[nsw-fic] Wrath of the Witch Maiden

[machievelli]

Threats and SAR

 

The station commander stared in horror at the scene. The dispatch boat might have escaped to sound the alarm, but that lunatic LAC had gutted it like a fish. Before he could even recorded it mentally, two other LACS, one labeled as GSNLAC Gabriel, another labeled HMSLAC Weasel came out of stealth, decelerating madly. Gabriel swapped ends, then began to chase the now derelict Azrael. The other slowed then changed course to flash past the Mesan registered freighter. As it passed less than 50,000 kilometers away, her point defense emplacements ripped into the 2.5 megaton freighter's hull. Compared to the throughput of point defense of Witch Maiden, they were nothing to write home about; but when she slid to a stop eighty thousand kilometers from the station, and began to run back on the freighter, it was a shattered wreck.

 

“Capwell station, this is HMSLAC Weasel, Lieutenant La Bianca commanding. You were instructed to refuse clearance to ships attempting to depart. Think of what my squadron has already done as a gentle reminder. If you continue to resist, we can get more... strict with you.”

 

Sykes hit his annunciator. “Bluff someone too stupid to count! Both of you were part of the defense of the Manty squadron, and if you have one missile between you, I'll eat it without salt!”

 

For a long moment, there was nothing, then three beams almost as powerful as a destroyer main battery passed around the station. “This is lieutenant Watson of Gabriel, I do not need a missile to send that entire station to the Intercessor. So if you wish to have a lot more people, most of them civilians killed; call our bluff.”

 

The original LAC design had included a small shuttle bay, but adding the stern wall and additional stern firing point defense clusters had caused it's removal before the Shrike A had even finished it's production run. So the LAC crews were required to suit up and go EVA. Of course Gabriel had that problem because their mission was the wrecked Azrael, still flying past at over a hundred KPS, and it would take an hour for anything slower than an LAC to even match velocities.

 

However such evolutions were practiced, and Gabriel was able to come to a halt at a matching velocity to Azrael and bring herself alongside using just thrusters. Four of the crew members went across with SUTs, and the emergency hatch in the aft portion of the wreck was opened. The forward hatch was gone, along with almost everything forward of the impeller ring.

 

It was a nightmare inside; smoke floated in the air of the still sealed compartments, and only part of the emergency lighting had survived. Just from the visible damage they knew at least half of the crew was dead, and if the inertial compensator had failed before her wedge, the men expected to find nothing more than a paste where any other crew had been. But they searched on.

 

Back near the station Weasel had come alongside the freighter long enough to send across half of her crew to seize the ship, then had chased down the shattered dispatch boat as SAR shuttles from the station were now deployed to render assistance.

 

*****

 

Lieutenant JG Amanda St Croix leaned over the shoulder of Bosun's Mate 3rd Xavier in the number four cutter of SLNS Ferdinand Magellan. The readout was dropping. Not fast, but definitely. She had an urge to tap it, like checking a gauge you had thought was stuck, but shook her head instead. First the engines had flared out, and wouldn't restart. Now their environmental system had not only packed in, but a seal somewhere was venting their atmosphere into space as well. ”Estimate?”

 

“I'd say less than an hour, ma'am.” He replied.

 

“Then we'll have to ask the Manties for assistance.” She stood away. “ 'I would rather die a thousand deaths'.” She quoted.

 

“Who said that, ma'am?” Xavier asked.

 

She sighed. “Never mind, Xavier. Signal the Manties and tell them our situation.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.” He flipped the switch. “This is Magellan cutter 4 requesting assistance.”

 

“This is Hel Pinnace two. Squawk your transponder and state your situation, cutter 4.” He gave the information. “Are your passengers in skin suits?”

 

Amanda leaned forward. “What kind of stupid question is that, Hel two?”

 

“Who is this, please?”

 

“Lieutenant Amanda De Croix, chief records officer.”

 

“Sorry, ma'am, we have three pods where life support has failed and none of the survivors aboard were in skin suits. We're using medical support bubbles to get them out safely.”

 

“Understood.” Amanda sighed. “All of our personnel here have their skin suits.”

 

“Then you are number four. We'll be there before you're totally depressurized, but not by much. Is there any other emergency there?”

 

“Not at this time.”

 

“See you in fifty-two minutes. Hel two clear.”

 

It took longer than that. Two more pods requested assistance. Only one of them had people in skin suits, and the one that did had reported that some of their people had not checked the tanks, so people were buddy breathing, linking pairs of suits to share a single tank. At least the life support system was able to assure all of her people had full tanks, though that depleted their air store long before the pinnace finally arrived. The transfer was rapid, and she was the last to abandon.

 

The Manties were shifting people around to take all fifteen from the cutter meaning there were almost a hundred. A young man in a Mantie skin suit came over to her, saluting. “Midshipman Giovanni Garibaldi, ma'am. We have to make a full power run to the station; there are more pods that are having problems here in the inner system, and we have to deliver all of you and come back to assist.”

 

“I see your efforts are beyond what we would have anticipated.” Amanda said. “Thank you.”

 

“Unless your people try to resist, we will treat them as people in need of rescue, ma'am.”

 

“After that trick your people pulled; planting a bomb on the Flag deck of Ponce Del Leone, I am surprised.”

 

Garibaldi looked at her curiously. “Ma'am, when could we have planted a bomb on one of the enemy flagships? We've been here for almost eighteen months, and your task force only arrived last week. We haven't even had any fleet visits.”

 

Amanda waved it off. “Everyone knows that was the trick you used to beat Admiral Crandall.”

 

Garibaldi sighed. “ 'Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, not even if I have said, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense'.”

 

“Buddha.”

 

He grinned. “Do you know you're the first person to get that quote?”

 

She gave him a lazy grin back. “I have a photographic memory. I remember everything. I was recording all data from the squadron when your attack began. One minute thirty-one seconds before your salvo attacked Ponce Del Leone, Admiral Tshombe ordered her wedge dropped in surrender. The bomb went off four seconds later. In the confusion, the ship was destroyed.”

 

He stared at her. “We couldn't have done it, ma'am. Did you bring the records from your ship?”

 

“Yes. However I will not turn them over to your officers.”

 

Garibaldi nodded. “With your permission, may I notify my captain of your allegation?”

 

“You will anyway.” She replied tartly.

 

“Yes I would.” He admitted. “However I would prefer your permission, ma'am.”

 

“ 'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly'.”

 

“Hamlet, Act one, scene six.”

 

“Scene seven, you dolt.”

 

Discoveries

 

As the cutters and pinnaces of both the Mantie and the Solarian ships delivered people to the station, the ones out system were busy transferring to Witch Maiden, who was inbound. The crews of the Sollie ships were sour about having to fill the partially empty cargo holds under guard, and about how tightly packed they were becoming.

 

As the inner system small craft were emptied, they first gathered everyone remaining in life pods, then began to run out at the now decelerating Witch Maiden. Even there the crowding didn't really abate; there were almost seven thousand Sollies still aboard as the last of the outer system pods were finally emptied.

 

The Manticoran captains had more pressing things to wonder about. First had come Midshipman Garibaldi's report. Right after it came a report from Gwynhaffer pinnace three (Excalibur), Lucretia Carlyle commanding. Her command had been the first to deliver Sollie survivors, and had stayed near the station long enough to pick up the survivors from the three derelicts. There weren't many from Azrael or the dispatch boat; only the commander of the boat had survived, and four from Azrael. She had also picked up the fifteen survivors of the Merchant SMV Gastericht, though that was a mixed blessing. She was not only a Jessyk Combine ship, she also violated the Equipment Clause of the Cherwell Accord.

 

But Ruperton supplied the biggest puzzle. One of the initial boarding crew from Weasel had been 1st class Engineer O'Donnell, and he'd commented that the surviving impeller room looked 'odd'. As someone who had served on a battlecruiser before being assigned to LACs, it meant something to Carlyle, who had gone aboard personally. That report, along with the survivors of Gastericht and Azrael was taken directly to HMS Gwynhaffer. Ten minutes later, Captain Seguin had requested that Duvalier come aboard his ship.

 

Now Duvalier, Commander Kiel, and the captains of the four cruisers and the chief engineers of all the ships present were looking at the holographic record taken by Carlyle's crew.

 

“I've never seen anything like it.” Commander Collins said. He was leaning forward, steepled fingers under his chin. “That power run is larger than a destroyer would have. That was why the boat crew was only eight instead of the twelve standard on a dispatch boat.”

 

“Any ideas?” Duvalier asked. The officers, with one exception, shook their heads. “Yes, Lieutenant Commander Riley?” She asked HMS Adamant's engineer. The man was a stocky citizen of Sphinx.

 

“I'm not sure how much I can tell you, ma'am.” He held up a hand before anyone could protest. “I worked for Admiral Hemphill's Weapons Design Bureau as a Jig on upgrading the impeller drive to take full advantage of the Grayson inertial compensators starting with Mod 2.” He looked around the room. “Most people don't know it, but if you turned out good work with the WDB you were asked to occasionally give input on questions concerning your specialty later. What I can tell you is that this dispatch boat appears to have an operating impeller drive that is beyond what I've seen so far, even in the theoretical work I was asked about.”

 

Kiel looked at the drive as the point of view changed. “Then we will have to bring it back and have your WDB look at it.”

 

“That's a pretty big souvenir, Commander.” Captain Seguin commented dryly. “Will you have room in the holds once you've cleared all of the Sollies out?”

 

“We'll make room.” Duvalier replied.

 

“Now that is taken care of, what about this report from Midshipman Garibaldi?” Captain Erica Frazier of HMS Hel asked.

 

“We've spoke with Captain Soltoburn and Admiral Bartley.” Duvalier told them. “Both refuse to allow us access. You've all been told about Admiral Sallinger's confession. It was sent to one of our own recon drones by whisker laser, so except for my bridge crew and those in this room, it is a secret. But the Sollies here are dancing to the Mesan's tune without realizing it. I submit that while we can maintain it as a secret, notifying the Sollies of what we were told will bring at least some of Battle Fleet to our side.”

 

“Before we do so, Captain.” Jinhua commented, drawing out a chip she slid into a reader. “We have fully informed Captain Duvalier of our special interrogation techniques, and ask that the survivors of MV Gastericht and the Mesans aboard the station be turned over to us for interrogation...”

 

Loose ends

 

Helga Prokoviev checked the scanners attached to the station companionway outside the Jessyk company office. The damned Manties hadn't occupied the station...yet. The pinnace Merlin had delivered a team to direct the naval prisoners into cargo holds, except for the few casualties caused by depressurization. But that wouldn't stand for long. The cruisers were five minutes out, and those damned LACs had even stopped shuttle flights to the surface.

 

As one of only a dozen Mesans assigned to the office, she was well and truly screwed. All she could do was clean out her computer. She might only be a Gamma line operative, but even she thought her predecessor was a moron. He had copied every directive slavishly, and there was enough in those files to get them all spaced even if they hadn't been part of that idiot's operations!

