Chapter 7 Proud Mary

Author's Preface

The Hrun invasion force of 34 P.I. that managed to land on Burrow unnoticed had the incredibly bad luck to land in the wilderness around Lake Russo.

Known mostly for its stunning, untouched natural beauty, this valley is also home to Camp Russo, an ASN installation exclusively for ASN and Army personnel struggling with PTSD.

What really happened the night of the landing is still more rumor than proven fact.

The only thing we know for sure is that no Hrun soldier has ever been found, and the camp museum has new exhibits of Hrun armor and weapons.

— Excerpt from the Wikipedia article on the Hrun conflict, 143 P.I.

The battle in the asteroid field had died down. Stragglers were picked off by Nixtred frames and Breacher swarms.

Now he just needed one more piece of information.

“Comms, any reports from the scouts?” His voice was hoarse from all the commands he had given over the last hour. That’s why the older admirals drank tea with honey before a battle.

Scouting the heliosphere had to be done from outside it. A fleet lying low could hide and was almost impossible to find from inside the system.

Knowing there wasn’t any surprise out there would allow him to use his ammunition more liberally.

“Just got a report from the Janis Joplin ; nothing on the long-range scanners, but a full scan will take time.”

No surprise there.

Even a cursory long-range scan would have revealed some trace of a larger force, so if the Batract had any ships left in reserve, it wasn’t a large force.

“Garcia to frame launchers, take out the stragglers.”

The minefield would handle any small reinforcements.

The frames launched, and the effect was impressive as always. Ships imploded and exploded at once, hit by the missiles and by the unstable FTL transits of the frames themselves.

Then all weapons fire stopped. Some planetary guns kept firing at debris that was about to hit a planet or an encampment, but no enemy ship was left intact.

“That’s it?” A young lieutenant at the comms station said it to her neighbor just a bit too loudly.

No, honey, the real drama is just about to begin.

“Garcia to Pioneers, get tenders ready for SAR. I don’t want a single person missing, alive or… fallen. And someone drag the Taishon out of that destroyed Leviathan.”

Only 204 ships were still in combat-ready condition. Less than a quarter of the initial defense force.

Search and rescue alone would take days. Repairing the fleet, months.

Suddenly, Garcia felt tired. Exhausted and deeply tired.

—————

The Sleipnir landed a few hundred meters from the lake. Admiral Russo had been informed by Burrow One that Garcia was coming down to the planet.

After the battle, the medics had won and dragged Russo into the medbay. There they discovered severe internal hemorrhaging. Easily fixable with xenobots, but he had been ordered off duty for two weeks.

He picked a beer bottle out of the icebox next to his camping chair. All around the lake were deep woods. Today he had seen the first bees. Biologists were releasing imported lifeforms from Earth all around the planet.

Very little native wildlife had survived the rushed evacuation of the planet, and the specialists had begun to fill the void with Earthborn supplements. Luckily, both planets had compatible biospheres.

Garcia stepped out of the transporter and greeted Russo from a distance. Holding up the beer, Russo urged his second-in-command to hurry up.

The camp wasn’t large or sophisticated, but it had a small jetty out into the water. Russo was proud of it; he had built it himself over the last week. No robotic or industrial help, just him, an axe and his hands.

Behind Russo were his emergency tent and his Sleipnir. He hadn’t set foot on the Sleipnir the whole week he had been on Burrow.

“Admiral, a nice piece of land you have picked out for your recovery.” Garcia looked around, a smile on his face.

Reminded of his injury, the admiral touched his head.

“Not only my recovery. I’ll retire here too.” Russo pointed to a small hill next to the lake. “I’ll build my cabin up there so I can fish from my veranda.”

“There are no fish in the lakes, Sir. I hope you know that.”

Laughing, Russo handed the beer to Garcia. “That’s what makes fishing even more relaxing.”

“Things in orbit are calming down. We finished clearing the debris and—” Russo raised his hand, his face dead serious.

“Stop. I guess you have it under control?”

Garcia looked baffled. “Yes, sure.”

