Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 3

  All concerns for order aside, Wong still watched as the admiral strode across the command deck. A civilian might have considered the deck to be dark and foreboding, with most of the illumination provided by the holographic displays and command screens of the various stations. Wong saw the deck more as a chapel of war, with the main tactical plot hovering high above the deck and rows of glowing watchstander positions marching up either side. His own station remained at the very front of the deck, settled on the starboard side, where he could watch the activity of his subordinates or observe the main plot without obstruction. Abackup command station occupied the other side, where his second-in-command could work as well.

  Admiral Nevlin inspected the bridge as if it were his personal domain—which, for the foreseeable future, it practically was. The DDS Imperious was the largest vessel among the ships of their new task force. A Supernova-class carrier, the Imperious had served as the center of half a dozen strikes into Wild Colony territory, and twice as many stalwart defensive operations. Captain Wong himself had fought in many of those engagements as her commanding officer, and had served many times as the flag officer for the operational commander. His ship was the obvious choice for a task force flagship.

  Of course, Wong wondered what mission had convinced the Directorate of Defense to draw warships away from the front lines. The war had not been so calm that the Known Worlds could take their defenses lightly. Already the Wild Colonies were probing their lines, looking for a gap in the border fortifications. Another all-out assault by their enemies was imminent.

  The situation had to be a delicate one. Admiral Nevlin was reportedly going about, gathering the vessels personally. It was a mark of honor to be considered for such a mission, and it would be a greater honor to be selected as the flag. Whatever the mission, Wong knew he would be equal to the task. He had worked too hard and loved his people too much to let them down—and the chance to serve as flag captain to the Hero of Riaskat was an incredible opportunity.

  Admiral Nevlin had not changed much since his historic victory over the Riaskat pirates. Wong remembered that he had seemed a little thinner then, and the recruiting posters had not shown so many age lines on Nevlin’s face. His hair had already been gray during the broadcasts celebrating his victories, and then, just as now, it had seemed carefully styled. An irreverent smile nearly broke through Wong’s professional demeanor. Perhaps the Directorate had been motivated to assign their war hero a personal groomer. The man could hardly act as a recruitment tool if he was a slovenly mess, after all.

  As if he could hear Wong’s innermost thoughts, Admiral Nevlin paused in his inspection of the bridge. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Wong banished all hint of humor to the back of his mind. The last thing he could afford was to appear lax in his duty. His crew was depending on him, and so were those at home who depended on them to provide safety and security.

  Nevlin crossed the bridge to stand in front of Wong, his expression still attentive. The admiral studied him, taking great care to note the medals for heroism Wong had received at Cannae and Rhinesworld. Then Nevlin met his eyes and smiled. “Captain Wong, it appears the Directorate’s praise for you and your crew was entirely well deserved. Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the flag deck?”

  “Yes, sir.” Wong bowed slightly and looked to his second-in-command, Commander Serene Hummel. “Commander, the bridge is yours.”

  Hummel nodded, a hint of concern touching her eyes. Wong gave her a reassuring nod. They had worked very closely in the year that she had served on the Imperious, and he had every confidence in her ability to handle any possible situation while he and the admiral were off the bridge. Yet he could not suppress an uncharacteristic feeling of nervousness as he followed Admiral Nevlin out the door and toward the flag deck, which was stationed behind and above his own command station.

  As Wong entered the flag deck and closed the door behind him, Admiral Nevlin seated himself comfortably in the main command chair. From that position, the admiral would be able to monitor and oversee any activity not only on the Imperious, but on any ship that had tied in to the command net for the task force. The admiral toyed with the controls for a moment, focusing on this detail and that, before he turned back to Wong. Nevlin did not offer him the opportunity to take a seat of his own.

  When Nevlin spoke, his voice was firm. “Captain Wong, I am assembling a task force on behalf of the Council. Do you believe that the Imperious is ready to serve as the flagship of that task force?”

