Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  She sat on the bridge, watching as Captain Karin Hughes issued a quiet stream of orders to her crew. Sneaky was tiny, barely larger than a corvette. And yet, she was almost completely undetectable even without the cloak. The Commonwealth Navy had designed her for sneaking into enemy-held star systems, reasoning that long-range active and passive sensors were likely to keep improving. Mandy couldn't help feeling that the designers had been quite right. Titlark didn't seem to be on alert, but ...

  Three battle squadrons and flankers, she thought. The enemy ships showed up clearly on the display. They weren't even trying to hide. They’re clearly doing some reconsolidation.

  She sucked in her breath as she studied the two enemy battleships. The Imperial Navy had designed them to be indestructible, lining their hulls with heavy armour and cramming hundreds of missile tubes into their bulk, although she knew from experience that they could be beaten. Admiral Singh had probably made sure they were refitted with the latest sensors, too. The Imperial Navy had skimped on refitting its ships, but they hadn’t had to fight a major war. Mandy knew from bitter experience that not refitting ships when there was a war on was asking for trouble.

  Beyond them, there were a handful of new-build heavy cruisers and battlecruisers. Mandy studied them with interest, wondering just what Wolfbane’s designers had invented. The Commonwealth Navy had come up with all sorts of ideas, although they hadn't had the time or resources to turn them all into reality. She couldn't help thinking that the heavy cruisers looked larger than they should be, while the battlecruisers were smaller. Perhaps it was a good sign.

  “The base itself has expanded,” the sensor officer said.

  Mandy nodded in grim agreement. The original settlements had been nothing more than asteroids, inhabited by cultists. They’d probably been unceremoniously evicted by the Wolves when they arrived. Now, the asteroids had been turned into space docks and storage depots - there were even a pair of shipyard slips, probably intended to allow repair crews to work on damaged starships. She made a mental note to mark them out for special attention, if they had to fall back and abandon the system. The repair crews were worth their weight in whatever precious metal one cared to name.

  She shuddered. How far had they fallen, she asked herself, when she was calmly contemplating the slaughter of defenceless men? She’d had to do bad things - evil things, perhaps - when she’d been a pirate slave, but now ... now she shouldn't have to make those decisions. And yet, cold logic told her that slaughtering the repair crews would only help the Commonwealth. It was her duty.

  It was her duty ... and she hated the very idea of it.

  “Captain, I’m picking up a flight of shuttles heading to the nearest comet,” the sensor officer added. “They’ll pass along our flight path in twenty minutes.”

  “Give them a wide berth,” Captain Hughes ordered. “And prepare to cut power and go doggo.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Mandy tensed. The shuttles weren't going to be that close to them, but their presence was alarming. Had they been detected? Were the enemy trying to get a lock on them? Or was it just a coincidence? Sneaky was very sneaky. The enemy would have to get incredibly lucky to detect her, as long as the crew were careful.

  They could have another cloaked ship shadowing us, she thought. Sneaky hadn't detected anything following her, but that meant nothing. We can't use our active sensors without being detected.

  She braced herself as the shuttles flew closer .... and then flashed onwards, heading directly to the comet. A coincidence then ... she hoped. The comet did contain a lot of raw materials, materials the Wolves would need if they wanted to keep the system running. Mining it did make sense. And yet ...

  “Take us towards the base,” Captain Hughes ordered.

  Mandy glanced at her. Captain Hughes seemed unflappable. Mandy was impressed, even though she knew the odds of being detected were very low. The bridge crew spoke in whispers, the slightest sound made everyone jump ... as if the noise could somehow echo across the vacuum and alert the enemy. And yet, Captain Hughes remained calm. She didn't look as though anything worried her.

  She turned her attention back to the display as Titlark Base grew closer. It was surrounded by a network of defensive stations and automated weapons platforms, although nowhere near as many as she’d expected. But then, Titlark wasn't a planet. Mandy rather suspected that the Wolves had seen it as nothing more than a temporary base, never intending to turn it into a permanent headquarters. It had grown as the war stalled, more and more ships being funnelled through the base instead of making their way directly to more habitable star systems. She had no doubt that the Wolves found that irritating ...

  “Commodore,” Captain Hughes said, quietly. “We probably can't go any closer.”

  “Very good,” Mandy said. She had to remind herself not to whisper. The enemy couldn't hear them. “We have enough data, I think.”

  Captain Hughes showed no reaction. “Then we can alter course and sneak out of the system,” she said. “I dare say we’ll be back with the fleet in three hours.”

  Mandy nodded. “See to it,” she ordered. She picked up her datapad. “I’ll start reviewing the data now.”

  She forced herself to relax as Captain Hughes started issuing orders to her crew. They’d sneaked into the system and collected the data they needed ... she could relax, now. The data in front of her was everything she needed to plan an offensive, trapping the enemy ships against the base. They’d have to decide between fighting - and being smashed - or retreating, leaving her to ravage the base at leisure. She hoped the enemy commander would have the sense to surrender, when he saw her fleet bearing down on him.

