Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series (5 page)

Jonathan smiled as another thought crossed his mind.     

“
Plant what you will this night, and it will grow strong,
” he said quoting from
At Hearth and Home
one of Solaria’s most popular romantic plays.

“I’m sorry?” Bethany asked.

“Bethany, would you like to dance, I want a front row seat to the next part of the show.”

Bethany looked at Jonathan questionably “Show?”

Jonathan winked.

“It’s a surprise, but trust me you don’t want to miss it.”

Bethany was obviously curious, but took Jonathan’s offered hand.

Jonathan led her onto the dance floor. Ballroom dancing was an elective at the Academy, one that Jonathan had neglected to take. However, his boxing had provided him with plenty of training to be light on his feet. So he managed to move, if not gracefully, then at least quickly enough to stay off Bethany’s toes. Will didn’t seem to notice Jonathan dancing with his sister. He and Heather seemed to only have eyes for each other, but Jonathan did get a sly wink from Gopal to which he responded with a wink of his own.

As they twirled and whirled, time seemed to at once stand still and flow more rapidly than it should.  At last the clock struck midnight. As the chimes began to ring, the dancing couples gradually stopped moving as the music cut out and the lights dimmed.  A single, bright spot light from a household service drone shown on one couple, William Trendale and Heather Conigen. With half of Solarian high society watching, William Trendale got down on one knee. He took a small, velvet  box from his pocket and opened it revealing a beautiful diamond ring inside. From where Jonathan was standing near the edge of the dance floor, it was hard to make out Trendale’s exact words, but easy to hear Heather's shriek of joy, which was soon drowned out  by applause. Jonathan turned to Bethany only to be ambushed as she pulled his face to her in a passionate kiss.

“My place,” she whispered in a husky tone.

Jonathan nodded.

“Carpe Diem,” she said.

They were out the door in less than a minute, and in the back of a cab in two. With the small part of his brain that was still thinking rationally, Jonathan hoped Bethany’s place wasn't too far away. Things were escalating quickly in the back of the cab. As it turned out, Bethany who normally resided in Junopolis, had booked a room at the Grand Horton Hotel on First Street less than a block away, and her room was right next to the elevator on the 14th floor. Getting the door open turned out to be a bit of an adventure when  locked in a passionate embrace.  Once they were through the door, it was much easier to close as Jonathan gave it a good, swift kick. Bethany maneuvered him toward the bed where she promptly broke their embrace and pushed him. Jonathan stumbled and fell backward onto the bed losing his hat in the process. Propping himself up on his elbows, Jonathan redirected his attention back to Bethany just in time to see her undoing the last clasp on her dress before letting it fall to the floor.

‘Oh boy,’ was all Jonathan could think before she pounced on him, and he quit thinking completely with his head at least.

