by Ken Wolfson
"Reactor 1, Ignition laser is firing!" Ravin said. The deck rumbled. Powergrid started at 70% and dropped rapidly.
"Get ready to emergency eject coolant blocks if containment fails," Adrian said. Amelie nodded and ran her fingers over the DC console.
"Successful ignition, the reaction has begun in reactor 1," Ravin said. Power hit 40% and stabilized. Then it climbed back up. "The reaction is now stabilized and self-sufficient. I have now created a sun, I am God, let there be light."
"If you're God, make me a cup of coffee," Amelie said.
"Engineering out," Ravin said, and slammed down the receiver. With reactor 1 feeding power, the other three would be ignited with minimal drama.
That night, Adrian invited the station chiefs to his dining room. They were greeted with plates of crispy deep-fried chicken and taters atop the fake-wood roundtable.
"Is this Benji's?" Zoey said, eyes wide and hungry.
"There was a stand a hundred meters from our airlock. I decided to get us all together for one final meal," Adrian said. The officers picked their seats, but remained standing, all eyes on him.
"Good chance to put my ass in a chair for once," Grissom said. He leaned on the table until Cage elbowed him under the ribs.
"Best final meal a soldier could ask for," Jamie said.
“And tastes better than reactor barbecue,” Ravin said.
"We're deploying?" Zoey said. Adrian detected a quaver in her voice. That was alright; war was terrifying. She just needed to keep doing her duty despite the fear.
"Clearance came through from high command last night. We're being assigned to 6th Gehenna, Frontline carrier group. We're being put on picket duty in the third orbital," Adrian said. That was the frontlines, currently under assault by Wendago.
"They're throwing us into it," Zoey said.
"They are, but I've made sure we'll be properly fortified.”
The 30-rack of Betelgeuse Brew hit the table with a thud. An audible gasp rang around the room. "Straight from the hoppers of the red giant. Take a can," he said, and snatched up the first. It was ice cold, having made the trip into orbit packed in Volantene snow.
Once everyone had a cold pint in hand and their eyes were back on him, he spoke.
"If I didn't think I had the best crew in Volantis, I would've deflected the assignment. In the past three months, each one of you has been pushed to the limit of what's expected, and each one of you has delivered. You've faced traitors within, and haven't broken to the corrosion of paranoia. You've stared down the largest fleets put to void since the great rebellion. Vindication and every one of her crew owes their life to you. I'm damn proud to be your COS." His beer opened with a metallic crinkle. "To duty, and victory."
"Duty and victory," they recited.
"So, what're y'all doing after we win this?" Cage said as he piled chicken sandwiches on his plate.
"Sleeping," Jamie said.
"I'm going to have a snowball fight out on the plains, and everyone is invited," Zoey said. "From our ship only, of course. There will be beer."
"Where you getting the money?" Cage said between bites.
Zoey dropped her drumstick and held up her comp with a grunt of indignation. "I do have credits and my share of the prize money, and it's not like I've got any bills. What are you doing?"
"Writing home to Farrigan," Cage said. "I bought a commercial flash drone on retail and swept it clean myself. Soon as we're done here I'm sending it home." No one pressed him further as he inhaled sandwiches.
"I'm visiting a cathouse when this is done. Gotta fortify myself for the next stretch of campaigning," Grissom said.
“I thought you’d get a haircut first, don’t want poor ladies fainting on sight,” Cage said. Grissom elbowed him back.
"Might I recommend one of the Golden Lion establishments? They're financed by House Mollari, one of my retainer houses," Amelie said. The congregation burst into laughter.
"Is this your personal recommendation, Colonel?" Grissom said. More laughter. Adrian poked her under the table.
"A professional one. Fine boys, finer girls, and regular health inspections." She toe-tapped a rhythm on Adrian’s foot.
"Noted," Grissom said.
"I promise not to tell your wife," Zoey said. Grissom paused mid-chew and stared at her. Her expression twisted from humor to horror at her misfire.
"Don't worry, I divorced her five years ago." Relief and a few laughs came out.
