Honor Bound

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kevin,” O’Keefe said, waving the concern away. “My press secretary will coordinate with you. I’m sure we can work out the details.” He leaned forward, his hands flat on the desktop, his expression adamant. “Besides,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument, his eyes fierce with conviction, “by the power invested in me by the citizens of the Republic… I insist.”

“You know,” Ari commented softly, “this was fucking genius, pardon my French.”

“It certainly was,” Shannon agreed, mouth turning up in a wry smile. “I wish I had thought of it, but it was Val’s idea. It’s elegant, simple and has the potential to completely fuck up the plans of whoever’s behind this.”

The two of them were sequestered in a small, unoccupied office not too far from the Capitol building, monitoring the President’s office.

“We have a positive pairing with Fourcade’s ‘link,” Ari reported, checking a readout on the surveillance device on the folding table in front of him. “He’s got some serious security software on there, but we got around it.” He shrugged. “I hope. Otherwise, we’re being spoofed so well we can’t even realize it.”

“He’s left the office,” Shannon observed. “He’ll be making the call soon.”

“And here it comes,” Ari noted. “He’s calling the office of the Executive Council right now.” He cross-checked the information. “The number is just a switchboard system.”

“Fourcade,” the lobbyist spoke into his ‘link, “calling for the Director.” Ari’s mouth shaped a silent whistle. Brendan Riordan, the Director of the multicorps’ Executive Council, was one of the three most important men in the Republic.

“Yes, sir,” the switchboard program responded with a cheerful female voice. “One moment.”

The hold was very brief, which Shannon found impressive, given Riordan’s status.

“Kevin,” Riordan’s voice answered in a basso profundo like boulders crashing on a mountainside. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir,” Fourcade said, his voice respectful but tense, “President O’Keefe has… had a change of heart about 1143B. He’s decided to come out in support of it.”

“Well,” Riordan temporized, his deep voice going up an octave, “that’s… interesting, isn’t it?”

“It gets more interesting. He wants to come out publically with this position Wednesday night… and instead of doing it during his scheduled address to the Senate, he’s planning on having a press conference at the Headquarters in Houston… and he wants you and the rest of the Executive Council in attendance.”

“I’m sure you told him that’s not possible, given how little warning…”

“Sir, he is not taking no for an answer,” Fourcade interrupted. “He said if he needs to, he’ll invoke the Emergency Reconvening Act of 2,104 and call a meeting of the Senate and the Council in Houston.”

“Well then,” Riordan said after a moment’s consideration, “I suppose we have some calls to make, don’t we? Some things will need to be rescheduled.”

“Yes, sir,” Fourcade replied, sounding even more harried, “but there are events that are pre-arranged and it may be difficult to communicate the schedule changes in time to assure a viable outcome.”

“Kevin,” Riordan rumbled with an unmistakable tone of finality, “that is your problem.”

The connection ended but Shannon and Ari could hear Fourcade mutter “Goddammit,” over the ‘link’s open pickup.

“And the plot thickens,” Shannon commented. She glanced up at Ari. “Keep monitoring his communications. I’ll send Tom to help out.”

“And what mischief will you be up to, ma’am?” Ari asked with a grin.

“Captain Shamir,” she told him, “I think that Valerie O’Keefe has been missing for quite long enough.”

* * *

Commander Larry Gianeto embraced the misery of two g acceleration, trying to slow down his heart rate and breathing and go with the rhythm of the labored rise and fall of his too-heavy chest as he kept his eyes glued to the screen and the threat icons before and behind them.

“Shipbuster is thirty seconds out from the bogie behind us,” he choked out. “Their countermeasures went off, but it’s still on target.” A few tense seconds went by and then the icon for the Shipbuster and that of the Protectorate ship chasing them merged on the screen. “Warhead didn’t ignite,” he said, checking the scanners. “Must have been damaged by the countermeasures. But I’m getting debris readings… and thermal flares. His drive has gone dead too! Must have impacted the ship!’ Even without a fusion warhead, the Shipbuster could severely damage or even destroy an unshielded ship; it was hundreds of tons of mass accelerating at over ten gravities. “Now all we have to worry about is the guys in front of us. Can’t be much longer.”

Then he saw the faint lidar bounceback in the space between them and the two Protectorate ships ahead. “There it is… we got Gauss rounds incoming. They could be shooting at the Shipbusters, but they’ll hit us in ten minutes. Shipbusters still inbound and five minutes out.”

“Is that like, habit?” Lt. Francis Witten asked, grimacing in what might have been an attempt at a grin. “I mean, you’re the acting Captain, so you’re kind of talking to yourself, right?”

Gianeto scowled at him. “If anything happens to me,” he ground out, “you and Higgs need to know the situation. Didn’t they teach you that in Bridge Officer’s school?”

“Hard to remember,” Witten admitted. “Never had a Captain get injured in a knife fight before.”

“I appreciate it,” Lt. Higgs commented from the Communications station. “Hard to keep an eye on my station and the screen too.”

“There go their countermeasures,” Gianeto reported as simulated explosions lit up the screen, displaying data too far away for the optical cameras to pick up. “And… yeah, was waiting for that. They’ve each launched two Shipbusters.”

“I guess they’ve figured out that Duncan isn’t going to be able to sabotage us,” Higgs said.

“Too bad the docs couldn’t save him,” Witten commented. “Been nice to be able to question him and find out how the hell the Protectorate got to him.” He frowned, looked over to the Communications officer. “Hey Janice,” he said, “can you pull up his records?”

“What’s publically available anyway,” she said with a half-shrug. “Born in Capetown, South Africa, graduated tenth in his class from the Fleet Academy, class of 2,190. He started out as the Tactical Officer on the Patton-they still called them ‘Weapons’ Officers’ then-until the ship returned from a trip to Aphrodite back five years ago, then he applied to Command College and finished top of his class. Promoted to Commander shortly after and served on the Bradley before spending the last year on staff at Fleet HQ. I know he volunteered for this mission when Commander Durant broke his back rock climbing a week before we were scheduled to leave.” She gasped a bit as she finished, from the strain of talking so much during the 2g burn.

“Wasn’t that convenient,” Witten snorted.

“I’m not liking how this is sounding,” Higgs said.

“We have more pressing concerns right now,” Gianeto reminded them. “Four Shipbusters and a whole bunch of big metal slugs just a few minutes out.”

Suddenly there was a fierce, white globe visible on the optical viewers. “That was one of our Shipbusters,” Gianeto announced, excitement in his voice. “Negative detonation on the other one… the countermeasures or the Gauss rounds must have taken it out. Ha! Got one of them!” The threat icon on the right side of the viewscreen flickered out.

“Just one left between us and the gate,” Witten said hopefully.

“Thirty seconds until the Gauss rounds impact,” Gianeto said. “Engineering, power up the antimatter reactor. Francis, kill the plasma burn and activate the Eysselink drive now.”

The pressure of two gravities lifted from their chests as the plasma drive shut down and Gianeto gulped in a huge breath of air, then had to fight not to throw up.

“Drive field is up,” Witten told him. “Station keeping.” He checked a readout. “We can maintain station keeping status for a while, but we ain’t going anywhere.”

“We’ve deflected the Gauss rounds,” Gianeto said, eyes glued to the tactical screen. “Shipbusters are only seconds out. The enemy ship is still accelerating…” He snarled a feral grin. “Three g’s acceleration, ramming course!”

Alarms sounded throughout the ship and Gianeto steeled himself just before what felt like the weight of a