Although he would have hated to admit it, William was a naturally conservative person. He disliked the thought of taking a wild jump into the unknown, let alone charging right into a system that was so heavily defended that at least two squadrons of superdreadnoughts would be required to flatten the defenses in a single attack. And yet, in the privacy of his own mind, he had to concede that the plan might work. It was the hint of insanity that would drive it forward, he was sure, along with the enemy’s belief that their communications networks were unbreakable. Hell, they were unbreakable. William didn’t have the clearance to know more than rumors about the CIS’s attempts to spy on the enemy’s StarCom network, but he’d heard that they’d proven fruitless. By the time the ships reached the RV point and work began, he’d decided to trust in the captain’s plan.
“This isn’t really a mobile StarCom,” Lynn said as William stepped into the engineering department. The chief engineer sounded torn between fascination and dismay. “They’ve miniaturized a few things, Commander, but I wouldn’t expect this unit to last more than a couple of years at most, once they spin it up. I think they’d probably also have problems with oscillating harmonics that will tear the thing apart given time. They’d need some pretty heavy-duty computer programs to control the system and I don’t think what they have is up to the task.”
“I see,” William said. “Can’t we duplicate and improve on the concept?”
“Oh, we probably could,” Lynn said. “I tell you, Commander, most of the savings here are false savings. Someone probably sold the enemy leaders a bill of goods. In the short term, they have a cheaper StarCom network; in the long term, they will have to work hard to keep the system up and running, when they could have made a much bigger investment on day one and saved themselves a great deal of cash. The system just keeps running into the cold equations and the realities of engineering.”
“They probably think they can replace them in the long run,” William said.
“No, they don’t,” Lynn said. He rubbed his hands together with mischievous glee. “I’ve seen this type of thinking before, sir. They buy a cheap system, then keep wasting their resources on upgrades, throwing good money after bad, rather than admit they made a mistake. My word, sir; heads would roll if someone made a mistake . . . and in the Theocracy, that’s probably literal.”
He shrugged. “The bottom line, sir, is that we can send messages into their network, but the whole system probably won’t last very long,” he admitted. “We simply don’t have the power to keep it up and running. I wouldn’t expect a superdreadnought to be able to keep the singularity in existence indefinitely. Another cost-cutting measure, sir, that’s going to bite them hard in the ass. It’s quite possible that wherever they intended to put it wouldn’t be able to use it. I’ve seen that happen before too.”
William frowned. “Really?”
“Oh, yes,” Lynn said. “There was a planet thirty-odd years ago that suffered a major disaster and needed help, so people all over the Commonwealth pitched in to send them emergency supplies to tide them over until they recovered. However, there was no attempt to coordinate the assistance, so half of the material they sent was completely useless. I believe a lot of it got put back on the market and sold, in exchange for funds that they could spend to get what they actually needed.”
He shook his head. “A proper StarCom would be able to control the collapse of the singularity so the StarCom itself wouldn’t be affected and a new singularity could be spun up afterwards,” he said. “This one? When the singularity collapses, it’ll take most of the StarCom with it. We may have done the idiot who put the design together a major favor, sir. He’ll have more time to make his escape before his superiors recognize that they’ve been conned.”
“I’m sure that the propaganda department can turn him into a hero,” William said dryly. “How long will it take you to put the system together?”
“Couple of days,” Lynn said. “I’ve got every trained engineer in the crew—and even a handful of people who have some experience without qualifications—out there bolting missile pods to hulls, shoring up everything we can, and generally making sure this ragtag squadron can deliver one last punch. I just hope we don’t have to fight a long battle, sir; none of these ships were actually designed to be slaved to another, not even the freighters.”
William nodded, slowly. The captain had insisted that the Theocracy wouldn’t be too surprised if the convoy was overdue, but they were control freaks. It was quite likely that there would be a lot of questions for the crew, particularly after Lightning had wiped out an enemy convoy right under the enemy’s nose. And many of the questions would be impossible to answer; hell, if the Theocracy took no more precautions than Tyre before the war, the veneer disguising the freighters and crippled warships would still fade very quickly.
And let’s hope they don’t want to talk to the cruiser CO, he thought. That would ruin the plan beyond repair. The bastard is dead and gone.
“I hear you’re going to have squadron command,” Lynn said, changing the subject. “And you never had a formal command of your own.”
“I know,” William said. The captain hadn’t realized it until he’d pointed it out, but if someone squinted at regulations the right way, they could make a fair case for the captain facing a court-martial board. Giving command of an entire squadron to someone without command experience was forbidden, even though he’d served watch on Lightning and had over forty years of experience in the Navy. “But the captain didn’t have a choice.”
“Enjoy it,” Lynn said. He shrugged, again. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t get tapped for a command of your own in the next couple of years. I’ve heard they’re going to be rushing many more starships into commission now that the gloves are off. We’ll have more ships than we have commanding officers.”
“I hope so,” William said. “It’ll please the observer too.”
“Ah, yes,” Lynn said. “She was poking around here awhile back; I asked her to leave and she just left without ever looking me in the eye.”
