It was shaky, the Sartha pilot incompetent, and overcontrolling his ship as he attempted to line up on the Ferret. But there, clearly visible, were three ships. He froze the image and looked back at his intelligence officer.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, sire. Magnification of the image confirms that it is Tarawa, one of their new class of light carriers,” and the intelligence officer ran off the specs of the ship.
Thrakhath settled back into his chair and looked around the room.
“And the course?”
“Confirmed. A remote sensing drone picked up traces of a jump in the Jurbara Sector. The timing would fit precisely into the passage of these three ships.”
Thrakhath looked at the strategic map display hovering in the middle of the room, and ordered the intelligence officer to trace the route in.
“From the Gmarktu Sector where the film was taken, then into Jurbara. They’re heading straight into the heart of the Empire,” Thrakhath whispered.
The intelligence officer nodded.
“Get out.”
Saluting the staff officer left the room.
Thrakhath looked at the map one more time, and then replayed the film again.
It didn’t smell right. If they were indeed going for a raid, why bother to send out patrols that just so happen to stumble on a base, thus triggering a sortie which leads straight back to their fleet? They could have slipped through, their passage perhaps never detected. Secondly, they knew they’d been found out, yet still they were pressing in. Suicide. Such an act was ofttimes expected and honorable for a Kilrathi, but for humans it was rare.
He looked back at the map again.
Vukar Tag.
Was there a connection?
He walked around the strategic map which hovered in the middle of the room, telling the computer to plot arrival times for the fleet to Vukar and back to the center of the Empire. Six days back at flank speed, five days and a half out to Vukar.
Next he checked the Tarawa’s course. Just under six days as well if they were indeed going for Kilrah.
It was all too pat.
He called up his order of battle on the opposite wall and studied it once again. Ten carriers, over twelve hundred fighter and bomber craft, one hundred and twenty major ships in escort.
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter.”
He looked up as Baron Jukaga entered the room, followed by Kalralahr of Fleets Rusmak and Kalralahr of the Imperial Legions Gar.
“You’ve heard?” Thrakhath asked.
“The audacity,” Gar snarled. “First the home of the Dowager, and now they strike straight at our heart.”
“And why? How does it fit together?”
“A defilement born out of desperation,” Rusmak growled. “All our projections indicated that this war would be finished within another year, their precious Earth turned into an extinct and lifeless husk. They are doing this as revenge raids, to hurt our pride.”
The Baron looked over at Rusmak and chuckled softly.
“Spoken as a true warrior, my good Kalralahr.”
“Do you see it differently?” Rusmak snapped.
“It is not desperation; it is cunning,” the Baron replied softly.
Rusmak snorted with disdain.
“I am eager to hear the wisdom of an intellectual such as yourself,” Rusmak said sarcastically.
“Strike first at the Dowager to force the home fleet into a sortie. When the backdoor is thus left unguarded, sneak in and ravage the Kilrah system and thus place us in this little quandary.”
“Are they even aware that the Imperial Fleet has sortied?” Gar retorted. “Have you proof that they are anticipating a counterstrike? We do know from our secret outpost on Vukar Tag that their own imperial guard is digging in, building plasta-concrete bunkers, fortifying. A ship landed yesterday loaded down with heavy armor and ground defense equipment. That indicates to me that they are following their standard procedure of fortifying what they have taken and then converting it into a base.”
“The second carrier that struck Vukar, it is this other one we have now sighted,” Baron Jukaga said quietly.
“How do you know that?” Thrakhath asked, taken by surprise and embarrassed as well that he had not considered that possibility and checked on it.
“I studied the magnification of the images from the Sartha and also from the ground station on Vukar that recorded the beginning of the assault. They are one and the same.”
“Then that means they know of a jump line that we thought was secret,” Thrakhath said. “By standard run it would take thirty or more days to circle down beneath the Empire and then slash up.”
“Precisely.”
The Prince let the thought digest for a moment. He turned to look at the back screen in the room, ordering the computer to bring up whatever intelligence data it had on the new carrier.
“Its design is weak,” Rusmak sneered. “Only one launch deck apparently built on the frame of a medium transport. It shows they are losing the war of production and are reduced to refitting transports. It is nothing but a sign of desperation.”
“For a desperate act perhaps,” Thrakhath whispered.
“We have two choices,” the Baron said quietly.
“And they are?”
“We split off part of the fleet to head back into the heart of the Empire to hunt this raider down and destroy it.”
“Or?”
“We totally abandon the liberation of Vukar for now, and deploy the entire home fleet in a defensive posture.”
“Impossible and ridiculous,” Gar roared. “You are talking about the Imperial honor. Vukar must be avenged as quickly as possible. And secondly you heard the intelligence report. They are fortifying the planet. They know we will not use high-level weapons to bombard it, that we will land and take it back in a straight-out fight. Give them thirty days and they could very well have reinforcements brought in, and it will cost ten legions to dig them out. Those are my legions; I will not shed one drop of blood more than is necessary. If we wait, it will cost us our finest troops. That, I think, is their real plan, to make us bleed white in the retaking. Each day of delay will mean thousands more casualties for the Imperial Guard units.”
“Nevertheless I stand by my analysis,” the Baron replied, “and quite frankly, General, I don’t even see why we should bother to retake Vukar in the first place; it is a boring and dusty world,” and as he spoke, he languidly examined his talons as if looking for some minor imperfection in their lacquered polish.
“You are a fool,” Gar replied. “There is no need to send the entire fleet back. We sortied together as a show of vengeance; a force of seven carriers will be as good as ten. All ground assault forces can continue on. With the remaining three carriers you can send one carrier straight back and two to flank and seal off any escape.”
“Split the fleet?” the Baron asked quietly.
“Seven carriers are still an overwhelming force.”
“And suppose it is a trap?” the Prince asked quietly.
The Baron smiled but said nothing.
“Nonsense, sire,” Rusmak interjected. “A trap with what?”
“Vukar is bait,” the Baron said. “I’ve suspected from the beginning that the humans have a plan within their plan. We know we are drawing the sack in around the humans for the kill. Their losses have been horrendous. If it was not for this little adventure of theirs, already we would be moving into our next operation, which is to seal off the entire Enigma Section from the rear and then to drive straight into the heart of their Confederation. They must know that as well. When you see defeat staring you in the face you take chances and I see this maneuver of theirs as that, a gamble to lure us into a killing match on their terms.”