Shall Not Perish (Lincoln's War Book 1) Page 10

   “This is unbelievable,” Petrov said. “I’ve never seen a ship like this in my life. How many fighters can you operate out of here?”

   “Are either of you in need of medical assistance?” Forrest asked.

   “No, thank you, Captain,” Volkova replied. “Based on the conversations I’ve had with Lieutenant Flynn, I think we need to talk, quietly and privately.”

   Nodding, Forrest gestured towards a door next to the elevator, and said, “Chief, can we use your office for a minute?”

   “Help yourself, skipper,” Wong replied. “I’m not likely to see the inside of it any time soon, anyway.” Looking at Petrov, he asked, “Engineer?”

   “Shuttle technician,” the Zemlyan replied.

   Forrest looked at Volkova, and said, “We’re short-handed, so if you’ve no objection...”

   “Not at all,” Volkova replied. “I suspect Sergeant Petrov will find it most informative.”

   “Then by all means, Sergeant. Flynn, you’re with me. McBride, make sure we aren’t disturbed. I don’t want anyone within five feet of the door.”

   “I understand, ma’am,” the gunner replied. He looked at Flynn, and said, “When you go down, I’m along for the ride. That kid’s my division chief, and I kinda feel responsible for him.”

   “Nobody I’d rather have watching my back,” Flynn replied, following Forrest and Volkova into the cramped office. Forrest took the single chair, leaving the others standing in front of the battered desk. Flynn glanced at Volkova, and said, “Captain, how long have you known that we’ve been thrown forward in time?”

   Taking a deep breath, Forrest said, “We didn’t know anything conclusive, Lieutenant. Only that something was wrong. The reason Commander Singh isn’t down here is that he’s working with one of our sensor techs to try and get a definitive answer. Given the circumstances that brought us here, we were rather hoping that all of this might turn out to be some sort of PacFed trick.”

   “PacFed?” Volkova asked.

   “Christ, it was all over centuries ago, wasn’t it,” Flynn said, shaking his head. “Just out of interest, who won the war?”

   “Which war?”

   “Between the United States and the Pacific Federation,” he pressed.

   “I don’t know,” Volkova replied.

   “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

   “Lieutenant,” Forrest said, quietly, “Who won the Thirty Years War?”

   Flynn turned to her, and replied, “I haven’t the first idea.”

   “That’s as long ago to us as our war was to her.”

   “I do know that the Terrestrial Federation formed in the first half of the 22nd century, following the end of the Nationalist Wars. I think I remember that they lasted for a couple of centuries, but I didn’t specialize in history.”

   “A couple of centuries?” Shaking her head, Forrest said, “I guess we’ll have time to crack open the history books sooner or later. What happened next? Who are these Guilders? If we’re fighting a war with someone, it’d be nice to know something about them other than the name.”

   “The Federation era lasted for a couple of hundred years, and saw expansion to a few hundred systems, and the beginning of the terraforming projects. Zemlya was one of the worlds chosen, along with a couple of dozen others. It all came to an end in the Civil War, the colonies against the Federation. Finally, Earth was destroyed.”

   Forrest’s face fell, and she said, “Destroyed?”

   “Effectively. By that point, a lot of the old nation-states had reformed, and took sides in the war. The Antarctic Alliance fired the first shots, but by the time the dust settled, something like twenty thousand nuclear detonations had taken place. There weren’t many survivors, and the few that lived through the bombardment fled to the stars. After that, well, it all fell apart. The wars continued for another half century, and interstellar trade and commerce pretty much collapsed. There never was a formal peace treaty. Nobody left to sign it, but the last serious fighting ended more than a hundred years ago.”

   Flynn sat on the desk, his face pale, and he said, “Earth is gone? I figured it would be bad enough, thrown this far forward, but that at least I’d get a chance to go home, see whatever was left.”

