by John F. Carr
III
Over the next five days, the Sauron and Imperial Fleets kept the planet Tanith between them while they re-formed, tended their wounds and spaced their dead with the ceremonies respective to each Navy. Neither pursued the other aggressively, but the Saurons doggedly drove off any Imperial attempts to bombard the spaceport, and the Imperials made it clear they were not about to allow the Saurons to retrieve their forces from Tanith’s surface.
Maneuvering so close to Tanith put both Fleets deep within the planet’s gravity well, where high-speed accelerations would result being slingshot out of the action almost before they could engage. Caution and patience became the watchwords as the opposing fleets circled Tanith in wary maneuvers, waiting for an opportunity to destroy one another.
Between those fleets, Tanith turned under her changeless skies, the ground battle having reached a stalemate. The Sauron and Imperial troops were both unsupplied, but the Saurons were too outnumbered to venture out of the spaceport and the Imperials were not about to storm the gates and go hand-to-hand with a force containing over a hundred Cyborgs.
The enemies waited, and planned.
The Fomoria was mated by docking sleeves and umbilicals to a fleet replenishment vessel. Combat and personal supplies were transferred between ships, preparing them for the next engagement to be undertaken by Diettinger and the other commanders of the Second Sauron Fleet.
Second Rank was delivering the Fleet status update from the Fomoria’s briefing room; the other commanders were tied-in by message laser.
“Casualty reports ten percent in our favor, plus variable advantage conferred by the destruction of an estimated seventy-five percent of the New Chicago’s fighters.”
“Status of the enemy capital ships.”
“Estimates only, First Rank,” she said. “Our reconnaissance cannot close sufficiently for definitive observation.”
Diettinger pressed a switch that cut off their signal to the other ships. “Then give me your estimate, Second. An apology for circumstances beyond your control is pointless and time-consuming.” He had slept little, his temper was as short as their time for resolving the conflict, and Second Rank’s habit of over-clarification was becoming annoying.
Second Rank did not look up from her screen as she read: “Aleksandr Nevsky, George Washington and King George V suffered moderate but reparable damage. King George V suffered burn-through to her bridge section by an X-ray laser; ninety-five percent probability of complete command and crew fatality.”
Diettinger listened to the rest of the report, struck by the similarity of casualties taken on both sides. Except for the lucky hit on the KGV and the destruction of the enemy fighters, losses were approximately equal. On impulse, he asked Second Rank for specifics about one ship. “Status on the Strela.”
“No damage, First Rank, despite its engagement of four of our ships at different points in the battle. The Strela is evidently conned by an extremely capable commander.”
Diettinger smiled, allowing himself to notice for a moment the dull ache in his face where his left eye had been. Capable, he thought, or highly motivated? Just what did happen to that Adderly fellow? And what about those two Chinthe destroyers that were headed for the Alderson Point at five-Gs? Did that last salvo get them both, or only one?
“Very good.” He turned to face the images of the Fleet element commanders. “As you know, the First Fleet will arrive here in four days. This will precipitate a conclusive battle for the control of Tanith space and the invasion of the world itself, necessitating heavy planetary bombardment. The borloi is still there, and must be removed from the surface of Tanith before such bombardment destroys it.
“First Rank Vonnerbek; the Leviathan will lead the first element of the Fleet against the Imperial force. You will maneuver around Tanith and attack from over the north pole of the planet. First Rank Lucan; the Wallenstein will lead the second element around the equator with a five-minute separation from Vonnerbek’s element. First rank Emory; the Damaris will lead the third element over the north pole as well, with a ten minute separation from Vonnerbek’s element.
“Between the time Wallenstein engages and Task Force Damaris departs, Fomoria and the combined shuttles of the Fleet will enter geo-synchronous orbit over the spaceport and begin simultaneously resupplying the troops there and lifting the borloi. Fomoria will then proceed immediately to the Alderson Point Three and the Jump sequence to Sauron. Task Force Damaris will accompany us as escort and to secure the Point for the arrival of the First Fleet. Questions?”
