Family Law

by Mackey Chandler

  Tyndale had a thought and sent a query to Harris' board. It wasn't something he wanted to ask out loud. "If the Cincinnati had a core dump," he asked. "does that mean her targeting and weapons software is gone too?"

  "No," Harris replied. "Weapons controls are decentralized on each missile launcher and weapon emplacement. The ship coordinates them for auto-defense, to intercept incoming missiles and maneuver, but if central control is destroyed they can still fire even when the ship is immobile and the drive destroyed or lacking control. The ship could be cut in half and a surviving weapon fired manually if it has power."

  "Thanks," Tyndale typed.

  For this mission two of the second tier seats ran empty, unless the political officer chose to sit in one instead of his usual jump seat on the rear bulkhead. The redundant officers split shifts and ran extra training. They also carried their own and two extra shuttles externally grappled, because their twin hangers held a hundred and forty seven Special Forces troops, on three temporary decks bolted in each hanger.

  "Marked Red Tree territory will come across the horizon in six plus minutes." Tyndale advised. "This side of the mark is a clan neutral area, surrounding the coastal city of Fish Town. The watershed line of the mountains to the south marks one boundary. The northern border is over the horizon."

  "Their main camp is not off to the north is it?" Atkins asked.

  "No sir. The Keep is almost directly along our path and has permanent structures. It's not a camp in the sense of being temporary. We have orbital scan of it from the original exploration survey for comparison. Sir, I'd note that there is no manned traffic at all in orbit. That is unusual given insystem mining and that some merchants avoid staying at station and running up docking fees."

  Atkins gave an amused little snort. "Thank you Mr. Tyndale," he said with a smirk. What the natives did was obviously beneath his attention.

  There you go, thought Harris. He's looking down his nose at you too now.

  The display showed an almost empty ocean sliding past under them, with a thin scattering of high altitude clouds. The coast with a very modest city was approaching. If it was an Earth city he'd estimate a population under fifty thousand. There were a dozen light aircraft flying around the city and a variety of boats, but nothing big, like a bulk carrier you'd see on Earth. There were a few radar active, one at an airport and another was likely meteorological. Nothing was military grade or shifting modes, or locking on to them.

  It still made Tyndale nervous to be so low and slow. At some point you gave up so much advantage by shedding speed or altitude, that you became vulnerable. Right now he felt like if they dropped another ten kilometers, a lucky native might bring them down with a well thrown rock. He'd have preferred at least one fast tangential pass, well above orbital velocity. Apparently Commander Atkins completely discounted any hostility to his ship their automated defense systems couldn't handle. Tyndale hoped he was right.

  A yellow line was drawn across the land coming toward them, destroying any illusion it was a bare unfiltered image. It was well away from the coast into the foothills and defined a vast plateau set above the coastal plain. Frames of various colors and shapes started dotting the view, detailing buildings and emissions anomalies.

  "Give me a zoom on the primary objective there," Atkins ordered.

  The center third of the screen zoomed in on the scattering of dots surrounded by a golden circle. The details multiplied until the computer had to simplify the display to avoid overlapping.

  "It's a damn castle!" one of the engineers exclaimed.

  "And there is a satellite fortress off near the edge of the plateau," Tyndale noted, "but it appears to be abandoned." After he studied the screen a bit he added. "The whole place seems to be abandoned. I only have a couple dozen readings large enough for natives. Those could be animals and quite a few of them are in the woods. The hill is a honeycomb however, natural and manmade tunnels going out and down, well beyond instrument range."

  "Not manmade," Atkins sniffed.

  Oh shit. Harris kept a poker face to his commander's tiff, but he could see trouble coming. This guy has to be Humanist Party. He's going to be an ass about it even if they surrender.

  "Call Major Zapinski to the bridge please," Atkins ordered the com tech.

  * * *

  "What the hell does he want now?" Zapinski rhetorically asked his First Sergeant. "The man could just call me and speak to me on my pad, instead of running me up to the bridge again."