  I don’t want to kill thousands of men because they can't be allowed to live, she thought, grimly. Or because their commander is too foolish to surrender.

  She sighed. It wouldn't be long now.

  ***

  “Only three battle squadrons,” Ed mused, as he studied the report. “They’re badly outgunned.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mandy said. She looked tired. Ed hoped she’d managed to catch a nap on Sneaky as she inched her way out of the system. “We should have a two-to-one advantage in both numbers and firepower. More, perhaps, if they don’t have any new weapons.”

  Ed nodded. Titlark wasn't a shipyard or a major industrial node, but taking the base out would hurt the Wolves. At the very least, they’d have to slow their planned counteroffensive while they struggled to compensate for its loss. The ships were more important - they’d be hard to replace within the year - but he doubted the enemy commander would stick around for the fight. Unless he thought Admiral Singh would shoot him for cowardice in the face of the enemy ...

  “We’ll leave the troopships here,” Mandy added. “I’ll take the battle squadrons into the system and engage the enemy. If we’re lucky, we can sneak up to their defences while cloaked and open fire from point-blank range.”

  “Do your best,” Ed said. Ninety-seven starships, even cloaked, would generate a lot of turbulence. The odds were against escaping detection indefinitely, particularly as they got close to the base. “And watch for unpleasant surprises.”

  “We will,” Mandy assured him. She rubbed her forehead. “They’re clearly not expecting an attack.”

  Ed shrugged. No military force could remain on alert forever, no matter what politicians thought, but Admiral Singh would have trained her people to react to sudden attacks. He’d had the same training drummed into his head at Boot Camp. They’d know what to do ... he hoped Mandy could trap the enemy ships, but he knew better than to count on it. War was a democracy, after all. The enemy got a vote.

  “Don’t take it for granted,” he warned. “They’ll have contingency plans.”

  Mandy glanced at her wristcom. “We’ll bring the fleet to full alert now, then move out in thirty minutes,” she said. Her fingers tapped a command into the wristcom. A moment later, sirens began howling. “Will that be suitable?”

  “It wil
l do,” Ed said. He met her eyes for a long moment. “I’ll watch from the CIC.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mandy said. She showed a flicker of amusement. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

  She saluted, then turned and left the room. Ed shook his head, wonderingly. She was so bloody young. Or at least she looked young. Mandy was twenty-five, if he recalled correctly, but she was grappling with responsibilities that would normally go to someone a decade or two older than her. And yet ... he sighed, knowing there was no choice. Avalon hadn't started with a vast array of experienced personal. Even now, the Commonwealth was desperately short of trained officers. It would take years to build up a suitable reserve.

  And you were seventeen when you went to Boot Camp, he reminded himself. He could have gone at sixteen, if his mother had signed the right papers. And you were leading men in combat when you were twenty.

  Sure, his own thoughts answered. And you - and she - had to grow up fast.

  He reached out and keyed the display, focusing on the base. Titlark had to be taken out, if the war was to be won. Even if the rest of the operation failed, taking out Titlark would slow the enemy counteroffensive ... he scowled, remembering how the justifications had been hashed out time and time again. They knew it had to be done ...

  It will be done, he told himself. And then we can proceed to the real target.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Admiral Gordon Howarth knew, without false modesty, that he wasn't a particularly good commanding officer. He’d been a desk jockey for nearly a decade before Governor Brown had taken control of Wolfbane, then found himself promoted up the chain to Admiral when he’d been assigned to Titlark. He hadn't expected the assignment to last very long, either, but the war hadn't gone precisely as planned. Titlark had wound up becoming more than a simple jump-off point for the invasion.

  He sat in the CIC of Lutheran and eyed the display, unable to admit to the fear gnawing at his heart. Admiral Singh was out there somewhere, waiting for an attack that might never come ... that would come, Gordon feared. Three battle squadrons were a formidable force, he was sure, but the enemy would know what they were facing. Indeed, if the vague sensor reports actually were cloaked ships prowling the system, the enemy would know precisely what they were facing. And they’d bring along more than enough firepower to compensate ...

  We should be making preparations to abandon the base, he thought, grimly. It wouldn't be that hard to move all the essential people out of the system.

  Admiral Singh had flatly vetoed the idea, forbidding Gordon to discuss either her presence or the impending attack with any of his officers. She was concerned about security, apparently; she’d made it clear that she expected the secret to remain secret. Gordon was concerned about the lives of his crew, about the men and women who would be captured or killed if Titlark fell ... Admiral Singh had refused to listen to him. There was nothing he could do, but obey orders and hope for the best.

  He resisted the urge to pace as he waited, knowing he didn't dare go to his office or sleeping quarters. Admiral Singh would not be amused if the base went to alert because he wasn't in place to stop it. And yet, he knew that waiting for something to happen was wearing him down. A handful of orders, a few warnings ... he could have alerted his crews without alerting any spies in the system. But the Admiral had been very clear. No one was to know until it was far too late.

