The Appalling Silence
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Blind Man's Zoo
TArch57512 Tony Hawk, 2.2 AU from Terranova
9/14/2101, 0200.00 American Time
"P-please," Shannen cringes from her touch,"d-don't, I-i-"
Jesus Christ, she's trembling, Precious Syms thinks, trying to get closer to her...even when things were going good, Precious didn't know what to think of their relationship, or what either of them really wanted, but, damn, even at their worst, Shannen's never been this scared of her.
Her clear blue eyes are wide with fear, her knees tucked up underneath her chin, as she huddles in the corner of the ship's cargo bay, the olive-drab dungarees someone gave to her hanging loosely on her...she won't even let Precious brush away the tears running down her face, she just keeps pulling away, drawing herself up even tighter.
"What the hell did they do to you, girl?" she whispers, not sure she wants to know what they did to her the whole time they had her locked down in the LEC.
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Blind Man's Zoo
TArch57512 Tony Hawk, 2.2 AU from Terranova
9/14/2101, 0201.03 AMT
Reverend Robert Cheney knows exactly what the hell they did to Shannen in there.
Same crap they did to Jami the whole time they had her locked up on Witch's Tit.
Or in the Phoenix Center before that.
All because the confessional wasn't all that sacred in the New Church, especially when frightened twelve-year old girls told their school chaplins about the sins visited upon them by their fathers and brothers.
Only one of the many things he'd soon be trying to explain to Him.
Cheney begins another violent spasm of coughing, his chest feeling like a rock, the world tunneling out in front of him in a shower of stars, a small glob of bloody blue-green mucus yielded up onto his handkerchief for all that hacking.
The GQ klaxon clangs throughout the cargo bay, scaring already frightened people stripped even of their victim status by men like him, the pathfinder's warp engine almost knocking him flat on his ass, as it kicks in at max burn, the ship shaking, the lights dimming, as lasers strike the grav shielding, and the pathfinder's pair of forty-terajoule lasers return fire.
"Warpfighters, three squadrons of 'em," Finn's holo says over Cheney's Link." Sumbitches bounced us while Marlin was recalibrating the drivefield generator."
"Will we make it to warpdrive?" Cheney asks.
"Ask the Man, Padre," Finn replies acerbically,"He knows better than me or Marlin right now."
"Warpdrive entry in five seconds," Blind Man's Zoo's flight engineer announces over the intercom.
"Guess we'll all know soon enough whether we make it or not, Padre," Finn remarks.
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Nagasaki
2.4 light-years from the Tau Ceti system
9/14/2101, 0201.67 AMT
Fleet Captain Pax Judas Rabwin, sometimes known as "the Hammer," looks up at the cam in the ceiling of his flagship's bridge, discreetingly preening himself, as he gets ready to deliver the next line.
"Freedom's enemies do not hesitate," he finally replies, after waiting the appropriate amount of time to reply to his flag captain, Jason Burnette's, last line,"to hide behind outmoded notions of national sovreignty and international law in the execution of their terrorist agenda against our way of life."
"Nor should we," he adds,"be constrained by such relics of simpler times, Captain, not when the shape of twenty-second century warfare has already proven itself to be far different from wars of even fifty, sixty years ago."
The Sand Creek-class battle cruiser's navigator begins the countdown to warpdrive entry, the appropriate incidental music booming over the speakers, as thirty-two of the Union's finest military starships enter warpdrive, their combined 2,880 F18D Predator warpfighters forming a tight V in front of them.
About twenty seconds subjective, he observes, his Link counting down for him, then we'll be back online, as tedious as duty assignments get in the Fleet, and I honestly just don't see the reasoning behind the Media Committee and the Union Security Council making this the season finale for Pax Rabwin: Terranovan Spaceman.
Unless, he thinks, they want to show the folks back home that even national heroes have to do their share of crapwork from time to time.
Or, he hopes, the Media Committee and the brass are both figuring on us running into some medships stupid enough to try and-
Before he even has a chance to complete that thought, Rabwin finds himself on his hands and knees on the deck of his flagship, the lights slowly coming back up from full darkness, alarms and reports screaming in his ears, the smell of burning things assaulting his nose.
Normspace floating over every station on the bridge, the Nagasaki's chief lidarman shouting out:
"Lidar detecting three Commonwealth Forces Dauntless-class cruisers, plus their warpfighters at plus zero-four-five by one-eight-zero-zero, zero-zero-zero by zero-zero-zero and minus zero-four-five by zero-six-zero-zero; all contacts closing fast at three-eight-zero miles per second!"
