Breach of Duty, page 37
"What's Erhart up to now?" Ostrovsky wondered aloud.
The comm officer spoke up. "A general hail from Master Ten."
"Put them on."
A few seconds passed, and a new face showed up on the viewer, that of an Arab man in his mid-twenties with the five-colored Druze star as a faith patch on his uniform. "This is Lieutenant Kamal Arslan of the Solzhenitsyn. My comrades and I have removed Colonel Freeman from command of this ship. We will not defend General Erhart's betrayal of our principles, and I call upon the crews of all other ships in this fleet to do the same. Fighting alongside Erhart is endangering our souls."
Snow breathed out something between a cry of happy surprise and a sigh of relief. There are sane people in that fleet after all! She felt like a prayer she'd never entirely made was nevertheless being answered.
"Don't cheer too quickly," Ostrovsky warned. "Erhart's ships will turn on them."
Snow watched as, a moment later, Ostrovsky's prediction was fulfilled. Two of the destroyers in Erhart's forces turned their guns on the Solzhenitsyn and opened fire.
At least, they started to. One, after taking a few shots, powered down its weapons. Their trajectory changed and they took up a supporting position alongside the wounded cruiser.
"Conn, communications. Master Thirteen just signaled." There was excitement in the Uriel comm officer's voice. "They're standing down and siding with the Solzhenitsyn."
The second destroyer loosed a few missiles before it too ceased fire. The ship then burned hard in another direction, rapidly shifting around in a chaotic pattern. "She's lost navigational control," de la Hoya observed.
The ship straightened out a moment later. "General hail from Master Twelve."
A female voice came over the line. "This is Captain Marian Lewis, XO of the Gerald Bull. I've seized command from Major Oostwouder. We are conforming movements with General Ostrovsky's command."
"Conn, TAO. It appears the other light ships are doing the same, sir," Major Singh reported. "They're breaking off attack runs. The entire squadron's gone over." There was gratification in the Sikh man's voice at his next request. "Permission to re-designate as friendlies?"
"Permission granted," de la Hoya replied, a small grin on her face.
"Aye aye, sir. Re-designating Master Ten through Fifteen and Eighteen as Sierra Twenty-three through Twenty-nine." Singh's action reflected on the holotank. Snow watched all of those remaining contacts switch to blue.
But the fight wasn't over. "Conn, TAO. Master Twenty-one continues to engage us."
"Navigation, take evasive action," de la Hoya began. "TAO, firing point procedures, Master Twenty-one. Engage where feasible, but right now, our goal is to stay alive."
Snow almost asked why she'd gone on the defensive like that, but a check of the holotank told her why.
As contact after contact turned blue on the tactical picture, David felt elation form inside. Thank you, Adonai, for steering their hearts. This sentiment turned to some disappointment when the Exodus fleet cruiser, Master Twenty-one on the screen, did not turn.
"Conn, TAO, Master Twenty-one launched another salvo of missiles and mag-cannon rounds," Ruth said. "The Uriel's deflectors are down. They can't take much more."
The disappointment grew, and with it came a moment of reflection as David recalled all of the times he'd been as stubborn. It was something that came naturally to the Coalition's services. A willingness to defy the odds, fueled by a belief one was in the right, and had Providence on their side. The idea came that this effectively cast him and his ship in the role of being the League battlewagon coming after the heroic Coalition cruiser. It was not a pleasant idea, and he forced the analogy from his mind. He stared at his tactical viewer, and the effective range of the Lion's weapons. "TAO, firing point procedures, Master Twenty-one, forward VRLS. Make tubs forty through sixty ready in all respects, and open the outer doors."
"Aye aye, sir," Ruth called back. "Firing solutions locked, tubes forty through sixty ready in all respects. Outer doors are open."
"Match bearings, shoot, tubes forty through sixty."
Seconds later, the deck rumbled as nearly two dozen anti-ship missiles roared out of the Lion of Judah's forward vertical launch array, headed straight for the Exodus Fleet cruiser. The hostile ship began evasive maneuvering to evade the weapons. Point-defense weapons fired into the missiles' paths.
