Haven Ascendant

by Robert M Kerns

  “They were faster than I anticipated,” Stone remarked. “Ambassador Vance, I now declare before you that I fear for my life and the lives of my family. Accordingly, I wish to file a request for asylum with Beta Magellan.”

  Sev accessed his implant and navigated the menus to send a data burst containing everything he’d just heard in the last ten minutes back to Cole and Srexx via the quantum comms network. Then, he activated his emergency beacon, which also utilized the quantum comms network.

  “I just sent a data burst to Cole,” Sev said.

  “Me, too,” Harlon added. “Did you activate your beacon also?”

  Sev nodded just as the front and back doors exploded inward. Men and women in the armored uniforms of the Tristan’s Gate SDF stormed into the house. Within moments, the residence was secure, and General Trumball strode into the great room. She glared at Stone.

  “Well, well…I guess we moved a little too fast for you, didn’t we, Mister Stone?” Trumball said and turned to Sev and Harlon. “On the authority vested in me by the System President of Tristan’s Gate, I hereby notify you that we are seizing your vessel in the interests of system security and arresting you until such time as you turn over any and all access to and command codes for the vessel. Defense Minister Mattias Stone, I am arresting you on suspicion of disseminating classified information and obstruction of SDF operations. I am authorized to use all necessary force if you resist.”

  Sev smiled as he stood, saying, “You’re too late. He already knows.”

  Sev, Harlon, Jed, Carl, Lindsay, and Stone all took a small amount of pleasure at seeing General Trumball’s jaw slacken just a bit.

  Captain’s Day-Cabin

  Battle-Carrier Haven

  Beta Magellan

  15 September 3003, 13:08 GST

  Cole shrugged his shoulders as he rolled his head in a circle. He’d been sitting at his desk in the day-cabin all morning, working through the recertification exams the ISA required for his collection of ratings, and he was a little stiff in the upper half of his body and almost numb in his lower half.

  “Cole?” the overhead speakers broadcast Srexx’s voice.

  “Yeah, buddy…what’s up?”

  “I have just monitored two data bursts. They are addressed to both of us, and they are from Sev and Harlon. I have also just received notification that they have activated their emergency beacons.”

  Cole took a deep breath. “Thanks, Srexx. Would you please put the data bursts on the main viewscreen in the cabin?”

  Over the next scant minutes, Cole watched the scene involving Defense Minister Stone from both Sev and Harlon’s perspectives, and the longer the data bursts played, the harder Cole’s glare became.

  “If my people have even been scratched, Srexx…”

  “Cole, if I may, I advise restraining one’s emotions until we have more data upon which to base a conclusion and formulate a response. As matters exist now, there is no indication that Sev or Harlon or Defense Minister Stone or anyone else has been harmed. A reasoned, measured response at this juncture might be best.”

  During Srexx’s comments, Cole’s anger ebbed. The situation still offended and angered him, but the initial flare-up of emotion had faded.

  Cole smiled. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate your thoughts as always.”

  “What would you like me to do, Cole?”

  “Notify Sato, Sasha, Garrett, Harlon’s deputy, Sev’s deputy, Painter’s deputy, Paol, and Yeleth’s deputy that I’m calling an emergency meeting. We’ll handle this from a conference room over on Citadel Station. Then, I want you to contact Vasquez and arrange a press conference via comms; I’m going to make sure the Expansion Zone is fully aware of what Tristan’s Gate has done, so they understand our response.”

  “Notifications sent, Cole,” Srexx said as Cole stood and headed for the day-cabin hatch, “and I have just sent word to Captain Vazquez as well.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” Cole said as he exited his day-cabin. “I appreciate you.”

  Cole led Sasha into the conference room aboard Citadel Station to find everyone else waiting. Glances among those already present started circulating around the table when they saw Cole’s expression.

  “Thank you for attending so quickly,” Cole said, assuming his seat at the head of the table. “We have a situation. Srexx, if you would please, play one of the data bursts.”

