Dreadnaught tlfbtf-1

by Jack Campbell

  Desjani, unseen by Charban, rolled her eyes, but her voice was loud enough for the emissaries to easily hear. “They’re still gaming us because those Syndics think the humanitarian and honorable Black Jack won’t blow them to hell. They’ll keep stalling, keep demanding, because no matter what we do they’ll convince themselves that it’s a bluff.”

  Geary nodded, finally able to speak coolly. “I think you’re absolutely right. And if the CEO here thinks that, then there must be CEOs all over Syndic space who believe the same thing, that my desire to avoid civilian casualties and indiscriminate bombardments means I’m soft.”

  “And,” Desjani continued, “that means if this one gets away with it, we’ll face similar ransom demands in every star system that holds Alliance prisoners.”

  He took another glance at the emissaries. Charban was scowling and shaking his head, but Rione simply sat looking back at Geary, not giving any sign of agreement or disapproval. “We only have five hours left before we reach orbit about that planet,” Geary said. “We have already made our position clear, a position fully in keeping with the peace treaty. In my opinion, we now have no alternative except to show these Syndics, and everyone else who will hear about this, what happens in response to such tactics. They need to know that my being an honorable man does not mean that I am an easy mark or that extortion is a viable tactic against the Alliance.”

  “What do you intend?” Rione asked. “We are at peace with these people.”

  “A peace that obligates them to do certain things they refuse to do. That CEO stated that military force will be used to prevent us from pulling out our people.”

  “Yes, he did,” Rione agreed, causing Charban’s scowl to shift from Geary to her.

  “Therefore, I intend to go in there with the amount of force necessary to conduct a safe extraction of our Alliance personnel. That means knocking down any defenses that might imperil the landing force or the ships in orbit, isolating the camp from ground force reinforcements, and dealing with any attempts to attack or otherwise interfere with our operation.”

  To one side, Desjani mouthed a silent and gleeful, Yes!

  Charban, though, shook his head. “It’s too early to embark on such a drastic course of action. The legal ramifications—”

  Thoroughly fed up at the moment with politicians of all types, Geary interrupted. “That may be your opinion, General, but I am in command of this fleet, and you are not.”

  The general reddened slightly, looking to Rione. “We cannot approve of this action.”

  Rione, though, stayed silent again and gave Charban no more sign of support or agreement than she had Geary.

  Geary moved his hand toward the control that would end the conversation. “Unless either of you has the authority to relieve me of command,” he told the emissaries, “I intend taking this action whether you approve or not. Thank you for your input.” He tapped the control, and the images of both emissaries disappeared.

  Desjani, her eyes shining, actually grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. She leaned in close to speak in barely a murmur despite the privacy fields, which should have kept anyone nearby from overhearing normal conversation. “The perfect decision and perfect treatment of those politicians. By the living stars, I love you, Admiral.”

  “That’s not a very professional thing to say, Tanya,” he reminded her in the same low tones.

  “To hell with that. Let’s kick some Syndic butt, darling.”

  THE hastily convened fleet conference had no doubt raised some eyebrows, but as Geary laid out his decision, any signs of concern faded into smiles of approval. No one in the fleet would object to hammering Syndics, peace treaty or no. Which was why Geary took pains to pound home his restrictions. “We have to limit our actions to those justified by the treaty. The Syndics in this star system are in violation of that treaty and have threatened military action to prevent us from exercising our rights under that treaty, giving us the authority to free our personnel by whatever force is necessary. We will not exceed the requirements of necessary force. General Carabali.”

  She nodded to Geary, all professional composure.

  “The fleet’s targeting systems will draw up a list of bombardment targets in order to establish a safe transit corridor for your landing force. I want you and your shuttle commanders to review that list and ensure that it provides the required margin of safety.”

  Another nod. “What will be the rules of engagement for my Marines?” Carabali asked.

  “Your landing will be preceded by broadcasts telling the Syndics that no one who avoids engaging our forces will be targeted, but that anyone or anything who fires on or locks targeting on or points weapons toward or advances toward our forces will be neutralized using all necessary means.”

  Carabali actually smiled thinly. “That should provide adequate guidance for my Marines.”

  General Charban spoke up, his attitude now that of a comrade among his peers. “It is critically important that our Marines follow those rules of engagement and exercise a high degree of restraint in their actions.”

  “That is understood,” Carabali replied politely.

  “And in any event,” Duellos commented, “Marines are renowned for their restraint.”

  A low wave of laughter rolled around the table. Carabali nodded to Duellos, her smile still in place, but Charban’s own belated smile seemed a bit strained.

  “We are going to tear up a decent-size area going in,” Tulev commented. “That is not only required for the safety of our forces but should also serve as an object lesson to CEOs in other Syndic star systems that they cannot demand ransom for our personnel without paying a large price.”

  “Exactly,” Geary said. “An important secondary objective of this operation is to drive home to anyone holding Alliance prisoners of war that those prisoners cannot be employed as bargaining chips. If someone does try that, they’re going to end up losing a lot more than they can hope to gain. We don’t want to face this nonsense in any other star systems. Now, there’s no threat from warships, so all we have to worry about are defenses on the planetary surface and in fixed orbits. Don’t underestimate the threat from those weapons. A particle beam powered by planetary-based sources can be powerful enough to blow right through the shields and armor on even a battleship. All ships are to conduct random evasive movements within their assigned positions. Any questions?”

