Mancini observed the approach to the Lion on a monitor directly above his CO’s chair. The capital ship they were docking with was a mammoth compared to his tiny vessel. I bet a hundred Growler class boats could fit in that thing. To his knowledge, no one had attempted to park a vessel such as the Tucson inside of a capital ship, but at least a fleet carrier had massive force fields that would’ve easily allowed it. “Nav, reverify range to Sierra One.”
“Conn, navigation. Range now two kilometers.”
“Conn, communications,” his comms officer interjected. “Lion of Judah requests we adjust course one degree to port.”
“Pilot, adjust heading one degree to port.”
“Conn, pilot. Adjust heading one degree to port, aye aye, sir.”
The range continued to close, slowly but steadily. The hangar doors were open on the approach flight deck marked with a large “B,” which the Tucson headed toward. “Pilot, reduce forward speed to ten meters per second,” Mancini ordered as they closed with three hundred meters of the barrier between open space and the interior of the vessel.
After the acknowledgment registered, the ship slowed markedly. A minute later, they were still a hundred meters away. The seconds ticked by, as did the space between them. The moment the Tucson entered the hangar, their landing spot—marked by large strobe lights—was apparent.
“Pilot, slow to two meters per second forward thrust. Center us over the marked area.”
“Conn, pilot, slow forward speed to two meters per second, aye aye, sir.”
A short time later, they sat down with a thud on the hangar deck. The breath Mancini had been holding for what now seemed like an eternity during the approach let out with a deep sigh. “Okay. Good job, everyone. Maybe we’ll get a campaign ribbon for parking inside another ship. COB, secure our fusion reactor and switch to battery power. Get with whoever’s in charge and get an umbilical for power and atmosphere.”
“Aye aye, skipper,” Cosentino replied.
“XO, you have the conn. I’m going to meet the welcoming committee as requested.”
“Aye aye, sir. This is the XO, I have the conn,” Godat said as he stood and switched seats.
* * *
David stood directly outside of the starboard hatch of the stealth raider, along with Master Chief Tinetariro, Aibek, and Kenneth Lowe, who’d come on board earlier in the day, with three hundred other civilian contractors. A small red carpet led away from the Tucson, as he’d ordered all the stops to be taken out to welcome Major Mancini onboard. If I think this is a bit nuts, I’m sure he does too. The hatch swung open, and a smallish man, several centimeters shorter than Tinetariro, strode out. He wore a different uniform than the crew of the Lion—a blue jumpsuit with a black cloth belt fastened with a gold buckle. Rank insignia, country flags, were all the same, with one exception. Instead of the surface warfare officer pin, there was the distinctive gold nebula. It indicated a member of the raider corps.
Immediately at David’s nod, the Master Chief played the pipes.
“Major Nathan Mancini requesting permission to come aboard, General.” He came to attention and brought his hand up to his brow in a sharp salute.
David immediately returned it. “Granted, Major. Welcome aboard the Lion of Judah.”
“Never seen a Growler inside of a capital ship before, General,” Mancini said, relaxing into a parade rest position. “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure we’d fit.”
“We had a rating go out in a spacesuit and measure end to end, twice. Well, two of them. At Master Chief Tinetariro’s insistence.”
Snickers quickly broke out among those gathered around.
Mancini’s mouth curled up into a grin. “Well played, General.”
At least he’s got a sense of humor. David gestured to the tall Saurian. “Allow me to introduce my executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Aibek, Master Chief Tinetariro, and Kenneth Lowe.” He couldn’t help but notice as the Major’s eyes moved from person to person, resting on the tall defense contractor.
“I wasn’t aware we had civilians on this cruise. CIS?”
“Uh, no, Major. Strathclyde Shipboard Integrators. I’m leading the defense contractors,” Kenneth commented. “Pleasure to meet you. My team will be making some modifications to your boat so we can pull this off.”
