Yet this time they were not alone. Colonel Mccalister had joined them, and he brought the pilot who had rescued Gabriel. Nakani did not seem to be particularly honored by the invitation; she sat and examined each of the others as if sniffing for weakness, but at the very least she seemed to intend to act civil.
Both Elder Miller and Keeper Schreiber had come as well. The Keeper had arrived ostensibly to record the deliberations, but Susan knew quite well how much he wanted to make sure that his ancestor’s gift was being protected. Elder Miller had kept his own purposes a bit closer to heart, but she could hardly begrudge the man his restraint.
Susan waited until they were all settled, and as Gabriel sat down among them, she stood. A gesture brought up the display of the star system, with the plot of the various forces highlighted on it. “Welcome to all of you. It’s time to discuss the way we will defeat the forces of the Directorate in this system before proceeding to continue our journey.”
Nakani snorted. Faces turned to regard her with varying levels of hostility, but the mercenary didn’t seem to mind. She gestured to the display. “That didn’t seem to go so well for you last time, Admiral. What’s going to make the difference this time around?”
Elder Miller answered first. “The Lord will preserve the righteous, Ms. Nakani.”
The mercenary seemed ready to shoot back a glib response, but Mccalister silenced her with a stern look. Then the colonel turned to Susan, his tone wary, but respectful. “Perhaps what Ms. Nakani meant was that another encounter might not be to our advantage. The enemy does have overwhelming superiority.”
Susan nodded. “In most respects, yes, they do.” She nodded to the display, and the symbols that represented the enemy task force grew. “They have fourteen cruisers, well over twenty escort craft, three mid-level command ships, and a major fleet carrier. They also have a ship registered to the Special Operations section of the Directorate, which for all intents and purposes is a smaller, faster cruiser on its own.”
“What they do not have, that we do, is an information advantage.” Susan looked to the Keeper, who nodded in understanding. “Through a particular source, we have a precise knowledge of every enemy ship’s location, disposition, and course. We can avoid action or engage the enemy at the time of our choosing—and the moment of our greatest advantage.”
The Keeper cleared his throat, apparently deigning to take direct part in the proceedings. His voice was measured and calm. “Admiral, if we have that ability, would not the best course to be avoiding all action and continuing to cascade out of their reach? I believe that was your earlier plan.” A murmur ran through the assembled officers, some in grudging agreement, others in belligerent disapproval, but Susan called their attention back to her with a look.
“I understand your reluctance to commit to further action against the Directorate, Keeper. None of us are particularly happy about the situation, and I would avoid the battle if I could.” She took a moment to glance at Commander Mesic, who still wore the look of a man caught between a rock and a hard place. The past few days had not been easy for him, and the prospect of enduring more conflict between the fleet and his former comrades would only make things worse. She continued. “Nevertheless, it is unavoidable. This task force will continue to attack us, and they will follow us wherever we go. The next cascade could bring a battle, whether we want to fight or not, if they manage to come in right on top of our position.”
When she paused, Captain Ndigwe spoke up. “Besides, the plan is for us to establish a colony. If the Directorate follows us that far, they will attack us there if we don’t stop them here. Better to finish things now, while we are at our best.”
Heads nodded around the table, and Schreiber sat back. He did not look entirely satisfied, but then, Susan wasn’t completely happy with the situation either. She waited a moment before continuing.
“Our information will allow us several advantages. First, we will have the chance to conduct rig strikes against the enemy while remaining out of direct sensor contact. That should mean that we will be able to dictate the opening moves of the engagement, as well as possibly wearing down the forces facing us.”
Captain Kornacki of the Liberation grunted. Her voice was rough. “The rigs didn’t do so well in their last encounter. What if they run into an escort force, or if the enemy manages to concentrate and deploy their own rigs to intercept them? We could end up losing more pilots and machines than we can afford.”
Gabriel was the next to speak. His voice was even. “Our rigs will be ready. We’ve caused them heavy casualties in the past, but the idea this time will be to decoy the enemy away from their ships to allow the AWORs a free pass at them. That way, we enjoy the biggest advantage we can possibly have during our initial strike.”
Susan allowed herself a grim smile. “If all goes well, we should be able to neutralize at least some of their carriers with the AWORs’ first runs. The attacks will put a higher strain on their remaining ships and encourage them to come out after us. As a result, they should also spread out to increase their chances of tracing our rigs back to the Concord, giving our other ships time to strike them hard.”
She tapped a control, and the projection of the star system narrowed to a much smaller slice of space. There, three different splashes of green marked her fleet’s future deployments. “For this operation, we will be dividing our forces into three groups. Group one—also known as Home Group—will be made up of the Concord and a handful of escort craft. We will be stationed here.” Susan highlighted the farthest group from the glowing red of the enemy ships. “Home Group will continue to maintain distance from the enemy cruisers and send in waves of rigs for attack runs.
“Group two—known as Decoy Group—will be led by Colonel Mccalister, on the Penance.” A murmur ran through the audience, and Nakani sat bolt upright as Susan continued. “The Scrap, the Junkyard, the Salvation, and the Redemption will all be joining you. Modifications will be made to the last two ships in order to accommodate their role in your portion of the attack.”
