Starcruiser Polaris: Nothing Left To Lose

by Richard Tongue

   “Do what you think is right, and do what you can live with,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Kenyon, alter course. I want an intercept on Cygnus, right now. Sam, I want a firing solution right now.”

   “On Cygnus?” the disbelieve Dietrich asked.

   “I cannot sit on this bridge and watch people I am responsible for be massacred, Lieutenant, no matter what the dubious wishes of Commodore McGuire might be. Petrova...”

   “No, sir,” Dietrich said, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at Mike. “By order of Commodore McGuire, I hereby assume command of this ship. Sergeant of the Guard, you will place Commander Curtis under arrest, along with anyone else who chooses to disobey lawful orders. Kenyon, you will...”

   “Like hell,” she replied. “You want to murder a hundred people, you can do it your damned self.” She kicked her chair back from the console, arms crossed, while the Sergeant looked from Mike to Dietrich, his eyes wavering, uncertain.

   “What sort of a fleet do you want to be in, Sergeant?” Mike asked. He looked at Petrova, her hand reaching for her pistol, and said, “I guess all of that talk about changing the system for the better was just another excuse for a power grab, Lieutenant. It's a damned shame.”

   “Sir,” the Sergeant said, sorrow in his eyes. “I can't.”

   “Yes, you can,” Mike said. “You're got a choice to make, right now. Those are your comrades out there, your people. You owe them better than this.” He looked around the bridge, and added, “That could be you out there. Any of you. It might be you tomorrow. Our oaths don't say a damned thing about killing our own.”

   “You have been properly relieved, Commander,” Dietrich said. Petrova raised her pistol to cover the room, abject misery on her face. “You will report to your quarters at once. I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but we cannot permit Polaris to escape. Too many lives are at stake. Sergeant, take him below. That's a direct order.”

   “I'm sorry, sir,” the Sergeant said, stepping forward. “If you'd come with me.”

   Turning back to Dietrich, he said, “I will not yield the deck, Sam. Not to a murderer. Much as I hate to admit it, I guess my father was right after all. While I'm in command of this ship, it will not participate in a second Mareikuna.” A thin smile crossed his face, and he added, “You'd better go ahead and shoot, Sam.”

   “It doesn't have to be this way,” Dietrich replied.

   “It isn't my choice, Sam,” Mike said, softly. “You're the one with his finger on the trigger.”

   Taking a deep breath, Dietrich raised his pistol, and a load report echoed from around the deck. Mike glanced down at his chest, expecting to see a spreading crimson stain, but it was Dietrich who had collapsed to the ground, clutching at his side, while Schmidt held a hitherto concealed pistol on him, looking around the room with fire in her eyes. The Sergeant lay dead on the deck, a bullet wound neatly between his eyes, Petrova holding her pistol to cover the bridge crew.

   “The Commander has the deck,” Schmidt said, turning to Mike. “If anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me.”

   Moving forward to his friend, Mike gently knelt down beside the dying Dietrich, holding his head in his hands, brushing wayward hair out of his fading eyes, tears flooding the corners.

   “I'm sorry, Mike,” Dietrich said, gasping his final breaths. “They've got my sister, my mother, on Triton. The Political Directorate. They threatened to kill them if I didn't inform on you, if I didn't make sure that Polaris was captured. I never wanted it to be like this...”

   “Easy, Sam, easy,” he replied. “There's a medical team on the way. It isn't too late. We'll get you patched up, and...”

   “Liar,” Dietrich said. “I'm almost glad. Glad that there's and end to it all.” Clutching his friend's wrist, he added, “Promise me something, Mike. Beat the bastards. Don't let them win.”

   As his friend's eyes closed for the last time, Mike looked down at him, and softly replied, “I won't. I swear.” He looked up at Petrova, white-faced, standing at the rear of the bridge, pistol still in her hands, and asked, “Are you planning to use that, Lieutenant?”

   “No,” she replied, sliding it into her holster.

