“We have eight shuttles and one reserve,” Harrison continued. “The reserve shuttle will launch with the others, has a target of its own, but their objective is one of the secondary landing sites. If one of the other shuttles has a problem, they will take their place.”
“Again,” McBride said, “I will stress that we expect you to have a clean, safe run all the way down to the surface. As soon as Icarus appears in orbit, that’s the cue for the uprising to begin. The local computer network will go down, as will orbital and atmospheric traffic control. The garrisons will come under attack from agents that in some cases have spent years infiltrating the staff. Key Belter officials will be taken out, to break the chain of command, though we intend to spare Governor Markov for the present…”
“That butcher?” the old man said. “He should be tossed out of the nearest airlock after what he’s done.”
“There has to be someone to surrender,” Carter said, turning to the pilot, who glared at her in response. “You always leave the top man alive unless there’s no other choice. Saves bloodshed. Besides, the dead deserve a trial.” That seemed to mollify the veteran pilot, who nodded in reluctant approval.
“He will, of course, be taken into custody. Phase One of the operation will be undertaken by ground forces alone. Phase Two takes place in orbital, as Avenger secures local space. For your information, we know that Avenger is on the way. We’re tracking their warp signature behind us.” Harrison frowned, then added, “We don’t know, I’m afraid, exactly when they’ll arrive.”
Another of the pilots, the only one wearing a clean flight suit, almost suspiciously so, said, “Why the hell aren’t they on time?”
“Because they had to cover our escape,” McBride replied, “as well as retrieve the people we were forced to leave behind on the surface. Avenger is faster than us. They can catch up. Our best guesses have them arriving in system anywhere from five minutes ahead of us to ten minutes behind. It hardly matters, either way. It’ll only throw the local defensive forces into even more chaos.”
“Phase Three, then, is ours,” Harrison said. “Icarus will provide support in a command and control complex, coordinating the rebellion from orbit, I hope with cover from Avenger to keep any enemy forces off our backs. Once that is over, once the mission is complete, Phase Four is the mopping-up operation and the installation of the orbital defense network. We expect the enemy to immediately call for help, so we must at all costs have the network up and running within twenty-four hours of the rebellion.”
“That’s it,” McBride said. “That’s the plan. We have to move quickly and decisively for this to work, and I’m counting on each and every one of you to play their part to the full in completing this operation. As are fifty thousand people on Atlantis.” He paused, then added, “I shouldn’t need to say this, but we’re better than they are. Better than the Belters. Prove that today with your conduct during the battle. Take prisoners. Don’t shoot to kill in cold blood. As Lieutenant Carter said, the dead deserve a trial.”
“Go get something to eat. The mess has prepared some half-decent food for once, so take advantage of it. Study the assault plans, and if you have any questions or thoughts, bring them to either myself or the Commodore right away. There’s some room for modifications, especially on the descent track, and obviously we’re going to do everything we possibly can to make this mission work. I know you’ll do the same. Dismissed.” She paused, then added, “Lieutenant Carter, could you and your crew remain?”
Carter glanced at Malone and Ulyanov, and the trio remained in position as the others walked out of the room, the old man throwing her a foul stare as he passed her, most of the rest either ignoring them or sharing their sentiments. After a moment, only McBride and Harrison remained with them.
“Nice people,” Carter said.
“No, they aren’t,” Harrison replied. “They are what the Belters made them. Angry, paranoid, suspicious, ruthless. I trust them to do their job. Right now, that’s all that matters.” She paused, then said, “Though that’s why I’ve given you three the toughest assignment of all, based on your military training. Commodore McBride has assured me that you’re more than up to the task.”
“What’s the mission?” Malone asked.
“A rescue operation,” McBride replied. “Two weeks ago, the man we chose as the Provisional President of Atlantis was arrested in a general round-up of political activists. Just bad luck, really. His name is Sam Bellini, and he’s a labor union organizer, one of the few who has operated publicly. He’s a hero to the local population, and I’m afraid there are going to be reprisals once the fighting begins.”
