“Captain Jensol, can you explain this signal?”
The Captain pondered for a moment. “I’m not sure I can, sir.” He looked down at his screen again, at the page from the history of Lormar that dealt with the Adian emigration. The Admiral looked down as well and nodded.
“I’ve been going over the same information myself,” he admitted. “What the hell is going on there?”
“Sir,” Signals Commander Lerechin appeared on the bridge, “I request a private meeting.”
Signals Commanders did not usually leave the Communications room while on duty, and Captain Jensol’s eyebrows rose. He trusted his crew, however. “Very well, Commander.” What could be so important that Lerechin couldn’t use the Comm? The Admiral led the way into the Flag cabin.
“Sir, one of my spacers was scanning the civilian channels and came across...”
“While on duty, Commander?” the Admiral asked.
Commander Lerechin paled but stood his ground. “Aye, sir. Against regs, but very good for morale. It doesn’t interfere with the efficiency of the department; in fact it improves it.” He took a breath. “I authorize it during slack periods.” He took full responsibility.
“Continue, please, Lerechin,” Captain Jensol knew of the practice and had turned a blind eye to it.
“Sir. Channel Tango has information coming directly from the Prime Stations of Lormar. I put a damper on it until you could see it for yourself.” At Jensol’s nod he went to the screen and made some adjustments. He then called down to Signals and ordered, “Play it.” A man in a dark blue uniform appeared in the corner of the screen.
“Information from pickets reveals that the Tlartox Fleet, approximately two hundred in number, is now only two hours from Lormar. Ready in the defense of Lormar and her four Primes we have Rear Admiral Cenet’s Tenth Fleet, composed of his Flagship, the cruiser Honor, two modern frigates and twenty-nine recommissioned frigates. Five frigates are under repair. Supporting the Rear Admiral is the Adian Fleet—the old 22nd—under Adian Fleet Admiral Fenton in the Battleship Restigouche.”
As he spoke in his archaic accent the original record of the Adians’ arrival began to play. Restigouche came through her portal into normal space. Lieutenant Rensler’s voice could now be heard describing the arrival of the ‘Vandoo’.
Admiral Blarenti looked at Jensol in disbelief as the Adian fleet cruised by the emergence beacon. The disbelief turned to astonishment as Fleet Admiral Fenton made her arrival speech.
The Adian commentator returned. “With her six battleships, eight heavy and four light cruisers, thirty destroyers and five scouts, Fleet Admiral Fenton provides a heavy backup for the Confederation Fleet. Also joining the defense are two cruisers and eight modern frigates from First Fleet. These vessels from the scattered fleet appeared and have remained to aid in our coming battle.
“Each of the four Primes has on it twenty-five hundred Adian Marines, backed up by volunteers from Lormar. Each Prime has firepower more than equal to a modern cruiser. The Tlartox are in for the fight of their lives, for Fleet Admiral Fenton has declared that there will be no evacuation and no surrender.”
Lerechin turned off the screen. “From there they go around interviewing officers and enlisted personnel.”
“And they broadcast this on a civilian channel?” Admiral Blarenti still could not believe what he’d seen.
“Aye sir. Apparently it is a condition of the Adians. If the channels were not made available, they would leave. These signals are going out to every vid-screen on Lormar, and are available to every vid agency which wants to sign on.”
Jensol whistled lowly. “Well, Admiral, what are we going to do about this?”
“Release it to the fleet screens,” Blarenti decided. “Then announce that we are going to flank speed.”
“We’re due to drop for recalibration, sir.”
“No time, Captain. We’ll drop once, just before we hit Lormar . . . no, drop one scout. It’s fast enough to catch up to us after recalibrating.”
“Aye, sir.”
Flank speed for that length of time would sorely tax the engines. Jensol smiled to himself. After viewing the records from Lormar nary an engineer would complain. If the defenders were savvy, they might last until Second and Fourth Fleets arrived. Unlikely, but possible. In any event, Second and Fourth Fleets might catch the Tlartox Fleet scattered after the battle and be able to retake Lormar and her Primes with minimal losses. It was a thought. Likely it wouldn’t be near that easy.
