Merkiaari Wars: 02 - What Price Honour (45 page)

Vipers, no matter where they happened to be or what they happened to be doing, froze as their processors flashed an alert upon their displays indicating a priority message was incoming. Minutes later, black clad men and women sprinted for the nearest ground or air transport back to Petruso Base. People stopped to stare as vipers piled out of buildings in cities all over Snakeholme, and ran at top speed for the nearest maglev station.

* * *

Aboard ASN Victorious, in the zone, NGC 1513-4964

TF19
jumped into the system in battle formation. The stupendous bulk of
ASN Sutherland
was central to the formation and protected from all sides by her escort. As the only carrier assigned to
TF19
,
Sutherland
was an asset beyond price, but she was also a huge liability. The task force simply did not have enough ships to nursemaid a carrier, but they needed one to perform their mission. It was an insoluble situation, Captain Fernandez thought for the umpteenth time. His repeater displays suddenly blossomed with colour as
Sutherland
launched fighters to supplement her defence. He watched as the fighters piled on the acceleration and raced madly into the void. Most people had sense enough to avoid g-stress. Fighter pilots loved it.

“Contact,” Commander Hanson sang out from his position at scan. “Target designate: Alpha one through three. Two tin cans and a troop transport, Skipper.”

Fernandez aborted his fumbling attempt to remove his helmet. “Class?”

“The destroyers are
Broadsword
class, the transport is a…” Hanson looked up from the master plot’s display with a frown. “It’s an old
Hunter
class.”

The
Hunter
class of ships had been decommissioned more than a century ago. Before that they were the mainstay of the Alliance’s transport fleet. During the Merki war, more than ninety percent of all troop movements were accomplished using
Hunter
class ships.

“Designation?”

“I’m not picking up IFF, sir.”

Fernandez didn’t like that, he didn’t like that at all. “Keep us at battle stations. Try to contact them, Lena.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Braun, said and worked her consol. “I have… I have
General Burgton
on the line,” she gasped. “He says he would like to join us if that’s all right with you, sir.”

“Burgton…” he whispered. “
The
Burgton?”

“Yes, sir. Should I put him on?”

“On screen, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir.”

The screen activated to show a man with wide shoulders wearing black battle dress. He was sitting among others wearing similar uniform. It
was
Burgton. No one could ever mistake his face or his uniform. There were no navy personnel present on his bridge—none at all.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the honour Captain…?” Burgton said.

“I… I mean… Captain Fernandez of
Victorious
at your service, General.”

“At my service?” Burgton smiled tolerantly. “I rather think it’s the other way around don’t you?”

Fernandez nodded. “I’m sure the Admiral will want to speak with you, General. Your ships…” he paused to pull himself together. “I’m not reading IFF from your ships, General. Why not?”

“
Swordfish
and
Hammer
, my escort, will be departing momentarily, Captain Fernandez. As for
Grafton’s
IFF, none of my ships belong to the navy. They’re… they’re on permanent
loan
you might say.”

Broadsword
class destroyers on loan; on
permanent
loan? And no IFF? Not even courier ships were exempt. Privately owned or not, Burgton’s ships should still be broadcasting identity and registry. It seemed obvious that
Grafton
was crewed by the General’s men; he could see them on the screen. That being so, the destroyers were probably crewed by non-navy personnel also.

“I see,” Fernandez said thoughtfully. When the Council learned that Burgton had his own personal navy, the explosion would be heard from Kalmar to Northcliff… unless they already knew and approved? “I see indeed.
Grafton
may come ahead, General.
Victorious
out.”

Burgton nodded and the screen cleared to show
Grafton
manoeuvring clear of her escort.

“Keep an eye on those destroyers, XO.”

Hanson nodded, but then looked up immediately. “
Swordfish
and
Hammer
are moving, Skipper. They’re going for jump.”

Fernandez nodded as the destroyers jumped outsystem. “Get me the Admiral.”

* * *

Aboard Grafton, at station keeping, NGC 1513-4964

“All stop confirmed, General. Your shuttle is ready,” Stone said from his position at the helm.

“Thank you, Ken. Eric, you have the con.”

“Yes, sir, I have the con,” Penleigh said, leaving his place at communications to take the command station.

Burgton stepped into the lift followed by Colonel Flowers, Major Faggini, and Lieutenant Hymas. He had chosen the three to accompany him for various reasons. Dan Flowers was always with him, and had been since the beginning. Erica Faggini was officially CO of First Battalion; she would gain a valuable insight into the mission by converse with Admiral Meyers. Marion Hymas was along to listen. Burgton valued her advice, and she was a qualified shrink. If anyone knew what was going on in another’s head, it was Marion. Knowing the opposition was always a good thing.

They made their way through
Grafton’s
meticulously neat, though worn, corridors to the portside lock.
Grafton
was ancient, as ancient as Burgton felt sometimes. She had two small shuttles that rarely saw use in these days. The other pair of shuttles that had once resided on
Grafton’s
hull, were now used to ferry personnel to and from Uriel.

Burgton found an empty seat in the shuttle’s cabin and strapped in. “Who wants to drive?”

“My turn,” Hymas said, and took the pilot’s position.

He smiled at her eagerness. Whether it be a tank or a shuttle, she always liked taking the controls. Flowers took the co-pilot’s position by her side.

“What do we know of this Meyers? Have you met her?” Faggini said, as she strapped in.

