Becca Nightshade left the details to others. She understood a captain’s role, and it was not to micromanage the battle. The kitsen generals sent instructions—this time to begin withdrawing—which she passed on and delegated appropriately, but she did not monitor the radio chatter. She left that to her communications officers, who brought her the most important matters. She didn’t demand updates to each and every event in the fight; she’d put good people in charge of overseeing the situation.
None of that was Becca’s job. Her job was twofold. To be seen. And to see. Not visually, in her case.
She kept her hand in the center of her haptic hologram, watching the motions of ships and starfighters, her attention on the larger dance. The pattern of the battlefield. Looking for a weakness in the enemy, like a hole in a shield wall, or a swordsman favoring one leg.
When she found it, the discovery surprised her.
Could it really be so clear, so obvious? She sat up, hurriedly moving her hand around in the haptic battle map. The enemy was pushing inward with all of their forces. Putting pressure on the Defiant with everything they had. It was a valid strategy; the enemy had overwhelming numbers, so they could afford to be reckless. Their goal would be to force Becca’s troops to be on the defensive, to abandon their mission objectives and begin fighting purely for survival.
In response, the generals and admirals of the kitsen strategists had the Defiant pulling back. Not a retreat, but a careful giving up of ground. Their goal was being thwarted: they couldn’t get the inhibitor slugs to accept help.
That wouldn’t have worked anyway, Becca thought, going over the numbers she’d been given. We’d need to clear away dozens of slugs to make space for Detritus to hop forward. In the middle of a battle? That would be difficult even if we were willing to destroy them.
“Beowulf,” she said to one of her current aides, “read me that report Jorgen sent earlier. Three messages ago.”
“Um,” the young man said from her right, “three messages…Two other pilots, including FM, have confirmed what Kimmalyn experienced: the slugs will let them hyperjump away to save themselves, but won’t go with them. Something prevents the slugs from seeking to be rescued.”
“But they are willing to bend the rules for us…” Becca said.
Capturing the Defiant was key to the enemy’s strategy. So they had pushed forward with their own capital ships—even the carriers—using every gun at their disposal to harry Becca’s forces. To try to overwhelm the Defiant’s shields. To bring it down. And yet they didn’t see…
Becca pulled over her keyboard. She wasn’t as practiced as she should have been, perhaps. One did not learn typing skills living the life she had. But she felt at the numbers and letters, and carefully pecked out a terse sequence of instructions. Just a few lines, detailing how she wanted to command her forces. She sent them to the kitsen generals.
The implications of what she’d suggested made her heart flutter and her fingers tremble. Surely she’d missed something. Better minds than hers would look over what she suggested and find its faults.
Still, if she was right…
She could win this war.
