Authors: Bennett R. Coles
Thomas nodded to himself. Everyone at the briefing understood the risk, but there was no other choice if they wanted pre-battle intelligence. Visuals at this range—even at the highest possible magnification—revealed only the largest of orbital objects, and nothing on the surface.
“We know that there are three orbital platforms around Abeona,” Erikson continued, “and that they are heavily defended. Intelligence suggests more than a hundred missile batteries on the surface, and at least as many swarms of robotic sentries. The recce tomorrow will aim to confirm or revise these numbers.”
“What about warships in the system?” Chandler asked. He suddenly turned his gaze to Thomas. “AVW, what do we know?”
Thomas tried to ignore the glare from Erikson. “We’ve detected a few weak signals indicating Centauri military activity in the system, but nothing to suggest that their big ships are in the area. If the message we received in Sirius is correct, and the Centauris have attacked Terran forces in every system, then their fleet is spread pretty thin.
“Most likely their gamble is that if they control the Terran-built jump gates, they control all traffic into their system,” he continued. “It’s the perfect choke point. This would mean they can leave their home system relatively undefended. As a result, we can expect Space Guard cutters and small patrol craft.”
“Which can still pack a punch,” Erikson said, taking back his briefing. “Many of the Space Guard cutters can be fitted with anti-vessel missiles.” He brought up a new set of yellow symbols on the display, indicating the dozens of civilian ships transiting the vicinity of Abeona.
“The first part of our plan will be to disguise the EF ships as civilians en route to the target. As you can see, traffic is fairly dense in the Abeona approaches, so finding suitable identities shouldn’t be hard. One of the objectives of tomorrow’s recce will be to assess and isolate the best candidates from among these vessels.”
“It’s easy enough to fit the equipment in the Hawk,” Korolev said, “but who’s going to conduct this search? No offence, Commander, but stealing vessel identities isn’t easy.”
Erikson flushed slightly, but nodded. “I’ll take along a qualified intelligence operative.”
“Breeze, I want you to go,” Chandler said. Thomas watched with interest as she went pale but still managed to keep her composure. It was unusual to see her off balance, and for some reason he rather enjoyed it.
“Thank you, sir,” she said carefully. “But I think one of the field operatives would be better suited to this.”
“I agree, sir,” Erikson said.
Chandler nodded. “Then choose your best field operative, Breeze, and bring him along with you.” She made to protest, but he spoke over her. “It’s important to have an officer’s big-picture perspective.”
“Of course, sir.” Breeze pursed her lips together and nodded.
“I volunteer to go, sir,” Thomas said without thinking. “I can back up the OpsO’s assessment of the orbital and surface defenses.”
“Good, good.” Chandler smiled slightly, his gaze taking in both Thomas and Breeze. “This’ll be valuable experience for both of you.”
Commander Vici spoke up. “We’ll want to ensure that we get a good survey of the landing zones, as well as the drop corridors. I’m bringing one of my lieutenants with me, but I assume we won’t have a lot of time close to the planet.”
Erikson shook his head. “Probably just one parabolic orbit.”
He turned to address Chandler, trying his best to hide his new irritation. “Sir, the Hawk’s getting pretty full, with all these extra bodies. If the Corps is sending two people, which I fully support, I recommend I take just the field operative to help with EM searches. Including the pilot, that’ll be plenty of eyes on scene.”
He really doesn’t want to share this mission with anyone
, Thomas thought, easily noting the tension under the OpsO’s professional tone.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know Eric Chandler very well. Thomas looked at his mentor and, as expected, saw the steel forming in his gaze.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Chandler replied quietly. “I can see immediately how we can reduce the crew by one. This recce is more for the Corps’s benefit than the Fleet’s, so Commander Vici will be in charge of the mission. Kane and Brisebois will support her in the Hawk, and you can advise me personally here in
Normandy
.”
A surprised silence fell over the command team. Erikson’s mouth fell open. Breeze made to speak, then apparently thought better of it.
Thomas knew to keep his head down.
“Very well, sir,” Erikson finally said, his face red. “This concludes my brief. Do you have anything to add, sir?”
