Cauldron of Fire (Blood on the Stars Book 5)

by Jay Allan

  Rogan paused briefly. Then he nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Barron hesitated now, an uneasy look coming over his face. “Bryan, there is one more thing.”

  “Sir?”

  “I know your people will be spread thin as it is, but I need you to handle one more mission for me.”

  “Of course, Commodore.”

  “I don’t know where, not yet, but as soon as we secure control of the data storage systems, we should be able to find a location.”

  “A location, sir?”

  “Yes. As soon as our data people can identify the spot…I need you to send a team to rescue two Palatians. Your people are to find and safeguard Katrine Rigellus’s children. Imperator Vennius is concerned the Reds will kill them if it looks like they’re about to lose. And I…I promised him we would try to save them.”

  “Of course, Commodore.”

  “Thank you, Bryan. And be sure you include some Alliance troopers in that operation too. Otherwise your people might find themselves fighting Rigellus family retainers.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Barron looked across the table at Rogan. He knew how difficult the Palatia assault would be for the Marine and his people, and the losses they were likely to take. The challenges they would face fighting alongside the Alliance stormtroopers. And those stormtroopers won’t have the easiest time of it either…they’ll be fighting their former comrades as well as standing alongside old enemies…

  Barron took a deep breath. Then he tapped the controls on the edge of his desk, bringing up a series of maps on the built-in display. “Okay, let’s go over each of these objectives…”

  * * *

  “Jake…” Stara Sinclair stuck her head through the door.

  Stockton was sitting on his bunk, staring at the wall on the other side of the small cabin. He’d almost told the AI to send Stara away, but when it came to it, he just said, “Open.”

  The bunk was on the opposite wall from the door, but still no more than two meters away. Squadron leaders had private cabins, which was a luxury on any spaceship, but they were small, cramped. The strike force commander’s quarters were substantially plusher, but he wasn’t even close to ready to take Kyle Jamison’s cabin.

  “What?” He answered, his tone far harsher than he’d intended. He knew his grief, and his fatalism, were trying to force him to drive Stara away. He was angry with himself for the callousness, but despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to stop. He was trying to spare her, to protect her from the toxic creature he’d become. To save her from the grief at his all too likely death in the fight that lay ahead. But he knew it just came out as cruelty, and it added to his already-considerable self-loathing.

  “I know how much you’re hurting, Jake.” Stara Sinclair had a temper of her own, one Stockton had seen up close many times. She’d turned down his advances for more than a year, and during that time—and even after they’d gotten together—she let him have it whenever he gave her a hard time. But not now. Since Jamison’s death, she’d taken all he could dish out, and given him nothing but patience and affection in return. All he wanted was for her to leave him alone, to his misery and the dark thoughts that had taken control of him…and that was the one thing she wouldn’t give him. He knew he should be grateful, but the shadow inside him took control when he spoke, hurling hurtful remarks.

  “Stara, I’m just fine. Okay?” He spun around, sitting on the edge of the bed and banging his fist on the wall. “I know you mean well, but I just want to be alone. Please…just leave me be.” He felt the rage taking control again, and he tried to bite down, to leave it at what he’d said already, but to no avail. “Is that so much to ask, that you leave me the hell alone? I don’t need your concern, and I damned well don’t need your pity. Don’t you have enough to keep you busy? We’re going to lose at least half our fighters in the battles ahead of us. Maybe you could go get started on the, ‘I regret to inform you’ letters? I figure now that Barron’s a commodore, he might delegate that to the one who sends us all out there, who’s got all the screens to watch the pilots die.”

  Sinclair stared back at him, clearly struggling with her own emotions. He could see the anger, her impulsive response, and one he knew was well-deserved. But she held that back, and for a few seconds, all he could see was the pain in her face, the hurt he’d so skillfully inflicted. She pushed that aside too, and she stood there defiantly, the slight smile returning. “You’re not going to drive me away, Jake Stockton. I know you want to, and maybe I understand, at least a little, but I’m in this to stay. I’ll leave you alone now, but I’ll be here. When you’re ready to find your way back, my hand will be there to lead you.”

