Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (38 page)

A plan formed in his
fertile and agile mind, but it needed to be passed before and
accepted by his fleet officers. This was to be done shortly, but
another important matter needed to be attended to first, one that
was born from the communication logs of the late Captain
Khalid.

* * * * *

As John Winslow approached
Paladin’s former quarters, his pace had gradually slowed to somber
steps. The man had dreaded this moment more than he had dreaded
anything else in his life. The treachery he believed he had played
a part in had not only lost him his right to command, but his
military career—and possibly his life as well. However for the good
of the fleet, he was not about to deny it. Justice was to be served
even if it was the last thing he would do.

His feet continued onward
and reluctantly broke the silent of the corridor. Knowing of
Wakinyan’s “savage” reputation, and hatred of betrayal, the
retribution, John thought, was likely to culminate in a swift and
rightfully earned execution. John blinked momentarily to that
mental image, but his honor drove him forward.

As Winslow finally came
before the hatch to Paladin’s quarters, he stopped and hesitated.
He stood frozen in self-defeat, but there was no turning
back.

He pressed the button to
announce his arrival. Then with a firm voice, Winslow implored
entry. “Captain John Winslow requests mast with the Martian fleet
Commander.

“Enter,” bided the voice
over the intercom.

The hatchway then opened,
and Captain John Winslow stepped in.

After the hatch closed,
Winslow saluted and then stood rigidly at attention. Yet, he eyed
Wakinyan, who sat leaning on the desk with hands folded. Wakinyan’s
face was a mask of stone, etched in a sobriety and coldness that
made John very uneasy.

“I was just about to send
for you,” Richard confided.

“I thought I’d save you the
trouble, Commander,” John spoke honestly. “I’ve turned the ship
over to Lieutenant Evans and have placed myself under arrest.”
Winslow then outstretched his right hand to Wakinyan, holding a
data crystal. “I am resigning my commission, Sir. This letter
summarizes everything.”

Richard looked at John’s
opened hand and saw the crystal wafer it held. “I see,” Richard
commented. “Would you mind first detailing your part in all
this?”

John took a deep breath as
he slowly lowered his outstretched arm back to his side. “Prior to
leaving Apoapsis Three, Khalid had contacted me and wanted my
support in replacing Commander Paladin. He implied something was
about to happen, but didn’t say what or when.”

“And what was your
response?”

“I didn’t exactly
disagree, Sir,” Winslow admitted. “I was angry—over having been
shun for promotion—and not really having a ship of my own to
command. So I listened. He offered me the rank of deputy fleet
commander if I did what he asked,” John briefly paused, “I said—I
would think it over.” John cringed in pain over his confession as
he thought back. “When Damon sent for Commander Paladin, I
suspected that—this was the moment.”

“Go on,” Wakinyan
prodded.

It was then that Winslow’s
conscience sent a surge of overwhelming guilt that bared the
torture of his soul. Winslow bit his lip, finding it hard to
answer—but the guilt was unrelenting.

Tears suddenly erupted
from John’s eyes and his voice began to quiver. “I should have
stopped him—told him the truth! But I didn’t! I was afraid! So I
sent him to his death!” John began to break down as he brought up a
hand to cover his face of shame. “I killed him, Sir! I’m the one to
blame!”

The man cried steadily for
a minute before he could regain any control. Wakinyan just
watched—and pitied him.

As Winslow recomposed
himself, the room became quiet for some time. Wakinyan saw the
sincerity and anguish within the John’s heart, and the desire to
make amends for his perceived misdeeds.

“That’s not the truth, Captain Winslow,”
Wakinyan confronted. “You tried to stop Commander Paladin from
leaving the bridge—even pleaded with him to have the so-called
mutineers brought aboard instead. It sounds to me like you were
genuinely concerned for his life.”

Wakinyan
slowly stood up. “On top of that, you showed initiative and loyalty
by bringing the
Mariner
and the
First Destroyer
Squadron
around to face down the
Mir
. That alone not only
aided our rescue attempt—but also defused a very dangerous
situation. Probably one we never could have recovered from,”
Wakinyan paused for a moment.

Richard continued as he
leisurely slipped around the desk towards Winslow. “You tried to
save his life—and the fleet. I don’t think that’s the actions of a
traitor—but rather of a very good officer—who had a momentary lapse
of judgment.”

The two men stared at each
other for moment.

“John—everyone in this
life makes mistakes,” Wakinyan’s voice grew softer. “I make them,
you make them—Paladin made them. The trick is to do your best not
to repeat them,” Richard consoled. “And regarding Paladin’s death,
you didn’t kill him—Damon did!” Wakinyan snarl momentarily at
visualizing Paladin’s murderer. “I also think that even if you had
told the Commander everything, it would not have made one bit of
difference. We’ll never know what their plans really were; it could
have even involved somehow destroying this ship, which would have
been disastrous! No, I don’t think you a traitor at
all!”

“Sir, you’re very
generous, but it doesn’t change what I think or feel. But I want
you to know, if I could trade places with Commander Paladin—I
would!” Winslow admitted, displaying both his guilt and
grief.

Wakinyan momentarily placed
a hand upon Winslow’s shoulder. “I think that’s quite evident,
Captain.”

The room settled into
silence once again.

“John, I knew most of your
story before I stepped aboard this ship. I just wanted to hear your
side of it before I made a final decision,” Richard revealed his
prior insight.

“And that is, Sir?” Winslow
awaited his expected and deserved punishment.

A faint smile ran across
Wakinyan’s mouth, “Face me, Captain John Winslow.”

John first glanced
suspiciously at Richard, but then gradually rotated his body around
to face the man. He still, however, stood erect at
attention.