Chapter II

Dawson's Rock, Ozawa Stella System, Solarian Republic

Solarian Naval Listening Post LP-115

September 20th,  844 AE

Sowing Eve was suppose to be a joyful time. Of course it was hard to make anything joyful on Dawson's Rock. Lieutenant Commander Morris Yung lamented, not for the first time, his decision to pursue the communication and signals career track when he’d gained his commission. Morris was anti-social in the extreme, a by-product of his youth, which had been spent on asteroid mining operations throughout the Solarian Republic. In all honesty, he’d joined the Navy because he didn't want to break rocks for the rest of his days, or buy and resell the content of those rocks as his father had done. His initial skill set with sensor systems and deep space communications equipment had quickly earned him a Specialist 1st rating with a promotion to Warrant Officer within four years.  After ten years of service in the Fleet, his remarkable intelligence, good disciplinary record, and status as a natural born citizen had gained Morris a commission and an appointment to officer candidate school. He’d had a good 25 year career until the last two years, when as a result of his own competence he’d been given command of LP-115.  Listening Post designation 115 was located on a dwarf planet called Dawson's Rock. It was  a empty, sun blasted cratered piece of nickel and iron in a tidally locked orbit around Ozawa, the bright yellow star for which the system was named. Ozawa Stella was a barren system in the extreme. The star had three wormways, but no habitable worlds. In fact, it barely had any planets at all. Dawson’s Rock was half the size of Mercury in the Sol system, and it was the biggest thing
in orbit around Ozawa. The system also lacked any valuable resources. Dawson's Rock had plenty of nickel-iron, but most of Ozawa’s other satellites were balls of ice and carbon, or lumps of worthless debris, the left over from the formation of the universe. As a result, aside from a few smugglers, less than successful prospectors, and fugitives, LP-115 was the only sign of human habitation in the Ozawa system at all. Despite its apparent lack of anything of value, Morris knew Ozawa was a vital system for no other reason than stellar geography. One of Ozawa’s three wormways led to Chaucer's Gap the primary Solarian military base in this sector.  Another led to Novi Deivor, which was the central hub of the Colonial Confederacy’s entire eastern frontier. Tensions between the Solarian Republic and the Confederacy had been escalating steadily. Ever since the New Helsinki incident six months ago, when the out numbered, but not outgunned Solarian destroyer
Titan
had clashed with three Colonial Warships badly damaging one, destroying another and sending a third scampering back to Novi Toulouse with its tail between its legs. The Confederate government’s response had been schizophrenic to say the least, as pro and anti-war parties each tried to capitalize on the turn of events, and dueled viciously in the political arena. Anyone paying attention was stunned by the sudden shifts in loyalty. The sudden forming, and then just as sudden dissolution and reformation of coalitions from parts of the political spectrum considered incompatible, and the roller coaster poll numbers. Then three months ago the Consular Council, the Confederacy’s ruling body, unable to reach a majority on the appointment of a new Elector dissolved the central government for the seventh time since New Helsinki. This time though the pro-war, or more accurately anti-Solarian coalition, won a narrow majority. Ever since then, tensions had grown day by day, which was why Morris’s job was getting so difficult. Usually, the border stations mostly focused on monitoring smuggler and pirate activity. Now, he was getting daily reports of incursions by Colonial probes slipping through into Chaucer's Gap.   Confederate warships were foraying into and out of the system in force, getting the lay of the land for the day war came. Morris poured himself a strong drink of whiskey and reclined in his chair. If war did come, it would be an ugly one. Morris had fought through the Third Dominion and he knew the face of modern warfare. Battles for star systems could last from weeks to years. Worlds would be ruined, men would be broken, and what had taken centuries to build could be obliterated in hours. Eight and a half centuries since man had first left the world of his birth, six since the first slow boats had set sail for other star systems, and the human race was still little better than what they had been the day Cain struck his brother over the head with that rock. Morris knew this was an important posting, and he knew he was a good choice for it, but it was so damn boring, and the holiday only confounded the isolation. Despite knowing he should be in the Wardroom at the miserable excuse of a party the annoyingly, constantly chipper XO Lt. Jackson Sung had put together, or in the Operations room cheering up the men who’d drawn the short straw and pulled duty, Morris was alone in his private quarters drinking and composing a letter to his husband Clarence. He would be at his parents with their two girls both in secondary school now. The oldest Kindra wanted to go into the Navy, and was already studying like mad for the Overwatch entry exam. Morris promised himself when his tour was up in three months that was it for the Navy. He’d take a civvy job someplace nice where he could watch the girls grow up. He smiled at Clarence’s smiling face, that damn man wanted to do artificial conception again. He wanted a son. Morris’s composition of his letter was interrupted by the beeping of his com terminal which he answered. On the screen he saw the face of his XO.

“What’s up Jacks?” Morris asked gruffly. Jackson was a good kid but an Overwatch ninny.  This was his first posting following his Ensign cruise. “Begging your pardon sir,” the twenty-year old’s voice was a high pitched squeak. “But we have contacts headed through the wormway in force. Lidar from the trip wire probes paint them as one battlewagon, two cruisers, four destroyers, a light carrier, and two planetary assault ships.”

Morris sunk in his chair. That wasn't a probe. It was an invasion force and there was only one piece of real estate in this Buddah forsaken system worth taking.

