Fleet of the Damned (29 page)

Habit was certainly part of Lady Atago and Admiral Deska's decision to use aimed bombs. A second factor may have been their quite justified contempt for the Imperial forces. But there was a vast difference between the sloths and recruits of the 23rd Fleet and the hard men of the First Guards. The Empire might not have fought a major war for many years—but the First Guards were very experienced as the Empire's fire brigade. Most of the men of the Guard were careerists, and almost half of them had more than twenty years of combat experience, off and on.

Among their specialties were city fighting and security sweeps. There were more than fifty bomb controllers in place around Cavite City, hidden in attics or unused buildings or operating from long-set-up mole holes in offices or apartments.

Two battalions of Guards were deployed. They worked in five-person teams, five-finger machines. The first man knocked or rang on the door, standing to its side. Two more crouched, weapons ready to either side. The last two were back and to either side to provide covering fire or to keep anyone from sniping out a window. Any resistance, or refusal to answer, and the door came down. Any supposition that General Mahoney had a tendency to disregard civil liberties when it was expedient was most correct. Besides, any investigating commission would be set up only if they held Cavite, and only after the war was won.

Direction-finder gravsleds swept down the streets and over the buildings themselves.

Before the next wave of Tahn tacships came in for the launch, forty-seven guidance sites had been found; either the sites were eliminated along with their operators, or the Tahn fled, leaving their gear behind. The dozen or so left were IDed and removed after they attempted to illuminate the bomb targets.

The bombs scattered across the city. Harmlessly, if looked at from the military sense—only three significant targets were damaged. But they shattered Cavite City. There were 6,000 civilian casualties. The military defines its terms most selfishly.

The Tahn, however, did not escape unscathed. Sten's three tacships and a flight of patrolcraft were waiting on an anticipated orbit pattern. Twelve Tahn tacships were destroyed. The Tahn, expecting that their attacks would disrupt Cavite's air defenses, had sent in second- and third-class ships.

Three more waves came in, again at the Tahn-dictated interval of three hours. All three attacks were decimated.

All three bombing missions went wild. And more citizens, both Imperial and Tahn, died.

Then Lady Atago changed her tactics.

So did Sten.

"She's gone till her father's garden,

And pu'd an apple, red and green;

Twos a' to wyle him, sweet Sir Hugh,

And to entice him in."

Alex stopped muttering and looked at Foss. "What're y' gawkin't a', swab?"

"Didn't know you spoke any foreign languages, sir."

"Dinna be makin't fun ae th' way Ah speak. Ah hae yet't' makit up thae fitness report."

"So? There'll be no promotion/This side of the ocean/So cheer up my lads/Clot 'em all," Foss also quoted. "Sir."

The person to be wiled was of course not Sir Hugh, but the Tahn commander. And Sten was not planning to use an apple, either green or red. Instead, hung under each of the three tacships was a long, streamlined pod. It contained a full, destroyer-intended ECM suite, far more powerful if not as sophisticated as the countermeasure equipment on the Bulkeley-class tacships. Signals were fed from the pods and the tacships own electronics down a half-kilometer-long cable to strange and wonderfully configured polyhedrons below. The tacships hung about 200 meters above the main landing field.

"D' y' really thinkit this'll go?" Alex asked.

"Why wouldn't it?" Sten said.

"Ah. Try a differen' way. Supposin't it works aye too well?"

"We go boom."

"Ah no mind bein't expendable—but thae's no joy in bein't expungeable."

Sten had figured that when the operator-guided bombing missions failed, the next approach would be more conventional.

It was. Four Tahn destroyers multiple-fired operator-guided missiles from in-atmosphere, 1000 meters above the ground and about 400 kilometers away from Cavite City.

"I have a launch… I have multiples…" Foss suddenly announced in a monotone, his eyes pinned to a screen.

Equal reports chattered in from the
Claggett
and the
Richards
.

"All ships… stand by," Sten ordered. "On my order, activate…now!"

Foss touched a switch, and the electronic countermeasure pod hummed into life.

