Singularity: Star Carrier: Book Three (4 page)

His first command had been the gunship
Pégase
in 2374, and on his promotion to
capitaine de frégate
five years later he’d been given the command of the
De Grasse
, serving with the Terran Confederation’s Pan-European contingent.

He’d never commanded a ship in battle, however, for either Pan-Europe or the Confederation. He’d made
contre-amiral
in 2389, at age 40, then
vice-amiral
in 2394, and
vice-amiral d’escadre
in 2397, a spectacularly swift rise up the hierarchy of flag rank. His final promotion to
grand-amiral
had been conferred in 2403. He’d been in command of a joint Franco-German-Russian fleet in Earth Synchorbit, Koenig noted, during the Defense of Earth, but that fleet had not seen combat.

An uncle of Giraurd’s had been the French prime minister from 2385 through 2397, which just might explain his lightning rise through the ranks. He also had a cousin, General Daubresse, currently on the Confederation Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Giraurd family was one of the wealthiest in Pan-Europe. Family, political, and financial connections weren’t supposed to have any influence on promotions within the Confederation military, but everyone was all too aware of the reality. Both Pan-Europe and the UNSA had families who’d rotated between politics and the military going back for generations.

“I think he’s more bluff and bluster than anything else,” Buchanan said. “The real problem is going to be DuPont and the politicos back in Geneva. I’d like to know exactly what Giraurd’s orders are right now.”

Koenig had been thinking the same thing. Clearly, the Confederation government had hoped that Girard’s arrival would overawe Koenig enough that he would meekly return to Earth—coupled, carrot and stick, with the promise of being made president of the Confederation Senate.

“Admiral? This is fleet communications,” Lieutenant Julio Ramirez said, interrupting electronically.

“Excuse me, Randy. Go ahead, comm.”

“Incoming transmission from
Jeanne d’Arc
. Time lag . . . seven minutes, twenty seconds.”

“Very well.” Koenig opened the channel to include Buchanan. “Captain? You might want to listen in on this.”

“Of course, sir.”

A window opened in Koenig’s mind, static-blasted, then clearing. Giraurd’s face peered out at him. “Admiral Koenig, this is Grand Admiral Giraurd, on board the Confederation star carrier
Jeanne d’Arc
. I must inform you that I have the authority of the Terran Confederation Senate to place you under arrest if you do not comply with their orders.”

“He followed us for a hundred and fourteen light years to tell us that?” Buchanan asked.

“He probably can’t go back empty-handed,” Koenig replied, as Giraurd continued talking in the background. The transmission was strictly one-sided, a monologue. It would take another seven and a half minutes, nearly, for any response to get back to the approaching
Jeanne d’Arc
.

“My orders,” Giraurd was saying, “are to take command of CBG-18 and organize its immediate return to Earth. . . .”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Buchanan asked.

“What am
I
going to do about it,” Koenig replied. “No sense in your career getting fried too.”

“Admiral, we’re long past that point. If they hang you, they’re going to hang every senior officer in the battlegroup.”

Giraurd kept speaking. “You are hereby directed to shut down your maneuvering drive and your weapons systems and prepare to receive the
Jeanne d’Arc
alongside. I am awaiting your immediate reply. Giraurd,
Jeanne d’Arc
, out.”

“Well,” Koenig said. “Short and to the point.”

“We’re going to have to make a fight-or-flight decision in another . . . call it three hours, sir.”

“I know. Ramirez?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Can you patch through a high-focus laser on
Illustrious
?”

There was a brief delay. “Yes, sir. No problem. We have a clear shot. The time lag is . . . make it seven thirty-five.”

“Do so. I want Captain Harrison on the link, personal and private.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.”

Koenig knew Captain Ronald Fitzhugh Harrison, the skipper of the British assault carrier
Illustrious
. If Giraurd was bluff and bluster, Harrison was the real deal. He was a veteran of a number of actions, including both Sturgis’s World and Everdawn against the Turusch; Cinco de Mayo, against EAS; and the Chinese Hegemony and Spanish rebels, and he included among his service medals both the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross and the Distinguished Service Cross.

“
Jeanne d’Arc
has tagged their transmission with an immediate response requested, Admiral.”

“Ignore them.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Koenig thought for a moment, then began recording his transmission to Harrison.

“Hello, Ron. This is Alex, on the
America
. I’m sure you’re under orders not to receive transmissions from us, but before you cut me off you’d better have a look at the attached intel. They might not have told you everything.

“If you’d care to chat, tag me back. Koenig, awaiting your reply. Out.”

He attached a file with the name “Operation Crown Arrow” and uploaded it to Fleet Communications. It would be on its way down a laser beam aimed at the Pan-European carrier
Illustrious
within seconds.

It would be more than fifteen minutes before he could expect a reply.

For almost four decades, since the Sh’daar Ultimatum, the Terran Confederation had been shrinking, its borders on several fronts relentlessly pushed back by the encroaching Sh’daar Alliance. They’d taken Rasalhague, forty-seven light years from Sol, in 2374. Twenty-three years later, they’d hit Sturgis’s World, at Zeta Herculis, thirty-five light years out.

And a few months ago, just before CBG-18 had left the Sol System, they’d taken the colony at Osiris, 70 Ophiuchi AII. That was just sixteen and a half light years away, practically on Earth’s doorstep, astronomically speaking.

The Sh’daar and their subject races were closing in.

