Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5) (30 page)

“I’m sorry. What did you say about the encryption keys?” Chong asked.

Z asked privately.

“When Julien asked about the command officers’ personal keys, Z assumed that we would need them and borrowed a copy from your secure storage, Admiral,” Alex explained.

“While we were talking, that …” Chong said, struggling to control his temper.

“SADE … yes, Admiral … decided it was expedient to acquire the encryption keys for your naval officers. Now, if you wish to make an issue of it, we can stop and talk about it.”

“Admiral,” Woo cautioned.

“Proceed, President Racine,” Chong said, reluctantly relenting.

“I believe Z was speaking.”

“Apologies, Admiral, your permission should have been requested. I was merely trying to save us time. I was saying that we can begin issuing the messages early this evening, Idona time. We need only to add an activation time for your orders.”

“Well, Z, permission is granted, belatedly so. You’re saying you will be ready within hours?”

“That’s presuming all SADEs are able to be involved, Admiral. If the president —”

“Z,” Cordelia cautioned, signaling that it was time for reflection on the part of the leaders, not time for them to hear extensive planning details.

“Well, Tribune Woo, do you have an opinion as to when we should start the war against our own people?” Chong asked with an air of sad resignation.

Woo was about to pick an arbitrary time when a thought occurred to her. “Sirs and lady … apologies, I’m unsure how to address you, the Haraken SADEs, as a group.”

“Sers, will do nicely,” Julien replied. “If I may anticipate your needs, Tribune, you’re about to ask us to recommend an appropriate time, which will allow your commanders a sufficient window of warning to make preparations without placing them in jeopardy if the enclave’s message already reaches those in their command.”

“Yes, I was,” Woo acknowledged, and her soft laugh followed.

“Mr. President?” asked Julien, which surprised Woo and Chong. They would have been more surprised if they had seen the flow of information between Alex and the SADEs.

Z pulled the ship assignment records from Admiral Chong’s secure servers, without asking for permission this time either. Cordelia modeled the ship positions onto a visual matrix of the system. Julien added a timeline for the receipt of the enclave’s message to reach 60, 70, 80, and 90 percent of the known judiciary commanders, if the transmission was to have occurred within hours after the leaders’ broadcast. Alex created scenarios for captains and commanders to untangle themselves from the more dangerous positions, overlaying those timespans on Cordelia’s visual matrix.

“Tribune Woo and Admiral Chong, giving the commanders thirty-six hours, by your clock, is sufficient preparation time,” Alex replied. “If we add the time when we complete the sending of our messages and allow for the average lapse in time until the message might be read, we can round that time to forty-eight hours from now. I presume you have some sort of standard Sol time for your naval orders?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Woo replied. “As of this moment, it’s 15:23 hours Earth naval time.”

“So we will commence your war in two days at 15:30 hours Earth naval time. May the stars protect you and your people, Sers.”

Captain Charnoose was doing his best to fit into his new command, but he seemed to be constantly butting heads with his commodore, and he was beginning to understand why. It was as if they reported to two different branches of the Tribunal, even though they received their pay from the same branch.

The captain finished his breakfast in his stateroom, took a deep gulp of his cup of caf, and pulled his monitor around to him. On the top of the queue was a private, encoded message, which could only be read on his monitor. Charnoose entered his key and begin reading. He reread the message several times, and his caf turned cold while he contemplated its meaning.

War between the branches was imminent. That part he understood. It was the notes about his commodore and his escort captains that took some thought. When he reread the message again slowly, it dawned on him that there were no orders, just suppositions about his compatriots to guide him in making a critical decision, which might save or cost him his life.

One thing was clear. His commodore and bridge officers were of a like mind. On this ship, Charnoose knew he was a dead man. The cruiser had four destroyer escorts, and the message indicated two captains were pro-naval, one captain was considered unknown, and the fourth was decidedly judiciary.

Since Admiral Chong’s signature was affixed to the message, authenticating it, and the Idona broadcast was recently on his mind, Charnoose decided to make a private call to Captain Darwoo, hoping the captain had already read his message.

