A World of Hurt

by David Sherman

"Gentlemen, I don't know what this dressing is made of, much less where its ingredients come from, but it has made this salad one of my favorite dishes. Please, Ted, Ike, sample it." He handed the ladle to Ramadan, who put a dollop on a corner of his salad and tasted. His eyes opened wide, as did Sturgeon's at the other end of the table when the smiling Maugli offered some to him.

  As he ladled more of the dressing on his salad, Sturgeon said, "You say you discovered it in a restaurant on Melbourne. If you don't know what's in it, or where its ingredients come from, how did it come to be on your menu?"

  Boreland smiled and drenched his own salad with dressing as he answered. "When I returned to my ship, I asked the chief of mess if he knew the dish. He didn't, but promised to look into it. I don't know what happened when he visited the chef at Curlie's, but when he came back, he had the recipe. He told me what the portions are, but refused to say anything about the dressing." He shook his head. "Chiefs of mess are as bad as civilian chefs when it comes to secrets. I don't know--and don't even want to think about--what the chief had to do to get that recipe."

  "Have you been back to Curlie's since then?" Sturgeon asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  "Every time I've been to Melbourne."

  Then they stopped talking and paid attention to their food, pausing only occasionally to wash a morsel down with a sip of wine.

  After the dishes were cleared away, they sat sipping cognac and puffing on Davidoff Anniversario No. 1's provided by Colonel Ramadan, discussing the ways they were dealing with the inevitable morale problems raised by 34th FIST's quarantine and the supposed loss of the Grandar Bay. So far there hadn't been many major problems with the junior people; few of the Marines had families on other worlds who were expecting them to come home soon, and the seriousness of their situation hadn't yet sunk into most of the sailors. There were more problems with the officers and middle-level NCOs and petty officers, who saw their possibilities of career advancement by any means other than the death or incapacitation of higher ranking people cut off. As for the commanders themselves, both Sturgeon and Boreland saw themselves frozen in what they considered the best duty a Marine or navy officer could wish for. Colonel Ramadan enjoyed being a FIST executive officer and had no aspirations for a command of his own or staff duty in a higher headquarters somewhere. Captain Maugli kept his own counsel.

  "Excuse me," Boreland said when a beep drew his attention. He turned away from the table and spoke into his comm. "Commodore here." He listened for a moment, then said, "I'll be there immediately," and signed off.

  "Gentlemen," he announced as he rose to his feet and headed for the bridge, "it appears that Maugham's Station is under assault by an unknown force--and the Combat Information Center reports that a flotilla of unidentified starships is on an intercept vector with us."

  The others jumped up and headed out of the salon.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "The commodore is on the bridge!" the officer of the deck announced.

  "Carry on," Commodore Boreland said as he stepped through the hatch, followed by Brigadier Sturgeon. Colonel Ramadan and Captain Maugli had gone to their own duty stations.

  The bo'sun nodded at Boreland, then returned his attention to overseeing the petty officers and seamen of the bridge watch. Nobody else so much as glanced in the commodore's direction.

  Boreland stood near the left shoulder of the ensign who was serving as the assistant officer of the deck and looked at the navigation radar globe the AOD was studying; the Grandar Bay was centered in the globe, and Maugham's Station was a larger dot toward one edge. "That's them?" he asked, using a laser pointer to indicate a cluster of dots to one side.

  "Yessir." The AOD didn't shift his eyes from their concentration on the radar globe.

  "Show me."

  The AOD touched controls and a line appeared, running from Maugham's Station through the dot that represented the Grandar Bay, and on to the edge of the globe. Another line ran through the cluster of dots for the unidentified flotilla. The two lines crossed midway between the Grandar Bay's position and the edge of the globe.

  "Has CIC identified them yet?"

  "No positive IDs yet, sir. Tentative ID is one heavy cruiser, three destroyers, and five smaller starships--the smaller ships might be spaceships rather than starships, but CIC says that identification is unlikely." Spaceships, unlike starships, only functioned within a planetary system and were incapable of interstellar travel. Maugham's Station didn't have any spaceships, much less starships."

