There are too many moving parts in this plan, he thought, sourly. They’d simplified the original concept as much as possible, but he was glumly aware that too much could still go wrong. She might never make it to Wolfbane.
He shook his head, firmly. They’d gone through a multitude of contingency plans. Jasmine would hijack a freighter, if necessary, if there was no other way to leave Calomel. And then she’d head straight back to the Commonwealth to report failure. It wouldn't sit well with her - it wouldn't sit well with any of them - but at least they’d know. They could start coming up with a new plan ...
And even that will take time, he thought. It might be months before we knew the full story - and by then, the enemy might have mounted a counterattack of their own.
He leaned forward, pressing his face against the transparent material. The remainder of the squadron was out there somewhere, but the starships were invisible against the darkness. It was easy to believe that Defiant was alone, that he was standing in the only safe place for hundreds of light years ... he sighed, remembering one of the more tedious lectures he’d endured at OCS. Humanity simply couldn't comprehend the distances between star systems, the lecturer had insisted. Modern technology had only made it worse.
Ed nodded, slowly. Alexander the Great had built an empire, but it had barely been half the size - and far less developed - than the Roman Empire. And the Roman Empire had been tiny compared to the British Empire. And the British Empire would have vanished without trace when compared to the first interstellar empires. And yet ... those empire-builders, he thought, would have understood the problem he faced. They’d often had to wait weeks or months for answers to their questions ...
He scowled. Two people on Earth - or Avalon - could hold a real-time conversation easily, thanks to the wonders of technology. But as the gulf between them grew wider - if one person was standing on Earth and the other on Mars - it took longer and longer to send a message and wait for a reply. The Grand Senate had needed over a year to send a message to Avalon and receive a reply. They hadn't been able to micromanage and they’d hated it.
Which didn't stop them from trying, he thought, ruefully. He’d known commanding officers who’d glanced at the messages, then done whatever they thought best anyway. The really good ones had been able to conceal their defiance long enough to actually win the war ... although it had never lasted. There had always been someone willing to betray them for money or rank. They ruined the Empire because they refused to let the man on the spot make his decisions.
It was more than that, he knew. The Grand Senate had been so used to instant communications - on Earth - that they’d never really comprehended the gulf between the stars. They should have done, he thought, but ... most of them had never left the Sol System, never even ventured as far as the moon. They’d never quite grasped the immensity of interplanetary space, let alone interstellar ... they hadn't realised just how badly they were hampering themselves.
That won’t happen to us, he promised himself. We’ll learn from the past.
He smiled. What had Professor Leo Caesius said?
“Those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it,” he’d said. “Those who do learn from the past are condemned to watch helplessly as others repeat it.”
But we’re not helpless, Ed thought. He’d worked hard to make sure that Avalon and the Commonwealth understood the mistakes of the past. We can ensure that the same mistakes are not repeated.
And come up with new ones instead, his thoughts mocked him. Who knows what will change as technology advances again?
His wristcom bleeped. “Colonel,” Gwendolyn Patterson said. “We completed the preliminary set of combat tests. We’re a little rusty.”
Ed nodded, curtly. His company - or what was left of it - hadn't fought as a unit for nearly five years. He’d deployed platoons to reinforce the Knights or fight behind enemy lines, but nothing more complex. Marines were good, the best of the best, but even they got rusty when they didn't have a chance to exercise. Stalker’s Stalkers would be in trouble if the Corps Inspector ever paid them a visit.
If the Corps Inspectorate still exists, Ed thought. The Slaughterhouse was gone ... he had no idea what had happened to Major General Jeremy Damiani and the remainder of the Terran Marine Corps. He didn't want to consider the likelihood that he might be the senior surviving marine in the entire galaxy, but he had to admit it was possible. We might be the only combat unit left intact.
He told himself, firmly, that it was unlikely. But the thought kept gnawing at his mind.
“I’m on my way,” he said. He was a little rusty too, if he was forced to be honest. He’d spent too much time behind a desk and too little on the field. He was still fit, still healthy, but he’d started to slip. “We’ll run through the basic set of exercises again.”
“Aye, Colonel,” Gwen said. “Your suit is waiting for you.”
Ed nodded. He needed to exercise. And besides, it would keep him from brooding.
And if the company needs to be deployed, he thought, they’d better be ready for it.
***
“I used to think that I’d never have a real career,” Midshipwoman Simone Perkins said. She struck a dramatic pose as she perched on her bed, fluffing her short blonde hair with one hand. “And now ... look at me.”
