Unless she’s planning to run before we arrive. It would put a lot of wear and tear on our equipment and make us look like idiots.
He examined the starchart. It was practically a given that Tyre and Home Fleet were under close observation. The king didn’t need pickets and stealth ships to monitor William’s fleet. He had no shortage of supporters scattered throughout the naval bureaucracy. The security services swore blind they’d rooted them out, but William didn’t believe the propaganda. If no one had realized that Hadrian had been Admiral Morrison’s secret patron, how could they pick out a lowly clerk in Planetary Defense who might take money from the king? Hell, it might be something as simple as money. It would be difficult to spot someone who hadn’t taken visible advantage of a patron’s patronage. Someone who simply took a bribe . . .
“We have to move now,” Grand Admiral Rudbek said. “She cannot be allowed to hold the system.”
“She won’t hold it forever,” William pointed out. “If we wait a few days, she’ll probably withdraw and allow us to retake the system with a single destroyer.”
Grand Admiral Rudbek purpled, as if William had made an obscene suggestion. “We cannot afford to look weak,” he snapped. “And this looks like the perfect chance to smash a fraction of the king’s fleet!”
“I know,” William said. “That’s what bothers me.”
“Take two squadrons and liberate Perfuma,” Grand Admiral Rudbek ordered. “If you can destroy her fleet, do it. I don’t want her to get away with this.”
“Neither do I,” William said, ignoring the twist in his heart. Scott was en route to Caledonia. God alone knew what he’d do if Kat was killed before he could meet her. “I’d prefer to take three superdreadnought squadrons . . .”
“That would leave us exposed here,” Grand Admiral Rudbek said. “Two. Two only. And don’t ask for more.”
William swallowed the response that came to mind. Grand Admiral Rudbek wasn’t incompetent, but he lacked a backbone. His family had probably spent the last few hours making it very clear to him that Perfuma had to be recovered or else. And or else could be something as unpleasant as being dishonorably discharged from the navy and then disowned from the family. The poor bastard was caught between a rock and a hard place. He’d have no choice but to do as his family wished. And William could hardly go to his patron and ask for help. That would make it impossible to work with the grand admiral in the future.
Assuming my career survives, William thought dryly. Perhaps I should have stayed on Asher Dales. Would have been so much simpler . . .
“I’ll see to it personally,” he said. “Two of my squadrons are on quick-reaction duty. I’ll take them and . . . liberate Perfuma. If you ready the rest for action elsewhere . . .”
Grand Admiral Rudbek frowned. “We have to cover Tyre.”
“Yes,” William said. “But Kat might easily take her fleet elsewhere before we can reach Perfuma.”
He looked at the starchart, weighing the odds. Kat would need to resupply her fleet before a major engagement, if she genuinely intended to wait to be hit. That was odd, so odd he resolved to be very careful when he entered the system. Kat wasn’t the sort of person to make obvious mistakes. She was up to something, but what? Kat wanted—needed—to pinch off a section of Home Fleet and destroy it, just as he had to do the same to the king’s fleet. And yet, the king hadn’t let her take more than a single superdreadnought squadron to Perfuma. He couldn’t uncover Caledonia any more than the House of Lords could uncover Tyre.
“If they keep the real-time reports flowing . . .” He shook his head. “We’ll check the reports just before we enter the system, just in case Kat intends to go elsewhere before we can arrive. If not, we’ll close with the enemy ships and destroy them.”
“See that you do,” Grand Admiral Rudbek said. “You know how much is resting on this, Admiral. We cannot afford a defeat.”
“Then we need to commit additional ships to my fleet,” William said. He tried to sound convincing, even though he suspected it was pointless. “A third superdreadnought squadron . . .”
“Is unavailable,” Grand Admiral Rudbek said crossly. He sounded as if he wasn’t happy himself. “We need to keep the ships here.”
“Yes, sir,” William said tiredly.
“I understand your concerns,” Grand Admiral Rudbek said, “but you have your orders. Good luck.”
His image vanished. William stared at the blank display for a long moment, then tapped the intercom and called for coffee. Thankfully Home Fleet had spent enough time training over the past few months that everyone knew what they had to do. The superdreadnoughts were bringing their drives online, ready to depart. Their escorts would have to be organized . . . William worked his way through the fleet lists, ensuring that his formation would have plenty of scouting elements. If Kat was planning a surprise, hopefully he’d see it coming before it got into range.
And if I don’t, things are going to get interesting.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PERFUMA
Kat felt uneasy as she jerked awake, unsure what had woken her. Her dreams had been dark and shadowy, mocking reminders of everything she’d lost over the last few years. Life had been so simple, once upon a time. She’d commanded a starship, she’d fought in a war, she’d had a lover and friends and a father . . .
She sat upright, feeling sweat beading on her brow. The dozens of messages from Kevin Rudbek, damn the man, were getting to her. She knew she’d done the right thing. She told herself, time and time again, that she’d done the right thing. But they were still wearing her down.
