The Storm's Path #2
Episode 5: Repercussions
Errors and defeats are more obviously illustrative of principles than successes are . . . Defeat cries aloud for explanation; whereas success, like charity covers a multitude of sins.
-Rear Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan-
1145 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
They had been two hours into their Ready 5 duty when the alarms had gone off. The deck crews, those who had not been involved in routine maintenance on the six Lancers that sat on standby, came scrambling out of their rest areas and into the flight bay proper.
It was kind of interesting seeing men and women, clad in clumsy-looking space suits scrambling through the airlock hatch into a microgravity environment, flailing around like a mass of frenzied lemmings as they swam to their assigned posts.
As soon as the pilots were properly strapped in and their opaque cockpits sealed, the launch bay doors had been opened and the fighters launched in quick succession. Despite the fact that no enemy had penetrated Olympian space in the months since the war started with the epic Battle of Kurtzenheim, the crews were still sharp and they had all launched in under five minutes as advertised.
The same can't be said for us pilots, Private Adora Cheong thought to herself as she felt the acceleration pressing her back into her seat. Their half-squadron had just completed their latest vector change, their sixth in almost as many minutes. Apparently, Joshua's Station Tactical Control was being very unclear with its instructions. Or at least that was what Lieutenant Ishigawa seemed to want the squadron to believe.
Adora could find a better reason though she wouldn't be the first to voice it out. The months of being on constant standby, or sitting in their cockpits flying patrols or waiting in the launch bay hour upon seemingly endless hour had left them all shattered . . . and sloppy.
Even now as they flew out from Joshua's Station; their thrusting drives struggling to put more distance between them and the colony cylinder; their formation was far from perfect. Even though her best friend and wingman, Private Candice Yap flew in close to her, they were all struggling to follow Lieutenant Ishigawa's erratic lead.
We're burning up precious fuel here . . . Adora frowned at the fuel gauge on her instrument panel. Like all auxiliary craft, a Lancer's fuel supply was limited, even more so than the average exo-armor. Lancers spent most of their time coasting from point to point. When not in combat, all a pilot did was steer the interceptor onto the right heading, burn some reaction mass to build up some decent speed and let Newton's First Law do the rest.
But from the way their squadron leader kept changing course, Adora was sure they'd run out of reaction mass before they even got into contact with the enemy, or whatever bogeyman higher command had wanted them to intercept.
The thought of that made Adora consult her instruments again. The weapons status displays were still showing in a dull green, indicating that they were not yet armed. Her IM-09 Lancer was flying in the Pilumconfiguration today, having given up the twin racks of MMJ6D wing-launched missiles and the HMJ-6 heavy missiles for a QFS laser and sixteen MMJ-2LR long-range missiles which came pack conveniently in the detachable Advanced Tactical Mission Pod which was fitted to the interceptor's belly.
Candice on the other hand, had her Lancer configured for bomber operations instead. The snap-on ATMP housing four MMJ4 smart missiles and twenty RJ-56 unguided rockets. It was a load that would leave her extremely vulnerable to attack by exos and other interceptors but that sort of firepower was lethal against capital ships.
Adora stared at the red plastic protective cover that remained in the 'safe' position, hiding the tiny metal switch that would allow her to arm all her onboard weaponry with a single flick. She wondered off-handedly if she would get to use any ordnance today. While she did not relish the thought of having to kill anyone, combat would have certainly been a welcome change. At least it seemed like a better alternative than to be on constant standby and waiting for something to happen while the rest of the nation was purportedly at war.
"Alright, people, we should be getting sensor contact in another minute or so." Lieutenant Ishigawa said, still sounding flustered after their latest change in course. "Red Flight, on me. Sergeant Grimes, you have Blue Flight."
Sergeant Grimes, Adora and Candice's flight leader grunted a terse, 'Roger' before he broke away from the rest of the squadron. The two women were quick to follow the sergeant's lead. Again, Adora winced as the indicator of her fuel gauge dipped visibly again when she applied thrust to follow Grimes.
The seconds began to drag by and Adora stared at the cockpit walls, squinting in hopes of spotting something. Unlike other interceptors, the Lancer had an opaque cockpit which boasted a wraparound holographic display similar to that of exo armors, offering pilots a pretty good view of their surroundings. Of course, some pilots insisted that it was better to use the naked eye, but given the vast distances in space, it seemed rather meaningless to Adora to try spotting anything smaller than a warship.
