by Jay Allan
But he wasn’t planning the enemy attack. The Highborn were. And if he’d learned one thing about this new enemy, it was their arrogance. They clearly considered themselves vastly above the human forces, to an extent that made the Hegemony’s initial superiority complex against the Rim nations seem almost innocuous by comparison.
“I agree with all you say, Chronos…but nevertheless, I believe the enemy will attack as Ilius suggests. They do not believe we can stop them, no matter how they attack, and I seriously doubt the damage we inflicted on them at Pharsalon was sufficient to change that view in any material way. My guess is, they will say they underestimated our strength, that the arrival of the Confederation forces interfered with their initial plans. There is no shortage of ways to explain away losses, nor lack of excuses for failure. I very much doubt our enemy, however technologically advanced they are, have outgrown such flaws. They will reinforce their attack force, almost certainly. No doubt, that is the primary reason we have enjoyed the respite we have, but I do not believe they will waste additional time seeking out weaker approaches. They will come as soon as they are ready, and when they do, they will hit us hard. And they very likely believe that is enough.”
“You seem convinced of this, Tyler. May I ask why?”
“Because it very likely will be enough.”
Barron twitched slightly in his chair. His response had to be an uncomfortable one, but there was no time just then for diplomacy. But he immediately wished he’d been a little less direct. He was facing a desperate battle, but his new allies were defending their home planet. And he knew just how that felt.
“Our longtime enemies, the Union,” he continued, subtly changing the focus of his argument, “often allowed their numerical superiority to color their judgment, and…” He paused, almost stopping right there. “…and I believe my people would have lost the war against yours if the tactics employed had been more…” Barron’s voice trailed off, and he looked at Chronos. He wasn’t trying to offend his new comrade, but he was well aware they all needed everything they could get just then, every tactic, every insight into the enemy. And for all the heroism of his people, he did believe the Hegemony could have conquered the Rim if they’d shown more respect for the abilities of his own forces.
“If we hadn’t been so arrogant.” Chronos was staring back at Barron. The admiral wasn’t sure how the Hegemony commander had taken his comment, and he could feel himself tensing a bit inside. Diplomacy wasn’t his chosen profession, and he could almost hear some Confed ambassador scolding him for insulting an ally.
Then Chronos did the thing Barron expected least. He roared with laughter.
“This is no time for humor, I know,” he said after the initial burst, “but you are indeed a worthy ally, Tyler Barron. Skill, courage, endurance…they are all important, but nothing equals a comrade who can look you in the eye and tell you just how you have been a damned fool. And you are correct, of course, absolutely correct. My people were so certain of our superiority, technical, moral, numerical, we had no doubt of victory. We viewed your people with little more respect that we had planets full of radiation-mutated Defek…people, and we paid the price for that, did we not?” Barron had noted Chronos’s efforts on a number of occasions to curb the use of language that seemed harsh to Rim sensibilities, or that pointed out differences in Hegemony and Confederation ethical constraints. He wasn’t sure the Hegemony as a whole was ready to stop calling its radiation-damaged subjects as Defekts, but he also knew change often started in scattered bits.
“There is another consideration, as well, Tyler…one that perhaps fits your own direct and cold view of reality. Our resources are finite. With luck, we can complete the fortifications we have begun, but it is unlikely the enemy will give us time to bolster the defenses at all the transit tubes in the system. Put as I imagine you might say it, there is no point worrying about what we cannot change. We have agreed on the most likely axes of attack, and there is little to be gained by engaging in endless ‘what ifs.’ If the enemy does surprise us, we can at least expect some warning from our scouts. That won’t allow us to build fortifications, but we will be able to redeploy the fleets, at least.
“Admiral Barron…” The voice of the Kriegeri officer posted outside the room came through on the comm. The Hegemony personnel had been very stiff around him, even uncomfortable, but he was starting to notice that lessening. He wouldn’t say his former enemies were comfortable serving alongside his people, but there had been movement, at least. “…Admiral Stockton is here to see you.”
Barron instantly knew something was wrong. He’d gotten word that the task force had returned just before he’d gone into the meeting. But if Stockton was already outside, that ment he’d likely blasted his fighter back ahead of the fleet and landed at once, even that he’d come to find Barron without a moment’s rest or a shower. Without even going to see Stara Sinclair on Dauntless. He clearly had something important to report, something he wanted to tell Barron in person and not over a comm connection.
And Barron had come to understand that ‘important’ usually meant something very close to disastrous.
“Send him in, please, Hectoron.” Barron was still getting used to Hegemony ranks, just as he continued to lean heavily on politeness when giving a command to one of his allies. The alliance between the Rim nations and the Hegemony was still tenuous, and largely informal. Barron didn’t doubt the Kriegeri had been told to accept his orders, but he was just as aware they weren’t technically in his chain of command.
