Ghost Fleet

by D. A. Boulter

  Britlot looked to the Rear Admiral who nodded. “Thank you, Fleet Admiral, I’ll do my best to do it justice.” Commander or not, he still felt very tense around Admirals and was relieved as the Rear Admiral escorted the Fleet Admiral to meet a new arrival.

  A hand clapped down upon his shoulder. He turned to see a full captain with a heavy black beard and bushy brows staring hard at him.

  “Sir?”

  “So, Commander Britlot, I hear you are responsible for our visitors.”

  “Yes and no, Captain...”

  “Voerneus of the Frigate Ronis. Yes and no?”

  “My ship discovered their existence. Their appearance here is their own decision. It surprised me as much as any other here—perhaps more.”

  Captain Voerneus raised one of his bushy brows. He drifted over to a corner where they wouldn’t be overheard. “As much a boost for morale as this is, you know those old ships won’t stand a chance in a modern battle, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. I explained that to the Adians and I believed they understood. Hell, I stated it outright.”

  Voerneus relaxed. “Ah. Then it is upon them. Good. Hoped you hadn’t tricked them. Still, if they want to commit suicide along with us in our Bs and Cs, well, the more the merrier. Come, let’s get some good seats.”

  * * *

  The Fleet Admiral appeared angry. “You would give up Lormar without a fight?” she demanded.

  “Orders from Fleet HQ,” Rear Admiral Cenet confirmed. “We are to stand by until the four Primes are evacuated, sabotage them and leave.”

  “I see.” Fenton looked thoughtful. “I have ten thousand Adian Marines with me who are doubtless tired of their quarters aboard the troopships. They desire rest and relaxation ashore. Will that cause a problem?”

  Cenet appeared lost. What had this to do with the other? “Those in uniform are not entirely welcome planetside at the moment, sir,” he told her diplomatically.

  “I suppose not, with Fleet preparing to abandon them to Tlartox mercies.” Cenet flushed. “However, as we intend to remain here, I don’t think that will be a difficulty. The troops will need bases of operation. The four Primes will do nicely. There appears to be a good deal of empty space at the moment. As you are giving up the Primes, we will claim them as salvage.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Fleet Admiral,” Cenet began carefully. “The full weight of perhaps seven fleets will be brought to bear on Lormar—”

  “Good. Then we shall have no lack of targets for my ships.”

  A general laugh went up. Rear Admiral Cenet was torn. All in the conference room could see it. He, however, had his orders. A thought came to him.

  “You understand, Fleet Admiral, that I am here to see to the evacuation of the Primes?”

  “Do you understand that you may evacuate your people, but mine will stay,” Fleet Admiral Fenton felt her frustration rising with this Confederation puppet.

  “My orders,” Cenet said slowly and distinctly for all to hear, “say that I am to remain here until the four Primes have been evacuated.”

  Enough was enough. Glaring at him, Fenton ground out, “And I tell you that...” The words drifted away and she smiled for the first time. “Ah, I understand.” She decided she could get to like this man. “Captain Kaldon, if you would see to the debarkation of the Marines and tell the captains of the fleet to arrange shuttles for shore leave.”

  Rear Admiral Cenet smiled genuinely for the first time in days. “Commander Meehknet, if you would liaise with Captain Kaldon on behalf of the Primes.” Suddenly he felt much younger than he had in years. “And have the able Lieutenant Rensler arrange a press conference.”

  * * *

  “Following the decision of the Adian Fleet to remain and guard Lormar, the Adian Admiral, Fenton, has made known the wishes of the troops and spacers of her fleet to come down and visit Lormar. At the news conference, Admiral Fenton handed out a list of the places which her people wished to see.” The reporter showed a sheaf of paper to the camera. “As you can see, the list is extensive—from the Capital City to some very small villages. I think I can speak for all of Lormar in saying that the men and women of the 22nd Fleet are welcome here.” She smiled at the camera for a moment, then her expression turned serious once more.

