“As expected, the Emperor Chalabi has lodged a protest about the presence of Dominion war ships in Tilleke space. The Dominion of Unified Citizenry has committed approximately twenty five ships to escort Arcadian freighters through the Tilleke sector.”
“Approximately?” Admiral Skiffington asked tartly. “Don’t you think it is important for us to know the exact number, Lieutenant?”
Brill’s face flushed scarlet. “My apologies, Admiral. As of the last update from our ships screening the entrance to the Gilead-Tilleke wormhole, exactly twenty-six Dominion warships and colliers have passed into Tilleke space, including five missile cruisers, a Beamer of cruiser size, fifteen destroyers, two frigates and three colliers.”
“Gods of Our Mothers!” someone muttered. “That’s almost a quarter of the entire DUC fleet.”
“Have there been any incidents?” asked Admiral Giunta.
“No shooting incidents, Sir. However, this is the first major deployment for the Dominion fleet since the Battle of Windsor, and they have experienced a number of maintenance failures. Our surveillance ships located at the Gilead-Tilleke wormhole report that at least five Dominion ships — ” he consulted his notes — “including four destroyers and a cruiser, have had to be towed to Darwin for repairs. The cruiser The People’s Voice had to be towed all the way back to the Dominion. It may be because of these maintenance issues that the Dominion has notified us that it intends to move another ten ships to the Tilleke sector within the next few days. No word on the names or types of vessels.”
“What a fiasco,” Admiral Schuster said. “The Ducks are losing twenty percent of their fleet to maintenance failures.” Brill repressed a smile. That was neatly done, he thought. In one sentence Schuster not only stated the obvious, but reminded everyone at the table that he, as Commander of Fleet Logistics and Planning, only ran an average of two percent maintenance failures in comparison to his DUC counterpart.
“They’ve got an entire battle group there,” Admiral Douthat said with a tinge of concern.
“If they can keep them up and running!” Schuster jeered. “Gods of Our Mothers, we could make a fortune leasing them tug boats!” Smiles and laughter ran around the table.
“Not actually a battle group, Admiral,” Hiram replied. “There are no battleships deployed.”
“Can’t compare it to one of our battle groups, anyway,” Alyce Douthat reminded him. Heads nodded around the table. The Victorian Fleet was built around Battle Groups, usually consisting of one battleship, five missile cruisers, ten destroyers, four frigates and a supply collier. Home Fleet and Third Fleet had three Battle Groups each, while Second Fleet had four. Each Fleet was augmented by one or two arks, large freighter-like ships that could carry a number of corvettes and gun boats. The corvettes and gun boats had limited range and weapons loads, but added a measure of flexibility. In contrast, the DUC favored “wings” of ten ships, usually made up of heavy cruisers and destroyers. Intelligence said the entire DUC fleet had ten wings — 100 ships — so sending twenty six ships to escort the Arcadian freighters was a major commitment.
“And what about the Tilleke?”
“We do not have an accurate count of the number of ships the Tilleke have deployed along the trade route, but Duck ships have reported that there are fifty or more, most no larger than a destroyer-class. They are shadowing the Arcadian convoys very closely, but there have been no incidents as of yet. We have no information on weapon types or capabilities.”
Skiffington rounded on Admiral Teehan. “Really, Jeffrey, we need to get some decent intelligence on what the Tillies are up to. If the balloon goes up, I want some idea of what I will be running into. We certainly won’t be able to count on the Ducks, not at the rate their ships are falling apart.”
“We’re trying,” the head of Intelligence replied. “We even sent some drones through with some of the DUC destroyers, but the Ducks destroyed them, thinking they were Tilley drones.
“The Duck navy could not find its ass with active scanners!” Skiffington said sarcastically. He wheeled on Admiral Giunta. “We have to face the facts, Robert, the Ducks are worthless. If things get hot in there, the Ducks won’t be able to do a bloody thing. It is going to be up to Victoria to save the Arcadian’s bacon. You know that and I know that. But if I’m going in without any current intelligence, I want Second Fleet strong enough to take on anything it finds.”