She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache starting to pound behind her temples. There was something reassuringly simple about military life, for all the complexities of modern warfare. The gods of the copybook headings could not be cheated. One either won or lost, with little room in between. She liked the simplicity of naval life—a far cry from the aristocracy, where someone could argue that black was white or that up was down, and rules were nothing more than suggestions to the right connections. She’d met enough people who could twist arguments out of shape, who were very imaginative when it came to finding reasons she should do something and they shouldn’t do something . . . It was easy, terrifyingly easy, to rationalize just about anything if one tried. And she hated such people. Kevin Rudbek was too clever to realize he wasn’t being very smart, or that his people might suffer for his sharp tongue.
Just like all the civilians in the occupied zone, who suffered when the House of Lords started pulling ships and marines out of the territory, Kat thought. The bastards let them suffer to make a political point.
She stood on wobbly legs. She hadn’t felt so bad since her first and last experiment with serious drinking, something that had taught her a lesson she didn’t need to experience time and time again. The mirror seemed too bright, almost, as she stood in front of it and glared at herself. Her body was perfect, but her eyes were tired and worn. She looked as if she could go on forever, yet . . . she needed a rest. She needed . . .
Pat would say I needed something else, Kat thought. And he’d offer to provide it . . .
A wave of despondency rose up, threatening to overwhelm her. She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Pat was dead. Her father was dead. Many of the people she knew and loved were on the wrong side. They thought she was on the wrong side. And that hurt, more than she wanted to admit. She knew she was right. She knew Hadrian was right . . . And she knew there was no way she’d ever be able to convince them of that. People who had power and privilege were prepared to do anything, as long as they didn’t have to give up their status. They never realized they might be part of the problem.
And they never truly realize that other people don’t have their advantages, Kat thought sourly. She’d never realized it herself until she’d gone to Piker’s Peak, which was the first time she’d spent any time with commoners, people who’d grown up outside the aristocracy. She’d never even thought about
their lives until she’d met them. A minor inconvenience to them might be a serious problem to someone else.
She stumbled into the washroom and climbed into the shower. The hot water jarred her awake but didn’t do anything for her headache. She washed herself quickly, wishing she had time for a bath. There was a bath, but . . . normally, she made a point not to use it. The rest of the crew had to make do with showers. She knew they wouldn’t know if she used it or not, but . . . it didn’t matter. She’d know. She wouldn’t feel right about enjoying something the remainder of her crew couldn’t share.
Not that you’d willingly go back to the wardroom, her thoughts mocked her. There are limits, aren’t there, on how much you’re prepared to give up too.
Kat snorted at the thought as she dressed. It was a law of nature, or something, that wardrooms were always tiny, no matter how big the ship. Midshipmen didn’t have enough room to swing a cat, let alone anything else. They practically slept in each other’s bunks. Privacy was nonexistent. She supposed it was as good a way as any other to encourage the midshipmen to strive for promotion. Lieutenants got tiny cabins, but at least they were private.
The intercom chimed. “Admiral,” Kitty said. “A picket just returned. They’re claiming to have spotted a hyperwake approaching Perfuma.”
“Really.” Kat would have been more concerned if there hadn’t been a dozen false alarms over the last few days. “Do they have hard data?”
“The analysts are processing it now,” Kitty said. “The timing does fit though.”
Kat nodded. The report from Tyre had been grim. Two enemy superdreadnought squadrons had departed on a least-time course for Perfuma. They could have changed course and gone somewhere else . . . Possible, but unlikely. The Rudbeks would be calling in every favor they were owed to make sure Kat was quickly chased out of the system. They might even forgo the chance to destroy her ships in their desperation to get rid of her. And there might even be more enemy ships. William was devious. He might have unknowingly copied her trick . . .
Because I did it, she mused, I have to assume that they did it too.
“Raise the alert level,” she ordered as she got dressed. “But don’t sound battlestations. Not yet.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Kitty said. “Should I alert the freighters?”
“Yes,” Kat said. “I want the loaded ships ready for departure as soon as possible. There’s nothing to be gained by keeping them here.”
And the odds of them being intercepted are fairly low. She glanced in the mirror and nodded curtly to herself. She looked professional rather than someone on the verge of bursting into tears. But I’ll have to make sure they’re escorted anyway.
She keyed her terminal, bringing up the near-space display. Interstellar traffic to and from the system had dried up over the last few days as word spread through the StarCom network. A number of interplanetary ships were still moving between the asteroid settlements and Perfuma II, but most had shut down their drives and gone into hiding rather than risk drawing her attention. Kat understood, even though she also knew they probably didn’t have anything worth stealing. The asteroid mining stations weren’t producing anything unusual, and there was no point in trying to capture the interplanetary ships. She’d have problems taking them back to Caledonia.
Unless I wanted to impede industrial development, she mused as she headed out of the cabin and down to the CIC. And they’d certainly have reason to be scared of that.
She stepped into the compartment and looked at the display. “Report.”
“The analysts think there’s a reasonable chance the enemy fleet is nearing the system,” Kitty said calmly. “But they’re not completely sure.”
“Of course not.” Kat took her seat, resting her hands on her lap. “The enemy fleet could still be a few light-years away.”
But she knew, all too well, that might not be true.
