VI
Apocalypse Rising
The Tonga Trench, 30 Kilometers south of the Tokelau Islands. The South Pacific. UEO Atlantis ASV 8100. November 17th, 2040…
In a space of only 3 days, so much had changed. On the morning of November 14th, the UEO had reciprocated to Bourne's political rhetoric by declaring war on Macronesia. Huge build-ups of military forces were taking place on every border across the Pacific and the UEO was only just in the stages of planning a counter-strike for the Alliance's savage missile attack on the bay of San Francisco. The demilitarized zone that had separated the two powers for the better part of a decade had exploded in to violence, with many sub surface colonies being subject to massive blockades and all out assaults from both sides. It was make or break, but so far, the opening salvos had been indecisive for either side.
Commander James Banick was exhausted. Constant 2-hour battle drills every 12 hours had left the crew's morale at an all time low, and what bothered Banick the most was that Captain Randbrough didn't seem to care. Atlantis had been on patrol for 3 days with the Aquarius less than 100 kilometres away. That was something else that bothered Banick, why did UEO Command send the 2 most powerful vessels ever created to the same location? The fleet was stretched thin, and putting the heaviest firepower in one area of the ocean was a clear message to the Alliance of where not to strike. And that was not what the big ASVs were built for.
Sitting to the Captain's right on the bridge, Banick busied himself with his control console. In his position as XO, there wasn't much more he could do than simply run checks of each different system, and occasionally relay the Captain's orders to the appropriate bridge staff. The bridge was surprisingly quiet, even if it was busy with officers moving from station to station, checking different systems and performing their regular duties. Captain Randbrough seemed to like it that way. All work, no nonsense, and little chance of things going wrong. While it provided a nearly flawless system of command, it also meant extremely dull duties; the crew would easily grow weary, and that caused mistakes. Randbrough was pressing the crew beyond all rational limits, and he should have known better. Banick looked up when the Lieutenant Jack Phillips looked to the Captain with tired eyes. "Sir, we have incoming flash-traffic from fleet command in Pearl; Orders, sir."
Captain Randbrough got up from his chair and headed to the communications station. After a few minutes of quietly interrogating Phillips and analysing the message he turned around again and headed for the exit. "All senior officers, report to the briefing room on the double"
Banick shook his head with dismay and exchanged a look with Canebride at the helm as they headed for the briefing room in Randbrough's wake. In his haste, the Captain hadn't left anyone in charge of the deck. Banick knew that Randbrough probably expected him to do it, and it was just as well, because Banick didn't trust the Captain as far as he could spit. "Mister Lang," he said, looking to a junior-grade Lieutenant stationed at Ops. "You have the Conn."
"Aye sir."
'…Total hard ass'; they were the only words the Atlantis XO could think of to describe the Captain as he walked in to the briefing room to see that Randbrough was already seated at the table and pulling up several sets of orders on to the briefing room's main screen. "Be seated," he said as the officers walked in. "We have new orders from command. We've been called north, to the Phoenix Islands. Section Seven believes that the Alliance is building up a force to possibly launch raids on Pearl Harbor in that area. We are to move in, and quite simply clear out any and all Alliance forces that may be in that region."
"With the Aquarius, I assume?" asked Banick innocently enough, but still harbouring reservation.
Randbrough's response was snide, it was perfectly obvious to Banick that the Captain didn't like him, and Randbrough wasn't afraid to show it. "No… Aquarius has other orders. The mission is straight forward enough that we shouldn't need Captain Hornsby's help. We will simply do a quick run around the block, flush out whatever strike units we find, and then report to UEO Command once we are finished."
"I see…" said Banick quietly. The amount of flaws in that plan were so blindingly obvious that he didn't even know where to start, and with Randbrough just itching to breathe fire down his back, he wasn't sure he wanted to.
"Is there a problem with that arrangement, Commander?"
"Are you asking my opinion, sir?" inquired Banick cautiously.
"Speak your mind, Commander… It's never stopped you in the past."
"Fine," said Banick, matching the Captain's cold and cynical tone. "Put simply; it's a bad idea. You don't put together a strike force with the intent of hitting Pearl Harbor and not including some serious firepower. It's common sense; if we do happen to find Macronesian forces in the Phoenix islands, we will be so massively outgunned that it will leave the UEO wondering not only wondering what happened to the seaQuest, but also what happened to us."
"Commander, the key word in my sentence was that these were orders. As such, they are not open to interpretation. I'm not paid to question orders; if I were, I would have joined fleet intelligence."
'…Which is something you lack anyway…' thought Banick quietly to himself. "Where did these orders come from, sir?"
"The Secretary General himself," said Randbrough as-a-matter-of-factly.
"At the recommendation of Section Seven," clarified Banick with scepticism. "Sir, The Secretary General is a civilian. Granted, he was an Admiral in the fleet once, but it's not his place to be giving orders to us."
"What's your point, Commander?"
"I'm simply asking why these orders were not sent through the appropriate channels, sir."
Randbrough stopped. A glimmer of nervous hesitation disturbed his eyes. What wasn't he telling them? "That's not your concern, Commander," he said finally. "Nor is it mine. I verified the orders myself. If there are any problems, you are welcome to take it up with the Secretary General yourself."
Banick knew that something was very wrong. Everything Captain Ainsley had warned him of, ominously, seemed to have some sort of substantiation behind it… Time would tell just how deep this ran, and Banick only hoped that Ainsley had been prepared for this. Callaghan – who looked a little more 'innocent' without his beard – noticed Banick's apprehension and did what he could to ease the tension. "Sir, what kinds of forces does intelligence expect us to find in the area?"
Captain Randbrough also looked somewhat relieved that he didn't have to deal with Banick's questions any longer. "Intelligence is conjectural at best, but Section Seven has reason to believe that there are at least 4 squadrons of attack boats operating in the area… Orion and Cepheus classes inclusive."
"No cruiser forces?"
"There is no reason to suggest it, no. If we encountered Dragnas let alone Tempests, they'd be surprised."
Only attack submarines?" remarked Callaghan with mild surprise. "I would have thought the Alliance would have at least a couple of sub-carriers in there. How do they expect to be able to operate without fighter support?"
The Captain did not dull his gaze, the man was a machine. Banick didn't think there was a single waking moment where Randbrough wasn't completely aware of what was happening aboard the Atlantis. "Section Seven believes that the Alliance would not risk exposing their carriers this early in to hostilities. And the Alliance knows the Atlantis is operating in these waters, and likely considers it too risky. They now know what this submarine is capable of, and will not make the same mistake twice."
