Lost Fleet 4 - Valiant Read online

  His frown deepened. “I hate to waste a couple of more capital ships just because those three battleships might encounter problems.”

  “If the wreck of Audacious does hold prisoners who need to be liberated,” Desjani pointed out, “they’ll need all the shuttles they can get to transfer them off, and ships nearby big enough to hold the liberated prisoners at least temporarily.”

  “Good point.” But that still left the problem of two capital-ship commanders who wouldn’t be thrilled to be told to stay back with the auxiliaries. Who might find ways to avoid following his orders, and if they were doing that to race into battle, most of their fellow commanders wouldn’t condemn them for it or approve of Geary raising hell with them for abandoning their escort duty. The doctrine of all-out attack was still too thoroughly engrained in the fleet. He glanced back to where Co-President Rione was sitting, watching events with an unreadable expression. “Madam Co-President, I’d appreciate your advice on how to phrase some orders—”

  “I heard you.” Rione broke in. “Thank you for deigning to include me in your discussions.” She paused just long enough for that to sink in. “You’re sending these ships to ensure our own people, recently taken prisoner, are liberated and brought to safety. If any Syndic warships get through to the space near what’s left of Audacious, they could disrupt that action, or even cause some of those prisoners to be killed. What more justification do you need to offer? What more honorable task can a ship be assigned than ensuring our people are safely recovered?”

  Geary nodded. “Very well put, Madam Co-President.” That left the question of who to send. He ran his eyes across the display, trying to decide who could be trusted and who wouldn’t take exaggerated offense at what Rione had pointed out was indeed a highly honorable assignment even if it wasn’t in the front of the engagement. He’d already heard indirectly that some officers were regarded as his favorites, and it wouldn’t do to reinforce that impression even if it was in many ways true. He did like certain commanding officers because they were capable as well as aggressive, smart as well as brave, loyal to their duties to the Alliance rather than to political games meant to advance their careers. Captain Cresida, for example . . .

  Whose battle cruiser Furious along with Implacable were the last surviving ships of the Fifth Battle Cruiser Division. And he needed two ships. “I’ll send Cresida. Her ship and Implacable.”

  Desjani’s eyebrows shot up, then hastily lowered again. “She’s used to being in the thick of battle.”

  “Exactly. She’s proven her ability to carry out this task.”

  “I’m glad I’m not the one who’ll be telling her that, sir,” Desjani responded dryly.

  “We’re almost a light-minute away from Furious now. That ought to be outside the blast radius,” Geary noted. Desjani grinned.

  He changed the plan, let Desjani see it again for a sanity check, then transmitted the changes. On the heels of that, he called Furious. “Captain Cresida, I’m giving Furious and Implacable the most important job in the fleet. I want you to make sure our imprisoned personnel, and our auxiliaries, are well protected.”

  Geary barely heard Desjani’s low murmur. “Tell her that you’re counting on her.” She saw his reaction. “It’s true. Say it. Sir.”

  The exchange had taken only a couple of seconds. Geary continued the same transmission. “I’m counting on you, Captain Cresida.” It felt absolutely shameless to use that on Cresida. But it was true. Desjani was right about that.

  Cresida’s reply took a little over two minutes, given the distance between her ship and Dauntless. To Geary’s surprise, Cresida sounded not angry but both pleased and determined. “Yes, sir. Furious and Implacable won’t let our imprisoned comrades down, and won’t let you down.”

  Geary stole a glance at Desjani, who was apparently absorbed in studying her display. Desjani had been giving advice that way almost from the first time he’d met her, Geary realized. Maybe she believed the living stars themselves had sent him, but if she thought there was something Geary needed to know, she’d tell him and keep repeating it until he paid attention. Just as importantly, Desjani wasn’t blindly accepting his plans, instead telling him what she thought needed to be changed. He wondered now if she ever had shown total acceptance of his plans, or if her unquestioning faith in his mission had never gotten in the way of telling him when she thought something should be done differently. “Thank you, Captain Desjani.”

