He looked at the status plot boards. Only twenty-nine Broadswords and twenty modified Sabres were armed and ready for a second strike. Already the Kilrathi were sending up their next strike wave which was even stronger than their first as they shifted craft over from defensive to offensive operations. He turned back to his strategic communications officer, who was burst signal linked back to Earth.
"Latest reported position of Saratoga?"
"Still six hours twenty-one minutes short of jump point 3A."
Geoff looked back at his main nav screen. Jump Point 3A, the connecting link back from Sirius towards Earth was an hour behind him.
Saratoga would never come up in time to help repel the next attack, let alone be able to aid in a second strike.
"Signal all ships by laser link. We are withdrawing from Sirius."
His bridge crew looked around at him startled.
"We'll be swarmed under in the second strike. If I thought we had a chance of hitting them back hard enough, I'd do it. There's no sense in dying for no reason."
"What about Sirius, sir?" a helm ensign asked angrily. "Damn it, sir, that's my home."
"Son, it's finished whether we stay here and die, or leave. We need time to repair damaged planes, get Leyte's port launch bay back on line and prepare a second strike. Saratoga will nearly double our heavy strike fighter strength if we fall back on her."
The ensign looked around, realizing he had spoken way out of turn to a full admiral. He started to open his mouth again and was restrained by his section lieutenant who took him by the shoulder and turned him away.
Gilead, the smaller of the two worlds, was already flaming ruins. Sirius Prime, thirty nine million clicks to port, was now wide open and already a section of Kilrathi cruisers was turning towards it. He didn't even want to think about how many people were down there.
"Helm, turn us about. Let's get the hell out of here," he snarled.
"Recall those cruisers now!"
Prince Thrakhath turned to gaze coldly at Baron Jukaga.
"Growing soft, my good Baron?"
"Your senseless barbarism will only arouse them further. You've made your point, now spare the second planet. Show mercy and it still might weaken their will."
"Terror breeds terror, Baron."
"Terror can also breed fanaticism and hatred. Your demonstration at Warsaw did not intimidate the humans, instead it caused them to stop their internal bickering and unite. You know nothing of humans. Senseless bombardments of their civilian populations have always tended to unite them. The deliberate destruction of entire worlds with radiation will cause them to fight us tooth and nail to the death rather than surrender."
"And that s what you wanted, wasn't it, surrender?"
The Baron attempted to control his loathing and rage.
"You are a barbarian," he snapped. "We could have undermined them, let their natural weaknesses play into our hands. You have gone on a rampage and destroyed eleven of their worlds so far, and their fleet is still intact.
"We just crippled it, or weren't you watching?"
"They still have fight left in them. Remember, Prince Thrakhath, the new fleet is to serve two purposes: one to win this war, and second to prepare us for the Mantu if they should ever return. You are now gambling that fleet in your drive for vengeance on the humans."
"Not vengeance, extinction."
Sickened, the Baron turned away. He knew now that the accusations were right. Study one's enemy for too long and in the end you might come to admire them. He did not admire the humans, the very essence of his nature prevented that, but he could acknowledge them as something more than mere prey to be slaughtered. His plan, if it had been allowed to be played out, might very well have resulted in a near bloodless victory, a Confederation completely divided, lulled by peace, and then psychologically overwhelmed when the dozen new carriers appeared. It all suddenly became very clear.
"You allowed that recon ship of the humans to slip into Hari space and then allowed it to escape. You wanted the peace ended, didn't you?"
"In spite of your claims of intellect, Baron, you are often rather slow at figuring things out."
"You wanted this war to end in a blood bath. You were the one who triggered the bomb in the human headquarters.
Prince Thrakhath smiled.
"You were never a prisoner of the humans. I was. You have not lost comrades to them, I have. I shall rise to the Imperial Throne, hailed as the conqueror of the humans and winner of this war, while as for you . . ." and he leaned over, touching a button on his console.
The doors to his wardroom were flung open and four Imperial Marine guards stepped in.
"Escort the Baron to his quarters and make sure he is very comfortable."
"Are you arresting me?"
Prince Thrakhath shook his head.
"Let us say that there are certain questions to be asked of you later, once the battles are completed and I am secure in my victory."
Baron Jukaga smiled coldly.
"Don't underestimate Tolwyn and his people. They are not finished yet."
"They soon will be, Baron," and he laughed coldly as Jukaga was lead from the room.
"How are you, Geoff?"
Geoff looked up in surprise as "Big" Duke Grecko walked into his private quarters.
Geoff started to get up from his cot and Duke motioned for him to relax while he pulled a chair around and sat down across from Tolwyn.
"What the hell are you doing out here, Duke?"
"Can't keep the Marines in port when the action starts. I'm not interfering out here, Geoff, but I thought I should come out and have a look."
"You got the after action report then?"
Duke nodded glumly.
"It was relayed up to my frigate a couple of hours ago."
"I screwed up, Duke. I should have fallen back from Sirius and then held here with Saratoga joined in for the strike."
"You couldn't abandon Sirius without a fight. Civilian morale would have gone off the deep end."
