“Jack!” Betty shouted, sounding odd. “Can you hear me?” she shouted again. He focused his eyes on her hologram, sundress flapping in the wind, arms held tight around herself, and it clicked.
They were losing air. Her voice wasn’t carrying right in what was left.
He pulled in a deep breath, his lungs struggling against the thin air, and he saw spots. “I can hear you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She raised one arm and pointed to his left. “I can’t fix it, Jack!” she shouted. “I don’t have anything left!”
Jack glanced to the side and saw the spiderweb in the canopy where something had hit them. Outside, a ruined ship flew by, followed by another and another. No. All the ships were the same ship. They were spinning. He blinked, his mind in a fog of oxygen deprivation, and he tried to remember what he had to do.
“Jack!” Betty shouted and he turned to look at her. She pointed down towards his feet. “Get the kit!” she shouted.
Jack’s brain connected with her words and he reached down to rip the panel next to his feet open. He pulled a small clamshell kit out, raised it to his lap, and flipped it open. He pulled a clear mask off the top and planted it over his mouth. He heard a faint hiss and breathed deep from the small air reserve in the mask. He blinked, pulled in another deep, relieving breath, and pulled a patch out of the kit. It was a small patch of soft grey cloth, but when he threw it against the spiderweb, it felt vacuum on the other side and the cloth turned white hot. He felt a wave of heat as fibers in the cloth heated it up to the melting point, and the patch fused with the canopy, sealing the atmosphere in.
“Thanks,” Jack whispered through the mask, and gave Betty a weak smile. “It’s good to be back.”
She looked confused for a moment, but then shook her head. “I’m just glad you woke up when you did.”
Jack chewed his lip, looking at her for any hint that she knew about…the bonfire. Nothing. “Yeah. Me too,” he finally answered, mentally chewing on the bonfire and the party. And on the not-Kelly and the not-Betty. He wondered if he was right on who they were. But that was crazy talk. Just his mind in a fog.
He looked out at the multicolored hues of hyperspace and saw the Peloran ships spin by again, spewing atmosphere into it. All five of them drifted as if dead in space, their outer hulls completely burned away. The beautiful golden runes running from stem to stern were wiped away, the armor that protected them vaporized, only strips of it remaining in a few places, somehow still attached to surviving structural ribs that were themselves ripped and melted out of shape. He could only see three dozen heavy Peloran fighters screening the entire squadron.
Aneerin’s face appeared on the comm. screen, looking far older than he had in the room with all the wonderful food. “We have done what we can,” Aneerin said slowly, his voice sounding very tired. “Return to base now and we shall repair,” he ordered.
Jack swallowed as he watched all five ships rotate and begin to accelerate away from the location of the battle. A handful of tractor beams reached out to latch onto drifting fighters, including their own, and Jack felt them stop spinning and accelerate after the battleship. Jack shook his head in disbelief. “What does it take to kill them?” he whispered in awe.
“They’re warships,” Betty answered as if that explained it all.
Jack yawned, feeling the rush of adrenaline from the battle fading away.
“You should sleep,” Betty said in a soothing tone. “Hal will take care of us now.”
Jack yawned again and nodded. “OK,” he said, let out a long breath, and closed his eyes. His last waking thought was that hyperspace looked a lot like a rainbow.
A bonfire came into focus on a beach, with boys and girls dancing and two girls singing. Jack smiled in his dream and stepped into the party. He straightened his tie and searched for the blonde in a yellow sundress he knew he would find there. The redhead was there too, just as she promised, but she smiled and kept her distance. The party would fade again when he woke up, but that didn’t bother him. This was a dream. He would enjoy it while it lasted, he would wake up, and life would go on until the next time he dreamt.
Hello, my name is Jack. Some people say that if you can’t play golf, you can’t participate in proper politics or diplomacy. Those people have obviously never played poker. You can’t bluff in golf. You can’t stare down your opponent. Winning is all about your own skill, not about actually beating the other guy. Poker is social and political and diplomatic by its very nature. And those who have mastered them all are scary to play against.
