Back | Next
Contents

Chapter Thirty-Two


Spin One


“Okay, folks, if I could get your attention, please,” Bowden said to the assembled pilots and crews in the large conference facility just over the line in SpinDog country. He was getting some of his strength back, although the day’s events were beginning to take their toll.

He smiled at the group, which, for the first time, was somewhat comingled. Gray sat with black in some places—not all, but it was a whole lot more than at their first meeting—and the feeling of accomplishment warmed Bowden. This may all work, after all. As soon as he’d had the thought, the corollary presented itself. Until the shit hits the fan, anyway, and things start falling apart. That’s when the imperative to do things as “us versus them” will want to take over again. Bowden cleared his throat and continued, “I’d love to have more time to practice this, but we’re going to have to go with what we have right now.”

“Why is that?” Targ J’axon asked from where he was sitting next to Reetan Taregon. Interestingly enough, the two had become . . . if not “friends,” per se, then something very close to it, based on the mutual admiration of each other’s skills as a pilot and leader.

“Because the Kulsians are inbound. They are currently in their retro-burns, and we need to get into our positions before they turn around and begin looking at the planet again.”

“Why are we here, then, and not in our ships?” Reetan asked. Targ nodded and started to rise.

“Seats!” Bowden ordered, as many of the crowd started rising to follow Targ’s lead. “There has been an . . . issue that we need to address, which we’ve had to accommodate by tweaking the plan slightly.”

“It was a good plan,” Targ said. “I may not have liked it when you first proposed it, but I have come to see the value in it. What has changed?”

“The lead ship of the Kulsian force is a little bigger than their standard corvette,” Bowden replied. He’d destroyed the imagery of the ship after his staff had seen it. When asked why, he’d replied, “So none of the pilots see it. It’s better if they don’t know ahead of time. They will either be all-in when they see it, or they will run. As running means dying, I’m hoping they will be all-in.” He didn’t feel good about the decision—it was too much like lying for his taste—but he’d stood by it.

“How much bigger?” Targ asked, obviously sensing his reluctance to talk about it.

“Quite a bit,” Bowden replied, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to scare them. “But—like I said—we’ve come up with a new strategy that we will use to defeat it with, without having to go toe to toe with it where our ships will get hammered.”

“I see,” said Reetan with a smirk. “And will you be briefing us on this wonderful strategy of yours?”

“Absolutely,” Bowden said. He flipped over the first piece of butcher-block paper on the easel next to him. “I like to call this new strategy Operation Bait and Switch.”

* * *

“So, that’s it,” Bowden said, thirty minutes later after he’d explained his plan and everyone’s parts in it. They hadn’t been what he would have called “wildly supportive” of it, but they’d at least seen the necessities involved and had decided it was probably the best use of their assets. “Are there any questions?”

Reetan cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t mention me. You have this huge plan with lots of ‘moving pieces’ as you called them—which I remember you saying were ‘bad things’—and yet you did not mention the part you wanted me to play in it.”

“That’s because I wanted to talk to you privately to discuss your part.”

“Why not in front of everyone? Are you still mad at me? I have come to respect even Targ here”—he patted the SpinDog on the shoulder—“and I have done everything you’ve asked me to. I am widely acknowledged as one of the best pilots we have, perhaps even better than Targ . . . Why am I not part of the plan?”

“You are part of the plan, just not a part I’ve discussed yet.”

“And what part is that?”

“I want you to lead the reserve force. It will be made up of an Aegis corvette—led by you, Reetan—and four regular corvettes.” He named the four pilots who would be with him.

Reetan shook his head. “I still don’t get it. What have I done to offend you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you marginalizing me?”

“Marginalizing you? Nothing could be further from the truth. You have the most important job in the entire fleet. In fact, it was the position that I was going to claim for myself, until we had to implement the bait element.”

“It is more important than leading the vanguard of our fleet into battle and crushing the Kulsian fleet into its component atoms?”

“Yes, very much so.” Bowden smiled. “You have heard me say, ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy’?”

“More times than I care to remember. You said it was one of Colonel Murphy’s laws.”

“Exactly,” Bowden said, “and the corollary is ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,’ especially in combat.” Bowden nodded. “I expect that something will go wrong in this attack—something unexpected will occur, equipment will break, or the enemy will decide not to go along with our plan. And you, Reetan, you are the only thing I have to recover from that when it happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“At some point during the battle, something is going to happen that could alter its outcome. It doesn’t matter what battle or where it takes place, there’s always something that happens with the potential to turn a loss into a stunning victory, or a victory into a humiliating defeat. It’s your job to act when that opportunity presents itself. I’m trusting you because you have the experience to recognize when that thing is occurring and the courage to act decisively when you do.”

Reetan frowned, obviously not believing what he was being told.

“I’m counting on you more than anyone else,” Bowden said. “I’ll be at the front of the attack. Odds are, if—no, when you’re needed—I’ll probably be out of comms, likely dead, and you’re going to have to use your best judgment on where and when to intervene. I’m counting on you to be the glue that holds this whole thing together.

“You will have to act independently, without my advice or consent, and use your best judgment. You ask why we’re not using your skills in the other portion of the plan. That’s because I’m betting everything I have that you will make the right decision at the right time, and you will save us all.”

* * *

“You sure about this?” Fiezel asked as everyone filtered out of the briefing room.

“The plan?” Bowden asked. He shrugged. “It’s as good as we can make it with what we’ve got.”

“That’s not what I meant. Are you sure you want to be on the corvette? You could handle it just as easily from Outpost, and I could take your spot on the ship. We’ve still got some time before we get underway; I can get up to speed.”

Bowden shook his head. “No, I’ve got this.” And no, there isn’t enough time left.

“But are you well enough for it?”

“I am,” Bowden said with more confidence than he felt. “Besides, I need to be close to the battle to make sure the comms work out.” He raised a hand when Fiezel opened his mouth. “I know the Dornaani comms will work just great, but I’ve been in too many battles to expect comms to work perfectly.”

Fiezel chuckled. “In the goo, over Hanoi . . . that’s always where the radios always went out, and you prayed that your wingman wasn’t going to run into you coming off target. The missiles coming up at you were bad enough; running into an ally would have been far worse.”

“Exactly,” Bowden said. “And that’s why I’ll be on the corvette, and you’ll be on the Outpost.”

Fiezel nodded and turned away. “Whatever you say, Admiral.”

“What was that?”

Fiezel laughed. “While you were lazing around in your hospital bed, I had plenty of time to talk to Murphy. He told me how much you liked that call sign.” He smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Bowden sighed at the certainty that everyone already knew. But at least Murphy hadn’t passed along the full title: Admiral Squid.

Bowden frowned. At least, I hope not . . . 


Back | Next
Framed