by Peter Grant
“I think that’s it, sir. Sastagan said this freighter would first head to the mining project to collect several hundred more fighters. They had on board enough weapons and equipment to outfit them all. The ship would then head for Athi, and sneak into the system in the same way. It had enough rations aboard to get them to the planet.”
Steve nodded again. “That’ll be where Devakai’s reserve of ration packs went, as well as most of its modern weapons – the ones they asked the UP to replace with more advanced versions.”
“Yes, sir. When they reach Athi, the SPS patrol craft will undock from the freighter and engage the Fleet warships patrolling the orbitals. He said that because the ship would make no emissions as it came in, the ‘unbelievers’ won’t know it’s there until it’s too late. They’ll be slaughtered, clearing the way for the rest of his people to land on the planet.
“The assault shuttles, manned by Army crews, will escort the cargo shuttles, which will carry the rest of them. Once on the planet, they’ll link up with those waiting for them, to form a total strike force of six thousand people. The Army shuttles and armored troops will lead the attack on the United Planets peacekeeping force. He said it’s dispersed, scattered in firebases around the continent. Each firebase will be isolated, then assaulted. They’ll overwhelm them individually, by sheer weight of numbers, before their troops can join forces to defend themselves.” Macneill looked at him with a troubled expression. “Is that right, sir? Are they really spread so thin?”
“Yes, they are. On a peace-keeping mission, fighting small, poorly armed terrorist groups, that’s a perfectly sound way to operate; but it’s suicide against a large, well-equipped, concentrated force. It’ll be a bloody disaster!” He sat silent for a moment, his mind whirling with the implications of Sastagan’s plan, then asked abruptly, “Do we know what date the ship left Devakai?”
She consulted her display. “Sastagan used a local calendar when he spoke, sir. As far as I can work out, it translates to October second, Galactic Standard Calendar.”
“And do we know where she was going – in other words, the location of the asteroid mining project?”
“Yes, sir. I gave its coordinates to the First Lieutenant, sir, and she’s entered them into our navigation computer. It’s listed as an A4-type star with five planets, none habitable. There’s no record of any mineral discoveries there, or any asteroid mining project logged in the United Planets mining registry. The nearest inhabited system is sixty-two light-years from it.”
Steve nodded thoughtfully. “That means it won’t be likely to attract any visitors. If they set up a base on one of those planets, and extracted locally or ferried in air, water and other basics to support life, they could do almost anything there, and no-one would be the wiser. It’d be very expensive, but if they had the kind of income that could support a project like that –”
Macneill interrupted him. “They do, sir; piracy. I’m still going through that database, but it looks as if they’ve been pirating ships in the Bihar Confederation for at least a decade, and selling them and their cargoes to raise funds for their operations.”
Steve nodded again. “And that would also give them a chance to train their people, test them in combat, and prepare them for invading Athi – not to mention building up their own fleet of spaceships and small craft, to carry their fighters and supplies for them. Their crews are probably drawn from among those who went there in earlier years. They might also have been gathering intelligence about the Bihar Confederation. Most of its planets have a Hindu majority. If Kodan Sastagan can infiltrate each of them, and build up a hidden core of believers… it doesn’t bear thinking about. He could spark a multi-planet religious war that would go on for decades!”
“That’s what I thought too, sir. I think Athi has been a sort of test run for him. If he can take it over, and Devakai as well, he can use both planets as bases to train his followers to wage religious war for him.”
“So the UP will have to stop him on Athi, then come back here and clean up Devakai once and for all.” Steve’s voice was grim. “I doubt whether the Lancastrian Commonwealth will want to get any more involved than it already is, but if we can get our evidence to the Bihar Confederation, they’ll be only too glad to take care of business. They’re Sastagan’s most obvious target, after all.” He rose. “How much have you told Number One?”
“Everything I’ve just told you, sir. In your absence, she was commanding officer, so I figured she ought to know.”
“You did the right thing. Thank you, Macneill. You’ve done an outstanding job here. You’ll be hearing more about it when we get back to Lancaster. You’ve set up the drones as instructed?”
“Yes, sir. What about the third drone? It’s still in place over Gangai.”
Steve frowned as he thought, tapping his fingers on the desk. “We can’t spare the time to recover one of them, no matter how much we might need it. There’s also the risk that the SPS might detect its movements, and follow it to us. Prepare a program that will blow all three drones together at a given time, but don’t upload it yet. Make sure they’re all at least ten kilometers away from any orbital traffic or installation – in fact, make that twenty kilometers, to be on the safe side. Maneuver them as necessary. Remember, officially we aren’t at war with Devakai, so we can’t cause damage or casualties unless forced to do so, to defend ourselves. I had to do so twice on the planet, and I’ll have to justify that to BuIntel and the Department of State when we get back to Lancaster.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
He reached into his pocket and brought out the data chips he’d taken from the monitoring device in the mission’s quarters. He quickly explained what they were. “Download all these recordings and add them to our classified. Devakai database. Secure the original chips in your safe.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Warn Number One I’m on my way up. Thanks again.”
