“My presence doesn’t substantially increase our ships or firepower,” I frowned and then smoothed my face.
Eastwood looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and closed his mouth just as the blast door leading into the Heavy Cruiser’s bridge swished open.
“Sorry,” Laurent muttered when I glanced over at him with a questioning expression, “I got stuck down in environmental. They’ve had to make some adjustments after losing two thirds of our hydroponics.”
I nodded as if with understanding. I really didn’t want to show that I hadn’t the faintest clue what kind of environmental crisis could have us still breathing clean air and somehow trap the Captain below decks.
On the main-screen, the various Scout class ships almost seemed to wander around aimlessly. I would have thought them aimless, except they never went more than 90 degrees off course for the still distant Tracto Star System.
The Large Harvester, on the other hand, continued to point unerringly toward the Star System that was their target. Whenever it would start to pass the various Scouts, they would almost casually change their course and speed to stay ahead of the Harvester, only to once again begin wandering around when they got too far from the largest Bug vessel.
“Send a message to our other ships, general channel but still encrypted,” I said, feeling much more confident of what I was supposed to do as an Admiral with a Captain on deck. After several battles and a lot of face time in front of the computer running practice simulations, I almost thought I was qualified to armchair quarterback someone else’s fleet operation.
I shook my head as I knew that I had no real business doing this job. “If they insist I be put back in charge of their fleet, who am I to argue?” I whispered under my breath and then caught myself. I was a man hardened by prison, torture and betrayal I reminded myself savagely, the doubting Admiral of yesterday was gone. He’d tried, people died—it was time to stop trying and just do.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I didn’t catch that last transmission for the other Captains,” the com-tech said for what I realized had to be the second time.
I purpled with embarrassment. I was a Prince of the Caprian realm, and these sorts of things should be happening less, not more.
“I want them to proceed to these coordinates,” I replied, flipping open my data slate and making a few quick calculations before reading off the numbers to the tech, “after which I’ll give them their next orders.”
Captain Laurent was looking at the main screen and then down at his own data-slate before sidling up beside me. He almost seemed to be waiting for something, but when he didn’t speak right away, I just sat there glaring at the screen. If my eyes were turbo-lasers, those Bugs would have been deep-fried by now.
“Those coordinate will send our lighter ships through the edge of their formation unassisted,” the Captain murmured in my ear.
I wrinkled my forehead and waved my hand to shoo away the uncertainty. “They won’t be unassisted,” I said with a nod at the main screen, “I’m sending all four of them together on this run.”
“Those are light ships, Sir; they’re not meant for charging enemy fleets,” Captain Laurent demurred in a quiet voice.
“They’re going to tear through the edge of the Bug formation, not the center of it,” I disagreed instantly with this challenge to my orders, “the coordinates I’ve given will take them across the Bugs’ edge.”
“What if the Bugs change course to intercept? They could be in the middle of a fur-ball,” Laurent disagreed once again.
I gave Laurent an assessing look, wondering if this a blatant challenge to my authority. “Our light warships are superior to their light warships in just about every conceivable way,” I said coolly, “as such I am unconcerned about their chances against a few Bugs.”
“And if the Large Harvester manages to get within range, Admiral,” Laurent said in a loud enough voice that I could see shoulders twitch and ears cock to listen in, as bridge crew realized there was a disagreement in the chain of command.
“They can always maneuver for best advantage if necessary, Captain,” I drawled, as if unaware of the listeners. The best way to downplay the situation was to act as if it wasn’t as big a deal as it was, “I just want them to cut the edges and start trimming the Bugs we’ll be facing at once down to a manageable number.” I could see the moment the Captain realized he’d started to attract unwanted attention, as he froze before continuing in a lower tone.
“Yes,” Laurent whispered pointedly, “but those aren’t the orders you actually gave. You just issued them a set of coordinate points and told them to achieve it. Those Captains out there aren’t Confederation Officers—they’re not even trained Caprian SDF, for the most part they’re young ratings. Former bridge crew off the Clover and my Tactical section!” he finished quite heatedly. “They need to know what they’re doing and why, or this will turn in a real donnybrook the first time things don’t go according to plan.”
I blinked. It was an interesting point, and probably accurate as well. I’d just assumed that the captains would be smart enough to figure out what I was ordering and why, and that was my first mistake. Then I’d assumed they would react like I would if things got stood on their head, namely maneuvering for advantage to stay out of trouble for as long as possible while giving the Bugs what for. From the thrust of Laurent’s argument, I now had to assume this was mistake number two.
“If we’re not going to go in there with the Heavy Cruiser as close support for those boys and girls, I recommend explaining what you want and issuing less restrictive orders, Admiral Montagne,” Laurent continued, when my silence had gone on for too long…at least in his opinion.
I felt a flash of irritation but quickly thrust it aside. I was angrier with myself than I was with the Captain, to tell the truth. “A good point, Number One,” I said evenly.
Laurent opened his mouth as if to object to something and then closed it, a faintly sour expression flitting across his face before disappearing entirely to be replaced by what I could tell was genuine relief. Wondering what all that was about, I shook my head before turning to the com-tech, glad that we seemed to be able to get on the same page.
