Alarm of War

under fire.

One piece of torn hull spun up into the missile pods and sliced through the fire control cables, with the result that the remaining seven missiles never fired.

The remaining missile sped past the anchored New Zealand and on toward the battleship Lionheart. Bofor guns swiveled desperately and fired as it raced by. Of the thousands upon thousands of rounds fired, one punctured its engine compartment. It was enough. The missile began to wobble. It lost its lock on the Lionheart, then regained it, then lost it again and strayed slightly off course. As it passed the Lionheart its proximity fuse saw its target and exploded, but instead of a contact explosion, the missile exploded thirty miles away. A wave of roiling heat and radiation passed over the Lionheart, frying dozens of its electronic systems but leaving its heavily armored hull intact.

A thousand miles away, the Blue Heron finished its preparations. “All missiles away!” shouted the Weapons Officer. His cry was echoed on the Blue Loon. Their missiles sped a scant two hundred miles and exploded in one massive paroxysm of heat and radiation on top of the H.M.S. Isle of Man and Invincible.

Both ships shuddered, then vanished in gout of furious light. There was not even time for the Omega drones to launch. Two of the three Home Fleet battleships were gone.

On Atlas Station, the Sensors Officer in the FIC turned wide-eyed to Hiram.

“Lieutenant! Sensors detect multiple missile launches! Isle of Man and Invincible have been destroyed!” She paused. “Lieutenant?”

“Hmmm?” Hiram wasn’t listening. He was mulling over everything he’d learned in the last nine months, and in particular the last nine minutes.

Victoria had been suckered. The entire Tilleke campaign against Arcadia had been a ruse to lure the Second Fleet into an ambush. A frighteningly effective ambush, if the Bawdy Bertha was to be believed. And key to the ambush was the fact that the Dominion forces were part of the attack, which meant that the Tilleke and Dominion had been working together for over a year, and Victorian Intelligence had never suspected a thing.

And then another thought jarred him: Was Cookie still alive? Hot tears pricked his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a sudden, vivid picture of the last time they made love together, her face softened in the aftermath of climax, fingers caressing his cheek. “You always treat me like I’m made of delicate china.”

“Do you mind?” he had asked.

She sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him close once more. “Just don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

With a conscious effort, Hiram shook himself out of the memory. The Sensors Officer was still staring at him anxiously. Two of Home Fleet’s three battleships were gone. But why? Why attack Home Fleet? With Second Fleet destroyed, it opened the way to attack Victoria itself. But they couldn’t attack Victoria with a few freighters tricked out with missiles. So-

Hiram spun in his chair. ““Gandalf!”

The Station’s AI rumbled. “At your command.”

“Gandalf, review all records of Port Authority Space Buoys at or near worm holes from any sector leading into Victoria for the last four days. Tell me if there are any large convoys of ships that entered Victorian space.”

Gandalf paused for a moment, then the primary holo display flickered as it received the data. “There are four large convoys. One is from the Sultenic Empire, consisting of six ore freighters, carrying a cargo of grain. A second from Refuge with eight ships, unknown cargo. A third from Cape Breton with eighty ships, carrying a cargo of grain. The last is from the Dominion of Unified Citizenry, seventy ships, with the cargo listed as steel and high explosives.”

“ETA on the convoys from Cape Breton and Dominion?”

“Each should arrive in approximately twenty four hours.”

Hiram felt the color drain out of his face. One hundred and fifty ships against the Home Fleet’s sixty. No, only fifty eight now.

Victoria had just lost the war it hadn’t even known it was in.

“Gandalf, where is the First Sea Lord?”

“First Sea Lord Giunta and his staff are meeting with the Queen and senior admiralty at the Palace.”

The two missiles from the Star Born coasted down the long glide path toward the Biscay Cargo Port, flying lazily to maintain the illusion that they were innocent freighters instead of nuclear tipped weapons of mass destruction. They flew over the ocean, then crossed onto land and banked slightly to the north in a heading that kept them in the shipping lane. Two minutes later they were within one hundred miles of the Port, close enough so that the Port sensors would wonder why the radar reflection was so small for two freighters, even for tramp freighters.

Then they turned sharply and dove to two hundred feet off the ground. Twenty miles away, the Palace sat brilliantly lit under a glowing summer sun. The missiles accelerated, separated until they were half a mile apart, and sped on. A mile from the Palace, one climbed to two thousand feet while the other stayed low.

They both exploded simultaneously.

When the dust and firestorm finally settled four hours later, there was no trace of the Palace or its inhabitants.

Chapter 40

Victorian Space

H.M.S. New Zealand

The comm screen came alive with an emergency override message from H.M.S. Lionheart.

“New Zealand, this is Captain Eder of the Lionheart. What in Christ’s name is going on?” he asked angrily.

“You were attacked by a Dominion freighter,” Emily answered with difficulty. “We destroyed the freighter, but not before it launched one missile. We managed to knock it off course.” She felt utterly spent. As soon as it was clear that the missile had missed, the adrenalin roiling in her bloodstream made her tremble so violently that she had to sit down. Chief Gibson glanced at her solicitously, but she waived him back.

Captain Eder gaped at her. “You destroyed a Dominion freighter!”

“It was either that or let it destroy you, Captain!” Emily snapped.

Eder’s face flushed scarlet. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Emily drew herself up. “I am Second Lieutenant Emily Tuttle, temporarily in command of the New Zealand.”

Eder’s jaw worked. “And you fired on a Dominion ship?”

Emily worked her own jaw. “Captain, I don’t think you understand. It fired on you.”

“Where is Captain Grey?” he asked icily.

“Captain Grey is on Atlas.”

“Well, dammit, I’m pretty sure that she didn’t leave a Second Lieutenant in charge of a Victorian missile cruiser, so where is your superior officer?”

On the screen Emily could see an aide take Captain Eder’s elbow and thrust a report slate into his hand. Eder glanced at it irritably, looked back at Emily, but then his eyes darted back to the report.

“My superior officer is Senior Lieutenant Bishop.” She paused, then plunged on. “I had him arrested for dereliction of duty when he refused to fire on the Dominion vessel.”