"So far as the drone was able to determine, all of them are either currently in yard hands or awaiting yard space. I believe they're being refitted in order to disguise their origins as much as possible. Which suggests to me, in turn, that they've been clandestinely provided to Monica. And I can think of only one reason for anyone to do that: to attack the Star Kingdom's interests in the Cluster."
Eleanor Hope shifted in her chair, and Terekhov's blue eyes moved to her.
"You wished to make a comment, Commander?" His emphasis on her rank title was so slight it was almost imagined.
"Yes, Sir. I suppose I did," she said after a brief hesitation.
He moved his right hand, inviting her to continue, and she looked once around the table and drew a deep breath.
"Captain Terekhov, with all due respect, I see no reason to automatically assume these ships were 'clandestinely provided' to President Tyler's navy. ONI reported months ago that the Indefatigables were being retired and replaced by the new Nevada-class ships." She shrugged. "We all know about Tyler's cozy relationship with Frontier Security. If the Sollies are disposing of the Indefatigables, why shouldn't they sell—or even outright give—some of them to somebody who's been their proxy for the last thirty or forty T-years? And if that's the case, or even if there is something 'clandestine' about the way Monica acquired them, it doesn't necessarily follow that they're intended to attack our interests."
Terekhov regarded her mildly, his expression thoughtful, but Anders grimaced.
"If I may, Captain Terekhov?" he asked, and Terekhov nodded.
"Commander FitzGerald," Warlock's CO asked, "are you confident these battlecruisers are being actively refitted at Eroica Station?"
"Yes, Sir, I am," FitzGerald said firmly. "Not all of them are being refitted simultaneously, but those which aren't actively in yard hands are in parking orbits with the space station, and over half have service craft and lighters alongside. There are also two repair ships, each of which is moored alongside one of them. We have optical confirmation that the main broadside sensor arrays on at least three have been removed and are in the process of replacement." It was his turn to shrug slightly. "To me, all of that spells a pattern of mass refits being funneled through limited yard capacity."
"Thank you." Anders looked back at Terekhov, although it was evident he was actually directing his remarks to Hope. "If those ships had been openly provided by the League Navy to Monica, they wouldn't be being refitted at Eroica Station—not unless the object was to make them less capable than they already were. They would've been refitted and brought up to standard in Solly shipyards, where all the necessary support infrastructure and personnel would be available to do the job quickly. If they're being refitted in Monica, instead, then the Monicans are deliberately accepting that their limited facilities are going to bottleneck the entire process. And, like you, Sir, I can't think of anything the Monicans could do to improve the combat power of an -Indefatigable-class battlecruiser. Which suggests they're up to something else, and I believe the suggestion that they're trying to hide, or at least confuse, the ships' origins by disguising their emissions signatures and sensor images makes sense.
"Which brings us to Commander Hope's second point, the question of just who the Monicans might intend to employ their new ships against. What Commander FitzGerald's detected is more firepower than Monica could possibly need to deal with any Verge system, or, for that matter, any dozen Verge systems! The only people I can think of in this neck of the woods that they'd need that much firepower against is us."
"Again, with all due respect, Captain," Hope said just a bit impatiently, "even if you're correct about who the ships might be used against, Monica wouldn't necessarily intend to use them offensively. In fact, it would be stupid of them to even contemplate attacking us, battlecruisers or no battlecruisers. But it's entirely possible that they could be sufficiently concerned by our presence in the Cluster to feel the need for a force able to deter any designs we might have on Monica."
"I think you're reaching, Eleanor," Commander Hewlett said, and Hope looked at her angrily. Hewlett looked at Terekhov, and he nodded permission for her to continue.
"There's no way those battlecruisers would deter us if we really wanted Monica," Gallant's CO said. "A couple of pod SDs could turn all of them into scrap in a half-hour. Besides, Monica's not the kind of star nation that worries about what other people are likely to do to it; it's the kind of star nation that spends all its time trying to think of things to do to other people."
