Jonathan sat in his command chair on the bridge of Stingray One and studied the readings from the Terran probes with a frown. There was far too little activity for a world whose protector knew it could be attacked at any moment, and Confederate Intelligence had proven beyond any reasonable doubt that Gaunis knew of the imminent attack.

Of course, the High Admiral would hardly advertise the fact that he was prepared. Still, Jonathan felt there should be something happening, some little sign that not all was as it should be on Terra.

He studied the probes' readouts again. A few vessels were orbiting the planet, along with the standard array of communication satellites and navigation beacons. Other ships moved to and from Terra on standard flight paths. A screen at Jonathan's station displayed a brief report on each of the ships, but he did not bother with it; none of them were warships.

There wasn't a warship for as far as any of the probes' incredibly sensitive detectors could see, either in hyperspace or regular space; there weren't even any detectable hyperspatial disturbances to indicate a fleet lying in wait. It was unnerving.

Jonathan abandoned his fruitless scan of the readings and glanced to his left where Aidan Terling and Commander Rojsa Danuk stood before the weapons console discussing last-minute strategies. Neither looked particularly concerned by the inactivity around Terra.

He switched his gaze to the timer on the console before him. It had counted down to mere minutes. He glanced at the small comm screen that showed Stingray Two's bridge. Captain Mathan sat in his command chair, calmly watching an identical countdown; reserved, impassive, evidently unconcerned by the enemy's lack of activity as he waited for the signal to begin the attack.

Fine, Mathan, I'm worried enough for both of us.

Jonathan looked back to his boards, trying to ignore the uninformative readouts from the probes as he worked his way through the attack plan one last time.

The majority of Confederate vessels were not equipped with nelux hulls and ITDs, forcing them to travel through hyperspace or corridor to reach Terra, making the timing of their arrival a critical aspect of the attack. The two Stingrays and three other transfer-drive equipped ships—Dania Vel's heavy cruiser Cheops and two war-fitted heavy freighters—had to time their transfers as closely as possible to their companion ships' arrival.

Only the Confederate squadrons assigned to attack the massive system defense base on Mars had no need to worry about the timetable. Their arrival would coincide with the predicted launch of the Mars-based vessels toward Terra, enabling the Confederate ships to slip in and destroy the by-then virtually undefended ground base and long-range missile silos, and then intercept the Terran-bound Patrol forces before they reached their destination.

Terra's main Patrol bases in New San Francisco and Geneva would be handled by the remainder of the Confederate fleet arriving through hyperspace and, on the ground, by the Terran Guard forces. The five nelux-fitted vessels and the stasis-field-equipped fighters they carried would deal with the dreadnoughts and other large space-bound ships.

But where were those dreadnoughts and other vessels? Almost against his will, Jonathan glanced at the probes' unchanged readings. Success depended on the arrival of Gaunis and his bombs. If they did not arrive, it could only mean that Gaunis had decided to take advantage of the gathering of Confederate forces at Terra by moving against other Confederate worlds. The Stingrays and other ITD-equipped vessels could respond to those attacks and, without any heavy defense, Terra would fall to the remaining Confederate forces, but taking Terra was not the reason they had come. Gaunis was.

An alarm signaled the approaching end of the countdown and the upcoming ITD transfer. Jonathan watched the timer tick away the remaining seconds and tried to relax, telling himself he was growing accustomed to the varying traumas of transfer-shock. A second alarm sounded.

The bridge seemed to lurch, then it compressed to a two-dimensional structure, slapping Jonathan hard between bulkheads. A long moment passed during which he struggled to fill crushed lungs and make sense of a flattened reality, and then the room returned to normal. He glanced around breathlessly and wondered why this, of all transfers, had to be so dramatically uncomfortable.

On the main screen, Terra hung against a black backdrop, looking close enough to touch. In actuality, the image was magnified several times, the attack plan calling for the transfer to place Stingray One just outside the limit of Terra's standard sensor range. The planet's long-range scanning systems would be operating in expectation of the attack, but the Confederate forces had to pretend they didn't know that.