This report is followed by shouts of,"vampire, vampire, vampire, count is one-eight-zero Gobstoppers, closing rapidly at five-zero-zero miles per second."
"All cruisers and warpfighters firing lasers!" the chief lidarman is quick to add.
"Get us into warpdrive," Rabwin hears Burnette, shout,"now!"
"...fantasies, Your Honor," Captain Zellner tells Judge Johnson,"fantasies from a tormented child who enjoys wallowing in the victim sta-"
"You're telling me," the twelve-year old girl says, shooting up out of the hard chair in front of the expensive leather desk in Judge Johnson's chambers,"that I want him and those other bas-"
The head of the TSID Special Victims Unit just clucks his tongue at her, as Avery slaps her back into the chair, Daddy just sits there, all handsome in his white dress uniform, nodding his head, and Mama doesn't do a frickin' thing, Captain Zellner further explaining to everybody that Jami's outburst is nothing but another example of her wanting to play the goddamn victim, exhibiting itself in rebelliousness, deviant activities and incorrigible criminal behavior, that only a stay in the most expensive whacky whitey wing a Spacefleet captain's salary could afford would....
...the bridge falls down around her, the frightened twenty-one year old girl now commanding this cruiser....
Aboard the Commonwealth Forces Ship Unbroken
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 2206.11 Zulu
...snapping out orders for Unbroken's navigator, Sub-Lieutenant Genera Muncie, to take the ship into warpdrive, now, just as the 1,262-ton Dauntless-class cruiser enters warpdrive, re-enetering normspace on top of the Yanker Sand Creek-class battle cruiser Commander Jamilinne Sipe has singled out, Lieutenant Prudence Davidson and her other main laser gunner tearing into him with Unbroken's twelve 160-terajoule main lasers, her fifteen five-hundred gigajoule autolaser quad turrets swatting aside Cobra missiles and Predator warpfighters trying to pile on her.
"Lidar," Jami asks,"how many did we get?"
Chief Lidarman Meliza, tenth so named of Clan Potonakro, instantly replies,"all but two of the cruisers, Skipper, and all but three hundred of their Preads."
"The two surviving cruisers," the Anazazi female adds, as the enemy battle cruiser ducks into warpdrive,"have been positively identified as the Freeman Lang-class heavy cruiser Sandusky and the Sand Creek-class battle cruiser Nagasaki."
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Nagasaki
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 1707.61 AMT
"Commie cruisers positively IDed as the Dreadnaught, the Nautilus, and the Unbroken," the chief lidarman reports, Rabwin seeing that for himself in the right-hand flag holodisplay, cursing the luck which has brought the Commie Forces' Ship Unbroken to his doorstep.
Naturally, the others don't see it that way, Burnette and the bridge crew already discussing how they were going to divide the hundred meg they were going to get for capturing Ken Sipe's spoiled little brat alive, and, more importantly, how they were going to divide the zeds amongst their crews between them.
CruRon 625's commander, on the other hand, has talked a great game about being better than she was-to the point where his fans were screaming for him to stop talking and go after her-while dreading this inevitable day for the last almost ten years since the Media Committee had chosen him as their new national hero...greater men than him had tangled with the Avenging Angel of Avalon, only to either end up dead-if the Almighty Living God smiled upon them-or losing everything they'd built up over a lifetime of service to their Union.
On the other hand....
"Gunnery deck, flag, target Unbroken's warp engine," he orders Burnette," then take it out with a Harpoon; nav, the moment the Unbroken is dead in space, I want a micro that puts us well inside grav beam range of her, preferrably 180 feet."
"I," he adds,"will lead the Marines when they-son of a bitch!"
"We have a golden opportunity right now," Burnette observes, somewhat sarcastically, as the bridge lights and holodisplays go out, and more of the ceiling falls down on top of them, a bundle of fiber-optic cabling spitting bluish-black photons just inches from Rabwin's face."
"Unbroken now one-eight-zero feet above us and closing rapidly at three-eight-zero miles per second," comes the report from lidar, as Rabwin's flagship shakes and shimmies some more underneath his feet.
"Damage control," the Nagasaki's XO, Commander John Burke, snaps,"report!"
"Bridge, repair one," comes a voice over the 1-MC,"hangar bay has been destroyed, direct hits to forward hydrogen tankage and Cobra magazines; we've had to vent the whole forward middeck to keep fires from reaching the bridge area."
"Bridge, repair five," comes another voice,"we have severe damage to numbers one, three and four warp engines and massive venting of antimatter and warp engine coolant; max warpspeed is 3.2 lights per day, max acceleration in normspace, two gravities. No response from the bots charged with warp engine maintenance, and our own DC bots are having difficulty reaching the engineering spaces."
