Leri spat a fireball of disgust over Glight’s head. “He tried to eat me. By doing that he gave up any –“
“Please, Proctor Leri. We understand your need to revenge yourself on the one you call Exeter, but the formalities must be observed. We cannot merely claw him over to you without an agreement between us about how he will be treated.”
“He won’t be treated!” Leri screamed. “He will be killed.”
“Of course. Of course. That is understood,” Glights said, bending his hind legs and lowering the end of his carapace to the floor. “But the manner of his killing must be acceptable to us. Otherwise, we cannot deliver him to your custody.”
Growing anger caused Leri to tighten her coil, but at least she now understood what the problem was. The Castorians were squeamish. “How do you kill your own?” she asked sharply.
“We do not kill our own, Proctor. That is why we have this negotiating problem with–“
“You don’t? How do you punish those who are evil? What do you do with those who have violated your sacred laws? – assuming you have sacred laws.” She hoped her sarcasm would make it through the translator.
“We have laws and suitable punishment,” Glights said slowly, “but we do not believe in killing one of our own race. Such a thought is abominable to us.”
“Then what in the smell of burning methane do you do with them?” She sent another fireball over his head, but she did it more from frustration than anger. It was becoming all too clear to her that this was going to be much less simple than she hoped it would be. She reluctantly admitted to herself that the Castorians – soulless as they might be – could have laws and customs that she would have to respect if revenge on Exeter was to be achieved.
“Please, Proctor. Please try to understand. When one of our own is found guilty of violating the High Laws, we imprison that individual until a suitable place can be found to banish them from all communion with any Castorian community. The one you call Exeter was being held prior to just such a banishment.”
“Then banish him here,” she said quickly. “Your law will be satisfied and we will have our revenge on him.”
“It is not that simple. The High Laws demand that such Denied Ones be banished to places where there is no known danger to them, and no possibility of –“
“No danger? What kind of punishment is that?”
“For us, the worst kind. If one faces no dangers, and has no community to share dangers with, one cannot be considered a true Castorian. Facing shared danger is an essential part of our cultural heritage. Surveys of the banished ones show that they soon lose the ability to survive. Their minds no longer function appropriately and they begin to –“
“You mean they go insane?”
Glights paused. “Yes. As I understand the translation. I believe that term describes their condition. They go insane and die, and just punishment is complete.”
“We cannot wait for Exeter to go insane,” Leri said, “although I must admit to a certain beauty to your form of punishment. However, from what you said in the beginning of this discussion, I assume that there are some forms of death your people would find acceptable for Exeter.”
Glights dropped his gaze and crossed his claws. “Yes,” he said softly, “I am ashamed to admit that there are certain kinds of death we would be willing to allow Exeter to suffer.”
“Well?” she asked when he said no more. “Will you tell me? Or must I guess?”
“Unfortunately, Proctor, you must guess. We cannot in good conscience suggest ways in which you – an alien – should kill one of our own.”
Despite her frustration, Leri could appreciate Glight’s dilemma. She would certainly be reluctant to tell him how the Castorians could kill one of her people. Yet by telling him how she wished to kill Exeter, she would be revealing how the sacred laws of the Elett dealt with such offenders. “One form of death,” she said slowly, “would be to place him in a pit and roll rocks upon him.”
“Unacceptable,” Glights said quietly. He pulled his head back into his shell and covered the opening with his claws.
“We could poison him with oxygen.”
“Unacceptable.”
“We could dismember him.”
“Unacceptable!”
“We could burn him alive,” Leri said softly. She had saved that method until last, hoping with all her heart that it might be the one way Glights would accept.
There was a long pause before he answered. “You would not kill him by some other means and then burn him?” Glights asked.
“No. We would burn him alive.”
“Then that is acceptable, Proctor. There is dignity in such a death. On your promise to kill him in such a manner, we will surrender to you our wretched brother Exeter…On one other condition,” he added after a slight pause.
“And that is?”
“This is difficult for me, Proctor, but we have a few others like Exeter whom we have not been able to find proper banishment places for.”
Leri was startled. “You want us to kill them for you?”
There was a long pause before Glights answered. “We would not be offended if they died in the same fire that consumed Exeter.
Act as executioner for the Castorians? If it would get her Exeter and secure the agreement with them, Leri had no objections to killing them. After all, they were only soulless aliens. “How many others?” she asked.
“Forty-three,” Glights said softly.
“We will do this thing. Go now and bring them to us.”
Glights clacked his thanks in the same way that Exeter had done so many seasons before, and slowly backed from her chamber. As she watched him go, Leri felt no sense of triumph. The triumph would come only when Exeter and his fellow outcasts were consumed in flames.
◊ ◊ ◊
“You knew about this, didn’t you Josiah?” Admiral Stonefield asked. “And you approved it.”
There was no anger in Stonefield’s voice, but Gilbert knew he was dealing with an angry man. “I approved an extension of Satterfield’s defensive actions to include Sutton, yes. It was an opportunity both General Mari and Admiral Pajandcan thought we should take advantage of, and I agreed with them.”
