Starcruiser Polaris: Nothing Left To Lose Page 7

   “Attention,” Curtis' voice barked from the overhead speaker. “Emergence in four minutes. All senior officers to their stations on the double. Repeat, all senior officers to the stations on the double.”

   “I'd better get below,” Moretti said, looking at Cordova quickly before leaving the room, Saxon still sitting in her seat.

   “Whatever you think you know…,” Cordova began

   Raising an eyebrow, Saxon replied, “Just one piece of advice, Major, before we head up to the bridge and watch the Commander work some more of his particular brand of magic. Sometimes, as strange as it may seem for a ColSec operative to admit it, honesty can indeed be the best policy. You might be surprised at how effective such a course of action can be.”

   “The day I listen to a lecture on truth from you...”

   “Just a little advice. That's all.” Saxon led the way down the corridor, the two of them jogging towards the waiting elevator. Lights flickered all around them, the power grid in urgent need of maintenance on this deck. One more desperately needed repair on an ever-growing list. Cordova glanced at Saxon as they raced towards their destination. She was good at her job. There was no denying that. And she had saved them twice.

   Though always, buried only a few inches from the surface, there was the same deceit that she'd expect from a ColSec administrator. Someone who until recently had dedicated their life to the service of the tyrannical government that she had wanted to destroy since she was old enough to want anything. Sixteen years ago, she'd made a promise to her father as he died in her arms, that she would continue the fight, press on until the final victory, even if she had to give up her own life for the cause. She meant those words then, and she meant them still more now.

   The two of them slid into the elevator, doors closing behind them as they sped to the bridge, neither of them trusting themselves to speak to the other. Commands reverberated from the speakers, Curtis and Rojek calling the crew to their stations, ready for the battle to begin.

   All was calm and orderly on the command deck, Curtis sitting at the heart of the action, Rojek at Tactical and Norton at the helm, scattered technicians clustered at critical consoles. The viewscreen was displaying a projected image of the system they were approaching, gathered from long-range sensor data, as well as the theoretical trajectory track of their target, Jakarta.”

   “Full sweep as soon as we enter the system,” Curtis ordered. “Major, is your strike team standing by in the shuttle?”

   “They are. I should be with them,” she protested.

   “I can't risk you, Major. They might launch, but unless things really drop our way, they aren't going anywhere near that ship.” He frowned, then added, “Though there might be...”

   “Skipper,” Rojek said, “This isn't a rescue mission. It's a decoy operation. And both of them knew the risks they were taking when they joined us, knew that they might have to sacrifice their lives. Our job is to make sure they are well spent.”

   “Here we go,” Norton said, as Polaris slid out of warp, the Tau Drive disengaging in a gravitational roar that echoed across space-time. Immediately, targets appeared on the screen, a freighter moving towards the planet ahead, a swarm of fighters flying close escort all around her.

   Frowning, Rojek replied, “Just as you see, sir. Seven fighters, one transport. Modifications on the transport, a couple of turrets and a point-defense system.” Tapping controls, he added, “No record in our database of Jakarta being modified as an auxiliary cruiser. This must be new.”

   “Not a comprehensive overhaul, though,” Saxon said, peering at the sensor display. “They had time to make these modifications.” Turning to Cordova, she added, “What do you think, Major?”

   “Our intelligence hasn't picked up much.”

   “At a guess,” Saxon said, “your agents were all picked up the moment they knew we'd found Polaris. The Political Directorate can be quite efficient at times.” Turning to Curtis, she added, “It's still a trap, sir. We can't risk taking the bait.”

   “True, but we can't just sit here, either. Norton, intercept course. Make it look good, but hold back some acceleration. Make it ninety percent. And throw in a few odd thruster moves. I'd like it to look as though our control of the ship isn't complete. Felix, I'd like a firing solution on their fighters as soon as we can get one.”

   “We're not going toe-to-toe…,” he began.

