Chapter Twenty-Nine

Countdown

“None of them came back?” Munro asked again, staring at the long list of missing personnel. In all, it was nearly forty names, including many he recognized.

Bannerman, especially, would be missed.

“While there is still a chance that one or two teams are delayed, the lack of contact suggests otherwise,” Kilravock said grimly. “I am afraid that there is little chance that this is the result of interactions with wildlife.”

“You mean enemy forces?” Munro already knew the answer, but it was still worth checking. He wanted to hear someone else say it.

“Not just enemy forces, but a combat-focused enemy force.” Kilravock offered, “Bannerman was one of my best leaders, and she was not the only one. I sent some of my best to lead the scouting parties.” He shook his head.

“Do we have any indications of their strength or location?” Munro asked.

“Sir, I have spent the last two hours examining every scan we have, and I can’t find anything at all,” Kilravock said. “The only clue we have is the brief reading we got on the way down.

“Do we have a fix on where that was?” Munro queried, hopefully. He knew his limits and was well aware of his own lack of combat experience. The Line did not send him to this planet to fight enemy forces. For that, they would have sent someone else. Munro was a builder, pure and simple. He was here to make a base and start finding and procuring supplies for the other bases established in the system.

The decision had been made to locate materials on-site due to the risk posed to the freighter ships by the Imperium forces. They had expected them to be able to harass and pick off stragglers but not able to do much damage to the main force.

By leaving freighters out of the assault, they were attempting to lessen the availability of soft targets.

Only the Imperium was not what they expected, and the damn cruisers were the soft targets, including the heavy cruiser escorting Munro.

“We have a general fix only, sir,” Kilravock said.

“How general?” Munro asked.

“About sixty square miles,” Kilravock replied with a determined look on his face. “I plan to have our forces search the area in groups fifty strong. We can cover that kind of ground in a matter of weeks.”

“No.” Munro shook his head.

“Sir?” Kilravock asked.

“I need people to guard the base, not to mention the fact we have located a promising mine nearby,” Munro said simply. “You are the military man, I know, but I need at least a company here and a company to set up guard on the mine. That leaves you one and a half companies, a hundred and fifty men. Use them for the search.”

“Sir, that will make the search significantly slower,” Kilravock warned.

“And I want the search done by an entire company. No half measures.” Munro insisted.

“But, Sir,” Kilravock grumbled. “The slow search IS the half measure. They’ll pick off what they can and move around us.”

“I don’t know about you, Kilravock, but I am DONE underestimating our enemies.” Munro snapped. “I want scans on active at all times. No one leaves the base without a bloody good reason, and our search party will be a FULL company. Understood?”

“Sir!” Kilravock gave an irritated salute and stormed out without waiting to be dismissed.

Munro let the man go, happy to see the back of him for a while.

Kilravock was not a stupid man and was no doubt right about the enemy moving around the search company to avoid contact, but that was the point. Yes, they would lose the occasional person to ambushes and the like, but the pursuit and destruction of the enemy was not the point.

Finding and securing resources for the invasion and blockade operations was the mission, and if there was a force of Imperium out there, good luck to them. He would say here, defend well, and make enough of an effort to engage them to keep them busy until more forces arrived.

Then, when he had soldiers he didn’t need, they could go hunt down the Imperium soldiers.

Munro might not have had much combat experience, but he had years of management experience behind him.

Management was all about using finite resources to the best possible advantage, which was an area where he excelled. It was sort of like a building. Get yourself a decent architect and builder, give them a limited amount of materials, and you will get a house. Give those same materials to an exceptional builder and architect, and you would not only get an extra story on that house but an outbuilding or even two as well.

Here, both he and the enemy commander—whoever they were—had limited resources as well. In the early part of this game, they had come out ahead. By taking out his hunting and scouting groups, they cost him resources. But they also showed their hand a little. A smarter enemy would have allowed some of those parties to return, preserving the element of doubt.

Instead, they confirmed their existence with the attacks, and those early losses could be offset by his more cautious approach in the future.

Munro would now force them to throw their forces against a prepared set of defenses, bleeding them while they were overconfident.

And every day that passed, he would gain more materials and get closer to reinforcement while they languished.

Munro had no idea how to fight a battle, but he could manage the fuck out of a war of resources.

Whistling happily, Munro focused on his plans for the new mine.

===<<<>>>===

The moment Harbinger eased out of the construction dock, Nellie activated the program to build another Imperium-class battleship. They had enough materials for at least one more, and while there was no chance of it being completed before the next engagement with the Imperial Line, Nellie wanted a second of these ships available for the one that came after that.

Seated on the improved Captain’s Chair, Nellie could see not just her ship but the feeds from everywhere within the satellite network. Unlike the active connection of the thrones, these chairs had a passive mode. It gave access to the network without sucking you into it. The active mode was still an option, but this ship would hopefully remove the need to use it as often.

