Alarm of War, Book II: The Other Side of Fear (27 page)

Bugger me!
Zahiri thought savagely.  “Dafna, what’s the position of the Duck scouts working behind us?”

“Still there.  Not overtaking us, but they will if we stop.”

So they couldn’t stop and try to hide while the scouts worked past them.  They had to go up or down.  Down would take them out of the asteroid field within an hour or two, and once out they would be exposed and more vulnerable.  Up would take them either through the asteroid field…or right to the Dominion shipyard.

A thought niggled at her.

Even as she considered it, she was appalled.

Bugger me!
  “Dafna,” she said very calmly, “I want a close-up visual of the bottom of the shipyard.  Show me all of it and we’ll narrow it down from there.”

Dafna looked at her questioningly, but her hands danced over the controls as she guided the nearest drone into position and activated its cameras.  What it showed surprised them all.

The bottom of Siegestor looked like a junk yard.  It was dirty and scarred, with deep oil-stained crevices and shadows.  What few lights had been in place were long since broken.  Pieces of debris clung to the hull everywhere, some sticking out at odd angles, others slowly turning in place, staying in the same position relative to the shipyard as it moved through space.  The accumulation of debris and other junk grew worse toward the stern end, with huge pieces of hull plating hanging loosely and waving back and forth as if blowing in the wind.

“What the hell?” Janson muttered.

Avi Lani left his engineering station for a moment to look at the screen at Dafna’s desk.  He frowned in concentration for a moment, then straightened up and laughed.  “Their gravity generator isn’t properly calibrated,” he said, chuckling.  “The damn thing is projecting a gravity field outside of the ship.  When they throw out some piece of scrap or whatnot, some of it is getting snared by this gravity field along the bottom of the hull.  The junk gets pulled into the hull.  The flat pieces will just lie against the hull, but anything else will keep bouncing and wiggling around.  And this-“ he jabbed a finger at the large pieces of hull plating that waved back and forth – “these are pieces of scrap hull plating that can’t lay flat against the hull for some reason and the movement of the ship is enough to make them oscillate back and forth.  Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Zahiri pursed her lips.
Time to embrace insanity.
“Mildred, I want you to superimpose the hull outline of the
Laughing Owl
on the picture of the bottom of the shipyard and mark for me all of the places where the
Laughing Owl
would fit.”  She could sense Simon and Forrest looking at her as if she was crazy, and perhaps they were not far off.

An outline of the
Laughing Owl
appeared and in five seconds flashed and danced over the bottom of Siegestor, then eight outlines settled into place and flashed slowly.  Zahiri leaned forward and studied them closely.  “Mr. Janson,” she said, pointing.  “That one, I think.  Take us in slowly, flip us over and set us down on the hull right there.”  She sat back and crossed her legs, nausea souring her mouth while she mustered up a look of unconcerned confidence.

The fearless Forrest Janson turned to look at her.  “Ma’am?” he asked weakly.

Zahiri nodded at him.  “It’s okay, Forrest, you were born for this.  Just do it.”

Janson wiped his forehead, then wiped his hands on his shirt and took the controls.  The
Laughing Owl
slid stealthily towards its new home.

         
Chapter 28

On Board Space Station Atlas

When he turned the corner to where his quarters were, Hiram Brill was startled to see two of Queen Anne’s body guards standing in front of his door.  They looked at him, expressionless as usual.

“John, Betty,” he said slowly.  “Is she inside?”

Betty nodded, gesturing towards his door with her chin.  “She and the Admiral have been waiting for you.  Captain Eder, too.”

Hiram’s eyebrows slowly rose.  Queens and high admirals did not go to the private quarters of mere Commanders; they summoned the mere Commanders to come to them.

“Can you give me a hint?” he asked the Queen’s guards.  They said nothing.

“Then I best go in and greet my guests,” he said and slipped by them.  When he entered, Queen Anne and Admiral Douthat were sitting at his small kitchen table and Captain Eder of the
Lionheart
was sitting on the sofa.

Captain Eder waved laconically, Queen Anne smiled warmly and Admiral Douthat scowled darkly.

“Well,” said Hiram, “I confess that I don’t know whether to salute, offer you a drink or ask what’s for dinner.”

Captain Eder chuckled.  Admiral Douthat’s scowl deepened.  “Don’t be a smartass, Brill.”

“No Ma’am,” Hiram said.

“We want to tell you about changes we’ve made to the raid on Siegestor,” Douthat said.  She saw the look on his face and waived a hand.  “Relax, Brill, we are not cancelling it.  Quite the opposite.  You heard the Abbot says that once we go into Dominion space, we’ll have to come out through either the Dominion/Victoria wormhole or a one-way wormhole into Gilead?”

Hiram nodded, his mind still churning.  Would the changes jeopardize his attempt to free Cookie from the Dominion prison ship,
Tartarus
?

