“I’m sure you can manage it,” Rione remarked.
“We already have decoys in place to lure them toward the Casualty Flotilla,” Desjani pointed out.
He frowned at the display, knowing that she meant the auxiliaries. Without its auxiliaries, the Alliance fleet would be doomed, certain to run out of fuel cells as well as expendable munitions long before it could reach Alliance space again. It made them critically important to protect, and the best possible lures for an enemy attack. “We already did that once at Sancere. Will they be fooled again?”
“We just have to do it differently,” Desjani argued.
“Got any ideas?” Geary asked.
As it turned out, she did. Not ideas that he completely liked, but enough to toss back and forth as they came up with a plan. Every once in a while he glanced at Rione to see if she had anything to add, but Rione was just gazing stony-faced at her own display.
“CAPTAIN Tyrosian, get any shuttles and personnel not engaged in looting Syndic repair ships or rigging up the hulks to explode to work doing highly visible plundering of materials off other Syndic shipping in the Casualty Flotilla.”
The engineer, doubtless ready to announce proudly the progress of the pillaging so far, froze in midword and looked confused. “Sir?”
“I want the Syndics to see us desperately grabbing everything we can,” Geary repeated. “Food and anything else. They need to think that you need to stay with the Casualty Flotilla as long as possible to grab as much as you can. We need to look desperate for supplies, Captain Tyrosian.”
“We . . . are desperate for supplies, sir,” Tyrosian protested.
Desjani barely avoided laughing, instead making a choking sound to one side that Geary ignored. “Captain Tyrosian, ” he explained patiently, “we’re going to keep your auxiliaries with the Casualty Flotilla long past the point of safety once the Syndic Pursuit Flotilla shows up. They’re going to be focused on you anyway, since your four auxiliaries are the most critical parts of our fleet. The Syndics need a plausible reason for your ships staying with the Casualty Flotilla while the Syndics come right for you. If they think you need to keep grabbing stuff off the Syndic hulks, it will provide that reason.”
Tyrosian took a moment to reply. “We’re bait again?”
“Yes, Captain, you’re bait again.”
The engineering officer looked depressed, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Needless to say,” Geary felt compelled to add, “we’ll do everything we can to keep your ships from actually being destroyed.”
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate that.”
“I will provide detailed maneuvering instructions for your ships once the Syndic pursuit force arrives and we know their movement vectors. Thank you, Captain Tyrosian. ”
Twenty minutes later, with a few more Alliance shuttles out among the Syndic hulks and survival-suited sailors making a show of tossing looted supplies from Syndic ships into the open cargo bays of the shuttles, the alarms that Geary had been dreading finally sounded.
“The Syndic pursuit force has arrived at the jump point from Ixion,” the operations watch-stander announced.
Geary held his breath as the Alliance fleet’s sensors evaluated the enemy force appearing at the jump point, which was now fifteen light-minutes away, meaning the Syndics had already had fifteen minutes to decide what to do and to start doing it before the Alliance fleet had even seen their arrival in this star system.
The number of HuKs and light cruisers in the pursuit force was still impressive despite all of the losses that the Alliance fleet had managed to inflict. The ranks of the Syndic heavy cruisers, on the other hand, had been decimated during the engagements at Lakota the last time the Alliance fleet was here, with many destroyed and twenty-two heavy cruisers among the badly damaged ships that had remained in the star system. Nine of those twenty-two had already been destroyed, and the remainder were abandoned and part of the Casualty Flotilla. Only sixteen heavy cruisers remained with the Syndic pursuit force.
The Syndic capital warships flashed into existence, their numbers multiplying. Ten battleships. Fifteen. Thirty-one. Six battle cruisers. Thirteen battle cruisers.
“Thirty-one battleships and thirteen battle cruisers,” Desjani murmured. “Not too bad.”
