by Dani Kollin
When she was done, she realized that there was only one sure way Trang could destroy the capital. He would have to set off an explosion from deep inside the Via Cereana. That would shatter the Alliance capital from the inside. So if Ceres were to survive, it would have to hold the enemy at the gates for eighty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes. J.D. looked at the time display again and swore under her breath that a virus had infected it, making it count time far more slowly than was normal. She had to fight the urge to ask for a data tech to check the system for just such a virus. The crew would assume their admiral was going just a little loopy, and the crew would be right.
But all thoughts of chronological computer viruses fled instantly as one of the dots in the upper right of her field of vision flashed yellow and then red and then was simply gone. She called up the data instantly. It was the AWS Pickax—a ship with a rotten nickname and a hell of a good record. It was a heavy battle cruiser just like the Warprize. And it was gone. Whatever had hit it had practically disintegrated the ship, which had been only two places away from the flagship. Eighty-three hours and fifty-six minutes to go.
UHFS Liddel
Battle of Ceres
Hour 16
“So is she on her way or what?” asked Zenobia.
Even though they were little more than a thousand kilometers apart, the reception from Trang’s ship to Zenobia’s was some of the worst he’d ever seen. Her holo-image was jerky and constantly fading in and out. He was almost tempted to use computer matching to smooth out the image with the computers’ best guesses, but chose not to. You never knew when the matching program got some tiniest detail wrong. And Trang could not risk losing a battle over even the smallest anomaly. He would rather have annoyingly incomplete communications than communications that were possibly inaccurate. He took no comfort in the fact that he probably looked the same to Zenobia. But what could he expect, operating this close to the Alliance capital? They were doing their best to jam everything.
“If she is coming, it’s after having destroyed a fleet every bit as large as this one. For the thousandth time, we must not underestimate her in the slightest.”
“Admiral, I am not underestimating her. But I am not underestimating you either. We have a real chance of beating her, and if we do, the war is over.” Zenobia’s obvious relish at the coming battle was typical of her new and growing confidence.
Of course, thought Trang, if we lose, the war could easily be over, but not in a way we’d like. “What do we have out of Jupiter?”
“If our spy satellites are correct, and interference is a factor, J.D. broke orbit earlier today.”
“What did they detect?”
“Hundreds of large objects shooting on what may be an intercept course to Ceres,” answered Trang.
“So she is coming!”
“Don’t be so hasty, Zenobia. For all we know, she fired three hundred hunks of frozen hydrogen in this general direction just to fix our attention here while her fleet is heading for Mars.”
A look of alarm briefly crossed over Zenobia’s face. “Do you think that’s possible, sir?”
“Of course it’s possible, but I would have to say not very likely. Mars is well defended and has been thoroughly debugging its orbat field. And the truth is, we’d detect them heading to Mars in enough time for us to break off our attack and intercept.”
“Isn’t that what they’d want us to do? I mean break off the attack and come to Mars’s rescue.”
“Yes, except that I wouldn’t break off the attack.”
“You’d leave our capital exposed?”
“I’d leave our capital open for destruction if it would win us this war,” Trang said with conviction. “But in this case, I don’t think we have to worry about that particular threat.”
“Why not?
“Because J.D. knows what I know: At this moment, the Outer Alliance cannot win the war at Mars, but it can lose it at Ceres.”
A moment later, Trang received some more fleet intelligence, which he quickly passed on to his subordinate.
“Three fleets?” she asked, confusion evident in her voice. Zenobia was referring to the fact that UHF observatories and satellites had detected two more fleets of roughly three hundred ships leaving Jupiter’s orbit an hour apart from one another and going significantly slower than the first. Fleet intelligence had directions for the unidentified blobs as well. The first appeared to be going to Saturn while the other two were going directly to Ceres and Mars respectively.
“What on Earth are they up to?” asked Zenobia.
“Three-card monte.”
Zenobia looked at Trang vacantly.
“The object is to find the one truth among three potential falsehoods. You put a small pea, a seed about the size of an intermarked ball bearing, in one of three half walnut shells. A walnut is a—”
“Admiral, for the love of Damsah, I know what a walnut shell and a pea look like.”
“You never know with the current generation,” he chided gently. “Very well, you hide the pea under one of three shells and move the shells rapidly. When the shells stop moving, you have to guess where the pea is really hiding.”
“Until we get a clear vid of those fleets, we won’t know where the threat is.”
“I’m afraid, Zenobia, that even if we get three-dimensional images of a field of ice, we cannot fully trust them. The same goes for vids of a fleet of angry Alliance warships. How could we really tell which is fake and which is real? The Alliance has fooled us before.”
“Easy sir,” Zenobia said brightly, “it will be the one that is blowing the crap out of something.”
Trang laughed at that simple answer. “Yes, it will be the one blowing the crap out of something. I think we need a screen of light frigates around Ceres. If a gnat farts within ten million clicks of this place, I want to know about it.”
New Executive Headquarters (NEHQ)
Ceres
Hour 19
The Cabinet members were all in a black mood as the news was being delivered.