"Bridge, repair three," a third voice reports,"severe damage to maneuver jet, all secondary power generation offline, port vertical-launch cells destroyed, gunnery deck opened to space, sickbay reporting massive casaulties, two hundred dead, 580 severely wounded."
"Repair stations two, four," Burke reports,"and six through ten are not responding."
" Flag," comes the report from the gunnery deck, "gunnery deck, we've acquired the Commie cruiser and have launched four Harpoons from starboard VLS cells, all set for radiation homing."
"Unbroken," the lidarman reports," now 180 feet from our bow."
"Piloting," Burnette shouts,"hit that bitch with the grav beam. Engineering, all available warp engine power to the grav beam jenny, n-"
More blue-black photons rain down from more broken wiring, some of the bridge holodisplays going down and staying down for good, Rabwin cursing, as the Commie bitch chooses the exact moment Nagasaki's grav beam fastens onto her to enter warpdrive.
Situation Room, Union Security Council Headquarters
16 miles underneath HQTRS,Freeman Lang, Terranova
9/14/2101, 1707.90 AMT
"Man, this is some bullcrap!" someone screams over the speakers, echoing the Governor of the Union's thoughts precisely, Guy Thomas Zellner watching Ken Sipe's spoiled little brat duck into warpdrive, just as the man Zellner had helped make a hero of the frickin' Union had been this close to capturing her.
"Bullcrap," he says, eyes drifting to other holoprojections, each showing a disaster unfoldfing for his Spacefleet,"ain't the damn word for it."
"Is it, Ken?!" he asks, the Governor of the Union turning on his heel and staring down his Chief of Military Operations, Fleet Admiral Kennisaw Mountain Sipe stepping back, tripping and falling over onto his stepson.
Micheal Bauer, Zellner's Prime Minister, pushes the old man off of him like he was fresh dog turd on the soles his shoes.
"Well, Admiral," Zellner says, as stepson and stepfather give each other dirty looks. "I'm waiting for an answer."
"What happened?!" he demands, jerking a hand at the Situation Room holoprojections showing Commie ships shooting down every last goddamn one of the squadrons he'd sent to deny them access to their warpdrive corridors.
"There must've been a leak," Sipe has the nerve to tell him.
"Y'think?!" his Governor shrieks at him, his voice bouncing off the shock-reinforced walls of the Situation Room.
"Absolutely no one," he reminds his CMO,"was supposed to know, until it was time for them to enter warpdrive. Even the goddamn Media Committee wasn't briefed about the mission until after all the squadrons were in warpdrive."
"And," he adds, coming straight to the point,"I know I didn't run my effing mouth to the goddamn Commies."
He finds himself staring into the mirror of Sipe's M2049 250-gigajoule laser pistol.
"Put it away!" Micheal, loyal as a dog, hisses, his own laser pistol pressed into Sipe's temple.
"Still defending your little wife-girlie, Mickey?" Sipe asks calmly.
"Don't you know," he adds,"she likes men, boy?"
Zellner chuckles.
"I ain't the one who lets zeds run right over him, am I, Ken?" he asks, turning his back to the weapon in his CMO's hand.
"Baraka," he then says,"what do you think? Did Ken betray us, or no?"
The virally blonde buzzcut monkeyboy commanding his Terranovan Security and Intelligence Directorate replies, no hesitation at all in the Haziri's voice,"no, sir."
"Agreed," the Governor of the Union decides, after an appropriate space of time.
"None of us in this room betrayed you, sir," Baraka then says. "Given that few others would have been briefed prior to the operation, it won't take long to ferret out the person who passed the information along to the enemy."
Zellner nods, smiling tightly.
"What of the boy, Omar?" he asks.
"Sir?" Baraka asks.
"The boy, Admiral," Zellner repeats.
"Garrison passed the loyalty check," Baraka says, after a moment's indecision,"and his father's chief of staff vouches for him, but the interrogators noted they had certain reser-"
"He don't interest me any more, Omar," his Governor says slowly(the way Daddy used to talk to me, a forgotten part of his mind whispers).
He tries to make himself clear:
"Tell me about the boy."
Moot House #464
Flynt County Highway 49, Owensboro, Terranova
9/14/2101, 1707.96 AMT
"Roses are red," Jacob says,"lemons are sour. Open your legs and gimme an hour."
