“Can our own sensors compensate?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. At the moment, the voidhawks will provide us with an immediate warning of any emergence. But we’ve launched a full
complement of gravitonic distortion detector satellites. They’ll provide coverage out to quarter of a million kilometres when
they’re in position; that’s in about another twenty minutes, which will free the voidhawks for their next duty.”
“Good, in that case we won’t make an issue of this.”
“Sir.”
“Lieutenant Rhoecus, voidhawk status, please.”
“Yes, Admiral,” the Edenist replied. “There are definitely no ships inside any of Mirchusko’s rings. However, we cannot give
any guarantees about smaller stealthed spy satellites. Two hundred and fifty ELINT satellites have been deployed so far, which
gives us a high probability of detecting any transmission should there be a spy system observing the habitat. The
Myoho
and the
Oenone
are launching further ELINTs into orbit around each of Mirchusko’s moons in case there’s anything hiding on or under the
surface.”
“Excellent. What about covering the rest of the system?”
“We’ve already worked out a swallow flight plan for each voidhawk which will allow them to conduct a preliminary survey in
fifteen hours. It will be somewhat cursory, but if there is another ship within two AUs of Mirchusko they should find it.
Clear space provides much fewer problems than a gas giant environment.”
“Several blackhawk captains offered to assist us, Admiral,” Commander Kroeber said. “I declined for now, but told them that
Admiral Kolhammer may want them for the next stage.”
Meredith resisted a glance in the flagship captain’s direction. “I see. Have you ever served with Admiral Kolhammer, Mircea?”
“No, sir, I haven’t had that pleasure.”
“Well, for your information, I consider it unlikely he’d want the blackhawks along.”
“Yes, sir.”
Meredith raised his voice to address the bridge officers in eneral. “Well done, ladies and gentlemen. You seem to have organized
this securement most efficiently. My compliments. Commander, please take the
Arikara
out to our englobement coordinate, in your own time.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Acceleration returned to the bridge, building to a third of a gee. Meredith studied the tactical situation display, familiarising
himself with the squadron’s formation. He was quietly content with the way his ships and crews were performing, especially
after the trauma of Lalonde. Unlike some navy officers, Meredith didn’t regard the blackhawks as universally villainous, he
liked to consider himself a more sophisticated realist than that. If they were going to be betrayed, it was likely to be by
an outside agency such as a stealthed spy satellite. But even then, a starship would have to collect the information.
“Lieutenant Lowie, would it be possible to eliminate any spy system hiding in the rings by emping them?”
“Sir, it would require complete saturation,” the weapons officer said. “If the Organization has hidden a satellite out there
its circuitry will be hardened. The fusion explosion would have to be inside twenty kilometres to guarantee elimination. We
don’t have that many bombs.”
“I see. Just an idea. Rhoecus, I’d like to keep a couple of voidhawks in orbit around Mirchusko so they can monitor starships
emerging outside our own sensor range. What effect will that have on the survey?”
“Approximate increase of six hours, Admiral.”
“Damn, that’s pushing our time envelope.” He consulted the tactical situation display again, running analysis programs to
calculate the most effective option.
A red dot flared into existence barely ten thousand kilometres away, surrounded by symbols: a wormhole terminus disgorging
a ship. And it was nowhere near any of Tranquillity’s designated emergence zones. Another red dot appeared less than a second
later. A third. A fourth. Three more.
“What the hell?”
“Not voidhawks, sir,” Lieutenant Rhoecus said. “No affinity broadcasts at all. They’re not responding to Tranquillity or squadron
voidhawks, either.”
“Commander Kroeber, squadron to combat status. Rhoecus, recall the voidhawks. Can someone get me a visual identification?”
“Coming, sir,” Lieutenant Grese datavised. “Two of the intruders are close to an SD sensor satellite.”
More wormhole termini were opening.
Arikara
’s thermo-dump panels and long-range sensor clusters sank back into their fuselage recesses. The warship’s acceleration increased
as it sped out to its englobement coordinate.
“Got it, Admiral. Oh, Lord, definitely hostile.”
The image relayed into Meredith’s neural nanonics showed him a charcoal-grey eagle with a wingspan of nearly two hundred metres;
its eyes gleamed yellow above a long chrome-silver beak. His body tensed in reflex, pushing him deeper into the acceleration
couch. That was one massively evil-looking creature.
