"There's still a way to shake them."
Kirkpatrick raised a skeptical eyebrow. "The maneuvering crew has no miracles in that regard, Captain. I fail to see how we can run far enough, fast enough to get beyond their T-dopplers."
"You're right," Kendric agreed. "We have to find a way to lose ihem in T-space."
Kendric's statement met a combined reaction of blank looks from his Department Heads. The absolute basic fact to T-space navigation was that it was impossible to change course or speed, to fight or communicate while in T-space. And if their pursuers could track their out-bound course...
"We might get lucky," Morganen conceded. "They'll know our flight line, but they can't cover every star system along our path."
"Oh, but they're going to try," Kendric replied. "If they really want to get us, they'll drop a squadron into every star system along our projected course. No, we have to lose them completely in T-space."
"Good God...how?" Morganen was the one who asked it, but Kendric read the same question on every face in the room. "It's impossible!"
"Not quite." Kendric reached over to the desktop console and louched a button. The wall behind him converted to a repeater screen, displaying the same view that would be on the main screen on the bridge at that moment.
The Galaxy opened up before them, the golds and reds of the Core filling the screen. It appeared so large and close that little could be seen of the spiral arms, save where they condensed into the static images of swirling rivers, frozen currents of blue crowned with golden star mists and the blacks and scarlets and starlight glories of galactic nebula.
"There, gentlemen," Kendric said. "That is our chance." He waited while comprehension, then incredulity, captured each watching face.
We will escape by plunging through the Galactic Core itself!"
We must help those people. More than you can possibly imagine depends on their winning through to us! To abandon them to the doom that is closing in upon them is hopelessly shortsighted.. .and would leave us deserving of the same fate we are meting out to them!
We need what they have! We need their ships! We need them!
—From a report by Rannic Colby, Director, COM1NT, to Parliamentary Assembly, Cathandra, 15 December 6830
Rannic Colby did not hurry as he stepped out of the elevator and onto the polished floor of the Intelligence Service's communications center, buried almost 300 meters beneath Cathandra's surface. He passed numerous offices and office areas, smiling and nodding to those he knew. Twice, robotic security checkpoints forced him to stop to insert his ID tag in a reader and to submit to a retinal scan that would verify him to be who his tag claimed.
Central Communications was a nerve center for informational traffic from across the Commonwealth and from numberless sources throughout the TOG Empire as well. It was here that information from Colby's various Imperial sources was received and correlated, here that word had first been received from Clarity weeks before, that a TOG battleship squadron was actively in revolt.
"Good morning, Director," a uniformed staff member said. "We have the channel open, as you requested. You can take it in Booth One."
He nodded. Still not hurrying, he walked across the bustle and low-key tension of Central to a passageway opening in the far wall, made his way to another large, dimly lit room, and found the door to Booth One. The small, bare chamber reminded Colby of a crypt. It had a comfortable chair, however, and one wall was occupied by a transmission screen displaying a cool, shifting pattern of abstract colors and patterns. He sat down and pressed a button on the panel set into the chair's arm.
A young woman's face appeared on the screen, overwhelming because the large screen projected it many times larger than life. She wore a Commonwealth Fleet uniform, with the rank insignia of Lieutenant Commander. "Good morning, Director," she said. "We have your channel."
"Security classification zero-zero-zero," Ran recited. "Most secret. Code and scramble."
She nodded, checking indicators outside the range of Colby's view. "Coded and scrambled, sir." Her face broke apart in colored fragments.
Though buried far below Cathandra's surface, COMINT's Communications Center was only the end link in a chain of relays running across the planet and out into space. A Commonwealth VLCA in Cathandran orbit was aligned with a similar station almost 30,000 light years distant, far beyond the boundaries of the Commonwealth.
Colby hoped the codes and electronic safeguards protecting the transmissions between the two stations were as secure as they were supposed to be. In intelligence work, such things could never be taken for granted. Still, there came a point when security measure upon measure upon redundant security measure became more of a hindrance than a help. There came a time to take chances.
