John nodded, bringing up a side screen with a list of detailed characteristics for the contact.
“Every vessel has a unique gravimetric signature, caused by shape, mass, and certain pieces of equipment. We’ve been recording and analysing Raffles’ signature for the past day, and this is definitely a match.”
“Okay,” Thomas said, pushing away from ASW. “Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“AVW, captain,” he called out. “Status of hostiles?”
“The frigate’s in retreat, sir. The cutter is rising in orbit but not closing us.”
“Very good.” He reached the second officer-of-the-watch station and touched Hayley’s shoulder.
“System status?”
“All vital systems operational,” she declared loudly, for all to hear.
“Very good.” He picked up a handset and tapped in a particular number.
“Port forward countermeasures,” Chen responded.
“This is the captain,” he said very quietly. “Is the package loaded?”
“Yes, sir. Tube six is loaded with the package and ready.”
Thomas scanned the tracking info on Hayley’s tactical display, noting that Moore’s sensors were easily pinpointing Singapore—even through the immense clutter of orbital traffic—as the destroyer raced for its launch point. He saw that countermeasures tube six was indeed showing green status, and John had assured him that his tweaking of the Centauri microtorpedo meant it would respond to the launch commands of a Terran ship.
The command—which Chen had pre-programmed with help from John—was to track down Singapore and destroy its bridge. When that weapon fired, Thomas knew that both his mentor and one of his oldest friends would die.
Hayley’s hand was near the launch button, and she looked up at him in dread-filled questioning.
He motioned her aside.
“I’ve got this.”
“Thank you, sir.” She glided to the other end of her console, busying herself with other duties.
“Captain, sir, AAW! A new wave of planetary vampires has launched—assess thirty or more!”
Thomas glanced up. “Time to intercept?” His finger still hovered over the countermeasures fire button. There was a pause from AAW, and Thomas turned his focus back to the personal mission. He rechecked the firing solution one last time, then reached for the button.
“Sir! The vampires aren’t aimed at us—they’re firing at Raffles!”
Thomas moved his hands away from the console, staring up at the symbols moving across the face of Abeona on the forward half of the bridge sphere. A swarm of red hostiles were coming up from the planet, and he could see that both the frigate and the cutter were vectoring toward the blue symbol of Singapore.
“Flank speed,” he shouted. “Engage hostiles zero-four and zero-five with missiles—salvo sizes six!”
The volleys of missiles launched forth, and the Centauri frigate maneuvered wildly as it launched countermeasures and engaged its defenses. The cutter was farther away, and didn’t seem to notice the sudden attack until almost too late. The frigate survived the assault but continued to drop toward lower orbit, no longer attempting to close Singapore. The cutter took the brunt of the missile strike, and despite the distance Thomas saw the visible explosions momentarily light up the sky.
He felt a moment of grim satisfaction, then realized the absurdity of it. Was he going to protect Singapore from enemy fire, just so he could destroy her himself?
“Raffles is maneuvering,” AVW reported. “Looks like she’s trying to evade the surface missiles.”
Thomas noted the clock. It was sixty seconds to H-hour. If Singapore appeared to be doomed, Chandler might very well fire the Dark Bomb early, and hope for the best.
He slammed his hand down.
The console lights shifted to indicate that the package had launched.
“Captain, sir, AVW. We’re tracking the Special Forces craft on approach.”
The planetary missiles swarmed Singapore—she had no chance, and there was nothing Moore could do to save her.
“Recover the Special Forces craft,” he ordered. “Break for open space and then prepare for jump.”
The view on the sphere shifted as Moore turned away from Abeona, but Thomas spun around to keep his eyes on the single blue symbol of Singapore as she fought valiantly against the overwhelming attack. As his friend Sean Duncan fought to survive, and his mentor Eric Chandler tried to impose the will of Terra on all of humanity.
The blue symbol flashed, then winked out.
