Eberdorf’s finger moved again. That meant the Santie carriers would be about . . . here. Useful information.
“Report to HQ,” she said. “Notice to the captains. As soon as this air raid is over, we will depart and make speed on this heading.”
Angelika Borowitz’s eyebrows rose. “Sir. That will put us on an intercept course with the enemy fleet.”
Eberdorf smiled, and even the Chosen present blanched slightly at the writhing of the scar tissue. “Exactly. If we meet the enemy on the way to the rendezvous, we can scarcely be faulted for engaging them. In my considered opinion, our squadron alone possesses the readiness necessary for a major night attack on the enemy fleet. The potential damage outweighs the importance of another twelve destroyers in a day action.”
When they would be pounded into scrap by the cruiser screens of the Santie Northern Fleet, probably. But the Pillars flotilla hadn’t had their crews robbed of Chosen personnel and experienced Protégés for operations on the mainland the way the Home Fleet had been. Night action had a big potential payoff—the enemy’s scouting advantages would be neutralized, and all action would have to be within effective torpedo range—but it required exquisite skill and long practice.
She laughed again and ran a hand over the place where her hair had been, once. “I seem to make a habit of leading forlorn hopes. Although I doubt anyone will swim ashore with me from this one.”
* * *
“Sir.” Maurice Hosten saluted and came to attention before his grandfather. “Sir, they beat us off. I doubt we sank so much as a fishing boat.”
There was a faint edge of bitterness in the young pilot’s voice, even now, even on the bridge of the Great Republic.
“The flak was like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he went on. “And their land-based air were waiting for us, three times our numbers or better. They were working over the minelayers pretty badly, too.”
The admiral nodded. “It had to be tried,” he said quietly, more to himself than to his grandson. Aloud: “Very well, Wing Commander. You may go.”
“Well, that was a fuckup,” Admiral Cunningham said mildly.
“Had to be tried,” Maurice Farr repeated. “That’s a dozen tin cans and a good modern cruiser, well crewed and too mobile by half.”
He looked out the windows into the darkness. “Too mobile by half and probably—”
“Sir! Destroyer Hyacinth reports enemy ships in unknown numbers.”
Farr looked down at the map. “Coming straight at us,” he said. “Well, you can’t fault their aggressiveness,” he said. “Transports, carriers, and carrier escorts to maintain course. The remainder of the fleet will come about as follows.”
The orders rattled out. Cunningham raised his brows. “Putting everything about to face twelve destroyers and a cruiser?” he said.
“We can’t afford too many losses,” Farr answered. “Particularly not of capital ships.”
Cunningham nodded. “You’re the boss. I’d better see to my own.”
Farr nodded, looking out through the bridge windows. The first shots were already being fired: starshells, to give as much light as possible. Bloody murthering great fleet, he thought. Be lucky if we don’t sink a few of our own ships by friendly fire.
He considered sending out a “caution on target” notice, then shook his head silently. More likely to lose ships that way, as gunners hesitated to the last minute and let the Land destroyers too close. Searchlights flickered over the water. Wish there was some way of seeing in the dark, he thought. Some sort of detection device. But there wasn’t . . .
“Cruiser Iway under attack,” the signals yeoman said tonelessly, translating the code as it came through the earphones in dots and dashes.
More than starshells lit the sky to the northwest. Gun flashes, eight-inchers. The thudding of the muzzle blasts traveled more slowly, but not much. It wasn’t far . . .
“Iway reports she is under gun attack by enemy heavy cruiser,” the yeoman said. “Desmines and Nawlin are moving to support.”
“Negative,” Farr rapped. “Cruiser Squadron A to maintain stations.”
That was probably what the Chosen commander was trying to do, punch a hole through the cruiser screen and send the destroyers in through it. Easy enough even if they maintained station; the destroyers wouldn’t be visible long enough to get most of them.