by Dietmar Wehr
“Are we going to be able to halt our descent?” asked the co-pilot in a stressed voice.
“Of course, we can,” said Eagleton in what he hoped was a convincing tone. He actually wasn’t 100% certain that he was right. When the ship dropped through the clouds, he saw that they were a lot lower than he had expected, and he applied full power to the vectored maneuvering thrust. The rate of descent dropped slowly until the corvette had stopped descending only half a kilometer above the ground. As the ship began to rise again, Eagleton reduced power enough so that they were now rising slowly and shook his head. That was cutting it too goddamn close. A quick 360-degree visual scan showed no signs of buildings, roads or survivors. He carefully increased vertical thrust in order to regain altitude faster so that they could scan a much wider area.
“I think I see a road in the distance to the right,” said the co-pilot.
Eagleton looked over at the display, which was showing the view in that direction. “Is that max zoom?” he asked. The co-pilot nodded. Eagleton checked his controls. “We’re almost up to the cloud cover again, so no point in going any higher. I don’t see anything else, do you?”
“Nothing,” came the reply.
“Okay, we’ll head for the road, then follow it until we find a city or town or what’s left of them.”
It was almost half an hour later when they started seeing the wreckage of what had been small buildings, then small towns, and finally, off in the distance, a huge crater with a ring of destroyed buildings around it. The ground was covered with a grey ash that looked deeper the closer they got to the crater. When the corvette was over the crater, it was obvious to Eagleton that the impact of the kinetic energy missile had hit dead center in the city. The bottom of the crater was already starting to fill with water from ground water seepage and rain. With no signs of life, Eagleton ordered the co-pilot to follow the road that was headed for the planet’s equator, under the theory that the falling temperatures would encourage any survivors to head to warmer areas of the planet. Neither of them said another word as the corvette left the crater behind.
Harrow was starting to get seriously annoyed. It was now five hours since Eagleton’s one and only FTL message, and she wanted to know what was happening. Goddammit! In hindsight, she should have ordered him to report at specific intervals. She was just about to order another corvette to launch and head for the planet to look for the Angel of Death when the tactical display pinged to announce an incoming message.
[EAGLETON TO TFL. VERY LOW LEVEL RECONNAISSANCE HAS TURNED UP SMALL, SCATTERED GROUPS OF SURVIVORS. TOTAL NUMBER SEEN ESTIMATED TO BE LESS THAN 200. SEVERAL CITIES WERE OBSERVED TO HAVE BEEN HIT AND DESTROYED BY KINETIC ENERGY PROJECTILES. THICK CLOUD COVER AND DUST MAKES HIGH LEVEL RECON IMPOSSIBLE. ANGEL D IS RETURNING. ETA IS APPROX. 13 MINUTES. MY CREW AND I WILL EACH NEED A STIFF DRINK WHEN WE DOCK. GOD DAMN THOSE TYRELL BASTARDS! END OF MESSAGE.]
Harrow made sure that she was at the docking hatch when Angel of Death was once again securely docked. Gort was first to exit the ship, and the haunted look on his face said it all.
“We recorded lots of visuals, Admiral. You’re welcome to review them, but I would prefer not to have to see that carnage again. We only found three cities because of the low altitude and slow speeds, but my gut tells me that those bastards must have hit every city on the planet to kick up that much dust into the upper atmosphere. With your permission, I’ll head for the gym. I’ve got a lot of anger to let out.”
Harrow nodded and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. She watched as he walked a few meters and then turned back around to look at her.
“I’m going to enjoy killing as many of those bastards as I possibly can when we get to their home system.”
Harrow walked over to him and said in a low voice, “We have to watch that we don’t fall into the trap of judging an alien race by our own standards, Gort. We have no idea why they did this. They may have had what they considered to be a rational reason for what they did.”
