Starcruiser Polaris: Terrible Swift Sword

by Richard Tongue

   Turning to his deputy, Curtis replied, “If we're not willing to show an element of good faith, Lieutenant, then these negotiations are doomed to fail from the outset.” Gesturing at the screen, at the still-approaching cruiser squadron, he added, “If we can get those ships and their fighters into the war, we've got an excellent chance of finishing the Federation for good. I'm willing to put my life on the line for that.”

   “Let me go instead, sir, as your representative,” Hudson said.

   “No. It has to be me.” He cracked a smile, and replied, “I'm replaceable, Lieutenant. You can command Polaris just as well as I can, and my son is more than capable of commanding the fleet.”

   “Commander,” McKinnon replied. “I've spoken to my superiors on Khiva Station, and they're willing to meet with you on those terms. You can travel across on one of your shuttles, and we will maintain a distance of ten thousand miles between our ships and yours, as you stipulated. I don't need to tell you that any hostile move on the part of you or your ship will result in your immediate destruction.”

   “And the other stipulation I made?” Curtis asked.

   “You have my personal guarantee that both you and your aide will be permitted to leave Khiva Station and return to your ship unmolested, as long as your crew maintains a non-hostile posture. Defensive systems are acceptable, offensive systems are not.” She paused, then asked, “What is the status of our three pilots?”

   Looking at Voronova, he replied, “I have to report that Squadron Leader Kani is currently missing in action, and that Flight Lieutenant Nguyen fell in battle. Her attack was instrumental in the destruction of a Federation Starcruiser and our victory at the Battle of Coronado, and I would like to recommend her for a posthumous decoration. As for Flight Lieutenant Voronova, when last I saw her she was safe and well.”

   “Thank you for that, Commander. I will see that Lieutenant Nguyen's next of kin are informed of her loss. I presume you will return her personal effects?”

   “They'll be on the shuttle with me.”

   “Very well. We'll be waiting for you, Commander. McKinnon out.”

   Rojek turned to Curtis, and asked, “Are you sure about this, Teddy?”

   “No, but it's what has to be done.” Looking up at Saxon, he asked, “Ready for a trip?”

   “No, but I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I.” Unclipping her holster, she let her weapon drop to the deck, then walked over to the elevator, while Curtis removed his pistol and laid it on his chair.

   “Hudson, you're in command until I get back. Should something go wrong, then you are to leave the system at once, regardless of the status of myself and Major Saxon. No rescue attempts, no desperate battles. Keep the rendezvous with the rest of the fleet at all costs. Understood?”

   “Aye, sir,” she replied. “Good luck, Commander.”

   “Thank you. I think I'm going to need it.”

   “For once we agree,” Saxon replied, tapping the control for the hangar deck, Curtis only just stepping inside before the doors slammed shut. She looked across at him, and said, “This is insanity. You do realize that, I hope.”

   With a shrug, he replied, “That's got us this far.”

   “Even so.” The elevator skimmed through the decks, finally depositing them on the hangar deck, the scattered pilots watching as the two of them walked to the waiting shuttle. Curtis paused for a moment, looking at the assembled fighters, four full squadrons ready for battle, more than the ship had ever been designed to hold. A force that he'd never dreamed he'd command, ready to attack on his order. Saxon frowned, waiting at the hatch, and he followed her into the shuttle, moving into the cockpit and dropping down in front of the flight controls.

   “Requesting departure clearance,” he said, throwing a switch.

   Hudson's voice replied, “Granted, Shuttle One. Safe journey.”

   Shaking her head, Saxon replied, “I have got to try and cure that woman of her optimism at some point. I think she's beginning to infect the rest of the crew.” Pulling out her datapad, she said, “If our intelligence is correct, it'll be Admiral Crawford we're meeting. You couldn't have picked a more dogmatic, inflexible dinosaur to negotiate with. McKinnon might be more tractable, but...”

   “I've read the files,” he said. “We can deal with them. I'm sure of it. To an extent, we're giving them exactly what they want.” Turning to her as the shuttle dropped through the decks, he added, “Everything ready at your end?”