The Tahn operators were navigating their missiles with both radar and visual sensing fed into their control helmets. The visual range was extraordinarily easy to jam. Without excitement, the Tahn controllers put full attention on their radar guidance.

Their sensors punched through the clutter that was Cavite looking for their targets: large metallic objects. This strike was after what was left of the 23rd Fleet and the few ships Mahoney had remaining.

The skilled Tahn controllers found targets… their weapons computers kept all missiles from homing on a single ship… and the targets grew in the operators' radar eyes.

Narrow beams kept any of them from seeing those stationary ships move.

"Half speed," Sten ordered.

The tacships climbed.

"Do you have them?"

"Uhh… that's an affirmative. All missiles homing as projected."

"Full power… now! Drive power… now!

The tacships bolted into space.

The missiles were very close to the Imperial ships—or so the operators thought. What they were closing on were the radar-spoofing polyhedrons instead of the 23rd's grounded ships. Almost all of the missiles had their own automatic homing mechanisms active and, therefore, tried to follow the ships.

Stabilizing guidance systems tumbled, and the missiles spun out of control. A few, still under operator control, lost their targets and kept on keeping on while the controllers tried to figure out what had happened. A warship cannot vanish tracelessly.

Six of the missiles managed to track the false targets for a few moments until their fuel ran out and the missiles self-destructed.

A few AUs out, Sten ordered power cut, counted noses, and realized that they had gotten away with it. But that, he knew, would be a one-time-only gimmick.

He wondered what would happen next.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

T
ime became a blur for Sten and his crews. Their clocks and calendars were events half-remembered in mumbled exhaustion: That was the day we ran that recon patrol. No. We were escorting the sweepers then. Remember, that's when the
Sampson
blew up? You're full of drakh. We were out on a doggo ambush then.

No one knew for sure. Any of them would have traded their chances on an afterlife for two shifts of uninterrupted sleep, a meal that wasn't gobbled cold from a pak, or—don't even whisper it—a bath.

The ships stank almost as much as the sailors did, smelling of fear, fuel fumes, ozone, sweat, and overheated insulation. They were also starting to wear out. The Kali launcher on the
Richards
was kaput. That did not matter too much—there were only three of the giant missiles left. Both chainguns on the
Claggett
were capable of only intermittent fire, and its tell-me-thrice battle computer had lost a lobe. Sten's own ship, the
Gamble
, had only six Goblin launchers that still tracked.

All of the Yukawa drive units needed teardown—they were many, many hours outside the regulated service intervals. The AM2 drives still functioned, unsurprisingly since they had approximately as many moving parts as a brick.

But the navcomputers were all causing problems—projected courses had to be run four times and averaged. When there was time, at least.

And the Tahn forces kept getting stronger and bolder. Sten almost hoped for the day of invasion to come.

In the meantime, there were the missions. Escort X ships… patrol Y sector… escort Guard Unit Z and provide cover until its forward firebase is secure…

Routine missions.

It was on one such "routine" mission that they encountered the ghost ship.

A stationary sensor had reported an inbound transport following a highly abnormal course. The transport did not respond to any communication attempts, nor did its IFF give the correct automatic responses for the assigned time period. Both radar and a flash visual identified the ship, however, as a standard-design Imperial fleet tender.

Sten assumed some sort of Tahn trap.

He positioned the
Gamble
and the
Claggett
at an intersection point on the transport's orbit and waited. The
Richards
was grounded, partially torn-down on Romney. Sutton and his crew were sure that this time they had figured out what was wrong with the Yukawa drives and promised a quick fix.

The transport broke the detector screens a few hours later. The two tacships waited. Sten expected that a couple of Tahn destroyers would be lurking somewhere behind the tender. But there was nothing. The
Gamble's Jane's
fiche identified the transport as an Atrek-class tender, the IFT Galkin.

Sten chanced challenging the transport. The automatic IFF response was weeks out of date. Foss could not get any sort of response other than that, nor was the transport broadcasting on any wavelength that could be received by the
Gamble
.

Sten launched his eye-modified Goblin to have a closer look. Possibly the transport was a dummy.

There was no response.

