Her lips twitched at the sour thought. She’d known Samuel Piece couldn’t stay with her. Of course she’d known that. But it had been nice to have someone sharing her bed for a week ... she shook her head in irritation. It wasn’t as if it was hard finding partners in the Solar Union. The datanet ensured that people could meet other people for anything from a casual hook-up to a long-term affair, that people with odd tastes could meet people who shared those tastes. Hameeda wondered, idly, if LinkShip pilots would eventually count as their own fetish. It wasn’t as if there were very many of them.
A low tone ran through the ship. Hameeda looked up as a red icon appeared on the holographic display. She tensed, before realising that it was just a freighter making its way into the system. Her sensors would continue to track it, just in case the freighter was towing something larger and nastier, but she doubted it posed any real threat. The ship’s crew probably hadn't heard the next couple of systems had fallen. They were going to get a shock when they dropped out of FTL and saw the defences around the gravity point. She smiled coldly, wondering just what the defenders would say to them. They’d probably be told to return home and stay out of the firing line.
Unless the locals want to evacuate a few hundred people, Hameeda mused. She was surprised her sensors hadn’t picked up more freighters or even interplanetary transports. Either they’d already fled or they simply hadn’t been there. It wasn’t as if the system attracted much notice. It was torn between being on the gravity point chain and being almost useless, the former ensuring the system wouldn’t draw much attention from those who lived on the wrong side of the law. The freighter might be seized as soon as it drops out of FTL.
She made her way to her cabin and closed her eyes, drawing on her implants to get some sleep. She knew she’d regret it later - and she certainly shouldn’t come to depend on it - but she had to rest before all hell broke loose. Her awareness seemed to flicker - it was hard to believe, somehow, that she’d actually slept - and she sat up, feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all. If she hadn’t known it was impossible, she would have thought the displays were playing tricks on her. Her body was insisting, loudly, that she hadn’t slept at all. She didn’t start to feel better until she’d taken a shower and dried herself thoroughly.
The display updated her as she ate her breakfast, swallowing cereal with coffee so strong it felt like acid. The enemy freighter had dropped out of FTL near the gravity point and vanished. It didn’t look as if the ship had flown to the other gravity point in realspace ... she guessed the ship had been seized, although it was impossible to be sure. It was vaguely possible the ship had transited, although it would have jumped right into Admiral Teller’s fleet. The poor bastards might have been blown away before they had a chance to explain themselves.
She checked the time again, then made her way back to the command centre. Her chair was calling to her. She sat down and pulled the helmet down, her mind expanding back into the neural net. She felt alive again ... she gritted her teeth, remembering all the horror stories about virtual reality and direct brain stimulation. They weren’t exaggerated, she reminded herself. She’d been through a dozen screenings to confirm she didn’t have an addictive personality, but her counsellors had warned her that was no guarantee she wouldn’t get addicted. The direct neural interface was more powerful than a simple teenage-friendly VR implant. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that the real world was actually real.
Which is probably why they didn’t hook me permanently into the ship, she thought. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but one that had to be faced. They wanted me to remain grounded.
The LinkShip hummed into life. Hameeda performed one final passive sweep, then glided back towards the gravity point. A handful of extra energy signatures glowed in her mind’s eye, the freighter and a number of smaller clusters. It looked as though they were bolting missile pods to the freighter’s hull, turning it into a weapons platform that wouldn’t - normally - stand a chance in hell of surviving more than a few seconds in a real battle. She guessed they were hoping to give themselves a little extra punch when Admiral Teller smashed his way into the system. Who knew? Golden BB hits did happen and the human ships would be appearing in a precisely-defined sphere. There would be no hope of a mobile battle, not near a gravity point. The first few seconds would be defined by who threw the most punches in a very short space of time.
But that isn’t entirely true, any longer, she mused. The laws of war had changed - and were still changing. The Tokomak were playing catch-up in a universe that no longer bent to their every whim. And they haven’t yet realised it.
She ran through a handful of simulations as she circled the gravity point, carefully logging the positions of every starship and weapons platform in the enemy formation. It was harder to see the mines, but it looked as if they hadn’t had time to change positions. The enemy doctrine called for altering their positions every so often, yet ... she smiled again. Right now, the enemy had other problems. They probably couldn’t even produce new mines in the local fabricators. It was quite possible they hadn’t been able to produce antimatter warheads for their mines.
And if they’re just nukes, they can be taken out without detonating them, Hameeda thought, grimly. It was to be hoped, definitely. They certainly don’t look to be anything more than antimatter pods.
Her orders appeared in front of her, insisting it was time to begin. Hameeda let out a breath, wishing she could trust Admiral Teller to have everything ready to move when he received her second drone. The orders made perfect sense, on paper, but she was uncomfortably aware that too much could go wrong. Better to test the theory here, Admiral Teller had said, than in some star system where the enemy had enough firepower to stop him if something did go wrong. And yet ... she felt uncomfortably exposed, naked mentally as well as physically. She took one final look at the enemy positions, reminding herself that she wasn’t in great danger. It was others who would pay the price for her mistakes.