Eagleton shook his head emphatically. “No. That wasn’t a rational act. That was the act of a mad dog, and there’s only one thing you can do with a mad dog, Cate. You have to kill it.” Without waiting to see if she replied, he turned and resumed walking away.
It was two hours later when Harrow had finished reviewing the recorded images and she knew exactly how Gort felt. It took all her self-discipline to keep the anger at bay. What made the situation even worse was that there was nothing that the Task Force could do to help the few survivors that Gort had found. They couldn’t drop shelters or survival equipment because they didn’t have any, and human food posed a risk of contaminating the survivors with Earth-based bacteria and viruses that would almost certainly be more deadly to the Sheepul survivors than their own planet was now. The Sheepul were on their own. Harrow knew she had to send a report back to EAF HQ, and it would be best if the report didn’t reflect her own anger, but that was easier said than done. By the time another hour had gone by, she had finished a draft that had been revised half a dozen times. By then, she was also feeling the effects of fatigue and decided to review the draft message after getting a few hours of sleep. The Task Force had micro-jumped almost a light year away from the Sheepul star system and was coasting while the impact of the recon mission was absorbed by the crew. There was no rush to send the report. The timing of the report would not change the fortunes of Sheepul survivors at all, and the second phase of the mission to the Tyrell home system would not be affected either. In fact, she was convinced that giving Gort and his crew a bit more time to vent their rage before facing the Tyrell in combat was a wise move. Somehow, he would have to dig deep to find the focus and self-control necessary to stay cool during combat. Rage would only get him killed, and she didn’t want that. He was the best friend she had. A tiny voice in the back of her mind reminded her that friends sometimes do get killed in wars. She told the voice to shut up, and let her mind drift off to sleep.
Chapter Twelve:
EAF HQ on Earth:
Mirakova was shown into the spacious office of her civilian boss, the Director of Earth Defenses. He was seated at his desk and didn’t bother to look up as she walked briskly over to stand in front of him. Since he was a civilian, she was not required to salute him and she waited for him to look up. When he finally did so, she realized from his expression that this was not going to be a friendly chat.
“Our representative on the Alliance Council has just finished passing on to me the Council’s outrage at what happened to the Sheepul as a result of our lack of support.” His pause gave her time to realize that he wasn’t going to invite her to sit down as he usually did and that his icy tone masked a temperament that was boiling mad.
“The other members of the Alliance have rejected our explanation of why we held back our carriers. They’ve accused us of everything ranging from being untrustworthy to outright cowardice. Two of the Council representatives have actually threatened to withdraw from the Alliance altogether! This is the kind of blowback that your strategic decision has generated, Admiral, and I want you to understand what kind of shitstorm is now breaking over your head! You’re lucky that I started this day in a good mood because if I hadn’t, you would no longer be CEO of the EAF! I came this close—“ he held his hand up with thumb and forefinger slightly apart, “—to offering you up as a sacrificial lamb to appease the Council. Instead of that, we humans have agreed to some of the demands from the rest of the Council. The first one is our participation in the defense of the Korel. They’re the newest member of the Alliance. They happen to be the furthest away from us of any Alliance member, and the date of the Tyrell attack on them is closer than any other attack date. That date is 233 days from now. The Korel want the Tyrell attack force to be ambushed at its staging area. Task Force One should be back by then. Let’s hope that your choice of Cate Harrow as Task Force Leader doesn’t turn out to be another blunder. In any case, our next two carriers should also be operational by then. But inste
ad of the new carriers carrying our corvettes, we’ve agreed to condition number two, which is that they will carry squadrons from Alliance members, and therefore the carriers will have to be modified to accommodate those alien crews.” He paused when he saw Mirakova shake her head.
“Not possible, Director. My people have already looked at what would be involved in having mixed crews, and the kinds of modifications needed are so drastic that Ticonderoga and Trafalgar would not be ready that quickly.”
