by Britt Ringel
“Is this the right thing to do?” Hunter asked while avoiding eye contact with Davis. His voice was thick with trepidation. “I mean… is it honorable?” Muted nods in support of Hunter filtered around the room.
Sabrina Twist stepped forward and spoke to the audience. “I am pleased to hear such a question from our officers. The Republic was founded on honor and integrity and we must protect the ideals that are the cornerstones of our very foundation. Ours is the midnight task to be performed so the Republic's citizens can bask in the light of freedom. We will bear the stain of duty and sacrifice, on the heart and in the mind, but history will bear out that it is not a price too steep to pay.”
An officer behind Twist asked bluntly, “Is this a one way trip for us?”
The secretary shifted her gaze from the audience to the admiral.
Davis looked at the star chart for several long moments before answering. “It’s not intended to be, Captain. The Hollarans will become very preoccupied with the Parasites but Honos still has considerable defenses. The plan calls for us to use our fleet’s superior speed to traverse well outside of Honos’ usual star lanes and dive to Helike. That system is still attempting to recover from the war. Helike leads to Kale, which is still neutral ground and, of course, from Kale we can dive back to home space.” He turned to look directly at the captain. “I won’t lie to you. The return trip is sketchy and certainly dangerous but our return is possible and wholly in our own hands. Not only are our ships smaller and capable of greater speed than most Hollaran warships, we’ve designed these new ship classes to leverage every advantage. Point defense capabilities alone have been increased by twenty-three percent. Getting clear of Honos is the key. After Honos, Hollaran resistance will drop off significantly, although it will still be considerable.”
“If any of you do not wish to serve the Republic,” Sebastian Brewer stated loudly, “you may voice your dissent now.” The man’s words were answered only by the sound of recirculating air through the auditorium’s ventilation system.
“Good,” Davis uttered with a curt nod. He slid his hand over the datapad and the organizational chart reappeared. “Each of you has been assigned your ship based on your individual abilities and performance throughout your careers. You represent the best the Republic has to offer. Admiral Tomes from Personnel has crewed out each ship but, as captains, you have final say over your sailors, including the option to handpick officers. You will submit any requests to me and I will up-channel them through proper authorities to ensure their reliability for such a critical mission.” He looked around the room. “On that note, each of you is now officially sequestered. You will not speak to anyone outside our circle until we return from Hollaran space.”
Twist noted some tortured looks among the group but no one voiced their dismay.
“Fine then,” Davis said. “Let me begin with our analysis of Parasite starship abilities.”
* * *
Twist stood for the first time in several hours. His legs ached from inactivity but the promise of Brevic redemption was a panacea for his body and soul. As the meeting ended, senior officers broke into small circles to discuss details of the overall plan. Instead of seeking out his counterpart stealth ship captain, Twist looked toward the stage with an ardent hope. His mother was in discussion with the Secretary of Internal Security. Twist saw her eyes cast toward him before she nodded to Brewer a final time. He felt his skin break out in gooseflesh as his mother descended the stage and began to walk toward him.
Another commander intercepted her. The military woman enthusiastically reached out to shake her hand while uttering platitudes unheard by Caden’s ears. Sabrina Twist smiled politely and engaged just enough before the commander again shook her hand and trotted off. Seconds later, mother and son embraced.
Sabrina unwrapped her arms first. “This is it, Caden,” she told him. “The ship captains that command this fleet will be remembered for as long as the Republic stands.”
Caden smiled faintly at his mother. “It’s good to see you too. How have you been?”
Aging eyes appraised her son. The same lines that had etched an elegance into her face ten years ago now told a more weathered tale. “Busy, as you might imagine. To the public, this is the Expeditionary Fleet funded by the NEED bill. Appearances must be kept up.” She smiled slyly, causing the grooves at the corners of her mouth to deepen. “Not to mention, I’m going to be the next Minister of Public Relations and Information. Hutchison is retiring and he’s unofficially named me his successor.”
Caden’s smile brightened. “Congratulations! I know how hard you’ve worked for that.”
Sabrina’s face transformed into a naked grin, providing a fleeting glimpse of her younger self. “The Republic rewards those loyal to her, Caden.” Her tone took on a scholarly note. “Remember that, my son.”
“How is Dad?” he asked.
“He’s fine, I guess.” Sabrina took an excited step closer to him and lowered her voice. “I lobbied Sebastian to give you command of a scout. Those ships are incredible! They will change how we conduct fleet combat and you’ll write the opening chapters.”
“Are they not just picket ships? Will I get to fight, Mom?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes upward. “We will win by not fighting, Caden. Nobody fights the Parasites and truly wins. Even Garrett Heskan admitted as much. Fighting them isn’t an option. You saw what they did on that old destroyer, now imagine what they’d do on a planet.”
Caden examined the floor as he contemplated his mother’s words. Finally, he took several, furtive looks around to ensure a measure of privacy in the crowded room. “You saw the faces in this room. Is this wise? Is the council making a mistake?”