  A hologram appeared over the table and played through the five to seven minutes before the Tristan’s Gate SDF invaded Carl Vance’s house. By the end of the play-through, shock dominated the expressions around the table.

  “That’s where we stand right now,” Cole stated. “I have already notified Captain Vasquez to assemble representatives of all the news agencies on Babylon Station for a press conference via comms. It is a foregone conclusion in my mind that we’re going after our people. I would like your thoughts on whether our response stops there.”

  “Governments have gone to war over less provocation,” Paol said, “and I can’t imagine the leadership in Tristan’s Gate doesn’t realize that. I’m honestly having difficulty processing what we just watched. It’s…well…it’s absurd and idiotic from a diplomatic perspective.”

  Cole looked to Painter’s deputy, asking, “How many freighters do we have available right now?”

  “There are nine in-system,” he replied.

  “Contact them right now, and inform them that I’m activating their reserve orders. I’m taking Haven’s battlegroup to Tristan’s Gate, and I want freighters with me to offer the opportunity to depart the system for anyone who wishes to do so. People, unless someone talks me out of it, I’m going to sever any and all ties Beta Magellan has with Tristan’s Gate. No trade, no tourism, nothing. As of this date, all Beta-Magellan-flagged ships will be forbidden from visiting Tristan’s Gate, and all ships flagged in Tristan’s Gate will be unwelcome in our space.”

  “Is this going to be a step toward invading the system?” Harlon’s deputy asked.

  Cole shook his head. “No. I do not expand our territory through conquest. Heh…well…except for Baldur, but I consider that to be a special case. Most systems won’t have crime lords in control who also happen to be threatening us.”

  “Wouldn’t that depend on how one defines ‘crime lord?’” Garrett asked.

  Chuckles and more than a few outright laughs erupted around the table, lessening the tension. Cole grinned and gave Garrett a surreptitious nod as thanks.

  “In all seriousness, though,” Cole continued, “we will not start the fight…ever. If Tristan’s Gate thinks they have the wherewithal to conduct a war against us, let them try; we’ll see if they get the point when I park a dreadnought in orbit around Tristan’s Gate. Speaking of that, what’s the status of the dreadnought in the shipyard?”

  Sev’s deputy swallowed as all faces turned to him, but he rallied, saying, “As of this morning, it’s about forty percent complete. They just completed recycling the Indomitable last week, and all of that raw material is either stockpiled or being fed into the construction bay’s fabricators.”

  Cole nodded. “Very well. Anything further? Does anyone disagree with severing all ties and contact with Tristan’s Gate?”

  “It’s actually a rather restrained response,” Garrett opined. “The government of Tristan’s Gate seized a vessel flagged in Beta Magellan and jailed two people carrying formal letters of credence as ambassadors. Once word of this gets out, people will understand our response.”

  “All right then. Put out an advisory to all of our ships that as of fourteen-hundred-thirty hours today, no ship enjoying the protection of Beta Magellan can visit Tristan’s Gate if they wish to continue enjoying said protection. If there’s nothing further, we have a lot to do,” Cole said as he stood, and everyone else stood with him.

  Bridge, Battle-Carrier Haven

  Beta Magellan

  15 September 3003, 13:45 GST

  The bridge seemed to hum with an uncommon level of urgency. Co
le rather liked it; he just wished there was a different reason for it. The port hatch irised open to admit Brianna Vance and two marines; the marines didn’t carry long guns, but they did wear sidearms. If Brianna was unsettled at being escorted to the bridge by armed marines, it didn’t show as she almost marched up to the command chair and snapped to attention.

  “Brianna Vance reporting as ordered, sir!”

  Cole sighed, but it wasn’t the time to revisit the matter of how he should be addressed, saying instead, “At ease, Brianna. I’m afraid the time has finally come where you have to choose. The new leaders of Tristan’s Gate have seen fit to seize the courier ship and imprison Sev and Harlon. I do not care which side you choose, but you must declare your choice now: us or Tristan’s Gate.”

  Brianna gaped at Cole, then shot a disbelieving look at Sasha. Sasha merely nodded.

