Of Bravery and Bluster

by Scott Kelemen

  The computers acting as referees were not so kind. They recognized the strikes and translated them into simulated damage. Systems were shut down all over the ships to emulate the impact those precision strikes would have had in a real fight. Unmanned sections had their air vented out into space as if destroyed and exposed to the vacuum. Even the artificial gravity generators issued a minute rumble to shake the crews, letting them feel the vibrations as if real energy weapons had smashed through the exterior hull.

  Fox and Lion’s captains panicked, lurching through emergency course changes to escape the fire. Fox in particular was careless, pointing her stern right at Falcon. The range was still on the order of 200,000 kilometers, so it was impossible to pinpoint targets on another ship’s hull, but the rudder drive was a large, unshielded and unavoidable weakness for every ship in space.

  Once again, Falcon’s weapons officer didn’t miss. Laser fire stabbed out under Paula’s precision control, virtually rending apart Fox’s entire SCIR column. Soon after the game systems declared a massive eruption as the ship ‘exploded’. Lion limped away.

  Johanna’s ship didn’t pass unscathed.

  Eagle kept her discipline, and Panther responded even quicker under Tranton’s firm hand. Both ships had two lasers left from their previous battle damage, and they wasted nothing in the counter-attack. Wave after wave of faux-deadly energy lashed at Falcon’s hull as the three ships passed on convergent courses, interpenetrated the same volume of space, and then began to open. All of them flipped their ships, not wanting to meet the same fate as Fox, protecting their vulnerable sterns as they continued to pound away at each other. Conserved momentum started to open the distance between them.

  The whole conflict took but a few minutes. In the end, Falcon drifted away, her engines and weapons silenced as the game computers assessed her as a total wreck, ripped into shreds.

  She didn’t go alone. Eagle had been hit the hardest, and her remaining power systems couldn’t even manage a course change, let alone make her a credible threat in the upcoming battle.

  Of the three, only Panther remained intact, and she had lost over half of her remaining firepower. Whatever advantage they had hoped to hold over Blue Force was annihilated.

  ***

  Tanner flopped back into his command chair as the full implications of the latest TACSIM update hit home. “What the fuck was that?!”

  Brenna cleared her throat, stretching for anything positive to say. “That was…unexpected.”

  “What, Summer and her whole crew committing suicide just to save that jackass Pierce? Yeah, I’d say that qualifies as unexpected. Thanks for the insight.” Tanner didn’t check his scathing sarcasm, ignoring the exasperated glare he drew from his Exec. Right then, he didn’t care.

  His TACSIM delivered a new alert. As soon as he’d seen the first sign of disaster, Tanner had tried to open the distance to the enemy ships, but the computer was confirming what he had already feared. He had built his trap too well, and lured Pierce in too close. There wasn’t a single vector he could choose to avoid combat completely.

  Pierce held the current gage, positioned closer in toward Havoc’s star. That meant his engines would be a fraction more efficient. The solar current could only be bent so far by a SCIR drive, so a ship couldn’t fly right in at a star. Like in the old days of sail, where ships had to tack back and forth against an opposing wind, Tanner would have to do the same to attack his enemy. Up-current, Pierce could match his course changes, using his efficiency advantage to hold Tanner at bay. Meanwhile, at any time Pierce decided combat favored him, he could sail right down the stream at Red Force.

  Like he was doing now.

  Which meant, Tanner couldn’t run and buy time. Tanner slammed his hand against his console, this time absent his previous satisfaction. “I had that son of a bitch!”

  A voice breathed into his ear over a completely illegal, hidden, and unrecorded comm circuit. “There is an old expression that cornered enemies can be the most dangerous. You are the one cornered now. Your team has pride. Use that. Their desperation and anger are effective tools.”

  The whispered wisdom cut through his anger. He knew well not to ignore the judicious tidbits tossed his way by Commander Adrienne Ryan from Crocodile’s AuxCon. That she would offer such advice was completely contrary to the rules of the battle simulation, but such rules were liberally ignored by those who hailed from the Trinity star cluster. Ryan had been Tanner’s guardian angel since his first year at the Academy, and she was protecting him now.