Colonel Mccalister met her gaze with a blank expression. “Yes, ma’am. Understood.” He hesitated. “Will these modifications prepare them for a Contingency Beta strike, ma’am?”
Susan let out a small breath. Contingency Beta had been one of the fallback plans during the original decoy operation, and had been one of the options in the most desperate of circumstances. Neither she nor Mccalister particularly liked the possible need to use it, but she needed every tool she could lay hands on if she wanted to win the engagement. “Most likely, Colonel, but your primary role will be to launch the RSR units and act as a decoy for one of their combat groups. A direct engagement is unadvisable, even with a successful Contingency Beta, and if needed, you can abort your approach to avoid such action.”
Colonel Mccalister nodded, his face tense. He remained quiet, but Nakani half stood from her seat with an abruptness that set several of the other officers on edge. “Now wait a damn minute! Our ships don’t even have weapons, and the ones you’re sending with us are nearly cripples. You’re staking us out like lambs for the slaughter!”
“That is the main use of bait, Ms. Nakani.” Susan bared her teeth in what might only broadly be called a smile. “Nevertheless, you will not be aboard the Penance. You and the rest of your Hope Squadron will be on the Concord, deploying with the main group of rigs there.”
Nakani froze, and then for some reason looked at Gabriel. “You can’t mean …”
He shrugged. “The enemy may need to be convinced that the AWORs are with our advance rig force for them to be lured out. A squadron of heavier rigs might play that up a bit more.” Then he smiled. “Don’t worry, though. With no weapons, we won’t expect you to hang around. You can fly home as soon as we make contact.”
Nakani sat, still staring at Gabriel with a pale, infuriated expression. Susan tried hard not to savor the mercenary’s discomfort and turned to her display again. The third batch of lights was highlighted now,
and she addressed the gathered officers sternly. “Our third group will contain the ships Deliverance, Liberation, Restoration, and Emancipation, along with the Fountain, the Harvest, the Foundry, and the Surveyor. They will be known as the Strike Group. Captain Ndigwe will be in command.” The captain of the Deliverance straightened slightly in her chair, and Susan nodded to her. “You will be engaging the enemy at close range, and will be responsible for pursuit operations if the enemy breaks.”
Ndigwe nodded, and Susan paused to look over at Captain Essel, the commanding officer of the only frigate not mentioned. “The Hearth will remain with the civilian fleet, providing logistics support and emergency response. Your designation will be Summer Group, as the Summer Rain and the Council will be with you.”
Essel nodded easily, though he could have been hiding resentment within. The fact was that the Hearth’s tetherdrive and superstructure had received nearly as much damage as the Salvation, and it carried the critical materials intended for the initial colony base. She could not afford risking it in the coming fight, and she needed a Directorate-equipped ship near the civilians that the OMNI could access. She waited until the officers had settled from their murmurs and returned their attention to her before she continued.
“Our goal here is not simply to destroy the enemy. If we can convince them to retreat, to give up their pursuit, then we have won. Do not, under any circumstances, try to compel them to stay and fight. Give them every chance to run, and if the Lord is really watching out for you, they will.” A bemused murmur spread through the officers as they registered her faint humor, but Gabriel nodded seriously. So did Elder Miller, who gestured for her attention. “Yes, Speaker?”
“Admiral Delacourt, I respect the need for surprise in any military situation, but the Council and I have felt most strongly that we should offer the enemy a warning. Perhaps a demonstration of our capabilities might drive them away without needing to fight?”
Susan paused, seeing heads nod around the table. “I’m afraid that you are overly optimistic, Elder Miller. Any communication with the enemy task force is pointless. They surely have orders to ignore any transmission from us, and any such signals would carry the further danger of revealing our intentions—and worse, our position. With the limited forces at our disposal, we could run the risk of annihilation.”
Elder Miller closed his eyes for a moment, as if thinking the matter through. When he opened them, his gaze was startlingly clear. “I understand, Admiral. At the same time, the chance to end this conflict without further bloodshed is one that may be worth the risk. The Lord would expect nothing less from us.”
There was silence around the table now, filled with the discomfort of open disagreement between the spiritual and military heads of the Wayfarers. Susan felt her temper begin to rise until Gabriel spoke up from his seat.
“Admiral, if I may?”
Susan glanced at him, anticipating some sort of argument automatically in favor of his father’s idea, but Gabriel merely waited for her response. For a moment, she hesitated, though she let none of the doubt she felt show on her face. Would Gabriel undermine her in front of the fleet? Or would he show some sense for once? Faced with the dilemma, she decided that she could trust him to do what he felt was right. Strangely, that was comforting enough for her to nod. “Go ahead, Captain Miller.”
Gabriel turned to address his father first. “Admiral Delacourt is correct that a demonstration of our true capabilities would only make the Directorate more alert and might endanger the lives of our forces. That would not be what the Lord would want either, I believe.” Elder Miller nodded slowly to his son’s answer, and then Gabriel turned to the other officers, his eyes moving over them.
