“What if this was employed against another ship, Lieutenant?” One of the captains present asked.
“Firing the mass driver takes more than just tapping a fire button. It uses the same energy capacitors as the FTL system. Charging it up takes several minutes under ideal circumstances. If you can get the ship to hold still while you do that, and somehow fail to obliterate it with all the pulsed plasma canons, it would inevitably be annihilated. The level of kinetic energy transfer is incredibly high. It would take me about an hour just to show you the math to calculate the destructive yield against a ship in space. Suffice it to say it would be like hunting a song bird with a nuclear missile.”
Brand said, “An impressive presentation, Lieutenant. Are there any further questions?” A moment of silence passed, and Brand continued, “If you will excuse us, we will discuss the potential composition and build priority of the proposed designs. Thank you, Miss Simmons.”
“Thank you for your time, everyone,” Simmons said before departing the room.
Aboard the Rampart, Aden Patho worked on the bridge, readying the new drones for deployment to the alliance base. The new drones were spectacular. He had been running simulations all morning with his division, getting everyone up to speed on the new drone's capabilities. He was about to begin a new run, letting all of his enlisted men try their hand at taking him on alone when his comm beeped at him. He tapped the accept key and said, “Patho.”
“Sir,” said the voice on the other end, “This is Corporal Frez. There is a Theo Cobb here to see you, sir. He has clearance, but I wanted to inform you. He looks pretty serious.”
“Well done, Corporal. Admit him and have him escorted to the port observation room. Let him know I'll join him in a few minutes.”
“Aye, sir,” The comm beeped off.
Patho gathered his thoughts for a moment and then tapped his comm again. “Patho to Commodore Stokes.”
There was a pause of nearly a minute before the commodore answered. “What can I do for you, Mister Patho?”
“Sir, Agent Cobb is aboard. He has asked to see me. I had him escorted to the port observation room.”
“I'll meet you there, Commander. Do not go in without me.”
“Aye, sir.” the comm beeped again. Patho headed to the observation room and waited for Commodore Stokes to arrive. After a restless couple of minutes, the commodore walked out of the nearby lift.
“Commander, whatever Cobb has to say, it isn't good news for you. As your commanding officer, I strongly advise you to say as little as possible. If I think he is making an unwarranted accusation or statement, I'll jump in. Don't let this man back you into a corner.”
“Aye, sir,” Patho said.
Stokes nodded and preceded Patho into the room. Seated inside was Agent Cobb and a Marine private who had been detailed to escort the visitor.
“You're dismissed, private,” Stokes said. The marine saluted sharply and left the room. Patho heard him taking station just outside the door.
Cobb said, “Mister Patho, I wanted to speak to you again regarding the attack on Lashmere Naval Headquarters. The attack has officially been declared an act of terrorism. Fortunately, this gives me far broader powers of investigation compared to when it was merely an unexplained attack.”
“What evidence do you have that made it a terrorist attack,” Patho asked.
“Evidence left from the explosive makes it clear it is of Karn origin,” Cobb said. He then took out a data pad and tapped at it, bringing the view screen to life.
“Your contact with your brother has been sporadic, but there is a flurry of activity from his personal comm node to an unknown receiver just before the attack. We've located the person who owned that unknown comm node.”
“And who is that?” Aden asked. A ball of ice formed in his stomach as Cobb turned his maddeningly flat stare towards him.
“You, of course. Your cabin is being searched as we speak. Once we locate the comm node, you'll be taken into custody.”
Stokes said, “If the comm node isn't found in his cabin, what then, agent?”
“I want to know why you assisted your brother in carrying out this attack, commander,” Cobb said, completely ignoring Stokes. “Was your purpose to decapitate the Lashmere Navy?” Cobb's face took on an ugly sneer of contempt. “Or was it simply the fact that you couldn't live with taking orders from your betters?”
“Agent Cobb!” Stokes stood and shouted. His voice filling the room like an echo chamber. “You will stand down immediately. I've tolerated your bigotry up to this point. That time is now over. If your search turns up any substantive evidence, your investigation can proceed, but I will not allow you to condemn an honorable officer like Mister Patho without evidence of complicity in this attack.”
Cobb finally turned his attention to Stokes. “Your position doesn't make you immune from suspicion, commodore. Should I find you either implicitly or explicitly facilitating Patho's actions, I'll have you on a conspiracy charge so fast, your executive officer won't remember your name a week later.”
Stokes' face turned from its normally animated collection of features to a carved granite mask. Stokes' brown eyes bored into Cobb's with an intensity that made Patho want to run out of the room. “Agent, you have ten seconds after your search is complete to be off of my ship. Until you have a real charge to make, I'm going to file an official inquiry with Lashmere Command to find out how you managed to weasel your way into a legitimate search warrant on an active duty spacecraft. If I find any kind of wrongdoing or misrepresentation of any so called 'facts' you've discovered, you can rest assured that there will be a full inquiry from command.”
The two men stared hard at one another. Patho resisted the urge to call in the Marines. After a moment, the comm on Cobb's wrist beeped. “Cobb,” the agent said.
