by Peter Grant
“That doesn’t mean we’re going to abandon the rest of the survey, though.” Muted groans. “We had seventeen stars to check, and we’ve done twelve. The remaining five will be investigated too, just in case the Brotherhood or anyone else has something going on. I think they’ll come up empty, but I’m not prepared to risk missing something. Recover and reload your search drones as normal, and we’ll head out in forty-eight hours. Bobcat will send its drone to System Thirteen, then pass through System Fourteen itself. Caracal will send its drone through System Fifteen, then investigate Sixteen itself. Jaguarundi – I’ll be on board her for this trip – will send its drone to System Seventeen, then return to System Nine to make another pass through it. She’ll move more slowly, to give her passive sensors the best possible platform to gather more data. We’ll rendezvous back here as usual, although Jaguarundi will take a week or two longer than the rest of you, and the drones.”
His gaze went for a moment to the nameless, outermost planet in an unnamed star system just outside the search sphere. The rocky, airless, lifeless orb was visible through the viewscreen of Sorubim’s conference room. It made a convenient rendezvous point for the squadron, easy for navigators to locate. While the three frigates conducted the search, the arsenal ship and its companion corvette had remained in orbit around the planet, waiting for the other vessels to return.
“Once we’re back here, we’ll plan ongoing surveillance. In broad outline, this is what I’m thinking. We’ll cache supplies on the surface of that planet. I’ll leave one frigate here, fully resupplied from Sorubim’s holds, to keep a covert watch on System Nine. We’ll deploy all three surveillance drones around that system, copying their data by tight-beam transmission to each other. The frigate will visit on a routine basis to download everything the drones have gathered, and pass through the system herself to verify their data. She’ll then return here, resupply, and make another pass. I think she can expect to do that at least twice, possibly three times, before her relief arrives. We’ll send another ship from Constanta to take her place as soon as Commodore Cochrane approves, and keep that up as long as necessary. If the Commodore doesn’t approve, we’ll send a communications ship to this rendezvous with new orders.”
An officer raised his hand. “What are we going to do about the Brotherhood base, sir?”
“Nothing at all for the present. We have a lot still to learn. Is this, in fact, the Brotherhood base, or someone else? Do they have any other bases? If we hit this base, will we get all their important units, or are there some in different locations that we’ll miss, and that will then hit back at us? We have to answer all those questions, then draw up a watertight plan to take out everything and everyone there. It’s going to be complex and difficult.”
He waited for a moment, but there were no more questions at this stage. “All right, let’s hit the highlights of what the drone saw in System Nine. First, and most critical from our point of view, are these drive traces one million kilometers galactic north of the planet they’re orbiting. Do they ring any bells with any of you?” Silence. “No-one? I’ll give you a hint. What do we have in orbit, one million kilometers above both Constanta and Mycenae Secundus Two?”
Three voices yelped simultaneously, “A sensor satellite array!”
“Precisely. It’s a tetrahedon of four satellites, each ten thousand kilometers from the others. We can only see two drive sources in the drone data, but they’re in exactly the right place for vessels deploying such an array. I presume the other two satellites are already in position, or have yet to be emplaced. It means they’ll be able to detect a hyper-jump signature out to about one light-day from the star, and pick up gravitic drive emissions at about four billion kilometers range, even at low power. We’re going to have to watch our emissions ultra-carefully around System Nine. They clearly expect spies to arrive, and they want to detect them as far away as possible.”
“At least it’s not a full system sensor array,” Commander Stroud sighed. She had just been promoted to command HCS Jaguarundi, after proving herself skippering a corvette for two years.
“I’m sure it’s only because they haven’t got enough money for one,” Frank admitted. “We’d love to have one ourselves, but they cost as much as half-a-dozen frigates. There’s just no way we can afford it. On the other hand, if they get desperate enough to draw down even more of the funds they’ve raised toward this ‘Fatherland Project’ of theirs, they might decide to buy one.”