 

*****

 

“Section seventeen A Level two.” Lieutenant Rupert Thorndyke instructed the computer tech. The man nodded, whispering into the hush mike on his headset. The screen showed the office lobby. The tech shook his head.

 

“We have a tape delay loop on the lobby and companionway, Gunny. No access to the main office itself. I would say it's a go.”

 

There was only a click

 

Pokoviev heard a sound, looking up toward the main air vent grill even as something stung her throat on the right side. She jerked to her feet, left hand streaking toward her computer even as the right dove into her jacket. She swayed, then there was a whining sound as the first sheaf of pulser darts that should have shredded the grill tore her own left arm off. She stared at the detached arm stupidly as the hand with the pulser continued to come into view, rising toward her chin. The detached hand had landed on the keyboard, the index finger hitting the letter 'I' over and over. Then she fell forward, breaking her nose on the desk before slithering to a pile on the floor.

 

The door snapped open, and two Manticoran Marines raced in. One took the weapon from her hand as the other put a tourniquet on the amputation. “We got her. Need a med team, stat!” As the marine spoke the grill clanged to the deck as another Marine dropped to the deck. He slid the tranquilizer gun back into it's holster.

 

“Objective captured.”

 

The man who had set up the ambush stood erect, looking at Thorndyke. “Your cooperation is appreciated, sir.” The accent was pure Gryphon Highlander. His associate shut down the loops they had rigged into the scanner net, and raised his com. “Tag her, bag her, get her medical attention, but she wakes up aboard Witch Maiden.”

 

“Understood.”

 

The tech moved through the station, people avoiding him thanks to the Manticoran Navy uniform. He arrived at the office as a Marine Med team stabilized the target. He nodded to the three man Marine strike team as they escorted the med team out. Three more covered the other dozen or so Mesan personnel. “Take them to the docking bay. They have a date with Commander Kiel. I am going to see what I can find.” He took the company officer's desk, setting the arm aside. “Will one of you run this down to the medics? They might be able to reattach it.” A marine took it silently, and the tech looked at the monitor screen. “Now let us see what we can find here?” he commented, hands going to the computer. He looked at the series of letter I that had been hit. He took a strip of tape, marked it, 'do not touch # 8 or 9, or F8 or F9' before carefully inserting an additional disc drive.

 

Revelation

 

Witch Maiden came to a stop 500 kilometers from the station, wedge dropping as she assumed orbit. A pinnace came toward her from Gwynhaffer, and another from the station itself. As she came to rest her cargo bays opened, and the shuttles began towing pods toward the depot ship HMS Hugette. Of the 600 Hammer pods the ship had arrived with, she had 358 remaining after her attack on the outer segment of the task force. That would leave only 208 aboard after trading out for the older MK 20 pods. Of course her supply of Mk 23 pods were even slimmer; only 104 pod remained of that load out.

 

Duvalier had already earmarked the remaining Hammers as her own, so the remaining 192 odd pods were the original Mk 20s. All of the expended pods had been destroyed rather than leaving them for the Sollies to examine.

 

She checked the rest of the information, a dozen Mesans added to the survivors of Gastericht, along with the sole survivor of Ruperton, who should be charged with violations of International law since there was another ID listing her as MAN Pheidippides. She wished she could be there for that interrogation series.

 

*****

 

“You are joking, Herr Zerstörerkapitan.” Leutnant Kreis told her. His commander merely looked at him.

 

“And you say this why?”

 

“She is a child, not even close to one of the ship's acting troupe. To expect her to be right in this part is... unlikely.”

 

“Yet she matches this office worker Van Reidel perfectly. And from the records we have recovered, she is the one with the least knowledge of what the corporation is doing. Eine unschuldige Narren.” Schindler commented.

 

“Yes she is an innocent fool. But the others know that. When they see her spaced, as if we don't care, they will talk.” Jinhua shook her head. “I will speak with her, and the Captain.”

 

The prisoners came aboard Witch Maiden, and their fear spiked as the Manticorans that had escorted them turned them over to cold faced Andermani ratings. They were marched down to the brig section, where they were run dispassionately through induction. The showers were ice cold, the soap harsh. The towels barely soaked up any liquid, and the coveralls they were given were a brilliant International Orange. As they were marched from the showers two men grabbed the newest person assigned to the station, Jeanette Van Reidel. Before the others could protest, she was dragged away.

 

It was bad enough being prisoners of the Manticorans. But to be prisoners of the Andermani instead! The only thing worse would have been the old Audubon Ballroom!

 

For Van Reidel it was terrifying. She'd only been working for the Jessyk Combine for less than a year now, and that was before she had been posted off her home world. Before she discovered that only Manpower itself was more hated by the Audubon Ballroom and the nations of the Haven Sector. Something all those ads for employment opportunities back home never mentioned.

 

She didn't deal in slaves or even in making them; she was a clerk-typist for Christ's sake! Once she'd heard her first rumor about the company, she had done as she always had done back on Mesa, she researched it. Here, without the government sanitation of such records, she was appalled to discover that almost 30 percent of her people, even people she had known as friends as a child were slaves who had almost no rights, and her company had been bought up by the makers of those slaves centuries earlier.

 

Miss Prokoviev had been gentle but firm about it. To get off world she had signed a contract for three years, and unless she wanted to be sent home and terminated there with no future job prospects, she had to serve out that term. As soon as her contract term was up she had intended to find some corporation of her home world that didn't include having to learn to breath vacuum!

 

Now the nightmare she had of being caught aboard one of the company ships had happened, and she couldn't even get them to understand that she did not deserve to die. She had begged that they at least check how long she had been employed, But these cold men didn't seem to care. Then she saw the opening for an airlock ahead, and she fought them, finally making four large men carry her as they threw her into the airlock. She could see the hatch to space, and knew she had only seconds to live. She leaped up, pounding on the closed hatch. “For the love of god; I was a new hire! I didn't even have time to know what you think I am guilty of!”

 

There was a second of hope as she said it; when she thought they might be listening. Then there was the signal given when an exterior hatch opened, and she screamed as it opened behind her.

 

There had been the scream of air being ejected, and Van Reidel flew backward into a net. A net? She looked around at the people who stood there. The hatch wasn't a standard airlock, it led into another compartment, and from the skin suits and helmets, she realized that it had been depressurized enough to cause the same visual effect as being ejected into space. A man slapped an air mask on her as blowers filled the room with air again.

 

A woman in Andermani uniform helped her out of the net, then to a HD screen. In another compartment, a woman about her size also in an orange jumpsuit put on an air mask. Her face was covered in what looked like plastic, only her mouth uncovered. “Ready, Midshipman?”

 

“Yes, Leutnant Schindler.”

 

“Fifteen seconds. Heinrich?”

 

“Ready.”

 

Then Van Reidel watched as the same terrible scene she had gone through was repeated with this woman instead, drifting away from the ship, into the arms of a dozen men in SUTs. As she was caught, someone commented. “Better than projectile vomiting, eh Miss Carruthers? Got her.”

 

Schindler turned to the astonished woman. “We are sorry we scared you, but we needed something to get your fellow Mesans in the mood to talk. Tea, Miss Van Reidel?”

 

Her answer was unprintable.

 

After about an hour the guards came for another man, and escorted him to a quiet room. Jinhua sat at the desk, reading a file, looking up as he was forced into the chair across from her. She merely looked at him, then touched a button. On screen Van Reidel was begging for her life as the hatch opened, and her body was flung away. It cut to an exterior camera as a form drifted away from the ship. “Now you see we have no pity for any of you scum. She was chosen because she knew nothing we needed to know. You are next unless you find a reason for us to keep you alive.”

[machievelli]

A few more Puzzle pieces

 

Rebecca looked up as the annunciator sounded. “Commander Kiel to see you, Captain.”

 

“Send her in.”

 

The commander looked a little tired. Rebecca checked the chrono; 0500. She knew why she was up this early, Irene had decided at 0400 that it was time to play and her favorite toy had best get her posterior up to play with her. Os had delivered some tea, and the captain had dealt with the present emergencies. The Sollie naval personnel had all arrived on the station, interrogation of the Jessyk Combine people had been wrapped up, cargo transfer would be done by first shift. She only had to decide on whether to blow the mothball fleet away or not.

 

“Up early?” She asked.

 

“Up very late.” Jinhua replied. She sat, and Os, with that genie like magic he possessed was there with hot tea and breakfast pastries. Irene leaped onto the desk, sniffed with irritation at something she hadn't requested, then dropped into the commander's lap. The woman buttered a croissant, and took a bite. “I also missed supper.”

 

“All work and no play makes the commander a dull girl.”

 

“Smart ass.” Jinhua took another, slicing it open to insert a wedge of cheese. “There are times like now when I wish I had not been such an inquisitive child.”

 

“Why now?”

 

“Because I have so many puzzles to put together that I do not know where to start.” She bit into her breakfast, chewing reflectively. “When I was perhaps six, I was a holy terror. As my maternal Gross-papa, who always loved an ancient writer named Heinlein would have said, I would unscrew the inscrutable. He came looking for me because I was quiet for too long.”

 

“Always a bad sign with children that age.”

 

“True, as I have found with my own daughter since. He found me in his study. I had been snooping about and found what I thought was a mere jigsaw puzzle, and begun to work upon it.”

 

“But it wasn't?”

 

Jinhua shook her head. “Oh it was a puzzle; rather six different puzzles dumped in the same box. It was a test given to first year Intelligence agents; while they are still training. It was designed to test their patience and analytical ability. The first time you are given the test it is not scored because just about everyone would fail it, primarily because patience is something we learn later in life, and analyzing problems is also something learned. Most would grow frustrated within a very short time, and merely put it aside.

 

“He found me after about six hours having patiently divided the several thousand pieces into stacks, and had finally begun working on one of the puzzles in the box. It was then that he knew I would find my career in intelligence.”

 

“I can realize why. You had the same bent as he did.”

 

Jinhua laughed. “Oh no, he was never in intelligence. He would have thrown the entire mass of pieces in the nearest recycler if he had been forced to work it for more than twenty minutes. His wife, who died before I was born, she had been the intelligence officer.

 

“I was reminded of it because of what I am doing right now.” She sipped some tea, then refilled her cup from the carafe Os had left. “Have you ever been involved in intelligence work?” Rebecca shook her head. “It is a lot like that test, but much worse.

 

“It is like working any jigsaw puzzle, but without the cover picture to give you an idea of what it is. Pieces are missing, and pieces from other puzzles have been mixed in and none of them are complete. So you must patiently separate the different puzzles, then put it together, not knowing if you end up with a landscape, or a portrait of a kitten.” She rubbed Irene's ears. “And every answer is you best guess, not the whole truth. Our superiors are always sure we are hiding something from them because they 'know' that we are trying to prove how excellent we are, and they also assume that our work is something simple that any fool with a middle school education can do. So when we fail, they assume it is stupidity, or arrogance concealing things, not that we might be looking in the wrong direction.

 

“I now have pieces from all of these different puzzles, and am trying to work out how they go together.”

 

“Sallinger's confession?”

