Imperfect Sword

Chapter Seven

Iceni shook her head, maintaining an impassive expression despite the riot of emotions inside her. “Ulindi is a trap? Why should I believe you?”

“Because—” Boyens broke off and laughed in a sad way. “Because I want to work the angles, the options, Gwen. That’s me, right? And I can’t work options if there aren’t any options. You see? Right now, and as far as I can tell, you and Artur Drakon are the only alternative to the Syndicate that has a chance out here. There are other star systems revolting against the Syndicate in other nearby regions, but I don’t know the people or the exact situations in those places, and a lot of them are just going to hell as different factions fight for control. If the Syndicate regains enough strength, it will roll up each of those other star systems. If the Syndicate just keeps trying to regain control of them, the back-and-forth struggles are likely to devastate those places no matter who ultimately wins.”

Boyens spread his hands and smiled ruefully. “I don’t want to gain temporary power over ruins. Hell, I don’t want ruins. I won’t lie. I want power, I want a secure position of authority. Look around, Gwen. Where do you see security and stability? Here. Not on Prime, where the knives are out, the CEOs are busy stabbing their rivals, and the snakes are getting rid of anyone who looks strong enough to threaten them. Imagine having Happy Hua at your back, ready to strike if you fail too badly or if you succeed too well. I don’t know how you and Artur figured out how to work together, but between that, breaking the snakes’ power here, Black Jack’s support, and the forces you’ve managed to accumulate, you’ve got a real chance.”

“You’re acting purely out of self-interest, then?” Iceni asked. “You believe that we represent your best chance to get what you want?”

“Damn right.”

“That I can believe.” Iceni paused to think through her options.

“You’ve got to send a ship after your attack force,” Boyens urged. “Recall them before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late. By the time any warning I send could reach Ulindi, the ground forces will have already landed. I need to send some reinforcements to even the odds.”

“Reinforcements?” Boyens looked around as if he could see through the walls confining him. “What have you got that could make a difference?”

“I’m going to find out,” Iceni said, hoping that she could come up with something big enough to make a difference. “Damn you! If Artur Drakon dies because you withheld this information until now, I promise you that you will die as well, and it will not be an easy death!”

The training area was well out in the country, far from the city, along routes normally traveled only by military vehicles. It had taken Roh Morgan far too long to cross that distance without being spotted, only to encounter a newly expanded and reinforced sensor field surrounding the training area. She was tempted to turn back at that point but realized that she had to know what all of those sensors were protecting. It had to be something significant.

The sensors were the latest models, the most sensitive yet created, but that was all to the good as far as Morgan was concerned. The more sensitive the sensor, the more it had to be adjusted and calibrated to ignore the presence and movements of native animals, birds, and insects as well as the movements of vegetation in the wind. With the right clothing and the right ways of moving, someone could mimic those native creatures and natural movements enough to keep the sensors from alerting.

The downside was that such travel was painstakingly slow, and this sensor field unusually wide.

By the time Morgan reached a vantage point looking down onto the training area, another several hours had been wasted. She raised the cam-nocs she had lifted from ground forces headquarters, using the same deliberate, careful movements that had brought her this far, zooming in the focus on the terrain below her.

The tents and equipment on the field were well camouflaged. Morgan knew she wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t known exactly what to look for.

Her curses stayed silent inside her, but didn’t lack for force. There was a lot of equipment down there, equipment that couldn’t be accounted for by the files that Haris’s snakes had maintained.

A shuttle dropped down so quietly that she knew it must be a full-stealth model. As it came to rest, a woman came out of a tent and hurried to meet it. Morgan zoomed in closer, identifying the woman’s suit as that of a sub-CEO. A sub-CEO implied this was a brigade-sized force…

The shuttle ramp dropped, and a man and woman came walking down it, the pair surrounded by several bodyguards. Morgan grimly focused on them, seeing what the presence of the bodyguards had already telegraphed.

A CEO, and another sub-CEO, both of their suits carrying the minor ornamentations that marked them as serving with ground forces.