Chandler took a deep breath. “We’ve all been talking as if we’re in Centauri space. I’d like to remind everyone that we are, in fact, in
Terran
space. Centauria is one of our colonies—the worlds here belong to the Terran Union. The colonists have made an open act of rebellion against us, and thousands of Terrans have died.
“We don’t have the firepower to restore order, so we’ll do the next best thing—we will
disrupt
order. We’ll panic the rebels and punish them. We’ll make them understand what the consequences are of turning against their rightful authority.” He looked directly at Thomas. “On the recce tomorrow, in addition to your tactical objectives, determine the best targets to make them pay.”
Thomas acknowledged the direction, trying to share some of Chandler’s unflinching belief in the rightness of their cause. All he could manage was to wish that he’d never opened his mouth, and instead let the Expeditionary Force dash itself against the Centauri force at the jump gate.
B
reeze tried to suppress a yawn as she awkwardly pulled herself along the zero-g guide rope that had been set up along the centerline of the main hangar. The sleepless nights were taking their toll—the zero-g in her cabin was a constant reminder that attack and instant death could come at any moment.
Helplessness wasn’t a feeling she liked.
As the largest and most valuable ship in the Expeditionary Force,
Normandy
would be target priority one if she was discovered. But somehow they had decided to create an even
more
likely target. And put Breeze aboard.
The Hawk was parked just off the centerline, engines humming. She paused at the side door, taking a deep breath to calm her heart and settle her stomach. The sooner they were launched and busy, the better. Fixing her expression into one of calm professionalism, she pulled herself into the main compartment.
She had barely steadied herself against the newly installed intelligence console when the pilot appeared, looking from behind his seat in the cockpit. He was young, ugly… and grinning.
“Hey, Breeze! Welcome aboard!”
Her heart sank. Was she doomed to have this puppy nipping at her heels forever?
“Hi, Jack,” she offered. Then a sudden thought struck her. “Why are you flying this mission? Doesn’t
Normandy
have any Hawks?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “No.” Then he grinned again. “Besides, none of their pilots have the old eagle-eye.” He pointed proudly at his misshapen face. “I guess
somebody
thinks I’m doing a good job.” He laughed. “Or they want to get rid of me. Can you believe this mission?”
She exhaled deeply, maintaining composure.
“It’s going to be…” The first word that came to mind was
suicidal
. “Challenging.”
“I’ll say. I mean, I’ve seen the reports. Do you have any idea how tight their planetary defenses are?”
She pushed down her growing anger. “That’s what we’re going to find out, isn’t it?”
“That’s the plan.”
She turned away and started flashing up the intelligence console, ignoring Jack’s humming and the arrival of other crew members.
Warrant al-Jamil floated in beside her, and she looked up. He was remarkably clean-cut and in his regulation blue coveralls was hard to recognize as the “Cerberan trader” who had landed his orbital dhow barely a week ago.
“Morning, Breeze.” He gave her a smile.
“Morning, Ali,” she said. “Ready to go?”
“Ready as ever.” He took over the console with an air of serenity accompanying each smooth gesture. She wondered how a field operative could remain so calm in life and death circumstances. Personally, she preferred the support role—close enough to the action to be included in the credit, but far from any real danger.
The Hawk’s cargo door began to close, and she realized it was time for launch. She checked on the location of the nearest spacesuit, ensuring that it was in standby and ready for wear.
Jack was invisible behind his seat, but his voice sounded quietly in the speakers around her.
“We’re rolling, folks. I’ll be dousing the cabin lights as soon as we airlock. Just a reminder that we are in full stealth mode today—no lights, no emissions. Absolute radio silence.”
Breeze looked around the cabin, noting the others who had arrived while she was busy with the console.
Thomas was there, of course—Chandler’s pet, and the only officer stupid enough to volunteer. She wondered what fallout there would be from his replacing Commander Erikson on this mission. She’d have to watch the growing rift between Thomas and his new rival.
The Corps was represented by Commander Vici, and she seemed to have a new pet of her own. Surprisingly enough, Katja Emmes hovered close to her boss, studiously ignoring Breeze and, she noted with interest, Thomas. That, too, would be worth watching—at least for a laugh.
