by Bob Mauldin
“Lord, we are currently in the fringes of a trinary system. No signs of the Humanz or Shiravi, but I am picking up signals that appear to be less than random. I have the computer checking now.”
Gavrit sat heavily in his command chair and waited while the comm officer refined his data. At last the computer blinked and Garpal read directly from the screen, “Lord, there is no indication that any species has visited this system—no message traffic, no signs of any construction—but the computer reads intelligent signals emanating from the yellow star nearest us.” He pointed to an image on his screen.
Fleet Lord Gavrit transferred the images to his own screen and compared them to information he’d been given before beginning this hunt. “That is indeed the system we’re searching for. All information from previous visits to this region has been made available to me, and our attempt to search out the Humanz from a second angle appears to have been effective. Make course for the new system cautiously,” he ordered the navigator. “I will not have our prey spooked before we’re ready to pounce. How long to reach the fringes of the system?”
“Lord,” the navigator responded as his finger flew over his own console, “it appears that we will spend four more periods before we reach that point.”
“So long? This creeping through the dark can sap the patience from a Hunter’s bones, no? Very well. Continue with standard protocols and regular reports. I will guide us into our final position.” Not waiting for verification of his orders, the fleet lord returned to his chambers to prepare a message to be sent to Homeworld that would arrive months after any possible engagement with the Humanz took place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Derek Carter stood behind the navigator’s station aboard the Shiravan flagship Light of Dawn and stared intently at the battlecruiser’s display. “That’s got to be it!” he exclaimed. Five months crammed into the overstaffed ship with nothing to do but wait to be called to identify Earth’s system had taken its toll on him. The relief that flooded through his system threatened to drag him to his knees. “I’m home,” he whispered.
Rentec do’ Verlas, first Ambassador to the Human Race, looked at the human sympathetically. “Are you so certain, my friend?” he asked. Many times, he’d tried to imagine what it would be like to be stranded lightyears from home, the sole representative of his race, and totally at the largess of aliens to get home. He admired—and secretly feared more than a little bit—the drive and internal fortitude that had allowed his friends Derek Carter and Maggie Spencer to maintain their sanity. Somehow, he doubted he would have fared as well.
As he looked at the long-range scan on the navigator’s console, Derek felt a connection form between himself and the image on the screen almost instantly. Something primal, buried deep in his genes at the dawn of time, recognized the configuration of the system. On a more rational level, he pointed at the sixth planet. “How many planets have you seen that are ringed like that?”
The navigator responded, “I know of two ringed planets and one ringed moon, but none so large as this one appears to be.” His fingers flew over his instruments, trying to eke out any more information at this distance.
“Eight major planets, an asteroid belt between the fourth and fifth, and the sixth is ringed. It is as you described, Derek,” Rentec agreed. A true comradeship had grown between the two disparate aliens over the last half-turn, and Rentec felt a wave of joy wash over him at the expression on Derek’s face. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the crewman seated at the console. “Navigator, set course for that system. Standard approach, and stop at the outer edges until we can get a full scan of the system.”
Rentec decided a gamble was in order. Trusting in Derek’s feelings, he turned to Light of Dawn’s Captain and said, “Download the coordinates of the target system to the corvettes, Captain. Brief the crews and let them complete their missions.” One six-man corvette would head back to Shiravi while the other searched out the second Contact Fleet. The matriarch would have the coordinates of the human homeworld, and the second fleet would immediately head this way, operating as either a relief force or under their original orders as a reprisal fleet. Both Contact Fleets had a human with them to act as interpreter and to ensure safe passage, if such was possible. Both fleets were composed of two battlecruisers carrying five interceptors and a long-range scout, four destroyers carrying three interceptors each, two destroyer escorts, and two heavy cruisers. The corvettes had been attached for just this purpose due to their extreme speed and the ability of their crew to endure the extended flight. Now, they flashed away on their separate missions, leaving the ten ships of the Shiravan Contact Fleet to make their way to human space.
Marcad Korvil listened to the summation of the report as it came from the captain of the Fist of Vengeance. “It is my conclusion, Lord, that this situation is different than most others we’ve encountered. If this is truly the home system of this new race, these Humanz, and if they truly took possession of a derelict ship, as has been surmised, then they’ve taken that technology in an altogether different direction than the Shiravi do when starting a colony world.”
Marcad had paced through the entire debriefing and now froze into the preternatural stillness that allowed a Korvil to become all but invisible to prey. “And how did you proceed?” he asked.
“Lord, I followed standard mission protocols all the way in. When we were first able to define their entire system, we stopped and scanned it in all bands. Two different types of transmissions were detected. One, a series of low frequency types, carried audio signals only, or visual data mixed with audio. This type was found to be coming exclusively from the third planet. The other type is what we find whenever we encounter the krath-Shiravi. It was found that this second type was coming from a variety of places throughout the system. We identified a hand, three of major sources and uncounted hands of minor targets.”
Marcad spoke as to a cub. “The norm is to set up a colony before building ships. Do you have any thoughts as to why it’s different in this case, Captain?”
