“Hard to say, sir. About twenty tachymeters behind us, I’d guess, but steady on our course.”
“That’s quite a distance to guess, Bon. What makes you think they’re following us?”
“I’ve made several course adjustments by a few degrees each time. Both times the ship behind us adjusted accordingly. From its nav-signals, I think it’s Castorian, sir.”
“Castorian? Why in the galaxy would a Castorian ship be following us?” Ishiwa scratched his chin and was consciously aware of Kleber’s strong odor still clinging to him. He had to fight to suppress another smile. He was too tired and feeling just a little too crazy to make decisions. “You have some suggestions, Bon?”
“We could exit subspace. That would cause them to –“
“I know what it would do, Bon,” he said, the humor leaving him for the moment. “I also know it would delay our arrival at the rendezvous, and might cause us to miss the tender.” Ishiwa had not meant to cut Bon off, but the sweet ache in his body seemed to have spread to the center of his bones. “Any other ideas?”
“We could continue to monitor and proceed as scheduled.”
“And if it closes with us?”
Bon shook his head ever so slightly while pressing his lips together. “I don’t know, sir.”
Ishiwa covered a loud yawn with one hand and wondered why he didn’t feel more concerned about what Bon was saying. “I don’t know either. What else?”
“If it doesn’t close with us, sir, we could proceed as scheduled and deal with it when we exit subspace.”
“All right. Do that.”
“Very well, sir.”
Again Ishiwa thought there was a hint of a leer in Bon’s smile, but as long as they agreed on a temporary solution to this problem, Bon’s opinion of his private affairs was irrelevant. Something tickled the back of his mind, something he thought might be important. As quickly as it came, it was lost, and all Ishiwa wanted to do was get some sleep. “Just one more thing, Bon. Don’t wake me again unless something serious happens. Understood?”
“Understood, Captain.”
Ishiwa made his way slowly back to his cabin and after closing the door, he took off his clothes in the dark, a slight smile teasing the corners of his mouth. As he slipped in beside Kleber, she murmured quietly in her sleep, turned over, and made room for him. A little to his surprise and much to his relief, that was all she did.
Fatigue seeped from his muscles like a warm bath that weighted his limbs and numbed his senses. Details of the day drifted through his thoughts in lazy spirals as he sank toward the heavy darkness of sleep. He was almost gone when a fragment of memory floated to the surface of his mind and demanded his attention.
Somewhere in one of his briefing books he had read that the Saks were using Castorians as emissaries to the other aliens. If his memory was correct, then a Castorian ship following them could mean that not only was Sondak using the Castorians as emissaries, but also as spies.
For a long time he lay there in the dark, trying to keep his eyes closed, trying to let himself be absorbed by the warmth of Kleber’s body, trying once again to find the path to rest, but the thought of Castorian spies refused to go away. With a long, quiet sigh he finally admitted to himself that he would never get any sleep until he got up and consulted with Bon. Maybe they should send a burst message to the tender and drop out of subspace like Bon had suggested.
Slowly and gently Ishiwa extracted himself from the tangle of Kleber’s body and got out of bed. If we act quickly enough, he thought as he wearily pulled his clothes on, we could ambush the Castorian ship before it knows what we have done. But what if we are wrong? We cannot attack a neutral alien ship without some justification – can we?
When he finally left his cabin for the bridge, his worries about what they should do wiped out any residual good humor he had felt and marked his face with an ugly scowl.
◊ ◊ ◊
Henley had written and filed seven stories, including one fluff piece that detailed Devonshire’s rise from marine lieutenant to admiral. But the more he wrote for the Flag Report, the more he chafed under the restrictions the military placed on him. He was a reporter, not a military hack, and all he wanted to do was to report the war as it was happening. Instead of letting him report the attack on the convoy, they had him writing personality profiles of egotistical officers, and meaningless stories for the “Life in the Fleet” column. It didn’t take him long to regret accepting the warrant, or to realize that at heart he really was a civilian.
