The Belt Loop_Book 3_End of an Empire

by Robert B. Jones

  Geoff cut him off. “All the more reason to get him kicked up, Vinny. Get him out of the line, get him in an office somewhere down in Administrative Services. I’m sure I could find something else for him to do other than let him continue to foul our efforts around Bayliss.”

  That was something Paine had not considered. “Okay, that could work, move him to the Admiralty as a way to minimize his slap-dash forays in the void.”

  Geoff laughed a thin little chuckle. “Won’t be the first time someone was offered a sinecure in the Navy. While I don’t think much of Zane’s piloting skills, the man is an unrestricted front line officer, and he is loyal to the Navy and to his mission. He’s just a few shells short of a full magazine.”

  “So, the play has been cast. The scenery is in place, the orchestra is warming up waiting for the curtain to rise. When do you want to do this, sir?”

  Geoff returned to his desk and consulted his reader, bringing up his appointment schedule. “How long will it take to get the four of them back here? Get replacement ships in the line?” he asked.

  Paine looked skyward for a second. “Haad and Fuller are in sector 158.772. That’s a relatively short transit time. Now, we could just recall them individually and leave their commands in place with substitute captains. Send replacement captains out on a courier, bring the new admirals back to Weyring. Curton and Zane are a little further out and that would require a little more work, but they could be here within the week.”

  Geoff thought for a second then said, “Get them all here by 1200 hours on 28 February. I would much rather the ships return to port than an exchange in a battle zone. Sends the wrong message to the troops. Get them back to Weyring soonest, Vinny. We’ll have that show up here at the War College, the one we had planned for three months ago. As a matter of fact, I can hand out the Kreet decorations at the same ceremony. You can pin your new admirals and I can attend to the citations for the crew of the Corpus Christi at the same time. I understand most of the old Christi crew is still with Haad on the Hudson River. Bring the boats in, admiral. We’ll get news coverage, get some positive press out of it, too. Better now than a posthumous award ceremony should any of our heroes get fried by the Varson before they can get their ribbons, I think.”

  “Consider it done, sir. I’ll get the orders cut this day and have them on courier boats by 0800 hours tomorrow. So, just to be perfectly clear on this, we’re talking Haad, Curton, Fuller and Zane?”

  “Yes,” Vice Admiral Stanley Geoff said, “the four of them. And,” he added, pointing a finger at Paine, “speaking of courier boats, I have something I need to share with you, and you alone. I got this message from Canno, from Admiral Teals. Forwarded from Ross, Freehold, Haines, et cetera. This concerns the entire Colonial Navy, Vinny. You especially. Shall we watch it?”

  Vinny Paine squirmed in his seat. He had no idea what was coming next. He simply nodded and sat back.

  Admiral Geoff retrieved the message sphere from his safe and plopped it into his reader.

  Chapter 12

  The last four days had been alternately routine and terrifying. The Hudson River had come under Varson attack three times and had prevailed each time. Captain Fuller proved himself to be an excellent tactician and Haad’s respect for the young officer was growing after each encounter with the enemy. At first Fuller had been eager to lead in all of the battles, anxious to show off his prowess. The man was good, in a brash sort of way, but after the second battle he was politely sent to the back of the line.

  Just two days prior, Captain Haad was preparing to return to his former patrol zone and join up with the group he’d left to lure the Varson ships into Fuller’s battle group. Being a senior captain in the Third Fleet, Haad could make on-the-fly command decisions without question. He was saying his goodbyes to Fuller’s flotilla when a small raiding party of Varson fast-boats armed with conventional weapons jumped Fuller’s group. Haad immediately went into a series of high-speed maneuvers to distance himself from the incoming four boats. That was when Fuller made a tactical mistake. He’d positioned himself and two of his four trailing ships in a way to spear right through the incoming Varson war party from below, popping off heliospasm torpedoes before him. The Varson captains coordinated a star-burst break, winding away from the impact zone at almost ninety-degree turns and by the time the torpedoes exploded they had put 20,000 kilometers of empty space between their ships and the kill zone. Instead of breaking off his lance of ships Fuller decided to pursue the evading Varson war party ship-to-ship, sending each of his destroyers after the four Varson fast-boats.

