“Yes. Thank you.”
The moon lowered as its dome expanded across the Nav-Con’s disk. The scar grew into three ragged canyons. At their termini, the Sthenos destroyers cutting cannons still tore into the ice, illuminating it a pale-green.
When Delaney moved to Jeffrey’s side, he could feel warmth from her arm near his. He suppressed an impulse to move away from her.
Delaney pointed to the Sthenos ships. “Ma’am,” she said to the Nav-Con officer, “can you zoom in more?”
“Absolutely Ma’am.”
The center ship grew until its midsection had filled the Nav-Con. The gnat-like ships still arced around the destroyer, ice caught in insect-like mandibles. As they approached the destroyer, they released the ice to freefall toward the dark opening on its back. However, the ice fell past the opening, crashing down to mix with the other debris misting the surface.
“It’s all a show,” Delaney said.
Jeffrey nodded. “I’m not sure of their true intention, but this,” he pointed to the ships, “is a sham. We’re walking into a trap.”
“You assume it’s a trap,” Delaney said.
“Ma’am I—”
She raised her hand to silence him. “What do you propose we do about it?”
“We arrest our approach. My guess is, we’re doing exactly what they want us to. If we change that behavior—”
Cantwell cut in, “We can observe their reaction to it.”
“What,” Delaney asked, “if they don’t react?”
Jeffrey said, “We continue on to Europa and hit them with everything we have.”
Her expression darkened. Motioning for her guards to stay put, she walked toward the exit ladder saying, “Captain Holt, walk with me please.”
Jeffrey looked to Cantwell, who shrugged.
With suspicion, Jeffrey followed her as she descended the ladder from the bridge and walked down a quiet corridor. After rounding a corner, she turned to face him. When her eyes, the color of autumn leaves, met his, his heart rate accelerated. He exhaled to suppress what he dismissed as an instinctual reaction to a physically beautiful woman.
“I don’t think,” she said in a quiet voice, leaning close to him, “the president will allow the attack to be called off, but I wanted you to know, off the record, that I think there’s something to what you’re saying.”
“Why does it have to be off the record?”
When she took hold of his forearm with gentle fingertips, Jeffrey scowled. She stood perhaps only six inches shorter.
“You don’t have to distrust me Jeffrey. I’m not like them,” she said as she slid her fingertips down his arm. “I have a sincere appreciation for… experience.”
Her charm could not get Jeffrey to forget that she and President Moore had both made campaign promises to dismantle the military machine. Once, in an interview with News Source’s Terri Blakely, she’d called military commanders fear mongers and those serving under them minions of an outdated and socially detrimental system.
“I thought people like you had written off my experience as implanted hallucinations.”
Her smile vanished. “I can admit I may have been… wrong. Can you?”
“Wrong? In what way?”
“Jeffrey,” her easy smile returned, “I don’t need saber rattling right now. I need everyone to take a step back, and consider the possibility that we aren’t facing a villainous race here. So many wars in our history have been based on cultural misunderstandings. Those people up there believe very much in you. Every time you get them riled up to fight, my job becomes more difficult. I need support from all areas if we’re going to effectively face this situation.”
Jeffrey watched her for a moment before saying, “Vice President—”
“Call me Samantha.”
Disinclined to do so, he said with a sigh, “Samantha… I understand that you want to believe that life makes sense and everyone has intrinsically decent hearts. However, for every war fought over a misunderstanding, ten are founded in boundless greed. There was no misunderstanding when the Nazis murdered eleven million civilians and prisoners of war. Nearly every culture on Earth has been guilty at one time or another of allowing self-serving gluttony to flare into cold-blooded brutality. Societies seem to have a natural tendency to descend into egocentrism and bigotry even if they begin with the best intentions.”
“Those were human societies. We’re not dealing with humans.”
Jeffrey removed her hand from his arm and took hold of her shoulders. “I need you to believe me when I say the Sthenos are far worse.”
“But we’ve had more than 200 years of peace. Surely…”
Jeffrey let the flash of anger he felt show in his tone. “We’ve had fifty years of peace Vice President Delaney.” He glared at her, daring her to step back into her old beliefs. When she seemed to falter, he said, “In our own history, moments of long-term peace have come and gone many times. Those periods seem to be an exception to the natural order rather than a progression.”
Crossing her arms, she said, “That strikes me as a dismal world view.”
“I’d be happy to give it up, but the memories I have,” he touched his temple, “which are founded in my experience with the Sthenos, won’t let me.”
“What if that experience was based on a misunderstanding? What if there is a better solution?”
“It wasn’t, and there isn’t.”
She flushed with anger. “I won’t accept that.”
“Madam Vice President, I’d like nothing more than to be wrong. If we could solve this without death, I’d be the first one in line, but we can’t. Blood’s already been spilt.”
“Is that what this is about? Your daughter-in-law?”
Jeffrey went still, unable for a moment to believe she’d bring Sarah into this. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? State the obvious? Don’t be like this Jeffrey.”
“Like—what?”
“Don’t make this about revenge.”
“I’ll make it about what I will.”
