Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon
Page 58
08:00 January 16, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Flight Briefing Room
The preflight briefing room crowd Michael had gathered via conversations, in-system meeting invites, and other mostly quiet methods was sparser than he’d have liked. After a few minutes of soul-searching the previous day, he’d restricted himself almost entirely to old hands.
Key among the group were Wing Commander Russell Rokos and Master Chief Petty Officer Marshall Hammond. Rokos might have been the most junior Wing Commander in Starfighter Group Zero-Zero-One, but he was the most senior person in the room after Michael himself.
Hammond, on the other hand, even wounded was the most senior NCO in the Space Force aboard. He knew everyone in the Group. If there was someone Michael would trust to know who else to drag into their little ‘team,’ it would be Hammond.
“All right people,” Michael said loudly, stepping up to the front of the room. As his people turned to him, almost every eye in the room went to him – and then to his hip. To his knowledge, no one in the room had ever seen him armed. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the seven millimeter automatic the Federation Navy and Space Force used as a standard sidearm, but he was at least qualified on the weapon.
“All right,” he repeated. “As you may have guessed, this meeting isn’t exactly on the books, and the selection criteria isn’t particularly formal. For anyone who hasn’t picked up on at least the first one, everyone in this room was at Tranquility.”
That silenced the remaining conversations and fidgeting.
“You’re here because I trust you, and the Captain trusts you,” he said simply. “I’m sure the rumor mill has been working overtime on the ship for the last few weeks, so I’m going to give you some of the details behind those rumors.
“Firstly, yes, there was an attempt to assassinate me, and two attempts to murder Captain Roberts,” Michael said bluntly. “This is why we’re on a communications lockdown. The Captain and the Admiral both feel that we likely have a Commonwealth spy on board.”
“Is that why you’re armed?” Flight Lieutenant Ivan Kovalchick asked. The dark-haired young man looked nervous. Michael knew him well – Kovalchick had been under Michael’s command the entirety of the younger man’s career. Nervousness wouldn’t stop him doing what he thought was right.
“The last attack on the Captain was the most blatant yet,” Michael replied. “At this point, we face the possibility of our spy accelerating their actions and moving to direct attacks. We are, after all, five days from Barsoom.”
“But you’re not putting together this little conspiracy because of a spy,” Rokos pointed out, the big Wing Commander leaning forward at the front of the room. “How much insanity is going on on this ship, boss?”
“Too much,” the CAG told him. “We definitely have a spy aboard. We’re also in complete communications lockdown under the Admiral’s seal. We’re on a mission that no one is even pretending isn’t outright revenge anymore.
“Last, but by no means least, are the rumors coming to my ears of a potential mutiny.”
There. He’d finally said it aloud, to his people. In a sense, saying that one word was crossing the Rubicon – once the senior officers of the ship started acting to curtail mutiny, a lot of questions would get asked when the dust settled.
“All we are going on is rumors,” he carefully clarified, “but they’re consistent and coming from all three services aboard Avalon. These rumors accused Senior Fleet Commander Sanchez of sounding out personnel about their loyalties, looking for people loyal to the Federation or the Admiral above the Captain.
“This is worrying as Void,” Michael continued. “Perhaps more so because despite looking, and despite the rumors reaching our senior NCOs’ ears,” he nodded to Hammond, “getting more common, we have confirmed nothing.
“We took all of this, the rumors, our fears, our lack of evidence, to Captain Roberts yesterday. He feels… some degree of precaution is necessary.
“You are in this room because I trust you – and because you are rated in the use of shipboard small arms,” he told them. “We have no idea what the mutineers plan might be – Void, we aren’t even sure there is actually a mutiny.
“The immediate precaution is to prepare a small force of people we can trust and make sure they have the equipment they need,” he gestured around the room. “Chief Hammond – with you on medical leave, I suspect you can sneak a few quiet meetings in without being noticed. I want you to coordinate with Kalers, the Gunny and the Bosun to have arms lockers added to the flight deck and locations of your choosing in Flight Country. The access codes are to be distributed to everyone in this room.
“The XO is pulling together a similar team of personnel from the shipboard side. Once we’ve established everything, we’ll have you all added to a hidden com network in the ship’s systems. If one of the senior officers or NCOs believes a mutiny has begun, we will transmit the code phrase ‘Guinevere’ over that network.
“Once you receive that message, we will need to draw arms and wait for instructions,” Michael said in a rush of breath. “Hopefully, we will be in a position to coordinate efforts and neutralize any attempted mutiny quickly. If we cannot pass on instructions, I’ll need this group to secure the flight deck and make certain that we remain in control of the starfighters.”
The crowd in front of him was very quiet, and Michael scanned their faces. No one looked guilty, or unwilling – just shocked and concerned. Some fear. That was to be expected.
“I’m not going to order you to be involved in this,” he told them quietly. “I’m not worried about anyone in this room joining a mutiny or even warning the mutineers, so if you want to just carry on… the door’s behind you.”
To his surprise, no one left.
