“She does have a point,” Parkes said. “And it has activated a distress beacon so, under maritime law, we are honour bound to investigate.”
But Farnese was too tired to care. He started moving back towards the command chair.
“Let’s leave it for a while – see if the Serrayu want to do something with it.”
“Sir,” another member of the comms team said. “Sorry to interrupt but we’ve just received a fresh communication.”
“From the Serrayu?”
“No, sir. It’s from another Confederation ship. The Naked Spur.”
*
Meyer had been dining alone in his cabin when the message came through and so they all had to stand around waiting until he finally emerged. This gave Ardent enough time to get the low-down from Farnese on this new arrival.
The Naked Spur had last been seen patrolling the Hermia Gate. This was traditionally a vulnerable area insofar as it provided direct access for Yakutian ships entering Confederation space. Whoever was put in charge of patrolling it had been given a thankless task. If the Yakutians chose to arrive en masse there was virtually nothing that a single ship could do to halt them. At best, they would be able to launch a warning drone in the hope that it wouldn’t be intercepted, otherwise their sacrifice would have been for nothing.
If The Naked Spur had abandoned its normal role to come here, leaving the Confederation exposed, then that suggested that the Admiralty was finally taking the threat posed by the Da’al seriously.
The man in charge was one Julius Winterson. Admiral Julius Winterson appeared to be in his early fifties, with a good head of hair and skin the colour of fresh tilled soil. He briefly introduced Andre Ruggia the ship’s captain and, after the usual round of pleasantries, he quickly got down to business.
“To be frank, Captain Meyer, I’m surprised to find you still here.”
Meyer, pulled at the sleeves of his uniform as if they were made for someone shorter.
“Surprised? Why? We’ve been keeping an eye on the Serrayu.”
“Forgive me, captain, but according to my situational analysis, I was expecting to find you in orbit around Tigris right about now.”
Meyer quickly brought him up to speed regarding the fate of the Dardelion.
“And do you know what became of the rest of the crew? Were there no survivors?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, admiral. As you are doubtless aware, there is an enemy destroyer currently orbiting the planet.”
Winterson looked visibly perplexed.
“Yes, I am aware of that but the Renheim is more than a match for any destroyer.”
“That is true,” Meyer conceded. “But you reckon without the rest of the Da’al fleet. I had no intention of jeopardising my ship without a reasonable chance of success.”
“And yet you would allow a group of civilian vessels to carry out a major evacuation without so much as a picket ship in place.”
Meyer glowered at Ardent as if she were solely responsible for all this. “Those ships are operating entirely outside of my jurisdiction. While I attempted to dissuade them from embarking on such a foolhardy course of action, they refused to listen. If they choose to put themselves in jeopardy then there’s precious little that I can do to stop them.”
“If you’ll forgive me, captain, I think you’re mistaken. What you label as foolhardy strikes me as entirely laudable. These people have a clear objective: they are attempting to execute a perfectly legitimate non-combatant evacuation operation in very difficult circumstances. Why do you think the Da’al are interested in Laxx in the first place?”
“No idea. I imagine that it has something to do with materiel. Either they want it for themselves or they want to stop us from acquiring it.”
“And so how would the Da’al view the members of this convoy?”
“Honestly?” Meyer puffed out his cheeks. “I very much doubt that the Da’al would take them at all seriously. They have barely enough armaments to defend themselves let alone anyone else.”
“But as you say, by evacuating the workers their actions will frustrate the Da’al’s ability to gain access to the various minerals and metals to be found on the surface. If someone had thought to brief the miners on how to sabotage their equipment before leaving, they might have seriously impeded the Da’al’s operational effectiveness in any number of ways. Is that something you considered, captain.”
Meyer’s discomfort was palpable. “Obviously, we considered it…”
“But didn’t choose to act upon it,” Winterson turned instead to Farnese. “Commander, what’s your take on all of this? How would you class these civilian captains if you were part of the Da’al fleet?”
Farnese stiffened. “Well, sir, as adversaries, I expect.”
“And why’s that?” Winterson asked.
Farnese stared straight ahead, anxious not to catch Meyer’s eye.
“Because they would be preventing me from achieving my objective, sir. They present a kind of hybrid threat. Their motivation might be different from that of my enemy, it may be quite ambiguous, in fact. But the effect would be the same: I would be unable to achieve my short term goals.”
“Exactly,” Winterson turned his attention back to Meyer. “But you chose not to support this initiative, captain.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
“We rather had our hands full with our Search and Rescue commitments.”
Admiral Winterson had heard enough.
“How many pods do you currently have on board?”
Meyer didn’t know. Despite himself, he flashed a look at Farnese.
“Currently, we have twenty one pods on-board, sir,” Farnese said.
“As many as that?” Winterson said. “Very well, I want them transferred over to Blackthorn Station immediately.”
Meyer gave a thin smile. “We have avoided using Blackthorn in the past, sir, as we believe that their security systems have been compromised.”
