Alarm of War

refused to explode. Footsteps pounded closer. One Savak skidded into the intersection and Cookie hammered him with a short burst. A second ducked his arm around and fired a spray of pellets. Millard uttered a sharp cry of pain. “Goddammit, I’m hit again!”

“We’re having fun now!” Cookie muttered. Then Grant grabbed her by her battle harness and pulled her backwards though a small enclosure. She tripped and sprawled on the deck

“Don’t leave me,” Millard begged. “Don’t leave me!” He began to crawl across the deck. A spray of pellets stuck the wall above him. He reached out an imploring hand. “Please! Corporal, help me!”

Cookie struggled to her knees, but a Savak commando suddenly loomed in the hatchway. Cookie tried frantically to bring her rifle to bear, but the front sight caught on her clothing. The Savak was shouting something, his weapon almost on her, and then he flinched backwards, blood spurting from his knee. Grant shot him a second time in the leg. The storm trooper’s leg buckled and he fell on top of Cookie, pinning her with his weight, and then Millard was screaming in agony and another Savak was there, firing again and again into Millard’s chest and Grant stepped forward and smashed his fist against the large red button on the wall.

The hatchway closed with a bang and suddenly they were all hurled to the floor by a tremendous jerk.

And then Cookie understood: They were in one of the ship’s escape pods. The explosive bolts blew and kicked the pod into space, leaving the London behind.

Chapter 28

Dominion First Attack Force.

At the Entrance to the Cape Breton/Victoria Wormhole

Admiral Mello nodded once to his aide, who keyed the com so that his words would be heard throughout the First Attack Force. His voice was deep and vibrated with pent-up emotion.

“Soldiers and sailors of the Dominion of Unified Citizenry! I salute you! Fifteen years ago the Dominion suffered its first and only defeat, at the hands of the Victorian navy. That loss has been a stain on our honor. Today we regain our honor. The Dominion is the greatest society in all of human space, but for fifteen long years we have been pushed, bullied and taken advantage of by the Victorians. The Victorians beat us at Windsor, but in their blind arrogance they think that because they won one battle, they had defeated the Dominion for all time.

“Today, you and I and everyone in this Attack Force will teach them the error of their ways! In a moment, the entire First Attack Force will cross into Victorian space. Soon we will meet the Second Attack Force, led by Admiral Kaeser. Together, we will attack Victoria, and when we are done, it will no longer be Victorian space, it will be Dominion space!

“This will be the decisive battle! With this one stroke, the Dominion shall rule all of inhabited space. I expect each of you to do his duty! Admiral Mello out.”

Mello swiveled in his chair to face Captain Pattin. “Send the order: First Attack Force to enter Victoria!”

Chapter 29

Leaving the H.M.S. London

In Tilleke Space

The Savak on top of Cookie grabbed her by the throat and began to beat her head against the deck. Cookie clawed at his face, ripping off his helmet. Choking, frantic with the need for air, she jammed stiffened fingers into his eyes, hard. His grip loosened for a second.

“Do something! Grant!” she croaked.

Groaning with the effort, Grant sluggishly pulled himself up, grabbed the Savak around the neck, stuck his pistol in the commando’s ear and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering Grant’s face and chest. He flopped back down on the deck, gasping for air. The Savak collapsed sideways, eyes bulging from the hydrostatic effect of the bullet. Cookie stared at the body, feeling a shock of recognition as she realized he looked identical to the five Bobs she had killed on the London just minutes earlier. Bugger me, how many times do I have to kill you? She heard a noise and looked up.

Grant Skiffington was sitting up against one wall, arms hugging himself. His teeth chattered. His eyes blinked furiously. Cookie crawled to him and put her arms around him. “You are a complete and utter fuck-up, Skiffington, but you did good. Real good.”

Grant tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “I–I don’t know what-”

“Takes some gettin’ used to. No shame in it.” She wearily leaned her head against the bulkhead. For the first time, she thought she truly understood the blood tears tattooed on Sergeant Capezzera’s face.

• • • • •

Thirty minutes later, Grant could see the London receding in the distance. “Look,” he said, pointing. “They turned on the navigation lights. They’re blinking.”

Cookie joined him, leaning over his shoulder to see the video display. “There’s another ship over there with blinking lights.” She adjusted the camera. “But that one over there doesn’t have its nav lights on.”

“Then that’s the one we head to,” Grant said. “According to the sensors, it’s the Yorkshire. Hmmm…a Third Fleet ship. What the hell is it doing over here?” He adjusted the course and goosed the thrusters.

“What’s that?” Cookie asked, and pointed to a shadow sitting several miles from the Yorkshire. “See, something just drifted in front of that star.”

• • • • •

Captain Yossi Gur was unhappy. No, he was pissed off. The Yorkshire was a sitting duck, all alone four hundred miles in front of the confused remnants of the vaunted Second Fleet. Ships were milling around accomplishing nothing much at all. Since their orders from the London, they’d received no other instructions. There was some sparse radio chatter on the net, but mostly nothing. Two other Third Fleet ships, the destroyer Rutland and the cruiser(E) Kent were moving slowly up to take position with him, thank God. For all he could see, they were all that was left of the two Battle Groups of the Third Fleet assigned to this fiasco. Three ships out of forty. He grimaced inwardly, remembering the shock and total confusion after the Sussex blew up. Suddenly ships were being hit all around them, but they couldn’t find anyone to shoot back at. At a total loss for what to do, he had taken the Yorkshire vertical for one thousand miles, which seemed to take it out of the enemy’s kill zone. A few others had escaped as well, but most had become separated, so he had plotted a course to the London, arriving just in time to be ordered to take the van.

His XO, Benny Peled sat down beside him. “Rutland and Kent are both calling in, wanting to know what’s going on.”

“Don’t we all,” Gur replied sourly.

“Captain!” the Com Officer called. “Someone is hailing us through a com laser. Says it is an escape pod off the London. He’s demanding to talk to you, sir.”

Captain Gur frowned. An escape pod? He glanced at the holo display. It showed the London perfectly intact, just four hundred miles away. He gestured irritably to the Com Officer. “Put it on.”

“This is Captain Gur of the H.M.S. Yorkshire,” he said. “State your identity.”

“This is Lieutenant Skiffington, personal aide to Admiral Skiffington of the London,” the voice came back. “I am in an escape pod abut thirty miles from you. I need you to bring me aboard as quickly as you can.”