The only light in the Ready Room was from the viewports, tiny pinpricks of light representing stars or the warships escorting the Carpathia speckled across an implacable backdrop of nothingness. Not even the light from the Helix Nebula – barely fifty light-years away – could penetrate the shroud that had descended on the room.
The Ready Room was not quiet, either. The background hum of the ship was overwhelmed by the soaring sounds of an orchestra, pulsing and crashing rhythmically. Although he was no musical prodigy – he could play the guitar reasonably well – he knew that the small number of instruments in the piece meant it hailed from the Classical period.
Which probably meant Mozart, James Hunter’s favourite composer from the period.
“David, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
James Hunter had his back to the door, his attention fixed on the viewports behind his desk.
“Mozart?” David asked in greeting.
James sounded impressed. “Yes, actually.” He spun around lazily, positively lounging in his chair as he turned the lights up fractionally. He was dressed in full combat fatigues, his standard-issue sidearm in its holster on the desk in front of him. “His Symphonic Concerto. Very good, David. I’m impressed.”
David smiled appreciatively at the praise. “Another one of Jennifer’s recordings?”
James arched an eyebrow. “No, actually, mine.” He waved expansively as the solo violin began its melody. “Jennifer is the solo violin, I’m at the podium. This was recorded back in ’17.” With a theatrical wave, the music was silenced just as the violin was reaching a crescendo. “Not that you came here to discuss music.”
David straightened formally. “No, sir. Admiral Halsey’s shuttle will be landing in a few minutes.”
James sighed disparagingly, his lip curling into a disgusted snarl. “Yes, I know. Do me a favour and greet them in the main hangar, will you?” David thought there was more that James wanted to say, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself – after all, he’d already said quite enough about the subject already.
“Of course, sir,” David said, smiling. “The last of the dock workers have been evacuated from the drydocks and are returning to Elysium.”
James nodded. “Not that there was all that many of them, but good. They’d only get in the way of things… and we can’t exactly afford to lose engineers, can we?”
“Not if we can help it, especially if we actually want to use this shipyard at some point.” David nodded out the viewport, where a solitary drydock was just coming into view. “We are going to use it, aren’t we?”
“The parts that survive, sure,” James answered, grinning.
“Care to let me in on how much this has cost?”
James was sotto-voiced as he answered bluntly, his eyes flashing. He’d been resolutely mute about the details of the setup since work on it had started, and now was no exception. “More than most people could ever make in a lifetime, David.”
“That much, huh? Are we going to alert Admiral Halsey about the particulars of our subterfuge? I can’t say I like keeping our superiors in the dark like this.”
“I don’t see a need for her to know, David, and until I’m ordered to divulge more information, she remains in the dark,” James said, shaking his head furiously. “The less that idiot woman knows, the better, David. What she doesn’t know, can’t hurt us.”
David smirked – ever since Halsey had indicated her intention to have a hands-on approach to the battle ahead, James had been fuming about the woman. He’d tolerated the idea while Halsey had been holed up on Elysium, overseeing preparations from Elysium HQ… but then she’d announced her intention of raising her flag on one of the dreadnaughts.
The resulting spray from James had been as furious as it had been long, and, were the situation not so grave, it would have been rather amusing to watch.
But this is no time for laughter, David mused, conceding that James’ concerns over Halsey were well-founded. As much as David was a military man, he knew that James’ abilities as a tactician far out-paced everyone else in the system.
“We’re also twenty minutes away from the earliest ETA of the N’xin.”
James sighed and rolled his eyes. “I do have a chronometer on my VA, David. You didn’t have to come all the way across the command tower and tell me that.”
David smiled ruefully, holding up a placating hand. “I was just making sure,” he said by way of apology, somewhat put off by the sharpness in his friend’s tone. “Usually, in the leadup to a battle, you’re out there micro-managing everything.”
A corner of James’ lip twisted upward. “I don’t micro-manage everything, David.” He rose quickly, his demeanour going from borderline sulky to rigidly confident in an instant. He tapped his head. “I have actually been running multiple battle simulations, trying to account for every possible variable we might come across.”
“Any nasty surprises?”
James pursed his lips as he glowered. “A few, but they are all dependent on the N’xin arriving in greater numbers than we’re anticipating… or if someone on our side makes some very foolish decisions.” He sighed. We can’t really do anything about the former, but against the latter…” He breathed out heavily and slapped his hands against his thighs. “But you’re right, I suppose, I really should be making my way to the bridge. I should be getting ready for Halsey to take over –”
He was interrupted by the intercom blaring.
“All decks, battle-stations! N’xin assault fleet entering real-space.”
Both David and James glanced out the viewports, but with the Carpathia facing in the wrong direction, they saw nothing but the flotilla around them. That will change any minute now, David thought to himself, even as a squadron of fighters flashed past the viewports.
“They’re early,” James said unnecessarily, powering towards the door as the alert klaxon blared. “Just as well we were expecting them,” James said mischievously as he stepped out onto the corridor, waving harried crew members along. “David, make sure Halsey gets onboard safely and greet her in the main hangar.”
