No Way to Start a War (TCOTU, Book 2) (This Corner of the Universe) (18 page)

Ignoring
the mild admonition, Vernay’s eyes twinkled as she retorted, “That’s just where
we like it, Captain.”

Heskan
finished preliminary formation movements that would bring the squadron into a
diamond pattern and flashed the orders package to
Aspis
.  He attached
the text message: SORRY TO SPRING THAT ON YOU, VICE.  PLEASE LOOK AT THIS AND
REPLY WITH RECOMMENDATIONS.

Finished,
he sent a comm request on the group command channel to Captain Grey.  He had never
talked to the outspoken carrier captain before and loathed to start their
working relationship with his upcoming question.  Three minutes later, the request
was accepted.

“Captain
Grey.  What do you need, Garrett,” she asked bluntly.

Well,
she’s under stress but at least she doesn’t sound too irritated
.  “Captain, I’m changing CortRon
Fifteen’s formation some.  It will offer better protection.”  He hesitated. 
“Uh, I also wanted to ask you…”  He paused.  “I was informed of a rumor that
our fighters are carrying fusion missiles.  I’d like to put the rumor to rest. 
Can you speak to this issue, ma’am?”

Silence
pervaded the channel for nearly half a minute before Heskan heard Grey’s
response.  “Commander, our fighter load-out is a mixed fusion-conventional
package.  Our pilots have not been authorized to use their fusion missiles but,
frankly, I think that’s going to change.  For the record, the release
authorization will not come from Eagle but be aware that we will follow the
lawful orders of our superior officers.  That’s all I can say.”

“Thank
you for your time, ma’am.”  Heskan quickly closed the channel. 
Thank you
for your time, ma’am
, he mocked himself. 
Could I sound more toady?
 
He rapidly composed a message, FUSION WEAPON RELEASE NOT AUTHORIZED, double-encrypted
it and sent it out to his ship captains. 
That’s a true statement
, he rationalized. 
His better angel responded,
Yes, but it’s only half-true, Garrett.  You know
Hayes is going to change that right before the fighters get into launch range
. 
The fighters were 16
lm
from Salus, just 11
lm
from launch point.  
They’ll
reach their launch point in thirty-seven minutes.
 
The fighters will be
about twenty-eight light-minutes from Avenger and the order will travel at the
speed of light.  It would have to come out, say, a couple minutes early to make
sure they receive it in time to act on it but with not enough time to debate it… 
Heskan did the backwards math. 
A little under half an hour, then we’ll
find out if Hayes is insane
.

Vernay
leaned close to Heskan and whispered, “What will happen if Hayes orders those
pilots to launch the missiles?”  Bad news traveled fast.  “Would they?” she asked. 
Her voice began to carry across the bridge.  “They can’t do that.  Those pilots
would be committing mass murder against civilians.”

Lieutenant
Selvaggio spun quickly around to face Vernay.  “Did that stop the Hollies from glassing
Euanthe and Kore?”  Euanthe was a New Roma colony now behind enemy lines.

Vernay
stopped all pretenses of keeping her voice quiet and responded irritably, “We
don’t know that for sure, Diane.  Those are rumors.  Would you really fry
Hollie civilians over a rumor?”

Selvaggio’s
voice became more heated.  “The Hollies don’t share your self-restraint, Lieutenant.” 
She spat out the last word.

“That’s
why it’s so important,” Vernay countered.  “It makes
us
different from
them
…
Lieutenant.”  Her emphasis on Selvaggio’s rank dripped with equal derision. 
All activity on the bridge had stopped.

Heskan
stared at both officers. 
When did “lieutenant” become a curse word?  I’ve
got to stop this
,
at once
.  “Enough!” he roared.  “The fight is out
there,” he added and gestured toward the tactical plot.  “And you’re both
right.”  He hated himself for his next sentence.  “I don’t want to do it any
more than you do, Stacy, but we
will
follow the lawful orders of our
superiors.  You took the same oath I did.”

Selvaggio
glared triumphantly at Vernay before she swiveled around to face her navigation
console once again.

Vernay
slumped but Heskan heard her mutter to herself defiantly, “No order that murders
civilians is lawful.”

The
statement was a dagger to Heskan’s heart.  He leaned toward Vernay and grasped
her by the wrist while whispering, “Stop it, Stacy.  I need you and your
support.  I happen to agree with you but you need to set a better example in
front of the crew right now.  Do you want a mutiny before anything even
happens?”  His blood ran cold at the word “mutiny.”