 

“That is part of it, true. But there is this comment by Lieutenant De Croix about the mysterious explosion aboard the Ponce De Leon. From what I can ascertain without the Sollie records the blast gutted the flag bridge seconds before his command to drop the wedge was passed. A very convenient event, for someone.”

 

“Cui Bono.”

 

“Exactly.” Jinhua grinned. “Us? No. If your in system squadron had somehow done this, it would have been counter productive. Who ever did this stopped the ship from surrendering and murdered almost 7,000 Solarians in the process. The Solarians themselves? What ploy would require the deaths of that many by subterfuge? But we have a link to what happened, which begs another question.

 

“Whoever set off that device could not have known that Sallinger had surrendered and was alive. Let us take the most recent hobby horse of your own ONI into account, primarily because they are also involved in this system. The Mesans.”

 

“Was there anything in your interrogation of the Jessyk people that led to that thought?”

 

“No, and I only bring them up because of the time line. According to Sallinger's statement, both he and Tshombe had been in contact with Prokoviev, the local factor for the Mesan corporations. When our ship rather neatly disposed of the task force sent against us, she panicked and ordered those two ships to attempt to flee.”

 

Rebecca shrugged. “The Mesans know how we feel about them. It might just be she was saving some of her people from being captured.”

 

“If only the freighter had made the attempt, true. But the courier? While your government has pretty much declared war on Manpower, you have never tarred the entire planet's population with the same brush. How would you have known the dispatch boat had been chartered by any affiliate of Manpower? It might have been Lexicon Corporation, which has no connections that Andermani intelligence has ever found to the Slavers. If she had not ordered the boat to flee, you could not have merely assumed it was linked, and seize it. Not legally, at least.

 

“As for the freighter, she was docked at the station, and unless you were willing to seize her and her crew from people not connected with the attack on you, all you could have done is tow her out and scuttle her, leaving her crew alive on the station.”

 

“So you think Manpower somehow planted the bomb?”

 

“It is a possibility. Both Tshombe and Sallinger were part of this scheme to gain your missiles. If both men had died in that attempt, you would have been left thinking one of the how do they refer to them, the Mandarins had ordered it?”

 

“Or that some room temperature IQ Sector Admiral had.”

 

“Yes. However think of this. Why was Sallinger alive long enough to give that deathbed confession?

 

“They didn't plan on losing.”

 

“No, you miss the point. You have two admirals being paid by Manpower to seize these missiles. Oh they can pretty it up for their superiors; they know you are delivering missile pods and even your old ones are better than the ones being built by their own sources. It would have been an intelligence coup to deliver them to the Solarian R&D network.

 

“But if you were willing to murder that 7,000 people, and disable a warship worth perhaps 100 billion Solarian credits, why stop at one? You have two officers you have suborned. Why murder one, yet let the other live?”

 

“Why only the two?”

 

“The screening units did not need any people party to the plot. They would merely follow orders. But the commander of the task force must be part of it, and his senior subordinate is the only one who could challenge his decision to seize the Witch Maiden. He would know about any orders from Battle Fleet to do so.

 

“So it comes back to, how did Sallinger live long enough to reveal it?”

 

Rebecca leaned back, then reached down as Irene jumped into her lap, petting the cat idly. “So you think for some reason, they had intended to kill Sallinger as well... and missed?”

 

“Nothing so Machiavellian. When I read the report about De Croix's statement, I contacted the senior surviving Solarian officer of Marco Polo. I asked him if any of Sallinger's staff had been injured or killed in the last few days, and were either not replaced or not at their station. There was one, the assistant Communications officer, Lieutenant Commander Lisbet Shannon had been injured in a grav skiing accident on the planet, and had been transported to their sickbay mere hours before the balloon went up. She is now resting in the medical center of the station.”

 

“This woman would have been on the flag bridge of Marco Polo if she had not been injured...” Rebecca leaned forward. “So she was to what, commit suicide to stop Sallinger from surviving? That's madness!”

 

“Or an adjustment.” Jinhua replied. “Think of the assassination attempt on your Admiral Alexander-Harrington. The successful assassination of your Ambassador, Admiral Lord Sir James Bowie Webster on Terra. The attempt on Queen Berry's life on Torch.”

 

“What does that have to do with this?”

 

“Andermani intelligence linked them all together because we had a similar incident about twenty years ago. The Hofschulte incident.”

 

“Never heard of it.”

 

“Lieutenant Colonel Gregor Hofschulte, a thirty year veteran of our Army. Went through the gods alone know how many reviews for loyalty during that time, a trusted and respected officer. Yet he suddenly drew his sidearm and opened fire on Crown Prince Huang and his family, killing the Prince's son before the security detachment could kill him. Our intelligence believes he was adjusted by an as yet unknown process, and aimed at his target by persons as yet still unknown.”

 

“But that's-”

 

“Impossible? We would have thought it so as well. Every navy routinely makes sure that such an adjustment using one of our personnel would take weeks, even months. Yet he was out of contact with his superiors for only one day several weeks before the incident.”

 

“Why is that one day important?”

 

“After the attack, we researched every minute of his life from the time he was born.” Jinhua grinned. “I was only an ensign at the time, just in my first year of intelligence training, but half of my family was involved. Those of us that had chosen intelligence as our careers had tossed ideas around as to what might have happened. Except for that one day, there had been nothing in almost a year, but that had been a vacation, and the colonel had been in hospital for Encephalitis, and a scan of his brain had been done at that time, so if he had been adjusted that far back, we felt we would have caught it then.”

 

“Why was that one day important? Do you know where he was?”

 

“He went to his younger brother's funeral. He was actually out of contact for less than four hours.” Jinhua ran her finger across the tray, picking up a wedge of melon. “I think it was done then. So do a lot of others. Between his hospital stay and the incident he had seen the Prince several times. Even seen him with his family. But between that period of four hours and the attack he had seen only the Prince, or the Prince and his wife together. Yet when he attacked the boy was also there.”

 

“So they wanted to kill the entire family?” Rebecca was aghast. “For heaven's sake, why?”

 

“I think it was because Princess Yi Yu was still part of the succession.”

 

Rebecca searched her memory. She had heard of the disowned 'wastrel' princess; everyone had. It had been a juicy tidbit that the International press couldn't ignore. “But why kill his family?”

 

“Because the boy had been named as Huang's heir less than a month before those missing hours.” Jinhua said softly. “If he had not been added to the succession and Prince Huang had been killed, the succession would have fallen to Yi Yu, who was not removed from the succession until several weeks later.”

 

“But only if...” Rebecca slowed as she didn't finish the sentence. Only if Gregor IX was also targeted.

 

Jinhua nodded as if Rebecca had finished it. “Intelligence knew that the Emperor himself must also be a target. But whoever set up the plot could not kill him without assuring that his heirs were dead first. If Huang had ascended the throne then, politically the Empire would have been unchanged. But with Yi Yu in charge... “ The only Andermani royal in history to have knowingly bought a slave she later married! As Empress!

 

“So you think this commander Shannon has been adjusted?”

 

“I also think the Station agent Prokoviev has been.” At Rebecca's blank look, Jinhua sighed. “I read the report made by your Marine corporal Gaines, she is the one that shot the agent with a tranquilizer dart.” The woman pulled out her pad. “ 'The target must have heard me. She moved to draw a pistol, and the same time reached for her computer keyboard even as I shot her. She tried to fire her pulser, but blew off her own left arm with the shot'.” Jinhua set it down. “It reminded me of the attack on Admiral Alexander-Harrington. One moment normal, the next the person is acting with what looks like trained speed. If she had not shot her own arm off, we would not be trying to access the files on her computer.

 

“I had noticed the report of her injury, but I didn't know it had been self inflicted. As our resident intelligence operative, how would suggest we deal with her computer?”

 

“Well if it were one of our operations, I would rig the computer to demand a password immediately if something happened to the power. So my men are already rigging an external power source so we can remove it completely from her office and bring it aboard. After all, we can't remain in system for long before someone will realize we're in control of it. There is also the problem with Dumont, the survivor from the dispatch boat's crew.”

 

“Problem? I had heard that he was conscious again with no injuries beyond being knocked unconscious by a gravity surge during the collision.”

 

“Oh physically he is fine. We tried using our little play with Miss Van Reidel to convince him to talk, but he refused. So we tried chemicals. Lieutenant Schindler, our best man with them stopped immediately because he reacted...oddly to the first attempt. Have you ever heard the term Azrael Block?” Rebecca shook her head. “It was developed back in the 1st century post-Diaspora. It was used for people with secrets so vital, that no one who knew them could be interrogated. By using a combination of simple hypnosis and drugs, you create a program that will cause the body to shut down if any attempt is made to question them; even physical force such as old fashioned torture.

 

“When he was injected, his body went into shutdown. Schindler of course knew about it, and immediately injected the antidote and had his body restarted.”

 

“So we take him with us. Have we taken custody of this commander Shannon yet?” Jinhua shook her head. “Then I think we had better before departure.”

 

“May I make a suggestion, Captain?”

 

“Could I stop you?” Rebecca asked with a smile.

 

“If you would rather-”

 

“Out with it.”

 

“I suggest we give all of the information regarding the Mesans, and Sallinger's confession to the Solarian Naval commanding officer, Admiral Bartley. Also, as a show of good faith to them, that we do not activate Rasputin yet.”

 

“I agree with you, but I had better talk with Tomas and his captains before we drop Rasputin.”

 

“One more thing.”

 

“There's more? This I have got to hear.”

 

“Miss Van Reidel was very grateful that we had not really been trying to kill her. She gave us the codes to access the other computers in the Jessyk offices. In return for them, she asked us to take her with us. By definition, she is defecting. I would vote yes on that, because of this.” She held up a data card. “She was in charge of cargo transfers, and some of them, instead of a manifest, were code worded. Just under four months ago, they received such a shipment code named Tannenbaum; Christmas Tree in Standard English.

 

“Almost 200 crates were delivered, and placed in bonded storage in the Customs house because they are supposed to be sent out again on another ship Jessyk was to charter. So some of your marines with a couple of my men went over, and 'convinced' them to let us look at this cargo. But they could only account for one hundred and thirty of them, as that is how many crates are still there. No record of them being transshipped, they are just... gone. After checking for any kind of booby trap, one was opened.” She set the card down on the desk.

 

“It contained a 20 megaton mine. We also found in the computer that while 200 odd were delivered here, the total inventory of the devices is almost four thousand being sent to every Battle Fleet base that has mothballed ships. On my own authority, I had one of the SDs that is in dock here checked by men using radiation detection gear. One of them had been placed in the inter hull dead space below her Number three fusion room.”

 

Rebecca's thoughts flashed down it. There was no need to add a bomb to the ship;

every warship had scuttling charges already installed in their design. Besides, they would have been installed at the local fleet yard when the ship was built, and sealed so there was no access. So why... Then it hit her. The inter hull dead space was something you didn't consider important unless you were in damage control. Just from the sheer mass alone, all ships required a secondary inner hull that the ribs of the main hull mounted on.

