“But we don’t have enough fuel-cell reserves to run rings around the Syndics until the battleships catch up.”
“Do the Syndics know that?”
“Let’s hope not.”
Seven hours out. Four Syndic battleships had continued in pursuit of the Dreadnaught task force. The rest of the Syndic reserve flotilla was re-forming into the conventional box formation, the surviving heavy cruisers well protected in the center. Geary pondered options, knowing that if he tried ramming his battle cruisers through the center of that Syndic box to get the heavy cruisers he might succeed, but that none of his battle cruisers might survive to exit on the other side of the Syndic flotilla. Six hours from contact. The Syndic reserve flotilla, its box formation tight and compact, turned toward the oncoming Alliance battle cruisers. “You called it, Captain Desjani. We’re outnumbered two to one in capital ships, but more importantly with all those battleships, the Syndics have at least a three-to-one advantage in firepower and armor.” His eyes went to the four Syndic battleships that had been chasing the Dreadnaught task force but had altered course to form a screen between the Alliance ships and the main Syndic formation.
It was as if Desjani read his mind. “Four battleships. We can take them.”
“If we do it right.” He looked at the position of the Alliance battleships, coming on steadily but over an hour behind the battle cruisers. Fuel-cell reserves were dwindling on every ship. Geary focused on Rifle, now at 6 percent reserves, the lowest in the fleet. “I should have left Rifle at the jump point.”
“Her crew would never have forgiven you.”
He set up the approach carefully, adjusting the battle cruisers so they seemed to be heading straight for a clash with the Syndic box, bringing the battleships’ vector over a little so they’d reach the Syndics at the right time, finding the right point at which to change course again.
“How much longer?” Rione asked. She’d been sitting so quietly for so long that it was easy to forget she was there at the back of the bridge.
“The Syndics are coming at us now,” Geary explained “Two hours, forty minutes to contact, give or take a few. They’ll get their surprise at two hours, twenty minutes.”
“They may expect it,” Desjani pointed out. “Dreadnaught’s been doing the same thing.”
“Good point. We’ll dodge in an unusual way.”
At one hour from contact, the Dreadnaught task force had altered course to close the four Syndic battleships, which in turn had come around to confront the small Alliance task force. With Dreadnaught only about fifteen light-minutes distant, Geary sent more orders. “Captain Geary, this is… Captain Geary. Avoid closing on the four Syndic battleships at this time. We’re coming that way and will see if we can even up the odds for you.”
No acknowledgment came back even though the transit times for messages between Dreadnaught and Dauntless were only fifteen minutes each way now. With less than half an hour to contact with the Syndic reserve flotilla, Geary couldn’t spend time worrying about whether or not Jane Geary would do as directed. “All units in Alliance formation Indigo One. We’re going to bypass the main Syndic formation this time, hit those four battleships, then come back and hit the flotilla. Save your remaining expendable munitions for the firing pass against the flotilla.”
Twenty minutes to contact, the Syndic reserve flotilla and the Alliance battle cruisers were only four light-minutes apart as they tore toward each other at a combined pace of point two light speed, the Syndics having cut their velocity to point six light speed to keep relativistic distortion from reducing their chances of hitting the Alliance warships. Geary waited, not yet happy with the maneuvering solution. Fifteen minutes to contact. Ten minutes. “All units in Formation Indigo One, turn port two zero degrees, down one five degrees at time zero four zero nine.”
The Alliance battle cruisers and their escorts yawed left, away from the star Varandal, and down, aiming below the plane of the star system. It had literally taken a minute for the Syndics to see the light showing the Alliance fleet dodging, by which time the two forces were less than seven minutes from contact. Geary tapped his controls again. “All units in Formation Indigo One, turn up two zero degrees at time zero four one three.”
The Syndics would be altering course themselves, angling down and to the side to intercept the Alliance battle cruisers, but the battle cruisers were already bending their track upward as the minutes to contact spiraled down to seconds. “The Syndics have fired missiles and grapeshot,” the combat-systems watch reported.
The Syndic firing pattern had been aimed at where the Alliance force was going, and had assumed that if they evaded further, it would be to continue downward at a steeper rate. As a result, the Syndic weapons shot by well beneath the Alliance battle cruisers as Geary leveled them out again, aimed at the four isolated Syndic battleships.
Behind the Alliance battle cruisers, the Syndic flotilla’s box began coming around so hard that a light cruiser suddenly came apart under the stress as its inertial compensators overloaded.
“Make them mad, make them stupid,” Desjani commented. “You know, not too long ago I would have been really upset at just playing tag with these guys instead of hitting them head-on, but imagining what that Syndic CEO is saying right now is great compensation.”
“Thanks.” The four Syndic battleships would be waking up to their peril right now, realizing that twelve battle cruisers were coming straight for them from one angle while the Dreadnaught task force was boring in from the opposite direction as well. “This is what happens when a commander keeps compromising in an attempt to follow an original plan even though the situation is changing drastically. That CEO never should have split his forces that way instead of focusing on either us or the Dreadnaught task force.”
The Syndic reserve flotilla was still coming around fifteen minutes later when the Alliance battle cruisers braked heavily down to point one light speed and swept past the four Syndic battleships, hammering the closest battleships with repeated volleys of hell lances, followed by null fields from the rearmost battle cruisers.
“Two down,” Desjani announced triumphantly as one of the Syndic battleships exploded and the second drifted helpless. Dauntless was still shaking from several hits on her shields. Despite the overwhelming local superiority in Alliance firepower, Leviathan, Implacable, and Brilliant had taken significant damage, too. “Dreadnaught, the other two battleships are yours for now,” Geary sent as he brought the Alliance battle cruisers around again.
As the battle cruisers steadied out on a vector aimed at the Syndic reserve flotilla’s box, which was coming back toward them at a full point one light speed, an alarm sounded on Dauntless’s bridge.
“Captain, we just hit ten percent on fuel-cell reserves,” the engineering watch reported. “The ship’s maneuvering and combat systems are recommending we disengage and refuel immediately.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Desjani remarked sarcastically. “The systems’ recommendation is noted.”
“Uh, Captain, the systems are warning that if their recommendation is disregarded they will enter an automatic note in the log that the commanding officer is hazarding the ship.”
“Tell the systems where they can stick their warning, Lieutenant.”
“Captain? How—?”
“Use the override!” Desjani glanced at Geary. “You might want to try wrapping up this battle before too much longer.”