Blair looked at him, recalling the turbulent years he'd known Tolwyn. The man could be a cold, calculating bastard. Blair had hated him once, before he'd learned how difficult a mistress duty could be. Tolwyn had the toughest burden of all, and while Blair couldn't say he liked the man, he did respect him. There was the other side of him as well that still seemed to shine somewhere below the surface… the hero who had saved Earth in the darkest moment of the war, the man who had risked his career to bring Tarawa out after the raid on Kilrah, motivated by loyalty to the brave men and women of that famous ship. Blair had even heard how Tolwyn had broken down and wept when his nephew Kevin, who had been reported missing during the Battle of Earth, was recovered and brought safely in.
There was that part of Tolwyn that confused him now, a man who in so many ways represented the highest ideals of the Fleet, and yet now was something else.
"What would happen to the Intrepid?" he asked.
"We'd put her on the front lines, right where you are now. We'd hunt down the real perpetrators. Together."
Blair sat back, sorely tempted by Tolwyn's offer. Could he really deliver on his promise? "The others, Maniac and Eisen, will they be granted amnesty, too?"
"Well," Tolwyn temporized, "I'm certain their years of honorable service would be factored in…"
Blair nodded. If Tolwyn had said anything else he would have known the Admiral lied.
He thought back to Paulson… and Seether.
"Sorry, Admiral, I can't," he said. "It's like Ben Franklin said, back when the Americans revolted. It was something like: Well, now we all need to hang together, for if we don't, we shall surely hang separately.' " He shook his head regretfully. "I've seen too many things that suggest that there are elements in the Confederation that are driving this. If I—we—came back, we wouldn't know who our allies were. I at least know what side I'm on out here."
Tolwyn's expression grew pained. "I'm sorry, son. I'm not sure I'll be able to help you after this, not if you keep to this course. The Senate intends war, and soon. I'd hoped to take something back with me that would forestall them, but so far I haven't found it."
Blair shook his head. "I'll make you a deal, Admiral.
I'll keep working on the problem from this end, while you tackle it from yours. Maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle?"
Tolwyn stood. "I'd like that, Chris. Am I free to go?"
"Yes, sir," Blair said, also standing. He holstered his pistol. "I've only got one name so far, one name that keeps cropping up. His name is Seether. I've got witnesses that place him with the raiders, and I saw him on the Lexington. He took over a project Paulson claimed was working directly for you."
Tolwyn's face might have been carved in stone for all the response he showed. "Seether?"
Blair looked at him. "Yes, do you know him?"
"Well," Tolwyn answered, "he was part of some secret experiments that were going on near the war's end. Special Ops had gotten pretty much out of control by that point. They kept cooking up wonder weapon after wonder weapon and soaking up more and more money. This thing Seether was involved with was more of the same, another whiz-bang that was supposed to save us from certain doom. We were desperate and grasping at straws." He face grew sour. "Sort of like the Behemoth. And to think I bought into that."
Blair nodded in sympathy, recalling its disastrous loss and the damage it had done to Tolwyn's reputation.
Tolwyn looked sharply at him. "But don't forget the Excaliburs and Paladins little bomb also came out of that same special operations budget. So it wasn't all bad."
Blair nodded. "What kind of program was Seether in?"
Tolwyn glanced at him. "Those programs were tightly compartmented, very strictly need to know. I didn't get the full brief until after the war, when I took over SRA." He rubbed his jaw. "As I recall, it was a little number called GE, short for genetic enhancement. It was some kind of selective breeding program, or eugenics. I'm not certain on the details."
Blair told him about his encounters with Seether's pilots and Bean's descriptions. "Was there cloning?"
"No," Tolwyn answered, "at least not so far as I know. I'm told they never mastered the technology." He furrowed his brow, trying to recall the dusty memory. "I think they'd worked out what they called 'optimal templates.' " He looked troubled. "There shouldn't be that many GEs running around. I was told that the program had been pulled up by its roots."
Blair looked at him, perplexed. "You were told? How many more of these Special Ops projects are lurking out there that you haven't been told about?"
