The Milora chuckled again. "We were prepared for that. Our friends in the Raider Corporation have explained how that works. Commandant Mikel Arneu has told us that we merely have to use our Sub-Light engines to get past the projection and our Light-Speed engines will re-engage."
"Oh, but our grid is much more sophisticated than the simple grid once used by the Raiders. Didn't you hear that it destroys any ship that tries to cross it? Didn't you receive messages from the Milori warriors who tried it during the first encounter?"
"Yes, we did, but those were the wild ravings of severely injured and dying warriors who didn't know what they were saying."
"You said that you intercepted our news broadcasts. Didn't you see it for yourself?"
"We saw a clever simulation, designed to look like the grid was causing the problem."
"You don't believe your people, and you don't believe the news broadcasts. I have to wonder what it will take to convince you. Perhaps you'll believe your own eyes." Gesturing in the direction of the Milori ships that the Marines had tethered together, Jenetta said, "You need only look at the pile of refuse we've begun to accumulate out here. That growing scrap collection used to be one-hundred-three of your Emperor's finest warships. And now you bring us another two hundred ships for the scrap heap. Perhaps a demonstration is called for. Select an officer that you don't particularly care for and send his ship through the grid. We won't fire as long as it doesn't come closer than twenty-five-thousand kilometers, the effective range of your laser weapons."
"Our laser weapons can destroy at ranges far greater than twenty-five thousand kilometers," the Milora said.
"Of course they can," Jenetta said, "as can ours. I said effective range because we both know how such weapons are affected by light-speed lag, diffraction, equipment thermal stresses, and the like. We've had ample opportunity to examine your ships and weapons since we destroyed your fleet. Please, feel free to send one of your ships against the barrier."
The Milora's expression changed. The Terran's challenge was most unexpected. Once Mikel Arneu had explained how the electronic debris field worked, Dwillaak had become supremely confident that his forces would easily destroy the puny fleet opposing his mighty armada. He believed that the Third Fleet had been fooled by the Terran admiral's lies, and simply allowed themselves to be destroyed where they'd stopped because they feared to cross through the non-existent barrier. The witnessed explosions had to be the result of torpedoes, not some fanciful energy barrier. But why would the enemy now be challenging him to disprove her claim in this fashion? It had to be a bluff. Perhaps she was hoping to have a single warship put into a vulnerable position and destroyed before his forces had a chance to react. Well, he decided, he wouldn't play the enemy's game; he'd send an entire battle group forward. Turning slightly to his left he said, "Send Marshall Talqulk's group forward to a position a thousand kilometers beyond the barrier. No further."
The Prometheus' tactical operator changed the view to the front of the minefield, but superimposed a much smaller image of the Supreme Lord Space Marshall into an insert area on the front viewscreen.
A dozen ships moved forward slowly under Sub-Light engine power. It seemed to take forever as all eyes watched their progress. As Marshall's Talqulk's heavy cruiser reached the nearly invisible minefield, two almost simultaneous nuclear explosions ripped apart the bow of the armored hull, whiting out the Prometheus' sensors for a second so that only the inset image of Dwillaak appeared on a vast field of white at the front the bridge. The Supreme Lord Space Marshall screamed for the battle group to stop and retreat, but it was too late. Marshall Talqulk, expecting an attack by Space Command forces while exposed in front of the main force, had assembled his group into battle formation instead of using their pursuit tactic of following one after another. His ship had only been a few scant meters ahead of the others, and they'd encountered the barrier at almost the same instant. Huge holes opened in the minefield as fusion mines flashed briefly, but it was at the expense of a dozen prime warships. The destroyed ships spun and drifted beyond the minefield, huge gaping holes in their hulls proof of where the mines had effectively done their job. The tactical station sensor screen on the Prometheus' bridge showed that the remaining mines were immediately closing ranks to fill the holes. The Milori shouldn't be able to see that data unless they discovered the special RF frequency that the mines used to coordinate with one another.
