Traitor's Duty

by Richard Tongue

   “I’m no diplomat,” she replied.

   “That’s a pity,” he said, “but you’re all we’ve got.”

   “How the hell did we get this desperate?” she asked.

   He stopped at the airlock door, then said, “The truth of the matter is that I don’t really know. I guess we just ran out of choices. Two sets of people sharing the Senate who both want diametrically opposite things, and the choice never gets more stark than that between war and peace.”

   “They’re wrong,” she said.

   “I think so, you think so, the President thinks so, but the people are what really matter in all of this. In about six weeks from now they’re going to tell us what they want in an election, and none of the polls, none of the debates, none of all this talk is going to mean a damn thing. If they want war then, they’ll tell us by voting Progressive. I’m sure they could find some way to abrogate the treaty.”

   “Then why the hell have we gone through all this, Senator?” she asked. “What was the point of it?”

   “I want the people to choose for themselves what they want, instead of having it presented to them by smiling pundits on the news. The Progressives are out to give them a fixed deck, a choice that is no choice at all. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I spent a long time in a uniform not that different to yours to make sure that they had that choice, and I don’t want to see it thrown away so quickly.” With a sigh, he said, “Not that our side is much better. Newton’s all talk, and old friend or no, he’s guilty as sin.”

   “The lesser of two evils.”

   “Welcome to the wonderful world of politics, Senator Orlova,” he said. “I wish I’d stayed in uniform.” Gesturing at the airlock, he said, “Go on, Maggie. You don’t want to keep your public waiting. And console yourself that you only have to stay in the pigpen for a day or two. Some of us have condemned ourselves to it for the rest of our lives.”

   With a last glance at the Senator, who suddenly looked extremely tired, she tapped a hand on the control and stepped out into a babble of conversation.

  Chapter 23

   Cooper sat at the far end of the briefing room, looking at Captain Marshall at the far end as he scanned a datapad. Sergeant Forrest was sitting to his right, Barbara at his left; Quinn and Dixon were sitting next to each other on the left side of the table, Ryder and Caine on the right. It was beginning to feel more like a family meeting than a tactical planning session, but the hovering holographic image of the battleship in the middle of the room rammed home the enormity of the task at hand.

   “Steele’s checked the course three times, and it matches with Ryder’s suspicions,” Marshall said. “Also, we’re getting some odd chatter from Mars, something about Senator Orlova.”

   “Senator?” Caine asked.

   “No idea. Hopefully it’ll become clear shortly. Weitzman’s trying to monitor as many channels as he can. The main problem remains the same, though, how do we get past that battleship and get to Mars?”

   “What about the orbital defense network?” Dixon said. “That’s not an insignificant problem. Any two of those laser satellites could tear us to pieces.”

   “Logan says he can deal with it,” Ryder replied. “I haven’t the faintest idea how he’s going to pull it off, but I’ll trust that he can find a way. In any event, I don’t see we have much choice except to see what he can pull off – there’s nothing we can do about it from up here.”

   Caine glanced up at the battleship, then said, “From a straight tactical perspective, we’ve had it. If we had three fully-crewed battlecruisers at our disposal, then I might be able to do something, but Alamo’s at half-strength or less and has been patched up once too often.”

   “We can’t just give up,” Marshall said.

   “I didn’t say that. I just mean that Alamo is no match for that ship, even in a straight fight. Her laser cannon is half again as powerful as ours, with a significantly reduced recharge time, and she has ten missile tubes to our six – and again, her reload time is faster. She can carry two squadrons of fighters, and from what I can see, is. They’ve been doing some practice launches.”

   “That tells us two things,” Dixon said. “We know that they have the pilots and the fighters, but also that they haven’t trained much. I took a look at the tactics, and it was all refresher stuff, so I’m guessing we’re looking at old retreads being put back into service for the occasion.” Sighing, she said, “There’s been a lot of discontent in the fighter community for the last few years, ever since the drone fighter project really got going.”

