without delay, farther rearward to Achilles, where, combined, they would dig in behind the single warp point through which the aliens might enter that system.
Such maneuvers all sounded so simple, especially when explained by journalists to lay audiences, Erica thought, smiling as a dim mauve haze rimmed her field of vision. She, the all-powerful and all-seeing Vice Admiral Krishmahnta, need only resist as long as practical. Then both fleets would fall back in good order and at the same time. This would occur with flawless ease, even though the fleets were two systems apart and had no way of communicating except through couriers that took at least half a day each way. What could be simpler? she mused, letting the black irony blend into the rising mauve that was the harbinger of that state of mind in which—
one is none,
none is all,…
and…all…is…
“…One DD inbound, Admiral Krishmahnta. Secure lascom beacon lists her as RFNS Bucky Sherman —a courier attached to Admiral Yoshikuni’s command. Sorry if we woke you, sir, but you ordered—”
Erica snapped upright, checked the clock. “Yes, fine. Time elapsed since courier was dispatched?”
“Uh…beacon code indicates seventeen hours since she left Beaumont, Admiral.”
“Tell her to transmit her communiqués and await reply.”
“Uh, Admiral…the Bucky Sherman is a pretty old DD, mostly converted to automated systems and running low on volatiles and spares. And looking at the rads they’re throwing off, a little engine refit wouldn’t be out of—”
“Bring her in, then. Her CO is to report to me ASAP—no, belay that. Have Ms. Nduku in Engineering report to their CO with my compliments and a warning that she has to be back aboard Gallipoli in two hours. She can help with their refit until then. Is there a flesh-and-blood courier carrying an actual message pouch?”
“Yes, sir, a Lieutenant Wethermere.”
“He should be in my ready room five minutes ago.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Captain Yoshi Watanabe stuck his head through the open hatchway into Krishmahnta’s ready room. He seemed perplexed. “You paged me, Admiral?”
“Yes, Captain Watanabe. Have a seat.”
As he entered, Krishmahnta gestured toward a youngish man—he could have been as little as twenty-five, or as much as forty-five if he was on a reasonable antigerone regimen—who, before Erica could utter a word, stood to attention, giving the captain a well-snapped salute. The gesture was respectful, but not at all nervous. Krishmahnta watched a slightly surprised Captain Watanabe return the salute and wave the lieutenant back down. “At ease, here— very at ease, Lieutenant.” He turned to Krishmahnta.
She explained. “This is Lieutenant Ossian Wethermere, courier from Admiral Yoshikuni in Beaumont.”
Watanabe’s eyes flicked back and forth, trying to read hers. “Well, has the balloon gone up there?”
Krishmahnta leaned back with a relieved sigh. “It most certainly has. Look at this.” She spoke to the walls. “Computer: replay Yoshikuni tacplot recording of Beaumont One, 1800-to-1 time compression.”
The computer complied, creating a mini holographic tacplot that replayed the Battle of Beaumont as it had progressed up to eighteen hours ago. The fifteen hours of action took only thirty seconds to replay, but the outcome—and future—seemed clear. It was all quite familiar: human minefields were obliterated with stickhives, then Baldy probes came in, followed by attempts to catch any nearby hulls with SBMHAWKs. Yoshikuni’s response had been similar to Krishmahnta’s: she slightly altered her deployment after each enemy recon phase so there were no pre-plotted targets for the enemy to strike. But here the invaders had only minced about for a few hours. Then they came in strong and fought a sharp engagement that burned up half a dozen of their old SDs in exchange for an RFN monitor and cruiser. Yoshikuni withdrew in good order into a two-screen position.
Such maneuvers all sounded so simple, especially when explained by journalists to lay audiences, Erica thought, smiling as a dim mauve haze rimmed her field of vision. She, the all-powerful and all-seeing Vice Admiral Krishmahnta, need only resist as long as practical. Then both fleets would fall back in good order and at the same time. This would occur with flawless ease, even though the fleets were two systems apart and had no way of communicating except through couriers that took at least half a day each way. What could be simpler? she mused, letting the black irony blend into the rising mauve that was the harbinger of that state of mind in which—
one is none,
none is all,…
and…all…is…
“…One DD inbound, Admiral Krishmahnta. Secure lascom beacon lists her as RFNS Bucky Sherman —a courier attached to Admiral Yoshikuni’s command. Sorry if we woke you, sir, but you ordered—”
Erica snapped upright, checked the clock. “Yes, fine. Time elapsed since courier was dispatched?”
“Uh…beacon code indicates seventeen hours since she left Beaumont, Admiral.”
“Tell her to transmit her communiqués and await reply.”
“Uh, Admiral…the Bucky Sherman is a pretty old DD, mostly converted to automated systems and running low on volatiles and spares. And looking at the rads they’re throwing off, a little engine refit wouldn’t be out of—”
“Bring her in, then. Her CO is to report to me ASAP—no, belay that. Have Ms. Nduku in Engineering report to their CO with my compliments and a warning that she has to be back aboard Gallipoli in two hours. She can help with their refit until then. Is there a flesh-and-blood courier carrying an actual message pouch?”
“Yes, sir, a Lieutenant Wethermere.”
“He should be in my ready room five minutes ago.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Captain Yoshi Watanabe stuck his head through the open hatchway into Krishmahnta’s ready room. He seemed perplexed. “You paged me, Admiral?”
“Yes, Captain Watanabe. Have a seat.”
As he entered, Krishmahnta gestured toward a youngish man—he could have been as little as twenty-five, or as much as forty-five if he was on a reasonable antigerone regimen—who, before Erica could utter a word, stood to attention, giving the captain a well-snapped salute. The gesture was respectful, but not at all nervous. Krishmahnta watched a slightly surprised Captain Watanabe return the salute and wave the lieutenant back down. “At ease, here— very at ease, Lieutenant.” He turned to Krishmahnta.
She explained. “This is Lieutenant Ossian Wethermere, courier from Admiral Yoshikuni in Beaumont.”
Watanabe’s eyes flicked back and forth, trying to read hers. “Well, has the balloon gone up there?”
Krishmahnta leaned back with a relieved sigh. “It most certainly has. Look at this.” She spoke to the walls. “Computer: replay Yoshikuni tacplot recording of Beaumont One, 1800-to-1 time compression.”
The computer complied, creating a mini holographic tacplot that replayed the Battle of Beaumont as it had progressed up to eighteen hours ago. The fifteen hours of action took only thirty seconds to replay, but the outcome—and future—seemed clear. It was all quite familiar: human minefields were obliterated with stickhives, then Baldy probes came in, followed by attempts to catch any nearby hulls with SBMHAWKs. Yoshikuni’s response had been similar to Krishmahnta’s: she slightly altered her deployment after each enemy recon phase so there were no pre-plotted targets for the enemy to strike. But here the invaders had only minced about for a few hours. Then they came in strong and fought a sharp engagement that burned up half a dozen of their old SDs in exchange for an RFN monitor and cruiser. Yoshikuni withdrew in good order into a two-screen position.
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