"And just what makes you think they're foolish enough to believe they could use those ships to attack us if they believe they're too weak to deter us, Josepha?" Hope demanded.
"I think Captain Terekhov already answered that question, Eleanor," Hewlett said in a rather pointed tone. "If they think they can convince the League to intervene on their behalf, they can damned well use those ships to create a situation to justify asking for that intervention."
"Or," Hope said stubbornly, "they could be thinking their new battlecruisers might let them stand off a Manticoran attack long enough for the League to intervene on their behalf. In which case," she kept her eyes on Hewlett's face, but Terekhov knew who she was truly speaking to, "actually attacking their system might be the worst thing we could do. If they're ready to invite the Sollies in to defend them, and if the Sollies have already agreed to do that, then the last thing we want to do is to go right ahead and provide them their pretext."
"Under other circumstances, Commander Hope," Terekhov said coolly, "I might be inclined to accept your analysis. Unfortunately, we also know Monica's been involved, as a staging point, at the very least, in a concerted effort by an outside power to provide weapons and funds to terrorists in the Cluster. That, Commander, is indeed an offensive act. Arguably, in fact, an act of war, although the situation's somewhat clouded by the fact that the systems in which they've been aiding and abetting terrorists aren't yet actually Manticoran territory. Based on that fact, I'm disinclined to assume Frontier Security's long-term proxies are forting up in their home system because they anticipate the momentary arrival of Manticoran conquistadors."
Hope's face reddened, and her lips thinned angrily.
"In fact," Terekhov continued, "I assume those ships are part of a strategy aimed at preventing the annexation of the Talbott Cluster by the Star Kingdom. I believe the Jessyk Combine's deeply involved, which, given Jessyk's relationship with Manpower, means Manpower is almost certainly the prime mover. And I need hardly remind any officer in this compartment of all the reasons Manpower would have to want to keep the Star Kingdom as far from Mesa as possible. The presence of so many Solarian-built battlecruisers may very well indicate that Frontier Security's openly backing Monica. I'd like to think even Manpower would find it difficult to come up with the cash to simply buy that many ships of that size for someone like the Monicans. Be that as it may, however, I have no doubt whatsoever that those ships are intended to be used against targets in the Cluster for the purpose of preventing the annexation from being carried to a successful conclusion."
He paused, looking around the compartment, then continued unflinchingly.
"Because I believe that to be the case, I intend to advance to Monica. There, I will require the Monican government to cease all work upon their new battlecruisers until such time as they demonstrate to our satisfaction that those vessels pose no threat to the security of the Star Kingdom or to our friends in the region. Should they refuse, or should they employ military forces against us, I intend to attack Eroica Station and to destroy all of the battlecruisers being refitted there."
"Sir," Hope said, "please tell me you're joking."
"I am not in the habit, Commander," Terekhov said coldly, "of treating the killing of other human beings as a laughing matter."
"Sir," Hope said almost desperately, "what you're talking about is an act of war. An act of war carried out in time of peace against a sovereign star nation without the direction or appr
oval of our own command authority. Sir, it could be legally construed as an act of piracy committed in the Star Kingdom's name! I can't think of a single thing we could do that would damage our interstellar credibility worse in the eyes of the Solarian public."
"The Solarian public, unfortunately, Commander," Terekhov said, "is in the habit of thinking what the spinmasters who work for Frontier Security and the other Solly bureaucracies tell it to think. And there's no time for us to seek the approval of the Admiralty or the Prime Minister. These ships are being refitted now. We have no way of knowing how far advanced the refit process is, how soon some or all of them will become combat-ready. If we delay even a single day longer than we absolutely must, we potentially give the Monicans and their allies in Mesa the time they need to put their plan into operation. Or, at the very least, to kill and wound more of our people when we finally do move to neutralize the threat."
"Sir—" Hope began again.
