by Ken Lozito
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Connor said.
The comms officer returned to her workstation and Reisman came over. “We should consider posting security teams at the hangar bay and the airlocks,” Reisman said.
“Agreed. I wish I knew why they would try to board a ship in the first place. They clearly have ample firepower,” Connor said.
“Vemus. Not sure what that even means,” Reisman said.
“Could be a war cry of some sort. The fact that we can’t find any remains of the Wyatt means they might have been captured instead of destroyed. Two hundred CDF soldiers unaccounted for,” Connor said.
“We haven’t heard from the Banshee either. Do you think they’ve been captured as well?” Reisman asked.
Connor shook his head. “No. Our scans show there were no enemy ships near them. I suspect Savannah went comms silent to protect their position and she’s waiting for our cue on how to proceed. Her greatest weapon is the fact that she’s able to sneak around.”
Reisman tilted his head, considering. “That’s a hell of a gamble.”
“And one we’ll need to account for in our plans,” Connor said.
Reisman blew out a breath. “Good, so you have a plan,” he said with mock severity.
Connor was momentarily taken aback and then snorted. “You’d think after all these years I’d be expecting that kind of crap.”
The doors to the bridge opened and Sean walked in, leading two other men from his team. He turned back and gave them some orders, and they began using handheld scanners to make a sweep of the bridge.
Connor had received a message from Dr. Allen that Colonel Ian Howe had died a short while ago. The body had been preserved. He needed the perpetrators found, but this was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now.
Sean came over. “Sir, we’re making a sweep of the bridge.”
“Do you really expect to find traces of radioactivity here?” Connor asked.
“Leave no stone unturned, sir,” Captain Quinn replied. “We’ve narrowed it down to a specific type of radiation and have found trace amounts of it in the mess hall and in common areas of the ship. We searched through crewman quarters, but that didn’t yield anything.”
Connor glanced over at the two CDF soldiers scanning the bridge. They earned themselves more than one annoyed glance from the busy bridge crew.
“We’ve questioned soldiers who had access to equipment that would extract the substance used to poison Colonel Howe, but they all check out. They all had alibis and a reputation for being loyal to Howe,” Sean said.
The soldiers waited just outside the command area, and Connor gestured for them to come do what they needed to do. The soldiers hastened inside.
“Has Captain Toro turned up anything?” Connor asked.
“He’s chasing down a few leads but nothing so far. We’ve been widening our search beyond the most direct places. Engineer Hatly has been helpful in showing the bare minimum we would need to extract polonium. Unfortunately, a crude setup can be hidden almost anywhere,” Sean said and glanced over at the soldiers who were scanning the area. They’d stopped around the command chair.
“Do you have something, Lieutenant?” Sean asked.
The soldier nodded. “I have trace readings on the arms of the chair and on the terminal interface.”
Connor walked over and looked at the data on the scanner. There was just enough to show that someone who’d been in the command chair had come into contact with the polonium.
“Trace readings though, so not an immediate danger,” Reisman said.
The soldier with the scanner pointed it at Reisman and then at Connor. “You’re fine,” the lieutenant said.
“This narrows things down,” Connor said, glancing at his hands.
Throughout his career as a soldier, people had tried to kill him, but it had always been more direct, such as with a gun in hand.
“Sir, I need your authorization for the command logs to the bridge, as well as your personal quarters and anywhere else you’ve been for the past week,” Sean said.
Reisman’s brows pulled together in surprise and he looked at Connor. “You’re the target?”
Connor clenched his teeth for a moment. “You can have whatever you need. Catch the bastard.”
“Sir, in light of this recent development, I need to assign you a security detail for your own protection. They’ll be with you at all times until this is resolved,” Sean said.
Connor shook his head in disgust. They needed to focus their attention on the enemy, not be suspicious of one another. “Comms, give me a ship-wide broadcast channel,” he said and waited for Sergeant Boers to open the channel. Connor stepped toward the railing that separated the command area from the rest of the bridge. With teeth clenched, he grabbed the metallic bar and squeezed as if he could choke the life from it. “Crew of the Vigilant, this is General Gates,” Connor said, his voice sounding harsh. “I have disturbing news to share with you beyond the enemies nipping at our heels. Colonel Ian Howe has died. He’s been murdered. I realize this comes as a shock to most of you. By all reports, Colonel Howe was highly respected by his crew, and he will be deeply missed. The fact that he was murdered by a despicable act of cowardice leaves little doubt in my mind that we have a traitor in our midst. Colonel Howe was poisoned, and the guilty parties are still at large. Dr. Allen informed me that Colonel Howe succumbed to radiation poisoning. Though Dr. Allen made him as comfortable as possible, it was not gentle. He died in pain and he suffered. Crew of the Vigilant, rest assured that I will do everything in my power to find the people responsible for this and they will be dealt with decisively.” Connor paused with a sneer and glared upwards. “And to the people responsible for this, I know you’re out there, listening on this ship-wide broadcast, wondering what you’re going to do next. Don’t bother. I’m going to find your traitorous ass and I’m going to nail it to the wall. You may be hiding now, scurrying in the shadows, but there is nowhere you can hide from me!”
