by John F. Carr
But, as Adderly knew, Sauron heavy cruisers were special operations craft, and carried four times the number of Cyborgs in their troop complement as any other capital ship. On Tanith, no less than a hundred of these “death’s-heads” had been deployed, and the Tanith military simply could not bring sufficient force to bear to root them out without orbital strikes from their fleet, which if provided might pierce the spaceport’s Field. This would doubtlessly destroy the facility as well as the Saurons, thereby marooning the Imperial troops for weeks or even months on an inhospitable jungle planet.
So, far above the orange clouds of Tanith, the Imperial Fleet circled, and waited, laying siege.
III
“First Rank, massive radiation readings at Alderson Point Three. Sauron-wavelength precedents,” reported Communications.
“Enemy presence at Point Three?” Diettinger asked.
“INSS New Chicago, sir. Three squadrons Imperial Heavy Fighters.”
“Current overwatch?”
“Two Chinthes, sir; twenty thousand kilometers positive. Strela is holding at fifteen thousand kilometers negative.”
The Imperials were searching for them, but the asteroid belt blocked their view; Fomoria and Canada had merely to extend passive sensors out from behind their asteroid hiding places to know when their “shadows” were getting too close.
“Five thousand kilometers negative, make for Alderson Point Three at three-Gs. Canada to mirror our maneuver after three minute delay.” The Imperial light cruiser would have to choose whether to pursue from above or below the belt. Whichever way she took, she was outgunned.
“Weapons.”
“Ready.”
“You have discretion here and for Canada. If the Imperials pursue either ship, concentrate fire and destroy them, priority to the Strela.”
“Affirm.”
IV
William Adderly stood on the bridge of the Strela, cursing the luck that had let him live.
The arrival of the Imperial convoy to pick up Tanith’s troops had secured the system from the Saurons and trapped their troops on the planet, but it had also brought Admiral Sir Owen Kellogg, whose relationship with Adderly quickly became as inimical as Diettinger’s. The Admiral’s reaction to the loss of the Canada was cold fury.
Within an hour of the task force’s arrival, Kellogg had summoned Adderly to his quarters aboard his flagship, the Aleksandr Nevsky. After listening to his report, Kellogg had dismissed his secretary and launched into a tirade.
Adderly’s report on the Sauron EVA Marines substantiated several rumors that Imperial Intelligence had learned about Sauron naval tactics, but Kellogg dismissed their importance. Instead, the Admiral raged that their efficiency could only have been the result of Adderly’s incompetence…or worse.
Kellogg brought up the matter of his capture and incredible release, compounded by Adderly’s claim that the Sauron commander had asked about nothing more substantive than the borloi. He had exploded at the Admiral’s implication, and Kellogg’s retorts had culminated with his notification to Adderly that a full Board of Inquiry would convene as soon as the Tanith System was secured.
But the most the Admiral could do for now was pull rank. He couldn’t afford to relieve Adderly, so he had deposited him and the other survivors of the Canada debacle aboard the Strela, leaving Adderly in command of the remnants of the Tanith Patrol. The Patrol was dispatched to the asteroid belt to hunt down the Fomoria. They were forbidden to engage, only to shadow the Saurons and their prize, with orders to alert the Aleksandr Nevsky immediately upon sighting them.
Adderly scowled as he stared at the combat hologram. And here I can be the first to see when my ship, which I lost, makes a run for it. Good old thoughtful Admiral Kellogg!
“Son of a bitch,” he murmured.
Cassardi looked over. He could feel Adderly’s strain, and his desire to conn the Strela himself, but he knew Adderly would never usurp his authority as Captain. Knowing it, Cassardi respected him all the more. As far as he was concerned, Adderly wouldn’t have to pull rank. If Adderly ordered him to fly them into Tanith’s sun, he’d have done it in an instant, knowing he had a reason, and that the reason would see them through.