Burgton shook his head. “I don’t know her, but I know
of
her. Paul Rawlins mentioned her once… hmmm, it was about twelve years ago as I recall. She wasn’t an admiral then of course.”

“Captain?”

“No, a commodore I believe. It was just after that business on Flotsam. Paul had a few things to say about Ken making too big a bang in that system… or some such thing.” Burgton shrugged. “I really don’t care what it was about. We cleared the scum out for a few years anyway.”

Faggini grinned. “Ken does have a way of doing that, but you know they always come back. They’re like weeds. Pull them up, and another batch grow next year.”

“And I’ll pull them up again,” he said grimly, remembering all the times he had sent his people to do just that—quite often on missions that duplicated earlier ones down to the letter. “It’s getting worse you know.”

“What? Worse did you say? It’s always been like this.”

The shuttle undocked and accelerated toward
Victorious
. Burgton took no notice of being pushed deeper into his couch. He was too busy studying the figures he had instructed his processor to display. They made grim reading.

“I said it’s always been like this,” Faggini said again when Burgton failed to answer.

“Sorry, I was just going over some things. The Alliance is heading for a fall; a big one. Within twenty years we’ll have a breakaway—probably led by Bethany.”

“You know what I think about that, George. It won’t happen, especially not with this Merki attack.”

Burgton pursed his lips and considered. Finally he gave a sharp nod. “Perhaps you’re right, I hope so. I told Paul they would be back in five years, and I would have stood by that, but here we are off to war before we’re ready. Look at the figures. We’ve had more missions in the last fifty years than in the entire time preceding that—not including the war of course. It’s getting worse. Raider ships are no longer patched together junk. They have heavy cruisers now. A century ago, they threatened cargo, now they threaten entire colonies. Back then a single cruiser outgunned them, and easily took them out. Now the navy uses task forces, and they don’t always win.”

Faggini sighed. “I know, I know, but you realise what you’re saying?”

“Of course I do,” Burgton said grimly. “Without the Merki, we would be constantly at war with ourselves.” He accessed a view from the shuttle’s forward sensors, and watched as they slowed for docking.
Victorious’
armoured hide swung into view with her gun ports sealed giving only a hint of the destructive capacity they contained. “What would happen if Bethany and say… Alizon broke away? How many naval vessels are crewed by patriotic men and women? Men and women who still think in the old way, men and women willing to desert the Alliance to go to the aid of their home worlds?”

A crease of worry appeared upon Faggini’s brow marring her flawless face. “Ties like that are strong, George, but navy crews are too diverse. Ships are never crewed exclusively from Bethany, or any other world for that matter.”

“That won’t stop it. Our history is rife with wars. The Merkiaari are an outlet for our baser instincts… a reason not to kill each other if you will, but memories are short.”

“Not ours.”

“No, not ours, but the unenhanced don’t know them like we know them. They live for the present, and only see what’s in their short term interest. Even the Council has been guilty of it. I’ve been trying to convince them to build more of us for years now. I’ve tried to make them see, but they will not. We need a dozen or more viper regiments, not one.”

“I don’t know that even a dozen would be enough to destroy the Merkiaari utterly, George, and from what you say, we shouldn’t try. Their threat holds the Alliance together.”

Burgton nodded, but he was troubled. Hearing his own words used to defend the Merkiaari, to actually
prevent
their destruction, went against everything he was built to achieve. His purpose was to seek and destroy them, yet if he did by some miracle manage to kill them all, he would be sowing the seeds of the Alliance’s own destruction… or at least its fragmentation.

“The Council are afraid of me… of us,” he said with a wry smile. “They will never build another regiment, and perhaps that’s for the best considering how paranoid some of them are. As long as the Merkiaari remain a threat, we are strong.”

“As long as that’s all they are,” Faggini warned. “I have to tell you, George, I’m damn worried. We have six hundred and forty units here, and none of them have been battle tested. They say we’re going up against a few divisions and a light cruiser squadron, which I might add, will give Admiral Meyers a run for her money. What if they’re wrong? What if they’ve been reinforced? What if—”

“We can play
what
if
all day. We’ll know soon enough.”

Docking commenced and Burgton made ready to put on his show. He was the hero of Garnet, of Thorfinni… and of San Luis. He was the big bad Merkiaari killer. Was there anything left of the young Human officer he had been at the beginning of the war? After a moment’s thought, he decided there wasn’t. He was the man that personally oversaw the utter annihilation of an entire world. It was a world of Merkiaari, but still a world.

He closed his eyes as his processor dragged up the well accessed memory file of San Luis. He saw himself standing among the dead, with rivers of blood running down the street and flowing thickly into the drains. The sky was the colour of ash and the noise… he still heard it all these years later. The roaring of the fires, and the crashing of the buildings succumbing to them. They had been badly weakened by the regiment’s assault, and the bombing before that. Above it all, he heard the screams of the aliens as they burned.

San Luis had been an object lesson to the Merkiaari; he had decided they needed one after what they did to Garnet and him. He had turned San Luis into a charnel house, a bonfire, a Merki’s vision of hell if they had such a thing. Oh yes, he had lit a fire on San Luis all right. He had thrown them on top, and stepped back to watch them burn. That was what the Alliance saw when they looked at him—a larger than life man in black uniform standing upon a mountain of Merki corpses. They wanted the
hero
, so that is what he gave them—always.