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The silent war by Ben Bova. Part four

He stopped, too, a few paces farther along the corridor, and looked her over. She seemed sincere enough, almost angry at him. Humphries laughed inwardly at the image of her, eyes flashing with righteous indignation, fists on her hips. Nice hips, he noted. She breathes sexy, too.

“We’ll see how warm-blooded you are tonight,” he said. Turning, he started along the corridor again. “I want the brat sent Earthside. To my family estate in Connecticut, or what’s left of it. That’s where his brother is. I’ve got enough staff and tutors there to start a university. Set up a facility for him there, get the best medical team on Earth to take care of him. Just keep him out of my sight. I don’t want to lay eyes on him again. Ever.”

Ferrer scurried to catch up with him. “Suppose they can cure him, make him healthy. Maybe nanotherapy or—”

“If and when that happy day arrives, I’ll reconsider. Until then, keep him out of my sight. Understand?”

She nodded unhappily. “Understood.”

Feeling nettled, fuming, Humphries ducked into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. Send the runt to Connecticut. Alex is down there. My real son. My clone. He’s growing up fine and strong. I should’ve gotten rid of that miserable little brat his first day, the day his mother died. I’ve got a son; I don’t need this other little slug.

Once he got to his desk, Humphries saw that a message from Grigor was waiting for him. He slid into his desk chair and commanded the phone to call his security chief.

Grigor appeared in front of Humphries’s desk, seated at his own desk in his own office, a few meters down the hall, dark and dour as usual.

“What is it?” Humphries asked without preamble.

“The Astro flotilla that has been assembled in the Belt is pursuing our Yamagata team, as predicted.”

Humphries dipped his chin a bare centimeter. “So the computer wargame is working out, is it?”

“The simulation is being followed. Gormley is rushing into the trap.”

“Good. Call me when it’s over.” Humphries was about to cut the connection when he added. “Send me the video record as soon as it’s available.”

Grigor nodded. “I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said, mirthlessly.

“They’re veering off,” Gormley said, his eyes riveted to the navigation screen. “Follow them! Increase speed. Don’t let them get away!”

The Sudanese executive officer noted with some relief that the three fleeing enemy ships had turned away from the sprinkling of small rocks that they had been approaching. They want no more to do with that danger than I do, he said to himself.

“We’re well within range,” said the weapons officer.

“Locked on?”

Without even glancing at her console, the weapons officer said, “Five lasers are locked onto each of the enemy’s vessels, sir.”

“Get on their tails,” Gormley said. “They may be armored, but they can’t armor their thruster nozzles. Hit their thrusters and we’ve got them crippled.”

Of course, thought the Sudanese. But his attention was still on those small rocks off to their starboard. Strange to see such small objects without a larger asteroid that gave birth to them. They’re like a reef in the ocean, a danger lurking, waiting to smash unsuspecting ships. Then he thought, For a man who was brought up far from the sea, you’ve become quite a mariner.

Harbin heard the alarm in the voice of his pilot. “They’re firing at us! Firing at all three of us.”

“They can’t do much damage at this range,” he said calmly.

“If they hit our thrusters…” The pilot turned in his chair and saw the set of Harbin’s jaw. “Sir,” he added lamely.

“All ships,” Harbin commanded, “increase elevation three degrees, now.”

To his exec he said, “Activate the rocks.”

“They’re maneuvering!” sang out the weapons officer.

Gormley saw it on the nav screen. “Keep locked onto them. Don’t let them get away!”

Even the Sudanese had turned his attention away from the small rocks that were now fairly far off to their starboard to concentrate on the battle action. The enemy ships were maneuvering in unison, which was foolish. Far better, when being chased, to maneuver independently and set up a more difficult targeting problem for the attackers.

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Categories: Ben Bova
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