Sitting beside Admiral Gilbert, Rochmon wanted to smile, but he held his lips firmly pressed together. The old man had really put one over on the Joint Chiefs with this one. Now it was a matter of seeing how they would accept it.
“So Mari was in on this, too. I’m not surprised, but I want – no.” Stonefield shook his ead. “Josiah,” he said finally, “I think this a foolish plan, but I can see that it is far too late to call the attack force back. I only hope for our sake – and for yours – that this works. Pajandcan has left the polar systems with the minimum level of defense, a level that has to cause me great concern.”
Gilbert waited until he was sure Stonefield was finished before he responded. He had prepared carefully for this situation, but did not want to irritate Stonefield any more than was absolutely necessary. “I think, sir,” he said slowly, “that given the advantages of a surprise attack, we can deal a serious blow to the Ukes in the polar region.”
“I understand your reasoning, Josiah. I just don’t happen to agree with it.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
“Then appreciate this. At best this action is barely within the scope of your command – even with Mari’s complicity. The Joint Chiefs are going to scream for your head if this goes wrong, and I will be hard pressed to keep them from getting it.”
“But if it succeeds, sir, this could be our first step toward putting the Ukes on the defensive. We cannot afford to conduct this war as a defensive waiting game.”
“Until now I would have violently disagreed with you. If this attack succeeds, I might be forced to adopt your point of view. But I still don’t like it, Josiah. I don’t like it one bit. And you,” he said, turning his cold gaze on Rochmon, “you knew about this, too, didn’t you?”
“He did, si
r,” Gilbert said before Rochmon could answer.
“But under your direction he kept it a secret? There could be charges brought –“
“Only against me, sir. I ordered Commander Rochmon to confine his knowledge of this plan to very specific people.”
“No.” Stonefield said quietly. “Regardless of your orders, Commander Rochmon had a duty to inform Bridgeforce of certain activities involved with this operation which affected all the fleets. His failure to –“
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Rochmon said quickly, “but we were very careful to include all that information in our reports to Bridgeforce.”
“Then why didn’t I see –“ Stonefield stopped in mid-sentence and gave Rochmon a grim smile. “You buried them.”
“Not exactly, sir,” Rochmon said, refusing to return the smile. He knew he was in a delicate position and didn’t want to jeopardize it. “The information is all there in the daily ‘Manifests and Movement Reports.’ We just didn’t point to it.”
Suddenly Stonefield laughed, but it was a laugh without humor. “You’re good, Commander. And so is your boss. But I’ll repeat what I said before. If this attack doesn’t succeed, the Joint Chiefs will demand a price – from both of you, I suspect. As much as I may admire how you pulled this off, I want you to know that I will join them in demanding that price.”
Rochmon and Gilbert left Stonefield’s office in a grim mood, their thoughts centered on what was happening halfway across the galaxy. Neither of them would have been surprised by what the other was thinking, and neither of them was willing to think beyond a battle that was totally out of their control.
◊ ◊ ◊
As the second wave of fighters left the launchship Walker Mica Gilbert began to think that victory would come easier than anyone expected.
The Ukes had been caught totally off guard with their ships in a docking formation. The reports from the first fighters had been almost too good to believe – little or no resistance from the ships, only a handful of fighters coming out to meet them, and most incredible of all, no apparent attempt by the Ukes to disperse their formation. The only thing missing from those reports had been a sighting a large Uke launchship.
“This is Schopper,” a voice said over the loudspeaker. “We’re going in.”
“Shall I alert Pajandcan? Mica asked.
“By all means, Captain. And be sure to tell her how far ahead of schedule we are and that we haven’t found the mother-Uke launchship.”
“Will do, sir.” Mica hurried to her cubicle and began composing the message. No sooner had she sent it than she heard cries of alert from the command deck. She confirmed the transmission, then rushed back to Dimitri’s side.
“Heavy resistance coming right at us. Ninety, maybe one hundred fighters. Still don’t see any big launchship, Admiral, just the same little ones.”
“We’re picking up your visuals now, Selkit,” Dimitri said.
Mica followed his gaze to the overhead screen. “Doesn’t look like they have as many ships as we thought they did.”
“Unless they’ve moved them somewhere else,” Dimitri said quickly. “Better pass that on to Pajandcan in a hurry.”
“Suppose they’re just lurking on the edge of the system, sir? Shouldn’t we –“
“No sign of them. You pass on that message, Captain. If they pulled ships out of here, especially a mainline launchship, that could mean they’re planning another major offensive. Pajandcan should know that.”
Once again Mica went to her cubicle and composed a message. After she sent it, she wondered if this had been such a good idea after all. Sending messages to Pajandcan every two minutes was hardly an efficient use of her time. But if Dimitri’s suspicions were anywhere near correct, then Pajandcan would need every scrap of evidence they could send her.
With a sigh she confirmed the transmission of this latest message and again headed out onto the command deck. As she listened to the reports coming in and watched scenes from the swirling battle high over Sutton, she thought about Schopper landing his troops.
There had still been no communications with Mari or General Porras, and she only hoped that they were too busy winning to talk. And for his sake, she hoped that Henley was getting all the stories he could handle.
