The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword (23 page)

He barely had time to notice the alert on his display before several massive explosions erupted outside the base, tearing huge gaps in the forces attacking sector two. The entire base trembled as the shocks rolled through the planet’s upper layers like minor earthquakes.

Malin’s mouth had fallen open in surprise. He shut it with an audible snap. “Orbital bombardment. Kommodor Marphissa must have saved a few bombardment projectiles, General, and managed to get her ships back overhead despite the enemy warships.”

The attack against Kai’s brigade had been shattered, the Syndicate attackers closest to the base suddenly isolated and panicking, breaking off the fight and fleeing into the newly spawned craters where the bombardment projectiles had fallen. Kai’s forces kept firing as long as they had targets, riddling the retreating enemy ranks.

Drakon checked with Safir, seeing the Syndicate attackers falling back there, as well. “I think they’re worried there may be more rocks falling,” Safir announced with glee.

“There probably aren’t,” Drakon said. “Our warships probably just shot their last load. But that one barrage hurt the Syndicate badly.”

“Their CEO has been throwing their lives away to keep the pressure on us,” Safir said. “Unless they’ve got another division in the rear, they’re not going to be able to keep that up.”

“Yeah,” Drakon agreed. “It almost worked, but after the losses they sustained, they’re going to have a hard time hitting us that hard at multiple points again.”

Maybe, just maybe, the situation had swung from hopeless to not-quite-hopeless.

Assuming that Kommodor Marphissa had figured out how to handle that Syndicate battleship.

—

MARPHISSA
felt a sudden surge of hope as she realized that the new ship had arrived at the jump point from Midway.

It was a big ship.

Pele.
It must be the battle cruiser.
Pele
wouldn’t even the odds, but it would give them more of a chance. “I don’t believe it!” Marphissa cried out loud. “Thank you, Madam President! How could she have known?”

Kapitan Diaz was staring at his own display. “It’s not
Pele
.”

“What? How can it not be
Pele
? That’s too big to be anything but—” Marphissa couldn’t say anything else for a moment as
Manticore
’s sensors produced a unit identification for the new ship. “It’s the
Midway
.”

Marphissa could hear the bridge crew unsuccessfully trying to suppress cries of joy. Diaz was grinning like a fool. “Our battleship. This more than evens the odds!” Diaz said.

Had they forgotten that
Midway
’s weapons were still being fitted, activated, and integrated? Would a bluff work again, on the attack? Marphissa was about to dump cold water on the enthusiasm when
Midway
’s status feed arrived. “Do you see that?” she asked Diaz, amazed. “Look at her status!”

“They’ve got almost all the main armament operational,” Diaz said, still grinning.

“How did they—? How did President Iceni know we would need her? Is it for real?”

Diaz indicated his display. “The weapon status is on the classified feed. Kapitan Mercia would try to fool the enemy with false appearances, but she wouldn’t be sending us that information unless it was true.”

“I knew they were getting close to integrating the weapons into the combat systems and bringing the whole thing online, but she must have really cracked the whip to get them that far that fast.”

On the heels of the light showing the arrival of the
Midway
came a message addressed to Marphissa.

“Greetings, Kommodor,” Freya Mercia said. She was seated on the expansive bridge of the battleship, looking gratifyingly confident and composed. “It appears that we got here in time. I will be proceeding at my best speed in-system toward the main inhabited world until I receive other instructions. President Iceni had concerns about our warships and about General Drakon’s ground forces, and I can see those concerns were more than justified. I await your orders, and assure you that
Midway
is ready to strike the enemy and avenge the citizens of Kane.”

The view of Kapitan Mercia panned slightly to one side, revealing another figure in the seat next to her, a woman wearing a very different uniform. “We have also brought Captain Bradamont along. She knows a few things about fighting Syndicate battleships, after all. Please inform CEO Boucher for me that this star system will be her graveyard. For the people, Mercia, out.”

