by Jay Allan
“Yes, sir.” Teller started barking orders in the hallway, and in a few seconds he had everyone lined up, ready to go. Cain walked down the corridor with the admiral. At first, he was helping Garret, but then the admiral pulled away. “I’m OK, Cain. I can walk myself.”
Erik just nodded to the general. “OK, people, we’re going to fight our way right back to that stairwell and down the way we came. No stopping. No matter what. However bad it is, it’s only going to get worse if we wait.” He paused for an instant. “Let’s go!”
They spun around the corner, firing full and charging down the corridor. They took the guards by surprise, and they were halfway down the hall before the fire got really heavy. Cain noticed the blood on his arm before he felt the pain. He’d taken a shot just below the left shoulder, but he ignored it and kept firing as he ran forward. He rounded the corner along with the first two of his troopers, and they sprayed the entire area with fire. The guards broke and ran, but the Marines gunned them down as they fled.
They had a respite now, with all their enemies down. Cain did a quick assessment. Besides himself, they had two wounded. Both could keep moving, though Johnson had taken a hit in the thigh and needed a little help. They encountered sporadic resistance along the rest of the way, and they suffered their first fatality just before they reached the stairwell. It was just a single guard, but his first shot hit Carver in the head. The entire crew opened up, riddling the shooter, but the damage was done.
Cain leaned against the wall, motioning for the team to go through the door to the stairs. His shoulder was really throbbing now, and his sleeve was soaked with blood. He watched the last of his team duck through the door, but he hesitated. Simms and Hanson had stayed behind to hold the rear as they made their way to the stairs. “C’mon guys.” Erik was muttering under his breath, trying to will the two Marines to come around the corner. He waited as long as he dared, longer even, but there was nothing. Finally, he sighed and slipped through the door, running down the stairs to catch up with the group. He’d see Simms and Hanson again; they would join the legion of ghosts that visited him at night.
They made it back the way they had come and out into the tunnels. That was easier than I expected, Cain thought. Alliance Intelligence was so used to everyone being terrified of them, their internal security had become sloppy. It wasn’t designed to counter the threat posed by a strike team of hardcore Marine veterans. That was a scenario Alliance Intelligence had never imagined.
They ran through the tunnels, trying to find their way closer to the Martian embassy. They didn’t have a guide now, so they put some distance behind them and found a good place to hide, a large chamber located near an access point to the surface. Cain had been planning to slip out into the city and scout where they were, but his blood-drenched arm would hardly pass unnoticed on the street, so Teller went instead.
They settled in, tending to their wounds and waiting for Teller to return. Cain tied his torn sleeve around his wound and sat down next to Garret. The ground was cold and damp, ancient concrete, now cracked and splintered.
“I don’t know how to thank you and your Marines, general.” Garret had been shocked when Cain burst into his cell, but his own combat reflexes took over immediately. Now the adrenalin drained away just a bit, and his mind caught up on processing what had happened.
Cain turned his head and returned Garret’s gaze. “Our pleasure, admiral.” He managed a short smile. “Though we’re not out yet, so I’d hold that thought for now.”
Garret returned the partial grin. “I’ll risk it now. I’d rather be here with a chance than locked in that Godforsaken cell. So thank you.” After a pause: “My mind has been racing about what is going on out there. Stark would never have dared this stunt if it wasn’t really important.”
Cain’s smile faded. “There is a lot going on, alright, sir. I’m not even sure where to start.” He stared at Garret earnestly. “And you’re probably going to have some difficult decisions to make once we get you out of here.”
They spoke for hours, Erik trying to give Garret a synopsis of what had transpired in the time he’d been held captive. It was a lot, and Cain tried to be complete, though he really didn’t know the status of things on the rebelling planets. He’d chosen his side in the conflict, but he tried not to let his prejudices affect his description.
Garret’s expression was grim. “I should never have taken this appointment. I’ve been a damned fool.” Cain was listening, but he got the impression Garret was talking to himself as much as anyone else. “But you can bet you ass I’m going to fix that when we get out of here.” He paused, staring straight ahead at the wall. “You can count on that.”
Cain was trying to decide if a response was called for when Teller came striding into the room, followed by a man and a woman in non-descript civilian clothing. “I made to the embassy.” He had a smile on his face. “There’s a transport waiting just outside. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Cain eased himself up to his feet. His arm was stiff, the throbbing pain worsening with any movement. “Let’s go, Admiral Garret. Time to get you out of here.”
Chapter 22
Fleet Command Control Center
AS Bunker Hill
Orbiting Columbia - Eta Cassiopeiae II
The flag bridge was silent, save for the faint hum of the ship’s systems in the background. Every eye was fixed on Terrance Compton, and he could feel them boring into him, wordlessly demanding an explanation. He had known this moment would come, but he’d hoped he would have more time. In the end, sabotaging Commnet only bought him an extra two weeks.