Connor cut the broadcast. Of all the things they should be focusing on right now, a traitor among them wasn’t at the top of his list. That slippery son of a bitch was going to pay. The one thing above all others that couldn’t be tolerated in any military was a betrayal of one’s own.
Connor swung his gaze toward Sean. “Find who did this.”
Sean leveled his gaze in return. “You have my word, sir. I will find them.”
Connor nodded and turned his gaze back to the main holoscreen. Sean left the bridge and sent in two security officers, posting them just outside the command area.
Reisman came to stand beside him. “You think your speech will smoke out our assassin?”
“I hope so. I have a very short list of people I absolutely trust. You and Sean are on the top of that list,” Connor said.
“It’s going to take more than two of us to survive this,” Reisman said.
“Now we have more than two of us. Howe was loved by his crew. It was a cruel twist of fate that he got caught in the crossfire, but this also proves something else,” Connor said.
“What’s that?”
“This would-be assassin didn’t act alone. Someone told him to do this,” Connor said.
Reisman frowned while he thought about it. “Governor Parish?”
Connor shrugged. “Or one of his supporters. He’s been the most vocal about his thoughts on the CDF. Even if he didn’t give the actual order, someone in his administration did. If we live through what we’re doing out here, I hope we find out who.”
“I’ll make sure the next comms drone we send back has an extra package for Frank Mallory,” Reisman said.
Connor smiled grimly. “Time to move forward with the plan,” he said.
Connor scowled at the command chair. He couldn’t use it until it had been decontaminated. He stood in the middle of the command area with his hands clasped behind him. “Ops, I want a scanner drone deployed. Use only CDF encrypted channels. I want anything remotely related t
o the old NA Alliance protocols isolated from the system. Lock out those options unless I give my express permission.”
“Yes, sir, initiating lockout of Alliance protocols from the system,” Sergeant Browning said.
“Tactical, can you isolate the enemy ship that took the Wyatt?” Connor asked.
“I have its position at the time of the engagement. We’ve been drawing steadily toward Titan Space Station,” Lieutenant LaCroix said.
“Sir, scanner drone has been deployed. Configured to go active on your command,” Sergeant Browning said.
“Acknowledged,” Connor responded.
“Once we activate that drone, they’ll know we’re scanning the area,” Reisman said.
“I’m counting on it. We’ll need to move quickly once we get targeting data,” Connor said.
“What about using the Banshee? I think I have a way to send specific instructions to Major Cross,” Reisman said.
“Now that we know the enemy fleet is made up of NA Alliance military ships, we do have an insight into their capabilities. You find a way to reach the Banshee, and if you succeed, I want her to send her missiles at the main fleet while continuing on toward Titan Space Station,” Connor said.
“We should be within long-range missiles. Kasey will likely have already launched them,” Reisman said.
“Yup, which means our window to find which of these ships has the Wyatt is closing. I’ll leave you to it. I need to speak to LaCroix,” Connor said.
He walked over to the Tactical response work area of the bridge. “Lieutenant, I need you to do a couple of things for me. Some of them will seem unorthodox,” Connor said.
Lieutenant Vladimir LaCroix looked up at Connor. “Ready when you are, sir.”
“First, I want you to bring up the schematics of a Barracuda-class battleship carrier. Mark all the enemy ships identified as having that ship design and give them the designation Vemus,” Connor said.
Lieutenant LaCroix updated the output on the main holoscreen. There were over a hundred ships of the Vemus fleet that had that designation, but there were still many ships that didn’t meet that criteria, and Connor wasn’t sure what they were.
“We’ll need to do this with the known ship types and try to align them with Vemus ships. Allow for a ten percent tolerance to account for that additional exoskeleton the ships seem to have,” Connor said.
“Understood, sir. I have a suggestion,” LaCroix said.
“Go ahead,” Connor replied.
“We do have the ability to deploy mines using a cold launch so they won’t be detected. I’m thinking that littering the battlefield with them and just setting an old-fashioned timer to detonate when the bulk of the enemy fleet is on them would have some lasting results,” LaCroix said.
“That could work and does get around the fact that they can block our communications. I’m just not sure how effective they’ll be,” Connor said.
“Just something to consider, sir,” LaCroix said.
“We’ll hold off on it for now. Once we activate the scanner drone, I’ll need firing solutions fairly rapidly,” Connor said.
“What’s the targeting priority, sir?”
“The way their fleet is deployed makes me think they expect to take their hits at the very front—the line of battle, if you will. I want to bypass them and have our birds hit them in the middle. The HADES IV-B should be able to handle that. How the ships on the line react will reveal which one of them has the Wyatt. They likely latched onto the ship somehow, which would make that ship oddly shaped, unless they try to fit it in the middle hangar. It would be a tight fit, and I expect that ship would be the least likely to react,” Connor said.
“That’s the one you want me to isolate when the scanners go live?” LaCroix asked.
“Yes, and I’ll need a solution for disabling that ship,” Connor said.
“What’s this about disabling a ship?” Reisman asked as he walked over.