LORMAR
Relnie Fronel sat in the main room of her house, surrounded by family. One hour left before her husband, his fleet, and the Adians had to face the Tlartox. Lemm had not tried to give false hope. The situation was desperate, he’d told her. The Adian ships were old, and their main function would be to provide targets for the Tlartox so that the more modern Confederation ships might slip through the fire and do some lasting damage to the enemy.
“But that’s horrible,” Relnie had protested. “You mean they will just sacrifice themselves?”
“We warned them,” Lemm had replied softly. “They say that their ships have been modernized over the years and that no compartments next to the hull are now occupied during combat. They’ll be opened to vacuum. It will be one more layer of defense, and their armor is much stronger than ours, though their shields are much weaker.”
Relnie had just shaken her head. “Those poor men and women, those poor people.” She turned away.
“We all know the odds, Relnie,” Lemm approached and placed his arms around her, holding her close. “We’ve all decided that we can’t leave Lormar to the mercies of the Tlartox. We’ll do our best to keep you safe, I promise it.”
Tears flowed down Relnie’s cheeks. “I know you will, darling, I know you will.”
Relnie returned her attention to the screen. As one of the cameras scanned the dock area on Prime Alpha she thought she saw Lemm and the Commodore. She said a prayer for them, then remembered to say one for Gren Tirog and the crew of Meratie. They would need it.
SEARCHER
“Send emergence signal, Dhine.” Britlot waited until the emergence signal had gone and the Fleet had time to recognize it. “Drop.”
“Lieutenant Krirtol, please contact Honor.”
The vid screen came to life and Rear Admiral Cenet’s face appeared. “Good day, Captain.”
“Rear Admiral, sir. We have over one hundred and eighty ships barely an hour behind us. Please direct us to our battle station.”
“Good work, you and your crew. Please give them my thanks. You are to join Commodore Prusnol’s squadron. Good luck, son.”
“Thank you, sir. Good luck to us all—and confusion to the Enemy.”
The Rear Admiral laughed. “Aye, that would help.” The screen went blank.
“Lieutenant Krirtol, you have the con. Please take the Searcher to its designated position. Lieutenant Weytok, if I might talk with you?”
Britlot and Weytok headed off the bridge. Behind them Krirtol smothered her grin and turned in time to catch several suddenly straight faces amongst the crew. Then they were gone and she grinned. Mart and Feneya didn’t fool anyone. Still, appearances had to be maintained.
TLARTOX HOME PLANET
Vom sat quietly and watched as Miz breathed in and out. Her ragged breathing made Vom fear that the doctor had arrived too late. They had moved the receivers, and not any too soon. He’d already had reports that agents of the hunter klatches had appeared where they’d stood an hour previously.
Fortunately, Vin Tlantho had not been privy to the list of cells—he had done that right, at least—and most of his people were safe. Safe? What was safe any longer?
“Message coming in from Efdur,” his aide reported through the open door.
Vom turned on his screen and was caught by the sorrow in the yellow-green eyes of his friend. “You shouldn’t take chances like this, Shads,” Vom told him.
Shads didn’t answer. His gaze went past V
om to the cot behind him. “Is that Miz?”
“She saved our tails, Shads. It never was her. I should have listened to you.”
“How is she?”
“We won’t know for some time yet. I have hopes. What have you to report?”
“Nothing really, Vom. I’m leaving you my package. It downloads as we speak.” Shads finally removed his gaze from Miz and returned them to Vom. “We’re in hyperspace just off Lormar. The battle begins shortly. There is no way to stop it from your end?”
Vom looked as tired as he felt. “No. There is too much joy that the hunt goes so well. We can do nothing here. Not yet. But you know that already.”
“Hey, Shads,” came a shaky voice and Vom turned to look at Miz whose eyes slitted barely open.
“Good to see you Miz. I never doubted.”
“So I heard.” She suddenly stopped and painfully moved a black arm to check her head. She glared at Vom. “I’m a mess,” she accused him.
Vom bared his teeth. “I was busy, Miz. I figured you could do it for yourself, later.”