Vernay
answered in a barely audible tone, “It’s not right, sir.  Not only would we be
killing innocent Hollie civilians but when word gets out about this, the
Hollies will retaliate.  We’d be the cause of millions of Brevic deaths too.” 
Although her voice was subdued, her expression showed desperation.  Her blue
eyes pierced deeply into Heskan and her eyebrows furrowed so hard that deep
creases marred the purity of her normally smooth skin.

“Look,
Stacy,” Heskan offered, “Kite isn’t launching anything.  Further, we’re in no
position to assist or stop the use of fusion weapons.  Let’s focus on doing our
duty and if we survive, we can figure out what all this means later.”  Heskan
saw Vernay’s severe expression soften a little.  “I need you, Stacy.  Kite
needs you.  Kite needs her first officer fully committed to this upcoming
engagement.   Please don’t quit on us.”

Vernay
dipped her head lightly.  “You know Hayes will order it, don’t you?”

Heskan
nodded regretfully.

“Fine,”
she said as she swallowed.  “If it was anyone else asking but you, sir…”  She
looked up toward the ceiling, shaking her head in frustration.

Heskan
centered himself back into his chair as he wondered,
Is this happening
across the squadron?

Ensign
Gables reviewed her planetary attack checklist for the third time.  The fighter
wing had been cruising toward Salus for an hour and a half and would reach its launch
window in slightly less than five minutes.  All that remained for Gables was to
arm each missile, assign the already locked-in SPIs and fire.  Her eyes cast toward
her virtual stores management system’s status.  Each of the four missiles
glowed red on the VSMS screen, indicating its present, dormant status.  She
hoped that half of them stayed that way.  The entire flight had been relieved
when the final target taskings were assigned to the squadrons an hour ago:
conventional attacks only.  Gables’ own missiles were destined to orbit around
to the day side of the planet and strike a command-and-control facility.

The
appearance of the second Hollaran fleet had briefly sent the fighter pilots
into disarray, but orders that all fighters would be returning to
Eagle
eased the chatter on the squadron frequency.  Yes, most of
Avenger’s
fighters would be pitched overboard after landing given the storage constraints
of the light carrier, but the pilots themselves were not being abandoned. 
Still
,
Gables thought
, it’s going to take forever and a day to land one hundred
sixty fighters on Eagle’s single recovery deck.

“Incoming
message from Avenger,” Lieutenant Walker said over C-flight’s communication
channel.  “Stand by, mates.”

Waiting
impatiently, Gables completed several cycles of her instrument scan.  Eyes up
to the heads-up display, down to look at her navigation console, back to the heads-up
display, now down to the engine instruments and back to her heads-up display to
start the routine again.  Walker interrupted her fifth cycle.  “C-flight, we
have new target taskings.  I’m sending them now.  Launch in three minutes.”

Gables’
Pup received the encoded instructions and the new targets read out on her
weapons console.  The command-and-control facility remained but her stomach sank
when two new targets appeared.  The additional targets were to be destroyed
using her LAM-22s.  Unfamiliar with the names of the new targets, she touched
her screen to gain detailed information.  One was a shuttle production facility;
the other was an ore refinement industrial park.  They were at separate
locations on the dark side of the planet.  Panicked, she quickly brought up an
image of Salus on her Tactical Awareness Display and spun the image with a swipe
of a finger to focus on the new targets.  Once oriented properly, she zoomed
the image with her thumb and index finger.  Cities.

Oh
my God, they want me to fusion bomb cities
, she thought.
 I can’t do this
.

“C-flight,
the release of fusion weapons has been authorized.”  Walker’s voice pierced the
silence over the channel.  “Begin arming procedures.  Update and input
targeting packages and wait for my command for missile launch.”

How
the hell can he be so cool about an order like that?
Gables questioned.  If Walker
had any shred of doubt, it had not come through in the communication.  Gables’ trembling
hand updated her targets in her weapons computer and she then slowly began the
arming procedures for each missile.  The conventional missiles were first. 
Each one eagerly changed its hue on the VSMS screen from red to green as
electronic orders were sent from Gables’ F-3 to each warhead’s silicon brain. 
After verifying that neither the fire command button nor the
command-accept-execute trigger was depressed, she shakily reached out to arm
the fusion missiles.  Her hand was so unsteady that Gables realized she must
have missed the button on the weapons console’s touchscreen.  Both missiles
remained red.  She clenched and unclenched her hand and then reached out again
to arm each LAM-22.  Still red.