   “Then please contact Cygnus, and inform them that if they do not immediately stand down that I will open fire on them. We still have a remote chance of coming through this nightmare without anyone else getting hurt.” He paused, then said, “Schmidt, I'm going to go ahead and guess that you're a lot more competent than you've been acting lately.”

   Settling into Dietrich's vacated station, she replied, “My orders were to slow you down as much as I could, throw a few spanners into the works, make sure that Polaris had a chance to take Sinaloa Station before your squadron could arrive. And may I apologize for my words earlier. I was, well, improvising a little.”

   “Quite effectively, it would appear. Get me a firing solution on Cygnus, right away. I don't think there's much chance that Commander Guerrero is going to surrender without a fight.” He paused, then said, “Have our point-defense batteries open up to defend the escape pods as best you can as soon as we enter range. They're our top priority. And get our rescue shuttles up right away.”

   “On it,” she replied.

   “No signal from Cygnus, sir,” Petrova replied. “I think Dietrich had opened a channel to them. They must have seen everything that was taking place over here.” She paused, and said, “Commander, I didn't get in this to commit treason.”

   “Our oath is to defend the people of the Federation from enemies internal and external, Lieutenant, and right now I think I can see a clear and present threat in evidence. I don't like this any more than you do, but I'm going to do everything I can to ensure the safety of the Arcturus survivors. Kenyon, intercept course on Cygnus, full speed.”

   “Wing Leader to Canopus Actual,” Duval's voice barked. “What the hell is going on over there? I just received orders to launch an attack on Canopus! For God's sake, re...”

   “Duval, this is Commander Curtis,” Mike replied, stabbing at a control. “Cygnus is about to open fire on Arcturus' escape pods, in order to take early shots at Polaris. I have no intention of allowing a single one of those craft to be brought down.” He paused, looked at a smiling Schmidt, her expression unlike anything he had ever seen on her face before, and continued, “Three squadrons to fly defensive and escort the escape pods and shuttles to safety, the rest to launch an attack on Cygnus. All Cygnus squadrons are to immediately stand down and coast.”

   There was a long pause, and Duval said, “You are ordering me to open fire on one of our own ships. Am I hearing you correctly, sir?”

   “You are, Commander. And I don't like it either.”

   Another pause, and finally, the pilot replied, “Will comply, sir. Wing Leader out.”

   “Thirty seconds to contact, sir,” Kenyon said, her hands happily dancing across her control panel. “And thank you, Commander.”

   “For what?”

   “Letting me do something that I can be proud of for once. It's been a while.”

   “I have a firing solution on Cygnus, sir,” Schmidt said. “Main batteries ready to fire at your command.”

   “Any response from Commander Guerrero, Petrova?” Mike asked, hoping for the response he knew he would not receive.

   “I'm sorry, Commander,” she replied. “No reply to our signal. Nothing at all.”

   Cygnus lay just ahead, preparing to fire. Everything had fallen apart so quickly, but for the first time in years, he had no doubts, no hesitation. This was a decision that he could live with, much as he might hate it. This was right. He looked across at Schmidt, took a deep breath, and said, “Then by my order, Lieutenant, you may fire at will.”

  Chapter 22

   Curtis looked at the strategic display, grim determination fixed on his face, primarily for the good of the bridge crew. Kani's fighters had done
what he had thought impossible, slowed down the enemy cruisers to give Polaris a chance to dodge out of the way, and the dramatic detonation of Arcturus at the hands of the defense network had dramatically increased the odds in their favor. The fighter swarm, though, still dived towards them, and Cygnus was turning its weapons on Polaris, her armament still more than a match for his, seemingly unconcerned about the lives of their own comrades, destined to be blotted from existence during the first seconds of their barrage.

   “Course change from Canopus, sir,” Strickland reported from her sensor station. She looked up at her display, frowning at the readouts as though unable to believe what her eyes were telling her, then turned to face Curtis with a triumphant smile on her face. “They're on an intercept course for Cygnus, Commander! Seeking a firing solution on the enemy ship! They've changed sides!”

