by Mike Smith
His executive officer wordlessly handing him a data pad with the ship’s registry had him jumping from his seat moving swiftly towards his helm officer. “Flank speed! Now!” he ordered. “I want to be alongside that shuttle five minutes ago.” Hitting the communications button on the flight controls he opened a channel to the medical bay. “Doctor,” he ordered. “We have two patients that will be arriving shortly, I have been informed that the Commander is badly injured. Get a medical team down to the docking bay immediately, and Doctor…” The captain thought for a moment how best to phrase the next instruction. “I expect both patients to make a full recovery, or so help us God…”
The SPC Intrepid accelerated towards the smaller shuttle at flank speed, desperate to assist the occupants.
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System
It was a very uncomfortable, sickly looking, Paul Harrington that arrived late for the Senior Staff meeting, early the following morning. Paul had stayed up late, long after his conversation with Sofia had ended, his guilty conscience waging war with the obligation that he felt towards Jon. His stomach was not much helped by the bombshell that Sofia had dropped during the call, that she would be paying the station a personal visit. Paul knew that it was his duty to inform Jon and the senior staff of the visit, but how the hell do you drop a visit from the Confederation President into a conversation? Not to say the least that it immediately begged the next question, how do you know of an impending visit by the Confederation President?
No, Paul felt distinctly sick, and his mood was not helped by the fact that eventually he fell into a restless sleep, dreams full of escaping down deserted station corridors, fleeing flaming swords and women with auburn hair and green eyes. Having overslept, Paul was disgruntled to find that Jon had called a further senior staff meeting at short notice, for first thing in the morning, and he was already running late! Paul could not decide which thought was most appealing at the moment – Harkov and his fleet arriving and blowing them all to hell, or Sofia arriving and she and Jon killing each other. Either option would put Paul out of his misery… The final icing on the cake, having rushed to the briefing room, as if the flames of hell were lapping at his heels, Paul arrived to find that Jon…was not there. Neither was any coffee.
Today was NOT starting off to be a good day, Paul grouched to himself silently. Quietly asking around the room to see if anybody had any clue of why Jon had called the meeting. Perhaps it was to charge their Operations Chief with treason and his public execution? After all Marcus had been known to indulge in such public spectacles, and Jon was by far his most adept pupil. Still lost morosely in thought, he looked up as the doors slid open and he observed Jon practically skip into the room.
Well at least somebody had a good night, Paul thought sourly. Suddenly realising what that thought could possibly imply, and bearing in mind the imminent arrival of a particular Princess, Paul frantically looked around the room. He was only partly relieved to see Miranda present, fully clothed, seated and staring at Jon with a worried expression.
Well at least that is one less thing to worry about.
Once Jon was sure that he had everybody’s attention, he activated the holoprojector, which rendered a three-dimensional tactical map of Terra Nova and the surrounding space. The image hovered ghostly only inches above the briefing room table for all to see. “Following the meeting yesterday, I had a number of visitors last night, all of whom made their personal views on the imminent attack blatantly clear,” Jon racked the faces of his senior officers with his penetrating gaze one-by-one. Many of them had the decency to cast their gaze away to avoid his piercing stare. “However, I have always made it clear that I value my senior officer’s opinions and insights, that has not changed. I confess that my original plan had been to order the evacuation of the station; I would have remained behind to ensure that Terra Nova did not fall into Syndicate or Harkov’s hands.”
Paul could only guess the half of it. Somehow he doubted that the original plan had entailed Jon simply overloading the fusion reactor and making a clean escape…well not unless Harkov was sitting on the reactor at the time…
“Numerous members of the senior staff made it plainly clear that they had no intention of following such orders. Therefore as it is not practical to charge my entire complement of senior staff, with the exception of Paul…”
All eyes in the room turned to face Paul, who just shrugged nonchalantly. “I was putting the kids to sleep, I would have got around to doing it.”
“…with failing to follow a direct order and treason. It looks like we will have to go with the alternative plan, demonstrating to the Commodore why the people sitting around this table are the elite of the old Imperial Navy. Harkov has ruined enough lives, caused the deaths of too many innocents; I say we draw the line here. No more. If it’s a fight that Harkov wants, then it’s a fight that he will have, and if we fail? Then perhaps it will send a message to the Confederation, that there are still some people left that will stand and fight for what is right, that the strong cannot always intimidate the weak. That threats, intimidation and violence do not hold sway over all…” Jon cast his eye across the occupants of the room, proud that he had known them, proud that he had the opportunity to serve with them.
