Alarm of War

“And when shall we arrive, Admiral?”

Douthat glanced at Peter Murphy and nodded. Murphy cleared his throat nervously. Like the others, he was going with too little sleep, too little food and too much anxiety. But with the possible exception of Sir Henry, Murphy was the oldest person in the room, and it showed. His skin was grey, his cheeks sunken and his eyes red. Hiram noticed a nervous tick by Murphy’s left eye that had not been there before.

“We should hit the worm hole in forty seven hours and — ” he checked his tablet — “ten minutes. We are making better speed than we had originally estimated. We’ve had about one hundred tug boat failures, with over- stressed tractor beam generators, but we’ve been able to swap them out from stores on Atlas. So we’re making good speed.”

“That’s wonderful, Captain!” the Queen said, but then faltered as she took in the somber faces around her. She looked from Murphy to Admiral Douthat, then back to Murphy. “Perhaps it would be best if you just tell me what the problem is, Mr. Murphy?”

“Well, Majesty,” Murphy began, then restarted. “The thing of it is, Majesty, we’re pulling the Atlas in a straight line. She’s big, really big, and it’s very hard for us to alter course…if we have to, I mean.” His voice trailed off.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” Queen Anne snapped.

Hiram sighed and put his tablet down. “The worm hole into Refuge moves, Majesty. It changes location often, perhaps several times a month. Sometimes as much as a thousand miles per day, other days not at all. The orientation of the entrance is always the same, thank God, but from the perspective of our plane of advance, the worm hole can move left or right by a considerable distance with very little warning.”

Anne digested this for a moment. “And if moves?”

Murphy jumped back in. “We can make course corrections up to twenty four hours out, but once we’re inside of twenty four hours, if it moves very much left or right, we won’t be able to change course fast enough to hit it.”

“We could save the ships in this eventuality, but the Atlas would overshoot the worm hole,” Admiral Douthat said.

“And if Atlas overshoots the worm hole?” the Queen asked.

Murphy shrugged. “There’s no way to turn her around if we overshoot,” he said matter-of-factly. “She’s too big to turn around in less than a month.” He tried a tired grin. “We’re on course right now, Majesty. If the worm hole doesn’t jig on us, we’ll hit it dead center. But if it moves, well…”

Anne turned back to Admiral Douthat and Captain Eder. “And the Dominion? Can we withstand another attack with so few ships?”

The fatigue in the admiral’s face seemed to burn away for a moment and she grinned wolfishly. “They may have more ships, Majesty, but we may have more actual ‘throw weight.’ The Atlas has several hundred missile pods and mines, and it’s building more even as we speak. We’re slaving the missile pods to all of our capital ships and even to the tug boats. No matter which way the Dominion comes at us, we can make it very hot for them.”

“That’s the importance of killing the Dominion Hedgehogs, Majesty,” Sir Henry spoke for the first time. “Without the Hedgehogs, our missile penetration will be significantly more successful.”

This is hope of Victoria, Queen Anne thought: Thirty five ships, a space station and a handful of very determined people who won’t give in to despair.

“Thank you, Admiral, and you as well, Captain Eder. And you, Captain Murphy. If we must face desperate times, I am grateful that we face it together.” When Douthat, Eder and Murphy had gone, the Queen leaned back into her chair with a sigh. “And you, Mr. Brill? You seemed rather quiet through this. Do you disagree with this course of action?”

Hiram reluctantly put down his tablet. “I was the one who originally suggested it, Majesty. We don’t have any choice.”

Queen Anne considered it for a moment. “And the Dominion? What will they do now?”

Hiram shrugged. “We’re two days from reaching Refuge. They cannot let Atlas — and you, Majesty — escape. The Dominion will join Bogey One and Two into one large attack force and throw everything they have against us.”

“And if we reach Refuge, will be safe then?”

“There is a risk that the Dominion will follow us into Refuge, but if it does, then it will have to deal with the Refuge navy as well. Refuge honors its debts.”

Hiram’s tablet beeped then. He read it quickly, frowning. “Sensors have picked up Victorian ships approaching us from the left flank.” He took a breath. “Looks like it’s the Coldstream Guard, returning from the attack on the supply ships.” He looked away. “There’s only two of them.”

Chapter 59

On the H.M.S. Yorkshire

Entering Victorian Space

The H.M.S. Yorkshire gingerly led the Kent and the Galway into Victorian space. Each of them had their navigation lights blinking, each proceeded at a moderate pace, and each had a crew that was holding their collective breaths.

The first thing Grant Skiffington saw was a swarm of smaller construction vessels busily assembling an enormous structure that bristled with gun ports and missile launchers.

“What is that thing?” Grant exclaimed.

Livy Wexler, his Sensors Officer, studied her passive sensors data. “Unless I miss my guess, skipper, they are assembling a fort.”

Grant thought about that for a minute. The depth of the planning behind the attack was unnerving, to say the least. The Dominions knew that at least some ships from the Second Fleet would survive the ambush, and this fort was intended to block their return from Tilleke space.

Then the other shoe dropped and he swore viciously. The Dominion were in Victorian space, assembling a fort at a major worm hole entrance, and there were no ships from the Home Fleet trying to stop them.

“Livy, are sensors picking up any Victorian war ships?”

Livy shook her head. “Only the ones that we have tagged as being taken by the Tilleke commandos.”

“And where are they heading?”

“For Cornwall, but still just poking along, not in any hurry.” She smiled at him then, a warm, intimate smile that triggered vivid memories of the night before. After that first time, Cookie had not slept with Grant again, and seemed to be avoiding him. He half hoped she had found someone else. The unbearable tension they all lived under had resulted in quick, intense pairings throughout the ship, as everyone sought comfort and release as best they could. Livy had simply knocked softly on his cabin door three nights earlier and, when he opened it, had walked in without a word. He could have told her to leave…but he didn’t.

He rubbed his chin, considering what to do next. Strung out in a long line in front of them were fifteen Victorian war ships manned by Tilleke commandos. Apparently their instructions were to assemble at Cornwall, and if that was the case it meant Cornwall was already in enemy hands. Could that be true? It seemed outlandish. But then he remembered the relative ease with which the Dominion and Tilleke forces had annihilated the Second and Third Fleets, and thought again about the planning and confidence behind the decision to assemble a fort at the Victorian-Gilead worm hole.

How could he find out what had happened to Cornwall? For a self-indulgent moment he wished desperately that Captain Gur had survived or that Benny Peled was not in a coma. He needed somebody to talk to. And then he remembered that he did have someone.

He connected to Lisa Stein on the Kent and Andy Richter on the Galway, and quickly explained what he wanted to do.