  Wong did not let a single iota of doubt enter his response. “I do, sir. This ship and her crew are ready to serve wherever the Known Worlds asks us to serve.”

  “Good.” Nevlin turned and touched a control at the station, bringing up a map of the Known Worlds territory. The admiral gestured to their current position. “Our mission will take us far from the front lines, Captain. Using the resonance gate network, we will move from here, on the border . . . ” He pointed to another star. “. . . to Eris, the last place our enemy was seen. From there, we will begin Operation Broken Halo, as instructed by the Directorate.”

  Nevlin’s features grew serious. “Our mission is an important one. Surely even here you have heard of the treachery that struck Eris.” The admiral waited until Wong nodded. It was hard to keep a snarl from forming on his face. Nevlin continued. “Two months ago, the Wayfarers used an illegal fleet of ships to take control of the DDS Concord, destroying two Directorate cruisers in the process. When the Council warned them of the penalties for their crimes, they chose to attack the Guard facilities on Eris with bombardment projectiles. The Eris Guard was massacred in a surprise attack, and the Defense Station there struck the capital. Casualties are estimated to be in the millions.”

  Wong let some of his hatred seep into his voice. “We would be happy to hunt these traitors down, Admiral. Only give us our orders, and we will find these people and destroy them.”

  His words brought a smile to Nevlin’s face. “Excellent. I would expect nothing less from you, Captain.” Then his expression grew solemn again. “I wish the situation were so cut-and-dried.”

  Something in his voice brought Wong up short. He heard regret in the words, but there was some other emotion lurking behind them. If it had been anyone else, Wong would have said that they were insincere, that the regret was a false front for a man secretly pleased with the situation. Yet this man was the Hero of Riaskat, and Wong tried to quash those suspicions while he waited for an explanation.

  When Wong remained silent, Admiral Nevlin sighed. “You see, it is not such a surprise that the Wayfarers betrayed us. Their supposed prophet has been preaching sedition for months, if not years, and their efforts on behalf of our enemies have long since made it clear what side they were on.” The admiral shook his head. “Ironic, that. The Known Worlds was their only hope for survival against the forces of the Wild Colonies, yet they still turned against us. Perhaps if we decide to take prisoners, they can explain it to us.

  “They were not the only traitors, however.” Nevlin paused, and Wong felt ice grow in his gut. “A former Directorate officer was supposedly in charge of their ‘defense fleet’, and it has been confirmed that she was part of the group that took the Concord.” The admiral met his gaze. “We will be hunting one of our own, Captain, and we must kill her.”

  Wong felt a fresh burst of hatred for the traitors, tempered now by the knowledge that one of the Directorate’s own had stabbed them in the back. He forced words to come, trying to restrain his rage. “Who was she, sir? Who?”

  Nevlin shook his head. “Her name was Susan Delacourt.” Then he laughed, a somewhat self-deprecating sound. “She was actually a tactical officer from the Victorious. We served together during the Riaskat campaign. Can you believe that?”

  Shock now followed rage, and Wong felt himself shaken. A veteran of the Hero’s own command, now a traitor? It was unthinkable. “Did—did you know her well, sir?”

  The admiral shrugged. “Not really. She may
have learned a little from me during that campaign; in fact, I remember that she showed such promise. I understand she was later discharged for psychiatric reasons. Perhaps that explains it.” Nevlin’s eyes flickered, and then he sighed deeply. “How tragic. She was once part of the Directorate, an officer who served among us. Now, she has obviously fallen in with these treacherous fools, and the blame for the deaths of those brave citizens and soldiers on Eris can be laid at her feet. This betrayal must be answered for, and rest assured, I will see this Susan Delacourt dead.”

  Wong shook his head. It was indeed tragic, as the admiral had said. Many of the veterans of the Riaskat campaign had proclaimed their survival a miracle. To have survived such things, and then to have turned against the Known Worlds, was beyond Wong’s understanding.