He managed to figure it out when Harrigan went AWOL with a shuttle. It was still officially classified as an accident, a transport lost to an unexplained disaster. But Compton never believed that. He knew there were Alliance Intelligence agents in his fleet – there were in every squadron. But he was unnerved that they had managed to get an operative so close to him. Knocking out Commnet may have saved his life, he thought; Harrigan probably had orders to assassinate him if he didn’t comply with Governor Cooper’s demands.
The courier ship broadcast the orders from Admiral Garret’s office directly to Compton’s entire staff, as well as every ship commander in the fleet. He was on the spot now; he had to respond, and he had to do it now. He could feel his heart beating in his ears like a muffled drum, and his head ached with a raw, dull pain.
“As you are aware, we recently received a communication purported to be from Admiral Garret.” He intended to speak to his command staff only at first; he had initially considered going right on fleetcom, but then he thought, first things first. If he couldn’t convince his own people he was doomed. And if he could, at least he’d have some allies when he confronted the ship captains. But the com circuits were already overloaded with incoming messages, so in the end he decided he’d address the entire fleet at once. “For some time now, I have been gravely concerned that Admiral Garret has been acting under considerable external pressure.”
He could see the doubtful expressions of his staff, and he could only imagine those on the captains listening on their bridges. He realized he needed to approach this on a different level. “As some of you may know, Augustus Garret and I attended the Naval Academy together. We served together, first as officers on the same ship, later as captains of vessels in the same squadron.” He turned casually as he spoke, constantly observing the officers standing around him. Good, he thought. Personalizing this is making more of an impression. “He is my closest friend as well as my commander. I would follow Admiral Garret’s orders if they were to set a course for hell itself…as long as I knew they were his legitimate commands.”
There was a ripple of mutterings through those assembled, barely audible, but real nonetheless. At least they are listening, he thought. “Many of you have served with me for years. Does anyone here doubt my motives? My loyalties? Is there anyone here who truly believes me disloyal to Admiral Garret?”
; He could see the confused, undecided looks on their faces. They had seen the message, yet they could not imagine Admiral Compton as a traitor or mutineer. Had the communiqué come from anyone with less stature than Admiral Garret, they would all have discounted it out of hand. But Augustus Garret was a legend…he was the navy. And they had seen him reading the order himself.
“Listen again to the transmission.” Compton knew he was gambling here. Showing the navy’s hero denouncing him again was a risky move, even if they had all seen it already. “Joker, replay the communication on fleetcom.”
The viewscreen had been displaying fleet deployments, but they disappeared, replaced by a solid blue background with the Alliance Seal in the center. After a few seconds, an image appeared…the image of Augustus Garret, seated at his desk. Garret’s expression was grim, his voice ominous.
“This order is sent to all personnel of command rank on the AS Bunker Hill and other ships of the Second Fleet.” Garret stared directly out from the screen, almost motionless as he spoke. “It is with the deepest regret and heartfelt sorrow that I must issue these commands.” It was Garret on the screen, or at least it looked just like him.
“I hereby order that Admiral Terrance Compton is relieved of command of the Second Fleet…” Garret was still looking straight ahead as he spoke. “…he is hereby stripped of all rank…” His voice was firm and steady, devoid of emotion. “…and I order that he be arrested at once and held in solitary confinement until such time as duly authorized personnel arrive to transport him back to Earth to stand trial.”
Compton glanced around the room. Maybe, he hoped…just maybe showing the order again is helping. The image on the screen looked like Garret, but anyone who knew the admiral…anyone who really knew him…could tell how unlike him this was. At least that’s what Compton was betting on.
“Admiral Compton has willfully disobeyed a Priority One order to aid and assist Alliance forces currently engaged in combat on the planet Columbia. His actions have resulted in the needless deaths of Alliance military personnel.” Garret’s voice remained steady, almost monotone. “Admiral Harmon is hereby ordered to take command of Second Fleet and to carry out the Priority One orders previously issued to Admiral Compton.” Garret paused, though he remained stationary, sitting almost at attention. “I have forwarded a copy of those orders to Admiral Harmon.”
He paused again, as if what he was saying was difficult for him, but when he continued his voice was still deadpan, unemotional. “This order is not easy for me to issue, and I understand that it may not be easy for Admiral Harmon and the rest of the officers of Second Fleet to obey. But our duty is clear. Garret out.” The screen faded to the blue background with the Alliance seal.
Compton panned around the room, pausing for an instant as he looked at each member of his staff. He could see the conflict and confusion in their expressions. “I am now going to share the contents of the Priority One order in question.” His voice was strong and clear. He was past worrying about this – he had chosen the right path, the only course that allowed him to live with himself. He’d rather spend the rest of his life in the brig – or be spaced for mutiny – than murder thousands of colonists at the behest of a psychopathic governor drunk on human blood. The die is cast, he thought, and now we’ll see how it plays out.
“I am violating regulations by disclosing this information, however the situation is one that I feel is unprecedented.” He turned slowly, still moving his eyes from officer to officer. “We were ordered to proceed to this system and provide any support requested by Governor Cooper. I followed that order to the letter, moving the fleet here at maximum speed and granting the governor’s requests. We have provided scanning support and deployed observation satellites as directed by the governor’s office.”
