Rich Man's War (43 page)

He didn’t listen for a response. Captain Wagner ran
Hercules
from the battleship’s command bridge. Eldridge had command of the fleet as a whole: three battle groups, each centered on a battleship, along with three expeditionary groups and several destroyer squadrons, all with
Hercules
as the flagship. An image of
Hercules
floated above the center of the table. A faint sphere of yellow light extended further and further outward as the ship’s sensors established the customary two-light-minute sensor bubble.

Verbal reports continued across
the flag bridge. “Battle group Andromeda reporting in with all ships accounted for,” announced another specialist. “No damage or disruptions. Moving into formation.”

“Battle group Ursa
still assembling…
Irrawady
and
Daphnis
arriving.”

Status reports for the expeditionary groups centered
on the assault carriers offered similar positive results. With arrival going according to plan, Eldridge focused his attention on the ships and other contacts already in the area when his fleet dropped out of FTL. The sensor bubble around
Hercules
was still growing, but would reach its full extent of two light minutes soon enough.

He could already see multiple picket drones spread out in a circular net around Raphael and her moon. A cruise liner lay a few thousand
klicks outside that net. For the moment,
Hercules
couldn’t see any other contacts, but that could change in a heartbeat. Unless Archangel genuinely didn’t expect a military incursion, the bulk of their Navy would be within two light minutes of Raphael. The presence of that drone net indicated the Navy most certainly did expect unwelcome guests.

“Mr.
Shabolov,” Eldridge called out to one of his aides, “contact that liner and have them pull aside. We’ll send over a boarding team to direct them out.”

* * *

The three-dimensional display and its flatscreen supplements explained everyone’s apprehension.
Argent
lay close to the perimeter line created by the drone net, put in place to generate artificial gravity waves that would make FTL travel excessively dangerous. The absolute minimum safety line for FTL travel to a given planet typically matched the orbital path of its furthest moon, which for Raphael was not quite 400,000 kilometers. The drone net couldn’t offer viable coverage further out than another 250k, but that still provided a significant extension of Raphael’s perimeter.

The arriving force couldn’t have known the position of the drone net in advance of their arrival—not when NorthStar clearly set planning and fleet assembly in motion as soon as they knew of Aguirre’s intentions—but they surely knew the basic layout of the Archangel star system. Someone in their planning section had doubled the distance between Raphael and its moon,
Azarias, as an educated guess.

Apparently,
the Big Three had made some advances in FTL safety that they hadn’t shared with the rest of the Union yet. FTL transit within a system was always dangerous, even at this distance from any large source of gravity… but Casey saw dozens of contacts, some of them huge, and yet he saw not one sign of distress among any of them.

Within seconds, Casey had a straightforward grip on the situation: Raphael lay 600,000 km to his rear. That was only two light seconds. The capital was fully aware of this development by now. The
Navy was clear on the other side of the perimeter. 150,000 klicks ahead, beyond a net of drones much too far apart to be seen with the naked eye, NorthStar’s fleet of ships got themselves in order.

“So many,” breathed a familiar voice beside him. Casey glanced up to see Hawkins looking wide-eyed at the projections.

“Yup,” Casey nodded. “Three battleship strike groups, expeditionary groups behind them with some other loose change, and… heh. Look at that. One of those destroyer squadrons is all CDC ships. That one expeditionary group is Lai Wa vessels, too. Must have decided everyone had to put some skin in the game.”

Contacts representing each of the ships drifted into closer formations. Each of the battleships was escorted by a companion cruiser, a pair of destroyers and several frigates. New contacts appeared as all three of the battleships released a corvette from their launch bays. The assault carriers arrived in pairs with about as many escorts as the battleships, each of them a
mammoth vessel holding thousands of troops, atmospheric flyers and landing craft for an occupation.

“Helm,” Casey called out, “get us drifting backward toward Raphael like we’re nervous. Quarter speed, nothing more.”

“
’Like we’re nervous?’
” Hawkins repeated. He gestured toward the dreadful picture on the astrogation display. “What the hell are we supposed to do against that?”

“Nobody said we had to take ‘
em
all
on,” Casey winked and slapped Hawkins on the shoulder. Their grim circumstances made it all the more amusing to fuck with his first officer. “C’mon. They want to talk to the captain. Unless you want me to take the call, that’s gonna have to be you.”

Hawkins swallowed hard. “The plan isn’t going to work,” he hissed. “Nobody expected a fleet of that size!”

“Could’a told them it wouldn’t work if they’d ever asked my opinion,” Casey agreed.

“We can’t fight against that!”

Casey stopped and turned halfway around to look at his first officer. “Y’know what? How about you stay over there until you get your act together. I’ve got this.” Then he turned back to the task at hand. “OOD, I have the conn. Take your station. Comms, give me audio only and make sure the voice mask is running. Who am I talking to?”

“
NSS Hercules
, sir,” Renaldo answered. “She’s one of the battleships.”

“Of course she is,” Casey rolled his eyes. “
Hercules
. Fucking egomaniacs.”

“Voice mask confirmed. Audio open on your station. Captain on comms,” Renaldo added with a raised voice to tamp down on the ambient chatter on the bridge.

Casey took a deep breath and then hit a button on the side of the captain’s chair. “
NSS Hercules
, this is, uh,
ASG Argent
,” Casey said, sounding noticeably shakier than he actually felt. He called up several of his own holo projections to match those at the astrogation table, then set to eliminating the less relevant info on the displays as he spoke. “We’re on shakedown cruise. Just Independent Shipping Guild standards.”

“
Argent, Hercules
. Please open visual communications,” came the response.

