by Jake Elwood
Soldiers carried out policy. They didn't set it. Leaders set policy. The government, the admiralty.
But the government, that vast monolithic entity of bureaucrats and elected representatives, had changed since the war began. To a huge extent the will of the government was now the will of one man. Parliament members spoke out or remained silent according to their personal convictions, but there was an unspoken understanding that criticism of the Statsminister was unpatriotic, and could invite the wrath of the EDF.
Where there had been government, now there was Acton.
And the admiralty, once so powerful, was now subordinate to the EDF. The admirals had become administrators.
The realization hit him with a jolt. Where there used to be an admiralty, there's me.
He looked at the terminal in front of him. Hakka would take his call at any moment. What would he tell her?
I could tell her to carry on with her mission.
The idea was seductive and repellent at the same time. It would soothe his conscience. The colonists in Calypso and every place in between would have their salvation. He would know that he had done the right thing.
No. I can't disobey my orders. I will order Hakka to return the supplies she's gathered and stay in the Sol system. It's my duty.
Why is it my duty? If it's the wrong thing to do, how can it be my duty?
Because I have clear orders from the Statsminister himself. The chain of command …
The chain of command is broken. It doesn't work. I should consult the admiralty.
But the admiralty has been deposed. It's been replaced.
By me.
Bloch squirmed in his seat, trying to avoid the treacherous, treasonous thought that was rising in the back of his mind.
What if my duty is to behave as the admiralty would? To provide a check, a balance? To restrain the excesses of the Statsminister's office?
Don't sugar-coat it, Wolfgang. It's not the office. It's the Statsminister himself. The problem is not the government. The problem is one man.
Two men. I'm the other half of the problem. After all, I'm about to cancel a desperately-needed relief mission. And then I'm going to go on a speaking tour where I'll tell people lies about the aliens so they'll think they still need the EDF.
And I'll tell myself I'm doing my duty.
A low buzzer sounded and an electronic voice said, "Connecting your call to the SS Condor."
"Commodore," said a woman's voice. "This is Captain Hakka. What can I do for you?" She sounded guarded. He'd told her when he gave her his orders that the mission didn't yet have final approval. He'd assured her there was very little chance the mission would be scrapped, but she had to be bracing herself, just in case.
"There's a slight change of plans, Captain." He took a deep breath. "I'm coming with you. I'll come up in a shuttle and rendezvous with the Condor, and we'll join the rest of the fleet at the Gate."
"Very well, Sir." She sounded surprised, but not displeased. "I'll prepare you a cabin."
"Thank you, Captain." He broke the connection, then sat in the quiet booth, letting the implications of his actions sink in.
Finally he keyed in another call, to his wife in Germany. Hazen liked to know when he was going to be away from Earth for an extended period. She saw very little of him even when he was close to home, but he owed her the courtesy of a notification before heading someplace as distant as Calypso. She would be satisfied with a message, but he found himself wanting to hear her voice. Hazen was a rock in his life, an unvarying foundation he wanted to cling to now that everything else seemed to be shifting.
Once, this conversation would have been quite difficult. In the early years of their marriage she had railed against his frequent absences. There had been tears and shouting and cold silences. It had been a relief when she'd finally learned to accept the realities of his career.
Now, she would be brusquely polite. She'd thank him for letting her know, and she would get on with her day. He found himself perversely missing the old days, when their lives had seemed so deeply intertwined and every absence still felt like a betrayal. It would have been comforting to imagine her waiting in an agony of suspense for him to come back to her.
It took a while for the call to connect. The days when she would have run to take a call from him were long gone. At last, though, the console chimed and the electronic voice said, "The other party has requested a vid link. Will you accept?"
"Yes," he said, and composed his face in something like a smile.
A screen across from him flickered, then showed Hazen's familiar face. He'd hoped for a hint of warmth. Instead, he saw impatience. "Wolfgang. Is everything all right?"
"I'm fine," he said. "I might be going on a trip to the outer colonies, though."