That meant there could be an entire division of ground forces hidden here and in other training areas around the planet. A division that wasn’t in any of the snake files. Morgan respected the snakes too much to think that this could have been done under their noses, especially in this star system, where the snakes had insinuated themselves even more deeply into the ground forces than usual.

Haris hadn’t revolted. He hadn’t unilaterally declared himself Supreme CEO of this star system. It had all been theater, a trick to make it seem that Haris was no longer loyal to the Syndicate and could no longer be sure of Syndicate backing.

The show had to have a purpose, and this was it. They must have learned an attack force was coming from Midway, they had brought in this division only a few days beforehand, using shuttle drills as a cover for landing all of the soldiers and equipment, and the comm silencing period was designed to ensure no possible hint of the extra troops’ presence leaked out.

General Drakon must already be on the way. Must already be within a day or two of landing, expecting to encounter one understrength brigade of regular ground forces, not that brigade plus a division more. With the comm stand-down still in effect, trying to get a warning out would be a lot harder once she got to a transmitter, and just getting to a transmitter would take a while.

She felt a surge of fury, a desire to fling herself down the slope, to kill until she reached a transmitter. But she knew how likely that was to fail. If she died before she reached a means of sending a warning to General Drakon, then there would be no one to warn him at all.

And there was another mission that must be completed to ensure that Drakon survived. If she didn’t ensure that some critical control lines remained disabled in ways that weren’t apparent to the snakes, General Drakon would not survive the victory that he might still be able to achieve despite the dramatic change in odds.

Morgan gritted her teeth, calmed herself with an effort of will that left her gasping, then began slowly, methodically sneaking back out of the sensor field.

Life on the crowded freighters was so unpleasant that Drakon found himself looking forward to combat as an alternative to staying in the cramped accommodations, breathing air fragrant with the smells of too many men and women who hadn’t bathed in too long. Right now he was crammed into his grandly named stateroom, which in any surface dwelling would have been classified as a closet, along with Colonel Conner Gaiene. “What did you need to talk about?”

Gaiene made a face. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Seriously?” Drakon asked.

Gaiene’s expression shifted into a grin. “I still do that on occasion. Not every brain cell is dead, yet, and I have done this sort of thing a few times.” The smile faded, replaced by that haunted look from eyes that had seen too much on too many battlefields. “The plan calls for using the warships to conduct a preliminary bombardment.”

“Right,” Drakon said. “The cruisers don’t carry nearly as many bombardment projectiles as battleships or battle cruisers do, but they have enough to cause some real damage to one big target.”

“So I see. We’re going to turn snake headquarters on Ulindi into a big crater made up of a lot of little craters. But the snakes will have an alternate command post.”

“Of course they will,” Drakon agreed.

“How do we keep them from setting off the buried nukes? We are assuming that the snakes have buried nukes under the cities and big towns of this planet, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we’re assuming that,” Drakon said. “Colonel Morgan will make sure the alternate command post can’t send the detonation orders.”

Gaiene bent a skeptical look on Drakon. “How is she going to do that all by herself? It would be a tough job for a company of special forces troops.”

“You know Morgan.”

“I certainly do,” Gaiene said in a tone of voice that held great depths of meaning. “Though never in any physical sense, I assure you.”

“Then you know that you don’t ask her how and you don’t tell her how,” Drakon said. “You just tell her what you want done and pull the trigger.”

“As smart weapons go, she is in a class by herself,” Gaiene admitted. “But…”

“But, what? If you’ve got concerns, I want to hear them, Conner.”

“There was that prolonged comm silence.”

Drakon nodded, his expression grim. “The timing was suspicious, but it started well before we got here, and it ended yesterday. Now, of course, there’s a lot of talk about our being here, but that’s to be expected.”

“We didn’t catch any unguarded comms from before we arrived,” Gaiene pointed out. “Those usually provide important information.”

“I agree. And Colonel Kai has raised the same concern. Do you believe that period of comm silence justifies calling off the assault?” He waited for the answer, knowing that Gaiene would tell him whatever Gaiene believed and not what he thought Drakon might want to hear.

