“I don’t like that one damn bit. It doesn’t make any sense,” Gilbert said to the officers crowding around the map. “If the first sighting was valid, they’re going to have to do a radical maneuver to get anywhere close to us at that speed. If the second sighting is valid –“
“The first one could be heading for Roberg, sir,” one of the deck officers volunteered.
“Damn! You’re right, Lieutenant. You’re absolutely right. Mica, send Roberg a Fleet Order for Full Alert. Then notify Nordeen and HOMFLEET Command.”
Mica moved over to the communications console to send the messages, but listend as her father continued.
“If one of the Uke fleets is trying to bypass us, there’s no way we can stop them.” He paused and looked at his officers as though waiting for a response.
“Lieutenant Joygee,” he said to the officer who had suggested that Roberg might be a Uke objective, “I need a volunteer. Not you,” he said holding up his hand, “but the best flying officer we’ve got.”
“That would be Flight Leader Donna, sir. She’s aces above everyone else.”
“Good. Get her up here, on the double. And tell the flight deck to prepare to launch the Reed.”
“The Reed, sir? Isn’t that –“
“My command corvette,” Gilbert finished for him. “Yes, it is, Joygee, and she’s the fastest ship we have. Now get to it.”
“Gentlemen,” he said after Lieutenant Joygee left, “I propose we send Flight Leader Donna out in the Reed to intercept and confirm this bypass line of attack. She won’t be able to do much more than confirm, but at least Roberg will have additional information if that’s the Uke strategy. Any suggestions or comments you would like to offer?”
When there were none, he sent them back to their duties and stared at the map with a growing feeling of desperation. If the Ukes were trying an end run on Roberg, all his assumptions would be proven wrong – and at a cost he did not want to consider.
◊ ◊ ◊
Frye cursed silently. In another fifteen hours Ushogi Fleet would return to normal space and the attack on Matthews system would begin. But according to the report on his microspooler, only ten of his secret missiles had reported from Matthews on the last status check. Somehow Sondak was eliminating his final line of attack.
That he had four missiles to spare gave him little comfort. He wanted more than enough to wreak havoc on Matthews if necessary, and the margin was becoming too thin. Yet he was stuck with the plan he had initiated, and there was nothing he could do to improve the situation.
In a few hours Ely would strike the first of the polar systems with Shakav Fleet in an attempt to draw Sondak’s forces there. If Frye was going to take advantage of that, he could do no more than proceed on schedule and pray for the best.
“But only ten missiles,” he said quietly.
“You called, sir?” Marsha asked from the next room.
Frye had forgotten that his lapelcom was still on. “No, AOCO. I was just thinking out loud. Sorry. I’m going to take a short nap. Wake me in three hours.”
“How about five, sir. You really need some rest.”
“Three will do, AOCO.” He turned off his lapelcom and moved from his desk to his bunk. As he stretched out, he wondered what Sondak’s commanders were doing at this moment and if they would be as determined in their defense as he was in the attack.
The latest intelligence reports were fragmentary and vague about the strength of the fleet Sondak had managed to assemble for the defense of Matthews. Those same reports indicated Admiral Gilbert would be commanding that defense, but Frye seriously doubted that. Sondak’s bureaucratic military wasn’t about to put an old war dog like Gilbert in a defensive command. They would be saving him for some big offensive. No, he would probably be opposed by some junior admiral he had never heard of.
That was a shame. He wouldn’t mind going up against Gilbert and thrashing that old heretic. He wouldn’t mind that at all.
◊ ◊ ◊
“And I’m telling, Admiral, that we made a mistake. LRRS Ninety-Three was right. I don’t know what One-Oh-Two picked up, but it wasn’t the Uke fleet.”
“Then what was it? And why haven’t we heard from One-Oh-Two? They picked up something, Nick.”
“Yes, ma’am, they did. But it wasn’t the Ukes. I’m sure of it. There’s only one Uke fleet, and it’s heading in this direction. I’d bet my life on it.”