  She glanced his way and nodded with a slight smile. “Captain Cresida needs to be handled just so, sir.”

  “Just keep giving me advice when I need it.”

  This time Desjani looked surprised at the statement. “That’s my job, sir. Though if I may say so, you take it much better than Admiral Bloch ever did.”

  He checked the time. Still no sign of the Syndic pursuit force and still over an hour left before the Syndic Casualty Flotilla was overhauled. This was going to be a long day no matter what happened.

  “Captain!” a watch-stander called to Desjani. “We’ve spotted escape pods leaving the repair ships in the Casualty Flotilla.”

  “What?” Geary thought he and Desjani had said it simultaneously. But the display was indeed showing a swarm of escape pods leaving the Syndic repair ships. “They’re punching out of their ships this early?”

  Desjani was frowning, apparently trying to figure out what kind of Syndic trick this was. “Did they figure out how badly we need what’s in the bunkers on those repair ships? Are they going to blow up all of them before we even get within a couple of light-minutes?” she wondered.

  Before Geary could answer, his internal communications circuit buzzed urgently. Lieutenant Iger in the intelligence section. It was very unusual to hear from him during a battle since his work dealt with longer-term collection and analysis, everything of tactical importance being automatically shown on the displays before Geary and other commanders. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  Iger’s head within the small pop-up window inclined diffidently. “Sorry to bother you during an action, sir, but—”

  “Just tell me, Lieutenant. What is it?”

  The intelligence officer looked startled, then spoke quickly. “We’ve confirmed these are standard Syndic repair ships.”

  Geary waited, but like the engineers on his own auxiliaries, the intelligence officer apparently expected him to just know things sometimes. “Meaning what? Why are they abandoning ship so early?”

  “Because they’re not military, sir.”

  “They’re not military?”

  Desjani, overhearing, gave Geary a surprised look.

  “Yes, sir,” Iger responded. “Syndic major logistics support isn’t handled by combat arms. It’s handled by a different directorate and contracted out to corporations. Our fleet never sees repair ships like these because they’re never supposed to go where they can encounter Alliance warships.”

  “They’re civilian?” Geary demanded.

  “Yes, sir. Military-related civilian, of course. Totally legitimate targets. But no military personnel aboard, no combat training, no defenses. That’s why they’re abandoning ship. They and their corporations aren’t paid to engage in combat. From what we know, the crews would get in trouble if their actions somehow caused us to inflict more damage on those repair ships. So they’re punching out now.”

  “Wait a minute. They want to ensure as little damage as possible is done to those repair ships?” Iger nodded vigorously. “We know that?”

  “Yes, sir. From captured records and prisoner interrogations. Most Syndic fleet personnel don’t like the civilian contract people because they don’t think they get proper support from them. The civilian contractors are also paid considerably more, which is probably the real main point of contention as far as Syndic military personnel are concerned. ”

  “I’ll be damned.” Geary thought for a moment. “Then they won’t have rigged any traps on those repair ships?”

  Iger hesitated, clearly thinking, looked sideways as someone else in the intelligence section spoke to him, then nodded again. “I’d regard that as very unlikely, sir. They’d lose their jobs if their corporations thought they had caused more damage to those ships. It’s safe to assume they’ve shut down all systems and left the repair ships to coast in the hope that we’ll ignore them or just toss a few shots at them as we cruise past.”

  “They’re going to be disappointed. Thanks, Lieutenant. Excellent work by you and your people.”

  As Lieutenant Iger’s image vanished, Geary turned to speak to both Desjani and Rione, then repeated what the intelligence officer had said. “You’ve never seen these sorts of repair ships?” he asked Desjani.

  She shook her head. “Only in briefing documents on Syndic ship types. No, I’ve never encountered one and don’t think I ever ran a simulation with one in it, either.”

  Turning back to Rione, Geary addressed her. “Does what Lieutenant Iger said make sense to you?”

  “As a civilian?” she asked sardonically.

