by Jay Allan
Barron’s eyes moved toward the massive 3D display in the center of Dauntless’s bridge, struck for a few seconds by the size of the grand armada he led. The fleet included ships from more than a dozen nations, though the core of it remained his own veteran Confederation spacers and the grim warriors of Palatia, led forward by no less than their Imperator himself. It was nearly all the strength the Rim could muster, save only for the Union forces beyond those in Andrei Denisov’s fleet, and those of the principalities out on the Periphery, on the far side of Union space.
All the strength we can muster…and yet, very possibly not enough. Barron was again stunned at the immense size and power of the Hegemony, and at just how wrong legends and presumed facts had been about the supposed dead regions of space lying beyond the Badlands. We thought ourselves unique, the only ones who’d survived. Now, we pay the price for that hubris.
He almost turned toward Atara again, but he stopped himself. Despite her odd position, ship’s captain and admiral’s aide, she’d done a remarkable job of handling all her responsibilities. Barron knew she was checking on Dauntless’s status, preparing her battleship for the coming fight. He might be the fleet admiral, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t connect his own comm channels.
“Jake…”
“Yes, Admiral.”
Barron was struck again by how much had changed in Stockton’s tone. The brash, cocky young officer he’d known, who had sometimes pushed him to the limits of his tolerance, was gone forever, replaced by a grim warrior, a coldly focused leader. Stockton had been battered by war and loss and forged into perhaps the greatest killing machine that had ever existed…or at least the most dangerous to Hegemony warships. The fleet carried 5,842 fighter-bombers with it, and every one of them was under Stockton’s command. They were the complements of every battleship and escort carrier the nations of the Grand Alliance possessed, reinforced with squadrons stripped from Craydon’s fixed defenses and crammed into overloaded bays. There were deadly aces, and green rookies who’d never flown their ships outside an Academy exercise…and all manner of pilots in between.
Barron didn’t dare let himself imagine how many of them would die in the coming fight, even if the attack on Megara was successful.
“I want your people ready to launch as soon as we transit. If the enemy is deployed back from the point, we’ll hold your wings in the bays, and get you farther in system, but if they’re going to defend the point, we’ll need your people out there and going at their forward battleships as quickly as possible.”
“Understood, Admiral. Dauntless is somewhat back in the transit order, but Alicia Covington in in Warspite, almost at the head of the first battleship column. With your permission, I will give her authorization to launch all available squadrons if she detects enemy capital ships in range of the point.”
“Yes, Jake…definitely. Do that. Captain Covington isn’t easily unnerved. She won’t launch unless there’s reason to…and if there are enemy ships waiting for us, she’ll hit them that much sooner, and you can get the rest of your people out in support as the balance of the fleet transits.”
Barron didn’t like flying right into Olyus without any real intel on the enemy fleet dispositions, but he’d decided it wasn’t worth the risk to send scouts, or even drones through before the fleet. The enemy would have the point’s terminus surrounded with scanners and detection gear, and even with if he sent through ships with the last of the stealth units, he couldn’t be sure they would make it undetected.
But you sent Andi through…
There had been pickets positioned in the system, of course, watching for anything approaching Olyus, but Barron had sent fast attack cruisers through first. The Hegemony ships had been badly positioned, too deep in the system to escape and bring back the alert…at least he was pretty sure his people had gotten them all in time.
With any luck, his fleet’s entry into Olyus would take the Hegemony forces by surprise…and then it would be a toe to toe slugging match, a brutal and vicious fight to the end.
“Jake…one more thing, old friend. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you, sir. And to you as well…and all of us.”
Barron nodded his head.
To all of us…
* * *
“Good luck, everybody, and remember, all blasts are to be synchronized. We’re…” Rogan looked at the chronometer on his wrist. “…exactly fifty-five minutes from the designated time. That doesn’t leave any room for delay.” Rogan had deliberately left the timing tight. It didn’t leave room for error or unforeseen problems, but too much time could have been even worse. His Marines just might be able to take the enemy by surprise, and take possession of the targets…but there was no way they could hold them, not once the Kriegeri realized what was going on. The enemy forces sent to retake the positions would outnumber his people twenty to one, at least.
But, if his people came through, if they were able to execute the operation according to plan and do it quickly enough, there would be no positions left to retake.
“Understood, General.”
“Yes, sir…and good luck to you as well.”
“We’ll see it done, General.”
Rogan listened as his senior officers responded. He had six groups moving out. He was leading the largest, the strike force that would hit the main comm center. The other five would target power stations, and auxiliary communications facilities. If the whole thing went as planned, the Hegemony leadership on the ground would be cut off from the orbital stations, and by extension, from the massive fleet in the system. They would restore at least some of their communication, he knew, probably reasonably quickly, so if the fleet had fallen off schedule, his Marines’ efforts would be wasted.