There was a distinct beep in her headset and she glanced at the pop-up window which showed the sensor returns. The whisker antennae of her active sensors positioned along her fuselage were beginning to pick up some solid returns now. There was a moment of hesitation as the targeting computer ran the sensor returns through the onboard computer database before coming up with a possible match.
She frowned at the result and tapped the multi-function display in front of her, wondering if it was defective. The target schematic refused to change and Adora's frowned deepened. A Thunderbolt cruiser . . .?
"Lieutenant . . ." She began but Ishigawa cut her off.
"Radio silence. Accelerate to combat speed." The squadron leader snapped. "Let's make it a quick pass. Recon only."
There was another beep and the red icon resolved and turned blue. The other icons on the sensor display were changing now, the red symbolizing 'unidentified, assumed hostile' now being replaced by blue which denoted friendly contacts. The incoming ships were all squawking friendly IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) transponder codes.
What's going on here . . . Adora frowned again. More ships were appearing on her sensor display. More red blips turning blue. Friendly or otherwise, it suddenly it seemed ludicrous that a mere half-dozen Lancers were being sent to meet such a potent force. More ships were being identified now. Even as the acceleration from her fighter's fusion drives pressed her against her seat, Adora gasped at the array of warships that they were streaking towards. One Godsfire, two Valiants, five Alexanders, nine Thunderbolts . . . and the list went on.
She glanced at the speed indicator and then at the data on her targeting computer. The rate of closure was frightening, reminding her of the thankfully rare 'lightning strike' practice flights that she had flown back in training. She gripped the control column with both hands, feeling them go slick with sweat within her sealed gauntlets while her breath sounded incredibly loud in her ears. Several specks seemed to flash into existence ahead of her. They weren't twinkling so they couldn't be stars, which meant . . .
"Whoa!" Candice yelped as several dots flashed into existence ahead of the specks that Adora was focusing on. These new arrivals swelled in a heartbeat, then scream right overhead, seeming to miss them by mere inches. "Lancers . . .?"
Adora craned her neck to glimpse over her shoulder at rapidly shrinking shapes. It sure looked like a flight of Lancers that had just buzzed them. How was it that they failed to pick them up on their sensors?
But before Adora could pursue that train of thought any further, Lieutenant Ishigawa's high-pitched and seemingly flustered voice cut into their headsets and thoughts. "Eyes front, people!"
Adora forced herself to look ahead, just in time to see the immense prow of a Godsfire supercarrier literally ballooning into her face while the slender shapes of Thunderbolt cruisers slashed past. She barely had the time to shriek in surprise as she found herself flying through the dense formation of a fleet before she was through.
Heart pounding crazily in her chest and her hair surprisingly slick with sweat, Adora managed to gasp a strained, "They're ours!"
"That's right, Private." Ishigawa said breathlessly. "I thought we could do with the 'lightning strike' practice. I think we can call this a successful run, people."
Who is he kidding? Adora shook her head. They had not even seen the flight of Lancers that had zipped over their heads just moments before they reached the fleet which they were now circling back towards. Had it been a real combat situation, it was very likely that most of them would have been dead by now, without even knowing what hit them.
"Where did all these ships come from, sir?" That was Candice who asked.
"It's the Mars Peacekeeping Fleet." Ishigawa replied flatly as he led his squadron to catch up with the relatively ponderous warships. "Or at least what's left of it." The lieutenant added sourly.
"Gosh, I've never seen so many ships!" Candice gasped. "Hey, Dora. Check it out! Some of them even have decorations put up!"
Adora noticed this as they flew alongside the fleet now, affording them a better view of the ships that made up the fleet. Several of them had holographic decorations adorning their hulls while most were ablaze with their navigation and running lights.
And then she saw it. The first signs of damage. One of the Javelin-class missile destroyers was missing a quarter of its bow, while a nearby Alexander-class destroyer had its entire centrifuge section destroyed. Other ships were showing varying levels of battle damage, much of it hastily patched up in order to maintain the ships' spaceworthiness.
"Isn't that the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" Candice was still jubilant, apparently not noticing the battle scars on the ships.
