Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  Zom realized he should have been more observant, but then dismissed the matter. Runners hardly mattered in a battle as complex as this. He could ignore them.

  Now in a high gee station he trusted, Admiral Zom studied the map in front of him. He fell toward the planet, and closed on the Longknife woman. She pushed against the planet's gravity and built up her velocity as the two of them closed inescapably.

  He estimated an hour before they came in range. He hunched over his board and waited to see if anything would happen in that time.

  Admiral Kris Longknife was not surprised when the rebel commander slowed his fleet to 1.5 gees. After the day they'd had, she imagined all of them needed a break.

  Kris also wasn't surprised when he chose to go to Condition Charlie. Again, he'd put his crews through a brutal approach. The question was, should she do anything to mess with him.

  Her fleet was also at Condition Charlie. Her Iteeche crews were enjoying a mere 2.25 times their normal weight. For her Human crews it was slightly less than two gees.

  "Kris, you were wondering what the rebel admiral was doing a while back."

  "Yeah. He seemed to be messing around somewhere aft."

  "I have a picture now. It appears that his ships have four, six, or eight longboats attached just forward of the rocket motors."

  "He's trying to jack up his maneuvering."

  "It looks like that, Kris," Nelly said.

  Kris eyed the picture that Nelly projected onto her screen. Yep, those sure looked like longboats with their bows up against the stern, ready to push the ship around harder as it maneuvered.

  It was time to give him a surprise.

  "Nelly, get me Admiral Tong again."

  "Yes, Admiral," came back in a moment.

  "How do you think our crews would take to me cutting back on their rest and relaxing time?"

  "What do you have in mind, My Admiral?"

  So, Kris told him.

  The Iteeche coughed up a laugh.

  "We’d need to go to full battle stations and Condition Zed, but we'll be ready for action as soon as we've got him in range."

  "Give the order, Admiral. I think our crews are tired of the wait. Let's get this battle going."

  "Aye, aye, My Admiral," and he closed down the call.

  Less than thirty seconds later, the Princess Royal announced. "Battle Stations, Battle Stations. The ship will go to Condition Zed in five minutes. The ship will put on 3.5 gees Iteeche, 3.0 gees Human, in five minutes." The message repeated itself with the time shortening with each repetition.

  By the time the Princess Royal began to shrink itself and take on three gees, Kris was ready for it.

  Her inner ear did the little flip it did when the ship changed directions. From a blended vector, 2.0 gees down and 1.5 gees away, her flag jacked up its acceleration to nearly 3.5 gees, Iteeche. Most of it was directed down to slow the fleet’s course toward the target planet. That also jacked up the rate of closure between the two fleets.

  Kris's fleet flipped as one. Now their 1.5 gees were directed right at the rebel fleet. Suddenly their 1.5 gee acceleration chasing after Kris's fleet was met with her likewise accelerating at 1.5 gees directly at him.

  Kris waited to see how long it would take the rebel admiral to respond to her gambit. He wouldn't have a lot of time. The rate of closure was fast and getting faster.

  Meanwhile, all around Kris, the Princess Royal prepared for war. Again, the ship shrank to Condition Zed. Again, the honeycomb under the crystal armor filled with cooling reaction mass.

  Kris smiled. Someone had forgotten who he was fighting. That was never good.

  74

  Admiral Zom was enjoying the blessed feeling of only half again his weight. A strong mess hand was pushing a large container of soup around the bridge. He stopped at each station, filled a drinking bottle with steaming soup and handed it off to the crewman or officer, then went on to the next.

  Admiral Zom had just taking his first sip of the soup. It was too hot to drink; he would have to let it cool.

  "Admiral, something is happening. The range to the Longknife Human's fleet is drastically changing," Number One officer said.

  "I don't see it on my board," Zom snapped.

  "It is just starting to change," he insisted.

