Rumors of Glory (The System States Rebellion Book 1) (13 page)

“NO! WE CAN’T LEAVE YET!” Stevens couldn’t believe his
ears. Jumping away, when that was possible, from an imminent missile strike
wasn’t a radical thing to do. It was standard Navy doctrine for God’s sakes!
They only had seconds left before the first incoming wave hit. There wasn’t
time to argue with this idiot. Stevens ran over to the Helm Station where the
jumpdrive controls were. Telling the Helm Officer to initiate a micro-jump
risked Stacker issuing contradictory commands and confusing the HO. Stevens
would just initiate the jump himself and hope that the other ships listened to
his last order over the com channel.

Stacker realized what the Commander was about to attempt
and lunged at him in an attempt to stop him.

“I GAVE YOU AN ORDER, COMMANDER! IF YOU DISOBEY ME, I’LL
SEE YOU COURT-MARTIALED FOR COWARDICE IN THE FACE OF THE ENEMY!”

Stevens said nothing. He was too busy trying to set up
the micro-jump and fend off Stacker’s attempts to push him away from the
console. Even with all that going on, some part of Stevens’s mind was aware of
the fact that no one had reported any of the other ships jumping away. They
should have done so by now if they were obeying his last order. While he did
not have any official authority to give orders to the other seven commanders,
he was the CO of Stacker’s flagship, and Flag Officers often relayed orders to
other ships through their flagship’s CO. So why weren’t the other ships jumping
away? A glance at Stacker’s rage-contorted face revealed the answer. There was
a red light on the front of the boom microphone on Stacker’s headset. That
meant that Stacker was also connected to the squadron tactical com channel. The
other COs had also heard Stacker countermand Stevens’s order.

He was just about ready to activate the jump drive when
Stacker head-butted him on the left side of his head. Stevens blacked out and
fell down. He regained his vision just in time to feel the ship shudder. Oh
God, they’d been hit!

As he tried to get up, he heard the Helm Officer say,
“Accel’s down to 4.7! Jumpdrive is offline!” Stevens heard someone groan, then
realized that he was the one who had made the sound. He looked at Stacker. The
Commodore’s face had gone white as a sheet, and his expression was now one of
anguished understanding at what he had done.

“If we survive this and get back, I won’t be the one who
gets court-martialled, Commodore. You will for criminal negligence!”

Janicot watched as the icon representing Grant’s second
volley merged with the icon representing the FED cruisers. The number inside
the red triangle suddenly dropped from eight to six. Two ships had obviously
jumped away. What in God’s Name was going on up there on that squadron’s
flagship? Those ships had plenty of time to jump away once they began active
scanning, but they didn’t, not even after the first volley hit. What kind of
idiot would order his ships to stay and take hits that they couldn’t defend
against? The fact that six ships were still there, and about to be hit by the
third volley, suggested pretty strongly that they had lost the ability to jump
away. None of them were moving very quickly either. That meant that they
wouldn’t be able to evade the other volleys, and that meant that his other six
missile boats now had a chance to strike back. However, first they had to
intercept as many of the enemy’s missiles as possible, and that attempt was
just about to happen.

The problem was that each incoming wave had 80 missiles
in it, and they were spread out enough that six missile boats could not
possibly block them all. As the red missile icon reached the green missile boat
icon, the number inside the red triangle dropped from 80 to 66. The boats
continued their trajectory upward to try blocking the other incoming volleys,
while at the same time getting within their own missile range, but Janicot’s
attention was now focused on the sidebar data relating to the ground-based
anti-missile batteries. There were 22 missile batteries with 20 anti-missile
missiles each. If every missile hit an incoming warhead, they might have
enough, but Janicot knew that was being too optimistic. This first generation
of AMMs weren’t nearly that reliable. Sparta City was going to get hurt.

“Captain Obrist! Has the Chancellor been transported to
the new Command Bunker?”

“Yes, Sir, he has!”

Janicot thought fast. “Order the evacuation of all Navy
and Army surface buildings, Captain! Let’s hope those missiles are aimed at
military targets because there’s not enough time to evacuate the whole city!”

Electronics Technician Morgan opened the hatch of the
shuttle he’d just finished repairing and heard the air raid warning siren. He
suddenly remembered that he had taken his personal transceiver out of his ear
earlier because the normal chatter was making it hard to concentrate on his
repair task. As he fumbled to get the device out of his pocket, he heard what
sounded like cloth ripping. He could tell that it was coming from the
anti-missile battery that was almost a kilometer away. He shivered with fear
because he knew what was causing that sound. Anti-missile missiles had an
acceleration of 34Gs. That meant that they would go supersonic after travelling
a mere 166 meters. The ripping sound was the sonic booms generated by missiles
launched so close together that it was impossible to distinguish one boom from
the next. The fact that any AMMs were firing meant that the Base was under
missile attack from space. But that wasn’t what was causing his fear. His fear
was caused by the knowledge that if one AMM battery was firing, then others
would too, and there was another battery less than 100 meters from where he was
standing. No one knew how dangerous it was to be that close when 20 sonic booms
went off.

Morgan heard another sound behind him that he recognized.
It was the sound that’s made when an AMM battery’s protective cover is blown
clear just prior to launch. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him
to hug the ground and cover his ears with his hands. He listened to that scream
and covered his ears just in time. The sound of the staccato booms was
deafening. The series of sonic boom compression waves knocked the wind out of
him and left him struggling to take a breath.