“Admiral,” Commander Isa Yagami said. “The scouts have returned. They’ve confirmed the presence of the enemy fleet holding station near Perfuma I.”
“I see,” William said. He frowned, stroking his chin as he studied the reports. He’d assumed Kat would have left days ago, thumbing her nose at the fleet the House of Lords had sent to retake the system. But instead she was still looting the planet. Was she that desperate for supplies? Or was she baiting a trap? “And only one superdreadnought squadron?”
“Yes, sir,” Yagami said. “That’s all we saw leaving Caledonia.”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” William muttered. He’d done everything he could to disguise his fleet as it left Tyre, even though he knew he was probably wasting his time. “If I was worried about uncovering a system”—which he was—“I’d go to some trouble to convince watching eyes that the system was still heavily defended.”
He let out a breath. His orders didn’t give him much wiggle room, even if he was an admiral with a powerful patron. He had to recover the system quickly. Someone was probably going to complain he’d wasted time sending scouts instead of relying on the real-time data from Perfuma. The whole thing just didn’t make sense. Kat wouldn’t have left the StarCom alone accidentally, which meant it was part of a trap . . . and yet, the scouting reports suggested the real-time reports were accurate. He didn’t understand it. The king might not want to set a precedent for destroying StarComs, but they could have easily shut the bloody thing down.
“Alert the fleet,” he ordered. “We’ll go with Tango-Three.”
Yagami looked puzzled even as he carried out his orders. “Yes, sir.”
William chose to explain. “The enemy commander is up to something,” he said. “Maybe she just intends to run as soon as we show our ugly faces, leaving us shaking our fists helplessly after her. Maybe she’s up to something nastier. Either way, I want some room to maneuver if the shit hits the fan.”
“Yes, sir.” Yagami didn’t sound reassured. “The fleet is ready to move on your command.”
“Then let’s go find out what’s waiting for us,” William said. “Take us into the fire.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Kat looked up as red icons blossomed to life on the display. Vortexes. Twenty-seven vortexes. Her eyes narrowed as a sizable enemy fleet flowed into the system, its escorts fanning out and launching probes to scan for cloaked ships. She’d hoped they’d drop out of hyperspace closer to Perfuma itself, even though current circumstances did work in her favor in some ways. She’d have more time to prepare her fleet for the coming engagement.
“Send the ready signal to Task Force Hammer,” she ordered calmly. Perversely, she felt better. The universe had just become a great deal simpler. “And then tell the freighters to leave. They can meet us at the first waypoint.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Kitty said.
Kat nodded, then returned her attention to the enemy fleet. Two superdreadnought squadrons, unless one of them was composed of sensor decoys and drones. Not impossible, although it would be difficult to fake superdreadnoughts pumping out so many targeting pulses. The fleet was shaking down rapidly, as smoothly professional as it had been during the war. Kat felt her heart twist, knowing who was in command of the enemy fleet. William might not be facing her directly, not now, but his influence was clearly visible. He wouldn’t have let aristocrats into high positions without making sure they knew what they were doing.
And he would have been right, Kat thought. She wished William had stayed on Asher Dales, where he’d be out of the civil war. If he wasn’t on the other side . . .
“Admiral, they’re demanding our surrender,” Kitty said. “They want a reply within five minutes.”
“I’m sure they do,” Kat said. “Signal the fleet. We’ll depart as planned.”
She ran through the tactical problem one final time. William, or whoever was really in command, would try to trap her against the planet. Good tactics, except he’d come out of hyperspace too far from the planet to make that possible. She had more than enough time to power up her vortex generators
and jump out of the system before he pinned her down. She wondered, idly, if he’d done that deliberately or if he’d merely decided to be careful. He had a two-to-one advantage, as far as he knew, but that wasn’t enough to guarantee victory.
Our shortage of missiles might be a far more dangerous problem, she thought as the range continued to close. And if he knows how little ammunition we have, he’ll bring his ships into sprint-mode range.
A low quiver ran through the superdreadnought. “Admiral, the fleet is ready,” Kitty reported. “We can depart on your command.”
“Then take us out,” Kat ordered. “Let them see us leaving.”
She waited, feeling the seconds ticking away. The enemy commander wouldn’t expect her to stand and fight. He’d have smelled a rat if she’d tried. But he’d understand her launching missiles at long range for the honor of the flag, if nothing else, before she ran for her life. Funny how civilians thought it was cowardly to retreat if one was seriously outgunned. They wouldn’t be amused if Kat simply retreated at once without firing a single shot.
And neither will the king, Kat thought tiredly. The smarter or more experienced representatives would understand, but the remainder would insist she’d let the House of Lords recapture Perfuma without a fight. We need a victory or two before the coalition fragments completely.
Her heart started to pound as the enemy fleet adjusted course. They’d be heading her off from open space if she didn’t have access to hyperspace. A civilian might not realize that the trap was about as insubstantial as a politician’s promise, but any military officer worthy of the name would. And that would make him a little overconfident, or desperate to bring his guns to bear on her before she escaped. William, or his subordinate, might not realize it, but she was luring him onto a predictable course.
Debt of War (The Embers of War) Page 15