Confused,
Gables mentally ran down the arming procedures to ensure she had followed the
checklist.  Once confident she had correctly completed the process, she again
executed the final step to arm them.  She began to press the arm button several
times in succession without effect.  An enormous grin grew over her face as understanding
struck her. 
Rhodes, you beautiful bastard!

“Angel
Twenty-one, this is Twenty-five.  VSMS—,” she pronounced it Viss-Miss, “—is
giving me a failure-to-arm error code for Rifle Three and Rifle Four.”  Gables
tried her best not to sound exultant.

“Dammit,
Gables,” Walker snapped angrily, “I don’t like this either but you will follow
orders or you will be court-martialed.”

“No,
Tony,” Gables insisted, “I really do have arming errors.  I’ve gone through the
procedures twice.  They haven’t been hooked up right.”

“Try
it again, Twenty-five,” Walker demanded.  “If they really don’t work, launch
what you can and follow your hung ordnance procedures for the rest.”

Gables
began to bring up the procedures checklist when she heard: “Angel Twenty-one,
this is Twenty-two.  I’m experiencing arming failures too.”

“Twenty-eight
here, I have two errors as well.”

Walker
waited until the channel was quiet before he spoke.  “All right, C-flight, if
you are experiencing arming errors, launch what you can but realize that your holo-logs
will be scrutinized when we return.  The rest of you, follow your procedures
and launch upon my command.”

Angel-22
spoke in a pleading voice.  “Tony, we are better men than this.”  After a beat,
Gables heard the same voice add, “Anyone who fires those missiles condemns us
all.”

Gables
gulped in shock. 
He switched frequencies… that went out over the wing
channel!

“Can
that talk, mister!”  Gables looked down and saw the response had come from Seraph-1,
VF-24’s squadron commander and second most senior pilot in the wing.  “We have
a job to do and we’re doing it.  The release of fusion missiles has been
properly authorized.  Every one of us knew it could come to this and we all
took the oath to follow our orders knowing that.  Now do your job.  Launch
window in sixteen seconds.”

“I’m
sorry,” a tortured voice quietly said over the net. 
Is that Archangel?
 Gables
had never heard the wing commander’s voice so full of emotion before.  “I’m so
sorry.”

Gables’
F-3 traveled sixteen seconds closer to Salus.  Since Archangel’s cryptic
transmission, every channel had been deathly quiet.  Her heart raced as her Pup
broke the threshold of the launch window.  Although relieved that her own
fusion missiles had truly malfunctioned, the tension of what the rest of her
brethren would do was nearly unbearable. 
The Hollarans will undoubtedly
react to the atrocity even if just one pilot launches his fusion missiles.
 
We’re at the mercy of the least sane pilot.

More
seconds passed without the final launch order.  Both of Gables’ conventional
missiles were blinking their friendly green, indicating they were tracking
their targets and ready for launch.  More time passed and the Pups flew past
their “RTB” milestone, the point where they should have completed their attack
run and started the turn to return to
Eagle
.  Gables wanted to check to
see if her communications system was still functioning but was afraid to break
the quiet over the net.

“This
is Archangel.”  Gables jumped as the silence was shattered.  “I cannot order
the launch of LAM Twenty-twos.  All fighters are ordered to launch their
conventional missiles at their assigned targets but I am not ordering the
release of your fusion missiles.”

“You
are a cowardly—” Seraph-1 started but Archangel cut him off.

“I
know you have conflicting orders regarding your LAMs but I am ordering you to
proceed with a conventional-only planetary attack.  The release of fusion
warheads is
not
authorized.  What you do today will follow you through
history.”

Seconds
later, Walker ordered over the flight frequency, “C-flight, commence
conventional missile attack.”

With
pleasure
, Gables
thought as she exhaled without realizing that she had been holding her breath. 
The two missiles leapt off their racks and disappeared in a flash.  Gables
counted the missiles from C-flight, eighteen in total, all conventional. 
Thank
you, Archangel
.