“Nonetheless. I’d like it done.”
There was a finality to this which Meyer saw fit not to question.
“Commander Farnese will see to it,” he said.
“I’m sure he will. In the meantime, captain, you should be making preparations to move out within the next six hours,” a surge of excitement swept through the bridge. “Now, I believe that you have a VIP on-board.”
Meyer looked blank. Then said, “I take it that you’re referring to Governor Ardent.”
“Just so.”
Meyer moved to one side to allow Ardent to step forward.
Winterson got straight to the point.
“Governor, I understand you’ve had a tough time of it lately. It might be a good idea if you were to sit this one out.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, admiral, but the miners on Laxx are just as important to me as the people back on Iscaria. If you don’t mind, I would like to stick with the Renheim. If Captain Meyer will have me, of course?”
Meyer dipped his head like the petty bureaucrat he was. He knew that, as Governor of the whole system, they relied upon Ardent’s continued goodwill. Without it, they wouldn’t get very far.
It seemed that Winterson knew that too.
“Governor, I have to remind you that that this is a military operation. I can’t guarantee your safety if you choose to stay aboard. Once the Renheim is underway there can be no turning back.”
“Again, I thank you for your concern but I intend to stay.”
Winterson knew when he was beaten. “It’d be a pleasure to have you along, ma’am. Captain Meyer, be advised that you and your ship are now under my direct command. My office is transmitting your orders as we speak.”
“Might I ask what they are?” he asked primly. “It would save me from having to brief my senior team separately.”
Ardent realised that all eyes were now on her. “I’m sorry, I should leave?”
“Not on my account, ma’am,” Winterson said. “Our orders are
to proceed to a point roughly two million miles counter spinward of Laxx, just short of Ares, their big gas giant. There we will set up a forward operating centre where we might set up our own exclusion zone in an attempt to block the Da’al from entering Confederation space.”
Ardent said, “That’s quite a bold plan, admiral.”
“We need to establish some boundaries. The Admiralty are still of the mind that this conflict might well be resolved peacefully, that the various attacks committed so far may be down to cultural issues, or a lack of clarity on our part. We have no clear sense of how this new species goes about their business. For all we know, they may well think that they were defending their own territory. And considering the difficulty mankind has communicating with fellow mammals on our own planet, there might well be something in it.”
This was met with a stunned silence from the bridge. Considering what the crew knew about the threat posed by the Da’al, Ardent couldn’t work out why no one had said anything. Then she realised that they couldn’t. They were all constrained by the chain of command.
All except her. She punched up images of the Da’al ships onto the main view screen.
“Admiral, can I ask: do you really think that all this can be settled peacefully?”
“With respect Madam Governor, it doesn’t matter a damn what I think. What I know is that this is how the Admiralty wants this to go. We will attempt to set up our forward operating centre and hope that we can persuaded the Da’al to respect it.”
“And if they refuse?”
“Well, that’s when we all start earning our pay check.”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
As they made their way back to their entry point, Nash caught up with Webster and pulled him to one side.
“You realise what we’ve got here?” he asked.
“To be honest, I’m still taking it all in.”
“This is the find of the century, commander. We manage to get this back home, we’ll be set for life.”
“You’re talking about salvage rights? But surely, that’ll go to Kekkonen and his team. They were the ones who found it, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” Nash demurred. “But that’s only half the battle. All the technology in the world is no good if you can’t find a way of getting it home.”
“And what are you suggesting? That we fire the old girl up? Take her for a spin?”
“Tempting though that sounds, I think we’re going to be needing some specialist lifting gear.”
“Seriously? You plan on hauling this lot out of here? Is that even possible?”
“That’s for the engineers to decide but I’m sure they’ll think of something, even if they have to strip her out section by section.”
While Webster didn’t doubt that such a thing were possible, he also had a pretty good idea how long that might take. They were looking at a five year operation, if not longer.
“And what do you think the Da’al are going to be doing all this time? Cheering us on from the cheap seats?”
Nash’s mouth twisted into a sour down turn.
“I didn’t say it would be easy but the Da’al can be beaten. You proved that yourself when you took out that ship of theirs.”
“We got lucky with that one. They were slow to catch on to our weapons systems and we took advantage of that but that probably won’t happen again. They learn from their mistakes plus, when they come into conflict with others, they are absolutely ruthless.”
“Oh, I think mankind can be pretty ruthless as well, when the need arises.”
As they carried on walking, Webster wrestled with a growing sense of unease and was relieved when he finally caught sight of the cut-away section they’d entered through. But as he drew closer, he saw that someone was waiting for them.
The young Marine didn’t waste any time and came straight over and saluted. He was an intense figure with badly pockmarked skin.
“Private First Class Dylan, sir.”
“At ease. What’s the problem PFC? Can’t it wait ‘til we get outside?”
“Sergeant Markham wanted you to be the first to know, sir.”
