“Yes, sir,” Howard said. “But it wasn't conclusive.”
“I see,” John said.
He sighed, inwardly. It wasn't really a surprise - the Indians would hardly have bothered to fit their spy ships with IFF transmitters that betrayed them - but it was annoying. Had there ever been a war where both sides had shared a shipyard? Nelson or Drake - even Woodward - would have reacted with horror to the thought. But the Indians had dozens of facilities orbiting the Earth, easily close enough to Nelson Base to keep an eye on the British deployments. They’d be able to watch from a distance as Warspite headed towards the tramline.
We’ll just have to evade contact as soon as we enter the Terra Nova System, he thought, grimly. If nothing else, the Indians would have real problems keeping up with Warspite. She wasn't the fastest thing in space, but it would be hard for a stealthed ship to follow her without revealing its presence. Launch a drone towards the first tramline and alter course to the second ourselves.
He keyed his console. “Engineering?”
“We’re ready, Captain,” Chief Engineer Mike Johnston reported. He sounded happy; John knew, from Howard, that he’d spent quite a bit of time on Nelson Base. “All systems are online.”
“Good,” John said. “Helm, power up the drives.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Carlos Armstrong said. A dull thrumming echoed through the cruiser as the drives came to life. “No problems, Captain; I say again, no problems. Power curves are normal.”
“Set a least-time course for Terra Nova,” John ordered. “Tactical?”
“No Indian warships within scanning range,” Lieutenant-Commander Tara Rosenberg reported. “There are, however, a number of watching ships from other nations.”
John sucked in his breath sharply as the holographic display came to life. The Turks and Brazilians - like the Indians - wanted Great Power status for themselves. They’d be watching with great interest, perhaps even covertly supporting the Indians, as the Royal Navy readied itself for war. And there were no Indian warships near Earth ... they’d left their homeland wide open, save for the protection of the Solar Treaty.
And they’re right, John thought. We don’t dare break the treaty, even though that frees up more of their warships to hold the territory they seized.
It was a galling thought. He understood the logic behind it - the human race would need the Indians if the Tadpoles restarted the war - but it was frustrating as hell. No matter what happened, the Indians couldn't be defeated completely. And they could keep producing war material and sending it out to the front, in the certain knowledge that Britain wouldn't dare to try to intercept the convoys while they were in the solar system. The consequences would be incalculable.
We don’t even dare risk sending in the Special Forces, he thought. Who knows where that will end?
He pushed the thought aside, irritated. “Inform Nelson Base that we are ready to depart,” he ordered. “And then disconnect from the station.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Gillian Forbes said, briskly. There was a pause as she worked her console. “We are cleared to depart, sir.”
John sucked in his breath, feeling a flicker of the old excitement. He was now in sole command of a warship, master of all he surveyed. Even the grim awareness that they were going to war didn't defuse his pleasure at returning to interstellar space. No more boards of inquiry, no more endless debriefings ... just a cruise well away from the Admiralty, preventing it from looking over his shoulder.
“Take us out,” he ordered, quietly.
He sat back and watched the display as Warspite slowly pulled away from Nelson Base, passing a handful of supply ships making their slow way towards Island One. A giant supercarrier - the Theodore Smith - hung close to the base, ready and waiting for the task force’s departure. Behind it, a dozen frigates and destroyers were hastily preparing themselves for war. He felt a flicker of nostalgia when he saw HMS Petunia - an escort carrier of the same class as Canopus - taking up position behind Theodore Smith. It had been over five years since he’d served on a similar vessel ...
“We’re clear of orbital space, sir,” Armstrong reported.
“No sign of pursuit,” Tara added.
“It wouldn't matter, not so close to Earth,” John said. The Indians had a communications chain leading all the way to Gandhi. It might be worth arranging for something to happen to that chain before the war began in earnest. “Helm, ramp us up to full military power and take us to the tramline.”
“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.
Warspite quivered again as the drives thrust her forward into interplanetary space. John glanced at the display, then hastily keyed out a message for Admiral Fitzwilliam. It was quite likely the Admiral’s staff had already considered the possibilities - he could see why they might want the chain to remain intact - but it was well to be sure. He finished the message and turned his attention to the display, watching the hundreds of freighters buzzing to and from the tramlines. How many of them were carrying military-grade sensors, monitoring Warspite’s movements for the Indians?
He scowled at the thought. The First Interstellar War had taught humanity the danger of placing all its eggs in one basket. Every spacefaring nation was working desperately to build up its out-system colonies, including Britain. John had even been tempted by some of the settlement grants on Britannia or Nova Scotia, although he wouldn't leave the Royal Navy unless someone dragged him out with wild elephants. The only way to secure humanity’s place in the universe was through settlement and maintaining a powerful military machine, both of which were being risked by the confrontation. In hindsight, if the Indians had claimed Great Power status at the end of the war, they might well have got what they wanted without a fight.