  “Yes.” More importantly, as a civilian after a century of war. Geary’s last experience with other civilians had been almost one hundred years ago, before the war with the Syndicate Worlds began. He’d seen what a century of war had done to the officers and sailors of the fleet, and wondered how it had changed civilians.

  Rione gazed at him, seeming to guess the reasons for his question. “Certainly. As much as they’d like their military forces to triumph, as much as they’ve grown to hate the enemy, civilians are still not prepared to stand up to battle. Even if some individuals in those crews were ready to resist, they would have been carried away by the mass of their fellows who only wanted to avoid dying.” Rione caught the expression on Desjani’s face. “They’re not cowards, ” she added in a ve
ry cold voice. “Someone who isn’t trained or mentally toughened for combat isn’t going to stand and fight the way military fighting forces are. They’re surely smart enough to know they don’t stand a chance against us.”

  Desjani shrugged, her eyes on Geary. “Neither do those Syndic warships heading to intercept this fleet.”

  But Geary shook his head at her. “Staying with those ships when they lack any combat training or capability wouldn’t accomplish anything. You or I would at least ensure they weren’t captured intact if we had any suspicion the enemy intended doing that, but dying to no purpose wouldn’t serve our cause.” He jerked his chin toward the display, which showed the two Syndic battleships charging toward them, still hours away from contact. “The Syndic commander is throwing away those ships and crews because he or she can, because those crews will follow senseless orders, even though it’s a total waste. May the living stars help me if I ever decide to waste lives like that just because I can.”

  Desjani frowned slightly, her eyes averted as she thought. It had to be a difficult concept for someone raised and trained to believe that honor demanded fighting to the death. For someone who already knew she would do that if necessary. But then she had made that commitment before joining the fleet and lived with it since then. “Yes, sir,” she responded eventually. “I see your point. We expect obedience from those under us, and in return they deserve respect for their willingness to follow orders to the death.”

  “Exactly.” She’d actually said it better than he had. He remembered Desjani once telling him that she’d been offered a job at her uncle’s literary agency before she joined the fleet, and once again wondered what Desjani would have been like if she hadn’t been born and brought up amidst a war already ancient to the Alliance.

  Rione spoke again, her tone genuinely curious. “There’s something I don’t understand here. You watched the crews of the crippled Syndic warships we’ve already overrun hastily abandoning their own ships, yet didn’t seem to find it dishonorable the way you did the civilians fleeing their ships. Why?”

  Desjani grimaced but didn’t turn or answer, so Geary did. “Because the warship crews waited until the last minute to abandon ship,” he explained.

  Co-President Rione eyed him for a moment as if judging his seriousness. “Even though the action was inevitable, the fact that they waited made it better than if they’d left as soon as it was certain they couldn’t escape our pursuit. That makes it all right?”

  “Well . . . yeah.” Geary looked toward Desjani, but she didn’t seem interested in helping explain anything to Victoria Rione. “Something might happen. Something unexpected. Maybe we’ll veer off. Maybe some big Syndic force will appear behind us at the jump point or come in through the hypernet gate again and cause us to run. Maybe the ships headed for them in particular will have something happen and drop their pursuit. Maybe they’ll get another weapon working and be able to put up a decent fight. Maybe a lot of things. So you wait as long as possible, just in case.”

  “Just in case a miracle happens?” Rione asked.

  “Pretty much. Yeah. Because they do. Sometimes. If you keep fighting or remain ready to fight even after it seems hopeless.”

  She frowned at him, then lowered her eyes for a few moments in thought. “Yes,” Rione finally said. “Sometimes miracles happen. As long as you don’t give up while any hope remains. I do understand. But at what point does the hope for a miracle change from inspirational motivation to suicidal insanity?”

  How to answer that? “It depends,” Geary finally stated.

  Co-President Rione’s eyes rose and locked on his. “And it’s the job of the commander to judge the situation and decide whether continuing to hope for a miracle is sensible or insane?”