11:00 January 16, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Captain’s Break-out Room
Lieutenant Major Sirvard Barsamian, Kyle noted, was starting to look less nervous at giving presentations in the little conference room attached to the Captain’s office. She faced the small gathering – Kyle, Solace, Tobin and Sanchez – calmly.
“We’ve reviewed all camera footage from the twelve hours prior to the attack on Captain Roberts,” she told them quietly. “As I mentioned to the Captain before, the cameras in the section his quarters were shutdown prior to the attack, but I’d hoped to pick up footage of the drone somewhere else on the ship.”
She shook her head with a frustrated expression.
“We’ve had no luck whatsoever,” she admitted. “Whoever our attacker is, they appear to have complete access to many of our systems – more complete than I have. I have to confess, sirs, that I have no idea how anyone could have this level of access.
“This isn’t just viruses or access codes,” Barsamian continued. “Even if someone had, say Captain Roberts’ authorization codes, they couldn’t pull this off without leaving traces. This is… someone with Command level codes, top-tier viral software, and a level of knowledge of the system architecture involved no Commonwealth agent should have. If Commonwealth Intelligence was this good, I’d expect the war to be over already!”
“So the surveillance footage is a bust,” Kyle said. “That’s… frustrating. What do you have, Lieutenant Major?”
“The drone itself, sir,” she answered. “The computer core is useless. The damage that rendered it non-functional saved Captain Roberts’ life, but also left us unable to extract any data. I have the drone under guard and my forensics team is going over it in detail.
“We already know it was manufactured in an auto-fabricator aboard Avalon,” she warned them. “What we’re trying to do, which will take time, is see if we can identify the exact fabricator that was used. While we have no record in the system of the drone being built, there are a number of things we can examine to try to identify our spy once we’re looking at the source.”
“Have you tried looking for other blank spots in the camera footage?”
Solace asked.
“Unfortunately, it appears that whatever tool the spy is using is causing the footage to report as being present and functional to all searches – until someone actually tries to view the video, we can’t tell it isn’t there,” the Ship’s Marshal replied. “It’s damned sneaky, and even full AI protocol defense programs are failing to find whatever is doing it.”
“I get the feeling our spy is several steps ahead of us,” Kyle said grumpily. “That’s no reflection on you, Major. We’re dealing with someone very professional and disturbingly well-informed on our systems and our counterintelligence procedures.
“We should have enough data to identify the fabricator inside the few next few days,” Barsamian promised. “I wish I had more to tell you all. I expect to have a briefing of some kind before we reach Barsoom.”
“Thank you, Major,” Kyle replied. “Keep in close coordination with Master Sergeant Peng Wa and Senior Fleet Commander Solace,” he ordered. “I don’t want you carrying out any investigations without backup, do you hear me? This whole mess is making me twitchy.”
He glanced over at Tobin and Sanchez.
“We have some ship business to discuss with the Marshal as well,” he told them. “I’m sure you have other tasks to get to if you want to leave us to it.”
Theoretically, even the ship’s Captain couldn’t dismiss the Admiral. In practice, however, even Admirals could take polite hints.
By the time Sanchez and Tobin had left, leaving Barsamian alone with Kyle and Solace, the Ship’s Marshal’s admirable calm at facing her superiors was starting to crack. She remained standing, straight-backed, but Kyle saw her gaze darting from side to side, like an animal for an escape.
“Take a seat, Lieutenant Major,” he ordered. “This is in the order of a more… informal conversation than most. Coffee? Beer?”
“You realize absolutely none of your officers are going to accept a beer while on duty, right?” Solace asked him.
“Coffee, sir,” Barsamian said quietly as she took the proffered seat. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll point out, Commander Solace, that the CAG does occasionally,” Kyle told his XO. Nonetheless, he poured a new coffee for Barsamian and refreshed his and Solace’s. There might be a mini-fridge stocked with beer in his office, but he didn’t drink on duty any more than his staff did.
“That’s because Michael can tell between when you’re joking, when you’re rewarding someone, and when you’re about to hang someone out to dry,” she pointed out. “The rest of us aren’t quite so skilled yet.”
Kyle shook his head at Solace, then returned his attention to Barsamian.
“I presume, Sirvard, that you’ve heard the rumors of certain individuals engaging in actions that could be… uncharitably considered precursors to mutiny,” he stated. “I am now officially informing you that I have grounds for suspicion of mutiny.”
Barsamian inhaled sharply, and he nodded firmly. Once that status was declared and confirmed by the Executive Officer, what Kyle could order done expanded dramatically.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked levelly. That was impressive in and of itself, given the magnitude of Kyle’s words.
“For the moment, keep an ear to the ground, and keep a weapon to hand,” Kyle ordered. “Master Sergeant Wa is already aware of the situation. Make sure the Marines you trust are briefed, and aware of the concern.
“Our Commonwealth spy, aggravating as they are, gives us an excuse to post guards on key sections of the ship,” he continued. “Use it. I want sentries on engineering, the bridge, and Secondary Control.”
“What about the flight deck?”
“We have less than forty Marines aboard,” Kyle pointed out. “I’ve asked the CAG to make sure the flight deck is secure.”
The Marshal nodded, and he could see the wheels turning in her head as she planned.
