“We have them.”
23rd December 2068
“Jeff?”
Jeff Harlow looked up guiltily from his screen. There was a whole pile of things he really should be doing. But he was working on his book on company time – naughty, naughty. Not that Jen cared. She was just the messenger.
“Rich wants to see you in his office?”
“What about?”
“Not a clue,” she replied as she turned away. Jeff shook his head. How someone could work for a news network and be so determinedly uncurious was one of life’s little mysteries.
“Thanks Jen,” he said getting up, “as informative as ever.”
Richard was eating a sandwich when Jeff came in.
“Hi Jeff, what do you know about the Big Push?” he said without any preamble.
“That nine out of ten cats prefer it to other brands,” Jeff replied as he sat down.
“Well it’s about to get even pushier. This assault, offensive or whatever the military insist on calling it, is starting soon. The fleet is showing its usual fondness for embedded journalists but it looks like they’ll be forced to take a few of us along. Management really wants you to be our guy. You are a known face and, frankly, your reports have generally been favourable enough for the fleet to regard you as friendly.”
“Hey!” Jeff objected, “I’m not a military toady!”
“I know, I know. It’s just that you’ve been around enough to cover good news stuff. We can work with that,” Richard said soothingly. “There’s no guarantee you’ll be going any damn place, but we do need to know right now if you’re in.”
Jeff leaned back in his chair as he considered the offer. The last time he’d been an embedded journalist he’d found himself in action several times – and it had always scared the shit out of him. As soon as the network offered him a posting back on Earth he’d grabbed it with both hands. But then the siege had come and he realised he’d probably got out at the wrong time. There’d been a newbie for CNN, Rebecca something-or-other, who’d managed to get herself on board the Illustrious. Her reports had made her a household name. Okay, she’d lost half an arm to a flying missile fragment but the lucky bitch was made. Then that guy from Reuters, who’d somehow managed to get the first pictures of the Nameless bodies brought back and coined the name Worms for them. That lucky, lucky bastard! He’d been stuck in London for the siege, taken off air by the power failures and forgotten by the public as the grand ballet was danced above their heads. Okay, Mom wouldn’t be happy about him going up again but if he simply didn’t mention it over Christmas, problem solved.
“Where would I be?”
“Don’t know yet. The Fleet is being awkward. Their Governing Council will probably force them into it but for the moment they aren’t even prepared to say how many they’ll take. So, we need to be able to put someone forward without knowing where. Hell, they might just dump everyone on a transport somewhere and apologise afterwards.”
“No exclusivity?”
“I think some network – FOX or BBC I think... maybe Reuters – demanded they be given the exclusive on the coverage of the whole shebang.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow.
“What was the fleet’s response to that?”
“Let’s just say if we were to repeat it word for word in our next bulletin, the regulator would slap us very hard for indecency.”
“Hah! Okay Rich, I’m in.”
___________________________
3rd January 2069
Wingate turned to watch as the last of the ratings were hustled out of the Council Chamber and staff officers checked no other unauthorised personnel were present. The collection of operations was the most ambitious Battle Fleet had every seriously considered. K.I.S.S. – Keep It Simple Stupid – had always been the cornerstone of the fleet’s military planning. But this, this whole plan, was a series of precisely planned manoeuvres – a virtual house of cards in which one misstep could leave them open and vulnerable. But it was what they had. He’d allowed Lewis and Fengzi to take the driving seat in the planning, while he looked for a simpler way to achieve the same ends. If there was such a way it wasn’t too be found. Preparations were well under way, ships were being modified and they were sourcing nuclear weapons that the fleet didn’t normally have access to.
Secretary Callahan was talking quietly to both Admirals Lewis and Fengzi. His role within the fleet had somewhat diminished during wartime, as world leaders sought to deal directly with those in uniform, rather than go through a middleman. Callahan seemed to have taken this effective demotion calmly, which was probably inevitable given he was dealing with a military that didn’t answer to a single government.
So much of what needed to be done had to be started while plans were still being made. Unavoidably, some effort had been wasted as projects were started, then abandoned as plans changed. In peacetime that would have castigated as gross project mismanagement, but here and now it was a painful necessity and Callahan had been successful in heading off criticism. As the late arrivals made their way in, the holos of the Council members started to flicker into life and they all stood. Wingate waited patiently as the last of them came online. The heads of governments not currently on rotation on the Council would also be listening in, albeit without an avatar through which to interact.
“Admiral Wingate,” President Clifton said as she looked up and down the fleet’s side of the table. “Please everyone, sit. I hope everyone enjoyed the New Year I hope it marks an improvement in our circumstances. Now I believe we have a lot of ground to cover. Admiral, please begin.”
“Thank you, Madam President,” Wingate replied as he stood. “Council Members, you are all already aware of the broad details of the proposed operation, but I intend to start with a brief summary before moving onto the fine detail. This will be a series of interconnected operations with the primary operation aimed at seizing and holding the solar system we have designated The Spur, which by cutting off the Nameless forces in this arm of the galaxy, will result in either their destruction or retreat. The secondary operations will be aimed at distracting and diverting enemy resources from the Spur. There will be four sub-operations – Rage, Fury, Retribution and Vindictive.
