The Lost Fleet Beyond the Frontier Invincible

WHATEVER Boyens thought of events and the messages being sent him, he still didn’t send any messages back to Geary, and his flotilla remained in the same orbit near the hypernet gate. On the other hand, Kommodor Marphissa sent Geary several updates, advising him of her planned vector for her flotilla to intercept the five enigma warships short of the gas giant, then providing new information when adjustments were required. Geary responded with a suggestion on employment of the two heavy cruisers at the gas giant, trying to phrase his words so that they didn’t come across as orders but still strongly urged action. “She knows her stuff,” Geary commented, “but the Kommodor seems to lack experience.”

“Experience in how we fight,” Desjani said. “Look how she keeps updating you. That’s Syndic-style command and control. But she’s not dependent on being told what to do. Her maneuvering solutions are technically good even if they’re not things of beauty.”

“You’ve just been spoiled by the spider-wolves.” Another thing he had never expected to be saying to anyone.

“Damn right.” Desjani twisted her mouth in a wry grin. “We’re going to watch the Syndics, the former Syndics, that is, fight somebody else. I’ve never had the chance to do that. But I have to warn you, based on what she’s doing against these enigmas, that Kommodor wouldn’t be able to handle Boyens’s flotilla with what she’s got.”

“But you still think it would be a mistake for me to try to teach them anything.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Is my opinion clear?”

“It is,” Geary said. Until he could find good arguments against her points, he couldn’t debate Desjani on the matter.

It took six more hours before Kommodor Marphissa’s flotilla rushed into contact with the enigmas, the two heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, and twelve Hunter-Killers splitting just before the intercept so they could hit all of the spread-out enigma ships. Two of the five enigma ships were knocked out, and a third hit badly enough that it lost maneuvering control, spinning off its track at an angle to its former course.

The flotilla partially re-formed, leaving three of the light cruisers to go after the damaged enigma ship, the rest curving around in an up-and-over loop to chase the two remaining enigmas heading for the gas giant. Geary watched with mixed anger and frustration as those two enigma ships finally launched bombardment projectiles at the orbital docks and the battleship, then themselves whipped down and around to avoid an intercept by the last two heavy cruisers as they came on from the area of the space docks.

“Thirty-five minutes until that Syndic bombardment hits the orbital facility and the—” Lieutenant Castries paused. “Um, they’re moving.”

Geary squinted at his display. The battleship had lit off its main propulsion at partial power but remained fastened to the orbital dock. “He’s going to rip it apart. The dock can’t take that kind of stress.”

But as they watched, the battleship’s propulsion kept straining without tearing the ship and part of the dock loose from the larger structure. “Captain Smythe’s ships are almost a light-hour behind us,” Geary said. “Do we have any engineers here who can talk to us about what we’re seeing?”

“Engineering,” Desjani ordered that watch-stander, “I need anyone with structural stress experience in large orbiting structures to contact the bridge right away.”

It was perhaps no surprise that within a minute, the robust figure of Master Chief Gioninni appeared. “Yes, Captain?”

“You’ve worked on large orbiting structures, Master Chief?”

“I’ve worked on everything, Captain. What do you need?”

She pointed to the displays. “Can they do that?”

Gioninni squinted at the battleship stubbornly pulling at the vastly-more-massive orbital dock. “They are doing it, Captain. Shouldn’t be able to, though.” The master chief’s face twisted as he concentrated. “You know what they must have done, Captain? They must have figured out where the stress would concentrate on that structure when the battleship started yanking on it, and they jury-rigged heavy-duty reinforcement for those places and areas.”

“They could do that?” Desjani questioned.

“They got the stuff they need, Captain. That’s an orbital shipyard. Not a big, fantastolous one like the shipyards we trashed at Sancere, but it is a shipyard. That means they have the industrial equipment and the materials they’d need to do that kind of thing. All they needed was enough time.”

“The bombardment was only launched about ten minutes ago,” Geary said.

“Yes, sir, Admiral. But they haven’t ripped off a piece of that orbital dock where that battleship is tied up and pulling at it, so they must have figured out what they might have to do and gotten started a while ago.”

“Thanks, Master Chief,” Desjani said.

Gioninni saluted smartly, then his image vanished.