Only the Brave

by Richard Tongue

   As they’d grown closer to the enemy, the data had streamed in, more and more, the Guilder formation tight and sound, the enemy commander certainly competent. No political appointee would have been given a fleet of this size. That the Guild was in the same desperate position as her task force gave her hope. They had to have been pushed to the limit to assemble a force of this size, and they were taking as significant a risk as she was, committing such forces to battle.

   They’d known all along that they couldn’t win a war of attrition, that the Guild held all the advantages if it came to a prolonged conflict. From the first, they’d sought a way to bring the war to an end in one glorious moment, using some stratagem, some devious trick. They’d found it, found their opportunity, and she didn’t have the first idea what to do with it. Up above her, in the training rooms, the fighter pilots were working on battle plans and fighting their way through simulations, but they hadn’t come up with a strategy yet that didn’t wipe out the bulk of the squadron, destroying Lincoln in the bargain.

   And as strange as it sounded, that didn’t matter. They had to win the war. Her fighters, Lincoln herself, were expendable, if their sacrifice achieved the desired goal. Something else to hang onto, out here in the dark. The ship shuddered again, engines briefly deepening in tone, Merritt struggling to compensate for another gravitational shift. It was a strange system for a battle, and her thoughts were constantly drawn to the strange singularity at the heart of the star, slowly tearing it to pieces, throwing off waves of exotic gasses as compensation for the billions of years of life it was robbing. Their best guesses suggested that it would be tens of thousands of years before the black hole was large enough to form a real hazard, but having already traveled five centuries in time, she found herself holding a different perspective on the true nature of the future. As though she truly believed that she might somehow see it, endless years away.

   “A credit for your thoughts, Captain?” Alex Valdez, the Ship’s Chaplain, said, walking towards her. “I thought I’d find you down here.”

   “I needed some time to think.”

   “Alone?” Valdez replied. “Bad idea. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to keep the crew from thinking too deeply about their current situation, and it would be wise for you to follow your own advice on this issue.” Cracking a smile, he added, “Which means that we’re going to talk. Because whether you realize it or not, whether you like it or not, you need to talk to someone right now. Someone you know won’t pass on your thoughts to the crew.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t expect I’ll be good company.”

   “You think you’re going to die, and you’ve resigned yourself to that,” Valdez pressed. “You think that there is a way to win this battle, or at least to do sufficient damage to prevent the enemy fleet from launching its attack on Zemlya, but you believe that the price will be the destruction of this ship. Probably with all hands. Would my assessment be correct?”

   “I’m afraid so. We’ll go in with everything we have, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough. I’m pretty sure that we can fight our way into the heart of the enemy formation, but I am far less sanguine that we’ll be able to fight our way out of it again. Not without taking far too much damage. If we could have concentrated the whole fleet, we might have had a chance.” She paused, then added, “No, not even then.”

   “Suicide is a mortal sin.” At her expression, he added, “And in this context, did you stop to think that there might be a good reason for that. Anyone can die for their cause. It’s not hard for a soldier to find a bullet in the middle of a battle, if he really wants to. If he really expects to. You’ve got to work out a way to win without it.”

   “Isn’t it better to accept reality, to accept the price that we’re going to pay, and make sure that we collect on the deal?” Walking to a wall monitor, she brought up the latest projections of the enemy fleet, and added, “If I commit to a full attack, commit with no realistic regard for getting out the other side, then we can throw our entire battle strength at the enemy. Lincoln’s defensive turrets can still inflict a lot of damage at close range, I mean, really close range.”

   “Based on that logic, you should strip the missiles from the fighters and pack the nosecones with explosives, instructing the pilots to choose the highest-value target they can.”

   “It might come to that,” Forrest said. “It just might come to that.”

   “And probably the pilots of your squadron would volunteer to a man, even knowing they were flying to their deaths. Certainly the Japanese had no trouble finding recruits for their kamikaze squadrons, during the Second World War.” He paused, then added, “A war they lost.”

   “They were outmatched, outgunned. They never had a chance.”

   “And they resorted to desperation in an attempt to turn the tide,” he replied. “Are we at that stage, right now? In a tactical situation where we have no realistic chance of victory, and are forced to resort to measures of final desperation? If that’s the case, Captain, then make peace. Now. Call the Guild commander and see if we can get some sort of terms. Putting their task force together was difficult, and must have been opposed by some factions of their government.”

   “You think we could trust them?”

   He paused, sighed, and said, “Captain, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re looking for your bullet, and that the crew is following your lead. I’ve spoken to a lot of people in the last few hours, and while my oaths naturally prevent me from sharing any details, I can certainly tell you that most of them don’t expect to see another dawn. Why should they? Their commanding officer certainly isn’t, and no matter how much you try to hide it, they can see right through you. Most of them have known you long enough for that.”

   “Is there any harm in that, though?” Forrest asked. “Shouldn’t they know that they’re about to meet their maker, about to meet their end. Maybe they can face it a little better that way. What’s that old quote about there being nothing more comforting than to know that you are being hanged in the morning?”