Thomas dropped his eyes, unsure whether he wanted to scream, cry, or vomit. His insides churned and sweat soaked his uniform beneath the emergency suit. He noticed Hayley hovering near him, the subbie’s pale face fixed on his.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayley whispered. “We did our duty.”
Thomas forced himself to nod, then pushed back over to his command chair. Hooking in, he automatically surveyed the tactical situation around him. His crew was entirely focused on keeping Moore safe, and even as he watched a pair of anti-attack missiles fired from the after launchers, taking down a lone Centauri missile that was chasing the cruiser.
Otherwise, though, it seemed as if the enemy—no, the Centauris—were willing to let him go.
“Have we recovered the operatives?” he asked.
“Yes, sir—now inside the hangar and secure.”
“ASW, any gravimetric changes to Abeona?”
Beside him, Overvelde cast him a curious look.
“No change, sir,” John reported.
He assessed the tactical situation once more, assuring himself that there were no immediate threats.
“All stations, stand by for jump to Terra.”
Moments later, Overvelde nodded. “Ready for jump, sir.”
“Start the countdown.”
“One minute to jump,” Hayley announced.
Thomas watched the retreating tactical situation, telling himself over and over that it had been the Centauri missiles that had destroyed Singapore. Very likely his efforts had contributed nothing to the mission’s failure.
“Thirty seconds to jump,” Hayley said.
“Jump coordinates locked,” John said, “projector ready.”
Thomas looked back over his shoulder at the brilliant orb of Abeona, wondering if he’d ever see it again. The planet would survive, but Thomas wasn’t too sure of his own fate when he returned to Terra. He saw Jack Mallory entering the bridge and hooking to an anchor. His friend pulled his way forward to stare grimly up at Thomas.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Mallory,” he said. “We’re just about to head home.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jack looked ten years older, his features drawn and haggard. Yet if there was anyone in the universe Thomas knew he could trust, it was this young pilot. He could guess at the reason for Jack’s somber look, and realized that he might have a cure for it.
“I need to debrief you on the mission,” Thomas said, leaning in close. “And I might need your help in… correcting a bit of data on board.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thomas suddenly realized Jack’s partner hadn’t appeared.
“Where’s Katja?”
Tears appeared in Jack’s eyes. Thomas felt his own heart wrench.
No… He pulled Jack close against the command chair, wrapping an arm around the young man’s shuddering form.
“Three… two… one…” Hayley called. “Jump!”
* * *
Katja watched the tactical screens on the walls, translating the Centauri symbology and tying it to the snippets of reports she could hear nearby. She was still on her knees, hands clasped on her head, but beyond assigning a pair of guards to flank her, the Centauris didn’t seem in much of a hurry to deal with her. Their attention was still very much on the orbital situation. As was hers.
To their credit, the Centauris had acted on her words, and without delay. The second Terran ship had been exactly where she’d
directed them. Indeed, their military response had shocked her with its speed, accuracy, and strength. From what she could make out, the ship had responded effectively at first to evade the attack, but was quickly overwhelmed by the missiles.
Seven different observers confirmed that the Terran vessel had been destroyed.
There was discussion about launching a system-wide alert to hunt down the Terran cruiser which was even now fleeing Abeonan orbit.
“Don’t bother,” Katja said. “She’ll be gone within the hour.”
“We’ll find her,” the senior officer growled.
“No, I mean she won’t be here anymore. She’ll have jumped back to Terra.”
That got their attention.
Moretti turned to Katja, crossing her arms.
“So, Lieutenant Operative Katja Andreia Emmes, why are you telling us all this?”
“Because this mission was wrong. We all do a lot of bad things in war, but nothing can justify what Terra was about to do. I had to stop it.”
“A Terran operative with a conscience? That’s a first.”
Katja looked around at the gazes turning once again in her direction. There was some doubt, still some fear, but most of all an overwhelming hostility. She doubted this day was going to end well—but at least it would end.
