As she finished this statement, they rounded the last corner of the section they had been walking around and came into view of the ruined fountain and the shattered café in which the rest of the crew waited. Michael stopped.
"Time to clarify our responsibilities. Davis is XO. Rich, you're Comms and Intel. Hansen, Operations. We get a ship again, you're done in Navigation. Any objection to making Hansen a Lieutenant? She'll need that to deal with the others."
They all agreed.
It was time to get back to their ragged but unbowed group in the shell of the little café.
The Hexagon
Inoria
Saturday, January 15, 2078, 1745 UTC
Evans, Hansen, and three technicians left shortly after the walk, escorted by PFC 'Lockup' Lochner and Private 'Dumbo' Dobo. The Marines walked ahead of the group, with Evans just behind and Hansen following in the rear. It was dark and smoky, the street dimly lit by distant fires reflecting off the haze hanging over the city. They were about halfway there when Lochner signaled for the column to stop. He pointed to some bodies in the street.
"Dumbo check that out." They had come on two more Liberty crew, killed in the street, with two Inori next to them. As Dobo moved to verify their NetLinks, he heard a noise nearby. He drew his flashlight like a sidearm and fired the intense beam at the source of the sound. In the bright light, he saw another crew member, recoiling from the beam as if it had physically struck her.
"Dumbo, cut the light," Lochner commanded.
He flicked it off.
"Lockup, get over here," Dobo said quietly. He and Lochner moved around the bodies in the street to where the survivor was cowering in a doorway. Lochner switched to low-intensity red light so he could see. It was Denise Long, a young Warrant Officer who had earned her degree in physics at Dalhousie University and then signed up as a nuclear applications engineer, managing the ship's reactors. She had been aboard Liberty for only a few months. Lochner could see her still trembling, face and uniform splattered with blood and dust. She stared, wide-eyed, at the mutilated bodies in the street, their torsos laid open, and the red and purple blood mingling in the low spots, sinking into the pavement. Blood and slabs of human and Inori tissue littered the street. Lochner moved to place himself between her and the bodies, and as he did, she looked up at him, still shaking, barely able to speak.
"Is...it...over?" she asked, her voice shaking like the rest of her.
Lochner spoke quietly, "Yes, Ms. Long, it's over, at least for now."
Her eyes came back down as if looking through the Marine at the carnage behind.
"We were walking, and then--" her voice barely audible, she continued, "Their heads just...their bodies..." Her voice trailed off and her body shook again. She doubled up as if to vomit but there was nothing left in her.
"I understand, Ms. Long, we've all seen things like that today. Are you hurt?"
"No, I don't think so." she seemed to look at herself for the first time in the dim red light of Lochner's flashlight.
"Can you stand?" Lochner asked her.
"I...I...don't know. Is it really over? I can't hardly breathe," she gasped, "I am so afraid. Is it really over?"
Lochner and Dobo looked at each other. Then Dobo leaned over to her.
"We're all afraid, Ms. Long," he said gently. "It's time to get up now, time for you to be brave."
She nodded slightly, and they each took an arm to raise her up to her feet. She took a moment to steady herself, then walked with the Marines back across the street.
"Hello, Long," Rich said, "It's good to see that you are unhurt. Come along to the embassy with us."
She fell in line with the technicians, and they moved on south. Dobo verified the casualties' NetLink identities and trotted to catch up. In the four blocks to the embassy, they found about twenty human dead. The last section of Meridian Street before the embassy seemed devastated, but the building was intact.
The same could not be said for the nerves of the inhabitants. The tall, fat, silver-haired and flush-faced former southern governor was in full panic.
"Lieutenant!" the ambassador yelled as Evans entered the embassy. "What has happened? Why didn't you stop it? What - what - what are we going to do?"
Evans held back most of his anger, but not all. "Ambassador Johnston, sir, we did not just let this happen. Liberty was destroyed trying to stop it. Now with your permission, Ambassador we have work to do." Johnston visibly retreated before Evans, who just looked him in the eye and waited for him to wilt.
"Of course, Lieutenant, of course. Whatever you need."