Sten matched orbits with the transport, put a recorder on, and circumnavigated the ship. Both locks and all cargo ports were sealed. There was no sign that any of the life-ships had been launched. Finally Sten brought the Goblin in until one fin touched the outer lock door. If the transport was a booby trap, that should set it off.

The detectors still reported no other ships onscreen. Still, Sten had a crawling feeling that the
Galkin
might be the bait for a nasty Tahn surprise.

He opened the tight beam to the
Claggett
to discuss the situation with Sh'aarl't. She was in complete agreement with him. It smelled very much like a trap. There was only one way to find out. Someone had to board the ship.

"Sh'aarl't… Kilgour and I are boarding. I want you about a light-second off, on the transport's back orbit."

Sh'aarl't came back at him instantly. "That doesn't sound too wise to me, Sten," she said. "If we are jumped, the
Claggett
would be outgunned by almost anything the Tahn threw at us—practically down to a lifeboat."

She had a strong point. Sh'aarl't and her weapons officer, Ensign Dejean, would check things out. The
Gamble
would play rear guard. Kilgour moved the ship into position and they both watched the screen as the
Claggett's
AM2 drive flared. A few moments later, the
Claggett
was docking with the
Galkin
.

Even at close range, there was nothing strange noted visually by either Sh'aarl't or Dejean. Their suit sensors also showed nothing beyond the normal. Sh'aarl't keyed her mike. "We're boarding."

Sten buried the instinct to say something stupid, like "be careful." Instead, he bent his head closer to the monitor, listening to the crackle of the two voices.

Dejean, expecting a bolt of lightning to leap from the ship to his suit glove, touched the outer lock control. It obediently irised open. Sh'aarl't and Dejean hesitated, then entered. Sh'aarl't's perceptions swung as the
Galkin's
McLean gravity generators provided a new "down" for them. Their boots touched the inside of the lock—again there was no sudden explosion.

"My suit shows normal atmosphere," Dejean reported. "But I have no intention of trusting it."

They kept their suit faceplates sealed. Sh'aarl't touched the inner lock control. It, too, opened.

She increased transmitter output power enough to punch through the ship's atmosphere and outer hull. They rhinoceros waddled in their armored combat suits into the
Galkin
.

They found nothing. The ship, from machinery spaces to the engine room, was completely deserted. None of the lifeships had been launched. All spacesuits, from survival type to the small, two-person work capsules, were racked.

Both beings found it more comforting to continue the search with weapons ready. Sh'aarl't turned on a recorder at her waist and fed the information back to the
Gamble
.

They checked the crew quarters. Not only were they deserted, the lockers that should have held the crew's personal effects were empty.

Dejean checked the ship's stores. They were bare, as if the
Galkin
had never been supplied before it took off.

Sh'aarl't ignored the crawl of fear down her back spine and went to the control room. She found the ship's log and ran it back. The Imperial Fleet Tender
Galkin
, Captain Ali Remo in command, had taken off from the planet of Mehr some six cycles previously. Complement forty-two officers, 453 enlisted. Captain Remo carefully noted they were six officers, thirty-four men under authorized complement.

The
Galkin
had been ordered to reinforce the 23rd Fleet on Cavite.

She key jumped to the log's last entry:

IMPERIAL
DATE
…
SHIP
DATE
22,
THIRD
WATCH
.
OFFICER
OF
THE
WATCH
:
LT
.
MURIEL
ERNDS
,
SECOND
OFFICER
ENSIGN
GORSHA
,
ENGINE
ROOM
CHIEF
ARTIFICER
MILLIKEN
.
COURSE
AS
SET
,
NO
UNPLOTTED
OBJECTS
DETECTED
. 2240
SHIPS
HOURS
GENERAL
QUARTERS
DRILL
ORDERED
PER
CAPTAIN
'
S
INSTRUCTIONS
.
TIME
TO
FULL
READINESS
7
MINUTES
, 23
SECONDS
.
STAND
DOWN
FROM
DRILL
ORDERED
, 2256
SHIPS
HOURS
. 2300
STANDARD
REPORT
INPUT