Heads turned to a rather thickset man seated next to Liu, who straightened up. As Griffin's chief engineer, Matthew Marsh was in a far better position to answer Parks' question.
“It seems that there was a malfunction in the jump engines, most likely caused by the damage we sustained during the battle,” Marsh began. “Unfortunately, due to the nature of the issue it was not something that we could have pinpointed until we attempted to use them.”
Parks scowled. It sounded like a very weak excuse for such a serious issue.
Marsh added, “Our pre-jump safety checks and individual unit tests reported no faults and everything seemed to be working as expected.”
“But it didn't work, did it, Mr Marsh?” Parks said, irritably.
“No, sir.”
“When we get back to Spirit, I want a full review of all jump safety checks. This could have destroyed the ship and killed everyone aboard.” This was directed at everyone within the room, though Marsh fidgeted as Parks' eyes fell upon him. “How is it that we managed to get from here to here so easily?” Parks asked after studying the galactic map for a few moments, pointing from Aster to the Phylent system, that lay close to the Imperial-Independent border.
“Well, that is actually quite interesting,” Marsh started, before back-pedalling upon seeing Parks' stony face. “Er... I think that the malfunction in the jump engines must have thrown some of the astral calculations out. However, owing to some other factors we have successfully compensated for those miscalculations. The jump computers selected a cached version of one of Phylent's navigation buoys as their destination and dropped us in a random part of the system.”
“That actually fits in with what I was thinking,” Liu said. “Phylent and Aster are more or less equidistant from Spirit. Basically, we just went the wrong way; albeit exceptionally fast.”
Parks considered the explanation for a moment. “Fine,” he said.
“A shame we don't know what the secret speed ingredient is,” Marsh started to babble. “I have to say that I am actually amazed at the distance we managed to cover in such a short space of time. I'm planning on holding on to the data from the jump, so we can analyse it once we return to Spirit. The findings could help to revolutionize space travel and...”
“Put it in a report,” Parks said, waving away the rest of the comment. Right now he was not prepared to allow the man to indulge his knowledge and enthusiasm for the inner workings of interstellar transportation. “And I think you'll also find that the secret ingredient you are searching for is just plain dumb luck, Mr Marsh. By all rights this carrier should have been ripped apart.” He looked back to Griffin's navigator. “Mr Liu, from here how long would it take for us to return to Spirit?”
Liu frowned. “Under ideal circumstances? Roughly twelve, thirteen hours.”
“And with the engines in their current state?” Parks once again addressed the chief engineer.
“I would say we are looking at sixteen to twenty hours, if not a little longer,” Marsh said. “However, the engines aren't in a state where we could safely make another jump.”
“And how long before we can?”
“I've not had enough time to estimate the cost of the damage to all the dependent systems, sir.”
Parks sighed. “I realise that Mr Marsh, but I need the best answer you can give me.”
“I would reckon around nine hours.”
Parks nodded as he digested the information. They were looking at a time frame of more than a day before they were back at Spirit. If the ATAFs had not been aboard, he could have ordered they jump back to an Independent system. But he knew that such a move was not an option, since that could result in the discovery of the advanced starfighters by an Independent World state. The Confederation were already hard-pressed to keep the fighters under wraps, without dumping them in the middle of a random system for anyone to gawk at. They would just have to take their chances here.
“Okay,” Parks said to Marsh. “Begin the work as soon as this meeting is over. Now, I need the rest of you to find members of your respective teams who may be able to lend their skills to repairs and maintenance. I shouldn't need to reiterate to any of you that, in its current state, Griffin is a sitting duck. Most of her major systems are operational, but shielding is minimal and we have little in the way of offensive measures. We are also unable to deploy what remains of our starfighter complement easily; the cargo holds are simply not equipped to launch fighters at the rate we'd need to fend off attackers.”
He thought of the cargo holds. Whilst those holding the ATAFs contained nothing more than the five fighters themselves, the others were crammed full of Griffin's starfighters. Deploying them in an emergency would be next to impossible.
Those around the table appeared to all be in agreement with his plan, their eyes drifting from the holographic display, to the quiet space outside. The words “Imperial Space”, “Phylent” and “Griffin” were far too close together on the galactic map for anyone's liking; especially his own.
Parks continued his delegation. “I need a seventy-thirty split in duties for repairs to the jump engines and repairs to the flight deck. It is vital that we get out of this system and away from Imperial space as soon as possible; but it is just as important that, in the highly likely event that we are discovered by enemy forces, we are able to defend ourselves.”
“Yes, sir,” came the resounding answer from those assembled.
“Lieutenant Weathers, have you managed to contact either Ifrit or Leviathan?” he asked of a woman who was sitting further down the table.
Weathers, now working as communications officer in place of O'Donnell, flipped through some papers as she spoke. “We don't believe that Ifrit and Leviathan are within range. It does not appear that they followed us into the jump point and may not be aware of our current position. It is unlikely that they were able to follow us either, given the unstable nature of the jump point.”