The Hunter missiles' enhanced AI systems calculated ways around the incoming walls of alloy projectiles. They weaved through the trails of magnetically-propelled anti-missile rounds with precision beyond human capability. Even though the sheer quantity of point-defense fire would cause some hits, David was sure it wouldn't be enough—and it wasn't. One by one, the warheads that got through the point-defenses struck home. The cruiser's deflectors, already tried by the attacks from Ostrovsky's squadron, strained to absorb the strikes. The first few impacts, indeed, had minimal effect.
But only the first few.
Missile after missile went through the weakened deflectors, impacting against the cruiser's armored hull. Two of its mag-cannon turrets were blown to pieces by direct hits while other warheads slammed into the engine spaces and different sections of the cruiser.
When the strike was done, the enemy ship was still intact. But it was severely damaged. A few more well-placed shots and it would likely lose combat ability.
"Communications, put me on," he instructed Tyler. When the comm officer nodded, David spoke up. "This is Colonel Cohen to Exodus fleet ship. Stand down and we'll hold fire. I say again, stand down and we'll hold fire. There's no more need to fight."
An immediate reply came. "To Earth and victory!" a male voice shouted.
"Conn, TAO. Master Twenty-one still has weapons lock," Ruth warned.
David grimaced. ""TAO, firing point procedures, Master Twenty-one. Neutron beams. Aim for their weapons emplacements, only." He knew it was a tall order, but it was one that he felt morally obligated to make.
Ruth issued no complaint at it either. She took aim and fired, directing the neutron beam emitters as best she could for that means.
Given the range, most of her shots missed. The cruiser still had too much in the way of maneuvering power. Recovering deflector strength stopped a couple of glancing hits.
But where Ruth struck home, she struck home well. One neutron cannon beam cut into the engineering spaces, killing half of the cruiser's engines. Another took out its main mag-cannon armament. A third beam sliced through the missile cell on the vessel, causing a chain reaction that blew up the launcher and the missiles loaded within. The resulting explosion threw pieces of debris into the ship's adjoining sections.
Ruth glanced back at David. "Conn, TAO. Heavy damage inflicted on Master Twenty-one."
"Are they standing down?"
"No, sir. They're still maneuvering to engage."
David bit his lip. God help me. "Then—"
"General hail from the hostile cruiser, sir, identifying as the Bernadotte."
Hope filled David at Tyler's interruption. "Put them on."
After a moment, a voice came over the line. "This is Major Adam Tappan of the Bernadotte. I've seized command from Colonel Lukas and I'm ordering a stand-down. I repeat, we are standing down. Please cease fire."
David glanced toward Ruth. "TAO?"
"Master Twenty-one has powered down weapon systems and lowered deflectors," Ruth confirmed.
"Cease combat evolution on Master Twenty-one." David said the words with relief, even as his mind reminded him this wasn't over. There were more ships still on the station that might be ready to continue fighting. The tide is turning, please see that. For Heaven's sake, stop this!
43
There was silence in the Exodus Station command room. Erhart's focus was on Smythe, who was clearly uncomfortable with what he had to report. "Sierra Twenty-one has surrendered, sir," he said.
"Was taken by mutiny, you mean," Erhart said. As he spoke, he noticed the eyes of the officers around him. He didn't like what he saw. "Status on our other ships? We're supposed to have four launching now, right, General?"
"Wallenstein and Beauregard are free of the docks. We've lost contact with the Alaric and Rasmussen." Farley swallowed. "All of our ships on Ready Ten status are failing to confirm launch readiness has improved."
Colonel Ze'evi stood from his chair nearby. "General, we should consider heading to one of the other ships with every Marine we have left. Tarling's forces are down, and the enemy's on their way here. We could still escape, sir."
Erhart responded with a sullen, angry look. "That would entail abandoning the Exodus Fleet and my plans, Colonel. That's all that matters."
"With all due respect, sir, the plan's no longer viable," Farley answered. "The junior officers and enlisted crews are turning on us, that much is clear. You won't be able to take away enough ships to make the planned attack on Earth."
"All I need is one of those bombardment ships," Erhart snarled. He couldn't keep the emotion from his face. His people were failing him. Betraying him.
