by Terry Mixon
There wasn’t any reaction from the red team for several more seconds and Jared could imagine some scanner officers gaping as the missiles appeared from nowhere and came howling in from astern. Zia launched a second set of missiles just as the enemy formation changed speed and began turning.
“Full acceleration,” Jared snapped. “Evasive maneuvers. Set course for the outer system. Use the asteroid for cover as long as you can.” Few of the eight missiles they’d launched would get through red team’s defensive fire, but even one would be enough to leave a mark.
He waited for the enemy to return fire, but they didn’t. Hadn’t the red team been at combat stations? He could almost hear the klaxons blaring and see the men rushing to bring their missiles online.
The enemy destroyers broke formation and began accelerating after them. Their anti-missile railguns fired at Athena’s first salvo, destroying two of them. Another detonated short of Spear, while the fourth lit up the heavy cruiser.
“Hit on the primary target,” Zia crowed. “It took him astern. High probability of serious internal damage.”
The enemy task force finally brought their weapons online and a swarm of missiles streamed after Athena—four from each destroyer, six from the light cruisers, but only three from the heavy cruiser. Less than half the eight Jared had expected from the large ship.
Still, twenty-seven missiles were much more than a destroyer like Athena ever wanted to see chasing them, even at extreme range. “Electronic countermeasures,” he said. “Evasion pattern delta.”
“I’m working on it,” Zia responded curtly, obviously too focused to realize that wasn’t precisely the tone an officer should use with her captain.
He grinned in spite of the tense situation. He loved his people.
Athena’s second salvo roared in on the enemy. The destroyers had pulled far enough away from their larger brethren that they could no longer provide effective anti-missile defenses for them. Their absence became clear when a second missile slammed into Spear. The massive cruiser rolled as explosions wracked her internally. It looked like her drives had failed.
Electronic countermeasures lured many of the red team missiles aside. Athena’s railguns accounted for some of the rest. The number of missiles that had acquired them at this range surprised Jared. Five got through their defensive fire and roared down on Athena like the wrath of God.
The bridge went dark. The only sound Jared could hear was Zia cursing. The consoles reset as the simulation ended and returned to standby mode, still locked out of operational control of the destroyer.
The main screen came to life showing the curve of the planet Avalon below them. Orbital One sat about ten thousand meters away. The breathtaking view dissolved as Zia put an incoming transmission on the screen.
Admiral Robert Yeats, Commanding Officer of Capital Fleet, shook his head. “While that was a glorious death, Commander, you still lost your ship.”
Jared smiled ruefully. “The target was too tempting to pass up, Admiral. I didn’t expect their fire to be so accurate at long range.”
“Save the heroics for when you don’t have a choice. You should’ve let them pass and been satisfied with warning us they were coming. That is what a picket is for, you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The better targeting was one of the enemy advantages for this war game. I’m impressed that only five of their missiles got through your defenses. You almost got away with your sneak attack.”
“As you say, sir, almost wasn’t good enough this time.”
The screen split as Captain Breckenridge of Spear—probably also the red team commander—and Captain Alice Quinn, the blue team commander, came into the circuit. Breckenridge looked pissed, Quinn bland.
“What kind of bull was that?” Breckenridge demanded. “The sim didn’t display Athena correctly.”
“Actually, it did,” Quinn said. “Commander Mertz used an asteroid as cover. Well done, Jared.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I still lost my ship. Not a good day for me or my crew.”
The dark-skinned captain nodded. “True, but you took out a heavy cruiser. Spear’s fusion plants went critical right after you blew up. That took her out and damaged both light cruisers. That said, while it was an excellent trade off from a strictly tactical perspective, I’d prefer you came back home alive.”
Breckenridge bristled. “Athena’s actions were clearly outside the boundaries of—”
“That’s enough, Wallace,” Yeats said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Just accept that you lost this one. Maybe next time you’ll be a little more paranoid. That’s why we have these war games, to learn what we can before the real shooting starts.”
The admiral glanced at his chrono. “We’ll have our after action briefing in one hour on Orbital One. Get something to eat and come ready to tear this operation apart. We have a number of things to discuss. Dismissed. Mertz, please adjourn to your office and stay on the channel.”
