Alarm of War (36 page)

There was a long moment of confused silence, then a confusion of voices as the other captains tried to make sense out of what was going on. She looked at the holo display again.

The new Dominion reinforcements were sweeping in from the northwest, not yet in missile range. The supply ships were turning frantically to the right and the original Dominion escort was now accelerating briskly toward the drones.

In just a few minutes, the supply ships would be totally exposed. Not for long, but long enough. And if they could kill the supply ships, Atlas might stand a chance, and with Atlas, all of Victoria.

“Joe, what the hell are you doing?” It was Captain Rowe of the Bristol.

“I am next in line of command behind Captain Grey,” Wicklow answered calmly. “It is clear that Captain Grey is no longer in command of her ship. She would never have ordered this attack.”

“Gods of our Mothers! Joe, this is no time for-”

“This is precisely the time, Captain Rowe, and I will remind you that I am the senior officer now that Captain Grey is no longer able to command.”

“What do you mean? Captain Grey is-”

“If Captain Grey is still in command, I want her to get on the conference net and confirm her suicidal order. Captain Grey? Captain Grey, if you are able, please confirm your orders at once!”

With a desperate glance at Alex Rudd, Emily thumbed the com button. “This is Lieutenant Tuttle of the
New Zealand,
Captain Grey is unable to come to the bridge at this time, but I have orders to execute this attack.”

Wicklow smiled to himself, now it would be easy. “I don’t know what you’ve done to Captain Grey, Lieutenant, but in her absence I hereby take command of the Coldstream Guards. To all ships: Fall back now and follow me to Atlas. Confirm your orders or face disciplinary charges!”

Later, Emily was surprised that she hadn’t needed more time to make the decision, but as she listened to Wicklow and mentally compared him to Captain Grey, broken, bleeding and resolute in her duty, there really was no choice.

“Sir, I respectfully must decline your order to retreat as I am already under orders from Captain Grey, who is both superior to you and is my commanding officer.” Even as she said it, Emily felt like she was outside her body, watching herself say someone else’s lines. She was dimly aware that Rudd was staring at her, open-mouthed. From the com screen, twelve faces suddenly stared at her.

“This is insubordination!” Wicklow gritted. Who
was
this foolish woman?

“Not at all, Sir,” Emily said calmly. “I am obeying my orders. Admiral Douthat ordered us to destroy the enemy supply ships, and Captain Grey ordered me to attack them.”

“Don’t play lawyer with me, Tuttle,” he snapped. He leaned into the camera and pounded his fist against the console. “That was before the Dominion reinforcements arrived. We have to fall back and I will
not
have my orders questioned by a junior officer.”

“Be that as it may, Captain Wicklow, I will obey my standing orders. The supply ships are our absolute priority, even if it means endangering this attack force. Admiral Douthat was clear on that. In just a few minutes, we will have a window in which to fire on the supply ships. With luck, we will be able to escape from the reinforcements before they get too close.”

Wicklow smiled slightly, and Emily knew then that she had somehow fallen into his trap. “Lieutenant Tuttle, I charge you with insubordination, desertion and cowardness. You are under arrest.”

Emily stared at him incredulously, but her shock gave way to anger. She snapped her fingers at Chief Gibson and pointed at her eyes. Gibson looked startled and glanced at Alex Rudd for confirmation.

Rudd nodded, looking unhappy. “Do it, Chief.” A moment later the
New
Zealand’s targeting sensors lashed out and enveloped the
Gloucester.
Lt. Commander Rudd barked: “Weapons Officer, prepare to fire missiles and lasers on my command!”

Captain Wicklow looked down at his instruments, then up to Emily, his expression furious. “Are you mad? You dare to put targeting sensors on the
Gloucester
, one of Her Majesty’s ships?”

There was no turning back, Emily knew. “If you try to interfere with my lawful orders, I will take
any
steps necessary to stop you. I ask you to stand down, sir. Will you comply?” On screen, she raised her hand to give the signal to fire.

Wicklow glowered at her. “Very well, Tuttle, enjoy your little game, but at the end of the day, I will see you hang for this.” Then, addressing the other captains, Wicklow said: “As senior officer of the Coldstream Guards, I am ordering all of you to join me as I return to the space station Atlas, so that we may rejoin the Home Fleet. Anyone who refuses will face charges.
Gloucester
out.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then,

“
Gloucester
, this is
Bristol
. Unable to comply due to standing orders from
New Zealand
.”

“
Gloucester
, this is
Australia
. We are also unable to comply due to standing orders from
New Zealand
.”

“
Gloucester
, this is
Perth
. Unable to comply due to standing orders from
New Zealand
.”

And on they went, all except the destroyer
Canberra
, until the last ship, the tiny frigate
Everest
, issued its reply as well. “
Gloucester
, this is Her Majesty’s Ship
Everest,
Captain Johanna Fuller speaking. I’m sticking with the
New Zealand
. We’ve come too far to shirk our duty now.”

Captain Wicklow’s face grew dark as he stared at each of them in turn. “You shame the uniform you wear,” he said at last. “And I will see to it that none of you wear it much longer.”

A minute later, the
Gloucester
curved away from the small clutch of Coldstream Guards, dutifully followed by the destroyer
Canberra.
In a few moments they were gone. The remaining eight ships stayed in formation around the
New Zealand.

Emily slumped back against her chair, then blew out a breath. “Just one big, happy family,” she said.

“This is not exactly how I pictured the end of my career,” Alex Rudd said mournfully.

“Private call from the
Bristol,”
Betty McCann announced. “It’s Captain Rowe for you, Lieutenant Tuttle.” Emily shot a glance at Rudd, who shrugged.

Captain Rowe’s face appeared on the screen. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “You’re playing a very dangerous game here, young lady.”

