Action Stations w-6

by William R Fortchen

  "Its disgusting," Geoff whispered.

  Turner laughed. "We've known about the existence of the Cats for a little over five years and had no official contact. But out here, beyond the edge, it seems like there's been a hell of a lot of contact. Sometimes I think we should let those out beyond the frontiers do the foreign policy, and have the inner world bureaucrats just stay the hell out of the way."

  "How come we haven't infiltrated this earlier?" Geoff asked, stepping to one side as a towering Wu, obviously very drunk and in danger of regurgitating several dozen kilos worth of lunch, lurched past them, bellowing out a raucous song.

  Turner chuckled. "Not proper and, hell, it most likely didn't even exist six months ago. Besides, beyond this point, no one's gone and come back. These Cats are outlaws in the old sense of the word, outside of their clan laws, dishonored, most likely facing death if they ever tried to return, for some offense or other. Same for a lot of our human compatriots, like our friend Hans. Most likely the Empire tolerates this place as a conduit for their own information gathering as well, but beyond here, its steel door is slammed shut."

  "This is the gray region between Empires, Geoff, enjoy it."

  He slowed for a moment by a weapons booth as Hans paused to look in. "So that's where he got the nuke mine," Hans muttered and then pressed on.

  "I want you to stick with me for a while," Winston said, "till you get your feet wet."

  Geoff felt a sense of relief. Unless he was directly ordered to, he planned to stick to Winston's side like glue. The old prof had shown a very different side back at the Hell Hole, and in this place he knew those talents were definitely worth staying close to.

  "But after that, Geoff, I'm cutting you loose. Fill your pocket with some change, buy some drinks, hell, you can even go in one of those houses if you want. No telling what some of the girls in there might have heard."

  Geoff shuddered at the thought. What would he ever say to Rebecca if she found out about that? She was, after all, from a very proper British family, with all the right pedigrees. In a certain sense it was an arranged situation between their families, but he could not help but admit that there was a growing attachment there as well. And besides, there was no telling what strange things one might pick up out here, and the Black Rot was definitely an unpleasant way to go.

  A wild howling of cheers erupted further down the corridor. The crowd they were wading through started to surge towards the noise and Geoff was dragged along with them. A small amphitheater opened up before him, filled to overflowing with a hysterical, cheering mob. Down in the center of the theater was a fighting pit. Two humans and a Kilrathi were warily circling each other, with a dead Kilrathi lying in the corner in a pool of blood.

  Confused, Geoff watched the fight, a Varni beside him booming a thunderous roar of delight as the Kilrathi flung his blade, catching one of the men in the throat. Before the surviving human could close in, the Kilrathi ducked past his blow, scooped up the fallen man's blade and turned to parry.

  "You cheering for the Cat?" Geoff asked, looking over in surprise at the Varni.

  "Fifty credits on him."

  "What the hell is this?"

  "Grudge pit! Cats claimed the humans had robbed them. So Gar arranged a public fight rather than them settling in private. Gar cleans up on bets, winner gets losers ship. Everybody's happy."

  Geoff could only shake his head in disbelief that a Varni would cheer for a Cat. He looked back over at Turner, surprised to see the professor buying a bet ticket. Winston caught his eye.

  "When in Rome…" he said, and shrugged his shoulders.

  Geoff caught Vance's eye and could see the confusion in the lieutenants gaze. He moved up to Vance's side.

  "This place is bedlam," Geoff shouted, trying to be heard above the hysterical roar of the crowd as the human darted in and sliced open the Cat's arm just below his right elbow. The Cat quickly shifted his blade to his other hand, snarling with pain and anger.

  "Did you ever think that this whole mission is nuts?" Geoff asked.

  "From the very beginning, Geoff, from the very damn beginning."

  Geoff looked back around at the howling crowd. Of all the places in the universe, this was the last place he figured to find a clue about the intentions of the Empire.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kilrah.Confederation date 2634.195

  "My father, all is in readiness."

  The Crown Prince waited with bent knee as the Emperor slowly came into the room. Even though they were alone, certain ceremonies had to be observed. The Emperor, noisily exhaling from the effort his battered body made, settled down on the dais in the middle of the room and motioned for Gilkarg to come forward and sit by his side.

  "I saw the reports of the latest maneuvers," the Emperor stated, pressing right to the point. "It is not adequate according to your plan."

  He held up an old style printed report, and tossed the pages at Gilkarg's feet.

  "The torpedoes are failing at an alarming rate. Both the simulations and the maneuvers indicate that you will lose close to half of your best pilots in the first strike. Such losses can not be quickly replaced."

  Gilkarg wanted to counter that it was by the Emperors own design that the training of Kilrathi pilots as carrier pilots was far too exacting. Less than a hundred new pilots qualified each year, out of entry classes of five hundred or more. Half died in training, and of the survivors, most were disqualified, often for the most mundane of reasons. The Emperor argued that this created a spirit and also an elite force that the Confederation could never match. Though he could see his father's point, he still believed that to have more pilots in reserve would have been the wiser course. Now the potential losses were being presented as an argument against the strike.

  "You've been talking with Nargth, haven't you, my father?"

