“Possibly,” said Gallant. “Our brains interpret signals from our senses and we’re forced to accept the reality it shows us, but reality could be very different to the Titans.”
She said, “Gallant, just as the blind learn to read braille with his fingers, you need to find a way to read the Titan’s sensory output and understand its meaning.”
Gallant nodded, but wondering,
What’s her agenda?
CHAPTER 9
Raid
The first winter storm blew through New Annapolis with a ferocity that dwarfed much humbler Earth hurricanes, deluging streets and buildings with such intensity that it washed away all traces of color, stripping the trees of their leafy green foliage, packing inky-black mud over the red-brown cobblestones of the streets, strewing branches and debris over the well-manicured lawns of stately homes, and blowing away the decorative signage of the craft and trade shops. And it was this forfeiture of color, above all else, that transformed the quiet, graceful, rustic town’s warmth and identity into a dull gray-black facsimile of its former self.
The Warrior remained in the shipyard undergoing repairs from its shakedown cruise and upgrading equipment to meet the requirements for its new mission. Meanwhile Gallant consoled himself that the shipyard was high above the planet and safe from the vicious weather as he made his way into the underground bowels of SIA headquarters. A dozen of his crew members were also at the underground facilities going through intensive training in communications, sabotage, and stealth operations.
After completing his daily study program, Gallant was prepared to return to his ship, but due to the weather, the space elevator was inoperable and he was stranded planet-side. So he decided to visit a friend, or two. He left SIA headquarters and planting one foot in front of another, it occurred to him,
It's not till the first gale of winter that you find out what will carry away.
Anyone left outside in the furious tempest felt the oppressive force of the wind trying to swoosh them away. A timid man would not go out under these conditions, which wouldn't have been such an awful thing if there were no particular place for him to go, or if there were no particular person for him to see, but the weather didn’t deter Gallant.
Chilled through and through despite his so-called “weatherproof” clothing, he made his way toward the local refugee camp where he planned to inquire about missing friends. He continued to brave the misery of the storm until he heard the sirens shriek.
EEEEEEERRRR!!!
He cursed,
Oh, no. It’s started already.
He had been monitoring the news reports for several days, as had all inhabitants of the inner planets, anxious for any update of the approaching crisis. Over one hundred Titan destroyers and cruisers in twenty separate raiding parties were approaching Mars, Earth, and Venus. Intercepting them meant dividing the UP fleet and weakening the defense against a follow-up massive strike toward a specific planet of the Titans’ choosing. The alien ships could cruise ten percent faster than their UP counterparts, which complicated the interception calculus. Fleet Command evaluated its optimal strategy for intercepting the raiders to preclude them from launching nuclear missiles at the occupied worlds. UP ships flew for several days to intercept the enemy.
Panic lay just beneath the surface and raw nerves grew tighter with each passing day as they waited for events to unfold.
Now, for the first time since the start of the war, Mars experienced the sirens of an impending attack. People left their homes and defied the storm to run to the bomb shelters distributed throughout the city.
Chaos reigned.
It was as if Gallant had stepped into another world. The crowds of New Annapolis pressed against the railing at the entrances to a local shelter—safety lay on the other side. A megaphone from a security guard called, “Remain calm! There’s room for everyone!”
Windows rattled and doors shook as scores of antimissile missiles were launched.
“What's the latest news?” Gallant asked, as strangers rushed by. No one stopped to answer, but one man called back over his shoulder, “Take shelter!”
“A raid? Is the raid targeting here?” demanded Gallant.
As the man kept running, he wondered,
Where’s the fleet?
The sirens let out a continual maddening scream, indicating that an assault was imminent. The defense forces prepared to meet the approaching ships. The planet’s space fighters were sent to intercept the incoming missiles, but they were few, and the missiles were many. Distant surface missile silos launched a series of antimissile missiles filling the skies with swooshing sounds. The antimissiles swooshed up into the sky to intercept the enemy and destroy them before their warheads could explode. Even from the street Gallant could see the space station high above firing missiles to protect the city, but some Titans seemed to have broken through the defensive ring.
There came a sonic boom.
Then another.
Gallant heard the whistling screams of antimissiles leaving the ground batteries and climbing to strike down the incoming threats. Bursts of detonations arose high in the air from one end of the horizon to the other. The sky was alive with the deadly dance of combat as broken warheads and destroyed fighters fell to earth. Far off rumblings of explosions from destroyed weapons crashing to the ground.
Gallant tried to see who was winning,
Deliverance?
There was still time for him to seek shelter like everyone else, but he wasn’t so inclined. He remained at the entrance to the shelter without entering, foregoing his safety for an opportunity to witness the attack. But remaining above ground left him to nearly suffocate from the wind, debris, and dust swirling past him.