That was the plan, anyway.

“Admiral, we have contact from the Rest,” Morton called. As Executive Officer, he relayed comm requests to her. It was strange, but it was something she would have to get used to.

“Put them through,” Nellie nodded.

“Nellie, I wanted to know if I could use one of the derelict cruisers to add a set of offices, workshops, and sleeping areas to the new construction dock,” Salem said quickly. “It would allow us to use it for repairs in the future.”

Nellie’s first instinct was to ask if they would be keeping the dock at all. It was basically a by-product of her work on the Harbinger, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. She had used resources to make it, so it was only logical to get as much use out of it as possible.

Protecting it would be another issue, but that was something to worry about after the next fight, not now.

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“Go ahead, Salem,” Nellie replied. “But make sure we have it evacuated the moment fighting starts. I don’t want people in an undefended station during battle.”

“Understood,” Salem nodded. “I’ll have Cheape draw up an evacuation plan for when we get it done.” She paused, and Nellie heard a bit of an argument in the background. “Fine! Fine! I’ll ask. Baz, I said I would ask, didn’t I?” Salem sighed. “Baz wants to know if we can put a coffee bar in the dock that isn’t staffed by Weasel.”

“Yes, Salem,” Nellie laughed. “I think Oodles might have a couple of oozes ready to step up to barista by then.” Nellie shook her head as she heard a cheering in the background.

She had just closed the line when a ping on the passive network informed her one of the automated cruisers was under attack.

Focusing on the area, Nellie saw two of the heavy destroyers used by the asteroid belt pouring fire into one of the captured cruisers.

The temptation to jump the Harbinger over there for a weapons test was huge, but she didn’t want to give the Line time to prepare for it before the next attack.

“Harbinger to Talon,” Nellie called, opening a comm line.

Her X.O. coughed meaningfully, but she ignored him.

“Talon here, go ahead, Harbinger,” Prim answered immediately.

“Prim, who’s commanding at the moment?” Nellie asked.

“Cara here, Ma’am,” Cara cut in. “We saw the alert, permission to engage?”

“Granted, Talon,” Nellie grinned at Cara’s eagerness. “But do not pursue into the asteroid belt if they run.”

“But—” Cara started to argue.

“We want to look weak, at least until the next attack has passed,” Nellie said firmly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Cara said, a touch of whine and a sigh as she responded.

The Marshalls were spending too much time with Banjo’s Four Cents, Nellie thought, but she had no intention of changing the assignment.

Everyone seemed happy, and that was what mattered for now. Banjo had bonded with those four, and she owed it to him to make sure they were happy.

The engagement was brief.

Talon came in hot, just off the starboard quarter of one of the destroyers. Immediately dropping all power and funneling it through weapons, their opening Salvo crippled the destroyer. It stayed on ballistic while powering up the shields, coasting along past the crippled destroyer before opening fire on the second.

The combination of the automated cruiser and the Talon was more than enough to overpower the remaining destroyer, which turned and fled back into the asteroid belt at high speed.

Watching, Nellie noticed it was not going at maximum speed. Comparing the speed specs from the ones they had recovered, she confirmed it. The destroyer was running at the maximum speed the Talon could run at.

Crossing her fingers, Nellie prayed that Cara would not take the bait, and for a second, it looked like she had…

“Erikson, plot a micro-jump to the Talon’s position,” Nellie called.

“Plotted,” Erickson replied a moment later.

Just as she was about to give the order, Talon jumped away, leaving a small mass of mines drifting in its wake to greet whatever was waiting inside.

“Never mind,” Nellie called, “They are clear.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Erikson called. Her disappointment was clear, but Nellie didn’t blame her.

Everyone wanted a chance to see what this beast could do.

If nothing else, they could do drills.

“Morton, let’s start some close micro-jump drills. Keep the moon between us and any of the enemy bases, but I want ten micro-jumps in the next… five minutes.” Nellie grinned as the C.I.C. erupted into action around her.

Four hours and every drill she could think up later, Nellie was comfortable with the reaction speeds of the crew, and more to the point, they were starting to work as a crew.

Many of them were looking a little stressed, but that was the price they would have to pay to serve here. This ship was intended to change the course of the war against the Imperial Line, and that meant it had to work perfectly.

Ideally, she would have liked to have her command crew on board, but that just wasn’t possible. Salem was running a station; Dar had his own command, and Remy was spending every moment looking over reports and scan data to narrow down the enemy bases' position. As for Lucy… she was not available at the moment.

“Admiral, we have a long-distance transmission from the Birdsong,” Morton informed her. “It is marked urgent.”

“I’ll take it in the network,” Nellie said, the Captain’s chair reclining as she shifted it into active mode.

The C.I.C. vanished, and Nellie took a moment to check the progress of their escort destroyers—they had about twelve hours before completion on the last two, while the rest were ready to be sent over to the Harbinger—and verified the Talon had not been damaged before accepting the urgent call.

