by Dietmar Wehr
“I agree with your suggestions, Admiral, but I’m concerned about another FED attack on Sparta or one of the other key members of the Union. Our seven missile boats plus our ground defenses weren’t able to protect the city from an orbital missile barrage. What do we do about that?” asked Belloc.
“I’ve already asked my people that question, Chancellor. Here’s what they came up with. We continue the work on improving the interception capability of our ground-based interceptors but, in addition, we develop a modified version of those interceptors for use on our missile boats so that they can try to intercept enemy missiles before they reach our atmosphere. The counter-missiles are smaller than our standard anti-ship missile, so the boats will be able to carry more of them and fire them faster because they’ll be easier to load.”
“Okay. How quickly can we do that?”
Janicot hesitated. “The answer to that question depends on our priorities, Chancellor. This is the kind of tradeoff that I was referring to a couple of meetings ago. Right now, Sparta does not have an extensive technical base with lots of trained people. We only have a few who are capable of dealing with these challenges. Naturally we’re training more as fast as we can, but that takes time. The trained people we have are stretched thin on several projects, the upgrading of the anti-ship missile guidance system being one of them. If we want work to begin on adapting our AMMs for use by our missile boats, then we’d have to pull some or perhaps all of those technicians off the upgrade project.”
“So if I understand you correctly, what you’re saying is that we can either have an upgraded, ground-based AMM, or a less capable version that can be fired from missile boats, but not both. Is that right, Admiral?” asked Belloc.
“In the short run, yes, Chancellor.”
“Which option would you recommend?”
Janicot didn’t hesitate. “We should adapt our current version for use by our boats. If a missile boat can fire AMMs, then so can our cruisers, and if they can defend themselves against missile attacks, then we really will be able to contemplate more aggressive actions with the cruisers we have now or are likely to get in the near term.”
Belloc turned to Sorensen. “What’s your opinion, Mandy?”
Sorensen shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with Admiral Janicot’s logic. We won’t have new construction ready for at least six more months. Getting the most out of the ships we have now, or might have soon if we can repair the six cripples in orbit, could make a big difference.”
Belloc nodded. “Very well, we’ll put the upgrade project on hold for now but I want it resumed as soon as those technicians are no longer needed for the missile boat adaptation project. Now let’s move on to the next item on the agenda…”
* * *
Day 353/2540
Masterson was waiting outside the room used by the Council when Admiral Chenko emerged.
“So? What did they decide?” asked Masterson.
Chenko grinned. “Whatever influence Commodore Stacker might have had with the Council is now working against him. We don’t know exactly what happened to the other six cruisers when the first two jumped away, but we do know they didn’t return, and it looks very much like Stacker fucked up royally just as I suspected he would. His supporters on the Council are now backpedalling furiously to distance themselves from the Commodore, and they’re very anxious to have me back as the NCoS again. I told them I’d accept the position on the condition that they don’t interfere with the long-term plan that they approved months ago AND that they agree to the proposed prisoner exchange. After a lot of hemming and hawing, they agreed. That means that General Trojan will have a free hand, and I’ll be getting some of my people back.”
Masterson’s face must have revealed his surprise. Chenko nodded. “You’re wondering why I didn’t try to have the Navy take over the implementation, right?” Masterson nodded. “Well I didn’t do it out of friendship. You and I will never be friends, but we respect each other, and we both believe that the Federation has to put down this rebellion to survive. Stacker’s fiasco just demonstrated what I already suspected, which is that the Navy is short of flag officers who are both competent and can put aside their egos when necessary. General Trojan strikes me as that kind of officer. I’d rather have a competent Army General as the overall Field Commander than an incompetent Admiral. Most of my officers would disagree, so in order to prevent a mutiny, if you quote me on that I’ll deny it, okay?”
Masterson laughed. “Okay. How soon do you expect the prisoner exchange to take place? There will probably be some army people coming back too.”
Chenko shook his head. “I’d just be guessing at this point, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon, not with messages taking months each way. The Council is leaving it up to me to figure out the details, so I’m thinking that freighters from both sides land on a planet that’s roughly half way. That being the case, we’ll have to send them that suggestion, wait for their response, then if they agree we can send a ship, so we’re looking at a minimum of seven months best-case scenario.”
“Yes, that figures. So what happens in the meantime?” asked Masterson.
“Absolutely nothing on our side in terms of hostile action. We just don’t have the capability. Any new ships added to the fleet over the near term will just help us get back to where we were before the Stacker fiasco, and we need those ships just to hold on to the planets that haven’t jumped ship yet. General Trojan has got to get the Franklin Tri-system up and running as fast as possible. We can’t even begin to get serious about taking back the initiative until he does that.”
“He knows that, Sergei. The first shipment of infrastructure equipment is just about ready to go.”
