Nightfall

by Jay Allan

  “Treachery?” Chronos wondered if the Senate had somehow tricked him, if their capitulation had been a ruse of some kind.

  “I don’t believe so, Commander. All indications are that a substantial number of enemy troops have, indeed, laid down their arms. Our best intelligence suggests, however, that these units consist heavily of local militias and reserve forces. The vast majority of the enemy’s heavily-armed ground troops appear to remain in the field, actively attacking our own forces.”

  Chronos was silent for a moment. He’d had similar reports from Dannith, and he’d always responded by reminding those involved how little he cared for their excuses. But, now, he was hearing it from one of the few officers he relied upon.

  The Kriegeri were bred for war, most of the best specimens taken into training facilities in childhood and raised to join specific regiments. They endured multiple rounds of painful surgery to install the implants, and they took their places in a life of endless military service. They would breed the next group of Kriegeri, of course, at least the best specimens would, but there would be little contact with their breeding partners after copulation, nor any of note with their offspring. There was little enough contact with anyone outside immediate comrades. Even those destined for high rank would remain almost entirely focused on military matters.

  By all accounts, the Confederation soldiers were nothing like the Kriegeri. They were recruited or drafted as adults, and they fought with no implants, no physical upgrades of any kind. They weren’t a match for the Kriegeri, of course, not in an even fight…but, they were a lot closer than any enemy the Hegemony had yet encountered. Any save for the Others.

  “Are you suggesting that renegade soldiers refusing the orders to surrender constitute a significant threat to our landing forces?” Chronos knew that was just what the megaron was saying…but, he wanted to hear Illius explain it.

  “I am, Commander.” Chronos appreciated the blunt honesty, and he listened intently. “The enemy appears to remain active in considerable numbers, far more than I had anticipated. We face a considerable challenge in forcing our landings and getting enough strength on the ground and formed up to conduct our breakouts.”

  Chronos would have admonished any of his other officers, but Illius wasn’t one to be easily shaken by enemy action, or to ask for resources he didn’t need. “What are you proposing, Megaron? I assume you have something in mind.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand the restrictions on ground bombardments, and I completely agree with the mandates to take control of the enemy capital intact. But, I believe we need to support our landings with targeted orbital bombardments. Just until we can get significant heavy forces on the ground and in formation. I believe we can limit the damage mostly to sparsely inhabited areas…though the enemy is deployed in strength around the capital city, and there will likely be some, limited impact to sections of the urban area.”

  Chronos took a deep breath. His impulse was to refuse the request, even though it came from Illius. The conquest of the Rim was intended to bring new worlds into the Hegemony, to tap into massive populations that were mostly untouched by the mutations and genetic damage so prevalent in the coreward regions. The more brutality he was forced to unleash, the more difficult it would be to assimilate the ex-Confeds into the Hegemony.

  And, if he authorized the use of too much force, if his fleet began nuking cities and unleashing other devastating weapons, he could very well destroy the one thing that made the Rim populations so extraordinary, the absence of mutations and genetic damage in the chromosomal pools.

  “Very well,” he finally said, “but conventional ordnance only. No nuclear weapons, no chemical or biological agents.”

  “Thank you, Commander. I will closely monitor all attacks and ensure that the minimum needed force is applied.”

  “You may all go.” His voice was suddenly deep, imperious. “Except you Illius. You remain.” It was a sudden demand that took the others by surprise. But, they quickly obeyed. Few in the Hegemony were slow to respond when Number Eight issued an order.

  Chronos waited until only the two of them remained. “Illius, my old friend, I trust you to exercise caution. We need to take Megara without inflicting too many civilian casualties or too much damage to the infrastructure. The planet will likely become the regional capital of the Rim, and it will need the facilities to serve in that capacity. Besides, we still want to assimilate these people as smoothly as possible. The fewer martyrs and the less brutality, the faster we will achieve that.”

  “Yes, Commander. I will obtain your specific approval for every planned bombardment before…”

  “No.”

  Illius turned and looked over at Chronos. “Commander?”

  “I will not be here, Illius. Enough time has elapsed since the survivors of the enemy forces fled. Too much time. I must take the fleet now in pursuit and finish things. The next fight will likely be the last one. The Confederation forces have been impressive in both their abilities and their tenacity, but they have suffered very heavy losses. We have located their new position, three jumps from here. I am leading the fleet out tomorrow…and leaving you in command here. Do what you must, but be cautious, deliberative. Look not just to the victory, but to the future beyond, and remember, these people are tomorrow’s strength of the Hegemony. The industry here on the Rim is more dynamic and productive that anything coreward. We need these people, their energy…even as they need us to guide them.”

  “Understood, Commander.” A pause. “I won’t let you down.”

  Chronos nodded. “I know you won’t.” And, he meant it.

  Illius was the only officer in the fleet he wasn’t worried about.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Orbital Platform Killian

  Planet Craydon, Calvus System

  Year 318 AC

  “Admiral Barron, we’re getting energy readings from the Crawford transit point.”

