— 1 —
Piracy had plagued the Belt for decades. So long as the criminals preyed off each other, and the helpless, the major powers tended to leave them alone. But every now and then some of the less bright of these brigands overstepped their bounds.
The daughter of an influential United States of Jupiter family was held hostage and brutalized. The navy was called in to clean out the Juclip and Belt sectors. They assigned a "wild card" captain named Hope Hubris to the mission. It was a no-lose situation for the navy. If he screwed up, he was out and no loss as far as the navy was concerned. If he succeeded, he could have his headline, and the pirate problem would be solved.
Hubris's own antipirate crusade has been under way for several years. Because of Hope Hubris's well-planned strategies and the efforts of the rat pack of "losers" he has gathered and those willing to gamble big on an unparalleled career move, they have kicked ass so far, largely cleaning up the pirate problem. One major enemy remains, one with a distinguished fleet nearly as large as, or larger than the USJ (United States of Jupiter) fleet, one with allies, and with reasonably good commanders: the Marianas.
The senior command staff of the task force is assembled in the wardroom aboard the Sawfish—all except their commanding officer, Captain Hope Hubris.
"I presume we have the commodore safely tucked in bed," comments the officer in charge, opening the meeting. The speaker is Lieutenant Commander Emerald Sheller, a tough career officer in her late twenties, a black woman who has gained rank and respect despite—or perhaps because of—the color and sex discrimination that still exist in the modern space fleet. The commodore in question is her commanding officer, Captain Hope Hubris, who is entitled to that archaic title because he is not captain of the Sawfish, but has the rank of captain and is in command of the task force.
The officer to Emerald's left suppresses a rather wry grin. This woman's skin seems fair next to Emerald's fine, coffee-dark features, but she, too, has fought for her bars. Spirit Hubris is the commodore's sister, and has worked her way up past the special problems of a Hispanic emigrant, made more difficult given the current political picture of the solar system.
"I'm sure he's doing just fine with his pirate bride," Spirit leers.
Her fellow officers respectfully ignore her bitterness. Captain Hubris has just married the beautiful, but not entirely willing, daughter of a pirate chieftain in order to forge vital political ties. The navy could ignore and even deny the specifics of the alliance, and probably get a free shot at the captain for going native, but the powers-that-be in the government would use the peace agreement for their own gains. At the moment, Captain Hubris could care less. He is . . . busy elsewhere.
"Keeping Hope out of this was a stroke of genius," Emerald comments. Her husband and fellow officer, Lieutenant Commander Mondy, nods in acknowledgment.
It has been decided to use the ancient Mongol strategy for the upcoming battle. The enemy, a pirate nation based on a group of planetoids collectively called the Marianas after the Terran island chain, will, it is hoped, fall into the errors that his model, Bela of Hungary, had committed over a millennium ago. Captain Hubris would act as the devil's advocate, playing Bela and trying to beat his own staff at their game. Hopefully the staff will later be able to out-psych the real enemy, based on the captain's insights.
Nervousness makes Mondy, the intelligence staff officer, sound more forceful than usual. "It is essential to the part the captain plays that he does not get wind of this flanking action."
"Don't worry. His little pirate maiden will keep him busy. She has a very clear picture of what her future could hold as a commissioned officer and Jupe Citizen. Believe me, the native life isn't all it's cracked up to be. She isn't going to blow her chance to be an officer and a lady. She'll keep him holed up in there until morning," Emerald insists, with a knowing smirk.
The officers grin and someone comments about inadvertent double entendre.
"Okay, okay, down to business." Emerald's voice cracks like a whip. Beyond the usual military crispness, which Sheller has in abundance, there is a shattering tension. The fleet has been on the run for five days.
The plan had been this: Like the Mongols in 1241, the Jupe fleet approached the entrenched position of the Marianas fleet, "fording a river," although in actuality it was passing through a clear place in a band of space debris. They then halted to the far side of another and far larger band of this orbiting sandstorm, which they had given the code name of "Danube."
As expected, the Marianas command had held their entrenched position, allowing the USJ fleet to weaken from lack of supplies, or simply to outwait them until they left. Three days ago the USJ task force retreated a short way in a strategic move. Whether it was from impatience, audacity, or the rumor that a considerable fleet of allies was on its way to support them, the Marianas sent out a small strike force across the "Danube." It had consisted of only one cruiser and four escorts.
Hubris ordered his task force not to attack this smaller and weaker force, but to continue to flee. This drew out the rest of the Marianas fleet. For the past five days the USJ Navy had appeared to be in full and disordered retreat, staying just ahead of the larger pirate fleet. Finally they reached the first of these debris "rivers," which was code named "Sajo" after a historical river that figured in the original Hungarian battle.