Sabrina’s eyes widened and she took an involuntary step away from her son. After the briefest hesitation, she stepped to him again and hugged him fiercely. In his ear, she whispered, “It’s only unwise to ask such questions, Caden. Enemies of the Republic deserve a punishing end. Don’t become one, for I cannot protect you forever.”
She pushed away from him and added, “Besides, it’s poetic. After all, the Hollarans tried to unleash this threat upon us.”
“You’re right,” Caden conceded. He looked toward the enormous wall screen, now blank. “It’s just that you said yourself how terrible these things are. I’d hate to have them spread to us.”
Sabrina dismissed his concern with a sweeping gesture. “We’ve been planning this for a decade. Nothing has been left to chance and, besides, the Hollarans will stop the Parasites… eventually.” She smiled maliciously. “They’ll just be forced to destroy several of their most strategic and economically developed star systems to do it.”
“What about retaliation?” Caden asked.
Sabrina’s blue eyes lit up as she merrily stated, “It’s estimated that the Commonwealth will lose over a quarter of its star systems and nearly thirty percent of its population before defeating the Parasites. They won’t have the strength to retaliate.”
Caden’s eyes widened at her response.
Chapter 42
The clamor from the shuttle’s engines wound down as its pilot throttled back to idle. Inside Pathfinder’s hangar, Commander Twist waited impatiently for atmosphere to refill behind the containment field. Pathfinder’s sole shuttle stood quietly on the small, designated landing pad.
At 98,000 tonnes, Pathfinder was a small ship. More petite than a standard Republic frigate with her narrow beam and stunted length, the curved transmittance plates covering her broadsides gave her an unmistakably distinctive appearance never seen in stellar naval history.
Given her size and her mission, Twist understood why his new command carried only one shuttle. The rest of the small hangar was packed with four custom navigation buoys crammed along the port wall. The nearest buoy was a scant meter from the forward bulkhead and its three identical sisters were evenly positioned in a line ending at the hangar’s deck-mounted retractable doors. In theory, Twist’s sensor section co
uld remove atmosphere and gravity from the hangar, “walk” a buoy to the open doors and simply guide it down and out of the scout ship. The time to deploy a navigation buoy, usually several hours, would be reduced to well under sixty minutes.
Only if the buoys function as promised, he reminded himself. He cast a long glance at the nearest one. The enormous cylindrical instrument looked similar to other navigation buoys deployed across the Republic but it would serve a far different function.
There was a metallic crunch as a taxi mule magnetically locked with the shuttle. The confines inside the hangar dictated the use of a mule rather than a less precise pilot’s taxi. The shuttle moved forward only ten meters before coming to rest inside yellow parking lines painted on the deck.
Twist squeezed between the shuttle and buoys to stand at the shuttle’s entrance. He could hear clatter inside the craft before the double doors opened downward into a ramp that offered Pathfinder’s first officer access to the ship.
“Vix!” he called out with a grin.
Lieutenant Commander Vix Kirkpatrick walked down the ramp with a broad smile. He stopped at the end of the ramp, collected his military bearing and rendered a smart salute. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
Twist returned the salute and said, “Granted, Commander. Welcome aboard.”
Kirkpatrick stepped off the ramp and onto Pathfinder. A second later, the two men shook hands for the first time in several years.
“About time you showed up,” Twist teased. “It’s good to have you. Are you ready for this?”
The pair retreated down the narrow path between the shuttle and buoys, toward the hangar’s exit. Near the doors, two able spacemen from Operations stood silently, waiting to board the shuttle to gather their first officer’s belongings.
“I hope so,” Kirkpatrick replied. “To be honest, I kind of thought this was an elaborate gag until I saw Pathfinder.” He looked at his new captain. “I received the briefing upon arrival in Tarvos and was sure this was a dream, or nightmare.”
They reached the exit and stepped into Pathfinder’s narrow hallways. “It’s real,” Twist assured. “And we’re going to be right at the tip of the spear. Pathfinder and our sister-ship, Pioneer, have run two exercises now and we’ve closed to within seven light-minutes of the rest of the fleet without detection.”
Kirkpatrick looked skeptically at Twist. “Seven light-minutes? This t-stealth really works?”
Twist acknowledged the cynicism with a shrug. “It seems to.” A corner of his mouth curled upward. “It’d be kind of a cruel joke on us otherwise.”
“What are the sensor capabilities of the Parasite ships?”
Twist shrugged again uneasily. “Unknown. We think their detection technology is comparable to ours. I’ve poured over every report written about them. The best indicators we have come from when Admiral Heskan’s CortRon apparently escaped detection in the Iocaste system.”
“Do you really believ—” Kirkpatrick cut himself off. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “How’s Lucy?”
The men turned a corner and approached a lift. “She’s on the bridge. She’s good,” Twist stated. “It’s hard to believe the last time we all saw each other was on Thalassa.”
“I’ve hardly heard from her since,” Kirkpatrick admitted. “I guess she’s doing well in SENS then?”
Twist tapped the elevator command console on the bulkhead. After a moment, he reached into his thigh pocket, fished out his datapad and waved it over the panel. Pathfinder’s silicon brain immediately rerouted the nearest elevator to her captain. “I kept in touch,” he said. “All her OPRs are firewall right and she’s been decorated for meritorious service in her last assignment in the sensor section.”
