Imprint of War

by Phil Huddleston

  "Mr. Ambassador," she began icily. "First of all, it was Hanover's decision to overthrow their legitimate government and institute a reign of terror. They have killed over 60,000 people in the last four years in the name of "God's Covenant". The Ostracization will remain in effect."

  "Secondly, you do not come into my office and threaten RimFed. If Sierra Nevada wants to withdraw from RimFed, you are more than welcome. However, if you do so, you will no longer be protected by the RDF. If you are attacked by the Bats or any other force, you will not be defended. You will not have access to FTL drives and you will not be permitted to use QE boxes for communication. Those are the rules and we intend to enforce them. Now...if that is what the people of Sierra Nevada wish to do, have at it."

  Johnson sneered, then waved a hand at Carla. "Just as I suspected, your female arrogance will not let you see the handwriting on the wall. This is what comes of letting women have roles in government!"

  "And we are done, Mr. Ambassador. Sergeant Reed will show you out." Ambassador Johnson looked up to see a large Marine guard standing beside his chair, appearing as if by magic. Despite his short stature, Johnson was a heavy, well-muscled man. But the Marine beside him looked more than capable of picking him up and carrying him to the door if necessary.

  With a snort, Johnson rose to his feet. "Remember - you had your chance!" he yelled at her. Waving his hands in disgust, he went out the door.

  ***

  RimFed Prime Minister Sanada Yukimura considered the message from General Secretary Carla Bianchi. He didn't like it at all. He skimmed it to Home Secretary Adele Brodeur, sitting beside him at dinner. Adele perused it on her personal holo, then shook her head.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this, San," she said.

  "As do I," replied Yukimura. "Do you think they'll act?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised."

  "What do you think they might do?"

  Brodeur pulled on her ear, thinking. "Maybe start a terrorist campaign, try to make our life difficult. Blow up some buildings, that kind of stuff. I wouldn't put it past them."

  Yukimura considered. "Where's Jake Hammett right now? I'd like to get him in on this."

  "Unfortunately, he's on his way back from a conference in Aeolis. I think he's due back in a week or so. Do you want me to burst him a quick QE message on this?"

  "No, I think it can wait until he gets back. But do me one favor," said Yukimura. "Talk to Captain Marchand at the Naval Attaché. Give him a copy of Carla’s note. Tell him I said it might be a good idea for him to run through some anti-terrorist drills with his security team."

  ***

  Daryl Johnson settled back in his seat on the transport sloop to Sierra Nevada and opened a book on his tablet. It was a long, three-day journey back to Sierra Nevada and the sloop had somewhat limited recreational facilities, but Daryl didn't mind. He had brought a selection of lurid novels to read, and in his large, expensive cabin two of his wives waited. He thought about the ticking time bomb back in the basement of the building housing his embassy office. It was set to go off at 1930 hours on Sunday, February 19, 2189. Daryl had made sure it was a big one. It would bring down not only the building housing his embassy office, but the buildings next to it as well. That should attract a lot of attention, he thought smugly. Enough to divert everyone's attention to that area. Far from the real attack.

  Arizona

  Arizona – the first RDF battleship built, named after a venerated ocean-going ship of Earth of the 20th century. Laid down in March, 2125 at Liberty Navy Yard, the Arizona completed outfitting in March, 2127 and was commissioned into the RDF in July, 2127 with Captain Marien Howard commanding. Arizona served as the flagship of the RDF for 52 years, until 2179, then was assigned as flagship of the Reserve Fleet at Tolleson Base. In 2186, Arizona underwent a one-year modernization program at the New Athens Navy yard at Mitsikeli.

  - RimWiki, 2675 Edition

  Earth - Paris, France

  14 February 2189

  Rob pushed the sheets away and, pulling his displaced pillow back under his head, looked down the length of the bed. He could see straight out the window - directly in front of him, maybe a half mile away, was the Eiffel Tower. It looked a bit piebald these days, as the French government worked steadily on replacing the old weathered iron and steel components with new plasticized steel. About half the Tower was completed, mostly the bottom part, with a slightly different texture and color than the rest. But still, he thought, it looked beautiful.