Banick nearly choked when he heard that. Was Randbrough really that incompetent? "…Captain, with all due respect, that's exactly what the Alliance would be doing without carriers. The last time we came to blows with their SSNs, we sent them to the bottom without any problems. With the entire Pacific open the way it is, why wouldn't Macronesia deploy their carriers? It's what they are there for!"
Randbrough was quickly growing impatient with Banick's questioning of every decision that was made. For Randbrough, this could have been a major problem in the longer term. "Commander Banick... I am growing increasingly tired of having to explain every order that I give. This is called a briefing. Do you see these?" Randbrough pointed to the small gold insignia on his uniform collar framed by the gold wreath and trident of the UEO and then continued. "I have more of these than you do. That means that when I give you an order, you carry it out. It does not mean you are supposed to question the order to the point of frustration! Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Banick almost laughed at Randbrough's ignorance, but thought the better of it. "If the orders made sense, sir, I wouldn't need to question them."
"The orders don't have to make sense!" said the Captain angrily. "If we were in the middle of battle and I gave an order… would you start questioning that order for the sake of your own understanding?"
"No sir," replied Banick, failing to see what a battle situation had to do the briefing at that moment, but not needing the headache of an extended lecture. Randbrough was an idiot, and sooner or later he would be dealt with. But now was not the time.
"Of course you wouldn't! Now… have I made myself clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good." Randbrough stopped as he gathered his papers, and reset the briefing room's computer terminal and the holographic map that hung above it. "We're done," he said finally. "Commander Canebride… lay in a course for the Phoenix islands at best possible speed. Keep to the Hemmingway trench if you can. I'd like to avoid any unnecessary surprises."
Canebride cast a wary gaze over Banick, and then looked the Captain in the eyes. Randbrough was taken aback by her gaze; her eyes were cold and dark. And there was something there that he couldn't make out – a conflict, unresolved, but still raging in the fires of her mind. "Yes sir."
"Dismissed."
Captain Arnold Randbrough sat quietly in his quarters reviewing the day's reports and various files. One of these items was the personnel file of Commander James Banick, and it was that which he had been paying the most attention to. Holding the file open in his hand, he was beginning to realise that Banick was easily one of the most intriguing officers aboard. What concerned him the most was that Banick didn't appear to understand the meaning of 'chain of command', and frequently took matters in to his own hands with little or no regard for orders. And that made him a very dangerous man. Randbrough didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him across the brig, and he felt sure that Banick would probably feel the same way about him. If Banick knew what was actually going on however…
…The Captain pushed the thought aside. What Banick alone suspected was not an issue at that point in time. The bigger problem, suspected Randbrough, was that there was a lot more happening amongst the crew's ranks than he was aware. If there was something happening, then Banick would almost certainly be at the head of the snake.
Several other personnel files were also littered around the desk including Natalie Canebride, Madeline Hayes, Ryan Callaghan and Edward Stevens. If Banick was orchestrating something, then he'd likely have help. Randbrough had all but ruled out Hayes and Stevens… But Canebride and Callaghan represented wild cards. Callaghan's file was strangely incomplete; on purpose. When he'd tried to request the missing file information from UEO Command, he'd been flatly rebuked.
Then there was Canebride. Her file was spotless; she was the model officer. Her psychological profile made her out to be one of the toughest people in the crew, although her personality might suggest otherwise. What grabbed Randbrough's attention was that Canebride was close to Banick… very close. He wouldn't at all have been surprised if the two officers were romantically involved; this made Canebride just as much of a liability as Banick.
Turning the page in Banick's file, he came to his well-documented list of achievements and decorations. The list was lengthy to say the least. No less than 6 citations for courage under fire, 2 meritous service medals, nearly a dozen campaign medals, and the Navy Cross. "So, Commander," mused Randbrough quietly. "A bit of a hero are we?"
Randbrough's orders were simple, and very explicit. No one on the Atlantis could be allowed to interfere with his mission. If that meant throwing an officer in the brig, then so be it.
There had to be something in the commander's file that could be useful. Unfortunately for him, the Atlantis's previous Captain – Mark Ainsley - had written highly of Commander James Banick, and any superior officer's comments that took note of "initiative" or "excellence" were not taken lightly in boards of review. Such popularity made friends in high places, very easily.
Next, was Banick's disciplinary file and Randbrough eagerly skipped ahead to read whatever information it had. Turning the page, the Captain was stunned to find… nothing.
Not a single letter of discipline marked the Commander's file. It was spotless… too spotless. Checking the scattered files to make sure nothing was missing; Randbrough could only stare in stunned silence at the empty void that was Banick's disciplinary record. The only thing in the folder pertaining to any misdemeanours outlined a brief scuffle during Banick's academy days for which he'd been given 3 days in the brig.
If that was the best Randbrough could come up with, then it looked like Banick would be sticking around. Closing the file in frustration, the Captain got up from the office chair and headed toward the small kitchen in the main living area. Opening the cupboard, he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Pouring the amber liquid in to a glass, he sighed. He would have to watch Banick very carefully.
Randbrough was lost at sea with no where to turn… except one man. Taking his drink back to the study, he sat down, and logged on to his computer terminal. He brought up the Atlantis's secure communications system, and quickly input a command that took him straight to the top; the one person who was in charge, and the one person who knew exactly what to do.
Arthur Dallinsley.
"Captain? What's wrong?" asked the confused face of the UEO Secretary General on the computer screen.
"Atlantis will be at Phoenix in just under 24 hours," replied Randbrough simply; cutting straight to the point.
Dallinsley smiled slightly. He was pleased by this news. "Good. I've spoken to your…counterpart. And he assures me that everything is in place. When you arrive, he will escort you to safety. Atlantis's disappearance will be officially filed as sabotage."
Randbrough nodded. "Good. What about San Francisco?"
"-Completely destroyed," confirmed Dallinsley, shaking his head.
"And the Odyssey?"
"Survived," answered the Secretary General with a hint of hesitation. "Provided you complete your mission however… then the Odyssey will no longer be an issue."
Captain Randbrough was not unaccustomed to vagueness, and the Secretary's assurance that everything was working out was enough to satisfy him. They'd come this far, so it didn't seem that much could go wrong… except for one detail that was left unanswered. "Sir, there is one last thing…"
"Yes?"
"I may have an issue… Commander Banick is beginning to represent a problem. He is asking too many questions. I don't know if I can keep this from him forever."
"I expected as much." The Secretary General didn't look surprised. He maintained a remarkably cool composure as he worked his jaw over the problem. "Banick has always been a wildcard when it comes to these situations; a small oversight, I'll admit. But without Ainsley to hold his leash, I think you'll find that Commander Banick is as blind as Bourne. Just the same… if he gets in the way, do anything you feel is necessary to maintain operational security, Captain."
