“Captain?” Cardinal prompted. “Four minutes until we reach firing range.”
“You have your orders,” Carter intoned.
“Is there any way we can fire around them?” Alexander asked, ignoring his XO.
“We could launch missiles with very slight angles of deflection so they spread out in a cone around the targets. Once they pull alongside the colony ships, the laser-armed fragments will have line of sight on any warships hiding in their wake. But given the speed the enemy is traveling, and how close they are to those colony ships, we’re looking at a very short window of attack.
“The good news is our missiles will be at point-blank range, well within ELR, and those colony ships don’t just shield the enemy from us; they’ll also shield our missiles from interception.”
“You’re assuming the Confederacy won’t launch drones and fighters to intercept,” Carter said.
Alexander fixed him with a dark look. “Then our missiles will re-direct their fire until the fighter screen has been eliminated. We’ll keep up our strategy until we punch a hole and hit our intended targets.”
“It’s inefficient. We’ll be throwing away all of the missile fragments with live warheads. There’s no way they’ll be able to go around the colony ships, but if we shoot through them, there’s even a chance that stray debris will damage whatever ships are traveling behind.”
“You can’t win a war if you become the evil that you’re fighting against. The only way to win a war like that is to defeat yourself, so unless you are advocating that we surrender, I suggest we find a way to save as many innocent lives as we can—even if that way is inefficient.”
Carter held his gaze for a number of seconds, his gaze unblinking behind his helmet. “You better clear your strategy with the admiral first. There’s fifteen colony ships left out there, and we’re only targeting two, so I’m sure we’re not the only ones with orders to fire on civilians.”
“Hayes, get me the Liberty on the comms, and make it quick. Clock’s ticking.”
“Yes, sir.”
A few seconds later, Admiral Wilson’s face appeared. He didn’t look happy to see them. “What is it, De Leon?”
Alexander explained his strategy to avoid hitting the colony ships, and the Admiral’s expression darkened. “What do you think this is? The fifth annual war games? Do you think they cared about how many civilians they killed when they nuked LA, New York, or Chicago?”
“We nuked them, too.”
“Exactly, so get your shit together. A few thousand colonists are nothing in the grand scheme of this war, and they’re probably all already dead from radiation and high-G exposure anyway. You want to turn chicken shit on me, you better tell me now so I can put Carter in command.
“Remember, they chose to hide behind their colony ships. We didn’t make them do that. They’re forcing our hands, and on their heads be it. Make no mistake, if you pussyfoot around, you’re going to put the lives of our people in jeopardy, and I will have your ass court-martialed and deported back to whatever shithole you crawled out of. Do we understand each other, Captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Wilson’s expression softened somewhat and he sighed. “I can sympathize with what you are trying to do, and I know why, believe me, but there’ll be time to fix our consciences later.”
Alexander nodded, but said nothing.
“Keep your eyes on the clock. Not long now and it’ll all be over. We’re making history today.”
Another nod. Alexander swallowed past the growing lump in his throat and forced a triumphant smile. The admiral signed off and the screen went back to displaying the blood-red squares of their targets. It was easy to desensitize himself at this point, even to separate himself from his actions and pretend like he didn’t have a choice, but he did have a choice.
He could disobey a direct order, be court-martialed and deported, and lose every personal victory he’d ever made over the past ten years. It would all be for nothing, and he would be back where he’d started, but this time without Caty. Alexander swallowed painfully once more. At least he would know that he’d done the right thing.
Out of the corner of his eye Alexander saw Carter shaking his head.
“I don’t like to say I told you so, Captain, but… there you have it. The admiral is right.”
Alexander resisted the urge to turn and punch Carter. He reminded himself that he’d never make it through Carter’s faceplate anyway.
“One minute to firing, Captain,” Cardinal said. “I assume we’re going to follow orders?” There was a pitiable amount of hope in that question.
Alexander wanted nothing more than to give Cardinal an answer that they could all live with and to hell with the consequences, but the truth was war had been forcing good people to do unspeakable things since the dawn of time.
It was kill or be killed, and he had a greater responsibility to protect his crew and fellow officers of the fleet than he did to safeguard the lives of enemy civilians. If they allowed enemy warships to get into effective laser range, the Confederacy would get their pound of flesh and then some.
“Ten seconds, Captain… It’s now or never.”
Alexander shook his head. Maybe he would go get his memories wiped after this was all over.
“Five seconds…”
“We have our orders,” Alexander croaked. “Open fire, Lieutenant.”
CHAPTER 43
Catalina listened to the shuttle rattle and shake like it was about to fly apart at any second. The main holo display showed gauzy curtains of clouds sweeping by, parting to reveal a broad blue canvas of water below. The height was dizzying. The angle of descent terrifying. Air roared like a living thing against the shuttle’s hull, so loud that Caty could hear it even through her helmet. Beside her, Dorian had cried himself into a snotty mess. His face was flushed and streaked with tears. Between his helmet and her safety harness she felt utterly cut off from her son. Desperate to comfort him, she grabbed one of his flailing hands and squeezed, hoping that touch would convey reassurance and not fear.