“Aye, sir,” answered David smartly, already veering to the right towards a turbolift that would take him down to the hangar.
“Oh, and David?” James called out near the threshold to the bridge. David turned to look at him. “Make sure that woman stays out of my way for as long as possible.”
David smirked. “I’ll do my best.”
*
“We are secure from FTL, Admiral.”
“I can see that,” Hawthorne murmured, more to himself than the helmsman. Sarcasm was a sign of normalcy, and normalcy was good in a maelstrom of abnormal circumstances. Even as he turned to the main sensor officer, there was a din of orders and counter-orders being given by his senior staff. “Give me a reading of the star, Lieutenant Cruz.”
Dead ahead, 2 AUs from the pointed prow of the Bellerophon, the star of J-24 was in the midst of frenzied outburst of deadly radiation.
“Radiation spillage is higher than we’d anticipated, Admiral,” Cruz reported after a moment’s consultation with his console. “Coronal eruptions are also much more severe than expected.”
“Will our shields hold?” Shanthi asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t venture much closer to the star. And frankly, our sensors aren’t working very well with all this EM int–” Cruz was cut off from continuing by a loud trill from his console. “The N’xin are alerted to our presence.”
“No surprise,” Hawthorne muttered, and smiled up at Shanthi. “Roll out the welcome mat for them, will you?”
For once, Shanthi offered a rare smile. “I’d like nothing better.”
*
“What is this?”
Kuellan Mk’bak stared at the status readouts that encircled his command circle. He’d expected some resistance to his lightning thrust at the new vermin shipyards, but this?
He hadn’t expected to be facing down a superior number of human vessels; n
or had he known that his arrival would be expected – for that is surely the only logical outcome one could reach.
Already, fringe elements from the Commonwealth fleet were engaging the forward sections of Kuellan’s forces, the space around the groups erupting into spectacular geysers of radiant energy pulses as the two sides exchanged fire as the distances between them shrank.
“They clearly anticipated our arrival,” First Captain Tel’For – competent, but dreadfully inexperienced – said from the perimeter of the command circle, his eyes wide in shock. Ordinarily, Kuellan would have someone far more experienced by his side, but the amount of attrition the N’xin had endured in recent months had made that impossible.
“That much is certain,” Kuellan murmured as he stalked the perimeter of the circle, his gaze unwavering from the holoprojections that lined the bulkheads of the bridge. Everywhere he looked bought more alarming news.
“My lord, we’re getting a priority communique from Al’amut….”
Kuellan – who had been in the process of approaching his Flight Coordinator – paused and became rigid, standing up straight. Al’amut – or J-24, as the human’s dared to call it in their primitive language – had been their point of departure.
“Another update, probably.” Kuellan muttered, annoyed. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by a star system parsecs away. “What do they want?” he asked slowly, dangerously. He had had his fill of surprises for one day, he did not need – the Hegemony did not need – further distractions.
“Could be a follow up to their first…” Fel’Tor said, more to himself than anyone else. They’d received the first report while they were travelling at FTL, and it had warned the fleet of severe disruptions to the Alamut sun. While alarming, there was nothing obviously sinister about it, and, considering how far away the battle-group was, Kuellan had made the decision to carry on to Elysium.
“Well?” Kuellan asked the First Captain spent several long seconds staring at the screen. The expression Tel’For wore was one of confusion and alarm.
“It’s just gibberish, my lord,” Tel’For announced heavily, stepping forward, almost reluctantly, and handing Kuellan the datapad. “There’s barely a signal, much less anything to decrypt… It’s almost like they’re being jammed.”
And like a star going nova, it all became clear to Kuellan. He’d been had; the vermin had managed to outmanoeuvre and outsmart him. It was almost inconceivable… but there it was. Everything he had fought for, everything he had done… hadn’t been enough.
“It’s a trap!”
*
“Glad you made it onboard safely, Admiral.”
“Thank you, Captain Hunter,” Anita Halsey drawled in her Arkansas accent, as she swept onto the command area of the bridge, her cadre of assistants loitering behind at the aft work-stations. A handful of officers saluted smartly, but the rest were too engrossed in their readouts to notice her. “We only just made it.”
James had to resist rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” James said, offering a slight smirk to David Garret as he sidled up to James, his XO taking in the status reports that were starting to filter in. “But I’m afraid we had to ensure that our fighter squadrons were launched as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Halsey said softly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Thanks to David’s adherence to procedure, it had taken nearly fifteen minutes for the shuttle carrying Halsey to make it onboard and disembark, and almost another ten to make it to the bridge. “How goes the battle?”
“It’s only just started,” James said, making a sweeping gesture with his left hand out the viewports. Beyond, the N’xin fleet was arrayed for battle, the forward elements of their invasion force beginning to trade blows with the advance units of the Commonwealth fleet. “The N’xin appear to have taken the bait entirely,” he continued, pointing to an auxiliary display. “They know they’re outnumbered, so they’re sending the bulk of their fastest ships for a lightning thrust at our new shipyards in order to get out quickly.”