  She stood where she was for another few seconds, almost daring him to hurl another wave of invective at her. Then she turned around and walked back out into the corridor, the door closing behind her.

  Stockton leaned back, cursing himself for yet another round of self-indulgent and hurtful behavior. He was in a bad place, his rage at Jamison’s death and his burning need for revenge consuming him whole. But there was more, something else he struggled to admit, even to himself. He was scared.

  He’d never met an enemy as good as he was…perhaps even better. He knew he would go after his adversary, pursue the revenge for his oldest friend. But he didn’t know he’d get that vengeance, that he would win the battle. He was as likely to die as to succeed. Part of him was ready for that, but inside, where the Stockton who would never hurt Stara or shirk his command duties for a vendetta still lurked, he was terrified.

  It will be over soon…one way or another…

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  AFS Bellator

  Orbiting Planet Varena, Cilian System

  Year 62 (311 AC)

  “Welcome aboard, your Supremacy…” Brutus Egilius leapt out of his chair, gesturing for Vennius to take the command station. “I am honored that you have chosen to transfer your flag to Bellator.”

  “Where else would I go, Brutus? Your ship was the first to come to my aid, the first to rally to my cause. A man who forgets such things is not worthy of loyalty…and certainly has no right to expect warriors to die for him.” Vennius waved his arm. “Back to your station, Brutus. You have not only Bellator, but an entire wing to command. I am but an observer, who can sit as well at any station.”

  Vennius gestured again when his subordinate just stood where he was, and he watched as Egilius reluctantly returned to his seat. “I can have something brought to the bridge, something more…”

  “This seat here will be fine,” Vennius said, turning toward one of the spare stations. He walked over and sat down. “You have far more important things to worry about than my comfort. No doubt you’ve been monitoring the activity at the transit point. The battle we’ve been waiting for is almost upon us.”

  “Yes, sir. I have ordered all ships to hold their positions as directed.”

  Vennius nodded. He knew his people would want to rush forward to meet the enemy as they came through, taking advantage of the short time before transiting ships regained control of their systems. That would be the correct strategy—if he planned to fight to the finish. But he didn’t want to meet the enemy at the transit point. He wanted them deep in-system, their courses right for Sentinel-2, their velocities as high as possible. Once the enemy was committed, he could execute his escape…and get the head start he needed before the enemy figured out what he was doing.

  He turned and looked at the display, at the large blue oval representing Sentinel-2. The battle station had served him well, its massive defenses crucial to the survival of his cause in the early months of the war. But now he was abandoning it. He’d hesitated before boarding the shuttle, and he’d looked back over the bay, at the skeleton crew he was leaving behind. They were volunteers, every one of them, but that didn’t make it easier to leave them. He told himself many of them would escape—the flight crews, for example, would board shuttles and escape pods as soon
as they launched Sentinel’s contingent of fighters. His commands had been clear…everyone whose presence was not absolutely vital to the battle underway was to evacuate. But climbing into a shuttle and making it across a war zone to one of the retreating battleships were two entirely different things. And he knew Calavius well enough to realize there would be no prisoners in this fight. His crews caught in unarmed shuttles and pods would be blasted out of existence.

  He looked around the bridge, watching the cool efficiency of Bellator’s crew. Egilius had created one of the most efficient and capable teams in the fleet, and they’d proven that again and again.

  The lift doors opened, and a tall man walked in, wearing the uniform of a Commander-Princeps. “Your Supremacy,” he said, snapping to attention as he did.

  “Ah, Jarus, thank you for coming.” Vennius turned and looked over at Egilius. “I am going to use your office, Brutus.”

  “Certainly, Your Supremacy. I will see you are not disturbed.”

  Vennius stood up and gestured toward the back of the bridge. “Let us speak privately, Jarus.”