When the battery finished launching its birds, Morgan
rolled over onto his side to help his lungs pull in some air. He saw hundreds
of people running away from the Navy Operations building that was roughly a
kilometer away. Something streaked down so fast that it barely registered on
his awareness. It hit the three-story building, which exploded with a fury that
made Morgan instinctively curl up into a fetal position with his arms covering
his face. His fear of being hit by debris didn’t prevent a part of his
consciousness from noticing that the sound of the explosion seemed to be coming
from two different directions. When the sounds and the vibrations in the ground
died out, he opened his eyes and sat up. The Operations building was a blasted
ruin. Looking around, he saw that the Army building was gone too. He was too
stunned by the violence of the blasts to think coherently. All he could think
of right now was to get up and get to his truck. As he stumbled over to the
vehicle, he looked past it to the center of the city. There was a rising black
cloud over what looked like the Government Quarter.
My God! They’ve killed
the Chancellor!

He got into the truck and turned on the two-way radio.
There was nothing but static on any of the channels he tried. Then he
remembered his transceiver and dug it out of his pocket. When he had it in
position, he heard static from it too. The transmitters must have been
destroyed. Off in the distance, he saw someone try to stand up only to fall
back down again. People, who were a lot closer to the blasts than he was, were
hurt. They needed help. He wasn’t a medic, but he had a truck that could carry
wounded to the hospital, and since he wasn’t getting any orders over the radio,
that’s exactly what he was going to do until someone told him otherwise. He
floored the accelerator, and the truck leaped forward.

Remington woke to the piercing sound of the evacuation
siren. She had only ever heard it in simulation exercises. She lifted her head
just in time to see one of the security officers running past her cell to the
exit.

“HEY! WHAT ABOUT US!” she yelled. There was no answer.
Quickly getting up, she went to the plexiglass barrier that formed the front of
her cell and tried to look down the corridor to where the door was. It was just
closing behind the fleeing officer. Looking the other way, she saw no one but
heard some of the other prisoners yelling something that was difficult to hear
clearly due to the siren’s noise level. It was obvious that this wasn’t any training
exercise. If the building was being evacuated, that could only mean one thing.
An attack from space was in progress. She’d seen a demonstration video of an HE
warhead hitting a ground target, and the thought of being in an underground
level of a building about to be hit by one made her moan with fear. Looking
around, she focused on the metal-framed, double bunk bed that was bolted to the
wall. There was space under the lower bed for storage of personal items like
books, personal grooming supplies, etc. She quickly pulled out the containers
from underneath and rolled her body into the now empty space. She covered her
face and ears as best she could with her arms and hands.

When the warhead hit, she felt the concussion wave right
through the concrete floor she was lying on. The entire structure seemed to
bounce upward a few centimeters as the force of the blast diminished. There was
a loud CRACK, and something hit one of her feet. She opened her eyes, but the
room was now pitch black. The lights were all out. She waited to see if the
emergency lights would come on. Eventually there was a faint light from down
the corridor. There was just enough light now that she could see the condition
of her cell. Debris had fallen from the ceiling. She climbed out from under the
bed and saw that more debris had fallen on the upper bed, and some of that had
smashed right through and was now lying on the lower bed. Some of those pieces
were large and heavy enough that they would have caused her serious injury if
she’d only had one bed over her. She looked at the barrier and saw that it had
cracked in several places, with sections missing. One of them was large enough
for her to climb through.

The corridor was also filled with debris, some of which
was quite large. She ran down the corridor looking into each of the other
cells. Being closer to the point of impact, they were all in far worse shape
than hers. None of the other prisoners were moving, and she didn’t know if they
were alive or not. If they were, then they would need a lot more assistance
than she could give them. She decided the best thing she could do was to try to
get help.

She ran back to the exit at the other end of the
corridor. The door had been partially ripped off its hinges. Once past that,
she found deserted guard stations. After trying to call the elevator for what
seemed like a long time, she gave up on it and headed for the stairs. The
stairwell was filled with smoke, and she felt heat from somewhere higher up.
She remembered passing an emergency station that contained a fire extinguisher
and an oxygen tank with attached facemask. She managed to get it open and put on
the oxygen mask, with the tank slung over her shoulder.

As she started up the stairs, she saw that it quickly
became choked with debris, some of which was burning. Getting around it was
awkward but doable. The surprise was what she found when she pushed open the
door on the next level, which was the building’s ground floor. There were lots
of fires and thick black smoke, but she was able to see that for all intents
and purposes, the ground floor and everything above it was gone, except for
some small sections of the outer walls. What was left was burning piles of
rubble. She felt the heat through her facemask. By stepping carefully, she
managed to get out of the wreckage and into the open. There was debris
everywhere, and some of it looked like human bodies. Farther away she could see
emergency vehicles approaching. She ran towards them waving her arms.

Security Commander Powell regained consciousness and
groaned from the pain at the back of his head and his face. The explosion must
have sent a piece of debris flying that hit his head, knocking him to the
ground, and he must have hit the ground with his face. His nose felt like it
was broken, and he was sure that it was bleeding. His left leg hurt like hell
too. He heard someone running and opened his eyes. At first his vision was
blurry, but it started to clear up. Standing about 10 meters in front of him
was someone waving their arms. He blinked furiously to clear the remaining
blurriness and gasped. It was that Goddamned FED lieutenant who had tried to
kill the Chancellor! How the HELL had she gotten out? She was obviously trying
to escape. Looking down, he saw that he still had his sidearm. He reached for
it and grimaced with the pain in his wrist. He must have fallen on it the wrong
way, but he could still extract his pistol and shoot that bitch. He got the gun
out and raised his arm. His arm was trembling, and he had difficulty holding
the gun steady. When he thought he had it aimed properly, he pulled the
trigger. Nothing happened. He’d forgotten to switch the safety off, dammit! He
cursed out loud and tried to move the lever, but the attempt sent excruciating
pain through his wrist, causing him to almost drop the gun.