“What do you want me to do, then?” he asked indifferently.
“I hope you could stop those freighters for a thorough custom inspection. And make sure no more freighters are let in from the RB for the next few days.”
“Well …” He tapped the table with the edge of a photo. “If my sister were indeed behind this, I wouldn’t want to do anything to upset her.”
Geneva smiled. “How lovely it is to have a brother’s support! I hope it remains the case after she becomes the queen.”
Edwards’s mouth twitched slightly but stayed shut.
“I’m sure since the dinner yesterday, nobody in our system will do business with her anymore. And we always remember who help us during the tough time. But if we all end up being Thyphol’s colonies, that’s another story.”
“Sweetheart,” Melissa said softly, leaning over to Edwards. “If you really care about Isabella, you should stop her before she makes more mistakes. Honestly, I didn’t know she invited Pompey to our wedding … What if your father finds out? It wouldn’t do good to his health.”
Edwards mused for another moment and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
When she came back to find Matthew, she was told that he had left for lunch. She checked the reception room where an all-day buffet was provided by the host but didn’t see him. Fine, she was also hungry. She filled up a dish quickly and sat down at a table. A sunny smile emerged on her face when she saw the broccoli on her dish.
“Another brother at home?” Terence’s voice resounded in her head. “And he looks exactly like me?”
“Yes,” she said when they were having breakfast in her hotel room. “When you see him you would think you were looking into a mirror.”
For a while, he simply blinked at the air in front of him. “Does he also hate broccoli?”
She immerged herself in reminiscence until she heard Pompey’s voice overhead, “Mind if I join you?”
She looked up and saw him holding a plate of fruit. Frankly speaking, she didn’t hate him much when she was a captive, but now she blamed Mason’s tragedy on him. Yes, the more she could blame on him, the less on herself. But she was also curious to find out what he wanted to say. So she pushed her plate away and gestured him to sit down.
“Good job catching my freighters!” he said. “Could you tell me how your people figured it out?”
Thinking of Sterling made her feel proud, but she wasn’t going to tell Pompey. “If I were you, Pompey, I’d start applying for permanent residence here.”
He laughed. “Isn’t it too early to predict who’d end up homeless? I don’t think you have a complete view of the situation, Geneva. Why don’t you come over to my room and take a look?”
She was tempted. Pompey definitely had better communication with his home system, but … wouldn’t it be weird to walk into the enemy’s headquarters during an ongoing battle?
“My door will remain open to you for a while.” He stood up. “But I might have to seal it later.”
The word seal made her utterly uneasy. She had a feeling that he was talking about the Trawtle. After a moment’s hesitation she decided to take a look. She followed him to his room and stopped in front of a large screen. At first, she thought the situation map was similar to the one Wilson just showed her, except for the small group of enemies hiding behind the exit of the pathway. On closer examination of the two major battlefields, however, she was confused. Those two areas were uniformly marked with the same color, which meant they shouldn’t be called “battlefields.”
“Where …” She turned around to locate Pompey, who was sitting in an armchair with a glass of wine. “Where are the rebels?”
“There are no rebels, not anymore.” He was satisfied with her reaction. “You guys should’ve come two weeks ago. What you’ve been watching lately were pretend plays.”
“Pretend …”
“The Colonial Rebellion has long ended.”
Chapter 27
Quiet.
As the Sunpherean Second Fleet proceeded toward RB-4’s orbit where the major colonial forces were engaged with Thypholian troops, uneasiness took over Oakley’s heart. He hadn’t been to a battlefield since he was promoted Admiral six years ago, but he remembered the feeling, the “right” feeling during an ongoing battle, an inherent tension balanced by trained relaxation, which had always accompanied him even when he closed himself in a cabin. A battle was supposed to be bustling and noisy. Quietness, unless deliberately planned by our own strategists, was never a good sign.
“Stop marching!”
His unexpected command almost startled the officers around him. Inquiring gazes fell on him from all directions. He didn’t explain. He didn’t know how. A low-pitch sound and small vibrations prevailed inside the Levitation as its nuclear powered propellers reversed to make a stop. Through the large front window, he saw ripples spreading in the river of warships ahead of him as his command was carried out. Away from the river, the sun-facing part of the icy Planet RB-5 glittered like a gigantic blue blade.
“Is RB-5 cleared?” Oakley asked an officer at his side. It should have been, but he couldn’t resist double-checking.
“Yes, sir. Our scouts detected no suspicious activity at the surface.”
“Admiral!” Somebody ran up from behind. “Rear Admiral Benvenutto of Treagium sent us a warning. His squadron was ambushed by some type of … invisible objects.”
Oakley frowned. “How did that happen?” He took over a printed graph from the person and studied it. It was a snapshot of a hundred or so warships marching in one direction. Those symbols colored in red represented the damaged ships. Strangely, the attack didn’t occur at the front of the queue, which would be the case for a normal encounter. It happened at the middle where most of the important ships were located.
