She smiled wistfully at the thought. She’d no longer be in command, if half of Home Fleet arrived in the Martina Sector, but it wouldn't matter. All that would matter would be the simple fact they’d have enough firepower to carve though the Druavroks and march all the way to their homeworld. The war would be over in less than a month.
But I don't have half of Home Fleet heading out here to support me, she reminded herself, as she finished her coffee. All I have is nine cruisers and a handful of support ships. The rest of the firepower has to come from the alien warships.
Pushing the thought aside, she rose to her feet and headed for the bridge. Commander Wilde needed rest too, before problems started to crop up with the crew. She’d relieve him and let him get some sleep, along with the alpha and beta crews. And then, finally, she could get some rest herself.
At least we’re on the move again, she thought, as she stepped through the hatch. The bridge, at least, was fully-manned, even though it felt more like Commander Wilde’s territory these days. The enemy won’t have time to take the offensive themselves.
Chapter Thirty
Federal troops are reported to be heading to Texas, following the air strikes launched by the Texan-led Alliance for the Preservation of the United States against California. However, the remains of the USAF have not attempted to intercept the Alliance aircraft or mount counter-strikes against Texas or any of the other states. Anonymous reports on the datanet suggest that USAF pilots are walking off the job in large numbers - or, in at least two cases, deserting to Texas.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
Warlord Joist sat in the command perch, waiting.
Patience was not something that came naturally to the Druavroks. Their evolutionary history, to say nothing of their experience since they’d been welcomed into galactic society, told them to spring on the prey as soon as possible, before it could get away. The concept of prey that fought back was hard for them to grasp, let alone one that might prove dangerously intelligent and vindictive. Hadn't every other race in the galaxy, all prey, taken their technology from the god-like Tokomak? It boded ill for their intelligence, Warlord Joist had often considered, that none of the prey had ever improved on the technology of the gods. But then, it was created by the gods. If the Druavroks couldn't improve on it, how could any of their prey?
He kept his face impassive as he eyed his crew, all crouching forward in their perches as they maintained the siege. They were impatient, he knew; he’d already seen off three challenges from younger officers who thought they were serving under a coward. That, at least, wouldn't have been a problem, but they’d allowed their bloodlust to drive them forward, overriding prudence and caution. They hadn't realised, of course, that no one survived being promoted to warlord without plenty of experience and skill, as well as the willingness to use it. He’d licked their blood from his claws, knowing it would dissuade future challengers for a few weeks. The siege would be maintained without a bloody attack on the planet that would leave his fleet in ruins.
And besides, he reminded himself, there is a plan.
He wasn’t too surprised that his forces hadn't already been attacked, despite their proximity to Amstar. Prey, even dangerous prey, simply didn't know how to fight. But even prey would eventually cast their eyes on his force and rate it a suitable target. This new species of prey - these humans - were strange, but there was no denying the damage they’d inflicted on the forces laying siege to Dab-Yam. Only a handful of warships had survived the holocaust the humans had unleashed. Charging madly into the teeth of their fire was a good way to get oneself impaled on the horns of a maddened animal.
“Warlord,” an officer said, approaching and baring her neck before him. Her scent indicated it wouldn't be too long before she entered mating season, sparking off a frenzy among her male crewmembers for the right to mate with her. “The picket ship has been detected returning to the planet.”
“They are coming,” Warlord Joist said, thoughtfully. He’d put a handful of ships out on picket duty, extending his sensor range far enough to get some additional warning of the prey’s approach. “Inform the fleet to prepare for the engagement as planned, then dispatch the courier boat to the homeworld.”
He allowed his mouth to loll open, showing his teeth. It was possible, even probably, that the system was under covert observation. His forces had been running convoys in and out of the system, as planned. The enemy had had plenty of opportunity to sneak a ship into the system and set up a network of stealthed recon platforms, as called for by all the good tactical manuals. But, if everything had gone according to plan, it wouldn't matter. And if it hadn’t ... well, they were only prey, after all, even if they were dangerously capable prey. He wouldn’t bet against his own forces in an even fight.
The crewwoman drew back. “Yes, Warlord,” she said. “It is my pleasure to serve.”
She backed off, never turning her back on him. Warlord Joist watched her go, then turned his attention to the display. The return of the picket ship was all the warning he needed, really; it told him that the enemy were approaching and their rough vector. He would have all the time in the world to set up his side of the operation. It had been frustrating, even for him, to hold back when he knew he could have taken the planet, but it was the bait in a trap. Afterwards, he promised himself, his crews would feast on the planet’s inhabitants. He might even secure the world as his family’s demesne.
And the prey will break before us, he promised himself. And order will return to the universe.
***
“We will be dropping out of FTL in thirty minutes, Captain,” Brown said. “The fleet has moved to condition two.”
