Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (45 page)

“Admiral!” Captain Renee
called out to his superior.

“What now?” her question
was filled with annoyance.

“We’re
being hailed by the captain of a Martian cruiser—the
Mir
!” informed
Renee.

Selena became amused as
well as curious. Her face broke into a sly smile. “Put him
on.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Renee was
quick to comply. With the wave of his hand, a floating silver globe
that was the command and control computer activated the ship’s
communications network.

“Mir
, this is Admiral Darius of
the
Quinton
,”
Selena stated, “and to whom am I speaking with?”

A small chuckle came over
the loudspeaker. “Why, it’s your old shipmate,” the familiar voice
announced, “Commander Vincent Trager!”

Selena’s calm demeanor was
transformed instantly into a crazed look. “Trager, you turncoat,
when I find you I’ll have your innards ripped out!” she promised
hatefully.

“Now, now, Selena, let’s
not get rude. I just wanted a little chat with you,” Trager was
pleasant.

“What do you want?” Selena
nearly frothed at the mouth.

Trager paused for a
moment. “Well, the Martians were wondering if you were coming to
visit them—before they leave this system in three hours for
Valamars,” Vincent lied. “They’re most interested in blasting your
fleet of cutthroats to particles. There’s something about the mass
murder of helpless men, women, and children that really irritates
them. But I did defend you, though. I told them that was your
style—and what else could they expect from the coward who ran away
from the Arris!”

Selena’s blood and
hydraulic fluid began to boil. “I hate you!”

“Not as much as I hate
you!” Trager’s true feelings showed. “And if you’re looking for
help from Damon and his bunch, the majority of them are now
shoveling coal in hell!”

There was a moment of
silent between the two adversaries. Their mutual hostility engulfed
the very fibers of space, while the tension between the two was
wound as tight as a spring. Finally, Trager cut to the chase and
broke the stress with a challenge.

“Selena, you have two choices!”
Trager dared the cyborg. “You can sit there
and rot
—or you can come across the
asteroid field and meet us in battle!”

Selena snickered. “And if
choose to sit?”

Trager’s voice began to relax. “Then we’ll
leave—peacefully, quietly—but not before we inform Earth Command of
your decision!” Vincent was blunt and sarcastic. “Tell me, what do
you think that will do for your promotion and career?”

Selena refused to answer as
her features tightened at the attempt of coercion.

“You have three hours,
Selena. No more,” Vincent threatened. “Trager, out.”

Captain Renee stood shocked
as he listened to the entire conversation. If the Martians
disappeared, he too might be held accountable for their escape. He
then visualized the unimaginable wrath it would bring from the
Earth High Command. There seemed to be no alternative, but to
advance. However, Selena went back to being unconcerned.

“Admiral,” Renee addressed,
“what are we going to do?”

Selena’s placid behavior
quickly returned as though nothing had happened. “We’re going to
sit here for ten minutes, and pretend we’re angry and confused.
Then we’re going to move the fleet forward—just like the Martians
want us to do.”

“And then what?” Renee
asked, unsure of his superior’s plans.

“And then we’re going to
kill every one of them!” a sneer bent Selena’s lips as her hate of
Trager returned. “Contact O’Donald, have him gather a small force
of cruisers and destroyers. He is to wait several minutes after the
main body of the fleet departs. He is then to circle to starboard,
keeping as low a profile to the asteroid field as possible. Once we
are engaged with the Martians, I will signal him to strike them
from their flank and their rear. We’ll then crush them in between
us. Any questions?”

A smile returned to Renee’s
face. “No, Admiral, none what so ever!” he approved.

* * * * *

As the Earth fleet divided
into two divisions and sailed swiftly into the vast asteroid field,
a solitary figure watched from his forlorn observation post that
floated well above the barrier of ice and stone. The tattered and
smashed remains of a Martian Marine boarding pod still provided the
man with some protection, regardless that it was thoroughly shot-up
and breached in several places. Adding to this, most of its
equipment systems were either inoperable or demolished. Yet, like
the man, the craft still survived.

The eyes of the lone marine
followed the Earth ships’ progress until they disappeared into the
sea of rocks that stretched to the horizon. He then turned to a
battery-powered transceiver and switched it on.

“Goat-Screw to Right Guard!
Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Do you copy?” the sad and weakening
voice prattled into his helmet’s microphone. “Enemy fleet on the
move! Repeat, enemy fleet on the move! Two divisions! Larger force
coming straight across; second smaller force circling from
starboard! Do you copy, Right Guard?”

Gagarin paused to look
about the pod’s darkened interior once more. Part of him refused to
acknowledge the fate of his marines, but there was no denying it;
his entire squad lay dead, scattered about the pod. Some were so
horribly mangled from the glancing impact of the asteroid and other
debris that he could not tell who they were. Others died from
raking the pod took from the plasma fire. It was a vision of
incomprehensible horror.

Stephan’s face was sticky
from the dried tears that covered his cheeks—and he felt so
drained. Still a spark of duty persisted in his soul, a duty that
had to be performed—before he joined his friends in
death.

“Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Goat-Screw to Right
Guard! Do you copy?” the marine repeated once more. “I say again!
“Enemy fleet on the move! Enemy fleet on the move! Two divisions!
Larger force coming straight on; second smaller force circling from
starboard! Do you copy, Right Guard? Do you copy?”

* * * * *

Chapter 25:
Showdown

The Martian fleet
assembled into a staggered wall formation as it prepared for
battle. Although this type of pattern played well for safety
concerns of not having any ship above or below another should one
be destroyed in a flash of incendiary death, the formation held
three other significant military purposes.