It was as Parks had suspected: they were on their own. “Very well. Is there anything else?” Parks' query was met by head shakes and silence. “Then let's get to work immediately. We have a lot to do and very little time to spare. Get moving, people.”
As the staff officers left, Parks noticed that Weathers was hovering, waiting for everyone else to vacate the room.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” he asked once they were alone.
“An encrypted communication has come in from CSN HQ, sir.”
“From HQ? Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. It arrived just before the meeting.” Weathers seemed as surprised as he was.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll take it in my private office.”
Weathers nodded and left Parks to ponder the speed at which the Confederation Stellar Navy had succeeded in pinpointing his location, so soon after their recent accident.
* * *
Compared to the rest of the ship, Parks' private office was far more lavishly decorated. Wood panelling covered much of the cold, grey steel and a number of colourful ornaments were scattered here and there. A handful of small paintings hung on the walls, depicting Griffin and other vessels. Parks' eyes strayed to the painting of Dragon as he made his way to his desk and the commodore caught himself wondering of how different things might have been had their mission been a success.
Activating the computer screen at his desk, he saw the CSN message. The screen read,
Encrypted Message Received
FTAO: Commodore Elliott F. Parks
On either side of the greeting resided an image of a padlock, further emphasising that the message was secured. Parks tapped “Read” with his finger tip and was duly challenged to authentic his identity to the system, prompting him for a password, iris scan, and voice recognition. Both the iris scan and voice recognition took a number of attempts to verify. It appeared the system was still suffering. After a time, the message playback started.
“I hope this message finds you well, Elliott,” a grating voice began.
Parks
was stunned to see that he was looking at a video recorded by Admiral Turner. The picture and audio were suffering; he guessed it was a result of the damage to Griffin, rather than the message itself. He moved closer to the display, to listen carefully to what the Fleet Admiral had to say: right now, he could do with all the advice he could get.
Turner went on. “After you failed to return to Spirit with Commodore Hawke or Captain Meyers, we immediately began a galaxy-wide sweep. Luckily for us, it did not take very long to locate you. Since you arrived within a formerly inhabited Imperial system, we were able to detect Griffin quite quickly. In case you do not already know, you are in the Phylent system, close to the Imperial-Independent border.
“First of all, do not concern yourself with the outcome of your mission to retake Dragon. We both knew that this was never going to be an easy task to accomplish, and once again we have both been given a truly unpleasant reminder of the kind of enemy we are up against.”
Parks was in total agreement. He recalled how, when he had mentioned the appearance of Dragon within Independent World space and his plans to ambush and retake the massive battleship, the admiral had warned him of the risks. Though the admiral had given him his full backing at the time, Parks wished he hadn't been so hasty.
“Secondly, I understand that Griffin has been heavily damaged in battle,” the video message continued. “I have dispatched Meyers to your position, along with a number of repair and medical vessels. They will not be with you for several hours yet, so I need you and your boys to sit tight. Imperial space is certainly not a place you wish to find yourself adrift and defenceless.
“I shouldn't have to remind you either that whilst you are close to Independent World space, there will be no help coming from those frontier systems, since you should be more than aware that they have already been evacuated. Even if they could help, there would be great reluctance to do so, given the tremendous loss of life resulting from the destruction of the carrier support they laid on for us. I advise that we not seek to involve the UNF any further at this point. So, until Meyers arrives you're on your own out there and will just have to wait it out.”
Parks nodded once more, relieved to hear that Meyers would soon be there to assist them. He then noticed Turner sit more upright, leaning forward in his chair. Parks had seen that look on the man's face before; he swallowed.
“But having said that, your current location could not be more convenient. Regarding matters within the Temper system some seventy-two hours ago: intelligence have managed to locate the raider who fled the Cardinal just before its destruction and discovered him to be travelling around the Imperial frontier systems. He arrived in Phylent sometime ago, so it's likely he won't be hanging around too much longer.
“Special agent Barber has followed the man to Arlos starport, where he has been attempting to offload various items of his stock. This whole thing could have ended up as a wild goose chase, which would have been all the better for us, but unfortunately Barber has confirmed to me that the man does indeed have the entire dump of Cardinal's databanks in his possession. And that means he has the ATAF plans.
“At least we now know he has them and they haven't already fallen into unwanted hands. Right now, he is struggling to find a buyer and Barber is currently attempting to verify whether he has them about his person or has stowed them some place else.
“She planned to make her own way back to Confederation space once she has secured the data, but I imagine this could prove a lot trickier than she thinks. And that's not a gamble I'm willing to take. I don't know whether to call your accidental winding up in the Phylent system luck or fate, but I know that we need to get those plans back, ASAP.”
Parks was getting a bad feeling about what the admiral was about to suggest. He began scratching at the stubble on his chin as Turner's request continued to unfold.