“Sir, I have to ask,” she said after a moment. “Have we considered the possibility this mutiny is linked to our spy?”
That literally stopped Kyle in mid-thought.
“It seems… unlikely,” he admitted after a moment’s consideration. “After all, while I’m not sure of the reasons rumor definitely places Commander Sanchez at the heart of this. If I had more than rumor, she’d be in the brig.
“Our spy seems unlikely to be a long-serving loyal Federation officer like Sanchez,” he concluded. “I have no idea what bug is up her ass, but I don’t think she’s working for the Commonwealth.”
“I understand, sir. But we do need to consider all possibilities. Given the level of expertise this agent has shown so far, it doesn’t seem out of the question. In fact,” Barsamian inhaled deeply, “we should consider the possibility these rumors were started by said agent to discredit Commander Sanchez and sow dissent amongst our senior command.”
Kyle glanced to Solace.
“Mira?” he asked. “I am all too aware that Commander Sanchez hates my guts, for whatever reason, which may be biasing my opinion here.”
“It’s… possible,” Solace admitted. From the sour expression on her face, the thought hadn’t occurred to her either. “However, all of our preparations are defensive in nature,” she pointed out. “We’re not preemptively brigging Sanchez.”
“You could, sir,” Barsamian pointed out. “Even with only rumors, with a suspicion of mutiny we could arrest her and search her quarters and files. About the only thing we can’t do is force her to submit to implant download.”
Kyle sighed and shook his head.
“You didn’t hear this, Major,” he said quietly, “but the Admiral and I are… at somewhat of loggerheads over the continued pursuit of Triumphant and how he has handled the latest communication lockdown. Arresting his Chief of Staff would be extremely counter-productive to our working relationship at this point.
“If you find even the slightest scrap of evidence? She’s going straight in the brig until we know more. But I need something solid. Something more concrete than lower decks rumor-mongering. Until then, all we can do is make preparations for a worst case scenario.”
“I understand, sir,” Barsamian nodded. She didn’t look happy. “With your permission, then, I should get to it.”
“Carry on, Major.”
13:00 January 16, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Vice Admiral Tobin’s Office
It seemed dark in Dimitri’s office. He’d turned the lights up as high as they could go, and it hurt his eyes to look at them, but everything still felt vaguely dim. Shadowy. Like a dark veil was draped over his gaze, even though everything seemed perfectly clear.
The paperwork and minutia of his job were on his computer, waiting for him, but he could barely muster up the energy to face them. The big Admiral paced his office. Ten steps one way. Ten steps the other. It wasn’t a particularly large room, but he’d never noticed that before.
With a curse and a hand gesture, he cut the lights to a lower level, reducing the lighting in the room to match his mood. That only made the flashing red icon on the screen more obvious.
Right now, no messages could leave the buffer stack of Avalon’s interstellar Q-Com array without Dimitri personally approving them. If that hadn’t been the case, he never would have seen the message the warning icon was advising him he must release.
It was a Priority Alpha One communiqué. A recorded message, because the Joint Chiefs knew the ship was on communications lockdown, for Captain Roberts’ eyes only. If Dimitri hadn’t abused the strange situation with one ship under his direct command, he never would have seen it.
Priority Alpha One was reserved for either overriding orders or ‘your position is about to come under attack’. Since Avalon was in FTL and untouchable to any force known by man, it could only be the former.
The specific exclusion of Vice Admiral Dimitri Tobin from a message being sent to the Captain of the ship could only mean one thing: Admiral Meredith Blake had almost certainly learned that Avalon had left the Alizon system.
The admittance chime to his office sounded, and Dimitri froze like a panicked animal, his stare switching back and forth between the screen with its ominous warning and the door.
When the chime sounded again, he forced himself to calm down and hit the button dropping the message back into the buffer. He couldn’t delete an Alpha One message – but he could make sure no one saw it until it was far too late.
“Enter,” he ordered.
Senior Fleet Commander Judy Sanchez stepped through the door, the blond woman blinking in the dim light.
“Sir, we have a problem,” she said bluntly as soon as the door closed behind her.
“Between the spy aboard, the mass murderer we’re chasing, the system we just liberated, and the whole god-damn war, which exact problem do you mean?” he snapped.
“How about a new one?” Sanchez replied. “One where your flag captain is having paranoid delusions?”
Dimitri sighed. He knew his Chief of Staff didn’t like Roberts, but the depths she seemed willing to plumb to try to discredit the man were starting to grate. If anyone on this ship had mental issues right now, it was probably Dimitri himself. He wasn’t entirely sure.
“Commander, do you have any basis for this?” he asked bluntly. “You have spent far too much of your time since you arrived aboard this ship trying to denigrate Captain Roberts. Would you care to explain where this latest notion came from?”
“Sir, I have made no secret of my opinion of Captain Roberts,” she said flatly. “But he’s placed armed guards on the bridge and engineering. I was actively denied entrance to engineering by these guards.”
“Commander, you do realize there is a spy aboard?” Dimitri reminded her. “I’m surprised we haven’t had guards around the ship already – certainly that’s entirely within Captain Roberts’ discretion given the situation.