“At the same time, as Admiral Delacourt has said, our goal is not just to destroy the enemy, but to demoralize them. Perhaps the best option we have is to relay a message that overstates our strengths and position, perhaps to entice them to either take our bait or withdraw.” He turned his attention back to her and smiled. “Would you be able to arrange that sort of deception, Admiral?”
Susan watched him carefully. An idea occurred to her, a move that she otherwise would not have considered, and she returned his smile. “I believe I could, Captain Miller.” She looked from him to his father, and she found the Speaker only moderately baffled by the exchange. “Elder Miller, I can arrange for our friends from the Directorate to be warned, after a fashion. I assume it would fulfill your request if the warning was slightly exaggerated?”
A chuckle ran through the gathered officers, and Elder Miller glanced at his son. He seemed to feel reassured with what he saw there, and nodded. “Yes, Admiral.” He broke into a grin that looked far too similar to Gabriel’s. “I suppose the Lord will forgive us this small deception, considering the circumstances.”
The conflict faded from the room, and Susan felt the muscles along her back loosen in relief. On the eve of combat, the last thing she needed was a division in her forces. She touched one last control, and the display faded. “Then we should get to work. I will be in contact with each of your detachments throughout the operation. Fight hard, fight smart, and we will win a victory that will guarantee our freedom. Our people and our future are depending on us. Good luck.”
Wong stood on his command deck and strove for patience.
The admiral before him was not a good example of that virtue. Wong was rapidly growing convinced that Admiral Nevlin, Hero of Riaskat, was not the best example of any martial virtue, and the fact that the same opinion was reflected in the eyes of many of his bridge officers did nothing to improve his own self-control. Yet he bit down on his own harsh retorts and kept his eyes fixed on the main plot as Nevlin stalked and shouted in front of him.
“Your culpable lack of an offensive mindset has cost us a quick victory, Captain, a point I plan to make clear to the review board once we return!” Nevlin spared a moment of his pacing to glare at him. He could very nearly have gnashed his teeth as well when he turned his head back in a choppy, exaggerated motion. “If Susan Delacourt and the rest of her band escape our grasp, I will not stand by idle while your personal lack of dedication to our cause undermines our efforts. You will be relieved of command and placed under close arrest while someone competent takes charge.”
Wong continued to focus on the plot and very resolutely said nothing about the fact that it had been Admiral Nevlin’s responsibility to lead the task force, not the flag captain’s. He did not rebuke the admiral for his own lack of dedication to his responsibilities, nor did he speculate that whoever the competent individual was that would replace Wong at the head of the task force, he highly doubted it would be Nevlin. He stomped down instead on his rising fury and forced himself to breathe. It was an experience he would not long have to endure.
Nevlin had flown into one of these rages on the hour for the past two shifts, berating whatever officers he met on the trip between his personal quarters and the command deck, until he reached Wong himself. The admiral had then spent at least five minutes—but no more than ten—personally reprimanding Wong for every possible flaw an officer of Nevlin’s imagination could think up. Which, given Nevlin’s apparent mental faculties, was not a large number; Wong had to endure the trial of repetition as well as his former hero’s bad behavior. He almost wished for the admiral to carry out his threat and banish him to the brig, if only because it would put his torture to an end.
Wong closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that the Wayfarers had been only a fraction less competent in their avoidance of his forces. They’d disappeared completely from the surrounding space, somehow evading all his patrols. There were no signals to follow, no courses to trace, and no sign that the Wayfarers had decided to leave the system in cascade. Perhaps they were still attempting to reorganize, to pull together their scattered detachments to leave the system, but Wong doubted it. If they did not find them soon, the task force might have to consider splitting up to widen the search, an action that would expose them all to a fa
r larger risk of defeat in detail.
“Are you paying attention, Captain, or do I need to remind you what discipline within the Directorate means?”
Nevlin’s sharp demand made Wong open his eyes with a snap. He braced himself for a further wave of abuse, wondering if the Admiral would extend his normal lecturing time in response.
Then he saw her.
The woman stood at the main plot, her back turned to him. A carefully placed braid of dark hair ran down her back, nearly disappearing against the black of her unfamiliar uniform. Whatever her style of clothing, Wong instantly recognized her posture as that of a warrior, someone used to shouldering the burden of command. Her hands were clasped behind her in a stance every cadet learned at the Directorate officer schools, and unlike the rest of the men and women on the command deck, she paid absolutely no attention to the scene Admiral Nevlin was creating.
Nevlin continued, clearly unaware of anything amiss on the bridge. “Did you hear me, Captain, or do I need to explain myself more clearly? You are about to be relieved of your command!”
Wong very carefully reached for his sidearm, a weapon he’d never personally needed to draw outside of training and target practice. He was reasonably confident that he could hit the woman if he needed to, but he wasn’t sure. How had she reached the bridge? An intruder should have been stopped at any number of points along the corridors leading to the command deck. The soldiers at the entry hatches should have interrogated her. How had she managed to slip past them?
Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 22