CHAPTER THREE
Commodore Ossian Wethermere, commander of the Relief Fleet’s Special Recon Detachment, saw the blip appear in the holoplot the same moment that his sensor officer Katherine Engan shouted, “Warp point activity confirmed, and bogey on the scope.”
At last, Wethermere thought, the pendulum of luck is swinging our way again. “Lieutenant Schendler,” he muttered to his comm officer, “tell Viggen to stand ready. Then signal Cluster Leader Temret aboard the Fet’merah that he must ensure that his selnarm link to us remains precise and clear. This operation depends upon that data conduit—at least until we come out of stealth.”
“Cluster Leader Temret signals his understanding and that he is sending the bogey a selnarm hail.”
“Any sign the bogey is getting twitchy?”
“None, sir. No way to say for sure, but I’d lay odds the Kaituni don’t suspect that Fet’merah is an Arduan ship masquerading as one of their own.”
“Not yet, they don’t—but they will, eventually. Lieutenant Ross, stand by on the primary beam. Zhou, is our plant ready to juice it?”
“Been waiting for hours, Commodore.”
Evidently the bogey was not entirely trusting of Fet’merah; it had increased speed on an oblique heading, keeping distance while also remaining in range to scan and react.
“Temret reports that the bogey is replying to his hail, asking for identification.”
“What kind of ship is she?”
“Armed courier, sir. Pretty much a twin to the one we grabbed at Mymzher a few months ago.”
So, the bogey didn’t have much in the way of armaments, but was fleet of foot. Of course, so were Wethermere’s other—and currently stealthed—ships, particularly the corvette Viggen. But the objective here was neither to chase nor destroy.
“How’s our reciprocal selnarm comm link to Fet’merah, Schendler?” he asked. This would not be an auspicious time for the Arduan telepathy-based relays to fail in either direction. Being stealthed, Wethermere’s own Q-ship—a former freighter they’d christened the Woolly Impostor—would be deaf, dumb, and blind if that occurred. Although stealth fields kept any sensor-alerting radiant energy from escaping or being reflected by the hull, it was a two-way blackout curtain: you couldn’t see or sense anything outside of it, either.
“Selnarm links steady,” Schendler replied. “Not enough data for pretargeting, though, sir.”
“Tell me when there is, and patch the telemetry through to Lieutenant Ross. And tell Commander Knight to ready Bloodhound One.”
“Captain Knight reports Bloodhound One is prepped and ready to deploy.”
I can just imagine. “Very well. Mr. Lubell,” he ordered the helmsman, “bring us to course thirty-seven by—and maintain speed.”
“That will have us converging with the bogey’s own trajectory in just over four minutes, sir.”
“I’m counting on that, Sam. We want to be as close as possible when we start this party.” And we can’t afford any screwups, not with so much at stake. It shouldn’t have been such a critical mission, but fate had decreed otherwise, and had started issuing those harsh decrees weeks ago.
Having trailed the Arachnid fleet through the attenuated warp links that joined together the various species of the now gutted Star Union, the immense Relief Fleet had finally surprised a small rear guard force that the Bugs’ Kaituni drovers had left monitoring the warp point between the systems known as Bug 29 and Bug 28. It had been the break that fleet commander Miharu Yoshikuni had been waiting for: a source of current intel and a better glimpse into the possible intentions of both the Bugs and the Kaituni, who were clearly not allies and often seemed to clash—violently—over the course they should follow. She and her two vice-commanders, Arduan Narrok and Orion Kiiraathra’ostakjo (an old friend and comrade of Wethermere’s), had not been pleased with what they had learned. The main fleets blocking the primary advance of the Kaituni from Pesthouse to Earth been dealt several sharp defeats by superior numbers and a surprising new weapon that used quantum entanglement to materialize matter within the same space occupied by the armored hulls of the largest classes of vessels (with the predictably catastrophic results).
Worse yet, the Kaituni drovers propelling the Bug fleet through the Star Union had imposed their will not by compelling arguments but by daunting numbers. An entire Dispersate worth of warships had arrived unannounced in the Star Union itself, ready to take charge of the lesser Arachnid horde that had streamed out of their hidden system toward their historical “feeding grounds” in the Star Union. The purpose of the Kaituni’s brusque shepherding of the Bugs: to drive them through the back door access to the main warp-line that led to Earth, and so into the rear of whatever formations were holding back the larger advance along that route. In short, they were to sever the one link between Earth and its main defense fleet, now known to be under the legendary Admiral Ian Trevayne.
