Shadow of Saganami

by David Weber

  The "flag deck" hatch opened, and he glanced over his shoulder as Levakonic came hurrying in, skinsuited like the admiral himself. Technically, the civilian had no business here, but Hegedusic wasn't about to choke on any rules that required him to order a possible source of advice and information off of his command deck.

  "No communication from them yet?" Levakonic asked tautly.

  "No," Hegedusic replied, "and we've been hailing them for almost ten minutes now. I wonder if they're just going to close to attack range and blow us away without even identifying themselves." Levakonic looked sideways at him, and the admiral shrugged. "Think about it. If they blow the entire Station to bits and then just haul ass out of here without ever claiming responsibility, it'd be our word against theirs if we tried to convince anyone else of what happened."

  "They might do that," Levakonic said, setting his helmet down on the seat of an unoccupied bridge chair. His skinsuit was a civilian model, but it was also much better and more capable than Hegedusic's.

  "They might," the Solly repeated, "but if they were going to do that, they wouldn't have to come in on us at all. If our reports about how they're pulling off their range increases are correct, they've actually built multiple drive systems into a single missile body."

  "What?" Hegedusic looked at him in astonishment, and Levakonic chuckled harshly.

  "I know. They have to've developed an entire new generation of superdense fusion bottles, or something of the sort, to pull that off. We know they're fiendishly good at engineering components down, but there are practical limits. Their initial long-range missiles were apparently a lot bigger than their current-generation birds, so they probably went with improved capacitors on those. Hell, you've seen our latest-generation birds, and you know how big they are. Well, they still have single-drive systems that just happen to last a little longer before burnout; all the rest of the volume's for the juice they need to take advantage of their drive endurance.

  "If our reports from Haven are right, the Peeps are still using stored energy for their birds. It's hurting them in areas like magazine capacity, compared to the Manties, and apparently they only managed that much because they were able to reverse engineer the Manties' late-generation capacitors.

  "Of course," his smile was vinegar-tart, "all we have since Pierre and Saint-Just got bumped off are rumors and third-party reports. Their new management doesn't seem to like us very much. Which is partly our fault, of course." He grimaced. "They didn't have many samples of the Manties' current hardware after the cease-fire, and we weren't particularly interested in helping them out with their own development programs once the reports on Manty hardware started drying up. They, ah, seem to have long memories out there, and once Erewhon went over to their side with actual working examples of Manty technology, their R and D people pretty much told us to take a hike. So our latest first-hand reports are five T-years out of date, and it's possible all of this is inaccurate as hell.

  "But if it isn't, then the Manties are building much smaller long-range missiles than they were. That means they have to've found a better solution than simply using bigger and better superconductor rings. If they're going to cram two—or even three, according to some rumors—complete drive packages into missiles the size of the ones they're supposed to be deploying, they can't have the internal volume to use straight superconductor storage to power the damned things."

  "I imagine not," Hegedusic agreed. "But could anybody really build a fusion plant that small?"

  "It's theoretically possible. With a powerful enough grav field to do the pinching, it could be done. But the initial power would have to come from a source external to the missile, which would probably mean some tricky modification of the launchers, as well. Anyway," he shook his head, brushing away the speculation, "the point I was going to make is that they have an effectively unlimited powered attack range. They could fire the damned things from five or six light-hours out, accelerate the bastards up to speed, and then program the second stage drive not to kick in until the birds entered attack range of their targets. If they didn't punch the max velocity too high, they wouldn't suffer significant -particle-erosion degradation of their onboard sensor systems during even a very long ballistic flight component."

  "Jesus Christ," Hegedusic whispered, and Levakonic snorted.