Emerald had commanded the fleet to retreat through the clear passage through which they had made their assault. Then she ordered the fleet to decelerate and hold the opening, thus creating something of an impasse, with the larger Marianas force being unable to use their greater numbers in the narrow gap. Currently, both forces sat, the USJ fleet on one side of the Sajo and the Marianas fleet on the other.
Now Emerald was about to enter into the big gamble that would win or lose this battle.
"Okay," she continues. "Listen up." She produces a lap computer with a small display. "I don't want anything online. No leaks. Captain," she addresses the commander who is captain of the Sawfish, "I'll give you my coordinates in case this doesn't work. Use them if you survive, which won't be likely, and if you have any desire to bail me out. But I'm only giving you sealed hard copy. Don't enter them into the computer except on your personal password."
"Agreed."
"This is the drill." She pulls out the stylus and touches the computer screen in several places. Then she taps in a code on the keyboard, and a map of the region comes up. She changes the view and scale a couple of times and then, satisfied, she sets the display down for all to see.
"I've had scouts out since we approached Sajo the first time. This is what we've found. About six hours at 2.8 G, let's call it upstream, there is"—she fiddles with the stylus— "here, see . . ."
Mondy sees it right off, but there is a lack of intelligence in some of his colleagues' eyes.
Emerald rotates the view. Then it becomes clear. The route she has outlined ends on the flank of the Marianas' formation. With the dust and ice, they will be unseen until the last possible moment.
"It's hard to find. That's why it isn't on the maps. As far as we can tell it's a good clear passage, but tricky. There are a couple of nasty chunks of space rock. Ice mostly, I'd guess, and between the erratic orbits, and the cue-ball effect . . . well, you can see. But it seems to have stayed clear, and I've been establishing a data base and getting some satisfactory analyses. My guess is that it is a semipermanent feature, but one that was never mapped.
"If we can pass through there unseen, we'd be on their flank. If the route stays open, and if we survive combat with any stray pirates, and if they aren't warned, and if they don't attack while I'm out of support range, and if we have enough force left to make a difference when we get there. But then if those remaining here attack at the same time . . ." she finishes hopefully.
"Do we get to name it?" someone wisecracks.
"Let's call it the Emerald's Cut." Phist, the logistics officer and part-time mechanic, suggests. "Where the pirates will be cut by something harder than a diamond, our Emerald."
Emerald has never worn any jewelry and Phist knows it. The stark lines of her uniform would never allow it and when she is out of uniform—well, on those occasions jewelry would just get in the way. Smiling, she acknowledges the teasing comment as support from the rest of their closely knit team, support she will need to pull this off. Encouraged, she continues.
"This is the plan. We divide our firepower, the fast ships go with me. The heavies, Sawfish and the Hempstone Crater, stay here. That gives you firepower and most of the drones. I'll take the destroyers, except the Purple Mountain, which is still being upgraded and will hold us back. The Inverness is my command ship. And I'll take those three souped-up tugs." She turned, and gave a rare smile to Phist. "You're a genius. How did you get the materials to revamp those wrecks to get three gee out of them? Never mind. Any questions?" She can feel her own confidence and enthusiasm growing.
"Yeah, Phist. We're supposed to shoot pirates," the Sawfish captain adds, grinning.
"Anyhow, I'll take most of the destroyer escorts and torpedo boats. I won't need much supply. The Marianas are likely to never miss the smaller ships so long as the heavies stay in sight and make plenty of noise. This will be a hit and run . . . well, actually, a run and hit. I'll take nothing that will slow us down; every minute we are away there is a greater chance the pirates will hit us while divided. I can use that one escort which was converted from a merchantman as an ammo ship. It'll hurt the crew's dignity, but the storage racks are still in place.
"I'll board at 2300 Terra Standard and disembark at 2400. What time do you expect to funnel back across the Sajo, Captain?" Emerald asks.
"We will start to reconfigure at 0700, but we're planning to go slow. With any luck, if the enemy picks up the motion it will look like we're leaving. We figure to get under way at 1000, but we need time to ferry the cruiser through as well. Let's say we should be in place and battle ready at 1200 straight up."
"Well, that's neat and tidy, but it's going to be a horse race. I'll attempt to bring my wing around the flank through Emerald's Cut and be in position to hit the enemy flank at 1200 hours tomorrow, Any questions? Ladies and gentlemen, let's hit the deck. Let's see it we can confuse Commodore Hubris, then go for the real thing, Dismissed."
It is now almost 2400 hours. You will now make the decisions for Lieutenant Commander Emerald Shelter in command of the flanking maneuver. You start with a total of 24 ships, which includes the Inverness. (See Table 1) All you have to do is be in position no later than twelve hours from launch, with at least the Inverness and five escort vessels of any class for a total of six ships. Along the way, you'll be given instructions to mark off time elapsed on your time chart. You have 12 hours to reach the battlefield in time. Any later and Hope's force will be crushed by the pirates.
Go to section 2.