The Far Bank of the Rubicon (The Pax Imperium Wars: Volume 1) (30 page)

During that time, everything was up for grabs. The antique, hinged bulkhead door with a wheel had come in direct response to an incident on the dreadnaught Hades. A few days after the start of the war, she was cruising happily along when, simultaneously, all its computer controlled doors slid open at once, and her hangar deck depressurized. She lost sixty-eight percent of her crew, including her captain, chief engineer, and first officer. It would have been much worse except one IT tech figured things out in an instant. As the life-giving atmosphere rushed out of the ship, he strapped himself to a seat and managed to get things under control before the ship lost all its pressure.

That couldn’t happen on the Seventh. In the event that any compartment suddenly depressurized, the bulkhead doors were mechanically hinged in such a way that they would spring closed and seal the compartment, isolating the problem on one part of the ship. That said, the Seventh, like any modern fleet, intentionally depressurized before battle. It made much more sense to put the crew in pressure suits and avoid all the problems that went along with explosive decompression if a round penetrated the hull.

Brennen noticed Jonas looking at the door. “She takes a little getting used to when you first get on board. There are so many electronic devices we take for granted that the
Ares
does not carry for security reasons.”

Jonas turned and realized while he had been looking at the door, she had been sizing him up with a piercing, blue gaze. He hadn’t met Brennen before. She was one of a new crop of senior officers, recruited by Stephen and a few of his favorites. They had been chosen strictly on their record in battle, without reference to their education or their political connections.

The newly-minted fleet admiral appeared to be middle-aged, perhaps in her late sixties. Unlike many women in the Athenian kingdom, she had let her hair go gray. She wore her somewhat-frizzy hair pulled up. She had a longer, thin nose, as was often the case with people from Athena Prime, and she didn’t flinch as he returned her gaze. “I wasn’t expecting the reception party.”

The Admiral tipped her head slightly to the right when she answered deferentially. “It seemed the right thing to do. My officers needed it.”

Not sure that he agreed, Jonas answered with a “hmm.”

The Admiral pointed to a pair of chairs at one end of the conference room where a small table had been set. “Would you like to have a seat? I believe that I have an hour scheduled for us to get to know each other, as we will be working closely together over the next few weeks.”

Jonas stepped forward to accept the offered chair.
Will we?
thought Jonas.
What will I be doing?

On a wooden table in the corner, tea and coffee had been laid out. While Jonas sat, the Admiral stepped up to it and asked which Jonas would prefer.

“Coffee, black,” Jonas answered.

Jonas was amused as he watched Brennen prepare two cups of coffee and bring them back to him. An admiral who pours her own coffee? Now that’s new.

After a sip, Jonas asked a question. “You said that we would be working closely together. What exactly do you envision my role in the fleet to be?”

Admiral Brennen looked startled. “You are the House of Athena on board my fleet. I expect that you will want to take part in all strategic decisions I and my staff make.”

Jonas took another sip of coffee to hide his own surprise. He wasn’t sure it worked when the Admiral continued.

“Prince Athena, let me make one thing clear. To my mind you are my commanding officer. It is I who should be asking about my role in your fleet and not the reverse.”

That attitude sure says a lot about the formal welcome in the hangar
, thought Jonas. He took a moment, putting his cup down to gather his thoughts before speaking. “May I ask a somewhat personal question, Admiral Brennen?”

“Of course.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventy-six.”

“And how long have you been serving in the Navy?”

“Fifty-three years, Sir.”

Jonas grinned. “Admiral, I am all of twenty-one and have been actively serving in the Marines for just over a year, five years if you count my time at St. Almo's. You have thirty-eight years more experience than I do. It would be foolish for the House of Athena to put those years of experience to waste.”

Jonas thought he saw the hint of a smile at the corner of Brennen’s lips. “Well said, but it won’t help us at all if you underestimate your own abilities. You have a gift. People follow you. You inspire them. This fleet needs that as much as it needs my expertise, and all the expertise in the Allied fleet hasn’t been enough to stop the Korpis, has it? Perhaps it’s time for some fresh ideas.”