  “We did some digging and found that the 22nd Fleet, the so-called Vandoo, had a reputation. It never, and I repeat never, lost a battle. The 22nd never retreated.” She stared into the camera for several long seconds. “I think that is all that needs be said.

  “Meanwhile, Rear Admiral Cenet of the Confederation Navy has told us of his determination to follow his orders to the letter. His orders state he is to remain here until the four prime stations of Lormar are evacuated. As the Adians will occupy those four stations, he—and Tenth Fleet—will remain.

  “In further news, Martial Law and the curfews have been lifted.”

  * * *

  Within an hour of the end of the news conference a new optimism spread over Lormar. Incidents of violence and vandalism diminished, and people returned to their work sites.

  Within two hours, the first of the Adian Marines and Spacers had landed on Lormar to a hero’s welcome. The mayor of Brevniz, a small town of some 438 people, was surprised and gratified to find that eight marines had picked his town for their shore leave. The entire town came out to meet them and the marines lacked for nothing. Council set up tours to neighboring farms and arranged a town picnic.

  * * *

  Commander Meehknet no longer started at the sight of the dark blue uniforms nor the sound of the archaic accents. Everywhere, it seemed, Adian Marines and spacers worked, wiring up Prime Alpha. In several compartments in which they’d been working, Meehknet had been unable to discover differences, though he knew they’d carried full boxes of components in and empty ones out.

  When asked what they were doing, a Marine captain told him, “We’re preparing for the defense of Prime Alpha, sir.” At his puzzled look, the man elaborated. “In case the Tlartox decide to board her, sir. We want to be ready to give them the greeting they deserve.” It explained nothing. Meehknet just shook his head and went about his own duties.

  The Adians occupied the main Comm room and sent a steady signal to the satellites for downbeam to the planet. They had returned most of the vid channels to their owners, but one channel on each satellite remained requisitioned for the Adians.

  Nothing in Meehknet’s experience prepared him for the idea of military planning taking place before the cameras. The Adians appeared to have no feeling for security at all. Anyone on planet could tune in to the discussions and deliberations of the Adian staff, up to and including high-level meetings held by their Fleet Admiral.

  Capitalizing on the arrival of the Adians, the vid companies disrupted their regular programming with interviews with Adian Marines and Spacers on leave in various locales.

  Everyone wanted to see more.

  CHAPTER 23

  LORM, LORMAR

  “Marine Major Coll Britlot, we understand that Confederation Commander Mart Britlot of Searcher is a distant relative of yours.”

  Major Britlot gave the Britlot smile for the camera. “Correct. None were more surprised than I when the Commander appeared in Adian space. We’d thought no Britlots remained in the Confederation. Pleased to see him, though.”

  “So this Adian connection was important in Adia coming back to Lormar to help us against the Tlartox?”

  “Not at all, Poli—may I call you Poli? No, the Commander presented very persuasive arguments and we would have come no matter what his lineage.” Major Britlot glanced about, apprehensive at the number of cameras facing him.

  “Tell us, Major, how did you feel when your troops received the order to embark for Lormar?”

  “That is difficult to answer, since we received no such order. You see,” he explained to the blank faces, “every single man and woman here, whether Marine or Spacer, from lowest rank up to Fleet Admiral Fenton,
volunteered. We came here because we want to be here.” He smiled again. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to see the Museum of Natural History. I’ve read about it and always wanted to visit.”

  For once Poli Jemrey, ace reporter, could find no words. “Thank you, Major Britlot,” she finally managed.

  * * *

  Relnie Fronel ran to meet her husband as he stepped down from the shuttlebus. “Oh, Lemm, thank the stars you’re back.”

  After a long hug, Lemm Fronel introduced his traveling companion. “Relnie, I’d like you to meet Navy Captain Gren Tirog of the Adian light cruiser Meratie. The Captain and a few of his compatriots are the reason I’m back in one piece.”

  Much to his embarrassment, Captain Tirog spent the next full minute in the tight embrace of Relnie Fronel, who kept whispering, “Thank you, thank you,” in his ear. Finally she relented.

