by Eric Thomson
“Already written for you. I know your style so it’ll simply be a matter of integrating my part with the overall narrative.” He gestured at the inner door. “Shall we?”
Dunmoore fell into step beside Holt.
“Thank you, Zeke, but I was actually hoping for useful work.”
“Never fear. Plenty is waiting for you. Such as looking at the task force’s overall ammo situation and deciding whether to redistribute some of it, leave things as they are, or head for the nearest starbase and replenish.”
“I would rather we stayed out a little longer. What’s your ammo state?”
“Enough for at least one saturation strike against a FOB with a convoy attack thrown in. The rest of Group Hoqa have somewhere between one third and a half of their initial loads left.”
The door to Dunmoore’s quarters opened at their approach.
“The same as Group Miqa. We’ll stay out. Perhaps hang around one of the major star systems and see if we can track a convoy to a forward operating base. But first, we’ll take a few days and stay here where the Shrehari won’t stumble over us and give our ships a good once over. Extended jumps will degrade more than just the drives.”
“That was my next recommendation. Renny has been grumbling for days about the strain we’ve put on the old girl. He’ll be happy when he hears you’re giving him the time he needs to baby her.”
“And I need to hold a general after-action review with my captains. I just realized I can’t complete my report to HQ until that’s done.”
“See.” Holt grinned at her. “There’s plenty of work for the next few days. Should we invite the captains to shuttle over and take part in person, followed by supper in the wardroom?”
She shook her head. “Since we’re still in enemy territory, I’d rather not take them out of their ships, even if the chances of a Shrehari formation finding us in interstellar space are minuscule. After giving us a clean run at the boneheads’ home system, Fate might use her fickle finger and remind us we are but mortal by dropping an assault division out of hyperspace within sensor range of this area. Or if they didn’t pursue, another bunch alerted by their high command to be on the lookout for underhanded human raiders.”
“Feeling unlucky?”
“No. Just overly lucky for far too long.” She sat behind her desk and sighed. “It’s nice to be home.”
“And it’s good to have you back.” He nodded at the urn on the sideboard. “Shall I pour you a cup?”
“Please. Gregor prefers tea and Jan Sobieski’s wardroom, though otherwise pleasant, only serves indifferent coffee. Take one yourself and sit if you can spare a bit of time.”
“A bit and more. Emma is a superb first officer. I don’t even notice I’m short a second officer. It makes me wonder why the position even exists.”
“Because not every first officer has her breadth of experience and her work ethic.”
“I know. And I also realize I’m fortunate to have her.” Holt handed Dunmoore a mug decorated with Iolanthe’s Furious Faerie insignia and dropped into the chair across from her. “What effect do you think our raid will end up having, beyond forcing them to replace two extensive refueling constellations?”
Dunmoore shrugged.
“Probably less than what Admiral Xi hoped for when he took my idea to his boss. But if it riles them up enough to make mistakes we can exploit, then it’ll have been worthwhile, especially since we came back with barely a scratch.”
“The element of surprise will work wonders every single time.” He took a sip. “If we’re really lucky, they’ll pull starships off combat patrols to reinforce vital areas across the empire in case we broaden our raids. That should help us take the initiative.”
“We already took the initiative some time ago. It just wasn’t a big enough shift to be noticeable until recently. While we were commerce raiding under Admiral Petras, our conventional navy colleagues struck at the occupied star systems in force for the first time, remember.”
“True. Sad to think we might never find out how our raid on Miqa and Hoqa affected the enemy other than by inference.”
“Though it’ll cheer our side up when and if Fleet HQ publicizes the raid.”
“If? You mean there’s a possibility they’ll keep it a secret?” Holt asked in an incredulous tone. “The most daring operation this war has seen, and they’ll sit on the news of its complete and utter success?”
“Who knows? SOCOM has strange quirks.”
“And even stranger people. Present company included. Speaking of which, since HQ is waiting with bated breath on your report and we’re a little too far from the nearest subspace array, will you use one of the scouts or Skua to get within range and send it? If we empty her while we’re here, she can head for Starbase 32, send your report along the way, stock up again and rejoin us. Or stay there and wait for us to come in when we’re running low.”
Dunmoore thought about the suggestion for a moment.
“I’ll send Skua. But she’ll stay at Starbase 32. We won’t know where we’ll be by the middle of next week, and I’d rather not play Marco Polo over the subspace channels in case the enemy picks up a stray transmission and figures someone’s plotting mischief in their backyard. Especially now that they’ll be extra paranoid. Besides, I never quite figured why we needed a supply ship permanently attached to the task force, other than as a space-faring warehouse. And that’s wasteful considering we’re not bound to a permanent patrol route and can come in without asking HQ whenever we run low on ammo or other consumables.”
“One of Lena’s bright ideas, no doubt. Mind you, if you’re ever in the mood to bait the enemy, Skua will make a perfectly tempting target.”
“Pass. I prefer pursuing my victims rather than enticing them into my parlor.”
Holt gave her an amused look.
“An interesting choice of words.”
“I’m a little stir crazy after all that time trying to avoid bothering Gregor and his crew.”