  Yet whatever the cause, the end result would be the same. Wong would permit no other result. He bowed slightly. “You will, sir. And we will be there with you.” He straightened and gave the admiral a hard smile. “I swear it.”

  Susan looked up from the report and raised an eyebrow. “Another riot?”

  Commander Mesic coughed into his hand. The expression on his face told a story all its own. Like her, the commander had once been a member of the Directorate of Defense. As such, he was less than impressed by the lack of discipline in the Wayfarer fleet. He refrained from any comments to that effect, however, and glanced around the bridge to make sure no gossiping junior officers were listening in. “Apparently there was something of a disturbance aboard the Charitable Heart, Admiral, but it fell short of a full riot. The local police force disbursed the crowd before they could cause more trouble.”

  Susan nodded, still disturbed by the news. It was not the only sign of restlessness aboard the ships of the fleet. Indeed, it would have been nothing to worry about if it was an isolated incident, but Susan knew of other problems as well. She continued to read. “The Wandering Stranger is still reporting shortages of food supplies. I had thought the Harvest would resupply her stores.”

  Mesic shook his head. “The Harvest has been busy with other priorities among the rest of the Defense Forces. They should be able to rendezvous with the Wandering Stranger shortly, as they had reported.”

  “At least the Salvation managed to uncover the smugglers who were breaking into their storage areas.” Susan shook her head. She’d expected a few crooks among the Wayfarers, but these particular ones had quite a lot of audacity to attempt to steal the food right out from under the military’s nose. As she read on, there were other small signs of fatigue and shortages, requests for fuel and breakdowns of discipline. They were canaries in the coal mine, warning of trouble to come, but the crisis was not yet upon them.

  All the same, that fact did not keep Susan’s frustration from coming to a boil. Returning the report to Mesic, she tried to keep her voice even. “And the mercenaries?”

  Mesic looked momentarily uncomfortable. “No further problems, sir. Colonel McCalister reports that he has all three vessels under control, and that none of them have attempted any sort of insurrection. In fact, he believes that the incidents are just the result of prisoners fighting amongst themselves, not some attempt to revolt.”

  “Good. Tell him to stay alert for any signs of that, though.” It wasn’t as if Susan was worried that a revolt would be successful. She’d put all three of the captured Bennett Securities ships—two modified cruisers and an escort carrier—under the Deliverance’s guns, and she’d stationed Wayfarer troops aboard them to keep the prisoners in line. Their shields were locked down, and only a highly complex code transmitted from the Concord would restore them. All three could be destroyed the moment Susan gave the order, and none of the former mercenaries on board those ships would forget it.

  The debate still raged over how to handle their former foes, and Susan herself was unsure of what to do. Her fleet could use the ships if they somehow dealt with their former crews; another carrier and multiple combat craft would be welcome additions to the fleet. At the same time, the mercenaries themselves were a nuisance she would have gladly done without. They would present a constant risk of mutiny, sabotage, or a thousand other treacheries. If they remained on board the warships, the risks would be bad enough. If she dispersed the prisoners throughout the military, or worse, the civilian fleet, the threat of mutiny would only multiply—as if there wasn’t enough risk of that already.

  Shaking her head over that problem, she turned away from Commander Mesic and looked out over the rest of the fleet.

  The bridge of the Concord allowed her to take in that view at a glance. When the carrier had been built, projection technology had not been nearly as effective or efficient as it was in later decades. As a result, the bridge provided for a large open space taken up by a magnificent projector system which displayed the entire fleet at once. Whether or not they had a final destination, the great fleet was an incredible sight.

  Ships of every size and shape glided around the Concord, their smaller shapes huddled close behind the military ships which could provide them with protection. Around them, like sheepdogs watching a flock, the various escort craft and cruisers of the Wayfarer Defense Force swept through their patrols. Rigs flitted here and there, supplying more accurate information on their surroundings and keeping watch for intruders or ambushers, and Susan nodded in approval at their ordered movements. Just weeks ago, she had considered the ships under her command a disorganized rabble, but now she felt pride seeing them attend to their duties as guardians of their people.

