Trexler nodded and frowned. “Too many others have been through it, and there will be many more in the upcoming weeks.”
“Weeks. You think it will take that long?”
“We won’t know until we see the big picture. I think we’re about to find out. I’d appreciate it if you’d stick with me during this. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Where else would I go?”
“You have a planet that needs your attention.”
“I have a sector that needs it a lot more.”
“And the future of an empire rests in the balance. In my mind, I’ve envisioned a battle here that will defy management. If it develops the way I’ve imagined, we’ll have over a thousand squadrons fighting each other. That’s something like thirteen or fourteen thousand ships.”
“I’ve managed a fleet for a number of years, but this is beyond my reckoning.”
“Let me tell you the first thing we learned when we started working on battles of this scale, Harry. We’ve all managed fleets, but in comparison to what could develop here, we were really only managing individual squadrons, squadrons in which we spent careers. When you think on the level of the squadron, you live and breathe the death and destruction, the tactics of ship against ship, the positioning of ships and their firepower, all of that. That’s all going to take place a thousand times over during the coming weeks, but it’s not our job. We’re not going to focus on individual fights and how frightening and horrible and exhilarating they can be. The squadron and battle group commanders will, but we won’t. Ours is a numbers problem, nothing more. We set the harshness aside. We deal only with capabilities, speed and firepower, positioning. To us, every squadron commander is as good as every other squadron commander, even when they’re not. They’re just numbers, not friends or competitors or strong or weak. They’re pieces of a 3-dimensional puzzle that we will move around to make perfect fits. And some of the fits won’t be perfect. Some will die. Others we’ll pull back. We cannot focus on the suffering and death, only the numbers. Our goal is to achieve a number of zero remaining for the enemy while retaining some positive number for ourselves.”
“That’s pretty harsh. Can you do that?”
“I have to. You have to. Our friends commanding those squadrons are relying on us to do it, and they’re relying on us to be right.”
The vehicle came to a stop. “We’re here, Harry. Let’s get to work.”
Steve Brinson, a senior Terran admiral, turned to greet them as they entered the operations center. “Boy, are you a sight for… what happened to you, Ray?”
“The infantry is what happened to me.” He laid his assault weapon on the deck against the wall where no one would stumble over it. “What’s the situation?”
“You want to dust yourself off first?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s grim, just like we anticipated. Do you want Chandrajuski to brief you?”
“He’s here?”
“In another ship.”
Trexler considered. “No, not yet. You brief me, and don’t neglect whatever else you were doing. I don’t mind interruptions.”
“You want to sit here with me and see the big picture?”
“No. I don’t want to get tied up in details yet, and I will if I look at it. Paint a picture for me, Steve, and use a broad brush.”
“Okay, the enemy first. They started showing up about the time Waverly started his operation. They’ve come in from every direction, sort of like an exploding 4 ^th of July fireworks. They’re still coming in, though the rate is tapering off. My guess is we’ll be up against some 500 Rebel squadrons.”
“Are they holding back reserves?”
“I don’t know. Everyone we see is heading inbound at the moment. If it keeps up much longer, it will be difficult for them to reinforce from the rear. They won’t be able to catch up.”
“They might turn around.”
“I hope they do. It would let us focus on fewer ships for a while.”
“Good point. How many squadrons do we have?”
“When they all get here, 160. A lot of them are partial squadrons.”
“How are the Rebels deployed?”
“In what I’m calling ‘units’ of four squadrons. It’s a little early to say, but I’m starting to see some consolidation. One group of twelve squadrons has formed into what I’m calling a ‘wing,’ and I suspect others might do the same, but I’m not certain.”
Always trying to simplify, Trexler did the math in his head, but because of his foot, now crying out for attention, the simple math took a couple of tries. If all the attacking Rebels formed into wings, there would be roughly 40 wings. His eyes lit up at the implications. “You think the others are forming into wings?”
“Too early to say. I’ve been plotting trajectories, but it’s slow work, and I don’t have enough plots yet.”
“This is critical, Steve. If you’re right, if they all form into wings, you’ve defined a whole strategy for us. Put every resource you can spare to working on plots.”
Trexler closed his eyes while Brinson went back to work. Seeton woke him an hour later. He held out a large cup of coffee to him, which he accepted gratefully.
“How’s it going?”
Seeton pulled Brinson from his display. Brinson spoke. “I’m not a hundred percent certain, Ray, but I think they’ll all be in wings within the next week. They’re definitely not making it obvious, and no other wings have formed yet, but my predictive plots point to the possibility of wing formations for a fair number of them.”
“Why would they do that?”
“For the same reason we might: ease of management. Someone has to call the shots for them, and you can’t do it for 500 individual squadrons. It’s not a bad idea, Ray.”
“How many Terran-manned squadrons do we have?”
“Fifty-three slow squadrons from Buskin, and the 10 slow squadrons you converted to minimal crews at Orion III, though they don’t have Waverly’s gunners back aboard yet. That adds up to 63 cruisers, all without support ships. Then there are the 21 original squadrons we put together at Parsons’ World. All 21 are fast ships with full complements of frigates and fighters. So out of our 160 squadrons, 84 are manned by Terrans.”
“Have there been any engagements yet?”
“No. Chandrajuski is working with Sam Taylor. They’re putting a plan together for fast squadrons to probe individual units for Chessori. Each of our fast squadrons will be trailed by two Empire fast squadrons, at least initially. If Chessori are encountered, the Rebel units will be marked, and everyone will withdraw and head for another unit. Slow Terran squadrons will go back to engage the Chessori, and slow Empire squadrons will be sent to the purely Rebel units.”
“Slow and tedious.”
“But it will be effective. Planning time spent now, up front, will pay dividends in the long run. We have to locate the Chessori before Empire ships can go it alone. It’s a numbers game. I think the goal of the Rebels is to break through to Aldebaran I, though what they’ll do with it once they get there, I have no idea.”
“It’s political, Steve. They want to claim the sector for themselves, and whoever controls the planet controls the sector. You know all that. I know you do.”
“Well, like I said, it’s a numbers game, and it’s looking real grim.”
“Actually, if you’re right about the wing formations, I think we’ve won. And in spite of all the hard work us Terrans have done, it’s the Empire that’s going to win this battle for us. You’ve met Harry Seeton. He’s Sector Commander here, and he’s been planning this battle for a long time. Tell him, Harry.”
“The short and sweet of it is that I have 673 squadrons nearby, just waiting for my call.”
Steve Brinson’s face lost all expression as he considered, then his gaze met Seeton’s. “Oh, well done, sir.”
There was silence for a time. Brinson broke it, saying, “We still have to identify which units have Chessori. It will take a while.”
“No, it won’t,” Trexler replied. “We’re not going to identify units. We’re going to pull back and let them finish
