“Any word from Admiral Kaeser?”
“Nothing yet, sir. Since he doesn’t know exactly where we are, he can’t reach us by laser, and he probably doesn’t want to risk a courier drone.”
Mello shrugged. He hadn’t really expected anything, not yet. “Anything on the holo?”
Commander Pattin shook her head. “We’ve seen a few freighters, but at some distance, too far away for them to paint us with commercial sensors. We’ve had the usual sensor ghosts, but nothing worth investigating.”
Dominion Task Force One plowed on. Six thousand miles away, the H.M.S. Annapurna found a clear line of sight to one of the Fleet’s communications satellites and beamed its message of warning.
• • • • •
The Fleet ship closest to Bogey Two was a destroyer, the H.M.S. Glasgow, captained by Captain Robert Manforte, known by his crew with affection as Madman Manforte for his daring and boldness during Fleet maneuvers.
“Picking up Bogey Two, Captain,” the Sensors Officer said. “At least fifty ships, maybe more.”
Manforte frowned. Only fifty? The report from Atlas had identified as many as seventy. Had they split up, divided their force?
“Okay, boys and girls,” Manforte said breezily. “Let’s get closer and eyeball these bastards. Pilot, set course for convergence, then kill the engines and we’ll coast right by them.” He smiled wolfishly. “Close enough to tickle them as we go by.”
Two hours later the Glasgow was less than a thousand miles away, coming in from a wide angle so that it would cross under the Dominion fleet. Its passive sensors recorded everything.
On board the Dominion ship Fortitude, Admiral Kaeser watched the holo display with growing incredulity. He had a globe of twenty ships coasting in parallel with the rest of Attack Force Two, acting as a perimeter guard. They had picked up the Vicky destroyer twenty minutes ago and had been plotting its course since then. For a while Admiral Kaeser had hoped that by simply ignoring the destroyer, they could bluff their way though. The Dominion had notified the Victorian Port Authority that it was sending another fleet to reinforce its ships in Tilleke space, and Kaeser had hoped to hide in plain sight.
He sighed. The Vickies were either just curious or they were on to something. No matter.
“No radio emissions from the Vicky destroyer?”
“Nothing yet, Admiral. Still coming in silent.”
Kaeser nodded in satisfaction. The destroyer had not radioed a warning. No doubt the captain intended to fly right past the Dominion Attack Force and then report back to Victoria, covering himself in glory in the process. All balls and no brain, he thought — a common failing of Victorian Fleet captains.
“Very well, then. Execute Rabbit Snare on my command. Make sure the frigates and destroyers watch for the Omega drone; it must not escape. Execute!”
On command, twenty Dominion cruisers fired every laser battery they had at the hapless Glasgow. Dozens upon dozens of one inch, three inch and five inch laser beams smashed the hull of the Victorian destroyer, spearing deep into the inner compartments, blowing apart everything in their path. The Glasgow promptly disintegrated. Incredibly, two Omega drones burst from the growing cloud of debris, only to be shot down by the Dominion frigates and destroyers that had been waiting for them.
Admiral Kaeser looked at the clock. Twenty three more hours to go.
“Carry on,” he ordered.
Chapter 45
In Victorian Space
Atlas Space Station
The man stood in the doorway of the Fleet Intelligence Center, his way barred by the Queen’s bodyguards.
“And you are?” asked Admiral Douthat impatiently.
“I’m Opinsky, in charge of plant operations for Atlas,” he said, seemingly not fazed by the Admiral, the guards or the fact that a woman who looked suspiciously like Princess Anne was standing there with a bemused look on her face. He gestured toward Hiram Brill. “Hiram asked me to get up here right away.” He shrugged. “So I came.”
“It’s okay,” Hiram said hastily. “I asked him to come. We need him if we’re going to move Atlas. Max,” he said to Opinsky, “Peter Murphy is bringing in all the tugs he can get hold of, maybe two hundred. We’re going to move the Atlas station out of orbit and tow it to Refuge.” At that Admiral Douthat and Captain Grey both looked at him in astonishment. Queen Anne tilted her head, considering, and stole a glance to Sir Henry. Sir Henry frowned.
“Big job,” Opinsky said stolidly.
“Murphy says if we try to tow the space station, we’ll tear it apart.”
Opinsky glowered. “Murphy is a thick-headed Irishman whose idea of a big engineering job is opening a bottle of beer, and at that only if he can find the top of the bottle. He knows less than nothin’ about this station. This old girl’s got a series of strong points on each outer ring. If there is a major disaster, like a fire, or if one of them damn fool Navy drivers smacks a ring with a battleship, we can unhook the entire section and tow it out, then replace it with a pre-fab section. There’s like eighty or more strong points around the main ring, couple of dozen or more on the inner ring.”
“So we can tow Atlas?” Hiram asked.
“Course you can,” Opinsky said. “Slow, of course. I mean, she’s a big bitch and it won’t be easy, but you tie into the strong points and she’ll hold up just fine, ‘long as Murphy and his crew don’t fuck it up.”
Queen Anne coughed to cover a laugh. Her eyes were dancing. “Thank you, Mr. Opinsky.” Another short fit of coughing. “Um, how is it you know Lieutenant Brill?”
A hint of a smile creased Opinsky’s lips. “Hiram? He’s just a curious son-of-a-bitch, is all. Offered to buy me a drink and asked me all sorts of questions about how Atlas was built, what industries we have on board, ship building, the whole lot. But Sweet Gods, he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn.” He frowned suddenly, peering closer at the Queen. “You look very familiar…”
Queen Anne nodded emphatically. “People often say that, I don’t know why. Admiral, could you please use Mr. Opinsky to help coordinate the towing effort with Captain Murphy?” She looked around. “I think we are leaving for Refuge just as soon as we can.”
After they left, the Queen turned on Brill. “Lieutenant, do I understand that once you saw the incoming Dominion ships, you just decided on your own to take Atlas off to safe haven in Refuge, without consulting with the Admiral or any of your superiors?”
Hiram thought of trying to explain, but finally just nodded.
“Are you always this impulsive? Is that why you did all this?” And though her tone was light, her expression was serious.
Her question stung him. Impulsive? He was the least impulsive person he knew. It was his primary flaw. He dithered, poked, considered and was usually so indecisive that it drove him crazy. He yearned to be impulsive.
“Sometimes,” he said flatly, “I simply see things with great clarity.”
The Queen tilted her head again, then nodded slowly. “Okay, Lieutenant. I lost all of my personal staff on Cornwall when the Palace was destroyed. I can always use people who see things with ‘great clarity.’ You are now seconded as my Intelligence Adjutant. You will report directly to me.” She turned. “Sir Henry, we need a home. Atlas has room and the necessary communications nexus. And I suspect that Admiral Douthat will be delighted that we are not staying on one of her war ships.”