“All moths on combat alert,” Jedao said. Red light washed from all the terminal boundaries. He took the command chair and studied the scan readings while the webbing secured him. Khiruev took her place to the general’s right, feeling redundant.
“Oh, don’t look like that,” Jedao murmured. “I have every intention of making use of you.”
How serious was he? “If you want information from the Hafn,” Khiruev said, “now’s the time. It’s not any secret to them that they have an enemy swarm incoming. Assume they’ve spotted us and probe them for their capabilities.”
“Agreed,” Jedao said, half-smiling. “Communications, get me Commander Kavinte.”
That was the commander of Singe the Hour, lead bannermoth of Tactical Group Five. “I should warn you that she’s argumentative, sir,” Khiruev said.
“Yes, I saw that in her profile.”
“Singe the Hour responding, sir,” Communications said, and forwarded the call to Jedao’s terminal.
Commander Kavinte had an overly pretty face, all symmetry and graceful nuance, until you got to her eyes. The intimation of casual ruthlessness in her eyes reminded Khiruev of Jedao, now that she thought about it. “General,” Kavinte said.
“We have no idea how many Hafn are out there because their mothdrives fuck up our readings,” Jedao said with cheerful bluntness, “and for that matter who knows the range on their scan, either. Want to help me figure it out?”
“Sir,” Kavinte said crushingly, “you’re our general. You don’t have to put it to a vote. Just give the order already before the Hafn notice we’re dithering and call their friends.”
“Oh, I never put anything to votes,” Jedao said, “but your brain is a resource and I intend to use it as one. You want to prove to me how good Tactical Five is at Lexicon Secondary?”
Lexicon Primary referred to the formations that the Kel were benchmarked against in drill, and which they used in battle. Lexicon Secondary mostly contained formations that were of historical interest, or that were trotted out for colorful effects in parades and during celebrations. Kavinte had a standing interest in obscure formations. Khiruev had been guessing that that was why Jedao had singled her out.
“We’re Kel, sir,” Kavinte said. “We’ll execute whatever you have in mind.” There was more than a hint of challenge in her words.
“Good to know.” Jedao adjusted some figures on his tactical subdisplay, considered them, then looked up. “Tactical Five, assume formation Swallow Braves the Thorns. Once you’re in formation, approach the long axis of the outrider spindle exactly head-on until you’re at extreme scan range. Scoutmoth 7 will withdraw to—” He named the coordinates. “All other tactical groups, assume grand formation Harrower Hawk with forward central null and the command moth as primary pivot. Moth commanders acknowledge.”
The terminal lit up with acknowledgments in neat amber columns corresponding to the tactical groups and scoutmoth flights. Commander Janaia’s eyes were alight. She turned to her executive officer and began giving orders.
Khiruev wished she felt as sanguine. She was certain that Swallow Braves the Thorns was a test for the Hafn. It was a flashy parade formation from Lexicon Secondary, but if you didn’t see the disposition of the rear elements, it could be mistaken for Wave-Breaker from Lexicon Primary.
Tactical Five reported that it had reached extreme scan range and that the Hafn moths’ formants didn’t look any clearer, but the Hafn didn’t seem to be reacting, either.
Jedao tapped out a calculation. “General Jedao to Tactical Five. I want you to maintain formation and advance at 19% of your secondary drive. Alert me the moment you get a reaction, and also report your distance from their leading elements at that time.” To Khiruev, he said, “Odd that they’re just maintaining their distance. Can they not see Tactical Five, or is it a trap?”
Khiruev had her mind on something else. She had a clear view of Jedao’s calculation. One of the systems of modulo congruences that Jedao had asked the grid to solve for him was something that any first-year cadet should have been able to do in his head, by inspection. The general couldn’t—but now wasn’t the time to ask. Khiruev looked away and told herself that her unease was baseless, but she was honestly surprised that Jedao was weak in abstract algebra.
“Commander Janaia,” Jedao was saying, “I’ve forwarded you a series of waypoints. Advance, but keep Tactical Five within eighteen minutes of the swarm at current acceleration at all times.”
“Sir,” Janaia said, and gave the necessary orders to Navigation.
“Incoming from Commander Kavinte,” Communications said.
“Put her on,” Jedao said.
“General,” Kavinte said, “we got a reaction when our leading element tripped past forty-nine Hafn ayyan.” She gave the hexarchate distance conversion. A databurst accompanied the transmission with further details. “No attack still, but look at this—”
The close-up scan data showed the Hafn outrider positions relative to each other, stretched into the shape of a curving dish with Tactical Five’s axis of advance pointed straight at its center. Khiruev wasn’t a scan specialist, but she could tell that the formants were better defined than before, giving them a better idea of the individual outriders’ locations. Just as interestingly, Tactical Five had intercepted signals from a number of outriders. It didn’t take much triangulation to deduce the region of space those signals were aimed at.
“Forward transmissions to Intelligence,” Jedao said, “although I don’t expect fast results. Commander Kavinte, I have another formation for you. Try Every Mirror Is a Flatterer and approach the outrider dish’s focal point.”
“Sir,” Khiruev said, “that will allow the Hafn units to focus fire on Tactical Five. If they have real guns”—Hafn units had respectable invariant weaponry, last she’d checked—“it could get ugly.”
“I understand the concern,” Jedao said, “but here’s the thing. You notice how they’ve been moving?” He played back some of the observations. “I don’t think those outriders are human. I think they’re geese.”
Khiruev caught Janaia’s eye when Jedao returned his attention to the scan record. Is he out of his mind? Janaia mouthed. Khiruev could only shrug.
“You have your orders, Commander Kavinte,” Jedao said. “If I’m right, the geese will let down their guard when they see the configuration. You’ll have ample opportunity to blast holes in them. I’m as much for that as the next soldier, but capture a few intact if you can. Give our engineers something to take apart.”
“Acknowledged, sir,” Kavinte said in a tone of dour resignation.
Jedao cocked his head at Khiruev. “You’re convinced I’ve lost it.”
Or getting rid of a commander who annoyed him, but Khiruev couldn’t express that out loud. “If it’s not a trap, then I don’t know what it is,” Khiruev said. “Although it’s possible that their scan has short range because it’s operating in hostile calendrical terrain.” The Hafn weapons were all fired at short range in previous engagements, but they’d discussed this before and she didn’t need to remind Jedao of it now. “Perhaps they’re attempting to deceive us as to their capabilities.” She kept an eye on Tactical Five’s movements in the subdisplay. “No one with two brain cells is going to fall for Every Mirror.”
Every Mirror Was a Flatterer was an illusion generator specifically affecting the swarm’s scan formants rather than direct visuals, which meant it wasn’t even useful for impressing civilians. The Kel never bothered with it in battle because the illusion only was visible from such a short distance that any enemy with halfway decent scan would already have spotted you first. No one would mistake them for Hafn at this point.