It was possible, he knew, that the raiders had already struck again. There were two hyperspace storms currently blasting their way through space, both blocking FTL transmissions. It was possible that the raiders had already hit another planet and slipped back into hyperspace, without word yet reaching Fairfax, but his instincts told him that they hadn't launched any such attack. Instead, they seemed to be waiting. But waiting for what?
An alarm shrilled and he sat upright, reaching for his sidearm before he caught himself. It was the near-orbit sensor alarm, not the base security alarm. He stood and walked towards the hatch, stepping out into the Situation Room. It was far too insecure for his tastes – it might have been deep underground, but it was a stationary target – yet there was little alternative. He couldn't command the planetary defences from a starship bridge or an orbital battlestation. Or so he had been told.
“General,” the sensor operator said. “Nineteen portals have opened ... make that twenty-five!”
The General blinked in surprise as he took in the main display. The portals were spinning open, larger than anything he'd seen since the end of the war. One by one, the starships started to emerge; superdreadnaughts led the way, followed by a handful of fleet carriers. A wing of starfighters launched from their decks as soon as they entered normal space, fanning out ahead of the capital ships. They looked ready for trouble.
“IFF codes confirmed,” the operator reported. “They’re Federation, sir. The fleet list places them as the Bottleneck Squadron.”
“Order our forces to hold position,” the General growled. The Colonial Militia gone to combat stations the moment they’d realised that this was no ordinary emergence from hyperspace. There hadn't been so many starships arriving within so short a space of time since the Battle of Fairfax, when the Dragons had brought everything they could against the colony world that had given them so much trouble. “And hail them, see if they’ll tell you what the fuck is going on.”
The seconds ticked away as the Federation starships spread out, falling into blockading formation. It was easy to admire their smooth professionalism, the General noted, although there was a rigidity about their performance that would have worried him, if he'd been their commanding officer. Had they forgotten the lessons of the war so quickly? But with vastly superior firepower, perhaps their CO felt it was worth taking some risks.
“I’m picking up a signal,” the operator said. “They’re broadcasting to everyone in the system, every channel.”
“ ... Is the Federation Navy, operating under the authority of the Federation,” a voice said. “By order of the Senate, the planet known as Fairfax is hereby blockaded; we say again, by order of the Senate ...”
“Blockaded?” The operator demanded. He sounded thoroughly outraged. “They can't do that!”
“Quiet,” the General snapped. He understood what the operator meant, but he also understood that force was nine tenths of the law. “I need to hear it.”
“ ... Until the person or persons responsible for the raiders are handed over to the Federation’s authorities,” the voice continued. “All passage to and from the Fairfax System is forbidden; resistance will be met with deadly force. I say again, resistance will be met by deadly force.”
“Get me the President,” the General snapped, as the message came to an end. He had no idea why the feds thought that the raiders could be produced on demand, but he knew that it wouldn't happen. The Bottleneck Republic was as ignorant of the raiders as the Federation itself. “And then send a signal to the rest of the militia. Contingency Plan One-Ultimo is now in effect.”
He looked up at the display and shuddered. They had known that the Federation might not prove willing to negotiate, they had known that they might have to fight ... but the colossal starships shown in the display proved that any fight would be bloody. And might well be lost. The Colonial Militia had a few tricks up its sleeves, yet the Federation Navy possessed overwhelming firepower. It would be a dark day for both sides.
“They have to be mad,” he muttered, in disbelief. It made no sense at all. How could the Federation believe that the colonials would target their own populations? “What sort of madmen would unleash butchers on their own people? Who in their right mind would do that?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“She blockaded Fairfax?”
Glen stared down at the report in disbelief. The Governor had uncovered evidence that suggested senior figures within the Bottleneck Republic had actually bought the raider ships, then sent them out to pillage their own worlds ... and she’d responded by insisting that the Bottleneck Squadron blockade Fairfax! He’d read reports he hadn't entirely believed before, but this was the first one he’d read while wondering if the writer was insane. Or if the Governor had lost her mind.
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia said. “The Bottleneck Squadron has orders to prevent anyone from entering or leaving the planet’s orbital space. So far, the Colonial Militia has refrained from challenging the squadron.”
But that won’t last, Glen thought, coldly. The General had impressed him, as had the attitude of the colonials. They wouldn't be impressed by mad claims that their own government had been behind the slaughter; they’d just want to shove the interfering federals as far from their homeworld as possible. How long will it be before the Colonial Militia tries to lift the blockade?
“That tears it,” Cooke growled. “What the hell do we do now?”
Glen privately made a mental note that Cooke needed more seasoning before being permanently promoted to Commander, then tapped the table.
