So when Imallye’s ships suddenly altered their vectors a bit to starboard and slightly down, they rapidly closed to within range of their weapons, the relative speed between the pirate’s ships and the alien warships slightly less than point one light speed.
Leytenant Mack stared in disbelief as the battle cruisers and heavy cruisers in Imallye’s force unleashed missiles on the leading enigma warships, following quickly with hell lances and grapeshot as the range dwindled. The enigmas were firing back, but Imallye’s pass was too swift and her track too far ahead of the alien formation for most of the enigma ships to engage her warships. A half dozen of the enigma craft at the front of their formation exploded or took damage serious enough to knock them out of the fight, while Imallye’s ships took only a few hits.
In the wake of the attack the enigmas kept accelerating, continuing their pursuit of the transports, en route to a linkup with the rest of the enigma armada.
But instead of swinging out wide, Imallye shifted her ships through a tight vector change to port, using her still-superior velocity and the small differences in the course of the two formations to veer across the front of the enigma formation again.
This time five enigma ships were knocked out.
With a third of their number lost, the enigmas finally broke off, bending downward in a vast curve that was still tighter than any human warship could manage.
“A message from Vengeance,” the senior specialist gasped to Mack.
Feeling dazed, he accepted it, seeing the image of Granaile Imallye before him. Black skin suit, large knife, large hand weapon, glittering insignia, and a small smile on her lips. “I bought you some time, Iceni’s minion. Keep going and hope she can protect you from the other group of enigmas. This group won’t get past my ships.”
Mack had to swallow before he could speak. “Th-thank you, honored . . . honored . . .”
Imallye made a cutting motion with one hand. “I’m busy. Contact those Syndicate transports ahead of you and tell them I’d be happy to accept them into my forces after this fight is over. Or they can die, if that’s their preference. Out.”
Her image vanished.
Mack managed to breathe in deeply, then gestured to his senior specialist with one hand that shook as he tried to point with it. “Get me a link to those Syndicate transports.”
The specialist nodded, biting her lip. “You’re going to do what she said?”
“Am I going to do what Imallye said? Hell, yes, I am going to do what Imallye said! Anyone who disapproves is welcome to trade places with me for the last hour!”
* * *
DESPITE the damage that Manticore’s formation had endured so far, Bradamont felt herself smiling. Kapitan Stein on Gryphon had caught the flotilla she was fighting in a perfect firing run, angling in from one side as the Syndicate formation tried to loop upward, that had knocked out one of the light cruisers and two of the Hunter-Killers. Stein had lost one of her HuKs, damaged and out of the fight but hopefully salvageable. But over two hours ago she had hurt the Syndicate flotilla facing Gryphon’s force badly enough that it had turned and run back for the hypernet gate. “Kapitan Stein, excellent work. Continue pursuit until the Syndicate flotilla you are fighting enters the hypernet gate, then come on and join us so we can get rid of this Syndicate flotilla as well.”
It would take nearly half a day yet, but at some point Midway’s combined flotilla would nearly equal the remaining Syndicate flotilla, and from what she had already seen of the Syndicate commander, she knew she could hold him off indefinitely with that force. Or at least until the rest of Midway’s warships returned.
“Watch him,” she warned Diaz. “The commander of the flotilla we’re facing will have also seen the other flotilla fleeing and know that Gryphon will be coming to join with us. He’ll be trying harder to knock us out fast and may take some unexpected risks. Don’t give him any openings.”
* * *
GWEN Iceni rubbed her chin as she saw that another reply had come in from Imallye. Sighing, she accepted the call.
Imallye wasn’t on the bridge of her battle cruiser, but in what was obviously her stateroom, decorated with some small but ostentatious examples of the loot she must have acquired from conquered worlds. Imallye wore a smile this time. Not a friendly smile. More like the smile of a co-conspirator who didn’t trust her cohorts. “I’ll always hate you, Iceni, but I hate the Syndicate more. The Syndicate used you to get my father. They thought they could use me to help get you and other disloyal elements. I don’t know what the enigmas think, but I can see what they did, and my sources within the Syndicate told me that Black Jack suspects the enigmas think they can use humans to get other humans.”
She leaned closer, intent, her eyes searching as if they could see Iceni. “I sent agents to study you. I wanted to know who you were using, so I could use those people against you. But my agents said they couldn’t find anyone. They kept reporting that you were acting so clean that the snakes were getting very suspicious of you. My agents wondered why any Syndicate CEO would fail to use people. They didn’t realize that you might actually be feeling guilty.”
Imallye leaned back again, smiling slightly once more. “Maybe you are. Do you know why I named this ship Vengeance? To always remind myself that only mindless machines let their actions be dictated by anger and attempts at revenge. The snakes didn’t realize that, of course, though they didn’t trust me, either. It took me a long time to find every snake that the Syndicate had planted among my crews and locate every piece of malware they had sown in my ships’ systems. Your Kommodor helped with that when she employed that piece of snake malware against me since it provided me with an up-to-date example of the latest snake tricks. But I had to wait a little longer, until those governing the star systems I had allegedly conquered were ready to set in motion actual overthrows of Syndicate authority.
