by Jay Allan
He had plans in place, of course, and most of the inhabitants of the city were already sheltered. That didn’t mean they would survive, of course…if the enemy hit the city hard enough, they would also get to the shelters…but it did give them a better chance.
“Achilles…” The voice was familiar, and it made him smile, or something close to it at least. Callisto was dear to him, and while he figured there were some differences in their outlooks, he knew she mostly agreed with him. He turned to face her.
“I know, Callisto,” he responded before she even finished, “we’ve got to get down to the shelter.” He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to. The Cutter Research Compound was vastly larger than it had once been, housing many more Mules than had existed in the early days. But it was exposed to aerial attack, as open to it as the city itself. He looked at the screen again. He figured he had at least half an hour, not very long by most standards, but more than enough time to retreat to the underground complex. “I will come in a few minutes…but you should get down there now.” He knew the words were pointless before he even uttered them, but he said it anyway.
“No way, Achilles…I am going down with you.” She sat next to him, emphasizing her point. Callisto was generally thought of as more or less subservient to him, but he knew better. She had different views on a number of items, and she had changed his mind as many times as he had modified hers.
He would have argued once, tried to convince her to go, but he was older now, and wiser…and he knew there was only one way to get her to leave. “Fine,” he said, sitting for a couple seconds before rising. “Let’s go…let’s get into position before things get too much farther.”
He glanced down at her, watching as she rose. He offered her a tiny smile, just for a second, and then he turned, and walked toward the door.
He stopped for a moment, looked out at his command center, wondering if he would ever see it again…and deciding that ‘no, probably not’ was the correct answer. He had told people that there was a chance, deliberately tried to keep everyone’s fighting spirit up to maximum. But he himself was doubtful, and he questioned whether any of his people would even survive.
His mind filled with all kinds of thoughts…and he realized that he had no idea what was going to happen, that the pessimism that tried to consume him was no more based in fact that the optimism he spouted out to the others. He was accustomed to being able to figure things out, to coming up with the right actions, but he knew suddenly that there was little for him to do, almost no contribution he could offer. He was in command, yes, in a manner of speaking at least, but his survival was now in the hands of Admiral Frette and her officers. He might see some way to interfere, some ability to offer aid to the fighters…but he realized that the admiral, and her spacers, almost all human and not Mule, really held the edge at the moment. They would decide more than anyone whether Earth-2 survived. Whether anyone survived.
He realized something else, too. If his people did live, if they endured and somehow won the fight, he had to find a way to lead, a way that brought the Mules and the other humans together, if not as equals, than something close to it. He wasn’t sure how that would work, for any of the participants…but he knew it had to be.
He looked behind him, saw Callisto and the others following him, and he wondered who would accept that…and who would push hard for total domination, for the Mules as rulers and the others as little more than slaves. He wanted to push those thoughts out of his mind, to assume they wouldn’t be a problem, but he couldn’t…especially since, despite his concerns, part of him still felt the way most of the Mules did.
* * *
Clark sat bolt upright, trying to do his best to give a sense of confidence to his people. Still, he felt anything but that. Worst of all, perhaps, was the boon—and curse—that came along with Admiral Frette’s last communique. He was the lowest ranked of her senior officers, but now she had placed him in command of seventy percent of the fleet.
He understood why Frette, the commander, had decided to pursue the enemy forces moving against Earth-2. She was the closest of all the senior officers to the enemy ships making the move, first of all, and that alone was enough of a reason. The defeat of the main fleet was crucial, of course, but in the end, somehow taking on the enemy forces getting through and preventing them from obliterating the surface of Earth-2 was the most important job. It made perfect sense for her to take on the flanking enemy, leaving the main battle in the hands of one of her officers.
It just didn’t make sense for it to be him.
But it was him, and he had to accept that…even though he was still in the process of truly realizing it, accepting it.
“Advise Admiral Gregorian to advance.” He hadn’t spent much time reviewing the status of the overall fleet, but he knew one thing. If he didn’t keep the enemy under constant pressure, they might divert even more ships to their end run. He knew Admiral Frette had enough on her hands without more enemy vessels to deal with, and that meant he had to not only win the main fight…he had to press it hard every minute, keep the remaining vessels fully engaged.
Yet, all he could think about was the fact that Admiral Gregorian, who was older and who outranked him, should be in command. But Frette had been clear…to both of them. He was in charge.
“Yes, sir.” Gregorian’s response was perfectly calm, showing no signs of resentment. But Clark knew there was some, that there had to be.
