Hu’urs Khraam finished outlining their Hobson’s choice. “Conversely, if we turn any significant portion of our orbital intercept capabilities to bear on the missiles that may be launching drones, several of the closer missiles will certainly get through to Java. And, if they are armed with nuclear warheads, we could lose most of our ground forces.”
“And we will have lost you, Hu’urs Khraam, our leader and the voice of the Wholenest. Your orders?”
“We must destroy their nearest missiles and preserve our ground forces or this invasion was for naught.”
“But if the humans are launching new drones to assist their fleet, that combined force might prevail against our counterattacking flotilla.”
“This is true. In which event, we must await relief by the fleet returning from the asteroid belt.”
Tuxae fluttered his rear antenna. “If it comes to that, the humans will gain several days of orbital supremacy. They will swarm over you on the ground.”
The pause suggested Hu’urs Khraam’s careful consideration of what he said next. “Yes, that could occur. But if we allow even ten of their missiles to land in Indonesia, our destruction is assured, and our campaign is over. Lacking additional landing forces, we would then have only two choices: to annihilate the entire world from orbit, or to withdraw. Each is a politically unserviceable extreme. So, in order to maintain the delicate leverage necessary for a successful outcome to this conflict, we must preserve our ground forces.”
Although he was not in the presence of the First Delegate, Tuxae bobbed his respect. “I harmonize, Hu’urs Khraam.”
“Target the missiles with clear trajectories for Java.”
Winfield saw the fast, multiple flickers over his shoulder and went prone, covering his eyes and ears. Ayala, left arm still bleeding from a through-and-through hit inflicted by some kind of Hkh’Rkh scattergun, was down beside him in a moment. Seconds went by. Jakarta was only marginally more quiet than it had been before.
About fifteen seconds later, a dull rumble started, rising up through and ultimately washing over the incessant small arms fire and intermittent rockets that were still pelting in from the periphery of the city. Winfield stood, looked back out over the Thousand Islands. It appeared as though a tiny, dim afterimage of the sun blazed at the eleven o’clock position. However, the sun’s own cloud-smudged brightness was still visible at the two o’clock position. One sky, two suns—although the smaller one at eleven o’clock was fading fast.
“Whaddya figure?” asked Barkowski, who had sheltered in a doorway.
Winfield shrugged. “Two megaton, maybe. Really high up. Doubt we’ll get much wind out of it.”
“Why’d we launch it?”
“Maybe to hit them with some EMP, although that one didn’t get anywhere near close enough.” He looked at Ayala. “Of course, they might have been trying to drop it on Java.”
“Lieutenant, last time I checked, we’re still standing on Java.”
“And last time I checked, Commander, we’re still considered expendable. Let’s keep going, but stay near cover.”
Barkowski lingered to look at the almost vanished brightness of the nuke. “So. Not the last?” His tone made it a statement, not a question.
“Nope,” answered Winfield, “and if I were a betting man, not the closest, either.”
It was then that a much brighter flash opened high overhead.
Chapter Forty-Three
Tuxae kept panic out of his voice. “First Delegate, please repeat.” Nothing except the falling squeal of static produced by an atmospheric nuclear detonation. “Esteemed Hu’urs Khraam do you receive our signals? Are you still there?” There was no evidence of a ground strike, or a near-surface airburst, but with so much sensor noise—
“I—we—are still here, Sensor Coordinator Skhaas. But that missile exploded only ten kilometers away, albeit quite high. Can you not intercept them farther out?”
“My apologies, Hu’urs Khraam, but that missile exploded the instant before we would have intercepted it. Evidently, the humans are using the rockets being launched from Asia to generate EMP attacks upon your electronics.”
In the background, Tuxae Skhaas heard a Hkh’Rkh—probably First Voice—interject: “They have succeeded. All my communications gear is useless, as are our sensors and targeting. My troops must now rely on hand signals, iron sights, and brave blood.” He sounded oddly, if grimly, satisfied.
“And the PDF arrays?”
A new voice: Darzhee Kut, if he was not mistaken. “Thankfully, Hu’urs Khraam gambled to take them offline. There is some further degradation, but not much. Tell us, are the missiles from North America and Europe heading for us, as well?”
“No. They are almost all inserting to orbit and deploying drones.”
“How long before the drones reach you?”
Fleetmaster R’sudkaat leaned in toward H’toor Qooiiz’s console. “They are not heading toward us. They are sternchasing the ships we sent to intercept the human fleet.”
Hu’urs Khraam’s response was immediate. “Fleetmaster R’sudkaat, deploy all the remaining drones in your orbital flotilla to pursue the human drones. They must overtake and eliminate them. Otherwise, our counterattacking ships will be struck from both the front and the rear.”
“I will do so immediately. Tuxae Skhaas, I need trajectory data on the human drones.”
But Tuxae, staring into the holotank and then at his screens, barely heard the senior Arat Kur.
“Tuxae Skhaas, will you comply?”
“Fleetmaster, Hu’urs Khraam. We have a new problem. There is a new human launch site—no, two new launch sites.”
“So? There are hundreds of human launch sites already. How bad can two more be?”
“Very bad.” Tuxae turned to look up at the Fleetmaster. “These two launch sites are in the middle of the water. One is only ten kilometers south of Bawean Island, near the middle of Java’s northern coast.”
Hu’urs Khraam voice was preternaturally calm, almost as if he already knew the answer to his question. “And the other?”
“Forty kilometers north of Jakarta. If you look out an upper story window, you should be able to see the launch plume now…”
“Admiral Silverstein, Lord Admiral Halifax on tightbeam secure line two.”
Ira nodded, tapped his collarcom. “Silverstein here.”
“Ira, Tom Halifax. I just received a lascom from the sensor chaps in Plesetsk Cosmodrome. The big thinkers in joint force intel have high confidence that the enemy’s planetside situation is deteriorating.”
Silverstein nodded. “Which means they’ll either shore it up by keeping their interdiction assets in orbit, or they’ll engage our fleet with everything they’ve got and sacrifice their beachhead. Any indication which way they’re going to go?”