If DiAntora was surprised, she didn’t show it. Her eyes studied him with so much intense curiosity that Seaman second-guessed whether or not he should tell her what he was thinking. But he’d played his hand. So he relaxed his arms and looked back at Capriana.
When several more seconds had passed, DiAntora finally spoke. “You seem averse to these orders.”
“And how do they make you feel?”
“Feelings are irrelevant, sir.”
“Are they?” Seaman studied her face for a moment. Was she really so cold and calculating? “You’re back above Aluross in this same scenario. The order comes to you to fire on the capital—to fire on everything that moves. Are you telling me you don’t feel anything?”
“I did not say I didn’t feel anything,” she replied, straight-faced. “I said feelings are irrelevant. There is a difference.”
“So you would follow orders to annihilate the planet, city by city? Even take out emergency ships departing the surface?”
DiAntora was calculating every word—every micro-expression—Seaman could feel it. She didn’t even blink. For a moment, he thought the woman was going to side against him. She’d blow up her whole damn planet if it were an order, he realized.
“No.”
Seaman held his breath.
“You wouldn’t?”
“Must I repeat myself to you?”
Seaman squinted at her, trying to think where to go next. “I just never figured you for treason.”
“The charges would include failure to follow a direct order in a time of war, misconduct, and gross dereliction of duty. Treason would only apply should I attempt to thwart the government’s attempts actively.”
“And would you ever attempt to thwart your government’s military activities?”
“I have never been placed in a situation where such a provocation—”
“Dammit, Lani,” Seaman said as he brought his fist down on his table. DiAntora’s eyes widened in what was, perhaps, the first emotional reaction above “barely breathing” that Seaman had ever seen her make. He shot a finger toward Capriana and stood from his chair. “Would you fire on that planet and wipe it out?”
“It’s an order?”
“Yes, it’s a mysticsdamned order,” he shouted back. “And you’re going to relay it if it comes down the COC.”
DiAntora lowered her eyes and seemed to search the carpeted floor. Perhaps the Sekmit had a soul after all.
Seaman could feel heat flushing his face. “I need to know what my subordinate is going to do, Flag Captain DiAntora. What is your answer.”
DiAntora snapped her chin up, and Seaman could have sworn he saw a tear staining the fur below her eye. “No, Commodore,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will not fire on that planet.”
Seaman exhaled and turned his head away. Then he returned to his chair and leaned back. “No, you wouldn’t, would you. Because above all things, Lani DiAntora, you are an honorable person. That is why you’re a fine commander.” He looked up at her. “The uniform did not make you great. You were great before you went to the academy.”
She bowed her head ever so slightly. “Thank you, Commodore.” Then she took a deep breath and swallowed. “I will relieve myself of command and confine myself to my quarters.”
“Like hell, you will,” Seaman said.
As if in defiance, DiAntora stood in the blink of an eye. Seaman was about to order that she sit down when he saw the woman look at something in the near distance. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if there was something in his office to catch her attention, but there wasn’t.
“Captain,” Seaman said with some concern. “Are you all right?”
DiAntora tilted her head and twitched her ears as if listening to something. Again, Seaman looked around the room but heard and saw nothing. But he did feel something. A wave of warmth washed over him that he couldn’t explain—like the sun emerging from behind a cloud and warming his skin.
DiAntora raised her paw-like hand and held it flat in front of her. Her eyes looked at it like she was pressing against an invisible wall.
What the hell is happening? Seaman asked himself.
But then he felt such a strange sensation of peace that he could not be mad at DiAntora. And—to his surprise—neither could he be afraid. Whatever apprehension he had about resisting Brighton’s orders was gone. And not gone as if it created a vacuum in his heart, but gone as if something else had replaced it entirely. It was an emotion he had felt many times before, but nowhere near as strong as now.
Courage.
* * *
“We must get word to CENTCOM,” Seaman said now that DiAnotra was seated again. Whatever strange thing had happened in his quarters, it was gone now, and Seaman had a job to do. “We can prevent the attack by raising the planetary defense shield.”
“But won’t they conference with Fleet Admiral Brighton first?” DiAntora asked.
Seaman nodded. “That is procedure. But I’m hoping that my rank will avail me a certain benefit of the doubt.”
“You could also say you’re acting at his behest. By the time Brighton realizes the shield has been activated, it will be too late to deactivate the startup sequence. Furthermore, any attempt to implore CENTCOM to lower it would exacerbate the situation, raising CENTCOM’s suspicions of foul play.”
“And reassure them of their defensive measures,” Seaman added.
“Until such time as an investigation can determine the culprits.” DiAntora tilted her head at him. “You’ll be arrested, of course. As will I.”
“Lani, I don’t think either of us will be around long enough for that.”
She smiled. “Neither do I, Commodore.”
“David, please.”
DiAnotra eyed him as if being cautious. “Sir, naval protocol dictates that we—”
“We’re about to try and undermine Lord Moldark. I want the person complicit with me to at least call me by my first name if we’re going to die.”
She nodded and repeated her previous statement. “Neither do I, David.”