Gaiene paused for a long moment, his eyes averted, the pose almost that of a man listening to something he couldn’t quite make out. “No. Based on what we know, I believe that we should go ahead with the assault.”

“Is something else bothering you?”

Another pause, that same attitude of almost-listening, then Gaiene shrugged. “I don’t know, General. Just a feeling. Have I ever thanked you? For overlooking my failings in the last few years?”

“You’ve earned your keep, Conner,” Drakon said, eyeing Gaiene. He knew Gaiene could get moody at times, especially the last few years, but this felt different. “You’re sure there’s nothing specific bothering you?”

Gaiene smiled. “Just a feeling,” he repeated. “I’ve been running away from the past for a long time. I… almost feel that it will catch up to me here.” He laughed. “I’m sure Lara hasn’t been happy with me.”

Drakon didn’t know what to say for a moment. “You haven’t said Lara’s name for a long time.”

“She’s been far away. She’s closer now.” Gaiene looked straight at Drakon, his eyes dark. “Thank you, General.”

“Can you lead your troops into this fight?” Drakon asked. Gaiene had acted fey before, but not like this.

“Yes, sir. All the way. Not a problem.” Gaiene smiled once more and suddenly seemed his usual self again. “I feel better than I have in a long time. Is drop time still in fourteen hours?”

“Yes. The Kommodor will let me know when we’re exactly two hours out. I’ll pass word to you and Kai then, so you can get your troops prepared for the assault. The shuttle pilots have already gone over their birds and can be ready to go in half an hour after I alert them. The bombardment will go out twenty minutes before we launch the first wave.”

Gaiene looked at one bulkhead, his eyes obviously not seeing the bare metal but something from the past, his expression wistful and distressed in equal measure. “Do you remember how many times we’ve watched assault forces coming? Sitting there on the surface, you and me and the rest of us, seeing any friendly mobile forces around trying to fight off the attackers, watching the enemy assault transports get closer and closer as each day, then each hour goes by? Watching the bombardment launch and bracing ourselves for the impacts as the ground shook and shook and men and women died? And then the shuttles coming down through our defensive fire, dropping off loads of Alliance ground forces or maybe Alliance Marines, and the fights that took forever and no time at all and never seemed to stop. Or all the times we were the ones dropping into the fight, knowing that if we failed in the assault, no one might be able to get us out of there again. How many friends have we watched die, you and I?”

“I stopped thinking about that a long time ago,” Drakon said, his voice soft.

“You only pretended to stop thinking about it,” Gaiene corrected him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Conner, it’s different now. We’re not fighting for the Syndicate, we’ll take as many prisoners as are willing to surrender, and when this is over, we’ll go back to Midway and only fight to defend ourselves or to help others who need our assistance.”

Gaiene nodded. “It’s different. Yes. We know that. But the weapons we fire don’t know that, General. All they know is how to kill, and they don’t care why the triggers are pulled or what the target is.” He saluted before leaving.

Drakon stared at the hatch after it closed, trying to remember if Conner Gaiene had ever before saluted him when they were in private.

Iceni was sitting in her office, clasped hands before her mouth, brooding, when an urgent alert sounded. Muttering a curse, Iceni spun to look at her display. What she saw made her anger change to a jolt of anxiety.

“An enigma ship arrived at the jump point from Pele,” her watch-center supervisor reported anxiously.

She took a deep breath, calming herself and focusing her attention. “Only one? Is he a scout for a larger force?” The enigma had shown up more than four and a half hours ago. But watching its movements still created a sense of urgency in Iceni.

“Madam President, we cannot determine— He altered vector. A major change.”

Iceni watched the movements of the enigma, movements made hours ago, the alien ship whipping around at an amazing rate. If only our ships could move like that! “He’s… heading back,” she said.

Then he was gone.

“The enigma ship has jumped back to Pele,” the supervisor reported. “It must have been a surveillance mission, Madam President, taking a snapshot of everything here, then getting out before we could react.”

“He could have hung around the jump point for hours and been safe from any reaction by us,” Iceni said. “We don’t have the luxury of stationing warships near that jump point.”