  “Of course, Your Supremacy. Your word is my command.”

  The two men walked to the end of the bridge, a single hatch sliding to the side as they approached. When they had both entered the room and the door had closed, Vennius gestured toward a chair and said, “I appreciate your loyalty, Jarus, and I do not doubt your obedience, but this is not something I can order you to do. At least it is not something I will order. I only ask for your help.”

  “How can I serve you, Your Supremacy?”

  “There is a pilot on the Red side, apparently now in some position of considerable command authority. The descriptions, of her tactics, her flying style—many things—that have reached my ears remind me of someone important to me, someone who blames me for the death of her closest friend. A warrior who should, by all rights, be serving alongside us, but who, it appears, has instead declared for the Reds. I suspected she held me responsible for Kat’s death, but I had not realized the depth of her anger…her hatred.”

  Jarus nodded slowly. “Jovi.” His voice was mostly devoid of emotion, but Vennius caught a hint of concern, perhaps even affection.

  “Yes.”

  “We do not have…or I should say, we did not have much contact, Your Supremacy. Only when she came to visit our son, Jarus, and I’m afraid certain members of my family made it difficult for her to visit frequently.”

  “Yes, I know the match was not a favorable one for you. I believe Kat Rigellus exerted considerable pressure to arrange it.”

  “Yes, she did.” He paused for a few seconds, and when he continued, his voice was softer. “My coupling with Jovi canceled a longstanding honor debt between our families.” Another pause. “My father and brother were horrified, though they had little choice but to agree. It never bothered me, though, certainly not like it did them. Jovi and I…enjoyed each other’s company. Despite her grandfather’s disgrace, her DNA profile was highly favorable, and our son…he is a good boy, Your Supremacy, smart and strong. One day he will be a fine warrior.”

  “Of that I have no doubt, Jarus.” Vennius hesitated now, struggling with old pain. “You know Kat Rigellus was like a daughter to me. I curse myself for not doing more to save her, but I did not see her defeat as likely when I executed the orders for her to probe the Confederation’s border. I didn’t relish the thought of war with the Confeds, but I never imagined whatever force they could quickly deploy to the frontier could destroy Invictus. The orders didn’t come from me…they came from the Council, and from the Imperatrix herself. It was ill-conceived, certainly, but no one betrayed Kat, nor sent her knowingly to her death. Yet, I fear that is precisely what Jovi believes.”

  “She was devoted to Katrine, Your Supremacy, as I’m sure you know. Everything she attained in life, she owed to opportunities Katrine provided her.”

  “Yes, I know. I understand her need for vengeance, but while I will never forgive myself for Kat’s death, her rage is ill-directed. She has sworn herself to a traitor, one we must destroy.” Another pause. “I fear that she will die in the fighting before this war ends. And I would save her if I could.”

  “I would save her also, Your Supremacy. What can I do to help?”

  “When the fighting starts in earnest, our scanner teams will try to identify her fighter. From the previous reports, it is clear she will be leading some or all of the Red squadrons. If…when…we find her, we will establish a direct comm line, using the full power of the Sentinel-2 nexus. I would speak to her, but she is so enraged at me, I fear she would not listen. But perhaps if it is you…” He paused, looking for a moment, very much like a lost old man. “Try to explain to her, tell her no one is as distraught as I at Kat’s death. It may be a hopeless effort, but do all you can to convince her she has made the wrong choice.”

  “I will try, Your Supremacy. I will do it for you, of course, but I would also save Jovi if I can. She is my son’s mother…and I retain some affection for her. My family has treated her badly, and I would make that right if I can.” He paused, a troubled look on his face. “But, she is infuriatingly stubborn. If she has sworn to the Red cause, it will be very difficult to get her to switch sides.”