The only thing that made the mounting military excrementia bearable was the almost constant presence of Mica Gilbert by his side. Not only was she with him most of the days, she had become the focus of his private thoughts. But after several long talks during which she had cried repeatedly in his arms, Mica had convinced him that their relationship was better kept a friendship than a love affair.
He understood that. In his head he even accepted it, but not in his heart. Henley had found no suitable way to cope with the emotional shock he had been through with her. What he felt for her was not simple friendship. It was part love, part concern, and part a twisted kind of paternal desire.
Henley despised himself for what he felt, yet no matter how much he cursed himself or swore to purge his emotions, he could not wipe the feelings from his heart. He wanted Mica Gilbert in a way that he could never justify, but wasn’t sure he could escape. She was like a drug to his aging body.
Or more truthfully, Mica was like a reincarnation of the daughter his first wife had stolen from him – the daughter he would never know. But his feelings for this daughter were totally unforgiveable.
Henley had dreamed about his missing daughter for twenty years. Now in his dreams, his new daughter, in the form of Mica, had miraculously taken him into her arms and into her body, not once, not twice, but three precious times, just as she had in reality. Henley had awakened after each dream elated and shameful, with tears of joy and sorrow running down his face.
It had been too much to bear.
With skills learned through years of persuading people to help him, Henley had talked his way aboard a shuttle going down to Satterfield. Once dirtside, he had talked his way aboard a lightspeed freighter bound for Sutton, convincing the pilot that he really was authorized to do a story there. He had come out to the polar systems first and foremost to see the war and those who actually fought it. This was the only way he could do that – and the only way he was going to escape his damning fascination with Mica.
“We’re about to exit subspace, Henley,” the pilot’s voice said over his tinny earphones. “After that, it can get pretty interesting around Sutton. Want to join me?”
Henley climbed out of his space hammock and started crawling through the narrow tunnel toward the cockpit. He’d come to appreciate Warrant Officer Caffey during their relatively brief trip together, and he especially admired her courage. This was her fifth run from Satterfield to Sutton.
“I’m ready for something interesting,” he said as he wondered his way into the empty couch.
Caffey laughed. “’F’sall right with you, I’d just as soon we skipped anything ‘too’ interesting. Last time the Ukes damn near caught me as I came in. Had to make a powered equatorial run through the stratosphere to lose them. Almost lost the ship on that one.”
“A picturesque tour of the planet followed by a gentle landing will be quite interesting enough, Caffey.” Already Henley could feel his palms sweating.
“Comin-n-n-g-g, out!” Caffey said as they exited subspace. “Damn, that’s fun. I love it every time.”
Henley nodded as his stomach turned over. Caffey began braking the ship with full dampers. The ship responded by vibrating violently and screaming in protest. Just when Henley was sure the ship would break up at any second, the vibrations got worse. As he clutched his armrests in panic, he managed to look over at Caffey. She seemed totally absorbed in flying the ship. “Aren’t we slowing just a little too hard?” he
shouted above the noise.
“See that grey-green light?” Caffey asked, point to a corner of the viewport. “That’s Sutton. If we don’t slow this fast, we’ll whiz right by it. But if we exited any farther out, the Ukes would spot us for sure. Don’t you worry, Henley, I’m going to set you down all in one piece.”
“What? Me worry?” Henley clung so tightly to the couch he felt like he was braking the ship with his body.
Caffey laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Ukes,” she said loudly, pointing to a head-up display on the viewport.
Henley saw a cluster of amber blips superimposed on the corner of the viewport above the now growing ball of Sutton. “What now?”
“Nothing. They’re not heading this way, and we’re not heading theirs. As long as it stays like that, we’re all right.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you really get to see me fly this crate. Hang on.”
Much to Henley’s dismay, the ship vibrated even harder after Caffey adjusted the controls. Obviously its dampers weren’t absorbing the g-forces because Henley was pressed deeper into the heavy padding of the couch. After almost an hour of interminable shaking, he wanted to ask Caffey how much longer this was going to last, but he couldn’t form the words.
