“Thank God,” gasped Crawford. The little white flecks, which indicated EMP bursts, were flickering all over the display as the clan ships fired their weapons. At the same time, the thousands of other green squares on the display were becoming green triangles—changing from ships drifting, to ships under power. The strike ships outside the fight were trying to close the range.
But after just a few moments, some of the green icons began to disappear.
“Well, they didn’t take out all the Venanci,” said Crawford grimly. “Damn, this could get ugly.”
“Signal from Flag,” announced the communications officer. “Execute Plan Gamma.”
“Acknowledge,” said Crawford. “Signal to squadron: ‘execute Gamma-two’.” He scarcely needed to think about this one, he’d been contemplating it for twenty minutes. A few seconds later, the acceleration alarm sounded and Crawford snapped at Lindquist: “Get in your couch, Lieutenant.”
“Oh! Yes, sir!” The young man seemed to suddenly realize he was still standing next to Crawford’s command chair instead of in his own. He quickly rectified the situation. Plan Gamma was intended to quickly close to engagement range to draw fire away from the clan strike ships. This would mean four minutes at maximum acceleration toward the Venanci and then eight minutes at maximum deceleration to avoid whipping past the enemy too fast to engage. At six gravities, even with the buffering effects of the artificial gravity system, it was going to be a rough twelve minutes for almost everyone except Crawford—and none too comfortable even for him.
“Hang on everyone, this is going to get a little rough.”
* * * * *
“Any news?” asked Regina anxiously.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said the com-tech. “Just that last word that the fleets have engaged. And with a twenty-minute com-lag, anything we get will be old news, anyway.”
“I see. Thank you.” Regina walked away, tapping her fingers nervously on her thighs. Damn this was frustrating! Three hundred and fifty million kilometers away a desperate battle was being fought. People she cared about were in mortal danger. One person she cared very much about was right in the thick of it.
And she was here, utterly unable to do a stinking thing.
If she’d had some work to do to distract her, it might not be so bad, but there wasn’t really anything. Bastet was in the process of placing the bombardment ‘devices’ into their proper orbits. It was an exacting job, but one for pilots and astrogators, not her. And it would take nearly another fifty hours to complete. They could have done it a lot faster using the ship’s six large cargo shuttles, but Doctor Ramsey had insisted that using the ship was safer and more accurate, and Regina had not fought him on the issue. So, as a result, she had nothing to do but fret and nag the communications people for news.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she had paperwork to do. Quite a lot, actually. Jeanine had been bringing her basket-loads all day. She claimed that it was stuff that had piled up while she was away, but most of it was so routine—things Jeanine usually handled herself—that Regina suspected Jeanine was simply trying to keep her so busy she didn’t have time to worry. Fat chance of that.
Jeanine had been so persistent in forcing paperwork on her that Regina had finally sent her off on some errand and then escaped—to go bug the communications people again. She was probably waiting impatiently back at the office right now—good reason not to go back there. But she had to go somewhere and she was so full of nervous energy, she didn’t want to sit down. Another tour of the ship? Why not? She headed aft.
She wandered through the living quarters, stopped briefly to chat with some people in one of the recreation lounges, and then continued toward the rear of the ship. The main corridor passed between the two huge boat bays on either side of the ship and Regina was surprised to see the hatch leading to it closed and with a security man posted there. She walked up to him, but he did not open the door.
“I need to get through, please,” she said politely. The man looked uneasy.
“Uh, the way is closed, ma’am. Authorized personnel only.”
“Why?”
“Not sure, ma’am, just that those are my orders.”
“Orders? Whose orders?”
“Uh, Lieutenant Hotchkiss, ma’am, he posted me here.”
She started to ask who had given Hotchkiss his orders, but she realized the man wouldn’t know that. She was tempted just to forget about it and take her walk elsewhere, but what was going on behind that door? “You can let me through, I have authorization.”