Emory spoke. “Deployment for the initial engagement, First Rank: Would it not be more effective to engage the Imperials from a third flank, thus spreading their forces?”
“Normally, yes. But once the second element of the Fleet engages, the Imperials will perceive a pattern and begin shifting forces to meet the third attack you suggest. Human norms choose patterns in their tactics—orienting their naval ops parallel to the plane of the elliptic, reacting to sequential maneuvers in a clockwise pattern—it is a trait of which even they are seldom aware. As a result, there is an even probability that they will shift their forces, either toward the south pole, or away from Lucan’s equatorial thrust with Task Force Wallenstein, thus further weakening their position for your reinforcement of Vonnerbek’s initial thrust.”
Emory nodded in admiration. There were few Imperials who could boast Diettinger’s mastery of naval tactics, and almost no Saurons.
“Proposition, First Rank,” Vonnerbek said. “The Fomoria’s ground troops have been on-station for almost two T-weeks; troops of the First Fleet en route and those aboard our own ships were designated for invasion ops before departure and are heavily supplied for same. They could assume occupation duty of the spaceport while your troops are returned to the Fomoria.”
Diettinger considered the offer; the moment the borloi was secured, he would be expected to depart for Sauron. Any delay to recover his troops, in the face of the current Imperial presence, could well prove fatal.
He nodded. “Excellent, Vonnerbek. Thank you. Your own shipboard Deathmaster will coordinate with Deathmaster Quilland and Second Rank.”
“Casualty parameters, First Rank?” Lucan asked. Quiet, low-keyed, even for a Sauron, Lucan was widely referred to as “The Phantom.” Under his command the Wallenstein had led a charmed life; more than two dozen major engagements, seven enemy capital ships and scores of merchantmen destroyed, all without the loss of a single crewman.
Diettinger smiled. “Let’s see how it goes, shall we?” He was confident; these First Ranks were the finest naval officers of the Sauron home world. The First Fleet would have many more ships, but few commanders of their caliber. “The situation will very likely present unexpected opportunities.”
There were no more questions, only satisfied acknowledgements from the other First Ranks.
“Commence task force formation.” Diettinger finished the meeting. “Operations commence in twelve hours.”
Chapter Seven
I
The bridge of the King George V was eerily intact. No equipment damaged, the acceleration couches showed no blood or gore; there was even a bulb of cold coffee floating idly in the corner. It looked for all the world as if her bridge crew had all simply stepped into the next room and would return at any moment. There was nothing to indicate they had all died within seconds of one another.
A squad of Imperial Marines standing guard at the bridge had presented arms, their corporal delivering a mournful Taps before a Navy bosun piped Adderly and his crew through the hatch.
A little late, Adderly thought.
There had been no such ceremony in the confusion of his arrival, but he had demanded it before he would set foot on King George V’s bridge. He would not explain whether his decision arose out of respect or superstition, but whatever his reasons, the Marines and bosun would carry the word to the surviving crewmen that the new skipper was a man who did the right things.
“All
right, Jimmy,” he told his First Officer, calling up the KGV’s status report at his own command station screen. “Let’s see how the lady’s faring.”
Adderly’s new command had come to him with more woes than just an empty bridge, but most damage-control reports were into the green already, the status lines reflecting the work of an excellent repair crew. Adderly saw that while several lines were still amber, only one remained red: BRIDGE CREW.
He frowned, tapping it with a knuckle, a habit as ancient as it was pointless. Finally he called Damage Control Officer and informed them of the error.
“Sorry, sir. We show green for the bridge throughout the rest of the ship, probably something bollixed by that X-ray laser hit. Might have burned the sensors into that setting. Let me try a few tricks at this end.”
But despite the DCO’s efforts, the status line would do no more than flicker briefly into the green before stubbornly returning to red.
A bit creepy, that, Adderly thought, trying to make it sound humorous in his own head, but not succeeding. He noticed that even with a full and busy crew, the bridge was quiet. Men carried out their duties with very little talk, if any. Remembering the Strela’s crew, convinced of their own ill luck, Adderly wanted to avoid any such rumors aboard the KGV.