Tolwyn looked a little sheepish. "A lot of these things are buried deep. The problem is, how do you shut down programs hardly anyone even knows about? If you can tell me, I'd do it." Blair studied his face. Tolwyn looked sincere. Blair saw he had no other choice but to take Tolwyn at face value. He sure as hell wasn't going to take him prisoner. He held out his hand. "I'm sorry I shanghaied you, Admiral."
"Hell, son, I'm not," Tolwyn replied. "Now at least I've got some kind of handle on what's going on. That's more than I had before." He took Blair's hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "You take care of yourself, son, and try not to let your people do anything that makes things worse."
"I can't promise that, Admiral," Blair replied. "It looks to me like the folks driving this are on your side."
"If that's true," Tolwyn said grimly, as he guided Blair back to the airlock, "then there'll be hell to pay"
Blair stopped. "What is that smell?"
"Smell?" Tolwyn replied.
"Yeah, it smells like blood back here."
Tolwyn sniffed. "I don't smell anything. Perhaps it's something in the filters." He indicated the airlock.
Blair passed through, then stood on the deck as Tolwyn turned the shuttle and departed out the back of the flight deck.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Dekker said, as he stepped up beside Blair. He took a long look at Blair's thoughtful expression and added a belated "sir."
"It seemed the thing to do at the time," Blair answered. "It certainly was a better option than holding the chief of the SRA. Things're bad enough with Earth without adding that provocation."
Dekker shook his head. "Well, I think you'll live to regret this decision."
Blair turned towards him. "Probably."
He stood on the flight deck, thinking about Tolwyn's offer, until all of Marshall's strike ships landed. He greeted each pilot in turn, thanking them for a job well done. He stayed until the last fighter had either bieen stowed below for maintenance or was spotted forward for relaunch.
His comm-link buzzed. He undipped it and spoke into it absently, "Yes?"
"Lieutenant Sosa's compliments, sir," the comm tech said, "but we've got new orders. She forwarded them to your quarters, sir."
"Thank you," he answered and signed off.
He made the long, slow climb back up to the CIC, then turned towards his quarters. He was a little surprised to see his door open. He peered in and saw Sosa leaning over his desk, loading a chip into the message reader. She had changed out of uniform and was wearing a loose white frock and rust-colored skirt. He could see a hint of cleavage from his vantage point. She absently tucked her loose, shoulder-length black hair behind her ear as she worked, seemingly unaware he watched her from the door.
She finally glanced up, did a double take, and slid off the desk. "Sorry, sir. I thought I'd load this for you while you were gone. I didn't expect you to be back."
"So I see," he said, entering his quarters. He left the door behind him open. She stood, looking young and lovely under the room's indirect lighting. Be careful, Chris, he told himself. There's danger that way.
She caught his eye. The silence stretched as he thought of how Jeannette had looked under similar lighting, and Rachel. He knew it wasn't fair to compare Sosa to either of them, yet he couldn't help himself. He wished he was just five years younger and she five older, then it would be all right. As it was they had too many years and too muc
h rank separating them. Still…
Her hand went to her throat. "Is something wrong?" She looked down at herself. "Oh, I was just going off duty… down to the chowhall for dinner. I got tired of wearing my uniform. Captain Eisen permitted civvies for dining." She stopped herself. "I'm babbling. I'd better go." She started to slide past him.
"Please, wait," he said, then found himself casting about for a reason to ask her to stay. He glanced at his worktable and saw the stewards had left a salver on a heating pad, with a thermos of coffee. "I usually dine in my quarters," he said, "but that gets lonely. Would you like to eat with me?" He felt clumsy and oafish as he looked at her, aware that as opening lines went, he was asking to get shot down. "I'm sure there'll be enough for two," he added lamely.
Sosa smiled, showing dimples. "I'd love to, sir."
He stepped to the serving tray and opened it. Aromatic steam poured out. His mouth watered as he saw the slabs of roast beef, surrounded by carrots and potatoes. "Oh, look," he said, trying to be witty, "roast tire."