"I wouldn't be cheering so much if I were you, Candice." Adora said grimly as she flew past the Vigilant, observing her gutted flight bays. She paused as she took a moment to absorb the severity of the damage. There was no way that those bays had been empty when they were hit and it was obvious that they had been catastrophically breached by enemy fire. "There are coffins on many of those ships."
1434 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
President Itangre watched the warships passing silently in review before her eyes, like a silently mournful procession of whales. Despite the somewhat tragic situation that several of those ships found themselves in, Intangre was still smiling.
We may not have won this round, she told herself as she caught sight of the first battle-damaged ship in the formation in front of her. But we didn't lose either. Now, a large portion of the JAF had been blooded in combat, against the Solar System's only other superpower to boot. And against superior numbers and an enemy that was closer to home than her fleet was, the Jovians had given a good account of themselves. The enemy's weight in numbers were the prime cause of the Jovian force taking relatively heavy casualties as opposed to the Battle of Elysée.
But then, compared to what the media had been calling the Battle of Kurtzenheim for the past few months, even an attack on the Jovian capital (Battle of Elysée) paled into insignificance. The one great battle over Mars had been the grandest space battle ever witnessed by humanity.
And the Jovians had been part of it. Itangre felt her chest swelling with pride at that thought. Her brothers and sisters, her fellow countrymen, her brethren had been part of this great battle which was only the precursor to greater things to come.
With the return of the Peacekeeping Force, the Jovian president knew that they were entering a new phase. She had been reluctant to make any may troop commitments outside of Confederation space following the battle around Mars. A significant portion of the Confederation's naval strength was included in the peacekeeping force and she was unwilling to undertake any major military operations without an ample reserve of ships. With the vessels of the Peacekeeping Force now safely back in her fold, she could pursue a more aggressive policy past the Belt and into the Inner Solar System. For far too long, she had been enduring the torrent of questions and criticism from the media people and the Agora, calling for more decisive action against the imperialists from Earth.
She thought about the events of the past few months now. In the confused aftermath of the Battle of Kurtzenheim, she had survived an assassination attempt, a betrayal by a senior JIS staff and a conspiracy that had succeeded in pushing the Confederation and the CEGA to war with one another.
The group behind the whole conspiracy had been known as the Principii, consisting mainly of JAF personnel though several prominent civilians and supposedly upright Confederation citizens had been part of the plot. Led by the late Karl Lotjoenen, a former JAF officer and a close associate of General Avram Thorsen.
Thorsen had been a close associate (some went as far to call him 'lover') of Itangre before the Battle of Elysée, after which she had to remove him from command of Gamma Division for allowing the CEGA fleet to get so close to the capital She and Thorsen had been rumored to be lovers but the events following the Battle of Elysée had forced her to distance herself from him. Like now, she could ill-afford any political baggage then.
Apparently, Lotjonen and his 'Principii' were all ultra-nationalists who believed that the threat from Earth was to great to ignore and that the only way to eliminate this threat was to bring both superpowers to war where it was believed that the Jovians, with their superior technology would defeat the Earthers easily. In summary, Lotjonen was simply thinking the way Itangre was, though he was willing to take far more drastic action in bringing about a war than the President ever was.
Now, the Jovian Confederation and the CEGA were at war with each other. Itangre would have thanked Lotjoenen for giving her the perfect excuse to realize her dreams were it not for the fact that he was already dead and viewed by the general public as a traitor. Itangre though about those dreams again. Dreams that included the elimination of Earth as a threat to the Confederation's expansion and the subsequent absorption of humanity's homeworld into the Confederation.
Lotjoenen and his Pricipii had been wrong about one thing though. The CEGA had proven to be a tougher nut to crack than expected and the JAF had encountered several nasty CEGA surprises during the Battle of Kurtzenheim.
The threat reassessments that her senior staff from the JAF and JIS had painted a picture that was significantly bleaker than she had anticipated. The Confederation could expect to win a war against the CEGA in the long run, but it was certainly going to cost the Jovians dear. Itangre pushed that thought out of her mind. Her people had returned and that was what was really important for now.
The parade of ships was still moving past her, aglitter with lights and fireworks. Many of these ships would be needing repairs, but their crews were veterans now. And she knew that fresh ships were being held back in the Confederation, many with incomplete crews, most waiting for the next batch of trainees to complete their training. Trainees who had signed up in the patriotic fervor that followed Kurtzenheim. Many of these ships would do well to have the experience of Kurtzenheim veterans.
