by Peter Kenson
"Aye aye, sir."
"Frank, how close are we to the exact rendezvous point?"
"Smack on the nose, sir. We've taken positional fixes and Navigation estimate the probable error to be point six noughts one."
"Ok. Let's give the ship a little exercise. Take a fix on this position and then pull us back out of range of the Andromeda's probe when she checks the rendezvous point. Don't take us too far out because I want to be able to jump back in here, in between the probe reporting the area clear and the Andromeda arriving, so that we can be in position to challenge the arriving ship."
"What if we miss the probe and the Andromeda sneaks in here ahead of us? Those probes are pretty small and we don't know when the Andromeda is going to show up. We can't keep the men on full alert indefinitely, sir."
"The Andromeda's coming from New London, right? Get the TacAn computers to plot her probable course and plant some remote sensors to cover the cone of her predicted approach. When we pick her up on one of the remotes, we will know she is just the one jump away and we can start the intensive scanning of the rendezvous area for the probe. Until then, you can stand the men down."
***
It was three hours later that the Andromeda came. She registered on two of the remotes almost simultaneously as she burst through into normal space. The comms technician monitoring the remote sensors let out an excited yell.
"She's coming. She's coming."
Mikael looked across in amusement as Lieutenant Garcia, the duty Comms Officer, berated the enthusiastic technician. "Stop that yelling and make a proper report, man."
"Sorry, sir. I've got a strong reading on Remote 3 and on Remote 4, sir. It looks fairly big; almost certainly a ship of some description. I'm feeding the signals through to Analysis now, sir."
"That's better. Carry on." Garcia turned to Mikael. "Sir...."
"Yes, I heard, Georges. I expect most of the ship heard. Put the signal through to the tank, please."
An orange dot appeared in the tank indicating an unidentified ship about 20 light years away from the Cleopatra. After a few seconds, it changed to a flashing green.
"Contact positively identified as an Imperial Frigate, sir," Garcia formally reported.
"Thank you. Pull all of the remotes out of there now. We don't want to tip her off that she's been spotted.
"Frank, bring the ship back to full alert and start scanning for that probe."
Twenty minutes later the probe showed up on the scanners. The Cleopatra had pulled back to almost the maximum distance at which the scanners could be expected to pick up an object as small as the probe. In the Operations Room, the screens were being monitored by the most experienced technicians in the crew, and even then the first contact was nothing more definite than a feeling in the gut of the Chief Technician. It took several seconds of computer analysis to confirm that there was a positive contact there.
"We have contact with the probe, sir," Frank reported. "How long should we wait before we move in?"
"Let's give them five minutes to complete a full spherical scan. Then, say, another five minutes to set up the jump. Power shouldn't be a problem for them. It's only a short jump so we can't afford to wait too long. The probe's been there about a minute already. We'll give them another six minutes and then go in."
"Aye aye, sir."
The Cleopatra's jump was already set up, so all they had to do was wait and hope that Mikael's guesswork was correct. Long minutes passed and the Andromeda still had not appeared. Mikael gave the order to jump into the rendezvous point and, as soon as they broke through, brought the corvette up to full cruising speed.
As is often the case in such situations where chance takes a hand, the Andromeda emerged into normal space in the most awkward spot possible from Mikael's point of view; almost directly astern of the Cleopatra and heading away from her. He slewed the Cleopatra round in the tightest turn of which she was capable in order to come up behind the frigate. Despite the anti-gravity screens, every man of the crew felt themselves forced sideways and down, pressed into their seats or against the nearest bulkhead, as the little corvette demonstrated her manoeuvrability.
The Andromeda was not transmitting any IFF signal and showed no outward signs of being aware of a warship approaching her stern, so Mikael felt quite justified in issuing a strident challenge on all frequencies, to the unidentified ship. The effect was electric: whatever her state of preparedness, the Captain of the Andromeda could certainly react swiftly to new situations. She lurched sideways under a maximum acceleration turn and immediately dived in a corkscrewing motion to get away from the pursuing ship.
The Cleopatra managed to stay with the frigate through the initial turn but could not match her manoeuvrability through the corkscrew. On every turn she slipped a few degrees further behind the Andromeda, who now also began to pile on the power and accelerate away. Someone on the frigate eventually noticed that they were not sending an IFF signal and switched it on, and at that point Mikael decided to call off the pursuit.
"Make a signal to the Captain of the Andromeda. 'We give you best in the chase. Unfortunately, you were blown out of space before the chase began. Sorry about that.'
"Frank, once we're on our own again, I want to practice that pursuit manoeuvre. The Andromeda may have the edge for speed, but we shouldn't have lost her on the turns."
"I'll program one of the probes to simulate the Andromeda's manoeuvres, sir. All of the necessary information will have been stored in the main databanks."
"Message coming through from Andromeda, sir. 'Nice approach but don't overestimate the power of your lasers. Incidentally, you seem to have mislaid one of them. Have you had some trouble?'"
"Make to Andromeda. 'Just sloppy installation work. Repairs in hand, thank you. Have you some cargo for us?'"
The Andromeda had stopped corkscrewing by this time and was reducing speed sufficiently for the Cleopatra to pull alongside, two kilometres away and on a parallel course.
