Shattered Sun (The Sentinel Trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

“Understood.”

The line went dead. The bridge seemed to exhale.

“No wonder they keep the heat cranked up,” Tolvern said. “Dela Zam walks into the room and the temp immediately drops ten degrees.”

#

Twenty-two sloops of war joined
Blackbeard
in shouting with their active sensors at the ships of the enemy fleet. At first, the lances continued their methodical work on the ring, but within fifteen minutes, the searchers began to drift, and shortly thereafter, the ones vaporizing icy cuts in the ring stopped, too.

The harvester drifted toward the ring. This made the lances jostle, and the four spears moved away, as if in fear. Tolvern watched intently, hoping she was about to witness another struggle for dominance. Anything to disrupt the enemy. Maybe it would even break into a shooting fight.

No such luck. Instead, the harvester seemed to be making a final attempt to provoke Commander Li into a fight, but the sentinel stayed silent and hidden. The enemy fleet finally pulled out to the Kettle’s outer moons.

There they organized and swung into flight. They soon took a course that would intercept
Blackbeard
and the Hroom fleet.

“Looks like we got what we asked for,” Capp said. “Hurrah for us, eh, Cap’n?”

Twenty-eight lances, four spears, and a harvester ship. There was no way Tolvern had the muscle to fight them all. Not without McGowan or the battle station to back her up.

“Someone tell me how long we’ve got,” Tolvern said.

It was a relatively straightforward calculation based on current trajectories and acceleration, and Jane, the ship’s AI, was the first to respond. She sounded almost cheerful as she gave the bad news.

“Eleven hours and forty-seven minutes until intercept.”

Capp looked glum. “What do you suppose I taste like to the buzzards? Beef or pork?”

“Beer-marinated bacon,” Tolvern said. “Is that an actual dish? If not, it should be.”

“You think it’s funny, but look here.” Capp held up her left forearm. “I got the bloody Albion lions tattooed on my arm. They’re going to take one look at this and think I’m someone important.”

“You
are
someone important, Capp,” Tolvern said. “You’re the woman I’m going to finger as the captain of HMS
Blackbeard
when they take us prisoner.”

“Is this one of those jokes you tell when they put a noose around your neck? Or do you have something you’re cooking up?”

“A little bit of both.”

“So you got a plan for real?” Capp asked.

“I hope so,” Tolvern said. “Get that cultist back on the line. It’s time to dust off an old Hroom trick.”

Chapter Ten

Admiral Drake jumped into the Kettle System expecting to see his forces already gathered at the battle station. With luck, Tolvern or McGowan (or possibly both) would be on Sentinel 3, stripping its weapon systems.

Not likely, though. Almost certainly Commander Li would require a report from Hillary Koh about
Dreadnought
’s attempts to liberate Singapore before he turned over his tech. Drake hadn’t yet come close to fighting the harvester ship devouring the Singaporean home world, but he’d fought a major naval engagement against the buzzards harassing a refugee fleet.

Add in the struggle against the leviathan and the need to make a fresh attempt to reach Singapore, and he hoped Koh would give a favorable report. She had indicated as much, even though she’d often disagreed with his decisions during the past several weeks.

With or without Koh’s endorsement, Drake could prove his intentions. The bulk of Albion firepower would be in this system, together with thirty sloops under the general, itself a massive commitment from the bleeding, prostrate Hroom empire.

But the first scans of the system painted a dismal picture. A large fleet of lances and spears flew out from the Kettle, where the signature of energy weapons indicated a battle had recently occurred. There were over thirty ships in all, including a harvester.

Lloyd’s scans found
Blackbeard
next. It was moving on a collision course with the enemy. McGowan was in the system, too, but his cruiser,
Repulse
, and all of her support vessels loitered near a jump point far from the developing action. What the devil was McGowan doing? And where was the general’s fleet?

“Sir,” Lloyd said. “We found the Hroom sloops. Well, mostly.”

Drake looked down from the viewscreen. “What do you mean, mostly?”

“I’ll show you, sir.”

Lloyd divided the viewscreen into segments. At first, Drake’s hopes soared. Over sixty sloops of war had been located in the system, more than twice what the general had promised. They flew in three different waves, each with twenty-two ships.