“We will remain in orbit until the freighters have been unloaded, then consider our next move,” he said. Thanks to the Governor, there were few places Dauntless could go where she would be actually welcomed by the locals. “For the moment, we should probably consider redrawing our patrol schedule to take us right out on the edge – or even past the Rim.”
Cynthia lifted her eyebrows. “Captain,” she said, “that will make it harder to monitor colonial activity ...”
“I’m aware of that,” Glen said, coldly. “But in my considered judgement, the last thing this situation needs is more provocation. A few months spent surveying the situation along the Rim will hopefully give time for tempers to cool.”
“Unless we should be heading for Fairfax,” Cooke pointed out. “If it does come down to war ...”
“This isn't likely to lead to war,” Stocker snapped. The Chief Engineer glowered around the conference room. “They have to know that they are massively outgunned.”
Glen put rigid controls on his temper, then slapped the table. “I did not invite debate,” he said. He looked from face to face, watching them as they realised that they had stepped over the line. “Our principle concern is the safety of the alien refugees, then carrying out our original orders. If we are summoned to Fairfax, we will of course go. Until then ...”
The intercom buzzed. “Captain,” Helena said, “we have multiple portals opening near the planet.”
“Red alert,” Glen snapped. The timing was good, too good. He would have bet good money that the raiders had someone in the system, watching and waiting until the Colonial Militia starships pulled out. “All hands to battlestations.”
***
“One heavy cruiser, Federation Navy,” Dana reported. “Six freighters; seemingly helpless.”
Jason allowed himself a tight smile. The heavy cruiser was a nasty customer, even though she was badly outnumbered. But he didn't really want to force the issue, merely bombard the planet. The freighters ... well, if they were picked off, the alien-lovers would have some real problems convincing other freighter commanders to rent their ships as transports.
“Advance to engagement range, then hold the range open,” he ordered. Getting in close to the cruiser’s energy weapons would be lethal. “Broadcast our message for all to hear. And then fire at will.”
He paused, then continued. “And ships with special assignments are to carry them out on m
y orders.”
***
Dauntless, Sandy thought. There could be no mistake. Dauntless was the only Federation heavy cruiser in the Fairfax Cluster. Captain Knight had clearly not wasted his time while she’d been gone, part of her mind noted; Dauntless was coming to battlestations with a speed and efficiency that put the raider ships to shame. If the raiders hadn't come to battlestations in hyperspace ...
She keyed her console. It was just a matter of time until she could send her message, then wipe it from the network. And then the raiders would be in for a nasty shock.
***
“Captain, we’re picking up a message,” Danielle reported. “They’re broadcasting to the entire system.”
“There's no one else to hear it,” Cooke pointed out.
“Put it through,” Glen ordered. The enemy squadron had formed itself into a rough formation and was now bearing down on Dauntless. Glen would have been surprised if they risked a close-in engagement, unless they thought they could take Dauntless without being hurt themselves. “What are they saying?”
“This is the Colonial Liberation Front,” a toneless voice said. “We will not tolerate the surrender of a human world, claimed by humans, settled by humans, to serve as a home for alien scum. The humans who have been forcibly evacuated from this world have no recompense; we will punish the aliens for them ...”
Glen sliced his finger across his throat. The message cut off, sharply. Whoever had written it didn't seem to realise that there had only been a handful of settlers, none of whom had been likely to survive the next two years without intensive medical attention. The doctor’s report had made that quite clear.
“Interesting,” Cynthia muttered, through the communications network. “They didn't say anything about Fairfax.”
“True,” Glen agreed. The timing would have been more than a little odd, if they had. If Dauntless had only just heard about the blockade it was unlikely that the raiders had heard anything, unless their base was somewhere between Primus Omega and Fairfax. But even so, the timing would have been skewed. “But it doesn't really matter ...”
“I’m picking up a data packet,” Danielle injected. “It's coming from one of the light cruisers.”
Sandy, Glen thought. “Store it securely,” he ordered. “We’ll look at it once this day is done.”
“Enemy craft entering missile range,” Cooke snapped. “They’re locking weapons on us.”
“Open fire,” Glen ordered. It was a pity that there was no easy way to tell which ship was the enemy flagship. The Dragons had taken years to realise that their command network identified their flagships, which promptly drew fire from their human enemies. But then, their command network had been so rigid that when they lost the flagship, the next in command simply took over and kept fighting. “And take us into close engagement range.”
“Enemy craft opening fire,” Cooke reported. “Deploying ECM drones ... now!”
***
Jason gritted his teeth as both sides opened fire. The feds were good, he had to admit, and they had the most modern weapons available. And the best countermeasures; one by one, several of his missiles were drawn off and wasted on electronic shadows projected by ECM drones. His own ships had their own ECM, but even Mr. Ford hadn't been able to get his hands on the latest in naval technology. They were at a disadvantage that even superiority in numbers might not be able to address.
