“Then you ought to ask Mari, too. If he’s still alive.” She turned without waiting for a response and left the Command Center.
“There’s another problem, sir,” Rochmon said. “The Efcorps is screaming for more information, and I’m afraid its representatives are looking for someone with more authority than Captain Carpenter.”
“Let the damn civilians look till they turn green. I have more important things to do than to brief them.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you do it, sir, but I thought –“
“Admiral Lindshaw,” Stonefield said suddenly. “That ought to satisfy them.”
“Only for a while,” Rochmon said. “The civies are getting hungry and mad. They seem to think it’s their war, too.”
“Commander…”
“I know, Admiral. You want me to watch my tongue.”
“On the contrary,” Stonefield said with a strange smile, “I want you to be the briefing officer for Efcorps.”
“But, sir, I wouldn’t –“
“That’s an order, Commander. If you’re so damned concerned about the civies, you talk to them.”
“Aye, sir.” As he returned to the Situation Room, Rochmon fought hard to suppress a grin. He would indeed talk to the Efcorps, and to representatives from the TriCameral and the Combined Committees, but he did not think Stonefield would like what he was going to tell them. No, he wouldn’t like it at all.
But then, people of Stonefield’s rank seemed to have a natural prejudice against telling the truth to civilians. They didn’t trust the common citizens much – nor did they give them credit for much intelligence. Rochmon wondered what it really must have been like when civilian leaders actually had control of the military. Those must have been great and wonderful times for civilians and military alike.
“First reports from Matthews are coming in, sir,” a tech said, interrupting his thoughts. “All forces appear to have engaged the Ukes.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Missile after missile found its mark before the Ukes rallied and returned fire on Admiral Gilbert’s nonrevertor force. At the front of the cone-shaped formation, McQuay took the brunt of the initial fire and rocked time and again as explosions ripped into its massive armor.
“Damage Control, sir,” a sweaty young captain said as he stepped up to Gilbert. “We’ve lost three engines, sir, and had to shut down two others. Sections eighty-one through eighty-seven and both rear launch bays have been breached. We have –“
Another explosion shook the deck.
“Go on, Captain,” Gilbert said grimly.
“We have moved the Fire control line back to section seventy-nine, but I think we’re going to lose her, sir.”
“How soon, Captain?”
“Three hours at best, sir.”
“Very good, Captain. Keep me posted. Mica!”
“Here, sir.”
“Order shipout of all nonessential personnel. I want everyone not directly involved with fire, navigation, communications, or power off this ship in one hour. When that’s done, inform the Janet that she will assist in the final evacuation. Now get to it.”
The McQuay shuddered and bucked, knocking Mica to the deck. As she pulled herself back up she saw her father lying with a gash across his forehead. But even as she moved toward him, he waved her off. “Shipout, Mica,” he said as someone helped him to a sitting position. “Clear this ship.”
27
“TWO MORE SHIPS DESTROYED, COMMANDER, launchship Quesque and heavy cruiser Denora. Moro Ree is still running on reduced power and out of action. Attack flights One through Six are returning for reload.”
“How many fighters returning in those flights?”
“Latest count is…uh…three hundred-twelve, sir.”
“Out of seven-twenty? Impossible! Get a recount!”
“That is a recount…sir.”
Frye shook his head sadly. Four hundred ships? Lost so quickly? Five launchships crippled or destroyed? What had he done wrong?
“New enemy attackers approaching from quadrant seven, sir.”
“Trukken? How many defenders do you have left?”
“Two hundred naggers and over ninety timinos of swarm flights. But some of them are coming in now for refueling and rearmament.”
“Damn! Tech, what’s the count on the new attackers?”
“Looks like about two hundred, sir.”
“Trukken,” Frye said without hesitation, “the naggers will have to hold while the swarm flights refuel. AOCO, order the fleet to close formation. And tell the returning timinos to split and reload aboard Nesiniah, Hondono, and Poul I want High Victory and Beamon prepared to receive flights Seven, Eight and Nine.” Or what’s left of them, he thought grimly.
