Manticore should have been back by now. Where the hell was Kommodor Asima Marphissa anyway? They had become friends, giving a strong personal aspect to Bradamont’s worries. But she would be relieved once Asima made it back to Midway not simply because it would mean she had survived her mission, but also because Bradamont could then gracefully return the role of flotilla commander back to Midway’s own Kommodor.
Five minutes ago, Midway’s sensors had spotted the battle cruiser Pele altering vector and accelerating toward the jump point for Lono. What was Kapitan Kontos doing and why was he doing it? Since Pele was nearly three light hours away, the action had been taken that long ago, and any message sent by Bradamont demanding explanation would require a six-hour round-trip.
Her impatient thoughts were interrupted by a call from the bridge. “Two light cruisers arrived at the jump point from Lono three and a half hours ago,” Kapitan Freya Mercia reported. “They are accelerating toward the inner star system at the best rate they can manage.”
Bradamont frowned at the image of the battleship Midway’s commanding officer. “That’s a very small attack force.”
“Ridiculously small,” Mercia agreed. “Our sensors have spotted combat damage on both warships.”
A tone sounded, drawing Bradamont’s attention to an incoming message. “Kapitan Kontos is hopefully informing us of his intentions. Are you copied on this message?”
“Yes,” Mercia replied.
The image of Kapitan Kontos appeared before Bradamont. He was seated on the bridge of Pele, and still looked impossibly young for his rank and for being assigned to command Midway’s only battle cruiser. But she had seen him in action and knew that Kontos was a brilliant tactician with an instinctive grasp of space combat.
“Honored Captain Bradamont,” Kontos said, his tone and bearing formal and respectful. “I have sighted two light cruisers arriving from Lono and am proceeding to intercept their track. A message sent by them to my ships asks for asylum and indicates they were pursued by Syndicate warships when they entered jump at Lono. Main propulsion on both ships has suffered damage, limiting their ability to accelerate. Unless otherwise ordered, I will join up with the two light cruisers and escort them to a safe orbit. For the people, Kontos, out.”
“He attached the message sent to his ships,” Kapitan Mercia noted. “Shall I play it?”
“Yes, please, Kapitan.” Bradamont had early on sensed Mercia’s unease with her, but the former Syndicate officer had done her best to accept Bradamont, so she did her own best to deal respectfully in turn.
The image this time was of a dazed-looking executive on the bridge of a standard Syndicate light cruiser. The small bridge of the light cruiser was marked by signs of combat, a few bodies still sprawled within sight. “We have killed all of the loyalists and Internal Security Service agents aboard and are seeking to join forces with those of Midway. But we took damage fighting our way free of our flotilla. There were two heavy cruisers in close pursuit when we jumped from Lono. Both of our ships have suffered damage to main propulsion. We urgently require escort. Please save us! For the people, Kavistan, out.”
It seemed like a pretty much straightforward situation. Bradamont took a quick glance at the display in her stateroom, but she was already familiar with the arrangement of Midway’s warships. The battleship Midway that she was riding, along with heavy cruiser Basilisk, light cruisers Falcon and Osprey, and three Hunter-Killers were orbiting together to cover both Midway’s hypernet gate, the most likely place for another Syndic attack to arrive, and the jump point from the star Pele, from which any enigma attack would come. That put them three and a half light hours from the jump point from Lono, far too distant to reach the new arrivals quickly.
Another heavy cruiser, Kraken, the remaining light cruisers Hawk, Kite, and Eagle, and six Hunter-Killers were orbiting far around the edge of the star system, covering the jump points from the stars Kahiki, Kane, Laka, and Iwa. They were more than five light hours away from the new arrivals.
The remaining three Hunter-Killers that Midway’s small navy boasted were still gone, returning representatives to the star systems of Ulindi, Taroa, and Kane.
That left the battle cruiser Pele and a single heavy cruiser, Gryphon, who had been orbiting to cover the jump points from Lono and Kahiki. Pele and Gryphon had been only about one light hour from where the new ships had arrived.
She shouldn’t have to do anything. By the time any of Midway’s other warships could get to the vicinity of those two light cruisers, Pele and Gryphon would already have long since engaged and driven off a pursuit force consisting of only heavy cruisers. Even a far-less-capable officer than Kontos could handle that.
The virtual window showing Kapitan Mercia was still open. Bradamont noticed that Mercia was frowning. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know.” Mercia’s frown grew deeper. “Something doesn’t feel right, but I’m not sure what.” She studied something off to one side of her. “From our own look angle we can’t see much of the main propulsion on those light cruisers, so we can’t confirm their reports of damage.”
Bradamont checked her display again and did a quick appraisal. “Pele and Gryphon can see less than we do. The light cruisers are almost bow on to them. Why would the light cruisers lie about the damage they had sustained? Two of them can’t threaten a battle cruiser.”
Another alert tone, this one urgent. “The Syndicate heavy cruisers pursuing those light cruisers arrived,” Mercia noted. “Two of them, just as we were told to expect.”