"All transfers successful, Captain," the sensor station reported. "Our ships are moving toward the planet. Picking up long-range sensor scans from the surface."

"Tell me if they get a fix on us." Jonathan was counting on the ships' nelux hulls to keep them hidden for at least a few minutes. "Dakk, transmit our greetings to Terra."

"Aye, sir."

He listened to the pre-recorded call for Terra's surrender and wondered when, where, and how Gaunis would show up. And with whom.

"Message transmitted, Captain. No response."

He wasn't surprised. "Sensors, you got anything?"

"Negative, Captain."

Jonathan rolled his gaze to where Terling sat at the weapons station with Rojsa. "Well?"

"He'll be here," Terling said with assurance.

"Captain, our hyperspace forces are beginning to arrive," the sensor officer said. "Terran offensive and defensive forces are mobilizing in response."

Jonathan nodded at the expected report.

"Sensors here. Something's got a lock on us, Captain."

"That's more like it," Jonathan said. "Evasive maneuvers, Aerhom. Now that they know we're here, let's try to break that lock. Sensors, any sign of the enemy fleet?"

"No, sir. Still nothing."

He frowned. The longer Gaunis hesitated in responding to the attack, the farther the Confederacy would have to carry the battle. And the longer the battle went on, the more people they were likely to lose—on both sides.

He signalled the fighter bay. "Reese, go ahead and launch. Have your ships spread out. Stay away from anything with nelux, and keep alert. Get on anything big as soon as it appears."

"Gotcha, Captain. Good luck."

Jonathan switched on his battle schematic and watched as the three-dimensional holographic interpretation of input from the barrage of sensing equipment materialized in the air before his station. The two Stingray markers were on roughly opposite sides of the dull bluish globe representing Terra; spaced evenly between them were the Cheops and the two nelux-hulled heavy freighters. Between them and the planet's surface, the Terran and Confederate forces were squaring off, moving in close enough for battle.

He estimated the number of enemy markers on the schematic and decided a worried expression was in order. There seemed to be far more enemy vessels than planned for, many of them coming from areas of the planet the Terran Guard forces had reported devoid of ships or bases.

"Captain, we've got missile launches from the surface," sensors reported. "Heading this way."

"Normal missiles?" Jonathan asked. He doubted Gaunis would launch his planet-busters from easily destroyed stationary ground sites.

"As far as I can tell. But they're damned big. And fast."

Jonathan noted the large swarm of red blips that appeared on the battle schematic. "Defense, are you on those missiles?"

"Aye, sir. We got 'em."

A salvo of anti-missiles blinked onto the schematic, streaking toward the enemy projectiles.

Above Terra, the battle commenced with the launch of the missiles. The Stingrays and other large Confederate vessels began firing selectively on assigned targets, both on the ground and in the air. Formations of the Confederacy's smaller ships dove on their own targets or engaged the vessels sweeping in to meet them. The unexpected number of Patrol ships forced many of the attackers to alter their trajectories, leaving undefended holes through which additional Patrol ships were flying to engage the fighter squadrons standing in defense of the nelux-equipped vessels.

Jonathan turned toward the weapons station, searching for Terling. He was gone, and Rojsa was busy directing Stingray One's attack. He located Terling at the communications post. He stood over one of the consoles, listening to a broadcast.

"Terling?"

The man glanced up, and then moved forward to Jonathan's station.

"Gaunis had his Mars forces waiting at Terra," Terling said. "That's where the extra ships are from."

"He left the Mars base undefended?"

"More than likely, he has some other way to defend it."

"Communications, any report from Mars?" Jonathan asked.

"Our forces have just arrived, sir. They're forming up for the approach to the planet. No resistance yet."

Jonathan shook his head. Something was wrong there. Gaunis would not surrender his installation on Mars merely to add to Terra's direct defense.

"Captain," Dakk called, "I've picked up something on hyperwave. Short pulsed transmissions, approximately five seconds apart. I was able to get a piece of one and unscramble it. It's a series of numbers interspersed with coded information. At first I thought the numbers were coordinates, but they don't correspond with any navigation system I'm familiar with." He shook his head in bemusement. "Maybe it's nothing at all."