  Zom eyed his board as the enemy fleet's vector began to change directions and lengthen. "Cold and bleak abyss, the woman has changed her mind. Number One, send to fleet. Go to Condition Zed immediately. Stand by to open fire."

  He paused for a moment. He had more orders to give, but it would not help the fleet if he befuddled his captains with too many orders, too fast.

  Around him, the flag bridge began to shrink. The mess hand retreated away from the closing walls; his soup wagon skated away from his hands.

  "Get that soup away from my battle board!" the admiral shouted as the container of steaming soup bore down on his high gee station.

  The Sailor struggled to pull the wagon back toward the rear of the bridge where the Marine guards and the runners huddled, waiting for orders. There was no extra room, and the wagon toppled over. The soup container spilt hot soup all over the deck and on a pair of runners. Their screams added to the cacophony of Condition Zed.

  With the smell of vegetable soup in his beak, Admiral Zom turned his attention back to the rapidly developing battle. He watched vectors of the two fleets draw closer.

  "Execute," he ordered.

  "Sir, I issued the last order as an order. It is already being executed.”

  "Of course it is," Zom reminded himself. The skipper of his flag ship had gone to Condition Zed without any announcement.

  He took two deep breaths. That Longknife woman had flustered him. He could not let that happen again.

  She clearly had taken the initiative. Did he want to accept battle now? Her deceleration was not only slowing her course toward the distant planet, but also sending her hurtling toward his ships as they fell toward it with no braking.

  Laterally, she now closed with him as he raced toward her. The rate of closure was so high that they'd be in range of each other in only a matter of minutes.

  "Do we change our course, Admiral?" Number One asked.

  "No. I like this course and speed," Admiral Zom said. "Let her charge us. With any luck, her inertia will carry her deep within our laser range before she can do anything about it."

  "Very well, Admiral."

  "Now, Number One, let us see what we can do to win this battle. Order all ships to rotate their outer hulls at twenty revolutions per minute. Prepare to execute Dodging Plan 3 on my order."

  "It will be done, My Admiral," and the staff officer began issuing orders.

  Zom studied his board. Would the Longknife woman make the mistake of charging right into his range? All reports said she insisted on fighting at long range where she could dodge in and out of range at her own choosing. How were her ships and crew taking to 3.5 gees? How long could they bear it?

  The reports were that the Human high gee stations were very good and that the Iteeche in her fleet enjoyed better couches than his crew. Zom found that hard to believe, although he no longer had the boundless confidence in his station after seeing water couches sprout leaks and machinery fail.

  There were no reports of any manufacturing concern in the false Emperor's area who had delivered high gee couches to her fleet. No one wanted to say it, but it seemed likely that the Humans were again making things out of their magic metal. That puzzled Zom. He looked at the bulkheads of the flag bridge. They were hard as any stone wall. Harder. How could something this hard be a cushion?

  Once again, Zom wished that the Iteeche programmers had asked more questions before expelling the Human ship spinners and programmers.

  The Iteeche admiral shook his head. Now was no time to consider past mistakes. He had to avoid making any new ones.

  It was good that he returned his attention back to the battle board. The Longknife woman was making her move, and it
was the one he had hoped he would not see.

  The vector of the enemy fleet was changing again. Now she was veering away from him, slowing down her approach. It was a good move, just not one he wanted to see. Now their rate of closure slowed; it was still a rush, just not a mad rush.

  Admiral Zom ordered his battle board to track the range and rate of closure in the space between the two forces. He probably should have done that sooner, but, not being one of those officers who enjoyed war gaming against others, he wasn't that sharp about using the board. It was hard to find anyone to war game with that was of his station. It would be embarrassing to lose against an officer of a lower rank, so they would likely let him win. At least, he had won every time he war gamed with officers of only a single name.

  One had to maintain one's status.

  By the time to two fleets had closed to 400,000 kilometers, it was clear that the enemy would be pulling in range first of the much weakened vanguards. Zom did not want them put to the torch again.

  He did, however, have his own idea of how he wanted to join battle with the Human admiral.

