“Nineteen years,” Curtis said. “For nineteen years you left me rotting in a bar on Titan, while a man I thought was my friend kept me doped up to the eyeballs on suppressants. I presume he was in on this from the start?”
“He was,” she replied. “I didn't realize that he'd talk before he died. And Haggard doesn't know any details, though I did ask her to fake your blood screening. She was under the impression that you were involved in some sort of secret mission for all those years.”
“And when the Purges ended, you left him there in the muck?” Rojek asked, his voice chose to a shout. “You could have brought him into the loop years ago.”
“We were waiting for a better day. Commander, you've proven three times now that you're the only man who can lead this ship to victory against the Federation Fleet. We couldn't risk losing you until we were ready.” She paused, then continued, “When we got the first hints that Polaris might be recoverable, Krieger began to tail down the suppressants, and I put you on a course of stimulants designed to counteract them. You've suffered no physical damage.”
“I've lost two decades of my god-damned life, Major!” Curtis yelled. “I'd call that suffering, wouldn't you?”
“We had to do it,” Cordova replied. “I don't expect you to like it, but...”
“I haven't seen my son in twenty years. My father died, and I never went to his grave. I had a granddaughter that I never got to see while she lived. All my friends and family gave me up for dead, and you were the cause.” He looked down at the deck, gun still clutched in his hand, then said, “What the hell are we fighting for, Major? Could you please tell me, because I seem to have missed some of the details.”
“We're fighting for a better tomorrow. For a universe where we don't have to do what we did to you.”
“Or work with creatures like Keranos,” Saxon replied.
“I'm sure, I'm quite sure, that the leaders of the Revolution, the founders of the Federation, felt just the same way you do, Major. That perhaps they had to do things, unpleasant but necessary things, in order to build the world in which they wanted to live. One step at a time, they walked us into tyranny, and if we're going through all this, if I'm going to have to kill my only son to bring about this future, we're damned well going to do better than they did!”
“Commander, I am sorry. I can't change the past.”
“No, you can't. Maybe it would have been better if you'd left me on Titan. How many other shocks am I in for?” He paused, closed his eyes, and said, “Lopez. My old helmsman. He died of a drug overdose. Was he on the same medication?”
“Yes. A fall-back, in case something happened to you.”
“But something went wrong, didn't it. Did a pill clash, did he take an overdose?”
“There's no suggestion that...”
“You killed him as surely as if you had put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. What gave you the right to make that decision? Or your father as well, for that matter? And how can you expect me to ever trust a word that you say ever again?”
“I suppose I can't,” Cordova replied, quietly. “But...”
“For once we agree.” He turned to Saxon, then asked Cordova, “Where did you get your rank, Major? Who gave it to you?”
After a moment, she said, “I suppose I inherited it from my father.”
A burst of frustrated laughter came from Saxon, who replied, “So the Democratic Underground has a system of hereditary peerage. Just great.”
“Fine,” Curtis said. “You are relieved, Major. Stripped of your command and all responsibilities on this ship. Because you're quite right. I don't trust you. And I can't dare risk putting the lives of my crew in the hands of someone so willing to spend them.”
“You can't...”
“Saxon,” he barked, “In what laughably passes for our command structure, I hereby commission you a Major in the Army of the Resistance, and assign you as the commander of all irregular forces on this ship. You will command the attack on Sinaloa Station, and I expect to see an updated battle plan on my desk in two hours.” Before anyone could reply, he added, “This is not a debate. I'm giving you an order. And I expect it to be obeyed. And as for you, Cordova, get out of my sight. And if you want to stay alive, stay out of it.” He looked across at Grant, and said, “I'll be along for a new physical, Doctor, and this time, you'd better conduct it yourself.”
“Sure,” a stunned Grant replied.
Without another word, Curtis walked out of the room, leaving the shocked group behind them. He stalked along the corridors, grateful for once for the absence of people on his ship. He walked to an open office door, one that once belonged to a Petty Officer, stepped inside, and sealed the lock behind him. He managed to hold himself together just long enough to reach the desk, bury his head in his hands, and start to cry.
“I'm sorry, son,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I'm sorry.”
Chapter 11
Mike walked into the briefing room, Duval, Dietrich, Petrova and Schmidt already waiting inside, Morrison and Guerrero appearing on monitors on either side of the room. At the head of the table, a technician was working the monitor controls, struggling to resolve the images being fed in from Earth and Caledonia, respectively, the faces of Admiral Yoshida and Commodore McGuire fading in and out before finally snapping into clear focus.
“Signal link established, sir,” the technician said.
“Thank you, Simmons. Dismissed.”
“Sir,” Simmons said, snapping to attention and walking out of the room, the hatch locking shut behind him, isolating them from the rest of the ship.
“Commander,” McGuire began, “I think we first must address the issue of your incompetence. Your battle plan was executed exactly as you planned, and Polaris managed to escape undamaged. Two of your ships didn't even engage the enemy.”