“Which is why you are here, Admiral. My brother thinks very highly of you.”

“Prince Athena, considering the importance of the decisions we will make in the coming days, he must think the same of you, or you would not be here, either.”

Jonas’ ship-issued, next-gen data portal pipped him in the middle of his sleep cycle. It had been a long twenty-four hours, and he had retired to his cabin only a couple of hours ago to grab a little sleep before the activity started in earnest.

Jonas sat up in his officer’s suite on the
Ares
and fumbled for the device on the small table next to his bed. When he got it in his ear, he answered. “Yes?”

The pert voice of a young, female communications officer answered. “Admiral Brennen has a message for you, sir. She says, ‘It’s time.’”

Jonas blinked a couple of times, trying to drive the sleep from his eyes before he answered. “Thank you. Please inform the Admiral I am on my way.”

Jonas got out of bed. Over the last nine days of transit, Brennen had amazed him. Her consistent energy and drive outdid his own. At times he struggled to keep up. She had also taught Jonas a thing or two about troop morale. On the third day after his arrival, seeing that he didn’t seem to have a grasp on the role of a commander yet, she pointedly took him down to one of the three mess halls on the ship, where they had their lunch with the crew. It was a hands-on affair, with the crew feeling free to ask any questions they liked. In Jonas’ limited experience, it was a highly unusual move for an admiral to mingle with the ensigns and sailors, but having lived on the other side of the line for even a brief time, Jonas understood what that kind of behavior would mean to the crew.

He took his cue from Brennen, and from that point forward, ate with the crew whenever possible. The red sash, denoting his status as a member of the royal house, became an indispensable tool.

Seven minutes after receiving the message, Jonas stepped onto the bridge in a freshly pressed dress uniform which he had prepared himself a few hours earlier using the iron in his room. Secretly, Jonas was proud of how much the military had taught him about the mundane things in life, like using the built-in laundry machine in his officer’s closet and how to run his clothes through the iron. In the palace, almost everything had been done for him. It felt good to understand that he wasn’t helpless.

Jonas walked across the bridge to the small, windowed conference room where Admiral Brennen held court with the senior commanders from her fleet. True to her word, Brennen had included him in every strategic decision they had made. Jonas entered the conference room without knocking.

Brennen glanced up, and noticing his clean uniform, looked him up and down. The merest hint of a satisfied grin crossed her lips. “The mission is set. We are about to go intraspace dark. Do you have anything you want to communicate to Allied Central before we sign off?”

Jonas thought for a minute. He really should say something. He looked down. Buried in the table, he could see Admiral Hansen and Stephen, who had started taking a much more hands-on interest in the affairs of the Admiralty of late. Jonas thought it was a good decision. They seemed to need some babysitting. “Nothing more than to say that over the last few days, I have been impressed by Admiral Brennen and her staff. I have the utmost faith in this fleet and in its leadership. I have no doubt about the outcome of our mission. We will see you on the other side.”

Brennen smiled openly and signed off. Then she looked at her watch. “We go intraspace dark in one minute, thirty seconds. That puts general quarters about forty minutes out and depressurization sixty minutes after that. Are there any questions?”

None of the commanders had any, so Brennen broke up the meeting. Many of the captains and officers of the fleet blinked out after saluting Brennen and then Jonas in turn. Jonas returned each of their salutes. Then she and Jonas shook the hands with each of those who remained as they went out the door.

When all were gone, Brennen looked sideways at him and said, “Now comes the hard part.”

“What’s that?”

“The waiting.”

It wasn’t long after the two of them exited the conference room that the Admiral’s ear portal pipped at her. She gestured, and a screen momentarily appeared in front of her face. She flicked away the message. She gestured again and then spoke over the fleet-wide PA system. “The
Barkley
reports that we are intraspace dark. It is now time for the Seventh Fleet to live up to its name. We are the Ghost Fleet. Godspeed, and good luck.”

