Fleet Action wc-3

by William R. Forstchen

  Damn all of them, the Kilrathi, the political leaders back home that had led them into this fix, damn all of them.

  "Think we should lift off and get the hell out of here?" Jason asked. "We could punch our way through the picket screen.

  Vance shook his head.

  "And bring back what? One partially decoded message as proof. The peace party crowd would say it was cooked up to restart the war. A lone burst signal does not an ironclad case make."

  "They could be moving at any time now. We should be alerting ConFleet, they'll believe us."

  "Son, ConFleet will believe us, but they're the only ones. You've got to remember this as well. We don't exist as far as the government is concerned. There aren't more than half a dozen people off this ship who even know we're out here. How do you think it'd be presented if we go rushing back home and stand up to announce that we parked this ship clear on the other side of the Empire in clear violation of the armistice? The real truth of what we found would be lost in the screaming and protests not only from the Kilrathi but from some of our own people as well. It'd also blow the cover on this D-5 system. That's one of the problems with intelligence. If we make public what we've found, the Kilrathi will figure out just how capable our surveillance is and change their procedures and it might be years before we can break it back down again."

  Jason nodded. They'd need something hard, clearly recorded visuals, and even then some people would claim it was a fake out. Hell, the Kilrathi would most likely have to start kicking down the front door before anyone would act.

  "So we just sit here and wait."

  "Too bad this planet screens us from your friend Paladin. Maybe he might have something by now," Vance replied. "Hell, we're stuck here, unable to move and one ship out to scout. I doubt if he's even got within a hundred light years of their base."

  * * *

  Standing up to stretch, Prince Thrakhath growled softly as he continued to look at the screen which showed the latest intelligence report.

  The intelligence report from Jukaga matched that of what his own military chain of command had stated. Jukaga most likely knew that Thrakhath had his own lines of communications, and since the incident took place within a military command district he would find out about it almost immediately.

  Someone, almost undoubtedly from the Confederation, had penetrated right into the very system where the new fleet was being constructed. The translight radar sweep could only have been done by a very well outfitted spy ship, as no smuggler could afford to carry such equipment. Beyond that, the ship had been using Stealth masking. The fact that the humans had either learned the secret of Stealthing or captured such equipment was stunning. They were on to something. The question now was whether the information had gotten back to the Confederation and their fleet command. No burst signal could possibly cross such a distance. The spy ship had sent out three burst signals so far, all of them aimed towards the Paghk System, where a suspected ship was still being hunted. But no burst signal had come from that system to relay the message on.

  No, Confleet did not yet know.

  He turned to a holo projection, ordering up a map of the Paghk system, and then ordered a projection of jump lines and systems back to where the spy ship had been sighted. Next he ordered in a display of where the spy was now located, the position of ships in pursuit and where nearby ships might be located to move in to aid the chase. Finally he ordered a projection of jump lines from the Paghk system back towards the Confederation ship.

  The holo field was a maze of blue lines, blinking lights representing ships, and steady yellow lights representing the array of stars which were terminus points for the jump lines.

  He studied it intently, shifting, moving in the focus, calling up more data, formulating plans, then shifting the field yet again to examine another part, a side screen scrolling out data on the various ships available.

  Yet this was no simple intercept operation. There was a political consideration as well, involving Jukaga, and just what he might be doing in regards to this new situation. As he studied the holo projection Thrakhath developed his plan.

  He was interrupted by a paging call. It was the Emperor on an open line.

  "It is time that we leave for the ceremony," the Emperor said and then clicked off.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "We've picked up a threefold increase in signal traffic within the last six hours, chief."

  Vance nodded wearily, looking through the report handed to him by one of his assistants. He was exhausted. Against all rules of proper procedure, he had put his people on eight hour on, four hour off duty shifts. He knew exhaustion was cutting into their performance, that it'd be best to give everybody a day off to unwind, but it was getting too hot. Earlier in the day they had made a quantum jump in cracking Fleet Code A, bringing the translations up to nearly sixty percent. It was increasingly revealing the full extent of the conspiracy, ranging from continual updates of military actives and deployments around Earth, but also a thousand other details down to spare part requests, and shipping orders for the transport fleet that was slipping deep out into Hari space, hauling the millions of tons of supplies needed to build a new fleet from scratch. A signal earlier in the day reported the transfer of more than a thousand pilots, their plane maintenance crews and the fighter craft off of carriers in drydock, and thus supposedly deactivated to the reserves, to the new fleet.

  Something was definitely up. The Kilrathi were acting, but on what, and for what reason? And now the signal increase.

  "We're also getting ship to ship communication increase within this system. Two light cruisers have moved in along with one heavy cruiser just detected."

  That made Vance sit up and take notice. He looked at the report that the analyst pointed out on the screen, a real time translation of the messages, broadcast on a low priority code racing across the screen.

  "They're setting up for an intercept from the looks of things," Vance said "Send a messenger down to Captain Bondarevsky, tell him to come here at once."

