“Put it on my screen, Petty Officer,” she said, turning her attention to the small communications screen embedded in the bulkhead before her.
She sat back and waited. As she did, she smiled slightly to hear Connery telling the others onboard to hold it down. The lance corporal was there under orders from Talbot to make sure nothing happened to her. So far, Connery was taking the assignment very seriously.
“Colonel Shaw,” Admiral Tremayne began as her image appeared in the top right corner of her screen. Ash felt her eyes go wide in surprise to see not only Tremayne’s image but those of her mother, General Okafor and the President as well.
“Aye, Ma’am.” She sat a little straighter in her flight couch. As she did, she hand-signaled Connery to keep everyone away until she finished the comm.
“Colonel, Admiral Tremayne informed me of your request for permission to ask Major Laboe to join the Devil Dogs as your XO. I have approved your request, with her blessing. Consider him a member of your battalion.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“Colonel, I will leave the briefing to the others but know this. You have one priority if this encounter goes the way we anticipate. Protect the system. Everything else is secondary. However, if you and Admiral Tremayne can manage to get us confirmation about the extent of the Midlothians’ involvement in what is going on, you would have my administration’s undying gratitude.”
“Understood, Mr. President.”
“Then good hunting, Colonel.” With that, his image disappeared from the screen.
“Ash, I’ve issued orders for Master Gunnery Sergeant Talbot to bring the rest of Alpha Company forward,” Elizabeth took up. “Further analysis of the readings from Second Fleet confirm this is the same taskforce that attacked the Cassius System. Once you are onboard the Nagato, bring your LACs to launch readiness. I want them clearing their bays as soon as contact with the enemy is made. Do not wait until their weapons go hot.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Launch readiness confirmed.”
“One last thing before I turn this over to General Okafor and Admiral Tremayne. You are not to take unnecessary risks, Ash. You are battalion CO, not a fire team commander any longer.”
“I will do what needs to be done, Ma’am. I’m a Devil Dog.”
“And a stubborn one at that. Shaw out.”
Ashlyn watched as her mother’s image disappeared from the screen. She knew that was the closest Elizabeth would come to letting her mother’s instincts show on an official comm. Hopefully, they were anticipating the worst and would find all their preparations unnecessary.
“Ash, I have issued orders for the other battalions of FirstDiv to be prepared to reinforce your Devil Dogs. They are shuttling to various ships with First Fleet as we speak. Unless and until they arrive, you are now officially in command of not only your battalion but of all Marines assigned to Second Fleet. Rely on Major Laboe in deciding how best to use them.”
“Understood, General. If necessary, they will back us up on boarding parties. I would prefer to leave them onboard their current ships if at all possible to assist the Navy crews and to repel any potential boarders.”
“Agreed.” Okafor looked off-screen for a moment before turning her attention back. “Ash, Miranda, move quickly. The sirens just went off groundside. Someone screwed up and I assure you I plan to find out who. But that means the enemy will know we’re onto them sooner, rather than later. Okafor out.”
“Ash, I’ve issued orders for Captain Thrasher to move in on the enemy location as soon as your people are on board. Once you move, I will bring the rest of the Fleet to full battle readiness and we will begin moving in your direction. I’ll leave screening elements behind in case they try to flank us. Until we get reinforcements from further in-system, we are on our own.”
“Admiral, you can rely on the Devil Dogs.” She motioned for Connery to step in. “With your permission, Admiral, I will go ahead and order the LAC crews to go to launch readiness. I want them in the air before the ships being closing with the enemy.”
“Agreed. See to it. Tremayne out.”
As the screen went blank, Ashlyn turned to Connery. “All right, Lance Corporal, we have a lot to do in the next few minutes. Transmit my order to the LAC crews. Inform their CO that I want a full update on their status upon arrival. Then contact the comms officer onboard the Nagato. I want the platoon tied into the battle net before we dock.”
“Aye, Colonel.”
“Petty Officer, how long until we dock?”
“Two minutes.”
“Make it one.” She stood and turned to face the platoon members on the shuttle. As she did, she frowned, wishing yet again they had taken a battle shuttle capable of carrying the entire platoon. Instead, another shuttle followed with the rest of her people.
“Listen up!” She waited until the Marines had focused on her. “Our orders have changed. FleetCom has confirmed that the readings the defense platforms pulled from the ships match those that invaded the Cassius System. Captain Thrasher has been ordered to close in as soon as we are onboard. So hit the decks running. As soon as I have reported in to Captain Thrasher, I’ll have a better idea of what our first target will be. Secure for docking.”
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am!”
* * *
Captain Bernard Hughes, Midlothian Space Navy, slowly, painfully crossed to the hatch leading out of his quarters. He almost sobbed in relief as he programmed the locks. It wouldn’t keep anyone out for long, especially if they were determined to get in. But it would give him enough time to prepare. He might not live long if they rushed the room but he would, by God, take as many of them with him as he could.
Damn Dorescu and damn Alexander Watchman for putting him at that madman’s mercy. How had they not realized the Callusians would do as they wanted at the first opportunity? God, he had been such a fool to agree to this assignment. A damned fool who would pay with his life and there was little he could do about it.
