Rumors of Glory (The System States Rebellion Book 1) (5 page)

He saw Captain Obrist start walking towards him, and
while he waited, Janicot took a quick glance at the main display. Those three
ships were still moving closer to the planet.

“Did they acknowledge our minimum altitude directive?”
asked Janicot.

“No, sir. No further communications at all. They seem to
be maintaining their approach for a low orbit, sir.”

“Hmm. Is the Presi—is the Chancellor on his way here?”

“Yes, sir. He should be arriving momentarily, I believe.”

Chancellor Belloc arrived two minutes later. He nodded to
Janicot. “What’s the situation now, Admiral?”

“I don’t like this, Chancellor. They sent three cruisers
in order to discuss our status? Why would they need to send three when one was
sufficient to carry their negotiator here? Add to that the fact that they
haven’t acknowledged our order to maintain a minimum distance from the planet.
If they were intending to comply, they’d be approaching with a shallower flight
profile. It looks to me like they want to get as close as possible, and you
don’t need to do that if you’re only going to talk. You would need to do that
if you intended to conduct an orbital bombardment. I should also tell you that
they’ve started radar scanning, and they’ve detected our missile boats.”

Belloc frowned. “So you think their talk about
negotiating our status is a ruse?”

Janicot nodded. “Yes, sir, and this Operations room is
awfully vulnerable to high explosive missiles. They may try to decapitate our
leadership. The more I think about this, the more I’m convinced that you should
relocate to somewhere else, sir.”

Belloc pondered that for a bit and said, “Maybe I should
head back to my office.”

“They may fire at that too, Chancellor. My suggestion
would be to get out of the city altogether. I can have secure audio
communications set up so that you’d still be in contact with Operations.”

“Well that’s fine for me, but if they’re going to fire at
this room, then everyone in it, including you, Admiral, are in danger too.”

“Yes, sir, and that’s why I’ve ordered them to stay at
least a million klicks away. If they fire from that distance, we’ll have plenty
of time to evacuate. Since it doesn’t look like they intend to obey that
directive, I’d like your permission to tell them that if they drop below one
million klicks, we’ll fire on them, sir.”

Belloc looked skeptical. “I’m reluctant to have the SSU
fire the first shot, Admiral.”

Janicot resisted the impulse to remind the Chancellor
that the SSU had already done that by destroying the FED Navy courier ship.
“Threatening to fire is not the same as actually doing it, sir. I doubt very
much that they would risk that if they really intended to negotiate.”

“Very well, Admiral. Send the warning.”

Corvosier stepped up to Stacker and said in a low voice.
“They’ve just repeated their minimum distance order, with a warning that
they’ll fire on us if we drop below it, sir. Those two orbiting ships are the
right size for their system defense boats. If we try to make a low altitude fly
by, those boats will have good firing position on us, sir.”

“If you have a recommendation, Captain, I’m willing to
listen to it,” said Stacker.

Corvosier looked around to make sure that Santiago was
too far away to hear him. “What if we obey their minimum distance directive,
and instead of sending a shuttle with Ms. Santiago onboard, we send a
remotely-piloted shuttle loaded with explosives which we’ll crash into wherever
we think their President is located?”

Stacker smiled. “I like that idea, Captain, even though
it’s a technical violation of my orders, but given their threat to fire on us
if we get too close, I think I can justify this change in the plan. Go ahead
and modify our flight path to take up position over the Capital at their
minimum distance and very quietly make the necessary arrangements for that
shuttle.”

“Yes, sir!”

Janicot’s conversation with Belloc was interrupted by a
status change ping from the main display. The projected path of the three-ship
squadron was flattening out.

Obrist hurried over to the two men. “It looks like
they’re complying with our directive, Admiral,” he said.

Belloc turned to Janicot. “What about that, Admiral? Is
he right?”

Janicot nodded. “It would certainly appear that way,
sir.”