“I… don’t know, ma’am…”
“I’m Dame Regina Nassau, you know that. I outrank everyone on this ship except for the captain. Whatever orders you were given, I’m countermanding them. Now open the hatch and stand aside.”
The man looked really uncomfortable, but Regina crowded him back against the bulkhead and eventually he relented. The hatch slid open and she went through. It took her about ten seconds to realize what was going on.
The shuttles were gone.
The central corridor had large gallery windows overlooking the two boat bays, and one glance told her that all six of the large cargo shuttles were missing. The smaller shuttles and personnel pods were still there, but the big ones weren’t. However what was there instantly confirmed the suspicion which had taken shape inside her. Rows of stacked penetrator vehicles waited for the shuttles’ return.
“Oh my God,” hissed Regina. “I’m an idiot!” All the clues she had seen and ignored for the past weeks clicked into place and she knew what was happening.
But there was still time to stop this. She turned and…stopped.
The hatch she had just come through was now blocked by four security men. Just behind them was Doctor Ramsey, and behind him was Jeanine.
“Is there a problem, Dame Regina?” asked Ramsey with a slight smile.
“You know damn well there’s a problem! You will recall the shuttles immediately! Any penetrators they’ve deployed beyond those called for in the TEP will be recovered and returned to the armory! Once that’s done, you are relieved of any further involvement in this project.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Here’s what I think is going to happen: you are going to be confined and the TEP—my TEP—will be carried out. Just as the Protector directed.”
Regina looked at Ramsey and then looked at the four security men. Unlike Shiffeld’s newly recruited colonial police, these were professionals and she could see in their faces that they would carry out Ramsey’s orders.
“Jeanine! Get a message to Sir Charles! To Lord Frichette! Run!”
But Jeanine didn’t move. She looked away and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Ramsey’s smile grew larger. “Miss Sorvall doesn’t work for you anymore, do you, Miss Sorvall?” Jeanine twitched her head but still wouldn’t look at her.
“Jeanine, this is insane! Ramsey’ll kill a million people!”
“Me?” said Ramsey in mock surprise. “Why Dame Regina, I’m not going to kill anyone—you are.”
“What?” exclaimed Regina. Jeanine’s head came up.
“It’s really quite shocking, actually,” continued Ramsey. “Despite the governor’s explicit orders and contrary to the Protector’s wishes, you decided, on your own, to radically terraform this planet. The records—and many witnesses—will prove that you secretly substituted your own plan for the officially approved one. Such arrogance! But then your contempt for authority, your impatience with anything interfering with your plans, is well known. No one will have any trouble believing that you did this. How sad that you destroyed your career like this. How tragic that your madness cost so many lives. No doubt the locals will want justice and the governor will—reluctantly—have to turn you over to them to maintain our good relations. Perhaps he’ll be able to get the Citrone woman in exchange.”
Regina just stared with her mouth open. Her anger gave way to fear. She couldn’t say anything she was so shocked.
But Jeanine could. “Wait a
minute! You never said anything about this! You said it was just a modified TEP, not a full one! You said no one would get hurt! I never agreed to frame Reggie!”
“Oh dear, did I misjudge you, Miss Sorvall? Are you going to have to be confined as well as a participant of Dame Regina’s terrible conspiracy?”
Now Jeanine was frozen in place, but Regina wasn’t any longer. As the security men glanced back at Jeanine, she launched herself down the corridor and plowed into them full force. She, the security men, and Doctor Ramsey all went down in a flailing heap.
“Jeanine! Run!”
Within seconds, the security men had her on her feet and her arms pinned. Ramsey got up, dusted himself off, and looked around angrily. Jeanine was gone.
“Put this one in detention,” he said, indicating Regina. “And find the other one. Put her there, too.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“You will reestablish communication now, or I’ll have your head!” snarled Squadronlord Dardas. The ship lurched from another hit and the frantic technicians were sent sprawling. One pulled himself upright and assured him that they were doing their best.
