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Earth Synchorbit

1725 hours, EST

Admiral Gray settled back in his command chair on the flag bridge. The area was located just aft of the main bridge and acouple of meters above it—insofar as anything in microgravity could be said to be “above” or “below.” From this vantage point,Gray could look “down” into the bustle of the main bridge, where Captain Rand was overseeing final preparations for gettingunder way.

Gray opened a mental channel. “Konstantin?”

“Here, Admiral.”

“You’re sure that virus is eliminated?”

“Yes, Admiral. The actual solution was fairly simple once we identified the problem. I copied the environmental control softwarewithout the virus, and then made a substitution. I would recommend, however, that you cut electronic connections with the port facilityas quickly as you can, to prevent other viruses from being transmitted on board.”

“Any idea as yet where the thing came from?”

“Software viruses rarely have serial numbers or ID code, Admiral. I can say with some confidence that it has the earmarks of an intelligence operation.”

“Intelligence! Whose?”

“Unknown, Admiral. A number of agencies within our own government have the capability of launching such an attack. Indeed,a private individual could have been responsible. We can make some educated guesses, however.”

“Our own government? I think I’m way ahead of you.”

“It was not foreign, no. I should say, however, that the intrusion appears to have been someone simply wishing to delay ourdeparture.”

“Does it go as high as the Oval Office?”

“President Koenig believes it does. I, however, see no proof as yet of Walker’s direct involvement. This could be a case similarto Henry II asking, ‘Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?’ His knights then murdered Thomas Becket, leaving the king’shands clean.”

“Understood. Captain Rand!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are we ready for space?”

“Ready in all respects, Admiral. All members of the crew are accounted for, all systems are green.”

“Very well. You may take us out of dock at your discretion.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Over his in-head, Gray sent a command to the other ships of the small squadron—the destroyers Arlington and Seare, the cruiser Birmingham, and the supply tanker Acadia. Initiate departure . . .

“Cast off all magnetics and grapples,” Rand commanded. “Maneuvering aft, one-tenth G. . . .”

Gray felt the gentle nudge of acceleration as the immense ship moved backward, pushed along by plasma thrusters and several port tugs. Starships could not use their gravitic drives anywhere in the vicinity of orbital structures like Quito Synchorbital, not without causing serious structural damage, so considerable caution was employed in maneuvering close aboard.

A dozen cameras threw as many different views of the ship up on large screens around the flag bridge. On one screen to hisleft, the camera view was from the prow of one of the port tugs. As the ship edged out of the shadow cast by the dock andinto full sunlight, Gray could see a spacesuited figure jetting off toward the bottom of the screen, getting clear . . . aperfect visual reference speaking to the sheer size of the carrier. Her sandblasted shield cap was emblazoned in letters tenmeters high: America.

Beyond, two shark-lean destroyers were edging out of port in tandem, the Arlington and the Seare.

“Maneuver us clear,” Rand said. “Nav . . . lay in a course for our first way point.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Had someone within the USNA government tried to delay them? Gray wondered. A distinct possibility . . . and not a pleasantone. It raised again the old question of treason, and of disregarding orders.

But they were committed now. No matter what.

Long minutes passed, and then the word came through from each of the ships in the squadron. Clear of the dock. Ready in allrespects to engage drive.

“Admiral?” Rand asked.

Gray nodded. “Punch it.”

And the flotilla slid forward into the night.

CIS CV Moskva

Pluto Space

2312 hours, GMT

Kapitan Pervogo Ranga Yuri Yuryevich Oreshkin read the orders appearing within his mind again, and scowled. This made no sense whatsoever. WasDefense Minister Vasilyev trying to start a war with the Americans?

The star carrier Moskva was the most recent addition to the Russian Federation’s space fleet, a kilometer-and-a-half-long monster, a needle-slenderspine behind a blunt, bullet-shaped shield cap. Carrying eight squadrons of brand-new Yastreb space fighters, plus six destroyer-sized escort vessels riding in a bundle close against the Moskva’s spine, she’d been launched eight months ago as a direct response to the attack by the Consciousness utility fog on Earthin 2426.

Now he—Russian ships were always referred to in the masculine—was returning to the Sol System from the colony world of Osiris,bringing along a handful of alien warriors trapped there during the fighting two decades ago. The Russian carrier had justchecked in at Pluto on a routine show-the-flag call. On the vast, heart-shaped Sputnik Planitia, a joint American, Pan-Euro,and Chinese expedition funded by the IBRI was boring for water. The damned Chinese, Oreshkin thought with a grim smile, hadprobably shit their environmental suits when the Moskva had shown up in their sky!

But Moskva had simply made a few orbits, exchanged pleasantries with the radio watch on the surface, then accelerated once more intothe empty void between Pluto and Neptune. On Earth, Russia was at war with the Chinese . . . but Moskva’s orders were to stay clear of Chinese assets in space, not to interfere with them unless they posed a clear threat to theRussian state.

Now, however, before he could carry his load of prisoners to a receiving base on Mars, Moskva’s orders were abruptly being changed. Defense Minister Dimitri Vasilyev himself had transmitted them from the Kremlin, acrossa gulf that had taken six hours to bridge by laser com. An American carrier battlegroup would be departing very soon fromQuito Synchorbital, along with several escorting vessels, en route to the Penrose TRGA. Moskva was to intercept that battlegroup and destroy it, leaving no survivors.

The risk, Oreshkin thought, was enormous. If there were survivors, if any ships of the American battlegroup managed to escape, the repercussions could well lead to war with the USNA both on Earth and across space.

But Vasilyev’s orders could not be ignored or disobeyed. Moskva’s sensors had detected the acceleration of the America . . . though those signals by now were six hours old.

“Captain Oreshkin,” Mikhail Kulinin said. “You have reviewed these . . .