  "Communications?"

  "Radio reports there has been no response to broad-spectrum communications. If they are communicating among themselves, they're using lasers or tight directionals that we can't pick up."

  "Estimated time of intercept?" Boreland asked the quartermaster's mate first class, who was the duty navigator.

  "At current velocities and vectors, twenty-five hours, seventeen minutes standard, sir," the navigator replied. "At current velocity, we are twenty-seven hours, forty-eight minutes standard from our plotted jump point. At flank speed we can reach jump point in fourteen hours standard."

  "Thank you. Good work, both of you. Keep me informed." Boreland turned from the nav globe and stepped over to the OOD. "What do we know about the situation planetside?"

  "Sir, a starship took out the geosync before local authorities could transmit anything more than that the geosync was under attack. CIC reports that at the same time, a flotilla of four ships took position opposite Ammon and began dropping shuttles in combat-assault landing mode."

  Boreland said softly to Sturgeon, "It looks as if perhaps our mission to Maugham's Station isn't over."

  "It does indeed."

  Boreland turned back to the OOD. "Contact CIC and request their very latest data, then sound the maneuver alert." He turned to the second class on the helm. "Notify engines to prepare to reverse course."

  "Aye aye, sir," the helmsman said, and began talking into the engineering comm.

  The OOD finished talking to the Combat Information Center and turned on the ship's PA system. A bo' sun's whistle sounded throughout the Grandar Bay. "Now hear this," the officer of the deck said into the PA system. "All hands not at duty stations, retire at once to your berthing spaces and prepare to secure for maneuvers. I say again, all hands not at duty stations, retire at once to your berthing spaces and prepare to secure for maneuvers." He pushed a button, and the whistle sounded again, then he turned the PA off and turned to Boreland. "Sir, CIC reports planetside signals are very faint, but there seems to be fighting going on where the shuttles from the bogies landed. There are still no communications with Maugham's Station. Also, CIC reports they have made tentative ID of one of the approaching starships." He gave Boreland a smile that was half apologetic, half disbelieving. "The one CIC tentatively identified as a heavy cruiser, they now say it might be a King-class dreadnought."

  Boreland nodded as though that explained everything. "I want to know every world that might still have Kings in service."

  Before the OOD could respond to the order, he returned his attention to his comm. After a brief exchange, he said, "Sir, CIC reports another flotilla of seven ships approaching Maugham's Station. They tentatively ID at least two of them as deep-space tugs."

  "Very well." He looked at Sturgeon, who simply nodded. "Sound the alert," Boreland instructed the OOD. "Reverse maneuver in two minutes. Helm, notify engineering." He and Sturgeon strapped themselves into acceleration couches.

  The bo'sun's whistle sounded throughout the ship once more, this time followed by the carefully modulated female voice that said, "Now hear this. All hands, now hear this. All hands secure for maneuver. Maneuver will commence in two minutes. All hands secure for maneuver," again followed by the whistle. The voice repeated the alert three times at thirty second intervals, then ten second intervals until ten seconds remained, when it counted the last seconds down.

  At zero seconds, side-mounted rockets fore and aft fired, spinning the mighty ship
around stem to stern to face back toward Maugham's Station. The Grandar Bay shuddered as her main engines fired for the first time in two days. The artificial gravity had been turned off one minute before the Grandar Bay began to turn about. Now gravity began to return--as acceleration g-force, directed toward the stern; toward the aft bulkheads throughout the starship rather than the decks. Anyone and anything not secured fell toward the bulkheads as if dropped.

  Slowly, slowly, the mighty starship's relative velocity dropped until she stopped receding from Maugham's Station and she reversed her vector. As slowly as she had stopped, the Grandar Bay gained velocity.

  "What is the intercept flotilla doing?" Boreland asked the AOD.

  "Nothing that I can see, sir."

  "What does CIC say?" Boreland asked the OOD.

  The officer of the deck spoke into the CIC comm, listened, then said, "Sir, CIC reports no action on the part of the intercept flotilla."