Evans watched as Johnston's face went from indignant to horrified as the Marines brought Denise Long through the front doors. Covered in blood spatter, dirt, and bits of, well, never mind what else, Lochner and Dobo walked her through the lobby and into a restroom. Johnston stared at them all the way until the door closed. Only now, as they went through the door, did Evans notice all three wore the Canadian maple leaf on their left sleeves.
"That is what a war looks like, Mister Johnston, the good part, anyway. The living."
"Oh, dear God," Johnston mumbled. Evans thought for a moment the ambassador would throw up. "So, who exactly is in charge now?"
"Of the embassy, you are, sir, of course. But with Liberty gone, and with her Captain Carpenter, Lieutenant Commander Michael is the Senior Surviving Officer. She is now in command." He let the ambassador absorb that fact. "We need to re-map the embassy NetLink, sir, so that we can communicate and organize our people. And we'll need to send a SLIP message immediately."
The ambassador nodded faintly and retreated to his office with his young assistant, chattering nervously to her as he went.
"You always lop off their heads first?" Carol asked quietly.
"Only the fat stupid ones."
They shook their heads at the politics of the appointment of ambassadors and started up the stairs to the NetLink equipment near the roof.
"Lieutenant!" Evans turned to find a young embassy officer hustling across the lobby. "Brown, sir, communications."
Evans nodded.
"I sent a FLASH SLIP message reporting the attack as soon as we realized what was happening. What else do you want to send?"
Rich was surprised at the initiative shown by a junior member of the incompetent ambassador's staff. "Where's the communications office?"
"Across the lobby, sir, down that hall, second door." Brown was starting to get his breath.
"Very well. Thanks, Mister Brown, we'll be right there."
Brown headed back across the lobby to his workspace.
Rich turned to Carol. "Go see Brown. Report the loss of Liberty. Report the attack as RFG with Lazy Dogs - use exactly those words. Report the number of known living crew members. Report that we have almost no weapons and no prospect of finding any. Ask for instructions and an ETA on rescue."
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"As you suggested, send something similar to Bondarenko and Dunkirk, make it actual - just for the captains - don't ask them to come, just advise them of our situation."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"Not for the moment. I'll catch up with you after I'm done upstairs."
Carol nodded and walked towards the Comms office. As she crossed the lobby, she noticed for the first time the twenty or more civilians who had sought refuge there. They were in chairs, the sofa, on the floor, leaning against walls. She tried to ignore the fear-filled eyes locked on her as she walked across the lobby, her uniform filthy, blood and soot-stained, and into the communications office of one Darrell Brown. He looked up as she entered.
"Ensign Hansen! That was fast."
"Well, as of a few minutes ago, it's Lieutenant Hansen."
"Congratulations, I suppose?" he said, unsure of what a sudden promotion really meant.
"Well...whatever...How do we do proceed?"
He handed her a plain pad of paper. "Just write it out, and I'll get it into the SLIP transmitter."
She wrote quickly in her fine, neat script. Nearly as fast, Brown transcribed the message into the SLIP transmitter and gave her a copy for confirmation.
FLASH 2078011151850UTC
TO: CINCFLEET
FROM: HANSEN, CAROL, LT, FOR MICHAEL, TERESA, LCDR, SSO INOR
INORIA ATTACKED 207801151000UTC RFG WITH LAZY DOGS
BY UNKNOWN ENEMY.
LIBERTY DESTROYED IN ORBIT.
MULTIPLE ORBITAL EXPLOSIONS SEEN.
TYPE AND NUMBER OF OPPOSING FORCE UNKNOWN.
SEVERE DAMAGE TO CITY AND SURROUNDINGS.
WEAPONS NIL. REQUEST INSTRUCTIONS AND ETA FOR RELIEF.
19 KNOWN SURVIVORS INCL LCDR DAVIS LTS RICHARDSON SANDERS
ENS COLEMAN STEVENS.
7 CONFIRMED KIA ON SURFACE INCL LCDR ROSKOV ENS BAKER.
9 MIA.
END
"RFG?" he asked, curious.
"You need to read more sci-fi, Mr. Brown. After all, you're living in a world of faster-than-light-travel and friendly and not-so-friendly aliens. RFGs are 'Rods From God.' Pournelle and Heinlein used them, as I recall. We think that's what this was - high-speed inert metal projectiles."
