Hannah Sawyer (Kinsella Universe Book 3), page 34
“Lieutenant Shapiro? Who is missing?”
“Zodiac malfed on the rail gun,” Lynn told Hannah.
Hannah leaned her head against the instruments in front of her. The instruments knew enough to ignore her head.
“They told us they expected to recover him but we couldn’t wait to hear the results,” Lynn told her.
“None of you have any business here,” Hannah told her.
“Of course not. And, for all intents and purposes, we’re not. We’re simply following the same course until you do your thing. Then we’ll be in a position to meet and slow you down.”
Hannah was silent for a moment. “I transferred to the weapon.”
Lynn sighed. She’d have done the same thing. “Yeah, well, we’ve done something more ourselves. A dozen pilots volunteered to run up to the same velocity as the weapon, and head down as well. Some will be ahead of you, some behind. They will all drop on the same tick as you do.”
Hannah was furious. “And the point of their deaths?”
“Hyper-kinetic energy strikes against the planet, Hannah. Admiral Kinney says that if we’re going to do this, they have to know how weak and puny their defenses are when we put our minds to it.”
Two hours later Hannah’s High Fan signature vanished from the track and a fraction of a second later, her low fan signature was gone as well. At that point, nearly two hundred missiles were chasing her. The stealthed passive satellite survived what happened next.
* * *
Hannah sat at the shuttle’s controls, watching the numbers run. At almost the last second she glanced up and saw Gloria standing next to her. Gloria shrugged and Hannah shrugged back.
“I love you,” Hannah told Gloria. Gloria held out her hand and Hannah reached out to take it...
The universe turned inside out.
Chapter 15
Roberta Kinney stood in the Board Room, contemplating her officers.
She’d seen her image in the mirror before she came here. She was a living skeleton, not a human being anymore. She could stand in for a scarecrow, if she had to. So could any of the people regarding her.
“I have ordered our withdrawal to Adobe,” she told them bluntly. “I briefly thought about trying to blow out one of the gas giants, but the boffins tell me that even though it’s unlikely to take lethal damage, the bombardment by the debris from the planet that Lieutenant Sawyer destroyed will, over the next few months, make it a very unpleasant place to live.
“We are entitled to claim having fulfilled our mission objectives. I, for one, will file a contrarian report. We learned a great deal and should have been satisfied with that. General Patton said it so very long ago and some of us have forgotten: the goal is to have the other poor son-of-a-bitches die for their country. Not us. Not ever people like Ulrike and Light Huygeens, Hannah Sawyer and all the rest.
“It was the worst sort of exchange. But there at the end, we were all insane. All of us.
“You are to go from this meeting and rest for a minimum of twenty-four hours. I assure you that I am deadly serious when I say that any pilot, any operations or training personnel, any tech, any one, in short, involved with fighting this ship, will be cashiered if I find they’ve been out and about.”
* * *
Captain Richard Mehlman leaned back and rubbed his eyes. The after-action report that Rome submitted upon return home was going to be the most important document of the war, to date. He’d been tasked with it, and it was proving difficult.
There was a soft knock on the door of his office and he looked up to see Commander Shoreham. “Dennis,” he said politely, “come in, please.”
“Captain. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you for a while.”
“Dennis, we’ve all been just a little busy.”
“Sir, I hate to sound like a whiner, but, well, I have a problem, and I was hoping you would hear me out and perhaps have a word with Captain Sanchez or Admiral Kinney.”
Captain Mehlman had a much greater appreciation these days for all of his mistakes. Dennis Shoreham had been one of them. His report about Shoreham was already filed and he had no intention of changing it. Dennis was going to spend the rest of his career aground, in some base or other. He had no business on a ship.
“What is it, Dennis?”
“Sir, as you know, we came away from our deployment with six more fighters than pilots. Sir, they’ve started recruiting pilots. I mean, Commander Merriweather and the others. They just reach out and, using an old Fleet Directive on the importance of pilots, snap up anyone they want who is a qualified pilot. They’ve started a special ‘fighter transition’ class aboard Rome.”
Captain Mehlman had been told once by a friend that when he was trying to bluff, you could see a vein in his neck quiver. He’d spent nearly two years trying to stop that quiver. He could feel his neck quivering like never before.
His first words were contemptible, but then, what was Commander Shoreham? “Did they snag you, Dennis?”
“No, of course not! I’m not flight certified! But two of my people have been. How can I run a department when my best people can be dragged away like that? The worst of them are that Shapiro woman and the crazy Marine. Zodiac, I think his name is. They just delight in finding someone qualified in a technical slot and then shanghaiing them.”
Captain Mehlman smiled slightly. “This is your lucky day, Dennis.”
“Captain?”
“I learned a number of bitter lessons on this deployment. I am, I think, a much better officer because of it. I am concerned about you, Dennis, because I believe that you are the worst sort of officer.” He reached to his belt and pulled his phone off and set it on the desk. He started toying with it, spinning it around on the table top.
“I was contemplating calling Captain Sanchez and reminding him that Hannah Sawyer hadn’t been flight qualified before she started transition. We have, after all, nearly another six months before we’re home. We can’t just stand still, Dennis. And then giving him your name for fighter transition.
“Then I remembered I’ve already written a report recommending your relief when we return. Dennis, I’m sorry to say, I don’t think it would be a useful thing, turning you over to the training officers of Rome’s fighter squadrons. You are hopelessly incompetent.”
Captain Mehlman waved at the door. “You’ve wasted enough of too many people’s time, Dennis. Return to your duty billet, shut your mouth and do as you’re told -- or arrive home having been relieved.”
