And emerging from behind the forts were dozens upon dozens of Refugian gunboats, nimble little warships that carried three missiles and a bow laser, but had no armor at all.
“Well, well,” she said happily. “A little surprise for the Ducks if they come through.” She nodded briskly. “Message to all ships, activate Dark Matter Brake and hold in place pending further instructions from our hosts.”
And so they sat, until a sensors officer called: “Courier drone coming through the worm hole from Victorian space. Signal indicates an emergency message!”
Douthat looked up in alarm. Dammit, it could only be one thing: the surviving Coldstream Guards were in trouble.
On the Victorian side of the worm hole, Chief Gibson called: “They’re starting to come through!”
Emily’s relief was almost palpable. On the battle display, five ships had emerged, oriented themselves and began moving towards the Dominions. Behind them another came, then another, then two more. These, she knew, were decoy drones, not real ships, but the Dominions wouldn’t know that.
“Are the recon drones in place?” she asked Alex Rudd.
“In place and ready,” he assured her.
“Merlin, fire the chaff. Be sure to leave the line of sight to Recon Drone Number One.” They would communicate with the recon drone by needle laser and she didn’t want the chaff to block the connection.
In twenty seconds, two hundred chaff rockets launched and spread out on a predesignated matrix. When they exploded, chaff spread out to form a sensor wall between the advancing Dominion warships and the ‘ships’ that were arriving from Refuge. It wouldn’t completely block the Dominion’s sensors, but it would create a lot of doubt and second guessing.
“We have an open channel to the recon drone!” Gibson confirmed.
Emily nodded. Soon now. “Order the Kent to eject its missile mines. Anti-missile system on full automatic.”
On the Dominion ship, Fortitude, Captain Bauer turned to Admiral Kaeser. “We are in missile range of the wormhole, plus three minutes time under power.”
Kaeser nodded. “You may fire, Captain.”
“Fire all missiles!” Bauer commanded.
“Fire the stingers!” Emily ordered. “Merlin, advance the ECM drones! Chief Gibson, put one nuke into the chaff cloud and trigger an electromagnetic pulse. Let’s see if they’ve hardened their missile guidance systems.”
Sixty drones each fired their stinger missile. The fast missiles leapt from their launchers and sped through the chaff cloud.
“Activate Dark matter Brake for five seconds only!” Emily commanded the Yorkshire and Kent.
The Chief Sensors Officer on the Fortitude blanched. “DMB flash! DMB! The Victorian ships are braking and turning!” Then his sensors display caught the first signs of the stingers through the chaff. “Incoming missiles! Can’t determine how many due to chaff interference, but sensors showing many missiles.”
“Sensors, any evidence of new ships, more than the three we’ve been following?” Admiral Kaeser asked.
The Sensors Officer adjusted his instruments. “Sir, we are picking up signs of multiple ships. Readings are weak and distorted because of the chaff, but there are at least thirty distinct emissions sources!”
Frowning, Kaeser asked Captain Bauer: “Decoy drones? Or have some of the Vicky warships actually turned around in Refuge and come back?”
Captain Bauer shrugged.
“Some of the drive emissions are consistent with Refuge warships, sir,” the Sensors Officer said. “Additional missile launch! This one’s from the Victorian ships!”
Kaeser sighed. If they were bringing Refugian and Vicky ships back through the wormhole, he and his little flotilla could find themselves mobbed. He needed more ships, and thanks to Admiral Mello’s recklessness, he didn’t have them. If they were just decoys, well…he had no real choice. Honor the threat, he reminded himself. He couldn’t risk losing any more ships until more reinforcements came from Dominion. Someone on the Victorian side had played his cards very cleverly.
“Just so,” he murmured to himself. “Message to all ships,” he ordered crisply. “Break off attack and return to the planet Cornwall at full military speed.” He swallowed his disappointment. Maybe, with luck, his anti-matter missiles would get through.
By the time the Victorian missiles reached that space, the Dominion warships were gone.