“What about the Lann, sir?”
A sudden tremor passed through Hondono as it took a hit from the new attackers.
“That’s our reserve, AOCO, and we –“
The deck dropped slightly then slammed against his feet. Only the combat straps kept him in his chair. “Close the formation!” he shouted. “Now!” In the back of his mind he knew h emight have to use his secret missiles. He only hoped there were enough of them left to do the job.
◊ ◊ ◊
Dawson was too busy to be relieved after the Ukes ceased their bombardment. As he marshaled the fragments of his forces to prepare for a second attack he was sure would come, he was interrupted by casualty reports, loss counts, damage assessments, and requests for instructions from every part of his command.
“Admiral Gilbert for you, sir!” a voice rang through the babble in the Command Center.
Dawson made his way to the transceiver and was surprised to see Gilbert smiling at him. “Dawson here, sir.”
“Well done,” Gilbert’s fuzzy voice said seconds later. “We are retreating to assist you.”
“Where are they now, sir?”
“Their fighters are dispersed, at least momentarily, and ours are chasing them. We’ll hold at position alpha-one to try and recover our ships as they come back in. Are you ready for a second attack?”
“Hell, no, Admiral. I lost two-thirds of my firepower, and seventy-five percent of my ships were either knocked out of action or destroyed in the first attack. We’ve got casualties we haven’t even located yet, and –“
“The Ukes got the worst of it, Dawson. You did a fine job – a damn fine job. Anyway, we should be in position in approximately one-five-five minutes. We’re a little crippled up, too, but we’re on our way.”
“Good, sir,” Dawson said as he scribbled a note on the pad a captain held in front of him. He couldn’t stop giving instructions just because he was talking to Gilbert. “How about Admiral Pajandcan?”
“She is still observing communications silence, and she has to pick up her fighters before she can move her fleet. If you –“
The transceiver went suddenly silent except for the ever-present buzz of static. Just as suddenly an unidentified voice blared through the speakers.
“The McQuay just blew! The McQuay just blew! Retreat to alpha-one. All ships! Retreat to alpha-one!
◊ ◊ ◊
“ – weak resistance…halo defenses…like they’re pulling in their fi –“
Even through the crackling static Pajandcan could tell that her pilots felt they were winning this part of the battle. If they could keep up the pressure – at least until the nonrevertors were in place – Reckynop might stand a chance of survival. But what about Gilbert? What happened to him? The intensity of her concern surprised her.
“ – aunchships heavily damaged…losing swarm fighters everywhere to…aking them in but not launching…close and attack! Close and attack!”
Pajandcan decided it was time to break communications silence. She needed to know if Gilbert was still alive. Before she could do anything, a new voice dominated the transceiver.
“Flight Leader Gamma to base! Attention, base! They’re turning! They’re turning! By damn, the bastards are going to run for it!”
/> Gamma’s voice came in over the open fleet channel, loud and clear and sweet to Pajandcan’s ears.
“Confirm that, Gamma,” she said as she grabbed the mike.
“Confirmed, Admiral!” Gamma shouted long seconds later. “They’re pulling in their fighters and turning away from Matthews and pointing toward home.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Frye stared blankly past the activity around him until his gaze narrowed and focused on the red panel that covered the controls to his final resource. He did not know how many of the massive neutronic devices remained in the Matthews system, but he was prepared to use them all.
Thousands, maybe millions of civilians would die, and Frye knew that once that would have mattered to him. Once his heart would have been wrenched by such a decision. Now there was nothing left of that softness that might have weakened him when he most needed to be strong.
Vinita was gone. Melliman was gone. Marsha was learning to hate him. He could see it in her eyes.
With a quiet sigh of relief Frye released his combat straps and stood up. He was bound to no one now. He was ready and free to devote all his energy to winning this war. Consequently it was time to unleash the final destruction on Reckynop.