The supervisor hesitated. “He very likely had firm orders to leave immediately.”

“Why?” Iceni asked. She had learned the importance of encouraging her workers to share information instead of jumping down their throats whenever they volunteered something. That sort of thing was hard for the workers to get used to after their experience with the shut-up-and-do-it attitude of the Syndicate.

The watch-center supervisor spoke with care, feeling out each word. “We have seen numerous indications that the enigmas have a Syndicate-type level of discipline. The enigma commanders who sent this ship could not know whether we would have somebody stationed at the jump point, guarding it, so they may well have given that ship orders to return to Pele immediately after making their observations rather than giving its commander discretion on how long to stay and observe. It had plenty of time to see every ship here and what else was happening inside this star system.”

“And so accomplished its mission with minimum risk of failure,” Iceni said. “You are probably correct. Thank you.”

She ended the call and stared glumly at the display, wishing that the enigmas had timed their reconnaissance mission for a different period. As it was, they would have seen precious few defensive assets in this star system, and the last extra thing she needed now was for the enigmas to launch another assault.

Morgan had made a mistake, allowed herself to be spotted while killing that last sentry because she hadn’t realized there would be a tertiary backup sensor monitoring the sentinel. Tertiary sensors were not standard in Syndicate practice for this layer of security in this kind of building, raising the question of just how many other additional security measures might be ahead of her. Alarm sirens split the predawn night as Morgan spent two seconds deciding whether to press on and try to reach the transmitter in this building. But, even if she managed to get past the alerted security, there did not seem any chance of having the time to get a warning message out to the general before the transmitter was disabled and overwhelming force cornered her.

Fading backward, Morgan moved like a ghost toward the access she had opened through the fences protecting the building. Extra lights were on, sweeping the cleared area between the building and the fences for anyone whose heat signature was blocked well enough to remain undetected by the infrared sensors. An aerospace craft swung into sight overhead, sliding over the building, weapons tracking in search of targets.

Someone had taken some very extensive extra measures to protect those comm terminals powerful enough to punch a signal through the wide-scale jamming that had replaced the comm stand-down. These extra security measures, too, had not been in the snake files. Someone had hidden them from not only spies like Morgan but from most of the snakes in Ulindi as well.

Morgan rarely felt any trace of uncertainty, but as she added things up, a very ugly picture had begun to appear. Ulindi had looked weak even when closely examined. An inviting target with, in Supreme CEO Haris, the sort of ruler who would motivate the leaders of Midway to strike at him.

But hidden beneath the surface had been another Ulindi, and what had been happening lately, the comm stand-down and the jamming and this extra security, implied that someone was trying to ensure that their prey did not see or hear anything before an ambush was sprung.

These thoughts ran through her mind as Morgan took careful aim on the hovering aerospace craft and put two shots into the spot where the lateral controls were least protected on the side facing her.

The warbird’s weapons swung toward the place where the shots had been fired, but Morgan was no longer there. As the aerospace craft twisted in place to head for the spot, it lurched wildly as half of its lateral controls failed. At low altitude, the craft couldn’t recover before sliding close enough to the building to clip it.

Morgan huddled against the building, just around the corner from where the aerospace craft was noisily self-destructing. The instant the wave of concussion, heat, and debris was past, Morgan ran, heading for the path she had cut through the fences. Behind her, part of the building’s wall collapsed in a prolonged rumble punctuated by the thuds of large pieces of the warbird crashing into the soil all around.

She made it to the fence as shots finally erupted, tearing through the air around her while Morgan raced through the access path she had painstakingly created to get inside the complex. She had just cleared the last fence when a shot slammed into her right arm from close range. Morgan rolled with the blow, spinning to a halt on the ground with her pistol up and aimed at the guard who had waited to see if she was dead before he fired again. He never got the chance as Morgan put a shot between his eyes.

Forcing herself to her feet despite the pain of her wound, Morgan put away her pistol, grabbed the guard’s body, and held it before her as she moved toward the perimeter road through the confusion.

Two more guards were standing by a vehicle, looking around anxiously, their weapons ready. “This guy got hit!” Morgan yelled at them as she carried the dead guard toward them at a trot.

