by Nick Cole
A half second later the Audacity executed an uncontrolled jump with only a partial solution. This was generally considered a fatal proposition, never to be undertaken unless the circumstances were incredibly dire.
But what other choice was there?
House of Reason
Utopion
Orrin Kaar waited for Admiral Devers’s return call. The admiral’s aide had assured Kaar that he would retrieve Devers from the bridge within ten minutes.
Under normal circumstances, Kaar would have refused to even speak with any but his principal players in this intrigue. But the entirety of the Third Fleet was loyal to Devers, every officer appointed, every enlisted man’s loyalty unwaveringly certain. They would provide the backbone of the New Republic.
And Kaar would be its head.
The comm chimed, and Devers came online. “Delegate Kaar—”
“I was somewhat alarmed to hear that the initial attacks went so poorly,” Kaar said. In truth, the delegate was irate. Devers and Sullus had both the initiative and the element of surprise, yet the forwarded communications had shown an ineffective opening assault.
“My ship’s attack on the defense fleet is going well,” Devers replied. “Hyperdrives were targeted first, and battle projections indicate destruction within moments. Sullus’s fighter and bomber squadrons were torn apart by the base defense systems.”
“Surely at least one bombing run was successful?” Kaar asked. “Has the main gun been disabled?”
Devers looked around his room, as if looking for answers. “No one is sure. All ships are staying out of range until Omicron is captured. A total ground assault is planned.”
Kaar contemplated this. A ground assault against a company of entrenched legionnaires was no easy feat. The cost of men and materiel could be staggering. And if the kill team was not called off—if they destroyed the shipyard…
“Silas, I spoke with Legion Commander Keller. A kill team is en route to destroy the shipyards on Tarrago Prime. This… must not happen.”
Devers smiled. “It won’t. I’ll tell Goth Sullus of the plans personally. Between my destruction of the defense fleet and news of the kill team… things will unfold as you’ve planned, Delegate Kaar.”
Kaar felt nowhere near as sure of this as he had before the day began.
Levenir Orbit
The Galactic Core
Admiral.
The ultra-encrypted transmission Cade Thrane had just decompressed and partially decoded definitely said “admiral.” Either that or “I’ll borrow.” The quality was… not ideal. It was like listening to someone speak while clearing phlegm from their throat three rooms away.
But the slicer could hear something. And “admiral” made the most sense. Who else but the Republic military have such sophisticated comm encryption? And why else would all transmissions involve Utopion?
Thrane looked to a crudely drawn map of the galaxy he’d scribbled on his lightboard. The transmissions were all either to or from the Republic capital. On at least two occasions, they went to a backwater planet at galaxy’s edge, but most of the time they traveled between Utopion and the Tarrago system. And that was intriguing. Because Tarrago was—somehow—down. Comm relays weren’t working in that sector. The Republic claimed that such a thing wasn’t possible—but that was probably just Republic propaganda. Thrane could think of at least five theoretical ways to shut down a comm relay system at the sector level.
Another UE burst, this time inbound to Utopion, crackled through.
“All right, back at it,” Thrane muttered, entering new decryptor keys into his datapad. “I can hear your voice, now let’s see if I can get you to speak more clearly…”
PART II
06
Eastern Gun Bore
Fortress Omicron
0302 Local System Time
Still several kilometers off, the HK-PP mechs lumbered toward the eastern defense wall of Fortress Omicron. Behind them moved heavy main battle tanks, with swift-moving combat sleds in the rear.
“Oba.” The legionnaire captain lowered his field macros and prepared to call in his findings to the heart of the fortress, deep inside the moon. That was something a lot of people didn’t understand. They saw the four defense walls, one erected just behind each of the massive gun bores, and assumed that Fortress Omicron was actually Fortresses Omicron. But the walls were merely firing positions, observation posts, and a last line of defense to prevent any would-be ground attackers from reaching the true heart of Fortress Omicron—its underground complex.
“This is Outlaw One for Omicron Command.”
“Go ahead, Outlaw One.”
The captain licked his lips and transmitted the macro recordings his bucket captured. “I’m sending in visuals on several HK-PP mechs, MBTs, and combat sleds. Estimated time to arrival is twenty standard minutes.”
There was a pause, probably just long enough for eyes in the command room to verify what the captain was saying.
“Confirmed, Outlaw One. Prepare your men to defend the eastern wall.”
“Copy. Outlaw One, out.”
This was it. Whoever was attacking Tarrago Moon was looking to finish the job. The air attacks had failed, with virtually no bombers getting their payloads off before getting dusted. A ground force assault launched away from the anti-air emplacements was the only move left. Well, other than orbital bombardment. But no one would be dumb enough to get close enough to the big gun to try something like that.
Mechs, tanks, and combat sleds. The same armored elements that Outlaw One had served alongside during his tours at galaxy’s edge. And now they were coming for him and his men.
Civil war. That’s what this was. What else could it be? And why not? The entire galaxy had been at war with the Republic ever since the Savage Wars. It was about time for the Republic to finally go to war with itself. And Outlaw One knew where he stood.
With the Legion.
