by P. R. Adams
Someone moved to her left: Scalise. The woman’s odor was sharp among the perfumes and colognes of the others, and it should have been a giveaway. “Focusing on one thing at a time seems to help.” Her voice was mercifully soft.
Benson nodded, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the constantly updating data stream. “Sensory overload.”
And it was. Even the newness of her uniform scraping at her skin seemed an insistent reminder that things had changed dramatically.
“Until you gain control, yes.”
“How can you have control without taking all the data in?”
“You have a crew. Rely on them.”
“Thank you. I’ll learn.”
But the learning should have come with weeks of time on training missions with the crew and ship, undergoing exercises and simulations. Jumping straight into a potential combat situation with no opportunity for even a hint of training? It was reckless and desperate.
Did that say something about the situation facing the Republic?
It had to. And she could almost understand it. After years of cutbacks and drawdowns and reduced training, there really was a dearth of quality officers in the fleet. And her mother was part of the effort to hamstring the military.
Would she hold such a position if she knew what was going on?
The hatch opened, drawing Benson’s attention away just enough to allow her to see who was coming onto the bridge. It was a big man, probably in his mid-forties, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. Otherwise, he was unremarkable—pink-skinned, brown-haired, and lightly freckled. But the set of his jaw and pale eyes said he was anything but unremarkable.
Captain Owen Gadreau. The man who’d been avoiding her since the task force had launched.
But he couldn’t avoid her anymore.
Benson stepped away from the command station. “I appreciate the opportunity, Commander Scalise.”
The stocky woman’s eyes followed Benson’s stare. “Careful.” It was whispered.
“Noted.”
Gadreau stepped aside as Benson approached. “Ma’am.”
She did her best to put on a pleasant smile, even though she could feel the challenge coming off of him already. “Actually, Captain, if you have a minute, I’d appreciate it if you could accompany me.”
His thin eyebrows curled. “Of course, Captain.”
They exited the bridge, then he fell in just behind her as she headed aft.
“Mind if I ask where we’re going, ma’am?” He had the same stiff, uncomfortable posture.
“There are a couple Marines I want to introduce you to.”
He slowed. “Sergeant Halliwell and Corporal Grier.”
“Staff Sergeant Halliwell. But yes.”
The Marine officer stopped and didn’t budge when she cocked her head. “By my reckoning, ma’am, he’s still a sergeant. He requested separation at that rank.”
“And was denied. Then was promoted. None of this is unheard of, Captain.”
“Unheard of?” He sucked his lips in. “That might be true. It’s also not typical.”
“Are you of the opinion he’s unqualified, Captain Gadreau?”
“Unqualified would be a harsh evaluation.”
She crossed her arms. “Then what is your evaluation?”
“Of Sergeant Halliwell?”
“Staff Sergeant, yes. And Corporal Grier. Don’t dismiss her outright, please.”
“No dismissing at all, ma’am. They’re not part of my detachment.”
Benson closed her eyes. Gadreau was going to be every bit the problem that Scalise was. More. “They’ll be consultants for me.”
“Consultants for what, ma’am?”
“Marine operations against the Azoren.”
“Can’t say as I’d considered that a particularly good option, ma’am. You looking to repeat the tactics you used against the Azoren Marines on the Pandora?”
“No, although they would have been effective had conditions been less unfavorable.”
“Favor comes to the prepared, Commander.”
She brushed hair from her brow. “You’ve obviously read the AAR—”
“I’ve read the after-action reports, watched the videos, studied the—”
“Then you’re aware of the challenges we faced.”
He stared over her shoulder, not meeting her gaze. “Favor comes to the prepared, ma’am. That holds true no matter what.”
The callous disregard for reality was nearly as frustrating as the hopelessness she’d felt when the Azoren ship’s umbilical had connected. Dogma, stubbornness…how had humanity survived?
Her communicator buzzed; she pulled it out. It was Scalise. “Go ahead.”
“Commander Benson, you’re needed on the bridge.”
Relief washed over Benson. She wasn’t ready to deal with someone like Gadreau. Not yet. Not with so much else to learn. “Excuse me, Captain.”
He didn’t budge. “Is that all, ma’am?”
“Yes, that’s more than enough, thank you.”
She was halfway to the bridge hatch before she finally heard his boots stomping away.
Good. Maybe I pissed him off. Maybe it’ll sink in that he’s going to have to change to get along with me.
But she knew well enough that he wasn’t going to change.
When the hatch opened, Scalise was waiting, arms crossed behind her back. She turned and nodded toward the giant display. “We’ve detected sensor buoys.”
“Active or dummies?” Benson followed Scalise to the command station.
“Estimates are that one in five are active. If so, we’ve found ten.”
“Within what sort of range?”
Scalise cleared her throat. “Increase magnification to show buoy positioning.”
The display shifted, now showing a very realistic representation of space. Bands of bright blue were overlaid, indicating distance, then red and green globes flashed.