Her eyebrows rose. "I see."
He surprised himself by blurting, "Do you remember that time I left my gun on my desk?" He hadn't realized he was thinking about it, but the memory suddenly filled his mind, every detail crisp. It was twenty years in the past, on a rare visit home. He'd been in the house for half an hour, sitting in the dining room and chatting through the kitchen door with Hazen, who was preparing a turkey. She made a comment about enjoying family time away from his work, then gave a pointed glance at his uniform.
He took the hint, going into his office where he took off his gun, laid it on the desk, and turned to the safe. Before he could open the safe, though, Hazen had called him from the kitchen. "Wolf! Help me, please."
Instead of taking five seconds or so to strap on his gun belt, he left it and hurried through to the kitchen. He found his wife struggling to lift the heavy turkey from the oven. He wrapped a dishtowel around his hand, helped her with the turkey, paused to give her a kiss, then returned to the office.
He found his six-year-old son standing beside the desk, holding his pistol, pointing it at his daughter.
Bloch took the gun from the boy's hand, ordered both children out of the office, and sat down, his whole body trembling. Oh, my God. I left my sidearm within reach of my children.
Even though nothing had happened, the incident had rattled him deeply. He was a professional military man with a conscientious nature. It was his identity. He was not the kind of fool who was careless with firearms.
And yet, he had done it.
"Wolf," said Hazen. She was using her stern parent's voice, the one she used when the children were being difficult. "I can't chat with you right now. I have friends over."
"You're busy," he said.
"It's not that." A troubled furrow appeared between her brows. "It's you."
He stared at her, baffled. "It's me?"
"Rosa's son was arrested last week. He was protesting in Nova Roma."
"But I didn't-"
"Mildred's daughter is in hiding. She posted some vids on the dark feeds. The EDF tried to arrest her."
"Fine," he said stiffly. "I won't embarrass you any further. Take care, Hazen."
He caught a flash of distress in her face as he cut the connection. He wanted to dwell on the image, to decide if he should feel vindicated or guilty, but he couldn't concentrate. For some reason the memory of that moment two decades earlier filled his mind. His weapon, in the hand of his son. A tragedy that almost happened, triggered by a moment of carelessness.
A moment of criminal negligence.
He drafted a quick message to Hakka. I will not be accompanying you. Rendezvous with the rest of the fleet and proceed at best speed to Naxos, and from there to Deirdre and the rest of the colonies.
The Parliament Building was a high-ceilinged, airy place, but he found it strangely stifling. He walked outside, but the wide lawns populated only by marines seemed just as oppressive. He used his implants to call a shuttle.
Only when he reached the bridge of the Hannibal did the strange trapped feeling fade. Colonel Laycraft was not pleased to see him, and made only a token effort to hide it. He'd have to remind her that the chain of command didn't end with her.
Captain Molson gave Bloch a sour glance, then ignored him. Molson's dark expression didn't change when he looked away, either. Well, the man had commanded the Hannibal for almost a decade. He could be forgiven a little bitterness at being made subordinate to the EDF.
"How many battle-ready ships are in orbit around Earth, or on the surface?" Bloch said.
"Eight, including us," said a lieutenant, and started to list them.
"Never mind that. Get me all seven captains."
Laycraft raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk to the captains?"
Bloch frowned, annoyed with himself for the lapse. "Get me the commanding officers."
She nodded and looked at her communications officer.
There was a delay of several minutes before all seven officers were connected to the channel. When the last major signed in, Bloch spoke.
"We are changing position. Form up behind the Hannibal and wait for further instructions."
"Where are we going?" said a shrill voice.
Bloch smiled to himself. Time to give everyone a refresher on military protocol. "Who asked that question?"
The silence stretched out. Finally a hesitant voice said, "It was me. Colonel Beaulieu."
"When I ask you a question, Colonel, I expect a prompt response. Is that clear?"
"Yes, General." She sounded flustered, as if she was startled to find herself facing criticism.
