The Black Fleet Crisis_ Tyrant's Test Part 7

"A leavening of experienced crews and battle-tested ships among them will make them better," said A'baht. "We've trained them hard, but training is not the same as fighting. They got their first taste of that at Doornik Three- nineteen."

"A bitter taste, from what reached us," said Carson.

"How did the new ships perform for you?"

"They held up well. The losses we took weren't design-related. A couple of captains learned what not to do next time." A'baht paused, then added gravely, "A couple of crews bought me very expensive lessons that I will probably not have the opportunity to apply."

"You don't think you're going to see home before this is over, do you?"

"No--they won't make any changes now. But when the new commodore arrives, I'll be reduced to a supernumerary--in fact if not in name,"

said A'baht.

"Already I'm little more than a mouthpiece for Fleet Command."

"It's that way sometimes," said Carson, his grin widening. "No one wearing this uniform enjoys the lat.i.tude of a general in the Domean navy."

A'baht flashed a brief, knowing smile. "Or enjoys the responsibility.

If I had had that from the start--" "It's not the way Coruscant does things--no matter who's holding the reins, there are always reins,"

said Carson. "Are you certain they're going to send someone?"

"I think the only thing that's stopped them from sending Ackbar or Nantz to take command is the fear that they, too, might become hostages,"

said A'baht. "I seem not to have many boosters at headquarters."

"I told you--you should have let them make you an admiral," said Carson. "I'd bet half your trouble with the command staff comes from clinging to your old rank. Headquarters is full of newborn traditionalists, and they can't get it out Of their heads that a general should have dirty boots or wings. These lofty quarters"--he raised his hands to take in the utilitarian suite--"are for admirals."

"So you are saying that they offered me the choice of retaining my Dornean navy rank as a false courtesy," said A'baht.

"Oh, I'm sure whoever signed off on the consolidation plan was sincere," said Carson. "Generals are C-one, admirals are C-one--so it's the grade that matters, not the rank, right? But old prejudices die slowly--to say nothing of old rivalries."

"Foolishness," A'baht said disgustedly. "To judge a man by his t.i.tle--" At that point, the hatch opened and Lieutenant Zratha poked his head in. "Admiral Tolokus and Commodore Martaft are in the briefing room, sir. The others are on their way up."

"Thank you. We'll be along presently," said A'baht, standing.

"Well, Stony, time to don my tarnished t.i.tle."

Carson was on his feet by then and saluted smartly--to A'baht's surprise. "Sir, if I may say so, I can see no tarnish from here--and neither will the others."

He moved a step closer and dropped his voice. "This isn't Imperial City. We know who you are, General--we know that you belong. Just lead the way. You won't need to wonder about whether we're following.

They asked me to tell you that, sir."

A'baht showed a quick, tight smile. "Thank you, Stony," he said.

"Now let's go roll up our sleeves."

A'baht allowed Carson to go on ahead while he stopped to collect his briefing officers from the staff bullpen. Without consciously intending it, that gave him the opportunity to make an entrance, sweeping into the room with two colonels following in his wake. The five who were waiting there four commodores and an admiral, from left to right a woman, three men, and a Norak Tull--rose smartly from their seats and saluted.

"At ease," A'baht said, moving toward the center seat. "Let me introduce Colonel Corgan, my staff tactical officer, and Colonel Mauit'ta, my staff intelligence officer. They will have reports for you later in this session."

The two officers took chairs flanking A'baht.

The general wasted no time on introductions or other social niceties.

"As you already know, you and your task forces have been sent here to reinforce the Fifth Fleet in the effort to contain the Yevetha," he said.

"We are no longer here as a symbol, or a warning, or a show of strength, like some sort of War Day parade.

Our mission objectives are threat a.s.sessment and containment, and they could grow beyond that at any time.

"We will operate as a single operational unit at double fleet strength, with all ten task forces reporting directly to me through my command staff. Each of your units will retain its current organization, call signs, and command frequencies at the battle group, squadron, and division levels.

"The one exception to that concerns your intelligence a.s.sets. All prowlers and ferrets are to be attached to the newly authorized Sixteenth Tactical Recon Group, and will be reporting directly to Colonel Mauit'ta, effective immediately. He will provide you with further details concerning basing and the transfer procedure.

Fleetwide tactical reports will come from Colonel Corgan's office.

You'll be expected to continue to provide your own local early-warning and fleet defense patrols, using your recon wings and pickets.

"We've taken casualties and can expect to take 'more, but I will not stand for any commander under me becoming blithe about that fact. We should be prepared to accept every loss by enemy action that is necessary to the success of our mission here--but I will not accept a single casualty due to inattentiveness, incompetence, carelessness, inefficiency, or preventable failures of ships and munitions. Our enemy is smart, strong, and determined, and we're on his turf. I'm asking for the highest possible level of combat readiness at every level of your respective commands.