The second drone glimmered in her mind’s eye as she pushed it into space, using her automated systems to shove it along a ballistic trajectory. In theory, it should be less noticeable than a piece of space dust. The last one hadn’t been detected, she reminded herself once again. Unless the enemy had decided to let the drone through ... no, that made no sense. The enemy would have changed its deployments, at the very least, if it had any reason to think an attacking force knew precisely where to aim. And now ...
She watched the drone as best as she could, trying to take a little reassurance from the simple fact she could barely track the drone, even though she knew precisely where to look. She kept watching, noting the moment it vanished. The tiny flicker of gravity emissions came a few seconds later, marking the jump. The enemy fleet didn’t seem to react, even though it was the second such pulse in less than a day. Hameeda let out a long breath, then turned her attention to the work crews swarming the freighter. It was unlikely they would see her - she was too far away to be seen with the naked eye - but their emissions might accidentally reveal her presence. If the enemy got lucky ... very lucky.
And now we wait, she thought. She was achingly aware of time passing. Each second felt like an hour. I hope that Admiral Teller is on the ball.
Chapter Fourteen
Admiral Colin Teller knew, without false modesty, that he lacked the killer instinct so highly prised by his fellows. They would charge into the very flames of hell itself for victory, heedless of the risks; they would expend hundreds of ships and thousands of lives for gains that might be largely meaningless. Fighting intensive battles for worthless tracts of interstellar waste or systems of little real value was pointless, in his opinion. It was better to pick and choose one’s battles if it was at all possible, to make sure that tactical victory didn’t lead to strategic defeat.
He stood in the CIC of SUS Implacable and studied the monitor, bracing himself. The tactic had looked good in simulators, but just about every tactic looked good in simulators. Colin had
seen quite a few disastrous engagements wargamed thoroughly, only for reality to outdo their worst predictions. But he had to admit the concept was sound and, at worst, he could pull back and conduct a more conventional campaign. Admiral Stuart wouldn’t be happy - she wanted him to grab the bastards by the neck and shake them - but he wasn’t going to throw lives away if it could be avoided. A steady march towards Tokomak Prime would be just as alarming as a series of one-sided battles fought and won with new concepts and technologies.
Commander Karan Bridgewater glanced up from her console. “Admiral, the drone transited the gravity point,” she said. “I’m downloading the targeting data now.”
Colin nodded, curtly. The problem with mounting a full-fledged gravity point assault was that it was very difficult, almost impossible, to get solid data on the other side of the point without alerting the enemy. The Tokomak had never solved the problem, although they’d never needed to. They’d just funnelled hundreds of minor warships through the gravity points, clearing them with brute force. Humanity, with fewer ships and fewer expendable allies, had come up with a more elegant solution. The stealth drones - really nothing more than tiny jump drives mounted on a missile shell - were supposed to be the answer. He hoped the researchers were right, for once. In his experience, few concepts ever worked so well in real life as they did in the simulations.
The display lit up, showing an enemy force resting near the gravity point. Colin allowed himself a cold smile, even as he reminded himself not to get overconfident. The data was already a few minutes out of date. If the Tokomak had realised the drone had made transit, they’d be flash-waking their systems and altering position as quickly as possible. A timer appeared beside the enemy icons, counting the seconds as the computers tried to predict enemy positions. Colin knew not to trust the projections. The variables mounted up so rapidly, they quickly became nothing more than guesswork.
“Order the first wave of pods to launch,” he said. There was no more time. “And ready the first squadron for the offensive.”
“Aye, Admiral.” Karan tapped her console. “Pods jumping ... now.”
Colin leaned forward as the green icons vanished through the gravity point. The Tokomak were famously conservative - it was regularly joked that they’d stolen the wheel off some long-gone alien race - but it still surprised him they’d never invented assault pods for themselves. There had been a time when they’d been competing with other races on even terms, hadn’t there? They couldn’t have deployed such vast fleets and accepted such huge losses before they’d become the undisputed masters of the universe. Maybe they’d quietly buried all traces of the technology once they’d invented the stardrive, he decided. They wouldn’t want to give potential enemies anything that might be more of a threat to the Tokomak than the enemies themselves.
“The pods will be launching now,” Karan said, quietly. “Admiral ...?”
“Order the first squadrons to jump, as planned.” Colin felt a stab of guilt he wasn’t going with them. “And then move up the second units.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
***
Hameeda watched, feeling the urge to whoop in delight, as the first assault pods materialised on the gravity point and started to open fire. The missiles roared out, aimed straight at the enemy ships. Hameeda smiled coldly - the targeting wouldn’t have been that accurate without the information she’d sneaked through the gravity point - and allowed her eyes to follow the missiles as they streaked through the minefield and fell on their targets. The Tokomak had had their automated servants on alert, ready to engage sudden threats, but their crews weren’t ready. She felt her smile grow wider as missiles overwhelmed their shields and slammed into their hulls. The entire enemy squadron was wiped out before it had a chance to fire a single shot.
