Ian Douglas - Singularity

There were times when he was forced to walk an extremely narrow path between his oath to the Confederation … and his allegiance to the USNA.

“We’re … what?” he said. “Ten hours out from Emergence?”

“Yes, sir,” Buchanan replied.

“We don’t know if Giraurd followed us.”

“We don’t need him,” Wizewski said. “The USNA reinforcements are solidly with us. I think the Chinese are too.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Koenig said. “If the Pan-Europeans followed us from Alphekka, they might try to force the issue when we emerge.”

Buchanan nodded. “Giraurd didn’t seem all that happy when you told him off.”

“No. And his orders are to bring us back. But … I’m not ready to do that yet. We haven’t finished what we’ve started.”

“Do you expect a fight, Admiral?” Wizewski asked.

“It’s at least a possibility. And we need to be ready, just in case. No matter what Giraurd decides to do.”

“If he was smart,” Buchanan said, “he turned around and headed back to Earth to report. Tell them that we weren’t playing nice.”

“His orders might not allow that,” Koenig replied. “In fact, he may be under orders to take us under fire if we refuse to go back. He was certainly threatening as much when we started accelerating out-system from Alphekka.”

“Threats,” Wizewski said. “Blusters and bluff.”

“Maybe. But, as I said, I want to be prepared for anything. CAG, I’m going to have you put everything we have into space as soon as we emerge. We’ll pass the word to the other carriers to do the same as soon as we’ve re-established contact. Randy? I want you to make sure America stays well clear of the Pan-Europeans if and when they emerge. Don’t let them sidle up close for a conference. Don’t allow them to send over small craft to discuss things. And be ready to put out a warning shot if they do try to force their way inside our primary defensive zone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Koenig looked at Wizewski. “CAG? How are the reorganized squadrons shaping up?”

“Not as good as I’d like, Admiral. The new recruits have been training hard on the sims, but that won’t haul much mass when they hit the real thing.”

Koenig nodded. America ’s squadrons had taken fearsome losses at Alphekka; one had been reduced to just three fighters.

“I hope to God they don’t get their baptism of fire against humans,” he said. “But if it’s a matter of guaranteeing the safety of this carrier …”

“They’ll do what they have to, Admiral. They all will. I don’t think any of them care all that much for the Confederation, when it comes to that. Their loyalty is to the USNA, to America, to you and me, to their buddies. … Hell, I think Geneva comes in somewhere way down on the list. Fiftieth or sixtieth, maybe.”

“I want you to impress on the squadron leaders, CAG, that their squadrons will not open fire on human ships unless they receive a direct and confirmed order from you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If there’s a diplomatic way to resolve this, I’m going to take it. The last thing I want is to add a civil war to the war we already have.”

“I understand, Admiral.”

“I know you do. See to it that they understand as well.”

There was little more that could be said.

Koenig dismissed the two of them, and returned to his brooding thoughts.

Star Chamber

Ad Astra Confederation Government Complex

Geneva, European Union

0950 hours, TFT

President Regis DuPont hated the place. It felt so exposed … so empty .

Well … it was filled with stars, of course, but somehow that made it even worse.

The star chamber was a planetarium and more, much more—an immense sphere a hundred meters across, the inner surface designed to project imagery relayed from the big astrogational complex at Bern. Near stars were shown scattered across the interior space, scattered through three dimensions; more distant stars and the glowing, ragged lace-work of the Milky Way were projected against the curving inner surfaces.

Followed closely by a small knot of people, his personal security detachment and presidential aides, DuPont walked out onto the narrow catwalk leading to the viewing platform suspended at the sphere’s center. The others were waiting for him there already, a dozen Confederation senators in civilian dress, their shoulders and sleeves heavy with the gold and silver brocade, aiguillettes, medals, and intertwining decorations that declared their importance.

There were no military officers present, though, and DuPont wondered why.

For that matter, he didn’t see any senators with military experience—or any representing outworld colonies, like Andrews or Kristofferson.

Sometimes it was possible to judge which way the political winds were blowing by noting who was present … or absent.

“Mr. President,” Senator Eunice Noyer said, nodding. “Thank you for coming.”

“Why here ?” he asked. “Why not at ConGov?”

“Because,” Noyer said, “the America Battlegroup could pose a problem. We’re trying to determine just where Koenig is going now.”

“Surely that’s something the Confederation Military Directorate could advise you on,” DuPont said. “The Joint Chiefs, I gather, have been following Koenig’s campaign with great interest.”

Noyer made a face. “ They’re no help. Not to us.”

“They may well be in collusion with one another,” Senator Sheehan added. “Carruthers wasn’t supposed to send Koenig reinforcements. He was supposed to order Koenig to return to Earth.”

“The military,” Senator Galkin pointed out, “is no longer trustworthy. Carruthers and his cronies need to be reined in, reined in hard. Too much is riding on this. The safety of Earth, of all of Humankind, is at stake.”

“So?” DuPont said with a Gallic shrug. “Where is the battlegroup now?”

“We don’t know for sure.” Noyer told him. “CBG-18 has left Alphekka … but it’s not returning to Earth. According to Giraurd’s report, the CBG is heading for a nondescript star called HD 157950.” The red line drew itself from Alphekka across the sky to the right, touching another star, a dim one. “Ninety-eight light years from Earth. One hundred fourteen light years from Alphekka.”

“That’s not on the Directory,” DuPont said. “What’s there?”

“Nothing, so far as we know. It may be that he intends to take on reaction mass there. Likely it is a waypoint, with the final destination somewhere … farther out.”

Senator Lloyd gestured, and a red beam of light drew itself out from the observation platform, connecting with one of the near stars—a golden-orange sun gleaming at the base of the constellation of Boötis. “On January seventh,” he said in a lecture-hall monotone, “the battlegroup leaves Fleet Rendezvous Percival—Pluto orbit—and does so apparently after learning from an incoming mail packet that the Sh’daar had taken Osiris, at Seventy Ophiuchi.” A fainter star well off to the group’s left flashed bright white. “The battlegroup proceeds to Arcturus, thirty-six light years from Earth, where it engages the ships of several of the Sh’daar client races and rescues a number of human prisoners of war, at Arcturus Station.”

“The plan,” DuPont said, “was to raid deep into Sh’daar space, perhaps forcing the Sh’daar to pull back, at least to delay them.”

“Indeed,” Senator Suvarov said. “There was talk of raiding Eta Boötis after Arcturus. The two are only a few light years apart.”

“Instead,” Noyer said, “Koenig leads his fleet all the way across to here .” Another star, somewhat above and to the left of Arcturus and twice as far away, lit up as the red line connected them. “Alphekka. Seventy-two light years away. If the report is to be believed, he engaged a much larger Sh’daar client force and destroyed a moon-sized construction facility. At this point, he has a large percentage of our defensive fleet engaged seventy-two light years away … while the Sh’daar remain at Osiris, just sixteen light years from Sol. Sixteen light years! The enemy could be here at any moment!”