Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series

by J. S. Hawn

  “And how exactly am I supposed to get the League Parliament to go along with enforcing their treaty obligations? Normally, I could reason with them, but everyday Francisco and his Nationalist wing grows stronger.”

  “The Nationalists won't be a problem Ambassador. Just get the Speaker to call for the vote when it's time.”

  “Again, how do you expect...”

  Garrett held out a folder, which Traq took. After reading, Traq’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Good Christ man do you know what this is?!” Traq asked.

  “I certainly do. Special Branch makes a point of keeping an eye on potential threats to the Republic's interest. Although, we could have avoided this if you amoebas in the Foreign Office had just let us manipulate the poll result.”

  Traq ignored the swipe. It was Republic policy not to meddle in the elections of any of its allies or clients. Though that rule was often bent as far as it could go.

  Looking down at the information before him, Traq cringed as he handed it back to the Colonel.

  “What is it you intend to do with this information, Garrett? Blackmail? People will know.”

  “They will and they won't, because it will be close. How many votes do you need to swing it your way six?”

  “After today, probably eight,” Min said flatly.

  Garrett shrugged, “So it will pass narrowly. Of course there will be outrage. There will be accusations of bribery, collusion, and such, but we’ll manage and one by one the targeted MPs will drop out of the public eye. They will resign to spend time with their families or for medical reasons, and we’ll make sure their replacements are more in line with our way of thinking.”

  “This will backfire,” Traq said. “Francisco will kick up such a fuss that it will all come out.”

  Garrett’s expression became very smug.

  “I doubt it, Mr. Francisco is a politician and any politician values power. If it came out that as a student he dabbled with radical left wing politics, well I don't think he’d survive it.”

  “So that’s your plan? Blackmail a few for their votes and hold what you have over the others to keep them quiet.”

  “Well relatively quiet. There will be hearings of course, and we’ll make sure there are appropriate fall guys. We are already setting up a dummy cartel, which will “buy” the pro-war votes because they wanted to win a lucrative arms contract.”

  “You can’t seriously believe this will work Colonel?”

  “Why not? It has worked before.”

  “And it has failed, and I am telling you this time it will fail. Francisco and the rest of his ilk are hypocrites, but don't let his bluster fool you. The man is smart, and what's worse he believes his own rhetoric. He will find a way to turn this against us.”

  “Irrelevant,” Garrett said simply. “Our mission is to deliver the League's basing rights, auxiliary forces, and economic heft for the war effort.”

  “If there is a war,” Traq said.

  “The courier ship is flying to Charlemagne as we speak Ambassador. Do you have any doubt what the answer will be when it returns?”

  Traq hung his head, “No.”

  He was quiet for a minute and then extended his hand.

  “Okay Garrett we’ll do it your way, but when this goes pear shaped remember that I warned you.”

  “Agreed,” the man said flatly handing the ambassador the blackmail file back.

  Chapter VI

  Solaria System, Near Zhong’s Orbit, Solarian Republic

  On Board RSNS Leaf Hopper and RSNS Sound of Fury

  October 15th 843 AE

  Jonathan sat in the dimness of his cabin on board the tender ship that was carrying him toward his new command. It had been two weeks since the Premier’s ultimatum, but the rhetoric hadn't been toned down. If anything, it had been raised. Everyday the news packets the tender downloaded off the system info-net carried images of marches in the Colonial Confederacy, people out in force calling for war. The Colonial Government had also enacted new internal security laws. Several peace proponents were now under arrest. The Colonial media was also growing more and more antagonistic. Jonathan had even seen a segment, originally aired on Information Vital National a well known right wing broadcasting station in the Confederacy, then re-aired on The National News Service in the Republic, which covered him. The Colonial piece had some Doctor of Psychology outlining how Jonathan was obviously capable of launching a nuclear strike on civilians, because of some unnamed childhood trauma. The NNS piece had used this as an example of how Colonial propaganda was getting out of control. Jonathan had been largely indifferent to the whole thing. Personally, he was a proponent of launching every so called journalist into the nearest star, but that wasn't his decision to make. Stuck on the Leaf Hopper for two weeks, though, Jonathan had a good deal of time to think. The propaganda piece reminded him of the conversation he’d had with his friends the day after Will’s wedding. It was a tragedy how people would exploit the natural human desire for a simple narrative to manipulate people without them even knowing it.