“Let’s hope they don’t!” Rankin exclaimed fervently. “Won’t that installation make it impossible for us to emplace drones? They don’t carry enough reaction mass to avoid using their gravitic drives if they have to maneuver into position. That means the sensor satellites will detect them.”
“It’ll make it more difficult, to be sure. We’ll have to sneak in slowly and carefully with our frigates. As we get near the star, we’ll use reaction thrusters alone to get into position to deploy a drone. If its initial placement is accurate, it carries enough reaction mass to maintain its position on thruster power for up to a year, without needing its gravitic drive. Thrusters emit no gravitic radiation, so the sensor satellites won’t pick them up. After deploying the drones, we’ll use our thrusters to accelerate slowly away until we’re at a safe distance to hyper-jump. It’s going to take weeks to do it that way, and it’ll be boring as hell, but I don’t see any other option.
“Now, on to the rest of the sensor data. The ships orbiting the planet fit with what we know of their fleet so far. They have a refinery ship, probably the very large gravitic drive signature closest to the planet. They converted four fast freighters into armed merchant cruisers. We destroyed one in the Mycenae system a couple of years ago, so we think the surviving three are among the other drive sources. It’s entirely possible they’ve replaced the lost ship – that may be another drive source.
“They have one modern destroyer, whose drive we can identify. They had at least two older destroyers, similar to the two we destroyed in Mycenae several years ago. We don’t see their drive traces in the drone sensor data, so we think one of three things has happened. Either they’ve moved them somewhere else; or they’ve withdrawn their crews to serve aboard other ships, and they’ve been parked in non-powered orbits around that or another planet in the system, emitting no drive signatures; or they’ve stripped them of all usable weapons and systems, and scrapped them. We’ll try to learn more.
“The remaining drive sources are probably either communications or courier ships, or asteroid gathering vessels, the kind they send into systems they’ve infiltrated to gather up the asteroids their robot prospectors have beaconed for recovery. There are probably two or three more such ships in transit between this base and other places, or at Patos.”
“What about the ship and the smaller drive signatures in the asteroid belt, sir?” Commander Murray asked.
“We think they’re busy with a training exercise. Don’t forget, their income is derived almost exclusively from stealing other people’s asteroids. They have to train those who’ll go in to spread their prospector robots, and recover what they find. What better place to do it than their own asteroid belt? They may even recover something worthwhile now and then.”
“I get it, sir. That makes sense.”
“Do you think they have mines orbiting the planet, sir?” another officer asked. “We use them to secure our base at Mycenae Secundus Four, after all.”
“In their shoes, I would,” Frank admitted. “We don’t know whether they have any. I think, for the sake of our safety and security, we’ll assume that they do, and stay well clear of that planet until we know for sure.” Several of his audience murmured their fervent agreement.
“I’ll distribute a more formal assessment of the drone’s data tomorrow. Continue fueling and provisioning your ships for the next surveillance missions. Also, Commander Murray has a proposal. Commander?” He sat down as the other stood.
“Thank you, Captain.” The arsenal sh
ip skipper looked around, a smile playing on his lips. “You’ll recall that we brought a hundred and fifty trainees of various grades with us on this mission, to give them concentrated education and training in space. It helped to pass the time while we waited for you all to get back from your first two surveillance missions. As it happens, they’ve made very good progress. Over eighty per cent of them have already qualified for the next higher grade, and the rest are very close to that.
“I’d like to propose that we distribute the newly qualified spacers, and those ready for advancement, among your ships, replacing those of your existing crews who’d like to study for their next higher grade. If they come to us, they can put in several weeks, maybe even a few months, of full-time, flat-out study and practice, without worrying about anything else. We might be able to get most of them qualified, too, by the time we return to Constanta. What do you think?”
There was an immediate buzz of approval. “That’s a great idea!” Commander Nicholson exclaimed. “I can think of a dozen candidates, and I’m sure my Exec and the Chief of the Ship can think of as many more.” Other commanding officers muttered agreement, turning to ask their Executive Officers for their views.
