“Why then?”
“That is the question we need to solve. We have a breathing space. The New Men, and Strand with them—whether in conjunction or not I don’t think anyone on our side knows. In any case, they used up their sleeper cells on Earth. For the first time, we are united, without Strand’s agents working against us. Humanity must close its fist, as the saying goes, and strike hammer blows against the right target. We must no longer slap our enemies in the face with an open hand, merely stinging them to greater action.”
“So far, I agree with your analysis.”
“When we strike the decisive blow, we will need Victory. Even better, would be ten Victorys and even better than that would be one hundred.”
“There’s no question about that,” Maddox said.
“The Commonwealth and Windsor League have superior industrial might compared to the New Men. We must use that, out-producing our genetic enemy. Yet would it not be even better to out-produce them with superior ships?”
“It would indeed.”
“That is why we must keep Victory in Earth orbit as we laboriously attempt to reverse engineer the ancient weapon systems. If I had my way, we would tear the starship apart piece by piece. The survival of human existence might well depend on it.”
“I can’t agree to that, Ma’am.”
“I know you can’t. You’re too invested in Victory, almost as if you think it’s a living thing.”
“It is a living thing,” Maddox said.
“Driving Force Galyan is a machine, nothing more.”
“I respectfully disagree. But that aside, if you know my thoughts, why say all this to me?”
O’Hara sighed. “I’ve begun to understand you better, young man. You yearn to race into danger with Victory. It’s exciting, challenging and rewards your pride by having others heap accolades upon you for a job well done.”
“That is not why I’ve done those things, Ma’am.”
“It’s possible you don’t consciously realize it, but it’s true nonetheless.”
Instead of becoming angry, Maddox grew thoughtful. “Suppose you’re right about me. What difference does that make to rescuing Ludendorff? Don’t we owe it to the man to get him back?”
“Not necessarily,” O’Hara said, “not if the cost is too high.”
Maddox grew silent.
“This is bigger than emotive responses,” the Iron Lady told him. “Until now, I have agreed with your desperate actions. Our plight was too awful for anything else. Now—”
Maddox sat forward sharply. “Do you watch football, Ma’am?”
“I do not. It is a deplorable sport, far too violent to no reasonable purpose.”
“It engages the emotions, certainly, and it’s filled with strategy.”
“Violent strategies that force young men into far too violent of collisions,” O’Hara said.
“That may well be,” Maddox said. “However, it offers us a fitting example. Football games are intense contests that often rise and fall due to momentum. Consider the situation where a team is losing and becomes desperate. The coach sends in a few trick plays along with possible long bomb maneuvers. A few of the plays work, the team scores and the momentum of the game shifts their way. Soon, the formerly losing team is winning. Now, however, time is running out and the coach wishes to hang onto his lead. What does he do? He plays preventive defense and makes tepid offensive calls. The other team takes heart and attempts a few trick plays of their own. All of a sudden, the momentum shifts again, and the preventive coach causes his team to lose the game.”
“Are you suggesting I’m saying we play preventive defense?” O’Hara asked.
“I’m afraid I am, Ma’am. We have gotten where we are by being bold, not by playing it safe.”
“There is a time to protect our winnings, Captain.”
“Undoubtedly,” Maddox said. “This is not one of them, though. We have two enemies, at least. One of them is the New Men. We have sent Admiral Fletcher to liberate the captured planets of “C” Quadrant. At the same time, we have united regular humanity and begun massed production of warships. That is the correct strategy. You’ve pointed out a possibly more dangerous foe, Strand. What is the antidote to him? More knowledge. Professor Ludendorff can give us that knowledge. Therefore, we must rescue him at all costs. Strand knows this, and is likely doing everything in his power to stop us. That is why I must take Victory to the Xerxes System and free Ludendorff from the Builder traps.”
O’Hara sat back. “You have presented a powerful argument, Captain.”
Maddox knew when to keep quiet.
“In such a case, where we both feel so strongly, going to the Lord High Admiral seems logical.”
Maddox still said nothing. He admired the Iron Lady. One of the things he loved about her was her ability to see the argument even when she didn’t want to.
“Yes,” she said, leaning forward, clicking on her intercom. “This is difficult for me to do. I hope you realize this.”
“I do,” Maddox said quietly.
“Major Stokes,” O’Hara said.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Stokes said out of the intercom.
“Could you send in the Marines, please?”
“At once, Ma’am,” Stokes said.
O’Hara removed her finger from the switch. “I’m going to have to ask for your sidearm, Captain.”
He nodded, taking out his pistol and setting it on the desk. “Is the Lord High Admiral in a restricted area?” he asked.
The door opened and three combat Marines in body-armor stepped through.
“You misunderstand the situation,” O’Hara said. “You’re not going to see the Lord High Admiral.”
“But—”
“I hate to do this, but I know what you would likely do, which is to take Victory on your own initiative. Since Galyan listens to you, I’m going to have to put you into temporary confinement. The starship must stay in Earth orbit for the near future. I hope you can forgive me, Captain. In the end, this is for your own protection.”
