Lots of pretty words.
More what he’d expect from Sun in his day. But the expression behind them, the tone. There was a true pledge there, a firm handshake in Wei’s voice he’d never heard from the man’s predecessor.
“Mr. Premier—I appreciate your willingness to help. Might I ask that we keep this dialogue open? The war has come back to humanity’s doorstep. The time might come, and very soon, that we all either stand together or fall apart.”
Wei’s somber expression softened. “I studied Lincoln too, Mr. President. At Rutgers. Yes, of course. In the future, I will … answer sooner.”
Quentin nodded, allowing a half grin to show. “Thank you for your time, Premier Wei. I look forward to that call.”
Wei nodded, and the viewscreen went dark.
“He’s lying, sir,” Torres said as soon as it did. “No leader in the history of China has ever been that forthcoming or transparent. They wouldn’t stay leader for long if they did.”
“Is he lying, Kyla? I’m not convinced.”
“The weight of history, sir.”
Well, there was that. What was that old truism from psychology? The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. Then again, predictors weren’t guarantees.
“I’m more concerned about the future, Kyla,” said Chamberlain. His eyes wandered over a decanter of Reserve nestled in a small bookshelf across the room, lingered, then lit on the face of his national security advisor. “Let’s give him a little time to settle into his new job before we decide he’s lying.”
Torres shifted uncomfortably. “Well, at least the Russians are on our side.”
Quentin considered the feeling those words evoked in him. The Russians were sending ships, it was true, though they seemed to be taking forever to reach Britannia. The Chinese weren’t. And yet, he trusted Wei and his earnest intentions more after one conversation than he did Ivanov’s genuine commitment of military forces after years of getting to know the man.
“Yes, there’s that.” Chamberlain looked Torres in the eye. “For what it’s worth.”
Chapter 21
Britannia Sector
Churchill Station, Upper Orbit, Britannia
Briefing Room
As she took her seat at the defendant’s desk, Halsey scanned the officers of the review panel. There was Kilgore, of course, serving as judge. And the jury of her command-rank peers—Avery, Preble, Pierce, and William Vickers, captain of Kilgore’s flagship Intrepid. A mix of silver-haired legends and young starship captains fresh off the line, all arrayed in full dress uniform. But it wasn’t the momentous occasion or fear of being busted out of the service or even imprisonment that threatened to crack her composure. It was seeing Avery and Preble there.
A formal hearing required three officers of command rank to sit the panel. Commodore Wheatley had followed his personnel to Mars, though any one of the dozen or so destroyer captains now at Churchill Station could have joined Vickers and Pierce. But, over Pierce’s objections of conflict of interest, Kilgore had allowed Avery and Preble to join instead. Neither had slept since returning from the rout of Outpost Heroic One. Preble seemed exhausted.
Admiral Pierce reached out with a small hammer and tapped a brass bell three times. “This general court-martial is now in session.” Pierce’s tone was very formal, very British. “Commander Sacks, if you’ll read the charges, please.”
Before the prosecutor could do so, Commander Olsen, aide to Admiral Kilgore and Halsey’s counsel, rose and addressed Kilgore directly. “If it pleases the court, we’ll waive the reading in hopes of expediting procedure. I’m not sure the Swarm has the patience for propriety.”
Pierce began to bluster, but Kilgore nodded. “The court appreciates your indulgence, Commander.” She turned to Sacks. “Prosecutor, make your case. And get on with it. Only the enemy gains by our drawing this out.”
“Very well, ma’am,” said Sacks, standing. “I really only want to question Captain Halsey, and briefly.”
“Proceed.”
“Captain Halsey, if you’ll stand and raise your right hand?” said Sacks. “Do you solemnly swear that the evidence and testimony you provide to this court will be truthful to the best of your knowledge?”
“I do.”
“Very well. I’ll keep this simple, Captain. During the action at Wellington Shipyards, did Admiral Pierce order you to maintain your position in defense of Britannia rather than q-jump to engage the Swarm at Wellington?”
“He did.”
