David Drake - When the Tide Rises

Viceroy Adelbert has reported RCN movements, announced a text at the bottom of the quadrant in which the Alliance ships maneuvered for landing. Daniel's screen indicated that Vesey and Blantyre were both trying to call him-with the same news, he had no doubt, and Adele must not doubt it either because she was blocking their interruptions until Six decided he had time to talk to his subordinates.

Daniel checked the full message, then manually cut in the PA system. "Squadron," he said, his voice booming through the speakers in every compartment. "Foxhunt Nine-six. CruiserViceroy Adelbert has observed RCN movements and reported us to Alliance Command. Nine-six out."

Blantyre immediately withdrew her summons. Vesey did not, so Daniel touched that icon with his cursor and said, "Six, go ahead. Over."

"Sir, I have a series of solutions for the Alliance squadron," Vesey said. "Over."

"Do you bloody indeed!" said Daniel. By the Gods, I did train this lady well! "Forward them, if you will, Vesey, over."

He'd expected her to say that she'd done a course plot which would bring thePrincess Cecile into her place at the tail end of the RCN line after their jump. Of course she did; so did Blantyre and Cory, and Shearman, the spacer who was striking for a master's rating.

But Daniel'd assumed he was the only person aboard theSissie who was calculating what the enemy would or might do. Two of James' lieutenants on theZeno would be doing that, cursing it as an empty exercise because there were too many variables for prediction. That was true, of course: you couldn't really predict an enemy's movements unless you had his sail plan at the moment he entered the Matrix, and even then you had to be both good and lucky.

But the exercise forced you to thinklike the enemy, and that wasn't empty at all. Getting into the enemy's head was more important than predicting his next move in detail.

Vesey'd never be a real fighting officer; frankly, she didn't have the instinct to go for the throat. Vesey had to think through her attacks, and though her solutions would always be proper ones, she'd never have the flair of her late fiance, Midshipman Dorst. Everything that effort and study could do, however, shewould do.

Daniel opened her three solutions. The first showed the Alliance squadron reforming forty light-minutes out from Z3 but offset at fifteen degrees to the Zmargadine/Diamondia axis, putting them equidistant from the two bases. The second showed Guphill's squadron in a line anchored at one end by Z3 and at the other by the two battleships. At the scale of the holographic display the ships looked close to their present locations, but they'd still have to maneuver through the Matrix to achieve the formation in less than a week.

The final solution was the most interesting of all: Admiral Guphill's ten ships formed a loose globe just outside Diamondia's planetary defense array. Daniel highlighted this one and said, "Vesey, explain the purpose behind this plan, over."

"Sir!" replied Vesey, her voice suddenly without character but half an octave higher than it normally was. "The enemy will believe he's cut us off from our base by encircling Diamondia. He'll realize that we can extract within our own array, but when we brake to land we'll become predictable targets for missiles even though they're launched from the minimum safe distance. Over."

"All right, Vesey," Daniel said. "But why will the enemy assume we're going to run for our base, over?"

"Sir," she said, "they'll project their own motivations onto us, sir! Over."

She's so very clever, Daniel thought. But she has noinstinct for this at all. Well, neither did Uncle Stacy, and there was never born a better astrogator.

Midshipman Dorst would've said, "Sir, they'll be afraid to go far from their own base. Likely they'll ball up around it. Let's us come at them from one side and grind them all to hell, eh?"

He'd have been wrong too, but he'd have understood what was possible. Vesey was so good an astrogator herself that the idea of ten ships englobing a planet in perfect formation didn't strike her as absurd. Dorst, who couldn't have managed even that modest intrasystem distance in less than three sequences of insertion and extraction, had a better grasp of normal human capacity.

"I think he'll do this, Vesey, over," Daniel said, forwarding his solution to her console in the BDC. He didn't need the image inset on his display to imagine her frowning in frustration.

"But sir, why would he divide his squadron?" Vesey said. "That allows us to concentrate superior force on either one, doesn't it, over?"

Daniel showed the Alliance squadron forming initially ten light-minutes in-system from Z3 because Guphill knew his ships would scatter widely if their initial jump was of any length. They were split into two wings of equal strength, each led by one of the battleships.

"Vesey, Guphill'll do this because he's commanded in four engagements and he's split his force every time," Daniel said. "I think if asked to justify the formation, he'd say that it permits him to catch his enemy between two fires. In reality I don't think he's comfortable with a single large force, but it worked out well for him when he fought a fleet from Novy Sverdlovsk while commodore of a squadron in the Sponsor Stars, over."

"But sir!" Vesey said despairingly. "That was Novy Sverdlovsk. Surely he doesn't think he can do that with the RCN, over?"

"We've caught him off balance," Daniel said. "I don't believe heis thinking; he's reacting because he doesn't have time to think. And Vesey?"

He paused, flashing through several ways to phrase what she needed to understand.

"If a missile's well-aimed, the target's planet of origin doesn't matter. Admiral Guphill started as a missile officer and a very good one; his ships got seventeen direct hits during that fight in the Sponsor Stars. We don't have seventeen ships today. Out."

"Squadron, this is Command," said Admiral James. "Prepare to insert in five seconds."

Daniel's finger poised over the Execute button.

"Insert!"

He pressed the button. ThePrincess Cecile began to shudder out of sidereal space, heading again for the enemy.

Some people saw things in the Matrix; ghosts, if you will, and not always human ghosts. Adele merely felt queasy when she wasn't concentrating on something; therefore she concentrated on things, which was what she ought to be doing anyway.

At present she was using her time to review communications among the ships of the Alliance squadron, which Rene had intercepted and transmitted to her. She'd been busy with the imagery while thePrincess Cecile was in sidereal space, and cursory dips into the commo chatter had convinced her that it wouldn't be of importance.

She'd been correct about the lack of importance, but it was interesting to see that the Alliance's initial reaction had been something close to panic. Adele got the impression of people who'd started to enter their house and found a ravening monster striding down the hall toward them.

She was also distressed by their lack of communications security, though none of the heavy ships were so distraught that they broadcast in clear the way theT 65 had done. The Alliance officers were the enemy, so she knew she ought to be pleased when they seemed incompetent. The truth appeared to be that she felt much more angry about bad craftsmanship than she did about people trying to kill her.

Adele smiled faintly. Daniel would probably understand that, though it was unlikely that he felt that way himself.

Antennas and the bitts to which the rigging was fastened creaked, transmitting strains through the double hulls. Sounds and light were different, flatter, in the Matrix. Some scientists claimed that was an illusion: instrument readings demonstrated that frequency rates and amplitude across the electro-optical spectrum remained the same whether the ship was in sidereal space or in a discrete bubble of the Matrix.