"OK...and Lazy Dogs?"
"Little-used mid-twentieth century anti-personnel weapon. As Lieutenant Evans put it to me, think oversized darts falling from the sky."
"I see. Copy correct?"
"Yes, looks good. How long?"
"It should be home in right around 24 hours."
"So, a response is 48 hours away?"
Brown nodded. "That's correct, Lieutenant. Anything else?"
"Yes, we need to warn Bondarenko and Dunkirk."
Again, she wrote and again Brown worked quickly to get the message transmitted.
FLASH 207801151855UTC
TO: BONDARENKO ACTUAL
DUNKIRK ACTUAL
CC: CINCFLEET
FROM: HANSEN, CAROL, LT, FOR MICHAEL, TERESA, LCDR, SSO INOR
INORIA ATTACKED 207801151000UTC BY UNKNOWN ENEMY.
LIBERTY DESTROYED IN ORBIT. MULTIPLE ORBITAL EXPLOSIONS SEEN.
TYPE AND NUMBER OF OPPOSING FORCE UNKNOWN.
SEVERE DAMAGE TO CITY AND SURROUNDINGS.
THREAT TO OTHER FLEET ASSETS SEEMS LIKELY
19 KNOWN SURVIVORS
7 CONFIRMED KIA ON SURFACE. 9 MIA.
END
"Good. That's it," she confirmed.
"Anything else, Lieutenant?"
She smiled. "Not at the moment. Thanks, Mister Brown."
She turned and left the Comms office.
Embassy of Terra
Inoria
Saturday, January 15, 2078, 1930 UTC
Messages sent, Carol headed up to the roof of the embassy to get a better look at the city. As she walked out onto the flat, gravel-covered surface, she saw the two Marines and Denise Long looking out across the destruction. Seeing Carol, Lochner left the railing and came over to her.
"Lieutenant, did you need us?"
"No, Lochner, just coming up to have a look."
"Yes, ma'am."
She looked over at Long, seeing her now upright, alert and looking out at the damage. "Lochner, you did wonderfully with Long."
He nodded in acknowledgment. "Well, she's just a college kid in uniform, Lieutenant. She could be Dobo's little sister, or mine. She wasn't ready for this, but I think she's OK now."
"And, college kids, as you call them, don't crawl through trenches with rotting pig guts while live ammo zips overhead, do they?"
He shook his head. "No ma'am, I really don't think so. Did they do that to you, too?"
"Twice."
He winced. "I see. So maybe our officers aren't all the candy asses we like to think?"
She smiled in response, but Lochner's comment sent her back to the time she crawled up out of the trench, exhausted, wet, cold, and wearing a disgusting stink, to find Dan Smith and David Powell standing over Rick Court, down on all fours, vomiting profusely. Dan and David just looked at her and shook their heads. The trench gunk stuck to their hair wiggled as they did that, an image which made Carol smile inside, in spite of what was happening around her. She remembered hearing Dan say something like 'Get up, candy ass...' as she walked by and headed for the showers. Court's snappy f-bomb-laden reply was cut off by another blast from his belly.
She put that memory aside, and looking back at Lochner, she said "Well, some could do it without losing the big fat lunch they gave us right before. Some couldn't."
"Somehow, Lieutenant Hansen, I expect your lunch and you made it to the end together."
"Roger that, Marine."
Lochner walked back to his countrymen and Carol moved to the other side of the roof. It was as close to a vision of Hell as she ever thought to see in real life. There were craters everywhere, it seemed, with large gaps left in buildings, many still smoldering, some still in flames. A dark pall of smoke hung over the city, reflecting the yellow and red light from the fires. Bodies lay in every street she could see, dark pools of blood surrounding and accentuating the deaths, some still wet and reflecting the light from the sky. She could hear the sound of pain and the sound of those trying to give aid. The Inori language sounded gruff and coarse to human ears, but she could hear the echoes of alarm and haste as they worked to get the injured down to the temporary hospital on the beach. Then, there was the stench of death and burning buildings, which attacked her nostrils and sinuses and engraved itself on her memory.