Compton felt strangely calm. For weeks he’d been dreading this moment, thinking about it, thrashing sleeplessly at night with worry. Now he felt relief; he didn’t know what would happen, but whatever it was, he vastly preferred action to waiting in anticipation.
“However, the governor requested that we launch a saturation bombardment of inhabited areas of the planetary surface with nuclear weapons.” Compton paused. Let them chew on that for a few seconds, he thought. “I was not provided with specific military targets; I was asked to carpet bomb a widespread area, an operation that would have caused thousands of civilian casualties.”
Compton was getting angry as he spoke. It was unthinkable to him that the Alliance navy would engage in the mass murder of thousands of citizens, and he hated the idea that he was standing here defending himself for not taking such action. “That is an immoral order and one I will not follow.” He was getting somewhere…he could see it in their expressions. “And it is an order that Augustus Garret would never issue. Either these transmissions have been tampered with, or Admiral Garret is under some form of pressure or duress.” It was a wild assertion, one that sounded like a crazy conspiracy theory. The fact that it was, in fact, true didn’t make it sound any more plausible.
There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Finally, a lone voice broke the silence. It was Commander Thomas, a tactical officer who had served with Compton for years. “Sir, I can’t speak for everyone, but for myself, I would never doubt your motives and integrity.” He paused, the tension in his voice apparent. “But how can you…how can we…simply disregard an order from Admiral Garret?”
Compton could feel every eye on the bridge on him. Indeed, most of the senior officers of the fleet were watching him now, waiting for his response. “I maintain that, as extreme as this may sound, Admiral Garret’s office has suffered some type of security breach, and these orders are either fake or the result of some form of duress on the admiral.” He paused then added, “The Augustus Garret I know would never issue these orders.”
He looked around the bridge. He could see the tension, the stress. “I understand that following my orders, backing me in this, puts your careers in jeopardy.” There was no sense ignoring that fact, he thought; they all knew the risks, so he might as well address them. “But to me, any other course of action is unthinkable. I did not give my entire life to the service to end up murdering Alliance citizens.”
He could see the expressions of his staff officers. They were uncomfortable, but he could tell he had them. One by one he could see the decision, the resolve in their faces.
“I am with you, sir.” Thomas was the first to speak up, an act of considerable courage. Once he had started it, the others joined in, one at a time, until everyone on the bridge had declared their allegiance.
Compton sighed softly. It was a good start, but he’d figured he could convince his own people. The rest of the command officers in the fleet would be more difficult.
“Sir, I have Admiral Harmon.” Thomas was looking nervously at Compton as he spoke.
Here we go, Compton thought. He considered Camille Harmon a good officer, honest and fair. The two hadn’t served long together, but they’d gotten along well enough. He nodded to Thomas, a signal to put the Admiral on the line. “Hello, Admiral Harmon. Calling to demand my surrender?”
There was an instant of silence, and Compton’s newfound calm briefly deserted him, replaced by a rush of adrenalin. Whatever Harmon said was going to set events in motion, probably very quickly. “Strange times, Admiral Compton. Strange times indeed.”
Damn her, thought Compton…I can’t read a thing from her voice.
“This puts me in a very difficult situation, Admiral Compton.”
Her voice was somber, but firm. Whatever she was going to say, Compton thought, she’s already decided.
“I find it almost inconceivable to disregard Admiral Garret’s order.”
Compton tensed, ready to spring into action. He was pretty sure he’d keep Bunker Hill – he knew Elizabeth would side with him. But if Harmon went against him he had no idea how the fleet would react. Expecting them to disobey Garret and the appointed admiral on the scene was a heavy load.
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br /> “However, I find it completely inconceivable to indiscriminately bombard civilian targets.” Her voice was decisive, though he could hear the sorrow in it. “I therefore will continue to acknowledge your command of the fleet, pending confirmation of Admiral Garret’s order.”
Compton exhaled, feeling some of the tension draining away. With Harmon on his side he was pretty sure he’d maintain control of the fleet. His relief, however, was short-lived.
The line was still open and on speaker a few seconds later when a loud noise came through, then another. It was hard to tell over the comlink, but it sounded like gunfire. The entire command staff on Bunker Hill gasped, heads snapping up, looking toward Compton. The next sound was a scream, followed by more shooting.
“Admiral Harmon, report.” Compton waited a few seconds then repeated himself. “Admiral Harmon? Report.”
Another ten or twenty seconds went by before a response came. When it did, it was a man’s voice, not Harmon’s. “Admiral Harmon has been shot, sir.”
Compton was stunned. “Report in detail.”
The response was delayed; the bridge of Harmon’s ship was in utter chaos. “Sir, the admiral is still alive, but she is unconscious. The Marines killed the shooter.”
Compton’s thoughts raced. Alliance Intelligence…it has to be. They got Harrigan on my ship, so why should I be surprised they got someone close to Camille? Harrigan would probably be shooting at me right now if he was still here.