“The first two, Rage and Fury, will be diversionary operations aimed at pulling Nameless units forward. Fury will be a fast convoy through to Landfall. We have become aware from our reconnaissance ships that a small number of combat units from both Douglas and Endeavour Base remain active. The blockade-runners will drop small arms to those groups, with instructions to mount attacks on ground-based Nameless facilities. Rage will be a drive towards Landfall by the Second Fleet under Admiral Fengzi. Their role is to draw Nameless units in and force them to consume resources from their forward supply dumps. In doing so, we will weaken the Nameless forces in theatre, before the start of the next pair of operations.
“These operations are codenamed Retribution and Vindictive. Retribution, under Commodore Tneba, will be the third and most important of the three diversionary operations. A small force of cruisers and a bombard will travel from our galactic arm, across the rift and into that of the Nameless. The purpose of this force will be to launch an orbital strike against the principal planet of the first enemy system on their side of the Rift. This system has been codenamed Kingdom. The purpose of this strike is to tie down their reserves in a defensive posture and so deprive them of assets to counter the final operation. Codenamed Vindictive, its aim is to cut the link between the Nameless worlds and our own by destroying the gate station that gives them access across the Rift. Then we hold the system, thereby starving their fleet of resources. The overall name for these operations will be Drumbeat.”
“Admiral Wingate,” Prime Minister Layland said, “before we go any further I must ask – would it not make more sense to reduce or abandon Fury and Rage and instead concentrate our efforts on the two most important operations?”
“Regrettably, it is not an option to do so, sir,�
� Wingate replied. “The fleet assaulting the Spur is the largest we can sustain at such a distance.”
“Even if we took the ships that are to be used to drop supplies on Landfall?” Layland persisted.
“Once the drop is complete, they will operate in support of the Second Fleet. Being smaller and faster transports they are better suited to supplying mobile operations.”
“Admiral, I am... I wonder whether a drop on Landfall is sensible. Whatever survivors of the colonies remain, they have suffered much already. Are we not risking drawing more suffering down on their heads?”
Ah, Wingate thought. “Sir, these groups have requested military supplies. As for making them targets, given the war aims of the Nameless... This will change little other than give them a means to fight back.”
Layland relented, although obviously still unhappy.
Wingate looked around before continuing.
“Moving on then to the fine detail...”
___________________________
“Thank you for seeing me, sir,” Crowe said as he came to attention.
“Make it brief, Commodore,” Lewis said glancing up from a report sheet.
“I understand the Mississippi has been reactivated, I am here to request information as to what is being done with her.”
Lewis looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing.
“I was never taken off the books, sir. I am officially still her captain and it is my right to request information on any work being carried out on my ship.”
Rumours regarding the Big Push had been doing the rounds since the De Gaulle task force had returned. As an officer Crowe wasn’t supposed to heed the grapevine, but you couldn’t legislate for human nature. Amidst all of the conflicting rumours, there was one detail that stood out like a beacon for Crowe.
After that first shattering encounter, Mississippi had been pushed into a lunar orbit to await the attention of the breaker’s yard. When war came, she’d been out of harm’s way, the formalities of official decommissioning forgotten. As soon as he found out she’d gone into dock, Crowe knew he had to find out why.
“She’s being modified, Commodore, to give me another option when we reach the Spur,” Lewis replied as he brought up a document on his pad and passed it over. “When the Home Fleet leaves Earth, the most recent information we have from the Spur will be weeks out of date. So fine detail planning is impossible. Instead, we have a number of broad outlines. Mississippi has a place in one of them.
Crowe worked to prevent surprise from showing on his face. A right to request information was far removed from a right to receive it. As he read down the pad though, he felt his heart sink.
“Lieutenant Commander Huso is slated to command should Mississippi go in,” Lewis informed him.
“I know her, sir. She’s a good officer,” Crowe replied slowly as he read, “but she hasn’t served in a River class in over ten years.”
“Given that the class is borderline obsolete, very few top-flight officers with the necessary seniority have recent experience,” Lewis replied.
“I do, sir,” Crowe said as he returned the pad.
“You also have a ship, an important one.”
“Yes, sir,” Crowe replied, “but if we have to use her like this, then we’ll only have one shot. I believe I stand a better chance of putting her in than any officer alive.”
“She’s been subject to extensive modifications – past experience may not be as useful as you imagine,” Lewis pointed out.
“I stand by my previous comment, sir.”
Lewis stared at Crowe thoughtfully.
“Sentimentality, Commodore?”
“In part sir, yes,” Crowe replied without hesitation. “But better this than the breaker’s yard.”
Lewis stared at Crowe for several seconds. Crowe had to force himself not to fidget under the older man’s gaze. He could feel the judgement in those cold blue eyes.
“Very well, Commodore. If it comes to it, you will command.
Lewis tapped a message into his computer pad.
“I’ve now authorised you to be briefed on the modifications. You’re dismissed.”