“You were relieved, too! Why would they listen to you?”
“Why, that’s because I requested additional duty of any sort whatsoever and my request was granted, Dennis. I’d like to think I’ve done my duty well, even if it wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing. You, on the other hand, are as clueless as the day you came aboard.”
* * *
“Richard Sawyer?”
Richard lifted his eyes from the papers on the desk in front of him, to see a young woman, very young and very short, standing a few meters in front of his desk.
“Yes, and you’re who?” he asked, sounding genial, even though his foot was pressing his panic button.
She was not only short, but exceedingly thin. That and she was wearing the dress uniform jacket of a Fleet captain. She should have done her homework there, Richard thought. Fleet doesn’t make women her age captains, war or no war. He doubted if she was even twenty. And the medals were all wrong, too. Two rows on the right and not even one single ribbon on the left? A single ship pin was all.
“I’m Captain Donna Merriweather, Mr. Sawyer. I served with your daughter.”
That got his attention. “And how is my daughter?”
The woman took a small case from under her arm and tossed it towards him. It landed on his desk, sending papers kiting in every direction as it skidded to a stop in front of him.
“Those are her medals and your official notification of her death. Hannah was killed in combat six months ago, leading a strike against an enemy planet.”
“Hannah’s dead?” He shook his head, sounding neither surprised, nor in the least bereaved. “I can’t believe it!” And where was Security? He pressed the button again and again.
Another stranger entered, a little older, male, wearing the same jacket as the woman, only one of the three stripes was wavy. Believable on him, although he was still a bit young.
“Everything is secure, Kaiserin.” The newcomer glanced sardonically at Richard.
“No, your security won’t be coming. They are currently discussing their duty assignments with some Federation Marines.
“Richard Sawyer, an investigation of your business has revealed a considerable number of discrepancies in accounting to the Federation. You, sir, are under arrest.”
“I think not,” Richard said positively, smiling derisively at the man.
“Once upon a time Hannah Sawyer flew my wing,” the captain informed him in a quiet voice. “The last thing she said to me, just before she left on her last mission was: ‘Remember me to the smiling bastard.’”
Richard was startled, then more so when the officer drew his sidearm with a smooth move, aiming it as it came level with Richard’s head. “I can’t think of anything I’ll ever enjoy more.”
“Ernesto!” the woman’s voice rang with the steel of command. The man’s eyes flicked towards the diminutive officer. She went on, “I hate paper work! If you shoot him we’ll both have paper work for weeks! Don’t, please.”
“Kaiserin!” his voice was flat and he clicked his heels and gave her the slightest bow of his head; all very Teutonic. Kaiserin, that was German for Empress, Richard remembered that from school. An Empress? In the Fleet? In the Federation?
He’d just remembered Campbell’s World, when the door to the office opened again. This time admitting three combat-fatigue dressed Marines. The man in the lead spoke to the Captain with the wavy stripe. “Captain Sanchez, the location is secure. The arrests, except for this one, have been accomplished without incident.”
The man nodded. “And Captain Merriweather told the good sir that he’s busted. Shackles, Sergeant Major, shackles.”
Richard sat up straight. Shackles? No!
He started to get up, only to be brought up short by the senior officer earring the hammer back on his pistol.
“Oh, please, you smiling bastard, just do something, anything! Anything at all that might make me think you intend to resist! Please!”
“You’ll hear from my lawyers! My Federation Senator!” Richard Sawyer said heatedly, letting them put on the steel cuffs around his arms and then manacles on his legs.
“The last refuge of incompetents: calling for their lawyers. And you know someone is seriously adrift when he calls for his politician,” opined the senior Marine NCO. He turned to the man with the pistol. “Now, if you would, Captain, my people would like a little peace of mind. Put that damn thing back in your pocket.”
The other blinked, then did as bid.
The Marine turned to Richard. “Sir, I served with Lieutenant Sawyer on Rome. A tall drink of a girl. She was scared to death at first, yet, she went out -- every time. Nine out of ten of our pilots died, Mr. Sawyer. Your daughter went out, again and again and again and again, over and over; twice as often as anyone else. And the last time, she delivered a Fleet missile to their doorstep. We had less than a hundred fighters left, then. The rest... Space gas.” He sighed heavily.
“Fifteen thousand of us on Rome owe Missy Sawyer our lives. She allowed us to come home, our mission accomplished. Now, they’ve given her the Federation Star, same as they did Turbine Jensen. And, you, you smiling son-of-a-bitch! Give me one little excuse and I’ll break every bone in your body.” He motioned at the woman. “And the captain won’t have any paper work; it’ll be my pleasure, ‘cause you will still be alive afterwards.”
“It’s going to be my personal pleasure,” Richard said with heat, “seeing every last one of you up on charges.” He was trying to regain some high ground.
The Marine barked laughter. “You don’t understand, do you, Sawyer? Half the human race is dead, the rest of us are fighting for our lives! There is no time for people like you! Men who seek profit first and the hell with the rest of us!
“Later today you will stand before a Federation Special Board. One, maybe two days later, if your lawyer is any good, you’ll be shot. And if your lawyer isn’t any good, it will be lights out by sundown tonight.”
The Gunny gestured and two of his Marines led Richard Sawyer out of the office. In the outer offices people stood watching, faces pale, as he shambled through their midst.
He wasn’t smiling.
Gina Marie Wylie, Hannah Sawyer (Kinsella Universe Book 3)
