“I was just thinking about you.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, just couldn’t sleep. Kelly and I have been working with the thunder tethers again today, helping to tow some damaged ships. I miss you,” she had added, as he had started to reply.
“I miss you, too. I want this to end.”
“It will end soon.”
“When they win?” He remembered letting out a mirthless chuckle as he’d typed that.
“When we win, Simon.”
“Do you really think we will?”
A long pause between messages. He had almost decided to set the Kyllini aside and put his head back down.
“We have to believe we will, Simon,” she had written. “We will if we believe strongly enough.”
“Okay.”
A few more messages had followed, Dodds rereading his suggestions of counting sheep or trying to replay the memory of her favourite film in her head, scene for scene, in order to drift off. He suggested she try reading a book. She didn’t fancy that. He scrolled down to the end of the thread.
“I’ll see you soon. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight.”
He found himself reading her messages a lot these days, more so than the ones that he had received from his parents. They always recorded him full video messages, though they came only about once a fortnight, at most. A little over once a month was far more common.
No new ones from them today, either.
No longer asleep, and with no concerns of waking the others, he took the PDA off silent. He should get up and find out what was going on. There were big plans for today, and he should be sure he wasn’t missing out on essential updates. Why hadn’t either of the others woken him? He opened his locker and pulled out two towels from inside, one for the floor and the other for himself, as he headed for the showers. Just as he wondered where Chaz and Enrique had gotten to, his Kyllini jingled. It was a message from Enrique.
“We’re having breakfast. Come and join us when you’re ready.”
*
“Hey,” Dodds said, as he sat down next to Enrique and Chaz.
“Morning,” Enrique said, chewing a mouthful of toast.
“What’s going on? How come you didn’t wake me?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Chaz said, sipping at his coffee. “Both of us have been awake since about four, so we hit the treadmills and then went down to the firing range, to get in what practice they’d allow us.”
Dodds glanced around the messdeck. It wasn’t as full as it normally was, probably only about one third of the tables were occupied. “Are we in jump?” he asked. “Did they kick off the op early or something?”
“No,” Enrique shook his head. “We’re just very low on supplies.”
“Seriously?”
Enrique nodded. “They took inventory last night and figure that we have only about a week’s worth of food left.”
“How come they only found out last night?”
“Captain Liu made the decision,” Chaz said, blowing the top of his coffee a little, to cool it down. “Parks has known for a while that we’ve been out here a lot longer than he originally intended, and was aware that a lot more was destroyed during the encounter at Hyanik than we first thought. He didn’t want to turn us around and lose time, though. So, Liu has decided to enforce rationing for the time being.”
Ah, hell, Dodds thought. They hadn’t had large portions to begin with and meals had become noticeably ever smaller. He subconsciously felt at his belly, certain that he had shed a few pounds in the past few weeks. “What happens if we run out?”
“Guess we’ll have to head back to wherever we can, restock and come back out,” Enrique shrugged, using half of his last piece of toast to mop up the small plate of food that had constituted his breakfast.
“Wouldn’t have much choice, I suppose,” Dodds said.
“Parks probably wouldn’t want to do that,” Chaz said. “He’d force us on with stale bread and water if he could.”
“He’s certain we’ll find Zackaria out here?” Dodds asked.
“Well,” Enrique said, “at this stage, it’s not like we’ve got anything to lose by trying.”
True enough, Dodds thought. He glanced to the serving staff, seeing them not dishing up very much. “I’m going to get some food.”
“I think they’re only serving hot drinks, toast and scrambled eggs,” Enrique called after him.
Dodds returned with just that, plus a little more. He wasn’t all that keen on scrambled egg, but if this was all they were going to get then he should take everything that was on offer.
“Still had beans?” Enrique said.
“Got the last of them,” Dodds answered. “Is this all they had when you arrived?”