“How bad?” one of guards asked, lowering his weapon and taking a step to meet her.

“Hey—!” the second guard started to say as he got a better look at her.

Morgan dropped her burden, yanking out the dead guard’s own sidearm as the body fell, and shot both guards. It took only a couple of seconds to find the key fob in one of the guard’s pockets, start the vehicle, and block the remote override routines in its control software. Morgan hauled one of the bodies into the vehicle and tore off down the road.

There was a checkpoint, of course, but once again Morgan yelled, “I got a wounded sentry here!” and raced through it.

That bought her enough time to clear the checkpoint, but shots pursued the vehicle as Morgan floored the accelerator.

She held on for about a kilometer, activating the vehicle’s autodrive so she could apply a field bandage from the vehicle’s first-aid kit to her arm. Morgan set the vehicle controls to continue at maximum safe speed down the road, then rolled out and down the embankment, slamming the door shut behind her as she dropped away.

It hurt all the way down the slope, especially every time she rolled over her wounded arm.

Morgan stayed in place just long enough to rebandage her injury to stop the bleeding. She headed off at right angles to the frenzy around the complex, knowing that sensors and searchers would be looking for someone heading directly away from it. By sunrise she was still moving but barely conscious as she stumbled through an alley in the town where she had prepared an emergency hidy-hole sometime before.

She found the hidden access, pulled aside the concealing cover, slid inside the cramped space, and barely managed to get the cover back into position. Her confused thoughts were working mainly on instinct at that point, unable to formulate any clear plans for what to do next. Morgan passed out to the rhythm of her mind repeating the same words. Got to warn him… got to warn him… got to warn…

“In another fifteen minutes, there will be two hours’ travel time remaining to the inhabited planet,” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla reported.

Marphissa scowled at her display. The freighters were braking their velocity at the best rate they could manage, which didn’t say much. The planet was only about four light-minutes away now, so close that the images she was seeing of Supreme CEO Haris’s heavy cruiser and light cruiser were getting close to real time.

As of four minutes ago, neither cruiser had moved from its orbit about the planet.

Diaz knew what was bothering her. “Why don’t they do something? Maybe they are planning to surrender to us.”

“Half of their crews are probably snakes!” Marphissa objected. “They would have to be carrying out their orders from Haris right up until they mutinied, and why would Haris have them just sit in orbit instead of sending them to try to hit our freighters? They should have come after us days ago. It’s almost time to notify General Drakon to prepare for his landings, and those damned cruisers are still just sitting there! I don’t like this. It’s like they’re waiting for something.”

“What could they be waiting for?”

“If I knew that—”

Urgent alerts blared, cutting off Marphissa’s comment as she gazed at the warning symbols springing to life on her display.

“Kommodor!” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla called out, his voice shaking. “We have just seen more mobile forces, at the closest gas giant.”

“They’ve been behind it since we got here,” Diaz said, studying his display with an appalled expression. “They must have known we were coming and stayed positioned behind the gas giant to hide from us until now. How did they know and where did Haris get more ships?”

“Spies must be how. They knew not only that we were coming but about when we would get here. They must have a good inside source at Midway.” Marphissa stared at her display as the sensors on her warships combined their readings and produced an assessment. One battleship. One heavy cruiser. Three Hunter-Killers. She didn’t need the sensors to confirm the identity of the warships. “It’s Happy Hua’s flotilla. The one that escaped from Midway and bombarded Kane.”

Kapitan Diaz shook his head, bewildered. “Happy Hua’s flotilla? But they’re Syndicate. They should have attacked Haris.”

“They didn’t.” The only possible reason struck her. “Haris is still Syndicate. He must be. That’s the only reason why CEO Boucher wouldn’t have attacked him.”

“But,” Diaz gasped, still trying to recover from the surprise, “why hide out there? Why not hit us earlier? They’re far enough away now that we can outrun them if they come after us.”

“Not all of us can run fast enough,” Marphissa said, her voice grim. “They waited until we were deep into this star system and a long ways from any of the jump points. Have your specialists run some vectors. Tell me if there is any way for us to get our freighters out of this star system before that battleship can catch them.”