Unfortunately, one of the enemy missiles managed to break through the defenses. Its nuclear warhead exploded about 200 kilometers north of New Annapolis in what was, thankfully, a fallow region of the continent. Nevertheless, the nuclear explosion produced a devastating red fireball plume. The edge of the shock wave followed soon after. Broken branches twirled and fluttered from the heavens; they were all that remained of the forest a hundred kilometers away.
As the latecomers streamed into the shelters, Gallant could count himself among the procrastinators, disbelievers, and fools—all of whom had waited too long—as he finally ducked into the protection of the shelter just in time to avoid the effects of the blast as it passed through the town. Somehow, the damage did not seem too severe. He was more concerned about his ship. How would it fare if it were hit by a missile? Again he cursed his bad luck of being stranded planet-side at such a critical time.
Finally, the defense force succeeded in destroying the remaining Titan threat.
Gallant didn’t know exactly how long it was until the all clear was finally given, but he gave a sigh of relief when it was. The hurricane had not yet blown itself out, and the gray skies kept their bluster. It seemed unreal—grotesquely unreal. The skies were colors he had never seen before, and they were filled with smoke that hung over the area suffocating everything with malodorous fumes from explosions and exhaust. Attempts to restore order were underway, but the “all clear” left the New Annapolis population disoriented and confused. The sharp crackling of ships flashing overhead was from small craft of all kinds shuttling men and supplies to emergency sites. The roads were choked with emergency vehicles and military cars of all kinds. People, concerned about their loved ones, would have to wait, at least for now.
Gallant didn’t know if the space station was still intact, or if his ship and crew were hurt. He had to find out, but he was slow to realize that was not yet possible. All communications were down; most electronic systems had been knocked out by the electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear blast.
With few other options to occupy his time until the space elevator was restored, Gallant decided to take the underground monorail to the refugee camp to investigate whether someone he knew had been hurt or if there was anything he could do to help.
CHAPTER 10
Refugee Camp
The rag-tag refugee camp on the outskirts of New Annapolis also suffered from a lack of color, only it had been without pigmentation long before the storm and the traumatic Titan raid had hit. Its gray, prefabricated buildings constructed from frail material and sundry supplies were all that shielded the desperate outcasts who sought shelter and solace. The camp never enjoyed the luxury of green trees, red-brown cobblestones, stately homes, or decorative shops. It was, and remained, a dark, monochromatic community—a grim illustration of its own dismal future.
The refugees represented a lost society from a stark community. They had been hearty pioneers colonizing satellites and chunks of rock millions of kilometers from Earth. But now, war had achieved a greater reality for these individual survivors—it had killed their families and destroyed their homes. It had forced them millions of kilometers from their heritage. Built as a temporary settlement, the camp held over 100,000 individuals. Run by a government agency with the assistance of charity and relief organizations, it was set up in an impromptu fashion designed to meet only the most basic human needs for a short time. Due to crowding and a lack of infrastructure, some sections of the refugee camp were unhygienic, leading to a high incidence of infectious diseases. The camp administrators worked night and day to prevent a humanitarian crisis.
Grateful the underground monorail was still running, Gallant traveled to the refugee camp to search for his friends. Not knowing their fate was worse than hearing bad news.
The aliens had traveled in sublight generation ships from Gleise-581 and had colonized the outer planets of the Solar System. Gallant and some of his friends had fought the aliens several years earlier. He hadn’t heard from many of them since.
Gallant found an information depot, but the computer data offered little help—too much of the available data was vague and uncorrelated. However, after asking a camp worker, he was able to trace one individual. That person was staying on the edge of the camp in a small room of an apartment building. Following the side streets through the camp, Gallant soon found the man he was looking for.
“Hello, Henry,” said Jacob Bernstein when he answered the knock on his door.
“It’s been quite a while, Jake. How are you?” Gallant looked at the thin haggard old man, seeing the years of suffering in his eyes.
“Well enough,” said Jake as the wind reeled past the thin windows. “It’s just this miserable cold.”
“I never thought I would see you on Mars,” said Gallant, “but I'm glad you were one of the survivors.”
“It’s the war,” said the old man shaking his head. “It goes on and on; too much death and destruction.”
“Can you get any news updates about the raid yet?” asked Gallant eager to find if there was an update.
“Come here,” Jake said as he pulled Gallant toward a view screen. They settled into seats next to a messy table filled with stacks of plates and miscellaneous items. After a few minutes of futile scanning of channels, Jake said, “There’s nothing but emergency communications and orders to remain in place and keep calm. No news about casualties or the status of the fleet.”
“Tell me what happened at Jupiter,” Gallant said.
“It was a blessing you weren’t there,” Jake said. He sighed before adding: “It was a hell of a fight, a real heroic effort. Even in defeat, our people were magnificent. The sacrifice was huge. You have to have faith in what we’re fighting for or it would never be worth that kind of loss. After the Titans defeated our fleet, they used nuclear bombs on the colonies. We fled. Several squadrons of UP cruisers and destroyers tried to cover the evacuation.”
Gallant listened as Jake provided details.