"…Anything, sir?" repeated Randbrough with a mild degree of astonishment and morbid shock.
"Everyone is expendable, Captain. People can disappear. Keep that in mind."
"…Yes mister Secretary."
United Earth Oceans Headquarters. Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.
November 17th, 2040…
It was getting to be quite late in Hawaii. The bustling activity in the headquarters of the UEO was winding down for the day. Even the military had to sleep from time to time, and while the headquarters would not ever shut down completely as it maintained guard patrols and night watches in the military wings, the administrative duties of the big central command complex came to an end at six O'clock every evening. Civilian secretaries would go home to their families; politicians would be chauffeured from the building to the airport or their hotels; and the general staff of the military administration could finally take off their boots.
It had been a long day for Admiral Nathan Hale Bridger. His office was one of the most comfortable in the west wing of the headquarters, sitting high above Diamond Head on the 14th floor of Building A, right next to the harbour. Closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands, Bridger listened in silence to the gentle breeze as it whipped past the office, and smelt the sea breeze as it wafted through the open window. He found the sea to be soothing… relaxing. He doubted he could ever stand living in an in-land city. It would probably drive him crazy. But for some reason, the salt air had become stale in recent days. The grim clouds of war had come to hang over the Pacific Ocean, and they served as a reminder that even the unspoiled riches of the sea were susceptible to the Midas desires of the greedy.
Nathan Bridger had built the first seaQuest DSV nearly 40 years ago, and the second ship to bear the name not long after. He had designed it as if she were the holy grail of oceanography, but now the seaQuest was no more; stolen from the sea by those who wanted nothing more than power and wealth. Bridger had played an integral part in helping with the fundamental design of the Advanced Submergence Vehicles… but he hadn't really had much choice in the matter. The sea was his home... and it had to be defended one way or the other. In his eyes, the ASVs could never replace seaQuest. They were the products of a time where fear ruled the waves. seaQuest had been the product of uncertainty; a project which held glistening potential… but he had come to learn that there was a big difference between 'uncertainty' and 'fear'. One could bring hope… the other could destroy it.
No. Bridger would never see the ASVs in the same way as seaQuest. They were ships of war, and while technological marvels in their own right, they would never hold to the ideals that the UEO was supposed to represent. That was something only the seaQuest could do, and now… could do no more.
A part of Nathan Bridger had died that day.
A light rapping came from the door of his office, and he looked up to see a junior lieutenant – his aide – standing in the frame. "Excuse me, sir?" said the officer politely. He was holding a file in his hand.
"Working late, Nick?"
"Just until you leave, sir," replied the Aide honestly, with a wry smile. "I wouldn't be much of an assistant if I wasn't around when you needed me… You asked to know when the Atlantis received new orders, sir?"
Bridger raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd totally forgotten about that. Captain Ainsley had spoken with him several days earlier with concerns that seemed as incredible as they were grave. What the Captain had asked for had been incredibly hard to arrange, and for a time, Bridger had truly wondered if the man were insane. But, as his friend Captain Oliver Hudson had once said… Anyone who ignored their gut was never sane in the first place; and Bridger had no intention of ignoring the same, growing concerns that he himself had noticed about the Secretary General, Arthur Dallinsley. "Yes… That's right… You have news?"
"Yes sir," said the Lieutenant, stepping in the door and handing the Admiral the folder. "I just found this in Fleet Command's dispatches. It was sent earlier today… straight from the office of the Secretary General."
Bridger gritted his teeth as he read the contents of the folder. There was little doubt in his mind any more… something was going on. "Has Captain Randbrough acted on these orders?"
"Yes sir," said the Lieutenant. "Atlantis will be at the Phoenix Islands in less than 18 hours."
Bridger put the folder down and reached in to his desk drawer to pull out another file and handed it to the Lieutenant. "Alright… I want to you to send this to Captain Hornsby on the Aquarius immediately. Send it through my personal channels… I don't want this becoming open knowledge to the fleet just yet."
"Yes sir… And may I ask what this is all about?"
"I suggest you don't, Lieutenant," replied Bridger sternly. "…Unless you want to be court martialled for treason."
The Lieutenant's face went white with shock as he tried to work out just how serious the Admiral's comment was. Bridger's returning stare was enough to evoke a hasty salute, and the Lieutenant stammered a "Yes sir" before quickly leaving the office to do as Bridger had asked.
Yes… there had been an act of treason within the ranks of the United Earth Oceans organization. But Captain Mark Ainsley was not the one who should have been blamed.
The Tokelau Islands. The South Pacific. UEO Atlantis ASV 8100. November 17th, 2040…
…Swinging hard, James Banick brought his fists in to Captain Randbrough's stomach. At least, he liked to think it was Randbrough. The ship's gymnasium was empty, so he could make as much noise as he liked. Swinging again, he brought his fists around in a barrage of 1-2 combinations that made the punching bag swing wildly. Had it really been the Captain, he would have been out cold or in the infirmary… or possibly worse.
"Are you ok, Jim?"
Banick looked up from his merciless assault on the imaginary Captain and was a little surprised to see Lieutenant Commander Natalie Canebride only a few feet away, leaning against the wall, her arms folded in front of her. Steadying the bag, he pulled off the gloves he wore and smiled at her. "Oh… Natalie. I was just…umm…working out."
She smiled slyly and walked closer as Banick took off the sweat-covered undershirt and reached for the towel that Canebride was holding out towards him. "He can have that effect, can't he?"
Banick finished drying himself off quickly and chuckled. "Yes, he can. The Captain is turning out to be a royal pain in the ass. You've had this episode before haven't you?"
Canebride circled slowly with an almost cat-like stroll, and came to rest a hand on the wall. She wiped her long hair away from her face and shot Banick a daring smile. "Well, I don't remember laying in to a punching bag over the past few days like that… but it did take some getting used to."
Banick nodded as he did up the zip on his black uniform jumpsuit and straightened out the collar. He was not in the greatest of moods, and talking about the arrogant, self-centred and anally-retentive Captain was not likely to bring out the best in him, so he opted to change the subject. "Natalie…What brings you down here?"
"What do you mean?"
Banick looked up and shrugged. "Was it something you wanted, or… you just passing by?"
"Well, I was going to the sea deck, but when I heard all this noise, I decided I'd see what was going on."
Banick smiled wryly. "You know, you're not that good at lying, Nat."
She laughed for just a moment, but suddenly became more serious. "Jim, the Captain was going through your file. He came to the bridge asking all sorts of questions about you. I think he thinks that something is up."
