by Chris Hechtl
“I know,” the commodore growled. “Defense plan, Stonewall. Get the picket out.” He'd already ordered the decoys and jammers out to blind the enemy and allow his force to get clear. He wasn't certain if it would work or not. It was one thing to do it in a simulation, quite another in real life.
And this time there were no do-overs, he reminded himself grimly.
“Aye aye, sir,” his TO replied.
It was going to be close, Diao thought as he examined the plot carefully. As he watched, the other ships in TF 1.4 were launching missiles. They were late; his forces would be out of range by the time they went ballistic. He ordered a maneuvering change to throw them off. It was minor, but it would help cut the incoming missiles off.
@
Gunhilda had just gotten her counter missiles up and had started to fire when the battle cruiser missiles cleared their envelope. Point Defense Lasers spun and spat energy in a desperate bid to claw at the attackers. Decoys spun up to life, and shields came to full power.
The incoming fire was chewed up by the PDLs, but there wasn't enough time to get them all. Thirty-four missiles got through everything the startled super dreadnought squadron could throw at them to get into engagement range. Their warheads split and submunitions spread apart and then detonated.
Admiral Rowley clutched at a railing as his massive ship trembled and then pitched more than her crude inertial dampeners allowed for. “We're hit on the port side, multiple strikes!” the XO said on the bridge. The flag bridge's vid screens blinked to snow briefly before they came back up. Their port sensors were crippled by the strike.
“We're venting atmosphere. Tenji, Nakumora, and Hiro have all taken hits as well,” Rosalinda reported in a taught voice.
“And our strike back?”
“Long-range sensors are offline. We lost contact when we were hit. Telemetry was cut off. The missiles are on their own,” she replied.
“Damage reports coming in. We've lost a chunk of the drive. Our port shields are down,” a rating reported on the bridge. Admiral Rowley grimaced as he turned to the vid feed. “We've got dozens dead or unaccounted for,” the rating stated.
“Should we pursue?” Rosalinda demanded.
“Status of TF 1.2.2?” the admiral growled as his steward arrived with his vac suit. “A little late,” he growled, looking at her and then to his chief of staff.
“No more incoming fire. We are out of their weapons zone. They are now out of our weapons engagement zone.”
“And they are running away. They are battle cruisers; we don't have a chance in hell of catching them,” the admiral said, sitting in his chair heavily as the steward laid the suit across his armrest.
“Son of a fracking …,” he rubbed his temples as his ears overheard more damage reports incoming across his task force.
“What the hell just happened? Why did they fire?” David demanded.
“Where the hell do they think they are going?” Rosalinda demanded at the same time.
“Bek B. Most likely there,” Admiral Rowley grumbled as a fresh report of comm activity, this from Command One, came in.
“Stall Command One with a contact report. David, put out a call to all ships to watch out for them. I want to know where they are going. They might head for a resupply depot on their way to Bek B. If they shape a course for one, let them know. And get me a handle on the damage and casualties,” he growled.
He was never going to hear the end of it he knew.
@
Diao grimaced when he saw the status of his own damage. Despite having surprise on their side his force had gotten pounded. Fortunately, he hadn't lost any ships in the process, but it wasn't good. They were trailing fuel and atmosphere and had dozens of personnel unaccounted for. It would take time to get his force sorted out.
But they were running. They were running at their best speed, and so far, no one was interfering with them. Shock had something to do with it as did the light speed time limit. By the time the rest of the fleet knew what was going on and reacted by requesting orders from Command One and Command One processed them and then answered, he should be able to get clear of most of them.
“Set course for Bek B, best speed,” he ordered.
“We are going to have to travel most of the distance on ballistic with the fuel we've got,” his staff navigator warned. “It will take months to get there. We'll be arriving on fumes when we do.”
“So be it, as long as we get there,” Diao said with a grim nod.
Now he just had to live with himself and what he'd just done. That wasn't going to be so easy he thought as his eyes strayed to the long-range repeater plot and hovered over where the blinking blood-red icons of where TF 1.4 was.
@
Sherman stared at the admiral's image with his trademark basilisk gaze as Admiral Rowley gave his report over the encrypted vidchat. He wanted the man in front of him, but he also wanted information quickly. It would take at least a day before the admiral's flagship would return to port.
“So, he got away?” Omar demanded.
“Yes, sir. I didn't expect to be fired on, nor his units to react as a cohesive unit. They got clear before my forces could react.”
“It seems like your people need more training,” Admiral N'r'm'll stated. “Casualties?”
“We're still getting a handle on that. So far, we've confirmed 428 dead. No ships lost thankfully, but the loss of life …,” the admiral stopped himself and then shook his head.
Sherman fumed as he sat there and drummed his fingers.
“We didn't fire first. His people went to battle stations and fired without warning. It just boggles my mind that they'd do that. That they'd be willing to kill their own fellow sailors,” Admiral Shren murmured. He glanced over to some of the others in the room. Helen and Jean looked physically ill.
“In hindsight, it was a mistake to order him aboard my vessel like that,” Admiral Rowley stated in a chastened tone of voice. “I obviously hit a nerve, either with how I did it or coming at him cold like that.”