Put the dead to rest, Adderly thought. Sailors as a rule were a notoriously superstitious lot. The other half of the old saying suddenly came to mind. “And God grant they lie still…” Evidently Captains were no exception.
He had barely finished reviewing the repair operations when the Fleet alarm went off.
Adderly’s headset was patched into the Second Imperial Fleet Communications Net even before he was strapped into his acceleration couch. His fingers stabbed the acknowledgement codes into the commander’s terminal. Captain Lester was doing this less than a week ago, he suddenly thought, wondering what sort of man the KGV’s former skipper had been.
FleetComNet was chattering in his ears, giving him force deployment and formation orders; those of his officers who needed all this were getting it, too, but everything in the Imperial Navy went past the “Old Man” as well.
The faint voices of acknowledgements were overlaid with the signal of Kellogg’s Fleet Operations Officer, Commander Sakai: “—reconnaissance reports enemy fleet elements approaching from over north pole of Tanith…one-fourth estimated surviving enemy Fleet strength in task force, Sauron Battleship Leviathan identified as core vessel… Task Force Washington, shift to Tanith-positive aspect and prepare to engage…Task Force King George V, status report…”
KGV’s Damage Control Officer replayed the information while Adderly ordered all shipboard systems to full alert; any repairs left for the KGV or the ships with her would have to wait; doubtless there would soon be more to go with those she already had.
Admiral Kellogg’s image suddenly appeared on all the command screens, abruptly breaking through the cacophony of voices. “Sorry, gentlemen, but the Saurons aren’t giving us much time for a battle briefing. This first wave coming over the pole means they’ll probably send the successive waves from the opposite directions along the equator and under the southern planetary axis. We can expect this attack to be typically Sauron-thorough; they rarely leave loopholes in their maneuvers that aren’t traps. Keeping that in mind, there is little excuse for us to fall into one. All Task Forces are to maintain strict cohesion; no one will engage until ordered to do so, and all activities are to be coordinated through myself or ’Nevsky’s FleetOps officer, Commander Sakai. Kellogg out.”
Adderly sighed. This is twice now they’ve moved before we were ready for them. Diettinger really is the Sauron innovator the Intel dossier has labeled him. The report had also noted that Diettinger had never lost an engagement of which he was in command.
“Terrific,” he said aloud. The Strela crews’ fatalistic attitude had now attached itself to him.
“Sir?” The First Mate looked up.
Adderly shook his head and grinned. In an attempt to bolster his crew’s confidence, he said. “Nothing, Jimmy. Looking forward to some payback, is all. Signal the task force to come into formation.” At least this time there’s plenty of backup.
Task Force KGV was ordered to stand by in reserve for Washington’s move against the Saurons. Adderly found himself anxiously watching the combat holo, listening for the engage order, checking and rechecking the straps of his acceleration couch. Every part of him ached to close with the Saurons, fight them, hurt them, smash them.
He glanced at his bridge crew, survivors of the Canada. They were quiet, but not out of respect for their predecessors; now they looked less reverent than grim. Revenge for the Canada was at hand, and they couldn’t wait.
Adderly looked to his First Mate. “Blood in the water, eh, Jimmy?”
The First Mate smiled thinly. “Aye, sir.”
Adderly cleared his throat. In a low voice he said, “Let’s keep our heads even so, shall we, gentlemen? The day of the week is wrong, but the toast fits: ‘A willing foe, and sea room.’ I think it’s safe to say that we’re all getting that wish. Just remember that this foe is all too willing, and any mistakes we incur in our eagerness can benefit only him.”
II
“Imperial Task Force Washington engaging the Leviathan element, First Rank. Wallenstein element accelerating and moving to engage.”
“Signal Damaris element to delay engagement until notified.” Mentally, Diettinger amended the timetable; the human norms might sometimes be predictable, but they were also more flexible in their thinking than most of the rigidly-trained Soldiers. Their adaptability could provide unpleasant surprises.