Her jaw flexed. Drawing a deep breath, she appeared to succeed in bolting her anger under a professional blankness. Straightening the front of her shirt, she said, “Mark my words captain, I won’t allow you to pour gas on this fire.” Without another word, She walked away leaving a cooling, empty space.
“Where are you going?”
As she disappeared around the corner, she said, “To get a message to the president. Despite your stubbornness, I’m still willing to back the testing of your theory. While we believe in different ends, I think we both agree that our current course is wrong. We’ll convene in the admiral’s conference room in one hour.”
…
Jeffrey sat beside Cantwell in the conference room. Delaney sat across from him. Cantwell, in good military fashion, looked well-rested despite having been stone asleep only a few minutes earlier. He sipped from a pale ceramic mug before saying, “I don’t think I’m going to enjoy the next few minutes.”
Delaney said, “Our messages from Earth are currently some twenty minutes one-way. Despite that, we already have a response from the president. I’ve viewed it and will share it with you in its entirety, but first I’ll show you the message I sent to him. I want you all to have a complete picture.”
Jeffrey tried to guess at the president’s response based on her expression, but her expression remained neutral as she asked one of the Marines to call up her message. She appeared on the pedestal, sitting with one leg crossed over the other. Jeffrey’s eyes drew up the length of her leg and along the curve of her hip. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he kept his gaze focused on the image’s face.
“Hello, John,” her image said, looking as real as the woman who sat across from him. She smiled beautifully with a practiced measure of humility. Jeffrey sensed insincerity in the perfection of that smile and wondered how much of her behavior was honest and how much manipulation.
“We have a possible complication
to discuss. Captain Holt has suggested the Sthenos ships are baiting the fleet. He feels that somewhere, nearby, more ships are waiting to ambush us. He bases this on his previous experience. I’m not sure if he’s correct.” She offered this with a slight smile as she shifted in her seat, her chest stretching her shirt.
As her message continued, Jeffrey felt he understood her as a legislator. Politicians wanted one thing above all else, influence over others. Of course, looking as she did, she would have used every tool at her disposal from her intelligence to her beauty to rise to the position she held. He recalled how close she’d stood to him at the Nav-Con and her fingertips on his arm in the corridor. She’d attempted to use her guile on Jeffrey, but he was no one’s puppet.
Delaney’s message to the president detailed Jeffrey’s deceleration tactic. When she’d finished, she gave a final, perfect smile and signed off.
Delaney said, “I’m sorry to have mentioned you Captain Holt, as you’re technically not supposed to be involved, but I needed to lend the credibility of your experience to influence his decision.”
I’m sure you’re sorry. Jeffrey saw through her mention of him. I won’t allow you to pour gas on this fire, she’d said. Instead of arguing with Cantwell directly, she intended to illustrate Jeffrey’s involvement and let the president do her dirty work for her.
Quelling his anger, he said, “You did what you had to do.”
She held his gaze for a moment, a slight smile in her eyes, before facing Cantwell. She glanced back at him as she said, “Admiral, I’m afraid I created a bit of trouble, but there’s not much I can do about it.”
Cantwell asked, “What sort of trouble?”
“I’ll share his response with you as explanation.”
The admiral nodded his consent, and the Marine called up the message.
A half-circle of desk and a leather chair appeared on the disk, blurred for a moment, then resolidified. The president was nowhere to be seen.
“Samantha,” the president’s voice said, “Admiral Cantwell.”
He materialized as he stepped in beside the chair holding a tablet. He wore no tie and his shirt collar was lifted on one side. Reaching beyond the area of the viewer, his arm and the tablet disappeared. His arm drew back, reforming, the tablet gone. As he sat, he crossed his hands on the half circle of desk.
Tapping its surface, he said in an irritated tone, “Midnight.”
The Lacedaemon’s clock, which ran on GMT, read 5:38 A.M.
The president propped his elbows on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to meet with the secretary of defense at 6 A.M.” He looked into the room, his eyes meeting no one.
“Samantha, as you stated in your message, you are there to support me. I would expect no less. After all, the fate of your career is tied to mine. I understand you want to be cautious, but I cannot have you going off half-cocked due to some old man’s delusion.”
Old man’s delusion?
Jeffrey’s hands gripped into fists.
President Moore said, “Admiral Cantwell, I understand how I slipped during our last communication. I’ll be clear now. I’m giving you a direct order. If Holt’s theory proves to be wrong, we will have wasted time and resources. In that case, which I am sure it is, Jeffrey Holt is to be removed from military service. Keep him away from your staff, and Samantha, you’d damn well better stop listening to him. Still…” He fell silent as though it pained him to admit that anything Jeffrey offered could possibly be correct. “…if I ignore his suggestion, and his hunch proves correct, I’ll be the biggest fool to have ever served in this office. Proceed with your deceleration. See what happens. If there’s no change in status, continue with the attack per Donovan’s recommendation. If I hear nothing from you, I will assume all is well and Holt is back in retirement… where he should have stayed.”
He nodded to his right and vanished from the view-pad.
Jeffrey clasped his hands together, leaning forward on his elbows. Having a man like President Moore making decisions was bad for war. Reactionary men concerned more with popularity than prudence could cause the deaths of millions. Jeffrey felt sure something horrific was about to happen, and that only those with definitive souls, those willing to sacrifice themselves for others, would be able to stop it.
