Tyrosian took a moment to reply. “We’re bait again?”
“Yes, Captain, you’re bait again.”
The engineering officer looked depressed, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Needless to say,” Geary felt compelled to add, “we’ll do everything we can to keep your ships from actually being destroyed.”
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate that.”
“I will provide detailed maneuvering instructions for your ships once the Syndic pursuit force arrives and we know their movement vectors. Thank you, Captain Tyrosian. ”
Twenty minutes later, with a few more Alliance shuttles out among the Syndic hulks and survival-suited sailors making a show of tossing looted supplies from Syndic ships into the open cargo bays of the shuttles, the alarms that Geary had been dreading finally sounded.
“The Syndic pursuit force has arrived at the jump point from Ixion,” the operations watch-stander announced.
Geary held his breath as the Alliance fleet’s sensors evaluated the enemy force appearing at the jump point, which was now fifteen light-minutes away, meaning the Syndics had already had fifteen minutes to decide what to do and to start doing it before the Alliance fleet had even seen their arrival in this star system.
The number of HuKs and light cruisers in the pursuit force was still impressive despite all of the losses that the Alliance fleet had managed to inflict. The ranks of the Syndic heavy cruisers, on the other hand, had been decimated during the engagements at Lakota the last time the Alliance fleet was here, with many destroyed and twenty-two heavy cruisers among the badly damaged ships that had remained in the star system. Nine of those twenty-two had already been destroyed, and the remainder were abandoned and part of the Casualty Flotilla. Only sixteen heavy cruisers remained with the Syndic pursuit force.
The Syndic capital warships flashed into existence, their numbers multiplying. Ten battleships. Fifteen. Thirty-one. Six battle cruisers. Thirteen battle cruisers.
“Thirty-one battleships and thirteen battle cruisers,” Desjani murmured. “Not too bad.”
“They’re in better shape than ours are,” Geary noted. He checked the numbers he already knew by heart. The Alliance fleet still had twenty-two battleships, the two scout battleships, and seventeen battle cruisers. Plus twenty-nine heavy cruisers. But a number of those Alliance warships had significant battle damage, and even though the Alliance ships had been resupplied with some new expendable munitions, the Syndics probably had much better inventories of missiles and grapeshot on hand.
Thirty-one enemy battleships. Geary took a moment to relax himself, knowing he had to respect that much combat capability and yet not get unnerved by it. “Our only advantage is in the number of heavy cruisers,” he said out loud.
Desjani shook her head, “We’ve got another very big advantage, ” she corrected. “That Syndic commander last saw us running for safety and has had eleven days to fix that image in their mind. Now that commander is going to see how much damage we’ve done to the Syndic warships left behind here, which is going to create a lot of anger. Overconfidence and anger add up to recklessness, sir.”
“I can’t disagree with your math,” Geary said. He couldn’t help thinking that overconfidence on his part and his own anger at the more recalcitrant among his ship captains might have led him to make a reckless decision to come to Lakota the first time. That scarcely mattered now, though. What counted would be taking advantage of an enemy commander’s own probable state of mind. “Let’s see if he does what we expect.”
As the minutes went past, it became increasingly obvious that the Syndic commander, whether reckless or not, was doing as they hoped. The Syndic formation altered slightly as it accelerated toward an intercept with the Alliance ships, the standard Syndic box formation adjusting into a deep rectangular shape with one broad side facing the Alliance fleet. The box was a decent multipurpose formation whose length, width, and depth could be adjusted for different tactical situations, but it had its limitations in terms of bringing firepower to bear on any point in any enemy formation and in adjusting its facing quickly. It seemed to be the only formation the Syndic commanders had been trained (or allowed) to use, though.
“Heading to intercept the Alliance ships with the Casualty Flotilla,” Desjani noted with a smile.
Geary checked the estimated time to intercept. With the Alliance fleet slowed to match the Casualty Flotilla’s velocity, all of the Alliance warships were headed away from the Syndic pursuit force at less than point zero two light speed. Coming on fast behind them and increasing velocity, the pursuit force had reached point zero seven nine light speed. Geary told Dauntless’s maneuvering systems to assume the Syndics would continue accelerating to point one light speed and came up with a time to contact of two hours and fifty-one minutes.
Assuming the Alliance ships didn’t themselves maneuver. For a long time Geary’s plan had been to run when the Syndic pursuit force showed up, because given the probable size of the Syndic force and his fleet’s status, he didn’t see any alternative. The plan for using the Casualty Flotilla as a weapon had changed that. Unless the Syndics inexplicably gave up the pursuit, he would have had to fight this force eventually anyway. Now he might be able to beat it.
“Will they believe that we’re just waiting around here for them?” Rione asked.
“Hopefully they’ll think we’re trying to decide what to do,” Geary explained. Just as at the Syndicate Worlds’ home star system, when the Alliance fleet had wasted precious time debating who was in command and what they should do. “The Big Ugly Ball formation will make them think I may not be in command anymore.”
“Big Ugly Ball? I see. You’re going to simulate indecision and frozen panic.”
“That’s the idea,” Geary agreed, hoping that both indecision and panic would remain simulated.
Rione came close again and ensured that the sound-deadening field around Geary’s command seat was activated. “Even I can tell that this is a very risky battle. What are our odds of winning?”
“That depends,” Geary said. He saw her aggravated reaction. “Honestly. If certain things happen as I’ve planned, we’ve got a good chance.”
“And if they don’t?”
“It’s going to be bad. We’d have to fight them sooner or later.”
She eyed him a moment longer. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that Dauntless get back to Alliance space. Not the fleet as a whole. Dauntless. The Syndic hypernet key on her can tip the balance of this war even if every other ship in this fleet is lost.”
He glared at the deck. “I know. Why’d you tell me that when you knew you didn’t have to tell me that?”
“Because you’re still focused on saving as much of this fleet as possible. You can’t forget the bigger picture. If it becomes a matter of losing Dauntless while trying to save as much of this fleet as you can, or getting Dauntless home no matter how many other Alliance ships are lost, your duty demands that you focus on Dauntless.”
“I don’t need lectures on duty,” Geary muttered. Rione was right in a big way, he knew she was right, but it wasn’t a kind of right he could live with.
“The other ships could hold off the Syndic pursuit force while a fast task force built around Dauntless was loaded with as many fuel cells as they could carry and headed for Alliance space,” Rione insisted, her voice unemotional.
“Run away, you mean. You’re suggesting that Dauntless and a few other ships run and leave the rest of the fleet to its fate.”
“Yes!” He looked at her again and saw in Rione’s eyes that she wasn’t liking what she suggested, either, but that she felt obligated to push for it. Duty. Her duty to the Alliance. “You have to remember the big picture, Captain John Geary! We all do! It’s not about what we want, it’s about what we have to do!”