“Lay in course for the spaceport, standard ground force retrieval maneuvers.”
He turned toward the sound of furious activity at a command station. “Weapons. Status?”
“All systems operational, First Rank.” Diettinger smiled at the strain in the officer’s voice.
Saurons were masters of remotely-piloted vehicle technologies: the Canada was now such a platform, its actions dictated by the First Rank, but initiated by Weapons, who still retained all his duties aboard the Fomoria. Weapons was carrying out his task admirably, but the Fomoria and Canada were both formidable ships, and even Saurons could only do so many things at once.
Task Force Washington engaged Leviathan’s group with all the subtlety of a train wreck. The Sauron line held against the initial onslaught, but even the most veteran Soldiers were surprised by the ferocity of the Imperial attack.
At first, Vonnerbek wondered just who was attacking whom, but the engagement leveled off just as the Wallenstein’s force rounded the equator. The Imperials dispatched TF Garibaldi to meet the new threat, holding the KGV and Aleksandr Nevsky in reserve—waiting.
Aboard the KGV, Adderly watched the screens, demanding continuous updates on the ships engaged. He did not have to ask where the Fomoria was; the moment the Sauron heavy cruiser appeared every officer on the bridge would shout it.
The Fleet Communications Net kicked in. “Task Force KGV, this is FleetOps. Proceed with all speed, negative aspect, to southern pole sector Tanith. Prepare to engage Sauron third wave.”
Adderly frowned. “Say again, FleetOps! South pole?”
“Affirmative, KGV. Tactical analysis indicates Saurons attempting envelopment maneuver. You are to cut them off on the far side of Tanith, engage and hold until relieved or recalled.”
Adderly looked at the combat holo. The tactical analysis made sense; the guess of a Sauron envelopment sounded right—but…
He sighed. “Acknowledged, FleetOps. Helm, you heard the man. Communications, signal the rest of the Task Force we’re moving out.”
Both officers looked at him blankly. “Speed, sir?” the helmsman finally asked.
Adderly scowled. All speed, the FleetOps had said. He turned to the Engineering Officer. “What have we got, Mr. Rostov?”
“Engines are fine, Captain. We can make safe maximum with no problem.”
T
hat would be four-Gs, he thought. Tough on the crew, but bearable for the short time involved. And we will go a long way in that short time.
“Two-Gs, Helm.” He noticed his First Officer’s warning glance; the whole Fleet knew Adderly was in dutch for the loss of the Canada. Caution now would not set well with the Admiral. “And lay in an emergency course-change; three-Gs at zero-four-five, initiate on my order only, no prior notification to the Task Force.”
The midshipman at the helm looked to his older, more experienced counterpart. Seeing no reaction there, the middie complied without comment.
Adderly could almost read his thoughts: “He’s the Captain. He knows what he’s doing—I guess.”
It was as comforting a lie as any other.
“King George V group moving toward the Tanith south pole, First Rank.”
Diettinger instinctively made a gripping motion with his hand. “Signal Damaris element to engage Washington group. Make for the spaceport.” Expressive for a Sauron, his tone carried a sense of elation that puzzled some among his bridge officers; they had only fooled human norms after all.
KVG and the other ships of her task force were beneath Tanith’s equator, the mass of Tanith’s south pole looming above them, when the FleetComNet crackled with a stray signal:
“—nder Nevsky, this is Washington, third Sauron element joining the Leviathan. We are severely outnumbered, requesting permission to break off…”
“Commo, tie-in to that. I want to hear Kellogg’s response.”
“Sir, I don’t know if—” the Communications Officer began, but Adderly cut him off with a shout, “Do it Mister!”
A moment later FleetOps Officer Sakai’s voice came though; Adderly noticed it had lost none of its cool detachment.
“Negative, Washington, do not, repeat, do not break off. Task Force Aleksandr Nevsky moving all speed to your sector now, hold position and await reinforcements.”