Banick laughed. He didn't seem to care at all that Randbrough had been running a private background check on him. "He's most welcome to try and find something on me… But Captain Ainsley left a few things for us before he left... I switched the file."
Canebride's jaw became slack and it slowly turned in to a lopsided grin. She knew that Banick was capable of doing a lot of things that straddled the line of 'regulation'… but this was too far. "You're joking, right?"
Banick shook his head. "If Captain Randbrough saw my disciplinary file, I would have been in the brig days ago."
UEO High Court, Honolulu City, Hawaii. November 18th, 2040…
Three gavel strikes echoed through the interior of the court house as Admiral Timothy Locke presided over the room, making sure he had everyone's attention. The court was packed; not a single seat remained vacant. "Defence council, please stand."
Captain Ainsley and Ben Adler did so in silence, and Locke put on his glasses and read from a letter he held before him. "Under article 20, section 8 of North Sea Confederation naval regulations, and article 20, section 12 of UEO command regulations, you are charged with treason against the state and dereliction of duty. How do you plead?"
Ainsley cleared his throat, and held his head high. If he was going to be burned at the stake, he would do so with his dignity intact. "Not guilty, your honour."
Locke nodded as he struck his gavel again. "Very well. This court is now in session. Commander Jamieson, your opening statement."
Commander Allison Jamieson, the chief prosecutor was one of the most infamous attorneys in the UEO Judge Advocate General. In her career as a trial lawyer, she had never actually lost in the court room. She was a senior commander by all respects; in her mid-to-late thirties, and with the experience to go with it, it probably wouldn't be long before she was a Captain, and most likely presiding over the courtroom as a Judge. She got up from the prosecution bench and headed to the floor. "Thank you, your honour," pausing for a moment, she looked around to take in all those present, in particular the sitting jury that included both senior fleet Captains and Admirals, and proceeded. "Captain Mark Ainsley…" she said with a thoughtful frown. "For most who've served in the armed forces, the Captain's name is arguably known as one of the most celebrated commanding officers in the fleet. Decorated no less than half a dozen times including conspicuous medals for valour, courage under fire, and even the Navy Cross, those who have had the privilege of serving under him can testify to the fact that he is both a man of principle and honour. The Captain's exemplary service record is not in question… and under no circumstances should these achievements ever be held as anything other than they were given for; testaments to his good character."
Ainsley considered that Jamieson had probably made him a case study on several occasions. She'd no-doubt done her homework on his career, and probably knew details about his service that even he'd forgotten. She went on… "Despite all this… He now stands accused of one of the most serious capital crimes in law: treason. We can almost certainly assume in good confidence that the Captain's actions on the 7th of November at the Nintoku colony were done with honourable intent. He broke no law by answering the distress call of a colony located in neutral waters, but in doing so, he did – knowingly – commit the UEO Atlantis ASV to a situation where armed conflict was accepted to be a very likely and possibly inevitable outcome. Further more, when ordered to return to Pearl Harbor following the incident, the Captain did not acquiesce to the instruction, and Atlantis remained at sea for 3 more days… thus the charge of dereliction of duty. As a result of his actions and specifically those of the UEO Atlantis, he committed his country, and every other member state of the United Earth Oceans to war with the Macronesian Alliance. We are in this court room today asking a simple question; is this treason? Do the actions of following the letter of international law take precedence over the laws of one's home country? Yes… it is true that Captain Ainsley was serving under the command of the United Earth Oceans at the time of this incident, and as such, was bound by his duties to the organization and the laws we uphold. But was he not also bound by his duties as an officer of His Majesty's Royal Navy? I put forward to you that he was… and as Britain is a fully-signed and recognised member of the United Earth Oceans Organization and the Security Council, we must now deal with the grim reality that neither international law, nor the laws of Great Britain are mutually exclusive."
The speech went on for several minutes, and every word from that moment on hit hard. Ainsley knew that it was not Jamieson's intention to insult him, but it didn't soften the blow either. Finally, Jamieson finished by addressing the Jury – to very little surprise – and left the floor open once again. "Commander Adler, do you wish to make an opening statement?" asked Locke.
Adler nodded his head as he wrote a few notes down in front of him. Opening statements set the tone for the rest of the trial, and it was important to get the Jury on-side early, before any evidence could seriously begin to set within their minds. "Yes, your honour."
"Proceed."
Adler got up and took the floor. He gave Ainsley a reassuring nod before beginning. "Treason… and dereliction of duty. They are incredibly serious charges for anyone to deal with, no? As the prosecution has accurately stated… Captain Ainsley is a decorated and highly respected thirty-one year veteran of both the Royal Navy, and the UEO Navy. Why an officer so highly regarded by his peers and superiors alike would commit these acts at all, let alone willingly is totally beyond me… and I would even go so far as to say impossible. It would be a demeaning matter for me to pass judgement against any officer with even half of Captain Ainsley's experience, having never seen combat outside a courtroom my entire career. The simple fact is that very few people understand the reality of combat, and those who do understand only too well that there are times when even the most simple of orders can become incredibly hard to interpret. It is, in fact, one of the first things they will teach you at command school… and it is often the last thing that many Captains have had to deal with. For whatever faults he may have, Captain Ainsley must have done something right… as he is alive and sitting in this court room today."
Adler let that thought hang over the court room for a moment. He and Ainsley had decided early-on that it would be almost impossible to directly contest the validity of the charges given the straight-forward logic that had brought them about in the first place, but they could contest the situation which had begun this trial. "As I have said… I have no combat experience, and those who do probably wish they didn't. War is a very immoral thing in which those who serve must do things that question basic human ethics. We are trained to kill other people over the range of a thousand miles with a cruise missile. We don't know anything about the people we are killing, we only know the beliefs of their political leaders… and others have to suffer because of that. Do we call soldiers murderers because they kill? No… So why should we call Captain Ainsley a traitor simply because he followed standing orders of the UEO Charter? I quote from the Charter of the United Earth Oceans Organization, as ratified on June 16th, 2016. Article 1, section 1 clearly states that the mission of the UEO is to "To maintain international peace and security, and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace, and for the suppression of acts of aggression or other breaches of the peace, and to bring about by peaceful means, and in conformity with the principles of justice and international law"… In other words, ladies and gentlemen… the first and foremost mission of the UEO is to uphold the letter of international law. Captain Ainsley did that without any failing, and I would contest that to say otherwise would be to denounce the fundamental foundations of the UEO charter. To this end, the defence will prove that Captain Ainsley did, knowingly, follow the letter of standing UEO orders, and is thus guilty neither of treason, nor dereliction of his duty as a UEO officer."