"While we're on the subject of losses--Colonel Corgan?"

Corgan nodded. "Fleetwide, we are twenty-six combat pilots and eleven support pilots short of our authorized strength," he said. "Those numbers reflect net losses from the Doornik Three-nineteen engagement and the coordinated recon of the Cl.u.s.ter interior.

"Between reserves and resupply from Coruscant, we have rides available-- just no riders. One of the down sides of being a new combat division scratch- built to specs is that we had very few experienced pilots banked in nonflying posts, and most of those carry ranks that ordinarily would exclude them from front-line combat units.

"When you return to your commands, please examine your crew and staff rosters with an eye toward locating a minimum of six and a maximum of eight pilots whom you could make available by transfer. We are particularly hurting for experienced recon pilots."

Commodore Poqua leaned forward and rested her folded arms on the table.

"Between the expansion to five fleets and the number of Rebellion veterans returning to civilian life, none of us is in a much better position than you are," she said. "I know that up until two years ago, Task Force Gemstone typically had forty or more names in the bank. Now those bank pilots are scattered on forty worlds, making babies and tending gardens and flying commercial shuttles--if they're flying at all."

"We're aware of the effect the drawdown has had throughout the Fleet," said A'baht. "But the need to balance our a.s.sets remains. Please submit your transfer lists by fourteen hundred-today." He looked to his right.

"Colonel Mauit'ta--the Yevethan force a.s.sessments."

Mauit'ta slid a datacard across the table to each of the task force commanders in turn. Commodore Grekk 9, the Norak Tull, inserted the card into the input stage on his armored thorax, and Poqua produced a datapad from an inside pocket. The others let their copies remain on the table as finger toys.

"Those datacards contain our complete and most current knowledge about the Yevethan fleet," said Mauit'ta. "That includes recognition holos, sensor profiles, an order of battle and ship inventory, last and best sightings, and preliminary specifications for the hypers.p.a.ce-capable thrustship design now code-named Fat Man.

"The data we are providing to you is incomplete and in some respects speculative. For example, the order of battle is based primarily on astrographic deployment, since we have no direct information about the combat organization of the Yevethan fleet. But as the General has already noted, one of our jobs right now is to fill in the blanks. We're particularly eager for a chance to make a kill on a Fat Man--right now we don't even have a good sense of what that will take.

"I'll let you review the force a.s.sessments in detail with your command staffs, and limit myself to a summary overview. Based on a complete a.n.a.lysis of our contacts with the Yevetha, we are currently estimating their fleet strength at no fewer than ninety-three capital ships, of which at least twenty-nine are Imperial-design vessels and the balance are Fat Men.

"There are at least nineteen occupied and defended worlds, and there may be twenty--Doornik Two-oh-seven hasn't been reconned yet. Eight are defended by a mixed fleet, and we're considering that an indicator that the Yevetha consider those princ.i.p.al targets. Five are League members, and three are former colonies. The other eleven targets are defended by Fat Men only.

"It is possible that the Yevetha have additional vessels cached elsewhere--we hope to start reducing that uncertainty by expanding our surveys of the Cl.u.s.ter.

But the biggest question marks" Grekk 9 interrupted the briefing at that point. "The Imperial shipyards. Where are the shipyards?"

"Yes, Commodore--you antic.i.p.ate me. We don't know where they are or what's hiding in them. The probability is that the Yevetha have three operational Imperial shipyards, all of which may be continuing to produce copies of the Imperial ships in their inventory.

Four instances of duplicate Star Destroyer ID profiles were recorded during the recon penetration."

Carson spoke up. "Either they're trying to throw us off, or they're duplicating systems without understanding them."

"We have an intelligence source that suggests the latter may be the case, " said Mauit'ta. "In any event, locating the shipyards is our number-one intelligence priority. And when located, the shipyards will be designated as primary targets."

"What about the Fat Men?" asked Martafl.

"Where are they being built? Given the numbers, we may need to worry more about them."

"The thrustships appear to be built in surface yards, possibly on N'zoth only," said Mauit'ta. "We've located two such yards, and those are designated priority point targets."

"How do you intend to locate the Imperial yards?" asked Grekk 9.

A'baht interrupted at that point. "All of these issues can be addressed at a later time," he said. "The point to impress on your crews is that the Yevetha cannot be taken lightly. Considering only their confirmed a.s.sets, they have more than sufficient strength to overwhelm a single task force.

"For that reason, I have ordered that the minimum division for the coming deployment will be two task forces. Token and Bellbright will be paired under Admiral Tolokus. Apex and Summer will combine under Commodore Carson. Gemstone will join Copperleaf, the flag task force, under Commodore Mirx. Are there any questions on that point?"

