by Steve White
Mretlak left the data crystal on the edge of Lentsul’s desk. “You no doubt recall the briefing we received last week concerning the new robot-fighter designs that make up two-thirds of what Commodore Wethermere and Least Fang Kiiraathra’ostakjo called the Kaituni ‘strike triads.’ Well, automated sensor and communications recordings made by Small Claw Rrurr’rao’s Tleikhu have given us somewhat greater insight into precisely how the robotic parts of each strike triad are controlled. Using that information, we may discover a means to thwart their new fighter tactics. Now, follow soon after me: we are leaving presently.”
Lentsul tried not to let his excitement show in his rigid clusters or his (eager, vindicated) selnarm. “This will be a gratifying challenge.”
“Commodore Wethermere and I thought it might be.” Mretlak sent (fellowship, congratulations) along with a casual footnote: “You no doubt see the significance: that it was a human who suggested you for—and wished to entrust you with—this crucial task.” Mretlak left before Lentsul could answer.
Lentsul reflected that, given his deeply conflicted feelings on that matter, it had been singularly wise for Mretlak to have left as soon as he did: a long wait for a change in Lentsul’s attitudes toward humans was not in either of their best interests.
*
From the large gallery viewport in the admiral’s private conference room aboard the supermonitor RFNS Krishmahnta, Ossian Wethermere overlooked the warp point they had created, and could see distant ships winking into existence with the regularity of silver drops jetting out of an invisible cosmic faucet.
A question—voiced in a brusque alto—roused him from his reverie. “Enjoying the view…‘Senior’ Commodore?”
Wethermere turned with a smile and a salute, which Admiral Miharu Yoshikuni waved away. “Absolutely enthralled by it, Admiral,” Ossian replied. And it was a perfectly true answer: each of those luminescent specks was yet another of the Bellerophon fleet’s staggering array of capital ships pouring through to join the rest. Although if Yoshikuni had put any more sardonic emphasis upon the “Senior” qualifier of his “Commodore” title, Ossian suspected that Small Claw Rrurr’rao might take special note. And, in so doing, come to realize that he had, in fact, been conned into believing Wethermere to be his marginally superior officer.
“Well,” concluded Yoshikuni, “you’ll have the pleasure of watching the fleet come in for at least another three hours. Probably four, if you want to stay and watch all the auxiliaries.”
Admiral Narrok, the Arduan admiral who had both protected human civilians from the depredations of Tangri raiders in the last war, and had brought some semblance of sanity to the xenocidal flag ranks in the final weeks of the conflict, emerged from the well-mingled command staffs of both the Bellerophon fleet and the flotilla that had made their transit possible. The ever-composed Destoshaz commander approached Wethermere with his clusters raised in formal greeting. “It is good to see you again, Commodore. Particularly under circumstances which put our fleets on the same, rather than opposing, sides.”
Wethermere saluted and nodded. “I agree, sir. I am—of all the humans in this room—particularly glad you are on our side, now.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“Because your ships damn near killed me at the battle of BR-02, seven years ago.”
Admiral Yoshikuni coughed significantly. “You’re not the only one here who can make that claim, Commodore.”
Wethermere realized he must have blushed, because Yoshikuni smiled as he added, “Apologies, Admiral. I—well, I forgot that you had a ship shot out from under you, as well.”
“Yes…well, we’ll raise a glass to remember old comrades when our meeting is over. This ship is, after all, the right place to do it.”
Wethermere nodded somberly, looked at the hull as if it contained the spirit of the commander whose name it bore. “Admiral Krishmahnta would wish she was here.”
Kiiraathra’ostakjo bobbed his head briefly. “She was a fine admiral under whom to serve. But I suspect, were she here, she would rebuke us for dwelling upon past events rather than present challenges.”
“True enough,” Yoshikuni said, the command-grade brusqueness back in her voice. “Grab a seat, everyone. I don’t believe in place-cards or formalities. Least Fang, Commodore, I already have dossiers on most of your team, thanks to the intelligence passed along by Councilor Ankaht to Tefnut ha sheri. Who sends his best wishes—and his frustration, Madame Councilor.”
