Strange times, indeed. But not so odd, when he thought about it. Both Tanya Desjani and Kommodor Marphissa hated the Syndicate Worlds. Whatever failures could be laid at the feet of Syndicate Worlds CEOs, they had been very successful at creating highly motivated enemies.
He managed to get a small amount of rest in the intervening hours, as well as something to eat. It was an old problem in space, remaining ready for too long because you could see the enemy coming. But since you could see the enemy coming for days, that led to exhaustion by the time you actually met up. In this case, the usual worries were magnified by fear that his decisions had doomed a man he’d already left to die once before.
As the last hour began before that thirty-six-point-four-minute moment of truth, Geary went back to the bridge. He knew he’d have been notified if anything significant had changed, but still felt reassured to take his seat and check his display. Both Syndic formations were still on intercept vectors with Michael Geary’s ship.
From the perspective of Dauntless, Corsair had been growing closer but sitting on the same bearing broad off the starboard bow and a bit below. The Syndic formation from Kukai pursuing Corsair had started out farther toward Dauntless’s starboard beam and farther below, and slowly tracked closer to the bearing of Corsair as it steadily headed to intercept. CEO Grandon’s flotilla, which had come from orbit about the inhabited world, had started out almost dead on Dauntless’s bow and below it, but since altering vector to aim for Corsair had tracked across the bow, rising and growing steadily closer to the same bearing. Unless someone changed their course and speed, in about an hour and a half, all three contacts would merge as both Syndic flotillas intercepted Michael Geary’s fleeing ship.
“Why do you think he’s still not accelerating?” Geary asked Captain Desjani, who of course was already on the bridge.
“He’s at fifteen percent fuel cell reserves according to a status report he sent,” she replied. “That’s really low. He’s probably holding back on any changes in velocity until the Syndics are on him so he can maneuver as much as possible while engaging them. That’s what I would do.”
“Same here. I just wanted to know if one of your contemporaries in the fleet would plan the same way.”
“That’s pretty basic, Admiral.” She’d been gazing thoughtfully at her display, and now bent a questioning look his way. “I have a recommendation. We shift to a vector now that puts us on a direct intercept with Michael’s ship—”
“But wouldn’t that give the Syndics a small window to get past us?”
“—and ten minutes later shift back to our current vector.” Desjani indicated her display. “With the time delays because of the distance between us, the Syndics will have to decide whether to lunge for that window almost as soon as we shift vector. If we shift back soon afterwards, and they’ve altered vectors to get past us, we’ll still be able to catch them when we see their courses change.”
He’d considered trying that before, but at that time the trick hadn’t been feasible. “That’s a great idea, Captain. It wouldn’t have worked when we were farther apart because we couldn’t have held the new vector for long without giving them an opening. But this close it’ll show us whether they’re actually after Michael Geary’s ship without endangering our transports.”
She passed him the maneuvering commands. As he did with every recommended maneuver, Geary spent a moment focusing on the movements to ensure his mind understood what was going to happen. No subconscious alarm bells rang to warn of any problem he might not have consciously spotted, so he gave the orders. “All units in Formation Zebra One, this is Admiral Geary. Immediate execute, all units turn port zero one seven degrees, down zero four degrees. I say again, immediate execute, all units turn port zero one seven degrees, down zero four degrees.”
On the five battle cruisers, as well as the heavy cruisers and destroyers accompanying them, thrusters fired to pitch the bows of the warships to “port,” which in the human conventions for maneuvering in space was turning away from the star, as opposed to starboard or starward, which was a turn toward the star. The thrusters also pitched the warships slightly “down,” which humans measured in terms of the plane in which a star’s planets orbited. As the main propulsion drives on all of the warships lit off, they bent the course of the warships so that Michael Geary’s Corsair was just slightly to the left as seen from Dauntless, the relative positions of the Syndicate flotillas also shifting. As the Alliance warships steadied out on their new vector aimed directly at an intercept with Michael Geary’s ship, it began sliding very slowly to the left since it was still aimed at an intercept point using the original course of the Alliance formation.