Black Fleet Assault Force Scythe
Tarrago Moon
0305 Local System Time
The sergeant found it humorous that his first major piece of action as a shock trooper would be sitting inside a combat sled. He’d spent countless hours inside the vehicles while serving in the Legion. Could still handle a sled assault with his eyes closed. And he knew the men in his squad were very much the same.
Some of them, like him, had walked away from the Legion. Lifers who realized that the way things were going, there wasn’t a life to be had in what the Legion had become. At least, not a long one. Others had been forced out. Dishonorable discharges. A lot of them, probably, unjustified. Just another legionnaire sacrificed for the sake of a clueless point. The sergeant had seen it himself. Had lived it himself.
Each new point forced upon the Legion was like a single drip of water landing on a slab of sandstone. Eventually it made an impression. Split stone, carved canyons where cliffs once stood. That was the Legion now. Hopelessly eroded by the Republic and its system of appointing unqualified men for the sake of politics.
The sergeant smiled to himself. Everybody ever run out of the Legion blamed it on a point. It was like prison—no one was ever guilty. But the sergeant knew better. Some of the men serving as Goth Sullus’s shock troopers possessed training unsuited to their temperaments. Killers looking for a killing field. These types would actually flock to the points. They’d serve as the remorseless muscle for the points’ clueless decisions. And in exchange, the points would look the other way when the bad times started. Maybe even join in.
But not in this army. The sergeant loved the Legion, and he’d be damned before he’d let the shock troopers become anything less than the true Legion. He was fighting his brothers to save his brothers. Because sometimes, in a family, you gotta fight just to show how much you care.
The sergeant cared deeply.
The Black Fleet combat sled chimed, and the image of General Nero came online.
“Shock troopers!” Nero bellowed. “Now is the moment of y
our victory. You are trained and equipped to do what must be done. Take Fortress Omicron, and pave the way for the Black Fleet to conquer the Tarrago system—and then the very Republic itself.” Nero held out his arms. “Death to the Republic!”
No one in the sled echoed the call. They never did. None except the true believers, and this sled didn’t have any of them. The sergeant had made sure of that.
The comm burst ended, and the sergeant stood from his jump seat. “You guys think the general’s real name is Nero? Who does that? Who names themselves after an insane Ancient One?”
Nervous laughter sounded among the shock troopers. Good. The pucker factor would come soon enough. May as well enjoy life while you have it.
“Listen. Nero—he’s right about you all. You’re professionals. Former Legion. You know what we’re going up against, and you know what we have at our disposal. We go in hard, and we KTF.”
A shock trooper raised his head. His bucket was still on. All shock trooper buckets were required to remain on whenever the soldiers weren’t in their barracks. “Sarge, we have general orders not to use the Legion expressions.”
“Screw that,” the sergeant answered. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m here because of the Legion. I realized a while ago that the gangrene of the Republic needs to be removed. You can’t amputate without a sword, and we’re the sword that will save the Legion’s life.”
This was an impromptu speech. A speech, the sergeant knew, that could get him court-martialed if word of it left the combat sled. The officer corps of the Black Fleet wanted loyalty to Command. But although they were light years more capable than the points stinking up the Legion, the sergeant believed that the true legionnaire officers still had the advantage when it came right down to it. Black Fleet officers were tactically smart, but fearful. Afraid of the man in black.
“So I’ll say it again,” the sergeant continued, raising his arms as if he were pumping up a crowd. “KTF?”
“KTF!” shouted the shock troopers.
“Ooah!” The sergeant paced down the middle of the combat sled. “Now listen, we know what we’re facing. Leejes don’t go down without a fight. But this moon is protected by a single company. They’ll be dug in like a nix, but that’s two hundred leejes against two thousand shock troopers. That’s textbook. HK-PP’s gonna blow us a hole in the wall, we’re gonna speed inside and dismount, MBTs are going to take out the defense systems, and then we good.”
A shock trooper raised his hand. “What’s the word on taking prisoners?”
The sergeant had thought long and hard about this. Thankfully, his lieutenant was of the same mind as him, and Command hadn’t said anything to the contrary. “If it’s a leej, treat ’em with respect and take ’em alive. We take Tarrago Prime, give Goth Sullus—”
There was a murmur at the use of the supreme commander’s name.
“Yeah, I said it,” the sergeant boasted. “Goth. Sullus. Ain’t no thing. Anyway, when he starts cranking out the ships—because why else take over a shipyard?—and we start spreading the news that the Legion is alive with us, I’m telling you… they’re all flipping sides. We took an oath to protect the Republic from enemies foreign and domestic. We’ve dusted plenty of foreign threats. Now we end the domestic, criminal reign of the House of Reason and Senate.”
To this, there were no objections inside the sergeant’s combat sled.
Command Center
Fortress Omicron
0314 Local System Time
“Could it be a feint?” asked the company commander’s staff major. He pointed to the line of HK-PP mechs marching their way to contact on the eastern wall. Mechs that were still coming.
