by Jay Allan
She made a face, but she nodded as well. “Understood, sir.”
Garret nodded back. “So let’s get through this list.” He looked back down at the large ‘pad on the table. “What about Shogun? She’s old, but she carries four fighter groups. Any chance we can get her moving by the deadline? Even if her lasers are shot, she’s worth having just as a carrier.”
Harmon looked doubtful. Shogun had been the PRC’s flagship over 40 years before, but she’d been two decades in mothballed reserve. “She’s really old, admiral. Her service dates back to the Second Frontier War.”
Garret gave her an icy stare. “So does mine, Camille.” He snorted a short laugh. He’d always felt a little self-deprecating humor served a commander well. It was a good counter for all the hero worship, sincere and otherwise. “Though it’s hard to believe I was ever that young.” He stared at the ‘pad, but for a few moments his mind was elsewhere, drifting slowly across the years gone by. Garret had a lot of memories…and a fair number of regrets too. But he had work to do now, and he cut his self-indulgence short. “Still, I’d like to see if we can get her engines tuned up enough to keep pace.” He slid his finger across the screen, expanding a list of specifications displayed next to the schematic. “See what you can do.”
“Yes, sir.” She was silent for a few seconds, thinking. “Maybe if we strip out the lasers and missiles entirely…make her a pure bomber platform. We could cut the mass. Might be just enough for her to keep up with the fleet.” She looked up from the ‘pad, eyes finding Garret’s. “Her weaponry’s old, and her targeting systems are hopelessly obsolete. She wouldn’t be much good in the line anyway.”
Garret didn’t hesitate. “Do it.” A broken down old battleship wouldn’t be worth much in a missile or energy weapons duel with the enemy, but four extra fighter groups were worth their weight in trans-uranic elements. “But the deadline holds, Camille. Whatever isn’t ready in six days stays behind.” He squinted as he looked over at her.
“Yes, sir.” She wasn’t going to argue; she agreed with him completely on the need to get the rest of the fleet out to the battlezone before any heavy combat started. No one wanted the fleet divided when the climactic battle took place. Still, she understood how seductive it was to push the deadline, telling yourself a few more days will add extra hulls to the OB. Garret wasn’t immune to that thinking either, but he was disciplined, and he’d drawn the line. She doubted anything could change it now…and she knew for damned sure she wouldn’t even try. She’d make sure Shogun was ready in six days.
Chapter 9
Central Pavilion
Armstrong Spaceport
Armstrong - Gamma Pavonis III
“Are you sure you want to go back to Earth?” Sarah Linden’s voice dripped with disdain when she spoke the name of her home world. Her life on Earth was something she’d spent the years since then trying to forget. She had no idea what lay ahead for her, where he life would lead…but she knew she’d need a hell of a reason to go back to Earth.
Alex brushed a wisp of long blond hair out of her face. “I’m sure.” Her voice was soft, a little shaky. Alex Linden was clearly troubled, her usual steady confidence shattered. She was trying to hide it, to look calm and confident, but her normally perfect control was failing her. “I have to, Sarah. I have some things I have to deal with.” Her mind raced as she spoke, her meticulous logic gone, emotions running wild. Is this the sister I’ve hated all these years, she wondered? Those old wounds were still there, the anger, the blame, the lust for vengeance. She remembered her dead parents, the years of squalor, of destitution. For a lifetime she’d blamed Sarah for all of it. But reuniting with her long lost sister had been nothing like she’d expected. There were other feelings there too…confusion, certainly, but was there also affection? It wasn’t possible, she thought…she’d been so resolved in her hatred for so long, so convinced her sister was the cause of her years of misery. Now her resolve was weakening…or was it? Was it reasonable to blame Sarah for all that had happened to their family? She was lost, not sure what to do or think. And for Alex Linden, there was nothing worse than feeling out of control.
