SECTION 16
Although reports suggest Thule as a likely target for the Ka’slaq fleet, Ulnar has to take other factors into account. The capture of one of five ships at S.C. 170 suggests the possibility, at least, that the aliens have access to the computer records that ship carried. If so, Endymion’s prominence as an exploratory base—and the point of origin of the human expedition—makes it a much more likely military target than Thule. At any rate, Endymion offers a better position for covering other vital worlds in the region than most of the other possible destinations.
With this in mind, Vice-Admiral Ulnar issues his orders, assembling the ships he needs for the eighteen-day voyage from St. Germaine to Endymion. Ponderous battlecruisers and darting, agile destroyers move slowly out of orbit, cut in their faster-than-light geodyne engines, and speed toward their destination at a pace hard to understand or even imagine.
Eighteen long days in interstellar space pass with maddening slowness. The nature of ultrawave communications makes it difficult to receive more than fragmentary information from any of the worlds of the Ninth Sector; an error of a degree or two in the alignment of transmitters can throw a message at a point light-years from the intended recipient, and the excessive speeds of the geodyne-powered ships makes it even harder to get an accurate fix. In effect, the fleet is cut off from outside contact and from information, orders, or warnings from the star systems that are Ulnar’s responsibility. If the choice he has made is wrong, Ulnar won’t learn about it until his ships actually reach Endymion and sort through the messages already relayed there, because ultrawave communications are much faster than ships, and they operate efficiently between the predictable orbital coordinates of individual worlds.
As they approach Endymion, the ships train their ultrawave receivers ahead; the closer they get, the more chance they have of picking up messages. But the receivers don’t pick up any intelligible transmissions—only a steadily increasing and disturbing kind of ultrawave static. One day out from Endymion, this static begins to show distinctly artificial patterns and pulses. When the squadron is nearly two hours from planetfall, the static lifts long enough for a weak, fuzzy signal to come through from the garrison.
“Endymion garrison to HQ, Endymion garrison to HQ. We have spotted alien ships numbering a hundred or more, coming in from beyond the frontier. Garrison outnumbered, but we’ll try to hold them until you can send reinforcements. Most targets are cruiser size, but one is like a giant, mobile planetoid. It’s some kind of a death ship, even worse than the Cometeers. Repeating . . .” The message plays again before being swallowed up in static.
“Detector status!” Ulnar rasps from his flag display at the rear of Valiant’s bridge.
“Ultrapulse radar systems jammed by interference, Admiral,” a young officer replies quickly. “Teleperiscopes operable, but at this range—”
“Get those ultrapulse units working, Captain,” Ulnar orders. “We have to see what’s going on!”
Captain Sammis, his sharp features set in a dour frown, nods. His stiff bearing and gruff orders to his bridge crew convey his dislike of having the admiral spell out his duty. Ulnar ignores him. Don Larno, captain of the battlecruiser Audacious and commander of Endymion’s tiny garrison squadron, is facing a vastly superior enemy on his own, and Ulnar is impatient to come to the aid of one of his most loyal friends. Nothing else matters.
“Ultrapulse display coming on line now, sir,” the same young officer reports.
The tactical tank beside Ulnar’s position comes alive with a confusion of faint lights and traces, some flickering madly. Distorted by ultrawave interference, the signals are poorly defined and could be false readings. Still, the picture they paint is grim.
A handful of yellow readouts represent the positions of the six ships of Larno’s squadron, still over an hour away at the fleet’s best speed. They are almost completely surrounded in the planning tank by red-colored blips, most of them somewhat smaller than a Legion battlecruiser. One fuzzy blob of light can only be Larno’s “mobile planetoid.” And Larno’s ships, a battlecruiser and a handful of destroyers, are formed up like an arrow streaking right toward the huge vessel.
“Can we raise the Audacious?” Ulnar asks.
Sammis gestures to the crewman manning the communications station. Like a well-oiled machine. Valiant’s bridge crew works together with effortless efficiency, with very little chatter and few spoken orders.
