February 1st, 2262. 20:15 Villam Orbital Station – Naval Staging Room
John’s reliquary, which had been updated extensively by him, was still on the Des Moines. And it would be there for at last two more days. Being stuck in a suit of power armor for two days wasn’t exactly something he could ever imagine ever really wanting to experience.
The station personnel recommended he use one of their spare units to take off and store his armor. This was a genuinely nice suggestion; however, they weren’t designed for his bespoke variant of power armor. The spare unit didn’t want to interface with his armor at all initially. Most of the armor plates have already been detached over the last two hours.
John had transferred his reliquary’s settings to this one. But that only helped a little bit, the machine’s little arms and grabbers still wanted to pinch and pull with far too much force. Each armor plate and its underlying subsystem took multiple attempts to detach and even more attempts to store them away.
“Fucking hell that hurts,” John yelled when it awkwardly tried to remove his thigh plate, “Ouch, God dammit. Stop it!”
John’s cries went unheeded.
“Lieutenant Lief,” the voice said from the blacked-out terminal screen behind him, “There’s a message for…”
“Fucking machine, that hurts,” John yelled, “Stop it!”
“Is everything alright sir?”
“OUCH!” John screeched, “No everything is not all right. I am about ready to commit a war crime against this bloody machine that is trying to torture me. Or at the very least is actively working towards maiming me.”
“Well anyways, there’s a message for you.”
“Yeah, yeah. FUCK! That’s going to leave a mark,” John said as the last thigh plate was removed, “Yeah transfer it over.”
There was a click and a distinctive sound of the screen being turned on. John couldn’t turn to see who it was and was frankly worried about the machine castrating him with the next piece of armor. John was very nearly to the point of shutting the machine off and finding some random tools to just do the rest himself.
Then all John could hear was laughter. He was about to turn to look at the screen when the machine reached out and tried to detach the suit’s codpiece.
“NO NO NO NO, careful!” John yelled at the inanimate object, "CAREFUL!"
To John’s great surprise it removed it without any issue. It also removed the tail plate at the same time. Almost immediately thereafter it unscrewed one underlayment which caused the rest to just drop off him in a pile.
John stepped back and looked down, “That’s one way to do it.”
He turned to see a screen of his brother-in-law, Marcus. Marcus was howling in laughter at the fight in front of him. Eventually, he settled down.
“Hey, bud. Guess what? I’m not dead.”
“Jury’s still out on that given what that machine is trying to do,” Marky said with a laugh, “Good to see you still alive and kicking. Have you talked to sis?”
“Yup. She looked like hell. Happy crying, though I think she’s gonna hurt me when I get back.”
Marcus howled in laughter, “Yeah, yeah, she will be happy mad. You know how scary she can be when in that state.”
“So how are things going?” John paused.
Marcus shrugged, “Same shit, different day. Most of the days I have to babysit Marines, which is challenging as you are well aware. Terry put in his papers and is retired or retiring early.”
“I think I saw a brief message about that. I think Alice said he was going to crash at our place before rotating back to Earth. I think she may also have guilted him into house sitting down the road.”
“Yeah, I bet you are in the center of a maelstrom. When are you getting back to St. Mary’s?”
John sat down on one of the benches and leaned forward, “Uhm, our ride home is on the CNS Majestic or Magnificent, I think. Admiral Panapa’s boat. They should be here in three or four days. Then it’s another eight to twelve days of travel back.”
“That’s too damn long,” Marcus laughed, “Alice will want you there now.”
“Oh, I know. That’s why I’m worried about seeing her,” John smiled.
Marcus leaned in closer to his camera and whispered, “So, how bad was it?”
“Lost all the other ships in the reconnaissance wing and two-thirds of my crew on the Des Moines. We got lucky that we shut power to the core when we did. Otherwise, we’d been vaporized.”
“At least that’s all over now.”
John laughed as he shook his head, “It’s only just started I’m afraid. It’s going to get so much worse from here on out. Probably worse than what we just went through.”
Marcus paused then looked shocked, “Yeah, it’s going to be a political circus, isn’t it?”
John nodded his head and shrugged. He looked up at the door when a pair of marines entered. One of them gestured that he had a couple of minutes to wrap things up. He sighed and acknowledged them.