Cowboy Diplomacy
Jack followed Charles through the hatch into a living room that his mind was finally beginning to consider large. Back home, it would have been impossibly tiny. In space, it was far larger than anything in the United States Navy. Even the Constellation had nothing like this. Bookshelves and paintings and holograms and plants and a dozen other knickknacks framed a closed hatch in each of the four bulkheads that made up the room. Comfortable looking chairs, and even a sofa that looked like it could double as a bed filled the room, making it look like a comfortable place to spend time in.
Aneerin waited for them, standing next to one of the chairs. He waved for them to come in and Betty and Dorothy stepped close behind them, allowing the hatch to close.
“I wish you all good health, now and forever,” Aneerin said in a formal tone.
“We wish you good health, now and forever,” Charles answered.
Aneerin waved towards the chairs and Jack and Charles followed the invitation, sitting down in a pair of chairs next to a bookshelf overflowing with what appeared to be honest-to-god paper books. Betty and Dorothy found seats against another wall, though their holograms lacked the weight to sink into the seats, making them look more like they hovered on them. It was a small trick Jack had learned for spotting cybers. One of many. He turned to Aneerin with a frown. He understood why Aneerin might want to talk to Charles as he was the commander of the squadron now, but he couldn’t figure out why Aneerin would want to talk to him.
“Ah yes, the dreaded ‘what am I doing here?’ question,” Aneerin said as he sat down and placed his hands behind his head, seeming fully at ease.
Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He’d heard Aneerin was good at reading body language. Jack really didn’t like being read.
“I apologize,” Aneerin said to him. “I understand your fighter was badly damaged out there. I’m told you almost died.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah. I’m better now. Better than a lot of the pilots,” he said, not really wanting to talk about the dream.
Aneerin nodded slowly. “Indeed. We did lose…many.” He turned to Charles, seemingly accepting Jack’s reluctance. “I apologize for the losses you took in fighting with us. Your Johanson in particular will be missed.”
“You knew him?” Charles asked, surprise in his tone.
Aneerin shook his head. “I never met him. But good squadron commanders are hard to find, and he will be missed.
“Yes, he will,” Charles said, his tone controlled but Jack caught an edge of sorrow in it.
Jack shook his head, a flash of anger burning through him. “His sacrifice wasn’t necessary.”
Aneerin, seeming to catch his mood, cocked his head to the side as the hatch opened and Hal walked in. “I agree. But could you tell me why you put it the way you do?” Aneerin asked, the edge of an order underneath the civil tone.
Jack’s eyes narrowed and he chewed on his lip, meeting Aneerin’s gaze. Aneerin looked genuinely curious, which either meant he didn’t know what Jack meant, or he was really good at acting. Jack grunted, shook his head, and began to explain. “Look, you know as well as I do that the Shang didn’t have you trapped. What we just did at Fort London proved that. You could have dove at any time at Fort Wichita. Instead we came up to save you because we didn’t know what you could do. Johanson died there, but you didn’t need the help we brought.”
Aneerin pulled in a deep breath an
d rubbed his chin for several seconds. “So you think his death is my fault?”
Jack pursed his lips and considered his answer. Truthful or diplomatic. He chose truth. “Yes.”
Jack noted with a corner of his mind that Hal reached the wall next to another bookshelf and leaned against it. Betty jumped out of her chair to join Hal at the wall, leaning against it as she moved in close to whisper to him. It was amazing really how cybers could act so human without seeming to think about it. Of course, if you asked them they were human. Jack hadn’t come to a conclusion yet, but he was certainly leaning towards the conclusion that they thought they were. And maybe even that they were, which did interesting things to many of the world’s major religions.
He returned his attention to Aneerin in time to see the man glancing towards the cybers as well. Aneerin smiled, shaking his head to bring them back on track.
