Buccari nodded at Hudson's words. They had reseized the initiative.
* * *
Quinn felt the lander slip its moorings and accelerate laterally. She clutched her data pad, tightened her restraints, and suppressed her fears. The EPL was floating free in orbit, drifting alongside the greater bulk of the corvette. She shared the passenger compartment with Godonov and two Marines. It would not be long now.
"Lander's clear," the EPL pilot reported.
"Roger," Carmichael answered. "Reentry window in ten minutes. Let's look sharp. We may not have too many chances to get on the ground. You're cleared for retroburn."
"Aye, Skipper," the pilot replied. "Checking good."
"Commander Quinn," Carmichael transmitted, "Your pilot's got orders to return to the ship within five orbits. If you need more time, give me some warning. We're on a short leash. Good luck with your search."
"I understand, Commander," she replied. "And thanks."
* * *
"I urge-ah caution," Et Silmarn said as they marched over the cinders. "Colonel Longo wishes your people to walk-ah onto his lander. Letting Huhsawn and me go is...gamble. Longo think it-ah make him look-ah honest. Is good gamble. Where I go without-ah compressor fuel?"
Buccari glanced over her shoulder. Longo stood watching them.
"Where's the fleet, Nash?" she asked. "In orbit? How many ships?"
"Can't be sure, Sharl," Hudson replied. "Kateos says at least one corvette is in orbit. I tried to get a message out, but there's no way of knowing if it was received."
They marched over the devastated ground. Her exultation at the fleet's return had dampened; the realities of their predicament were overwhelming.
"Can't trust Longo," Buccari said. She set her jaw and stared straight ahead; but he fleet's return had changed the equation. Rescue was now a possibility.
"Longo is up to something, Sharl," Hudson said. "He threw Dowornobb and Kateos in the brig and tried to prevent me from communicating. His sincerity needs a lot of work."
"Colonel Longo speak-ah for my government-ah," Et Silmarn said. "To my government-ah you are threat-ah. You will be attacked."
"We didn't attack your planet!" Hudson almost shouted. "But-ah can you prove it-ah?" Et Silmarn asked.
"No, of course not," Buccari said. "Not without time and the ability to communicate with our ships."
"Not-ah matter," Et Silmarn said. "The governments of my planet-ah will not-ah wait-ah. They have taken vows to destroy all attackers."
As they crossed the blackened land, Buccari juggled the implications of the noblekone' s warning. They rendezvoused with Wilson on the blasted and littered beach and moved faster, their withdrawal obscured by forest. MacArthur and Chastain were farther down the beach. Buccari started jogging, collecting the Marines on the run. Passing MacArthur, she was startled by the cracking wings of a cliff dweller taking flight from a nearby tree.
"Tonto," MacArthur said, shaking Hudson's hand. "He's worried too."
"The fleet's back, Mac," Buccari said, and her eyes welled with tears. No one noticed.
Chapter 41
Confrontation
Runacres stared at the quiescent status panels. Fleet radars were suppressed, and passive detectors revealed no alien signals— no radars, no lasers, no electromagnetic transmissions on any wavelength. Nothing, for weeks now. Runacres was anxious to get Quinn's lander down on the planet. Once he had his people back, then he could think about other options, like how hard to fight for the chance of winning a planet. How badly did the people of Earth need a new home? How desperately?
"Admiral, Peregrine has activity on visual sensors," the tactical officer reported. They have confirmed objects eclipsing stars."
"Identification? Any trajectory estimate?" Runacres asked. "No, sir. Attempting to develop parallax triangulation." "Has Peregrine launched her EPL?" Runacres asked.
"Apple's out of the bay. Approaching envelope. Retroburn imminent."
"Keep me informed," Runacres ordered.
"Aye, aye, Admiral."
Runacres stared at the blank situation plots. He could ill afford to wait. His best strategy was to engage early, picking off attackers at long range.
"Franklin, have Tasmania go active. Link to fleet tactical," Runacres ordered.
"Aye, aye, Admiral," Wells replied. "Tasmania to go active immediately! Patch data to central operations. Tasmania go active, now!"
Tasmania's search radars exploded into search mode. Electromagnetic pulses radiated omnidirectionally, reaching out for solid surfaces from which to rebound. The main situation plot glowed subtly, shifting through muted tones of magenta and blue as it tuned to the datalink.