   “You wouldn’t live for more than a day, even after this long. We sent an expedition there about thirty years ago, soon after we rediscovered the hyperdrive, and they didn’t bring back a happy report.” She paused, and added, “Two of them didn’t come back at all. Decided to die on their homeworld. I guess they still figured Earth was home, even after all this time.”

   Forrest looked up, desperation in her eyes for the first time, and said, “How am I going to tell the crew? How do I break that to them?” She reached for her communicator, and said, “Commander Singh and Chief Warrant Officer Valdez to the hangar deck on the double.”

   “What about Zemlya?” Flynn asked. “And the Guild?”

   “After the destruction of Earth, we took in many refugees, and made conscious decision to decline gracefully. We withdrew from our interstellar obligations, and rather than desperately attempting to hold onto something we couldn’t sustain, we concentrated on our industrial base. Which meant that our Dark Age was swift, and resulted in little technological regression. We managed to hold onto our knowledge, even if we couldn’t make much use of it for a while. And we retained orbital spaceflight, which gave us a major advantage later on.”

   “And finally made your way back to the stars.”

   “We weren’t the first. Unfortunately. That’s where the Guild comes in. They’re the remnant of the old Federal megacorporations, all merged together into a single mass. Originally, they simply intended to attempt to maintain interstellar civilization, but the good intentions rapidly became a tyrannical reality. They have a stranglehold on a few dozen systems, and whenever someone comes into view, they try and stamp them down, obtain a monopoly on interstellar flight, and effectively taking control of any government that has spacefaring ambitions. Zemlya is somewhat out of the way, but our expedition to Earth brought unwanted attention.”

   “How long have you been at war?” Flynn asked.

   She paused, then said, “That might not be the best way of putting it. They’ve been pushing us harder and harder for years, trying to prevent us from expanding back out into the stars, but six months ago they captured one of our freighters, heading out towards Erebus, and took the crew. Eighty-five of us, all sent to one of their slave worlds. This one, specifically. That was the last step.” Shaking her head, she added, “We’re not prepared for a fight, but they’ve been sabotaging our shipbuilding, infiltrating our homeworld. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to turn traitor.”

   Taking a deep breath, she added, “My ship’s assignment was to prepare the way for the arrival of a task force. Two destroyers and a heavy transport, one large enough to rescue everyone on the planet. Frankly, we were hoping to hit the Guild hard enough to discourage them from attacking us again, buy us time to clean house and get some more ships onto the line. If this mission fails, the government will almost certainly collapse, and the pro-Guild party will win the resultant elections. And Zemlya becomes one more world under the control of the Guild.”

   As the door slid open to admit Singh and Valdez, Forrest’s communicator chirped, and she opened the channel, saying, “Captain here.”

   “Kirkland, Captain. We’ve had a signal from the surface, for the commander of this ship. They don’t seem to know much, but they have identified us as a ship of the United States Space Force. I guess they got that from Romano.”

   “Name, rank and serial number, at a guess,” Singh said. “That kid won’t talk. Certainly not in the few minutes they’ve held him.” He paused, smiled, then added, “Or they looked at the side of the fighter, thinking about it.” Turning to Volkova, he said, “Commander Singh. And this is Chief Warrant Officer Valdez,
Ship’s Chaplain.”

   “You carry a priest on board?” Volkova said, shaking her head.

   “Patch the surface contact through, Kirkland. Let’s hear what they have to say.”

   The overhead speaker crackled into life, and a dour, mechanically-altered voice, began, “This is the Governor of Enkidu. Am I speaking to the commander of the American vessel in orbit.”

   “You are,” Forrest replied, looking at Volkova. “I’m going to make this nice and simple. One of my shuttles will land at a spot of my choosing within the hour, under fighter escort, and you will transfer Lieutenant Romano over to her crew, unharmed and unimpeded. After that, we will depart, and you need never hear from us again.”

   “Your ship is crippled, Captain, and the Guild claims sovereignty over all former United States territory, which includes that ship of yours. I will make you a better offer, which will include provision for the safety of your crewman. Turn over your ship to us immediately, and I will offer you a replacement vessel from our own fleet, a heavy freighter which you can use to go wherever you wish.”