This put the strategists of the Relief Fleet upon the horns of an often contentious dilemma: should they forge ahead to engage the combined enemy forces as quickly as possible, or attempt to trail them more closely to better learn their composition and also to buy time for several specialists to perfect what might prove to be a decisive new weapon? Tentatively combat-proven in the last engagement, this weapon held the promise of enabling Relief Fleet to disrupt key Kaituni selnarmic command and control links. A more polished version of that system would almost certainly mitigate the numerical disadvantages of the Relief Fleet in contending with two such multitudinous foes, but it was unclear if Trevayne and Earth had enough time left to justify any delay for the sake of further technological refinements. Ultimately, Admiral Miharu Yoshikuni had decided to pursue both strategies simultaneously: to attempt to catch the enemy fleets as soon as possible, but to do so carefully, while the research leaders—human Captain Chong and Arduan Lesser Cluster Leader Lentsul—strove to put the finishing touches on their game-changing technology.
But this was precisely where Fate had foiled their plans. After shattering a Kaituni cruiser and capturing a destroyer at the warp point that joined Bug 29 to Bug 28, the fleet had been at pains to probe Bug 28 with great care, not wanting to alert the enemy to their presence. However, it had taken several days to disarm a tripwire system on the other side of the warp point, comprised of a matrix of selnarmically-connected automated couriers—only to discover that the rest of the system was empty.
So, whereas the Relief Fleet had undergone the necessary evolution into assault order, it now had to go through yet another evolution into the fastest possible warp point transit formation that would also allow them to speed across the B 28 system. And with each passing day, they fretted the increasing possibility that the enemy fleet would pull too far ahead of them to catch.
Once through the warp point, the fleet did make extraordinary time: Bug 28, like Bug 27 beyond it, was a starless patch of space, remarkable only for the fact that it had both a warp point into it, and a warp point out to another destination. Consequently, the ships were able to use their Desai drives, which essentially doubled their speed.
But as they drew near to Bug 27, they confronted the same challenge they had faced while contemplating the warp point into Bug 28: how to enter without losing the element of surprise?
Fortunately, technical intelligence provided the answer. Having dissected the tripwire courier elements while the Relief Fleet sped across the inky black zone known as Bug 28, the two most expert Arduan analysts—Mretlak and Lentsul—discovered data indicating that the Kaituni had detached a single ship to remain behind to check the status of the tripwire at regular intervals. And that interval was within 36 hours of rolling around again. It was also implied that the bulk, if not the entirety, of the Kaituni fleet had come to a stop in the Bug 27 region. Reason: unknown.
Collectively, this meant that meant that the Relief Fleet’s most urgent and lacking combat necessity became adequate tactical intelligence: where were the Kaituni situated, how were they deployed, how were they positioned in relation to the Bugs they were driving before them? Happily, the Kaituni had now delivered what was very possibly a repository of information that would answer those questions and many, many more.
“Commodore,” Lieutenant Ross announced from her weapons console, “we have closed to optimal firing range on the Kaituni courier.”
“Lieutenant Engan, any sign that the bogey suspects our presence?”
“None, sir, although I think they are becoming suspicious of the false credentials that the Arduans came up with for the Fet’merah.”
“Then it’s time to start the party. Lieutenant Ross, show me your firing solution. Absolute precision is required.”
Ross aimed her well-veined hand at the new primary beam relays that had been rigged to her gunnery panel when the weapons were retrofitted into the Woolly Impostor only five days earlier. “I have ninety-nine percent plus reliability, sir. It’s helpful that we’ve seen this class of ship before and know right where to fire.”
Indeed it is, Wethermere thought. It’s not a hugely lucky break, but a damned welcome one, even so. “Very good.” Leaning toward the intership, he asked, “Captain Knight?”
Knight’s response from the Viggen was immediate. “Waiting for your go signal, Commodore.”
“Watch your sensors; you’ll need to do some precision flying.”
“Just as we rehearsed it, sir. I’ve got a bay full of eager Marines, so the sooner the better. Before long, they won’t care whose ship they tear up.”
“A figure of speech, I hope, Captain.”
“Me, too,” Knight grumbled. “The adrenaline is running pretty high back there.”
Which, given the specs on this op, was perfectly understandable. It was the sort of mission that generated a flight or fight response—and Marines were chosen, in part, because their temperament invariably leaned toward the latter. “’Sandro Magee can keep them in line. Just remind them of the objectives. And promise them extra beer.”
Knight gruffed through a throat clearing; that may have been as close to a laugh as Wethermere had ever heard emerge from the laconic career officer. “That should do the trick. Waiting on you, Impostor.”
Ossian turned to his helmsman, Sam Lubell. “Does our telemetry match the bogey’s?”