Meanwhile, the stinger missiles and Dominion missiles entered the chaff cloud at the same time. The stingers sensed the oncoming missiles and exploded, but they barely put a dent in the numbers the Dominions had fired. One hundred and twenty enemy missiles, including the three deadly anti-matter missiles, burst from the chaff cloud, made a course correction toward the worm hole and pressed ahead. The Kent’s anti-missile mines killed fifteen more, and laser fire took out another six.
Ninety nine Dominion missiles, including the anti-matter missiles, reached the worm hole intact and plunged into it. Two minutes later they emerged in Refugian space and the three anti-matter missiles began to scan for the Atlas.
Sitting in his command room in the larger of the two Refugian forts, Uri Ben-Ari saw the missiles come through on his high magnification screen. “Fire” he said softly. Golda, the fort’s AI, released the missiles.
One thousand anti-missiles launched from the fort and met the oncoming Dominion missiles. Twelve of the Dominion missiles somehow survived. The other Refugian fort fired its volley of anti-missile missiles. Only one Dominion missile emerged from the roiling cloud of explosions, wobbling as it did so. A laser beam from the waiting gunboats killed it.
On the New Zealand, Chief Friedman wearily lifted his head from his sensor display. “The Dominion warships have gone, Captain. No sign of anything between us and the worm hole.”
Emily nodded. “Thank you, Chief.” She felt drained, incapable of emotion. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. And forget, if she could.
“Message to the Yorkshire and Kent, activate transponders and follow us through the worm hole. And Chief Gibson, please send a courier drone though ahead of us. Let them know we’re coming through.” Wouldn’t do to get shot after all this effort, she thought, without any humor at all.
Five minutes later, the last three ships of the Coldstream Guards disappeared into the wormhole that would take them to Refuge and safety.
Chapter 71
Atlas Space Station
Three hours after entering into Refuge, tractor beams from the Atlas space station’s pulled them into one of the large service bays, designed to hold up to six battleships. The Yorkshire, New Zealand and Kent looked like toys as they hovered side by side in the cavernous space.
Emily just wanted to crawl into bed and escape into sleep, but before she could even leave the bridge, Queen Anne, Sir Henry, Peter Murphy and Hiram crowded into it. To Emily’s astonishment, the Queen threw her arms around her.
“You did it! You did it!” Anne cried, eyes alight. Behind her, Sir Henry leaned over and solemnly shook her hand. “Very nicely done, Captain. First rate.”
Emily blinked. “So, we’re safe?”
Queen Anne beamed. “Atlas came through intact, without a scratch. All of our hopes for the future are intact. All honor to you, Captain, you’ve done a magnificent job.”
Emily shook her head, fighting the angry rush that flushed through her face. “Make sure you earn it, Majesty,” she said bitterly, watching as the smile ran from the Queen’s face. “Ten thousand people just gave their lives so that you would make it to Refuge. By the Gods of Our Mothers, do something to earn those lives.”
“Captain!” snapped Sir Henry. “Remember to whom you speak!”
Queen Anne held up a hand to silence him, never taking her eyes from Emily. “You want promises, Captain?” she asked sternly. “Very well. I can promise you nothing but blood, toil and tears. But I also promise you that I will not stop until I have made the Dominions cringe in terror whenever they hear the name Victoria. And I promise that o
ne day, by my hand, the language of the Dominion will be spoken only in hell.”
Emily stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. For now, it would have to be enough.
Chapter 72
Emily’s Personal Journal
Today I killed my best friend.
Chapter 73
On the Dominion Vengeance
In the end, they simply ran out of ammunition.
They had used their four grenades to fend off the armored troops, killing one and driving the second back. There had been a blessed lull for about half an hour, then the corridor filled with Dominion troops. The Dominions shot gas canisters into the bridge, and then walked in behind ballistic shields.
One by one the Marines ran out of ammunition. Some resorted to throwing their empty rifles at the Dominion soldiers, some swung them like clubs. The Dominions shot them down and turned on the rest. “Surrender!” their officer ordered, “Or we’ll kill you.”
