“Dominion forces could complete penetration sometime between ninety five minutes and three hours and twenty minutes,” Gandalf replied in its usual soothing voice.
Hiram nodded to himself, all the while wanting to scream and run and hide. Admiral Douthat was hours away. The entire Queen’s Own and Black Watch were with her. The Queen was still on Atlas, more vulnerable every minute. The only option he had left was to somehow beef up the minefield and throw in the Coldstream Guards, who were outnumbered ten to one.
He walked back to his chair and sat down heavily, then made the call he did not want to make.
• • • • •
The Coldstream Guard waited nervously. They knew something was going on behind them in the rear of the minefield, but they didn’t know what. When Hiram Brill’s call came into the Bristol, Captain Rowe almost groaned. He knew where this was going. As Brill began to explain, Rowe decided it would be easier if all of the ships’ captains heard the message, so he conferenced them in.
“…just starting to send in their destroyers to increase the penetration of the minefield,” Brill was saying as Emily’s com screen filled with faces of the other captains. “At their current rate, unless we slow them down, they’ll breach the minefield in less than three hours, well before Admiral Douthat can get back here with reinforcements.”
Hiram looked older, Emily thought. Or tired. There were strain lines in his face and he looked gaunt.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Captain Rowe. Not that he didn’t already know.
“The Coldstream Guard has to deploy into the minefield and slow them down. Buy time. We are filling in the minefield as quickly as we can, but all that will do is buy us a few minutes, maybe an hour. You need to harass them, distract them, do whatever you can until Admiral Douthat gets back.”
“And once we do that, what’s our secondary mission?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate Everest. Everyone chuckled. Emily liked Captain Fuller; she had what her mother used to refer to as ‘spunk.’ Of course, Everest was the only Coldstream Guard frigate left, all of the others had been destroyed.
“Atlas,” Rowe said. “I’ve got four cruisers, two of which are in bad shape. Seven destroyers, all with extensive damage, one of which should have been declared a yard job. I’ve got two cruisers from Third Fleet, both with understaffed crews and another destroyer, also hurting.”
“And you have the pride of the Coldstream Guard, the H.M.S. Everest,” Fuller reminded him.
“And the Everest,” Rowe acknowledged with a tired smile.
Hiram stared at him. “Captain,” he said bluntly, “You are all I’ve got.” He hesitated, then added, “Queen Anne says she will remain on the Atlas and that she has the greatest confidence in you.”
And there it was. They were the last line of protection for the Queen.
“Well, tell the Queen that we’d have a lot more confidence in her judgement if she’d put her ass on a fast ship and get the hell to Refuge,” Fuller said, her usual bravado missing. Emily waited for Rowe to chastise her, but he said nothing. Fuller had simply said what they were all thinking.
“We’ve got a couple of scout boats that we are arming,” Hiram said, choosing to ignore Fuller’s outburst. “We’ll get them to you as soon as we can, but…” His voice trailed off.
Captain Rowe rubbed a hand across his face. “All right, Atlas, we’ll buy you some time. Use it well, it’s going to come dear.”
“We will, sir,” Hiram said. “God’s speed.”
Emily looked at the faces of the other captains and wondered how many of them would still be alive in a few hours.
Admiral Mello watched as the last squadron of five destroyers entered the cauldron. Thus far the destroyers had clawed their way through eighty percent of the minefield, at an extravagant cost in ships and men.
A strong man could shape the universe, if he had the will.
Beside him, he could sense Captain Pattin standing rigidly, radiating disapproval. He studied the holograph display carefully, measuring the depth of the remaining Vicky minefield. The task force still had fifteen cruisers and two battleships, if he included Admiral Kaeser’s Fortitude, though privately he did not think he could trust the Fortitude in a pinch.
Captain Pattin cleared her throat. “The destroyers have run out of anti-matter munitions, Admiral.”
