The carnage continued through the Night watch with many more of the League's greatest ships destroyed or sufficiently damaged to put them out of action permanently. Then, toward morning, a second major change in the battle became apparent-as if the enemy ships had given up and were now maneuvering primarily for the purpose of safety. At the beginning of the Morning watch, every Leaguer ship suddenly-and simultaneously-broke off action and headed back at high speed across the galaxy toward Tarrott, each on a different trajectory.
Before the victorious Imperials could regroup for a chase, Onrad wisely broadcast orders terminating all efforts to chase the fleeing Leaguers. OUR MISSION HAS BEEN
ACCOMPLISHED BEYOND OUR WILDEST DREAMS, IMPERIALS, he Ka'PPAed. PAST
THIS POINT, COURAGE BECOMES FOLLY. DO NOT PURSUE THESE LEAGUERS ANY
FARTHER!...
The battle for Haelic was over.
Two mornings later, Hador had grown to a huge-still lopsided-ball off to starboard and Haelic's disk now filled Defiant's forward Hyperscreens as Brim set up the ship for landing-a difficult task with as much drifting wreckage as presently fouled the orbits above the planet. It was no time to be careless with approach procedures.
For the last nine watches or so, the message channels had carried little else but congratulatory messages for Wellington and Ursis from all over the empire-including long, personal notes from Greyffin IV himself. It was clear that the two Blue Cape officers had become heroes of the day-perhaps the century-for their discoveries leading to activation of the Gradygroat space cannon.
Shortly after the cruiser slowed through approach velocity, a grinning Calhoun leaned over Brim's recliner. "We're aboot to pick up an escort soon, laddie," he said with a smile. "I thought I'd let you know so it wouldn't be so much of a surprise."
Brim arced an eyebrow.
Calhoun chuckled. "Wellington and Ursis have been elevated to the status of gods ahead on Haelic," be said. "The two of them did sort of save the Empire, when you get right down to it. At any rate, the Admiralty's thrown open a big part of the base at Atalanta to the public, and it sounds to me as if most of the city is already there waiting for Defiant to land-or more correctly, waiting for our two colleagues. So they've laid on an honor guard to escort us down. I think you'll see some interesting ships when they arrive." He clapped Brim on the shoulder and was off, back through the bridge toward the companionway.
Brim shrugged. What did all that mean? He queried Haelic's Planetary Center and got the weather report for Atalanta-marginaclass="underline" a light breeze off the bay, smoke and haze to ten thousand feet, and limited visibility. Then, following checkin for a landing at the base, he had just started his descent to a synchronous marker buoy when Waldo suddenly reached across the consoles and touched his forearm.
"Wilf," she said, pointing through the Hyperscreens, "I dunk I've spotted our honor guard-Universe!"
Brim followed her finger, then made a rapid intake of air. Ahead and slightly to nadir-silhouetted in stark relief against the bright surface of the planet-were two pairs of stately capital ships, in perfect finger-four formation and on the same general bearing as Defiant. The mammoth vessels looked as if they were practicing for an old-fashioned Fleet review around Avalon. Brim's present rate of descent would soon carry him forward of the lead ship in the center formation.
"Fleet CL.921, here, Haelic Center," he said, "descending through approach level two two three zero at two nine zero zero velocity; heading zero one zero spinward. Present vector will intersect with four large warships that appear to be-" he squinted into the distance"-the four Queens," he reported a little breathlessly. "Please advise."
"Planetary Control here," a voice drawled in a strong Vogordion accent. "Maintain present flight parameters and contact Queen Elidean, on two one nine five five."
Frowning, Brim shrugged to Waldo-who shrugged back and scratched her head.
"Maintaining present flight parameters. Will contact Queen Elidean, two one nine five five."
He paused and brought the Queen's identifier to his display while the Chairman changed frequencies. "CL.921 to BB.119: descending through approach level two two one five at two nine zero zero velocity; heading zero one zero spinward. Have been advised to maintain flight parametars that will intersect close ahead of your bow."
"CL.921," a soft female voice aboard Queen Elidean answered presently, "those orders are correct." As she spoke, the second pair of battleships moved abreast of the first two, forming a chevron with its center missing. "Admiral Plutron requests you bring Defiant into point position. We note that you have significant damage to your starboard underpan. Does that pose any particular problems?"
"BB.119," Brim responded, "all control systems appear to be intact-we have checked as closely as possible. No problems anticipated. Will appreciate notification if you see anything when we pass."
"CL.921: Will notify," the voice of the Queen promised. "When you are in position, continue normal landing procedures. The tower will vector you over the city, into a shallow turn to port around City Mount Hill, and then a long, straight-in final approach. We will follow."
"CL.921," Brim responded, "we thank you, Queen." Then he swung around in his seat to Calhoun, who had just seated himself at his console. "Voot's been busy again," he said, shaking his head.
"Bastard never steeps." Calhoun chuckled, his face green with reflected light while he adjusted a display.
"You'd better get the people in their seats early," Brim warned. "We really don't know what she'll be like without E turret under the starboard belly pan."
"Good idea, laddie," the elder Carescrian agreed, taking his silver whistle from his breast pocket.
Scant cycles afterward-with alarms ringing in his ears-Brim sent Defiant charging between the two pairs of immense battleships: collections of massive armored casemates, fearful disruptors, stacked bridges, and lofty KA'PPA towers. "Half speed, all generators, Nik," he ordered, "it looks a little close from here."
"Half speed," Ursis acknowledged.
It was a ticklish time for Brim: too little speed and he'd make an utter fool of himself-the Fleet placed a high value on risk-taking. Too fast, however, and he ran the chance of collision-plus a ruinous court-martial. He grinned. If he could come alongside a transfer ship in a Carescrian ore barge at 0.87 LightSpeed-often during severe gravity disturbances in areas full of space holes-then he presently had little to worry about.
All four battleships had clearly been involved in serious action. Their disruptors were mottled from the terrific heat of repeated firing, and extensive areas of radiation burn discolored their dented and patched hulls. Ganriel was minus her entire C turret while Queen Elidean's bridge had lost all its Hyperscreens. Nevertheless, the fierce-looking ships were clearly operationaclass="underline" every bit as dangerous as they looked. Brim felt his chest swell as he pulled into position and continued his original descent. He was part of their fleet, too-and proud of it.
As they drew near Atalanta, the atmosphere became charged with ragged layers of thick smoke and haze at many different levels-like some fantastic system of floating islands, Brim thought. By the time they reached approach altitude, Hador was lost in a thick overcast above, and the remaining Universe had turned to a uniform gray.