by Allan, Jay
Garret gave up trying to control himself, and he let out a hard laugh. He agreed completely with Compton had done. He’d have made the same decision himself, and he’d have ordered Compton to take precisely the action he did. In fact, he’d have scolded his friend if he’d sat around and done nothing to aid Jacobs. But none of that would stop him from giving Compton a good-natured hard time when he was finally able to catch up with him. Which, from the looks of the ships left behind at Sandoval, would be a while.
“I have it easier than you. Erik took all the elite veterans with him, but the rest of the troops can march onto transports just as easily as the old salts.” Holm’s voice had become serious. “I don’t mean to piss in your pool, but you’re going to have to do some serious triage on some of these ships. The Imperial tubs don’t look like they’ve seen a maintenance crew since I was a boot. And some of the RIC ships aren’t much better.” Holm looked like he’d tasted something bad. “And I hate to say it, but a lot of ours are in pretty rough shape. I know your people repaired what they could, but the last few years have been hard on the fleet.” The shipyards had been working around the clock, but there just wasn’t enough time to complete all the repairs and upgrades. A lot of ships would have to go to war half-prepared. The alternative would be to postpone the invasion…and give the First Imperium time to launch their own renewed attack.
Garret stared back, the grin clinging to his face, but drained of all its sincerity. “Thanks for the update. Let me know when you want help digging a trench.” They both chuckled for a few seconds, but it didn’t last. There was a lot of work to do and not much time, and they both knew it. “The problem is, we need to get going…and soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “A lot of these ships may have problems, but they’re still a significant percentage of our firepower. I’m glad Terry’s on the way to back up Jacobs, but I wouldn’t want him to run into a too big of a fight either. Not without the rest of the fleet.” He took a breath, and looked right at Holm. “It’s not like we know what’s waiting for us out there.”
“Terrance left Camille Harmon in command, didn’t he?” Holm’s question hadn’t really demanded an answer, but Garret nodded one anyway. Compton had taken Erica West with him as his exec. She had more experience fighting the First Imperium forces, and besides, Harmon was senior of the two, which made her the logical choice to leave in charge until Garret returned. “I’m sure she’s been kicking every ass she can reach to get these ships ready for action.” Holm smiled. He felt a little out of his depth discussing naval matters, but he’d always liked Camille Harmon. She seemed like an independent thinker who still knew when to play things “by the book.” His own top subordinates were a little wilder. Catherine Gilson was a rogue who had little use for conventional rules. And Cain was even worse…Holm wasn’t sure he even knew what the book was. “Harmon’s got a better handle than you on what shape these ships are in. Sit down with her and just go through them all and give each one a quick yea or nay. There’s no point prolonging things, wishing you had more time.”
Garret stood quietly for a moment. Holm was right. He didn’t have time to study things in detail. He knew the Alliance ships backward and forward, but he had forces here from nine Superpowers, and he realized he had nowhere to begin in evaluating them. Not in the amount of time he was willing to delay their departure. “You’re right, Elias.” His face relaxed slightly as he felt the relief of having chosen a course of action. He tapped the comlink on his collar. “Control, this is Admiral Garret. Please have Admiral Harmon report to me immediately.”
“Do you think they can be ready in six days?” Garret stared intently at Camille Harmon. “Really ready?” Garret had put his foot down; the fleet was leaving in less than one Earth week. No changes, no excuses, no delays. It had been three weeks since Garret and Holm had returned, and there had always been a good reason to push things back. A new shipment of laser buoys, a capital ship that could be ready in just a few more days, more repairs that could be completed. Garret realized there would always be a good reason to wait. All mankind was mobilizing, activating mothballed ships and producing new weapons. But the war wasn’t going to be decided at Sandoval…that battle had already been fought, and if they gave the enemy time to come back, he knew his people would lose the return engagement. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen. The war would be decided in First Imperium space. If the enemy ended up back at Sandoval, it would be over the shattered debris of the human fleet…over Augustus Garret’s dead body.
