Space Station Atlas
“Admiral, we have been most grievously attacked. You are the senior surviving admiral of the Fleet. Why are you wasting your time here instead of coordinating the defense of Victoria?” Queen Anne asked sternly.
Admiral Douthat struggled to recover her composure. “Princess…Your Highness,” she managed. “This man just attempted to evacuate the Prometheus Space Station, using my name as authority. This implicates him in the attack that just destroyed two of our battleships.”
The new Queen turned and studied Hiram Brill, who was gasping for breath and struggling not to be violently sick to his stomach.
“What is your name?” she demanded.
“Lieutenant Hiram Brill, Fleet Intelligence,” he gasped. “I am an aide to Rear Admiral Teehan.”
“Rear Admiral Teehan is dead,” Queen Anne said evenly, “killed in the attack on the Palace.” Then her brows furrowed as she searched her memory. “Brill…you wrote the report predicting an attack by the Tilleke on Arcadian shipping.”
Hiram nodded, astonished that she would even know of the report, let alone the fact that he wrote it.
Queen Anne turned on Admiral Douthat. “Had we paid proper attention to this man’s report months ago, perhaps we would not be here today, Admiral. Do you really want to arrest one of your more insightful intelligence officers, or would you be willing to listen to what he has to say before you…” she pursued her lips, “…push him out of the nearest airlock?”
You don’t get to be an admiral without learning about political realities. Admiral Douthat’s political reality was staring her in the face in the form of the twenty year old Queen, who would be the major figure in Victorian government for the rest of Admiral Douthat’s career. With a conscious effort, she let the anger drain out of her, saving enough to give Brill a very hard look. “Make it good, Brill.”
Hiram sagged with relief. “Gandalf! Show display of Bogeys One and Two.”
The display blossomed, showing Victoria, the two mammoth space stations, and far to either side of Atlas a small swarm of ships, one labeled Bogey One and the other Bogey Two. Queen Anne stepped forward and studied them intently.
Douthat frowned. “Two freighter convoys, so what?”
Hiram shook his head. “Not freighters. If I’m right, those are two Dominion invasion fleets trying to pass themselves off as freighters. And they’ll be here in less than twenty four hours.”
Douthat glowered at him. “This is bullshit, Brill. The Dominion doesn’t have that many ships. How many are there, one hundred and thirty?”
“One hundred and fifty,” Hiram corrected, earning him another glare. “And we have only the First Fleet, three Battle Groups totaling sixty ships. Fifty eight, now,” he corrected himself.”
“The Dominion does not have that many ships,” the admiral repeated sternly.
Hiram felt a flutter in his stomach, ignored it, and forced him to stare back at Admiral Douthat. “Admiral, it makes no sense for those freighters to fire on our battleships and to attack the Palace unless there was going to be a follow-on strike of massive proportions. We’ve got two large fleets coming in, one from Cape Breton and one directly from the DUC. Anyway, we know the Dominion was involved in the attack that destroyed Second Fleet-”
“Second Fleet!” Alyce Douthat had gone pale. “What are you talking about?”
Belatedly, Hiram realized that no one outside of the Intelligence Center had heard the message from Bawdy Bertha. “Gandalf! Play the message from Captain Zizka.”
Captain Zizka’s somber face appeared and told his story of desperation and death once more.
“What does this mean?” asked Queen Anne once the message had ended.
“It means that Brill is probably right,” Douthat replied grimly. “Second Fleet is gone, and Third Fleet with it. The Tilleke, the Dominion and Cape Breton are somehow working together. These two “convoys” are really invasion fleets, so Home Fleet is outnumbered more than two to one, and most of our admirals died in the attack on the Palace.” She smiled thinly. “The only reason I wasn’t there as well is because Sir Henry wanted me here to escort you to one of my ships for safe keeping.”
“But can you stop them?” the Queen demanded. “Can you protect Cornwall?”
Douthat studied the holo display, then shook her head wearily. “Maybe if we hadn’t lost Isle of Man and Invincible, but without them we’re just too weak.”
“They’re not here to attack Cornwall,” Hiram said. The Queen turned to face him. “Explain,” she said.
He opened his arms wide to encompass everything around him. “They want this, Atlas and Prometheus, the industrial titans of the human universe. This, and our Victorian space with its wonderful network of wormholes.”
“Bloody hell,” murmured Sir Henry.
“But if the Fleet can’t protect Cornwall, how can it protect Atlas and Prometheus?”
“We can’t,” he said shortly. “We cannot fight and win, but we can run,” Hiram replied, his own sense of certainty for once suffusing his voice with confidence. “And we’ll take Atlas with us.”