by Britt Ringel
Several minutes later, Captain Caden Twist appeared onscreen. The man had obviously not slept much during their time in tunnel space. Brewer gauged the weariness in his face but saw the eyes of a man with a firm resolve.
“Captain,” Davis began, “I have a special assignment for Pathfinder. You will immediately detach from the Expeditionary Fleet and make way for Anthe at best speed possible.”
Brewer watched the ship captain’s expression turn incredulous. To the man’s credit, he held his obvious protestations.
Davis continued. “Your mission, Captain, is to alert both Tarvos and Anthe Command of our situation and instruct them to marshal our forces to Narvi for a defensive action. That means Claymore and any other tunnel-capable armed ship will sail to Narvi and await our fleet’s appearance. When we dive in, I shall set the formation and defense and we will eliminate the Parasite threat at the Republic’s doorstep.” He rocked back in his chair slightly before adding, “I will send you detailed instructions within the hour but you will break formation immediately. Any questions, Captain?”
Twist frowned. After several breaths, he stated, “I dislike the idea of abandoning the fleet, Admiral, but I understand that Pathfinder is the ship best suited for this job.” He grimaced openly. “It’s still difficult to accept. I don’t want to be the ship that runs away.”
“You’re not running, Captain,” Davis clarified. “Pathfinder will be fighting right alongside us in the battle at Narvi.”
Twist nodded reluctantly. “I have no questions, Admiral.”
Davis gave the man a curt nod. “Good. Then off with—”
“Remain in the channel, Captain,” Brewer commanded over Davis. The admiral shot a stern look at Brewer who innocently explained, “I have a report to submit to Minister Fane. The message will be hand-delivered by one of my couriers in Tarvos.”
Davis waved impatiently. “Very well, proceed.”
Brewer pointed at the door. “After your exit, Admiral. The message is SCI and you have no need to hear it.” He cast a dark look at the man on the wall screen. “Captain Twist, you will obviously be taking several oaths of non-disclosure.”
Twist nodded while Davis scowled slightly. The admiral had little recourse but to sigh audibly as he rose to leave the room. On his way out, he restated Twist’s mission. “Get the word out, Captain. I want everything available ready to assist us.”
After Davis left, Brewer locked the door with the conference table controls.
“Have you spoken with your mother, Caden?”
The question obviously surprised the man, as was intended.
“Uh, not since our initial briefing on this initiative, sir.”
Brewer smiled at the answer. It held the proper mixture of respect and fear to which he was accustomed. The commander reminded him of many naval officers he had dealt with over the years. “Minister Twist is very proud of you,” Brewer said. “I’ve worked with her… well, since she was an undersecretary and she’s always spoken well of you.”
The commander blushed while admitting, “I hope it stays that way after news of this gets out.” He hung his head.
“It gets worse, Caden,” Brewer stated. “Your mission has changed.”
Twist’s eyebrows furrowed together. His voice dropped a full octave in dread. “What do you mean?”
Brewer began to shake his head slowly. “I will not allow Davis to lead the Parasites into Republic space. Too many sailors have died preventing exactly that to simply hand this alien species a map to our home.”
“But,” Twist floundered, “what will the fleet do?”
“We will fight,” Brewer explained impassively. “And we will probably die. But we will fight with the knowledge that our deaths will preserve the Republic.”
Twist accepted the truth well. After a moment, he said, “So Pathfinder stays with the fleet and fights beside her sisters.” He gave a determined nod.
“No, you will detach as ordered but the only message you will carry will be delivered to Assistant Secretary Jackson Neal at Tarvos. I will compose the message and send it to you before your dive. Neal will give you further instructions upon your delivery.”
Twist’s eyes widened at the implication. The panic shooting through the man’s face seemed far out of proportion to the stay of execution Brewer had granted him. “Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, Brevic officers take an oath and every one of us would be willing to die to protect the Republic we all love. You can't ask me to do this.” His voice began to choke. “I can’t do this again.”