But if the key to being a Great Power is being so strong that no one can stop you without being destroyed themselves, he thought, the Indians wouldn't need acknowledgement to make them a Great Power. They'd have everything they needed themselves.
The minutes ticked by slowly. John kept a close eye on the status display, hoping that any problems would reveal themselves before they jumped through the tramline. But nothing happened as the tramline grew closer, a handful of starships flickering into existence ahead of Warspite as they returned from colony missions. It was quite likely that some of them were Indian ...
“Ready a drone,” he ordered, coolly. “It is to be launched the moment we pass through the tramline on an evasive course to Tramline B.”
“Aye, Captain,” Tara said.
“We will go into stealth mode and make our way to Tramline E,” John added. “Our change in course should not be noticeable.”
Unless there’s something sitting far too close to the tramline, he thought. It was paranoia, but being paranoid was the smart option when a war was underway. The Indians might have a watcher lying doggo.
Howard glanced at him. “Tramline E?”
“Yes, Commander,” John said. “Tramline E.”
He cursed the security games under his breath as the tramline grew closer. If Howard hadn't already pieced together the true nature of their mission, he’d be able to do it now. Commander Howard was his XO, his strong right arm - and his designated successor. Keeping information from him was dangerous when he might have to assume command of Warspite if something happened to John. Who knew? Howard might take the ship to Britannia on the assumption that those were the actual orders. It wouldn't be the first time security regulations keeping officers in the dark had caused serious problems.
It was a great deal easier, he reflected morbidly, when we didn't have to worry about human spies.
“Captain,” Armstrong said. “We’re approaching the tramline.”
“Drone ready,” Tara added.
“Take us through,” John ordered.
He braced himself for the brief moment of disorientation as the starship hopped through the tramline, vanishing from the Sol System and reappearing in the Terra Nova System. The display blanked out for a long chilling moment before
rebooting, displaying the local star and countless energy signatures from semi-rogue mining operations and a dozen quasi-legal settlements. It definitely looked as though the activity was starting to taper off a little, but it would be a long time before the system was under a single government. Terra Nova’s strongest export remained people in search of a more peaceful life.
“Local space is clear,” Tara reported.
It proved nothing, John knew. A starship with her drives and active sensors shut down would be completely undetectable, except at very close range. The Indians could have a watchdog spying on the tramline ... but they’d have to know, in advance, the precise coordinate where Warspite would materialise. It wasn't impossible, he knew. Just merely very unlikely.
“Launch the drone,” he ordered. “Take us into stealth mode ... now.”
“Aye, sir,” Tara said. There was a long pause. “The drone is on its way to Tramline B.”
John nodded, once. The beancounters would make a fuss - they never let a war get in the way of keeping costs as low as they could - but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the simple fact that anyone watching Warspite from a distance would track the drone on its course to Tramline B, where it would deactivate itself. They’d think that Warspite had left the system, rather than altering course to head to Tramline E. If everything went according to plan, the Indians would never know that Warspite was on her way to Pegasus.
“Set course for Tramline E,” he ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said. “Course laid in.”
“Engage,” John ordered.
He smiled to himself. Armstrong would, of course, have plotted out the course as soon as John had mentioned where they’d be going, then stored it in his console until the time came to bring it out. It was a common technique. Warspite thrummed again as she picked up speed, thrusting away from the tramline before anything else could come through and detect their presence. He sat back in his command chair and forced himself to wait, keeping a sharp eye on the passive sensors. If anyone was close enough to watch them without being detected, they’d have to reveal themselves now or lose track of Warspite.
“Commander Howard,” he said. “You have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Howard said. “I have the bridge.”
John nodded, stepped into his office and opened the secure drawer. The sealed orders were where he’d left them; he plugged the datachip into his terminal, waited for the verification program to confirm that they had left Earth far behind and then sat down to read through the orders as soon as they were unlocked and displayed. They were nothing more than a more detailed version of Admiral Fitzwilliam’s verbal instructions, he was relieved to note. It wouldn't be the first time sealed orders had differed markedly from whatever the recipient had been told beforehand.
He uploaded the orders onto the datanet, rose and walked back onto the bridge. Howard rose to his feet; John sat back down, motioned for Howard to read the orders quickly, then keyed his console. It was time to inform the crew.
“All hands, this is the Captain,” he said. Everyone would hear him, from the reporters to the SAS troopers in Marine Country. “As some of you will have surmised, we are not heading for Britannia. Our orders, instead, are to make our way to enemy-held territory and conduct a full tactical survey of their positions. This is, of course, a somewhat more challenging mission than you may have expected.”