  "If I may volunteer, sir, I'd be happy to finish assembling your weapon while you hobnob with his Nibs."

  Marion looked at the collection of parts spread on a down draft tray and sighed. "OK First. You are one of very few I’d allow to do this for me." He wiped his hands and headed forward, grinding his teeth. His relationship with Captain Atkins was poor and headed south by the hour. Right now all he wanted was off the man's ship. Once he hit dirt if there was any way to avoid coming back into this command he'd take it.

  "Major Zapinski reporting sir," he offered floating with one hand on edge of the bridge hatch. Captain Atkins looked at him like he was something distasteful and didn't invite him in.

  "Major, are you capable of dropping when we make another orbital pass in," he glanced at the screen, "sixty-three minutes?"

  "No sir. We need close to that to dress and load the boats and we need to separate and assume a decent formation and start braking well before we are over the objective again. If we have to brake hard for a short powered descent, we won't have fuel again to attain orbit, even if we count on you maneuvering to pick us up. If I start the ball rolling right now we can drop on the second pass. Even then, you will have passed on and be over the horizon when we land. If you want to be overhead to maintain com and give us weapons support it will have to be four passes from now, to allow us to brake slow and let you lap us."

  "Very well, Major. Load with the intent to drop behind our second pass from now. I've decided to retain a platoon and a shuttle on board, for unseen contingencies, so having to load only three shuttles and platoons should help your schedule considerably."

  "Begging your pardon sir, we seem to have different orders. Could we compare notes on our orders if there is a conflict?"

  "I neither want nor require your help to interpret my orders Major. I am the master of this vessel and if I determine I need to retain personnel I shall do so."

  "I'm sorry you feel that way Captain. You see my orders say "You shall proceed via transport provided by the USNA DSC - St Louis to Derfhome with the Special Space Forces Alpha Company and four Lightning class landing shuttles and secure the territory of the Derf tribe known as Red Tree." It says nothing about subjecting my Company to your command, or splitting my forces. I respectfully submit I would be in violation of my orders, to fail to take all my assigned resources to the objective and utilize them." Zapinski took a deep breath and let it out. "So I must respectfully decline your order, unless you show written orders you are to take command and direct the ground operation."

  "Mr. Galloway, you are my XO, advise me," he said without taking his unfriendly gaze off Zapinski.

  "Sir, we are charged with transporting Alpha Company to this world and making it possible to drop on Red Tree territory. If they do not wish to disembark and conduct their operation, then I'd send a high-speed messenger drone and ask Space Command where they wish us to take them. Other support, or if they might board again, or remain aboard for further transport, was never addressed." That rather avoided addressing the issues either man had raised.

  Captain Atkins considered that briefly. "Alternatively, do you feel capable of assuming command of Able Company, if I remove Major Zapinski?"

  "I could do so, although never having commanded troops in ground operations, I don't consider myself best qualified to command the Company," Galloway hedged. He also doubted he'd escape alive, if he went below and tried to tell the Marines he was their new commander. They might deliver his head back to the Captain in his
helmet.

  When the silence went on for an uncomfortably long time he worried those were to be his orders. He had to forestall that. "If those are your orders sir, I respectfully request you put them, with all the particulars, in writing and I shall carry them out to the best of my ability."

  The other four on the bridge were so still all you could hear was the ventilation sighing. Someone's career had likely ended. At the very least Galloway would never ship out on this vessel again. Atkins processed this statement for so long Zapinski thought he might play back the log and see if he heard it correctly in every particular, but he didn't. Asking for written orders was the same as saying the person giving those orders was grossly in error. If those orders were written, one of the two men would certainly be relieved, possibly both.

  "Very well Mr. Galloway, I shall take your advice and allow that Major Zapinski's experience is sufficient basis to grant his request."

  Marion silently ground his teeth and refrained from saying it had not been a request. Galloway also wisely ignored the fact that wasn't precisely what he'd said.