…Sitting in the witness stand, Ainsley felt unusually intimidated by Commander Jamieson pacing across the floor in front of him. Adler had argued against putting him on the stand, as Commander Jamieson's reputation almost certainly meant that she would try to tear him to pieces. But lawyer or not, it wasn't a prospect that bothered Ainsley. He'd matched wits with some of the best tacticians on the face of planet and won many times… To him, this was just another battlefield tat was being resolved by cold, hard logic. And he did not intend to lose. "Captain Ainsley, I think you'll agree with me that in order to make some sense out of this mess… we should probably start from the beginning. Can you please tell the court what exactly happened aboard the UEO Atlantis ASV eighty-one-hundred just before the incident at Nintoku?"
Ainsley nodded curtly. Jamieson was merely establishing a setting for her argument… So he would give her exactly that, in his words. "Yes… We responded to a general distress call from the Colony when they reported that they were under attack by Macronesian submarines. Under the UEO charter, we were under every obligation to respond, so I ordered my XO, Commander James Banick, to set a course for the seamount at best possible speed."
Jamieson nodded. "Understandable. Did any of your officers question your decision to leave UEO waters?"
"No. they did not. The only question my crew raised was my order to take the Atlantis to full speed."
"Does that have anything to do with tactical decisions, Captain?"
"Yes and no… The faster you can get somewhere, the better. But Atlantis was less than a day old, so they questioned whether it was wise to take the ship to full speed without properly running them in first."
Ben Adler shook his head. "Objection - Relevance?"
Locke was about to agree with Adler before Jamieson quickly interjected. "-Your honour, Defence Council stated that no one can be expected to fully understand the realities of combat until they've seen it first hand. The prosecution concedes this point, and as Captain Ainsley is considered an expert witness in this regard, I am trying to get him to explain it."
Locke nodded and sat back in his chair in agreement. "Objection overruled… But be warned; if you stray; you pay."
Jamieson nodded gratefully to the Judge, and stopping pacing, come to a stop on the floor to look at Ainsley more directly; her arms folder low in front of her. "Ok… so in order to reach Nintoku in best possible time, you ordered that the Atlantis proceed at flank speed to the seamount. What was your next order?"
"I sounded battlestations."
"Why?"
"The Atlantis was already at standby alert, and as soon as we had confirmed the identity of the Macronesian submarines, they were classed as hostile."
Jamieson frowned, sensing something that did not add up. "But… you were still some time from making actual contact with the Macronesian vessels, were you not?"
"We were, yes."
"…So how do you assess something to be hostile if you haven't actually made contact with them yet, Captain? Wasn't it a little… pre-emptive to make such an assumption given that you had no idea what their intentions were?"
Ainsley smiled. He'd seen the question coming from a long way off, but was not going to say anything that wasn't asked. "With respect… I'm not at liberty to say, Commander. That would require me to divulge classified information."
Jamieson seemed taken aback by this, which was enough to draw a smile from Ben Adler. Jamieson turned to Admiral Locke's bench. "…With your permission, Admiral?"
Locke looked at the register of the proceedings who as taking down a transcript of everything that was being said. "Register, you will ignore the following comments. Captain Ainsley… you may answer the question."
The Captain nodded slowly, and answered the question as directly as possible. "The Atlantis has some of the most advanced sensor arrays in the world, Commander. In ideal conditions – and by that I mean a submarine plain with few or no navigational obstructions, and with the aid of WSKRS satellite telemetry, we can detect a submarine at 300 nautical miles, have a solid identification at 150 nautical miles, and acquire a preliminary firing solution at 60 nautical miles. Given that the Atlantis was only 50 nautical miles from the colony at the time we received the distress call, it was not difficult to acquire the necessary tactical data."
"…But, Captain, I'm confused. How is it that if the Atlantis is able to so easily detect a submarine at that range, you were unable to detect weapons fire from the Macronesian Orions prior to the distress call?"
Ainsley smirked. "No one said anything about it being easy, and at such distance, it is almost impossible to distinguish torpedo fire from a simple fast-moving speeder. If naval warships acted on everything that could be a threat, then the sea would be a much less friendly place."
"-In your opinion," corrected Jamieson with a slightly cautioning smile.
"Maybe."
"And did the Alliance submarines represent a threat to the Atlantis herself at the time of your decision?"
"No they did not," answered Ainsley truthfully, with some inkling that he was now digging a hole for himself.
"So, in other words, for you to act on the available sonar and sensor information that the Atlantis had received, in addition to the distress call, there was absolutely no doubt in your mind that the situation developing was a hostile one?"
"There is always doubt, no matter what the decision is. Part of being a good Captain involves being able to put aside doubt and act on an informed decision."
Jamieson nodded, and turned an eye to the jury, as if making a point. "Which you certainly did… Did it ever cross your mind at any point in time that following the instruction standing orders could be… wrong?"
Ainsley frowned, noticing from the corner of his eye that Adler was looking a little worried. What did Jamieson mean by 'wrong'? "I'm not sure what you mean, Commander. You'll have to be more specific."
"Sorry, Captain… I'll rephrase. You said yourself that you made an informed decision to consider the Alliance submarines hostile… whilst they were still in international waters, and presented no immediate threat to the Atlantis. Did it ever occur to you that the letter of orders can be extended to a point where they breach defined limits of international law?"
Jamieson had him cornered, and Adler saw it too. "Objection, your Honour. Argument is conjectural, and leading the witness."
Admiral Locke didn't seem to argue that point. "Objection sustained. Councillor Jamieson… thin ice. If you stray any further on this topic-"
"-Captain Ainsley," pressured Jamieson unrelentingly, and ignoring the Judge's warning. "Under article 2, section 3 of the UEO charter, it is clearly stated that "All Member states shall settle their international disputes by peaceful means in such a manner that international peace and security, and justice, are not endangered."
"Councillor!" repeated Admiral Locke with growing impatience. "The objection was sustained!"
Jamieson was on a roll, and wasn't about to be denied her moment. Her eyes sparkled with a furious and certain knowledge of victory. Nothing was going to stop her. "-Would you agree, Captain," she continued, "That by crossing the UEO border and engaging those Macronesian vessels that had been classified as hostile, you in fact broke general order 6 of the UEO charter?"
Adler was now on his feet, looking pleadingly with Admiral Locke whose face was now going red with anger. Ainsley simply sat in the witness stand, returning Jamieson's fiery stare, not flinching under the gaze. Locke looked down at Ainsley, shaking his head. "Captain, you are under no obligation to answer that question. Councillor Jamieson… See me in my chambers, immediately. This court is recessed. Captain Ainsley, you may stand down."
