Scouts Out 3 - War

by Danny Loomis

  Shag’s eyes had lighted at the mention of an explosion. He quickly zoomed in on the first dock, until it looked to only be fifty kilometers away. “Hope this is a big bang,” he breathed. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to show Mister Grant?”

  By now the other three docks had begun glowing. “Hey, no one’s trying to escape. What’s up with that?” Willy asked, running close scans on each of the docks.

  “Because there’s no power,” Irish said. “The people in the front section of the docks, where the living quarters are, shouldn’t get too much radiation exposure. But without power?” He shrugged. “They’d better get help started that way pretty soon, or they’ll run out of air in a couple days.”

  ONBOARD RAGNAROK (Day +60)

  “Is everyone here?” Grand Admiral Haven scanned the crowded conference room. Admirals and Commodores were seated around the table, while Captains lined the walls. “Where’s Commodore Ronby?”

  His aide half-raised a hand. “He felt it was important to stay at the scene of the disaster, Admiral.”

  Haven gave a crisp nod, keeping his face calm even while his insides curdled. “In that case, let’s begin the briefing. Captain Winters, thank you for your assistance gathering everyone on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure, Sir,” he said. “For those who just arrived, there is coffee and tea on the back table. If anyone needs anything else, you have but to ask.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Haven said. “Okay, first up for this meeting is Captain Berry, Security Chief for the four docks that were attacked.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “There’s been some discussion as to whether it was an accident or sabotage. What are your thoughts?”

  Berry touched a button on the table and everyone’s hand comp lit up. “We feel it had to be an attack. Having all of the docks suffer identical damage within twenty minutes of each other couldn’t be a random event.” He highlighted each structure as it now was. Two of them were twisted wreckage, while two held what looked like normal battlecruisers nearing completion. Until closer examination showed the broken wrecks they’d become.

  “It’s been forty-eight hours and we still haven’t come up with any evidence how this was accomplished, except for the fact each facility had a thirty-second burst of EMP in the rear engine area before the power generation units-small nuclear reactors in this case-overloaded and severely contaminated each dock. Two locations also suffered massive explosions. We suspect this was from the fuel stored on board for the steering jets.”

  He flicked to another screen. “We had a light cruiser assigned as security for each dock, plus two heavy cruisers within a hundred thousand kilometers for back-up. They observed no hostile actions prior to the event.”

  Haven glanced around the room. “How many casualties at the docks?”

  The Logistics Chief, Commodore Lynton, stood. “So far we’ve counted four hundred workers from Eire, two hundred alliance civilians, and three hundred security soldiers.”

  Haven lowered his head a moment. “How many of the soldiers were Alliance?”

  Lynton consulted his notes. “Fifty, Admiral.”

  “Could have been worse, I suppose,” Haven sighed.

  Lynton cleared his throat. “Er-yes, sir. And it probably will be. Those were the numbers we’ve found so far. There are still a total of eighteen hundred missing.”

  A hand was raised at the table-Admiral Teal. “Sir, could it have been a bad reaction in the fuel cells-fusion bottles-on the ships? We’ve had a good record with them to date, but maybe we got a bad batch for the new ships.”

  Commodore Lynton was shaking his head halfway through the Admiral’s question. “No way. We thoroughly test each fuel cell that is inserted. As you know, those bottles will keep a ship fueled for at least ten years, so they have to be extremely stable. Historically, any problems that have occurred were minor and showed up long before they would have become critical.”

  Haven glanced around the room again as a thought struck him. “Are any of the nuclear engineers present? The ones who were tending the fission reactors?”

  After a few seconds of silence, Captain Winters cleared his throat. “I was just going over the roster for personnel who were assigned to the reactors. They were prepping for an inspection, and it looks like all of the Nukes were on the docks when the event occurred.”

  “Nukes?”

  “”Nuclear power personnel, sir.”

  Haven gave his head a frustrated shake. “Damnit, I happen to think those electromagnetic pulses disrupted the fission power plants somehow. Is there anyone in the fleet that understands how they work?”

  “Me, Sir.” A Captain stepped away from the wall. “I’m Captain Yancey. Using fission reactors for the power source during construction is only used nowadays in situations like this, where there isn’t enough power available from solar collectors yet.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  “If there was an electromagnetic pulse extremely close to the rear of the ship, it could overload the fission reactor’s fail-safes. If I remember rightly, there are three fail-safes available on each reactor. They have battery back-up, which the EMP would have burnt out. The extreme electron flux could have caused the reactor to overload. Not enough uranium in those small reactors to cause a nuclear explosion, but there’d be a strong possibility of a conventional explosion. Which in this case severely damaged the ships.”

  Haven’s stomach had begun hurting. “How long before we can repair the docks?”

  Commodore Lynton grimaced, shaking his head. “Never, Admiral. All we can do with material contaminated this badly is place it in a secure location and label it hazardous waste.”

  A deep anger was burning its way through Haven’s body. “So how far behind does this place us on the construction schedule?”

  Lynton shook his head tiredly. “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet. A best guess would be seven years if we get more skilled workers from the alliance right away. At least twelve with the work force we now have.”

