“Dessert, Gentlemen, Ladies,” Rawl Tetjuin entered the wardroom with a tray of special pastries. The officers leaned forward in anticipation.
“And the crew?” Lieutenant Weytok asked.
“They get what you had,” Tetjuin replied.
“Very good.”
PREDATOR
Star Admiral Sab Tlorth enjoyed the odors wafting about the ship as she made her rounds. She didn’t often subject the crew to an Admiral’s inspection, yet she felt it appropriate now. It underlined the importance of the upcoming battle.
Sab made her inspection of the Engine Room crew and equipment, nodding over this and allowing her ears a slight twitch over that. She could feel the cringes of those on parade behind her when she allowed the twitch and laughed to herself. All show. She merely provided the Engineering Officer an excuse to either praise or chastise the crew after she left.
If they’d been doing a good job the Officer would let them know of the Admiral’s satisfaction. If the Officer needed better results from her crew she would berate them, drawing attention to the ear twitches and tell them that the Admiral was dissatisfied, so they’d better straighten their tails and do a proper job ... or else.
Having completed her inspection, she returned the salute of the Engineering Officer, made a few remarks about the upcoming battle and departed. On her way out she stopped at the air-tight and looked at the meal on the small table. The traditional cut of meat lay waiting for the inspecting officer. If satisfied, that one would partake. If not, she’d leave the meat behind, signifying she didn’t trust the preparation of the food by the slovenly crew she’d just inspected.
Sab’s mouth watered. It was an especially fine cut. Unfortunately, on an inspection tour like this, too many sat ready for her to partake from. Already she felt well sated. But it was a fine cut. She glanced down at her stomach, already bulging. Oh, to Tlash with it. She tore at the meat and stuffed a large piece in her mouth. It tasted as good as it smelled. Carrying the rest of the cut, she returned to her quarters where she placed the remainder in her small cooler, then lay down on her cot to digest. She’d finish it off when she arose.
As Sab groaned and tried to find the most comfortable position to curl up in, she reviewed the situation. The fleet assembly went well. The enemy’s First Fleet remained scattered, though they’d lost track of several of its constituent parts. She did not worry over that. Kethren’s raid had been successful, cutting off the enemy’s HQ. She doubted the Confederation would offer any organized resistance to their campaign before it was too late.
She did, however, worry about the word from the mining asteroids. A scout reported the entire squadron they’d sent had been destroyed—and rumors abounded that the humans hadn’t honored the Veryt Convention; that they had destroyed Tlartox ships after they had declared themselves out of action. Another worry came from word that a Confederation frigate had initiated battle in hyperspace. Both it and its target had destabilized and fallen to normal space. As usual in such cases, no one from either vessel survived.
What would possess the humans to try suicidal tactics? Tood Tlomega had shrugged off both bits of information. She didn’t think either worth worrying about. Sab wondered.
Further information indicated that the Confederation Navy had engaged in successful battles on the Combine front. The extent of that success, Intelligence could not say, nor the price the Confederation had paid. However, prudence required that they allow for at least two fleets returning.
Sab reviewed the attack plans in her mind. If events proceeded apace, she could think of no reason that they shouldn’t be well in control of Lormar and the two other targets before any Confederation ships could make it back.
The rich scent of the grass-patch growing in the dark earth of the corner tray soothed Sab and she fell to an untroubled sleep. Life could be good, was her last waking thought. She licked her chops reflexively.
CHAPTER 24
BREVNIZ, LORMAR
Bel Frincol could not remember a better shore leave. At first, Brevniz sounded less than ideal. Still, she allowed them to talk her into it, although her preference had stated a large city with nightlife and exciting places to visit.
Brevniz surprised her. From the hero’s welcome they received to the open-handed generosity from everyone she met, the village had outdone itself.
Bel gazed up into the deep blue sky. Two lazy white clouds drifted across the expanse, typifying the relaxed aura of the day. The sun shone and the warmth seeped through her as she lay on the grassy meadow. She grinned suddenly. It could have been worse; she could have gone to some outpost on the winter side of the planet.