Farley grimaced. "Sir, we've lost. All we can accomplish in a fight is killing more of our people."
I've come so far. So close. I can't give up now. I must finish this! Erhart stood. The rage showed on his face, bound with determination and all the authority he could still wield. "Listen to me, all of you! We haven't lost yet! And every one of you knows what happens if we lose. The Peace Union wins the election, they make peace at any cost, and the League gets to recover. The war will go on until they grind us to nothing. We have to make this work! We have to fight back against the cowards who refuse to take the necessary measures. So I want every damn one of you with a rifle ready to hold the line until we get our bombardment ships away." He pulled his sidearm from his hip holster. "Or I'll shoot you down myself!"
Silence filled the room. Every man and woman turned toward him, from Farley to Smythe to the remaining Marines holding the main door.
"Understood, sir," Farley said. He stood. "We'll get to the armories."
Even as he spoke, Erhart's eyes scanned the room. As they moved over Smythe, he noticed Smythe's hand freeing his sidearm from the holster on his hip. Smythe's eyes met his, and he could see the raw focus in them, the sentiment of a crossed point of decision that wasn't going to be undone.
Unfortunately for Smythe, Erhart already had his pistol in hand. He brought it up and fired. Given the short distances of the command deck, aiming was easy. The shot caught Smythe in the chest, just below the neck. He went down.
"Order on the command deck! Marines, protect the General!" Ze'evi shouted, going for his weapon. Farley did as well.
Everyone did, in fact, and for a chaotic few seconds, nobody could be sure of who was on which side. Only as a majority of the guns turned on Erhart was it made clear that they were not going to be protecting him.
He fired again, this time catching the comm officer in the shoulder. Ze'evi's shot found another of the officers.
Farley didn't get a chance to fire. Three guns focused on him. One shot missed, barely, but two struck home on his chest and the side of his head. He fell where he stood, likely dead.
"This way, General!" Ze'evi shouted. With no choice, Erhart followed his voice toward the nearest exit from the deck. Two of the Marines had their rifles up and sprayed suppressive fire. One of Farley's killers went down while trying to move forward and give chase. The other officers, recognizing the danger, took cover.
They needn't have bothered. Just as Erhart passed the Marines still loyal to him, the other Marines in the room turned their rifles against them. He got through the door just as they opened fire, Ze'evi coming up behind him. "Run, General!" Ze'evi urged, turning with his pistol raised.
A moment later, several rounds ripped through Ze'evi. His blood sprayed the nearby wall, barely missing Erhart.
It was all wrong. Everything. His loyal officers were dead or out of touch. Everyone else was now a foe. He was a general without an army.
Victory was within my grasp. Now I'm nothing but a fugitive.
Without options, he headed for his office.
On the Lion of Judah bridge, David watched the two cruisers now clear of the yards. "TAO, scan those vessels. Are they hostile?"
"Their deflectors are up. But they're not in range yet." Ruth noticed something on her board. "Wait. Their shields just dropped and they're decelerating."
"Conn, communications. Getting a signal from the two ships, sir," Tyler said. "They're standing down."
"It looks like the ships coming online have stopped," Ruth added. She turned to David. "The deflectors on the station just went down too. I think it's over, sir."
David wasn't ready to celebrate yet. Not until he was sure. But he couldn't keep the hope filling him from going away. Is it over? Lord, please, let it be over.
"Signal from the station, sir. It's Colonel Demood."
"Put him on."
To David's elation, Calvin was at the same place Erhart had occupied before. His faceplate was retracted and his expression spoke of grim satisfaction. "We've done it, Colonel, General. Exodus Station's ours."
"Losses?" David asked.
"Too many, on both sides." Calvin's satisfaction faded. "Most of the crew and junior officers have turned on Erhart openly, and the rest are surrendering. At your word, we'll start shuttling Marines over to take control of any holdout ships."
"That won't be necessary, Colonel," Ostrovsky said over the link. "It looks like Erhart's people are surrendering en masse now. We're getting dozens of signals from the Exodus Fleet ships to that effect."
"Then it's over," David said. "What about Erhart?"