"My mind is made up, Commander Hope," Terekhov told her flatly in a voice as unyielding as Hexapuma's battle steel bones. "If nothing else, think of it this way. If we move in before those battlecruisers are ready, we'll be in the best possible position to dictate the outcome of the confrontation without anyone getting killed. If they can't fight us, they'll have no option but to -surrender—under protest, if they will, but still surrender. At which point we can thoroughly investigate the ships and how they came to be there."
"And if it turns out they never were any threat to the Star Kingdom, and that you—and the officers following your orders—have committed an unauthorized act of war with the very real prospect of bringing the Solarian League in against us, Sir?" Hope challenged.
"I don't believe it will. If it does, however, Her Majesty will be able to say with perfect honesty that she never authorized our actions. That we grossly exceeded our authority, and that she disavows everything we've done. In which case, the fact that you'll be following my own formal, written orders to you will absolve you of any blame."
"Sir, with all due respect, your orders cannot absolve any of us of responsibility for knowingly assisting you in committing an illegal act of war, That, at any rate, will undoubtedly be the verdict of the court-martial which convicts any officer who obeys your order of having committed piracy and murder."
The tension in the briefing room could have been carved with a knife. The other officers sat silent, watching the confrontation between Terekhov and Hope, and he leaned forward in his chair, holding her eyes.
"It's entirely possible that you're correct, Commander," he said in a cold, precise voice. "There comes a time in every officer's life, however, when he must confront not simply the possibility of defeat, not even of his own death, but his responsibility to the uniform he wears. To the Crown, and to the oath he swore when he put that uniform on. It's our duty to protect the Star Kingdom of Manticore and its allies and friends from all enemies. That, Commander Hope, is the bottom line of the oath you swore. The oath Edward Saganami swore. We're at the end of a very long, very tenuous chain of communication. It's our responsibility to exercise our initiative and judgment in the face of this threat. And it's also our duty to provide the Queen with the means of disavowing our actions—and us, if necessary—in order to avoid open warfare with the Solarian League."
"Sir, the fact that you feel it's our responsibility to commit professional suicide in order to deal with a threat which may not even exist doesn't necessarily make it true," Hope said flatly. "And I—and my ship—will not participate in this patently illegal action."
The tension ratcheted even higher, and Terekhov regarded her calmly.
"I don't recall offering you the option of refusing my orders, Commander," he said, almost conversationally.
"Captain Terekhov," she replied harshly, "I don't think you have a choice. You command a single ship. Admittedly, the most powerful single ship present, but only a single unit. And I question, Sir, whether or not your personnel will fire into another Manticoran vessel simply because it declines to join you in an illegal act."
"I wouldn't question that if I were you, Commander." Ansten FitzGerald's voice was colder than ice, and Hope's eyes darted to his face. "This ship and her people will engage whoever the Captain tells us to," the executive officer continued in that same, frozen voice. "Especially a mutinous vessel whose gutless, ass-covering excuse for a captain is refusing the lawful orders of her superior."
"Ansten, that's enough," Terekhov said quietly.
"With all due respect, Captain Terekhov," Ito Anders said, "it isn't. Commander Hope's chosen to suggest she and her vessel would resist your orders with deadly force. She's also observed that you command only a single ship. That is an incorrect statement." He looked directly at Hope, his dark eyes frozen. "If you were so foolish as to attempt to carry through on that threat, Commander, and if—as I very much doubt—your people were willing to obey your orders, you would discover that Hexapuma wouldn't be the only ship you would face."
"You can't seriously be considering cooperating with this!" Hope protested.
"Yes I can," Anders said calmly. He even smiled ever so slightly. "My ship is older even than yours, Commander. And, to be honest, she's always had something of a reputation to live down. She hasn't been fortunate in her commanding officers. I'm not going to add to that reputation. In fact, I'm going to clean it up properly at last. And if I have to begin by blowing your worthless ass out of space, I will."
Hope stared at him, then looked around the other faces around the table, and her mouth tightened as she realized she was alone.
