Geoff spared a quick glance out the window behind Long. The view out the window as one of utter chaos-the tarmac in front of headquarters swarmed with hundreds of service personnel, many of them drunk and wandering around. Ground crews were cursing and yelling as they started to move some of the planes off of the apron towards hardened underground revetments, dozens of ship-to-shore landing craft were surrounded by shouting crowds, angry because the pilots could not be found. Sergeant Major Ulandi had apparently gone beyond his authorization, and Geoff was amazed at just how powerful an admirals topkick could be. Though he might have to salute first and call new shavetails sir, there was many a captain, and perhaps even an rear admiral or two, who might think twice before disagreeing with him. Geoff was amazed, as well, that a marine corporal had shown up, only minutes before the arrival of the admirals, with fresh uniforms for all three of them, along with razors and shaving soap. Though he still wished passionately for a shower, he knew he was somewhat respectable looking, as long as no one got too close.
"Sir, would you be willing to go to a full alert and scramble the fleet?" Turner asked.
"Look, Winston, there isn't a ship up there with much more than thirty percent of their crews. We scramble now, we'll have to turn right back around and pick up our personnel hours later. That's a lot of engine time loitering around, only to come back and dock again."
"Don't worry, we've got plenty of time, even if your report is true, and besides, I've only had your word so far. I've heard nothing from the CIC. So, let's just take it easy here."
"At least start powering up the engines, sir."
"Mr. Turner, I will not be told by you what to do and what not to do. Even if the Kilrathi popped through the jump point right now, it'd be hours before they reached here, and then what? Our shields are the strongest in the universe."
Sergeant Ulandi appeared in the doorway, the lieutenant who had first encountered Turner beside him. The lieutenant appeared to hesitate, but a look from the sergeant seemed to propel him into the room.
"Ah sir, this dispatch arrived after you left."
The lieutenant approached the desk and handed a silver pouch to the admiral. At the same instant the admiral's pager chimed. Long punched his coded access into the lock on the pouch, which popped open. The pager chimed again and, as he pulled the envelope out of the pouch, he switched his screen on.
Ulandi, who had stepped up to Turner's side nodded towards the lieutenant.
"Damn priority dispatch arrived more than eight hours ago," he whispered. "The lieutenant forget to get it to Nagomo. I just saw it sticking out of a desk drawer."
"Long here," the Admiral said while unfolding the letter.
"Sir, this is Sergeant Williams, over at Signals. Sir, you better see this!"
Before Long could even reply the sergeant switched the screen. A very young and obviously frightened lieutenant appeared.
"This is picket ship Java. Repeat, picket ship Java. A Kilrathi battleship has just come through jump point Alpha. Christ! It's opening up on us. It's…"
The image died, to be replaced by Sergeant Williams, who was obviously scared.
"We got that just under five minutes ago, sir. I just had a high-density burst scan shot out, and getting it back now. Image is rough due to solar activity, but there is definitely a Kilrathi Zulu class battleship at jump point Alpha. Wait a minute, sir, a second ship is coming through now, looks like a carrier, sir."
"Keep me posted!" Long cried.
The admiral stood up and Geoff felt a cold ripple of fear. There was a look of near panic in Long's eyes. He gazed back down at the dispatch from Banbridge, then back over at the lieutenant.
"Damn you, Carter. You've killed us all, you son of a bitch. This was an order to cancel all leaves and prepare to move the fleet. Why the hell didn't you get it to me?"
Carter gaped at him like a fish gasping for water as it flopped around on dry land.
Long started into a bitter stream of invective against the terrified lieutenant.
"Admiral!"
Long, his features flushed, looked over at Turner who had stepped in front of him. Turner was holding Banbridge's orders.
"Sir! Order a full scramble now! Get the fleet out of here, now!"
"It's only a single battleship so far," Nagomo interjected. "It'll be a minimum of four hours before it gets in range. Plenty of time to get a fair part of our crews up. Besides, Orange Five says the fleet stays within the shielding around the base upstairs."
