7

 

Governor General Masayoshi Nagumo scowled at the image of Admiral Kodo on the comscreen. The time delay between Verthandi and Verthandi-Alpha was less than four-tenths of a second, but twice that was needed to make the transmission and to receive the reply. The almost one-second delay acted as an unwelcome drag on extended conversations.

The worst part of it, Nagumo decided, was that he could not choose the moment at which to explosively interrupt a subordinate in mid-apology or explanation. Here was Kodo, for example, talking for almost a full second before Nagumo's acid, single-word commentary could cut off the Admiral's complaint about the low level of initiative and efficiency among the members of the Combine garrison stationed on Verthandi-Alpha. The delay was a short one, but enough to irritate an already-irritated Governor General.

"The situation is notroutine," Nagumo said, once Kodo had fallen silent. Around him, the Techs and staff in the Regis Command Center also listened apprehensively. "I am gratified, at least, that you had enough daring and initiative to order a patrol to check out the intruder. That is, after all, the purpose of a blockade, is it not?"The last words were thrust at Kodo's bald image, like edged weapons.

"Yes, my Lord." Kodo was sweating heavily, the overhead fluoros in his office gleaming from his moist scalp. "I...I felt it my duty to position our patrol, with a heavy back-up, to check the intruder carefully, and to be in position to block him from Verthandi, just in case. He cannot possibly avoid us."

"Good. You will take precautions that the intruder not be allowed closer than 70,000 kilometers to Verthandi. When it lands at Verthandi-Alpha, I want your Techs to take that ship apart if necessary to search for contraband or hidden passengers. The cargo is to be reloaded and transhipped here on one of our DropShips. Understood?"

"Y-yes, my Lord."

Nagumo nodded, but his scowl deepened. Kodo had proved himself incompetent in having only a single patrol—a LeopardClass named Xao,and two fighters—in a position where they could approach the intruder. Two more fighters were in close orbit around Verthandi and could be deployed if the intruder broke free of the outer patrol and made a run for the planet. Other fighters and another DropShip were being readied now at Verthandi-Alpha's base in case the intruder's object was a sneak raid on the planet's moon.

Too many possibilities remained. The intruder should have been intercepted farther from Verthandi, hours ago when the blockading force had more options and more time to exercise them. At that point, the intruder would have been travelling at a higher speed, of course, and so more fuel would have been needed for an intercept, but certainly that was preferable to gambling all in the last handful of hours before the in-bound vessel hit Verthandi's atmosphere. The ships that were in place oughtto be sufficient to handle the threat, but... damnKodo!

Nagumo clenched his jaw. It was too late now for recriminations, nor could he choose a replacement for Kodo at the moment. "Very well," was all he said. "How long until visual contact is made?"

"Patrol One-Nine has the intruder in sight, Lord. It will be another few minutes before they close enough to make out details."

"I am putting all space defense forces on full alert. Maintain an open line to this office. I want to listen directly to the communications between your patrol and the intruder."

"Yes, my Lord."

Minutescrawled. The intruder was approaching Verthandi from the system's zenith point, to sunward, and was now some 200,000 kilometers out, somewhat above the plane of the ecliptic. Verthandi-Alpha was on the opposite side of Verthandi from the approaching DropShip. Was that deliberate? Nagumo wondered. In any case, the intruder would have to be escorted past Verthandi and to a safe grounding on the moon.

A voice half-smothered in static cut through the command center. "What the hell is that thing?"

The terminal screen of the Tech seated in front of Nagumo glowed with the traceries of voice patterns and stress analysis. Quick-flowing words of light identified the speaker as Lieutenant Kestrel Syrnan, pilot of the lead patrol fighter. Other data showed vector, range, and scan data. The target itself appeared on another screen, relayed by the Shilone'son-board cameras to the DropShip Xao,and thence to receivers on Verthandi and Verthandi-Alpha.

"I'm reading a normal scan. Lieutenant. Radar profile and computer ID make her to be a Union Class,3500 tons. She could be one of ours." That voice was Smetnov, the wingman. Stress patterns flared. Though his voice was unnaturally calm, the instruments measuring the stress in his tone betrayed his fear. This, Nagumo had learned, was Smetnov's first active patrol sighting.

"I know what the computer says, Pilot," Syrnan replied. His voice was showing stress too, though it was well-controlled. "But she just doesn't feel right, somehow."

Nagumo studied the TV image transmitted from Syrnan's ship. The screen showed a dully-reflective, metallic globe, rust-streaked and worn. On one flank was the black-on-scarlet circled dragon, emblem of the Combine. Chinese ideographs picked out the vessel's name— Li Tao—and the name of her parent vessel, Chi Lung.

A confusion of voices intruded on the radio link. Nagumo heard someone—a woman, he thought—speaking with rapid urgency, and then Kodo's bark, "Get her out of here!"

"Kodo! What's going on?"

The Admiral's voice came over the speaker. "Nothing, my Lord. One of my junior officers chose an inopportune moment to present a courier message."

Syrnan was right. That vessel didn't feel right. There was something missing...what? "What message?" Nagumo demanded.

"My Lord, it is nothing."

"Read it to me!"

"Uh..." There were muttered sounds and confused background noises as the image of the intruder grew larger. What was odd about that vessel?

There! It was difficult to see in the orange-dim light of Norn, but the vessel was rotating slightly, and the play of shadow against the hull cried out to Nagumo's experienced eye. That DropShip was no Unionclass. The particle projection cannons normally mounted on bow and flanks were missing. Paint had been artfully applied to imitate the weapons' shadows, but now that the ship had rolled, the angle of light made the disguise less convincing. There should be autocannons, too, but the vessel had none.

"My Lord!" Kodo's voice was urgent. "It's from one of our agents on Galatea! 'Report mercenary unit probably in employ of rebels en route to Verthandi.'"

"It's a trick!" Nagumo shouted. "Relay command here, my authority! Attack! Attack the intruder!"

The fighter pilot had already arrived at the same conclusion. Long fractions of seconds before Nagumo's command could have reached him, his own order was heard at the command center. "Smetnov! Overthrust! Punch it!" The TV image was lost as the Shilonefighter wheeled and accelerated at a gruelling four Gs.

"Emergency! Emergency!" Syrnan's voice was frantic now. "Flight One-Niner to base ship! Intruder is hostile. Repeat, hostile! Intruder now changing course to zero-zero-three mark fiver, at two Gs!"

Nagumo glanced up as the static hiss from the overhead speakers chopped off. "What's happening, dammit?"

"Transmission interrupted," a Tech said. "Contact lost with both elements of One-Nine. Xaoconfirms the intruder's new course." The Tech glanced up at Nagumo, his face pale under the center's harsh lighting. "The intruder is accelerating toward Verthandi, Lord."