"I understand your difficulties," Simonds said more gently. "Just tell me what you've learned."
"Yes, Sir." Ash drew a deep breath and consulted an electronic memo pad. "Sir, despite their missiles' smaller size, their penaids, and especially their penetration ECM, are better than ours. We've programmed our fire control to compensate for all of their EW techniques we've been able to identify. I'm sure they have tricks we haven't seen yet, but we've eliminated most of the ones they've already used.
"Defensively, their decoys and jammers are very good, but their counter missiles and point defense lasers are only a little better than our own, and we've gotten good reads on their decoy emissions and updated our missiles' exclusion files. I think we'll be able to compensate for them to a much larger extent in the next engagement."
"Good, Lieutenant. But what about our own defenses?"
"Sword, we're just not experienced enough with our systems to operate them in command mode. I'm sorry, Sir, but that's the truth." Ash's assistants looked down at their hands or panels, but Simonds simply nodded again, slowly, and the lieutenant went on.
"As I say, we've updated the threat files and reworked the software to extrapolate from our analysis of what they've already done. In addition, I've set up packaged jamming and decoy programs to run on a computer-command basis. It won't be as flexible as a fully experienced tactical staff could give you, Sir, but taking the human element out of the decision loop should increase our overall effectiveness."
The lieutenant didn't like admitting that, but he met Simonds' eyes without flinching.
"I see." The Sword straightened and massaged his aching spine, then looked over his shoulder. "Is your course updated, Astrogation?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Then bring us around." Simonds gave Ash his most fatherly smile. "We'll give you a chance to show us the fruits of your labor, Lieutenant."
"They're coming back in, Skipper."
Honor set her cocoa in the beverage holder on her arm rest, cocked an eyebrow at Cardones, then looked down at her own repeater. Saladin had reopened the range to almost three hundred million kilometers, but now she was decelerating towards Fearless at four-point-six KPS.
"What do you think he's up to this time, Ma'am?"
"I imagine he's spent the last couple of hours thinking over what we did to him, Andy. If he's coming back for more, he must think he's figured out what he did wrong last time."
"You think he'll try to close to energy range, then?"
"I would in his place, but remember the saying about the world's best swordsman." Venizelos looked puzzled, and she smiled crookedly. "The world's best swordsman doesn't fear the second best; he fears the worst swordsman, because he can't predict what the idiot will do."
The exec nodded his understanding, and Honor turned to her com link to Troubadour. She opened her mouth, but McKeon grinned and shook his head.
"I heard you talking to Andy, Ma'am, and I wish you were wrong. Too bad you're not."
"Even so, he probably learned a lot the last time, Alistair. If he has, he'll concentrate his fire as he closes."
"Yes, Ma'am." McKeon didn't say any more, but they both knew Saladin's logical target. Troubadour could take far less damage than Fearless, and her destruction would eliminate a quarter of Honor's launchers.
"Stick close. Whatever he's up to, it's going to open with a missile exchange, and I want you inside Fearless's inner point defense perimeter."
"Aye, aye, Skipper."
"Rafe," she turned back to Cardones, "call Lieutenant Harris to relieve you, then you and Carol get some rest. You, too, Chief Killian," she added with a glance at the helmsman. "We've got four or five hours before missile range, and I want all three of you sharp when it happens."
Sword Simonds shoved himself firmly against the command chair's cushioned back.
Part of him wanted to wade right in, get to close grips with his enemies, and destroy them once and for all, yet he dared not. Harrington had handled Thunder too roughly in the first engagement. Prudence was indicated until he was certain Ash had made sufficient adjustments to their own defenses, so he'd ordered a turnover to kill their closing velocity and hug the edge of the missile envelope once more rather than get in too deep too quickly.
Harrington had turned away enough to extend his closure time, and he gritted his teeth as the long, exquisite tension tore at his nerves. She'd played her games with him for fourteen hours now, and he'd been on Thunder's bridge continuously for forty-five, broken only by brief, fitful naps. Now his stomach was awash with acid and too much coffee, and he wanted it to end.
"He is going for another missile engagement."
Rafael Cardones had just come back on watch, relieving Lieutenant Harris, and despite her own tensionor perhaps because of itHonor felt an almost overpowering urge to giggle at the disgust in his voice.
"Count your blessings, Guns," she said instead. "If he's willing to stay out of energy range, I certainly am."
"I know, Skipper. It's just" Cardones bent over his console, updating himself, and Honor shook her head fondly at his back. "He'll enter range in another ten minutes," Cardones announced after a moment. "Closing velocity will be down to four hundred KPS at that point."
"Close up your missile crews, Lieutenant," Honor said formally.
The range fell to six-point-eight million kilometers, and Thunder of God spat missiles towards her foes, their computers crammed with every tactical improvement Ash had been able to think of. This time she went to rapid fire with the first salvo; a second broadside followed fifteen seconds later, then a third, and a fourth. Two hundred and sixteen missiles were in space before the first reached attack range, and Manticoran broadsides raced to meet them.
"They're concentrating on Troubadour," Cardones said tautly, and Honor gripped her chair arms.
"Yankee-Three, Alistair."
"Aye, aye, Ma'am. Executing Yankee-Three." McKeon's voice was flat and metallic.
"Chief, take us to Yankee-Two," Honor went on, and Fearless slowed and rolled "up" towards Saladin.Troubadour slid past her, tucking in to hide as much of her emission signature behind the more powerful ship as she could without blocking her own fire. It was a cold-blooded maneuver to place the cruiser's tougher sidewalls between her and the enemy, but Saladin had detailed scans on them both. It was unlikely her missiles would be fooled into going for Fearless, and they still had plenty of maneuver time on their drives.
"Missile Defense Delta."
"Aye, aye, Ma'am. Initiating Plan Delta." Wolcott sounded calm and cool this time, and Honor felt a brief glow of pride in the young woman.
The glow faded as she turned back to her plot and the sheer density of the Masadan fire. Saladin carried far more ammunition, and she was using it ruthlessly. Honor longed to reply in kind, for Fearless mounted the new Mod 7b launcher, with a cycle time of only eleven seconds. She could have pumped out twenty percent more fire than Saladin but only while her ammo lasted, and the range was too long for her to burn through it that way.