Operation Crown Arrow had been devised to buy the Confederation time, a raid deep, deep into Sh’daar-controlled space, striking at fleet assembly points, manufactory centers, and staging areas. WHISPERS, the Weak Heterodyned Interstellar Signal Passband-Emission Radio Search, had detected a number of sources of faint, intelligently directed radio signals and identified them as probable sites of Sh’daar or Turusch activity. The immense manufactory at Alphekka, sucking in debris from the star’s protoplanetary disk and building Turusch warships, had been one of the loudest of these, but there was a list of more distant sites as well.

And with the capture of the Alphekkan manufactory had come the Alphekkan Directory, a Turusch list of other military bases within about five thousand light years of Sol.

That list proved one important thing. The Sh’daar and their Turusch proxies were stretched
thin
. It couldn’t really be otherwise, not in a galaxy of 400 billion stars. The enemy
couldn’t
maintain a guardian fleet within every star system. They couldn’t even put guards within every inhabited system.

Koenig was certain now that the Alphekkan base had been designed for nothing less than building a fleet intended to subjugate—possibly to destroy—Earth. A huge number of ships, empty and waiting, had been captured there. The Sh’daar
might
be planning on using the newly captured base at 70 Ophiuchi, but that was across 42 degrees of Earth’s sky, a straight-line distance of 62.5 light years from Alphekka. The almost overwhelming likelihood was that the enemy had hit 70 Ophiuchi as a diversion, to pull human fleet resources away from Sol. The main strike, Koenig thought, would come from the direction of the constellation of Corona Borealis, from Alphekka.

Operation Crown Arrow called for an initial strike at Alphekka in order to cripple the Sh’daar assets there . . . and that strike had been an unprecedented success. But the follow-on had called for CBG-18 to continue deeper into Sh’daar space, ideally drawing off the enemy forces now pressing so hard on Sol, getting them to follow
America
and her consorts.

Exhaustive analyses had gone into the planning. Step by step, Koenig, using a small army of artificial intelligences, had shown conclusively that running from point to point to meet individual Sh’daar advances—like the taking of Osiris—would inevitably leave Earth vulnerable to a final, overwhelming attack. The Confederation did not have the capacity in personnel, in equipment, or in industrial strength to meet the Sh’daar on anything like an equal basis long term.

That, Koenig, thought, should have been self-evident. According to the alien Agletsch, the Sh’daar dominated something like a third of the galaxy, which meant more than 100 billion suns, billions of habitable worlds, and an estimated 5 million technic civilizations. The Confederation had Sol and a handful of colonized star systems—twenty-five, at last count, plus a couple of hundred outposts and research stations. Twenty-five worlds against an unknown number of billions . . . a flea against some giant, enormous extinct beast, a tyrannosaur, a titanothere, or an elephant. It was impossible. . . .

But Koenig had an idea that might work. Alphekka had been a spectacular victory; now, CBG-18 needed to hit the next target, and the next one after that. The Alphekkan Directory had pointed him to a likely candidate, a star system not listed on any human catalogues, but known to the Agletsch as Texaghu Resch.

Hit that, and Koenig believed that every Sh’daar fleet within a thousand light years would be chasing him. After that . . .

“Admiral? Incoming . . . from Captain Harrison, on the
Illustrious
.”

Koenig checked his internal clock. What the hell? Only five minutes had passed since he’d sent the message to Harrison; he hadn’t even had time to receive it yet. This must be one of those “great minds” moments; Harrison had tried to reach him within moments of his trying to communicate with Harrison.

“Put it through. Randy? Listen in, please.”

Within his mind, a communications window opened, and Harrison’s face appeared. “Alex! This is Ron Harrison. Remember me? The academy speech, two years ago.”

Koenig remembered. The two of them had together addressed the 2403 graduating class at the Naval academy. It wasn’t the last time he’d seen the man, but it was the last time he’d had more than a few minutes to talk with him.

“What the hell is going down, Alex?” Harrison continued. “Giraurd is about to bust a gut. He’s calling you a traitor and worse, and he’s told us that he intends to attack your squadron if you don’t do exactly what he says.

“This mess is a put-up hatchet job, I’m certain of that. This isn’t the Senate speaking. It’s a small clique inside the Senate—the damned Conciliationists. They haven’t figured out yet that appeasement
never
works.

“Now, I notice the other USNA ships in our flotilla broke off and followed you. That was to be expected.
Illustrious
and two others,
Warspite
and
Conqueror
, are under my direct command . . . and I’ll be damned if I’m going to see them fire the opening shots of a civil war. Give the word, and I’ll slide the three of us over to your side of the line.

“Harrison, awaiting your reply. Out.”

“Well, well,” Buchanan said. “Division within the enemy’s ranks?”

“They’re not our enemies,” Koenig said.

He was thinking furiously. How well did he trust Harrison? Was this a genuine offer to change sides . . . or was it a covert move directed by Giraurd, an attempt to get three major warships in close to the
America
? Koenig hated the paranoid thought, but he had to consider every possibility.

What, he wondered, had been the speech at the academy? When the topic didn’t come immediately to mind, he downloaded it from his personal database. Koenig’s speech had been about the need to be vigilant and develop a unity of purpose and strategy in the war against the Sh’daar. Harrison’s speech had been titled “The Worm Within: Covert Penetration of the Enemy’s Infrastructure.” He’d been telling the graduating midshipmen that they needed to think outside the box, to think not only in terms of classical fleet strategies, but to use high-tech infiltration techniques to tap into alien command and control systems. Koenig had done exactly that three months before, when he’d deployed a small SEALs team to covertly breach and enter a giant H’rulka warship moving into the Sol System in order to establish contact with the beings inside.

And now, Koenig thought, Harrison was using the title as a warning. This
was
a covert attempt to get his forces in close to the
America
.

“Ramirez,” Koenig said. “Reply to Captain Harrison, personal and confidential. Message begins.