The first was to grant more
mobility to the smaller fleet. Unlike the Earth flotilla, which
required all ships to be packed closely together in order to use
their matrix weapon, the Martians were free to rein at will to
either attack or evade.

The second reason was to
confront the Earth formation in its entirety. This was to ensure
maximum loss of the Earthers’ assets, while denying the Earth
armada any maneuver or escape.

The final reason, however,
was the most crucial. It was not only to mask Wakinyan’s true
intentions, but also to mislead the Earthers into making a major
tactical blunder. But this was all guesswork on Wakinyan’s
part.

Stretching close to the
full length of the Earth fleet’s assumed battle formation, the lack
of numbers was telling upon the Martian forces. Only two complete
rows were filled. A partial third row steadied the Martian
formation at the center, where it could be quickly sent to bolster
any faltering part of the line.

The ships that made up the
majority of vessels were space destroyers. Strategically placed at
intervals, however, were the great Martian battle cruisers. With
their designated fields of overlapping fire, maximum devastation
was guaranteed to be brought upon the enemy formation as they
closed in.

Behind the warships, Tara’s
taskforce of freighters and supply vessels were busy laying a
carpet of space mines just above the asteroids. Hidden deliberately
from any Earth sensors by pre-set electronic signal patterns, the
cloaking powers of the distortion field generators of the Martian
warships made the mines virtually invisible. This was easy since
the minefield was also as long as the naval formation. Similarly,
the mines were also staggered, but horizontally.

The
formation of mines was three times the length of the
Quinton
. It needed to be
this depth in order to counter the Earthers’ battle matrix system,
but that was only part of the mission the high explosives were to
play in the coming battle. The plan, however, required every mine
the Martians had.

The
Ariana
appeared out of hyperspace with her final load of mines. The
ship, however, was saving these munitions for another purpose.
Instead, the vessel quickly traversed the minefield for inspection
of its defensive layout.

With the ship’s scanners, a newly commissioned
squadron leader, Captain Tara Nargis of the Martian fleet carefully
scrutinized the handiwork of her smaller taskforce. All was in
order and ready as the last of the preparations were made.

It was a shocking change
for Tara, who was not use to such responsibility or the protocol of
the military. Wakinyan, however, thought the woman more than
capable, and placed her in charge of the mine laying. To her own
amazement, she was learning fast.

Tara, along with all of
the other mutant officers, was formally inducted into the Martian
fleet itself right after the conference. Wakinyan meant to keep his
promise to them and this was his way of doing it. By the order of
the fleet commander, all became Martian Mariners. Her crew, which
now consisted of both Martians and mutants, were all to be seen as
the Martian fleet. Furthermore by her new rank, she was not only in
command of the mutant freighters, but also the Martian fleet’s
supply ships as well. Additionally, this taskforce was to be an
active participant in the battle itself.

Tara stood restlessly
breathing the recycled air of her space suit. As her freighter
traversed mile after mile over the minefield, she thoroughly
analyzed the arrangement with the ship’s sensors.

Although the floating
explosives were expertly placed according to Wakinyan’s
instructions, something was not right. It drifted in and out of
Tara’s thoughts, becoming more than an annoyance. All of a sudden,
it was transformed with great clarity into a biting fear that
touched her mind in both pain and premonition. It was as though an
invisible knife had suddenly stabbed her in a hard stroke. The
woman shook and trembled from its terrible blow, nearly falling to
the deck. Nausea taunted her stomach in waves. As it finally
relented, she realized its significance. Her heart pounded
furiously faster.

The omen was surrounded by
the unmistakable taint of death, and it terrified Tara greatly. She
knew such dread once before—and was powerless to stop it. The omen
did not come alone, however. A blinding ray pierced its darkness,
adding a promise of hope. A means filled her cargo bay that could
unravel the prophecy of doom, but it required the bravery and the
will to use it. Facing the consequences of the unknown was its
price, however. It was a momentous decision placed in the woman’s
hands—but it only took a moment for her to decide.

Tara quickly turned to her
second in command. “Martin,” she called out in a mental request,
not wanting anyone else to hear.

Her friend, Lieutenant
Martin Pearl, swiveled his head in response to Tara’s summons,
which came in pleaded urgency. Immediately dropping his appointed
labors, he swiftly paced to her side at the beckoning.

“We’re not going to dump all our mines in
the attack,” Tara with her thoughts informed the officer of her
decision. “I want you to keep twenty of them in reserve. They’ll be
armed with the others, but they won’t be deployed until I say
so.”

Martin, however, was unsure
of her decision. “Tara, if we take a hit, they might go off! I
wouldn’t advise it,” he spoke his opinion bluntly, but with
respect.

“Please?” Tara appealed to
her friend.

From the look on Tara’s
face, it was evident she knew something he didn’t, and this he was
not about to question. Instead, Martin gave the women a gentle
smile and a touch of his hand—and then made it so.

* * * * *

Tara was
not the only one vexed by fear. As Wakinyan gazed through his space
helmet’s visor at the
Crazy Horse’s
main viewer, his mind went into a light trance.
His eyes were fixated on the two enemy divisions of ships slowly
converging on the Martian fleet’s position. The main battle fleet
was coming straight on, while the smaller force was stealthily
circling slowly. Martian patrol ships placed strategically high
above the asteroid field monitored the smaller armada with no
trouble, even though the enemy vessels remained totally obscured by
the stony horizon from the Martian warships. The patrol vessels
watched with a bird’s eye view of the enemy’s progress. It made
tracking them with passive scanners easy. Their valuable
information was then fed directly back to the Martian
fleet.