"Its orders, sir," Turner shouted.
"Sir, we've a burst signal coming in from the CIC," the sergeant at the communications center announced, coming back on-line.
"Play it, damn it!" Long shouted.
"To all units, this is a Level Two alert issued by CIC. McAuliffe base, expect a full-scale attack, repeat full-scale attack…"
Geoff stood, horrified, as chaos engulfed the office. He had always imagined that in a moment of crisis a true officer would radiate calm control. Instead, with the voice of Banbridge in the background, Nagomo and Long were shouting at each other. He could see Turner edging forward to jump into the fray in an attempt to bring some order to it. The only one who seemed removed from it all was the sergeant major, who stood calmly by the door, his cigar glowing, arms folded across his chest. The sergeant major saw him looking, nodded slightly, then nodded towards Turner.
Geoff took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then exhaled. Somebody has to stay calm in all of this. If the sergeant major can, Geoff reasoned, so can I, damn it!
He walked up to Turner and touched him on the shoulder. Turner whirled about, as if ready to attack.
"Sir, that sergeant over at the comm center said a carrier had come through," Geoff said, forcing his voice to sound even and under control. "That's against standard doctrine, but it was a scenario you presented to us in class. They're most likely launching fighters and bombers now. They could be here in less than an hour and a half. This could be the Panama war game scenario, sir."
In the background the admirals continued to argue whether the fleet should abandon McAuliffe, Nagomo raging that Long would lose the war if he followed Banbridge's orders, which were issued without knowledge of the tactical situation.
"Sirs," Turner snapped, loud enough to cut through the yelling. "They may be launching fighters and bombers first. If so, you don't have four hours, you've got less than two."
"That's absurd, Turner," Nagomo said dismissively. "We'll tear them to shreds."
The executive officers and several additional staff were now in the room, some of them turning on each other. Geoff found himself wrestling with the fantasy of retrieving the blaster he had left in Ulandi's office coming back in, and shooting the whole lot of them. What had to be done was so simple and obvious… scramble all ships, withdraw from McAuliffe, let the base take the blow if need be, but above all else… save the fleet so it could fight again. On the comm screen the latest sweep showed four ships having emerged, and what looked like a spread of small dots streaming out ahead of them.
Geoff grabbed hold of Turner's arm again and pointed at the screen. "It's the Panama scenario. There's nothing more you can do here, sir. Now, let's go!"
Turner looked at Geoff in surprise, as if, after all their months together, he had really noticed him now for the first time. With an angry curse, Turner headed for the door, motioning for Richards to fall in with him. As soon as they were out of the office, Turner stopped and looked over at Ulandi.
"Come with us, sergeant," Turner snapped, "I need your help."
"Sorry, sir. I'm with the admiral, sir. He'll need me before this is done-" his tone was distant and sad, " — and besides, sir, it's what I signed on for."
"You might have saved something anyhow, Ulandi," Turner said sadly and extended his hand. "God watch over you, sergeant. Next time the drink's on me."
Ulandi took Turner's hand and smiled. "Stay alive, Winston."
Turner broke away and started into a run
down the hall. Geoff caught the eye of the sergeant, who snapped to attention and saluted.
"Now Senator More can kiss your ass, son," the sergeant said with a grin, and then nodded towards the door. "You did good in there, woke old Winnie up. Take care of him, son. Stay alive, you might make a good officer someday."
The sergeant saluted, a gesture that startled Geoff. He snapped off a salute in reply and then broke into a run. As he sprinted down the corridor he looked back and saw the old topkick leaning against the doorjamb, his features obscured in a cloud of cigar smoke.
Bursting out of the main entry, Geoff caught up to Turner.
"We're going up. Maybe Concordia can get under way in time."
