Rumors of Glory (The System States Rebellion Book 1)

by Dietmar Wehr

  “Tracking indicates that second vessel moved in front of target. Missile terminal guidance did not have enough time to maneuver around it,” said the electronic voice.

  Son of a bitch! That squadron commander ordered his other two ships to maneuver in order to take the hits meant for him! Drake waited to see whether his second and third volleys would still go after their assigned targets or go after the leader. Either alternative was possible. The missiles had been aimed at a point in space where the targeted ships should be IF they continued to accelerate in the same direction, but the number two and number three ships were no longer accelerating at their maximum rate of 7.7Gs. One was down to only 3.1Gs, and the other was down to 4.4Gs. Both ships had obviously suffered damage to their maneuvering engines. That meant that they wouldn’t be at the interception point by the time the second and third waves got there. Those missiles would turn on their own terminal guidance radars during the last few seconds of flight, and those radars would see no target at the anticipated location and three possible targets at other locations. Drake wasn’t familiar enough with the guidance system’s programming algorithms to know which new target they would select. And since Boomer’s second and third waves were coming in on a different angle from his, it was entirely possible that all the missiles from both waves and both boats might just converge on the leader.

  That didn’t happen. Both of his waves hit one of the damaged ships, and both of Boomer’s waves hit the other damaged ship again. The two ships immediately stopped accelerating.

  “Comp, did the two damaged ships position themselves in our missiles’ path again?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Drake banged his fist against this chair’s armrest in frustration. The lead ship now had a good chance of getting away if Boomer’s KEs didn’t damage its power plant or hyperdrive. If the lead ship continued to accelerate in the same direction, there was a possibility that all 15 of Boomer’s KEs would retarget against it, but after a couple of minutes, it became obvious that the lead ship had changed direction. It was trying to maneuver so that one of the two damaged ships would be in the path of at least one and maybe even two of Boomer’s missile volleys as they tried to adjust their trajectories to hit a target that was no longer where it was supposed to be.

  Drake had to give that FED Commander credit. He or she was good, very good in fact, but also ruthless to a degree that made Drake shake his head in dismay. Deliberately sacrificing two thirds of his or her command in order to getaway was a decision that Drake could not have made.

  Before Boomer’s KE missiles reached their targets, that incoming wave of 30 FED missiles reached the 101 boat. The com channel between the boats was still open. Drake heard Boomer warn her crew of the impending hits, followed by a rapid series of bangs that reminded Drake of a string of firecrackers going off, only much louder. He thought he heard Boomer yell out ‘son-of-a-bitch!’ but wasn’t sure. The tactical display showed that her missile boat was still accelerating with no obvious damage.

  “Are you okay, Boomer?” asked Drake.

  “Yeah, we’re okay. None of the impacting warheads broke through the armor, but the sound and the vibration was scary as hell! But now it’ll be our turn again in a few seconds.”

  The maneuver by the lead ship to avoid some of Boomer’s missiles worked. Only the first volley was able to stay locked on to its intended target. The other 10 KEs shifted to one of the coasting wrecks. God help anyone left alive on it, thought Drake when those missiles passed through what was left of the outer hull and ripped through the vulnerable interior spaces.

  Whatever damage the first five did, did not prevent that lead ship from entering hyperspace as soon as it crossed the hyper-zone boundary.

  It took almost two days for rescue shuttles to dock with the coasting wrecks. The one hit by the 10 KE missiles was so badly torn up that the rescue shuttle couldn’t dock at all. The other shuttle found half a dozen injured survivors on the other wreck. Engineers sent along determined that neither ship was worth trying to salvage, but at least they were able to download data from the least damaged ship.

  The casualties at the spaceport were equally grim. All six security guards had been killed, along with three others, and almost two dozen had been injured from flying shrapnel. The media promoted the battle as a major victory. Drake knew better. Yes, it was a victory, but he was certain it would pale in comparison with battles yet to come.

  Chapter Six

  Day 297/2539

  When the 102 boat landed and powered down, Drake and his tired crew were transported to the main building at the navy spaceport. The debriefing went quickly, but it was dark by the time he and his crew were free to go their own ways for their scheduled seven day rest period. As Drake headed for the exit, a Lieutenant wearing the armband of naval security came up to him and handed him a note.

  After reading it, Drake said, “You have GOT to be kidding.” The Lieutenant shook his head.

  “No kidding, sir. Her identity’s been confirmed.”

  Drake sighed and handed the note back. “Okay, Lieutenant, lead the way.”

  He followed the junior officer down into sections of the naval building that he hadn’t known existed. The security in this section was very tight. When the Lieutenant led him into a room, he saw a bank of video screens, some consoles and a desk with a naval security Commander sitting behind it.

  “You’re Roland Drake?” asked the Commander.

  “That’s right.”

