Battle of Hercules

by Richard Tongue

   “It’s just as bad if we overestimate them,” Orlova snapped.

   Carpenter, sitting at the back of the room, said, “There are other factors as well, remember. This planet has an archaeological site of the greatest importance.”

   “How’s your analysis coming?” Marshall asked.

   “I don’t want to report it yet, sir.”

   Frowning, he replied, “Why not?”

   She looked from side to side. “Because I don’t believe the results.”

   Leaning forward, he said, “Try me.”

   Sighing, she switched files on her datapad, “The suit reads as being at least ten thousand years old; it’s a design that is, well, totally alien – yet the occupant of the suit is human. Well, nearly.”

   “Neanderthal.”

   She leapt to her feet, staring Marshall in the face, “How the hell did you know that?”

   “When we’re finished here, come up to my office. I need to show you some files relating to our mission to Desdemona last year, files that you don’t have the security clearance to access. Since I suspect you are about to significantly enhance the information within, I want you to take a look.”

   “Captain, I need all the information I can…”

   “You’ll get it. Sit down, Sub-Lieutenant.” Reluctantly, she resumed her seat, “There is something to what you say – getting an investigation team out here to conduct a thorough excavation has to be a priority.”

   “Don’t the people we rescued want to go home?” Mulenga said.

   “Actually, most of them are eager to take their ship back. The rest will go along with it,” Orlova said. “That’s a higher priority for most of them than returning to Mars.”

   “I can understand that,” Zebrova said. “It must have hurt, being stranded there for all those years, and this is a chance for, well, constructive revenge.” She turned to Marshall, “We can’t let that color our judgment, though, sir.”

   “Caine?”

   She picked up the datapad, scanning it for a second, “If it was only a jump away, I’d be all in favor. If we could refuel here, again, I’d want to go for it. As it stands...it’s a big risk.”

   “We’ve got the Hercules crew,” Mulenga said. “Isn’t that sufficient?”

   Marshall nodded, saying, “Orlova?”

   Turning to face him, the young officer smiled, “We should go for it. The intelligence pay-off alone makes it worth the risk.”

   Leaning back in his chair, Marshall reached for a glass of water, taking a quick swig. The consensus of the room had been about what he had expected. With one last glance at his father’s mission plan, he dropped it down to the deck.

   “I’m in command, so the decision is mine. I could give the order to do this, but this one time, I won’t, because all of you are quite right. The risk involved here is beyond anything we’ve ever attempted before, beyond anything that I have any right to demand of the crew. But Sub-Lieutenant Orlova is also correct. This might be the riskiest mission we have ever undertaken, a leap out into the dark with no guarantee of success, or even survival, but the potential payoff is just as great.”

   “I don’t think that any of you around this table doubt that at some point in the near future, we’re likely to be in a war with the Cabal. The information in Hercules' databanks could make the difference between victory and defeat, the intelligence coup of the century. Right now, all we have is a blank space of map labeled ‘Cabal’. We need to fill in that map.”

   Gesturing to his left, he continued, “Back there, back home, there are seventy million people waiting for us. Seventy million people counting on us. We all signed up for this life, to put ourselves on the line to keep them safe for one more day. We take the risks so that they can sleep safe; that’s why we’re out here, why we wear this uniform, why this ship even exists.”

   Pausing for a moment, he looked around the room, “If any of you still think it isn’t worth it, speak up now, and we’ll go home. I won’t hold it against you – in fact, I’ll probably question the sanity of anyone who doesn’t,” he finished with a smile.

   The others looked around the room, each of them waiting to see who would speak first. Orlova had a broad smile running across her face, and Quinn was slowly nodding. He knew that Zebrova was the key here, and her face was an expressionless mask. Finally, it was Mulenga who spoke.

   “You know me, Captain. Always wanting to see new places.” He looked up at the slowly rotating starmap. “This promises to be extremely interesting.”

   “Anyone else?” Marshall said, looking at Zebrova. She caught his eyes, stared into him for a long, cold minute, and then curtly nodded. He smiled, then turned back to the table. “Then the mission is go. We’ll break orbit as soon as the Hercules survivors are on board, and prepare for the hendecaspace jump. I want battle stations and combat drills randomly scheduled for the next two weeks.”

   “We should integrate the Hercules crew into our own, at least until we recapture their ship,” Zebrova said, consulting a datapad.

   “Agreed. Orlova, liaise with Major Marshall and the relevant department heads; you might as well continue as our liaison with the Hercules crew.”

   “Yes, sir. I’ll be going back down as soon as this briefing is completed.”

   “Everything and everyone on this ship is going to have to be at their best if this mission is to succeed. We can’t afford any system to be at anything other than absolute peak efficiency.”

   “I’ll have the engines singing for you, sir,” Quinn replied with such deadpan sincerity that it sent a chuckle going around the table.

   Marshall replied, “They can perform at the victory party. Anything else?” Silence met his words, and he continued, “Dismissed, then.”

   The officers stood up, and began to file out of the room, Zebrova wordlessly leading the way, Orlova and Quinn eagerly chatting about the operation while Mulenga had his head bowed over his datapad, scanning astrographic charts. Caine lingered at the door, and as it closed, turned and sat back down at the table.

