And there’s no way we can hope to obtain another superdreadnought, he reminded himself. We have no shipyard. Even significant damage will be enough to put my heavy ships out of commission for good.
He looked at Askew. “You say they’re not expecting trouble,” he said. “But how do you know it isn’t a trap?”
“The plans for the convoy were put together long before you started your attacks,” Askew pointed out. “And, as far as my superiors can tell, they haven’t changed.”
“But they could be wrong,” Admiral Zaskar snapped. He jabbed a finger at the display. “I don’t see how you can be sure this isn’t a trap!”
“There is always an element of risk in war,” Askew told him. “But this is a target you cannot ignore.”
“No,” Moses agreed. “This is a chance to really hurt them. And then, when they’re reeling, we reclaim Ahura Mazda.”
Admiral Zaskar shook his head curtly. The enemy would not leave Ahura Mazda defenseless. There was no way he could commit his fleet to an invasion, or even a siege, as long as the enemy kept a superdreadnought squadron or two there. It was why the convoy was such a tempting target, he admitted sourly. The chance to hit the enemy hard, at relatively little risk, was one that could not be ignored. And yet, he had the nagging feeling it was too good to be true. Whoever had organized the convoy might have laid their plans before he’d revealed his existence, but surely they would have changed things. Unless they genuinely believed that a combination of cruiser escorts and an unpredictable flight path were enough to keep them safe . . .
The hell of it, he conceded silently, was that the enemy might be right. No, they would be right. Under normal circumstances, intercepting an interstellar convoy, either in hyperspace or at a waypoint, would be incredibly difficult. He certainly didn’t have enough scouts to be sure of detecting the convoy in hyperspace, even in the relatively confined region near the Gap. And besides, the dangers of fighting an engagement in hyperspace were well understood by both sides. A handful of warheads detonating in hyperspace would be more than enough to start an energy storm.
Perhaps we should trigger storms in the Gap, he thought. The old minefields were long gone, but he was sure his people could improvise something. They’d either have to go the long way around or simply give up completely.
He dismissed the thought with a gesture of irritation. The intelligence they’d been given was too good. It was pretty much perfect. Too perfect. The convoy’s path glowed on the display, set in stone . . . except it wasn’t set in stone. There was nothing stopping the convoy’s CO from changing course as soon as the flotilla entered hyperspace. The Theocracy would have been furious if someone as insignificant as a convoy CO had dared to change course, or do anything that deviated in the slightest from his orders, but the Commonwealth had always given its people a high degree of discretion. Admiral Zaskar had envied their freedom, once upon a time. How many battles had been lost because the Theocracy’s commanders hadn’t been allowed to change their dispositions? How many ships had been destroyed because their captains hadn’t been allowed to withdraw when the battle was clearly lost?
“Admiral, we need to do this,” Moses said. “If we can make them hurt, just once . . .”
“It needs to be considered carefully,” Admiral Zaskar said. He had the nasty feeling he’d been trapped. Moses thought it was a good idea, damn him. The cleric wasn’t as . . . unthinkingly stubborn as some of his fellows, but his knowledge of military matters was almost nil, making his freedom to override a genuine commanding officer all the more irritating. “We might be throwing our entire fleet away on a fool’s errand.”
He glared at Askew, who merely looked back at him blandly. The intelligence was good—too good. Admiral Zaskar would have accepted a flight path, but not precise details on just where and when the enemy convoy would drop out of hyperspace. Even the Theocracy reluctantly accepted just how hard it could be to stick to a precise timetable while crossing the interstellar void. It felt like a trap. And yet, if he set an ambush, he would have plenty of time to back off if a fleet appeared to be waiting for him. He could get his ships to the waypoint long before any enemy forces could arrive.
Particularly with their ships running around trying to catch us, he thought. We are keeping them hopping.
“But God has given us a clear shot at them,” Moses said eagerly. “It would be a sin to waste it.”
Yeah, Admiral Zaskar thought. And you’d raise the crews against me if I let it pass.
He felt another flicker of envy for his enemy counterparts. He’d heard that the Royal Navy’s commanding officers had absolute authority over their ships. They didn’t have anyone contradicting them in public.
That is going to have to change, he told himself firmly. But not until we’re well away from here.
“We can certainly prepare an ambush,” he temporized. “But I’d like a clear picture of where the intelligence actually came from.”
“I was given to understand that my superiors had a spy somewhere on Tyre,” Askew said, as if it were a very minor matter indeed. “But you’ll understand I was not given the details.”
Admiral Zaskar nodded, crossly. Of course Askew wouldn’t have been given any details. A man with his training and implants would not talk easily, but . . . he might be made to talk
