"We have, at this moment over three hundred inbound strike craft, Commander, a mix of Kola class fighters and Gomora class heavy strike bombers. The first wave will hit our outer defense perimeter in twenty-seven minutes."
"They're moving damn fast," Vance interjected.
"Four of them slowed down in less than a minute to nail a light corvette that was halfway up to the jump point on a routine patrol. Just before we lost the ship they reported that all the strike craft had strap-on boosters."
"And the capital ships?" Turner asked.
She hit the hand control unit again and the holo field displayed an overhead projection of the system, showing McAuliffe and jump point Alpha. A tight red bundle of blips appeared near the jump point, with half a dozen blips strung out in line and moving down into the system.
"Five carriers, two battleships forward. They've got a stream of craft still coming through. Four more battleships, eight cruisers so far, and two heavy-assault transports."
"That's not the fleet we spotted," Turner said, looking back at Geoff and Vance. "This is the main strike right here. The other fleet must be hitting the Landreich like we figured."
Turner walked around the holo field and then turned to face Valeri.
"Are you the senior officer on board?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where's Captain Mifune?"
"Still down on McAuliffe, sir. Last report was that he commandeered a Hurricane, but traffic on Johnson Island is shot to hell. There was a bad crash on the primary runway. It'll be at least forty-five minutes before he gets up."
"Are the engines on-line?"
"We'll be up and running-" she hesitated and looked over at the engineering display," — in thirty-two minutes sir."
"Your orders from Captain Mifune?"
"Wait for his arrival. Admiral Long has ordered all ships to undock, but to stay inside the area of the orbital base shielding."
"Any other signal traffic?"
"We intercepted the translight burst from the CIC, sir. Also an encrypt from Rear Admiral Dayan's task force. They are approaching jump point Delta but are still nearly ten hours out."
"Dayan's coming? Thank God, what does she have?"
"Two wagons, and carrier Ark Royal, plus escorts."
"Damn," Turner whispered, "not enough by a long sight." He drew a deep breath. "Valeri, you were a damn good student of mine twelve years ago. You remember the Panama war game?"
She smiled and looked over at the holo field. "We've got it right here. They've got a shield-busting weapon, there's no mistake. Otherwise they wouldn't be attacking like this."
"I'll take the heat for this," Turner said quietly and then he drew himself up so that he was standing at attention. "Lieutenant Commander Valeri Olson, by the power of Fleet Regulation Seventeen I am hereby taking command of this ship as the senior officer on board in a time of crisis."
A flicker of a smile creased Olson's features. She looked over at a chief petty officer who was standing by the main console.
"Chief, you have heard Commander Turner's orders. I acknowledge Commander Turner's authority and hereby relinquish command of Concordia. Note the time, Chief."
Geoff watched the formalized ritual as it was played out amidst the confusion of the bridge. There was but a momentary pause as the several dozen enlisted and commissioned personnel observed what was happening, then went back to their desperate effort to bring Concordia on-line.
Olson saluted, then handed over the holo field controller. Turner acknowledged the salute.
"How many personnel are not on board?"
"We have just over forty percent on board at this moment, sir."
"Pilots?"
"Twenty-nine out of eighty-three, sir."
Turner went over to the main board and looked around for a mike. The chief petty officer, as if sensing what the new captain wanted, unclipped one from the console and handed it to him.
"Switch me onto the main ship system," Turner asked, and the petty officer hit a button.
"This is Commander Turner speaking. I was on McAuliffe on special assignment from Admiral Banbridge. Those of you from the Academy might remember me." He hesitated, knowing the image he had for many as the woolly professor. To hell with classified information, and besides, it was twenty years ago. "I should add that, prior to that, I was commander of Marine Commando Six, so I do have combat experience."
He waited for several seconds, then pressed on. "As senior officer aboard I have formally taken command of this ship until such time as the executive officer or captain return on board. As you know, the Kilrathi have launched a sneak attack. In less than thirty minutes their fighters and bombers will hit the outer shield area. We have reason to believe they might have weapons capable of penetrating our shields."
He waited for what he had said to sink in.
"If we stay here, Concordia will be destroyed. We are therefore going to power this ship up, get out into open space, and fight this ship the way it was meant to be fought. I will be honest with you. We might not live through this day, but if we are fated to die, Concordia will go down fighting and we will take some of the bastards with us!"
Geoff could hear a defiant, angry cheer erupt in the ship, to be picked up by the personnel in the combat center.
"All pilots, man your planes, prepare for launch the moment we clear base shielding."
Turner clicked the mike off. There was a moment of silence and then the crew set back to their work.
"Richards, Tolwyn."
Turner motioned for them to come over. "Vance, head down to the flight deck. Grab a free plane."
Richards grinned, saluted and left the room.
Turner looked at Geoff as if weighing a decision.
"Have you ever handled a Wildcat?"
"Only in the simulator, sir."
Turner nodded. "I could use you here, son, but what do you want?"
Geoff took the information in. He knew that, even in the full simulator, his time was limited. The Fleet usually expected a minimum of five hundred hours of flight time on a Wildcat before they'd assign a new pilot to a combat wing. And yet, if he did stay here, a decision that no one would really question, he knew that he would question it for the rest of his life.
"I'd like to take a crack at the bastards, sir."
What looked like infinite sadness clouded Turner's features, and Geoff realized that the commander felt as if he was allowing yet another young man to go to certain death.
"A hell of a lot of good people are going to die today, sir," Geoff said. "I'll be in good company."
Turner could not reply. Rather than salute he extended his hand.
Geoff shook it, stepped back, saluted, then sprinted from the bridge.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mcauliffe
"My Lord, the leading edge of the strike should be closing now!"
The Crown Prince said nothing in reply. Speculative talk was a waste of breath at this moment. He realized that in the next hour he would either emerge as the greatest hunter in the history of the Empire, or would be dead by his own hand. He had felt such supreme confidence in his plan, and especially in this particular aspect, the strike to destroy the main base of the Confederation and the carrier fleet stationed there. Yet so much could go wrong, in fact had gone wrong. The loss of the carrier in the jump had deprived him of nearly a fifth of all his strike craft. Targets were being reassigned even as the attack went in, which was adding to the confusion. It was a crucial reserve that might affect plans after the attack.
Nargth was dragging his heels as well. The battleships were lagging behind, the admiral claiming that he wanted proper tactical formation. None of the strike wave craft were equipped with burst signal capability.