Still wrapped in his thoughts, he boarded Honor and strode to the bridge. A tense crew awaited him. They knew that the brunt of the battle would fall upon them from the beginning. Honor was the only ship capable of standing up to a Tlartox cruiser or frigate with a good chance of surviving. The Tlartox would target them first.
“Emergence signal coming through,” his Comm Lieutenant reported. “Signal identifies as Searcher.”
“That’ll be young Britlot. Signal him as soon as he drops. We need to know everything he knows.”
It did not take long. Sixty-plus ships were half an hour behind him. No beacons.
“Send a signal to Fleet Headquarters,” Cenet ordered.
Moments later the Comm-Op reported back. “They’ve jammed all channels to Krevost, sir.”
* * *
“Good to see you, Captain Tetwucan,” Commander Meehknet of Prime Station Alpha greeted him.
“Thought perhaps you could use another hand,” the Captain offered. Foremost remained docked, under repair. Another day and she would have joined the fight. However, attached to the station, with her guns manned, she represented a welcome adjunct to station defenses.
“We’re just about to call Action Stations, sir.”
“This is your station, Commander. You know it best. Just tell me what to do.”
Commander Meehknet relaxed. The last thing he needed was a ranking officer trying to take control. “If you would report to the auxiliary command center, we’ll divide the defense of the station between us. I’ll take port; you take starboard. If either of us goes down the other’ll take over.”
“Fair enough. Thank you, Commander, I appreciate it.”
“Be ready for evacuation to the surface. We just fight until we empty the station. Warn those aboard Foremost.”
“Aye, I’ll do that.”
Captain Tetwucan walked quickly to the auxiliary command post and took over from a grateful Lieutenant. He looked around. None appeared in the mood to even consider making the usual pre-battle jokes. Everyone knew what awaited them. Tetwucan made up his mind. He would not evacuate. At the end he would head for Foremost, kick her free from the station and man a battery until destroyed.
“Well, Gentlemen, Ladies, let me introduce myself. I am Captain Tetwucan of Foremost. I suppose you are wondering why I called this meeting.” It was an old joke, a lame joke, the only one he could think of. A few smiles cracked.
* * *
“Reports from the Capital City Space Port suggest that shuttles are bringing down the crews from the Prime Stations.” The reporter looked lost. “We can only surmise that the Tlartox are about to arrive. The mayor has declared martial law and all citizens are ordered to remain in their domiciles. If not already there, they are ordered to return to them. More information as we receive it.” Tears began streaming down the reporter’s face before the camera shifted to another shuttle lifting off.
* * *
Inside Ydralin’s Bar, a hoot rose at the report of martial law. If the Tlartox were coming, they’d watch it on the vid while enjoying wine and beer. Rensol joined the laugh and held tightly to the woman he would spend the night with. She was a busty one and he cupped a breast. She snugged into him and raised a glass of beer in a toast.
“To martial law!” They laughed together.
He should be working his overtime shift, but not today. Having finished the torpedo guidance heads, a harried Fleet officer had picked them up with thanks. Then, Trel had declared that the factory closed until things sorted themselves out. That meant after the Tlartox decided what they wanted to do with the planet, Rensol thought. Ah, well, it had been a good life.
* * *
Desk Sergeant Welt Clornol hit the alarm once again. He was weary of it all. “A mob in defiance of the martial law decree has begun forming near the Lormar Bank Building. All available officers report in riot gear.”
“Again?” Constable Broolner groaned as he looked at the vid. The mob looked like it wouldn’t settle for shouting. Already, he saw glass breaking. Broolner and his comrades jumped into their cruisers and headed for the scene.
The situation looked bad when they arrived. The mob had armed itself with sticks and rods. Broolner looked at the thin line of officers. They’d be lucky to be able to handle this. Trouble was, he felt for the people. Fleet had a lot to answer for.
Sergeant Paxon pulled out his loudhailer and told the crowd to disperse. That only seemed to enrage them.
