The Star Carrier Series Books 1-3: Earth Strike, Centre of Gravity, Singularity. Ian Douglas

and the rest of the fleet had retreated as well. Koenig hadn’t understood what the Turusch had been doing at the time, but he thought he saw their reasoning now. They tended to take the long view, conserving forces, avoiding unnecessary damage, and where possible, outwaiting the enemy.

      In fact, it was possible that the Sh’daar were actually running the show … and that implied an even greater conservatism. If it was true that the mysterious Sh’daar had been around for half a billion years, they, likely, would be even more loath to make a hasty move or a snap judgment. The fact that fifty-five years had passed between the first human contact with the Spiders and the Sh’daar Ultimatum seemed to confirm that guess. The Sh’daar were cautious, moving slowly, taking their time to decide the best course, and taking no chances.

      The Senate Military Directorate was playing it cautious as well, it seemed. By holding the majority of the Confederation fleet at Solar One, they would be in a position to move to either Mars or Earth once the Turusch approach path was known with precision. Admiral Caruthers would be planning a defensive fight; the Senate would be urging him to keep the fleet close to Earth, and not to take chances.

      The problem was that if the Sh’daar/Turusch warfleet had decided to attack the Sol System, they would be coming in “loaded for bear”—an extinct mammal, Koenig gathered, that had been massive, extremely fierce, and hard to kill. In fact …

      Koenig’s brow wrinkled as he took another look at the tactical updates. The display still showed thirty-three Turusch ships at an emergence point within the constellation Pisces. Neptune, currently, was in Taurus, some 30 degrees further east.

      A number of things were not adding up.

      The presumed initial destination of the enemy fleet, of course, was Neptune. The Confederation base on Triton had been destroyed five hours ago. By now, the High Guard ships that had helped pass the word of the initial attack would have reached Neptune; their report—if they survived to make one—would not reach Earth for another three and a half hours.

      Until then, the presumption was that the enemy fleet was at Neptune … but it was a presumption that bothered Koenig.

      For one thing, there were far too few ships out there. The Turusch had mustered more than fifty ships for the attack on Eta Boötis, and that was for the bombardment of a small and lightly defended base. They wouldn’t have known going in that the Marines were there waiting for them, or that Battlegroup America would show up three weeks later.

      Now they were, presumably, launching an assault on the human homeworld, a star system certain to possess numerous bases, colonies, and planetary defense systems.

      And they only sent thirty-three ships?

      Something was very seriously wrong with the tactical picture.

      “Admiral?” Buchanan’s voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. “All personnel are on board, except for a few who were taking liberty on Earth. We are ready to cast off.”

      “Do it,” Koenig replied, distracted. He noted the time: 0308 hours.

      “Aye, aye, sir. Helm! Maneuvering thrusters! Take us clear of the dock.”

      Koenig felt the faint shudder as magnetic grapples released. The microgravity of CIC was momentarily interrupted by a hard nudge—the maneuvering thrusters firing to ease the kilometer-long star carrier clear. The external view displayed across CIC’s curving bulkheads showed the close-knit crisscross of struts and girders in the space dock gantry that now were receding at twenty meters per second.