Scaevola's Triumph (Gaius Claudius Scaevola trilogy Book 3) (26 page)

"You mean," Lucilla teased, "there's something our studious one has overlooked?"

"There's a lot I've overlooked, as you put it," Gaius laughed. "I had to leave the interesting stuff for you!"

"Of course you did," Lucilla nodded. "I'll get onto it," she said, paused, then added with a grin, "when I get around to it."

"I'm glad you're too busy to get around to it," Gaius replied, full of mock seriousness. "It keeps you from wishing you were going home."

"It's funny," Lucilla said slowly, "that while I wish we could have stayed in Rome, I'm not really interested in going back right now."

"You're not?" Gaius asked in surprise.

"Neither am I," Vipsania said. "I know, eventually we'll try to get back, but it'll be a completely different place, and we won't know anyone. We'll be just as much strangers there as here."

"Except life would be a lot harder," Lucilla said emphatically. "You realize we had a very privileged life back in Rome, because our family owned an awful lot of land. If we went back, and arrived, say fifteen hundred years later, I can't see anyone being very interested in giving us back our land."

"And we would not be permitted to use any of the knowledge we've acquired here for our gain either," Gaius nodded. "We'd have to start from nothing."

"And they may not even speak Latin either," Vipsania mused. "There's that other civilization. If it predominated . . ."

"It hardly bears thinking about," Lucilla shuddered.

"I wouldn't worry," Gaius shrugged. "We won't be permitted to return, and that's all there is to it. If you want to worry about disasters, worry about the war."

"There hasn't been another disaster has there?" Vipsania asked.

"Not that we know of," Gaius replied, "although I'm quite confident more bad news is arriving."

"Ulse will survive," Lucilla said. "Something this great can't just be wiped out!"

"I suspect it can," Gaius said morosely.

"Even the libraries?"

"Oh no!" Gaius laughed a hollow laugh. "Everything else may fall about our heels, but there'll still be libraries."

"You're so confident?" Vipsania hugged him.

"When I got there, those defenders were mere shadows of what they are now," Gaius said confidently. "Unless Ulse's weaponry is completely useless, we shall defend the libraries."

"The nation will fall, but the books remain unscathed," Lucilla taunted. Then she leaned towards Gaius, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure you've done magnificently."

"I don't know about that," Gaius said, "but I'm sure of one thing. I've done as much as I possibly could. Of course, it still depends on the Ulsians not panicking at the time."

"Hopefully," Vipsania said quietly, "we'll never find out."

"Hopefully, I'm wrong," Gaius agreed, "but I don't think I am."

"I still don't understand why everyone thinks libraries are going to be the target," Lucilla frowned.

"I doubt they are," Gaius said, "but our weapons act far out into space, and it appears they are the strongest defences Ulse has. Whatever target is chosen, the library defences are by far the strongest."

"And you'll do better than the other defences," Vipsania said in an encouraging tone.

"I just hope we do enough to win," Gaius said. "Whether it's us or someone else, I don't care. I just want to win."

"You will," Vipsania said, and gave him a kiss.

Chapter 20

Gaius was just about to initiate yet another simulation, when the simulator went dead. He was about to curse, particularly since he was unsure of what to do as this time Klendor was at a different facility. Then the noise of the alarms went off. Ulsians began running to and fro, determined to demonstrate their improvement, perhaps in the hope they could have some time off. The weapons systems were being primed up, when a voice could be heard across the intercom.

"This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

"Power levels seventy per cent!" came a squeak from the weapons systems.

Gaius recognized the squeak of fear, and knew that for the next few hours his only role would be to keep them all at their posts, operating at maximum efficiency. He stepped calmly towards the centre of the room, and said quietly, but clearly enough that everybody could hear, "You've all done this hundreds of times, so let's get it right now." He began walking calmly around, patting nervous Ulsians, giving a warm hand on the shoulder to particular nervous soldiers. They looked at him, saw that he was almost unconcerned, then turned back towards their screens. Nobody wanted to be the one who showed what he was really feeling.

"Can we see targets?" Gaius asked.