"You have my condolences for the loss of your brave warriors, Supreme Lord Space Marshall. I assume that you believe your own eyes? Or do you feel that this was a clever simulation. Or perhaps the ravings of severely injured and dying warriors?"
Another Milora moved into the picture and whispered something to Dwillaak, then moved back away from the Supreme Lord Space Marshall. Dwillaak calmed and smiled as if again possessing certain knowledge that he'd win the day. "Very clever, Admiral. My tactical officer tells me that we have detected mines moving along the grid. We know now how you made it appear that your grid was causing the damage. I offer you a chance to surrender for the last time."
Although her heart was beating three times normal, Jenetta appeared as calm as if she hadn't a care in the world. It was the ability to appear icy calm in the face of possible disaster that had earned her the nickname, 'Ice Queen.' The Milori sensors were better than she had expected, and the number of holes opened in the minefield meant that a lot more had to shift position than she'd anticipated. But she had to appear as supremely confident as Dwillaak appeared. "You still believe that you stand a chance against my forces?" she asked.
"Yes. Oh, I know that your ships are well constructed and that your weapons are powerful. But so are ours. A dozen ships, no matter how well constructed or powerfully armed, can't possibly stand up against my force of two hundred six warships— correction, one hundred ninety-four warships. We'll overpower you by sheer weight of numbers."
"A dozen ships? Is that all you think that I have available? What if I was to tell you that I have many, many more ships positioned nearby?"
"I told you, we intercepted your news broadcasts. You haven't had time to get more ships here."
"No?" Jenetta raised her left hand and extended her index finger. The com operator pressed a button on the console.
The Milora had watched as Jenetta raised her arm. He continued to watch for some additional movement from her. When no further movement appeared forthcoming he asked, "What does this mean? This one raised digit?"
By Jenetta's calculations, her information exchange credit with the Milora was high enough that he shouldn't be asking any questions of her. Perhaps the unusual system didn't apply to top officials. "It's a signal from me for ships to move up," she said, simply.
Dwillaak's tactical officer hurried over and whispered in his ear. The news shook Dwillaak, but he didn't allow it to alter his outward composure. How had Space Command reinforced their position here so quickly, when the news broadcasts all stated that Carver only had fifteen ships under her command?
"So, Admiral," Dwillaak said, "you held back a large reserve force. My tactical officer has detected the nineteen large ships a billion kilometers off your larboard stern quarter. But even thirty-one warships will not be enough to save you. No matter how powerful they are."
"Thirty-one to one-hundred-ninety-four are better odds than we had at our last encounter with Milori intractability. Just for the sake of argument, how many will it take to convince you to return to your own territory peacefully?"
"You don't have enough for that. The Emperor himself charged me with this mission. I shall not fail."
"No?" Jenetta asked, and then raised her arm again, this time extending two fingers. The com operator pressed another button.
After a few seconds, Dwillaak's tactical officer hurried to his side again and whispered something. Dwillaak's expression changed slightly. The arrogant and contemptuous look he'd had until now was gone. "You're full of surprises, Admiral. We see the additional thirty-four ships off your s
tarboard stern quarter. So you really have a force of sixty-five ships. You're not nearly as helpless as you first appeared." Dwillaak was feeling some nervousness now, although he tried to project an image of calm. If fifteen Space Command ships could destroy a hundred-three Milori warships, what chance did a hundred-ninety-four have against sixty-five? He only had a three to one superiority now.
"We were never helpless, Supreme Lord Space Marshall. We originally believed your ships to be much more powerful than they really are, so we brought fifteen ships to the original engagement, as it showed on the news. After a close examination of your ships from the third fleet by my engineers, I believe that my twelve ships could destroy your two fleets easily. Extra ships will just allow your complete destruction much sooner. We know all your weaknesses, and we know that you can't possibly survive our weapons. I would prefer to avoid a battle because a few dozen of my people will undoubtedly be injured or killed. So if you need more convincing to withdraw your forces back to your own territory…" Jenetta extended her arm again and raised three fingers.
