Honor paled. Those losses made her own seem almost trivial.
'I think we can all safely agree,' Caparelli continued, 'that as things stand right this instant, it's going to be relatively easy for the Peeps to convince their public-and possibly even our own-that the momentum's just shifted. Which makes it even more imperative for us to convince them they're wrong.'
'What do you have in mind, Sir Thomas?' Honor asked, watching his face closely.
'You know exactly what I have in mind, Honor,' he told her. 'That's one reason I came out here with Hamish. I know you're hurting, and I know your people have to be shocked by what happened at Solon. And I also know it's going to take at least several weeks for you to be in any position to plan and mount another op. But we need you- and your people-back in the saddle, and we need you there quickly. We'll do what we can to reinforce you and replace your losses, but it's essential, absolutely essential, that Eighth Fleet resume offensive operations at the earliest possible moment. We simply cannot afford to allow the enemy, or ourselves, to believe the initiative has passed into his hands.'
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Thomas Theisman watched through the viewport as the shuttle made its final approach to the stupendous superdreadnought. The Republic's Secretary of War and Chief of Naval Operations smiled as he remembered the last time he'd made this trip. His waiting host had been in a somewhat different mood that time.
The shuttle slowed to a halt relative to the superdreadnought, and the boat bay's docking tractors locked onto it. They snubbed away the remainder of its motion, then drew it smoothly into the bay. It settled into the docking arms, the personnel tube ran out, and Theisman and Captain Alenka Borderwijk, his senior naval aide, climbed out of their seats.
'Don't lose that, Alenka,' Theisman said, tapping the case under Borderwijk's left arm.
'Don't worry, Sir,' the captain replied. 'The thought of being shot at dawn holds absolutely no attraction for me.'
Theisman grinned at her, then turned to lead the way down the tube into Sovereign of Space's boat bay gallery.
'Chief of Naval Operations, arriving!' the announcement rang out, and Theisman smothered another grin.
Technically speaking, he should have been referred to as the Secretary of War, since the Secretary was the CNO's civilian superior. It was common knowledge throughout the Fleet, however, that he preferred to think of himself as still an honest admiral, not a politician, and he was always amused when the Navy's uniformed personnel chose to pander to that particular vanity of his.
'Welcome aboard, Sir,' Captain Patrick Reumann said, stepping forward to greet him before he could request formal permission to board.
'Thank you, Pat.' Theisman shook the tall captain's hand, then looked past him to Javier Giscard.
'Welcome aboard, Sir,' Giscard said, echoing Reumann as they clasped hands.
'Thank you, Admiral.' Theisman raised his voice slightly. 'And while I'm at it, allow me to express my thanks-and the Republic's-to you and all the men and women under your command for a job very well done.'
He still felt a bit silly playing the political leader, but he'd learned not to despise the role, and he saw the smiles on the faces of the officers and enlisted personnel in range of his voice. What he'd said would be relayed throughout the ship-and, later, throughout Giscard's entire command-with a speed which mocked the grav pulses of an FTL com. And although he knew Giscard understood what he was doing perfectly, he also saw the genuine pleasure in the other man's eyes as his ultimate service superior made certain his thanks had been publicly delivered.
'Thank you, Sir,' Giscard said, after a moment. 'That means a lot to me, just as I know it will to all our personnel.'
'I'm glad.' Theisman released Giscard's hand as Reumann finished greeting Alenka Borderwijk and she stepped forward to join him and Giscard. 'And now, Admiral, you and I have a few things to discuss.'
'Of course, Sir. If you'll accompany me to my flag briefing room?'
'I meant what I said, Javier,' Theisman said, as the briefing room hatch closed behind them. 'You and your people did a damned fine job. Combined with what Lester did to Zanzibar, the Manties have to be feeling as if they strayed in front of an out-of-control freight shuttle at the bottom of a gravity well.'
'We aim to please, Tom,' Giscard said, waving the CNO and his aide into chairs, then dropping into one himself. 'Linda and Lewis are the ones who really made it possible by guessing right. Well, them and Shannon.' He shook his head, his wry grimace less than amused. 'If it had been just my mobile units, she'd have gotten away clean.'
'I think that's a bit pessimistic,' Theisman disagreed. 'Based on the system sensor platforms' data, you got a hell of a good piece of one of the SDs before Moriarty ever got a shot at them.'
'Yeah, and I shot six SD(P)s dry to do it,' Giscard responded. 'I'm not trying to denigrate what my people accomplished, and I'm not trying to poor mouth my own accomplishments. But that missile defense of theirs.' He shook his head. 'It's a bear, Tom. Really, really tough.'
'Tell me about it!' Theisman snorted. 'I know you haven't seen Lester's after-action report on Zanzibar yet, but he makes exactly the same point. In fact, he feels that the only reason he managed to carry through was the reloads he'd brought along for his superdreadnoughts. Basically, he ran them out of ammunition at extreme range, then closed in to almost single-drive missile range to get the best targeting solutions he could. And even then, he needed a superiority of three-to-one.'
He shrugged.
'It's something we're going to have to deal with. The next-generation seekers are about ready to deploy-that should help some-and Shannon's already working on other solutions... in her copious free time.' He and Giscard both chuckled at that one. 'In the meantime, we're having to rethink our calculations over at the Bureau of Planning on the relative effectiveness of our units. At the moment, we're still confident we'll attain it, but it's beginning to look as if it will take longer than we'd anticipated.'
'How much longer?' Giscard asked, his expression faintly alarmed.
'Obviously, I can't answer that definitively yet, but nothing we've seen so far indicates more than a few months slippage-six or seven at the outside-from our original schedule. We're not talking about requiring construction not already in the pipeline, only about needing more of that construction ready to go than we'd thought we would. And given that our margin of superiority was going to continue growing for a full year beyond our original target date, six or seven months is completely acceptable.'
'I hope it doesn't run longer, but-' Giscard paused for a moment, then shrugged and continued. 'The thing that concerns me, Tom, is that our projections are based on what they've already shown us and what we've been able to extrapolate on that basis. But we didn't correctly extrapolate the improvement in their defensive capability. We knew it was going to get better, but I think it's safe to say none of us anticipated the actual margin of improvement. Just like none of us anticipated this dogfighting missile of theirs. What if they do the same thing to us with their MDMs?'
'That's a completely valid point,' Theisman said gravely, 'and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't had the occasional qualm myself. I think, though, that what we've already seen with Moriarty and the steady improvement in our own FTL communication and coordination ability, indicates we're still making up ground faster than we're losing it. And at the moment, it appears both we and the Manties are up against a fairly hard limit on the accuracy of full-ranged MDM exchanges. Theirs is better than ours, but with improvements like the new seekers, ours is getting better faster than theirs is.'
He tipped back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
'I've got Linda and Op Research running every combat report through every analysis we can think of. We're charting the qualitative and quantitative improvements on both sides as accurately as we can, and we're constantly readjusting our projections. It's possible something will come along to overturn all our calculations. I don't think it will, and I hope it doesn't. But if it does, we ought to spot it in time to rethink both our options and our plans. And the bottom line is that I have no intention of committing the Navy to a decisive offensive operation unless I'm confident our calculations haven't been invalidated.'