He turned and looked at his bridge crew. He knew that the largest older vessels, the ones used in the earliest days of Earth-2, the ships that had come with the original settlers more than sixty years ago, had as many as 30 or more stations on the bridges. But his ship had only five…plus himself. That was the result of more than half a century of constant pressure from the enemy, of the endless need to field more ships than the population should have been able to sustain. His vessels, all of them, were highly automated, with vast numbers of personnel replaced by systems and robots. It might have given him a sense of relief to have so many fewer people under his command, but, in truth, that was all he knew. Though he was aware of the realities of the earlier vessels, he had mostly led ships whose crews were close to those he currently commanded. Even the few of the older vessels that remained were updated, their crews larger than the newer ships, but vastly smaller than they once were.
He wondered what was going through Admiral Frette’s mind. She had actually served on ships that contained hundreds, even thousands, of crew. But even with her, that had been a long time ago. There were fewer and fewer people in the fleet who remembered such things, at least from actual service. The force was mostly relatively new, the majority of its people in service after the last desperate fight against the Regent. That battle had been costly, very costly, but as he looked around, he realized that few of his people had fought in it. They were now fighting the greatest battle they had ever seen, that anyone had witnessed, at least out here, beyond the other human empires. Worst of all, even if his people somehow won the fight, saved Earth-2 from total destruction, it would buy at most a couple years, and then the enemy would be back.
Unless Max Harmon was right…and he somehow managed to destroy the Regent. That thought was almost absurd to Clark…but it was a possibility, he supposed.
The ship shook suddenly, and he realized immediately that it had taken another hit…a bad one. His head shifted over to his aide, but the report came before he was able to get out the first words asking for it.
“Hit in section B-3, sir. It’s bad. Engine power down 30%, three port laser batteries down to 40%.”
Clark listened to the words, which only emphasized his existing thoughts. He knew it was bad…though it was probably a bit worse than he’d expected at first.
“All available damage control there…now!” It was a pointless order, something that would have happened whether he had said it or not. But it was all he could do. The ship’s weapons were firing, the whole fleet was heavily engaged. He had w
orried about taking command, about what to do…but now he realized, there wasn’t much to do. Not right now, at least. His forces were closely engaged with the enemy, and the ultimate turnout of the fight would depend far more on the targeting of his gunners and the skills of his people than on any commands he issued.
At least for now.
It suddenly struck him. Frette had understood that. She had remained with the main fleet for long enough…long enough for it to enter the final phase of the battle. Now, she was chasing the enemy forces heading for Earth-2, and she had left him in command…with little to do. He still thought one of his superiors should have been in charge, but he realized that it didn’t matter, not that much. Unless something unexpected happened, the battle would continue on its own…until one side or another was completely destroyed. And which that was would depend largely on how each ship was handled, on every gunner in the fleet, every technician and engineer. He was struck by how little there was for the commander to do just then.
Little but to watch…and to wait and see if something came up, or if his fleet just fought to the end.
* * *
Admiral Frette stared at the screen, her face as cold and hard as the rest of her body. She had long been considered unemotional, cold…but normally the cause of that was Admiral West, and the loss of her lover. This time it was different. For twenty years, Frette had considered this, the battle to save her new homeworld. She had known it would come one day, and she had imagined it a hundred ways, no, a thousand. But though she’d allowed herself to think that she was ready for it, in truth, she knew now she wasn’t. There was no way to be ready for it, she realized, even for a young and able commander. She was old herself, and not happy. Her fear wasn’t of her own death…in many ways, that would be welcome. But she realized that she was fighting for a million and a half people, for their future…and she was determined to win.
Somehow.
Her ships had been close to the enemy forces now veering toward Earth-2, and she had reacted immediately. She had expected the enemy move, and she had maneuvered her forces to be ready for it. But the whole thing was skillfully executed, better even than she had expected, and the enemy force was ahead of her. The enemy vessels had to get close to the planet to truly bombard it, and that gave her time to catch them, to engage. A little. But she realized there was an excellent chance that some of the enemy ships would reach Earth-2, and they would bombard it.
Her main fleet was in close range now, and her ships were firing, even as the enemy shot back. That battle would continue, for a considerable time. She knew her forces had to win…but she wasn’t sure they could. She understood that her fleet had to be victorious in the entire fight, including the main battle farther out.
But she knew her own force, the ships she had pulled off to chase the enemy moving toward Earth-2, had even the more desperate job. If the enemy was able to destroy the planet, to bomb it intensely enough to kill most of its people…it really didn’t matter whether her main fleet won or lost.
She stared at the display in her vessel. The Regent’s ships were moving toward Earth-2 at full speed, but some were fighting with her own ships as they did. That gave her vessels a bit of an edge. Their sole mission was to destroy the enemy fleet, while deterring her force was only a secondary role for the enemy. She knew the Regent well enough to understand that all of its ships were expendable, while every one of hers destroyed would lead to crying and despair back on Earth-2. Assuming anyone survived there.
She watched as ships began to disappear…from both sides. Most of the shots taken by either force were misses, of course. The two sides both had highly developed evasion systems, and as they advanced, they wiggled and jerked about. But sometimes the targeting system predicted a ship’s location correctly…and delivered a hit. And enough hits destroyed a ship.