“You think?” Admiral Draken demanded scathingly. The media and the navy were going apeshit over the loss of life. There was no way to hide it; in fact, the media was already starting to note it in their reports that something happened. Their few friends left in the media were initially spinning it as a live-fire exercise, but he knew that wouldn't last. When the official death notices went out, they'd have an even bigger mess on their hands with grieving families.
“He didn't pop any of our flags or other markers until the very end,” Admiral Hill stated.
“Of course not! He was smart! How many others are out there like him?” Admiral Childress demanded.
“I don't know. If we go after them, we'll kick off a witch hunt,” Admiral Shren stated. “But we can't leave them lurking there like time bombs I have to admit.”
“That's the definition of a bad idea.”
“What gets me is that his entire crew went along with him—not just his crew, the entire squadron!” Admiral Callisto said with a shake of her head. “To do that …”
“I want to point out, our people didn't do it, they didn't fire the first shot as Admiral Rowley has reported. If he had stood down, none of this would have happened,” Admiral Childress said insistently.
“Omar, they are our people too. For that matter. if you had stood down none of this would have happened!” Admiral Draken snarled.
“I backed them into a corner. He panicked when I ordered him to come over to my ship,” Admiral Rowley said miserably. All eyes turned to his image on the screen. They could tell the other man was haunted by the decisions he'd made.
“You should have informed me. You should have informed your local ONI officer of your suspicions and let us handle it,” Patty growled, brown eyes flashing at him in recrimination.
It took a few seconds for the message to wing its way across the void and then for them to see him flinch in reaction. But he didn't deny it; he just
nodded once.
“Thank you, Admiral, wait for a bit,” Sherman said as he used the remote to lock down the camera and microphone on their end. He turned to the others in the room. To say that none looked happy was an understatement.
“I think we have to go after the others. Just the ones with questionable loyalty. Anyone with links to Third Fleet. Families, friends, spouses, whatever. We don't run them through the ringer, just … move them to less vulnerable positions or ease them onto half-pay until we know what to do with them.”
“We can start looking,” Admiral Hill replied, bobbing a nod.
“Do so. Get the rest locked down, Patty. I want it started today.”
“Yes, sir. I'll start with First Fleet and the inner system and then go out from there. But I have to warn you, an investigation of this magnitude is going to take time.”
“Get it done.”
“On top of everything else we're doing, I don't know if I have the resources,” she warned. “And I don't have the budget.”
“It's a computer search!” Omar growled in disgust.
“It's a complex search through multiple computer databases with millions of names trying to find connections,” she corrected him. “We've been building a database of the rebels we know in Third Fleet. I've been cross-connecting them with the existing files. That's our starting point. Known associations will take time. And we'll have to do interviews.”
“And that very well might trigger another incident,” Admiral Draken said slowly. All eyes turned to him. “I think Commodore Yashido panicked when Admiral Rowley ordered him to his flagship. It fits with the timing.”
“And that's just the sort of situation we want to avoid,” Admiral N'r'm'll stated. “So, how do we do that?”
“Sending boarding parties of ONI or MPs will trigger panic of a witch hunt,” Admiral Shren warned.
“Then what?”
“Can you use your personnel? Those undercover? Find and arrest the suspects before they do anything stupid?” Omar demanded, turning on Admiral Hill.
She spread her hands but grimaced. “Yes, but it will expose them. They'll be burned. We don't know if burning them to expose potential threats is a good thing. Remember, I've only got so many.”
“And none of them are reporting anything like this?” Admiral Shren asked.
“A lot of grumbling, a lot of people wanting someone to do something, but always someone else. A lot of wringing hands,” Patty admitted. “Low-level stuff. This,” she indicated the plot, “I agree with Sherman; I think it was a panicked reaction. There might have been a GOTH plan involved, but I can't tell off the cuff.”
“Find out. And get on the other personnel. Interview the families involved. I want people to know we'll come down on them if they don't report potential mutiny,” Omar growled.
“Yes, sir.”
@
Vice Admiral Odette Champion picked through her paperwork. The navy loved paperwork and Childress's administration seemed to take positive sadistic glee in inflicting it on everyone. Since they didn't have much else to do, she could see wanting to catch up on things, but this was getting out of hand. She'd already finished the weekly report yesterday; now, they wanted another inventory. Again. A full one, which was done two weeks ago. Make-work was getting out of hand.
She shook her head as she set the tablet down in her lap and picked up her cup of tea. She was a chimera, one who had come up through the tactical track. She was tall, standing just less than two meters tall at 191 centimeters. She had a muscular frame from her years of working out both in the gym and on the mat. Her skin was a glossy black. She had pointed ears and white hair and eyebrows. The whites of her eyes were red. It was a startling thing to some who weren't ready to see eyes like that and even more so when she was angry.
She was a rarity in the service, apolitical. She had done her best to keep out of the politics for years, hunkering down and doing her best in exercises to rise through the ranks. She chose proven merit over officers who cozened up to her. She was a hard and demanding boss to work, for but her people had a sense of pride and were fiercely loyal to her. She wanted and expected the best out of her people and she got it. She was also willing to back them; something that was much appreciated when ONI went head hunting in her command over the past several months.