In the near distance, she heard the bustle of preparations for the picnic subsiding. A village picnic, she thought in wonder. The whole place closing for the day in order to enjoy food and companionship. She would never have found this in a city.
“Bel!” The voice of the good-looking young farmer, Sillan, brought her attention back. He had made it his special duty to look after her. Single, too, she thought with a smile. She raised her arm and waved.
“Bel. Ah, there you are. Almost time to eat. I thought I’d steer you to some of the better dishes. Ferdie Lovren makes a tuber salad that will take your breath away.” He smiled down upon her. Extending his hand, he took hers and pulled her to her feet. “However, you have to get there quick, or it’ll disappear on you.”
He laughed as she brushed stray hairs out of her eyes and blinked in the sunlight. It wouldn’t do to tell Sillan that she enjoyed the solitude and that any dish, later, would suit her just fine.
Sillan led her to the tables where the villagers greeted her with smiles and laughter. A group of children playing tag surged around their legs, then hared off. Bel laughed at their innocent faces.
“Positioning is everything,” Sillan whispered to her as they moved to a spot not far from the main table.
The mayor climbed onto the stage and the villagers began crowding around. Bel started to move closer but Sillan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“We’ll hear just fine from here and, being at the back of the crowd, we’ll be first in line as the rush for the tables starts.”
The mayor’s speech went as did all speeches by elected officials. Well, not entirely the same. His had a familiar humor about it, he knowing all his fellow villagers. Everyone knew everyone else, and that made for fun. “Finally, let us be thankful for the opportunity to get to know these fine young Adian Marines.” Applause rang out and Bel flushed in the attention. “Let us pray that their duty will not be onerous.” Silence greeted the words, and heads bowed. The silence extended as each citizen offered a prayer to whatever deity he or she believed in.
Bel felt a tear come to her eye. These people really cared about her—personally. She took a deep breath, deciding she had made the right decision. The people here were worth fighting for. She had recognized the necessity of stopping this war before it involved Adia and her neighbors directly. Now she recognized the necessity of stopping it, period.
“And you Marines,” the mayor named each of them by first and last name without referring to any list, “you will find yourselves welcome here, always.” The crowd voiced its agreement. “Let’s eat!” A cheer went up.
“That’s our cue,” Sillan nudged her. Together they slipped to the tables where they arrived, though not first, near the start of the lines.
Bel couldn’t remember ever having breathed in such succulent aromas. She remembered her father telling her that the best meals were eaten out-of-doors. Even legumes-in-sauce tasted good there, he had told her. She had always looked at him as if he were a little crazy. Perhaps he had a point. Here and now, even legumes-in-sauce, that horrible delicacy of the outdoorsman, would taste good. Fortunately, the piled foods on the table looked and smelled far better than legumes-in-sauce. She sampled Ferdie’s tuber salad. Sillan had the right of it; it tasted delicious.
She would have to let the old man know he had been r
ight. Too often she had spurned his advice and adages. It would please him. If she lived, she thought, if she lived.
Far too soon, the day ended with the sun sinking below the horizon. The villagers ignited a giant bonfire and the flames leapt high into the air, casting weird shadows. The gaiety of the fire depressed Bel. Her leave neared its end, and others waited anxiously for their own chance to sample the fabled Lormar. Although she couldn’t begrudge them their leave, she didn’t want her own to end. Not just yet.
Held by the fire, Bel didn’t notice the man approach her from behind. The first she knew of his presence, his arm had snaked around her shoulders and pulled her into him gently.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Bel?” Sillan whispered in her ear, hardly heard above the crackling of the wood.
Tears came to her eyes. “Take me home, Sillan.”
“Of course,” he agreed immediately, not giving the slightest hint of disappointment over an early finish to his evening. He led her to his small landcruiser and seated her before entering himself. He signaled to turn onto the road back to Brevniz, but Bel put her hand on top of his.