"Message from Andromeda, sir. 'Party of seven to come across. Please stand by.'"
The Andromeda was showing on the main bridge viewscreen and, as Mikael watched, a series of twinkling dots emerged through her rear airlock and headed out across the intervening gap.
"Frank, you'd better go down to receive our guests. Have the men stow their gear on the forward messdeck and show the officer commanding up to the bridge."
The Imperial Guard were the elite of the Emperor's Armed Forces. Originally they were the Emperor's personal bodyguard and still performed that duty at official functions with an efficiency and precision that was renowned throughout the Galaxy. But it was on the field of battle that they had really earned their fearsome reputation. The list of their Battle Honours read like a gazetteer of the Galaxy. Everywhere that there had been serious trouble, the Imperial Guards had been sent in and had acquitted themselves with honour. Even on those rare occasions when they had not been victorious, they had inflicted terrible losses on the enemy.
The Regiment had its own training school and the entrance requirements were stringent and strictly applied. Money and influence might get young hopefuls to the front of the queue of those waiting to be tested but from there on, they were on their own. All prospective entrants, officers and men, were subject to a rigorous physical examination, followed by three full days of psychometric profiling to assess everything from stability under fire to leadership potential. Even then, the dropout rate from the first year of training school was over 30 percent.
For those who stayed the course, the Regiment became their life. It looked after them and their families, not only during their tour of duty, but even after they had retired from active service. Many of the Guard only served one five-year tour of duty and then left, putting their discipline and training, if not their combative skills, to use in civilian life. The Regiment was quite content to see them go and to continue to pay their pensions and, as a result, ex-guardsmen were now scattered the length and breadth of the Galaxy.
Their existence meant that, wherever the Imperial Guard was sent, in often no more than platoon strength, they were sure to see a friendly face; maybe a comfortable billet, or maybe a source of information.
Many more of the Guard stayed for several tours of duty, and it was the experience of these veterans, in many different types of conflict, that helped make the Imperial Guard such a feared fighting unit. The training they received was second to none, and so was the equipment they used. Every man was as equipped and able to fight in deep space as in a planetary environment, so the larger warships always carried a complement of Guardsmen although smaller ships, like the Andromeda and the Cleopatra, would not normally have enough room.
The detachment of seven now jetting across to the Cleopatra, represented a formidable amount of fire-power. The standard issue laser rifles which they carried, were powered by miniature fusion cells strapped to their backs, and could be adjusted from pulse to beam operation at the flick of a switch. In beam mode, they were capable of burning a one centimetre hole through 25 centimetre ceramic armour plate, at a distance of 10 kilometres. In pulse mode, the energy which they released, was capable of destroying the power and electrical systems of an unshielded tank or small space craft.
Each guardsman had a personally tailored suit of Biridium space armour, fitted over a thin coverall made out of the latest environmental control fabric. These fabrics could be programmed during manufacture, to maintain on the inside, a very narrow range of temperature, whatever the conditions outside. Thus, the Guard could operate in a large number of otherwise hostile environments; from the intense cold of deep space, to the searing heat found on some inner planets.
The helmets they used were packed with electronics for sensing, analysis and display. The helmet could provide a full visual image using either normal light or infrared, and had an audio pick-up range that went both below and well above, the normal range of the human ear. There was a target acquisition system built in which gave a head-up display of data for tracking purposes. Finally, there was a sophisticated communications network providing links not only to the local command and between the individual members of the squad, but also, in an emergency and by using the power of the fusion cell, direct to the Regimental HQ.
One solitary guardsman was, therefore, a self-contained fighting unit wielding tremendous destructive power on his own account, but also able to call up support at either a local or regimental level. Because of this, it was rarely necessary to deploy the Guard in more than platoon strength, and often an individual guardsman was sufficient to deal with a situation. On one historic occasion during the Canine Insurrection, two guardsmen completely suppressed a rebellion by 6000 armoured militia in the system of Rongal.
That the High Command had despatched a squad of seven guardsmen on this mission, was, therefore, a point of some amazement to Mikael. Just how big a situation was the Cleopatra being thrust into. He watched as the twinkling dots approached the ship and resolved themselves into armoured figures. It would be crowded on the forward messdeck with the six extra guardsmen and all their equipment. Two of his junior officers would also have to bunk in together to free a cabin for the Guards Officer. He hoped that the operation would not take too long as tempers could easily become frayed in overcrowded conditions.
"Bosun reports that all seven guardsmen are safely on board, sir. The airlock is being recycled."
"Thank you. Make a signal to Andromeda. 'Transfer successfully completed. Would like to stop and chat, but we must be off. Some other time, maybe.'"
He gave the orders to head for the second rendezvous point and watched as the Cleopatra swung away from the frigate and started preparations for a jump.
"Message from Andromeda, sir. 'Pleasure doing business with you. Goodbye and good luck, little friend.'"
One of the entrances to the bridge irised open and Frank came through leading the Guards Officer. He had removed his space armour and donned instead, the splendid uniform of a full Lieutenant in the Imperial Guard. Frank led him over to the commander's console where Mikael was standing.
