by B. V. Larson
Straker scowled. “How the hell do you know that? You’ve barely come aboard. You have those thousands of Ruxin techs you’ve been bragging about, you have the chief here to teach you all you need to know, and we’ll be taking that base as soon as we get there. Get it done!”
Zaxby waved his tentacles in all directions. “I would if I could, but any thinking being can see my logic. If these people have not overcome Indomitable’s problems with years to work on them, even my highly competent fellow Ruxins cannot ‘get it done’ as you so blithely declare. This ship masses approximately eight times that of the Freiheit habitat. It is more than three kilometers in length. It could comfortably hold a crew of fifty thousand, though I suspect five thousand will be enough were the quarters ever brought up to proper standards.”
“So, like I said, it’s just a matter of time and effort.”
“I do not believe so. It’s not like a habitat composed largely of rock. It is a manufactured thing, and every section is part of a complex machine consisting of millions—no billions—of pieces that must work together in harmony. In my expert opinion, Commodore Straker, this ship will never be what you want it to be. It’s a boondoggle, a pipe dream, an albatross, a white elephant, a ball-and-chain—”
“Shut up!” Straker smashed his fist onto the back of a sturdy bridge chair, causing Chief Quade to take a step back in trepidation. “We have Indomitable and we’re going to put her to use!”
“Commodore.” Engels voice came from behind him. “May I have a word?”
Straker took a shuddering breath. “Sure, Commander.”
Engels tipped her head toward the exit. “Let’s take a walk.”
“All right…”
Once in the corridor, she stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. “Derek, you’re making a scene.”
“It’s Zaxby again. Always the naysayer, always undercutting me—”
“He’s that way with everyone, even me, but you let him push your buttons. You’re so used to being the boss that you’re starting to get flag officers’ disease.”
“Flag officers’ disease?”
“Yes. You’re getting a big head. You start thinking because you’re in charge, everyone should agree with you. You start thinking you’re always right. Even worse, you might start thinking anyone who disagrees with you is out to get you, or is disloyal. Maybe you start acting like Major Wagner, all touchy and petty. What did you tell me that Roman Caesar had whispered in his ear?”
“Remember, you are mortal,” said Straker, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. “Damn, Carla, you’re right. I’m sorry. But we got Indomitable without a fight! It’s like the Unknowable Creator dropped her right in my lap. Like it was meant to be. And now all I get is ‘nope, nope, nope.’ You saw Zaxby’s simulation. We need this battleship to work!”
Engels crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned back to look up into Straker’s face. “So Zaxby must be right about the sim, but he must be wrong about Indomitable? Seems to me you’re cherry picking, hearing what you want to hear and rejecting what you don’t. Somebody once said you have a right to your own opinions, but not your own facts. Zaxby’s giving you the facts. It’s up to you to do what you do best.”
“What’s that?” He couldn’t help but let sarcasm creep in.
“Make those facts work for us. You’ve got vision, Derek! That’s what makes you special. Not your genetic engineering, not your mechsuit skill, not even your stubborn inability to give up. Use that vision to see what’s possible and make it happen!”
Straker, as usual, began to pace. It helped him think, calmed his nerves. He felt Engels watching impassively as long moments went by. “Okay,” he finally said. “So Indomitable can’t be ready soon, but she can be put in shape eventually. It’s just a matter of throwing enough resources at the problem, right?”
“Maybe—but if the Mutuality doesn’t have those resources, what makes you think we can get them?”
Straker jabbed his index finger at her. “No, the Mutuality has the resources, but the project got caught in politics. Lazarus said Starkiller was the darling of the Director at the time, but he had a lot of opposition. When he got ousted, they scuttled the project because it was a symbol of that Director. If they’d have made it work, they’d have been admitting he was right and they were wrong, and if there’s one thing that’s poison to a politician, it’s ever, ever admitting he’s wrong.”
“That’s…irrational.”