Teehan flushed at this, but before he could retort, Admiral Giunta raised a placating hand, then spoke to Brill. “So what you are telling us, Lieutenant, is that there are a lot of DUC and Tilleke ships in close proximity to one another, that tensions are high, but nothing has happened yet. Is that about right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Giunta turned to Admiral Skiffington. “Okay, Oliver, I want Second Fleet to go through a full maintenance cycle, combat preparation. No more than ten percent of your force in maintenance at any one time, but pull out all the stops. Twenty four/seven until all your ships are at maximum readiness.” He turned to Admiral Penn. “Katherine, I am detaching two battle groups from Third Fleet and tasking them to Second Fleet. I want you to select which two by the end of the week. As soon as Second Fleet has finished its maintenance cycle, rotate those two battle groups through maintenance as quickly as possible.”
Third Fleet shot an angry glare at Skiffington, then focused on Giunta. “With all respect, Admiral, Third Fleet can’t continue to protect Windsor and task two of our three battle groups to Second Fleet,” she protested.
Giunta raised a placating hand. “I want you to leave a cruiser and three destroyers in orbit around Windsor. Bring the rest back to Cornwall.”
“You’re gutting my fleet!” Penn said angrily.
“Yes, I am,” the First Sea Lord replied evenly. He stood up. “You have your orders. Make it so.” He strode from the room. The others followed, leaving Katherine Penn and Oliver Skiffington alone.
Admiral Penn sat stiffly in her seat, jaws clenched, pink smudges staining her cheeks. Admiral Skiffington rose slowly, smiling. He hefted his briefcase. “Now, now, Katherine, don’t be angry. It’s only for a little while. You know I’ll make good use of them.”
Katherine Penn gave him a tight, furious smile. “Fuck you, Oliver.”
Skiffington chuckled, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He’d won, they both knew that.
Chapter 20
P.D. 952
Gathering Storm
The Dominion First Attack Fleet in Sybil Head Space
Four months after leaving their home sector, the First Attack Force of the Dominion of Unified Citizenry, eighty five ships strong, entered the Sybil Head Sector like a dark cloud.
No one noticed their arrival. Aboard the battleship Vengeance, Admiral Mello had taken great pains that this be so. They stayed off the direct route freighters used to use to travel from Sybil Head to the Dominion. It was a long route, using a series of short-hop wormholes made obsolete by the discovery of the wormhole from Sybil Head to Victoria, and another from Victoria to the Dominion. But Admiral Mello was a cautious man, for all his reputation as a bold tactician, and so he had taken the Task Force on a dog leg away from the trade route, then ran parallel to it well out of sensor range of any errant freighter dogging its slow way between sectors.
Running five hours in front of the Dominion Task Force, fifteen destroyers probed in a wide arc with sensitive passive sensors, looking for any ship that might notice them, wonder who they were and pass along a message to Sybil Head. Their standing orders were blunt: No one must see the First Attack Force. Destroy any ship that stumbled across their path. So far they had been lucky.
“Latest report from Captain Morales, Admiral,” his aide said, handing him the notebook. Mello waived a hand. “Tell me, Jodi.”
Commander Jodi Pattin nodded. “Captain Morales has only picked up one ship, at extreme range, moving away from our line of travel. The drive signature makes it an ore freighter, probably making a local run
between mining colonies. He’s not seeing any other activity, but he’s concerned that there might be a small mining colony somewhere in front of us.”
Mello drummed his fingers on his armrest, considering. The trouble with Sybil Head was that it was cluttered with little mining colonies, often that weren’t on any navigation chart. They could blunder into one without every knowing it was there until they were on top of it, and any one of them could send out a dispatch drone warning of the Dominion attack force. In another four days they would be through Sybil Head, heading for Cape Breton. There they would meet with the light force of frigates and several colliers promised by the CB government, resupply, perform one last maintenance check, and then enter the wormhole that would take them into Victorian space. And then…
“Okay, Jodi, let’s move another dogleg, a full Sensor Unit further out, then turn back on course. Inform the fleet. Use whisker laser, not radio.”