She had inspected some of these new ships herself, including vessels that would certainly have turned the tide had they been in orbit around Mars. Joining the fleet in the time that the Peacekeeping Force had been away were the first of the stupendous Ypres-class battleships and the marvelous Majestic-class supercarriers had come online.
While the Ypres could easily blow away almost any opponent with its first salvo, the Majestics could carry up to forty-eight exo armors or interceptors, which was four to eight times what current carriers in the fleet were capable of.
The road ahead will be hard, Itangre told herself as she stared at the ships before her. But we've got the tools and the people to win this war.
She could see one of the brand new Majesticscruising up to meet the returning fleet now, her retinue of nearly fifty exo-armors hovering protectively around their mothership. Alexandra Itangre smiled at that sight.
And we shall win.
1502 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
"There they are!" John's voice crowed in Breanna's headset. Even from such a great distance, they could see the tiny flecks of white that were the ships of the returning Peacekeeping Fleet. Larger flecks, the colony cylinders of Olympus, framed the fleet, set against the background of Ganymede which itself was set against the backdrop of Father Jupiter, whose angry Red Spot continue to stare at them like some gigantic bloodshot eye.
Even with the use of magnification aids, one could observe the Jovian fleet rather clearly. The incessant bursts of fireworks were a definite reference point for the casual observer. Breanna called up her optical magnifier and a pop-up window appeared on her HUD, allowing her to view the returning ships in greater detail. She gasped at the sight of so many of them.
"I've never seen so many ships before." John was gasping as well. "Have you?"
Breanna rotated her Pathfinder Alpha's head to face John's exo armor. It was a very human gesture that wasn't entirely necessary with the bevy of sensors mounted aboard a Pathfinder. "Nope." Breanna replied simply, human eyes still transfixed on the fleet. They were under orders to remain at their patrol station around Yin-Wang. Apparently their squadron was going to play no part in the homecoming festivities. That had left John somewhat crestfallen since he had really wanted to see those ships up close.
"Bre, I was thinking about this last night." John began as they continued their leisurely patrol route around the forty-kilometer-long colony they had been assigned to defend.
"You? Think?" Breanna scoffed over the radio. "Now that alone is something."
"Come on now, Bre." John replied petulantly. "Seriously . . ."
"Ok, ok. I'll humor you for a moment, my boy." Breanna feigned reluctance. "Beats flying around in silence."
"That's just it, Bre. That's all we do." John said excitedly, as if his wingman had stumbled of the greatest truth in the universe. "We just fly around this damn colony all day! And that's when we're not sitting around waiting for our 'joyrides' in space."
"Gee . . ." Breanna cooed sarcastically. "Took you rather long to realize that, Johnny-boy."
"I'm being serious, Bre!" John retorted peevishly. "This is not what I enlisted in the JAF to do."
"Well, I've got news for you then, boy. I didn't sign up to play security guard either. But I did sign up to fly exos." The female exo pilot answered. "And besides, didn't you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"We are here to safeguard our citizens and protect industries vital to the war effort. Our vigilance each day ensures the Confederation's survival for another day." Breanna said, mimicking their squadron commander. That elicited a chuckle from John.
"Well, I guess that's one way to look at it." John was stifling his laughter now. "But really, Bre. I think I've had it. I want out."
"What?" Try as she might, Breanna couldn't hide the surprise in her tone. "The JAF?"
"No, no, no." The other exo pilot was shaking his head vigorously. "Of course not. I'm not crazy. Besides, I love this job."
"Then just what do you mean?"
Breanna was watching her wingman's exo now and she saw the Pathfinder Alpha's head rotating to face the Peacekeeping Fleet that glittered in the distance. Despite it being a machine, Breanna was almost sure the Pathfinder looked wistful, mirroring the emotions of the human operator inside.
"This sucks. I want to be in a real combat unit." John exhaled. "Or at least in a fleet unit. Flying off a carrier instead of some lousy colony cylinder."
"Oh, that's just great . . ." Breanna groaned. "What are you going to do? Put in for a transfer?"
"Yeah, why not?" John asked, unable to understand why Breanna wasn't agreeing with him. "There's nothing wrong with that now, is there?"