“On the first day of the evacuation, only several thousand were able to shuttle to transports. On the second day the marine rearguard held an insignificant sliver of a volcanic crater around the capital city of Kendra. Thanks to their efforts and supported by a few remaining destroyers and numerous small craft, a full day of the evacuation was successful. On the third day, people escaped aboard small craft running from the moons to larger ships. A wide variety of small vessels from all over the asteroids and nearby moons were pressed into service to aid in the evacuation. A flotilla of hundreds of merchant ships, mining ships, pleasure craft, and salvage vessels were brought into service. The withdrawal was chaotic using whatever could fly, all of them packed with refugees.”
Jake’s gaze fixed on Gallant’s face, reading his reaction.
Jake continued: “The Titan armada engaged with the remnants of our fleet while splinter squadrons attacked the colonies. It was on the third day that the Titan destroyers focused on the marine pockets holding out at Ganymede. They held fast until the fourth day. The remaining battalion was massacred when the men ran out of ammunition for their heavy weapons,”
His voice broke as he spoke, “My son was one of them.”
He concluded quietly, “Jupiter Station was destroyed the next day.”
Gallant sat in silent company.
Pounding his fist into his hand, Jake said, “I'd like to give them a taste of their own medicine. I'd like to have the pleasure of driving them from their homes one day.”
Gallant remained for a while before taking his leave. He shook hands with Jake and gave him a comm address so they could stay in contact. Then he checked on the space elevator.
A cold and bitter wind blustered down the street as he reached the elevator. He pulled his coat closer around him and jammed his hands into his pockets. He plowed forward, leaning into the wind, his nose running. He didn’t allow himself to seek the warmth of a nearby building. He was determined to reach the entry port,
I need to get back to my ship.
CHAPTER 11
Overtime
Gallant passed bustling workers completing jobs on a dozen ships as he made his way through the central corridor and into the main administration building on his way to the shipyard inspector’s office. The office had glass walls that offered a panoramic view of the entire shipyard. The inspector was scrunched over his desk console reviewing ship status reports.
Gallant extended his hand and said, “Hello, inspector. I’m the commanding officer of the Warrior—dock five.”
“Yes. I know who you are,” he said with complete indifference. In a sweeping gesture, he brought his hands to his chest and said, “I know everything about what goes on in my shipyard.”
Gallant pulled back his neglected hand and said, “I’m sure you do, but I have several concerns that…”
But the inspector interrupted: “You should address your issues to your dock supervisor. If there is anything important enough to warrant my involvement, he’ll inform me.” Then he returned his attention to his console.
Gallant tapped the inspector on the shoulder.
As the man turned, his face froze and he turned his nose up. He knew what was coming.
In a strident voice Gallant said, “You’re responsible for completing repairs and upgrades as specified in your contract—on time and within specifications—or else the ship’s commanding officer may refuse payment authorization. It would then become a matter for the admiralty and the NNR Shipping and Mining Company to resolve.”
The inspector pruned his lips together. “Young man, there is simply no need to magnify a simple issue into gigantic proportions.”
Gallant continued: “My officers and I have completed our ship walk-through inspection, and I’m gravely disappointed. The dock supervisor—and you—have signed off on many completed items that I’ve found deficient.”
Gallant handed the inspector
a tablet list of considerable length.
“Lieutenant, may I speak frankly?” The inspector was several decades Gallant’s senior, and his distain showed.
“By all means; please do so,” said Gallant drawing himself up to his maximum height, towering over the slight man.
“Let me tell you, we prioritized the essential repairs and upgrades that were authorized. I personally oversaw that the critical requirements were met to our highest standards. The trivial items you’ve identified as remaining are not worth bothering about. Your ship’s engineering team can fix those on your deployment. I have other warships under repair with the highest priority; I can’t take the time to make everything all nice and pretty for your fancy tastes.”
Holding his temper, Gallant said, “This ship has a vital mission utilizing unique technology that must be fully operational and expertly calibrated from the moment we depart this station. The capabilities of this ship include extraordinary systems requiring a great deal of state-of-the-art electronic gear. It’s essential that everything perform at peak efficiency, and tinkering with them while on deployment is not my idea of professional performance.”
“I’m not sure I understand you. What kind of systems are we talking about?”
Gallant was fully aware that the Warrior might find herself in combat from the instant she left the dock. “I’m referring to the stealth cloaking device and the dark matter engine. This ship gives us a chance to do things no other ship can, but only if the systems are properly attuned. We have to rely on their robustness. We may be hundreds of millions of kilometers from Mars, and if those systems fail, we will have no one to call for help. The lives of my crew depend on those systems performing properly.”
“I'm sorry. I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but I don’t know how to accomplish everything you require. In my opinion, there are always bugs in new systems that only operational experience can wash out,” said the inspector as he rolled his eyes and spread his arms wide, as if asking for divine guidance.
Henry Gallant and the Warrior (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 3) Page 6