Brewer felt a heat begin to build inside him. The navy had become quite recalcitrant over the last decade. Admonishment rose to his lips but stopped short at the miserable look on the commander’s face. Brewer stared, puzzled, by the naked anguish.
“I can’t be made to do this again,” Twist entreated. He looked up toward Brewer with glistening eyes. “Mr. Secretary, I was the one who brought word of our defeat at Second Kalyke.” He shrugged helplessly. “I was just a lieutenant but there was nobody higher ranking than me.” He raised a hand to his chest as words poured from his mouth. “It’s my name on the report that sealed the Republic’s defeat! You can’t order me to do it all over again. Please, let me die here than face that shame.”
“Son,” Brewer prefaced, “it will be okay. I’ll protect you. It’s going to be my name on that report, Caden.”
“But I’m the one delivering the news of our failure,” Twist insisted miserably. “I can’t condemn the Republic to defeat again, sir. Please.” Imploring, blue eyes clawed at Brewer’s will.
The secretary bowed his head but his resolve held fast. “You know as well as I do that serving the Republic can be a messy, ghastly business. Don’t think for a moment that you’re the only one who’s been forced into unimaginable positions.” Brewer snorted lightly. “The longer you serve and the further you go, the murkier things become, Caden. The things I’ve done… will have to do…” Brewer’s mouth closed to form a thin line. He paused in self-reflection before adamantly stating, “You have your orders and you will carry them out because that is what the Republic requires of you.” His eyes held Twist. Any former hint of compassion in the elder was dead. “And if these orders bring your personal disgrace, then you will accept that as well because that is what the Republic needs to survive.”
Chapter 51
Light from the tunnel disturbances reached the Expeditionary Fleet seventy-eight minutes after the first Parasite capital ships dove into Skoll. After several minutes of reorganization, the horde communicated with the cutters still tailing the Terran fleet at 12lm and resumed its pursuit. Docent and her consorts were still 47lm from the tunnel to Skathi, the last system before Narvi. Pathfinder, sailing at maximum speed since J-3, was much farther ahead, a scant 22ls from its dive to Skathi.
The fleet’s status had improved in t-space between J-3 and Skoll. Everything that could be repaired while underway had been repaired. Brewer sat on the flag bridge, eyeing Davis. Unlike the two opposing fleets, the distance between the two men had only grown. When Brewer approached the admiral to discuss the dangers in permitting the Parasites entry into Republic space, the man had been unfazed. “What is the difference where we defeat them?” Davis had asked irately. Brewer had attempted to explain the risks, seeking to segue to an alternate strategy but the admiral would have none of it. His efforts to cow Davis into submission also had little effect. The admiral was correct that he had control over the military strategy of the fleet and how it dealt with the maddeningly slow approach of the Parasites. Hints, subtle and overt, that conflicting with Brewer’s interests would have severe results for Davis’ career held little weight when the admiral knew that if his mission was a success, he would be written into history as the Republic’s savior. Brewer now realized the price of underestimating the man.
The obvious solution, the replacement of Admiral Davis, was complicated by the fact that Captain Dawson, the next senior officer, was an ardent supporter of the ad
miral. Worse yet, Dawson was simply not ready to lead the next steps the fleet must take. He was an excellent ship captain and certainly more than capable of commanding Docent but he lacked the flexibility and capability to coordinate on the level that would be required. On the final day in t-space, Brewer had accepted the cold truth that there was only one man who could do what must be done to protect the Republic.
“Pathfinder is away, admiral.” Commander Michaels brought Brewer back to the present.
“Very well,” Davis stated from his command chair. “ETA for the fleet?”
“Six hours, ten minutes until we can dive, sir.”
Brewer cleared his throat before speaking. “How close will the main body of the Parasites be from us when we dive to Skathi?”
The officer’s head ducked down to his panel. “Computing.” A moment later, he turned to Brewer. “Slightly over forty light-minutes, Mr. Secretary.”