"We've been aboard Yin-Wang for exactly four months. And the squadron is barely up to full strength." Breanna pointed out in a tone that one normally reserved for explaining things to a child. "You think the CO is just going to let us waltz out of here and join a fleet unit? John, I'm pretty sure he's just as eager for a fleet assignment as we are. What makes you think he's going to go along with a transfer?"
"Because he knows exactly how we feel," was John's answer. "I mean, we've proven that we're pretty good pilots and our talents are simply going to waste. If he's dreaming of a fleet assignment himself, then all the better. He'll understand our plight better."
Breanna remained silent for a moment, unsure as to whether John was being crazy or just incredibly dumb. In the end, she opted for the former. "You're nuts, John. The CO would never go along with a transfer."
"No harm trying, Bre. Come on . . ." John pleaded. "With your looks and my brains, I'm sure we can convince the CO to let us go."
"Oh, alright . . ." Breanna finally relented. "We'll give it a try . . . after I clobber you for what you just said."
"Thanks." Then John added somewhat slyly. "And if the Skipper isn't willing to empathize with our plight, we'll just have to give him a reason to be rid of us . . ."
1646 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
There had been crowds . . . cheering them. Warrant Officer (O) Adelene Chan couldn't quite understand it. She had expected the homecoming to be met with relief, and granted, some celebration.
Already she had thought it ludicrous that the crew of her ship had put up makeshift decorations, holdovers from the Inception Day around Mars where the war had first started. Some of the lights ringing the flight bays had been fused into place when CEGA exo armors came and shot up the Vigilant.
It had been a strange sight, Adelene recalled now. Four months ago, the ships of the Jovian Peacekeeping Force had looked similar, with decorations adorning their hulls and running lights sparkling against the inky backdrop of space.
But back then there had been Martian and Earther exos and fighters slashing through the space between the ships. Right now, the once-pristine lines of many ships had been marred by battle damage. Other than that the two scenes were quite similar.
As the regimental formations of the returning fleet passed the first outposts of Jovian civilization in Olympus, they had been greeted by waves interceptors and exo armors. The returning fleet had scrambled their own craft and put them on parade as they finally passed Joshua's Station in review.
Adelene had missed out on that since her fighter had been left in a decaying orbit around Mars after it had run out of fuel. She had been rescued by a squad of Marines in their Falconer suits. But her damaged had fighter had to be left behind since Vigilant's bay space, limited by fresh battle damage had only left room for the more expensive exos.
Despite the seemingly needless preparations aboard the Vigilant and the pep talks by the captain regarding their conduct upon their return to the Confederation, nothing had prepared Adelene for the fete that had met them on their arrival.
Thousands of fireworks had been fired to herald their return to Jovian space and hundreds of ships, civilian and military, had added to the millions on the colony cylinders who cheered their return.
As one of the prized Valiant-class vessels in the fleet, they had been granted priority to dock at Khannan Base where they had disembarked to the grandest carnival she had ever seen. Khannan City was home to some 4.1 million people, both JAF and otherwise and it had seemed as if they had all gathered to welcome them home.
The noise in the pressurized work bay had been deafening and she had been shocked to see the screaming throngs waving wildly in her direction as she stepped off her ship, duffel bag balanced precariously on her shoulder. There were banners everywhere and confetti snowed down on her ceaselessly as she tried to make her way through the crowd of civilians who were barely held in check by JAF security personnel.
It's almost like being idolized . . . Adelene thought as she squeezed her way through the people gathered in the work bay. Some were asking her for a speech, while other wanted her autograph. Having just returned from one of her longer and by far the most fatiguing of deployments, Adelene was in no shape to fend off the adoring throng of packed humanity reaching out just to touch her and the other disembarking crew of the Vigilant.
She supposed that on a normal day, she'd be basking in the newfound fame and popularity. But today was no normal day. Today was the day she could finally step off the ship she had been deployed aboard for the better part of her year and finally let her guard down. It was a feeling that she didn't need to share with ten thousand screaming well-wishers.
The weight on her shoulder began to hurt and the crowd around her was suffocating. Suddenly she found that there was no way through. She had become separated from the rest of her squadronmates and a sea of faces were swirling around her. People were shouting, almost chanting, but despite the sheer volume of sound bombarding her, she could not make out a single word that was being said.