“They’re in better shape than ours are,” Geary noted. He checked the numbers he already knew by heart. The Alliance fleet still had twenty-two battleships, the two scout battleships, and seventeen battle cruisers. Plus twenty-nine heavy cruisers. But a number of those Alliance warships had significant battle damage, and even though the Alliance ships had been resupplied with some new expendable munitions, the Syndics probably had much better inventories of missiles and grapeshot on hand.
Thirty-one enemy battleships. Geary took a moment to relax himself, knowing he had to respect that much combat capability and yet not get unnerved by it. “Our only advantage is in the number of heavy cruisers,” he said out loud.
Desjani shook her head, “We’ve got another very big advantage, ” she corrected. “That Syndic commander last saw us running for safety and has had eleven days to fix that image in their mind. Now that commander is going to see how much damage we’ve done to the Syndic warships left behind here, which is going to create a lot of anger. Overconfidence and anger add up to recklessness, sir.”
“I can’t disagree with your math,” Geary said. He couldn’t help thinking that overconfidence on his part and his own anger at the more recalcitrant among his ship captains might have led him to make a reckless decision to come to Lakota the first time. That scarcely mattered now, though. What counted would be taking advantage of an enemy commander’s own probable state of mind. “Let’s see if he does what we expect.”
As the minutes went past, it became increasingly obvious that the Syndic commander, whether reckless or not, was doing as they hoped. The Syndic formation altered slightly as it accelerated toward an intercept with the Alliance ships, the standard Syndic box formation adjusting into a deep rectangular shape with one broad side facing the Alliance fleet. The box was a decent multipurpose formation whose length, width, and depth could be adjusted for different tactical situations, but it had its limitations in terms of bringing firepower to bear on any point in any enemy formation and in adjusting its facing quickly. It seemed to be the only formation the Syndic commanders had been trained (or allowed) to use, though.
“Heading to intercept the Alliance ships with the Casualty Flotilla,” Desjani noted with a smile.
Geary checked the estimated time to intercept. With the Alliance fleet slowed to match the Casualty Flotilla’s velocity, all of the Alliance warships were headed away from the Syndic pursuit force at less than point zero two light speed. Coming on fast behind them and increasing velocity, the pursuit force had reached point zero seven nine light speed. Geary told Dauntless’s maneuvering systems to assume the Syndics would continue accelerating to point one light speed and came up with a time to contact of two hours and fifty-one minutes.
Assuming the Alliance ships didn’t themselves maneuver. For a long time Geary’s plan had been to run when the Syndic pursuit force showed up, because given the probable size of the Syndic force and his fleet’s status, he didn’t see any alternative. The plan for using the Casualty Flotilla as a weapon had changed that. Unless the Syndics inexplicably gave up the pursuit, he would have had to fight this force eventually anyway. Now he might be able to beat it.
“Will they believe that we’re just waiting around here for them?” Rione asked.
“Hopefully they’ll think we’re trying to decide what to do,” Geary explained. Just as at the Syndicate Worlds’ home star system, when the Alliance fleet had wasted precious time debating who was in command and what they should do. “The Big Ugly Ball formation will make them think I may not be in command anymore.”
“Big Ugly Ball? I see. You’re going to simulate indecision and frozen panic.”
“That’s the idea,” Geary agreed, h
oping that both indecision and panic would remain simulated.
Rione came close again and ensured that the sound-deadening field around Geary’s command seat was activated. “Even I can tell that this is a very risky battle. What are our odds of winning?”
“That depends,” Geary said. He saw her aggravated reaction. “Honestly. If certain things happen as I’ve planned, we’ve got a good chance.”
“And if they don’t?”
“It’s going to be bad. We’d have to fight them sooner or later.”
She eyed him a moment longer. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that Dauntless get back to Alliance space. Not the fleet as a whole. Dauntless. The Syndic hypernet key on her can tip the balance of this war even if every other ship in this fleet is lost.”
He glared at the deck. “I know. Why’d you tell me that when you knew you didn’t have to tell me that?”
