“Barrage inbound,” Malin announced, then looked at Drakon again. “Four minutes, fifteen seconds.”
Drakon grinned at him, feeling a rush of relief that the latest attacks had been repulsed. “Close enough for Syndicate work.”
“A damned sight better than Syndicate work, sir.” The ground trembled once more as the barrage struck outside of sector two. “The Syndicate soldiers surrounding us will know that barrage is hitting any of their wounded outside the base.”
“We brought in every wounded soldier we could,” Drakon said.
“We know that, but the Syndicate ground forces will assume those wounded are still out there and being killed by their own artillery.” Malin smiled that cold smile of his. “With that on top of the losses they’ve sustained in futile attacks today, the Syndicate forces are going to face some serious morale problems.”
Drakon nodded, his eyes on his display, where the chaff clouds now drifted with no signs of the enemy visible behind them. “I’m going to need the Syndicate prisoners screened for potential recruits, Bran. The ones from the brigade that held this base and the ones we just picked up outside. We’ve taken way too many losses today. Maybe we can find some recruits with potential among our prisoners.”
It took Drakon a moment to realize that he had just thought beyond the next hour, beyond today.
He might just have a future again.
But they were still surrounded; despite their losses, the Syndicate ground forces still had big advantages in supporting arms like artillery and aerospace warbirds, and above all else there was still that Syndicate battleship to worry about.
In terms of numbers, the two flotillas rushing toward each other were closely matched. Each had a single battleship. Now that Haris’s cruisers had joined it, the Syndicate flotilla also contained two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and three Hunter-Killers. Marphissa’s ships had met up with the newly arrived Midway, giving her flotilla two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and four Hunter-Killers.
“I should switch flagships,” Marphissa said reluctantly. She had gone to her stateroom to talk privately with Mercia and Bradamont, who were in one of the battleship’s secure conference rooms, but thanks to the conferencing software appeared to be sitting right next to Marphissa’s desk on Manticore. “I should be aboard Midway. There’s plenty of time for a shuttle to come over to Manticore and transport me back to the battleship.”
Kapitan Mercia looked over as Bradamont cleared her throat. “Kommodor,” Bradamont said, speaking formally, “I recommend that you stay on Manticore. Not because of any flaw with Midway,” she added with a gesture toward Mercia. “We all agree that the Syndicate believes the Midway is once more bluffing, that her weapons are still mostly not operational. If you switch flagships, the Syndicate will see the shuttle movement and know what the significance of that must be. It will cause them to wonder if the Midway is indeed bluffing. Why would you transfer to a ship without working weapons?”
Kapitan Mercia nodded. “So, if the Kommodor switches to Midway, it might well lead CEO Boucher to question whether Midway might be fully operational, or at least much more ready to fight than the Syndicate expects. I agree with Captain Bradamont.”
“But,” Bradamont continued, “if you stay on Manticore even though you have the opportunity to transfer to Midway, it will serve to confirm to the Syndics, excuse me, the Syndicate forces, their belief that Midway is not a functional warship.”
Marphissa nodded as well. “That is an important consideration. I will be very close to Midway in any event, able to communicate with you with no meaningful delay. I will stay aboard Manticore. I want to take every measure to ensure that Happy Hua is badly surprised by our first engagement.” No one had mentioned that as a heavy cruiser, Manticore was far more vulnerable than a battleship like Midway. This was not a matter in which personal safety of the flotilla commander should be deciding the course of action.
“Hua will be aiming for Midway’s propulsion,” Bradamont added. “Above all, she wants to be sure that this battleship does not get away from her.”
“And I will be aiming for her battleship’s propulsion,” Mercia said with a laugh. “We’re both going to be chasing the other’s backside.”
“Both of you have a lot more experience with engaging battleships than I do,” Marphissa said. “Is there any other way to quickly cripple Happy Hua’s battleship? Besides trying to hit her main propulsion?”
Mercia shook her head. “In a one-on-one engagement? In one firing pass? Even if we had that Alliance fog weapon, we couldn’t do it except by aiming for the main propulsion. But we’ll never get a clean shot at her stern if both of us are trying to do that. Neither of us can outmaneuver the other. It will just be a succession of head-to-head firing passes, gradually wearing down both ships, and if Hua finds she is being worn down faster, she will have a chance to bolt and escape from us.”
“What can we do then?” Marphissa demanded.
“You said,” Bradamont commented to Mercia, “it couldn’t work if both battleships were trying for each other’s propulsion.”
“Yes, I did.” Mercia hunched forward, her hands moving to illustrate the movements of ships. “CEO Boucher thinks we’re bluffing. She’s coming toward us in what will be a head-to-head encounter. I can appear to fumble the angle of our bow at contact, which won’t strike CEO Boucher as odd because I’m just some junior executive or even worker who killed her betters and got promoted immediately to command a warship, right? That will seem to allow the Syndicate battleship a partial shot at my stern. Midway herself only fires a few weapons on that pass, as if that’s all we’ve got. We come out of it with some of our main propulsion apparently inoperative as a result of lucky hits. The external damage won’t be there, but there are plenty of internal reasons why main propulsion units can go off-line after taking fire, so it will still look plausible. We turn away and loop back toward the jump point for Midway Star System. It looks like we’re running. Our bluff has been called, and we’ve taken damage.” One of her hands swung in a wide turn.
“But we’ve lost some main propulsion, so the arc of our turn is wider than what Happy Hua’s ship can manage,” Mercia continued, her other hand moving in a tighter arc inside that of the first. “It’s hard to shift the vectors on so much mass. Happy Hua turns inside us and aims for our stern, coming in at about, hmmm, our stern quarter. Even if I try to turn bow on toward her, I’ll just be pivoting my own stern along the same path that Hua is taking. She’d still be able to hit my stern quarter as she passes.”
“That’s your most vulnerable point,” Bradamont said.
“Yes. This is all if we held our vector. But, we’re on that arc. We have a lot of momentum along a wider angle that our main propulsion is fighting as it keeps pushing us through the turn.” Mercia’s hands moved again. “If I completely kill our main propulsion, we stop turning along that arc at that rate. My ship changes speed relative to Hua’s ship, and immediately begins to swing out along a much wider arc. You see? Hua has set her firing pass to come close to our stern, but when I change my arc by killing my propulsion just before contact, it changes the situation. She will suddenly find her battleship passing,” Mercia said with a grin, as her hands moved past each other, “just in front of my bow, angled away from me, giving me a perfect shot at her stern quarter.”