  Lying in his bunk, Jonathan finished up his correspondence. Even though his assignment was to a secure part of space, he wanted to finish his letters in case the war interrupted communication. He finished one letter to his brother Jaroed, another to his mother, and two to his sister that he would file with the rest in his draft folder. He hadn't heard from Julia in years, and had no idea how to reach her, but still he wrote letters for her. They had been close, all three of them. Once, as close as brothers and sister could be, but time had caused them to drift apart. Jonathan and Jaroed still saw each other and talked frequently, but while Jonathan had chosen a life among the stars, Jaroed had settled into a life of domestic bliss with a wife, kids, a lovely home and a respectable job as a police officer. Julia had gone far afield, and it was only the fact that her Spacer Union dues were paid that let her next of kin know she was alive. Jonathan finished his letter to her, and put it in the same file he always did - ‘In Case I Die’. If Jonathan was ever reported KIA, the file would automatically be sent to his brother and Jonathan knew Jaroed would find a way to get it to Julia. Thinking for a moment, Jonathan took the other letter he’d written and looked over it. It was to Bethany and it was a sappy, irritating mess. Despite their enjoyable entanglement, Jonathan still wasn't sure if there was anything more than an animal lust between them. Bethany had seemed to let her guard down with him, and give him a peek at the real person beneath the drug snorting, party girl caricature she insisted on showing the world. Then again, Jonathan very much doubted there could ever be anything deeper between them than friendship. They were just too far apart. Jonathan took the letter to Bethany and put it in his trash folder. Closing the holo screen of his memo pad, he stretched out on his bunk and lay looking at the cabin ceiling. Despite only being 29 years of age, growing closer to thirty with his birthday on January 12th, Jonathan felt far more aware of his mortality than he had before. The wounds he'd sustained from Titan’s battle had been serious, far more serious than he let his family or friends know, and he felt deeper scars that ran along his soul. His actions on the Valiant hadn't affected him like this, maybe because deep down he knew there had been no choice, and his actions had saved more lives than it cost. New Helsinki though, he could have run and it might have saved some of the lives of the crew. Although, it certainly would have meant a long and costly engagement, and possibly start a war. That war, though, looked to start anyway. Reflecting on his melancholia, Jonathan decided the best thing to do was to pray. Jonathan's father had been raised Catholic, but had abandoned organized religion not long after his home world Hera was obliterated in nuclear fire. Jonathan's mother had grown up a Unitarian, but had little use for the faith. Jonathan's brother had converted to Hinduism to please his wife. Jonathan, for his part, had found solace in the Church of the Stellanauta, a widely practiced but often unseen religion that appealed to the niche market of spacers. The religion had few rules, and even fewer ceremonies.
They never held services of any kind, and their codex was widely open to interpretation. At their core, however, was that each man needed to find his own way to the divine, and then he alone could kneel in his presence. Jonathan had visited the Stellanauta chapel in Levelflats not long before William’s wedding. He said his prayer, and as was tradition acquired a small iron coin bearing the likeness of Tu the ancient Maori God of War. He carried that coin with him as a talisman to ask favor from the supreme deity in his undertaking. Now, Jonathan knelt on the floor of his small cabin within the tendership, and placed that coin next to the other he carried with him always. The one that he had taken from the temple upon being given command of Titan, which bore the visage of the Archangel Michael. The tender ship's CO, a surly little Petty Officer, had informed his passenger that they’d be making their rendezvous with RSNS Sound of Fury within six hours to deliver their precious cargo of mail, water, and one new commanding officer. Plenty of time then for the one small thing Jonathan had to do. Lighting a candle and placing it beside the coins, Jonathan removed his jacket and cap and all vestiges of rank, title and honors. He then got down on his knees before the candle and prayed.

  “To you Alpha and Omega, Creator and Destroyer. To you by whichever name you wish to be called. I kneel on this day to ask the forgiveness of those who I have led to their death.” Jonathan closed his eyes as the faces came to him. Daimion Krishna his old communications officer, a bright and efficient young man, who had his whole career in front of him. Marcus Halman, a jumped up little shit, but still someone’s son, and all the other good men and women who had died screaming in agony, or in the very silence of the great black void. Jonathan felt each of their deaths in his heart like the nick of a razor blade. In front of others, he postured and pretended and said all the right things. He comforted the widows, and told small boys their dads had died heros. In private, they haunted him. Within his breast, Jonathan felt those scars over his heart pull open and ooze pain onto his soul. Jonathan steeled himself and continued the prayer,

  “Our lives are like a flame. We will burn with the intensity of a star or the meekness of a candle, and then when all is said and done we will fade.” Jonathan blew out the candle,“And only the memory of our warmth will remain upon this place. We will go to meet the ferryman, and cross the distant void through starlight and darkness. Where angels fear to go, we will walk to the ever distant shores and rest among the honored dead of this time and all time.”

