Never In Vain (Lincoln's War Book 2)

by Richard Tongue

 “Technically, no, but...”

   “Then Santos-Dumont can transition to Zemlya, and alert the tankers of the opportunity. Titov is stranded in this system in any case until repairs can be completed, but is in all other respects fit for action. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, Major.”

   “We’re ready to fight, Captain, but if a full-scale Guilder task force jumps into the system, there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop them.”

   “Come on, Vadim,” Volkov said. “We gave them a bloody nose. Enough that send them running for cover for a while. The one ship that did get clear was badly damaged. They aren’t going to come back this way any time soon, and the tankers will be coming through in less than twenty-four hours.” Turning to Forrest, he continued, “I presume you’re hoping to make full use of the element of surprise, Captain?”

   “I still don’t see it,” Kozlov retorted. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t see it. You’re planning on going in with one escort. Komarov. With all due respect to Major Volkov and his crew, those odds are far too heavy to risk in a battle of that nature. You’ll be up against almost overwhelming disadvantages.” Pulling out a datapad, he continued, “If we can get the equipment we need, Titov can be back into the fight in six days. Within your deadline. And there are more ships back at Zemlya, not counting the possibility of putting together a stronger allied formation. We don’t need to rush in where angels fear to tread. Better to walk.”

   A brief chuckle swept around the room, and Gonzalez said, “He’s right, Captain. We’ve got nine days. I say we use every damned minute of them to the best advantage. Get more fighters back onto the line, send out some more invitations to the party.”

   “That, Major, is precisely what I am worried about,” she replied. “Right now, my guess is that the commander of that installation is getting an accurate report of our current tactical situation, the damage we have suffered, and that we have a captive who they can expect to have briefed us about their plan. Which is why I stress that whether or not I can trust our source is unimportant. The only thing we have to rely upon him for is the location of the enemy base. If that turns out to be false, then none of this matters anyway, and we’re only wasting a little time.”

   “Time which the Guilders could use to launch a major offensive,” Kozlov warned.

   With a bark of laughter, Benedetti replied, “Just what do you think we could do about that, Major? We’re tapped out. Which means that we’ve got to attack. If we strike hard, and strike now, then we have the element of surprise on our side, and we get to choose the time and place of the battle. Those are the only advantages that we’ve got, and any delay risks throwing them away. We’ve got to take this chance.” Turning to Garcia, she continued, “We can operate out of Lincoln, at least in the short term. With the reserves, that gives us six bombers to contribute.”

   “You haven’t even got one missile for each capital ship!” Kozlov protested. “Captain, I warn you, I will not have anything to do with an incipient massacre such as this. We’ve won a victory, a great victory. Isn’t that enough for you? Do we have the right to demand more good luck?”

   “This battle was not won by luck,” Flynn said, his voice chilled as ice. “I think Lieutenant Mendez might have something to say about that suggestion, but you’re going to have to shout pretty damned loud if you what her to hear you, Major.”

   “Commander,” Singh said. “Major Kozlov has a point.”

   Rising to his feet, Flynn replied, “No, sir, with respect, he doesn’t. You want us to win this war for you, Major, then we’re going to have to take some risks, probably some pretty damned big ones. You haven’t gone up against a PacFed formation before, but I have. I know precisely what we’re facing, and the last time I launched an attack like that, I lost damn near my entire squadron.”

   “All the more reason...”

   Slamming a hand on the desk, Flynn said, “And this is still the right decision to make! You give my people and I your tactical data, Captain, and we’ll come up with a way of pounding that base into so much rubble.” Turning to look Kozlov in the face, he continued, “And frankly, Major, you’d better hope that we turn out to be a collection of tactical geniuses, because if we screw this up, we lose the war. They get that task force into position, with support from their own ships, and they’ll swat any task force we can conjure up like a fly.”

