John Ringo: Eye of the Storm

A karat had appeared, off-center to the right, and Frederick revved the engine of the Leopard then started towards it. He was still driving in utter blackness lit only by occasional flashes of lightning. And the ground was beyond rough, the panzer repeatedly dropping into craters that were, fortunately, easy enough to drive out of.

“Slow, here, Schutze,” Harz said as additional icons started popping up. “We’re reaching the assembly point.”

The karat began to shift to the left and Frederick followed it slavishly. He realized after a moment that it was taking him down some sort of path. The path seemed to have nothing to do with the ground but as the other icons moved it occurred to him that the unit was being arrayed.

He considered the icons for a moment then then shook his head. Several panzers were missing including that of the company commander.

“Stop,” Harz said. “And now, we wait.”

“For what?” Adler asked.

“To see who else made it.”

“We made it,” Daisy said.

From the outside there was little to see. Space was immense and even the best visual tracking systems had a hard time noting the brief flicker of starlight.

And just in case, the Des Moines had emerged in the visual shadow of a Jovian.

“Range to normal warp insertion for the Imeg ship is at nine light seconds,” the navigational officer said. “Recommend seven grav acceleration at 218 mark neg 12. That will put us in a swing around the sub-polar region of the jovian and on line to intercept. If they’re on time. If not, we can park in a Lagrange orbit and wait.”

“Do it,” Captain McNair said. He’d been studying his ass off on this space shit but it still didn’t come naturally. And he didn’t like that. He knew, as a captain, he had to understand every nuance of the environment. Unfortunately, he was still at heart a wet sailor. Three dimensions still sort of screwed with him. Fortunately, it didn’t screw with Daisy. “I’m moving to the Battle Room. Inform me if there’s any change.”

“Coming with you,” Daisy said.

“Absolutely,” Jeff replied, grinning.

Technically, the compartment two decks below the bridge was called CIC, Combat Information Center. But Jeff had grown up in the days when it was simply called ‘The Battle Room.’ It was where the guns were controlled from and the radar and lookout information was received. He supposed ‘Combat Information Center’ made sense but just as he damned well had called the crew to ‘Battle Stations’, not ‘Condition One’, he called it ‘The Battle Room.’ His new crew was just going to have to adjust.

“Any indications of cloaked ships?” he asked as he entered the compartment.

The center of the compartment was a large holographic display of the immediate area. It could be zoomed in and out but generally was held as a bubble ranging out from the ship’s location to ten light seconds in every direction.

“Negative, sir,” the Tactical Officer replied.

“And our friend?” Jeff asked, taking his seat and strapping in. The flex helmet for his suit was compressed into a small ball at the back of his neck. In the event of loss of air it would automatically deploy.

“Right on time,” the TACO replied, using a light-wand to indicate the approaching ship.

“You know, I had a buddy back in the War,” Jeff said. “That would be World War Two for you youngsters. He somehow got shanghaied into the commandoes that went over to mess with the Jerries. He said that one reason the Jerry sentries were so easy to kill was that they were just so damned regular. You could time their sentry beat to the second. Take that as a lesson, Lieutenant. Being absolutely regular in your actions is not a good thing in war.”

“Yes, sir,” the TACO said, trying not to shake his head.

“Daisy, connect me to the mentats, please.”

“Online,” Daisy said.

“Mentat Kang,” Jeff said. “Imeg ship is on course and we’re about to enter detection range. One hour to intercept. Time for you to work your magic.”

Can you sense the ship? Mentat Shaina asked.

There are several , Sissy replied. But that must be the one.

Powerful , Kang thought. Very powerful sohon.

Note the particles , Shaina thought. Note the build-up of energy associated with their acceleration, the flex of the universe at their increase in mass. Even with our cloak, we give off traces. We must eliminate every trace. And we must do it invisibly. We do not want the Imeg sensing us as we sense it.

I must go ready my team, Kang thought. Ensure no trace.

We will do our very best, Shaina replied.

“You up for this, Skank?” Redman asked as he strapped into his seat.

The three Banshee shuttles were lined up and prepared for launch. As the teams approached they spread out, distributing themselves so that if one of the shuttles was destroyed on approach, at least some of the teams would make it to the ship. The mission was still a go if they lost one shuttle. Two was an abort.

The interior of the shuttles was tight. Four ranks of seats ran down its interior, two outboard and two inboard. The boarders faced each other, knees interlocked. What with body armor, suits, battle-rattle and weapons, there wasn’t enough room to swing a mouse much less a cat.

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Adept Pawle replied, calmly. “I can sense the power of the Imeg even here. It is powerful. Very powerful. And that is not the only problem… ”

“There are two Imeg on the ship,” Kang said, his eyes closed and apparently meditating. “One is a mentat in truth. Very powerful. The other… barely an adept. But he will still be a problem.”

“We’ve got, what? Sixteen sohon adepts and mentats?” Jake replied, his eyes closed as well. “Surely you guys can keep two under control.”

“Colonel Mosovich,” Kang replied. “Were I using sohon, and I assuredly am not, I’m not sure that the Imeg would notice me from this distance. However, it is impossible to miss. I do not want to reduce your confidence, but the relative disparity of force is that of, say, a battlecruiser to a battleship. We have two battlecruisers, a couple of cruisers and a dozen destroyers.”

“Well, you guys better think about what it takes to become battleships, then,” Jake replied. “It’ll work out. And if it don’t, we’ll hardly know it.”

Mentat Shaina and two of the lower level Indowy had taken up positions in the Battle Room.

Jeff was keeping one eye on the battle holo and one on the Indowy. But there wasn’t much to see in the latter case. The Indowy didn’t do a lotus when they were meditating; they knelt with their hands crossed, palms upwards and eyes closed. They’d been that way for the last forty-five minutes with no real change.

“We are detected,” Shaina said. “Mentat Harris is closing down their communications. I shall be busy. Thuthiri will communicate.”

“Close the target,” Jeff snapped. “Prepare to launch shuttles. Open fire all secondary weapons.”

“What class of ship is that?” Cruiser Master Goglugot said. “And where did it come from?”

Goglugot was a Kotha, as were most ship masters, the commander of the Gorongur. He had made this same run a dozen times so far and was less than pleased. He knew well the axiom of war that one should never develop a pattern. But the Imeg were less than interested in input from a lowly Cruiser Master. The Imeg loved order. Order was the way of the Hedren. So over and over again he had left on the identical schedule and entered warp at the identical point and now he was about to be fucked for it.