Marsha watched as her father walked calmly to the communications section, took out a small key, and unlocked a narrow red panel.
“May I ask what that is?”
“Yes. In case of defeat,” he said, pointing to a small black switch, “flip this switch and Reckynop will become a water planet – of little use to anyone.”
Before Marsha could say anything, he moved the switch with a fierceness that surprised her.
From that panel a coded message went out to the remaining neutronic missiles waiting in Matthews system.
◊ ◊ ◊
At Drautzlab another reciprocal action experiment destroyed half a million credits worth of equipment, and Sjean wondered if they would ever be able to build something that really was a working weapon – much less the Ultimate Weapon.
28
THE FLOODWATERS ON RECKYNOP had risen one hundred fifty meters in less than two days. Forty-nine major coastal cities and uncounted numbers of towns and villages, some as far as five hundred kilometers inland, had disappeared under the deluge. Millions of people had drowned, and millions more were stranded on eleven continents – isolated on high ground, surrounded by water they could not drink, and slowly starving to death.
Even with all the assistance the military could give them, the civil authorities knew that millions more would die before they could be rescued or assisted. Reports of rioting, looting and mass hysteria were commonplace amid the frantic requests for assistance that overwhelmed every remnant of authority. Whole regions had no authority at all and were totally out of contact with the rest of the world. The grim truth was that Reckynop had barely survived the explosions above the poles – survived at a cost that would take decades to fully evaluate.
Mica sat in the grim meeting with her father and Admiral Dawson and Pajandcan in the temporary government headquarters on Reckynop high above the still-rising waters. It seemed more than a little incredible to her that they were all together.
“We thought we’d lost you then,” Pajandcan said looking at Gilbert with more affection than she had felt for anyone in a long, long time.
“The Janet just hadn’t gotten far enough away before we blew the McQuay. We lost half of our communications. But we had to do it then. The Ukes were closing on her and it was McQuay’s chance to take some more of them with her into the void.”
“Well, you sure scared the hell out of us, Admiral.”
Gilbert smiled slightly, but there was no pleasure in his mind. Over twenty-one thousand defenders had died in the battle for Matthews system.
Dawson guessed that two of the Uke neutronic devices had exploded over the northern ice cap, and in addition to the flooding, there was a serious question about whether or not Reckynop’s orbit had been altered.
“What about that civilian ship?” Pajandcan asked.
“An Oinaise freighter, piloted by one of our citizens, a homo communis named, uh, Benjamin Holybear Teeman. Had some problems with their Gouldrive and tried to come here for help,” Dawson said. “We interrogated him and his Oinaise companion – politely, of course. Their story checks out and seems to be legitimate.”
Gilbert sighed. “Give them what help you can, and get them out of here. And inform Oina. Let’s avoid any diplomatic hassle with Oina if we can.”
“Any further word from Sutton, sir?”
After a nod from her father, Mica answered Admiral Pajandcan’s question. “The Ukes have control of the system, and about half of the major cities on Sutton itself.” She paused at the thought of what that meant, but swallowed hard and continued, “But we’re still getting reports of heavy resistance by our Planetary Troops and guerilla action from them and the civies.”
“Mari’s standing order,” Pajandcan said with a shake of her head. “He’s a tough old dirtsider.”
“We’d all better be as tough as Mari,” Gilbert said. “We may have held Charltos out of Matthews, but we haven’t even begun to fight the war. Unless I miss my guess, Charltos will attack us somewhere else as quickly as possible.”
“A full –scale campaign through the Polar systems?”
“Quite likely, Dawson. Quite likely.” Josiah Gilbert would have given almost anything he had at that moment to rush to assist POLFLEET and take some pressure of Mari and Sutton. However, he accepted the fact that there was almost nothing he could do in that direction until the Joint Chiefs could assess the damages from all the engagements. But he was determined to let them know that he wanted to go back to his old command.