 

In destroyers or light cruisers, the space was small, less than 50 centimeters. But in a super dreadnought it was over a meter wide, and since damage control had to be able to check the hull for damage, they were used to check for damage to the outer hull without doing an EVA, and were not locked in any way.

 

The placement made sense too. If the ship were operational, the radiation from the fusion plant, as minor as it was, would cover it from detection. And unless the ship had just returned battle damaged, no one would have bothered to do a rad-sweep because just sitting in a parking orbit would not cause radiation problems.

 

“The device has a mechanical timer that had been activated before the extremely thorough anti-tampering system was activated. It is set to activate at 0421 on your Queen's birthday. According to my records, that is also the time she was born.” Jinhua finished. “I suggest we give them this as well.”

[Akyra]

Well... not sure how to start. I want to make this as helpful as possible, but you're not making this easy, since you obviously know at least as much about writing as I do. So I really have nothing to say about the writing style, grammar and such, because it's really good.

 

I like how you've managed to make Rebecca feel very much like a real character, with genuine emotions, almost right off after the first few paragraphs. The one thing I'm not so sure about is putting the whole flashback right at the beginning - it's not bad as it is, but perhaps it might be even better if it came a little later, after we (the reader) have had time to get acquainted with Rebecca. It's a little unsettling to be send in the character's past right off the bat. Or you could turn the flashback into a narrative and make it an introduction... I don't know, just going out on a limb here. You can also just leave it as it is, I guess.

 

Apart from that I'm really impressed at your knowledge of the fandom - I've read most of the Honor Harrington books, but I've skimmed over the technical details... probably more often than I should have. Your style is also pretty close to Weber's. It almost feels like reading a short story written by Weber himself.

 

One question - why did you call your character Duvalier ? It sounds like a Havenite name (since Weber seems to have assimilated Havenites to French, the same way he assimilated Andermani to Sino-German). Is there a special point to it, or did you just like the name ?

 

...codename Tannenbaum. Gosh, I love your codenames. They sound deliciously out of place.

 

And that's it for chapter one, but I'm enjoying myself so far.

[machievelli]

Well... not sure how to start. I want to make this as helpful as possible, but you're not making this easy, since you obviously know at least as much about writing as I do. So I really have nothing to say about the writing style, grammar and such, because it's really good.

 

I like how you've managed to make Rebecca feel very much like a real character, with genuine emotions, almost right off after the first few paragraphs. The one thing I'm not so sure about is putting the whole flashback right at the beginning - it's not bad as it is, but perhaps it might be even better if it came a little later, after we (the reader) have had time to get acquainted with Rebecca. It's a little unsettling to be send in the character's past right off the bat. Or you could turn the flashback into a narrative and make it an introduction... I don't know, just going out on a limb here. You can also just leave it as it is, I guess.

 

Apart from that I'm really impressed at your knowledge of the fandom - I've read most of the Honor Harrington books, but I've skimmed over the technical details... probably more often than I should have. Your style is also pretty close to Weber's. It almost feels like reading a short story written by Weber himself.

 

One question - why did you call your character Duvalier ? It sounds like a Havenite name (since Weber seems to have assimilated Havenites to French, the same way he assimilated Andermani to Sino-German). Is there a special point to it, or did you just like the name ?

 

...codename Tannenbaum. Gosh, I love your codenames. They sound deliciously out of place.

 

And that's it for chapter one, but I'm enjoying myself so far.

 

As for Duvalier, if you check the names of British officers during both World Wars, there are many French names among them, thanks to the Norman Invasion no doubt. I just tossed the name out and it fit her. You will note I made her of Scot's descent, having her suggest the name Operation Hogmanay for example.

 

The reason the back story got slammed in at the start is I was picturing someone fresh from hospital, being thrown back out to fight again, someone Admiral Harrington (Later Harrington-Alexander) had earmarked as one of her own protégés to help in her career. As I mentioned, the patronage system of the system Weber uses has flaws; people who have their careers assited because people want to curry favor, or because it's helping someone of the 'proper' class get what they deserve. But Harrington got those boosts because of her ability, and a good officer helps other good officers get what they deserve.

 

As for my style; the only person who could have given me higher praise is Mr. Weber himself. I do have a highly retentive memory, so the techical data is there for me to remember in my own mind.

 

I do make mistakes; loading 2000 Andermani pods originally (While I did not go back and correct, I did reduce it to 1000). I also created my own version of a first generation pod for the Andermani to deploy; about equal to the Mk 14s of the Manticoran Navy which would have had them at a disadvantage to the Manticorans if they had gone head to head, but advanced enough to give the Royal Navy fits is they had fought it out.

 

The reason they are sending those pods rather than full up Mk23s is pure disinformation; if the Sollies did fight them, they would 'assume' the shorter ranged pods were the best the Navy could deploy.

 

As for the code name; I wanted something that would not link directly, but a good intelligence agent could deduce, which a real codename avoids. If the plot had been really set up by Manticore, and the bombs went off, it would be a nice Christmas Present for the Queen, eh? In reality most Militaries have listings of words to use and pick them randomly dumping abything obvious. We wouldn;t have used Operation Sushi against Japan for example (Note Overlord, the Normandy Invasion, Pestilence, the invasion of Guadalcanal, or Cornet, the suggested Invasion of Honshu) And as Weber has pointed out, the US now uses two word combinations. It makes me wonder who came up with Iraqi Freedom...

[machievelli]

Dealing with the pain

 

“How are you feeling, Rebecca?” Suggins looked up to see her Captain standing beside the bunk in sickbay. She flushed, had she been so unaware that the captain could just sneak up on her? She started to sit up, and the captain set a hand on her shoulder. “It's only been a couple of days, Rebecca. The doc said bed rest, and you're getting it.” She pulled a chair over, and allowed the convalescent to raise the head of the bed.

 

Rebecca looked into those calm eyes, her own emotions in turmoil. “I'm fine, ma'am.”

 

“That isn't what the doc says.” Duvalier replied. “He said you've been moping.”

 

The younger woman flushed. “I do not mope, ma'am.”

 

“When someone is only shaken up and knocked unconscious, has no serious injuries, yet spends their convalescence staring at the the bulkhead and crying, what would you call it?”

 

“Grieving.”

 

“All right, I'll accept that.” The captain replied equably. “You've done some good work for us in this system; your whole squadron is up for a special unit commendation. They saved the squadron from serious damage, not to mention gutting the SDs in the outer system.”

 

“Yes.” Rebecca admitted.

 

“And while some would look at it by sheer numbers lost and say it was cheap, you paid cash for those victories.” Duvalier continued. “When we're done reviewing the records, I think everyone we lost will be getting a medal of sorts.” The girl merely looked at her silently. “You are up for the Manticore Cross as are the commanders of all of your Shrikes. Ruth Logan is up for the Osterman Cross for saving your ship from destruction.”

 

“Saving it from my arrogant presumption, you mean.”

 

Duvalier took her hand, squeezing hard enough that Rebecca tried to pull it back. She released the hand, and Rebecca clutched it. “Now that I have your full attention, lieutenant, listen up. This is command lecture 101; how to deal with your own losses. We're in a war. The first rule of war is some of your own people are going to die. Some will go before you, some with you into the maw of hell. Rule two is, no matter how good you are, no matter what you did right, some of your people will die, and you can't change it.”

 

“Don't you think Emily knew she could get killed, or Seacourt with that charge down Columbus' roof? Or the in system birds? All four of them maneuvered intentionally to draw fire from the ships of the squadron, and they paid for it. They all chose the manner of their deaths and we do not have the right to rebuke them after the fact.”

 

Suggins was caught in the memory; Reaper shifting her ECM so she suddenly looked like a battlecruiser. Vampire[/i[ turning to open her broadside to use every point defense cluster as her counter missiles were exhausted. Lillian moving into the path of the missile stream. She had sat there unable to even speak as her people, her friends died without her.

 

That was why she had chosen to ram her wedge into the dispatch boat. Oh she could claim it was the instructions to take prisoners if she could. But it was watching yet another squadron she was part of marching into death and leaving her behind to grieve. She didn't want to be left behind again.

 

“If you want to blame someone for the dead, blame me. I didn't have to agree to Emily's plan. I could have let them sit there untouched, because we were already out of range of the missiles of those we faced, and would have been for over an hour. Yet I agreed to allow a spoiling attack. You were way the hell in system, and couldn't have argued against it, so it was me that murdered them.” She waved a hand before Suggins could speak.

 

“They all died because I placed them where they were going. Oh, you chose which Shrikes were in which division, but I ordered your deployments.”

 

“That isn't what I was thinking, ma'am.”

 

“No?” The captain cocked her head.” I thought this was a one woman pity party. Every mistake was yours, and that gives you and only you the right to 'grieve'.” Duvalier's voice was sarcastic. “You lost people. We lost people. Counting Azrael we've lost half of Composite Squadron 1175. If it wasn't for Ruth's quick action, we'd be toasting sixty absent friends instead of fifty-six. Lieutenant Zachery would be mourning the loss of Sasha Dwyer, who helped get him off his ass again instead of spending half his free time here holding her hand and making wedding plans.

 

“The doctors told me during my psychiatric evaluations that reactions tend to be split in how survivors react when their people die first. Some feel they have failed, others guilty that they survived, even some just grateful to be alive. A third of my rehab time was with shrinks trying to get me over everyone who died aboard Loki in Chantilly. 465 of my crew died in that engagement; 95% of my people dead while I lay unconscious. It all fell on my Number One to do my job.” Duvalier explained.

 

“Five months later I woke up at Bassingford to find my crew butchered. There had been a court of inquiry, requested by Samuel Kane, my Exec. He felt he had failed. He had ordered the crew to abandon, but he didn't realize that communications was down. So he took what he could from the bridge, and got them to the boat bay. We took the boat bay crew with us, and it was only as the pinnace launched that he realized the crew was still trying to save the ship; they'd never gotten the order to abandon.

 

“Then they picked up Laura Cantrell, my chief engineer trying to report to the bridge using her suit radio. Fusion one was running away. She gave the abandon ship order while she tried to jettison it. She failed. It was later determined that about a third of the crew might have still been alive when the bottle lost containment and blew.

 

“I was exonerated; after all I was unconscious. Sam was exonerated because he had not realized that internal communications was completely down until Laura's report was made. He never accepted the court's decision. A month before I came back to the land of the living he used his sidearm.” She mimed shooting herself in the head.

 

“Sam had not seen action since his middie cruise, and that had been in Silesia on a battlecruiser. He'd never been in real combat, and never at the tempo we're facing. I chose him for my exec to get him some experience.” She gave a hollow laugh. “I was the one he sent his last letter to. He thanked me for my patience, then begged me to not think ill of him before taking the blame for all of those deaths.

 

“I received that letter after being told about his suicide. I didn't want to accept their decision either because I had been at fault, not him. I kept going through scenarios in my head; if I had only chosen another, or allowed the Admiralty to fill the position. A more experienced officer might have realized sooner. The fusion bottle didn't blow for almost ten minutes, I was sure someone more experienced would have caught it in time. Realized communications was down and used the suit radios to pass the order to abandon. Instead of 26 survivors, there would have been over one hundred and fifty it the estimate was correct.

