A Faded Star (31 page)

 The Victorious docked and shut down her maneuvering
thrusters. Stokes was overseeing a series of battle simulations when a familiar
face entered his bridge.

 Marli Simmons walked onto the bridge with a look of
apprehension on her face. Seeing Stokes bent over the science console, she
walked purposefully to him. “Sir, may I have a few minutes of your time?”

 “What are you doing aboard, Miss Simmons,” Stokes
asked. He turned and said to Woodard, “Carry on, Lieutenant. I'll rejoin you in
a few moments.” Woodard nodded, and Stokes escorted Simmons to his office just
off of the bridge. Once settled into the chair behind his desk, Stokes said,
“What can I do for you, Miss Simmons?” He noticed she'd been promoted to a full
commander rank.

 “Sir, I've been at command school for the last four
weeks. I wanted to say thank you for starters.” Stokes' eyebrows rose in
surprise at the words. “If it wasn't for you coming down so hard on me, I
wouldn't have been prepared for the expectations at command school. I've been
assigned to the science vessel, the prototype, as executive officer.”

 “No name picked out for it, yet, commander?”

 “Well, there's no assigned commanding officer, either.
I expect they're waiting for someone to tell them what to name all these
ships.”

 “Just have the manufacturing complex assign appropriate
names for each ship. We have too much to concentrate on to wrack our brains
with such details at this point. Any name that just stinks can be changed.”

 “That's a good idea, sir. I'll assign the Aeternum to
name assignment when I go back aboard. What did you name this ship?”

 “Victorious.”

 “I like it, sir. I hope it's prophetic.”

 “So do I, commander.” Simmons made no move to get up
and seemed to be preparing to say something else. Stokes waited patiently for
the woman to collect her thoughts.

 “There is something else I wanted to ask you about,
sir.” She waited for Stokes to nod before continuing, “I've compiled a list of
advanced scientific facilities where the Terran Empire was conducting highly
advanced and classified research. Some of these planets had advanced weapons
tech, others were working on medical research. Some were engaged in pure
scientific exploration. I wanted to float this idea with you in the hope you
would advocate it with the rest of the admirals for me. I'd like to mount an
expedition to these medical research facilities in hopes of finding the
research on the virus the alliance unleashed on our ancestors. Neutralizing the
alliance's weapon has to be a priority for us, sir.”

 “I'm in agreement with your sentiment, Miss Simmons.
The issue is not one of importance but of timing. We don't know if the crabs
will attack us or if the alliance is even willing to employ the virus again.
I'll take your idea to the board of admirals and see what's decided. I expect
we'll need to at least wait until the crabs have attacked the Xalcek system
before we make a firm decision.”

 “Are they headed there, sir?”

 “The last set of sensor scans show them leaving the
alliance forward base and heading towards Xalcek. We won't know for sure for
another day or two. At the speed the crabs have been traveling, it will take
them another four weeks to get to Xalcek. We've also picked up a small group of
ships coming here from Xalcek. They're moving quite fast, so we don't think
it's a military maneuver. Probably they're sending some kind of diplomatic
overture.”

 “What if they're here to attack us with the virus?”

 “We're ready for any attack of that kind. Intelligence
thinks they'll have to launch some kind of torpedo in order to infect Lashmere.
If they do, we'll nuke the entire area.”

 Simmons nodded slightly. “We should gather up any
research the old empire had in any event. They probably knew quite a bit about
the virus.”

 “I'll communicate with the other admirals, commander.
Once I hear back with a consensus, I'll let you know.”

 “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.”

 “My pleasure, Miss Simmons. Congratulations on your
new rank and assignment.”

 “I should have said the same to you, sir.” Simmons
blushed bright red in embarrassment. “Congratulations, sir.”

 “Thank you.” Simmons stood, saluted and left the
office. Stokes watched her leave. His thoughts were focused on the changes in
Simmons' personality. Her attitude had made a complete turnaround in the short
time she'd been at command school. Something was motivating her that he could
not explain. Two months ago, she wouldn't have even bothered noticing the
difference in their ranks, much less her newly acquired military bearing.
Shaking off his uncertainty about her motivations, he went back to the bridge
to continue training his new crew.