25
THE ATTACK FLEET WAS NAMED TUUNEO in honor of the late Admiral. After taking on fuel, provisions, and a full load of missiles, Olmis had barely had time to make the rendezvous with it. There had been no time for Ishiwa to train his timino of hunks before they were dispatched by Kuskuvyet toward Satterfield.
He and Bon had managed to compose a brief plan of operations, and after consulting with the other hunk captains enroute, Ishiwa had adopted a very loosely coordinated system for them to follow. He knew it was terribly inadequate, but it would have to do.
Their primary mission had not been attack. It had been surveillance. Olmis and the fourteen other hunks assigned to this operation had been given the task of determining how many Sak ships there were around Satterfield – their type, their classes, and their disposition. Only after doing that and receiving clearance from Admiral Charltos himself, were they to be allowed to attack Sondak ships in or around the Satterfield system.
Ishiwa’s timino had performed its surveillance mission very admirably. None of its hunks had been spotted by the Saks, and all of them had followed his orders explicitly. He had reported back to Tuuneo Fleet that there were fewer than one hundred ships of any significant size in orbit around Satterfield, and that completed the first part of their mission. Ishiwa had then requested permission to pull back and attack the crowded spacelanes leading into the system.
The longer he waited for permission to attack, the more he suspected that they would not be given that clearance until Tuuneo Fleet arrived. His suspicions were justified.
When Olmis’s transceiver finally rang with the words, “Attack all orbiting targets,” Ishiwa knew that Tuuneo Fleet had already exited subspace.
“Battle stations,” he ordered. “Lieutenant, we will begin the attack as planned against those communication ships in equatorial orbit.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Bon said enthusiastically.
Ishiwa had chosen the simplest tactic he could think of. With carefully controlled speed he eased Olmis into an equatorial orbit of its own a thousand kilometers beyond the outlying Sondak ships. Then he applied enough power to send Olmis in the opposite direction of Satterfield’s spin. That would bring all the ships in stationary equatorial orbits one by one into Olmis’s line of fire. Thus he could loose missiles upon them with either fore or aft tube as best suited the demands of targeting and reloading. It would be like practice shooting.
“Fighters approaching, sir! Coming in fast astern!”
Ishiwa accepted the boater’s announcement with a soft curse. Somehow Sondak’s detection equipment had managed to find them again. “Increase speed to one-third,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was waste missiles on fighters when it would be so easy to outrun them.
“First target coming up,” Bon said, “light research carrier, Kesterson-class.”
“Fighter’s still closing.”
“Targeting control is yours, Lieutenant.” Ishiwa hated relinquishing targeting control, but in this case he had no choice. “I’ll keep us steady on this course. Kleber, I want the stern tube independent. I may need it to put some flak between us and those fighters.
“Forty seconds to firing.”
“Unidentified blip coming up from planetside, sir. Range thirty-one thousand kilometers and closing at point-severn-five.”
“Thirty seconds to firing.”
“Could be a freighter,” Ishiwa said. “Steady on course and speed.” He hoped it was just a freighter, because he dared not throw Bon’s targeting off now.”
“Twenty seconds to firing.”
“Fighters still closing, sir. Accelerating fast.”
“Kleber, set the stern missile for one kilometer proximity and we’ll
see if we can’t break those fighters up. But wait for my command.”
“Aye, sir. Stern tube one-K prox,” she said quietly into the microphone that connected her to the firing chambers.
“Eight, seven, six…”
Ishiwa followed Bon’s count and enjoyed the thump when the forward missile fire fired. “Now the stern tube, Kleber.”
The second thump followed his words like a period at the end of his sentence.
“Now, blip closing…missiles this way, sir!”
“Speed, point-eight. Bon, at this speed you’ll have to target forward and fire aft. What’s the closing speed on those missiles, boater?”
The boater hesitated. “Dropping, sir, as we accelerate.” The relief was obvious in his voice. “Wait. I’m picking up ships at range – they’re ours, Captain! Our fighters are entering the system!”
“Calm. Be calm,” Ishiwa ordered. He felt the tension as much as anyone, but it wouldn’t do for any of them to let it show. “Continue searching for targets,” he said as he waited calmly for the next problem.
“First missile hit, sir,” Bon announced.
“That was awfully fast, wasn’t it?”
“But, sir –“
“Check it, Bon.”
Bon quickly looked at his screen. When he looked back at Ishiwa there was pride on his face. “A hit, sir.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Now continue –“
“Hard course ought-ten-ten!” Ishiwa shouted. Even as he gave the order he knew it was too late. Olmis rocked under the explosion of a missile that found its mark.
◊ ◊ ◊
The stone ledge was too inviting for Henley to resist. He sat on it, wiped the mud from his hands on the sleeves of his battle jacket, and tore open his ration packet.
“Better eat that on the move,” General Archer said as he walked up beside him. “The Hundred and Second Planetary Legion just broke through the Uke defenses along the river about five kilometers north of Turner City, and we’re going to try to link up with them before nightfall. But at least you won’t have to leg it this time. I found a skimmer for you.”
Double Spiral War Trilogy Page 48