"Captain Mason, we have a transmission coming in from the Raleigh!"
Darryl frowned. A siege cruiser, modified to act as a forward reconnaissance assigned to the 106th Light Assault Division based out of Juneau, the Raleigh's primary task was SEWACS, Spaceborne Early Warning And Control Systems. The ship had been moving into long-scan range of a rumored Order incursion when contact had been abruptly lost at 0422 Naval Standard Time three days earlier.
Mason's XO, a man by the name of Eric Mathers, spoke up. "Sir, with all due respect, we can't just stage a rescue. Fleet command..." Darryl cut him off. "Fleet couldn't come up with a plan of action in time and you know it." If they were going to go after the Raleigh, it would have to be soon.
Darryl made his decision. "Can you get a fix on the transmission origin and verify its legitimacy?" This was aimed at COMSCAN's Steven Johnson.
"Already done, sir. The transmission is genuine, but it's a bit short to get a fix. The best I've got is somewhere in sector E4. Other than that, it's anybody's guess, sir." Mason nodded and pointed at each station in turn.
"Fighter Control, this is Mason. Recall all orbiting wings and cycle bombers into cradles one and three. Fighters in two, four, and five. Gunnery, place all weapons on standby power. Engineering, I want the weapons power diverted to the cruise engines for immediate startup. Navigation, get us a heading. Juneau Control, this is the Reliant. We're going after the Raleigh."
"Roger that, Reliant. Godspeed. Juneau Control out."
The flight from the New York gate to the sector determined by COMSCAN was uneventful, but tensions were high aboard ship. Once out of cruise, the engine technicians set about restoring power to the turret capacitors. With the guns on standby, she had to rely on orbiting escort craft for protection.
"Fighter Control, get me a half-wing of Upholders in a low orbit as soon as you can put a squadron of Guardians on deck. Pop those sleeping caps off the Solaris, people, I want defensive batteries online." And so the juggernaught woke up as men scrambled to prepare the vessel for any eventuality.
Upon reaching its destination, the giant hangars disgorged waves of snubcraft into defensive positions as the massive antimatter cannons ran through their paces, swinging through unlimbering arcs to check the bearings. All was good aboard the great carrier Reliant as she entered territory unknown, presumed hostile.
"COMSCAN, start your sweeps. See if you can pick up the Raleigh's engine trails. Also, see if you can raise her now that we should be closer." A chorus of "Yes, sir" met his ears, and Darryl walked back to his command console, took his seat, and waited for the first report. It wasn't long in coming.
Johnson looked up and called out "Sir, I've got something matching the Raleigh's signature. No comms yet, but we have a direction. From the looks of it, it got hit pretty hard. Pretty damn hard, if you'll pardon me, sir." Darryl nodded sharply and faced Navigation. "Lock that path in. Helm, take us in on impulse power." "Aye, sir." Hold on, Sarkovski. We're coming. We're coming.
Thirty minutes into the maneuver, Johnson reported a drifting vessel at 288325.2k, or about five kilometers left and down. He didn't look happy, and Darryl knew why. The Raleigh should have been above them, according to the engine trail. Johnson tapped the ensign beside him. "Run a detailed scan on that ship." The ensign nodded and got to work.
Before he could give the scan results, however, Johnson stabbed past him, overrode his console, and brought up a new spatial map on the bridge's main display. "What the hell..." Mason cut the young man off. "He knows what he's doing, Stevens. Carry on, Lieutenant." Johnson ignored them both as he resolved the image and superimposed the Reliant on it.
"This is us," he said, pointing. "And this is the drifter. Probably the Raleigh. Probably. And this," again, pointing. "This is...Damn it, I don't know what it is. It's big, bigger than the Raleigh. Not ice, and it isn't moving. I'm assuming it's a ship of some kind, but it doesn't match any known vessels of Liberty, Kusari, Bretonia, or," he bit his lip. "Rheinland. Could be Order, I suppose, but why would they stay in the area with Reliant around?"
Darryl thought a moment, then reached for the intercom. "All hands, this is Mason. General Quarters, I repeat, General Quarters!" The bridge AI picked up the call and klaxons started their clangor throughout the ship. "I don't know what that is, but I'll be damned if we go in there defenseless."
He turned to Mathers. "Tell Fighter Control to get another wing of bombers out there. Helm, move us to that drifter. COMSCAN, tell me what that ship is!" There was no chorus this time, as heads bent to stations and tasks begun. Mason got up and started pacing, back and forth. If it was an Order vessel, well, their orders were clear.
