In the morning, at the ninth fort, they concentrated their efforts on the simulation rooms to see if they could pick up any clues from the theoretical operations. For two solid metacycles, the three Blue Capes watched Gradygroat gunners struggling with outlandish target environments-literally hundreds of simultaneous targets moving at wildly disparate speeds all the way from a few hundred c'lenyts per metacycle to just below LightSpeed. They got no clues to providing the disruptors with energy, but were at least rewarded with the Gradygroat's unique overall strategy. As the simulator room was subjected to "attacks," it soon became clear that none of the thirteen forts operated independently. Instead, each was a node in a closely linked network that relied on group firepower-it explained why each great space fort was actually four independently targeted sets of cannon. Taken as an entire system, they formed a nearly impervious shield around Haelic, and the one clear invasion path to Avalon.
If only the xaxtdamned Friars could fire them! But then, that was at least part of the reason why Gradgroat-Norchelites had been sniggeringly referred to as "Gradygroats" all those years. They simply couldn't....
Later, in the bustle of the last four forts-while Wellington searched for anything they might have missed-Ursis concentrated his studies in the chapels. "Would it not be bizarre," he commented to Brim, "if the answer were actually in their bewildering motto-virtually staring us in the face-and we lacked the insight to see it? 'In destruction is resurrection; the path of power leads through truth.'" He shook his great furry head in frustration. "I cannot comprehend. Voot! "Chilled claws make welcome bedfellows with roaring fireplaces,' if you get my gist, Wilf."
Brim smiled. "Absolutely, Nik," he equivocated. "I think...."
The three Blue Capes returned to Defiant late in the Afternoon watch of the same day with almost unshakable faith that the cannon could be fired, and probably had been fired at one time. But whatever mechanisms powered them during those long-gone days had been lost before time began, and it was doubtful if the huge batteries would ever again find any practical use.
That night, when Claudia picked him up after work, Brim could tell from her face that something serious had transpired while he was gone. "Want to tell me about it?" he asked while she piloted her little skimmer off into the evening.
"I guess I always have worn my emotions on my face," she sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. Abruptly, she pulled into an empty parking place and switched off the traction.
"Hold me, Wilf," she said in a tight little voice. "Old Prize was lost yesterday, with all hands. I got word when I was leaving the office...."
Brim completed her drive home.
In the early-morning darkness, they awakened to a special alert from Claudia's office: after many speeches and much fanfare, Triannic's Battle Fleet had finally sortied from the great League base at Tarrott-almost as if he wanted to announce his intentions to the Universe. The long-awaited attack was finally underway....
Chapter 9
LEGACY
Hador was little more than a glow on the seaward horizon when Claudia brought her skimmer to a halt at Default's gravity pool. Dressed in a one-piece jumpsuit with no makeup, she had been uncharacteristically quiet while she navigated the already busy streets. Now she peered at Brim's face as if there were something important she needed to say but couldn't find the words.
"Wish me luck," Brim enjoined quietly, taking her dainty hand and returning her gaze.
"Before this one's over, I'll most likely need every scrap and shred I can get."
Claudia nodded and pursed her lips. "You know you have all my best wishes for that," she said with a frown. "But strangely enough, I don't have even the slightest doubt about your coming back-all in one piece, too." She shook her head. "What bothers me is whom you'll be coming back to...."
Brim raised his eyebrows. "I don't understand," he said.
Claudia smiled a little. "Maybe I don't either," she said. "Kiss me now, Wilf; all things will be revealed with time."
Brim kissed her easily, holding her shoulders for a moment. Then he opened his eyes and continued to peer into her face. Something was going on in that gorgeous head, and be couldn't fathom what it was.
Without warning she embraced him fiercely, crushing her lips into his for a long, impassioned moment. When she finally released him, they were both a bit breathless.
"There, Lieutenant Brim," she whispered with a half-smile. "That may just have to tide us over some critical moments in our friendship. I wanted to make sure that you understand which direction I'm coming from, if I'm correct."
Brim raised an eyebrow.
Claudia smiled. "Call it a premonition," she said. Then she peered solemnly into his eyes. "I'll be waiting at the gravity pool when Defiant returns," she said, gripping his hand until it hurt. "Make sure that I'm right: that you're on her, and all in one piece...."
"You'll not be rid of me so easily," Brim said, pressing the latch and stepping to the pavement.
"I shall count on that," Claudia said. She blew him a kiss. "Now we must both hurry." Her skimmer was moving the moment Brim closed her door, and was out of sight before he could stride halfway across the brow.
He arrived at Defiant's main entry hatch just in time to catch Collingswood's summons to an emergency briefing in the wardroom. He rushed along the corridor, taking a seat only moments before she finished a chart on the forward marker board.
Imperial
Type
League
81
DESTROYERS
119
23
LIGHT CRUISERS
37
8
HEAVY CRUISERS
4
9
BATTLE CRUISERS
12
24
BATTLESHIPS
36
4
FAST BATTLESHIPS
0
0
<classified>
(est) 48
20
MISC. SUPPORT
(est) 60
169
Total Ships
316
While the last few stragglers took their seats, Collingswood finished her mug of cvcesse', traded it to Grimsby for a full one, then motioned for the doors to be closed. "Well," she started, pointing to the board, '"as if most of you haven't guessed, Kabul Anak's Attack Groups have finally embarked from Tarrott, and what you see here are his numbers relative to ours. Overall, the two lists are nearly meaningless-but certain details are worth some consideration." She pointed to the next-to-last entry. "Here's a good example: the Leaguers have forty more support ships than we have, a considerable delta for them-if statistics are your game. In reality, however, that's bad for them. Atalanta's really the only support 'ship' we need. Remember, Anak and his hoodlums are coming to us, so, all things being equal, those sixty support ships probably aren't enough-they're counting on the use of this base as much as we are." She stopped for a sip of cvcesse' and peered at her notes for a moment.
"Now, if we forget those support ships," she continued, "the odds drop to 149 for us and 256 for them-still awfully one-sided for the Leaguers since now we're counting actual warships.
But a closer look shows that eighty-six of that 107-ship delta is in destroyers and a classified type of ship called a 'bender' that many of you will see in a briefing for the first time this afternoon-once Defiant is secured. Both carry a certain sting, to be sure," she added with a smile, "but they don't in any way compare to the remaining classes-and in those; we're much closer to parity. For example," she said, pointing to "Light Cruisers," "they have only fourteen more than we do, and two of ours are Defiant-class-I.F.S. Deadly, our first sister ship, is due in momentarily." She waited while a rustle of excitement swept the room.