Emmanuel Alves smiled as he filmed her. Interviewing junior officers and crew wasn't the easiest job in the world - some of them were suspicious of the media while others were too trusting - but it was better than sitting in his cabin doing nothing. Besides, there was a reasonable chance that some of his interviews would become background material or even documentaries. The Commonwealth Navy didn't have a recruitment problem - now - but that might change.
“You seem a little young to be an officer,” he said. “How old were you when you joined the navy?”
“Sixteen, officially,” Simone said. She shrugged. “To be honest, I was one of the unregistered. I think I’m eighteen now, but ...”
“Your birth was never registered,” Emmanuel said. It wasn't exactly uncommon. The Old Council had recorded births to make sure they knew who was meant to be paying off their family’s debts. Several thousand children had been kept off the rolls until after the war. “Do you like the navy?”
“It’s ... different,” Simone admitted. She waved a hand at the bulkhead. “Sharing bunkspace with a dozen others isn't easy, not after growing up in the countryside. But there is a comradeship that you don't get anywhere else.”
Emmanuel looked around. He’d thought his cabin was small, but the middy bunkspace was tiny. The bunk beds looked as though they were intended for children, not grown adults. He had the feeling he couldn't have slept in one without being very uncomfortable. His legs were just too long. Simone was a little shorter, but not by much.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “What do you do every day?”
“We have a basic schedule,” Simone informed him. She shot him a flirtatious look. “What do you do every day?”
“Write stories and reports that hardly anyone will ever read,” Emmanuel said. It wasn't entirely untruthful. He had a good reputation, as far as his readers were concerned, but there was just so much news flooding the datanet that nearly everyone got flooded out. “And waiting for the exclusive that will define my career.”
“Sounds boring,” Simone said. She grinned. “But I’ve been told to enjoy boredom.”
Emmanuel nodded in agreement. Boredom was bad, but being shot at was worse. Jasmine had told him that the military life was divided between boredom and danger ... the two never really met. Simone was right. Whatever broke the boredom would be far worse. Defiant was going to war. There would be casualties, ships would be lost ... one of them might be Defiant.
Simone glanced at her wristcom. “I’m on duty in an hour,” she said. She winked. “Fancy a quickie?”
Emmanuel stared at her. He’d never been propositioned before, not like that. He honestly wasn't sure i
f she was serious or not. Hell, she might not be sure if she was serious or not. It might be a joke, a trick played on a reporter ... or it might be real. And yet ...
He shook his head. “I’m in a relationship at the moment,” he said. He wasn't even sure what the rules were, when it came to sex on ships. There was no way he was in her chain of command, but he could influence her career. “Thank you for the offer, but ...”
Simone shrugged. “You’re welcome,” she said. She didn’t sound hurt. “You do know you could be dead in the next couple of days?”
“I know,” Emmanuel said. “But if I don’t die in the next couple of days, I’ll have to live with what I’d done.”
“A common problem,” Simone said. She winked, again. He had the very definite feeling that she wasn't serious. “I’ll just go hit up one of the soldiers.”
She paused. “Don’t put that on the interview,” she added. “It’ll look bad.”
“I suppose it will,” Emmanuel said. Simone’s bunkmates might find it amusing, but her commanding officer would probably take a different view. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Thank you,” Simone said. “But you can run the rest of the interview.”
“Oh good,” Emmanuel said. “I’d hate to think you lured me here under false pretences.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Local space is clear, Admiral.”
Rani nodded as she sat in the CIC, watching the display. She knew she should rest, she knew she should be in her cabin, but she found it hard to sleep. Titlark was in an excellent position, at least for mounting offences into enemy territory, yet the oddities in the system meant that attackers could actually get quite close to the base without being detected. Indeed, if there was a major downside to the system, it was that the enemy ships might be able to withdraw if they saw the ambush before it was too late.
“Keep us under cloak,” she ordered. The enemy couldn't be allowed to know that she was waiting for them. If, of course, she was right and the enemy was heading for Titlark. She’d had plenty of time to second-guess herself during the voyage from Wolfbane. “Do we have any updates from the sensor network?”
“None,” Commander Julia Robinson reported. “There are no hints that the system is under observation.”
And that proves nothing, Rani thought. A careful spy could remain undetected indefinitely.
She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the sensation of being on a starship. There were no corporate whiners or ungrateful little brats on the battleship, just trained and experienced crewmen who understood the realities of interstellar warfare. She didn't have to worry about knives in the dark, about assassins coming to put an end to her life ... she could relax and enjoy herself while waiting for the enemy. It almost made her regret that she’d taken control of Wolfbane, after Governor Brown’s death. She'd had no choice - she would have been killed if she hadn't made a bid for the brass ring - but she still mourned what could have been.
“I assume there’s been no update from Admiral Howarth,” she said. “Or have I missed something?”
