Estelle gave Dodds a pleading look not to answer back.
“No, sir. I just had a little trouble sleeping last night, sir,” Dodds said, forcing himself to answer in as normal a tone as he could muster. Damn that bloody whiskey.
“Well then, we’ll see if we can get you a cot and a teddy bear for tonight then, shall we? Now get your arse out of bed!” Hawke shot back. He then started back down the corridor, though not before issuing a final ultimatum – “Main briefing room, Dodds!” he said, pointing a stiff finger. “Three minutes!”
*
The group entered the packed hall to discover that all of the seating, save for that closest to the podium, had already been taken. The way he was feeling, Dodds was keen to remain at the back and out of sight, happy to join those sat on the floor, or leaning against the wall. Unfortunately, Estelle was already herding them to the front, and the group ended up sitting almost right in front of the podium, the one place neither Dodds nor Enrique wished to be. The platform was already occupied by Parks, standing against a large screen that covered half of the front wall. He watched with an impatient scowl as people continued to stream into the briefing hall.
“Find a seat or some place to stand, and settle down!” his voice boomed over the speakers.
Dodds saw Hawke shouldering his way past those who had been forced to stand, on his way to get to the front, followed a lot less aggressively by Meyers. As Hawke stepped up onto the stage to join Parks, Dodds caught a glimpse of him stuffing a handkerchief back into a pocket. It appeared to once again be stained with blood. He wondered what was causing the man to suffer so many nosebleeds. He could never remember him having them in the past.
Parks said, “We have a lot to get through and very little time to do it, so pay attention, all of you.” The voices died down, and all that remained were the sounds of the shuffling of chairs and obligatory coughing. “It shouldn’t come as news to any of you that several months ago our flagship, CSN Dragon, was boarded and hijacked by an unidentifiable, yet strongly numbered hostile force. Following the attack, it dropped off all galactic surveillance systems and vanished without a trace. Of all serving staff, only the acting captain, Commodore Hawke, managed to escape. All other crew are now considered killed in action.”
Behind Parks, the screen updated to show images of the enormous battleship; not that anyone who had ever once set eyes on the behemoth needed reminding. At over four and a half kilometres in length, it dwarfed even the largest of the CSN’s other vessels, being several times bigger than its nearest rival. Griffin, the largest of the CSN’s starfighter carriers, was a mere eleven hundred metres by comparison. As Parks continued to speak, the images on the screen behind him changed to show schematics of the battleship, along with size comparisons with other vessels. Dodds rubbed his eyes, fighting to focus and keep them open.
“Without going into specifics,” Parks continued, “we now believe the theft of Dragon to have been orchestrated by one of the major factions fighting in the Mitikas civil war. After Dragon disappeared, it was assumed that it had either been destroyed, or had been abandoned and left to drift somewhere between star systems. However, two days ago Dragon reappeared in neutral space, and has since begun making its way through a number of the uninhabited systems there. We have been closely tracking its progress over the past forty-eight hours and believe that we are now in a position to intercept and retake the ship.”
Murmurs and mumbling began to spread around the room.
“He’s got to be kidding,” Dodds heard Kelly say under her breath. She was staring up at the screen, appearing staggered by the news. Dodds recalled the first time he had met Kelly, back at flight school, and how one of the first things she had spoken to him about was Dragon. Out of all the cadets there, Kelly was the only one to have seen it in person. She had told him how she had been overwhelmed by the vessel’s sheer size, compared with all the other warships in the Confederation’s fleet. Even Gloucester Enterprises, her family’s business, didn’t own vessels that approached its scale. And they had some big ships. Prior to her joining the navy, her father had managed to pull a few strings and arranged for her to be given a tour of some of the CSN’s bases and major warships; Dragon included. The battleship had been in dry dock at the time, undergoing maintenance. Most clearly now, Dodds remembered how Kelly had remarked that she was glad that it had been ‘on their side’.