You'll get used to it by the time I'm done with you. "I see you've belatedly remembered how to address a superior officer, Colonel. Don't make me remind you again. You won't get another warning."
Silence.
"Colonel?" he said coldly.
"Yes, General." By the sound of it she was speaking through gritted teeth. "Sorry, General."
I'm not really getting through to her. Well, I'll save the rest of the lesson until I can speak to her in private. It was never a good idea to humiliate an officer too much in front of the lower ranks. He'd blister her ears for her later.
"Form up behind the Hannibal," he repeated. "Don't make me wait."
The fleet gathered with impressive speed. When all eight ships were together he turned to Laycraft and said, "Take us to the Gate to Naxos, Colonel."
She gaped at him. "We're going to Naxos?" When he glared she flushed and added, "Sir."
"No, Colonel. We're just going to the Gate. Now carry out your orders."
"Yes, Sir." She took a hesitant step toward the navigation console, as if she thought he meant for her to drive the ship herself. Then she smoothed her uniform blouse with her hands and said, "Helm. Gate Three."
The long-standing system of numbering Gates had broken down during the war, with Gates being destroyed and replaced, and a new Gate opened to the Hive home system. The helmsman knew what she wanted, though. Before long, the small fleet blockading the Gate appeared on Bloch's screen and began to grow.
When the two fleets hung motionless beside the Gate, Bloch addressed every ship in both fleets. "This is Commodore Bloch aboard the Hannibal. We will be discontinuing the blockade of the Gate and moving to L2. We won't use a wormhole, since we're in no hurry. It'll be a good chance for everyone to practice moving in formation."
Laycraft stared at him. "But what about the blockade, Sir?"
Bloch left the channel open as he answered. "The Naxos colony is not going to attack us through the Gate. If they do, we'll have plenty of time to respond from L2. If the Hive attacks us, it won't be through the Gate, so we serve no defensive purpose by staying here. Not that the Hive will attack us. The Hive has been destroyed. They are no longer a threat to humanity."
God, but it felt good to speak the truth.
Laycraft said, "But, Sir, what about ships trying to leave?"
"We will no longer prevent ships from leaving the Sol system." A knot in his guts seemed to let go when he said it. "Spacecom has no business preventing the citizens of the United Worlds from travelling as they see fit."
Colonel Laycraft looked shocked.
"We'll go to the Lagrange point and take up station there," he said. "We'll be close enough to respond if the Earth faces some outside threat. But, at a million-plus kilometers, we'll be far enough away that no one will be tempted to use the fleet inappropriately for dealing with non-military threats."
Molson glanced at him, the sour look finally gone from his face. The captain nodded, then looked away.
I don't need your approval, Bloch thought. But it warmed him just the same.
Acton would be furious. This day would bring consequences, serious ones. Nevertheless, Bloch felt strangely cheerful as he watched the Gate recede behind the fleet. He thought back to that terrible day when he'd left a loaded gun in reach of children, and smiled. Not this time. I made a mistake, but once was bloody well enough. I won't repeat it.
CHAPTER 31 - CARRUTHERS
Ship coming through!"
Carruthers, who'd been quietly reading a novel on a data pad, jerked his head up at the announcement. Cadet Kuzyk was at the tactical station, his eyes wide with alarm. "More ships now!"
"Transponders?" Carruthers said mildly. He'd already glanced at his own tactical screen, so he knew the answer. This was a training shift for Kuzyk, though, and he wanted the boy to go through all the steps.
"Spacecom ships," Kuzyk said. "Uh, there's the Condor and the Semenko …"
"Just give me the ship classes," Carruthers said, his eyes on his own tactical screen. The Indefatigable sat a hundred thousand kilometers from the Gate, between the Gate and Ariadne. If the arriving fleet had hostile intentions he'd have plenty of time to react before they could get close enough to do any harm. Still, if the sewage hit the rotating blades he didn't want a moment's delay.