   Nodding, Tanaka added, “Also, we have a figure of nine days, but I don’t think we can be particularly confident in it. If I were the enemy commander, I’d be rushing those ships into service as fast as I can, knowing that there was a risk of attack. We might have seven days, or five. Today, if this information is correct, the enemy is vulnerable. We can’t take a chance on that situation ending before we can take full advantage of it. I know that this isn’t a democracy, and I know that you don’t want a show of hands, ma’am, but I say that we must attack, and as soon as possible.”

   Brooks sighed, nodded, and said, “Give me twelve hours, Captain, and I’ll have Lincoln and Komarov back to full combat status, as well as a dozen of our fighters. We’ll need some time to transfer spares and ordnance for the bombers, as well.”

   “That gives us time to come up with a battle plan,” Flynn added.

   Shaking his head, Garcia said, “It’s a hell of a risk, Captain. A hell of a risk.”

   Nodding, Forrest replied, “I agree with that. It’s a big risk. One that under normal circumstances I wouldn’t justify. Leaving that fleet alone is a substantially greater risk. The Guild will undoubtedly put together a major concentration of ships. We can’t wait any longer than we must.” Looking at Garcia, she continued, “When we left Zemlya, it was clearly understood that my decision to commit my ship to this mission was contingent on the sole operational command being mine. That situation has not changed, not in the slightest.”

   “It was never intended to apply to a continuation of the mission,” Kozlov protested.

   “Never the less, Major, the decision is mine, and it is made. Lincoln and Komarov will launch the attack in twelve hours. Major Kozlov will remain in command of forces in this system, pending the arrival of the tankers. Commander Garcia will return to Zemlya and organize the departure of the petrochemical convoy to Lemurian space at the earliest possible opportunity.” Cracking a smile, she added, “At the very least, I suspect that you will find our attack quite a distraction for you.”

   “And you’re taking my fighter cover.”

   “Borrowing, Commander, only borrowing, and I remind you that Santos-Dumont will be traveling through undefended territory all the way. With a little luck, Nelyubov should be ready when you reach Zemlya, and her commander can provide escort. I doubt he’ll have any objections to you coming along for the ride.”

   “Then there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”

   “I’m afraid not, Commander. Though if you wish, I will note your protest in my log. Major Volkov, we’ll have a final tactical briefing in ten hours, and I’d like you and your top staff in attendance.”

   “We’ll be there, Captain,” he replied. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

   “Then I think that’s all,” she said. “Commander Flynn, please wait a moment.” The officers rose, walking out of the room, Benedetti glancing back at Flynn before leaving. After a moment, Forrest and Flynn were alone, the door slamming shut.

   “If it’s about what I said...”

   “Partly,” she replied. “Partly. You shot Kozlov down in flames rather effectively.”

   “It had to be done.”

   Nodding, she said, “I might have been a little more diplomatic.” Looking him in the eyes, she said, “Is this about Lieutenant Mendez?”

   “I’ve lost a lot of friends fighting the Guild, Captain. I don’t want their sacrifice to have been for nothing, and if we lose this war...”

   “Agreed,” she said. “Level with me, Commander. Can you really do this?”


   Flynn looked at the image on the holodisplay, tangled rocks dancing around each other, projected targets flickering in and out of existence as the view slowly rotated, and said, “Yes, Captain. We’ll find a way. It’s not as if we have a choice.”

  Chapter 14

   Romano walked into the office, putting a steaming cup of coffee in front of Kirkland, pushing a pile of datapads out of the way to rest it on the desk. He peered over her shoulder at the report she was scrutinizing, then sat down on the only other available chair, taking a quick sip of his own drink. She looked up after a moment, then tossed the report to join the others, nearly knocking over the cup in the process.

   “Nothing, Commander?” he asked.

   “I’ve checked all of the internal sensor logs for the past week, cross-referencing them with all reported activity in the service ducts, and it all adds up to nothing. No sign of any unusual activity.” Raising a hand, she said, “Which is a load of crap, given what happened to you during the battle. You might be interested to know that your encounter in the maintenance crawlway never happened. Not according to the sensors.”

