Geary fought down a blistering reply. “The appropriate times will be when I issue the orders, Paladin.” He shook his head, addressing Desjani again. “Midea’s not that stupid, is she?”
“I don’t think so,” Desjani temporized.
“Then surely she knows I have to base my actions on what the enemy is doing. I won’t know when to do what until we get closer to actual contact and see what formation they’re in and how fast they’re coming at us and any last-minute maneuvers they try.”
“That’s true, sir, but I only know that because you’ve taught me that,” Desjani replied. “Our tactics were much simpler before you assumed command.”
That was something of an understatement. With trained and experienced officer ranks repeatedly decimated by battles that increasingly resembled bloodbaths, knowledge of how to maneuver effectively, taking into account distances and time delays, had died along with those officers. After a hundred years, Geary had found tactics consisted of charging straight at the enemy again and again until one side or the other had been bludgeoned into retreat or destruction. “I hope you’re not the only one learning that,” he commented to Desjani.
“Of course not, sir.”
Geary’s eyes went back to the display, where Syndic Flotilla Bravo kept accelerating toward the Alliance fleet. Hopefully they hadn’t learned too much from watching Geary’s own battles.
As time passed it became apparent that while the Syndics might have learned a few things, they hadn’t learned enough. They were coming at the Alliance fleet in the same rectangular box formation they’d been in since arriving in Lakota, one broad side now facing toward the Alliance as if the box were sliding sideways and down at the opposing fleet.
Geary nodded, then spotted Desjani and the watch-standers within his view smiling as they watched him. That was when he realized he was smiling, too. “We’ll hold this formation. No, I’ll make one modification.”
The Alliance fleet had remained in the five coin-shaped subformations in which it had entered Lakota. Currently, the five coins all faced forward, aimed just as surely for the Syndic formation as the enemy was aimed at them, though Formation Echo Five Five with the damaged ships and auxiliaries was behind the main body in Echo Five Four. Geary played with the maneuvering systems to come up with the right orders, then transmitted them. “All units in Echo Five Five, increase speed to merge with Formation Echo Five Four and take up positions as indicated.”
Desjani looked intrigued, checking the orders herself. “You’re sort of tacking the old Five Five onto the bottom edge of Five Four.”
“Right.”
“With the Seventh Battleship Division sticking below the edge of the old Five Four?” She smiled again. “I can’t wait to see.”
With over an hour remaining until contact, the fleets now about ten light-minutes apart, Geary watched the ships of Echo Five Five slowly overtake their comrades and assume their new positions. He knew the Syndics would see the maneuver in about ten minutes and probably not worry about it since it still left the main part of the Alliance fleet and the single Syndic box on collision courses.
With half an hour until contact, Geary called out orders again. “Formations Echo Five Two and Echo Five Three”—the two coins to either side of the main body—“pivot formations on vertical axis at nine zero degrees at time five zero. Simultaneously roll formations on horizontal axis four five degrees so leading edges of your formations slant toward Echo Five Four.” He couldn’t have given those orders if human beings had been required to execute them. It would have simply been too complex to have that many ships swinging to new positions in both vertical and horizontal axes at the same time, even though the maneuvering systems were providing an exact picture of what Geary intended to every ship.
“Formations Echo Five One and Echo Five Four,” Geary continued, “pivot formations nine zero degrees forward on horizontal axis at time five zero.”
The maneuvers unfolded like an insanely complicated dance number in three dimensions, the coins of the Alliance formation shifting so that the leading thin edges of the vanguard and the main body were now pointing at the oncoming Syndics, while the two flanking formations hung off to either side, their thin edges also forward but sloping away from the main body. There was a weird beauty to watching hundreds of ships engage in such an intricate ballet.
The maneuvers were completed at fifteen minutes to contact. “The Syndics will be seeing us changing formation,” Desjani noted.
“Right.” Geary sat watching the display, gauging the right moment for the next move. The Syndics would see whatever he did at increasingly smaller delays, so he had to time his moves to make the Syndics react at the right times and in the wrong ways. They’d watch his first movements and not see any need to alter their course or formation, but that was about to change.
The Syndics were now only two light-minutes away, a little over twelve minutes to contact at a combined closing speed of point one seven light speed. “All units, increase speed to point one light at time one five. All formations, alter base course up zero five degrees at time one five.”
The Alliance fleet accelerated and pivoted, the coins angling upward. Desjani grinned fiercely. “I get it! But their commander will see it in time to react.”
“I’m counting on that.” Geary paused, counting the seconds, depending on instinct for the timing of the next maneuver, watching the position of the Syndics relative to his own ships. “All formations, alter base course up one zero degrees, starboard zero one degrees at time one nine.”
A minute later, Geary saw the Syndics reacting to his earlier maneuvers, pivoting their box upward so it would meet the Alliance main body head-on again, the two groups of ships passing through each other at a slight angle and a combined closing speed now just under point two light. Any faster, and relativistic distortion would seriously complicate the task of seeing where the enemy ships actually were, but below point two light, the combat systems should be able to compensate for velocities that literally changed the way the outside universe looked.
Unfortunately for the Syndics, Geary’s second turn upward changed the angle of the engagement again, this time so close to the time of contact that the Syndic commander didn’t have time to see it and react. “All units, engage by squadrons and divisions with grapeshot and hell lances as targets enter engagement envelopes. Open fire when in range.” The order would ensure each squadron or division of Alliance ships targeted a single enemy ship, increasing the chances of getting enough hits during the instant in which the fleets would be close enough to fire on each other.
“Enemy missiles and grapeshot passing beneath us,” the combat system watch reported gleefully as the Syndic barrage went where the Alliance fleet had been expected to be.
Then the moment of contact came and passed. If human eyes and nervous systems were able to react quickly enough to perceive it, they would have seen the flat surfaces of the Alliance vanguard and main body coins sliding across the upper leading edge of the Syndic box, concentrating their fire repeatedly on the relatively few enemy ships in and near the edge, while the Syndics could only fire back with those same few ships at Alliance warships flashing past one after another. The coins of the flanking Alliance formations slid past the upper corners of the Syndic box, their fire even more concentrated.
Geary blinked, wondering if he’d actually seen the flashes of weapons fire and hits during the fraction of a second in which the automated combat systems aimed and fired far faster than humans could have managed. As the Syndics and Alliance warships diverged now, watch-standers were calling out damage assessments on the enemy and damage reports from Alliance ships.