Maddox glanced at the Marines, their hard stares and readiness to act. He suspected there were more of them in the outer office. Even if he could overpower these three, the others would swamp him. He regarded the Iron Lady. There was a reason why she’d gained the nickname.
“You’re making a mistake, Ma’am. We need the professor. If I don’t leave now, we may never have another chance.”
“I’ll see you in several weeks. Goodbye, Captain. I dearly hope you don’t take this too hard.”
O’Hara opened a drawer and swept the service pistol into it, shutting the drawer with a snap.
One of the Marines put a gloved hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “If you’ll come with me, sir,” the man said in a gruff voice.
Maddox glanced once more at the Iron Lady. She studiously scribbled a note, seemingly absorbed with the writing.
Suddenly angry, the captain shook his shoulder free of the Marine’s grip.
The three combat men stiffened while the Iron Lady looked up.
With his gaze on the ceiling as he struggled to maintain his decorum, Maddox stood at attention and gave the stiffest salute of his life. Then, he spun around and marched out of the office.
Belatedly, the Marines hurried after him.
-11-
Seventeen days after capturing the Windsor League hammership, Pa Kur received a signal from Strand.
The Methuselah Man was in the Inferno System with him, but Pa Kur hadn’t realized it until this moment.
The New Man ordered his sept into action. They began to maneuver the unwieldy vessel from behind Inferno III, a hot world of seething equatorial lava with jungle poles where empty settlements stood. Transports had vacated the planet’s sub-men over a year ago already.
Pa Kur sat in the hammership’s command chair. Over the past seventeen days he had made a detailed study of the vessel. The reports had left via shuttle, giving the rest of the invasion armada’s commanders a better under
standing of the Windsor League battlewagon’s strengths and weaknesses. The hammership had plenty of both—not that either would come into play this time.
Strand’s present plan was more subtle than that.
“Commander,” the comm specialist, an Eleventh Ranked New Man, said. “The enemy is near.”
Pa Kur did not say a word in reply.
Strand had ordered them behind Inferno III five days ago, at least behind in relation to the system’s Laumer-Points. The Methuselah Man had used his cloaked vessel to invaluable ends, often studying the various enemy formations in different star systems without their knowledge. Strand’s star cruiser had an extra propulsion system allowing it to make stellar jumps without the need of wormholes. He’d never shared this movement system with anyone else. It seemed to Pa Kur that the Emperor should demand the secret from Strand. If the rest of the armada possessed the ability to jump without using Laumer-Points…
Pa Kur’s shoulders twitched. Obviously, the great Strand kept his secret for a reason. Together with the superior cloaking, it made the Methuselah Man invaluable. Without him, the armada would have a much harder time keeping watch over the Grand Fleet’s careful maneuvers without being seen in return.
The Grand Fleet had bunched up for two weeks after losing the hammership. Now, they had begun to loosen their advance again, spreading out once more. The first time, Strand had given the enemy time to enjoy the privilege. This time, he would snap a trap shut fast.
“They’re accelerating, Commander,” the comm specialist said.
Pa Kur could see that for himself. He also knew his orders and the plan. Possibly, Strand expected him to have told his sept what the plan was. Pa Kur had not done so for a particular reason. Subhumans reacted favorably to a person with wizardly foreknowledge. He wanted to see how far that translated with those of the superior race.
“We will remain where we are,” Pa Kur said.
The others on the bridge ingested the news in silence. They did not openly turn to each other, as sub-men would have done. Instead, they glanced slyly at each other, possibly attempting to assess each other’s reactions before commenting.
“The enemy vessels are building momentum, Commander,” the comm specialist said.
“You are perceptive,” Pa Kur said, adding a subtle note of mockery to his tone.
The comm specialist stiffened his shoulders. Everyone on the bridge understood the rebuke.
The enemy vessels continued to accelerate. There were two Star Watch battleships, a carrier, six heavy cruisers and twelve destroyers. The ships were under the command of a woman named Commodore Garcia. Two years ago, she had faced them at Caria 323 and later in the Tannish System.
Strand regarded her as a clever tactician. The Methuselah Man said that would aid them here in the Inferno System.
“Commander,” the warfare specialist said. “Enemy probes have passed Inferno III. The probes have begun transmitting images to the enemy flotilla. The commodore will know that we’re the only ship in the system.”
Pa Kur did not bother to acknowledge the statement.
The minutes passed, enough so Garcia would have received the intelligence data. Yes, her ships began to increase acceleration. No doubt, they believed they could capture the hammership or make him surrender.
“Commander,” the warfare specialist said. “It is unwise to remain in orbit. We must maneuver to the inner system Laumer-Point and escape while we are able.”
Pa Kur regarded the warfare specialist. The New Man wore a silver uniform with a close-combat badge on his left pectoral.
“Open channels with the flotilla’s flagship,” Pa Kur ordered. “I wish to warn them.”
“Commander?” the warfare specialist said.
Pa Kur leaned toward the close-combat specialist. “Choose your next words with care,” he warned.
The warfare specialist’s lips peeled back as he stood.
Pa Kur likewise stood, staring at the other.
The warfare specialist was Ninth Ranked and would be dangerous in a hand-to-hand fight. Perhaps he recalled Pa Kur’s higher status. The New Man touched his combat badge. Such symbols meant much among them, as they were hard won.