“Take the fleet to condition one in twenty minutes,” Hoshiko ordered, curtly. “I want to be ready for anything.”
She sucked in her breath as the timer continued its long countdown to zero. Palsies, according to the last set of reports, was only surrounded by two squadrons of enemy battleships and a handful of smaller vessels, but she refused to allow overconfidence to blind her. The enemy battleships should be easy targets, particularly if they were handled poorly, yet the enemy had been acting oddly. She was tempted to believe that they’d learned a few harsh lessons from her attacks, but she dared not take it for granted. All she could do was handle her ships with confidence and brace herself for any surprises.
“The fleet signals that it is at full readiness,” Brown continued. “I believe the beta and delta command networks are operational, ready to take over if necessary.”
“Good,” Hoshiko said. “Run a final operational test at fifteen minutes, then keep both redundant command networks at standby. They can take over if the shit hits the fan.”
She closed her eyes, hoping - praying - that wouldn't be necessary. The aliens seemed willing to accept orders from human commanders, because humans weren't involved in their pre-war power struggles, but they were less willing to accept commands from their former rivals. Somehow, she wasn't too surprised to discover that the Grand Alliance couldn't really do anything more than paper over the cracks as it struggled to keep the aliens going in the same direction. But then, her grandfather’s stories of wars in the Crazy Years, as he’d called them, had made it clear she was far from the first commander to face the same problem.
Wilde’s face appeared in front of her. “Captain,” he said. “The squadron is fully at your command.”
“Very good,” Hoshiko said. She sucked in a breath as the timer reached ten minutes to their destination. “Sound red alert, Commander; set condition one throughout the fleet.”
Brown turned to face her as the display shifted to red. “The fleet has checked in, Captain,” he said. “They’re at red alert.”
Or whatever they use to signify condition one, Hoshiko thought. There were races that considered red to be a light, friendly colour and races that were completely colour-blind, unable to understand why other races made such a fuss about them. Without AIs, keeping track of each race’s prefe
rences was a minor nightmare. And even with it, we may find it harder to operate a much larger force.
“The reporter would like to join us,” Brown added. “Captain?”
“Tell him he can enter the compartment, as long as he stays quiet,” Hoshiko ordered. No doubt the reporter had realised that the observation blister wouldn't provide much of a view, let alone an awareness of what was actually going on. “And then prepare for combat.”
She turned her attention back to the timer and watched as the final minutes faded away and the fleet dropped back into the normal universe. Palsies appeared in front of her, a blue-green world surrounded by orbital battlestations and makeshift defences ... and nearly a hundred red icons, each one representing an enemy warship. Oddly, the Druavroks didn't seem to have set up mass drivers or anything else that would wear the enemy down. They were just sniping at the defences from just beyond their effective range.
Not that that won’t prove effective, she reminded herself. They only need to get lucky once to score a hit on the planet, slaughtering thousands of natives. The defenders need to be lucky all the time to keep them from committing genocide.
“No enemy ships within engagement range,” Brown reported. He frowned. “Captain, the enemy fleet has not assumed a defensive posture.”
Hoshiko’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the display. The Druavroks were badly outnumbered - and they had to know it - but their fleet was scattered, instead of hurrying to form up into a formation that allowed for mutual support. Could they have missed her fleet as it approached the system? That wasn't possible, surely? Every starship carried gravimetric sensors, even freighters that weren't supposed to be anywhere near the front lines. No, the aliens had to have known she was on the way. And yet they hadn't taken even basic precautions.
She studied the display, thinking fast. It was tempting - very tempting - to simply lunge forward and obliterate the enemy ships before they had a chance to correct their blunder. A battleship was a powerful vessel, but she could smother them in missiles if she wanted, overwhelming their defences in a single blow. And yet, the enemy had to have something up their sleeves. What? Surely it was a trap of some kind ...
They didn't move reinforcements into the system, she thought. We had it under observation for weeks. They shipped in hundreds of freighters, presumably crammed with supplies, but no additional warships.
“Task Forces 2.1 through 2.5 are to advance forward,” she ordered, slowly. Had the enemy mined space, intending to dare her to impale herself on the mines? “Launch probes - I want every last atom drifting through space noted and logged before we enter weapons range.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.
Hoshiko sat back in her command chair, considering. If it was a trap, how was it to be sprung? And if it wasn't a trap, why weren’t the enemy attacking? Or jumping into FTL and fleeing for their lives? What were they thinking?
***
“Warlord,” the sensor officer said. “The prey are sending a smaller force forward to engage us.”
Interesting, Warlord Joist thought.
He stroked his teeth in consideration. The more aggressive species on his homeworld were inclined to take advantage of weakness - or perceived weakness. Leaving his ships strung out, like goats to lure the tiger, had seemed certain to lure the enemy into the trap. But instead, the prey were hesitating, as if they could see the jaws starting to spring shut. And there was no time to let them overcome their doubts. The longer they took, the greater the danger they’d see the trap while there was still time to make their escape.
