Stark's Command (20 page)

"Torpedoes, you mean? Anybody know what the difference is between a missile and a torpedo?"

"They're pretty much the same thing," another watch-stander advised, "but aircraft or ground installations fire missiles while space warships fire torpedoes."

"What? Why?"

"I dunno, Commander. It's a Navy thing."

Stark glared over at Vic. "With all my other problems, now I gotta try to understand how the Navy thinks."

"Don't ask me. I've never figured them out."

"But we have to let those lifeboats come down. They're counting on us."

"No argument here." Vic favored Stark with a sidelong look. "But, what about the shuttles? Are you going to let them come down, too?"

"Damn, Vic, what the hell else can I do?" He waved wordlessly at the display, where a half-dozen large symbols lunged after the lifeboats and their escorting shuttles. More symbology flashed to life, tracing the paths of defensive weaponry fired by the shuttles to slow their pursuers, seeding a temporary minefield to drift far above as the Moon turned below it. "Mines?" Stark asked, recognizing the threat symbols by their similarity to those used for land mines. "How long do those space mines last?" Blank looks met his question.

"It can't be long," Vic noted. "They'd drift right into commercial space in no time."

"Variable lifespan," Tanaka shouted from a terminal as her fingers danced over the tactical database screen. "Maximum thirty minutes."

"Not long," Stark muttered. "But those other ships are almost into them. Wait. What're they doing?"

Symbology flared, marking short-range fire from the Navy ships as they targeted the minefield. Mines burst into premature death as the Navy ships braked short of the minefield to give them time to blast a channel through the threat area. "I guess those ships could track our own mines, but that still bought the lifeboats some time," Vic approved.

"Not enough time," Tanaka announced grimly. "Here's the projected intercept plot." Long arcs curved across the display suddenly. "You see? Those big ships have a lot more mass than the shuttles, but they've got much bigger drives to push it all, and the lifeboats don't look like they're designed for speed. It'll be close. Real close."

"The lifeboats will get clear," Vic stated firmly. "I can read a tactical plot, and that one says they've got enough time to get under our defenses."

"Yeah," Stark agreed, "but those shuttles are behind the lifeboats, protecting them, and they're gonna have big ships right on their tails when they get near us. I've got to worry about them."

"You've got the entire Colony to worry about."

"I know that! What if I tell the shuttles not to land and they try anyway? I can't shoot my own people!"

"Sometimes you have to. To save the rest."

Stark froze at the cold words, his eyes involuntarily shifting to stare at the Silver Star ribbon on Vic's left breast.
She knows. She shot a Lieutenant to save the rest of her platoon. No other way. Is this the same thing?
"Vic, we owe these guys."

"I know they've kept the route to the Colony open—"

"That's not what I mean. Remember when the enemy counter invaded? Way back at the beginning of this mess?" New stars blossoming in the endless black above the still-unfamiliar lunar terrain. Fearful soldiers staring upward, knowing the Navy was buying them all the time it could. "They held off the invasion force long enough for us to set up defenses. If those sailors hadn't stood and fought and died, we'd have been creamed down here. We
owe
them, Vic."

Momentary silence, then a single nod. "We do. How do we pay a past debt without endangering present responsibilities?"

Stark glowered at the display, thoughts running through his mind.
Let 'em come down and the hell with risks? Or leave 'em out there to die? No! That's not gonna happen. Not as long as I'm in charge. Why don't I have another option?

"Commander?" Sergeant Tanaka asked urgently.

"Yeah, Jill."

"I've got the head civ on the line. Campbell. He says it's real urgent and sounds real unhappy."

"Welcome to the party. Put 'im on."

Campbell stared out of the vid display, face almost frantic. "Sergeant Stark, my people at the spaceport say there's a space battle going on near the Colony."

"I know that." Stark spoke evenly, trying to calm the civilian as he would a panicky Private. "There's some kind of trouble on a couple of Navy ships. Their crews are heading for the spaceport."

"Trouble?" Campbell didn't seem the least bit reassured by Stark's demeanor. "You mean mutiny? Dear God. And they're coming here?"

"That's right." Stark glanced at the display to one side of Campbell's image. "Mostly in lifeboats."