Diaz’s eyes went from her to his display, his face stricken. He gave the order to his specialists, then leaned close to Marphissa so he could speak in a very low voice. “I don’t need to run vectors. That battleship is in position to block any escape run by our freighters unless they head for the jump point for Kiribati.”

“That’s my assessment also,” Marphissa said. “I was hoping I was wrong.”

Less than a minute later, Czilla’s report confirmed her fears. “The only route the freighters could take that would avoid the battleship is heading across the star system and taking the jump point to Kiribati in Syndicate-controlled space, Kommodor. Any attempt to return to Midway or reach the jump point for Maui has a one hundred percent chance of intercept by the Syndicate battleship.”

“If only these freighters were faster!” Diaz snarled.

“They’re not,” Marphissa said. “You might as well wish that we had a couple of battleships of our own, or that Black Jack would show up in the nick of time again.” She gestured toward the comms specialist. “I need to speak with General Drakon immediately.”

It only took a few seconds for Drakon to reply. He did not look happy. “The crew of this freighter is really upset. Are they right? Is that a Syndicate battleship?”

“Yes. Commanded by the same snake CEO who attacked Midway and bombarded Kane.” Marphissa wasn’t about to sugarcoat the situation. “They were waiting for us.”

“No matter what else happens, we need to make sure that information gets back to Midway so that President Iceni will know we have a serious internal security problem. What are our options?”

“Option one,” Marphissa said, “the freighters continue on to the main inhabited world and drop you off before the battleship can get here to stop you. That gives you a fighting chance on the ground, but after that you’ll have to worry about a battleship overhead. Option two, all of the freighters continue onward at the best acceleration they can manage, all the way to the jump point for Kiribati, and jump for that star, hoping that the Syndicate doesn’t have anything waiting to ambush you at Kiribati.”

Drakon shook his head. “These freighters have limited life support, food, and water for the numbers of soldiers they are carrying. We have enough to get back to Midway if the landing was aborted, but traveling across the rest of the width of this star system followed by a jump for Kiribati would put us close to exhaustion of everything, even if there weren’t more Syndicate warships waiting there.”

“You could try doubling back, jumping back for Ulindi right after arriving at Kiribati, hoping that all of the Syndicate warships followed you to Kiribati, and that they wouldn’t get there until those clumsy freighters managed to get turned around. But you’d have to put your people on starvation rations starting right now, and even then you might not make it back before they were exhausted.”

She hadn’t worked much with Drakon in the past, and was impressed now when he accepted her assessment without demanding she come up with something easier even if it was also impossible. “What about heading back for Midway, or Maui?” Drakon asked.

“Neither of those are really an option. The battleship will catch you and blow those freighters apart. There’s no uncertainty. The freighters can’t outrun the battleship if they head for those jump points, and my ships cannot stop the battleship from destroying them.”

“All right.” Drakon rubbed his chin, eyeing her. “It sounds to me, Kommodor, like our best option is going ahead with the landing. As you said, that gives us a fighting chance, which we will not have otherwise.”

“That would be my recommendation, General. You may have to hold guns on the freighter crews to keep them from running before all of your forces are off-loaded. My ships will carry out the planned bombardment of targets on the surface, but after that you will be on your own. I will do everything I can to distract and engage and maybe even damage that battleship, but I cannot promise anything.”

Drakon smiled dourly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We had a lot more warships available when that battleship attacked Midway, and they couldn’t stop it. Kommodor, from what I have seen of you, and from what both President Iceni and Captain Bradamont have said, we couldn’t ask for a better mobile forces officer to guard our backs against that battleship. I know that you will do everything possible with the forces available to you.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” It was not the response she had expected when she had called Drakon with such horrible news.

“We’ll get down to the surface, take out the Syndicate ground forces, then scatter,” Drakon continued. “If you can keep that battleship occupied for a little while, we’ll get dispersed enough that it will have to worry about bombarding every square meter of that planet in order to get us.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll keep it busy for as long as possible. My flotilla will escort the freighters until we are close enough to the planet to be sure you can off-load without Haris’s warships getting to you. We will protect you to the utmost of our ability. For the people!” Marphissa sat rigidly straight and saluted Drakon.

