CLARKE
The kinetic rounds headed toward Dione, faster than any manned ship could expect to go.
A terrible silence had befallen the bridge of the Hawk, a kind of panicked expectation that was present in disasters that could be seen from miles away but left people powerless to stop them. Train crashes, tsunamis, earthquakes, reactor meltdowns. Kinetic rounds fired from a military ship against an inhabited colony.
“Reiner help us all,” someone pleaded on the bridge’s channel.
People would see the kinetics as they approached. Some of the Outlander’s ships that were ready for departure might be able to make it out in time, but it’d be too late for most people. It’d seem like fiery stars growing by the minute, exponentially, while the newscasters tried to assure the panicking population that everything was under control. Perhaps they’d try to blame the EIF for Vortex’s sins.
The stars would become white-hot fireballs, chunks of molten metal accelerated to relativistic speeds by oryza and human inventiveness. Dione’s atmosphere would be set alight by the blast, and few would live to see the following explosion.
Clarke made an effort to pull himself together, to shove away the visions of Dione’s doom.
It hasn’t happened, he told himself. Not yet. Not while I can do something about it.
“Everyone, pull yourself together. Our people need us, and we’re not going to let them die today,” he announced to the public channel. “Commander Alicante, get Sierra-1’s targeting lasers on those kinetics. We’re going to deflect them.”
“Understood,” Alicante said crisply. Clarke switched to Sierra-1’s command line.
He found Pascari in the middle of some select words with Captain Rehman.
“Suggest once again that we retreat, Rehman, and I swear on my father’s tomb I’ll have you hanged—”
“There’s no point in staying to die if Reiner doesn’t make it out is all I’m saying,” Rehman said. “Sentinel’s on their way as we speak, even if we survive Vortex-1, we’ll run out of the system with our tails between our legs.”
“No one’s running,” Clarke said, his voice low and dark. “Sierra-1’s going for the intercept.”
“Of course we are,” said Pascari with confidence scratching arrogance. “We aren’t going to stay and let them kill a planet.”
That’s the spirit, Clarke agreed.
“Have you gone insane?” Captain Rehman asked. “Intercept? There’s two kinetics, and Eagle’s blind. Do you want me to tell you the odds of making two shots like those? Even if we make it, we’ll be wide open to an attack by Vortex-1’s cannons! They haven’t shot a single cannon volley so far, Captain, and I think you should have realized why!”
“Rehman,” Clarke said, “I know. We all know. We’re still going for the deflect. Let Erickson’s cannons find their target, or not. Our only concern is saving that planet.”
“What for? We stop the rounds, then Erickson kills us, and destroys the planet again! Are you all blind? Here’s an alternative; we ignore the shots and let Dove and Crow intercept them. They’ve more time to aim, they’ve a better chance at getting them.”
“Rehman, you should know when to shut your damn mouth,” said Commander Mather. She sounded as agitated as Clarke felt. “Sierra-2 is that planet’s last line of defense, not a tactical choice! They’re there to stop them if we miss, we can’t drop millions of lives in their shoulders and hope for the best.”
If Task Force Sierra had been the Defense Fleet, with their rules and regulations regarding hierarchy, Clarke would’ve had Rehman deposed by Falcon’s marines detachment. Right now, he considered doing it anyway.
“It’s not logically sound to sacrifice ourselves, Dove and Crow could deflect the hit! Why risk our entire future on gallantry?” Rehman asked.
Clarke had had just about enough of the man.
“Because then Erickson will just shoot again!” Clarke exclaimed. “This is an army’s purpose, Rehman; we’re supposed to run in the bullets’ way the instant they start flying toward the innocent. We’re supposed to be a shield, not a sword, and the reason I’m here fighting the Defense Fleet is because they forgot that principle! I won’t forget it myself. If we want the people to ever see us as their protectors, as the legitimate defenders of the Edge, we need to prove to them we’re worthy of their faith. If we want them to put their lives in our hands, we must show we won’t take their lives lightly. A warrior’s job is not to perform the smartest maneuver, or kill the biggest number of enemies. Sometimes, all that’s required of us is to stare down the firing squad and tell them that, after their bullets are done with us, the people we represent will still be standing!”
The line cracked with static for a few seconds. Precious silence. Clarke tried to control his heartbeat and wondered if he’d gone too far.
“Well said, Captain,” Commander Mather said. “Well said indeed.”
Rehman made another attempt. If he’d even heard Clarke’s words, he gave no signs of it. “I don’t—”
“Enough,” Clarke interrupted. “This is my decision as commander of this force. Follow my orders or don’t, Rehman, but if you refuse, I’ll have you hanged for treason. This is a navy, not a high-school.”
It wasn’t an idle threat. When the lives of so many hanged in the balance, Clarke had no intentions of wasting time arguing with Captain Rehman.
At that moment, Commander Alicante joined the line. “We’ve a firing solution, sending it to Falcon and Eagle as we speak.”
Commander Mather’s relieved exhalation reached Clarke all the way from Eagle’s bridge. “Finally,” she said.
Rehman, wisely, kept quiet.
Clarke read the computer’s plan. They’d launch their own kinetics. To aim, the three members of Sierra-1 would leave their broadsides wide open to fire from Vortex-1. No way Sierra-1’s escorts could handle the entire defensive duty.
“Very well,” Clarke broadcast to both public and commanding channels. “This is Captain Clarke speaking. The deflection protocol should appear on everyone’s holos about…now. Study it carefully, but don’t delay, we’ve a time limit. We’ll only get one shot at this, people, so be careful with our systems. I want everyone ready for some heavy defense and counter-attack measures immediately after firing kinetics. The people of Dione are counting on us. Let’s not disappoint them.”
Hawk’s bridge became a flurry of activity after that. The destroyer’s crew, even though Clarke couldn’t see them, were working as one greased machine to ensure the deflection would go smoothly.
Clarke’s back was so filled with tension that he barely felt the pull of the g-force. He wished he could do more. That he could go down to engineering and help them with the repairs and maintenance. To just sit on the bridge, watching Alicante and his officers coordinate the ship without his help, made him feel redundant.
Navathe joined a private chat with him. “So, this is it, isn’t it? The next few minutes are about to suck a great deal of ass for us.”
“Wish I could say otherwise,” said Clarke.
“You know? You should have deposed that man, Rehman, just in case. I don’t think his heart is in this fight. He’s more concerned with saving his hide.”
“Maybe,” Clarke said. “But Falcon’s crew isn’t. We must trust them, Navathe. We can’t afford not to.”
THE THREE DESTROYERS assumed position in coordinated harmony, fast by the standards of space combat, but nail-bitingly slow for the humans aboard. Clarke’s eyes never left his holo in all that time, all his attention pouring on the constant updates that Alicante fed him.