  The Commander looked at Drake with suspicious eyes. “Why does this prisoner ask for you by name? Does she know you personally?”

  Drake nodded. “We were at the Academy together. We ah…were quite close for a while, if you know what I mean.”

  The Commander snorted. “You mean you were fucking her.” It wasn’t a question.

  Drake was tempted to explain that there’d been more to it than mere sex but then decided it was none of this belligerent security puke’s business, so all he said was, “Yeah.”

  The Commander laughed in a nasty kind of way. “Okay, well, we normally don’t pay any attention to prisoner’s wishes, but my superior thinks that she might reveal some interesting information if we let you talk with her. So go ahead and talk, and we’ll be listening in. Lieutenant, take Commander Drake to interview room A1.”

  Drake followed the officer to a lower level, where there was a small, windowless room, with a table and four chairs, all bolted to the floor.

  “Have a seat, Commander. We’ll bring the prisoner here shortly,” said the Lieutenant.

  Drake sat down and looked around. There were no obvious signs of surveillance, but he was sure someone was watching and listening. After a short while, the metal door opened again, and she came in. Her hands were secured to a security belt that had been added to the flight suit, which had her Federation Navy insignia and her name tag. Lt. Lorelei Remington.

  Drake looked at her face carefully to see if there were any obvious signs of physical abuse, but he saw none. She stood there just inside the room as the door closed behind her. Her face had the same blank expression that he’d seen her use many times in poker games at the Academy. Whatever she was feeling was being held back.

  “Are you going to sit down, Lor?” asked Drake. After a slight hesitation, she sat down opposite him, put her hands on the table and leaned forward.

  “I didn’t know if they’d let me see you,” she said in a carefully controlled voice.

  He said nothing and waited.

  “I see that you’ve joined the rebellion, and you’re a Commander now. I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said.

  Her tone was not quite so controlled anymore. He thought he detected an overtone of accusation in it, or was that just his imagination? Just a few months ago he’d been a lieutenant, like her, but promotion was fast in the SSU.

  “The SSU Navy is expanding fast, Lor. I was hoping that maybe you’d resign from the FED and join us.”

  “I take m
y oath to the Federation seriously, Roland.”

  There definitely was accusation in that tone. Drake sighed. They were sliding down the path that he had dreaded. “My loyalties have always been to my home planet, Lor. I was born here on Sparta. So were you. My family is here. Did you really think I’d fight against my family? Don’t you know me better than that?” When she didn’t respond he said, “Why did you volunteer for this mission, Lor? My God! You tried to kill our Chancellor! He’s not just the leader of the SSU, he’s also the President of your home planet.”

  “I wanted to see you again to find out which side you were on, Roland.”

  “So you were willing to kill the Chancellor just to see me one more time? Do you really expect me to believe that, Lor?”

  She nodded. “The guards tell me that the Chancellor was injured but not seriously. He was most of the way inside the armored limousine with one of his guards between him and the shuttle. Tell me something, Roland. If the shuttle had exploded two seconds sooner, do you think the Chancellor would still be alive?”

  Drake replayed those terrible few seconds in his mind. Two seconds before the blast, the Chancellor was still standing between the two rows of security people, with nothing between him and the shuttle.

  “No. He’d be dead. What of it?”

  “I was told to set the timer for six seconds. I actually chose eight. My escape pod could have avoided most of the blast with a six-second lead and I would still have survived. Check the video if you don’t believe me. Your Chancellor’s alive because of me, Roland.”

  Drake did believe her. Lorelei Remington was good at a lot of things, but lying wasn’t one of them. She had correctly figured out how to maximize her chances of keeping some kind of relationship with him. There was no way for her to know which side he was on before the mission. If Drake had stayed loyal to the Federation, they’d both be prisoners and maybe be able to be together. Since he had gone over to the opposition, she had given herself enough credibility in his eyes to prevent a total break, but that didn’t alter the fact that she was a prisoner of war, and he was on the other side of the war.

  He nodded and smiled at her. He wanted to tell her that he still had feelings for her, but he didn’t want that Security Commander hearing them. She responded with a small smile of her own that told him she understood.

  “They’re listening to this aren’t they?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So I guess I have to be careful what I say to you, and you have to be careful what you say to me,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  She nodded ever so slightly. The security people would think she was referring to military secrets, but Drake knew she was referring to personal secrets. “Then there’s nothing more to say for now, Roland. Whatever we might want to say will just have to wait for this war to be over.”

  Drake nodded again. “Until then.” He got up and walked over to the door.

  Before he got there, she said, “They didn’t tell me what happened in space after the explosion. Did Stacker get away okay?” Drake kept his face turned away from her and from the surveillance to hide his smile. Under the guise of an innocent question, she had just revealed the name of the officer in charge of the FED mission. It was for his benefit. However limited it might be, he could now claim credit for getting something useful out of her that might make it easier for him to visit her again.

