by C H Gideon
As the Vorr warship died, the Solarian transport bearing the Metalheads lurched beneath Jenkins. The ship’s CO took evasive action as the Solarian escort ships moved to an interdictory position between the transport and the nearest cluster of engaged Jemmin, Vorr and Zeen warships.
Her maneuvers came not a moment too soon.
Stabbing into the space where the transport had been a half-second earlier, a Jemmin laser beam swept mere meters from the transport’s hull. Solarian void fighters scrambled immediately and moved to form a shield in front of the thin-hulled transport. Solar cruisers likewise moved to assume collision-close covering positions, but it would take them precious seconds to get into place.
Seconds it did not appear the Jemmin would grant them.
Another laser lanced across the transport’s stern as the ship’s pilot drove it toward their objective: the New America gate.
With chilling synchronicity, thirty-one Jemmin warships spread across two separate nearby engagements turned toward the transport.
“Inbound missiles,” the ship’s CO barked. “Time to impact, fifteen seconds. All hands, brace for impact!”
Oh shit! Jenkins silently swore as the Jemmin warships turned their full attention on the Solar convoy. It was one thing to ride a mech into battle, even knowing that the enemy outnumbered you, since you always had the opportunity to fire back. Or, even better, to fire first.
But riding a grav-couch on a civilian Solarian ship afforded him no such opportunities. Like the helpless passenger he was, he could only look on and trust that the Solarians knew what they were doing. That hope did not grant him peace of mind. To survive one battle only to be killed in another—it was the warrior’s way.
Laser beams carved into Solar cruisers and fighters alike, vaporizing the latter on contact and carving deep rents in the hulls of the former. Even in their deaths, the Solarian void fighters’ debris served to block and refract a significant portion of the lasers’ delivered energies.
But a weak strike on a thin-hulled ship like their transport was as bad as a direct hit on a heavily-armored warship.
The transport jerked violently beneath them, prompting the CO to call out with surprising calm, “Minor outgassing in Cargo Bay Two. Missile impact in six seconds. All hands, brace for impact! All hands, brace for impact!”
Jenkins gripped the couch’s handrails as the shock-absorbing gel finally filled the compartment. The transport lurched to starboard and began a pitched, corkscrewing dive. According to the helmet’s HUD, the ship pulled eight gees in that maneuver. Jenkins suspected the ship’s pilot had blown a cargo bay full of gas to augment the redlined engines in creating the surprisingly effective, essentially unpredictable maneuver.
Explosions rocked the ship, but they were muted and indirect rather than direct hits.
“Outgassing in Green Four,” the captain said calmly. “All personnel remain in your couches.”
Solarian ships achieved the defensive shell surrounding the transport, and beam after beam carved into their armored hulls as they soaked up damage intended for the transport bearing the Metalheads. Jenkins knew that no matter how close those Solarian ships got, they could never provide full coverage. Seeming to read his thoughts, the Jemmin sent a swarm of missiles into a pair of Solarian cruisers, punching a handful of holes through each of the human warships.
The cruisers fell out of formation, and the remaining Solarian ships did what they could to close the breach. But as a fresh wave of missile and laser fire came from the Jemmin ships, Jenkins suspected they wouldn’t even reach their journey’s mid-way mark before succumbing to Jemmin fire.
Then, with a unity of purpose rarely seen in joint military exercises, nearly every Vorr and Zeen ship in nearby space moved to intercept those thirty-one Jemmin warships.
Three hundred nonhuman warships suddenly abandoned all concern for their own safety in an effort to safeguard the transport’s journey back to Terran space. It was a humbling moment, but one which Jenkins was silently ashamed to realize was flavored with doubt regarding the Vorr and Zeen motives for such a seemingly selfless act.
A dozen Vorr and Zeen vessels quickly paid the ultimate price for their reorientation as their engines were expertly targeted by Jemmin fire in the seconds following the Vorr and Zeen course changes. Before those dozen nonhuman ships died, they sent a storm of ordnance at the offending Jemmin warships on an intercept course with the Solar convoy. Vorr and Zeen beams lanced out with precision, killing three Jemmin ships outright and badly damaging another two.
