Confederation -- 23

Chapter 23

Four hours later, we'd moved the ship into an orbit that passed directly along the north-south axis of the Motherland Army's battle line every seventy minutes. I was satisfied that we were in position, so I called Jake and told him to have his men get out of the way.

We were just coming over the top of Canada, heading southward, when Jake radioed that all of his commanders had received the order to fall back. They were to wait until two hours after noon and then move rapidly back to the west. I calculated that would place us somewhere over central Asia when they started moving. It would take us about thirty minutes after that to be in position to fire. That timing was just about what we'd decided upon in our meeting.

Jake's message had ordered the fall-back but not explained why. We didn't want the enemy to know what was coming if they happened to get lucky and capture a messenger.

Immediately before the retreat, all of the Denver defensive artillery was to fire for ten minutes. The hope was that the enemy would believe the artillery barrage was intended to mask the retreat. If the Motherland commander was as aggressive as I believed him to be, he'd order an advance as soon as the shells stopped falling. That would potentially put many of his men in the path of our anti-matter strafing pass.

I wanted to drive the Motherland Army back, although I didn't think one pass would eradicate it. Practically speaking, any reduction in their force would be desirable.

Our ship moved inexorably around the globe from the night side to the daytime of the western hemisphere.

Over Canada, the monitor system displayed the enemy lines under extreme magnification. We could see that they were moving forward at a rapid pace. I was in an agony of worry. We were too far out as yet to start shooting since too much atmosphere would weaken the anti-matter pulses. I mentally urged the ship to hurry. I didn't dare let the Motherland troops mix into the defenders' lines. There would be nothing I could do then. Shooting under that circumstance would kill as many of our side as of them.

We'd over-charged all four of our cannons by thirty percent. I intended to shoot each in sequence. The ship was oriented so that the bow gun, one of the waist guns, and the tail gun would fire in close sequence. Then we'd rotate axially and fire the other waist gun as we moved away from the Denver area. Frazzle had told me that over-charging the weapons wasn't a recommended strategy. Still, they would handle a limited number of extra-high power shots before they began to suffer erosion of the capture chamber and barrel.

Time seemed to crawl, but finally, we were directly above the northern end of the enemy line. We began to fire a steady stream of anti-matter pulses at them.

The last time we'd used this technique, I'd been on the ground, so I'd seen the effect from that perspective. It had been impressive. There had been a giant ripping sound as if a mile-wide strip of velcro was being separated. The anti-matter bolt had erased everything on the surface and created a five-foot-deep trench a mile or so wide.

It was nearly as impressive from orbit. You could see the ground change from green to a barren, brown strip. The monitors were focused on the area directly in front of the beam, and we could see that a significant fraction of the Motherland Army was in the direct path. I thought that they might lose half of their force. Even so, that would still not give Jake an advantage. He could only field about a third of their number.

We'd completed the pass and were rapidly moving toward the equator when Jake radioed that the enemy was in disarray and was retreating. He was flying along their rear, shooting his shuttle's plasma weapon at them as they fled. He sounded exultant and was full of praise for the strategy as we moved out of radio range.

When we came back into range about an hour later, he was still pleased, even though he'd found out that over a thousand of his men had failed to fall back far enough and were now gone. He blamed it on incompetent group commanders.

The next orbit showed that the Motherland commander had rallied his troops, and they were now firing their artillery at Jake's lines. We were able to locate some of their batteries and erase them with short anti-matter pulses, but there were too many to get them all during the brief window we had.

We shot a few more during our next pass. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the shadows from the front range peaks were extending outwards toward the battle line. It would soon be dark, and we didn't want to shoot then. It was a little too difficult to tell who was friend and who was foe in the dark.

Jake called us and said that the Motherland commander had a working field radio and had called. He'd demanded Jake's surrender and gotten laughed at for his pains. Shortly after that, we picked up a call from the enemy commander addressed to all 'spaceships.'

He was offering to withdraw under cover of night, provided we would cease shooting at his forces. I looked at Liz, and she agreed. I called him back and told him to get his men moving back toward the east. By morning, I wanted them to be at least ten miles eastward of their current position. They agreed.

Morning came, and we could see that the Motherland forces were gradually withdrawing. Some of them hadn't made the ten-mile limit yet, but I didn't fire on them. They were close to that point.

During the day, Jake and the Motherland commander worked out a sort of uneasy truce. They agreed to back up a hundred miles as long as we didn't shoot at them from orbit.

I thought they'd use the respite to regroup and reinforce themselves while carrying out some form of spying or infiltration. I hadn't gotten the impression that they were ready to back off as yet; however, Jake had agreed to the truce, so we complied.

I left the FTL ship in the same orbital plane, but Frazzle moved it up to the extreme edge of the near-earth zone. There were possible conflicts with satellites and junk that were orbiting at a little lower altitude. We thought it best to move out of the way of possible collisions. The ship's bow armor and shield could handle minor strikes at orbital velocities, but there was no sense in risking damage.

