“Sloth Gun at ninety eight percent.”

  “Fire.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Fire.”

  Still nothing.

  Winterson stepped forward and touched Hoyt’s arm the way the father of the bride might approach the groom.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I’m sure my crew are looking into it.”

  “We need that gun.”

  Hoyt nodded, teeth gritted.

  There was an almost imperceptible dimming of the bridge lights and then everything was back to normal.

  Hoyt looked at the Tactical Officer.

  “Are we ready?”

  He checked his screen. “Yes, sir, I believe we are.”

  “Very good. Fire.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  At first, nothing seemed to happen.

  They were not even sure that the Sloth Gun had worked. Unlike most conventional weapons, there was no actual projectile for them to see. Winterson looked around the room in the hope that someone would be able to tell him what exactly was going on.

  Had they hit Odin, or not?

  He had no understanding of how these things worked and was totally reliant on others to explain away the technicalities.

  In the meantime, Hoyt seemed to be getting on with things as though nothing had happened.

  The PWO had developed the terse, monosyllabic delivery which favoured the gravity of these occasions.

  “Molly Maguire, you may begin firing when ready.”

  The first two missiles were despatched almost immediately, followed approximately forty-five seconds later by another pair. It took fifty seconds for the third pair to be launched and almost an entire minute for the final set to be sent on their way.

  Winterson experienced a huge sense of relief once they were all under way.

  “Who was that,” he asked Hoyt. “The teams launching those things? Were they our people?”

  “No, sir, that was our Lieutenant Runacre acting as supervisor but those were all civilian crews.”

  “Are you sure?” he said but went on, aware of how disparaging that might have sounded. “That’s damn fine work in anyone’s book. I’d like to meet them afterwards. They deserve some kind of praise.”

  “Hopefully, there’ll be an opportunity later.”

  If we come through this.

  While they waited, one of the comms officers turned to Winterson.

  “Communication from the Blackbeard, sir.”

  Hoyt held out a hand. “Alright, let’s have it.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir. It’s marked for the admiral’s eyes only.”

  Hoyt let out a little bark and went back to what he was doing.

  The officer cast the message across to Winterson’s screen.

  It was from Frans Jacobs, asking for permission to take up position off the starboard bow. Directly replacing the Charles W. Morgan.

  Winterson sent it over to Hoyt who didn’t at first say anything.

  Eventually, Hoyt came over.

  “What do you think?” Winterson asked.

  “It’s your decision, sir. But we are pretty exposed on that starboard side.”

  “My thoughts exactly. We’re up against it here, it’s this Jacobs character. I just don’t know about him.”

  “You don’t think he’s capable of following orders?”

  “There is an aspect of that, I suppose,” Winterson rubbed his face. There was stubble there, highlighting how long they’d been at this. “How’s he doing for missiles?”

  Hoyt went over and checked his screen.

  “Offensively, he’s quite well off. Eighteen all told, but very little on the defensive front.”

  Winterson winced at that news.

  “We didn’t think it was necessary,” Hoyt said. “Considering his position in the rear.”

  “Yet he still wants his place at the front.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, sir. Our friend Mr Jacobs thinks he can win this whole thing single handed.”

  “Well, let’s give him the opportunity.”

  He walked over to the PWO and waited until he was free. Then he told him to instruct the other ships about the new formation.

  “Do you want me to reply to Captain Jacobs, sir?” the comms officer asked.

  “I think not. He’ll see the general notification like everyone else. No point making a song and dance about it.”

  They were silent for a bit, just thinking as they watched the image of the Odin up on the screen.

  If the Sloth Gun had failed to do its job Molly Maguire’s missiles would detonate harmlessly against the Odin’s shields.

  For a long time the only thing happening was the routine chatter between the ships as Blackbeard prepared to come alongside.

  Time was moving on and Hoyt turned to Winterson and raised his eyebrows. They were some way past the point when the missiles should have struck home.

  Something was wrong.

  Then, suddenly two savage flashes illuminated the Odin’s prow, followed forty-five seconds later by two more.

  In all, seven of the eight missiles had made it through. A fantastic result.

  Winterson clapped his hands together, more in relief than celebration.

  “For a moment there…”

  “It’s the Odin, sir. She must be decelerating.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “That explains why the missiles took so long to reach her. The Odin must be slowing down.”

  “So soon,” Winterson couldn’t keep the delight from his voice. “Are you suggesting she might have lost power?”

  “That’s one explanation.”

  “Then, let’s hope you’re right.”

  *

  Winterson had learned a long time ago that there was no such thing as a normal engagement and had reconciled himself to the idea that things would go wrong, sometimes horribly wrong. But, for him, that wasn’t what was important. What was important was the way in which you dealt with such setbacks. It was that which would, ultimately, define you as a leader.

  The trick was to avoid making snap decisions. Because sometimes, when you were waiting around like this, the tendency was just to do something for the sake of doing it and that was invariably a mistake. And so, in order to guard against such knee jerk decisions, Winterson had developed a series of rituals designed to help him cope with those long stretches of enforced inactivity.