  Jonathan placed his forehead upon the floor, “Though many of us are never to lie in an earthen grave, we ask that you grant us rest among the oblivion of the stars. For those who have died, and those who are about to die and for my own soul now and upon the hour of my death I pray.” Jonathan lit the candle again, and watched as it burned its blue flame. Old school candles were forbidden on ships of course. It was never a good idea to introduce an oxygen consuming, carbon creating, flammable object to a sealed environment. Rather, Stellanautas like Jonathan, as well as other religious groups, used Oxygene candles for their ceremonies. For Stellanauta the Oxygene candle had the unique status of being a standard issue item for any spacer survivor pack. The cool, burning flame consumed carbon dioxide and emitted oxygen, which made it far more practical aboard starships. Jonathan watched the flame slowly burn down. Inside he felt a calm come over him, he closed his eyes and breathed. The scars over his heart slowly grew shut again. The poem Jonathan's mother had often recited floated into the back of his mind once more.

  “To all men upon this earth death cometh soon or late.

  What better way for a man to die than facing fearful odds.

  Before the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his gods.”

  Jonathan opened his eyes and extinguished the candle. His was a sacred trust. The Navy trusted him to lead his ship and all the souls aboard through the void. His crew would trust him with their lives. He would very soon once again be the one thing he had always wanted to be - First Master After God, the Captain of a Solarian Republic Navy Warship. The doubt faded, as did all other feelings. In his heart of hearts, Jonathan knew he could do this. He was born for this. Jonathan sat for a while in the dark of the cabin. He wasn't a true believer who approached religious doctrine without question, but prayer and the spiritualism of the Stellanauta gave him peace, and deep down Jonathan believed he had been too far and seen too much not to feel as if he was but a tiny cog in the vast design of an all powerful creator. Putting his thoughts aside, Jonathan rose and began to prepare to disembark. When Jonathan had first come aboard Leaf Hopper, its CO Petty Officer Chatson made it clear he regarded Jonathan as no more than cargo. Though his hostility was unwarranted as Jonathan had never met Chatson, he was the designated commander of the ship, which meant he technically outranked Jonathan. Jonathan for his part had decided not to give the temperamental little man any more reason to dislike him, and retreated to his cabin for the voyage. The cabin was barely more than a ten by eight foot cubicle, but it had its own convection oven, shower cubicle, and chem toilet. Jonathan had reveled in it. Growing up on a tramp freighter, he’d often spent time in small, confined spaces and felt most comfortable there. In fact, Jonathan hadn't set foot outside the cabin since Leaf Hopper had left Macran. Something that he’d discovered had driven Petty Officer Chatson bonkers. Leaf Hopper was a standard tender that you would find in any Navy. Two hundred and fifty feet long, she carried six external cargo modular nodes, a crew of five with room for two passengers, and a data core for the mail and correspondence. Tenders were slow boats. They didn’t get anywhere fast, but they got there. The crews were usually tight knit and discipline was lax. So it had come as no surprise to Jonathan when six hours away from Sound of Fury, he’d received a thank you note from the ship’s engineer for helping him win the pool. Apparently, the crew had picked dates when Jonathan would emerge from his cabin, and either demand better quarters, or try to order the CO about. The fact that the crew hadn’t seen Jonathan since leaving space dock was unheard of, and apparently worth fifty Solars to the engineer who had politely inquired if Jonathan wanted a share. Jonathan had declined, as he felt the man was entitled to the winnings. He seemed to be someone who often took long odds and those rarely paid off. Jonathan finished collecting his things as Leaf Hopper’s engines flared, slowing the tender into orbit of the gas giant. Zhong, aside from shielding Solaria from rogue asteroids and comets, served as an ideal place for the Navy to park it’s mothball fleet. This kept the old fleet from cluttering up badly needed dock space at Macran, or become a navigation hazard riding at Grav Anchor in Solarian orbit. The Navy needed the space too. After the Third Dominion War was over it gave the Navy a large territory to police along with the threat of other foreign foes, including the now very real threat of the Colonial Confederacy. The Solarian Republic had commenced a steady naval build up over the last three decades. As a result, the Navy now had, at any one time, close to six hundred hulls in service. This made it more cost effective to keep older, unneeded or damaged vessels in storage rather than in active service. It was a practice that dated back to the navies of age of sail on Earth, and it still served a useful purpose. There were about a hundred and fifty hulks orbiting Zhong, including the wrecked hull of Jonathan's old ship the Titan and his new vessel Sound of Fury. Though Titan was sadly fated to languish until a dry dock opened up for her, or more likely she was hauled off to the breakers, Sound of Fury stood ready to awaken once more. It was like the ancient leviathan of Terran legend stirring from a long slumber to once more prowl among the vast gulf between the stars. The mothball ships around Zhong were stored in such a way that they could be pressed back into service with a minimum of time, effort, and resources. Rather than pulling the mothballed vessel into dry dock to reactivate it, a service ship would dock with the decommissioned vessel and re-pressurize it, while technicians made repairs and restarted the critical systems. Once the ship was functional again, crew and supplies could be brought on by tenders, like Leaf Hopper, which was tasked with serv
