Chapter 17: The Enemy Revealed

FOR NEARLY seven days, the convoy of seven NME freighters and twelve Space Command warships had sped away from the Earth-Moon system. The warships flew in a spherical configuration about five miles in diameter, at the center of which were the unmanned freighters in compact formation. The urgency of the mission gave the convoy no choice but to utilize the most direct route to the site of deployment, so that the probes could be put into action at the earliest possible time. There was simply no time to follow any evasive flight plan. On the success of the microwave net rode the hope of Earth’s survival from the threat of impact with the enormous asteroid Lurton Zimbardo had unleashed.

“There they are!” announced Mr. Lather, pilot of the Silver Cloud, as he looked at the radar screen. He was followed closely by five other pirate spacecraft. Two other groups of six pirate ships were nearby, also searching the area of space in front of them for the convoy. “Inform Bolcher and Crass and give them the coordinates. Tell them that since I was the first to locate the freighters, I will attack first. Their ships will follow me according to our plan.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Lather,” responded the Silver Cloud’s navigator. The communication was completed and the details of the plan agreed upon. Then the intership communications system was deactivated. The pirates’ ships, being sheathed to radar, were equally invisible to each other as to the men of Space Command, but each pirate captain knew where the others were supposed to be. The ships usually communicated by closed-system radio and thereby kept in close contact with each other, but now they could not risk revealing their position by engaging in radio contact when they were in the proximity of other ships.

Moments went by without a word being said. Lather could feel the adrenaline surging through him. He was eager to give the command to attack.

“One minute!” he announced to his own crew. “All hands prepare for battle!” After the designated time had elapsed, he shouted, “Go!”

Followed by five spaceships protected by the radar bender, he sped undetected through the sphere of Space Command warships. On the screen before him the massive freighters loomed up. “Fire!” he shouted. “Fire! Fire!”

A laser cannon locked onto one freighter and ripped open its hull. In seconds the Silver Cloud was past it and through the other side of the sphere. Behind him came another pirate ship, and then another. As each passed through the sphere, it fired laser cannons at the freighters.

None of the lasers struck a vital point in any freighter’s fuel system, but the potent cannons, each set on highest power, ripped into the unmanned ships and tore them open to the vacuum. Lather’s six ships shot through the sphere of guard ships without being detected or even shot it, but none of the freighters had exploded. Lather cursed when he saw that the damage he had inflicted was not crippling.

The Space Command warships were immediately aware of the attack and began to scatter the freighters by remote control. Some freighters decelerated, others accelerated, still others moved away from the center. Now the pirates would have a more difficult challenge to destroy the NME ships.

As his fleet circled, Lather waited to see what Bolcher’s ships would do. He knew where Bolcher was supposed to be but could not communicate with him without revealing his position to the warships of Space Command. Lather could only watch the screen.

Suddenly one of the freighters exploded into incandescent fury. The detonation destroyed the two freighters closest to the one that Bolcher’s ship had hit. Within seconds a fourth freighter erupted into flame as its fuel system ignited. The three remaining freighters began to weave in a random pattern, and the Space Command warships began to close in, reducing the window of access to the center of the field.

Crass’ ships began to zoom toward the remaining freighters, laser cannons ready. Being the most experienced pilot, Crass was confident that his team could eliminate the last three ships. Coming in at a fast clip, each pirate ship only seconds after its predecessor, Crass’ crew strafed the freighters, scoring two direct hits.

With a grin of satisfaction, Lather saw that he would have one more chance to attack. The protective warships had drawn into a very tight formation to protect the last freighter. Its hulk was already torn with a long rip, but its engine still worked and it responded to controls. The freighter turned and twisted in a random, spiraling forward motion with the warships close around it. Lather brought the Silver Cloud in for the kill.

Shooting smoothly through an opening in the protecting ships’ formation, he saw his target and fired. The last freighter blew up almost in his face. All seven freighters-and their contents-had been turned into diminutive pieces of whirling space junk. The Silver Cloud sped through the detritus and passed the far boundary of warships. As soon as he had passed the last Space Command ship, three of them fired at him almost at once. Though he was invisible to radar, he was visible to the eye at the moment he was close to the exploding freighter.

One Space Command laser pierced the Silver Cloud-a narrow but tight beam. The shaft of weaponlight punctured the crew’s living quarters, and air began to escape from the pirates’ spacecraft. Automatic seals quickly stopped the leak and Lather sped on. The exultation he had felt at having fired the final destructive bolt had instantly changed into a cold dread at his narrow escape. Followed by the other pirate ships, he sped on, back toward the great asteroid where Lurton Zimbardo awaited news of their successful mission.

Commander Benjamin Bennett of the Space Command ship Ignis sat motionless for ten minutes after the last freighter had blown up. He was a topflight career space pilot who governed one of the few standard Space Command Fleets of Twelve. His black hair showed no signs of gray. Because of his unspotted record and eminent trustworthiness, he had been given the responsibility for guarding the freighters. Usually looking much younger than his forty-one years, now he appeared much older.

No one approached him. Then he spoke, as if into the air.

“I suppose the pirates are gone now.”

“So it would appear, sir,” said a crewman.

“Obviously they weren’t concerned with destroying us-just the freighters. I suppose in the long run it amounts to the same thing, though.” No one responded. “Please raise headquarters and hand me the communicator.” A crew member complied. Commander Bennett took the communicator. His message was terse but complete: pirates had attacked the convoy and all seven freighters had been lost.

Twelve minutes later the news came into Starlight Enterprise and was tranferred immediately to Richard Starlight, who was at work in his office. He finished listening to the message, then turned and looked out over the stark moonscape. Slowly, he smiled.

The next day, just after noon, Richard was again in his office. Joining him for lunch were John Rwakatare, Robert Nolan, Beowulf Denn, and Commander John Lewis and a few other visitors from Space Command. Though the food was delicious, the meal was a dismal affair. Long faces and few words expressed the atmosphere of the gathering.

Richard, however, and Robert seemed not to share the gloom. Richard was an attentive host, carefully seeing to his guests’ needs. “A little more water, John?” he asked, offering the crystal decanter. “Could you please pass the biscuits, Robert? Thank you. Good, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Rick, they are, especially for biscuits made on the Moon,” responded the head of NME. “Your chef is highly skilled.”