Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died Page 12

   Precisely on time, all the lights went out, sirens wailing in the distance. Cordova was caught by surprise as much as the guards had been, but she raced across the building anyway, stumbling in the dark, relying on her memory to guide her to the window where Kani was waiting. She weaved around a guard, careful to keep out of her line of sight, taking full advantage of the chaos and confusion. The emergency lights should have activated by now, and she knew that no amount of skilled labor would keep them down for long.

   She hurled herself at the plastiboard, aiming for the core of the barricade, and heard a satisfying crack as she tumbled into the room, rolling with the fall and aiming her pistol at a shocked Kani, sliding across into the shadows as the lights flickered back on. A man walked through the door, rifle in hand, ready to fire, but she turned to him first, shooting him in the chest with a silenced bullet, shock filling the man’s eyes as he tumbled to the ground, clutching at the bloody wound in his heart.

   He smiled, glancing at the streets, and asked, “What kept you?”

   “Talk. And quickly.”

   “Commodore McKinnon is planning to sabotage the peace conference. She killed Kowalski, or at least ordered it, and had me confined here when I refused to go along with her little game. I have a feeling I was destined for a firing squad in the near future.” He looked out at the street, and said, “It’s only a matter of time before they realize what’s happened. We’ve got to get moving, and we’ve got to get moving now.”

   “And just how can I be sure I can trust you?”

   “Do you have a choice at this stage?” Taking a deep breath, Kani said, “I’m in here because I believe in the war we were fighting, and because I believe that the people deserve a chance to determine their ultimate destiny. I’m willing to fight for that, and I’m willing to die for that. As I think I have demonstrated on several occasions in the last few months.”

   “I guess you’re right.” She paused, then said, “If it comes to a firefight.”

   “Then I’ll do what I have to do.”

   “That’s all I ask. Where’s the Commodore?”

   “Probably still in closed session. He took over the President’s office, top floor.”

   “Then that’s where we’re going.” She stepped over the corpse, Kani snatching the rifle as they went, and sprinted down the corridor to the emergency stairs, jabbing the elevator control as she raced past. Kani glanced up at the security cameras, but she shrugged. Odds are they were being watched all the way, that the Commonwealth were sending people to intercept them, but there wasn’t anything they could do about that. All they had in their favor was speed, and they had to exploit that one advantage to the full.

   As they sprinted up the stairs, taking them four at a time in the low gravity, she heard voices from below, the crack of a bullet flying past her and slamming into the wall. She spun around, firing three shots in quick succession to send their pursuers diving for cover, then continued her ascent, Kani now in the lead as they raced to warn the Commodore. She pulled out her communicator, knowing that secrecy was lost, but a red light flashed on as she tried to open the channel. They were jamming her, something she should have expected.

   Her greatest fear was that someone would have beaten her to the suite, but as she bounded up the stairs, she saw a pair of guards racing along the corridor at the top, both felled by a pair of precise shots from Kani that ended any possible doubt about where his loyalties lay. Finally, she vaulted over the dying men, shoving into the door beyond. It refused to budge, locked tight.

   “Watch the corridor,” she said. “I’ve got this.” She fired three shots into the mechanism, and the door reluctantly slid open, Saxon and Curtis in the room beyond, a half-eaten takeout dinner between them, both of them with weapons pointed at the door.

   “What the hell is going on?” Curtis said. He looked out into the corridor, and said, “Who?”

   “The Commonwealth,” a panting Cordova said. “They’re out to sabotage the conference. Kill or capture the delegates and destroy the fleet in orbit. That’s the basic idea, anyway. All communications are jammed, but Schmidt’s sitting on a shuttle that ought to get us to safety. I hope.”

   “You hope?” Saxon asked.

   “Look, I didn’t have time to prepare a formal battle plan. I’m winging it here.”

   “Gabi!” Kani yelled. “Company coming!” He dived through the door seconds ahead of a barrage of gunshot, and Saxon toppled the table on instinct, hurling herself into the cover and dragging Curtis after her, while Cordova slid to the side of the door, pistol in hand, slamming a fresh clip into the weapon.

   “Commodore,” the voice of McKinnon said, barking through the overhead speaker. “We know you’re up there, and we know you have company. I don’t want to have to give the orders that will kill you. I just want to talk.”

   “I’ll save you the trouble,” Curtis replied. “I have no intention of cooperating with whatever your plans might be, and I certainly don’t intend to be some sort of puppet ruler of a tyrannical Empire. My people already know all about your little plan, and they’re getting warmed up to kick you butt from here to Orion, so I suggest you stand down right away.”

   “Nice try, Commodore, but I’ve had communications jammed for an hour, and we know that you don’t have any friends outside. You are surrounded on every front, and I can storm that room just as soon as I want.”

   “Feel free,” Cordova replied. “Just have the body bags standing by. You’re going to need them.”