He studied the projection as well as he could focus on it. The ship’s body was like that of a knife blade, with only the merest stub of a hilt at the rear. The “stub” housed three massive engines, complemented by four smaller ones on either side. The main body of the vessel drove forward to a point, two pairs of protrusions in the middle and at the rear following the overall lie of its form. There were no major vertical structures anywhere along its length, only a small number of elevations present, to accommodate the bridge and incredible array of armaments that dotted the surface.
Dodds concentrated on the screen for as long as he could, before the throbbing in his head forced him to give in. Whilst he was able to detect a strong sense of awe within the briefing room, his hangover was failing to allow him to appreciate the magnitude of the news before him. He looked to Enrique, who was fighting to keep his eyes open. Clearly, like himself, the man was wishing he could be somewhere else.
You’ve really messed up this time, Simon, he thought to himself. You’ve come back to try to set things right, but when it comes to the crunch, you’re almost bloody incapacitated. Congratulations, idiot. He slid down a little in his seat, to get more comfortable. Estelle nudged him hard to sit up. In future, he’d have to remember not to sit next to her during things like this.
“Pipe down!” The sound of Parks’ irritated voice was quick to disperse the mumbling that had grown considerably louder. “Based on the intelligence we have gathered, we anticipate that Dragon will very soon be entering the Aster system, an uninhabited star system that falls within the region of Independent-declared space. And when it does, it will be met by a large contingent of allied forces, who will immediately commence Operation Menelaus.”
The screen behind Parks changed once more, to show an overview of the operation he had just named, listing all involved parties and overall strategy.
“The reappearance of Dragon, so close to inhabited regions of Independent space, has raised many concerns within the IWC; so much so that they are fully prepared to back our move to retake Dragon. They will be laying on considerable hardware support themselves, which will join our main strike force of Griffin, Ifrit and Leviathan, captained by myself, Commodore Hawke and Captain Meyers, respectively.”
“This is pretty serious,” Estelle whispered in Dodds’ ear. “They’re throwing a lot of weight behind this.”
Dodds wished he could share her admiration. He also wished he hadn’t helped to polish off the rest of that whiskey. He pulled away from her, putting a hand on his forehead. It, like most of the rest of him, felt rather hot. He found himself wishing his hand was a pack of ice.
There, that was his three; and none of them had come true.
Estelle added, “and Meyers is returning to starship duty. That’s probably where he has been – preparing for this and gathering together the crew.”
Dodds turned a lazy head around the briefing room to see that, in an almost exact repeat of the ATAF presentation the Knights had attended earlier that year, jaws were hanging open.
“Do not misunderstand,” Parks boomed over the returning mumblings.
Dodds winced.
“As I’m sure all of you can fully appreciate, even by itself Dragon would prove a formidable opponent in direct combat. And, on this occasion, we believe it will also be accompanied by two Imperial frigates and several starfighter squadrons, all of which will have to be handled and dispatched in order to successfully complete the operation. For this purpose, we will be employing the use of several fighter squadrons of our own. And this, is where you all come in …”
Th
e screen behind him changed once again, detailing the squadrons. The fighters themselves were made up of the four usual suspects – TAFs, Rays, Rooks and Hammerheads. It looked as though there were three digits next to the TAFs and two for the others, but Dodds couldn’t focus on the exact numbers.
“Now, listen carefully,” Parks’ voice continued over the hall speakers, “there are two primary objectives in this mission – the first, as already stated, is the successful recovery and safe return of Dragon. The second is the apprehension of these two men …”
The display changed again, bringing up images of the two men in question, both highly decorated.
“The first, and most important of these two, is Admiral Jason Zackaria. He is the acting fleet admiral of the INF and is, without a shadow of a doubt, the one person whom we cannot afford to lose. I would even go as far as to say that the successful apprehension of this man actually outweighs the recapture of Dragon itself. We believe that he may have been instrumental in the theft of the battleship in the first instance and is likely to also be playing a key role in the ongoing troubles throughout Mitikas. Should he be aboard Dragon, then he must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to be killed. I will say that again – we need this man alive.”
