by Jay Allan
Hopefully, before long it wouldn’t matter. If Ferrell really became a problem, she had Ricard Lille now. She was wise enough to realize that the deadly assassin wasn’t under her command…but she suspected Villieneuve had instructed him to help her any way he could. She’d already requested his aid on one matter…and if Ferrell made an impediment of himself…well, she suspected Lille might be amused by adding a Confederation Senator to his list of…achievements.
* * *
“Your transport is ready, sir.” The officer stood at attention in front of Striker’s desk, clearly trying not to notice the fact that two grim-looking Marine officers were sitting opposite the admiral.
“Very well, Lieutenant. I’ll be down shortly.” His tone was friendly, but it also carried an unspoken, ‘that is all.’
“Yes, sir.” The officer turned and walked about out of the office, the doors sliding shut right behind him.
“Gary’s sections chiefs are notoriously difficult to locate. He, of course, always knows where to find them, but it is not easy for anyone else to march into Confederation Intelligence headquarters and ask for one of them.” Striker paused for a moment. “I believe I may be able to convince one of his aides to assist me, however. Something is clearly going on, something of grave concern, and the fact that Gary’s people don’t appear to be aware of it is even more disturbing. I dare not rely on any communications lines…I believe it’s wiser to simply go there and see what I can discover.”
Striker didn’t let himself consider the even more dire prospect that Holsten’s subordinates did know he was a captive of the Senate, that they were involved in some kind of power play or treachery. He might have believed that if he hadn’t known just how carefully Holsten picked his closest aides.
“Perhaps we should come with you, Admiral. As you said, something is certainly going on. Perhaps we should exert additional caution.” There was concern in Peterson’s voice, and it had been growing throughout the hour since the three had begun their meeting. That wasn’t a surprise. More or less everything they had discussed had only increased Striker’s concern level, and he doubted it was any different for Peterson.
Despite his own level of concern, Striker almost discounted the colonel’s remarks out of hand. But something stopped him. He was worried, at least on some level, and the fact that he felt any concern about moving around in the middle of the capital told him just how edgy he’d become. He’d been wondering why he hadn’t heard from Holsten for quite some time, but he hadn’t been really concerned until Peterson and Bellingham came to him with the story about how the Senatorial Lictors had arrested the intelligence chief and brought him back to Megara. Combined with the fact that he’d heard nothing at all of Holsten’s presence in the capital, or the details of the proceedings that had clearly been underway for weeks now, he was convinced something very dangerous was going on.
“No, Colonel. I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have enough trouble getting to Gary’s people alone. If all three of us show up, I’m sure we won’t get anywhere. I’m just taking a quick ride across town, and then I’ll be back. But you’re right…we do need to start thinking about security. If Gary could get scooped up without word getting out about it, we all need to be cautious.” He paused a moment, and then added, “In fact, perhaps the two of you should stay here until I get back. I don’t know if anyone has connected you to Gary, but I don’t think we should be taking any chances now. When I get back, we can start to put together a system for keeping track of key personnel…and triggering an alert if anyone else disappears.”
Peterson looked uncomfortable, but finally he said, “Of course we’ll wait for you, sir, but…I’d feel much better if we rode to Confederation Intelligence with you. We can stay in the transport when you go in.”
Striker hesitated for a few seconds, but then he answered, “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got my driver and guards.” He stood up. “I think it’d be better if you stayed here, maybe put together a plan to get word to your Marines. We may need them after all.”
Chapter Ten
CFS Repulse
Unknown System 20
Year 316 AC
The light above Stockton’s eyes was dim, hazy. He was groggy, his consciousness fading in and out. He wasn’t sure where he was, at first, but then his memory began to return. He was landing his fighter…no, he wasn’t in the ship anymore. He was lying on a bed or cot somewhere.
Sickbay?
Did I land already?
“Jake…” The voice was soft, comforting…but he could hear the concern in it as well.
“Stara?” He spoke her name, or at least he tried. His throat was sore and parched, and he wasn’t sure how audible it was.
“Yes, Jake, it’s Stara.” She leaned down, moving closer to his face. “You did it. You got your ship back and landed it.”
His memory was still fuzzy, but the scenes inside the cockpit continued to come back…and the final moments as he brought his fighter down into the bay.
“I crashed.”
“It wasn’t the cleanest landing…but you’re going to be fine, and there was no damage to the bay. Considering the circumstances, it was a very successful landing.”
“The squadrons…we’ve got to get them ready to launch again. I’ve got to get back out.” He pulled himself up, rising about halfway before vertigo overtook him and he fell back onto the bed.
“You need some rest before you can launch again. The fleet is about to transit, and the enemy is far enough behind to allow us to go through with the fighters in the bays.” Stara paused. “Olya Federov has taken charge of the squadrons until you return to duty.”
Stockton shook his head, stopping again as the dizziness worsened. “I have to take command…I have to be ready once the fleet is through the transit point.”
“Jake, you can’t even stand. If you insist on being an obstinate ass, you’re going to be in here for a week. If you cooperate, and get some rest…and let the doctor clean out the residue from the overdoes of stims choking your system, you’ll be back on duty in two days.”
