses are locking weapons on us.”
“Lock Hammers on them and return fire,” Elton snapped. The fortresses might just give them a few seconds. Odyssey was right under their guns, after all. A reasonable commander might try to surrender. “Fire!”
“Missiles away,” Callaway snapped. “Enemy fortresses opening fire!”
“Deploy ECM drones, stand by point defence,” Elton ordered. “Fire at will!”
The gunboats zoomed in, ducking and diving around King Whatever as they closed on Odyssey. Biscoe opened fire a second later, his point defence scattering the gunboats and forcing them to evade his fire. Elton cursed as the fortresses unleashed a second salvo, targeting King Whatever. They might have hesitated to fire on a friendly ship - just as he would have been unsure about firing on a human ship - but their reluctance hadn't lasted. They knew that K
ing Whatever was in enemy hands.
“Missiles entering point defence range,” Callaway reported. “A quarter have been lured off-target.”
They must not have got the latest targeting updates out here, Elton thought, as missiles started to vanish from the display. His point defence programs had been vastly improved too as his tactical staff learned from past encounters. We might just have a chance.
“Fortress One has been hit and destroyed,” Callaway snapped. “Fortress Two has taken a glancing blow. She’s badly damaged, but intact.”
Elton hesitated. Fire another Hammer? They were down to five, without any hope of resupply. And yet, Fortress Two was still firing. The Tokomak had done a very good job of designing her.
“Withhold the remainder of the Hammers,” he ordered. “And tell Mr. Biscoe to lead the way into the gravity point.”
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 38
