This time he looked at her suspiciously. “How do you know…? Never mind. You’re right. We’re even.”
“I’m not keeping count.”
“The hell you aren’t.” Geary let his hand complete the motion to his comm controls this time. “All units in the First Fleet, this is Admiral Geary. At time two zero, all units come up zero eight zero degrees, come starboard three five degrees, assume Formation Armadillo as attached to this transmission. Geary, out.”
The fleet would simultaneously swing back up and slightly to one side, aiming for the next jump point, while also compressing down into the Armadillo. It was the sort of maneuver involving hundreds of ships that humans would have required days to work out, but the fleet’s maneuvering systems could come up with a coordinated solution within seconds.
The questions began coming in less than a minute later. Geary squinted at the list of incoming transmissions. Almost every senior officer in the fleet was calling, and it didn’t take a genius to know what they were calling about.
Desjani glanced toward his comm inbox, gave him an “I told you so” look, then returned to studying her own display.
I thought I was done with this kind of thing, Geary thought crossly. Being open to advice and input is one thing. Having my decisions questioned is another.
His hand hovered over the comm controls, but something made him look over toward Desjani. She was giving him a sidelong look that spoke volumes. Are you sure that you want to do that, Admiral?
Geary lowered his hand, thinking. No one is challenging my right to command. Not anymore. At least, no one is doing that openly. They are expressing concern about my proposed course of action. These are good officers for the most part. They’ve followed me and done their jobs well. I need to respect their concerns instead of telling them to shut up and do what they’re told. Taking a deep breath, he hit the fleet-broadcast command that would send his words to every commanding officer in the First Fleet.
“This is Admiral Geary. I understand that there is some concern regarding our currently ordered movements. Be assured that the purpose of the new formation is to confound any Syndic plans against us here at Simur. After ensuring that the Syndics cannot successfully attack us, we will analyze the situation here and determine just what the Syndic plans are. Then we will change our formation and take any measures required not only to frustrate those plans but also respond as appropriate. Geary, out.”
He paused, thinking again. “Madam Emissary, would you contact the senior Syndic CEO in this star system and register a formal complaint about aggression by those warships against an Alliance fleet?”
Rione raised her eyebrows at him. “You know what the answer will be. The senior Syndic CEO will claim those warships are not Syndic.”
Geary nodded. “Yes, but those warships are also claiming to be under the control of this star system. That would make that senior CEO responsible regardless. I want to see what they say about that.”
“An interesting suggestion, Admiral.” Rione beckoned to Charban. “Let’s go send that message. We’ll talk about how to word it on the way to the conference room.”
But she paused as the specter missiles from Tulev’s battle cruisers began impacting on the derelicts. Some of the explosions were appropriate to the impact, the warheads of the missiles combining with the kinetic energy of the missile itself to blow apart ships that were already rickety.
Of the seven derelicts hit, however, four blew apart with much greater force than missile warhead and impact could explain. Geary watched the spread of shrapnel and high-velocity particles from the explosions, feeling cold satisfaction at having guessed right. Those derelicts had been weapons, planted across the path of the Alliance fleet, kept on station by maneuvering capabilities that mines could not match.
Rione sketched a brief, half-mocking salute Geary’s way, then left the bridge with Charban.
Geary kept his eyes on his display as the fleet coalesced into the tight sphere of the Armadillo formation. The four groups of new Syndic warships, apparently uncertain as to what the Alliance ships were doing, had all swung off from intercepts and were proceeding to positions at different points around the Alliance formation. He had a mental image of frustrated mosquitoes swarming around an impenetrable mesh of netting.
No. That’s wrong. That image assumes that those Syndic warships aren’t still a danger. I can’t be sure of that. I don’t know what else the Syndics might pull now that they can’t fight me on conventional terms. They used suicide attacks, a boarding operation, and a minefield at Sobek. That’s what we know of. What else is here?
“So far they haven’t repeated themselves,” Desjani mused.
Had he spoken that last aloud or was Tanya reading his mind again? “What else can those warships do?” Geary asked.
“Distract us?” She asked that as alerts sounded.
The vectors of all four groups of warships were changing as they swung around and accelerated toward different parts of the Alliance formation.
“They shouldn’t be able to damage the hide of the Alliance Armadillo!” Desjani observed with overstated bravado. Muffled laughter sounded from the back of the bridge as assorted lieutenants and other watch-standers absorbed their captain’s joke.
Geary ignored the mockery as he ran a couple of quick simulations. “Even if they go onto suicide vectors, we’ve got a tight enough formation with enough firepower on the outside to be able to blow them apart before they penetrate our, uh, formation.” He had almost said “hide,” which would have only reinforced Desjani’s joke.
As it was, he had a bad feeling that he would be hearing comments about the Alliance Armadillo for years to come.
Despite his certainty that the defensive arrangement of ships would frustrate the Syndic attackers, Geary still felt tense as the four groups of ships swung in against different parts of the outer shell of the Alliance formation. The Syndics bored in, entering the Alliance missile envelopes, and specters began leaping from the nearest Alliance warships.
But the Syndics pitched around and climbed or dove away almost as soon as they had entered missile range. Geary watched, angry, as dozens of missiles were wasted, their targets zooming out of range. “I should have guessed they’d do something like that.”
“They won’t get away with it again,” Desjani assured him. “I recommend you tell the ships to hold missile fire until the Syndics are too close to evade out of range.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” He transmitted the orders, glaring at his display. It wasn’t a stalemate. As long as the Alliance ships kept moving, they would reach the next jump point and leave Simur. But it felt like a stalemate as the Syndic warships bent their vectors back toward the Alliance formation again. “They may not be able to hurt us, but they’ve got the initiative. I don’t want to give them time to think up something.”
“Hmmm,” Desjani murmured. She hesitated as a thought struck her, then leaned toward her display, watching intently as she entered commands. “They’re using automated maneuvering. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be sure?” Geary asked.
“The movements are extremely precise. Every ship moves at the exact same moment, and every maneuver is identical for every ship. Do a replay of their tracks when those four groups last came at us, then overlay the tracks of all four groups on each other.”