After all, Adderly was the man who had led Strela into combat against a Sauron heavy cruiser, bringing her back unscathed. Strela’s hoodoo was lifted, and every man-jack aboard her knew it. An unofficial party had gone on for thirty hours, until every shift had its chance to participate and toast the Old Man’s name. Secretly, of course. Neither Cassardi nor his men would have embarrassed Adderly by saying anything to his face.
Adderly’s bridge crew, however, was another story; they were nursing hangovers they would spend weeks forgetting.
The First Mate turned to Cassardi. “Captain, I have multiple nukes at Alderson Point Three; ships on station there report very high-yield precedents.” He listened for a moment, then continued. “New Chicago reports heavy damage to her fighters, recalling them now…Fields going to…sir! Fields went straight into violet, one of the nukes was a direct hit on New Chi’s Field—at least a hundred megs!”
Captain Cassardi met Adderly’s eye.
“This is it,” Cassardi said.
Adderly nodded. “They’ll move, now. Signal the ’Nevsky. Tell them we’re preparing to shadow the Sauron and—her prize.” He just couldn’t bring himself to say her name.
The INSS New Chicago had backed off from Alderson Point Three, her batteries out of range, watching as the Sauron reinforcements emerged from Jump. Admiral Kellogg ordered New Chicago’s commander to hold his position until relieved, so the carrier had recalled her surviving fighters, refueled and rearmed them, and sent them out again.
“Fomoria still accelerating, Captain.”
“Where’s the Canada?” Cassardi asked the empty screens.
“There, sir. Canada going five thousand klicks positive, matching speed and maneuver on the Fomoria.”
The first Sauron ship through the Alderson Point was the Leviathan and she emerged with her Field activated, spewing more precedent nukes.
The commander of the New Chicago immediately ordered his flight controllers to warn off the fighters, but it was too late for half of them. The rumor that Saurons recovered from Jump Lag more quickly than human norms was apparently true, for the batteries and missiles of the Sauron battleship began sweeping New Chicago’s fighters from space.
Kellogg had his fleet closing on the Alderson Point at four-Gs, but New Chicago’s skipper knew that it would not be enough. Leviathan was deploying thousands of perimeter mines, clearing the way for the reinforcements which would follow. New Chicago was forced to open range as the Leviathan continued to advance, but her screens still picked up the arrival of at least a dozen Sauron capital warships in the first wave.
Aboard the Strela, Cassardi’s communications officer turned from his board. “Sir, the Fomoria is in contact with the Sauron battleship; I believe it’s the Leviathan, sir.”
Cassardi and Adderly shared a look. The Leviathan had been the vanguard of the Sauron invasion force that had captured Meiji over three years ago. Nothing had been heard from the Imperial world since, and the Sauron battleship had been on hand for most of the Imperial disasters that followed. To say she possessed a dire reputation in the Imperial Navy was to damn her with faint praise.
“More Saurons emerging, Captain…” The commo officer began calling off ship types and identification estimates and, as the list grew, Adderly’s spirit withered.
Dear God, we haven’t a prayer; we’ve got half the Second Imperial Fleet here, but there are just so many of them!
“Captain Cassardi, please have your communications officer patch me in to the bridges of the Chinthes accompanying us. Secure beam, if you would; I’ll make the contact in my cabin.”
Chapter Six
I
“Chinthes and Strela shadowing the prize ship, First Rank,” Weapons announced. “Activating Canada’s batteries now, firing o
n the Strela.”
The SNS Leviathan had just Jumped in-system and Diettinger was now in visual communication with the commander, Vessel First Rank Vonnerbek. They had worked well together in the past, and he was confident they would do so now. As the commander on the scene, Diettinger was placed in charge of the Leviathan and her attendant forces for the duration of the mission; in this case, the securing of the borloi. Vonnerbek waited until Diettinger had finished relating the tactical situation to him before speaking.
“Thank you, Diettinger. Be advised the First Fleet is arriving at this location in nine days.”
