Alarm of War v-1

by Kennedy Hudner

  “We can’t,” he said shortly. “We cannot fight and win, but we can run,” Hiram replied, his own sense of certainty for once suffusing his voice with confidence. “And we’ll take Atlas with us.”

  Chapter 43

  In Victorian Space, near Bogey One

  “There they are,” the Sensors Officer breathed. “Sweet Gods, look at ‘em all!”

  H.M.S. Annapurna hung motionless in space five thousand miles away from Bogey One. Two hours earlier it had launched a dozen spy drones and sent them across the travel lane favored by traders going from Cape Breton to Victoria. Annapurna was a scout frigate, specially fitted to be stealthy and with a powerful assortment of passive sensors. Just for practice, it routinely stalked freighters and other ships traveling along the main trader routes. Even more fun was stalking other war ships in the Home Fleet. Captain Culver delighted in sending her fellow captains copies of the sensor reports showing how close she had gotten to them, completely undetected. She called them her “love letters.”

  The other captains were seldom amused; Culver thought it was hilarious.

  Two of the spy drones had bracketed the incoming fleet, collected data from their sensitive passive sensors and beamed it back to Annapurna by whisker laser.

  “Put it up on the board, Donny,” Culver said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Warrant Officer Donald DiFusco typed in a command and the holo display blossomed. The spy drones had gotten close enough for visual sightings as well as picking up radio, sensor and anti-matter emissions. Culver maneuvered the display controls to zoom in until they could clearly see individual ships.

  “My, my,” she said. “And who is that knocking at my door?” She hummed the tune from a popular song as she panned the camera angle back and forth, occasionally zooming in to examine some detail.

  “I see eighty seven ships, Captain,” DiFusco reported. “Eighty five have military grade power plants and engines, two are definitely civilian freighters.” He shrugged. “They may be using them as colliers. We are not — I repeat, not — picking up T-band broad spectrum sensors or S-band targeting sensors, just normal navigation BB-band that you’d expect to see with any freighter. No radio traffic at all. They are locked down tight, being as stealthy as a big ass fleet of ships can be.”

  “Origin?”

  “Mildred classifies most of them as Dominion, but there are a bunch that have drive signatures that are not in our data bank. Similar to known Dominion drives, but different, like they might be the next generation.”

  Culver frowned. Next generation engines? She didn’t like the sound of that. “Size and strength?”

  “Looks like eighty five war birds, including one really big sonofabitch, bigger than our standard battleships. Then we’ve got…um, thirty cruiser size ships, another thirty destroyer size, then a bunch of smaller ships, mostly frigates and smaller.” He looked up. “Interesting, though, near the back of the fleet, there are two large ships, but I can’t figure out what they are.” He spun the aiming device, then zoomed in on two ships that looked like two large ovals.

  Culver frowned. The two ships did not appear to have any significant offensive weapons, unless they were hidden in the hull. There were several rows of short, stubby weapons that she guessed were for anti-missile defense. Colliers? They were much bigger than any colliers she had ever seen. She zoomed in further. There were dozens of radio dishes spotted along the top of each ship, more than any collier would need. She mentally shrugged; let the boffins back at Atlas have a go at it.

  “Close down the drones and let’s back out of here, quiet and slow,” she told her deck crew. “Julianne, do we have a clean shot for the comm laser back to Atlas?”

  “No, Captain,” the Communications Officer replied. “We’ll have to route it through one of the satellites.”

  “Set it up. Download all of the drone data and send it off ‘Priority Alpha.’ Mark it for attention to Home Fleet Command, with a copy to this Lieutenant Brill, whoever he is.”

  Captain Culver sat back in her chair, ignoring the subtle tremor as the ship crept away under chemical thrusters. She zoomed the display out until she could see the entire fleet, colored red by the computer as hostiles. A deep thrill of fear coursed through her. How would they stop so many ships?

  Chapter 44

  In Victorian Space

  Dominion Task Force (Bogey One)

  A strong man could shape the universe to his will.

  Bend it, if need be.

