P.D. 952
Gathering Storm
The Dominion First Attack Fleet in Sybil Head Space
Four months after leaving their home sector, the First Attack Force of the Dominion of Unified Citizenry, eighty five ships strong, entered the Sybil Head Sector like a dark cloud.
No one noticed their arrival. Aboard the battleship Vengeance, Admiral Mello had taken great pains that this be so. They stayed off the direct route freighters used to use to travel from Sybil Head to the Dominion. It was a long route, using a series of short-hop wormholes made obsolete by the discovery of the wormhole from Sybil Head to Victoria, and another from Victoria to the Dominion. But Admiral Mello was a cautious man, for all his reputation as a bold tactician, and so he had taken the Task Force on a dog leg away from the trade route, then ran parallel to it well out of sensor range of any errant freighter dogging its slow way between sectors.
Running five hours in front of the Dominion Task Force, fifteen destroyers probed in a wide arc with sensitive passive sensors, looking for any ship that might notice them, wonder who they were and pass along a message to Sybil Head. Their standing orders were blunt: No one must see the First Attack Force. Destroy any ship that stumbled across their path. So far they had been lucky.
“Latest report from Captain Morales, Admiral,” his aide said, handing him the notebook. Mello waived a hand. “Tell me, Jodi.”
Commander Jodi Pattin nodded. “Captain Morales has only picked up one ship, at extreme range, moving away from our line of travel. The drive signature makes it an ore freighter, probably making a local run between mining colonies. He’s not seeing any other activity, but he’s concerned that there might be a small mining colony somewhere in front of us.”
Mello drummed his fingers on his armrest, considering. The trouble with Sybil Head was that it was cluttered with little mining colonies, often that weren’t on any navigation chart. They could blunder into one without every knowing it was there until they were on top of it, and any one of them could send out a dispatch drone warning of the Dominion attack force. In another four days they would be through Sybil Head, heading for Cape Breton. There they would meet with the light force of frigates and several colliers promised by the CB government, resupply, perform one last maintenance check, and then enter the wormhole that would take them into Victorian space. And then…
“Okay, Jodi, let’s move another dogleg, a full Sensor Unit further out, then turn back on course. Inform the fleet. Use whisker laser, not radio.”
“Commander Pattin punched some numbers into her notebook. “This will chew up another fifteen hours, Sir.”
“Can’t be helped, Jodi. This entire campaign depends on surprise. Without it, we will get our collective asses kicked. We’ve built in extra time for just this type of contingency. And, Jodi-” She looked at him expectantly.
“No mistakes,” he said firmly. “I want confirmation from each ship that they understand we are turning. Everyone stays in formation. Any captain who strays off course will be removed instantly. No mistakes. We haven’t come this far just so some sloppy jackass can ruin everything.”
“Of course, Admiral.” She left to do his bidding.
Mello turned his attention back to his screens. He was commanding the largest fleet in the history of the Dominion, about to attack the Dominion’s biggest threat, and he would flay alive any man who stood between him and his victory.