“At least we killed one of their superdreadnoughts,” Commander Bobby Wheeler pointed out. “That’s a third of their capital ships gone.”
“Unless they have more,” Fran said. “If they had more ships . . .”
“Commodore, we would have seen them by now,” Wheeler said. “They wouldn’t be keeping anything in reserve. They’d be doing their level best to keep us hopping.”
“They’re succeeding,” Kat said. Her voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Lieutenant, how many supplies have been offloaded at Maxwell’s Haven?”
“Just the pallets assigned to the naval base,” Kitty said. “But they’ve put in a request for replacements, Admiral. A couple of the destroyed freighters were meant for them.”
She checked her datapad. “We could make up the losses by transferring supplies that were meant for us . . .”
“Perhaps,” Kat said. She rubbed her forehead. The political briefing Peter had forwarded to her was only a few hours old but was probably already out of date. It was starting to look as though the politicians were giving up. She was mildly surprised they hadn’t ordered the surviving freighters to return through the Gap immediately. “Fran, detail three superdreadnoughts to escort the remaining freighters here. See if you can stagger the details and make it look as though the escort hasn’t been reinforced.”
Fran smiled wolfishly, although it didn’t quite touch her eyes. “Aye, Admiral.”
“Wheeler, inform Maxwell’s Haven that they have two days to determine what supplies they wish to claim from the remaining freighters,” Kat added. “I’ll make my final decision then.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Wheeler said. He paused, significantly. “I should point out that the naval base has first call on supplies . . .”
“I know,” Kat said, cutting him off. “But they are already heavily defended.”
She sat back in her chair, feeling bitter. What had they been thinking? Hadn’t they thought to take a few basic precautions? God! The emergence zones had been far enough from the planet for the convoy to prove its identity long before the defenses could open fire. Some politicians were already talking about treachery and betrayal, but she suspected it was nothing more than incompetence. Standards had slipped since the war. A convoy CO who took security so lightly, during the war, would have been lucky not to be unceremoniously dismissed.
And my people had the same issue, she thought. I just didn’t realize that the naval deployments on the far side of the Gap would have it too.
“We have a problem,” she said. “What implications does this have for us?”
“The politicians are running scared,” Wheeler said. “Admiral . . .”
Kat held up a hand. “Leave the political implications out of it,” she said sharply. “This isn’t a debating club.”
She sighed, inwardly. Wheeler could get in real trouble if someone heard him talking so disrespectfully about their political lords and masters. She didn’t think he was entirely wrong—Parliament had made so many cuts to the military that disaster had only been a matter of time—but there was nothing to be gained by allowing him to throw away his career.
Not that it will matter, she thought. She knew that rumors were already spreading, despite her best efforts. Someone, somehow, had tipped off the insurgents. They were celebrating a great victory that, they claimed, had consumed more than ten thousand superdreadnoughts, even though there weren’t ten thousand superdreadnoughts in the entire galaxy! People are already talking about what it means.
Wheeler looked abashed. “Yes, Admiral.”
“The good news is that we do have a major tactical advantage,” Fran said. She tapped her console, adjusting the display. “Their missile warheads and penetrator aids have not advanced, unsurprisingly. And we scored more hits on their ships than we should have done, if their defenses had been up to our standards. My analysts believe that their superdreadnoughts are actually decaying rapidly, even if someone is supplying them with weapons, spare parts, and technical help.”
“And they will have problems replacing so many missiles,” Wheeler added. “Their fire discipline was appalling.”
“They wanted to kill as many freighters as possible within a comparatively short space of time,” Kat pointed out, gently. “But yes, you’re right. They’re not going to get those missiles replaced in a hurry.”
“They could have set up an automated factory,” Fran pointed out. “It isn’t as if finding fissionable materials is hard.”
“They’d have needed to use it to keep their war machine supplied, during the war,” General Timothy Winters stated. “I don’t believe they would have started making preparations to continue the war after their defeat, not until it was too late.”
Kat nodded. The Theocracy had refused to see the writing on the wall until her fleet was laying siege to Ahura Mazda itself. They’d certainly been unwilling to make preparations for an underground conflict, if only because they would have seen that as defeatist. There was something oddly foul about relying on one’s enemies to kill anyone who took a realistic view of the situation, but she had to admit the tactic had proved useful. She dreaded to think what Admiral Junayd would have done if he’d had a completely free hand. The war would have dragged on far longer.
“And the smugglers will be unable to replace their losses,” she said. She remembered the report on the missiles they’d captured from the pirate base and smiled. If the Theocracy wanted to arm itself with outdated missiles, she wasn’t going to stop them. “Their backers will have to either retreat or find them something more . . . traceable.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Wheeler said. “This may be the high-water mark for them.”
“Let us