Vorr HVMs slammed into another four Jemmin warships, ignoring Jemmin counterfire and interceptor rockets as they tore through the void in pursuit of their targets. Zeen missiles flew in near-constant streams from their launchers, and while Jemmin counterfire sniped the majority of the inbound, the Zeen weapons that struck the mark did so with devastating effect. All told, the twelve Zeen and Vorr ships took eight of their Jemmin counterparts with them, and the twenty warships died within seconds of each other.
Then it was the rest of the three hundred warships’ turn to deliver their sentiment to Jemmin.
Lasers carved into the twenty-three Jemmin warships still in pursuit of the Solarian convoy. From stem to stern, each of the Jemmin warships was sliced by at least a handful of sweeping laser beams. Like surgery conducted by psychopaths with chainsaws, the Vorr and Zeen seemed to revel in crisscrossing the Jemmin hulls with their direct energy weapons.
The Solarians added their fire to the exchange, sending railgun bolts and missiles toward their mutual enemy. The slow-moving weapons, while certainly less potent than those of the Vorr, Zeen, or Jemmin, were nonetheless devastating to already-damaged targets. And what the Solarian guns lacked in accuracy, they more than made up for in volume.
Five Jemmin warships suffered Solarian railgun strikes, with tungsten bolts piercing Jemmin hulls like nails through cardboard. Solarian fusion-powered warheads surged toward their beleaguered Jemmin targets, which intercepted all but a handful with precise counterfire long before they could impact.
But those that did reach their targets were devastating when fifty megaton warheads erupted at collision range or, in one instance, directly on a Jemmin hull.
Mini-novas of energy flared into being amid the Jemmin formations, and one by one the Jemmin ships were scrubbed from the local sector by Vorr, Zeen, and Solarian fire. Within seconds, the red specks disappeared, and the board showed green in their immediate sector.
The costs to Zeen, Vorr, and Solarian forces were high. Of the fifty warships originally tasked with escorting the transport to Terran space, only thirty-two remained. And of the three hundred Vorr and Zeen ships that had moved to intercept the Jemmin before they could kill the convoy, eighty-seven had been destroyed or crippled for their efforts.
“I hope,” Deep Currents’ synthesized feminine voice came over Jenkins’ earpieces, “that this display of solidarity will alleviate some significant measure of the concern your people harbor regarding Vorr and Zeen intentions.”
As the firefight raged for control of Nexus-linked space, with warships dying every few seconds as the engagements quickly grew farther and farther apart and the intensity rapidly dropping off as a result, Jenkins gave the only reply he knew was both the truth and the political one to give.
“So do I.”
“On behalf of my people,” the Vorr delegate said, “I would like to extend a formal invitation for Sol to join the Vorr-Zeen-Terran alliance.”
“I can’t speak for Sol, Ambassador,” the ship’s captain replied, “but I can say it’s in my peoples’ best interests to secure allies at times like this, and also that it’s safe to assume we can remove the Jemmin as a potential ally given what we’ve learned and how they’ve conducted themselves here.”
“Your hesitance is understandable,” Deep Currents replied serenely. “Zeen Home Two, as they refer to the worldship now stationed near the gates shared by the Terran Republic and the Arh’Kel, has already sec
ured its local space and will provide ongoing protection against Jemmin hostilities. Sol’s gates are adjacent to Vorr and Finjou gates, which will require significantly greater effort to secure for obvious reasons. During this interval, Solar humanity should refrain from transit to and from the Nexus,” the Vorr said in what sounded dangerously close to an order, causing Jenkins’ jaw to set. “Nexus travel is too dangerous to be conducted as long as Jemmin forces maintain an antagonistic posture.”
“You sound confident that the Vorr can deal with the Jemmin here,” the captain challenged.
