Impávido (63 page)

“They will,” Captain Desjani replied with a grim smile. “As the light from our arrival reaches them, a lot of Syndics are going to start praying to their ancestors.”

Geary had to admit it was interesting to imagine the reactions of Syndicate Worlds leaders and citizens throughout the system to the arrival of the Alliance fleet. On his system display a bubble was radiating out from the fleet, indicating the movement of light on the scale of the Sancere solar system. He could see the bubble expand, its front covering the outermost gas giant now and moving on toward the inner planets.

As light showing the fleet’s arrival reached them, the Syndics in the mining ships and the orbital facilities would be reacting to sudden alerts on their warning equipment. They’d stare, not believing the information. They’d double-check and magnify the light images. Hopefully many would refuse to believe it and send messages that would take hours to reach their destinations. Others would believe it and also send messages, these asking for instructions.

All of the messages would be arriving at the offices of the main Syndic leaders in this star system at almost the same time as the light images announcing the arrival of the fleet, thereby adding to the confusion. And as everybody tossed out frantic messages to everybody else, the Syndic communications net would start bogging down under the strain of all that message traffic, slowing the Syndic ability to understand and react.

Perhaps enough to compensate for the advantages the Syndics had in defending their own system.

“All units,” Geary ordered, “keep a close eye out for incoming kinetic projectiles and drifting minefields.”

He paused, evaluating the situation again for a moment, then finally deciding on the course feinting a close-in attack on the gas giant nearest the sun of Sancere. “All units in main body, this is Captain Geary.

Come starboard to course three three nine, down four degrees, at time five one.”

The representations of the ships in the fleet on Geary’s display flared green in ripples spreading out from Dauntless as each ship received and acknowledged the order. It was so different from the mob he’d found himself commanding at Corvus that Geary found himself smiling.

An incoming message beeped for his attention. “This is Furious. Continuing attack. Follow-on target will be close-in attack on fifth planet.”

Geary nodded absently, then noticed Rione giving him a suspicious look. “Not really,” Geary explained.

“They’re going to feint at the fifth planet, then break away.” I hope.

Captain Desjani spoke up, her voice diffident. “Our light units screening the port flank of the formation will pass not far from the mining ships off of the outermost gas giant.”

“Yeah.” Okay, this time you’re right. Those ships are legitimate targets and important industrial assets in this system. “Fourth Cruiser Division, Sixth and Seventh Destroyer Squadrons, as we pass the outermost planet, engage merchant shipping traffic within range. Maneuver independently as necessary to engage targets. Inform crews of those ships they are to evacuate their ships now.” That took care of military necessity and humanitarian obligations.

System display, still finding and evaluating new information, highlighted Syndic defensive systems on various moons and what were plainly headquarters and coordination centers on planets and in orbital locations. Geary gazed at the many targets either in fixed orbits or on objects with fixed orbits.

Target-rich didn’t even begin to describe it. He highlighted the Syndic battleships and battle cruisers being built in the shipyards, as well, then asked the combat system to recommend an engagement plan for everything military or military-related. Moments later it popped up, ships throughout the fleet tagged to hurl kinetic projectiles at the targets most favorable for their projectile load-out and geometry. Geary ran through the list quickly, seeing nothing that stood out as odd, then punched ‘approve,’ followed by

‘execute.’

The ships of the Alliance fleet began throwing out many more projectiles, a rain of solid metal falling inward upon the Syndic defenses, a rain no shield would repel. Syndic command authorities, which in a few hours would be reeling from news of the Alliance fleet’s arrival, would very soon afterward also see that bombardment on its way. In one sense it was unfortunate that the weapons would take a lot longer to reach their targets than the light advertising their approach, but since their targets couldn’t avoid or block the projectiles, the sight of the incoming wave of devastation would have plenty of time to add to the panic.