The viewport was growing fuzzy. His eyes and head ached. When he tried to turn toward Caffey, he couldn’t move. Then he realized the fuzziness in the viewport was Sutton reaching out to grab them. They were going to crash right into it. There was no way for Caffey to slow the ship in time.
This is it, he thought. This is how I’m going to die.
Miraculously, the shuddering slowed, then stopped as Caffey brought the ship into a high orbit around Sutton’s equator. Miraculously, Henley felt his body relax. Miraculously, they didn’t die. “My God,” he whispered finally.
“Scary, isn’t it?” Caffey asked with a grin.
“You could have warned me.”
“What? And spoil the fun? Damn, Henley, I did this four times all by myself. It’s kind of a kick to give someone else a trickride like that. Aren’t many pilots could do what we just did and hold a ship together, you know.”
Henley was too busy swallowing the lumps in his throat to answer her. He felt suddenly very sick, but he wasn’t about to –
“Here,” Caffey said, handing him a bag.
With great relief he emptied his stomach in three giant heaves. For the first time he wasn’t embarrassed about being spacesick. In fact, he was surprised his body had held out as long as it did. “Whew,” he sighed after wiping his mouth.
“Don’t worry. The rest is easy.”
Much to Henley’s surprise, it was.
Caffey made three tighter and tighter equatorial orbits as she eased them through the atmosphere. Then she set the ship on a curving course across a small ocean coming in lower and slower until they crossed a coastline.
“Ah, there’s the beacon, Caffey gently brought the ship down into a deep valley to a hastily marked landing area not much larger than the ship itself.
“Welcome to Sutton,” she said with a smile as she shut down the engines.
“Thanks, Caffey. You’re a damn fine pilot.”
“I know that, Henley. And you’re an all right passenger. Be glad to take you back with me if I didn’t already have a return passenger.”
“Passenger?”
“Don’t ask. Top secret stuff.”
“Well, can’t say that I didn’t enjoy your company, but I’ll be glad to stay dirtside for a while,” Henley said as he climbed out of the couch. Through the viewport he could see troops in planetary uniforms closing in on them with a small transport skimmers. “Looks like your unloading party.”
As he followed Caffey out of the ship, Henley was surprised to find himself facing a full general. This could only be General Mari.
“Who the hell are you?” Mari asked.
“Chief Warrant Stanmorton, sir,” he said with a slow salute. It only took him a second to realize that his good luck had probably just run out.
“Who sent you out here? Pajandcan?” The combat tellers insignia on Stanmorton’s collar already told Mari more than he wanted to know, but he couldn’t understand why –
“No, sir. I came on my own.”
“You can just climb back aboard, Mister. The last thing we need around here is a teller.”
“Only room for one of you,” Caffey said with a quiet grin. “You send him back with me, and you’ll have to stay, sir.”
“Stuff him in your freight bay, or something. I just want him off this planet,” Mari said. After years of reading and listening to their lies and distortions about himself and his friends, Mari had no use for tellers. As far as he was concerned they were the scum of the galaxy – worse than pikeans and aliens.
“No life support back there, General, but if you want to wait for the next ship, I’ll be glad to take him.” She flashed Henley a smile. “He’s pretty good company.”
Before Mari could answer, a low siren blared down the valley. “Ukes! Get away from the ship!” he shouted.
Henley followed Mari at a dead run up the hillside. The transport skimmers, most of them still empty, scattered in every direction. Overhead he heard the roar of aircraft.
He looked up, then dove for a shallow stream bed. The first explosion landed less than fifty meters behind him. The second and third sounded even closer.
Caffey rolled down the bank and landed on top of him. “My ship! The bastards are bombing my ship!”
Henley pulled her flat as dirt and debris showered down on top of them. In the distance he could hear weapons firing as the aircraft moved up the valley.