She had been kept more or less out of the mess around Command One. She'd done it deliberately and hadn't resigned when others had. She'd stayed out of a sense of duty to the Republic and to the men and women under her command, but she made it quietly clear she was staying out of the mess surrounding Childress. It might have been something of a relief to her people.
Based on the stats, she knew that most of Fourth Fleet's personnel who were indignant of Childress hadn't resigned. She'd like to attribute it to their love of the Republic and hated it when Toby, her chief of staff, insisted it was due to her quiet leadership.
Fourth Fleet like the other fleets was down by almost half. She had only four squadrons of super dreadnoughts, twenty carrier groups, but she had the most cruisers and tin cans in service of the four fleets. Mainly because she had talked BUSHIPS into retiring the frigates.
She was supposed to swap with Second Fleet to take over overwatch of the jump point but that had been nixed two months ago. Second Fleet was overdue for rotation home, but apparently Childress wanted someone that he trusted in command over there. That slap had been passed through the back channels, and it bothered her a bit. He hadn't gotten around to sacking her, mainly because someone had talked him out of it. Well, that and he was too busy causing hate and discontent elsewhere.
She stiffened when CIC reported the first exchange of fire. She rose from her chair and watched the feed. She realized peripherally that she wasn't the only one silently aghast at what she was seeing. The pinpricks of explosions couldn't normally be seen by the natural eye, but hers were enhanced. Unshed tears hovered in her vision as her imagination filled in the blanks where her vision failed.
“Ma'am?” Toby, her chief of staff asked softly. She turned to him. He pointed to the plot.
She realized she could generate an intercept of the fleeing ships. “Let them go,” she said quietly. He nodded.
“Damn them,” she murmured ever so softly. Whatever had triggered it, it wouldn't end there she knew. But it had done what other things hadn't; it had spurred her to action. “Toby, we need to talk,” she murmured in passing to him. He nodded once.
@
Rear Admiral Ross grimaced as he heard the report of weapons fire between TF 1.4 and TF 1.2.2. He was going to be investigated he knew. Someone was going to catch hell over that. He did his best to put any sort of thoughts of guilt in the furthest corner of his soul. He had too much at stake to screwup his poker face.
Instead, he dived into the trial and did his best to look befuddled when the investigators came by. He was fortunate that they accepted that he had no idea about Diao's treason and was as angry and bewildered as they were at what had occurred.
With any luck, they wouldn't be back for a follow-up interview he thought.
Still, it might be a good idea to look into a nice tourist trip on Thebes, somewhere that he could lose himself in a hurry if he felt the need. And he'd have to be smart about his planning too, keep everything internal and on the down-low. No offending computer searches or stupid give-away looks he reminded himself.
The next few months were going to be hell he thought to himself miserably.
@
President K'k'R'll signaled first-degree dismay when the government received news of the firing incident. “This is getting out of hand.”
“The problem is there isn't a damn thing we can do about it,” Senator Lars Thurgunsson grumbled. He was deeply regretting his brief time supporting Childress. He resented the lack of control, and seeing the navy tear itself and potentially the Republic apart haunted him at night.
“Nothing except come out against Childress openly,” Senator Gisa
ine Hsiao stated. His cousin was in the prison and feeding him information about Admiral Logan. The news was mixed. He passed the information on to the administration.
“If we do that, the coup we've been afraid of will happen. He's shedding his supporters in Congress and in industry, but some are still hanging in there. I don't know why, but they are. If we come out against him, he'll be pushed into a corner,” Senator Spencer Atwater stated.
“I know. No one likes a cornered Denubian rat. They are dangerous,” the president stated.
“Exactly. He's one big damn rat though,” Senator Hsiao said with a sniff.
“Agreed. One big dangerous damn rat,” Senator Atwater warned. “We can keep playing games with congress and the treasury. Dragging our feet there will drive a wedge between his remaining supporters and him. I know they have been agitating to renew construction.”
“Yeah, apparently, they didn't think that one through,” Senator Thurgunsson said dryly. “I'm getting hit by my constituents on a daily basis over it. A lot of people are out of work. You'd think not spending billions in taxes to build obsolete ships would be a good thing.”
“Having millions of people out of work, potentially billions, is worse,” Senator Atwater replied glumly. “We need to find a way to get the economy turned around.”
“Without helping that bastard nutjob in charge of the navy,” Senator Hsiao grumbled.
“Amen.”
“Our people in the navy have reported he is moving to blockade Bek B completely. That means all civilian traffic will be cut off,” the president stated.
The assembly of senators stared at him and then grimaced. “Damn it,” Senator Thurgunsson grumbled, scrubbing his face with a hand in frustration. “He really wants a civil war, doesn't he? That's going to hit commerce; we'll have tens of thousands of spacers out of work!”
“Plus trade—the merchant houses will be squealing. Yes, I know,” the president replied. “I can't stop him. Deployment of the navy is a federal issue. He's already slapped my truehands over it several times.”