“Well, after you take out the big shipyard, the task force, under the command of Captain Eder, is going to return to Victoria using any wormhole he can.  Once in Victorian space the task force will make best speed for the Victoria/Refuge wormhole, where you will attack the Dominion forces there at the same time we launch an attack through the wormhole from the Refuge side.  We’ll catch the Ducks between us.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Admiral,” he said, trying not to stammer.  His mind grappled with the logistical and coordination efforts this would require.

“Good, this of course means some slight changes in tactics and the need to assign the task force additional resources.  Some of those resources will be a dozen of the new transporter Kraits we copied from the Tilleke.” 

Hiram pursed his lips, nodding to himself.  Douthat eyed him levelly.

“So imagine my surprise,” Douthat continued coldly, “when I discovered that you had already arranged for the two destroyers and the cruiser that have been outfitted with transporters to be assigned to the task force without my knowledge, to say nothing of the five hundred Refuge soldiers to be taken along as well.  And imagine my further surprise when I had a little chat with Colonel Tamari of Long Range Reconnaissance and learned that after you take out the shipyard, you intend to assault the Dominion Ship
Tartarus,
which just happens to be visiting the Siegestor.”

Hiram felt the blood slowly drain from his face.  So it was all over.  All his planning, his scheming, his best shot at rescuing Cookie, all gone.

“Really, Admiral,” Queen Anne interrupted, “I have already told you that I specifically authorized Commander Brill to plan and execute this mission.”  Hiram stared at her in dumb disbelief.

“We have information,” the Queen continued, “that the
Tartarus
holds hundreds of political prisoners from the Dominion of Unified Citizenry and may hold prisoners taken from Cornwall itself.  We won’t get another chance like this.  I realize I should have spoken to you much earlier, but the Commander was acting under my instructions.  I might add that he’s done exactly what I asked him to do, and done it very well.”   She smiled at Admiral Douthat.

Admiral Douthat glanced sourly at Brill, then forced her face into neutrality and turned to the Queen.  “Majesty, the purpose of this visit is-“

“The
purpose
of this visit,” Queen Anne interrupted, an edge in her voice, “is to remind all of us that a government will maintain the loyalty and love of its people only so long as that loyalty is reciprocated.”  She pointed to the picture of Cookie on Hiram’s wall.  “Maria Sanchez and one of her fellow soldiers are on the
Tartarus.
  I am alive and here today because of their efforts and their sacrifice, and the idea that we would send a raid into Dominion space right where the
Tartarus
is located and not at least
try
to secure her freedom is abhorrent.  I am sure that this is as obvious to you, Admiral, as it is to me.”

Admiral Douthat bit back a sharp retort.  One does not make a sharp retort to one’s queen and retain expectations of a long, illustrious career.  “Of course, Your Majesty.  With your permission, I will attend to the necessary orders for the raid.”  She glanced at Hiram.  “You’re going, Commander Brill, but let’s be clear: Captain Eder is in charge of the task force.  He determines if the attack on the Siegestor is feasible and, after, but only after it has been destroyed, whether the rescue operation against the
Tartarus
will be attempted.  If it is attempted, Colonel Tamari of the Marines Long Range Reconnaissance will be in complete control of that rescue effort.  Do you understand?”

There was only one possible answer.  “Yes, Admiral.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Queen Anne said.

After Admiral Douthat and Captain Eder left, the Queen looked at Hiram.

“Thank you, Majesty, for covering for me,” Hiram said.

“Do you think so little of me that you thought I would not support your plan to rescue Maria?” Anne asked reproachfully.

Hiram could not think of anything adequate to say.

“You are one of my advisors, Commander.  I cannot have you sneaking around planning operations of this magnitude and consequence without being informed.  Really, I expected better of you.”  She paused and Hiram thought she was stopping, but she was just warming up.  “And really, what were you thinking?  Two destroyers and a cruiser?  Five hundred troops from Refuge.  You even went so far as to involve the Refuge Prime Minister!  Have you lost your senses?  You are not the government, Mr. Brill,
I
am the government!  You cannot take actions of this magnitude on your own; it risks political and diplomatic disaster and I will not have it!  Is that clear to you, Commander, perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.  Thank you again, Your Majesty,” he said.

Queen Anne stood and Hiram scrambled to his feet.  His apartment or not, one does not sit when the Queen is standing.  At the doorway, she turned back to him.

“Do your job, Mr. Brill.  Keep your focus.  Destroy the Dominion shipyard.  And then bring her back.”  Then she was gone, leaving Hiram standing there in his kitchen, swept with equal parts relief, jubilation, determination and dread.

Chapter 29

On Board the Space Station Atlas

It was Emily’s last night on the Atlas.  The following morning at 0700 she would transfer to the Refuge Carrier
Rabat
, which would be her command center for the duration of the raid.  She was utterly exhausted, having spent the last weeks planning, training and debriefing with her gunboat crews all hours of the night and day. 

