“Poll the task force.”
“Polling them, sir.” It was the first chance to discover whether any of the ships in the task force had been lost en route. “Picket Wayfarer and tender Northstar do not respond. All others reporting on station.”
“Confirming that,” called the task force coordinator.
“Receiving notification that Northstar missed the jump due to navcomp failure, arrival now expected two-eight-forty. Wayfarer suffered hyperdrive failure at mission time oh-nine-sixteen and dropped out early. She’s now under tow to Alland Yard for repairs.”
“Scratch her from the list, Arky, and move Vigilant forward into that slot,” A’baht said calmly.
“Aye, General.”
“Tactical, update,” Captain Morano called.
“Still clear, sir.”
“Maintain active scanning.” Morano turned to A’baht. “Nothing out there. Then why did they kick us up to yellow-two?”
“Let me have my attachments here, Comm,” said A’baht, swinging a flat-panel display up and across in front of him.
The polarizers on the secure display guaranteed that Morano could not read it from where he sat, so he tried to read A’baht’s face instead, with little more success.
“Interesting,” A’baht said finally, returning the display to its recess. “The yellow-two is due to the fact that the Yevetha apparently knew we were coming.”
“Then where are they?”
“Apparently they chose not to meet us,” said A’baht. “Or to make any other aggressive moves, for that matter. All the inhabited worlds within ten light-years of here are reporting quiet skies.”
“Well—that’s good, eh? That’s what we want, isn’t it?”
“That’s what the President wants,” said A’baht. “I wish the Yevetha were here. I want a good look at their fleet. Chances are they’re getting a good look at ours.
Narth, what can we do to make it harder for them?”
The tactical aide rocked back in his chair. “Shuffle assets, rotate callsigns, hop and skip along the operational perimeter. I think we can keep them confused for a while, anyway. But it’s hard to hide for long in the middle of nowhere.”
“With all respect, General, the way I understood it, hiding was the last thing we were supposed to do out here,” said Morano. “And that kind of maneuvering sends the chances of an operational accident way up.
Remember the Endor and the Shooting Star?” The two Alliance frigates had collided after a mistimed jump, with the loss of all hands. “Let them get a good look at us, so they know what they’re in for if they come out. If they have any sense at all, they’ll see they don’t want to tangle with us.”
“It’s much too early to know if the way they think qualifies for our definition of ‘serisible,’ Captain,” said A’baht. “The viceroy of the Duskhah League had some very strong things to say while we were en route—some about us, some about Princess Leia, and all of it very public. You can hear for yourself—I passed that dispatch over to your queue.”
A’baht looked out at the brilliant sprawl of stars.
“They knew we were coming, and they don’t want us here. Until we know just what they’re capable of, I’m not going to be happy about sitting here. We’re out in the open, and they’re somewhere in the tall grass,” he said.
“You know how strategists are—no matter what their species.”
Captain Morano sighed and glanced across at his own tactical team.
“It’s true—they’re easily tempted.
They can’t resist trying to plan the knockout first strike,” he said, and the tactical chief confirmed the truth of it with a guilty smile.
“So how do we play this?”
With a practiced ease, A’baht unstrapped his restraints and stood. “We sit here and let ‘em look, because that’s what we’ve been asked to do.
We move the prowlers as far forward as we dare and keep them moving along the perimeter. And we all work on being very, very watchful.”
To himself A’baht added, And then we hope the diplomats and politicians either work this out, or deal us a stronger hand and soon. “I’ll be in my ready room, working up the entry report,” he said. “Alert me the moment there’s any change in the tactical situation.”
In the privacy of his ready room, General Etahn A’baht learned that there were not five, but six attachments to the Fleet Office’s flash update.
The sixth was an electronic hitchhiker. It had no identifying code and a length of zero. But when A’baht keyed in the code he had reluctantly and tediously memorized at Admiral Drayson’s insistence, the attachment unfolded into a lengthy dispatch from Alpha Blue.