The timer clicked a warning. Mitch smiled and settled back in his chair, putting all thought out of his mind. The die was cast. There was no time to back out now, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t. He wanted, he needed, to strike as deep into the alien vitals as possible. It was what he’d been trained to do. He had a ship, a crew that would follow him, and a cause. It would be done.
He allowed his smile to grow wider. It wouldn’t be long now.
***
“Signal from the flag, Captain,” Commander Donker said. “We’re to perform the jump in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be on the bridge in ten,” Thomas said. He sat in his ready room, studying the jump projections. “Inform me if anything changes.”
He closed the connection, then turned his attention back to the projections. Theoretically, if they jumped together, the odds of accidentally crashing into each other were minimal. It was hard to be sure. The arrival zones were carefully spaced out in hopes of avoiding disaster, but no one had ever tried it before. The boffins had run thousands of projections, then concluded that there were too many uncertainties to say anything for certain. Thomas suspected they’d wasted their time. No one really believed the operation would come off without a hitch.
There’s no way to jump back too, Thomas thought. The virus might have a few dozen additional catapults on the far side, but no one knew for sure. No one knew anything for sure. The fleet would be going where no man had gone before ... a thought that had been rather more appealing before humanity had discovered a number of hostile alien races. We’ll have to fight our way through their lines.
Ice ran down his spine as he brought up the starchart. He’d seen it time and time again - they’d discussed their options so many times he was thoroughly sick of hearing them - but it hadn’t felt quite real until now. They were going to pass through at least twelve transits, before they made it back to friendly space. And they’d be heading directly towards the fleets besieging the border stars. That wasn’t going to be fun. Running towards the enemy forces struck him as thoroughly stupid.
We have to do it, he told himself. There’s no other way to win.
His console bleeped, a reminder he had yet to record a message to his wife and daughters. He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to say anything. He’d recorded a message before the fleet left Earth, along with checking his will to make sure there’d be no problems passing the estate to his older daughter. There wouldn’t be much inheritance tax, not after the last tax revolt. His younger daughter would get his savings and nearly everything else he owned, that wasn’t either entailed or gifted to someone else. Charlotte would have his pension and ...
The thought cost him a pang. He was fond of Charlotte, in his way. He’d certainly been relieved she’d taken to estate management like a duck to water, allowing him to continue his military career without worrying about his duty to his family. Charlotte had been ... fun ... and yet ... he sighed, inwardly. They’d never been particularly close, for all that they had two daughters together. She’d always tried to convince him to come home, to leave the military behind, and he’d always resisted. His country needed him, he’d said. It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. His career gave his life meaning. He knew he’d lose it if he put his uniform away and took his seat in the House of Lords.
And you might discover she nags you, time and time again, he thought, sourly. She’s always demanding that you do things ...
Thomas banished the thought as he keyed the terminal. “Charlotte,” he said. “By the time you receive this message, the operation will be well underway.”
He paused. The censors would blow a fuse if he made any reference to the operation itself. Charlotte presumably knew some of the details - she had contacts at all levels of government - but that argument wouldn’t cut any ice with the censors. Thomas would receive a sharp reprimand, perhaps even a court-martial. It would set a terrible example, the censors would point out, to let him get away with leaking information even if the person on the receiving end already knew it. They’d insist that there was no guarantee that Charlotte was the only person who’d hear the message. Hell, they’d hear the message. And being in line to the throne would cut no ice with them. They’d see it as a reason to demand even harsher punishment.
“I hope to make it back to you,” Thomas said. He wasn’t sure that was true. How long had it been since they’d slept together? Months? Years? His career hadn’t taken him away from home for that long. “I think we should try to visit the Highlands again.”
He snorted. He’d taken his new wife to the Maldives for their honeymoon, but that had been before the virus had brought international travel to a halt. The beaches had bored him to tears and ... in hindsight, maybe it had been a mistake to make that clear. Charlotte had been looking forward to lying on a beach, soaking up the rays. Britain was cold and wet and largely gloomy ... he shook his head. She’d known what she was getting, when she married him. They’d both known they had to produce children, for the family, and then ...
“We’ll discuss other matters when we return home,” he said. He didn’t want to discuss his daughters getting married, not in front of the censors. They weren’t meant to gossip, but ... who knew? He’d often suspected they leaked more information than they covered up. “I should be home for our special date and we can discuss it then.”
He hit the terminal in frustration. The message sounded terrible. He’d never been good at writing about his feelings, let alone his frustrations. He certainly couldn’t complain to her about the planning sessions, about how everyone from Admiral Onarina on down seemed intent on plunging into the unknown and to hell with the dangers. The Admiral might even be reliving her glory days ... Thomas felt bad for even thinking it, as if he’d crossed the line into treason, but it was true. Admiral Onarina’s naval career had been shaped by daring thrusts into enemy space, as well as a willingness to risk everything on one throw of the die. She’d practically committed mutiny against an aristocrat and gotten away with it ...