She laughed politely as she stepped beside him and took one of the small stack of plates that had collected. "And haunch of vacuum pump," she answered, joining the game. He took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful scent of her perfume. It felt good for her to be there. He suddenly regretted leaving the door open. There would be no scandal if they were seen together, but it would keep him from really relaxing.
They collected their food. Blair sat behind his desk, after making room for her plate. There was only one chair. Velina perched on one corner of the desk, taking dainty bites of beef.
The silence stretched. He was at a loss for words. "Umm," he said, gesturing towards the chip reader with his fork, "have you seen the orders?"
She grinned. "That's a taboo question, Colonel, sir. I'm the comm officer. I see everything that we send and receive. But it's not polite for me to tell the Colonel I know what his orders are before he does."
"Well," Blair replied, "I'm still curious, so if you don't mind…"
"Not at all," she said.
Blair turned the tank around to where she could see it, then hit the play button. The screen darkened to reveal Admiral Wilfords face. Blair noticed his cardigan had changed.
"Colonel Blair, I'd like to offer you my condolences on the loss of your pilots. I read your after-action report." Blair looked up at Sosa, who mouthed the word "Garibaldi." He pursed his lips. The Intrepid's exec was just a little too efficient. He understood now why Eisen insisted on initialing all outgoing reports. It might be a good practice for him to emulate.
He turned his attention back to Wilford. "We're sending you to Speradon system on a high-priority mission. The Confederation has established a forward base inside our territory. Admiral Richards believes this base includes a shipyard and is intended to be part of their mobilization against us. Our data suggests the base is vulnerable, if we act fast." He looked down at his notes. "Your mission will be in the Speradon system as part of a smash-and-grab operation on the shipyard. Our goals'll be two-fold. First, we'll go for proof that the Confed is operating inside Border Worlds' space. And second—we'll carry off as much equipment as we can. We need the hardware.
"I'm sending a separate package to Colonel Farnsworth so she can begin detailed planning for the operation. In the meantime, you'll link up with us here in the Lennox system. There'll be transports there, so you'll have a partial resupply, and tankers, so you can top off." He paused. "I'll be shifting my flag to your ship, so make sure Panther and her staff are ready with at least a preliminary plan by the time I get there. Godspeed, Blair. I'm looking forward to meeting you."
He cued the 'tank off, before it broke to static. He looked at Sosa. "Did Panther get her stuff?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. "About an hour ago, in fact."
He rolled his eyes. "Am I the last to know everything on this ship?"
Sosa smiled, but maintained a discreet silence. Blair decided he liked her smile. It transformed her face, making her look radiant. He found himself making excuses to extend their evening by asking questions about the ship, the crew, and her time on Admiral Richards' staff. And because turnabout was fair play, he answered a few of hers. It wasn't until much later in the evening, as he was pouring his heart out to her about his losing Rachel, that he realized how dangerous it was to start a personal conversation with an interrogator.
Chapter Ten
Blair, along with Admiral Wilfords staff and the task forces command officers, sat waiting for the admiral to arrive. It was Wilfords prerogative to be late and the briefing couldn't start till he showed. In the meantime, they sat, cooling their heels. That was how the military food chain worked.
The arrival of the admiral and his staffhad started another round of musical chairs. The extra officers stressed the Intrepid's limited amenities past the breaking point. Wilford had started the game by displacing him from the quarters he'd inherited from Eisen. He had, in turn, bumped Garibaldi from his even smaller cubicle. The exec had bunked in with the senior engineer, pushing her deputy out.
He had no doubt that at least one officer would be sleeping with the pilots or the ratings on the flight deck, or, worse yet, with the grunts in the forward hold. Dekker's troops were an earthy bunch, whose senses of humor were likely to be a bit rough-hewn. He could only imagine the torments they'd inflict on a Fleetie assigned to bunk in with them. He hoped the unknown unfortunate had a thick hide.