Cookie looked at the eleven surviving members of her one hundred and twenty man attack force. They were huddled together behind the last bank of consoles, pressed against the far wall of the bridge. Then she looked at her watch: two hours and seven minutes since she had spoken with Emily. Two hours and seven minutes paid for in blood.
There was nothing more to do. There was nothing more she could do. She looked at the blood-stained, exhausted faces of her Marines.
“We can surrender,” she told them, giving them permission to save themselves. They looked at her, faces grimed with dirt and blood, teeth bared, eyes glaring.
“Bugger that!” Wisnioswski snarled.
Meyer somehow cracked a smile. “There’s only thirty of them, Sarge, we should ask them to surrender.”
Cookie nodded. “Okay then,” she said, her heart bursting with the pride she had for these men. “Always together.”
“Never alone,” they replied.
A voice called them from the corridor. “This is Major Bruno Farber of the Dominion Security Directorate! Your battle is over and you have lost. Lay down your weapons and come out!”
“I am Sergeant Maria Sanchez of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines,” Cookie hollered back. “Go to hell!”
Not very original, she thought ruefully, but short and to the point.
A moment later the flash-bang grenades came flying in and Cookie’s world blossomed with light and pain.
The Ducks swarmed over them, butt-stroking them with rifle butts, then tying their hands behind their backs and putting black hoods over their heads. Cookie had to concentrate just to breath. Then they were dragged into a line and forced them to kneel on the floor. The hoods were ripped off. In front of them stood a husky, bald-headed man with the insignia ‘DSD’ on his black uniform. In one hand he carried a sonic pistol.
“My name is Major Bruno Farber of the Dominion Security Directorate. You have been tried for war crimes against the Dominion of Unified Citizenry and found guilty. I sentence you to death.” He turned and walked to the end of the line of prisoners. Meyer looked at him without comprehension.
“Always together, Albert!” Cookie called out. “May the Gods of Our Mothers embrace you and lift you up.” One of the Dominion guards roughly clubbed her to the ground.
Major Farber stuck his pistol against Meyer’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Meyer’s head snapped back in a spray of blood.
Farber stepped to the next Marine.
“Always together!” Wisnioswski shouted. A rifle butt knocked him backwards.
Farber pulled the trigger. He stepped to the next Marine.
“You filthy bastard!” Cookie screamed. “We’re POWs. They’ll hang you for this!”
He pulled the trigger and stepped to the next Marine. Four more died in quick succession. Next in line was Otto Wisnioswski. He put the gun to Wisnioswski’s head.
“Enough,” said a voice.
Emily looked up from the floor. A tall, thin man in the uniform of a Dominion admiral stood there, flanked by four security guards holding short, stubby sonic pistols.
“These people murdered Admiral Mello!” Major Farber snarled.
“Which makes them my prisoners as the ranking admiral of the Dominion Fleet,” the man said mildly.
“No! I have jurisdiction here. I am in charge of security for the Vengeance.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You will stand at attention and address me by my rank, Major, or I will see to it that you go out the airlock with these bodies,” he said, a touch of steel in his voice.
Farber reluctantly stood straight, glaring first at the prisoners, then at the admiral. “Admiral Kaeser, these people are spies and saboteurs. Under the rules of war, they are to be summarily executed.”
Admiral Kaeser eyed him disdainfully. “I see that the DSD now requires their officers to be stupid as well as bloodthirsty, Major. In your haste to shoot the prisoners, did it occur to you to ask how they managed to get aboard the Vengeance?”
Farber looked bewildered.
“Ah, I thought not. You see, Major, since there are no shuttle craft moored to your hull, and since they did not blow a hole in your hull to enter, I thought that you might be mildly curious as to how THEY MANAGED TO GET BY YOUR SECURITY AND BOARD THIS VESSEL!”
