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"I can't wait that long," Yanakov said, and Courvosier looked at him in surprise. "They've taken out close to ten percent of our processors; if I give them another four days, they'll destroy forty years of investment—not to mention killing several thousand more people—especially if, as you yourself have pointed out they should, they drop this in-and-out nonsense and start working their way straight around the belt. I've got to stop them sooner than that ... assuming I can figure a way to intercept the bastards in strength."
"I see." Courvosier chewed the inside of his lip for a minute, then frowned intently. "You know, there just might be something you can do."
"Such as?"
"You're too tired to think straight, Bernie. If they keep heading back to the same spot every time, you don't have to let them see you coming."
"You're right." Yanakov sat back down abruptly, then began punching keys. "If we know where they're going, we could wait till they pull back from this last attack, then put everything we've got on a course to intercept their retirement vector for the next one!"
"Exactly." Courvosier gri
"Five hundred gees, more or less, for the hyper-capable units," Yanakov said. "Three seventy-five for the LACs." He studied his calculations for a moment, then grimaced and started changing numbers.
"Do the LACs add enough firepower to justify holding your starships back?"
"No. That's what I'm reworking." Yanakov nodded as new numbers began to come together. "Okay, that's better. Now, given their operational pattern to date, I think we can assume a sensor window of—" He tapped a quick calculation. "Call it three and a half hours. Three to be on the safe side."
"Which means you could be up to—?"
"Approximately fifty-three thousand KPS. And even if they don't come back in at all, that would take us to the point where our sensors keep losing them in ... roughly four hours from Grayson orbit," Yanakov said, still working at his terminal. "Given their attack patterns, we can kick our drives back in ... call it three hours into their next run and still intercept even if they pull back out the instant they pick us up!" His hands stilled on the keys and his tired eyes were almost awed. "By the Grace of God the Tester, you're right. We can do it."
"I know," Courvosier replied, but he sounded less enthusiastic. Yanakov looked a question, and he shrugged. "Oh, it's neat, and I like the notion of using their predictability against them, but there's still something I can't quite put my finger on. It just doesn't make sense for them to give us an opening like this."
"Didn't someone say the general who makes the last mistake loses?"
"Wellington, I think. Or maybe it was Rommel." Courvosier frowned. "Tanakov?" He shrugged it away. "The point is, we want them to make the mistake."
"I don't see how it can hurt us," Yanakov argued. "Holding the Fleet in-system accomplishes absolutely nothing. At least this gives us a chance. And, as you say, Captain Harrington will be back in four days. If they have missile colliers out there, we may be able to knock them out and choke off their supplies, even if we miss an actual interception. And even if we only derail their operations for a few days, that'll still be long enough to prevent further damage before she gets back and kicks the bas—"
He broke off, a curious expression on his face, and Courvosier cocked an eyebrow.
"Sorry," Yanakov half-muttered. "I was simply assuming you'd commit her ships to help us."
"Why in the galaxy shouldn't you assume that?" Courvosier demanded.
"But you're not— I mean, we're not—" Yanakov paused and cleared his throat. "We don't have a treaty yet. If you lose ships or take damage on your own responsibility without one, your government may—"
"My government will do what Her Majesty tells it to do," Courvosier said flatly, "and Her Majesty told me to come back with a treaty with Grayson." Yanakov looked at him wordlessly, and he shrugged. "I can't very well do that if I let Masada wipe you out, can I?" He shook his head. "I'm not too worried about the Crown's reaction, or even Parliament's. The Queen's honor is at stake here. And even if it weren't, I wouldn't sleep too well nights if I turned my back on you people, Bernie."
"Thank you," Yanakov said very softly, and Courvosier shrugged again, uncomfortably this time.
"Forget it. It's really just a sneaky maneuver to bring your own conservatives around."
"Of course it is." Yanakov smiled, and Courvosier gri
"Well, I can pretend, can't I?" He rubbed his chin again and fell silent for a moment. "In fact, with your permission, I'm going to take Madrigal out with your interception force."
"What?!" Surprise betrayed Yanakov into the undiplomatic exclamation, but Courvosier only shook his head in mock sorrow.
"I told you you need sleep. Madrigal's sensors are better than anything you—and, ergo, the Masadans—have. If we include her in your intercept force, her gravitics'll pick them up a minimum of two light-minutes before they have the reach to see you. That means you can keep your force under power longer, build a higher base vector, because you'll only have to shut down when they do come back, not when we think they might come back. And just between the two of us, I don't think any Masadan cruiser out there is going to enjoy meeting up with her, Bernie."
"But ... but you're the head of a diplomatic mission! If anything happens to you—"
"Mr. Houseman will be only too happy to take over in that unhappy event." Courvosier grimaced. "Not the happiest of outcomes, I agree, but scarcely disastrous. And I told the FO when I took the job that it was only temporary. As a matter of fact—" he gri
"But, Raoul—!"
"Are you saying you don't want me along?" Courvosier asked in hurt tones.
"Of course I do! But the possible repercussions—"
"—are far outweighed by the probable benefits. If a Queen's ship fights alongside you against your traditional enemy, it can only be a plus for the ratification of any treaty, don't you think?"
"Of course it would," Yanakov said, but the words cracked around the edges, for he knew it wasn't diplomatic considerations which shaped the offer. "Of course," he went on after he got his voice back under control, "you're senior to any of my other officers. Hell, you're senior to me!"
"I'll certainly waive seniority," Courvosier said wryly. "After all, my entire `fleet' consists of a single destroyer, for God's sake."
"No, no. Protocol must be observed," Yanakov said with a tired smile. "And since this is all a sneaky diplomatic ploy, not a spontaneous and generous offer to help people who have done their best to insult your senior subordinate and half your other officers, we might as well play it to the hilt." He held Courvosier's eyes warmly and extended his hand.
"I hereby offer you the position of second in command of the Grayson-Manticoran Combined Fleet, Admiral Courvosier. Will you accept?"