  “I…they…what were those fools thinking?” Brianna said, her eyes shooting wide as she processed what she’d said and where she’d said it.

  Cole nodded. “That has been a recurring question, but it is immaterial to the moment. I can give you until we arrive in Tristan’s Gate to make up your mind, but you will be restricted to your quarters. I should also tell you that what little systems access you had no longer exists.”

  “How long exactly do I have to decide?” Brianna asked.

  “Once we leave Beta Magellan,” Cole answered, “we’ll arrive in Tristan’s Gate in a little over a day.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Brianna replied and pivoted toward the port hatch, where she was joined by her marine escort.

  As soon as the port hatch irised closed, Cole said, “Comms, record for transmission, please.”

  “You’re on, sir,” the comms tech replied.

  “System leaders of Tristan’s Gate, on the off chance you are unaware who I am, my name is Bartholomew James Coleson. I am sending this message in response to your unwarranted and unprovoked seizure of my personnel and a diplomatic courier vessel earlier today. For clarification’s sake, ‘today’ is September 15th.

  “Please, consider this your formal notification that—in response to your egregious acts—Beta Magellan hereby severs any and all ties between our two systems. As of fourteen-thirty hours on the fifteenth of September, no ship flagged by Beta Magellan may enter your system and still enjoy our protection. Furthermore, I am resigning the reserve commission in Tristan’s Gate SDF, and I feel confident you’ll shortly receive an influx of similar resignations from the people aboard Haven.

  “I anticipate that I will arrive in Tristan’s Gate no later than the seventeenth. When I arrive—if Ambassadors Vance and Hanson are not aboard their consular vessel, unharmed and free to depart the system—I will use whatever level of force I deem necessary to secure the release of my people.

  “In addition to the Haven battlegroup, I am bringing nine freighters outfitted for personnel transport. Any residents of Tristan’s Gate who wish to apply for refugee status in Beta Magellan may request a place aboard one of these freighters for transport back to Gateway, where the application will be reviewed and processed.

  “Thank you for your time and attention. Coleson out.”

  The comms tech soon announced, “Message ready, sir.”

  “Send it,” Cole replied, standing up from the command chair. “Sasha, you have the conn; when all our ships report ready, take us out. I’ll be in the flag briefing room conducting a press conference.”

  That day, breaking news went out to all channels across Human space…or anyone who watched Human news services. Beta Magellan formally severed all ties in response to the egregious seizure of two accredited diplomats and their consular vessel. At the start of the press conference, Cole gave the reporters links to where they could download the letter of credence Cole had given Sev and Harlon, Sev and Harlon’s data bursts, and the recording of his formal response to Tristan’s Gate.

  Within five hours of publication, the story overshot every other story in ratings across most systems.

  Chapter Twenty

  System Periphery

  Tristan’s Gate

  16 September 3003, 23:23 GST

  Cole occupied the command chair on the bridge, and he looked at the tactical plot of the system. The quantum transponder of the courier vessel still indicated it was sitting at the spaceport where Sev and Halon must’ve landed. He was not happy. The silver lining to this particular dark cloud, though, was that the courier vessel was the only Beta Magellan ship in-system…not counting Haven’s battlegroup of course. The port hatch irised open, drawing his attention, and he saw Brianna Vance enter the bridge.

  “Sir,” Brianna said as she approached, “I have prepared my letter of resignation for the Tristan’s Gate SDF. Would you like to review it?”

  Cole shook his head. “I’ll arrange for an interview with Garrett once you’ve notified Tristan’s Gate you no longer work for them.”

  “Aye, sir,” Brianna replied.

  When Brianna didn’t budge, Cole lifted one eyebrow. “Is there anything else?”

  “Sir, you should know that a message was waiting for me on the comms buoy,” Brianna replied. “It contained signed orders from General Trumball, countersigned by the system president, directing me to attempt an assassination. To kill you, sir.”

  The two marines at the port hatch drew their sidearms, and the spacer at the tactical station produced a sidearm of his own. The Ghrexel at the helm swiveled to face Brianna’s back.