Bradamont gazed at the display again; the two heavy cruisers had come in from the same jump from Lono, and had quickly steadied out on intercepts aimed at the light cruisers that had shown up earlier. The damaged light cruisers were limping toward Pele and Gryphon as fast as they could accelerate, and Kontos was bringing his two warships toward those light cruisers at a considerably higher rate. “About three hours until they meet up,” Bradamont murmured. “Damn. Even if we sent a message it wouldn’t get there until they were almost . . .” She gave a sharp look to Mercia. “Why do I want to send a message? This doesn’t look like anything that Kontos can’t handle.”
“He’s very good,” Mercia said. “He does lack experience, but that shouldn’t matter here. The light cruisers have killed all of the snakes aboard and—” She stopped speaking, looking unhappy. “That’s part of it. Why did that executive call the snakes ISS agents? He used the formal title.”
“What was his Syndicate rank?” Bradamont asked.
“Executive Second Class, what you would expect to find in command of a light cruiser.” Mercia paused. “The commanding officer survived the mutiny. That’s unusual, but I understand some of the commanding officers survived when President Iceni led the mutinies on warships here, so it can happen.”
“How many days in jump space from Lono to here?” Bradamont asked.
“Lono to Midway? Seven days.” Mercia sat straighter, suspicion lighting her eyes. “Seven days. At least seven days after the mutiny, and there are still bodies lying around the bridge?”
“It looked staged, didn’t it?”
“I’m not too familiar with such things,” Mercia said, “but, yes, it looked like . . . exactly what I would expect to see if I was watching a vid. What are they up to?”
“I don’t know.” Bradamont hit her comm control. “Kapitan Kontos, myself and Kapitan Mercia are concerned that there is something wrong about those two light cruisers. Verify the damage they claim to have suffered and do not let them approach you too closely. We need to confirm that they are who they say they are.” She paused to consider adding more specific instructions, but that was foolish when she was observing events from three light hours away. Kontos would have to react to events as they developed. “Proceed with caution. Bradamont, out.”
“You didn’t say ‘for the people,’” Mercia chided her, smiling crook
edly to show it was meant humorously.
“I almost said ‘to the honor of our ancestors’ out of force of habit,” Bradamont admitted. “But I know you don’t believe in the same things that we do.”
“Do you mean me personally?” Mercia asked. “Or everyone out here?”
“Everyone, I guess.”
“Some of us do share that belief. Others believe in other things. And yet others accepted the belief in nothing that the Syndicate worked so hard to convince us all of.” Mercia shrugged. “Not . . . what do you call it? Atheism. But denying even a belief in that. Only the Syndicate was supposed to serve as a guide and a purpose, because there was supposed to be no other possible guide and purpose.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying I should say,” Bradamont said. “Does it look bad that I’m not saying ‘for the people’?”
Mercia smiled very briefly. “I am saying that for all our lives we were told what we had to say. Now we can choose what to say. I don’t think anyone will deny you the right to say what you wish. But you are probably wise not to flaunt your differences from us. Thank you, by the way.”
“For?”
“Taking my concerns seriously. I worry about Kontos. When someone is as naturally good as he is, it is far too easy for them not to realize how much they have to learn.”
“Agreed.” Bradamont shook her head as she looked at her display. “And all you and I can do is watch and see what he does.”
For the next three hours, she had to watch as events unfolded too far away for her to have any control over them. The heavy cruisers chased after the light cruisers, which were racing to meet Pele and Gryphon, which were in turn charging to intercept the light cruisers. The tracks of the various warships all converged toward one point in space.
Bradamont’s unease kept growing as she watched. The Syndicate heavy cruisers in pursuit of the light cruisers were accelerating at a rate that would catch the smaller warships just after they joined up with Pele and Gryphon. There were plausible explanations for that, but it was odd that the heavy cruisers were continuing their pursuit when their own projections must have shown them that they would reach their prey too late to destroy them. And every meter the heavy cruisers drove toward Pele was another meter into a fight with a battle cruiser that the heavy cruisers could not hope to win.
It felt increasingly wrong. Kontos should see that, too. But she knew how easily a ship’s captain could be caught by such a lure, not seeing the problems or potential dangers and focusing on the chance to not only save two newly friendly warships but also to destroy two enemy warships. What an opportunity! Exactly what someone would wish for. Admiral Geary had often made a point of warning against situations that seemed too good to be true.
Half an hour remained until they would see Pele and Gryphon meet up with the fleeing light cruisers. Bradamont stood up abruptly and left her stateroom, trying to ignore the bodyguards, who fell into place behind her. The walk to the bridge wasn’t too long since the command spaces and the highest-ranking officers’ staterooms were all located near the center of the battleship in the most well-protected part of the ship.
Mercia looked over at Bradamont as she walked onto the bridge and sat in the flotilla commander’s seat next to Mercia’s own ship commander’s seat. “It stinks worse with every minute,” Mercia said.
“It does.” Bradamont brought up her display and pointed an angry finger at the two heavy cruisers. “Look at them. Coming on straight toward Pele. Kontos has to see that it’s a trap of some sort!”