  There were times when security got on his nerves. All communication lines between the fighter bay and the rest of the ship had been sealed off based upon the near infinitesimal chance that a member of the ship's crew, and one of his own people might collaborate in trying to get information off the ship.

  The analyst turned and started for the door while Vance punched over to his head of Alpha team security, informing the captain to let the analyst pass into the ship and return with Jason.

  A side channel suddenly leaped into activity on the display screen, originating from inside the system they were now occupying. It was one of the standard Confleet bands. But from where?

  The D-5 had already locked on to it, a reflected signal skipping over the horizon of the planet, the message breaking up. "Just what the hell is this?" Vance whispered, turning more of the computer's power loose from other activities to focus in on the signal and enhance it.

  It was an audio signal, and he turned on a speaker.

  "Green one, Green one, this is Green two over."

  "That's Paladin!"

  Vance turned to see Jason coming up behind him.

  "Green one, where the hell are you, am under attack, over.

  "Where's it coming from?" Jason asked.

  "Looks like from directly on the other side of the planet. Getting some skip through the atmosphere, wait a second."

  He typed in a quick order and the D-5 turned one of its antenna array to aim at the small moon of the planet which was nothing more than an oversized rock orbiting half a million clicks overhead.

  "Getting a reflection signal from the moon as well, give me a second here . . ." and he punched in another command.

  "There, got it. Triangulate the signal as coming from near directly behind us, thirty five million clicks back."

  "Straight back towards the jump point towards Hari," Jason said, turning to look at a holo map of the system which one of Vance's assistants activated, a blinki
ng yellow dot showing where Paladin must be.

  "We're getting in the clear attack signals from the Kilrathi cruisers, one of them is launching fighters," the assistant announced.

  "They're moving in to cut Paladin off," Jason said quietly, looking at the map which was now showing the enemy ships in the sector. Several corvettes were already moving to set up a picket across the jump point leading out towards Confederation space while the cruisers positioned themselves for an easy kill.

  "Either they found him out before he got the information, or after he picked it up; it's one of the two," Vance said quietly.

  "Why are you telling me this?" Jason asked, suddenly aware that Vance was staring at him in a coldly detached way.

  "If he doesn't have the data, and we go up to try and save him, our cover is blown and we'll have to get the hell out. For that matter I wonder if we can get out now considering the hardware they've brought in here."

  "Are you suggesting that I do nothing and let them blow Paladin and Ian apart?"

  "The mission comes first, Captain."

  "And suppose he does have the data we need?"

  "I haven't heard it yet, and frankly, son, his chances of finding them were slim to none to start with when we sent him on alone."

  Jason looked back at the screen.

  "Green one, Green one, am under attack, where the hell are you?"

  Jason closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts, while. Paladin's insistent call for help echoed across the deck.

  "Green one, Green one, this is Green two over."

  Paladin, exasperated and filled with a frustrated rage, punched the channel off and slammed his fist down on the console.

  To have come so far back and now to be cut off. The next jump point out of this system was blocked, and already half a dozen ships which had been pursuing him for days were coming through behind, a fact made worse by the more than fifty patrol craft and three cruisers currently in the sector. The heavy cruiser was already launching its squadron of fighters which would close with him within the hour.

  The game was up and Bannockburn was about to get fried. As soon as he had jumped, the pickets waiting on the far side plastered him with high energy radar bursts and then threw on laserlocks he simply couldn't shake.

  Just before they hit him he'd try one more burst signal, feeding every erg of power he had into it, but the chance of it reaching Confed space at this range was remote and made even more implausible by the fact that it was dicey at best if someone had a listening array focused on this region. If only he knew where Tarawa was he could transfer the info off and the they'd have the power to punch a signal through, plus they would also know where to aim it for an intercept.

  "Damn it all to hell, if I get out of this I quit," Paladin snarled. "I'm heading back to Scotland and I'll be damned if I ever let my two feet get off the ground again.

  "Ian, you'd better launch now. I'm glad that the Admiral managed to get a jump capable Ferret tucked into this ship's cargo bay. I thought he was a wee bit crazy trying that out. I'm ordering you to break off and try and make it through the jump point. I'm loading the information into your fighter's computers now. You've got to get that information back to Confed territory. Tarawa's either gone or bought it."

  Ian looked over at Paladin. He knew Paladin was right. The swarm of enemy fighters was closing.

  He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

  Paladin looked up and forced a smile.

  "Lift one for me at the Vacuum Breathers Club, laddie. Now get the hell out of here."

  Ian turned and headed for the door.

  "Good luck, Paladin."

  Paladin shook his head and laughed.

  Ambassador Vak'ga paused for a moment and looked back at the holo image on his desk. Again he felt the tug of pain and silently cursed himself for still feeling it. After all, the mourning should have ended on the first Sivar after the death of his sons. That was, after all, six years back. But no, the pain had never stopped. His seed was gone and when he died, his hrai would die with him.