National Police Sergeant Randall Pate and National Policeman 1st Class Geoff Halfacre laugh at what National Policeman 1st Class Garrison Sipe's nine-year old son has just said, Randy's wife Sunni-the manager of this Moot House, the one across the bridge, and the one on Hartley Bridge Road-cooing,"ooh, that is just so cute."
"It's something, all right," Sipe remarks noncomittally, as Lissa Reinhardt refills his coffee cup.
"'Em things gonna come out and play, Floppy?" Jake's best friend, eleven-year old Matt Pate, asks, before giving the eighteen year old girl's boobs a hard pinch and twist, the resulting reflexive action causing her to spill hot coffee all over Halfacre.
"Watch it, y'ugly, horsey-lookin' skank!" Sipe's partner yelps, the action of the coffee on his crotch causing him to shoot bolt upright out of the booth, Sunni telling Lissa,"you gotta be more careful, baby."
"He grabbed my-" Lissa started to say, Halfacre grousing,"always got an excuse, don't ya?!"
"Not so loud, Lissa," Sunni rebukes her. "The other customers are lookin' dead at you."
"'Sides," Sipe's wife of ten years, Michelle, says,"he's just a boy."
"Boys," Randy remarks,"will be boys...and, it ain't like you didn't have a hand in what just passed."
"What?!" Lissa starts to say. "I-"
"Go and get a dish towel," Sunni tells her.
"Now," she adds, Lissa quickly going behind the line, as Sunni apologizes to Halfacre, offering to pay for his food, something which Sipe's partner is only too eager to accept.
He sits back down.
"Getting to where y'can't bring little kids up in here," he remarks,"without one of your drug-addicted skanks tryin' to hit on 'em. What, sniffin' each other's pooties ain't enough for 'em no more?"
"Where's the fun in that, Halfacre?" Randy remarks. "I mean, it's okay to get you off, but after a while, they want too much, and it just gets boring."
"Don't ya," he asks Sunni, hairy hand crushing her upper right arm,"wife-girlie?"
"Yes, Master," she half-whispers, Sipe catching the pained look in his thirty-one year old wife's eyes.
He chooses to ignore it for now, hoping none of the others bring it up to him later on.
A pounding and screaming from the back room has the whole damn restaurant looking in that direction, one of Randy and Sunni's girls-the youngest, nine-year old Shelby-running out of the swinging door connecting the backroom with the backline, Sipe's other two boys-seven year old Andy and five-year old Nate-chasing after her along with Randy's other boy, thirteen-year old James, Sunni screeching at the other waitress, Earnestine Lucas,"I thought I told you to keep an eye on 'em!"
"I had my back turned for just a second, Miz Sunni," whines the twenty-year old halfie girl , Sunni sighing disgustedly, as Nate and Andy corner and pin Shelby down between the back window and the low counter, groping and kissing on her at the same time she....
...screams, Mickey, DT and Avery smacking her head into the tiles of the bathroom floor, groping Sissy as she struggles, sticking their fingers in whereever they can stick them, the six-year old boy just standing in the doorway, watching, not knowing what to do.
"Goddamnit, you little bastard," Mickey screams at him when he sees him,"stop standing there, and...."
"...based on the expert testimony of both Doctor Wildgoose and Captain Zellner," Judge Johnson says,"it is the ruling of this court that Jamilinne Sipe is, in fact, suffering from a victim-state pathology-"
"You bastard!" Sissy screams, Daddy grabbing her arm, trying to jerk her down into her seat. "That's just bull-"
"Sit your ass down, goddamn little bitch!" Daddy snaps, Avery helping him smack the crap out of her, Judge Johnson continuing to speak the whole time:
"-from a victim-state pathology which, amongst other things, has resulted in sexually deviant behaviors, including both a strong desire for sexual dominance of the sadomasochistic variety by her own father, brothers and other men and women. Jamilinne Sipe is thus judged non compos mentis, a positive danger to herself and to others, and is hereby remanded by this court to the custody of the Terranovan Ministry of Prisons' Criminal Psychiatric Division, for immediate placement in the Phoenix Center in Freeman Lang, until such time it can be proven to the satisfaction of this court that she no longer poses a threat to society or to herself-"
"NO!" she screams, struggling in the grip of a pair of Gnats who've come into the judge's chambers. "No, I won't-"
"You are very, very sick, Jamilinne" Johnson said, the two National Policemen jumping her, slamming her down onto the desktop, one of them holding her facedown by her hair while his partner cuffs her and slaps her butt hard enough for it to echo off the walls, the first Gnat then pulling on her hair, both of them carrying her, kicking and screaming, out of Judge Johnson's chambers, the judge saying:
"This is for your own good...."
