Authors: Bennett R. Coles
Negotiating with terrorists? Thomas felt his fists tighten again. This was wasting time.
“Ma’am, if we can get a location I can have a strike team down to recover them in fifteen minutes.”
She shook her head. “This situation is already teetering on the brink—further bloodshed could tip it out of control. I’ve used minimum force in order to contain the damage, and I intend to continue on that path.”
“But ma’am—”
“Lieutenant Commander Kane,” she said, anger finally showing through, “because you are in command of a vessel I will pay you the courtesy of an explanation. This kidnapping, while horrific, is a minor event in the overall astro-political situation in Sirius. It is contained and Terra is working on finding a diplomatic solution.
Kristiansand
and
Rapier
will stand by as deterrents but we will not be distracted from our mission. It is our job to find proof that the Centauris are arming certain warlords on Cerberus. That is the major event in this theater. As commanders we must check our emotions, and stay focused on our goal.” She paused, then continued.
“Trust me, I want my people back even more than you do, but I am not going to jeopardize Terra’s position in Sirius. Is that clear?”
Thomas couldn’t find fault with her words, even though he wanted to disagree.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I’ll get my sources looking for information, and continue to mark the VOI.”
“Good.” Avernell signed off.
Thomas immediately summoned Breeze to his cabin. He explained the situation and asked if she had any lines of communication that might be able to uncover info on the hostages. With a smile she assured him that she did.
He sent her on her way.
And then he fidgeted. He was in a perfect position to strike. This brutal kidnapping was already system-wide news in Terra, and he could only imagine the outrage pouring forth from the worlds. How could the Astral Force be taken seriously, either by the citizens of Terra who funded it, or by the colonists it policed, if this sort of atrocity wasn’t dealt with swiftly? How could he go home at the end of this deployment and face his family and friends, knowing he had been there and not acted?
He tapped his desk console.
Captain Chandler wouldn’t sit idly by, he knew. Chandler would find a way to convince his superiors that action was required, and that he was the man to take it. Chandler hadn’t risen to his current rank by meekly waiting for orders. He had always been bold, and had tried to instill that in others.
Sean Duncan had never lost that assertiveness, had never turned into the political animal Thomas was becoming. Chandler hadn’t become a captain by playing it
safe
. And no doubt Sean, as XO of
Kristiansand
, was even now finding a way to place himself in the spotlight.
Thomas slammed his hands down on the console. He commanded a fast-attack craft, and yet he was powerless to act. After the botched raid on the farm, his career needed this more than ever.
His door chimed and Breeze floated in. Her smile was even broader.
“Captain, I have info on the hostages. They’re still in the medical center where the attack happened, but there are indications that the terrorists are going to move them soon. I’ve put the data into the main computer.”
He tried to suppress his own smile.
“Damn, Breeze, that was fast.”
She winked. “More than just a pretty face.”
“Stay on it,” he said, buoyed by the intel. “I’ll talk to the adults.”
Alone once more, he quickly pondered how best to approach his superiors. The last thing he wanted was for the diplomats to take his intelligence and use it to lean on the warlords. Nor did he want another Astral unit to be tasked into action.
Rapier
had to be the ship assigned to make the rescue.
He
had to be the one to make the rescue. But how could he convince Command?
Then it struck him, and he felt his chest tighten. He didn’t need Chandler’s ability to persuade others, when he had Chandler himself.
Strapping down in front of his console, he drafted a message to
Normandy
’s commanding officer. Since
Rapier
herself belonged to
Normandy
, Chandler was in fact Thomas’s immediate superior, even if Avernell was the senior commander on scene at Cerberus. Thomas had no choice but to obey Avernell’s orders here, but nothing took away his right to confer directly with his boss.
His fingers tapped out the message.
Subject
: Update on Cerberan Hostage Situation
Sir,
Rapier is within striking distance of Cerberus and is standing off with
Kristiansand
while the diplomats try to resolve the situation. I have contact with Astral intelligence units in Free Lhasa who have identified the location and impending movement of the hostages (file attached). I assess that the hostages are in grave danger.