“That’s politics. Didn’t you just as much as tell me I was becoming irrational? How much more do you think an oligarchy—a rule by a permanent elite class—would become irrational? All those swollen heads thinking they knew best, like you said? Nobody telling them unpleasant truths?”
Engels nodded grudgingly. “Okay, so maybe we can make Indomitable what she was meant to be. Cosmos knows I’d love to command her. But how do we do it?”
Straker grinned. “Who’re the best techno-geeks we know?”
“Ruxins, sure. But as Zaxby implied, even if we pull all ten thousand out of the fleet—leaving our fighting ships in bad shape, by the way—they couldn’t do it.”
“I know where there are three million Ruxins, building habs and mining asteroids and creating industry as fast as their squirmy little tentacles can move. I bet Vuxana can spare half a million of them—especially when you tell her Indomitable’s first task will be to free their home system.”
Engels stared at Straker, aghast. “You’re holding their home system hostage?”
“It’s a carrot, not a stick. I’m motivating her. While you and Zaxby take Indomitable home to the Starfish Nebula for a complete refit, I’ll be liberating as many star systems as I can. All we have to do is rendezvous at Ruxin. If Indomitable does what I think she will, the next thing we’ll do is strike at the heart of the Mutuality—the Committee Worlds.”
“I’m not leaving you to go get killed, Derek.”
“We need someone operational to ride herd on Zaxby, otherwise we have no idea what kind of monstrosity he’ll turn Indomitable into. Only you can do that.”
Engels shook her head. “I might be the best choice for the task, but I’m also your fleet commander, and you’re taking our ships into multiple combat situations. Someone else can oversee Zaxby.”
“Who?”
“Send Zholin. He’s the right kind of meticulous, and he’s proven trustworthy.”
“All right.”
Engels smiled broadly. “See? Vision. That’s your gift.”
Straker swept her up in his arms. “I have a vision right now of you and me in our bed.”
Zaxby’s voice came from behind Straker. “Please, delay your mating until later. I approve of your intention regarding Indomitable, Commodore. It is an efficient use of time and effort.”
“Thanks for eavesdropping, Zaxby. Saves me from having to brief you.” Straker kissed Engels, and then set her feet on the deck. “Commander, get our fleet moving toward the base. We’ll seize it, loot it of everything useful for the refit, drop off the loyalists, and meet Indomitable in flatspace to shuffle personnel and equipment.”
“Aye aye, Your Liberatorship.” Engels bounced off to the bridge.
“Zaxby, work with Quade to prep this pig for sidespace.”
“Multiple pigs, really,” Zaxby replied. “All sixteen sections must transition successfully. Do you begin to see the complications of this otherwise clever concept?”
“Theories are easy. Execution is hard. But if you can get Indomitable to the nebula, I know you’ll bring her up to snuff.”
“What an obscure idiom. I look forward to researching it in my databases.”
“Just get to work, Zaxby. If you do, I’ll—”
“—sing my praises? I believe you owe me at least one such song already.”
“I’ll give you two, since Indomitable’s so big.”
“I will hold you to your bargain, Commodore Derek Straker.”
“You want to keep yakking or you wan
t to liberate your homeworld?”
Zaxby spun and began moving away. “I take your meaning. I am dismissed.”
“I think I’m supposed to say that,” Straker said, but Zaxby had already turned a corner.
Chapter 19
Nawlins System, Battlecruiser Wolverine
I’ve been too predictable, Straker thought as he stared in mild shock at Wolverine’s holo-table showing the Nawlins system. He’d liberated eight stars in a shortest-distance line instead of jumping to an unexpected one, and that may have been a mistake.
Nawlins’ warm yellow star and the two Earthlike planets, one cool, one hot, held no surprises. Each bore a relatively small population of under one hundred million, dwarfed by the tens of billions inhabiting a typical Central or Committee world. More importantly, neither was protected by a true fortress, only by smaller orbitals based on obsolete warship hulks.
