we may have identified a key focus of your embitterment disorder.”
“Oh, really?” Gray’s tone was biting and sarcastic. “Do you think. Maybe? Damn it, of course I’m bitter about what happened!”
“And I don’t blame you. What happened had a serious, a terrible impact on your life. But you don’t have to let what happened at the Columbia Arcology control you, control your thoughts and actions, for the rest of your life.
“As with everything else in life, Lieutenant Gray, you have a choice—to be done to, or to do. And we’re here to determine which it’s going to be.”
CIC, TC/USNA CVS America
Mars Synchorbit, Sol System
0916 hours, TFT
Koenig felt the faint shudder as America finally nestled into the docking facility gantry, the boarding tubes nestling against the access hatchways in the zero-G sections of her spine. Magnetic clamps locked and nanoseals formed impenetrable, airtight connections. Buchanan had already passed orders that the first off the ship would be the Mufrid passengers. The transports that would take them to Earth were already moving toward America’s berth.
They were home.
He could hear the steady stream of orders from the bridge as some of the ship’s systems were shut down. The hab modules would continue their rotation for a time, providing artificial gravity, at least until the Mufrids were off. And wasn’t that going to be fun … herding more than a thousand people down to the zero-G regions of the ship and floating them out through the boarding tubes? America’s Marine contingent and the Master-at-Arms Division were going to be busy for the next several hours, keeping the civilians moving, keeping them from panicking and thrashing about and possibly hurting themselves. Ship’s crew would be responsible for cleaning up after those who got sick in the passageways, though at least they would have robotic help in that unpleasant task. The ship’s quartermaster’s department was already deploying cleanerbots to the ship’s zero-gravity hab areas.
With America back in spacedock, Admiral Koenig now was technically off duty. Other ships in the carrier battlegroup were still arriving—though a few had been redirected to Earth Synchorbital—but they were now under the individual commands of their respective commanding officers, no longer maneuvering or fighting as a fleet. Now, he thought, might be a good time to go back to his quarters and try to catch some sleep. He’d been awake through much of the inbound passage from Sol’s Kuiper Belt, and dead tired. He already knew he would have to appear in person before a review board of the Senate Military Directorate early tomorrow, ship’s time … and likely face a Board of Inquiry shortly after that.
It might be his last appearance before his peers as a flag-rank officer, and he wanted to be sharp for that meeting.
“I have an incoming communication from Dr. Brandt,” his personal AI informed him. “It is flagged ‘urgent.’”
“Put it through.”
“Admiral Koenig? Brandt, down in med-research!”
“Yes, Doctor. What can I—”
“We’ve got a problem here! The Turusch are killing each other!”
“Damn it! Separate them!”
“It’s … too late for that. You might want to link down here and see for yourself.”
“Stand by. I’m coming down.”
He connected directly with the NTE robots hanging from the ship’s overhead in the compartment holding the two Turusch. The two aliens appeared locked in a deadly embrace, heads split wide open, the harpoons and feeding tubes within imbedded in each other’s bodies. Several medtecs in red e-suits were there, trying to separate the two, but the aliens continued to thrash about weakly, pushing the humans away with flailing black tentacles. A pair of white Noters suspended from the overhead were trying to help, but were knocked away with ease.
Shit! “Get them apart!” he barked.
“We’re trying, Admiral!” Brandt said. “Those rigid spears are like injection needles. They squirt digestive juice—sulfuric acid—into whatever they’re eating. Then they suck up the soup through those soft tubes.”
“They’re eating each other?”
“That’s about the size of it, Admiral.”
Moments later, the humans and robots together managed to get a firm grip on both of the alien combatants and drag them apart. Acid dripped from the harpoons as they slipped free, steaming on the deck.
But by then both of the aliens were dead.
Chapter Sixteen
17 October 2404
Senate Military Directorate Chambers
Phobos Space Elevator, Sol System
1010 hours, TFT
The preliminary Board of Inquiry was relatively relaxed and laid-back, a session designed simply to explore Koenig’s actions at Eta Boötis, and to determine whether any formal charges even needed to be made. The meeting was held virtually, since two of the board members—Admiral Jason Barry and Vice Admiral Michael Noranaga—were linking in from elsewhere. Barry currently was at Noctis Labyrinthus, on the Martian surface. Noranaga was a selkie who at the moment was swimming somewhere within one of Earth’s oceans; the current twenty-minute time delay between Earth and Mars meant that he would be represented on the Board of Inquiry by his avatar, uploaded from Quito Synchorbital to Phobia by electronic transfer several days before.
Koenig had already checked the flag officer listings for circum-Mars space, and found that no fewer than thirty-seven admirals were present within easy realtime link distances; why Noranaga was on the board, rather than someone closer at hand, was a mystery. Koenig’s best guess was that the genetically enhanced admiral—who held dual flag rank in both the Human Confederation Star Navy and in the surface navy of the North American Confederal Union—had pulled some strings in Columbus, DC. He held considerable authority in C3—the Confederation Central Command—and might have a political reason for taking part in Koenig’s hearing.
The third member of the board was an old friend of Koenig’s, Rear Admiral Karyn Mendelson, with whom he’d served back when she’d commanded the Lexington. She’d been waiting for him in the meeting chamber, offering him a recliner with the link pad already open and waiting.
“You don’t look so hot, Alex,” she told him as he walked in. “Are you that worried about this morning?”
“Not about the board, no,” he told her. “We have another problem. I’ll fill you all in once we get started.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Shall we go in?”
He nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
He sat in the recliner, placing the network of gold and silver threads visible on the palm of his hand against the link pad.
