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WHEN ALL SEEMS LOST

William C. Dietz

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Many thanks to Jeffrey T. Slotstad for his expert advice concerning the creation, maintenance, and destruction of space elevators. Technical errors, if any, are the exclusive property of the author.

1

Surprise, the pith and marrow of war.

—Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fisher

Standard year 1906

ABOARD THE CONFEDERACY DESTROYER ESCORT DE-11201,THE LANCE, IN HYPERSPACE

An almost palpable sense of tension fi?lled the control room as the Lance prepared to exit hyperspace and enter a solar system where anything could be waiting. As with all Spear-Class ships, the Executive Offi?cer and the navigator sat to either side of the captain within a semicircular enclosure. The rest of the bridge crew were seated one level below in what was often referred to as “the tub. ” All wore space suits, with their helmets racked beside them. “Five minutes and counting,” Lieutenant j. g. “Tink” Ross reported, as he eyed the data that scrolled down the screen in front of him.

“Roger that,” Lieutenant Commander Hol Tanaka acknowledged calmly, as he stared at the viewscreen and the blank nothingness of hyperspace beyond. The naval offi?cer had thick black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a compact body. The Lance was his fi?rst command, and even though the DE was older than he was, Tanaka was proud of both the ship and his crew. “Sound battle stations. . . . Bring primary and secondary weapons systems online. . .

activate the defensive screens. All Daggers will stand by for immediate launch. Give me a quick scan as we exit hyperspace, followed by a full-spectrum sweep, and a priority-alpha target analysis. ”

The ship’s Executive Offi?cer, Lieutenant K. T. Balcom, responded with a pro forma “Aye, aye, sir,” but there was no need to actually do anything, because the orders had been anticipated, and the crew was ready. What couldn’t be anticipated, however, was what the DE would run into as it entered normal space off Nav Beacon CSM-1802. Because even though it was statistically unlikely, there was always the possibility that the Lance would exit hyperspace within missile range of a Ramanthian warship. Which, come to think of it, is exactly what we’re supposed to do, Tanaka thought to himself. So that the rest of the battle group will have time to drop hyper and respond while the bugs clobber us!

The thought brought no sense of resentment. Just a determination to succeed. Not just for the Confederacy, but for Tanaka’s parents, who had been among thousands killed when the bugs glassed Port Foro on Zena II. Then the time for refl?ection was past as the last few seconds ticked away, and DE-11201 entered the Nebor system, which was only a hop-skip-and-a-hyperspace-jump away from the battle group’s fi?nal destination inside the sector of space controlled by the Clone Hegemony. Stomachs lurched as the ship’s NAVCOMP shut the hyperdrive down, and the Lance entered normal space.

What followed took place so quickly that Tanaka, his crew, and the ship’s computers were just beginning to process what was waiting for them when ten torpedoes scored direct hits on the destroyer escort and blew the ship to smithereens. All that remained to mark the point where the ambush had taken place was a steadily expanding constellation of debris and bursts of stray static. There was no jubilation aboard the Sheen vessels that had been positioned around the nav beacon for more than one standard month. Because the formerly free-ranging computer-controlled ships were entirely automated and therefore incapable of emotion.