David glanced at Sinclair and nodded. “Fine by me. When can we get started?”
“Not until shift change. There are active work crews until 1800 hours. Once they’re off, and the station’s second watch is on duty, we’ll board and get going. I’ll have the oxygen reserves topped off, but there’s not much in the way of food onboard. The best I can do is have some field rations sent down. Anything else will arouse suspicion.”
“Mr. Lowe, if this works out, remind me to talk to you about a job with intelligence,” Sinclair said with a chuckle. “You’ve got the mind of a spy.”
“Thanks, I think.”
* * *
Every time the little group passed someone in a passageway, David felt like their eyes immediately went to him. Probably because I look like I just walked out of a rabbinical school. Still, no one challenged them. It took some time, but eventually, they reached the outer hatch to the Virginia. Two CDF masters-at-arms stood watch, in uniform and sporting sidearms.
Without seemingly an ounce of fear, Kenneth strode up to them. “Private, I have a VIP tour scheduled with these folks.” He turned and gestured to the motley crew following him. “Wave us through, please.”
The two guards exchanged glances. “We had no notification of a VIP tour.”
Kenneth shrugged as he grinned. “Probably not. We’ve got General Cohen here, and he doesn’t like attention, you know what I mean?”
Both masters-at-arms settled their eyes on David and openly gawked. The one in charge came to attention. “I apologize, General, sir. You’re out of uniform, and I didn’t recognize you.”
“It’s okay.” David stepped forward and flashed a smile. “Technically, I’m retired. But I happened to be in the area today, and an old friend told me I needed to see what they’ve done with this stealth raider.”
“By all means, sir.” The guard stepped aside. “I’m sure the entire crew would be honored to have you pay them a visit.”
“Thanks, Private.” David again flashed a smile then stuck his head through the hatch. Growler class boats were small, far smaller than any CDF warship he’d served on. He was pretty sure Lowe was too tall even to be considered for posting on one. That was seemingly confirmed when the lanky defense contractor came in behind him and almost hit the overhead as he stood up straight. “Watch your step, Lowe.”
“I’ll do that, sir.” Lowe stepped to the side as Ruth, Taylor, Sinclair, Alon, and Billings followed him in. “We should get to the control room.”
“You mean the bridge.”
“Ah, no, actually, General,” Billings interjected. “On stealth raiders, it’s the control room.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Golden nebulas are an odd breed.” He turned on his heel and marched off, sure the rest would follow. It didn’t take long, following the central passageway that ran the length of deck one, to reach the control room. David ducked under the hatch and emerged into a tightly packed room filled with consoles and screens. Just like his old destroyer, the CO’s chair was in the middle of the chaos, the XO’s chair directly beside it. Aside from them, the space was empty. Even though it was a far cry from the bridge of the Lion, he couldn’t help but feel at home. As if he was supposed to be there.
“Okay,” Lowe said as he walked in. “Now, we just need to get everyone else but us off.”
“We could gas them and put them into a lifepod once we undock,” Sinclair said as he dropped into one of the empty chairs. “I brought a couple of knock-out grenades with me, just in case.” He hefted the small satchel he carried.
“Not needed, Colonel,” Lowe replied. He broke into a broad grin. “I had all afternoon to figure this out. However we’re dividing up the stations, go ahead and take them. I’ll kick off my plan, and we should be out of here in a few minutes.”
I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve… “Going to enlighten us?”
Lowe continued to grin and showed his teeth. “Nah. This is going to be fun.” He climbed into a harness for one of the backup engineering consoles and started tapping at the controls.
“General,” Billings said as he came in. “I served on a stealth raider… while it's been a few years, I could probably fill the role of COB.”
“COB?”
Billings smiled. “Sorry, old hat. Chief of the Boat. Senior enlisted rating, makes sure things get done. More involved than your master chiefs in the space warfare side of things.”
“If you remember how the controls work, you can call yourself the Tzar of the League of Sol for all I care,” David retorted. He chuckled and inwardly marveled that just being on the raider had lifted his spirits.
“Everyone get strapped in,” Lowe called out. “It’s about to get real.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” David said dryly. “Anything else, sir?”
Laughter rippled across the control room. Ruth, meanwhile, set herself up at the tactical console. “Looks pretty similar to my station on the Lion. Except I had a lot more weapons.”
“If we do this right, we won’t fire a shot,” David replied.
An alarm klaxon sounded, and the lights flashed yellow. The team traded glances as the noise got louder. Kenneth reached over and turned on the ship-wide intercom. “Radiation leak detected in fusion reactor number two. All personnel evacuate the boat immediately. This is not a drill.”
“Fake radiation alarm?” David asked, his tone one of surprise.
“Yup. It’ll clear the remaining workers and get us released from drydock without incident.”
I’m not so sure about that. David sat back in his chair. The contractor had clearly planned out what was happening, so he’d let it play out in the meanwhile.
Billings spoke up from his station. “I show all personnel but us have cleared the airlock.”
“Lock it down,” Kenneth began. “Then disengage the umbilicals and docking collar.”