Benson squinted. “Red indicates live buoys?”
“Green the dummies.”
“This is based on active signals?”
“Not at this distance. They’ll be watching for heat signatures, radio waves, and the like this far out. The active scans kick in once one of the positives is triggered.”
“Will our diffusion shields be enough?”
“It depends on how old the systems are. If they’re newer and higher end, they’ll probably trigger off even the diffused heat. There’s only so much we can do.”
“Altering course?”
“This sensor network is going to be the same no matter which way we go.”
It was a valuable stretch of space. Coming in from a different angle would have cost precious time, and there was no guarantee it would have been any better.
Benson squinted again. “Have you relayed for everyone to switch to tight-beam comms?”
“Just before I contacted you.”
“Would’ve been nice to avoid all this using Fold Space.”
“The risk of passing through a disruptor is too high.”
It was another instance of stating the obvious, an annoying trait; Benson let it go.
Entering the DMZ with just the Pandora had been easy enough. It was smaller, and they’d come out of Fold Space already accelerating toward the Kedraalian side of the zone. The Clarion was much, much larger, and along with Benson’s old ship, there were six other ships to worry about. The Marie Belle and Pulsar were frigates, about sixty percent the size of the Clarion. The three gunships were roughly comparable in size to the Pandora. But the Istanbul—the ship that had met the task force just before it entered the DMZ—was another light destroyer, the Clarion’s equal in size but not upgrades. Shy of keeping it directly in the Clarion’s shadow, it was going to be a challenge hiding the ship from sensors.
Benson knuckled her forehead. “I’m having second thoughts about the Istanbul. The guns it brings don’t make up for the problems it presents.”
“You’re thinking of send
ing it back?” Scalise’s voice rose an octave.
“Maybe Captain Gadreau could accompany it to ensure it makes it back safely. Preparedness to provide favor or whatever.”
“He can be very charming on that first date.”
“I’d take him home to mother, definitely. They deserve each other.”
Scalise rapped a knuckle against the command console. “If there are sensors…”
“Mines. I realize that. Have we detected movement?”
“They’re designed not to be seen. No rockets, small profile—”
“And an absorbent exterior. Yes. But they ride on magnetic paths created by the sensor buoys. That means there are only so many places we could be hit.”
Scalise stopped rapping her knuckle. “We could predict where they’d send them after us.”
“The buoys would have to fire their own rockets to hold position. That’d be our first signal. Once we see that—”
“Watch for the electromagnetic path.”
That at least gave them a chance to detect incoming mines, assuming the inevitable detection.
Benson was almost afraid to ask but had to. “The people aboard the Pandora, they know how to operate the stealth system?”
“Colonel McLeod and Lieutenant Stiles worked with Agent Patel to train them.”
“In your opinion, would it be worth using that system now?”
Scalise puffed her cheeks out. “We could be tipping our hands.”
“Assuming the buoys have a Fold Space transmitter built in. That seems like a big space and energy consumer.”
“They only need one within a reasonable distance—a few hundred million kilometers—and they can get the message transmitted ahead of us.”
A short hop for a laser burst to travel. It was too great a risk. If detection was inevitable, holding onto the surprise of the Pandora’s system was an advantage they would need.
There didn’t seem to be any alternatives, no matter how many ways Benson twisted the problem around in her head. “All right. Bring the Istanbul into our shadow. All eyes on the sensor buoys for movement or maneuvering rockets. Begin scanning for those electromagnetic paths and keep us out of them.”
Minutes crept along, and she realized her legs were locked. She twisted, bent, and pivoted while keeping her eyes glued to the display. Scalise and the others didn’t seem the least bit affected by the stress.
You don’t stare at the sun to see the light.
That had been one of the lessons she’d learned at the academy. Sometimes, it was better to not focus on something if she wanted to actually see what was important.
So Benson tried to figure out how she was going to integrate Grier and Halliwell into the Clarion without causing a blowup with Gadreau.
But the blowup had already happened. He’d done everything he could to avoid running into her until they were deep into the mission. He’d already had run-ins with Major Fero back at the station and was trying to marginalize his commander by going through Scalise and by establishing backchannel communications with the colonel and Agent Patel.
Sending the Marine captain packing seemed like the best idea.
Ensign Chao twisted around. “Heat flares, Commander.”
Benson bit her tongue. It was Scalise’s ship to run.
The shorter woman leaned forward. “Put it on the display, Ensign.”
One, two…four of the sensor buoys flared yellow. Then six more. Then ten. Half of them were buoys they were now coming into range of; the others were farther into the DMZ. Above, below, off port and starboard, the buoy network surrounded them. Even if the buoys were dummies, they could be connected to the live ones and controlled. They could be used to create a web of paths for the mines to ride on.
Scalise seemed to sense the problem as well. “They must have a lot of mines.”