Take that, you bastards, she thought. The Tokomak had fought hundreds of one-sided battles in the past. It had never occurred to them that someone would find a way to do the same to them. It’s only going to get worse from here.
She watched the first wave of human ships materialise on the gravity point, their weapons and sensors already scanning for targets. The mines started to move, gliding towards the human ships. They were rapidly blasted out of space before they got into attack range, the tiny explosions confirmation the enemy hadn’t had time to produce hundreds of antimatter mines. Hameeda didn’t think any of the attacking ships were as much as scratched as they punched through the remainder of the minefield and plunged into clear space. She hastily sent them her IFF, a reminder she was friendly. She didn’t fear death, but being blown away by her own side would be embarrassing.
Her lips tightened as the second squadron arrived, slipping into a scanning formation as they circled the gravity point. Admiral Teller was moving with deliberate speed, rather than rushing his ships to the second gravity point. She understood the logic - the admiral wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to be caught by surprise - but it seemed pointless. The Tokomak could have hid an entire fleet in interplanetary space, powered down and beyond detection unless the humans got very lucky. She didn’t think so - they could have deployed a much more effective defence, if they’d had more ships and weapons to play with - but it was impossible to be sure. She allowed herself a flash of frustration. Admiral Teller should be moving faster. She was tempted to send him a message urging him to hurry up.
Which would probably get me shoved in front of a court martial board, she thought, wryly. That would be tricky, if she couldn’t leave the LinkShip. They’d have to hold the inquest in her territory. And he does want them to have time to notice.
She sighed as she surveyed the entire system. A handful of messages were being beamed towards the second gravity point, but there were no more freighters making a run for it. The system seemed utterly quiet, almost dead. Even the planet was shutting down. She eyed the icon in her mind’s eye warily, wondering just what was hidden on the planet. They’d have to find out, once the fighting was over. Who knew? A new weapon? A research program that couldn’t be carried out somewhere safer, somewhere further from the front lines? It wasn’t as if the Tokomak were short of options. They could have carried out the research on Tokomak Prime itself.
A third wave of ships materialised on the gravity point. She spotted Implacable amongst the fleet and scowled. Admiral Teller had finally arrived. She knew it was low of her to consider him a slowcoach, or perhaps a coward, but ...she shook her head. Admiral Teller had nothing to prove, not to her. A man couldn’t reach high rank in the Solar Navy without genuine combat experience. Admiral Mongo Stuart had set it up that way, citing his experiences with wet navies on Earth. Too many commanding officers who didn’t know what they were doing had caused all sorts of problems, some utterly disastrous. Admiral Teller was slow, but he wasn’t incompetent.
And we don’t want to push them too hard, she mused. Not yet.
***
The system was barren, almost lifeless. The display showed a handful of asteroids settlements that seemed to have powered themselves down completely, settlements that would have been unnoticed if they hadn’t been listed in the captured files. Colin wondered, absently, if the Tokomak hadn’t realised they’d lost the files. It wasn’t as if settlement data was highly classified, with strict orders for burning the files before they could be read. The data had been stored in unencrypted datacores ...
He put the thought aside as more and more ships slid through the gravity point and fell into formation. The system had been invaded, but it hadn’t been occupied. Not yet. Admiral Stuart’s orders had left it up to him, the man on the spot, if he was to land occupation troops or not. Colin suspected it would be pointless to do more than a brief survey. The system was practically worthless, unable to pose a threat to his supply lines or support an invading enemy fleet that might. He wasn’t even sure the system would be able to survive without outside help. The Tokomak might not have designed the system to be self-sufficient.
“They’ll have gotten a good look at us,”
he said, slowly. It was impossible to be sure, but he was fairly certain the enemy would have gotten off a message before they’d been blown to hell. And there would be a picket, if not a bigger force, sitting on the second gravity point. “How much did they see?”
Karan looked up. “Unknown, sir.”
Colin smiled - it had been a rhetorical question - then returned to his thoughts. If the enemy knew what had happened to their ships, what would they do? Tighten the defences on the next gravity point? Or ... or what? He didn’t know, but he’d have to find out. Smashing through the next gravity point would open up all sorts of possibilities, forcing him to make some hard decisions. Not, he supposed, that they were the really hard decisions. He already knew where the fleet was going, unless they ran into something so hard they had to stop.
“Dispatch Force Two to seal the second gravity point,” he ordered. He’d given the enemy quite enough time. They’d have to be extremely incompetent not to take advantage of it. And he didn’t want them thinking too hard about why he’d given them the time. “Force Three is to remain on this gravity point until the remainder of the fleet is through.”
He leaned back in his chair, silently bracing himself. “And Force One will proceed directly to the planet.”
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