As soon as the Admiral stepped off the PA, an eerie wail rose from all around the large control center. Jonas knew the ghostly wail from the crew had been echoed by every crew on all ships in the Seventh.

Brennen smiled. Somehow, it had become tradition in the very young Seventh Fleet to wail like that whenever they went intraspace dark. Brennen seemed to encourage it, always participating herself. Jonas followed her lead. Brennen had told him over coffee one day that she felt that it expressed the crew’s pride in the fleet and its capabilities. Raising her mug to her lips, she had said, “And a sailor who believes in the capabilities of her ship, that’s a happy sailor.”

From what he had seen, the crew of the Seventh had a lot to be proud of.

The addition of the
Barkley
made the Seventh unique among all modern fleets. Built as a top-secret communications warfare ship, the
Barkley
gave the fleet a completely different relationship with intraspace. The
Barkley’s
sole job was to act as the only communications node between the fleet and intraspace. Every system in the whole fleet, from the black box systems in each bridge to the maintenance bots in the waste disposal systems, connected to intraspace through the
Barkley
.

In other fleets, even tactical communications between ships-of-the-line had to pass through intraspace in order to travel from ship to ship. Here on the Seventh, all communications were handled by secure, entangled-particle networks within the fleet. When
Barkley
cut the link with intraspace, the fleet was truly dark but retained all of its tactical functionality.

In the next few hours, all of these changes would receive their first real test, when the Seventh Fleet made a daring attempt to cut a major Korpi supply line, deep in enemy territory. The fleet was assigned to take and hold the Wales system. If they succeeded, they would not only have a significant Allied victory and all the morale boost that went with it, but they would severely hamstring the Korpi advance, opening a large hole in their flank. The hope was that their efforts would force the Korpis to play a little defense for a change.

Allied command had created a significant bit of subterfuge to hide their mission, gathering much of their remaining forces for a more public effort to retake the Imperial capital Apollos. The Korpis had responded by moving their forces to block them, leaving their rear sectors a little more vulnerable than they ought.

The Allies had also kept it a deep secret that the Seventh Fleet had been launched. It was hoped that the whole affair would catch the Korpis by surprise, and even if the effort to retake Apollos stagnated, they would have to respond to the loss of the Wales system.

Brennen stepped up beside Jonas and interrupted his thoughts. “We have a couple of minutes before we’re needed again. Would you follow me?”

Judging by her tone, Jonas guessed the Admiral had something up her sleeve. “Certainly.”

Brennen led him a short way down the main hall to a large room on the right. Unlike the brightly-lit control center, this room was almost dark and relatively empty. When the officer on duty saw Jonas and the Admiral enter, he almost called everyone to attention, but Brennen caught him in time to wave him off with her hand.

“What you may not realize, Prince Athena, is that everything, and I do mean everything, you see in this room exists because of you.”

Jonas looked at Brennen, puzzled.

When she continued, she didn’t look directly at him, hands clasped behind her back, remembering. “After we got the data in from the
Indiana
, our own cyber-warfare center was completely redesigned based on the information from that ship. When the Admiralty redesigned the Seventh, they set space aside for cyber-warfare, but we didn’t know what to do with it. The
Indiana
gave us that information. Most of the tactics we will use today came from that ship. You may not like it, or feel that you deserve all the praise you get, but the truth is, sir, without your work, we wouldn’t have a chance today. If we retake Wales, a lot of the credit goes to you.”

Jonas wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He hadn’t ever been comfortable with the acclaim he had received for his role in the Battle of the
Indiana
. Now faced with the results, he found it impossible to see himself as any more important than before. He turned away from the cyber-warfare room. “I guess I’m just glad that Daxton didn’t die in vain.”

Brennen nodded thoughtfully. She was enough of a soldier not to ask who Daxton had been but rather to let the matter lie. For all Jonas knew, she had studied up on him enough to know the name of his former co-pilot. “If all goes well with our attack here today, she won’t have.”

Jonas nodded, as his throat suddenly constricted.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself raising his arms over his head while a deck officer on the bridge of the
Ares
inspected his pressure suit for leaks. There were none to find.