“Amazing,” I said, and that’s because it truly was. The Empire wasn’t going to risk anyone or anything they had ever been involved with being turned around and used against them later. The level of pure paranoia evidenced by this gesture was stunning. Well, stunning for anyone not named Montagne.
The System Commander nodded. “We figure the only reason they didn’t do the same here, is because Wolf-9 had never been upgraded, and the fact that there was an old-style Confederation reserve squadron based out of here, was just a lucky oversight. Technically, Wolf-9 isn’t even an active naval base anymore. Half the place is in mothballs, the other half on standby,” he said sadly. “We’re a bunch of old reservists who never officially transferred into the Imperial Fleet.”
He met my eyes levelly. “I think that as far as the local Sector Commanders were concerned, this old fleet base was a relic left over from the Confederation’s glory days, and the Light Squadron presence here was something they were either unaware of, or completely forgot. We’re mostly just here for parades and photo-ops. Assemblymen looking to remind the voters of the good old days before the Empire took us to war seek us out on a kind of nostalgic pilgrimage,” the Acting System Commander said sadly. “We even pulled our little corvettes out of mothballs and refurbished them ourselves, because there just wasn’t the kind of funding or support necessary for a bunch of parade ground warriors playing to the tune of a few of local politicians.”
“I think it's safe to say that your squadron are anything but a bunch of parade ground warriors now,” I said fiercely. “The pair escorting those settlers sure gave those pirates one heck of a fight before we showed up.” Now was the time for some bridge-building, I thought. I couldn't imagine just how much work went into restoring those ships to active duty, based on Le-Godat's description of their resources. A pat on the back was the least I could offer the man.
“Thank you for that, Sir,” he said with a curt nod. Now we were getting somewhere.
“But that still doesn’t explain all the Constructor-Ships,” I continued curiously.
The System Commander started, “Sorry, my mind wandered. That’s pretty simple. The Corporations that own them thought the local planetary governments were eyeing them a little too closely and decided to head for the only place in the Sector with a still-active military presence,” he said.
“Other than a few local SDF Fleet elements,” I added.
“Since those were the very same elements they were most concerned about, I don’t think they factored too largely into their calculations,” Acting System Commander Le-Godat chuckled.
“Right, well it sounds like a clear-cut case of an overeager Imperial Officer straying across the line,” I said firmly. “I’ll just wander on over his way and see if we can’t work something out.”
“Reason has already been tried,” Le-Godat said flatly. “I pray a new face and a different approach end better for you than it did for us.”
“That bad, eh,” I asked dryly.
“Commander Cornwallis threatened to blow my ‘outdated space junk’ out of the sky if any of my corvettes got within so much as twice the distance of our weapons range. After which, he’d blast the Constructors to pieces,” growled the Fleet Reservist.
“Well, let's see if he’s just as willing to duke it out with something a lot closer to his weight class,” I said with toothy grin, “The last time I checked, an Imperial Medium Cruiser might have us on the tech-side, but one of these old Dreadnaught Class Battleships is bigger, stronger and outweighs her by a significant margin.”
“Good luck,” said Le-Godat, signing out.
I turned to the bridge staff, “Find me that Imperial Medium Cruiser,” I barked. “It’s the one right beside a bunch of gigantic Constructors, you really can’t miss it.”
The Sensor staff redoubled their efforts. Apparently, being on the hunt was quite a lot more fun than anything else we had done to this point.
Soon, the much smaller Medium Cruiser appeared on the main screen beside five enormous Constructors.
Clearly, the bridge crew needed more training, I thought before leaning toward the First Officer.
“How do we stack up against that Imperial Ship,” I asked quietly, careful to keep our conversation private.
The First Officer flashed a grin. “The man that never bluffs, eh,” he said sarcastically.
“We’re bigger and tougher, I know that. I just need to know by how much,” I said irritably.
“We’ve got a slight advantage in throw weight. Very slight, say maybe 10%, but she’s faster and more maneuverable. If she can keep the range open, we go from a 10% advantage to about a 20-30% disadvantage, when a third of our firepower simply won’t reach her,” said Tremblay, his eyes snapping up, left and right as he went through the mental gymnastics comparing the two vessel's statistics.
“Not good,” I mused.
“We’ve got better shields and armor,” continued the First Officer, “our shield generators might be old, but if so they’re still beasts, say a 20% advantage there. The hull is really where we come in strong. This old lady was built to take a beating and keep dishing it out. We should have a 50-52% edge in the 'ability to taking a beating' department, over a standard Imperial Strike Class Cruiser,” he finished.
“Should have,” I repeated, ever-hateful of those inevitable addendums.