The satisfaction of saving Matthews was grim in the face of the long struggle he was sure they all face. Whatever joy he might have felt was destroyed by the terrible losses Reckynop had suffered. Yet Gilbert felt a sense of pride that could not be destroyed by the blood and death that surrounded him.
They had beaten the Ukes in their first major confrontation – outguessed them and beaten them in ship-to-ship battle. Whatever the cost, the victory itself would do more for Sondak’s morale and long-term chances of success than any trillion credits worth of ships and missiles. Now if every citizen of Sondak could take that victory as inspiration, the federation’s chance of holding its own in this war would be much improved.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Unavoidably delayed by the hostilities? Is that all the reason the soulless Oinaise gives?”
“Yes, Proctor,” Weecs said quietly. “We do know there was a major battle between Sondak and the Central Systems. But the message indicates that their delay is only temporary.”
“It is just as well, my lover. The longer it takes them the better. I will soon be proud to bear your guplings.”
“But so soon? I thought –“
“As soon as I could,” Leri said, curling around him. “Let the humans kill each other, and let the Oinaise die without souls to carry them forward. All I want is you.”
“You have me,” he said, matching his body to hers. “But soon you will have to deal with the new agriculture chairman from Sondak and provide him with –“
“Hush. Do I have you now or not?” she asked as she curled her body more tightly around him.
“You have me for as long as you want me.”
“Good,” she whispered as she caught the scent of his growing desire for her. “Later you must send the Oinaise a message telling them we accept the delay.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Ayne Wallen stuffed one piece of gorlet into his mouth after another as Xindella talked to Judoff on the transceiver. Ayne’s desperate hunger made it difficult to concentrate on what they were saying.
“Do I understand you correctly?” Xindella asked. “You want me to ship him to the Castorians on Juene?”
“That is correct.”
“Such an operation would be even more expensive than we first d
iscussed.”
“Ten thousand credits in advance, and twenty more when he is delivered. Will that satisfy you?”
“Plus expenses,” Xindella added.
There was a long pause. “Plus expenses,” Judoff said finally. “How soon can we have him?”
“I do not know, my old friend, but assuredly in the very near future.”
“One month, or the contract is void.”
“As you wish…Marshall Judoff,” Xindella said to the empty screen. “As you wish.”
None of the conversation meant anything to Ayne. Nothing at all meant anything to him these days except the gorlet and his hate for Xindella.
29
ROCHMON FELT A TREMENDOUS SENSE of relief that stayed with him for days after he found out that Mica Gilbert was safe. He was careful not to analyze that feeling too much, but instead just allowed himself the pleasure of it. Despite all the terrible reports from Matthews and Sutton – despite the fact that it looked like it would take a long time for Sondak to respond with the kind of industrial output it would take to win the war – it was difficult for Rochmon to keep a slight smile off his face as he sat across from Admiral Stonefield.
“I just read Captain Gilbert’s honor trustee report,” Stonefield said solemnly, “and since part of it affects your headquarters, I think you should know what it contains before I take any action.”
So that’s what’s bugging him, Rochmon though. “Sir, I –“
“Please, Commander. I find this an onerous chore at best. Allow me to finish. Captain Gilbert, in a rather well-reasoned argument, suggests that your chief cryptographer’s loyalty is subject to question.”
Rochmon almost laughed. “Bock? I don’t believe it, sir. Not for one minute.”
“At this stage, Commander, it does not matter what you believe. What matters is that this Jecti-verdi-fiaad…”
“Call her Bock, sir. It’s easier.”
“Very well. What matters is that this Bock cannot be allowed to continue in her present position until we ascertain the validity of Captain Gilbert’s assumptions.”
“Guilty until proven innocent,” Rochmon said sarcastically. What in the blazing novas did Mica hope to accomplish by accusing Bock? It didn’t make any sense.
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