 

“I had murdered them by my own incompetence, and my good friend took the blame and his own life to atone for it.”

 

“They only said might have been alive.”

 

“Do you think about 'might have been' when you condemn yourself?” Duvalier challenged. Suggins shook her head slowly. “Neither did I. They put me back together before I could follow Sam's example. That's why I'm here now talking to you. Because I don't want you blaming yourself for might have beens. I need you back on your feet. La Bianca is good, but he's not you.”

 

“Yes, ma'am.”

 

Proud Record

 

As much as the talk had helped, Rebecca Suggins was still depressed. She looked up as her commanders trooped in pushing a hoverchair. “We need you, skipper.” Before she could say anything La Bianca picked her up and set her in the chair.

 

“What in the hell is happening?” She snarled. “Doc! Are you going to let them just drag me out of sick bay?”

 

Jeffereys looked up from the chart he was looking at. “What are your intentions, officers?”

 

“We're re-christening the squadron.”

 

“Again?” The doctor sighed. “Look, guys. You can't come up with a reason to drink yourselves into a stupor every day.”

 

“This is important doc.” Abraham Watson told him. “We need the skipper's approval.”

 

“This one time I will allow it. Only two drinks for her.” Despite her protests she found herself being pushed down the companionway to the lift.

 

Her protests died outside of Pri-fly. Above the hatch was a new logo. Pankowski had done the same logo as she had on her now destroyed ship, without the udders. The figure stood, her legs shoulder width, her hands on the hilt of a sword before her, with a Mona Lisa smile. Above her to the left were representations of the two SDs killed, the third where they got half credit for the kill, then the dispatch boat and freighter. The Logo read:

 

You Want A piece of me? Bring it!

 

They looked at Rebecca Suggins. What they didn't expect was for her to be laughing hysterically.

 

All the ducks in a row.

 

At 1400 local time, Rebecca walked down the ramp onto the station, followed by Jinhua and Tomas Seguin. They walked to a shuttle car guarded by three marines, and rode it over to the Naval section of the station, where five Superdreadnoughts were being refitted. With the six already completed, that meant about a quarter of the capital ships of this mothball fleet had been readied, though as yet were without crews. Three LACs had stopped the Asimov at the fleet orbit from continuing work, and no shuttles were allowed to go near the orbiting warships that were ready.

 

Rebecca nodded to the Solarian officers, Admiral Bartley, Commodore Raisic, Captain Soltoburn of Magellan, and their staff intelligence officers. “Please be seated.” She said. She stayed standing as they sat. “Lady and gentlemen, we have some information to pass on.” She began with Sallinger's confession, Jinhua handing out data chips to the Solarian officers.

 

“You can verify the authenticity; these are directly from our own communications logs. But the fact that he lived to make such a statement is disturbing." Then De Croix's accusation.

 

“Our squadron could not have placed explosives to kill Admiral Tshombe. Your own records would prove that. But someone did.” Then she went through the information about previous assassinations that were unexplained as yet in their own sector. “We have ascertained that there was only one crewman assigned to the Flag Bridge of SLNS Marco Polo who was not present during the action, the assistant Communications officer, Lieutenant Commander Lisbet Shannon.

 

“Considering the circumstances leading to Admiral Tshombe's death, we are taking Commander Shannon into custody. We believe she could have been adjusted to act as an assassin aimed at admiral Sallinger and failed only because she was incapacitated. Having her alive will give our medical personnel a chance to discover how the adjustments were done. We will promise to take good care of her, and all research into her condition will be recorded for delivery according to the Deneb Accords. We do not consider her a murderer, we consider her an additional victim.”

 

Finally the Jessyk Combine records, and the discovery of the mines. More data chips were passed out. “On these chips you have full records of all access done on the Mesan computers. This includes footage of our people discovering the weapons still in bonded storage with the records from that facility. We will escort your own representatives aboard one of the SDs in orbit to verify our claims of sabotage, another group aboard the SDs at present being refurbished, and a third group to see how far along their plan is by checking one still in the mothball anchorage.

 

“Since it can be verified from your own records that none of our personnel have been aboard the ones in orbit, if there are unplanned charges on those ships that will prove someone else had planted them. We are taking only two computers from the Jessyk facility here. The rest we leave for your own intelligence operatives. We'll leave the capture of any locals who are part of this plot up to you.”

 

She sighed. None of the other captains had agreed with Jinhua. Even being obsolescent pieces of crap, there were almost 30 SDs out there, and a foolish enough commander might believe Stalin's old adage about quantity having a quality all it's own regardless of the lives lost in an attempt. Not to mention 80 battlecruisers, 150 light and heavy cruisers, and almost 200 destroyers. “Finally, once we have done this, all warships not presently in dock will be destroyed in place by us before departure.”

 

“That's monstrous!” Bartley roared. He was 40 centimeters taller than Rebecca, and he stood now, looming over her. “How dare you-”

 

Rebecca slammed her hand down on the table, shocking the man into silence. No one junior to a Solarian Admiral dared to interrupt. “How dare you attack our ships in this system without a declaration of war? This is not the first time the League has acted outside the law, and I doubt it will be the last! If I leave you all of those ships I have no doubt we will face them in combat, and as you have already seen and heard, we have been blowing them to hell in job lots already!

 

“My own command, a Collier, destroyed six of your newest vessels in less than twenty minutes! What do you think will happen if you actually face ships of your same weight of metal? How many of your men will have to die before you realize it will take a slaughter of your own men to defeat us?” She glared at him. “I would rather destroy those vessels now before you put almost a million men and women on them to die for your nation's hubris!

 

“And according to law, I have that legal right. So your mothball fleet will be destroyed as I have explained. End of discussion.”

[machievelli]

Deeper mysteries and more threats

 

That should have been that, but it wasn't. The Sollies had held out on checking all of the SDs in mothballs rather than just one, which had been mined. Seven emplaced mines were discovered, but the most disturbing fact was that since the arrival of the mines on the station, only one of them had been visited by a shuttle from the station. The others had only been assessed after the arrival of the Asimov class L. Ron Hubbard. Instead of merely boarding and taking the crew into custody, the Sollies had treated it as routine; they had contacted the captain of the vessel and asked for a listing of who had gone aboard the vessels. Minutes later the exec of the ship had replied. The captain had called in the Bosun for the list. That man had gunned down the captain, deleted the work files for the ship, then killed himself to evade capture. The records of who had been sent aboard died with him. Checking the cargo aboard, 14 mines were discovered, still in crates. Another mine was found attached to the Hubbard itself, suggesting that there might be more adjusted or suborned personnel aboard since emplacing and arming them was not a one man job.

 

The Sollies asked permission to use all of the ships so equipped for the delicate task of removing the mines. Rebecca had agreed, since as Jinhua pointed out, from what she could see, the anti-tamper devices were extremely thorough. She commented that with the eighteen ships to work with the odds were that only three or four would survive as they tried one thing after another to disarm them.

 

After the last SD was towed away from the mothball orbit, the pinnaces and cargo shuttles towed out pods. For this they didn't need the longer ranged models; they merely deployed forty pods modified to fire single missiles. Then they were fired from 13 million kilometers; extreme range for the older missiles. Against non evading targets, it was easy.

 

Once the ships had been destroyed, the small craft returned to their mother ships and the squadron began to move away from the planet.

 

“Contact!” Abigail called. “Hyper footprint.” She gave the locus, and her fingers danced. Considering they had spent almost three weeks in system, her suggestion that the recon drones be deployed to watch for new arrivals had been accepted. That meant four were close enough for real time reporting on the twelve ships that had suddenly appeared.

 

“Two SD sized, but they aren't in our fleet listing.” Abigail reported. “Maneuvering to get a view through the side of the wedge. Four Gladiator class heavy cruisers. six War Harvest class destroyers. Bearing 045. Wedges up, but- satus change! Now inbound on intercept course at 383Gs.”

 

“Time to engagement range for Mk23s and Hammers?” Rebecca asked.

 

“They will be within range for the Mk23s in one hour.” Zachary reported. “Within range of the Hammers forty-five minutes later.”

 

“Helm, new course 45 degrees starboard, away from the enemy.” Duvalier tapped her all hands button on the intercom. “All hands, this is the captain. We have new arrivals. Two unidentified ships in the SD range with four heavy cruisers and six destroyers. Everyone have a good meal, then man your stations. We will call you to battle stations at need. Captain out.”

 

The ships of the small squadron turned, the enemy altering course to pursue. “Got him!” Abigail sang out. “One of our drones is 300,000 kilometers from the big boys. Bringing up the data now.” Rebecca brought up her own repeater. Almost 9 megatons, what were... She shut it off as Abigal whispered. “My, god. CLACs. Sollie CLACs!”

 

“Communications from the enemy, Ma'am.” Lieutenant Heinreid reported. “From Commander Lithgow, communications officer for Vice Admiral Takagawa. We are ordered to heave to and surrender.”

 

“Any information on Takagawa, Gaelin?”

 

“No we-” He stopped. “Commander Kiel has opened her files. Martin Takagawa. One hundred years old, graduate class of '44,” He snorted. “Ranked 6501 out of eight thousand At Battle Fleet's Annapolis Academy. Taught basic tactical at the academy until seven years ago.” He looked up. "About the time reports of Operation Buttercup percolated through the Sollie intelligence network. Strongest and most recent Battle Fleet advocate of light attack craft tactics; surprising, since LACs are deployed only by Frontier Fleet and system fleets. Reassigned to their Office of Ship Design at that time. Nothing more recent.”

 

“I'd say arriving here with a brace of brand new Battle Fleet CLACs can be defined as something recent, Number One.” She chided him.

 

The intercom chimed and Rebecca tapped it. “Yes, Jinhua?”

 

“Data from our intelligence being forwarded.”

 

“Oh good. Gaelin, check ONI's information as well.” The lift opened and messmen came out followed by Oselli. “It looks like a working lunch, people.”

 

The information was not good. The combatants in the Haven sector (as the Sollies called the region containing the Manticoran Alliance and Republic of Haven) had between them fielded five CLAC designs to date; the Minotaur and Hydra class, the Grayson Covington class, the Republic's Aviary class, and the Empire's Graf Zeppelin class in order of size. The smaller CLACs carried 100 and 135 respectively, the Aviarys carried 250, and the Graf Zeppelins originally carried 245 of their Adler class which had been designed from the LACs fielded during Operation Trojan Horse. With the alliance, the Graf Zeppelin's were being retrofitted to carry their own version of the the three LAC types fielded by Manticore, though they called them Würger (Shrike in German) Zobel]/i] (Actually German for Sable, a relative of the ferret on Earth), and Flamberge- instead of Katana. Andermani intelligence did have some information about the prototype the Sollies were testing, and had assumed the larger hull and load out.

 

The Sollies had not received all of the data captured by the Republic since Operation Thunderbolt, so the Sollie LACs would probably be closer to the Cimiterre class in design; no real improvement in the energy range, heavy on missiles, with a short endurance; 96 hours in comparison to the weeks the fission powered Manticoran designs had. But either of the larger CLACs could swamp them if Rebecca let them.