  “Yes, well, you are welcome, I’m sure. Not much difficulty when we outnumbered them ten to one. Fair surprised them, we did,” the Captain explained. “Lemm, you said you knew of a very nice tavern in the neighborhood?”

  “Oh no you don’t either,” Relnie interrupted, not noticing the wink from Lemm to the Adian. “Lemm has a more than adequate wine cellar. You, Captain Tirog, will join us for a good home-cooked meal.”

  “Might as well give it up, Captain. You’ve been captured.”

  “Hmmm. Perhaps our policy of never surrendering needs rethinking,” the Adian replied, as Relnie took an arm of each man and led them to the waiting landcruiser.

  STARBURST IN HYPERSPACE

  Vice Admiral Knerden hated running. Yet he couldn’t shake the Tlartox vessels which hounded him through hyperspace, and until he did he could not stop. The eight ships of his squadron were but a fraction of what he’d started with, and that, too, hurt. It was he who had put the run on the Combine fleet at Plillinth. It was he who was touted as a master strategist. It was he, he remembered all too well, who had convinced the Admiral to attack the isolated Tlartox vessels at Cabrintoso.

  A perfect opportunity, he’d convinced the now dead officer. What had turned out so disastrously should have gone so well—and perhaps it would have, had they attacked when he, Knerden, had wanted to. But no, the Admiral had wasted an entire day studying the situation, allowing the Tlartox time to bring reinforcements. If only they’d listened to him.

  First Fleet had to regroup, and it could not regroup with the Tlartox in close company. At least, the detectors showed that the enemy had lost strength. Much of the group shadowing him had disappeared. Recalled? Lost? It mattered not; an opportunity presented itself.

  “Comm, get me Captain Vicnor on the frigate Venture.” He waited for the signal to go through. Vicnor was a man young for his captaincy, a real go-getter. Just the man for the job. “Ah, Captain Vicnor. I have an assignment for you. How would you like to engage the Tlartox?”

  Vicnor smiled. “When do we drop, sir?” He sounded eager.

  “We don’t.”

  The smile faded. “In hyperspace, sir?” A lot of the eagerness had left.

  “Yes, Captain, in hyperspace. They shadow us too closely. We need room to breathe, to give them the slip. Slowly edge closer to them, then loose off a salvo of torpedoes. That’s when we’ll make our break. If we are separated for any reason, we’ll meet at Lormar.” Knerden no longer even looked at his Captain. “Yes, a salvo of torpedoes should do it.” He returned his gaze to the screen. “You can use your main weapons as well, if you like. Carry on.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Vicnor would do it. Then they could regroup and strike back at the Tlartox. With Admiral Gidfren dead, command of First Fleet devolved to him. Without Gidfren holding them back, First Fleet would show its stuff—finally. It only helped they had lost comm with headquarters, due to the jamming. That blow from the Tlartox freed him from oversight, and the Tlartox would pay for it. He grinned at the irony.

  Knerden kept a close eye on his screen watching the data relay from the detectors. Venture slipped ever closer to the enemy and further from the rest of his squadron. He opened a comm line to the other six ships and explained the situation.

  When Venture let loose with its torpedoes, the enemy would turn away and at that same moment his force would make a sudden turn in the opposite direction, coming up to full speed. As soon as they escaped detector range, they would drop to normal space, wait for the Tlartox to pass them by, then return to hyperspace and head for Lormar.

  “Sir,” Starburst’s Captain turned to him, “you didn’t tell Vicnor about dropping.”

  Knerden smiled. “No, Yrgran, I didn’t. The boy may lose his nerve. If he drops within Tlartox detector range, the whole exercise will have been for nothing. He knows our destination. We’ll meet him there.”

  Yrgran turned away and walked to the detector station.

  “Venture firing torpedoes and all weapons, sir. Enemy returning fire and turning away.”

  “Full speed, new course,” ordered Yrgran.

  Starburst slewed about and the compensators fought with inertia to keep the crew balanced. Some were, nonetheless, thrown from their feet.

  “Losing the furthest Tlartox from the detectors. Four left, three, two, one; enemy gone from detectors.”

