The Numbers Belong to Different Days
The Kihtomer had been away from Velora for nine days when the message arrived.
Their peacekeeping assignment there had ended without ceremony. No treaty had been signed. No government had fallen. Two patrol corridors had reopened, an observation team had taken over, and the Kihtomer had moved on.
The new orders sent them three systems farther out.
By the time Captain Mara Venn entered the briefing room, Commander Elias Ro had filled the main display.
Two worlds.
Kestral and Oran.
A disputed corridor between them.
The fighting had begun seventeen days earlier.
“Kestral crossed here,” Ro said.
A line appeared between the systems.
“Three Orani patrol stations destroyed. Two communications platforms captured. Kestral now controls the corridor and both transit gates.”
“Casualties?”
“Moderate so far.”
“Fleet strength?”
The map disappeared.
Numbers replaced it.
Kestral: 138 combat vessels.
Oran: 71.
“Operational?”
“One hundred twenty-nine and sixty-two.”
Venn studied the display.
“So this is almost over.”
Ro changed it.
A graph appeared.
“Maybe.”
Venn looked at the rising lines.
“Production?”
“Production. Repair capacity. Crew training. Propulsion cores.”
He added them one by one.
Kestral’s lines rose gently.
Oran’s climbed.
“How long?”
“Thirteen to sixteen months.”
“To what?”
“Parity.”
Venn watched the curves.
“Do they know?”
“Both sides know their own numbers.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“No.”
The Kestrali admiral received them aboard the Resolute.
Admiral Corven was cordial enough to make it clear that he considered the meeting unnecessary.
“You’ve seen the military situation.”
“We have,” Venn said.
“Then you understand why this should end quickly.”
“Possibly.”
Corven looked at her more carefully.
Ro placed a small projector on the table.
“Kestral has one hundred twenty-nine operational combat vessels.”
“One hundred thirty-one as of this morning.”
Ro corrected the figure.
“One hundred thirty-one.”
“Oran has sixty-two.”
“Sixty.”
“Sixty.”
The admiral smiled.
“Your intelligence appears to be improving.”
“Those numbers belong to today.”
The smile held for another second.
Ro changed the display.
A curve appeared.
“Orani ship production.”
Another.
“Repair throughput.”
Another.
“Qualified crew replacement.”
Another.
“Propulsion manufacturing.”
Corven leaned closer.
“We have estimates.”
“Not these.”
“Where did you get them?”
“From material both governments supplied to the mediation commission.”
The admiral looked at Venn.
“You are sharing Orani military intelligence with us?”
“No.”
She nodded toward the display.
“We are showing both governments the same analysis.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
Ro advanced the projection.
“If present rates continue, Kestral retains a substantial numerical advantage for approximately fourteen months.”
“And then?”
“Parity.”
“And after?”
Ro left the graph where it was.
Corven read the curve.
“They outproduce us.”
“At present rates.”
“How much of this will you show them?”
“All of it.”
“Including your assessment of our fleet?”
“The same assessment.”
“Why?”
“We were invited here to mediate.”
“That isn’t mediation.”
Venn waited.
Corven looked again at the rising line.
“I haven’t decided what it is.”
The Orani minister reacted before Ro had finished.
“You’ve confirmed it.”
“Confirmed what?”
“That Kestral cannot sustain this.”
“We confirmed no such thing.”
The minister pointed at the display.
“You showed us parity in fourteen months.”
“At present rates.”
“And after that?”
“At present rates.”
“Then time favors us.”
Venn glanced toward Ro.
He removed the production curve.
A different set of projections appeared.
Loss rates.
Industrial targets.
Mobilization scenarios.
The minister’s expression changed.
“You showed this to Kestral?”
“We showed Kestral the same information.”
“You told them we can catch them.”
“Yes.”
“And you told them we know they’ve seen it.”
Venn said nothing.
The minister looked at the projection again.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?”
Venn followed his gaze.
The industrial curve was still rising.
The minister reached over and shut it off.
“They may attack the yards.”
“They may,” Ro said.
“Widen the war.”
“Yes.”
“Before we catch them.”
Venn said nothing.
The minister stood with one hand still resting on the projector.
“What do you recommend?”
Ro closed the remaining projections.
“That decision belongs to your government.”
“Then why come here?”
Venn answered.
“Because Kestral has seen these numbers.”
The minister waited.
“And now you have too.”
The joint session lasted six hours.
For the first two, they argued about the numbers.
For the next two, they argued about assumptions.
Production rates.
Repair losses.
Training bottlenecks.
Engine availability.
Civilian conversion.
Whether Oran could sustain its present mobilization.
Whether Kestral could expand its own.
Nobody discussed peace.
During the fifth hour, Admiral Corven asked whether Oran would accept inspections of its two largest military shipyards.
The Orani delegation refused.
Twenty minutes later, Oran asked whether Kestral would withdraw one carrier group from the corridor.
Kestral refused.
The requests continued.
Inspection.
Withdrawal.
Production ceilings.
Transit rights.
Advance notification of fleet movements.
Prisoner exchange.
Nothing was agreed.
Near the end of the sixth hour, someone asked for a recess.
No one objected.
The recess lasted until morning.
The Kihtomer was still in orbit when new orders arrived.
A cease-fire elsewhere had failed.
They were needed within forty-eight hours.
Venn read the message on the bridge.
“Of course.”
Ro stood beside the navigation station.
“The delegations requested another day.”
“They can have it.”
“Without us?”
“They know where the conference room is.”
The Kihtomer broke orbit three hours later.
The two delegations remained aboard the neutral station.
Neither had signed anything.
No ships had withdrawn.
No production had stopped.
As the system receded behind them, Ro came to the captain’s chair.
“Were we allowed to do that?”
Venn looked up.
“Do what?”
Ro considered the question.
“Nothing.”
Venn watched him for a moment.
Then the navigation officer announced the transit window.
“Take us out.”
Behind them, Kestral still had the larger fleet.
Oran still had the steeper curve.
Each knew the other could see both.
WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.
Travel in Life 