Sarah shifted her weight as she stood on the polished floor of the spaceport concourse. She was tense too, clearly worried. She wanted to argue, to convince her sister to stay on Armstrong. She was sure no good could come of going to Earth. But she held herself back. Sarah knew what her life had been as a girl struggling to survive in the violent ghettoes and semi-abandoned suburban wastelands. She’d tried to forget, but of course that wasn’t possible. Some things stayed with you for life. She reminded herself that she had no idea – none – what Alex had gone through, what part of her soul survival had cost her. They’d avoided discussing that part of their lives, neither of them asking anything or offering any information. Sarah had never spoken of that time to anyone, no one except Erik. And she hadn’t told him everything.
“Take care of yourself, Alex.” Sarah tried to hide her disapproval. She had a bad feeling about Alex returning to Earth, but she tried to respect her sister’s wishes. “And come back. I don’t want to wait another thirty years to see my little sister again.” She smiled with genuine affection. In her wildest dreams, Sarah Linden had never dared to imagine that any of her family had survived.
Alex returned the smile, unsure as she did how much sincerity was there. Some, certainly, though that only added to her confusion. Her own emotions were considerably more complex than Sarah’s. “You take care of yourself. I’m not the one shipping out to a warzone.” That was another reason Alex was leaving. Sarah had been gone for months, deployed on Sandoval running the field hospital there. Now she was back, but only for a few weeks, to organize the fleet of hospital ships that would be supporting Grand Fleet. She’d be leaving herself in a few days.
Alex looked at her sister. If you were staying on Armstrong, she thought, I would stay too…and we could finish this, one way or another. Alex had originally intended to kill Sarah, as soon as she’d had the chance to assassinate Erik Cain. But Cain was unreachable now, and Alex’s resolve had faded, leaving her no idea what she felt or what she wanted to do. But she knew she couldn’t remain here on Armstrong, alone, waiting months – years? – for her sister to return. If Sarah came back at all. By all accounts, the battle to come would be the most massive ever fought. She wondered what she would feel if Sarah was killed in the fighting? Vindication? Relief? Sadness? Loss? She didn’t know. No matter how many times she tried to imagine it, she couldn’t guess at what her feelings would be. But she knew she couldn’t stay on Armstrong any longer, alone, waiting. No, Alex had to go back to Earth…and figure out who she truly was.
“I have to go, Alex. The war is too important, and it’s who I am.” Sarah felt guilty being away so frequently, right after her sister had reappeared, but she was a Marine, as much as any of the men and women in powered armor at the front. It was inconceivable to her to remain behind when the cream of the Corps was going to battle. She couldn’t make any other choice, not and be true to who she was. “The Marines need me. I can’t stay here while they fight and die when I could save some of them. But I’ll be back.” She sounded confident. Intellectually, she knew she was going into enormous danger, but Sarah didn’t dwell on the risks. She just did what she had to do, what she felt was right. “And I want you to promise me you’ll come back too.”
Alex rubbed her hands along her thighs, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll try, Sarah.” It might be better for both of us, my dear sister, she thought, if we never see each other again. But she didn’t say anything; she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She looked at Sarah and forced a smile to her face.
“Promise me.” Sarah’s voice was insistent. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her sister. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Alex was silent. She extended her arms and returned Sarah’s hug. Finally, softly, she said, “I promise.” She felt it was a mistake even as it was leaving her lips.
; Gavin Stark was staring at the ‘pad, reading the report with something he rarely experienced…surprise. “My dear little Alex,” he muttered softly to himself. “It appears there is a heart inside that sexy little body after all, even if it is mostly covered in liquid nitrogen.”
Stark had sent Alex to Armstrong to kill Erik Cain, using her sister to get to the troublesome Marine. But the First Imperium invasion had put all that on hold. While mankind faced a menace of this magnitude, even Gavin Stark wanted Erik Cain alive and well, and in the front lines. He’d instructed Alex to abort the assassination for the time being and to remain on Armstrong, providing as much intel as possible. Alliance Intelligence was mostly a bystander in the war against the First Imperium, but that didn’t mean Stark wasn’t interested in everything that was going on. Alex had done just what she was told for a time, but before long her reports became less and less frequent, finally stopping entirely.