That sounded ominous.
“Know what?”
“Outside, sir. We’ve got company.”
*
The Da’al had landed three shuttles at the other end of the lake. They’d brought ground troops with them although so far, no one was sure about their numbers. Markham had sent a scouting party out to try and gather some intel and they’d had to wait until the party returned before they could decide their next move.
“Ugly little bastards, aren’t they?” Nash said as he lowered his binoculars.
“They’re probably thinking the same about you.”
“How many do you think we’re looking at?”
“Enough,” Markham said, cutting him off.
“Any idea how we should play this?” Webster said.
“Set up defensive positions high up on both banks of the lake, stop ‘em from sneaking round the back. That way we also get to keep our lines of fire clean.”
No one stated the obvious. That the Da’al, by landing where they had, had failed to win themselves any kind of strategic advantage. It seemed unfeasible that they’d even consider attacking from over there – which suggested that they had some other trick up their sleeve.
“What happens if they decide to come in from the rear?” Nash asked. “What’s stopping them coming in through those foothills?”
“I’ve got a couple of spotters out back,” Markham said. “Anything happens back there, they’ll be sure to let us know. No, my concern is if they use those shuttles of theirs for a frontal assault.”
Webster surveyed the two defensive redoubts they’d established. One was an auto-canon set-up while the other held a pod of ground-to-air missiles
“It’d be risky but if they were willing to sacrifice one of those birds a second one just might be able to break through: drop a platoon right on top of us. It’d be carnage but once they were dirtside, we’d have a hell of a job getting rid of them.”
“We’re going to have to double the size of our watch,” Webster wasn’t sure what else to say. “But, other than that, we’ll just have to sit and wait.”
“Not a lot else we can do,” Markham seemed resigned to his task.
“We could try talking to them,” Webster said.
“Really. Aren’t these the same guys who incinerated your girlfriend?”
Webster hit Nash full in the chest but Nash refused to back down. Instead, he held his ground, pleased to have finally got a reaction from Webster. Markham pretended not to notice.
“I’ll set up another duty rota,” he said. “Then we’d best get some sleep.”
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Nash said unabashed. “I’ve still got a few things I need to attend to.”
He started moving off towards the bank of equipment they’d assembled at the rear of the camp.
Webster watched him go and then looked to Markham for his reaction.
Markham simply shrugged.
Considering that Nash was supposed to be on their side, it felt like there was still an awful lot he wasn’t telling them.
*
Webster was asleep when the first attack came. Once he’d freed himself from the confines of his sleeping bag he had to scurry around on his hands and knees looking for his rifle. All the while this was going on he could hear the crack of automatic weaponry with the odd muffled explosion in the background.
He took a deep breath before exiting his tent. There was no telling what had been going on since he’d fallen asleep and he was surprised that no one had tried to alert him.
Once outside, he stayed as close to the ground as possible. With the enemy at such close quarters the obvious thing to do would have been to dig in, but you couldn’t do that on solid ice. Instead, they’d had to scavenge around for ways to fortify their fighting positions and found piles of interlocking ferro concrete sections they could use. Th
ey’d been left there some time earlier with the intention no doubt of building a permanent camp here. Not that that was likely to happen now.
Webster managed to locate a couple of Marines who pointed him in Markham’s direction.
“What’s going on?” he wanted to know.
“Nothing out the ordinary. They’re just testing our defences – see what they’re up against before they commit themselves.”
“How many of them?”
“Not their full force. Looks like two fire-teams. Just enough to keep us on our toes.”
Markham passed him a pair of night vision glasses and he took a moment to adjust the settings. Not that there was much to see. The Da’al had split into two groups, one at the centre of the lake and another one higher up the bank.
“You said they might try sneaking round,” Webster said.
But Markham made no attempt to take the credit. “Obvious thing to do. We’ve got some sensors up there so we don’t get caught napping.”
The exchange of fire went on for a little over fifteen minutes before the Da’al started to move off, firing the odd shot every now and then to dissuade anyone who might have been considering a pursuit.
“You think that’s it for the night?” Webster said.
“I very much doubt it. They’re testing us, that’s all. No doubt they’ll try again later. If nothing else, they’ll disrupt our sleep.”
“Okay,” Webster said, unsure whether Markham still saw him as an observer in all this rather than an active combatant. “What about Nash? Can’t see him sleeping through this.”
“Mr Nash has yet to go to bed. He’s been keeping himself busy back there.”
He pointed over in the direction of the crashed ship.
Markham was pointedly not saying what it was that Nash was up to but the inference was clear enough: you’d better go and check out what he’s doing.
Webster held up the night vision glasses, as if asking for permission to take them, and Markham nodded.
Nash was on his own, two hundred metres away to the right of the ship. He was the only thing moving in the entire landscape. He had his shovel out and appeared to be in the process of burying something in the ice. On the floor next to him was a bulky canvas bag.
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