I agree with
Kristiansand
’s current intent to avoid escalating the situation. However, it is clear that the Astral Force’s enemies are watching very closely and our credibility may be damaged if the crisis continues for too long. The desecration of Astral assets in Free Lhasa is clear proof that rebellious elements of Cerberan society have been emboldened.
Rapier has the capability and forward positioning that enable us to strike immediately. I will continue to hold position with
Kristiansand
and await further orders.
Thomas Kane
Lt(C)
CO
Rapier
He didn’t need to know the mind of the admiral, the ambassador, or any other senior decision-makers, so long as he knew the mind of Captain Chandler. His mentor
despised
diplomatic dithering, he knew, and favored bold action.
Chandler, as a full captain, would think nothing of overruling the destroyer CO’s stance. And he would enjoy pushing his opinion forward to his superiors. After all, Captain Chandler wanted to be
Admiral
Chandler one day.
Thomas attached the hostage info, quickly re-read his words, and transmitted the message. At light speed it would take nearly an hour to reach
Normandy
in the vicinity of Anubis. Then Chandler would need time to make his case, and then another hour for orders to return.
Thomas took a deep breath, calming himself. For the next few hours there was nothing for him to do but trail the Cerberan smuggler, monitor the intelligence updates, and wait for the order to strike.
K
atja squeezed into her seat on the bridge, her stomach churning. The rusty orb of Cerberus grew large through the bridge windows.
She’d only seen the footage once, watching in stunned horror as meek and feeble Thapa from the farm had transformed into a raging beast. Her surprise had turned to fury when she heard that Terra seemed to want to find a diplomatic solution to the crisis, and when the orders to strike came direct from EF 15, she had been barely able to contain her glee.
On the viewer positioned between her and Thomas was the grim face of
Kristiansand
’s executive officer.
“We’ll shut down as much ground traffic as we can out of the city center,” Duncan was saying, “but we can’t guarantee that the hostages haven’t been moved through some underground method.”
“We’re waiting for an intel update from the ground,” Thomas replied. “My navigator has friends in strange places.”
Katja noticed Breeze glance backward. She felt her usual distaste bubble up, but pushed it back down. Breeze’s contacts on Cerberus would prove invaluable…
if
they could provide the necessary info.
Duncan smiled grimly. “I have no doubt.” His face hardened again as the bridge behind him shook visibly. “We’re drawing their fire to give you a clear approach.”
A light ignited on Breeze’s console, and Katja heard her speak quickly into her headset. Data flashed across her viewer, which she brought to the attention of Chief Tamma beside her. The cox’n, fully engaged in piloting
Rapier
, read the data in a moment, made some quick entries into his flight computer, and nodded.
“
Kristiansand
,” Breeze interrupted, “I have just received a current report on the location of the hostages, time-late four mikes.”
Katja saw Duncan look down at the info being transmitted from
Rapier
. She brought up her own map and saw that the hostages had been moved to the outskirts of the city. Duncan spoke off camera for a moment, then nodded at the response.
“We’ll cover your approach,” he said, turning back to face them. “And clear a target zone near the central square, to make them think that’s where you’re headed.”
“We’ll drop the strike pods just past the square and circle round for another strafing run,” Thomas replied. “No one will notice the strike team.”
Duncan looked off camera again, and nodded. “From
Kristiansand
, Godspeed, and smash those motherfuckers.”
“
Rapier
receives.”
Duncan’s face disappeared, and the central console lit up again with a map of the city.
Thomas turned his head to look at Katja.
“We’re going in very hot. There’s no time for emotion once you’re on the ground. You get the hostages out—and nothing else. No heroics. No vengeance. Leave the Armageddon to
Kristiansand
.”
“Yes, sir.”
As usual, Thomas’s words were well chosen. She wanted blood. But he was right. Her job—and that of her team—was to be the surgeon’s laser of this operation. Get in, get the people, get out.
