Breach of Duty
Breach of Duty
Breach of Faith Book Three
Daniel Gibbs
Gary T. Stevens
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Epilogue
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Free Daniel Gibbs Books
Acknowledgements
Breach of Duty by Daniel Gibbs and Gary T. Stevens
Copyright © 2020 by Daniel Gibbs
Visit Daniel Gibb’s website at www.danielgibbsauthor.net
Cover by Jeff Brown Graphics—www.jeffbrowngraphics.com
Additional Illustrations by Joel Steudler—www.joelsteudler.com
Editing by Beth at BZhercules.com
3D Art by Benoit Leonard
This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions please contact info@eotp.net.
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Echoes of War
Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight
Book 2 - Strong and Courageous
Book 3 - So Fight I
Book 4 - Gates of Hell
Book 5 - Keep the Faith
Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet
Breach of Faith
(With Gary T. Stevens)
Book 1 - Breach of Peace
Book 2 - Breach of Faith
Book 3 - Breach of Duty
Book 4 - Breach of Trust
Prologue
Coalition Defense Force HQ
Lawrence City, Canaan, Terran Coalition
10 June 2462
The conference room was one of many in the Coalition Defense Force's Administration Complex. An assembled party of personnel waited quietly for the formal change of command ceremony and a look at their new commanding officer. The formality was new to very few of them, given the flow of personnel in and out of Administration, but they treated it with habitual respect regardless. Perhaps more than usual, in fact, as their new CO was a decorated field officer.
Colonel Tabitha Hale, formerly the captain of the cruiser CSV Saladin, walked up to stand before them. She was a woman of slender build approaching middle-age, a few streaks of gray already showing in her hair, the rest the color of fine red wine. Her dark brown eyes remained fixed on General Andrew MacIntosh, the line commander she'd most recently been assigned—provisionally—to, who waited with patience alongside General Malik al-Rashad of the Procurement Department.
To the assembled, she was the epitome of the CDF officer with how she carried herself. Medals and commendations were on the breast of her olive-colored uniform jacket. They spoke of past triumphs in the war against the League of Sol's invasion forces. Eyes fixed particularly on the violet and green ribbon that represented the new Freedom Station Victory Citation—awarded to those officers who contributed to the victory at the League's Unity Station. Their new CO wasn't just an experienced field officer, she was a bona fide war hero.
Once she was standing before him, Hale brought her hand to her brow in a firm salute.
MacIntosh returned it and, without even glancing toward his digital tablet, began the formal statement to the other assembled officers and personnel. "It's my pleasure to bring Colonel Hale to this command. She's done an excellent job in the fleet. In the battle for Unity Station, the Saladin stayed in the fight, even after sustaining grievous damage, and helped bring us the victory that might finally see this war come to an end. I'd say she's earned a rest, but we all have, and we all know there's no rest to be found in Procurement." There was applause and chuckles at that. "Without further delay, your new commanding officer. Everyone, Colonel Tabitha Hale."
The civilians in the room clapped while the CDF personnel gave a respectful salute to Hale as she stepped forward, exuding confident authority in her movements. "At ease," she said, saluting them in reply. Her accent was a plain, easy one, the kind associated with the American-descended colonists of the planet dubbed New Ohio. "It's an honor to be here today. Our job's an important one. We keep our fighting men and women in shape by acquiring only the best equipment for them. That means we have to be vigilant to make sure they continue to get the best and ensure we're not wasting the resources of the Coalition on anything less." Hale noted the military personnel nodding in agreement. The civilians applauded again. "Over the next few days, I'll meet with all of our supervising officers and contractors to get a feel for what's on the table right now. Consider my office open for anyone who has a suggestion or a point to make. I'll take it under consideration. If you're right, I'll make sure everyone knows. If you're wrong, it won't go outside my office." She hoped her words encouraged people to bring their concerns and ideas to her, and that was important to her command style. "Well, everyone, I've got nothing more to say, and we have a war to win. You're dismissed."
Her subordinates fell out. General al-Rashad offered his hand. "Great speech," he said, his English spoken with the accent of a New Arabian.
"Indeed. Simple and to the point." MacIntosh shook her hand next. "I've already submitted your name to the Promotion Board. You'll get your first star this month or the next, I promise."
