engineers weren’t the best people in the world when it came to verbal communications. Tyrosian kept telling him things that left critical information out as if expecting he would know everything she did.
When her reply came this time, Tyrosian spoke in the time-hallowed manner of engineers everywhere as they recited their professional opinions. “We did follow the system recommendations. That was the cause of the failure, Captain Geary. The systems provided flawed recommendations.”
Geary hesitated, taken aback by the statement, despite his growing anger. “Explain that. Why would the systems have provided flawed recommendations? Are you saying the system was sabotaged somehow so that it didn’t provide good information?” The implications of that were very serious indeed. If the automated systems that helped run the fleet became unreliable or were somehow hacked, it could cripple the fleet as badly as a lack of fuel and weaponry.
But Tyrosian shook her head as her reply eventually arrived. “No, sir. There wasn’t, and isn’t, anything wrong with the logistics systems. They’re functioning exactly as they should. The problem lies in the underlying assumptions the logistics system used in extrapolating the needs of the fleet.” She swallowed, clearly uncomfortable but bulling ahead with her report. “The logistics systems base future needs on projected usage and losses. Those projections are in turn constructed from historical patterns.”
Tyrosian grimaced. “Under your command, the fleet hasn’t been experiencing usage of munitions or losses of ships in accordance with historical patterns. As a result, the logistics systems assumed we would have much fewer ships requiring resupply and that fewer munitions and fuel cells would be required.”
It took Geary a moment to figure that out. “I should have been losing more ships every time we fought? I shouldn’t have been using so many munitions or maneuvering so much?”
Seconds dragged by until Tyrosian nodded again. “Essentially, yes. We’ve been fighting more frequently and losing much fewer ships than called for by the underlying assumptions of the logistics systems. Battles have been more complex, requiring the use of more fuel cells. More long-range weapons have been used than is usually the case. None of us caught how that would change projected requirements. As a result, the logistics systems assumed a higher level of need for battle damage repair materials and a lower level for resupply of surviving ships. We have plenty of what we need to patch the holes in Warrior, Orion, and Majestic, but we’re short on some critical raw materials that are used in small quantities in things like fuel cells and specter missiles.”
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Accustomed as he was to the perversity of the universe, it was still astounding to realize that he was facing problems because he had been doing too well in battle. Geary looked over at Desjani. “We’re in trouble because the fleet hasn’t been losing enough ships when we fight.”
To his surprise, Desjani took only a moment to figure it out. “We need to adapt the systems to you, sir. I should’ve realized that, too.”
Geary gave her a grim smile. It was just like Desjani to immediately accept a measure of responsibility, whether she bore any or not. Unlike, say, Captain Tyrosian, who seemed at a loss on what to do, waiting expectantly for Geary’s orders and not offering any suggestions. “Tanya,” he asked, using Desjani’s first name to emphasize his confidence in her, “what do you recommend?”
“All of the auxiliaries are low on the critical materials?” Desjani checked the detailed status reports again and rolled her eyes. Her feelings about engineers running ships were clear. Then again, practically every other one of Geary’s ship captains would agree with her on that count. “Jinn’s stockpiles of those materials are in slightly better shape than Witch’s,” Desjani noted out loud, “Goblin’s slightly worse, and Titan’s stockpiles are in about the same condition as those on Witch.” Geary tried not to think about all of the materials they had looted at Sancere, how easily they could have loaded much more of all of those critical materials. “We need more,” Desjani concluded.
“So I assumed,” Geary replied, trying not to go ballistic on Desjani over the obviousness of her observation. “Where do we get it?”
Desjani gestured to the system display. “The Syndics have mines in this star system, of course. They’ll have what we need.”
Geary grinned with sudden relief. My mind was still stuck back in Sancere. Thank our ancestors that Desjani’s was here in Baldur. “Madam Co-President,” he began.
She forestalled his question, frowning. “We’ve encountered sabotage from the Syndics before, Captain Geary. Asking them for the materials we need, even letting them know we need them, could be a serious error. I don’t see any way diplomacy can be counted upon in this case.”
