He worked his way through the vectors, one by one. A pirate would probably take the time to be sure the system was defenseless, although he’d have to light up his active sensors if he wanted to do a proper sensor sweep. A Theocratic warship, on the other hand, would probably come charging in, bombard the planet, and vanish into hyperspace before reinforcements could be dispatched from Ahura Mazda. Or maybe the CO would take the time to work Asher Dales over thoroughly. He probably assumed there was no way the locals could signal for help.
And he’d be right, William conceded. It isn’t as if we have a StarCom in the system.
“Captain,” Patti said, “the planetary government is requesting an update.”
At least they’re using laser links, William told himself as he checked his console. A radio transmission might have warned the intruder that there was more in the system than his passive sensors could detect. Better to let them come in fat and happy.
“Inform them that we are preparing an ambush,” William said. It was true enough, although incomplete. He needed to know more about the intruder before he risked finalizing any plans. “And remind them to keep radio transmissions as limited as possible.”
“Aye, sir.”
William leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax. He had to show a calm face to the crew, even though his emotions were churning inside. They’d conducted drill after drill, during and after the transit, but they’d never faced a real enemy. There would always be something when the shit hit the fan, something the simulations had left out. His lips twitched, again. The emergency, of course. A simulation, no matter how detailed, wasn’t real. The crew knew it wasn’t real too.
The enemy has to come here, he reminded himself again. There’s nowhere else to go.
It felt like hours before the alert pinged. “Captain,” Patti said, “the probes picked up an energy signature, heading towards the planet.”
“Not an advanced cloaking device, then,” William mused. He studied the sensor readings for a long moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The data didn’t prove that the intruder was a Theocratic warship, but the primitive cloaking device was a definite hint. Pirates rarely had cloaking devices. “Can you match the signature to anything in the warbook?”
“Not at this range, sir,” Patti said. “Do you want me to steer the probe closer?”
William shook his head. “Just keep a lock on their position,” he ordered. “And inform me the minute they alter course.”
His lips thinned as he eyed the sensor display. The enemy ship was real, at least. He felt relieved, even though he knew he shouldn’t be too happy. A false alarm would have been embarrassing, but no one would have been injured or killed. The sensor readings suggested that there was only one ship, although he knew better than to take that for granted. A vortex could admit multiple ships into realspace. If there was a second ship, it might have sneaked off in a different direction . . .
Or it might be too close to the first ship for us to differentiate them, William thought. That would be irritating.
He wished, suddenly, for a proper analysis deck. A team of analysts could take a look at the data, sparse as it was, and come up with some proper results. They’d be able to tell if there was more than one ship there; they’d probably even be able to determine precisely what sort of ships were heading towards the planet. But he had to rely on a combination of automatic programs, which he knew had their limits, and his own experience. It looked as though they were facing nothing larger than a destroyer, but he couldn’t be sure. A skillfully handled light cruiser could masquerade as a destroyer until it was far too late for her enemies to avoid contact.
“They’ll be within bombardment range in twenty minutes,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. The enemy ship was picking up speed. It was time. He tapped the alert switch, sounding battlestations throughout the ship, then sat upright. “Communications?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Signal the squadron,” William ordered. “We’ll intercept the intruder here”—he tapped his console, designating a location—“and challenge. Dandelion will take the lead; the remainder of the squadron will remain in stealth until we have confirmation that the intruder is definitely hostile. Our objective will be to capture the intruder, but . . . if we have to destroy her, I’ll understand.”
He looked at the helmsman. “Move us into position.”
“Aye, sir.”
William felt his heart start to race as Dandelion moved to slip into attack position. The plan was not ideal, for all sorts of reasons, but it would have to do. He’d strongly prefer to ambush the enemy ship without warning—his crew had never taken their new ships into combat—yet he couldn’t be entirely sure the ship was unfriendly. A Royal Navy vessel might come sneaking around without permission, perhaps in hopes of ambushing genuine raiders. Hell, a Royal Navy CO might mistake William’s squadron for pirates. The ships had been purchased at Tyre, with all the proper permits, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Navy’s right hand had forgotten to tell the left hand what it was doing. Whoever was sneaking into the system might not know that Asher Dales had purchased the ships.
Particularly when so many ships have been taken out of service, William thought. And when so few liberated systems can afford to buy any ships.
“They’ll enter engagement range in five minutes,” Patti said. “The remainder of the squadron is in position.”
“On my mark, take us out of stealth and broadcast a challenge,” William ordered. “And be ready to raise shields and return fire.”
He tried to put himself in the enemy commander’s shoes. What would he do if he was challenged? He wouldn’t have any IFF codes he could use to bluster his way out of the situation, so . . .