Hale nodded with respect. "Thank you, General. It'll be an honor."
The two generals left her behind at that point. She departed as well. The interior halls of Administration were alabaster-colored. The carpet was elegant emerald green with ocean blue along the walls. Images adorned the walls, prominent officers from the history of the CDF, usually, or moments of historical importance.
Hale had enough taste to enjoy the art, but she also had other concerns. Those led her to her new office. He
r secretary, Yeoman Chaim Lewinsky, nodded to her and said, "Congratulations, Colonel; it's official." His uniform marked him an NCO in the administrative branch of the CDF, with a Star of David patch on the left shoulder to show his religious affiliation. Years ago, Hale had worn the cross of the Lutheran church but had since ceased, not from any lack of faith, but personal convictions about the patches and their necessity.
"Only provisional until I get my star," she replied. "But thanks." She moved on past Lewinsky and into her office. She'd already brought some things in. Images of family and comrades, some lost to the war, all reminders of what was at stake. Another picture showed the medals she'd won, including her recent acquisition of a Star of Valor for the battle to take Unity Station. The award brought mixed feelings from her.
She recognized the need for such honors, and how they inspired the service as a whole, and she was duly proud of winning it—proud of the courage she'd summoned to lead her damaged ship back into the fight to help win a pivotal battle. At the same time, she considered how many of her crew never came home from that battle.
Her mind flashed back to the funeral after the battle. The wail of bagpipes and the sad bugle tones that accompanied the slain as they were committed to the void of space. The melancholy took hold of her, with words quoted from a pre-Exodus General from the 19th Century coming to mind. "Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won." I didn't even win the battle. Colonel Cohen won that battle for us.
Hale sat at her desk and activated the computer system built into it. A holo-display came up. She moved her hands to the keyboard and typed in her military ID and personalized access code. Now that her position was official, the code worked, giving her expanded access to the procurement database and system. From her terminal, she could access information on the hundreds of contracts that kept the CDF supplied with everything from advanced Hunter missiles to rolls of toilet paper.
But neither of those interested her. What did was the database itself, and the reports her new clearance gave her legal access to. After glancing at her closed door, she started typing in what she wanted to find. With the enhanced speed from the latest in quantum-level computing software, her query worked through the exabytes of data in the Coalition Defense Force systems until it found what she was looking for. The document presented itself on her screen.
Investigative Report on Incident involving CSV Laffey.
"There you are," she murmured. Memories of the Laffey came to her, and should anyone be watching, her expression would speak of determination and an old, bitter frustration. "The first step to the truth."
In the heart of the Coalition Defense Force Administration Complex, General Ulysses Erhart was busy with his work. As the ten-year-long head of special projects, he was responsible for the bureaucratic side of many new technological initiatives to help push the Coalition to victory. He appreciated, sincerely, that it let him keep fighting after his time in field command was over.
His office was more spartan than Hale's smaller one. He had the requisite flags and furnishings, but there were few pictures. The only prominent ones were on his desk. For Erhart, it was a painful thing to see them every day, but it reminded him of the need for his work and why, even as he grew older and more tired, he had to stay the course.
A tone came from his desk. "General, Mister Faulkner is here," said his aide, Colonel Ari Ze'evi.
Erhart sighed. "Let him in, Colonel."
The door opened. The man who entered was Oliver Faulkner, President and CEO of Kalling Engineering. They were a large defense contractor for the Coalition, responsible for the development and construction of several military engine systems, including the fusion drives that gave the newest classes of CDF destroyers significant acceleration advantages over their League counterparts.
Faulkner was their favored public face, a fact Erhart recognized as reasonable, given his influence. He was still gaining weight as he approached the end of his sixth decade, with blue eyes and light brown hair, graying at the temples. Those blue eyes were not in a pleasant state either, showing great agitation. Erhart refused to let himself sigh again as he felt like doing. Faulkner was, despite his success, something of a worrywart. "Oliver, what can I do for you?"
"You can explain why they let that damn woman get a high post in Procurement!"
Erhart shrugged. He'd expected this. "She's a war hero. That's usually reason enough."
Faulkner nodded. "Dammit, Erhart, she's a threat to us both. She's never let the Laffey go. We're so close now..."
