by PP Corcoran
Patricia screwed up her face and stuck her tongue out at him. "You tell the dear admiral I’ll hold him to that and remind him my boss is his boss and all I have to do is walk along the corridor, knock on her door, and he’ll find himself looking for a new job."
"I shall be sure to use that as my opening line."
"OK, I’ll see you later. Oh and by the way, my parents are in town and we are having dinner with them tonight. Bye."
Before John could reply, she cut the link. Dinner with the in-laws... welcome home, John.
#
CENTRAL COMMAND - MONT SALÈVE – EARTH – SOL SYSTEM
As the briefing room door slid aside, John Radford stepped through and snapped to attention, saluting the Chairman of the Combined Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Ai Jing. From his seat at the head of the spotless gray carbonite table, Jing stood and strode toward John, his hand outstretched. As Jing went to greet John, the other gathered uniformed officers who had already been seated also stood. John spared them a fleeting glance before Jing descended on him. The mix of Human, Persai, Garundan, and Benii uniforms in the room was hard on the eyes, as their various colors clashed, but one thing stood out as common to all: A single black patch with silver wording high on the right shoulder stated that all were part of CSG Itus. Below the wording was a pair of crossed swords in the same silver embroidery.
"Welcome, John. Please be seated, I'm sure you’re eager to hear of your new command’s progress before you take the well-deserved leave you've been promised for so long."
Releasing Jing's hand, John took the indicated seat opposite Jing and waited patiently while the chairman retook his. Without pausing, Jing got straight to the point. "Ladies and gentlemen. After years of design and building we have reached the point where we are ready to take the next step in the Carrier Strike Group concept."
Around the table, all eyes were on Jing. This was something some of them had worked on day and night since Jing first conceived the idea of the CSGs over two years before and they were eager to see the fruit of their labors.
"With the arrival of Admiral Radford, I feel we are at last ready to move on to the final stages of fleet trials. I know Admiral Radford has missed the initial trials due to the unavoidable delay in his being relieved as CO of Third Fleet, but now that he’s here, I want to press on at full speed. The longer it takes to get CSG Itus operational, the longer our colonists will be reliant on the heavy units of our main fleets to protect them and, as you all know, these same fleets are in the process of draw down so their heavy units are becoming scarcer every day."
Jing saw the various species around the table nod in understanding. "With that in mind, I expect CSG Itus to be fully operational in no more than six months from today’s date."
There was a sharp intake of breath around the table and John said, "Aye-aye sir. Six months from today and not a day longer."
Jing stood abruptly, bringing everyone else in the room to their feet. He nodded to John and made his way from the room. As the door closed behind him John, let a lazy smile spread across his face. "OK people, it looks like the clock is ticking and I just made the admiral a promise that it’ll be up to you to keep."
The assembled officers chuckled. Sitting back down John let out a small sigh. Looks like I'm going to be late for dinner. "So, where do we start...?"
CHAPTER TEN
Meet the Neighbors
SS CHARLOTTE DUNDAS - SELENE SYSTEM
272 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
"Captain, call the bridge! Captain, call the bridge!"
"What now?" Captain Lucio Vela grumbled as he dragged himself out of the comfortable seat in the officers’ lounge of the SS Charlotte Dundas. He had been sipping his steaming coffee and looking through the plasteel porthole, observing the gathering clouds on the planet below. Now he headed for the comms panel by the entrance hatch. Vela hated the wrist comms he was supposed to wear at all times so he tended to “forget” to wear it unless a member of the Zurich Lines hierarchy happened to be aboard. These days that was most unlikely, given the difficulties the company was going through. Charlotte Dundas and the other eight Elephant class 250,000 tonnes cargo ships were in high demand these days. Only ships like the Elephant class had the load capacity to carry and sustain complete mining or colonization operations like the one currently taking place on Selene, so they were very rarely in port long enough for the bigwigs to decide to visit.
Keying the comms panel by the entrance hatch, Vela established a link to the Duty Bridge Officer and made no attempt to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Captain speaking. This ought to be good, Givens, or you’re going to be doing night watches for the rest of this cruise."
"Captain, sensors are showing a group of ships closing in on our position from behind the orbit of the planet’s second moon."
Vela’s jaw dropped in surprise. Charlotte Dundas had been in orbit around Selene for over two months now as the embryonic colony on the planet’s surface fought to establish itself. If all went according to plan, then Vela and his ship would remain a further three months and then head home for a quick shore leave and maintenance cycle before heading out with another load of colonists.
"Have you sent them a hail? They could be another colonization operation who haven’t gotten the word yet that we've secured the rights to Selene." Even as he said it, Vela knew he was grasping at straws. It took months to organize a project the size of colonizing another world and before anyone could even start getting the finances together, they had to secure a license from the Bureau of Colonization. They certainly were not going to make the mistake of issuing two licenses for the same planet.
"Yes, sir. So far there’s no response to our hails."
Vela heard the touch of concern in Givens voice. It was no secret that the cargo of a colonization ship like the Charlotte Dundas was worth a small fortune and many a ship’s captain, like Vela, wondered why some enterprising individuals had not yet thought to hijack a ship just like his and sell off the cargo on the black market or ransom the crew.