   “I'll be damned,” Rojek replied, shaking his head. He looked across at the readouts, frowned, then said, “I can see why. Look at Cygnus, Commander. They're altering course, preparing to fire. Right through Arcturus' escape pods.”

   Rising to his feet, Curtis said, “They're going to kill hundreds of their own people to bring us down.” Turning to Rojek, he asked, “Canopus. How long before they're able to protect the escape pods with their point-defense turrets?”

   “Not soon enough,” Strickland said, starkly, her cheer dispelled by the horror unfolding on the screen ahead of them. Curtis looked up at the monitors, quickly absorbing the changed tactical situation. Visions of Mareikuna. flashed into his head, the nightmare that had broken him twenty years ago. He'd been a second too late to save the doomed passengers that day. Never again.

   “Roxy,” he said, turning to the helm, “Cut acceleration. I want you to match course and speed with the heart of Arcturus' survival craft. A precision maneuver to allow us to protect them with our point-defense systems. Felix, send a signal to those escape pods, tell them that they are under the protection of the Free Starcruiser Polaris, and that they should alter their transponder frequencies to match ours. I don't want a single casualty from collateral damage.”

   “If we do that,” Rojek replied, “We'll be making ourselves an easy target for Cygnus primary weapons. Canopus won't get there in time to defend us. Assuming this isn't some sort of trap to lure us in.”

   “My son wouldn't do that,” Curtis replied.

   “If he's still calling the shots.”

   Taking a deep breath, Curtis said, “I will not sit back and watch while people die, Lieutenant, even people who were shooting at us a few moments ago. We're going in, and we're going to save those lives. Have our rescue craft prepare to bring them in, and inform Doctor Grant to expect multiple casualties.”

   “Will do, sir,” Rojek said, turning back to his panel. “Don't think I don't agree with you. I just had to make sure you considered all the alternatives.”

   “I know,” he said. “Let me know when you get a safe firing solution on Cygnus. In fact, don't, just fire as soon as you get a clean shot. Blow those bastards all the way to hell.” Looking back at the display again, he asked, “What's happening with the fighters?”

   “Chaos and confusion,” Strickland reported. “Arcturus' squadrons are moving forward to protect their people, Canopus' formation looks as though it's setting up for an attack on Cygnus, and Cygnus' birds are moving to protect their ship.” Grimacing, she added, “There are already half-a-dozen dogfights going on out there, Commander. I can't tell who the good guys are.”

   “Philosophy later,” Curtis replied with a smile. “Find the Wing Leader and put him on as soon as you can. We need to try and coordinate some sort of attack if we're going to pull this off. How long for Canopus, Felix?”

   “Four minutes minus, sir. Two minutes after Cygnus enters firing range.”

   “I have Commander Duval for you, sir,” Sokolov said from the communications console. “Audio only, sir.”

   “Put him on.” Tapping a control, he continued, “This is Commander Curtis. I think the enemy of our enemy is our friend today, Commander, and I rather hope you agree.”

   “My Commander Curtis certainly does,” Duval replied. “We're trying to pull something together, sir. About half of my pilots aren't following my orders right now. Where do you want us?”

   “Two squadrons to attack Cygnus on the flank to try and draw them off, two squadrons to defend Polaris and the escape pods, and anything else you've got to hold back the rest of the fighters.” He paused, then added, “I know this isn't coming easy for you, Commander. If any of your pilots want to sit this one out, I'll understand. They can either try for a landing on Coronado or make one hot burn to clear orbital space. I'll make sure our people don't shoot them down.”

   “Not a chance, Commander. We came here for a fight, and we're going to get one. We'll be launching our attack at about the same time as yours. Good hunting, sir.”

   “And to you.” Turning to Rojek as the channel clicked off, he said, “That felt good.”