Chenko sighed. “You know, Frank, as a student of history, I’m gradually coming around to the view that the Federation is just too big to be administered centrally, given the long transit times. We have to deal with about the same kind of communication lag that the old British Empire had in the age of sailing ships, but they were able to hang on to their empire mostly because their ships and officers were better than anyone else’s. We don’t have that advantage, so we’re going to have to preserve the Federation by brute force, because that’s all we have. If we don’t put down this rebellion, more and more planets will secede until we’re a Federation on paper only. So I see the necessity of what we’re doing, but I just wish that every move didn’t have to take months to execute!”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that you’ve spelled it out, I see your point,” said Masterson.
“Oh well, it is what it is. I’m going back to my old office now. I can’t wait to see the faces on my staff when they find out that The Old Man is back again! See you later, Frank.”
Chapter Thirteen
Day 74/2541
Janicot woke to the sound of an incoming call.
“Accept audio only,” he said.
“Mykhel, sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but I thought you’d like to hear the news.”
Janicot recognized the voice as belonging to Belloc. “Go ahead, Chancellor.”
“A FED courier has just arrived in-system and transmitted their response to our prisoner exchange proposal. They’ve agreed to it without conditions or reservations, and they’re proposing that the exchange take place on a date to be set by us, on the fourth planet in a star system half way between Sparta and Earth. My staff tells me that the fourth planet has a rocky plateau that’s the only landmass on the whole planet. The rest is all water. Each side will send one unarmed ship. When both ships have landed, the prisoners will walk to the other ship at the same time.”
“That’s good news, Sir. I’ll get my people to arrange for a ship to take back our reply as soon as possible.”
“Very good, Mykhel. I hope you’ll be able to get back to sleep.”
The click told Janicot that Belloc had hung up. He thought briefly of trying to go back to sleep but decided that wasn’t going to happen, and if he
was going to be up at this hour of the night, he might as well get things moving on the exchange sooner rather than later. It was with a certain amount of glee that he told his computer to call his Aide.
* * *
Day 175/2541
Former Navy Lieutenant Bret Murphy pressed the buzzer and waited.
“Who is it?”
The female voice had a suspicious tone to it. Murphy grinned. “You ordered a gigolo?”
He heard a chuckle followed by, “It’s about time you showed up. Enter.”
The computer-controlled door slid open. Murphy stepped into the dark room and looked around. He saw the silhouette of a woman’s body against the low, indirect lighting behind her. He waited until the door slid shut.
“I made sure no one followed me. Did you?” said Murphy.
“I was very careful. Since this is going to be our last time for a while, I slipped on something special.”
She stepped closer. There was barely enough light for him to see that she was wearing a tight-fitting, practically transparent garment with strategically placed dark patches.
“Very nice. Now come here, Captain,” ordered Murphy.
Army Captain Cate Foster giggled again. “Your wish is my command, Lieutenant.”
An hour later, they were catching their breath, lying on the bed with their arms around each other.
“So it’s official then?” he asked.
Foster sighed. “Yes, the SSU has accepted the proposed rendezvous point, and they’ve set the date for 63 days from now. That means our ship will have to leave in 72 hours. The call for volunteers will hit the media channels tomorrow morning. That’s why I said this will probably be the last time we see each other before you leave.”
“Unless you resign and come with me,” he said softly.
“Don’t make it any harder than it already is. You know as well as I do what an opportunity this is for the Union. Even though I was raised on Hekla, the fact that I was born on Earth and that I’m in the Army has allowed me to fall through the cracks insofar being vetted by verifier. Add to that the fact that I’m assigned to the Joint Army/Navy Planning Group, and that means I’ll have access to the Federation’s most important secrets almost as fast as the Chiefs of Staff. How can we throw that away by me resigning?”
“I know. But it’ll be hard waiting months, maybe even years, on the other side of the front line, not knowing if you’re okay or not.”
“Same here, babe. As long as I don’t have to undergo the verifier test, I should be okay, but I’ll be wondering what the Union will have you doing. I hate the thought of you being an officer on a Union navy ship being shot at by FED ships. Do you think there’s any way you could come back here on a freighter without the FEDs noticing?”
“You mean on a regular freighter run from a Federation planet that’s willing to trade with the Union?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would have to be something like that, but that’ll only work until Trojan sets up the joint Fleet/Army Force HQ on Hadley, which is scheduled to be in about 18 months. Maintaining contact after that will be damned difficult.”
He took his time answering. “If I were to come, it would put me AND you in danger if I’m discovered. I think the only way to send messages back and forth would be by using someone the FEDs don’t know about, as a courier.”
“Damn.” She said it softly but with meaning.
He said nothing as he stroked her naked back. After several minutes of mutual silence, he said, “I can’t stay as long as I usually do, babe. If you’ve got anything new for me to carry back, now’s the time.”