“Zero point zero deviation in all axes for the last fifteen seconds, Commodore. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
No, it certainly doesn’t. “Lieutenant Engan, prepare to drop the stealth field. Lieutenant Ross, as soon as your instruments confirm the selnarm-relayed target lock we’ve been getting from the Fet’merah, engage the pretargeted components of the bogey with the primary beam. Shift to secondary target immediately—but, do not execute until I instruct.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Lubell, you will rig our drive to automatically cut out .0001 seconds after the gunnery board processes Lieutenant Ross’ firing order. Prepare to maneuver to position Drillbit, as outlined in the OpOrd.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Lieutenant Engan—drop stealth. Ross: fire.”
Wethermere waited for the sensors to tell him if what they had rehearsed thirty times had actually worked. If it had, it would mean that Woolly Impostor would suddenly become visible to the Kaituni bogey, and in almost the same instant, its primary beam would be firing at less than twenty kilometers range. Closer than point blank in space battles, this was analogous to putting a pistol against an adversary’s forehead before pulling the trigger. If the adversary had been an armor-sheathed elephant, that might not have been so effective, but against this fragile opossum-sized opponent . . .
The primary beam—a weapon which had long since been superseded by more destructive systems, but remained unmatched for the precision of its annihilatory energies—licked out at the Kaituni armored courier and sliced a neat gash through the core of her drive coils without even nicking the power plants driving them. With shocking abruptness, the courier was at a dead stop in unfolded space.
And according to the holofeed that rose in a column alongside his command chair, Wethermere confirmed that the Woolly Impostor’s own drives had cut out the desired fraction of a second later, thereby preventing an overshoot while the residual power in the target’s drive coils expended itself.
“One hundred eighteen kilometers off her starboard quarter,” Engan shouted.
“Correcting to assault position Drillbit,” Lubell said calmly over the end of her report. “And—fixed at sixteen kilometers, same relative attitude.”
“Excellent,” Ossian replied with a general smile for his bridge crew. “Ross, neutralize the enemy weapons that can bear, and watch for her to roll to change her facing. Captain Knight, you have the green light; execute Keyhole.”
“Aye,” was all that Knight said as his own ship, the smaller but incredibly swift Viggen, seemed to materialize out of thin space just three kilometers over the dorsal midship section of the enemy. Clearly visible in the monitor, the Marine boarding team Bloodhound One came hurtling out and toward the stricken enemy, propelled by EVA maneuver packs. In the half minute that had elapsed, the enemy ship had done little other than attempt to rotate turrets toward Woolly Impostor, with the net effect of having those turrets disappear in actinic flashes of atomically disrupted matter.
“Lieutenant Ross, engage secondary target with primary beam.”
“Engaging, sir.”
White-blue corruscations flared at a single point on the slightly curved back of the Kaituni ship. Bloodhound One was diving straight toward it.
“Report on effect, Lieutenant Engan.”
“Estimates put hull-vaporization aperture at four meters, sir.”
Good, but not good enough. “Continue firing, Ross. Radially swivel the aimpoint, as we discussed.”
Ross hesitated. “The effect of that was not wholly proven, Commodore.”
“Do it.” Because if we don’t, there could be some Marines slamming into that Kaituni hull at too many gees.
“Executing,” Ross had murmured. The primary beam traced a slightly widening gyre now—invisible except for where the rim of the prior aperture sparked and fumed as more matter was torn into subatomic froth.
“Bloodhound One passing final commitment waypoint, sir.”
Wethermere nodded. “Steady hand on the beam, Ross. Schendler, patch me through directly to Major Magee. Open channel.”
“You are on open tactical, sir.”
“’Sandro, how’s the ride?”
After a moment of what might have been stunned silence, the deep, bear-like voice of Alessandro Magee muttered, “Exhilarating, sir. Particularly since we don’t know how it ends.”
Ossian studied the close-up of the dorsal spine of the ship. “I do. Commence retroboost. Weapons free. Boarding aperture, Lieutenant Engan?”
“Five meters. And change. Sir,” she reported.
“Ross, terminate beam. ’Sandro, it’s your show from here on in. But stick with the rules of engagement: don’t kill any you don’t have to, but if it looks like they are trying to self-destruct the ship, or burn out the computer—”
“Understood, sir. RoE will be followed. With extreme prejudice, in the latter circumstances.”
In the monitor, the Marines of Bloodhound One had slowed from a high speed blur to a fast rush toward the glowing, ragged edges of the five-and-a-half meter hole in the back of the Kaituni ship. As their EVA packs flared brightly with sudden retroboosting, Wethermere could hear a couple of grunts: the deceleration to make safe entry and landing inside the crippled enemy was sharp enough to compress ribcages.
Then, like a flock of diving raptors, the Marines of Bloodhound One were through the keyhole that had been bored into the courier from Woolly Impostor’s standoff fire at position Drillbit.
“And now what, Commodore?” Schendler asked.
“And now, we wait.” And hope ’Sandro takes the Kaituni alive, and their computers intact.