Rumors of Glory (The System States Rebellion Book 1) (4 page)

Trojan saluted again, turned and walked away. Oracle’s
prediction that the Council would not approve the full program was vindicated.
He was certain that eventually they would, but by then priceless time would have
been lost, and the Federation would have a tougher time playing catch up with
the SSU. Trojan’s expression was grim as he walked to his staff aircar. Oracle
was predicting a long war.

Day 295/2539

Commodore Stacker cursed under his breath as he mentally
reviewed his secret orders. In his opinion, using the negotiations over the
SSU’s status as a front for a surprise attack from space was idiotic. Missiles
with conventional explosive warheads were unlikely to ‘decapitate’ the SSU
except through sheer luck. Admiral Chenko was smart enough to know that but had
told him to carry out the order anyway. To make matters even worse, he had
ordered Stacker to take his squadron of three cruisers down to a low orbit over
Sparta’s capital city before launching his missile strike. That kind of attack
was certain to generate retaliation by ground-based missile defense batteries,
and his ships would be lucky to get back beyond the hyper-zone boundary. He
should have refused to accept those orders. That would probably have meant
kissing goodbye any chance of getting his second star, but at least he’d be
alive. He tried to take some consolation from the thought that if he survived
this clusterfuck, the Navy Chief of Staff would owe him big-time.

“We’ve achieved orbit just beyond the hyper-zone,
Commodore,” said Captain Corvosier, Coral Sea’s CO.

“Might as well let them know we’re here and wish to
talk,” said Stacker. “You can also tell Sparta Space Traffic Center that we’ll
be dropping down to a low orbit too.” Stacker turned to look at the person
standing next to him, Assistant Colonial Secretary Sylvia Santiago. She gave
him a serious nod, which he was certain was intended as granting him permission
to do what he had just ordered his ships to do. It amused and infuriated him
that she clearly thought she was in charge of this mission. Obviously no one
had briefed her on the real mission.

“Are we over Sparta City, Commodore?” asked Santiago.

Stacker looked at the main display and frowned. His ships
were still too far away, from the planet, to be able to answer that question.
“What about that, Captain?” asked Stacker.

The ship’s CO conferred with one of his Bridge personnel
and then turned back to Stacker and Santiago. “The capital city is on the far
side of the planet right now. It’s still pre-dawn where they are, sir. I’ll
make sure that we hold position over the city by the time we’re finished
spiraling down to low orbit, sir.”

“Very good, Captain. How long will that take?”

“Approximately 22 hours if we come in with a
non-threatening approach profile, sir.”

Before Stacker could say anything, Santiago interjected.
“I’m not going to wait a whole day before I go down there to meet with
President Belloc. As soon as communications have been established, I’m going to
offer to meet with Belloc as quickly as possible. A shuttle or ship’s boat or whatever
you people call your small craft will have to take me the rest of the way,
Commodore.”

Stacker felt his anger rising. His orders were to attack
from low orbit BEFORE she was scheduled to travel down to the surface. If he
let her go now, she’d be meeting with Sparta’s President at the same time that
Stacker’s missiles would be trying to kill him. Admiral Chenko would not be
happy if Santiago got killed as collateral damage, but telling her about the
proposed attack was not an ideal alternative. She would undoubtedly be put in
visual contact with President Belloc before too much longer, and it was
important to the mission that she be convincing in her appeals to resolve the
situation through negotiations. After talking with her for over two months on the
way here, he’d come to the conclusion that she wasn’t a good liar or a good
actress and she would, unintentionally of course, act in a way that would tip
the rebels off that something was up. Since he couldn’t let her go down there
prematurely, and he wouldn’t risk telling her about the real mission, that left
just one other option.

“That may not be necessary, Ms. Santiago. Captain? I want
the squadron to reach and hold position over the capital at a low orbital
altitude as quickly as possible.”

The CO hesitated half a second before turning to issue
the order to his crew. Stacker noticed that Santiago had a look of triumph on
her face. To his surprise, that didn’t bother him at all. He turned back to the
main display to watch the tactical data.

                                            *  *  *

Janicot woke up to the sound of the com unit beside his
bed and suddenly realized that it was the ringtone indicating a call from the
Aerospace Defense Command.

“Accept call,” he said.

“This is the ADC Duty Officer, Captain Obrist. Sorry to
have to wake you, Admiral, but three FED cruisers have just emerged from
hyper-space over the far side of the planet. They say they’re carrying an envoy
from the Federation Council to discuss Sparta’s status within the Federation.
They’re asking if President Belloc is able and willing to take a video call
now, sir. They’ve also said it’s their intention to drop down to a low orbit.”

Janicot sat up, knowing that his voice and his movement
would wake his wife. “What are those ships doing right now, Captain?”

“They’re approaching the planet at moderate speed, but
they’re decelerating, sir. Given their course and speed, they could be in a low
orbit position over the Capital in less than two hours. I’ve taken the liberty
of alerting the two missile boats we have in geo-sync orbit, sir.”

“Very good, Captain. This is what I want you to do. Tell
those cruisers to come no closer than one million klicks. Order our missile
boats to hold off on scanning with their own radars. We’ll send them targeting
information from the ground if necessary. I don’t want those cruisers spotting
the boats if they haven’t already. Next, contact the President and relay my
suggestion that he join me at the Ops Center as soon as possible. And finally,
sound a Stage One Alert. All ground-based interceptors are to be powered up,
but they’re not to use their own radars until I give the green light. Any
questions, Captain?”