For a brief terrifying moment, Adelene thought she was going to be pulped in that crush of human flesh. She felt the air around her going stale. There was a distinct ringing in her ears, sounding above the barrage of noise. She wondered why the word kept swimming around her and staggered as the deck below tilted left, then to the right.
One of the JAF security personnel closest to her shot her a concerned look and got his colleague to hold the crowd back while he reached out to Adelene. She felt his hand grip her arm and saw his mouth move but heard nothing.
Then the world revolved one final time before Warrant Officer (O) Adelene Chan sank beneath the mob, her duffel bag hitting the deck a moment before her unconscious form.
1710 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
The sound of the engines had died down minutes ago and most of the ship's systems had been shut down as she stood down upon successful docking with Khannan Base. The silence aboard the JSS Facilitator was discomforting considering how the familiar throb of reactors and machinery had constantly reverberated along her entire frame for nearly nine months.
Captain Alvin Ng sat quietly and alone in his quarters, the silence making the cabin feel very much like a tomb. In fact such a description would have been apt for he was a commander without a squadron; the sole survivor of the Deathwings; confined to quarters pending investigation for his actions during what was now known as The Battle of Kurtzenheim.
In the four months following that cataclysmic battle, he had spent half of that time in Sick Bay, recovering from the injuries he had sustained in the last-second ejection from his doomed exo-armor. Post-battle analysis had shown that the destruction of his exo had somehow triggered his ejection pod though the force of the blast had ripped it open as well. It was fortunate that his flight suit had not been shredded in the unconventional egress from his war machine and that suit had kept him alive long enough to be found.
Nevertheless, he had spent two months in the Facilitator's Sick Bay, recovering from back and leg injuries that had been inflicted on him as he was hurled into space. Upon recovery, he had spent nearly a month painstakingly writing his report and analysis of the Battle. Infinitely more painful had been the process of writing the letters of condolences to the families of each one of the eleven pilots in his squadron that had been killed in action.
He had spent many of those seemingly endless days in his quarters, away from the crew. He had felt like an outsider after his release from Sick Bay, realizing that many of the men and women he was once familiar with had begun to avert his eyes in the passageways aboard the Facilitator. As the only exo pilot left on the carrier, it had been a depressingly solitary existence that he led aboard.
And so when the order came through about three weeks ago, confining him to quarters pending an investigation for his actions which ended off in the decimation of the Deathwings in the space above Mars, not much had actually changed apart from the fact that his exile from the rest of the carrier's crew was now official.
There was a chime at the door and he stared at the hatch in mild surprise. Was it time already? He glanced at his kit bag resting next to the doorway. His lockers were all open now, revealing their stripped-bare interiors. "Enter," he said quietly.
The hatch cracked open to reveal one of the ship's security personnel, MP armband worn prominently around his right sleeve. Corporal Jerel Tan was a good man whom Alvin was rather familiar with in his time aboard the Facilitator. It was clear that Jerel didn't relish what he was doing now. He was certainly more at ease breaking up minor arguments in the mess hall than placing a squadron commander under arrest. "Sir, it's time."
Alvin nodded as he rose from his bunk bed, glancing at his lockers one more time to make sure he had not forgotten anything.
"Sir, you know how it is . . . " The corporal couldn't complete his sentence as he watched the captain nervously and warily at the same time.
Again, Alvin nodded wordlessly and this time he turned around to present his wrists to the security specialist. He saw the man hesitate slightly before he reached into the pouch on his utility belt to retrieve a set of handcuffs.
"I'm really sorry, sir." The junior man said as he took a cautious, hesitant step forward. It was apparent that the young man was wishing he was somewhere very far away from the Facilitator at the moment.
Alvin did the other man a favor by keeping his head forward and his eyes locked on an imaginary point on the ceiling.
"So am I, Jerel." Alvin said softly, looking away. "So am I."
And the handcuffs clicked as they snapped shut around his wrists.
1756 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
"Docking complete, Captain." The helmsman said, fatigued-lined face looking over at Captain Andy Ho, youthful eyes seeking approval. But there was something more besides youth in those eyes. The fire had died somewhat, and there were fresh lines at the edges of those bloodshot eyes. It was the touch of hardness that combat experience lends to a human mind, shattering whatever innocence that had once existed there.