“Then maybe they really are here to negotiate. Perhaps
it’s time that I spoke with their representative by video com.”

Before Janicot could reply, Belloc turned to Obrist and
said, “Captain, see if you can establish two-way visual communications with the
Federation representative.”

“Ah, yes, sir.” Obrist hurried over to the Com station.

“I still don’t like having three FED cruisers over our
heads while the negotiations go on. It wouldn’t surprise me if their
representative tries to intimidate us with those cruisers.”

Belloc smiled and shook his head. “We’ll cross that
bridge if we get to it. You know, Admiral, this just might be a genuine chance
to avoid a military confrontation altogether. Given what’s at stake, I have to
explore that possibility.”

“I know, sir,” said Janicot.

As the image of the Chancellor of the System States Union
dissolved on the main display, Santiago turned to Stacker and smiled. “Well
there you go, Commodore. Chancellor Belloc will be waiting to greet me at the
spaceport when I land. How soon can my shuttle be ready to leave?”

Stacker looked over Santiago’s shoulder at Corvosier and
nodded. Coral Sea’s CO then turned and gestured to the two armed marines who
had quietly appeared on the Bridge. They came over to stand behind Santiago,
who was still waiting for Stacker to reply.

“There’s been a change in plans, Ms. Santiago. You won’t
be going down to the surface after all. These marines will escort you to your
quarters, and they’ll make sure that you remain there,” said Stacker. He
stepped back, and before a shocked Santiago could protest, the two marines
grabbed her by the arms and pulled her towards the exit. Her outraged cries
were cut off when the sliding metal door closed behind her. Stacker strolled
over to where Corvosier was standing.

“How soon before the shuttle’s ready, Captain?”

“It’ll be another half hour at least, sir. We’ve
discovered a complication. Our shuttle pilots remembered that Sparta is one of
the few planets that have automated landing systems that remotely pilot ships
and smaller craft the last few kilometers. If we refuse to turn over control of
the shuttle to their landing system, they’re bound to get suspicious, but we’ve
come up with a way to turn that to our advantage. We let them take control of
the shuttle, but when it drops below a preset altitude, the explosives will
detonate, turning the shuttle into a cloud of shrapnel that should be lethal
for quite a large radius. If the Chancellor is waiting near the landing pad,
then there’s a good chance the blast will kill him.”

“Hmm. It’s an interesting idea, but now that I think it
through, I can see another potential problem. Ground personnel will be
communicating with the shuttle’s pilot, except there won’t be one. If we set it
up so that the shuttle relays ground transmissions to us and then relays our
response back to the ground controllers, they’re bound to notice the seven plus
seconds delay. It’ll only take one person figuring out why the lag time exists
to blow the lid off the operation. We need to figure a way around that,” said
Stacker. Both men said nothing for a while as they pondered the problem.

“I don’t suppose one of our shuttle pilots would be
willing to go on a suicide mission?” asked Stacker in a tone that was only half
rhetorical.

“No, sir. However…if the pilot had a way of evacuating
the shuttle before it exploded, then I’m sure we could find one volunteer. Our
standard shuttles don’t have escape pods for the flight crew, but our assault
shuttles do. If the pilot takes an assault shuttle loaded with explosives and
lets ground control pilot the craft to a landing, then he can wait until he
sees the Chancellor get within lethal range before setting the timer for the
explosives. He’ll set it for just long enough for him to use his escape pod to
get far enough away to survive the blast. Naturally he’ll be captured, but
he’ll be instructed to tell his captors that we will treat any of their people
we capture well, and that we expect the same from them,” said Corvosier.

“You don’t think their people will think it strange that
an envoy is coming down on an assault shuttle?” asked Stacker.

Corvosier shrugged. “It’ll still be dark by the time the
shuttle lands. They won’t notice that it’s an assault shuttle until just before
it lands and maybe not even then. Most of the telltale differences can only be
seen in daylight.”