A voice came out of the small wrist mounted computer. “Patho's cabin is clear, agent. Do you want to conduct a search of the entire ship?”
Patho felt his stomach unknot. Relief flooded through his senses. He looked at Stokes, who was still staring hard at Cobb.
Cobb said, “No, a search of the whole ship would take weeks, and we can't disrupt their operational schedule. We'll have to get it done another way.” Cobb tapped his comm and then said, “Well, Mister Patho, it looks like you had a bit more forethought than we estimated. If you tell us where you hid your illegal comm, we can get this over with and let Rampart carry on its mission without you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have an illegal comm.”
“Are you really trying to say you still deny your involvement? Your entire family is in this up to their eyeballs. We know you have something to do with it. Further denials will only make the justice harder when it's meted out.”
Stokes thrust himself out of his chair and roared, “Agent Cobb! Get the hell off my ship! Now!”
Cobb looked up at Stokes with an expression one might expect of a parent watching a particularly precocious child. “Commodore, your attitude is wholly unproductive, I-”
Cobb didn't get any further in his sentence. Stokes strode around the table, grabbed Cobb by his shirt and hauled him bodily out of the chair he had been sitting in. Where he had yelled before, this time his voice was barely above a whisper. “Off my ship now, agent. Don't return without a real reason. I've had enough of your innuendo and suspicion of Commander Patho just because his family is a bunch of reactionary fools.” Stokes released the agent, who settled back onto his feet but did not sit back down. Stokes said, “Marine, get in here.”
The door opened, and the marine private came in and said, “Yes, sir?”
“Agent Cobb and his detail are leaving. Escort this man directly to the boarding tube. He is not to make any side trips, detours or stops along the way. Directly off the ship. If he resists, place him under arrest and throw him in the brig.”
The Marine snapped to attention and said, “Yes, sir.” He took Cobb's arm and began to propel the agent fr
om the room.
Cobb shook the Marine off and said, “You're making a mistake here, Commodore. Making me an enemy is a very poor choice.” The Marine grabbed his arm again and pushed the Cobb out of the room, the agent reluctantly cooperating with the young marine.
Patho's head was spinning. “Sir, I... I mean, thank you, sir.”
Stokes turned and gave Patho a wink. “You think he thought I was out of control, there, commander?”
Patho's mouth practically unhinged itself he was so surprised at the sudden change in the commodore's demeanor. “Sir? I mean, uh, you wanted him to think you were out of control?”
“Exactly. The less rational he thinks I am and the more reactionary he thinks I am, the more likely he is to disregard any actions I might take. Right now, he thinks he has the high ground, but I'm betting he has some very thin evidence that he over leveraged to get the warrant to search your cabin. When I make my complaint to the admirals, he's in for some tough questions.”
“Sir, I don't know what to say. Thank you.” Patho found himself in a quandary. His revulsion and anger at Cobb and the ideas his words represented made him feel like an outsider, even here on the ship, but Stokes had always been on his side. The commodore's refusal to give credence to Cobb's suspicions and baseless accusations gave him hope that there might be a future for him in the Lashmere Navy after all.
Stokes nodded at him and then said, “Take the rest of the day off, Aden. Do something frivolous. Get your mind off of the Navy and off of Cobb. Comm me if you need tomorrow as well. I can also recommend a good counselor if you want to talk to someone. It can help sometimes.”
“Thank you, sir. I'll consider it. And thank you for the time off.”
“You've been raked over the coals with this, Commander. It's unfair and unreasonable, what Cobb's doing. I don't want this having an effect on your career. I'll see you in a day or two, commander.” Stokes walked out of the room, his still healing leg giving his stride a slight hitch as he walked.
Patho sat silently, staring out of the observation port. He'd just realized it, but the ports on this side of the ship gave a fantastic view of the big manufacturing ring with Lashmere in the background. He tried to get his churning thoughts under control, but his emotions were all over the place. Rage and hatred for Cobb. Gratitude and respect for Stokes. He found himself thinking of Marli after a little bit. She was the first Ebrim who'd paid any personal attention to him. Her capricious nature unsettled him at times, and he often wondered if she remembered he existed when he wasn't in her line of sight. He shook his head and started for his cabin to pack up things for an overnight stay. He was going to a hotel on the surface for the night, he decided. Someplace luxurious and expensive. With luck, a bit of pampering would help take his mind off of things.
Chapter 12
Captain Erickson was pacing back and forth on the bridge again. Her nerves were frayed after the long trip back to Lashmere. The trip hadn't been a comfortable one. Every day, Erickson had played the events of L262 over and over in her mind. The failure of alliance intelligence, the crab counterattack, and the sheer size of the crab fleet was terrifying. Several attempts to send a signal into the Lashmere system had failed. Erickson wasn't sure if there was something wrong with her comm system despite three complete diagnostic checks and multiple assurances that it had been operating flawlessly or if there was something wrong in the Lashmere system itself. She glanced at the navigational display. She'd have her answers soon enough. They were scheduled to drop out of FTL just outside Lashmere in a few minutes.