“No one touches my boat without my permission, Mister Lowe,” Mancini said, his tone harsh.
“Allow me to assure you, Kenneth and his people are some of the good guys when it comes to our civilian friends, Major,” David interjected. “I don’t allow slackers on my ship, and they’ve proven themselves repeatedly. Please accept my personal guarantee on their behalf.” I can’t blame him for questioning.
“Of course, sir.”
David cleared his throat. “Well, with some of the pleasantries are out of the way, shall we? Mission briefing in the main conference room in ten minutes and I don’t like being late.”
They all nodded respectfully and fell in.
Some idle small talk was made during the walk through the hangar, to the nearest gravlift to deck one, but David paid it no attention. The ship’s company had a charged energy about them that was palpable in the air. They’re on edge because we’re off our pattern. I owe the crew an explanation, which will have to come later today. The door slid open to deck one, revealing the same narrow corridor he’d been down thousands of times now. Unlike most days, armed Marine sentries stood guard not only at the end of the passageway that led to the bridge, but also to the conference room. He snapped off a salute, which was crisply returned, and walked into the meeting space beyond.
“General on deck!” Tinetariro bellowed from behind him.
All those assembled sprang to their feet.
David glanced around the room to see First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, the Lion’s tactical action officer, First Lieutenant Shelly Hammond, the navigator, Major Arthur Hanson, the chief engineer. Doctor Tural, Mayweather, Amir, and Calvin were already present as well. “As you were and take your seats.”
They relaxed and sat back down, while Mancini, Aibek, Tinetariro, and Kenneth all found chairs of their own.
“I think that’s everyone,” Tinetariro commented.
“Almost everyone,” Aibek said with a bit of snark.
One more figure came in through the door—Doctor Benjamin Hayworth. The civilian scientist and brilliant mind behind the anti-matter reactor that powered the Lion, he served as an engineering consultant and had stuck around for several years. “I heard that, Colonel. There’s more to life than meetings about meetings, like real science,” he commented, his tone acerbic.
David cranked his head around and flashed a smile. “Thank you for joining us, doctor.” I learned a long time ago not to feed this particular troll. After Hayworth finished making a show out of shuffling to his seat, he continued. “I first want to apologize to those of you on the senior staff I’ve been keeping in the dark the last couple of days. Our new assignment is not only extremely sensitive, but it’s also classified at the highest level. A special code word—Justified Strike—has been established for the duration of the mission, and all of you will have access.”
Eyebrows shot up across almost everyone in the room. Officers exchanged glances with each other, and everyone focused on David.
“We were going to go home, perform a short refit, and then redeploy out to the Orion arm. With the recent—changes—President Spencer has authorized an attack on the League’s shipyard infrastructure.”
“Those are in orbit of Earth,” Ruth said as her jaw dropped open, seeming to rebound off the table. “I’m all for blowing Leaguers out of space, but Earth, really?” She finished her statement with a smirk.
David narrowed his eyes. “Excepting the one at Earth. The League has three main shipyard facilities. We’re going to launch a surprise attack on the other two.” I can sense the doubt in them. “I’m not going to lie to you, to say what we’re about to do is risky, is the understatement of the twenty-fifth
century.” He made eye contact with several of them. “But we’ve been through a lot together, and I know I can count on everyone in this room to get the job done.”
“Sir, if I may?” Hammond interjected.
He nodded.
“From a navigation perspective, it would take a new fleet of ships months to get to the right locations to stage an assault on the League’s primary shipbuilding hubs. Am I right in assuming we have to get this done before the inauguration of President-elect Fuentes?”
“Most ships. Not anti-matter powered ships. They can cover the same distances as the Lion can. Our new Constantine class anti-matter cruisers are ready to fight. Shakedown cruises and space trials are complete. They’ll be joining us at Freedom Station.”
“How about that… the engineering nerds cooked up a few hundred new cruisers right under the League’s nose,” Calvin said with a big grin on his face. “Not bad.”