"Where are the transmissions coming from, Lieutenant?"

"I'd guess they're being broadcast from somewhere on the planet, sir. There aren't any enemy vessels up here large enough to generate a hyperwave broadcast."

Jonathan nodded. Hyperwave broadcasts tended to be at right angles to reality—the best way to describe them without abstract mathematical symbology—making them appear omni-directional in normal space. The only way to locate the origin of such a broadcast was by using the fact that hyperwave broadcasts had to have a terrific kick at their source to enable them to punch through the barrier separating normal space from hyperspace. By watching for the burst of energy required to send such a message, there was a small chance the transmitter's location could be pinpointed at the instant it sent a message. But you had to be lucky enough to be looking in just the right place at just the right time.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Keep working on it, Dakk, and contact the rest of the fleet. Tell them what we're looking for, and destroy any transmitters you find. I want those transmissions stopped."

And until they were stopped, who in hell was receiving them? Sensors hadn't detected any ships within range, yet that did not mean there weren't any; they could be hiding. But how did one hide ships from sensors? Nelux hulls would do the trick, but the Patrol didn't have any, and besides, Stingray One's detectors should pick up at least some emanation from the vessels' systems.

Could the ships be in hyperspace, then? Sensors had detected no spatial disturbances to indicate any vessels waiting nearby, so maybe they were hovering way the hell out there, just on the other side of normal space, receiving signals from Terra. But was that possible? Could transmissions be received in hyperspace?

From what Jonathan knew of the theoretical laws that governed the convoluted domain of hyperspace, he could see no reason why not. Hovering around hyperspace waiting for a message was hardly practical under normal circumstances, but these were hardly normal circumstances.

"Captain." The sensor officer's call jerked Jonathan's attention from the theoretical realms of hyperspace to the more tangible reality of Stingray One's bridge. "We've got something big coming out of hyperspace near Mars. It looks like a dreadnought, sir."

Terling looked up from his study of the battle schematic, and Jonathan met his gaze.

"Gaunis is trying to make us split our forces," Terling said, with barely a moment's hesitation.

"He may have succeeded. Our forces at Mars don't stand much of a chance against a dreadnought."

"Under the circumstances, it may be advisable to sacrifice them."

Jonathan shook his head. "I won't sacrifice anyone. Dakk, get me the Cheops."

Terling started to protest.

"Captain Vel's more than a match for any admiral," Jonathan said. "And with the Cheops' new systems, she can take on a dreadnought."

"Can she take on two dreadnoughts?" Terling asked. "Or three?"

Jonathan signaled the comm post. "Lieutenant, belay that last order. Stand by. Sensors, give me an update on Mars. Could there be more than one dreadnought out there?"

The officer consulted his boards. "A single dreadnought and small fleet has appeared above the orbit of Mars. They are moving toward the planet. The flagship is Admiral Deroga's Zapahri." He looked at Jonathan. "There's no sign of any other large ships, sir."

Jonathan returned his gaze to Terling. "Any further recommendations?"

Terling stared into the tangle of glowing markers on the battle schematic without appearing to see it. Jonathan followed his gaze and studied the progress of the battle above Terra.

The Confederate forces were recovering from the unexpected presence of the additional Patrol ships and were slowly bringing the battle under control. Stingray One's squadrons had engaged a large group of enemy fighters that had broken through the first line of defense. Stingray One herself was aiding in the attack, as well as fending off missiles and doing damage to the ground targets she'd been assigned. Except for the absence of the admirals, the battle was progressing according to plan.

"It is possible that Gaunis planned his moves based on my involvement with the Confederacy," Terling answered at last. "He knows I would view this as an attempt to separate our forces, but would find the appearance of only a single dreadnought indicative of a bluff."

Jonathan instantly recognized the inverted logic to which Terling alluded. "In which case we'd only send a small force to intercept. But it's not a bluff at all. He'll have a large force waiting, and he'll destroy what's at Mars, plus whatever resistance we send, and then move on to Terra, probably with the other half of his forces coming in from the other side to box us in."

