He could see the doubtful expressions of his staff, and he could only imagine those on the captains listening on their bridges. He realized he needed to approach this on a different level. “As some of you may know, Augustus Garret and I attended the Naval Academy together. We served together, first as officers on the same ship, later as captains of vessels in the same squadron.” He turned casually as he spoke, constantly observing the officers standing around him. Good, he thought. Personalizing this is making more of an impression. “He is my closest friend as well as my commander. I would follow Admiral Garret’s orders if they were to set a course for hell itself…as long as I knew they were his legitimate commands.”
There was a ripple of mutterings through those assembled, barely audible, but real nonetheless. At least they are listening, he thought. “Many of you have served with me for years. Does anyone here doubt my motives? My loyalties? Is there anyone here who truly believes me disloyal to Admiral Garret?”
He could see the confused, undecided looks on their faces. They had seen the message, yet they could not imagine Admiral Compton as a traitor or mutineer. Had the communiqué come from anyone with less stature than Admiral Garret, they would all have discounted it out of hand. But Augustus Garret was a legend…he was the navy. And they had seen him reading the order himself.
“Listen again to the transmission.” Compton knew he was gambling here. Showing the navy’s hero denouncing him again was a risky move, even if they had all seen it already. “Joker, replay the communication on fleetcom.”
The viewscreen had been displaying fleet deployments, but they disappeared, replaced by a solid blue background with the Alliance Seal in the center. After a few seconds, an image appeared…the image of Augustus Garret, seated at his desk. Garret’s expression was grim, his voice ominous.
“This order is sent to all personnel of command rank on the AS Bunker Hill and other ships of the Second Fleet.” Garret stared directly out from the screen, almost motionless as he spoke. “It is with the deepest regret and heartfelt sorrow that I must issue these commands.” It was Garret on the screen, or at least it looked just like him.
“I hereby order that Admiral Terrance Compton is relieved of command of the Second Fleet…” Garret was still looking straight ahead as he spoke. “…he is hereby stripped of all rank…” His voice was firm and steady, devoid of emotion. “…and I order that he be arrested at once and held in solitary confinement until such time as duly authorized personnel arrive to transport him back to Earth to stand trial.”
Compton glanced around the room. Maybe, he hoped…just maybe showing the order again is helping. The image on the screen looked like Garret, but anyone who knew the admiral…anyone who really knew him…could tell how unlike him this was. At least that’s what Compton was betting on.
“Admiral Compton has willfully disobeyed a Priority One order to aid and assist Alliance forces currently engaged in combat on the planet Columbia. His actions have resulted in the needless deaths of Alliance military personnel.” Garret’s voice remained steady, almost monotone. “Admiral Harmon is hereby ordered to take command of Second Fleet and to carry out the Priority One orders previously issued to Admiral Compton.” Garret paused, though he remained stationary, sitting almost at attention. “I have forwarded a copy of those orders to Admiral Harmon.”
He paused again, as if what he was saying was difficult for him, but when he continued his voice was still deadpan, unemotional. “This order is not easy for me to issue, and I understand that it may not be easy for Admiral Harmon and the rest of the officers of Second Fleet to obey. But our duty is clear. Garret out.” The screen faded to the blue background with the Alliance seal.
Compton panned around the room, pausing for an instant as he looked at each member of his staff. He could see the conflict and confusion in their expressions. “I am now going to share the contents of the Priority One order in question.” His voice was strong and clear. He was past worrying about this – he had chosen the right path, the only course that allowed him to live with himself. He’d rather spend the rest of his life in the brig – or be spaced for mutiny – than murder thousands of colonists at the behest of a psychopathic governor drunk on human blood. The die is cast, he thought, and now we’ll see how it plays out.
“I am violating regulations by disclosing this information, however the situation is one that I feel is unprecedented.” He turned slowly, still moving his eyes from officer to officer. “We were ordered to proceed to this system and provide any support requested by Governor Cooper. I followed that order to the letter, moving the fleet here at maximum speed and granting the governor’s requests. We have provided scanning support and deployed observation satellites as directed by the governor’s office.”
Compton felt strangely calm. For weeks he’d been dreading this moment, thinking about it, thrashing sleeplessly at night with worry. Now he felt relief; he didn’t know what would happen, but whatever it was, he vastly preferred action to waiting in anticipation.
“However, the governor requested that we launch a saturation bombardment of inhabited areas of the planetary surface with nuclear weapons.” Compton paused. Let them chew on that for a few seconds, he thought. “I was not provided with specific military targets; I was asked to carpet bomb a widespread area, an operation that would have caused thousands of civilian casualties.”
Compton was getting angry as he spoke. It was unthinkable to him that the Alliance navy would engage in the mass murder of thousands of citizens, and he hated the idea that he was standing here defending himself for not taking such action. “That is an immoral order and one I will not follow.” He was getting somewhere…he could see it in their expressions. “And it is an order that Augustus Garret would never issue. Either these transmissions have been tampered with, or Admiral Garret is under some form of pressure or duress.” It was a wild assertion, one that sounded like a crazy conspiracy theory. The fact that it was, in fact, true didn’t make it sound any more plausible.
There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Finally, a lone voice broke the silence. It was Commander Thomas, a tactical officer who had served with Compton for years. “Sir, I can’t speak for everyone, but for myself, I would never doubt your motives and integrity.” He paused, the tension in his voice apparent. “But how can you…how can we…simply disregard an order from Admiral Garret?”
Compton could feel every eye on the bridge on him. Indeed, most of the senior officers of the fleet were watching him now, waiting for his response. “I maintain that, as extreme as this may sound, Admiral Garret’s office has suffered some type of security breach, and these orders are either fake or the result of some form of duress on the admiral.” He paused then added, “The Augustus Garret I know would never issue these orders.”
He looked around the bridge. He could see the tension, the stress. “I understand that following my orders, backing me in this, puts your careers in jeopardy.” There was no sense ignoring that fact, he thought; they all knew the risks, so he might as well address them. “But to me, any other course of action is unthinkable. I did not give my entire life to the service to end up murdering Alliance citizens.”