She looked, and she imagined the vast amounts of energy being wasted, blasted through open space…and the considerably smaller quantity actually being delivered into one of the vessels. It was quadrillions of watts, and for a passing instant, she wondered how much good that kind of energy could have done if the Regent and the people of Earth-2 could just get along. The expenditure of energy in war was vastly more than in any peaceful endeavor…she knew that. But such thoughts only lasted a few seconds. She was old enough to remember that mankind was almost constantly at war, with himself before the Regent. Hell, she thought, you don’t have to look much farther than the regular humans, and the Mules and the Tanks to see the true nature of mankind…
But she forced the thoughts out of her mind, not because they weren’t true—they were, she was almost certain of it—but because none of that mattered unless her forces prevailed. And she was still far from certain that was going to happen.
“Increase all weapons to 115% output.” She was already at 110%, and she had been lucky so far. Going to 115% would probably double her chance of losing ships to malfunctions and accidents. But she had done some quick calculations, extended the results of the fight to the end…and while her forces would savage the enemy, they were likely to fail to keep them back from Earth-2. They were going to lose, or at least, Earth-2 was going to lose…unless they found a way to increase the damage they put out.
“Yes…increasing to 115%.”
She could hear the sound in the technician’s voice, the concern he felt. But she was also sure that he agreed with her. Her people all knew the importance of the battle, and she was certain they were in it until the end. If only because defeat was, inevitably, the end for them all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
E2S Carson City
Alpha-Omega 12 System
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Harmon stared at the screen, watching the four enemy vessels…and becoming more aware with each passing moment that they hadn’t detected any of his ships, at least not yet. His vessels had moved from their original meeting place, but barely a thousand kilometers, a large distance in some terms, but barely anything in the sense of interplanetary travel. They had remained there, in place for several hours now, watching…and waiting. The meeting was over, and he had decided what his ships would do. But he still couldn’t give up on the missing vessel. He hoped that it would appear, even as he knew his movement would make it difficult or impossible for it to find his ships.
He also realized that he didn’t have a lot of time. The enemy had all kinds of detection equipment, and eventually, they would pick something up, some indication that one or more of his ships were there. No doubt, they had already done so…that was the most rational explanation for the launch of the ships. For a while, he had been terrified that the enemy had known where his people were, that the Regent had some kind of detection device that had picked them up, but it had since become clear that they didn’t, that they had, at most, detected some kind of anomaly that warranted investigation. That wasn’t good, but it could be worse. Much worse. The four enemy ships were heading off into the system, away from his vessels.
Still, he couldn’t wait much longer. He had watched as the four ships that had launched scanned the area. He had hoped against hope that his last ship would appear. Now, he had to begin the operation. It was time to destroy the Regent…or at least to try. And he was fighting off the realization closing in on him of just how little he had brought, the tiny force he was launching against the enemy’s stronghold.
“Okay, Commander…it is time. Issue the orders to all ships. We will separate in five minutes, and it is essential that every vessel follow its orders exactly. There is to be no communication of any kind. The Regent is very close, and we simply cannot take any chances. We are counting on each ship to carry out its orders, to obey them to the letter. The survival of our entire population—on Earth-2 as well as here—may hinge on what happens in the next hours…almost certainly will.” He spoke, delivering the speech he had planned. His voice was solid, fairly at least, but inside he was tense. Part of him knew his plans were crazy, that his chances of success were r
emote.
But the other part of him was determined…and it was almost sure it would succeed. He had used almost all of that in drafting the plan, in creating the operation.
“Very well, sir. Sending instructions now.” He could hear the uncertainty in his ship’s commander’s tone. He knew all of his people would feel that way, but they would do what he needed. They would give all they had…and just maybe, that would be enough.
His eyes focused on the screen, just as it changed, from showing the ships themselves and the region of space around them to displaying the area of the planet they would hit. The spot where the enemy ships had taken off from. The location Harmon hoped also contained the Regent.
He counted down in his head, the final moments before the operation launched. The last thirty seconds passed slowly…very slowly. But then he felt it, the uncoupling of the other ships. Three of the vessels were attached to his own ship, Carson City, and the others were connected to each other. But within a minute, they had all separated, and with their connection went any form of communication. He wouldn’t speak with them again, not until they were discovered, until the operation was fully underway. Until his people were committed…to victory, or to death.
* * *
Captain Leigh stared at the screen. She was still searching for the other ships, some of them, at least…but all she saw was the enemy forces. Her vessel was moving slowly, very slowly, but it was moving, and she knew that increased the chances the enemy would detect her. She was ready to cut off all power, to float along, as undetectable as possible, if the enemy came within a certain range of her. But after scanning the general area around the planet, the vessels set out, almost directly away from her position. She let out a sigh of relief, and she still watched. But she realized she had dodged a problem, for the moment, at least.