“Because you’re still focused on saving as much of this fleet as possible. You can’t forget the bigger picture. If it becomes a matter of losing Dauntless while trying to save as much of this fleet as you can, or getting Dauntless home no matter how many other Alliance ships are lost, your duty demands that you focus on Dauntless.”
“I don’t need lectures on duty,” Geary muttered. Rione was right in a big way, he knew she was right, but it wasn’t a kind of right he could live with.
“The other ships could hold off the Syndic pursuit force while a fast task force built around Dauntless was loaded with as many fuel cells as they could carry and headed for Alliance space,” Rione insisted, her voice unemotional.
“Run away, you mean. You’re suggesting that Dauntless and a few other ships run and leave the rest of the fleet to its fate.”
“Yes!” He looked at her again and saw in Rione’s eyes that she wasn’t liking what she suggested, either, but that she felt obligated to push for it. Duty. Her duty to the Alliance. “You have to remember the big picture, Captain John Geary! We all do! It’s not about what we want, it’s about what we have to do!”
He dropped his gaze to the deck once more. “Whatever we have to do to win. We’re back to that, huh?” She didn’t answer. “I’m sorry, but I’m the wrong hero for that. I can’t do what you’re suggesting.”
“There’s still time—”
“I didn’t say it couldn’t be done, I said I can’t do it. I won’t abandon these other ships to their fates. I won’t allow the big picture to justify betraying the trust of the men and women who’ve placed their fates in my hands.”
Rione sounded both pleading and angry. “They all took an oath to sacrifice for the Alliance.”
“Yes, they did. So did I.” He finally looked at her again. “But I can’t do that, even if it costs the Alliance the war. The price would be too great.”
Her anger grew. “We can pay any price that is necessary, Captain Geary. For our homes. For our families.”
“I’m supposed to tell their families that? ‘People of the Alliance, I sacrificed your parents, your partners, your children, for you.’ How many people would really make that kind of bargain? Would anyone willing to make that bargain deserve to win?”
“We all make it, every day! You know that! Every civilian makes that bargain when they send their military off to war! We know they’re risking their lives for us!”
She was right about that, too. But not entirely. “They trust us not to waste those lives,” Geary stated heavily. “I will not trade the lives of the people of this fleet for a Syndic hypernet key. I will lead them and fight like hell to get that key home to Alliance space, but I will not write off the lives of my people as a necessary price for that. The moment I decide that any price is justified is the moment I betray my trust and what I see as my duty. We’ll win or we’ll die together, with honor.”
Rione gazed back at him for a while, then shook her head. “Part of me is very angry with you, and part of me is very grateful that I couldn’t convince you. I’m not a monster, John Geary.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He jerked his head toward his display, where the movements of the warships in this star system were clearly shown. “But a lot of people are going to die today because of my decisions now and in the past. Sometimes I wonder what that makes me.”
“Look in the eyes of your comrades, Captain Geary,” Rione replied in a quiet voice. “The ones you wouldn’t leave. Reflected in those eyes you’ll see what you are.”
Rione returned to her seat. Geary took a few deep breaths, noticing that Captain Desjani was acting totally absorbed in her own work. He wondered what she might have guessed about his and Rione’s conversation.
As much to distract himself as because he needed to, Geary called Captain Cresida. “I’m going to order the auxiliaries to break away from the Syndic Casualty Flotilla in two hours. Until then they’re going to keep putting on a public display of frantically pulling everything they can off the Syndic ships.”
Cresida nodded, only the rapidity of the gesture revealing her prebattle nerves. Those thirty-one Syndic battleships and thirteen battle cruisers were aimed straight at her force, and for protection of the auxiliaries she had only two battle cruisers, four battleships, of which three were in various states of disrepair, and a gaggle of escorts with varying degrees of damage. “We’ll cover the auxiliaries, but we’re going to need backup.”