 The alliance ships arrived two days later. Victorious
was moved out to meet them at the edge of the Lashmere system. Victorious was
joined in formation by the newly named science vessel, the Loki, and the first
assault cruiser built at the shipyard. Rampart and Rook were also moved out in
a defensive location between Victorious and Lashmere itself.

 Stokes sent his ship to battle stations a few minutes
before the alliance ships arrived in system. The comparatively tiny crew took
only a couple of minutes to get into their assigned positions.

 “All battle stations are manned, admiral,” Bendel
reported.

 “Very well. Let's see what the alliance wants.” A
tense few minutes passed until four alliance ships came out of FTL twenty
thousand kilometers from the human ships. The ships were small, no larger than
the corvettes Lashmere was building. Long, narrow ships, obviously built for
speed. “Put me on instant comms, Miss Woodard,” Stokes said.

 “You're on, Admiral.”

 “Alliance ships, this is Admiral Stokes of the
Lashmere Space Navy. Please state your intentions.”

 There was a delay of several minutes, during which
Stokes' crew became increasingly restless.

 “Sir, we're getting a response from the lead alliance
ship,” Woodard said.

 “Put it on the main plot.”

 The plot update to display a Xalcek officer. He said,
“Greetings from the alliance. I am Commander Ktenu. Who do I have the honor of
communicating with?”

 “Hello, commander. My name is Admiral Stokes. What can
we do for you?”

 “The reason for our visit is three fold. First, we
would like you to return the alliance ship still in your possession.”

 “We can agree to that, commander. I'll have word sent
for it to be towed to the edge of the system.” Stokes nodded to Bendel, who
started a message on his console.

 “We have come to advise you of the termination of our
pact of mutual aid. Our analysis of human activities thus far indicate you've
collaborated with the crabs either through intent or negligence. This is a
wholly unacceptable development. We demand you provide restitution and submit
your leadership to alliance justice.”

 “That's quite the accusation, commander. I can say
that the Lashmere Navy categorically denies any collusion with the crabs. Would
you care to elaborate?”

 “During the time humans were stationed at our base,
they provided projections on crab fleet movements. Those projections were
uncannily accurate. We find it impossible to believe this is a coincidence. We
believe your officers informed the crabs of the best ways to attack us. They
used their position of trust to accumulate tactical data and then found a way
to send it to the crabs without us detecting it.”

 “Do you have any proof of your accusations, Commander
Ktenu?”

 “We've discovered several unauthorized breaches of our
computer systems by your forces. We know you've taken copies of our database.
We demand you delete all of the stolen data and return our property to us
immediately.”

 “The ship is being prepared for towing now, commander.
Regarding your accusation of data breaches, I'm not aware of any theft of data.
If we are in possession of stolen information, I'll launch an investigation. If
culprits are found, they will be disciplined as appropriate.”

 “We insist they be held to alliance justice, admiral.
Your system of law is incompatible with our requirements.”

 “Just what kind of punishment would be given for such
an offense, commandeer?” Stokes asked.

 “If the offender was found to have stolen data, he may
be publicly humiliated and then forced to serve others for a period of not less
than twenty years. Anyone found to have directly conspired with the crabs would
be given a lifetime sentence of servitude.”

 “I doubt we'll be submitting any of our people to any such
punishment, commander.”

 “I must warn you, Admiral, we have found a way of
turning the crabs to attack you, rather than us. If you insist on holding
yourselves above the law, we will see to it the crabs come to Lashmere.”

 “That would result in the deaths of thousands, if not
tens of thousands. What does your so called moral superiority say about that,
Commander?”

 “We would not be the ones inflicting violence and
death on you. We would have gained morality from such a move, having spared the
lives of other, moral alliance members.”

