The Unincorporated War (29 page)

Of course, she mused, attacking sixty brand-new ships near their own home base and supply depot with only forty of her own, just twenty of which were top of-the-line, was also dangerous. It all came down to whether or not the ruse would work.

“Look at the big fleet coming your way,” she began murmurring. “What stupid Belters we are to send our whole fleet this way.” All around her the command crew took note of her mutterings and smiled—their faith in their admiral, deepening.

“Admiral Gupta, it appears to be a large number of Alliance ships. They’re on a course directly toward the shipyard.”

The admiral stared at the oncoming blips with morbid fascination. His arms were behind his back and he was twiddling his thumbs nervously. “Lieutenant,” he said, “signal the fleet. Have Commodore Diep’s task force break off training in Martian orbit and proceed to these coordinates.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s her ETA to our quadrant?”

“One moment, sir … contacting.” The lieutenant looked up from his display a few seconds later. “Sir, Commodore Diep estimates one hour.”

Gupta stared at the large central holodisplay. He’d been taken by surprise with only one-third of his fleet in operation, and now he had to figure out a way to work what ever assets he had to his advantage.

“Must be Black,” Gupta murmured as a twisted grin formed at the corners of
his mouth. “Only she’d be so foolish as to plan a direct assault through a mine-field.” He then looked over to his comm officer. “Lieutenant, tell Commodore Diep to make best time, even if she has to jettison half her ship to do it. Minutes will make a difference here.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Minefield?”

“Activated, sir.”

“Good, have Commodore Ginzberg prepare his task force for immediate deployment.”

“Yes, sir … the commodore is in the tank waiting to talk with you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant; bring him up.”

Commodore Ginzberg popped up on-screen. He was a dark-haired man of average height and meticulously combed hair wearing a uniform so overpressed that Gupta often wondered how the man could even lift his arm to salute. Although Gupta thought very highly of Ginzberg as an organizer and preparer of ships, he would not have been Gupta’s first choice as combat officer. The first words out of the commodore’s mouth didn’t do anything to dispel that notion. “Admiral,” said Ginzberg perfunctorily, “I will need at least forty-five minutes to clear civilian personal from my ships and get the civilian craft safely away before I can break from space dock.”

“Louis,” Gupta said patiently, “there’s a battle coming. I can hold the enemy at the minefield, but you’ll have to get your ships ready to go, with or without the civvies.” Ginzberg opened his mouth to argue but was immediately cut off. “Let me be perfectly clear, Louis. If you’re not under way in twenty minutes I’ll save Admiral Black the trouble and hand you over to her myself.” He then motioned for the comm link to be cut.
With any luck,
thought Gupta,
he’ll pull it off in half an hour.
“Helmsman, hold position here. Lieutenant, order the task force to do the same.”

As the lieutenant relayed the orders to the fleet, Gupta’s second in command floated up from his post below. Gupta approved of the officer: sharp and respectful and always asked good questions.

“Admiral, a word if you don’t mind?”

“Certainly, Captain. What is it?”

“Black’s fleet is going to be at the minefield in a little less than ten minutes. If we boost hard we can meet them at the other side.”

“Why, Captain?”

“To engage them after the mines have caused the most damage but before they can repair themselves, sir.”

Gupta sighed. “Yes, I know
that,
Captain. I mean why would J. D. Black do this? I expected better of her.”

“Sir,” posited the captain, “she’s a lawyer who got lucky in one ambush. But to
expect real fleet capability out of her?” The captain then shook his head. “Not likely.”

“I pray you’re correct. But something’s not right.” Gupta once again stared at the theater. The thumbs he’d been madly twiddling behind his back suddenly came to a stop. He looked back at the captain.

“How many picket boats in this area?” asked Gupta, pointing to the perimeter of the minefield.

“Three, sir.”

“Good. Let’s send them to intercept.”

“Right away, sir … but if I may, sir … why? We know where the enemy’s coming from.”

“Captain, I’m looking at this area of potential battle and it occurs to me that it’s the only spot I don’t have any eyeballs on. Yes, our sensors have detected the enemy fleet there, but has anyone actually
seen
it?”

The captain shook his head, “No, sir.”

“I want an eyeball, then. Just to confirm.”

“On it, sir,” answered the captain as he floated back down to his station.

As Gupta stared intently at the blips representing the oncoming enemy his comm officer cleared his throat … twice. Gupta sighed. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“May not be my place, sir.”

“It’s not your place to obey a direct order from an admiral, Lieutenant?”

“Of course not, sir, I mean yes, sir, uh what I mean is—”

“You had a thought, Lieutenant, out with it.”

“Well, Admiral, it just occurred to me that the minefield’s not the only place we don’t have an eyeball, as you put it.”

“Where’s the other place, son?”

The lieutenant pointed to the vast field of asteroids floating beyond the mine-field off the main shipping lane. “There, sir.”

Gupta studied the chart for a moment. “Lieutenant, we have that area rigged with sensors. If there was a two-person garbage tug we’d know about it.” But his thumbs stopped twiddling and he found, hard as he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off the spot on the holographic display that the lieutenant had pointed to. “Send one of the picket ships past the minefield to scout out the resource field. Let’s just eyeball everything. Good thinking, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant nodded gratefully and went back to work.

For the next four minutes Gupta’s fleet of twenty sat and did nothing.

“Admiral,” came the captain over the comm link, “got something here.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Captain.”

“Well, sir, our picket, the one we sent to the resource field, according to our sensor net in the field … well …”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s not there.”

Bridge of the AWS War Prize

J.D. stared intently at her holodisplay. “Picket ships,” she muttered almost as if it were a curse from God himself.