The nearest Syndicate flotilla, the one commanded by CEO Grandon that had come from the primary world, was less than twenty light minutes away. Geary ordered his formation back onto the original vector after ten minutes, waiting for the next seven minutes to see if the Syndics had reacted.
They didn’t. The aimed intercept at Michael Geary’s ship hadn’t wavered at all. “They’re really after him.”
“It looks like it,” Desjani said.
“Captain?” Lieutenant Castries said. “We’ve picked up an unencrypted transmission sent from the second Syndic flotilla. It was aimed at Corsair.”
“Forward it to me, the admiral, and to Kommodor Marphissa,” Desjani ordered.
An earnest-looking Syndic officer, one with signs of age as well as authority, spoke in words that combined command with appeal. “This is Executive First Rank Pyotr Zin, speaking to the workers aboard the misappropriated Syndicate Worlds mobile unit. We know that through no fault of your own you have been led astray by your leaders. Instead of serving the Syndicate Worlds and the interests of workers such as yourselves, those leaders have betrayed their oaths, their workers, and their families. They will surely reap the fate they deserve. But you do not deserve to share that fate. You have followed orders in the belief your leaders were loyal. If you comply now with the orders of duly appointed Syndicate authorities such as myself, you will not only be pardoned, you will be rewarded! You know your leaders have made common cause with the mass murderers of the Alliance,” Zin added, almost seeming to spit the word “Alliance.” “You can have no clearer sign that they have betrayed you and left your families unprotected against the warmongering Alliance and its human tools. Did the Alliance prisoners on your unit make promises to you? You know what the word of the Alliance is worth! Nothing! Your only chance is to obey my directions now. Take action against your false leaders and the Alliance ghouls among you. Destroy them, and you will be welcomed back into the arms of the Syndicate, you and your families once more protected by the Syndicate! Act now! Comply! For the people! Zin, out.”
Hearing Marphissa burst into sardonic laughter as the message ended, Geary looked back at her. “You don’t think he’s sincere, Kommodor?” he said, making sure the question clearly sounded sarcastic.
“No.” Marphissa’s laughter turned into a scowl. “They never change. Even while he’s trying to convince those workers to revolt against their leaders, he drops in a threat to their families at the end!”
“Will any of those, um, workers believe him, though?” Desjani asked.
“Of course not,” Marphissa said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “They know they’ve already committed unforgivable crimes against the Syndicate, and they’ve been lied to by the Syndicate all of their lives. Even if they have regrets at this time, they know better than to expect mercy if they surrender.”
“The offer might cause some tension on Michael Geary’s ship, though,” Desjani said. “The former prisoners from the Alliance might worry that the Syndics who’ve been helping them will listen to that offer.”
“Yes,” Kommodor Marphissa said, frowning. “But they have come this far. They must have worked out means to cooperate.”
“I hope you’re right,” Geary said. The
y were so close to meeting up with Corsair, and yet still so very far away. In less than a hour Michael’s lone ship would be attacked by three battle cruisers, five heavy cruisers, and seven Hunter-Killers. And all he would be able to do was watch.
Just as he had when Repulse was destroyed. The image in his memory kept coming back to torment him.
“Should I try to tell him what to do?” Geary muttered. He knew micromanaging a combat encounter from light minutes away was a recipe for disaster, but guilt was causing him to second-guess everything.
“No,” Desjani said in a low voice. “Admiral, your grandnephew Michael never bought into the myth of Black Jack, including the heroic charges into the teeth of the enemy. He won’t do that now, if only because he’ll want to emphasize that he may be a Geary, but he’s not Black Jack.”
“Neither am I,” Geary said, gazing at his display where the other warships were growing steadily closer to each other. “So you’re saying he’ll fight smart to spite me?”
“It’s what he tried to do before,” she said. “Sometimes even smart commanders have no good choices, like you at Grendel, and like Michael when Repulse was lost. Trust him, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain Desjani. I will.”