  “We can’t take out the warships under construction in this star system?” Commander Neeson asked.

  “No. They pose no possible threat to us or to the operation. Destroying them would unquestionably fall outside the bounds of what we’re allowed to do to enforce our rights under the peace treaty.” Geary looked around the table. “We’re doing this right. Not because of what the Syndics might say about our actions but because this fleet does things right. Let it be clearly understood that there will be no ‘accidental’ firing of any weapons at anything other than approved targets. No ‘unexplained events’ in fire-control systems, and no ‘glitches’ in launch mechanisms.”

  Some of his officers tried to look innocent, some feigned shock at the suggestion, and a few openly grinned. But he thought they would all abide by his clear instructions. “Are there any more questions? We don’t have much time to get this operation under way, so if you see any roadblocks, let me know as soon as possible so we can keep things moving.”

  There weren’t, though after he ended the conference, Jane Geary gave him a long look before her image vanished. He hadn’t expected many questions, not from this fleet. The hard questions would have come if he had chosen not to employ force under these circumstances.

  The vast majority of the captains departed in a flurry of disappearing images, both political emissaries going as well, until only Captains Badaya and Duellos remained with Geary and Desjani.

  Badaya beamed approval at Geary. “I could tell how little those politicians liked your decision. This operation will help keep the Syndics in line, but it’s a
lso worthwhile as a reminder to them of who’s in charge.”

  “Hopefully,” Geary agreed, projecting general agreement with Badaya but keeping his own words as vague as possible. Such political behavior irked him, but given Badaya’s potential as a loose cannon, he had no alternative.

  With another broad smile and a wink at Desjani, Badaya saluted and also vanished.

  Looking annoyed, Desjani glared at Duellos. “I hope you’re not also going to imply anything.”

  “Me? Imply anything?” Duellos raised one eyebrow at Desjani. “I just want to know how you did it.”

  She gave him a guiltless look in return. “I had nothing to do with it. The admiral reached the appropriate conclusions on his own.”

  “Completely on his own?”

  “Yes,” Desjani replied. “Mostly.”

  “Mostly?” Duellos nodded and spread his hands. “I’m not thirsty for blood, Admiral, but I do think you reached the right conclusions, mostly completely on your own, about the required course of action.”

  “I take advice from all quarters,” Geary replied. “But since I value your experience and judgment, I particularly appreciate your agreement.”

  Duellos stood and made a mock bow toward him. “We are wasting time here,” Duellos said. “A distraction and a diversion. Why did the government insist upon it when learning more about the aliens seems a far more urgent priority?”

  “If you figure that one out, be sure to let me know.”

  Duellos made a move as if to leave, then paused. “How ironic. We spent long months getting home, trying to guess the motivations and thinking of the alien race we suspected existed. Now we’re devoting our time to trying to guess the motivations and thinking of our government. That reminds me, you are going to keep a close eye on the Marines, aren’t you? Those rules of engagement could too easily be interpreted as a license to kill anything that strikes them as hostile.”

  “Carabali can be trusted to keep them in line, but I’ll make doubly sure she knows that we need to be able to justify every use of firepower.”

  “That’s probably wise, as was your admonition to my fellow commanders.” Duellos seemed to be looking at something distant for a moment. “A lifetime of shooting at anything Syndic is not easily overcome,” he added, his voice shading into sadness.

  After Duellos had left, Geary spent a while just looking at the space vacated by Duellos’s image. A distraction. Yes. And Duellos just pointed out how big a distraction it could be even once we’re done with liberating those prisoners. “Tanya, make sure I stay focused on the aliens once we’re out of this star system.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “You’re worried about that?”

  “I don’t know what’s in that prison, or rather who’s in that prison camp, but we can’t afford for me to be dealing with issues from that when I need to be thinking about what’s ahead. If something we find there is a major distraction, help me keep my focus.”

  “I wish you’d mentioned that before Roberto Duellos left. Your head is so hard sometimes that I might have to borrow a brick from him.”

  A number of Syndic satellites once orbiting the planet, satellites that had been part of the command and control for Syndic defenses or held sensors employed by the defense forces, were now dead objects tumbling into catastrophic reentries of the atmosphere. Four orbiting platforms that had held missiles were also gone.

  As the fleet itself swung into orbit about Dunai’s primary world, Geary took one more look at Rione, who continued to reveal no sign of what she thought about his course of action. “Still nothing from the Syndic CEO?”

  “No. Just a litany of complaints about your ‘unprovoked’ destruction of some of their satellites.”

  He called up a comm window to his left. “General Carabali, how’s it look?”

  Carabali, her eyes on another part of her own display so that she was looking to one side of Geary, gave him a respectful nod. “It’s a fine day for a nonpermissive personnel extraction operation, Admiral.”

  “They’re still prepared to resist?” Geary asked her.