“That might work, but what about the shuttle’s
transponder? Assault shuttles have a very distinctive transponder id. Can we
change that without it taking too long?” asked Stacker.

“I believe we can, but I’ll find out for sure,
Commodore.”

“Good. While you’re doing that, have all the shuttle
pilots meet me in the Flight Ready Room in five minutes. If we can’t find a
volunteer, then the transponder id change is moot anyway.”

It was actually almost fifteen minutes before Stacker and
Corvosier stepped into the Ready Room. The delay was caused by arrangements to
have Stacker’s briefing transmitted to the shuttle pilots in the other two
cruisers at the same time. The chatter between pilots quickly died down to
nothing as Stacker took up his position at the front with his hands on his hips
and his feet further apart than usual. He considered it his gunslinger stance.
Corvosier stood to his right and a half step back.

“As you all know, we’re in orbit around the capital
planet of what they’re calling the System States Union. What you won’t know is
that I have secret orders to attempt to decapitate the leadership of the SSU if
at all possible. A direct attack by missiles is out of the question because the
Spartans have told us to maintain a distance of one million kilometers.
However, we’ve come up with another plan, and it requires a volunteer shuttle
pilot. There is some risk of physical injury, but the chances of surviving the
operation are high. This is NOT a suicide mission. That said, there is a
virtual certainty that whoever volunteers for this mission will be captured by
the SSU and held as a prisoner until the SSU is defeated or an exchange of
prisoners can be arranged, whichever comes first. Therefore I’m only going to
ask for volunteers from individuals who are unattached and without dependents.
If this operation succeeds, there is a chance that the whole SSU house of cards
will collapse, and the pilot who volunteers will become famous for his or her
daring and devotion to duty. I can’t promise a promotion as an incentive for
volunteering, but I will promise to push for that promotion as hard as I can.
And in case it makes a difference, the volunteer’s pay will accumulate for the
duration of being a POW. I can also pretty much guarantee a medal that will impress
the hell out of navy personnel and civilians alike. This briefing is being
transmitted to your peers on the other two ships. Whoever volunteers first will
get the nod. Any quest—“ Stacker stopped speaking when he saw a female pilot
put her hand up.

“Lieutenant Remington,” said Stacker.

“I’ll volunteer, sir.”

Stacker looked at Corvosier, who was smiling, and nodded
back.

“Very good, Lieutenant. Captain Corvosier will brief you
on the details. The rest of you are dismissed.” Turning to Corvosier, Stacker
said, “Get her ready fast, Captain. We’re running out of time.”

Yes, sir.”

It took almost another half hour to get everything ready.
As the assault shuttle launched, Stacker looked over to Corvosier and nodded.
The CO turned to the Communications Station on the Bridge and said, “Advise
their Operations people that our envoy is on the way down and that we’ll be
moving out to beyond the hyper-zone to minimize the risk of any unintentional
provocative actions.”

 “That’s very strange,” said Janicot.

Belloc looked up from the data tablet he was reading.
“What’s strange?” he asked.

Janicot pointed to the main display. “Their ships are
gaining altitude even though we didn’t tell them to.”

Before either man could say more, Obrist came up to them.
“They said they’re moving higher because they want to minimize the risk of
provocative actions.”

“Well, that’s very considerate of them, don’t you think,
Admiral?” asked Belloc.

“I’d be happier if they would just stay where we tell
them to stay, sir. How long before that shuttle lands, Captain?”

Obrist looked over his shoulder at something and said,
“Roughly 55 minutes, Admiral.”

“Okay. Make sure that pilot gives us control when they’re
ready for their final approach. If he refuses to give up control, then tell him
we’ll fire on him if he doesn’t comply.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it personally, sir.” Obrist left,
and Janicot turned back to Belloc.

“Fifty-five minutes will give me just enough time to get
back home, change into something more official looking and get back here. Let
me know if something unexpected comes up,” said Belloc.