  "You’d best hurry if you going to make the second orbit Major," Atkins suggested and powered his chair around in what was obviously a dismissal, ignoring the worried looks of the bridge crew. Marion flipped end for end off his grip on the bridge hatch without offering any formalities to the captain’s back. As soon as he was far enough away for his voice not to carry, he started issuing orders through his com pad. When he returned to his tiny cabin the ship’s political officer was standing by his hatch, with that smug look that which portended trouble.

  "We're dropping in two orbits, Olson. I don't have time for chitchat. What do you need?"

  "Captain Atkins has assigned me to accompany you on your drop and act as his observer and generate a record of the operation since the ship will not be in continuous contact." He looked expectant, perhaps he was aware of the conflict on the bridge and expected some resistance to his inclusion.

  "We load in an hour or less. Be at hold two and you can drop with the command group and stay tight with me dirt-side."

  "Uh, do you have any equipment for me?"

  "It's a shirt sleeves environment at this season where we intend to drop. If you intend to record video or still pix bring your own gear. Whatever you need for field gear. I'd suggest you see what the ship has aboard as survival gear. I assume you have a weapons locker if you desire a sidearm? Best you move on it, because I intend to drop with or without you."

  Marion brushed past into his cabin. With a little luck maybe the jerk would miss loading.

  * * *

  "Nice of them to broadcast that standoff warning," Thor, the Derf sitting the primary weapons board noted. "Without radar, getting their exact orbital elements would be much tougher if they weren't radiating themselves. And naming themselves tells us their class and capacity."

  "The St. Louis is smaller than us," the XO commented. "Why didn't they send something as big or bigger, or send a couple auxiliaries to escort it?"

  "Contempt," Gordon surmised. "We are furry non-people and degenerate humans who left the only place worth living. We could never fly this thing much less use it effectively in battle. Underestimate me please," he begged.

  "What are your intentions as far as engaging him?" Thor asked.

  "We will watch to see if he lands a force. That is what we expect. If so we have ground elements who will engage that force. If he does we are free to destroy the ship and as a back up to the ground action, to prevent their retreat."

  "And if they just bombard Red Tree from orbit?"

  "Then we destroy them and send word to Luna via commercial drone. We then proceed to the Solar Oort cloud and pick up the crew of the freighter Fly Over Country waiting there. They have been instructed to take on as much mass as they can find there and add some stealth shielding to the nose of the vessel. If they get a commercial signal from Luna, Fly Over Country will be sent on autopilot to impact Vancouver at about eight hundredths C. The prize crew will wait in their shuttle for pickup. It is a short three person crew and they have extra provisions."

  "You can't get it any faster?"

  "We ran the numbers. Believe me that is sufficient. It is a freighter and it will have burned out all its fuel far out-system so it is just coasting. With a black nose cap that absorbs radar, it will likely be inside the orbit of the moon before they can see it. Light speed weapons may paint it, but if you break it up you have changed the essential vector very little. The damage would probably be worse than just letting it bore on in."

  "Are you going to rename her?"

  "Let's wait and see. If a bomb has a name I'd rather it be their own."

  * * *

  The First was standing beside the hatch, ready to seal it, his alert face displaying a subtly different look that said this was not a drill. Marion was the only item lacking to be drop ready. He checked his heads up and saw they had eight minutes leeway to drop time. That was a good loading, the last after the other three shuttles.

  "Cork it and tell the pilot to drop at will, First." Marion tucked his head and eased carefully through the hatch, turning and backing into one of the two last vacant seats. The political officer was tucked in the third row, very visible because his uniform was different and he looked like a child seated between two troopers bulked out in combat armor and gear. So much for the hope he might fail to make boarding.

  His hands found the restraints on the seat frame by memory and fastened them across knees, waist and chest, while the sounds of the hatch closing and locking rang through the compartment with a solemn finality. His hand found the indented switch and he felt the clamps secure his helmet in a very limited range of motion. He was barely done before he heard the helmet clamps for the First's helmet 'chunk' and his drop orders were given to the pilot on the command circuit.