   “Naturally,” she replied. “In a cruel and hostile galaxy, my sense of enlightened self-interest remains the one thing you can truly count upon.”

   “Attention,” the overhead speaker barked as the shuttle dropped clear of Polaris. “This is Khiva Traffic Control. Switch over to automatic guidance. We'll bring you in.”

   “Roger, Traffic Control. We're complying now,” Curtis replied.

   “Understood. Out.”

   “Not even a please or thank you,” Saxon muttered, as Curtis threw the controls.

   “At least we get a nice relaxing ride,” he replied, gesturing at the gas giant ahead. The shuttle dived for the planet, furiously decelerating to bring them out of orbit, locking them on a glide path into the atmosphere. He looked around at the ships, old relics from the last war that had been kept in pristine condition, then glanced across at the sensor display, a trio of targets closing at high speed.

   “Fighters,” Saxon said. “Still think this was a good idea?”

   “Nothing wrong with an honor guard,” he replied.

   “Perhaps they'll honor you with a twenty-one-missile salute at your imminent funeral.”

   Cracking a smile, he asked, “Don't you think you'd get one?”

   “You only get a funeral when you die,” she replied. “I have no intention of dying here today, Commander. If I felt otherwise, I'd never have boarded the shuttle in the first place.” She looked down at the scanner screen, and raised an eyebrow as another dozen contacts appeared, adding, “Though I might have to revise that assessment under the circumstances.”

   “They're just being careful,” he said. “I'd feel the same way if the roles were reversed. For all they know, we're on a suicide mission.”

   “Funny,” she replied. “I'm beginning to agree with them. You said that your son is equally capable of commanding the fleet? I think we might have a chance to prove that theory.”

  Chapter 13

   “Signal from Castro, sir,” Schmidt said, her voice echoing over the ceiling speaker.

   “What is it?” Mike replied, moving from his bed, his eyes locked on the picture on the wall, a blonde woman holding a little girl in her arms. “Trouble?”

   “They're requesting assistance, Commander. They're at Icarus Point, and they've been pinned by a pair of enemy squadrons operating from the local station. No immediate threat, but they're unable to leave the system unless we can come get them.”

   “Can't they punch a way out with their fighters?”

   “They say not, sir, and I've looked at the sensor logs they've sent. I'm forced to agree with Commander Ortiz.” She paused, then added, “I've had Lieutenant Kenyon plot a course, and we can be there and back in eighteen hours.”

   “If we strain our drive units sufficiently that we'll find it tough to pull out of Hyperborea should things go wrong,” he replied. He rubbed his eyes, and said, “We're going to play this one differently, Lieutenant. I want a new course plot from Icarus Point to Hyperborea, and calculations on how long we can wait here for more ships to turn up.”

   Schmidt paused, then said, “We were meant to gather forces here, Commander, and Icarus Point's a long way from our target. Potentially straining our drive units. If I might recommend...”

   “Noted. My decision stands, Lieutenant. Inform Commander Ortiz that we will be there, but perhaps not as soon as he'd like, and suggest that he continue to explore ways of breaking out of the tr
ap he fell into by himself. We're not Castro's keeper. Curtis out.” He snapped off the communicator, then lay back on his bed, the digital frame flickering to a new image, back from his time at the Academy, two cadets with their arms wrapped around each other, grinning at the camera. He and Ortiz, twenty years ago. The door slid open, and he looked up to see Petrova walking into the room, glancing at the image before reaching across to the frame and switching it off.

   “I heard what you said to Schmidt,” she began.

   “And as I told her, my orders stand.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “That's not what I'm here to discuss. As it happens, I agree with you. It stands a good chance of throwing off the enemy a little, making them guess about our next move. That's not the issue. I need to talk about you.”

   “Pretty boring topic of conversation.”

   “Under Fleet regulations, Commander, I'm empowered to relieve you of command if, in my opinion, you're unfit to hold it. Now, we're nowhere near that point, but...”