   “I'm not going to miss targets of opportunity either.”

   Polaris moved into position, sweeping towards the target, the freighter burning its engines hotter in an attempt to escape. Both sides were playing a game, acting out roles in a drama. Jakarta was trying to lure Polaris into a trap, the capital ship simply attempting to make the engagement look convincing. Cordova walked towards the sensor display, looking over Rojek's shoulder, and frowned at the preponderance of moons around the planet.

   “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rojek said. “We've already got probes on the way, but...”

   “Course change!” Strickland, sitting next to him, said. “They're after our birds, sir. One fighter each, heading for intercept course. I'd guess they've got something hidden out there that they don't want us to know about.”

   “Behind all four moons?” Cordova asked.

   “Unlikely,” Curtis said. “But it would look pretty suspicious if they only hunted down one, wouldn't it.” He frowned, then said, “We're going to catch them before they reach the planetary defense network. Prepare to launch strike team.”

   “You don't think this could be real?” Norton mused. “Maybe we're reading more into this than we should. We might actually have a chance of bringing our people home?”

   Moving to a vacant terminal, Saxon said, “I'm going to try and crack into Jakarta. Wait one.”

   As Polaris cruised into position, seemingly moving at a crawl through the stars, Cordova looked over Saxon's shoulder as her hands danced across the controls. For all her sins, she was a talented hacker, and the freighter quickly yielded to her demands for access, information on the location of the two prisoners flickering onto the display, down to feeds from their cells.

   “It's a trap,” Saxon said, looking up at Cordova. “I'm good. I'm very, very good, but even I'm not good enough to crack through that level of security so easily and quickly.” Reading from the display, she added, “Rebels Yuri Alvarez and Tom Krieger to be executed for Crimes Against the People upon arrival.”

   “But...” Strickland began.

   “Spaceman, they want us to commit to an attack. They're luring us in.” Curtis looked up at the screen, then said, “Now we've got to play the second part of the game. If I'd been fooled, by now I'd be getting suspicious that it was too easy, and I'd be planning to make some lemons out of lemonade.” Turning to Rojek, he added, “Any military targets on the surface of the planet?”

   “Sure,” Rojek replied. “You like a testing range for advanced weapons systems?”

   “I like it a lot. Set up a course and pass it to the help, and prepare for planetary assault.” He turned, smiled, and said, “Make it look like we are, anyway. I'm aware that we can't alter our firing patterns that quickly, but I'm rather hoping they don't know that.”

   “I'm going to try and crack into the relay satellites,” Saxon added. “Maybe I can find out something interesting.”

   “Altering course,” Norton said. “Coming around the planet, out from the blind spot on the far side.”

   “Hold back the shuttle,” Curtis ordered. “Fighters, Felix?”

   “Moving back to Jakarta.” Rojek frowned, and said, “They could head behind one of the moons, or behind the planet. They aren't. Looks like they're trying for the gravitational threshold. That's not a terrible call, but it would theoretically give us the best chance of catching them.”

   Curtis nodded, then said, “Tell me, Felix. If you were commanding that ship, and you'd pick a moon, which one would you hi
de behind?”

   “The nearest. With a close gravitational slingshot to make our course unpredictable, buy time to get inside the defensive perimeter.”

   “Norton, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to alter course again.”

   “Way ahead of you, sir. Course plotted and laid in.”

   “Execute at your discretion.”

   Cordova watched the crew at their post, a smooth, well-oiled machine despite their inexperience, Curtis exuding a cool confidence at their heart, master of his domain, his eyes barely moving from the tactical display. Everything they had been through would be justified if she and her father had made the right choice of a commander for Polaris, and all the evidence suggested that they had.

   “That got them moving!” Saxon said with a chuckle. “Fighters coming around.”

   “On an intercept course, sir,” Strickland added. “They're abandoning the freighter completely.”

   “Poor Jakarta,” Curtis said. “More speed, helm. Everything we've got. We might be able to catch our friends by surprise.”