  "No, just damned good engineers," he said sardonically. "And before you get your knickers in as big a twist as I did the first time I heard about them, remember this. A missile's only as good as its fire control, and not even Manties can generate good targeting solutions and handle mid-course corrections from half a solar system away. At the moment, they've got a lot more effective range than they can use, and even if they've been able to squeeze their birds down the way some of our sources report they have, they're paying for it with missles which are significantly larger than ours are. That means lower total numbers of birds in the same magazine space, so it's unlikely they'd fire off the thousands of the things it would require to score a significant number of hits at that sort of range in a fleet action.

  "But your shipyard here's another kettle of fish. It can't dodge, and it doesn't have sidewalls. So if all they wanted to do was wreck Eroica Station, they could just fire off a saturation salvo of old-fashioned contact nukes to come whipping in here at seventy-five or eighty percent of light-speed. There's no way you could stop enough of them, especially if they seeded the attack wave with their new penetration aids, and they wouldn't really even have to cross the hyper limit to do it."

  "But we don't know they are crossing the limit," Hegedusic pointed out.

  "I think they are," Levakonic said grimly. The Monican looked a question at him, and he shrugged. "I think that big bastard is a freighter, Isidor—probably an ammunition ship. They won't want to bring her in where anything nasty could happen to her, so they're decelerating to stay with her while they load up with towed pods. Once they have, she'll stay out beyond the limit, and they'll come on in."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "I'm not sure. But they could fire the pods from out there, if they wanted to, and if that is an ammo ship, who the hell cares about onboard magazine space? They've got missiles to burn. They could accept poor targeting solutions if they wanted to this time, so if they're planning on coming on in to a point where they can get better ones, that suggests to me that they want to be sure they hit what they're aiming at rather than simply smashing the entire Station. Which also suggests they'll at least want to talk to you before they kill you, even if they haven't done it yet. And also lends a little extra point to the minor question of just where Commodore Horster is right now."

  * * *

  "All ships report acquisition of all pods, Sir," Nagchaudhuri said.

  "Very well. My compliments to Commander Badmachin for a well executed evolution. Remind her to keep an eye on her sensor platforms. If anyone comes at her, we'll meet her at the primary rendezvous."

  "Aye, aye, Sir."

  "Commander Wright."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Resume acceleration and put us on profile for Eroica Station."

  * * *

  "You're right, Izrok; they're coming on in," Hegedusic said. "Which means you've also got a point about Horster." He turned to the communications section again. "Lieutenant!"

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "I want a directional broadcast away from these people. Get hold of Captain Simons in CIC. Ask him to define the volumes where Commodore Horster's units are most likely to be and then sweep all of them you can without giving these people anything to pick up. Got it?"

  "Yes, Sir!"

  "Good. Address it to CO First Division and prepare to record."

  "Yes, Sir. Ready to record, Sir."

  "Very good. Message begins. 'Janko, unknown but presumably hostile units are approaching Eroica Station. My assumption is that they're here to destroy or take possession of the new units, and I don't expect them to rely solely on sweet reason. I know you're out there somewhere. If you'r
e placed to intervene, this would probably be a good time for a live-fire training exercise. I'll stall as long as I can, but if they're who I think they are, there may not be a lot I can do. Remember the Manties' range advantage. If this is a Manticoran squadron, the trick'll be to get into range of them without getting yourself destroyed in the process. If you receive this message and can confirm without revealing your presence to the enemy, do so. If you can't intervene, notify me, regardless of whether or not they can detect your signal. Otherwise, maintain com silence and maneuver at your discretion. Good luck. I think we'll both need it. Isidor, clear and out.'"

  He watched the communications officer play the recording back through his earbug. Then the lieutenant nodded.

  "Clean recording, Sir."

  "Very good. Check with CIC and be sure we append all available tactical information."

  "Yes, Sir."

  * * *

  "Skipper, we're coming up on your specified mark," Lieutenant Commander Nagchaudhuri said.

  Terekhov glanced at Van Dort, who looked back expressionlessly. There wasn't anything to be said, really, and both of them knew it. This was the entire reason they'd come.

  "Very well, Amal. Live mike."