“You think they’ll kill him,” Carter asked. “Or try and hold him hostage to use as a bargaining chip?”
“That’s a possibility we can’t ignore,” Harrison replied. “The prison is located in the foothills of the Mountains of Inaccessibility. As you’ll see from the orbital footage, that’s an all-too-appropriate name for the place. Lots of high mountains, rocks, valleys. There are quite a few small prospecting bases there as well, though, operating under the radar.
“Close to a maximum-security facility?” asked Malone.
“Some money changed hands,” McBride said. “Many of them use prison labor to cut the costs down. It’s not as though the Belters give a damn about the long-term life expectancy of their prisoners. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if they’d actually rigged the place to explode at the touch of a button. That’s where you come in. You’ll be landing first, three minutes ahead of the others, and your mission is simple. Find Bellini and get him to safety. He’s your absolute top priority. Naturally, if you can rescue anyone else, by all means. We’ve got blueprints of the prison, details on the guard roster, and anything else you might want. The local rebel forces will be ordered to report to you. This is your mission. You set the rules.”
Looking at the flag officer, Carter said, “You want me to plan a raid on a heavily-defended installation over a cup of coffee and a Danish, with a strike crew that includes two engineers, a sensor technician, and a few miners.”
“I have every confidence…”
“Christ, Commodore, you might as well be honest about this,” she said, as Ulyanov and Malone looked at her, panic in their eyes. “We’re the decoy. This is one of those secondary targets. You’re hoping that they’ll think, at least for a few minutes, that the unrest is cover for a raid on the political prison, and that they’ll start to move some of their forces around accordingly.”
“Lieutenant,” McBride began, “I have given…”
“You’re right,” Harrison interrupted. “You are a decoy. We didn’t expect to have you on this ship, we didn’t expect to have an extra shuttle, and we managed to get hold of more hand weapons than we counted upon. That being the case, the Commodore and I put our heads together and decided how best we could make use of our unexpected resources, and for better or for worse, this was the result. Do you have an objection?”
“To the mission? No. It makes sense, and I would probably have come up with something similar myself. To being lied to, absolutely. Especially given that it might reduce our possibilities of success. If I know we’re a decoy, we’ll make a lot more noise going in. Draw as much attention as possible.”
Nodding, McBride said, “Than we’re on…”
“None of that would have happened if I hadn’t figured out the truth, Commodore. You can throw away all of your security precautions. They don’t matter now. In a few hours, one way or another, this is will be over, long before anyone being sent down to the surface can be taken into an interrogation room. So for God’s sake, sir, be honest. Tell us what we need to know.”
McBride looked at Harrison, and said, “Lieutenant, I have tolerated your attitude up to this point, but there are limitations to how far I can go. Rest assure that I will be providing a full report to your commanding officer…”
“Who will cheer me on, all the way, and support me to the hilt, as you
and I both know,” she replied. “That’s an empty threat in wartime, sir, and given that this mission hasn’t been authorized by anyone, not one that you can back up with any force. We’ll do our job. If you do yours.”
“That,” Harrison said, “is fair enough. Come on, Commodore, we’ve got a lot of work to do in the next few hours, and we can’t waste any more time on this.” Turning to the shuttle crew, she said, “If I don’t have a chance to say this before you leave, good luck, and good hunting. We’re all counting on you.” The two of them walked out of the room, leaving Carter alone with Ulyanov and Malone.
“We’re the decoy?” Ulyanov said. “Lieutenant, this isn’t…”
“None of us is going to die, kid,” she replied. “I will not permit it. We’ll make a noise, and we’ll make an attempt to carry out our mission, but I’m not going to send either of you to their deaths because of a half-baked plan like this.” She sighed, rubbed her forehead, and added, “Now let’s go get that coffee. We’ve got a commando raid to plan.”
