Conqueror

by Richard Tongue

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I truly am, but the decision is final.” Turning to Winter, she said, “I was extremely interested to learn of the existence of your squadron. Just what is your current combat status?”

  “I’ve got six pilots, ma’am, and Javelin fighters for each of them, with sufficient ordnance to keep them going for a while. We’re going through our entire inventory right now to make sure we haven’t experienced any sabotage, and I expect to be able to put our full strength into the air in less than two hours. We’ve also got a couple of SAR shuttles we inherited from Ariadne, but I’m afraid that’s about it.”

  “Three of those pilots are from the Thirteenth, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Frowning, she replied, “They’re yours. I’ll have them transferred formally to the Double-Deuce, and the Thirteenth will be placed on the inactive roster for the time being, though if this war lasts for any length of time, it won’t stay there for very long. I’ll do my best to get you some more pilots as fast as I can, but it might be a while before I can spare any.” Turning to Nguyen, she said, “If anyone tries to break into this link, cut the connection at once.”

  “I understand, ma’am. I’ve got my finger on the control and we’re monitoring all local traffic.”

  “The Cabinet just finished meeting in closed session, and I doubt it will come as much of a surprise to any of you that they elected to reject the oh-so-generous offer of our friends on Taranis, though we haven’t actually replied yet. We’re buying as much time as possible to get ready to face their attack. The reason Commodore Maddox isn’t on the link at present is that he’s putting together a task force. Eight corvettes, the bulk of the fleet. We decided that there was no point holding anything back. If we’re going to beat them, we’re going to need to use everything we’ve got. We’re sending in twelve attack squadrons, as well.”

  “Twelve squadrons?” Winter said. “That’s overkill, Commodore. Half that strength should be sufficient to finish that ship, if it was properly directed.”

  “I agree, but I’d rather send too many ships to the party than not enough. We’ve taken into account your observations of the surface of Taranis, as well. Our best interpreters suggest that they’ve put some sort of garrison into that base, that they’re almost certainly using it as a staging area to prepare for an invasion of Caledonia. Naturally, we have no intention of permitting that to happen. We’ll see them burn first.” She paused, then added, “Colonel Bouchard is currently preparing a strike force to take the base on the ground. He’ll be leading it himself, along with the rest of the fleet. Part of Operation Damocles.”

  “Commodore,” Winter said, folding his hands together, “I can’t imagine that the Terrans launched this attack without knowing exactly what they were going to be up against. If they’ve successfully infiltrated the Patrol, then they’ve got all the strategic and tactical data they need to plan their attack. So far, they haven’t made any mistakes, and have demonstrated significant technological superiority.”

  “We have numbers on our side, and we’re bringing our new weapons into the line. We’re also conducting a series of security sweeps to remove any suspected terrorists, anyone we’re not certain of.” She paused, then said, “We’ve got to get this out of the way quickly. The situation on Tartarus is deteriorating rapidly. They’re going to need our help soon, or the local government might collapse.”

  Nodding, Winter said, “Ma’am, the enemy commander must have some idea how we would react. They wouldn’t expect us to simply roll over and surrender. Any assessment of Caledonia would tell them that we’d fight, and that we would put together our fleet and take precisely the precautions you’re outlining.” Leaning forward, he said, “They have chosen this time and this place to strike, ma’am. There must be a good reason why. They must think that they can beat us, or they’d never have taken the chance.”

  “I concur,” Garcia said, nodding. “There’s more here, ma’am, more than we know, and we have to concede that there is a risk that our task force might be flying into a trap, just as Ariadne did.”

  “Which is why we’re going in with everything we have, and why we’ve arranged for a few distractions, one of which will be undertaken by the Double-Deuce. We want you to launch an attack upon that base, using modified Foxfire missiles adapted for ground assault. The specifications should be in your database somewhere. Such an attack launched at the right time should draw off some of our defenses, give the fleet an easier time.” She leaned back, and added, “This is purely a diversionary raid, so the actual destruction of the base is merely a secondary objective.”

  “That’s going to be a big ask with six fighters, ma’am,” Winter replied.

  “I’m sure you’re up to the challenge, Wing Commander.” She raised a hand, then said, “You were right, we were wrong, and this time, virtue is being rewarded. You’ll remain in your current position for the present, but we intend to strengthen your force to at least two squadrons at the earliest opportunity, likely within a few days. One thing this mess has done is given us a lot more leverage with the defense budget, and we’re going to need to raise forces for the planned Tartarus campaign. The trouble’s spread off-world, now, into the Hades Belt. It took years to pacify it last time. I just hope we can do it sooner.”

  “Assuming we beat back the enemy, ma’am,” Winter noted. “I still don’t think this is anywhere close to a sure thing. They’re going to give us one hell of a fight, and even if we win, it’s going to hurt, and badly.”

  “All the more reason to strengthen our forces as much as possible now. I’ll contact you again before the battle. I’ll be commanding the fighter elements myself.” She cracked a smile, and added, “I’m not staying behind a desk for this one.”

  “I can’t blame you for that, ma’am. We’ll keep our eyes open and let you know if the situation changes.”