She had no choice, Thomas thought. He’d read the private files, the ones his father had buried under the manor. The old man had backed Captain Blake and discovered, too late, that he’d made a dreadful mistake. Captain Blake nearly got a lot of people killed.
The timer bleeped. Thomas keyed the console, deleting the message. He didn’t have anything like enough time to put together something Charlotte might actually like, let alone ... he snarled in frustration. She wanted him back home, living up to his rank and title. And yet ... his lips quirked. She was his agent. She spoke with his voice, as long as he was away from home. She wouldn’t have that if he came back home.
He stood and composed himself, then walked through the hatch onto the bridge. Lion floated within the catapult, tethered to the rest of the squadron. Thomas’s eyes lingered on the data code representing Unicorn, his lips thinning as he remembered just how enthusiastic Captain Campbell had been about the plan. Risking a frigate was one thing; risking over fifty capital ships was quite another. His eyes found HMS Thunderous, holding position at the other side of the mesh. Admiral Onarina was taking the plunge with them. Thomas had to admit it was impressive, but still ... it didn’t sit well with him. The fleet’s CO should not be risked.
“Captain,” Donker said. “All stations report they’re ready for the jump.”
No one is truly ready, Thomas thought. He’d seen the recordings from HMS Vanguard and the rest of her squadron. There’s no way to prepare for this.
He took his seat. “Put the countdown on audio,” he ordered. “And brace yourself.”
***
Susan sat in her chair and watched as the countdown ticked towards zero. She knew, unlike most of her subordinates, what it was going to be like. She’d been through it once before, back when she’d been a captain. She’d done her best to prepare her crews for the shock, but she knew her words had fallen on deaf ears. No amount of explanation could convey the coming impact, a shock that would hit them har
d ... she rubbed her forearm, cursing the medics under her breath. The transit shock would be painful, but it wouldn’t kill them. The claim the medics could keep the crew from being shocked might be worse, when it sank in that the medics had been wrong. Susan couldn’t believe they might be right. If they couldn’t explain why people were shocked, how could they devise countermeasures?
She studied the starchart, bracing herself. The operation had seemed a simple concept, when she’d come up with the basic idea, but in war the simplest things were often the hardest. It would have been a great deal easier to destroy the catapults, sending the virus back to stage one ... it wouldn’t have offered the prospect of winning the war, but it would have kept her from having to face the prospect of losing it. A handful of analysts had even argued the catapults were a deadly trap, intended to lure the humans into taking them intact ... she snorted in dismissal. It would have been a great deal easier to build a hundred battleships than thirty catapults. The very idea was absurd.
“Communications,” she ordered. “Get me a link to Commodore Yagami.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Susan leaned forward as the Japanese officer appeared in the display. “Admiral?”
“We’ll be jumping in ten minutes,” Susan said. “You understand what you have to do?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Yagami said. “Record the transit, destroy the remaining catapults and escort the personnel transports to New Washington.”
“No heroics along the way,” Susan ordered. She was fairly sure the transits would be unobserved, but there was no point in taking chances. “If you encounter the enemy, do everything in your power to avoid a direct confrontation. Your objective is to return home, not to engage the enemy.”
“I understand,” Yagami said. “The techs cannot be risked.”
Susan nodded. The Royal Navy was steadily running out of talented yarddogs, engineers, techs and researchers. The Admiralty had flatly refused to allow her to take the techs any further than the catapult system. She knew she was lucky to even get that concession. The government was trying to train more, but ... she grimaced. It took too long to train new techs when you had to assign older techs to training duties, taking them away from the shipyards.
Something else we have to buy time for, she thought, grimly. She’d seen the figures. And the new weapons, which would give the human race a decisive advantage if they lasted long enough to put them into production. A year or two of relative peace would give us enough time to get back on our feet and punch our way back into enemy space.
“Good.” Susan raised a hand in salute. Yagami had argued to be allowed to accompany the fleet, but his government had insisted he remain behind. She wasn’t sure which of them was luckier. “See you on the other side.”
Yagami saluted, then vanished from the display. Susan let out a breath as the countdown ticked onwards. It hadn’t been that long since she’d commanded a fleet, she told herself. She still had it. And she hadn’t done badly in her first engagement ... she put her doubts aside as the final seconds ticked down to zero. It was time to put everything on the line. It was time ...
“Five,” Richardson said. Susan wanted to scream at him to shut up. The rest of her staffers were looking nervous. But it was far too late. “Four. Three. Two. One ...”
Susan braced herself. The world went black ...
Chapter Twenty
Someone was screaming.
Mitch had the uncomfortable feeling it might be him, as he struggled back to wakefulness through a haze of pain. His head hurt dreadfully, as if he’d been on a three-night bender ... as if he was still a teenager with more money than sense. He thought he saw a woman - he didn’t know her - lying next to him, her body fading into nothingness as he returned to himself. His bridge had become a dark and shadowy place, a field of nightmares ...