   Ryder’s face reddened, and she said, “That project is the rational future of the fighter community. It isn’t my fault that you’ve been using out-of-date tactics all these years!”

   “Ryder,” Marshall snapped. “No-one blames you for this, and I know that you suffered as a result of that hostility, but Dixon isn’t the enemy.”

   “No, sir,” she replied. “I apologize.”

   Dixon added, “Partly my fault, as well. My mouth tends to run ahead of my brain at times; I’d forgotten that Ryder was involved in that project. Point is that there are a lot of discontented pilots out there, but a lot of them haven’t done much flying lately.” Shaking her head, she said, “I probably know some of them.”

   “We all probably know people on that ship,” her husband said. “Though I still hate to think it. I’ve been going over Zeus with all our sensors, and they did a hell of a job on it. She’s a little slower than us, a little less responsive, but in all other respects is superior.”

   “No weak spots?”

   “Not that I can find, no. Which doesn’t mean there aren’t any, and I’ll keep looking.”

   Marshall looked around the table, and said, “This is not acceptable, people. There is no other option open to us; we must take down that ship.”

   “There is an answer,” Cooper said, glancing across at Barbara then back to the Captain. “Our assessment is that Zeus is somewhat undermanned, correct?”

   “Almost certainly,” Caine replied.

   “And I doubt they have many Espatiers on board,” he continued.

   “On what basis, Ensign?” Ryder asked.

   “They’d have sent them to Hades or Hydra. Us coming home like that was unexpected, and they’re having to improvise. Hence liberating Zakharova from jail to command that ship. If they’d had time to prepare something better, I rather think they would have.”

   “What about the shuttles they launched at us?” Caine asked.

   “Decoys,” Cooper said. “Designed to trick us. We wondered why they launched them, then turned them around so quickly. They want us to think that they have more people on board than they do.”

   “That’s...actually well reasoned,” Ryder said.

   “Say you are right,” Marshall said. “What does that give us?”

   “A chance to launch an assault on Zeus.” Cooper tapped a series of controls, highlighting three points. “Normally I wouldn’t try anything like this…”

   “Ensign, that looks suspiciously like the strategy Major Burke gave us to attack Hades,” Forrest said, frowning.

   “As I said, normally this would be crazy, but if we’re attacking an undermanned opponent, it becomes a practical possibility. Besides, we don’t have time to take the entire ship. Just the bridge, engineering and weapons stations.”

   “Take the ship with twenty-one men?” Caine said.

   “Gabe, it’s suicide. You’d never get in. They’d shoot you down before you got halfway there,” Barbara said.

   “Ensign, taking that ship in the limited time we’ll have…,” Marshall began.

   “I’m assuming four minutes, sir. From when we hit the deck to securing the departments. Otherwise we move to Plan B.”

   “What’s that?” Marshall asked, as the room grew silent.

   Looking at Forrest, Cooper said, “We detonate three
low-yield bombs, which we can fabricate from ship’s stores in the time. It’s a lot easier to destroy a ship from the inside than it is throwing missiles at it from outside.”

   Nodding, Quinn said, “That would turn Zeus into tumbling wreckage.”

   “Wait a minute,” Ryder said. “What stops the bombs being disarmed, or jettisoned?”

   With calm eyes, Cooper replied, “Each of the bombs will be guarded until the time of detonation, to prevent that from happening. One per device should suffice; the rest of the platoon can make for the escape pods.”

   “Who stays?” Barbara asked, her voice a monotone.

   “That would be a matter for volunteers.”

   “Which means you, Sergeant Forrest, and Lance-Sergeant Fuller,” Caine said. “Am I right?”

   “Yes, ma’am,” Cooper replied. “The rest of the men will have a fighting chance of getting clear of the blast zone, and naturally, we will warn the remainder of the crew of the Zeus to evacuate.”