And then the truth of the matter hit him. “They aren’t real, are they?”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Lloyd said. His heavy eyelids drooped almost closed as he studied his console. “A typical Hroom trick.”

The Hroom had a technology that allowed them to project their fleet to other locations in the system. Whatever signal they gave off appeared at first glance to represent actual ships. In the early years of Albion contact with the Hroom Empire—centuries ago, now—several battles had turned on these so-called phantom fleets when Royal Navy vessels rushed off to fight a force that did not exist, leaving positions weakened.

“And if
we
spotted it so easily, there’s no chance that the enemy will be fooled either, is there?” Drake said to Manx, whose initial response had been a sigh.

“You’d think Tolvern would tell them not to bother,” Manx said.

“Maybe she did. Mose Dryz might not have listened to her.”

“That didn’t take long,” Lloyd said. “Confirmed, sir. This force and this one over here are both phantoms. The real fleet is the one near
Blackbeard
.”

“Surely the Hroom weren’t always this rigid,” Manx said. “I can only imagine Apex laughing, or clucking, or whatever they do when they’re amused.”

“They express humor the same way they express any other emotion,” Drake said. “With a celebratory evisceration of their enemies.”

“The general let us down,” Manx said. “No surprise. I never thought he’d get his thirty sloops.”

“I never thought he’d get twenty,” Drake said. “If the Hroom had that kind of force, wouldn’t they be trying to save one of their planets? But he’s got more ships than he left with, and I’ll take it. Whatever we’ve got, it’s time to bring it together. Lloyd, open a subspace channel.”

“To whom, sir?” Manx asked.

“I don’t know what the blazes McGowan is doing out there, but unless he’s waiting for the Apex mother ship, I need him in action and not sitting on his hands.”

Drake composed the message and sent it to McGowan as soon as Lloyd prepared it for transmission. It was simple and unambiguous.

Engage the enemy at once.
 

“We might have sold the Hroom short, sir,” Lloyd said a few minutes later. “Take a look at this.”

Blackbeard
and Mose Dryz’s ships were still five hours from the approaching enemy fleet, but matters had seemed to be reaching the point of inevitability. Except that the Apex ships were turning away from combat. Swinging on a wide arc, they curved up on the z-axis and hooked back toward the Kettle.

Drake couldn’t figure it out at first. Why would the enemy retreat even though they enjoyed an overwhelming advantage in numbers and firepower? Belatedly, he realized what must have happened.

“I don’t understand,” Manx said. “Why would they turn around?”

“They don’t see Tolvern,” Drake said. “They must have lost her.”

“But they’re close, sir, and they’re hitting with all their sensors.”

“They only seem close from here, and that’s because we can see what’s happening. To the buzzards, it’s really not that close to be searching for a fully cloaked enemy. Their sensors are rubbish.”

“But they must have spotted
Blackbeard
at one point to come rushing out like that,” Manx insisted.

“We weren’t here—we don’t know what happened. Maybe Tolvern showed herself to lure them away, or there might be some other reason. But that Hroom trick seems to have thrown them off the trail. They may not have fallen for the phantom fleets, but they had to take a look, and when they did, they lost track of
Blackbeard
and her ships.”

“Could have just kept going and they’d have run into her,” Manx said.

“I know that, and you know that. Apex doesn’t. It’s a good reminder—the enemy is not all powerful and all knowing. They can be outsmarted.”

#

Drake expected Tolvern and Mose Dryz to slow their ships and allow
Dreadnought
and the rest of his fleet to catch up.
Dreadnought
was traveling uncloaked, brazenly showing her guns, daring the enemy to approach. Taunting, even. He didn’t expect Apex to bite—they surely knew that
Dreadnought
wasn’t alone, even though the rest of his fleet stayed cloaked.

But
Blackbeard
and the sloops kept charging forward, headed toward the gas giant. That was concerning. Tolvern must have spotted Drake, so why didn’t she wait for him?

As for McGowan, he’d set his task force in motion as soon as the admiral sent the subspace. McGowan must have been positioned to fly toward the battle station and only waiting for orders. Some of Drake’s anger faded. Maybe he and Tolvern had agreed to keep McGowan in reserve for some reason.