Miz relaxed, content. “I’m really sleepy, Vom. I’ll look after it ... later.”
“As you wish.”
Miz closed her eyes and her breathing slowed as she drifted to sleep. Shads looked tenderly upon her for a moment. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”
Vom lowered his voice so that Miz wouldn’t be able to hear, asleep or not. “Belief is the strongest thing she has going for her. If she believes she’s in no danger, she’ll recover. If she believed we thought she was going to Tlar, she wouldn’t. A calculated risk, Shads.”
“I must go. My package is in your hands now. I have an addition, though. Tell Miz that I still love her.”
“Good hun— ... ah, may your dish be full of the choicest morsels, Shads.” ‘Good hunting’ did not seem appropriate.
“And yours, Master.”
The screen went dark. Vom stood and went over to Miz. He sat down beside her and absently began brushing her fur. Just to be safe, he thought, just to be safe.
CHAPTER 27
PREDATOR
“Probe ready, Star Admiral,” Captain Blontera reported to Sab Tlorth, who called up Tood Tlomega. Tlomega appeared in short order.
“Drop probe.”
“Probe dropped, data stream acquired.”
“Status?”
“Safe to drop, Fleet Admiral.”
“Drop!”
Two hundred and fourteen Tlartox ships of war suddenly appeared somewhat distant to the far side of Lormar’s moon. Two hundred and fourteen detection officers scanned the data appearing on their screens and satisfaction abounded as the signals of three Prime Stations with their guard ships spread out in front of them. Ten ships per station. Thirty ships, forty if the fourth station had a similar defense. The hunt would proceed swiftly and surely. Lormar belonged to them.
“Order the fleet to proceed at half speed, attack formation,” Tlomega ordered. Her eyes slitted with pleasure. At last Tlenfro would be avenged.
“Sir!”
“Detection Officer, report.”
“Coming out of the planet’s shadow, sir, a battle fleet.”
“Count!”
“I count forty-five—no, fifty¼fifty-four vessels. Some of them are...”
“Are what?”
“Huge, sir.”
Tlomega glared at the unfortunate officer, her ears half back in anger. “Put it on the screen.” She bent over her screen, as did Star Admiral Tlorth and Captain Blontera. The picture when it steadied and sharpened caused all to draw in hissed breaths. “Check the computer for a match. I’ve never seen anything like it before. May the dishes of our intelligence agents be forever empty! Go to one quarter speed.”
“Sir, computer check identifies the large one as a battleship dating back to the last war.”
“Impossible. Show me.” Tlomega studied the ident chart carefully, matching it to the lines of the largest of the vessels opposing them. It was a battleship. Tlomega bared her teeth in fierce joy. “They must be desperate to recommission those. Furless liars. They reported their last battleship scrapped some one hundred and eighty years ago.” She ignored Sab’s worried look. “Back to half speed. This hunt will not take long—if they don’t jump and deprive us of any hunt at all.”
“Message coming in on Fleet Frequency One, sir.” The Comm-Tech looked stunned. “It’s ... it’s for you, Fleet Admiral, sir.”
Tlomega cocked her ears to the disgusted angle. “Well, put it through. What is so strange about that?”
“It’s ... them.”
Before Tlomega had a chance to react, a human appeared on her screen. She did not wear a Confederation Navy uniform, but a uniform it was, and strangely familiar.
“Welcome to Lormar, Fleet Admiral Tlomega,” the human said without rancor. “We trust this is a friendly visit. If not, you have just fifteen minutes to jump back to hyperspace and leave.”
Tlomega liked her bravado, but was surprised that the human spoke reasonably fluent Tlarti. She had time before her fleet entered firing range, so she cocked her ears forward in the interested mode. “With whom am I speaking?” Tlomega asked in her best Confederation Standard.
“I am Fleet Admiral Fenton, Adian Navy. We heard that you broke the treaty of Tlenfro, so the 22nd has returned. You know what that means.” The woman bared her teeth in what the Confederationtox considered a smile. Tlomega knew enough to recognize that this particular smile conveyed no warmth at all.