  "Restore artificial gravity when we reach flank speed. I'm returning to my quarters. Inform me immediately of any change in the disposition of the unidentified ships."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Sturgeon stepped off the bridge ahead of Boreland. "How long will it take for us to get back to Maugham's Station?" he asked.

  "At flank speed? About a day and a half. With violent deceleration at the end."

  "I'm going to assemble my staff and inform them of what's happening. You'll keep me informed? We'll need to know something of what's going on planetside in order to make any plans."

  "I'll even keep you informed of what's going on in space."

  "What is that pirate doing?" Admiral of the Starry Heavens Sativa Orange shrieked when he saw the change in the track he was following in the radar globe.

  "Sir, she's reversed," the radar officer answered. "She's heading back toward Maugham's Station."

  "Going back?" Admiral Orange squeaked. "She can't be going back. Why would she go back?"

  The navigator opted for the better part of valor and said nothing. Neither did anyone else on the bridge.

  Admiral Orange fretted and scowled, trying to decide what to do about his quarry's unexpected maneuver. None of his primary staff was present for him to hector for advice, they were all in their own flagships, leading task forces--except for Vice Admiral Toke, who commanded the task force led by the dreadnought Groovy, on which he also had his command center. But Orange had lost all confidence in Toke's advice; besides, the flotilla commander wasn't on the bridge to offer advice if he did decide to ask her.

  Task forces, that's it! he suddenly realized. Task Force Crashpad was already on station at Maugham's Station. The gator ships wouldn't be able to do anything against the Mandalay headed toward them, but the Goin'on was an Omaha-class light cruiser, the most modern and powerful starship in We're Here!'s navy; she should have no trouble killing or disabling the pirate. And she was right there, with two task forces of warships!

  "Captain!" he barked. "Communicate with all ships of Task Force Toke and Task Force Head. Instruct them to change vector to pursue the pirate at flank speed!" When he didn't get the immediate reply he expected, he looked around. The Groovy's captain wasn't on the bridge. "OOD, did you hear me?" he barked.

  "Yessir!"

  "Well, what are you waiting for? Communicate with the other ships!"

  "Aye aye, sir." The OOD spoke into his comm and instructed the radio shack to order all starships of the two task forces to change direction and head for Maugham's Station.

  Of course, Admiral Orange hadn't given any instructions regarding the timing of the turns, or about maintaining formation. So the nine starships of the two flotillas each immediately began turning, which meant no two of them turned at the same time. And, being of various classes and ages, they weren't all able to change vector at the same rate. In the two hours it took for the nine starships to receive the order and complete their turns, the tight formations they had been in disappeared, and they were spread out over such a large portion of planetary space that few of them were in position to support any of the others.

  If that wasn't enough, the different classes of starship had different flank speeds. As the nine starships of the two flotillas raced after the Grandar Bay, they spread out farther. The spread was exacerbated by the fact that most of them could only run their engines for a limited time before they had to turn them off, either to cool them or to conserve fuel.

  Either Admiral Orange didn't notice the increasing spread or he didn't realize the significance. Or, just possibly, he didn't care.

  Commodore Boreland, on the other hand, knew full well the significance of the lack of formation on the part of the still unidentified and presumably hostile fleet. There were half a dozen worlds that might still have King-class dreadnoughts in service. None of them was known as a naval power, so the evident lack of intelligent command behind the nine pursuing starships was no hint as to which of the six they might be from.

  "They're falling farther behind, sir," the assistant officer of the deck reported.

  Boreland grunted. He wasn't surprised; if the King was typical of that fleet, none of them could come near matching the Grandar Bay's speed in Space-3. So unless they had weapons to match those of the Skink starships he'd fought in orbit around Kingdom and Society 419, they didn't worry him at all yet.

  Of far greater importance just then was the situation on Maugham's Station.

  "I'll be in the radio shack if anybody needs me," he told the OOD.

  Captain Wilma Arden rose to her feet but didn't come to attention when Boreland entered the radio shack.

  "Have you established comm with anyone on Maugham's Station?" he asked.

  "Nossir. Either the geosync was destroyed or it's been occupied and turned off--or it's not replying to our signals for other reasons. But we are picking up transients. Here's the log." She leaned over and touched a control on her console.

