The ships of the Alliance fleet began throwing out many more projectiles, a rain of solid metal falling inward upon the Syndic defenses, a rain no shield would repel. Syndic command authorities, which in a few hours would be reeling from news of the Alliance fleet’s arrival, would very soon afterward also see that bombardment on its way. In one sense it was unfortunate that the weapons would take a lot longer to reach their targets than the light advertising their approach, but since their targets couldn’t avoid or block the projectiles, the sight of the incoming wave of devastation would have plenty of time to add to the panic.
Combat systems helpfully advised that Witch, Jinn, Goblin, and Titan should be told to prioritize fabrication of replacement kinetic bombardment projectiles. Geary tapped the control to pass that to Captain Tyrosian on Witch. It all felt so very smooth and simple, out here on the edge of the system. As the fleet raced inward, getting in among the Syndics where reaction times were measured in seconds and minutes instead of hours, it would start feeling a lot less smooth, he knew. And as those kinetic projectiles reached their targets, a wave of destruction would ripple across the worlds and human artifacts orbiting the star Sancere. Remembering the many Alliance ships the Syndics had destroyed in the ambush at their home system before he’d assumed command, Geary felt a grim satisfaction at the thought of how the Syndic leaders would react when news of the attack on Sancere finally reached them. You thought we were scared, running so hard for our lives that we couldn’t hit back. Now you’re finding out just how wrong you were.
One more thing had to be done. Geary straightened in his chair, adopting his best professional pose, then began broadcasting to the entire star system. “People in the Sancere star system, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet. We are engaging all military targets in this system. All other personnel, ships, citizens, colonies, off-planet facilities, and planets are directed to surrender immediately. Those who surrender will be treated humanely in accordance with the laws of war. Failure to surrender risks being targeted for elimination of military-related facilities and resources. Any attacks or attempts against ships of the Alliance fleet will be met with the full force at our disposal.”
“To the honor of our ancestors, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet.”
He ended the transmission, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’m not cut out to be an actor,” he remarked to Captain Desjani.
“It sounded impressive from here,” she replied. Desjani’s attitude toward slaughtering Syndics had been moderated by association with Geary, but she’d still obviously been pleased by the threats of mass destruction that Geary had just broadcast.
About an hour and a half later the fleet swept by the outermost gas giant, the cruisers and destroyers on the wing nearest to the huge planet swooping over to slaughter the big, slow-moving mining ships. On the visual spectrum display, Geary could see dark shapes moving against the bright, pale green globe of the gas giant as his warships tore past, the charged particle “spears” of their hell-lance batteries ripping apart the unarmed mining ships. By bringing up more information, Geary could see representations of the survival pods fleeing from the mining ships, tiny objects scattering in all directions like seeds from bursting cases. Geary called up yet another set of data, and space was threaded with fine lines arcing in graceful curves, marking the projected paths of both his warships and the civilian ships.
From a distance, war could look remarkably beautiful. Having seen it close up, Geary had no trouble seeing past the attractiveness distance rendered, remembering instead torn ships and desperate crews, lifetimes of labor shattered in an instant’s fire from a warship. Even a great victory didn’t look pleasant from the deck plates of the ships involved.
Blossoming clouds of fragments marked the remains of orbital installations that had already caught the force of kinetic rounds hurled their way. “Light’s coming in from our bombardment of the Syndic military base on the big moon of the eighth planet,” Desjani remarked.
Geary switched to that. The optics of the Dauntless’s sensors provided remarkably clear pictures across vast distances, but in this case the clouds of dust and debris rising above what had once been a Syndic military installation were blocking much of the view. Having monitored the early impacts before the views were obscured, the ship’s combat system had damage assessments posted next to every targeted location. All offensive weapons destroyed. All defensive systems eliminated. All communications and control facilities smashed by the impacts of unstoppable heavy chunks of metal traveling at a decent fraction of the speed of light. If something couldn’t dodge the attack, destruction was certain. “This isn’t war. It’s murder.”