The speakers inside her helmet crackled and back was the captain’s voice, sounding tense. “We lost our thrusters, so we’re coasting in. Unfortunately that means we’re going to end up landing in enemy waters, just a few kilometers off the coast of Indonesia. I’ve already alerted the Alliance with our projected landing coordinates, so we should be rescued promptly.”
Caty tried to reach the life vest under her couch once more. This time she managed to get at it. She turned and placed it over Dorian’s head, pulling the drawstrings tight around his neck to make sure it wouldn’t come off. He stopped crying and looked at her, his pudgy face slack and eyes wide with shock. She smiled reassuringly and then tried to grab the vest under his seat for herself. No such luck. She couldn’t reach it, at least not while she was strapped in.
The ocean was getting bigger and bluer, ripples appearing in the canvas. She realized with a start that the water would be teeming with sharks. Even if they survived the landing, they might not survive what came next.
Caty forced herself not to think about it. She reached over and grabbed Dorian’s tiny, black-gloved hand. He wrapped it around her thumb and held on tight.
The shuttle leveled out and ocean rushed by, too close, yet still dizzyingly far below. Flaps deployed, intensifying the roar of air against their hull. The murky white line of the horizon turned golden as the sun came sparkling in, kissing the waves with diamonds.
The sun was rising in the East.
Water blurred by, faster and faster, nearer and nearer until it was so close, Caty felt like she could reach out and touch it. As they came eye level with the horizon, Caty thought she saw a glimmer of green peeking through the white haze.
“Brace for landing!” the captain announced.
Suddenly the shuttle deployed air brakes and extended flaps to full. Air roared against those surfaces with renewed fury, shaking the shuttle like a leaf.
&n
bsp; Caty gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.
The shuttle jerked suddenly, and then they were free, flying… she opened her eyes wide just in time to see them touch down again.
Slap! The shuttle hit the water and she slammed into her safety harness. Water roared against the hull with deafening fury as the shuttle skipped along the waves like a giant speedboat. They slid onward for at least a hundred meters; then the braking forces eased and her harness stopped digging into her shoulders.
Caty blinked.
They were alive.
Her gaze fell on Dorian and her maternal instinct took over. She had to get him to safety. Nothing else mattered.
Someone came on the comms directing people to proceed to the nearest exits in an orderly fashion. She undid her harness in a rush. Her relief tubes withdrew and disconnected automatically. She disconnected the nutrient line herself and reached over to repeat the process for Dorian. Then she picked him up out of his couch and stood on shaking legs.
The cabin was already crowded with colonists pushing and shoving each other in their frenzy to escape. Someone stumbled into her from behind, and she whirled around with an angry look. The person who’d shoved her made no attempt to apologize. He could have made her drop Dorian! Scowling, she turned and started down the row of seats.
One of the officers who’d been with them in the cabin shouted over the comms for people to please remain calm, but no one listened. Caty’s eyes darted around the cabin, searching for the nearest exit. She spied the strips of emergency lighting and followed them to an exit two rows behind her.
“All right, Dorian. Hang on,” she said, steeling herself before plunging into a seething crowd of elbows and knees. She held Dorian close, shielding him with her arms. Exits sprang open, letting blinding streams of light in. Caty saw the deep blue sea come lapping up and foaming into the cabin. The exit she was aiming for lay directly over the wing, so there was no inflatable evacuation slide waiting to double as a life raft.
The colonists shuffled and shoved their way to the exit, pushing Caty along like flotsam in a river. A few people appeared to notice the baby in her arms and kept their elbows to themselves.
Then she reached the exit. Seeing water gushing over the wing in a slippery stream, she hesitated, but someone pushed her out. She tripped, screaming as she fell. She managed not to drop Dorian or land with her weight on top of him by landing on her elbows instead. A sharp spike of pain was her reward.
Someone helped her up and asked her over his external speakers if she and her baby were okay. She nodded mutely, having forgotten how to activate her own helmet speakers.
The wing was just as slippery as it looked. Caty took cautious steps, letting the stranger help her along to the tip of the wing, away from the press of the crowd. She watched people jumping into the water and sliding down the flaps with frantic splashes. The man holding her arm shook his head.
“Don’t try it,” he said. “You don’t have a vest.” Caty blinked. She’d forgotten to get the vest under Dorian’s couch! Turning to the man in horror, she watched him take the vest off his own shoulders and place it over hers. Then he pulled the tabs and it inflated with a sudden puff of air. He reached over and did the same for Dorian.
She’d even forgotten to inflate Dorian’s vest. How could she be so careless?
The stranger flashed her a sympathetic smile from behind his helmet. That was when she noticed the rank insignia on his pressure suit—a silver eagle. He was a captain, just like Alexander. This had to be the shuttle captain.
“Now we can go. You ready for a swim? I can take your baby if you need help.”
She shook her head and clutched Dorian tighter.
“All right, but you better swim fast. If we don’t hurry, I’m afraid there won’t be any room left for us on board that raft,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Caty followed his gesture to a bright yellow raft busy cruising out from the rearmost exit of the shuttle. Bobbing yellow life vests and shiny white helmets clogged the water all around it. She nodded and the captain jumped off the wing with a splash. He looked back to see if she had followed and then called up to her with muffled, water-logged speakers. “Come on!”
