The Honour of the Knights, Stephen J. Sweeney [reading women .txt] 📗

be dead! That's incredible!”

It's more than that, Parks thought. It may well represent our only hope.

With the departure of the enemy forces and the silence of weaponry, the scene beyond the bridge had become still once more. But amongst the multicoloured splendour of their surroundings lay the remnants of a battle that had not been easily won. With the operation over, Parks found himself able to slow down and take in everything about him. He turned around.

The bridge had been laid to waste; and whilst his crew were coping with the damage that had been dealt it, Griffin would without doubt be out of service for several weeks, if not months. It was not time they could spare.

Idiot, he thought to himself, looking over how much the carrier had suffered at the hands of an enemy he had been foolish enough to believe he was ready to tackle. We're not ready yet! You are not ready!

Leviathan's condition was not much better, the damage to the exterior quite clear from where Parks stood. The emblems of the mythical creature that graced the hull were torn and burnt from where missiles, plasma bolts, and lasers had scorched the armour. Small glistening crystalline shapes could be seen emanating from damaged areas, where leaking gases and chemicals froze in the cold. Loose metals and alloys threatened to break off at the merest brush with solar winds. Grendel's Mother told a similar story, the carrier in no better condition for her part in the battle.

And then there was the loss of Grendel. The destruction of one of their carriers would not please the United Naval Forces, who had agreed to support the Confederation in their endeavour on the condition that the safety of their forces would be made a top priority. Parks had a lot to answer for, though he realised it could have been a lot worse.

“Good job, everyone,” Parks said to the bridge crew, although the congratulatory offering felt decidedly hollow. “Now that we have time to breathe, please prioritise yourselves with seeing to the wounded and dealing with repairs.”

He would call a meeting of his senior staff after he'd had time to see to other matters.

“Mr Liu, please put me in touch with Leviathan, Grendel's Mother, and...” he started, before a sudden anger gripped him. “No, wait, disregard that. Put me in touch with Ifrit, alone.”

As he waited for the link to establish, he tried to cool his anger by counting slowly to ten. He made it to three.

XV

— The Journey Home —

“Thank you so much for your assistance, Commodore,” Parks began. “We certainly would not have been able to cope without your timely intervention.” Parks made no attempt to conceal the sarcasm in his voice, the man sure that, even if Ifrit's captain had somehow failed to detect it, his expression would do an adequate job of conveying his dissatisfaction.

Hawke's expression in the holographic screen remained quite neutral as he composed himself before replying. “As we had both agreed prior to the commencement of the operation, Commodore, I took up the position of rearguard and moved in to fulfil my role as needed. I stand by my belief that had I acted sooner than was necessary, we would, without a shadow of a doubt, have been surrounded by enemy forces and certainly would not be having this conversation now.”

“That is beside the point, Commodore!” Parks glared. “I gave you a very specific request that our forces were being overrun and we needed your support. You chose to ignore that request.”

“I did no such thing. Your communication was cut short and I took it upon myself to hold position until I could make a better assessment of the situation,” Hawke replied with the same air of infallibility.

Your stubbornness and downright arrogance is staggering, Parks thought. What the hell happened to you? It was almost as if the man didn't want to help. Had Hawke panicked in the face of the Enemy? Had a repressed memory of his experience aboard Dragon during the time of its theft reared its ugly head? Whatever it was, it was still unacceptable to stand idly by as hostile forces tore the allies apart, and for that Parks was infuriated. With all that had happened that day he felt the rage building within him and decided to end the discussion rather than make his feelings known to the entire bridge crew.

“We will continue this later, during debriefing,” Parks said, fully intent on bringing the man's almost total lack of participation in the operation to the attention of Fleet Admiral Turner and other members of naval high command.

He signalled to the bridge crew to open communications to Grendel's Mother and Leviathan. The holographic images of Mandeep and Meyers appeared alongside the already present image of Hawke, the quality of the images as poor as ever.

“Commodore, Captain,” Parks greeted them. “Are you in any need of assistance?”

“We will be fine for the return journey, thank you, Commodore,” Mandeep replied, the smile that Parks had grown so accustomed to and fond of no longer gracing her face. “Much of the damage we received was superficial, a miracle given what we just faced.” Mandeep looked sad and disappointed, the tremendous losses they had suffered and the deaths of her colleagues undoubtedly an enormous weight on her mind.

“Likewise with Leviathan,” Meyers said. “We did take some considerable damage, but it's nothing that we cannot cope with prior to our return to Spirit.”

Parks nodded in understanding. “Very well. Whilst going about the repairs we should perform a brief sweep of the area and pick up any bodies we can find. Obviously there is nothing we can do for those poor individuals, but we can at least return their bodies home for a decent burial.”

His eyes flickered past the holographic images to the debris that floated about beyond the carrier. Many of the starfighter pilots that had lost their lives would have been all but vaporised in the explosions of their craft. This he was glad for. After everything that had happened, too many questions would be asked if they pulled in the body of one of the Enemy. Such an occurrence would only act as a catalyst and foundation for increasing rumour and speculation. A count and name-check of those returning on the carriers would be performed at Spirit, with those unaccounted for being marked as killed in action.