The Virginia shuddered as the various gantries and cabling that provided station-based power retracted and disconnected from the stealth raider.
“Conn, communications. Churchill Shipyard control is demanding to know what’s going on,” Taylor called out. “Orders?”
“Route it to my console,” Kenneth called out. “I’ve got it.”
Taylor made eye contact with David, who nodded. “Do it.”
A moment later, the image of a rather stern-looking female warrant officer appeared on one of the screens on Kenneth’s station. “What’s going on over there? The Virginia’s not cleared for undocking! Identify yourself at once.”
“Kenneth Lowe, security ID 47-Delta-Foxtrot-Echo. I’ve got a reactor shielding failure with mass radiation casualty. Open the space doors so I can get this tub away from the shipyard before it blows.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open. “Identity print confirmed. Will you have enough time to get to a shuttle?”
“Maybe. Sure would help if you opened those doors.” Kenneth smiled slightly.
“Opening. I’ll get SAR spun up and ready. Godspeed, Lowe.”
“Thank you. Godspeed.” He clicked the channel off and let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Somebody want to fly us outta here?”
“I’ve got it, boss.” Billings slid into the navigation station, and within a few seconds, the stealth raider started to maneuver. “Clearing the shipyard.”
David called up a navigation display on the CO’s screen that showed him their position relative to the moon and other space-borne objects. “Billings, adjust heading to zero-seven-eight, mark negative ten. Maximum speed. Plot a Lawrence jump for the nearest uninhabited system and power up the drive.”
The engine on the small vessel came to life at flank burn, generating maximum delta-V. The increase of G-force was evident, even as the inertial compensator system raced to keep up. A few minutes passed without incident. “Conn, communications. Station control again. They’re demanding we cease thrust and heave to.”
Kenneth glanced back at David. “Sorry, sir. Only a matter of time.”
“I’m impre
ssed your ruse got us this far,” David replied with a smirk on his face. “Quite impressed.”
“Well, a reactor going critical in spacedock is about the worst thing that could happen.” Kenneth shrugged in reply. “Wasn’t too hard to write a small batch program to generate the right false alarms.”
“I told you that one thinks like a spy,” Sinclair interjected.
“No response to station control,” David said as he adjusted himself in the CO’s chair. “EMCON alpha protocol. Shut down all external transmission sources.” Just like riding a bike.
“Uh, sir, we should also rig for ultra-quiet.” Billings’ voice cut into the crosstalk. “Secure everything but essential machinery.”
“I’ll defer to you, COB. Since you’ve done this before.” David offered a smile. “I’m learning on the job.”
Half the lights on the control room dimmed, and the air handlers cut out for the most part. Non-used consoles winked out, and onward the little ship rode. So it went for another fifteen minutes.
“Conn, TAO. Multiple launches from Churchill shipyard. Two Ajax class destroyers, designated Sierra One and Two. One Meade class frigate, designated Sierra Three. They’re overthrusting by at least ten percent and are on a direct intercept course.”
I suppose the CDF doesn’t care for us stealing their ship. David cracked a grin. “Any chance of intercept before we hit the Lawrence limit?”
“None, sir.”
With a satisfied nod, David went back to studying the navigation plot. He was busy determining the best route through Terran Coalition space and how to avoid the still robust CDF patrols. No matter what Rhodes and Barton say, I know the fleet’s doing its job. Being on the other side of his comrades in arms was a suddenly sobering and scary thought. It’s worth it if we can get the evidence to expose the Leaguers.
“Approaching the Lawrence limit,” Billings said.
The sound of the other man’s voice broke into David’s thoughts. He glanced up. “Activate Lawrence drive the moment we’re beyond the limit.”
“Well, sir, I’m all done here. The ship is yours.” Kenneth turned in his chair. “One other thing. I was able to get twelve live Hunter missiles transferred into the tubes. Just in case we run into any unforeseen issues.”
“Boat,” Billings interjected. “Stealth raiders are boats.”
David chuckled. “Point taken—and thank you, Mister Lowe. We’ll try to get it back to the shipyard in one piece.” He turned back to the display as the lights dimmed, and a wormhole appeared in front of the vessel. Once more into the breach we go.
* * *
It was all Edwardo Fuentes could do not to bury his head in his heads. Whatever he thought being the President of the Terran Coalition would be, this wasn’t it. Grandiose ideas of bringing peace, reforming the economy, and reshaping the Coalition into something fairer had gone by the wayside. Instead, he faced a day-to-day struggle to keep various parts of his governing alliance—made up of parties from center-left to far-left—from destroying themselves. As he reviewed a threat from a politician who wanted more money for his district on a far-flung planet, Fuentes despaired.
The door to the Oval Office swung open, and in came his Vice President, Jessica Rhodes, along with a gaggle of staffers—and General Barton.
“The CDF’s done it now, Edwardo!” Rhodes thundered. “We should’ve arrested the entire officer corps when we had the chance!”
If only I hadn’t needed her to motivate the young via social media. Fuentes had grown to detest his VP, to the point he’d already decided she wouldn’t be on the ticket when he stood for reelection. “What now?”