It was a gamble in other ways, too. The total effect of the raid would depend largely on which Hegemony commanders were on the ground, and which ones happened to be with the fleet or at one of the fortresses. Rogan couldn’t know for sure, but his best guess was, Hegemony operations would be badly disrupted, for at least half a day, and perhaps longer.
But whatever happened, however much good the attack did…it was all his people could do. He didn’t know if any of them would escape, and for how long any who did would manage to hide could hold out. Some of them might make it back to the ancient tubes, or the ruins…but he was almost certain the days of his force as an operating formation would end in less than an hour.
“Professor…I suggest you go back to the tubes, and either get to someplace where you can get into the city and try to slip back into the population…or at least go back to the main base. There is food there, and supplies. You can probably stay there for…”
“No, General. I am no Marine, but I made my choice. I rallied to your side and did what I could, as a Megaran, and as a patriot. I’m afraid I am well past the time I could slip back into my old life without discovery…and I have no desire to return to the base without the rest of you. I am not a fighter, as your people are, General, but I daresay, after a year with all of you, I think I can at least stay out of the way, and perhaps even help to some extent.”
Rogan considered arguing, insisting Carlson go back. But the professor was right. He’d made his choice, and he’d served Megara—and the Marines—well. He had a right to his place with them, and Bryan Rogan wouldn’t take it from him.
“Very well, Professor. But stay close to me, okay?”
Carlson nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“And, Professor…you are a fighter, more than you know. I have seen many, and none I’ve known would hesitate to accept you at their sides. You are a Marine, too, in your heart, one of us through the hardships of the last year, and one of us right now.”
Carlson nodded, clearly affected by Rogan’s words. He turned, stopping halfway to say, “I will be waiting over there with the others, General.” Then he walked away, leaving Rogan with his second in command.
“I wish we could go in together, Dan…but I need you to take out that
secondary station. If the raids on the power units fail, we’ll still have knocked out most of their comm capacity, at least for a while. But if the backups survive, they’ll just cut back to the most important command traffic…and we’ll have lost most of our gains.”
“Understood, General.” A pause. “I know how important this is, Bryan. You worry about the main facility. I’ll take out the secondary…whatever I have to do.”
Rogan extended his hand. “I know you will, Dan.”
Prentice reached out and the two men shook. It was a gesture of good will, a wish from each for fortune to smile on the other.
And, if need be, it was a goodbye, between two comrades, two friends…who both knew they were likely never to meet again.
* * *
“We’ve got a drone emerging from the point, Admiral.”
Barron’s eyes darted to the display. He’d held back any scouting efforts before the fleet began transiting, for fear of alerting the enemy sooner than he had to, but of course, that was no impediment to the units that had already emerged in Olyus sending back reports.
Barron hadn’t expressly ordered any such communiques, mostly because he didn’t want the commanders of his lead ships distracted. They would likely face at least some kind of fight just after transit, and he wanted their eyes and ears and minds focused totally on the tactical situation.
But the appearance of the drone suggested there was something the advanced guard’s commander thought was important.
And that advanced guard was under Admiral Sara Eaton, Barron’s longtime comrade. The two had fought many battles together, and anything Eaton wanted to tell him, he knew he needed to hear.
“Admiral, the drone reports that the enemy had a division of battleships positioned in defense of the transit point. Admiral Eaton’s battle line is under fire from the enemy railguns, but she has launched all bombers, and they will be hitting the enemy capital ships any moment.”
Barron nodded. It wasn’t far from what he’d expected, but the thoughts of Eaton and her battleships getting torn to scrap by Hegemony railguns before the main battle had even begun was hard to endure.
At least she’s got the enhanced primaries…that should be a surprise to those bastards. They probably think they’re out of range…
Barron was troubled by the viciousness of his thoughts, the primal way his mind celebrated at the thought of Hegemony ships hit by the heavy guns, Hegemony spacers killed by the unexpected fire. But it only lasted a few seconds. He didn’t care anymore. He was what he was, and his job was to destroy the enemy. That meant killing their people.
As many as he could. Any way he could.
“Admiral, we’re getting a new comm signal from the transit point…the Volzen point.” Barron heard the words, but it took an instant to settle in. The Volzen point wasn’t on the line back to Craydon. It led out toward Ulion and beyond, to Dannith and the Badlands.
There was only one force operating there, at least only one close enough to send a message.
“I want that communique on my headset, Atara…the instant it is decoded.” The message had to be from Captain Eaton…the other Eaton, Sonya. The one he’d sent out to harass enemy shipping, and to distract the enemy from any expectations of the assault the fleet he was even then launching.
But none of that called for a report, not now, and that meant something was wrong. Barron took anything either Eaton sister told him with deadly seriousness.
“On your line, Admiral.” Atara gestured toward Barron as she spoke, and an instant later, Sonya Eaton’s voice poured into his ears.