“Captain Darwoo, I’ve been reviewing your readiness reports, and I have some concerns,” Charnoose said after he asked the captain to take his call privately in his stateroom.

“Yes, Captain, what sort of concerns might those be?” Darwoo asked, wondering if this call was related to the message he read earlier this morning.

“I would rather discuss those in private, Captain … sometime within the next thirty-six hours let’s say.”

“I see,” Darwoo said, his suspicions confirmed. “I’m having Captain Terrine over for a relaxed meal this evening. You could join us, and we can discuss your concerns afterwards.”

“I appreciate the offer of a meal, Captain. I hear your steward has some skills in the kitchen.”

“That he does. Dinner is at 18:30 hours, Captain. I’ll tell the bosun to expect your shuttle. Feel free to pack a bag if our conversation takes us late into the evening.”

Charnoose breathed a sigh of relief after the comm closed. Earlier, he had the suspicion that someone was testing him or he was becoming paranoid, but Darwoo confirmed that he had received the same type of message. “Pack a bag,” meant Darwoo didn’t expect Charnoose to return to the cruiser.

The dinner that evening aboard Darwoo’s destroyer was made to look as casual as possible until the plates were cleared, drinks dispensed, cups of caf freshened, and the stewards retired.

“So both of you received messages,” Charnoose confirmed, and the other captains nodded.

“You’re a dead man if you return to your cruiser, and the commodore gets the enclave’s message,” Darwoo said.

“That I know. What do you two know about Captain Heywood?” asked Charnoose.

“I thought you knew? Heywood is a transfer request from the commodore,” Darwoo replied.

“So much for the admiral placing him in the unknown column,” Terrine groused.

“So what’s the plan, Commodore?” Darwoo asked.

“What?” Charnoose asked.

“As I see it, we just became a two-destroyer squadron that needs a commander. You’re the senior captain. So that makes you the acting commodore,” Darwoo explained.

“And while we’re on the subject of command,” Terrine added. “I would appreciate you, Commodore, making my destroyer your flagship. As you know, I was just promoted six months ago from patrol ship to destroyer. You have a great deal more experience than me commanding a destroyer.”

Charnoose looked at the expectant faces of his fellow captains and said, “Acting commodore it is, and I’ll command from Captain Terrine’s ship. Now, here is what I plan to do.”

Captain Charnoose messaged his commodore the next morning that he was going to conduct some overlapping fire drills with a pair of destroyers to give the new Captain Terrine some experience with cruiser protection, which was heartedly accepted by the commodore. By 15:30 hours Earth naval time, the two destroyers were well away from the other ships in the squadron when they accelerated to full speed.

Cruiser contact came within minutes, but, per Charnoose’s orders, the calls were not returned. The acting commodore announced to his two destroyer crews that orders had been received directly from Space Admiral Li Chong that pro-naval forces were now at war with judiciary forces.

An hour into their accelerated burn and wondering where to go, Charnoose received a comm call.

“Commodore, I have a call from a Haraken for you,” Terrine announced.

Part of the message the captains received said that if they received directions or intelligence from the Harakens, they were to consider it as coming from the space admiral’s office.

“Put him through, Captain,” Charnoose ordered.

“Her, Commodore,” Terrine corrected, “at least I think you call it a her. It’s one of those intelligent machines.”

“Greetings, Commodore Charnoose, and congratulations on your timely escape,” Cordelia said.

“Thank you, Ms. —”

“You may call me Cordelia, Commodore. I have a destination for you and have already given your pilot the coordinates. We have a need for your two destroyers at one of Jupiter’s moons, Callisto, where a destroyer squadron is about to be outgunned. We need your support, Commodore. Make haste. We will be in contact again soon.”

Commodore Dahlia Braxton, standing on her destroyer’s bridge, was startled by the image of a strange, broad-shouldered man that popped up on her central monitor.

“Greetings, Commodore, I am Z. I believe you are about to be ambushed, if I’m using the term correctly.”

Questions flitted through Braxton’s mind, not the least of which was asking the huge man how he had control of her destroyer’s comms and, if he was a Haraken, was he typical of the humans, but she focused on his key word “ambush.”

