Genellan 03 First Victory by Scott G. Gier

Author:Scott G. Gier [Gier, Scott G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty25 Return to Pitcairn

A telescopy image projected from the main status board, a dun sphere marbled in dull green and dingy white. Runacres shook his mind clear of hyperlight effects. He concentrated on the planet’s image and waited, his breathing loud in his battle helmet.

"Jump exit complete," Wells reported quietly. "All ships alpha-alpha. Emission control status one. Defensive condition one."

The Tellurian Legion fleet was returned to Pitcairn System, deep in the Red Zone. Synthesized computer outputs, designed to be soothing and nonintrusive, were loud and harsh compared to the muted tones of human circuit-talkers.

"Just another walk in the park." The familiar drawl came over the command circuit.

Runacres glanced at his comm-vid. Sarah Merriwether’s image stared back; her stolid countenance, lined and spaceworn, buttressed his courage. She smiled, and he was whole.

"Maintain the primary battle watch," Runacres replied, shifting his gaze back to the status boards. There was nothing at which to stare; all active sensors were choked off—the screens were blank. His ships emitted no radars, no broad-band lasers, no electromagnetics of any kind. The fleet was not emitting, but it was listening—and watching; powerful telescopes scanned all objects in their detection range; motion detectors and full-spectrum analyzers passively processed the ethers of Pitcairn System. Every ear in the fleet listened, every nerve tensed, waiting for threat alarms to sound.

"Transmission delay to Pitcairn Two calculated by parallax at two point five seconds," reported the science duty officer.

"Very well," Runacres replied.

"Scientist Dowornobb," Runacres demanded, "are you reading anything?" The transmission to the konish scientist aboard Novaya Zemlya was by low-power laser.

"No-ah, Admiral," Dowornobb’s grainy visage filled Runacres’s comm-vid. "I detect-ah no hyperlight flux."

Seconds blinked off the chronometers. Navigation displays revealed incipient motion vectors as Runacres’s motherships began slowly to accelerate into the gravity well, minding the irrefutable attraction of heavenly bodies.

"Science," Runacres barked, "what are we seeing?"

"Planets and moons, Admiral," Captain Katz reported, appearing on comm-vid. "Emissions are extremely light. A tittering of microwave intercepts and some on-planet LF hits plus the normal meteorological and tectonic static. P-Two has a satellite constellation, but it’s painting inward—probably communication or resource imaging with no search or targeting lobes. It’s real quiet, Admiral. I don’t believe there are any other ships in the neighborhood."

"Perhaps they’re all on the other side," Carmichael offered.

"Statistically unlikely," Katz replied.

"Time will tell," Merriwether drawled.

Runacres glanced at his comm-vid. His mothership captain was busy supervising her bridge watch.

"This is close enough, Franklin," Runacres declared. "Establish orbit."

"Aye, Admiral," Wells replied, punching in the fleet vector. On Eire’s peak, from a mast above the antennae farm, a gang of laser beacons flashed a directed pattern of microbursts.

"Signal’s in the air," the tactical officer reported.

The pipe of Eire’s watch boatswain sounded sonorously. Runacres shifted uneasily in his tethers. Firing impulse drives would generate an active signal, and a loud one. He prayed his fleet was far enough removed from Ulaggi sensors that the maneuvers would not be detected.

"Make ship ready for fleet maneuver," the boatswain droned. "Tether down; secure all loose gear. Now impulse maneuvers.

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