"No sir!"

"I have something," a younger soldier offered. "I don't know what, though."

"Is it friendly?" Gaius asked.

"All friendlies accounted for," came the reply. "No sir, it is not."

"Moving?"

"Straight line, sir."

"Feed the coordinates to the weapons. Pattern four. Live fire!"

"Yes sir!" Pattern four was a tight wall of fire immediately before the assumed ships, on the deduced line of attack.

The great cannons began spitting. It was a strange feeling, Gaius thought. He was pumping enough fire-power into the void to wipe out entire cities, yet apart from a few lights flashing, some numbers whirring across displays, nothing was happening, he could feel nothing of what was being dispatched.

Suddenly there was a cheer. An enormous space vehicle was blown to pieces, and the pieces now had the clear signature of a battle cruiser.

"It's not over yet!" Gaius roared. "Keep firing, pattern six!"

Pattern six was a sequence of shots in the vicinity of where the destroyed ship would be if it continued. This was designed to strike an enemy flying in close formation. Nothing happened.

"Dephase pattern one!" Gaius ordered. "Full detector sensitivity!"

Pattern one involved patterns of low energy highly dissipated dephasing blasts, designed to heat the vessels.

"Nothing! Except maybe . . ."

"Pattern four on the "except maybe'!" Gaius roared.

Again, silence, then suddenly again pieces of space vehicle became apparent. Then the signature of the motors blowing apart.

"Pattern six about that spot, then back to pattern one! Pattern four on any possible strike!"

There was a silence. All were now glued to their screens.

"Pattern six, coordinates . . ." came a voice, then suddenly a pause as the Ulsian turned with a slightly guilty look, to see if he was authorized to have done that.

"You don't have to ask to destroy enemy!" Gaius said calmly. He could afford to be calm, because he could see that the orders had been carried out. "Just get on with it!" The heads went down again, to be seen to be concentrating on the job. The monitors showed the cannon fire, and the coordinates of where it was focused. Then another monitor indicated success. Two ships began glowing, and nearby exhausts showed the presence of panicking attackers. The cannon now had targets and pumped coordinated fire into the zone. A further seven enemy ships became incandescent.

It was all so detached, Gaius thought. So unlike his wars. Nothing happened except that lights flashed on screens, and a computer announced that a ship was destroyed, its crew killed, move onto the next… He pulled himself together. The one thing that had not happened yet was a strike on him by the enemy. The more ships he could destroy at this distance, the better! Then he realized this situation would not last. The ships he was destroying were getting closer. It would not be long before those he missed would have their chance.

Patterns of fire changed, spreading outward, then, in accord with the patterns of the usual enemy formations, the gunners began focussing on where they expected ships. For a few minutes, there was no success, then suddenly, a hit. Immediately the likely formation was pictured, and the cannon attacked it. Ships again became incandescent, and approximately twenty giant battleships ceased to be functional.

There was then nothing. Widespread firing found no signal, and cheers arose.

"Back to the basic search strategy!" Gaius ordered. "So far, well done, but we know the expected size of their fleet, and there's more to come. We also know those we've missed are getting closer. Group one: execute pattern one radiating from axis coordinate two-seventy-one!"

Pattern one resumed, including the new closer distribution. Nothing happened. There were no signals from energy reflected, there were no signs of occultation, nothing.

Gaius became concerned. Relaxation was pervading the room. He had to do something.

"Broaden the search to wide angle approach!" Gaius ordered. Strictly speaking, he was searching zones more under the domain of other bases, but he had to keep up attention.

The guns swung lower, and began firing.

"Signals! Close!"

"Pattern six!" Gaius ordered. Again the guns began spitting fire, and again ships began glowing. Then it became apparent that the next base had also located the ships.

"Sweep to the right, pattern one!"

The sweep began, then suddenly, more ships. These were close. Too close. The great guns began destroying them, but there were too many, too close.

"Incoming object! Dephasers locked!"

"Object destroyed! Some sort of guided bomb!"

"More of them! Lots of them!" More fear in the squeaky voice. "I think they're small ships!"