  Beside him, he felt a stir. He reached over and tapped Phoebe gently on the forehead. She wiggled her nose but did not open her eyes. Gently, he tapped again. Without opening her eyes, she said in a husky voice, "Do that again and you won't be able to walk for a week, sailor."

  Rob grinned. "We have one last day in Paris, babe. Don't you want to get up and get moving?"

  Phoebe groaned. "I think we did enough moving last night. And don't call me babe."

  Rob persisted. "But that's a term of endearment, babe."

  Phoebe rose up on one elbow. "Not in Aeolian. In our language, it just means 'baby', and I'm not a baby."

  "OK, OK," said Rob. "But at least I got you to move."

  Sitting up, Phoebe’s bead glowed as she accessed the net, her eyes defocused a bit.

  "Crap, Rob! It's only 8 AM! Couldn't you let me sleep a bit longer?" spat Phoebe in Aeolian.

  Rob replied in kind, "C'mon, Phoebe! This is our last day on Earth. Bright and early tomorrow, we have to head back to Kamilaroi. And we have so much to see!"

  Phoebe crashed her body back down into the bed, and in English said, "Rob if you don't let me sleep for another hour I'm going to cut off your...well, I don't remember the word in English, but you won't be able to have children in the future. Got it?"

  Rob got it.

  ***

  Late next evening, the transfer sloop from MarsBase to Kamilaroi cruised quietly, as Rob and Phoebe slept, exhausted but happy, in their compartment in Officer Country. Their transfer at MarsBase had gone smoothly, and now they had a 36-hour journey back to Tolleson Base. Plans for the annual kickoff of Strategy School were well underway. The Strat School Gala was an annual event, on the Sunday before Strat School started. Tolleson Great Hall had been cleaned and decorated. Tables were placed, with one side cleared for dancing. All the timetables and schedules had been checked and double-checked by Rob Walker before his departure and delegated to responsible officers to ensure their completion. All Rob had to do upon his arrival was make final inspection of the venue and check up on any loose ends that might need his attention. And come to grips with the fact that he was in love.

  Tau Ceti - RDF Leeds Naval Base

  The battleship Taizong lifted slowly out of orbit and took a vector for the 36 Ophiuchi system, some 28 light years away. With her screen of two cruisers, two frigates and two destroyers, it was an impressive sight to any intelligence that might have been watching.

  Leading the way, two corvettes stayed ten million kilometers in front of the fleet, acting as a scout. Her destroyers and frigates formed a rear guard, her cruisers running beside her and slightly in front. And in between, two home-built troopships from Hanover and Sierra Nevada carried 600 paramilitary troops - 300 for the assault on RDF Headquarters at Tolleson Base, and 300 for the RimFed coup at New Geneva.

  Meanwhile, far away at Hanover, a signal was received in the QE boxes of the two destroyers there. Suddenly all tDrives, QE boxes, sensors and weapons were disabled. And a few minutes after that, six Hanoverian ships came out from behind the large Hanoverian moon and made a beeline for the crippled RDF warships.

  And as Cobb's fleet made for the mass limit to sink out, the cruiser Strasbourg, packed with Marines and just arriving in the Hanoverian system to perform a rescue of the embattled destroyers, found her QE boxes and tDrives suddenly inoperative, and her sensors and weapons disabled.

  In his day cabin, Cobb sat with a hologram of the 36 Ophiuchi system in front of him. The holographic
captains of his now-rebel fleet were arranged around the table staring at it.

  "OK, one last time. We arrive at Point Bravo above Kamilaroi at 1100 hours on the 19th. From there we have two hours of weapons and equipment checks. At 1300 hours, we split. TF1 goes directly to Tolleson Base. We arrive and start bombardment of the base at 1930. TF2 goes directly to New Geneva. You will arrive and start dropping troops at 1930 as well. Remember - it must be quick; it must be thorough. Don't leave any opposition alive who can hurt us later. I cannot emphasize to you enough - do NOT underestimate your opposition. This is the RDF you're talking about - basically, guys as good as us - or better. So, don't give them any chance at all. Hit them hard, keep hitting them until they're dead."

  Cobb leaned back and folded his hands. "Any questions?"