   “This is the big one, Danny,” she said.

   “I know.”

   Looking at the course projection, she continued, “I don’t know if I’d have had the guts to order this mission. Almost anyone else would have taken the safe option, headed straight home.”

   “I know the risks.”

   “Zebrova disagrees, you know. She just wasn’t willing to call you on it in front of the rest of the crew. You put her on the spot, rather.”

   Looking down at the desk, Marshall replied, “If she’d had an objection…”

   “She did. We all did, except Orlova, and she’s too damn inexperienced to know any better. We’ve had twenty months of you taking one risk or another, and we – you – were lucky each time.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “And now we have the big one. To hell with the seventy million people back there, what about the hundred and forty people you have here. They are your responsibility…”

   “Don’t you think I know that?”

   Her tone softened, and she relaxed in her chair, “I know. And I agree with your reasoning. Orlova would take the ship into a black hole if you asked her. The rest of us are willing to take the bet that you know what you are doing this time. Don’t abuse that trust.”

   “Deadeye…”

   “If this looks as if it is going bad, if it looks as if everything is going wrong, I want you to promise me that you won’t push this too far. Cut and run. Even if it means leaving someone behind.”

   He sat back, nodding, “I give you my word. Damn it, Deadeye, think what could be on that ship. Besides…”

   “What?”

   “I’m tired of just reacting to whatever the Cabal does. We’ve danced to their tune long enough; it’s time to start making them dance to ours. They won’t be expecting this, and it might encourage them to back off for a bit. Buy
us some time.”

   “As I said, I don’t disagree with you. I just...maybe I’m worrying about nothing.”

   “Keep doing it. That’s why I asked you to come out here, remember?”

   She smiled, replying, “I know. See you at the mess later?”

   “I’ll try to get down in a bit.”

   Caine stood up, and walked out of the room; Marshall looked after her, running the decision he had taken in his mind. Dismissing those thoughts, he tapped the communication panel, and the face of the duty officer appeared on a screen.

   “Sir?” Kibaki said.

   “Get me a secure communications link with Major Marshall on the surface. Top priority.”

   “We’re going then, sir,” he said, a wry grin on his face.

   “Have you got this place bugged, Sub-Lieutenant?”

   He shook his head, “With you in command, sir, would we have done anything else? You have your channel.”

   “Thanks, Joe.” He threw a switch, and his father’s voice replied.

   “Well?”

   “I’ve made my decision.”

   “And?”

   “We’re going to get your ship back, Dad. Or at least have a damn good try.”

  Chapter 7

   Cooper looked around the briefing room, stretching out his legs under the chair in front of him. All two-and-a-half squads of Alamo’s Espatier contingent were waiting for the arrival of Ensign Zabek; Sergeant Forrest sat at the front of the room, his stare alone sufficient to keep the noise level low. Knight sat at his right, playing chess on his datapad; Cooper nudged him with his elbow.

   “Any idea how long this is going to go on for? I’m seeing Barbara for dinner.”

   “That shuttle pilot of yours,” he whispered in reply. “This is, what, the fourth time? You’re getting serious about this one.”

   “Well, she’s different.”

   “Funny. I seem to remember you saying that about April, and Samara, and…”

   He raised a hand, “Fine, fine, already.”

   “No, I don’t have any idea. Just because I got here first…”

   Shaking his head, Cooper said, “At least we got here on time.”

   As he spoke, the door slid open. Ensign Zabek walked in, followed by Captain Marshall, and the room rose to attention, salutes snapping as one. Marshall took his place at the lectern, Zabek standing by his side. He tapped a series of controls, and an image of a battlecruiser snapped into view, the name ‘Hercules’ visible on its side.

   A cheer rose up from the room as they realized what Marshall was about to tell them; Cooper couldn’t help it, he joined in. This sort of mission was everything he had joined the Espatiers for in the first place. Marshall waited a moment for the cheers to subside, then gestured for them to quieten down.

   “Be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I see that I have your approval for this operation.” That produced a chuckle, and he continued, “Yes, we’re going for it. Our primary objective is now the recapture of Hercules. We know where it is, we know its condition, we have a plan to get past its defenses. The real job is going to be yours.”

   He tapped another button, and the hull of Hercules seemed to peel off, revealing a network of decks, corridors and walkways beneath. Another button highlighted a series of red entry points, airlocks where the boarding shuttles could latch on.

   “No-one has done an operation like this since the war – the capture of an enemy vessel by boarding. You’ve all studied operations like this, you all know that the casualty rate is generally high. I want this operation to be the exception. It’s got to go by the book, resulting in the minimum possible damage to Hercules. We’re taking her back to the Confederation, and I want her gleaming for her return to Mariner Station.”

   Clicking another button, the image of Hercules winked out, replaced by a slowly rotating asteroid, also with a series of tunnels and corridors, and a hollowed-out space large enough to fit a dozen battlecruisers in. Cooper was sure he had seen it somewhere before, and then he remembered – the spaceport Alamo had found at Jefferson.