“She was probably embarrassed,” William said. He made a mental note to check in with Rose MacDonald before the squadron departed on its final mission. Maybe she should transfer to one of the other ships, one that might be able to make an escape if the plan went horrendously wrong. “That’s how people on my homeworld act when they realize they crossed the line.”
“Well, tell her she can have a tour while we’re on the way home,” Lynn said. “I wouldn’t mind showing her around, sir.”
“I’ll tell her,” William said. “But we have to survive the battle first.”
“You know,” Davidson said. “This could be our last night together.”
Kat laughed. Lightning had nipped in and out of Porcupine, as planned, taking the opportunity to broadcast propaganda into the datanet before allowing a squadron of light cruisers to drive them away. Hopefully, the enemy would realize she hadn’t fired a shot and draw the conclusion that she had few—if any—missiles left. But as long as they picked up the message she’d sent, using Parker’s codes, she didn’t care. It would convince the enemy to prepare another ambush for her.
“That was far too hackneyed a line,” she said. They’d spent five days laboring to put everything in place for the attack on Aswan. Tomorrow, they’d know if the plan would work or if the enemy would refuse to take the bait. “You could just try to pull me into bed.”
Davidson shrugged. “I thought bad romantic lines were funny,” he said. He looked past her, at the display. “You might have made a good Marine.”
“I doubt it,” Kat said. “I never liked crawling through mud.”
She smiled, remembering her childhood. It might have been lonely, but it hadn’t been bad. There had been the estate, a private garden easily large enough for a hundred children, and countless trees to climb. But she’d rarely seen her parents . . .
&n
bsp; And if we don’t manage to survive the action tomorrow, she thought as she turned and took him in her arms, I won’t see them ever again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Admiral, a courier boat has arrived from Porcupine,” Commander Annam said. “The spy sent another message.”
“That’s nice,” Admiral Junayd growled. It was hard enough coming up with excuses for not reporting the loss of the convoy, not when he didn’t have anything to balance the scales. “And what did your spy have to say?”
“The enemy intends to make one final attack, on Salvation,” Commander Annam said. “They’re going to be hitting the planet in just under two days, then returning to the Commonwealth.”
Admiral Junayd blinked in surprise. Salvation? The planet wasn’t heavily defended because it was largely worthless, the population sullenly bowing the knee to the Theocracy and ignoring them wherever possible. It would get a full settlement of Theocrats soon enough, he was sure, but until then the system could be ignored. And yet . . . an enemy attack would be embarrassing, particularly after the loss of the convoy.
He keyed the terminal, bringing up the star chart. It would take a day, at best speed, to reach Salvation, just long enough to get there first and set up an ambush. This time, he was sure, there would be no mistake. They’d get into point-blank range and overwhelm the enemy’s defenses by sheer weight of fire. And the complete destruction of their fleet would be enough to make up for the convoy. He could report a victory to his superiors and bury the bad news at the back of the report.
“Inform Commodore Isaac that the squadron is to ready itself to depart in an hour,” he ordered. “Commodore Malian is to remain in command of the base.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Commander Annam said.
“And tell Isaac to attach three flanking squadrons to his ships,” Admiral Junayd added. “This time, we’re going to be ready for them in hyperspace too.”
Commander Annam looked doubtful but nodded. “Aye, sir.”
Admiral Junayd dismissed him with a wave of his hand, then started to close down his terminal. He’d save his work, board the superdreadnought, and head off to Salvation, accompanied by enough mobile units to chase the enemy down if they fled back into hyperspace. It was a risk, but he needed a victory. Another defeat would mean the end of him.
He keyed his communicator thoughtfully. “Captain Haran, ensure that a courier boat is attached to the squadron,” he ordered. “I have an idea.”
And that, he thought quietly, is very true.
“That’s them on their way,” Grace said. “Nine superdreadnoughts, twenty smaller ships . . . vector suggests a direct-line course to Salvation, although they might change course.”
“I see them,” Lars said. On the display, one by one, the enemy ships jumped into the vortex and vanished. “And the base itself?”
“Still got another squadron of superdreadnoughts and a dozen smaller ships,” Grace said. “They’re even deploying a handful of armed shuttles.”
Lars stroked his chin thoughtfully. The shuttles weren’t gunboats, but if gunboats weren’t available, shuttles would have to suffice. Someone was either clever or desperate . . . mounting weapons and sensor packs on shuttles wouldn’t make them harder to hit, yet it would give the defenders some additional warning if there were more cloaked ships skulking around.
“Pull us back,” he ordered. “Prepare to slip back to the squadron.”
“Aye, sir,” Grace said.
“The enemy ships have departed,” Linda said. “Mermaid reports that an entire fleet of ships has left the system.”
“Show me,” Kat ordered. It felt odd to be going into battle without her XO on the bridge, but there was no choice. “Put them on the main display.”