“Hellhawk, sir. Must be from Valisk.”
“Thank you, Grese. Confirm the other intruder identities, please.”
The tactical situation display showed him twenty-seven bitek starships had now emerged from their wormholes. Another fifteen
termini were opening. It was only seven seconds since the first had appeared.
“All of them are hellhawks, sir; eight bird types, four bogus starships, the rest conform to standard blackhawk profile.”
“Admiral, the voidhawks have all swallowed back to Tranquillity,” Rhoecus said. “Moving out to reinforce the englobement formation.”
Meredith watched their purple vector lines slice across the tactical situation display, twisting around to reach the other
squadron ships. No use, Meredith thought, no use at all. Fifty-eight hellhawks were ranged against them now, forming a loose
ring around the habitat. Tactical analysis programs were giving him an extremely small probability of a successful defensive
engagement, even with the squadron backed up by Tranquillity’s SD platforms. And that was reducing still further as more hellhawks
continued to swallow in.
“Commander Kroeber, get those blackhawks Tranquillity was using as patrol ships out here as fast as possible.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Sir!” Grese shouted. “We’re registering more gravitonic distortions. Adamist ships, this time. Multiple emergence patterns.”
The tactical situation display showed Meredith two small constellations of red dots lighting up. The first was fifteen thousand
kilometres ahead of Tranquillity, while the second trailed it by roughly the same amount. Dear God, and I thought Lalonde
was bad. “Lieutenant Rhoecus.”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“The
Ilex
and the
Myoho
are to disengage. They are ordered to fly to Avon immediately and warn Trafalgar what has happened here. Under no circumstances
is Admiral Kol-hammer to bring his task force to Mirchusko.”
“But, sir…”
“That was an order, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Grese, can you identify the new intruders?”
“I think so, sir. I think it’s the Organization fleet. Visual sensors show front-line warships; I’ve got frigates, some battle
cruisers, several destroyers, and plenty of combat-capable commercial vehicles.”
Large sections of the tactical situation display dissolved into yellow and purple hash as electronic warfare pods spun away
from the hellhawks, coming on line as soon as they were clear of the energistic effect. The voidhawks continued to supply
information on emerging starships. There were now seventy hellhawks ringing Tranquillity; with a hundred and thirty Adamist
ships holding station on either side of it.
Arikara
’s bridge had fallen completely silent.
“Sir,” Rhoecus said. “
Ilex
and
Myoho
have swallowed out.”
Meredith nodded. “Good.” There wasn’t a hell of a lot more he could say. “Commander Kroeber, please signal the enemy fleet.
Ask them… Ask them what they want.”
“Aye, sir.”
The tactical situation computer datavised an alarm.
“Combat wasp launch!” Lowie shouted. “The hellhawks have fired.”
At such close range, there was nothing the electronic warfare barrage could do to hide the burst of yellow solid rocket exhausts
from Meredith’s squadron. Each of the hellhawks had launched fifteen combat wasps. Spent solid rocket casings separated as
the dazzling plumes of fusion fire sprang out, and they began to accelerate in towards the habitat at twenty-five gees. Over
a thousand drones forming an immense noose of light which was swiftly contracting.
Tactical programs went primary in Meredith’s neural nanonics. In theory, they had the capacity to fight off this assault,
which would leave them with practically zero reserves. And he had to decide now.
It was a hopeless situation, one where instinct fought against duty. But Confederation citizens were being attacked; and to
a Saldana duty was instinct.
“Full defensive salvo,” Meredith ordered. “Fire.”
Combat wasps leapt out of their launch tubes in every squadron ship. Tranquillity’s SD platforms launched simultaneously.
For a short while, space around the habitat’s shell ceased to be an absolute vacuum. Hot streams of energized vapour from
the exhausts of four thousand combats wasps sprayed in towards Tranquillity, creating a faint iridescent nebula beset with
giddy squalls of turquoise and amber ions. Jagged petals of lightning flared out from the tip of every starscraper, ripping
away into the chaotically unstable vortex.
Blackhawks were rising from Tranquillity’s docking ledges, over fifty of them sliding out under heavy acceleration to join
the fight. Meredith’s tactical analysis program began revising the odds. Then he saw several swallow away. In his heart he
didn’t blame them.