“I didn’t want to reveal my intentions while the snakes held so many hostages on that planet, but your ground forces commander must have somehow figured out how to make the enigmas kill every snake on the ground for him. Once I had confirmed that, well . . .” She waved around casually. “A lot of snakes died a short time ago on my ships here. Some sort of epidemic, do you think? And all of their malware was rendered useless before it could cause catastrophic failures. I am free to act as I will. We have two common enemies. I will always hate you for what you caused to happen to my father, but I have admired from afar your repeated frustrating of the Syndicate’s plans. And you have some powerful friends. One very powerful friend named Black Jack among them. I would like him to be my friend, too. Once we have swept the enigmas from this star system, we will talk about what to do with Iwa. My ships will not fire upon yours unless they are fired upon first, or if an attack seems imminent. I trust you will continue to operate with discretion. Now, if you will forgive me, I have some more enemies to dispose of.”
Her lips quirked as if Imallye was fighting down another smile. “For the people, Imallye, out.”
Iceni stared at the place where Imallye’s image had been, then laughed. “You devious bitch! You completely fooled me. And you fooled the Syndicate into giving you the warships and star systems you now control. Brilliant. I do not want someone as dangerous as you as an enemy.” She tapped a comm control. “Kommodor Marphissa, I am pleased to inform you that Imallye’s flotilla will not attack us. She says she will deal with the enigma warships that launched from the planet.”
Marphissa shook her head in denial. “Madam President, we can’t afford to believe—” She looked to one side. “She’s changed the vector on her ships. They’re not heading to intercept our transports.”
Iceni pulled up her own display, and watched as Imallye’s warships in a couple of whipsaw passes took out a third of the enigma force chasing the transports. “I’d say that is pretty powerful proof that Imallye meant what she said.”
“She could stil
l stab us in the back,” Marphissa argued.
“I agree. We will not give her the opportunity to do so. Focus your full attention on destroying the first enigma force, which is probably about to realize that their ambush has blown up in their faces, and I will maintain a watch on Imallye to see if she maneuvers at any point to be able to hit us by surprise.”
* * *
“THIRTY minutes to contact with enigma armada one,” the senior watch specialist announced.
Marphissa eyed the oncoming enemy, who had long ago steadied out on vectors aiming straight for where the center of her formation would be when the two forces made contact. She had already pivoted her warships so the sterns, and the main propulsion units, were facing the enemy. It would be necessary to brake soon to ensure the meeting with the enigmas was slow enough to allow some hits on the enemy.
The enigmas would brake their velocity as well, she knew. The aliens wanted to destroy her flotilla as thoroughly as they had the Syndicate flotilla.
And she wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming they would go straight through her formation and risk going head-to-head with the battleship. No, the enigmas would maneuver, and it wasn’t hard to guess what their target would be.
What would the enigmas expect her to do?
After so many encounters with different foes, Marphissa was surprised at the answer that came to her. Yet it felt right.
“All units in Midway flotilla, immediate execute, reduce velocity to point one light speed.” Having given that order, Marphissa swiftly tagged two people on her comm panel, then gestured Kontos to join the discussion.
“You don’t need my approval,” President Iceni began.
“I am not asking for approval,” Marphissa explained. “I want your opinion. And those of Kapitans Mercia and Kontos as well. I was trying to anticipate what the enigmas would expect me to do, what final maneuver they would think I would conduct just before contact, and I realized they would not expect me to maneuver at all. They will expect me to hold course, straight through them.”
She waited while the others reacted to her statement, then as they thought about it.
“Just as the CEO of the Syndicate flotilla did?” Kontos asked. “But we just saw his flotilla being destroyed.”
Iceni was nodding, though. “How many flotillas were destroyed in a similar way during the war with the Alliance? We kept doing it. Both sides kept doing it. It was all we knew. And sometimes it worked.”
“They know we have changed,” Mercia said.
“Do they?” Marphissa asked. “We have not fought the enigmas before. The Syndicate has, and the Syndicate continues to usually employ the same tactics it always has.”
Iceni nodded again, her eyes thoughtful. “The enigmas know that Black Jack’s fleet fights differently, but they also know that we are not Black Jack. What they know of warships like ours is that they fight like that CEO led them to fight.”
“And that we do not let failure cause us to change our tactics,” Marphissa said. “The enigmas will expect us to do the same as always. They have not fought us before. They have not seen us fight that we know of. We will surprise them if we maneuver on the final approach.”
“Maneuver how?” Mercia asked.
“The enigmas will target Pele and our heavy cruisers. They can take out all three of those ships in their first pass if they can concentrate their fire on them. Agreed?” Everyone nodded. “So I will jog the formation upward, changing who the mass of enigma ships encounter.”
“Midway,” Kapitan Mercia said.
“Yes,” Marphissa said. “Not a battle cruiser with limited armament and armor and shields, but a battleship.”
Iceni looked down and off to the side, thinking. “Even a battleship will take some damage from an assault like that.”
