A real problem, although it usually resulted from poor maintenance. In safe situations, the best solution was complete shutdown of both drives, with a cold start of the sublight drive, once the residual magnetics had diminished to a safe level, but that left the ship passive, unable to maneuver at all. Straosi had his doubts, though. He could not verify the problem from here, and he didn’t trust the Chairman’s great-nephew.
Admiral Straosi was glad to have a target for his temper. “You are telling me that you did not adequately inspect your ship before starting off on this mission?”
A pause. “Sir, the admiral knows we were assigned to this mission only fourteen hours before launch—”
“The admiral also knows the entire fleet has been on alert—all ships to be ready to depart at one hour’s notice. Had you slacked off, Captain?” Of course they had; everyone did, on extended high alert. But now, with the results of that slack endangering his mission, and his own life, he was not about to be lenient.
“Er . . . no, Admiral. It wasn’t that, it was just—”
“Just that you somehow failed to notice a problem that any first-year fresh out of school could see . . . Captain. Let me put it this way—” That was ritual introduction of a mortal challenge. “Either you get your ship back into formation, or we leave you. I am not risking this mission for someone too stupid and lazy to do the job for which he was overpaid.”
“The Benignity commands.” That was the only possible answer. The admiral grunted, and watched the scans. Zamfir continued to lag . . . the lag widened. By the estimate of the senior engineer aboard the Paganini, the other cruiser’s insystem drive had lost thirty percent of its power.
“If the R.S.S. ship was right, their cruiser might be able to take Zamfir,” an aide murmured.
“If they want to waste their time attacking our stragglers, they have my blessing,” the admiral said. “Let them trade salvos with Zamfir; Paulo might actually blow them away and regain my respect, and at least they’d be out of our way. Our objective is the Xavier system, to prepare it for the use of the entire fleet. We don’t care what happens to Zamfir.”
“And Cusp?” The admiral considered. The little killer-ship now flanking Zamfir had been intended as rear guard and as messenger both. Had the damaged cruiser been where it should, Cusp would have been the tail of the formation.
“Bring Cusp to its normal position,” he said. He was almost glad to leave Zamfir out there unprotected. Paulo’s carelessness was going to cause trouble no matter what happened; he was the Chairman’s great-nephew. He was supposed to come out of this a hero. Instead, he had already caused trouble. He stared at the scans, waiting for Cusp to close up. Nothing happened; the two ships dropped still farther behind.
“What is his problem?” the admiral asked. Then he remembered. The captain of Cusp was Paulo’s brother-in-law. They had always been close. Well, fine. Let them both hang back, and maybe the Familias commander would think it was some new tactic, and engage them. Together they should be an easy match for an R.S.S. cruiser. Perhaps this would work out after all. Of course it was bad for discipline . . . but he could rescind the order. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Order Cusp to hold position, and engage the enemy at will. We have sufficient margin of superiority; we can afford to test new tactics.”
Heris tried to think herself into the enemy’s mind. Assuming that Hearne had told the truth as she saw it, the Benignity commander believed there were three hyper-capable ships near Xavier, and an obsolete defense escort with no FTL drive. A cruiser: the most dangerous, commanded by a Serrano, a name they should know. A patrol craft, whose new captain was far enough down the table of officers that he might not even be listed in the CH database—certainly there was no combat command listing for him. And an armed yacht, whose real capabilities Heris had screened from Garrivay’s personnel. She had told Hearne that she expected a Benignity attack “in a few days, certainly within ten local days.” In other words, the Benignity commander would expect them to be looking for trouble, but not necessarily on full alert yet, particularly not after a hostile takeover of the ships. Hearne would have transmitted her assessment of the situation, but her main concern had been to escape. She certainly hadn’t stayed around to answer questions.
On the bridge, four clocks were running countdowns: Koutsoudas’s estimate of when the CH ships could get reliable scan on them, Koutsoudas’s estimate of when standard Fleet scans would have shown the CH jump point exit, the scan-delay display, and the realtime clock which her own crew would use for its timing of maneuvers and firing.
“She’s jumped,” Koutsoudas said, pointing at the yacht’s icon. “You know, I thought Livadhi would pass out when you jumped her that close to Naverrn. What did you do to that hull?”
“Ask me no questions,” Heris said. At some level below current processing, she was distantly aware of other gears ticking into alignment. Amazing how all those unauthorized and illegal changes to Sweet Delight now made sense, in light of her pretense to have been on undercover assignment. She was going to be really angry if it turned out her aunt admiral had diddled with her memory and she only thought she’d been forced to resign.
“I always knew Oblo was a genius,” Koutsoudas went on. “Him and Ginese . . . and Kinvinnard . . .”
“And you. Don’t be greedy. I envied Livadhi for years.”
“It was mutual. Ah—she’s back. Her . . . er . . . third incarnation, it is. The one from the Guernesi.”
“Speaking of geniuses. I think Oblo would emigrate in a flash if they didn’t have such stringent rules on personal weaponry.” Heris watched the screen. The old Grogon now occupied the approximate volume of space where the yacht had been, and its beacon reported that it was the yacht. Although of different shapes, they had similar mass. Light-hours away, the yacht curved around the largest chunk of rock in this section of the “rockring”—the remains of a small planetoid that had come apart eons before. It still showed on Vigilance’s scans, but from the angle of the CH flotilla, it should have appeared briefly, as if it had darted out to get a clean scan or tightbeam message, and then gone back into hiding.
Vigilance itself bored out at half the maximum insystem drive acceleration, as if in cautious pursuit of Despite.
“We would be cautious, because we would worry if Despite had an ally out there, something Garrivay didn’t chart. He didn’t even drop temporary mines, did he?”
“No, sir.” That was her new Weapons First. “He said there was no need to cause a problem for incoming commercial traffic. It would cost too much to clear later.”
“And no beacon leeches, either,” said Communications. “That’s standard, but we just thought he was in a snit to be sent out here away from Third Ward HQ, when all the excitement was going on.”
“He didn’t want any clever amateurs on Xavier to pick up a warning,” Heris said, wondering what excitement that had been. Something else she didn’t have time to pursue.
“They might have us,” Koutsoudas said, meaning the enemy. “Another hour, and we have to assume they do.” The Benignity flotilla, knowing exactly what to look for and where, would see them as soon as the limits of their technology made it possible. The FR vessels could be presumed to divide their attention in more directions. They might not notice the distant flotilla at first if they were looking elsewhere.