“They had bacon and sausage,” Enrique said. “But what little they had they’d served up by the time we got here. Missed the last of the bacon by only a couple of places in the queue. Have you heard from Estelle?” he added.
“No,” Dodds said, starting on the toast as he let his tea stew. “The last message she sent me was about Alpha Centauri. Have you heard anything from Kelly?”
“Just a short note last night, but nothing since.” Enrique nodded in the direction of a man further down the table. “I’ll check again when Suzuki has finished recording a message for his two girls.”
Dodds glanced to the man who was sitting on his own and making use of Enrique’s Kyllini, singing what sounded like a lullaby. Suzuki was a member of the mobile infantry, brought along to aid in ground deployments and boarding operations, and one of a handful that had been transferred to Griffin in case something more was to happen to the Goon Sunrise. Like most of the rest of them, he hadn’t seen too much action since coming aboard. Perhaps the next twenty-four hours would change that.
“Have you heard from anyone, Chaz?” Dodds asked the big man, who merely shook his head. Dodds wondered if Parks was still holding back his messages. He doubted it; neither Parks or the CSN could stand to gain anything from keeping Chaz away from his family any more. Silence descended, with only a clatter of knives and forks, and some mumbles of conversation drifting across from the other occupants of the messdeck. It was anything but upbeat. Not even the staff were saying very much. No laughter, either. That was telling.
Dodds lazily chewed on his toast, unable to hold back the sigh that escaped him.
“Tired?” Chaz said.
“Very.”
“A shower will set you right,” Enrique said.
“That’s not what I meant,” Dodds said, setting the toast back down. “I’m tired of all of this. I know I keep bringing it up,” he added, seeing both Enrique and Chaz turn to focus on other things, “but all we’ve been doing is fighting and losing, fighting and losing, fighting and losing. Ever since Black Widow, we’ve been pushed back further and further, and I just want this to end.”
“I know, mate,” Enrique said. “We all do.”
“War achieves nothing,” Dodds said. “I know that might sound ironic given I enlisted by choice, but there’s a difference between standing in defence of what you believe in and committing genocide on such a tremendous scale. It’s a trite saying that men should solve their problems with words, rather than violence, so I never really appreciated its truth until recently. Nothing has ever been gained through war, except suffering and yet more violence – something those bastards in the Senate didn’t seem to understand. The bloody emperor did, though. At least he knew that peace was only achievable through freedom.” He sat quietly for a time, looking down at his plate. “I’m sorry, guys,” he finished. “I know it’s not as if the Pandorans have given us a choice not to fight. I just … I just needed to get that out.”
“It’s okay, Simon,” Chaz said, his voice soft. “Today has us all rattled.”
Dodds nodded and focused on the remains of his breakfast, intent on getting the food down. Perhaps having it in his belly would cheer and calm him.
“You know,
” Enrique said, picking up his tea and nodding to Dodds’ right, “out of everyone I’ve met in the last few years, it’s kinda funny that he should be one of the ones to survive this long.”
Dodds looked in the direction Enrique indicated, seeing a man sitting opposite a woman, picking at his breakfast. Ah, yes. PJ Burgess, one of the pilots the Knights had been stationed at Mendelah with. Despite the drinking that had been going on that night, Dodds remembered it quite clearly. PJ had been wittering on about what seemed like nothing more than conspiracy stories and tabloid scaremongering nonsense, only for it to all turn out to be true. PJ and his wingmates had later been assigned to Leviathan for Operation Menelaus. Ian Barclay had been the first of that group to be killed in action, putting his life on the line for the defence of Griffin. Casper Heywood and Seth McLeod had gone later, Heywood apparently was shot by deserters and McLeod was taken down during Black Widow. Dodds wasn’t sure what had happened to Katherine Strickland, their wing commander. He hadn’t seen her in years. Now, it looked like PJ was the only member of the Steel Bulls left. A shame no one had paid more attention to him.
