Opening Moves (37 page)

“
Missile trace!” the sensor operator shouted in surprise, then added a more dumbfounded “We and the rest of the dreadnoughts have fired.”

“
I don't see any birds in my plot, Lieutenant!” Captain Pryatan rounded on the young officer. “Keep it together!”

“
Ma'am, my systems show a confirmed missile launch, but all birds vanished from radar, thermal and LIDAR one-point-four seconds after their drives' ignition.”

“
I'm positive that if your subordinate cannot see them it's highly unlikely the Tuathaan will have noticed their launch, let alone their bearing,” Corr'tane stated levelly then looked at Pryatan. “We
did
fire those missiles. And, after one-point-four seconds, in the middle of the EW envelopes of our screens, their flight computers ordered them to shut down their drives. They're now coasting silently towards the enemy at a speed twenty-two percent faster than our own approach. And when they get close... Well, let's just say those two hundred megaton warheads have proximity fuses.” He smiled coldly as understanding dawned on Pryatan's face.

As with the 'dumb' mines at Senfina there was no reasonable way to detect a cold missile on approach. The only difference was that here it was the Dominion which employed the strategy, and employed it on the offensive. It was probably a one-shot ruse, one that Corr'tane wouldn't be able to replicate on a more dynamic battleground a second time. But here...

“I've calculated course and position of the warheads based on their estimated speed on shutdown,” a throng of red dots appeared in the main holotank and on Corr'tane's own display.

“
Well done, lieutenant,” Pryatan nodded. This was the kind of initiative an officer looked for in her subordinates.

Corr'tane leaned back in his seat, making himself as comfortable as the shock frame allowed as he watched the missile salvo coast towards its target. It was a strangely riveting sight, and his eyes followed the twelve hundred warheads with a gleeful twinkle not unlike that of a young boy who was certain to be the only one to know of a great secret.

Five minutes before the Tuathaan fleet entered their powered missile envelope the throng of missiles connected with the throng of ships in CLAWBLADE's holotank. At several million kilometers, the distance was still far too great to get a visual of what was happening, but the abstract depiction of the tactical plot in front of him told Corr'tane everything he needed to know. The symbols of the missiles expired – and with them scores of the red triangles that stood for Tuathaan vessels.

A few seconds later the bare eye caught up with the events as the light of a thousand small suns erupted for brief seconds in the empty space between the fifth and the sixth planet of Dunnan Gal. Nuclear explosions swallowed too tightly packed fighter squadrons whole. Heat and radiation burnt through armor and melted hulls and machinery and flesh. Secondary explosions tore and cut at already wounded ships, belching atmosphere and plasma and bodies into the depths of space.

In Corr'tane's tactical plot the number of enemy vessels dropped rapidly as CLAWBLADE's sensors sifted through the background radiation to take stock of the carnage her missiles and those of her sisters had caused.

“
Heavy casualties to light enemy units, sir. We've also confirmed hits on some of the cruisers, and it appears as if they've lost half their destroyers. Enemy strength is down by fifty percent, Strategos,” Pryatan reported.

It was a massive blow, made possible only by the lackluster quality of his opponent and the large numbers of his small and lightly-armored units. Still, they kept coming, and Corr'tane for the first time, felt something like respect for the enemy fleet's commander. The man must have known he was going to die, and yet he was going to see this through to the end. Stupid, but brave.

“Launch all fighters. Finish them off. Our forward screen is to back them up.” He reckoned this wouldn't take long.

It didn't. Just as the Tuathaan light units would have been a danger to his own independent ships had they engaged in coordinated strikes, 3
rd
Fleets almost two thousand fighters were more than enough to end the shell-shocked survivors of Corr'tane's underhanded missile strike. His fleet's main body ignored the battle –- or was it a slaughter? – and continued onwards to Dunnan Gal's blue and gray globe while cruisers and fighters killed off the last stragglers.