Combat systems helpfully advised that Witch, Jinn, Goblin, and Titan should be told to prioritize fabrication of replacement kinetic bombardment projectiles. Geary tapped the control to pass that to Captain Tyrosian on Witch. It all felt so very smooth and simple, out here on the edge of the system. As the fleet raced inward, getting in among the Syndics where reaction times were measured in seconds and minutes instead of hours, it would start feeling a lot less smooth, he knew. And as those kinetic projectiles reached their targets, a wave of destruction would ripple across the worlds and human artifacts orbiting the star Sancere. Remembering the many Alliance ships the Syndics had destroyed in the ambush at their home system before he’d assumed command, Geary felt a grim satisfaction at the thought of how the Syndic leaders would react when news of the attack on Sancere finally reached them. You thought we were scared, running so hard for our lives that we couldn’t hit back. Now you’re finding out just how wrong you were.

One more thing had to be done. Geary straightened in his chair, adopting his best professional pose, then began broadcasting to the entire star system. “People in the Sancere star system, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet. We are engaging all military targets in this system. All other personnel, ships, citizens, colonies, off-planet facilities, and planets are directed to surrender immediately. Those who surrender will be treated humanely in accordance with the laws of war. Failure to surrender risks being targeted for elimination of military-related facilities and resources. Any attacks or attempts against ships of the Alliance fleet will be met with the full force at our disposal.”

“To the honor of our ancestors, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet.”

He ended the transmission, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’m not cut out to be an actor,” he remarked to Captain Desjani.

“It sounded impressive from here,” she replied. Desjani’s attitude toward slaughtering Syndics had been moderated by association with Geary, but she’d still obviously been pleased by the threats of mass destruction that Geary had just broadcast.

About an hour and a half later the fleet swept by the outermost gas giant, the cruisers and destroyers on the wing nearest to the huge planet swooping over to slaughter the big, slow-moving mining ships. On the visual spectrum display, Geary could see dark shapes moving against the bright, pale green globe of the gas giant as his warships tore past, the charged particle “spears” of their hell-lance batteries ripping apart the unarmed mining ships. By bringing up more information, Geary could see representations of the survival pods fleeing from the mining ships, tiny objects scattering in all directions like seeds from bursting cases. Geary called up yet another set of data, and space was threaded with fine lines arcing in graceful curves, marking the projected paths of both his warships and the civilian ships.

From a distance, war could look remarkably beautiful. Having seen it close up, Geary had no trouble seeing past the attractiveness distance rendered, remembering instead torn ships and desperate crews, lifetimes of labor shattered in an instant’s fire from a warship. Even a great victory didn’t look pleasant from the deck plates of the ships involved.

Blossoming clouds of fragments marked the remains of orbital installations that had already caught the force of kinetic rounds hurled their way. “Light’s coming in from our bombardment of the Syndic military base on the big moon of the eighth planet,” Desjani remarked.

Geary switched to that. The optics of the Dauntless’s sensors provided remarkably clear pictures across vast distances, but in this case the clouds of dust and debris rising above what had once been a Syndic military installation were blocking much of the view. Having monitored the early impacts before the views were obscured, the ship’s combat system had damage assessments posted next to every targeted location. All offensive weapons destroyed. All defensive systems eliminated. All communications and control facilities smashed by the impacts of unstoppable heavy chunks of metal traveling at a decent fraction of the speed of light. If something couldn’t dodge the attack, destruction was certain. “This isn’t war. It’s murder.”

Desjani gave Geary a surprised look.

“I know,” he told her. “It’s necessary. But the Syndics at those bases in fixed orbits don’t stand a chance. I can’t cheer the fact that those poor devils are dying.”

Desjani seemed to be thinking, then nodded. “You prefer an honest fight. Certainly. There’s honor to that.”

“Yeah.” One thing in which he and the minds of modern sailors could find agreement. Geary checked the display again. His light units had wiped out the Syndic shipping near the gas giant and were returning to formation. It would be hours yet before the Syndic command authorities saw the Alliance fleet. Like uncounted human military forces before them, the Alliance fleet had to endure the ancient ritual of hurry up and wait.

