Victory (11 page)

He paused, to either catch his breath, or to let the enormity of the destruction sink in. “We estimate about one hundred and twenty-five singularities were fired into the crust. Atmospheric dust coverage is at ninety-nine percent.
 

“Any sign of the Swarm fleet?”

“None, sir.”

No.
No you bastards, you’re not getting away that easily.
“Continue scanning. Scan toward the other inner solar system planets. Athena is the next one out, and there’s a few orbiting mining colonies out there in the asteroid belt.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Tim,” said Proctor, who’d been talking to the Science Station crew. “We estimate about two billion tons of material billowing around, screening out most solar radiation. With the sun completely blocked out, the average planetary temperature will start to plunge within days. Recommend we request a relocation fleet to set out from Earth immediately.”

“Do it,” he said.

Relocation. Perhaps twenty thousand people left, out of tens of millions.

He was tired of this. It was time not only to take the fight to the enemy, but to turn their own weapons on them.

Hanrahan. Colonel Hanrahan. Back when Granger had confronted his Swarm-compromised security chief, he’d used the Swarm’s own communication method against them.
Somehow
. He still had no idea what he’d done, or how he did it. All he knew was that, at some point, he’d been tied into the Swarm’s communication network, and had somehow tapped into it to convince Hanrahan to lower his weapon, even if only for a second.

He closed his eyes.

Where are you? Where the hell are you, you miserable rat bastards?

No, he wasn’t going to find them that way. His state of mind was too angry. When he’d influenced Hanrahan, it wasn’t with anger. He breathed deeply, and slowly, calming his mind.

Where are you? Where are you, my friends?

He searched his mind, grasping at any stray thought, any hint of Swarm presence. They
had
to still be there somewhere. There was no reason for them to stick around after the fall of York, but part of him raged against the idea that they could simply swoop in, destroy a world, and not stick around for the consequences. There had to be consequences. He needed to bring justice to them.

Where are you, my friends?

We are here, our friend. We never left. We will be with you, always.

He opened his eyes.

“New course. Distribute this heading to the fleet.” He keyed in a set of coordinates and sent them to Ensign Prince.

“Sir? These ... these are in the asteroid belt out past Athena.”

“I know, Ensign.”

“But sensors show nothing there. Nothing but asteroids.”

He glanced up at Prince. Then Proctor. The entire bridge crew was staring at him. “Regardless. That’s where we’ll find the bastards that did this. When we’re clear of York’s gravity well, engage q-jump drive.”

“How do you know, Tim?” Proctor had stepped forward. Everyone was now looking at her. Then back to him. Like there was a showdown of wills. Not that she was challenging him, but she was voicing all their doubts. All their unspoken suspicions about him.

“I just know. That’s where we’ll find the cumrat ships that destroyed York. Anyone got a problem with this? We’re going there to destroy them. Anyone got a problem? I imagine Commander Pierce doesn’t. His family is buried down there. I imagine the
ISS Lancaster
doesn’t—their entire ship was crewed from York. They’re in our fleet right now—I imagine they’ll lead the charge.”

“But sir, there’s nothing
there
,” said Proctor. She held up a datapad. “Here. Look for yourself. All visual scans—”

“Are over thirty minutes old,” interrupted Granger. “It might not look like they’re there now—the light from their ships won’t hit our sensors for another thirty minutes—but they are. I know it.” He stood up, taking in the gazes of the bridge crew. “Anyone else want to speak up?”

Silence.

“Right, then. Maximum thrust.”

Warily, the crew moved into action. Five minutes later, they were sufficiently clear of the gravity field to safely initiate a q-jump.

“Signal to the fleet. Q-jump on my mark.” He paused until Ensign Prucha at comm indicated everyone was ready.
 

“Now.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bridge, ISS Warrior

York, Britannia Sector

A moment later, the screen shifted and the swirling, lightning-filled dust clouds disappeared, replaced by a star field dotted with asteroids.

“Scanning,” said Ensign Diamond. “Nothing showing up on visuals. Scanning the rest of the EM band.”

Granger tapped his fingers. They were
here
. He knew it. “Keep at it, Mr. Diamond.” He raised his head. “Mr. Pierce, are my birds ready?”