The formless churnings of the screen coalesced and gradually took shape. Alligator jaws parted, revealing razor teeth. Pupilless red eyes I'.leamed, blank and emotionless, from beneath heavy, scale-armored brow ridges. Dorsal spines stiffened in recognition and greeting.
"I greet the Gatherer of Joy," Colby intoned formally. Though there were linguistic translators on the circuit, he used the rasping, roughing, and barking sounds he had learned. His accent might be atrocious, his use of grammar^primitive, but Colby had learned long before that people—whatever their shape—appreciated a stranger's attempt to use their own tongue. "May you not die in peace, g'Ganik. May your offspring joy in war."
Had there been emotion in that alien face? There was no way to tell. "I thank you, Col-by, Master-of-Enemy's-Thoughts." The being spoke passable Standard also, Colby noted, without the benefit of a
translator. "How can aid be given?"
Colby shifted to Standard himself. His rote knowledge of a few KessRith words could carry him only so far. "I need to get a message— a vitally important message—through to Fleet Commander Davidian."
Nictating membranes closed across the KessRith's blank eyes, from inside to outside, then opened again. The spines visible behind its head stirred and shifted slightly with some unreadable emotion. "Who this Da-vi-dian is? Is Hu-man...no?"
"Is Human, yes. He is commander of a Renegade Legion strike force, somewhere near k'Chai."
"K'Chai within KessRith domains lies. What Hu-man strike force do there?"
Colby sighed. "The channel is secure, G'ganik. Or as secure as we can make it."
There was cooperation between the Commonwealth and the KessRith, but political considerations made that cooperation tentative and cloaked in secrecy. Recent agreements concluded between the two domains allowed Commonwealth and Renegade Legion forces to operate within KessRith space so long as they were not obtrusive about it. The notion that TOG was fighting two separate wars against two separate enemies was to be fostered for as long as the deception was possible. Officially, it was unthinkable for a Human naval unit to be operating within KessRith territory. And yet...
"G'Ganik," Colby continued. "We have a problem. An Imperial battleship group has turned renegade and is on its way to us. They have offered to meet us at a certain place. Failing that, they plan to meet us at Yanulf."
"Yanulf.. .fallen is." And how in blazes hadg'Ganik learned that? The information had not been released within the Commonwealth beyond certain security classifications in Intelligence and Fleet Staff Command. The KessRith were not known for their subtlety, but the capabilities of their intelligence services had surprised Colby before. G'Ganik was not so subtly reminding Colby of the fact.
"Correct. We must meet them at their first rendezvous site, or they will drop into a trap. But the Ministry of Defense fears TOG is setting a trap for us. They are not willing to risk an expeditionary force for a raid into TOG space.
"Fleet Commander Davidian could reach the rendezvous, however. He is operating under independent command at the moment, and could...ah...use his initiative. At the moment, however, we have no idea where he is, except that he is operating in the general area of k'Chai."
"Where this ren-dez-vous is?"
Colby hesitated. To tell the KessRith was to go far beyond his own authority, even as Director of COMINT. And yet, he'd gone far beyond that authority already to make this initiative. Apparently, it was all or nothing.
"The Caracalla Cluster. A star system listed as Vathlin."
"Know it, we do. When?"
"Anytime between now and..." Colby consulted a readout on the arm of his chair. "One hundred-seventy standard hours from now. They may be there now, for all we know. That's why we can't waste time contacting Davidian through the normal channels."
The gaping, razor-toothed jaws opened, then snapped shut decisively. "And payment is...?"
"Payment?"
"Renegade squadron, important to you is. Why? Hu-mans aboard? Or data in com-pu-ters?"
All or nothing? Colby realized with grim certainty that the least he could expect if this deal went sour was to lose his post as Director of COMINT. At worst, he could be shot. Unofficial negotiations and deals with an alien military power were frowned upon in official circles, and what he was doing could be classified as treason.