Drakon smiled again, returning the salute. “For the people,” he echoed. “If the worst happens here, don’t get your forces wiped out fighting a hopeless battle. Get back to Midway and help President Iceni. She can hold out, Midway can hold out, even if we lose all the ground forces here. As long as people like you stick by her.”

He ended the transmission, leaving Marphissa gazing at nothing and blinking away tears. Damn. And to think I didn’t trust him. “Kapitan Diaz.”

“Yes, Kommodor?”

“Let’s put our heads together. If there is any way to slow down that battleship with what we’ve got, we need to figure it out. We have to give those ground forces all the time we can.”

“Kommodor…” Diaz didn’t look at her as he spoke again in a barely audible voice. “There’s no possible way. They’re doomed.”

“No,” Marphissa said, surprised by the fierceness in her voice. “We were doomed when Manticore’s propulsion controls were shot out. Have you forgotten already? But we found a way, and they may find a way. We do not quit, we do not give up, we give them everything that we can, so if they do die on that planet, it will not be because we did not do everything that human skill and courage and effort can achieve. Do you hear me?” She had raised her voice so that it rang across the bridge. “Everyone. Do you hear me? We do not give up, we do not falter, while one of our soldiers still lives and fights on the surface of that planet!”

A ragged chorus of agreement and cheers answered her words, Diaz also raising his head and nodding to her firmly. “Comm specialist,” he said, “send a vid of the Kommodor’s last statement to the other units. Your orders, Kommodor?”

What were her orders? Marphissa wondered. It was one thing to make a sweeping statement about giving the effort her all, but another thing to figure out what specific steps to take.

Marphissa focused on the nearest enemies, those on the planet and those in Haris’s two cruisers. “Since we’re going ahead with the assault on the planet, we’ll accompany the freighters for another half hour. At that point, our warships will break away from the freighters earlier than planned and move to engage Haris’s heavy cruiser and light cruiser. We’ll launch the bombardment as scheduled, but from farther out than planned.”

“We’ll get scatter,” Diaz warned. “It’s not just the greater distance from the planet when we launch. We’ll also be dropping the projectiles at a lower angle through the atmosphere. We can’t have pinpoint precision under those circumstances.”

Marphissa scowled, studying the bombardment plan. It did call for aiming at specific portions of the snake headquarters complex, but Diaz was right that the odds of a perfect hit were low when they had to launch under difficult circumstances. Under the Syndicate, no one would have been allowed to worry about rounds that missed the target and struck in the surrounding city, but she did not want to take even one step back onto that road. “There might be an answer. Show me a circular error probable for a bombardment round aimed at the center of the snake complex under the new range and atmospheric entry angle we’ll be using.”

Diaz gestured to his weapons specialist, who worked frantically for a few moments.

A circle appeared on Marphissa’s image of the bombardment targets. A circle centered on the snake headquarters complex and extending about four meters beyond its boundaries into the wide-open area that surrounded the complex. “There’s our answer. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.”

“Kommodor,” a puzzled Diaz asked, “I’m sorry, but I do not—”

“We aim every round at the center of the complex! Most will hit near there. The rest should scatter randomly within this error circle, meaning they will hit everywhere inside the complex.”

“But we can’t be sure they’ll hit everywhere,” Diaz objected. “It’s statistical and random. One little patch may take a dozen hits, and another nearby area might be untouched.”

“I know that.” Marphissa kept her voice level with effort. “It’s still our best option because aiming for specific points will face the same circular error probable for every shot, only centered wherever that particular projectile was aimed. And any spot that doesn’t take a direct hit but sustains a lot of near misses is still going to take some damage.”

Diaz grimaced, rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, then nodded. “Yes, Kommodor. It is our best option if we want to do as much damage to the complex as possible under the launch conditions we will face.”