“No time better than the present to learn how to play that game. It appears I have places to be brother.”
“Say hi to sis for me next time we chat. I got the first round of drinks next time we see each other,” Marcus smiled then punched the button to end the call.
John looked around the room and found a bin. He pulled it over to where he was a dumped everything else that the station’s reliquary didn’t store properly. It was a jumbled mess, but everything that wasn’t in the reliquary was now in one place. Normally this level of half-assing things would piss John off, but it was good enough and would do for now.
21:30 St. Mary’s Station, Admiral Tim Dufresne’s Office
Tim was sitting back in his chair skimming the terminal’s contents in the front of him. He shook his head as he perused through the events that had occurred after the Des Moines began orbiting the station above Villam. To say that it was a clusterfuck was a vast understatement.
“Tim,” Admiral Dickinson was bewildered, “This all happened? What the hell was Naval Intelligence thinking? They didn’t seriously have a kill team go after him.”
“We have the official orders and the orders the agents there were operating in. Someone on-site may have switched the orders on them, hence the more militant response,” Tim said, “I’m not sure I buy this but we don’t have anything else to go after. We need to speak to the Lieutenant about this to get his take on it. In any case, the reason for the response was because of the theta radiation. It was a Confederate design. It was supposed to have been buried and sealed by Intelligence. Clearly, it got out and they wanted to keep that information quiet.”
“What is Director LeCroix saying?”
“Most of the blame has been laid on the dead agent. The director is saying it was never a kill op. It was just to acquire the ship sensor readings and logs first. They would then choose to clean the data before it was sent to us at their whim. The Director was very clear that killing John was never in the mission briefing,” Tim shook his head, “We all think it’s a load of bullshit, sir.”
“At least we know beyond any doubt that he is truly separated from them,” Charles said as he leaned onto his desk, “Did they really think one of their, if not the, best agents would be killed so easily?”
“I agree it was incredibly short-sighted. Lief has a vicious streak in him that is hard to gauge on the best of days.”
Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead, “When is the initial report going to be published? All I’m seeing is John’s draft.”
“He’s been busy and distracted with several things. When Pan last talked to him, he indicated that he’d have his initial report and formal request for an inquest to be submitted in thirty-six hours.”
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“How bad is it really?”
Tim shook his head, “Lieutenant Guetta was taken onboard the station in chains. There was an attempt to override security protocols and abandon ship. John was careful to point out that this was no mutiny. He said he’d play no role in judging him, as it wasn’t his place to do so.”
“How many were involved in total?”
“Thirteen, sir. I need to speak with John in more detail. Four of them were allowed to rejoin the crew without any restrictions.”
“Was Guetta one of Kory’s people?”
Tim shrugged, “We’re still looking into that. John investigated and listened to Kory’s personal logs too. The attack plan Kory cooked up was overly optimistic and entirely unrealistic. It’s really bad, sir.”
“Damn, that’s dicey territory.”
Tim laughed, “I thought so too until I saw his legal justification. He spent a fair bit of time doing his due diligence. I ran it by our legal attachés on the station. They agreed with his conclusion. I also had Sixth Fleet review things and they agreed, though they wouldn’t have recommended the limitations he placed upon himself. Awaiting to hear back from JAG their opinion on the matter.”
The conversation was interrupted by another incoming message. Charles raised a finger to Tim and looked at who it was. He shook his head when he saw that it was Admiral Uriel Petrov. The overall commander of the Third Fleet and the commanding officer of the senior Shephard.
“Tim, stay on the line. I’m bringing Uriel in,” Charles said as he pressed some buttons on his terminal, “Uriel. Good to see you, though I suspect this isn’t a courtesy call to catch up.”
“Hi, Charles. Ahh, I see Tim is on the line. This impacts you as well.”
“Hello, Admiral. You may as well lead with the bad news sir.”
Uriel laughed, “I wish things were more lighthearted in these times. But, before I get into the meat of this message, I want you to know that Third Fleet and myself don’t agree with, nor will we be requesting, all of the things that I’m sure you’ve heard scuttlebutt about.”
Charles nodded, “Then to confirm, Shephard is the one voicing everything?”