   “Governor, if you are planning to insult me...”

   “Not at all. All good negotiators ask for more than they expect to get. I will offer instead for you to transfer your allegiance to the Guild. As I indicated, we are the inheritors of all American military equipment, under the terms of contracts signed between one of our parent companies and the regional Continental Assembly in 2185. Legally, your ship belongs to us in any case.” He paused, and added, “You are alone in a hostile universe, stranded out of your own time. I offer you friendship, and a place to make repairs, as well as opportunities for the survival of your crew.”

   “And Lieutenant Volkova?”

   “We would expect you to release both her and her companion into our custody. They’re wanted on a number of severe violations of Guild law, including murder. Dangerous criminals. Frankly, I’ll be doing you a favor if I take them off your hands.”

   Singh frowned, and said, “He wants you, Lieutenant. That much is obvious.”

   Nodding, Volkova quietly added, “Captain, you’ve been thrown into this situation, and I will quite understand if you want to get out of it. Offer to trade me for your officer. I suspect he’ll agree, and honor will be satisfied.”

   Forrest looked up at her, and said, “You would do that willingly?”

   “Under the circumstances, I would.”

   Picking up the microphone, Forrest said, “Governor, go to hell. Out.” She closed the channel, and sat back on her chair with a smile on her face, adding, “I don’t take orders from tin-pot despots, and I will not turn this ship over to someone who would use it to extract slave labor from innocent worlds. Lieutenant, when does your task force arrive?”

   “In about six hours.”

   “Work with Commander Singh to put together some sort of battle plan. I want options on the table for the defeat of the enemy force on the surface, and the recovery of the slaves they are holding prisoner. You’d better assume that they’ll fight to the end. I will also require all the information you can give us on the strength and disposition of their forces.”

   Looking at Flynn, Volkova said, “You’re going to help us?”

   “At least this far, Lieutenant. Let’s complete this mission to begin with, and we can work out the rest of the details later on. Do you agree to those conditions?”

   “Of course, Captain,” she said, a beaming smile on her face.

   “Lieutenant Flynn,” Forrest continued, looking across at the pilot. “What is your opinion of Lieutenant Mendez as a squadron leader?”

   Flynn’s eyes widened, and he replied, “From what I’ve seen of her, Captain, excellent.”

   “Good. Then I presume you’ll be making use of her in that role.” She glanced at Singh for a moment, and said, “It’s been six years since Lincoln has had anything other than a temporary Wing Commander. You’ll be following in some pretty illustrious footsteps, but I’m convinced that you are the best choice for the job. That is, of course, if you accept.” The dazed pilot nodded, and she continued, “Excellent. I think we can assume your promotion to Lieutenant Commander. Your first responsibility is to get the rest of the fighters operational, and to put together some sort of a roster of pilots. Take anyone you need.”

   “Captain,” Valdez said, “We’re going to have to tell the crew the truth. The longer we wait, the worse it will be. Our calculations...”

   “There’s more,” Forrest said. “Much more. You’ll get it with the rest of them. Any recommendations?”

   “Be honest, be direct, be brief, and give them something to do. Don’t give them a chance to think about the situation they’re in, not until we’ve got plenty of time to deal with the problems.” Turning to Volkova, he asked, “I hope you have an excess of psychiatrists on your planet. We’re going to need them.”

   “One more thing, Captain,” Singh said. “Give me a moment to warn Doctor Holland to get his people spread throughout the ship. There are going to be more than a few people needing tranquilizers when you make your announcement to the crew.” He frowned, then added, “There’s no doubt any more, is there?”

   “None. Alex, I’m going to need you to make yourself available. I know that your profession restricts you from passing on information, but I trust you to ensure that any members of my crew who find themselves in need...”