In the days before the invention of the gravity drive and the war with the Others, the Sol system had had its problems with privateers. A problem the then-small navy of the TDF had struggled to contain. With the invention of the gravity drive, the expansion of the navy, and the surveillance platforms which were seeded throughout the Sol system, the age of the pirate appeared over. Nevertheless, out here, hundreds of light years from home, there was a resurgence of this particularly nasty art.
Yes, if you got a comms drone away in time it could fold and reach Colonial Support Command (CSC) almost instantly. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee there would be a naval vessel in a position to respond immediately. The navy called it overstretch. Vela called it bad planning.
"What’s their ETA?"
"If they maintain their current course and speed they should rendezvous with us in... fifty-eight minutes."
"OK Givens, let’s get a drone away to CSC on Ganymede. Download our logs and sensor data and request immediate assistance. Put an all-hands call out, quietly though, no need to worry the remaining colonists on board just yet. Let’s secure all the outer hatches and tell the master-at-arms to pass out the side arms. Better safe than sorry. I'm on my way to the bridge now. Vela clear."
Vela headed for the bridge, knowing the handful of side arms in the ships armory had little chance of stopping any serious boarding action but it was all he had. For the first time since they arrived at Selene, he wished he were with the colonists who had already set up a base on the windswept planet below.
#
COLONIAL SUPPORT COMMAND - GANYMEDE - SOL SYSTEM
The dull early morning routine in the operations room of what was euphemistically called Colonial Support Command, housed deep in the bedrock of Ganymede, Jupiter's largest moon, was something the duty officer, Lieutenant Pizarro, could have done without. He had been up late the night before celebrating the promotion of his roommate and was feeling a little under
the weather this morning, particularly at the prospect of another long tour in the dim room lit only by subdued lighting and the glow of terminals manned by equally bored sailors.
CSC had been established in response to the wave of colonization that was sweeping the Commonwealth. CSC was tasked with acting as the intermediary between Survey Command, the Bureau of Colonization, and the various shipping firms that were providing the actual colony ships. Hence, some unknown sailor had christened the operations room the “Hub” and the nickname stuck. It had even become part of semi-official parlance. CSC did not actually own any navy ships. If there were a requirement from a colony or shipping line for naval support, the Hub would consider the request, prioritize it, and pass it on to the Office of Joint Naval Operations who again would consider the request, prioritize it, and let CSC know their answer, usually within ten days. Nothing moved fast in the administrative world.
"Drone arrival! It’s transmitting a priority message code, Lieutenant."
The call from the Communications Section brought Pizarro to full wakefulness as adrenalin flooded his system. "Accept the message and pass it to my terminal." Pizarro tapped his desktop repeatedly with his stylus as he waited for the drone’s message to be downloaded and passed to him. As the message header appeared on his screen, his brow furrowed. The SS Charlotte Dundas was not a name he immediately recognized and Pizarro keyed a query into the computer for the stats of the ship and its destination as he continued to read the message. His breath caught in his chest as he reached the part about three unidentified ships on an intercept course for the defenseless colony ship.
"Comms. Flash Signal. Copy the message and logs from the Charlotte Dundas and download it to our drone. Make your destination First Fleet. Add our recommendation for immediate naval support and launch when ready."
A Flash Signal was the highest priority message in the navy. It automatically overrode all other traffic and set alarm bells ringing when it arrived at First Fleet. A big call for a mere lieutenant to make but Pizarro was confident he had taken the correct course of action. Pizarro sat back in his seat, having done all he could. He just hoped help reached the Charlotte Dundas in time.
#
SS CHARLOTTE DUNDAS
SELENE SYSTEM - 272 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
All eyes on the cramped bridge of the Charlotte Dundas were fixed on the main holo cube. Although not as well equipped as a modern naval vessel, Lucio Vela was still immensely proud of his ship and ensured it was kept in tip-top condition. Though it was times like this when he wished she was equipped with military grade sensors.
Vela forced himself to keep a calm exterior as the three unidentified ships closed on his position. Despite repeated hails, the ships continued their approach in total silence. Either they did not understand his hails or they were intentionally ignoring them.
As the ships closed the distance between themselves and the Charlotte Dundas, the merchant ship’s sensors at last got a good read on them. What they revealed made Vela's blood run cold. These were no pirate ships.
Each of the approaching ships was identical and they flew in tight formation. A typical pirate ship was a hotchpotch of converted merchant ships and scrounged or stolen military hardware.
Vela looked at the sleek lines of the ships he was facing. A bulbous bow swept rearward before breaking into five pylons sharply angled away from the main body of the ship. Vela overheard one of the bridge crew liken them to starfish. He could see the resemblance, although these “starfish” were a deep red and likely weighed in at around 70,000 tonnes. Vela's ship could easily outweigh all three of the starfish ships combined, but the grazer points at the end of each of the pylons and the missile tube covers spaced in two rows evenly spread along the main body of each ship meant the Charlotte Dundas' meager point defense system was vastly outmatched.