“The Imperials have the have the best, most well-funded scientists in the entire Confederated Empire working on their military projects. They come up with new cutting edge stuff all the time. Who knows if they’ve already come out with some new weapon, armor or shield upgrade no SDF officer like me’s even heard of,” shrugged the former Intelligence Officer.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Tremblay. You sell yourself short. You were also this ship's primary Intelligence Officer prior to Imperial withdrawal. I'm sure there is no person in this fleet more capable of assessing their tactical capabilities," I said with a calm look and steepled fingers. “So your best guess, please.” I prompted. I love putting Tremblay on the spot, it was much better than floundering around all on my own.
Tremblay folded his arms and turned slightly toward the main screen. “We can take her in a straight-up fight, even if she works to keep the range advantage in her favor,” said the First Officer, “unless she gets lucky of course, or does the smart thing and runs away,” he added. “There’s just no way we could catch her.”
“How would the Constructor’s do,” I asked slowly. “If we slugged it out, that is?”
“Most likely scenario,” Tremblay asked guardedly.
“Hit me with it,” I said.
“They get pummeled,” he said evenly, “Maybe one or two are repairable over time, but the Imperial can disable them all quickly and then blast them to pieces while he’s still busy pecking away at us. With his speed and maneuverability advantage he could probably get to most of the Constructors during the fight, even if we were present, if that was his priority,” said Tremblay.
“Then we can’t give him that opportunity,” I said firmly, pursing my lips.
“Yes, Admiral,” Tremblay said. He didn’t roll his eyes, but the sentiment was present.
“Assemble the command staff. It's time to figure out how to handle this mess. We’ve got three medium cruisers to deal with,” I said firmly.
“Surely you can’t mean to go after the Prometheans and the Imperials at the same time,” protested the former Intelligence Officer, sounding more than a bit incredulous.
“There’s no way I’m letting those faithless Prometheans off the hook, if there’s any way to swing it,” I said in a regally imperious tone.
“Sir, with all due respect, there’s no way we can handle three medium cruisers all at the same time. They’d peck us to death, cripple our engines and then do whatever the Hades they were going to do anyway, all while we drifted helpless and watched!” The First Officer apparently wasn't a fan of this strategy.
“Then we’ll just have to figure out how t
o deal with them all one at a time,” I said smoothly. “Don’t worry, I have an idea.”
“Sweet Murphy save us,” Tremblay said under his breath.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Have a little faith, Mr. Tremblay.”
Chapter 4: Strategy Session
My original plan was to hide behind the pirate cruiser until we reached the Prometheans. We’d deal with them and then head for the Imperial Cruiser.
The ‘Command Team’ shot that down within seconds.
“There’s no way they haven’t already seen us, Sir,” said Tremblay, happy to see the first, most crucial part of my cunning plan go down in flames within the first two seconds of the conference. “But even assuming they’re idiots, there’s still no way they don’t spot us hiding behind it. First, we’re bigger than the pirate cruiser, second there are two of them, so we can’t keep the ship between us and the both of them the whole way in. It's one or the other, and whoever sees us will tell its partner,” he finished, sounding quite satisfied with himself.
One by one they all agreed with him. I looked around. Akantha, my ever-supportive wife, was quite happy to see me fall on my face. She’d been quietly furious with me the whole trip from Tracto, but whenever I broached the subject she would say something like, ‘oh, is there some reason for me to be angry,’ or she’d just deny it. But I knew she was upset.
Ever since the incident on the hull, the Chief Engineer showed up to our command meetings, which was a mixed blessing. The grey-haired Gunner was also present, along with whoever had the tactical station that shift. We had Gants from the Armory and the old Caprian officer in charge of training the Lancers, plus a Promethean and a native Tracto-an understudy to the Lancer Unit. Rounding out the team were Akantha and First Officer Tremblay, naturally.
Everyone shook their head at my plan, everyone except the grey-haired gunner. He stroked his beard and looked intrigued.
“You have something to add,” I said, looking to the only face not filled with derision for my cunning plan.
“If we had any missiles, I’d say send the pirate cruiser anyway, while we headed off to deal with the Imperials,” he said, still stroking his beard. “I’d just lob a few ballistic missiles after them and when they reached closest approach, WHAM!” he said, slamming his hands together.
Several people started and Tremblay jumped.
I appreciated the sentiment, even if it was wholly inapplicable. I even opened my mouth to say so, but was beat to the punch.
“You’ve spent too much time standing in front of the ion cannons while they’re firing,” scoffed Chief Spalding. “We’ve no missiles, you ionized idjit,” and when the gunner opened his mouth, he wagged his finger and hastily added, “Engineering can build anything needed, but not in this kind of time frame.”
The gunner closed his mouth, glanced over at the would-be Lancers, then shrugged. “Got no missiles,” he shrugged again, “we send gunners instead. Me and the boys aren’t afraid of a little cold space assignment. We’ll just hold onto the cruiser until we’re close and then float on over to sort them out.”