It was the ensign that reported this time, not Johnson. "Sir, positive ID, that is the Raleigh. Her comms array is down, but we should be able to get a line-of-sight laser comm activated." His expression made it clear to Darryl that it was a question, not a statement. "Do it. I know the ice chunks will break it up, but it's better than this God-awful silence."
Static, the laser array's attempt to fill periods when an ice asteroid blocked the beam. It was a curse here, as Mason tried to reach the Raleigh. "FRC Raleigh, this is LAC Reliant, come in Raleigh. Damn it, be alive!" "...leigh to...nt, repeat...to LAC Reli...Heav...mage to all...hull critical...upport down. I don't...at it was...huge. Not gone...shoot...od's sake destroy us! Can't...more here...finished."
"Raleigh, what the hell are you talking about?" At that moment, the Reliant moved into a clearer patch and saw the Raleigh. All of the advanced scanning gear and communications arrays were slag, some very recent, most of the turrets were dead, some missing. Someone swore softly. "Damn...wonder what's been eating it." True words. The Raleigh's entire midsection was riven through with holes larger around than some fighter craft, the flank gnawed almost to the marrow of its inner workings, the work of some colossal beast of prey. The sheer firepower needed to do this...Not even the main cannon of the Reliant could match that effect. The engine section was venting atmosphere...and the occasional body, too.
"Dear God..." Mason didn't reply to the ensign. Dear God indeed. "Raleigh, this is Reliant, repeat last, over." A pause, then: "Reliant, God damn it, finish us and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! There's nothing you can do, our main airlocks are either gone, melted shut, or irradiated. We're a dead ship, Mason, and it's still here somewhere." "I can't do that, Raleigh. We'll find a way to get you out. Just hang on. What did that?"
"I'll be damned if I know. It was huge, whatever it was. Blended in with the ice, a sort of translucent blue. We picked it up on scanners, but I thought it was just another hunk of ice. Thought the scanner was malfunctioning. Didn't know I was wrong until we lost the scanners." Mason looked at Johnson, who mutely pointed at the display.
"You're right, it's out there, and it's behind us now." Commander Peter Sarkovski bit back a stream of curses. "Mason, it made mincemeat of us. I don't know what it could do to you, but I don't want to find out. There's only fifteen of us left." Fifteen...out of a crew well over one hundred.
"Sir, orders?" Mason started, lost in thought about the days when he and Sarkovski were growing up on Denver, of training in Academy together. Age seven: 'We'll go all the way, Pete. We'll make it through Academy, captain the big ships!' "Mathers, give me options!" "On it, sir!" "Mason glared at the status displays by his command chair. "All hands, we're going to condition red, that's condition red. All guns power up and prepare for battle. Fighters, ready top cover. Bombers, staggered downside, ready Novas on that bogey. Wing pods, ready nannys for launch."
"But sir, we can't launch the nannys without deshielding the pods." It was true. Nannys were too wide for the normal fighter launch tubes and had to be sent out the side doors which in normal operating conditions were left closed, and shielded. Unfortunately, the shield arrays weren't designed to depower just the bay doors. To launch the nannys would require disabling the shield on the entire pod on that side.
Were the pod shields depowered, the hostile would likely blast them into so much scrap, thereby leaving the escorts to their own engines for the trip home. "Sir, options." Mathers handed Darryl a hardcopy printout. First: Leave the Raleigh. Unacceptable. Second: Engage the hostile of unknown capacity. Possible, but not favorable given the condition it left the Raleigh in. Third: Depower the pods and launch nannys, in which case they and the pods of the Raleigh's crew would be vulnerable to fire. Unacceptable. Fourth: There wasn't a fourth.
"Helm, bring us around. Gunnery, firing solution on the bogey. COMSCAN, get them weak points to aim for. If we can injure it, destroy it, or just annoy it into leaving..." His voice trailed off. Fighting it would be suicide. Sarkovski's voice crackled over the comms. "Mason, what the hell are you doing? It might slag you, it might not, but there's no way you could stop it in time to save us. Getting us out isn't possible, Darryl. For the love of God, destroy the Raleigh! Better to die to a Mortar than of asphyxiation...or to that...thing's...guns."