   “Yeah, I know what you mean,” his friend replied. “Nice to have someone out here who doesn't want to shoot us down.” He threw a control, and said, “I think I've got all the escape pod transponders corrected. We've got shuttles coming in on all bays, wounded from Arcturus.” Turning from his chair, he added, “There's nobody on the deck to meet them, sir. Just Haggard and a couple of paramedics. If this is some sort of a trap, we've walked right into it.”

   “Given the bait, Lieutenant, I don't think we had any other choice.”

   “I guess not.”

   Curtis returned to his chair, settling down to watch the chaos unfolding all around him, patterns beginning to emerge that favored Polaris. The fighters were beginning to coalesce into new formations, five distinct groups appearing to cover different angles. The two largest had to be under Duval's command, one setting up for a by-the-book attack run on the crippled Cygnus, the other heading for Polaris at maximum acceleration, struggling to catch up in order to assist the defense of their people.

   The rest were scattered, one hovering close to Cygnus, moving to counter the approaching attack formation, and the others setting up for attacks on Polaris and Canopus respectively. Any thoughts he had of a possible trap were rapidly being dispelled, the sheer magnitude of the deception required far beyond anything any sane commander would employ. Less than ten minutes ago, the Federation formation had the battle won. Seizing the defense perimeter had made the difference, as had the sacrifice of Nguyen to destroy Arcturus.

   “One minute to contact, sir,” Rojek reported, as the elevator doors slid open, disgorging a group of unfamiliar crewmen wearing Fleet uniform, the sleeve flash of Arcturus displayed on their arms. Two of them were wounded, one with her arm in a sling, another with a blood-strewn bandage wrapped around his forehead. It was the woman with the sling who spoke first, saluting with her good arm.

   “Lieutenant Hudson, sir. Formerly Executive Officer on Arcturus. I think I'm the senior survivor.” Gesturing at the group of people, she added, “Survivors from Arcturus' bridge, Commander. I thought you might be able to use some help.”

   “With pleasure, Lieutenant. Take Operations, and put your people where they can work best.” He paused, then said, “We're going to keep the rest of the survivors safe, Lieutenant. You have my word on that.”

   “Thank you, Commander,” she replied, moving to the sensor suite, gesturing for her crewmen to fill the vacant positions on the bridge. Rojek gratefully slid across to concentrate on the primary weapons, leaving the new arrivals to take over defense systems and electronic warfare. He turned with a smile, looking at Curtis.

   “I'm not sure what I'm going to do with all this free time, skipper.”

   “Get me that firing solution on Cygnus,” he replied.

   “Enemy ship opening fire!” Strickland said.

   “Point-defense systems returning shot,” one of the new arrivals replied. “We're holding our own f
or the moment. They're trying to punch a hole through our formation.” He looked down, throwing switches, and said, “That won't last for long, though, Commander. Our reload time is way, way down.”

   “We're running automatic on most of our defense systems,” Curtis replied.

   Reaching for a control, Hudson said, “I've got people coming into the hangar deck now, sir. Request permission to...”

   “Granted,” Curtis replied, without waiting for her to complete her sentence. His eyes remained fixed on the tactical display, watching the familiar view of kinetic projectiles raining in from Cygnus, blocked by Polaris' particle cannons, the barrage getting closer and closer as they began to lose ground, their slow response time allowing the rocks to complete more of their trajectory as they pounded through the point-defense system.

   Kani's flight had damaged Cygnus, but only the rear section, the engines. They were trapped in orbit, and Curtis knew that Polaris could easily evade the crippled ship, gain speed and altitude and pass into the safety of the defense network, but that would mean abandoning the survivors from Arcturus to their fate. He glanced across at Hudson, working her console one-handed, barking orders into a microphone, and shook his head. They were his responsibility now, and he wasn't going to let them down.

   “Here come the fighters!” Sokolov said, twenty-two interceptors swooping into position, firing their particle beams wildly to carve a path through the eternal onslaught of Cygnus' mass driver cannons, allowing the point-defense system an urgently needed respite to catch up, push back the barrage a little. The escape pods were beginning to move away, dropping out of orbit to the safety of the planet below. Polaris was the enemy target. That much was clear.