  “Yes, his ship got away. The other two didn’t.” When it was clear that she wasn’t going to say more, he knocked on the door and the guard outside let him out

  The Security Commander looked disgusted when Drake re-entered his office. “That’s it? You talked with her for two seconds and you got nothing out of her!”

  “Not true. She revealed the name of the FED officer in command of the mission. Stacker. Commodore Stacker last I heard.”

  “So you got one lousy name. I knew this would be a waste of time.”

  Drake put his hands on his hips and gave the Commander a stern look. “Just how much secret intel do you think she knows? She’s only a lieutenant for God’s sakes! Do you think they’d pump her full of sensitive information and then send her on a mission where she’s sure to be captured? Use your head.”

  The security commander’s expression showed that he didn’t like being spoken to like that, but he and Drake were the same rank, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “You two have a history together. Maybe you still feel something for her. If you care about what happens to her here, you might want to be more careful about what you say to me, Commander.”

  Drake kept his face blank while he evaluated what kind of response he should make. The security commander struck him as having a nasty streak that far too many guards develop with regards to their prisoners. Giving in to his threat wouldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t mistreat Lor anyway. If the security commander wanted to play rough, then Drake could play rough too. He slowly walked over to the desk, put his hands on the desk and learned over it as far as he could.

  “Listen to this carefully, Commander. I’m one of two officers commanding a missile boat. I speak with Chief of Space Operations Admiral Janicot just about every day. If I even suspect that you or your people are mistreating Lieutenant Remington, or any other FED prisoner, the CSO’s going to hear about it. How often do you talk with Admiral Janicot, Commander?” The security officer’s face lost all its color. Drake could see fear in his eyes.

  “I’m just trying to do my job,” he said in a low voice.

  Drake decided to throw him a bone. “I know you are, and I know you won’t do anything to bring discredit to that uniform. I think we have an understanding then, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Good. I’ll be back every now and then to visit with Lieutenant Remington. I’ll see you then, Commander.” Without waiting for a reply, Drake turned and walked out.

  * * *

  Belloc grimaced with pain as he slowly sat down in the padded chair at the head of the conference table. The broken arm he suffered when the shuttle blast overturned his limo with him bouncing around inside was not the cause of the pain. That was caused by the wounds on his back from the shrapnel that flew through the open door before the vehicle tipped over.

  “I’ve called this meeting of the SSU Cabinet to discuss one and only one topic. Now that the FEDs have thrown down the gauntlet, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t strike back. How and when is what we’re here to discuss.”

  Belloc’s voice had a harder edge to it than usual, thought Sorensen. Whether from anger or stress caused by the pain she had no idea. When Belloc turned to look at her, she knew it was going to be her turn at bat first.

  “Okay, Mandy. What can you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry to say that our options at this point are limited. While it’s true that four FED cruisers have been captured, they’re still scattered over several hundred light years, and it’ll take time to get them all here in order to execute a coordinated attack. In terms of what we could use them against, my staff has assumed that we’re not yet prepared to escalate this war to the point of attacking civilians.” She paused to see if Belloc either confirmed or denied that assumption. He nodded. Good. If he was ready to go that far, she was prepared to resign in protest. “With civilian targets off the list, the military targets that are defended lightly enough to minimize our own casualties are few. It’s my staff’s opinion, which I share, that the best target in terms of vulnerability AND impact on the FEDs is their Navy base orbiting around Xanadu. Its strategic location and repair and maintenance capability make it very valuable to the FEDs, and because it’s not on a planet or moon, it’s vulnerable to a high speed fly-by missile strike.” She paused to let that information sink in before continuing.

  “The size of our strike force depends on how quickly our cruisers can get here. We can launch a strike with two ships within four weeks. That would be risky. If we want to use three cruisers, we’ll have to wait seven weeks, and all f
our will take 13 weeks. After careful consideration, I’m recommending waiting the seven weeks and going with the three-ship strike.”

  Belloc nodded. “Thank you, Mandy. Everyone here will get a chance to comment on this proposal, and then I’ll make a decision. Frank? How about you go next?”

  “Thank you, Chancellor. I thought our first priority for our captured cruisers was to capture freighters, not engage in tit for tat. We need those freighters badly. I can’t emphasize that enough. Even if we start right now, it’ll take time to find them, capture them, bring them back and then start using them. In the meantime, inter-planetary trade between members of the SSU will be dropping. How low it drops and for how long depends on how quickly we get our own freighters going. I have a question for Defense Secretary Sorensen. Will taking out the navy space station at Xanadu win the war?”

  Sorensen looked at Belloc and saw him shrug. She looked back at Shaw and said, “No, that by itself won’t win the war.”