''Those are Wardhaven Army AGM 832s, intel says,'' the Duty Lieutenant reported. ''Obsolete, of little military value.''
''And the other ones?''
''Nothing from intel, sir, but my technicians identify some of them as even more obsolete Army designs, sir.''
''And if you tell intel to dig deep into its references of ancient Wardhaven Army rockets, I suspect they can identify even more of those out-of-date and worthless weapons headed at us. Maybe they can even tell us how to destroy them.''
''Yes, sir,'' the Lieutenant said and spoke into his commlink.
The lights flickered and dimmed in flag plot as the primary and secondary lasers drew on the energy of the ship's reactors. The Admiral tightened his seat belt. Saris spotted his action and did the same. The future governor of Wardhaven continued to pace about flag plot. The cloud of incoming missiles expanded, reached out for his ships. It was only a matter of seconds.
''Admiral, the two enemy freighters say they are abandoning ship and ask that you cease firing at them.''
''Have they quit firing at us? Are they on a course for us?''
''They don't seem to be firing anymore. They are not headed toward us. The Captain of the Revenge awaits your orders. There are escape pods exiting the ships, though they are not squawking on emergency channels, sir.''
''I wouldn't squawk if I were them either,'' Saris muttered.
''Keep blasting them,'' the future governor demanded.
The Admiral raised an eyebrow to Saris. ''Mr. Governor,'' his Chief of Staff said, ''that would not be advisable. We need to conserve our power to shoot the incoming missiles, not crewmen drifting in life pods.''
''So power up some more reactors,'' the governor demanded.
''Order the Captain of the Revenge and Ravager to concentrate on the incoming missiles and ignore the life pods. And tell those other ships to get those damn runabouts,'' the Admiral snapped. Another one of them launched a volley of missiles.
''Also, tell the fleet to stand by to maneuver. On my signal we will reverse course, slow to one-tenth-g acceleration, and begin evasion plan 4.''
''The order is given.''
''Execute.''
''Done, sir.''
The future governor of Wardhaven spun in place to face the Admiral, then kept on spinning, bounced off the Lieutenant's chair, and hit the overhead. ''What's happening?''
''We are evading missiles, Mr. Governor,'' the Chief of Staff said, reaching for the governor's leg. He missed. The Revenge twisted in space, sending the governor toward the port bulkhead and down. The Admiral caught his hand as he went by.
''Here, let me get you into a chair,'' the Admiral said.
''Why didn't someone warn me?'' the governor shouted, rubbing his head with one hand, his knee with another, and needing help to buckle himself into a chair at the battle board.
''Sir, the ship has been at Battle Condition Bravo for the last hour,'' the Chief of Staff said, his voice carefully even. ''All Navy personnel are trained to stay within reach of a handhold or belted into their high-g stations. It was in the briefing book you were given when you came aboard.''
''You expected me to read everything you left in my suite?''
''Only if you wanted to avoid circumstances like this. Now, sir, the Admiral is not giving orders to our ships to initialize their two cold reactors just now. Starting reactors drains plasma from the hot reactors to mix with cold reaction mass and heat it up to plasma temperatures. While that is happening, you actually get less power out of your reactors. If one of our captains feels he can start a reactor, that is his business. The Admiral does not believe it is his place, in the middle of a battle, to tell a Captain how to sail his ship.''
''You ordered them to slow down, bounce me off the ceiling.''
''That was part of fighting the enemy attack, Mr. Governor,'' the Admiral cut in, content now to explain himself. ''That is me fighting my battle, not me fighting a Captain's ship. Old Naval tradition.'' The civilian's frown showed he still did not get the difference, but then micromanagement was not an illness the Admiral had observed isolated solely to civilians.
He glanced at his battle board. Only two of the runabouts were still attacking, and one of them vanished as he watched. By turning his squadron nose on to the incoming missiles, he'd protected his vulnerable motors. Most of his captains had taken his intent if not his exact order and turned a bit more to get their engines pointed away from the incoming threat axis. That did have them boosting along vectors that would have to be canceled once this problem was resolved.
''What kind of damage can those missiles do to a battleship with our armor?'' the governor grumbled.
The Revenge shook slightly. ''I do not know, but I suspect Captain Trontsom will have an answer for us soon.'' There were other cracks and rattles as the cloud of missiles passed over the fleet. The last runabout was retreating when it was cut in half.
''Send to Avenger. ‘Miserable shooting. I expect you will do better next time or paint over your gunnery E.' Are we out of this missile shower?''
''Yes, sir.''
''Send order to squadron, ‘Reverse course. Resume 1.05-g deceleration toward High Wardhaven.' Lieutenant, have the flag navigator plot us a course correction and pass it along to the Revenge. Also have the Chief you relieved report back on duty. Then tell me what you can about these missiles. Chief of Staff, what's our squadron's condition?''
''Minor damage, sir. Reports are coming in. Some antennas, mainly. I would guess that some of the warheads were homing on emitters, infrared, as well as our general form.''
''Lieutenant?''
''They were old missiles, some of them twenty, thirty years old, sir. They must be the scrapings of Wardhaven's armory. The Chief of Staff is correct. They had several kinds of guidance systems as well as warheads: home on jam, home on emitters, home on heat, home on movement, and home on specific images. None of them were ever intended for use in space. The fact that they could be used here, cover the distances that they did…''
''Yes, I know, Lieutenant, intel is very surprised.''
The Admiral eyed his board. ''Saris, how bad is our heat problem?''
''The lasers generated a lot of heat, sir. Since we're only decelerating at one g, we aren't burning much reaction mass, and we can't work off all that much preheating reaction mass before we shoot it into the reactor. We've sunk about as much of it as we can into the fuel tanks, but they're starting to vent. Do you think we could stream the radiators?''
''Not with what I see coming, Saris,'' the Admiral said, tapping what his battle board now had labeled Enemy 1 and Enemy 2. ''Not unless we want to see our radiators blown to bits.''
Kris swallowed rage and helplessness as she watched Division 7 die. They'd failed what she never intended for them to try.
How would the other volunteers take this slaughter? She mashed her commlink. ''Do you understand now why the armed yachts and runabouts attack after the fast patrol boats have cut them down to size?'' she transmitted in between, ''Use your shield and use your head, / Fight till Every One is Dead.''
There was general silence on net back at her. Was she losing her volunteers in that dead quiet? ''Horatio, Custer, your assessment,'' Kris said on net for all to hear.
''The missile launchers achieved my intent,'' van Horn said with maddening coolness. ''The hostiles showed us what they had. We scored some hits. I counted about fifteen. We trimmed some of their secondary batteries. Some of their sensors. Reno did what was expected, and we'll have rescue vessels out to pick up the survivors' life pods in a couple of hours.''
''It may have done a bit more,'' Penny said from behind Kris. ''Is anyone else getting a rise in the infrared from the targets?''