Liz had taken Hattie under her care, and the girl was starting to recover from her harrowing experiences. She had been cleaned up thoroughly, and Liz had cut her hair, getting rid of the tangles and matted clumps. Now, she looked like a startlingly-pretty, high-school-age, brown-haired girl with blue eyes and a wary, suspicious attitude.

I couldn't blame her for her suspicion. She'd seen her parents killed and had killed several raiders herself. She'd walked for well over a hundred miles in occupied, enemy territory, avoiding capture, and she'd rescued me. Now she was in a spaceship along with two kinds of alien creatures that she'd never heard of, and she was finding it challenging to adapt.

I came into our cabin from the bridge and found Hattie and Liz playing with Rowan. The baby was laughing, and Hattie had a relaxed smile for the first time since I'd met her. She'd grinned at me a few times, but those had been tense grimaces more than genuine smiles.

Rowan rolled over, and Hattie tickled her, eliciting more laughter. I walked around the little group and noticed that Jefferson, always the opportunist, was curled in Hattie's lap. I extended my mental perception to the cat and realized that he had a distinct attitude of helping. He recognized Hattie's distress and was doing his best to help her out of it. He was a lot more sensitive than his numerous scars would indicate.

"Liz, I'm going to have to go back down to meet with Jake. We've got to make plans to free the remaining Sunny planets," I said.

Hattie looked up and asked, "The Sunnys – are they all harmless and friendly?"

I'd noticed that she had held back from contact with them, but I'd thought that she was just shy. From her question, it appeared that she had some doubts about their relationship with humans.

Liz answered her, "Yes, dear. They are very friendly, and they've got a mental block that won't allow them to think about violence. In a sense, we are their protectors. Besides that, I trust them. Frazzle's wife, Red, usually babysits Rowan. You'd have met her before now, but she's taken some time off. She's pregnant, and it's about time for her to lay her own egg."

Hattie's eyes grew very wide. "She's going to lay an egg?" she asked incredulously.

I said, "That's right. The Sunnys are egg layers. They lay one egg, and the baby hatches in a few months. Then they raise it in much the same fashion we raise our babies. The Sim-tigers –"

She interrupted, "I'm scared of them. They look so fierce."

I started to continue, but now Liz interrupted me. She'd recognized that I was starting to lecture, something of which she disapproved.

She said, "The Sim-tigers give birth to live cubs. They look fierce because they are. They're excellent fighters. Dec has gotten them to ally with humans, so they are our friends also. I'll introduce you to them more closely, and you'll find that they are caring and gentle with us."

Hattie started to speak, but then Liz added, "They do have a wicked sense of humor, though. They can be a little insensitive. You just have to remember that human rules don't come naturally to them."

Hattie asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, for instance, I know their leader, "Kasm' likes me. He's Dec's close friend, and I think he'd die trying to protect me, but he always fondles my behind as a greeting."

She hastened to add, "It's not a sexual thing. It's more like how we pat dogs or stroke cats in greeting. It startled me at first, but I've gotten used to it. Don't be surprised if one of them pats your rear."

Hattie laughed at the imagined action, "That's crazy. How do you greet them?"

I answered, "There's no problem with putting your hand on their shoulders or back. They don't care to be patted on the head, though. They'll allow it, but I think touching the head is an intimate thing for them. It's probably seen as a sexual sort of act. Maybe like a kiss is for us."

She sighed, "There's a lot I don't know. Are you going to send me back to Earth?" Then with a slight tremor in her voice, she added, "Or, can I stay here – with you?"

Liz looked at me, and I smiled. Liz reached out and pulled Hattie into a light embrace, saying, "You can stay here with us as long as you want. We'll make sure you learn everything you need."

I added, "Hattie, you saved my life. I'm not going to forget that. You've got a home as a part of our family as long as you want."

The girl looked even younger in my wife's embrace. She looked over Liz's shoulder at me with her eyes wide, and when I nodded affirmatively, she buried her face in Liz's neck and started to sob.

"I – I – my parents were poor, and the soldiers killed them – I – didn't know what was going to happen to me. I've been trying to be as hard and tough as I can, but it – it still hurts inside," she said through her tears.

"I know, I know, but you're safe here. Dec and I won't let anything happen to you. You can stay on the ship and maybe even learn to fly it. I'll ask Frazzle to teach you," Liz said.

"That would be nice," Hattie responded, wiping her eyes. "Flying in space. Are there any bad guys in space?"

"Unfortunately, there are, but we're working on getting rid of them too," I said. "Now I've got to go down and make sure Jake can survive while we go and rescue the Sunnys."

Liz stood and embraced me. We kissed while Hattie looked away in embarrassment. I patted her shoulder as I started to leave, and she surprised me by whirling and hugging me also. I responded gently, looking at Liz over Hattie's head. My wife smiled in a motherly sort of way and said, "Go take care of your business. We'll be fine here."