Desjani gave Geary a surprised look.
“I know,” he told her. “It’s necessary. But the Syndics at those bases in fixed orbits don’t stand a chance. I can’t cheer the fact that those poor devils are dying.”
Desjani seemed to be thinking, then nodded. “You prefer an honest fight. Certainly. There’s honor to that.”
“Yeah.” One thing in which he and the minds of modern sailors could find agreement. Geary checked the display again. His light units had wiped out the Syndic shipping near the gas giant and were returning to formation. It would be hours yet before the Syndic command authorities saw the Alliance fleet. Like uncounted human military forces before them, the Alliance fleet had to endure the ancient ritual of hurry up and wait.
Geary studied the Syndic flotilla, its almost six hours time-late position meaning little now. If the flotilla had maintained the same trajectory through the Sancere Star System, it would now be where the display predicted. Otherwise, it could have traveled a fair distance even loafing along at well under .1 light. He would have to be sure to handle that flotilla carefully. If I get too confident about how easy destroying it will be, they might surprise me and inflict losses out of proportion to their numbers.
Still, there’s not enough there to threaten us. If Cresida’s formation manages to capture their attention long enough, those Syndic warships won’t be able to get to the hypernet gate before we do. This is looking very good.
Red symbols flashed into existence near the hypernet gate. Geary’s eyes flew to that point, watching as the symbols multiplied, willing them to stop. I spoke too soon. Did the Syndics figure out what we were up to after all? Did they hear from survivors of one of the ships that followed Falco? There shouldn’t have been enough time for them to react to that and get reinforcements here.
Not too many warships. Not too strong a force. Please ancestors make it small enough for us to handle. We can’t run from this system without looting more supplies first.
SIX
“Looks like a dozen battleships and battle cruisers,” Desjani remarked. She seemed happy at the prospect of a bigger battle. “Only five heavy cruisers, though, one light cruiser and nine Hunter-Killers. Why so few escorts?”
The answer to that question became apparent as Dauntless’s sensors evaluated what could be seen of the new Syndic force. “They’ve taken battle damage,” the combat systems watch reported, “and were probably sent here for repair and refit. Most of their escorts were probably destroyed in the battle where the bigger ships took damage.”
Geary nodded, his thoughts roving back toward Alliance space. Were these Syndic ships the victors of a battle in which the Alliance ships following Captain Falco had been annihilated? Or had they been mauled elsewhere by the portions of the fleet that had remained in Alliance space to guard it while most of the fleet had made the risky assault on the Syndic home system? “We need to find out where they got hurt and who did it,” Geary stated out loud.
“Prisoners should be able to tell us that,” Desjani noted cheerfully. “We can pick up some Syndic survival pods after the battle.” She gestured at the images of the newly arrived warships. “If they’re coming here for refit after a battle, they may have little or no expendable weaponry on board. No missiles, no gra
peshot.”
“True,” Geary agreed. “Can they reach any of the munitions depots we’ve identified before our kinetic bombardment hits the ammunition supplies?”
Desjani ran some calculations, her hands flying over the controls. “Maybe. If they haul ass for the farthest munitions depots from us as soon as they spot us. But they’d have little time, and they’d need to get clear before our bombardment hit.”
Geary checked the solution. “And that would take them out away from our path to the hypernet gate. I hope they do make a run for that ammo dump.” He added up the total operational Syndic forces in system now. Sixteen battleships and a dozen battle cruisers, thirteen heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and an even twenty HuKs. A formidable force if they managed to join up and fight together. Formidable on paper, at least. The Syndic flotilla they’d seen in the system upon arrival, if engaged in training, might not have full load-outs of weapons and probably had inexperienced crews. The newly arrived Syndic force was likely as experienced as any warships tended to be when tactics led to bloodbaths with heavy losses, but those ships were already battered and almost certainly low or completely out of expendable weaponry. And, even combined, there were far too few light escorts for the bigger ships.