“Comm., open another channel to the captains of our Cutters and Corvettes; I want to talk with them directly,” I said in my best Admiral’s voice—one that brooked no comment or dispute.
“Yes, Sir,” replied the com-tech.
I sat there in my command chair, waiting patiently until the Tech looked over to me and nodded to indicate the connection had been made. “You’re live, Admiral Montagne,” he said seriously.
Straightening up in my chair to present the most royal image I possibly could, I mentally wrapped my office of Admiral around me like an invisible cloak. It’s not that I wanted to be the Admiral and lead them into battle, but I had to and I couldn’t even say I would bow out, given the option. I’d made a promise to the people of Tracto—both the natives on the world and the Belters up in space—and until the Bug menace was dealt with, and my pirate uncle who had conquered their system was no longer a threat, I couldn’t step aside. For better or for worse, I was their Protector. That meant that I had to keep this fleet together, and these Bugs held off…at least until the time was right! Then, let my uncle and all the naysayers reap the whirlwind that was Montagne Vengeance—Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet style of course.
“Captains of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet,” I said as soon as the screen had filled with the images of Laurent’s fellow captains throughout what was left of the fleet, “We stand on the doorstep of a new millennium. Friends, comrades, fellow Confederals…” I wound down to a slow halt the little speech I’d been planning ever since our last battle. The words were sitting poorly on my tongue, so I shrugged and realizing I was staring off into space before tossing out the rest of the speech.
“Look, Captains,” I said, pausing to meet each man’s eye, “I’m detaching you to make harrying attacks that cut thr
ough the edges of the formation. Your task will be to whittle down the number of Scouts, since there are too many for us to take on straight up—especially with that Large Harvester waiting in the wings. So do as much damage as you can while hitting around the edges, but don’t get trapped, and most importantly, don’t get your ships shot out from under you. We need to stop these Bugs from hitting Tracto, but just as important is that we keep our assets in optimal condition—that includes our persons. It does us and Tracto no good if we get blown up out here.”
The light warship captains nodded, and I saw them exchanging glances by the way their eyes shifted from side to side. One of them, braver than the rest or possibly just more foolish, nodded his head again. “We won’t let you down, Admiral,” he said quickly.
“Although a few of us,” another captain cut in, “have had questions from the crew about why we’re out here when the pirates could just as easily be dealing with these Bugs, Sir.”
“It’s not that we’re not with you, Admiral,” the first captain said, emphasizing my rank and shooting a glare over at the other man, “it’s just some rumbling from the lower decks.”
“I completely understand,” I said, flashing my patented royal smile to cover the flash of rage that ran through me. I took a small, short breath to lower my temperature before something hot and angry came roiling out my mouth. These are my loyal men, I firmly reminded myself, relaying honest concerns.
The fact that I was unwilling to share the entirety of my plan with them after the way I’d been betrayed at the Omicron, with spies and insiders working against me at every turn, I had decided the need to keep my plans a secret were paramount. I couldn’t risk my uncle getting word early and queering the deal, but these men were literally bleeding with me, so I needed to keep that in mind.
“In fact, I share many of your concerns. However,” I paused to give the word heavy meaning, “while we don’t have time to go into the all of it now, let me assure you,” I could feel my eyes turning red as I considered my revenge against that traitorous cur of a pirate uncle, “that I speak from the depths of my soul, that no one wants to see Tracto saved, the pirates crushed, and these Bugs dealt with once and for all more than me.”
Realizing that at some point I’d come out of my chair, and I now stood with a clenched fist raised and pointed at the main screen, I suppressed surge of humiliated embarrassment. I had to soldier on and not let them see how out of control I’d been, so with a flourish I sat back down in my chair.
“Dealing with these Bugs ourselves is not some emotional, rage-driven decision…nor is it the strategy of a desperate man,” I said in a much cooler voice and I smiled. From the looks of the men on the screen, it wasn’t as reassuring a smile as I’d first assumed. “I may have been captured…we may have been captured before,” I corrected myself, “that said, if you take a look at the record, the only people that have survived the fury of the MSP have been the ones who cut and ran at the first opportunity. Cowards, in other words,” I sneered derisively. “This time we’ve got them right where we want them. This time…” I was breathing heavily, with my best attempts to stay cool and collected failing once again as I imagined paying back those pirate dogs for what they’d done to us, “this time we’ll do to them what we tried to do the first time.”
The captains looked more than halfway convinced, except for the doubting Thomas who had been questioning me all along.
“And if they try to run away when we go after them again?” asked the doubtful captain.
“Greed,” I said simply.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t get that last part?” the Captain asked with a look of confusion.
“They’re sitting on enough Trillium to run three sectors,” I said dismissively, “they’ll only bug out when they know they’re whipped. Not think—know. This is the big score, and everyone knows it.”
The doubting Thomas started to open his mouth, but I cut him off with a gesture. “You’ve got your orders, men,” I said sharply, “so let’s be about it.” I clapped my hands and motioned for the com-tech to sever the connection. I hadn’t meant to allow my order clarification to turn into a general question and answer session on the mission of the fleet as a whole, but it was done and over with.