Diettinger was thunderstruck; only iron discipline kept the shock from his voice and features. “Do you have information regarding this, Vonnerbek? Is the High Command planning to invade Tanith, attempting to secure it permanently?” He remembered what he had told the Imperial Captain Adderly regarding routes into the Empire, and with good reason. Tanith resided at several tramline Points, true, but each one in Empire territory was an Imperial Navy base. On top of that, the jungle world, though undeniably of great strategic value, was industrially worthless and militarily untenable.
Vonnerbek spoke freely; there was no known way to tap into modern communications lasers. “Affirmative. The First and Second Fleets together represent the majority of Sauron’s remaining naval strength. Our planners indicate that if we secure Tanith, even as no more than a refueling stop, and move before the Empire can react, then the next stop could be any or all of the Empire’s primary naval bases, even Sparta itself.”
Diettinger held the other First Rank’s gaze. “That will not win the war, Vonnerbek.”
“That is High Command’s estimate as well. But Socio-Ops are convinced that such action against the Imperial cattle will result in vast civilian backlash against the Imperial military, possibly forcing a peace.”
Diettinger arched his right brow, the one not covered by a bandage. “I see. Socio-Ops is not my field.”
“Nor mine,” Vonnerbek agreed, with a look that spoke volumes.
Diettinger considered it a waste of personnel, talent and resources. From Vonnerbek’s tone he knew Vonnerbek agreed with his assessment. But they were Soldiers, and that meant both followed orders.
“And, of course,” Vonnerbek concluded. “Leviathan is carrying special Occupation Breedmasters.”
Occupation Breedmasters were the “eugenic shock troops” of the Sauron Race. They were supplied with hundreds of thousands of fertilized ova from Sauron females to be implanted in selected human norm “Breeders” who would then carry the Sauron fetuses to term. The genetic quality of these walking wombs would have no appreciable effect on the proto-Saurons they bore, freeing female Soldiers for more important war duties.
Diettinger nodded, but the idea did not sit well with him. The use of Occupation Breedmasters signaled total commitment on the part of the High Command, but it was based on incomplete data. He doubted that they were aware of the growing fanaticism among human norms against the Saurons. They had not witnessed the enemy’s Chinthe destroyers strafing one of their own, Canada, just to kill a few Sauron Marines.
“I wonder what Socio-Ops would make of my interview with the human-norm Adderly?” Diettinger asked.
Vonnerbek shook his head woefully. For a member of a race known for an inexhaustible supply of willpower in the face of adversity, Diettinger thought he had never in his life seen such an expression of complete hopelessness on another Soldier.
“I strongly doubt they would take any lesson from it, Diettinger.”
Diettinger nodded; he and Vonnerbek were in accord.
We have lost, and in this last stage of war we’re trying to regain the initiative against the Imperial military with diplomatic tricks dreamed up by warriors, and genetic terrorism conceived by diplomats.
Still…if the War of Secession had taught him anything, it was that anything was possible. Perhaps the Empire could be forced into a peace of sorts. And in that peace, Sauron could rebuild.
Unlikely, but we may yet survive. Somehow. That will be up to diplomats. Perhaps the Breedmasters can create a species of Sauron devoted to that art. It will not be up to Soldiers such as myself.
“Strela and Chinthes breaking off.”
Diettinger acknowledged Second Rank’s update and returned to conclude his conversation with Vonnerbek. “Very well. Prepare task force status for transfer to Fomoria’s tactical computer. Secure Alderson Point and standby for Staff meeting upon our arrival. Diettinger out.”
II
Adderly waited for the skippers of the Chinthes to digest what he had said. Both were on private linkups to him, but each had to know the other was being consulted. He had ordered them not to be influenced by that fact, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Finally, each one signaled him that they were willing to try.
“Thank you both, gentlemen. Godspeed, and good luck.”
I’m asking them to commit mutiny, he thought. But I can cover for them if I’m wrong—if I’m right, I won’t have to.
There was another “if,” of course…if the Chinthes were destroyed, by Adderly’s orders or by the Saurons. But there was no point in thinking about that possibility.
“Sir, Admiral Kellogg’s force is closing with the Sauron fleet.”