 Stokes exchanged bewildered looks with his exec before
responding. “Somehow, I don't think anyone here is going to agree with your
point of view. I will pass your statements along to the rest of our leadership.
You are directed not to enter any further into the system. Any movement towards
Lashmere will be met with force. Do you understand?”

 “We do. We will be awaiting your reply, Admiral.”

 Admiral Coffee stared into his monitor in disbelief.
The summary forwarded to him by Stokes presented him with an untenable dilemma.
If the alliance could truly turn the crabs to attack Lashmere, they were far
from ready. Coffee addressed the man sitting across his desk from him, “Agent
Cobb, what's your analysis of the situation?”

 Cobb considered the question for several long seconds
before responding. “The timeline for fleet construction is at least six months,
Admiral. We've already run this through efficiency simulations to try to shave
time off, but there are no materially better choices. Admiral Brand is driving
his people as hard as he can.” Cobb was silent for a few more seconds before
continuing, “I suggest we try to stall the alliance ships here for a time. If
we can tie them up for a few days, or even better, a couple of weeks, that
might buy us enough time to get a significant portion of our fleet built before
the crabs can arrive here.”

 Coffee said, “Your department's projection is the
crabs can't arrive here for another seven weeks at their best observed speed. I
think we should assume the alliance ships will have to return to Xalcek before
they can turn the crabs away. If they can turn them away. I'm still hoping
they're bluffing. What do your timelines look like if the crabs actually have
to approach Xalcek before they can be sent against us?”

 “Well, the alliance return to Xalcek should be limited
to the Saber's top speed. That means almost eight weeks for their return. Add
another ten weeks for the crabs to get their fleets joined and transit to
Xalcek. Eight more for the crabs to get here.”

 “So on the short side, we're looking at eight weeks
and on the long side, we have twenty-six weeks and at most. That's presuming
the alliance can actually do what they claim. I don't like how close to the far
end of that estimate our target completion for our fleet is.”

 Cobb said, “Unfortunately, we don't have any way to
speed things up. We worked out the efficiency curves for things like building
more tugs, more salvage ships, more construction docks. The plan we have is
already in the top ten percent of any combination of these factors. The current
plan also takes into account the time needed to recover the tugs and extra
salvage ships.”

 Coffee folded his fingers in front of his face,
resting his elbows on the desk and then rested his chin on his folded hands. He
paused, considering his words for a long moment before continuing, “So the
longer we can tie up the alliance ships here, the better.”

 Cobb shook his head. “Not necessarily. The time they
spend at the edge of our system gives them the opportunity to run sensor scans
and observe our operations. I would actually rather they depart immediately for
security's sake.”

 “I think the alliance long range sensors are already
telling them we're building a fleet. I doubt the closer range scans are telling
them much more. I'd rather they be held here as long as possible.”

 “I understand.”

 “Moving on to a different subject, what's that status
of the bombing investigation?”

 Cobb took a tablet computer out of his coat pocket and
tapped away at it for several seconds before answering. “As you suspected,
there's no direct connection between Patho's family and the Lashmere officer
who carried out the attack.”

 “Agent Cobb, while I appreciate the enhanced scrutiny
you've given Commander Patho in light of his assignment as the stealth corvette
squadron as commanding officer, your suspicions are beginning to border on
obsession. Like most Karn families, Patho had and does still have friends and
family who have strong feelings about the Ebrim people. Personally, I still
have a degree of discomfort having Karn in positions of such authority. What I
can't do is allow my personal feelings to get in the way of running the Navy.
Mister Patho has proved his loyalty and willingness to serve the people of
Lashmere on several occasions. Now, please continue with the status of the
investigation.”

 Cobb nodded and said, “I understand your point,
Admiral. Lieutenant Barnes had a number of connections to the Patho family. His
father served with Randall Patho, Aden Patho's father, in the war. There is
also evidence that Barnes was in regular communication with someone who might
be acting as a go-between for Asher, Aden's older brother. We're still working
on finding a way to monitor the separatist communication network. If Barnes had
survived the bombing, we might have a better idea of how the attack was
planned.”