If it was possible for a Milora to turn white, Jenetta felt that Dwillaak would have done so as his tactical officer hurried over anxiously and whispered to him again. Her words had planted seeds of serious doubt about his fleet's superiority, and with each wave of her hand, she conjured up a greater and greater numbers of ships. This was no enemy trick or sensor malfunction. Those ships were real. But how could she have so many? How could their intelligence data have been so wrong? And how could he possibly hope to defeat an enemy whose ships were obviously so superior to his own. As the number of enemy ships inched closer and closer to parity with the size of his own forces, he knew that he didn't have a chance of defeating Carver.
"How many more ships must I call in for battle, Supreme Lord Space Marshall? Do you hold your warriors in such low regard? Would you see them slaughtered in a senseless battle that you can't possibly win? Your Emperor has already lost one entire fleet. Would it be serving him wisely to lose an additional two fleets? Surely the Empire could use these fleets back home to squash peaceful dissidents and defenseless insurrectionists. There's no doubt that we will suffer a few casualties in an engagement, and I would like to avoid that if possible, but I'll be even more saddened if you force me to kill so many more Milori. I grieve for the families of the two-hundred-thousand warriors that will not be returning as a result of our first engagement. Please don't cause me to sadden the families of four-hundred-thousand more." Jenetta drew in a large breath, then released it quickly in a loud sigh. Almost casually, she said, "But, I will, if that's the only course you leave open to me…"
Jenetta raised her arm again.
"Wait, Admiral," Dwillaak said quickly. "Perhaps our two nations can reach an understanding."
Jenetta slowly lowered her arm. "Will you withdraw from Galactic Alliance space and promise never to return?"
The Milora looked as if he would strangle on his own words. His head shook slightly as he forced the words from his vocal orifice. "Yes, we will withdraw, and I will not return."
"Immediately, without stopping anywhere?"
"Agreed."
"How many other ships are in our space?"
"Just six, one at each of the bases that we've established."
"You will send them a message and have them immediately withdraw, without waiting for you to return. They can wait for you outside our border."
"Agreed."
"Finally, the Galactic Alliance establishes a new, one hundred light-year wide Buffer Zone outside our Frontier Zone border. It is Galactic Alliance space, and we'll patrol it as we see fit, although we'll not establish any permanent bases there. Your Empire will not try to claim it, nor will any warship from the Empire enter it without first receiving permission from the Galactic Alliance Council or Space Command."
The Milora really struggled to say, "Agreed," to this last condition that essentially surrendered a wide swath of previously unclaimed territory that otherwise could have been undisputed Milori territory.
"You agree to all these conditions in the name of the Milori Empire and your Emperor?"
"Yes."
"You agree that violating any of terms will be tantamount to an open declaration of war?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Let this be known as the Galactic Alliance-Milori Treaty of 2277."
"Agreed."
"We're holding hundreds of your warriors on our ships. We'll transfer them to one of your ships as soon as your fleets are under way out of our space. What about the bodies of the slain warriors?"
"Their souls have already departed. Dispose of the husks as you wish."
"Very well. Order all ships but one to reverse the course that you followed to get here and continue on that precise course for exactly one-hundred-twenty GST minutes at Light-375, then turn directly towards the Milori home world and proceed non-stop until they are across the new buffer zone. We have spotter ships watching. Once assured that you're complying, we'll transfer the prisoners to the ship that remains here. It can easily catch up with your fleets using its top speed."
"What about the minefield barrier?"
Jenetta nodded to the tactical officer, who disabled the mines and the electronic barrier equipment, then turned back to the viewscreen. "It's down. You may send out shuttles to rescue any survivors on Marshall Talqulk's dozen ships. Transmit the coordinates of the bases that you've established. We'll be sending someone to verify that you've indeed vacated them."
