Part 1 (2/2)

Such a wonderful thing, progress.

The proximity alarm trilled: the Komitadji's bow had touched the focal ellipsoid. ”Stand by,” Lles.h.i.+ ordered. ”Scintara Catapult, you have the timer. Launch at T-zero.”

Scintara acknowledged. Thirty-eight seconds later, with a metallic stutter of stress from the paraconducting underskin, the stars abruptly disappeared from the viewscreens.

Lles.h.i.+ took a careful breath, mind and body slipping automatically into full combat mode. It was nearly three hundred light-years from Scintara to the Empyreal world of Lorelei: just under six seconds of hypers.p.a.ce travel. ”Stand by,” he murmured, more from habit than any expectation that his crew wasn't ready. He settled himself... and, as abruptly as they'd disappeared, the stars were back.

”Location check,” he ordered. The nav display had sprouted multicolored relative-V arrows now: many of the ”stars” on the visual were, in fact, asteroids. But that didn't necessarily put them in the right net-all the nets around Lorelei seemed to be deep in the system's extensive asteroid belts. ”If we're in the right net, key for data retrieval.”

”Focused pulse transmissions from the planet, Commodore,” the comm officer reported. ”We're in the right net. Copying now.”

”Campbell?”

”Tactical coming up now, sir,” the SeTO said. ”Defenses as expected.”

Lles.h.i.+ nodded, his eyes on the tac display... and it was indeed as expected. Arrayed in a rough triangular pyramid two hundred kilometers on an edge around the Komitadji were four small s.h.i.+ps. Each of them carried the pole of a hypers.p.a.ce catapult; together, they guarded the center of the net field that had-somehow-s.n.a.t.c.hed the Komitadji from its original hypers.p.a.ce vector and deflected it to this precise point. Any three of those s.h.i.+ps, acting together, could throw the Komitadji right back out of the system, in any direction they chose.

And if they did so immediately, young Kosta might as well not have bothered coming aboard.

”Message, Commodore,” the comm officer announced. ”They remind us the Empyrean has closed its borders to s.h.i.+ps of the Pax, and request that we state our business here.”

Lles.h.i.+ smiled tightly. So the first part of the gamble had succeeded: the Komitadji's sheer size had caught the Empyreals off guard. Even now they were scrambling to recalibrate their catapult as they tried to make the invaders waste time with useless conversation. He threw a glance in Telthorst's direction, saw only the back of the Adjutor's head. ”No return message,” he said quietly. ”Attack pattern Alpha.”

The Komitadji's lights dimmed slightly as, on the tactical, four lines of blue light lanced out, one focused on each of the distant catapult s.h.i.+ps. Behind the laser beams four yellow plasma jets boiled out; following right on their heels the red lines of a dozen Spearhawk missiles shot similarly outward. Lles.h.i.+ was pushed back into his chair as the Komitadji's engines roared to life, driving the s.h.i.+p away from the center of the pyramid. The Empyreal s.h.i.+ps moved to stay with them, the Spearhawk missiles s.h.i.+fting vectors in turn to match the movement. The Komitadji's computers refocused the lasers, launched new plasma clouds- And a second later, almost in unison and at least thirty kilometers out from their targets, all twelve Spearhawks exploded.

”Premature detonation; all missiles,” Campbell reported. ”Plasma and lasers having no discernible effect; catapult s.h.i.+ps still tracking us. Second Spearhawks away.”

”Data pulse retrieval complete,” the comm officer called as another set of twelve Spearhawks appeared on the tactical, arcing toward the defenders. ”Copy dumped to coc.o.o.n.”

Behind the four beleaguered catapult s.h.i.+ps eight similar s.p.a.cecraft had now appeared on the tactical, emerging from cover behind various asteroids. Back-ups, already starting to configure themselves into catapult arrangement. ”Coc.o.o.n launch on my command,” Lles.h.i.+ ordered, frowning with concentration as he watched the second group of Spearhawks climb toward their targets. With the detonation codes already computed by the Empyreals, this set ought to go considerably closer to the Komitadji than the previous ones had- In twelve simultaneous flashes, they did... and surrounded by light and fire and expanding clouds of debris, the Komitadji was momentarily hidden from enemy view. ”Coc.o.o.n: launch!” he snapped.

The Komitadji didn't lurch-it was far too big for that-but Lles.h.i.+ imagined he could feel the dull thud of the explosive springs as their cargo was blown clear of the Number Six hold. ”Third Spearhawks away,” Campbell called.

”Fire Harpies,” Lles.h.i.+ ordered. ”Random minus one pattern.”

”Acknowledged. First Harpies away.”

On the tactical the twelve Spearhawk trails were abruptly joined by fifty more, bursting outward from the Komitadji like the time-lapse flowering of a strange and exotic plant. Almost lost among them was the tiny spot drifting with maddening leisure from the Komitadji's starboard side. ”Hard aport,” Lles.h.i.+ ordered. ”Draw the catapult focus away from the coc.o.o.n.”

He was pushed into the side of his chair as the helmsman complied. With plasma and missile debris blocking their view it took a few seconds for the Empyreal s.h.i.+ps to notice the maneuver and move to match it; simultaneously, the Harpy missiles began exploding. ”They've found the Harpies' code,” Campbell said. ”Second Harpies ready.”