Geary studied the Syndic flotilla, its almost six hours time-late position meaning little now. If the flotilla had maintained the same trajectory through the Sancere Star System, it would now be where the display predicted. Otherwise, it could have traveled a fair distance even loafing along at well under .1 light. He would have to be sure to handle that flotilla carefully. If I get too confident about how easy destroying it will be, they might surprise me and inflict losses out of proportion to their numbers.

Still, there’s not enough there to threaten us. If Cresida’s formation manages to capture their attention long enough, those Syndic warships won’t be able to get to the hypernet gate before we do. This is looking very good.

Red symbols flashed into existence near the hypernet gate. Geary’s eyes flew to that point, watching as the symbols multiplied, willing them to stop. I spoke too soon. Did the Syndics figure out what we were up to after all? Did they hear from survivors of one of the ships that followed Falco? There shouldn’t have been enough time for them to react to that and get reinforcements here.

Not too many warships. Not too strong a force. Please ancestors make it small enough for us to handle.

We can’t run from this system without looting more supplies first.

“LOOKS like a dozen battleships and battle cruisers,” Desjani remarked. She seemed happy at the prospect of a bigger battle. “Only five heavy cruisers, though, one light cruiser and nine Hunter-Killers.

Why so few escorts?”

The answer to that question became apparent as Dauntless’s sensors evaluated what could be seen of the new Syndic force. “They’ve taken battle damage,” the combat systems watch reported, “and were probably sent here for repair and refit. Most of their escorts were probably destroyed in the battle where the bigger ships took damage.”

Geary nodded, his thoughts roving back toward Alliance space. Were these Syndic ships the victors of a battle in which the Alliance ships following Captain Falco had been annihilated? Or had they been mauled elsewhere by the portions of the fleet that had remained in Alliance space to guard it while most of the fleet had made the risky assault on the Syndic home system? “We need to find out where they got hurt and who did it,” Geary stated out loud.

“Prisoners should be able to tell us that,” Desjani noted cheerfully. “We can pick up some Syndic survival pods after the battle.” She gestured at the images of the newly arrived warships. “If they’re coming here for refit after a battle, they may have little or no expendable weaponry on board. No missiles, no grapeshot.”

“True,” Geary agreed. “Can they reach any of the munitions depots we’ve identified before our kinetic bombardment hits the ammunition supplies?”

Desjani ran some calculations, her hands flying over the controls. “Maybe. If they haul ass for the farthest munitions depots from us as soon as they spot us. But they’d have little time, and they’d need to get clear before our bombardment hit.”

Geary checked the solution. “And that would take them out away from our path to the hypernet gate. I hope they do make a run for that ammo dump.” He added up the total operational Syndic forces in system now. Sixteen battleships and a dozen battle cruisers, thirteen heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and an even twenty HuKs. A formidable force if they managed to join up and fight together. Formidable on paper, at least. The Syndic flotilla they’d seen in the system upon arrival, if engaged in training, might not have full load-outs of weapons and probably had inexperienced crews. The newly arrived Syndic force was likely as experienced as any warships tended to be when tactics led to bloodbaths with heavy losses, but those ships were already battered and almost certainly low or completely out of expendable weaponry. And, even combined, there were far too few light escorts for the bigger ships.

“What do you think, sir?” Desjani asked.

Geary sat silent for a few moments, using his finger to trace paths through the display before him, depending on instincts born of long experience to estimate how his fleet and the two Syndic forces would move relative to each other. “It’s going to depend on what they do,” he finally decided. “If they’re stupid, they’ll individually rush to battle, and we’ll be able to overwhelm each of the flotillas with a very comfortable superiority in ships and firepower on our side.”

“Will they dare risk trying to join?” Desjani indicated the hypernet gate. “If they know we might be able to use that…”

Oh, hell. Desjani had remained focused on the primary issue, while Geary had gotten lost in possible alternatives. “No. You’re right. That newly arrived force will be told to reinforce the gate defenses.” Or to help destroy the gate. But what about the other flotilla? He traced more paths, then shook his head.