"Which is exactly why you shouldn't panic," Erhart said, aiming for a soothing tone. "Hale's going to have a lot of work to do. She won't have time to find anything that might hurt us. Not before we've already finished."
"Are you sure?" Faulkner demanded. "We've been working on this for ten years, Erhart, ten years. And some of my colleagues are already getting squirrely about it with all our battlefield victories now. Things aren't as scary as they were eight years ago. With things this tough, we can't take risks, and I won't have it all messed up because that… that bitch can't let the Laffey go."
Erhart blanched at Faulkner's language. For all his attempts at appearing the sophisticated businessman, he could be blunt and crude when driven to agitation—which was far too often. "Everything's fine. We're almost done. It'll only become undone if we draw too much suspicion." He dropped the broad hint, hoping Faulkner would take it.
"We should have dealt with the entire Laffey crew years ago. Taken them all out."
"We did deal with it, or rather, I did at your behest," Erhart reminded him. "Colonel Henry took the blame and cleared you. Going after his officers would have ruined that."
"But now they're going to ruin us!"
"Not if you keep your head!" Erhart hissed, his patience strained. "And stop trying to drop in on me!" He leveled a sharp look at his "partner." "I have the Laffey situation well in hand."
"What about Ostrovsky? He keeps snooping."
The reference to the head of CDF Intelligence did nothing to faze Erhart. "He's in the dark. I've worked hard to keep it that way. That won't work if you start dropping in on my office regularly." That last sentence was said with all the ice of an Oort cloud. "So get out of here and go back to making your preparations, Oliver. I've got everything on this side under control."
Faulkner didn't appear convinced. Nevertheless, he relented, giving a final heated look to his partner before leaving.
Erhart sighed and rubbed at his forehead. One or two meetings with Faulkner a month wouldn't raise any alarms—Kalling did plenty of research business—but repeated visits would. At least we're almost done. The plan's taken a long time to work out, but soon it'll be over. He glanced at the picture on his desk. The pain in him throbbed.
Faulkner's paranoia aside, it wouldn't hurt to keep tabs on Hale. She might cause trouble. Erhart had watched her career long enough to know she'd never accepted the outcome of the Laffey Incident. Not like the others. He brought up their information. Tabitha Hale, former XO. Colonel Anthony Xu, former TAO. Major Joachim Mueller, former helmsman. And Major Janine Renner, former comm officer. He kept tabs on them all to make sure there were no problems. There aren't any, yet. And it'll be a moot point soon.
Maybe he should have destroyed all of them back then, yes, but it didn't make sense to deprive the CDF of so many good officers. Not to mention, it would've forced the trial Faulkner himself had been so desperate to avoid. Their fates had been such useful leverage against the one sacrifice he did have to make, the one that protected Kalling from the results of Faulkner's own greed and stupidity.
He brought up the last profile. A man of dark skin, from the communities of New Virginia descended from the Exodus Fleet's African-American contingent. Sad to see such a promising officer fall so low, he said of the man who had once been CO of the Laffey when it had its fateful accident. The former Colonel James Henry was now, according to Erhart's intelligence, running a ship in Neutral Space. A b
rave CDF officer reduced to a mercenary smuggler for hire.
It would be wise to keep tabs on him, just in case, no matter where he was in the lawless reaches of the neutral worlds.
1
ISV Shadow Wolf
Cyclades, Independent System, Neutral Space
12 July 2462
Some jobs were too good to be true.
At least a dozen armed bounty hunters, male and female, human and Tal'mayan and Saurian, were now in the hangar. Rows of crates of Cycladian grapefruit, apples, and pears provided them cover as well as the Shadow Wolf crew, with the obvious downside that the containers were getting shot up in the process.
Captain James Henry was at the corner of the forward port hold, using this space as cover from enemy fire. His trusty CP-2520 pistol was on his belt as a backup weapon to the pulse rifle that he held in his hands. His grandfather's old gun from the late Saurian Wars came up and his eye settled into the raised scope, giving his shots killing precision when he had a moment to fire. His eye locked on to one of the bounty hunters as she came out of cover, evidently looking to shoot at his comrades, and he squeezed the trigger. A pulse of white-blue energy slammed into her neck, a fatal blow.