She looked back, her expression focused and intense. “I do, sir.” Camille Harmon was one of the toughest flag officers in the Alliance navy. If she said she was sure of something, Garret took it as a given. “I had a…mmm…a talk with their captain.” Shanghai had suffered considerable damage during the fighting at Samvar, and Harmon had been less than impressed with the CAC repair efforts.
“I bet that was something to see.” Garret allowed himself a fleeting smile. Harmon was a well-known hardass in the Alliance navy, but he didn’t know how much of her rep had made it to the CAC. Though, whatever had been known before, he suspected that word had spread by now.
“I just asked him how he’d like to go back to Hong Kong and explain how I replaced him with an Alliance captain because he couldn’t get his ship ready on time.” Her voice was deadpan, serious.
Garret hesitated. He wanted her pushing everyone hard, but not tearing apart the Grand Pact. They couldn’t afford infighting now. Garret already had his Alliance personnel greatly over-represented in command positions. He risked it because he knew them, and he trusted them…and because the Alliance navy was far and away the best of any of the Powers. But the last thing he needed was one of his officers deliberately provoking the CAC. “Camille, we need to tread lightly with the other Powers…especially the CAC and the Caliphate.” The Alliance’s two bitter enemies had reluctantly agreed to follow Admiral Garret in the war against the First Imperium, but the relationship was still a fragile one.
“I wasn’t going to actually do it, sir.” Harmon’s gaze was stone cold. “I just told him I would. A little bluff is useful now and again, wouldn’t you agree?”
Garret stared for a second, looking right into Harmon’s unchanging gaze. Then he erupted into laughter. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
She finally allowed herself a smile. “I know my way around an ace, sir. I used to do pretty well back at the Academy.”
Garret himself had always been a middling poker player, despite Terrance Compton’s best efforts to teach him. Garret was too aggressive; he always went for the throat, and he lacked the patience a great player needed. Compton, on the other hand, was widely considered the best card player ever to have served in the Alliance navy. Rumors in the bars of Armstrong and Arcadia held that he had secret accounts stashed on a dozen worlds, a lifetime’s winnings. Whatever the truth about Compton’s alleged secret wealth, he’d largely stopped playing years before, when his rising rank made it impractical to find opponents who weren’t under his command.
“Well, admiral, just remember when you are bluffing and when you have a hand.” His voice was more serious. He trusted Harmon’s judgment, but he wanted to reinforce the point anyway. “You can go a little harder on our own people, but I need you to be diplomatic with the other services.” He paused, just for a second. “Remember, we need their help to win this war. Don’t assume the political leaders on Earth aren’t stupid enough to trash our war effort over some internal argument.” He looked right at her. “They are.”
She made a face, but she nodded as well. “Understood, sir.”
Garret nodded back. “So let’s get through this list.” He looked back down at the large ‘pad on the table. “What about Shogun? She’s old, but she carries four fighter groups. Any chance we can get her moving by the deadline? Even if her lasers are shot, she’s worth having just as a carrier.”
Harmon looked doubtful. Shogun had been the PRC’s flagship over 40 year
s before, but she’d been two decades in mothballed reserve. “She’s really old, admiral. Her service dates back to the Second Frontier War.”
Garret gave her an icy stare. “So does mine, Camille.” He snorted a short laugh. He’d always felt a little self-deprecating humor served a commander well. It was a good counter for all the hero worship, sincere and otherwise. “Though it’s hard to believe I was ever that young.” He stared at the ‘pad, but for a few moments his mind was elsewhere, drifting slowly across the years gone by. Garret had a lot of memories…and a fair number of regrets too. But he had work to do now, and he cut his self-indulgence short. “Still, I’d like to see if we can get her engines tuned up enough to keep pace.” He slid his finger across the screen, expanding a list of specifications displayed next to the schematic. “See what you can do.”