“No, Admiral,” Julia said. “He hasn't sent any update.”
Rani nodded. Admiral Howarth was the only person on Titlark Base who knew that her battle squadrons were lurking within the system. Telling him was a risk - there was no way to know if one of his staffers was a spy - yet she’d had no choice. He’d actually argued quite strenuously to be allowed to bring his defences to full alert, but Rani had vetoed it. She didn't want to discourage the enemy from attacking, after all.
Unless they bring their entire fleet, she thought. That might make things difficult.
She scowled at the thought. She’d stuffed her ships with the new weapons, but she knew - all too well - that technological concepts didn't always work out in real life. The Commonwealth might have already devised countermeasures, even if they didn't know how far her own researchers had progressed. They could hardly be blind to the implications of their own technology. Rani felt cold ice curling through her veins as she contemplated the problem. The Commonwealth was likely to have a major advantage for the foreseeable future, one that couldn't be offset easily. And if they came up with a silver bullet ...
All the more reason to end the war as quickly as possible, she mused. And that means destroying their fleet.
She rose. “Keep the fleet cycling through the training exercises,” she ordered. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Julia said.
Rani smiled as she stepped through the hatch and into the compartment. It was smaller than the office she’d taken from Governor Brown, but it felt ... safer. She sat down at the desk as the hatch hissed closed behind her, keying her terminal to bring up the latest set of reports from the courier boats. This close to the front, she could actually make decisions that might have a genuine impact on the war. The enemy had a raiding force operating in a nearby system and Admiral Howarth wanted to detach a battle squadron to deal with it. Rani considered the concept for a moment, then shook her head. It would have to wait until after the battle.
She forced herself to relax as she read the latest updates from Wolfbane, even though she knew they were three weeks out of date. Nothing had happened, yet ... more accurately, nothing had happened three weeks ago. The uncertainty was enough to drive her mad, she knew. She needed to be in too many places at once, if she wanted to stay in power indefinitely. Or she needed a partner who could actually command respect. But she didn't know who she could use who wouldn't try to unseat her ...
Or mess up the balance of power, she thought. She’d underestimated just how carefully Governor Brown had built his government. By positioning himself as the mediator, he’d secured his own position. She didn't have that option, not any longer. And allying herself closely with one of the corporations would merely unite the others against her. They won’t allow one of their competitors to build up an unchallengeable power base.
A new update blinked up on the display. A scan-sat, positioned along the edge of the fluctuating phase limit, had reported a brief flicker of energy that might - might - indicate the presence of a cloaked ship. Rani felt a flicker of excitement, mingled with the grim awareness that it might just be a random background fluctuation. Deploying the scan-sat network had been a costly gamble, even though it might have paid off. There was no way they could cover the entire star system.
And the message itself is already an hour out of date, Rani reminded herself. The enemy ship could be anywhere.
She keyed her console. “Assume it’s a real ship,” she ordered. “Run a set of passive tracking exercises - passive only. Don’t let them know we spotted them.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Julia said.
“And then deploy a set of additional sensor platforms,” Rani added. “I want to see the enemy as soon as possible.”
She closed the connection, then forced herself to think. Her instincts told her that the sensor flicker was real, even though she knew she couldn't prove it. And that meant the enemy task force had to be near. There was no point in bringing the fleet to battle stations, not yet, but she could make some preparations. The enemy wouldn't have risked detection - even though the odds were vastly against being detected - unless they were ready to move.
And then there will be no more sneaking around, she thought, as she brought up the in-system display. Just a clean honest battle against an open foe.
She smiled. She knew the risks, she knew she might not survive the day, but still ...
... She was quite looking forward to it.
***
It had been nearly two years since Mandy had last entered the Titlark System, shortly before the Wolves had attacked Thule and started the war. She’d only probed the system because she’d had a hunch the enemy might find a use for it. According to the somewhat outdated files from the Imperial Navy, Titlark had been visited once, briefly surveyed and then simply abandoned. There was nothing there, apart from a handful of asteroids and a couple of come
ts the red star had captured thousands of years ago. It might attract pirates or survivalists, but not the Imperial Navy. But, if one ignored the absence of anything usable, it was within a handful of light years of Thule.
And she’d been right, she recalled.
Titlark was odd, by any reasonable standard. A dark system circling a dull red star ... it should have been predictable. It shouldn't have had any surprises. And yet, the phase limit fluctuated, seemingly at random. The Commonwealth Navy hadn't had the time to carry out a full survey, let alone invite researchers to try to puzzle out the mystery ... as far as she knew, the Wolves hadn't bothered to do any research either. She tossed the problem over and over in her head for a long moment, then dismiss it. The mystery could wait until after the war.
Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14) Page 18