“You’d be betting all our lives.” Pajandcan paused. “Somewhere out there we lost seven LRRS, six of them in the same search quadrant – and one of them said it picked up a Uke fleet. But you want me to ignore that. Am I right?” She smiled when Nickerson shook his head in frustration.
“No. But I am saying that all the indications now are that whatever One-Oh-Two picked up was not the main Uke fleet. The data is overwhelming on the other sightings.”
“I think you’re right, Nick, but I wanted to know how sure you were. How far out do you project them now?”
Nickerson looked at the latest printout. “Fifty tachymeters at the farthest. Probably inside that.”
“Then the question becomes one of guessing where they’ll hit normal space.” Pajandcan said quietly. “I want a projection of the total area of normal space they could operate from if they leave subspace on their present course. And I want it fast.”
“Can do, Admiral. Give me two hours.”
“Maximum,” she said quickly. “The sooner the better. We’ve got to move this fleet into position as soon as possible, so don’t take any more time than you have to.
◊ ◊ ◊
General Mari had made the decision to arrive with the first contingent of fresh troops to arrive on Sutton Six in order to make an on-the-spot assessment of the situation.
His only concession to personal comfort on the trip had been to bring his pikean mistress, Gisfelda, with him. But rather than sending her back to Nordeen after they had arrived, he had decided to take her planetside. For all her stupidity, and occasional insolence, she catered to his sexual desires and made life slightly more acceptable for him.
Now he regretted his decision. The main garrison in Esqueleada where he would establish his temporary headquarters was dominated by pikean troops who had hooted and whistled as she emerged from his staff skimmer.
Worse than that, the planetary commander was a pikean.
Pikeans, he thought derisively. How am I supposed to defend a planet with pikeans? With a sigh he left his quarters and headed for the Situation Room. Maybe Sutton could only be the buffer against the Ukes. Maybe he would have to set his hardest line of defense on Bakke.
He locked his jaw with a quick shake of his head. No, Pikeans or not, they were Planetary Troops and he would demand their best. Fight to the death. Those would be his standing orders for every legion on every planet. No quarter asked, none given. No surrender. If the Ukes wanted the planets in these systems, they would have to pay for them.
“Welcome, General,” the tall, pale pikean captain said as Mari entered the foyer of the Situation Room. “General Porras is waiting for you inside.”
Mari returned the captain’s salute without answering and marched through the door.
“Ah, General Mari. I am General Porras. You may not remember me, but I met you once before on –“
“Nice to see you, Porras,” Mari lied as he accepted the other’s handshake. “It was on DeBrin, wasn’t it? Your legion was losing a training exercise against Colonel Ozznich.”
“Your memory is too good, General,” Porras said with a broad smile on his pale face. “But then, you must also remember that we were outnumbered three to one.”
“I remember you held the high ground,” Mari said “and you lost it.” The disappearance of Porras’s smile satisfied him momentarily. “However, that was a training exercise in the past. Now you are about to engage in the real thing – but the Ukes will hold the high ground.”
“We are well aware of that, sir. This arrived from POLFLEET m
oments before you did. I’ve deployed our fighters.”
Mari took the message and read it quickly. “How many?”
“A little under three hundred waiting off the second moon, sir. Our cruisers and destroyers are holding behind the first moon with another hundred reserve fighters.”
“How’s your fuel supply?”
“Most of the ships have about forty hours of methane.”
“They’ll kill us,” Mari said softly. “If POLFLEET is right the Ukes have a force that will chew up your fighters in the first skirmish.”
“Maybe so, sir, but with the reinforcements you brought –“
“Dammit, Porras! What the hell’s the matter with you? Those reinforcements are still being shuttled planetside. Our destroyer escort is preparing to leave any minute and –“
A loud siren interrupted him.
For a long moment he stared at Porras as the siren faded and rose again. “Where’s the communications room?” he asked finally.
“Through here,” Porras said, leading the way.
“We’ve got them on the scope,” a tech said as the two generals entered the room. “They’re coming around Dimdim and – damn, sir!”