  By the time Fuller’s group had raced away from the initial battle location, the Varson ships turned about and played a game of spatial chicken with the Colonial Navy vessels. In the confusion that followed Fuller lost one of his ships, the Lake Mead, to incoming broadsides. While not as devastating as energy weapons, a projectile missile fired at close range, traveling at over 18,000 kilometers per hour and impacting a ship moving at twice that speed was a very effective kinetic weapon. It didn’t even have to explode to completely wreck a ship.

  Haad joined the fray and got targeting solutions on two of the Varson ships and reduced them to particulate in a matter of minutes. The ship that had nailed the Lake Mead turned tail and raced for the fold. The last Varson attack boat was hulled by Fuller in the Lake Superior when the enemy turned right into a steady stream of laser fire instead of trying to escape.

  In the aftermath of the battle, communicating ship-to-ship, Captain Haad pointed out to Fuller his mistakes. “Never try to chase them, Mister Fuller. Let them come to you. Your energy weapons can travel a lot faster than your boat. Lead the enemy, let them sail into your beams. Once they get you chasing their tails, you leave your own aft quarters exposed and the action taking place behind you is forgotten at your own peril.”

  The following two days, under Haad’s direct supervision, the remnants of Fuller’s group faired a lot better, getting seven kills out of ten attackers. Satisfied that Fuller was up to speed on his tactics, Haad was ready to head back sunward.

  The incoming courier boat changed all of that.

  * * *

  The eighteen ships making ready to depart Rauud Mithie presented an impressive sight. Bale Phatie was in the lead ship, the Decimator, and his hybrid battle cruiser flagship was followed by seven other hybrid destroyers and four frigates. Six tender boats trailed the main convoy: two supply ships and four oilers laden with compressed hydrogen fuel. The two-week journey to Wilkes was going to be a tedious one. Phatie had conscripted most of Admiral Regiid’s crew from the demonstration sail and the Canno adventure, and they cowered in his presence on the bridge of the Decimator.

  As the mini-fleet assembled in orbit around the planet and the courier and shuttle craft buzzed back and forth between the warships with last minute orders, last minute crew swaps and final lading of the various stores in the assemblage, Phatie finally instructed all commanders and captains to make ready for departure.

  Fields were spun up, ship distances were calculated, courses were plotted into the astrogation computers. The hybrid Dyson Drive systems were slowly brought on line. Since the new fold technology was something Phatie really did not trust completely, he looked over the shoulder of his helmsman as the man punched in the codes. On the navigation screen the flotilla was represented by eighteen luminous lozenge-shaped blips. Numbers crawled down the right side of the screen and thin navigation lines criss-crossed the display. Once the coordinates of the destination system were plotted against the fleet’s current location using a six-point fixed-star referencing interface, the axial positioning lines intersected and flashed the ready light.

  “Helm is ready, my eminence,” Naarid — Mister — Yaggaar said.

  Admiral Regiid looked at the Piru Torgud. “At your pleasure, sir,” he said.

  Bale Phatie surveyed the forward blister. The huge screen was segmented into six smaller displays showing views above and below the fleet, each flank,
and forward and aft. The ships were in acceptable positions, the spacing was adequate, everything looked ready for launch. “Admiral Regiid, have your captains report their readiness. We will not depart until all ships report full green boards.”

  “Mister Sheerd, have each ship report status to the command ship,” Regiid ordered.

  One by one the ships all reported green boards. While awaiting the fleet reports Phatie walked the circular walkway behind the admiral’s command chair and the sound of his chains and medals provided a meanacing wind-chime tinkle to his stroll. Most of the operators at the various consoles did not venture a glance in his direction. Small insignificant violations of the Piru Torgud’s personal gig list could result in swift and permanent demotion from the bridge crew. His aide, Lieutenant Manciir walked a few paces behind him, his reader always at the ready.