   “Meaning that we know have absolute verification that the sensor logs have been altered.” He pulled another datapad out of his pocket, and said, “I do know that we don’t have anyone on board we don’t know about. I just got back from the oxygen reservoir. It’s running exactly as we’d expect, given the number of crew we have on board, according to the standard baseline projections. I drew the data right out of the system itself, and it’s isolated from the rest of the network.”

   “What? That’s a little overzealous. Good for us, but...”

   “It wasn’t intentional. Looks like there was a maintenance malfunction a few months back, and they never managed to repair the data line. It’s been running autonomously just fine, though, and I made sure not to log a request for repair. I don’t think we’re in any hurry. The main thing is that we’re not dealing with a stowaway, but a saboteur.”

   “I think I’d have preferred the first option, Lieutenant.”

   He sighed, nodded, and said, “I’m forced to agree, but at least we’re limiting the number of potential suspects a little.” Looking up at the monitors, he saw dozens of images flickering on and off, the computer analyzing the views from the security cameras in an attempt to track down every member of the crew, hoping to determine by omission a list of potential candidates for the assault on Turret Control. “Might as well turn that off. If someone’s managed to get to the internal sensors, they could easily have found a way to mess around with the visual pickups as well.”

   “Agreed, but I’m going ahead with it anyway.” She turned to Romano, and said, “I might not give the information that comes up any credence, but I can’t help but wonder who might be watching us work at this moment. We’ve got to follow the trail of breadcrumbs they leave, or they’ll start thinking of something else to do. The most important thing is to lull our traitors into a false sense of security. While you and I try and find some way to find them.”

   Romano paused, shook his head, and said, “We’re not going to find them, Commander. Not this way. Maybe if we had weeks, could lock down the ship and had nothing else to do, but the word is that we’re going to battle tonight.”

   “We are. Don’t spread it around, though.” Glaring at him, she said, “I presume you aren’t saying that we should give up.”

   “No, I’m not saying that, ma’am, I’m just saying that I don’t think we can track our friends down by any sort of conventional means, that’s all. We’re going to have to do it another way, and that means setting a trap. If we can draw them out into the open, force their hand, then we stand at least a chance of bringing them down.” Looking up at the images on display, he added, “We were lucky last time, Commander. I don’t think we can count on being quite so lucky next time. If they’d managed to knock out our turrets...”

   Shaking her head, Kirkland said, “It isn’t that simple. Have you noticed the pattern developing? None of the sabotage our hidden friend...or friends...have undertaken has been designed to destroy this ship. The hyperdrive failure would have either forced us out of hyperspace in the wrong location or stranded us here, in this system. Even the loss of the turrets wouldn’t have destroyed us. Just forced us to return to Zemlya for repairs.”

   Nodding, Romano said, “Then they want us captured intact. That would make a lot of sense, actually. The Guild will be getting a lot out of the PacFed ships they’ve captured.” At her expression, he added, “If that was meant to be a secret, ma’am, it died as soon as I saw that we were engaging PacFed fighters, and I doubt that I’m the only member of the crew to work that out. In all honesty, Commander, I don’t think there’s much point keeping it quiet. It’s only likely to spur the crew on if they knew what we were going up against. I know most of them have a feeling of unfinished business.”

   “And you?”

   “We’re fighting a war right now. One thing at a time. And I might be new to this, but I still know that you can’t let emotions get in the way. Not if you want to win. Too much danger of ending up on some sort of kamikaze mission if we don’t.” He paused, and said, “We’re going after the PacFed ships, aren’t we?”

   “The Captain will announce our mission to the crew shortly,” Kirkland replied. “From a purely theoretical standpoint, then, you think our saboteur is under orders to deliver us to the Guild intact, for research and analysis?”

   “It’s the only answer that makes sense,” he said, his voice uncertain. “Though I can’t help but think there’s more to this story.” His eyes widened, and he said, “Commander, that’s it! We’re not dealing with a Guild agent, or someone who had been selling us out to a mega-corporation. We’re dealing with a PacFed sleeper operative, maybe more than one!”