"Yes, g'Ganik. We want the people. But we also want to capture their ships intact. Their ship databases might have information we can use."
Standard practice on Imperial ships was for the computer department head to dump all computer data if the ship sustained so much damage that capture appeared inevitable. Indeed, a ship's own computer system would purge itself automatically at a command from the bridge or from any of numerous terminals all over the ship. Such care was taken because it was impossible to tell what scrap of data, however innocuous, might prove to be the missing piece in some vast puzzle being assembled bit by bit within the walls of a hostile intelligence service. The Commonwealth, too, used such precautions aboard their own ships, as did, no doubt, the KessRith. The chance to examine the databases of an entire TOG squadron was too good to pass up. Unfortunately, the Defense Ministry didn't seem to agree!
"They...willing to share data are?"
All or nothing! "Yes, g'Ganik. We'll work something out. Maybe have some of your operatives in on the debriefing." There! It won't hurt to remind him we know he has spies among the KessRith enclaves living in the Commonwealth!
"I promise nothing. Da-vi-dian in T-space is. But pass I on to him
your message, Col-by."
Colby shifted to the rasping bark that meant, "I thank the Gatherer-of-Joy."
The screen went blank. At least, I hope that's what it means. Wouldn't do to insult the fellow now!
"It could just be that they didn't get the message in time." Morganen stared at the screen, the view dominated by the crowded suns of Caracalla. Even with the camera view scaled down by a factor of 100 to 1, the cluster filled the screen from border to border and flooded the bridge with frosty light.
Kendric shook his head. They were on the bridge together, overlooking the Well and the quiet urgency that reigned there.
"I don't know. But I thought surely they'd have something here to meet us...a corvette.. .anything to verify that we're who and what we say we are. Ops...Hold it."
Kendric reached up to press his earpiece closer, listening. "Captain! Ops here!"
He returned to the command seat and pressed the intraship switch. "Go ahead, Kelly."
"Something coming in, Captain. Something big. We have it registering on the T-doppler, about one light month out."
Kendric looked up at his exec. "Someone incoming, Lenard. Maybe this is it." He opened the intercom channel again. "Tactical on the screen, Kelly. Let's see them."
"Aye, sir."
The crowded suns of Caracalla vanished, replaced by computer-generated images. The edge of the star cluster appeared as a mass of lighted points arrayed in a tumbled confusion at the edge of the screen. A red blip approached the squadron's position at the center of the screen.
"Ops, backtrack their course and lay it in on the screen, will you?"
"Coming up, Skipper." A line appeared on the screen, together with lines of data on course, angle, bearing, and speed.
"Oh no dear God..." Morganen said.
"No Commonwealth fleet would be coming from that direction," Kendric agreed.
"They're following the same course we took to get here, Captain. They're following us!"
"Looks that way."
"What now? Jump for Yanulf?"
Kendric considered. "No. Not yet. They're moving slowly enough that we might be able to jump for cover and see what they do. Helm!"
"Helm, aye!"
"Bring us to zero-three-zero and accelerate. Pipe it through the squadron. Engineering!
"Aye, sir!"
"Stand by for transition. We'll make a short hop."
"Going where, sir?" Morganen asked.
"Into the cluster, Lenard. We've had enough practice dodging stars of late. And I doubt that they'll expect that of us!"
"Damn it all, Lenard. Where the hell are they?" Kendric paced the balcony, hands behind his back. Morganen watched the bridge screen impassively, arms folded across his chest.
The squadron was still in the outer reaches of the Caracalla globular cluster, and the sky seemed so jammed with stars it was difficult to see through to the space beyond. The night of any world here would be nearly as bright as day, with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of stars in the night sky gleaming with magnitudes of-1 or brighter.
Kendric and the bridge crew of the Gael Warrior had scant appreciation for the view. They were stuck there, surrounded by suns, helpless to move or even to make decisions until the Gaidheal returned to the fleet. The fifty-light year jump into the cluster had taken nearly ten hours. In that time, the approaching Imperial fleet would have dosed with the Vathlin system and gone sublight. That is, if their destination had been Vathlin, which seemed likely.