“Sometimes it’s good to be paranoid,” Dodds said, taking up another forkful of scrambled eggs. He then saw PJ’s companion slam down her knife and fork before getting up, turning her back on him and walking away without looking back. PJ’s eyes sank to his plate, letting his own cutlery slip from his hands. They had plainly been bickering, perhaps blaming one another for past failures. PJ turned in Dodds’ direction and gave only a sombre nod of acknowledgement. The sequence pretty much summed up the mood of the rest of the messdeck, as far as Dodds was concerned. Tensions were high and everyone was starting to blame each other.
“Ah, good,” a voice came, “I’m glad I found you all here.”
Dodds saw Omar Wyatt, the ship’s head of security, take a seat alongside the three. He looked as tired as always, as though he had barely slept in weeks. Most likely, he hadn’t.
“Everything okay?” Dodds said.
“That largely depends on your definition of ‘okay’,” Wyatt said, indicating towards his few slices of toast. “How’s a man supposed to get through the day starting only with this? No, I came looking for you to let you know that, as per the captain’s instructions, we’ll shortly be commencing jump to Kethlan.”
So, here it was. They were finally heading to the Seat of the Emperor. Dodds felt his chest tighten, accompanied by a sudden urge to leave the table and find a spot in which to hide. He looked at Enrique and Chaz. Both appeared a little unsettled by Wyatt’s confirmation, even though they had known this was the plan all along. Dodds steeled himself, and tried to think positively about the move. “And there’s something important you want us to do when we get there?” he asked.
“Actually, before,” Wyatt said. “Captain Liu wants you three to sit ahead of Griffin during jump, so that you can be ready to engage hostile forces the moment we arrive.” There was a trace of apology in Wyatt’s eyes, matched only by the tone of his voice, as though he had no choice but to send the three men out as the first to be slaughtered.
“That’s a bit short notice,” Enrique said.
“The decision was left with Liu,” Wyatt said, spooning more sugar into his coffee. “After Hyanik, Parks didn’t sleep for nearly three days and Tunstall ordered him to remain in his quarters for a full day to rest – without any disturbances. I think Liu was hoping that Parks might be fit to make the decision before our scheduled departure, but the good doctor bumped the rest period up to two days, and has forbidden him from making any sort of executive decision until he’s taken a good look at him and can clear him for duty.”
“Is Parks okay?” Dodds said.
“He just overstretched himself,” Wyatt said.
“I guess the reception at Krasst was sort of unexpected,” Dodds said, to nods of agreement from Chaz and Enrique.
“Apparently, the transmission received from the Sapper kept most of who saw it up that night. It was like a badly run abattoir on that ship’s bridge, from what I’ve heard,” Wyatt continued, finishing his first piece of toast. “God only knows how the captain was able to maintain command with his eyes and half his face missing. Well, of course I do know how – it’s those damned machines. They’ll keep you going no matter what. He was one of the better off ones, too.”
“Glad I missed the show,” Enrique commented. “I wouldn’t be getting much sleep after that.”
“I’ve not slept for more than four hours a day for the past three years, regardless of what I’ve seen,” Wyatt commented, starting on his next slice of toast. “You get used to it.” There then came a soft jingle from around his ear. The security chief choked down the toast he had been chewing and tapped the small device affixed to his ear. “Wyatt.” A pause to listen. “How serious?” Another pause. Wyatt swore.
“What’s wrong?” Dodds asked.
“Another bloody fight,” Wyatt said. “As if we haven’t got enough problems battling the enemy, without turning on each other over the most petty things.” He looked down at what remained of his breakfast, before gulping down what coffee he could and standing to leave. “The flight deck has been briefed ahead of your arrival. You’ll be briefed yourselves when you get down there. We can’t jump until you’re in position. Don’t be too long.”
“Oi!”
“Hey, look, it was only a bit of bacon …”
“It was mine! I got here early for that!”
“It’s been sitting on your plate for ages and I didn’t think you were going to eat it.”