Dardas nearly drew his sword and carried through with his threat, but the ship was shaking so frequently he doubted he’d be able to cross the short distance without falling and disgracing himself. This was impossible, simply impossible. Everything had been going so smoothly, the enemy was nearly helpless and would soon be forced to surrender—and now this! It was he and his ship—possibly all of his ships—which were helpless. Somehow those… things—he still didn’t know what they were—had crippled his ship, shorted out most of the electrical gear, shut down the drive, and left him blind and deaf.
Twenty or thirty minutes had gone by since that first, unexpected attack. Despite his frustration with them, his damage repair teams had actually responded brilliantly in the face of this totally unexpected situation. They had the auxiliary reactor online, the artificial gravity was operating, along with the lights and life support. Unless they could get the communications, sensors, and weapons running again, this was going to become a disaster. They had been pulling out and replacing circuit modules at a tremendous pace, but things were still not working.
In the wake of the first attack, nothing else noticeable had happened. Apparently those things had no other weapons than the ones they’d use to disable him. But now his ship was being hit, hit badly. Their motion had carried them into range of the Anderan ships and, even under manual control, their weapons were pounding them. The ship shook and groaned with each blow.
“This is unacceptable,” said Kolstar, breaking a long silence. “You will correct this immediately.”
“We are attempting to do just that, Purifier.”
“I can assure you that this gross… incompetence will be reported when we get home, Squardonlord.”
Dardas’s hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword. To accuse one of the Selected of incompetence was the direst of insults. He very nearly killed the purifier in that instant. “If you don’t stop distracting me, we will never get home so you can make your report,” he grated instead.
“Lord!” exclaimed one of the techs, cutting off any reply Kolstar might have had. “We have contacted Shiplord Siiracc on Princess Kars!” An instant later one of the monitors flickered back to life and he was staring at his subordinate. The man looked harried, but relieved.
“Siiracc, report,” he commanded.
“Lord, thank the Maker you still live! I had feared…”
“Save the gratitude for later, Siiracc! I am blind here, what is the situation?”
“Not good, Lord. The enemy’s cowardly ambush has disabled most of our ships to one degree or another. I have lost most of my sensors and only a third of my weapons are still operational. Schtorm, Mandjur, Kagoul, Axard, and your flagship are completely out of action. Only the cruiser Anadyr and the destroyer Koreitz escaped serious injury, but the enemy battleship concentrated its fire on them during our approach. Koreitz is a wreck and Anadyr badly damaged. And now that we have entered manual range of the enemy, all the rest of us are being hurt.” His remark was punctuated by a hard impact on his ship which shook the image. A moment later, Dardas was rocked in turn as Prince Ardagan was hit again. “I-I could have veered off with my ship and the others, but I couldn’t leave you to face the Anderans alone and helpless.”
“Your loyalty is noted and appreciated. What have we done to the enemy in return?”
“We concentrated what fire we had left at the battleship, per your last order, Lord, although as we closed we found that one of the enemy’s light cruisers and one destroyer had operational long-range weapons. The battleship is badly damaged and has only one of its main turrets left in action. We hurt the other two ships as much as we could with secondary fire. But now all their ships are in action…”
“Lord,” said one of the technicians. “We have the main display working again and we’ve tied into a sensor feed from Princess Kars.” Without waiting for further instruction, the man activated the display, and Dardas could look on the ruin of the Queen’s plans and his ambitions with his own eyes.
Of his ten ships, three of them, the battlecruiser, Archduke Schtorm, the cruiser, Duke Mandjur, and the destroyer, Koreitz, were listed as total losses; savaged beyond hope of repair under these circumstances. All the rest were damaged to a greater or lesser degree. Siiracc’s battlecruiser was mangled worse than he’d admitted if this readout was correct and the cruiser, Count Anadyr, wasn’t in much better shape. Of the four other destroyers, only one was still fighting back effectively. Disaster. What was he going to do?