But the Nawlins system wasn’t defenseless. As Straker watched, a fleet of more than forty Mutuality warships appeared from behind the moon of Nawlins-4, known locally as Shreve, enough ships to challenge his own fleet.
“Can we get away?” Straker asked Engels.
“Not without at least one passage at arms,” replied Engels. “We’re too deep into the gravity zone to turn around now without being raked.”
Straker had learned enough about naval operations to understand the concept of being ‘raked.’ In the Old Earth days of wooden ships, it referred to any weapons fire striking the prow or stern of a ship, which was much more damaging as cannonballs would scream through the length of the vessel. The projectiles would smash flimsy bulkheads, dismount guns and rip men to shreds before losing all their energy. Straker likened it to a bullet hitting a man: a flesh wound was better, a slug to the organ-filled torso was far worse.
In modern parlance, though, a ‘rake’ only referred to strikes on the stern of a ship, vulnerable because of open engine exhausts and lack of rear-facing firepower. Capital weapons aimed forward, installed along the spines of warships and shielded by clamshell bow armor that opened when firing, closed when reloading or recharging. Thus, running from an enemy was not advisable unless the fleeing ships were faster and could extend away from the firing vessels. Dropped mines and backward-facing weapons could only partially compensate.
“Could we accelerate through them,” Straker asked, “with one round of fire as you say, and then escape out the other side?”
“Of course. That would minimize damage on both sides, but we’d pay the greater price.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve only got fighting ships. We have over one hundred freighters and auxiliaries in our wake, full of troops and supplies. If the enemy is smart, he’ll target these vulnerable vessels. Without armor and reinforcement, they’ll die like ants in a blowtorch. If we…” Engels trailed off, looking away.
Straker was cognizant of the audience on the bridge. “Go on, Captain. Say what’s on your mind.”
“Never mind,” Engels said, looking at the deck.
“You were about to say that if we’d sent recon drones ahead, we might have spotted them.”
Engels pressed her lips together and nodded sharply, once. She obviously didn’t want to embarrass him, but Straker preferred to keep everything out in the open rather than appear to be suppressing dissent.
“I vetoed it because I wanted to get as close as possible before the planetary defense forces were alerted to the fact that they were being attacked,” said Straker. “It was my decision, my fault.”
This admission seemed to embolden Engels. “Bringing the freighters in with us might also have been a mistake. If we’d parked them out in flatspace, they’d be out of the engagement zone and could transit away, leaving us free to maneuver.”
“That would have left them vulnerable to any ships arriving in the system, in which case we would’ve had to leave escorts with them, diminishing our fleet’s punch. Captain Engels, we went over all this and I made the decisions. It’s on me. But recriminations won’t change anything. The question is, what do we do now? Give me your expert opinion.”
Engels chewed her lip and stared at the holo-table, thinking. Straker knew her well enough to see she was irritated with him and with the situation.
“Perhaps I may assist.” This came from Major Kraxor, the War Male.
“What do you know of space combat?” asked Major Wagner. The two majors were inseparable, but only because Wagner seemed to want to keep an eye on the creature he’d decided was his personal rival to glory.
“Much, actually. I recently commanded a flotilla of Archerfish—eighty years ago, that is, before my long sleep. I was a highly effective commander.”
Straker turned to the Ruxin in surprise. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“Good point. So, how do you see it?”
Kraxor heaved his bulk up from his seat and moved to look at the holo-table. “We have many choices, but only two I would call acceptable. One, we accelerate and fight through, optimizing our warships for screening and defense of our freighters, tankers and auxiliaries. We will likely lose half of them, but few warships. We could move most personnel onto warships if we do it quickly. This will save some lives. We get away, transit out, and attack a random vulnerable system.”
“The other choice?”
“We fight. Reduce speed and engage, forcing the enemy to deal with our warships or be destroyed.”
Straker rubbed his jaw. “That’s putting everything on one roll of the dice. If we lose this battle, the Galactic Liberation movement is crippled. All our momentum will be lost.”