So it must be the Needles, Oakley remembered the information Geneva had brought back from Thyphol. Luckily they were prepared. “Fire three Flickers,” he said. “If you see anything suspicious, don’t waste time reporting to me. And remind our ships to shade their windows.”
The Flickers were Sunphere’s newly designed star shells that emitted intensive lights with time-varying spectra. Even through the darkened window, Oakley could see the ships around him flashing as if going through a thunderstorm. “Hidden objects identified!” he heard people shouting in the background. He moved away from the window and stopped in front of a wall-mounted screen. There was an array of needle-shaped warships waiting ahead, about thirty of them, only a thousand feet away from his vanguard. Of course, once those needles started firing, they would be exposed, but the damage would have already been made.
He left the monitor and sat down in his chair. His officers would take care of the rest of the fight. As the chief commander he shouldn’t be occupied with details. The uneasiness still lingered in his mind, and he had to figure out what it was.
“Sir, should we also pass the warning to the colonial fleets?”
The colonial fleets … Oakley gazed at the officer in front of him. “When the Hunglevians left, did they take this route?”
“Yes, sir.”
Then why weren’t they ambushed? “We need to send a message to our allies.” He stood up. “And contact headquarters. The whole thing—”
A train of urgent warning signals interrupted him. He turned to the situation map and saw a red arrow originating from Planet RB-5 and pointing at his Sixth and Seventh Squadrons located in the middle of the procession.
“How’d that happen?” he yelled, losing his temper. “Wasn’t that planet cleared?”
His question was not answered until a minute later. “We checked the surface, sir, but the enemy’s coming out from underground.”
From underground … Oakley clenched his teeth as he thought of Pompey. That maniacal hawk! They were supposed to beat him this time!
“Third Central Fleet,” he heard someone reporting. “Estimated first contact in twelve minutes.”
But soon the enemy seemed to have decoded his intention. Instead of chasing the runaway middle squadrons, they veered sideways to attack the third squadron, apparently hoping to take some advantage before the Sunphereans could gather their forces.
“Our planes are ready to detach in two minutes, sir.”
Oakley nodded. This was not what he had imagined at the beginning of this battle, but if it were meant to be this way, they could still manage the fight.
“Sir, the First Central Fleet is coming in our direction from RB-4’s orbit,” someone else said. “Estimated contact in forty-five minutes.”
On the map Oakley saw a large blue cloud moving toward them from where they were initially heading. His heart fell into an abyss. That was not a fight they could manage!
* * *
When Geneva came back from the enemy’s headquarters, she was told that Admiral Wilson was waiting on the line.
“We need reinforcement from our allies, ma’am. Our Second Fleet is besieged by enemies twice their number.”
“It’s a trap, sir. They should all come back immediately.”
“If only they could!” The speaker on the wall vibrated with Wilson’s voice. “We knew it’s a trap, but everybody was stuck there.”
Geneva knew what he meant. To withdraw from a battle you could not simply run away. A good time to do it is right after you throw a hard punch, or when you and your enemy are both tired.
“Is there something I could do, sir?”
“If you are willing to point a gun at Matthew’s head, ma’am! His three fleets are still waiting at the Stony Band, and they are about to go home.”
Nodding, Geneva said quietly. “I see, but a gun wouldn’t be enough.” Then she raised her voice. “If I can get the Sparklish to keep their promise, what else do we need?”
“We’ll need the fortress to cover us up. It’ll take a while for everyone to go back through the pathway. Perfect time for the enemy to take advantage.”
She moved over to a different communication screen. “Connect me to the fortress. I need to speak to Admiral Silverman.”
Soon Silverman’s face appeared in front of her.
“Admiral Silverman, I want you to turn the fortress sideways to face the Sparklish fleets.”
The large starfish on a nearby situation map gradually made the turn.
“Now fire two missiles at them. Try not to hit anything. But if one of their ships happens to be in the way, it’s all right.”
Silverman frowned briefly but didn’t question the order. “Yes, ma’am.”
A few minutes later, Matthew broke into the room. “Geneva! What the hell are you people doing?”
“What are you people doing?” She turned around to look at him.
“It’s a trap!” He was almost jumping up and down. “They should all come back right away! There is no point in sending over more preys knowing that the—”
“I don’t have time to argue with you, Matthew. You ask your ships to depart for the Trawtle, now. Every single one of them! If not, whatever percentage of my soldiers come back they will treat you as their next target; your country will become our chief enemy until either of us goes to hell! Am I clear with myself?”
“You …” Matthew stumbled backwards, appalled. “Are you … threatening me?”
“I’m begging you, if that makes you feel better.”
“Jesus!” He shook his head. Then he looked around the room with the kind of sympathy a saint had for innocent but foolish people. “Fine, who could stay sane when the world has gone wild? I’ll send my troops over. Otherwise you guys will think of me as a coward. But you will learn your lesson, young lady. Mark my words!”
He gazed at her for a few seconds and headed out of the room.
* * *
However, when the Sparklish fleets tried to enter the enemy’s system through the pathway, they found the other end had been sealed.
