Flag In Exile

assumptions you specified, My Lady, the range to Force Zulu at that point will be approximately six-seven-point- six-eight-eight million kilometers.'

'And Zulu's distance from the hyper limit?' Sewell tapped keys once more, then looked up at her. 'Approximately seven-eight-point-two million klicks, My Lady.'

'Thank you,' she said. She glanced down at her com screen to Alfredo Yu, and for the first time, there was a sharp, predatory edge to her exhausted smile. Her flag captain returned it, and she turned back to her own plot. Oh, yes, people, she thought silently at the enemy fight codes on her display. You just go right on putting distance between yourselves.

'Coming up on turnover, Citizen Admiral,' Thurston's astrogator announced, and the citizen vice admiral nodded without even looking up. Meredith Chavez's battleships had five times the tonnage, and thirty times the firepower, of the battlecruisers coming at him. All he had to do was blow straight through them, then decelerate to engage the orbital forts, and he'd control the entire star system in time for a late dinner, he told himself, and smiled at the thought.

'Turnover on Force Alpha, My Lady,' Bagwell reported, and Honor nodded, then rubbed her eyes yet again and turned to Allen Sewell once more.

'Time to Point Luck, Allen?'

'Approximately three-three-point-six minutes, My Lady.' The astrogator replied so instantly she smiled, then looked down at her com link to Terrible's command deck, still rubbing Nimitz's ears.

'Begin shifting formation in five minutes, Alfredo,' she said.

'Why aren't they decelerating, Citizen Admiral?' Preznikov asked. Thurston gave him a look of surprise, and the citizen commissioner gestured at the plot. 'Their velocity's almost ten thousand kilometers per second, and ours is almost thirty thousand. Surely they don't want to let us past them to attack their planet!'

'They aren't decelerating, Citizen Commissioner,' Thurston replied, 'because they're battlecruisers and we're battleships. They can't fight us head-on, so they're trying to break past us, hopefully without getting hurt too badly in the process, to 'trap' us between them and Grayson.'

'Trap us?' Preznikov looked puzzled, and Thurston nodded.

'As I say, those ships can't fight us, Sir, not and live, but they can pull a much higher acceleration once they get rid of their missile pods. They can overfly us, then use their decel advantage to get back into range of us before we hit the planet, and what they'd like is for us to be so worried by the possibility of their hitting us in the back that we decline to engage their orbital forts for fear they'll attack us from two directions at once.' The citizen vice admiral shook his head. 'It won't work, of course. We've got the firepower to deal with their forts and fend off their entire mobile force if we have to, but we won't. Most of them will be dead before they pass us, even with the closing velocity we'll have then.'

'You sound very sure of that, Citizen Admiral.'

'I am, Citizen Commissioner. Oh, fluke things can happen, and usually do, in battle, but the odds against them are just too high for it to work.'

'If that's so obvious to you, then why are they trying it? Why isn't it equally obvious to them?'

'It is obvious to them.' Thurston turned to gaze at the commissioner. 'They understand the odds just as well as we do, Citizen Commissioner.' He knew his voice was dangerously patient, but at the moment he didn't really care. 'They've got a losing hand here, Sir, but it's the only hand they've got, and that planet...' he pointed at the green light code of Grayson '...is their home world. Their families are down there. Their children. They don't expect to live through this, but they'll play it out to the bitter end and hope somewhere, somehow, a break goes their way when they need it.' The citizen vice admiral shook his head, eyes once more on the crimson beads of the battlecruisers sweeping towards his formation, and sighed.

'They've got guts, Citizen Commissioner,' he said 'but they're not going to get that break. Not this time.'

'Something funny going on here, Skip.'

''Funny'? What d'you mean 'funny'?' Citizen Commander Caslet demanded. TG 14.1 sped straight towards the enemy at a combined closing velocity of over forty-six thousand KPS, which meant maximum effective missile range would be just over thirteen million kilometers. They'd enter that range in less than five more minutes, and he was more anxious than he wanted to reveal. Vaubon was only a light cruiser, hardly a high-priority target with battleships to shoot at, but there were light units on the other side, as well, and they might well choose to engage Vaubon simply because she was small enough they might actually get through her defenses.

'It's just...' Citizen Lieutenant Foraker leaned back, rubbing the tip of her nose, then grimaced. 'Let me show you, Skip,' she said, and switched her own tactical readouts to Caslet's tertiary display. 'Watch this motion,' she said, and he gazed intently at the display as the raggedy-assed enemy formation bobbed and swirled. There'd been some movement in it all along, but it had become more pronounced as the range dropped, a fact he'd put down to nerves.

'I don't...' he began, but Foraker was tapping commands into her console, and Caslet's mouth closed with a snap as the same movement replayed itself. The only difference was that this time a half-dozen or so of the dots left little worms of light behind, charting their paths, and the 'formation' they'd dropped into...

'What is that?' he asked slowly, and this time there was more than a trace of worry in his techno-nerd tactical officer's reply.

'Skip, if I didn't know better, and I don't know better, I'd say six of those battlecruisers just slid into a modified vertical wall of battle.'

'That's crazy, Shannon,' Caslet's astrogator said. 'Battlecruisers don't form wall against battleships! That'd be suicide!'

'Yep,' Foraker agreed. 'That's exactly what it would be, for battlecruisers.'

Caslet stared at the glowing light worms and felt his stomach drop clear out of the universe. It wasn't possible. And even if it were possible, surely one of the battlecruisers or battleships with their better sensors and more powerful computers would have seen it before a light cruiser did!

But those battlecruisers and battleships didn't have his resident tac witch a cold, clear voice said in his brain.

'Communications! Get me a priority link to the Flag, now!'

'He says what?'

Thurston wheeled his command chair around to face his ops officer with a glare. The enemy formation had begun to put out decoys and brought its jammers online, which was making it even harder to keep track of anything in that mishmash formation. His own ships were doing the same things, of course, but the Manties had obviously provided their Grayson allies with first-line EW equipment. First-line Manty EW equipment, he amended sourly. The range had fallen to just under thirteen million kilometers, well within theoretical missile range, but those decoys and jammers cut the effective range to seventy percent of theoretical, max. He had perhaps four-and-a-half minutes before both sides began to fire, and he didn't have time for last-minute nonsense.

'Citizen Commander Caslet says a half-dozen of their BCs have dropped into a modified wall of battle, Citizen Admiral,' his com officer repeated. The ops officer was bent too intently over an auxiliary plot watching something play out to respond, and Thurston glowered at his back. Then the man straightened and met his CO's eyes.

'Caslet... may have something, Citizen Admiral. Watch your plot.'

Thurston swung back to his own display and opened his mouth impatiently, then paused. Six Alliance