“No, Naomi. The reason you’re my flag captain is at some point I am going to screw everything up.”
Al-shira tilted her head and raised both eyebrows, but Jacob continued before she could respond.
“I’ll hesitate at the wrong time, or I’m going to miss some detail that should have been obvious. Or maybe I’ll just lose track of the position Wolfhound is in while I’m arranging the other ships.” He shook his head. “When that happens, I need someone I can trust absolutely to bring me back in line. Someone I can trust to get us the hell out of whatever mess I put us in. You’re it.”
She rocked back on her heels slightly. “Oh really? That’s not something you made up on the spot to keep me from beating your head in?”
Jacob threw up his hands in disgust. “No, it’s not! Damn it, Naomi, what do I have to do to convince you I need your help here?”
For a long moment, Al-shira stared at him. Then she laughed and gave him a horrifyingly playful look. “Oh you don’t need to convince me, Jacob. I just like keeping you on your toes.”
He stared at her, completely baffled, for a moment longer as she scooped up the reader he’d left on the table and handed it over. Then he gave her a crooked grin. “Fine. Two can play at this game, Commander Al-shira. Remember this when you try and claim I’m not being fair in the future.”
Al-shira glanced back as she sauntered through the hatch. “Keep talking, captain, and maybe someone’ll listen. Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”
Jacob sighed, shook his head, and followed. She was right, of course, but that wouldn’t make dealing with any of it easier. Between the conflict with Kenning—which he was nowhere near stupid enough to believe settled—and the rushed work orders needed to prepare his ships for departure, he had plenty on his plate. Just reading through the readiness and supply reports would be hours of numbing, dreadful, necessary work. Yet there was a bright spot on the horizon now, something Jacob could reach for. He just had to hold his squadron together long enough for them to reach Tiredel, and then hopefully the High Admiral would take care of the rest.
For the time being, Jacob had to keep up with Naomi Al-shira, and his only hope was that it would not be as difficult as it already seemed. He shook his head and followed her into the hallway. One way or another, their time in Reefhome was about to come to an end.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Squadron 43 of the Celostian Navy left the Reefhome docks. The workers who had labored on those ships stood along the docking berths to bid them farewell, many offering sloppy salutes or soundless cheers as the ships passed their stations. On the Station itself, the civilians were having a farewell celebration, where the governor had arranged to make a speech. From what Jacob had heard, half the Station would be in attendance as they commemorated the departure of Wolfhound and her sister ships.
Jacob had encouraged the crews to leave messages for their families and loved ones aboard the Station before they had embarked. The resulting flood of letters had swamped the small dispatch office on the Station, but it had been worth the disgruntled grimaces of the office workers to guarantee his crews would be able to reassure and connect with their homes one last time. Given how many of them might not have the chance again after Tiredel, Jacob’s crews deserved the opportunity to leave words of kindness to those they would leave behind.
He had been fortunate not to have to leave a letter behind this time. Catherine and Michael remained on the Station, and the last Jacob had heard his sister was already looking for space to house Michael’s new engineering consultant business. Though their engagement was recent and far too new to predict anything with any certainty, Jacob was reasonably sure his sister would be well taken care of—when she wasn’t too busy managing her future husband’s life for him.
There had been time for only a brief reunion and a rushed farewell, but Jacob had been glad of the chance to see her happy at last. If something happened to him at Tiredel, she wouldn’t be left alone; if he came back, he would find her all the happier. It was everything he had wanted for her, and at the very least he could go into battle certain she would have a part in the Union he was defending.
The first riftjump was nerve wracking. With the slight delay in the charging process, Jacob spent a few minutes agonizing over whether the new Capistans and their companion riftjump generators would function as planned or explode inside the hulls of his destroyers. Fortunately for him, and anyone else aboard Wolfhound and the other ships of Squadron 43 Michael’s design worked as planned. All four destroyers made an accurate jump to Lindon.
Lindon was so lightly defended that Jacob almost asked Wolfhound’s sensor officer to recheck the system for evidence of an Oduran raid. The normal garrison of three frigates and two corvettes had been cut back to a single ship, an Arrowhead corvette that could barely hope to hold its own against a pirate craft. The Iriud contacted Jacob’s ships immediately and reported the rest of the defenders had been pulled away to Tiredel. The commander looked justifiably worried and urged Jacob to transit the system as quickly as possible to join the task force there.
As reassuring as it was to find his assumptions were correct, Jacob’s worries were deepening. If the fleet was aware of the threat it faced, it was one thing. Fear of that same threat was something else entirely. To find even a commander of a backwater corvette so frightened of the Oduran task force did not bode well for the state of mind in the rest of the fleet, and if that same panic had infected the minds of the rest of the Navy’s officers it could lead to defeat all on its own. If the Celostian Navy could be broken at Tiredel, who was to say the Odurans would not continue to press their advantage? The possibilities worried him, and he wondered if the Union’s time had finally come.
They made transit two days later, powering through the system at full speed. His ships had time for only a few basic maneuvering tests and point defense drills, as well as a few gun drills that included no actual live fire. That kind of exercise was understandably avoided in inhabited systems; nobody wanted a freighter or passenger shuttle to drift into the line of fire, least of all the gunners themselves.