   Bursting out in laughter, Mike replied, “Fleet regulations? You've got to be kidding me.” Pointing at the door, he said, “You go out there and find someone willing to help you relieve me. Go on. Try. I haven't had my morning laugh yet. Not that I want the damned job, anyway.”

   Her mouth moved into a faint smile, and she replied, “Point taken. Nevertheless, we're going to have a conversation, Commander, and we're going to have it now. Are you going to have trouble dealing with Commander Ortiz? I've looked over his record, and while it's not exactly that of a high-flier, he seems a competent enough officer, if more of a follower than a leader. Not a disadvantage for the commander of an auxiliary.”

   “Bill's not the problem. Not really. It's more what he represents that is the problem.”

   Nodding, she replied, “I did a little digging. Today is your sixteenth wedding anniversary.”

   “That's a nice sick joke right there,” he said, his eyes filled with venom. “The records were wiped. Largely to avoid embarrassing a senior figure in the Commerce Directorate. It was as though neither of them ever existed, erased from history.”

   “Tell me about it.”

   “And if I refuse?”

   She drew her pistol, leveled it at his chest, and replied, “Then I'll have to shoot you. Even if it means my death. In your current state, Lieutenant Schmidt is probably a better choice to command the ship than you are, and all that matters now is the survival of the ship and crew, as well as the completion of the mission. That's how strongly I feel about this.” With a sigh, she continued, “Damn it, I'm worried about you, and I'm not the only one!”

   “You try having your best friend try and sell you out. That'll give you some trust issues.”

   “I've given you no reason to doubt me.” She looked at the door, then said, “I give you my word that nothing you say here will leave this room. But you need to talk to someone about this, and I guess I'm the only one left. There's nothing happening for at least twenty hours, no ships entering or leaving the system, and your staff are more than capable of handling the routine. So talk. For both our sakes.”

   With a shrug, he replied, “What the hell. Why not. Let's travel back in time to when I was as green a bastard as the Academy ever turned out, all spit, polish and hell-fire, ready to take on the galaxy by myself before breakfast. Right about at graduation, I'd already found out that my father had crashed-out his career, and that only made me more determined to excel.”

   “And you graduated top of the class.”

   “Who's telling this story, anyway? But yes, I did. Got my pick of postings. And then I found out that my girlfriend was pregnant. We'd been talking about getting married anyway, so we moved things up a little. Had the ceremony right in Admiralty Hall, and the Commandant performed the service. My whole class turned up.” He sighed, then said, “Including Ortiz's father.”

   “What did that have to do with it?”

   “Turned out he had a wandering eye. I spent my first year on Earth, working in Fleet Headquarters. That's where I met Yoshida-san. Hell of a tactician. I learned a lot from him. My wife and I had a little girl. We called her Sara. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life.” With a deep sigh, he continued, “Then I was posted. A big step up. Acting Lieutenant on Borealis, Guidance Control, replacing someone who'd been injured. The Admiral, Commodore he was then, told me not to take it. Said he needed me back home. I think he was trying to tell me something.”

   Nodding, she replied, “That's on your record. You earned the Order of Merit during that cruise, right? Fighting against the rebel remnant out at 36 Ophiuchi.”

   “Eight months of action. At first I got a letter from my wife every day, images of her and my daughter. Then every three days, then every week. I didn't think of it at first. We were in action most days, the ship was damaged, I ended up running Tactical for a while. Then I got a final letter. She'd left me. Said she couldn't handle the separation, the loneliness, some crap like that. I put in for emergency leave, tried to get back, but it got blocked. Not by my commander, he'd pushed it as hard as he could, but someone on Earth wanted me to stay out on the frontier, I guess. Took me a long time to work out why.”

   “I'm sorry,” Petrova replied. “I truly am. It must be...”

   “Wait,” he said, raising a hand. “It gets worse. I got back home eventually, and it was all over bar the shouting. Ortiz turned up, sadder than I'd ever known him, and told me what had happened. His father had managed to get her a job working for him at the Commerce Directorate, In-System Transportation, and put on a full court press for months. It worked.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “And to his credit, Ortiz stopped speaking to his father that day.”

   “What about his mother?”