"I can't do that, Pete. I can't let that be on my conscience, let alone my record!" Shouting on the bridge, "Hostile's moving in! Looks like it's going for the Raleigh!" "Turrets 6, 10, 12, 13, 14, and 16 ready. 7's got a small coolant leak...fixed now. 11 has a capacitor failure, routing around it." "15's overcharged, bleeding excess into shields..." "Solaris control reports ready status!" "Mortars armed!" "Routing on #11 complete." "Missile command says launcher armed, tracking now." "Bleed-off complete, all turrets ready."
"Darryl, in the name of our friendship, in the name of Liberty, in the name of your oath and God, I order you to fire on the Raleigh!" Mason was torn between wanting to save his friend or follow orders. Save his crew, save his ship, save his sanity? God help me, he thought, I'm a monster. "Mortar One," His shoulders sagged as he forced the words out: "Target the Raleigh. Fighter command, cancel the nannys. Recover the escorts. God have mercy. Fire one." As Mason turned and fell heavily into his chair, the weight of what he had just done on his shoulders, he said, barely above a whisper: "God have mercy on us all."
Back near Juneau, Mason ordered the ship's logs be transmitted to Fleet Headquarters. The detonation of the Raleigh's core would have been picked up by the scanner arrays positioned around Alaska, but those details would be sketchy at best. Not to mention entirely lacking in voice data, since the link was made via laser array. Ensign Stevens prepared the report, consulted with Johnson, and sent it off. There was no peace for Darryl, no closure. He'd ordered the death of a childhood friend, and the fact that his friend had ordered him to do so brought no relief. He waved to Eric, "Take the conn, Mathers, I'm going to my quarters."
Two Days Later...
"Captain Darryl R. Mason, LAC 43, LNS Reliant?" The orderly stood, framed by the portal to Darryl's quarters. Flanking him were two Marines in full dress gear carrying high-powered Detroit Arms LAR-23s, standard issue to the elite 41st Home Guard. The 41st were stationed on San Jacinto in Virginia. This man was from Fleet HQ, and the document he extended to Mason bore the seal of Admiral Hale himself. Darryl took it and skimmed over it. His face paled as he re-read it slowly, taking in every word as if it would be his last.
"Captain Mason, you are to accompany the bearer of this subpoena to Virginia pending court-martial for actions undertaken on the 20th of April, 818 AS, which resulted in the loss of the FRC 12, LNS Raleigh and all hands..."
"You have ten minutes to collect what personal effects are listed here, then you will come with me, sir." The orderly handed Darryl a second sheet, then stepped back and let the door iris shut. Darryl crumpled the latter sheet in both hands as he fell backwards onto his bunk. I knew this was coming. That didn't make it any easier to deal with. Time was wasting. He got up, retrieved an overnight bag, and began mechanically loading it with the items listed. Soap, shampoo, comb...
In a smallish room, decorated with a large flag of Liberty, as well as a number of very bright-fronted Naval officers, stood Darryl Mason, the accused, Roland Smith, the General Court-Martial (Prosecution), several dozen aides, witnesses for both sides, and a small forests' worth of printed material.
"I am Captain Smith. I was detailed a general court-martial by General Court-Martial Convening Order Number 2238762, Headquarters, Commodore Robinson, dated 22 April 818 AS.
"Certain charges against you have been referred to me for trial by general court–martial by Commander Nicholson on 23 April 818 AS. I now hand you a copy of the charges against you and I suggest that you keep this copy and refer to it throughout these trial proceedings.
"The court is now assembled for the trial of your case. The charges are signed by Fleet Admiral Hale, a person subject to the Code, as accuser, and are properly sworn to before an officer of the Liberty Navy authorized to administer oaths. The charges allege, in general, the offense of treason against House Liberty in a time of war...
"I am now going to advise you of the rights you have in this trial. You should carefully consider each explanation because you have the right to object to trial by general court–martial. Until I have completed my explanation, I do not want you to say anything except to answer specific questions that I will ask you. Do you understand?"
Mason nodded. "Yes, sir."
Smith turned back to his sheet. "As general court–martial it is my duty to obtain and examine all the evidence concerning any offense(s) to which you plead not guilty, and to thoroughly and impartially inquire into both sides of the matter. I will call witnesses for the prosecution and question them, and I will help you in cross- examining those witnesses. I will help you obtain evidence and present the defense. This means that one of my duties is to help you present your side of the case. You may also represent yourself, and if you do, it is my duty to help you. You are presumed to be innocent until your guilt has been proved by legal and competent evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. If you are found guilty of an offense, it is also my duty to consider matters which might affect the sentence, and then to adjudge an appropriate sentence. Do you understand that?"