There had been a surprising number of reassignments, with pilots being shifted to Systems or Weapons and other crew being moved around.  Emily and her command staff discovered that despite the elaborate testing, people were often better at something other than what the test scores suggested.  In two cases, personality conflicts had led to completely breaking up the gunboats’ crews, and five people had been sent home because they just weren’t making the grade. 

The other surprising thing was that the natural leader on each ship was not necessarily the pilot.  Sometimes the person with the best sense of the battle –
and
the person the others would trust and follow – was the Systems Operator, who could see the shape of the battle from his or her sensor display and guide the pilot through the tactics needed to accomplish the mission.  Initially there was some hesitancy to make someone other than the pilot the gunboat chief; it just went against the ingrained custom and belief of both the Refuge Coast Guard and the Victorian Fleet.  But finally Emily put an end to the debate. 

"Forget tradition," she said.  "Tradition got our asses kicked by the Ducks.  Better something that works than go down with our traditions intact."

The good news was that they managed to recruit and train another fifteen crews from Refuge and, unexpectedly, from the Tugboat Guild.   That brought her total fleet of heavy gunboats up to 198.   The task force would have three pocket carriers, which between them could hold all of the gunboats, plus five of the newly built Krait ships copied from the Tilleke.  In addition they would have a fourth carrier, the
Meknes
, which would act as the repair and refurbishment platform for all of the task force’s ships, including the tugboats.

The work pace had been frantic and the work load crushing, so she had finally given everyone liberty for the last day, but had ended up tying up loose ends herself until just before dinner.  Now she wanted a drink, a hot shower and a bed and she didn’t care much about the order they came in.  Her quarters on Atlas were at the end of a corridor behind a row of retail shops and restaurants and she could smell food cooking..  It was redolent with stir fried vegetables, peanut oil, sesame and something else she couldn’t quite identify and she impulsively changed direction to go.  She emerged from the restaurant ten minutes later with a large carry-out order and two bottles of chilled beer to wash it down.  She had never heard before about a Thai restaurant, but she promised herself she would look up the planet Thai and read all about it.

She opened a bottle of beer and had one long, satisfying drink, then spooned some of the food onto a plate.  Gods of Our Mothers, it smelled divine.  Her mouth watered.  She sat down at the table, the beer in one hand and a fork in the other. 
Life is good,
she thought with a chuckle.

The door chime sounded.

"Oh, bugger me!" she snarled under her breath, then to the apartment's AI, "Activate comm!"

"Activated," the AI replied.

"Who is it?" Emily growled less than graciously.

"Emily?  It's me, Raf."

Emily blinked.  Rafael, here?  She knew he was assigned to one of the carriers.  He was leading the force of Refuge Long Range Recon troops and would spearhead the attack on the Dominion prison ship holding Cookie.  When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was a grogon at eye level, staring at her with a demented grin that revealed two long, floppy fangs.

Floppy fangs?

"This is from Nouar," he said, laughing and handed her the stuffed animal.  Speechless, Emily took it and held it up to take a closer look.  It was a child's toy, an old and battered toy animal about a foot and half long, with large red eyes, worn and matted fur, a chewed ear and stitches in several places revealing that whoever had loved this stuffed animal had loved it vigorously. 

"Nouar and Leila came to visit me a couple of days ago, just before we began to ship up to the
Haifa.
  Nouar said this is for you and that you would know what to do with it."  He gave her a look of frank appraisal.  "Nouar has had this grogon doll since she was six weeks old and loves it fiercely-" he grinned suddenly, a flash of very white teeth against his tanned face - "like everything else she does.  I have to tell you that I was surprised she was willing to part with it.  She told me to tell you that when you don't need it any more, to send it back to her unless you find someone who needs it more."

Emily hugged the little stuffed grogon to her chest.  Its fur was very soft and it smelled of...soap?  She laughed then, picturing a very young Nouar meticulously shampooing her stuffed animal.  "What's its name?"

"It is not an 'it,' it is a 'she.'  And her name is
Fierce Grogon
, because, as Nouar explained to us, that is what she is."

"Please thank her for me," Emily said, still hugging Fierce Grogon.

"Oh, you'll get to thank her yourself," Rafael said.  "Once we're back you have a standing invitation to dinner in Ouididi."   Emily thought for a moment about all that would happen, and all that might happen, before she and Rafael and the thousands of others could return to Refuge, and then pushed it aside.  Not tonight.  Not now.

"Have you had dinner?  I just got some Thai food and a couple of beers.  It's delicious."

Rafael brightened.  "Beats the hell out of the ship galley leftovers, but are you sure?  I know it must be crazy, trying to get everything wrapped up for tomorrow."