“Enrique …” Dodds heard Estelle hiss. He looked around to see Enrique sitting up straight from where he had been hunched over, hiccuping. Dodds knew he needed to start making the effort to look coherent and alert to avoid drawing attention. He could worry about recuperating later. He folded his arms and looked at the screen, finding the images of black thread, red trims and silver buttons of the INF uniforms a little easier on his eyes than the bright white glare of previous screens.
He looked first to Zackaria, a name that was a little more familiar to him than most others. He had heard it thrown around from time to time over the years, though until now wasn’t certain he would be able to pick the man out of a line-up. The man looked to be in his early-to-mid sixties, his hair more or less gone, leaving him with only a few strands of grey. His eyes, too, were grey, and possessed a hardened edge. His face was long and clean shaven, though his skin appeared rough, with wrinkles, tiny scars and marks scattered about.
Easy enough, Dodds concluded. Zackaria’s distinctive appearance, as well as the fact that he’d no doubt be decorated to the nines, would make him quite easy to spot amongst everyone else. His age should also make him a lot easier to tackle than most members of the military. Not that Dodds felt as though he wanted to get involved in that sort of thing right now.
“The second is Commodore Julian Rissard,” Parks went on. “To our knowledge, he is Zackaria’s second-in-command and right-hand man. He doesn’t hold as much sway as Zackaria himself, but it would still be in our interests to bring this man in, too.”
Rissard didn’t appear as old as Zackaria, the man closer in age to Parks and Hawke. Like Zackaria, he was light-skinned, but with short, spiky blonde hair. One thing that was particularly noticeable about his appearance were his eyes. Maybe it was just the projection, but they appeared unnaturally bright blue. And although he held a neutral expression, the man looked somehow menacing, threatening. Almost sadistic.
A slideshow of images began, displaying the two men in various other poses – some at formal gatherings, others within parades. In a few, Zackaria was shown with a ceremonial sword at his hip, and sometimes holding it in a rather regal fashion. In others, he appeared to be holding a knife of some kind. It looked like a dagger.
After a few minutes, Dodds had had enough of staring at the photographs. His head had begun to ache once more. He eyed Chaz, seeing the big man looking attentively up at the screen. He looked as fresh as a daisy, as if he’d enjoyed a great night’s sleep. How? He’d been drinking, too, hadn’t he? He’d also enjoyed his fair share of the whiskey, as far as Dodds could remember. He wondered how the other four were feeling this morning. He expected that McLeod’s and Heywood’s heads were in a comparable state to his own.
“Remember these faces, people,” Parks said, “I want to be assured that even those not directly involved in the boarding of Dragon are familiar with all the targets and objectives of this operation.”
He moved on to describe how the mission was to progress. The Hammerheads, together with support from TAFs, Rays and Rooks, would form the “Initial Run”, striking against Dragon’s two escorting frigates – the Crow’s Foot and Bastone. Together, they would knock the frigates out of action, as well as any starfighter support. Once the path was clear to Dragon, the Confederation would then deliver their coup de grâce. As with all recently constructed warships, Dragon had an inbuilt fail-safe – a security module that allowed for all non-essential-to-life functions to be shut down remotely. Once within range, an override code could be transmitted to the target vessel, terminating its systems and leaving it unable to move, fire or – most importantly – escape.
With Dragon disabled, the escorting frigates out of action or destroyed, and only a handful of enemy starfighters to deal with, the rest of the mission would be a cakewalk. A large number of boarding vessels would attach themselves to Dragon’s hull, before burning their way inside and flooding the interior with a powerful nerve agent. Following this, joint CSN and UNF teams would board Dragon and perform a mop-up of any remaining enemy forces, before handing over control of the battleship to Parks, Hawke or Meyers. Once located, Zackaria and Rissard would be arrested and taken into custody. A specially appointed shuttle, containing a number of medical teams to administer treatments as required, would take them from the battleship and over to Griffin, where they would be held until the allied forces returned to Spirit.