Tolvern’s subspace arrived just as Drake’s ships crossed the position where she’d tricked the enemy into retreating.

Apex searched with energy pulses. Failed. Left probes. Battle station did not see probes and tried to reposition. Location revealed. I am moving to assist.
 

Drake suppressed a curse. Apparently bad luck and carelessness on Commander Li’s part had revealed the battle station, and Tolvern felt compelled to rush in to defend him. He thought about calling her back, letting Sentinel 3 make an accounting of itself, then bringing in the fleet for a decisive engagement with whatever enemies survived.

But Drake needed the Singaporean weapons. And he’d promised to defend his new allies in return for their cooperation.

“But I won’t have Tolvern throwing away her life, either,” he told Manx, “not to mention wrecking that magnificent Hroom fleet.”

Drake sent Tolvern a two-word response.

Extreme caution.
 

#

Tolvern laughed when she got Drake’s subspace. “Extreme caution? Is he serious?”

“It means he don’t want us doing nothing stupid,” Capp said.

“Like attacking an Apex fleet with a single cruiser and a bunch of Hroom sloops led by a death cultist?”

“He still thinks it’s the general in charge though, don’t he?”

“That doesn’t change the facts,” Tolvern said. “There are thirty-two lances and spears, plus a harvester. I’d rather stick my hand into a hole and pull out a rattlesnake. You’ll note that Drake didn’t tell us to stop and wait. Only to be careful. As if a warning does us any good.”

“The enemy is jumping,” Smythe announced.

Tolvern’s forces were faster than Apex’s, and she’d been gradually overtaking the enemy fleet. In another hour, she could have targeted the trailing ships with long-range missiles. But the Apex ships now jumped to safety, one by one. They reappeared about a million miles beyond the Kettle’s outermost moon. The harvester ship was last to arrive, and when it did, the other ships formed a cordon to shield it.

All eyes on the bridge were glued to the viewscreen. After days of slowly developing action, the next few hours would be thrilling. Would Apex make a charge at the battle station? That probe trick had been clever, and no doubt they’d kept Sentinel 3 in their sights. What about Li’s eliminon battery? How would he put it to use?

“Maybe Li got himself hidden again,” Capp said.

The harvester ship spit out three missiles. They started off slow and lazy, almost like torpedoes, but accelerated as they dropped toward the Kettle. When they reached the planet’s ring, they banked hard. Green pulses appeared from the ring and blasted them apart.

“Nope,” Tolvern said. “Not hidden.”

Li, you fool. All you had to do was stay motionless. Now they’ve got you.
 

Several lances peeled away from the harvester and hooked around the planet. Five more lances, together with two spears, swung into orbit around one of the larger moons. Two more lances jumped away. Others crowded the harvester ship.

“They’re breaking up the hunter-killer packs,” Smythe said. “What do you think that means?”

“They’re taking cover,” Tolvern said. “Setting up to ambush us.”

Capp grunted. “At least they ain’t attacking the battle station. Not yet, anyhow.”

No, they weren’t. Apart from that initial trio of missiles—which appeared to be an exploratory barrage only—the enemy hadn’t moved against the sentinel. The harvester was up to something, although it was hard to see what, exactly, with several lances hugging its hull and blocking the view. There it was. The harvester was opening up, releasing something.

Ten large objects drifted away, then ignited their engines.

“Are those more lances?” Tolvern asked. “Don’t tell me the harvester is really a carrier.”

“They’re too small to be lances,” Smythe said. “More like large torpedoes.”

“If you’re right, Li will shoot those out of the sky easily enough. Pilot,” Tolvern said to Nyb Pim, “let’s plot a new course.”

Tolvern gave him her attention, and they worked out a course that would get her through the enemy ships and toward the battle station. She didn’t have Sentinel 3’s exact position, but could narrow it down to a few thousand miles.

When she turned back to the viewscreen, there were almost thirty of the autonomously moving torpedoes. They began as several small clusters, but dispersed toward the various moons around the Kettle.

“How big were the boarding craft the buzzards rammed into
Blackbeard
?” she asked.

“These are bigger, if that’s what you’re asking,” Smythe said. “And they have engines. I doubt we’re looking at boarding craft.”