Bridge of the TFS Vishnu

“Admiral, our two pickets are about to make visual contact with the approaching fleet.”

“Pipe it in, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant activated a control and a faint image of a young sailor came into the center holo-tank. The holo of the soldier was fuzzy, which the crew had expected. The enemy was undoubtedly trying to block or disrupt all communications.

“Fleet Command, fleet Command,” said the young officer excitedly, “visual analysis and active sensor is … is, Damsah’s ghost, Fleet Command, they’re … ice. I repeat: The enemy fleet is
ice.
We’re picking up multiple transponders mimicking ship noise.”

Gupta winced.
They threw icebergs at us?

“They’re traveling at a completely unvarying rate of speed,” continued the officer. “By my kids’ first dividend, one of them even has a rotation. Fleet, we’ve been suckered; they are not, I repeat,
not
an enemy fleet.”

The admiral made a motion for the connection to be cut.

“OK,” he said into the comm link attached to his acceleration couch. “If that’s nothing but a decoy, where
is
their fleet?”

“Lieutenant, open a connection to the other picket boat.”

“Connection made, Admiral.”

“Pilot, this is Admiral Gupta; what’s your name?”

“Taylor, sir. Lieutenant Allison Taylor.”

“Lieutenant, how long till you’re past the resource field?”

“Clearing the last couple of rocks now, sir.”

“Lieutenant, just take a quick look and turn around. In and out, quick as you can, understand?”

“Yes, Admiral… wait… I have something … ships! Damsah! Alliance ships! I count at least ten large, no … make that fifteen, no …” The connection was broken by a burst of static.

“Sir,” came another voice over the comm, “the picket ship’s been destroyed.”

“Navigation,” barked the admiral, “set course to intercept that fleet as it leaves the resource field. Communications, order the rest of the task force to do the same. Same goes for the other task forces.”

The orders were given and the crew began to feel the slow but steady tug of their warship as she began hurtling herself toward the field of combat. In unison nineteen other ships began turning and boosting as well

“What do you think she’s up to, Admiral?” asked the captain over the link.

Gupta had a sardonic smile. “Admiral Black wanted us and all our attention focused on that ice fleet. Which reminds me, deactivate the minefield.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” asked the captain, “but are you sure that’s wise?”

“Pardon granted, son. And yeah, I’m sure; deactivate it. She meant to kill us with our own ordnance.”

“Sir?”

“Brilliant plan, really. We slow down and wait for her in the wrong location while her real fleet slips through the resource field and rushes the shipyard. We would’ve been too slow and too far away to stop her in time. Then she would’ve had us backed against our own
activated
minefield.”

“We could’ve shut it down, sir.”

“On whose orders, son?” answered Gupta. “Don’t forget, she would have targeted my ship first. If I’m gone and the battle is raging, who shuts the field down? Never mind, don’t answer. I’ll tell you. Our fleeing ships do. That’s what she counted on. Blown up by our own protective net. Brilliant. The losses would’ve been astronomical.” Gupta laughed. “Well, I see you’re willing to gamble, Ms. Black, but this is one gamble you’ve lost, thanks to our young lieutenant here, and the life of one brave picket pilot.”

“Sir,” answered the lieutenant, “you deserve credit too.”

“Thank you, Captain, but the battle is not yet won.”

“No, sir. It’s not, but by now she’s probably realized we didn’t bite and that we’ll be waiting. I wouldn’t be surprised if she decides to cut and run.”

“We’re learning many things about Admiral Black, Lieutenant,” answered Gupta, “but something tells me she’s not the sort of person to cut and run.”

It took the task force almost fifteen minutes to arrive at the coordinates where the enemy had been identified. Gupta sent in automated probes, expecting to find an Alliance fleet charging full bore through the resource field. Instead he discovered a much more diminished cluster of warships—all at a dead stop. If anything, the formation was smaller than he’d expected. There were only twenty ships and they were all arranged in a defensive perimeter, using the asteroids in the field to obstruct incoming shots. And to a ship they were all jury-rigged, with not a one being from the recently captured Confederation fleet.

“Captain,” Gupta said, beginning to feel cold drops of sweat forming at the base of his forehead, “where the hell is the rest of their fleet?”

Bridge of the AWS War Prize

“Lieutenant Nitelowsen,” asked J.D., “how close are we to the shipyard?”

“Fifty thousand clicks, Admiral,” replied Marilynn with her usual efficiency.

“Minefield?”

“Deactivated … from their side, sir.”

J.D. flashed a venomous smile. “Then what say we crack open some ice and get this party started?”

A round of cheers broke out from the gallery around her.

“OK, people. Pipe down. There’s still work to be done.”

From the view of the shipyard what happened next would be remembered, by those who survived, as one of the most terrifying moments of the war. Twenty seemingly harmless icebergs cracked and then split apart. In the center of each, with only one exception, was a fully functional, fully modern warship. The exception was an Alliance-built glorified platform holding a rail gun that ran the entire length of the ship. What it lacked in maneuverability it more than made up for in firepower. Almost as one the Alliance ships turned on the unsuspecting and still-entangled Confederation fleet.

Bridge of the AWS War Prize

“Admiral, we have multiple pings on civilian craft breaking from the shipyard,” said the young Jovian in charge of the sensor array. “They’re interfering with the yard’s defensive batteries and, well, just making a mess of things.”

“As planned, Lieutenant,” answered J.D.

“Admiral, those warships are just sitting there. We could drop off a few A.M. detachments and capture the whole lot without denting the paint job.”