  After a short toot of the acceleration warning they felt a few gentle tugs and then a long hard burn. There was muted chatter and numbers between the pilots as the other shuttles did likewise and then silence as they went back to no acceleration for a few minutes, before they felt the atmosphere tugging at them. Marion felt that allowing the calm operational chatter to be broadcast helped calm most of the troopers' nerves. Truth was, if something went bad it was likely they'd be dead before they could hear anything about which to worry.

  "If my readouts say I'm snoozing, wake me up a few minutes before we touch down, First. I want to see the overview as we approach and direct the placement of the other shuttles."

  "Certainly, sir," the First Sergeant replied, like it was unremarkable to catch a nap on the down leg of a combat drop. Marion knew that too would bolster the courage of their handful of newbies more than any pep talk. They were likely straining not to piss down their leg. If they heard the 'Old Man' was taking a nap, why should they be worried?

  He did relax, closing his eyes and keep his breathing easy and light, but sleep was not a real possibility. Instead he was thinking about how their drop pattern left them without support from the St. Louis, until it came over the horizon behind them approximately twenty-four minutes after they touched down. He'd have preferred to delay a few hours, shifting orbits so they would come back into contact with the cruiser a few minutes before they hit dirt. Ideally they would assume a higher orbit also, so they loitered over the drop zone a little longer during those critical minutes.

  He had not explored those possibilities, simply because it seemed impossible to have any quiet discussion with the Captain that did not degenerate into a nasty pissing contest. It seemed unlikely they would need orbit bombardment or beam weapon support, but it was nice to know it was available. At least if they had to abort the landing this configuration gave them a quicker rendezvous.

  * * *

  "There it is on the horizon sir," First's voice intruded.

  Marion stretched and made a show of yawning. "Pilot, put us down in the open area in front of the main building. Shuttles two, three and four, choose in that order a
n open area, at least 300 meters away from where our pilot is designating on the drop map. Pick an area that doesn't bunch you up with the previous commander's choice." He watched as glowing numerals appeared on his helmet display. The landing points were all picked in under a minute. That was good, nobody was waffling under stress.

  The shuttle braked hard the last few seconds and then pressed them in the seats harder briefly as it compressed the landing jacks. The rebound was quick and suddenly it was silent.

  "By the numbers boys," First bellowed. The first soldiers were up and staggering at the door before it fell open. The sound of boots on the metal ramp was loud. The first trooper to the bottom threw himself down with his weapon thrust forward. In a less than a minute half of them were in a defensive ring around the craft and every other troopers laid his weapon aside and started digging a shallow fighting position.

  * * *

  "OK, we had four shuttles separated doing a minimum fuel landing. Confirm Red Tree or close to it. They could have separated and the big ship maneuvered, to be in the sky to support them when they touched down, but didn't bother. His tactics are not impressing me."

  "Contempt," Gordon repeated without elaboration.

  "How do you care to engage him sir?"

  "Most ship to ship engagements the aggressor tries to engage the target from dead astern. The drive layout makes mounting adequate sensors difficult and of course if they are underway the drive masks any looking to the rear. From the front is engaging their full sensor suite and automated control systems. But ship to ship fighting so close to a planet? I'm not sure if there are any standard tactics," he told Thor.

  "Do this. Fire a standard nuke at him when he comes back around, so it is cutting through enough atmosphere to be giving the heat-shield a workout as he comes from behind the planet. His systems will probably read it as a planetary system firing up at him. Have it fail fused to detonate as soon as he fires anti-missile missiles at it. Fire one of the fancy laser head missiles so it would arrive about two seconds after the first one would, if it got through. The flash and plasma cloud will cover the incoming hypervelocity missile from his sensors until it is right on top of him. That's my theory anyhow."