“Oh shit, I forgot. You won’t be able to carry anything back except what’s in your head. All Union prisoners and volunteering sympathizers will have to undergo a very rigorous search before they get on the ship. If the FEDs find anything incriminating, the smuggler will be arrested and tried as a spy. I don’t want you to risk that. When the courier is set up, he or she can carry the data chips back. You should get rid of the ones you have now as soon as you get back to your place.”
“Damn! The technical data on their Oracle computer alone might make a huge difference.”
“I know, but it’s too risky. Promise me you won’t try to smuggle it out.”
After hesitating, he said, “I promise.” He checked the time on her chronometer. “Guess what we have just enough time to do before I have to go?”
She gave him a deep, throaty chuckle. “If it’s what I think it is, I get to be on top this time!”
They both laughed as she moved to straddle him.
63 days later:
Drake stepped off the boarding ramp with the others and got in line. He cursed the high humidity. The freighter crew claimed the outside temperature was mid 80s, but it felt like it was over 100. No wonder the planet had never been colonized. This plateau wasn’t big enough to house more than a few thousand people, and there was no farm land at all. Any colonists would have had to resort exclusively to aqua-culture for food. He looked in the distance and saw the freighter sent by the Union. Unlike freighters belonging to Federation-based shipping companies, like the one the FED Navy had charted to bring them here, the Union freighter had the SSU symbol painted in bold red on its hull. When all the prisoners and volunteers had lined up at the base of the ramp, the FED Officer in charge used a bullhorn to give them last-minute instructions.
“NOBODY MOVES UNTIL I SAY SO. WHEN I GIVE THE GO AHEAD, YOU’LL START WALKING AT A MODERATE PACE. STAY TO THE RIGHT OF THE GROUP COMING THE OTHER WAY. NO COMMUNICATING WITH ANYONE COMING THE OTHER WAY. ONCE YOU’RE PAST THE OTHER GROUP, YOU CAN DO AS YOU PLEASE.”
Drake heard similar instructions being given to the other group by someone from that ship. He watched the other ship and saw a flashing green light at the base. That must have been a signal to start.
“BEGIN WALKING,” said the officer.
Drake quickly realized that the instruction to walk at a moderate pace had been entirely unnecessary. The plateau had looked flat enough seen from the top of the boarding ramp, but the ground was actually pretty rough, with broken layers of stone to step carefully on or over. It was going to be difficult to look up in order to make eye contact with Lor without tripping over something.
As the other group got closer, he slowed a bit so that he could take frequent glances at them without falling down. There she was! She was having the same problem that he was. There weren’t going to be any long looks between them. Waving was probably not a good idea either. She was getting closer, but every time he glanced at her, she was looking down at the ground, and he was sure the reverse was also true. He decided to step out of line, stop and pretend to be adjusting the fit of his boots. As he went through the mechanical motions, he looked at Lor. She was finally looking back at him, if only for a second, and there was a slight smile on her face. He thought that he detected a slight nod too. He nodded back.
“KEEP MOVING!”
Drake was sure that was intended for him. It didn’t matter. She was past him now. He got up and resumed walking. As soon as they were past the end of the other group’s line, his line dissolved. Those who were sure-footed enough walked faster, while others kept to their own pace.
They had to line up again when they reached the boarding ramp of the Union ship. He could see Union Navy officers who were asking each person for name, place of birth or residence, and other personal information. No doubt everyone would have to undergo a verifier test just to preclude the possibility of FED spies. He looked around to make sure that every crewmember from the Valley Forge was accounted for. When he got to the front of the line, the officer requested his personal information.
“Roland Drake, born on Sparta. I’m a Commander in the SSU Navy and CO of the cruiser Valley Forge. My crew are all here as well.”
The officer looked at him carefully. “We were told you might be returning. Welcome back, Commander.” He handed Drake an ID chit produced from the handheld device he was using. “Next!”
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59 days later:
Murphy stepped up to the table where two Union Navy NCOs were seated. He handed them his ID chit, which one of them inserted into a data tablet.
“Lieutenant Bret Murphy,” said the NCO whose nametag read O’Reilly.
“That’s right, Chief.”
“What was your former assignment, Lieutenant?”
Murphy took note of the fact that the Chief didn’t have to refer to him by his former rank but did so as a courtesy. “I was a liaison officer to the Army Logistics Division.”
O’Reilly nodded. “I’m sure the Union Navy can use you, but you’ll have to pass the verifier test, you understand.”
“Of course, Chief, but I also have some information that I think the Senior Naval Officer will want to hear about. Can you arrange for me to meet with him?”
O’Reilly exchanged glances with the other Chief. Murphy understood that look. It was the kind of look that NCOs shared with each other when they had to be polite to an officer whom they considered to be full of shit.