Bunch, Chris & Cole, Allan - Sten 6 by Bunch Chris

Author:Bunch, Chris
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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ll nightmares end. Eventually the last of the pirated AM2 was loaded onto the transports, and the 23rd Fleet could lift for Al-Sufi and then home base.

But even escaping, men died. A Honjo had positioned a booby trap, fused with a pressure-release device under one freighter. It went off when the freighter lifted, and the blast took out two more cargo ships and one of the destroyers providing overhead cover.

Just out-atmosphere an Imperial corvette was sniped. An offplanet Honjo lighter had mounted a single missile on its cargo deck, managed to infiltrate through the fleet cover, and waited. The missile killed the corvette, and one of Gregor's cruisers blew the lighter and crew into nothingness. But by that time killing Honjo—in greater or lesser quantities—was no longer thought a victory. It was merely a duty that might—but probably would not—stave off one's own death for a few hours.

Admiral Gregor ordered the fleet into a standard convoy formation. It was by-the-book but not tactically bad. It looked like a three-dimensional mushroom with a base. The mushroom's "stem" was the transport train, with light cover outside the main formation. The mushroom's "cap" was his heavies, with destroyers and cruisers screening to the front. The base was two heavy-cruiser squadrons with their screens, giving rear security. They should have been unnecessary—but they were potentially vital.

That was just part of the bad news Gregor gloomed over at his battle computer. The only data he had was bad, with one exception: fuel.

His fleet AM2 chambers were at full battle load—probably the only ships in space these days that were, Gregor thought. In theory that should have meant he could have ignored the council's economy dictum and ordered full battle speed toward Al-Sufi. Well, if not full battle, then at least to whatever max drivespeed the transports were capable of.

He could not. His fleet had taken too much damage in the Honjo's guerrilla raids. Damage ranged from hull integrity to warped drive chambers to blown tubes to almost anything the Honjo's ingenuity had come up with to destroy or cripple the Imperials. Two cruisers had even been slaved together and given external emergency drive from one of Gregor's tenders.

His fleet was limping—limping at many multiples of lightspeed, but still limping. Which meant that the 23rd Fleet was vulnerable to a stern attack.

Gregor considered abandoning any units that could not hold top transport

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speed. Then he shuddered and decided against that course. He would face enough flak as it was.

He decided that the only salvation his career had was returning to Al-Sufi with the AM2—all the AM2. That might keep him his flag. Maybe.

Scowling, he scrolled on. The siege-that-was-not had been incredibly expensive:

Crew casualties, all categories: twenty-seven percent.

Ship casualties, all categories: thirty-five percent.

That, factored into his already-dismal combat-readiness factor before invading…

Gregor did not want to run the figures.

A second admiral was no happier with the state of the universe.

Fleet Admiral Fraser sat grounded, along with her command, on three of the Al-Sufi worlds.

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