   “This is crazy,” Barbara said. “You’d be throwing your life away, and you couldn’t get in anyway. How do you get through their defenses?”

   “A fighter escort,” Dixon replied. “All four of us in arrowhead formation. If all we were doing was running defense, and we tied all the fighter and shuttle computers into a single network, we might have a chance.”

   “I can handle the engineering,” Quinn said. “And can fly one of the shuttles.”

   “Lieutenant, you’ll be needed here on Alamo,” Marshall said. “Does anyone have another idea?” Silence filled the room, and he continued, “Ensign, I would want it understood that destroying that ship is a last resort. This is not a suicide mission. As far as I am concerned, you are coming back.”

   “Of course, sir. I’m not in any hurry to die.”

   “You could have fooled me,” Barbara said.

   “This is the only way we’re going to stop that ship,” Cooper said, “and if we don’t get past it, everyone on this ship is dead anyway. I’m willing to take the chance.”

   “There is another possibility,” Ryder said. “Get Alamo to Mars orbit, then have everyone pile into the escape pods with copies of all the material we’ve gathered. Someone might make it down.”

   “Or they might just pick off everyone at will on their way down,” Marshall replied. “I don’t think Zakharova is particularly merciful, do you?”

   “Probably not,” Ryder said. “I was just trying to come up with another option. On balance, I endorse Cooper’s plan. Request permission to accompany the attack force.”

   “Denied,” Marshall said. “Your place is on the bridge. We have enough shuttle pilots for the job.” With a thin smile, he said, “I’m half tempted to go along myself and turn command of Alamo over to you, Ryder. I’ll stick it out here if you do.” Looking around the room, he said, “Only the Espatiers on the shuttles, along with the pilots. The fighter wing I’ll leave to Dixon’s discretion.”

   “Then my plan is approved, sir?” Cooper asked.

   “Reluctantly, yes, I agree. I don’t like it, Ensign, I don’t like it one bit.”

   “Neither do I, sir.”

   “Dixon, you will command while the formation is making its way across to Zeus, with Cooper taking over as soon as you get to the airlocks. Understood?”

   “Yes, sir,” Dixon said.

   “Aye, Captain,” Cooper added.

   Looking at the two of them, he said, “You’ve got a little over nineteen hours to get yourselves ready. I suggest you brief your people, then make sure they get some rest before the mission.” He paused, then said, “I wouldn’t be going along with this if there was any other way.”

   “We understand, sir,” Dixon said. “I think it’s a good plan.”

   Standing up, Quinn said, “I’ll get started on the charges now, Cooper. I think I can give you some nice toys to play with; have your people head over to the armory in about six hours for a briefing.”

   “I thought these were standard models?” Caine asked.

   “Theoretically, they are, but I’m pretty sure that I can make a few improvements. I might as well do the best job I can.”

   “Why do all engineers have a fascination with blowing things up?” Ryder asked, trying for a smile and almost succeeding.

   “I think we’re all masochists at heart, Lieutenant. Or we wouldn’t be in the job in the first place. By your leave, Captain.”

   “One more thing,” he said. “All hands are to get at least eight hours’ sleep in the next eighteen. No protests, that’s an order. That goes especially for all watchstanders; if you can’t get any sleep, get something from the doctor.”

   "Are you going to do that, Danny?” Caine asked.

   “You want to come into my cabin and watch me sleep?”

   “I might take you up on that someday,” she said with a smile.

   “Then dismissed, everyone,” Marshall said, leading the way out of the room.

   “Bradley,” Dixon said as she left, “Head down to the flight deck. I want you and the others briefed on our formation, then we’re going to hit the simulators for a few hours.”

   “Yes, ma’am,” she said. After a moment, she and Cooper were alone, and she said, “What do you think you are doing?”

   “My job, Barbara. Hell, you think you’ve got problems? Quinn’s got to sit down in engineering and watch his wife go out to fight. You at least get to fight during the battle.”

   “And you get to kill yourself.”