"Skipper," another voice said then, and her head whipped around as Lieutenant Commander Diamond spoke for the first time.
"Skipper," her XO said sadly, "they're right. You're wrong. And our people won't follow you on this one."
"They don't have any choice!" she snapped.
"Commander, you can't have it both ways," Terekhov said. "If they're required to obey you because you're their superior officer, then you're required to obey me, because I'm your superior officer. But if you have the right to pick and choose which orders you'll follow, then they have the same right to refuse to follow your orders."
"But—"
"This is neither a debating society nor a democratic organization, Commander Hope, and this particular discussion is over. Since you seem to feel unable to carry out my orders, you are hereby relieved from command of Vigilant. Lieutenant Commander Diamond will replace you in command, effective immediately."
"You can't do that!" she shouted.
"I just did," he said icily. "And I will tolerate no further disrespect. You have two choices, Commander, neither of which any longer includes command of Vigilant. You may, if you so choose, disassociate yourself from the Squadron's—" he allowed himself at last to use the term others had already been using "—future actions and return to Spindle aboard the dispatch boat I intend to send there before proceeding to Monica. Failing that, you will remain aboard Hexapuma under quarters arrest until such time as we return to Spindle to account for our actions to our superiors."
He looked into her eyes, and something inside her flinched away from his blue battle steel gaze.
"Which is it going to be, Commander?"
Chapter Fifty-Five
The Crown dispatch boat from Lynx came out of the central terminus of the Manticore Wormhole Junction in a blue lightning flash of transit energy. It seemed small and insignificant, lost amid the stupendous, lumbering freighters and passenger ships, but its imperiously strident transponder had priority over them all. Astro Control juggled arrival and departure queues, clearing a path for it, and it streaked towards Home Fleet's flagship under almost eight hundred gravities of acceleration.
It looked even tinier as it decelerated just as furiously to a zero/zero intercept with the massive SD(P), but appearances were deceiving. Tiny as it was, that dispatch boat carried the message that would set millions upon millions of tons of warships into motion.
"What sort of r
aw meat do you people feed your cruiser captains, Hamish?" Queen Elizabeth III of Manticore inquired acidly.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," First Lord of Admiralty Hamish Alexander, Admiral of the Green (retired) and thirteenth Earl of White Haven, said with unusual formality to the woman he'd known since she was an infant, "that's not really fair."
"On the contrary, Ham," his brother, William Alexander, Lord Alexander, the recently created Baron of Grantville and Prime Minister of the Star Kingdom of Manticore, said tartly, "I think Elizabeth has an excellent point. We already have one war, and it's not going all that well. Do we really need to provoke another one with the Solarian League?"
"Your Majesty, Mr. Prime Minister, I agree the timing could have been better," Sir Thomas Caparelli, First Space Lord and the uniformed commander-in-chief of the Royal Manticoran Navy, rumbled in a deceptively mild tone. "On the other hand, having read Admiral Khumalo's dispatches and gone over Terekhov's report with Pat Givens, I don't think Terekhov had a great deal of choice."
"Possibly—probably—not, but I have to admit I wish he'd at least consulted with Baroness Medusa before he went dashing off to violate Monican territorial space. Someone with his Foreign Office experience has to be aware of the laser heads he's juggling here!" Sir Anthony Langtry, Manticore's Foreign Secretary, had been a highly decorated Marine once upon a time, and he looked like a man caught between his political and military instincts.
"That's certainly true," Baron Grantville agreed grimly. "The political situation in the Talbott Cluster's complex enough without throwing a spanner like this into the works!"
"Fair's fair, Willie," Elizabeth said a trifle unwillingly. She reached up to caress the ears of the treecat stretched across the back of her chair, and her expression eased . . . a little. "The political situation's improved enormously in the last couple of months, and from Dame Estelle's messages, it seems pretty evident Terekhov and Van Dort are responsible for that, as well."