There was another brief explosion much farther away, followed quickly by a tremendous roar that flooded the valley. When it died away only stillness and dust filled the air.
Slowly Henley and Caffey stood up and climbed up the soft dirt bank of the stream bed. When she got to the top, Caffey gasped. “My ship!” she screamed. Immediately she started running down the hill.
Henley stared after her for a full second before he realized that her ship was on fire. “Stop!” he yelled.
When she didn’t stop, he ran after her. Someone tackled him from behind and he fell hard into the dirt, knocking the air from his lungs with a loud grunt.
“They’ll get her,” a deep voice said.
Coughing on a mouth full of dust and gasping for air, Henley managed to get to his knees just in time to see Caffey’s ship explode. He immediately fell flat again as the blast wave rolled over him. Where was Caffey?
Someone was crying. Voice were shouting commands. Henley trembled as he climbed to his feet and surveyed the scene.
Caffey’s ship was barely visible under a boiling column of flames and smoke. High across the valley a second column of smoke rose from behind an outcrop. The Uke aircraft, he thought. Returning his gaze to the valley floor he saw several skimmers full of troops speeding south away from the wreck.
A moment of panic seized him until he saw General Mari standing with Caffey thirty meters to his right. She was staring at the wreck with a look of disbelief. As he walked over to them on still shaky legs, he could see silent tears running down her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, touching her arm.
“Bastards,” she whispered without looking at him.
“Looks like neither of us will be leaving Sutton for the time being, Mister,” Mari said quietly, “but it’s time to get out of here.” For the moment he was glad to be alive, but already he was thinking ahead. The next freighter was scheduled to land in two days, over a thousand kilometers away. If he couldn’t get to that one in time, Mari wasn’t sure how he was going to get off of Sutton.
The three of them climbed aboard Mari’s skimmer, and with another skimmer full of troops acting as their escort, they headed rapidly toward the north end of the valley on a twisting course between low trees and high rocks.
Caffey held onto her seat support with one hand an
d Henley’s arm with the other as they bounced along. He wanted to offer her some kind of comfort, to say something to ease her grief, but he didn’t know how. The last time…
He let the thought slip with a grim smile and wondered what Mica would think if she could see him now – dirty, frightened, and running away from disaster.
What she thought didn’t matter. Henley was where he intended to be, although a bit closer to the action than he would have liked. But it was hard to tell what was really going on in a war without getting close to the fighting. The fear he had felt had been replaced by a growing sense of elation.
Let someone else report the big picture. This was where everything important really happened – even to generals, he thought as he smiled at the back of Mari’s head.
21
FRYE STOOD BEFORE BRIDGEFORCE and chose his final words carefully. A series of clandestine political maneuvers had put him, at least temporarily, in the position Tuuneo had wanted for him. He had been forced to agree to a continuation of the bombship project, and the promotion of tens of officers he knew openly expressed kyosei isolationist sentiments, but in the end all of Tuuneo’s groundwork had paid off. Now as acting chairman, it was incumbent on Frye to convince Bridgeforce to act now.
“It is extremely important that we initiate this attack as quickly as possible,” Frye said slowly. “We’ve finally chased Sondak out of the Michael Cluster and our hunks are beginning to decimate their shipping in the polar regions. A devastating blow against Satterfield now, followed swiftly by the secondary attacks I’ve outlined against Bakke, Yaffee, and Wallbank will cripple Sondak’s already depleted fleets.”
He paused and glanced quickly at Melliman, then gave Bridgeforce what he hoped would be the ultimate inducement for accepting his plan. “If we take Satterfield and do sufficient damage to the other polar systems I mentioned, I believe we could convince Sondak to sue for peace before they suffer anymore – peace on our terms.”
“I agree,” Marshall Judoff said with no trace of emotion.
Frye was startled, but held his tongue when it was obvious that she had more to say.
Double Spiral War Trilogy Page 44