  The civilian ships were far less admirable. Many of them displayed little in the way of course discipline, occasionally wandering too close to one another and forcing one craft to maneuver to avoid a collision. Some of the smaller ships sometimes raced ahead of the others until a warning from a Defense Force ship shepherded them back into position, while others engaged in some idle acrobatics, rolling and twisting within the bowels of the fleet. Still other ships were struggling onward in spite of damage, with repair crews already at work on their hulls. None of them inspired much confidence in her, and she worried that their lax behavior might undo much of the work she had done to train her crews.

  Susan sighed and turned back to Mesic. She tried to smother her unhappy expression, but Mesic appeared to notice it regardless of her efforts. He glanced at the main projection and added his own slight frown before he spoke.

  “One last thing, Admiral. We’ve received word from the Advisors’ Council. They are requesting that you join them on board the Summer Rain at your earliest opportunity.”

  Susan nodded. She’d been expecting another summons; perhaps her talk with Elder Miller had managed to bear fruit. If not, at the very least some of the less-admiring voices on the Council were likely going to take the opportunity to emphasize where her authority ended and theirs began. For a lot of religious men, the Council seemed to have its own internal conflicts with reliable frequency. Without any trace of the annoyance she was feeling, she responded loud enough for the rest of the bridge crew to hear.

  “Very good, Commander Mesic. I expect we shall be receiving some instructions from the Council very soon.” There was a subtle drop in background chatter as she spoke, which instantly picked up again when she finished. Susan nodded to herself inwardly; hopefully the rumor mill would generate expectations for action in the near future. At the very least, she hoped the Council would be planning another resonance burst to a new system—leaving behind this forsaken place at last.

  Otherwise, the meeting promised to be a very, very long one.

  “What do you mean it can’t exist?”

  Gabe tried to say the words without showing his exasperation with the analyst in front of him, but he didn’t quite succeed. The technician’s lips quirked a little, as if she was acknowledging the half-hidden emotion behind his words, and then shook her head resolutely.

  “I mean just what I said. I don’t know how you rig pilots came up with these readings, but there is no possibility that what you claim to h
ave seen out there could be real.”

  Incredulous, Gabe leaned back. He exchanged a look with Allen, who’d come down to the Concord’s military intelligence section with him to examine his rig’s records. They hadn’t been given a very warm reception thus far. Again, Gabe tried to moderate his frustration. “Look, you’re telling me that even with the testimonies—and unmodified sensor records—of four CTR pilots to back up this sighting, you’re still not going to acknowledge it?” His anger flared as the tech met his eyes and nodded. “Why not?”

  She waved the question away irritably. “Because it would be a waste of our time. We can’t afford to be diverted just because of some stupid prank by a bunch of bored rig pilots.”

  When Gabe simply stared at her, struggling to contain a burst of indignant rage, the tech sighed and continued. “Captain Miller, perhaps you haven’t been aware of it, but the intelligence center has been responsible for every report generated by the rig patrols since we reached this system. In that time, we’ve collected reports of …” She trailed off for a moment, rummaging through a series of files on her console. “Here we are. We’ve had reports of a giant space turtle with an elephant on its back, three separate reports of space elves living on asteroids, two reports of floating extraterrestrial octopi, and a rather detailed story about an alien ship made of tofu called Scrappy. You’d think we were a publishing agency.”

  The tech looked up. “I’m well aware of what rig pilots can come up with when they’re bored, Captain Miller. We see this kind of stuff all the time—the examples I gave you are just the icing on the cake.” She waved a negligent hand at the display which showed the strange, slender rig. “I’ll admit that you win points for thoroughness and ingenuity—no one else besides the Scrappy guy thought to alter sensor data or fake transmissions, and he was far more obvious about it—but that doesn’t mean we will treat your tall tale with any more seriousness. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”