Cassardi looked to Adderly, but he ignored him. “Helm, port fifteen, make for the fleet,” Cassardi said quietly. “Signal the Chinthes—”
“Belay that.” Adderly turned to Cassardi. “Conn the Strela as you will, Captain Cassardi. The Chinthes have their orders.”
The Imperial and Sauron fleets clashed like ramming icebergs; an initial impact, formations interfacing and locking as ships began pouring energy into one another’s Fields, then the slow dance as each side probed the enemy’s formation for weak spots, spreading out the concentration of ships in three dimensions, the rainbow-hued Fields connecting in a lattice of green and red lasers and streaking torpedoes. Inevitably, amid the flares of the thermonuclears and the brilliant laser batteries, there came the brighter flashes of collapsing Fields, as outmatched or outgunned ships died.
Unnoticed in the first minutes of the carnage, two Chinthe-class destroyers drove through the center of the Sauron formation. Fields at maximum, lasers firing and torpedoes dropping through their Fields to engage targets of opportunity. Far richer targets were available to the Sauron gunners, and the destroyers were ignored. In the confusion of the battle’s early moments, their fate was indiscernible.
Kellogg’s Operations Officer knew only that they disappeared into a maelstrom of Sauron lasers somewhere near the Alderson Point. The Saurons probably knew what had happened to them, but they weren’t telling.
Eventually, a series of lucky hits burned through the Fields of the largest Imperial warships. The Imperial Fleet broke off, but the Saurons were in no position to pursue; all their Fields were into the violet, and Diettinger was determined not to throw away half the remaining Sauron space forces unnecessarily.
Instead, he ordered the Sauron fleet to skirt the system in a wide arc toward Tanith, to relieve their ground forces and get what he, at least, had originally come for.
“Admiral Kellogg on the line, sir.” Cassardi’s communications officer had managed to refine his “sirs” so that Adderly knew when he meant him and when he meant Cassardi. The call was for him, this time.
“Adderly here.”
“Adderly. I see you’ve lost the rest of your destroyers.”
He said nothing. Kellogg couldn’t make much of it anyway; half the fleet’s destroyers had been lost this day. But the mood on Strela’s bridge went brittle as cold iron. Adderly heard one of the middies mutter an oath, tactfully directed toward his screens.
“Your pardon, Admiral, but we have casualties here, and damage control has us busy. What can I do for you?”
It was insubordinate, of course, but Adderly didn’t give a damn. It would be worth it to watch Kellogg’s face.
“Well, I have good news for you, mister,” the
Admiral almost sneered. “The King George V lost her bridge crew in that last salvo from the Sauron battleship Wallenstein. Captain Lester, his First Officer—all dead. I can’t afford to have the KGV out of action and I haven’t anyone to spare from the Fleet.”
Adderly felt the floor rock beneath him and knew it had nothing to do with the Strela. A second chance? Or was Kellogg really that desperate? And what difference did it make either way? “My bridge crew from the Canada is intact, Admiral. I know they’d be eager to serve.”
Kellogg lost control, slamming his fist again the desk. “Goddamnit, Adderly, don’t make me ask! We’ve been mauled in this engagement, but that’s nothing like the worst of it. This mess is holding up an entire relief operation. We need to get those troopers off Tanith!”
Adderly felt his face grow hot. Somebody was being a stupid, selfish bastard, and it wasn’t Kellogg. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re on our way.”
Kellogg raised a hand, which he then put to his brow, like a man who’d thought of something he’d been trying to remember all day. “I’ve just seen the reports on Strela’s performance in the engagement, Captain Adderly.” He sighed, wearied at holding the words back. “My compliments to you and Captain Cassardi. You’ve both been mentioned in dispatches. Signal me when you’re aboard the KGV. Kellogg out.”
The connection had not been broken one second when Cassardi gripped his hand. “Congratulations, Will.” He grinned and snapped off a salute as he delivered the traditional Navy farewell to a departing Flag officer.
“And good riddance. Sir.”
He smiled back, but he was not thinking of the KGV, not even the Canada. As he had been since giving them their orders, he was thinking about the Chinthe-class destroyers.