“Exactly as you predicted,” Halsey said assuredly, and Hunter wasn’t sure if he detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Or perhaps it was envy – after all, Halsey had been dumped from the SOC when Hawthorne had taken over, relegated to commanding a fleet in friendly territory. “Are you prepared to transfer command over to me?”
James eyed her, careful not allow his disdain for her presence here to show. If he was to surrender command of the Carpathia to someone, he’d rather it be to Admiral Petrov. Petrov, at least, had recent combat experience… but Petrov was on Elysium, not trusting himself to command one of the greatest military battles in Commonwealth history.
“If that is your wish, Admiral, then I will surrender command of the fleet to you,” James said, even as he relayed another series of commands through his VA to the fleet. Until she officially took command from him, this circus was his to run, and he’d run it as he saw fit… and probably better than she would.
She sensed his obvious reluctance. “But you don’t want me to?” Halsey asked, almost as a challenge, and almost instantly, the atmosphere of the bridge seemed to tense as several bridge officers eyed the stand-off apprehensively. James privately wondered how many would side with him.
Not that we’re looking at a mutiny here, he reminded himself. Halsey was capable of the job, it simply meant more people would die if she ran things… at least, that’s what he kept telling himself, though he had ample evidence to back up his assertion that he was a superior tactician than she was. This is my plan after all. That would be enough for most people.
James arched an eyebrow at her, then swept towards her, lowering his voice. “With all due respect, Admiral, no, I don’t.” He nodded at her rank insignia. “You may outrank me, ma’am, but you haven’t logged a single combat hour in over a year… and even that was a small engagement compared to this. I’d much rather Admiral Petrov, or even Admiral Leahym here… in fact, I’d just about rather anyone with more recent combat experience than you.”
There was a tense silence between them for a moment before Halsey responded, almost meekly. “I see.” Halsey drew herself up – an unimpressive feat, considering how small she was compared to the rest of the bridge crew. James knew he was relatively safe from a dressing-down – now was not the time for recriminations, after all – but he knew that he’d be copping a spray when the battle was over… provided they lived.
“Captain Hunter –” one of Halsey’s attachés started, but was cut off by a curt raising of her hand to forestall any interruptions.
“Kenneth didn’t want to accept the responsibility,” Halsey said evenly, her smouldering gaze boring into him. If it was meant to intimidate him, it didn’t work. “Neither did Armando. As the next senior officer in the system, it falls to me to oversee the defence of –”
“Task Force Four has engaged enemy capital ships,” Lieutenant Stephens interrupted loudly, his voice wavering, either due to the stress of combat, or fear of incurring the wrath of one of his superiors. “TF-Five and the Matador’s group estimate engagement in thirty seconds.”
“Understood,” James snapped, his attention immediately going back to the battlefield – the Matador was the oldest dreadnaught in his fleet, and was at the apex of the Commonwealth formation. “Order the Matador to fall back to Mobile Position One, and have its squadron reform around it.” He returned his attention to Halsey. “Admiral, it falls to you to oversee the battle, that doesn’t mean that your immediate input is required… especially when your suggested battleplan is nowhere near as good as mine.”
Halsey considered him in silence for a long moment, then made a sweeping gaze of the bridge. Her eyes locked with David Garret, who stared back at her implacably. “Very well, Hunter, you win.” She sounded resigned as she locked eyes with him again. “You may retain command of our forces.” She stalked past him to one of the auxiliary stations along the portside of the bridge. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind…
And Hunter?”
James hid a smirk. “Yes, Admiral?” he asked as politely as he could manage, having already begun a march back to his command chair.
“You’d better be right about this.”
He gave her a wan smile before sobering as the deck rattled underneath his feet. “If I’m wrong, Admiral, I doubt we’ll live long enough to regret it.”
Halsey cocked her head, considering that. “I suspect you’re right, Hunter.” She offered a contrite smile. “Good luck.”
He nodded his appreciation. “To us all.”
*
“My god, it’s actually happening.”
The ballroom in the Hunter mansion had been converted into a War Room, At the northern end, the Battle of J-24 was playing out in a pretty display of blue (the Commonwealth) and red (the N’xin), delayed by over fifteen minutes on account of transmission lag – and then having to decrypt the military transmissions – highly illegal, of course, but given the importance of this day, the Hunter’s – particularly Patrick – didn’t care.
“I’ll pay whatever fine they deem appropriate,” he had boomed loudly – completely dismissing the likelihood of a prison sentence – when he’d announced the family viewing, “But I’m not waiting to find out if members of my family have died.” He’d seemed oblivious to the discomfort this bought to Jennifer and her children.
Troy had simply shaken his head and rolled his eyes apologetically. And so Jennifer had bought the girls with her to the fortified mansion, her mood both buoyant and despondent in equal measures – after all, if the Commonwealth won then she’d be seeing her husband soon.
And if James died… well, Jennifer would be able to move on with her life.
The fight for Elysium – and the object of Jennifer Hunter’s rapt attention – dominated the southern portion of the ballroom. Here, there was no lag to speak of, everything was being broadcast as it happened. In a way, it was rather freeing, not having to rely on censored news sources reporting, often hours after the fact, of events that had happened.
For once, we are acutely aware of the narrative.
A Call to Arms Page 38