“We would not have instigated this conflict if we were uncertain of victory, Captain,” Deep Currents replied with her trademark poise. “Alone, none of us can destroy Jemmin, but together we believe it is possible to do just that. Vorr and Zeen forces are more than capable of driving Jemmin from the Nexus, and that is precisely what we will do. We suggest, for your own safety, that you grant us the opportunity to complete that important task before joint operations can commence in whatever mutually agreeable capacity our species devise. We suggest you remain in your home systems until we have secured the Nexus.”
Jenkins finally gave voice to his concern. “That sounds like a warning, Deep Currents.”
“Then my translators are functioning as desired,” the Vorr replied simply. “This war will require maximum efficiency from all involved parties. The Terran Republic has played an instrumental role in depriving Jemmin of its ability to manipulate younger races in furtherance of its agenda. Humanity will be significant in this war, but for now, your sacrifices are unnecessary. We will repel Jemmin, secure the Nexus, and then treat with your respective governments regarding future operations.”
Jenkins didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Dealing with the Vorr was well above his paygrade, so rather than sticking his foot in his mouth, he replied, “I’ll relay your message to my superiors.”
“Excellent,” Deep Currents replied, her voice filled with satisfaction.
The hours ticked by as the Solarian convoy escaped the embattled space surrounding the Solar gates. The Terran and Arh’Kel gates were situated on the far side of the gas giant that served to anchor more than half the Nexus gates. The Solarian, Vorr, and Finjou gates stood opposite, a long transit apart.
The journey was remarkably uneventful, although Jenkins’ eyes never wavered from the limited tactical display that showed the intensity of the firefights had died to a tiny fraction of the raging inferno that had greeted the Solarian convoy.
It seemed that the Vorr had timed the intense exchange specifically to cover the Solarian convoy’s arrival. Although Jemmin wanted to destroy Jenkins’ people before they could return to Terran space, it was equally focused on causing as much damage to the Vorr and Zeen forces as possible.
To Jenkins, that meant Jemmin was scared. Or, at the very least, not confident of victory against the combined Vorr-Zeen fleets.
As far as Jenkins was concerned, a healthy dose of fear was well-warranted after the fierce display put on by the Vorr and the Zeen.
Upon reaching the gate, Jem transmitted the same code used to unlock the Solarian gates.
But this time, traveling at the speed of light, the signal didn’t unlock one gate. It unlocked every gate in the Nexus.
The terminus gates one step removed from the Nexus would remain shut down until Jem’s code was locally transmitted to them. But like ripples on a pond spreading out from the transport’s position, the Nexus wormhole gates flickered back to life one by one until they were all reactivated.
It was a development that distressed the Jemmin forces in-system. They started to fly erratically, repositioning for the expected arrival of more enemies.
Twenty minutes later, the Solar convoy moved through the gate while transmitting command codes possessed by every single Terran officer aboard the thin-hulled transport.
Fortunately, Admiral Wallace accepted the credentials instead of immediately opening fire as he had done to the Jemmin gate-crasher.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Jenkins allowed himself a few moments to collect his thoughts. It was over. They were back in Terran space.
“Now the easiest part of the whole op.” He grunted, surprised to find himself believing the words as the gel inside his grav-couch slowly began to drain away. “The court-martial.”
23
The Court-Martial
“For a variety of reasons vital to the security of the Terran Republic, these normally closed-door proceedings will include a number of civilian and foreign representatives as both contributors and observers,” Admiral Zhao declared to the assembled throng inside the courtroom. “But let me make myself clear: this court-martial has been convened in accordance with Terran Armed Forces regulations, and as its officiator, I will demand a certain degree of decorum in my courtroom. Now, let’s be seated.” Admiral Zhao’s iron-hard voice cast a pall over the room as he assumed the central chair on the bench, prompting the officers flanking him to do likewise before the assembled crowd followed suit.
Jenkins and Xi exchanged brief, meaningful looks as they stood side by side before the court. It wasn’t unheard of for officers to be tried simultaneously but, given the nature of the charges, Jenkins was surprised they had opted to address them jointly. Jenkins’ gaze flicked to the lone empty chair on the bench. Of well-worn brown leather, with gold fittings and trim, it loomed over the proceedings like an absent parent at the dinner table.
