Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died Page 3

   Rescue pods and shuttles tumbled free of the doomed ships, fleeing under the protection of the particle beams, firing pulses of energy to guarantee safe passage through the onslaught now being unleashed by eight ships, even the limited offensive armament of Mike’s squadron coming into play at last to add to the ongoing mayhem, scoring critical hits on the Federation ships. His heart sank as he saw the battered, twisting hulks fighting for their survival, knowing deep inside that he could easily have been commanding one of them, that the people on board were wearing the same uniform as he, that many of them would have been friends and comrades from past assignments, now doomed to destruction by his actions.

   Nevertheless, he could not, would not regret them. What they were doing was right, and he hung onto that with all he could as he watched the Federation ships die, one after another, a trio of brief flares in the night, each ending only with a slowly expanding cloud of debris, a few fortunate shuttles and escape pods fleeing the wreckage in time. The last lurched around, as though hoping to press one final attack, gain a last measure of revenge for its death, but a salvo from Regulus caught her amidships, cracking her in twain, sending the tumbling remains drifting through space for all time.

   Less than five minutes after it had begun, the Battle of Titan was over. Earth lay ahead, waiting.

  Chapter 4

   “Good God,” Curtis said, watching the devastation unfold on the screen. “I want rescue shuttles in the air on the double. Let’s get the survivors to safety.” Turning to Rojek, he added, “All fighters are to be rearmed and refueled as soon as they hit the deck. I want to be ready for another battle as rapidly as possible.”

   “Aye, sir,” he replied, frowning. “I’m not picking up any other defenses in local space, Teddy. Nothing at all. The enemy fighters are moving into a holding orbit, keeping well clear of our forces, but that’s it. And no sign of any other ships on any other vector. Perseus is holding position in Earth orbit. They haven’t even twitched.”

   “That’s odd,” Saxon said, stepping over to the sensors. “I’d have assumed they’d have run for free space. There’s nothing much we could have done to stop them, not at this distance, and they’d have an easy ride to the Halo Worlds.” Turning to the communications panel, she asked, “Spaceman, are we getting any signals from anywhere?”

   “Nothing coherent, ma’am,” he replied. “Lots of chatter from the surface, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone actually in charge down there at the moment. The Martian Provisional Government contacted us a few minutes ago, but they’ve already changed Acting Presidents three times in the last quarter-hour.”

   “We’re going to need to move quickly on this, Teddy, or we might end up with little civil wars on every planet in the system,” Saxon warned. “I’d recommend we start to disperse the fleet, see if we can encourage them to settle on at least some sort of provisional leadership. Someone’s got to keep the lights on and the air circulating, if nothing else.”

   “Not yet,” Curtis replied. “Bring the fleet into battle formation, and take us into orbit over Titan. I want to keep all three cruiser squadrons together for the moment, until I can be absolutely sure that we’re not under imminent threat of attack. This all seems a little too easy for my liking at the moment.” He glanced at the sensor display, and added, “I want to speak to the senior surviving officer of the destroyed ships as soon as it can be arranged.”

   Running through the casualty lists, Rojek replied, “Looks like that’s the Admiral himself, sir. The last pod to leave Aquarius before she was destroyed. With luck like that he ought to be playing the lottery. I’ve got him on top priority recovery.” He looked across at a readout, and added, “No sign of any rescue teams coming from the surface. Nothing from the Governor’s Residence for the last ten minutes, actually, but we’re still getting word of riots in progress.” A smile curled his lips, and he added, “You can add Mercury to the list of rebel worlds now. That came out of nowhere. Looks like local ColSec forces switched sides at the last minute.”

   “We’re going to have to watch that,” Saxon added. “A lot of those who waited this long will only be defecting out of fear, not loyalty to our cause. They’ll be hoping to save their own skin first, and accumulate power and influence in the new regime second.”

   “And you aren’t?” Hudson replied.

   Turning to her with a withering gaze, Saxon answered, “If you are unaware of my loyalties now, Commander, then I fail to see what else will convince you. Though I will note that my active involvement in the Resistance precedes yours by several weeks.”

   “Before which you were a Commonwealth double-agent.”

   “Some other time!” Curtis snapped. “Spaceman, contact the Central Committee, direct. Punch through any blockages you can, but send this message. Rebel forces control everything in Sol System. I will be forced to attack Earth itself in a matter of hours, and I see no way of doing that without inflicting heavy civilian casualties. I ask for your surrender, and am willing – for the moment – to discuss terms. Any delay will force me to demand unconditional surrender. Send that.”

   “Aye, sir,” the technician replied.

   “You’d offer terms?” an astonished Hudson asked.

   “If saving the life of a couple of bureaucrats saves five million people in Earth orbit, Commander, then I’ll call that a good deal and cheap at the price. They’re broken, and they know it. Right now they still have bargaining chips I care about, but I’ll launch a full-scale attack if they leave me no alternative.”

   “Do you really think they’ll listen to you?” Hudson asked. “They don’t care about their people. You know that.”