“Then we must not lose.”
Engels spoke up. “There’s a third choice.”
“What’s that?” asked Straker.
“We assign a task force of warships to slow down and tie up the enemy, while the rest make a run for it. By the time the delaying group is destroyed, the others will get away.”
“A suicide force, you mean.” Straker shook his head emphatically. “No. Hell no. I’m not consigning people to certain death. Better that we all roll the dice together.”
Engels opened her mouth to continue arguing, but Straker made a chopping motion with his hand. “No. That’s final.” He turned to include everyone on Wolverine’s bridge with his gaze. “We fight. Captain Engels, pass the orders.”
As the bridge crew burst into activity preparing for battle, Straker cudgeled his brain as he examined the holo-table’s three-dimensional display.
Fortunately, the enemy fleet contained only one dreadnought. Ships of that class were much slower, even through sidespace, and so were of limited value against smaller raiders that could run away. What’s more, dreadnoughts and superdreadnoughts were needed on the front lines where two empires fought, playing their chess games of threatening and shielding important systems. Few could be spared for the frontier.
Two battlecruisers and four heavy cruisers accompanied the single dreadnought, forming the core of the opposition. A hodgepodge of more than thirty lesser units, from light cruisers down to corvettes, accompanied them.
Opposing them, Straker had his original four battlecruisers, plus two more that had been captured. Alongside them cruised four heavy cruisers and five light cruisers.
Normally the light cruisers were detached for harassment or covering duties, sometimes singly or sometimes by squadron. They were termed “light” because they sported far less armor than heavy cruisers, making them faster while carrying nearly equal weaponry. They were therefore fragile when standing up to capital-grade fire, but Engels had insisted on keeping them as ships of the line for a more concentrated capital core.
So at first glance, the Liberation fleet looked to have a comfortable edge in capital ships. They also boasted more than sixty escort units of destroyers and smaller. Many had been taken as they liberated the last eight star systems by surprise. Some warships had been tricked, some seized by locals, and some had been compelled to surrend
er to superior forces.
None chose to go down fighting. To Straker, that was proof of the rottenness of the Mutuality: that nobody was willing to die for their “motherland.” That, at least, proved the Hundred Worlds superior.
Fortunately, the Liberation fleet wouldn’t have to fight the planetary orbitals—at least, not yet. Engels’ orders were already slowing and turning her forces, giving the enemy the choice of sortieing away from their fixed defenses, or letting their opponents cruise on by.
But the Mutuality task force obviously intended to bring the raiders to battle. If they let them go, they had no way of knowing where Straker would strike next.
The Liberation transports were curving under heavy sideways acceleration so that they would continue past and back out to sidespace, while the fleets fought. Straker’s warships interposed themselves, slowing to ensure they were able to screen their auxiliaries.
At some point, Straker’s warships would have to aim their noses directly toward the enemy, which meant no more running, and only limited maneuvering. As each side had something to defend, even a man with a lack of naval warfare experience could see a slugfest was about to ensue.
“What do our tactics look like?” Straker asked Engels. “Give me a broad outline.”
Engels stepped over to the holo-table, placing one hand on it to activate a duplicate sim. “I was planning on keeping things simple and conventional, since we have the edge in numbers.” She glanced at Straker as if for approval.
Straker nodded. “The side with the advantage wants to minimize surprises and volatility, and cruise to a victory. The side that’s behind is the one that has to try something risky.”
“Yes. But this strategy presupposes our forces are solid, and will not break, run, or fail to follow orders. That’s a big ‘if.’”
Surprised, Straker took a deep breath. “You think our fleet will fall apart?”
“I think that despite my best efforts to drill and integrate our crews, we’re not truly a disciplined fleet. We’re a loose collection of individuals who haven’t yet fought a battle together, from different cultures, different planets, even different species. Some will hold the line. Some will attack against orders. Some will fail to attack when ordered. Some will run.”