   “What?”

   “Think about it, Commander. They launched a surprise attack on us, managed to find a way to crack into our systems, even this ship’s sensor suite. Displaying exactly the sort of skills that would be required to pull off this operation. If the Guild has captured PacFed ships, then there’s an excellent chance that they would have found the identity of those operatives.”

   Frowning, Kirkland replied, “Surely, though, they’d just run and hide. Commander Singh was right. What possible motivation would they have for working for the Guild?” She paused, then answered her own question, replying, “Blackmail. If the crew found out that one of their own had been responsible for stranding them here, they’d tear them limb from limb, without any doubt at all. They wouldn’t survive for five minutes. Even if they tried to run, we’d hunt them down half-way across the galaxy if we had to, and the lower decks would be cheering us on all the way.”

   Nodding, Romano said, “That makes our job a hell of a lot easier. All we have to do is find the members of the hidden sleeper cell.”

   Raising an eyebrow, Kirkland said, “Presumably trained by PacFed Intelligence, and almost certainly having been on this ship for weeks, maybe months, with experience of staying hidden in the shadows for that entire time. And knowing that if they make any mistake, they’ll die at the hands of the crew. This doesn’t make our job easier. It makes it harder.”

   “There’s a prisoner on board, Commander,” Romano said.

   Taking a deep breath, Kirkland pulled out a communicator, and said, “I need a tight-beam, encrypted channel direct to the Captain, right away.” She paused, then added, “Yes, Specialist, it is urgent, and absolute top-priority. I need to speak to Captain Forrest, right now.”

   After another pause, Forrest replied, “Go ahead, Commander.”

   “I need permission to brief Lieutenant Romano, based on the needs of our investigation into the sabotage that took place during the battle.”

   “Very well, Commander. Proceed as you think best. Forrest out.”

   “That was easy,” Forrest replied, closing the channel. “Yes, Lieutenant
, you are correct. We’ve got a prisoner on board, a senior PacFed officer. We’re using the intelligence he provided to plan our attack on the enemy fleet. Which consists of three PacFed cruisers. To the best of our knowledge, that information is correct, though I’m not sure I’d have trusted it in the circumstances.” Shaking her head, she added, “That doesn’t matter right now. I think I know where you’re going with this. He didn’t mention the names of any agents.”

   “We need to meet him.”

   “I’m sure the Captain will have thought about that already.”

   “Maybe, but it won’t hurt to ask the question again, especially with what we now know. Where is he being held?”

   “Maximum security brig, with a permanent guard on duty.”

   Romano looked at her, and said, “Commander, how many people have been briefed about this man?”

   “Maybe fifteen, all senior officers. And the guards, of course. Six, on rotation.” She looked at him, and said, “Good God, I didn’t think of that.” Leaping out of her chair, she raced to the wall, slammed a hand on a communications control, and said, “This is Commander Kirkland. Master-at-arms to the brig on the double. I repeat, master-at-arms to the brig on the double.”

   Romano was already on his way out of the room, Kirkland racing to catch him as he sped towards the elevator, nearly knocking a loitering technician to the deck in his haste. He slid through the doors, Kirkland a heartbeat behind him, and slammed the control to send them racing down the shaft, hurtling towards the brig.

   “Damn, I hope we aren’t too late,” Kirkland said. “I should have seen this coming.”

   “We only just put the pieces together, Commander,” Romano replied. “It isn’t your fault.”

   “His information is critical to the operation. If he’s dead...”

   The doors slid open, and Romano stepped out to see a mob swarming across the deck, racing towards the brig, the two guards uncertainly looking at each other, standing on the wrong side of the doors. Only the guards had sidearms, but the mob had equipped themselves with any heavy instruments they could find, wrenches, pipes, knives. Enough to make a comprehensive mess of anyone they wanted to kill. Their eyes were lit with bloodlust, obscene curses escaping their lips as they struggled forward, struggled to reach the subject of their anger, their rage.