“They don’t want us to have consciences,” she said, “and for a while I didn’t. Or at least I ignored it. I can’t do that anymore. Now, because of what I’ve just done, I can never go back.”
“So what,” Moretti scoffed, “you’re switching sides?”
“No. I just want to make you an offer.”
The agents exchanged glances, all four of them gathered around Katja.
“We’re listening,” Moretti said.
“I have the ability to erase everything in my brain—all the classified data, all the plans, all the State secrets with which I’ve been entrusted. We’re designed that way, in case we’re ever captured.” She took a deep breath, moving her eyes from one face to the next. “But I’m willing to give you access to all of it—everything there is in my brain—in exchange for one thing.”
“What?”
“When you’ve extracted everything, I want you to wipe my memories, so that I never again know who I was or what I’ve done. I want nothing to do with this life.”
Moretti’s fists clenched at her sides.
“So you want to just walk away from all your crimes? You want us to pretend they never happened?” The rage burned in Moretti’s eyes. The impotent rage of someone who sought justice, but found only empty vengeance. Katja knew the feeling well. She knew the abyss that hate could burn into a heart.
“Valeria,” she said, “there’s nothing I can do to change what happened. Yes, I killed Kete Obadele—and you killed Suleiman Chang. Yes, Terran forces killed your family in our attack on Abeona—and Centauri forces killed my father in your attack on Earth. We can keep this game going, but I hope you can understand that today, if it wasn’t for me, Terra would have played that game for keeps. Your entire planet would be gone.”
She turned her gaze to the other agents.
“I am willing to surrender all of my classified information to you, and I am willing to have your surgeons remove whatever implants they feel are necessary to render me forever harmless. All I ask is that you let me go in peace.” She remembered Kete’s words to her, when she’d held his life in her hands, and she took one last gamble.
“I’m surrendering myself to your mercy, and to the mercy of the Centauri state.”
Moretti swore quietly, turning away in disgust.
Katja watched the other operatives, and awaited their decision.
34
“Deputy Minister, ten minutes until the summons.”
Breeze ignored the voice of her chief of staff, keeping her eyes on her screen for an extra few moments. She wasn’t reading the words there—she just wanted everyone in her office to see that she moved on her own schedule. She was still getting used to the size of the staff assigned to a deputy minister, and hadn’t bothered to start learning their names yet. They did the grunt work, and she took the credit. That was how things operated now, and she reveled in it.
Finally, and without warning to anyone, she rose from her hand-carved chair and crossed the woven rug for the polished doors. Her assistant scurried to catch up, a pair of flunkies swiftly opening the doors ahead of her.
Life as a senior government official suited her, she decided as she strode down the main corridor toward the Chamber of Parliament, entourage trailing behind. She was never expected to arrive at work before mid-morning, and by then her staff had assembled the day’s briefings. She listened, read and signed as appropriate, and then it would be time for lunch in the exquisite dining room.
As a deputy minister Breeze was usually sought after by other members of Parliament, and over lunch and drinks she would hold court with whomever she felt might be useful to her. The networking opportunities were without equal, and already she had some ideas about how to improve her private portfolio.
Everything in good time, though. She was young, and the world of opportunity lay before her.
By far the most interesting task had been supervising Eric Chandler’s Dark Bomb mission, although word had reached her this morning that the mission had failed. That was the subject of this Parliamentary summons—Breeze was to lead the government’s questioning of the senior surviving officer, and it was with vicious delight that she prepared to interrogate Thomas Kane.
Entering the Chamber she breathed in the cool scents of wood and stone, noting the murmur of voices all around her as the other members took their seats. The session hadn’t been on the schedule, and no doubt many of the members were irritated by the imposition. Breeze intended to direct this ill-will toward Thomas, and let the Parliamentary mob decide his fate.