“But what kind of trap?” Mercia asked herself as much as Bradamont. “I’ve heard that the Syndicate has employed some suicide attacks, but those used small ships, courier ships with small crews.”
“They have,” Bradamont said angrily.
“Ah. Apologies. You were with Black Jack when they did that? It’s an ugly way to fight, but the snakes always fight ugly.”
Fifteen minutes remained until they saw what had happened when Kontos had met up with the light cruisers. “How much longer until he receives my message?” Bradamont asked, gazing at the unfamiliar Syndicate Worlds controls.
“Here.” Mercia leaned over and tapped a control. “There’s the count. About five more minutes. If Kontos hasn’t already started wondering about this whole setup, that message should wake him up.”
Midway’s bridge usually had only a low level of noise. Kapitan Mercia ran a tight ship. But it was quieter than usual now as everyone watched the events on their displays, knowing that no matter what happened, they were far too distant to influence events that had taken place three hours before.
If no other maneuvers had occurred, Kontos’s force would have passed through the two light cruisers at close range, continuing on to hit the pursuing Syndicate heavy cruisers.
“He’s detaching Gryphon,” Mercia noted at the same moment that Bradamont spotted the movement. Battle cruiser Pele had turned and was braking, while Gryphon had accelerated toward the oncoming light cruisers. “It’s not a direct intercept. Gryphon is going to pass to one side of the light cruisers.”
Bradamont felt herself smiling. “He’s going to have Gryphon take a good look at the main propulsion on those light cruisers before Pele gets to them. And Pele is swinging out and down to pass clear of the light cruisers as well.”
The results of those moves had come quickly. Three hours ago, as Gryphon and Pele split, the two fleeing light cruisers had also begun diverging, one aiming for Gryphon and one for Pele.
“Smart!” Bradamont said. “Kontos did exactly the right thing to force the hands of those light cruisers!”
A tactical feed from Pele appeared alongside the other data, relaying the communications that had passed back and forth three light hours away. Kontos had warned the light cruisers to continue onward, saying he would deal with the heavy cruisers. The same executive on the same light cruiser had called back, pleading for protection. “Our units will be very valuable to Iceni!”
As one light cruiser continued to close on Gryphon and the other on Pele, Kontos’s messages grew sharp. “You will remain clear of my ships!”
The executive had kept pleading. “The Syndicate heavy cruisers are right behind us! We need protection! Our main propulsion has been damaged!”
Mercia indicated another set of data on the displays. “Pele and Gryphon have two sets of firing solutions ready, one set aimed at the heavy cruisers and the second at the light cruisers. Kontos is ready for anything.”
At that point, three things had occurred almost at the same moment.
Kapitan Third Rank Stein on the Gryphon had suddenly altered vector, getting a clear look at the main propulsion on one of the light cruisers. “Kapitan Kontos! Only minor cosmetic damage is visible!”
An alert appeared, showing that the sensors on both Pele and Gryphon had picked up unusual fluctuations from the power cores on both light cruisers.
Simultaneously, the two light cruisers leapt forward as their main propulsion kicked in at full, one cruiser homing in on Gryphon and the other aiming for Pele.
CHAPTER NINE
MISSILES tore away from Midway’s warships, the ones fired by Gryphon having such a close target that they impacted within seconds as Gryphon hurled a full volley of hell lances and grapeshot at the light cruiser. One moment that light cruiser was trying to bend its vector fast enough to hit Gryphon, and the next its entire forward section had been blown to dust, the stern section rolling wildly up and off to the side.
Pele had a slightly longer time to shoot, but the light cruiser aiming for her was already lined up for intercept. Kontos didn’t take any chances, pivoting Pele to ensure every possible weapon could come to bear on the attacker. The light cruiser was hit by a barrage that immediately collapsed its shields, tore through the light armor on its bow, then ripped down the length of the ship.
Pele continued o
nward, a field of small debris and dust passing astern and beneath her marking the remains of the second light cruiser.
The heavy cruisers which had been pretending to pursue the light cruisers had also altered vectors, swinging through an arc as they aimed to hit Gryphon before she could rejoin Pele.
“They weren’t planning to ram,” Mercia said, her eyes intent on her display. “The light cruisers were going to get right next to our ships and detonate their power cores. Gryphon would have been destroyed and Pele crippled, then the heavy cruisers would have finished her off.”
“There haven’t been any escape pods coming off what is left of the light cruiser that went after Gryphon,” Bradamont noted. “I wonder how large the crews were on those light cruisers?”
Kapitan Stein on Gryphon hadn’t done the instinctive thing and tried to evade the heavy cruisers, which would have only slowed down Gryphon and made her an easier target, instead charging right into the attack. The three ships had rocketed past each other at a combined velocity of nearly point three light speed, so fast that even their automated fire control systems could not compensate for the relativistic distortion that warped the ships’ views of each other. Every shot fired missed.
With Pele now bearing down on them and Gryphon swinging in a vast arc to intercept again, the two Syndicate heavy cruisers bolted back for the jump point. The Syndicate warships had not finished their own turn back when Pele raced past above them and hammered one of the heavy cruisers so badly that it began sliding off to one side, unable to maneuver.