“Message coming in, Admiral,” the communications officer reported. “Someone called Luigi Balsmao, he claims he’s the Organization
fleet’s commander. He says: Surrender and join us, or die and join us.”
“What a melodramatic arsehole,” Meredith grunted. “Please advise the Lord of Ruin, it’s as much her decision as it is mine.
After all, it’s her people who will suffer.”
“Oh, fuck!
Sir!
Another combat wasp launch. It’s the Adamist ships this time.”
Under Luigi’s command, all one hundred and eighty Organization starships fired a salvo of twenty-five combat wasps apiece.
Their antimatter drives accelerated them in towards Tranquillity at forty gees.
The star wasn’t important enough to have a name. The Confederation Navy’s almanac office simply listed it as DRL0755-09-BG.
It was an average K-type, with a gloomy emission in the lower end of the orange spectrum. The first scoutship to explore its
planets, back in 2396, took less than a fortnight to complete a survey. There were only three unremarkable inner, solid planets
for it to investigate, none of which were terracompatible. Of the two outer gas giants, the one furthest from the star had
an equatorial diameter of forty-three thousand kilometres, its outer cloud layer a pale green with none of the usual blustery
atmospheric conditions. As worthless as the solid planets. The innermost gas giant did raise the interest of the scoutship’s
crew for a short while. Its equatorial diameter was a hundred and fifty-three thousand kilometres, making it larger than Jupiter,
and coloured by a multitude of ferocious storm bands. Eighteen moons orbited around it, two of which had high-pressure atmospheres
of nitrogen and methane. The complex interaction of their gravity fields prohibited any major ring system from forming, but
all of the larger moons shepherded substantial quantities of asteroidal rubble.
The scoutship crew thought that such abundant resources of easily accessible minerals and ores would make it an ideal location
for Edenist habitats. Their line company even managed to sell the survey’s preliminary results to Jupiter. But once again,
DRL0755-09-BG’s mediocrity acted against it. The gas giant was a good location for habitats, but not exceptional; without
a terracompatible planet the Edenists weren’t interested. DRL0755-09-BG was ignored for the next two hundred and fifteen years,
apart from intermittent visits from Confederation Navy patrol ships to check that it wasn’t being used by an antimatter production
station.
As the
Lady Mac’s
sensor clusters gave him a visual sweep of the penurious star system, Joshua wondered why the navy wasted its time.
He cancelled the image and looked around the bridge. Alkad Mzu was lying prone on one of the spare acceleration couches, her
eyes tight shut as she absorbed the external panorama. Monica and Samuel were hovering in the background, as always. Joshua
really didn’t want them on the bridge, but the agencies weren’t prepared to allow Mzu out of their sight now.
“Okay, Doc, now what?” he asked. He’d followed Mzu’s directions so that
Lady Mac
emerged half a million kilometres above the inner gas giant’s southern pole, near the undulating boundaries of the planet’s
enormous magnetosphere. It gave them an excellent viewpoint across the entire moon system.
Alkad stirred on her couch, not opening her eyes. “Please configure the ship’s antenna to broadcast the strongest signal it
can at the one-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand-kilometre equatorial orbital band. I will give you the code to transmit when
you’re ready.”
“That was the
Beezling’s
parking orbit?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Sarha, get the dish ready for that, please. I think you’d better allow for a twenty-thousand-kilometre error when you
designate the beam. No telling what state they were in when they got here. If they don’t respond, we’ll have to widen the
sweep pattern out to the furthest moon.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“How many people left on this old warship of yours, Doc?” Joshua asked.
Alkad broke away from the image feeding into her neural nanonics. She didn’t want to. This was it, the star represented by
that stupid little alphanumeric she had carried with her like a talisman for thirty years. Always expecting him to be waiting
here for her; there had been a million first lines rehearsed in those decades, a million loving looks. But now she’d arrived,
seen that pale amber star with her own eyes, doubt was gripping her like frostbite. Every other aspect of their desperate
plan had fallen to dust thanks to fate and human fallibility. Would this part of it really be any different? A sublight voyage
of two and a half light-years. What had the young captain called it? Impossible. “Nine,” she said faintly. “There should be
nine of them. Is that a problem?”