  He suddenly realized Brenna was talking to him, her tone strict as she chastised him to rejoin the fight. “Orders, Sir?”

  Tanner snapped back into the moment. “Alright. We’re not done yet. Get me a circuit to Panther. They’re still active. If the war is going to end here, we’re going to give them hell first.”

  ***

  The entire Red Force altered onto intercept courses. Sam let out an excited breath. No more running and hiding. It was all going to end here and now. He reached over and keyed open a conference to his remaining captains. Five faces appeared on his screen. They were his classmates and his friends. But right then, he was the force commander. He was in his element and projected nothing but smooth confidence. “This is it, ladies and gentlemen. They’re closing in, and I’m not going to avoid action. Thanks to Johanna, the numbers are six to five and we’re in better condition. This is our fight to win or lose.”

  Makaio Walker was a few hundred thousand kilometers away in Bear, but the massive, muscular cadet’s aggressive joviality punched right through the electronic channel into their faces. “What, you think you must talk us into a fight, Sam? Let’s go shove our fists down their throats!”

  Broadcasting from Wasp on the next screen over, Dianne Starling bared her teeth in feral pleasure knowing that the weeks-long hunt was finally over. Her sarcastic humor shone through her enthusiasm. “I’m sure Sam has something a little craftier in mind, Mak. But your heart’s in the right place.” Playfulness danced in her eyes as she focused on Sam. “You do have something better, right?”

  “There’s no time to be fancy about this. We’ll cut down what remains of Red Force, then mop up what’s left of Green. Stand by your TACNETs, and I’ll pass targeting instructions. We’re not going to make the same mistake Green Force did with Johanna and screw up our advantage. Hold to your targets and be ready to adjust on the fly.”

  Dianne rolled her eyes. “Be flexible? That means we will need to pull it out of our butts to save you while you try and wing it?”

  Both to support his captain and because he couldn’t resist teasing Dianne, Greg pitched in from over Sam’s shoulder, “Just try to keep up.”

  She quipped back, “You’ve been trying to catch up to my sweet behind for three years, handsome. Sit there and look pretty and let the adults kick some ass.” She flashed him an impudent, flirtatious smile.

  Sam didn’t interrupt the game between her and his Exec. The two had a mutual attraction for each other that was possibly the worst kept secret in the whole Academy. Why they resorted to this ongoing war of words instead of just tumbling into bed together was part of the mystery, but it was damned fun to watch. He used the levity to break up the tension and finished the conference strong. “Never had a doubt. From any of you. Let’s finish this so we can go out and paint the town Blue. My treat.”

  They signed off, switched back to their primary networks, and prepared for battle.

  Chapter 2

  The operatives of the Trinitian Security Union shed their identities as easily as breathing. They had little use for names. It was the skills and tasks of individuals that mattered, and often defined their roles.

  Agents were the critical part of the TSU, operating on dangerous and independent missions or at the head of long-term, larger scale operations. They had long-ago sacrificed any connection to whatever identities they had held in the past. They existed only as alphanumerical codes which held no meaning except insid
e their own organization.

  Agent Z49 Z01 Z98 Z02 paused in his work when his door chime sounded. Accepting the request, he waited for his assistant to enter from the central operations node just outside his personal office. He had been expecting this report and was more than interested in the result.

  His assistant’s grim headshake did not bode well. “The exercise just ended. All the cadets performed well above margins, despite our injects. Of the errors made, none of them will prove truly embarrassing. I am sure it will come as no surprise which cadets proved the most important to this level of success.”

  The TSU Agent’s lips formed a firm line, fighting against any sort of emotional outburst. The results of the exercise were disappointing, but not unexpected. The Agent’s team had only been able to exert minimal influence on this test. Sabotaging critical space technology was nearly impossible with the rigorous safety checks the Navy carried out, and changing the combat scenario was difficult with so many instructors scanning for problems and inconsistencies.