“Uh, negative, we can’t do that just yet,” Casey stammered. “We’re working on it. Sorry. You kind of made us nervous showing up like this. Operator error, we’re rebooting the system, sorry. Give us a second.”

Nerves aside, Renaldo at the comms station threw a skeptical look at the captain. Casey released the transmit button. “Who cares if they believe it or not? We need to look a little sketchy here.” He glanced at the tactical display. The closest of the enemy ships remained 135k out, which was 15k beyond the most extreme beam weapon range for anything he’d ever heard of on a starship.
Argent
drifted farther away, only a thousand kilometers every few seconds, but the distance would help.

Casey checked the other status boards.
Air in the promenade, observatories and other compartments of no use in combat would be drawn back into emergency compression tanks within the next thirty seconds. Every battle station reported its readiness.

“Helm,” he said, “ease off now. Turn us one-eighty by zero, slowly. See that line from Raphael to the bad guys there? Go perpendicular from it. Let ‘
em think we’re backing out of the line of fire.”

“
Argent, Hercules
,” the voice on the comms speaker broke in. “Stand by. Maintain your current position.”

Casey frowned. “Well, shit. Better do as he says. Helm, cut thrusters. I don’t mind if we drift a bit.”

“What’s happening?” asked Hawkins.

“Well, Raphael’s within a couple light seconds of the fleet, so Salvation might be talki
ng with them right now,” Casey considered, “but I’m betting the fleet’s making sure they’re all in good order before they push on with their plans.”

* * *

Eldridge turned his eyes to the status boards again. He still had no other sensor contacts on the far side of the drone picket line. Behind and around him were nothing but allied ships. He keyed a hardpoint button on the command table. “Group Hercules, establish firing solutions on the drone net. Squadron Two, stand by for dispatch to secondary targets.” He released the key and looked over to a senior aide. “Commander Gordon,” he said, “send the message to Raphael. If they’re not awake in Salvation by now, they will be soon enough.”

The message flashed across several screens in the flag bridge as it was broadcast. Neither the ops specialists nor any
automated system read it aloud. Most of the personnel present were familiar with its contents:

“To all civil and military authorities of Raphael: Pursuant to Union Assembly Resolution Thirteen and related security and peacekeeping authorities granted to NorthStar Corporation, Lai
Wa Corporation and CDC Enterprises, you are hereby ordered to comply with any and all instructions from Task Force Intercession.

“Military forces are ordered to establish contact and stand down from all security and patrol operations. Failure to comply will result in
the use of force.

“The President of Archangel, Speaker of the Legislature and Governor of Raphael are ordered to contact Task Force Intercession immediately. Failure to comply will result in military action.”

The sensor bubble around
Hercules
grew. A new contact emerged, far behind the fleet, representing a single civilian yacht. Elsewhere, drifting into the drone net from further out into the system, was a lone freighter. A single Navy corvette turned up orbiting Azarias, Raphael’s sole moon.

Nothing resembling a defensive fleet appeared within the two light-minute bubble.

“Come on, Yeoh,” Eldridge murmured as he watched and waited. “Don’t be a fool.”

* * *

“Did they—are they here with Assembly authority?” Hawkins choked.

“Are you kidding me?” scowled Casey. “They’d be here with
Union Fleet ships to fly the flag if they had that kind of backing. Resolution Thirteen just gives the Big Three the authority have an armed fleet at all, and that’s to defend against aliens and pirates and bullshit like that. Christ, don’t you know anything? I thought you were an academy grad.”

Hawkins swallowed hard. He knew that, of course. It was the sort of thing a ship’s officer could rattle off
at a whim. His duties on
Argent
aside, though, it had been a while since Hawkins served on a starship. He was more of a spook than a spacer anymore… but he knew that Archangel’s militia couldn’t handle a force like this in a straight fight. Just one of those battle groups could outlast the whole Navy.

Seconds ticked past. No reply came from Salvation, nor any militia authority. No reply came at all.

Casey’s tactical displays grew considerably more active. “Fleet ships firing!” announced Quentin from the ops station. “Beam weapons—they’re blowing up the closest drones.”

“Yeah, I see that,”
said Casey. Several contacts, identified as a couple of corvettes from deeper inside the mass of larger ships, split off from the main group, presumably to blow a wider hole in the net. The drones carried chaff rockets, signal scramblers and a couple of light laser turrets for self-defense, but they couldn’t stand up against the sort of firepower that real military ships offered. The net was a deterrent, not a fortified defense.

Casey recognized the opportunity. He hit the comms button again. “
Hercules
, what’s going on?” he asked with deliberate fright.

“
Argent, Hercules
. Hold your position and stand by. Power down your engines.” Contacts on the tactical board broke off from the main body.
Argent’s
systems recognized them as destroyers. “
Argent
, you are ordered to heave to and prepare to be boarded and then guided out of the area. You will not be harmed. Please confirm.”

“
We’ve got us a ballgame,” Casey muttered. “
Hercules, Argent
. Please explain.”

“
Argent, Hercules
. Sit tight. Stay out of the way and you will not be harmed.”

“They won’t even say it,”
observed Hawkins.

“Of course they won’t.”

“Why are they all here in one big group?” Hawkins wondered nervously. “Shouldn’t they… shouldn’t they come in from more than one point?”

“Are you scared?” Casey looked over at his first officer, but knew he wouldn’t get an honest answer. “That’s why.
Intimidation value.” His attention turned back to his tactical displays. “Oh, good. It’s all CDC ships coming out to us. Probably glad to give them something to do out of the way while the NorthStar boys do all the heavy lifting.”