“We’ve got them, sir,” Lomax said, pointing at three bodies – three more dead Espatiers – down the corridor. “Two of them are running.”
“Take First Squad, Lomax,” Cooper said.
“But Corporal…”
“Take First Squad! Take Engineering! And if you can’t, blow this god-damned ship right back to the hell it came from! Is that clear!”
“Yes, sir,” the stunned trooper said, pausing for a breath before racing down the corridor, five men following. Cooper looked around, gestured in the other direction, and started to run, not waiting to see if anyone was with him.
Four minutes and thirty seconds to go. A loud grinding noise started to whine from the far end of the corridor, someone opting to close the blast doors in an attempt to contain the attack. Doubling his pace, he sped down, ducking under it, only two others making it through in time, the rest futilely pounding on the metal.
“Blow the damn thing!” Cooper yelled into his communicator. “Follow when you can!”
Everything was building up inside him, a white-hot ball of rage that threatened to carry him away. His wife, almost certainly dead, and Sergeant Forrest, his oldest remaining friend in the service, shot by one of his fellow Espatiers. When another pair of Zeus crewmen turned around the corridor, pistols in their hands, he didn’t hesitate for a second before unleashing a pair of shots into them, sending their bodies sprawling to the deck.
There wasn’t time to find out if they were alive or not, and a part of his mind was disgusted when he realized that he didn’t really care. He jumped over the bodies and turned down the corridor, leaving them behind. Behind him, he heard an explosion, and paused for a second before realizing that the rest of his force must have got through the blast doors and were on their way to join him.
It was then he realized that he was lost. He looked down the corridor, then up a side shaft, and couldn’t work out where to go. His knowledge of the interior of the ship was vague enough anyway, and in the heat of battle he’d moved too quickly. Three minutes and forty seconds before he had to set the charge that the last trooper was carrying, then try and get the rest of his squad out of there.
No time for anything other than guesswork, and knowing what was at stake, while cursing himself for losing track earlier in his rage, he picked a direction and ran, his squad on his tail, not knowing that he didn’t know where he was going. He smiled as he saw the wall consoles get more complicated – a good sign. Backup systems monitors, extra life support telltales, and a series of escape pods along one wall. A lot of important people worked on this deck.
Just over a minute later, he turned a last corner and walked into a firefight, half a dozen shots cracking through the air. Instinctively, he tumbled to the ground, dropping and rolling away, and somehow managed to get back into cover without being hit. The trooper behind him was less lucky, staggering back with a bullet through his shoulder, blood spilling out onto the newly-carpeted corridor.
“That’s far enough!” a voice yelled. “We’ve got your other teams contained, it’s all over!”
“Not yet it isn’t!” Cooper said. “If we don’t take that bridge in two minutes, we’ll blow your damned ship to pieces!”
There was a brief pause, and he said, “You’re bluffing. None of you would get out of the blast radius in time. You’d be torn to pieces in the escape pods.”
Replying with a brief bark of laughter, Cooper said, “When I joined up, I was told that I might have to die in this uniform. That’s fine with me if it stops you!”
Counting to ten, Cooper waited as the murmuring dissent around the corner built, some of the troopers obviously arguing for them to come to terms, and then screamed, “Now!” at his men, and rolled back around the corner, firing on instinct.
His first bullet hit home, catching one of the troopers – another Ensign, by his rank insignia – and sending him falling to the deck. It was over in seconds, shots all around, screams and cries filling the air as the two sides exchanged fire. No cover, no skill, just random luck deciding who lived and who died.
Cooper looked around, cautiously getting to his feet. Three of his squad were still mobile. At the far end of the corridor, a young Lance-Corporal had tossed his rifle away, and had his hands raised in reluctant surrender. He looked down at him, then at the body of the Ensign on the floor, and shook his head. If things had only been slightly different, that might be him lying there, dead in the defense of his ship.
“Can you open these?” he asked the surviving guard.
“If I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Ninety seconds, sir,” one of his troopers said. Their names and faces seemed to blur. For a second Cooper thought he could see Zabek’s face instead, and he was back on Hades Station fighting the Cabal. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a few precious seconds, then looked around.
“Crack it.”
“We could take out the corridor…”
“Crack it, Private! Hull integrity be damned!”
Two of his team moved forward, setting charges in preselected places, working quickly but methodically as Cooper watched, covering the Lance-Corporal with his rifle.
“Why, Corporal?” he asked.
“I’m doing my duty to save the Confederation,” the prisoner snapped back.
“Funny,” Cooper replied, “That’s what I’m doing as well.”
The charges prepared, the squad retreated back out of the blast area, dragging their reluctant prisoner behind them. Less than thirty seconds before they would have to set a rather larger bomb, and they still had no word from the other squads. If Lomax and Fuller had failed, none of this was going to matter. All three attacks had to succeed.
It felt like the ship was already being smashed into pieces. The charges had not been conservative, and the deck shook, debris falling to the floor, shrapnel raining through the air. Blind to the risks, Cooper raced forward, not waiting for his men, charging through the breach screaming like a banshee, waving his gun dangerously around.