“Therefore, I will need you to bring her home with you or, at the very least, the data. If you cannot bring her, don't worry. You and I both know she is more than capable of getting out of there herself. I would rather this is done whilst you await the arrival of Meyers, so you can depart the Phylent system as quickly as possible. We cannot risk losing yet another of our most powerful weapons to the Enemy and as such this should now be your number one priority. I'm sure that I shouldn't have to remind you that those plans are worth far more than every life on that ship.”
Parks groaned as the admiral's request set him on very awkward footing.
“This may be an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, Elliott. We can gain twice from this situation. With the Red Devils dead, we have to play catch up and an opportunity like this may not come by again any time soon, if ever. I have taken the liberty of transmitting the coordinates of Arlos starport to you, as well as extended intelligence concerning the Phylent system. I'm hoping you have all the information you need, since I do not recommend that you respond to this message. Although we still have a handful of comm relay points secreted around Imperial frontier systems, communications fed through subspace are minimal. Any increase in the tachyon streams could expose you to hostile tracking systems.”
Just as Parks began to wonder what had happened to Hawke in all of this, Turner answered his question.
“As for Commodore Hawke, he is much closer to your location than Meyers is. When he saw Griffin disappear into the jump point, with no clue as to your destination, Hawke took it upon himself to assume command. He ordered Meyers to return to Spirit to search for you there, whilst he took Ifrit to search all the star systems adjacent to Aster. He, like Meyers, is aware of your situation and that I have requested you perform a little errand for us before you are ready to return home. Neither of them, however, are privy to the full details of that errand, as I'm sure you can appreciate. Unless he runs into difficulties, or delivery of my instructions are delayed, you should expect Hawke to arrive at your location sooner than Meyers. If you are able, you should return to Spirit with him. Don't wait for Meyers, he will understand that you had to leave as soon as you were able. In such an event, we will let him know that you have been found and are returning home.
“There is more information attached in the brief I have included with this message. You will need to relay this information to the Knights. I realise that it does not paint the rosiest of pictures, but we need to make sure our bases are covered for all eventualities.
“Take care of yourself, Elliott. We'll see you soon,” Turner concluded. The message playback ended, and the screen displayed a number of icons, detailing the additional information that Turner had transmitted.
Parks sighed. At least one of his questions had been answered: the Confederation's comm points had sent information about Griffin's arrival in the system back to CSN HQ, via subspace channels - Turner had sent a message to the carrier in the same way. Though messages travelled far quicker through jump space than ships themselves, Parks was willing to bet that Griffin's most recent jump would give them a run for their money.
He stood up and paced beside the window. He knew what he had to do and didn't like it one bit. As the admiral had said, the ATAF plans were far more important than all of the lives aboard Griffin - in fact, more so than Griffin, Ifrit and Leviathan combined - and that fact terrified him.
He stared out the window at the endless void of space. Now that the blast screens had come down from the carrier's windows, Parks was able to make out a dull grey planet hanging all alone, not too far off. He did not need to consult a system map to know that that was where Turner needed him to go.
“Dammit,” he said in a low voice, placing a fist on the window and leaning against the glass. “There must be another way; there has to be a way for Barber to come to me, instead of us having to go to her.”
He racked his brains, giving full consideration to every possibility that he could think of, all the while staring towards the dull grey planet. But his attempts to find a workable solution all hit dead ends. Turner was right: he had little choice in the matter, a
nd whether he liked it or not he was going to have to send the ATAFs and the Knights to Arlos alone, and leave Griffin all but defenceless. And the sooner that was done, the sooner they could all get home.
With his mind made up, he turned back to the console and closed the message, before rounding his desk and striding out the door to make for the bridge.
XVII
— Of Cloaks —
Chaz continued watching the security team that guarded the entrance to the cargo bay. He had noticed a new face arrive earlier. The head of the security team had exchanged some brief words with the man before the pair had departed together. It did not seem to Chaz that anyone else had noticed; little details such as that were apparently lost on them.
Estelle was staring at the floor, looking quite glum, though he suspected that her current state owed more to sorrow than to being restricted to the hold.
“... gonna be a lot of weeping mothers after this one, I can tell ya,” one of the team's conversations had carried to the hold's current occupants.
“Tell me about it. They pulled out this one girl who had been buried under a collapsed ceiling. Legs were a complete mess. Even if she'd lived through that, she certainly wouldn't be using those again.”
“Not sure I'd take that over being spaced, myself.”
“Nice looking thing, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That's a shame.”
Chaz had noticed Estelle's expression change as the two men had spoken, the woman lowering her gaze to the floor.
“You all right, Estelle?” Dodds had asked sometime later.
“Just thinking.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, Simon.”
Simon. That was a name he didn't hear used all too often.
The head of security was now back, and speaking with the rest of his team. As he did so, he looked around the groups of people sat in the cargo hold, but mostly at the Knights. The other members of the security team were doing likewise. It was clear to Chaz that the man was discussing the Knights and he'd guessed what was going on well before Wyatt strode over to the five pilots.
The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (The Battle for the Solar System) Page 24