   “Our secondary objective is to secure this fueling station. The Cabal have converted asteroids to serve as repair stations and refueling facilities; given that this mission is going to take us beyond the radius of Alamo’s fuel capacity,” he paused for the gasp from some of the troopers, “securing the asteroid is an essential part of our mission. Sergeant Forrest?”

   Marshall gestured to Forrest, who nodded and assumed the Captain’s position at the lectern, tapping another button; now the display showed the interior of the asteroid’s tunnels, a helmet-cam viewpoint of a trooper pushing around the corners, down the shafts.

   “This is where we will ultimately be going. The facility we found at Jefferson had office and habitation levels that resembled the decks of a gravity-less station, but it also had a network of tunnels carved into the rock. They twist and turn unexpectedly, there are few areas for cover, and they are ideal for ambushes. You’ve got to stay focused every second.”

   Zabek took the lectern, looking out across her platoon. “We’ve got just under three weeks to get ready for this mission, and you are going to need every minute of it. Each of you have holographic tours of both Hercules and the asteroid complex we found out at Jefferson on your personal terminals, and you will study both thoroughly. I want you to be able to find your way around both in the dark with your eyes closed.”

   “Sergeant Forrest will lead a series of training drills; we’ve cleared some space in the lower levels for you to practice, and we will undertake simulated boarding actions once we reach Hipparchus 54298, halfway to our destination. There were a few members of the Martian Marine Corps on the planet below; each squad will have one assigned to them as a guide. You will pay attention to what they have to say. Our first battle simulation is at 0600 tomorrow, so Cooper still gets to go on his date with Spaceman Bradley tonight.”

   The room erupted in laughter as Cooper’s face reddened; it took an effort for him to join in, but he managed to force a few embarrassed chuckles.

   Nodding, Marshall returned to the head of the room, “This is the big one. The information we expect to extract from Hercules – if we manage to take it intact – could provide us with the advantage we desperately need against the Cabal. You’ve trained for this type of mission, and now you get to put that training into practice. I know I can count on each and every one of you to do his best.” He looked at Zabek, who nodded, “That’s all. Briefing dismissed.”

   The room rose and saluted as one; Marshall returned the salute, and walked out of the room, followed by Zabek. The troopers were silent for a moment, then the room erupted in a babble of conversation, and this time Forrest allowed them to be as loud as they wanted.

   “I’ll be damned, we’re doing it,” Goldschmidt said, shaking her head. “I didn’t quite believe we’d take the risk.”

   “Come on, Goldie, this is Alamo we’re talking about here,” Knight said. “You’ve heard the stories the last platoon told us.”

   “At least we won’t be trekking through the mud,” Zapolski said, smiling, “We’re going to be fighting in space, like God intended.”

   Cooper was about to reply when he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned to see Sub-Lieutenant Carpenter standing behind him; she didn’t share the euphoria of the rest of the room, her expression locked into a frown.

   “Wha...sorry, ma’am. Can I help you?”

   “You haven’t filed your report on the discovery of the skeleton yet. I need it before we break orbit.” She looked after the departing Marshall, shaking her head. “Tonight, if possible.”

   “Tonight, ma’am?”

   “Is something wrong with that, Private?”

   He sighed, replying, “No, ma’am. I didn’t know it was that urgent.”

   “I’m hoping to convince the Captain to let me stay behind with
a few of you.” She shook her head, “That site is in need of a thorough investigation, and I’m sure Alamo can spare a half squad.”

   Cooper’s eyes widened, and he replied, “May I speak freely, ma’am?”

   “Sure.”

   “Alamo needs twice as many troopers as we’ve got to pull off what the Captain has in mind. He might let you stay behind, but there’s no way he can afford to let any of us stay.”

   “That’s your opinion, Private. I want that report. I don’t mind Alamo going off on this mission – in fact I’m in favor of it, but I’m sure the Captain will allow a small garrison to remain.” She looked around the room, said, “That’s all, Private,” and walked out, half a dozen pairs of eyes following her out of the room.

   “What the hell is her problem?” Knight said,

   Cooper shrugged, “She’s just made the discovery of her career, and she’s having to leave it behind. I can’t blame her for being upset.” He sighed again, “That damn report’s going to take me all night. I was going to do it during the transition.”

   “You don’t think the Ensign – or the Captain – will agree, do you?”

   “Not in a million years. We’ve barely got enough people to pull this off as it is,” Roberts said. “Don’t worry, Gabe, you aren’t going to miss the party.”

   “That wasn’t the party I was worried about missing, Corp.”

   “Want me to take your place, Gabe?” Orlowski said with a cheeky grin.

   “I think I might not take you up on your generous offer,” he replied, heading for the door. “Maybe I can still sneak dinner in.”

   Roberts frowned, “Don’t forget we’ve got the training runs at 0600.”

   “I know, I know, Corp,” he said, running out into the corridor. He passed a couple of technicians chatting in the corridor, running checks on the emergency equipment, and dived into the elevator, looking up to realize that he was sharing the car with the Captain.

   “In a hurry, Private?” he said.