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Chapter Seven


Spin One


“We need to talk.”

The fork traveling to Major Kevin Bowden’s mouth stopped in mid-flight, paused, and returned to his tray. Bowden’s eyes came up to find Colonel Rodger Murphy looking down on him.

“Hi, sir,” Bowden said. “Is this a ‘drop what you’re doing; we need to talk right now’ kind of thing, or more of the ‘when you’re done eating come on by my office’ sort?”

“There is nothing more important than this topic.”

Bowden glanced at his tray with a half smile. “Good thing I wasn’t attached to any of this, then.” He bussed his tray and followed Murphy back to his office.

“Please see that we’re not disturbed,” Murphy said to Makarov as he passed through the anteroom outside the office.

Makarov lifted an eyebrow at Bowden, who could only return a shrug. Bowden entered the office and closed the door. He turned, and Murphy waved him to a seat. Bowden sat on the front, leaning forward. “What’s up, sir?”

“It’s game time,” Murphy said without preamble. “The Harvesters are en route.”

“Shit.” Bowden winced. “We’re not ready.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he shook his head, adapting to the news. “Okay,” he said with the next breath, “how much time do we have?”

It was Murphy’s turn to shake his head. “Not long. Not as long as we expected, certainly. Looks like they’ll be here in about a hundred and ten days, give or take a few.”

“That’s it?” Bowden exclaimed. “We were supposed to have—”

“Over two hundred days,” Murphy muttered, cutting him off. “I know. It’s worse than our worst-case scenario. But now, it doesn’t matter what we were supposed to have. All that matters is that we make the most of the time we do have. And that, according to all of my sources, is about just over a hundred days before we have to be in position.”

“Any idea of what changed or—more importantly—why? That might go a long way to determining what the best way to fight them is.”

“Actually, I am starting to get a little insight into it, based on some comms intercepts we’ve received. Part of it, of course, is that we’re a victim of our own success. Our initial advances on the planet—and particularly your success in blowing up the transmitter—kept them from sending preliminary reports back to Kulsis, like the advance team of ‘coursers’ normally would have done. Still, although the Kulsians may not know what’s happening here, they’re definitely aware something’s going on that’s out of the ordinary.

“We know the surveyor missions to the southern hemisphere are larger and more frequent than normal, and that they’ve been poking around trying to find out what’s been going on up north. So far, though, the word they’re getting isn’t coherent enough for them to believe that there are actually ‘off-worlders’ with ‘helicopters’ killing their allies and deposing a lot of friendly satraps.”

Bowden tilted his head. “So what do they believe?”

“They really aren’t sure, but their best guess—and their biggest fear—is that there is some sort of small pirate force that is preying opportunistically on unaccompanied shipping.”

Bowden frowned. “If they think that there is a pirate force here . . . ”

“They’re going to respond by sending a larger fleet with a higher proportion of security vessels,” Murphy agreed with a nod. “The good news is that—even though they’re coming heavier than normal—it doesn’t appear they’re coming loaded for bear. I’m betting that’s because they can’t envision a scenario in which they will have an honest-to-God fleet battle on their hands.”

Bowden pursed his lips. “But we’re talking about a lot of ships, still? All coming hard?”

“That’s what the comm traffic indicates, yes.” Bowden smiled. “Why? What is the smile for?”

“‘Fly off,’” Bowden said with a twinkle in his eye.

“What does that mean?”

“My first cruise, I got to be part of the fly-off when the carrier returned from overseas. I was the junior guy in the formation, which meant that, out of the ten-plane formation, I was the guy all the way out at the end.

“We launched late due to some issues with one of the catapults, so we had to buster to get down to Oceana in time for our scheduled fly-in. We really poured on the power, kind of like the Kulsians are. Rather than make a fuel-efficient transit, they’re burning a lot of extra gas.”

“Okay, you’re right, the fact that they’re up on the power curve means that they’ll burn more gas. What does the large formation have to do with it?”

“So, as the junior guy for fly-in, I was at the end of the formation. Ever play crack the whip as a kid?”

“No,” Murphy said. “I must have missed that.”

“The short story is that any small motion made at the center of the formation is amplified as it goes down the line, with individual ships jockeying to stay where they’re supposed to be. By the time you get to the outside of the group, the last ship is having to make huge power adjustments to stay where they’re supposed to be. It’s easy to fly formation with two ships, or even four, but the more ships there are, the harder it is on everyone, and the more fuel you burn just to maintain your position.

“So, if they were already going to be lower than normal on fuel when they got here, due to the faster transit . . . ”

Murphy smiled. “A lot of them are going to be really low on fuel when they get here.”

Bowden nodded. “The lead ship will probably be okay, but the outriders—their smaller warships, in all likelihood—are going to be running on fumes when they get here.”

“And we can use this to our advantage.”

“You bet your ass—” Bowden cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir, you bet we can.”

“Good. Put together a battle plan based on this info. We’re going to need to brief the Hound-Dogs—”

“I’m sorry,” Bowden said, interrupting. “Hound-Dogs?”

Murphy chuckled. “There was a submariner from Tennessee who was trying to make a point, but one of the Dogs kept interrupting him. He made some comment about ‘All y’all Hound-Dogs,’ and it just kind of stuck. The fact that they both hate it—like any good call sign—has made it stick like vac-suit repair tape.”

Bowden gave him a half smile. “You know, I kind of like that.”

“Well, they don’t, so watch who you say it around. Especially when you brief them on your plan.”

Bowden winced. “And when am I doing that?”

“In a few days, if it can be arranged, or maybe next week. We need to get their buy-in so we can maximize what little time we have.”

“No worries; it’ll be a piece of cake,” Bowden lied cheerfully. Given how his stomach was suddenly feeling, it was a blessing he hadn’t finished his meal.


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