Next, she expanded
her sensor picture to track the missiles from her squadron.  Again, each
fighter had launched a purely conventional attack.  A quick examination of
Eagle’s
sister squadron revealed the same.  Smile widening but still on edge, she went
through each of
Avenger’s
squadrons. 
VF-21, looks good.  VF-22,
good.  VF-23, all conventional.  VF-24…
 Her heart sank as she could tell
immediately that there were more than two missiles apiece from the squadron’s
twenty-five fighters.   Tears began to cloud her vision.

*  *  *

Heskan
sat on his bridge, finally in contact with Durmont.  From the image on Heskan’s
chair arm console, the ex-squadron commander appeared to be in his cabin.  His
hair was mussed and dark circles rested under bloodshot eyes.

“I
don’t blame Admiral Hayes,” Durmont said in monotone.  “I’m done.  I guess I’ve
been finished for a while now.”

Heskan
tried to sound optimistic.  “That doesn’t have to be true, Shane.  You’re just
undergoing combat fatigue and that won’t be a black mark on your record.  You
basically handed command of the squadron to me earlier; it’s not like you left
the squadron in the lurch.” 
That’s somewhat true
.

“Well,”
Durmont continued as if he had not heard Heskan, “I want you to know that I
don’t blame you either.  I’m glad it’s official now.  In fact, I think I might
step down as Bulwark’s commander.”

Heskan
bit his lip
.  I guess Mullins didn’t tell him I already replaced him
. 
“I think that’s a good idea, Shane.  I’ll handle it and make sure the record
reflects that you willingly relinquished command for medical reasons.  That shouldn’t
hurt your career either.” 
Too much, anyway
.

How
strange,
Heskan thought
. 
A month ago, I would have done anything within the regulations to get him
relieved of command.  Now I’m suggesting he have another chance down the road. 
Is that a good idea?  Am I being too… soft, for lack of a better word?

“Is
our attack going well?” Durmont asked.

He’s
clearly unaware of the situation.  How long has he been like this?  I can’t
believe Bulwark dove into combat with him in this state.  That’s my failure as
the vice commander.  Bulwark wasn’t damaged but if she had been, those deaths
would have been on me.  I’m great at being the good guy but I need practice
with the other side. 
“The
issue is in doubt.  We have a tough road ahead of us but Lieutenant Mullins has
Bulwark under control.”  Durmont nodded noncommittally.  “Rest up, Shane.  I’ll
talk to you next when we dive into Kale.”  Heskan ended the transmission.

“You’re
too nice, Captain,” Vernay said.

“Maybe,
but then you’re lucky I am or your little display earlier would be in your
record,” he chided.

“Oh,
well that’s different,” Vernay replied.

Heskan
looked at his first officer.  “How so?”

Her
expression told Heskan the answer was glaringly obvious and unassailably
correct.  “Because that was me.”

Heskan
could not keep from smiling and shaking his head. 
Maybe I am “too nice” and
I surely I don’t relish disciplining sailors, even when they need it, but I’ll
be damned before I start acting so harshly that good officers feel like they
have to tiptoe around me.  I’ll find the right balance as long as I keep
learning.

“Captain,” Truesworth
called, “you have a comm request from Captain Grey.”

*  *  *

The
fighters were returning home now.  Gables’ navigation computer told her she was
90
ls
from
Eagle
and they would rendezvous in three minutes.  The
carrier’s control tower had already sent detailed holding pattern instructions
to the fighters and Gables’ squadron would be the last to land.  They were
going to recover any outstanding Avocets first and stow them below decks.  Then
Avenger’s
fighters would land and
Eagle
would hold the overflow
on her recovery deck.  Once the pilots were safely out, the deck crews would
use the auto-taxi to guide the excess F-3s off the end of the deck and into
space.  After the
Avenger
fighters were cleared,
Eagle’s
squadrons would land normally.

Her
Pup’s weapons console informed Gables that the strike force’s missile attack
had concluded several minutes ago.  Not having the heart, Gables did not watch
it.  However, the obscenities uttered over the flight’s communication channel
marked the passage of each fusion strike.  Lieutenant Walker either did not
hear them or care, as even he did not admonish his pilots for their lack of
discipline.

Trying to push the
turmoil of the last twenty minutes behind her, Gables prepared to place her Pup
into the assigned position in the holding pattern.  The landing checklist could
wait; the long queue in the pattern promised to provide ample time for it.