"Relax, Jubal," Brim answered without turning around. "It's only a relative altitude. I'm going to skim the horizon. It's an old smuggler's trick I picked up at the mines years ago. We're now heading straight for the opposite hemisphere—the on closest to Hogath-37, where the Leaguers are trying to tear up our Tandor-Ra conference. What I'm doing is getting a good running start while I keep as much of the planet between them and us as I can."
"A smuggler!" Theada exclaimed, pointing across the center console in mock horror. "I knew it!"
Brim laughed. "Too true, Jubal, my friend," he said. "We Carescrians just naturally get mixed up in all sorts of evil stuff!'
"Incoming coded KA'PPA, Lieutenant," Applewood interrupted from a display. "From Cap'n Collingswood."
"I'll have the KA'PPAs as they come," Brim answered.
"Aye, sir," Applewood said. "'Collingswood to Brim: Lost KA'PPA COMM temporarily,"' he read.
"'Hear you have taken off without my orders: good man. Good hunting! Imperial battlecruisers due to arrive in one to one point five metacycles should you require assist. Of interest to you and a few others: that Overprefect Valentin probably has a familiar face. Message ends."'
Brim turned to nod at Ursis.
The Bear grinned back. "Possible..." He kissed his fingertips. "Even with poor odds, I personally welcome the opportunity to find out."
An image of Barbousse suddenly materialized in a nearby display. The big rating silently grinned for a moment, then I kissed his fingertips, too.
Brim smiled grimly watching Truculent's apparent altitude diminish with perceptible speed. "We'll make a bit of trouble for the bastard, no matter who he is," he growled into the displays as the destroyer surged forward through increasingly dense atmospheric layers. Livid orange tongues of plasma streamed from every protuberance on the hull. Aft, the whole ship trailed a fiery wake of disturbed atoms.
"Stand by all weapons systems," Fourier warned on the interCOMM.
"Standing by," a chorus of voices answered.
"How much ground clearance are we going to have?" Theada asked nervously from the side of his mouth as he stared in fascination through the forward Hyperscreens.
Brim chuckled. "Not much, Jubal," he replied. "How close, Mr. Chairman?"
"On this heading," the Chairman replied presently, "Truculent will clear the ground by a minimum seventeen hundred fifty irals."
"Oh, plenty of room," Theada said a little breathlessly.
Their actual perihelion occurred so quickly Brim only sensed an instantaneous transition from apparent, descent to ascent, although Truculent's control settings remained unchanged. Off to port, he'd glimpsed a city for a moment—no crystal in the windows there anymore. Probably caved in a few roofs, too—time to worry about paying for that damage later.
"I see 'em!" somebody exclaimed. "Six points to port and low to the horizon."
"We're tracking," another voice said quietly. "NF-110s all right. Long-range destroyers."
"You've never seen one of those, have you, Wilf?" Fourier asked.
"Only read about 'em," Brim admitted.
"Xaxtdamned fine ships. They can outmaneuver a scalded skarsatt."
"I'll keep that in mind," Brim said, lowering Truculent's bow until he could see three irregular shapes against the starry background. They were arranged along a staggered line formation and returning for their second attack on an arrogantly steady heading—clearly expecting no more opposition than their first pass received from fort or starship. The Carescrian smiled with grim satisfaction. This time, Overprefect Valentin was in for a nasty surprise—whoever he might turn out to be. In his display, he watched the firing crews at their Director consoles, listened to their familiar litany of deflection and ranges. We'll take them in order, Anastasia," he said quietly as he adjusted course toward the leading enemy ship. "Closest first."
"All disruptors prepare to engage forward," Fourier said. "Target bearing red for five."
"Range ninety-one hundred and closing rapidly."
"Steady..."
This enemy ship was long and cylindrical, built as a single hull instead of independent modules on a K tube. She had a high, thin bridge and nine turrets distributed evenly forward, 'midships, and aft in triads circling the hull. Brim wondered if he might be looking at his special adversary as he scanned the distant vessel. There was quite a score to settle.
"Shoot!"
Truculent's deck bucked violently as all seven disruptors went off in a blinding eruption that lit space around the enemy destroyer like a tiny nova. A flame glowed for a moment abaft her bridge, then abruptly winked out.
"Got 'im, first shot!" somebody yelled gleefully as Fourier poured salvo after salvo at the enemy ship, starting a number of fires and blasting a large piece of debris into the wake.
None of the three attackers was fighting back yet, Brim noted. His tactics of surprise had served him well. He imagined the chaos Fourier's seven big 144s must be causing in the lead ship and wondered what the reaction would be in the two nearby asteroid forts whose big disruptors—quiet so far—nonetheless bore directly on his present position.
Finally, ragged return fire began to flash outside from the enemy ships. "It's mainly from the second one," Brim yelled to Fourier. "We'll give them a bit of trouble next." He put the helm over and hauled the ship on to a collision course with the next enemy destroyer.
Fourier nodded. "I see him," she said.
"Beating orange nine forty-six."
"Up a hundred."
Brim watched the forward turret index a few degrees to port, rise slightly, then lower. Unseen, he knew the others were retracking to the same target.
"Steady... "
"Shoot!" Truculent was closer to this one, and the targeting was accurate. Great pieces of flaming wreckage began to fly off the enemy ship.
The first and third destroyers were now recovering from their initial surprise—to starboard, space erupted in a ragged welter of return fire. Truculent's deck kicked with the first a long-range bits from the third enemy ship, but the effort was far too late for Brim's intended victim. A shattering explosion suddenly sent the second raider skidding off course to nadir, all but one of its turrets paralyzed or blasted to silence "Looks like he's had it," somebody observed.
"I'll have a spread of torpedoes into him, Anastasia," Brim ordered. In a matter of ticks, a salvo of five big Mark-19 torpedoes flashed past the bridge from the launcher, leaving a trail of blinding ruby fire in the starry darkness.
"Torpedoes running," Barbousse's deep voice intoned on the voice circuit.
Brim immediately canted Truculent round toward the third attacker. "Give him everything we've got!" he yelled to Anastasia over the bellowing generators.
"New target bearing blue four forty-one at eleven ninety-two."
"Shoot!"
Again, Truculent's powerful battery turned space into a concussive inferno, this time around the third enemy ship. Then the whole Universe lit from aft. Startled, Brim swung in his recliner, gritting his teeth.
Were the Lixorian forts finally joining the fray? On whose side? He was immediately relieved to see what remained of the second League destroyer melt completely into a roiling cloud of livid energy from his torpedoes. Every port gleamed like a fiery eye along the hull before the ship burst again into a stupendous flowerlike pattern of flame and debris. He watched an entire turret assembly fly off into space like a runaway holiday rocket.
"That got the Leaguer bastards!" somebody yelled jubilantly.