“I want to hold back two projectiles on each heavy cruiser and one on each light cruiser. The ground forces might need a few more rounds dropped in their support. Everything else will go into the bombardment. Have your specialists modify it and let me know as soon as the revised plan is ready.”

“Yes, Kommodor.”

Marphissa looked to Haris’s cruisers next. She had been expecting them to finally strike at the freighters just before the ground forces began landing, but that had been before the Syndicate flotilla appeared. It was now clear that the cruisers had been kept on a short leash to avoid scaring off the Midway flotilla before it was too deeply committed to the operation to be able to get the ground forces and freighters out of this star system safely.

If she went after them once the ground forces were down, they would run. She could chase them all over this star system, driving down the fuel reserves on all of her ships, and have no hope of catching them. But if she didn’t go after them… “Do you know what they’re planning on doing?” she asked Diaz, then answered her own question. “They’re going to wait to see if we go after them. If we do, they’ll run and frustrate us while forcing us to use up our fuel cells. If we don’t, they’ll charge through our formation just as the freighters are dropping shuttles, creating an awful mess and potentially taking out a lot of ground forces while they are helpless.”

Diaz looked from her to his display, then made a helpless gesture. “I agree with your assessment, Kommodor. What will you do, then?”

“I’m going to do neither, Kapitan,” Marphissa announced. “I’m not going to chase them all over this star system, and I’m not going to sit here waiting for them.”

“But…”

“We’re going to lunge at them as if beginning an all-out pursuit, then, after they take off to avoid us, brake to stay near the freighters.” Marphissa shook her head. “No. Not all of us. We’re going to need all of our fuel reserves. I’m going to leave the Hunter-Killers positioned above the ground forces’ landing site. They can’t do much there, but they’ll be able to provide some close support, and they’ll be conserving their fuel cells.”

“Then what?” Diaz asked. “After we abort our pursuit of Haris’s cruisers?”

“I expect the freighters to scatter once the last ground forces have left them. At that point, Manticore and Gryphon will shadow Haris’s heavy cruiser, which I expect will try to pick off the scattered freighters one by one. Hawk and Eagle will shadow Haris’s light cruiser. Maybe one of Haris’s ships will make a mistake.”

Diaz grimaced. “What about the Syndicate flotilla? What about the battleship?”

Marphissa blew out a long breath before replying. “I am hoping that, as we screen the freighters and try to take out Haris’s cruisers, one of us will come up with some brilliant and effective means of dealing with that battleship.”

“Kommodor—”

“Dammit, I know! Unless we come up with some other ideas, the only thing we can do is stay out of the engagement envelopes of the weapons on that battleship. CEO Boucher is not going to cut loose her remaining escorts. Syndicate regulations call for battleships to have escorts. She won’t go against Syndicate policy.”

Diaz gave her a grim look. “If she decides it is necessary, Happy Hua will bombard the hell out of that planet in order to get as many of our ground forces as possible.”

“I know.” Marphissa left it at that. She had nothing else to offer, no ideas to present. Instead, she touched her comm controls. “Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, Defender, you are designated flotilla three. Sentinel is senior ship for flotilla three. Proceed to a position in low orbit above the ground forces’ landing area and provide close support.”

She reached out to her display, designating Haris’s heavy cruiser and light cruiser as the objectives for intercept, then waited the fraction of a second for the Manticore’s automated systems to come up with the necessary maneuvers. “Manticore, Gryphon, Hawk, Eagle, immediate execute come port two three degrees, down zero two degrees, accelerate to point two light speed.”

The four Midway cruisers slewed about under the push of their maneuvering thrusters, their bows swinging past the vector that would have brought them into position above the planet. As they steadied out on the new course their main propulsion units lit off, pushing the warships onto a path that would bring them into firing range of Haris’s warships in twenty minutes.

Marphissa tapped her display a few more times, confirming that the weapons specialists on Manticore had adapted the bombardment plan to the new positions and vectors from which it would be fired. “Manticore, Gryphon, Hawk, Eagle. Launch bombardment using modified plan echo as your ships cross the firing point on your vectors.”

For better or for worse, the battle for Ulindi had begun.