“I will not make this an order,” Jon insisted firmly. “Some of you have family, loved ones, both here on the station and across the system. Nobody would think less of you if you wanted to leave, I will be extending that offer to all occupants of the station both crew and families. This is not your fight, but if you want to stay, then I will be honoured to fight at your side.” Glancing once more at the occupants of the room, none of whom had said a word, none of whom had moved an inch. “Very well then…” Jon said, turning towards the holographic tactical display floating above the briefing table, “then here’s the plan…”
For the next few hours Jon walked through the plan in exacting detail. By the end of the first hour, Paul’s jaw was sore from his mouth being agape in astonishment. Having known Jon for so long, it was easy to take his casual style of command for granted. However, he was reminded during the briefing why Jon had made Commander in the Imperial Fleet, the youngest Commander in the history of the Imperial Navy. Jon had one of the best tactical minds of his generation. Effortlessly balancing response times, ship speeds, capabilities and weapon ranges, Jon had overnight produced a plan that was worthy of any fleet admiral, equal parts genius and reckless folly. In summary it was a plan uniquely of Jon’s devising and possibly, just maybe, it could work.
At the end of the briefing, Paul raised the only concern that he could foresee. “What about the Imperial Star?” he said, referring to the old flagship of the Imperial Navy. “I see no mention of it during this plan, that ship alone has the armaments and fire-power to tear our ships and station apart.”
“Leave the Imperial Star to me,” Jon insisted.
“And you’re going to deal with it alone, how?” Paul inquired.
“That’s on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know.”
Which was Jon’s way of saying that he was not going to tell him, as he would not like the answer. In turn this meant that the plan was dangerous, highly risky and most likely going to fail. Then again the entire plan was the same - too many assumptions, too many estimates, educated guesses about manoeuvres, positioning… Then again as Jon would remind him, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. They had both had that quote drilled into them at the fleet academy, and how many subsequent engagements had they been in together where the plan had gone out the window even before the first shots were fired. Paul sighed despondently, there was nothing that either Jon or he could do about that.
With no further questions, a lot of preparation’s to make, and an uncertain timeframe, as they had no idea if the fleet would arrive in the next few hours, days or weeks, the meeting quickly broke up, with the senior officers preparing to brief their depart
ments.
“You’ve been very quiet,” Jon mentioned after the rest of the officers had left the room, leaving just the two of them, alone.
“I still think we should inform the Confederation Navy, this is their problem. If you had only forwarded the intelligence on that data-chip that you obtained on Transcendence...”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon had the decency to look aside, ashamed. “Sofia, she would have…” his voice trailed off, “I couldn’t put her in that danger,” he tried to justify.
“But you think that it is fine to put my family at risk, my wife, my children?” Paul demanded angrily banging his fist on the table in frustration.
“They still have time to leave…” Jon pointed out reasonably, “but what would happen if we all just pack-up and leave? You think Harkov would stop looking? No, he would just find us another time, another place, possibly next time without any forewarning.” Leaning forward, Jon insisted intensely “I care about them too, after all. I have helped you read them stories before bed, put them to sleep… I’ll do everything in my power to keep them safe, even if it costs me my life,” Jon stated earnestly.
Paul nodded his head in understanding; deep down he knew that Jon would never put them purposely at risk, not even for his own desire for revenge. His anger was just born out of frustration and his own gnawing guilt about his own recent actions.
“But I cannot do this alone,” Jon continued seriously. “I’ve always been able to count on you and your support, this is no exception, and so what do you say? One final time into the breach?”
“You know that your plan is completely insane don’t you?”
“Of course it is; all my plans are completely crazy. What you mean is that maybe it’s crazy enough that we might just be able to pull it off?”
“Remember when Carol asks, it’s all your idea.”
“Yeah, like she will ever believe that,” Jon teased slapping his oldest friend on the back.
*****
The next few days saw frantic activity throughout the station as key systems were tested and re-tested; the refit of the final freighter into a warship was hurriedly completed. Jon spent a lot of time personally checking the systems on the Eternal Light, ensuring that all of the weapons were fully loaded and ready.
As he promised to his senior officers however, Jon took the time out to brief the crew. Explaining in great deal the threat to the station and the inherent risks they faced in staying. He repeated his earlier promise, that nobody would be forced to stay, anybody who wished to leave could do so, with no stain on their honour. Gunny made a short speech thereafter, assuring all the inhabitants of the station that while the crew was fending off the fleet, David, himself, Security and the Marines on the station would be guaranteeing their personal safety.
The quiet confidence of the two senior officers made a big impression on the civilians of the station and after some brief discussion, the decision was unanimous, they were all staying. Even the children present; while they did not understand the seriousness of the situation, they agreed that they were all better staying on the station with their parents. If the imposing Marine sergeant promised them that they would be safe, who were they to doubt him? After all, they had all heard what Gunny had done to the monster that was hiding in Lieutenant Castle’s daughter’s wardrobe… Any bad people trying to get onto their station were going to be in big trouble!
It was with quiet, determined, military efficiency that all the systems were checked, refits completed in record time and weapons prepared… that just left the waiting. As nerves became strained, tempers frayed and tension raised, it was with some relief that the gravimetric sensors, seeded around the station many years before, chimed their alert reporting a large body of incoming ships dropping out of FTL.