“There’s six of them,” David stated.
It was as if lightning had struck the table. Everyone in the room turned and stared at David, mouths agape. Ruth was the first to speak. “We’re going to attack the most fortified systems in the League with seven ships?”
David met her eyes with his. “And the element of surprise.”
“Which goes out the window after the first strike.”
“That’s why Major Mancini is here. He commands the CSV Tucson.”
“Nice trick, docking it in our hangar bay. You must have a crackerjack navigator,” Ruth said with a chuckle.
“Raiders aren’t flown by our navigator. An enlisted rating called a pilot does. I kid you not,” Mancini replied.
Amir leaned forward in his seat. “Pilots, flying a ship?”
Mancini turned toward the sound of Amir’s voice. “It’s not a ship. It’s a boat. All raiders are referred to as boats.”
David cleared his throat. “The Tucson will utilize its superior stealth to recon the League systems we’re planning to strike. We’ll develop a detailed tactical plan based on that information. As to the point about losing the element of surprise—each target will be struck simultaneously. One by the Lion of Judah and our escorts, the other by a captured League destroyer. The Tucson will bag one, capture it without causing much damage, and then we’ll load it up with Marines and tier-one operators. They’ll destroy the assigned shipyard by overloading its fusion reactors.”
“Not to question your plan too much, General, but my boat isn’t designed to hold large boarding parties. We can accommodate a special ops team, but not much more,” Mancini replied. “Forget bunk space; there’s not enough food or life support generation onboard.”
“Which is one of the reasons why I’m here, Major,” Kenneth Lowe, the lanky defense contractor, interjected. “We’ll be installing expanded oxygen generators and outfitting your shuttle bay with specially modified assault landers. I think we can get three of them in there. They’ll be outfitted with docking collars that can mate with a League airlock port.”
Mancini narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like civilians on my boat, as I said before.” His tone was icy and direct.
“I’ll vouch one hundred and fifty percent for Mister Lowe,” David said. “He’s always served the Lion well.”
“You found the one decent defense contractor in the galaxy. Congratulations, General.”
I can’t quite tell if he’s trying to mock me. I suppose I’ll learn this guy’s humor in time. After all, I don’t need to be friends with him—as long as he follows my orders and his boat performs, we’ll be fine. David flashed a thin smile. “Something like that.”
“Okay, problem one out of the way. Growlers aren’t built for up-close combat. While we carry a load of Hunter missiles, they’re designed to blow apart smaller ships, not capture them. You guys got a fancy piece of tech for that too?”
“Kenneth?” David prompted.
“Specially modified Hunter missiles designed to generate large scale EMP bursts, and a capture League weapon. We captured it from a drug dealer at Gilead. Quite effective at disabling small ships.”
“Wait, you guys want to put League crap on my boat?” Mancini asked with a twinkle in his eye. “What’s next, we’re going to start belting out the words to the League’s national anthem?”
Everyone snickered, with Ruth even snorting a bit through her laughter.
“I had to live through that accursed piece of music being played by a TCMC band on this ship once,” David said as he thought back to Seville’s short time on the Lion, when they thought there might be a peace. “Never again. No, that’s the short of it. There’s a lot of operational details to work out, but we’ve got a few weeks to do so. Get your crew settled in, Major—the Master Chief has billeting information for everyone onboard. Refit starts bright and early tomorrow AM.”
“The other thing, sir?”
David glanced at Kenneth. Ah, yes, that’s right. I almost forgot. “You’re going to like this one, Colonel Amir.” He grinned at the fighter pilot.
“Oh?” Amir asked.
A big grin broke out on Kenneth’s face. “Have you heard of the automated drone interface system, Colonel?”
Amir raised an eyebrow. “I have not.”
“It’s an integrated drone control platform for Phantom space superiority fighters. Each pod comes with three drones and a shackled artificial intelligence to control them. They can be configured for offensive, or defense, in any combination.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of these devices. Just coming out of R&D, and not expected to deploy in large numbers for another year,” Amir replied.