“Good insight,” Aneerin said in an approving tone. “I will not limit my involvement in the manner of his and the other losses, but I would state for the record that your conclusion of fault is not entirely accurate. Jack, if we had hit and run as we just did with Fort London, we could have damaged the Shang for minimal damage to my squadron in return. It worked at Fort London because the fort was still operational. The British still took heavy casualties, but Fort London’s point defense kept most of them alive.
“Fort Wichita on the other hand was largely reduced in combat effectiveness and could do little to protect the ships around her. Had we performed hit and run assaults at Fort Wichita, the Shang would have accepted the losses we gave them while continuing to surround and destroy your American ships and then the fort. We allowed them to trap us, spreading their fire and attention across us, knowing it would reduce the casualties to your fleet, and then waited for your squadron to arrive. Did you really not question why your battle plan changed at the last minute?”
Jack frowned at Aneerin. “So are you expecting me to believe that you changed the standard operating procedure of an entire Battle Squadron, causing you to take significant damage including the crippling of a third of it, all because you knew our twelve fighters were ready to support you?”
Aneerin smiled. “Not exactly. I asked your Admiral Warcheski to task a destroyer squadron to support our flank.”
Jack blinked as he considered the words. Many things began to make sense. “Oh,” he said, his voice betraying his beginning doubt in Aneerin’s guilt.
“Exactly,” Aneerin returned. “A full destroyer squadron could have shattered the Shang flank with a single salvo. Your assault killed a single cruiser. They adapted quickly and you would have been overwhelmed had I not performed a counterattack. The time spent on that counterattack delayed my reinforcement of the main battle around Fort Wichita, causing American casualties to mount. Admiral Warcheski died because he thought he could drive them off by himself, without listening to me,” Aneerin finished. Disdain dripped from his tone.
Jack nodded. Aneerin’s argument made sense. Except one thing. “If Admiral Warcheski didn’t listen, why did he send us?”
Aneerin gave him a predatory smile. “He didn’t. Your Constellation creatively interpreted her orders and sent you on her own initiative. She was smart enough to see what he would not.”
Jack frowned. “Mom sent us?” He shared a glance with Charles who seemed just as surprised as he. “I didn’t know she could do that.”
Aneerin’s smile turned gentle. “That’s because you see her as a ship, not a person. She and the other cybers recognized my plan and agreed to send the only jump-capable assets they could task without violating orders. You,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“How far in advance did you have this battle planned?” Charles asked intently.
Aneerin smiled again. “Less far than you would think. Farther than you might guess.” Aneerin sighed. “The ability to think strategically and tactically, far beyond the capacity of all but your best minds, is second nature to all Peloran. I don’t suppose I planned any of it. I definitely did not know the Shang would attack when they did. But within seconds of their assault, using the ships I knew were in range, I had a plan ready to repulse them with minimal casualties.” Aneerin shrugged. “Admiral Warcheski chose to follow his own plan. He is now dead, as is your Johanson. I apologize for not being able to prevent the latter.”
Charles met Jack’s gaze for a second before turning back to Aneerin. “Well, you can’t control everything I suppose.” Jack caught the trick in the question and scanned Aneerin for any hint of a “well I should have” in there.
Instead, Aneerin pursed his lips. “Indeed,” was all he said. “You are most perceptive, Charles. Your family should be proud of you.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, considering the interplay. Either Aneerin truly didn’t think he should control them all, or he had caught the word trap and said he didn’t to fool them.
Aneerin turned to him with another smile. “You doubt my motivations, Jack.”
Jack met his gaze without hesitation and answered him honestly. “Yes.”
Aneerin nodded in approval. “Good. Always doubt those who would put themselves in positions of authority over you. They may not always have your best interests in their hearts.”
“And your interest is of course in our best interests?” Jack asked.
“Exactly,” Aneerin said, opening his arms wide as if he had nothing to hide. Jack didn’t believe that for a split second.