The next two systems gave them far more opportunity to practice. Neither GRC 53172 nor GRC 81964 had any trace of human habitation, and every weapon test was conducted with determined, almost desperate energy. System failures produced by the stress were identified and corrected by the engineers aboard, and before long, they left those empty stars behind for Tiredel.
There they found the largest fleet Jacob had ever seen. There were four Golem class dreadnaughts gathered in the system, the largest ships of the Celostian Navy. More heavily armored then their Oduran counterparts, the Golems were designed for endurance. Odurans tended to focus their fire on larger craft, and the dreadnaughts had been built with that fact in mind. Their protection made them incredibly expensive and rare as well. Seven had been made, and only five still survived. The Star, Rifle, Sword and Seat were all present; only Eagle, still heavily damaged from the actions near Rigannin, was missing.
Along with the dreadnaughts were twelve Crown class cruisers and three of their newer, Knight class brethren. Over forty Arrowhead and Minister class corvettes swarmed around the larger ships as lesser numbers of Defender class destroyers, Knife and Lance class frigates swept through space nearby. At the center of it all was the Badger, an odd addition to the fleet with its sensor banks and communication towers. It was a stunning, impressive display of military might, and Jacob wondered if his ships would even contribute anything to the incredible firepower already present.
Those numbers paled with comparison to the horde of ships behind them. The news outlets had emphasized the gigantic nature of the refugee ships, but even their exaggerated claims fell short of the truth. Thousands of ships orbited the formerly forlorn little world, their ships spread far enough from the surface to avoid blocking out the light. Newly mobile space stations, disarmed cruisers, and all sorts of other hulks drifted alongside the world as it moved through the
system, and Jacob could see the beehive of activity continuing as shuttles brought refugees down to the cold surface of their home.
The High Admiral had arranged the Navy ships to orbit between the planet and the nearest edge of the system facing the Frontier. While it would have been easy to jump to the edge of the system and then calculate a second jump closer in, such a maneuver was usually avoided with larger formations. Space, while normally empty of truly harmful things to a warship, always had the occasional asteroid or bit of debris that could cripple an unsuspecting craft, and those objects were more difficult to predict during a riftjump, and especially so during an intersystem jump.
So odds were the Odurans would be jumping in at the edge of the system and coming in under their own power, as Jacob was with his squadron. No doubt they would look far more impressive than a meager four-destroyer flotilla, however.
Jacob shook his head at the thought, and then a buzz from his collar signaled the Communications officer was attempting to reach him. He tapped it to allow the call through. “Captain Hull here.”
Al-shira’s voice came over the com link, surprising him. “Captain, we have a signal from the flagship. We’re to join the current formation and send a shuttle to the command ship with you on it. That way High Admiral Nivrosky can include you in the plans for the defense of the system.”
“Confirmed, Commander.” Jacob paused. “Naomi, how did they sound?”
She responded carefully. “When we first got here, the nearest patrol contacted us. They wanted to know what we were doing here and where we came from; I guess our modifications have changed our sensor profile enough they thought the Odurans were using a batch of shot up Defenders to scout the system. After we answered, the High Admiral actually communicated with us personally. He sounded the same as ever, but he did seem a bit surprised we were here.”
“Well, let’s hope we surprise the Odurans just as much. Thank you Al-shira. Hull out.” Jacob broke the link and started to busy himself for the trip to Badger. There was a flicker of hope inside that his visit would turn out better than the last time the High Admiral invited him aboard, but he pushed it aside. Such things could wait until the threat to the system had been dealt with. Afterwards, he would see what exactly the future would hold for Captain Jacob Hull.
“Our scouts have not been able to establish a completely accurate count of the enemy ships, but we do have some rough estimates of what they will be bringing to Tiredel.” The nervous-eyed lieutenant commander seemed intimidated by the solemn faces of all her superior officers facing her, with good reason. There were very few smiling faces in the sea of captains, admirals, and commanders. Of course, the fact the High Admiral himself sat off to the side as she gave her presentation likely didn’t help much either.
Still, the lieutenant commander gathered her pluck and labored on. A few fumbles with the projection controls brought up a few projections of the warships the Odurans had been observed using the most. Jacob’s stomach tightened as he recognized the smooth lines and sharp edges of those ships.
“To our best estimates, the enemy force contains at least seven dreadnaughts, all Banner class.”
Jacob sucked his breath in through his teeth. It was nearly double the heavy ships in the Celostian force, and that would have been bad enough if the lieutenant commander had not continued. “There are twenty eight enemy cruisers, a mix of Scythe and Brute class ships. We know there are nearly thirty enemy destroyers as well, ranging from Crossbow and Claw class vessels to a pair of Telosian Bloodthorne class ships. Escorting those heavier ships are well over fifty frigates of various types, and between seventy and eighty corvettes.”