  Tyler Barron’s head snapped around. “Details on my screen, as soon as they come in.” He wasn’t expecting anything from that direction, but a few scattered ships had come in over the past two months, stragglers rallying to the main fleet from various frontier postings. The Crawford point was the last place he expected any Hegemony forces to emerge.

  Barron had been sitting quietly in the control center. Actually, he’d been brooding, though he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. Admiral Nguyen had made it clear to him that his decision to send Clint Winters to command the raiding force had not come from any lack of confidence in his abilities. Quite the contrary Nguyen had based his choice on who he thought he most needed with him to command the main fleet. Barron even believed that. Still, he knew the fight at Craydon was a lost cause, and while he wouldn’t have gone so far as to say the raid on Megara could win the war, it was just about the only hope to keep the fight going, and possibly even to force the enemy to retreat from the capital.

  You’ve always been the one to lead the desperate and crazy missions…and you don’t like being left behind. Being the old man, in charge of the staid, old school tactic…

  Barron had never considered himself an egotist, but he realized he’d bought more into the legends that had grown up around him than he wanted to admit.

  “Put it through the AI, Commander.” Barron didn’t know what could be coming through, but he wasn’t overly concerned.

  Crawford is on the line out to the Union…

  There was a time that would have concerned him, but he longed for the days when Union fleets were the worst thing he had to worry about. The Union was still his enemy, but fortunately, they weren’t ready for a return engagement. They couldn’t be.

  “It looks like a single ship, Admiral.” A pause. “It’s through.” Another moment passed. “AI says it’s a fast cruiser, Admiral.” The officer stopped abruptly, and he looked over toward Barron. “It’s a Malikov-class light cruiser, sir. A Union ship.”

  The words hit Barron, and it only took a second for the reality
to coalesce. It was a Union ship.

  “Battlestations, Commander. All fleet units and orbital platforms at full alert.” He felt anger welling up inside him, renewed hatred for the Union. The entire Rim was fighting for its life…and the reality of what he was seeing became starkly clear. The Union was taking the opportunity to strike at the Confederation while it was engaged with the Hegemony.

  His mind was dark, and he hated the Senate almost as much as the Union. He blamed them for stopping the fleet from finishing the endless series of wars once and for all. The politicians had caused this, and now, whatever chance his people had was gone. Even if Winters somehow completed his mission, there was no way the fleet could fight two enemies.

  “Admiral, we’re getting a communique.” The officer turned around again, a stunned look on his face. “They are requesting a line to the fleet’s commander.”

  Barron stared back, unsure what to think. It was a Union ship, and that made him suspicious. But, he couldn’t see what a single ship could hope to do. Issue a threat? Or something else? “Commander, I want full active scanners on that transit point. I want to know if so much as a cloud of dust is about to pass through on the heels of that ship.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Barron took a deep breath. He almost passed the job off to Nguyen, but the admiral had finally gone to his quarters for a rest, and he didn’t want to disturb that unless he absolutely had to. The old fleet commander had driven himself almost to death over the past few weeks, and Barron was going to see that he got some sleep. Nothing short of the whole Union fleet coming through that point was going to change that.

  “Put them through, Commander.” Barron’s voice was edgy, harsh. He was trying to keep his hatred for the Union in check, but memories of what Ricard Lille had done to Andi, of the nightmare she’d been put through, kept pushing their way into this mind.

  “On your line, Admiral.”

  “This is Admiral Tyler Barron. You are violating Confederation space, in violation of the treaties in effect between our nations. You have committed an act of war, and I order you to power down at once and prepare to be boarded.” He didn’t expect the Union ship to do as he demanded, but he didn’t really care. Honestly, he’d be just as happy to blast them to atoms…and this time the Senate wasn’t going to save them.

  “Admiral Barron, this is Captain Raymonde Chanticleer of the cruiser D’alvert. Our intrusion into Confederation space is not an aggression against the Confederation. I am here to offer a treaty of alliance, between the Confederation and the Union fleet.”

  Barron was stunned. He felt as though he’d been sucker punched. “Excuse me, Captain? You invaded our space to request an alliance?” Barron was actually angrier than he’d been at first. He didn’t know what kind of game this captain was playing, but he knew better than to believe anything anyone from the Union told him. And, what does he mean, ‘Union fleet?’

  Barron waited while the signal traveled to the Union vessel, and the response returned. It was always annoying to try to communicate with a thirty second delay between each answer, but this time, Barron was especially raw.

  “Admiral Barron, I assure you, this is not the way I—or Admiral Denisov—would have chosen to handle this matter. We had no choice, and I urge you to listen to what I have to say.”

  “Captain Chanticleer, I don’t know what you mean by ‘no choice,’ but there are numerous ways to initiate diplomatic negotiations without simply violating our borders. Now, I will repeat, one final time. You are to power down at once and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply within one minute, you will be destroyed. I trust this is clear enough to you.”

  “We were attacked by the Hegemony, Admiral. That is why we’re here.” Barron was startled by the what he was hearing. Then, the captain’s words truly sunk in.

  “The Hegemony? You fought Hegemony forces?” Barron didn’t know if he believed the officer, but something in his gut told him it was true. Was the Hegemony moving against the Union as well? It made sense. They almost certainly wanted the whole Rim, and not just the Confederation.