“Sealed?” Geneva asked in perplexity.
Wilson nodded on the screen. “Our enemy has apparently regained control of the Trawtle. They put a gigantic metal grid at the exit. If our ships were given enough time, several of them should be able to push it away, but as soon as they got close, they received heavy fire through the grid. Sparkland has lost half a dozen ships by now.”
Great! Geneva said to herself. Now Matthew had his excuse. “What shall we do then?” she asked.
“We could try to bump it away,” said Silverman on another screen. “The fortress should be able to sustain the fire for a while.”
“But Captain Presley is on his way to the fortress,” Geneva said.
“We don’t have time to wait for him, ma’am!” Wilson said firmly. “And we need the fortress for our retreat.”
Then he would have to enter the fortress inside the RB, Geneva thought. The Pathway Escorts were not meant for traveling through battlefields. “Okay. I’ll get back to you soon.”
She walked over to a phone and talked to Charlie briefly. After a while Sterling’s image appeared on the screen. She looked at his face and felt the fluttering of her heart. I’m with Terence now! She wanted to tell him. I’m bringing him home! And how was your mother doing?
“Captain Presley,” she asked, “how soon do you expect to arrive at the Stony Band?”
Sterling spoke to the crew behind him and turned back to her. “In less than five hours, ma’am.”
She explained the situation to him. “You’ll have to meet the fortress inside the RB, then.”
He didn’t seem to have heard her. Something was bothering him.
“Is there a problem?”
“The fortress should have no problem breaking through, but Pompey must have known that. I’m just wondering … why would he bother to seal the pathway?”
Geneva blinked. That sounded like a good question, but she couldn’t answer it. “Let me connect you to Admiral Silverman. Maybe you two could figure out a strategy.”
And take care of yourself. She said to him in her head as she watched the screen flashing into blankness.
Chapter 28
Vice Admiral Rafael Tait, now the combatant commander of the Thypholian Third Imperial Fleet, was standing in the bridge of his flagship and waiting for further instructions from Admiral Bobbins. Since the destruction of the Storm Center during the Battle of the New Pathway, the emperor had decided not to use a centralized commanding system, but they hadn’t quite worked out a similarly efficient structure. Now each combatant commander had a lot more freedom than before. Still, any major maneuver of the fleet must be issued by higher levels.
Through the window he saw a huge metal grid in the distance. The image behind the grid clearly mismatched the surrounding starfield—it was created by the transmission of an interstellar Pathway. That was Rafael’s target, and the target of the two hundred planes and fifty warships forming the hemisphere around the exit of the Trawtle.
Well, that was the emperor’s target. The fortress. Pompey was taking it personally—everybody could tell that—after the Battle of the New Pathway and the recent futile attack. Now they kind of knew there was some “gravity” thing going on, but the Thypholians couldn’t figure out a way to counteract it. Not before they knew what it was! In fact, Rafael suspected that the major goal of this battle was to get rid of the fortress.
He snapped to attention as Bobbins’s face appeared on a screen. Although they were both combatant commanders, Bobbins ranked higher than him, and needless to say, Bobbins’s Fifth Central Fleet was considered more superior than his force.
“We have evidence that Target will try to break in soon, Admiral Tait,” said Bobbins. “Please tell your captains to open fire at the sight of anything coming out of the pathway. Remember, do not aim at any part of the fortress. Fire as randomly as they could.”
“Sir.” Rafael moved closer to the screen. “I think we should take a look at the object before …” He didn’t finish the sentence as he saw the suspicion and contempt in Bobbins’s eyes. This wasn’t the first time he met that type of look after he came here, although the emperor seemed to trust him.
“This is the order I received directly from His Majesty,” Bobbins said with dignity. “We know it will be the fortress, and we can’t wait for it to unfold and deploy its … tricks.”
Swellhead! People who forget to be prudential at battlefields always pay bitter prices. Knowing further objections would not be taken seriously, Rafael passed the order along to his captains.
They waited quietly for a while. Then something large emerged from the pathway at a high speed and bumped the grid away. No, it wasn’t right. “Check fire!” he shouted, but the missiles were already on their way. The object exploded into numerous pieces, shot off in all directions, and smashed into his planes and ships. It couldn’t be metal. It was probably a mini asteroid.
Almost falling to the shaking floor, Rafael grabbed a bar mounted on the wall and regained his balance. The carrier he was in could easily sustain the impact of flying stones, but some of his planes must have been damaged. He leaned over to the window, trying to take another look at the pathway, but the visibility was low as the dust storm raved in the nearby space. Then he saw several beams of bright light penetrating the mist, and a large black silhouette stretching out like a blossoming flower. One of the lights was aiming right at his direction. Damn it! He ran to the control panel. There was no time to contact the conning officer, but fortunately these new carrier models offered the admiral direct maneuver of the ship. Shortly after he pushed the lever to move the ship downwards, an alarm beeped from the damage-report screen. The top of the ship was hit several times, but it could have been much worse had he not acted quickly.
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