  It was an effort for Haven to keep a calm façade when his entire body felt on fire. “I see.” He paused, giving a long stare around the room. “Everyone is excused, except for the Executive Group and Captain Berry.”

  The room silently emptied, Haven’s aide the last one out. He would remain outside the door, ensuring they weren’t disturbed.

  Haven rested his elbows on the table. “I’m not happy, Gentlemen. Even though our strategic aims aren’t seriously damaged, it affects the morale of our personnel when the enemy gets away with something like this.”

  “I agree, Sir,” Captain Berry said. “permission to question all the surviving personnel from Eire who worked at the docks.”

  “Granted.” He held up a finger. “But don’t go to the extreme of killing anyone. Not yet, at least. We’ll save the strong arm tactics for those we locate on Eire.”

  Admiral Willis straightened. “On Eire? But we don’t have an agreement with the Legislaturists to do that…”

  “Admiral, I want you to land a battalion of Commandos at each of the four major cities on Eire. And yes, you should politely tell them you’re doing so. We still need to at least get along with the leadership. Especially at the local level.” He paused a moment, deep in thought. “We should also have the 41st Division sent here ahead of schedule. They were supposed to leave the fourth planet we invaded next month. Move up the timetable, and have them start this way ASAP.”

  “What is our mission to be, Sir?”

  “Haven leaned back, letting the anger surface on his face. “To gather information by any means necessary. And to act on it. Especially anything we learn from those civilians we question up here.” Haven smiled, eyes glinting. “Those are your orders, Gentlemen. Now, let’s do some planning on how we’re going to make this happen.”

  ONBOARD EREBUS (Day +62)

  “Two Eagles got the message, skipper.” Shag almost leaped from the co-pilots chai
r in his hurry to leave the flight deck. “Got to hit the head. I’ll be back.”

  “I told him to go pee before he started that message,” Willy said, shaking his head.

  Irish shrugged. “At least he held it. By the way, did you get a chance to go over the information we got about the layout of the Leg base on the second planet?”

  “Y’mean Danu? Yeah, I studied it and don’t think we’d better try to tackle that place by ourselves, even to sneak into. Pretty well forted up, if you ask me.”

  Shag came hurrying back. “Sorry, but when nature calls you got to listen.”

  ‘Two Eagles have any comments about what we sent?” Irish asked.

  “Yep. Said they’d already gotten word about the Alliance being riled up, but hadn’t heard about the troops they planned on sending down.”

  A blinking red light on the pilot’s board had Irish lurching upright. He hit the switch next to the light. “This is Scout One, over.”

  “Switch to Command Channel ten.” The light died.

  Seconds later a familiar voice echoed from the speaker. “This is Red One. Would you happen to have a pilot that goes by the name of Irish close by?”

  “That’s me, Red One. Welcome to Eire.”

  “Give us your coordinates and we’ll drop in for coffee.”

  A tap of his finger sent the information. “Be warned, Red One. The Alliance has an interlocking detection system set up throughout the system. We had to move ten degrees above the elliptic to enter safely, even while cloaked.”

  “Roger, message received.”

  Once he’d signed off, Irish leaned back with a smile. “Looks like our second mission has shown up, guys.”

  “I do remember Grant saying something about that,” Shag said. “Didn’t say much, just to stand by and do whatever we could to help them when they showed up.”

  Irish nodded. “That’s about it. Grant seemed to think it might shorten the war if it was successful.”

  Willy shuddered. “I hate it when Mister Grant says things like that. Usually means lotsa folks are gonna die.”

  “I hope you’re wrong this time,” Irish said, shaking his head.

  The next two days passed slowly for Irish and his crew. Red One was being ultra-careful with their progress. Finally the signal came. “Have you in sight, Scout One. Got room for six more down there?”

  Hours later six corvettes were either on the surface of the asteroid or tethered to it. “Kinda crowded, Skipper,” Willy said.

  “Too crowded for me,” Shag grumped. “Sooner they’re out of here the better.”

  Irish tapped his screen. “Three visitors headed our way. Should find out how long they’re here from this bunch. Shag, go down to meet and greet, will you? And don’t bite their heads off.” He turned to Willy. “How about getting a fresh pot of coffee on? Least we can do is make them feel at home after the trip they’ve had.”

  The first person out of the lift had Irish stepping forward with an exclamation of pleasure. “Major Stanton, thought I recognized your voice on the radio. Good seeing you again.”

  “You too, Irish. Been too long.” He turned to the two with him. “Major Stevens, Captain Calef, this is Captain Shannon. Used to be a member of the LRS folks I’ve told you about.”

  Once introductions were over they gathered around the table, coffee in hand. “Sorry about the crowded conditions, but we didn’t expect this many ships,” Irish said.

  “No problem,” Stanton said. “We’ll only be here long enough to get our packages and people delivered to Eire. Then most of the ships will head home, except for one that’ll hide in the system until needed.”

  “So what’s the plan, and how can we help?”