“That’s not enough time for Pathfinder to travel all the way to Anthe and back to Narvi, Admiral,” Brewer stated. They had been through this numerous times in the last few days.
Davis sighed petulantly. “We can take the Parasites on a longer than necessary route in Skathi, Mr. Secretary. Their closure speed is only point-zero-one-C. We have all the time we need.” He shook his head before casting a sideways glance at the politician. “You know, your time might better serve the Republic in your office, designing a political answer that will get us the support we will need to venture back into Parasite space.”
This was Davis’ fourth indelicate request for Brewer to leave his bridge in less than forty-eight hours. Brewer smiled amiably. “I’m quite certain I already have that answer, Admiral.” He appraised the man impassively. Thirty years ago, I would have eviscerated you where you sat. Ten years ago, you would have already been relieved. He snorted lightly as he thought, Time truly does temper one’s actions.
* * *
The Terran fleet flickered into normal space once again. Two and a half light-hours away, Skathi’s M5V star offered little greeting into the inhospitable system. Neither did each of the red dwarf’s planets that offered no sanctuary for human life. The only discernably human-built feature in the system was a long-abandoned mining station orbiting Skathi-3. There were other, less obvious indications that Terrans had attempted to exploit the system in the form of civilian exploration and mining ships lost in the system’s two, dense asteroid fields.
The inner field, the “Alpha Field,” was a hyper-dense collection of asteroids with intensely high concentrations of promethium, a critical industrial element. Its abundance in the Alpha Field created sensor interference so impenetrable that all mining efforts had failed due to equipment malfunctions and the general inability to navigate the field in the blind. Skathi’s second asteroid belt, the “Beta Field,” was 15lm past the orbital path of Skathi-3. Miners had encountered short-term, restricted success collecting promethium in the second belt as the concentration levels, while still among the highest in the known galaxy, permitted limited though wildly dangerous extraction.
Brewer listened to the standard dive report while lounging in his quarters. He had relinquished much of his presence on the flag bridge. He still monitored the compartment’s activities using a live feed from hidden cameras installed during the ship’s construction. In the background, Brewer was listening to a classical nocturne by Dezous. Written three hundred years ago, the music never failed to relax him.
Pathfinder had presumably made her dive toward Narvi and her tunnel disturbance was due to reach Docent in eleven minutes. The Parasites would enter Skathi fifteen minutes after that.
Brewer heard Davis command: “Send the fleet’s navigation orders.” The sailing instructions would take his ships on a wide course around both of the dangerous asteroid fields in an elliptical path eventually leading to the Narvi tunnel point. With the admiral’s simple command, the trigger had been pulled. Davis’ orders no longer met the needs of the Republic.
Brewer activated his communications panel. “Admiral Davis,” he stated in a voice that harbored no defiance, “I need to speak with you privately about your request for additional resources for the fleet. Please come to my office, Christopher. This will only take a few minutes.”
Brewer heard the admiral sigh theatrically but he yielded. “As you wish, Mr. Secretary. This cannot take too much of my time. I’m a busy man.” The comm link terminated although Brewer heard Davis’ annoyed voice utter through the live feed, “If that politician paid attention during our fleet meetings, he wouldn’t have these questions.”
Minutes later, Brewer uncharacteristically met Davis at his door. “Come in, Admiral,” he invited while gesturing toward a small worktable. The fleet admiral crossed the threshold and moved toward a chair situated near Brewer’s desk. The portal closed behind him.
The first, silenced ten-millimeter shot entered the back of Davis’ head. Two additional slugs fired into the center of his back followed the killing blow less than a second later. Admiral Davis crumbled like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Brewer thumbed the safety and placed his pistol onto a sideboard.
He paused briefly, inspecting his marksmanship from the door. Confident the grisly task had been accomplished, he opened the portal, stepped through and implemented a security lockout. A determined Docent security team would eventually gain access if persistent enough but not before everyone on the ship faced a far greater peril.