Hesitating for a second, as though choosing his word carefully, the captain answered, “I turned my attention to the matter fully on the voyage back to Korvilene, Lord, and it is my opinion that these Humanz already have their power base, their homeworld. All they need to do is begin building a fleet.”
Marcad nodded. “War Minister Darmag and I are of the same mind. What did you do next?”
“Lord, the captain of Hunter’s Pride one-jumped into the system for a more definitive look. They attempted to coast through the system unpowered and under full stealth, recording all they could using passive scans only.”
“You said ‘attempted,’” Darmag said before his captain could continue. “Were you seen by the Humanz?”
“Until the Humanz attacked the Pride, War Minister, I would have said that we were not detected. We recorded signals being sent, but since we have no working knowledge of the language, we were unable to tell if any of it referred to us until the Humanz short-jumped within their own system. Pride made it halfway through the system. They were attacked and destroyed, along with any knowledge they may have gleaned.”
Darmag stood up. “Lord, it is my duty to tell you that I think we should attack these Humanz now, before they can build up any further. Only a hand of seasons have they had this ship, and look what they have done.”
“With packs of krath-Shiravi roaming our space, decimating entire clans, we now have the added insult of these puny Humanz destroying ships!” Marcad roared. “Now we must split our forces to prevent any further attempts by these upstarts to claim our rightful space. Until now, the Humanz had no certain knowledge of our existence and therefore no reason to expect attack from us. Now they are alerted, Captain! I detail you and your entire clan to watch these Humanz until such time as we are ready to act. My orders: assemble all ships except for those of Clan Prandalk into hunter packs. Most will begin harassing any krath-Shiravi they can find. This wil
l make the krath-Shiravi send out their ships to protect their worlds, tying down their ships defending against attacks that might or might not come. Take out all ships wherever they are found. Leave them with no way to attack Korvil worlds or ships. After our warriors have honed their skills against these krath-Shiravi, they can turn their attention to these Humanz.”
The hulking figure of the Korvil monarch loomed over the smaller captain. “The loss of any ship is of utmost concern to all Korvil. But to lose a hand two to the krath-Shiravi and now another to these Humanz is not to be tolerated. I give your life, Captain, because you bring the news of the loss and of the abilities of these new enemies. The fact that they are willing to one-jump inside their own system, shows their faith in their abilities, or a lack of fear for the consequences.” Marcad backed up a pace before continuing. “But you were in charge of this mission. On your head lies the responsibility for the loss of the Hunter’s Pride. For that, you and your entire clan will pay with your Honor. You will skulk like the vergas of the field, waiting for the leavings of the true predators. You will search out the weaknesses of these Humanz and report them to me.” Marcad paced back to his throne and sat, looking into the eyes of his subject. “Know, too, that I know these new enemies can detect our presence at a longer distance than the krath-Shiravi, so what other tricks do they have to surprise us with? Study well, Captain. Learn the weaknesses of your enemies, and you can defeat them.”
An exaggeratedly casual wave of one hand sent the hapless captain back to his clan, plans already floating through his mind to restore the Honor of his clan, even if it be at the cost of his own life. Some of those plans foundered when The Korvil added one final bit of news.
“I am putting at your disposal two transports. They will be loaded with sixty light attack craft, and you will launch them through the Humanz system on a slash-and-destroy mission when I send the word and not before. The transports will wait and depart the system just before the raiders show themselves. This should have the effect of siphoning off any defenders who might see the drive traces of the two transports. Two other transports will be waiting on the other side of the system to pick up any survivors of the three waves of ships that we will launch against these Humanz.”
Eventually, over a hundred raider ships formed into groups of five to ten and spread out through Shiravan space, looking for the less well-defended planets and lone ships ferrying supplies in one direction or the other, while the ten ships of Clan Prandalk, including Fist of Vengeance plus the four transports and their deadly cargo, headed to the refit yards to prepare for such an extended voyage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kitty messaged Simon with her suspicions concerning Lucy. Since Alliance scientists still hadn’t found a way around the light-speed limitation for messages, answers could take hours to arrive, depending on what the recipients were doing and where they happened to be in the solar system. In Simon’s case, he was beyond the orbit of Saturn aboard the new flagship Rigel, engaged in fleet exercises with the Asimov and the new fleet-carriers the Canopus and the Aldebaran.
Pulling himself away from a planning session with the newly promoted Captain Miranda Lee and several of the top Mamba pilots from both carriers, Simon opened the sealed communiqué in his quarters. After getting through the “missing you’s” and “I love you’s,” the main reason for the message became clear. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Simon,” the letter read, “but I have the distinct impression that Lucy is losing her ability to cope with situations as they present themselves. Ever since the destruction of the Clarke, she has become more distant and dictatorial. We all thought it was her way of coping right after the tragedy, but now it appears that she’s trying to deny or avoid troublesome issues. More and more over the past few months, I’ve found myself making the hard decisions while Lucy spends more time in isolation. I’ve spoken with Dr. Jeffers, and he suggested a few good psychiatrists. I confronted Lucy with my thoughts and observations, and she admitted she didn’t feel up to her job. While Gayle now seems to be able to cope with the losses she incurred, Lucy is still blaming herself as the person who ordered the action in the first place. ‘Morose and combative’ is the way one doctor described her.”