 

“Contact the squadron, Millie.”

 

“Open mike, relays using FTL communications.”

 

“Thank you.” She waited as the screens filled. Tomaso, Captain Carlyle of HMS Hel Captain Regis of the Valiant class HMS Surprise, and Captain Rondeau, commanding her sister ship, HMS Captain. “Gentlemen and lady, we're a bit outweighed here.”

 

“Are you sure?” Isabelle Rondeau asked. “We could have a game of bridge while you handle it all again.” There was a general laugh. None of them had faced such odds before, but that didn't seem to affect their morale.

 

“That wouldn't be fair. Can't have you playing incomprehensible card games; everyone gets to work this time.” Rebecca teased back. She made some notations, then sent them to the other captains. “You will first pick up full loads of missile pods from Isabeau and move to here.” A line three million kilometers closer. “Our LACs will be here,” Another line again three million kilometers closer than the squadron, then a third line; Witch Maiden and Isabeau.

 

“Witch Maiden will target the CLACs if they launch fighters. Once they are destroyed, we'll take the rest of the big boys. You and the LACs will target the LACs as they come at us. We're anticipating between 450 hundred and 500 birds. All of you have between six and 11 million kilometers range on our LACs, so they will allow you to engage first, and only open fire when the enemy closes to their own range. They will fall back on the squadron to within one million kilometers and support you from that point on.”

 

Rebecca finished the last of the hamburger and soup, nodding as Os removed the tray. “The enemy admiral sent two additional messages, captain.”

 

“And you are only telling me why now, Millie?”

 

“Pretty much the second was another demand that we surrender. The last was a demand that you reply before things get ugly.”

 

“Ah, veiled threats.”

 

“Captain, LACs deploying.” Abigail reported. On the screen hundreds of red lights began flashing as the CLACs flushed their birds. They didn't bother with forming up, they merely charged toward the squadron at over 600Gs. The LACs were closer from their very acceleration alone. The raid count was light; only 440.

 

“And not so subtle threats.” Rebecca tapped the button on her intercom.

 

“Prifly, Suggins here.”

 

“I know that as efficient as you are, you have already made sure the LACs are ready to fight.”

 

“Yes ma'am. All six are loaded for defensive operations.”

 

“And your pilots are ready to launch?”

 

“More than ready, ma'am.”

 

“Launch and move into a position on stealth mode at your discretion, Rebecca. You've been following the briefing for the squadron?”

 

“Yes ma'am. We're ready to go.”

 

“Millie, let me hear this last demand.”

 

The person speaking wasn't even the admiral. It was still lieutenant commander Lithgow. “HMS Witch Maiden you are accused of piracy and threatening Copperplate Station. You will surrender and prepare for boarding.

 

“All other Manticoran vessels will be allowed to depart if you do. However if they attempt to defend you, they will also be counted as guilty.”

 

“Another message.” Heinreid reported. “Sent as they began to deploy their LACs.”

 

Again the commander. “Witch Maiden, as you can see you are hopelessly outgunned. For the sake of your crews alone, we give you twenty minutes to surrender.”

 

“Time to Hammer maximum range?”

 

“One hour exactly, ma'am.”

 

“Record. This is Captain Rebecca Duvalier, commanding HMS Witch Maiden. I see your LACs have launched, and we refuse to accept your claim. We assisted a liner in departing station, and replied to a threat from Copperplate station against an unarmed vessel. We will depart the system in-” She paused the recording.

 

“One hour, ten minutes.”

 

She started recording again, “-one hour, ten minutes. Any attempt to force us to remain will be answered with lethal force. As for your threatening to use the LACs against us, back in history when there was what was called the Cold War still going on, the American press tried to get the people to view with alarm when their primary enemy, the old Soviet Union fielded their first aircraft carrier. The Pentagon, the primary command center for the US military of the time replied, and I paraphrase; 'It took us a year to know how to use them; we already know how to kill them.” She touched the com stud. “Millie?”

 

“Good recording on the chip.”

 

“Ma'am,” Hughes called out, “Abby sent me a close up of one of those LACs. They are some kind of Peregrine class. But like nothing I have ever seen.”

 

Rebecca brought up the class. It was the most recent LAC deployed by the League, though that mean almost a century old. In fact until the Royal Navy had begun construction and deployment of the LACs that had been assigned to the commerce raiders used in the first war with Haven, they had been among the best deployed anywhere.

 

Like the War Harvest class destroyers, they were constantly being refitted, usually by local yards so no two were alike from system to system, but all were usually 17-17,500 tons, top speed using the 80 percent rule, 590Gs, but these were pulling 610. “What's different?”

 

“Their radar and lidar match the Pergrines spotted in the Amaterasu system, but after that, pretty much across the board, ma'am. Mass reading on these are just under 15,000 tons. The Amaterasu Industries upgraded models usually carry 30 tubes; fifteen Strella model 4 LAC missiles to a broadside. But these are armed with only five tubes to a broadside, and they are slanted to fire forward at a sharper angle than the Grayson Purity class or Avalon C; a seventy degree slant.”

 

Curious. Both cruisers carried missiles considered too large for their class, which was why the thirty degree offset of the bore was necessary; but with the off-bore capability of modern Alliance missiles, it wasn't enough to matter. And Amaterasu was where one of the main Battle Fleet shipyards run by Technodyne were. “Analysis?”

 

The three people at tactical looked at each other. Hughes motioned toward Abigail, who replied. “I think they took the smallest upgrade on their shipboard missiles and retrofitted them to Peregrine hulls. If I am correct, that would mean these are armed with the Spatha upgrades, equal to what the battlecruisers were firing at us during our last battle. No way they're using the Javelins or Trebuchet variants; anything bigger would mean fewer tubes.”

 

Her mind raced. It would be a quick and dirty fix. By using an existing ship design, merely ripping out the old launchers and installing what would fit, it would mean a LAC only slightly behind the power curve compared to the Republic's Cimeterres, but with a heavier and longer ranged punch than your would anticipate from such a small craft. And in enough numbers, a serious danger.

 

The original LACs deployed when the class was envisioned six centuries earlier had carried what were considered destroyer weight missiles back then; even smaller than a modern day LAC missile. But in the third century post diaspora, design of the larger missiles for more modern combatants began and continued until an LAC couldn't deploy them because they were quite honestly too big for enough box launchers to make it worthwhile. Unless you had a lot of LACs, like these guys did.

 

“Assuming missiles as efficient as the Spatha upgrades, when will they be within range of our cruisers?”

 

“Forty-seven minutes, ma'am” Zachary reported.

 

She felt frustration. She didn't have enough long range missiles to kill every one of the enemy ships. Oh she could kill both CLACs, but she'd shoot herself dry killing the LACs before the screen because they were the main threat. Once she had she would be limited to Hammers; with only a 26.5 million kilometer range. If the screen commander over there had the brains it took to pour water out of a boot, he'd retreat to avoid her fire, as only Gwynhafer had missiles that could chase them down. Fleeing into hyper was out. Even if they let her run, she couldn't take the battle into hyper; the system was on the edge of one of the largest hyper waves in the League. The missiles would be worthless and if it were her six ships against ten warships, she would lose.

 

Then again... “Millie, delete my message. Pick the closest recon drone, and patch me through on standard radio aimed at the CLAC sending the messages to us. Signal all ships to form as ordered.”

 

She watched as her command moved as instructed. The LACs marked as in stealth were already in position, and it would be maybe five minutes more before the cruisers were also ready. “We're going to open the entire can of whup-ass this time, people, Tactical, begin dropping a fifty pod salvo, targeting the flag.”

 

She leaned back. “Contact the flag, Millie.”

 

The same lieutenant commander came on, confused because there was only a carrier wave. “There's nothing on this channel, Simmons.”

 

“This is Captain Rebecca Duvalier, Royal Manticoran Navy, commanding both HMS Witch Maiden and the squadron you are threatening. We are not surrendering. You have one minute to desist your pursuit and recall your LACs before I open fire on your flagship.”

 

“Who does she think she is?” The commander asked rhetorically over the open mike.

 

“I think am the one who is about to kill six thousand odd Solarian naval personnel.” She replied. He flinched. “We are communicating using a recon drone and our FTL technology, so this is happening in real time. You now have forty-five seconds.”

 

“You're bluffing. No one has missiles able to hit us at this range.”

 

“I don't play poker because I don't bluff, commander. You now have twenty-five seconds. So I suggest you put your admiral on, or face the consequences.”

 

“The Admiral is not available, Captain.”

 

“Then on his head it shall be. Ten seconds.” The man just kept glaring at her as time ran out.

 

“Engage.” Fifty pods leaped into life, aimed at the first CLAC. The commander paled as he saw the sheer weight of metal coming at them. “At this range, our missiles will take seven minutes eighteen seconds to reach you. You have six minutes to surrender all of your vessels. If you have not done so by that time, we will engage both your other CLAC and your LACs before they have reached their range of my command. There will be no further offers to allow the surrender of any of your vessels in that case. I will merely assume you all have the same death wish and annihilate you.”

 

“You are insane!”

 

“Possibly. Perhaps fobbing me off to a flunky ticked me off. But you will be dead in six minutes, forty seconds.”

 

“This is an act of war!”

 

“And attempting to seize my ships on spurious charges is not? I am sure a later Sollie court would judge your actions to be correct, but I would not believe such a court if they said water was wet. Besides you will not be alive to hear the verdict. You now have six minutes, fifteen seconds.”

 

The crew watched as the enemy reacted. The CLACs were equipped with the Aegis system used by Solarian SDs, but fighting the task force had given them a good read on the standard gambits, and whenever missiles lost lock, they redirected the wanderers back onto course as the tactical crew added the exclusion file. Rebecca hit the mute button. “Diedre have the missiles arc over the LACs with a minimum separation of one point five million kilometers. If they are using a more modern version than the R13, I want to see it.”

 

“Understood, ma'am.” She and her team began coding frantically. The R13 LAC counter missile manufactured by Mitsubishi-Vympel was the newest in the Solarian inventory according to ONI; a little less modern than the counter missiles used by Manticoran LACs of the prewar era, with an estimated range of 1.25 million kilometers. The missile stream passed untouched before turning back onto course.

 

“Captain-” The Sollie communications officer began.

 

Rebecca cut him off. “I am bored with you, commander Lithgow. The next voice I hear had best be your admiral.”

 

“He is unavailable.”

 

“I don't care if he's locked in his personal head with something racy to read. He now has four minutes, eleven seconds.”

 

The screen went to a logo of a blue Japanese dragon, then to another, older man. “This is Captain Hendricks commanding SLNS Soryu. Self destruct your missiles at once!”

 

“Captain, I will speak to your admiral, and only your admiral.”

 

“As you were told, he is unavailable.”

 

“Then that is what the court of inquiry will report when the loss of your ships is investigated. You have three minutes, forty-five seconds.”

 

“Be reasonable!”