“It’ll be coming,” Geary promised. “Don’t let Furious and Implacable get into a slugging match with those Syndic battleships. Try to disrupt their attacks instead of meeting them head-on.” He was reciting advice from peacetime tactical workshops a century ago to someone who’d fought dozens of battles.
But Cresida nodded again as if Geary had imparted some piece of hidden wisdom. “Warrior can’t maneuver well enough to dodge. She’ll have to meet the attack. I don’t know about Majestic and Orion.”
Geary’s ship status display showed that both Majestic and Orion had regained most of their maneuvering capability, so he guessed that Cresida was actually expressing doubt about what they’d do when confronted by the mass of Syndic battleships. He wasn’t sure of that himself. “I understand. Conqueror shouldn’t give you any trouble.” Captain Casia was technically senior to Cresida, but Geary had painstakingly crafted orders which so limited Casia’s role to close defense of the auxiliaries that he shouldn’t be able to interfere with the actions of the much-more-capable Cresida.
“I hope Conqueror manages to give the enemy some trouble, ” Cresida observed.
“Me, too. We’re going to disrupt the attack before it reaches you. Hopefully that’ll do enough damage to make the plan work.”
Cresida smiled, startling Geary. “If it doesn’t, there’s worse fates. I’ve got someone waiting for me.”
It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t talking about someone waiting at home, but rather about what would happen if Furious was destroyed in the engagement. “We need you, Captain Cresida. Do your duty, but the Alliance already has too many dead heroes.”
“Yes, it does.” Cresida nodded again.
Geary ended the transmission and stared at his display, where the mighty Syndic pursuit force was still accelerating into its attack. He wondered how many more dead heroes the Alliance would have before this day ended.
FOUR
“YOU’RE not going to change the formation?” Captain Desjani asked again.
“No, I’m not going to change the formation!” Geary gave her an annoyed glance. How many times had she asked the question over the last hour? “We need to look like an easy, disorganized target.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we are an easy, disorganized target in this formation.” Desjani saw Geary’s scowl deepen but kept speaking. “Our firepower is spread throughout a wide region. The Syndics will be able to overwhelm each of those subformations one after another, just like we overcame each weak Syndic formation we encountered.”
She was stubborn, but she was smart, and under other circumstances she’d probably be right
. Geary forced down his temper. “We can’t engage them as a fleet. They have too great an advantage in firepower when you take into account that they probably have much bigger stocks of missiles and grapeshot on hand than we do.”
“If we concentrate on one part of the formation like you did last time we were in Lakota—”
“Tanya, look.” He gestured at the display. “Last time the Syndics let themselves get suckered into spreading out to catch us, which allowed us to concentrate and punch through. The CEO in command now was smart enough to learn from that. The Syndic formation is already concentrated into a fairly tight box.”
“Then we can maneuver around it.”
“Not with our fuel cell reserves in the state they are and not with the auxiliaries to worry about! They’ve taken on a lot of materials, and they’re sluggish as hell again with all of that extra mass.” Desjani glared at the display, clearly wanting to argue some more. Geary kept his voice reasonable with some effort. “The disadvantage of the Syndic formation is that it’s so deep and dense that their CEO can’t maneuver it easily. If our trap fails, we’ll have to take what advantage we can of that by hitting it again and again on the edges.”
“It would take forever to wear down that force that way,” Desjani pointed out. “We don’t have enough fuel cells to do that, either.”
He took a moment to reply, looking at the display again, where the Syndic pursuit force was eight light-minutes distant. It had reached point one light speed and was still coming right for them, its box formation looking like a huge brick aimed at the Alliance fleet’s bubble. Desjani was right, of course. He knew that. Sure, a head-on clash of concentrated formations would almost certainly result in the Alliance fleet being shattered against the much stronger Syndic force. But at least the end would happen quickly. What would be the purpose of drawing it out, losing ships one by one over a much longer period, with the same defeat awaiting them in the end?