  But, that would mean they had even more ships than those deployed against his forces. The mere thought of that made him nauseous. He didn’t want to talk to some Union officer. The whole thing was anathema to him. And, he was still suspicious of a trap.

  But, there was no choice. He had to know whatever he could about the Hegemony. And, he damned sure had to understand why there were Union ships in Confederation space.

  “Yes, Admiral. The Hegemony. The same enemy you are currently fighting.”

  The captain’s response came through the comm, even as Barron was formulating his own next move. “Captain,” he finally said, “you will approach Craydon at one tenth thrust levels, and you will come to a dead stop at three hundred million kilometers. You will then take a shuttle and come to me here. You will receive further instructions as you commence your final approach. If you deviate from the course transmitted to you, or if we detect any energy spikes, on your shuttle or on your ship, you will be destroyed. Is that understood?”

  Barron waited, wondering if he’d been too aggressive, if he’d allowed his hatred toward the Union to control him too deeply. But, the answer, when it came, told him that was not a problem.

  “Your terms are acceptable, Admiral. We will begin our approach at once.”

  Barron leaned back in the chair, his mind reeling at the officer’s quick acceptance. What the hell is going on?

  He didn’t know, but he was damned sure going to find out.

  He was sure about one other thing. This was definitely a reason to awaken Admiral Nguyen.

  * * *

  “I know you wanted more time for testing, Doctor, and I understand why you were pushed to move forward without it. I’m inclined to agree with the admirals. They need everything they can get. I just wanted to ask you what you think. What you really think. Without pressure, with no one else listening. Will all this stuff work?” Andi stood in Dauntless’s engineering section, watching as Witter supervised the modifications to the battleship’s primaries. She’d already said her goodbyes to Tyler, at least for the next few days. She was still Hermes’s commander, and until she relinquished that position, she was going to take it seriously. She’d been away from her ship for several days, and it was time to check up on things. If the wait for the enemy attack continued, if things were still quiet in three or four days, maybe she could get back and they could steal a few more moments.

  “That’s a difficult question to answer, Captain. Do I believe in a given instance, if a weapon is fired, that it will function? Yes, almost certainly. Similarly, the stealth generators will work on an ongoing basis as long as they are operated properly.” The scientist paused for a moment. “The problem isn’t most of the time. The problem is achieving the levels of consistency that are necessary. Stealth generators can function on sixteen ships for extended periods of time, but just one of them failing at the wrong time, for even a few seconds, could be devastating. A battleship can fire a hundred shots, but if one of them fails catastrophically, the energy feedback could cripple the ship, even destroy it.”

  Andi stood still and listened. She knew everything Witter was telling her…and it wasn’t what she’d asked. She wanted numbers. She wanted to know what the chance was that one of the stealth units would give out when Winters’s ships were in Megara, or how likely it was that Dauntless, or any of the other battleships would experience a disastrous malfunction.

  She was about to ask him again, more pointedly—and with considerably more aggression—but something stopped her.

  He isn’t evading answering you. He just doesn’t know.

  That made sense, of course. It was one of the big reasons Witter had argued so hard for more testing. The scientist had been right. Those systems weren’t ready. They weren’t reliable enough to count on.

  But, Barron and Nguyen and Winters had been right, too. None of that mattered. They needed whatever they could
get, regardless of the risk. If they couldn’t count on something, they would gamble on it. Things were that desperate.

  She just nodded to Witter, and extended her hand, shaking his. Then, she turned and left to catch her shuttle to Hermes. As she walked down the corridor, one though settled in her mind.

  Would this amazing new tech save Tyler? Or, would it kill him?

  Or, would it make no difference at all in what was about to happen?

  * * *

  “I don’t trust them, Admiral, not one bit. It’s as likely they’re in with the Hegemony as sincere about joining us against them. And, what about this story that the fleet took off into our space without permission, and in violation of orders. I don’t know everything about service in the Union, but Sector Nine is no mystery to any of us. Could a Union admiral really do something like this, and pull it off?” Barron hesitated. Then, he added, “I just don’t buy it.”

  Nguyen had been silent, calm, listening to Barron’s rants. He knew the admiral’s memories of facing the Union in battle were far fresher than his own, that there’d been less time for the wounds to heal. He also knew about Andi’s experiences, at least what Gary Holsten had told him. That wasn’t everything, he suspected, but it was enough to explain Barron’s incendiary hatred for the Union.

  “Tyler, you’re the smartest officer I know…mostly likely, that I have ever known, your grandfather included. But, you’re letting your anger blind you here. I know you haven’t deluded yourself on our chances at Craydon. The fight coming our way was hopeless before we sent Clint Winters off with sixteen of our best ships. We may be able to pull back, retreat again, but where will we go? Losing the Core was one thing. That was bad enough, but it didn’t cost us any real production. If we can’t hold the Iron Belt, or a good part of it, what are we going to do? Throw rocks at the enemy?”

  Barron stared back at Nguyen, and it was obvious from his expression that he understood what the admiral was saying, even that he agreed. But, he was still having trouble accepting the logic of it all.