  19 February 2189

  Kamilaroi - Tolleson Base

  1430 Hours

  Rob walked to and fro across the entrance to the Great Hall in front of the hanging banner, checking the view as if he were a guest just arriving. After several excursions, he stopped in the middle and gestured to his assistant, Lieutenant Mika Matayoshi. "Looks good! I think we got it!"

  Mika nodded and waved to the crew on ladders, giving them a thumbs-up. They waved back and started descending.

  "Well, that should be it," said Rob. "I think we are ready."

  Mika - nicknamed ‘Mike’ - nodded in agreement. "Yep, think so."

  "OK," said Rob. "What's left?"

  "Nothing, really," said Mike.

  At that moment, Rob saw Marine Major Nick Rosser approaching. As he came to a stop in front of Rob, Nick saluted. Rob returned the salute then stuck out his hand. "Hey, Nick!"

  "Hi, Rob," said Nick, shaking his hand. "How was your leave?"

  "Pretty damn awesome," said Rob. "I'll tell you about it sometime. What's up?"

  "You had ordered two dozen men for security tonight, and we’re all here. Will that be enough?"

  Rob nodded. "Sure. I don't expect any trouble. I'll have a couple of extra rifles put in the office, just for backup. That way, we can always get them if we need them."

  "Sounds good," said Nick. "We'll have six men outside for guest arrival, twelve in the Great Hall around the perimeter, and me and the rest will rove. Should be plenty of coverage."

  "Fantastic." Rob turned to Mika. "Mike, will you take care of getting some extra rifles in the office?"

  "Will do," said Mika.

  Rob turned back to Nick. "Let's walk the perimeter and see how things look."

  Nick nodded and they took off for a stroll around the facility. Mika, in her typical efficient manner, sent a message to the Armory. Around them, the last workmen departed, and the Great Hall stood ready for an evening of gala and fun.

  1905 Hours – Battleship RDF Arizona

  "Sir, I've got a strange signal here," said Yeoman Carter.

  Lieutenant Commander Vladimir Victorovitch Volotskoi, half asleep in the command chair, roused a bit and looked at the rating. "What?"

  "I've got signatures of a half-dozen ships coming in on a common vector. They'll end up right behind us as we come around the planet. But nothing in the log for any arrivals like that."

  Vlad yawned. "Not our problem. Kamilaroi Approach can handle it."

  "Well, sir, I know. But...these look like RDF ships. But no IFF on any of them. And they’re at max decel, like a combat approach."

  Vlad waved at Carter with one hand. "Somebody screwed up somewhere. Don't worry about it."

  Suddenly, a ping occurred from the Comm console. There was no rating there, as it was a weekend and the Arizona was in standby mode, so Carter was covering both consoles. He flipped over to the Comm console and read a short message. Looking puzzled, he flipped his fingers to skim the message to Vladimir's personal holo.

  "Look at that, sir...what do you make of it?"

  Vladimir groaned, then raised up slightly and peered at his holo to read the message.

 

  "What bullshit is this?" croaked Vlad. "Somebody is playing a joke!"

  Yeoman Carter looked nervous. In fact, his hands were shaking. "Sir, should we scan them for hot plates?"

  Vladimir shook his head at first, then seemed to make up his mind. His initial negative head shake changed to a nod. "OK, scan for hot plates. But a waste of time."

  Carter switched back to the Tactical Console and moved his hands rapidly. In a dozen seconds, he looked up at Vladimir. His face was white. "They are weapons hot, sir. In fact, their grav plates just came online."

  Vladimir froze, for a couple of seconds. "If this is a drill..." he mumbled. He thought hard. If this was a drill, and he sounded a false alarm.... But if this was not a drill... Then the blue bead on his temple glowed fiercely as Vlad issued orders. The klaxon sounded for battle stations. All consoles on the Bridge came alive. The confused and short-handed crew of the Arizona, stumbling and cursing the idiot who called a drill on a Sunday evening, made their way to their assigned stations. Only a third of the normal crew complement were on board - after all, it was a Sunday night and the Arizona was powered down. Quickly Vlad sent additional orders to the ships Master AI, Buster:

 

 

 

 

 

  Those tasks done, Vlad turned to Carter.

  "Carter, you're on Weapons. Make everything hot as soon as you have enough power."