  Admiral Mello knew this to be true. Task Force One was now twenty hours inside Victorian space and still undetected. They’d reach Cornwall and the precious space stations in another twenty four hours. Every mile increased the chances they would be discovered, but so far there was no reason for the Vickies to be suspicious. They were just another grain convoy from Cape Breton, larger than most, perhaps, but not threatening in the least. They were just plodding along, getting closer and closer to their objective.

  “Any word from Admiral Kaeser?”

  “Nothing yet, sir. Since he doesn’t know exactly where we are, he can’t reach us by laser, and he probably doesn’t want to risk a courier drone.”

  Mello shrugged. He hadn’t really expected anything, not yet. “Anything on the holo?”

  Commander Pattin shook her head. “We’ve seen a few freighters, but at some distance, too far away for them to paint us with commercial sensors. We’ve had the usual sensor ghosts, but nothing worth investigating.”

  Dominion Task Force One plowed on. Six thousand miles away, the H.M.S. Annapurna found a clear line of sight to one of the Fleet’s communications satellites and beamed its message of warning.

  • • • • •

  The Fleet ship closest to Bogey Two was a destroyer, the H.M.S. Glasgow, captained by Captain Robert Manforte, known by his crew with affection as Madman Manforte for his daring and boldness during Fleet maneuvers.

  “Picking up Bogey Two, Captain,” the Sensors Officer said. “At least fifty ships, maybe more.”

  Manforte frowned. Only fifty? The report from Atlas had identified as many as seventy. Had they split up, divided their force?

  “Okay, boys and girls,” Manforte said breezily. “Let’s get closer and eyeball these bastards. Pilot, set course for convergence, then kill the engines and we’ll coast right by them.” He smiled wolfishly. “Close enough to tickle them as we go by.”

  Two hours later the Glasgow was less than a thousand miles away, coming in from a wide angle so that it would cross under the Dominion fleet. Its passive sensors recorded everything.

  On board the Dominion ship Fortitude, Admiral Kaeser watched the holo display with growing incredulity. He had a globe of twenty ships coasting in parallel with the rest of Attack Force Two, acting as a perimeter guard. They had picked up the Vicky destroyer twenty minutes ago and had been plotting its course since then. For a while Admiral Kaeser had hoped that by simply ignoring the destroyer, they could bluff their way though. The Dominion had notified the Victorian Port Authority that it was sending another fleet to reinforce its ships in Tilleke space, and Kaeser had hoped to hide in plain sight.

  He sighed. The Vickies were either just curious or they were on to something. No matter.

  “No radio emissions from the Vicky destroyer?”

  “Nothing yet, Admiral. Still coming in silent.”

  Kaeser nodded in satisfaction. The destroyer had not radioed a warning. No doubt the captain intended to fly right past the Dominion Attack Force and then report back to Victoria, covering himself in glory in the process. All balls and no brain, he thought — a common failing of Victorian Fleet captains.

  “Very well, then. Execute Rabbit Snare on my command. Make sure the frigates and destroyers watch for the Omega drone; it must not escape. Execute!”

  On command, twenty Dominion cruisers fired every laser battery they had at the hapless Glasgow. Dozens upon dozens of one inch, three inch and five inch laser beams smashed the hull of the Vi
ctorian destroyer, spearing deep into the inner compartments, blowing apart everything in their path. The Glasgow promptly disintegrated. Incredibly, two Omega drones burst from the growing cloud of debris, only to be shot down by the Dominion frigates and destroyers that had been waiting for them.

  Admiral Kaeser looked at the clock. Twenty three more hours to go.

  “Carry on,” he ordered.

  Chapter 45

  In Victorian Space

  Atlas Space Station

  The man stood in the doorway of the Fleet Intelligence Center, his way barred by the Queen’s bodyguards.

  “And you are?” asked Admiral Douthat impatiently.

  “I’m Opinsky, in charge of plant operations for Atlas,” he said, seemingly not fazed by the Admiral, the guards or the fact that a woman who looked suspiciously like Princess Anne was standing there with a bemused look on her face. He gestured toward Hiram Brill. “Hiram asked me to get up here right away.” He shrugged. “So I came.”