A woman answered. “This is Lieutenant Schwitzer. Commander Pierce is indisposed at the moment, Sir. But yes, we’re all ready down here.”

Granger understood. “Tell him we’re on the hunt.” He remembered the picture of his CAG’s family sitting on Pierce’s desk. “They’re not getting away this time.”

Another minute passed. “Still nothing, sir.”

Granger balled his fists. Where the hell were they?

The time ticked by. Every sensor band came up clean. Nothing but asteroids, and open space.

“Tim,” began Proctor, leaning in close so no one else would hear. “We should go talk.”

He shot her a look, eyes sharp as daggers. The tone of her voice said only one thing.
You’ve gone off the deep end, old man.

With teeth clenched, he closed his eyes.
I’m here. I’m here, my friends. Show yourselves.

Another minute. Proctor bent low next to his chair, crouching. “Tim,” she whispered. “It’s time to call it off.”

He kept his eyes closed. Another minute.

Her hand rested gently on his arm. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, opened his eyes, and stood up. “Very well. Set a course back to York and commence rescue operations.” He started walking toward his ready room. He noticed Proctor following him. “Lieutenant Diaz, you have the bridge. Let me know when—”

“Sir!” shouted Ensign Diamond. “Ten Swarm carriers, out of nowhere! Q-jumped in right on top of us!”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bridge, ISS Warrior

Asteroid Belt, York System, Britannia Sector

The ship shook as the hull was pounded with antimatter beams. Granger grabbed onto an outstretched hand from one of the marines at the door to steady himself. “Evasive maneuvers,” he shouted.

“Full about! Launch fighters! All ships form up into attack wings and engage!” Proctor had run to tactical and began to direct the battle. There was no escaping from this one, not that Granger wanted to. He’d hunted the Swarm to this point. Hell, he’d summoned them.

He stumbled back to his chair and monitored the battle. They were taken by surprise, but the odds were even—he had twenty-four ships to the Swarm’s ten. It would be close—the casualties would be horrific, but they’d pull out a victory. Especially if he could outthink them. His eyes glanced toward the tactical readout and the display of the surrounding asteroid-filled environment. Most were small, but there were a few larger ones that might come in handy.

“Helm, move us in toward that asteroid. The one at fifteen mark eight.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The tiny dot grew larger very quickly, and soon the
Warrior
and the dozen ships of its attack wing swung around the giant rock. “Now, new course. Use the shadow of that rock, and redirect us toward that dwarf planetoid.” He pointed to his tactical display, indicating the hundred-odd kilometer wide rock in the near distance.

The ship rumbled in the background as four Swarm carriers continued their hot pursuit.
 

“Sir, just lost the
Michigan
. The
Budapest
is losing power,” said Lieutenant Diaz.

“Just get us to that rock. Swing around the backside, accelerate, and come at them with some speed.”

The planetoid grew larger, its cratered, pockmarked surface gleaming white in the distant sunshine. On the far side, Ensign Prince kicked in the thrust, well past the recommended limits of the inertial cancelers, and as a result the ship shuddered with the violently alternating momentum swings as the systems tried to keep up, adding to the growing rumble of the explosions in the rear decks.

“We’re not shaking them, sir. They’ve kept up this whole time.” An explosion cut off Lieutenant Diaz. “Just lost engine four.”

He closed his eyes again. He summoned them here. Maybe he could send them away. Maybe he could send them off course. Maybe he could control them.

Friends, stop.

Friends, stop. We need to talk.

In response, only laughter. Or its equivalent. He didn’t hear it, but he could feel it. They had played him, and he’d fallen for it, and now they scoffed at him.

But now there was something else. Another voice. Something discordant. Angry and howling.
We’re coming
, it said. There were no words—never any words, but he felt the feeling and knew the meaning and the meaning was unmistakable.

He opened his eyes and was not surprised in the slightest when Ensign Diamond announced, “New contact. It’s a Dolmasi ship. No, it’s fifty Dolmasi ships.”

They had flashed into existence right next to the small planetoid, already traveling straight toward the incoming enemy. Without pause they opened fire on the four Swarm carriers pursuing the
Warrior
and its fleet.

“Help them out, tactical.”