“
Set us up in orbit of the planet, stand by,” he ordered. “Have the 8
th
Corps ready to deploy after we conduct saturation strikes against the planetary defenses.”

Strategically, he was taking a gamble. It was all based on Tuathaan mentality and his understanding of how they fought and lived. By attacking Dunnan Gal instead of hurrying his fleet to Báine to relieve Tear'al he knew the strategos would consider his actions a betrayal. He would most certainly withdraw from Báine immediately, leaving his casualties and damaged vessels behind to return to Dominion space, fuming and expecting a Tuathaan counter attack. If the Tuathaan were competent commanders they would mount that counter attack and
then
redeploy forces from other sectors to meet Corr'tane at Dunnan Gal. But such a straightforward look didn't take Tuathaan society into account. His gamble was that, upon hearing of his attack on their homestead, clan Dunnan's forces and their vassals would vacate the battlefield at Báine, creating the respite 12
th
Fleet needed to withdraw in good order. By attacking Dunnan Gal he had issued a challenge to the Tuathaan clans, attacking their very home, daring them to come and fight him. And he had never once heard of a Tuathaan not responding to such a challenge.

Báine was a place of
their
choosing. He had no intention of going there. No, a wise commander chose the time and place of the battles he was forced to fight. Meanwhile, Tear'al would be disgraced, the offensive saved and his own name showered with glory. Plus he would have uncounted dead Tuathaan at his feet and a ravaged strategically important star system to boast with. It was all so perfect.

“
We are in position, Strategos,” Pryatan informed him as CLAWBLADE fired her breaking thrusters and came to a halt above the planet's blue and gray orb. Outside, orbital infrastructure disintegrated under the onslaught of 3
rd
Fleet while missile ships began to surround the planet, interdicting ground-based anti-ship launchers and attacking military installations with nuclear weapons.

Corr'tane didn't even have to intervene. His fleet worked like a well-oiled machine, the thousands of hours of training and literally hundreds of exercises finally paying off. “Time to send them a message,” he grinned mischievously. “Call the ship the closest to the planet. Tell her captain to remove a city from the planet, I don't care which one.” Today the Tuathaan would pay for the pain they had caused him.

Dunnan Gal had nothing in the way of serious orbital defenses, certainly not on the scale the Érenni employed. The Tuathaan's whole concept of defense was based on a strong mobile fleet –  which was unfortunately fighting elsewhere at the moment, though probably quickly disengaging. Corr'tane watched in great satisfaction as missiles erupted from the zoomed-in hull of the destroyer that had received the honor of being the instrument of his revenge. He was physically tingling with anticipation as the weapons raced through the planet's dense atmosphere, and like a madman his whole being was prepared to sing out and jump for joy. A part of his brain felt revulsion at his profession of joy, but it was a small and quiet part. He had become a dealer of death, one of the best in known space, and eventually everyone would share that opinion.

Down below, enhanced video images showed the nuclear firestorm and massive blast wave hit. Tall towers disintegrated like confetti in a storm. Lower buildings were flattened by a giant, invisible hammer, and a thick black cloud began to spread over the center of the destruction. He really didn't need the specifics. Corr'tane was content in his knowledge that the city and its foul inhabitants were gone.

“Deploy landing forces. War Captain Tallthresher's units will stay and support them. The rest of the fleet will gather and return to the fold.”

Someone close to him cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Strategos, but the Tuathaan will be coming. I do not think a hundred ships will hold them, especially not if they are hindered by this planet's gravity well,” Captain Pryatan said carefully and respectfully.

“No, I don't expect they will,” Corr'tane nodded and folded his hands before his face, staring intently at the strategic representation of the star system that replaced the images of destruction in his holotank.