   “You’d have been riding fire whatever happened. This way we get a chance of actually winning this one.”

   “Damn it, Cooper…”

   “Look,” he said, softly, “I’ve been living on borrowed time since the first go-around at Hades Station. So have we all, in a way, everyone who went on that mad flight through Cabal space. Think about Forrest. He was held captive by those bastards for months, and still went on for another crack at them.”

   “It’s not fair, dammit. You’ve done enough.”

   With a smile, he replied, “I don’t necessarily disagree with you. Life isn’t fair, at least not for us grunts.”

   “You don’t have to stay with the bomb,” she said. “Lomax, or…”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “Don’t automatically assume that I’m going to fail. I want to take that bridge, see home again. Maybe I’ll finally get to go to OCS. But if it comes to it, and we have to blow up that ship, I have to be one of the ones who stay. It’s my decision, and my command, and my responsibility.”

   “Damn it, Gabe,” she said, blinking away tears. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that this isn’t what you are meant to be doing.” Grabbing his arm, she said, “Win, damn it. Come back alive. You understand?”

   “If there’s any way to live through this madness, I’ll find it. You have my word on that.”

  Chapter 24

   The shuttle banked low over the Senate Dome, already in violation of a dozen flight regulations, as Nelyubov played the thrusters to bring it down as close to the entrance as he dared. Orlova stood in the airlock, already wearing her spacesuit, Senator Harper standing next to her.

   “We’ve got to take off as soon as you get out,” Chambers said. “Are you sure you’ve got everything?”

   “No,” Orlova replied. “We’re going to have to trust to luck, that’s all. What’s the count?”

   “Nineteen hours and fifty-seven minutes from my mark. Mark,” she said. “Got that?”

   “I’ve got it,” she said.

   “Give ‘em hell, Maggie,” Chambers said, clapping her on the shoulder as the shuttle landed. “We’ll be watching for as long as we can.”

   The two suited figures stepped into the airlock, Nelyubov opening the outer door before full depressurization to save time, sending them both staggering out into the dust. Not the most dignified way to arrive, but the fastest. Pres
s cars were everywhere outside, most of the occupants likely already clustered inside for the kill, a few unlucky ones remaining to cover the landing.

   As the shuttle took off, a pair of uniformed guards raced forward, both of them with pistols in their hands pointed at Orlova, stern expressions on their faces.”

   “Lieutenant Margaret Orlova,” one said, “you are under arrest on charges of espionage, conspiracy and treason. If you will come with us?”

   “I am Senator Orlova,” she replied, “not Lieutenant, and as such have immunity from arrest. Or are you going to shoot me in cold blood outside the Senate with all these nice people from the press watching.”

   The two of them looked at each other, and the first one said with a sneer, “We’ll be waiting outside, Senator, and I don’t think your tenure is going to last very long. Have fun.”

   Walking quickly past them, Orlova and Harper made their way through the tall, ornate airlock, sweeping past a security checkpoint to a waiting throng of people inside. As she suspected, the entrance hall was filled with journalists, pundits, and political hangers-on. A cluster of Republic democrats stood at the far end, looking with interest. She wondered which side they were on in this conflict.

   “Senator Harper, Senator Orlova,” a severe-looking woman in a suit said, “Session will commence in ninety seconds. If you come with me, I will show you to your seats.”

   “Any statement, Maggie?” one of the journalists yelled.

   “Not right now,” she replied, “but hang around. I think you’re going to get a good story out of this, whatever happens in the next few minutes.”

   Long ago, when she was in school, she was taken on a tour of the Senate Dome, a trip that most children made at some point, a chance to personally look at the beating heart of their democracy. Her class had visited while the Senate was resting, one of the periodic breaks to allow the representatives to return to their constituencies to consult the people they were representing, so she hadn’t seen them at work, but as compensation, they had been allowed to look around the Senate Chamber itself. It had impressed her then, and as she was ushered in by the clerk, it impressed her once again.