Thanks to the time dilation effect of the network, all of that was possible before a single second had passed.

“Captain Hellena, what’s going on?” Nellie asked as the bay of the foreign ship appeared around her.

The hold showed its age; none of the Ten Suns fleet ships appeared to be new, but it was immaculate by non-nanite standards. Nellie felt you could tell a lot about a Captain by the cargo hold of their ship. This one was clean, well-maintained and organized. There was also only the minimum of straps holding things in place, but the straps were new. In short, Hellena struck Nellie as a good, competent captain but one prone to taking risks. At the very least, she didn’t plan for too many things to go wrong.

“Queen Bonne Chance,” Hellena replied. “I have just been informed that the mission to establish a permanent beachhead is going ahead in less than twelve hours.”

“I see,” Nellie nodded. They didn’t get the four days, it seemed, but three would be enough—just. They might have to fight down a couple of the new escort destroyers. It could have been a lot worse, and if need be, she could form a couple of Orb destroyers. She would have to consider the other jump points as well. There was always a chance they would attempt to sneak other ships in at the same time.

“I know it is not the kind of warning you were expecting,” Hellena went on, “But you have to understand I am not in a position of command in this fleet!”

“It’s fine,” Nellie told her, mentally shifting gears to start planning the fleet's deployment.

“No!” Hellena called urgently. “I can do better, I promise! I know you expected more time to prepare…”

“We have been ready since about two hours after you first informed us, Captain,” Nellie said calmly. “Every moment since then has just been improving our odds.”

“What?” Hellena faltered.

“Do you know if there will be any other jump points being used?” Nellie asked.

“No, it is a concentrated attack,” Hellena insisted. “But I think they intend to try and trigger the jump points at other places, but it won’t be a serious attack.”

“Nevertheless,” Nellie said. “Please include that next time. The more we know, the better.”

“I will,” Hellena nodded. “They are just attempting to draw defenders away from the real jump point.”

“I understand,” Nellie said. “I still need to know. Now, anything more about the hostage ship?”

“No,” Hellena’s face darkened, “Nothing for almost three weeks now. Our spy might have decided to remain loyal to the Line.”

“Then we better thrash them on this attack,” Nellie smiled. “If we can keep their losses mounting, they might decide backing another option is in their best interest.”

“Do you really think you can do enough damage to the Line fleet?” Hellena asked.

“If I didn’t, I would have already taken my people and left,” Nellie said honestly. “No territory is worth losing them over.”

“Refreshing,” Hellena laughed. “But it is not going to be easy.”

“If it were, someone else would have already done it,” Nellie smiled. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a battle to plan.”

“Good luck,” Hellena said. “My people’s hopes seem to be tied to yours for now.”

“Morton, start a clock, Twelve hours and counting,” Nellie said as she sat up. The chair rose with her, shifting its support to counter the moment of disorientation that always came with the disconnect. “We have a time for the attack.”

“Aye, Admiral!” Morton called back as he touched the controls on his console. A glowing timer appeared over the map table, counting down.

“Cabot, I want a full ordinance loadout within the next two hours. Engineer He, run a full load power test on all systems.” Nellie called out orders to her crew while she sent messages to her other captains and Salem, arranging a meeting in four hours' time for a ready check and planning session. “Open me a line to Salem, someone.”

Salem answered immediately, her command station on the Vey’s Charge now sporting a Captain’s chair like Nellie’s.

“Admiral?” Salem was clearly busy.

“Salem, I want to know how much we can accelerate the progress on those last two escort destroyers?” Nellie asked quickly.

“Short answer, we can’t.” Salem looked apologetic. “I need every cent and crewmember doing their jobs until this is over.”

“Understood, thank you,” Nellie wished her good luck and closed the line.

There was one last thing to do before she put all her focus on the upcoming battle.

She needed to send a message to Lucy.

Just in case.

===<<<>>>===

Message sent through the egg.

Lucy,

Well, here we go again, I guess. The Imperial Line is about to launch another attack, and it is probably going to be a big one.

They are trying to wedge open a gap in our defenses, and I just can’t allow that. If they get a foothold now, it will be pretty much a done deal. They will just be able to pour ships in until we are overrun.

Our source on the outside said we will be facing a lot more Capital ships this time, and I’ll be honest. I’m worried.

My new ship is either going to save us, or we are going to get overrun.

It's a binary choice time again.

I haven’t heard from Paren, The Girl, or Robot in a while, so if I don’t make it out the other side, will you please find out what happened to them?

I won’t lie; I am still angry and still hurt, but as I sit on the bridge of my ship and look around at all these people, people who will die right along with me if this doesn’t work, I wanted to send one last message, just in case.

I wish I could have seen you before this all kicked off. If we survive, maybe we can set up some kind of video feed.

Love,

Nellie.