“The only incompetence we have to consider is that of Lieutenant Schmidt,” Duval said, leaping to his commander's defense. “She left us blind and helpless in the face of an enemy attack. I'm not even sure why she's at this meeting rather than confined to her quarters.”
“She is here,” McGuire replied, “because I am far from convinced that she is responsible for what happened. I have heard her testimony, and her arguments are extremely convincing.” Schmidt threw Mike a smug look, and he glanced at a red-faced Yoshida, who almost imperceptibly shook his head, blocking his planned protest.
“I believe that we have more important matters to concern ourselves with,” Yoshida said. “Specifically, where we go next.”
“My recommendation is that Commander Curtis be relieved of command of the squadron,” McGuire replied, “said command to be transferred to Commander Guerrero. As next in line, she has presented me a proposal that I feel inclined to support.”
Nodding, Guerrero said, “We need to move first, not cower in the shadows setting ambushes. We have a rough idea of their location, and there are three principle targets. Our ships should move to cover each one, and...”
“Split our forces wide open, leaving us vulnerable to being picked off piecemeal,” Mike replied, shaking his head. “If our sensor systems hadn't been hacked, we'd have got Polaris this time. There was nothing wrong with the basic battle plan.”
“We don't deal in failed theories, Commander,” McGuire said with a sneer.
“Commodore,” Yoshida replied, “I will not permit this squadron to be dispersed throughout the cosmos. It must continue to act as a single, united formation. Only overwhelming force, properly applied, can bring Polaris down. I have already ordered an investigation into the firewall software on board Canopus and the local satellite network, and I am aware that there have already been suggestions of corruption.”
“Sir,” Morrison said, “I must confess my reservations about continuing to serve under Commander Curtis. Naturally, he is reluctant to fight his father...”
“Just what are you implying, Commander,” Mike replied, turning to them. “My ship was the only one to engage the enemy...”
“And you failed to score a single hit.”
“That was Schmidt's fault, not the Commander's,” Duval said, turning to her. “And besides, my fighters were engaged with the enemy as well. You going to call me a traitor?”
“I didn't make any such accusations...”
“Enough!” Yoshida said. “Commander Curtis, what is your plan for the next step?”
“It's quite clear,” Mike replied, “that my father recognized our plan and was able to counter it. More, he was able to turn it around. Now, had our systems been operating correctly, that wouldn't have mattered, but he will have known what he could count on, and would have gone into battle knowing that he had a technological edge we weren't expecting. Next time, that will not be the case. I have already requested that Lieutenant Petrova personally monitor all combat operations. That should ensure that there is no treachery from any quarter.” He turned to Schmidt, and said, “I hope that isn't a problem, Lieutenant.”
The damned smug smile remained, and she replied, “No problem at all, Commander. I have no objection to competent supervision.”
“As for our next step, that depends somewhat on Polaris and her crew, but our goal must be to determine their ultimate objective.” Looking around the room, he added, “We can't simply react to their next attack. We've got to anticipate. Which means we need to work out what they want.” Reaching for a control, he brought up a rotating holoimage of the ship, and continued, “There's more to this than a series of hit and run raids. Their goal is to bring down the Federation. Hitting outposts and freighters hurts us, but does nothing to further their ultimate objective.”
“And what do you suggest that objective might be, Commander?” McGuire asked.
“They're going to take and hold a defensible system. And they're going to launch their attack within the next twenty-four hours.” As murmurs of protest rose, he continued, “They've got no choice. We're going to catch them, sooner or later.”
“Not with you in command,” Schmidt murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear.
“They have no secure base of operations, a skeleton crew. Polaris has only got one chance to start their little revolution, and the longer they wait, the longer the odds against them. Which means they're going to be launching an attack upon an installation right now, and that this attack was designed to throw us off-balance, cause us to question the change of command, hopefully buy time for them to secure their new base of operations.” Looking at McGuire, he added, “We're playing right into their hands, sir, simply by holding this meeting.”
“And where do you think they will attack?” McGuire asked.
“Sinaloa Station.”
“What?”
“It's really quite simple. Saxon has changed sides, giving them all the local knowledge they need. For all we know, she's been with the rebellion all along, has had the opportunity to pave the way for the attack. The defensive perimeter is still under repair, and we haven't heavily garrisoned it.” Looking across at Guerrero, he added, “Our fighter reinforcements were spread out very thinly. There's only a single squadron guarding it.”
“They won't go there again,” Morrison said. “Why double back? Besides, there are far more strategically important systems.”
“And the Political Directorate has no knowledge of widespread resistance activity in that area,” Petrova added, reluctantly. “There are other systems, for example...”
“That's precisely what makes it so attractive,” Mike pressed. “It seems more likely to me that the resistance operations at Sinaloa are simply buried deeper under the surface, rather than being monitored by our security services. Which only reinforces my argument.” He worked controls, and added, “That system is littered with small outposts and asteroids. Hundreds, thousands of places to hide. Everything a single ship would need to hold it. Not to mention a far higher proportion of space-trained civilians than in many other systems on the frontier. Polaris needs crew, and the rebels will be counting on recruiting from the local population.”