SEARCHER
Lieutenant-Commander Britlot ordered Action Stations. The crew didn’t move. They were already there.
“All weapons powered up, Captain.”
“Shields up, Captain.”
“Engineering, Captain, we are ready for full power manoeuvring. Just give us the word.”
Britlot smiled at Weytok, his eyes closing briefly. “Well, Feneya, here we go.”
Lieutenant Weytok smiled at Britlot’s breach of etiquette. “Aye, Mart, here we go,” she responded. They looked into each other’s eyes. Too late, she thought. But at least now I know. With death riding the beam into Lormar past differences seemed petty.
“We’ll kick Tlartox ass, Captain,” Gunnery Spacer Dorvon declared. “Four 60s up a cruiser’s tail pipe,” he predicted.
“Aye, Spacer, that we’ll do.”
A heavy silence fell. Britlot suspected it would be the same all over the fleet. Final prayers offered to whatever gods might be listening.
“Emergence signal,” called out Dhine.
“Emergence signal?” In the vicinity, Britlot moved Searcher to join Commodore Prusnol’s squadron. A face came on the vid.
“Glad to see you, Britlot. Looking for a little fun?”
“It has been a dull day, sir,” Britlot replied.
* * *
“Emergence signal?” Commander Meehknet queried. “Is it from Telprist or Renvolt?”
“No, sir. No identity. Could be a Tlartox trick, sir.”
“If it is, Prusnol’ll take care of it. Get me vids on the zone. All weapons prepare for free-fire.”
“Weapons ready, aye.” The gunnery officer looked as if he’d already made his peace with whatever gods he had. Meehknet glanced around the command room. Everyone waited with dread. They all knew what was coming, what it meant.
The emergence beacon, half in hyperspace half in normal space sounded an emergence warning. Something was coming through.
It appeared as if an opaque window opened and the blunt hammerhead bows of a huge warship began sliding into normal space. Small turrets on the hammerhead pointed directly ahead.
More of the vessel emerged, gliding slowly through the portal. Huge turrets on her dorsal and anterior surfaces appeared, superimposed so that massive fire could be directed forwards.
“What the hell is that?” asked Meehknet.
“Priority message incoming.”
CHAPTER 22
LORMAR SPACE
“What in the realm of Chaos is that?” Captain Brinlerd of Honor asked as the end of the warship emerged from hyperspace. A tall spar rose from its dorsal surface and, as it passed the emergence beacon’s camera, the image of a large flag scrolled out along its hull.
“My god,” Rear Admiral Cenet gasped. “It’s a battleship. Restigouche class if memory serves. Look at that flag. It’s the 22nd!”
“Priority message from Searcher, sir. Message reads: Hold fire. These are friendlies.”
Muted gasps sounded around the bridge of Honor as lights suddenly lit the huge ship. The camera focused on the side of the ship where lights outlined the ship’s name.
“My god,” Cenet repeated, awed. “It is Restigouche, herself.”
“There’s another!”
A second hammerhead bow appeared from the precise spot where Restigouche had appeared. Ships did not drop from hyperspace thus, yet thus they dropped. No ghost-echoes here.
From Restigouche’s mast, a large sail appeared.
“Rear Admiral?” Brinlerd questioned.
“Solar collectors. I recall that ships of that era had problems running their equipment if all engines weren’t on-line. They must be powering down.”
“Relax from Action Stations, sir?”
Cenet started visibly. He shook his head in disbelief, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen. “Aye. Relax from Action Stations.” He paused. “Put this on every screen throughout the ship, Captain.”
A succession of three heavy cruisers appeared one by one, the historians and enthusiasts in the ship excitedly naming classes.
* * *
Rensol had his fourth beer in hand when the vid-screen went blank, only to be replaced by the Fleet insignia. A chorus of jeers filled the tavern.