   “New contact!” Rojek reported. “Starcruiser coming around the moon, sir. One second.” He paused, then looked up at Curtis, eyes loaded with sympathy, “It's Canopus, sir.”

   “My son's ship,” Curtis muttered. “Damn.”

   “Don't worry, Commander,” Cordova said. “We've got a little ace in the hole on that ship.”

   “I hope so,” he replied. “Norton, take us in.”

  Chapter 9

   “Polaris closing on us, Commander,” Dietrich said. “Bearing directly.”

   “How the hell did they spot us?” Schmidt asked, looking daggers at Mike.

   With a thin smile, Mike replied, “They've got a good man sitting in the driver's seat. Kenyon, match course and speed, take us into the fight. All batteries to open fire as soon as I give the order. Fighters to scramble at once, spearhead attack formation.” Turning to the rear, he said, “Petrova, see if you can contact Polaris. I want to give them a chance to surrender.”

   “They won't listen,” Schmidt said. “And what can you possibly offer them.”

   “A fair trial. And besides, if we can get that ship back intact, we should.”

   “Simply talking to them is borderline treason.”

   “Lieutenant,” Mike said, turning to her, “One more remark. One more. And I will personally see you hauled into the brig and left there. We're in the middle of a battle. This is not a time for debate, and I shouldn't have to remind you of that. Mind your station, and let me know when you have a firing solution on Polaris. Which you will not take advantage of until I give the order.”

   “Aye, sir,” she sullenly replied, reluctantly returning to her station.

   “Fighters launched, sir,” Dietrich added. “Shall I order the other two ships in?”

   Looking at the tactical plot, Mike shook his head, and replied, “Have them keep out of sight. They've already danced half-way out of the noose, and neither Cygnus nor Arcturus are in a good position for an intercept in any case. Order them to hold position unless Polaris changes course. They might try and swing around the far side of the planet, and if they do, both of them will have a good shot.” Turning to Dietrich, he added, “No point showing all our cards just yet.”

   “I have a good signal, Commander,” Petrova said. “For the record, all communications between the two ships will be monitored and transmitted back to Earth, and as Political Officer, I endorse this action.”

   “Thank you, Lieutenant. Put them on the screen.”

   The display of the battle snapped off, replaced by a view of an old-style Starcruiser bridge, a mirror-image of himself sitting in the command chair, facing him. Hair gray rather than brown, a thin beard of a style fashionable two-decades ago, a uniform design dating back to the Uprising, but it was still like looking at another version of him. At a man he hadn't seen in twenty years.

   “Commander,” he said, shrouding himself in the safety of formality, “As representative of the Federation Fleet, I formally call upon you to surrender your vessel. I promise safe passage of you and your crew to Earth, where you will stand trial for your crimes in an open court.”

   Shaking his head, his father replied, “I can't do that, son. And you know I can't. The concept of a fair trial in a Federation court is a contradiction in terms.” He paused, then said, “We're fighting for all of you. Fighting to free you from the corrupt tyranny that has taken control of Earth and the Colonies.” Mike glanced back at Petrova for a second, and his father continued, “We shouldn't be on opposite sides. You're serving a government that oppresses its citizens every bit as heavily as the Commonwealth or the Federated Nations once did. A government that massacred millions of people in the Purge. A government that is already planning to launch another one, to kill more millions of innocents. How many are going to have to die before you realize you're betraying the oath you swore.”

   “I know my duty, Commander,” Mike replied.

   “To defend the people of the Federation from all enemies, internal and external. Well, son, what happens when that enemy is the government itself? Take a look around you, before it is too late.” He glanced off-screen, and said, “We'll be in firing range in four minutes. I don't intend to stand down, and I cannot, will not surrender.” Mike could see the agony playing out on his father's face, and for the briefest second, was tempted to concede, but iron resolve filled his heart, and he shook his head.