  “Ground forces are dispersed in combat formations around the prison camp,” Carabali replied. A window popped up for Geary, zooming down to the area around the main prison camp. “But we haven’t seen any attempt to bring the prisoners out of their barracks and make them human shields. The Syndics have grounded all of their aircraft, but there are numerous artillery and missile assets within range of the prison camp.”

  “Do you think they’ll fight?”

  “I think, Admiral, that they’re still expecting you to hold back at the last moment. That would explain why they’re not using the prisoners as outright hostages, which could really piss us off. If that’s the case, they may fold when we come in. But they could also have orders to resist to the best of their ability if we actually start sending Marines down.”

  Geary pressed one hand against his forehead, thinking. “Madam Emissary, I would appreciate your assessment of what that CEO is thinking right now.”

  He wondered for a moment if she would reply, but finally Rione began speaking. “He has staked his authority and judgment on the idea that you would give in. Your refusal to give in and his continued insistence on his chosen course of action have increasingly backed him into a corner. If he now offers no resistance when you strike, it will make him look very weak and very foolish. If he fights, it will make him look foolish in his judgments, but not weak. A leader thought to be foolish might survive, especially if he is seen as willing to fight to the end, but a leader believed to be weak and foolish has the chance of a snowball in hell. That is what I would assume he is thinking.”

  Desjani frowned, glanced back toward Rione, then shrugged in an annoyed manner. “I agree,” she whispered to Geary.

  “Then I’ve only got one option.” He activated the bombardment command, the clock on the time-to-launch running steadily down toward zero, then tapped approve and confirmed the order. A few minutes later the countdown spiraled to zero, and warships began spitting out kinetic bombardment rounds.

  The barrage came down through the planet’s atmosphere like a fall of deadly hail, each solid piece of metal dropping at tremendous speed, gaining energy as it plummeted to the surface, until at impact, that energy was released in a burst of destruction. The people on Dunai could see the rounds coming, could determine their targets pretty closely, but had no means of stopping the projectiles and, with the fleet’s warships in high orbit, had only minutes in which to react. Personnel could be seen fleeing targeted facilities and fortifications in vehicles and on foot. Other vehicles with the military units near the prison camp frantically tried to scoot out of danger.

  The bombardment had been timed for every round to hit home as close to simultaneously as possible in order to enhance the psychological impact of the blows. There wasn’t any need to enhance the physical impact as the kinetic projectiles struck their targets. Weapon sites became craters, buildings holding sensors or command and control facilities were blown apart, and roads and bridges disappeared where the rounds hit. In a wide area along the path down which the shuttles would bring the Alliance Marines, and in an extended perimeter outside the prison camp itself, organized planetary defenses ceased to exist within less than a minute.

  “Launch the recovery force,” Geary ordered.

  Shuttles dropped from all four assault transports and from several battleships and battle cruisers as well. Carabali had decided on overwhelming force within the prison camp, and Geary hadn’t hesitated to approve that choice, memories of the fight on Heradao still far too vivid.

  As the Alliance shuttles penetrated the atmosphere and dove for the prison camp, Geary noticed that Desjani was watching them with a bleak expression. “Are you all right?”

  “Just remembering.” She said nothing else, and he left it at that, knowing that Desjani was not yet ready, perhaps never would be ready, to share some of the memories that haunted her.

  The Syndic def
enses seemed to be in total confusion as a result of the bombardment. Aside from disrupted ground forces milling about outside the prison camp, nothing else had gone active. “Twenty-five minutes to first shuttle landings,” Carabali reported to Geary. She was on one of those shuttles but would be among the last to land. “No resistance noted.”

  “We have missile launches from the surface,” the combat systems watch announced at the same time alerts blared on Geary’s display. “Medium-range ballistic missiles from an installation to the northwest of the camp, and low-level cruise missiles from some place to the east.”

  It took three taps of commands to get recommendations from the combat systems. “Fearless, Resolution, and Redoubtable, make sure those ballistic missiles are stopped. Leviathan and Dragon, eliminate the launch site with kinetic bombardment.”

  But the cruise missiles were another matter. Their flight path was taking them at low altitude over a sprawling metropolis with extended suburbs. Hitting them from high up without also striking the civilians below would not be easy. “Colossus and Encroach, destroy the cruise missile launch sites now but wait to engage the cruise missiles until they clear those suburbs, then take them out.”

  “Those suburbs come close to the prison camp,” Desjani pointed out. “You didn’t give them much of a window for engaging those cruise missiles.”

  “We can’t just punch hell lances through civilian dwellings.”

  “They’re forcing you to make that choice!” Desjani insisted, as hell lances from Fearless, Resolution, and Redoubtable tore apart the ballistic missiles at the peak of their trajectories, and the rocks from Leviathan and Dragon headed downward for the place that had launched the missiles. It might be a case of slamming the barn door after the horses escaped, but that particular barn wouldn’t be letting any more horses go after it was turned into a field of craters.

  “I know, but—” Geary broke off speaking as something caught his eye on the display. “What’s Dreadnaught doing?” The battleship was veering downward, leaving high orbit to skim the upper reaches of atmosphere. He hit the comm control viciously. “Dreadnaught. What are you doing?”