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Authors: Ian Douglas
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within the military and political hierarchies back home but frequently ignored: a twenty-two-ton fighter could disable a capital ship a kilometer long and massing millions of tons. The trick was in slipping it in exactly where it would be most effective, with enough firepower to overcome the target’s gravitic shielding. Surgical precision , as Giraurd had put it, made possible by advanced technology, was the only means by which a lone gravfighter could take down a far larger foe.
Something of the sort would be necessary if the Terran Confederation was going to win over the Sh’daar.
“The intent was to stop you, Admiral,” Koenig said. “Not hurt you.”
“I could wish, sir, that you had destroyed the Jeanne d’Arc . . . and me with her.”
Giraurd’s emotional pain showed for a moment, but Koenig ignored it. The man would have to explain his failure later, in front of the Senate Military Directorate. It might even mean the end of his career.
Welcome to the club , Koenig thought.
“Do you anticipate any problem getting the Jeanne d’Arc ready for Alcubierre Drive?”
“No. The damage is superficial. But we will need to take on water.”
“Of course. And this is the place for it.”
Fleet tugs were already jockeying iceteroids in so that the ships of CBG-18 could drink their fill. The Kuiper Belt of any star was the storage freezer for leftovers from that star system’s creation. Asteroids, comet nuclei, icy Kuiper objects like Pluto and Eris back in the home solar system . . . they drifted out here in centuries-long orbits and at temperatures a few degrees above zero absolute, with the local sun merely the brightest star in a sky filled with stars. Chunks of ice were nuzzled in close to resupply ships, which injected them with self-replicating nanodisassemblers. These, in turn, broke the ice down into fragments a few microns across, separated out the frozen methane, ammonia, and other contaminants, and transported pure water into the shield-cap tanks of the waiting ships. As quickly as one hundred-meter iceteroid had dwindled away, another was moved in to take its place; a quarter of CBG-18’s ships had already been topped off, and the rest would be refueled within four more days.
“As soon as the European contingent has been watered,” Koenig continued, “you can take them back to Sol. It’s a fifty-four-day flight under Alcubierre Drive back to Sol, so you’ll be home by early June. I’ve already spoken with the commanding officers of the other ships. The USNA flotilla will be joining me.”
“And the Chinese?”
Koenig smiled. “They’re still considering the question. Their orders were to support your operations against me . . . but I suspect they also have orders to keep an eye on what we’re doing out here.”
Beijing, Koenig thought, might well be interested in a separate peace with the Sh’daar, and if so, they needed to keep track of what Koenig’s expeditionary force was doing. The nine-ship Eastern Dawn Hegemon fleet might still decide to accompany the America battlegroup.
How well he could trust them when they did encounter Sh’daar forces was another matter, and one he would address when it came up. The Zheng He and her fighters would be welcome additions to the fleet, however, the next time they met the enemy.
“And where will you be going?” Giraurd asked. “If you’re willing to tell me, of course.”
Koenig considered the question. He didn’t want the politicians on Earth to be too up to date on his plans. He didn’t want CBG-18 to emerge at a target star system and find a Confederation fleet—one larger, better prepared, and more determined than Giraurd’s squadron—waiting for him there.
On the other hand, the next stop on his agenda, taken from the Turusch Directory, was a star called Texaghu Resch, located 133 light years ahead, and some 210 light years from Sol. Even if Giraurd shot the news of Koenig’s planned destination back to Sol on a
Something of the sort would be necessary if the Terran Confederation was going to win over the Sh’daar.
“The intent was to stop you, Admiral,” Koenig said. “Not hurt you.”
“I could wish, sir, that you had destroyed the Jeanne d’Arc . . . and me with her.”
Giraurd’s emotional pain showed for a moment, but Koenig ignored it. The man would have to explain his failure later, in front of the Senate Military Directorate. It might even mean the end of his career.
Welcome to the club , Koenig thought.
“Do you anticipate any problem getting the Jeanne d’Arc ready for Alcubierre Drive?”
“No. The damage is superficial. But we will need to take on water.”
“Of course. And this is the place for it.”
Fleet tugs were already jockeying iceteroids in so that the ships of CBG-18 could drink their fill. The Kuiper Belt of any star was the storage freezer for leftovers from that star system’s creation. Asteroids, comet nuclei, icy Kuiper objects like Pluto and Eris back in the home solar system . . . they drifted out here in centuries-long orbits and at temperatures a few degrees above zero absolute, with the local sun merely the brightest star in a sky filled with stars. Chunks of ice were nuzzled in close to resupply ships, which injected them with self-replicating nanodisassemblers. These, in turn, broke the ice down into fragments a few microns across, separated out the frozen methane, ammonia, and other contaminants, and transported pure water into the shield-cap tanks of the waiting ships. As quickly as one hundred-meter iceteroid had dwindled away, another was moved in to take its place; a quarter of CBG-18’s ships had already been topped off, and the rest would be refueled within four more days.
“As soon as the European contingent has been watered,” Koenig continued, “you can take them back to Sol. It’s a fifty-four-day flight under Alcubierre Drive back to Sol, so you’ll be home by early June. I’ve already spoken with the commanding officers of the other ships. The USNA flotilla will be joining me.”
“And the Chinese?”
Koenig smiled. “They’re still considering the question. Their orders were to support your operations against me . . . but I suspect they also have orders to keep an eye on what we’re doing out here.”
Beijing, Koenig thought, might well be interested in a separate peace with the Sh’daar, and if so, they needed to keep track of what Koenig’s expeditionary force was doing. The nine-ship Eastern Dawn Hegemon fleet might still decide to accompany the America battlegroup.
How well he could trust them when they did encounter Sh’daar forces was another matter, and one he would address when it came up. The Zheng He and her fighters would be welcome additions to the fleet, however, the next time they met the enemy.
“And where will you be going?” Giraurd asked. “If you’re willing to tell me, of course.”
Koenig considered the question. He didn’t want the politicians on Earth to be too up to date on his plans. He didn’t want CBG-18 to emerge at a target star system and find a Confederation fleet—one larger, better prepared, and more determined than Giraurd’s squadron—waiting for him there.
On the other hand, the next stop on his agenda, taken from the Turusch Directory, was a star called Texaghu Resch, located 133 light years ahead, and some 210 light years from Sol. Even if Giraurd shot the news of Koenig’s planned destination back to Sol on a
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