Stark found it amusing that it didn’t seem to occur to Alex he’d have someone watching her. Maybe she figured she was good enough to spot any tail…or perhaps she thought she had him so mesmerized with her sexual skills he actually trusted her. “You’re just about the tastiest little treat I’ve ever had, my dear Alex, but that makes me trust you less, not more, silly girl.” Stark’s voice was barely a whisper. Or maybe she knew he was watching her, he thought, and she just didn’t care. If that was the case, she was further gone than he’d guessed.
Alex Linden had always been a stone cold agent, seemingly without weakness or emotion. But she’d spent the last year half-drunk and amped up on Mindblast. Even Stark was stunned to see her lose her composure. As far as he’d ever seen, she rarely drank and never touched drugs. Alex had been the coldest control freak Stark had ever seen…other than the one he saw in the mirror. Now she was falling to pieces, old wounds tearing her apart, ripping down the cold-blooded psyche she’d so painstakingly built. Stark finished the report, leaning back after he was done and looking through the window at the glittering buildings of the Washbalt Core. He muttered softly, thinking out loud really. “How can I use this?”
He wasn’t sure why Alex was coming back to Earth, but he resolved to be careful. She’s probably just running, he thought, or coming home because she was lost and confused. But only a fool would disregard Alex Linden. If she’d turned on him, she would be a dangerous enemy. He’d have to play this one very carefully. He’d always known he’d have to dispose of Alex sooner or later. She was too smart, too capable, too ambitious. In the end, two predators like them could never co-exist. There was only one top spot, and both of them wanted it. No, though he knew he’d miss her, he’d decided long ago that Alex Linden had an expiration date. But he’d hoped to retain the use of her services for a while longer, as an agent…and in more enjoyable ways too. Now, he wasn’t sure. He might have to move up the timetable and terminate her sooner than expected. He’d have to wait until she got back to Earth, until he had a chance to see her…and decide if she was salvageable.
He didn’t need this now. He was about to launch Shadow, and once he pulled the trigger on that there was no turning back. The operation would consume him, he knew that much for sure. Alex knew nothing about Shadow. She was far too intelligent and competent for him to have trusted with that information. Stark had been careful to include only operatives who lacked the initiative and capacity for independent action, individuals he was sure he could control.
He’d hoped Alex could manage most of Alliance Intelligence’s other ongoing operations, many of which, unbeknownst to those involved, provided cover for Shadow. Now he wasn’t sure. He wondered…could Alex be useful for a while longer?
Stark sighed loudly. He’d know about Alex soon enough. Her ship would reach Earth in three weeks, and he’d have an escort waiting for her at the spaceport. She might come in by herself, but Stark wasn’t going to chance it. He couldn’t imagine how many identities she had on Earth, how many secret caches of money and weapons. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t have resources he knew nothing about. No, letting Alex disappear into the dark recesses of the Washbalt Metroplex wasn’t an option. He had to see her as soon as she arrived. Anything else was too risky.
He had no idea what would happen at their conference, no thought as to what to expect. He’d either satisfy himself that Alex was still a reliable asset, and no threat to Shadow or himself…or Alex Linden would never leave that meeting.
Chapter 10
Bridge – AS Indianapolis
Approaching the Sigma 4 Warp Gate
Eight Transits from Newton
Jacobs stared at the main screen as Indianapolis held its position 80,000 kilometers from the warp gate. He knew only too well what lay on the other side of that portal…he was one of the few humans who had ever been there. When Hornet had entered the system well over a year before, it emerged into a beehive of enemy activity. Jacobs knew a lot of those hostile vessels his ship had detected back then later ended up fighting in the Line battles. Many of those didn’t return, having been destroyed in the combats at Sandoval, Garrison, and Samvar. But Jacobs had no idea what forces the enemy had remaining on the other side of the gate, or what reserves they may have brought forward. For all he knew, every vessel the enemy had was waiting just on the other side, ready to ambush any forces that transited.