  He allowed himself a full minute to compose his thoughts. Only when a path forward was steady in his mind, he replied, “Coordinate a planning group in one hour. Our next opportunity will be during their Trip-E assignments. We should be able to influence matters more effectively beyond the strict control of the Havoc system. Embarrassment out there will be more public as well and give better opportunities to shatter the Academy’s faith in their latest crop before they graduate. We are but one cog in the machine that is trying to discredit the whole Alliance, but that does not make us insignificant.”

  “I’ll gather the team.”

  “We need to increase our influence for the near future. This will be our last chance to achieve our intended results without resorting to more brutal measures. We will utilize some of our longer-term loyalists within the Academy staff, even if we need to burn their cover. Refresh the files on all Trinitian personnel here on Sanctuary. Specifically, focus on Commander Adrienne Ryan. She has become invested in the Trinitian element of this class and will be an invaluable tool. We’ll have her shifted to a more useful position where she can be a more effective pawn. I’ll activate her shortly.”

  “Won’t she resist any efforts to embarrass the class given her investment in her protégés?”

  “The true goal is to shatter faith in the Alliance’s ability to produce quality graduates and shake the faith that their Navy can defend Alliance space. We need the Parliament to open their minds to other options, such as permitting system like Trinity to expand our sphere of influence. We will do as we can to protect the individual reputations of Trinitian candidates, but all of us including Commander Ryan will have to accept that risk to our own. This is about a longer game to benefit all of Trinity, not simply a few individuals who we sacrificed to a lost cause like the Alliance.”

  “I’ll have everything sent to your desk.”

  The Agent considered his final order carefully before speaking. He should be confident that his team could finally break the chain of successes for this class during the Trip-E. But he couldn’t ignore the possibility of failure. He needed to have a contingency plan in place. He dismissed his hesitation. Layers upon layers. That was the means to success in his world. “I have prepared three messages in the FTL queue. Two are for Proxima, one for TSU HQ on the First Point of Trinity. I have already encoded the packages. Arrange for concealed time on the Havoc FTL array and have the messages sent.” He offered no further explanation. He had taken full, personal responsibility for creating the final contingency plans described within those messages which would only come into effect if the Trip-E gambit was unsuccessful. No other living soul knew of the terminal phase, nor its details. Not even his personal staff.

  Well acclimated to functioning in a tight security environment where he often had less than a complete picture, his assistant nodded without complaint. “It will be done.”

  The Agent dismissed him. For a moment, the Agent wished he had a piece of old-fashioned paper to crumple up to express his private frustration. Over two years of targeted attempts to discredit this class of cadets had yielded nothing. He had been meeting with a fine measure of success, churning out substandard cadets that would undermine the Alliance Navy throughout space.

  But a single large group of skilled graduates could be the bedrock on which skilled leaders could rebuild. In the grand scheme, the cadets might be a minor impediment to his assigned plans to shatter the Alliance Academy’s image, but they might also become strong-points to rally around. He needed them discredited and spoiled, but they were frustratingly resilient.

  He fought off the petulant emotion. There was real work to be done if he was going to see these unexpectedly resourceful children blotted out.

  He cleared his screen which had contained larger plans intended to influence the entire Academy’s future: losing money through inefficiency, reducing good security procedures to less effective ones, and other longer-term degradations.

  In their place, he called up the fragmented pre-plans his team had generated for the Trip-E phase. The plan was complicated, requiring a wide range of resources, and might backfire catastrophically if not handled well. Then again, there was a chance to obliterate the cadets’ excellent reputation in one swoop.

  There might also be a few secondary benefits. The ripples would carry beyond the fall of the cadets. Their failure was going to be spectacular and could lead to damaging the reputation of the whole Academy. He had to control those waves and use them to maximum effect. Then, he could regain the time and space he had lost while putting the metaphorical nail into the students’ coffins.