  "Aye, aye, Sir."

  * * *

  "—Terekhov, Royal Manticoran Navy. I require you to immediately cease all work on all starships currently undergoing refit, and to evacuate all personnel from the military components of Eroica Station. I have no desire to fire on you or your personnel. My sole concern at this time is to ensure that none of those units enter the service of the Republic of Monica until such time as my government receives satisfactory assurances about the purposes for which you intend to employ them. If, however, my instructions to stand down and evacuate are not obeyed, I will fire upon you and destroy those ships. I hereby formally advise you that I am capable of carrying out that bombardment from beyond the effective range of any of Eroica Station's own weapons. You cannot prevent me from destroying those vessels at my convenience, and so I urge you most earnestly to begin evacuation immediately. You have one hour to comply. Terekhov, clear."

  Isidor Hegedusic glared at the implacable face of the tall, bearded, fair-haired, blue-eyed man in the white beret and space-black-and-gold uniform. The message lag was only a very little over ninety seconds, and he stamped on his anger hard. At this close a range, he had time to be sure he had a grip on his temper before he responded to the Manticoran's arrogant demand.

  "Record for transmission," he said to the pale-faced communications officer after perhaps ten seconds.

  "Yes, Sir. Recording . . . now."

  "Captain Terekhov," Hegedusic said in a hard, flat voice, "I am Admiral Isidor Hegedusic, Republic of Monica System Navy. What conceivable interpretation of interstellar law gives you the right to sail into my star system and threaten to destroy units of the Monican Navy? Hegedusic, clear."

  "Got it, Sir," the lieutenant confirmed.

  "Then send it."

  The lieutenant obeyed. One hundred and eighty-three seconds later, Terekhov's response came in.

  "Admiral Hegedusic, I regret the circumstances which compel me to make such demands, but the 'law' which justifies them is the acknowledged right of any star nation to act in self-defense. We have compelling evidence that the ships being refitted in this system for your Navy are intended for employment against the Star Kingdom and our allies in the Talbott Cluster. I will not permit that. If our information proves to be in error, we will withdraw, and I have no doubt my Star Kingdom will apologize and make suitable restitution. In the meantime, however, I must again insist you obey my instructions. I assure you, however deeply I may regret the inevitable collateral loss of life, I won't hesitate to destroy those vessels if you don't stand down and evacuate within the time limit I've specified. Terekhov, clear."

  "Live mike, Lieutenant!" Hegedusic snapped.

  "Yes, Sir. Your microphone is live," the lieutenant said, and Hegedusic faced the pickup once again.

  "What you're demanding is impossible, Captain," he said harshly. "Even if I were inclined to be dictated to, which I am not, I couldn't possibly contact my government and receive authorization in the time limit you've imposed. Minimum message turnaround between here and the system government is over eighty-three minutes. I assure you messages will be sent immediately, relaying your insulting and arrogant demand and requesting instructions, but I cannot hear back from my government in less than an hour and twenty minutes. Hegedusic, clear."

  "I understand your communication problems, Admiral," Terekhov said after the inevitable delay. "Nonetheless, my time limit stands. It isn't negotiable. Terekhov, clear."

  "I don't have the authority to give such orders, Captain! I would be . . . strongly disinclined to do so in any case, but as the situation stands, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Hegedusic, clear."

  "Admiral, you're a naval officer. As such, you know there are times to observe the legal niceties, and times that isn't possible. This is one of the latter. You may not have the legal authority to evacuate your post, but you do have the de facto authority. And you also have the responsibility to preserve the lives of your personnel in a situation in which you literally cannot fight back. I urge you to consider whether your moral responsibility lies in slavish obedience to the law, or in ensuring your people don't die pointlessly. Terekhov, clear."

  "If we're going to speak about moral responsibilities, Captain, what about your responsibility not to slaughter people who, by your own statement, can't even threaten your own command, simply because their oaths to their own government require them to remain at their posts until legally relieved by competent authority? Hegedusic, clear."

