Carnifex. Part 17

He'd asked of his senior naval centurion how the place had gotten so completely sanitized. The centurion had shrugged, "Got no clue, Cap'n. He never asked us for anything but a mop and bucket, sponges and some rags. Oh, and liquid cleaner."

Fosa was left with the only possible solution; that Kurita, at nearly a century old, had gotten down on his ancient hands and knees and made made quarters fit for his emperor's portrait. That was rather humbling. quarters fit for his emperor's portrait. That was rather humbling.

"I saved it from my battlecruiser," Kurita had said in explanation. "When we had to...surrender"-and the word came out only with painful difficulty-"I took it last, as I was leaving. Every day I apologize to it that I and my comrades failed in our duty. Perhaps someday the emperor shall forgive us."

Which helped convince Fosa, not that he needed much convincing, that the Yamatans were not just odd, but admirably admirably odd. odd.

"How goes the hunt?" Kurita asked.

"Not well," the captain said. "Admittedly we've only been on station two weeks but..."

"But given the frequency of reported piratical attacks near this section of the coast a week should have seen at least two," the commodore supplied.

Fosa nodded. "Yes, but there's been nothing. Attacks north of us, yes. Attacks south of us, yes. Nothing here."

The Yamatan quoted, "All warfare is based on deception. Therefore, when capable, feign incapacity; when active, inactivity. When near, make it appear that you are far away; when far away, that you are near. Offer the enemy a bait to lure him, feign disorder and strike him. When he concentrates, prepare against him."

"Musashi?" the Balboan asked. "The Book of Five Rings?"

Kurita shook his grey head. "Sun Tzu."

"Do you think someone is reporting on our positions and dispositions, Commodore?"

"Unquestionably," Kurita answered. "The only real question is who."

"Not the Federated States Navy," Fosa said. "Even if the Legion is in bad grace with their government their armed forces are still strong friends."

"I agree," the Yamatan said. "That leaves the Tauran Union, the Volgans, the Zhong, and the UEPF. In any case, it hardly matters who who, for our purposes. What matters is the fact that that someone, to all appearances, is is reporting on us." reporting on us."

"I wonder if the FSN can shed any light," the Yamatan wondered. "After all, they're rather...oh.... capable. capable."

FSS Ironsides, Xamar Coast, 6/6/467 The twin-engined Cricket B came down at an angle that made the deck crew blanch. It didn't roll but hit, bounced once and then again, then came to an almost unbelievable stop.

"It ain't natural," p.r.o.nounced one of the deck crew. His purple overalls marked him as a "grape," or fuel handler.

An officer from the bridge crew was on hand, detailed to escort Fosa and his small party down to the captain's port cabin. The party didn't include Kurita.

"I do not hate them, Captain-san," the Yamatan had explained, "but it would be...awkward, even so. My family was in Motonari, you see." Motonari was one of the two cities in Yamato atomic bombed by the FSC.

Being led through the carrier's innards was a less intimidating exercise for Fosa than had been the approach that showed how completely it dwarfed his own command. One hundred thousand tons and more. G.o.d, what a ship. One hundred thousand tons and more. G.o.d, what a ship.

The pa.s.sageways seemed more to a human scale to Fosa, and then he came to the hangar deck.

I could almost fit Dos Lindas Dos Lindas down in it, down in it, he thought in awe and wonder. He did some measurement by eye. he thought in awe and wonder. He did some measurement by eye. No, I No, I could could fit fit Dos Lindas Dos Lindas into it, if we ripped off both flight decks. into it, if we ripped off both flight decks. Then he consoled himself with the thought, Then he consoled himself with the thought, It's not the size of the ship in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the ship. That, and the rules of engagement. It's not the size of the ship in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the ship. That, and the rules of engagement.

The rest of the journey afoot was uneventful, but informative. Twice Fosa stopped to ask his escort officer questions about the ship's operation. Both times he made a mental note to at least consider changing SOP on the Dos Lindas. Dos Lindas.

The captain met him warmly by his port cabin's hatch. Leading him into the quarters, somewhat larger than Fosa's and Kurita's combined, the Ironside's Ironside's captain made the introductions, the important one of which was to the admiral. captain made the introductions, the important one of which was to the admiral.

Fosa was surprised to see a bottle of rum sitting on the captain's table. "I thought all FSS ships were dry," he said.