Dodds saw a man grabbing another man by the throat. The attacker was furious, the other quite surprised by the reaction. From what Dodds could tell, one had decided to help himself to the other’s breakfast. Not a good idea in most circumstances, worse still under these. There were onlookers poised to defend either side.
Wyatt let out an audible sigh. “Never just rains, does it?” he said.
They watched him head over and ask the two men to let go of one another, but the first punch was thrown. Wyatt was heard to request backup, before he thrust himself between them, doing what he could to separate them until assistance arrived. The intervention seemed only to make things worse; two more joined in the struggle. There was a crash as people tumbled onto the table, knocking the food – the cause of the fight – onto the floor. Additional security came running into the messdeck only moments later.
Dodds finished what was on his plate. “Our cue to go?” he said, watching Wyatt’s backup tackling those who weren’t prepared to withdraw from the fight. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” Enrique and Chaz said.
*
Dodds watched Chaz scale the ladder to his ATAF, as he himself waited to be called forward to his own to prep for takeoff. He cast an eye over the body of the black-armoured craft. Over the years it had finally gained those dings and scratches common to many of the navy’s starfighters, permanent mementoes of active service. The scratches here, though, were still few and far between – most likely caused by being shifted around flight decks and undergoing maintenance, rather than having been earned on the field. He had never once seen his shield strength dip into single digits, not at Alba, not at Temper, and not even during Black Widow.
A miracle they had lived beyond that day.
“Dodds,” the OOD called to him as Chaz was taxied forward to the catapult, signalling Dodds to make for the ATAF that had been brought up from the hangar. He did so, ascending the ladder and starting to affix his helmet.
As he worked through the pre-launch safety checks and brought the system online, Dodds thought of what might have been. Though the ATAF remained as powerful as ever – one of the few remaining effective armaments in the CSN’s now-limited arsenal – its true purpose had been left unfulfilled. With the TSBs destroyed, the fighters had been left unable to carry out their original purpose of journeying into Imperial territory and detonating the bombs in the cores of those five select stars. Griffin had bee
n holding position in Atlante for the past day or so now. The star here, the only subgiant of the five that had been selected, had been one of the targets for Operation Sudarberg. Had Sudarberg been accomplished, would he have found himself here anyway? Would Atlante have been his star to destroy?
How different would things have been then? Well, he’d be dead for a start. There would be no coming back from that one. The stars were said to go nova within minutes of the bomb detonating, their core instantly collapsed and their energy parcelled up and flung all around Imperial space, like a cluster bomb. Not all of it would be captured, though, the rest dispersing into the immediate space around, cooking the very system it had been home to and anything that happened to be there at the time. Including the ATAF and its pilot. No amount of shielding could withstand the energy that would have been released in those moments, and no amount of speed could help him to escape the range of the blast. Even if the ATAFs had possessed jump capability, he had been told that the conduit would be unable to save him. It would’ve become unstable the moment it was engulfed by the supernova, collapsing in on him, and either crushing him down to the size of a pinhead or ripping him apart by the very molecules that embodied him.
Would it have been worth it? He recalled Parks’ warning back at Mythos, all those years ago – that an all out war against the Pandoran forces would be totally unwinnable. By the looks of things, he’d been completely right. Dodds could hardly believe it. There had been attempts to rebuild the TSBs, but the Great Panic and the continued invasion of the Independent systems had made the task unachievable. There had been too much infighting, lack of cooperation between splintering nations, and finally a total refusal to allow the Confederation a monopoly on building the bombs. Hand all the power to Helios? Absolutely not. That was why the Independents had constructed the bombs themselves, while the CSN developed the ATAFs, so as to maintain the balance of power. What would be the long-term implications of giving the Confederation both? they had argued. Yes, the Enemy might well be defeated and the war might be won, but would the Confederacy then become an enemy of an altogether different sort?
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 91