Senior Lieutenant Laforet met him on the bridge. “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee, sir,” she greeted him. “It’s in the conference room.”
“Juliette, you’re a star!” he said gratefully, heading for the small compartment opening off the bridge.
They both helped themselves to cups of the hot, steaming fluid. Juliette brewed coffee using better-quality beans and more careful processing than was usual aboard Fleet ships, for which Steve was duly thankful. As he added sweetener and creamer, Steve asked, “Did you give some thought to what Macneill told you?”
“Yes, sir. It looks very bad.”
“Yes, it does. Come to the Plot with me.”
“I’ve already entered the system co-ordinates Macneill provided, sir,” she told him as they walked over to the three-dimensional tank displaying, at present, a model of the Devakai system. Two patrol craft were shown, their icons circling the planet slowly. A third icon had just left the shipyard. “That’s one of the patrol craft that were undergoing maintenance,” she said, pointing to it. “They’ve been working flat-out to return it to service. Looks like they’ve just got it moving.”
“I see,” he murmured, his mind racing as he mentally calculated angles and distances. “That one orbiting the equator is within missile range of us. The second, one light-hour out from the planet, is too far away to have any hope of hitting us, particularly once we reach maximum speed on our way to the system boundary. We’ll be moving faster than her antiquated missiles’ top speed. That third one, though… I’m not sure. Do we know if she’s armed? Normally, ships have their missiles removed before they go into dock.”
“Ours do, sir, but we don’t know whether that’s standard operating procedure here.”
“That’s a good point. Devakai may not be as safety-conscious as we are. All right, Number One. I’m sure you’ve run simulations. How long would it take that two-million-ton freighter, moving at typical merchant spaceship speeds, to get from here to the asteroid mining project?”
Laforet called up a pre-programmed sequence in the plot ta
nk. Devakai was shown as a planetary symbol, with a line joining it to a distant star. “I reckon they’d have taken between twelve and thirteen days, sir.”
“All right.” Steve calculated quickly. “If they left here on October second, Galactic Standard Calendar, that’d put them there on the fourteenth or fifteenth of October. They’ll need to settle into orbit around whatever they’re using for a base there, then load personnel and whatever else they planned to take on board there. Given that they’re not the world’s most skillful spacers, based on what I’ve seen, I reckon that would take them two more days; so, they could have departed on the sixteenth or seventeenth of October. How long from there to the Athi system?”
“Sir, I allowed ten days for the transit.”
“Hmmm… Model this, Number One.” His voice was suddenly crisp, decisive, and her hands flew over a keyboard as she entered his instructions. “Assume departure from there on the sixteenth of October, heading to a point four light-days from Athi on a direct course. That far out, their hyper-jump exit signature won’t be picked up by standard shipboard sensors. If they accelerate to a freighter’s typical max cruise of one-tenth of light speed, they’d take forty days to reach the Athi system boundary from their hyper-jump exit point. If they shut down their drive and active sensors, there’d be no emissions to warn our ships of their approach. What date would that put them at the Athi system boundary, and on what bearing from the planet?”
“Wait one, sir…” The plot display changed. A dotted line reached out in the tank from an icon indicating the asteroid mining project, ending just short of a planetary icon marked ‘A’. Figures scrolled across the display in rapid succession, then blinked brightly as the navigation computer reached a solution. “I reckon they’d get there on December sixth, sir. Bearing from Athi at the system boundary would be approximately 069 horizontal, 047 vertical.”
“So they might reach Athi as early as six days from now, with no warning, no emissions to betray their presence… and our space and ground forces sitting there, all fat and happy, like defenseless sitting ducks.”
Her face went white. “Yes, sir.”
They stared at each other in deathly silence for a moment.
“We took almost eight days from Athi to Devakai, didn’t we?” he said at last, very softly.
“Yes, sir.”
“If we headed back there at our absolute maximum speed, force-charging our capacitor ring in between hyper-jumps, overriding all the engineering interlocks, disregarding safety almost entirely in the interests of speed… how fast could we get there?”
“Sir… I…” She shook her head, visibly aghast at the thought. “I reckon we might possibly shave up to a day off that time, sir, but we’d overstress the ship’s drive system and capacitor ring. If they were damaged, we’d be stuck in space until we could repair them, and we wouldn’t reach Athi in time. Also, if the Kotai save even one day from here, to the asteroid mining project, to Athi, they’ll get there before we can warn our forces.”
“True, but if they don’t save a day, we might still be in time. We’ll just have to do our best to avoid damaging our systems. What’s more important, anyway; the ship’s engineering systems, or the lives of our people at Athi?”
“When you put it like that, sir, the question answers itself.”