Paul in C&C was waiting to find out who the ships exiting FTL belonged to, unsure what was the worst evil - Harkov and the 4th fleet arriving to wreck their destruction, or the Confederation reinforcements that Sofia had promised, along with the explanation of their presence. However, that question was quickly answered as the mighty Star Carrier, the Imperial Star, flagship of the old Imperial fleet, exited FTL with its escorts in tow. There seemed little point alerting the station to the fleet’s arrival as everybody was already on knife-edge and had been for the last 72 hours, when Jon had announced to the station that the fleet that was en-route.
“Incoming communication from the Imperial Star, sir,” the communications officer reported needlessly as Jon had been expecting the call for days. Bracing himself, in preparation to face his past, Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement. Taking a deep breath, Jon faced the view screen in preparation… Act One
As the view screen came to life, Jon leaned forward in his chair and before Harkov could say a word, pre-empted. “You’re late Commodore, we expected you several days ago. Did you get lost on the way?” he smirked. The key to Jon’s entire plan was that they needed to keep the initiative, to stay one step ahead of the Imperial Fleet, for if they did not, then they would be crushed by their superior number of ships and sheer firepower.
Time had not been kind to Commodore Harkov. When Jon had seen him last, many years ago, poor exercise and an even worse diet had left him pale and sickly looking. If anything the man looked even worse, having obviously put on several pounds, his hair, once streaked with grey, was now thin and blanched almost white, and with thin beady eyes, that looked out over his hooked nose. He stared at Jon with poorly concealed surprise, mixed with disgust and distaste. However, Jon noticed something else lurking in his eyes, was that a trace of fear? Their last encounter several years before had not ended well for the Commodore. Then Jon only had a squadron of fighters at his command, with the element of surprise firmly on the Commodore’s side. Jon expected that the Commodore would have much preferred the element of surprise once again.
“Still splashing around like the small fish that you are Radec,” Harkov sneered at him. “You were always a small fish, swimming in a sea of sharks, but this time it looks like you are swimming alone. I don’t see any of your precious Praetorians that you can hide behind this time. No running away this time, with your tail between your legs and leaving them to die in your place.”
Jon gripped the armrests of his chair, until they were white with the strain, forcing himself not to let the Commodore bait him, as he knew that was exactly what he was trying to do. “What do you want Harkov?” Jon spat out.
“Want?” Harkov asked in surprise. “I want lots of things, but I guess we can start with you. I could guarantee your safety, but let’s be honest; we both know that I would by lying. You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long. I promised myself your head on a platter and I have been waiting a long time…It would almost be worthwhile keeping you alive long enough for you to see what I am going to do to Marcus’s daughter. A shame, I had such great plans for her, but alas they are all worthless now. I’ll just have to suffice with using her in another way, almost enjoyable, but then I hear it’s nothing that you have not already done? I must confess that I am surprised at you Commander, really what would Marcus think?”
“I think Marcus would wonder why I have not already taken your head off and stuck it on a pike, for the rest of the Imperium to see what happened to those officers that commit treason,” Jon retorted angrily. “Then again maybe I will just give your bloated corpse to Sofia, so she could have you stuffed and hung on the wall. It’s not the usual sort of present that she likes, but in your case I think she would be happy to make an exception.”
“Enough of this crap!” Harkov exclaimed angrily. “Will you surrender yourself to my forces?”
“You know, if for a moment I thought that you would actually take me and leave, I would consider it, but you will destroy this station and everybody on it the moment I surrender to you, so I think I’ll decline the generous offer, Commodore.”
Harkov just shrugged, obviously not expecting that Jon would simply roll over and die. Without much surprise, Jon obse
rved on the tactical display that the Imperial Star had commenced launching its full complement of fighters. Obviously the Commodore planned to use these as the fleet’s hammer, and then the rest of the fleet would mop-up any remaining defenders. It was the first page of tactical doctrine drilled into the lowest officer; as a result it was totally predictable. Jon meanwhile had long since torn all the pages out of the book of tactical doctrine and was busy writing an entirely new book.
“We have civilians on this station Commodore; women and children that have nothing to do with this,” Jon quickly interjected while Harkov was still willing to talk.
“Their loss,” Harkov shrugged. “The station is a military objective, therefore anyone remaining on it is a valid target.”
“Understood, but what if they left in shuttles under a flag of truce?” Jon proposed, desperate to get the women and children out of the way before the firefight that was soon going to get underway.
The Commodore seemed to think about it for a moment, before he nodded in agreement. “Very well, I give my word as an officer of the Imperial Fleet that the shuttles will be able to leave unharmed, as long as you give me your word that they are unarmed.”
“You have my word Commodore,” Jon promised.
“Very well,” Harkov replied ending the communication.
“Launch the shuttles, and give Eagles one, two and three the green light to engage the Imperial forces as soon as the shuttles are clear,” Jon ordered Paul. “I’ll be in the Eternal Light, call me if you need me.”
“You’d better be sure about this,” Paul replied. “Remember it’s my family you’re putting at risk.”
“Don’t worry, I know exactly what I am doing.”
“That’s what worries me,” Paul complained, carrying out the orders regardless.