“Admiral—and Commander Chronos and Commander Ilius—I apologize for my attire.” Stockton wore a rumpled flight suit, and his hair was a wild, twisted mess. It was an inappropriate state in which to report to three superior officers, but all Barron could think of was how oblivious to that fact the young squadron commander he’d met so many years before would have been to that fact. Age and rank, and the crushing weight of responsibility, had dragged Stockton from his brash ways, but while Barron respected and understood the incredible abilities of the older, more experienced officer standing in front of him, he also missed the wild and eminently likable young rogue who’d driven him crazy on so many occasions. He saw something to mourn in the grimness of the officer standing in the room, and he lamented the reality that had forged the change, even as he recognized that the older Stockton was indispensable to him.
“That is of no concern, Admiral Stockton. Your insight is always valuable, and I would brook no delay in receiving it for foolishness like changing clothes.” Chronos had responded even before Barron could.
“Commander Chronos is right, Jake. Tell us what you found.” Barron was trying to hold back from making wild guesses, but the first glance at Stockton’s eyes told him the news was, indeed, bad.
“Sirs, as you know, I have been combining our scouting and delaying operations with an effort to expose our fighter squadrons to action against the enemy. We discovered something new on the mission to the Vigillius Nebula…actually, several new things. First, we engaged enemy ships of considerably greater tonnage than any encountered to date. The vessels were large, at least twice the size of a Repulse-class battleship like Dauntless.” Stockton paused, and the silence in the room testified to the shock and alarm his news unleashed.
“Perhaps that should not surprise us, after all, we had no reason to believe the Highborn lacked larger vessels.” Barron was trying to sound as confident as he could, but his mind was replaying his memories of the Highborn ships he had seen, that his people had fought. Those ships hadn’t been massive, not by the standards of ships of the line of the Rim and the Hegemony, but their weapons and technology had far outmatched those of his forces.
What kind of power will a giant battleship possess?
“I presume the task force captured significant scanner records of these vessels?” Chronos again. Barron hadn’t had the easiest time reading his ally at first, but he was getting better at it. And he was sure the Hegemony commander was thinkin
g very much the same thing he was.
“Yes, Commander…though, as you know, the enemy ships are highly resistant to scanner beams. My people would have captured significantly better data had we been able to close, but we were…compelled…to withdraw before entering launch range.”
Those last words struck Barron like a hammer. All the years he’d commanded Stockton, he’d worried about the officer being too reckless. If Jake Stockton had pulled his people out before even attempting a close in attack, and run for it in the face of a new enemy force…
It was the kind of thought that created nightmares.
“Was the point defense so severe you couldn’t penetrate and close?”
Stockton shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “In a manner of speaking, Admiral. The ships are not the only new item I have to report. They also possess a weapon, one that is highly effective against bomber attacks.” Stockton hesitated before continuing. “They are cluster missiles, Admiral, launched in massive waves. And each of them is a multiple warhead vehicle, separating into twenty separate missiles as they close.”
Barron was staring straight at Stockton. The Confederation had mostly stopped employing rockets and missiles half a century before. Point defense energy batteries had become too adept at picking off physical weapons approaching capital ships. But against fighters, devoid of a battleship’s massive defensive arrays? Still, fighters were much more maneuverable than line ships.
“We might have been able to evade them, Admiral, but they are capable of massive rates of acceleration.”
“Massive?”
“We tracked several units peaking at 167g.”
Barron felt as though he’d been gut punched. The Confederation had never developed an engine and power source that could achieve such enormous levels of thrust, and six years of desperate fighting against the Hegemony told him his new allies hadn’t either.
“Antimatter drives on missiles?”
“That can’t be the whole story, though.” Chronos had a thoughtful lok on hi face. “We, like you, stopped deploying missiles in most cases some time ago, but we had experimented with antimatter propulsion earlier. We were able to attain moderately higher rates of acceleration, but the primary benefit, as it is in our spaceships, was in range. A far smaller quantity of antimatter can power vastly longer than large quantities of conventional reaction mass. The problem with dramatically increasing thrust always came down to flow rates, and generating the needed force without vaporizing the engine, and even the entire vessel being propelled. We have been able to increase maximum acceleration rates marginally with antimatter propulsion, but nothing like what Admiral Stockton is reporting.” Chronos had been looking straight ahead, more or less at the wall, but then he turned toward Barron.
“There is an added benefit in a missile or other projectile weapon, of course, in that any remaining fuel will effectively add to the payload of the weapon, as it annihilates along with the primary charge. That is a tactical consideration we should remember. If these are indeed antimatter-powered missiles, their yields will be significantly higher at short ranges. I would think that presents a considerable problem, when our primary tactic for bomber assaults involves closing to point blank range. However deadly these weapons were to Admiral Stockton’s squadrons at long range, they will be even more so against wings that continue to close. Assuming the vessels can carry more than one barrage of the things.”
“They can. The lead ship launched a second attack. That is why I ordered the retreat. Another attack would have been literal suicide. Not a single ship would have survived.”