"Pattern three, axis two fifty-one!" Gaius roared. He bit his lip. His earlier guess had been good, but not good enough. He had nearly caught them far enough away to destroy the lot of them, but he had not. Now he had to resort to this mixed tactic. One quarter of the cannon would send up dissipated power, to try to destroy the bombs, one quarter would aim at the estimated trajectory of the ships continuing their approach, and half would devote their power to attempting to destroy a second wave on the same trajectory.

Bombs were destroyed, what were thought to be small ships were destroyed, but bombs kept coming, closer, closer . . .

"Keep firing!" Gaius ordered calmly. "Target the ships as a preference!" It was clear that some bombs would get through, and, as he knew better than most, it was unrealistic to expect that a competent enemy could not strike. The key was not to worry about the odd enemy success, but to do maximum damage to the enemy who were yet to strike, so as to minimize the firepower they would have to absorb.

"Got a flight!" came a cry. There was a second wave, and they had it. Two ships had dephasing locks, and as they disintegrated, their streams struck other ships, lighting them up.

"Pattern two!" Gaius ordered calmly. Pattern two involved devoting two thirds of the cannon to the area known to contain the enemy ships, and for the detectors to search for signs of motors from ships attempting to change course.

This enemy wave was trapped. Ship after ship began to disintegrate. Then, suddenly, a huge noise, and the ground shook, then another, and another. At one side of the room, the reinforced ceiling broke, and a cloud of dust shot into the room. There was a cry of pain, as a beam fell on one of the guards near the door.

"Keep firing!" Gaius said calmly. There had been a pause, Gaius could see some had wanted to run, but somehow they pulled themselves together, and returned to their posts. "Guards, do what you can for that soldier," Gaius said, and pointed at the trapped Ulsian.

Then one Ulsian jumped up, and began to run across the room. He saw Gaius staring at him, and said, "The screen's dead! I'm going to the back-up!"

"Good work! Get on with it!" Gaius tried to smile encouragingly through the haze of dust.

There were more thumps, and more dirt fell into the control room. Most of the Ulsians now wore facemasks, and Gaius had placed a mask specially built for him across his face. It filtered out the dust, kept his eyes clear, and provided fresh air for several hours. Engineers were running around, trying to keep equipment going, or to switch in alternatives. One screen was struck by something from above, a bolt of power surged through it, and the operator was thrown back across the room, writhing in pain.

"Medics!" Gaius called out calmly.

Fortunately, the calmness seemed contagious, and equally fortunately the cannon themselves were seemingly undamaged, and the rate of fire continued unabated. The dust was getting everywhere, but the keyboards remained workable, and the screens could still be seen if they were wiped every now and again.

There was a whoomph, and a sheet of flame shot upwards from equipment on Gaius' left. Gaius remained stationary. He stepped forward as a beam began to creak above him, but apart from stepping aside to make room for firemen he made no effort to get away from the fire. Inwardly, he felt it would not lead to anything more substantial, and while he was close enough for it to be uncomfortable, it was far more important the troops saw that he was unworried. And, he thought to himself, time to test out this Ulsian uniform.

"Something's landed!" came a cry.

"Deploy ground troops!" Gaius ordered. This was a difficult decision. If the enemy were on the ground, it had to be done. If the enemy had not landed, the troops would now be exposed to enemy attack. He had one claim that they had landed, and he had no means of assessing the reliability. The difficulty was, if the landing of these troops were critical to the success of the mission, there would only be a narrow window of time to prevent their success.

A period of silence followed. The engineers had the fire out, and had managed to get two air extractors going. Gradually the dust and smoke were clearing. This time there was a general apprehension. Most of the soldiers now assumed that this was a major attack rather than a passing hit and run mission. Some were even beginning to believe this was an invasion, perhaps the end of the free Ulsian civilization.

"So far, so good!" Gaius announced at last. "A small contingent of enemy did land, but I am pleased to announce that they achieved nothing, and have been successfully eliminated." A cheer rose up. "I know it's good news," Gaius continued, "but let's everybody stay focused."