   “They care about their own skin,” Saxon replied. “We’ve seen that time and again, and right now they’re being massacred on a couple of dozen worlds. You think all of them will escape war crimes tribunals? The Commodore’s right. If letting a few hundred bureaucrats walk into exile will bring this to an end, then it’s a good deal.”

   “Any reply?” Curtis asked, not really expecting one.

   “Nothing yet, sir,” the technician replied. “Signal from Titan, though. The Residence has fallen and a provisional legislature has offered their congratulations upon your victory, and wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience.”

   “Careful,” Rojek warned. “That could be half-a-dozen blowhards hoping to get some sort of legitimacy. We’ll have to test the ground first before we actually recognize a government.” He paused, then added, “Though realistically, it’s going to happen anyway, with or without us.”

   “First come, first recognized,” Saxon advised, “On the proviso that democratic elections, supervised by us to ensure their fairness, take place within the next few months. That might end up being the best we can organize given the circumstances.”

   “Worry about that later,” Curtis said. “We still have a battle to win until we hear...”

   “Sir,” the technician interrupted. “Signal from Earth! From the Central Committee! Chairman Nakamura wishes to speak to you.”

   “Nakamura?” Curtis asked.

   Suppressing a chuckle with difficulty, Saxon replied, “I guess Murdoch was suddenly taken ill as soon as news came through about what happened on Titan. Nakamura’s a talker, not a fighter. This might be good news, Teddy.”

   “Put him on,” Curtis ordered. “On the big screen and full speakers. Let’s see what he wants.”

   “Aye, sir,” the excited technician replied, all eyes turning to the monitor as the image of Saturn winked out, replaced with a harried, balding man sitting behind an old wooden desk, the lights of Stockholm’s skyline behind him. He looked up at Curtis, his eyes betraying only a hint of sadness, and looked around the bridge with a nod.

   “This is for all of you, I suppose. They’ll learn of it soon enough, I suspect.” Folding his hands together, he continued, “I have just spoken to the other members of the Central
Committee, and we have unanimously agreed that this situation requires us to take unprecedented measures if we are to come to a peaceful resolution. And I believe we can both agree that fighting in Earth orbit should be avoided if at all possible.”

   “I have no wish to commit an act of mass murder, Chairman. I’m gratified that you agree.”

   With a curt nod, he replied, “Very well. I am willing to order a ceasefire of all of our forces, in return for the exchange of all captive officers and crewmen, and your personal promise not to enter cislunar space until we have come to terms for the dismantlement of the Federation.” Looking around the room, he continued, “I will not, can not, offer an unconditional surrender, but I instead propose that we commence negotiations for peace at once. I am aware that you will need time to consider this offer, and as you are currently in a position of strength in Sol System, I will humbly await your reply. Though I strongly urge you, for the benefit of all, to accept. Stockholm out.”

   “Clever,” Saxon said, shaking his head. “That’s a non-surrender surrender. He’s keeping as many cards hidden in his hand as he can.”

   “Felix,” Curtis asked, turning to face his friend, “Tactical report. What’s the situation in the rest of the system. Could they have anything hidden away somewhere?”

   “Not in Sol, sir,” Rojek replied. “We’re getting good images of the entire system now. There’s no sign of trouble, no sign of danger. If it came to a straight fight now, we’d clean their chronometers.” Looking back at him, he said, “Maybe they legitimately want to talk peace, try and get an advantage in the negotiations. I don’t trust them, but that doesn’t mean they’ve got a battleship hidden in their pocket.”

    Saxon looked at the screen, then said, “You’ve got to accept, Teddy. He hasn’t given you a choice.”

   “Like hell,” Hudson replied. “We’ve got all the choice in the galaxy. You heard Lieutenant Rojek. We can take them. This fleet could move into orbit right now, and...”

   “And run the gauntlet of a fully-operational defense grid, primed and ready for action, as well as God only knows how many fighters. We’d win, probably…”

   “Probably?” Hudson interrupted.

   “But the cost would be grave, Commander,” Saxon continued. “I’m not only talking about this fleet, though we could lose half our ships and still consider ourselves lucky. How many civilians do you want to kill today?” Gesturing at the screen, she added, “They’re the one card Nakamura has, and he knows it. Right now they’re all being locked down as human shields.”

   “Christ,” Rojek said. “I hadn’t thought of that. She’s right, Teddy.”

   Hudson looked down, sighed, and replied, “Bastards.”

   “A ceasefire gives us time to regroup, time to organize ourselves, and time to prepare. We’re here, in Sol, and we have enough secure facilities that we don’t have to worry about attack. We control Titan, which is the one vital asset that Earth cannot afford to lose, and as we keep noting, we have overwhelming mobile force at our disposal. Our hand is a lot stronger than theirs, and we’ve got enough of a basis for negotiation to really get things moving.” Turning to Hudson, she added, “This war just moved from the battlespace to the boardroom, Commander, whether you like it or not.”