Minutes pass, and the symbols in the display tank continue to creep inexorably together. Ulnar opens his mouth to give vent to his impatience.
But Sammis beats him to it. “Wish there was a way to get around the ultrawave time lag,” he mutters.
Embarrassed at forgetting something so basic to space travel, Ulnar checks his impatience and concentrates on the planning tank and the smooth, perfectly coordinated movements of each of the enemy ships. No Legion fleet could ever hope to duplicate such absolutely precise maneuvering. Larno’s ships don’t stand a chance against such teamwork.
“We have contact.” the communications technician announces suddenly.
“Patch me in,” Ulnar orders. At the crewman’s nod, Ulnar turns toward the plotting tank and speaks into the microphone on the console near him. “Audacious, this is Flag. Break off the action, Larno . . . break off. You can’t fight a whole fleet for an hour or more!”
There is another interminable wait as Ulnar’s words, converted into the faster-than-light medium of ultrawave signals, race through space toward Larno’s ships. Over these comparatively short distances there is less trouble in aiming messages, but they still take several minutes to cross the distance between the two battlecruisers. Ordinary radio messages, at this range, would take weeks.
Finally Larno’s relaxed voice, almost unrecognizable against the background of static, breaks the silence. Ulnar knows he is hearing the voice of a man resigned to death.
“Audacious to Flag. Negative on your request—”
“It’s not a request, damn it, it’s an order!” Ulnar cuts in loudly before he realizes his words won’t be heard aboard the other battlecruiser for several more minutes. Seething, he picks up the thread of Larno’s message again.
“Can’t fight them all, but we can’t run either—those beauties are fast. My best estimate says that planetoid thing is some kind of flagship. If we can get in a couple of good shots with the vortex guns . . . well, it’s all we’ve got. I can’t fight dogfights with a hundred ships and expect to do much of anything.
There, is a long pause, and for a moment Ulnar thinks Larno’s transmission is done. Suddenly, Larno’s voice cuts in again, flat and emotionless. “Dave . . . tell Kay—”
All at once a shriek of melting electronics cuts off his words. Ulnar doesn’t need to see the fading light in the planning tank to know that Larno and the Audacious are gone. Don Larno’s last message to his wife would never be finished.
Two other Legion ships vanish from the display at the same time. The tiny garrison squadron is falling apart under the enemy onslaught. For a moment, Ulnar thinks the enemy ships on the display are becoming uncoordinated in their movements, but suddenly draw back into flawless formations and proceed to destroy the other ships of Larno’s squadron. The cloud of Ka’slaq craft seem to coalesce around the larger vessel like a swarm of insects around a lantern. But as the last of the Legion destroyers vanishes from the display, the alien fleet begins to spread out once more, some closing on Endymion’s undefended globe, others remaining clustered around the slow-moving planetoid. Another wave, perhaps a third of the total enemy force, turns on a new course—directly toward Ulnar’s squadron.
Ulnar hunches forward in his seat, his mind racing furiously. Caution battles a thirst for vengeance as he contemplates the possibility of engaging the Ka’slaq here and now. Larno’s force was overwhelmed; if the same fate overtakes Ulnar’s squadron now, the whole of the Ninth Sector is opened up to the aliens. But the need to strike a blow in Larno’s name is almost too strong to ignore. As the enemy ships close with incredible speed, Ulnar is well aware of the responsibility that hangs over his head like a sharpened blade, threatening not only himself and the men who serve in his handful of ships, but the entire League and Legion who lie behind them.
If Ulnar orders the squadron to engage the enemy fleet, go to section 21.
If Ulnar orders the squadron to avoid the enemy fleet but attack the planetoid, go to section 23.
If Ulnar orders his ships to avoid the enemy fleet but attack the alien force approaching Endymion proper, go to section 26.
If Ulnar orders the Ninth Squadron to stand its ground and defend itself, go to section 28.
If Ulnar orders his command to withdraw, go to section 32.