  "Number One, order the remnants of the vanguards to the rear. Let's see how she likes facing all five of our middle wings. Also, order the two rear guard wings to come up and form a line directly behind the main body. I want both of them, along with what's left of the vanguard, to tuck themselves right in behind the main body. That way, we will bring five wings to bear on her rear guard. Let's see how she likes that."

  "My Admiral, may I point out that five wings may be too wide? Many of the ships in the top and bottom-most wings might not be in range."

  "Your suggestion?"

  "Have the top-most center wing fall back to be included in the second wave of ships. We should charge them with four wings aimed directly at their rear guard, and three more, plus the remnants of the vanguard right behind them. If she tries to dance in and out of range, let her wing of twelve hundred dance in front of our wings of more than seventeen hundred."

  "Very good idea, Number One. Make it so."

  The staff officer began issuing orders. As Zom watched, the juggling of wings began. The two rear guards came up to form a line behind the main battle line main body. The topmost wing fell back to fall in line beside the rear guard. The much attuited vanguards fell in behind the main line.

  The five forward wings now formed a T with a much shorter line behind them.

  Almost as an afterthought, the four blocks of gunboats formed two above and two below the four leading wings of battlecruisers. If they got a chance, their admirals were ordered to charge in and do as much damage as they could.

  Beyond that, Zom would ignore them. It was his battlecruisers that would decide this battle.

  Zom remembered his ancient history. Back before the days of sharp steel, the Iteeche armies had fought with long bronze-tipped spears and shields made of wood and animal hides. Then, they had fought shoulder-to-shoulder as they slammed into each other. The formation was called a phalanx.

  He had formed his fleet into a phalanx, four wide and two deep.

  Zom waited to see how the Human would react to this. Did they even know what a phalanx was? Had Humans ever dared to face cold, sharp bronze spearpoints?

  The Iteeche admiral looked upon what he had done and found it good. He doubted the Longknife woman did.

  Admiral Kris Longknife watched with fascination as the rebel Iteeche admiral reformed his fleet into a phalanx. She hadn't expected something that creative from one of the hide-bound clan lordlings. He'd certainly waited until the last minute to pop this surprise on her.

  It was a good battle array for what they faced. In effect, he would cross her T-shape like wet Navy admirals had dreamed of doing since the age of sailing ships.

  The rebel ships were having some trouble following their orders. Unfortunately for Kris, the four wings that were likely to come into range first didn't have to make any changes. They stayed rock solid as the range closed.

  "It looks like we're dealing with a maverick," Jack observed.

  "One smart move out of the ordinary does not make a maverick," Kris said, thinking hard on her response.

  "Nelly, Admiral Tong."

  "Yes, My Admiral."

  "What do you make of this?" she asked.

  "He's forming a phalanx," the Iteeche admiral said.

  "Is that part of your military history?" she asked.

  "Very much, although we are talking over five thousand years in our past. Maybe all the way back to before the first Emperor."

  "Very good. I like someone who knows his history. Admiral, please order the rear guard to move to alongside the lower wing. Have the vanguard come in line above the top wing. No reason why we can't meet him, phalanx to phalanx."

  "You want to concentrate all five of our wings against his leading four?"

  "Yes. Nelly, what kind of odds will that give us?"

  "We have six thousand battlecruisers all told. Four of their wings have about seven thousand."

  "I don't think he's going to be happy with those odds," Jack said. "I sure wouldn't be."

  "Admiral Tong, reorganize the fleet and see how he reacts."

  "To hear is to obey, My Admiral," and Tong cut the comm to give orders.

  A few moments later, the forward and aft wings began to maneuver to lengthen the line formed by the main body and the top and bottom wings. The wing movements were sloppier than Kris wanted, but considering how long her fleet had been drilling and that this was not a drill they had practiced, it looked good enough.

  Even before the maneuver was complete, the rebel admiral had realized the mistake he'd made. While depth might allow him to bring up fresh ships when she decimated a wing, it just meant that Kris could knock them out in order, one after the other.