He smiled at the thought before continuing. “We will proceed immediately up the tramlines to Pegasus and commence our mission,” he said. “As it is imperative that we remain undetected, we will remain in stealth mode from this moment on. We will not be opening communications links to anyone until we rendezvous with the remainder of the task force after completing this mission. They are depending on us to succeed.
“This is not our first operation where we had to sneak through enemy territory, but it will be the most difficult,” he added. “And yet, we have the experience to make it work. The Indians will not even catch a sniff of us before we return to the task force. I have faith in our ship - and in each and every one of you. We will complete our mission and lay the groundwork for recovering our territory.”
He keyed his console again, closing the channel. “Commander Howard,” he said. “You have read the orders?”
“Yes, sir,” Howard said. He didn't sound very surprised. “I will make a note of it in my log.”
“Thank you,” John said. He had to fight down the urge to ask just how much his XO had guessed before the sealed orders were revealed. Howard was smart; he’d probably guessed the truth long before the SAS had arrived. “Note also that the sealed orders were not disclosed ahead of time.”
“Aye, sir,” Howard said.
John settled back in his command chair and forced himself to relax, as completely as he could. It would take a fortnight, at the best speed they could manage while remaining in stealth mode, to reach Pegasus. The Indians might have pickets watching for them, he knew; if he was in command of their fleet, he would have placed at least one watching scout in J-34, one jump from Pegasus. An enemy ship advancing from Earth, thanks to the tramlines, would have to pass through that system. There was simply no way to avoid it.
But we’re very tiny and space is very big, he reminded himself. They won’t be able to spot us unless we get unlucky - or careless.
“Inform the crew that one deck is to be put aside for the SAS, once they start training,” he ordered, curtly. The presence of the SAS had been meant to be secret, although he suspected some of his crewmen had probably guessed who they were. “And make sure it’s completely sealed off.”
“Aye, sir,” Howard said.
“We'll discuss other aspects of the mission tonight,” John said. He’d have to meet with the reporters at least once, even though he would have preferred to avoid it. “But it can wait for the moment.”
He took one final look at the display, then forced himself to think about the future. The voyage would be the easy part. Hell, it would be boring once they slipped out of settled systems and away from watching eyes. But once they reached Pegasus, the real fun would begin ...
... And if the Indians were on the prowl, he knew, getting close enough to deploy the stealth shuttle would be far from easy.
Chapter Eight
HMS Warspite, In Transit
“There's someone at the door,” Stevenson called. They’d been told they could leave their cabin, once the starship had left Earth, but he’d spent most of his time just lying on the sofa. “He wants to see you.”
“Oh,” Penny said. She stood and peered out of the cabin. “Percy?”
“Penny,” Percy said. He didn't sound pleased. “Can we talk?”
Penny nodded, slowly. She had known he’d been assigned to Warspite for her first cruise, but she hadn't realised that he’d be returned to the ship after the disaster on Vesy. Meeting him was a shock ... she hesitated, wondering if they could use the bedroom, then walked out of the cabin. Percy would have to know somewhere they could go for a private chat.
“I suppose we can,” she said. “Do you know anywhere private?”
Percy nodded and led her through a maze of corridors into the observation blister. It was empty, thankfully; she ran forward and pressed her face against the transparent material, staring out into the vastness of interstellar space. Countless stars burned steadily in the darkness, their unblinking gazes calling to her. She knew, intellectually, that Warspite was making her way through space at unimaginable speeds, but it looked very much as though they were standing still. The stars didn't seem to be moving at all.
“I was surprised to see you,” she confessed, once the hatch was firmly closed. “Did you know you’d be returning to Warspite?”
“I was surprised to see you,” Percy said, gruffly. “What are you doing here?”
“My job,” Penny snapped. There were times when having an overprotective brother came in handy, but this wasn't one of them. “Witnessing living history and sending report
s back home.”
“So the enemy can read them with great interest,” Percy sneered. He had never really approved of her career choice. “Are you sure you won’t accidentally betray us?”
“Everything I write has to pass through the censors,” Penny snapped back. “It’s not my fault if they miss something that might help the Indians!”
“They’ll probably overlook tons of useful information,” Percy muttered. “I doubt they know which end of a rifle fires the bullets.”
“I’m sure the Indians do,” Penny said. “Unless you’re expecting them to commit suicide when you land on Clarke.”
Percy tensed, slightly. It would have been unnoticeable if she hadn't known him so well.
“I’m expecting hard fighting,” he said, finally. Was he planning to land on Clarke? She didn't like the thought, but it was his job. “You could get yourself killed out here.”
A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) Page 8