He still felt vast relief when the moment came at which the Syndics could no longer get past his own ships, and his entire formation swung onto a new vector aimed at intercepting what would hopefully still be a running fight when he got there.
“The Syndics know they have to kill Michael’s ship fast, before we can arrive,” Geary said. “They’ll try to hit him hard on their first firing runs.”
“Michael will know that,” Desjani said. “Hopefully it’ll help him predict their moves. We’ll be there in thirty-five minutes.”
“Admiral, we’re receiving a message from CEO Grandon.”
Geary watched an image of the Syndic CEO appear. Grandon looked just as arrogant, and just as confident, which tended to confirm Kommodor Marphissa’s assessment that he’d never faced real-world challenges before. “Because the Syndicate Worlds strives for peace and the well-being of all,” Grandon began, “I am taking the time to issue you another warning. Cease interference in the internal affairs of the Syndicate Worlds. If you persist in aggressive actions in violation of the peace treaty between our peoples, I will not be responsible for the subsequent loss of life. Forthepeople, Grandon, out.”
Desjani shook her head. “He really seems to believe that. Is he just an idjit or does he know something we don’t?”
“He may have guessed that our orders say not to fire the first shot at any Syndics we encounter,” Geary said. “But I have proof that Alliance personnel are aboard Corsair because of the transmission from that other Syndic commander. If they fire on Michael’s ship, a ship full of escaped prisoners from an undeclared location, prisoners who weren’t released as called for by the treaty, that will be the Syndicate Worlds firing the first shots at Alliance personnel. I’ll be legally permitted to retaliate with appropriate force.”
But he was also legally required to try to avoid that outcome, and he didn’t want a fight that might result in Corsair being destroyed. He touched his comm controls to send a response. “CEO Grandon, this is Admiral Geary. I am aware that there are Alliance personnel aboard the ship you are attempting to intercept. I will take all necessary actions to protect them if they are fired upon. This is not an internal matter for the Syndicate Worlds. I strongly advise you to reconsider your threatening actions. I repeat, I will act to protect the Alliance personnel aboard that ship if they are attacked. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”
He didn’t expect CEO Grandon to reply or to change his plans. Geary touched another control to speak to his own ships. “All units in Zebra One are to assume full combat readiness in five minutes.”
Despite his wish that he could do more, he couldn’t even plan what to do when he finally reached the Syndic warships. His actions would depend on exactly how the Syndics attacked Michael’s ship and how Michael maneuvered in response to that.
He sat gazing intently at his display, the bridge around him silent as everyone focused their attention on the battle about to begin. The information he was seeing was still about a minute old as light crossed the gap between where Dauntless was and where Michael’s ship was about to face a fight for survival.
The Syndic flotilla most recently arrived from Kukai would intercept Michael’s ship a short time before the Syndic ships under CEO Grandon. As that moment neared, thrusters fired on Corsair, pitching the battle cruiser over to face the enemy. Corsair was still moving just as fast, but nearly backward now, her heaviest shields and armament directed against the attack.
Geary realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for the moment when Corsair would face more than two-to-one odds as the Syndic battle cruisers and accompanying heavy cruisers raked the lone ship. It would be a valiant (and hopeless) defense, with the outcome sure to be far worse for Corsair.
“Corsair has lit off main propulsion drives,” Lieutenant Yuon called out. “Maximum thrust.”
“I hope his inertial dampers can handle that stress,” Desjani murmured.
“He must be redlining them,” Kommodor Marphissa said. “If those dampers were made by a contractor who cut corners that ship is going to come apart any moment now.”
With Corsair’s propulsion units roaring at full power the battle cruiser’s velocity was dropping fast. The oncoming Syndic flotilla, aiming at the point where Corsair would’ve been if she hadn’t begun braking and too close to make any but the tiniest shift in its own vector, tore past ahead of where Corsair now was. With Corsair out of range of both hell lances and grapeshot, the Syndics volleyed out missiles that strove to come around hard enough to hit their target. Several of the missiles came apart under the stress, but the survivors accelerated toward Corsair.