“Not my home, Sil, yours.”
A slow smile came to Sillan’s face. “Of course,” he replied, his voice suddenly husky. “Of course.”
TLARTOX HOMEWORLD
“Hello Vom.” The low, dusky voice had the Master spinning around in place, arms and legs quickly slipping into the defensive positions he had learned so long ago, claws extended. “Slow, Vom, slow,” came the derisive laugh. “Whatever will we do with you?”
“It has been a long time, Miz,” Vom replied carefully.
“But not long enough, eh?” Miz looked around carefully, not taking her eyes off Vom for more than a moment at a time. “Where’s Shads? Already gone off to play your little game?”
Vom wondered just how much she knew, wondered where his guard was, wondered how long Miz would allow him to live. He had to live. He could not die now—tomorrow, yes, but not today. One more day and nothing could stop them; today, no one could replace him.
He should have prepared someone else. It appeared he still had much to learn about being a subversive—should Miz give him that chance, which he doubted. Miz took another step and Vom moved to counter the danger, his ears flat against his head.
“That’s better, Vom.” Her own claws now extended. “Did you really think you could get away with it without my klatch becoming aware?” The black ears took on a mocking slant. When Vom said nothing the pupils slitted. “We found out. They sent three of us to kill you. Only I remain.” She noticed Vom steal a glance towards the door. “If you wait for a last minute rescue, don’t. I took care of young Tlantho myself, not that she would have helped.”
Vom gave a mental sigh. Tlantho had been an unexpected find. One of the hunters who understood. Miz was something else entirely. A killer.
A killer he had trusted until she’d betrayed him and the organization. Five good Tox had died that night, and the blame rested squarely on Miz—and on him for trusting her. He could allow no repeat. Even if it meant his death, he’d have to take her out. He began to move slowly forward.
Miz sheathed her claws. Suddenly she looked very tired. “Tlantho was your traitor, Vom,” she told him, wearily. “She opened the doors for us. And she was fast, very fast. I almost didn’t get her in time. Only three against one and surprise on my side. I think I should retire, Vom.” She sat suddenly.
Vom approached warily, sheathing his claws as he moved forward. Could he have been mistaken this last year? If true, she had fooled him completely. “What happened that night, Miz?”
She gave a little laugh. “I found out about the raid. I had no time, my friend, no chance to warn you. The only hope any of us had was for me to go to them and tell all I knew. Or so they thought. I was a dupe, I told them, only just then finding out what you planned.” She shivered. “I have to lie down, Vom. Is that all right?”
She didn’t wait for his answer, but lay herself down on the nearby cot. Vom could see blood on her side now. He moved in to open her clothing.
A nasty wound. Whether he believed her or not, Vom couldn’t let her die. He brought out his first aid supplies and began to bandage the wound. She kept talking.
“That’s why they raided before you got there. Best I could do. Five died where ten might have. A good trade.” She released her breath in a long sigh. “The Comm is all set up? Ready for full dissemination?” she asked. If she knew that, she knew everything.
“Yes, Miz, it is.”
“You’ll have to move the receivers. They know about them, though not exactly what you plan. I didn’t tell what I knew.” She paused. “Your people must learn to trust no one. I found out much too much.
“They move on the morrow.” Her thoughts wandered. “Tricked my group into moving tonight. Only way I could warn you. Wanted to see you again, Vom. Wanted to tell you it wasn’t me; you were wrong for once. Wanted to tell you...” She stopped speaking and Vom checked her pulse.
He walked to the comm and made several calls. Moving the receivers took priority. Then Miz. There had to be time enough. Closing the comm he returned to Miz and lightly stroked the black fur. She would live, he suspected—if they got her somewhere safe quickly. He stepped from his office; the carnage in his outer chambers surprised him. One of the problems of a soundproof study, he thought. Surely he should have heard something.
SECOND FLEET FLAGSHIP VINDICTIVE, COMBINE SPACE
“Now!” The long hairs of his white moustache blew in the wind from his open mouth. Fleet Admiral Frelob’s eyes gleamed with excitement as his fleets dropped and engaged the Combine base and its attendant ships.