Ankaht’s skin seemed to fluctuate slightly in color: a sign of perplexity, Wethermere recalled. Her vocoder’s tone confirmed that: “Er…the Senior Councilor is ‘frustrated,’ Admiral Yoshikuni?”
“Absolutely. Tefnut ha sheri charged me to say that he holds you personally responsible that he must continue on in his current incarnation, given all the trouble you’ve stirred up.” The admiral’s smile dimmed a bit. “Frankly, he’s proven an extremely adept replacement for Senior Councillor Amunherh’peshef, as well as being the new holodah’kri’at.”
“The new what?” rumbled Rrurr’rao, whose English had improved markedly over the weeks.
“High Priest,” translated Jennifer Pietchkov. “He’ll make an excellent one, I suspect.”
“Indeed: he will,” Ankaht agreed—but both Narrok and Mretlak glanced at her, confirming the extragravity Wethermere had thought he perceived in her tone. And he could well guess why: the Arduan dismay over the theological implications of the speciate regression evident in the later Dispersates was growing. Of all the First Dispersate, Tefnut ha sheri had the sufficient age, experience, and gravitas to promote a calm, gradual embrace of those challenges—whatever they might turn out to be.
With everyone seated, Yoshikuni introduced the balance of her staff. “You all know Admiral Narrok, and I apologize if we spooked a few of you by sending his forces through first. But he pointed out that, despite their upgrades, his super-heavy dreadnoughts would be an almost exact match for those of the Kaituni, which—had there been an unexpected threat force here—would have given them pause before attacking. Just the kind of edge we might have needed if things had not gone according to plan.”
“Happily,” Narrok picked up, “Ankaht’s assurances that there would be no opposition were accurate: this deep space warp point, labeled Zheer-Four on the Orion starcharts, has no sign of recent traffic. An excellent choice for activating your end of the warp point generator, Commodore—for I believe it was your recommendation, was it not?”
Wethermere paused, not wanting to agree too readily to praise—but Kiiraathra’ostakjo put his own assertion into the momentary silence: “That is correct, Admiral Narrok. It was more circuitous traveling here, compared to some of the other warp point pathways we could have taken to reach the adjacent Mymzher system and it is Unity Warp Point Three. But Zheer-Four—as well as the prior system on this warp-point spur, Zheer Five—are completely unmonitored, being deep space anomalies that do not connect to anything but each other, and one other stellar system, each. If there was anyplace for your fleet to enter unobserved, this was indeed the most isolated and unvisited warp point to choose.”
“An excellent choice,” Yoshikuni affirmed, with a quick glance down at Wethermere. A glance that lasted a fraction of a second too long, was a little too direct. Not that Ossian minded it: Miharu Yoshikuni was certainly pleasant to look at, even if that extra microsecond of professional attention was perplexing. Or maybe it was not professional attention, but—? No: it’s not possible that she’s interested—
But the admiral was moving on. “I believe most of you either know, or have heard of, Captain Chong.” She gestured to the silent officer sitting cross-armed to her left. “In the last war, Captain Chong took command of the final attack on Punt City. More recently, he was on site when the subrelativistic hammer came down in the New India system. Immediately after getting his report, I promoted and tapped him to coordinate all flight operations among this fleet’s carrier groups. But then we learned of these
‘strike triads’ that overwhelmed the Orions at Valkha. So I’m shifting him to coordinate and work with you, Lentsul: we need the two of you to come up with a way to undermine that Kaituni innovation.”
Lentsul, apparently startled by the direct address from the fleet’s senior admiral, and equally startled by the frank announcement of what was expected of him, waved his tentacles in wordless (compliance, acknowledgement).
But Yoshikuni was no longer looking at him. “Least Fang Kiiraathra’ostakjo, to my knowledge, you are the ranking officer among the Orion formations here, and any others of which we have had word, for that matter. So let me start by thanking you. Firstly, for pooling your resources with ours, and secondly, for allowing us to bring a Rim Federation fleet into both Khanate and PSU territory on such short notice and under such extraordinary circumstances.”
Kiiraathra’ostakjo inclined his head. “It is we who are honored by your presence. It is a bold move, to bring a fleet so far inside of enemy-held territory, without a supply chain or naval depot to support its continuing operations.”
