Alarm of War

had sixty high speed Gatling guns that shot one thousand rounds of spent Ziridium per minute, and forty one-inch lasers.

Mello had ten Hedgehogs in his Attack Force, and all of them were now in the front line to protect his frigates and destroyers.

Of the three hundred and twenty missiles fired by the Victorian missile pods, twenty three reached their targets.

“Look for ships moving away!” Mello thundered. “There should be control ships out there trying to escape.”

“Two ships,” the Sensors Officer confirmed. “Turning and accelerating rapidly.”

“All line ships to fire. I want them dead,” Mello said.

And a minute later, they were. Every Dominion destroyer and frigate in the front line flushed its missiles at them in an orgy of revenge. The fleeing Victorians were overwhelmed.

“That is the way you meet the enemy,” Mello said in satisfaction. Behind him, Commander Pattin grimaced. The exchange had been even: as the fleet surged onward, it left behind two broken hulks and had another damaged destroyer struggling to keep up.

Several minutes later they hit the antimatter mines, took damage to another ship, and continued in pursuit of the Victorians.

Aboard the H.M.S. Lionheart, Admiral Douthat watched the holo display intently. She cursed silently as the Dundee and Melbourne icons flashed Code Omega, then watched the DUC force close to where the anti-matter mines were. The explosion of the mines distorted the senor display. It took a minute or so for the display to clear.

“Mickey,” she asked the Sensors Officer. “When they hit the mines, did they turn?”

“Yes, Admiral. They turned up, shot out the rest of the mines, then dropped down and resumed course.”

Douthat nodded. “Merlin! Take a note. When confronted with mines, the Dominion fleet turned up. Monitor similar incidents and watch for a pattern.”

Chapter 55

H.M.S. New Zealand, hunting for supply ships behind the Dominion fleet

Captain Julie Grey’s Battle Group coasted ghostlike behind the Dominions, desperately trying to locate the Dominion supply ships. People spoke in whispers and subconsciously tried not to make noise. They knew no one could possibly hear them, but they couldn’t help themselves; they’re survival depended on them not being detected.

Emily knew the mission poised on the razor edge of chance. If they located the Dominion supply ships before they themselves were discovered, they would attack and leave the Dominion attack fleet with empty magazines and no choice but to retreat. But if the Ducks discovered them hiding, then they would have to run or fight for their lives. Either way, it would soon be ship against ship, each side trying to annihilate the other, killing men and women they did not know and would never see.

Emily had to marvel at the terrible beauty of it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” It was Captain Grey, sipping a mug of tea, looking tired.

Emily smiled. “I was just thinking how this little skirmish might determine the entire outcome of the battle, or the fate of Victoria, all of it.” She frowned. “Part of me is horrified at the risk, part of me can’t wait to see how it comes out.”

Grey smiled wanly. “The combat leader’s dark little secret. Welcome to the world of the professional soldier, Emily.”

For hours, Admiral Douthat harassed the Dominion’s right flank, which had the greatest concentration of destroyers and frigates. She dropped in mines, missile pods and used her own destroyers for sudden slashing attacks.

The Dominion responded with a torrent of missiles, shooting at anything within range. Finally, two of the Dominion frigates — the ships with the smallest magazine capacity — signaled Admiral Mello’s flagship.

“Admiral, two of the frigates request permission to fall back in order to rearm with missiles from the colliers.”

Admiral Mello looked up from the holo display, clearly preoccupied. “What?”

“Two of the frigates have run dry, sir. They want permission to go to the back of the fleet to rearm with the colliers.”

Mello nodded his assent and turned back to the holo display. No one saw his smile.

On the H.M.S. New Zealand, Alex Rudd was monitoring both the tactical display and the sensors, ignoring the angry glare of the Sensors’ Officer.

“Tallyho,” Rudd said softly. “Two Duck frigates coming in past reconnaissance drone Number Seven.

“Fuel status on Number Seven?” Captain Grey asked.

“More than half, Ma-am. She’s good for up to eight hours.”

“Okay, once the DUC go past her, put her in behind them, say, oh, three hundred miles. Passive sensors only, and video. Bring her up to match speed slowly, Alex, then kill the propulsion and let her coast behind them. I do not want to spook our feathered friends.”

The reconnaissance drone followed the two Dominion war ships for another ninety minutes, reporting back that they finally stopped and were joined by three other ships. The three new ships showed only low propulsion signatures. No radio signals were detected.

“There they are,” Grey breathed reverently. She turned to Emily. “You’re plan is working, Lieutenant.”

Emily frowned. Bogey One had something like eighty five ships, or close to four Victorian Battle Groups. A Victorian force that large would have had at least six supply ships, and maybe as many as eight.

“There should be more supply ships than this, Captain,” she said. There should be another three at least, maybe five.”

“You may be right, Emily, but I’ll take what I can get.” Grey raised her voice. “Merlin!”

The ship’s computer responded immediately. “Yes, Captain Grey?”

“We’re attacking. Change to Max.”

The bridge crew exchanged apprehensive glances.

There was a pause, then the ship’s computer came back, but its voice was stronger, rougher. “Orders? Who shall I attack?”

Emily couldn’t explain how, but the “Max” persona reeked of restrained violence. Max had been the brainchild of the Fleet’s psychological warfare experts, who had tweaked the software so that Max would default to the most aggressive option whenever it had to make a tactical decision. The shrinks also figured that if the ship’s computer sounded more like a blood thirsty warrior, it would imbue a more aggressive spirit into the ship’s deck crew, including the captain. Fleet war games had confirmed this, although dissenting Fleet psychologists had noted that one unforeseen side effect was that sometimes the captains using Max fought long after they should have cut and run, saving their ships to fight on more advantageous terms another day. The net result was that ships using Max inflicted more damage on the enemy, but died at a higher rate as well.

Gradually an informal protocol had developed: Captains used Max only in situations where they thought they might have to fight to the death, and were determined to do as much damage as they could before they were killed.

If Emily had had any doubts about how desperate their mission was, they were instantly dispelled.

Powered down, as stealthy as they could be, the Coldstream Guards coasted in on their targets. The Number Seven reconnaissance drone kept up its visual record, and they watched as the first of the Dominion frigates sided up to a collier, followed shortly by the second.

“Solid fix for the lasers, Captain. Just reaching outer edge of missile range now,” Emily reported.