"Precisely." Terling looked pleasantly surprised by Jonathan's quick deduction. "And the Mars base will still be intact."

"The Cheops wouldn't stand a chance," Jonathan said, "but we would. And this is the very opportunity we came to Terra looking for. Dakk, let our forces know I'm taking Stingray One to Mars. ITD, prepare for transfer."

"You realize that we may be giving the High Admiral exactly what he wants," Terling said. "We'll be splitting our forces."

"If it will give him the confidence he needs to use his planet-busters, I'll gladly split them." Jonathan glanced up at a call from the ITD station.

"Where do you want me to put the ship, sir?"

"They'll expect us to appear between the Confederate forces and the Zapahri," Terling volunteered.

"Then that's one place we won't appear. ITD, let's come in moving. Position us for a quick pass between our forces and the Zapahri, Mars to port. Rojsa, prepare starboard offenses to take out the dreadnought's guns and missile batteries on the run, plus whatever part of the fleet you can hit. If you can use our port weapons to damage any part of the Mars base, do it. Aerhom, fly us around the Zapahri and we'll repeat the performance on its far-side emplacements."

"What if another dreadnought arrives?" Aerhom asked.

"We'll try the same thing on them. Just keep us moving. If we get any of those planet-busters after us, I want to be able to lure them into a good position for our EMP-reflectors before they detonate. ITD?"

"On your order, Captain."

He motioned Terling into a seat at the weapons station, and then nodded to the ITD officer. "Do it."

Intra-system transfers tended to be the most disorienting because of the gravitational effects of the nearby star, planets, and satellites. This transfer, Jonathan decided once he recovered enough to decide anything, was worse than that. But it was right on target.

On the main screen, the image of Mars appeared to port, its red-orange globe marked by small irregular caps of white and the tiny silver-white glimmerings of the Patrol's immense system defense base. The battle schematic altered; a dull orange ball formed in place of Terra's blue globe and the myriad ship markers vanished, replaced by the moving wedge shape of the Stingray, the stationary bulk of a dreadnought, and the peppering of smaller Confederate and Patrol ships moving toward the Mars base.

Already, Stingray One had begun her attack run, angling between Mars and the Zapahri. The Patrol fleet ignored the black ship's attack. They continued toward Mars to intercept the Confederate ships that were beginning to turn back to meet them. The dreadnought loosed dozens of missiles as Stingray One dove in, and then turned her energy weapons on the anti-missiles the black ship launched in response.

Jonathan watched the approaching missiles with an odd mixture of apprehension and eagerness, but his sensor officer assured him they were all standard projectiles. No planet-busters yet.

"Captain, communications here. I just picked up another one of those pulsed hyperwave transmissions. It contains the same type of information as the Terran broadcasts."

"Do what you can to find the transmitter and destroy it," Jonathan ordered, and then glanced at the battle schematic again.

Stingray One had completed her first pass. She had taken only minor damage from the Zapahri's missiles, but had left large areas of the dreadnought's armor in tatters and many of the Patrol ship's weapon emplacements severely damaged or completely destroyed. The black ship continued to maneuver in a tight arc around the enemy vessel, firing constantly.

The dreadnought rotated to keep its most heavily armed and shielded face toward its enemy. Its energy weapons pulsed pinpoint beams at the wounds in the black ship's hull. Beyond the Zapahri, Patrol and Confederate ships battled above Mars, the Patrol forces assisted by weapons fired from the base below them.

Jonathan requested a close-in scan of the area immediately above the base, and then studied the information the schematic imparted. He noted two encouraging signs in rapid succession. First, the Confederate ships were holding their own against the Patrol fleet. Second, the majority of shots from the base were aimed not at the battle raging in the sky above, but at a group of Confederate vessels that had come in daringly low to commence a destructive run over the base.

Most of the shots from the base missed the darting, low-flying targets or were deflected by their shields. The attacking force had already left one section of the base a jumble of smoking ruin. As long as no further resistance appeared, the Mars base wouldn't be a threat for much longer. And despite Terling's belief that more dreadnoughts would arrive at Mars, it did not appear that further resistance was forthcoming.