The admiral shrugged. "Yes and no. The chaplain is allowed sacramental alcohol, and the ship's medical staff keeps medicinal brandy. In our case, the chaplain believes in having sacramental bourbon and scotch, rum and cognac, along with the wine. That particular bottle was being held as medicinal rum until it could be properly blessed."

"I see. How..." Fosa wanted to say "morally ingenious" but didn't know how far his welcome stayed. He let it go.

"We can can be morally ingenious," the admiral said. be morally ingenious," the admiral said.

Lunch and small talk followed. It was a decent meal, but no better than what was served aboard Dos Lindas Dos Lindas, and perhaps not as good. Fosa made a point of inviting both the captain and the admiral, as well as the other two officers present, signals and operations, to come aboard his own ship at their earliest convenience.

"Regretfully, Legate Fosa, we cannot," the admiral answered for all. "If we did, it would be lending official FSC sanction to what we suspect-to be honest, what we hope hope-is your mission and your rules of engagement. That, our government and the...people...in charge would never tolerate."

"I understand," Fosa agreed. "Perhaps in some future time, some happier time for your service."

Ironside's skipper said, "The admiral meant what he said, Legate. We sincerely hope you will be able to do what we are expressly forbidden from doing, which is to say, we hope you can do even the slightest good." The captain pushed a folder over to Fosa. "Take a look at that." skipper said, "The admiral meant what he said, Legate. We sincerely hope you will be able to do what we are expressly forbidden from doing, which is to say, we hope you can do even the slightest good." The captain pushed a folder over to Fosa. "Take a look at that."

Fosa opened the file and saw that it contained a couple of dozen eight-by-ten glossies and a couple of printed sheets of paper. When he looked carefully at the first photo he said, "My G.o.d..."

The admiral answered, "Our G.o.d had nothing to do with it."

The photos were of the ma.s.sacre, the butchery, of the crew of the Estrella de Castilla. Estrella de Castilla.

Fosa shuffled through the photos as quickly as he could. When he came to the first printed sheet he began to read. Halfway through the rules of engagement he exclaimed, "How in the h.e.l.l can they expect you to do anything under this nonsense?"

"They don't expect us to do do anything, Legate," The admiral explained. "They expect us to make the anything, Legate," The admiral explained. "They expect us to make the appearance appearance of doing something. Don't you have progressives at home? Appearances matter a lot more to them than actually of doing something. Don't you have progressives at home? Appearances matter a lot more to them than actually doing doing anything." anything."

Fosa took from his white uniform blouse a folded piece of paper of his own. "My commander gave me full lat.i.tude to write my own ROE. This is ours."

The admiral scanned quickly, then pa.s.sed the paper on to his subordinate.

"Admirably direct," was the admiral's sole comment.

"Admirably traditional," said the signals chief when the paper reached him.

"Legate," the captain asked, "what does your fleet consist of?"

Fosa laid out the composition of the fleet, omitting only the precise nature of the recreation ship, dubbed "Fosa's Floating Fornication Frigate" by all the crews of his task force. As he spoke, the ops officer began jotting onto a notepad.

"So you have no long-range strategic recon," observed the ops officer for the carrier battle group. "We can make up that lack."

"It would help," Fosa agreed. "But... can can you?" you?"

"Officially no," the admiral said. "Unofficially, I think we can provide that and quite a bit more. But it will all have to be under the table."

"Under the table would be fine. But I think I am under a looking gla.s.s. Someone Someone is telling the Xamaris where my ships and planes are at any given time. Nothing else can explain how they've been so successful at avoiding us. It can't be all bad luck." is telling the Xamaris where my ships and planes are at any given time. Nothing else can explain how they've been so successful at avoiding us. It can't be all bad luck."

"It isn't. I can't tell you how how I know; but I can tell you that I I know; but I can tell you that I do do know that the UEPF is sending data to someone inside Xamar. And it's not their amba.s.sador because they, like everyone else, pulled their emba.s.sy out of Xamar years ago, when the place collapsed." know that the UEPF is sending data to someone inside Xamar. And it's not their amba.s.sador because they, like everyone else, pulled their emba.s.sy out of Xamar years ago, when the place collapsed."

"The UEPF!? d.a.m.n. Then I haven't a prayer of doing any good."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the ops officer disagreed. "Tell me; can you put those two patrol boats of yours back aboard their tender...mmmm, maybe preferably just before a serious storm?"

"Sure," Fosa shrugged. "But why?"

