“Belay that order,” Kris said, her command voice at full throttle.
“What are you doing on my command net?” Vice Admiral Jean Darlan demanded.
“Saving all our hides. That is an unwise order,” Kris said, firmly.
“You can’t countermand my order,” the admiral screamed back at Kris. “You aren’t in the chain of command. No one here has to listen to a word you say.”
Commanders don’t argue on the command net. Battle command was not a debating society.
But what else can I do?
“They better listen, because you’re about to get them all killed.” Kris snapped back.
“I am not,” was huffed in offended pride. “They have divided their forces, leaving them open for defeat in detail. I will attack half of them, then press on to the Imperial capital, leaving the others in our dust.”
“You’re making two assumptions, Vice Admiral,” Kris emphasized the Vice. “One, are you sure there aren’t more ships waiting to jump through that far jump? If there are, you’re in a headlong charge you won’t be able to stop for much longer.”
Kris let those words sink in slowly. In front of her, her view of the command net was expanding. Initially, she’d been looking at Vice Admiral Darlan and the two rear admirals commanding Task Force 1 and 2 of the fleet. Now, the commodores commanding the four squadrons were switching from listening mode to looking as well.
Kris spotted Commodore Ajax. The woman looked very purposely at one section of the screen facing her. Who was she so intent on: Kris or Darlan?
Kris went on. “Second point is the terrain. If you’d studied several of my battles, you would have realized the significance of the planet just off our course. In fifteen to twenty hours, they can change course to swing around it and be headed back to the jump, turning your charge through with only a few seconds of shooting into a long, drawn-out, gun duel with them having thirty-two 24-inch battlecruisers to our twenty-four. They’ve got the same odds with the smaller ships. You won’t get to the capital. You’ll be blown to it.”
Now Ajax was nodding agreement. So was the other young commodore who had come up in battlecruisers. Unfortunately, Kris was butting heads with five others who had transferred into battlecruisers. How many had done it for love of battlecruisers or to get rank fast before returning to the Battle Force?
“This is my battle, Ambassador,” the Vice Admiral spat the word.
How did he make such a long word into a four letter one?
Kris needed to change the odds.
JACK, CAN YOU CONTACT THE SKIPPERS OF THE MARINE DETACHMENTS ON THE FLAGSHIPS? she said on Nelly Net.
I’VE ALREADY GOT THE LT ON THE BOLD MOVING TOWARD THE BRIDGE WITH A SQUAD OF MARINES UNDER ARMS.
YOU BETTER DO THE SAME FOR THE TASK FORCE FLAGSHIPS.
I’LL GO YOU ONE BETTER AND HAVE MARINES DOUBLE TIMING IT FOR ALL THE FLAG BRIDGES.
THANKS.
“Vice Admiral,” Kris began, trying to sound reasonable while she bought time for Marines to settle some Navy hash. “It is a poor man who cannot take advice when it is offered from someone with experience. We need to wear away from this battle. Gain space and distance before we engage these interlopers. This fleet,” Kris was extremely careful not to say your fleet, “has not tested itself. Can these ships go to Condition Zed or put on combat revolutions smoothly?”
Kris noted how Ajax and the other young commodore rolled their eyes at that one. Someone else wasn’t happy with the level of training in this fleet.
“Ambassador,” Darlan spat. “You may get away with all your high and mighty carrying on when you’ve got the king and money to hide behind, but here, we’re Navy, and we follow the orders given us by our lawful superiors. You are not the lawful superior to any Sailor here, so why don’t you just run along and play patty-cake with those weak-wristed diplomats of yours and we Navy will see that you get there.”
The admiral turned to glance at something behind him. “What are you doing on my flag bridge? Who ordered you here?”
“I did, Admiral,” Lieutenant General Jack Montoya, Royal USMC said, stepping into view beside Kris.
“Well, get them out of here.”
On all six other flag bridges, there were similar reactions to the arrival of armed Marines.
“Vice Admiral Darlan, as Her Royal Highness and Grand Admiral in the U.S. fleet, I have lost confidence in your ability to exercise your command of my escort. There are five stars on my flag to your three. You are relieved and may stand down.”
“I will not. You can’t do this.”
“I just have,” Kris said, trying to keep her face bland Navy granite.