“Excuse me,” Hal interrupted the conversation from his position against the wall with Betty. “We have an incoming message. It appears the President of the United States wants to talk to us.”
“Really?” Aneerin asked, gazing back and forth between Jack and Charles. “What a coincidence.” His expression looked calculating and Jack had the undeniable feeling that nothing about this situation was coincidental. “I wanted to talk to her too. Please open communications. I assume she wants us in her office?”
“She does,” Hal answered with a smile and stepped away from the wall to take a more formal stance. Aneerin came to his feet and motioned for Charles and Jack to follow suit.
“Be good, boys. You are about to see your President,” Aneerin said, the ease he had affected before melting away into the smooth and cool demeanor that Jack had long learned to equate with the Peloran.
Jack came to his feet and swiveled his head to see Charles and Dorothy on their feet as well. Betty stood next to Hal, looking every bit the consummate and professional cyber.
“Achieving datalink…now,” Hal said and the walls of the living room rippled and changed.
One second they were standing on the Guardian Light. And then the holoemitters in the bulkheads came to life, faithfully recreating a much larger office on Earth for the benefit of everyone in the room.
Jack shifted his feet back to look at the massive rug on the floor that declared this to be the office of the President of the United States. He brought his head up to see the President’s desk and the President behind it. He gulped.
The President of the United States looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t a surprise really. Six months ago she had been the junior senator from Colorado, sick from a particularly nasty form of the flue that had broken through the Peloran Treatments, when the Shang dropped several hundred missiles on Washington DC during the State of the Union address. The designated survivor had been in Los Angeles when a large chunk of Yosemite Station hit the city dead center, leaving her the highest-ranking representative of the Federal Government. Jack and his dad had been fishing that day. The wholesale destruction of the majority of the career politicians in Washington had rammed some serious steel into her spine and Jack approved of that. A true War President sat behind her desk, most definitely unhappy at the moment, and he realized he really did not want to be on the receiving end of a War President’s unhappy glare.
Jack came to attention and brought his hand up to salute her. He surreptitiously scanned left and right to see Charles, Doroth
y, and Betty saluting her as well.
“I wish you good health, Aneerin,” she said through tight lips. “Now and forever.”
Aneerin gave a brief bow of the head. “And I wish you good health, Madam President, now and forever,” he returned the standard greeting.
She turned to Jack and Charles, wearing their very obvious United States Marine Corps service uniforms. “What are you doing here?”
“The Constellation is damaged, Ma’am,” Charles answered professionally. “The Admiral offered us a place to land, repair, and refuel. We were discussing the battle when you called.”
The President’s eyes narrowed further and her eyes flicked to Charles’ rank insignia. “Where is your commander?”
Charles licked his lips. “Colonel Johanson did not survive the battle, Ma’am. I am the senior surviving officer of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112, Ma’am. I accepted the Admiral’s offer, Ma’am.”
Jack suppressed a nod of approval. Charles was earning his spurs all right.
“I see,” the President said and turned her study to Jack. Jack carefully held his salute and did nothing else beyond staring straight ahead. “Very well,” she finally said and returned their salute. “At ease,” she ordered and turned back to Aneerin as Jack and the others lowered their hands to stand at ease. “Thank you for helping us at Fort Wichita,” she said, though she looked unhappy to say it. “My Joint Chiefs assured me your help would not be needed. I see they were wrong.”
Aneerin nodded towards her. “In a great many things, Madam President.”
The President pursed her lips and frowned, obviously unhappy with his statement. “My Joint Chiefs tell me that you allowed the Shang to escape,” she said slowly. “Why?”
Aneerin took in a deep breath and answered her in a simple and clear tenor. “Because I did not wish to send the vast majority of the fighting men and women at Fort Wichita to Annwyn.”
Jack blinked and looked at Betty in confusion, wondering what Annwyn was.
Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Page 11