  Stanton smiled. “That’s what I always liked about you, Irish. Get the work done, then have fun. We’ve got state of the art shuttles like yours to move personnel and smaller amounts of gear, but need your ship to deliver larger equipment that won’t fit in the shuttles to six locations on Eire. It’ll probably take two trips per site for the Erebus. Can you do it?”

  “Can do, Sir,” Irish said.

  Calef glanced around the table, holding up a data cube. “I’ve got the load plans for our ships showing what we’ve got. You want to talk about how we’ll do the offloading?”

  Shag snatched the cube from his hand with a smile. “Finally, a challenge. You got any loadmasters with you? I can go over with them the best way to handle loading and unloading. That okay?”

  Irish laughed at the surprise on their faces. “Gentlemen, I think we need to get out of the way of the real experts concerning cargo transfer. Now what about the landing sites?”

  Stevens nodded at the cube in Shag’s hand. “The coordinates for the six sites are on there, to include the order of delivery. We’ll leave a crew here to help with the loading process for each trip, and if you would help our ship locate where it could hide during our stay, we’d be grateful.”

  “No problem,” Willy said. While you was jawin’ I got a couple places it can choose from.”

  “Is there a timetable for the mission?” Irish asked.

  Stanton shook his head. “Other than ASAP for getting the material and personnel on the ground, not one we could share with you. Except for a general statement of try to have the new government ready to take over in a couple months. I think you’ll get word from another source when the time comes.”

  Stevens leaned forward. “It’s important that you not try and contact us once you deliver our equipment. Far as you’re concerned, we don’t exist. Understood?”

  “Completely, Sir.”

  Stanton glanced at everyone. “If there aren’t any questions, I think that’s it.”

  As they were leaving, Stanton gripped his hand. “Hopefully we can talk more after this is over. In the meantime, if you absolutely have to send a message, use Command eight. You won’t get an answer, but your call will be recorded.” He stepped into the lift, raising a hand while he sank out of sight.

  * * *

  Rain had been drizzling out of the sky since Irish landed two days previously. Now, it was coming in sheets backed by a hefty breeze. He concentrated on driving the internal combustion van, determined not to embarrass himself in front of his passenger.

  Two Eagles glanced at the white knuckled grip Irish had on the steering wheel. “You’re doing pretty good only having two days driving lessons. Just hope you don’t break that steering wheel.”

  Irish laughed while loosening his grip. “You’re right. Nervous, I guess.” He flexed hands that had started to ache. “We should be getting close, it’s been an hour already.”

  “Yeah, just saw a sign saying it was two kilometers to Carrow. Not much longer.”

  In truth, Irish had been thoroughly enjoying the drive. He’d found the challenge of keeping the van on a narrow road to be stimulating, especially when another vehicle approached from the opposite direction. He squinted through the windshield. “Okay, think we’re entering the town. Keep an eye open for the café we’re supposed to meet your new recruits in.”

  By the time they’d parked near John Boy’s Café, the wind had eased. Two Eagles slipped on the large-brimmed hat and grinned. “Y’know, I really like this hat. Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

  Irish gave him a critical once-over. “Yeah, it’ll do. Those baggy civvies and the hat help cover up how ugly you really are.”

  “Smart ass. I mean smart ass, Sir.” He opened the door. “As if your outfit looked any better. Let’s move it, before that wind turns the rain sideways again.”

  Irish spotted his sister at a back table when they entered. Four men were seated around her, all earnestly talking. Her eyes lit in recognition and she waved them over. Only two other tables had customers, and they were at the front. He tried not to look too closely at them; from their hard looks, they were part of the group Lenora ran with.

  “Brother, Mister Eagle. Good to see you.” They sat in the two e
mpty chairs. “As promised, gentlemen, four of the best shots ‘round these hills. And chomping at the bit.”

  “Good to see you, Lenora.” He turned to the others. “And good to see fresh recruits. The gentleman sitting next to me is one of the instructors. He’s not only a dead shot, he’s also the sneakiest man I know.” He offered his hand to the closest one to him. “and who might you be, Sir?”

  The man gripped his hand, making eye contact. “I’m Benjamin. Are you the one our snipers call Father?”

  Irish felt his face heat. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  Benjamin gave his hand an extra shake. “A man from our district joined the snipers at the first. He said you were a true magician with a rifle, and well deserving of the title. It’s our wish to become not only snipers, but some of your best, so we may also call you Father.”

  “I’ll make you a promise, Benjamin. If you can score at least 95 out of 100 shots on a nine hundred meter human-sized target, I’ll take you as my spotter on a mission. After that, you’ll be considered one of my kids.”

  Ten minutes of discussion passed before Lenora stood. “I think we’d better get moving. Mister Eagle, if you’ll show your new recruits where you’re parked? I’d like to have a word with Ian for a minute.”

  She watched them file out, face expressionless. “What’s with the ‘Father’ bit?”

  Irish shrugged. “When I was training the first snipers, they started calling me that. Seems to have become a title of respect.”

  She gave a nod. “Good. You deserve it. By the way, I heard your mission to revenge our parents was successful. Well done.” She turned to face him. “I’ll continue adding bodies to the count. Even today, we’re on our way to an assembly of sycophants that bow down to the Legs. Wish us well, Ian.”