Trying not to think about sharks, she jumped in with Dorian. They bobbed straight up, and she kicked furiously, holding Dorian out in front of her. A big swell hit them and she watched the water run over her faceplate in a blurry stream. At least she didn’t have to worry about her or Dorian swallowing water. The air intakes in their suits were self-sealing.
Caty saw the captain swimming for the raft and she kicked after him, determined not to lose sight of him in a sea of matching white helmets. They joined the greedy press of people around the raft, and the captain called out to one of his officers waiting on board. That officer raised a flare gun and fired it to get everyone’s attention before calling out in a megaphone voice, “Make way for the captain!”
Caty was surprised people actually listened.
They reached the raft and a pair of officers with the gleaming silver bars of lieutenants reached down to help their captain up into the raft. Colonists crowded into the empty space he left, arms grasping for safety.
Somehow the captain and his crew managed to reach past them to her. She held Dorian high and they took him first. Then they grabbed her outstretched hands and pulled her up, too. Caty mouthed her thanks, and the captain nodded, passing her baby back to her. Dorian had grown so tired of crying that he was actually quiet. Caty saw that the raft was already packed full. No more room, but colonists were still struggling to pull themselves up the sides. The megaphone voice returned.
“Everyone to the next available raft! We are already at capacity. Make way!”
People screamed and cried out objections, their speakers burbling in the water, but the raft left without them, pushed along with ever-increasing speed by some unseen motor.
Caty watched the receding mass of people, arms clawing after them, furious to be abandoned. She shook her head, just as shocked as they must have been.
“Time is critical,” someone whispered beside her. She saw that it was one of the lieutenants who had helped the captain up. The blank stare she gave him prompted further explanation.
“This is Confederate territory, and you can bet they saw our shuttle coming down. We need to get to shore and find some place to hide before they come for us or we’re going to become hostages and bargaining chips.”
Caty’s heart thudded in her chest, and her palms began to sweat. It took a few seconds to recover enough from her shock to remember how to activate her own helmet speakers. “Bargaining chips?” she asked.
He nodded gravely. “We’re about to win the war, but that doesn’t mean we’re all suddenly going to be friends. Imagine how many Confederate officers will be able to negotiate leniency for war crimes when they’re holding an Alliance baby hostage.”
Caty felt her whole body grow cold despite the sweaty heat already bleeding through her suit from the Indonesian air. Her knees shook, and she collapsed on the floor of the raft, hugging Dorian close.
The officer speaking with her went down on his haunches in front of her and fixed her with a determined stare. “We’re not going to let that happen, okay? You just hang in there.” He patted his thigh, and Caty noticed the black triangle of a sidearm strapped to his hip.
She nodded and swallowed thickly. He flashed a tight smile and turned away, leaving her to bathe in the cold sweat of her fears. She’d been so worried about surviving the landing and the sharks that she’d completely forgotten they were landing in enemy waters. The lieutenant was right. With the Confederacy about to lose a hundred-year war, Alliance hostages and prisoners would be more valuable than ever.
CHAPTER 44
“61st Squadron is away,” Lieutenant Stone reported.
Alexander nodded. “Good. Tell them to hold position at five thousand klicks and keep an eye out for enemy missiles.”
“Aye,
Captain.”
“Our torpedoes are splitting. One minute to impact, ten seconds to ELR,” Cardinal said from gunnery.
Alexander watched on the tactical as a broad wave of green dots steadily advanced on all fifteen surviving Confederate colony ships. The enemy hadn’t deployed a screen of fighters or drones, and so far they had yet to visibly open fire, so those colony ships were completely defenseless. Alexander shook his head, wondering if they were dealing with a ghost fleet. Maybe Admiral Wilson was right and everyone was already dead.
“ELR reached, firing!”
Alexander looked up, watching on the main holo display as simulated lasers lanced out from laser-armed missile shards. A thousand hair-thin blue lines appeared in staccato bursts of light, all vectoring in on just fifteen targets. Then the warhead-carrying missiles impacted, tearing up the black of space with the fiery reds and golds of computer-generated explosions.
As the fabricated light faded, Alexander exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What’s another thirty thousand victims in a war of millions? he thought bitterly.
“Captain! We’ve got incoming,” Vasquez announced from sensors.
Alexander’s eyes fell on the tactical map. He saw nothing but a confusing mass of red dots. “Get me vectors!” he snapped.
“Calculating!”
A second later, thin red lines with velocities marked appeared on the tactical grid, showing where individual enemy missiles were headed. There were thousands of them, all busy splitting apart into thousands more.
“Those missiles weren’t there a second ago,” Carter mused.
Alexander noted how far away the incoming ordnance was from the Confederate warships that had to have launched them, and he shook his head. “They were hiding behind the transports, so close we couldn’t even detect them. They were hoping we would try to shoot around the colony ships. If we had, those missiles would have gone on undetected until the last possible second. We could have lost our entire fleet.”
New Frontiers- The Complete Series Page 31