"My ship will remain here to accept the prisoners that you're holding in your ships after you're satisfied that we have complied."
The connection terminated, and the image on the front viewscreen returned to a sensor simulated view of the Milori fleet. Everyone on the bridge watched as one-hundred-ninety-three ships turned around and disappeared into the distance, leaving just one lone battleship in position. The conflict seemed to be over without firing a shot.
Captain Gavin turned to Jenetta and said in shock and awe, "I don't understand, Admiral. Where did you get all those warships?"
"I'll explain everything after the last Milori is gone."
An hour later the com operator said, "Admiral, message from the Piccolo. A fleet of one hundred ninety-three ships has passed their location, headed away."
"Thank you. Com, signal the Supreme Lord Space Marshall that we'll begin sending over the prisoners, and notify Major Visconti to begin transporting them."
"Aye, Admiral."
Jenetta and Captain Gavin continued to sit on the bridge, watching the shuttles move back and forth until all prisoners had been transferred. When the transfer was complete, the Milori vessel turned and left without another word. Jenetta waited ten minutes and then said, "Com, hail Captain Nadealt on commercial frequency 25932.5, please.
"He's on, Admiral," the operator said a few seconds later.
"Put it on the viewscreen."
The image of a uniformed Arrosian officer filled the monitor, making him look much larger than his actual three-foot four-inch height.
"Hello, Captain Nadealt. You followed the instructions perfectly. I'm indebted to you and your crew, the crews of your other ships, the King and Queen, and Prime Minister Marueck."
"We're most happy to have been of assistance to you Admiral. We owe you much for bringing peace and stability to our world again."
"I'd like to invite you and the other captains to join us tonight, aboard the Prometheus, for a small celebration. Say 1900 hours GST?"
"Thank you, Admiral. We'll be there."
"I'll look forward to meeting you in person. Carver out."
"Likewise. Nadealt out."
The screen returned to the view of space.
"Com, hail Trader Vyx aboard the Scorpion and put it on the viewscreen."
A few seconds later the image of Vyx appeared.
"Greetings, Admiral. It looks like it worked."
"Better than I could have hoped. Thank you, Trader. You may pay off the captains and
send them on their way."
"Will do, Admiral."
"We're having a small celebration at 1900 hours. You and your associates are welcome to attend, if you wish."
"Thank you, Admiral. I'll tell them; and I'll be there."
"Okay, Trader. I'll see you tonight. Carver out.
"Vyx out."
As the screen returned to an image of space, Jenetta realized that Gavin was staring at her with a confused expression on his face.
"Pay off the captains?" Gavin said. "You used mercenaries? But where did they get all those warships?"
"Let's go to my conference room office and I'll explain."
As Jenetta stood up, Commander Tim Eaton, the ship's First Officer, asked, "Is it over, Admiral?"
"For today, Tim."
The First Officer stood up and started applauding. In seconds the entire bridge crew was applauding, and then cheering, and then hugging one another.
Gavin smiled and said, "I'll notify my crew. Com, put me on ship-wide speakers."
The com chief, carried away with exuberance like the rest of the bridge crew, had to hurry back to his station. "Go ahead, Captain."
"Attention crew of the Prometheus. The Milori have turned around and are headed out of Galactic Alliance space. Thanks to Admiral Carver, their surrender and retreat was accomplished without our having to fire a shot this day. Captain out."
The bridge erupted in cheering again and some people wept in happiness as they released the built up tension they had been feeling for weeks and months. An hour earlier, they were sure they were all dead.
"Let's go to the conference room, Captain, and spread the word to the other ships. I'm sure that they're anxious to know what's going on."
"I know that I'm certainly anxious to know what just happened, Admiral."
Five minutes later, the large wall monitor in the conference room filled with the faces of ship's captains from the other ships in the task force, including those of the disabled ships, for the fifteen way conference.
Milor! Page 29