As he sought frantically for an answer, several other displays came back on. One showed the status of his own ship, and while large portions of it were blank, he could see that the damage did not appear too severe and that some of the weapons were firing under manual control. A moment later, his tech-chief called to announce they had restored the drive and could produce a modest thrust with the auxiliary reactor. They weren’t finished yet, but what to do?
The display showed him that their initial vector was carrying them right through the enemy formation. The Anderan ships—and whatever those other things were—would soon be falling behind. Out of manual weapons ranges…
“Siiracc, pass my command to the squadron: any ship with a functioning drive is to proceed at maximum thrust. Open the range as quickly as they can.”
“Yes, Lord, but that will leave most of our ships behind…”
“There is no choice. All fire is to be concentrated on the battleship, cruiser, and destroyer with long-range weapons; we must knock them out.”
“Yes, Lord.”
Dardas paused and looked at the display, looked at where their course was taking them. “We have lost this battle, Siiracc. We cannot hope to seize the gate now—so we shall destroy it instead.”
* * * * *
“Looks like Felicity has had it, Sir Charles,” said Lieutenant Lindquist. “She’s falling out of formation and can’t keep up at this acceleration. Captain Chapman is reporting very heavy damage and heavy casualties.”
“Damn, I was pretty fond of that little ship,” said Crawford, trying not to think of the men and women he knew among the crew.
“The Venanci saw that she was a major threat and did their best to take her out.”
“Yeah. How’s New Umbria doing?”
“A little better, but still pretty bad, sir. She’s falling behind, too.”
“So, it’s up to Agamemnon and the rest of us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Indomitable shuddered as something tore into them and Crawford cursed. “Where did that come from?”
“Uh, that heavy cruiser, number two, sir.”
“Hell, I thought we’d finished that one.”
“Apparently not, sir. I hate to admit it, but the Venanci damage control seems to be a whole lot faster than ours.”
“Yeah, that’s not surprising. But damn it, let’s fini
sh that cruiser now while we’re still in range. Signal to squadron: concentrate fire on heavy cruiser two.” The order was passed and his ships focused their fire on the crippled Venanci ship. Shortly, there was no more fire coming from it.
“Signal from Flag, sir,” said the com-officer. “All ships, maximum thrust. Overtake and engage.”
“About time,” said Crawford. Three of the Venanci ships, two battlecruisers, and one destroyer had pulled out of range of the weapons under manual control and were heading straight for the gate site. Crawford didn’t have the slightest doubt about what their intentions were. The fact that the fleet had already destroyed, or was in the process of destroying, the other seven enemy ships didn’t satisfy him at all. That was his gate and a hell of a lot of his people who were at risk. He looked at the tactical display and cursed again. “Why the hell hasn’t Briggs started to move? Frichette ordered him out ten minutes ago!” The icons for Tosh Briggs’s squadron was still sitting by the construction site, although the clan support ships were starting to move.
The acceleration alarm sounded and Crawford was pressed back in his couch as the battlecruiser leapt ahead with every gram of thrust it could muster. It was even worse than the first dash to close the range and engage the Venanci. That had been harrowing enough. They had lunged toward the enemy and then reversed thrust to keep from flashing past them. Fortunately, most of the enemy ships had lost their drives to the clan attacks and could do nothing to avoid the Anderan ships bearing down on them.
Still, the difference in vectors pulled them past the Venanci after five very frightening minutes of close range fire. Those five minutes had seen massive damage dealt out and received for both fleets, but the large numerical superiority of the Anderans had tipped the balance. Each of the four squadrons had picked a target and just smothered it until it stopped firing, and then shifted fire to another ship. They had not destroyed all of their targets on the first pass, but now they had caught up to the crippled ones again and would soon leave them behind. Crawford did not think another pass would be needed. And in any case, the clan strike ships would be catching up to the cripples pretty soon and make sure they were finished.
Across the Great Rift Page 42