Chapter 13
Corrigan watched the countdown clock tick away the minutes, waiting for Avenger to reach Atlantis, praying and hoping that they would be in time to support Icarus and the resistance. He could understand their impatience, even agreed that time was of the essence and that they didn’t dare tarry too long for fear that the Belters would bring up reinforcements that at the very least would drastically increase the death toll, at worst prevent the plan from taking place altogether.
The doors opened behind him, and Todorova came through, looking around the bridge before moving to his side, staring at the viewscreen as though she could will Avenger back to normal space with a glare.
“How long?” she asked.
“Five minutes, eight seconds,” Corrigan replied. “Dixon?”
“We’re at full combat readiness,” Dixon reported. “All weapons hot, defensive systems ready, sensors prepared for target tracking. Everything is just as it should be based on the battle plan Commodore McBride sent to us.” He looked across at his console, and added, “We should emerge two minutes before Icarus, plus or minus one. Tough to precisely track a ship in warp.”
Nodding, Todorova said, “And our equipment?”
“Loaded on a shuttle and ready to go,” Corrigan replied. “That’ll be Shuttle Three. Major Rojek will fly you down.” Reaching for a tablet, he added, “Given that your shuttle wasn’t part of the battle plan, I think the best course of action is for you stand by in reserve until the first wave of shuttles launches. I’m far less sanguine about the chances of making it safely down to the surface as this plan suggests, and you’ll be in a perfect position to take the place of any that gets shot down, or faces greater resistance than expected.”
Shaking her head, she said, “On the condition that the final decision on the target I make for is mine, I agree.” Before Corrigan could reply, she said, “I know the targets, I know the people, I know the mission plan. I helped to write it. The final decision needs to be mine. That’s logic, not ego.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Corrigan replied. “First, we’ve got to get through the first wave of defenses. We have to assume that they’ll be ready and waiting for us. And let me say one thing more. If things look bad, we’re pulling out. Taking a risk is one thing. We don’t do suicide missions. I have more important things for my ship and crew to do. Is that clear and comprehensively understood?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “If it looks like there’s no chance, then I’ll take the shuttle down alone.”
“Sir,” Novak said, “Egress in one minute.”
“All stations show ready for emergence,” Dixon added.
“Particle cannons armed and ready,” said Crawford.
Turning to Todorova, Corrigan said, “Get down to the shuttle. Major Rojek’s doing the flying, and he’s in charge until you hit the surface. If you want some free advice, you’d leave it that way when he’s on the ground. He’s had training in covert operations. You haven’t.”
“Just years of practical experience,” she replied, leaving the bridge. Corrigan looked after her, shaking his head.
“She’s a crusader,” Dixon said. “A fanatic. There’s no point even attempting to reason with someone who has that sort of a mentality. You won’t get anywhere, and it’s a waste of time trying.”
“She’s going to get herself killed,” Corrigan replied.
Nodding, Dixon said, “Probably. There are worse outcomes.” At the reaction on Corrigan’s face, he added, “When she goes down, skipper, she’s going to go down hard, and she’s going to take a lot of people with her. Most of them probably under the illusion that she’s on their side.”
“Thirty seconds,” Novak said. “Let’s hope the information in that data packet is still accurate. If this goes wrong, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble pretty damned quickly. They could have brought half their fleet to the party.”
Shaking his head, Corrigan said, “I doubt if very much, but they’re certainly going to have all of their defenses on maximum alert.” Turning to Singh, he said, “Do we have a revised estimate on Ajax?”
“Six hours of repair time, and that’s being somewhat optimistic about the capabilities of their damage control teams. Twelve’s more likely, especially if they want to fully test their systems before throwing them into a firefight.”
“Then they aren’t going to be a factor for a while,” Corrigan said. He tapped a control, bringing up the provisional strategic display, the information held on the screen derived from that provided by the rebels in the data packet. At best, it was two days old, and a lot had happened in that time that might have changed the picture considerably. At worst, this was all a complicated trap, and they were flying right into it.