  He thought yet again of the agreement he had made with Prince Thrakhath on the eve before leaving for Earth. When Thrakhath had first suggested it to him his blood had burned with the thought of at last gaining vengeance. But now, it was so cold, there was no rage, no pain, just a detachment, a coldness, as if the goddess had already reached into his heart to still its beating.

  The coded message to commit the act had arrived this morning, and soon the pain would stop. At least I will see my sons again, my sons taken from me by the humans. At least we will again embrace and go forth on the hunt with our ancestors.

  He thought of the detonator and antimatter explosive buried in his chest cavity. Strange, there will be nothing more of me, nothing to be found to be buried. Fitting perhaps, since there will be no one to mourn me.

  The Ambassador walked out of his office, not even bothering to close the door.

  * * *

  "How are you doing, Geoff? It's damn good to see you again."

  Admiral Banbridge came around from behind his desk, hand extended. Former Rear Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn grasped it, and to his surprise Banbridge grabbed hold of him in a friendly bear hug. Turning he looked at Kevin, who stood at attention, and smiled.

  "I heard you're one of the fleet's best," Banbridge said approvingly.

  Geoff smiled broadly at the compliment to his nephew. The long transit back to Landreich, and from there hidden aboard a high speed smuggler craft to Earth, had given him the opportunity, for the first time, to really find out just who his nephew truly was. In the back of his mind, in spite of Kevin's actions aboard Tarawa, he still perceived him as a child. That was now dispensed with, their relationship changing to the close bond that can form between an uncle or father, and his son who is now a man.

  "Kevin, I hate to ask this, but would you mind waiting for us? My steward will show you a damn nice shower and cook up some food for you."

  Kevin saluted and followed the steward into the rear of the small apartment Banbridge had down in the basement of Fleet headquarters.

  "He reminds me of you at that age, Geoff," Banbridge said with a smile, as he led his old student into his office and closed the door.

  "Glad you're back safe. Have a seat and fill me in."

  Geoff settled down into the proffered chair, his old boss sitting down across from him.

  "First of all, what the hell was this signal you had me send?"

  As Geoff explained Banbridge's features lit up.

  "Same trick we Americans once used against the Japanese at Midway with the fake report of a water distillery breaking down. The Japanese picked it up and reported to their fleet that retarget X was short of water, and by that little trick we knew their next target was Midway. Vance always did know his history."

  "Have we had any word yet from out there? Since I left Landreich I've been out of touch."

  Admiral Banbridge shook his head and Geoff silently cursed.

  "What's been happening back here on Earth?"

  Banbridge blew out noisily and reached around to his desk, pulling out two glasses and a small decanter of port wine, pouring out a drink for himself and Tolwyn.

  "The damn fools are eating up the crap that Vak'ga and Jukaga keep feeding them. Hell, Rodham has even agreed to a cultural exchange, with a bunch of Kilrathi singer's and dancers coming to Earth next month. The damn brie and wine crowd at the capital are eating it up, begging for tickets to the performance. The Chief of Staff raised holy hell about it, pointing out that we'd have over a hundred Kilrathi running around the capital and damn near everyone of them an intelligence operative. He was hooted down by Jamison and told to, 'relax, the war is over.'"

  "It's nuts, I tell you. Anyone who talks about preparedness, about keeping the fleet appropriations up, is denounced as a war monger."

  "And just how is the fleet?" Tolwyn asked.

  "Four fleet carriers are still on line.

  "Jus
t four?"

  "It's worse. Two of them are drydocked at the moment but it's claimed they can be brought back up to operational status within thirty days.

  "What about the others?"

  "In drydock, reactors pulled, crews on extended leave."

  "What the hell for?"

  Banbridge sighed.

  "Jamison convinced the President, and he convinced the Senate, that if the Kilrathi were going to make a move we'd have plenty of warning and she pointed out that all but six of the Kilrathi carriers had been put into inactive reserve as well. So as a cost cutting measure the carriers were pulled in for major refitting and overhaul. Getting them on line could take up to three months."

  "God help us," Tolwyn whispered, draining his glass and then accepting a refill.

  "Forty-eight percent of the rest of the ships of the fleet are still on line, the rest are skeleton crewed in reserve. Operationally we're losing our edge. Flight training time for the fighters has been cut by nearly half, even our main battle fleet ships still in active service, our heavy cruisers, are tied off with crews on leave. It'd take weeks, maybe a month to two months to even get one full Task Force Group organized and back on line.

  "What's worse is the freeze on construction. We should have had a new fleet carrier and four more cruisers operational by now and a number of other ships started. We tried to get through a government decree requiring all shipyard works to stay on their jobs; that caused a hell of an uproar and some of our best technicians are quitting to look for work else where. Key war industries, which during hostilities were forbidden to strike, are now having walkouts with people wanting higher wages, made worse by what looks like an economic depression due to a freeze on new defense contracts.