  “Sir, all commands report green status boards. We await your orders,” Regiid said from the comm alcove.

  Bale Phatie checked the forward blister one more time. He instructed Mister Sheerd to fill the screen with the forward aspect. A glittering concentration of stars and interstellar dust reminiscent of spilled sand on black cloth. The blazing fire of the Irreea Brauut — the Flame Nebula — with its burning hydrogen fires and stellar nurseries glowed faintly in the lower left corner of the screen.

  “Take us out, admiral,” Phatie said emphatically. “Lieutenant Manciir, note the time. This historical launch will go down in Malguurian history as the pivotal day in the war. Let the Deliverer be praised and may He grant us safe passage to our objective and a triumphant return to His comforting embrace.” It was hard for Phatie to evoke the name of the Malguur God without a smile on his stern face. In his heart he knew that the Deliverer had no interest in this enterprise; a successful mission would depend on full magazines and straight shooting rather than Divine Intelligence. That little soliloquy was for the benefit of his men.

  “Mister Sheerd, open a channel to all ships,” Regiid said.

  “Yes, sir. Channel open, admiral.”

  “This is Admiral Regiid. Departure in one minute. All captains prepare to make way. Maintain your spacing to the fold and do not bunch up. Should you experience any malfunction with your vessel, you must not follow the convoy into folded space. You are hereby ordered back to port should you fail to make the threshold. May the Deliverer be with us on this journey and Hail Malguur! That is all.”

  Admiral Regiid marked a departure time with his helm and when the appointed minute arrived, the fleet departed for Wilkes and in the throat of the Decimator, in its forward tubes, two planet killers awaited their appointed launch orders.

  Chapter 13

  The shuttle boats ferried men and women back and forth between the ships for more than two hours. The recall notice had caught Captain Uri Haad off guard. His orders were explicit and were signed by both Admiral’s Paine and Geoff. Not only was the Hudson River being recalled to Bayliss, but also Captain Fuller’s Lake Superior. The funny part about it, Haad thought, was the fact that he was ordered to reassemble his old Corpus Christi crew. The sixty or so ranks and ratings that had not sailed with him on the Hudson were scattered throughout the Bayliss defensive positions around Brophy-21 and he could not account accurately for all of them. But the seventeen sailors in Fuller’s group could be located and ferried over to his ship.

  The crew transfers could only mean one thing: the Christi’s crew was being decorated for the Kreet episode. He knew some of his crew were out with Pax Curton and Robi Zane and wondered if they had received recall notices as well. His orders also directed him to wait on station until his ship and Fuller’s destroyer was replaced by the remnants from the First out of Canno. Those vessels were in the fold and expected to join up with the combined Second and Third within twenty-four hours.

  Now all the Colonial Navy needed was for the ships sent out to the Belt Loop to return, ready to fight, and they would finally have the upper hand in this shooting war with the Varson Empire.

  Haad was in his ready room, reader in hand, looking at crew lists. Boats were still in the void bringing his original crewmen back to the Hudson and he had a day to complete the personnel movements before turning the mission over to the First.

  A single knock on the door was followed by a chirp from his comm stack. It was Maxine Hansen.

  “Come,” he said.

  “Captain Haad, if you have a minute, sir, I would like to have a word?”

  He stood and waved her in. Lieutenant Maxine Hansen was his communications specialist and had served with him on the Christi. “By all means, lieutenant. What’s on your mind?”

  Max walked up to her captain casually. In his ready room, if one was invited in, the captain was not required to stand on ceremony. He offered her coffee and she declined.

  “I just wanted to know if you could tell me what the recall is all about. Scuttlebutt has it we are going to go up to the War College and get decorated. Is that true?”

  Haad smiled. He thought he could see where this was going. He sat again and crossed his legs. “Well, I guess if you already heard that through the grapevine, there’s no need in me denying it, is there?’

  She let out a big sigh. “Thanks, captain. I was just wondering —”

  He laughed to cut her off. “If you could manage a couple of days with your son?”