A storm of criticism erupted and the Gunner just sat back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and smiled.
“That’s a job for Lancers, not space crazed Gunners,” exclaimed the Lancer Colonel. “And it's too dangerous!”
The Chief Engineer gaped like a fish before recomposing himself and jumping into the fray, “The Engineering department could do a better job of it. Leaping from ship to ship is a natural skill of ours. Why, a gunner can’t even hit his target half the time,” he said gamely. “How can you trust him to find his way in open space?”
Ever-eager Gants looked intrigued, “I know a few boys who might be interested in such a plan,” he offered cheerfully.
“Impossible,” snapped First Officer Tremblay. “This cruiser decoy fantasy has been off-base from the word jump. And anyone who supports it is either a fool or a few screws loose in the head,” he shot a glance at the Chief Engineer as he said this.
“That’s right,” exclaimed the Lancer Colonel, “Jumping’s a fools plan,” he shot the gunner a look like he was stupid for ever suggesting it. Tremblay nodded his agreement.
“Shuttles hidden behind the prize ship are the only way to get at them fast enough they just can’t run away and zap you to pieces with their point defense,” continued the Colonel.
Tremblay looked betrayed. I couldn’t help an amazed smile from spreading across my face.
Then Akantha sealed the deal. “My people aren’t afraid to take a shuttle or jump off the ship, if that’s what it takes to give us a chance to battle the oathbreakers,” she said, icy disdain for anyone who was afraid of the risks oozing from her voice.
It was nice to see her venom pointed at someone else for a change, I thought.
Riding this wave of enthusiasm, we soon hammered out a tentative plan for dealing with the Imperial Cruiser as well. It wasn’t perfect, but I was more than happy to end the conference on a positive note.
Lieutenant Commander McCruise had much less enthusiasm for my plan than the Command Staff. That might have to do with the fact that she’d be riding in an unarmed ship (unarmed, that is, ever since Engineering stripped her weapons systems) on a ballistic course towards two very much still functional medium cruisers.
Still, she saw things my way eventually. Especially when I pointed out that by the time she got her engines in working order, they’d already be past the two targets, or at least so close that seeing an otherwise dead ship floating past suddenly light its engines was just as likely to generate a hostile response.
See, who ever said I was an autocrat was clearly mistaken. I represented the height of representative democracy where everyone gets a vote. Mine just counted for more than all the other ones combined, when you read the final tally, that’s it. Nothing more.
Chapter 5: Into the Fray!
Soon our plan was in motion and the pirate cruiser separated from our hull. Behind it was a small swarm of shuttles filled with newly minted Lancers, barely trained enough to walk in their power armor without falling down, hidden in its shadow and thirsty for blood. Who said putting a man that Parliament considered a Royalist Fanatic (like the Lancer Colonel) in command of a bunch of clueless but bloodthirsty natives was a bad idea?
As for myself, I was starting to have second thoughts. Especially when word reached me Akantha was on one of those shuttles.
I heard it was a feeding frenzy down there as Lancers argued over who should have the first chance at action. She must have gone down and gotten caught up in all the excitement. The longer I knew her, the more bloodthirsty she seemed to become.
But there was no way to recall the shuttles without tipping our hand, so I was left with nothing but worry. I told myself it was only for the Settlers back on Tracto VI, the people who might lose their homes if she died. I even believed myself for once. All of my rationalizations still didn’t get rid of the small pit in my stomach at the sight of her going into a battle I would be helpless to join. Not unless things went very wrong and I finished with the Imperials first.
We’d actually timed things so that even though we had the farthest to go, the Lucky Clover would get within range of the Imperial Cruiser first. Hopefully, the whole system would be focused on the little drama playing out around the fleet of Constructor ships, buying crucial seconds for the small fleet of shuttles carrying my wife and nearly six hundred armed and angry (did I mention power armored?) Lancers.
Because there had been so many volunteers, the Lancer Colonel had stationed another group of six hundred Lancers on the hull of the pirate ship. Just in case reinforcements were needed somewhere along the way. In total, about half my Lancer force of twenty four hundred were deployed on this little side mission.
I still had about twelve hundred untrained Lancers, many of them former Promethean settlers who weren’t as enthusiastic about attacking their former countrymen. Even if those same countrymen had left their
settler brothers and sisters to die in cold space.
I wouldn’t say the new Promethean Lancers were particularly forgiving about the situation, but I think the thought of facing a cousin, friend or someone you knew, just because they happened to serve under an awful captain, probably made them less eager to get out there and mix it up than they otherwise might have been.
Now there was nothing to do but wait. I decided I hated waiting. Watching the ship creep closer and closer to the Imperial, and switching back and forth to watch the same thing happen with the Promethean medium cruisers was maddening.
“We’re getting close enough to the Imperial that they are bound to notice-” Officer Tremblay started.
Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 44