Richard’s smile grew into
a larger grin. “Captain Winslow, in lieu of your participation in
the events that have just transpired—I hereby promote you to the
rank of Deputy Fleet Commander, effective immediately!” Wakinyan
then leaned over and removed Winslow’s captain bars from his collar
and replaced each of them with the single star of rank.

Winslow was totally
flabbergasted. His eyes widened while his mouth dropped open
slightly to his astonishment.

“Perhaps, Paladin didn’t
recognize your strengths and abilities—but I do!” Wakinyan then
took the crystal from John’s hand and held it up before him.
“This—never happened!” Richard pronounced with the finality of an
order. He then threw the crystal containing the resignation letter
into a disposal bin that disintegrated the object with a
crackle.

“You’re
too damn good an officer to have wallowing in a brig when you
should be commanding the
Mariner
. And quite frankly, I need
everyone I can get for this battle. Congratulations, Deputy Fleet
Commander Winslow.”

Wakinyan held out his hand,
and John instinctively took it.

“Thank you, Sir,” Winslow
said reluctantly, but quickly shook Richard’s hand. Yet, he still
dwelled on his remorse, and the clasp of John’s hand became as a
vise. “I swear—I won’t let you—or the fleet down again—no matter
what the cost!” Winslow vowed solemnly in an unbreakable
stare.

“That’s what I want to
hear, Deputy Fleet Commander,” Wakinyan spoke, delighting in
Winslow renewed pride and honor.

The two men then released
their grips.

“I now need to make a
request of you,” Richard enlightened.

“Anything, Sir!” John
responded with gratitude.

“Since
the
Crazy Horse
is
undergoing extensive repairs, I request your permission to hold a
staff meeting of all our fleet’s captains and executive officers
aboard the
Mariner
in about an hour from now. Do I have your permission to do so,
Deputy Commander?” Richard asked respectfully.

“Absolutely, Sir! We can
use one of the hanger bays.”

“Good. In the meantime,
I’ve issued the necessary orders to bring our fleet up to a state
of full readiness. I desperately need you to help me keep on top of
it.”

“Can do, Sir!” John replied
faithfully. “I’ll make it my absolute priority!”

“Thank you. I’ll see you at
the meeting, John.” Richard said as he turned away to exit the
room.

“Aye-aye, Sir,” Winslow affirmed as Wakinyan
left.

After Wakinyan had vanished, Winslow slowly touched
his collar where a star now was pinned. His fingers brushed the
metal, feeling its cold hardness and pointed tips. It was something
he did not believe or expect.

Although he had craved this rank, he now felt so
ashamed of himself to wear it. But he was resolved to prove
Wakinyan’s trust and belief in him.

As he
turned to leave, Winslow realized how very wrong he had been about
the former captain of the
Crazy
Horse
. Most Martian fleet officers still
considered Wakinyan to be a “savage,” but in reality, Wakinyan was
the most civilized man of them all.

Although the Lakota was a resourceful and fierce
warrior when it came to combat, he still valued people and treated
them with an uncommon fairness and respectful courtesy. This was
something Winslow would never have gotten from his other “peers”
who mainly based their decisions on military regulations and
personal agenda.

As John thought more upon
it as he stepped through the hatch, he was absolutely convinced of
his enlightened opinion. It was there for all to see; Commander
Richard Wakinyan was the best man for the job.

* * * * *

At the edge at the Valamars
System, a repair shuttle lumbered away at a snail’s pace from a
Martian military ship tender that it had been transported in. The
elliptical shaped craft boasted several types of control arms on
either side. The most prominent features, however, were the large
three-prong cylindrical metallic members, which were used for
gripping objects of various widths and depth.

Normally for space travel,
these arms were side-locked and closed, while the ship sped away on
its course. This allowed for greater maneuverability as well as
safety. Yet, the shuttle was on an urgent mission that required the
control arms to be fully extended and opened.

Furthermore, the vehicle’s
speed was extremely slow by deliberate choice. It was prowling
among the domain of asteroids, meteors, and comets for an illusive
device that would serve as the bait in a Martian trap. This made
the shuttle an easy target for any nearby objects hurling through
space at terminal velocities.

Piloting the vehicle,
Captain Benson’s hands sweated nervously on the control sticks he
held. He was not use to flying a craft so slowly, where a rock
moving at over a hundred miles a second could crash into the
shuttle’s thin hull with little or no warning. For this, he hated
being a trusted marine officer of such technical
talents.

“We’re approaching the
cipher scout’s reported insertion point. Do you have a fix on it?”
Benson directed his question to the shuttle’s only other passenger,
Engineer Abner Strephon.

Abner’s face was buried in
the faint glow of a scanner. “No, it’s hard to detect because it’s
made of a carbon composite resin studded with nanometer slit-pins.
These design features were incorporated to bend light around the
scout to make it visually transparent while defeating normal
magnetic scanning. Also each device intermittently broadcasts into
hyperspace using different sets of frequencies that blend in with
the cosmic background radiation.”

Benson grew curious. “How
the hell do you expect to find it then?”

“I said it was hard—not
impossible,” Strephon corrected. “The scout was designed to be
invisible to sensors, but by using a combination of spectral
analysis along with motion detection through gravitational lensing,
we should be able to locate it if it hasn’t drifted too
far.”

“Come again?” Benson was
troubled by the explanation.

“They’re techniques that
were once used to locate asteroids. By comparing subtle changes of
background star patterns along with the density of their spectral
radiation fields, we should be able to spot it. And a faint
diamagnetic reading will verify that it is the scout.” Abner
elaborated further.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to
just drag space with a fishing net?” Benson joked back.