"He fled, but he's got nowhere to go. Our Marines have all the exits from the command section covered, and Captain Henry's actively hunting for him." Calvin smiled grimly. "We'll get our man soon enough."
"Very well. Keep me informed. Colonel Cohen, please commence post-combat procedures." Ostrovsky's face tightened into a somber expression. "We have lives to save."
"Aye aye, sir."
"We'll convene on the station at the first opportunity. Ostrovsky out."
The channel closed for the moment. Now David couldn't hold back the relief he felt, tinged by guilt and grief as it was. He felt sick in his heart at everything that had transpired.
"Lord, what could have caused this?" Ruth asked aloud. "It's one thing to fight the League, but this was straight out of a nightmare. Having to fight our own people like this."
"It was a nightmare, and it's over now," David said softly. I need to see Rabbi Kravitz as soon as I can. Maybe he can help me make sense of this.
"I hope they throw Erhart in a hole for this," Hammond said from the helm. Her voice was unnaturally harsh.
"He'll pay for it, that I'm sure of," David said, while in his heart, he prayed for justice to be done. Captain Henry, I hope you do the right thing. Vengeance is for God, not for men.
Henry stormed around the command deck with a singular purpose, moving so fast that Yanik and Tia had to struggle to keep up. "Do you even know where he is?" Tia asked.
"Colonel Demood is tying our suits into the station's sensors," Yanik said. "We should have readings shortly."
Henry nodded, but he didn't need those. The station's layout was familiar to him here, a standard Coalition command deck for a space station. The command offices were nearby.
In one passageway, they found a pair of battle-armored Marines standing at a door. Henry didn't raise his weapon, but he didn't stop going. The Marines immediately stepped to the sides. "The General's inside," one said. "He's sealed the door, and we don't have the kit to get through."
"Sometimes you don't need kits," Henry commented. "Yanik, some help?"
Immediately, he felt guilty, given Yanik's injuries. Or rather, a part of him did. The rest of him was too eager for the moment to come. After sixteen years, he'd finally have satisfaction.
Yanik didn't so much as make a sound of displeasure as he came up to the door. While a bulkhead door could resist him, this was a typical sliding door, and with a loud hiss of effort, Yanik was able to get his talons in and force it open.
Henry slipped under him and into the office, pistol raised and ready. He pointed it toward the desk and Erhart. His finger tensed on the trigger at the sight before him and, after a moment taken to aim, his trigger finger squeezed.
The resulting shot struck Erhart in the right forearm, just as the barrel of his pistol was about to reach his chin. He gasped in agony, and his hand opened, releasing the weapon onto the desk as he crumbled to his knees.
"Some privacy please, Yanik."
Yanik wordlessly closed the door at Henry's request, leaving Henry with Erhart.
Erhart's arm moved up to the desk surface. Henry dashed forward, switching the grip of his pistol as he did. He brought the pistol's butt down on Erhart's hand just as his fingers reached for the gun. A low crack came to the air from the impact, smashing two of the knuckles in Erhart's hand. He cried out in pain and slipped back.
Henry meticulously and deliberately pulled the gloves from his combat armor, baring his hands.
Sixteen years of shame. Sixteen years of guilt. Of being an outcast from the service he'd sworn his life to. That alone screamed in Henry's mind. But it didn't scream alone, as a host of new offenses and insults had been tallied against him by Erhart. The arrest from his uncle's deathbed was a raw wound in his heart, one that Uncle Charlie's death had ripped a hole through. Erhart's actions had also led to his need to fire on the Dante and kill innocent CDF spacers, not to mention the fight they'd just waged and the injuries his crew endured.
By the time he passed around the desk to face Erhart directly, Henry needed an outlet for the fury. And he found it. He brought his right fist back and landed a punch on Erhart so strong, it might've knocked the man out. He went flying back into the desk and rolled over to the floor.
That wasn't enough. It couldn't be. With a scowl on his face and rage in his heart, Henry took a step before planting a vicious kick to Erhart's ribs. The older man cried out as he was forced over onto his back. Henry reached down, grabbed him, and forced Erhart against the wall.