Connor glanced over at the colonel. “We’ll need a boarding party of our own, unless we get confirmation that the Wyatt has been destroyed and all her crew lost. Otherwise we go get them back and try to learn more about the enemy,” Connor said.
Reisman’s mouth hung open. “That’s likely to be a one-way trip.”
Connor leveled a look at him. “With as many ships as we’ve snuck aboard, is this any different?”
“Very much so. We don’t even know who’s flying those ships,” Reisman said.
“Exactly. We need more intelligence,” Connor said.
“Let me guess. You want to lead the team over there,” Reisman said.
Connor frowned and leaned back.
“It’s not appropriate for a general to be on the away team,” Reisman said.
“Fine, I’ll promote you to general and demote myself. Either way it’s gonna happen. There’s no one more qualified to lead a team for that,” Connor replied.
“We’ll see about that,” Reisman said.
Lieutenant LaCroix glanced at both of them, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” he muttered.
Connor looked back at LaCroix. “Carry on, and remember what I said about those firing solutions. Do you need additional support?”
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” LaCroix said.
Connor headed back to the command area and Reisman followed him.
“It’s neither here nor there unless we can find them. Otherwise, we’re going to keep picking away at the Vemus. They’re not searching that hard for us given that they just keep heading toward Titan Space Station. Have you found a way to contact the Banshee?” Connor asked.
Reisman gave him a bored expression. “Of course. Just need the final word on the plan and the coordination involved.”
“I’m thinking fire and run,” Connor said.
“Major Cross won’t like that. She likes to fight,” Reisman said.
“She’ll get her chance. Let’s go over the message. Are you sure it won’t be detected?” Connor asked.
“Oh, it’ll be detected, but they won’t be able to read it,” Reisman said.
Connor gave him a look.
“Shouldn’t be able to read it.”
Connor nodded. “Alright, let’s not give the enemy abilities we can’t confirm they have.”
18
“Major, we have an encrypted-channel, one-way communication from the Vigilant,” Lieutenant Daniels said.
The bridge of the Destroyer Banshee became quiet. Major Savannah Cross looked up from her terminal.
“Send it to my screen,” Savannah said.
They’d gone into stealth mode, or as stealthy as any ship of the wall could go. At least the Banshee was designed to loiter in enemy territory.
Savannah waved her XO over.
John Elder returned to the command area and looked at Savannah’s screen.
“Message header looks authentic,” John said.
“I concur,” Savannah said and opened the message.
She read through her orders twice and allowed John to take a look.
“They want us to strike out and then retreat to Titan Space Station,” John said.
“Evidently, General Gates would like to use us as a distraction and as bait. We’re to get the enemy forces to commit their forces to the space station,” Savannah said and sat back in her chair.
She hated those orders but agreed with them at the same time. The preliminary scans they’d managed to salvage from PRADIS showed a huge fleet of ships heading right toward New Earth.
Savannah opened a broadcast channel to her ship. “Crew of the Banshee, this is Major Cross. We’ve just received our orders from the Vigilant. Our enemy is called the Vemus. It’s the only word that could be deciphered from recorded transmissions. Our orders are to strike at the Vemus’s frontlines and draw their attack in toward Titan Space Station, at which time we are to report in to Colonel Douglass on Titan. Stand by for additional orders. We stay at Condition One. Cross
out.”
Savannah closed the broadcast comms channel. “Tactical, in a few minutes’ time we’re going to get targeting data from a scanner drone. We’ll enable PRADIS for a short burst. Then you’ll have a small window in which to formulate a firing solution,” Savannah said.
“Ready, willing, and able, Major,” Sergeant Brennan said.
“Helm, plot a course to Titan. Best speed,” Savannah said.
“Yes, ma’am, best speed to Titan,” the helmsman replied.
Savannah glanced at John Elder. “You’ll want to strap yourself in.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Captain Elder said and hastened to his seat.
Savannah kept her eyes on the main holoscreen, waiting for all hell to break loose.
“Drone activation in one minute, General,” Sergeant Browning said.
“Acknowledged,” Connor replied.
A timer appeared in the upper right corner of the main holoscreen. The onboard computer systems were about to get a heap of much-needed targeting data. Six rail-cannons reported “status ready.” HADES IV missiles were loaded in the remaining tubes. Engineer Hatly had assured him that since they kept the reactors hot the engines could be quickly brought online. Connor didn’t dare give the order before the scanner drone started broadcasting.
The timer dwindled down to zero and a connection status of “waiting for data” appeared on the main screen. Connor counted off in his mind. They were about to get a peek into the battlefield as it was in real time.
Vemus contacts began populating the tactical screen.
“You have thirty seconds, Lieutenant LaCroix,” Connor said.
Connor put up another timer on screen. As the enemy contacts continued to show up on screen, he knew LaCroix was working up a firing solution.
“Fifteen seconds, Lieutenant,” Connor said.
The tactical officer’s fingers flew through the interface as he kept updating the targeting parameters with more Vemus ships.
“Ready for launch,” Lieutenant LaCroix said as the timer reached zero.