“To say nothing of leaving behind the most powerful ships of your formations,” Mretlak added. “Without devastators or superdevastators to serve as the center of your line, or the core of your formation, you are operating in defiance of your current naval doctrine.”
Yoshikuni tossed a dismissive hand in the direction of the warp point through which her ships continued to pour. “There was no way to bring them. We don’t have any warp point generators to dredge—which is to say, expand the transit capacity—of any of the warp points we’ll be navigating. And sooner or later, we were going to run into a smaller-capacity warp point. So I’d have had to leave all those massive fleet-killers behind, anyway.”
Narrok’s head lifted slightly higher. “In retrospect, there may even be advantages to this limitation. By leaving the devastators and superdevastators behind, we are adding those forces to the forts that protect the warp point whereby forces from Zephrain would attack Bellerophon: the one at Astria. With the present collection of metal and firepower now guarding that warp point, it would take several fleets of Amunsit’s size to break through—and word has it that she was badly attrited by Admiral Watanabe in the Zephrain system. In short, unless the Kaituni turn a great number of their fleets to the task of breaking the defenses at Bellerophon, they will not be able to enter the Arm and wreak havoc upon those well-developed worlds.
“But also, by leaving the largest of the capital ships behind, we increase the maximum speed at which this fleet can move. Both classes of devastators are powerful, but very ponderous, ships. With monitors as our largest capital ships, we may move much more rapidly, and yet our hulls have parity with the largest of our enemy’s. And thanks to the repeating energy torpedo batteries, they shall always enjoy a per-hull firepower advantage.”
“The question,” Yoshikuni mused, “is where to put that firepower to use. Least Fang, I wonder if you could give us a rundown on the most recent disposition of the Kaituni fleets here in the Khanate.”
Kiiraathra’ostakjo stood, studied the unfamiliar data control wand for a moment, activated the holographic screen. The Khanate’s warp link network appeared in green, with several dozen systems also ringed in red or pulsing yellow. In the case of New Valkha, both red and yellow designators surrounded the star-system’s designating disk. “Please understand that our most recent updates are nonetheless already several weeks old. However, the basic conditions within the Khanate itself have been confirmed with a high degree of confidence. The red-ringed warp junctions are systems that the Kaituni fleets have have attacked and neutralized. However, many of the invaders are still using these warp points to shuffle their traffic in and around the Khanate.”
“‘Their traffic’?” Chong echoed uncertainly.
“Yes. In addition to expanding their campaign of crippling Orion worlds, the Kaituni have also sent some small flotillas toward their new force concentration that is moving out from Alowan. We hypothesize that these flotillas are relocating command personnel or other persons or technologies that they wish to have on hand for their upcoming—or possibly, already fought—battle with the PSU fleets gathering in and around the Pesthouse salient.”
Chong nodded his understanding and thanks, and sat back.
Kiiraathra’ostakjo continued. “The stellar disks surrounded by the yellow, pulsing rings are those which were struck by the deluge of subrelativistic objects. To a lesser or greater degree, they are difficult to navigate and in complete social disarray. Or have been completely depopulated by the bombardment.
“Our best intelligence estimates, updated from contacts we encountered over the weeks we spent traveling from the Sreaor system to Zheer-Four, continue to indicate that three Dispersates entered the Khanate either in the New Valkha system or one of those systems directly adjacent. Each Dispersate has remained a discrete unit of maneuver since its arrival. One is currently in what we Orions would consider ‘reaver mode.’ In short, it is striking at both key resources—such as industrial and high-output agricultural worlds—as well as targets of opportunity, simply with the intent to destroy.”
“In effect, they are the action arm of the Kaituni scorched earth policy,” Yoshikuni muttered grimly.
“Correct,” affirmed Kiiraathra’ostakjo. “They also constitute a constant, unpredictable patrol element: to our knowledge, they have already encountered and destroyed two small flotillas of Khanate warships that had been trying to gather enough forces to carry the fight back to the invaders.
“Most of the other two Kaituni fleets have actually begun to follow the path blazed by the Zarzuela fleet. As it turns out, we passed within one warp junction of these units while making our way here.”
“Too close for comfort,” breathed Jennifer.