Desjani reluctantly nodded in agreement. “That’s almost certainly correct, sir.”
Geary pondered that, then faced the window where Tyrosian’s image waited. The engineering captain was visibly nervous but holding herself ready for the tonguelashing, or worse, she probably expected. The sight helped drain the anger from Geary. Maybe Tyrosian wasn’t the smartest or most capable officer in the fleet, but she knew her job, knew engineering, and had been a solid performer. She hadn’t foreseen the problem, but automated systems bred dependency in their users. Everyone knew that. He was lucky Tyrosian had been able to identify the problem instead of just blindly clinging to the flawed output from the logistics systems.
So Geary forced himself to give Tyrosian a confident look, as if he had never doubted her ability to handle this. “Okay, to summarize, all four auxiliaries are facing serious shortages of a few critical raw materials. Unless we stock up on critical materials as soon as possible, we’ll have to cease production of vital components. Are those raw materials available in this system?” Remembering the increasingly annoying time delay in answers, he added a further question. “Would they be available at any particular locations among the mining activity we’ve spotted?”
About thirty seconds later he saw Tyrosian’s face light up. “Yes, sir. Mining activity on asteroids and near the gas giants has already been detected and analyzed by the fleet’s sensors. The most likely location where we’d find what we need is…um…at this site on the fourth moon of the second gas giant.” A secondary window popped up, revealing the place that Tyrosian had designated.
“What’s your assessment of the wisdom of demanding that the Syndics supply us with those materials?”
Tyrosian’s alarm was obvious. “That wouldn’t be wise at all, sir. They’d know why we need those particular materials. They’re all trace elements, found and used in small quantities. The Syndics could easily contaminate or destroy whatever stockpiles exist, since they wouldn’t be large.”
It just kept getting better. Geary’s eyes went back to the display. He had to surprise the Syndics with a raid on a mining facility, which would have been a lot easier if the Syndics hadn’t been able to see every one of his ships coming for days before they reached their objective. “Is there anything else I need to know, Captain Tyrosian? Anything else the auxiliaries need? Anything else that might impair their ability to keep this fleet in fuel cells and expendable munitions?” Not that he really wanted to hear any more bad news, but bad news never got better just because you didn’t listen to it. Usually, it got worse.
Tyrosian shook her head again. “No, sir. Nothing of which I’m aware. I’ll have each department on every auxiliary do a worst-case assessment, just to be certain.”
“Good.” Now, what to do about Tyrosian? She had screwed up mightily and left Geary to find out instead of telling him. The mistake had quite literally put the entire fleet at greater risk, and with the entire fleet fleeing for its life deep in Syndic space, increasing that risk took real effort.
But she had done a good job, or at least a decent one, up until now. And who did he choose in her place if he relieved her? The captain of Titan was enthusiastic but too young and inexperienced. In a fleet heavily focused on honor and seniority, elevating him to command of the auxiliaries division would create a lot of resentment, and there wasn’t even any guarantee that he could handle that much responsibility this soon. Goblin’s captain had a service record remarkable for its bland mediocrity. Jinn’s commanding officer had only recently assumed the position after Geary had relieved his predecessor. And that predecessor, Captain Gundel, had been so aggressively uninterested in serving the needs of the warships that he might as well have been deliberately helping the ends of the enemy. Gundel was parked in a small office somewhere on Titan, under orders to produce an exhaustive study on the fleet’s needs, whose sole purpose was to get him completely out of Geary’s hair, even if it took years to get this fleet home.
Remembering Gundel made Geary’s decision easier. Tyrosian might not be perfect, but the alternatives all seemed worse. And, damn it all, as far as I can tell, she’s tried her hardest. “Captain Tyrosian, I’m unhappy that we’re faced with this situation, and I wish you had brought it to my attention sooner, but you have analyzed the cause of the problem and I trust are taking measures to ensure it doesn’t happen again.” At least, he was confident she would be taking such measures as soon as she heard Geary saying that. “I need your best estimate