“First man to throw anything at my vid-screen gets this!” the proprietor roared, standing upon the bar smacking a heavy iron bar into his hand. The crowd silenced for a moment, acknowledging his right.
“Another beer over here,” came a call and then it was back to the discussions.
“What’s your name, dear,” Rensol decided to ask.
“Plennie,” the buxom woman answered. Her face was drawn. She indicated the screen. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry, love, you’re with me.” They both laughed.
* * *
Broolner knew the mob was about to attack. He braced himself for the shock to come. What a futile way to go out, protecting a bank.
“Ready, men, ready,” called the sergeant. Broolner wished they were allowed to use deadly force; for, sure enough, there would be dead officers here in less than a minute.
The crowd had paused, readying for the rush. Then people began pointing behind him. He took a quick glance over his shoulder. The Bank Building vid-screen displayed the Fleet Logo. Then the picture came on, showing a massive vessel appearing in space. The speakers came to life. Broolner had never heard them active before. Usually only captions appeared.
“What you see...”
* * *
As destroyer after destroyer filed past in review, Commander Meehknet stood down his station. His hands, he noted in passing, trembled. He would not, it appeared, die this day. Cenet canceled evacuation to the surface and recalled the two shuttles, just released and on their way down.
“Lieutenant Rensler, emergency satellite control of vid, if you please.”
Rensler looked up. Fleet had never before taken control of all the satellites’ vid channels, though they possessed that capability. They would effectively control every vid screen on the planet.”
“Control taken, sir. Standard Fleet insignia playing on all channels.” He hoped the Commander knew what he did. There would be hell to pay, whatever.
“Very good, Lieutenant. Now play the data record from the emergence cam. Start it from just before that battleship came through. Do a commentary yourself.”
“Me, sir?”
“You’re the Comm expert. Communicate with our people. Let them know that reinforcements have arrived. We are no longer alone.”
“Aye, sir.”
* * *
“Mom!”
“What is it, Colli?”
“Come see this. Fleet has requisitioned the vid. Every channel.”
Relnie didn’t want to go back in. It could only mean more bad news. “Okay, I’m coming.”
The whole family sat before the screen, with the exception of Melsie who slept. For three minutes they saw only the Fleet symbol and heard only the Fleet intro music. Then a voice began.
“Gentlemen, Ladies, uh, fellow citizens. This is Lieutenant Rensler of Fleet Communications. We are about to show you a vid we began recording only minutes ago. We are still recording. This vid comes from the emergence camera.”
The screen showed a starfield. Then, suddenly, a blunt hammerhead shape came into the picture.
“What you see is the emergence of a battleship. The Battleship Restigouche of the Adian Navy.” The massive warship filled the screen. The camera zoomed in on the stylized unfurling flag. “That flag is the flag of the old 22nd Fleet—the Vandoo. For those of you who are not up on your history, the Vandoo left the Confederation with the Adian nation nearly 300 years ago. We believed that all had been destroyed. As you can see, we erred.
“The Adians, or at least their fleet, have returned.” Rensler’s voice stopped and a second battleship came through, followed by what the announcer called a heavy cruiser, then a second, then a third. Then destroyer after destroyer filed past.
Relnie counted twelve destroyers before the screen remained blank. Seventeen ships. No, another huge hammerhead appeared.
“The Battleship Vindicateur,” Lieutenant Rensler continued calling out names. “The Heavy Cruiser Valeur, the light cruiser Meratie, the Destroyer...”
* * *
A large crowd now gathered in front of the Lormar Bank Building. Police with batons, who just moments before had faced them down as a mob, now joined them, looking up at the giant vid-screen.
The expected appearance of the Tlartox had shocked everyone to stillness. The unexpected held the crowd motionless. Broolner glanced over at Sergeant Paxon, unsurprised to see tears rolling down his face, for his own cheeks were wet.
* * *
Relnie looked at her son, daughter, son-in-law, and daughter-in-law. Tears filled their eyes. Maybe hope existed yet. But it was too late and she couldn’t find any tears or joy.
