“Agreed, but they can’t possibly know what’s gone on here. I’m fairly confident they’ll arrive as one group, and I doubt if they’ll be prepared for an immediate fight. Their orders will be to back up the governor, theoretically an easy task.”
Trexler spoke. “Are you confident enough to position our forces based on that assumption?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t know where they’ll appear.”
M’Coda continued the briefing. “The only solution is to position ourselves inside them. If we scatter our slow ships, they might never make it to the battle. We’ll have to plan on something close to the planet.”
“I concur. I want all of our ships in a position to engage. We’ll have to cover as many eventualities as we can. Let’s get everyone moving.”
Chandrajuski had sixteen squadrons, ten of them slow and six of them fast. The fast ships were instructed to keep their beacons off until further notice. The slow ships would keep their beacons on, enticing the enemy to them.
The sixteen ships formed into four battle groups of four squadrons each and were dispatched to enter the system as close-in as they could, each battle group equidistant from the planet and from each other. In just a few hours, ships began emerging from hyperspace one after the other, grouping up, and speeding toward Orion III.
One day later, thirty-seven Rebel squadrons dropped from hyperspace in the far fringes of the system, all grouped together.
Chandrajuski, Trexler, and M’Coda studied the display intently, M’Coda’s whiskers getting a hard workout.
“Our ships are not in good position for this. It will definitely be a close-in battle,” Chandrajuski announced, “and the odds are not in our favor. It’s 37 against 16.”
“We’ve handled worse in training, and it might not be so bad if we can stretch out the timing,” Trexler replied, working the controls of the holographic display intently. He began moving ships around, exploring possibilities.
M’Coda caught on quickly and helped. “I think it will work, Ray,” he announced after a few minutes. “The Rebels were lazy. They exited hyper quite far out. We have time to reposition and keep the battle away from the planet.”
“Unless more come in from a different direction,” Trexler worried aloud.
M’Coda’s upper hands started a rapid preening of his whiskers. “If more come, the numbers will be against us. We’ll have to consider retreat. Remember, we have another battle to fight after this one. We cannot afford to lose all our forces in this first encounter.”
They both turned to Chandrajuski. It was his call. “I might be the grand admiral, but I don’t feel so grand all of a sudden,” he said.
His great eyes blinked, then he made his decision. “We cannot lose Aldebaran Sector. Retreat will remain an option, but we fight here until and unless the odds worsen.” He stared at them in contemplation. “They’ve sent thirty-seven squadrons. What an odd number.”
M’Coda’s whiskers began a new, refreshing preening. “Could it be all they have?” he asked.
“They certainly have many thousands of squadrons, but they might be limited in the number of trained Chessori crews, just as we are limited with our Terran crews.”
He began issuing orders to his squadrons. Soon, three of the four battle groups turned out-system. The 12 squadrons would travel outward for a day, jump into hyperspace, then jump back in as close as they could. They would be only slightly behind the Rebels when they returned. The four remaining squadrons would have to slow down the Rebel approach so the rest of the fleet could catch up.
Trexler began playing with the controls again while Chandrajuski conferred with his battle groups. M’Coda stepped to his side. “What’s on your mind, Ray?”
“We need to slow them down. I’d like to throw a little confusion at them when the fighting starts.”
“How?”
“We don’t want to display our fast ship capabilities if we can avoid it. I’m not sure we can, but what if we have all of our fast ships flank their formation? Their beacons are off, so the Rebels probably won’t even know they’re here. They might notice our drive signatures, but not until we close in on them. What do you think?”
M’Coda’s upper hands moved to his antennae as he considered. “Those four squadrons in front of the Rebels are in for a bad time. Four against 37, it’s unthinkable. They need any help we can provide. Your plan will improve their numbers, though 10 against 37 is still unacceptable.”
“It’s the best we can do. Their job will be to slow down the attackers until our trailing squadrons catch-up. Then it will be barely more than two against one, very acceptable odds. I only hesitate because I hate to keep throwing changes at our guys. It makes us look like we don’t know what we’re doing.”
“Don’t worry. Chandrajuski is a master at this. Besides, we really don’t know what we’re doing. Battles on this scale have never been fought, and our men know it. They’ll see the power of this tactic and welcome it.”
A tightbeam transmission came to them from near the planet and was patched through to Trexler. Reba’s face filled the display. “Hey, what’s going on up there? Are you guys abandoning us?”
“Hi, Reba. How’s it going down there?”
“The city and space port are secure. We’re investigating other cities and ports to see if any Chessori remain. You can’t strand us, Ray.”
“I won’t. We’re just repositioning.”
She considered his words. “Oh. Sorry. The odds are pretty bad, ten against thirty-seven. I thought you might have decided to retreat.”
“You can’t see the whole picture from where you are. The odds are bad, but not that bad unless more Rebels show up. I’ll let you know if you need to leave in a hurry. Are you prepared to do that?”
“If we have to. We’d rather stay and fight. I’m preparing a reserve force here in case any of them make it past you.”
“Uh, say again?”
“Well, Korban has seven operational squadrons, and I have a lot of infantry guys that are excellent shots. It won’t take them all that long to get up to speed on the guns. I’m the only real pilot, but we’re cobbling some trainees together. We’re just manning the cruisers, not the smaller ships. It’s the best use of our resources.”
Trexler stared into her eyes for a time as his mind calculated. “You’re training Waverly’s guys to fly?”
“We are. It won’t be pretty, and it’s only a last ditch effort. We’re assigning three Rangers to act as one pilot. I’ll take one ship by myself.”
“How good are the gunners?”
“Fair, and getting better. They’re naturals for the job. And the port defenses are fully manned by our guys. They’ve already taken out two Chessori.”
Trexler pursed his lips and shook his head. “I should have given you a ship back on Earth. You’d earned it. I just wasn’t ready to give you up yet.”
Her dazzling smile lit up her face. “I’ll keep the seven I have if that’s okay with you.”
“Sorry, but I might take them away from you.” Her smile disappeared. Trexler leaned into the pick-up. “Reba, I have pilots, lots and lots of pilots. I can pull them from the fighters. I’d trade seven small fighters for seven cruisers any day.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course you can. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You have full Empire crews on board, right?”
“Yes… well… no. Three squadrons were pretty devastated internally when we cleared them of Chessori. The Chessori didn’t hesitate to kill regular crewmembers once the fighting started.”
“Are they operational?”
“Not against an Empire crew. Against a Chessori crew, they’ll be acceptable.”
“Get your ships started this way while I figure out what we’re going to do with them.”
“I sort of like the idea of a last line of defense, Ray.”
“So do I. We might turn you back, but there’s plenty of time for that. I need to slow these guys down, Reba. My ships that turned around are just repositioning. Do you understand my meaning?”