Adrian finished his first sandwich. Nothing better than mass-produced deep fat fried breaded chicken, washed down with cold beer. Everyone in the room was smiling; even Amelie had half a smile as Jamie whispered a joke in her ear. That was the first time they’d smiled together since before Vykhor, when he'd gathered them for some local vegetarian food. Sare had been telling jokes about Wendago.
It felt good.
"So, are you two getting married?" Cage said, jarring him from reverie.
Adrian's ears flushed; he looked over to Amelie, who was turning red.
"I know I'm violating some kind of unofficial don't ask don't tell here, but you guys are the cutest couple on Volantis.” Cage drew a combat knife and planted it in the table. “And fuck the prefects coming straight from Lady V. A man ain't being kept down cause he's lowbrow."
“No weapons at the dinner table,” Amelie said. Cage plucked the knife free, leaving a dent that would be slowly auto-repaired by the smart-alloy.
Well, what did secrecy matter anymore? The urge to come clean was too much to bear, as was Amelie's nervous smile encouraging him on to reckless action.
"No use marrying when there's a war the next day. We'll think about it when we've won and sent Emoche back to his god," Adrian said. His officers burst into applause.
"Hear hear!" Jamie declared. She cracked a fresh beer. "To the victory marriage!" Adrian felt total relief, now that he no longer had to hide his greatest secret from his own family.
"To victory marriage," they declared, and clinked cans.
"Yes, we're going to have a wedding in the snow, if we can win by next winter," Amelie said, and rested her head on his shoulder. Her red curls tickled his neck.
"We're all invited, right? You can't not invite us," Zoey said.
"We're all invited, except the Major," Adrian said. Cage scowled. "That's an order, Major. I don't want to see any of the 2 meters of you at the reception. You'll blow something up."
"He’ll sneak in anyways, disguised as two women sitting on each other’s shoulders,” Grissom said.
“And still be prettier than any girl who’d love you,” Cage said. Grissom finished his beer and grabbed another. Cage did the same, tossing the can over his shoulder into the recycler.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Major, you would blow something up,” Zoey said.
“I’m watching you, brevet.”
"I don't think she's a brevet anymore," Adrian said. "It's been 12 weeks. Apologies, Zoey. I don’t have a big ceremony." He reached across the table, and removed her rank pin, then pinned it back right side up. "Congratulations, Captain. You've passed the test." Everyone burst into applause once more.
Zoey fanned her reddening face. Jamie passed her her drink and even helped her tip it back. "Thank you," she finally said."Ah, shit, I spilled half that down my collar."
"There must be a speech," Grissom said.
"No, no speech. I've got nothing," she stuttered.
"A comms chief without a speech is a travesty," Ravin said. Adrian took a few seconds to get the joke.
"You're harassing the poor Captain," Amelie said, with a wink at Zoey. Zoey blushed some more, but then smiled, and soaked in all the attention.
"Do you have someone to write home to?" Cage said.
"I've got...seven siblings, I suppose, though I haven't heard from any since I shipped out for Tollyon," she said. She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a podlet tattooed into her wrist. "I'm the oldest. Our family farmed hydroponics at Rigel. All the stereotypes about farmin
g hicks and all."
"Shit that’s boring," Cage said.
"Peaceful, my mother said. She wasn't too pleased when I departed. They had plans of growing their business with the increased hands all the kids provided. Wanted to start a farming conglomerate and put out enough produce to afford hiring their own independent freighter to ship it. Mom had a degree in economics; Dad was just real strong and in tune with the plants. Me leaving upset their plans."
"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear from you," Adrian said.
"Yeah, they would be," she said.
They finished eating down to the last chicken-fried crumbs.
"Get some sleep, and be on the bridge at 0700 tomorrow. We're dropping bridge at 0900," Adrian said.
Then it was Amelie and himself alone, in his living room. With the last two beers.
"You ready?" she said.
"I'm ready." He gave her a kiss, then went to take a shower.
#
Chapter Forty: Assault
Junes 10
71st Day of the War
"All hands condition one, combat stations. This is not a drill."
The double-klaxon blared shipwide. On the bridge, Adrian closed his eyes and listened to 14,000 pairs of new boots thunder on the deck. In minutes the bridge filled.
"Vindication, Violet anchorage. The mooring clamps are withdrawn. You are free to depart." Green lights flared across every diagnostic.