“Yes, sir.” She was silent for a few seconds, thinking. “Maybe if we strip out the lasers and missiles entirely…make her a pure bomber platform. We could cut the mass. Might be just enough for her to keep up with the fleet.” She looked up from the ‘pad, eyes finding Garret’s. “Her weaponry’s old, and her targeting systems are hopelessly obsolete. She wouldn’t be much good in the line anyway.”
Garret didn’t hesitate. “Do it.” A broken down old battleship wouldn’t be worth much in a missile or energy weapons duel with the enemy, but four extra fighter groups were worth their weight in trans-uranic elements. “But the deadline holds, Camille. Whatever isn’t ready in six days stays behind.” He squinted as he looked over at her.
“Yes, sir.” She wasn’t going to argue; she agreed with him completely on the need to get the rest of the fleet out to the battlezone before any heavy combat started. No one wanted the fleet divided when the climactic battle took place. Still, she understood how seductive it was to push the deadline, telling yourself a few more days will add extra hulls to the OB. Garret wasn’t immune to that thinking either, but he was disciplined, and he’d drawn the line. She doubted anything could change it now…and she knew for damned sure she wouldn’t even try. She’d make sure Shogun was ready in six days.
Chapter 9
Central Pavilion
Armstrong Spaceport
Armstrong - Gamma Pavonis III
“Are you sure you want to go back to Earth?” Sarah Linden’s voice dripped with disdain when she spoke the name of her home world. Her life on Earth was something she’d spent the years since then trying to forget. She had no idea what lay ahead for her, where he life would lead…but she knew she’d need a hell of a reason to go back to Earth.
Alex brushed a wisp of long blond hair out of her face. “I’m sure.” Her voice was soft, a little shaky. Alex Linden was clearly troubled, her usual steady confidence shattered. She was trying to hide it, to look calm and confident, but her normally perfect control was failing her. “I have to, Sarah. I have some things I have to deal with.” Her mind raced as she spoke, her meticulous logic gone, emotions running wild. Is this the sister I’ve hated all these years, she wondered? Those old wounds were still there, the anger, the blame, the lust for vengeance. She remembered her dead parents, the years of squalor, of destitution. For a lifetime she’d blamed Sarah for all of it. But reuniting with her long lost sister had been nothing like she’d expected. There were other feelings there too…confusion, certainly, but was there also affection? It wasn’t possible, she thought…she’d been so resolved in her hatred for so long, so convinced her sister was the cause of her years of misery. Now her resolve was weakening…or was it? Was it reasonable to blame Sarah for all that had happened to their family? She was lost, not sure what to do or think. And for Alex Linden, there was nothing worse than feeling out of control.
Sarah shifted her weight as she stood on the polished floor of the spaceport concourse. She was tense too, clearly worried. She wanted to argue, to convince her sister to stay on Armstrong. She was sure no good could come of going to Earth. But she held herself back. Sarah knew what her life had been as a girl struggling to survive in the violent ghettoes and semi-abandoned suburban wastelands. She’d tried to forget, but of course that wasn’t possible. Some things stayed with you for life. She reminded herself that she had no idea – none – what Alex had gone through, what part of her soul survival had cost her. They’d avoided discussing that part of their lives, neither of them asking anything or offering any information. Sarah had never spoken of that time to anyone, no one except Erik. And she hadn’t told him everything.
“Take care of yourself, Alex.” Sarah tried to hide her disapproval. She had a bad feeling about Alex returning to Earth, but she tried to respect her sister’s wishes. “And come back. I don’t want to wait another thirty years to see my little sister again.” She smiled with genuine affection. In her wildest dreams, Sarah Linden had never dared to imagine that any of her family had survived.
Alex returned the smile, unsure as she did how much sincerity was there. Some, certainly, though that only added to her confusion. Her own emotions were considerably more complex than Sarah’s. “You take care of yourself. I’m not the one shipping out to a warzone.” That was another reason Alex was leaving. Sarah had been gone for months, deployed on Sandoval running the field hospital there. Now she was back, but only for a few weeks, to organize the fleet of hospital ships that would be supporting Grand Fleet. She’d be leaving herself in a few days.