  “Excellent. Then all that remains is to wish you good luck, and good hunting. Out.”

  “And we’re going to need both,” Dubois said, shaking her head. “What the hell does she think she’s doing?”

  “Cassie…,” Garcia began.

  Turning to him, she said, “Six fighters to attack a major strategic site? That’s insane. We’re not going to be able to fool anyone that way. It’s an obvious decoy, obvious enough that they might actually let us through on the assumption that we’re going to fly an abort mission, and…”

  “That’s why we’re not going in with six fighters. We’re going in with all eighteen.”

  Glancing at Bradley, Dubois said, “Look, Vicky’s a good shuttle pilot, but you can’t seriously be thinking of putting her in a cockpit. Where are you going to find twelve pilots from?”

  “I’m not going to. Danny, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t one of our Javelins a two-seater? A instructor’s craft?”

  Nodding, he replied, “Sure. I put it at the bottom of the priorities list, but I suppose I can move it up easily enough if you want to take an observer along for the ride.”

  “I was thinking more of making use of the remote control option.”

  Nguyen’s mouth dropped, and he said, “Jack, that’s intended for use on a single fighter at once, and for short periods at that. You can’t seriously be thinking about controlling an entire squadron through an attack run.”

  “Not all of them, I grant you. Six should be sufficient for the attack.”

  “It’ll have to be,” Nguyen replied. “I’m not even sure I can put twelve planes on the line, Jack.”

  “We could program the course into the computer,” Cohen mused. “It wouldn’t be easy, not by a long shot, but I’d say it would be quite possible. The operator would only have to work the controls briefly for each one, just enough to make it look as though there was a squadron operating as a high guard, watching for enemy fighters while the rest of the squadron made the attack. That’d be in line with current doctrine for surface assault anyway.”

  “You actually think that
there’s a chance we could pull this off?” Dubois replied. “Hell, sir, if you’re crazy enough to try this, I’m crazy enough to go along for the ride. We’re still going to be short a pilot, though. Someone’s going to have to fly the thing, and even if it can take part in the attack…”

  “It can, but flying it is going to be a challenge. Given that Haynes has recently flown instructor ships, I think she’s the best choice to take the controls. I can monitor the whole attack from the second seat anyway.” Turning to Garcia, he added, “Randy…”

  “No. Sir.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you, yet.”

  “Of course I do. Jack, I haven’t ridden fire in five years, and…”

  “Then it’s long overdue that you got back in the saddle. Back in the old days, you were a pretty good rocket jock.”

  “Old days being the operative word. Damn it, I haven’t even sat in a simulator…” He paused, then said, “Who’s going to run Flight Ops, anyway?”

  “Danny, Vicky, and anyone else we can round up. Realistically, we’re going to be putting this one together on the fly.” Looking up at the clock, he said, “Ten hours to launch. That should give us enough time to get some sort of attack plan put together and get our fighters ready for the mission. Before we start, Randy, one question.”

  “Sure?”

  “This place do desserts?”

  Chapter 11

  “Credit for your thoughts?” Nguyen asked, as Winter looked up at the fighters, the borrowed engineering crews struggling to prepare them for the battle to come. He gestured at Winter’s sleeve, and said, “Aren’t you under dressed?”

  “Huh?” Winter replied. “I guess I’ll get around to it sooner or later. Doesn’t seem much point worrying about it right now. I’m not even sure the right insignias are anywhere on the station, and I certainly don’t have time to get a new uniform jacket tailored.” Looking at the fighters again, he added, “I never thought we’d be doing this here. I mean, I figured we’d end up riding fire again, one way or another. Either at Tartarus, or sparring with the Technocrats again, but I guess I always associated Caledonia with safety. Peace. That sort of thing.”

  “It’s our job to keep it that way, Jack,” Nguyen replied. “That’s what we signed up for.”

  “Really?” Winter said with a grin. “I don’t know about you, but I signed up for the flying.” He paused, smiled, then said, “Actually, I think I do know about you. Where else could you get to play with toys like this?”

  “A museum?” the engineer replied. He patted the nearest fighter on the tail, and said, “They really don’t make them anything like they used to. You could bury a Javelin in a swamp and get it operational again after a hundred hours of work. They built these beasts to last. The Scimitars, the Rapiers, they’re too damn fussy. Thirty hours for every hour in the air. That’s fine if you’re having a parade-ground inspection, but if you actually want to fight a war, you’re going back to the Javelin every damned time. I still say they deliberately screwed up the upgrade path to force us to convert.”

  “Probably true, but that just means that we’ve got a few hundred of these lying around waiting to get back into service.” He looked at the work crews, and asked, “How are they performing?”

  “As well as can be expected given that I’ve only got four people who really know what they’re doing. Don’t get me wrong, the Patrol makes a pretty good mechanic, but they’re just not used to the fine work, the miniaturized equipment. They’re getting there, but it’s going to be pretty tight if we’re going to meet your deadline, and I don’t think there’s a hope in hell of putting them through flight test, even if we had the pilots for the job.”