“Agreed,” said Mercia. “But it is what battleships do. It’s what Midway is made for.”
“Is there a risk we’ll lose Midway?” Iceni asked.
“Based on our analysis of what we’ve seen of the firepower of the enigma warships, there is only a small chance,” Marphissa said. “Mostly due to the possibility of a suicide ramming such as the enigmas attempted against some of Black Jack’s ships.”
“They attempted the suicide ramming when that seemed their only remaining option,” Kontos pointed out. “And if they are not expecting Midway to be where they encounter her, they will not have a ship in position to ram in any case.”
“Hopefully,” Marphissa agreed. “We could hurt them badly during the first engagement. We must hurt them badly then, because they will know to avoid the battleship after that, and a battleship cannot bring the battle to warships as agile as the enigma craft against their will.”
There was a moment’s silence as everyone waited for Iceni to render her opinion. Finally, Iceni nodded. “I think your reasoning is sound, Kommodor. I look forward to seeing it employed.”
“Thank you, Madam President. Do you wish to transfer—?”
“No. I will remain aboard this ship.”
Mercia nodded to Marphissa. “Let’s show them what a real battleship can do.”
“Stand by for maneuvering orders,” Marphissa said, then ended the call.
“I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Kontos confessed. “The battleships are so slow, I think I stopped thinking about them as anything but defensive assets.”
She shook her head at him. “The trick is getting the enemy to bash his head against your strongest point, right? These enigmas think they know us, but what they know is the Syndicate.”
The enigmas had begun braking as well. Both forces were sweeping together for a first clash that might well decide who would triumph.
* * *
“YOU’RE in command?” Rogero asked as he knelt in the ruins of a portable command shelter littered with the remains of those who had been in the shelter when the initial enigma attack hit. Most of his soldiers had fallen back to this area, only some scouts remaining to watch the enigma hole for signs of new trouble.
The Syndicate soldier facing him nodded, the gesture wobbling with weariness. “Senior Worker Hams. All of our supervisors are dead, either in the first attack or soon afterward. Are you who I talked to before you landed? You sound like him.”
Rogero nodded. “Yes. What about snakes?”
Hams managed a snort of laughter. “All dead. Some were just wounded in the first strike, but they, uh, didn’t survive their wounds. We made sure of that. What the hell are we fighting?”
“They’re called enigmas. We know very little about them. But we’ve now learned they are very tough in ground combat situations.”
“Yeah.” Hams lowered his head, then raised it again with some difficulty. “We’re about one-third strength, I think. Lost a lot of people.”
“How are the citizens?” Rogero asked.
“Most of them are all right. They were separated from the ground forces and wearing nothing but survival suits, so the enemy weapons haven’t targeted them.”
A warning sounded on Rogero’s armor. He and Worker Hams lay flat as another major barrage by the enigmas swept over the area.
“How long can they keep this up?” Hams asked despairingly as the assault waned again. “We’ve got nobody to shoot at. Just distance weapons tearing us up.”
“Can your people pull back?” Rogero asked. “We’re still sitting over what may be part of their base.”
“We are? Damned CEOs! Why did they drop—”
“Answer,” Rogero snapped, knowing the Syndicate-standard command would shock Hams out of his fatigue-induced rage.
“I understand and will comply.” Hams gestured to his right. “If your unit helps, we can move. Cover us, help us get the wounded moved. We can do it. But the citizens . . . the aliens haven’t targeted them yet. If they start moving, though . . .”
That was a prob
lem. Rogero wished he could rub his forehead through his helmet visor, but the atmosphere of this wreck of a planet was even more toxic than usual thanks to all of the enigma weapons that had detonated in this area. “How many of your supplies are left? My people need active countermeasure reloads and replacement power packs.”
Hams lowered his head again, shaking it slowly from side to side. “Nothing. All blown to pieces. The shuttles just dropped it all over the place, and the enemy weapons have been tearing it up ever since they opened fire. Sir, we’re gone. It’s over. Right? Nobody’s coming for us.”
“Wrong,” Rogero said, as calmly and forcefully as he could. “My side has a flotilla up there, including a battleship.”
“A battleship?” The hope in the question was easy to hear. “But we’re just workers—”
“Listen. One of our heavy cruisers risked itself to pull three workers off this planet who had survived the attack that destroyed the Syndicate base here. You understand? They weren’t our people. They weren’t supervisors. They were just workers who needed help. And our mobile forces came for them. They’ll come for us, too, and they’ll pull you off with us.” Rogero made that sound as if it were a certainty. And it would be, if the Midway flotilla survived the fights with the enigmas and the pirate.
Hams stayed silent, looking at Rogero. “Sir, that’s . . . hard to believe.”
“Two of them came back with my unit. They volunteered to come back. You can talk to them. But first, I need you to tell everyone in your unit that all humans down here are on the same side.”
“Sir, you could have wiped us out if you wanted. I surrender the unit.”
“I don’t want you to surrender, I need you to keep fighting alongside my soldiers! Can you do that?”