Taking her seat in the second row, she quickly brought up her notes. From the analysis she’d received, Thomas had directed his ship, Admiral Moore, in a textbook distraction-and-deceit maneuver, drawing Centauri fire while Chandler and Singapore had snuck in to launch the Dark Bomb. It would have been easier if Thomas had made some critical error, but it was results that mattered, and the mission had failed.
Someone had to take the fall.
Since everyone in Singapore was dead, that left Thomas.
Breeze allowed herself a tiny smile.
Christopher Sheridan took his seat across the floor from her, greeting his colleagues but largely absorbed with the upcoming summons. She’d made a few overtures to him this past week, and hoped that his cutting wit would assist her in today’s questioning. Minister of Defense Taal sat down in front of her, turning back to give her an encouraging smile.
“Good luck today,” he said quietly. “Don’t be intimidated by the summoned or the Opposition leaders—they may try to confuse the issue. Stick to the facts of this mission, and stand firm behind the rightness of it. You’re the expert here. This is your first big moment, Charity—make it a memorable one.”
“Thanks, Wes,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to it.”
With a nod he turned back to greet the last of the members who were taking their seats in the first row around the central floor. The doors to the lower corridor opened and, flanked by a pair of guards, Thomas Kane walked out to his podium. Standing tall in his full dress uniform, glittering with rank, medals, and qualifications, he certainly cut an impressive figure—but Breeze looked straight through that to the damaged, conniving, lecherous man she’d known for years. This was going to be fun, and then he was going to die.
She rose from her seat and stepped out onto the floor, knowing she cut an impressive figure in her own right. Her dark dress was modest in hem and neckline, but it hugged her figure in a way she knew would subtly draw the eye. She wore minimal jewellery, but had pinned over her heart a small cluster of military decorations, miniature versions of the real medals and awards appropriate for civilian wear. Her heels were high enou
gh that she barely had to look up to meet Thomas’s eyes.
As she approached, he remained stoic.
“Commander Kane,” she said, hearing her own voice carry through the augments to every corner of the Chamber, “as the commanding officer of the warship Admiral Moore, were you responsible for the protection of the warship Singapore on your recent mission to Abeona?”
“I was.” His voice was loud and steady, head up and eyes meeting hers.
“Then please explain why Singapore was unable to reach her launch point and complete her mission. A mission which, I might add, was deemed of the highest importance to the security of Terra.”
“My ship’s role in the mission was to draw the fire of the Centauri defenses, taking all their attention in order for Singapore to sneak in amid civilian traffic and launch her weapon. I did that, and my ship has the scars to prove it.”
A few appreciative chuckles from the assembly irked Breeze.
“Scars or no,” she countered, “Singapore never reached her launch point and the mission was a failure. Terra has lost a valuable warship, a hero in Admiral Eric Chandler, and a golden opportunity to end this war in a single stroke. As the senior surviving officer, you carry that responsibility.”
“I executed my part of the mission with great effect. The responsibility for its overall success rests with you, Deputy Minister.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the chamber. No one ever talked back like that at a summons. Breeze noticed a few front row members shifting in their seats. All eyes were on her.
“I will remind you of your place, Commander,” she said coldly. “You were charged with executing this mission, and it failed.”
“I executed my orders to the letter. If my orders were flawed, then the responsibility rests higher than me.”
Breeze strolled slowly around the floor, offering a beseeching gesture to the members around her. Thomas obviously intended to fight, so it was time for the drama.
“It appears the commander is invoking the defense of incompetent leadership. I would like to remind the distinguished members of Parliament that the overall commander of this mission was Admiral Eric Chandler, hero of both the Sirius and Centauria campaigns and one of the most renowned tacticians of our times. The weapon Singapore carried was the result of years of development by the top minds in the Astral Force. In my last posting in uniform, I was personally responsible for its development, and I do recall”—she spun to face Thomas—“that I was forced to remove then Lieutenant Commander Kane from his position as executive officer of the research ship in charge of the project.”
March of War Page 33