Rensler ceased looking at the real-time record. He concentrated on the vid he was commenting on. “Now, this looks like a troop ship. And another.” A strange looking ship appeared. “My identification disc tells me that is a towing vessel. My god!”
Relnie looked back to the screen. Following what Rensler called the towing vessel came the unmistakable shape of a Confederation frigate. Clearly written on its side they saw the name, “Tempest”. Relnie’s eyes clouded over and she didn’t see Hurricane and Cyclone towed past the camera.
“The Confederation vessels you just saw were in the battle for Tridex Asteroids. We believed them lost in the battle. Again, we appear to have erred. Badly damaged, yes, destroyed, no.”
Yet another battleship came through and another. More cruisers and destroyers followed, along with supply ships and scouts.
“Fellow citizens of the Confederation. We have just received a message from Restigouche. Here it is.”
A slight woman wearing a high-collared, dark blue, double-breasted uniform jacket appeared. Grey streaked her black hair.
“My name is Fleet Admiral Fenton of the Adian Navy. For too long we have been away from our home world, Lormar. We have returned. We look forward to visiting places which figure large in our history. We are not going anywhere, soon.”
* * *
The stunned silence in the bar broke with a roar. Rensol pulled Plennie’s face close to his own. “Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested.
Plennie looked at him blankly for a moment, then a soft smile came to her. “We are alive, aren’t we?”
“Very,” he smiled back. Her eyes brightened. “Let’s go.” Together they rose and slipped up the stairs to the room he’d rented.
* * *
“She came.” Lieutenant-Commander Britlot watched the screen as intently as did all the others. Weytok smiled and nodded.
“You know her?” Sub-Lieutenant Parenner asked, incredulously.
“Aye, Sub, we met her.” Britlot smiled widely. They had come! The Adians had come.
“Look! Another battleship!”
The officers returned their attention to the screen. Following the battleship came another heavy cruiser and four destroyers.
“Look, Captain.” Weytok pointed at the second destroyer.
The vid-cam’s close-up showed her name. Winter Sky.
“Captain, we have a message coming in from Winter Sky, sir.”
“Put it on screen.”
“Lieutenant Weytok, good to see you again. We decided to see how the Confederation Navy plays host.” Captain Rellos grinned at her.
Wey
tok blushed. “You will never let me forget that remark, will you, sir?”
The Captain laughed. “Of course not, Lieutenant. Captain Britlot, you have an able first officer.”
“Aye, Captain, I do. Welcome to Lormar. Perhaps, if you have the time, you could come and dine with us.”
“I suspect you will be rather busy, Captain. However, I’d be more than pleased to dine with Lieutenant Weytok.” He turned to the side and listened to something for a moment before turning back. “One of my officers would enjoy accompanying me. Would that cause any difficulties?”
“None at all, sir,” Lieutenant Weytok replied, hoping that his companion would be whom she suspected it would be. That was secondary, however, to what she had just seen. The arrival of the Adians had changed Britlot. He no longer seemed to carry the weight of the Confederation on his back.
* * *
“Ah, Britlot. Good of you to join us.” Rear Admiral Cenet greeted him as he entered the large conference room. Within, stood Commodores Taglini and Prusnol, several other officers whose names he did not know and Fleet Admiral Fenton and her staff. He recognized Commodore Cetph and Captain Kaldon from their short meeting on Adia.
The Fleet Admiral came to greet him. “Commander. Good of you to invite us to this party. From what the Rear Admiral tells me, it will be a lively one.”
Lieutenant-Commander Britlot smiled back, wondering why she had elevated his rank. “Fleet Admiral Fenton, we are very glad you could make it.” He glanced at Taglini, deep in conversation with Commodore Cetph. “And my personal thanks for bringing my Commodore back with you.”
The Fleet Admiral waved off his thanks. “Our pleasure. And congratulations on your promotion.”
Ghost Fleet Page 23