 “Very well, Agent. Keep on it, but I don't want
Commander Patho being dragged further into the dirt over this. I think we've
sufficiently investigated any potential involvement he may have personally
had.”

 “As you wish, Admiral.” Cobb busied himself tapping
entries into his tablet computer.

 “With that out of the way, is there anything else in
the intelligence briefing?”

 Cobb tapped at his tablet a few more times before
answering. “No, admiral. Thank you for your time. I'll see myself out.”

 Coffee watched the man leave. He hoped the agent took
him seriously when he'd warned him to leave Patho alone. He began working on a
message, ordering Stokes to hold the alliance ships at the edge of the Lashmere
system. After sending the first message, he then sent a message to the tug
assigned to tow the Saber out, ordering them to delay as long as possible.

 Stokes sat in his office chair considering the orders
Coffee had sent him. After a few moments, he tapped his comm and said, “Mister
Bendel, come to my office.”

 A few minutes later, his executive officer walked
through the open door. “Yes, sir?”

 “Have a seat, Commander. We have a few things to
discuss. First, I want to ask how you're settling in to your new assignment?”

 “It's a bit overwhelming, sir. I was the operations
officer aboard Bastion before she was decommissioned. I knew there was a
possibility I'd receive a promotion, but executive officer on the new flagship
is a rather large leap, sir.”

 “Any problems I need to know about?”

 “No, sir,” Bendel said, his words rushing out one atop
the next. “If I had a problem I couldn't solve, I'd let you know.” He took a
second to visibly slow his thoughts before continuing, “The pace we're setting
with ship construction is so much faster than we can train new officers and
crew to their assignments. Most of the officers who've been assigned as
department heads have two years or less serving in space-going commands. Some
of them have been sent here straight from the academy. Very few of them have
anything like self-assuredness with their assigned duties.”

 “You're making some insightful observations so far,
exec. What do you propose we do about these issues,” Stokes asked. He was
curious what kind of man Bendel was, and knew the answers to the challenges
facing them would give him some insight.

 “I'd like to extend the standard working day by four
hours, sir. I know it's going to cause some morale problems, but without the
background expertise, we have to build proficiency among the crew. The academy
is already on a twelve hour per day six day per week schedule. Officers are
being graduated with only the most basic skills. The enlisted training program
has been shortened from twelve weeks to nine as well.” Bendel shook his head.
“What we need is another year to get our space force ready, and we don't have
it. The only thing we can do is get our people as ready as we can to give them
the best chance of surviving.”

 Stokes approved of the strategy Bendel had come up
with. The lower morale could be assuaged by a brief period of rest and
relaxation before the crabs actually arrived. Building the instinctual
understanding of the new ships and their capabilities was of paramount
importance. “I approve the extension of working hours, exec. Put out a notice
and begin working the new schedule first thing next week.”

 “Aye, sir,” Bendel said.

 Stokes said, “There is something else. Admiral Coffee
has given us a chore, and I would like your input on how to carry it out. He
wants the alliance ships held here for as long as possible. Do you have any
ideas on how to accomplish our orders?”

 “The alliance has made two demands of us. First to
return their ship and second to provide members of the expeditionary force for
their justice system to try and punish. The ship can be delayed somewhat, but
the key to keeping them where they are is to provide a lengthy and cumbersome
investigation. I suggest we invite them to observe and perhaps even participate
in our investigation into the expeditionary force survivors as they have
requested. If they're serious about wanting one or more people to punish, they
can't refuse to cooperate with our investigation.”

 “Excellent thinking, exec,” Stokes said. “I think we
can bring an envoy from the alliance in and tie them up for at least a few
days, if not for weeks with that strategy.”

 “We aren't actually considering handing anyone over to
the alliance, are we, Sir?” Bendel said.

 “Of course not. This is simply a delaying strategy to
give the shipyards time enough to build our fleet strength up.” Stokes filled
Bendel in on the time frames outlined in Coffee's message.

