“Captain Smythe, you need to coax more acceleration out of your auxiliaries,” Geary ordered.
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Three bags full!” As Smythe ended his words, he saluted in a grand manner. “Request permission to jettison twenty metric tons of raw material from Tanuki, Kupua, Titan, and Domovoi.”
“Twenty metric tons?” By any measure, that was a lot.
“From each ship. Eighty tons total. It’s the sort of thing we can most easily find along the way, like raw iron. We can just rope an asteroid or two in another star system if you want us to break it down into usable form without slowing. But I can’t get any more acceleration out of my heaviest ships without lightening their mass.”
It didn’t leave him much choice. The acceleration rates for the four big auxiliaries weren’t fast enough, and if they were destroyed here, then those tons of raw materials wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Permission granted.”
“Do you want us to throw it at anything or anyone when we jettison it?” Smythe asked. “It could make quite a splash whenever it landed.”
“No. Just drop it in a safe orbit. We’re supposed to be trying to establish peaceful relations with the enigmas, and dropping eighty tons of raw metal on them probably wouldn’t further that goal.”
As Smythe’s image vanished, Desjani spoke in a low voice as if commenting on the weather. “You need to get some rest, Admiral.”
“While we’re facing the prospect of getting annihilated by that hypernet gate?”
“Yes. There’s nothing else we can do for a while, and you can monitor the fleet’s progress from your stateroom just as well as you can from here.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You look nervous.”
He was nervous, but he got the point. Everyone else on Dauntless would be watching him to see if he was calm or worried.
Geary stood up, moving casually. “I’m going down to my stateroom to eat something,” he told Desjani in a louder voice that carried easily across the bridge.
“What a good idea, Admiral,” she said. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
But he had barely made it down to his stateroom and checked the progress of Smythe’s auxiliaries when a call came in.
General Carabali made an apologetic grimace. “Sorry to bother you, Admiral, but I feel I should inform you that Admiral Chelak has been confined to his quarters aboard Haboob.”
“What did Chelak do?”
“He tried to pull rank on me and assume command of the Marine detachment aboard Haboob. Not too smart, really, since that’s two hundred Marines he would have had to convince to disregard my authority.”
Geary sighed. “Thank you for informing me.”
“It’s going to get worse, Admiral. They’re sitting on Haboob and Mistral with very little to do, and they’re the kind of people who are used to doing things and giving orders. I believe the only reason we haven’t had more trouble before now is that all of the former prisoners are still under the influence of long incarcerations in the Syndic labor camp, and some of them are also under the influence of truly impressive doses of medications prescribed by the fleet physicians.”
“Thank you, General. I’ll try to think of something to occupy their time.” After Carabali ended the call, Geary sat looking at nothing as he tried to come up with alternatives. I can’t assign them all to check out systems on Haboob and Mistral. Even if they’d accept that job, there are a bunch of them I can’t trust with that kind of access to critical systems.
Too bad they can’t help us with the aliens.
That thought didn’t fade, instead repeating itself. Why can’t they?
He spent a moment checking on how the auxiliaries and the rest of the fleet were doing, watching the tons of raw material jettisoned by Smythe’s ships floating away from the fleet like oddly angular asteroids.
Reassured that things were going as well as they could, Geary finally made a call to Mistral. During the brief and unpleasant meeting with the liberated prisoners, one of the freed admirals had quickly backed Geary and shown no support for Chelak. A check of that admiral’s record had shown solid service and ability, with enough ambition to drive him to high rank but no indications of political ambitions. He was someone with whom Geary realized he should have already spoken and given some responsibilities. Better late than never. “Admiral Lagemann.”
Lagemann gazed back at Geary. “What’s the occasion?”
“I was hoping that you and your fellow former prisoners would help with a very important task.”
Lagemann looked very skeptical. “I personally haven’t taken it badly that you haven’t been able to devote your time to holding our hands, but I also know there’s a pretty strict limit on the number of admirals and generals you need in command positions. I’d be glad of something important to do. We’ve been counting dust bunnies in the corners of the passageways for a while now, if you need a head count on them.”
“I don’t think dust bunnies are an endangered species, Admiral. You know that we’re inside space controlled by an intelligent, nonhuman species, one which so far has acted in a hostile manner. We have little data and little experience with them, but further armed encounters are a possibility at any time. You and your comrades may not have recent combat experience, but you have a lot of knowledge and practice in operating against the enemy. You also have new eyes to look at this problem, without any preconceptions the rest of us have already developed. What I would like is for you to examine what records we have, the materials we’ve received from the Syndics and our fleet’s records, and try to analyze how the aliens think and fight. What are they likely to do in a battle? Was the situation at Midway an anomaly or the way the aliens are likely to fight in the future? What other tactics might we expect from them?”
Admiral Lagemann was thinking, and nodded. “Not make-work after all? I can’t promise anything, but that’s not the point, is it? If we do come up with something useful, it could make a big difference in fighting these creatures. If we don’t, you’ve lost nothing.”
“Exactly. Are you willing to assist in this, Admiral?”
“Yes. And I know many of my comrades will as well.” Lagemann looked to the side, breathing deeply. “This has not been an easy role for us. It will mean a great deal to have the opportunity to make a difference again. May I ask one favor in return?”
“I can’t do much about the food on Mistral.”
Lagemann grinned. “After seventeen years of Syndic rations, even fleet food tastes good. No, what I want to ask for is the opportunity to talk with you some more, specifically about tactics. I and some of the others really want the chance to learn from you more about how you fought those engagements that broke the back of the Syndics. The ways our ancestors fought.”
“Of course, Admiral.” Geary felt a pang of guilt that he had been forced to warehouse so many capable senior officers on the assault transports along with the troublemakers. “I’ll arrange for all of the records I spoke of to be forwarded to Mistral for you. If anyone on Haboob wishes to assist as well, you’re authorized to share the records with them. Would you be willing to have a talk this evening?”
“That would be welcome.” Lagemann looked down at his hand, then awkwardly brought it up in a salute. “I understand this is the latest fashion in the fleet. We’ll see you this evening, Admiral.”
Geary returned the salute, smiling. Maybe someone did try to create problems by saddling me with all those senior officers. But that doesn’t mean I can’t find some ways to turn them into assets.