Geoff broke into a flat out run, heading for Lazarus, dodging and weaving his way through the swirling confusion of fleet personnel, ground crews, pilots looking for ships, and even some civilians who had tagged along as the military police emptied the town's emporiums. Apparently word that an attack was coming had already hit the crowd, which was quickly degenerating into a mob. As he ducked around a line of Thor bombers, most of them propped up on jacks, their wheel bays empty, he saw half a dozen men gathered around Lazarus, one of them hammering on the access key to the hatch.
"Get away from my ship, damn it!" Geoff roared.
The men turned. One of them, a lieutenant commander who was more than a little drunk, stepped forward.
"If you're going up, boy, I'm ordering you to take me to my ship."
Geoff ignored him as he punched in the code which unlocked the door. He scrambled up the ladder, and looking over his shoulder he saw that a crowd was starting to form, the drunken commander leading them up the ladder. Without hesitating Geoff leaped into the crew compartment, opened a storage hatch and pulled out a light assault gun. He turned and faced the commander.
"Sir, I am ordering you off this ship, right now."
"Like hell you are, ensign."
Geoff chambered a round and snapped the safety off.
"If you don't get the hell off this ship right now, sir, they'll be digging your brains off the wall behind you."
The commander looked at him, wide-eyed, then started to back out of the hatch, cursing at the men behind him to make way. With the hatch cleared, Geoff waved Vance and Winston through the gathering crowd, which was hurling imprecations at him. The two scrambled in and he stepped aside, but kept his weapon trained on the crowd.
Geoff looked at the mob. Some were drunk beyond any hope of recall, some were angry, shouting that they should rush the ship, others were obviously just plain frightened out of their wits. He knew that if he tried to sort them out as to who was best to take along, it would get very ugly, very quickly. He heard the ignitors kicking over on Lazarus' engine.
He pointed first at the lieutenant commander, then at the ten men and women closest to the ladder, making sure he pointed out two that had flight wings on their uniforms.
"You people, in now!"
They eagerly scrambled up the ladder, and as the tenth one cleared the hatch Geoff struggled to block the entry. A burly, overweight petty officer tried to shove his way in.
"Get back, damn it!"
"I'm coming too, damn you," and the crowd behind the petty officer started to roar and surge forward. The ignitor caught and Lazarus' engine flared to life. Several of the mob who were too close to the stern of the ship were knocked over and rolled end over end by the blast.
"You son of a bitch, I'm coming too!"
The petty officer reached out to grab Geoff's weapon. Geoff shifted it slightly and squeezed the trigger, catching the petty officer in the shoulder and knocking him down the ladder. Sickened by what he had just done, he looked at the man squirming on the tarmac below. There was a stunned moment of silence from the mob and, taking advantage of the hesitation on their part, he yanked the ladder in before someone else could grab hold, then slammed the door shut.
The ten whom he had chosen were sprawled out along the narrow access corridor leading from the forward cockpit back down to the stern gun position. Several of them had seen the shooting and looked at Geoff in shock.
The lieutenant commander stepped towards Tolwyn, as if to block his way forward.
"I'm off the Antilles and I'm ordering you to head there first."
"Listen, commander," Geoff said coolly, "Commander Turner is in charge of this vessel and we go where he orders. Do you understand that?"
"I need to get back to my ship right now," the commander started and then fell silent as he found himself staring down the bore of Geoffs gun. The argument settled, Geoff stepped past the lieutenant commander and went forward. Vance was in the left seat, and Turner in the right. As Geoff approached Turner scrambled out of the seat and took the gun.
"I can't fly worth a damn," Turner said. "You take over."
Again there was the faintest of smiles.
"You had to shoot him, there was no other way around it," Turner added, making sure his comment carried to the crowd in the access corridor. He then turned and looked back at them, as if noticing their presence for the first time.
"We're heading to the Concordia. If any of you have a problem with that, get the hell off now."
No one spoke up.
"This is going to be a rough one, people, so lie down and hang on."
Turner settled into the jump seat behind Geoff and strapped in. Vance tapped into the ground control channel, listened to the chaos for several seconds, then switched it off and looked over at Geoff.
"The hell with clearance, Geoff, keep your eyes peeled. I'm going to lift it straight off the taxiway."