“You did the right thing, Jake.” Barron walked over and put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder. He’d been immersed in navy culture as long as he could remember, before even his days in military school and then at the Academy. He’d worshiped the Confederation’s heroes, listened endlessly to his grandfather’s tales of combat. But he wondered about the rationality of a mindset that made someone like Jake Stockton—not only not remotely a coward, but actually borderline insane in some of his exploits—to feel he had done something wrong pulling his survivors out. That choosing to save some of his people over pointlessly leading them to certain death was somehow a cowardly act.
Barron could see that Stockton was still struggling with himself. He understood…he’d been there, too. But he needed Stockton at his best.
“Jake, you have to know that…” That was as far as he got.
The comm unit buzzed, and a voice blared out. “Commander Chronos, central control is reporting that vessels from Scouting Command Nine have entered the system. They are transmitting their report even now. They encountered hostile contacts at Celestia, Commander. The enemy is at Celestia.”
Barron stood and listened, even as cold reality set in. He was no expert at Hegemony stellar geography, but he knew where the Celestia system was located, closer even than the Vigillius Nebula
Just three jumps from Calpharon.
Chapter Eight
Highborn Flagship S’Argevon
Imperial System GH9-27C1
Year of the Firstborn 385 (323 AC)
“I have just arrived, Grand Admiral. I would have requested an audience by the usual forms, but the messages I carry cannot wait.” The Highborn’s voice was arrogant, even as it was clear she was trying to control it in the presence of so powerful a figure as Tesserax. They were both of the Firstborn, of course, the title given to the first and original group of Highborn to come into being. She was almost four centuries of age, as were all of the Firstborn, Tesserax included. Their ranks were different, his perhaps the higher, save for the fact that she had been sent by the Supreme Leader himself, his holiness, Ellerax, and in a sense, she carried his words. And she had brought a stern warning for the commander of the forces in the old imperial sectors.
“I am at your disposal, Seliax. I await any words and counsel you have to offer.” It seemed that perhaps Tesserax was hiding his own resentment, and doing so with some degree of success. Seliax knew the admiral far too well, however, to imagine he welcomed her advice, or the communications she bore.
She didn’t care, either. If her communiques—and orders—upset the pompous admiral, then so be it.
“His holiness, Supreme Commander Ellerax is not pleased, Admiral. The return to imperial space, the long-awaited cleansing and reclamation of these ancient star systems, was instigated at your urging, and that of your allies at Supreme Command. The need for more thralls, and the benefit of integrating the extensive and varied DNA lines present in these sectors is clear, and yet, many on the Command Council wonder now, about the timing. It is said that you and your officers sought a chance to aggrandize yourselves with victory over the humans, that personal vanity rather than cold reason and strategy was behind the timing. Surely, the rimward systems of the old empire would eventually have been integrated into the Domain of the Highborn, and the humans broken to our will and given the chance to worship those who are gods among them. But was the timing appropriate? The new source of Thralls is necessary, certainly, but could it not have waited? The Domains face a far deadlier enemy than the humans, as you well know. Was it the fact that you have not been granted a command on the primary front that urged you to agitate for the invasion of the old empire, to create a leadership position for yourself? Worse, perhaps, you executed the initial attack so poorly that you were compelled to request frontline reinforcements. An operation to bolster our war effort with fresh Thralls has instead become a drain, diverting main battle units from the primary front. Your operation has hardly been crowned with success, Tesserax, and the Supreme Leader is concerned.”
She could see that Tesserax was seething, his arrogance and anger swirling into a toxic brew. But he was controlling himself, despite her best efforts to provoke him. That was good. Despite the harshness of her words, she was fond of Tesserax, and she possessed as much primitive affection for him as she did for anyone. But her instructions had been clear. She had come to test him. The
Highborn were highly advanced, a new race born to rule. But arrogance was endemic among its members, and it had caused problems more than once. No one expected Tesserax to be humble, nor to understate his own considerable abilities. But it was essential that he conduct his command with a level of cold reason and control.
“I maintain my position, Seliax, that it is precisely because of the primary threat, and the vast war on the coreward front, that our return to old imperial space could no longer be delayed. It was a grave error allowing a century to pass after our initial reconnaissance before committing to this operation. The humans are ours, by right and succession. They are our followers, our worshippers. They exist to serve the Domains, and to aid us in their own limited ways to assert dominance over the galaxy.”
“I am pleased to hear your words, Tesserax, as I am sure the Supreme Leader will be. He does not contest your belief that we need fresh Thralls to feed the true war effort, and there is little question that the cultivated specimens have underperformed and continue to decline in quality. The ranks must be replenished, and the survivors of rimward imperial space are likely to exhibit endurance and learning abilities well in excess of our farm-raised specimens.” She paused. “But, and I cannot state this clearly enough, you must complete your conquest with the forces currently at your disposal. The Supreme Leader has sent you the vessels you requested, but any additional transfer of forces would severely jeopardize our position on the primary front, and is out of question. Is that understood?”
“It is understood, Seliax. You may assure the Supreme Leader that I will see it done. The rimward and Far Rim sectors will be pacified, and the billions of humans inhabiting these many hundreds of worlds will learn to serve and to worship us as their pantheon of gods.”