“It was a daunting prospect,” Kiiraathra-ostakjo agreed. “Our best projections indicate that they are either moving to reinforce Amunsit’s attrited fleet at Zephrain, or may be hoping to press up the warp line from Zephrain to Home Hive Three.”
Yoshikuni stared at the implications of that move. “That would put them on the alternate route toward Pesthouse.”
“Or,” Ossian suggested, “if Admiral Waldeck moves forward from Pesthouse to engage, then it puts these two additional Kaituni fleets in a position to cut off his withdrawal from any battle he might fight further along the warp line to Alowan.”
Narrok’s three eyes squinted at the warp routes. “They are most likely pursuing the strategy Commodore Wethermere has identified. We are descended from creatures that trap prey by surrounding it; it is the preferred method of ensuring kills, of bringing a hunt or battle to a decisive conclusion.”
Yoshikuni frowned. “Would two Dispersate’s warcraft be enough to stop Cyrus Waldeck if he needed to push them out of the way?”
“Possibly not,” Narrok allowed, “but I am not sure that it is necessary to fully block a withdrawal in order to be an effectual impediment. If the seven fleets advancing from Alowan are expecting these two fleets coming from the Khanate to be approaching Admiral Waldeck from the rear, they will know to maintain maximum pressure on any human formation that flees before them. In such a scenario, if Admiral Waldeck is withdrawing, and is also hotly pursued, then the two new fleets in his rear need only ambush and delay him long enough so that his pursuers from Alowan may catch and bring him down.”
Yoshikuni nodded soberly. “You mentioned that the majority of these two Dispersates from New Valkha had moved toward Zephrain. Is there word on any elements that might have split off from one or both of them?”
“Possibly.” Kiiraathra’ostakjo traced his claw from the doubly stricken symbol of New Valkha through an even longer route that ended at Alowan. “From what fragmentary accounts we have, some of those elements may be moving in the direction of Alowan. At a somewhat leisurely pace, I might add.”
“Why?” asked Jennifer Pietchkov abruptly. “Of all the things you’ve pointed out and hypothesized, that does
n’t make any sense.”
Yoshikuni nodded. “I agree: that’s an odd move. If the Kaituni need all their force up front against Waldeck, I would expect those other elements to be burning through the warp links at maximum speed. Or would simply have stayed attached to the other two fleets that went through Zephrain to get behind him.” She leaned back. “It worries me that we don’t have better intel or tracking on those lesser elements. They’ve been sent off on some errand—and I don’t like being in the dark about their objective. So, as we go forward, we need to keep one eye looking ahead, and one looking over our shoulder for them. Units without clear locations on the game board have a nasty way of turning up in the most inopportune places at the most inopportune moments. We can’t afford those kinds of surprises.” She turned toward Wethermere. “And that’s where you come in, Commodore.”
“Me, Admiral?”
“Yes, you, and the recon methods you’ve evolved for your group. I want you to keep conducting those advance recon missions, keep walking point. But now, you’re doing so for this whole fleet. You’ve got a Q-ship, a lightning-fast corvette that I understand you’ve tricked out with some pretty interesting stealth gear, and an Arduan freighter that is very unlikely to be detected as an alien hull or a threat until they get quite close to the OpFor. And, if you need to modify your unit composition by changing your ship mix, you’ve got just the right collection of dilapidated civilian hulls to choose from.” She smiled. “You’ve done a fine job shepherding your flotilla through enemy territory, Commodore. Now I need you to do it for the rest of us.”
Kiiraathra’ostakjo shifted in his seat. “Admiral, in order for me to be able to continue to support the commodore’s operations most effectively, I will need my carrier and Small Claw Rrurr’rao’s to be retrofitted with advanced stealth systems and—”
Yoshikuni shook her head: her black hair spun and shone. “Sorry, Least Fang, that’s the one change I’m making to your current operations. Effective immediately, your warships—even the museum pieces—are being integrated into the Bellerophon Arm Fleet. We’ll effect complete repairs to the Tleikhu and upgrade your older rustbuckets enough to be able to perform some useful picket and security duties. Maybe even detached missions. But it doesn’t make sense to have two carriers lumbering along after the commodore’s innocuous little scout group. And besides, I can’t spare your carriers from our main van. Your ships—and you commanders—are simply too valuable to put out on the chopping block.”