“We have a day and a half, maybe two at most, until the orbats are gone,” said Sinclair.
Kirk was looking a little more jumpy and a little less confident. “Has anyone made plans to evacuate the government?”
“Unless your plans call for being destroyed or captured.”
Kirk looked at Sinclair inquisitively.
“Trang has an effective screen out to ten million clicks,” finished Sinclair.
“Kenji informs me that he has … an idea,” said Sandra.
“He always has an idea, Madam President,” said Mosh. “Question is, is it one we can use?”
Kenji stood up from the guest area as half the Cabinet turned their heads to listen.
“Uh,” he began rather inauspiciously, “it occurred to me that—that there may be a way to weaponize the Via Cereana to our advantage.” He called up a host of technical details, which floated above the conference table completely ignored by the Cabinet members.
“It won’t be simple, but Hildegard and I think it can be done.”
“What can be done, Kenji?” asked Sandra.
“What you suggested, Madam President,” he answered, completely forgetting that Sandra had not wanted to be associated with the idea. “The old Via Cereana weapons system was designed to fire one way and to use huge projectiles. But if we can alter the programming, we’ll be able to fire out of both ends of the Via. We’ll of course need to—”
“Do it,” said Kirk Olmstead and Joshua Sinclair in one voice.
Kenji looked a little uncertain until Hildegard and Sandra both nodded. Then his look changed to one of avarice as he realized that he’d just become the most powerful man in Ceres, at least until he succeeded or they all died. Without another word, he left the Cabinet room, practically at a run.
“Fellow secretaries,” said Mosh, “as much as I’d like to believe that J.D. will arrive in the nick of time to save us or that Kenji’s genius will once more
allow him to jury-rig another miracle, we must face the fact that it is a near certainty we’ll all soon be dead.”
“Talk about a buzz kill,” sniped Sandra.
“The truth is often not pleasant, but nonetheless it’s the truth all the same,” responded Mosh.
“I assume,” said Padamir, “you had some reason for reminding us of what we already know.”
“Yes. We must see to the succession of political power in case the President dies. We should have done this long ago, but now we must have a Vice President.”
There was a moment of silence as the truth of Mosh’s words reverberated with the group.
“And whom would you possibly suggest for this?” asked Kirk. The tenor of his voice indicated the lack of seriousness with which he was taking Mosh’s suggestion.
“I’d recommend Karen Cho, governor of the Saturn system.” There were looks of surprise and some nods of agreement from the table.
“How did you arrive at Karen?” asked Sandra.
“It was easy, actually. First of all, she’s not here. If all of Ceres is destroyed, she’s at Saturn. Secondly, she’s the governor of the largest settlement we have left. A settlement soon to get far larger as the refugees from the asteroid belt and Jupiter arrive. Thirdly, she was a congressional delegate serving right here on Ceres until her election as governor, so she’s known and knows the people of the Outer Alliance as a whole and is not simply a Saturnian parochial.”
Sandra folded her arms together and looked appreciatively at the Treasury Secretary. “I find your idea has much merit to it, Mosh, and I agree with you concerning the need for me to have a Vice President. But if we choose someone from far away, it will be telling the solar system that we’re convinced Ceres is doomed.”
“Ceres is most likely doomed,” countered Mosh.
“Which is why we must be heroic until the bitter end,” she countered. “There must not be a single action that will cast doubt on our courage or hope. Which is why I agree we will appoint a Vice President, but it must be someone in Ceres this very moment.”
“As this will need Congressional approval, Madam President, I must ask whom you have in mind,” said the normally taciturn Tyler Sadma.
Sandra smiled provocatively.
Observation port for the Gedretar Shipyards
Via Cereana
Kirk Olmstead was pacing in nervous agitation. He liked thinking one step ahead of everyone he dealt with, but Sandra O’Toole kept on doing the inexplicable. Was she a genius or simply erratic? He couldn’t be sure, and he hated being unsure.
His pacing was interrupted by the appearance of Sergeant Holke, who quickly scanned the room, scowled at Kirk, and then nodded to someone in the corridor. Then in swept Sandra O’Toole, who purposely closed the blast door, leaving her guard of TDCs outside. Unlike Kirk, she seemed to be blissfully unconcerned.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Vice President?”
“I have not been approved yet, Madam President. And seeing my standing in the Congress and with Tyler Sadma in particular, I do not think I will be.”
“Your nomination will be approved in the next hour, or so I have been assured by the Speaker of Congress himself.”
“How did you—?”
“Let’s say that between what I’ve learned about our dear Congressman Sadma in the past seven months and the fact that he’s convinced you’ll be dead in a very short period of time, he decided his future reputation was worth more than your temporary promotion.”
“Whatcha got on him?” Kirk asked in genuine admiration.
Sandra shook her head.
