We will prevail.
Seven
The general quarters alarm still echoed through the ship. It seemed as if it had been going on forever, but Orren knew it really hadn’t been more than a hour or so. During that hour he’d paced three steps one way, then back. That was all the distance his tiny cabin allowed him to pace.
Three steps, turn, back three, turn.
At one point he discovered he was pacing in time with the whooping of the alarm and had forced himself to stop for a moment.
Then he was back up pacing again.
The last hour had been one of the longest hours of his life. He just wished he and Ziggy were already on the planet, fighting beside his friends and classmates. Even as afraid as he was of facing the unknown future, in battle as he had been trained, side-by-side with Ziggy, was a lot better than being alone in a small cabin listening to an alarm sound.
It seemed that his and Ziggy’s path to the fight was doomed to be a bumpy one. From his getting sick and Ziggy’s late birth, to this. One day’s difference between being in the fight and sitting here, in space, waiting for the outcome.
One day of good luck. Or bad luck. Sometimes there was no telling which it was.
He paced for a few more minutes, then said aloud, “To hell with the regulations.”
He snapped open his door and strode down the corridor for the cargo bay. Around him the general quarters alarm still sounded, but now he ignored it. He was going to be with his Bolo and he didn’t care what kind of trouble that got him in.
* * *
General Kiel, standing beside General Rokoyan, watched as the battle unfolded on the big monitors and maps in front of them.
First, off in space, undetected, the Tasmanian accelerated toward the planet, leaving its safe position. After a quick burn to insert itself into the right position and speed, it shut down its engines, battle screens, and radios. Kiel knew that it would be “running silent” as the old submariners used to say. Kiel hoped that in the confusion of battle it would avoid detection until the last possible instant.
Kiel then turned his attention to a position off the shore of the southern continent. At that moment the DDF forces submarine Sea Scorpion surfaced.
“Sea Scorpion is elevating its Hellbores now,” a tech in front of the big command board reported.
Kiel glanced at the time. Perfect. In short order the sub’s 90cm Hellbore would be aimed toward the Kezdai fleet. It would only be able to take a few shots before diving to avoid return fire, but it was ready to join the massed bombardment. And at this point every shot counted.
On the big map Kiel could see that that advancing Kezdai forces were encountering strong resistance from conventional forces in the foothills. Several of the Kezdai mobile gun platforms had been destroyed in what amounted to suicide attacks by DDF conventional armor.
“Your men are fighting a good fight,” Kiel said to General Rokoyan.
“It is our planet to defend,” Rokoyan said. “Our families and homes. We will do what we must.”
On the big map, Kiel could see that Kal and three other Mark XXXs were nearing the outskirts of the city of Starveil. Or more accurately, what was left of the city. More than likely there was nothing there now but a field of rubble.
The Mark XXXIV Bolos still had their Hellrails pointed at the sky, pounding at the enemy fleet. But now, slowly, many of the Bolos were moving the aim closer and closer to one point directly over Starveil.
Kiel studied the map, saw every detail, and made no changes. At this point there was little left for him to do but sit, watch, and wait. Now it was up to the brave men and women in the field to win the battle.
“General,” a tech said, “there’s another problem.”
“Those are not words I wanted to hear,” Kiel said. “What is it?”
“I’ve confirmation of a large ship emerging from subspace,” the tech said, “possibly a dreadnought.”
“Damn,” Kiel said.
“I have no information that the Kezdai have a ship of this size,” General Rokoyan said. “Are you sure?”
The tech nodded. “I am, General. And it seems to be equipped with some kind of sensor refraction field that returns multiple targets.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Kiel said. This was far worse. Firing now was going to be like trying shoot through a kaleidoscope, but it was far too late to call off the operation. The Tasmanian’s orbit was their ticking clock. And there was no stopping that clock.
“The Kezdai must have been keeping this thing in reserve,” Rokoyan said. “Is the Kezdai commander sensing that their advance is slowing? Or is this just the first of many ships of this size?”
“They could have a thousand of those things on the other side of the jump point,” Kiel said, “but I’m betting this is one of a kind.”
“I hope you’re right on this one,” Rokoyan said.
“I am,” Kiel said. “We’ve seen their hand now. This is the point where we see what we’re made of. And I have a sneaking hunch they’ve played their hand just a little too soon.”
* * *
The Tasmanian lanced into the atmosphere, battle-screens suddenly active as it blazed in reentry.
No longer hidden, it was a shooting star visible to half the planet below.
It passed below the Kezdai fleet with all its gun turrets blazing.
Alien ship after alien ship took damage from the sneak attack. Many turned their attention away from the ground to try to counter the streaking Tasmanian.
At that moment, from below, concentrated fire punched at the center of the Kezdai fleet, from the Mark XXXIVs, from the Sea Scorpion. All the focus of the intense firepower was aimed at the Kezdai ships over Starveil.
Slowly the rain of spears from above stopped as the Kezdai fleet struggled to reorganize. It would only take them a few minutes to regroup, but by then the Tasmanian was out of range and moving away quickly.
By then the Sea Scorpion had gone back under water.
And those few minutes were all the Bolos on the ground needed.
* * *
“All Bolos, lower your Hellrails and concentrate on ground targets,” Veck ordered. The Hellrails were overkill on a planet’s surface, tearing huge gashes in the landscape as they fired.
But it was exactly what the ground forces needed. At once the battle turned. Shiva, formerly a target, was suddenly an island of fire, as its once attackers tried to retreat.
But Veck knew that there was no retreat for the Kezdai caught in this trap. Ringed in from the hills, they had no place to go, and no place to hide from the rampaging Bolos. For a few glorious minutes on the savannah, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Veck loved it, had never felt so powerful in all his life.
The battle had been turned. The Kezdai were being driven back, their advance broken.
“Incoming call from General Kiel,” Rover said.
“On the main screen,” Veck said.
“Looks like we did it,” Veck said as the general’s face appeared. But the general wasn’t smiling.
“For the moment the Kezdai fleet is scattering,” Kiel said, “and their ground forces are retreating. But a dreadnought is coming to take the fleet’s place while it regroups.”
“Damn,” Veck said. He turned away from the general. “Order all Bolos to raise their Hellrails and prepare to fire.”
“You’re going to have trouble,” Kiel said. “The aliens have a scramble of some sort.”
“Understood, General,” Veck said. “We’ll deal with it.”
He cut the general off, but then saw on the targeting scope exactly what Kiel had been trying to warn him about. There wasn’t just one target, but a dozen ghostly targets of the dreadnought, any one of which could be the real target.
But he had more than one Hellrail, he had twenty at his command.
“All Bolos coordinate your shots,” he ordered. “Each take a shadow target and fire in unison. One shot has to hit.”
“No!” Rover said. “That order will not be carried out.”
* * *
Intentionally or not, the enemy dreadnought is in the same line of fire as the approaching convoy. If we open fire on the sensor echoes, by definition most of our Hellrail pulses will miss, and not being ranged weapons, will continue on until they disperse, or until they strike another target. It is not clear that my Commander is aware of this, despite my repeated efforts to notify him.
The situation is desperate, but my Commander cannot be allowed to act without full information. It has been 69.456 minutes since I filed the form 10354/87-3A, and I have no response. While waiting for my Commander’s response to my declining of his order, I file an emergency request to headquarters for priority processing.