“Roger.”
Sweat beaded Michael’s forehead. The Hammers were pulling rabbits out of the hat, and they were not small fluffy ones, either. These rabbits were big, ugly, and dangerous. That many ships dropping this close to SuppFac27 constituted a serious threat. He worked through the problem: An ice-cold band wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed hard. Michael struggled to breathe. Assault Group was in trouble, and the Hammers were sure to have reinforcements inbound to help stop the dreadnoughts. All that meant Opera was in trouble. His first instinct was to turn back to help; he gave Warfare the order.
“Warfare, Command, to all ships, emergency reverse vec-”
Something made him stop. “Warfare. Disregard my last,” he said, sitting back, his eyes locked on the command plot, his mind churning while he struggled to work out what came next.
One thing was becoming clear: If he followed his instincts and turned the dreadnoughts back to support Assault Group, there was a real chance he would lose most of his ships. Firing main engines to fall back to Assault Group would put the dreadnoughts beam on to the Hammers. They would not be able to fire their rail guns, and the Hammers could fire theirs right into the dreadnoughts’ thin flank armor. And the most vulnerable part of his ships- their sterns-would be pointing right at SuppFac27’s defenses; a well-timed missile salvo would tear the asses of his ships out. At best, they would be gutted; at worst, they would all be blown to hell. True, Assault Group would lose fewer ships, but the ones that survived would be trapped in a running battle, pinned by the incoming Hammers, unable to break away to press home their attack on SuppFac27. Chances were, the attack would stall and the Feds would not have enough assets left to press home the final assault.
Worse, the Hammers would have gained what they most needed: the time they required for more reinforcements to arrive. Michael did not know how many more Hammer ships were on their way, but they would be coming, and they would have the dreadnoughts firmly in their sights.
In the end, it came down to a simple choice. Turn back the dreadnoughts and SuppFac27 would survive, churning out antimatter for the Hammers’ missiles; Opera would have failed. Press on, and there was still a chance. It was a no-brainer, the sort of tactical problem set to trip up dim-witted cadets too idle to read an operations order properly.
Any way he analyzed it, Assault Group’s mission had just changed. Any chance they had of getting through to SuppFac27 unchallenged had gone. Perkins needed to forget about destroying the antimatter plant. He should pin the incoming Hammers in place, run interference for the dreadnoughts while they ran in to finish the job, and keep Hammer missiles and rail guns away from his ships.
It was the only way. But …
Deep down inside, something told him that Perkins and his staff might not see things the same way, so he needed to be sure. He commed Rao and Machar into conference with his AIs. Working frantically, he ran the tactical options past them. It was the work of only a minute before they reported back.
“Command, I speak for all of us,” Kubby said, the operations AI’s avatar grim-faced.
Michael glanced at the other AIs; the avatars nodded their agreement. “Kelli? Nathan?”
“Us, too,” his two captains said.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“We’ve considered all the options. Realistically, there are just two. Either the dreadnoughts push on or they turn back to assist Assault Group.”
“You’re sure of that? I need to know I haven’t missed something here.”
“Those are your options,” Kubby replied, its tone emphatic. “We recommend that the dreadnoughts press on. Assault Group should be retasked to deal with the latest Hammer incursion. Let me show you why.”
Michael watched the AI run a quick and dirty simulation of what would happen if he turned back. It was as he feared: Opera could not succeed if the Fed attack ended up bogged down in an endless battle of attrition with a never-ending flow of Hammer reinforcements. With everything to lose, the Hammers would not hold back. They would keep throwing ships into the fight until every last Fed warship exploded into a ball of gas. Somebody had to press home the attack, and he was that someone.
“Okay,” he said. “I agree. We don’t have a choice. We need to push on. Warfare concurs?”
“Warfare concurs. Push on.”
“Concurs.”
“Concurs.”
“Roger. Let me talk to the admiral’s staff to get their approval,” Michael said, praying harder than he had ever prayed that he was going to get it. “And if I don’t get the admiral’s approval, we’re going anyway, and that’s an order.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” his dreadnought captains replied.
“Good.” Taking a deep breath-the step he was about to take had kicked his heart into overdrive-Michael commed Perkins’s staff.
“Flag,
“Flag.” The avatar of some staff drone-a three-ring commander-replied.
“Hammer-6 will be in a position to engage Assault Group in less than ten minutes. I intend to push on to destroy the plant.
“Stand by,
The wait was a long one; the staff officer’s avatar reappeared finally.
“No, sir!” Michael barked. “That will not work. This Hammer attack is a distraction. If the dreadnoughts turn back to support you, we’ll lose too many ships and too much time to complete the operation. We have the initiative, but we’ll lose-”
“You’re not listening to me, Captain!” the officer barked. “Without the support of your ships, Assault Group cannot contain these Hammer ships, so adjust vector as ordered. That’s an order.”
“No, Commander, you’re the one not listening,” Michael replied. “If we pull back, the Hammer ships inbound for SuppFac27 will get there intact. More reinforcements are sure to be on their way. Once those warships are under the protection of the battle stations and platforms, we will not have the assets to break through if we stop to help Assault Group. We’ll lose too many ships. And if the dreadnoughts don’t get through, that means all of this effort, all of the ships and spacers we’ve lost, will have been wasted. I’m sorry, I know it will be rough for Assault Group, but that’s just the way it has to be. Assault Group’s mission has changed. It has to change, sir. You have to run interference for us. Look at the sims; you’ll see what I mean.”
“Don’t tell me my job, Captain,” the staff commander said, his voice pure ice.
“I’m not, sir,” Michael said, “but we have run the sims, and it’s clear that pulling the dreadnoughts back to cover Assault Group endangers the entire operation. More to the point, it is inconsistent with Opera’s prime directive.”
The staff officer’s eyes bulged in disbelief. He glared at Michael, visibly angry. “You leave me no choice, Captain.”
“I am obliged to comply with Opera’s prime directive, Commander,” Michael snapped. “Sorry, sir. I will not adjust vector. Request you provide cover for my assault on SuppFac27.”
“Stand by.”
The staff officer’s avatar disappeared, the grim face of Rear Admiral Perkins taking its place. “Listen to me, Helfort,” Perkins said, his voice shaking. “I don’t care what you think. Your ships are under my command, and you’ll do as you are damn well ordered.”
Michael shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Under normal circumstances, of course I would. But these are not normal circumstances. If I follow your orders, Opera is lost.”
“That’s a matter of interpretation, Helfort, and I should not have to point out that it is my interpretation that counts, not yours.” Perkins’s face reddened with rage, the effort he was making to stay in control all too obvious. “Listen to me, Lieutenant, and listen well. This is a direct order. Dreadnought Group will adjust vector to take station on Assault Group. Do you understand my order?”