They both stepped behind the tech and stared at the scope. From behind the solid shadow of Sutton’s eighth planet came a Uke force that looked like a swarm of starving locusts.
“Orders!” Mari barked with a twisting knot in his stomach. “To all units: No surrender! We fight to the death!”
24
ROCHMON STOOD WITH ADMIRAL STONEFIELD and Avitor Hilldill as the latest reports from Gilbert and Pajandcan came in by way of Mungtinez Relay.
“Roberg!” Stonefield whistled softly when he read Gilbert’s Fleet Alert. “How soon before we can get a com-window to Roberg?”
“Eleven days, two hours,” Rochmon said after glancing at the synchronization readouts, “but I don’t think Commander Charltos is going to –“
“Well, Hilldill?” Stonefield asked, ignoring Rochmon’s comment. “Can your Flight Corps there defend Roberg? Because if they can’t…”
“Depends on the odds, sir. I told you that after General Mari left. Roberg has most of the best forces we have left. If they can’t do it, no one can. But if they took quite a beating, and if they’re outnumbered –“
“I know. I know. None of us can do much when we’re outnumbered.” Stonefield took a deep breath. “That’s what’s wrong with this damn system of ours,” he said quietly. “We train people to believe they can be defeated just because the odds are against them.”
“Sir,” Rochmon said slowly, “seems to me we’re overlooking something.” He did not want to anger Stonefield, but the admiral seemed to have missed the point.
“What’s that, Commander?”
Despite his sense of caution, Rochmon was neither afraid of the old man, nor of speaking his mind. “Well, sir, we don’t know for sure that the Ukes are headed for Roberg. Admiral Gilbert makes it clear that he is operating on an assumption. However, now that we have bolstered the Flight Corps at Roberg., couldn’t we use some of them to reinforce POLFLEET?”
“And strip Roberg’s defenses?”
“That is insane,” Hilldill added.
“You’d better stick to cryptography, Commander, and leave tactics to us. Send this to Roberg by relay. Tell them they are on their own and will have to hold out as long as they can.”
“Yes, sir,” Rochmon heard no real censure in stonefield’s voice, and after a moment’s hesitation, he decided it was better to press his point than to miss the opportunity. “But suppose Roberg isn’t attacked? I mean, suppose that turns out to be a false alarm?”
“You heard me, Commander,” Stonefield said, “Avitor Hilldill and I will be in the Command Center. Pipe all further communications of note in there.”
“Yes, sir,” Rochmon said again as they left the Situation Room. “You bet, sir,” he whispered to himself.
Damn admirals and generals thought they knew everything. But they didn’t know Charltos. He wasn’t about to risk an attack on Roberg until he had secured Matthews. Even the Efcorps had been able to figure that out. For a bunch of snoopy civilians, Rochmon thought, they had done a better job of assessing the overall strategic situation than Stonefield.
“Sutton window in ten minutes,” the tech said. “Stand by for incoming reports.”
Mari’s landing reports, Rochmon thought. Ought to pipe them in to Stonefield and put him to sleep. No one could write as boring a report as Mari.
◊ ◊ ◊
Lucky read the operating monitors with growing concern. Graycloud’s engine was running hotter than normal subspace temperatures, and even though the increase wsan’t serious yet, Lucky wasn’t interested in taking any chances.
“You ever tinker with a Gouldrive?” he asked Morning Song.
“No,” the Oinaise replied. “I am a chemical analyst, not a mechanic or a physicist.”
“I know what you are. I just thought maybe –“
“There is no need for rudeness, Captain Teeman. When my father directed me to join you, he said you were an exceptional human. I doubted that at the time, and your present attitude makes me question his assessment.”
“You’re a touchy bastard,” Lucky said with a smile, “but I apologize anyway. My concern is for our mission and the fact that the Gouldrive is running hot. I know how to fix minor things on the drive and do the usual maintenance – even centered the damn thing once. But if this heat buildup is serious, I just wanted to know if you could help.”
