Dominion (39 page)

At least the
Revenge
's systems could help them with these two, and Steven soon had details of their crew, weaponry, and defenses. He wasn't concerned about the transporter. At best, its attack and defense capabilities would be minimal. Transporters weren't designed for a fight. In fact, because of the Illyri's presumed superiority to any other species in the universe, very few of its ships had, until recently, been battle-ready. Even destroyers, despite their name, were typically underequipped for a stand-up fight with another vessel of similar size. The civil war had changed that, and the escort convoy they'd encountered on the way to Krasis had clearly been retrofitted for battle. But only the more advanced Corps ships, such as those used to attack Melos Station and other Military targets at the start of the war, and of which the
Revenge
and
Marauder
were examples, were really fully fledged combat vessels.

Unfortunately, the
Satia
was one of them too. Steven became worried as its specifications were revealed to him. It was worth half a dozen cruisers like his own. The
Iria
was less of a threat, but it was only a generation behind the
Satia
, and had obviously been designed by the Corps with one eye on the possibility of war with the Military, for it was a significant fighting vessel. They had one Cayth torpedo left, and after that they'd be relying on conventional weapons. The
Satia
would be the main target, but the
Iria
would have to be dealt with before they could get close to it. He wasn't sure that using Alis as the public face of their approach would work on this occasion, not with the earth reduced to a secret breeding ground for the Others.

They had some time to prepare, though. It would be days before they reached Earth, and even with the relays, it would take about two hours for any transmission from the orbiting craft to reach them. Steven handed over control of the
Revenge
to one of the newly acquired Brigade pilots, and, accompanied by Alis and Hague, went to his cabin to open a secure channel with Rizzo.

•  •  •

The first communication reached them exactly two hours and seven minutes later. It came from the
Iria
, and was bad news from the start. To begin with, it identified both the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
by their former names, the
Gradus
and the
Ilfen
, and demanded confirmation of mission from their respective captains, Waltere and Sulus. Neither of them was likely to be answering such calls anytime soon, Waltere having been scoured from the
Gradus
by Cayth technology, and Sulus being among the dead on Krasis. But it worried Steven that the
Iria
was seeking to communicate with them personally. It was possible that the waiting Illyri had somehow been informed of a possible problem with one or both of the approaching ships, and were now on the alert.

“Delay them, Alis,” said Steven.

“How?”

“I don't know. Just tell them Waltere and Sulus are in a meeting.”

“I'm not your secretary!”

“Alis, this really isn't the time.”

“Fine.”

Was that a huff? It certainly looked and sounded like one to Steven.

Alis opened visual and audio channels. There was no point in trying to spin a tale of lost visuals on both the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
. That would just strain credulity from the start. At least Alis was prepared; she had found some of Yallee's voice recordings on the ship's log, and could now imitate her perfectly. Also, with a flight cap pulled low on her head, she bore a passing resemblance to the dead officer.

“This is First Officer Yallee on board the
Gradus
,” she replied. “Commander Waltere is concluding a discussion with Captain Sulus, and requests your indulgence until the meeting is over.”

This time the delay between sending and receiving was about three hours in total; they were eating up the miles between the wormhole and the nearest relay. As soon as they passed it, communications between them and the
Iria
would be virtually instantaneous.

The image of a female officer appeared on the screen. She wore the black of the Securitats.

“This is Security Officer Pemaynell,” she said. “Unauthorized entry to this solar system is prohibited. Under security order seven-zero-two, I demand that the senior officers present themselves and explain the reason for their intrusion here.”

“What's security order seven-zero-two when it's at home?” Steven asked Alis.

“I have no idea. Must be new.”

“I hate people who go around making up new rules.”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her nothing. Whatever answer we give will be the wrong one. Let's leave them wondering for as long as we can.”

In retrospect, perhaps they shouldn't even have answered the first message, but it was too late now. The situation was always only going to end one way: with the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
facing off against the
Iria
and the
Satia
.

“We're receiving demands for security clearance codes from both ships,” said Alis.

“Send them whatever codes we picked up on Krasis.”

It was all smoke and mirrors. Every problem they caused the Illyri, every communication that needed to be examined or decoded, brought them a step closer to home.

Two more transmissions were received from Pemaynell. The first simply repeated her request that Waltere and Sulus appear before her. The second was more interesting, and set Steven's mind at rest, if only a little. Pemaynell was obviously confused—those security codes probably helped—which meant that she didn't have certain knowledge of a problem on board the two new Illyri craft, and therefore wasn't prepared to regard them as hostile without further confirmation. But she was also clear on the reception they would face if they continued on their present course.

“In the absence of a satisfactory response,” she warned, “we are placing our fleet on full alert. If you approach within half a million miles of this world, we will respond with force.”

“Half a million miles?” Steven asked Alis.

“About twice the distance from the earth to the moon.”

“Maybe she has problems with intimacy,” interjected Hague. “I bet she doesn't like being hugged. And someone should also tell her that she doesn't have a fleet. She's only got three ships.”

“It's one more than we have,” said Steven.

“Nobody likes a pessimist.”

Steven opened a channel to the
Marauder
.

“Rizzo, have you been listening to all that?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Let's see if they're still so bullish once we get within range.”

“Understood.”

One of their new crew spoke up. His name was Muren, and he was small, blond, and sixteen. He looked less like he belonged in the Brigades than in a particularly unthreatening Scandinavian boy band.

“Sir?” said Muren. “Won't they fire when we get in range?”

“Probably,” Steven replied.

Muren digested this.

“What'll we do then, sir?”

