Alarm of War

Victoria had hard data on where they were at all times. Admiral Teehan used to joke that he knew more about the whereabouts of the Duck fleet than he did that of his own teenaged children.

Still, he was looking at two conflicting facts. First, the Dominion only had one hundred war ships. Second, while all of those war ships were accounted for, Victoria was attacked by one hundred sixty additional DUC war ships.

There were only three options. Perhaps some other Sector had given the DUC the new war ships. Unlikely, since none of the other Sectors had much of a navy. Second, the clumsy, inefficient, bureaucratic Dominion had secretly built a second ship yard somewhere and had kept it hidden from the probing eyes of Victoria while they built a fleet to rival that of Victoria herself. Third…

Hiram turned to the figure working at the desk next to his. “Sir Henry?”

Sir Henry looked up in mild irritation.

“Sir Henry, am I dreaming?” Hiram asked.

“Lieutenant,” the older man said darkly. “I think the Fleet frowns on its officers drinking while on duty. I know I do.”

“The Dominion has one hundred and sixty ships more than we thought they did,” Hiram mused aloud. “Either I’m dreaming and this is the worst nightmare of my life, or the DUC somehow managed to build a very large space yard somewhere and then built an entire fleet without us even getting a sniff of it. Is that possible?”

Sir Henry smiled thinly and peered at Hiram over his half spectacles. “Young man, one of the many advantages the old have over the young is that we are no longer astonished when we see a cockup of monumental proportions. So, you ask: Could the bumbling, clownish Dominion have outsmarted our vaunted Fleet Intelligence? Damn straight they did. How did they do it? For the moment, that is immaterial. We have more pressing needs, such as surviving the next twenty four hours. I commend your attention and focus to those needs, Lieutenant, instead of indulging yourself in a goose chase.” He turned back to his computer screen.

“And if we do make it to Refuge, what then?” Hiram asked softly.

“Then, my young friend, we shall turn around and come out of Refuge as soon as we have repaired the Home Fleet.” His voice rose. “We will make the Dominion’s lives a torment. We shall probe and harass and annoy and when we are ready, we shall attack. We shall attack their outposts, attack their supply ships, attack their patrols and keep on attacking anywhere they are weak and we are strong. And when we are strong enough, we shall take the battle to their home world and kill them once and forever, so that for all time the name ‘Dominion’ will be nothing more than a foul curse to be muttered in the dark.” Sir Henry turned again to face Hiram squarely. “And once we’ve done that, no other Sector will ever dare to attack us again. And then, and only then, we shall rest and mourn our dead.”

Hiram was impressed, despite himself. “The Queen said you could be ruthless,” he said in real admiration.

Sir Henry snorted and turned back to his computer display. “Young man, you have no idea.”

Chapter 61

H.M.S. Yorkshire, in Victorian Space

Hunting for Space Station Atlas

“Contact! Contact dead ahead of us,” Livy Wexler shouted. “Merlin shows her as a Home Fleet ship, the New Zealand, a missile cruiser under the command of Captain Julie Grey. She’s moving slowly and no attempt at stealth. No signs of any other ships. She’ll be within missile range in fifteen minutes at current speed.”

“Battle stations!” Grant Skiffington ordered. “Kill the propulsion drive; we’ll coast in on her from here. Merlin, C2C the Galway and Kent and tell them to be ready. I will make the challenge as soon as we get a firm lock on her.”

He stood up to better study the primary holo display. Gods of Our Mothers, he hoped the New Zealand was still in Victorian hands, it would be so good to be home. Maybe they’d even have food.

Intent on their prey, neither the Yorkshire, Galway nor Kent saw the small reconnaissance drone a thousand miles below them.

On the New Zealand, Tobias Partridge swallowed hard and rechecked his sensors display. He was getting a signal from the rear reconnaissance drone, which was running on passive sensors. The computer projected a symbol for an unknown object trailing about thirty thousand miles behind them. The symbol flickered out, then came back, stuttered, and faded again. He examined the raw data inputs from the drone. There was no drive signature. No radio signals. No S-band targeting sensors either, he was relieved to see. He switched to infrared, and then caught his breath in a hiss. There, along the center of the object’s surface, was an unmistakable white and red glow. Whatever it was, it was generating heat. One more thing to try. He switched the camera to optical and zoomed in. The object had no lights showing, but it crossed a patch of brightly glowing stars, so that it was briefly silhouetted against them. The object was long and cylindrical, with a distinct hammerhead bow, just like the New Zealand’s. It was the shape of a missile cruiser. He took a deep breath.

“Um…Captain, someone’s creeping up on us.” He said it so apologetically that at first Emily wanted to laugh, but then Alex Rudd pushed him aside and boosted the gain on the sensors.

“Darn,” Rudd said mildly. “Can’t get a good fix on it, but it’s there all right. He frowned, fiddling with the controls, trying to make sense of the data. “And I think there is more than one of them.”

“Dominion?” Emily asked, even though she thought it was obvious. Who else would it be?

Rudd chewed his lip. “Not sure. Readings look like a Victorian cruiser, but that doesn’t make any sense. Whoever they are, they are gradually catching up to us, but just coasting. No propulsion traces at all.” He looked up at her. “Looks like they’re creeping in for a shot, Emily.”

“Merlin, tag it as ‘Bogie One,’ and C2C the rest of the squadron and tell them to use bow thrusters to brake. I want them to drift backwards as Bogie One overtakes us so that we will envelop him as he comes forward. Passive sensors only. Have all laser batteries ready to fire on my order. We’ll feed targeting data to all ships.”

“Message has been sent,” Merlin replied.

“Okay then,” Emily said, crossing her legs and leaning back in the Captains’ chair. Her right hand was trembling again, so she tucked it under her and sat on it. “Now we wait.”

Grant Skiffington watched as the Yorkshire slowly overtook the New Zealand. What was she doing out here, anyway? There was still no sign of the Dominion Fleet that must have attacked Cornwall. Was the New Zealand scouting? Returning from a combat patrol? Or had it fallen into Dominion hands and even now was moving to attack some Victorian war ship? He shook his head in frustration; there was so much he didn’t know. He checked his holo display. The Kent and Galway were keeping station two hundred miles on either side and slightly behind him.

“Already within laser range and twenty seconds to missile range,” Liv Wexler told him. Grant nodded. “C2C the others, tell them I’ll challenge the New Zealand in thirty seconds.”

The seconds ticked by. The red indicator flashed to show a missile lock. Grant took a breath.

“Victorian ship New Zealand, we have you locked in. You have ten seconds to answer this question or we’ll shoot you: Pretend you are a frigate captain. You spot game. What do you do and what was the name of the professor who told you? Ten seconds!”

On the New Zealand, Emily looked at the speakers, thunderstruck. No bloody way, she thought to herself. “Merlin, play that back,” she ordered, and listened carefully.

Grant Skiffington watched the chronometer tick down. Three seconds left. Dammit! Resigned, he turned to his Weapons Officer. Then the com speakers crackled.