"Good work." Ho nodded wearily, then turned to his Executive Officer. "XO, power down the ship and set Port Watch."
"Aye, sir." The XO said crisply despite the fatigue and began to relay the message to the rest of the crew, personally overseeing the final operations as the ship prepared to shut down completely.
Captain Andy Ho collapsed into his plush command chair and let out a tired sigh. Above and around him, the visual displays on the dome shaped bridge interior were blanking out one by one. Already, the sound of the ship's fusion drives were dying down as Engineering received the orders to shut down. He let his eyes close and sighed once more, feeling something more than energy draining from his body.
He had no idea how long he had been out. But he woke to a gentle tugging against his sleeve. When he opened his eyes, he noted that the dome overhead had gone completely dark and the bridge was now lit by conventional light tubes in the 'floor' and the work consoles laid out before each member of the bridge crew.
He traced the hand on his sleeve and realized it was the XO. "Yeah . . . I'm up." The captain blinked and rubbed his gritty eyes. "What's up?"
"Sir, the ship is at Port Watch."
"Very well, have the crew disembark by watches." Andy nodded groggily, then noticed the XO was still watching him. "Is there something else?"
"There's a Captain Joe Hegashi requesting permission to come aboard." Andy frowned and squinted at his XO who then queried, "You don't know him?"
"No. Should I?"
"Well, he's requesting to meet with you." The XO explained. "He says it's urgent."
"Very well, have someone bring him up to the bridge then." Ho said and the XO saw to it immediately.
Despite the fact that many of the ship's systems had been shut down, there was still the babble of voices in the bridge as the various bridge officers saw to their respective departments. Once the ship was fully secured, the crew would begin to disembark in waves, leaving a skeleton crew aboard to brief the incoming repair and maintenance crews before taking their leave as well.
Maybe Hegashi was the officer detailed to head up the repair teams that would see to the damage that Facilitator had suffered at the hands of the CEGA, Andy mused. It was not unknown for chief yard officers to converse directly with the commanding officer of their charges before setting about their repair work. Facilitator had taken several nasty hits and Andy was sure she was going to be laid up for months. He wondered briefly if he was going to be asked to undocked so that ships with lesser damage could be repaired and sent to rejoin the fray more quickly.
There wasn't much more time to consider that possibility as the armored doors to the bridge slid open to reveal a portly, bullet-head man who wore what was left of his hair in a black ring around his head. The microgravity on the bridge allowed the man to move his bulk more easily than he should have been able to.
"Captain Hegashi?" Andy turned fully to face the visitor. Despite the other man's physical appearance, the service ribbons on the uniform tunic did show that Hegashi was not a yard officer. Or at least the majority of his career hadn't been spent languishing on space stations.
"Captain Ho." The visitor brought his hand up in a sharp salute. "Captain Joe Hegashi, Gamma Division HQ."
It took Andy a moment to realize what was going on before he returned the salute. Regardless of rank, the commander of a ship was always the senior person on board until formalities were exchanged and protocols redrawn.
"This is a fine ship you have here." Hegashi said approvingly.
Andy resisted the urge to frown, unsure as to whether Hegashi was being serious or merely being polite. Finally he said, "Well, that she certainly is. She's a little shot up, but she brought us home." Andy saw the other captain nod in agreement. "What brings you aboard the Facilitator, Captain Hegashi?"
"Orders." Hegashi slipped his hand inside his uniform tunic and retrieved a thin message sheet bearing the official stationary of Gamma Division Headquarters. "Yours and mine."
"I see." Andy said noncommittally as he accepted the message sheet. He glanced to the bottom and noted that it had been signed by General Konrad Koudriopoulos, GamDivCom himself. He eyes widened slightly at that and then widened even more as he read the orders.
"You getting a promotion, sir?" Andy's XO asked hopefully, coming to stand by his skipper's side. "Or a commendation, perhaps?"
"No." Andy said simply as he folded the plastic sheet. "I've been relieved of command."
"What?" The XO paled and grew wide-eyed. "But why . . . where . . .?"
"Captain Hegashi will be your commanding officer now." Andy spoke through a clenched jaw. He exchanged glances with the other captain and saw that there was no trace of smugness or satisfaction in the man's eyes.
"Sir, what about you?" The XO was alternating glances between the two men, gaping like a fish out of water.
