Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

"Fleet status?" Lleshi called.

"The Balaniki and Macedonia have formed up on our aft flanks," the fleet operations officer said.

"Support vessels are standing by in formation. All ships report green."

Lleshi nodded. Standard textbook attack procedure was to send a wave of fighters, blast ships, and mine-sweepers into a system ahead of the main war vessels, both to soften up the first wave of resistance and to have full tactical sensor data ready to download to the fleet commander when the flagship finally made its appearance.

But this was the Komitadji, and the Komitadji didn't hide behind support ships. Once the doomsday pods had done their job, they would be the first ship through.

A warning note trilled: the first pod was touching the catapult's focal ellipsoid, its tugs backing away from it with orderly haste. "Pod One ready," Campbell announced.

Lleshi nodded. "Scintara catapult, launch Pod One."

The pod flickered and was gone. "Move Pod Two into position," Lleshi ordered, glancing at the chronometer. "Ninety seconds."

The men in the tugs were good. Less than seventy seconds after Pod One had disappeared, Pod Two had been nudged into the edge of the ellipsoid. Twenty seconds later, it followed its brother into the void. Three minutes after that, Pods Three and Four had likewise been sent on their way.

The first phase was over. It was time now to see if all the time and effort—and yes, all of Telthorst's precious money—had indeed bought the Pax the foothold it coveted in Empyreal space. "Move us in, helm," he ordered, alternating his attention between the chrono and the nav display. If Pod Three had blown on schedule, the primary and secondary blast and radiation waves should have now washed over the Pax asteroid. The sensors there would have noted the event...

On the display, the flashing yellow light flicked to green. "Net activated," Campbell announced.

Lleshi shifted his full attention back to the chrono. Theoretically it had activated, anyway. Whether it had actually done so they wouldn't know until they reached Lorelei space.

"Commodore, the net is green," Telthorst prompted.

"I heard, thank you," Lleshi said.

"The energy wave front has passed the net," Telthorst persisted, an edge starting to creep into his voice. "We don't want to give them time to pull themselves together."

"I'm aware of the tactical considerations," Lleshi said, continuing to watch the seconds tick past. The explosion's main wave front would indeed be well past the asteroid by now, but there would also be slower but still dangerous debris expanding outward behind that front. He gave it a few more seconds, then nodded toward the comm officer. "Scintara Catapult, launch when ready."

The stars disappeared.

Automatically, Lleshi counted down the seconds, muscles tight with tension. If the scheme hadn't worked, the Komitadji would soon be going on yet another trip to the edge of nowhere. The stars returned...

The scheme had worked. Instead of the distant triangular-pyramid array of Empyreal catapult ships they'd encountered their last time into this system, there was only the false asteroid concealing their own net floating off their starboard stern.

"Incoming!" Campbell snapped.

Lleshi shifted his eyes to the tactical as the collision alert warbled across the bridge. But it was not, as first reflexes had assumed, an attack by survivors of the doomsday pod. It was, instead, a scattering of asteroid fragments sweeping like retreating soldiers across the sky. Three of the shards, according to the tactical, were on a direct course for the Komitadji.

It was far too late for the big ship to maneuver to avoid them. Gripping the arms of his chair, Lleshi braced himself; and with a thundering crunch of metal, the pieces slammed into the hull, shattering to gravel with the impact.

"Damage report," he called, peering at the hull monitors as the debris ricocheted off into oblivion.

He needn't have worried. The Komitadji was the ultimate warship, with the ultimate elephant's hide to match. Even a high-speed encounter with bits of flying asteroid seemed to have done little more than dent the outer hull. "And locate the nearest blastpoint," he added. "Scan for enemy ships or bases."

"Damage report, Commodore," the comm officer called. "Partial collapse of Number One hull at three points in sectors A-22 and A-31; no breech. Light impact damage to Number Two hull in the same sectors; no reduction in structural integrity. Number Three hull unaffected. Four sensor nodes are out of commission; minor concussion damage to various pieces of equipment in portside locations."

"Acknowledged," Lleshi said, looking at the back of Telthorst's head. "I see we didn't wait at Scintara quite long enough, after all."

Telthorst didn't reply, or even bother to turn around. "Still," Lleshi couldn't resist adding as he turned back to the business at hand, "it's good to know the designers of the Komitadji's hull spent their money well."

"I have the blastpoint now, sir," the sensor officer called.

Lleshi had seen the computer-projected results of a doomsday pod explosion several times, most recently during the planning sessions for this invasion. But he had never seen the actual aftermath of the weapon until now.

On a planet, it would undoubtedly have been an awesome vision of destruction and carnage; a strategic hydrogen warhead multiplied by a thousand. Here, in the middle of an asteroid field, the results were more subtle but just as real.

And, in their own way, just as horrible.

For a thousand kilometers around where the Empyreal net had been, space was empty. Completely and totally empty. Every solid object within that sphere, be it asteroid, sandwich-metal-hulled combat ship, or fragile human body, had been disintegrated down to its component particles. Outside that zone, everything else seemed to be in motion, with small chunks of rock hurling outward and even large asteroids now carrying a vector component away from the point of the blast. Each of the asteroids the telescope screen was able to get a clear view of seemed partially shattered or half melted.

"Move us out of the net area," Lleshi ordered the helm, feeling oddly ill. "What about Lorelei's kickpod catapults?"

"There was one with each net," Campbell said. He sounded as awed as Lleshi felt, though there was no indication of the disquiet the commodore himself was feeling. "There's also the one near Lorelei itself."

The tactical display shifted to a projected schematic of the planet Lorelei, showing the small catapult in high polar orbit around it. Simultaneously, one of the telescope displays lit up with a slightly fuzzy real-time view. "The light from the nearest pod explosion will reach Lorelei in about three minutes," Campbell went on. "That will be the first they'll know about our attack."

And the enemy's first act ought to be to put a quick alert message together and get a kick pod out to that catapult. "Run a confirmation on the catapult location," Lleshi ordered. On one of the aft displays, the Balaniki flickered into view as it was caught in the Pax net. "What about the main catapult?"

"It's orbiting ahead of Lorelei in the planet's leading Lagrange point," Campbell said. "A pretty good distance out; they won't be able to get a ship there very quickly."

Provided there weren't any ships already on the way. But there was nothing Lleshi could do about that. Besides, with the Pax net now the only door into Lorelei system, it wasn't nearly as critical that word of the invasion be delayed.

Still, the more time they had to consolidate their position, the better. Reaching over, he punched his direct feed to the Balaniki. "Captain Horvak?"

"Yes, sir," Horvak replied briskly. "Thunderhead is loaded and ready, awaiting your orders. If the Empyreals are still on the same schedule, their most recent kick pod went out half an hour ago."