an iffy point-defense system or else roll wedge,” Woodburn said, reaching over Travis's shoulder to key the simulation over to the Commodore's station. “If he does the latter, we may be able to catch him by surprise.”
For a couple of heartbeats Heissman gazed at the display. Then, his lip twitched in a small smile. “Yes, I see. It's definitely a long shot. But long shots are where you go when you've got no other bets.”
He gave a brisk nod. “Set up the shot.”
* * *
“Analysis complete, Admiral,” Imbar announced as he hovered over Tac Officer Clymes's shoulder. “Similar countermissiles as ours, with about a thirteen-hundred-klick range, and similar autocannon loads.”
Gensonne scowled. So the Manticorans' countermissiles had a shade less range than the equipment aboard Copperhead and Adder.
And Casey was supposedly the most advanced ship of the Manticoran fleet. If Llyn had been right about that, then the weaponry aboard the larger Bogey Two ships burning space toward him would be even more subpar.
Yes, it could have been worse. But it could also have been a whole lot better. He'd tried like the fires of hell to talk Llyn into providing him with more cutting-edge equipment, but the damn little clerk had turned down every request. The Volsungs didn't need anything better, he'd insisted soothingly, and farthermore the Solarian League would rain down on all of them if they ever got wind of it.
Which Gensonne knew was a bald-faced lie. The Axelrod Corporation was way too powerful to worry about offending whatever bureaucrats were in charge of enforcing such regulations. Llyn simply didn't want a bunch of free-lance mercenaries running around with really advanced equipment.
But that would change. When Llyn saw how quickly and efficiently Gensonne delivered Manticore, Axelrod would surely want the Volsungs on board for whatever project was next on their list.
And Llyn could bet his rear that the subject of advanced weaponry would come up again.
“Salvo ready, Sir,” Imbar said.
“Acknowledged,” Gensonne said. The question now was whether they'd wrung out every bit of data Heissman and Casey could provide. If so, it was time to end the charade and finish them off. If not, a little additional restraint might still be called for.
“Missiles,” Clymes called into his musings. “Looks like two from each of the corvettes.”
Gensonne swiveled toward the sensor display. Sure enough, both of the smaller ships were showing the unmistakable signs of booster flares. A waste of time; but then, what else did they have to do? “Six missiles at the cruiser,” he ordered. “Fire when ready.” On the display, the missiles cleared the corvettes' wedges and lit up their own.
Two missiles from each corvette . . .but from Casey, nothing.
He frowned. Could the damage his attack had inflicted on the cruiser's sidewall have bled over into its launchers or control systems? Llyn had said that Casey was Manticoran-designed. Had the builders unintentionally incorporated a fatal flaw into its architecture? “Damage report on Casey,” he ordered.
“Their starboard sidewall is at half power,” Imbar reported, sounding puzzled. “We already went through this—”
“More flares,” Clymes cut in. “One more from each corvette.”
“Still nothing from Casey?”
“No, Sir.”
Which made no sense, unless the cruiser had genuinely lost the ability to launch its missiles. Definitely a tidbit worth knowing, especially if similar flaws had been incorporated into the Manticorans' other ship designs.
And really, it didn't much matter which of the Manticorans were shooting and which ones weren't. What mattered was that they were trying the same saturation attack they'd tried before, and it was pretty obvious where that attack was aimed. Heissman was apparently the observant type, and von Belling's half-completed yaw turn earlier had tipped off the Manticorans as to where Copperhead's weakness lay.
Which, again, was hardly a problem. “Order Copperhead to pitch wedge,” he instructed Imbar. “Adder will prepare countermissiles; all other ships, stand by autocannon.”
He listened as the acknowledgments came in, his eyes on the six wedges cutting through space toward his force at thirty-five hundred gees acceleration. A minute fifteen out, with probably forty seconds before they would either tighten their angle toward Copperhead, or widen it to target both Copperhead and Adder. At that point, Heissman would show whether he'd truly observed Copperhead's weakness or was a one-trick pony who was throwing missiles at his opponent simply because that was all he knew how to do.
Which would be pathetic, but hardly unexpected. Manticore had been at peace a long time. Far longer than was healthy for them. War was what kept men strong and smart. Peace