She remembered with sweet satisfaction Katja’s pale, tight-lipped response after she’d let slip oh-so casually her opinion of Thomas in bed. She was pretty sure it was the closest Katja had yet come to punching her. Let the bitch try. A court martial could be fun, too.
The cabin went dark as the Hawk entered the airlock. After a few moments a faint wash of light spilled in from forward as the ship emerged from
Normandy
into the starlight. A few console lights added their faint glow to the shadowy compartment. Breeze felt a persistent tug aft as they accelerated clear. The tug shifted direction as Jack made a broad turn.
“How long for the inbound run?” Vici asked.
“About six hours,” Jack replied. “I have to point us well clear of any Centauri planet or base to avoid getting picked up by their asteroid hunters. Their system also automatically raises an alert on anything going above a certain speed, so I have to throttle back a bit. Low and slow.”
“Have you got your passive EM sensors up?” Thomas asked.
There was a pause. “Yep,” Jack replied. “I’ll be keeping an eye on their sensor sweeps, and a visual for anything close.”
Breeze listened absently to the chatter, tuning out as it got more and more technical. Her role was specific. She and Ali were to locate and record the electromagnetic emissions of fifteen civilian ships that were all headed for Abeona. By the time the EF got to within striking distance, each ship would need to be able to identify itself to satisfy the curious authorities. To get that close, the EF ships were going to have to steal identities. It was Breeze’s job to identify the victims.
The gentle tug of acceleration faded. Breeze paused for a moment to let her stomach settle, then unstrapped from the bench. She pulled herself aft to hover next to Ali at the console.
“Let’s start looking.”
Ali nodded, and brought up a dim 3-D display with the Hawk at the center.
“So far I’ve got five vessels within ten million kilometers,” he said. “Three merchants, a tug, and a yacht.”
“How many barges does the tug have?”
“Three.”
“Good, that’ll probably work for the invasion ships.”
He nodded again as he adjusted the scale of the display. “We have a lot to choose from.”
“Well, start recording them all. We’ll probably go with those engaged in the least chatter. They’re the easiest to imitate.”
She watched and listened to the scattered civilian ships for a while, looking for odd patterns or irregular beacons that might disqualify any as being too hard to imitate. Most of them were running silent, happily radiating their ID beacons as they puttered along toward their destinations.
The Intel console precisely recorded those beacons, ensuring that every nuance was faithfully reproduced before it might be assigned to an EF ship.
The data collection was fully automated, but analysis took a substantial amount of effort. It was going to take hours for them to select enough promising vessels, with backups.
* * *
“We’re being hailed.”
Ali rocketed forward to the cockpit. Breeze was quick in his wake.
“Who is it?” Ali asked Jack.
“Abeona Traffic. Standard hail, our position exactly.”
Ali slipped on a headset and brought up the frequency. Breeze grabbed the sole spare and did likewise. A surprisingly clear voice, with a polished Centauri accent, sounded in her ears.
“Vessel in grid position one-seven-nine mark two-five-zero, this is Abeona Traffic. Please identify yourself.”
Ali the field agent was ready to respond. “Hey, Traffic, this is
Dream Weaver
on a pleasure cruise over from Big Side. Thought we might come have a look at your pretty planet.”
“Dream Weaver,
Traffic, roger. Are you intending to dock with a platform, or land on the planet
?”
“Not this time, Traffic. Just coming for a look.”
“Roger, be advised transit orbital distance is forty thousand kilometers. Enjoy your journey. Abeona Traffic standing by.”
Ali glanced at Breeze and Jack. “Well, nobody can fault their tracking systems.”
“Good thing the EF didn’t try the direct approach,” Thomas said.
Vici floated forward, making the cockpit rather crowded. “How long before we can see the planet?”
Jack pointed at a very bright, blue-green dot fine off the port bow. “That’s her. I can give you magnified visuals on your screen, if you like.”
“Maximum mag, please.”
Jack tapped a series of commands into his console. Vici retreated to rejoin Katja at their console.