He stumbled to his feet, alarm shooting through him as he remembered where and when they were. The spooks had sworn blind the catapult was going to hurl the fleet into an uninhabited system, but there was no way to be sure. A desolate system could still serve as a transit point between two more useful systems, cutting weeks or months off travel times. For all they knew, an entire enemy fleet was bearing down on them. He keyed his console, bringing up the near-space display. The fleet was in formation - it could hardly be scattered, when all the ships were linked together - and seemingly alone. But, again, there was no way to be sure.
“Report!” His voice sounded odd, even to himself. His words rasped in his throat. “Status report!”
Staci looked as if she was still half-asleep. “No enemy contacts detected, Captain,” she said, slowly. Her words came out one by one, as if she had to think about each one separately. “We’ve lost contact with all decks.”
Mitch gritted his teeth as he fumbled through his pockets for the injector tab and pressed it against his neck. He disliked using stimulants in battle situations, even though there were times when it was necessary. It was all too easy to wind up seeing things that weren’t there ... a surge of energy shot through him, clearing the cobwebs out of his mind. He reminded himself, sharply, that he had to be careful to question everything. The stimulant made it hard to think clearly.
“Pass the word,” he ordered. His voice sounded high-pitched, as if something was wrong with the air. He checked the life support automatically, just to be sure. “Everyone on the alpha crew is to take one dose of stimulant, just one.”
“Aye, Captain.” Staci injected herself, then turned to the rest of the crew. “I’ll go through the ship.”
Mitch nodded as the remainder of the bridge crew came back to life. The display was still empty, thankfully. They were in no state for a fight. He glared at the empty stimulant tab, feeling an odd desire for more even though he knew it was a bad idea. The stimulants gave energy, for a short while, but they also took away good judgement. He’d be spending too much time checking and rechecking himself, all too aware that his ability to monitor his thinking was also impaired. If the universe was changing and all of the tools he used to measure it were changing as well, his instructors had warned, how would he know the universe was changing?
Your mind is wandering, he told himself severely. He sat at the console and scowled at the display. You have to check yourself.
He felt sweat bead on his brow, even though the bridge was cool, as reports came in from the rest of the ship. The crew was in no state for a fight, with the beta and delta crews already heading to their bunks. They’d have to recover naturally - hopefully, they’d be ready to take over when the alpha crew started feeling the effects of the stimulants wear off. That wouldn’t be too long. Mitch hoped - prayed - that they’d have a day or two before they had to engage the enemy. The odds were going to be bad enough without the crew being stoned out of their minds.
His lips quirked. Didn’t that happen to Stellar Star once?
He bit his lip. It wasn’t funny. Stellar Star’s scriptwriters didn’t know how the universe actually worked. Anyone who tried such tactics in real life would be blown to atoms before they realised their mistakes. It was tempting to believe the enemy would be too busy laughing to open fire, but ... he snorted, despite himself. The virus had no sense of humour. It would just blow the crazy ship away before it could do something stupid.
Staci returned to the bridge. “Captain, the alpha crewmen are at their stations.”
Mitch nodded, stiffly. The fleet was coming back to life, sensors sweeping space in hopes of spotting a cloaked ship before it slipped into attack range. Admiral Onarina had ordered the fleet to bring up its sensors as quickly as possible, on the grounds there was no way to hide their arrival from prying eyes. The gravity waves would be visible halfway to the nearest star. There was no hope of avoiding detection, if there was someone watching and waiting under stealth. The display was empty ... Mitch gritted his teeth. The warning could have already been sent up the chain. A major alien fleet might already be on its way to their location.
“Disengage from
the fleet, then take us to point position,” he ordered. He knew what they were meant to do, upon arrival. Admiral Onarina hadn’t issued any countermanding orders. “And ready us for transit to the next star.”
He sat back in his chair as a dull quiver ran through the ship. It felt good to be free of the tethers, even though they were deep in hostile space. The tramlines on the display led back to human territory, but they’d have to sneak their way through a dozen systems first ... he shook his head. There was no way they could get the entire fleet through so many systems without being detected, unless they added weeks - if not months - to their transit time. If the enemy didn’t know they were there ...
“We have to assume they do,” he told himself.
Staci glanced at him. “Captain?”
“Just thinking out loud,” Mitch said. “We have to assume they know we’re here.”
***
Colin sat bolt upright as he heard a hissing sound, one hand grabbing for a handgun that wasn’t there. The platoon had been ordered to stow their weapons in the lockers before the jump, just to make sure one of the marines didn’t go crazy and gun down his comrades before he realised what he was doing. Colin had thought that wasn’t likely to happen, but ... there was no point in arguing. The lockers weren’t sealed. They just required a degree of intelligence and dexterity to open.
Fighting For The Crown (Ark Royal Book 16) Page 19