Russo sat back down in his camping chair. “Then I’ll trust you. You’re welcome to stay and drink your beer, on the condition that we talk about anything but work.”

Twelve thousand nine hundred sixty-three confirmed dead, another twenty-three hundred missing, most probably vaporized by the gravimetric shears. Russo never wanted to speak about work again.

“It’s a quiet place, here. The whole planet is wild and untamed. Hard to believe such beauty can grow from absolute destruction.”

His XO just nodded.

“You’re not sure how to treat me right now, right? If I’ve lost my mind.”

Garcia still just stared.

“Well, maybe I have, but I think I see more clearly now than ever.” He smiled, looking up at the still-standing Garcia.

“Dammit, sit down. I’m getting a stiff neck.”

Unfolding a camping chair, Garcia sat down next to the admiral. Both men stayed silent.

After a few minutes, Garcia cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’ve lost your mind, Sir. Not at all. But I’m a bit worried.”

“Oh, you can speak. I was worried you’d suddenly lost your tongue. Son. I’m sixty-eight. I always intended this to be my last posting. And if the morons at home hadn’t started yet another war, I’d be on my way home already. You don’t need to worry about me; I’m just old. Did you know I started my career flying the old Mirage Transorbital back in the day?”

Garcia raised his eyebrows. “No, Sir, I’ve only seen them in museums.”

Laughing dryly, the admiral continued. “Yes. While my brother sat comfortably in his landing craft on the way to New York, I strapped my ass to a ton of hydrazine and shot into space to destroy Rod of God satellites.”

“I’ve read those squadrons had a survival rate of less than fifty percent.” The hint of admiration in Garcia’s voice was unmistakable.

“Still better than last week. Sometimes I think it’s time for the old farts to piss off into retirement and leave the Navy to the young ones. You know you did a good job up there, right?”

“I thought you didn’t want to speak about work… Sir.”

“You could easily be an admiral if you weren’t so damn insubordinate.”

“That’s part of my boyish charm, Sir. And, if you’ll excuse me for being direct, everyone saying you’re too old is an idiot.”

“I’m saying it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not because we almost lost, or the fallen and wounded. I just think the next generation is ready to take the lead. There’s almost no one left from my generation. Georgiou, Browner, Jellico, and me. The rest are dead or were smart enough to settle. And I think I’m settling right here, right now.”

“If you say so, Sir.” The commodore emptied his bottle and placed it into the icebox. “It’s getting late, and I have a system to lead. I’m holding your office until you’re formally relieved of duty, if that’s really what you want to do.”

Russo didn’t answer as Garcia turned and walked back to the waiting Sleipnir.

—————

It took a few seconds for the call to connect. Admiral Browner braced himself for the possibility that it wouldn’t go through. But then his old colleague appeared on screen.

Admiral Jellico was obviously not in his office. London’s skyline at night was clearly visible through the window behind him.

“David, I didn’t believe it when I saw who was calling me. A little collusion with the enemy on this nice Sunday evening?”

Shifting in his seat, Browner sat upright and signaled Captain Carmichael to be silent.

“I’m not up for joking, Ed. I’m calling you to end this madness.”

Jellico’s expression shifted slightly. Browner could clearly see that the man was as tired of the war as he was.

“If only it were that simple. What do you think I can do to help?”

“Well, you can start by calling back your—” Browner looked at the dataslate Cadet Six had given him earlier. “—four frigates and one missile cruiser that are currently bombing the shit out of Armstrong City.” He forced himself to sound casual, even though he was boiling with anger.

“What are you talking about, Dave? That’s a breach of the Venus Accords. Are you crazy? I’ve never ordered any attack there.” Jellico’s face had gone white. Browner knew in that instant the man was telling the truth.

“Admiral, important update from intelligence, Sir.” Six was standing at the door again. Browner was about to signal her to be silent, but the cadet kept talking, not realizing he was on a call. “The Terran Senate has just replaced Admiral Jellico with Admiral Hussein. The official reason is that they think Jellico was sparing ASN forces too much.”

“Thank you, Cadet. You can leave.”

On the screen, Jellico had begun typing on his dataslate.