“Full mag-rail spread,” said Proctor. “Laser banks, target where the Dolmasi’s antimatter beams hit. Open up those holes.”

Within a minute, they’d made quick work of the four ships. Granger watched the tactical display and sighed in relief as he watched the remaining six carriers disappear, fleeing before the Dolmasi reached them.

“About time,” he said out loud. They’d come. They’d finally come. In the two months since he’d helped them regain their homeworld, they’d never once helped in any battle. Never once come when summoned, desperately, to help repel an invasion. He had begun loathing the idea that he’d helped them liberate their world, loathing the idea of being made a tool, an unwitting instrument in someone else’s plan.

But they’d finally come. They came when they didn’t have to. When they had nothing to gain.

Leaning back to Proctor, he wondered, “Think we can trust them yet?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

President's Stateroom, Frigate One

High Orbit, Earth

“He wants to take me to a planet called Penumbra Three, presumably because Malakhov is scheduled to do an inspection tour there in a few days.”

Avery was jabbing and typing furiously at her computer terminal pad in her lap, but glanced up at Isaacson’s mention of the planet. “Penumbra Three. Now why does that name ring a bell?”

Isaacson shrugged. He was dour. Sullen. From her other computer monitor nearby she could see the constant readout of the man’s emotional state, and even view words and phrases as they appeared in one of the boxes on the screen. She’d been able to read his thoughts from his face since the beginning. The implants made the process more ... literal, but he’d recently been developing a troubling self-discipline that made it increasingly difficult to see what he was truly thinking.

The emotions, of course, were laid bare to her. He couldn’t hide those from the thirty-odd implants tucked deep into his skin. And he was always bad at hiding his feelings from her. The revulsion for her pulled at his eyes, made his nostrils flare, tugged at the corners of his mouth. His left eye twitched ever so slightly on the occasions when the emotion indicator on the screen suggested barely-concealed anger and disgust. This was tearing him apart, and she loved every minute of it.

“No idea, ma’am.”

She leaned back for a moment before nodding. “I remember now. Granger’s fleet stumbled into a Russian settlement there two months ago, presumably in Swarm space. Were chased off pretty quickly, if I remember right. Why? What’s there that Volodin wants you to see?”

“Malakhov? Maybe he thinks killing him somewhere far from Earth will—”

Avery snorted. “Oh, don’t be so naive, Isaacson. Do you really think Volodin wants to kill his boss?” She held up a hand. “Yes, yes, I know there are plenty of lower-level politicians around who’ve wanted to kill their bosses, you don’t need to remind me. But ... no. This is a trick, somehow. He wants to get you out there for another reason, and we need to know why.”

“Are we going to keep me here then? Draw it out of him? Convince him to tell me what’s so special about the place?”

“Of course not. We’re sending you. That’s the easiest way. Plus, it will further convince him you are absolutely on his side. I’ll protest, of course, and complain to some of the senators and blowhards that you’re leaving on some damn-fool diplomatic mission in the middle of hostilities with the Russians, and that will leak back to him and reassure your allegiance is real. Then, when he reveals his true intentions, you’ll continue on with the original plan. I need that peace treaty. Our fleets need some breathing room—we can’t keep patrolling our Russian border.

“And then?” said Isaacson, carefully.

Too carefully
. She laughed again at him, and just for a moment she saw the anger indicator spike on her terminal.

“And then, Mr. Isaacson, you’ll be free. Do this task for me, and I’ll let you go. I’ll disable the implants. Hell, if you trust me enough, I’ll arrange for them to be taken out completely. Or you can do it yourself. Either way they’ll be disabled and harmless if you choose to take them out.”

He looked flabbergasted. “Really? You’ll take them out?”

“Of course, Eamon. You’ve made a noble effort at atoning for your sins. You are not clean yet, but this peace treaty with Malakhov will go a long way toward regaining my trust. And the trust of all the top brass, and the people. Public opinion of the Russian Confederation is at an all-time low, Eamon, ever since their betrayal at Volari Three. They’ll hate me for making a peace treaty, and consequently they’ll love you more. Never mind the fact that once this is over, we’ll nuke the Russian bastards to kingdom come. But for now, seeing you negotiate a temporary peace with the despised leader of the new Russian empire will make you a hero in the eyes of billions.”