  “It’s okay,” Hiram said hastily. “I asked him to come. We need him if we’re going to move Atlas. Max,” he said to Opinsky, “Peter Murphy is bringing in all the tugs he can get hold of, maybe two hundred. We’re going to move the Atlas station out of orbit and tow it to Refuge.” At that Admiral Douthat and Captain Grey both looked at him in astonishment. Queen Anne tilted her head, considering, and stole a glance to Sir Henry. Sir Henry frowned.

  “Big job,” Opinsky said stolidly.

  “Murphy says if we try to tow the space station, we’ll tear it apart.”

  Opinsky glowered. “Murphy is a thick-headed Irishman whose idea of a big engineering job is opening a bottle of beer, and at that only if he can find the top of the bottle. He knows less than nothin’ about this station. This old girl’s got a series of strong points on each outer ring. If there is a major disaster, like a fire, or if one of them damn fool Navy drivers smacks a ring with a battleship, we can unhook the entire section and tow it out, then replace it with a pre-fab section. There’s like eighty or more strong points around the main ring, couple of dozen or more on the inner ring.”

  “So we can tow Atlas?” Hiram asked.

  “Course you can,” Opinsky said. “Slow, of course. I mean, she’s a big bitch and it won’t be easy, but you tie into the strong points and she’ll hold up just fine, ‘long as Murphy and his crew don’t fuck it up.”

  Queen Anne coughed to cover a laugh. Her eyes were dancing. “Thank you, Mr. Opinsky.” Another short fit of coughing. “Um, how is it you know Lieutenant Brill?”

  A hint of a smile creased Opinsky’s lips. “Hiram? He’s just a curious son-of-a-bitch, is all. Offered to buy me a drink and asked me all sorts of questions about how Atlas was built, what industries we have on board, ship building, the whole lot. But Sweet Gods, he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn.” He frowned suddenly, peering closer at the Queen. “You look very familiar…”

  Queen Anne nodded emphatically. “People often say that, I don’t know why. Admiral, could you please use Mr. Opinsky to help coordinate the towing effort with Captain Murphy?” She looked around. “I think we are leaving for Refuge just as soon as we can.”

  After they left, the Queen turned on Brill. “Lieutenant, do I understand that once you saw the incoming Dominion ships, you just decided on your own to take Atlas off to safe haven in Refuge, without consulting with the Admiral or any of your superiors?”

  Hiram thought of trying to explain, but finally just nodded.

  “Are you always this impulsive? Is that why you did all this?” And though her tone was light, her expression was serious.

  Her question stung him. Impulsive? He was the least impulsive person he knew. It was his primary flaw. He dithered, poked, considered and was usually so indecisive that it drove him crazy. He yearned to be impulsive.

  “Sometimes,” he said flatly, “I simply see things with great clarity.”

  The Queen tilted her head again, then nodded slowly. “Okay, Lieutenant. I lost all of my personal staff on Cornwall when the Palace was destroyed. I can always use people who see things with ‘great clarity.’ You are now seconded as my Intelligence Adjutant. You will report directly to me.” She turned. “Sir Henry, we need a home. Atlas has room and the necessary communications nexus. And I suspect that Admiral Douthat will be delighted that we are not staying on one of her war ships.”

  Sir Henry looked pained. “I would prefer, Majesty, that you get on a fast destroyer and go directly to Refuge. Atlas will be the target of every Dominion ship out there. We cannot guarantee your safety.”

  Queen Anne smiled coolly. “I think not, Sir Henry. If we lose Atlas, we lose everything. If I must run from the Dominion and abandon Cornwall and Christchurch, I must have Atlas.”

  “I must protest, Majesty. Exposing yourself to this danger is reckless in the extreme.”

  “So noted,” Anne said. She turned back to Brill, who was still trying to digest the news that he was now part of the Queen’s personal staff. “I assume you had some plans for the second space station, Prometheus?”

  “We don’t have the tugs to tow it, but we can’t leave it behind,” he replied. “It has to be destroyed.”

  The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Destroy it? Destroy the second largest industrial space station in all of Human Space?”

  Hiram refused to back down. “We don’t have enough tugs to tow both of them. If Prometheus is left behind, it will fall into enemy hands and they’ll have the benefit of its capacity to turn out a frigate every day, a destroyer every week, a cruiser every month or a battleship every three months.”