 Bendel whistles softly between his teeth. “So we might
be fighting the crab fleet in as little as two months. That's not enough time
to even get the next class of candidates out of the academy.”

 “True, but if our longer assumptions are correct, we
have a good chance of graduating at least the current class.”

 “How many candidates have we recruited for the current
enrollment?”

 “Roughly eleven thousand. More than sixty percent of
them are from the Karn region.”

 “Wow. That's going to change a lot of the makeup
within the Navy.”

 “Possibly. I'm more hopeful that it provides the
separatists with an incentive to put down their grievances.”

 “You were at the bombing, weren't you, sir?”

 “I was.”

 “What was that like?” Bendel had a mixed look of
curiosity and horror on his face. Stokes managed, with effort, not to chuckle.
“Well, honestly, I don't remember it too well. There was a tremendous noise and
then I remember just choking on a lot of dust and trying to resuscitate Admiral
Blackwood.”

 “Did we ever find out who carried out the bombing?”

 “Well, the details of the investigation are still
classified, but I can tell you that we know who carried out the actual bombing.
The bomber's motivations are still being investigated.”

 Bendel's expression clearly showed how much he wanted
to know who the bomber was, but he didn't give in to his curiosity. Instead, he
said, “Well, I'm glad we got them, sir.” Bendel fell silent for a moment and
watched as Stokes' eyes grew distant. Bendel continued, “I'm sure you tried
your best to save Admiral Blackwood, sir.”

 Stokes focused on his executive officer again and
said, “Sorry, Mister Bendel.” He shook his head. “It's a difficult thing to
hold someone as they die. I've had to do it far too often in my career.” Stokes
gave his head a shake. “Sometimes, the price for wearing the uniform can be
high. Sometimes... too high.” Stokes' thoughts drifted to Hanlon. He hoped she
was alive, somewhere. If there was any fairness in the universe at all, she'd
be alive.

 Bendel sat silently, unsure of what to say. He didn't
know if Stokes wanted a response to his statement or not. He decided to respond
directly to what Stokes had said, “We all know what we're signing up for when
we volunteer, sir. None of us are uncertain of what the price can be.”

 “I expect we do.” Stokes rubbed his hands in front of
him briskly before saying, “I'll begin a proposal to Admiral Misato. Report
back to the bridge.”

 “Aye, sir,” Bendel said.

 Stokes worked for a few moments at his computer and
then transmitted a comm request for Misato.

 It took Misato nearly ten minutes to respond to the
comm request. When his face did appear, he looked harried. “What can I do for
you, Franklin?”

 “Sir, I have a plan to hold the alliance ships here.
We're going to give them the investigation they want. Since I'm trying to buy
time, I can only guess how long I can hold them up, but I'll do my best to keep
them on the hook for as long as possible. I can't make any promises. They're
already pretty impatient with us.”

 “Do your best. I'll back your decisions. Misato out.”
The screen went back to the communications standby logo.

 The alliance ships allowed themselves to be stalled
for over two weeks while Stokes brought out delay after delay. In the end, the
alliance ships left, repeating their promise to entice the crab fleet into
moving against Lashmere. The following week was tense as naval leadership
watched the crab fleet like a hawk, uncertain of where they would turn. The
time was filled with the Lashmere shipyard straining as hard as it could to
produce ships and materials for system defense as fast as possible. Ships were
flowing out of the manufacturing rings at a pace far outstripping the number of
fully trained personnel to provide crews. Ships were moved into holding orbits
while officers and enlisted men and women were trained at a pace that made ship
production look positively leisurely by comparison.

 The Victorious returned to space dock several days
after the alliance squadron left for Xalcek. The morning after returning,
Stokes was sitting in his office when his door chime sounded.

 “Come in,” he said. The door slid open and admitted
Marli Simmons. “What can I do for you, Commander?” he asked.

 “Sir, I apologize for interrupting your routine. I
wanted to present a proposal for you to forward to the board of admirals.”

 Stokes put the task he was working on aside and gave
Simmons his full attention. “Go ahead, Commander.”