War Without Honor (Halloran's War Series Book 1)

by J. R. Geoghan

  Deacon walked behind as Djembe opened the bridge hatch and moved to his station ro drop into the seat. He spun the chair to face Deacon, tapping the console. “This is what happened. Tomalloran.”

  The Earther crewman manning the station across the way said under his breath, “Tom Halloran, you maroon.”

  Djembe ignored the comment and continued. “The Captain is taking us to Mars, Deacon. In the meantime, plans go off track and you have to have contingencies. Me, I know where my ship is stashed and I plan to get back there.” He sighed. “At this point, I’ll be just happy to stay alive long enough to do that. Will I get paid for all this?” He pointed at Deacon. “You promised me. So did Tomalloran.”

  The other crewman groaned.

  “What?” Djembe burst out at the man, who he remembered was named Chapan.

  “It’s Tom Halloran. Captain to you.”

  “So his…I don’t understand you Earthers.”

  “Hey!” Deacon bristled.

  Djembe half-grinned at him. “See, that’s the spunk I want to see. You go save your planet.” He thumbed at the crewman. These ones want to do that, too.”

  “That’s right,” Chapan said as he lost interest and turned away to his instruments.

  “But,” Deacon said, “I feel useless. I don’t know ships.”

  Djembe nodded, thinking. After a moment he looked up. “You want to learn how to fly this thing?”

  The young man visibly brightened. “Really, Djembe?”

  The pilot lifted a cautionary hand. “Hold on, now. There’s got to be a simulator aboard for training. We need to find that and get you strapped into it before you think about pushing any of these buttons.”

  Deacon was almost hopping on one foot in his excitement. “I’ll do it! Tell me where to go first.”

  Chapan didn’t look over, but Djembe heard him murmur, “Better tell the Chief first.”

  Djembe nodded at the reminder. “You know Mr. Reyes?”

  “Of course.” Deacon looked hurt.

  “You go find him and tell him old Djembe sent you to find the training simulators.” He winked. “Let’s keep my promise quiet for the moment, deal?”

  “Deal.” He started to walk with purpose from the bridge, but stopped at Djembe’s call.

  “You stick with me, kid. We’ll get you and your big red friend where you need to go.”

  Deacon thought about it for moment, then smiled. “Thank you, Djembe.” And he was gone in a flash.

  Djembe felt Chapan looking at him as he spun back to his position. “What?”

  Chapan nodded. “That was a good thing you did.”

  “Ah, I don’t know.” Djembe began to examine some instruments. “We’re all probably gonna die out here before we even get close to Mars again.” But he smirked to himself all the same.

  Halloran waited patiently in the center of the repaired cargo bay. He admired the clean welding of the main hatch, which they’d gone back and recovered after the Valor had turned and flown off toward Agra. Chief Parker had actually gone out in an ill-fitting Prax space suit—complaining the whole time about the experience—and inspected the damage, declaring to to Halloran afterward that the best course of action was to try and find the missing hatch itself.

  The past ten days had been a whirlwind of activity aboard. Damage from the battle had been assessed and jobs assigned to effect repairs. Actually, for all the shakes and shudders of the hull in the heat of it, the ship had sustained far less damage than he had assumed. The miracle was in the outer hull made of some exotic metal that actually closed up after being holed. Everyone had been properly amazed at that revelation. The projectiles that had penetrated the interior had exited cleanly with a few exceptions, which were found lodged in bulkheads on B and C decks, one very close to the proton reactor that powered most of the ship. The jump drive was the greatest casualty of the fight. It was offline from damage and no one knew how to replicate the destroyed parts yet.

  So, the rest of the damage was welded up with equipment procured by Axxa from hidden locations, with several teams of crew helping Chief Parker. Corpsman Whitney had been introduced to the medical bay on B deck and left there with Seaman Petrey to familiarize himself with the place. Thankfully, despite several very near-misses, no one had sustained injuries beyond bumps and scratches. Missile Tech Flagler and Machinists Mate DeBartelo had been assigned to Petty Officer Wilson and group-dispatched to the weapons rooms to learn how the different systems operated and assess their reload status after firing during the battle.