“It’s not just him, all of his closest proteges and peers are advocating for many things,” Uriel was shaking his head, “He is most incensed at the ‘unlawful and reprehensible’ opening of his son’s private logs by the acting captain.”
“First and Seventh fleet’s legal counsel deemed the action just as it was limited to an immediate review of the attack. We’re awaiting a preliminary word from JAG about their view of this matter.”
Uriel nodded, “I tend to agree. Our legal advisors were split but generally agreed with the other’s decision. It’s hard to overlook the limitations he placed on himself in reviewing the logs as well. However, I must insist that a hearing be called to either condemn that action or explain in detail how and why it was allowed.”
“You’re insisting now?” Richard said somewhat surprised.
“We all know this is going to keep growing and growing. If we make one mistake, then it will explode in our faces. It’s best to get everything, or most everything, out in the open and ahead of the mob.”
Tim nodded, “I agree, but I would insist that this hearing is delayed at least until the crew has been transferred to the CNS Magnificent and is en route back to Manchester.
“That’s what three of four days from now?” Uriel asked.
“Closer to five from actually departing. She’s been hitting some chop in slip space and is taking a longer than the desired route to Villam,” Charles said, “We will have it as soon as it is feasible to once underway.”
“That will work. Shephard is also insistent on attending that hearing.”
“Absolutely not,” Charles was tapping his fingers on his desk, “He’s a family member of a decedent, it’s entirely inappropriate for him to participate in the hearing.”
Uriel looked down at his desk at sighed, “I’m aware. We will have legal counsel co-chairing.”
Tim was shaking his head, “Admiral, is it wise for Admiral Shepard to antagonize or declare war against Lieutenant Lief? I think we all know how that’s going to end. I doubt John wants to attack the man, but…”
“If JAG and the tribunal approve it, will you stand in the way?” Uriel said in a defeated tone.
Richard looked at Uriel directly and spoke up, “We won’t. You need to have a very pointed conversation with Admiral Shephard. If he veers off track, there will be consequences. He needs to not make this personal or attack John. John is more than capable of not only humiliating him but destroying everything that he has. If…”
Uriel nodded and interrupted, “I know I will…”
“I’m not done, Uriel. You need to hear this. John is not a man to casually attack. Like it or not he’s turned into a publicly known figure several times over now. If Shephard thinks, because of his notoriety, that he can engage in a battle in a public setting, then John is going to destroy the man. I do not want to see that outcome, and if Shephard escalates things, I won’t be giving John an order to stand down. He will be free to assassinate the character and capabilities of Admiral Shephard with impunity.”
“I will have a conversation and make it abundantly clear with him what the scope of the hearing is. Would you have whoever is setting up the hearing get in touch with my legal team?”
Tim spoke up, “I’ll be working out the particulars on that tomorrow morning. I’ll forward the details to you and anyone else you want me to send it to.”
“Great, I’ll send you a list of names to include in a few minutes,” Uriel said, “Charles, how bad is it? I’m on the outside looking in.”
Charles just shook his head, “It’s too damn early for any final announcements. I can’t see this ending in any other way than a total shitstorm.”
“Was it mostly the Shephard’s fault?”
“Again, it’s too early to make any real judgments,” Tim paused for a moment and shook his head, “Look, it doesn’t appear to paint Kory in good paint. The fireworks will begin when John files his paperwork surrounding the incidents. Which we expect will occur in the days before he and the rest of the crew are back at St. Mary’s station.”
February 2nd, 2262. 06:15 Villam Orbital Station – Temporary Barracks, Officers Hall
John groaned as he woke up well before his alarm. While the room was dark, it wasn’t without light. He was staring at the ceiling and was working himself into a bad mood. A couple of sighs later he rolled out of bed and hopped in the small shower.
Working out would have been a good way to kill some time. Unfortunately, he still had far too much work remaining to finish his after-action report on the battle. Given the nature of it, he needed to finish it as soon as he could.
After getting cleaned up John sat down at his desk and set a timer on his terminal. Some complaints were made about how the chair was going to hurt his ass, but eventually, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and got to work.
John had finished a general outline and several random sections that he wanted to call out. He was now working on the report in a linear process in the order they occurred. The planning of the attack, if you want to call it that, was being reviewed. John’s observations surrounding it were effectively savaging the dead’s capability of planning and critical thought.