Fifty light years, of course, was far beyond the range of T-doppler, and there was absolutely no way the squadron could monitor events at Vathlin. Ops could predict the TOG force's breakout time, however, based on the T-space velocity they'd read earlier.
Once safe within the cluster, Kendric had ordered Captain Neal to take the Gaidheal back to Vathlin.
It was a dangerous assignment for the destroyer. A miscalculation < ould land Neal and his people squarely in the midst of the Imperial lleet there. The Gaidheal's mission was to drop from T-space at the very fringes of the Vathlin system, where they would watch and listen. 11 would take the ship ten hours more to return to Vathlin, by which time t li<-1 mperial fleet could have decided there was nothing there and have gone on.
If the TOG ships were still at Vathlin, they would probably detect the Gaidheal's approach with their own T-dopplers, but they would have no way of being sure where the destroyer would exit T-space. Neal could drop out of T-space on the fringes of the system, recording and analyzing what he could. The radar, light, radio, and infrared data he accumulated would be hours old, of course, depending on how far from the TOG forces he emerged. The information would at least tell him whether the TOG fleet appeared to be settling in for a long stay, whether they were accelerating for departure, or whether they were already gone.
As quickly as possible, the Gaidheal would reverse course, accelerate, and jump once more. The plan called for her to take a two-part jump back to the rendezvous, so that if the TOG forces spotted the destroyer, they would not be able to pinpoint the waiting Gael fleet's position. Allowing for the time necessary to maneuver at Vathlin, to record the necessary scanner information, and to make two i -space jumps back to the fleet, the Gaidheal should return to make her report some fifty-six hours after she left.
She was nearly three hours overdue.
"We could send another ship in, sir," Morganen said. His eyes showed pain, and Kendric remembered that the Gaidheal had once been his ship. He had known Neal and the others as ship brothers.
"No, Lenard. Wait another sixty hours?" And risk losing another ship? We' re down to five now, not counting the transports... half what we started out with! "No. We'll wait another... ma
ke it ten hours. After that time, if we still haven't heard, we'll jump for Yanulf."
Morganen nodded, his eyes on the screen.
In any case, standing up here stewing about it is going to do nothing for the crew's morale. Or mine. I need to rest.
"I'm going to my quarters, Len. Call me if anything happens."
"Of course, Captain."
"Neal's a good man. He'll make it through if anyone can."
"I know."
Though Kendric had been on the bridge twelve hours straight, he was glad to find T.C. waiting for him in his quarters. Later, she drew him close and said softly, "Ken, you've got to let go. You've done all you could."
He inhaled her fragrance, drew her closer to him. "My responsibility..." he mumbled. "I've lost half our fleet... and for what? So many people..."
"Keep it in perspective, Ken. You've lost...what? Two corvettes, a frigate, and a destroyer."
"I've lost 400 men."
"Out of over 2,000. And you've saved the transports, and the thousands of people aboard them. All of us, all of us owe you our lives.. .and our freedom."
"If we make it."
"Ken! You can't give in now! We're almost there! One short jump to Yanulf, and we'll be home free, even if we don't make contact with the Commonwealth here!"
He sighed, released her, and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "I know. That's what was getting to me, the idea that I shouldn't have sent the Gaidheal back there. We should have just cut and run for Yanulf."
"All right. So maybe you made a bad decision. No one is expecting you to be perfect." When he turned his head to look at her, T.C. added, "We simply expect you to lead."
He reached out and drew her to him again. Their embrace was interrupted by the chirrup of the intraship tone above the bed. "Captain to the Bridge!" Munro's voice said. "Captain to the Bridge!"
He reached out and touched a switch. "Fraser here. What is it?"
"Gaidheal, Captain. She's inbound. We spotted her on T-doppler and confirmed when she dropped out of T-space. We just got our first transmission from her. And she has news!"
William Keith Renegades Honor Page 45