Major Farber stepped back, ashen faced. “I assure you, Admiral-”
“You have been killing valuable witnesses, Major, and that makes me wonder why. You are either a fool and an imbecile, or you are trying to cover for your own pathetic negligence. Which is it, Major, are you an imbecile or have you been negligent in your duties?”
“Admiral-”
“Shut up, Major Farber. I leave these prisoners in your care. I will question them myself. They are not to be harmed, do you understand me? If they are harmed, it will go badly for you. Do you understand, Major?”
Farber nodded. His face was purple with suppressed rage.
“Good,” said Admiral Kaeser. “I have a war to fight.” He looked around the CIC of the Vengeance. The command consoles were shattered, the sensor controls burning; the weapons console ripped off its legs and overturned. “The Vengeance will be of no use to us in the immediate future. I will arrange to have you towed back to Timor. You will hold the prisoners until I am ready for them.”
The admiral and his security team turned and left. Major Farber reached down and grabbed Cookie by the hair, jerking her to him.
“Oh,” he whispered hatefully. “You have much to answer for, and it’s a long way to Timor.”
Epilogue
Queen Anne sat with her chief advisors on the patio of a resort on Refuge. Across the table sat the Prime Minister and Foreign Minister of Refuge. The patio overlooked an emerald green lake framed by towering mountains. It was, the resort host assured her, one of the most beautiful vistas in all of Refuge.
She barely noticed it.
In the five days since they had arrived in Refuge, the Dominions had launched two attacks through the worm hole. Neither had succeeded in reaching the Atlas, now tucked away in an asteroid belt on the far side of Refuge, but they had destroyed one of the two forts guarding the worm hole entrance. Both sides had taken losses, but while Refuge could quickly build more of its gunboats, reconnaissance drones reported that no additional reinforcements seemed to be coming to bolster the Dominion forces. At least not yet. But while there were no further attacks, it was also clear that the Victorian forces were too small to go on the offensive any time soon.
“Refuge pays its debts,” said Aamir Fareed Khan, Refuge’s Foreign Minister. “We will do whatever we can to help you, but our industrial base is small and we have little experience in designing and building large war ships. As for our naval fleet-” he shrugged eloquently — “it is comprised of seven hundred gunboats. Until this week, they had never fired a shot in anger.”
“You have already repaid any debt you might have owed us,” Queen Anne said earnestly, ignoring Sir Henry’s wince. “You have protected us since the minute we arrived in your sector, and for that
we are eternally grateful. We know how to build large warships, although I must tell you, Minister, that our admirals have been very impressed with your gunboats. What we need now more than anything is your protection and time, time to rebuild our Fleet so that we can take the attack to the Dominions, time to retake our home world back from them.” If they could retake Cornwall, they would have the population they needed to man the ships they intended to build.
“Majesty, we will support you as best we can, within the limits of our industrial base and resources,” said the Refuge Prime Minister, Yisrael Tal. “We are ever mindful of the fact that without the support from your grandfather, there would be no Refuge.” He looked at her through shrewd eyes, seeing a very young woman with very little experience trying to save her world from the brink of disaster. He wondered if she really understood how the odds were stacked against her.
“But, Your Majesty, you began this war with ten battle groups and now you have little more than one. We do not know how many ships the Dominion has, nor the Tilleke, for that matter. Nor do we know how the other nations will align themselves in this war. From what you have told us, we must assume that Cape Breton is in league with the Dominions. But what will Sybil Head and the Sultenic Empire do? What of Darwin? And is there any hope that Arcadia is now anything more than a vassal state of the Tilleke?” He leaned back, his face troubled. “We pledge you our support, Majesty. Our history demands nothing less. But Your Majesty, as I look at your situation and the forces at your disposal, I fail to see any reasonable hope. Is there anything that you know that we do not?”
Queen Anne glanced at her chief counselors, then back across the table to the Prime Minister. She smiled a chill predatory smile that reminded him of nothing less than a sivit, just before it tore its prey to pieces. The Prime Minister had not hunted sivit since he was a foolhardy young man, when he learned the hard way that often when you hunted sivit, the sivit hunted you.
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