“Your intention, Commander?” Yoshida asked.
“To proceed at full speed to the station and establish a defensive perimeter. If we're very lucky, we might beat Polaris to the draw. Though I believe it more likely that we'll arrive to find the attack already underway, in which case Polaris will be too heavily engaged to withdraw. We'll be able to stop her, right there and then.” Looking at Morrison, he added, “And we have surprise on our side. I kept the other two ships back when I realized they couldn't intercept for a reason. My father won't have any idea of the true strength of our formation until it is too late.”
“And if you are wrong,” Morrison replied, “You'll be leaving the frontier open to attack. Not to mention that Sinaloa is close to the border with the Commonwealth, and there's potential for them to catch us in an ambush.” Turning to Yoshida, she continued, “We should wait here, sir, in reserve, then launch an attack when we know where the rebels are planning to strike.”
“If we do that, we're conceding time. Time for them to secure the station,” Curtis said. “To suborn the defense network, repair any damage taken during the attack. If we move now, strike first, then we have a chance of bringing them down with minimal loss. The longer we wait, the worse that battle is going to be.” Turning to Yoshida, he added, “Twice now, sir, Polaris has beaten us. I want it to be third time lucky.”
“Without some sort of concrete evidence,” McGuire replied, “I cannot sanction this operation. Though for the present...”
“When I took this command, Commodore,” Mike said, “it was on the understanding that I would be in charge of the operations of my squadron.”
“Your ships are in my remit, Commander, and….,” McGuire began.
“And you are under my command, Commodore,” Yoshida said.
A light flashed on the desk, and Mike reached for it, saying, “Commander here. Go ahead.”
“Kenyon, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've just had a flash priority signal from Sinaloa Station.” Suddenly all eyes were on Mike, and he couldn't help but release a brief smile of satisfaction. “The freighter Montevideo just entered the system. No advance notice, no warning, and she isn't responding to communications. Director Wise has already launched his fighter squadron with orders to intercept and destroy.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Mike said, looking up at a triumphant Yoshida. “Prepare for immediate warp transition to Sinaloa Station on my order, and pass that course change to the other ships in the squadron. That's all.”
“You're assuming...”
“With good reason,” Yoshida said. “Well, Commander, I suppose you weren't expecting your theory to be proven quite so conclusively, but I think you can consider your mission plan approved. Commodore, I will speak to you on this matter privately later. This meeting is adjourned.” All the viewscreens other than Yoshida's winked out, and the officers in the conference room started to file towards the door. “Mike, please wait a moment.”
As the last of the others left, he said, “Admiral, I...”
“Spare me,” Yoshida said. “I understand that Schmidt has let you down, but she has some powerful supporters back home. This isn't the first time she's made a mistake, but this one is enough to bring her career to an end. Eventually. But you have to understand that you're up in the firing line as well, and I don't need to remind you that as commander, you are responsible for the actions of each and every one of your crew, regardless of their competence.”
“If I'd known she was a problem, sir, I'd have taken precautions sooner.”
Nodding, he said, “Which is one of the reasons I'm still supporting you, Commander, but you're going to have to be careful. I went out on a limb to get you this posting.” He paused, then said, “W
hat happened before was unfortunate. I'm not sure I'd have responded any better under the circumstances, but for all our sakes, you're going to have to make sure that you catch Polaris next time. You have considered, I presume, that Montevideo might be another decoy?”
Shaking his head, Mike replied, “The resistance is far too short on ships for them to throw one away like that, sir. Besides, I think they're trying a double-bluff.” He paused, then added, “The worst case scenario, sir, is that we have a wasted flight, and need to move to another target. In that event, we lose nothing but a little time.”
“And you lose your career,” Yoshida replied. “Possibly your freedom. There are a few people who'd like to see the son of the leading rebel locked up in Triton Station, no matter how glowing his service record.” Leaning forward, he added, “I can give you a little latitude, Commander. Only a little, or I'll go right down with you. I have faith in you to make this work, and so do a few of our mutual friends in the Political Directorate. All of that ends in a heartbeat if Polaris gets away again. Is that understood?”
“Death or glory, sir. I understand.” He paused, then said, “Who ordered the murder of the two rebels?”
“Murder?”
“That's what it was, Admiral. A stupid, pointless act...”
“That has been endorsed by the Parliament. A certain Commodore of our acquaintance had the idea. I'm going to do what I can to keep him out of your way, but the harsh truth, Commander, is that we are not all masters of our own destiny. Even those of us with a star on our shoulder.”
“I see, sir.”
“I hope so. Good hunting. Yoshida out.”
The viewscreen flickered off, and Mike rose to his feet, walking out into the corridor. Dietrich was waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall with a wry smile on his face.
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