“I won’t have this.”
“Lieutenant,” Jack said, “please accompany Admiral Darlan to his quarters. Post a guard and see that he stays there.”
“Aye, aye, General,” the Marine lieutenant replied and stepped forward, a big corporal at his side to take the admiral’s elbow. “Please come with me, sir.”
Admiral Darlan yanked his elbow away from the lieutenant’s grasp.
“Don’t you touch me! You are insubordinate in the face of hostile fire! I’ll have you shot!”
“No, sir, I’m following a lawful order from a superior officer, sir.” The lieutenant made the last “sir” sound like they were for something that a cat just hacked up.
The lieutenant grabbed one elbow, the corporal grabbed the other, and the admiral found himself being hustled from his flag bridge.
“You can’t do this! I have friends in high places! You’ll all be shot for this!” were finally cut off when the bridge hatch closed.
Kris had made an extra effort to get the Marine platoons on each of her flagships. Then she had considered them a reserve if she got into trouble among the Iteeche. Well, she was having a problem with the Iteeche, all right, and needing the Marines to settle her human troubles.
Kris eyed the admiral’s chief of staff. She was a young captain. She’d fought with Kris on Alwa and come home for personal reasons. “Do you have any questions, Captain Tosan?
“No, ma’am. Will you want staff support from us?”
“Yes, please. As usual, my staff is thin on the ground.”
“Yes, ma’am, I remember comments about that,” the captain said with a knowing smile.
“Thank you,” Kris said, and turned to the two rear admirals who commanded the task forces. “Set course for the third jump out of this system. Fleet acceleration is one point five gees. Course is half deceleration, half reaching for the jump. Any questions?”
“You’re going to run away?” one admiral asked.
“Yes. We need to buy time to drill our ships and get them ready for combat before engaging an enemy that outnumbers us three to two.”
“But if we give them that time, they may combine their forces and we’ll be facing odds of three to one,” the other admiral put in.
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. That is a risk I am willing to take,” Kris said.
Both men shook their heads; the other continued speaking. “Ma’am, you are not only asking us to follow what many would say is an illegal order, but also one that violates one of the most basic tenet of military strategy as it has been known for thousands of years.”
Kris waited to see where this was going. There were many arguments she could raise. I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it before. I’ve thrown the book away and still won battles. Kris said nothing, leaving the men to stew in their own juices.
Both the men eyed each other, then as one they turned their back on Kris and walked from their bridge. The Marines fell in line behind them, not so much guarding them as providing an honor guard.
Now Kris turned to the four squadron commanders. “Have you anything to say?”
The two retread commodores eyed each other, then turned and also marched away.
Kris took in a deep breath, frowning at the situation she now faced.
“I’m on board with you, Admiral,” Commodore Ajax said. “I as well,” the other commodore said, though his Adam’s apple bobbed a bit as he swallowed hard.
“Good, then shall we set the new fleet course.”
In a moment, that was done. Feeling half again heavier, Kris still stood her ground before the main screen. “Now that’s done, Ajax, take command of Task Force 1. I want recommendations from you before the end of this day for filling the squadron commands. Ah,” Nelly provided a name, “Commodore Afon, you now have command of Task Force 2. I’ll need the same recommendations from you, too.”
“Aye, aye, Admiral,” came from both of them and they clicked off.
Kris turned to Jack. He gave her a cheerful grin. “You’re coming up in the world. Now you’re relieving admirals, not a lowly commander. So, my admiral, does it get any easier relieving people?”
Kris plopped herself down in the nearest station chair. Nelly immediately turned it into a relaxing massage chair. “Thank you, Nelly. Comm, get me a line to the Iteeche flagship. I need to talk to Ron.”
In a moment, the Iteeche was on screen. With his high collar and bland face, Kris could read no emotions, no nothing from him.
“It seems we may have been misinformed about the peaceful state that abides in the Iteeche Empire,” she said trying to suppress the sarcasm she wanted to dip those words in.
“It appears that you may have been,” Ron admitted.
“You want to fill me in on what I and my king may have missed in translation?”
“It was not lost in translation. It was never said.”
“And that is?”
“The Empire is wracked by internecine strife as several satrap pashas reach for the Imperial purple.”
“Oh, damn,” Kris muttered.