from pooling.
Her reply came some hours later. Lieutenant Haz was a well-scrubbed, square-shouldered man with the look of a person who had been a popular athlete in school. He had a deep, impressive voice and a tailored uniform that looked soft and rich even on video.
“Thank you for the scenario, my lady. Lord Tork has scheduled no maneuvers for tomorrow, so we’ll be able to implement it then.” His look turned earnest. “I also appreciate your confidence in placing me in charge of the squadron. Thank you, my lady.”
He ended the communication. Sula figured that Haz would be less thankful the next time she heard from him.
She looked at the chronometer over her head and saw that it was over an hour before the ship’s acceleration decreased to one gravity.
Over an hour till the next pee break.
She would try to endure.
“It was…well, frankly, it was a disaster.” Chagrin drew Haz’s mouth into a tight line. “We were wiped out. The enemy used tactics that we didn’t understand. We ran the scenario three times. The best results came when we starburst early—at least we took a few of the enemy with us that time.”
Haz’s distress was so evident that Sula felt something like sympathy for how she’d tricked him. She had created a computer-controlled opposition force to battle Squadron 17, and though the enemy was equal in force, she’d programmed them with the new tactics. She’d just sent her own Squadron 17 into an ambush.
“My condolences on the results of the experiment,” she sent in reply. “I have another experiment I would like you to undertake as soon as your other duties permit. I will broadcast the scenario at once.”
The new scenario was similar, except the enemy was approaching head-on instead of converging at an angle. The next day, Haz reported similar results, though at least Squadron 17 had succeeded at destroying half the enemy before being annihilated.
Sula had her next scenario ready, this time with Squadron 17 attempting to overtake an enemy. The enemy destroyed them.
After the third virtual catastrophe, Sula scheduled a conference with Haz and all eight of the other captains. The conversation was almost normal, as the Orthodox Fleet on its circuit about Shaamah was racing pastSivetta at several times its rate of speed.
Sula wore her decorations, having decided it might help to remind her underlings that she’d won battles and killed Naxids. She used a virtual reality rig to look at all her officers at once: she had their faces tiled in rows, three by three, in order of seniority, each labeled with their name and ship so she wouldn’t confuse them. An anxious expression spoiled Haz’s good looks. Perhaps he thought he was going to be blamed for three failures in succession.
“My lords,” she began. “You’ve now seen what can happen when unconventional tactics are used against standard Fleet formations. My question to you is this: would you rather be on the winning side, or the other?”
There was a half-second delay in the reply.
“We desire victory, my lady, of course.” This came from one of the Torminel captains.
“Do you all agree?” Sula asked.
They all murmured assent.
“The squadron can conduct experiments based on these tactics,” Sula said. “But I don’t want anyone to feel that I’m imposing unwanted drills, and I don’t want to deal with resentment on that or any other account. If we’re to conduct these new experiments, I want you all to agree that this is desirable.”
There was a hesitation. Some, Sula thought, were nonplused—they were used to giving or taking orders, and hadn’t encountered a situation in which they were required to express an opinion. Others seemed to be rapidly calculating the odds of their careers being sidetracked.
It was Haz, after a moment’s pause, who clarified the situation.
“My lady,” he said, “the Supreme Commander has forbidden us to practice unconventional tactics.”
Ah. Hah.Perhaps the inadequacy of the Orthodox Fleet wasn’t Martinez’s fault after all.
Though, truthfully, she preferred to believe otherwise.
“Well,” Sula said, as her lips drew back in a snarl, “he hasn’t forbiddenme from doing anything. I have received no orders on the subject whatsoever.” She glanced over the nine heads in the virtual array before her. “I still want agreement, however. Shall we conduct these exercises or not?”
“I believe we should.” The statement came from one of the Torminel, labeled in Sula’s display as Captain Ayas of the light cruiserChallenger . “We worked with this system whenChallenger was assigned to Chenforce, and it contributed to our victory at Protipanu.”
“I agree with Captain Ayas,” Haz said stoutly.
With two officers leading the way, the others fell in line, though some with hesitation. It wasn’t quite the same feeling as her army chanting her name, but it would do. Sula smiled.
“Thank you, my lords,” she said. “We’ll begin with a security exercise. I will now censor all officers’ mail, which will be sent through me for forwarding to any appropriate address. All daily situation and activity reports will be passed through me. Neither officer nor enlisted shall refer to our private exercises in any conversation or mail with any other member of the Fleet.”
She saw surprise and consternation among her officers.
“It is my intention,” she explained virtuously, “to avoid anything that might leave the Supreme Commander’s mind anything less than easy. He has many responsibilities, and he has far more important affairs than whether or not one of his squadrons is conducting experiments.”
She smiled again, and saw a few hesitant, answering smiles among the Terrans.
“Forgive me for what follows,” Sula said. “I don’t know you well, and I apologize in advance if you feel slighted, but I think this should be said.”
She took a deep breath against the heavy gravities that pressed upon her. “Some officers may think that informing Lord Tork of our activities will be a road to his favor. Allow me to assure you that, whatever basis the Supreme Commander uses to determine promotion, performance isn’t one of them.”
While they chewed that over, Sula continued.
“Another consideration is that anyone unsettling the lord commander’s mind is unlikely to survive. First, if the performance of this squadron is not improved, the Naxids are likely to kill that person, along with the rest of you. And second, if the Naxids don’t kill you—” She took another long breath. “—rest assured that I will.I’ll cut off your damn head and claim captain’s privilege.”
She took a few panting breaths while reaction rippled across the faces in her display. Shock, mostly—Peers weren’t used to people talking to them this way.
“Later today I will send you a mathematical formula that is the basis behind the new tactics,” she said. “I will also record a lecture concerning the formula’s application.”
“My lady,” Ayas said, “I have a record of exercises conducted by Chenforce.”
“Very good. Please forward these to me at your convenience, and to the others as well.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“My lords,” Sula said, again looking over the faces in her display, “are there any questions?”
“Yes.” One of the Terrans raised a hand, as if she were in school. “Is this the Foote Formula, or something else?”
“Thewhat formula?” Sula cried.
The Terran explained, and Sula treated her officers to a display of invective so prolonged and inventive that when she finally ran out of breath, a long, stunned silence followed.
“Well,” said the same hapless officer, “if itisn’t the Foote Formula, what do we call it?”
We can callyoua useless cretin, Sula wanted to reply, but managed to stop her tongue in time.
On reflection, she decided, the Terran captain had a point. The new tactics had no name other than “new tactics,” and they needed something better. “Foote Formula” had the advantage of being brief, descriptive, memorable, but offered credit to someone who did not deserve it. A situation, she thought, that should be rectified.
“Call them Ghost Tactics,” she said. “I will send the formula and its exegesis within a few hours.”