”Focus forming,” the helmsman called. ”Five seconds: mark.”

”Hold second Harpies,” Lles.h.i.+ ordered. If Kosta and the coc.o.o.n weren't in the clear now, wasting another batch of expensive missiles on what was little more than a fireworks display wasn't going to make the difference. ”Stand ready for catapult.”

And with the usual stuttering from the hull, the universe vanished.

Automatically, Lles.h.i.+ started counting the seconds; but he'd barely begun when the stars returned. The stars, and a dull red sun barely visible to one side.

Carefully, he let out a quiet breath. That had been the final gamble of this phase of the operation, and now it too had come up clean. ”Secure from battle stations,” he ordered. ”Location check, and scan for the coc.o.o.n.”

”Location computed, Commodore,” the navigator said briskly. ”We're fifty-four point seven light-years from the Lorelei system; running a hundred thirty million klicks out from the local sun. I'll have an orbit profile in a moment.”

”No trace of the coc.o.o.n within inner scan limit,” the scanner chief added. s.h.i.+fting to midrange, but looks like a clean drop.”

”Good. Get us some rotation, and have engineering start putting the kick pod catapult together.”

The weight warning trilled through the command deck; and as the huge s.h.i.+p started almost imperceptibly to rotate, Lles.h.i.+ turned to look at Telthorst. ”You see now why we weren't all that worried about risking the Komitadji.”

The Adjutor gazed back, his eyes hard. ”Two hundred million kilometers further and you wouldn't be in a position to gloat,” he said pointedly. ”Our vector would have pa.s.sed straight through that star out there and we'd all be very, very dead.”

”Agreed,” Lles.h.i.+ nodded. ”Which I imagine is why it took the Empyreals so long to get rid of us. Laser-point precision on top of a fast field reconfiguration.”

Telthorst looked at the dim star on the viewscreen. ”I suppose they expect us to be impressed by that.”

Lles.h.i.+ shrugged. ”I'm impressed. Aren't you?”

The Adjutor looked back at him, his lip twisted in contempt. ”Impressed, Commodore? Impressed by a people who've become so sheep-like that they won't kill even in their own defense? You're too easy to please.”

”Am I?” Lles.h.i.+ countered, the slow unprofessional burn starting again. ”Those Empyreals were risking their lives, Adjutor-make no mistake about that. If those Spearhawks had hit them they'd have died, with or without those fancy sandwich-metal hulls of theirs. In my experience, sheep seldom come equipped with that degree of courage.”

Telthorst's expression didn't change... but abruptly Lles.h.i.+ felt a chill in the air. ”Admiration of one's opponents is said to be a useful trait in diplomats,” the Adjutor said softly. ”The same doesn't apply to soldiers. Bear in mind, Commodore, that we're not dealing with men here. We're dealing with men under alien control. There's a considerable difference.”

”I'm aware of what we're up against,” Lles.h.i.+ said, keeping a firm grip on his temper. ”But then, that's why we're here, isn't it? To rescue our fellow human beings from these dangerous angels?”

The lines around Telthorst's mouth deepened. ”Don't mock me, Commodore,” he warned. ”I may not profess admiration for their soldiers the way you do. But I wasn't the one who set up a dry scorch run, complete with a full complement of fighters and h.e.l.lfire missiles ready in their launch tubes.”

Lles.h.i.+ swallowed a curse. He'd hoped that in all the excitement Telthorst would have forgotten about the Beta simulation. Not only hadn't he forgotten, he'd obviously even taken the time to monitor that part of the exercise. ”My orders are to subdue the Empyrean and bring it under the Pax umbrella,” he said stiffly. ”I intend for my crew to be ready for any contingency that may arise in the act of carrying out those orders.”

”I applaud your foresight,” Telthorst said. ”Just remember that the operative word is 'subdue.' Not 'destroy'; 'subdue.' ”

”Understood,” Lles.h.i.+ growled. No, of course the operative word wasn't ”destroy.” You could put an Adjutor into a cold sweat simply by suggesting something with cash value or money-making potential might be damaged. ”Let me remind you in turn that that was the main reason we chose the Kosta feint over the other scenarios Spec Ops suggested. If he isn't caught, he may be able to provide us with valuable information on the angels.”

Telthorst snorted. ”Of course he'll be caught. Isn't that the whole purpose of a feint? To get caught?”

Lles.h.i.+ nodded reluctantly, feeling a twinge of discomfort. Dangerous situations were hardly anything new to him, and he'd had his fair share of ordering men onto what were little more than suicide missions. But always before they'd been military men, who had known what they were getting into and had had the best possible chance of getting out alive. Not a civilian with barely eight weeks of training.

Especially not a civilian who'd been lied to straight from square one about what his contribution was expected to be. ”He may get lucky,” he said.

Telthorst eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. ”Perhaps. I'd like a copy of that Lorelei data pulse.”

Lles.h.i.+ caught Campbell's eye, nodded. Wordlessly, the other stepped over to Telthorst and handed him a data cyl. ”Thank you,” the Adjutor said, getting to his feet. ”If you need me, Commodore, I'll be in my stateroom.”

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