Simon scanned the rest of the message and then sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Raising his hands to his temples, he massaged them for a minute. Picking up a pen, he started to write. “I don’t know what I can do from out here, but it would seem that you have the situation under control. If Lucy needs time off or therapy, then see to it that she gets it. We’re coming along as well as can be expected out here. Fleet maneuvers are progressing satisfactorily, but the sheer number of ships is daunting as more arrive each day or so. As you know, we have one hundred Mambas on the two carriers, as well as ten each from the Rigel and the Asimov, plus each ship of the line and its Mambas as well. We’re looking at almost two hundred individual vessels at any one time.”
He sat back and looked at what he’d written. Steering his thoughts back to Kitty’s problem, he wrote, “Lucy has finally reached the dark side of command decisions. If she needs to be sidelined until she can get her head back on straight, then that’s what she’ll have to do. I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘Oh shit, that leaves me in charge!’ like it’s a bad thing, but trust me, honey, there’s no one I’d rather have calling the shots. Remember,” he added with a smile he hoped she would mirror, “I’m used to taking orders from you. Just keep me fed with updates and I’ll get my job done. I feel that our jobs are almost done out here anyway. The Alliance isn’t going to die out now. Somehow or other, no matter what happens to us, it will go on.” Adding a personal thought or two to the missive, Simon took it to the Rigel’s comm shack. “Send this out with the next packet, will you, Lieutenant?” he asked the comm officer behind the counter.
“Yes, sir, Admiral!” the young man responded. “I have a packet going out as soon as the results of today’s training exercises are posted. That should be about two or three hours.”
Kitty stood at the window of the newly built spaceport outside Zurich and watched as the shuttle carrying Lucy and her party took off. One of the harder decisions she’d to make of late, it was a group consensus that had sent Lucy off to Vesta for a period of working recuperation. Dr. Jeffers had suggested the name of a psychiatrist specializing in what most people would call nervous breakdowns, and Kitty had placed the call. Visions of a paper on space-related stress in his head, he’d jumped at the chance to work with Lucy. Kitty had informed him that the problem wasn’t space related, but he agreed anyway, hoping that once he was attached to the Alliance, he could find a way to stay attached. Private talks with Dr. Jeffers pointed to that exact scenario as the Alliance was still woefully short of trained medical professionals in all disciplines.
Two months of work with Lucy had convinced the psychiatrist, Dr. Mark Emmanuel, that she shouldn’t make a total break with the Alliance, so she’d been allowed to sign aboard the Vesta Project for an unspecified period of time. It had taken considerable thought among all parties concerned to come to this decision. Compromises had been made along the way that resulted in the Alliance getting its first fulltime psychiatrist, who held out for a position aboard the ship, taking Lucy and her party out to the asteroid belt. Dr. Emmanuel would have to find a replacement for himself before he’d be allowed to leave Lucy and start practicing aboard ships of the fleet.
Lucy’s party consisted of five people in all when it finally matched orbit with Vesta. Kitty, searching for a way to keep Lucy close to the Alliance, had finally called the Grimes family for assistance on the problem and came away with three new recruits—her brother, Bruce, and her two best friends, Carmen LeBoy and Amy Sparks. The three would act as anchors to reality for Lucy, along with her doctor, while the three newest recruits helped with the construction of the interior of the asteroid.
Kitty Hawke, now the Herald of the Terran Alliance and surrounded by her inevitable security detail, tur
ned away from the window that looked out onto the Zurich spaceport. Feeling like she’d lost an important part of herself, she turned to Commander Diana Ross, Aide to the Herald. “I know you’ve said that you have no problem with the changeover, Diana,” Kitty said as she paced slowly back to the parking facility. “I just want to ask again if you think you should’ve gone with Lucy or if you’d like to take a different assignment.”
“And I have to say again that I’m happy right where I am at the moment, Madam Herald,” Diana said slowly. “I just have a different boss. One, I might add, that I don’t have any problem working for. Not being an ass-kisser,” she added hastily. “It’s just that I’ve heard so much about you from Lucy and from a lot of other people as well, that I almost feel as if I know you. And it does help that we’ve met a time or two, you know.”
“Thanks, Diana,” Kitty said. “I’m going to need to lean on you for a lot of what goes on in the embassy until the facilities on Vesta make it possible for me to move our permanent headquarters there. Actually, I’ve been thinking of promoting you to Head of Embassy for some time now. You’ve been doing most of the work anyway, so you might as well get the recognition and rank.”
Kitty had self-consciously taken her seat at the head of the table for her first council meeting as herald, and during the meeting, she presented the motion that the heads of embassies be given the rank of captain. It had been debated and passed, with the result that now, with eighteen active ships, including the Galileo, there were twenty-five captains, some of whom did double-duty by filling cabinet positions in the Alliance government.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR