“I’ve already done so, Commander. They absolutely deny ordering any ship to shadow us.”
“Then please get me Director Swann personally.”
“Here’s your visual, Commander.”
From a widening point dead ahead, the imaginary skin round the circumference of the Bridge screen was ruptured and a locally-magnified image slapped against it, like a plaster over a wound. The visual was so good that for a moment the details were more prominent than the whole: silvered overlapping hull plates, rings of manoeuvre drive blisters like plague scars, oxidation streaks, and, clearest of all, Horus Fleet insignia and identification markings. The ship was large and heavily built and looked close enough for collision.
“When we stopped and turned,” Joser said, “it switched down from photon to ion drive. It’s approaching us very slowly, at about five percent. And it’s on battle stations.”
“Yes,” Foord said. He noted the hooded viewports like eyeslits in a perhaps-empty suit of armour, and the weapon ports housing extended nozzles which tracked back and forth.
“Commander,” Thahl said, “I have Director Swann.”
“Thank you. Put him through, please.”
Silence.
“Has something gone wrong, Thahl?”
“I’m sorry, Commander. Director Swann just cut the channel.”
“Position of intruder is 12-18-14 and closing slowly,” Joser said.
“Cut the channel? I don’t understand.”
“I told him you needed to speak urgently. He said ‘Later’, and cut the channel.”
Foord smiled faintly.
“Commander,” Cyr spoke for the first time, “we’re still at battle stations.”
“And?”
“And I have no orders. I’d like to ask if you intend to…”
“If I intend to attack that ship?”
“Our orders were quite explicit, Commander.”
“Yes, I got a copy of them. I know what may have to be done.”
“Commander,” Joser began, “for the record I must…”
“No, for the record you mustn’t. Please confine yourself to readouts of the intruder’s position. Can I have the latest one?”
“12-17-14 and closing slowly.”
“Thank you. Thahl?”
“Still no reply, Commander. From the intruder, or Director Swann.”
“Get me the Director’s chief of staff, please. Tell him I have a message.”
“Intruder is now 11-17-14 and…Commander, he’s decelerating!”
Foord glanced up at the screen. Manoeuvre jets were blazing in sequence from the front of the ship like a visible scale played up and down organ pipes. Scanners and weapons peered ahead from the dark semicircular recesses of their housings. The Bridge screen, before it was asked, patched in a view from another angle, showing the name and Fleet ident, SABLE 097 CX 141, bulging over the corrugations of its flanks. The ship came to rest.
“Kaang, please take us forward slowly on ion drive, no more than five percent. Thahl?”
“I have Director Swann’s chief of staff, Commander.”
“Oh, and Cyr: no further orders for now. Thank you, Thahl. Put him through on sound only; visual won’t be necessary.”
“Commander Foord? I’m not getting your…”
“Forgive me. You’re Director Swann’s chief of staff?”
“I am. Commander, I’m not getting your visual.”
“But you can hear me clearly?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Then please give the Director this message. Tell him that it appears that the Sable, a Class 097 cruiser of Horus Fleet, number CX 141, has disobeyed orders and shadowed us into the battle area. Emphasize the word Appears. Tell him I have orders to engage and destroy an unidentified ship whose specification—are you recording all this?”
“Every word. Please go on, Commander.”
“An unidentified ship whose specification is largely unknown, but whose documented abilities include evading and confusing scanners.” He glanced briefly at Joser as he said this. “Horus Fleet has been recalled to defensive positions around Sakhra, and my orders entitle me to rely on Horus Fleet to ensure that I engage that ship alone.”
“Commander, we’ve already received an enquiry from one of your officers on this matter. I assure you we’re treating it with the utmost urgency. If any ship has broken formation it will be ordered back and if necessary brought back by force.”
“I think,” Foord said, “that you may have misunderstood. Let me complete the message, and then I’ll leave it to you to pass it to the Director. This unidentified ship—I’ll use the name Faith, most people do now—can evade and confuse scanners. My orders entitle me to rely on Horus Fleet to ensure that I engage Her alone. The ship shadowing us has repeatedly failed to identify itself. Please tell the Director that I must assume this ship is Faith, and that somehow She’s contrived to appear on our scanners as a Horus Fleet ship. I’m therefore going to engage and destroy Her.”
“Commander,” Joser said quietly, “I must tell you on the record that I have detailed readouts on that ship, and it’s definitely a Class 097. Drive emissions, dimensions, mass, they can’t be faked.”
Foord appeared not to have heard, though in the sudden silence on the Bridge that was quite impossible.
“Thahl, you’ve continued to request identification?”
“Yes, Commander. No reply.”
“Continue sending, right up to the moment we open fire.”
“Commander,” Joser persisted. “It would be…”
“Don’t!” Cyr snapped, before Foord could answer, “Don’t say it would be murder!”
“Thank you, Cyr, that’s enough,” Foord said.
But for Cyr, it wasn’t. “Unsolicited comments,” she hissed at Joser, “from unproven Bridge officers, are not helpful.”
“Thank you, Cyr, that’s enough.”
“Commander,” Thahl said, “I have Director Swann.”
4
“Commander Foord.”
“Director Swann.”
“This conversation is long overdue.”
“It’s overdue; don’t expect it to be long.”
“I’ve been handed a message from you.” On the screen, Swann looked like a badly-drawn cartoon of Foord. He too came from a heavy gravity planet, and had the same large frame and the same dark hair and beard; but his frame was less toned, and his hair and beard less well groomed, than Foord’s. “Let me make sure I understand you. You’re about to destroy a Class 097 cruiser of Horus Fleet. Is that correct?”
“Position of intruder,” Joser said, “is 11-17-14 and holding.”
Foord glanced at the magnified section of the circular Bridge screen. The large silver ship remained at rest, the only movement coming from the nozzles in its weapons ports and scanner housings which tracked side to side, side to side, much as an underwater current might move the minor appendages of something long since drowned.
“I’m about to engage a ship which I have to believe is Faith,” Foord said.
“Have to believe?”
“I’m at war with everything in the system not in the immediate vicinity of Sakhra, where my orders tell me I can assume it belongs to you. And I’m at war with anything which follows me into the Gulf and fails to identify itself.”
“You attack that ship, Commander, and you’re at war with Horus Fleet.”
“We both know that isn’t true.” But if it was, we’d probably win.
“Commander, listen to me.”
“Holding on ion drive at five percent, Commander. Shall I continue?”
“Thank you, Kaang, yes.”
“Commander, listen to me. The Sable shadowed you without my knowledge and in defiance of my orders. I now know what made its Captain commit this error. It’ll be the last error of his career, but it is just an error. The Sable has a crew of ninety. It’s only an 097. It wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”