  Boreland sat at her station and skimmed the log entries. "Do you have transcripts?" he asked when he saw that the log only noted messages sent and messages intercepted.

  "Yessir. Highlight the entry you want to read and click."

  The commodore didn't bother to look at any of the Grandar Bay's attempts to contact Maugham's Station, he went straight to the intercepts. There were two groups--one from Ammon, the other from the opposite side of the world. Not many had broken through the ionosphere, and those that had were fragmentary.

  "Does intelligence have these?"

  "I don't know, sir, I didn't want to risk missing any transients, so I didn't take the time to check with them."

  "What about from the unknowns on station?"

  "Either they aren't transmitting or they're using tight beams."

  The intercepts from the populated area of Maugham's Station were fragments of normal commercial broadcasts, and a few freak police transmissions. None indicated any awareness that an invasion force had landed on the opposite side of the world. The most significant intercept was a commercially broadcast message from President Menno, who said they had no idea who the starship was that had attacked the geosync or why they did it. Neither did he know where the starship went after the attack.

  The intercepts from the far side were even more fragmentary. All Boreland could tell from them was it appeared that heavy ground combat was going on, but it was impossible to tell from the transcripts whose forces were involved.

  "Are these translated?"

  "No, they spoke English." That told Boreland nothing. Some worlds preserved old languages, but English was the common language of the Confederation of Human Worlds and the primary language spoken on many of its member worlds.

  "How many different units could you identify?" he asked.

  "Sir? I don't understand."

  "Did you hear the intercepts?"

  "Yessir," she said, realizing what he meant. "There were many different voices, but they all seemed to have the same accent. None of them sounded like the accent I heard on transmissions from Ammon."
/>   "Let me hear one."

  Arden pressed a control, and the speaker next to the console's main display emitted a static-filled voice. "Over there, they're over there! Get them!" the half-panicked voice shouted.

  Boreland leaned back and listened as the intercept was replayed. Though the accent was distinct, with drawn-out vowels and many mushy consonants, he didn't recognize it. "They all spoke like this?" he asked.

  "Everyone I listened to."

  He looked at the log again and found a longer intercept that wasn't broken up too much with static. "Send this one to the bridge," he ordered, and stood to leave the radio shack.

  "Aye aye, sir." Arden resumed her seat, to send the recording to the bridge.

  "Good job, Wilma," Boreland said on his way out.

  Back on the bridge, he picked up the PA comm and nodded for the bo'sun's whistle to be sounded. After the whistle trilled, he said, "Now hear this. All hands, now hear this. This is the commodore speaking. I am about to play a radio intercept from Maugham's Station. Listen to it carefully. The voice has a distinct accent. If anyone recognizes the accent, inform your section chief immediately. Officers and chiefs, if anybody recognizes the accent, I want to be informed as fast as you can get the information to me. Stand by for the transmission." He looked at the OOD and nodded.

  The officer of the deck had prepared the intercept for broadcast as soon as he realized Boreland's intent and sent it. The intercept was nine seconds long. He repeated it twice, then Boreland took the comm again.

  "All hands, this is the commodore. If anyone recognizes that accent, I want to know immediately. That is all." He nodded at the OOD, and the bo'sun's whistle sounded once more before the PA clicked off.

  Boreland settled back and waited, but nobody reported recognizing the accent.

  The Grandar Bay was twelve hours standard from deceleration, and the main thrusters had been off for several hours when she turned about so her stern was pointed at Maugham's Station. Normal gravity was restored as soon as the turning maneuver was completed. Radar showed that the distance between the Grandar Bay and the trailing fleet was still increasing, and that the followers were stringing out even farther. In the radio shack, Captain Wilma Arden and her crew were intercepting more fragmentary transmissions from Ammon and the fighting at its antipodes. Still, none of the intercepts gave any indication of awareness of the invasion, and the destruction or capture of the geosync satellite was still a mystery--at least for public dissemination. The intercepts from the antipodes continued to indicate intense fighting, though all the transmissions seemed to be from one side of the battle.