Marphissa pointed at Diaz. “Kapitan, give me a vector to get
Manticore
and
Gryphon
back to the planet and over General Drakon’s troops again. I’ll order
Hawk
and
Eagle
to join up with us there. If I know CEO Boucher, she’s going to stop worrying about the freighters, collect Haris’s two cruisers, and head for an intercept with the
Midway
.” She straightened, adjusted her uniform, put on her best command face, then touched her comm controls. “Kapitan Mercia, Captain Bradamont, we are very happy to see you. Remain in your current vector. I expect CEO Boucher to alter vector to attack you. We will give the ground forces what remaining support we can, then head to meet up with
Midway
before you encounter the Syndicate flotilla. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

“Kommodor,” Diaz said after she ended the transmission, “Happy Hua might decide to strike at General Drakon before heading to attack the
Midway
.”

“No, she will not.” Marphissa turned a fierce look on Diaz. “The Syndicate was waiting for us here. They knew a lot about our plans and our forces. They will have told CEO Boucher that the
Midway
’s weapons are still not operational, and using Syndicate standards, Hua will feel safe in assuming those weapons could not possibly have been brought to operational status in this short a time. She will be furious that
Midway
’s bluff chased her from Midway Star System last time. She will want to counter what she believes to be another bluff. Happy Hua’s priority will be to catch and destroy
Midway
before she can escape from Ulindi.”

Diaz smiled. “Hua is going to close her hand on a bear trap.”

“And we’re going to be there when she does. But first, we’re going to give the ground forces what support we have left.” Marphissa called up an image of the last-known status of the ground forces. “Are they still in the buildings or have they taken the base? We can’t drop a bombardment if we don’t know. Have your comm people try to get in contact with the ground forces.”

“Get on it,” Diaz ordered the bridge comm specialist. “Tell comms I want to punch through to the ground forces.”

“Yes, Kapitan,” she replied. “There is still a lot of jamming and other interference, and the ground forces’ transmitters are relatively weak. But we will do it if it can be done.”

Diaz leaned back, looking pensive as he gazed at his display. “I worked for a sub-CEO once who would have told me to do it even if it couldn’t be done.”

“I worked for one like that, too,” Marphissa said. “Three like that. At least we’re closing on the ground forces’ locations. Maybe when we get close enough, we can talk to someone.”

“Half an hour until we should be in orbit directly over the ground forces,” Diaz said.

Marphissa stirred, touching a comm control. “
Sentinel
, have you or other Hunter-Killers been able to monitor activity on the surface?”

Sentinel
’s reply took almost six minutes. “Negative, Kommodor. We have seen fighting and figures moving, but our ability to see through all of the smoke and chaff is pretty low. All we can tell you for certain is that fighting is still under way around the base.”

Marphissa waved away the virtual window showing
Sentinel
’s commanding officer. Asking the Hunter-Killers had been a long shot. They were small, they had relatively limited and weak sensors compared to those on larger warships, and as
Sentinel
had said, there was so much junk in the atmosphere that seeing what was going on at the level of detail necessary to distinguish between Midway soldiers in Syndicate battle armor and Syndicate soldiers in Syndicate battle armor would have required a miraculous level of luck.

“Kommodor,” Senior Specialist Czilla announced. “We have firm tracks on both of Haris’s cruisers.”

Marphissa checked that portion of her display, smiling as she saw that the vectors for both cruisers were heading to an intercept with the Syndicate flotilla.
We walked into your trap, Happy Hua. Now you are doing what we expect and what we want, and the trap will spring on you.

“Kommodor,” the comm specialist said, “we do not know whether any of our messages have reached General Drakon’s forces, but we have just received a text-only message for you from the planet. Our ground forces must have gained access to a more powerful transmitter, but it appears text-only is all they can get through the jamming that Haris’s forces are maintaining.”

“What does it say?” Marphissa asked, resting her chin in one hand while she gazed at the old depiction of the ground situation.

“Have taken enemy base,”
the comm specialist recited.
“Drakon forces now inside base. Under heavy attack from estimated division-strength Syndicate ground forces outside base. Request any assistance possible.”