“We have encountered an enemy convoy, Admiral, one accompanied by a significant contingent of warships.” Barron felt his heartrate soar. What was ‘significant?’ “I have attached as detailed an OB as I’ve been able to assemble, sir, but in short, there are twenty battleships, all of the larger classes, along with cruisers and escorts.” Barron heard the words, and even as he did, his hopes faded. Those ships would be coming in behind his fleet, at least once it had all transited into Olyus. It was a disaster, just about as devastating a development as possible…and he didn’t know what to do about it. Could he even call back the advance guard?
No…there is no way. They’ve launched fighters already. It would take them too long.
He shook his head. No, we can’t stop…the way is forward.
“My forces have engaged the enemy forces, Admiral. We have launched several raids, and I have managed to keep my ships ahead of the enemy. As I send this, we are in the Venga system, and I am about to launch another bomber strike. We have managed to damage several battleships, and we will keep attacking in an effort to slow down the convoy, to hold them back until the battle at Megara is won.”
My God…she is attacking twenty battleships with her eight tin cans and as many escorts.
No, seven escorts. She sent one here with her report.
It was insane, an impossible mission, one that would likely cost Eaton and every spacer serving her their lives.
And, it was just what she’d expect from Eaton…from either Eaton.
“Atara…the fleet is to decrease segments between jumps. Our time schedule just got tighter. We need to get this fleet through, and we need to hit the enemy. Hard and fast.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bridge
CFS Hermes
Olyus System
Year 320 AC
The Second Battle of Megara – “Up now, and to arms!”
“I don’t know, Andi. I’m just not sure I can pull it off. It’s pretty dicey, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll be wide open.” Lex Righter sounded more than tense. The engineer was clearly on the edge.
Anyone sane is on the edge right now…
Hermes’s reactor was still functioning, barely. It had almost failed twice, both times salvaged by Righter’s engineering skills, literally with seconds to spare. Whoever was commanding the ships hunting Hermes was no joke. It was a skilled and capable officer out there, and as stubborn as they came. That much was clear, and Andi knew the life expectancy of her people would be measured in minutes from the instant the reactor failed, and the stealth unit went down.
“Lex, old friend…I know it’s a longshot. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but there’s no other way. Not unless you can keep Hermes’s reactor operating for at least three more days.” Andi had been watching the ships emerge into the system for the past ten minutes or so. She didn’t have a lot of data coming in from the passive scans, not at such extensive range, but she could see enough. The fleet had arrived. But, even if she allowed herself the optimism of hoping for victory, the fight would almost certainly last for days. And, if the stealth unit failed before the enemy was defeated and driven out of the system, that meant almost instant death for her people.
“Three days? That’s not even possible. I’d bet we’ve got four hours, Andi, maybe six…twelve would be a damned miracle. Honestly, I’m surprised we’ve been able to keep the thing running this long.”
“Then do what I say, Lex. What damned difference does it make if the thing goes now or in six hours. What do you think is going to change in that time?”
There was a long silence on the comm unit.
“Lex…you know I believe in you. I always have…but now I’m counting on you to hold it together, and to give me the best you’ve got. That’s all I can ask of anyone.” She’d always tried to give her engineer a little extra support in tense moments. Righter had shown his weakness and addictions before, and while she had faith in him, the last thing she needed was him losing it on her just then. It wasn’t like he was likely to find a drink or a hit of something down in Hermes’s engineering section, but she needed him sharp, crisp. She needed every bit of skill he had, and a good helping of luck thrown in. She had a plan, one she thought just might work.
Just might save her people.
But it all relied on Righter, and any slip up, however small or seemingly insignificant, would be fatal. She needed hi
m at his best, which was a lot to ask, since she doubted any of her people were at peak efficiency just then. They’d been hunted relentlessly for days, and she imagined few of them had any real hope of escaping. The emergence of the fleet had boosted morale, briefly at least, but she didn’t expect it to last.
“Lex! I need you now. I’ve been there for you, always. You have to focus, and you have to get this done, somehow. If you won’t do it for Hermes or for the Confederation or for yourself…do it for me. Do it for the person who pulled your sorry ass off the floor in a foul Spacer’s District dive so many years ago, and helped you make something of yourself.” Her voice was raw, the hard edge designed to slice through her friend’s fear and self-doubt.
There was a silence, and though it felt long to her, she guessed it was only a few seconds. “Okay, Andi…I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything…I’m really not sure I can do it.”
“Just do your best, Lex.”
And if that’s not good enough, we all die…
* * *
“All wings, maintain formation, on my vector.” Jake Stockton was back in the cockpit of his Lightning. Where be belonged, at least in many ways.
Where it sometimes felt he’d been born.
The Confederation had seen many aces in its history, grim and deadly pilots who’d blazed trails to glory, and more often than not, had eventually met their matches in combat, or at least lost their good fortune in one fateful battle. But Stockton had developed a reputation as unbeatable, indestructible. He knew it was nonsense, and he’d resisted it at first, but as the war against the Hegemony continued, he’d become more inclined to use it, to make himself the center of the fight, to drive the fear from his pilots.