Jared left Zia in charge of the bridge, took the lift down one deck, and made his way to his office. He wondered what the admiral wanted with him. To chew him out in private? That wasn’t the old man’s style. He’d tear a limb off you in public and use it to beat you to death if he thought you deserved it.
Once he came back on the channel, the flag officer continued, “Once again, Commander, well done. I’m afraid you won’t be joining us for the briefing, though. Send your XO to cover for you. You have other plans.”
“That sounds ominous, sir.”
The admiral smiled. “Not really. Your father has requested the pleasure of your company for dinner. He wants to see you one last time before you ship out on the survey tomorrow.”
Jared kept his face blank, but inside he cursed. The very last people he wanted to spend time with were his father and half-siblings.
“I see. I will, of course, represent Fleet with honor.”
The admiral’s brows drew together. “Far be it from me to dictate the actions of a fellow officer in his social life, but when the ruler of the Terran Empire requests our presence, we go.
“Allow me to also stress that while you might have reservations about your relationship with the Imperial Family, it isn’t prudent to make an issue of them, even over a secure channel with someone who’s known you since you joined Fleet. It’s far safer if people think you’re happy to be the emperor’s son, even if you were born on the wrong side of the sheets.”
Yeats leaned forward and spoke more softly. “Fleet is supposed to be non-political, but you need to be the most enthusiastic supporter of the Empire and the Imperial Family. People are watching and waiting for you to give them a reason to hold your illegitimate birth against you. You can’t give them a lever to use against you, Jared.”
Jared sighed a little. “You won’t find a more ardent supporter of the Empire or the emperor, sir. It’s just hard to be enthusiastic when my half-siblings loath me and don’t miss a single opportunity to make their objections to my presence painfully clear. The heir couldn’t hate me more if I peed in his soup. Rubbing my existence in his face is not doing me or Fleet any favors. One day he’ll lead the Empire and I’ll be on the beach.” Or dead.
“The emperor is in excellent health and the heir wouldn’t dare take out a vendetta against a Fleet officer. Don’t be so melodramatic.”
The admiral hadn’t seen how deeply Ethan Bandar hated Jared. No one else had heard the threats the man made when no one else was around. They got worse every time the emperor insisted that Jared come to the Imperial Palace, too.
“I wish I shared your…optimism, sir.”
“I’ll see you at the final mission briefing tomorrow morning, Commander. Have a good time. Consider that an order.” The screen went dark.
Perfect. Jared wished the admiral understood everything he had to endure after the Fleet entrance physical revealed his parentage. He couldn’t comprehend why the emperor insisted on torturing him two or three times a year with these �
��family get-togethers.”
Not that any of it mattered, though. He’d go and he’d do his best not to let his relatives get under his skin.
He summoned Graves to his office. When the XO had taken a seat, he filled him in on his dinner plans. Graves knew how he felt. He’d understand.
Jared took a deep breath and tried to relax his tense back. “I suppose I should be used to the situation. It’s been fifteen years since I found out I was his son, but his children complicate things. I’m living proof that their father had an affair, and I’m the reason their mother divorced him. Not a good recipe for making friends.”
“I suppose not,” his friend said. “I bet we could come up with some mechanical failure requiring your presence.”
Jared allowed himself a small smile. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think that would go over very well the day before we leave on our grand exploration mission. Besides, my news isn’t all bad.”
Graves gave Jared a suspicious look, probably because of his captain’s mock-cheerful tone. “Oh? How’s that?”
“I don’t have to go to the after action briefing and have Breckenridge burn holes through me with his eyes. You get that honor.”
“Today just keeps getting worse,” Graves grumbled. “You’d think being blown into atoms would be the ultimate low point, but somehow you found a way to make death appealing. Thanks, Jared.”
“What can I say? I’m a beacon of joy. Don’t wait up.”
About Terry
Terry Mixon served as a non-commissioned officer in the United States Army 101st Airborne Division. He also worked alongside the flight controllers in the Mission Control Center at the NASA Johnson Space Center for almost two decades, supporting the Space Shuttle program, the International Space Station, and other human spaceflight projects during his tenure there. He lives in Texas with his lovely wife and a pounce of cats.
