Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

She looked around the bridge at the grim expressions her last words had brought to life. “We have to accept this. We outnumber them, but stopping them from hitting the freighters is going to be very difficult. We’ll do our best.”

“Those freighters are packed with workers,” Diaz said. “Any hit at all will kill many.”

“We will do our best! Let me send my reply to Sub-CEO Qui. Comm specialist, can you give me a digital background that makes it look like I am in my stateroom?”

“It is done, Kommodor,” the comm specialist said. “Ready for your transmission.”

Marphissa put on a wary expression this time before hitting the reply command. “Sub-CEO Qui, your offer is intriguing. I am carefully considering it. You understand that I must maneuver carefully to ensure none of my subordinates suspect they may be supplanted. I will give you my reply soon. Out.”

She looked around. The Syndicate flotilla was ten light-minutes distant, so it was a bit over an hour and a half before any physical contact was possible. “I’m getting out of this CEO suit now,” Marphissa announced. “If I’m going to fight, it will be in the uniform of Midway.”

She was back on the bridge a few minutes later, in time to hear the operations specialist call out a warning. “The Syndicate flotilla is maneuvering.”

Marphissa watched, waiting, as the vectors on the Syndicate mobile forces changed. “They’re accelerating to intercept. I guess Sub-CEO Qui didn’t like my answer.”

“Forty minutes to contact on their current vector,” Diaz noted. “He said he’d be going after the freighters, and even though snakes always lie, I think this time he told us what he was actually going to do.”

The freighters were sitting ducks and would be all of the long transit from this jump exit to the hypernet gate. The light cruisers and HuKs the snakes had at their disposal couldn’t defeat Marphissa’s warships, but they could target the freighters and blow the large, clumsy ships apart one by one.

I’ve never done this. How can I save those freighters? Can I save those freighters?

Marphissa bit her lip as she thought. Defending against slashing attacks was going to be hard. “We need to keep close to the freighters. Right on top of them.”

A gentle touch on her shoulder caused Marphissa to look up and over. Bradamont was there, looking at Marphissa and shaking her head in a barely perceptible way.

Marphissa looked at her display again, then stood up abruptly. “I’ll be right back,” she told Diaz, and left the bridge quickly once more.

As she had guessed, Bradamont was right behind. “Let’s talk,” Bradamont urged. “In your stateroom.”

Marphissa walked to her stateroom, waited until Bradamont entered, then sealed the hatch. “What do you want? I don’t know how to do this. I’ve done other operations. I have some experience. But convoy protection? The one time I did something like that, I was the most junior executive rank and not even on the bridge of my ship.”

“I know what to do,” Bradamont said.

“Please, please , do not give me a talk about how Black Jack saved a convoy at Grendel—”

“That was different. He was badly outnumbered. You have an advantage in numbers of warships here, and you can use that to get through to the hypernet gate without losing any freighters.”

“If you know how to do it, then you should—”

“No. You have to command. Here’s the key. You can’t tether your defending warships too close to the freighters. That’s a natural thing to do, but it’s the worst thing you can do.”

Marphissa sat down, staring at Bradamont. “Why?”

“Because you need to break up the firing runs by the attackers before they get so close to the freighters that you can’t stop them. That means ranging out, hitting the attackers while they’re trying to position for firing runs. Up, down, right, left, all directions. Keep hitting the attackers, and they won’t have a chance to go after the freighters.”

She could understand what Bradamont was saying, but her instincts rebelled against the tactics. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make sense. If my warships are away from the freighters, the freighters will be exposed to attack. I can’t put out a distant screen strong enough to stop incoming warships around the entire sphere surrounding the freighters.”

“You don’t have to! It’s an active defense. Watch the movements of the attackers, get your warships out there, and when the attackers start to line up to hit the freighters, hit them .”

Marphissa thought carefully, trying to drive away distractions and fears that hindered her focus. “How do I know where the attackers are going to go, so I can have my warships out in the right directions?”

“ That’s the easy part, Asima. The attackers have to go where your freighters are. If you can stop them from doing that, it doesn’t matter where else they go in this star system.” Bradamont knelt in front of her so that their heads were on a level. “You can do this. You’re good. You listen to the movement of your ships, you feel where they should go and how to get them there. You do the same thing when watching other ships. A lot of ship drivers never figure that out and need automated systems to handle everything. Yes, you need more experience, but I’ve seen you handle this ship. You can do this.”

“Am I as good as Black Jack?” Marphissa asked, standing up and taking a deep breath.

“Nobody is as good as Black Jack. But, someday, you might be,” Bradamont said, standing as well to face her.

“I was kidding,” Marphissa said.

“I’m not.”

Marphissa stared again, stunned, studying Bradamont’s eyes and face for any trace of humor or mockery. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes. Now get back on the bridge and get this flotilla safely to the hypernet gate, Kommodor.”

“Is this… some kind of… motivation?” Marphissa asked.

Bradamont gave her a puzzled look. “Yes. Though it’s also true.”

“How strange. I’m used to Syndicate-style motivation. Don’t screw this up or you will be shot. That sort of thing.”

Bradamont laughed. “Now you’re kidding me.”

“No. Really. I’m not.” Marphissa took another long breath, pretending not to notice the consternation on Bradamont’s face. “Stay on the bridge with me. If I’m missing something, if there’s something I should be doing that I’m not, let me know.”

“You don’t need me,” Bradamont said, “but I’ll be there. Purely because I have more experience at this.”

They were back on the bridge seconds later. Marphissa took her seat, feeling some confidence now that she had an idea of what to do. The worry and uncertainty from the watch specialists was almost palpable when she walked back onto the bridge, but as everyone picked up on their Kommodor’s new attitude, the atmosphere lightened a bit.

Marphissa took another close look at the situation. The Syndicate flotilla was coming in from slightly below and to starboard of her flotilla. Her freighters were arranged in two columns of three, one above the other. Loosely arranged in columns, that is, since even automated systems couldn’t seem to keep citizen-crewed freighters from wandering off station a bit like easily distracted packhorses. The warships were ranged in front of and to either side of the freighters.

Her hand went to her display, tentative at first, tracing paths to new positions for her warships well ahead of the freighters. As she filled in the picture, her self-assurance grew. Yes. Manticore and Kraken positioned along the direct intercept vector the Syndicate forces were on. The four light cruisers roving above and below the heavy cruisers, and slightly behind them. The six HuKs outside the light cruisers, to left and right, above and below, slightly behind them, ready to move in support of the light cruisers or the heavy cruisers. She resisted the urge to look back at Bradamont for approval. Everyone else would see that gesture, undermining their confidence in her. Instead, Marphissa made a show of tapping her comm control. “All units in the Recovery Flotilla, this is Kommodor Marphissa. Orders are on the way for new positions. Execute immediately upon receipt.”