The defenders didn’t stand a chance and soon the orbiting base lay broken, its great repair docks in ruins, its supply booms destroyed. Lack of a base in the sector would cripple the Combine Fleets.
The Fleet Admiral’s plans had gone as expected. They had pushed aside the Combine fleets in the sector and moved in on the base. Mad scrambling by the enemy had resulted in a heavier than expected defense and thus heavier than expected losses, but the Confederation could rest easy for the moment. The Combine would need a good year or three to put good the damage. Until then, the worst that the Confederation could expect would be heavy raids. Still more than enough to keep several fleets occupied, but the immediate danger had passed.
“Captain Glerchin.”
“Fleet Admiral?”
“Detach Second and Fourth Fleets and send them direct to Lormar. Detach Third Fleet and route it to Krevost.” Lack of comm with HQ, and word that First Fleet had designated Lormar as its regrouping site, governed his decision.
“Aye, sir.” Glerchin turned and began issuing the necessary orders in the Fleet Admiral’s name. When he finished, Frelob was just exiting his cabin with his Flag Lieutenant, who carried his case.
“We are transferring to Fifth Fleet Flagship immediately. Get your things together.” He transferred his attention. “Admiral Blarenti, you have your orders. Get to Lormar as quickly as possible and turn back the Tlartox.”
Admiral Blarenti nodded and the Fleet Admiral, followed by his staff, left the bridge.
“Captain Jensol, where is Terrible’s shuttle?”
“Approaching, sir. Docking in ten minutes.”
“Good. As soon as it leaves with the Fleet Admiral I want to go to hyperspace.” Blarenti looked at the detector and cursed. His widely spread fleet needed at least four hours to return to a satisfactory formation. The same was true for Fourth Fleet. Leaving earlier would just make reassembly that much worse on the other end. He ground his teeth in frustration.
Blarenti glared at Jensol, who nodded supportively. The Captain well knew that the Admiral had not directed the glare at him. After they defeated the Combine fleet, Blarenti had almost begged Frelob to detach his fleet to return forthwith to Lormar. Frelob denied the request. Better to hit the base with overwhelming strength, and thus ensure victory, than to lose at that junctu
re.
Blarenti agreed with Frelob on that point. However, all Intelligence reported the same thing: the Confederation Navy would have overwhelming strength with or without Second and Fourth Fleets. Only the Fleet Admiral’s caution and pigheadedness in following his plan rigidly required the delay. The original plan called for them to bring the Combine fleet to decisive battle at the base, not before. Luck had caught the enemy flat-footed. After that, hitting the base was just the cream on top of the milk.
* * *
Signals Lieutenant Borcheb studied the latest message from Lormar. So many questions and no answers. According to all he’d heard and read, Tenth Fleet had orders to evacuate Lormar’s Primes. Instead they reinforced them? And what in blue blazes was this about a 22nd fleet? Who was this Fleet Admiral Fenton who had taken control of the Primes and now directed the defense of Lormar?
It might have consoled him to know that Admiral Blarenti suffered the same confusion. It mattered not. At last, Second Fleet prepared to go the rescue of First Fleet.
Four hours later Second Fleet stood reassembled and prepared for jump. A new optimism infused the crews. Finally they were doing what they had wanted to do since hearing of the disaster at Cabrintoso. Now, they moved to the rescue. And now, finally, they were rid of that prig, Fleet Admiral Frelob.
“Jump!” ordered Admiral Blarenti. On the screen, the starfield wavered and disappeared to be replaced by the bland nothingness of hyperspace. Detectors showed the tightly formed mass of Second Fleet all around Vindictive, and the Admiral nodded, grimly satisfied.
“Full speed for Lormar,” he called out and, seconds later, the fleet increased speed together. A few smiles appeared, but every mind held the same thought: It would take two weeks to get back.
STARBURST
Ghost Fleet Page 25