  Checking weapons’ readiness was a good tactic as it relied on keeping everyone actively engaged. That had been ideal when he’d been a captain with a lot to occupy himself but it was a little harder to manage now that he had risen through the ranks. The idea was that, as an admiral, he should be able to stand back from the action in order to better reflect on his long-term strategy. But Winterson was also human, he had a sizable ego and so sometimes couldn’t help but get caught up in the unfolding drama.

  Which was precisely why he was having such difficulty stepping back now. He had no pretext for sending Hoyt a direct message although he had added a few notes to their in-flight battle plan. Not that Hoyt would notice.

  With Odin’s shields down they needed to be pressing their advantage and if Charles W Morgan had still been in the fight that might have been the case. The Morgan could have targeted the Odin and that would have been an end to it. But now here they were confronted with a vulnerable opponent and they weren’t exploiting their advantage. It would be another ten minutes before Jacobs was in position and the Blackbeard could start firing. And now, just to add to their woes, a weapons engineer – identifiable as such by the green flash on his shoulder badge - had appeared on the bridge and gone straight over to Hoyt.

  In Winterson’s experience, such occurrences rarely heralded good news.

  Hoyt, along with his executive officer, Kerrigan, were trying their best to deal with it on their own. Finally, Hoyt turned to where Winterson was sitting and indicated for him to come over.

  Kerrigan didn’t look pleased. He was one of the few officers who hadn’t gone out of his way to accommodate the admiral. In fact, there were times when his attitude towards him bordered on disdain. In Kerrigan’s eyes, Hoyt was clearly master of his own vessel while Winterson remained as some kind of antiquated curiosity.

  Accordingly, Winterson now took his time, acting as if nothing untoward had happened.

  “How can I be of help, gentlemen?” he asked, giving Kerrigan his best icy smile.

  “It’s the Sloth Gun, again,” Hoyt said, getting straight to the point. “For some reason, it’s not charging properly.”

  “I see.”

  Although Winterson was no engineer, he’d fought hard to get the authorisation to deploy the thing in battle. He knew it wasn’t perfect. Apart from having to shut down their own weapons whenever they used it, there was also the hellishly long re-charging period. Anything up to thirty minutes, which was thirty minutes too long for any engagement Winterson had been involved in. But the Da’al weren’t like any other opponents they’d so far encountered and so it was important in his mind that they made the necessary adjustments – difficult though that might be.

  “Permission to speak, sir,” the weapons engineer, whose name tag identified him as Peters, hadn’t relaxed since Winterson had appeared and Winterson liked him all the more for it.

  “Go ahead, son.”

  “Sir, the problem isn’t with the gun itself. It’s with the capacitor.”

  “Ah, the capacitor,” this was one thing Winterson did know about. Because the weapon had had to be built from scratch they’d been forced to cannibalise a lot of the components from the hardware they already had on board. Finding a capacitor of exactly the right size had been a real challenge, though in the end they’d found two. “Isn’t it working properly?”

  “The first one blew as soon as we tried to use it,” Hoyt explained grimly.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” Peters said. “It’s not the gun’s fault. Any weapon of this size is going to need to be properly calibrated: high end to low end. But because we haven’t had a chance to run proper sea trials we been pretty much operating in the dark.”

  “As have we all, lieutenant,” Winterson said. “As have we all. But this isn’t helping us find a solution, is it?”

  “No, sir. The problem is that the Sloth Gun puts a massive strain on all the ship’s electrical systems. So, in order to prevent them from being blown every time it’s used, we have the built-in capacitor. It’s like a battery. It helps store enough power to get the gun up and running safely.”

  “I think we all know how a capacitor works.”

  “Apologies, sir,” Peters was struggling under the scrutiny he was receiving but pressed ahead regardless. “The first time we tried to fire the Sloth Gun…”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “That’s right. The capacitor was overloaded. It couldn’t supply enough energy quickly enough.”

  “But then you did manage to get it to work.”

  “By switching to the back-up capacitor, sir.”

  “I see. So, what’s the problem?”

  Kerrigan raised a hand. “They’re concerned that the same thing will happen again.”

  “And we don’t have another spare? Is there anything else we can do?”

  “This is what we’ve been discussing,” Hoyt said. “Lieutenant?”

  Peters seemed happier now. “We could lower the power outage. That way we’d be putting less demand on the system.”

  “But then won’t that compromise the effectiveness of the EMP?” Winterson said.

  “Yes, it will, sir, but you have to understand, we have no idea how much power is enough. We could be generating ten times the power we actually need. It might work just as well at half that. We just don’t know.”

  “And it might not work at all,” Winterson snapped. “No. I’m not happy with that. We know that this system works and, for the time being, that’s what we’ll stick with.”

  Winterson caught Hoyt and Kerrigan exchanging looks but neither of them said anything. Winterson reflected that he might have been too quick to state his case but was reluctant to back down now. They were fighting for their lives.

  Winterson waited until the lieutenant had departed before shooting Kerrigan a sour look.