"So we lose two carriers and still lose Sirius."
"At least you bloodied them."
"One old carrier destroyed, one damaged and one of their new carriers reported heavily damaged, but no kills on the new fleet. Which is what I wanted.
"We're reporting that big carrier as dead for now," Duke said quietly.
"I never liked doing that."
"Sometimes we have to, and for all practical purposes it is dead at the moment."
"So what do you want, Duke?" Geoff asked, cutting straight to the point.
"I'm ordering you to fall back on Earth."
"What? Hell, Duke, if they break our line there they'll fry Earth in a matter of minutes.
"I know, but we've been busy. By the time you pull back, Lexington and Ark Royal will be on line."
"How? The jump engines on Lex and Ark Royal were fully out for realignment, and core reactors had been dumped."
"If we're fighting inside the home system we won't need jump engines and both ships have one reactor back up and running."
"They'll be sitting ducks."
"They'd be sitting ducks in the dockyard anyhow. At least they can still launch fighters."
Though neither one said it, they both knew as well that the two additional carriers would serve as targets, forcing the Kilrathi to spread out their attack.
"Mars is the closest planet in towards the jump line," Duke continued. "We've packed every landing field there full of every damn fighter, trainer, and even civilian light craft."
"You've got to be kidding. I stripped out every good plane and pilot before I left. Put what's left into space and they'll die like flies."
Duke nodded.
"And the Kilrathi will burn up ammunition while some of our people still get in for another strike."
He knew it was better than a desperate stand out here with no hope of winning. If he stood now, it'd only delay the inevitable by maybe a day or two at most.
"Our psych analysis people tell me that even if you abandon this key jump point, Thrakhath will not spread out into the inner worlds until he completes his kill of you and Earth. The bastard hates your guts, according to psych, for too many humiliations. He wants your hide almost as much as he wants Earth. He'll follow you straight in."
"You know, Duke," Geoff said quietly, "even with the additional material and manpower, they still have us. You saw what happened to my last strike, and those boys were the finest pilots in the fleet."
"I know, Geoff, I know. But there's one more idea I sort of cooked up on my own, that might help things out."
"What?"
And as Duke told him, Admiral Tolwyn came to his feet.
"You're mad, Duke, that's senseless murder. You're bloody mad to even think of it."
"And that's why it might work," Duke said with a cold smile.
"My lord Thrakhath."
He turned to look at a holo display of his bridge captain.
"The latest report, sire."
"Go on."
"The human fleet is turning about, retreating back towards Earth."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, my lord."
That caught him slightly off guard. He had thought that Tolwyn would make his final stand here. One system past Sirius, eight jump lines diverged outward into the inner worlds of the Confederation and also back outwards towards the frontier. Control of the next system would be a major victory in and of itself. Yet he was abandoning it now without a fight. Damn him.
"Latest intelligence report?"
"Three carriers still confirmed with their Third Fleet. Intelligence is still working on their latest code but we have picked up a civilian channel reporting that a carrier left its Earth base six hours ago, and that a second carrier is moving up to join the fleet. The signal was from one of their news stations and its coding simple to break."
"The stupid fools."
"Our latest damage report?"
"Tarvakh is still contending with internal fires, all three forward launch bays are closed. Yu'ba'tuk's main shield generator is still off line and one launch bay closed."
"Secondary shielding?"
"At ninety-one percent, expected to upgrade to ninety— three within the hour."
"Fighter losses?"
"Heavy, sire. Seven eight-of-eights and two eights today. Eight eight-of-eights and five eights total."
Not good at all . The Empire could invest all it wanted on new carriers that were next to indestructible, but at the core, it still came down to having fighters that were equal to or better than the latest Confederation designs, and pilots who were trained to fly them. It had always been the weak edge. Except for the handful of Stealth fighters possessed by the Empire, fighter design and pilot training had never fully kept up with that of the humans. The emergencies of the last two years had forced them to repeatedly reach into the academies and throw half-trained cadets into action — where most of them died within a matter of days. The survivors were tough, but there were always too few.
He looked at what he had left and made his decisions.
"Order Tarvakh to transfer her remaining fighters to my flagship. That will make good on our losses. Detail off," and he paused to look at the status of the three surviving older carriers. "Detail off Notakgak and Darthuka and their support ships to escort Tarvakh back to the Empire. Both the retreating carriers to transfer their heavy strike squadrons to this ship as well. Order the flanking cruiser squadrons to join us in the next sector forward. Their fighters will equal those we lose from Notakgak and Darthuka. Order the fleet to move up to flank speed in pursuit. When we reach the next jump point send the first wave of light corvettes and minesweeps through first, followed by cruisers in case they are waiting in ambush."
The officer bowed in reply.
"The cruiser squadron detailed to the main planet of this system has suppressed the planetary defenses, my lord. They are awaiting orders."
Prince Thrakhath smiled.