  Sonar Tech David Chapan had wandered up to the bridge and been spotted by Carruthers, who assigned him to Yeoman Butler and packed them both off to find the sensor arrays and learn where on the ship the direction-finding and ranging computers were located. Gail had bonded with Djembe and he was teaching her about piloting on the bridge. Down in Engineering, Mark Hummel and Trigg Wyatt began systematically tearing components of of the engines apart, aided by the young Lieutenant Travers who’d come aboard with Captain Kendra. Apparently he was an engineer officer himself in this human fleet.

  Halloran shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands clasped behind his back and idly watching his boots move on the decking. In the back of his mind he was mulling over the latest nightmare he’d experienced. More of the same he’d had in recent days; one of his family calling to him, angry…death. Fractured impressions of faces he didn’t recognize, moving close but always just out of reach of Halloran’s grasping hands. Rage. That, he knew, emanated from himself—rage at those who had done this to him…to his crew. He had ground his teeth in frustration at the specters that plagued him when he slept. Someone would pay.

  He knew that Pyotr stood nearby, probably watching him. The Russian had assumed the role of Executive Officer seamlessly, moving along with Reyes through the ship and crew as the days progressed. The two of them had rolled up their sleeves and waded in to help with repairs, working mightily to learn the layout of the ship’s systems as they did. Each evening, the three of them had met in the officer’s wardroom (yes, the ship had one) and pored over drawings discovered by Axxa in the ship’s computer and displayed on holographic tables—another miracle of tech, those. They could read the plans in 2D or switch to a 3D rendering that they could spin, compress, expand and make notes of locations requiring further study.

  The Prax had more than proved his worth. He’d moved from group to group, tirelessly, pointing out what needed to be done…and what needed to be avoided or handled with care. The crew, for their part, were more than willing to learn, to be doing something after what they’d been through. When Halloran had decided that learning some Prax language would be in order for interpreting the myriad of characters and numerals on virtually every surface of the ship, Axxa had volunteered to hold court in the crew’s mess (yes, the crew had found that on the first day and claimed it). He’d lectured groups of them on the meaning and pronunciation thereof. He’d done better than Halloran could have hoped.

  Even Deacon had been trying to fit in somewhat, alternatively following Reyes and Djembe around. Something about learning to pilot. Halloran caught that the idea had been the old man’s, and had made a mental note to thank him for giving the Earth refugee something to work toward. It wasn’t as though he was going to be getting his reward from the Fleet anytime soon.

  Halloran wondered about that. After the attack by the Valor, he’d been glad to put some distance between the two ships. Once Heres had given up and moved off toward Agra colony, someone seemed to have had a change of heart and a repeating signal of conciliation had begun coming in. Mistaken orders, come in from the cold, etc etc. Halloran had been tempted, but his mind was already turned to new directions.

  There would be no going back now. He’d return, yes, but on his own terms.

  He looked up as the crew began filtering into the bay. As the group formed to muster, he noticed with pride that the group had turned out in their best uniforms. They were still working on the clothin
g replicators—some piece of shrapnel had gone clean through a unit that had no handy spare parts. But still, they looked good. More to the point, he could see the difference in their faces; submariners yearn for work, a job given. This ship had been good to them already. Given them purpose.

  Halloran looked around the bay again. Better than it had been to its last owners.

  Chief Reyes approached, standing respectfully with his hands at his side. He made eye contact with Halloran and nodded.

  Halloran smiled. “You want to say a few words first, Chief of the Boat?”

  Reyes returned the smile. “Maybe next time, sir. I’ve still got a lot of butt-kicking to do aboard this ship.” He drew himself up to a slow salute. “Gold Crew all present and accounted for, Captain.”

  Halloran glanced at Antonov, then stepped forward.