Corsair had abruptly shut off its main propulsion, though, flipping around and to the side to face the second oncoming Syndicate flotilla, main drives lighting off again as the ship lined up. As the missiles tried to adjust their vectors to get back on collision courses with Corsair, the battle cruiser’s hell lances fired, picking off missiles as they struggled to compensate for the movement of the ship. No other type of ship could have managed the maneuver, but the immense thrust-to-mass ratio on a battle cruiser could pull it off.
Unable to dodge again in time as the second Syndic flotilla swept in to contact, Corsair kept on reaccelerating on her new vector. Her bow faced the attack by a single battle cruiser, two heavy cruisers, and seven small Hunter-Killers.
CEO Grandon’s ships hurled out missiles, then hell lance fire and grapeshot as the ships raced past each other in the blink of an eye. Corsair fired back, but only with hell lances.
“Corsair concentrated fire on one of the heavy cruisers and was able to inflict minor damage,” Lieutenant Castries reported. “Corsair took significant hull damage. Estimate she’s lost two hell lance batteries. Her forward shields were knocked down and are rebuilding slowly.”
“What about propulsion damage?” Geary asked, surprised at how unemotional his voice sounded.
“Half of his main drives have ceased putting out thrust, Admiral. There’s a strong chance he’s suffered damage to maneuvering thrusters as well.”
The first Syndic flotilla was whipping around in a vast turn to try to engage Corsair once more before Geary’s ships reached the fight, while the second flotilla had gone into a long climb up and over to hit Corsair again as quickly as possible.
Corsair was coming around as well, but more slowly, turning to head toward Geary’s oncoming force. “Looks like he lost a lot of thrusters,” Desjani muttered. “Admiral, we can’t get to him before the stronger flotilla hits him again.”
“We’ll take out CEO Grandon first, then,” Geary said, once more surprised that neither tension nor despair could be heard in his voic
e. “All units in Zebra One, this is Admiral Geary, immediate execute come starboard zero one three degrees, down zero two degrees. All battle cruisers are to concentrate fire on the enemy battle cruiser. Heavy cruisers and destroyers engage the enemy heavy cruisers.” That would leave the Hunter-Killers free, but they could do little damage in a short time against Corsair.
For an instant he felt the strangeness of this, that in a time of supposed peace he was once again battling an enemy. Would the still-deadly legacy of the long war ever go to the final end it so richly deserved?
And then he was focused on the engagement again, watching, planning, and waiting. He didn’t spare any part of his attention for praying that Michael’s ship would survive, because it was too late for prayer now.
Corsair swung sluggishly about to alter vector as the stronger Syndic flotilla closed for the kill. “His forward shields are still short of maximum strength,” Lieutenant Castries reported.
He’d have to watch it again, Geary thought despairingly. Have to watch Michael’s ship be destroyed while he was too far off to help.
But as the two Syndic battle cruisers and three heavy cruisers swept into their final approach, all of Corsair’s main propulsion drives flared to life, her maneuvering thrusters all firing as well to pitch her onto a different vector.
Their firing run thrown off once more, this time by Corsair’s unexpected agility, the Syndic flotilla fired a barrage of hell lances at long range, scoring a few hits on Corsair’s amidships shields. More missiles were launched as well, leaping toward Corsair.
Tanya Desjani bared her teeth. “He faked them out, using the wounded bird trick.”
That trick wouldn’t have been enough to save Michael’s ship for long if help hadn’t been close. Not with the other Syndic flotilla moments away from another attack. However, as the new volley of missiles homed in on Corsair, Geary’s formation whipped through CEO Grandon’s flotilla, which had held its own vector, trying to reach Corsair for another attack, but three seconds short of its goal when the Alliance battle cruisers threw everything they had at CEO Grandon’s flagship.
Boundless Page 36