Part 15

"When it's time, when it's time oh say when it's time.."

The 'Fire and the 'Chance had drifted slowly back to their points in the formation. The way ahead for the moment was clear, no ships nor mines nor missiles in the way. Nearby lurked the presence and threat. It kept it's distance. Close enough to freely strike. Not yet doing so. So far though that it's preparations and actions were unseen and unknown. It was just there.

The ex-admiral had transferred back to his ship. To oversee the state of the 'fire. To oversee the state of the convoy. Captain Freddie wasn't implicating himself in that role. Van Gehan had the management of the freighter crews under control, he didn't need to speak to them and that was about right. it wasn't appropriate in his mind that was the age old role of the convoy leader not the escort ship. It had worked like most of Fleets traditions for centuries now. If it works, Freddie like to let it work.

It was a time to wait.

True enough crews and machines slaved away at repair and rearmament. There was more than enough work to do there, and the continual reports needed looking at, just so he knew what he was commanding but for the moment everyone was waiting. The question on Freddies mind, his crews mind, the admiral' mind and those throughout the convoy was would they be ready for another attack and could they survive it.

That would of course depend on the attack and when it came.

Nobody knew that.

What Freddie knew was that the freighters still hadn't finished charging up their compression engines and without those they could not run. Without running they could not help but fight if it came.

Waiting.

Waiting

Waiting

Like an endless musical rift they were stuck in the mantra of waiting. Work a little, think a little, worry a little and wait.

Wait a little more and worry.