Issue In Doubt - By David Sherman Page 0,1

100,000 kilometers from the object when laser beams lanced out from it and shredded the tender.

Twenty shocked minutes later, the orbital lasers of Troy’s defensive batteries shot beams of coherent light. The only effect the lasers seemed to have on the object, which was now obviously a warship from some unknown people, was to provide the enemy with the location of the defensive weapons. Within minutes, all of Troy’s orbital laser batteries were knocked out by counter-battery fire from the enemy starship. It had committed an act of war when it vaporized the John Andrews, hadn’t it? Didn’t that make it the enemy?

When the enemy starship was a quarter million kilometers out, it fired braking rockets, which slowed its speed and altered its vector enough to reach high orbit rather than colliding with the planet. Small objects began flicking off it and heading toward the surface.

Ground-based laser and missile batteries began firing at the small vessels. The mother-ship killed those batteries as easily as she had killed the orbital batteries.

Shortly after that the first landers made planetfall, and reports of wholesale slaughter began coming in, William F. Lukes, President of Troy, ordered all the data they had on the invasion uploaded onto drones and the drones launched: Destination Earth.

The unidentified enemy killed the first several drones, but stopped shooting them when it became obvious that they were running away rather than attacking.

Two days later, four of the drones reached the Sol System via wormhole. It took ten more days for a North American Union Navy frigate to pick one of them up and carry it to Garroway Base on Mars, from where its coded message was transmitted to the NAU’s Supreme Military Headquarters on Earth.

Chapter One

Supreme Military Headquarters, Bellevue, Sarpy County, Federal Zone, North American Union

Major General Joseph H. de Castro swept past the guards standing outside the entrance to the offices of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and marched through the cavernous, darkly paneled outer office directly to the desk of Colonel Nicholas Fox, which sat below the colors of all the military services of the NAU.

“Nick,” de Castro said, “I need to see the Chairman, right now. I don’t care who he’s meeting with.”

Fox leaned back in his chair and looked up at de Castro with mild curiosity. “Joe, you know I can’t let people just barge in on the Chairman.” He shook his head. “His schedule today is packed tighter than a constipated jarhead. Maybe if he stops by the Flag Club later on, you can get a minute or two with him. Can’t help you, Joe.” Fox then looked intently at his console, as though he had pressing business to attend to. His behavior was insubordinate, but in this office, acting in his official capacity as gatekeeper to the Chairman, he effectively outranked anybody with fewer than four stars, and de Castro had only two.

“If you knew what I have here,” de Castro tapped the right breast pocket of his uniform jacket, “you wouldn’t be wasting my time. I’d already be telling the Chairman what I’ve got.”

“So tell me what you’ve got. I’ll decide if it’s important enough to disrupt the Chairman’s schedule.”

De Castro glowered at Fox for a few seconds, then said, steely-voiced, “Have it your way, Nick. You can explain to the Chairman why I had to jump the chain.” He about-faced to march out, but Fox stopped him before he’d taken more than two steps.

“Wait a minute, Joe. What do you mean, ‘jump the chain’?”

De Castro half turned back. “I’m going fifty paces. This can’t wait.” Fifty paces was the distance from where he was to the offices of the Secretary of War.

“You wouldn’t!” Fox said, shocked.

“I will.”

Colonel Fox opened his mouth to say something more, but thought for a couple of seconds before he spoke. “Wait one,” he said, and tapped his desk comm, the direct line to the Chairman’s inner sanctum.

“Sir,” he said apologetically when the Chairman came on, “Major General de Castro is here. He says he has something that requires the Secretary’s immediate attention.” He paused to listen, answered, “No sir, he won’t tell me what it is.” Another pause to listen. “I’ll tell him, sir.” He looked at de Castro. “He’ll see you in a minute or so.”

De Castro faced the door leading deeper into the Chairman’s offices, and stood at ease, patiently waiting. A moment later, the door opened and de Castro snapped to attention. Fleet Admiral Ira Clinton Welborn, Chairman of the Joint