Stockton was about to argue again, but it was pointless. He couldn’t stand just then, much less fly a fighter. As natural as it was for him to argue and insist he could do anything, he knew Stara and the doctor were right.
Perhaps harder for him to accept was the fact that Federov could fill in for him for two days, that she could lead the squadrons without him…if, perhaps, he told himself, a bit less than skillfully he might.
“I want to see her. Lynx. Before she leads the next wave.” It was vanity, perhaps, to believe Federov needed some kind of pep talk from him, but it was one he needed now. Stockton had led his squadrons in many desperate battles, and he’d lost more pilots than he cared to think about, but there was something different this time. This was no battle against invading Union forces, not even a desperate struggle fighting alongside Alliance wings deep in civil war. The fleet was lost in the depths of space, and the only way home was back through a force that vastly overpowered it. His squadrons weren’t fighting in combined fleet engagements as one weapon of several as they had for so many years. They were throwing themselves at the enemy alone, struggling to turn the one advantage the Confederation forces had into a chance to prolong the desperate, and ultimately hopeless, flight. He’d never had an easy time sending his pilots to fight without him, but it cut at him more deeply this time, made it nearly unbearable to remain on Repulse lying in a bed while he had ships out in space.
“Okay…” Stara shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “You can obsess over the squadrons, bore Olya to death with a lot of warnings and tactical advice she already knows…as long as I have your word you’ll follow the doctor’s orders to the letter.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it, Jake. Your word.”
He sighed hard. “You have it. Now, send Lynx down here so I can talk to her…just in case we have an alert before you expect one.”
Stara
smiled, and a voice called out from just outside the small alcove. “I’m here, Captain.” Federov stepped out and walked up next to the bed. She was tall and slender, her long hair tied back behind her head in a haphazard ponytail. Federov had always had a youthful look, one she retained despite all she’d been through. But as Stockton gazed up at her, he could see the years of combat and loss in her eyes. “Stara sent for me. She said you’d want to see me…and I’d been thinking just the same thing when she called.” She paused and smiled. “And, before you ask, half the ships are refueled and rearmed, and the others are in the shops right now. I’m afraid more than a few needed considerable repairs after the extended missions.”
She stood next to the bed, looking down at him, the smile still on her face. “So, what did you want to tell me that you think I haven’t learned flying with you for eight years?”
* * *
“Commodore…I’m sorry to disturb you.” The officer leaned through the door, peering nervously in Eaton’s direction.
“Come in, Lieutenant…come in.” She’d been in her office, mostly working, though earlier she’d dozed off for a bit as well. Stockton’s constant sorties had seriously disordered the enemy fleet, at least that was the only explanation she had for the lack of immediate pursuit. The fleet had been through the transit point for nearly eighteen hours, with no sign of any enemy ships following. She’d expected them six hours before, at the latest.
She appreciated the opportunity to give her crews a little rest, especially her exhausted fighter wings, but she hadn’t included herself in that. Not until she’d fallen asleep at her desk, right in the middle of reading a series of status reports.
“What is it, Ivan?” Ivan Fensker was just about the last member of Repulse’s crew she’d expected to see outside her door. The ship’s chief astrogator, she hadn’t expected him to have anything material to tell her about the unknown systems the fleet was passing through, except, perhaps, the almost useless data of their positions in actual space.
“Well, Commodore…I’m not one hundred percent sure about this, but I felt it was likely enough that I had to bring it to your attention.” The officer paused, looking nervous.
“Ivan, please…you know I respect your ability. If you have something to tell me, out with it.” She was tired, and her head ached. She didn’t have the patience for foolish games.
Not that Fensker was a game player. In all her time on Repulse, and before that on Intrepid, the introverted officer had mostly kept to his laboratories, managing science and research operations.
“Well, Commodore…it’s about this system. As you know, we haven’t yet discovered any transit points beyond the one from which we entered.”
“That’s true, Ivan, but we’re still scanning. You know it takes time to properly survey a system.” Eaton had been worried about the same thing. Not panicked yet, though the thought had crossed her mind of the fleet’s dire predicament if this system turned out to be some sort of dead end.
If the only way out was back the way they had come…right into the maw of the massive Hegemony fleet…
“Yes, of course, Commodore. But…well, when our initial scans showed no signs of other transit points, I took a look at the local astrogation, and…” He paused again. “…this star is part of a binary system, and its twin is close, at least by interplanetary distances…just over one-twentieth of a lightyear.”
Eaton stared at the scientist, uncertain for a moment where he was going. Then, realization dawned. “Are you saying you believe the other transit points are orbiting the partner-star? That they’re five percent of a lightyear from here?”
“Yes, Commodore. I’m saying that is a significant possibility.”
Eaton leaned back in her chair, and a small sigh escaped her lips. She could bring her ships up to a considerable velocity if they were going to travel in a straight line, twenty percent or more of lightspeed, but it would still take three months to reach the other star.