   “That's where it got messy. Real messy. And for a little while, I reaped a few benefits from that. You see, the bastard's wife not only didn't know, but she was the daughter of a senior figure in Planetary Security. One of those marriages. So Administrator Ortiz couldn't get a divorce, had to enjoy his new family on the side. As a result of which, I managed to get joint custody. While I was on Earth, she was mine. And then I found out...”

   “That the bastard was the one who had arranged your extrasolar postings in the first place, and the one who had prevented you going home in time to fix things.”

   “Why do I get the feeling you've heard stories like this before. Then-Commodore Yoshida rode to the rescue, got me a posting to the Academy so that I could have Sara for a year, and started making threatening noises about bureaucrats interfering with the lives of Fleet officers. Might have help some other poor son of a bitch, even if it was too late for me.”

   “Where is she now? Why was the record wiped?”

   As though he hadn't heard her, Mike continued, “It was the happiest year of my life. I spent most of it at home, working on a new set of distance-learning courses for service personnel, so I was with Sara the whole time. And I knew that the Fleet had my back, that someone was standing with me. Bill helped, as well. His sister used to babysit for me. Ironic, huh. The kids of that bastard were two of my best friends.”

   He looked down at the deck, his eyes filling with tears, and said, “It couldn't last forever. I had to take a posting sooner or later, and I ended up on the frontier for six months, out at Lucifer Station. Deputy commander. For a while, it looked like I'd be able to take her with me, but it fell through. Legal challenge stopped me taking her off Earth. Should have known it. Her mother promised me she'd take care of her.”

   “Did she run off with her?”

   “They went to Erebus, to the ski slopes, for a holiday. Her, Sara and Ortiz's father. Had a great time, by the looks of it. And then they stepped onto a transport to go back to Nova San Francisco.” Burying his head in his hands, he added, “They never made it. Accident. Crash. Everyone on board was killed.”

   “My God,” she replied, putting h
er hand on his shoulder. “I can't imagine...”

   “I didn't even find out about it for a month. Time lag. By the time I could get back to Earth, it was all over. And then I learned the worst of it. In order to save embarrassment, my wife, my child, were wiped out of the records. They were never there. Never existed. After all, for a senior bureaucrat to be caught on holiday with his mistress might have raised questions. And they were dead, and nothing could bring them back. My little girl was dead. And as far as the Federation was concerned, had never been.”

   She moved over to the bed, wrapping her arms around him, and he continued, “I guess I went a little crazy for a while. Ortiz's mother took me in for a bit. Guilt, I guess. And sympathy. She was hurting too, as bad as I was. She'd loved the old bastard. Yoshida gave me as long as he could, and then offered me my pick of postings. Anything to get me back on my feet. I ran for the frontier, and stayed there as long as I could.” Tugging at his jacket, he added, “The Fleet was all I had left. No family, all gone. Just the Fleet. So I figured I'd be the best damned officer there ever was, that I was going to pay them back, get that star on my shoulder.”

   “You've done that, and more,” Petrova whispered.

   Looking up at her, tears in his eyes, he said, “I'm a damned traitor! I'm leading the rebel fleet against them, and I'm about to kill thousands of people who are the nearest thing I have left to a family. My father's only just come back, and he's gone running off somewhere, and the odds of us both getting out of this battle aren't exactly promising. It's the longest long shot I can think of. And then Ortiz comes back, a ghost out of my past. I hadn't seen him for a decade.” Taking a deep, hacking breath, he added, “He's switched sides for me. Because of what happened. He always said he'd stand with me if I needed him, and I guess he decided this was the time. So that's more people thrown into the fire because of me.”

   Holding her close, she said, “You're doing the best you can, and you're fighting to make sure twisted bastards like that don't get to rule the roost any more. You're fighting to avenge the death of your daughter, and to give it some meaning. And that a man would defy his own father to stand with you says more about your character than anyone ever could. You're the man we need, right now. And you aren't alone. I'm here. So are a lot of others.” With a smile, she said, “You'll see your father again. Don't ask me how I know, but it's all going to work out. You'll find a way. I have faith in you. I believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself.”