  "He still believes the capital ships should jump first. You can have your bomber strike, the carriers can jump right after the battleships. It will mean a delay of only twenty minutes."

  "Each minute is crucial. It must go according to plan."

  The Emperor stared straight at him and Gilkarg could sense that an order, which could not be disobeyed, was about to be issued.

  "Half then." He sighed. "Two carriers, then three battleships, followed by the remaining carriers. Is that acceptable?"

  The Emperor contemplated the offer for a moment, then nodded.

  "The torpedoes. What about them?"

  "We should have enough, even with the malfunctions."

  "Should not an autodestruct mechanism be put on them, so that if they fail to detonate they will be destroyed anyhow? Suppose the enemy manages to capture one?"

  "No for two reasons, my father. First, the modification would delay construction. We depart in three days; to change plans now might mean we would not have enough. Also, such a modification has not been tested. The other concern is that the enemy might be able to trigger the self-destruct mechanism. If they could figure that out in the opening moves of the battle, the result would be a disaster. I assure you, by the time we are done with McAuliffe, not a single Confed ship will be left, therefore there is no reason to worry."

  "Let us hope so. And our target, will it be there when you arrive?"

  "My father, that is precisely why we are offering almost no resistance to their declaration of war. We've lost half a dozen bases and four systems, but they've only seen our most antiquated systems. Their main fleet at McAuliffe has not sortied. The fools are now overconfident. This declaration of war by them has, if anything, played straight into our hands by lulling them into a belief that we are weak."

  "Are you still confident of victory, my son?"

  "As certain as you were when you led the attack against the Varni."

  The Emperor snorted with disdain. Leaning over, he slowly rubbed his right knee. Most of the leg was artificial, the leg having been shattered by a suicidal Varni attack on the flagship of the fleet.

  "We underestimated them
," he said softly. "Oh, we knew we could win, but they fought better than expected, almost worthy of being considered chakta." Chakta were those rare warriors of equal rank who deserved honorable execution upon capture rather than slavery.

  The Emperor hesitated. "I think your plan to drive straight in to Earth after taking McAuliffe is dangerous."

  "We must close and win."

  "Better to sweep up the outer worlds first, to push the border back. The resources are rich, there are billions of slaves to take. Garner those things in and Earth will die on the vine. If you should press the attack though, and if the combined fleet is lost, we lose everything. Granted, the First Fleet will protect us, but they will push us back."

  Gilkarg dared to utter a growl of disagreement.

  "Plunge the dagger into their heart," he snapped. "The taking of all the outer worlds is meaningless. Cut out the heart, then we can turn back and take the rest at leisure."

  "There is still time to decide this," the Emperor replied. "After you destroy McAuliffe we can consider the next step."

  "My father. I have worked on this plan ever since our discovery of the Confederation. Every consideration has been evaluated. They are bigger than us, perhaps stronger. We must stun them to their knees by the Jak-tu, then move to cut their throats before they can recover."

  "Taking the outer worlds of their system will do the same thing."

  "But the inner worlds will survive and will fight on."

  "You want all of it at once, and thereby risk all."

  The Crown Prince looked at his father in surprise. He was getting too old, too cautious. Granted, the age brought cunning, but it also brought slowness, the unwillingness to risk all with a single strike.

  "But as I said," the Emperor continued, "that can be considered after McAuliffe."

  Knowing that it was useless to press the issue now, Gilkarg lowered his head in agreement.

  "There is a final concern."

  "And that is?"

  "It's possible they might discover our intentions."

  "How?" The Crown Prince stirred nervously. Everything was based upon surprise, everything.

  "Some of the spies that we've placed beyond our frontier have reported a rumor that their Confederation has successfully infiltrated into one of our systems."

  "Absurd. They've tried repeatedly and failed."

  "The report says that this one might be different. He once commanded a secret combat team that reported strictly to the military commander and no other. He is supposedly the closest friend of their military commander, a trusted confidant. This man, along with a young pilot who had insulted the senator disappeared out of the Landreich, and are believed to be inside our space. This was stated directly by one of the senator's aides to a paid informant we have managed to slip into their space with the Varni refugees. It is reported that this man is the closest friend of the Admiral of their Fleet. That information leads me to believe the report might be accurate."

  Gilkarg stood silent. Interesting. The Varni spy was reliable. He knew: one false report and his entire family, held captive in the lower reaches of the Imperial Palace, was dead.

  He had seen the reports on the human who could be considered his counterpart. The man was without a single drop of what humans would define as noble blood. And still they had made him their commander… such a move was yet another sign of their decadence. Yet he was reported to have remarkable intelligence, which was well hidden beneath his ill-bred exterior.

  Could he have sent his friend into the border region to look for information? Granted, there would be nothing direct. The fleets were being held well back of the line, though the Sixth Fleet of the Claw was departing even now, since it had the furthest to go, in order to line up on the flank of the region the humans called the Landreich. Was there a chance this human could stumble on that? And even if he didn't, rumors were beginning to sweep the Empire. Every member of the fleet had been placed on active status, reserves who were retired out of active service in their fortieth year were being recalled. Commercial shipping was nearly at a standstill as every available craft was pressed into service to provide support and supplies for the attack. That, in and of itself, was the one weak point of his plan. Though he had pressed for the construction of a thousand transports whose sole purpose was military support, none had ever been constructed. Already there was signs of economic disruption as certain crucial goods were no longer being moved between worlds. The cover regarding the war being fought in the Facin Sector would only hold up for so long before it was realized just how little was actually being committed to it.