As she looked out on this disaster, she wished David were there with them, his calm presence and intensity of purpose would be welcome tonight. She thought about that last day when he stood with her at the window as she struggled, again, with her relationship with Rick. He had walked out the door like it was any other Friday, only to find it was unlike any Friday any of them had ever seen. His father's suicide that day and his mother's subsequent collapse derailed David, splitting him away from his career and his friends. Carol thought of him daily, wondering sometimes why, but she had not heard from him in a very long time.
Frigate Bondarenko
Epsilon Eridani
Sunday, January 16, 2078, 0306 UTC
Lieutenant Commander Anna Nonna was sleeping restfully in her cabin, just behind the ship's Bridge. Their investigation of Epsilon Eridani was proceeding as expected, the few significant planets located and mapped and some of the larger asteroids catalogued for future survey. Before bed, she had read her weekly SLIP message from her husband and son back in Odintsovo. The baby boy was doing fine, now walking and jabbering nonstop, but Daddy wondered if he wasn't in a little over his head. She smiled as she recalled the child, his tiny voice, and the quiet, sweet warmth as he slept in her arms. He had blond hair like his father but dark eyes like hers, and everyone commented on what a beautiful child he was. And, of course, they were right.
The FLASH message alert on her phone interrupted her gauzy dream about them. She snatched the device from her desk, and entered the security code. "Good gracious God..." she whispered to herself as she read Carol Hansen's message. She reached for the ship phone on her desk.
"Conn...this is the Captain. Assume Alert Status One." She could hear the alert alarm ringing in the ship.
She closed the connection and opened another.
"Nav...yes this is the Captain. I need a course and time to Inor best speed...Yes, from our current position...as soon as possible...yes wake him up...very well."
She clicked off the Nav connection and opened another.
"All officers in the wardroom in 15 minutes."
She reached for her tablet, checking her recollection. Yes, Inor was about 5.5 light years away - nearly six days! She pulled on a uniform, ran a quick brush through her short dark hair, grabbed her tablet and headed out the door, not forgetting to take one last look at little Artemiy's picture next to her bunk.
The wardroom was alive with conversation as Nonna walked in and sat at the head of the table. The room was immediately quiet.
"Ensign Vas
ilescu, please close the door." A young Slovenian ensign was standing at the door. This was her first trip into deep space and she was nervous enough without all these alarms and emergency meetings, in the middle of the night no less! Now, she trembled just a little. The door closed, Nonna looked out at two dozen sets of wide eyes.
"Liberty has been destroyed at Inor," she said flatly. "I don't know how or by whom but it was a deliberate, hostile act. There are twenty or thirty survivors on the surface. My intent is to go to Inor immediately."
She turned to her supply officer.
"Lieutenant Cook, we planned to be here another two weeks, then home. We will need to go six days to Inor, and then it would be over two weeks back to Earth from there, possibly with additional personnel. What about stores?"
Cook thought for a moment. "We have a week in reserve, per regulation. So, really, we have five weeks' stores on board. We'll need to keep track, but I think even if we spend a few days at Inor we should be OK. Nothing we can't manage."
"Weapons?"
A dark-haired woman leaned forward. "Usual stock, Captain. 20 Spartans, 50 Lances. We were planning a live-fire drill into the star in a few days, so all the ordinance is still aboard." Bondarenko was, after all, a frigate, not a cruiser or even a destroyer. Her size limited her ability to carry weapons.
"Very well. Does any officer here have a material objection to proceeding to Inor forthwith?"
She looked methodically at each member of her staff, each met her eye with confidence.
"OK then." She picked up the phone. "Conn....set course for Inor best possible speed."
She hung up the phone, rose, and the meeting was over. It was 0345. She went directly to the Bridge, to the Communications station.
"I have FLASH for you."
The crewman nodded his understanding.
"To...CINCFLEET, SSO Inor, Dunkirk Actual...one...Departing Epsilon Eridani for Inor best speed, ETA 207801211300...two...alert status one in effect...three...full weapons load on hand...that's it."
"Yes, ma'am, I have it. It will reach Inor in about eight hours twenty minutes. Earth is eighteen hours away."
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