Emily looked back at him levelly. Alex Rudd came and sat beside her.

“Alex,” Captain Rowe greeted him. Emily remembered that Alex Rudd had started out as the junior Tactical Officer on the
Bristol.
Rowe turned his attention back to Emily, fixing her with a hard stare.

“No bullshit, Lieutenant. Is Julie Grey dead?”

Emily shook her head. “No, sir, but she’s badly injured.”

He looked at her appraisingly. “Does she know what you’re doing?”

She didn’t want to lie to this man. “Captain Grey gave me specific orders to destroy the enemy’s supply ships, sir. She did not want to give up command to Captain Wicklow for fear he would not fulfill the mission. As to the details, I will tell her when she regains consciousness.” If she regained consciousness.

“Captain Wicklow is within his rights to have your head on a platter, you know that?”

“We have to destroy the Dominion supply train,” she said evenly. “We are out of time. I have a plan in place. Captain Wicklow is content to break contact and run.” Beside her, Rudd nodded in agreement. Rowe’s eyes flickered to him.

“You in on this charade, Alex?”

“All the way,” Rudd replied firmly. “Captain Grey was using Emily’s plan when she was injured in the first attack.”

Chief Gibson was suddenly standing beside them. “I’m in this, too, Captain Rowe.”

Rowe’s face split into a broad grin. “I’ll be dammed, it’s Chief Gibson, the scourge of new lieutenants everywhere. I thought they retired your sorry ass, Chief.”

“Can’t get rid of me, Captain. Fleet’d fall apart in a heartbeat.” He frowned. “Captain, I was with Lieutenant Tuttle when she took out those two freighters that buggered the
Invincible
and
Isle of Man
. If it weren’t for her,
Lionheart
woulda been royally screwed. She’s right smart and she’s plenty fierce. With all respect to Captain Wicklow, nuthin’ timid about her.”

Rowe considered for along moment, then pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay, Tuttle, your show. I’ll do my best to keep Wicklow off you, but fair warning, when all this is over, you’re going to have to pay the piper. And Alex, you’ll be right there with her.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said, not daring to believe what she just heard.

“Good luck.
Bristol
out.”

Emily took a long, shuddering breath.
Get back in the game, girl
. “Sensors! Status report! Where are the escorts and where are the supply ships?”

Chief Gibson pushed young Partridge aside and scanned his readings. “Dominion escorts are firing on our decoys. In another minute or so they’ll burn through the ECM and realize they’ve been suckered. The Dominion supply ships just passed into our missile range, but still at extreme range. They’re not evading yet, so I don’t think they know we’re here.”

“Merlin, assume tactical control of all weapons!”

“I have tactical control of all weapons systems,” Merlin confirmed.

Emily used a wand to mark an area between the Victorian ships and the Dominion group rushing toward them. “I want light chaff cover throughout this area.”

“That is within parameters,” Merlin replied.

”As soon as the chaff is placed, I want EMP bursts here and here, and I want proximity bomblets fired continuously into this area.”

“Munitions levels are low, Lieutenant. We have no more than eighty missiles worth of proximity explosives.”

“Then that will have to do,” she said. “Have lasers recharged?”

Merlin paused, then: “Lasers will complete recharging in thirty three seconds.”

Emily described the maneuver they were going to make. It would look like a backwards question mark, swinging the battle group away from the oncoming bogies and near the supply ships, then continue curving back the way they had come. “Fire lasers at the supply ships when we are at our closest point. If sensors don’t show kills, shoot whatever missiles are available.”

“Incoming missiles!” Gibson warned. “Merlin estimates four hundred plus missiles coming at us from the new bogey. ETA fifteen minutes!”

Emily took a moment to dictate a message to First Fleet to give Admiral Douthat a status report, downloaded it and launched the courier drone. Finished, she pulled her battle harness tight. “All ships, set close defense systems to full automatic! Radical maneuvering in ten seconds!” She took a deep breath. The white, strained faces of her bridge crew stared back at her. “Merlin, commence the firing and maneuvering sequence!” This was going to be very close.

Exhausted and spent, Emily fell back into the confines of the battle harness. She willed herself to relax, but then the
New Zealand
abruptly accelerated to full military speed and snapped to the right. The rest of the Coldstream Guards followed, as if joined at the hip.

“Closing on the supply ships,” Chief Gibson choked out. “Will be at our closest point in six minutes, forty seconds. The missiles from the Dominion reinforcements will reach us in about thirteen minutes.”

Emily caught Rudd’s eyes. He nodded. “Looks like we may be late for dinner,” he said calmly.

Emily worked at giving him a smile, but didn’t think she’d managed it.
Macho bullshit,
she thought. She calculated that each of her remaining ships had thirty three missiles chasing it.
None of us are getting out of this alive.
And the thought, the blunt acknowledgement of it, somehow gave her peace.

I
n the Fleet Intelligence Center on the Atlas Space Station, Admiral Douthat stood behind Hiram Brill’s shoulder, looking intently at the holo display.

“You’re sure?” she asked for the second time.

“Yes, Ma-am, they are falling back. Not very far, but they are definitely falling back.”

“Why?” she mused. “Why not continue to press us?”

Hiram shook his head. He was tired, very tired, and he didn’t think so well when he was tired. “Not enough information, Admiral. It could be any number of things.”

Admiral Douthat tapped her finger thoughtfully against her upper lip. But it wasn’t any number of things, she thought, it was one of two. Either Admiral Mello had fallen back to rearm and coordinate a massive, overwhelming strike, or something had distracted him, something he had to take care of before he could continue the attack on Atlas. She needed to know which it was.

But before she could order a reconnaissance mission, Gandalf broke in. “A courier drone from Captain Grey of the
New Zealand
has entered communications range.”