In a flat tone Delaney said, “I think that went well.”
Jeffrey looked at her with a coldness.
She gave him a perfect smile. “Something troubling you Captain Holt?”
“I’m fine.” He stood. “I suppose we should find out if I stay in service.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass,” Cantwell said as he slapped his hand on his armrest and stood, “what Moore tells me to do. For all I care, he can throw me in a cell. He won’t pull me from command until this is over. Holt, you stay, no matter the outcome. That’s an order. Clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
Delaney came to her feet, dropping her tablet as Captain Donovan said, “Sir I—”
“I won’t have dissent on this Donovan.”
Donovan’s chin lifted. “Yes, sir.”
Delaney’s eyes widened with disbelief as she said, “Admi—”
“Ma’am, if you want to pull me from service, do it now, but unless you plan on leading this fleet yourself, I suggest you consider your next words carefully.”
Her eyes blazing with anger, she said, “I won’t pull you right now, but you must know this could end your military career.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep madam vice president. My military career was already supposed to be over.” He looked to Jeffrey, “Walk with me Captain Holt,” and left the room.
As Jeffrey followed Cantwell out of the room and down the corridor toward the bridge, he said, “I don’t think that played out to her expectations.”
With anger in his tone, Cantwell said, “Well then, she and her boss might want to reconsider whom they’re dancing with.”
…
Jeffrey stood beside Cantwell as he asked, “Am I linked to the fleet?”
Captain Raeburn, a stocky, balding man with a heavy bristle across his face, which Jeffrey considered had probably grown there in the last few hours, said, “Yes sir.”
“Fleet,” Cantwell said, “cut acceleration.”
The men and women at the helm began inputting information and communicating in hushed tones. The subtle vibration in the deck plates vanished. The stillness and ensuing weightlessness felt like death.
“Initiate turn.”
Above, the star field came to life, sweeping the Jovian system’s bright chain of sparks away. The carbon fiber shin and calf supports of his mag-boots allowed Jeffrey to stay upright as his mass accelerated through the turn with the ship, but he did have to widen his stance to brace himself. Above, which really was out ahead relative to the Lacedaemon’s bow, the small, brilliant disk of the sun slid into view from the right, settling a few degrees past center. The ships of the fleet, which had been behind the Lacedaemon, now hung among the stars, long blades of metal, all different constructions, some silvery, others glistening white, still others like dark iron.
“Begin deceleration burn of 1 G on my mark,” Cantwell said. “Mark.”
The vibration returned to the ship as the Lacedaemon came back to life and the weight returned to Jeffrey’s feet. Out among the stars, fifty-six sets of engine thrusters erupted to life in reds, oranges, and white-hot blues.
Jeffrey looked to the Nav-Con where the Sthenos destroyers’ green blades of energy still cut into the ice.
“No change,” he said.
Delaney came to stand beside him. “Don’t give in so readily, captain.”
With Cantwell’s surprising resistance, she was now playing nicer. He felt the subtle warmth of her nearness again and caught the lightly floral scent of her. A flourish in his chest rose up his neck, warming his face. He moved around the Nav-Con until the disk stood fully between them. He looked up to the thruster glow of the fleet.
“Please,” he said quietly as he took her hand from his arm, “don’t try this with me.”
“Excuse me?” Her dark-amber eyes narrowed.
He said quietly, “I know what you’re doing. I’m not a chess piece to be moved around where best fits your purpose.”
She kept her voice low, “Are you suggest—”
“They’re moving!” The Nav-Con officer said.
Jeffrey looked to the Nav-Con. The Sthenos ships had shut down their beams, and were lifting away from the gouged surface of Europa where shattered blocks of ice descended slowly through the fog of frozen vapor.
“Nav-Con,” Admiral Cantwell said, “keep them on the viewer.” His voice remained calm as he said, “Unfortunately Holt, it seems you’re to stay in service.”
“That is unfortunate,” Jeffrey said. “Looks like we’re in for hell.”
“Navigation,” Cantwell asked, “from this position and velocity, how long would it take us to reach Earth?”
“Earth?” Delaney asked incredulous. “What are you suggesting?”
Cantwell held up his hand to silence her. “If you get underfoot vice president, I’ll have you removed from the bridge.”
“Admiral, I will not be spoken to in that way”
“Ah,” Cantwell said, “you just were. Now stay out of the way.”
Eyes narrowing, she said nothing.
A male officer, his face still holding hints of the boy he’d been only a few years before, ran his fingers over the panel at his workstation and said, “At 3 G’s of deceleration we’ll have Earth-relative full-stop in ten hours 31 minutes. At that point, under full acceleration and deceleration we’ll be four days and two hours from Earth orbit sir.”
“What thrust percentage can the entire fleet match?”
“Eighty-five percent, sir, but that will put us at 4 G’s.”
“We can’t sustain 4 G’s for that length of time,” Cantwell said. “Get us prepped for deceleration at 3 G’s. We need to be Earthbound now.”
Hammerhead Resurrection Page 11