The 22nd. The Adians? They had survived? Tlomega knew all about the renegade 22nd. They had deliberately ignored the Veryt Convention and targeted Tlartox ships which had declared themselves out of action at Tlenfro. Then they, and the entire Adian nation, left the Confederation for parts unknown, only to be destroyed by the Phenomenon.
Tlomega knew all about the Phenomenon, too. The Phenomenon had destroyed several Tlartox scout and colonizing ships before they declared that sector of space quarantined. A thought came to him: If the Adians had survived, then ...
“Your time fast runs out, Tlomega.” The human didn’t even give her the honor due her rank. Tood’s ears went back.
“We are here to take Lormar much as your ancestors took Tlenfro, Fenton. Your decrepit ships will make good target practice.”
The human smiled again. “Then know this, all of you: As far as Adia is concerned, the Convention of Veryt does not exist. You lost any right to that when you broke the treaty of Tlenfro. We shall not allow your ships to escape our space. Here you are and here you die: all of you—unless you accept unconditional surrender.” She turned her head to look at someone off-screen. “Fire!”
“Enemy warships firing torpedoes, sir.” The Detection Officer laughed. “Confederation type 24s, sir. I didn’t know they existed any longer.”
The ten torpedoes didn’t make it even a twentieth of the way to the Tlartox fleet before they exploded. An energy lattice appeared between them for a moment, then faded. Tlomega didn’t understand.
“We’ve just destabilized this entire system,” the human explained. “You are no longer able to jump to hyperspace. Nor are we. We all fight—and die—here.”
Tlomega laughed. “Your parlor tricks don’t frighten us. Such a feat is impossible.” She turned and had Comm open a channel to Stalker. “Captain, take your ship to hyperspace,” she ordered.
“But sir, if she is correct...”
“You’ve been receiving this transmission?” Tlomega was suddenly wary. Where had the Adians picked up the technology that would allow them to access her whole fleet on a scrambled, dedicated military channel?
“Jump, Captain. That’s an order. We will show these furless creatures that their lies cannot frighten the people of Tlar.”
Stalker began to waver and wink out.
“Sir, Stalker is destabilizing. Energy build-up. She’s going to...”
Stalker blew up. It enraged Tlomega. If the humans wanted a fight, she’d give them a fight to the finish.
Sab spoke truth. “Send in Ranelth’s squadron. Have them make a feint towards Prime Bravo. We’ll see what kind of reaction we get.”
PHANTOM HUNTER
Light Admiral Ranelth separated her ships from the others and sent them driving towards Prime Bravo. A line of destroyers and Confederation frigates moved to intercept.
“Remember, we are simply gathering information.”
“In range, now!”
“Wait for them to fire first. Change course, parallel them. Easy, easy. Shields to full.”
“Enemy forming battle line.”
The Adian destroyers opened fire and Ranelth’s cruiser shook under hits. The shields held.
“Target lead destroyer, single weapon slow pulse. Fire!”
The Adian destroyer began evasive maneuvers but, to the Tlartox, she wallowed. Hit after hit struck her shields until they collapsed.
“Her shields are down, sir . . . torpedoes fired, enemy turning away. Torpedoes Confederation Type 20.”
Fifty torpedoes filled the space between them. Ranelth turned her ships away and watched the torpedoes closely. They appeared to be type 20, but the type 24s had held some strange charge and she wasn’t going to take chances with these. Ranelth watched, as did the detector officers on every ship of both fleets, as did one hundred million pairs of eyes on Lormar and the Prime Stations. The torpedoes quickly closed range.
“Defensive fire,” she ordered. “Take them out. Go to full speed.”
Bright flashes came, then vanished as torpedo after torpedo exploded. Still the torpedoes closed range. There were only eight of them left when Ranelth ordered full evasive maneuvers. The old torpedoes couldn’t match them and finally ran out of fuel. Ranelth ordered two of them brought on board one of her frigates and examined as they pulled back. They were, as they had appeared to be, Confederation Type 20 torpedoes. No surprises. Just old weaponry that had no place in a modern battle.
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