“There’s always the chance,” Desjani said, “that the armada will peel off to let the fortress deal with us.”
“I know. Our next maneuver will get us much closer to them, though. If what we know and guess about the bear-cows is right, they’ll keep after us.”
The bear-cow armada shifted vector exactly on schedule, making the exact changes in course necessary to bring about another intercept while the bear-cow warships began increasing their velocity. Geary gave them time to steady out on their next course, but ordered the next human maneuver while the bear-cows were still accelerating. “All units come starboard one three four degrees up five degrees at time two seven.”
This time the human formation swung widely back toward the bear-cow armada, every ship pivoting in place within the box. “They’re eighteen light-minutes distant,” Desjani commented, “but we’re going to close that fast on this new course. Current closing speed is point two four light speed, and they’ll keep accelerating until they see we’ve turned toward them.”
Geary nodded, his attention back on the alien fortress. The human fleet had gradually closed the distance to that as well, so the fortress was now but twenty-two light-minutes away, its relative bearing on the port quarter of the Alliance warships as they steadied onto their new course. The bear-cow armada was off the starboard bows of the human ships, so that alien fortress, human fleet, and alien armada were now nearly in a line, with the humans between the two bear-cow forces. “We’re going to be making quicker moves from here on, and a lot of it is going to be by instinct since we won’t have time to see the bear-cow reactions before we make our next move. Let me know if anything feels wrong to you.”
“You’re better than me at fleet maneuvers,” Desjani said. “A lot better.”
“But you can judge whether or not Dauntless is moving the way we want. Just let me know how that feels. Every other ship in this fleet is keeping position on Dauntless, so if she’s moving how we want, they’ll be moving how we want.”
“Yes, sir.”
Seventy-five minutes left to contact, or more like seventy if the bear-cows kept accelerating.
He had briefed his ship captains on what was to happen. Over the next couple of hours, the human fleet made repeated turns, to port, to starboard, back around, forcing the oncoming alien warships to frequently change their own courses and speeds. If those creatures were human, they would be growing increasingly frustrated and angry as the human fleet kept alternately turning toward a faster meeting, then turning away to force a longer chase. There was also the risk that Geary’s own captains would feel the same emotions. But each set of maneuvers left the bear-cow warships closer to the human fleet and brought both human and alien formations closer to the huge orbiting alien fortress. The twin threats of alien armada and fortress would hopefully help keep Geary’s most aggressive ship captains in their places in the formation rather than charging the enemy.
As the fleet swung widely to port again, Geary thought about the virtues of the bear-cow way of fighting. Every combatant staying exactly where they should, doing exactly as their commander ordered. It would be comforting never to have to worry about someone doing the wrong thing or refusing to do what they had been told.
But then he would have a fleet of commanders who were even worse than Captain Vente, incapable of acting on their own when circumstances required, locked into waiting for exact instructions on what to do, blindly following orders even if those orders were clearly mistaken. Too much discipline and too little discipline were two sides of the same disastrous coin, which could only purchase defeat.
“The leader of that armada has got to be mad as hell,” Desjani said. “You keep playing with them instead of charging in to fight.”
“That’s the idea.” Soon now. The box formation of the human fleet had worked around so it was only a few light-minutes from the alien fortress, but on the nearly opposite side from the bear-cow armada, which was currently clawing around to starboard to come back at the humans, the massive bear-cow superbattleships requiring huge turning radii and the smaller ships around them keeping exact positions relative to the larger ships. Geary had dipped his fleet formation up and down slightly as he weaved back and forth, with the latest maneuver bringing the fleet aimed several degrees under the plane of the star system.
On Geary’s display, he watched the elements of the so-far-bloodless battle all swinging toward the alignment he had been working for all that day. The heading of the human fleet sliding toward the alien fortress, and beyond that fortress, the jump point that he needed to reach now almost in line with the fortress, the current turn aiming to take the fleet short of the fortress. Off to the port side of the human fleet and the alien fortress, the curving path of the alien armada was gliding toward not only the human fleet, but also a close approach to the fortress. That won’t worry the bear-cow commander. He wants me. He wants this fleet, and he doesn’t have to worry about being attacked by that fortress. And the fortress is watching me, too, waiting until this fleet gets into the right position so the fortress can launch hundreds of those suicide missile ships at us.
They’re not watching each other because they think they don’t have to.
I hope.
Now.
“All units, come starboard three five degrees at time four nine. Accelerate to point one five light speed.”
Thrusters fired at maximum power as the human fleet checked its turn to port and swung back to starboard in an enormous weaving maneuver. Main propulsion units flared, pushing the warships faster while they swung about. Geary kept his eyes on the ponderous auxiliaries in the center of the formation, knowing this maneuver would stress their capabilities to the maximum. If any of them failed to match the movement of the fleet, he would have to adjust courses on the fly to try to keep them safe.