Lewis’s chief of staff Captain Sheehan entered just as Crowe left. He eyed the departing commodore curiously before speaking.
“I didn’t think you would tell him, sir.”
“Sometimes, Captain, it’s better to let a man’s demons drive him,” Lewis replied as he returned to his reading. “But if he’d lied to me or himself, I’d have taken both ships off him.”
Two days later
“Well we’ve had to make a lot of modifications sir, on top of the repairs she required,” said the staff officer as they pulled themselves through the airlock. “That has meant a lot of work on a very tight schedule.”
“We originally thought we’d be using the Nile,” she continued, “but on closer examination she proved to have major fractures in two of her longitudinal beams and a long period under full thrust would likely break her back. So it had to be the Mississippi. Now there is buckling to the number three longitudinal beam, which is likely to cause vibration in Number Three Engine, so I recommend you only use that engine for full thrust situations. As you saw on the approach, B and D turrets have been pulled out and replaced with flak guns. Obviously we had to plate over the gap and more or less put in a barbette within a barbette. We’ve filled in the gap between the two, and several other cavities, with composite foam. That also improves the stiffening. We are also expanding the ready to use magazines for the point defence guns...”
The young woman’s voice faded into the background as Crowe looked around the Mississippi personnel reception area. The last time he’d been here had been three years previously, after Mississippi limped home from that first fateful encounter. So much was so familiar, which made the differences so painfully obvious. New hatches had been crudely cut to allow access in or out for equipment. The paintwork was battered and blistered and there were none of the human touches that made a ship a living thing.
“This way please, sir.”
Crowe followed without comment. Was it a mistake to be here? He’d asked for this.
“The modifications have added quite a lot of mass, so to compensate we’ve pulled out most of the crew facilities. Even though the transit crew will comprise of only ten individuals, they will still be roughing it,” she continued.
As they detoured into the centrifuge there wasn’t much left to see.
“You weren’t kidding about lack of facilities,” Crowe muttered, as he looked around.
If the main hull still contained familiar elements, the centrifuge was like a corpse. Previously, partition walls had divided it, but now everything except for the airtight bulkheads had been cut out. That meant that for the first time, he could view far enough to port and starboard to see the floor curve up and out of sight.
“If we had the time and facilities we’d have cut and shut the hull to get rid of it completely,” the staff officer replied with a shrug. “We’ve put in spaces for beams to lock the centrifuge in place for the final run. That will help to structurally reinforce the hull. As it was, there was debate on whether to retain the centrifuge bridge, but then we’d have to leave a counterweight on the other side.”
“The radar tower bridge remains?” Crowe asked.
“Sort of, sir. As you say the original layout had the bridge in the radar tower – an antiquated layout that made it too vulnerable. Fortunately there was nothing essential below it, so we’ve dropped the whole compartment two decks down into the main hull. That involved a lot of rewiring of command runs and we’ve added extra splinter protection – for what that’s worth.”
“Not much,” Crowe murmured. “Anything left to do?”
“A few last bits sir. We still have to put in the flak-packs. They’re a new feature. Basically each one is a box of recoilless rifles loaded with canister shot. You’ll only have a dozen of them, enough for a pretty robust terminal defence against the first few
missiles to get through, but no more. Plus, we have to put in your escape route up and down to the shuttles in the radar towers. That’s probably important.”
“Yeah, not having them might make volunteers a bit leery,” Crowe agreed as they reached the bridge.
Back in his exploration days, Crowe hadn’t used this space much and instead preferred to run Mississippi from the centrifuge bridge. Still there were a lot of good memories here. Looking up, he stared into the space the bridge had formerly occupied and could see the back of the shuttle bay.
“Since there will be so few crew on board, we’ve had to move some things around to allow the ship to be worked with the minimum of personnel.”
“I see,” Crowe replied as he steadied himself against the command chair and looked around. “Ah, my poor old girl, what have the bastards done to you?”
“Pardon, sir?”
“Nothing, nothing – just having a brief trip down memory lane,” he replied with a brief smile.
They hurt you, he thought to himself as he patted the back of the seat, hurt you when all we wanted to do was explore. Got you reduced to this... hollowed out husk. But don’t you worry girl. They hurt you and now, we’ll go and hurt them back!
___________________________
“To Operation Drumbeat,” Wingate said as he raised his glass.
“And God bless all who fight in it,” Fengzi replied as they clinked glasses.
The Council had formally signed off on the operation. For better or worse, it was now totally in the hands of the fleet. With a transit time of nearly two months, the Home Fleet would leave within days. If they had missed anything, then there was little time left in which to right it.
Wingate eyed Lewis over the top of his glass. There was no room for sentimentality, not when the stakes were so high. He’d given serious thought to removing Lewis from command. He could see the man was tired but then they all were. Operation Vindictive would be where the heaviest command load would fall. Destruction of the Spur gate station would be hard enough, yet that would be merely the start. After that, the battle of attrition would begin. In such a battle, as the fleet bled it would need a commander who could hold their nerve, an officer willing and able to look the Nameless in the eye and bleed as long as it took. For that task, the fleet had only one choice.
The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) Page 30