  He knew, as well, that rumors would circulate. Only this morning he had ordered the execution of the commander of a frigate. The fool had bedded a courtesan the night before and boasted to her of the blood he would draw when the attack on McAuliffe started. The courtesan worked for his own security team and had been placed into service to uncover loose tongues. Notice of the dishonor and execution had been posted to the fleet as a warning about such stupidity. This commander was now the fourth to die for such foolishness, and he wondered how many boasted and were never caught.

  He felt a cool ripple of warning.

  "We will track these humans down and tear the flesh from their bones. After the first battle I shall make sure their skulls are sent back to their commander," Gilkarg hissed. Like all Kilrathi, he had a deep loathing for spies and those who lurked and fought from the shadows. Even those who worked for his side were beings barely worthy of his notice and were treated accordingly.

  The Emperor sighed and slowly stood up.

  "I will not see you again, my son. Bring us victory. This shall be the greatest war yet fought by us. If victorious, your name will shine brighter then mine. But if you fail…"

  The Crown Prince stood and bowed low as his father started for the door.

  "I know your son, Prince Ratha, needs blooding. But do not place him at too great a risk. For after all, if something should happen to you, he will be needed and your youngest cub, Thrakhath, has yet to reach his majority…"

  Without another word the Emperor disappeared through the door, leaving Gilkarg to wonder just what was meant by his fathers closing words.

  Earth-Con Fed Fleet HQ Confederation date 2634.203

  "Glad to see you, Joshua. Grab some coffee and take a seat."

  Admiral Banbridge stepped around from behind his desk and refilled his own mug of coffee before settling down in a comfortable leather chair across from Joshua Speedwell, head of Fleet Intel.

  "Anything new to report today?"

  "Gamma Three in Facin fell this morning."

  "And?"

  "Not much of a fight. One frigate moderately damaged, six fighters and bombers lost. About one hundred marines killed or wounded. We got a destroyer and two transports. As usual, no prisoners, and the base was destroyed by autodestruct. That's where we lost most of our marines, the whole place was mined."

  "When are they going to turn and fight?" Banbridge asked.

  Speedwell shook his head. "Goes entirely against the grain of what little we know. Maybe it's because they don't define Facin as home territory. Maybe some of the stuff about internal rivalries within the Empire are true and they're leaving the clan that owns Facin to hold the bag."

  "And your gut feeling?"

  "We're getting sucked in."

  Banbridge took another sip of his coffee. The meeting with the president and the Senate Committee on the Conduct of the War had been frustrating. They only heard what they wanted, and to them it was all good news. Nearly bloodless victories, the Kilrathi proving to be a paper dragon, and no need to mobilize the fleet and the reserves before the holidays and, more importantly, just before an election.

  "Nothing to sink our teeth into," Joshua replied. "You saw my report on what happened to the Beta team?"

  Skip nodded and sighed. Of course their deaths would be listed as a training accident, bodies unrecoverable. They'd been nailed trying to slip into Kilrathi spa
ce near the Ingraya system in order to set up a listening post.

  "That's the third team in as many months," Joshua said bitterly, looking into his mug of coffee. "One of them is Akiko Kurosawas daughter, captain of Gibraltar. We've lost thirty good men and women for nothing."

  "Why? Why are we getting hammered on covert intel?"

  "Like I said in my report several months ago, the Cats have sealed the border up as tight as a drum. They used to turn a bit of a blind eye to illegal trade. Hell, it profited both sides, and it gave them a chance to slip their intel people across as well. What I shudder to think about is just how many listening posts they've most likely got stashed inside our territory. We just nailed another one yesterday, near the Nanking Sector."

  "Any prisoners?"

  Joshua shook his head. "No, the usual. One of my counter intel teams acquired its burst signal, traced it in, and as they closed the Cats self-destructed."

  "We've been fighting an unknown war for weeks now," Skip said quietly, while getting out of his chair to get something a little stronger to put in his coffee. He looked over at Joshua, who shook his head at the offer of some Scotch.

  "Are you going to break this to the Armed Services and Intelligence Committees?"

  Skip shook his head. "I've told the president as required by law and that's it."

  "And his response?"

  Skip snorted disdainfully. "He's a politician facing re-election. The Peace and Prosperity Coalition is closing in on winning a majority. If they do, he's out and More takes over. If he goes public with what you and I suspect, the other side will accuse us of saber rattling to panic the voters because we're afraid of more appropriations cuts. More's got us over a barrel. And damn it, there's no good clear evidence. Just what the hell are we supposed to do, stand up and announce we've lost close to a hundred marines and special ops personnel in operations that we were running before war was officially declared? Damn, I'm surprised the Cats haven't gone public with our attempts, that'd really put you and me in the wringer."