Commander Yoon, in charge of the entirety of Hotel Company, 80th Legion, studied the holo before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so, Major. And I’ll tell you why. That fleet out there, minus the Republic destroyers fighting it out between us and Tarrago Prime, has one approach vector. They have purposefully avoided getting close enough for us to use the main gun. Their bomber raids resulted in superficial damage to us and heavy losses for them.”
Yoon waved his hand at the holodisplay, causing it to zoom out and show a real-time three-dimensional plotting of the moon and the three battleships, just out of gun range. A series of red arrows pushed outward from the ships and toward the planet.
“This is the most direct route for drop shuttles to deliver mechanized infantry and support vehicles.”
The holodisplay’s AI followed Commander Yoon’s words, its processors showing what it imagined would best complement the briefing being given. The arrows impacted on the moon’s surface, and the POV rotated to show a possible landing zone.
“From here they have two options: move toward the east wall and gun bore—approximately a sixty-minute drive—or attempt to traverse to the western wall. This moon is small, but that trip would still take nearly four hours, giving us ample time to prepare defenses.”
“So the fight is at the east wall?” the major asked.
“I’m sure of it,” Yoon answered. “If they had the resources to send in more than what’s already down here, they’d drop right on our heads. This is the best punch they’ve got, and they can’t afford to lose it by getting in close to our anti-air defenses.”
“Shall I reinforce the eastern wall?”
Yoon nodded. “I want each wall to send me one hundred legionnaires. That will give the eastern wall five hundred men. That should be enough to keep what’s coming at bay. We only need to hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive from the Seventh Fleet. Or for them to do something stupid and get a taste of our big gun.”
“We should be so lucky.” The major paused. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Commander Yoon nodded.
“Are we at war with the Republic? I mean, is this a civil war? I know that what we’re seeing coming our way are Republic mechs, tanks, and sleds. But why?”
Yoon had been wondering the same thing. It was an open secret that the House and Senate despised the Legion. For its part, the Legion didn’t much like them back. But Legion Commander Keller had always sought the greater good of the Republic. Civil war was genocidal folly. If acquiescing to a few points could stave off conflict… so be it.
Yoon thought all this, but he wasn’t afforded the chance to put these reflections into words, because the all-channel comm sounded, and a holo of Admiral Devers of the Third Fleet appeared.
Yoon didn’t think much of the admiral as a military commander. He had served a few rotations in the mid-core with the Third and had found the admiral’s strategy and judgment to be… lacking. But if his fleet was here to lend him a hand, Yoon would take it.
The holo of the admiral began to speak. “This is Admiral Silas Devers of Republic Navy, Third Fleet.”
The pomposity Yoon had come to know while serving with the admiral was clear. Devers was delivering this wartime emergency transmission as though he were giving a speech while working the stump.
“I have been sent by the Senate Council and House of Reason to put down a terrorist rebellion seeking to capture or destroy the Kesselverks Shipyards.”
Terrorists. But how could anyone—even the zhee—get ahold of so much Republic weaponry without the Legion issuing an all-points briefing?
Devers continued. “The Mid-Core Rebels have infiltrated the local security forces and the planetary defense fleet and are actively fighting against Republic forces. Do not be alarmed by the legionnaires in black armor. They are a new evolution of soldiers serving in the Third Fleet. They will not harm you. Citizens of the Republic, I urge you to stay in your homes until Republic order is restored. And to the insurgents I say: You will not have the victory this day.”
“Shut that off,” Yoon said, though the message had already ended.
“What do you make of it, sir?”
“Are you in league with the MCR, Major?” Yoon asked.
“No, sir!”
“Neither am I. And i
f Admiral Devers thinks otherwise, if those are his point-led troops advancing on our eastern wall…” Yoon cracked the vertebrae in his neck. “We’ll make ’em pay.”
Eastern Gun Bore
Fortress Omicron
0319 Local System Time
“Yes, sir,” the legionnaire captain answered into his L-comm. “We’ll draw them in.”
Reinforcements from the other walls were already pouring in to bolster the eastern wall. And while legionnaire majors and lieutenant colonels drew up battle plans, the captain thought over his own part in the battle. He’d been ordered to disrupt the enemy attack formations. The question was how he could do that without taking heavy casualties.
The repulsor pool had twelve of the wall’s fifteen combat sleds, and only half of those were equipped with anti-vehicle missile launchers. The rest sported the ubiquitous twin blaster cannons. Not much good against mechs. The sleds were fast and nimble, but wouldn’t survive a well-aimed shot from the mechs or main battle tanks.
“They’d love that,” the captain mumbled to himself.
A light went off in the recesses of his mind. They would like that.
The captain looked around for his communications officer. The second lieutenant was right where he should be. “Can you work it so that I can speak with Commander Yoon?”
A leej captain on the front had no chance of being patched through direct to the company commander, and the captain had no intention of broadcasting what he was thinking over L-comm. But the second lieutenant would have friends in the Command Center comm section. Maybe he could make arrangements.
“I think so…” the second lieutenant said, somewhat hesitant. “I may have to offer a few favors…”
“I’ll make sure you get whatever you need,” the captain answered. “Just get me a conversation with Commander Yoon.”