Murray waited for a few moments, then said, “I’ll send a signal tonight with the names and rates of all qualified candidates. Please check them against your needs, and let me have the names of those you want, and the names and rates of any of your crews who’d like to exchange places temporarily. If you’ll do that by tomorrow night, we can balance out any conflicting requirements.”
Frank added, “Please consider any senior NCO’s who might be interested in Warrant Officer slots, or Warrant Officers who might like to try for Limited Duty Officer rank. We have all the training and assessment materials aboard Sorubim, and it’d be a shame to let them go to waste. If we can return to Constanta with a ripe crop of freshly-qualified spacers, NCO’s, warrant and commissioned officers, the Commodore will be very pleased with us. That means bonuses all round, people, so do your best.”
6
Dilemma
PATOS
“Ten weeks! Ten Godforsaken weeks!”
Agim was so angry he could not find the words to continue. He sputtered, waving his hands in the air in frustration, desperately wanting to punch something or someone to vent his feelings.
Lieutenant-Commander Jashari froze in the visitor’s chair. He recognized the symptoms, and didn’t want to become their target. Cautiously, he said, “I am sorry, Mr. Nushi, sir, but truly, there was no way anyone could have brought word to you earlier. The ships at New Skyros thought Captain Pernaska had brought us the news of their detention. They wondered why why they had heard nothing, but because they were detained, they could not investigate. Captain Toci expected our new ships to arrive within a known window of time. When they did not, he sent my courier ship to make inquiries at New Skyros. I learned what had happened and took the news to him, and he sent me straight here to report it to you. Given the delay in travel between planets, there is no way word could have reached us, or you, any earlier.”
Agim sank back in his chair as he listened, forcing control upon himself. There was nothing to be gained by browbeating this officer. He’d done his job as best he could. He managed to grit out, “Very well. You are dismissed for now. Remain planetside until I give you further orders.”
“Yes, sir!” Jashari sprang to his feet, snapped to attention, and scurried out of the office, closing the door carefully behind him.
Agim closed his eyes, trying not to let anger and frustration overwhelm him. This… this was devastating news. Hawkwood – it must have been them! – had found a way to use the United Planets to interfere with the Brotherhood’s purchase of warships. What’s more, they might have kidnapped one of his most senior spacer officers as well… or had they? As Captain Toci had pointed out, the courier ship Pernaska had hired had done business at New Skyros for several years. He had only been able to obtain her services because her prior charterer had fallen ill. That argued against Hawkwood having anything to do with her disappearance, because it would be difficult to arrange a series of coincidences like that. They could have sabotaged the ship, of course, but Hawkwood had been scrupulous in the past to avoid casualties to third parties. If that was still true, only an accident or disaster of some kind would have prevented Captain Pernaska from reporting to Captain Toci. Such tragedies were extraordinarily rare in space travel, but not unknown.
He heaved a frustrated sigh as he sent two messages to his closest lieutenants. The seizure of their ships called for action… but what?
They met in the park as usual, bringing their food with them in paper or plastic bags. The three men sat down around a picnic table beneath a tree, and ate as they talked. They were able to see all around them, ensuring that no-one could get close enough to hear them. They chose one of three possible parks, and random locations within each park, for their meetings, never using the same place twice in a row. Such precautions made it effectively impossible for anyone to set up parabolic microphones or cameras at a distance, to secretly record their discussions.
Being early spring, new leaves were covering the formerly bare branches of the trees. They provided good cover for what looked like several large moths that followed the three men, flitting from tree to tree, then congregating unobserved in the one nearest them once they had sat down. A bird pecked at one as it flew past, hoping for an easy meal, but spat out the thread-thin metal ribs and wires in alarm as a minor electric shock jolted it. The damaged ‘moth’ managed to flutter to a tree, where it sent out a distress signal to its owners before shutting down, awaiting later collection. The rest of the ‘insects’ continued with their mission.