“Will do, Chancellor.” Belloc nodded and turned to go.

Remember the sequence,
thought
Remington as the shuttle broke through the cloud cover. She could see the
spaceport lights up ahead.
Arm the escape pod launch system, then set the
timer, then eject the pod.
Not complicated if she did it in the right
order. If she did it in the wrong order, then she’d be royally fucked. The
timer had to be set to give her six seconds for the escape pod to accelerate
far enough away to avoid damage from the blast. The armaments people on the
ship had assured her that six seconds was plenty of time, but she wasn’t so
sure of that after seeing the entire cargo compartment filled to the rafters
with wired warheads taken off anti-ship missiles. That was a lot of explosive
potential back there.

“Aerospace Control to NS089. Switch to remote landing
control on my mark. Three…two…one…mark.”

Remington activated the option to enable the shuttle’s
auto-pilot to accept commands from Sparta Aerospace Control and took her hands
off the controls. The shuttle banked gently as a test of the landing system and
quickly came back on course for the spaceport.

“NS089 to AC. You have control now,” she said.

“Control acknowledged. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

The voice of the ground controller was surprisingly
friendly, considering the tension between their respective governments. She
realized her hands were shaking.
Must be from the adrenaline rush. Okay,
remember the sequence. First arm the system, then the timer, then eject. Six
seconds. God I hope that’s enough. What if it’s not enough? The missile pukes
could be wrong about that. Maybe I should set it for eight.

The shuttle was coming in for a gentle vertical landing
now. She could see the main spaceport building clearly. There were a dozen
vehicles of various types not too far away. She looked closer to try to
identify which vehicle the SSU Chancellor might be in. It was still dark and
the vehicles being black didn’t help.

She felt the shuttle touch down and heard Aerospace
Control say, “Aerospace Control to NS089. We are shutting down your engines.
You may resume control of your vehicle. Welcome to Sparta.”

“Thank you, AC,” was all she said. She switched the
auto-pilot back to internal control and looked out the cockpit window again.
Two vehicles were coming closer, and one of them definitely looked like the
kind of luxury vehicle a VIP would use. The other one looked like it would
carry the Chancellor’s security detail.

Both vehicles stopped about twenty meters away, and half
a dozen armed men emerged from the security vehicle. They took up their
position near the limo, and when they were ready, one of them opened the limo
door and a well-dressed man, whose face matched the picture that Remington was
shown before leaving the ship, got out.

That’s him! Damn! He’s not coming any closer.
I guess it’s show time. Remember the sequence.
She
carefully armed the escape pod ejection system, and when she was sure it was
ready, she reached for the detonation timer. She turned the knob until the
readout said six seconds. It would start to countdown as soon as she let go of
the knob. Her hand froze for several seconds as she pondered whether to leave
it at six or change it. She made up her mind and changed the setting to eight
seconds and let go of the knob. She immediately used her other hand to activate
the ejection system.

Janicot was watching the shuttle land on the main
display, which also showed the video feed from the helmet cameras of the six
base security personnel. It only took seconds for the security people to emerge
from their vehicle and line up three on either side of limo door where Belloc
would get out. When Belloc emerged and waited, all six helmet cameras swung
around to look at the shuttle.

Janicot jumped in surprise when the top of the shuttle’s
pilot compartment flew off with a bang, immediately followed by an object emerging
from the shuttle and rapidly ascending into the air.

Janicot activated his boom mic and yelled, “GET HIM IN
THE LIMO! GET HIM IN THE LIMO FOR GODSAKES!” One of the security people turned
and pushed Belloc towards the still open limo door. Janicot looked up at the
main video feed showing the shuttle as seen from a camera mounted on the main
spaceport building. The shuttle exploded so violently that the camera was
disabled even though it was over a hundred meters away. He was about to speak
again when the main display pinged and the image switched back to the tactical
data showing the location of the FED cruisers. They had just gone to maximum
acceleration.