Accelerating to that velocity and then decelerating would burn most of the fuel the fleet had left. She’d managed to resupply her ships from the tankers and freighters the fleet had brought with it for its extended mission, but she hadn’t had time to stop anywhere with a suitable gas giant to mine for emergency fuel supplies. She hadn’t had time to stop for anything, not with the Hegemony fleet on her tail.
“So, Ivan…you’re saying I have to decide whether to stay here and hope to find a transit point in this local system…or I have to gamble on finding something closer in to that other star, burning most of our fuel to do it.” She hesitated and looked up at Fensker. “You know, if we get there and find nothing, we won’t have enough fuel left to get back here.” Another pause. “We’ll be stuck there…unless we can find a place to harvest fuel.” And the enemy leaves us alone long enough to do it…
“Yes, Commodore, I know.” A pause. “I felt you needed to have all the information to make your decision. I can’t tell you unequivocally that there isn’t a second transit point orbiting this star, however the AI currently projects less than a ten percent likelihood, based on comparison to point layouts in known systems.” He was silent for a moment, and then he added, “I will also note that, with pre-Cataclysm anti-matter powered drives, the distance between these stars would not be prohibitive. Depending on the cost of constructing the transit points—and that’s something we can barely guess at—it might have been a simple choice to just accept the somewhat larger normal space distance in this binary system.”
“Yes, it might have. That certainly makes sense. Or, perhaps the companion system is a dead end.”
“We are likely at a dead end here, Commodore. What other choices do we really have?”
Eaton nodded slightly. “Thank you, Ivan. I will consider all factors and make my decision.”
“Yes, Commodore.” He stood up and turned to leave. Then, he paused and looked back. “Commodore, whatever you decide, time is not an ally right now.”
Eaton felt a flash of anger at the officer pushing her, but it only lasted a few seconds…and it was replaced by a sort of grim amusement. “Yes, Ivan…I’m well aware of that. But since a bad decision here could kill us all, I think I can take a few minutes to review all data, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, Commodore.” The officer seemed flustered, and he turned and walked quickly toward the door.”
“And Ivan?”
Fensker stopped abruptly, just inside the door.
“Commodore?” He turned, and his voice was sheepish. He clearly felt he’d pushed too hard.
“Thank you. Your research, along with your prompt reporting of your findings to me, has been invaluable. Never hesitate in coming to me with anything.”
“Yes, Commodore. Thank you.” The officer slipped through the door, leaving Eaton alone with her thoughts.
Just make a decision, Sara…don’t let the fact that a wrong choice will kill everyone hold you up…
She shook her head.
Any decision will probably kill us. It’s a false assumption that there is a right choice, that any way out exists.
If she stayed, and they didn’t find a transit point, the enemy would catch the fleet. Her people would fight fiercely, she knew, and they would extract a price. But, in the end, they would all die.
If she made a run for the inner system—assuming her ships proved up to the strenuous journey, and also that the enemy didn’t just run her fleet down during the extended period of straight-line acceleration—she could get there to find nothing. Her people could be cornered, and even if the enemy didn’t pursue them, they could still be trapped without enough fuel to get back.
Acceleration to the next star would also mean that some of her ships would fall behind, unable to keep up with the others. She would have to abandon them, leave their crews behind to catch up as well as they could…or to be overtaken by the pursuing enemy. She’d had to make those sorts of decisions before, but that didn’t make any of it easier.
S
he wished for a moment that Tyler Barron was there, that the weight of this decision was on his shoulders and not hers. It was easier sometimes, simply to obey orders. She was ashamed that she wanted to push her duties off on her friend, but she couldn’t escape the fact that part of her, at least, wanted just that.
She sat for a time, perhaps twenty minutes, but the situation became no clearer. In the end, she knew, she had to go with her gut, make a choice.
And hope for the best.
She reached down and flipped on the comm unit.
“Yes, Commodore?” Her sister’s voice came through the small desk speaker.
“Commander…issue a fleet order. All ships are to set a course for the companion star. And I want emergency diagnostic routines in place immediately. We’ll be engaging in a protracted period of maximum thrust, so if there are any engineering problems out there, I want them found now.”
“Yes, Commodore.”
Sara tapped the comm unit, closing the line.
She stared at the small screen on her desk, at the bright dot that represented the fleet’s destination. And its hope to survive…a little longer.
Chapter Eleven
Confederation Federal Building
Port Royal City, Planet Dannith, Ventica III
Year 316 AC
“I’m leaving a small team of Marines here, Administrator. They’re all veterans, and they will be invaluable in preparing your people to defend Dannith, if things come to that.” Barron hated leaving his people behind, especially since, if it came to fighting on the ground, that meant the enemy fleet had already crushed the planet’s not inconsiderable orbital defenses. He figured it would take a dozen frontline Confederation battleships to mount a credible assault on Dannith’s defensive grid, though he wondered what the Hegemony railguns would do to static defenses. Nevertheless, whatever force was required to break through the planetary defenses would almost certainly possess considerable ground assault capabilities as well. He wasn’t entirely sure what a few Marine advisors would be able to do about that…but he just couldn’t leave Dannith’s millions of inhabitants without doing something to help them defend themselves.