“Did you hear that, Ed? They’re gunning for you. The morons in the Senate think this is all a game while we die up here.”

“Not only that. A friend in the Justice Department just informed me that there’s an arrest warrant out for me. David, I need to leave.”

Browner couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. In a different universe, their positions could easily have been switched. “Do you think they traced this call?”

“No, my lines are secure. It’s the Senate; they’ve pushed for a more aggressive stance the whole time. The Prime Minister wants to take Luna and the docks there. The moron thinks we can win against the whole system and then beat the Batract.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

Jellico frantically packed a bag. “Yes, don’t worry about me. There are plenty of friends of mine who aren’t happy with the Senate. Listen, do you really want to stop the war? If so, I’m sending you access data to reach a… friend. He doesn’t like me much, but you two are a perfect fit.”

A file appeared in the inbox, and Browner opened it after scanning it for harmful data.

“You’re joking. Captain Botha?”

Jellico laughed. “Trust me, Dave. I need to go. I’ll call you.”

With that, Jellico ended the call.

“That will be interesting, Admiral.”

Browner just shook his head.

Earth was playing with fire.

——————

The Pegasus was an upgrade from the Helios . And unlike on the Helios , he knew most of the officers here.

Enjoying a coffee in the ship’s small canteen, Captain Botha read through the report on their next target.

Shambhala. The mere idea of such an installation was pure madness.

The idea of taking it, even more so.

The station, colony, starship? What even was it? Didn’t matter. It had a population of millions, so taking it was out of the question.

But the orders came directly from the Prime Minister.

And what the Prime Minister wants, the Prime Minister gets, even if we lose thousands of Marines storming a fortified base. Why are we at war with the Aligned Planets again? Oh yeah, because they’re basically a junta. Dictators are so much better.

Jellico had been ordered to assemble a small armada out in the belt, and Botha was ordered to take command and take the asteroid.

Reading through the list of ships, he noticed something odd. The Nemesis , Medusa, and Cadmus were commanded and crewed by former ASN personnel. The Lexington , Prometheus, and Triton were crewed and commanded by former Earth Defense personnel, and someone had ordered them back to Sol an hour ago. Instead, he had gotten the Talos , Vesta, and Roanoke . Again, all former ASN personnel.

Was someone segregating former ASN personnel from Earth Defense ships?

Curious, he tried to reach Jellico. No matter what he thought about the man personally, he was a skilled officer and wouldn’t allow such nonsense. After trying for minutes without getting a signal, he became more suspicious.

Should he try to call her? They hadn’t talked since the day she had left him. Only to marry a month later.

Alice Jellico, Botha’s former fiancée and now wife to Admiral Jellico.

He hesitated for a second, then his sense of duty won. He needed to reach the admiral.

The signal connected immediately.

“Pieter?” It had been three years, and her voice still sent shivers down his spine. And anger rising in his stomach.

“Yes, Alice. I need to talk to your husband. It’s urgent.”

Alice began to cry. “Didn’t you hear? No, you’re not on Earth, like always.”

“Hear what?” He ignored the jab. That might have worked years ago, but not now.

“He got sacked. First they threw him out of his position, and in the same moment they tried to arrest him. For leaking plans to the ASN.”

Jellico fired? Impossible. But then, it would explain the shuffling of ships. Another realization dawned on him. With Jellico gone, this war would turn ugly fast.

Sure, Admiral Georgiou is still a cooler head on their side, but if we begin to shoot to kill, so will they.

In his head, Botha saw the first FTL projectiles impact Earth.

“Alice, did they get him? And are you safe?”

The crying became a bit quieter. “I’m with my family, and Ed has disappeared. What’s happening? Why—”

“Alice, everything will be fine. Can you leave Earth? I’m afraid it won’t be safe there for you.”

“Ed said the same, but where should I go?”

Botha thought about it for a second.

“Venus. I have friends there. I’ll call them and arrange everything. Take your parents with you.”

“Thank you, Pieter… and—”

“I’ll call you later. Goodbye.”

As he closed the line, another thought crossed his mind.

You’re next…