  That’s how you get things done, he wanted to say.

  Then the PWO’s voice, low, flat and determined.

  “Missile launch detected.”

  *

  “Same tactic they used against the Morgan,” Hoyt observed.

  He and Winterson were looking at the Virtual Battlefield. It made for grim reading.

  Both Tyr and Thor had launched missiles, twenty-four in all, and they were all vectored in on The Naked Spur.

  But it wasn’t that which concerned Winterson the most.

  He indicated the Odin which was still in the centre of the Da’al’s still very fluid formation. As she had started to decelerate, she had allowed Tyr and Thor to flank her – Tyr to the left and Thor to the right. This would only provide her with a modicum of cover but, if the other two ships were prepared to sacrifice their defensive missiles in order to protect her it could make a significant difference when Blackbeard’s volley of eight missiles came within range.

  “What do you think?” he asked, pointing to Odin.

  “You mean, do I think they’re trying to protect her? Then, yes, obviously I do.”

  Protect her in the same way that we failed to protect the Charles W. Morgan.

  He didn’t need to say it to make Winterson feel it.

  “And what does that tell us?”

  “That the Odin might well be their flag ship?”

  “If they even have flag ships,” Winterson mused. “The question is: does this change our approach in any way?”

  His eyes went to the countdown timer. Seventeen minutes before the Sloth Gun was ready to fire.

  “Personally, yes. I think it does.”

  Winterson was taken aback. So far, Hoyt had followed his lead every step of the way.

  He said, “I thought we’d already had this discussion.”

  “And we have. But I’ve been thinking: Lieutenant Peters is an extremely able officer, sir.”

  “I’m sure he is. So, what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

  “I trust him, sir, it’s as simple as that. If Peters says there’s a problem with the capacitor then we need to listen to him.”

  “Yes, and we did listen to him. Do I need to remind you, captain, that one of the main reasons we came out here was primarily to test the Sloth gun?”

  “And we have tested it, sir,” Hoyt insisted. “And shown it to be successful. The fact that the Odin is currently incapacitated testifies to that.”

  “But the plan was to use it against all three ships.”

  “Agreed, but now that we have the Odin in such a weakened state, we’d be foolish not to exploit our advantage. Sir, we have the opportunity to destroy their flagship. That’s not something we should lightly dismiss.”

  “So long as this isn’t some misguided attempt to get some ‘pay-back’ for the Morgan, captain.”

  Hoyt looked at him as if the suggestion had never occurred to him.

  “No, sir, this is all about seizing a unique opportunity. Remember, no one’s beaten them in actual combat so far.”

  Winterson was about to correct him, citing Faulkner’s victory, but then he recalled that that wasn’t technically true.

  “You’re right. Faulkner might have immobilised their ship but it was the Marines who claimed the final victory.”

  “Under the command of one Major Mackie, I believe.”

  Winterson rubbed at his chin, liking the sound of this more and more. If the Odin really was the Da’al flagship then this would be a very significant victory indeed.

  “We’d have to throw everything we’ve got at it,” he went on. “And not just us, you’d have the Blackbeard and the Molly Maguire as well.”

  “That’s a lot of firepower, right there.”

  “But there’d be risks – not least to ourselves. You saw what they did to the Morgan. We have to assume they’d try and do the same to us.”

  “That’s true, sir, but if we’ve learnt anything from that last engagement it’s that the fleet has to focus all their defensive capabilities on defending the one ship being targeted and, in this case, that just happens to be us.”

  Winterson sucked at his teeth, sensitive to the accusation that such a change in approach might well be seen as hypocritical. But then, what else was he supposed to do? If you couldn’t adapt to the demands of the battlefield you were doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over.

  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. By powering down the Sloth gun in order to switch to their more conventional weapons they’d be throwing away the opportunity of going after Tyr. Not what he’d had planned, at all. There was no way he could go with this without it looking like what it was: a massive U-turn.

  It was the sort of move which potentially could end careers.

  Unless, of course, they were successful.

  He gave Hoyt a hard stare. “It’s a big decision, Ed. Are we sure about this?”

  “Consider the alternative, sir. We wait for the Sloth to fully re-charge. Only, when we try and fire it the exact same thing happens that happened last time.”

  “We blow the capacitor.”

  “Exactly. Only this time we wouldn’t have a back-up.”

  And if that happened, the Sloth gun would be perceived to have failed in combat, despite the fact that it had never been fully tested. The whole project would be assigned to the scrap heap in spite of anything the engineers might have to say. Because, by that point, it would have become a political decision rather than a practical one. A face-saving exercise. No one wanted to be associated with failure.

  And if the Sloth was seen as such, what would happen to the man who had staked his reputation on championing it?

  Winterson smiled at Hoyt like they were old friends, his mind made up.

  “The most powerful person in any situation is invariably the one who’s most flexible,” he grabbed Hoyt’s hand and used it to pull past him, striding into the centre of the room.

  “Alright,” he said, quickly drawing everyone’s attention. “Let’s change things up a bit. Power down the Sloth gun immediately.”