There were none, Joint task force operations were part of both the training and operational routine, and A'baht had left the natural and familiar pairings in place.

But the order itself underlined how seriously A'baht viewed the Yevetha threat. The commodores of the Fleet's task forces were not accustomed to thinking of their commands as vulnerable. The typical composition of a twenty- one-vessel task force included a Star Destroyer or fleet carrier as flagship, two heavy cruisers and two a.s.sault carriers, four escort frigates, and five gunships--a fast, flexible, and formidable aggregation of firepower.

"What is our coming deployment?" asked Admiral Tolokus.

"I'm taking the fleet into the boundary systems of the Cl.u.s.ter,"

said A'baht, turning his solemn and unblinking gaze toward the admiral.

"The big parade is over. We're going to make it as hard as we can for the Yevetha to keep track of us, while making it easier for us to keep track of them.

"That includes recon surveys in force, filling the Cl.u.s.ter with as many sensor buoys and probots as we can get, scattering ghost repeaters behind in systems we visit, and sending a squadron to Doornik Eleven-forty-two to look for a shipyard there," he said. "We don't currently have the authority to initiate action against the Yevetha, but we're fully authorized to use all available force if they show up and try to interfere with our operations.

"In short, we're going to stretch the principles of free navigation and legitimate self-defense as far as they'll go," said A'baht. "If our presence persuades the Yevetha to seek a diplomatic solution, that'll be fine with us. But if they insist on war, we have to make certain we're ready to make them regret their choice."

A'baht swept his gaze across the faces opposite him at the briefing table. "That's what I expect from you, and from the ships, officers, and crews under your command.

Be prepared to fight when there is no other option--and be prepared to win, because there is no other option."

Luke awoke in Mud Sloth's sleeper with an unaccustomed warmth beside him and an unaccustomed memory hovering close to his thoughts. He stirred, and Akanah melded her body against his again, skin touching skin and coaxing slumbering senses to awaken.

He did not know how to talk about what had pa.s.sed between them, or what might come of it, but she did not ask that of him. She allowed him to stay in the restful comfort of the circle of their mutual embrace, making no demands, expecting no explanations. He returned that courtesy in kind.

It had been much the same the night before. Loneliness, grief, compa.s.sion, and a previously undiscovered hunger for a touch that felt like acceptance had brought them to the brink. But by silent mutual consent, something had been held back. Neither of them had asked for or offered their deepest intimacies. And, unpressured, each had allowed the other to enjoy the novelty of not being alone.

They lay together in the sleeper, awake, aware that the other was awake, and aware that the other was aware. But for a long time, neither of them spoke. Luke barely trusted the privacy of his own thoughts, and didn't dare open himself to reach out for hers.

"Your turn," she murmured at last." What?"

"To talk about your father."

For some reason Luke did not fully understand, the familiar inner wall of resistance did not snap into place.

"I don't talk about my father," he said, but it was a rote refusal, without conviction.

Even though she must have heard the opening, she did not try to cajole him into a reversal or probe for the exceptions. "I understand,"

she said, showing a sympathetic smile. Then she turned onto her back, looking up into the holographic galaxy. "It was hard for me."

That small physical retreat was enough to draw Luke out. "It's not as though there's much I could say, anyway," he said, rolling onto his side and propping his head on one hand. "Almost everything I know, everyone seems to know--and almost everything I'd like to know, no one seems to know. I don't remember my father, or my mother, or my sister.

I don't remember ever living anywhere but Tatooine."

Akanah nodded understandingly. "Did you ever wonder whether those memories might have been blocked?"

"Blocked? Why?"

"To protect you. Or to protect Leia and Nashira.

Young children don't know when they're saying too much or asking the wrong question."

Luke shook his head. "I've deep-probed Leia for unremembered memories of our mother. If there was a block there, I'm sure I'd be able to see it."

"Unless your own block prevented you from recognizing it,"

she suggested. "Whoever did this might have antic.i.p.ated that you would have the gifts of the Jedi."

"Ben could have seen that," Luke said uncertainly.

"Or Yoda."

"If you wanted, I could--" "But what possible danger could those memories be to me now?" Luke asked, trampling her offer before she could make it. "No, I think there's a simpler explanation.

I think we were just too young. Leia's memories may not even be real.

They might be something she invented to fill that empty s.p.a.ce you spoke of, so long ago that she can't remember doing it. An imagined memory looks just like a real one."

"And their comfort value is usually very high," Akanah said. "Luke, when did you become aware of the empty s.p.a.ces?"

"I don't know. Much later than Leia did, anyway.

Kids say things--you start realizing your family is different."

Luke frowned, his eyes focusing somewhere far beyond the bunk. "My uncle and aunt said almost nothing about my father, and even less about my mother."