As crazy as all of this was, there was still a voice in the back of Corrigan’s head that he couldn’t quite manage to silence, warning that this was too easy, too convenient, that the timing held together just a little too well. There was something else going on. He was sure of that.
He just didn’t have the first idea what it might be.
“Here we go,” Novak said. “Emergence.”
Avenger returned to normal space, the warp field dispersing to reveal the bleak, monochromatic world below, a mix of black desert and white ice reaching down from the poles, a series of winking beacon signals from the surface the only flash of color to break the gloom.
“Contacts, multiple contacts, all around,” Singh reported. “Eight, correction, ten, correction, eleven fighters on approach, bearing directly. Looks like they just detached from an orbital station.” Looking across at a display, he added, “Sigma-Class Interceptors. Faster than us, much less endurance, two missiles but no cannon armament.”
“Pretty old, but pretty deadly,” Dixon said. “Those missiles are nuke-tipped. Low kiloton yield, but if they get through our defenses, they’ll make one hell of a mess of the hull armor.”
“No sign of any other orbital defenses,” Singh said. “Lots of satellites, but nothing with any weapons attached. We’re being painted by about a dozen sensor drones, though. They know exactly who we are and where we’re going. I’m also picking up a lot of comm traffic from the surface, and I don’t think it’s because of us. Not exclusively, anyway. Levels have been consistent since we arrived. Probably the rebellion on the surface.”
“Any sign of Icarus?” Corrigan asked.
“No, sir,” Singh replied, “but I am detecting three other ships of similar design in low orbit. Two of them seem to be climbing to try and make the gravitational threshold, but the third is just hanging close to the orbital station. Readings indicate she’s fully-loaded. If any of them were planning on running, it’d be that one. We wouldn’t be able to intercept if before it got away, and I thought the Belt was dependent on the ore they are extracting down there.”
“Fighters will be on us in less than three minutes,” Dixon warned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they knew w
here we were…” He paused, turned to Corrigan, and said, “Those bastards leaked our arrival time and target to the Belters! We’re being used as a decoy, damn it!”
Corrigan chuckled, and said, “Sounds like something Old Mac would come up with. It’s actually not a bad idea. Even if it does put us right on the firing line. Crawford, I need a firing solution on those fighters. Prioritize the missiles first. Once they’ve launched them, they can’t do anything other than run home to mother. By the time they rearm, the battle will be over.”
“If they go by the book, they’ll launch two combined salvos, ten and ten, with two missiles in reserve,” Crawford replied.
“This far from the front, you can bet their commander will be following the book,” Dixon said. He looked at his monitor, and added, “Commanded by some reservist named Donovan. No record of any military experience. He’s a shuttle jockey according to this.”
“Don’t make any quick assumptions,” Corrigan warned. “We’ve caught them off guard with some unexpected skill, so have they. It’s not a particularly uncommon trick to play.” He looked at the display, and added, “Scan the station. For somewhere this important, eleven is a rather small number of fighters to send into the battle. I’d expect an entire wing.”
“Eleven’s an odd number by itself,” Dixon noted. “Could be some more sabotage going on, back on the station. There wasn’t anything about that in the packet, but for all we know, someone improvised.” He paused, smiled, then added, “Heck, maybe that’s why we’re looking at eleven instead of thirty-six bandits out there.”
“If that’s the case,” Corrigan said, “I’ll buy the saboteur a beer.”
“That could end up being a pretty expensive round,” Novak replied. “Eighty seconds to target. So far it looks nice and conventional to me. No gaps in the formation, a straight, clean run, right out of an exercise.”
“Let’s hope they stay that way,” Crawford said. “I’m locked on. They’re not going to stand a chance if they stay on that trajectory.”
Alone in the Night Page 9