"...git it, gurl, git it gurl," someone raps over the speakers, Randy looking at this, nodding his head, as he turns back to the others and remarks,"boys will be boys."
"Ain't that right, Garry," he then asks.
"Yup," Sipe finds himself saying.
"They sure are," he adds.
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Blind Man's Zoo
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 1708.12 AMT
Finn uselessly invokes Jesus' name as the ship keeps screaming "unscheduled warpdrive emergence!" over and over for the few seconds it takes for the SR-142 pathfinder to drop back down into normspace with a tooth-jarring thud! which knocks Micheal Smith, late Adjutant-General of the Terranovan National Police forward into the space between the nav and piloting stations, that space becoming deck for a moment, as the lights and the grav go out in a rain of bluish-black photons shooting out of every goddamn where at once, Smitty holding on to the arm of Finn's chair to keep himself rooted, Finn shouting out,"Padre, get everyone aboard the shitcan, now!" over his Link, the forty-ton scout craft tumbling ass over tea kettle at just enough speed to make Smitty sick to his stomach.
I have been out of this too long, he remarks, forcing himself to swallow the vomit, snapping out,"goddamnit, Finn, can't you do something about us spinning around here?!"
"Love to, Smitty," Finn replies, as another alarm begins hooting across the cubbyhole of a bridge, "but the maneuver jet's offline as well."
"Not that it's going to matter soon," he adds." Warp engine's trashed, containment's shot to hell and we're frickin' bleeding coolant."
Now, it's Smitty's turn to whisper Jesus' name.
"How long?" he asks.
"Hopefully," Finn replies,"we won't go up 'til after-"
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Nagasaki
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 1709.00 AMT
Just as Sandusky goes up in a ball of white fire, Rabwin notices another pinpoint of light in his right-hand flag holodisplay.
"Speak to me, lidar," he says.
"SR-142 pathfinder," the chief lidarman is quick to reply,"squawking the ident of the ship which escaped Terranova with Micheal Smith and a whole pack of zeds."
The bridge shakes again, Burke snapping out,"grav shielding offline, primary electrical system 98% disrupted, secondary electrical system 74% disrupted, main lasers eight to twenty-seven offline, all decks open to space."
"Am detecting an escape vehicle," the chief lidarman says,"along the pathfinder's vector, one-two-zero-zero yards downrange from us, velocity three-eight-zero miles per second, accelerating away at three-zero feet per second squared."
"Piloting," Burnette barks out, almost as if he can read his commander's mind,"close the distance between us and that lifeboat."
"Marines," he adds,"to the secondary airlock."
Aboard the Commonwealth Forces Ship Unbroken
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 2210.01 Zulu
"Legionnaires to the dropship," Jami snaps over the 1-MC the instant she sees the escape pod in her right-hand command holodisplay, "Legionnaries to the dropship."
"Nagasaki altering vector to intercept," Meliza reports," enemy vessel increasing anti-beam ordinance launch and transferring warp engine power to his working main lasers."
Jami nods, telling Stevie,"right down his throat, Number One. Engineering, all available warp engine power to grav shielding and main lasers; guns, launch a salvo of Gobstoppers set for laser-homing, stand by main-"
"Enemy cruisers emerging from warpdrive," Meliza shouts out, four Benjamin Zellner-class cruisers entering normspace on a direct line for the escape pod, their combined 48 Predator warpfighters arrowing towards the three Commonwealth Forces cruisers, all lasers blazing, as they join the 120 Predators already bogging down CruWrong 8113's other two cruisers.
"Inpornha!" Meliza utters an Anazazi curse, as Unbroken's four triangs of Legionnaires run through the bridge en route to the hangar bay on the forward middeck. "All four cruisers are launching dropships!"
Unbroken's own Mark III Bulldog-class dropship, Georgia Bull, clears the cruiser's hangar bay a moment later, hauling ass towards the escape pod at max burn.
"Unbroken," Commander Paul Rice's image says on her left-hand command holodisplay,"Nautilus. We're punching our Legionnaires now; we'd lend more of a hand than that, but these damn warpfighters-"
"Understood," Jami replies, glancing at the right-hand command holodisplay, seeing the Nagasaki, wreathed in the bluish-gold fog of its anti-beam ordinance, continuing to bear down on the three Dauntless-class cruisers.
"Unbroken," Commander Willie Jordan's image says from alongside her fellow commander's,"Dreadnaught, enemy crudev turning to engage us."