  ***

  Deep in the mechanical heart of Proxima’s fourth largest transit hub space station, a mellow computer voice intoned almost regretfully, “Process suspended due to violation of basic safety protocol. Enter authorization to continue.”

  Senior Petty Officer Jerrod Michaels slid out of a nearby access hatch and glared at the computer terminal. He clenched his fingers into a tight fist, barely restraining himself from an ill-advised compucide attempt. That was fortunate, as the hardcrystal display and the battlesteel enclosure around it were both harder than his flesh and bone.

  Fighting to keep calm, he snapped at the disembodied voice of the station’s central AI, “I know it violates safety protocol, you stupid, asinine machine. That’s the point. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

  The AI replied with remorseless helpfulness, “Authorization not understood. Please re-enter or process will be terminated.”

  Jerrod’s eyebrows rose precipitously, anger flashing into his voice, “If you make me restart this whole mess, I’ll tear you into little bits of -”

  He clawed his tirade to a halt, realizing he was starting to yell. Foolish. The computer’s AI might be an irritating, far-too-damned logical creature from the abyss, but it still wouldn’t care two marks about his temper.

  He took two calming breaths. Nerves were getting to him, and he knew it. He had to focus. The message he had received from the TSU Agent earlier that day had been all-too-clear. Their special requirements for him were not overly difficult, but he could tell they were part of some larger whole he couldn’t see. They were playing a potentially deadly game, and Jerrod would have to live with his part in that.

  Not that he could possibly say no. The TSU never left you that option. He had been activated, and it was as simple as that.

  And yet, he also had his normal job to do, including explicit orders from the engineering officer regarding these systems. He had to balance the two. If he didn’t get these commands executed perfectly, he would be crushed between the authority of the Navy and the far scarier threat from an Agent of Trinity’s Security Union. He hated this sort of pressure but saw no way to escape it.

  The third breath did it. Yes, he wouldn’t explode now if he opened his mouth. “Alright, let’s do this again. Computer, access credentials Tango-Romeo-Three-Two-Eight-Mike-Mike-Seven. I’ve told you them six times alr
eady. Disable launch capability on escape pods as part of subroutine designated ‘Carrowdale’. Authority for Carrowdale is the station Commanding Officer, Executive Officer, and Engineering Officer as well as myself. All mechanical overrides are to be frozen. I’m doing that manually, so I want you to cut the power feeds so they don’t electrocute or crush me while the system is apart. Get it? Now, execute.”

  A significant pause followed as the computer chewed into his commands. Jerrod was glad enough for the restrictions on artificial intelligence meant to keep the semi-independent programs firmly under human control, but there were times he wished he could tweak the station AI so it wouldn’t be so damned literal.

  His rant had verged on the edge of the AI’s ability to sift out his sarcasm, but at last it replied, “Commands accepted. Energy runs disabled for manual alteration to the system. ‘Carrowdale’ subroutine inserted.”

  Allowing himself a grunt of satisfaction, Jerrod folded back into the access hatch, bending back to the task of setting locks on the manual overrides he had mentioned.

  He hummed as he worked, trying to reduce his stress. Once he was done, he was going to make an excuse to take a long, extended vacation. He didn’t need to be here when whatever the TSU had planned exploded in everyone’s face.

  ***

  Three sections over and two decks down from the petty officer, Acting Lieutenant of Engineering Jona Cradlin’s eyeball was itching. No, not just itching. He swore it was stabbing pins in his brain to the beat of the red strobing icon on his head-mounted Heads-Up Display. He had a flash priority message in his queue. He tried to ignore it. For as long as he could, he tried to ignore it and focus on his work.

  But the icon wasn’t just any flash message. It didn’t have a Navy origin. As soon as the message arrived, his internal cryptography load had unlocked the embedded, hidden under-layer. The icon said this was a message from the TSU. As a Trinitian, ignoring such a thing wasn’t wise. Every time it pulsed in synchronous beat with his heart, it was ticking away the brief remainder of his life.