Four minutes later, Brewer entered the late admiral’s quarters and deactivated its communications panel. He then exited and placed that compartment under its own lockout. As he made his way to the bridge, he justified the actions to himself. It’s less complicated this way. The last time I assumed command of a ship, the internal strife inside Derringer nearly ripped her apart. He was determined not to repeat the mistakes of his past.
The flag bridge doors retracted. He moved toward the center of the small compartment and sat in Admiral Davis’ chair. The mystified looks from the bridge officers gave Brewer a modicum of amusement. He casually glanced toward the sensor officer and stated, “Fleet-wide communications, please.”
An uncertain bridge officer complied slowly.
“Attention, Expeditionary Fleet. This is Sebastian Brewer, Secretary of Internal Security. Having reached Republic space and by the authority of the Emergency Powers Act, I have relieved Admiral Christopher Davis of fleet command.”
Gasps sounded through the flag bridge. He imagined they echoed throughout the fleet. “Davis’ determination to lead an aggressive, remorseless alien threat into the Republic could not stand. Despite my repeated efforts over the last week to alter his opinion, his misguided doggedness blinded him to the most obvious parameter of our mission; no Parasite ship will enter a Republic star system. Having failed that covenant, I was forced to relieve the admiral per special instructions from the Minister of Intelligence and the General Council.”
The last bit was a bold lie but that hardly mattered now. Brewer gave his ship captains a moment to digest the new reality. Finally, he continued, “Our orders are to eliminate the Parasite fleet before continuing to Narvi. Failing that, we will fight the enemy to a deadlock here while Pathfinder alerts the Republic to the situation.” He stated the truth coldly. “There is no help coming for us. The Parasite fleet will be arriving in the system shortly and any disturbance from the Narvi tunnel point would only show them the way to our families and home. That will not happen while we all draw breath. There will be a strategy session in ten minutes for the ship captains. Brewer out.”
* * *
Sailors who had been expecting to return to friendly space and receive support from additional ships were now facing a seemingly unwinnable battle. Brewer’s meeting had convened and he silently appraised the fear on the faces of the twelve ship captains on the wall screen. The situation was perilous. Hope had been dashed and despair would blossom in the absence of it.
“Where is Admiral Davis?” Minigun’s captain asked after Br
ewer opened the meeting.
“Under guard and communications lockdown per standard Brevic I.S. procedure,” Brewer replied. “The first three—”
“Who’s going to lead us?” Arquebus asked plaintively. Her captain looked to the portraits on his own wall screen. “Dawson is senior, right?”
“I am leading this fleet,” Brewer stated in an uncompromising tone. “I am now in command per the Emergency Powers Act.”
“You?” Arquebus was incredulous. “With all due respect, Mister Secretary, we need a military leader, not a politician.”
Brewer glared at the ship captain. “Captain Stone, I haven’t spent my entire life behind a desk.” He entered commands into his conference table’s console. New sailing orders flashed onto a side screen. The first leg of the new route was similar to Davis’ original orders. The fleet would sail well above the plane of the system to avoid the extreme navigation hazards of the two asteroid fields. However, once past Skathi’s star and on the far side of the system, the intended course brought the fleet back down to the elliptical plane, toward Skathi-3.
Giving no pause for further quarrel, Brewer explained, “The first three light-hours of our journey will proceed as planned. However, as we travel back out-system, the fleet will divide.” A new navigation waypoint labeled Alpha flashed on the side screen. “The frigates will break formation and enter orbit around Skathi-Three. Once there, Arquebus will send an engineering team to the abandoned mining outpost in orbit. They will bring the station’s two power cores online and set them to overload upon receipt of a coded message. The information in the databanks of that outpost must not be discovered by the Parasites.”
“Why not just destroy it with pulse laser fire?” Howitzer asked.
Brewer ignored the question and entered more commands into his console. A course line appeared on the system plot along with a second waypoint. “When that task is complete, the frigate squadron will proceed to waypoint Beta.”