Rapier
was now close enough to Cerberus that Katja could actually see the tiny flashes of light on the planet’s left limb that revealed the location of
Kristiansand
. At current speed, that meant
Rapier
would hit atmo in less than two minutes.
Time to go. She pushed out of her seat, swinging in the zero-g toward the hatch.
Thomas looked up at her. His eyes held hers for a moment, and she thought she saw something different from the usual cool professionalism of her CO.
“No mistakes, OpsO,” he said. “Hostages, not heroics.”
“Yes, sir.”
Because
Rapier
would be under fire from the moment she hit atmo, if not before, there was a very real chance the strike pods would have to separate at high altitude and high speed. Katja and her troopers had to be ready to bail in the vacuum, if necessary.
She was met by grim, silent faces as she climbed up into the pod. Cerberus was noticeably larger through the windows as she strapped into her seat. Flashes from a single spot in orbit continued to rain down just at the edge of the planet’s visible disk, and Katja thought she saw similar flashes erupt occasionally just above the surface.
“Bravo-One, Alpha-One—confirm go for strike.”
“Bravo Team go.”
“Roger.” Switch freqs. “Mother, Alpha-One—go for strike.”
Over the ship-wide freq, Thomas’s voice.
“
Rapier
is go for strike. All hands, brace for hostile fire.”
Cerberus loomed before them. Katja looked out over the black surface of
Rapier
’s hull. The top turret moved experimentally in its position astern of the bridge, twin cannons eager to unleash. Her eyes scanned down the ship’s curved hull, and out over her broad port wing. The small mounds on the surface revealed the waiting morningstar missiles. At the far edge of the wing, the mighty port engine burned fiercely.
This ship was ready for battle, and so was she.
The top turret blazing to life was her first warning that hostilities had begun. Twin tracers lit up the darkness of space, painting a line to a sudden explosion ahead—an attacking missile, Katja guessed, stunned at the suddenness of it all. Seconds later, a fiery object loosed itself from
Kristiansand
in the distance. The fireball moved at ungodly speed across the sky and met another object dead ahead of
Rapier
. A silent explosion lit up the blackness, and Katja thought she saw charred remains spinning away of what must have been a Cerberan patrol craft.
The entire engagement took less than ten seconds, in absolute silence and with absolutely no warning. Katja allowed herself a glance at Cohen, her pilot. Cohen’s eyes were saucers. Katja hoped her own face didn’t display the same shock.
“Helmets,” she said over the strike frequency.
The sound of faceplates snapping down proved to Katja that her teammates were as new to space combat as she was. She closed her faceplate and locked it down.
Rapier
hit the atmosphere at an angle, and at such speed that there was none of the usual build-up of faint, orange glow. Suddenly the world outside vanished in an eruption of fire, and her own vision tinged red.
If their engines were to fail now,
Rapier
would either smash into Cerberus with the force of a gigaton nuclear bomb, or miss the surface and burn a trail of fire behind her thousands of kilometers long before being flung back out into space.
Katja forced herself to breathe deeply, focused all her efforts on that. She didn’t even try to read her instruments, and just trusted that Thomas would get them down safely.
The orange fire faded, and Katja looked down again at the ruddy surface of Cerberus. A flash of metal shot past her vision, and before she could raise her hands in futile defense she was thrown in her seat as
Rapier
rolled. Katja groaned, but kept her vision focused “up” at the landscape.
The top turret was firing three-second bursts, moving rapidly from target to target. The targets themselves remained unseen until she saw tiny explosions far ahead. The ship lurched again, and the ground above became much bigger as she dropped altitude.
The artificial gravity in her seat stabilized, and she was able to survey the landscape without blood rushing to her head. The top turret was still firing, and a large ground explosion indicated
Kristiansand
’s cover fire. She called up a visual on the target zone. The image suffered from the usual Doppler shift, and was jittery as
Rapier
dodged left and right on her attack run. But from what she could see, the strike zone was clear.