icing three of the ships orbiting Zhong, filling up their fresh water tanks. Once refilled, a warship’s water reclamation system could go up to six months without topping off again, longer on the bigger ships. Of course the water would get pretty rank by month six. It was considered not just wasteful, but also dangerous to leave mothballed ships tanked up. Space was cold and leaving frozen water lying around was never a good idea. Jonathan had seen ice break metal, bend steel and render electronics inoperable. Before going into mothball ships were drained of their water reserves and scrubbed as best they could be of any moisture. It did make refiling them a bit of a chore. Leaf Hopper was the last of three water refilling missions Sound of Fury was scheduled to receive. Jonathan zipped up his bag reflecting on his anxiousness to get to work with his new command. Jonathan had spent the flight reviewing the Sound of Fury history and service record. As Vice Admiral Hopper had told him, Fury was a Horatio class Light Cruiser with her hull number LC-1196. She was one of the last of the Horatio’s. She had been laid down in Oldport Drive Yards in the orbit of Solaria in 818 AE, ten years before Jonathan had entered the academy. She’d been in commission for fifteen years before being put into mothball. She’d served with some distinction during the tail end of the Third Dominion, and a flare up along the Commonwealth border. She’d been meant to have a lifespan of 30 years, and had been put on the shelf not because of her record of service, but because of her design. The Horatios had first entered service almost forty years ago at the tail end of the Second Dominion War. The class had been designed as a stop-gap measure to fill the tactical role that was eventually taken by the Olympian class destroyers. Fury and her sisters were twice as large, less well armored, and less well armed than the Olympians like Titan. Fury grossed 38,000 tons measuring 1,000 feet from stem to stern. She had a crew of 650 not counting her Marine contingent. Fury’s build was a bit abnormal. She lacked a superstructure. Her bridge and combat information center was located in a low rise blister amidship. Fury was powered by two fission cores, one fore and one aft, which gave her a top speed almost twice as fast as most other ships in the fleet. If she ran her reactos on red, she could even keep up with the newest of the CRS frigates. Her armament consisted of eight rail guns in four turrets, which were located top and bottom - fore and aft, making them capable of a 360-degree rotation. In addition to her big guns, she carried twenty-four plasma cannons - twelve on each side, three forward torpedo tubes and twelve Menace multi-purpose missile launchers. Defensively, the Fury showed the shortcomings of her class. She carried only four Syrkowski Kinetic Barriers, three primaries and one back up, which forced her to rely more heavily on her 36-inch battle steel plates. One of Fury’s more interesting features was her expanded armory and hanger. She could carry a full light raider company of 250 Marines, and eight combat gunships. This brought her total complement to roughly 800 souls. Part of the thinking when the Horatios were being designed was they could be used as shore and commerce raiders. Fast, heavily armed and armored ships that could sweep aside enemy defenses, destroy freighters and strike space installations as well as soft targets ground side. Jonathan had examined the Fury's schematics in some detail. He could see why the Horatios were considered a problematic design, but in the hands of a good captain and crew they could be highly versatile and deadly vessels. Jonathan had wanted to review his new crew personnel files to get the measure of the officers he'd be working with, and the men he’d be leading, but some dunce at the Office of Personnel had failed to send him the correct files. By the time they had realized it, they’d simply sent the files via tight beam laser transmission directly to Sound of Fury. They had managed to send him a partial list of names of which officers would be assigned to Fury, but Jonathan would have to wait until he was on board to review their files. Jonathan wasn't particularly bothered by the files being mislaid. It was standard military operating procedure, and had been so since time immemorial, Situation Normal All Fucked Up. Jonathan could hear the echo of the Leaf Hopper’s docking collar sliding into place with Sound of Fury. Gathering his duffel bag and pulling his peaked cap down on his head less it float off in low-g, he exited his tiny cabin. Exchanging stiff formalities with the Leaf Hopper’s CO, Jonathan stepped into the docking tube and floated toward the ship pushing his bags ahead of him. A few minutes later Jonathan heard the melody of Bosun's pipes as he grabbed the handle bar and swung onto Fury’s deck. Jonathan returned the salute of the commander standing opposite of him.