“I’ve got two hundred upgrade packages. One for every fighter and bomber on the Lion, and a few spares. The eggheads say it’ll double the lethality of each fighter.”
“By Allah, that is wonderful news. Especially when we’ll likely face hordes of League fighters.”
Time to get to work. “Anything else, folks?”
No one had any further inputs.
David glanced around the room and nodded. “Very well. Dismissed.”
There was an orderly rush for the exit as the senior officers got up to leave. Mancini stayed in his chair and made eye contact with David.
Yeah, I’d want to talk too. Once the last person had left the conference room, David flashed a smile. “Well, Major. I apologize for the firehose briefing. We’re on a tight timeline.”
Mancini’s expression was neutral, with no trace of a smile or mirth of any sort. “General, permission to speak freely?”
“Granted.”
“Sir, I need to know my ship isn’t being thrown into a situation it can’t win. I’ve no problem with dying for the cause, before you go thinking I’m a coward. But I’m not throwing away the lives of my crew. I hope you can respect that.”
“Major Mancini, thank you for being direct. I appreciate that quality in an officer. I’ll be equally direct with you. I will never ask you to throw your life away, and especially not the lives of your crew. I try to bring everyone home with me, and the battles I fight without loss of life on our side are the ones I’m most proud of. This isn’t a suicide mission.” As David spoke the words, he wasn’t quite sure if he believed them wholeheartedly or if he was still trying to convince himself. “It’s risky, but the reward justifies the risk. I know you were supposed to get some downtime. I’m sorry you and your crew can’t spend time with your families, but I promise you, knocking out the League’s ability to build ships will ensure we can all spend more time with our loved ones.”
“Thank you, General. Will you allow my officers and me to have input into this plan of yours?”
“Of course. No egos here. One team, one goal, one fight. Anything else, Major?”
“No, sir.”
David stood. “Open invitation for you and your senior staff to dine with my staff in the wardroom tonight.”
Mancini smiled, the expression filling his face. “We’d be happy to. Thank you, sir.”
“Godspeed, Major.”
Whenever he was troubled, David found solace in his faith. At least, he tried to. Such were his thoughts as he opened the hatch to the shul onboard the Lion of Judah. A chapel set aside for use by the Jewish crewmembers and officers, it was a simple space, decorated to look like the inside of a synagogue back on New Israel or Canaan itself. As he strode in, he took his tallit gadol—a prayer shawl with black stripes on it—out of a small cloth bag his mother had made for him. It was among his most prized possessions.
The room was empty, and David took a seat in one of the pews. He closed his eyes and began to pray in Hebrew, rocking back and forth as he did.
After several minutes, someone sat beside him and spoke after he’d finished. “Ah, David. You remembered to pray. This is good.” The voice of Rabbi Kravitz carried in the small space, as full of mirth as always. He fit the role of an old rabbi well. Short and stout, he’d been assigned to the Lion since its maiden mission.
“Even if it's in my chair on the bridge, I always make time for God, Rabbi.”
“You seem troubled.”
David glanced at Kravitz briefly. “Probably because I am. I think a better question is, aren’t you?”
“Never,” Kravitz replied with a broad smile. “I place my trust in God alone.”
I envy him. I wish I could trust only in God. A phrase his mother used to say—“you can’t pray the house clean”—came to mind. “Here we are, going off to fight again, and for the first time, I’m not sure if the people we’re defending even care.”
“Because of the election?”
“Yes,” David said with gritted teeth. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Does not the Torah state that God raises up leaders, sets kings above us, and removes them based on His will?”
“Yes—”
“Then who are we to question it?” Kravitz stared intently at David as he spoke.
“I,” David began, then paused. “You’re right.” He is. I have to set this aside and get on mission. “I guess I don’t or can’t see the point of Fuentes taking power.”
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 6