  “Venture?”

  “Reads unstable, sir. Winking out.”

  “Drop!” Vice Admiral Knerden waited no longer. The screens showed a regular starfield.

  Long-range detectors located all six of the other ships, scattered widely as expected when dropping while at full speed, yet not so far to cause real problems—as long as the Tlartox didn’t drop on top of them.

  An hour later Knerden felt positive. They had lost the damn Tlartox. Now he could get back to Lormar, regroup First Fleet—perhaps he could use Tenth Fleet as a diversion to get the Tlartox to pull more of their ships off of the chase—and start fighting the war as it should be fought.

  PRIME STATION ALPHA

  “Well, Commander, back to your ship already?”

  “Yes, Fleet Admiral,” Commander Britlot replied. “We need Searcher’s detectors in hyperspace, sir.”

  Fenton looked amused. “I suppose so, Commander, but the Tlartox will need more time to regroup, I think. I’m interested, though, in what you think of our chances. The others are being very polite, grateful for our presence. I believe I can count on you to be more forthright.” She stopped with him and looked up to his grim face.

  “You know what I think, Fleet Admiral. I’m sure you were there in the Council Chamber with ... the others. Behind the glass.”

  The Fleet Admiral looked studiously blank. Commander Britlot showed his teeth in a half-hearted smile. “Forthright, you said. Very well, your ships are little more than coffins. Your spacers and marines are dead men and women. They only think they are alive. Your ships can’t maneuver with modern vessels, your shields can’t stop their weapons and your weapons will have difficulty tracking their ships. You’ll be cut to pieces.” Already he regretted opening his mouth.

  “Don’t step lightly,” Fenton told him, “tell me what you really think.”

  Britlot had to laugh and the Fleet Admiral joined him. He shook his head. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m glad you are here—for our sake, not for yours. You just might make the difference. If we can stop the Tlartox, even at great cost to ourselves, we may buy time enough for the other fleets to arrive. If we don’t stop them here, the Confederation itself may be doomed. Your arrival forced Rear Admiral Cenet to stay as well—okay, he wanted to, but you’ve given him an excuse he could use. So I’m happy to have you with us.”

  “Thank you, Commander. It is good to be appreciated.”

  SEARCHER

  “Wonderful dinner, Lieutenant, just wonderful. I’d heard about these dishes, of course, but only from the old vids and records.” Captain Rellos held out his glass to the proffered bottle of wine and accepted a refill. “Many of the seeds our ancestors took along fared less than well on Adia. We lost many species,”
he explained. “Of course, Adia has many native plants which please the palate, yet I’ve always wondered what it had been like.”

  “We’re happy to accommodate you, sir,” Weytok replied. She offered Lieutenant Sharden more wine; Sharden declined.

  “I’m interested, Captain, in the reason you came,” Lieutenant Krirtol put into words what the others had only thought.

  “Commander Britlot gave very convincing arguments,” Captain Rellos replied.

  “Perhaps,” Weytok admitted, “but then why try to convince us to remain on Adia?” She looked directly at Sharden when she said this, but no rancor came through in either voice or expression—merely curiosity.

  “If you look at it from our side I’m sure you’ll understand. It was a question of trust.” Sharden took a moment to compose her thoughts. “You came to ask us to fight for the Confederation, no matter what our own motives for joining such a fight might be. But was the Confederation worth fighting for?”

  Weytok’s eyes widened. “A test? Were we willing to return to die for what we asked you to die for?”

  “Essentially correct. I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”

  Weytok nodded slowly. “I see.” She still hadn’t finished processing the implications of the previous statements. She looked up. “We’ll not discuss it again. It is forgotten.” She forgave the Adians. “I never thanked you for the schematics,” Weytok smiled in fond memory of their times in the hot-box. “I’m going to have one built ... if we survive, that is.”

  “Why not come over and join me. I’m sure I have some time coming?” Sharden looked over to her captain, who nodded.

  “A deal!”

  “Bring Mart. I’d like to see him again, also.”

  “If I can pull him away from the joys of officers’ conferences.”