“Order the fleet to assume defensive formation,” he ordered. “And to launch probes towards the attacking fleet.”
The display updated slowly, very slowly. There were so many enemy ships that it was impossible, even with the most advanced sensors, to count them all, but it was clear that only three hundred or so were actual warships. That, at least, tallied with the earlier reports that the prey were dependent on freighters. And everyone knew that freighters, no matter how many missiles or energy weapons were crammed into their hull, were not warships. They’d be easy prey once the warships were gone.
They won’t have a better opportunity to kill my ships, he thought. Prey were dangerously unpredictable when they saw danger; some would move fast, hoping to defeat the danger before it could grow stronger, others merely retreated to safety. I have to offer them the chance to take my ships out before they form a defensive formation.
He glanced at the timer, baring his teeth. Whatever else happened, the prey were in for a very nasty surprise.
***
“The enemy fleet has begun to assume defensive formation,” Brown reported. “They’re launching probes towards us.”
Hoshiko frowned. “Are they powering up their FTL drives?”
“I think so,” Brown said. His voice was doubtful. “It’s impossible to be sure, Captain. Their drives are heavily shielded.”
“I see,” Hoshiko said.
She cursed under her breath. Two squadrons of enemy battleships were a worthwhile target by anyone’s standards, not least because they were scattered rather than concentrated into a single formation. She knew she should follow in the footsteps of her ancestors - both sides of her family - and strike them before they had a chance to escape. She’d only have to face them again, perhaps in a far larger and deadlier formation. And yet ... the more she looked at it, the less sense it made. Something was definitely very wrong.
Task Forces 2.1 through 2.5 cannot handle an enemy defensive formation, she thought, grimly. By now, the Druavroks would have a good idea of just how capable her missiles were ... and reprogrammed their point defence systems to cope with them. A hundred freighters firing missiles might be enough to smash the enemy formation before it could escape - or it might not. But if I order the rest of the fleet forward, we may spring a trap.
She studied the display. Humanity’s probes, active or passive, were among the most capable in the known galaxy. There was nothing between her fleet and the enemy ships, apart from dozens of pieces of debris from the first set of battles for the system. And her probes had taken a look at the debris and concluded it was harmless. There was nothing lying in wait for her ...
“Captain,” Brown said. “The enemy fleet is definitely powering up its FTL drives.”
“Understood,” Hoshiko said. That changed matters. The enemy fleet had to be smashed before it had a chance to escape - or summon reinforcements. “General signal to the fleet, Lieutenant. The battle line will advance to engage the enemy.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.
***
“Warlord, the prey are advancing forward,” the sensor officer reported.
“Excellent,” Warlord Joist said.
His mouth lolled open in silent amusement. By any reasonable standard, three thousand ships bearing down on his fleet was anything but excellent, yet it made the prey overconfident and worked in his favour. Powering up the FTL drives and keeping them on standby, despite the wear and tear on the drives themselves, had proven to be enough to lure the humans forward.
“Continue assembling the formation,” he ordered. The humans wanted to back him against the planet’s defences and he would oblige them, for as long as it suited him. “Launch an additional set of long-range probes, then bring up all of our targeting sensors and sweep the enemy fleet.”
The sensor officer offered no objection, even though it was generally regarded as a tactical misstep. Passive sensors were silent, utterly undetectable, but active sensors could be located by the enemy ... often before the active sensors detected the prey themselves. The humans could isolate and track each and every one of his ships, just by their own emissions. They’d find it a great deal easier to target their missiles now ...
But you won’t have a chance to fire, he told himself, sternly. He didn't understand why the humans, let alone the other prey, were coming to the defence of the weak, but he could take advantage of it. And even if you do, you�
��ll risk the entire planet when you start firing missiles towards a gravity well.
***
“The enemy ships are bringing up targeting sensors, Commander,” Biscoe reported. “They are trying to locate our ships.”
Griffin stroked his chin in growing concern. The Druavroks were acting uncharacteristically ... and that worried him. Were they panicking? Were they torn between the impulse to stand their ground and fight, despite knowing it would mean certain death, and the unfortunate necessity of a tactical retreat? Given what he’d read about them in the reports, he wouldn't have cared to be an enemy officer proposing to refuse battle. He'd probably have his throat slit by his superiors or be assassinated by his juniors.
He glanced down at the sensor feed and swore under his breath. There was nothing. The enemy didn't have anything, apart from a hundred ships in orbit that seemed torn between a futile last stand and a withdrawal from the field of battle. It made no sense to him at all. If he’d been in their place, he would have lifted the siege and abandoned the system without a fight. Losing eighteen battleships for nothing would weaken the enemy quite badly.
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 31