He liked the sound of that—more than he would ever admit, at least until all this was over.
“Bridge to Captain DiAntora,” a voice said over ceiling speakers.
“Go ahead,” she replied.
“Sensors are showing that Lord Moldark’s personal shuttle has departed for the surface, along with ten heavy transports. We thought you would like to know.”
“I am aware. Thank you, Nyquist.”
The channel closed, and DiAntora looked at Seaman as he brought up a holo. He zoomed in on a group of ships departing from Third Fleet and descending toward the atmosphere.
“It’s the Peregrine,” Seaman said. “And he’s got enough Marines to hit the Forum Republica if he wants.”
“Perhaps command has changed their mind about Article 99,” DiAntora said, but Seaman could tell by the tone in her voice that she wasn’t convinced.
“What are you up to?” Seaman said, watching the ships fade away. He thought for a few more seconds, then looked at DiAntora. “I don’t like it. I’m hailing CENTCOM.”
She nodded and then started typing on his desk. A control surface appeared under her fingers, and within seconds a holo window appeared in front of Seaman. He thanked her with a nod of his head, straightened his uniform, and sat up straight.
The holo frame read Connecting… but nothing happened for several seconds. A new message read Diverting… and then Senator Blackman’s face appeared. He was not inside CENTCOM but seemed to be walking somewhere in a hurry.
“Senator Blackman, this is Commodore David Seaman with the Paragon’s First Fleet. I was hoping you could—”
The screen went fuzzy, and the sound was muffled as if Blackman had stuffed the data pad under his arm. The mic picked up the sound of rustling clothing and shouting in the distance. And the sound of blaster fire.
“Senator? What’s going on there?” Seaman exchanged a worried look with DiAntora.
“Senator, can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, Commodore,” Blackman said at last, holding the screen up to his face and brushing grey hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry for the delay. How can I help you?”
Again, Seaman glanced at DiAntora. Something was wrong. “Is everything all right there, Senator?”
“Quite so,” Blackman said, still out of breath. “I’m attending a training exercise as part of a public relations campaign to bolster support for the Marine Corps among some of the Secessionists. Not the best place for a call. But I can talk now.”
Seaman raised an eyebrow. Either Blackman really was where he said he was, or this was the fastest thinking senator on Capriana. “Pardon the inquiry, sir, but why didn’t anyone inside CENTCOM’s Command Center answer?”
Blackman smiled. “You don’t call CENTCOM much, do you, son.”
This much was evident as Seaman had never had reason or seniority to—until now. “No, Senator.”
“As acting Chairman, I receive all calls from our military forces abroad, whether or not I’m in the Command Center. Now, I expect what you have for me is urgent?”
“Yes, Senator. It appears that Lord Moldark has left for Capriana.” Seaman couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected a faint tic in Blackman’s upper lip.
“Ah, yes. Of course he is.”
“You’re expecting him then?”
Blackman lowered his voice and leaned into the data pad. “The Nine are gathering to discuss our next plans, Commodore.”
Seaman hesitated. “Who are the Nine?”
“I see.” Blackman narrowed his eyes at Seaman. “Son, does your CO know you’re calling me right now?”
Seaman lifted his chin. “No, sir. That’s why we’re calling you.”
“We?” His eyebrows went up. “Who else is with you?”
“I meant that rhetorically, Senator. It seems someone has issued Article 99 against Capriana Prime. Was that the Nine?”
“It’s a security measure, son. Nothing more. You needn’t fear a thing.”
“A security measure?”
“The Valdaiga Accords as well the Naval Rules of Engagement call for certain preemptive procedures in the event of other factors that are”—he waved a hand—“far too complex for this conversation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the presentation, and you—I think—need to stop initiating conspicuous interchanges behind your CO’s back. Am I right?”
Seaman felt at a loss for what to say—which was a rare thing given his capacity as a leader.
“I said, am I right, Commodore?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Blackman out.”
“Seaman—” The call ended. “Out.”
DiAntora closed the window and then sat back in her chair. She raised a furry eyebrow at Seaman. “He’s lying, you know.”
“I think so too.”
“No, I don’t mean to say I think he’s lying. I’m saying he’s lying as a fact.”
“Ah,” Seaman replied, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “So, where does this put us?”
“I sense fear in the senator.”
“Like he wasn’t expecting Moldark.”
She nodded. “And he was inside CENTCOM, just not the Command Center.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I’ve seen that hallway before, on other calls.”
He sat forward. “You’ve been on calls with CENTCOM before?”
“As an observer, not an initiator.”
Seaman sighed. “And the Nine—what was that about?”
“Perhaps the organization in control of the Paragon,” DiAntora offered. “Though, from what I gathered during that call, they’ve lost control.”
“So you think Moldark’s really going to order it? Article 99, I mean?”
“And they’re not raising the PDS.” She stroked her chin. “I’m not sure what his trip down there is for, but when Moldark gets back…”
“When he gets back, it could mean the end of billions of lives.”