  He didn’t like thinking of it in those terms, but . . . “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Rione’s smile appeared to be half-mocking. “Like coming back to Lakota instead of running through Ixion or trying to stand and fight there? I hope your judgment remains as sound in the future, Captain Geary. You seem to have a talent for sniffing out miracles.”

  He nodded back, unsure of how to respond to that, then faced forward again, noticing as he did so that Desjani seemed slightly baffled. “What’s the matter?”

  Captain Desjani shook her head. “Nothing, sir.”

  “Like hell. Is there something I ought to know?”

  “No, sir,” Desjani repeated, then twisted her mouth in annoyance before answering in a low voice. “I’m just . . . surprised to find myself agreeing with Co-President Rione on anything, sir.”

  “You’re both crazy.”

  Desjani grinned.

  “Update on Syndic warships in the Casualty Flotilla,” the operations watch-stander announced.

  Geary checked his display. Of the four Syndic battleships undergoing extensive repairs, only one showed signs of powering up any of its weaponry. The others apparently had their systems so badly damaged or extensively dismantled for repairs that they couldn’t be activated on such short notice. Out of the seven battle cruisers in the formation, only two revealed indications that some of their hell-lance batteries were being charged. The twelve heavy cruisers seemed marginally better off, with five showing weapons activity.

  One of the Syndic battle cruisers, its propulsion system less badly damaged than that of its fellows, had begun accelerating away at a painfully slow rate. “Running?” Desjani wondered, her fingers dancing across controls as she checked something. “Not on that vector. He’s trying to join with the other damaged ships forming up ahead of the Casualty Flotilla.”

  The Syndics were obviously still hoping for their own miracle that would keep the Alliance fleet from annihilating all of the major Syndic combatants currently within reach.

  An alert pulsed on his display, drawing Geary’s attention. “The automated combat system is recommending we volley rocks at the Casualty Flotilla.”

  “Kinetic projectiles at ships? Those ships are too badly damaged to maneuver much, but it wouldn’t take much to avoid rocks thrown at them from any significant distance.” Desjani made a face, checking the recommendation herself. “We’d have to throw a lot of our supply of rocks out there to form a pattern that would have a decent probability of scoring any hits.”

  “Doesn’t seem worth it to me,” Geary agreed. “Hey, what about Audacious?”

  “The recommended pattern would avoid hitting the hulk of Audacious, as long as Audacious didn’t maneuver. Which she could if her tugs yank her off her current course, and walk right into one of our rocks.” Desjani shook her head. “And what if the debris from some of the hits on the warships struck the repair ships that we want to loot? Only an artificial intelligence would think this was a good option. I’d give the combat system a ‘disregard option’ instead of just a ‘recommendation noted.’ Otherwise, it’ll keep trying to refine the recommendation and annoying you with updated alerts about it.”

  “Good idea.” He thumbed the right commands, hoping the disregard order would work since automated systems sometimes seemed able to ignore such commands and kept insistently pushing options they had already been told to forget about. Another case of automated systems acting a little too human at times. “Any idea what made that big hole in Audacious? It looks like something blew inside.”

  Desjani only glanced at her display. “That was her null-field projector self-destructing. The Syndics don’t have null-field weapons yet, so there’s a multiple-redundant self-destruct capability. Just like for Alliance hypernet keys. We don’t want them to fall into enemy hands, either.”

  “Have any of them ever self-destructed when they weren’t supposed to?”

  “Not that I’ve heard of. The weapons-design bureau assured us that it can’t possibly happen, so we don’t worry about it.” Desjani spoke with apparent total seriousness, but couldn’t quite keep from smiling at the actual absurdity of her statement. While declarations from the weapons design bureau were supposed to be nonfiction, sailors soon learned from experience to treat them all as fantasy until confirmed by real-world events.

  Geary barely managed not to laugh. “Of course not.” His alert chimed to mark the arrival of Colonel Carabali’s plan. He skimmed through it, stealing occasional looks at the display to make sure nothing unexpected was happening.