"Sergeant, this is a very serious escalation of events. If the authorities think we are actively trying to export some sort of revolution they'll—"

"I can't help what anybody thinks. I'm just dealing with this situation."

"Letting those lifeboats land here could have serious implications for the agreements on exchange of your families for the officers. And a Naval battle involving our own ships right over the Colony will greatly increase the threat to everyone here. You can't permit it."

Stark kept his face rigid, though he felt his jaw tightening in anger. "Don't tell me I can't help people who need help."

"The Colony—"

Can go to hell.
"Don't push me, Campbell! I'm dealing with a big problem here, but I'm not leaving anyone outside the perimeter just to make my life easier."

Campbell stopped speaking, his face that of a man who'd run into a brick wall that had come out of nowhere, then tried again, voice pleading. "Sergeant Stark, please—"

On the display, weapons flew, symbols tracking out from the pursuing Navy ships toward the shuttles and their herd of lifeboats. Counterfire flared in return as the shuttles spat out their own barrage of defensive munitions aimed at the other weapons. "I don't have time for this," Stark interrupted bluntly. "I'll notify you when the crisis is over." He broke the connection, glaring toward Reynolds. "Just what I needed right now."

"Don't expect me to comment on the civs. But we've only got about five minutes left before those shuttles get close enough to threaten us."

"Damn."
This wouldn't be a problem if those blasted shuttles weren't armed. Wish I could frag their . . .
"Hey, Tanaka."

"Yessir."

"Those Navy ships opened their systems to you. Could you disable their weapons when they do that?"

"Uh, yes, Commander," she affirmed after a hasty glance toward another watch-stander, who was nodding repeatedly. "We're set up to remotely control any weapon system in any unit from here."

"Get ahold of those shuttles. Tell 'em we're taking control of their weapon systems and shutting them down before they enter our defensive umbrella."

"What if they don't agree?"

"Then they don't get in. No negotiating."

It was quiet for a while then, as they watched the symbols arc gracefully through space. The bright swarm of lifeboats was herded by four bulkier symbols representing the shuttles, their offensive and defensive weapons clashing in an insect ballet of multicolored symbology. Tanaka's voice in the background spoke urgently. "Commander?"

"Yeah."

"Wiseman doesn't want to do it. She says those hostile ships are too close, and they might nail her if her weapons aren't working."

"Hand me the circuit. Chief Wiseman?"

"Give us a break, Stark! We're fighting a damn battle up here, and you want to take away our weapons!"

"I'm giving you a break. I'm letting you inside our defenses. But I'm not letting you inside unless your weapons are disabled from here."

"What if we get blown away because of that? Huh? I'm telling you, we may well get killed if you insist on this."

Stark's eyes shifted away from the symbology, staring into a dark corner of the Command Center, remembering black shadows on the lunar surface and the brilliant white light around them.
Black and white. Like life and death. Separate. Somehow intertwined. There's a gun pit you've got to take out. Who do you send to die so the other members of the squad don't? Simple math. One is less than three or four. But the math never made the decisions easy, and they never got any easier.
"Chief Wiseman. I've got thousands of people depending on me. That's my first priority. Right now, you're second. I can't change that."

A moment's silence, then Wiseman came back, voice deflated. "Yeah. You got your wish, ground ape. Take over our weapons when you think you need to. Just leave them to us as long as possible, okay?"

"We'll do our best."

"If I make it down, you owe me a beer."

"I'll be happy to pay off that bet." Stark felt Vic's hand on his shoulder, a firm squeeze that transmitted reassurance and approval before dropping away. He fought down a shudder, maintaining an impassive stance as the fleeing vessels drew closer to the Colony's surface defenses, and the pursuing ships closed on the mutineers. "Have the anti-orbital defenses been told what's going on?"

"Yes, sir," Tanaka confirmed. "They don't want to shoot, though."

"I don't blame 'em. But I bet some warning shots will do the job. Tell them to let loose before the Navy ships really get within range. If we're lucky, that'll scare 'em off before things get any worse."

"Got it. Systems are estimating we're getting within range of the shuttle weapons about now."

"Take 'em over. Shut 'em down."

"Yes, sir. Shutting down now."