“Commander Pattin punched some numbers into her notebook. “This will chew up another fifteen hours, Sir.”
“Can’t be helped, Jodi. This entire campaign depends on surprise. Without it, we will get our collective asses kicked. We’ve built in extra time for just this type of contingency. And, Jodi-” She looked at him expectantly.
“No mistakes,” he said firmly. “I want confirmation from each ship that they understand we are turning. Everyone stays in formation. Any captain who strays off course will be removed instantly. No mistakes. We haven’t come this far just so some sloppy jackass can ruin everything.”
“Of course, Admiral.” She left to do his bidding.
Mello turned his attention back to his screens. He was commanding the largest fleet in the history of the Dominion, about to attack the Dominion’s biggest threat, and he would flay alive any man who stood between him and his victory.
Chapter 21
Emily’s Personal Journal
I am now the Assistant Tactical Officer on board the New Zealand! A missile cruiser, Gods bless her. I was afraid they would stick me on a battleship, where I would be lost in the mobs of junior lieutenants. A destroyer would have been okay, but a missile cruiser! Very nice. Only one problem: I got a poor write-up on the Supply Station Alamo exercise, which I don’t understand at all. I asked Rudd about it, but all he said is next time I should try harder. Try harder? Heck, I almost annihilated him! Trying to get up the nerve to talk to Captain Grey. Getting madder as I think about it. Laura Salazar, who I had thought screwed up her exercise, got a good write-up and has already been transferred to Second Fleet. Andrew Lord is still here.
I have been in touch with Hiram, who sounds excited but is being very closed mouth about just what he is doing. Still seeing Cookie, but he is pretty much stuck on Atlas and Cookie has been posted to Second Fleet and is back at the space station infrequently. Another ‘Fleet relationship.’ What an unlikely couple! The shy geek and the warrior woman. I hope it works out for them. I envy them a little, I think. I’ve had one or two nice weekend flings while going through advanced training, but it was clear from the start that weekend flings were all they were going to be. One was someone in my training battalion, but I felt like I was having sex with a teenager. The other man was my age, but he was one of the training cadre, so we probably broke a gazillion rules and regulations. He was nervous as a cat. I’m trying not to get depressed about this.
Meanwhile, I am being trained in Tactical on the New Zealand. The skipper is Commander Julie Grey. She is a tiny woman, slender with short grey hair. She is attractive enough in a very severe way. She is pleasant, a bit formal, and can be one ruthless bitch in the training skirmishes we have.
I love it. And to my surprise, I seem to have a knack for it. I still want to be a Fleet Historian, of course, but in the meantime I must confess I am enjoying Tactical. We keep having all of these exercises where they create a tactical situation without telling you what is. You have to figure it out from the political background memos, from reports from other ships in your Battle Group, and from your own sensor reports. You look at all this data — most of it conflicting — and you try to find a pattern. You try to figure out what the enemy is doing. And if you are lucky enough to figure that out, then you have to figure out a way to counter it. It is fascinating, frustrating, stressing and rewarding, all at the same time. Twice now Grey and Alex Rudd have teamed up against me and I have either fought them to a draw or won. ‘Course, I have also been completely buggered about five times.
But I am learning how they think, how they like to move the pieces on the board, and what they don’t seem to pay attention to. We have more exercises coming up and I have some ideas that might just surprise them.
Chapter 22
An Unexpected Dinner
In Victorian Space, on the New Zealand
The summons was unexpected. Emily was in her cabin, pouring over endless reports and wondering what she would do for dinner, when a very young naval rating nervously appeared at her door. “Captain’s compliments, Lieutenant. She wondered if you would like to join her for dinner in her wardroom at 1900 hours.”
Emily looked at her watch, it was already 6:30 p.m. Half an hour to get cleaned up and make sure her uniform was presentable.
The Captain’s Wardroom was surprisingly small. The dinner table could seat six, but was only set for two. A steward in a white jacket silently served them sea bass with fresh vegetables and a large salad, poured white wine into their glasses, then departed.