   “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll get Dutch to set me up with some of his happy pills. That’s only going to help in the short-term, though. Long-term, they’re going to have to sink or swim by themselves. Though I’ll do everything I can to help them, of course.”

   Looking at her watch, Forrest said, “I’ll give you ten minutes, then make the announcement. Make for your normal duty stations. How’s Clayton taking it, Commander.”

   Singh looked down at the deck, and said, “Under sedation in his quarters, Captain. There could be a few dozen like that in a few minutes.”

   Nodding, she replied, “I know, but I can’t postpone this any longer.” With a thin smile, she turned to Volkova and added, “I ought to thank you, Lieutenant. For giving my crew something to focus on other than their own problems.”

   “Do you want me to stay, skipper?” Singh asked.

   “No,” she said. “I need you on the bridge, and I think I’ve got to do this by myself. Thank you, though, Vik.”

   “Any time,” he replied.

   “Dismissed,” she said, and the officers left the room, Flynn with a brief backward glance, leaving her alone. She picked up the microphone, and prepared to make the hardest speech of her life.

  Chapter 12

   McBride walked over to the nearest deck gang, grabbing a toolkit from one of the wall lockers and making his way to Wong. The Chief barely looked up from his datapad before gesturing at one of the Vulture fighters on the far side of the room, a pair of young technicians struggling with the forward proton cannon. Grimacing, McBride nodded, making his way to the designated ship as Wong left the room, muttering furiously under his breath.

   “Lopez?” he asked looking at the woman trying to wrestle an auxiliary capacitor out of its housing. “What are you doing down here?”

   “All hands on deck to get the fighters operational,” she replied. “Captain’s orders.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead, and added, “I haven’t done anything like this since Basic. Apparently we want the whole fighter wing operational as fast as possible.” Turning to McBride, she asked, “What was it like down there?”

   “One dead rock’s the same as another,” he replied, tugging open an inspection hatch. “The Captain’s right, though. One of our people’s down there, and we’ve got to get him back. And from what I heard about the bad guys, they need their ass kicking, hard.”

   “Who are we fighting?” another rating, Schneider, said. “PacFed got some friends out there?” Shaking his head, he said, “We ought to
be heading back in, link up with the rest of the fleet, not waste our time out here.”

   “Maybe you weren’t paying attention,” McBride said. “One of our people is being held down there. And I’d be screaming to get him back even if it was you.”

   “I’m just saying...”

   “Pipe down,” McBride pressed. Before he could continue his retort, a thin wail came from the overhead speakers, and the voice of Kirkland echoed through the room.

   “All decks, attention. Stand by for the Captain. I repeat, stand by for the Captain.”

   After a moment, the weary voice of Forrest began, “This is the Captain.” There was a pause, and she continued, “Before I begin, let me stress clearly that everything I am about to tell you has been confirmed and verified. There is no doubt, repeat, no doubt about any of it. I want to make that clear.”

   “Christ,” Schneider said. “We’ve lost the war. The bastards bushwhacked us.”

   “Quiet,” Lopez hissed.

   “As you all know, we were attacked by a squadron of cruisers from the Pacific Federation, a task force that hoped to catch Third Fleet by surprise. We managed to get in their way, and triggered an overload of our hyperdrive, designed to destroy the bulk of the enemy fleet. To the best of our knowledge, we were entirely successful, and I can reassure you now that the Battle of New Dover was a victory, albeit an expensive one.”

   “That’s more like it,” one of the shuttle technicians said, attracting glares from the rest of the deck gang.

   “Going into the battle, I was aware that the odds of our survival were minimal. We all were. And when I made the decision to trigger the hyperspace overload, it was in the sure knowledge that we would not survive the experience. My judgment was that trading our ship for those of the enemy, giving Third Fleet a chance to survive, was a good deal. I still maintain that. Let me stress, ladies and gentleman, that we were dead. And yet, somehow, we survived. We were at the heart of the hyperspace rift we created, a rift that we fell into, transiting in a manner never before known.”