"Copy harbor control," Adrian said. "Helm, 15-second burst on the prow jets, then let the tugs take over."
"Yes, sir," Grissom said. He kicked Vindication from her mooring at a hundred meters per second. Four tugs latched onto her nose with boarding cables. TACNET came online. There was a comfortingly mass of blue in Volantis’ immediate space, and some red at the fringes.
"Vindication, Violet Anchorage. May Mother Winter provide fury. Harbor control out."
"Thank you," Adrian said. Amelie blew a soft kiss at the anchorage on visual.
At 1,000 kilometers the tugs dropped tether and broke hard to the flanks. "We're past the safety limit. I'm powering up the main drives now," Grissom said. He took the throttle and eased it up.
"Give her 12g acceleration, nice and easy," Adrian said. He felt a flicker under his feet, then the distinct rumble of the plasma drives spinning up. "It's good to be back," he whispered to his remaining child. The tempo increased a notch as Grissom pushed her into high burn.
"Launch the CSG," Adrian said. The interceptors maintained a wide perimeter around the carrier. Somewhere in the distance of TACNET, on the far side of the planet, warning indicators flashed.
"The next torpedo salvo incoming, thirty minutes on the dot," Lieutenant Pask said.
"Count?" Adrian said.
"One, six zero zero, no nuclear warheads." TACNET filled with red signatures. After a billion kilometers of steady acceleration, their velocity approached .05 light speed.
"Any targeting us?" Adrian said.
"Negative. They're aiming at Alto anchorage on the north pole, looks like," Pask said.
“CONOR’s banner station, our flight path comes within 10,000 klicks,” Grissom noted.
"Continue burn. CONOR will handle them," Adrian said. At 50,000 kilometers the picket destroyers intercepted, autocannons blazing and decoys flying. The torps bypassed them and dove on the planet, bleeding numbers as they went. At 40,000 interceptor missiles were launched from Alto's sentry batteries and any warship in the area. At 5,000 the anchorage-mounted PDF batteries vomited tungstanium. Adrian estimated a hundred torps made it through and detonated. None struck the anchorage itself. Barriers flared on the nearest ships, and several fresh wrecks fell towards the planet. CONOR tugs burned to catch them.
"Why would they hit the shipping instead of the anchorage itself?" Cage said.
"The anchorage is too hardened to be neutralized by ranged bombardment, so they're picking off what they can. We're not getting steady reinforcement; they are," Amelie said.
"Commander, urgent comms from Sixth Gehenna command!" Zoey said.
Vindication redeploy to near Volantis orbit, defense grid 14, Cara Anchorage. The existing perimeter has been abandoned. Await rendezvous with fleet main body there. Prepare for CQB.
Sixth Gehenna Command.
Adrian's heart dropped. There was only one reason to abandon the current perimeter and collapse back to Volantis herself. One reason to expose the garden world to the punishing fire of a dreadnought brawl, where even the tugs and city barrier fields couldn’t fully protect the planet’s surface.
"The situation has changed," he said to his bridge. "The blues have reached critical mass. They're pushing, fleet can only stop them with the aid of Volantis' defense grid."
A few ensigns gasped in shock, and Zoey bit her nails. Shit, it'd been a while since he'd done one of these sieges.
"What's going to happen is the next torp volley is going to be far larger, maybe ten thousand as they empty all the magazines in preparation. Then the Wendago are going to hit everything outside sentry gun range. Then the main blue fleet will land will land."
Amelie gaped. "You're sure? That would be catastrophic."
"Yes,” Adrian said. He clasped his hands behind his back so she couldn't see them shaking. He’d hoped he’d never had to fight a siege like this again. "Helm, change course for defense grid 14. Take up geosynchronous orbit at ten-kay kilometers," he said. That would keep them well within the safety limit of the big guns, but give them a cushion to shield the planet below.
"Yes, sir," Grissom said, and flipped the supercarrier to point straight at the ice ball. Internal gravity briefly elevated as she swung, then dropped back to normal.
Half an hour passed.