“What do you think, sir?” Desjani asked.
Geary sat silent for a few moments, using his finger to trace paths through the display before him, depending on instincts born of long experience to estimate how his fleet and the two Syndic forces would move relative to each other. “It’s going to depend on what they do,” he finally decided. “If they’re stupid, they’ll individually rush to battle, and we’ll be able to overwhelm each of the flotillas with a very comfortable superiority in ships and firepower on our side.”
“Will they dare risk trying to join?” Desjani indicated the hypernet gate. “If they know we might be able to use that…”
Oh, hell. Desjani had remained focused on the primary issue, while Geary had gotten lost in possible alternatives. “No. You’re right. That newly arrived force will be told to reinforce the gate defenses.” Or to help destroy the gate. But what about the other flotilla? He traced more paths, then shook his head. “The other flotilla could do any number of things. But my guess is that once they see we’re headed for the gate, they’ll charge that way, too, or else they’ll be ordered there even though they’ll get to the gate too late to stop us.”
“We can handle that,” Desjani noted.
Her calm confidence was infectious. “Yeah.” Geary settled back in his seat. “I figure we’ve got a half hour window before anything else happens, then we’ll have new information coming in for hours as we start seeing the Syndics react to us. I’m going to grab a quick bite to eat.” Desjani nodded, her eyes on her own situation display. “Can I bring you anything?” Geary asked half-jokingly.
She tapped one pocket and grinned. “I’ve got ration bars.”
“You’re a better sailor than me.” Geary smiled in reply. He stood up, turning to see Co-President Rione still seated and eyeing him, her expression impossible to read. Geary nodded to her. “So far so good.”
“So far,” Rione echoed, but he couldn’t tell if her voice held humor or disdain.
Much of the action that unfolded over the following hours as the Alliance fleet fell deeper into the Sancere Star System was predictable. Nonmilitary shipping headed for nearby orbital ports or else began scattering into empty portions of the system in the hopes that the Alliance ships wouldn’t waste time hunting them down. Frantic activity erupted in the orbital shipyards as tugs began hauling away vital materials and a couple of the under-construction major warships, but there weren’t enough tugs to get all of the battleships and battle cruisers being built out of the way of the kinetic bombardment racing toward its targets. The two unfinished warships being pulled out of the path of the bombardment could be easily blown apart later when the fleet swept through that area, but Geary still had to admire the dedication of the Syndic work crews. They were trying, even though the efforts must have seemed as hopeless as they actually were.
Well behind the light announcing the arrival of the Alliance fleet came the kinetic bombardment, spreading out across the system, pummeling targets ever farther in-system, heading inexorably for the inner system crowded with industrial and military installations.
The Syndic force Geary had christened the Training Flotilla in his mind even though the official combat system designation was Syndic Force Alpha had turned toward the fifth world almost four hours before it had sighted Geary’s fleet, closing the distance purely by chance. When he finally saw it yaw around and up, he knew that course change had occurred five hours ago and realized he’d spent more than ten hours on the bridge. He nonetheless waited a little longer, until they could tell the Training Flotilla was moving to engage Task Force Furious. A check of the battle-battered Syndic Force Bravo showed it had, unfortunately, turned back toward the hypernet gate. Geary took a moment to pray the Syndics in that force would use the gate to flee the system and spare him the uncertainty of a battle as well as the worry that they would destroy the gate before he could reach it.
He rubbed his eyes wearily. It was still almost twenty-four more hours until the fleet reached the vicinity of the closest-in gas giant and altered course to sweep directly toward the hypernet gate. There were stimulants he could take to stay awake and alert for days, but even the best of those exacted a price, especially when quick decisions were needed under pressure. The human mind needed real sleep and wouldn’t be happy with anything else. Captain Desjani was napping in her seat, apparently comfortable enough and able to sleep through routine sounds on the bridge. But nothing was going to happen fast now. New information might come in, but it was clear that any developing threat would be seen hours before it was a danger. Geary tapped his communications controls. “All ships ensure crews are rotated and given opportunity for rest.” Geary stood, stretching, determined to provide a good example. “I’m going down to get some sleep,” he advised the watch-standers on the bridge. “Call me if anything unexpected happens. I want to know about any changes in the movements of the two Syndic flotillas.”