  She bent her head slightly and a thin smile worked its way across her face. “That obvious, huh? Gee, I’m going to have to work on my syrup-titious skills.”

  “Your what?” he frowned and said.

  She went on to explain how Harold had told her to be “syrup-titious” when he had told her about the evil cabbie that had been following them around when they first made it to Elber Prime. “What he meant was surreptitious. It’s sort of our private joke.”

  Haad nodded. “How is your young man, Max? Have you heard from him?”

  She looked aound the ready room. The destroyer had given Haad almost three times the room compared to his little cubbyhole back on the Corpus Christi. “I got a message from him at the last mail call. Of course, he hates it there, he says they’re all out to get him, typical Har stuff. But he did say he tested out in all of his mandatories so he’s up to date with his classmates academically. That was good news.”

  “Well, you never really had any doubts about his smarts, right? All that reading he did while he was planning to take over the galaxy down in my cargo hold on the Christi.”

  Max laughed. “Well, I also heard from Ken Royal. You remember Sergeant Royal from the Nova Haven Police Department? Our military liaison guy?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  “As luck would have it, he’s up at the Hayes School as an instructor. He couldn’t get off Bayliss so he went up there looking for work and they hired him. He’s got a law degree, captain. I wasn’t aware of that. Anyway, he’s doing volunteer work in the Physical Education Department and he’s sort of taken a personal interest in Harold. He’s helping him with his humility as best as I can tell.”

  A chuckle from Haad. “That’s great, Max. Harold sure needs a little dose of that treatment.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Listen, let me see what I can do. Maybe an overnighter for you and Harold. As a matter of fact, I’ll have him over to the War College for a ‘special’ award or something for his performance on the bridge of the Christi. That should make his day.”

  “Gosh, would it! That would be great, sir, if you can arrange it, we would both be in your debt.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing about it, lieutenant commander. It’s the least I can do.”

  She was already in her turn for the hatch when she stopped dead in her tracks. “Uh, captain, sir, did you just call me ‘lieutenant commander’?”

  Shit. There’s another cat out of the bag. “Did I?”

  Max Hansen just stared at him.

  “Don’t let that get around, Commander Hansen. There’s going to be a rather large ceremony for the c
rew up at the War College. You, Gertz, Yorn, and a few others have made rank. With all of the officers we’ve lost to the Varson invasion, the Admiralty wants to back-fill as soon as possible.” He stood and offered his hand. “Congratulations, Max. You deserve it,” he added.

  She reached for his hand, thought about it, and first snapped off a smart salute. “Thank you, sir. I will not let you down,” she said confidently after the shake.

  “Fine. Start getting your gear together, commander. We sail as soon as we’re relieved by the First.”

  The comm stack chirped just as she approached the hatch.

  It was Holli Leaf. Haad nodded and Max opened the hatch. The pretty photographer smiled at her and eased into the compartment. “Lieutenant Hansen, have you met Miss Leaf?” Haad said from across the room.

  “Oh, yes. We are pretty good friends, sir. We meet in the open mess for occasional meals when we can.”

  “Hey there, Max. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “Heck no. I was just leaving,” Max said over her shoulder. She made brief eye contact with Holli and winked.

  She had a big smile on her face when she eased the hatch closed behind her. She heard the lever being pulled from the other side. Now if she only had a DO NOT DISTURB sign to hang on the door, things would be perfect.

  * * *

  Eighteen hours later the first of the reconstituted First Fleet of Elber Prime unfolded some 600,000 kilometers from Bayliss. The Mississippi River had survived the jump in one piece, but Captain Dryfus lost one ship prior to the jump. The restored frigate Lake Michigan had a flame-out before the fold and had to vector away from the flotilla. That left thirty-six ships making the jump: twenty-eight warships and eight towed remotes.

  Captain Pax Curton pinged them all, got the correct IFF — Identify Friend or Foe — responses from their transponders and settled in to coordinate the First’s movements within his battle group. He would keep half of the incoming ships at his location and pass along the rest to Captain Fuller. As soon as he was relieved Curton would collect Robi Zane and head to the Weyring Navy Base.