“We have comms with Callisto militia, Z. They would have warned us if there was danger,” Braxton replied.

“The militia’s comms have been compromised, Commodore, which we are attempting to correct. In the meantime, you’re approaching Callisto from an inward direction, and there is a cruiser and two destroyers waiting in orbit on the opposite side of the moon.

The commodore swore under her breath for a moment, which Z couldn’t hear, but he could read Braxton’s lips. Several expressions were new to him, so he stored them in the appropriate directory

“My four destroyers can’t take on a cruiser and its escorts, Z,” replied Braxton, worried that she was going to be asked to do just that.

“That’s why I’m requesting you halt your advance, Commodore. I’m sending you help, and I have a plan.

Z closed that comm and opened another, contacting Commodore Charnoose, who was approaching Callisto from outward of Jupiter and would have to swing around the planet to reach Callisto. “Greetings, Commodore, I’m following up on Cordelia’s contact with you. Your pilot now has the telemetry on the situation developing at Callisto. Please regard your left monitor, Ser.”

On the destroyer’s bridge screen appeared a layout of the far side of Jupiter and its four largest moons, of which the farthest out was Callisto. “A cruiser and two destroyers are waiting to attack a destroyer squadron approaching from inward. You will aid them by taking this course.” A dotted line illustrated the course, which allowed Charnoose’s two destroyers to remain hidden until they broke cover from behind Ganymede, although the curve of Callisto would obscure their approach for a little longer.

“I see the judiciary has a cruiser and two destroyers against our six destroyers. It will be a close fight, Z,” Charnoose allowed. The commodore wasn’t a coward, but he was a practical man and liked the odds in his favor.

“Not to worry, Commodore, you will have further aid. Please follow the timeline and course, precisely. Good fortune, Commodore.”

In the meantime, Braxton nervously paced her bridge, waiting for Z to respond with the help he promised her. The commodore’s instincts were to retreat, but Admiral Chong’s message on this subject was clear and explicit: “Do not underestimate the value of the Harakens’ data. These are people who possess artificial intelligence and can defeat a fleet with mere fighters, suffering negligible losses on their part.”

Many hours later, while Braxton had just begun a quick shower in an attempt to cool her impatience, the destroyer’s comms officer hailed her. “Commodore, you’re wanted on the comm.”
Of course, now the Haraken calls,
Braxton thought with frustration. Throwing on a robe and toweling off her short, wet hair, she took the comm at her stateroom desk, but, to her surprise, the call wasn’t from the Haraken.

“Commodore Braxton, this is Commodore Charnoose. I’ve been directed by the Haraken SADE, Z, to support you. I’m approaching Callisto from outward of Jupiter. Presently, I’m hidden behind Ganymede. According to Z, your four destroyers will make a clockwise run at the hidden cruiser and its escorts. I will be attacking with two destroyers from about 135 degrees farther spinward from you.”

“Is that man who contacted me one of the artificials?” Braxton asked.

“They refer to themselves as SADEs, Commodore.”

“SADEs or humans … I have to tell you, Commodore Charnoose, if our messages hadn’t come from Admiral Chong himself, I would say this is foolhardy, being directed by a … whatever … sitting over 3 billion kilometers from us.”

“Your pardon, Commodore Braxton, but I owe my life to the timeliness of the admiral’s message, which had to have been coordinated and distributed by the Harakens, probably by their SADEs. Our people certainly couldn’t have done it. And I’ve been guided here by two SADEs to support you when you would have flown into a cruiser’s trap.”

“We’re still six destroyers against a cruiser and two escorts, and militia comms is sure to warn them.”

“According to Z, the comms have been reacquired, and they are fronting bogus communications to the cruiser. Also, Z promises us further aid, but he wasn’t specific. I take it the SADEs are fairly busy if they are doing what they are doing for you and me all over the system.”

“We are putting a great deal of trust in these people, Charnoose, but let’s do this. Set your contact clock with the enemy to 8:35 hours, Sir.”

“As the Harakens say … may the stars protect you, Braxton.”

“Good luck to you too, Charnoose.”

“You want me to do what?” the militia commander cried out.