“That’s it!” he yelled. “Everyone move away from their stations!” He looked around, saw the surprise on the face of the technicians snapping their hands away as though their controls had become white-hot. Ackerman – according to about half the Senate, the President of the Triplanetary Confederation – was sitting in the command chair, and slowly turned to face him, a tall, blonde woman standing by his side. She raised her pistol to shoot him, but Cooper fired first, and she folded to the floor, clutching her side. He quickly raced up, and kicked her weapon away.
Cooper’s communicator crackled, messages queued for his attention, and barked, “We’ve taken Engineering. Ninety seconds to go!” Another voice, badly distorted, added, “Weapons secured.”
“Mr. Vice-President,” Cooper said, mustering as much decorum as the situation permitted, “You are under arrest on charges of treason.” It was only then that he saw the pistol nestled in his hand. “We hold this ship, sir.”
Nodding, he replied, “That is my understanding.”
“I want the fighters recalled, right now. They are to jettison all remaining missiles and land on Phobos.”
“Irwin,” Ackerman said, “Do as the Ensign commands.”
“Sir…”
“Do it, Spaceman. We’ve lost this game.” He gestured at the rifle, and said, “Are you really planning to shoot me, Ensign?”
Dropping the barrel to the deck, he shook his head, saying, “No, sir.”
“Pity,” he replied, raising his pistol to his forehead in one quick motion, pulling the trigger before Cooper could even move. Blood and brains spilled out onto the chair and the deck behind him, and Ackerman’s body slumped forward to pile onto the deck, while one of the technicians began to scream.
“Ensign!” Cooper’s communicator yelled. “This is Alamo! What’s going on? Status report, and make it quick!”
His face white from shock, he replied, “We’ve secured Zeus, Captain. Fighters recalled.” Looking at the blood still spilling out onto the deck, he continued, “Ackerman’s dead. He shot himself before we could take him.”
“Cooper, we got word from Mars…” Marshall said, before the signal faded out for a moment. He looked down at his rifle, smiled, and wondered if Ackerman perhaps hadn’t had the right idea.
“She’s alive. Badly hurt, but alive. Ryder’s on the way with a prize crew to take command, her shuttle will take you down to the surface.”
Lomax raced through the hatch, a smile on his face until he saw the corpse of the Vice-President on the carpet. With a grimace, he shook his head, and clapped Cooper on the back.
“We did it, sir! We won!”
“This is victory, is it? It sure as hell doesn't feel like it.” Looking around the room, he continued, “Take command, I’m going down to the shuttle deck.”
“Sir?” the stunned Lance-Corporal asked.
“I don’t see anyone else here on our side, Lomax. Ryder will be up in a few minutes. Until then,” he said, gesturing around, “you have the deck.”
Looking around the room with the first traces of panic on his face, he replied, “Aye, I have the deck.”
Cooper raced to the elevator, jabbing for the hangar deck. He needed to see his wife, but even more than that, he needed to get off this ship. Though he had a feeling that he’d be coming back whenever he tried to sleep, at least for a while.
Chapter 29
Orlova took a swig of water, from a three-liter jug that had been full when she started, and glanced down at her watch. By now, it must all be over, one way or another, up there in orbit. It was time to bring this to an end, and she suspected that the bleary-eyed Senators around her agreed. In less than two hours, they were to rest in any case.
“Mr. Chairman,” she said, “I have spoken at length to those assembled…”
“Damn right,” a dejected Yashimoto said.
“And I think that it is time to bring these proceedings to an end. By now, Lieutenant Geoffrey Talbot, a citizen of Ragnarok, will be waiting outside with a report for me; I request his admittance that he can brief the Senate on, ah, current events.”
“I second the motion,” Senator Harper said.
“How do we know he’ll tell the truth?” Norman replied.
Shrugging, Orlova said, “I have a feeling some of your people will be outside as well. Captain Tarrant, perhaps. I have no objection to their presence in the chamber also, to confirm the veracity of Lieutenant Talbot’s report.”
Senator Wilcox, rising to his feet, said, “We’ve been here too long as it is. If this will convince Senator Orlova to cease her filibuster, then I’m willing to allow this. Hell, I want to know what’s happened as much as the rest of you.”
“I still dissent,” Norman said, but the mood of the room was obviously against her. “Nevertheless, I am not unsympathetic to Senator Wilcox's argument. I withdraw my protest.”
The doors opened, and two people walked in; Lieutenant Talbot, wearing a dazed expression, and a stony-faced Captain Tarrant. They entered side-by-side, but neither seeming to acknowledge the other’s existence.
“Lieutenant Talbot,” Orlova said. “If you could brief the Senate on what has happened.” She was holding her breath, trying to read his expression. “Please?”
Nodding, he said, “The Battleship Zeus has been captured by forces deployed from the Battlecruiser Alamo; Alamo is currently in orbit, and a shuttle is on its way down right now with key witnesses to a conspiracy to bring down the Senate.” He glared at Tarrant, and said, “Vice-President Ackerman is dead. He took his own life, rather than be captured. We have recordings of his action if you wish to view them.”
“No!” Norman yelled. “He can’t be dead!”