"Vindication, Cara anchorage. Not to knock the PDF, but we feel much safer with you overhead." Adrian shifted hull camera feeds until he found Cara. She was an industrial anchorage, a 20-kilometer chunk of tungstanium, back heavy with cooling towers and sides sporting row upon illuminated row of windows. The quadruple towers of the sentry guns had been bolted on, completely out of place.
"Cara, Vindication. We'll live up to that. Just keep your trigger fingers ready and make sure we're not in your sights," Zoey replied. Her voice was strong, though it still shook with every word.
"No worry. Is Adrian Huxton aboard?"
Zoey waved Adrian over. He rolled his eyes as he took the mic. "Cara, Vindication actual. Yes, I am," he answered. He ignored Amelie's snickering and returned to his station.
"Thank you, sir. Just checking. Cara out."
"Next torpedo wave is incoming. Count much firepower," Cage said.
"Incoming count!" Amelie barked. She slapped Cage. "Incoming count, Major."
"Count twenty-thousand Cage said. TACNET painted red.
"Destination?" Amelie said.
"Bavo anchorage, magnetic north pole," Cage said. Together Alito and Bravo anchored the north pole, sporting ten sentry guns apiece and hangars for a full half of the noble-born ships and PDF fighters. Already destroyers and interceptors from every anchorage in the northern hemisphere were rising to engage.
"Look for the dragoons, sensors to high-beam and launch a full spread of scan probes," Adrian said. They had probes again, and full magazines, and they could push the acceleration and barriers without overheating. Vindication thrummed all about him. Felt good.
"Probes up. I count sixty dragoons racing inbound plus a couple wings of fighter-bomber support. They're going to intersect the torpedo flight path," Cage said. "What're they doing?"
"Calculate when they'll intercept. And warn the fleet of the hostile presence," Adrian said. Zoey did the warning while Cage calculated. The torpedoes crept towards the planet while the Wendago ran on an almost perpendicular path. A vector that ended in the destroyer screen. Adrian saw it. "Warn the destroyer screen the Wendago are going to hit them. Tell them to spread formation. All channels!" Adrian said. Zoey practically yelled into her mic. Plenty other scouts piped up the fleet.
A few s
hips scattered; most ignored and opened up on the incoming torps or the Wendago.
The Wendago split the formation. At least half the red signatures winked out. Distress calls rang out and fell silent. Zoey put her head in her hands.
And the torps continued with barely a dent. They flew on for another fifteen seconds of steady 100gs. At 5000 kilometers the warhead computers made final calculations and reoriented accordingly on their terminal vector. Then they red-lined to 200gs. The shipping around Bavo anchorage took some of the blow as unwitting ablative armor. They weren't enough; the majority collapsed the anchorage's barriers in seconds, then shattered armor. A multi-billion-ton chunk of tungstanium disappeared inside the cloud of searing plasma. Adrian had seen such action before. His only reaction was a slight tightening of his grip on the lip of his desk.
Damage reports filtered in immediately. There was still something left of Bavo anchorage. Every tug in the hemisphere raced to stabilize its orbit. Sporadic radio signals emerged from the hulk, but the wreckage would be impossible to cut through in time. Death by suffocation instead of immolation.
"Where's our fleet at?" Adrian said.
Amelie snapped to action. "Sixth fleet is falling back towards the planet, pursued at a million klicks by a—numerically superior blue fleet. First is also withdrawing from Volantis-I. They've got an even larger fleet on their tail."
"Notify command we're in position," Adrian said. Zoey was folded up into the cushion of her seat, head in her hands, shoulders heaving. "Captain." Adrian took her shoulder. She didn't respond. He began to regret his promotion.
Amelie delivered a stern smack across her cheek.
Zoey unfolded just a bit to look up at him. Her eyes were rimmed red. "Sorry, sir, but I just felt half a million people die," she whispered, then folded back up again. Adrian had expected this. Everyone had a moment when they hit the wall of their mental limitations.
"Zoey, welcome to a system siege. A lot of people are going to die. You signed up to fight in these conditions and I entrusted you to lead in those conditions last night. I need to know: are you fit for dutu, or do I need to find someone less qualified and less competent to take your space? Because millions are going to die like that, and if we can't stop the blues it'll be a billion. What's it going to be, Captain?"