“Did you disobey that order, Captain?”
Addison focused on the wall behind the officers sitting at the table in front of her.
“I did.”
Pierce grunted.
“Were you in your right mind at the time, Captain?” asked Sacks.
Halsey blinked. “What?”
The prosecutor cleared his throat. “It was a simple question, Captain. Were you somehow mentally or otherwise impaired when you made the decision to disobey Admiral Pierce’s order? Did the stress of the situation somehow influence your—”
“No, it did not!”
Sacks paused. “Would you say you have a hot temper, Captain? Are you keen to act without thinking?”
A fit of coughing interrupted her before she could answer. Avery excused herself to the rest of the panel. She knows me too well, thought Halsey, silently thanking Sam for giving her a moment to carefully consider her next words.
“I have sometimes been accused of that,” she said evenly. “But never as it relates to my command deci—”
“Thank you, Captain. No more questions, Admiral,” said Sacks, sitting down promptly.
Kilgore’s gaze lingered on the prosecutor before turning to her aide. “Commander Olsen?”
He stood up. “Captain Halsey, you’ve admitted disobeying a direct order from the commanding officer of this sector. I have just one question for you. Why?”
Olsen had told her in their prep work the night before what he intended to ask. He’d helped her shape her response. She had the impolitic tendency, he’d told her, of being too goddamned honest and to the point. Because the order was idiotic was not an acceptable response.
“Endeavour was severely outgunned and would’ve been destroyed. And then the Swarm would’ve reached Britannia for certain, and we likely could not have stopped them toe to toe.”
“You believed you’d lose a straight-up fight with the Swarm force if they made it all the way to Britannia, with just Invincible and Independence and Churchill’s defenses to face them?”
“Objection!” said Sacks. “Who’s testifying here?”
“Sustained,” said Kilgore. “Commander Olsen, let her speak for herself, please.”
“Apologies, Your Honor. Captain, do you credit your intrasystem q-jump and surprise attack on the enemy with giving you and Captain Preble the edge in stopping the Swarm?”
“I do.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” said Sacks, rising again. “What might or might not have happened after Captain Halsey disobeyed Admiral Pierce’s order is irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” said Olsen. “I’d remind my colleague that without Captain Halsey’s decisive action, we likely wouldn’t have a courtroom to try her in.”
“Objection!”
“Gentlemen,” Kilgore interrupted. “Mr. Olsen, what’s the purpose of this line of inquiry?”
“Getting to that ma’am.”
“Well, hurry up.”
“Your Honor—”
“Stow it, Mr. Sacks. I’ve ruled.”
The prosecutor sat down as Olsen cleared his throat.
“You’ve answered a question, Captain, but you haven’t really answered the one I asked. Why did you disobey Admiral Pierce’s order?”
Halsey hesitated. This is where it got uncomfortable, every time she’d rehearsed it. This is where they had to roll the dice way outside the box. Because by strict interpretation of the military code, she was guilty as hell.
“B
ecause in my judgment, his order was….”
“Captain?” prompted Olsen.
“Unlawful,” she finished.
Silence descended on the room, as if the panel strained to recapture her words with their ears, to make sure they’d heard her right.
“That’s preposterous!” exploded Pierce, pounding his fist on the table. The ceremonial bell in front of him hummed with the impact.
Sacks, who seemed as flummoxed as any of them, finally recovered himself. “Objection, Your Honor! Unlawful on what grounds?”
The room quieted down again, save for Pierce’s heavy breathing.
“Captain?” prompted Olsen. “On what grounds did you consider Admiral Pierce’s orders unlawful?”
Addison swallowed into a dry throat. “On the grounds that following them would’ve cost the lives of billions of Britannians.”
“Outrageous!” Pierce stood so fast, the table screeched over the floor away from him. “This woman willfully disobeyed me and is now cloaking mutiny under some trumped-up excuse—”
“Sit down, Admiral Pierce!” said Kilgore.
“Admiral, this is unacceptable! My family has been in the naval service for generations! I will not sit here and listen to her malign my character—”
“You will sit down, Admiral Pierce! That’s an order!”