Locke hit his gavel against the bench, giving Jamieson a foul stare and shaking his head before heading straight to the door. The presiding bailiff had barely had a chance to call for the court to rise, and Locke was gone, with Jamieson close in his wake.
Ainsley got up from the stand, straightening his dress uniform, but not letting the shaking experience show on his reserved features. Adler was quickly taking to the floor to meet Ainsley as the various onlookers in the court room dispersed out the back of the hall. "Jesus Christ, Ben," said Ainsley under his breath as Adler approached. "You told me that she was a pit bull… but this is ridiculous."
"I warned you, Mark," said Adler, shaking his head. "I should never have let you on the stand. I just hope that little assault didn't put us in to the endgame about 3 weeks ahead of schedule."
"That went badly, didn't it?"
"…It's not too late to change your plea, Mark," said Adler sadly. "If you leave this court today in one piece, I'll be amazed."
UEO Atlantis ASV 8100. The Phoenix Islands. November 19th, 2040…
"General Quarters, General Quarters! All hands, man your battle stations! This is not a drill."
Alert klaxons rang throughout the corridors of the Atlantis as hundreds of crew ran to their battlestations. Across the ship, everything went in to lock down; massive watertight bulkheads slammed shut, sealing off the various sections of the submarine, while Marines brandishing M-31 assault rifles sprinted down the corridors to the barking of orders from their fire team commanders. Commander James Banick considered it as a rather morbidly amusing thought; anyone who wanted to board the Atlantis would have to deal with an entire company of such soldiers – 250 marines made up the Atlantis's garrison, and it was the general consensus of anyone who knew them that they were the meanest, nastiest and most seriously egotistical bastards on the entire boat... They believed they were the best, and it just so happened that they were right. Running through the main access corridors of B-deck, Banick and Natalie Canebride ducked as they came to low-lying bulkheads and swung through the clam shell doors of the bridge just before they thudded closed behind them with a snap-hiss of pressurizing air and the jarring 'clack' of their huge magnetic locks slamming shut within. Short of blowing a hole through the outer hull, there was absolutely no way anyone was getting on to the bridge now.
Unsurprisingly, Captain Randbrough was already seated comfortably in the center chair of the bridge, barking out orders to all those around him. "Sir? Anything to report?"
Randbrough did not turn away from his consoles as he ran through his monitors and various status reports from across the ship. The Captain's lip curled, as he was obviously unhappy with the prospect of having to explain anything to Banick. "Commander… Nice of you to join us. We've got the Alliance fleet in sensor range."
Sitting down at his own station on the Captain's right side, Banick quickly put aside any dislike he had for Randbrough, and professionalism took over. He was relieved to see that Randbrough was likely thinking along the same lines. "How many ships?"
"A dozen: Limited to Orion, Cepheus and Aleus class boats."
Banick raised an eyebrow in surprise. Aleus class submarines were Macronesian Subfighter-carriers. While only carrying about 2 dozen Lysander sub-fighters fully loaded, it wasn't their size they relied on. They made up wolf packs that had long represented a painful thorn in the side to the UEO; able to operate individually in very effective, coordinated strike groups. The fact there was any carriers in front of them alone completely destroyed any intelligence theories that existed that the Alliance were not fielding them so close to the front lines. "Carriers? How many?"
Randbrough looked back down at his console. "4 confirmed… 3 other subs in the group haven't been identified."
"Yes sir."
"Tactical, give me shooting solutions on the Aleus squadron. EVA control, get all pilots to their fighters and prep for immediate launch. I want them on the line in 5 minutes!"
"Aye, sir."
For the most part, the Atlantis was ready for battle. Torpedo batteries were fully prepped with full load-outs of 6 torpedoes apiece; each battery being ready to fire every single round on a moment's notice. It was an obscene amount of firepower. Of the 400 torpedoes that the Atlantis carried in her stocks at that moment, a full hundred were loaded in to tubes; their E-plasma warheads fully charged and ready to fire.
On the sea deck, things were not quite so organized. The hangars were always a bustle of activity as ammunition trolleys covered in 30-millimeter rail gun ammunition and torpedoes were shuttled too and from the armouries above and below the hangar decks as subfighters were loaded accordingly and readied for battle. Pilots completely ignored their pre-flight checklists as they clambered up the ladders and in to their cockpits. SF-37 Raptors made up the bulk of the Atlantis's EVA corps, and they were devastatingly lethal weapons in their own right. In addition to being armed with arrangements of miniaturized plasma torpedoes built solely for the purpose of subfighter armaments, they were also equipped with the newest addition to the UEO's subfighter arsenals; S/GA-14A "Hades" super cavitating, gattling railguns. The gattling gun was a tried and true design… and this one was no exception. The Hades guns were capable of accelerating their 6 barrels up to 9000 RPM, while spewing out their heavy 30 millimetre Uranium slugs at nearly 13,000 feet per second with the aid of long magnetic rails that were supercharged from the Subfighter's small fusion reactor. It was quite possibly the most devastating anti-subfighter munition ever developed. Just one or two direct hits from these shells could rip the wings of a fighter in nanoseconds, and in deep water with the crushing pressures of the ocean considered, even the slightest loss of hull integrity meant that the sub-fighters would be that much more susceptible to such bombardment.
These thoughts sobered Lieutenant Jane Roberts as she ran to her Raptor and clambered up the ladder to begin the start up sequences. Throwing on her radio headset with one hand, she opened up the injector lines of her fighter's twin aqua-return engines with the other before giving a confident thumbs-up to the tech crew scrambling around on the deck, readying her fighter for launch. The headset cracked in her ear as Commander Hitchcock's voice filtered in through the squadron's radio channel. "All pilots; this is Rapier One. Prep for immediate launch. Rapiers, launch on point. Bravo squadron, support our flanks."
"Acknowledged."
Strapping herself in, Roberts smiled at the technician who slid her canopy shut with a solid 'click' and sealed shut with a hiss of pressurizing oxygen. The tech simply nodded back with a confident smile. Anything he tried to say would have been drowned out by the wail of the many engines that were now coming to power around the hangar. Bringing the engines to idle, she waited as her fighter was towed across the deck to the launch ramps by the small flight deck tug that had latched itself to the fighter's nose gear. It was Showtime.
On the bridge, Banick was in awe at the sheer amount of activity around the command deck. Unlike their first engagement, Atlantis now had a full crew and things were a lot busier on the big boat. But the surprising fact was that everything was so amazingly coordinated between the various watch officers. Every officer on the bridge knew who to answer to, and it actually made for a very streamlined system of command. Returning to work, Banick got the final all clear from tactical and EVA; Atlantis was now fully ready for battle. "Captain, flight deck reports all pilots ready for launch on your orders. Tactical reports we have shooting solutions on the Carriers as you asked."