Geoff grinned as Vance gunned the ship out of the parking area, weaving adroitly past half a dozen surface-to-space transports that were lumbering towards the strip. Reaching the taxiway, he clicked on the radio, announced his intentions, then pivoted and started to throttle up. Geoff saw a transport, which had just touched down on the main strip, hurriedly turning to clear the strip as a second transport touched down just behind it.
"We'll clear him," Vance announced as he slammed the throttles to the wall. Lazarus kicked to life. Geoff checked their speed, ignoring all the other instruments. If they had a malfunction, that was it. The transport continued on an intersect line.
"Speed?"
"Fifty, sixty, seventy…"
"Wish you'd left those bastards back there behind," Vance snapped. "Too much weight."
Geoff didn't reply. They were fleet personnel and he would be damned if he left somebody behind who could be saved, and could fight.
Vance pulled back early, the nose lifting. Lazarus rose several feet, lumbered in a stall, mushed back down, then lifted again.
"Gears up!"
Geoff slapped the landing gear lever back and spared a quick glance at the gauges. They were hovering at stall speed. If they mushed back down now, it was over and they'd plow straight into the transport that was crossing the taxiway a hundred yards ahead. He didn't look away, and continued to stare at the transport. He felt Vance nudge the stick back further for an instant. They gained a dozen feet, then he pushed the stick forward, dropping the nose as Lazarus shuddered on the edge of a stall. They just cleared the transport… for an instant Geoff could see the wide-eyed copilot looking up at them, his mouth opened as if shouting an obscenity. Lazarus dropped down so that Geoff felt for certain that they'd pancake, but they didn't fall the final few feet to disaster.
"We got ground effect," Vance said casually, "we're okay."
Airspeed started to build and, seconds later, Vance eased the nose back up and they started to climb.
"Boys, that was the hairiest damn takeoff I've ever seen," Turner sighed. Vance looked back over his shoulder.
"Piece of cake, sir."
Vance put them into a forty-five-degree climb, afterburners roaring, devouring the liquid hydrogen in the ship's tanks.
"Remember that crew chief on the Hell Hole said to keep the g's down," Geoff said casually.
"I know, thanks.
But I think we're in a bit of a rush here." Seconds later Geoff could see the stars overhead.
"Sir, we've lost a carrier," Jukaga announced, coming up to stand by Admiral Nargth's side.
Nargth, surprised, looked at Vakkas son.
"I just received the report from our radar operator. The fifth carrier, Kathuga, was scheduled to come through several minutes ago. A spray of debris streamed out of the jump point instead. Part of it was identified as the bow of Kathuga. It must have misaligned on jump, or the jump engine failed to encompass the entire ship in its field due to the high velocity."
"My brothers second son was on that ship," Nargth said quietly. Without another comment he turned away from Jukaga.
Prince Ratha, roaring with a wild, passionate glee, was slammed back in his seat as the ship's catapult slammed him through the magnetic airlock field and out into space. Giving a touch of thruster he surged ahead of the carrier and, once well clear, slammed on full engines, including the extra strap-on units. The unleashed power set his pulse to pounding as he streaked forward, ignoring the calls of his wing support and the other three pilots of his section. The target area was still nothing but a blip on the center of his screen. He didn't even really need to watch that, all he had to do was follow the dozens of winking lights of those who had been launched before him. It still enraged him that his father had ordered him to go with the second squadron, rather than have the honor of being the first fighter to be launched from the first carrier. Yet still, it would be sung that he was part of the first attack on the Confederation, the attack that in one blow shattered their power.
"Concordia, we are coming aboard!"
"Sir, you are not cleared for landing yet."
Winston grabbed a comm mike and snapped it on. "Is Lieutenant Commander Valeri Olson there?"
"I am not authorized, sir, to discuss that."
There was a moment's pause and a different voice came on the air.
"Winston, this is Valeri, you are cleared to land. Now get your ass in here, and I'll meet you on the deck."
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