“Don’t try that here. We are your flagship, and being bothered by you is part of the job. I certainly don’t want you becoming even crazier. Think of how someone such as Thorin will react if you use words like enticing within earshot. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, and then I’ll have a disciplinary issue on my hands.”
Dunmoore made a face.
“True. Our Mister Sirico does forget himself at times, especially when off-color jokes are involved.”
“I thought he watched himself around you.”
“Every so often, when I’m in the gym quietly doing my thing while Tatiana and her bunch are exercising, he’ll come in and train with them. When he’s hanging around soldiers in an informal setting, Thorin can become rather ribald. Even Tatiana surprises me sometimes.”
Holt’s eyebrows shot up.
“Tatiana? The things I learn now that I’m Iolanthe’s captain.”
“Everyone watched their language around you back then because spacers know you never annoy a first officer and the soldiers learned quickly from them.”
“But captains are okay?”
“Didn’t you enjoy the usual round of banter in the CIC while waiting for the show to begin?”
“Sure. But nothing that would make me take someone aside for counseling, though Thorin does sometimes exaggerate his bloodthirsty pirate act.”
“That’s what a captain gets. For the real deal, you need to make folks forget you’re around, and the gym is pretty much the only place aboard unless you’re deliberately eavesdropping, which isn’t a good idea.” Dunmoore drained her cup and glanced at the old clock with the gaunt knight’s silhouette on its face. “Real coffee is such a pleasure when you’ve not tasted any for a long time. How about we call the captains together for a virtual after-action review in two hours? Then I can complete my mission report and prepare it for Skua once her holds are empty.”
“Two hours it is, Commodore.” Holt climbed to his feet. “I’ll make sure they present their ammo and c
ritical stores status so we can discuss who gets what from Skua.”
“Excellent. Thank you for shouldering some of the flag captain duties.”
“As always, it’s my pleasure, sir. But you should know there is self-interest involved.”
“Oh?”
“A close and personal look at the inner workings of a task force will stand me in good stead someday. Or at least I hope so.”
“I’m sure it will.”
**
“So, Commodore, did you draft the Encyclopedia Galactica entry for our historic raid on the Shrehari home system?” Commander Farren Vento, or rather his hologram asked the moment Dunmoore entered Iolanthe’s conference room.
“No. Can’t do that until we discuss what happened. Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you and your crews survived that epically long jump without suffering hyperspace jitters and your ships don’t show excess wear and tear on the drives.” When no one spoke up, she said, “Good, because we won’t return to base right away. I gather from your reports everyone has still at least one-third of the initial ammo load left. That being the case, I’ll run one more wolf pack operation while the enemy is still having conniptions at us desecrating the heart of their empire.”
None of them seemed taken aback by her announcement.
“What we’ll do is empty Skua’s holds, after which I will send her back to Starbase 32. Along the way, she can ping a subspace array and send my report to SOCOM HQ.”
Dunmoore turned her gaze on Lieutenant Jubinville, the transport’s captain and, like Emma Cullop, a merchant spacer serving in the navy for the duration.
“You’ll stay there and wait for us. With any luck, we’ll find suitable prey, give them a bit of Luckner love with the rest of our ammunition, and then join you. Two weeks if we’re lucky. No more than a month, I’d wager.”
Jubinville nodded once.
“Understood, sir.”
“Now, let’s talk about the raid. Captain Holt, would you please start with Group Hoqa.”
“Certainly, sir.”
An hour later, Dunmoore had what she needed. Task Force Luckner’s captains were proud of their accomplishments and eager to say so, conscious that mention of their names and the names of their ships in the commodore’s mission report might mean a lot when the next round of promotion boards sat.
She also sensed a sort of giddiness, as if surviving a stab at the enemy’s heart made them, if not invulnerable, then capable of surviving commerce raiding’s lesser risks.
“Thank you for your candor.” Dunmoore met each of her captain’s holographic eyes in turn. “What we accomplished might not appear to be much in the grand scheme of things, but I’m sure we made a difference. The wolf pack hunts again in forty-eight hours. If you won’t be ready by them, please let me know soonest.”
— Thirty-Nine —
“You’d think they would be more circumspect these days,” Holt remarked as he and Dunmoore watched video transmitted over an encrypted subspace channel by one of Rooikat’s FTL drones. It showed a Shrehari convoy leaving Toksang, one of the sector’s major hubs.
Since she planned on only one quick wolf pack operation before heading back to base, Dunmoore figured the risk of the Shrehari picking up a drone’s weak subspace signal was minimal. But it would allow her to position ships more effectively along the heliopause and intercept a target.
“How would you change things if you figured human commerce raiders were watching?” Dunmoore asked.
“Randomly send individual ships to various points within the system and reform the convoy at a predetermined spot instead of jumping together on a measurable vector from Toksang’s hyperlimit to the heliopause. We wouldn’t know where to look. Those fifteen ships, if they did what I just proposed, would leave us with at best a one in fifteen chance of figuring out a given vector. By the time we sorted ourselves out, they’d be away on an interstellar jump.”
She nodded with approval.
“A good thing the Shrehari aren’t innovators. At least not in the tactical realm.”