   “Undoubtedly, Major, but then, I’m not in any hurry. Any moment now, the fighting in orbit will begin, and I’m confident that you’ll change your mind when the dust settles. Our way is the only way that makes sense, and eventually, you’ll realize that. Or I’ll be forced to order you brought down, but I have time on my side. Yours is almost out. Don’t try and escape. You won’t like the consequences. McKinnon out.”

   “Options?” Saxon asked.

   “Slim and none,” Cordova replied. “I’ve got nine rounds left, and Win’s got half a clip in that rifle. I think they’ve got us beat.”

   Curtis looked at the window, smiled, then said, “Maybe. I’ve got an idea.”

  Chapter 18

   Mike looked at Titan, slowly rotating on the viewscreen, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of trajectory plots on the screen as he labored to concoct some sort of a battle plan. He glanced at the communications technician, receiving nothing but a quick shake of the head in response. Part of him yearned to get into a shuttle, to head down to the surface for himself, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. His place was here, commanding the fleet, at least until he was relieved by his father.

   While he was waiting, he looked over the sensor readings from Xerxes again. Something had been nagging at him, something anomalous in the data, and he punched controls to examine her systems, going through every power signature, every reading. Finally, it hit him. They’d repaired her with Federation components, not Commonwealth. The exiles had been forced to improvise replacement equipment over the years, lacking the industrial capacity to properly maintain their ships. Somehow, suddenly, they’d received a sufficient influx of materiel to bring one of their warships back into the firing line, just when it seemed it might no longer be needed. Suspicions multiplied in his mind, fears of what those components might mean.

   Ortiz was still leaning over the tactical console, reaching over the technician’s shoulder to activate the controls, a growing frown on his face as he worked the systems, trying to conceal their actions while preparing the ship for the imminent conflict they both feared.

   “We can’t hold alert status for much longer,” he said, “or someone’s going to notice.”

   “I don’t think we have to,” Petrova replied, looking at the communications console. “Getting reports from the surface now. Some sort of trouble down there, reports of power failure and some sort of gunfight ta
king place close to the peace conference.”

   “Battle stations,” Mike ordered. “Contact the rest of the fleet and have them follow suit. Prepare to launch fighters when I give the command.” He looked at the display, and said, “We’re not the only ones to be moving. Look at the Commonwealth squadron. They’re all converging on each other, and I doubt they’re planning a cocktail party.”

   “Mike,” Ortiz warned, “That’s four ships against four, and a lot of key personnel are down on the surface. We’re going to struggle if it comes to a battle.”

   “I know,” he replied. “I know. Contact all civilian ships, inform them that they are to clear the battlespace right away. Then hail Commodore McKinnon, or whoever is in charge over there, and inform them that I want to speak to them at once on an encrypted channel.”

   Raising an eyebrow, Petrova replied, “They’re already hailing us. Laser signal from the top of the tower, high-level encryption. It’s McKinnon.”

   “Then let’s hear what she has to say.”

   He walked over to the helm as the image of the Commonwealth commander appeared on the screen, Admiral Crawford and Admiral Hancock standing behind her, technicians swarming about in their rear. That the Commonwealth and the Federation were apparently working together was a shock, and Ortiz glanced at him in alarm as the realization of the odds they were now facing struck home.

   “Who’s your spokesman?” Mike asked. “And where’s the Chairman? I’d have expected that he would have been front and center at your little party.”

   “The Chairman no longer speaks for the people of the Federation,” Hancock said. “I don’t believe that he ever truly did, I fear. This isn’t what it appears to be.”

   “Then by all means, do enlighten me. I’m fascinated.” He glanced across at the sensor display, saw the Federation ship moving into formation with the Commonwealth squadron as his ships moved into position to face them, two mighty warfleets staring at each over across the void.

   “The conference has failed,” McKinnon said. “It never had a chance, but that failure provides us with an opportunity to build something greater from the ruins. It must be obvious to you that a strong, stable government is needed if we are to repair the damage that this conflict has inflicted, and only the military will be able to provide such a government in the near future.”

   “Over the dead bodies of my crew,” he replied.

   “Not at all. Join us, Commodore. Take your place in the new government as an equal partner, and we can work together to build something better and stronger than we had before, a truly fair and free society.”

   “Seems that I’ve heard those words before,” he said. “During the Revolution. At least they took a little longer to compromise their principles than you have.” Shaking his head, he replied, “You obviously don’t know me very well if you believe for a single second that I will cooperate with this scheme, collude with a military coup.”

   “We have your father, Major Saxon, Major Cordova, Commander Schmidt and Wing Commander Kani hostage,” Crawford replied. “Their survival depends on your next action.”

   “Each and every one of them would be willing and ready to die if it meant defeating the tyranny you propose to impose upon us, Admiral. Though thank you for making the level of your morality crystal clear for all to see. You’re only making my decision easier.”

   “Think about what you are doing, Commodore,” Hancock said. “We have five ships to your four, and strategic superiority. Your commanding officer is our prisoner, and will be executed the moment you open fire. Then what happens to your people? You’re going to die, die and be forgotten, while we build the future.”