He carefully sat at the small desk across from the hatch. His breath hissed out as his ribs screamed in pain. Dorescu’s beating had been bad enough. By the time the Callusian security team finished with him, he knew several ribs had been broken. He was lucky not to be more badly injured. That was little consolation when he knew the pain would slow him, making it even less likely he could survive the next encounter with the Callusian commander or one of his crew.
Yet they had underestimated him, just as Watchman had. At least he hoped they had. He cast a look around his quarters. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed during his absence. Thankfully, his hosts appeared to have decided several weeks ago that he no longer represented a threat. It had been that long since they had searched his rooms. That might just work in his favor now.
Relaxing slightly, he slid one hand into his pocket where a mini-pulsar rested. Using his other hand, he levered back to his feet. First things first. He needed to do something about the pain. If this change in missions went as badly as he anticipated, he could not be slowed by his injuries. His life and the honor of his homeworld depended on it.
Ten minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a clean uniform, Hughes returned to the outer room. Pain no longer threatened to force him into unconsciousness. Now it was a dull throb, something to be endured. Not only did that let him move easier but the pain no longer clouded his mind. He could think and plan and he did not intend to waste a moment.
For more than two months he’d known Dorescu planned to kill him before they returned to the Cassius System. He had suspected it for much longer but he had gotten his confirmation then. Professional paranoia once again served its purpose. He had planted listening devices in the briefing rooms and ready room, on the bridge and even in Dorescu’s quarters. Much to his surprise, the Callusians had never found any of his bugs. As far as he knew, they had never so much as done a security sweep for them. That careless, so indicative of the Callusian attitude that no one could best them, would be their undoing. If he was lucky, h
e would have a hand in it.
His plans were simple. He would make sure Watchman knew what was happening. The Callusians had yet to realize he had been in contact with the Intelligence Czar without going through their communications officer. Nor had they realized he had tapped into their databanks and had been systematically downloading everything he could, not only about their activities but future plans, communications with other ships and Callusian command officers. If those messages reached Watchman, he would know the Callusians had not only murdered the other Midlothian advisors but that they also planned on turning against Midlothian as soon as they defeated Fuercon and its other allies.
But they had underestimated their intended victim. Hughes knew when he accepted the mission that his life very well could be forfeit. He just hadn’t expected it to be in this fashion. So, he had his own failsafe measures in place. It wouldn’t take much to activate them. A simple command code – or his death – would make sure no one ever learned the role his own people were playing in the new war wasn’t discovered by the enemy.
Resting his head against the back of the sofa, Hughes closed his eyes and let his mind go back over the latest meeting with Dorescu. The Callusian had made it abundantly clear he had no use for his Midlothian advisor. Nor did he have any intention of returning to the battle plan drawn up by the Midlothians. His goal was to probe Fuerconese space, testing their defenses and dealing as much damage as he could before withdrawing. This might not be the inevitable invasion of Fuercon but it was the first volley.
It didn’t matter that such action would put the Fuerconese on guard, all but insuring another invasion would not succeed, at least not without high casualties on both sides. In some warped way, it was a matter of honor with Dorescu. But that honor would probably get them all killed.
Damn them all!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“STATUS?” CAPTAIN RAFE THRASHER SAID as he strode onto the bridge.
A tall, almost painfully thin man with graying hair and eyes to match stood next to the command chair. At the sound of the Captain’s voice, he braced to attention and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. From where she stood just behind Thrasher, Ash fought the urge to smile. On their way to the bridge from the staging area, Thrasher had given her a quick rundown on his senior officers. Like her, just before they shipped out he had found himself without an XO. Lt. Commander Sarah Washington had been transferred to Third Fleet where she would take command of a frigate. Because Second Fleet had shipped out so quickly, that left Thrasher to promote from within. Lt. Commander Aaron Styles had proven to be more than competent as Nagato’s weapons officer, Thrasher had concerns about him as XO. From what she had seen so far, Ashlyn felt those concerns valid.
“No change in target’s position. CIC reports no change in weapons status.”
“Very good.” Thrasher took a moment to study the tactical display. “Colonel Shaw, may I present my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Aaron Styles. Lieutenant Commander, Colonel Ashlyn Shaw of the Devil Dogs.”
“Lieutenant Commander.” Ashlyn shook his hand and glanced around the bridge. each station was manned and most had a second in place to take over if necessary. She nodded in approval before turning her attention back to Thrasher and Styles. “If I may, Captain, how long until we are within weapon range of the target?”
And how long did she have to get her people – and the Marines on the three ships comprising the attack group – ready?
“Six hours at present speed, Colonel,” Styles replied.
“Half that, Colonel,” Thrasher corrected. “Now that you and your people are onboard, we are going to increase speed. Will that give you enough time to get your Marines ready?”
“It will.” Another glance at the tactical display. “Captain, the Devil Dogs are at your service.”
“I know better than to try to tell a Marine what to do, Ma’am.” He grinned and she smiled back at him. from the soft chuckles from several the bridge crew, she guessed they were well used to their captain’s sense of humor.