  “That space station cost five trillion credits, young man,” Sir Henry huffed.

  Admiral Douthat returned then, and to his surprise, she supported Hiram. “It is a military decision, Your Majesty, not a political one. We simply can’t leave this significant an asset to fall into Dominion hands.

  They argued the point for an hour, then the Queen grudgingly gave her permission for Prometheus to be sacrificed.

  “You don’t seem terribly upset by this loss, Mr. Brill,” Queen Anne observed tartly.

  Hiram shrugged. “When your good options are taken from you, Your Majesty, the choices you have left are simple. Terrible, perhaps, but simple.”

  Anne smiled thinly. “For such a mild mannered man, Lieutenant, you can be very cold. I think you and Sir Henry will get along famously.” Hiram and Sir Henry gave each other a considering glance.

  The Queen, her bodyguards and Sir Henry swept from the room. Hiram collapsed shakily into the nearest chair, his mind whirling. He gradually became aware that Captain Grey was smiling at him.

  “Relax, Brill,” she said dryly. “An hour ago you were about to be arrested for high treason…and now you have the favor of the Queen. You’re doing just fine.”

  He blinked in confusion. “Captain, I thought you were on board the New Zealand. I mean, I thought you were the one who shot down the Dominion freighter that tried to take out Lionheart.”

  Grey’s eyes widened. “New Zealand shot the freighter? My ship?”

  “Yes, Ma-am, I thought you knew. Heck, I assumed it was you who did it.”

  The New Zealand was still at full battle stations, but as Emily watched the holo display it was becoming increasingly clear that whoever the bad guys were, they were dead. Indeed, just about every Dominion ship in sensor range had either been destroyed outright or boarded and seized.

  “Coffee, Lieutenant?” Chief Gibson asked.

  “Oh, Sweet Gods, I would kill for a cup of coffee.” She accepted it greedily. The adrenalin letdown after they’d destroyed the Blue Swan had been brutal. She sipped; it was sweet. She raised an eyebrow at Chief Gibson, who shrugged. “I noticed that you like a couple of sugars, Lieutenant, so I made sure they made it right.” Emily was touched.

  “Thank you, Chief…and thank you for your support earlier. I know things were moving pretty fast. And…well, thanks.”

  Gibson pursed his lips and nodd
ed. “Yeah, it was a little wild and woolly, wasn’t it?” He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “But Lieutenant, what I don’t understand…well, the thing is, when you arrested Mr. Bishop, which was the right thing to do, I understand that, but when you did, you cited Article 13.27(a) of the Fleet Code of Justice.”

  Emily looked at him expressionlessly.

  “Well, I got curious, you see, so when things had calmed down a little, I asked Merlin for a copy of Article 13.27(a), and the thing is, Lieutenant, the thing is that all it talks about is housing allowances for junior grade officers, not dereliction of duty or treason or any of that stuff.”

  Emily leaned forward. “Chief?”

  Gibson looked at her expectantly. She put a finger to her lips.

  “Shhssh!”

  Chapter 46

  In Victorian Space

  Eight hours after the Dominion freighters attacked and destroyed two of the Home Fleets battleships, the last tug boat slipped into place above Space Station Atlas. Its towing beam was slaved to the master controller on board the Son of Dublin. Max Opinsky, sitting next to Peter Murphy, gave the display one last look over. “She’s ready, Murphy. Don’t fuck this up.”

  Peter Murphy thumbed his radio, connecting him to the two hundred and twelve tugs that had arrived in time to join in. “All tugs! This is a tale you’ll tell your grandchildren, and they won’t believe a word of it! On my mark, accelerate at two percent of standard.”

  He flipped the safety shield off, exposing the dial that would activate all two hundred and twelve tractor beams. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” he muttered, invoking the old religion, “let this work!” Beside him, Opinsky snorted in amusement, but his hands were clenched white.

  Peter Murphy twisted the dial to ten percent power, glancing anxiously at the visual display of Atlas’s outer ring. Tentatively, he brought the power up to twenty five percent, then fifty, then one hundred. His face dripped with sweat.