“And they know where we are. We have to assume if that Fold Space transmitter is out there, they’ve sent an alert off to another relay station somewhere, and that means every Azoren asset within range is going to know something is in the DMZ.”
“Fall back?”
“Agent Patel wouldn’t have it. We need to accelerate. There’s nothing to be gained by creeping along now.”
“And the mines?”
Chao called out, “Electromagnetic signals! Everywhere!”
Benson tensed. “They’re on their way. Pass along the safest course.”
Scalise gave the helm instructions, keeping her voice calm and strong. There was no need to panic yet. Patel and McLeod had been warned from the start that anything more than a single ship like the Pandora was going to be detected without using its systems. That seemed to be an acceptable price. Or maybe it was something that happened all the time and no one outside very small circles knew about it.
Mother wouldn’t support something like this, would she? And she wouldn’t push so hard to reduce the effectiveness of the military if she knew we were risking war. She couldn’t.
Benson’s gut felt like one huge knot. It was painful to realize there was simply no knowing what her mother was capable of. Her disdain for the military and her belief that all solutions could include peace as an end goal made her seem inflexible and irrational many times. And if she seemed irrational, did that indicate the potential for her to do things that put the Republic at risk?
The weapons officer twisted around again. “Commander Scalise, those sensor buoys?”
Scalise studied the display. “They’re moving.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Moving? That meant the paths were shifting—
The stocky commander straightened. “Lieutenant Ferrara, adjust to deal with this shifting.”
“Aye.”
“Lieutenant Bales, pass along the new route to the rest of the task force.”
The lanky black man was hunched over his console, mumbling.
Scalise raised her voice. “Lieutenant Bales?”
He turned. “Commander, something’s wrong with the gunships. Their laser reception seems to be broken.”
Benson took a step, then stopped herself. It was still Scalise’s call.
She leaned forward to examine her display. “Send me what you’ve got, Lieutenant.”
It was the wrong call. They needed to come off tight beam comms. They were already detected, so it didn’t get them anything. Figuring out what was wrong could come later.
The lieutenant commander stroked her sideburns. “The connection went dead two minutes ago, Lieutenant.”
Bales pivoted around. “Yes, ma’am. I was trying to troubleshoot—”
Chao spun around. “Detonation, Commander! GS-081!”
The rear gunship! How much damage could a ship that size take? A decent-sized mine hitting the Pandora amidships—
Benson backed up to Scalise’s station. “Open comms up.”
The stocky woman made a soft, grunting sound. “You ordered tight—”
“Things have changed. Open comms up. Warn them all to adjust course now.”
“Another detonation, Commander! GS-081 again!” Chao pushed video into a window within the main window of the display. Fire jetted out from a small ship, then almost immediately died.
“And another! The Marie Belle!” Chao changed the angle of the video.
The larger ship seemed fine. But the gunship…
Furrows creased Scalise’s brow. She shook her head. “Those gunships shouldn’t—”
She’s breaking. She’s not ready for this. Benson stepped forward. “Lieutenant Bales, take comms back to open channels. Inform—”
Scalise slapped her console. “Belay that order, Lieutenant!”
Fire bloomed in Benson’s gut. She didn’t want to do this. “Commander Scalise—”
“I’m the Officer of the Deck!”
“Not anymore.” Benson swallowed. “Lieutenant Bales.”
The young man turned his back to the two commanders. “Yes, ma’am.” His voice sounded on edge as he relayed information to th
e other ships.
Scalise stepped from her station stiffly. “Relieved of my command already.”
Benson sighed. “You’re no such thing.”
“You just said—”
“I just saved the lives of the rest of those gunship crews.” Benson turned her back on the bridge console and craned her neck so that her mouth was close to Scalise’s face. “Stubbornness can’t cost people their lives, Patty.”
“It was your order—”
“Orders change. We have to adapt to the battlefield. If you can’t accept that, you aren’t fit for command.”
Ensign Chao called out, “More electromagnetic paths!”
Almost immediately Ferrara announced a course adjustment.
Benson turned to Bales, but he was already passing the course corrections along. She relaxed slightly. “Ensign Chao, any other damage?”
“No ma’am. But we lost GS-081.”
Tears formed in the corner of Scalise’s eyes, and she looked away.
Her pain was the least of their worries. They’d lost a ship already, and if the bridge crew couldn’t keep up with the changes, they’d probably lose more. Worse, there was a very good chance the Azoren knew the DMZ had been penetrated and where.
Speed was the only thing the task force could fall back on now, and one thing Benson knew from the first days of the academy: Nothing moved faster than the speed of trouble.
9
Sunlight burned the dun sands of the Yelchin Desert so that it appeared as sparkling diamonds blazing in a nuclear furnace. Too long in that desert, and a man would die, whether through automated sniper or tripwire mine or dehydration. O’Bannon had lost soldiers to all three. When the universe held mercy within its cold heart, the kill was instantaneous. Most times, the soldier died screaming for someone to save him. Or finish him.