"Warpfighters," Jami says over her Link,"the dropships are now your A-number one priority; the cruisers can take care of themselves, for now. Dreadnaught, Nautilus, ready a salvo of laser-homing Gobstoppers; we'll drop 'em the instant Nagasaki's main lasers open up on where we were. Pilots and navigators, I need y'all to work together."
"We're going to go micro in a second," she adds, dryswallowing,"come out literally on top of the Nagasaki, and match his vector exactly."
"Understood," her two subordinate commanders reply in unision at the same time Meliza lets her know the Nagasaki is opening fire with his main lasers.
"Now," says the captain of the Unbroken over her Link.
In the cockpit of the Commonwealth Forces Ship Real Folk Blues
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 2211.20 Zulu
The warpfighter is the only combat starship to lack grav shielding and anti-beam ordinance.
There's simply no room left over, after the installation of the smallest possible warp engine twenty-second century technology could manufacture , not to mention all the offensive armaments.
Its sole defense, then, lies in the skill of its pilot.
Or, Lieutenant Khryste Pollard has time to muse, to sum up the ancient martial-arts maxim, stick and move.
"All right ladies," the commander of Warp Fighter Squadron 214, aka the Black Dogs, says over her Link,"you heard the Skipper. Diddy-bop on my mark."
"Mark!" she snaps an instant later, stroking the holokey on her Mark IIB Raptor's windscreen which sends her into warpdrive, thumb and pointing finger crushing the firing buttons to all of the laser firepower crammed into the Raptor's two and a quarter ton spaceframe the instant she pops back into normspace, ten five-hundred-gigajoule autolasers and the two five-terajoule lasers in the centerline pod skittering off the forward grav shielding of the four Yanker SC-130 Gorgon dropships moving in a V formation towards her, the four enemy craft opening up with the dual-mounted five-terajoule lasers in their chin turrets, the pair of autolaser quad turrets on their dorsal and ventral sections and the Cobra missile launchers on their flanks, Khryste loosing a volley of Spitball air-to-air missiles in their direction, before juking down and hard to the right, bringing the autolasers and laser pod to bear on the starboard side of one of the enemy dropships, the other two Raptors of Triang 2141 converging on her target from opposite directions, all three ships unleashing their lasers at the same time.
The Gorgon's grav shielding flares all the way up the spectrum to black, before it gives out, lasers vaporizing its now unprotected spaceframe into molten gobbets, the lidar alarm howling in her ears, warning her of Preads coming in fast at max burn.
"464 and 959," she says, consulting her ship's tactical display,"we've got these; deal with the Preads."
"Copy that, Real Folk Blues," Lieutenant Katee Moss' image says from the left-hand side of her windscreen, Nautilus and Dreadnaught's warpfighter squadrons peeling off and piling on the inbound Preads, Khryste adding her triang's firepower to 2143's, the six Raptors easily overwhelming their intended target's grav shielding before annhilating him.
"That's all of 'em, Boss," Sub-Lieutenant Alicia Parker, her XO, says at the same time the holo of Lieutenant Paige Ryder, commanding VF-464, shouts out,"Real Folk Blues, Red Comet! Khryste, some of the bastards got through, they're headed directly for our dropships!"
"I see 'em," the commander of the Black Dogs says calmly, glancing at the tactical display.
"Black Dogs," she adds, as she changes course."Real Folk Blues. Let's go kill us some Yankers!"
"...Khryste!" she screams, clutching at her daughter's hand, a Gnat's gauntlet smacking her hard in the face instead, as the MFACS social workers drag the eleven-year old girl kicking and screaming out of the house.
Her little girl bites down on the paw of one of them, before running back towards the front door, the monkeyboy calling her a little bitch,while his Human partner and one of the Gnats-Khryste's uncle-run after her, tackling her, Lori....
In Blind Man's Zoo's escape pod
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 1715.80 AMT
...shakes uncontrollably, dryswallowing, trying to forget again.
Again, she finds she can't.
Without a word, Amy Bridges takes Lori Pollard in her arms, holding on tight, as they snuggle closer in the cramped volume of the escape pod.
Softly, lightly, Lori kisses her lover's cheek, patting the hands holding her, sniffling away the last of the tears.
"What's going on, Rev?" she asks, her voice a raspy croak.
"We're in the middle of a battle," Reverend Cheney, seated at the pod's controls, replies. "Three Commie cruisers and four Terranovan cruisers are fighting over a Terranovan battle cruiser, and a whole bunch of warpfighters are fighting over three Commie dropships moving towards us."
"The pathfinder's gone," he adds. "Warp engine blew the instant we re-enetered normspace....must've taken a missile or something."