“I’m not prepared to accept any excuses, Admiral, and neither is the Council. If you want to keep your position and title, then you had better find a way to make this work in the time remaining, and I don’t care how you do it. Any questions?”
Mirakova thought quickly. “Determining which star system the Tyrell will use as a jumping off point for the Korel attack will involve recon assets that we’ll have to pull away from pinpointing the rest of their empire.”
“That’s not a question, Admiral. Do you have a question or not?”
“Yes. Will you authorize, in writing, the diverting of recon assets away from the Long Range Detection mission in order to pinpoint the Korel attack staging system?”
“Not in writing, no. I can see what you’re trying to do, Admiral. You want me to let you off the hook by putting those orders in writing with my signature at the bottom. No fucking way. This task is all yours. If the ships aren’t ready on time or the staging system hasn’t been identified in time, it’ll be your neck that gets chopped off, not mine, and if you don’t like it, I’ll be happy to accept your resignation right now.”
Mirakova was sorely tempted to do just that. She strongly suspected that this mission was designed to fail so that she would have to take the blame and either resign or be fired in disgrace. Inter-species politics was rearing its ugly head just as she had feared. The next step in the alien agenda was obvious to her even if it wasn’t to the Director. Her failure would be used as the excuse to demand that the top Alliance military officer be a non-human. Given that Earth was bearing the biggest share of the military load and was providing most of the ships and crews, having them take orders from an alien did not seem fair or prudent to her, and she was determined to prevent it at all costs.
“Do I get to name the mission commander for the Korel ambush?” she asked.
“Yes. For reasons that I frankly don’t understand, the other members of the Council did not demand one of their own be in command, and we didn’t offer it, so you lucked out there, Admiral. Any other questions?”
“No, Director.”
“Good! Now get the hell out of my sight!” snarled the Director.
Mirakova did not waste any time leaving the Director’s office. Naming the Mission Commander for the Korel Ambush was something that could wait for a while. Getting Ticonderoga and Trafalgar capable of operating with mixed crews was now her top priority. Her planning staff had better get used to burning the midnight oil. No would be going home at a reasonable time until they had figured out how to modify the carriers and still have them available when needed. She was determined that the Korel Mission would not be a failure, even if it meant kicking a few butts and chopping a few heads. It was time to get to work.
Task Force One Flagship (Ranger):
Harrow sighed. She had known all along that attacking the Tyrell home star system wouldn’t be as easy as the simulation, but she hadn’t expected it to be this difficult. Of the three star systems that were more or less in the center of the Tyrell empire, the first two were clearly not their home system. Both were completely devoid of any signs of inhabitation, infrastructure or ships. No transmissions of any kind were picked up either, including FTL. The third system, designated Zulu3, clearly was inhabited and did have EM transmissions that suggested orbiting infrastructure, but the level of transmissions from the one planet that could be considered habitable was only a fraction of what she would have expected from a home world. That implied that this was not their home system. On the other hand, her carriers were picking up lots of incoming FTL transmissions from a lot of other systems, including some from previously unknown systems. And that implied this was the home system. But if it was, why weren’t her people detecting more sources of normal EM transmissions from stations orbiting other planets here? Was it possible that the Tyrell hadn’t bothered to exploit the resources of their own star system before expanding outward? The answer could be as simple as they were using narrow beam communications technology, such as lasers, that would be impossible to detect unless the detecting ship was directly in the beam’s path. The lack of an asteroid belt also begged the question of where the Tyrell were getting the resources to build their super-ships. She turned away from the tactical display to look at Eagleton who was standing beside her. Someone would have to sneak up on each planet and take a careful look as to what, if anything, of an artificial nature was on or orbiting that planet. It was a sensitive job, and she knew Gort would make sure it was done carefully and properly.
“What do you think, Commander?” she asked him.