Diaz shook his head. “How can we believe that? Haris could have sent it, trying to fool us into bombarding Drakon. What if it is our own ground forces that are still outside, attacking Haris’s forces inside the base?”

“That’s a very good point,” Marphissa said, frowning. “Every text message looks the same, no matter who sent it. How can we tell one side from the other when we’re looking down at a ground battle from orbit, and both sides are wearing the same battle armor? Is that the entire message?” she demanded of the comm specialist. “Was there anything else?”

“Just a section at the end that must have gotten garbled, Kommodor,” the comm specialist replied.

“What does it say?”

“It says . . .
wash your sins away in the tide
. That’s what it says, Kommodor. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wash—?” Marphissa sat straight. “Show it to me. Show me the entire text message.”

A window popped into existence next to her, the lines of text marching across it. There at the end was the phrase the comm specialist had repeated. “Wash your sins away in the tide,” Marphissa repeated out loud, smiling with relief.

“Does that mean something?” Diaz asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Kapitan, that whoever sent that text message is a person entrusted by President Iceni with certain phrases that allow other trusted people to recognize them. President Iceni trusted the person who sent this text message enough to give them that phrase. I will believe that the message is true.”

“But what if Haris learned the phrase?” Diaz objected.

“If that is true, if he knows that much, then we are lost,” Marphissa said.

“But . . . the message claims they are under attack from an entire division of Syndicate ground forces that we didn’t know were there? An entire division?” Diaz asked.

“You would make a very bad yes-man,” Marphissa said. “That’s one of the things I like about you as a Kapitan, but don’t take it too far. Think about it, and it makes sense. That Syndicate division is the ground forces equivalent of the Syndicate battleship that was hidden, waiting for us in space. I don’t know how they managed it, but it’s a classic snake trick. Let someone think they have the upper hand, let someone believe that they are in control, and then when they have stuck their necks out, bring the axe down.”

“That’s right,” Diaz said. “So we assume that General Drakon’s forces are inside the base?”

“Yes.” She turned to look at the comm specialist. “See if you can get a message back down to them. I want to—” The comm specialist got a look that caused Marphissa to stop speaking. “What is it?”

“Another text-only, Kommodor, but only partial.
Barrage incoming. Require assis—
And then nothing.”

“Does that make sense?” Diaz asked Marphissa.

“Yes, it does,” Marphissa replied. “I talked about this once with someone who had encountered it. Transmitters at fortified bases are buried beneath the surface so they won’t be destroyed, but in order to send a message, they require antenna links leading up to the surface. Barrages that destroy objects on the surface will break the links, so that even though the transmitter still works, it cannot get a signal through the rock above it.”

“Is that what happens?” Diaz asked. “I never thought about that.”

“Of course not! Up here, we never have to deal with that problem unless we’re trying to send a message straight through a planet, and how often does a planet block our line of sight to another ship or planet without any other ships or objects to relay the transmission?” Marphissa jerked her chin at her display. “That’s how they tricked us here. We’re used to seeing everything that’s out there, being able to talk to anything. We don’t think in terms of hidden enemies or obstacles, not unless we’re really close to a planet.”

“I can promise you,” Diaz said, “that I will be thinking much more about those things from now on.”

“You and me both.” Marphissa switched her attention back to the image of the captured enemy base and the area around it. “As soon as we can spot targets, we’ll plan the bombardment. We don’t have many bombardment projectiles left, but maybe we’ll find something worth taking a shot at.”

They were five minutes out from the planet when the combined data from the sensors on the Hunter-Killers and Marphissa’s cruisers finally produced a partial but ugly picture. “Lots of ground forces in the open, here and here,” Diaz noted.

“Yes. It looks like a lot more on this side, though. All of the other areas around the base have some soldiers, but they’re spread out.” Marphissa reached out, touching several spots not far from the base where the masses of enemy soldiers were heading.
What if I am wrong? What if those are Drakon’s soldiers, making a last-ditch attempt to take the base? But there are so many of them.