The com-tech cut the connection before they could do more than acknowledge their orders. On the main screen, the Bug ships were getting closer and several seconds later the two Corvettes and the two Cutters still accompanying the new Flagship lunged forward.
“Bug sign; it looks like they’ve spotted us and are flaring their drives to intercept, Admiral,” reported the Sensor Officer.
“Steady as she goes, bridge,” I said in a loud, carrying voice.
“Yes,” echoed Laurent eyes flickering toward me and then back to the rest of the bridge, “steady on crew, and wait for further orders.”
“The light squadron is making its attack run,” reported First Officer Eastwood in a professional voice, just before the Sensor Officer could say anything. It was almost comical to watch the Warrant Officer slowly close his mouth and turn back to his Sensor section with a faint look of dissatisfaction on his face.
“And there they go,” reported the Sensor Warrant right before Eastwood had the chance. On the screen, the small squadron of light MSP warships smashed into a corner of the enemy formation. They tore through the Bugs, leaving one Scout destroyed and another pair streaming atmosphere.
“Looks like they’re being followed, Admiral,” the Sensor Officer said uneasily as a half dozen undamaged Bugs started in on pursuit, evenly split between Marauder and basic Scout classes. The two already damaged Scouts fell in behind their undamaged brethren, and a total of eight Scouts headed off in pursuit of our light squadron.
Of course, that left something on the order of fifteen smaller Bug ships and a Large Harvester coming right for us—long odds, if it was just the Flagship.
“What are our chances of plowing our way through those escorts and slugging it out with the Harvester without being destroyed?” I asked Laurent casually.
Captain Laurent looked over at me sharply and then stepped over. “No chance,” he said flatly.
I looked at him disgustedly. I was used to a little more gilding of the lily in these sorts of situations, something like: ‘somewhere on the order between slim and none, Sir,’ or perhaps ‘Not very good,’ or even, ‘we’d need Murphy’s own blessed hand hovering over us to succeed with such a…daring maneuver.’ Sadly, there seemed to be little levity in the ship’s captain right then, and I heaved a sigh.
“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to work on evening up the odds a bit first, hmm?” I said with a faint smile to show that I wasn’t in the least bit concerned. Even though in the back of my mind, where no one else could see, I was very much quite concerned.
The Cutter and Corvette group advanced far enough beyond their pursuers that they started arcing back around with the eight Bugs still in hot pursuit. They dodged around the rear end of the Bug formation and swooped down below to avoid the Harvester as they tagged another pair of Scouts on the edge of the Bug formation before once again arcing out wide.
“Bug Scout Marauders entering extreme range,” reported the sensor warrant.
“Gunnery is to fire upon targets of opportunity, Tactical,” Captain Laurent ordered.
“Targets of opportunity, aye, Captain,” replied Eastwood before relaying the instructions into his microphone.
“Any orders for a change of course, Admiral?” Captain Laurent asked.
I suppressed a start; staring at the tactical picture was much more mesmerizing when I wasn’t playing a computer simulation and had actual people and ships on the line. Plus, keeping track of multiple groups of ships was a different experience from just dealing with a single, powerful battleship.
“Adjust course down ten degrees and over fifteen degrees to starboard; I want to cut through the bottom corner of their formation,” I replied as smoothly as I could manage.
&nbs
p; “Course adjusting, Admiral,” DuPont exclaimed with excitement.
Captain Laurent frowned but didn’t say anything.
We could tell the moment we came into Bug range, as they commenced firing in all directions. Our laser cannons thundered in response—well, ‘whined’ might be a more accurate description, but in my mind they thundered, especially when they tore into the hulls of the Bug Scouts and Scout Marauders.
“Shields to 72% and falling,” the Shield Operator reported mere seconds into our passing within firing range of the Bugs.
“Recommend we roll to give our starboard side a chance at some of these Bugs and compensate for overheating, Captain,” Eastwood suggested.
“The Harvester is turning toward us and increasing speed, Sir,” the Sensor Warrant reported.
“Roll the ship to compensate,” I instructed DuPont.
“Port shields starting to spot,” the Shield Officer said in a rising voice.
“Don’t adjust shield power to compensate; keep the starboard side strong, Shields,” Laurent barked at Shields.
“Rolling now,” DuPont declared, right on the heels of the Captain’s declaration.
On the screen, the Gift ponderously rolled to present a new facing to the Bug scout ships, and the moment it did a renewed storm of fury lashed out from our as-yet silent starboard broadside. One, two, and then a second pair of Bugs broke in half or imploded to go silent and dead in cold space.
“Steady on, Helm,” Captain Laurent’s voice cut across the bridge, “and prepare to adjust our course to compensate; that Harvester’s increased its speed.”
“Yes, Captain,” growled DuPont his hands tight on his controls and his face locked on his piloting board.
“Comm.’s,” I said, turning my head to the com-tech, “the detached squadron is to continue coming about until they are on a course to pass just behind our ship. Advise them that we intend to cut the corner of this Bug formation as well.”
“Yes, Admiral,” the man at communications replied. He turned back to his console, “Relaying now.”
Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 31