"Very good... Sensors… what are those carriers doing?"
The sonar operator frowned and shook his head. "I don't know sir. It's like they don't even know where here. They're just… sitting there."
"Very well... Helm, move us in. Take us to 90 knots."
Banick frowned deeply. He had absolutely no idea why Randbrough had just given that order. Taking the Atlantis in to the middle of the enemy fleet made no sense what-so-ever. They had shooting solutions, and they could simply stand off at long range without ever needing to put the ship in unnecessary danger, and what was more; the captain knew it. "Sir… I strongly advise against that. The Alliance fleet outguns us 3 to 1. We're already in weapons range, sir."
Randbrough said very little on the object. And it didn't look like he was going to elaborate any time soon. "I know. Helm… All ahead: 90 knots."
Madeline Hayes; sitting at navigation as the chief helmsman overheard the entire exchange and shook her head. "…Aye sir," she said with a moment's hesitation. "Engines ahead 90 knots."
Banick waited with growing anxiety as the Atlantis closed the gap with the Alliance fleet. This was going to be either a complete turkey shoot… or a very bloody massacre for both sides. "Distance to the closest target?" asked the Captain.
"3 miles sir."
"Launch the sea wing. Tell them to pick their targets at will."
"Yes sir."
Atlantis continued her advance on the enemy fleet, but still, not one of the Macronesians moved… Why? Banick shook his head. This was too far. "Captain… it has to be a trap. What the hell is going on?"
Randbrough looked decidedly unfazed. "Commander Banick… This is the most heavily armed and defended ship in the fleet. Our very much doubt they can hurt us… and closing the range to point-blank will give them absolutely no breathing room. This is going to be over before it even begins."
James Banick rose to his feet, now determined to confront Randbrough… but didn't get the chance to say anything before the sensor chief turned around in alarmed shock. "Sir! New contacts! Bearing One-Eight-Zero, pulling out of the trench directly behind us! It's… it's…"
Both Banick and Randbrough turned to the officer almost instantaneously. "It's what, Lieutenant?"
The sensor chief was beyond words, and simply flipped a control that put what he was looking at on to the main bridge screen. It quickly resolved in to the image of a vessel that sent cold shivers of dreaded shock down the spines of everyone on the Bridge: In perfect repair, and accompanied by a full strike wing of Macronesian Orion class Attack Submarines, was the UEO seaQuest DSV 4600. "Continue on present course and speed," said Randbrough cautiously, almost as if he hadn't even noticed "Take us directly in to the middle of their fleet."
Banick could take no more of this. Enough was enough. "Captain…"
"-Commander," interjected Randbrough, staring at Banick coldly. Every set of eyes was now resting squarely on the Captain and the XO; the few UEO marines at the rear of the Bridge were visibly tempted to raise their rifles. "You will resume your station…" continued the Captain after a moment, "…or I will have you arrested."
"Sir, permission to speak candidly?"
Randbrough was met only be the coldness of Banick's stare. Neither man flinched. "Spit it out, Commander"
Banick was only too happy to oblige. "If you do not belay that order, I will relieve you of command. You have not done a thing to explain your actions… and this crew has so far followed every order you have given without question. I think we are owed an explanation."
Randbrough's face was glowing with anger. Banick had just crossed the line, and either he, or the XO was going to be in the brig on charges in just a matter of seconds. "Commander…" he said coldly. "You are owed nothing. We have our orders, and the Alliance have theirs-"
Banick gave a sinister smile. Randbrough had just made his last mistake. He'd slipped, and now he would pay. Ainsley had been right all along. "And what does that mean, sir?"
The Captain still did not flinch as he looked around the bridge, and then back to Banick. "Commander… your missile key… now."
Banick simply stared. All those on the bridge were in total shock. No one could believe what was happening. Without warning, Randbrough snapped around, pulling out his side arm and pointed it directly at James Banick. The Atlantis XO stared blankly at the gun and was suddenly aware that the two Marines had already levelled their M-31s on the insane captain.
"Now!" yelled the Captain, visibly trembling with rage.
Banick nodded slowly and pulled out the key from under his white turtleneck shirt. He watched as Randbrough unfolded a piece of paper that had been in his pocket. He knew without even reading it what would be on it – the nine-digit arming code for the 20 Triton IV Ballistic missiles held deep within the Atlantis. Known only to the Captain and the XO, the code was kept under lock and key in the ship's safe. But Banick's arming key would be useless to Randbrough. He couldn't use it because of the key's built-in DNA-coded safeguards. He tossed the key towards Randbrough and watched helplessly as he snatched it from the air.
Keeping his gaze on Banick, his aim unwavering, Randbrough moved toward the tactical station and then made an unexpected move. Whipping around, he grabbed Lieutenant Commander Natalie Canebride and just as swiftly, moved the gun to her head, lodging it sharply beneath her jaw. "You two!" he yelled at the rifle-packing Marines. "Drop them, now! Or Commander Canebride will be the latest addition to the bridge paintwork!"
Banick's stomach sank at the sudden move. "No…" he thought silently. He then turned to the soldiers and nodded cautiously. The troops nodded hesitantly and they slowly set the rifles down on the deck. Turning back, Banick watched the insane Captain pull out his own missile key and move quickly to the missile control console. "Captain, listen to me-"
"Shut up, Banick!" yelled Randbrough. Placing the keys in the control locks, he motioned to Banick as he jarred his weapon up in to Canebride's jaw, prompting her to close her eyes painfully. "The key… you will turn it when I say… or she dies."
Banick knew this could only end one way… Randbrough had already lost. Moving to the controls, he gingerly took the key between his fingers, and looked at Canebride with apologetic, yet reassuring eyes.
"Three," said the Captain, beginning the count.
…Three seconds. That was the amount of time required to see if Captain Ainsley's gamble had paid off.
"Two,"
….Two seconds until Natalie Canebride was little more than a tragic memory.
"One."
A second of pure, unrivalled terror…
"Mark."
Banick turned the key in perfect unison with Randbrough and much to Banick's shock; the missile control panel became alive. The keys hadn't worked…
The Captain started working quickly by disengaging the safeties while still holding the Smith and Wesson to Canebride's neck.
Master alarms began sounding, and one by one, the mentally unstable Captain began arming each of the 20 ballistic missiles held in the Atlantis's silos. The computer's voice, so cold and inhuman now, asked for the final verification of the grim orders it had just been given. "Nuclear launch sequence initiated. Please provide strategic verification codes now."