The room came to attention. Wilford swept in and took his seat. Panther, taking her cue from the admiral, stood and began. Tamara, he had learned, liked things done right, on time, and with no nonsense, and she was doubtless displeased she'd been kept waiting, even by a senior. Wilford was a special case, though. He had a reputation for adopting and nurturing promising young officers, and Tamara Farnsworth wanted to go far. This briefing was her big chance.
"Vice Admiral Wilford," she said without preamble, nodding to the man seated in the chair, "will command the fleet against the covert Confederation shipyard located here, in the Speradon system." The graphic behind her changed, showing a large, egg-shaped gas and dust cloud. Several protostars illuminated it from the inside, giving it a reddish-yellow glow. "The base," she continued, "is concealed within the nebulas electronic interference zone. The interference is due to the passage of the stars' charged particles through the nebular dust."
She paused while the screen behind her split into three images. "There are actually three distinct targets within the shipyard. These are the shipyard itself, a shake-down area for new fighters, and a weapons factory. Our intention is to raid all three targets, plunder what we can, and destroy what's left. We'll do this as close to simultaneously as we can manage."
She smiled, waiting for the explosion that had to come. "All three!" Maniacs bray rose above the others'. "At once?"
"At once," she repeated: "We looked at hitting the targets in sequence, but it just wasn't practicable. We'll lose the element of surprise once we hit the first objective. By the time we hit the second they'll have withdrawn the juicy parts, and stacked the defenses." She turned towards the screen. "Frankly, these targets are so lucrative that it's worth the risk.
"The timing won't have to be that fine, not if we can hit all three within an hour or so. Also, none of the missions are time dependent on the others. When you're done, you go home."
She smiled. "Here's where it gets complicated." She tapped the lectern, which appeared to Blair to be the signal to change the graphic. "The first target will be flown by Colonel Marshall's squadron. It's a staging area for fighters awaiting shakedown. They mass here, then begin their test runs. This is an ideal time to grab their newest birds, fresh off the line.
"Maniac, you'll also be escorting the BWS Tango. She's a fast transport with four tractor beams rigged behind her main cargo bay. Once you've cleaned out the defenses, you'll go after the fighters. Your ships will be equipped with a new weapon, what the eggheads are calling a leech gun.' Basically, it drains their power,
scrambles their systems, and leaves them dead tor a time. You'll use the guns to sweep the area and zap any fighters you can. The Tango'll then make a passthrough and rake in everything she can carry. Once she's loaded, or things get too hot, you'll smoke whatever's left and bug out."
The wall screen behind her changed, showing what appeared to an orbital factory. "Hawk, your mission is the simplest. Your squadron'll escort the Longbow and Broadsword bombers from Admiral Wilfords two escort carriers and destroy the factory. No subtlety. Just kill it. You can expect there to be substantial local defenses. We're told that most of the system's reserve forces are stationed there."
She tapped the third objective. "And this, Colonel Blair, is your target, the TCS Princeton" The wall screen shifted again, showing a new Concordia-class fleet carrier surrounded by a spidery-looking space dock. "It's the centerpiece of the raid."
"Me?" Blair said.
Admiral Wilford turned in his seat to look at him. "You, Colonel Blair. I'm sure Commander Garibaldi and I can somehow manage to keep this old girl in space while you're gone. We need our best where they can do their best."
"I'm to kill her?" Blair asked, making notes on his pad.
"No," Farnsworth replied, "you're to capture her."
The silence in the room was deafening. "You must be joking," Blair said after a long moment.
"No," Panther replied, "her reactors are on line. She's poorly guarded, most of her crew's on shore leave. All of her stores are intact, and as far as we know, she's carrying a full load of ordnance and fighters. She's ripe for picking. We expect you to have light resistance."
Blair glanced at Maniac, who rolled his eyes. They had both heard that promise far too many times for either to believe it.
Farnsworth quickly shifted graphics again, before Blair could protest. "You'll hit her with light weapons, just enough to skin her turrets. Once you've done that, Colonel Dekker's Marines will do an assault landing and secure a landing bay. Sosa's been working on descrambling the phase shield codes. Dekker, you should be able to punch the code and waltz right in."
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