Mello sighed. Without anti-matter warheads, the destroyers would have to scrape away at the minefield with regular high explosives and lasers, just as the mine sweepers and frigates had. They would die quickly. Sacrifice was one thing, useless sacrifice another. “Pull them out, Captain,” he ordered Pattin. “It’s time for the cruisers and the Vengeance. We’ll save Fortitude in reserve.” And out of the way, he thought.
Admiral Mello formed his fifteen cruisers and the Vengeance into a tight arc, with the Vengeance at the center. The formation aligned itself with the hole formed by frigates and destroyers.
“Sensors are showing Vicky destroyers working through the minefield towards us,” Captain Pattin warned. “Can’t get a clear readout, but there could be eight or nine of them.”
“It does not matter,” Mello replied. “They are too late.” He gave the signal.
As one, the sixteen Dominion war ships accelerated and shot a pattern of anti-matter war heads into the minefield in front of them. Five missiles, then ten, then forty, then eighty, shot into the last layer of the Victorian minefield. Moments later, they detonated simultaneously.
Space tore itself apart.
“Gods of our Mothers!” The sensor display on the New Zealand abruptly shut down as fail-safe switches kicked in. “What the hell was that?” Alex Rudd demanded.
“Sir, it looks like they just let loose with a shit load of anti-matter bombs,” Seaman Partridge replied from the Sensors console. “Dozens of them, I think. Last image I had was of sixteen ships in a circular pattern; cruisers, according to Merlin. Plus one very large ship in the center, larger than our battleships.”
Emily and Rudd exchanged a glance. There had been rumors that the Dominions were experimenting with very large battleships. It would make sense to support them with cruisers.
“When do we get sensors back, Mr. Partridge?” Emily asked.
“Another minute, Ma’am.”
“As fast as you can, Mr. Partridge. I dislike being blind.”
The communications screen blossomed to life. Captain Rowe of the Bristol appeared, looking disheveled. “They just took out another five percent of the minefield’s thickness,” he said without preamble. “Bristol still has sensors and I’ll send you the latest readings. Merlin is telling me they can punch through in three more attacks if they continue to use anti-matter weapons.”
“Good Christ, they can’t have that many anti-matter warheads in their arsenal. They just shot off more than the Home Fleet has in its entire inventory!” said the captain of the Emerald Isle. Anti-matter weapons were extremely expensive to make and notoriously tricky to use. You could never be sure what the exact radius would be of the bomb’s blast zone, and if the anti-matter particles spun off into other matter, it would start a chain explosion that would go on as long as there was enough matter to feed it.
“We have to get in there and break up their formation,” Rowe said. “I want the cruiser Australia and all of the Coldstream Guard destroyers with me. We’re going after the cruisers. We’re going to focus on five of the bastards. Merlin will give you targets and we will make a coordinated launch with everything we’ve got. We aren’t going for kills, just trying to fluster them enough to screw up their formation.” His eyes shifted until he found Emily. “Tuttle, I want you to take the cruiser Emerald Isle and the three ships from the Second Fleet and work your way in until you can launch everything you can against that damn battleship. Concentrate on its propulsion system.”
“I’m the senior officer!” protested Captain Specht, captain of the Emerald Isle. She was short and aggressive and very touchy about her place in the Cold
stream Guard hierarchy. “I should command this sortie, not someone who has been a captain for ten hours.”
Rowe didn’t mince words. “Cindy, the Emerald Isle is barely able to function. Your sensors are impaired, half your weapons don’t work and the other half can only be fired on manual. Your engine room is held together with duct tape. I need you in the fight, but there is a good chance your ship is going to fall apart once things get hot and you know it. If that happens, I can’t afford the time to shift command to a new ship. Tuttle has already worked with the Yorkshire, Kent and Galway. She gets the job.”
Captain Specht didn’t like it, but said nothing.
“What about me?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate Everest.
“Johanna, the Everest won’t last ten minutes once the fighting starts, not going toe-to-toe with Duck cruisers. I’ve got something else for you. I want you to return immediately to the Atlas — ” Fuller began to protest, but Rowe cut her off — “and find Lord Henry. Tell him that I have ordered you to remove Queen Anne from the Atlas and take her at the fastest possible speed to Refuge. Get her to safety, Johanna, even if you have to remove her forcibly from the Atlas. Do you understand?”