The battle was rapidly slimming down to a simple problem. Could his ships destroy the cruiser, or at least cripple her, before she got into energy range? Somehow, he doubted it.
But as the cruiser wasn't the primary target, it hardly mattered.
“Signal to Seurat,” he ordered. “She is to launch planetary bombardment projectiles now.”
“Yes, sir,” Dana said. “Signal sent.”
***
Sandy saw the opening, a gap in Dauntless’s defensive shield that could be used to slip a missile or two through the chink and slam it into her hull. Even if the ship wasn't badly damaged, sensor nodes and weapons blisters would be smashed and rendered non-functional .. she hesitated, then moved too slowly to launch her missiles before the gap closed. If she was lucky, they would see it as incompetence. She remembered the former helmsman – he'd been left behind when they departed the asteroid – and shuddered.
But if they realised that she’d done it deliberately, it would be far worse.
***
“Captain, one of the enemy ships is firing on the planet,” Cooke reported. “Their missiles are already outside our point defence engagement envelope.”
Glen cursed. The choice had just boiled down to a very simple one; go after the missiles, thus surrendering their chance to take a bite out of the raiders, or leave the planet to its fate. There were thousands of innocent beings on the surface ... but could they be saved? He ran through the situation in his head, then swore inwardly. They had to try.
“Take us after the missiles,” he ordered. “Break off from the enemy craft.”
Dauntless shivered as she altered course. Glen watched grimly as the missile drives burned out, sending them flashing towards the planet on ballistic trajectories. They wouldn't be accelerating any longer, but they would still be moving hellishly quickly ...
***
“They’re heading towards the planet, sir,” Dana said. She giggled. “I think they’re too late.”
“Fire one final barrage, then order all ships to return to hyperspace,” Jason ordered. One way or the other, the feds were going to know that they had lost this round. “And transmit our final message.”
***
“Two missiles made it into the planet’s atmosphere,” Cooke reported. “Captain ...”
Glen watched in horror. Compared to antimatter, the explosions weren't that powerful ... but unleashed on a planet’s surface they would be utterly devastating. And the radiation from the dirty materials used to make the bombs ... any aliens who survived the first blast would be condemned to a lingering death, unless they received immediate medical attention.
“Break us off,” he ordered. Behind them, the last of the raiders was withdrawing into hyperspace. No doubt they would use a static bomb to hide their escape. They’d succeeded in slaughtering their targets and withdrawing, without loss. “And then stand down from battlestations. There’s nothing else we can do here.”
He looked over at Danielle. “Find out what is in that damn packet,” he added. “If it’s a clue to the raider base, I want to know about it.”
***
Sandy kept her head down as the Captain and XO advanced towards her station, once the craft was safely in hyperspace. She’d hoped that they’d missed what she'd done completely, but it seemed that she wasn't going to be that lucky. All she could do was pray, silently, that they didn't know the truth. If they did, she would wish for death before it was over ...
“You missed a shot,” the Captain said. “A chance to do real harm to the feds, a chance to damage their ship ... and you missed it.”
“I didn't see it in time,” Sandy said. as desperately as she could. She’d never pleaded with her father in such a matter, not even after the incident with her school friends and the semi-legal drugs. But she had to let them think she was weak. “It was only there for a second.”
“Silence,” the Captain barked. He motioned for her to stand up, which she did reluctantly. “I cannot abide sloppiness among my crew.”
Sandy bit down on the remark that came to mind. If he couldn't abide sloppiness, he needed to start with his crew ... and then train them up properly. But he hadn't cared, as long as he had his position and his responsibility. He might not even have cared about Sandy’s mistake, apart from the fact that it had embarrassed him in front of the other raiders. After all, how often would they have the chance to take a free shot at Dauntless’s hull?
He gestured ... and blinding pain surged through every cell in Sandy’s body. She screamed in sudden agony, unable to move or think as the pain tore her apart.
It stopped, just for a second, then resumed; every inch of her body was on fire. She tumbled to the ground and screamed again; the deck seemed to be burning. There was a sudden horrible stench, then the pain doubled or tripled ...
... The next thing she knew was that she was lying on the deck of her cabin. Her entire body was shaking madly. She tried to sit upright and realised that her skin felt ... odd. It was sore, yet it was a phantom pain, as if it wasn't quite there. Sandy had been hurt more than once in basic training – the colonies insisted on teaching hand-to-hand combat, even to starship crewmen – yet this was different. Her skin seemed to be tingling with pain.
“I think you got quite a bad dose,” Jess said, softly.
Sandy started. She’d realised she was naked, yet it hadn't quite dawned on her just how weird it was to be naked. Her body looked normal, suspiciously so. There were no bruises, nothing to suggest that she'd been hurt ... nothing, apart from the feeling in her skin.
Knight's Move Page 36