Emily stepped back and gestured him to enter.  "My work for the day is done.  If I don't relax tonight I'm going to be worthless tomorrow, so come in.  How are your mothers?  And Yael, tell me about Yael."

With Fierce Grogon sitting as guest of honor at the end of the table, they ate the Thai food and drank the beers, then Rafael went out and brought back four more beers and two more dinners from the same restaurant.

"What did you get?" Emily asked.  Rafael shrugged.  "I have no idea.  I told him to give me something good.  He said one is spicy and one is not, but that we will like them both."  So they opened more beer and fell into the food.  The chef had lied: both meals were spicy.  One was simply
very
spicy, the other was mind-blowingly hot.  Red-faced, eyes watering, they hurriedly drank more beer, then cautiously resumed eating.

"By the One," Rafael gasped, "he told me it would be memorable, but this…"

They talked about his family, about her deceased mother, laughed about some of the incidents at Camp Gettysburg and, inevitably, they talked about the coming raid on the Dominion shipyard, and the rescue attempt against the Dominion prison ship,
Tartarus.

"Listen," Rafael told her, "I'm not cleared to know the details of the raid on the shipyard, but I do know we are only sending a battleship, a cruiser and two destroyers, plus of course your Heavy Gunboat Wing.  I have no idea what the defenses will be, but is this task force big enough to take out a heavily defended shipyard?"

Emily nodded.  "Thanks to Hiram, we have a little something up our sleeve, so yes; we think we can take it out.  Won't be easy, but we think it can be done.  And what about the
Tartarus
?  Can your men seize the ship?"

Rafael smiled rakishly.  "Oh, we'll take it, on my honor, we'll take it.  Just get us on board in one piece and we'll take it, even if we have to use those silly swords."

"Pretty bold words for a man who was treed by nothing more than a few cute little grogin," Emily teased.

Rafael snorted.  "And this from a woman who can't hit the side of a house with a sonic rifle set wide open?"

"Barn, not house."

Rafael flicked his hand dismissively.  "Either, both."

"At least I had sense enough to call in an armed shuttle," she countered.

Rafael tsked.  "And where's the honor in that?  Only a flatlander would think calling in the Fleet was better than defeating the grogin hoards singlehandedly."

"Defeating the grogin hoards?  Is that what you were doing when you bounced off that tree?  Come to think of it, they did almost die laughing!"

"The tree got in the way, was all.  Just a momentary setback."

Emily grinned, shaking her head.  "Do you remember that big Alpha bitch, how when the shuttle came she 'saluted' us with a raised leg and a spray of urine?"

Rafael chuckled.  "Just giving us a little reminder that it is still
her
mountain."

Smiling, Emily looked around the room, trying hard not to look at Raf.  She was having some rather lurid fantasies and knew it must be the stress of the coming operation, knew it would be a bad idea, but knew she did not want to be alone on this last night before they left for Dominion space.  Unconsciously she rubbed her fingers over the bump on the fleshy inside of her arm where the required contraceptive was.  The Fleet wasn’t so foolish as to think people would refrain from sex, but it didn’t want any unintended pregnancies, either. She closed her eyes, trying to untangle her emotions.  She wanted to do this.  She was afraid to do this.  She needed to do this.  She opened her eyes.  Raf was looking at her intently.

"Raf, we're both shipping out tomorrow," she started, then stopped.

Neither one of them said anything.  The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt thicker, deliciously charged, and fraught with possibility.

Emily leaned across the table.  "In Victoria we have a tradition that the night before a battle, the commander takes a long, hot shower."  She paused, eyeing him steadily.

Rafael's eyebrows rose.  "Tradition is a good thing," he said, nodding cautiously.

"In the tradition someone she cares about washes her back and spends the night with her," Emily continued.

Raf's eyes widened in mock surprise.  "Emily Tuttle!  What would Nouar say if she could hear us now?"

"Nouar would tell you to get on with it!"  She leaned over the table and kissed him.  He tasted of rice beer and fiery curry.  When he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, she scooped up Fierce Grogon from the kitchen table.

“I’m not sure this is what Nouar had in mind when she gave you Fierce Grogon,” Raf chuckled, gently putting her down on the bed.

“It’s a start,” Emily said, “a beginning.”  She carefully put the stuffed animal on the nightstand. 

Raf looked at her seriously.  “Is this a beginning, Emily Tuttle?  Is that what you want it to be?” he asked very softly.

Emily felt the color high in her cheeks.  She leaned forward to unbutton his shirt.  “I don’t know,” she murmured, “but I want to find out.”

All through the night, amidst the cries of passion and moans of pleasure, the whispered endearments, the soft laughter and the easy breathing of deep, forgiving sleep, the stuffed grogon with the chewed ear and floppy fangs kept a watchful vigil over them, holding reality at bay for a few precious hours.