Time slowed to a crawl, watching the counter run its course. Quiet orders passed back and forth between her officers, managing routine operations of the ship and making the preparations for sublight speeds. She jumped a bit when her executive officer said, “We're on approach, captain. Dropping to sublight now.” He turned his attention to the helmsman and said “Activate sublight engines. Drop out of FTL, helm.”
“Get full tactical scans of the system, exec,” Erickson said. Her heart started to thud harder in her chest. She worried about what the crabs could do to her home if they'd attacked in the kind of force used at the alliance base.
“Scan looks clean, ma'am. Getting an instant comm request from Naval Command.”
“Put it up, exec.” She brushed chocolate brown hair, grown far longer than was normally acceptable for military regulations, from her eyes. Straightening in the command chair, she was surprised when she saw her friend and mentor, Captain Misato, appear on the screen. No that wasn't correct, he was wearing the large golden stars of admiral rank now.
“Captain. Welcome home. We're a bit surprised to see you here. What brings you here so soon?”
Erickson gave Misato a brief overview of the situation. Including the destruction of the ships in L262.
Misato's eyes hardened for a moment, and Erickson knew he was refusing to ask about his daughter, who'd been killed on the Rapier. “Sir, your daughter was aboard the Rapier when it was destroyed. They were incredibly brave.”
Misato nodded, his eyes glimmered with unshed tears for a moment before the man took firmer control of his emotions. “We'll have time to mourn later, Captain. For now, we will have to brief the full board of admirals and make a decision on how to proceed. You are clear to dock at berth seven. Make your best time, send us your ETA. You have a very long day ahead of you, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.” The comm channel closed and Erickson had her crew push the Saber to its highest sublight speed.
Two days passed with the admirals in conference with the vice president and the counselor of war. Rook and Rampart were ready to depart on their joint shakedown to test out new systems when Commodore Stokes was called in to Admiral Coffee's office. Stokes took a shuttle for Rampart's boat bay rather than waiting for one of the shuttles from the space dock. Half an hour later, he found himself standing outside the admiral's door. He tapped the entrance chime, and the door slid open a few seconds later.
Admiral Coffee and Admiral Misato were in the office. Coffee spoke, “Commodore, please come in.”
“Thank you, sir.” Stokes strode into the well appointed office. He saw there was a small conference table in the room. Coffee motioned him to sit at one of the chairs surrounding the small table. Stokes seated himself and waited attentively for the admiral to gather his notes and join him. Paper rustled along with the small data pad as they were placed on the deep brown table. Stokes rubbed the wood grain absently as he waited for whatever the admiral was planning on saying.
After a short shuffling of papers, the admiral began to speak. “Thank you for your patience, commodore. As you are no doubt aware, the expeditionary force, or what's left of it, has returned to Lashmere. The force was completely wiped out by a massive crab force. After action analysis seems to indicate that the crabs were able to anticipate the targets selected by Admiral Drogue and Captain Hanlon.”
Stokes interjected, talking right over the admiral, “Are they okay? Admiral Drogue and Captain Hanlon?”
“They don't appear to have survived, Commodore. The Broadsword, which is what they had named their command ship, was destroyed along with three more of the ships the alliance had assigned to them. The only people who survived are Captain Erickson and her crew. She related the battle to me personally, and it appears the crabs set a very carefully planned trap for them. The five ships assigned to the expeditionary force were met by just under a thousand warships. This kind of overkill is rather unsettling. We're still trying to figure out the significance of this kind of fleet movement.”
“I see, sir.” Stokes fought to control his emotions. Hanlon had been an outstanding officer and her loss, along with the loss of Admiral Drogue represented a tremendous blow to the Lashmere Navy. Sighing, Stokes continued, “What are we planning then, sir?”
“There has been a great deal of deliberation among the admirals. We have come to several decisions over the last few days. The first is that a fleet sufficient to stop any crab or a
lliance encroachment in the Lashmere system must be built. We cannot and will not surrender to either of these forces. In order to meet them with something like parity, we've devised a build schedule that will take several months. Once it is complete, our order of battle will be superior to any force we've so far observed.”
“What kind of force are we planning on, then?”
“We've gone with a mixed force. We had several goals we decided were unavoidable. The first concern we have is that the crabs will mass their entire fleet against us in one move. Their ships number at least two thousand in total. They may have other forces we haven't observed so far. The sensor logs from the Saber indicate that many of their ships are small, much smaller than Rampart. The two that Rampart fought a few months ago were among their largest ships. Lashmere intelligence has divided the ships up into four rough categories. They've been designated escorts, frigates, destroyers and battleships. They don't appear to have anything between destroyers and battleships like cruisers, battlecruisers or assault cruisers. Their attack philosophy seems to be complete overkill in all circumstances.
“As a result of the kind of force the crabs deploy, we've decided to go very heavy with our assault cruiser design. More than half the ships we produce will be the assault cruiser design. These ships should have enough power to take on crab battleships when they are in two to one engagements. A single assault cruiser has a fifty-fifty chance of taking a crab battleship alone based on observed firepower and defensive capabilities Captain Erickson brought us. Survivability in a bad engagement is very high as all of the ship designs we've come up with have far better acceleration curves and maneuverability compared to observed crab ship capabilities.”
A Faded Star Page 25