  Carter gulped and said rather shakily, "Aye, sir." He moved over to the Weapons console just as the Bridge door opened and two additional ratings ran in.

  "Rogers! Tactical!" yelled Vlad. Yeoman Maria Rogers dived for the Tactical console and slid into place.

  "Kawasaki! Comms!"

  "Aye, sir!" yelled Yeoman Yuka Kawasaki.

  Two armed Marines entered the Bridge, closing and sealing the hatch behind them. They were half-dressed in combat armor, carrying the remainder of their kit in their hands along with their rifles. Hastily they completed putting on their armor and took their positions beside the door.

  "How long 'til Mains?" yelled Vlad.

  Rogers queried her console and turned to Vlad. "20 minutes, sir."

  "Crap!" said Vlad. "In 20 minutes, they'll be all over us."

  Yeoman Rogers, somewhat shakily, asked, "Is this a drill, sir?"

  Vlad shook his head. "I don't know, Rogers. If this is a drill, it's the most realistic one I've ever seen."

  "But, sir...we don't have enough crew onboard to operate!"

  Vlad looked at her and smiled. "We will damn sure operate, Rogers, one way or another."

  Rogers nodded, then smiled a bit nervously. "Aye, aye, sir."

  1927 Hours – near Kamilaroi

  Cobb hated the RDF. Of course, that was ironic, since he was a Commodore in the RDF. But he hated them nonetheless. Because they held him back. In his mind, he should have been a full Admiral by now. But because he was NAA, they refused to promote him. They blocked him at every turn. Now he was even assigned as a jailor - a prison guard, to enforce the blockade at Hanover. No more, he thought grimly. The days of the RDF holding me back are over.

  "Captain Schneider, are you ready?" he asked over the tactical ship-to-ship. The reply came quickly.

  "Ready, just open the door," replied Captain Ernst Schneider, commanding the Hanoverian home-built troopship Bismarck, named in homage to a ship of the early 20th century on Earth. The Bismarck would drop the three hundred paramilitary troops on Tolleson Base to storm the Great Hall, and capture or kill all senior RDF officers present. By decapitating the RDF, it should be relatively easy to mop up the remaining staff at Tolleson Base and take over. Cobb would then be the head of the RDF, and woe betide any who stood in
his way.

  Cobb turned in his command chair to the Weapons officer. "Open fire when in range, Marty, and be sure to take out the Arizona first."

  Lt. Commander Martin Eugen nodded. "Aye, sir."

  Cobb turned to the Tactical Officer. "How's it looking?"

  "Good, sir," said Lt. Voss. "Although it looks like the Arizona and a number of other ships are powering up."

  "Well, I didn't expect them to be completely blind to us," said Cobb. "But too late for them, I think. It'll take at least 20 minutes for them to be powered up and ready for a fight."

  Cobb's Navigation Officer, Lt. Foster Arnold, spoke up. "We'll be in position above and behind the Arizona in three minutes, sir. And we can open fire dirtside any time."

  "Very good, Foster. Open fire dirtside now, and on the Arizona as soon as you have targeting. The rest of my screen can take care of the small fry."

  ***

  Rob had gotten the warning message at 1920 hours on his Comm. At first, he thought it was a joke. But he brought up a holo of the Kamilaroi system and saw the ships coming in. They were at high speed and max decel, typical of a combat approach. Their weapons were hot, and their grav deflectors were up. There was no IFF.

  Surrounding him, the gala was in full swing, with hundreds of people having completed their meal and socializing, dancing, drinking, enjoying the party. Across the hall, he saw Phoebe, engaged in conversation with his boss, Ginger. But Ginger had received the same messages he had. She was looking at him across the mass of people, a question in her eyes. Rob looked askance at her, not sure how to react. He saw Phoebe's conversation come to a halt, as Phoebe realized Ginger wasn't paying attention. Phoebe turned and looked at him.

  Rob wrestled with his thoughts for a long moment. This had to be a drill. It just had to be. But another thought kept nagging at him. If you wanted to destroy the RDF senior officer corps, this is how you could do it. He couldn't get that thought out of his mind.

  If he called for an evacuation, and was wrong, his career was probably over. But if he didn't, if this was a real attack, then hundreds could die.