"Because if you can re-embark them aboard your ship, and get your ship close to the Ironsides Ironsides, you can conceivably unload them and hide them under our flight deck. The UEPF may lose track of them, for a while, at least."

"Okay," Fosa said, "I can see that working once. But after that?"

"After that, something else." It was the ops officer's turn to shrug. "Give us a little time."

"All warfare is based on deception," Fosa said and laughed at himself slightly.

"Clausewitz?" asked the admiral.

"No, sir, Sun Tzu. My...well, you might call him my supercargo, Commodore Kurita, quoted it to me just days ago."

"Tadeo Kurita?" the admiral asked.

"Yes, sir, that's him."

The admiral whistled. "He's still alive? Tough old bird. My father told me about Kurita, about him leading what was left of Yamato's Second Fleet in breaking free and running for home after they lost at the Battle of Kuantan. The old man said he'd never seen such seamanship or such guts."

"I think that would pretty much describe Commodore Kurita, Admiral."

Kamakura, Yamato, 8/6/467 An airship pa.s.sed by gracefully overhead, bearing tourists who wanted to view the sacred cherry orchards from the vantage point of the sky. The cherry trees, or sakura sakura, were in bloom, though a few petals were beginning to fall.

"Kurita advises patience," said Saito to Yamagata, as they sat below, under the cherry trees. "He says the pirates are being very coy and making good use of the considerable aid they receive from on high. He further advises that the ronin ronin fleet will, in his opinion, produce good results with time." fleet will, in his opinion, produce good results with time."

Yamagata said nothing for a while, his attention seemingly fixed on a cherry blossom making its leap into immortality. It fluttered and spun to the ground, joining there the very few which had chosen to die young, in the full bloom of glorious youth.

During the migration from the home islands of Old Earth, it had been impossible to carry fully grown trees. Instead, the settlers had taken along saplings, a few, seeds and some cuttings, which they had carefully nursed into growth. Even then, many-most-had not survived. These trees were descendants of those who had and were, like the Yamatans themselves, of remarkably hardy and tough stock. Raising the trees had been as high a priority as the growing of food, for without these reminders of both the beauty of life, as well as its ephemeral nature, the settlers had feared losing some part of their essence.

With a sigh, Yamagata said, "The patience of the program's backers is not unlimited. We must have results, and soon. We lost another ship's crew yesterday. The Federated States Navy stood by and allowed it to happen because the pirates threatened to kill the crew if they were interfered with."

"His Majesty still will not allow our fleet to intervene," Saito said.

Yamagata grunted. "It is the curse of those who allow others to be their primary line of defense. It is the curse of being insufficiently self reliant."

"It is the curse of losing a war," Saito corrected. "Still, let us trust Kurita's judgment. It is not his his fault we lost, last time. He will not permit us to lose again." fault we lost, last time. He will not permit us to lose again."

Yamagata sighed. "I am still not sure it was wise to tell Kurita about our special special source of information. We haven't even told our own defense forces or the FSC." source of information. We haven't even told our own defense forces or the FSC."

Saito clapped his colleague on the shoulder. "Do not fear, friend. He will not divulge anything that cannot be disguised as coming from somewhere else."

9/6/467 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Xamar Coast A kimono-wearing and tabi- and tatami-shod Kurita stared down at the display showing the deployment of the ships of the task force around the carrier. His normal serene smile was missing, which caused Fosa to infer that something with his deployment was drastically wrong. He asked as much.

Kurita answered. "Yes, I am concerned, Captain-san. No matter that the Ironsides Ironsides Task Force may warn you of the approach of danger. I a.s.sure you that before they can act, they will have to get permission from the FSN or even the Executive Mansion in Hamilton. By the time they are allowed to, it will probably be too late." Task Force may warn you of the approach of danger. I a.s.sure you that before they can act, they will have to get permission from the FSN or even the Executive Mansion in Hamilton. By the time they are allowed to, it will probably be too late."

"You are thinking of Farsian submarines, Commodore?" Fosa asked.

The Yamatan nodded, then said, "I would not expect them soon, certainly not until we begin to show some success. But I would would expect them. It is better to be ready, always. And we must also consider the possibility of suicidal dive bombers." expect them. It is better to be ready, always. And we must also consider the possibility of suicidal dive bombers."