Everyone understood: Captain Rowe didn’t think they could stop the Dominion attack. He wanted the Queen removed because the Atlas was going to be destroyed.
“Sweet Gods of our Mothers,” someone muttered.
Captain Fuller nodded grimly. “I’ll see you all in Refuge.” Her face disappeared from the comm screen and in a moment the Everest was accelerating hard back toward the space station.
“You’ve got your orders,” Rowe said briskly. “Keep attacking until you have exhausted your missiles, then use lasers as best you can. Don’t let up! We are buying time here. You are to attack until Admiral Douthat reaches Atlas, then break off and regroup there. Good luck to you.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself, then looked around the bridge. Alex Rudd was busy tying in the other ships into the New Zealand’s communication system. Chief Gibson looked dazed, but began checking his inventory of missiles and drones. Betty stood at the comm console, tears streaming down her face. She forced a smile when she saw Emily looking at her and nodded, lips trembling. Mr. Partridge was whistling a soft tune under his breath, giving his sensors a once-over.
“Alice, tell the other ships to go to passive sensors and stealth conditions. We are going to go high and attack the Duck battleship from above. Detailed instructions will follow soon.” As soon as I can figure out what the hell I am going to do.
The first attack with anti-matter weapons destroyed about a third of the remaining layer of the Vicky minefield. Admiral Mello was disappointed; he had hoped for more.
“How long before we’re ready for the second attack?” he asked Captain Pattin. The anti-matter missiles had to be loaded manually. They were configured differently than regular missiles and were not compatible with the auto-loaders. A serious design flaw, in Mello’s opinion, but there had not been time for a reconfiguration of the missiles or the auto-loaders before they left Timor.
Captain Pattin glanced at her console. “Thirty minutes, Admiral.”
Mello fumed and cursed the men who designed the damn anti-matter weapons without proper consideration for combat conditions. “Very well. Order all ships to match speed with the Vicky minefield and keep an eye out for those Vicky destroyers. They’ll be desperate to break up our formation.”
“As you order, Admiral.
Emily took the New Zealand, Emerald Isle, Yorkshire, Kent and Galway higher and higher into the minefield, until they were five hundred miles above the plane of advance of the Duck battleship. By then the minefield had thinned out and they would become starkly visible once they left its meager shelter. The Dominion cruisers had slowed their rate of advance and were plodding along. She didn’t know what they were waiting for, but she fervently wished she had some anti-matter missiles of her own. Somewhere below her, Captain Rowe was slowly picking his way through the minefield, hoping to get as close as he could to the Duck cruisers and catch them by surprise. It was a desperate gamble.
Emily still had no idea what to do, other than just popping out of the minefield and firing every weapon available when they had a clear shot at the enemy battleship.
“Captain Tuttle, Captain Specht is on the line; she wants to talk to you.” Betty’s hand hovered over the console, ready to put them on the screen.
Emily exchanged a look with Alex Rudd. “Betty, is she on needle laser or the standard comm channel.”
Betty’s jaw worked. “Standard comm channel, Captain.”
Emily frowned. She had ordered everyone to stealthy running, which meant meant no communications unless it was really important and then only by needle laser.
Chief Gibson leaned over and whispered. “Lieutenant, Captain Rowe specifically put you in charge of this mission. You are in command. You don’t have to apologize for that to Captain Specht or take any crap from her.” She looked at him, feeling more gratitude than she could express. He nodded once and went back to his console.
“Put her on,” she told Betty. Captain Specht’s face appeared on the screen.
“Captain Tuttle, I am waiting for your battle plan,” Specht said impatiently.
“Captain Specht, we are in stealth mode, which means no radio communications,” Emily said coldly. “If you must contact me, contact me by needle laser per your orders. The battle plan will be forthcoming. New Zealand out”
Emily cut the communication and sat back in the command chair. She folded her arms, and then crossed her legs. Then she unfolded her arms and uncrossed her legs.