Sleeping for six hours in the middle of a battle seemed absurd, but when the battle was happening in slow motion over days of time, it just made sense. Staying awake to watch nothing happening would only leave him too tired to think straight when something did start taking place. So Geary told himself as he lay down in his bunk and stared at the overhead. It could have been a lot worse. The defenses were surprisingly weak despite the many military targets in the system. The Syndics obviously hadn’t thought Sancere faced a real danger of attack, and why should they? But surprises could still happen, and he needed a clear head to deal with them.
Restlessness eventually drove Geary up to roam the ship, stopping to talk with officers and sailors at their duty stations or catching meals. Everyone seemed nervous and excited, worried about what might happen but also feeling the thrill of hitting a surprised enemy hard. A few wondered about the hypernet gate, and Geary offered vague assurances that the gate would be taken if at all possible.
Six hours from reaching the gas giant, the main body of the fleet finally had something exciting to watch besides the wave of destruction as the kinetic bombardment fell on targets ahead of the Alliance force. Task Force Furious had accelerated up to .2 light on its charge toward the inner planets and was now two light-hours away from the main body, braking back down to .1 light and closing fast on Syndic Force Alpha, the Training Flotilla.
Unable to direct the action from so far away, knowing everything he was seeing had already happened, Geary watched while trying not to reveal his nervousness. If those steady commanders of his gave in to temptation and lit into the Syndics, it would result in a bloody brawl. The thirty ships under Cresida’s command were outnumbered by the thirty-nine in the Syndic Training Flotilla, and were also outgunned by the Syndic ships thanks to the ten battleships on the Syndic side. The odds were good en
ough to entice the Syndics to battle, just as Geary had hoped. He was certain Cresida wouldn’t be dumb enough to get involved in a ship-to-ship slug out at close range, but mistakes on her part or clever moves by the Syndics could lead to just that.
It all came down to trusting the officer he had placed in command. After the mess Numos had made of his command of a formation at Kaliban, Geary had vowed not to put anyone else he didn’t trust in charge of any part of the fleet. But it was far easier not to trust, to try to micromanage his subordinates, than it was to let them do their jobs. Funny how that never changes. You have to learn that as a junior officer, and you have to stick to it as a senior officer. If you’re going to be any good as a commander, that is.
Two hours ago, but only now visible to the main body of the Alliance fleet, Cresida had played it smart, angling as if intending a direct clash, then altering course for a glancing engagement. With too little time to react, the Syndic ships reacted clumsily, confirming Geary’s assessment that they were crewed by raw personnel. The Syndic formation tried to pivot around its flagship’s axis, turning and changing heading to present a wall of firepower to Task Force Furious. But some of the Syndic ships turned late, shooting past their turning fellows, and others swung through the same space their comrades were trying to use. Ships twisted away from near collisions, further disrupting the Syndic formation and leaving the flank nearest Task Force Furious’s approach hanging unsupported. As the Syndics tried unsuccessfully to concentrate fire on the approach of the Alliance ships, the Alliance force led by Furious tore past the unsupported flank of the Syndic formation and shredded it with overwhelming firepower directed by ship after ship against the Syndic warships making up the side of the flotilla.
Geary breathed a sigh of relief as Dauntless tallied the Syndic losses. One of the battleships raked repeatedly and left drifting and dead. Two battle cruisers severely damaged. All four heavy cruisers on that flank destroyed along with five of the Hunter-Killers. Status updates sent to Dauntless from the Task Force Furious ships and arriving now along with the light from the battle revealed the Alliance ships had taken little or no damage. “Nice job,” Captain Desjani commented.
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