“They jumped,” Chief Yens said. “I’ll figure out their probably course in a moment.”
“Signals, tell Rooikat she can recover her drone.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Rooikat to recover her drone.”
The holographic tactical projection lit up with a representation of the Toksang system. An ever-widening red line connected the Shrehari colony with a spherical blob at the system’s heliopause while a forlorn blue icon a quarter of the way around the heliosphere represented Task Force Luckner.
“They’ll emerge somewhere within that area.”
“Magnify.” She stood and walked over to the projection, studying it as she decided how her ships would be best deployed, and how long it would take. After a few minutes, Dunmoore glanced at Sirico.
“Ready to copy deployment orders, Thorin?”
“Go ahead, sir.”
Dunmoore touched the blob’s periphery eight times as she called out ship names until eight blue icons covered the side facing interstellar space. She examined the result for a while longer before nodding.
“That should do. Send the deployment plot. They can leave as soon as they’re ready.”
Less than ten minutes later, Iolanthe’s jump klaxon sounded its warning. Shortly after that, Dunmoore’s stomach twisted as they transitioned to hyperspace.
**
“Bridge to the commodore.”
Dunmoore put her reader on the desk. It was too early for the convoy’s appearance, Task Force Luckner was under radio silence as per standard operating procedure, and she took no part in the ship’s routine.
“Dunmoore.”
“Lieutenant Kremm, sir. I have the watch. We received an encrypted subspace message eyes only for the flag officer commanding Task Force Luckner. I’m piping it to your quarters.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“How did it reach us here?”
“Via aviso. Skua told HQ approximately where we were operating. The aviso jumped into our general area and began broadcasting on the emergency channel in the hopes of our catching its message. I acknowledged, but they’re waiting for your confirmation and would rather not hang around longer than necessary.”
A frown creased Dunmoore’s forehead. What could be significant enough to risk one of the Fleet’s lightly armed courier starships, used to carry data which shouldn’t travel over the subspace net along with small, valuable cargo items, or people for whom speed was more important than comfort? The message must be incredibly urgent if the aviso was under orders to transmit continuously inside enemy space.
“Thank you, Theo.”
“Bridge, out.”
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and cocked an eyebrow. Encrypted, always, especially if transmitting where the enemy could intercept. For her eyes only? That was unusual.
Her desktop chimed softly, announcing the message’s arrival. She called it up and let the ship’s computer match her biometrics to her authorization level as the flag officer commanding Task Force Luckner. The encryption faded away in a matter of seconds, leaving her with text in plan Anglic.
She read the message three times before its import finally sank in. Hands trembling with unexpected emotion, Dunmoore stood and walked over to the coffee urn for a mug, wishing she could spike it with something a little stronger. She took a few calming sips, then returned to her desk and read the message a fourth time. It still said the same thing.
Dunmoore stroked the intercom.
“Flag to the CIC.”
“Sirico here, sir. What can I do for you?”
“All ships will join Iolanthe at our current location. They will not, I repeat, not engage in any hostile act from the moment they receive this order. I’m canceling the planned wolf pack operation against the enemy convoy.”
Deep silence greeted her words. Then, “Does that mean?”
“Apparently so. I will speak with Captain Holt at once and the rest of the
task force captains as they arrive. Captain Holt will surely gather his department heads when we finish.”
“I’ll let him know, sir. Anything else?”
“Negative. Dunmoore, out.”
She closed her eyes with a deep sigh. The door chime yanked her back to the present only a minute or two later.
“Enter.”
Holt, anticipation writ large on his face, burst through the door.
“Thorin said you just issued a most peculiar order and canceled the wolf pack.”
She pointed at the chair across from her.
“Sit. This is news you don’t want to hear standing.” When he’d obeyed, she said, “It’s over. This damned war is over. The Shrehari asked for an immediate armistice. Earth granted it.”
A low whistle escaped Holt’s lips.
“Unbelievable.”
“But true.” She glanced at the message. “Commonwealth Armed Services units will cease hostilities against the Shrehari Empire immediately. Those operating inside the prewar imperial sphere will withdraw to our current sphere and wait for instructions. If a Shrehari unit offers battle, assume they did not yet receive word of the armistice and do your best to disengage without causing further loss of life.”
“Does HQ say why they threw in the towel?”
“Apparently, there’s been a coup d’état. Members of what passes for a legislature in their political system overthrew the governing council that triggered the war. This legislature put forward a kho’sahra who will rule on the emperor’s behalf. I understand it’s a sort of military dictator, akin to feudal Japan’s shoguns. Three days ago, a Shrehari ship showed up in the Scandia system and surrendered so the envoy it carried could hand over the kho’sahra’s message.”
“What?” Laughter rumbled up Holt’s throat. “The first bonehead ship to surrender since the beginning of the war and it’s the one carrying the entire empire’s surrender? Karma on a cosmic level.”
“Oh, it gets better. The Shrehari are pulling their ships back inside the empire’s prewar sphere and promise they would evacuate the occupied star systems as quickly as possible once the armistice is in place. They wish to negotiate a peace treaty once our respective forces have disengaged.”