With that in mind, he looked to Meyers. “Captain, can Leviathan carry some of our fighters? Our flight deck is too badly damaged to land any and we can only accommodate so many in our cargo holds. I don't expect Ifrit will have room to spare,” he added dryly.

Meyers nodded. “That shouldn't be an issue since, regrettably, we have many empty bays.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Parks said, before he turned once again to Mandeep. “Please convey my sincere condolences to the families of those who were aboard Grendel. A lot of brave men and women lost their lives on that ship today.” To lose an entire carrier was disastrous to any naval force. Matters were made worse by the fact that the crew were made up of military personnel volunteered by a number of Independent World naval forces. Parks could almost hear the cracks widening in the already strained relationships between some of the worlds.

“I will make sure your sympathies are known, Commodore,” Mandeep said, the sadness clear in her eyes even through the distortion. “Please contact us when you are ready to leave. We will wait with you here, in case we can provide any further assistance.”

“Thank you again, Sima,” Parks said.

“Excuse me, Commodore, but how do you suppose the enemy forces were able to override the shutdown code that was sent to Dragon?” Meyers asked. It was a question that had played on Parks' mind - and he suspected very many others - throughout the course of the battle. The sudden restoration of power to Dragon had tipped the scales well in the enemy's favour during the opening part of the operation.

“I don't believe they did, Captain,” Parks answered. “Our initial attempt at transmitting the code was not immediately successful and it took a lot longer for Dragon's systems to be deactivated than I was led to believe. I was informed that the shutdown procedure would take place upon receipt of the code. The fact that it did not do so should have been our first warning. It is my belief that the Enemy became aware our intentions and purposely shut down all systems themselves in compliance. Once we were lured into a false sense of security, they sprung their trap.”

“How could they have known about something like that?” Mandeep asked.

Parks had a hunch that she was asking a rhetorical question, implying that the Enemy had either been tipped off ahead of their encounter or that Dragon's previous crew were now working alongside its new owners.

“I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that, Commodore,” he said. “Until we can collate a battle report and analyse all the data, then my guess would be as good as yours. Once we have further information I will ensure that it is shared with the IWC.

“Now, if there is no other business that anyone wishes to discuss?”

Even with the interference caused by the damage to the holographic projection systems, Parks had no trouble making out the subtle confrontational look that Hawke was giving him. There were shakes of heads and answers of no.

“Then we will make preparations to leave. I will be in contact shortly.”

* * *

For the next hour the allied forces continued with repairs, most of Griffin's surviving starfighters docking with Leviathan. A sweep for bodies resulted in only a handful of recognisable pick-ups, a mixture of both Confederation and Independent uniforms in the group. The four remaining Red Devils were found and taken aboard Leviathan, the women identifiable by the colourful emblem of a cartoon devil clutching a pitchfork on the left breast of their flight suits.

Dodds watched the shuttles do their work. He was happy to do nothing now but take a well-earned breather. He listened to Estelle conversing with Griffin.

“Do you wish for us to return to Griffin's cargo bay or should we dock with Leviathan?” she asked.

“Negative, Lieutenant. I want you and your team to return to Griffin,” Parks answered her. “Land via the rear cargo bay and then await further instructions.”

“Acknowledged.”

Estelle was the first to return to the rear cargo bay, the awaiting crew taxiing the sleek, black starfighter back to its original position, so that the others could land uninhibited. Dodds saw her waiting at the rear of the bay, stood next to Enrique, as he landed. Even before he stepped out of the fighter, he could make out the grin on the man's face.

“Good shooting out there, mate,” Dodds said to Enrique, as he walked over to join them. “Think I might have gotten one or two more than you, though!”

“I think you'll find I was ahead of you the whole the time,” Enrique said, with a chuckle. He shook Dodds' hand and they gave each other a hearty slap on the back.

“That frigate still only counts as one,” Dodds grinned.

“I am glad to be out there, though,” Enrique said, nodding towards the ATAFs.

“Definitely. After all of that I could do with a nap,” Dodds admitted. They looked to Chaz, who was making his way over to them. He appeared quite upbeat for a change, a smile on his face. With Kelly the last to land and now out of her ATAF, the Knights gathered around Estelle.

“Good work out there, everyone,” she beamed, looking happier than she had done in weeks.

“I don't think those Imperial pilots knew what hit them,” Dodds said.

“I'm not sure anyone out there did either, to tell the truth,” Enrique said. “Those fighters are still supposed to be a military secret.”

“Test run,” Chaz said, glancing back around at the fighters, which still looked as fresh and new as the day they had completed construction. There didn't appear to be one dent or scratch on any of them. Not even on the ATAF that Kelly had been piloting, having been hit head-on by the suicidal Sphinx fighter pilot.

“We should meet with Commodore Parks for debriefing and then get you some medical attention, Kelly,” Estelle said.

Together, the Knights started out the cargo bay. But as they approached, a number of security personnel, standing by the hold's exit, gathered themselves across the already-thin gap of the tall doors, blocking the five pilots from exiting. At first, Dodds thought their presence was