   “Samuel Johnson,” Valdez replied. “Who as I recall, died in his bed. Evidently he was less than eager to take his own advice.” He looked at the display, and said, “Don’t give up the ship. That’s a better saying to take into this battle, Captain. If people think that they are going to die, if they are convinced of it, then they stop looking for ways to live. They lose their edge, the critical advantage that just might win this fight. Somewhere in that mess of data is the answer you’ve been looking for. Or some unknown factor will creep in, giving you a chance to pull off the victory we need.”

   “An unknown factor?”

   “Anything could be waiting out there. A sudden gravitational shift at the right moment, the enemy commander making a mistake, one of the fighters getting a lucky shot. Right now, you might miss it. You’ve got to go into this battle knowing that you can see the end of it, knowing that you can win. You think the Guild will go to the peace table if we sacrifice ourselves to take out this fleet? If we manage to live through this, then imagine the deal we’ll get.”

   “I just don’t see it.” Shaking her head, she said, “I just don’t see it.”

   “Then turn over the ship to Commander Kirkland, and confine yourself to quarters.” At her expression, he said, “I mean it, ma’am. Right now you are in no state to fight a battle, no state to command a ship, and if you continue on your current course, we’re going to lose. You need to get this crew back into the fight. They can’t go to war with resignation. They can’t accept their death. They have to fight to live, and unless you can do that, they won’t.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “Where did you pick up all this stuff? They teach combat tactics at seminary?”

   “Too many John Wayne films when I was a kid. None of which changes my essential point. You know I’m right, Captain. Deep down inside, you know I’m talking sense. You’ve got to h
ave faith. In yourself, in your cause, in your skills. In your crew. They deserve a fighting chance. Your job is to give it to them. And you won’t do that hiding down here in the sensor decks.” Gesturing to the nearest elevator, he said, “Go to the enlisted mess, get something to eat. You need the fuel anyway, and you need to talk to them. Then walk the active decks, talk to the turret crews, the damage control teams. Maybe if you can put some fire in their bellies you’ll find it in yourself.”

   “Maybe I should turn command over to you.”

   “If I end up in command of anything, then we really are in trouble,” he replied with a smile. “Now come along.”

   “Attention,” a voice said, crackling over the speakers. “Could Captain Forrest contact the bridge on the double, secure channel.”

   Walking over to a communications panel, she tapped the control, and said, “Forrest here. Go ahead.”

   “Fox here, Captain. We’re getting some interesting activity from the fleet. They seem to be changing their current posture. I think they’re moving into formation to depart. Communications chatter has doubled in the last few minutes, and they’ve put the station on general alert.”

   “Have they detected us?” Forrest asked.

   “I don’t think so, ma’am. Their formation doesn’t indicate that. I’d say something’s happened on the station itself. Maybe a worker revolt, maybe something else. We might have found our window of opportunity.”

   “An unknown factor,” Forrest said. “All decks, battle stations. Prepare for a full-speed course towards the enemy fleet. We’re going in.” Turning to Valdez, she added, “That walkabout will have to wait until after the battle.”

   “That’s more like it,” he replied. “Good hunting, ma’am.”

   “Valdez,” she said, pausing on her way to the elevator. “Thanks. For giving me the kick up the backside I needed.”

   “All part of the service, ma’am. All part of the service.”

  Chapter 19

   “This way,” Romano said, running down a side corridor. “We’ve got to move quickly.”

   “We need,” Xiang replied, “to be heading back down to the lower levels. I don’t care how many people they intend to send to search, it’s large enough that we can still hide out for days. Maybe weeks. Long enough for help to arrive.”

   “I will not leave my friend to die,” Romano said, sliding around a corner. “You go if you want. I won’t stop you.”

   “As I have repeatedly stated, I do not trust you, Lieutenant, and I will not let you out of my sight. If that requires me to follow you to your death, I suppose that is how it must be.” Glancing behind him, he added, “This plan does have the virtue that our opponents would never consider that we would be foolish enough to attempt it. I suppose I must admit to that.”

   “You see,” Romano replied, a smile struggling to his face. “A tactical masterstroke.”

   “I would not go that far.” Coming to a halt, he said, “We’re almost there. Do you have a plan, or are we going to have to improvise once more?”

   “It’s worked well enough for us up till now, but this time, I know what I’m doing.” Passing Xiang his pistol, he said, “Cover me, and take the shot when you get a chance.” Taking a deep breath, he walked around the corridor, the guard standing outside Tanaka’s cell instantly responding, aiming his rifle at Romano’s chest.

   “Freeze,” he said. “Very good of you to voluntarily turn yourself in, Lieutenant. Commander Narik will be pleased.”

   “I thought it was Commander Zani?” Romano replied.

   “There have been a few recent changes. Nothing that need concern you.” With a leering smile, he added, “Any last words?”

   “What’s that on your shoulder?”

   The guard’s attention was stolen for a heartbeat, his eyes dancing to the side, but that was enough. Xiang took his shot, the crack of the bullet placed precisely between the eyes of the guard, and Romano dived to the deck just in time to avoid the salvo of gunfire the dying Guilder released in response, tearing a succession of angry black gashes into the wall. He raced forward, watching for any other enemies, the wail of the sirens still filling the air, and reached for the keycard at the dying man’s belt, ripping it clear and slamming it into place to release the security hatch.