 

“I think wanting to talk to the senior man before I kill thousands of his men is very reasonable. You have three minutes, twenty-five seconds.” The missiles were now almost thirty-five million kilometers downrange, and approaching forty percent of light speed.

 

“Radio side-lobe from Soryu!” Heinreid shouted. “Tight beam...” She turned toward the captain, confused. “Aimed at the middle of their LAC swarm.”

 

The clock ran down as the missiles closed inexorably on their target. Only two of the Gladiators were close enough to offer support. The missiles would enter their firing range just under a minute before the time limit expired.

 

The cruisers opened fire with their counter missiles, but fire discipline went from problematic to pathetic as Dragons Teeth erupted into life. Of the salvo over 450 survived to stream past the cruisers bound for the CLAC.

 

Then the wedges died. Rebecca nodded. “Blow them, Diedre.” Seconds later, the remaining 410 missiles exploded. “Millie, use all of the recons drones, omnidirectional broadcast.”

 

“Ready ma'am.”

 

“All Solarian vessels; you will bring up your wedges and slow to rest relative to the primary. You will not delete any data bases. Any ship that attempts to close with us or that deletes their data base will be destroyed. This is your only warning.” She thumbed the mute turned. “Number one, do we have a large enough group to man a Gladiator and some of those LACs with prize crews?”

 

“It will be tight out of our own resources. But I'll ask the squadron. Between us and the three older cruisers, we should.”

 

“Set it up. Millie, general signal to the squadron, decelerate to rest.” She turned back to the screen where the Solarian Captain was breathing a sigh of relief. She thumbed the mute again. “I am still waiting for Admiral Takagawa.”

 

“He is aboard the command LAC.”

 

“Connect us, please.”

 

The Captain nodded, and touched his panel. The bridge of the small ship looked unbelievably cramped, even compared to the Cimeterres captured at Marsh. Of course, the design was a century old. The man sitting in the command seat glared at her. “I am Admiral Takagawa, Captain Duvalier.”

 

“It is good to speak with you at last, sir.” She glanced down at the scroll across her screen. “Considering the lack of hard data from our war, your article in Battle Fleet Proceedings on LAC tactics in a modern threat environment seven years ago was almost prescient.”

 

His harsh look mellowed. “You've read it?”

 

“No. But my ship's senior intelligence officer did, and that was her opinion.”

 

“I wish Battle Fleet had listened sooner.” He sighed, leaning back in the seat. “Well, you've won this round. I have surrendered, so what are your terms?”

 

Rebecca sighed. “I hate to do it, sir, but I will be taking three of your LACs and one of the Gladiators as prizes. Then it is a choice between scuttling all of your remaining hyper capable ships, or scuttling the screen and the LACs leaving you the CLACs.”

 

He looked grim. “Are you offering me a choice?”

 

“Yes, sir. If we scuttle the CLACs the LACs aren't a threat that can follow us. And we could handle both if you try to follow with them alone.” She considered, then plunged on. “When I say you, I should mean your next senior officer. You and whatever staff members you wish to bring will be going with us.”

 

“Your prisoners.” He sounded as if he'd bitten an orange and discovered it was a lemon.

 

“As our honored guests. My senior intelligence officer, and the commander of our indigenous squadron would be glad to discuss your insights into LAC tactics.”

 

He looked at her for a long moment. “Scuttle the LACs.”

 

“Yes, sir. My boarding party will be there in thirty minutes. With your permission, we will download your library. After all, we can't expect you to go with us without it.”

 

“And my steward?”

 

“You may bring that person along as well, Admiral. He and my own steward can share recipes.”

 

“She.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

The next hours were hectic. All of the pinnaces from the Solarian Task Group and the Squadron deployed and began transferring the LAC crews to the CLACs. Two of the smaller ships, with prize crews aboard, approached and were tractored into the empty LAC bays aboard Witch Maiden.

 

Martin Takagawa stood as the pinnace approached his command LAC, Tetsuko. Five figures in SUTs came across to the airlock, and stepped out onto the deck. They were led by a woman. “Admiral?” She asked. He nodded. “I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Rebecca Suggins, Grayson navy, commander of Composite Squadron 1175 assigned to HMS Witch Maiden.” She held out her hand. “I read your article before I came over. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

 

He looked at her extended hand for a long moment, then shook it.

 

“Sir, my crew, Helmswoman 1st class Sasha Dwyer, 1st impeller tech Fengniao Klumbach, her sister 1st class Computer tech Cao Mei Klumbach, and 3rd class Fusion Engineering rating Francis Dollaryde.” He shook hands with each of them. “Any of your command crew that you feel are necessary can remain. The others can transfer to the pinnace.”

 

“Your five and myself should be able to handle her, Lieutenant.” She nodded. The crew spread out to their stations as the other Solarians came by. Suggins watched the men and women. They seemed to respect an Admiral ready to die alongside them in such a fragile ship instead of sitting safely aboard the carrier. Takagawa noticed her scrutiny. “A true commander leads, lieutenant.”

 

“I understand and agree, sir. I have already asked my Captain's permission, and extend an offer to you. We have all three variants of our own LACs aboard the Witch Maiden. If you will agree to give your parole, I would be honored if our crews could take you on a tour of them.”

 

He snorted. “What could they offer?”

 

She grinned, motioning toward the bridge. She waved for him to take his own command chair again as the small craft began to run toward Witch Maiden. Then, like ghosts, a trio of larger LAC slid alongside to escort them. “That, sir, is a Katana class Anti-LAC craft of my own navy. That one is a Ferret class which is heavy on missiles. The last is a Shrike class anti-shipping variant with a Battlecruiser class Grazer. All of them can pull almost 200Gs more acceleration than you have shown us so far.”

 

He gazed at the larger ship in wonder. “Those I would like to see much closer. I give my parole.”

[machievelli]

A/N I noticed only as I completed it, that Rebecca Suggins should have been Rebecca Huggins.

 

Yes, I do make mistakes.

 

Calm Before the Storm

 

Three days out of Capwell, the squadron had to transition between two grav waves. With Gwynhafer in the lead, Hel and [/i]Captain[/i] to either side of Isabeau Surprise and the captured SLNS Commitus on rearguard, Rebecca asked the other captains over for a final briefing and dinner. The ships continued forward as the pinnaces carried them over. Captain Breecher of Isabeau might have felt out of place, but the small collier was a big part of the coming operation.

 

Rebecca laid out her plan; dropping out of hyper at slow speed 20 million kilometers from Bifrost Astro control. As the cruisers closed, Isabeau and Witch Maiden would deploy enough pods to kill an SD squadron, just in case. Once the cruisers had taken control, they would collect the pods, if any remaining, and transport them to within five million kilometers where they would lay interlocking layers of both Hammers and older Mk20 pods before Witch Maiden and Commitus transited to go on to Spindle.

 

The captains hammered at the plan, looking for weaknesses, a process that took almost four hours. At the end of it, they broke before dinner. Os, with the assistance of Warrant Steward Saunders, Admiral Takagawa's steward turned out a bravura performance. Of her own crew only Gaelin, Jinhua, Lieutenant Huggins and Abigail were invited.

 

“So you know nothing of our nation?” Seguin asked the Admiral.

 

“Comparative governments is an elective in our universities.” Takagawa admitted. “Even in the Academy.”

 

“It's first year syllabus for us at Saganami Island.” Harcourt Carlyle replied. “And it can get you kicked into supply or Buships if you don't do well in the course. Abigail,” He looked down at the midshipman. “How'd you do in that course?”

 

“I passed, but just barely.” She admitted. “Trying to figure out the different Silesian political parties almost killed my chances.”

 

“Well I did only slightly better.” Rebecca commented. “A flat 2.9 grad point average. But that was under Commander Gowan back in the old days-”

 

“Yes.” Tomas commented. “Back when you had to kick the dinosaurs out of your path, walking from Earth to Manticore, both ways in hip deep snow.” They all laughed.

 

“And what does your class say about the League?”

 

“It depends on which class.” Isabelle replied. “Dealing with the League on the political level is like dealing with the ancient God kings of Persia, where someone labeled as the Voice of God spoke because mere humans should not hear his perfect voice.”

 

“It has survived for almost a millennia, does that not count for something?”

 

“Please, sir. No politics.” Rebecca asked. “Your bureaucrats have brought us to the brink of war by ignoring what is in front of their eyes, and anything we might say about your government beyond that simple statement would be confrontational.”

 

Takagawa accepted the statement with good grace. “These LACs you have deployed... how old is the design?”

 

“About eight years.” Huggins replied. “The original Shrike A-s were used during the last battles of the first war, as were the first model of the Ferrets. The Katanas were designed during the ceasefire by my own nation.”

 

“Grayson designed it?” Takagawa was astonished. “Correct me if I am wrong, but less than two decades ago your system was using technology a millennia out of date.”

 

“Oh you're not wrong, sir.” Huggins replied. “But actually I am an immigrant to Grayson. My father was one of the last Chief Elders of the old Masadan Theocracy. I grew up learning all of the new technology without having to forget so much that was outdated.” She sipped her iced tea. “But I discovered as a child that the Graysons always look for other ways to do anything; like a cook handed a cordon bleu recipe but tweaking it anyway. The cruiser Gwynhafer on point is based on a Grayson modification of a Manticoran design. Across the board, if you take any Manticoran design my people build, we've put our own stamp on them.”

 

“So why come up with, what did you call them? Anti LAC craft?”

 

“The Graysons assumed that once the Alliance deployed CLACs and modern LACs, the enemy would follow suit. So Grayson designed LACs designed to kill other LACs.”

 

“How have they done in combat?”

 

“The standard appreciation by most LAC tacticians is that the Republic LACs deployed need to outnumber a force of Katanas by four to one just to lose to them.”

 

“And my own design would be eaten alive by your Katanas.” He said sadly. When he had toured the Katana class he had been like a child at Christmas. He had asked almost tentatively if they could run a scenario of his own design of the Solarian LACs against what had been deployed by the other nations of the sector. They had fared best against Shrikes alone, with their longer ranged punch they had annihilated the force sent against them. Against unsupported Ferrets]/i] or Ferrets covering a force of Shrikes they did a bit worse; the Ferrets could keep the longer ranged missile hits to a minimum until their own missiles could begin to kill the Solarian strike, though even they were decimated.

 

Katanas survived in sufficient numbers to decimate the attacking Solarian LACs. Oddly enough the Republic's Cimiterre did best using their old Triple Ripple or modern Zizka maneuver by launching their dirty missiles from 12 million kilometers and allowing them to approach on ballistic courses. No one told him, but with Republic SDs at their back using their MDMs, or any of the Manticoran LACs with the same back up would slaughter his design in job lots.

 

“Come, we have a few things remaining on our plates, ladies and gentlemen.” Saunders and Oselli came out bringing a large cake shaped like a Solarian LAC. “Cindy mentioned that tomorrow is your birthday, sir.” The cake was set down in front of Takagawa. Cindy Saunders lit the candles, and the officers sang happy birthday to the older man. He looked around, then stood, blowing out the candles. They applauded as he cut the cake.