  Nodding, Winter said, “I’m not even going to try, especially if this is all going to be jury-rigged. No point putting any more pressure on the equipment than we absolutely must, to say nothing of the pilots. I’ve ordered them to bed for the next five hours. Bought out the luxury rooms of the local Notahilton.” He smiled, and said, “Nothing like a war to bump up the budgets, but I can’t wait to see the look on Tyler’s face when we submit our quarterly accounts.”

  “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to have a harder time of it than anyone else during the mission. Commanding a squadron that’s been formed for less than three days, flying half a dozen fighters yourself, against vastly superior odds. Should it go wrong, you’re going to be facing ten to one odds at best, not to mention that cruiser lurking out in the shadows.” He paused, then said, “Seems to me like you should be thinking about following your own orders and hitting the sack.”

  “I never can sleep before a battle. I gave up trying a long time ago. I’ll crash when we get home, I promise.” He shook his head, and said, “Assuming we pull this one off. This is a damned big gamble, Danny.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The worst part is that I’m hoping for trouble. The worse it is for us, the easier a time the task force will have in their attack on the cruiser.” He frowned, continuing, “I still can’t quite get past the idea that there’s something we’re overlooking, something those Terrans have in mind that we can’t see. They wouldn’t launch an attack like this unless they were damned sure they were going to pull it off.”

  “Nobody ever said that we had to fight smart people.”

  “But they’ve been smart! They’ve made every move right, all the way.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Hell, we don’t even know who we’re fighting. Earth’s a radioactive ruin, and I know the Technocrats sent an expedition to Sol not two decades back. They didn’t find a damned thing, just a collection of picked-over corpses.”

  “Not all of the fleet was accounted for,” Nguyen replied. “Oh, we know what happened to the capital ships, but you know how far old Earth’s reach was, back in the day. Dozens of light-years on from where we are now. And we don’t go to the Old Core that often.”

  “There’s nothing to see except a collection of battlefields, most of them with enough old defense drones to make any visits scary as hell. The Technocrats lost half their expedition that way, and they didn’t even try for a landing.” He paused, then said, “Though I suppose I might be confirming your argument. It’d be a good place to hide. I suppose it’s possible to think of some sort of hidden base out there, somewhere in the dark, but what’s their goal?”

  “Caledonia was, still is, one of the most prosperous worlds in space, with a lot of orbital industries.”

  “You think it’s that simple? A base of operations?”

  “If they’re trying to establish some sort of revived Terran Confederation, then it wouldn’t be a bad place to start. They must have been planning this for a long time if the CFA are working with them, though. They only started to get anywhere a few years back. Meaning that they’ve had funding, maybe equipment, even advisors thrown their way. Where the hell was Intelligence when all of this was going on?”

  “Would you have figured on something like this happening?” Winter asked. “Heads will probably start rolling when all of this is over, but we’ve got to get there first, and I still don’t like this one damned bit. On paper, we’ve got the edge, sure. Our new missile types should be able to rip through the cruiser’s armor, but we’ve never had a chance to test them in action. We don’t even have that many of them in inventory.”

  “Be fair. We never realized we were going to need the damn things.”

  “That’s no excuse. Someone was going to construct proper capital ships again, sooner or later.” He looked at the fighters again, and said, “That’s not even our design. Not really. The original Javelins were designed on Earth, back before the war. We’ve modified them here and there over the years, but we’ve never managed to put anything together anything close to their level. We’re decades behind Earth technologically, and they’ve had a century to come up with new equipment, new techniques.”

  “They can’t be that far ahead of us, or they’d
have just stormed in and taken us without a fight.”

  “Would they? I’m not so sure. Let’s look at what would happen if they tried that, used overwhelming force. Every world in known space would join forces to smash them. There’d be no choice, it’d be a matter of self-defense. To do anything else would be to invite annihilation. It might be a long war, but with all those resources lined up, we both know who would eventually win. And say they lose? Then there’ll be another alliance. Not as big, not as urgent, but the Technocrats at least would want a share of the spoils of victory, particularly if there’s a shipyard capable of building Conqueror-class cruisers on the table.”

  “Then you’re suggesting that if they’re going to win the war, they’ve got to do it in a very specific way if they don’t want to attract too much attention. Though I would have thought that conquering Caledonia would be more than enough to get the other worlds concerned.”

  “Remember that they’re making noises about liberating Tartarus. I wouldn’t be surprised if they let them join the Technocratic League. Let’s be honest, Danny, we’ve not gone out of our way to make that many friends, especially with some of the talk our politicians have been spouting lately about increased military spending, new projects for expansion. There are more than a few worlds out there happy to see us taken out of the equation, especially if these Terrans just sit tight for a while, build up the industries again.”

  “You’re acting as though we might lose,” Nguyen said, a frown on his face. “That’s not a good way to approach a battle. I’ve seen pilots go out talking like this, and they have a tendency not to come back. We can’t afford to lose you. Especially if this is going to be a long war.” Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t underestimate our forces either. I know the fighters we’re flying are hangar queens, but we’re only asking them for one battle, then all the time they need to recover. Losing Hercules Station is a hell of a blow, but it’s recoverable. We’ve got enough civilian assets to make up the loss until we can construct a new military anchorage, and they’ve been talking about an improved spaceport for years.”