  "You have a point, Admiral," Terekhov conceded. "However, my own duty leaves me no alternative. And honesty compels me to add that neither I nor any other Manticoran officer have conspired with genetic slavers, pirates, terrorists, and mass murderers to commit acts of war on the sovereign territories of at least two independent star nations. Your government has done precisely that. My responsibility to see to it that those unprovoked and murderous assaults end now overrides any responsibility I may have towards your personnel. And I would further add, Sir, that I'm already holding my fire when you're well within my effective range specifically in order to avoid any unnecessary loss of life. That is the only concession I am prepared or able to make. So, I repeat, I require your immediate stand-down and evacuation. You now have fifty-one minutes to comply. Terekhov, clear and out."

  The com screen went blank, and when Hegedusic looked at Levakonic, he saw his own amazement in the Solarian's face. How? How could the Manties have figured out what was happening? And what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

  * * *

  "Approaching turnover in seven minutes, Sir," Tobias Wright said, and Terekhov nodded.

  Some of the sensor remotes speeding out in front of the Squadron had peeled off to put Eroica Station under close-range observation. Hexapuma and her consorts had been accelerating in-system for over seventeen minutes. Their initial velocity had dropped to just over 2,175 KPS before they parted company from Volcano, but in another seven minutes, they would reach their peak velocity of 7,190 KPS and begin the thirty-four minutes and fifty-nine seconds of deceleration which would bring them to rest relative to Eroica Station at a range of eight million kilometers.

  Admiral Hegedusic had forty-three minutes to begin -evacuating.

  "Do you think he's going to give in, Skipper?" Ansten FitzGerald asked quietly from the small com screen beside Terekhov's knee.

  "I don't know. I hope so."

  "He didn't sound very happy about the notion, Sir," FitzGerald observed, and Terekhov surprised himself with a short, sharp laugh.

  "You've been practicing understatement with Ms. Zilwicki again, haven't you, Ansten?" he said, then shrugged. "I expected a lot of what he said. Usually, you don't get to be an admiral if you make a habit of caving in easily. And those ships have to represent a dream come tru
e for any admiral in any Verge navy. Not to mention the fact that the Monican government probably has a nasty habit of shooting people it considers guilty of cowardice. He's almost got to stall as long as he can."

  "What if he comes back at the last minute with an offer to comply, Captain?" Van Dort asked, careful to observe the military proprieties under the current circumstances.

  "If it's accompanied by an immediate start to the evacuation, I'll grant him an extension. If it isn't, I'll open fire."

  Van Dort nodded slowly, and there was a different look in his eyes as he gazed at Terekhov and saw a side of him he hadn't previously met. He'd never made the mistake of imagining -Terekhov would flinch from any duty, however grim. But until this moment, he'd never truly realized just how dangerous a killer lurked inside his friend.

  But Ansten FitzGerald wasn't surprised. He remembered the Nuncio System.

  * * *

  "Sir! Sir, the Manties have just made turnover!"

  Hegedusic's head came up, and he strode quickly over to the officer who had spoken. He leaned over the lieutenant's shoulder, studying his plot.

  "Where's his zero-velocity point at current deceleration?"

  "Approximately eight million kilometers out, Admiral."

  "Oh, is it now?" Hegedusic murmured in a soft, hungry tone, and turned to look at Levakonic. The Technodyne executive looked tense and unhappy, but as he met Hegedusic's eyes, they both smiled slowly.

  * * *

  Abigail Hearns rested her forearms lightly on the arms of her command chair. She could feel Helen's tension beside her, ratcheting steadily higher as the Squadron decelerated towards its attack position. She remembered the question Ragnhild had asked after their firing pass on Bogey Three at Nuncio, the question about how many people they'd just killed, and knew the same thoughts were passing through her surviving midshipwoman's mind at this moment.