She had no idea what to do.
On the Dominion ship Vengeance, a sensors operator lifted his head from his instruments. “Sighting! We’ve just caught three seconds of an encrypted radio transmission from the forward edge of the minefield, on a bearing that puts them between four and six hundred miles above our plane of advance at thirty degrees off Virtual North. Not seeing any ships in the clutter, but there is somebody there.”
“Good, good.” Admiral Mello rubbed his hands together. “Mark that point and watch it. Captain Pattin, ready two anti-matter missiles for that position. Do not fire until I tell you.” Mello grinned wolfishly. He loved this. The Vickies were there and he knew it, and they didn’t know that he knew. As soon as they showed themselves, he would blanket the area with anti-matter munitions, then punch a hole to the Atlas and it would be his.
“How much longer until the anti-matter weapons are fully loaded?” he asked again.
“Twelve minutes,” Captain Pattin answered.
Soon. Very soon.
The H.M.S. Everest reached the Atlas and docked. When Captain Fuller stepped into the docking bay, she was astonished to find Queen Anne Radcliff Mendoza Churchill waiting for her, alone except for Sir Henry and four of her armsmen, each of whom carried a weapon open in his hand.
“You must be Johanna Fuller,” Queen Anne greeted her warmly. “I have heard much of you and the Everest.”
Fuller blinked. With her stood five of her crew, mostly senior chiefs who could be counted on in a pinch, all armed. The Queen’s bodyguards were watching them intently.
“Your Majesty,” she began, “I’ve been ordered-”
Queen Anne nodded. “Yes, yes, of course you have.” She smiled and extended a hand. “Come, Captain, walk with me.” Her eyes sparkled. “But tell your men to restrain themselves from doing anything, um, provocative. My armsmen are very protective of me and we wouldn’t want any unpleasantness, would we?”
They ambled across the ship bay and into the crews’ lounge. All the while Queen Anne smiled warmly and Sir Henry glowered and scowled. Two more armsmen joined them, taking up a rear position behind her five chiefs. The chiefs looked increasingly unhappy and took great care to keep their hands away from their weapons.
“Captain Rowe, bless him, sent you to take me to Refuge,” the Queen said matter-of-factly. “But I
have a more important task for you, Johanna. May I call you Johanna?”
Johanna Fuller felt like she had fallen into the rabbit hole, her earlier determination to march in and grab the Queen draining away.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Johanna, my advisors tell me that the Dominion have enough force to reach the Atlas within a few hours, maybe as little as two. We have several hundred tug boats that have been towing us, rather slowly I’m afraid, toward the Refuge wormhole. While you have been off fighting, about a hundred of the tugs have dropped their tow lines — I know they’re not really lines, Johanna, but that’s how I think of them — and have picked up missile launcher pods. These pods, I am told, are designed to work through a war ship’s combat AI. The tugs don’t have that type of AI, but the Everest does.” The Queen stopped and turned to her.
“So, Johanna, instead of spiriting me away to Refuge and taking a terrible risk that we will lose the Atlas, I want you to lead the tugs back and attack the Dominion ships.”
“For the love of God, Your Majesty!” Sir Henry said urgently. “You must leave! Get on the Everest and go to Refuge while you still can!”
Queen Anne smiled wanly and touched his hand. “Sir Henry, without the Atlas, all I would be in Refuge is a historical footnote, languishing without a people to lead or any means of projecting power. Atlas is our industrial base, the womb of our next fleet. While we have Atlas, Victoria has hope. We will stay together, Atlas and I.” She turned back to Fuller.
“So, Captain Johanna Fuller, will you lead them back?”
At the very edge of the mine field, slightly below the plane of advance of the Dominion cruisers, Captain Rowe closed his eyes and silently said a prayer for the safety of his ship and crew. Then he quietly spoke into the comm. “Advance. On my signal, fire missiles and lasers and fall back into the minefield.”
Two cruisers and seven destroyers crept forward and poked their noses out of the minefield. Merlin had already selected targets: the five Dominion cruisers on the enemy’s right flank.
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