   “Frank?” Tanaka said, rising to his feet. “What brings you here?”

   “You’re late for dinner,” Romano replied, snatching the rifle from the dead man’s grip. “All hell is breaking loose, and we’ve got to get moving, right away.”

   “I know,” he said, making his way to the door. “The enemy fleet is here.”

   “I’ve already sent a message to Zemlya. Lincoln will be here soon.”

   Gripping his arm, he said, “Frank, she’s here now. Don’t ask me how. The guard was boasting about it. Apparently she barreled out of the asteroid cloud and is on an intercept course with the fleet.”

   “Then the battle has begun,” Xiang said. “We should free the rest of the prisoners, and attempt to leave the station while we still can. The odds are that this facility will be a prime target for your fleet.”

   “They won’t open fire on the station with us on board,” Tanaka protested.

   “Precisely my point. Do you think they would refrain from using human shields?”

   Turning to Xiang, Romano said, “If Lincoln is here, then...”

   “Agreed,” the PacFed technician replied, pulling out the hacker datapad and splicing it into the wall. He frowned, then said, “I think I can open a channel, but everyone will be able to hear. I can’t engage any encryption, even if your people could translate it at the other end.”

   “Just do what you can,” Romano said.

   “On it,” he replied. “Splicing through. As soon as I connect, they’ll try to knock out this system. Watch the corridor. I’ll keep the channel open as long as I can. Are you ready?”

   “I’m ready,” Romano said. Xiang tapped a control, and he said, “Lieutenant Romano to Lincoln Actual, on unsecured channel. Do you read.” He paused, then said, “Do you read, Lincoln. Respond at once. Time limited.”

   “Actual here,” Forrest replied. “Who taught Aviation History at the Academy?”

   “Nobody,” Romano said. “Professor Miles taught History of Technological Warfare. Did I pass the test?”

   “Well enough. Report status.”

   “Free and on the loose, at least for the moment. That could change at any time. Captain, how the hell did you get here so quickly? I only sent the warning fifteen minutes ago.”

   “What warning?”

   “Captain, I sent a full-power hyperspace transmission to Zemlya, and someone accepted the transmission. If it wasn’t Lincoln...”

   “Interesting,” Forrest said. “Another unknown factor. We’re racking them up today. Lieutenant, under the circumstances, I’m not sure I can give you any specific orders, but anything you can do to cause problems on that station is probably going to be a good thing. I have no ability to launch rescue operations, and there’s nothing we can do to help you. I’m not giving anything away by saying that. Once the battle is over I might be able to do something, but for now, you’re on your own.” She paused, then added, “Hurt them, Lieutenant. Hurt them hard. Out.”

   “At least we know we’ve got somewhere to run to,” Tanaka said. “I suggest we hit the barracks, now, while we can.”

   “I agree,” a new voice said, Zani walking down the corridor with a pair of guards behind her. “My compliments to whoever decided to announce the attempts at my assassination to the world. They certainly caused considerable trouble. The arrival of our war fleet seems to have emboldened those with connections to the hawk faction of my people. Perhaps they believe that nobody will question the death of one more person in the middle of such a monumental battle.” She paused, then asked, “Can Lincoln win?”

   “Hell yes,�
� Tanaka said.

   “I want an honest answer. If there is no chance, then our best hope is to seize one of the Guild warships and escape the system. Even today, there are distant stars, non-aligned worlds that could be a safe haven for us, with a little luck. If your ship can win, then circumstances might force me to consider changing by allegiance.”

   “We have a chance, Commander,” Romano said. “No more than that. Perhaps a better one than we could have hoped for, but I can give you no guarantees.”

   “Judgment call, Lieutenant. What is your instinct?”

   “We’ll win. Though you wouldn’t expect me to say anything other than that, surely.”

   “Perhaps not,” Zani replied. “Nevertheless, your confidence provides me with at least a modicum of comfort. The barracks are under the control of Narik’s men. We’ll have to fight our way through.” Gesturing at her comrades, she added, “You can trust anyone fighting with me.”

   “What sort of numbers are we looking at?” Xiang asked.

   “I have those you see, Narik has at least fifteen, with the balance simply manning their posts and attempting to sit out this fight. I can’t argue with their logic. Were they to choose the wrong side, they’d be executed after the battle. This way, they can escape censure. Though I will not forget those who stood with me. Including you.” Gesturing down the corridor, she added, “If you would be so good as to take point, Lieutenant?”

   “Xiang, take the rear. Watch for any sign of trouble. From any quarter.”

   Xiang nodded, moving to the back of the column, and replied, “I have you covered, Lieutenant. You can trust that someone is watching your back.” He glared at Zani, and added, “It would be as well for us all to remember that we are on the same side. I will make sure that nobody can possibly forget that.”

   “We have moments only, before the battle begins,” Zani said. “And I suspect that Narik will make certain that your comrades are among the casualties.”