“Fine, but this you must answer: Why did you want me? I understand why it had to be someone on Ceres, but other than Mosh, I must have been the hardest choice to get approved.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kirk. You are the worst choice as far as almost everyone is concerned, but you’re the best choice as far as I’m concerned, because you have always known what it would take to win this war. You never shied away from it. As much as Justin inspired, he never saw the truth of our situation like you did. If anything happens to me, the leader of the Alliance will need total clarity for the decisions that need to be made. That leader will have to make choices harder than any of us could have imagined. Frankly, I can’t see anyone else willing to make the hard calls as capably as you.”
“Other than you, Madam President,” Kirk said graciously and, he realized to his surprise, truthfully.
“Oh, I’m not sure, Kirk. You may be the best of us for seeing what needs to be done.” She smiled and brought out two bottles of beer from her bag. Kirk was delighted and perturbed to see that she’d brought his favorite brand as opposed to the ones he often pretended to like. She opened them both and handed him one. “To seeing things as they are,” she said, raising her bottle, “and those who are able to do so.”
There was the sound of glass hitting glass as Kirk touched his bottle to hers. He smiled, genuinely happy. He realized that he liked this woman and got the feeling she really understood his strengths. That instead of despising him for those strengths as so many others did, she admired them. This woman was the person he’d always wanted to work for: intelligent, ruthless, and understanding in just the right proportions. It was a shame he’d have to kill her in the next forty-eight hours.
AWS Warprize II
En route to Saturn
Hour 25
J.D. had just put her head down on her pillow when her communicator came to life at its softest setting. Instantly, she was awake and would have bolted up but for the six-year-old child who’d snuggled up beside her.
She wasn’t there a moment ago, thought J.D, who on checking the chronometer saw that she had actually gotten three hours’ worth of sleep and that her boots had been removed. Keeping still, she spoke softly, “Black here, report.”
“Your brand-new XO is asking you not to shoot the messenger and get your commanding butt up here,” said Jasper Lee.
J.D. was not totally happy with having to promote Jasper from sensor officer to XO. She was planning to when he’d been seasoned a little longer to actual command duties, but Lopez, her old XO, was now commanding the AWS Claim Jumper after that ship’s captain, first, and second officer had been killed by an asteroid impact that took out the corridor those unlucky three were walking down. The Claim Jumper was relatively undamaged, but its crew was incredibly demoralized, having served under those three for four years. The last thing J.D. needed was for one of her heavy battle cruisers to be made unreliable just before a battle. Victor Lopez was due for a command of his own, and the Claim Jumper getting J. D. Black’s executive officer off the flagship should reassure the crew that they were getting the very best available.
Victor would have explained to her the problem that had been pressing enough to disturb her sleep, as well as have the raw data he’d based his decision on. J.D. patiently explained this to a chastised Jasper Lee. But she was very good at bringing new XOs up to speed, having had so many of them transfer to commands of their own as soon as they were skilled enough. She would have been surprised to know that this XO would be her last one.
But what he told her and showed her was more than enough to get her out of her pallet, although she did move softly enough not to wake Katy and tiptoed out to her desk to put on her boots. Running to the command sphere, she flung herself into her seat while calling up the data. Then she called up the five commodores and her chief engineer for a small holographic conference. While they were all connecting to her communications node, she reviewed the latest fleet assessment. A lot of ships were tingeing into yellow green, and five of them were in the red. Three of those were actually farther ahead of the fleet because they’d taken damage to their propulsion units and could not slow down as quickly as the rest of the fleet. This had put them past the safety of the ice plow, but they’d insisted on keeping formation in hopes of repairing their propulsion systems and rejoining the fleet.
Tawfik and her five commodores w
ere floating images in a circle in front of her.
Commodore Cortez had lost her brother in an earlier battle and seemed to view the entire war as an excuse to seek vengeance. She had not crossed the line to where vengeance was more important than discipline, but she had come close to that line on a few occasions. J.D. was aware that Maria was a hard charger who had the absolute loyalty of her subordinates and would never disobey a direct order.
Francine Waterman was a strict professional, West Point trained and hired right out of the academy by SecureCo., one of the best mercenary companies in the solar system before the war. She wasn’t particularly creative in command, but could be relied upon to do what was ordered when it was ordered, and do it well.
Susan Cho was interesting in that she was a daughter of the extremely powerful Cho clan, which had practically owned Saturn before the war, and was the sister of Saturn’s current governor, Karen Cho, and the Saturnian Congressional Janet Cho. Susan had been the typical family screw-up. The one who would have ended up psyche audited or mining a rock in the middle of nowhere to escape family obligations she neither cared for nor felt bound by. But when the war came, much to everyone’s surprise including her own, Susan had proved to be a superior spacer and then an officer eschewing all the privileges her family had to offer and even pretending to be of no relation for years. Whenever anyone had asked if she was one of “those” Chos, Susan would laugh and say, “If I were, do you think I’d have started out as a spacer third class?” and then buy the person a drink to commiserate her lousy luck to be born to the wrong family. J.D. would not have known except that a then Congressional Karen Cho had come to Susan’s ship when her sister made captain. J.D. was fairly certain that if she had not been accompanying the future governor, Susan would have barred her sister from her new command. But whatever the bad blood was, it seemed to drive Susan to excel at a field none of her family ever bothered with.