“No questions, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Drake realized he had drifted off to sleep on the Bridge
of MB102 when the tactical display sounded the alert. He sheepishly looked
around at the other Bridge personnel, but no one was looking at him. He never
thought he’d complain that the acceleration couches were TOO comfortable, but
sometimes it was hard staying awake for hours at a time when nothing was
happening. But now something was happening. Orbital radars had picked up the
emergence of three ships that were now identified as Federation cruisers. A
text message from Ops was quickly scrolling across the bottom of the tactical
display.

[Missile boats will go to full alert status. Standby for
further orders.]

“Okay, people, let’s wake ourselves and this boat up!”
said Drake. As systems came back online, Drake evaluated the tactical
situation. The FEDs were still way out at the very edge of the 5.5 million
kilometer diameter sphere of space where travelling through hyperspace was not
possible. His missile boat, on the other hand, was only a quarter of a million
kilometers above the planet’s surface. But besides the question of altitudes
there was also the question of position. For someone looking down on Sparta
from above its North Pole, if the Capital city was at the 12 o’clock position,
his missile boat would be at 10 o’clock and the FED cruisers would be at 6
o’clock. The other missile boat, MB101, was also a quarter million kilometers
away at the 2 o’clock position. All ships and boats were orbiting in a
counter-clockwise motion. According to the orbital radars, the cruisers were
now decelerating downward, and the projected path led straight to the Capital.
During their descent, they would pass in front of Drake’s boat. He hadn’t
ordered the boat to go to active scanning yet, and he decided he would hold off
on doing so unless Ops ordered him to. If his missile boat stayed quiet, the
FEDs might not become aware of his position, and that might translate into
having the element of surprise if missiles started flying. It was too bad that
the Yorktown was away on a mission. Two missile boats against three cruisers
was dangerously risky. Adding a cruiser of their own to the mix would have made
him feel a lot better about their chances. The tactical display pinged for
attention. Another text message from Ops scrolled across.

[Do not, repeat, do not begin active scanning unless
ordered to do so. Standby for further orders.]

“Ha. Hurry up and wait. How typical,” said Drake to no
one in particular.

“They’re telling us to approach no closer than one
million klicks,” said Corvosier.

Stacker grunted his acknowledgement. The Spartans were
not co-operating, and that made achieving the mission objectives of killing the
SSU leadership almost impossible. If his ships ignored the altitude directive,
the Spartans would know there was hostile intent and react accordingly. If his
ships did stay that far away, ground-based defenses would have plenty of time
to lock on and intercept any missiles he might launch.

“Any sign of orbital defenses yet?” asked Stacker.

“Nothing visual, but we haven’t started actively scanning
yet,” said Corvosier.

“Well start now. I want a 360 degree sweep,” said
Stacker.

“The Spartans are going to wonder why we’re doing that,
sir,” said Corvosier.

“I know, and it can’t be helped. If I’m going to ignore
their altitude directive, I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

“Yes, sir.” Corvosier turned to his Bridge crew and gave
the necessary orders.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stacker saw Santiago walk
over to him from the far side of the Bridge.

“If I didn’t know better, Commodore, I’d swear that you
were acting as if you expected hostile action.”

He found her tone, which clearly implied that it would be
silly to expect such a thing, extremely patronizing.

“Just taking some prudent precautions, Ms. Santiago. If
Sparta really has opted to leave the Federation, then they may be willing to
initiate hostilities in spite of our stated desire for peaceful discussions.”
He took a great deal of satisfaction watching her face suddenly become pale
with fear.

“You don’t think…they wouldn’t…would they?”

Stacker shrugged. “Anything is possible. You still
haven’t spoken with President Belloc. It could be that he’s asleep, and they
have to wake him up, but it could also be that they’re hoping to lure us into a
position where they could hit us while making it difficult for us to fire
back.”

“If the situation is that risky, then ignoring their
altitude directive is bound to increase the risk. Why not just stay above their
minimum altitude?” asked Santiago.

Stacker had no ready answer for that. Santiago took his
silence to mean that he was willing to back down. “I’m willing to take a
shuttle over that last million kilometers, Commodore. Therefore let’s play nice
and follow their instructions.”

Stacker briefly debated whether to order Corvosier to
have his marines arrest Santiago and drag her off the Bridge, but then another,
less controversial idea presented itself.

“Very well then, one million kilometers it is,” he said.
As she turned away with another look of triumph on her face, Stacker walked
over to where Corvosier was standing and turned so that his back was to
Santiago.

Corvosier understood what was happening. “Do we follow
their instructions?” he asked in a low voice.

“No. Tell Her Nibs that her landing craft is ready to
depart when we’re within 10 minutes of crossing that million klick threshold.
Once she’s inside that craft, we’ll depressurize the hangar bay and leave her
there,” said Stacker in an equally low voice.

Janicot entered the Operations room and sighed. It was
exactly for situations like this that a new, more secure Command Center was
being built deep underground, but it wasn’t ready yet. For now, he had to use
the old Federation-built Operations room that was on the ground floor of the
former FED Navy building. That building had no armor protection of any kind.
One standard space-to-surface missile with a high explosive warhead would
effectively destroy the whole structure. Janicot felt horribly exposed, but
this was all they had at the moment.