"All other ships are operating normally, with all hands accounted for," said Wells, breaking the depressing silence. "Hyperlight grid is stable, but Greenland's grid sector is being patched at long range by Britannia and Kyushu."
Runacres digested the information, a dizzy sensation making it hard to concentrate. Aliens. And two corvettes and a mothership—over four hundred spacers, the cream of the fleet— destroyed or left behind, marooned in time and space. There was nothing to be done. His command, the Tellurian Legion Main Fleet, was withdrawing, committed to returning to Sol system. The emergency recall was automatic, the jump coordinates pre-set. Now they had to hold the grid up long enough to make the twenty parsec HLA transit—four standard months.
Greenland's grid sector was Runacres's first concern. Should the links degrade catastrophically, the grid matrix would unload, dumping the fleet light years from Sol. If that happened, it would take many more months, perhaps years, to get home.
"Franklin," Runacres ordered. "Flagship to assume grid duty."
Wells raised the flagship's skipper: "Maneuver Eire to grid sector one at best speed. Relieve Greenland on station." Runacres studied the Eire's amphitheater bridge two decks below. He watched and listened as Captain Sarah Merriwether directed her bridge team and noted with satisfaction the efficiency and teamwork ingrained in her crew.
"On the way, Frank," Merriwether responded, her drawl deep and resonant. "It's Shaula all over again, isn't it, Admiral?"
"Perhaps, Sarah," Runacres answered quietly, looking down at her upturned helmet. "And perhaps not. We survived this time. No one survived Shaula System."
"The fleet wasn't armed twenty-five years ago, Admiral," said Merriwether. "Being able to shoot back made the difference." "Progress," Runacres grumbled.
Chapter 3. Orbit
Buccari felt the smile on her face, the exaltation of survival painfully stretching the lagging muscles of her cheeks. Her attention returned to the reality of their predicament: the alien ships may have been destroyed, but the task force had retreated into hyperlight, stranding them in a strange and hostile system. Her smile relaxed. The muscles in the back of her jaw tightened.
"Skipper, recommend we safe the pulse laser," Buccari said.
Commander Quinn stirred, switching off the arming master. "Do you have contact with Hudson?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. They're still up on docking radar. Give me a second and I'll get you a vector," Buccari said, deselecting firing circuits.
"Engineering! Status on main engines?" Quinn demanded.
Rhodes's booming voice responded: "Sixty-eight percent usable power, but the system is haywired to beat the devil, and the governors may not respond. Cannon coming down. Main engines ready in three minutes."
Buccari established laser link with the EPL and began receiving telemetry. As she identified the lifeboat beacon she noticed a proximity alert on the navigation display.
"Commander," Buccari interrupted, urgently.
"Yeah," Quinn answered.
"Sir, Hudson has grappled the lifeboat. On this vector he'll bring the lander alongside in fifteen minutes. But we have another problem!"
"What now?" Quinn asked as he punched in the rendezvous heading.
"The planet…R-K Three. At this course and speed we're heading into first-order gravitational field effect, maybe even a reentry." Buccari reset the range indicator on tactical; a blinkingplanet symbol glowed ominously in sector two, and the course indicator pointed to an intersection on the orbital plane. Quinn hit the maneuvering alarm and fired a bank of thrusters, shifting the ship's attitude. The planet pitched slowly into view, fully illuminated except for a thin crescent of darkness. The pilot maneuvered until the planet was dead ahead.
"Look at that!" Buccari gasped. It was close, already starting to fill the viewscreen—and beautiful—swirls of brown, green, blue, and white marbled the brilliant body. Blue and white! Water and clouds! she thought, her hopes rising.
"Set parameters for a standard reconnaissance orbit," Quinn said. "Any mass data? Any electromagnetic traffic?"
"Sensors are pretty chewed up. Computer's only processing spectral data," she replied. "No output yet. No indications of electromagnetic emissions. Nothing. Electronically, it's uninhabited."
"My wife said—" Quinn choked on his own words. "How're we doing on the mains?" he asked.
Buccari sighed and checked her engine instruments. "Restart check complete," she said. "Auxiliary backups functional. Generators are fluctuating outside spec, but Rhodes hasn't tried cross-connecting. He's doing that now." Buccari pivoted in her tethers and stretched to flip a switch on the overhead power console. She began the system checks required to set up orbit.
"Roger, restart," answered Quinn wistfully.
Lifeboat pick-up went without incident. With the crew returned to their duty stations, final preparations for orbit began.
"Survey systems are still hammered, but the computer has synthesized a preliminary mass analysis," Hudson said, back at his station.
Buccari interrogated her primary monitor and examined the computer data. The planet, designated Rex-Kaliph Three, was smaller than Earth, at.91g on the surface. Precise flight-path calculations indicated the corvette was not on an collision course; without additional course or speed changes, it would pass the planet on a severely divergent trajectory, receiving a gravity sling into an elliptical solar orbit. A fiery collision with the planet would have been preferable—preferable to being catapulted without fuel or food deep into space.
"Any signs of intelligence?" Quinn asked.
"No, sir," Hudson replied. "We've picked up some random coherent signals but nothing like you'd expect from a technical civilization, certainly not like what we're detecting from the second planet. We'll know more after we make a survey orbit. Only the telescopes and cameras are up, but engineering is working on the sensors—among other things."
"Mains are on line and ready for retrograde burn," Buccari announced. "Trajectory for orbit is good. We won't need more than five minutes of burn at two plus gees. Fuel is ten point four—some margin for error."
"Three minutes to orbit retro, Commander," Hudson reported.
Quinn did not acknowledge. Buccari looked up to find the pilot staring out at the planet, its image reflecting from his helmet visor.
"Beautiful!" Quinn whispered sadly.
Buccari gazed at the brilliant cloud-covered body and nodded. It had been a long time. It looked like Earth. She returned to her checklists.
"One minute to burn. Orbital checklist complete," Buccari reported. She labored on her power console. "Engineering, power readouts are fluctuating. You sure we have a good cross-connect?"
Rhodes retorted with a string of expletives, indicating he was satisfied with the state of affairs at his end of the ship. Buccari leaned forward, intent on her instruments.
"What's wrong, Sharl? You're worried," Quinn said.
She looked up from the power console. "Nothing I can put my finger on, Commander. Interlocks are off, and there are a dozen primary deficiencies. The whole system is messed up from battle damage, but Virgil's as good as they come. If anyone can jury-rig the plumbing, he can. We don't have many alternatives."
"Not good alternatives, but we sure got plenty of rotten ones," Quinn replied. "Okay, I've got the controls. Mister Hudson, everybody to acceleration stations. Pass word for retro. Deceleration load two point two gees." Quinn sounded the maneuvering alarm and pivoted the ship, redirecting the massive main engines nozzles along the retro vector. Lapsed time advanced inexorably.