Red faced and blustering, Pierce stood a moment longer, his eyes spearing Halsey through and through, before collapsing into his chair.
“Admiral … members of the jury panel….” Sacks was clearly making an effort to speak slowly. “I think we all see what’s going on here. Captain Halsey—and her learned counsel—know very well that the only reason the Military Code of Justice allows for disobeying a direct order from a superior officer is if that order is deemed unlawful. This is Captain Halsey’s desperate and transparent attempt to avoid a dishonorable discharge and incarceration. A subordinate cannot simply decide they will not follow an order because they don’t think they’ll like the outcome.”
“Won’t like the outcome?” said Olsen. “Is there anyone here that would like to see the outcome of billions of dead civilians on Britannia?”
“That’s conjecture!” said Sacks. “No one can know for sure that would’ve been the result of Admiral Pierce’s order to maintain position.”
“Thanks to Captain Halsey,” said Olsen, injecting his words with gratitude.
“Objection!”
Kilgore held up her hand again and addressed the defendant directly. “Captain Halsey, is this what you truly believed? That Admiral Pierce’s orders would have resulted in the destruction of Britannia? Because, Captain, from where I’m sitting, Commander Sacks’ argument is the best one I’ve heard so far. This sounds like an excuse for mutiny.”
Addison looked Kilgore in the eye. “Ma’am, it was my judgment that the admiral’s orders would not only have resulted in the destruction of Britannia, but also the Shipyards and Churchill Station—vital military assets in the war with the Swarm.” She turned her eyes to the silent Pierce, whose rippling cheek and clenched fists spoke for him. “I do not say this to malign the admiral’s character or his family’s honorable history of military service. But yes, it’s what I believe.”
Kilgore exhaled loudly. “This is your defense, then?” she asked Olsen. She sounded disappointed, as if she’d expected more of him. Maybe had even hoped for more by assigning her own trusted aide to Halsey’s defense.
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Commander Sacks? Are you content to let these facts stand in evidence?”
“I absolutely dispute the idea that Admiral Pierce’s orders were unlawful. That is not an established fact,” he said. “But for the sake of expediency—if this is the rope Captain Halsey chooses to hang herself with….” Even he seemed dissatisfied that the imminent judgment, no matter how justified, would be arrived at by such a course.
“Very well,” said Kilgore. “Captain Halsey, you will exit the courtroom with Commanders Sacks and Olsen while the panel deliberates. And I wouldn’t go too far, if I were you. This won’t take long.” There was no malice in the admiral’s words, only sadness. “Wait outside.”
Addison saluted and left the room with the advocates.
Oh, Jesus. My career is over.
Chapter 22
Britannia Sector
Churchill Station, Upper Orbit, Britannia
Briefing Room
“Discussion?” Kilgore’s tone was perfunctory. Unenthusiastic.
“Halsey’s guilt is obvious,” sniffed Pierce. “The chain of command is absolute, sacrosanct. I say we take the vote now and get back to defeating the Swarm!”
“Anyone else?”
“Commander Olsen was right,” said Preble, sitting up and smoothing his tunic. “Without Addison Halsey’s actions, none of us would be sitting here now.”
“Irrelevant! And you can’t know that, as Sacks argued,” said Pierce.
“Oh, yes I can,” Preble insisted. “With respect, I was there, Admiral. And I’m every bit as guilty as Captain Halsey for going to Endeavour’s aid. In fact, I was senior by rank. If anyone should be on trial here, it’s me.”
“Captain Preble’s point is well taken,” said Vickers. “No offense, Noah, but Admiral Pierce—why aren’t you charging him?”
“She was the instigator,” Pierce said. “She bears the responsibility.”
Avery leaned forward. “This is starting to sound more like a personal vendetta to me.”
“The facts are the facts,” said Kilgore.