Lori nods her head.
"Any idea who the Commie ships are?" she asks.
"One of 'em's Unbroken," Reverend Cheney replies,"according to the pennant number on her port dorsal section; kill board's 'bout right for what we know of her."
Her half-sister's in command of that ship.
And, from what Smitty's been able to find out, her daughter's commands Unbroken's warpfighters.
She wonders if Jami even knows Khryste's her niece.
Or if either one of them ever asks about Lori.
If either one of 'em thinks I'm worth their time, she thinks. In their shoes, I certainly-
She spits out the f-word, as she sits bolt upright, as a loud clanking noise reverberates throughout the interior of the escape pod.
Aboard the Republican Union Ship Melvin Thompson
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 1718.92 AMT
"Then," his former subordinate's snaps at Commander Rhaman Deas,"blast us out of the effing way, if need be!"
"Or," Rabwin adds, getting in the opportunity for some knife-twisting,"have you completely forgotten how to fight them, Commander?!"
"I was fighting them long before you were born, boy," Deas reminds him, at the same time Thompson's XO, Commander Merle Hagin just barely manages to evade twelve 160 TJ laser pulses streaking from the leading edges of Unbroken's delta wing.
At the same time almost crashing into the Nagasaki, less than a couple of feet below the Benjamin Zellner-class cruiser's current position.
"And, if you knew how to fight them correctly, Commander," Rabwin replies, digging even deeper into that particular sore spot,"you would still be CMO, wouldn't you?"
Son of a bitch, Deas thinks to himself, the reservists manning the gunnery deck of CruDev 10254's flagship managaing to miss again, with all twelve of its main lasers, Unbroken almost invisible now in the thickening cloud of anti-beam ordinance she carries with her.
That ship...she is the nerve Rabwin's struck...one miserable, spoiled goddamn brat had humilated him, twice; he has her to thank for having to sign those goddamn Accords-on her bridge-before old Gotchanow Guy had demoted him-live, in 256-bit true color-and condeming him to this.
Weekend emeffing warriors, he muses angrily, the Thompson's bringing its main lasers to bear on Unbroken, his gunnery deck opening fire, scoring direct hits which has the Commie cruiser's forward grav shielding awash in red, orange and yellow light.
The Terranovan cruiser's own bridge shakes and rains down pieces of ceiling and bluish-black photons from broken electrical cabling, that bitch stabbing through the Thompson's fog of detonating anti-beam ordinance and grav shielding to hurt him.
"Go 'head, and give me the bad news, Engineering," Deas tells Chief Warrant Officer Charles Freeman.
"Grav shielding's reduced by 63%," Freeman reports,"primary electrical system's 86% disrupted, secondary electrical system's 63% disrupted. Main lasers one, five, seven and twelve offline, autolaser turrets eight through fifteen destroyed, gunnery deck reporting defensive computer destroyed, crew and gunnery decks opened to space."
The bridge shakes and sparks again, Freeman further reporting:
"Warp engine badly damaged, warp engine housing opened to space, venting antimatter and warp engine coolant. No better than 6.4 lights per day possible, max possible normspace acceleration four gravities."
"All available warp engine power to grav shielding and main lasers," a grimly-determined Deas orders, eyes fixed on the holo of the Unbroken floating in his right-hand command holodisplay.
"Let's see if you glorified goddamn civilians can hit the target this time," he remarks.
Aboard the Commonwealth Forces Ship Unbroken
5.0 light-years from the Eta Cassiopei B system
9/14/2101, 2219.46 Zulu
"Now, Number One," the captain of the Unbroken says to her wife, Stevie jerking the Dauntless-class cruiser down and hard to the left, leaving her protective cloud of detonated anti-beam ordinance behind, Unbroken's second in command bringing the ship's main lasers to bear on the lead Yanker cruiser's belly, Prue and the other main laser gunner tearing through its grav shielding to send half-molten junk and atmosphere gushing out of the resulting wound into space, the lead enemy cruiser twisting to bring its working main lasers to bear on Unbroken.
Stevie not giving the bastard the chance, rapidly pulling up and out of his line of fire, the gunnery deck dropping a quartet of Gobstoppers from the ordinance bays, as Unbroken skims the top of the lead Yanker cruiser.
Alarms howl, the ship rocking slightly, Meliza reporting,"that Yanker's last laser barrage did some damage."
"To the Nagasaki," she adds, a windowed cube in Jami's right-hand command holodisplay showing Jami the telemetry from the aft camera array, as two parts of a Yanker battle cruiser float dead in the night, a cloud of half-vaporized junk and burned bodies the only thing connecting them now.