The single most damning thing he had put to paper was being written now. Kory had somehow created a cult of persona within the wing. Every captain in the wing was subservient or overly deferential to him and his suggestions. Being accused of that is bad enough, but actively encouraging it or knowingly creating it is grounds for a bad conduct discharge.
In some ways, it was good that Kory had passed away during the attack. John paused and thought about that idea. He was genuinely unsure whether or not he had the fortitude and strength of character to have handled the presumed attacks leveled on him during a regular inquest. In all likelihood, Kory would win some fights but lose the war. But a bad conduct discharge? No that wouldn’t happen, not with who his family was, and the familial collections his mother’s side of the family brought to bear.
John refocused yet again and got back to working on the report. Where had Kory’s battle analysis come from? He stopped typing and leaned back in his chair. The answer to this question died with Kory as he didn’t include the answer anywhere in his logs or personal writings. This was quite troubling, the justifications for the modifications he made to the enemy’s capabilities were puzzling, to say the least.
“Eve, can you compare this strategy to any of the published writings of Admiral Shephard. Display similarities,” John said as he watched Kory’s battle plan loop over and over.
Twenty seconds later the VI beeped and then spoke, “No known cruiser formations match the battle plan.”
“Ignore ship classes and rescan and identify,” John was desperately hoping for another negative answer.
Not five seconds later Eve came back, “Three matches. Theoretical battleship engagements with minimal supporting craft published 2227. Focusing fire on enemy capital ships published 2234. The final published tactic, in 2241, was Cruiser Support Wing attachments.
“Eve, do you have enough information from these three battle tactics to splice them together using Kory’s plan?”
“Affirmative. Do you wish to reduce the ships required to perform this attack based on the available ships in the wing or what the writings suggest having?”
“Use the prescribed ships in the writings.”
John chuckled at his obtuse order. Eve began listing out how many ships would be necessary, according to the writings, to be included in this imaginary attack fleet. One hundred-thirty-four ships appeared in the listing.
“Eve, rerun that ship requirement but use the initial ships we scanned along with the first wave of reinforcements as the enemy combatants. How many ships would we have needed to combat them using Admiral Shephard’s tactics.”
“Recalculating.”
The new fleet was much more reasonable. Forty-two ships. That was still far more than what Kory had available to him. And more notably the lack of a friendly battleship and battlecruiser. John sighed when he saw the results. He felt angry when Eve had finished stitching the battle plan together using their attack plan. Not only did they make short work of the hostile fleet, but they were also able to hold their own against the reinforcements. But the result was all too predictable.
“Kory, you are a fucking idiot,” John said as he closed his eyes and rubbed them, “Eve, can you please summarize what we were lacking in our fleet and add this to an addendum to my after-action report?”
“Would you care to see the summarized list?”
“Sure, bring it up on the right monitor,” John said as he was rubbing his forehead, “Oh, also include the logic you used to deduce what was needed and why.”
John stood up and paced back and forth in his room. Their fleet had less than a quarter of the recommended cruisers and obviously lacked the bigger ships. More specifically though was the class of cruisers. Heavy and attack cruisers were the only allowable classes in the fleet. Not a reconnaissance or stealth cruiser.
But John’s thoughts kept on coming back to why? Sure, he had plenty of assumptions that could answer that. Thus far there were no clear answers though. The most likely reason was to either reinforce his father’s position to prove his tactics are still viable, or to make him stand out. The former was much more likely as Kory didn’t seem to be that desperate to elevate his position.
“Eve, run another scan on his logs. Focus only on phrases that he would stand out, make him look better, improving his and the other ship’s captain’s image. Things like that. Log the scan and add it to the appendix.”
“Checking now, please wait a moment.”
John continued his pacing. He gave himself better than even odds at being right. But the evidence was needed. Sadly, that evidence wasn’t going to be forthcoming.
“No phraseology matches in his logs.”
“Kory, you massive prick,” John threw his arms out in frustration.
He looked at the terminal and his alarm was just about ready to go off. Somehow nearly two hours had passed. He walked over to the terminal and shut off the alarm and saved his work. It was time to take a break and eat. The rest of the day was going to be stuck in this room working and focusing on this accursed report.