General Akinouye’s chair, Jenkins thought, feeling equal measures of pride and loss as he imagined the old man once again filling the gaping void he had left behind.
Admiral Zhao followed Jenkins’ gaze and nodded approvingly. “Honor. Duty. Tradition. These words might not mean much to some, but to me, they are as vital as the air we breathe. Normally every seat on this court would be occupied by a representative from one of the Terran Armed Forces’ branches, but one chair remains empty.” He looked over at Akinouye’s vacant chair, emphatically pausing and causing all eyes to rest upon the vacant leather seat. “Recent events have conspired to prevent one of the Republic’s longest-serving branches from being formally represented at these proceedings. We will discuss those events,” he said, his gaze lingering on Jenkins with the weight of a neutron star, “since they have a direct bearing on the purpose of these proceedings.” He raised his voice commandingly. “Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jenkins and Captain Xi Bao have been brought before this court on charges of sedition, mutiny, dereliction of duty, willful disobedience of lawful orders, unauthorized deployment of Terran military assets in foreign space, and last, but certainly not least,” he smirked, “high treason. Do you understand the nature of these charges, Colonel?”
“I do, sir,” Jenkins replied firmly as all eyes swiveled in his direction.
Zhao turned his piercing gaze on Xi. “Do you understand the nature of these charges, Captain?”
“I do, Admiral,” she replied unflinchingly.
“Do either of you dispute, in principle, the validity of these charges?” Zhao pressed.
Jenkins and Xi remained at stiff-spined attention while simultaneously replying, “No, sir.”
“Then let’s begin.” Admiral Zhao gestured for them to be seated. For a moment, all Jenkins could focus on was the spindly silver microphone before him, which seemed so very much at odds with the warm, dark-wood panels of the courtroom’s interior. “Colonel Jenkins, without going into sensitive operational details, can you provide this court with a brief summary of Operation Antivenom’s objectives?”
Jenkins leaned fractionally forward. “Operation Antivenom was a covert mission with the objective of deploying a virtual weapon developed by Armor Corps personnel under the direction of General Benjamin Akinouye. The purpose of the weapon was to neutralize an ongoing Jemmin infiltration of the Solar One Mind network.”
“We have received sworn statements, along with substantial material evidence, from both Terran and Solar sources,” Zhao gestured to
the back of the room, where the Solarian delegation looked on with apparent impassivity, “corroborating that this was indeed the stated objective of Operation Antivenom. Who authorized Operation Antivenom?”
“General Akinouye was the operation’s author, Admiral,” Jenkins replied truthfully.
“General Benjamin Akinouye,” Admiral Zhao said matter of factly, “was the ranking member of the Terran Armor Corps branch of the Terran Armed Forces, and one of the longest-serving officers this Republic has had the privilege of fielding. He had previously held the posts of Field Marshal and Grand Commander Terran Ground Forces. As such, he was afforded certain authority and latitude shared by only a handful of TAF personnel. The most relevant of these was the ability to conduct compartmentalized covert operations under his sole authority if those operations were deemed of paramount importance to Terran security. Was Operation Antivenom conducted under such authority, Colonel Jenkins?”
“Yes, sir,” Jenkins acknowledged. “Operation Antivenom, and its predecessors Operation Brick Top and Operation Shiva’s Wrath, unofficially referred to as Operation Frozen Fire, were all conducted under General Akinouye’s Code Black authority.”
“Without going into details, were Operations Shiva’s Wrath, Brick Top, and Antivenom directly related to one another?” Zhao asked.
“Yes, sir,” Jenkins stated. “General Akinouye determined that each of these operations was essential to the others.”
“Who else knew this operation’s most sensitive details?” The admiral leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as a predatory glint flickered across his eyes.
“To my knowledge, General Mikhail Pushkin was apprised of every operational detail, as were Colonel Li, the Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s commanding officer, Colonel Moon, the Bonhoeffer’s Commander Intercept Group, my XO, Captain Xi Bao,” he gestured to Xi beside him, “and Chief Warrant Officer 4th Class Styles, my command’s intelligence officer.”