  “’Ten ‘shun on deck!’” Reyes called.

  Feet snapped to and backs straightened.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Halloran looked up and down the double line. The camo eight-point caps. Name patches carefully attached. Serious faces, not making eye contact with him. Most importantly, the dolphin insignias clipped to each chest. “There’s no denying that our journey has been long and hard, and every one of us is missing loved ones back home. We’re trapped in a world—a time—where I can’t promise you we’ll ever get back.” He saw the tightening of faces. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to try!”

  He let that raised comment echo off the bulkheads as he turned and paced a few meters before stopping and turning to them again. “In the meantime, God has graciously seen fit to grant us a new ship. Look around you, folks; this is your new billet, and we’re on one hell of a sea duty.” He heard a few chuckles from the group at that. Reyes’ face wore a bemused expression. Antonov had lowered his face to avoid letting the guffaw slip. Good. These people needed that.

  “So…” He looked around. “We’ve got a ship. And a crew. Not everyone we wish we could have. Each of us has lost crewmates in the past few weeks. I expect each of you to grieve over that, do you understand?” He clasped the hands behind his back tighter. Axxa was there, behind the group, standing next to Deacon. “We will not forget the sacrifice of those who paid the price.”

  The bay was silent as he paced back to where he had started. “Now, we need a mission. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that we need to engage the enemy. I intend to engage the enemy. That means all of you need to learn your departments ASAP. Your Acting Executive Officer,” he waved at Antonov, “and I expect nothing but the best from you. We shall proceed to Earth and get the rest of our crew back, then deal with the enemy who has occupied it.” He looked up and down the line. “But, there’s more bad news you should be aware of. The human Fleet has branded us as worthy of destruction. We’re on the run from most everyone now.” He smiled broadly. “You might say we’re pirates!”

  His smile was infectious, and was reflected on many faces. Also good. They would need their smile in the days to come.

  “So, we have a ship, a crew, a mission and a mandate. But…” He put his hands in the air, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in serving aboard the Trellixan. Hmm…what should we rename this fine vessel donated to our cause by the Praxxan government?”

  They were catching his mirth and small smiles had now become guarded giggles. His own smile threatened to crack into his ears. He walked over to Reyes and said loudly, “Chief, I know you speak at all times for this crew. Well, we’ve lost the Bonhomme Richard…what say you to naming this captured vessel?” Halloran took on a officious air, looking at the group.

  Reyes turned serious, huffing out his chest. “Sir! May I strongly suggest the name of USS Serapis?”

  Halloran nodded, moisture forming in his right eye. “Are you certain, Chief? Wouldn’t that make me Captain John Paul Jones?”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Reyes grinned. “They called him a pirate, too, if I remember my history.” But Halloran saw him tear up, just a bit. “Do we intend to go in harm’s way, Captain?”

  Halloran shook his Chief’s hand. “Oh, most certainly.” He shouted to the group. “I wish to have no connection with a ship that does not sail fast…do you hear that, Serapis?”

  As the crew hooted and shouted their approval Halloran composed himself and stepped back to the center of the line. Letting the moment hang. He saw Captain Kendra standing to one side of the bay with Travers, her face completely devoid of expression. But there was Djembe, with Deacon beside him. Halloran saw the pilot’s understanding smile and returned it. I have not yet begun to fight. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can’t say I have a bottle of champagne handy…” That got several laughs. “…But I’m willing to fore-go the formal christening until a later date. So, as a duly appointed representative of the United States government and the Department of the Navy, I hereby christen this vessel the United States Ship Serapis! May she always go in harm’s way.”

  The cheering filled the bay and filled his soul, more than anything had since as long as he could remember. They were back.

  Chapter 56

  Aboard USS Serapis

  Halloran was standing at the long clearsteel viewport at the rear of A deck when Kendra turned the corner and found him looking intently out into the blackness.

  She approached slowly. “You asked for me?”