“I appreciate your concern, Captain Teeman, and your apology is accepted. What recourse do we have if this is indeed a critical malfunction?”
Lucky liked Delightful Childe’s son better when he was being practical and put his xenopathy aside. “We would have to find the closest system where we could get it checked – and fixed if necessary.”
“Where would that be?”
The genuine interest he heard in Morning Song’s voice made Lucky feel better. At least his Oinaise companion was beginning to appreciate the situation. “Let’s see,” he said as he keyed in a navigation library search and waited for the readout. “From the looks of it, the closest one would be the Matthews system. That’s one of Sondak’s outpost systems and about two days away at this speed.”
“Perhaps we should notify my father.”
“Your father’s busy making babies.” Lucky meant that as a joke, but he didn’t think Morning Song appreciated his attempt at humor. “Anyway, no sense in worrying him unless we actually have to break off our rotue. In the meantime, we’ll just watch the drive carefully and see what happens.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Only half the sophisticated sensors on the launchship McQuay had been repaired before it was called back into service, but one set which was working picked up the faint search scan that its operators immediately identified as a typical Uke frequency. They traced its brief course across the static on their screens, then reported it to the Battle Center.
“Sir,” Mica said, “I think the Ukes may have spotted us. The sensor team picked up a search scan.”
“Do they still have it?”
“Negative, sir. Whoever it was popped back into subspace.”
“Notify the fleet and tell Pajandcan that we’re moving to our secondary position in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Mica quickly relayed his instructions, then paused as several new reports came over her earphones. “The Reed is beginning its second warp, Admiral. No contact with –“ She stopped talking and listened in dismay to the voice in her earphone. Without waiting to hear all of it, she switched it to the overhead speakers.
“ – attack fleet size. Sutton already under fire. Repeat. Sutton under fire. All forces engaged. General Mari requests all available –“
A ferocious burst of static held the Battle Center in suspense for a long ten seconds.
“ – broken through…estimates full scale landing within five hours…help beyo
nd the reserves…standing orders to fight to the death. No surrender. Repezzzzz – “
The voice trailed off through the static. After a long moment of listening to the insane crackle, Mica switched off the speakers. Silence held the McQuay’s Battle Center as still as a funeral service.
“Back to your stations,” Admiral Gilbert said finally. “The most we can do is pray for them.” He said his own quick prayer as he tried to visualize what Sutton must be going through. Those were his people under fire. A momentary pang of guilt for not being with them jabbed at his thoughts. Then it disappeared in a deeper concern.
How many Uke fleets were there? One attacking the polar systems, one headed for Roberg, and one for Matthews? Three fleets? It didn’t seem possible they could have amassed that many ships. But if they had, which was the main fleet?
Or were they of equal strength? If that was the case, they would probably sweep through the first group of polar systems without effort. POLFLEET was stretched like a highly permeable membrane across its quadrant of responsibility. That mismatched set of ships and men he had so lovingly commanded might be able to conduct a harassing action. But in no case could POLFLEET confront a full-scale Uke battle fleet directly.
If he had guessed wrong, if Matthews was not the primary target, he and his advice would be responsible for millions of deaths in open space and half-a-set of systems – deaths of friends and colleagues, people he had come to know and love during his years of isolated command. Yet beyond that grief, it could mean a military setback from which Sondak might never recover.
Gilbert had to believe he had guessed right. There would be time enough later for second guessing himself and the Joint Chiefs. Time enough if we make it through this, he thought.
“Admiral Pajandcan’s moving her fleet, sir.” Mica could see the concentration in her father’s brow, and knew he was thinking about POLFLEET as well as Sutton.
“Did she receive the Sutton transmission?”
“Yes, sir. She said the Ukes will have to fight like hell to beat General Mari at anything.”
◊ ◊ ◊
“Sighting of Sondak’s defense fleet confirmed,” Marsha said. “They’re laying back on the fringe of the system.”
Double Spiral War Trilogy Page 24