Jacob shook his head, and a discontented mutter rumbled through the assembled officers. From what he’d heard, the last enemy assault this big had been the raid that had wiped the face of Rigannin clean of human habitation. In truth, it was likely far larger than that fleet had been. He pictured all that firepower closing on the mass of refugees now clustered around Tiredel, imagined railgun shots and missile fire wiping away ships from space and cities from continents. Rigannin had been so thoroughly bombarded and savaged, even now Celostian colonists were reluctant to live there. Would the same thing happen here, even with the might of the Celostian Navy gathered to stop it?
The same worry was clear on the faces of the other officers in the room as the lieutenant commander stepped down and the High Admiral stood to take her place. His face was solemn with concern, but his eyes remained as hard and determined as they ever had been. When he spoke, that same iron will showed clearly in his voice. “I know you are all concerned about the size of the enemy force which will shortly come against us, but I remind you we have turned back the Odurans before. We will do so again.”
He turned his attention to the controls. “Our initial formations will be simple, and we will then adjust our plans as we advance to contact with the enemy. The main battle line will consist of our four dreadnaughts, eleven cruisers, and assorted escorts. We will deploy three cruisers with assorted escorts to make up the vanguard to protect the main line, as well as another cruiser and various escorts to take up a chasing position. The flagship will remain behind the main battle line to coordinate our efforts.” A holographic representation of the formation appeared, with notes showing the location of each ship.
Jacob noted his own squadron’s position, in the lower force, with approval. It was common for battles involving dreadnaughts to assume that sort of battle line; the dangers of taking fire from the front, where the relative velocities of the projectiles would increase the damage, or the rear, where vulnerable DE sails were typically located, meant the usual tactic was for the heavier craft to form opposing parallel lines, while lighter craft tried to worm away behind the enemy to disable their sails, or slip around ahead of them to rain fire on their bows. Given his ship’s lack of speed, the chasing position made the most sense.
Of course, that did nothing to prevent his memories from Wayward, the last time his ships had engaged dreadnaughts in a chase, from haunting him.
The High Admiral continued. “Squadron 43 is most likely the last of the nearby friendly forces which we will be able to draw on for the coming battle. Any other ships are either already committed to the defense of critical systems or are otherwise unable to reach us in time.” The High Admiral’s mouth quirked. “In fact, Captain Hull and his crews may have rushed things a little in order to arrive, which I am sure we will all be grateful for.” There were a few officers who turned and gave Jacob appreciative nods. Captain Upshaw, sitting some distance down the table, settled for a resentful glare instead.
Nivrosky switched the projection off and swept his hard grey gaze across the assembled officers. “We have a responsibility to stop the Odurans here. If we do not, the refugees will not be the only ones to suffer the consequences.” His eyes grew hooded. “Our families, our friends, all we hold dear, depend on us for strength and guidance in this time of trials. I expect all of you, to your utmost ability, not to let them down but to show them how an officer fulfills his duty. Thank you for your service and your sacrifices on behalf of the Celostian Union.” He paused as if to say something more, and then shook his head. “Dismissed.”
Around Jacob the officers came to their feet and saluted the High Admiral. He joined them, feeling a burst of determination and pride. After Nivrosky returned the gesture, the officers filed out of the room. When Jacob tried to follow, however, the High Admiral caught his attention and motioned for him to stay. Jacob, feeling a little intimidated, waited until the room was almost empty before he approached his chief commander. “Yes, sir?”
Nivrosky studied him for a moment. “Captain Hull, I appreciate the eagerness that led you to bring your squadron here, but I have to know: are your ships ready for battle?”
“Of course they aren’t!” Captain Upshaw’s blustering tone cut short any reply Jacob could have made. “They’re barely out of the docks. Their crews haven’t even fired on enemy craft since
they were brought together. The Odurans aren’t going to hesitate to blow the lot of them out of space.” Upshaw glared at Jacob, his face flushed. “You should never have brought them here, Captain Hull. You’re leading them straight to the slaughter.”
Jacob felt anger start to freeze in his heart. “With all due respect, Captain Upshaw, my squadron is ready to fight.”
“Your squadron is ready to die, Captain.” Upshaw turned to Nivrosky. “High Admiral, I plead with you to move the squadron back by the flagship. At the very least include them in the central formation, so the other ships can cover them better. Otherwise, they are guaranteed to be destroyed.”
The High Admiral looked from Upshaw to Jacob and back again. “Your suggestion has merit, Captain Upshaw. Captain Hull, you are the only one familiar with the…peculiar…capabilities of your squadron. Do you feel your ships would fare better in the central formation?”
“No, sir.” Jacob put as much force into the words as he could. The High Admiral’s eyebrows climbed, and Captain Upshaw’s mouth opened to respond. He continued before the pompous oaf could get a word out. “My ships are designed to operate best as a unit and are more heavily armored and armed than other vessels of their class. They would be best deployed with one of the flanking units.”
“That’s insane!” Upshaw managed to interrupt after all. “These are half-built experimental designs! There could be any number of design flaws that won’t stand up under fire. Besides, Captain Hull, even you have to admit the additions to your ships have slowed their acceleration. A chase element needs speed in order to achieve its objectives, and your ships will slow the whole formation down.”
Jacob’s jaw clenched. “Then we can start further forward to compensate. Sir, the difference in firepower more than justifies including us in the chase element.”
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