Rebel by Mike Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page A

enthusiastic about firing the first shot, not on his own Navy, but he is an honorable man. Speaking of your Mr. Blue, it is one thing to switch squawkers from one ship to the next. It is another thing to have sensors report that the reactors match those the database has for those ships. How will he manage that?”
    Vicky shrugged. “I have no idea. I certainly have no idea how to do it myself. Do you know anyone on board more likely to come up with such an idea?”
    The admiral chuckled. “Not on my life.”
    “So, sir, shall we enjoy this delicious goulash before it gets too much colder and trust more twisted brains than ours to come up with what we need?”
    “I doubt,” Mannie said, “that there are more twisted brains in the worlds than those seated around this table.”
    That got a general laugh, and they returned to their dinner with a hearty appetite.

CHAPTER 7
 
    E ARLY the next morning, the Retribution led a small task force away from High St. Petersburg Station. The Rostock quickly slipped into the lead while the putative Attacker and Kamchatka pulled up the rear.
    Vicky and Mannie stood beside Admiral von Mittleburg on the flag bridge of the Retribution . Lieutenant Blue had a station just off to their right. Mr. Smith had pulled up a seat at the lieutenant’s elbow and was dividing his attention between the sensor station and his own computer.
    The admiral eyed the spy but kept his opinions to himself.
    “Tell me, Lieutenant Blue,” Vicky said when the young officer paused from what he had been so intently doing. “The reactors on the Sovereign s are not the same as the heavy cruisers they are trying to pass for. How do you propose we pull that off?”
    “We can’t, Your Grace. Reactors can’t be faked.”
    “So, as soon as their sensor team gets a good look at the reactors on those ships,” the admiral snapped, “they will know we are faking it.”
    “Yes and no, sir.”
    “That is not an answer, Lieutenant,” the admiral growled, his poor humor getting worse.
    “It’s the only answer I can give you, sir. What the other ships’ sensors will actually get off all our ships, including the Rostock and the Retribution will be hash, sir. One of my petty officers came up with this noisemaker idea that we’ve installed in all four of our ships. They will generate all sorts of static where a sensor usually finds data on reactors. When the captain of the oncoming cruisers asks his sensor officer to identify the ships coming at him, he will have to painfully answer that there is something wrong with his instruments. He has some data, but it might be right. It might be wrong. He just isn’t sure.”
    Mannie barked a laugh. “I’ve never met a Navy officer who didn’t like to be sure of himself. That is going to be one painful report to make and receive.”
    “No doubt,” the admiral admitted dryly.
    The short line of ships decelerated to pass close aboard St. Petersburg, then accelerated into a much higher orbit. At apogee, it would bring them close to the incoming ships, putting the decelerating convoy’s vulnerable rears in the Retribution ’s crosshairs while the cruiser’s guns were far out of range.
    That would be the critical time for this battle. If it was to become a battle.
    The Wittenberg , Augsburg , and Ulm continued to lead the transports, each ship keeping a comfortable five-hundred-kilometer interval. The trade convoy from Presov now docilely trailed the first group, a thousand kilometers from Golden Empress 3 to the Biter , then five hundred klicks between each freighter.
    The clock ticked off the seconds as the ships closed.
    “ Retribution will be in extreme range of Wittenberg in one minute,” Lieutenant Blue reported.
    “Very well,” Admiral von Mittleburg said. “Open a communications channel between me and Wittenberg . Wide beam and in the clear for anyone who wishes to listen in.”
    “Done,” a chief communications tech answered, and a small window opened on the