“Yes, it does. Sound the departure alert, Number One – we’re leaving in ten minutes. Don’t tell anyone yet that we’re heading for Athi instead of Lancaster. I’ll explain later to the passengers. We’ll blow the three drones’ demolition charges in orbit to scramble local communications and sensors, then head out at full blast while the SPS tries to figure out what’s going on. If they launch missiles after us, I’ll trust to our speed and our stealth systems to evade them. We can’t afford to lose time by sneaking away slowly and quietly.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The warning klaxon sounded throughout the ship, and an organized bustle broke out as spacers raced to their departure stations or secured themselves against the potential stresses of maximum acceleration and unexpected maneuvers. Stewards helped the passengers do likewise.
Steve sat down at the command console as the primary bridge crew took over from the watch-standers, and called the Intelligence Center. “Synchronize the three drones to self-destruct at…” he glanced at the bridge time display, “…04:25 local time precisely,” he instructed Macneill.
“Got it, sir.” He could hear her fingers tapping at a keyboard. “Set, sir.”
“Upload and transmit.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
He took a deep breath. The die was cast now. Picking up a microphone from his console, he set a couple of switches and spoke. “Commanding Officer to all hands. We’re about to depart at maximum acceleration, to avoid interception by local patrol craft. We’ll be creating a diversion behind us by detonating our drones’ demolition charges, which will disrupt orbital communications and sensors, giving us a head start before they can figure out what’s going on. We may have to take evasive action during the first hour, so remain secured in your departure stations until you’re dismissed.”
He laid down the microphone. The ship’s preparations rose to fever pitch, then died away as all departments announced their readiness for departure. He watched the bulkhead timepiece tick away the minutes and seconds.
He set a combination on the intercom. “Command to Engineering, over.”
Warrant Officer Laninga’s voice came through his earphones. “Engineering to Command, go, over.”
“Warrant Officer, we’ll be departing the system using all possible speed, not slowing down at all. Give her all she’s got. While we head for the system boundary, I’ll brief you about our destination and what we need from your department. It’ll be a maximum effort trip for you. Over.”
“That’s all right, sir. We aren’t afraid of hard work. Over.”
Steve grinned. “That may change by the time we reach our destination! Thanks, Warrant Officer. Command out.”
He ran some calculations on his console, figuring out a course that would keep them as far as possible from the current positions of the SPS patrol craft and their likely pursuit trajectories – and those of their missiles, if they opened fire. He looked across to the Navigation console. “Command to Navigator, set initial course to 271:037 degrees. We’ll be making a maximum speed run to the system boundary.”
Junior Lieutenant Abrams wore the Navigator’s hat, despite his low rank and relative lack of experience. Steve was a fully qualified and experienced Fleet Navigator, and could oversee his work when necessary, so that wasn’t as great a handicap as it would have been on other ships. “Navigator to Command, setting course 271:037, maximum speed run, aye aye, sir.”
Steve discreetly double-checked his settings on the Command console and nodded, satisfied. He waited as the last seconds ticked down on the time display.
At 04:25 precisely, the Plot lit up with three starburst icons around the planet. The Petty Officer First Class monitoring its console bolted upright in his chair. “Plot to Command, three small nuclear detonations in orbit, sir!”
“Command to Plot, aye. Break. Command to Navigator. Immediate departure.”
“Navigator to Command, aye aye, sir. Helm, make your heading 271:037. Engineering, drive full ahead.”
Pickle sprang to life like a racehorse bursting out of its starting stall, and spun on her heel to leave Devakai and Kodan Sastagan in her wake.
December 1-5, 2851 GSC
Steve looked up wearily from the display, his eyes red-rimmed and scratchy with tiredness, as a knock sounded at the closed door of his office. He heard Senior Lieutenant Laforet’s voice outside. “Ms. Bonaventura and Ms. Soldahl are here, sir.”
“Very well,” he called. “Just a moment.”
He closed the report he was in the process of writing, and blanked the display; then he took a moment to ensure that no other classified document or evidence was visible anywhere else in the office. Satisfied
, he pressed a button as he rose to his feet. The door unlocked with a faint click, and Juliette opened it from outside, ushering the diplomat and the journalist through ahead of her. Behind them, he could see Senior Chief Aznar and another spacer waiting in the passage, both wearing holstered sidearms, their faces impassive.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Marisela stormed as she entered, her face red with anger. “How dare you summon us here under armed escort, as if we were criminals?”
“Because as far as Lancastrian Commonwealth law and Fleet regulations are concerned, you are a criminal, ma’am – or, at the very least, an accessory to a crime,” Steve said icily. “I daresay the legal departments of the Fleet and the Secretariat of State will agree when we lay before them the evidence in our possession.”
Shock wiped the anger from Marisela’s face. “Wha – what on earth do you mean?”
“Please sit down, ma’am, and you too, Miss Soldahl,” Steve rejoined. He waited until they’d done so before sitting himself. He picked up a data chip from his desk. “Do you recognize this?”
“Y – yes, I think so. It looks like one of those you found in our building on Devakai.”
“That’s right. It was one of those used by Kotai agents to record everything they heard in the building. It included this rather interesting conversation between the two of you.” Using his console, he played back the conversation Peter Gallegros had brought to his attention. This was a cleaner, clearer copy, made directly from the data chip rather than recorded from Peter’s playback over the noise of the ship in his office.