“Well, Emily, you are off to a pretty good start,” Grey observed, raising her wine glass. Emily felt a surge of anger, struggled to keep it off her face.
The corner of Captain Grey’s mouth twitched. “Something you’d like to say, Lieutenant?”
Emily put her glass down hard on the table. “With all respect, Captain, I don’t understand my final training evaluation. My overall rating was “Poor,” which I thought was inaccurate and unfair.” Part of her could hardly believe she was saying this to the Captain, but she had to bite her tongue to keep from saying more.
“Really?” Grey seemed surprised. “Do you think you did as well as Laura Salazar? Or Richard Burke? Or Watterson?” All three of them had been transferred to the prestigious Second Fleet on the basis of their training evaluations, which mystified Emily even more.
In for a penny, in for a pound… “Yes, Ma-am, I most certainly do.”
“And is there anyone else you think did well enough to deserve a good evaluation?” Grey asked blandly.
“Yes, Ma-am. Andrew Lord did a very good job on the convoy protection mission. He thought it all out before hand and stationed his ships where they could support each other quickly. And he didn’t allow himself to get lured away from the freighters.” Unlike that jackass Salazar. “Bob White did a brilliant job on the outpost attack.”
“And yourself, of course,” Grey added dryly.
“Yes, Ma-am.”
“I see from your record that you are a would-be historian, Emily,” the Captain said. “Have you studied the history of monarchies and empires?”
The sudden change in topic took Emily off guard. What was this about?
“Yes, Ma-am. Mostly old Earth, of course, but we studied the rise of the Sultenic Empire and the Tilleke Empire, and there was a course just on the Dominion at the Academy.”
“And what did you learn about their stability?
Emily relaxed a little. This was home ground for her. “Monarchies are surprisingly stable, unless you have a very poor king or queen. Typically, if the monarchy was moderately progressive, it lasted longer. If it was too totalitarian, or if it was radically progressive, it became unstable and vulnerable. England, Spain and Germany were pretty good examples on old Earth. China was the outstanding exception to the rule, because it was both repressive and stable, at least until the plague hit. The Sultenic Empire and Victoria are good modern day examples of stable moderates. The more repressive, totalitarian regimes tended to survive for a shorter time, and typically had a cataclysmic failure, usu
ally by war or assassination, followed by civil war.”
“Now tell me, Lieutenant, how does your performance evaluation relate to all of this?”
“Ma-am?” Now she was confused.
“Come now, Lieutenant, your file says you are smart. Are you smart?” Grey sipped her wine and looked at Emily expectantly.
Annoyed, Emily opened her mouth to speak, then closed it with an audible ‘snap.’ She could almost hear her father’s voice in her ear: Emily, you are smart as a whip, but you don’t always listen too good. You’d be amazed at what you can learn when you just shut up and listen.
Okay, so Salazar, Burke and Watterson all got good reviews — which they didn’t deserve — and promptly got transferred to Second Fleet, commanded by Grant’s father. She could guess that Lord and White, who deserved good reviews, had been passed over because they had received poor reviews, just like she had. That told her that Second Fleet had enough clout to get the people they wanted…and that Captain Grey had made sure that no one in their right mind would want her. But that was nothing more than normal arm wrestling between Fleets competing for scarce leadership talent, wasn’t it?
There had to be more to this. Emily looked hard at Captain Grey, who smiled blandly back. Emily’s mind raced. Second Fleet. Easily the most prestigious Fleet in the Navy. Admiral Skiffington was a national hero, the hero of the Battle of Windsor. He was one of the most widely recognized persons in the entire Victorian Kingdom. Hell, his approval ratings were higher than the Queen’s! Why would Home Fleet try to-
The realization stopped her cold. Fine historian you turn out to be, she chided herself ruefully. Did you forget the thing you learned in your first year of college: The greatest threat to any kingdom is not foreign armies, but domestic intrigue. And where do you find domestic intrigue? She stopped as a new realization swept her, one that made the palms of her hands sweat.
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