Pa Kur doubted he could outfight the other hand-to-hand. Therefore, he would not try. If it came to that, he would outmaneuver the other, sidestepping the issue.
“I am curious as to your plan,” the warfare specialist said, sitting. “I await your orders, Commander.”
Pa Kur turned to the comm specialist before the warfare officer saw his eyes glitter in triumph. This was a status victory, but he could not let the others see that he felt this way. That would diminish his superiority in the feat, as they would realize he saw it as a victory. A true superior would not feel that way. Thus, Pa Kur acted indifferently to the concession. The comm specialist would surely interpret the eye-glitter as the commander’s eagerness to speak with the commodore.
“The channels are open,” the comm specialist said.
Pa Kur sat stiffly in the command chair. He stared at the main screen. In moments, Commodore Garcia appeared.
She was a small, old woman with dark eyes and hunched shoulders. She also happened to be one of Star Watch’s best tacticians. It was another reason why this victory would diminish the enemy’s courage another notch.
“Surrender or die,” Pa Kur told her.
The transmission took several seconds to reach the enemy ships. Once she listened to his ultimatum, the commodore would have to mull over his statement, speak and wait for the transmission to reach him.
“I call on you to surrender, New Man,” Garcia said in a sharp voice. “You have a single hammership. Thus, my vessels can easily destroy you. I know that you do not have any other ships behind Inferno III. Furthermore, I have detected no sign of life on the planet. Even if you have automated planetary cannons, they will not help you today. Decide, Invader, as I am about to launch missiles at your ship.”
Pa Kur did not hesitate. “I am speaking to dead people. Remember, you had your chance. Now, your fate is upon you.”
“Are there cloaked vessels with us, Commander?” the comm specialist asked.
Pa Kur kept the irritation off his features. “There is only one cloaked vessel that could remain hidden from Star Watch. Yes, it is with us.”
The others on the bridge visibly relaxed.
“But Strand will do nothing to help us today,” Pa Kur said.
The others looked at him with what appeared to be faint surprise. For New Men, that was like standing up and shouting their wonder.
Another transmission arrived: “I expected no less from you, New Man,” Garcia said. “It is just as well. Humanity doesn’t need your kind. Good-bye, Invader, your death is on your own head.”
“They have launched five Titan-class missiles,” the comm specialist said.
“That is too few,” Pa Kur said.
“By the time the missiles reach us,” the warfare specialist said, “our ship will be in range of the battleship’s heavy lasers.”
“True,” Pa Kur said.
The two specialists traded glances with each other.
“I have a surprise for the sub-men,” Pa Kur said. “It surprises me that neither of you has surmised that yet.”
“I cannot fathom the surprise,” the comm specialist admitted.
The warfare specialist thought about the problem with a furrowed brow.
On the main screen, five destroyer-sized missiles left the battleships and began to accelerate hard for the hammership.
“We must have mines,” the warfare specialist said. “A new kind of mine,” he added.
Pa Kur pointed at him. “That is well-reasoned.”
The warfare specialist dipped his head at the compliment.
The comm specialist tapped his board furiously. “I do not detect any mines.”
“I would be appalled if you had,” Pa Kur said. “The mines were strewn by Strand some time ago. He analyzed the enemy commander and
set the stage for her. These mines are part of the Methuselah Man’s unique arsenal.”
“But why plant them here, now?” the warfare specialist asked. “Such a superior tool should only be used at the maximum moment. We could have used the surprise in a larger battle where it would have given us bigger rewards.”
“That, too, is well-reasoned,” Pa Kur said. “However, the implication is clear. Strand only has a few of these special mines.”
“All the more reason to save them for a more decisive encounter,” the warfare specialist said.
“Wrong,” Pa Kur said without emotion. In truth, he seethed with inner exaltation. To teach these two such a truth would gain him esteem in their eyes. They would pass this esteem to the others and cause his sept to trust him even more.
“The critical point today with these mines is not physical destruction but something more powerful,” Pa Kur said. “Strand seeks to destroy their confidence by elevating our superiority to an incredible degree. They will stumble into a mine ambush and afterward believe we possess thousands of such mines. That will make them inordinately cautious everywhere.”
“Ah,” the warfare specialist said. “Yes, I see.”
The comm specialist nodded with understanding.
Time passed. The Titan-class missiles reached fifty Gs acceleration.
“The commodore is hailing us again.”
“Put her on,” Pa Kur said.
Commodore Garcia appeared on the screen. She hunched forward to stare at him. “I will offer you one more chance to surrender.”
He said nothing.
“Do not think your mines will save you,” she said. “We have better sensors than you realize. We are beginning to maneuver around the hidden mines. Their blasts will brown our shields, nothing more.”
The two specialists turned wordlessly to Pa Kur.
“Come,” Garcia said, “why throw away your lives? Surrender to us and let us end the useless fighting.”
Pa Kur motioned the comm specialist. He tapped his board. The commodore’s image disappeared. In her place were the various flotilla vessels.
The Lost Colony (Lost Starship Series Book 4) Page 10