“We'll try not to be wherever they're aiming when it happens.”

“Okay.” It didn't appear to be the answer for which Muren had been hoping.

“Are you worried?”

“A bit, sir.”

“Do you have family back on Earth?”

“Yes, sir. My mother and father, and my two sisters. They're in Oslo. Or were.”

“I left my mother in Edinburgh,” said Steven. “I want to find out if she's safe too. I can't do that if I let some Illyri destroyer blow us to smithereens, can I?”

“No, I don't suppose so, sir.”

“So don't go concerning yourself about what those Illyri may or may not try to do once we get closer. It's them who should be worried about us. In the meantime, I have a job for you. I want you to collect details of the immediate families of everyone on board the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
. Once we establish contact with whatever is left of the Resistance, we'll set about trying to learn what's happened to them all.”

“Yes, sir.”

Muren gave a salute, and trotted off to find a stylus and a recording pad.

“Nicely done, Ste—sir,” said Hague. “If you don't mind my saying so.”

“What about you, Sergeant? Do you have family back on Earth?”

“A sister, somewhere,” said Hague. “We were never close.”

“Are you worried about her?”

“Not really.”

“Seriously?”

“You know how they used to say that only rats and cockroaches would survive a nuclear apocalypse?”

“Yes.”

“It's not true. My sister would survive as well. The rats and cockroaches would probably make her their queen.”

Steven thought about this.

“Well, one person fewer for us to find, then,” he said.

“Happy to have helped, sir.”

Together they stared at the images of the
Satia
and the
Iria
on the screen before them.

“That's a big destroyer,” said Hague.

“Yes, it is,” said Steven. “I don't know what we're going to do with it once we capture it.”

Hague stared at him, then began to laugh. It was an honest laugh, huge and generous, and when Steven looked around the cockpit, he saw that the sound of it had caused the rest of the crew to smile as well, even the returning Muren.

Steven smiled with them, even though he'd been quite serious in his reply.

He really wasn't sure what they were going to do with the
Satia
once it was theirs.

•  •  •

Day by day the tension increased as they drew closer and closer to Earth. The Illyri made no further attempt to contact them. The
Marauder
destroyed the main communications relay just beyond Jupiter's orbit around the sun. The relay was bigger than the rest, and equipped with message drones that could be sent through the wormhole. They had detected no such drones being dispatched before they reached the relay, which Steven considered a mistake on the part of Pemaynell and her colleagues. Perhaps they'd been hoping that the approaching ships would leave the relay intact, and if necessary a drone could be sent once they were safely past it. Had one been activated before the intruders reached the relay, it could have been chased down and destroyed. In this particular case, the Illyri had gambled, and lost.

They had Mars in sight when the
Satia
and the
Iria
started to come about. By the time they reached the limits of the exclusion zone, the
Revenge
and the
Marauder
were at battle stations.

“Rizzo?” said Steven. He spoke softly, and her voice came back to him over his personal earbud.

“Receiving.”

“You're clear on your orders?”

“I'm clear. Cooper will be at the helm. He is Sergeant Agostino's recommendation.”

Steven didn't need to ask where Rizzo would be. She would be at her weapons station. He, on the other hand, would be in sole charge of the
Revenge
, with Alis as backup should anything happen to him.

“Good luck, Rizzo.”

“And you. Sir.”

The moon loomed before them. The
Revenge
and the
Marauder
were running alongside each other, but now they separated, the
Revenge
moving to port, the
Marauder
to starboard, both in order to approach their assigned ships and to make themselves more difficult to target in turn. For a few moments the images of the
Satia
and
Iria
were lost, and then they were no longer required, for the two Illyri vessels became clearly visible before them, the destroyer lagging behind the cruiser, but both coming on fast. The
Satia
fired first, sending two torpedoes past the
Iria
and toward the
Revenge
. Steven let them approach, a pair of blurred stars slowly increasing in size, then veered hard to starboard, skimming the surface of the moon, following the Mare Imbrium, the Sea of Showers, bringing the torpedoes with them until the Montes Appeninus mountain range appeared like a gray wall before them. It filled the cockpit windows so that even Hague swore in apprehension, and he was not alone.

Then Steven was ascending near-vertically, following the face of Mons Huygens, and the
Revenge
shook as the torpedoes struck the foot of the mountain. Steven threw her to port, drawing away from the great peak and avoiding the slew of debris from the torpedo impact.

Beside him, Alis was monitoring the progress of the
Marauder
.

“The
Marauder
has engaged the
Iria
,” she said.

Steven risked a glance at the display, and saw an image of the two cruisers engaged in a dogfight, the
Marauder
drawing the
Iria
away from the destroyer, which, even with its advanced targeting, could not risk firing upon Rizzo for fear of hitting its own sister craft.

Now the
Satia
was again visible to the
Revenge
. Steven approached it from below, limiting its use of torpedoes but exposing the
Revenge
to heavy cannon fire. Not all of it could be avoided. They took near-simultaneous hits to starboard, and alarms began to whine.

“Damage report,” shouted Steven.

“We'll live, for now,” said Hague from behind him. “No hull breach, but another one like that and we'll be breathing stardust.”

The
Revenge
opened fire with its own cannon, raking the underside of the
Satia
. Steven watched with satisfaction as explosions bloomed along its length. Just as Agostino had made his pilot's recommendation to Rizzo, so too had Hague suggested a gunner to Steven: Biela, a Pole who Hague reckoned was only eighteen but looked ten years older than that, right down to his massive, fiery beard. Steven wasn't sure about the facial hair, but Biela could certainly shoot.