She watched, grimly, as the enemy ships slipped into hyperspace. They might be trying something clever, but she doubted it. Salvation wasn’t anything like as important as Aswan, not to them. They’d be insane to risk leaving the planet’s defenses weakened if they believed the system was going to come under attack.
“Very well,” she said. It was important that the enemy didn’t have any time to think. “Order Mermaid to return to the system, then raise Commander Horsham. He is to send the message in one hour; I say again, he is to send the message in one hour.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
Kat sucked in her breath. They’d done everything they could to make the message look authentic, to make it clear that the local commander had no choice but to comply as quickly as possible, yet she knew that far too much could go wrong. If the enemy questioned orders, if the enemy sent back a demand for clarification, the entire plan would fall apart. She wanted to send the message immediately, but the enemy would have a chance to recall the second squadron of superdreadnoughts. All she could do was wait for them to put enough distance between themselves and Aswan before she tried to trick the defenders into sending away their remaining ships.
At least we know the StarCom works, she thought. She’d linked to Admiral Christian and sent a complete report, including everything they’d learned and the coordinates for the enemy superdreadnoughts. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance to set a trap. Whatever happens, the intelligence is already on its way home.
“Mermaid has jumped out,” Roach said quietly. “They’re on their way.”
Kat felt sweat trickling down her back as she waited for the hour to tick away. She hadn’t been so nervous at Cadiz, had she? Not when the enemy had attacked the crippled system and not when the Navy had mounted a counterattack . . . ? But she hadn’t had time to be nervous during the first battle and she hadn’t planned the second battle herself. This time, the glory of victory—or the shame of defeat—would fall squarely on her head. The XO had been right. Too many things could go wrong.
“Commander Horsham is sending the message now,” Linda reported.
Here we go, Kat thought.
“Hold the fleet at ready stations,” she ordered. They would need to give the second squadron a chance to move away from the system too. “We jump in thirty minutes.”
Or fall back, her thoughts added, silently.
Commodore Malian knew he wasn’t considered a zealot, not like the senior officers who commanded the attack fleets that were clawing their way into the Commonwealth. Indeed, he’d been surprised to receive promotion at all, even if it had been to a naval base that had long since lost most of its importance. No one had seriously considered the prospect of the enemy raiding behind their lines, even though in hindsight it was blindingly obvious. He had expected to spend most of his time doing as little as possible while enjoying the fruits of his links to the smugglers. Being on the front lines hadn’t been part of his plans.
“Commodore,” his aide said. “We picked up an urgent message from the front.”
Malian took the datapad and read the message, feeling his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was direct, straight to the point; he was to send his superdreadnoughts and any ships that could be spared to an RV point within occupied space, where they would receive further orders. He’d had a feeling he would have received such orders, sooner or later, but getting them now was unfortunate. Admiral Junayd had taken the other superdreadnought squadron with him and regulations strictly forbade cutting the defenses of a naval base any further.
But it’s an order from the front, he agonized bitterly. It had been made clear, back before the war, that the demands of the front took priority. He’d be lucky if he was only executed if he refused to send his superdreadnoughts upon demand, despite the risk. And yet, if he did send the ships, he’d be in trouble for breaking regulations. Damned if he did, he thought, and damned if he didn’t. What do I do?
He stared down at his hands helplessly. Admiral Junayd would be furious to discover that he’d lost his second superdreadnought squadron, and he might take it out on Malian, but orders were orders. He considered, briefly,
asking for clarification, but Admiral Junayd had ordered him to keep the StarCom under tight control. Nothing was allowed out without the admiral’s permission. The only way he could please both of his superiors was to let the superdreadnought squadron go, then send a courier boat after Admiral Junayd. He could bring his ships back to fill the holes.
“Contact Commodore Perkin,” he ordered slowly. A tap on the datapad uploaded the navigational data into the superdreadnought’s datanet. “His ships are to depart immediately for the preselected RV point.”
“Aye, sir,” his aide said.
“And dispatch a pair of courier boats,” Malian added. “One to fly directly to Salvation; one to follow the admiral’s track in hyperspace. They are to inform him of this development.”
And he can decide what to do, Malian thought. He can take the blame if things go wrong.
Grace let out a harsh bark of laughter. “That’s the superdreadnoughts gone, sir,” she said. “I didn’t think it was possible!”
“Have a little faith in the commodore,” Lars advised. He peered down at his scanner, then smirked. “We’ll give them a few moments, just to make sure they’re not trying anything clever, then slip back and jump out. And then all hell can break loose.”
“Aye, sir,” Grace said.
Kat looked down at the report, feeling cold ice congealing in her stomach. “Sound red alert,” she ordered. One way or the other, the die was cast. “Force One will advance and engage the enemy, as planned. Force Two will remain here for five minutes, then advance itself.”
And hope to hell we don’t screw up the timing, Kat thought as she forced herself to relax. If Redemption manages to get out an alert before we attack Aswan, we may be in some trouble.
“Captain,” Roach said. He’d effectively taken over the XO’s job, although there was relatively little for him to do. “The makeshift squadron is ready to depart.”
Falcone Strike (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 2) Page 35