“And one of those facts is that Captain Halsey believed following the admiral’s order was unlawful,” said Preble, adding, “as did I. All those lives—”
“Collateral damage isn’t against the law,” said Vickers. The words seemed to crawl reluctantly out of his mouth. “It’s harsh, but the Military Code of Justice is all that matters here.”
“Collateral damage isn’t against man’s law,” said Avery. The inflection in her voice was leading.
“Captain Avery? What other law is there?” asked Kilgore.
“There is natural law, ma’am. Moral law.”
Pierce expelled his disdain. “This conversation is pointless.”
But Kilgore leaned forward. “Explain what you mean, Captain Avery.”
“Captain Halsey felt that to follow Admiral Pierce’s order would result in billions of people dying. In the loss of the entire sector and its shipbuilding capacity—vital to our war effort. She made a moral choice to go to Endeavour’s aid. To stop the Swarm before they destroyed the Shipyards and advanced on Britannia—if she could.”
“And so did I,” added Preble again.
“She disobeyed the direct order of her superior officer!”
“Yes, Admiral Pierce, she did,” said Avery. “But it’s not like she deserted her post. In fact, she charged into the mouth of the lion’s den. She saved John Richards’ ship and, by all reasonable accounts, this entire sector. She made a choice based on personal morality. And when you cut away the window dressing, isn’t all law based on the moral thing to do?”
“I have to agree with Admiral Pierce,” said Vickers. “I admire Addison Halsey as much as anyone here. She—and you, Sam—I remember you both from your senior year at the Academy. But your argument—however thought provoking and philosophical—is a slippery slope that would allow any soldier to question any order based on his or her own personal moral code. We just can’t have that, or all military discipline—our very ability to win wars—is compromised.”
“I think it’s time we voted,” said Kilgore. “I have Russians waiting. And who knows when the Swarm will return. All those in favor of guilty?”
Pierce’s hand shot into the air. Vickers’ rose more slowly.
“All those in favor of acquittal?”
Sam lifted her arm. So did Preble.
“Deadlocked. I guess I’ll have to cast the deciding vote,” said Kilgore. “Therefore, as much as it pains me to do so—”
The comms whistled. Kilgore’s brow furrowed. They sounded again, and she pressed the button to answer. “What is it, Lieutenant? This is a closed hearing. I wasn’t to be disturbed.”
“Ma’am, I have a request for testimony to be heard on behalf of Captain Halsey.”
“The trial phase is over, Lieutenant. Tell whoever it is—”
“Ma’am, it’s Captain Richards. He’s calling in from Sickbay. More specifically: the doctor is calling for him.”
The panel exchanged looks.
“Very unorthodox, Admiral,” said Pierce. “The testimony phase—”
Kilgore muted the call. “Captain Richards’ prognosis is very grim. If he has something to say, I want to hear it.”
Pierce demurred.
“Very well, Lieutenant, patch him through.”
* * *
Halsey stood outside the briefing room, staring at the Constitution-class ships hanging in their berths at Wellington. Independence and Avenger had returned sometime in the middle of the night, the Indy limping in, its q-jump capacity cut in half. Avenger had escorted the Indy every step of the way. That was Sam Avery for you—always willing to help an old lady across the street.
Halsey couldn’t see the ships with her naked eye—the Shipyards were halfway across the sector. But accessing the wall monitor, she’d called up Wellington’s exterior cameras. The giant metal framework of the dock held the Indy in place like a baby in a cradle. Bundled cords of electrical wiring and hoses full of vital fluids replenished her. Technicians and engineers danced in slow motion around her hull, assessing her spaceworthiness and making repairs.
No, the baby image was wrong. The hard, outer shell of the Indy’s asteroid hull was scorched by enemy fire. Huge, star-like black craters along her portside mag-rail batteries told the story of cumrat kamikaze pilots on their final runs. The Indy was fairly new, but to Halsey’s eyes she appeared aged and worn. The bundles and hoses were lifelines—life support, really—holding death at bay. Once again the image of an old lady came to Addison, this time in a hospital bed, surrounded by metal arms to keep her from falling. Hooked up to tubes that fed her and carried away her waste and kept her alive.
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