   Looking around the bridge, Mike replied, “My people all chose to serve because they wished to fight against tyranny. Because they believe in the possibility of a better future for all. Because they were tired of serving an unjust government more concerned with oppressing its people than with giving them the help and support it needed. Even if I was venal enough to issue such an order, none of them would obey it. I have no intention of betraying either them or my cause.” Taking a step forward, he added, “I give you sixty seconds to stand down and release your hostages, or I will be forced to take immediate offensive action. Castro out.”

   “I hate to say it, Mike, but the man has a point,” Ortiz replied, walking towards the command chair. “We’re outgunned and outmanned, and they’ve already taken a prime defensive position. They have the advantage, not us.” Turning to Petrova, he continued, “And he’ll kill all the hostages at the first opportunity, which I suspect includes your father.”

   Nodding, the helmsman said, “We could leave, sir. We’re close enough to the gravitational threshold to make a run for it, try and regroup at Hyperborea or Sinaloa. We don’t have to fight this battle, Commodore. Not against these odds.”

   Turning to Petrova, Mike asked, “What do you think, Lieutenant?”

   She smiled, looked at the viewscreen, and said, “Do what feels right, Mike. Your instincts have been good so far, every time. I’ll trust them once more to see us through to the end of this.”

   “Sensors,” Mike said, “What’s the story out there?”

   “All the civilian ships are scattered to hell and gone, Commodore. We’re going to get a clean battlespace this time. Nothing in the way.” Looking down at her systems, she added, “We are being actively probed, sir. No other change to target aspect. They’re still moving on a course to provide mutual support.”

   Nodding, he looked around the bridge, then said, “Communications, put me through to the fleet. I want everyone to hear us. And the enemy ships as well, if you can. We ought to be able to patch through to their internal communications network. Maybe we might change a few minds.”

   “Aye, sir,” he replied. “One minute.”

   “What are you going to do, Mike?” a nervous Ortiz asked.

   “What we have to do, old friend. Only that, and nothing more.”

   “Channel open, sir,” the technician said.

   “All hands, attention. This is the Commodore,” he began. “The Commonwealth and Federation forces have betrayed the ceasefire, and are preparing to launch an attack on our formation. It is only fair to tell you that we are facing superior odds, that the enemy is in a prepared defensive position, and that they hold many of our people hostage on the surface. They have offered me a chance to withdraw from the fight, either to switch sides and betray the cause for which we have all fought these last months, have already risked our lives to win, or to leave the system and refuse action at this time.”

   “I do not intent to accept either of their kind offers. I treat their suggestion that I should join their cause with nothing more than the contempt it deserves. We’ve gone too far to go back now. Nor am I willing to concede battle. If we allow the enemy formation time to recover, they will employ Earth’s orbital shipyards in order to construct a battle fleet to wipe us from the stars, giving up everything we have won up to this point.”

   “My intention is to attack and destroy the enemy, whatever it costs. And that cost will be grave. Many of us will die in the fight that it is come, and many of our ships and fighters will be destroyed. Without a doubt, this will be our last battle, and I am determined to make it a good one. This is the time, and the place, where we make our stand for freedom, and for liberty. Wing Commander Kowalski already died for that freedom, murdered by his own people on Titan. We can do no less than he.”

   “Take a good look around you, at the men and women you are fighting along side. Remember their names, remember their faces, because people will be talking about the battle we are going to fight today after we are long turned to dust, whatever the outcome. The eyes of the future are upon us. I know that we aren’t going to let them down, and I am proud to serve with each and every one of you. Good luck, good hunting, and I will see you all on the other side. Curtis out.” He looked at Ortiz, and aske
d, “Any complaints?”

   “Not a one, sir. We might go down, but we’re going to take a lot of those bastards with us.” He paused, then said, “Your father?”

   “He’s lived through worse than this before. I’m not counting him out yet, but there’s nothing we can do to help him now. Communications, try punching through to the planet while you can, but focus on our tactical net. Firm up all fleet firewalls. Any sign of activity from the enemy fleet?”

   “Holding position, sir.”

   Nodding, he said to Ortiz, “Let’s get...”

   “No,” his friend replied, a smile on his face. “You said it yourself. This is the last battle. That chair’s yours. I never really felt that comfortable sitting in it, anyway.”

   Mike looked at Ortiz, nodded, and sat in the command chair, all eyes watching him as he settled into place, a smile on his face. The enemy formation were still waiting, daring him to attack, watching to see what he would do next. Conceding the initiative was a mistake he was going to make sure they regretted, no matter what might happen in the battle to come.

   “Helm,” he said, “Intercept course, maximum acceleration. Tactical, I want a firing solution with our primary armament as soon as our weapons come to bear. Contact Trotsky, and inform them that we’re going to lead the way in this one. Maybe we can draw some fire off Polaris and Regulus.” As the engines roared into life, he added, “Scramble all fighter squadrons, inform them that they have my permission and approval to fire at will.”

   “Aye, aye, sir,” Ortiz replied, moving to the Executive Officer’s station. Petrova walked forward standing by his side, and he looked up at her with a smile.