Pryatan waited for a further explanation but none was forthcoming. The Ashani were a highly militant society, and since she had been able to speak Pryatan had been ordered never to question or pry into the orders of her superiors, whether parents or teachers, or, now in adulthood, her superior military officers. Not only that, but her commander was none other than the brightest and most enigmatic of the Council of Strategoi. To question or doubt his orders went against everything that had been ingrained in her. And yet... “Then why not keep the whole fleet here, sir? Otherwise our troops on the surface will be doomed.”

When it had come to putting together the core of officers for his fleet command Corr'tane had had a free choice. Even though he was an obscure personality in Ashani society as a whole, his set of lectures as junior fellow in the navy's university had gained him the regard of many of the higher ranks. Serving with him as captain of the CLAWBLADE was considered one of the highest honors in the Dominion and a whole squadron of senior officers had put themselves forward. With the looming shadow of the coming war he had sifted through the cream of the navy, the highest graduating academy students and hardened veterans. But none of them really caught his attention. But then he had stumbled across Pryatan's file. The officer had been demoted for answering back to her superior and questioning his decision to follow a Tuathaan raiding party. It turned out to be a trap and Pryatan had been proven right, but was still disciplined for insubordination.

Corr'tane had noticed something in that file he connected with. The female officer would speak her mind despite protocol if she thought she was right. It was something High Strategos Kalla'shan had noticed in Corr'tane himself and encouraged. Obedience was importance, but the old man had known that it was only one part of what made a great military. Initiative and independent thought mattered just as much. As such, Corr'tane decided to follow his example and had arranged for Pryatan to be promoted and sent to his command where her supposed 'flaws' would actually be her greatest asset. Where another Strategos would have her flogged for questioning the order, Corr'tane enjoyed it, allowing her to explain it out loud and go over any flaws he may have missed.

“It's a trap for the Tuathaan, Captain. And War Captain Tallthresher's units and the others still in system are the bait. I don't intend to meet them in open combat, at least not initially. The Tuathaan are headstrong and impulsive, but they aren't completely stupid. They'll send scouts. I intend for these scouts to see the blockade ships and report back.” He punched a set of keys and a representation of local foldspace appeared in the holotank. The image of the system looked like a multi-polar neural cell with the sun – depicted in black – as its impassable nucleus and its dendrites as the foldspace corridors reaching out to other stars. “We know where the main relief force must come from,” he zoomed in on the corridor from Báine to Dunnan Gal. “We'll seed the corridor's terminus with passive sensor buoys. Since we can expect the Tuathaan within twenty-four hours, the drift won't be strong and extended enough to all pull them into the gravity shears. And a few light minutes past them we will wait, in minimum emission mode with our drives shut down.”

Pryatan sharply sucked in her breath and Corr'tane gave her a thin smile. Powering down one's warp field
inside the fold
wasn't even reckless. It was madness! Even though the corridor was fairly wide and stable there was simply no guarantee that the widely divergent gravity currents and jumping shears even in the 'eye of the storm'-like center of the corridor wouldn't go through even their heaviest vessels like a torch through a sheet of paper. A well-compensated warp generator would ride out such surprise occasions without even breaking a sweat. In fact, it would even be able to draw energy from the distortion fields. But this...!

“
They won't expect this, captain,” Corr'tane explained calmly, looking up to her. “With War Captain Tallthresher's units in system, 3
rd
Fleet has seven hundred and fifty ships left. The 12
th
Fleet in Báine was facing
two
fleets, Pryatan. Much of them will be coming our way, and I intend to let them never make it to Dunnan Gal. The danger we face is calculable. We may lose a few dozen ships in the fold while we lie in wait for the enemy. But he won't be expecting us there. And that will be his undoing.”

Captain Pryatan saluted, her face blank. Corr'tane didn't know if she agreed with his decision or not, but she did carry out her orders – and that was enough. If he succeeded he would be a hero of the Dominion, maybe along the legends of old. If he failed he would probably pay with his life before a firing squad. Either way he would leave Dunnan Gal victorious, or he simply would not leave at all.