“Yes, Captain?” Emily knelt down beside her.
“Whatever happens, get those supply ships, do you understand?” Grey gasped. “If we take out the supply ships, the Ducks won’t be able to mount a strong attack, Atlas will escape.” She weakly clutched Emily’s arm. “Atlas must escape.” Then her body contorted in a spasm, her eyes rolled up and blood gushed from her mouth; she would have fallen over except for the harness.
“Damn you!” Denker spat at Emily as she frantically inspected the captain. “She’s going to sickbay now whether you like it or not.”
Emily nodded numbly as Captain Grey’s unconscious form was placed on a gurney and hastily wheeled to the lift. For a long time she just sat there, oblivious to the crew and the shifting holo displays, then Chief Gibson was next to her, handing her a cup of coffee. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant, we’ve got to get ready, got to position the drones for the attack.”
Emily nodded, clutching the coffee mug for warmth. She was very cold.
It took three hours to send the drones in a long curving path outside of sensor range of the Dominion ships. Control of the drones at that range was tricky at best, but Rudd compensated by placing relays in a ‘string-of-pearls’ arc behind the drones, and they conveyed his instructions forward to the drones and their reconnaissance reports back to him. It wasn’t perfect, and Emily could hear him cursing as he lost control over first one, then three of the precious drones. One of them actually started to cross in a long diagonal line behind the Dominion ships and they were forced to kill its propulsion for fear of it being seen by enemy sensors.
Still, at that end of the three hours, the thirty seven remaining drones were finally on an intercept course with the Dominion supply ships. “Set the drones to active sensors,” Emily ordered quietly. “Let’s see if we can goose them.” She signaled Betty to open up a channel to the rest of the Coldstream Guards. “In a moment,” she broadcast to the other ships, “the escort for the Dominion supply ships should see our drones coming in from their front. With luck, they’ll think they are Victorian frigates and destroyers and will move forward to protect the colliers. When they do, we will accelerate and take the colliers from behind before they can escape. The colliers are the primary target. Don’t let yourselves get distracted by the escort until the colliers are dead.”
Chief Gibson interrupted. “Skipper! The Dominion escort has picked up the sensor sweep by the drones. They’re accelerating to put themselves between the drones and the supply ships.”
“Status of the supply ships?” Emily asked.
“Beginning to turn, skipper,” Gibson replied. Emily’s eyebrow arched up. That was twice in a row he had called her ‘skipper,’ a name usually reserved for the ship’s captain. “Yes, definitely turning and looks like they will reverse course to come right back at us.”
All of the other Coldstream Guard ships seemed to be obeying her orders without further protest. Good, she thought. Focus on the fight, not on who is giving your orders.
“Have the wasps fire their missiles at the escorts,” she ordered. “I want the escorts focused on their front.” She turned back to the Coldstream Guards channel. “All ships, accelerate to military speed and prepare to fire on the supply ships.” To Rudd at the Tactical Desk: “When will they be in missile range?”
“Six minutes,” he answered, not looking up.
“All ships, the supply ships should be in missile range within six minutes. In six minutes activate targeting sensors,” she said. “New Zealand out.”
“Targeting sensors!” Gibson suddenly shouted. “We’re being hit with S-band targeting sensors!”
Emily was confused. Had the Dominion escorts turned and come back?
“Multiple ships approaching from the northwest. Merlin estimates thirty five to forty war ships. Classified as Dominion. ETA outer missile range in four minutes.”
So, the Dominion had sent reinforcements to protect the supply ships. A few more minutes would have been nice, Emily thought.
On the holo display, the four colliers continued their hard turns, trying to head back to the protection of their escort ships and shield themselves using the escorts’ anti-missile screen. Emily leaned forward, gripping the arms of her chair. What to do? If she took the time to kill the supply ships, the newly arrived Dominion ships would be on her. But if they didn’t kill the supply ships, none of what they had done would matter and Atlas and the rest of the Home Fleet would perish.
She smiled grimly. Now we’re having fun.
“All ships, surrender tactical command to Merlin and prepare for hard maneuvering!” The holo display had finally displayed up the new threat, a distressingly large cluster of red triangles in the upper left corner, closing on them fast.
On board the Gloucester, Captain Wicklow saw his chance. There was no way the Coldstream Guard could survive an attack by forty Dominion ships. Either Captain Grey was leading them into disaster or — his brow wrinkled in suspicion — or something had happened to Grey. Either way, this was his chance.
Emily was startled to hear a voice over the command net. “Stop!” It was Captain Wicklow on the Gloucester. “All ships, this is Captain Wicklow. I am ordering you to fall back. We are outnumbered and cannot risk any further engagement. Follow me and we’ll make our way back to the Atlas. All ships, acknowledge this order!”
There was a long moment of confused silence, then a confusion of voices as the other captains tried to make sense out of what was going on. She looked at the holo display again.
The new Dominion reinforcements were sweeping in from the northwest, not yet in missile range. The supply ships were turning frantically to the right and the original Dominion escort was now accelerating briskly toward the drones.
In just a few minutes, the supply ships would be totally exposed. Not for long, but long enough. And if they could kill the supply ships, Atlas might stand a chance, and with Atlas, all of Victoria.
“Joe, what the hell are you doing?” It was Captain Rowe of the Bristol.
“I am next in line of command behind Captain Grey,” Wicklow answered calmly. “It is clear that Captain Grey is no longer in command of her ship. She would never have ordered this attack.”
“Gods of our Mothers! Joe, this is no time for-”
“This is precisely the time, Captain Rowe, and I will remind you that I am the senior officer now that Captain Grey is no longer able to command.”
“What do you mean? Captain Grey is-”
“If Captain Grey is still in command, I want her to get on the conference net and confirm her suicidal order. Captain Grey? Captain Grey, if you are able, please confirm your orders at once!”
With a desperate glance at Alex Rudd, Emily thumbed the com button. “This is Lieutenant Tuttle of the New Zealand, Captain Grey is unable to come to the bridge at this time, but I have orders to execute this attack.”
Wicklow smiled to himself, now it would be easy. “I don’t know what you’ve done to Captain Grey, Lieutenant, but in her absence I hereby take command of the Coldstream Guards. To all ships: Fall back now and follow me to Atlas. Confirm your orders or face disciplinary charges!”
Later, Emily was surprised that she hadn’t needed more time to make the decision, but as she listened to Wicklow and mentally compared him to Captain Grey, broken, bleeding and resolute in her duty, there really was no choice.
“Sir, I respectfully must decline your order to retreat as I am already under orders from Captain Grey, who is both superior to you and is my commanding officer.” Even as she said it, Emily felt like she was outside her body, watching herself say someone else’s lines. She was dimly aware that Rudd was staring at her, open-mouthed. From the com screen, twelve faces suddenly stared at her.