DiAntora nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
* * *
“General Lovell,” Seaman said as he stood from his desk. “Please, come in.”
“Always an honor to be a guest of Fleet Command,” Lovell said, stepping into Seaman’s quarters. He also acknowledged DiAntora. “Captain.”
“It’s good to see you, General.”
“Please,” Seaman said. “Have a seat.”
Lovell sat and smoothed his uniform. He could have hailed from Limbia Centrella, given his commanding presence and dark complexion, but he was born and raised on Capriana Prime, like most other generals of standing. The Republic could claim impartiality all it wanted, but the majority of its commanding officers had roots on Prime in one way or another—the Brigadier General was no exception.
“How can I help you both?” Lovell said. Seaman shared a glance with DiAntora and then looked back at the general. The general seemed to catch the look. “What seems to be the matter?”
“General, are you aware of the Fleet Admiral’s recent order?” Seaman asked.
Lovell looked between DiAntora and Seaman. “If you don’t mean the order to return to Capriana Prime following the successful campaign against the Jujari, then I’m afraid you have me at a loss.”
The way Lovell said “successful campaign against the Jujari” made Seaman second guess his decision to pull the general into the fold. If he had sided with Moldark, then this was going to be a very short meeting—one Seaman doubted he’d survive. While his Navy pride was strong, he would be no match for the seasoned Marine war hero seated across from him. He knew Lovell could kill him before Seaman knew what happened. But if Seaman wanted to save Prime, then he had to take risks, and there was no time to spare. One way or another, he would probably lose his life in the conflict—it might as well be for something he believed in.
“Moldark has issued Article 99 against Capriana Prime,” Seaman said. “We’re awaiting the order to execute at any moment.”
At first, Lovell didn’t move. He looked passively at Seaman as if he were still waiting for the punchline of a tired joke. But when Seaman failed to say anything further, the general worked his jaw, and simply said, “I see,” followed with a sniff.
“I take it you weren’t aware then?”
“No, I was not, Commodore. This is the first I’ve heard.”
Seaman nodded and then looked out the window toward the planet. “And if I were to ask if you would be complicit in following through on this order?”
“You’re asking if I would sanction it?” He looked between the two of them.
Seaman nodded.
“Hell no, not in a million lifetimes.”
Seaman let out a breath, as did DiAntora. “We hoped you’d say that, General.”
“Well, apparently, I’m among like-minded people?”
“Yes, General,” DiAntora said. “You most certainly are.”
“Do you have some sort of plan besides abstaining?”
“We’re working on that,” DiAntora said. “And that’s why you’re here. We need your help.”
Seaman outlined the call with Blackman and Moldark’s departure to the planet’s surface. “We’re not sure what he’s up to, but we would like you to send an element of Marines to monitor him and keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
“Unusual?” Lovell looked to each of them again. “How do you mean?”
“We think there might be a third party involved, working to undermine the Paragon.”
“As in the assault on the Black Labyrinth?”
Seaman nodded. “The same. We have reason to believe they may be trying to help prevent this genocide.”
“How do you know?”
“Call it a hunch, General. For now, we need boots on the ground.”
Lovell pursed his lips in thought. “I can activate an element right away. Tasks?”
“Track Moldark’s shuttle, report on his activity, and rei
nforce any efforts to stop him should fighting break out.”
“Can do.”
“Thank you, sir,” Seaman said without any attempt to hide his relief. “We’re grateful.”
“And I’m grateful you trusted me. I’ve been suspicious of that bastard for a while now. He’s responsible for me losing some good Marines. And if this is what you say it is, then it’s about time someone sacked up and did something about it. But I do have a question.”
“Go ahead,” Seaman said with an open hand.
“If this doesn’t work—if we can’t figure out how to stop him down there—what then?”
Seaman looked to DiAntora. She raised a single eyebrow as if to say, “Might as well tell him.”
Seaman sighed. “Then we’ll take on any ship that tries to follow his orders.”
20
The rest of first squad gathered in the office suite less than five minutes after Magnus had first arrived on Proconsul Tower’s top floor. The plan was to proceed to the docking platforms and commandeer a transport that would get them to the Simlia atoll where Azelon’s ship would be waiting. Magnus suggested to Caldwell that they simply take a shuttle, pick up Zoll, and head to the Spire themselves, but TO-96 warned against it. Even with CENTCOM in chaos, the odds were still high that the city’s orbit defense cannons would knock out any unauthorized flights above 350 meters.
“Sounds best to stay low, get out of the city’s fire window, and meet at the extraction point,” Caldwell said.
“Copy that,” Magnus replied.
“I do have news on a lighter note,” Caldwell said. “Bosworth intercepted our care package.”
“Our dummy Piper? And how’d that go for him?” In the short time Magnus had known Azelon, he’d learned she didn’t do anything half-assed, so he genuinely pitied whoever was sent to do the ambassador’s dirty work.
“Took out two retrieval vessels,” Caldwell said with a grin. “Bosworth was nowhere to be seen, of course. Probably fled the system by now. But at least he knows we don’t play nice.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 185