Fosa had considered that threat when outfitting the ship. Indeed, the mix of air defense guns and missiles aboard the Dos Lindas Dos Lindas was very powerful for that reason; that, and the possibility of suicidal boats. The task force had more light cannon and heavy machine gun power than the entire was very powerful for that reason; that, and the possibility of suicidal boats. The task force had more light cannon and heavy machine gun power than the entire Ironsides Ironsides Battle Group. Battle Group.

His own experience of naval warfare was...well, actually it wasn't. The Commodore, on the other hand, had more real experience than the entire crew of the Ironsides Ironsides and all its escorts, and all its escorts, combined. combined. He'd listen to Kurita's advice, he decided. He'd listen to Kurita's advice, he decided.

"Order the escorts to increase dispersion from the carrier to twelve miles," Fosa told the radio watch.

Kurita's serene smile returned.

"How goes it with shipping aboard the patrol boats?" he asked.

"They're already on the deck of the transport," Fosa answered.

"It's going to be a big surprise, you know, when the Xamaris attempt to take another boat under the nose of the FSN and discover that there's someone else there not so constrained by progressive rules of engagement." Kurita gave a slight chuckle then glanced over at the meteorology chart.

"Yes, Commodore, the storm is coming along nicely. By this time tomorrow we will be fighting it. The cargo ship carrying the patrol boats, the BdL Harpy Eagle, BdL Harpy Eagle, will broadcast that it is in trouble, but we shall have our own troubles. The mighty FSS will broadcast that it is in trouble, but we shall have our own troubles. The mighty FSS Ironsides Ironsides will ride to the rescue. When the storm clears, the will ride to the rescue. When the storm clears, the Harpy Harpy will be nicely alongside the will be nicely alongside the Ironsides Ironsides with the boats hauled up and undercover of the flight deck with the boats hauled up and undercover of the flight deck. And then we wait, but not for long." And then we wait, but not for long."

"Indeed, hopefully not for long, Captain-san. My...principles are growing anxious for some indicator of success."

The next day's morning sky was red and angry. By noon it had turned black and forbidding. By nightfall the smaller ships of the flotilla were fighting for their lives amidst thirty and forty foot waves that threatened to swamp them with each buffeting. Partly from the wind and waves, and partly to avoid ramming each other in the murk, the ships scattered.

Almost, almost almost, the Harpy Harpy was not pretending when it made the call to was not pretending when it made the call to Ironsides Ironsides that she was in trouble. By the time the FSN carrier arrived the that she was in trouble. By the time the FSN carrier arrived the Harpy's Harpy's hull and decks were groaning under the strain, half the crew puking down below decks and most of the rest puking above. hull and decks were groaning under the strain, half the crew puking down below decks and most of the rest puking above.

Ironsides took a position into the wind from the smaller cargo ship, placing it in the lee and protecting it to some extent from the buffeting. took a position into the wind from the smaller cargo ship, placing it in the lee and protecting it to some extent from the buffeting. Harpy Harpy's captain went below to bid farewell to the crews of the patrol boats. He knew it might be a last farewell.

Chief Warrant Officer Pedraz, commanding the Santisima Trinidad Santisima Trinidad, looked out at the white-tipped, green-hued h.e.l.l separating the two ships and thought, not for the first time, Mama never told me there'd be days like these. Mama never told me there'd be days like these.

If he hadn't been so brown Pedraz would have been white. Even as it was, he had turned relatively pale with fear. His kind of boat was never intended to sail in this kind of weather. And then...but he really didn't want to think about the risks of getting away from the Harpy Harpy and close to the and close to the Ironsides. Ironsides. Most especially did he not want to think about hooking up to and being hauled up by the huge supercarrier. Most especially did he not want to think about hooking up to and being hauled up by the huge supercarrier.

The Harpy Harpy's captain walked up and placed a hand on Pedraz's broad shoulder. "Are you ready, Chief?"

Exhaling, Pedraz nodded that he was.

"No time like the present then. Take advantage of the protection Ironsides Ironsides is offering while we can." is offering while we can."

Gulping, Pedraz nodded and shouted for the deck crew to raise and lower the Trinidad Trinidad over the side. As the lines began to tighten, Pedraz scrambled aboard. over the side. As the lines began to tighten, Pedraz scrambled aboard.

The warrant and the captain had gone over this at length. If there were no crew aboard, it would be long minutes before the Trinidad Trinidad could get away from the potentially crushing hull of the could get away from the potentially crushing hull of the Harpy Harpy. If the crew was aboard and something went wrong with the lowering, they might all be killed. Since mission had priority...