But even though the largest auxiliaries screamed hull-stress warnings on the fleet alert net, they kept up with the turn. Geary took a deep breath, not even aware that he was crossing his fingers for luck. “All units. Immediate execute Modified Formation Hotel.”
Off to port of the human fleet, the now all-too-close bear-cow armada would be seeing the latest human maneuver, turning away but not enough to avoid contact this time. They would also be seeing the human fleet finally altering velocity, speeding up to confuse targeting and make the intercept harder. And now they would be seeing the outer edges of the human formation dissolving as the human warships shifted positions at the same time as they kept turning and accelerating.
Hundreds of human warships dipped and climbed past each other, following individual paths that were coordinated and woven into a single fabric. The battleships not already at the top of the human formation climbed, joining the rest of the battleships in the top layer to form a wall of strength. The battle cruisers formed clusters at the front and back of the formation, ready to defend those areas or reinforce the battleships. Heavy cruisers swung downward to form a shell about the auxiliaries and assault transports, while light cruisers and destroyers scattered to mix with the battleships and battle cruisers.
But the mass of the human formation stayed relatively compact as it steadied out, heading straight at the alien fortress, but aimed to pass beneath it.
Dauntless’s bridge was silent, everyone watching their displays, waiting to see how the alien armada would act, and when the fortress would launch its huge force of missile ships.
“Point of no return,” Desjani murmured. They were too far committed to this course now, unable to turn away from the fortress and the alien armada quickly enough to avoid a clash.
“Here they come,” Geary said.
The alien armada had come around and was braking velocity, its huge and cumbersome superbattleships straining to match the maneuver. The curve marking the armada’s projected course drifted to the side, steadying directly under the alien fortress. But the massive bear-cow ships couldn’t slow themselves fast enough. “Combined engagement velocity estimated at point one nine
light speed,” Desjani said, as unnaturally calm as usual in the face of battle.
“All units,” Geary ordered, “engage any targets that enter your weapons envelopes.”
It had been days, then hours, then minutes, and now only seconds remained as the three elements of the battle rushed together. Would the alien fortress launch its missile ships on time for a perfect intercept of the human fleet tearing past, or . . . ?
“Here they come,” Desjani said. “Get anything that comes close,” she ordered her bridge crew.
The missile ships had begun launching, leaping upward from the surface of the fortress, but the launches faltered, staggering to a halt as the bear-cow armada in blind pursuit of the human fleet came blundering between the fleet and the fortress, fouling the path of the missile ships as the forces came together at a combined velocity of about fifty-seven thousand kilometers per second. Geary had planned it like an ancient bullfight, getting the bull enraged, getting it where and when he wanted it to be, until the final pass and away while the bull staggered past the place where it had thought to gore its opponent.
The actual shooting lasted for only milliseconds, too fast for human senses to register, automated combat systems selecting targets and firing at enemies who were there and gone in an instant. Particle beams seared deadly paths between ships, specter missiles launched to slam into targets too close to maneuver to avoid them, and sometimes even grapeshot was fired at targets close enough, the metal ball bearings striking with immense force against shields and armor. Dauntless rocked in the wake of explosions already far behind, Geary calling out new orders before he had time to assess damage to the fleet. “All units, brake at maximum to point one light speed.”
The human warships slewed around in place, their main propulsion units struggling to get their velocity low enough to use the jump point looming just beyond.
“A lot of misses,” Desjani commented, breathing slowly and deeply. “Looks like most of the bear-cow shots went wild.”
Geary spared a quick glance at the fleet status readouts. The human warships had focused their fire on the missile ships that had managed to launch, annihilating the partial wave short of their targets though taking some damage from near misses. The bear-cows, hampered by fire control systems that couldn’t match human capabilities at a combined engagement speed of point one nine light, hadn’t scored many hits despite the tremendous amount of firepower hurled out by the superbattleships.
He looked back at the maneuvering display, seeing velocities of his ships crawling downward, closer to point one light speed, the jump point approaching very, very quickly ahead.
“We’ll make it,” Desjani said.
“Not by much.” But it would be enough. “All units, jump now.”
FIVE
“THEY’RE going to come after us,” Desjani said. Outside of Dauntless, nothing was visible now except the dull gray emptiness of jump space. “Those civilian experts are right.”
“Yeah.” He had the same feeling. Geary watched one of the mysterious lights of jump space flare off to one side of the ship, then vanish. “The star we’re heading for is a white dwarf. The odds of a habitable world are very small. Unless the bear-cows have heavily fortified a distant outpost, we’ll be in a better position to take them out.”
“We hit some of those superbattleships hard as we went past,” Desjani pointed out. “But we didn’t inflict much damage. They’re going to be very hard to kill. And did you notice this?” She sent a record to Geary’s display. “Watch the top layer of ships in our formation as they pass closest to the fortress.”
He watched the replay, spotting what she had seen. During the moments when the human ships had been nearest to the fortress, passing beneath it though still thousands of kilometers distant, something had pushed them down and farther away from the fortress. “The bear-cow planetary defense. Whatever that is. At least those unexpected vector changes messed up some of the bear-cow fire aimed at those ships.”