Barton cleared his throat. “Sir, a group of officers from CDF Intelligence—the military branch, not CIS—and the fleet have stolen a stealth raider.”
“What?”
“Sinclair and that damned war criminal, Cohen! It’s a conspiracy to start a new war with the League!” Rhodes shrieked.
“Madam Vice President, that’s overstated. I believe Colonel Sinclair intends to run a covert recon operation on Unity Station. That’s what he asked us to do, and all indications are, when we refused, he took matters into his own hands. He got help from former members of the Lion of Judah’s crew, defense contractors at Churchill’s main shipyard, and General Cohen.”
“Oh, stop covering for them, Barton!” Rhodes cut in. “They’re all war criminals. They want to keep profiting off the suffering of our citizens and the Leagues.” She turned from him to Fuentes. “We need to send out the fleet now. Hunt them down and destroy the ship they stole to send a message to our citizens and the League that we won’t tolerate this.”
Even Barton seemed taken aback by her tone and words. He glanced at Fuentes but said nothing.
Fuentes recalled a conversation he had many years before with another politician who had mentored him as he rose through the ranks, as it were. Sometimes, a man has to know when to take a stand. He set his jaw. “There will be no ‘hunting down’ of Terran Coalition citizens,” he began quietly. “Colonel Sinclair, as misguided as his actions are, is a patriot.” He cast his gaze toward Rhodes. “I’m sick and tired of the shrill attacks splitting our society coming from this administration. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” Barton replied crisply.
Rhodes sat with her arms folded and a look on her face that, if it only took looks, would melt the hardest alloy. As Fuentes stared her down, she finally spoke. “Fine.”
“General Barton, what do you think their chances of success are?”
“I’m not sure, sir. One ship, operating alone… though that particular boat, the CSV Virginia, has the latest stealth technology. She’s been refitted over the last six months. A decent enough chance, I suppose.” Barton sighed. “I worry more about Cohen. Somehow he got a load of Hunter missiles onboard before they launched. He could do some real damage. Maybe enough to restart the war. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I took the measure of General Cohen,” Fuentes began. “I believe he’s a patriot too. Maybe he enjoys combat too much, but the man is a patriot. The truth is, it wouldn’t be so bad to know what the League is up to at Unity station. They’re not upholding their end of the treaty. If Sinclair gets proof, that plays to our advantage.”
“Assuming they come back to the Terran Coalition after this stunt, what do you want done with them, Mr. President?” Barton asked.
What indeed. Fuentes sat back in his leather chair for a moment. “Violating orders and acting outside the chain of command cannot be tolerated, can it, General Barton?”
“Of course not.”
“Then,” Fuentes shrugged as he spoke, “they’ll be arrested and charged with the appropriate crimes.”
A bright smile came to Rhodes's face. “Well, it looks like Cohen will get his appointment with Lambert’s Lament after all.”
“We’re done here,” Fuentes announced. After the rest had filed out, leaving him alone in the bastion of Terran Coalition power and the symbol of its democracy, he closed his eyes and pondered recent events. If I could go back two years, I would’ve never stood for election. That much, he was sure of.
8
CSV Virginia
Deep Space
June 25th, 2463
Running at full EMCON Alpha, the stealth raider CSV Virginia made like a hole in space as it cruised toward their objective. With most systems running on automatic, David found himself spending most of his time in the CO’s cabin, which was directly behind the control room. It doubled as a small office, but the entire thing was barely the size of his rack on the Lion of Judah. He had his tablet set up on a fold-out desk while he sat on a rather uncomfortable chair, which also folded out from the wall. There was little to do, given the nature of their mission—no paperwork to occupy his mind.
He’d brought along a series of rabbinical commentaries on the Torah that dated back a thousand years and spent his time studying them. It helped to clear his mind from thoughts of Angie and how a
ngry she’d been when she got his message that he was going off with Sinclair. I wonder if I’ll even be welcome if I make it home. As he pondered it, he realized she had a point—and he’d have to deal with it, sooner rather than later.
David hefted a bound reference edition of the Torah itself and laid it out on the table, while he set the tablet carrying the other works he was reading next to it. Leafing through the Book of Proverbs, he focused on its first chapter. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.” As he was about to read a commentary on the passage from the tenth century AD, the hatch chime buzzed. “Come in!”
Ruth’s face appeared in the doorway as it opened up. “Got a moment, sir?”
“Always, Captain.” David forced a smile and gestured to the other pull-out chair. “Sorry about the cramped quarters. I forgot how small these Growler class ships are.”
“Boats, sir.” She fumbled with the latch before pulling the seat down. “I got an earful about that when we had one docked in the Lion’s hangar bay.”
“What’s on your mind?”
She paused for a moment. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Ruth, I’m not even in uniform.” David shrugged. “I’m here only as a friend, and someone concerned with exposing the truth. There’s a reason I don’t have my duty khakis on.”
“I see.” Ruth smoothed down her black CDF sweater. “Seeing you in a frock coat is a bit of a shock. Since when did you go full Hasidic?”
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 6
