CROSSFIRE - Atlantis DSV - New Cape Quest

Liberty, Rampant and even the massive Reverence class battlecruiser Ark Royal being
counted among the losses. It was the single greatest toll exacted against the UEO carrier
fleet since Pearl Harbor, and had cost the fleet the tenth carrier battlegroup, and its entire
sea wing.
The UEO task force – sent on an a misbegotten raid to try and cripple the Alliance
command facilities at what used to be called Fort Saratoga – had been met by over three
times their number in Alliance cruisers, attack submarines and fighters. The battle had been
decided in less than two hours, with the flagship Ark Royal sinking to a concerted and
determined attack by Alliance fighters. The attack had come at the absolute insistence of the
Secretary General, who had driven the move behind a „need‟ to demonstrate that they were
still working towards a „positive resolution of the conflict‟.
The political rhetoric aside, it had served to severely demonstrate the extent of the
Alliance fortification at Pearl Harbor. A simple raid on the outer defences had ended in
disaster, and no one had the courage to try the same thing again. Newly-promoted Fleet-
Captain Luke Rawlings had been the quiet right hand of Admiral Riley for two years since he
had raised his flag on Constellation, and he had commanded the submarine, watched over
her and protected her since she was commissioned in 2039. Riley had seemed to have
made a point of keeping Rawlings in the centre chair since he had come aboard and
Rawlings had grown comfortable with the ship. It had grown on him, and he in turn had
grown on it to the point of it fitting like a glove. The Fleet-Captain sat in silence at the back of
the bridge, watching the Admiral with a casual eye as he went about the usual business of
signing off department reports and reading the most recent contact and action sheets from
his fighter squadrons. What was an easy but tense day for the ship was invariably a day in
hell for the pilots who brought their patrols to the very edge of the border, and it was almost
on a daily basis that a skirmish occurred.
Jack Riley was the man behind it. For months since the loss of Ark Royal, he had
steadily ramped up the number of ships and battlegroups along the border, and predictably,
the Macronesian Alliance had responded. The build-up was played out like a game of poker:
bluff, raise and call, wondering when the other person would fold.
Rawlings studied Riley for a moment before checking his watch. It was 1440. He
cursed silently as he saw how time had slipped away and then quickly turned to his XO,
Commander Jennifer Millner. “XO, you have the Conn. I‟ll be on E-Deck.”
She nodded and looked up at the rest of the bridge crew. “XO has the Conn,” she
announced loudly. Riley turned at this, and looked at Rawlings. The Captain tapped his
watch; Riley smiled, and without further word waved him out of the bridge.
The Fleet-Captain returned the salute of the two marines who stood guard at the
bridge entrance and slipped in to the corridor. It felt like days since he‟d left the command
deck he reflected silently, and rounded the stairwell to E-Deck, two decks below his feet.
It was a short walk to the officer‟s quarter, which during the midday watch was about
as populated as a ghost town. Normally the corridors of the battlecruiser were filled with the
sounds of milling crew members, or even quiet conversation. Now, somewhat oddly, all
Rawlings could hear was the gentle hum of the ship‟s machinery – a sound and feeling he
was so accustomed to that it never normally crossed his mind. Rawlings reached a
hatchway down the end of the corridor and paused before wrapping lightly on the frame.
“Enter,” said the voice inside mutedly.
Admiral Mark Ainsley sat quietly on the lounge at the center of the room, sorting
through a number of papers that had been conspicuously marked as “classified”. Even from
the door, Rawlings could see the recognisable crest of the Office of Naval Intelligence that
sat on the corners of the pages, and knew it best not to pry.
“Afternoon, Captain Rawlings,” Ainsley offered as he turned and slipped the pages
back in to a briefcase.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he returned sharply as he descended the small set of stairs in
to the day cabin. “I understand your launch is leaving soon, sir. I came to see if there was
anything you needed before you disembarked?”
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