"Computer, Authorise: Randbrough, Captain Arnold S; launch verification Alpha, niner, three, seven, bravo, tango, delta, delta, one, zero."
The Bridge was bathed in blood red light as the red lamps – designed to counter flash burn – replaced the gentle blue glow of the command deck's normal lighting. "Authorization verified. Targeting telemetry uploading… Please provide final launch verification."
Randbrough turned around from the console to look at Banick with fiery, angered eyes. They seemed tortured now… different from the reserved, stern man who had occupied the center chair just minutes before. "The UEO is dying, commander. It is a shattered dream… an illusion. It's only a matter of time before it falls, whether the Alliance destroys it, or it collapses from its own corruption – it's inevitable. Can you imagine the political and economic waste that would come from its collapse unchecked? It would mean famine and depression on a global scale for millions! Look around you at this boat… it's the manifestation of everything the UEO has become; fear. What kind of regime considers this the answer to the world's problems? Not even the Alliance is this bad… and now we can use the Atlantis to end the UEO once and for all…"
"And you seriously think that nuking several hundred million people is the way to do it? You're insane."
"Am I?" asked Randbrough, almost too sincerely to be rhetorical.
Banick nodded slowly as it all came together. "Ainsley was right. You and the Secretary General have been playing with Bourne this the whole time, haven't you? That's why you burned him, isn't it; to give the world a face to blame for this war. You couldn't have the UEO seen as being the benevolent force of good will that fought to the bitter end… you had to destroy the very core of everything it stood for first. And now the seaQuest… What the hell are the Macs doing with it? How long has Bourne been playing you, Captain? Who's the puppeteer? President Bourne? Secretary Dallinsley?"
Randbrough still held his grip still firm on Canebride's throat. "Bourne was a means to an end. Nothing more. This runs higher than you will ever know."
Banick shook his head. Any sanity that remained in Randbrough was now long gone… He no longer felt anger towards him, only a cold, hollow pity. Randbrough was a puppet whose strings had been severed. He was alone… for whatever reason, something had changed in his plan… and now he had lost. "Captain… End this. You can't win."
"Alright, Commander… I will."
Without another word, Randbrough disengaged the last safety, and hit the switch.
Checkmate.
UEO High Court, Honolulu City, Hawaii. November 19th, 2040…
Captain Ainsley sat in a small chair in one of the back rooms of the UEO's High Court with Commander Ben Adler and waited, all the while growing more and more impatient. The chief prosecutor, Commander Allison Jamieson was offering a deal; one that may benefit Ainsley… but all such deals had catches, the only question was whether the price was too high. The door to the small room opened, and Commander Jamieson walked in carrying a briefcase. She nodded to the 2 men in the room and sat down.
"Captain Ainsley…" she began sadly, as if making a confession. "I want to apologise for what happened yesterday. I was out of line… It was unfair, and I want you to know that you have nothing but my greatest respect."
"You have a funny way of showing it, Commander Jamieson…" replied Ainsley quietly
She bit her lip… and a heavy silence followed for several moments, and she opened her briefcase, and set down several papers on the table. "Captain, it's not too late to plead guilty. If you do so, I can guarantee a maximum sentence of 10 years with a dishonourable discharge. Given the circumstances, it's the best I can do."
Ainsley grimaced. "Commander," he paused, as if searching for the right words. "I did nothing wrong. I will not take 10 years off my life and throw my career away for nothing."
Jamieson sighed, looking to Adler for some help. She knew that Ainsley had lost the trial already, and it would take a miracle to save him. She suspected that Adler knew that as well, and was now quietly appealing to that fact. "What is my client looking at if we don't take this offer?" he asked, getting the hint.
"…Under UEO international law, probably 40 years with parole on good behaviour after 20," she said glumly. "If found guilty and the British decide to extradite… it could go to life or possibly the death penalty depending on how upset they are about this. I'm afraid the North Sea Confederation's sentencing of treason is quite harsh."
Ainsley did his best to keep his reservation, and Adler nodded quietly. "I will discuss it with the Captain and give you an answer when we've made a decision, councillor… thank you."
Jamieson nodded and began packing up some of the papers, leaving the important ones behind for Ainsley and Adler to work over. She'd gotten the best answer she could have hoped for and knew it only too well. "Very well… I'll leave you to think it over…Oh, and Captain?" She paused before leaving the room.
"Yes, Commander?"
"For what it's worth, sir… I really am sorry."
As Commander Jamieson closed the door behind her, Adler sat back in his chair in silence as Ainsley sighed in defeat. "Mark, I think maybe you should seriously consider her offer. It's very good… I can tell you now that if she didn't feel some degree of sympathy for you, it would be a lot worse."
The Captain shook his head. He would not give in… and even in the face of almost overwhelming odds, nothing could get him to compromise on his principles. "No. I will see this through."
Adler looked down at the desk. "You know you're looking at life if you do."
"So I heard."
Ainsley wasn't a man to give up easily. The trial had been a sideshow from the very beginning. He was the fall-guy for the UEO, and he would not let them do that without one hell of a fight. The UEO was already at its knees, not to Macronesia, but to its own Secretary General. From the moment Dallinsley had ended his first transmission to Ainsley after the Nintoku skirmish, he suspected that something was wrong. Now he was certain. His only hope was that Commander Banick was smart, and had realised the same thing. If Ainsley had any chance of surviving this, then his crew would be the ones to decide his fate. "Ben… I need to be honest with you… But I seriously don't think it's a good idea for it to leave this room."
Adler nodded hesitantly. "…Alright. What is it?"
"Command can't be trusted, the Secretary General has played this thing from the start… He's been playing to Bourne for I don't know how long… and there is a lot more at stake here than just my life."
Adler's mouth was open in shock. "Mark, you're already up on treason. Do you know what kind of repercussions those kinds of accusations would have?"
"Yeah, I do."
Adler was in shock. Was Ainsley delusional? "Mark… You're actually serious, aren't you?"
"Everything points to the Secretary General being involved, Ben… seaQuest disappears… and he sweeps it under the rug while the Atlantis attempts to investigate. Why?"
"Mark, I… You need to think about this very carefully. If you aren't 100 percent sure of what your doing, you're only going to hurt yourself."
The attorney got up from the table and walked to the door. "Guard, the Captain and I are done." The door opened, and Adler shook his head sadly as he looked at Ainsley. "You need to think long and hard about this."
With that, Adler left without a backward glance. Ainsley's list of friends was rapidly growing shorter and shorter… and his only hope was now a thousand miles away, with one man and one submarine that now stood at the very edge of a dangerous precipice. He had meant it when he said there was more at stake than just his life… and he only hoped he was wrong.