He took his time answering because he knew Cate would wait patiently. “The probable home world, Zulu3-C, doesn’t have a moon, so it’s unlikely that they have extensive shipbuilding assets there due to lack of easy to get raw materials. It IS likely that completed super-ships would be in orbit around the home world both for logistical support and for planetary defense. As much as I’d like to rip up a dozen super-ships, we would also run the risk of being detected and fired upon. Since HQ has decided that shipbuilding assets are a higher priority than completed ships, that leaves these three gas giants and their moons. We’re lucky that Zulu3-E and F are in the same quadrant. That means we can check them out relatively quickly. D, on the other hand, is almost on the other side of the system.” He paused and then looked over to Harrow. “Are you in a hurry, TFL?”
“No. I’d like to execute this attack carefully, but having said that, we don’t have unlimited time. What have you got in mind?”
“I’d like to take the whole squadron and check out E and F, and depending on what we do or don’t find, then take all 12 over to D. If we find something interesting at either E or F, I can then deploy the squadron as needed. What I’m thinking is that one of these gas giants may have multiple moons that are being exploited at the same time. If so, then I’ll be able to attack up to 12 targets immediately. By initiating the strike as soon as we figure out where their assets are, we can minimize the risk of their detecting us and taking counter-measures. Total mission time will be longer if E and F don’t pan out and we need to look at D, but I’d estimate 48 hours max.”
Harrow’s first impulse was to say no. Forty-eight hours was about twice as long as she was hoping they’d be in this star system. Right now, both carriers were farther away from this system’s sun than Pluto was from Sol, but even at that distance, there was still the chance of reflected sunlight being picked up by a Tyrell ship that happened to be looking in the right direction or by an incoming ship emerging from hyper-space close enough to pick them up via mass detection. To avoid the corvettes micro-jumping into detection range of a Tyrell ship, it had already been decided that all corvettes moving in-system would do so using inertia drives, but even at 0.65 of light, it would still take hours to move around the system. Keeping the squadron together instead of scattered all over the system would give Gort more flexibility, and initiating a strike as soon as they found something worth attacking would actually save time versus recalling dispersed corvettes and only then conducting the attack. She also reminded herself that Gort had proven his skill at combat tactics. Having asked for his recommendation, saying no without a damn good reason would make him think that she didn’t have faith in his tactical judgement.
“Okay, 48 hours max. Not an hour more, got it?”
His sudden grin had a mischievous feral quality to it that made her suspect he was actually looking forward to this little excursion. “Thank you, TFL. I better get moving.”
Half an hour
later, all 24 corvettes were in motion and were being tracked on the main display by the mass detection system. Harrow nodded with satisfaction. VC001, call sign Ghost Riders, under Gort’s command, was moving in formation at 0.65 of light. VC002 launched from the Bismark Sea, call sign Grim Reapers, was moving out to its picket stations to stand watch over the carriers and the space around them. She checked the time. It was only a few minutes later than the last time she checked. Sitting here and waiting for something to happen was the hardest part about commanding a task force. It would be hours before Gort’s squadron got within detection range of Zulu3-F and she couldn’t stay on the Flag Bridge constantly for the next 48 hours. She decided to head to her quarters, have something to eat and maybe a short nap. She left the Flag Bridge without saying a word. Unlike ship command, a task force leader did not delegate command of a task force to a junior officer. She would be in command 24 hours a day, even when asleep in her quarters. The prospect of being woken up in an emergency situation had generated more than enough nightmares. Maybe she would skip the nap.
Ghost Rider One:
Eagleton watched the squadron formation decelerate in perfect unison with satisfaction. They were approaching Zulu3-F at a range of just over two light-seconds, and he wanted to be certain of not getting too close and thereby being detected. His corvettes, on the other hand, were already detecting orbiting structures of various sizes with half a dozen really large objects that could be super-ships under construction. He decided that he had enough data to allocate targets to the rest of the squadron. It took a few minutes to assign them to each corvette. When he was done and satisfied that every target detected so far would be hit, he opened the lasercom channel to the entire squadron.