Captain Mondragon’s people were about to become the first to find out. His 42 ships were in formation, approaching the warp gate at a blistering 0.08c. Once through, they would divide into squadrons, some accelerating further, trying to blast straight through to find any warp gates on the far side, others braking hard, changing vectors to scatter and explore the system. It was a dangerous plan, almost foolhardy, Jacobs thought. But he’d ordered it anyway. It was the only way to quickly get the kind of data Garret and the fleet needed. Jacobs and his entire force were expendable if that’s what it took to get the fleet the intel it needed to defeat the First Imperium. No one had said that, not exactly, but Jacobs knew it was true.
He hadn’t run into another major force since Newton, but there had been smaller enemy patrols in nearly every system. With the First Imperium’s dark energy communications, he had to assume they’d fully apprised the forces farther up the line. Surprise was now a virtual impossibility, so he decided to blanket the system with fast-moving scouts, replacing stealth with speed and numbers. He’d probably lose a lot of those ships, maybe even most. But they’d get the intel he needed. And there was no time to waste. Terrance Compton was moving forward with half of Grand Fleet, and he’d reach Jacobs’ position in less than a week…and he’d need to know what he would face when he got there.
Jacobs’ stomach was tight. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, and the anxiety had only gotten worse since then. He felt like a man who’d escaped from hell and then chosen to return. There was sweat on his neck, and he could feel the heat around his ears and shoulders. The bridge and his survival suit were both set to room temperature, but the droplets began running down his back anyway. He knew what it was, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself. It was fear.
Carp was the only other member of Scouting Fleet’s crew that had been to this place before. He’d been mostly silent for the last few hours, speaking only enough to deliver the bare minimum of reports to Jacobs. The admiral hadn’t asked much of his tactical officer, giving him room to handle the fear in his own way. In the first year or two of the war, the human ground forces had found it difficult to face the enemy. Even veteran units wavered before an adversary that didn’t feel pain, didn’t feel fear…that would fight to the last without doubt or fatigue. Jacobs felt that way now…and he suspected Carp did as well. Defending your home was one thing, but moving forward, lightyears from the furthest reaches of mankind’s dominion, was a chilling enterprise. Jacobs felt alone, overwhelmed…like floating in deep water in the dark, desperately trying to stay afloat, to maintain his focus.
“Sir, Captain Mondragon sends his regards.” Carp’s voice was soft, and
he spoke slowly and deliberately. “He advises his lead vessels will be transiting in three minutes.”
“Very well, commander. Please give Captain…” Jacobs stopped, pausing for an instant. “Please get Captain Mondragon on my com.” The least you can do, he thought to himself, is wish the man luck personally…in all likelihood you’re sending him to his death.
“I have Captain Mondragon for you, sir.”
“Francisco…” Jacobs spoke loudly, his voice commanding, reassuring. He wasn’t sure how he was managing it, but he did. “…I wanted to wish you and your people the best of luck. Your courage is an inspiration to the entire fleet.” He thought he was finished, but a few seconds later he added, “We’ll be coming through in a day, but if you need backup, get a probe back to us, and I’ll bring the fleet through right away.” An empty gesture, he knew. Mondragon’s ships would be blasting directly into the system at almost 10% of lightspeed. Any probe would have to exert enough thrust to decelerate to a stop and re-accelerate back toward the warp gate. By that time, it would be far too late for any reinforcements to matter. No, Mondragon and his people were on their own…at least for a day. And even when the fleet followed, the advanced scouts would be millions of kilometers from the gate, far from any support.
The signal traveled 3 light seconds to Mondragon’s ship, and his response took another 3 seconds to reach Indianapolis. “Thank you, admiral. It is our great honor to undertake this mission. I give you my word, my people will do what is necessary to secure the data the fleet needs.” There was a short pause, then: “Until tomorrow, admiral.”
Jacobs leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was really beginning to like Mondragon, and he knew he’d miss the gruff stocky Basque if he didn’t make it. Sending those ships through was making him physically sick. He’d never had to order anyone to undertake such a hopeless mission before. His people on Hornet had been in grievous danger every moment from the original attack on Adelaide until they made their way back to human space, but Jacobs had been right there; he’d shared their hazards. This was the first time he’d sent his people into danger while he stood back and watched…and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.