"Captain, sensors here. I think I've got what we've been waiting for."

And then again…

"Report."

"I— Hold on, sir, it's… Got it. Damn, look at that." The officer's voice held a mixture of wonder and surprise. "On your schematic, Captain."

Jonathan turned his worried gaze toward the battle schematic.

The close-up view of the Mars base switched to center on the moving form of Stingray One. The Teneian ship was on the side of the Zapahri facing open space. Heatwave-like shimmerings had appeared far fore and aft of the black vessel, signaling the arrival of fleets or single large vessels through hyperspace. But there seemed to be something wrong with the area of the holographic display immediately surrounding Stingray One's indicator, causing it to waver and distort.

What in hell…?

Then he realized what it could mean.

"Sensors, are those all hyperspace disturbances?"

"Yes, sir. Some of them are just a few kilometers from the ship."

A few kilometers? No wonder the schematic was having trouble representing them.

"What are they?"

"I'm trying to get a fix, Captain, but they keep moving, like they're trying to keep abreast of us. Just a moment…"

Jonathan looked at the main screen. The stars and planetscape flexed oddly, as if viewed through a flawed pane of glass. Far beyond the effect, a dreadnought winked into view. On the side screen that showed a view to the aft of Stingray One, a fleet of smaller ships materialized. Half of them dove for Mars; the remainder fanned out in an encircling formation, and then slowed, holding their positions.

"That's the Taleris, Captain," sensors reported, "Admiral Len's dreadnought. The Zapahri's moving away from us, closer to Mars."

Jonathan tore his gaze from the bizarre scene on the main viewer long enough to use his battle schematic to determine the relative positions of the major players.

The Patrol ships were staying well back, keeping out of range of Stingray One's weapons, but their appearance had been unnervingly precise. Stingray One was now almost completely surrounded, not only by the mysterious hyperspace shimmerings, but by the more tangible threat of two dreadnoughts, as well as a formidable fleet of smaller vessels.

But there was a gap in the Patrol's coverage, a gap Jonathan felt a third dreadnought would have filled perfectly. Smaller vessels were breaking formation to rush in and fill the opening. Had something gone awry with one of their transfers?

"They're missiles, Captain!"

Jonathan's gaze snapped back to the screen at the sensor officer's announcement.

"The objects appearing around us out of hyperspace… They're missiles. Several different kinds, two to ten meters in length. Some of them are heavily armored."

Hyperspace missiles? Impressed by the ingenuity and possibilities behind such a device, Jonathan stared at the screen.

In the instant it took for the first of the deadly projectiles to materialize around Stingray One, every inexplicable thing that had occurred since the battle countdown ended fell into place in Jonathan's mind.

The ships that made up the Patrol fleet must have been waiting in hyperspace for the arrival of the Confederate forces, and were using the information contained in the hyperwave broadcasts to determine coordinates for their return to normal space. No wonder they had appeared in such perfect formation around Stingray One.

The fact that the ships had to wait far enough from Terran space to avoid having their presence picked up as ripples in the hyperspatial barrier and then use their drives to force emergence points in precise locations explained the Patrol fleet's delayed arrival. And the fact that so many ships had been there on the other side of the barrier—even as distant as they must have been—would explain the difficulty of the two ITD transfers. That much disturbance was sure to affect the ability of an ITD to cut a clean transfer path.

It all made perfect sense. And some of the missiles appearing around the Stingray now must be carrying Gaunis's planet-busters. He had to warn Mathan and the others at Terra.

"Rojsa, destroy as many of those missiles as you can! Dakk, get me an open channel to our forces at Terra."

"Sorry, Captain, communications are useless. There's too much interference from—"

There was no time to listen to the rest. "ITD, any chance for a transfer?"

"Negative, sir. Not with the interference from—"

A mind-numbing explosion of light and sound swallowed the remainder of the ITD officer's words. It burned through the bridge, blinding, deafening, and then faded almost instantly to total black.

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