 

“What did you wish for, sir?” Huggins asked.

 

He looked around. “That peace returns between us.”

 

“Here, here.” Tomas replied. They ate, the conversation going to lighter things. Rebecca wiped her mouth, and looked at Abigail. She stood. No one who saw her would recognize the young woman that Rebecca had once slapped down hard.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Queen!" She called.

 

“The Queen!” Everyone drank. But before anyone could react beyond that, Huggins stood.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, "I give you Grayson, the Keys, the Sword, and the Tester!"

 

The Manticoran officers replied, and since all were used to this toast save Takagawa it went well. Jinhua stood, her voice a proud note. “Damen und Herren, gebe ich Ihnen das Kaiser, das Kaiserin, den Kronprinz und die Kronprinzessin!”

 

The reply in English, toasted the Emperor, his wife, his son and heir, and that man's wife.

 

Seguin stood. “Compadres, Viva la Raza!”

 

“Amen!” Abigail cried out.

 

Rebecca looked to the Admiral. “Sir, our navies haven't spent a lot of time in social circumstances. If you would?”

 

Takagawa stood. “I know it will sound odd, ladies and gentlemen.” He raised his glass. “I give you the League, The Fleet, and the peace they protect.”

 

A last Surprise

 

Rebecca hugged Irene, carrying her down the passageway to Gaelin's quarters where she set the kitten in Holmes' survival module. The treecat gathered her in, nodding as Rebecca closed the module. She walked down the passageway to the lift, then took it to the passage leading to the bridge. Everyone was in position when she arrived. The screens still showed hyperspace; it was just about a minute before they dropped into N space.

 

“All battle stations manned.” Gaelin reported. She nodded, racking her helmet as her chair monitors deployed. “Thirty seconds.”

 

She sat, leaning back as the count came down to five. She was ready.

 

They came over the wall, sails flaring as they dissipated the energy.

 

“Sensors- oh god, Captain! A Havenite Mars class heavy cruiser! Range, one million kilometers!” Abigail screamed.

 

“What?” Rebecca brought up the repeater. The silhouette was unmistakable! “Tactical! Snapshot!”

 

“Plotting.” Hughes was as stunned as the others, but training took over. “Wait one, ma'am. The cruiser dropped her wedge!”

 

“She did what?” The scanner was blank, but a few seconds later she could see the radar return. The ship was really there. The enemy was passing port to starboard at a pace more like a cruiser on picket.

 

“Ma'am, com signal from the Havenite vocal only.”

 

“Let's hear it.”

 

“Manitcoran Vessels! Hold fire, I repeat, hold fire!”

 

“Republican cruiser, Identify yourself.”

 

“RNS Karttikeya, Captain Duvalier commanding.”

 

Rebecca wanted to giggle. “What a surprise, Captain. Captain Duvalier commanding HMS Witch Maiden here. State your purpose.”

 

“I was sent here supporting the team capturing the Bifrost Hyper Bridge. Request permission to report to command, Captain?”

 

“Why, cousin? To report your surrender?”

 

“Cousin? Oh.” He gave a deep throaty laugh. “Signaling your arrival.”

 

“I would rather not, Karttikeya. Give me a few moments here.” She hit the mute button.

 

“The bastards.” Gaelin snarled. She looked at him. “What do you think happened, Ma'am? They heard about the Yawata strike, stripped every system they could and threw them at Home Fleet! If they hit Home Fleet again with as many as they did before they'd survive long enough to bring Manticore itself under their guns. And if that failed all they would have to do is send two fleets the same size; they could do that and blow us apart!” He looked ugly with his hate. “They beat us, skipper, face it!”

 

She felt the same sinking feeling when they had IDed a Havenite cruiser here. No doubt once they had captured the Home system, they had sent ships out to let any detached ships know about the new management.

 

“Ma'am.” Abigail turned from her position. “We're getting mass readings from near the wormhole. There are two ships there. One is a Havenite minelayer, the other is Manticoran, the Saganami B class Isabella Banton.”

 

“Gaelin. Gaelin!” He snapped out of his funk. “Who commands the Banton.”

 

He turned to his station. “Casea Sandoval.”

 

She nodded. Of all the people she knew from her own class and those around it, Casea would have been the least likely to go over. “Captain Duvalier, who is your commander?”

 

“I am acting in concert with Captain Sandoval of HMS Isabella Banton.” He replied. “If you do not mind, Captain. I will let her explain the situation. We will stay here under your guns until she has.”

 

“Very good. Millie, contact the Banton with the FTL com.”

 

“Yes, ma'am.” She turned to her board. “Banton ready, ma'am.”

 

Rebecca stared at Casea. Her heart sank at the sight of the woman trim in her uniform. The woman smiled. “The prodigal has return! Welcome home.”

 

“To an occupied home with Havenite ships backing you?” She asked coolly.

 

The other woman looked confused. “You're behind the times, Rebecca. The war is over. In fact the Republic came in with two hundred Podnaughts of the wall to help us take out Filareta's fleet. We were sent because Bifrost is the closest hyper bridge, and if the Sollies try to send a fleet against the Quadrant, they would need to use it. We were light on pods, so Savo Island was sent to drop some of their pods here to support me with Karttikeya covering her.” She looked at one of her monitors. “You have the Capwell squadron with you? Good; I'll need them. But what is this HMS Commitus?”

 

“A prize from Capwell. A Gladiator that followed me home. Can I keep him, mom?”

 

Casea laughed. “Have you met your cousin?”

 

“The other Captain Duvalier? Voice only. We almost blew him away.”

 

“He was warned you might be a bit antsy. In fact I was considering having him go to Capwell to check to see what might have happened to you.”

 

“You do not want to send him there. I am not well liked in the system.”

 

“You're not?”

 

“After destroying a podnaught task force, the screen and LACs of a CLAC task group, and destroying the four hundred ships of the mothball fleet? I'd be lucky if they only drew and quartered me.”

 

“You destroyed all of that... with a collier and some cruisers?”

 

“Yep. You might want to look up the specs of my ship, Captain.” Rebecca replied.

 

“If you would bring Claude; that is your cousin. I think you should meet. And if you have pods left, we could use them here.”

 

“54 Mk23s, 208 Andermani Mjolnir 'Hammers', and 360 Mk 20s aboard with 160 more Hammers aboard Isabeau. What do you need?”

 

“All of them. Wait a minute, did you say a CLAC task group?”

 

“Yes. We brought along three of their LACS. Very nasty customers; they retrofitted them to fire the two stage Sollie missiles.”

 

“You are just a font of cheerful messages.” Sandoval hit her mute button, then again. “We don't have anyone checked out on the Mjolnirs. Do you?”

 

“I have an Andermanii team.”

 

“I'll take them too.”

 

“Yes, ma'am. Witch Maiden clear.” She contacted the Mars class, which brought up her wedge, and fell into the lead position.

 

Rebecca touched her intercom. “I have an announcement to make. While I have not been fully apprised of the circumstances, I am informed that the war with the Republic is over. A combined strike force of Republic and Manticoran ships has already seized the Bifrost Hyper Bridge ahead of us. We will stay in system long enough to off load all of our pods. We're home free people. Stand down from battle stations.” She didn't need to hear the cheers of her personnel.

 

One last thing

 

Francis Dollaryde stretched, yawning as his shift ended. He made his note in the engineering log, then walked aft to the vats. He opened one, smelling the heady aroma. Another week-

 

“Francis!” He turned to starboard. It sounded like one of the-”

 

“Longpo!” He spun to port. Was there an echo?

 

Suddenly the girls, one from either side came charging in. He caught them, falling on his ass as they tackled him, crying hysterically. He made soft noises to calm then down, then waited as they told him almost in stereo what had happened. He finally got them calmed down. He knew what he had to do.”

 

 

Jinhua sipped the wine Rebecca had given her. “Lieutenant Schindler will be taking over. I am heading back to Manticore, then on to home.” She motioned toward the chip she had set down on the desk. “The Empire has been asked to sit out this war with the Solarians; if they ever decide to talk, you will need someone for them to pass the messages through-”

 

The annunciator sounded. “Yes?”

 

“Ratings Dollaryde and Klumbach to see you captain.”

 

Rebecca looked at Jinhua, who shrugged. “Send them in, Corporal.”

 

She had never seen such grim faces as all three of the enlisted personnel marched in and snapped to attention. “Yes?”

 

“Captain. We already requested permission to marry.”

 

“I do remember, petty officer.”

 

“Well the girls were told that they're being assigned to the Banton. Ma'am, with all due respect, we don't want to be separated. So I am requesting a transfer to the Banton.”

 

Rebecca looked at Jinhua who was looking down to hide her grin. “Petty officer Dollaryde; if I were to transfer you to the Banton, I'd end up with a mutiny on my hands.”

 

“But-” She raised her hand. Jinhua looked up, working to keep from grinning like a loon.

 

“Ladies.” Jinhua said, “Neither of you are necessary to this mission, so you do not have to worry about being transferred to the Banton.” All three of them sighed with relief.

 

“There's something else, Ma'am.”

 

Rebecca gave a light chuckle. “I hope it isn't as apocalyptic as wanting to run away from my ship, mister Dollaryde.”

 

“Well...” He looked at the girls, then encircled each with an arm. “We want to get married right now.”

 

“This minute?” Rebecca asked.

 

“Sorry ma'am. I think I was a bit...”

 

“Pushy?” She touched the stud to summon Oselli. “Glasses.” He moved, and she saw the tray. He brought them over, and poured. Rebecca had her glass filled, and raised it. “As soon as we're home, I will authorize the paperwork. But stop being so precipitous. But for now, to the happy... triad.”

 

What Next?

 

It was a busy three weeks. The pods were deployed with the additional layers of Mk23s closer in, then the Republican pods, the Hammers, and finally the Mk20s. At the same time Dollaryde sold out all of his assorted brews and Schnapps; the Double Dragon going over very well.

 

The intelligence and tactical officers of both Banton and Karttikeya came aboard to examine the Solarian LACs. They also received all of the information gleaned from Takegawa's library; Jinhua had found a gold mine of tactics the Sollies were already working on, along with the simulations where the Sollies were faced with the varying opponents.

 

Commitus would go on as an escort; while she could be fought, she was badly undermanned, and the Admiralty would be salivating over having her there to examine. Finally the last pinnace and cargo shuttle was aboard, and Witch Maiden moved into position for her transit. Rebecca sat watching as the cruiser made her transit, making Witch Maiden number one.

 

Jinhua entered the bridge, coming to stand beside her. “There are more reasons to return home than I had thought My brother is on life support back home. He has only months to live.” She announced.

 

“I am sorry to hear that, Jinhua.”

 

“If I hurry, I can see him before he passes on.” She sighed. “What about you?”

 

“Either they leave me in command of the ship and have me be a trash hauler, or they send us out to raid the Sollies.” Rebecca replied. “But if I have my way...”

 

“If you have your way?”

 

“I'll have a chance to find something else to blow up.”

 

The ship transited, and was gone.

 

End