"Annihilate the planet, and then we go for Tolwyn and Earth."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Transjump completed, Prince Thrakhath stood up, expectant. A tremor of excitement coursed through him. Involuntarily his talons extended and he felt saliva filling his mouth. He waited, heart racing as the jump point confirmation flashed across the main screen of the battle bridge. Optical scanners swept space and then finally locked on to what the Prince was seeking. Magnification and computer enhancements kicked in and the image zoomed in, expanding.
Earth floated in the middle of the screen. A growl of triumphal shouts echoed on the battle bridge, a total breakdown of discipline that he was willing, at least this once, to ignore and forgive, as his own howl of triumph mingled in with that of his crew.
"Signal the fleet on an open channel, Thrakhath roared and his communications officer opened the line.
"Today we shall watch Earth burn. Long live the Emperor and the Empire. Standard battle formation, advance full speed ahead!"
"They're starting to advance," Duke Grecko said quietly.
Geoff Tolwyn said nothing, intently studying the long range tactical display, as the information was relayed in by a line of picket ships pulling back ahead of the Imperial Fleet.
The advance came straight on with a defiant certainty. There was no elaborate maneuvering, no attempts at tactical ploys. The Kilrathi main battle fleet came on in a solid mass, arrogant in its overwhelming power.
"I'd better get to my ship," Duke said.
"Your tactical plan is suicidal, Duke. Ship-to-ship fighting isn't a Marine job. Leave it to the fleet. And by God, Duke, boarding is something straight out of Nelson and Trafalgar."
"I'll be damned if we're sitting this fight out, so don't argue with me about it."
Geoff looked over at him, smiled, and took his old friend's hand.
"All right, it just might work. But you know, Duke, the proper place for the Head of Joint Chiefs is back at headquarters on Earth."
Duke sniffed angrily.
"Look, Geoff. Up until they decided to make me a hero after Vukar I was a line officer. Being in command of the whole show was never my plan. I'll be damned if I hide in a bunker while my grunts are fighting for survival. Anyhow, I've always wanted to lead a battle like this."
"Leading men in a desperate battle, against impossible odds?" Tolwyn said with a smile. "What are you, the reincarnation of Patton?"
"Don't let anyone in on the secret, Geoff"
"Take care, Duke."
"God speed and good hunting, Geoff. I'll see you at sundown."
Geoff laughed softly and walked his commander off the bridge and down the corridor to the starboard launch bay. Fighters were lined up down the length of the deck, crews going over last minute checks, armament teams finishing up loading, and repair crews off to one side, struggling to salvage and bring back into the fight craft damaged in the Battle of Sirius.
A Marine landing craft was on the launch line, pilots standing by the open door, talking with the launch officer. At the sight of Grecko approaching they stiffened, came to attention and saluted.
"At ease, boys. Fire the engine up and let's get to work."
Geoff saluted Duke, who looked back at him and smiled.
"Give them hell, Geoff," and then he was gone, the entry hatch closing behind him and snicking shut.
Geoff stood back from the launch line as the deck launch officer stepped up forward and beside the Marine landing craft. She held her hand to her ear protectors, waiting to hear from the senior launch officer that Marine 1 was cleared. She saluted the pilot when word of clearance was passed, crouched down and pointed forward. The landing craft started forward, clearing the airlock, then kicked on full afterburners and, turning to starboard, disappeared.
Thirty million clicks beyond the airlock Mars hovered in the darkness, a bright point of red light. Thin lines of reflected silver light moved past the airlock, hundreds of light civilian ships heading outward, with seve
ral hundred Marine landing craft moving in the middle of the formation.
Geoff felt sick at heart watching them and turned heading back up the corridor. He was already late for the final briefing and he moved purposefully down the main corridor into the pilot quarters and ready room.
"Attention!"
Geoff came into the ready room, his features set, and reached the lectern. He looked out at his pilots.
Nearly half the faces were new, many of them cadets pulled straight out of the Academy to replace the losses from Sirius.
God, we're sending children out now.
"At ease. Be seated."
"I'll keep this short, we don't have much time. You'll be pleased to know that Lexington has just cleared dry dock, carrying fifty-seven fighters. That'll give us five fleet carriers for this action."
Actually he knew it was almost meaningless. Lexington was coming up with just a little more than half her complement and running on secondary reactor power only. It was nothing more than bait, moving ahead of Concordia, Saratoga, Ark Royal and Leyte Gulf. With three hundred additional fighters sortied up from Mars and Earth orbital bases, there'd be just over six hundred fighters, half of them with green crews who'd never seen action beyond a flight simulator.
"You know your missions. Blue Three, you're flying Combat Air Patrol over the carriers. Blue Two, you're escorting in the Broadswords."
He could see Blue Three was less than amused, getting stuck in a purely defensive role. Blue Two knew what was going to happen to her but didn't display a flicker of emotion. The Kilrathi would turn their full fury on the Broadswords and Sabres, and with less than eighty making up the strike and eighty escorts, the chances of any of them coming back was nil.
He hesitated for a second.
"Blue One, you have the second strike escort slot. It's going to be grim. You have to remember what the final objective is, and remember that they're all volunteers out there."
His nephew looked up at him and forced a smile. Geoff paused and looked over at the tactical display flickering in the briefing room's holo.
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