"One corvette," said Kuzyk, his voice losing its excited pitch. "A supply ship and a Jumper. Oh, and another corvette just came through."
"Sound General Quarters," said Carruthers, and the low hum of an alarm started. "Start charging the wormhole generator. And signal the Spacecom fleet."
Officers filed onto the bridge, and Kuzyk gratefully gave his seat up to an arriving lieutenant. Rigoberto Ramona took a seat close to the communications station, ready to send untranslatable messages to his siblings in orbit around Ariadne and on the ground.
The Spacecom fleet didn't deign to reply to their signal. A glowing wormhole mouth appeared just in front of the Jumper and the little fleet vanished, one ship at a time. The Jumper went last, the wormhole hanging alone in space for several more seconds before collapsing and disappearing.
If they were coming for us they'd be here already. "Scan Ariadne," Carruthers said. "Signal the fleet. I want to know where they came out."
No ships had popped into existence close to the colony, though. Carruthers had his people start a careful scan of the system, in case the Spacecom fleet had jumped away for some reason, only to jump back in and catch them by surprise. His instincts, though, told him the Naxos system wasn't under attack. After five minutes of vigilance he was almost certain.
"Stand down, people," he said. "Everyone who's not on an active-duty shift can go."
Kuzyk, hovering near the aft bulkhead, said, "But where did they go, Sir?"
"My guess is they're on their way to Deirdre." Carruthers shook his head. "Depending on what they find, they'll likely keep going down the chain." He ran through the list in his mind. Aries. Tanos. Calypso, the most distant colony in the United Worlds, isolated since the first contact with the Hive. Was anyone left alive in those colonies?
And how long will it take us to find out the details? God, what I wouldn't give for access to the news.
While he was deeply grateful there was no shooting war between the Naxos colony and Spacecom, Carruthers was intensely frustrated by the cold war. A working Gate connected Naxos and Sol, but almost no traffic went through. He was frankly scared to send a ship through the Gate. There was no guarantee that ship and crew would ever be allowed to return.
It was nine days since the Theseus, Gideon, and
Tomahawk had left for deep space. A day after that, the Theseus had come through the Gate from Sol with a hold full of subdued colonists and the news that the Hive was all but destroyed. The war with the aliens was effectively over, but Hammett was in custody, along with every officer and sailor who'd deserted from Spacecom.
Since then, only one more ship had come through the Gate, and it hadn't been able to give them much news. In fact, the new arrivals had known surprisingly little. The degree of censorship in the press back on Earth had Carruthers utterly flabbergasted.
Kuzyk sat once again at the tactical station. His eyes went to his screen and he stiffened. "Captain! Another ship." He peered at the screen. "It's called the Aardvark. It's a civilian cargo ship."
"Message coming in," said the communications officer.
"Well, that's a nice change of pace. Let's hear it."
A man's voice, scratchy and excited, came from the bridge speakers. "I repeat, we surrender. This is Captain Roget of the Galactic Cargo Services Aardvark, surrendering unconditionally to the mutineer fleet."
"Give me a channel," Carruthers said. When the communications officer nodded he said, "Try not to panic, Captain Roget. No one's shooting at you."
"Is this the mutineer fleet?"
"This is Captain Carruthers of the Colonial Forces," Carruthers said, controlling a rising irritation. "Why don't you tell me what brings you to Naxos?"
"I'm defecting," Roget said. "The whole crew is. We want away from Earth. Don’t fire on us!"
"You're a hundred thousand kilometers away," Carruthers said wearily. "You're in no danger."
"Oh," said Roget, sounding flustered. "Right."
"What makes you think I'm going to fire on you, Roget?"
"Well," the man said defensively, "you destroyed the Scepter."
The Scepter, a tiny civilian courier ship, had come through six days earlier with a couple of pilots, a refugee journalist, and three ministers of the previous government, all of them outspoken critics of Acton. They'd been seeking sanctuary, and they'd had to dodge a Spacecom blockade to slip through the Gate.