  Cole chuckled. “People have wanted me dead before, Brianna. Do you have any intention of acting on those orders?”

  “No, sir,” Brianna said. “I’m not a murderer.”

  Cole glanced around the bridge. The young Ghrexel whom Wixil had asked to serve in her place had swiveled the chair to face the command area; Cole could see her claws already extended. He took in the sidearm held by the spacer at Tactical and the two marines’ drawn sidearms.

  Cole returned his focus to Brianna and smiled, saying, “That’s probably a wise life choice for you.”

  Cole watched Brianna notice the drawn sidearms and saw her become even more still than she had been. She barely seemed even to breathe.

  “If you’d be so kind,” Cole said, “please forward the message containing those orders to me, and if you’ll excuse me, I have chastisement to deliver. Dismissed.”

  Brianna turned toward the port hatch and headed that way, moving very deliberately and with no sudden movements. She was fully aware every pair of eyes on the bridge—except Cole’s—followed her…and not for a reason most eyes followed women.

  “Okay, people,” Cole said as the port hatch irised closed, “the show’s over. Helm, prepare maneuvering orders for the battlegroup; take us to thirty light-minutes outside the traffic patterns of The Gate and Tristan’s World at nine-tenths-light. Weaps, bring up the battlegroup TacNet; unless there’s reason to do so sooner, I’ll be calling the battlegroup to alert status when we’re one light-hour out.”

  Two “Aye, sirs” came back to him.

  Moments later, the spacer at Tactical announced, “TacNet is live, sir!”

  Not even thirty seconds after that, the Ghrexel at the helm reported, “Maneuvering orders plotted, laid in, and uploaded to TacNet, sir!”

  Cole nodded. “Thank you kindly. Helm, engage.”

  The Ghrexel’s fingers flew over the console, and Cole saw the battlegroup start moving in the tactical plot.

  Turning toward the port recess, Cole now said, “Flight Ops, my compliments to the CAG; please inform her I’d like two squadrons and two assault shuttles prepped for launch. Marine Ops, my compliments to Lieutenant Colonel Devereaux; please ask her to begin preparations for a forceful extraction of our people as soon as Srexx locates them.”

  The two spacers returned “Aye, sir” almost in unison.

  A little over nine hours later, the battlegroup reached the one-light-hour demarcation. No SDF ships had even attempted to challenge them during their transit of the system, but it
made sense, really; none of the SDF ships could catch them to challenge them. Instead, what looked to be the entire fleet of the System Defense Force occupied a position of challenge about thirty light-minutes out from the near-station and near-planet traffic patterns.

  Cole sighed as he looked at the tactical plot. He’d hoped they’d be more sensible about this. “Weaps, bring the battlegroup to alert status.”

  The status lights around the bridge shifted from a pleasant green to amber that would flash for thirty seconds before settling to steady. Read-outs appeared on the tactical plot, indicating all shield layers were charging. Cole specifically did not want the charging of weapons to be included as part of the alert status protocol; to his mind, it was too provocative, and Cole had yet to encounter a situation where having weapons ready during an alert made any difference.

  “All decks report secured for alert status,” Jenkins announced, having taken over the comms station.

  “Helm, prepare maneuvering orders for the battlegroup; take us in at one-quarter-light, same course.”

  Moments later, the Ghrexel at the helm reported, “Maneuvering orders plotted, laid in, and uploaded to TacNet.”

  “Thank you, helm; go.”

  At the relatively sedate velocity of one-quarter-light, it would take the battlegroup about two hours to close with the SDF line.

  “Okay, people,” Cole said, pitching his voice so everyone on the bridge would hear, “we have some time. Feel free to order food or drinks. Take a short walk. But I want everyone back at their stations no later than seventy minutes from now.”

  Most of the watch-standers accessed the galley’s delivery menu and ordered breakfast. Cole did as well.

  The seventy minutes came and went with no change in the SDF’s deployment. The ships had not moved or lit off their drives for more than station-keeping thrust.