   “My orders are to capture Polaris if I can, destroy it if I must. I intend to carry them out. And when I do, I'll have a clear enough conscience that I won't have to spend the next twenty years trying to drink myself to death. Canopus out.”

   Silence reigned on the bridge, and after a moment, Mike said, “Come on, people. Heads in the game. We've still got to beat these bastards. Dietrich, contact Duval. His first wave is to shoot to disable rather than kill. Prioritize the Tau Drive. If we can knock it out, we'll be able to pick Polaris off at our leisure.”

   “Aye, sir,” Dietrich replied, as Mike watched the screen. Seeing his father for the first time in twenty years had unsettled him more than he could ever admit, and keeping the mask of calm that was expected of him as a commanding officer was one of the toughest tasks of his life. None of the bridge crew would look him in the eye, as though fearing that he had some sort of infection, that treachery was a family condition that could still be passed on.

   Frowning, he looked at Polaris' trajectory track. It was still heading directly for Canopus, a clear interception course. Textbook strategy, but unless his father had managed to make far more repairs and upgrades than seemed realistic, one that would end with Polaris a ruin and Canopus triumphant. He glanced at the other ships, sitting out the battle, shielded from the enemy sensor networks. Something he was determined to maintain at all costs. There was something very wrong about this whole situation.

   “Why haven't they launched their fighters?” Petrova asked. “They had them at the Cinnamon Belt, and our records indicate that they survived that battle. And when they launched their last attack, they had a half-squadron in the air.”

   “Good point,” Mike replied. “Any sign, Dietrich?”

   “Not a trace, sir,” his friend said, looking up at the sensor readouts. “No sign that they've even opened their launch doors. They're just heading right for us.” He paused, then added, “Some trouble with their maneuvering thrusters, though. They keep getting wild bursts, throwing them off course for a moment. And I can pick up some serious damage to the outer hull in the lower sections. Lots of temporary patches in place. They're not in good condition, sir.”

   “Damned rebels don't know how to take care of the ship they've stolen,” Schmidt said.

   There could be an element of truth to that. A skeleton crew, trying to keep a ship running, would only concentrate on the absolute essentials, everything else left alone for as long as possible. And yet, t
hat couldn't be the whole story. His father was an experienced starship commander, and the attacks at the Cinnamon Belt and at Yaschar had been well-executed. Simply locking onto a suicide course didn't make any sense.

   “Three minutes to firing range,” Schmidt added. “I have a firing solution. Fighters will be on target in two. There's no way they can evade us now, Commander. It looks like we've got this one locked down.”

   It did. And yet, Mike couldn't escape the feeling that this was exactly what he was expected to think, that he was being played by his father, strings being pulled. No fighters, no shuttles, and no sign of any maneuvering. Just a straight-line course, right for Canopus, as though there was nobody at the helm.

   “Trouble with one of the fighters, sir,” Dietrich added. “Green Ten. Engine failure. He's dropping out of the formation and requests pickup.”

   “Dispatch a rescue shuttle,” Mike replied, his eyes locked onto the screen.

   Then he saw it. Three squadrons heading towards the target, and all thirty-six fighters were still on course for Polaris. Despite the fact that he'd just been informed that one of them had lost engine power. He raced from his seat, sprinting towards Schmidt, pushing her hands from the controls as he engaged the sensor overrides, the view on the screen immediately changing, Polaris no longer on a direct course to intercept, instead curving towards the moon, trying to execute a slingshot, Canopus' fighters hopelessly off-course.

   “What the hell?” Petrova asked.

   Rage in his eyes, Mike turned to Schmidt, and said, “Why weren't you using independent sensor controls?”

   “The relay satellites had much better definition, sir, and I wanted to get the best possible...”

   “They've hacked the God-Damned network, Lieutenant, and overlaid a false image to the entire fleet, and you let them into our system!” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Run a full security systems check. I want to know what else they could have done.”