“Time till they are in orbit Jacks?” Morris asked pouring another drink.

“Six hours sir. This was planned. Our orbit is currently in transition at the point closest to the wormway.  They’re deploying a CAP and the destroyers are launching hunter killer drones to take out our probes.”

“Signal the fleet, then smash everything of value outside the Operations Room. Melt down all the drives, shred all the files, and eat anything that's left. Tell Colonel Talbot that it's time for his Marines to earn their pay, then get all Naval personnel issued weapons and placed under the Marines command.”

Jackson was white as a sheet, but nodded solemnly, “Aye aye sir.” The display winked out. Morris looked at his half drunk bottle. They could hold that this was a listening post, and not a military base. LP 115 had a grand total of about 560 officers and men, 250 of whom were two reinforced Marine companies. The OD batteries would keep them from getting completely leveled by that battlewagon, but would not
hold off a ground invasion. Morris picked up the bottle. Six hours? He could finish this before that. Looking back at his desk, Morris’s eyes rested on the photo of his husband and their two girls. Morris uncorked the bottle, and walked over to his sink and poured all the contents down the drain. He then straightened his uniform smiled one more time at his family, and headed for the Command Center.

When Morris arrived he found the stations already manned and ready. The men and women at their stations, faces were sober and serious. Several had cups of coffee on hand to help mediate the effects of the aborted party.  In the adjacent coms and SIGINT rooms, you could hear the smashing of machinery as the technicians destroyed their consoles so thoroughly that it was impossible to recover anything from them.

Jackson saluted Morris as he came in.

“Sir, we’ve melted down all code-word equipment. However, I held off on smashing short range intercept systems and long range transmitters. I thought we might glean some intel off these bastards.”

Morris nodded, “Do we still have coms Jacks?”

“There jamming us on subspace, but we still have the laser relay and will have it till they can knock it out.”

“Okay keep transmitting until it’s gone.”

“Aye sir.”

The door opened as Colonel Talbot strode into Operations. He was a tall gruff fellow whose left eye had the pink new color of a regrown transplant.

He and Morris shared a professional and courteous relationship, but had little in common.

“Commander, I’ve activated the defense plans and we are moving Navy personnel to where they’ll be most useful.”

“Sir..” One of the technicians called out “We are receiving a transmission from the Colonials, they want to know if we’d like to surrender.”

Morris looked at the Colonel and Jackson, “I don't know about you gentleman, but I’m inclined to decline our visitor’s very rude request.”

Talbot nodded, “Quite so.”

“Aye sir,” Jacks said smiling.

“Technical, please reply to our uninvited guest. Inform them that they seem to be on the wrong side of the border, and we invite them to leave forthwith. As for surrender, tell them not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

“Aye sir,” The technical replied typing in the response.

So that was it, Morris thought, the die is cast. In truth, he had considered surrendering, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. The Solarian Navy had one cardinal rule, don’t give up the ship. LP-115 was his ship and he wouldn't be giving it up. It would have to be taken from him.

The Battle of Ozawa, as it would be called, began not long after Morris Yung issued his final orders. The Colonial Task Force heavily outnumbered the tiny Solarian outpost, but The Solarian Naval Corps of Engineers were nothing if not professional, and they had built the Outpost to face overwhelming odds. The LP-115 was built beneath a natural crater on Dawson’s surface, the rim of the crater serving as a natural anchor point for overlapping kinetic barriers, while the thick rock and regolith protected the sprawling facility fifty feet beneath the surface. The only entry point to the base sat at the center of the crater, and was a hanger bay covered by a three foot thick, battle-steel door. It wasn’t just LP-115’s passive defenses that were impressive. She also had teeth. The Colonials approached in standard formation the battleship which LP-115 had identified as the
Bruix
and designated Tango-1 as the tip of the spear, while the two cruisers designated Tango-2 and 3 covered its flanks. The Carrier and Planetary Assault ships were at the center of the formation and the thin-skinned destroyers covered the rear.