He'd never had to do that before. Take weapons away from someone being shot at. There'd always been a way to work the system, avoid leaving someone with their butts hanging out.
I gotta plan better. I need to look ahead so I know how to handle this stuff without getting my options blocked.
"You still got vid from Wiseman's shuttle?"

"Uh, negative. The Navy ships are close enough to jam comms now."

"Use the command overpower, then."

Tanaka shook her head. "Those ships are big enough to carry real powerful electronic warfare gear. When they're jamming at that close a range, we can't punch through it."

"Do we still have control of the shuttle weapons?" Vic snapped.

"It doesn't matter," Tanaka insisted. "We finished shutting them down before we lost contact. They can't reactivate without overriding the command system watchdogs."

"Which we know how to do on our systems," Vic reminded her. "Ethan, those shuttle weapons might be hot again."

"Yeah." Watching the lifeboats falling toward the spaceport. Watching threat symbology climbing past them as the Colony surface defenses slammed warning shots at the big Navy ships. Watching the shuttles desperately evading fire from the big ships.

"Ethan?"

"Let 'em land." Closer now, everything closer. The big ships snapping at the heels of the shuttles. Another volley from the Colony batteries. A shuttle symbol flickered amid the swarm of threat symbology, hazing out. "Did we lose one?"

"We can't tell," Tanaka reported. "Too much jamming, too much junk from all the weaponry. We might have just lost track of it."

The three remaining shuttles seemed to halt their downward path, as if preparing to go to the defense of their fellow shuttle.
We're gonna lose them all. Damn. I blew it. Sorry, Chief Wiseman.

"The fourth shuttle's still there!" a watch-stander sang out. The symbol reappeared, flashing damage status. The other shuttles rallied around it, then dropped toward the lunar surface. Above, the big ships fell back, maneuvering drives pushing them onto new courses, curving out, back into empty space where the Colony defenses couldn't reach. It took a moment for it all to sink in, the sudden lack of threat warnings, the strangely peaceful trajectories of the shuttles falling toward the lunar surface.

"It's over?" Vic questioned, incredulous. "The battle's over?"

"Looks like it." Stark exhaled, suddenly aware he hadn't been breathing. He scanned the display again, searching for the scattered exchanges of fire that would have been part of the slow wind down of a land battle. "I guess Navy battles are neater than ground fighting."

"They look neater, anyway."

"Stark?" Wiseman's voice was ragged with audible relief. "You owe me more than a damn beer."

Stark glanced at Tanaka. "We got comms again. Their weapon systems still cold?"

She consulted her display, then looked up in surprise. "Yessir. It doesn't look like they even tried to reactivate them."

Stark took a moment to flash a told-you-so look at Vic, who nodded back in exaggerated agreement. "Welcome to the Moon, Chief Wiseman. Park your shuttles where the spaceport authorities direct." A sudden focus on damage markers near the shuttle symbology. "Do you have any wounded?"

"A few. We're mostly just banged up from being tossed around, but some took heavier hits."

"We'll have medics on the way." Stark looked toward Tanaka, who nodded and turned to her console to pass on the orders. "Are you in charge, Chief Wiseman? Of all the sailors comin' down?"

"Uh, I guess so."

"I need that for sure. I also need to be sure you can maintain discipline."

"If any sailors get out of line, one of the Chiefs will bounce them off a bulkhead."

"Good. I'll be at the spaceport soon to meet you. Keep your people there until then. We'll work out barracks assignments as quick as we can."

"Okay. See you in a while. Wiseman, out."

Stark hung his head a moment, leaning on his console with both arms rigid, letting the tension drain from him. "Vic, make sure we have enough troops on hand at the spaceport to handle anything."

"You mean combat troops?"

"Yeah. There might still be trouble. Maybe these sailors won't want to accept my authority. Maybe they'll be ready to riot. Whatever it is, I want people there to keep a lid on things."

"You got it." Reynolds laughed suddenly. "Well, Ethan Stark, congratulations. You had an Army, and now you have a Navy."

"A Navy. Great. Want to be an admiral?"

"No, thanks. I don't look good in blue." She saluted briskly. "I'll take charge at the spaceport. The ready reserve company in that sector ought to be enough to handle anything the sailors might try."