“I still can’t believe that she cross-trained and abandoned Weapons,” Kirkpatrick said.
“With the end of the war and the fleet’s new focus on the exploration and development of our northern border…” The elevator doors opened. “It made sense to her. Frankly, I’m happy she’ll be behind the sensor station on the bridge. Pathfinder isn’t a warship so much as a spy ship. If we get into a shooting match against the Parasites, we’re in heaps of trouble.”
“A single, centerline missile port, two dual pulse laser turrets mounted near the bow and two quad pulse lasers split between our belly and back… and that’s it.” Kirkpatrick shook his head. “T-stealth better work.”
“Bridge,” Twist commanded and the lift shuddered into motion. “You’ll see, Vix.”
The hum of the elevator offered a white noise background to their conversation. “Did you get a chance to see your family in Narvi?” Twist asked.
Kirkpatrick groaned. “No. As soon as I got to Tarvos, they sequestered me.” He gestured in frustration. “I was one star system away and I wasn’t even allowed to send them a message.”
Twist placed a sympathetic hand on his first officer. “They did the same thing to all of us when we got here. The upper echelon doesn’t want any chance of a security leak. We’ve even been under comm restrictions during exercises.”
“When does the next exercise start?”
Twist glanced at the chronometer on his datapad. “Soon, a little under thirty minutes.”
“What’s my role in it?” Kirkpatrick asked a little unsteadily.
“Just to observe,” Twist said. “Although we only have two exercises left, so you’ll watch the first and then command Pathfinder on the final one.”
Kirkpatrick’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “How’s the crew?”
“Best in the Navy.”
Twist’s datapad beeped and consumed his attention for the rest of the trip. When they exited the elevator, Kirkpatrick naturally took his position to the left of his captain.
“Captain on the bridge,” Lucy Holt announced from the captain’s chair. She rose to her impressive height after the declaration. “Captain, Pathfinder has reached our initial point for the exercise. We are at relative rest. Transmittance generator is charging but inactive.”
“Thank you, Lucy,” Twist said while walking toward his seat.
The brown-haired lieutenant commander moved quickly to her sensor panel near the front of the bridge. As she passed by Kirkpatrick, she flashed her gregarious smile and said, “Vix Kirkpatrick, as I live and breathe.”
Kirkpatrick returned her smile. “How are you doing?”
“Spoiling for a fight. Operations wants to saddle half of my sensormen with additional duties that should be assigned to Pathfinder’s weapons crew. My folks are in charge of keeping our transmittance gear running and they don’t have time to run errands.”
Lieutenant Mosi Diallo growled from his weapons console.
“Uh,” Kirkpatrick temporized before asking, “what’d the Captain say?”
Holt and Twist answered in unison, “He said to let you handle it.”
* * *
The recorded image of Adira Fane stared directly at Brewer and gave both a final order and warning. “Protect the Republic.”
In his quarters aboard BRS Docent, Brewer reflected upon her message as the monitor grew dark. He had already prepared his departure report to the minister. The report included the results of Task Group One’s last exercise before leaving the Tarvos system for good.
Captains Twist and Hunter had proven adept at evading detection and Admiral Davis’ fleet captains had demonstrated considerable proficiency at point defense. The latter was unsurprising since Davis had been given the most accomplished officers in the entire Brevic Navy. Davis himself was… manageable.
Rear Admiral Christopher Davis had spent most of his career in Third Fleet. Charged with protecting the Republic’s “northern” border, the fleet was typically overlooked and quiet. Second Fleet garnered most of the Navy’s attention and credit. The hardest charging admirals and most bombastic personalities sought out positions in the “War Fleet” positioned along the Commonwealth border. Most Third Fleet admirals were used
to taking backseats to their flashier brothers in Second. The exception had been the late Mitchell “Hurricane” Hayes, the only Third Fleet admiral decorated during the Brevic-Hollaran War. Hayes would have been a poor choice to lead the Expeditionary Fleet. Davis would show deference to Brewer, he hoped, as the two men shared the fleet’s flagship.
Brewer’s datapad chirped. It was Davis.
“Mr. Secretary, I’m about to order the fleet into caravan formation and make way for the Narvi tunnel point. Do you wish your presence on the flag bridge?”
Docent, the only command destroyer in existence and the smallest flagship ever built, contained two bridges. The first resided on the destroyer’s middle deck, slightly forward of center. This was her main bridge, the compartment from which Captain Dawson commanded the sleek destroyer. On the same deck but positioned aft was Docent’s flag bridge, from which Admiral Davis commanded the entire task group. The split bridges provided the fleet admiral a position for strategic command without interfering with Dawson’s ability to captain the single ship.
“That is unnecessary, Admiral,” Brewer decided and terminated the connection. His eyes returned to his final report to Minister Fane. He had meticulously constructed it over the course of several hours. It was perfect. Yet still, he reviewed it again.
Chapter 43
Lieutenant Lucas Fitts watched the chronometer count down on his navigation panel. “Tunnel drive activation in sixty seconds.”