The master of the Unbroken studies the tactical display...Georgia Bull's docked with the pathfinder's escape pod, the other two dropships standing guard, hosing down enemy warpfighters with their autolaser quad turrets and their Spitball missile batteries.
Only a pair of enemy cruisers remain, both of them badly shot-up and trying to open the range between them and CruWrong 8113, as Nautilus and Dreadnaught now flank Unbroken, ready to bring their main lasers to bear on the cruiser to starboard.
"Four squadrons of enemy warpfighters have disengaged the dropships," Meliza reports,"and are heading towards us at max burn."
"Nagasaki," she then adds," launching escape vehicles."
Situation Room, Union Security Council Headquarters
16 miles underneath HQTRS,Freeman Lang, Terranova
9/14/2101, 1721.45 AMT
The Governor of the Union says nothing in reply to Deas' report.
His hands are balled, bloodless fists shaking in frustration at his sides, his breath an explosive sigh through painfully clenched teeth, as he watches the Melvin Thompson and the Jackson Varnadore recover the escape pods and lifeboats launched by what remains of the Nagasaki.
"It wasn't," his Prime Minister has the nerve to effing say,"a complete disaster."
"Define 'complete disaster' for me, Micheal," Zellner spits out.
"We didn't have to do any censoring," Micheal tells him. "Everyone who had been watching Pax Rabwin online immediately switched to other programming, and the news channels have been instructed to increase coverage of the Miley Spiers sex scandal to-"
"They've seen enough," the Governor of the Union is quick to remind him.
"We've deleted the entire vid," Baraka adds at this point,"and the Media Committee have uploaded the backup season finale vid they made in its place; it should prove to be-"
"Well, it's just well, fine and good that our online audience will get its effing fix," Zellner says with a chill in his voice,"and even better that we can just sweep this under the rug."
"Lemme ask y'all something," he adds, his fists hurting as he clenches them tighter, his Daddy's voice laughing at him from the back of his mind.
"How do you propose sweeping them under the rug?"
"Huh, Ken?!" he asks, turning on his heel to stare Sipe down.
"Considering ," he adds.
"You can hardly blame-" his Chief of Military Operations starts to sputter.
"Your responsibility for making her do right," Micheal remarks.
"Yours as well, Micheal," snaps the Governor of the Union, stabbing a finger towards Micheal's chest,"so I'd shut the eff up if I were you."
It is a subjective eternity of dead quiet later, before Zellner tells Baraka:
"Pax Rabwin's got one more episode left in him, Omar. Make the appropriate arrangements."
Moot House #464
Flynt County Highway 49, Owensboro, Terranova
9/14/2101, 1725.08 AMT
"Goddamnit," Marc Bevill thunders from the high counter,"take it outside, willya?!"
"Lil' brat's makin' so much noise," he adds, sipping his large to-go cup of coffee,"ain't no wonder nobody's in here."
"Stop your damn hollerin' and cryin'!" Andy Sipe spits at Shelby, slapping her across the face again, as all Garry and Michelle can think to effing do is just sit there.
"Yeah," Jacob Sipe hollers at the top of his lungs,"take it outside, ain't nobody here wanna see what you got!"
Matt hollers out in agreement, as Michelle glances over in Sunni Pate's direction.
This time, Randy catches Sunni looking back, his fingers digging into her arm, as he hisses,"don't even go there, wife-girlie," in her ear.
"Disgusting," Calvin Hobbes, seated at the low counter next to where Garry's two youngest and Sunni's oldest boy are groping and kissing on Shelby, remarks, shaking his head as he continues sipping his coffee and watching.
"Can't you at least raise your kids right, Sunni?!" he demands, Andy grabbing hold of the hand Shelby's trying to claw his face with, using his hold on that arm to pull her forward so his little brother Nate can lift up the hem of her short school uniform skirt for James to spank.
"I know," Loudmouth Jim Hunter observes sagely through a mouthful of cheeseburger. "She's just sitting there while her daughter's forcin' herself on 'em little boys."
"What happens," Geoff Halfacre remarks, through a mouthful of double hasbrowns,"when y'start lettin' zeds pop 'em out left n' right, they jus' let 'em go wild and raise all sorts of hell."
"See that every day," he adds, dribbling ketchup, onions and Lo-Melt all over his chin as he slaps Garry hard between his shoulder blades," don't we, buddy boy?"
"Yup," Garry says.
"Sure do," he adds.
"Sure do," he repeats, turning his attention back to the double quarter cheeseburger in his hands.
-endit-