"Sir, I have the officer commanding the Guards detachment here. Captain Boronin, this is His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Gerald of Serta."
CHAPTER 12
The Phoenix stood alone on Andes spacefield, just about as far from the Terminal and Administration buildings as it was possible for the Authorities to put it. The idea of allowing such a rusty old hulk to set down alongside the sleek and gleaming ships which now commonly visited Andes, was more than the Spaceport Authorities could bear. If it had not been an emergency, they might well have refused permission for the Phoenix to land at all.
Andes was a very much larger and more important spaceport than Floreat, lying as it did, not only on the major trade route N3E, but also at the confluence of two minor trade routes. As a consequence, Andes had an important role as an interchange station for passengers and cargo between the different routes. While the facilities on Floreat were mostly recreational, catering for the tourist trade, many of the hotels clustered around the Andean spacefield were designed for business travellers who stayed for a night or two, awaiting their onward connection. Within the spaceport complex, there were extensive bonded warehousing facilities for cargo which also had to be stored awaiting onward shipment.
Unlike the Aldebaran, which was a luxury liner for passenger use only, the majority of ships which plied the various trade routes, were adapted to carry both passengers and cargo. The concessions made to passengers on some of the basic freighters, were fairly minimal, but they represented the only regular connection to some of the more remote systems. Between the larger and more populous systems there was usually a scheduled passenger and freight service, but whatever the size or type of ship, they always called at Andes.
And so the Phoenix had been tucked away, as nearly out of sight as possible, to await a repair crew from the giant Palatine shipyard on Bosphorus. Three crew from the Salamander had already been despatched to connect with the next transport coming in from the direction of Bosphorus, and pretend to be shipyard mechanics. Once on Andes, they would proceed to repair the Phoenix; a job which would take at least twenty minutes. Their orders, however, were to stretch the repair into nearer 24 hours and then announce that they would have to take the Phoenix back to Bosphorus for further investigation. It was anticipated that the Authorities on Andes would be only too glad to see the back of the decrepit old freighter and would not ask too many embarrassing questions of the repair crew.
The Blue Star Streak Group, meanwhile, were assembled in a room in one of the business class hotels on the edge of the spacefield. Corin had already visited the Information Desk in the Terminal building and collected the waiting messages. There were two of them. One was from David and Marienna, describing the events at Floreat spaceport, and the changed game plan. The other message was from Khan, giving all the known information about their fellow travellers who would be joining the Aldebaran at Andes or who had joined at Floreat. All of the ones from Floreat were clean or, at least, had nothing recorded against the identities which they were using. As far as the Centre was concerned, they were all model citizens of the Empire. Even Morten M. Jorgensen, who for some reason had caught David's eye on board the liner and on whom the Centre had been requested to run a double check, had come up with nothing more serious than a handful of traffic violations on his home planet. He owned a small chemical business on Quental and travelled to Floreat several times a year on company business. He had just completed a sales promotion and was now apparently returning home.
The list of those joining at Andes was longer than that from Floreat, but it was here that they got their first break. There were 63 names on the list, including Corin and the five members of the Blue Star Streak Group. Of the 57 other names on the list, there was nothing recorded against 56 of them, but one name had set the bells ringing at the Centre. Stefan Pulowski was known to be an associate of one of the largest black market arms suppliers in this sector of the
Galaxy. Neither he nor his boss had ever been convicted of any crime, but they been put under surveillance a few years back as part of an investigation into a shipment of laser cannons which eventually turned up in Vostov.
"So," Corin said, when they had finished going through the lists. "We seem to have just the one possibility: Stefan Pulowski. It's now 10:08. The shuttle from the Aldebaran is due to touch down at 17:45. That gives us just under 8 hours to find him and see what we can learn. The passengers for the shuttle will probably not start arriving at the Terminal until mid-afternoon, so if we stake out the entrances, we should pick him up as he comes in.
"It's a certainty that he won't be operating alone. The opposition will have sent in a team for this job, so watch who he speaks to, or simply for any sign of recognition. We'll operate in teams of two; Tessa and Carly, you'll be team 1; Cerys and Brianey, team 2; Zara and myself will be team 3. Teams 1 and 2 will go straight to the Terminal building now, and find yourselves positions from which you can observe the entrances. Zara and I will check the local hotels, see if we can pick him up there and, if we get lucky, find out what the hotel staff can tell us about his visitors. If we can't track him down, we'll join you at the Terminal no later than 15:00. Any questions?"
He looked round at each girl in turn but got no response.
"Ok then. You've each got a copy of Pulowski's photograph and description. Off you go and good luck."
When the four girls had left the room, Zara spoke up.
"Corin, you go ahead with the hotel check; that was a good idea. I want to go back to the Phoenix and get Sam to do some research for me. Is that ok?"
Although Lord David had put him in charge of the group, Corin knew better than to stand in Zara's way. If she had her own line of enquiry to pursue, the odds were that it was likely to be as productive as anything he could suggest.
"Sure, that'll be fine. I can manage the hotel check on my own. We can meet up again in the Terminal, say at the Information desk at 15:00. Will that give you enough time?"
