“Bullshit!” Lydia screamed. “The destroyer design isn’t fundamentally flawed. They damn near took out the whole Deltan fleet with one ship! If we quit on this design in favor of another version that isn’t even drafted yet, we’re going to be left with nothing. It’s too late for this DC Beltway crap! The Deltans are coming and their intentions are no longer academic. They are the enemy and it’s up to us to build our defense as promised and planned.”
Sykes’ anger appeared in full force. Whatever shame he had felt at seeing the Sword of Liberty destroyed was now buried. “That’s not your decision to make! We may indeed go on with the Sword class destroyers, or we might decide to proceed with the Trenton cruiser. Maybe we’ll do both, with or without releasing the designs to foreign powers, but that’s something that will have to follow the full analysis of this data by my office. And while you may be convinced of the implacable intent of these aliens, I’m not. I don’t fully endorse the way Kelley handled things. I think he was way too hot-headed and trigger happy. He fired the first shot on these Deltans and he was the first one to destroy a ship. For all we know, he took out a ship full of refugees!”
“Damn you, Carl! Open up your eyes. We’ve dragged our feet too long.” Lydia turned to face the President, seated behind her desk. “Madame President, it pains me to have to say this, but if this nation doesn’t do what’s necessary to defend this planet, I’m going to take Windward’s designs and Windward’s technologies to another world power who will listen and do what’s needed, nationalized US property or not. I’m sure I can convince the EU or the Chinese to react.”
Sykes smiled. “That’s it. Go ahead and try, Lydia. It will be my personal pleasure to throw your ass into Leavenworth.”
Tomlinson looked at Lydia’s stern expression and then turned to the Defense Secretary. “Carl?”
Sykes faced her. “Yes, Madame President?”
“Shut the hell up and get out of my office. Your services are no longer required by my administration.”
Sykes’ features turned darker in outrage. “What?”
Tomlinson stood, glaring at him. “You said that ‘her team’ was killed. What you’re forgetting is that every single one of them was a sworn volunteer of the United States Armed Forces. They were our soldiers, my soldiers. It wasn’t her team on that ship, it was the US Aerospace Navy and the United States of America in proxy. We have been attacked by an alien threat, a threat which encompasses this entire planet, and as President I’m going to see their sacrifice made worthwhile.”
Sykes held up his hands. “Madame President, they were drafted as a ploy. Surely—”
“No. You’re done. If you value the bureaucracy you’ve built up more than the lives of the people in our military, then you’re not the soldier you used to be.” Tomlinson turned to Lydia. “Ms. Russ, you have my deepest apologies for the failure of my administration to keep up our end of the bargain, but you have my pledge that that all ends today.
“Our nation is from this moment on a war footing. We will immediately contact our allies and fulfill our agreements for technology transfer, as we should have done long ago. We will indeed analyze the battle and ensure that any necessary design changes are implemented in both the destroyer plans as well as the astrodynamic cruiser version. Also, tomorrow, we will begin completion of the Swords of Justice, Independence, and Freedom. Their crews will be fast-tracked to full readiness, and we will launch all three by year’s end. I guarantee it.
“And in light of what has occurred, it is my intention before the week is out to lay down the hull of our next destroyer … DA-5, the Sword of Vengeance.”
16: “PATRONS”
Date Unknown; USS Sword of Liberty (DA-1), location unknown; Mission Day ???
Nathan Kelley screamed.
Despite the anti-nausea meds, his stomach flopped about, churning with anxious bile, threatening to disgorge its bitter acid up his throat and into his helmet. Cocooned within his Charlie Station pod, he spun chaotically about with the forward half of the ship, but the sickness that prepared to overcome him was only partly due to the motion. There was instead something that concerned him far, far more.
He screamed again. “Kris!!”
She—and ten others—had been aft in the engineering spaces, spaces which were now cut free of the mission hull and whatever remained of the flayed apart radiator spine. He had no hope whatsoever that she could hear him on the general net, but it did not stop his anguished cries.
“Kris! Talk to me, Kris!”
Nathan’s helmet telltales flickered without any sense of order. The battle VR was filled with static, intermittent status bars, and multiple “blue screens of death” from systems cut off from their power source, their networks, and any semblance of connectivity. He could tell nothing about anything. For all he knew, he was the only one left alive aboard either half of the destroyer.
“Damn it, someone answer me! Kris!!”
A piercing whine shot through his ears. He winced and then froze as he heard an acerbic voice reply. “Jesus, Nathan. Would you just shut the fuck up for one minute?”
Nathan smiled desperately. It was Edwards. “COB! It’s damn good to hear your voice. Listen, have you got any data? I lost everything after that beam cut through the ship’s spine. Do you know what’s going on with Engineering?”
“No, Skipper, I don’t, but if you don’t mind me saying it, you need to chill the fuck out. When I got my comms back, all I could hear was your heart bleeding over the damn net, and while I understand it, it’s the last friggin’ thing any of us need right now.”
Nathan said nothing, chastened into silence.
Edwards continued. “I know you’re worried about Kris—and I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re worried about the rest of us too—but she and the other engineers are like concern number twenty-seven on the list I’ve got running through my head. I need you to start with concern one and work your way down it, not the other way around. So, are you gonna captain, Captain, or do I need to cut your air off and let our happy-go-lucky XO take over?”
Nathan opened his mouth to bite back, but he closed it again with an audible snap and allowed himself to think instead of simply reacting. A few moments later, he keyed his mike again. “No, COB, you can keep me breathing. I’m sorry.”
“S’all right, Skipper. Next time we’re half a light-year from home and aliens chop my ship in half, with my sweetie in the wrong half, it’ll be my turn to freak out.”
Nathan chuffed a laugh, despite everything. “Can I at least hope that your little counseling session was on a private channel?”
Edwards’ voice was full of good humor. “Hey, who’s the Master Chief around here? Of course it was. Fact is, all the nets are down. I only heard you after I opened a pod-to-pod channel.
Nathan nodded to himself. “Okay. I don’t know what you had as concern one on that list, but my first proper concern is situational awareness. I’ve got nothing on my VR, and we need to know where we are and what’s going on before we can even start handling things.”
“Roger that, sir. I’m in the same boat.”
“Fine. If the nets are down and pod-to-pod comms are the only thing up, then we need to work through that. Kill the circuit with me and try to raise the XO, have him raise Damage Control Central, then CIC, then Weps, and so on. Work out a phone tree between the pair of you and see who’s still with us and if anything’s still working.”