   “There’s another factor,” the hitherto silent Norton replied. “If we turn them down, then it’s all on us. Everything that will happen in orbit, anything that happens from now on in this war, is our responsibility. The Chairman gave us a good offer. The basis for the dismantlement of the Federation. Isn’t that what we were fighting for? It’s here, now, and we don’t have to fire a shot to secure it. We beat them in battle. We’ll beat them at the peace talks.”

   Turning to the communications station, Curtis said, “Spaceman, tell Chairman Nakamura that we accept his offer, the peace talks to take place here, on Titan. Make it clear that the location is non-negotiable. We’ve won the war, we dictate where and when the talks are held. Then put me through to the Fleet.”

   “Aye, sir. You’re on.”

   Nodding, he slid on a headset, and said, “This is the Commodore. As of oh-nine-thirty-one Zulu, the Central Committee has offered a ceasefire pending negotiations for the dismantlement of the Federation. I have accepted these terms on behalf of the rebellion.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “This does not mean that the war is over. We must remain on our guard while the peace process takes place. We have, however, won the battle, and secured the greatest step towards freedom in half a century. We would not have reached this point without the loyal and dedicated service of each and every one of you. Thank you all. Bridge out.”

   A cheer went up around the bridge, as Saxon walked over to Curtis, neither sharing in the general celebration. As Hudson moved to Tactical to arrange for the return of their fighters, Saxon looked up at the screen.

   “You realize that the real fighting begins now.”

   “I know that,” he replied.

   “I hope so,” she said. “I certainly hope so. Because I somehow have the feeling that the biggest battle of this war has yet to be fought.”

  Chapter 5

   Major Gabrielle Cordova sat in her cabin, watching the replay of the battle for the tenth time, for want of anything else to do. For all of her adult life, she’d been a resistance leader, fighting to overthrow the hated Federation. She’d done things she wasn’t proud of, had kept Commodore Curtis in a drugged stupor for decades in a bid to protect him from ColSec, to keep him alive for the day he would be needed to command a fleet for the resistance.

   She’d been right. That was almost the worst part of it. Everything had happened as she had hoped. Curtis had come back from the dead and stepped back into command as though he had never left it, had led the ever-growing rebel fleet to one victory after another as they had smashed the Federation Fleet. And now they were actually coming to the negotiating table, the Chairman himself admitting that the days of the Federation were numbered, that liberty and freedom were the inevitable result of their triumphs.

   Right now, she should be on the bridge, should be doing something. Instead she was stuck in her cabin, waiting. When Curtis had found out what she had done to him, as well as others, she’d been stripped of her rank and responsibilities, before being forced to fake her own death to restore some of her usefulness during the Liberation of Hyperborea. That battle had won her freedom, but she know that none of the senior staff trusted her, and that it was more than likely that they never would again.

   She couldn’t blame them, not really. Had she suffered as Curtis had, she’d have wanted revenge as well, would have taken it out on those who had imposed those endless years of chemical oblivion. It had been necessary. She kept telling herself that. Kept telling herself that she’d only done what she had to do, as her father had before her.

   A bigger problem rested deep within her soul. Her father had taken her underground when she was barely eleven. Her life for the last twenty years had been nomadic, wandering from one rebel cell to the next, always a step ahead of the security forces, always on the run. Until the day when a bullet had caught her father in the gut, during a misguided attempt to free political prisoners from the maximum security installation on Triton. Since then, since she was only seventeen, she’d been the effective leader of the rebellion, even if that had rarely amounted to more than figurehead status.

   All she knew was the fight. Her life had been dedicated to one thing, and one thing only. The destruction of the Federation, and now it appeared as though it was actually going to happen. And she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was going to do with the rest of her life. It had never occurred to her that she might actually survive the war; she’d had one narrow escape after another, and it had never seemed truly probable that she’d live to see the day she’d fought for. There had been no time to plan for the aftermath, perhaps many in the resistance not really believing that they would win, content instead to fight
for honor and glory, hoping for a better day.

   The better day had dawned, and she didn’t have the slightest idea what she was going to do with it. There was no chance that she could remain in any military role; either Commodore Curtis or his son were going to be in leadership roles in whatever sort of spacefleet emerged from the peace talks, and neither of them would permit her to wear a uniform of any sort. That had been made perfectly clear. And all of the key figures on Polaris and in the rest of the squadron knew Curtis, trusted and liked him, and her actions on Titan had become common enough knowledge that the chances of her finding a useful role anywhere else in the administration seemed slight.

   She tried to cast her mind back to her childhood, tried for the first time in long years to recall the dreams of her youth. She had vague ideas of a sporting career, perhaps gymnastics, but those days were long gone now. The usual dreams of being a spacer, going out to the frontier to explore new worlds, to push out the frontiers, the ones that all children had before their parents successfully talked them out of them. Nothing came to her. All her life, she’d been dedicated to the fight, and the deeper she looked, the more she feared that there was nothing else inside.

   The door slid open, and Saxon strode into the room as though she belonged there, taking a seat by the wall without waiting for permission. She looked Cordova over with contempt on her face, shaking her head, then pulled a datapad out of her pocket and tossed it to her.

   “What’s this?” Cordova asked.