  He nodded at her. “I see Captain Antonov relayed my message.”

  Kendra straightened her uniform and came over to stand next to him.

  Finally, Halloran crossed his arms. “Lots of Captains on this ship.”

  Kendra considered the statement. “No, a ship can have only one Captain.”

  He looked at her. She was tall, almost as tall as he. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  “Yes you have. After you placated me, you had work to do. You don’t think I understand that?”

  He looked away, then back at her. “Was that a smile?” His eyes narrowed. “I think that was a smile.”

  “A little one.”

  “Well, I’ll take that.” Halloran grew serious. “So I suppose we’re kidnappers as well as pirates, having two Fleet officers aboard.”

  “I’m not sure. I was basically being relegated to shore duty permanently at the time you hijacked my passenger ship. Travers, well he was going back to school.” She looked at him curiously. “I don’t think the Fleet will miss us much.”

  “So you’re staying?” Halloran had offered, at their initial negotiation after the gun incident, to drop her at the nearest safe facility…if they could find one.

  Kendra’s face dropped for a moment, then returned to him. “I want to fight. You don’t know much about me, but there’s some things you need to know.”

  “Oh?” Halloran leaned against the viewport.

  She paced to the back of the passageway, then returned to him. “My father is Admiral Kendall.” She nodded at his expression. “He commands all of the Sol System for the Fleet. I have no idea how he is taking my disappearance, but he has a tough campaign on his hands with the Prax. We were close to breaking several times recently. One push,” she made a shoving motion with her hand, “and we may lose the system.”

  “That explains so much.”

  She looked at him curiously. “What?”

  “You’re an Admiral’s daughter.”

  “Were you even listening?”

  He grinned. “Don’t get mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m trying to explain the military situation—.”

  “Are you an only child, too?”

  Her eyes popped. “What?!”

  Halloran was enjoying himself. “Yes or no?”

  “No, actually not. Is there a point?”

  “Just curious.”

  Kendra exhaled, controlling herself. “Now. This ship represents some all-new technology that could turn the tide.”

  “Um hmm.”

  “If we got it into the hands of—.”

  Halloran stopped her with an upraised palm.
“No, Captain. This ship is mine.”

  She bristled. “How can you say it’s yours?” She asked incredulously.

  “I just did. It pays to be a renegade sometimes.” He cut off her reply. “You need to understand that I’m more angry than you are that aliens have taken over Earth. When I woke up a few weeks ago before we were transported through time, I was on the beautiful island of Hawaii about to go on a sea cruise. Now, most of my crew is dead or marooned. Yes, I’m going to go after the Prax.” His face grew serious. “They deserve every bit of revenge we can exact upon them.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I want your help, Kendra. The fact that you have a connection may or may not turn out for the best, but it’s you I want. Your fire.”

  Kendra stilled under his hand, her eyes meeting his. How deep they are. His fire burns bright, she thought. Finally, she nodded. “Agreed.”

  He removed his hand. “So you had a ship.”

  “Yes. Destroyed in battle.”

  “The crew?”

  “Several survived in the pod with me.”

  “Travers?”

  She nodded, looking away.

  “I could tell. So, you’ve been through it, too.”

  Kendra didn’t say anything.

  Halloran turned back to the space vista. “They’re more than family.”

  “I had to fight to earn their loyalty. It’s different with you. Your crew. They revere you.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, don’t be fooled. I didn’t use a cutlass to win my Captaincy, but it wasn’t handed to me.”

  “What’s a cutlass?”

  “A pirate reference. You might call them Haulers.”

  She thought a moment. “I’m not an Earther. I was born on Coloran.”

  “That’s in the Ceti System?”

  She nodded. “My sister is more concerned about Earth than Coloran I think, sometimes. I don’t share her desire to sacrifice so much for a dead planet. Sorry,” She added.

  Halloran didn’t look at her. “So your sister is in the Fleet, too?”

  “She’s in charge of intelligence operations on Mars.”