"They’re slowing, Captain."
Vela checked his repeater display to confirm his navigator’s call. Yes, there was no doubt about it, they had slowed their approach. What the hell were they up to? They were already easily within any conventional weapons range.
The next few minutes seemed to stretch into hours as the three warships slowed and eventually came to a halt less than 100,000 kilometers from the hovering Charlotte Dundas.
"Incoming signal! Audio only."
Vela anxiously leaned forward in his seat. "Let’s hear it."
A strident, un-intonated voice in Standard English filled the bridge. "You have infringed on the territory of the Turak. You will remove yourselves within one rotation of the planet or suffer the consequences."
The bridge was silent for a heartbeat after the message ended, then burst into a cacophony of noise as the whole crew attempted to talk at once.
"Silence!" With Vela’s single command, peace returned.
"Communications. Open a link." Vela swallowed to wet his dry throat as the link was established.
"This is Captain Lucio Vela of the Commonwealth Union of Planets’ starship Charlotte Dundas. We were unaware you have laid claim to this planet. We operate under a license to colonize the planet, issued by the Commonwealth Bureau of Colonization. May we meet to discuss this misunderstanding?"
Silence, interrupted by bursts of static was the only reply. A nod from the comms section senior bosun confirmed the link was still open. The silence stretched on until Vela gave the bosun a throat-slicing motion and the link was terminated.
Think Lucio. Think. One rotation of Selene was around twenty-six hours. Without moving in his seat Vela called out, "Options, Diane?"
Diane Williams, second-in-command of the Charlotte Dundas, uncurled herself from where she was sitting to one side of the bridge watching the unfolding situation and slowly began pacing back and forth across the small bridge, "Before I answer your question, Captain, perhaps it would be wise to consider what we know so far."
"Go on."
"We are facing three warships which our sensors tell us easily outgun us."
"Agreed," Vela replied grimly.
Diane got into her stride, "For whatever reason, they decided to mask their approach by concealing themselves in the shadow of the second moon."
"OK. If I wanted to ambush a ship, I would want to get in as close as possible without being detected. It’s just good tactics."
"True, though that in itself also shows prudence on their part. A reluctance to expose themselves too early."
"Again, Diane, good tactics. They couldn’t have had any idea of our capabilities until they got close enough to get a good sensor read on us and discover we’re only a freighter."
"My point exactly, Captain. They weren't sure what we were until they got closer... so how did they know to hail us in Standard English?"
The silence Vela enforced on the bridge evaporated, he allowed the animated discussion to continue while he grappled with Diane's statement. If you followed her line of thinking, it could only mean the Turak had been observing the Commonwealth for some time but had not made a move until the Charlotte Dundas encroached on their territory. A flick of his wrist signaled Diane to continue.
"Option One. Do nothing. Wait for the navy to arrive and see what happens next."
Vela smiled despite himself. "Somehow I get the feeling the Turak mean business. Next?"
"Option Two. Evacuate the colonists from the planet. Get as many back on board as possible within the time constraints and hightail it out of here."
Vela shook his head slowly, "Diane you know as well as I we have nearly 4500 colonists spread over the entire planet. We simply don't have the lift capability to get all of them and their equipment back on board in time. Is there an option three?"
Diane stopped her pacing directly in front of Vela. As his second-in-command and alter ego, it was her job to lay out all the options. No matter how unpalatable they were. Steeling herself, she forced herself to speak, her voice coming out tautly. "Option Three. Abandon the colonists and head for home."
The shocked expression on the fa
ce of the captain caused any who heard Diane's final option to turn away in distaste.
Vela leaned in close to Diane, fighting to control his anger. "I will not abandon these people to their fate, Diane. I don't care how you do it, you get every last one of them off that rock and back on board. Do you understand me?"
Diane nodded in understanding. Nothing further was needed, the captain had given his orders.
Vela took a deep breath as he regained control of himself. "Communications. Open a link to those ships.” Comms quickly obliged. “This is Captain Vela. I’m about to launch shuttles to recover the colonists. This is not a sign of aggression. I repeat. It is not a sign of aggression, I’m simply doing as you requested. I’ll also launch a communications drone to inform my superiors of your request, there are no weapons onboard and it is of no threat to you. Please acknowledge."
Only stony silence broken by moments of static came from the bridge speakers. Nothing more than Vela expected. He cut the link and addressed his bridge crew, "OK people, we are about to get really busy, really fast. Many angry colonists will be arriving here soon so let’s be as pleasant as we can but remember! We are on the clock. Let's get it done!"
#
The next six hours passed at an accelerated rate as the shuttles raced back and forth between the massive freighter and the surface of Selene in a vain attempt to corral the widespread colonists.
Vela had to admit, Diane performed minor miracles as she planned pick-up points and timetables for the colonists to converge on them on the hoof. All the time under the open mouth of the Turak warships’ guns. It took only one hard look at the numbers in his display to tell Vela everything he needed to know.
Despite Diane’s and the shuttle pilots’ heroic efforts, they simply were not getting the colonists onboard at the breakneck speed they needed to. Current projections overran the Turak deadline by at least nine hours.