Again Mason nodded. "Yes, sir." The explanation of Darryl Mason's rights would take some time. The right to object to the general court-martial. The right to inspect allied papers and personal records.
"You may inspect the allied papers and personnel records." At this point transcripts of the sensor station logs were deposited before Darryl."You may also inspect the bridge logs from the Reliant which are located in the adjoining room. You may have time to examine these if you wish." Mason indicated that he did not wish to, and the trial proceeded with the remainder of his rights.
"...The charges and specifications against you which have been referred to me for trial are as follows:
Charge (I): Violation of the Liberty Code of Military Justice, Article III.
Specification (1): In that 'The assault of any member of the Liberty forces for any reason is illegal, unless specific verbal exemption is given for a particular instance by a member of the high command structures of the primary fleets only.'
Charge (II): Violation of the Liberty Code of Military Justice, Article VI.
Specification (1): In that 'Acting in such a manner as to the detriment of the Liberty Armed Forces in their capacity to defend House Liberty in time of war shall be defined as treason against said House.'
Having read the charges and specifications to you and having previously furnished you with a copy of them, I now ask if you understand them?"
Mason nodded. "Yes, sir."
Smith turned to confer with an aide, then returned facing Darryl. "Before I ask you whether you are going to plead not guilty or guilty to the charges and specifications and explain these pleas to you, I now advise you that any motion to dismiss the charges and specifications or to grant other relief should be made at this time."
Mason listened to the types of motion available to him quietly, before stating "I abjure my right to any motions." A quiet murmur ran through the room; Darryl had just dismissed any chance of being saved by any means save direct evidence in the court proceedings.
"...I find you: Of all Charges and Specifications: Guilty.
"I do not intend to call any witnesses. However, you may desire to call witnesses or to introduce other matters in extenuation or mitigation, that is, for the purpose of lessening the severity of the sentence. The names of Lt. Cmdr. Eric Mathers, Lt. Steven Johnson, and Chief Petty Officer Morton Goldthwait are listed on the charge sheet as being witnesses for you, and they have been notified to appear to testify for you."
Mason, weary with the trial, waved Captain Smith off. "No, sir. I do not wish to call for the witnesses."
"Very well. I will now receive information in order to decide on an appropriate sentence. Examine the information concerning you located on the front page of your copy of the charge sheet. Is your personal data, as shown, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
There was no further data to be had; every scrap of evidence already deliberated over and reviewed. All that remained was:
"This court–martial is closed for determination of the sentence. Wait outside the courtroom until I recall you."
Darryl stood and followed the bailiff from the room.
When the aide came outside and motioned to Darryl, he felt oddly relieved. He knew that it was very probable he would be sentenced to execution. But I did what I had to. Small consolation, but better than none at all. He walked to his seat and sat down, faced the Summary Court-Martial, and waited for the inevitable.
"I sentence you: To death by firing squad, to take place no later than ten days from now. Until such a time a your execution is scheduled, you will be incarcerated in a maximum-security block of Prison Station Fairbanks.
"You have the right to request in writing that Admiral Hale defer your sentence to confinement. Deferment is not a form of clemency and is not the same as suspension of a sentence. It merely postpones the running of a sentence to confinement.
"You have the right to submit in writing a petition or statement to the convening authority. This statement
may include any matters you feel the convening authority should consider, a request for clemency, or both. This statement must be submitted within 7 days, unless you request and the convening authority approves an extension of up to 10 days. After the convening authority takes action, your case will be reviewed by a judge advocate for legal error. You may suggest, in writing, legal errors for the judge advocate to consider. If, after final action has been taken in your case, you believe that there has been a legal error, you may request review of your case by The Judge Advocate Admiral of the Navy. Do you understand these rights?
"Yes sir."
"This court–martial is adjourned."
Stevens gaped and turned to Mathers. "They can't do that! He did the only thing he could, the right thing!" Eric just sighed, turned, and walked down the corridor towards the hangar. It was over. Or was it. An idea began to take shape in Eric's mind as he lengthened his stride and ignored Stevens' shouts to slow down. He set his jaw and boarded the shuttle. Stevens joined him, along with Johnson and Goldthwait, as he instructed the pilot to fly them back to the Reliant.
