Fosa took from his white uniform blouse a folded piece of paper of his own. "My commander gave me full latitude to write my own ROE. This is ours."
The admiral scanned quickly, then passed the paper on to his subordinate.
"Admirably direct," was the admiral's sole comment.
"Admirably traditional," said the signals chief when the paper reached him.
"Legate," the captain asked, "what does your fleet consist of?"
Fosa laid out the composition of the fleet, omitting only the precise nature of the recreation ship, dubbed "Fosa's Floating Fornication Frigate" by all the crews of his task force. As he spoke, the ops officer began jotting onto a notepad.
"So you have no long-range strategic recon," observed the ops officer for the carrier battle group. "We can make up that lack."
"It would help," Fosa agreed. "But . . . can you?"
"Officially no," the admiral said. "Unofficially, I think we can provide that and quite a bit more. But it will all have to be under the table."
"Under the table would be fine. But I think I am under a looking glass. Someone is telling the Xamaris where my ships and planes are at any given time. Nothing else can explain how they've been so successful at avoiding us. It can't be all bad luck."
"It isn't. I can't tell you how I know; but I can tell you that I do know that the UEPF is sending data to someone inside Xamar. And it's not their ambassador because they, like everyone else, pulled their embassy out of Xamar years ago, when the place collapsed."
"The UEPF!? Damn. Then I haven't a prayer of doing any good."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the ops officer disagreed. "Tell me; can you put those two patrol boats of yours back aboard their tender . . . mmmm, maybe preferably just before a serious storm?"
"Sure," Fosa shrugged. "But why?"
"Because if you can re-embark them aboard your ship, and get your ship close to the Ironsides, you can conceivably unload them and hide them under our flight deck. The UEPF may lose track of them, for a while, at least."
"Okay," Fosa said, "I can see that working once. But after that?"
"After that, something else." It was the ops officer's turn to shrug. "Give us a little time."
"All warfare is based on deception," Fosa said and laughed at himself slightly.
"Clausewitz?" asked the admiral.
"No, sir, Sun Tzu. My . . . well, you might call him my supercargo, Commodore Kurita, quoted it to me just days ago."
"Tadeo Kurita?" the admiral asked.
"Yes, sir, that's him."
The admiral whistled. "He's still alive? Tough old bird. My father told me about Kurita, about him leading what was left of Yamato's Second Fleet in breaking free and running for home after they lost at the Battle of Kuantan. The old man said he'd never seen such seamanship or such guts."
"I think that would pretty much describe Commodore Kurita, Admiral."
Kamakura, Yamato, 8/6/467
An airship passed by gracefully overhead, bearing tourists who wanted to view the sacred cherry orchards from the vantage point of the sky. The cherry trees, or sakura, were in bloom, though a few petals were beginning to fall.
"Kurita advises patience," said Saito to Yamagata, as they sat below, under the cherry trees. "He says the pirates are being very coy and making good use of the considerable aid they receive from on high. He further advises that the ronin fleet will, in his opinion, produce good results with time."
Yamagata said nothing for a while, his attention seemingly fixed on a cherry blossom making its leap into immortality. It fluttered and spun to the ground, joining there the very few which had chosen to die young, in the full bloom of glorious youth.
During the migration from the home islands of Old Earth, it had been impossible to carry fully grown trees. Instead, the settlers had taken along saplings, a few, seeds and some cuttings, which they had carefully nursed into growth. Even then, many—most—had not survived. These trees were descendants of those who had and were, like the Yamatans themselves, of remarkably hardy and tough stock. Raising the trees had been as high a priority as the growing of food, for without these reminders of both the beauty of life, as well as its ephemeral nature, the settlers had feared losing some part of their essence.
With a sigh, Yamagata said, "The patience of the program's backers is not unlimited. We must have results, and soon. We lost another ship's crew yesterday. The Federated States Navy stood by and allowed it to happen because the pirates threatened to kill the crew if they were interfered with."
"His Majesty still will not allow our fleet to intervene," Saito said.
Yamagata grunted. "It is the curse of those who allow others to be their primary line of defense. It is the curse of being insufficiently self reliant."
"It is the curse of losing a war," Saito corrected. "Still, let us trust Kurita's judgment. It is not his fault we lost, last time. He will not permit us to lose again."
Yamagata sighed. "I am still not sure it was wise to tell Kurita about our special source of information. We haven't even told our own defense forces or the FSC."
Saito clapped his colleague on the shoulder. "Do not fear, friend. He will not divulge anything that cannot be disguised as coming from somewhere else."
9/6/467 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Xamar Coast
A kimono-wearing and tabi- and tatami-shod Kurita stared down at the display showing the deployment of the ships of the task force around the carrier. His normal serene smile was missing, which caused Fosa to infer that something with his deployment was drastically wrong. He asked as much.
Kurita answered. "Yes, I am concerned, Captain-san. No matter that the Ironsides Task Force may warn you of the approach of danger. I assure you that before they can act, they will have to get permission from the FSN or even the Executive Mansion in Hamilton. By the time they are allowed to, it will probably be too late."
"You are thinking of Farsian submarines, Commodore?" Fosa asked.
The Yamatan nodded, then said, "I would not expect them soon, certainly not until we begin to show some success. But I would expect them. It is better to be ready, always. And we must also consider the possibility of suicidal dive bombers."
Fosa had considered that threat when outfitting the ship. Indeed, the mix of air defense guns and missiles aboard the Dos Lindas was very powerful for that reason; that, and the possibility of suicidal boats. The task force had more light cannon and heavy machine gun power than the entire Ironsides Battle Group.
His own experience of naval warfare was . . . well, actually it wasn't. The Commodore, on the other hand, had more real experience than the entire crew of the Ironsides and all its escorts, combined. He'd listen to Kurita's advice, he decided.
"Order the escorts to increase dispersion from the carrier to twelve miles," Fosa told the radio watch.
Kurita's serene smile returned.
"How goes it with shipping aboard the patrol boats?" he asked.
"They're already on the deck of the transport," Fosa answered.