  Wonderful, he thought. He’d argued as much as he dared, even though he knew that Admiral Singh had a lethal temper. We could win the battle and yet a single missile, striking the right place, could ensure we’d lose the war.

  The display beeped. He sat upright, sharply.

  “Report,” he snapped.

  “Admiral, long-range sensors are detecting flickers of turbulence,” Commander Rupert said, slowly. His face paled as he turned to face his commander. “Computer analysis suggests it’s a cloaked fleet.”

  “Show me,” Gordon ordered.

  Rupert worked his console. A red haze appeared on the display, heading directly towards the base. Gordon felt sweat prickling down his back as he silently calculated the vectors. It was impossible to be sure - they didn't have a solid lock on anything - but it looked as though the unknown ships would be entering the outer edge of detection range in thirty minutes. He rather suspected that the enemy would assume they’d be detected at that point, no matter what they did.

  “They’re sneaking up on us,” he said, slowly. “Can you get an accurate ship count?”

  “No, sir,” Rupert said. “I’d say they have somewhere between seventy and a hundred and fifty ships, but that’s just an estimate.”

  Gordon nodded. He might not be an expert, but he did have a fairly complete military education. That much turbulence could mean a large fleet of small ships or a relatively small number of capital ships. Admiral Singh’s intelligence staff hadn't been able to suggest just how many ships would be coming at them, but Gordon was fairly sure they wouldn't send a single squadron to face his three. They’d want at least five battle squadrons to give them a reasonable shot at victory.

  “Pass the word quietly - and I mean quietly - to the rest of the ships,” Gordon ordered. The Admiral wouldn't be pleased, but he couldn’t leave his fleet commanders completely in the dark. If nothing else, their sensor crews would pick up the enemy soon enough. “I want them ready to go to battle stations at a moment’s notice.”

  “Aye, sir,” Rupert said.

  Gordon smiled, then keyed his console, sending a private message to Admiral Singh. He didn't know where she was - not precisely - but he knew where she would be when the shit hit the fan. If she managed to get behind the enemy ships, they’d be trapped between two fires, forced to decide between trying to take out the base or trying to flee. Gordon rather hoped they’d choose the latter. Quite apart from maximising the odds of his personal survival, it would also limit the damage the enemy could do as they retreated.

  “The squadrons have responded, sir,” Rupert said. “They’re standing by.”

  “Then set quiet alert throughout the ships,” Gordon said. His squadrons weren't concentrated as much as he would have liked, but the ships were close enough to cover each other if the enemy had a secret weapon. “And prepare to go to full alert on my command.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  ***

  “The enemy ships are continuing their course towards the base,” Julia reported. “There’s no sign that they know they’ve been detected.”

  Rani nodded, feeling an odd thrill of excitement. She’d gambled ... and she’d won. She’d been right! She’d deduced precisely where the enemy would attack. Whatever the outcome, whoever won the coming engagement, she’d been right. The corporate beancounters and their naval lackeys could suck on it, as far as she was concerned. She hadn't lost her strategic acumen after all. None of those stuffed shirts could have done what she’d done!

  She forced her glee down, reminding herself that she could celebrate after the battle. The Commonwealth ships were heading straight for the base, under cloak. It wasn't a bad move - there was little point in dancing around when both sides knew the only possible target - but it was careless. They hadn’t even launched drones to cover their flanks.

  That will change, the moment they drop their cloaks, she reminded herself. And if we’re too close, they’ll move to evade us.

  She sucked in her breath as the three sets of vectors converged, mentally fighting and refighting the engagement. The timing had to be precise for maximum effect. If she caught the enemy at the right moment, she could be reasonably sure of shooting their ships to pieces before they could either escape or obliterate the base. And yet, even if they didn't cooperate long enough to let her get the perfect shot ...

  “Contact the fleet,” she ordered. “The battle squadrons are to move out as planned.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Julie said.

  Rani nodded. Her ships were cloaked, the enemy ships were cloaked ... but, unlike her, they didn't have access to a network of
sensor platforms. There was a very good chance that their tactical computers would ignore any turbulence they happened to detect, particularly when it was right behind them. Rani’s starships would be masked by the enemy’s own sensor turbulence.

  And even if they do notice us, she thought, it's already too late to escape an engagement.

  She silently updated the projections as the three fleets began to converge. Admiral Howarth was in place, fat and happy ... a target the enemy could not resist. Rani knew it was a trap and even she had problems telling herself that she shouldn't try to engage. Three battle squadrons were a tempting target, particularly when the crews might well be a little rusty. The opportunity to smash them could not be missed.

  “We will be at Point Hammer in twenty minutes,” Julia reported.

  “Very good,” Rani said. She smiled, coldly. “Warn the fleet. We will open fire early if we believe we've been detected.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Julia said.