  “I am well aware, Jarus. She is more like Kat in that way than she probably imagines. But if we cannot persuade her, we will likely have to kill her.” Vennius was silent for a moment. “I failed Kat, five years ago…I do not wish to fail her again. I want to save Jovi Grachus if there is any way to do so, because she is a worthy officer and an honorable Palatian. But more than that…I would save her for Kat. Just perhaps, I can avoid letting her down again.”

  Jarus stood silently for a moment, looking back at Vennius. Then he said, “I will do my best, Your Supremacy…for you, of course, and also for Jovi. I, too, would see her saved.”

  “Thank you, Jarus. I would spare myself yet another ghost haunting my sleep.”

  * * *

  “Let the attack begin.” Calavius was well into his address to the fleet. He spoke loudly, his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber he’d turned into a makeshift throne room. “And let it not stop until the traitors are vanquished, until every man or woman who has risen in arms against the legitimate government of the Alliance is dead. We shall take no prisoners, accept no surrenders, show no quarter. Go now, my warriors, and see it done. And from the broken wreckage of Sentinel-2 we shall build the future.”

  Calavius nodded to the communications officer, a signal to cut the line. He’d spoken for just over three minutes, his words broadcast to every ship in the fleet. He hadn’t written the speech, but he knew he’d delivered it well, an Imperator’s charge to his warriors, the men and women who would now secure his rule. Many would die, he knew—such was the cost of war—but as he looked at the display, at the ragged line of ships in front of Sentinel-2, outnumbered more than three to one by his own vessels, he almost felt sorry for his old friend.

  I have you now, Vennius. You placed your trust in the Confeds, and they abandoned you when things became difficult…

  He hadn’t been surprised when he’d been advised that the Confederation forces had departed. The Confeds had a massive economy, and that gave them strength. But they were shopkeepers, builders, and traders…not warriors.

  He had been cautious, his earlier defeats still fresh in his mind. He’d pulled together every ship he could, stripping even Palatia’s defenses to build an invincible fleet, one that could overcome even Vennius’s skill in battle. He could take no chances now. He would take none. He was committing all, and on the massive screen he’d had installed on the wall, he saw the overwhelming numbers he had led to this place…to win an empire.

  Goodbye, Vennius. I am sorry you could not just swear faith to me. We could have done great things together…but instead, you will die as a traitor…

  * * *

  “Your Supremacy…I’m getting a report of unauthorized comm usage. Somewhere on deck twenty-three.”<
br />
  Vennius had been sitting in Egilius’s office since his meeting with Jarus. He didn’t know if the officer’s efforts would work…in fact, he thought it more likely they wouldn’t. But he had to try. The thought of watching his people gun down Kat’s closest friend was difficult to endure, even for a warrior who had seen so much death and suffering.

  “Shut down all external comm at once! Do you have the source localized?” He leapt up from his chair, moving toward the door.

  “Not yet, Your Supremacy. We’re working on it now.”

  Vennius slipped through the door and out onto Bellator’s bridge. “Have you confirmed it is not normal housekeeping traffic?” He raised his voice so it would carry across the bridge as he walked toward Egilius’s chair.

  “Yes, sir. It is nothing I have authorized, nor anyone in the command structure. All non-essential comm is restricted now, per your order.”

  Vennius had done all he could to tighten control over communications since he’d released Tulus. The officer had told him the same story he’d told Barron. He’d even had pictures, of the children and their mother. Vennius suspected he would have been appalled at the breach of the vaunted “way” when he was younger, but all he felt now was empathy for his longtime friend, and the family he had struggled to protect. Most importantly, he believed Tulus. Completely. There was no conclusive evidence to prove what the officer claimed, but Vennius had always been a man who trusted his judgment. Still, his release created a dangerous problem. If Tulus was innocent, that meant the traitor was still out there. Every earlier attempt to tighten security had failed to stop the devastating leaks, without a trace of the treacherous party. Perhaps until now.

  “Get security down there, now. Close off deck twenty-three. Seal all compartments.” If it was the traitor, if he had finally caught whoever was responsible in the act, Vennius had no intention of allowing his enemy to escape.