He turned away from the screen which went blank for a moment. First a high-pitched hum and then a scramble code followed.
“Sire.”
The Emperor turned slowly to face the Prince.
“You have heard of Vukar?”
Thrakhath did not reply.
What is he thinking? the Emperor wondered. After all it was I who insisted that the assault continue and the fleet be split. His own position is threatened now. Could he in turn then be plotting against me?
“We must do three things,” the Emperor said finally.
“And they are, sire?”
“One, no strike must ever reach Kilrah. Not a single missile, nothing. You are to block this human scum no matter what.”
“Sire. A close in direct attack will finish them now.”
“You lost a third of your fighters yesterday. If you close assault, can you assure me that no ship will penetrate?”
Thrakhath hesitated.
“No, you cannot, that is obvious. Assume a defensive position ahead of them and block their attack. You have two other carriers maneuvering in through different jump points to seal off escape. We will kill this human fleet in revenge, but it must not succeed in reaching this planet. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sire. And the other two items?”
“We shall increase the size of this enemy fleet in our reports to match what we have suffered both in lost construction and in the home fleet.”
Thrakhath smiled and then shook his head.
“But those of the family will know the real truth.”
“That does not matter. Finally, we must find one at fault for Vukar, let him take the blame, and divert attention.”
“The Baron.”
The Emperor nodded.
“Fine.”
“Grandson, you must succeed. If not,” he hesitated, “far too many will then start to look to you as the cause of their problems.”
He switched the screen off without waiting for a reply.
“Captain, their carrier is maneuvering in from the flank.”
“Their course bearing?”
“Positioning above their first moon, between us and Kilrah.”
Jason smiled.
He looked over at the helm officer.
“Our speed?”
“Crossing through eight thousand clicks a second and climbing, sir.”
“Prepare to launch remaining landing craft and pilotless Ferret. Communications, signal our escorts to stand close. Alert tractor beam crew to get ready as well.”
Jason looked over at the strategic display map. They were surrounded by a circle of Kilrathi ships. Six in pursuit all the way back from the gas giant, two closing in to either flank. And the carrier positioned ahead and several million clicks out from Kilrah.
He settled back into his bridge chair and watched the display. With the ram scoop energy fields completely closed down, the Tarawa continued to accelerate. He was going to burn damned near every ounce of fuel reserve aboard ship in the next twenty minutes; if the furballs didn’t fall for the maneuver they’d get nailed at the jump point when they were forced to slow back down to insure a correct alignment for jump entry. But it was the only plan he could come up with and Grierson had chuckled with delight when first told.
“What are they doing?” Prince Thrakhath whispered, not really addressing his question to anyone in particular.
He watched the data screen. The three ships were accelerating with ram scoops closed down… and they were aiming straight in on Kilrah.
“Project terminal velocity if they should ram the planet,” Thrakhath said and he looked over at his combat control officer.
The data appeared on Thrakhath’s screen.
Ten thousand and eighty kilometers per second. He sat back and allowed the information to sink in. The mass of the ship, striking at that velocity into the atmosphere would cleave straight down to the planet’s surface, impacting with a force equal to several dozen matter/antimatter warheads. Three such strikes would kill tens of millions.
Was that his plan?
“Contact planetary defense, get shielding up to maximum and the hell with security. Prepare to position this ship on a collision intercept with their carrier. Scramble all fighters for point defense with same orders.”
He left his chair, the battle station alarm screeching through the ship.
“Prepare to launch landing craft and Ferret,” Jason announced and he looked down at the flight deck.
“Launch!”
The landing craft went out the airlock door, aimed on a ballistic trajectory straight in on Kilrah, followed by the lone Ferret, both ships on automatic pilot, both ships armed with old-style atomics which would be detected by the Kilrathi defense.
Kilrah, which only minutes before was nothing but a blue-green dot, was now a sphere hanging in the darkness.
“Coming up on maneuver change,” Helm announced.
Jason settled back into his chair and strapped himself in.
“Hang on Tarawa, just hang on.”
“Rotating ship for maneuver firing now!”
Jason felt the nudge of the thruster rockets which turned Tarawa to a line perpendicular to its flight path. Without the scoops, any form of aerodynamic maneuvering was impossible. It would all have to be done by the age-old method of space flight which was to burn fuel in order to turn.
“All engines firing!”
“They’ve launched atomic warheads!” Prince Thrakhath leaped out of his chair and came up to stand behind his combat control officer. The telltale yellow blip was superimposed over the purple which marked two ships that were launching from Tarawa.
“Block them, shoot them, we must bring them down.”
“Tarawa is shifting course!”
“Block the warheads!”
Creaks and groans echoed through the ship as the main engines, sucking up the hydrogen fuel at a prodigious rate, feeding it into the fusion reactor cores, started to change the trajectory that would have taken them straight into Kilrah.
The planet, displayed on the main monitor came racing up. Dozens of blips, marking the forward defenses of the Kilrathi, swarmed across the screen, positioning themselves to intercept what they thought would be the suicidal gesture of a planet ramming. But now, with every passing second, Tarawa was maneuvering dozens of clicks away from the anticipated path. Some of the fighters started to turn, while others continued to converge on the two drones, whose heavy mines clicking towards detonation were sending the Kilrathi into a frenzy.
“Planet loop in ten seconds.”
“Navigation, you damn well better be right,” Jason said, looking over at the nav officer who gulped nervously. “Are tractor beams ready?”
“Tractor beam standing by for computer firing.”
“Velocity now at nine thousand, eight hundred and twenty eight kilometers per second.”
Navigation looked over at her console and punched in the latest data which was instantly fed into the main nav computer. Tens of thousandths of a second later, adjustments were sent into the ship’s helm control which minutely altered the engine firing.
“Landing craft rammed by a Sartha,” combat announced.
Jason ignored the information, watching as several Sartha, moving now without their own ram scoop fields, attempted to close with full afterburners, coming in on ballistic trajectories.
“Projected impact on Kagimasha!”
Jason turned to look at the tactical screen.
It was over even before he could pick out the intersecting lines, a Sartha swinging straight into the path of the corvette, the two intersecting at nearly ten thousand kilometers per second. A white burst of light, far brighter than the sun, appeared on the starboard beam monitoring screen and then disappeared from view as Tarawa raced past.