“Then, with your permission, I’ll return to the staging area.”
“Or course, Colonel. If you or your platoon need anything, let Lieutenant Commander Styles know.”
“I will.” She stopped at the lift and turned back to the bridge. “Pre-op brief?”
“Assuming no change in status, two hours,” Thrasher said.
Ashlyn nodded and, with Connery on her heels, entered the lift.
“One moment, Colonel. What sort of quartering will you require?” Thrasher asked before the lift doors could shut.
“I’ll bunk with my Marines, Captain. Some of us will be bunking hot on the attack shuttles. Other will bunk in the staging area, ready to move into any area of the ship where we might be needed.”
“I thought you might say that.” He grinned again and she saw something in his expression that had her wondering what he had up his sleeve. “I’ve arranged an office for you off the staging area. There’s a head with a shower as well as a cot. Admiral Tremayne instructed me to make sure you get at least an hour’s downtime before we go to red alert.”
“I would argue, but we both know the Admiral would have our heads if we disobeyed.” Not that she appreciated Tremayne’s heavy-handed – or maybe it was more underhanded – approach. “You can assure the Admiral I will do as she ordered.”
“Thank you.” When he looked at her this time, she knew he meant it. She also understood. Tremayne had put him between a rock and a hard place with that order. As fleet commander, Tremayne outranked them both. “If you change your mind about quarters, let me know. I’ll have something prepared.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
With that, she programed the lift for the staging area. She had two hours, one really, to prepare for whatever they might find when they finally reached the other ships. Her money was on battle. If their data was correct, this was more than likely the first real salvo in the new war.
“Tenn-Shun!”
Ashlyn’s boot heel had not hit the decksole as she stepped off the lift when the order rang out. Instantly, the members of Second Platoon stopped what they were doing and braced to attention. So, too, did every other Marine in the staging area – and there were more Marines there than should have been. Not that it surprised her. Whenever Devil Dogs arrived at a new posting, other Marines came to check them out. Some wanted to see for themselves if the Devil Dogs were as big and bad as their reputation. Others were reconnecting with former squadmates. Then there were those who came to check out the Devil Dogs’ equipment, always the best in the Corps.
“Lieutenant Lashay, report,” she said as she crossed to where the young man stood, the platoon sergeant at his side.
“No problems so far, Colonel. We need another few minutes to finish unpacking the gear. Lieutenant Fielder just reported in to confirm that LAC crews are standing by.”
“Any problems?”
“Negative, Ma’am.”
She nodded. She hadn’t expected any. The transit, while made without much forewarning, had been an easy one. Much of their equipment had been left on the Phoenix because they were looking at only potential boarding and defense action. That meant they did not need the same sort of armament and weaponry they would for a ground assault.
“Very good, LT.” And exactly what she expected. “Sergeant, get them back to work. Walk with me, Lieutenant.”
She strolled across the landing bay they were using as the staging area, Lashay at her side and Connery one step behind. As they walked, she took in everything going on. The Devil Dogs had immediately gone back to work, checking their weapons and battle armor. Good natured banter filled the air as they worked. The occasional question from some of the newer members of the platoon was quickly answered by the veterans. Non-coms moved among the enlisted, making sure everything was up to the standard Ashlyn had set.
Good.
What wasn’t so good was the number of Marines not assigned to the platoon who seemed to b
e milling about the area. Under other circumstances, she would not give them a second thought. This was different. The Nagato and its sister ships were heading toward ships she knew were hostile. Those Marines should be either on duty or making sure their own gear was ready for what might happen when they made contact with the unidentified ships.
“LT, our orders are simple. We’ll be putting the LACs in the air before contact Captain Thrasher contacts the targets. I want your people split into two groups. One will assist with damage control and repel any boarders. The Nagato has a full Marine complement, so we will let them handle backing up Naval personnel.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“The other group of Devil Dogs are to hot bunk on the attack shuttles. Full battle rattle for everyone in the platoon. That includes you, LT.” She made a point of looking him up and down, raising an eyebrow at his lack of secondary weaponry.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He colored slightly.
Taking pity on him, but not too much, she reached out and gripped his arm. “Lashay, you’re a good officer but you need to set the example for your platoon. That means you need to gear up and then make sure each of your people have done the same thing.”
He nodded and she didn’t miss the way he looked at the way she had geared up. “If I may, Colonel, how many weapons are you carrying?”
“More than I hope I ever need,” she said and went on to list everything she had on her, both officially sanctioned and not. When she added the weapons included with the rest of her gear, he shook her head. “Ma’am, I will never again accuse Sergeant McQueen of exaggerating.”
Ashlyn grinned. McQueen and Talbot played poker together and she had no doubt the Master Gunnery Sergeant had regaled McQueen with tales of his CO. Some of those tales might even be true.
“Lashay, I learned long ago things happen we can’t foresee. That’s especially true in battle. So having too many weapons, as long as they don’t interfere with the completion of your mission, is never a bad thing.”
Honor from Ashes (Honor and Duty Book 3) Page 18