“And made some of the shots from those ships miss, too,” Desjani said. “I think we’ve got a real good picture of the maximum range of that defense mechanism now.”
“Good call.” Tension was still draining from him. How long had he been up on the bridge, for how many hours had he been engaged in the bullfight with the alien armada? “We’ve got eight days in jump space. A really long leap.”
“Are you finally going to get enough sleep?”
“That’s my intent.” He didn’t have to tell Desjani to order maximum crew rest for the next couple of days. He knew that she would do that. Captains sometimes had to demand intense efforts from their crews for extended periods. All captains understood that. Good captains also knew the need to compensate for that extra effort when opportunity permitted, to let their crews know the additional exertion wasn’t taken for granted. “First, I’m going to go down and give my thanks to my ancestors, though. We’re going to need their help when we meet up with the bear-cows again.”
It hadn’t exactly been a victory, but it hadn’t been a defeat. The fleet was clear of Pandora, and it was heading back toward home, even if that path back would be a somewhat crooked one of necessity as the fleet jumped from star to star. Once they reached Syndicate Worlds’ space, they would be able to use the Syndic hypernet to get back to Alliance space quickly, but that option did not exist out here far beyond human-occupied space.
No one could claim that he personally and this fleet as an arm of the Alliance government had not followed their orders. Geary had done exactly what his orders called for, to learn more about the strength and numbers of the enigma race and to learn how far regions controlled by the enigmas extended beyond human-occupied space. Now it was time to take that information home.
The crew members whom Geary encountered in the passageways seemed cheerful enough in a “we survived that, and we’re on the way home” sort of way.
He made his thanks to those powers who were hopefully watching out for him and the rest of the fleet, then made it to his stateroom, fell into his bunk, and finally let himself relax into blessed sleep.
“I’M going to have that talk with Commander Benan,” Geary said. After three days in jump space, he had managed to catch up considerably on sleep and was not yet affected by the strange sensations of discomfort that grew in humans the longer they stayed in jump space.
Desjani raised beseeching eyes upward. It was odd, Geary thought, that humans still instinctively looked up toward the divinities they believed in. Even though humans had penetrated far into the heavens and among the stars, they still somehow thought of something greater being “up there.”
“Admiral, I repeat that is a horrible idea.”
“Understood. I think it’s a horrible idea, too.” He groped for the right words. “But I just have a gut feeling that I need to do this.”
She eyed him. “A gut feeling?”
“Yes. Something keeps telling me that talking alone with Benan will accomplish something.” Geary spread his hands as if trying to clutch at something insubstantial. “I owe that man. Personally, for what happened between me and his wife. And as a representative of the Alliance, for what happened to him in the line of duty. My brain tells me that there’s nothing more I can accomplish, that I have done all that duty requires, but then something else says maybe honor requires a bit more. Requires me to try something that I have no right to expect will work. Because not trying something that might work would be safe but wrong.”
Desjani sighed. “You’re letting guilt drive you to this?”
“No. I don’t think it’s guilt. I did nothing against him on purpose, and I had nothing to do with what the Syndics did to Benan when he was a captive.” Geary paused, thinking. “But he is one of my people, an officer under my command, who is suffering from some kind of injury. Nothing we have tried yet has helped much. One thing we have not tried is a private conversation with me. I need to do that.”
She nodded, one corner of her mouth twisted in a rueful
smile. “Duty is a hard horse to ride. All right. I might feel the same obligation. And if something keeps telling you that you need to try this . . . Our ancestors often speak to us in muted voices. Maybe one of yours is trying to tell you what to do. But”—the half smile disappeared—“you’re not going to have that woman in there with you, are you?”
“No. Having Victoria Rione there would just emphasize one of the things between us.”
“She could also serve to restrain him if he flies off the handle. Admiral, you know as well as I do that if Benan says something to you that is contrary to regulations, you are obligated to act on that even if no one else knows about it.”
“I’m aware of that,” Geary said.
Desjani shook her head. “Fine. Were you planning to have this little chat in your stateroom?”
“That is a private—”
“It’s also where you and that woman spent a lot of time together. Remember?” Her voice roughened, but Desjani managed not to sound too angry at the thought. “Do you think Benan won’t be aware of that?”
Geary grimaced. “We’ll use a private conference room. Security-sealed.”
“And I’ll be outside the hatch. Along with that woman. If you hit the panic button in there, I’ll have the hatch open and be throwing her between you two before you can count to three.”
“All right, Captain.”
Rione hadn’t been any more enthusiastic about the idea than Desjani, but Geary had not relented. “Your instincts have been right often enough in battle,” Rione finally said. “And mine have been just as often wrong. Perhaps you will be right in this as well.”
Geary led Benan into the conference room, knowing that Desjani and Rione were just out of sight around a corner of the passageway and would come to stand by the hatch once it was closed.
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Invincible Page 9