Alex looked at her sister. If you were staying on Armstrong, she thought, I would stay too…and we could finish this, one way or another. Alex had originally intended to kill Sarah, as soon as she’d had the chance to assassinate Erik Cain. But Cain was unreachable now, and Alex’s resolve had faded, leaving her no idea what she felt or what she wanted to do. But she knew she couldn’t remain here on Armstrong, alone, waiting months – years? – for her sister to return. If Sarah came back at all. By all accounts, the battle to come would be the most massive ever fought. She wondered what she would feel if Sarah was killed in the fighting? Vindication? Relief? Sadness? Loss? She didn’t know. No matter how many times she tried to imagine it, she couldn’t guess at what her feelings would be. But she knew she couldn’t stay on Armstrong any longer, alone, waiting. No, Alex had to go back to Earth…and figure out who she truly was.
“I have to go, Alex. The war is too important, and it’s who I am.” Sarah felt guilty being away so frequently, right after her sister had reappeared, but she was a Marine, as much as any of the men and women in powered armor at the front. It was inconceivable to her to remain behind when the cream of the Corps was going to battle. She couldn’t make any other choice, not and be true to who she was. “The Marines need me. I can’t stay here while they fight and die when I could save some of them. But I’ll be back.” She sounded confident. Intellectually, she knew she was going into enormous danger, but Sarah didn’t dwell on the risks. She just did what she had to do, what she felt was right. “And I want you to promise me you’ll come back too.”
Alex rubbed her hands along her thighs, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll try, Sarah.” It might be better for both of us, my dear sister, she thought, if we never see each other again. But she didn’t say anything; she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She looked at Sarah and forced a smile to her face.
“Promise me.” Sarah’s voice was insistent. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her sister. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Alex was silent. She extended her arms and returned Sarah’s hug. Finally, softly, she said, “I promise.” She felt it was a mistake even as it was leaving her lips.
Gavin Stark was staring at the ‘pad, reading the report with something he rarely experienced…surprise. “My dear little Alex,” he muttered softly to himself. “It appears there is a heart inside that sexy little body after all, even if it is mostly covered in liquid nitrogen.”
Stark had sent Alex to Armstrong to kill Erik Cain, using her sister to get to the troublesome Marine. But the First Imperium invasion had put all that on hold. While mankind faced a menace of t
his magnitude, even Gavin Stark wanted Erik Cain alive and well, and in the front lines. He’d instructed Alex to abort the assassination for the time being and to remain on Armstrong, providing as much intel as possible. Alliance Intelligence was mostly a bystander in the war against the First Imperium, but that didn’t mean Stark wasn’t interested in everything that was going on. Alex had done just what she was told for a time, but before long her reports became less and less frequent, finally stopping entirely.
Stark found it amusing that it didn’t seem to occur to Alex he’d have someone watching her. Maybe she figured she was good enough to spot any tail…or perhaps she thought she had him so mesmerized with her sexual skills he actually trusted her. “You’re just about the tastiest little treat I’ve ever had, my dear Alex, but that makes me trust you less, not more, silly girl.” Stark’s voice was barely a whisper. Or maybe she knew he was watching her, he thought, and she just didn’t care. If that was the case, she was further gone than he’d guessed.
Alex Linden had always been a stone cold agent, seemingly without weakness or emotion. But she’d spent the last year half-drunk and amped up on Mindblast. Even Stark was stunned to see her lose her composure. As far as he’d ever seen, she rarely drank and never touched drugs. Alex had been the coldest control freak Stark had ever seen…other than the one he saw in the mirror. Now she was falling to pieces, old wounds tearing her apart, ripping down the cold-blooded psyche she’d so painstakingly built. Stark finished the report, leaning back after he was done and looking through the window at the glittering buildings of the Washbalt Core. He muttered softly, thinking out loud really. “How can I use this?”