Agim summarized what he’d learned that morning from Lieutenant-Commander Jashari. “We are in a very difficult situation,” he concluded. “Our two newest destroyers and their depot ship cannot be delivered, leaving our defense in the hands of four converted fast freighters and one modern warship. They are enough to either secure our base, or conduct offensive operations against Hawkwood in Mycenae, but not both at the same time; yet we must strike at our enemy, if only to keep him from striking at us.”
Endrit nodded vehement assent. “The Patriarch – blessed be his memory! – always advocated offense rather than defense. He insisted on making our enemies fear us, no matter what the cost, because otherwise they would become bold and seek to attack us.”
Fatmir shook his head gloomily. “We have struck at Hawkwood twice already. We destroyed up to four of their ships, if our sensor records are to be trusted; but it cost us two old destroyers and an armed fast freighter, plus the life of the Patriarch himself. Over and above that, they sabotaged one of our new destroyers, and a freighter carrying all the spare missile pods for it and its sister ship. Furthermore, one of our courier ships has not returned from its reconnaissance mission to Mycenae, and now another is missing – although that was not our ship, and it may not be Hawkwood’s work, as you say. Even so, they have still hurt us worse than we have hurt them.”
“What of the mission to attack their leaders on Constanta?” Endrit asked hopefully. “Have we still heard nothing from our agents?”
Agim cursed softly. “Sadly, they have been silent for almost a year now. Their last message said they were about to attack, but we have had no news of their success or failure. Of course, we had no other agents on Constanta to report back on their mission. They may have succeeded, at least in part, but we would not know about it – and Commodore Cochrane, one of their primary targets, is still alive and in command of Hawkwood.” Mentally, he added, And I still do not know whether they managed to kill Jehona Sejdiu and her son. God forbid that they yet live! The fact that she has not reported in since then is a good sign, but not conclusive. He did not share that with his lieutenants. They knew nothing of the private spy he had sent to Constanta.
Fatmir asked, “Are our new defenses in place at our base?”
“The system survei
llance satellite cluster has just become operational. It has detected nothing of interest so far. We know Hawkwood uses such a cluster in Mycenae – we suspect that is how they managed to detect and destroy the Patriarch’s mission – so we hope to achieve the same success against them, if they should find our base and try to attack it.”
“I suppose the only way we can be sure they know its location is if they attack it.”
“I fear you are right. If they took Captain Pernaska, they might have wrung that information out of him, but there has been no sign of infiltration so far. Besides, he would never have talked. He would have taken his own life first, or forced them to kill him. He was a brave man.”
They ate in moody silence for a few moments. Endrit suddenly paused in mid-mouthful, then chewed faster and swallowed hard. “You said we do not have sufficient strength to attack Hawkwood in Mycenae. What of their base at Constanta? Could we send a ship through that system on a high-speed, no-emissions pass, to fire its missiles into their vessels in orbit around the planet? There is that shipyard, too. They overhaul their ships there. Could we strike it?”
Agim felt a sudden glow of hope. “You are right! Constanta’s System Patrol Service is weak and ineffectual. It does not have a system surveillance satellite, and only a few outdated patrol craft. Perhaps we can hit Hawkwood there. It will need careful reconnaissance, to target the right ships – we do not want to hit ordinary civilian traffic. Even so, a simple visit by an innocent-seeming freighter will allow us to collect all the information we need. If we then attack with one of our armed ships, without any warning of its approach, that has every chance of success.”
“We dare not mount such an attack without the approval of the full Brotherhood Council,” Fatmir pointed out.
Agim could have cursed aloud. He longed to be able to prosecute this war as he saw fit, without interference… but he knew Fatmir was right. The Council had been growing increasingly restive at being cut out of operational control. He had to keep them on his side, or risk being removed as their Chairman and losing power altogether.