Should the fail-safe somehow go wrong – and it wouldn’t – then the allied forces would attempt to force boarding by firepower alone. Although this was far from ideal, the combined CSN and UNF forces would at least still retain the element of surprise, and again seek to take down the frigates before engaging Dragon herself.
Or something like that anyway …
“Dodds!”
It was Estelle. Dodds realised that he had slumped down in his seat. His chin was on his chest and his eyes were closed. He had fallen asleep! He opened his eyes and looked back up at the screen, to see what he might have missed. Parks was looking directly at him. The commodore paused for a brief moment, before starting to talk again.
“Time is short, people. If we are to make our appointment, then we need to get things underway. You will be further briefed on the strategy upon arrival at your designated carriers.” With that, Parks began to rattle off names of flight groups, as Meyers and Hawke got to their feet and made for the exit.
“Come on, people! Suit up and get moving!” Hawke shouted, literally hauling people out of their seats as he went. “Now, people! Now!”
The fliers jumped to their feet and made to leave, as Parks continued to list departure points and destinations, assisted by a full detail of every participating squadron on the screen behind him. The White Knights were one of the last squadrons to be called. They had been assigned to Griffin and the vast squadron making up the Initial Run, meaning that they would be responsible for protecting the bombers as they engaged the frigates, as well as clearing the way for the boarding parties to reach Dragon.
“Right, let’s go people,” Estelle said, urging everyone up, “we’ve got an important job to do.”
“You alright, mate?” Dodds asked of Enrique. The man’s eyes were reddened from where he had been vigorously rubbing them.
“Not really, I feel like death warmed up—” Enrique started.
“You two, come here!”
Dodds knew instantly at whom the voice was aimed and turned around to see Parks glaring straight at him. The briefing over, the commodore had clearly turned his attention to his next issue – that of Simon Dodds and Enrique Todd.
Dodds knew he’d really done it now, as he and Enrique stood themselves in front of Parks, as requested.
“What seems to be the diffic—” Parks
started, before wrinkling his nose.
Really done it.
Parks didn’t need to finish the sentence, nor less ask the question. The stench of alcohol emanating from Dodds and Enrique had clearly already provided all the answers.
“Are you two drunk?” Parks asked incredulously.
Dodds thought twice about answering, knowing that the very breath leaving his mouth would contradict almost anything he were to say in his defence. He tried anyway. “No, sir, we—”
“Shut your mouth, Lieutenant!” Parks snarled. “Not another bloody word!” He looked over at the men and women retreating out the briefing room, seeking a quick solution to his new problem. “Lieutenant Chang!”
“Sir,” the man whom Parks had called after answered, turning around and saluting.
“You’re being reassigned. You and your team will now form part of the Initial Run. The White Knights will take over your secondary cover duties.”
“Yes, sir,” Chang said, his face lighting up. It was clear that he was delighted that he would now be playing an active role in the operation, instead of providing menial cover duties. Should everything go well, then he and his team would without doubt be recognised and rewarded for the essential role they would play. Dodds winced, knowing he hadn’t screwed this up just for himself. He turned to Estelle to apologise.
Parks pushed past him, getting to her first. “Get your boys sobered up, de Winter!” he glared, wagging a finger in her face. “And get to that departure point, now! I don’t want any more screw ups today! Got it?”
“Yes, sir! Immediately, sir …” Estelle started, though Parks was already marching past her and out the briefing room.
*
“… pair of complete bloody idiots!” Estelle glared at Enrique and Dodds as they hurried down various corridors, on their way to the transport landing zones, helmets in hand, still fastening up their flight suits. “Make sure you get into those damn shuttles!” she added, as the throng of people threatened to separate them from one another.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 19