  The four rear rebel wings had not yet finished settling into place and smoothing out problems before they got new orders. The topmost wing now reversed course and headed back where it had come from. The aft rearguard was not yet in place before it also was ordered to lengthen the line.

  However, there was a problem with that. The much-battered vanguards were between the rear wing and bottom of the phalanx. It had to accelerate itself away from the line, turn, then turn again and hurry to catch up with its place in line.

  With each turn, that wing lost ships as they wondered off, fell out of ranks and, on occasion, collided with each other. No ships exploded, but several got seriously dinged.

  The Human admiral grinned. Dented hulls would have a hard time putting revolutions on their outer hull. Kris watched to see how the rebel admiral responded to this.

  Kris would have ordered the damaged ship out of the battle array. There was little reason to take a doomed ship into battle.

  Unfortunately for the rebel skippers, their orders were to get back in line and follow their squadron commanders. Kris shook her head; someone was desperate.

  Her fleet was now in a line, five wings long. The rebel fleet was five long and struggling to add a sixth. However, her wings were thinner than his. That offered her an idea.

  However, time ran out.

  The rangefinder on Kris's board showed they were coming up on the maximum range of the 24-inch lasers. It was time to go to work.

  "Comm, order all ships to Evasion Plan 4. Set course at thirty degrees off enemy base course, outward bound. Admiral Tong, assign enemy targets by wings of Iteeche ships, fire by divisions. Human ships, fire by sections of two. Admiral Tong select whether your ships fire by division or sections. Fire as the enemy fleet comes into range."

  She was giving up the option of firing one huge salvo, but she was also arranging it so her ships would not all be turning their sterns toward the enemy fleet at the same time.

  Apparently, Admiral Tong saw the advantage of his fleet taking the first salvo on their bows. He swung his ships’ bows around, cut acceleration to one gee, and fired each wing as it came in range of its opposite number.

  So it was that 224 Human batt
lecruisers reached out at extreme range. They aimed at 112 radically maneuvering rebel ships. Over 50 of them ceased to exist. Some vanished in huge explosions. Others went out with more class, shedding parts of their hull, or containing an explosion forward that left the ship missing its bow.

  Nearly 1,500 divisions of loyal Iteeche battlecruisers reached out for their rebel opposite, per Kris's order. Each division leader had assigned a quadrant around the rebel ship to one of his own. Some fired high and to the right or left. The other two fired low and covered those two quadrants. The rebel ships were more lively this time in their evasion, but the box widened up to assure that they didn't dodge out of their role as a target.

  Over 400 of the warships across from them vanished. Others took off on wild courses when their rocket motors were damaged. Still, others blew out this or that part of the hull and began to cartwheel or roll through space.

  The opposite side of the battlefield was not inactive. Eleven hundred rebel squadrons opened up with all twelve of the 24-inch lasers in the bows of eight battlecruisers. The squadron commanders, however, only assigned a single target. They did not make any effort to guide the fire of their subordinate ships.

  Each battlecruiser followed its own firing solution and fired where it expected the jitterbugging battlecruiser to be. Few got lucky. Even fewer actually guessed where their target might be. Only 53 of Kris's ships suffered major damage.

  With all forward batteries exhausted, both fleets flipped ship and fired their aft eight 24-inch lasers. Some aimed at new targets. Others chose to fire again at a ship they may or may not have damage.

  By the time the two fleets had emptied both fore and aft batteries, the rebels were down 900 nine hundred ships and the Emperor's forces were missing 90.

  Kris raised her eyebrows at the rate of exchange. With all the advantages her ships had in more accurate lasers, faster fire control and better high gee stations that allowed wilder jinking, she was not surprised.

  With her fleet back on the same base course at 1.5 gees accelerating to keep herself steady off the enemy fleet's planet-ward flank, she waited to see what her opponent’s next move would be.