“He is!” Tarrant said, storming over to her. “We picked a weak sister, damn it, and he shot himself right on Zeus’ bridge. It’s finished, Melody. We’re all finished. Even the Planetary Defense Control’s switched sides, Lieutenant-Captain Winter’s running it for the moment.” Turning to Olongo, he said, “I will testify to the truth of Senator Orlova’s accusations. I don’t ask anything for this. I just want it all over with, for the good of the Confederation.”
“You damn traitor!” Norman said.
Orlova rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away tears of relief, and said, “I move that the impeachment of President Newton be immediately dismissed.”
“I second!” Harper yelled.
“No,” Norman said, racing forward. “The man is a disgrace to his position!”
“You’re no better,” Wilcox said. “I instruct the Technocrats to vote to dismiss charges of impeachment.”
“A motion has been proposed, and will now be put to the question. All those in favor of dismissing the charges of impeachment, raise their hands.” Orlova tried to count, and got to thirty-two. With seventy-five voting members, it just wasn’t enough. She tumbled to her chair, the world beginning to spin.
“Those opposed.”
Another forest of hands, all of the Progressives and a few of the Technocrats. Twenty-nine. Orlova looked up, eyes darting around the room.
“Those abstaining.”
Fourteen hands, mostly Technocrats, a couple from the Freedom Party, and the lone independent. Pulling herself to her feet, she looked at Olongo, who smiled.
“A majority of the votes cast having been in favor of the motion, I hereby announce that the motion to dismiss the charges of impeachment against President Newton is dismissed.”
Before anyone could say anything more, Harper rose, and shouted, “I move to ratify the modified peace treaty with the Cabal.”
The second vote was far more one-sided than the first; forty-nine against twenty-one, with five abstentions. The parties were far more unified this time. Technocrats and most of the Freedom lobby in favor, the Progressives unsurprisingly opposed. Harper shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe that the tide had turned that quickly.
“With a majority of the members of the Senate so voting, I hereby announce that the peace treaty with the Cabal has been ratified.”
“This isn’t over,” Norman said. “We’ll see what happens after the election.”
“After this debacle, I think a lot of us are going to have to find new jobs,” Harper replied.
“Given the late hour and the length of the day,” Olongo began, “I propose that the Senate rests.”
“Wait!” Orlova said. “I propose charges of impeachment against President Newton.”
The room exploded in a wave of fury, shouts and cries from all corners of the room, disbelief on Harper’s face while Norman’s eyes seemed to bulge out of her sockets. Olongo slammed his gavel on the desk, attempting to bring order to the chaos.
“I will clear the room if I must!” he yelled. “Senator Orlova, once again,” he sighed, “has the floor.”
“You just spent twenty hours trying to clear him!” Yashimoto yelled.
“I spent twenty hours getting a peace treaty passed, and exposing a conspiracy against the Triplanetary government,” she replied. “That doesn’t make what he did any more excusable, and it certainly should not be ignored by this chamber. We are a nation of laws, not men, and while I acknowledge that there is no time for a proper debate, I want it on the record.”
“What’s the point?” Wilcox asked. “Nothing will happen. You just tossed the Freedom Party on the scrap heap.”
“Permit me to surprise the hell out of all of you. I voted Progressive at the last election, and I think their chances of victory just dropped through the floor as well. This is not a matter for party politics, but a simple question of ethics. I had to clear him to stop a greater sin from happening, but at no point did I disprove the allegations against him.” Pointing at Harper, she said, “You
knew, for months, what he had done, and did nothing.”
He nodded, then said, “Yes. I admit that. There were reasons.”
“Senator Norman, I don’t suppose you’ll answer me if I ask, but I’m damn sure that you were sitting on this as well, waiting for the election. If the chance to start the war you wanted hadn’t come up, I presume that it would have been suddenly discovered with a few days to go, enough for it to do the rounds of the media.” Raising a hand, she said, “Don’t bother answering.”
Looking around the room, she said, “You have a job to do, and I think most of you still remember what that is. Some of you have forgotten. The President should have been impeached as soon as the allegations came out. They should have been investigated, and if true, action should have been taken.”
“Damn it,” Harper said, “we needed those battleships in the fleet, not tied up in Senate investigations for ten years. Politics isn’t about black and white…”
“It’s about the tough decisions,” she said. “I’ve been in the center seat enough times to know what that’s like, but you do the right thing. Not the easiest thing, not the most expedient thing. There were avenues you could have taken, Senator. Don’t try to deny that.”
Olongo said, “You shame us, Senator.”
“That is not my intent. Lieutenant Talbot, have you got a report for me?”
“I do,” he said, passing her a datapad. “I think the end is the most important section.”
She skimmed it for a second, looked up, and said, “One thousand and ninety-three.”
“What does that mean?” Norman asked.
“The Triplanetary casualties in the Battle of Hades Station, and in the battle we fought overhead. Add to that another fifteen hundred or so on the Cabal side. Those are the lives you played with, Senator. You killed them as surely as if you had pulled the trigger yourself.” Looking around the room, she said, “None of you are free of this guilt! All of these deaths are on your conscience, and I hope you wake up screaming in the night when their ghosts come back to haunt you.”
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