"I'm to report to GamDiv HQ for reassignment." Andy said evenly to his XO, then looked over to Hegashi. "Captain Hegashi, I stand relieved."
"I relieve you, Captain." Hegashi replied formally.
Andy nodded curtly and then saluted his replacement. "May I have your permission to clear my personal effects from your quarters?"
Hegashi snapped off a return salute. "Very well. You may take whomever you require to assist you, captain."
"Thank you. You are most kind." Andy replied flatly before stepping past Hegashi to head for the double doors that led out of the bridge.
"Oh, and Captain Ho . . ." The outgoing CO of the Facilitator stopped short of the airlock and turned around. "For what it's worth, Captain Ho, I wish you the best of luck."
Andy paused for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. Then the lanky man gave a curt nod and tight grin. "And for what it's worth, Captain Hegashi, I wish you the same too."
And then Captain Andy Ho stepped out the airlock and off the bridge of the Facilitator.
2147 HOURS – 30 DECEMBER, 2213
"Well, now that we've powered down, they should be coming to get you soon." Joshua Loke said to the man who stood behind the bars.
"I suppose I should thank you." HauptmannPeter Tan smiled from within the holding cell in the JSS Flame's brig. "I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for you."
"I'm sorry they put you in this cell." Joshua replied, making sure he was out of earshot from the watchful guard at his duty station. "It's just not right for an officer. For anyone who's done what you've done."
"It's certainly more comfortable than the facilities my former comrades would allocate to you were our situations reversed." Peter remarked wryly.
Before Joshua could muster a reply to that, the hatch to the brig opened to reveal the Flame's security chief. With him was a woman in civilian clothing. Neither her delicate, china-white features nor the depthless stare in her large round eyes revealed any of her emotions. In fact, Joshua found himself shifting uncomfortably at the way her gaze shifted from him and then to Peter.
"Is this the detainee?" The woman turned to asked the security chief in an icy tone which made it seemed as if she regarded to the BundesArmeedefector as nothing more than a piece of meat.
"Yes, ma'am. That's him." The security chief answered blandly.
"Very well." The woman said airily. "Secure him and have him brought to my shuttle."
"As you wish." The security chief motioned to the guard who fetched a set of heavy-duty restraints from his station, along with a stun baton.
And then the woman cast her gaze on the two men who stood, separated by the bars. She almost seemed to be satisfied with the whole situation but Joshua thought it was probably the light paying tricks on that emotionless face.
"I guess this is it." Joshua said to Peter as the security personnel came for him.
"Thanks again, Joshua. Really."
"You're welcome." The Jovian exo-pilot said dubiously, feeling the civilian's eyes on him. "They won't keep you for long, I'm sure."
"I'll write you when I get out. I promise." Peter grinned weakly.
"Saying your goodbyes already?" That smooth, frosty voice made Joshua cringe and he turned to see the civilian woman standing next to him. The guards were unlocking the cell now.
"Uh . . ."
"Corporal Joshua Loke?" She asked while the Martian Hauptmann was being cuffed by the two security men.
"Yes. Um, that's me, ma'am." The exo-pilot stammered.
"Ma'am, your prisoner." The security chief said, bringing the restrained Peter next to her. He showed no signs of resistance and the security chief handed the key for the cuffs to the woman.
"Take him to my shuttle." She told the security chief then turned to fix Joshua with a soul-freezing stare. "And this one too."
"What?" Joshua felt his jaw fall open despite his best efforts to fight the urge. "Whatever for? And just who do you think you are anyway?"
"Me?" The woman laughed. It was a sound that made Joshua want to shrink away into the nearest bulkhead. "I'm Special Agent Lois Goh, Jovian Intelligence Service. Which division I belong to is none of your concern. And I'll be asking the questions from here on. Especially the ones pertaining to fraternizing with an enemy in a time of war."
Joshua was still gasping wordlessly when he felt his wrists being pulled back roughly. His first instinct was to resist, wriggling against that vice-like grip.
"Don't even think about it," the security chief hissed into his ear a moment before the cuffs clamped around his wrists. Joshua made one last effort at resisting and was rewarded by a sudden stab or body-encompassing pain followed by numbness as a charged stun baton struck him in the small of his back, plunging him into a world of darkness.