by Darold Higa
Alicia raised an eyebrow. If command of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had reverted to a battlefield commander, it means that casualties among Renspa’s senior command must have been very high.
Mitchell must have noticed Alicia’s expression. “Unfortunately we were informed that a Narthian commando attack had destroyed the shuttle carrying most of the senior Joint Chiefs. They were in a meeting with Admiral Raleigh just prior to evacuation, so standard protocol to separate them on different shuttles was ignored. Since the JCS staff were mixed in with the civilian government, news of the situation didn’t reach our attention until after the evacuation.” Mitchell shook her head sadly. “The Narthians really hurt us.”
Paul Worthington spoke up. “So, Admiral, what will the Space Patrol do now?”
“The Narthians have 18 fleets at Newport. This would have been 21 fleets, but the destruction of the Northern Task Force by Admiral Linodan and Commodore Cadwell helped reduce this number. We also know that Narthia has at least another 6 fleets scattered along the HyNet route between Aurora and Newport. Even if we could gather up all of the Fleet into a single task force we are still outnumbered roughly 3:1, which, for the moment at least, completely rules out a counterattack to retake Newport. Still, because of the 24 hour cease-fire, we were able to avert total disaster. Now that we have managed a partial consolidation of the fleet, Narthia must keep its own forces concentrated or risk counterattack. This does not mean that Narthia couldn’t move out in numbers to crush each group piecemeal.” Alicia nodded. The situation was bleak, and there were very few options for the Renspans.
Mitchell continued. “Our only option at this point is to further consolidate our forces, pulling back from the areas surrounding Newport. Group Rinaldi is well positioned, preventing the Narthians from advancing against Spincora through Renspan space, and should remain in place. Group Patterson will have to shift antispinward towards the Spincoran border. This will unfortunately mean that the rimward side of Renspa will have to be abandoned to the Narthians. Group Strong at Arlington makes the most logical center of the line, and it insures that we keep lines of communication with Spincora open. The only options to the 11th fleet are to either conduct guerrilla operations against the HyNet route to Newport or to surrender. Admiral Bingham has informed me that she has no intent of surrendering.”
Alicia nodded. Now was her turn. She had managed to have a long talk with Spincoran Fleet Command and was briefed on the strategic situation from Spincora’s perspective. The view in the datatank changed to show Spincoran space. “I wish I had better news. Spincora’s 18 fleets were not well placed to deal with the current situation. Right now intelligence reports that we are facing a reduced strength Banner Yellow and Banner Red, totaling approximately 18 fleets. We have repositioned 12 of our fleets along the border, in three task forces of 4 fleets each, stationed at Athenia, Sardinia and Pontus. Two fleets have been designated as active reserve, and have been stationed here at Salamis. Two fleets are currently stationed at Nova Roma, just in case the Narthians have managed another massive deception. Of course, two of our fleets are here at New Boston. This leaves no fleets aside from my forces immediately available to help Renspa.” Alicia noted the look of disappointment on Admiral Mitchell’s face. Alicia continued. “The situation is not as bad as it might appear, however. Because of our compulsory military service rules, we actually have a large number of reservists. In fact, our reserve pool is much larger than your Planetary Guard. We began secret mobilization of our Category II and Category III fleets about two months ago. We did inform your Joint Chiefs, but I’m not sure if it was common knowledge.” By the surprise revealed in Admiral Mitchell’s eyes, Alicia assumed that Spincora’s own deception had worked. “We had hoped we would have a few months for retraining and refitting mothballed crew and vessels, but in any case, we should have another 8 fleets ready in a matter of weeks. As best as our own intelligence AIs can tell, Narthia is unaware that we are so far along in our reserve activation. We also began a crash program to ramp up our production. Obviously, any new forces will take considerably longer to come online.”
Admiral Mitchell’s disposition had noticeably improved. “This is very good news. We may have lost Newport, but if we are able to establish a government in exile, I am sure that we can nationalize a number of Planetary Guard units. This will allow us to call up at least another 4 fleets.”
Alicia also noted that due to the bloody war between Renspa and Spincora 50 years ago, most of Renspa’s military shipyards were close to the Spincoran border. The war was still a raw subject for many, so Alicia decided not to bring it up, but she knew these planets would be important places to service damaged vessels as well as begin to produce new ships.
“All that remains then, is what the forces here at New Boston should do.”
Alicia decided to speak. “It is my opinion that our immediate top priority should be to form a government in exile for the Renspan Federation.” The heads around the table nodded. “On the other hand, we are the only allied forces that have any chance of being able to disrupt communications and logistics of the forces at Newport.” Alicia drew in a deep breath. “It is for that reason that I suggest that we split the forces here. Sokolov Fleet should escort the government in exile to Nova Roma. This frees up the 10th fleet to join forces with Group Strong at Arlington.” Alicia looked over at Ellen, who returned her glance with a firm nod. “Leaving Linodan Fleet and the 7th Fleet to remain in the area to conduct guerrilla operations against Banner Blue and Banner Green operations in the area.”
Alicia sighed out loud. As Admiral, her list of tasks to accomplish was much longer than the time she had available to finish them. Since Newport, she had no time to sleep. Largo had chided her, however, suggesting that she might start making mistakes if she didn’t get at least a few hours of sleep. Agreeing, she decided that there was one task that absolutely had to be resolved before she turned in.
Reaching the doorway to the Relentless AI Core, she tried to put on the most cheerful face she could. She knew that the installation of the new AI cores had been interrupted by the attack, and that she would need the help of these civilians. Yet, she couldn’t really ask them to remain in harm’s way. The door slid open and Alicia stepped inside. Rick Blanchard, the computer technician from Newport Cybernetics, was seated in the middle of the room, drinking a bottle of soda. The giant datatank display parted in front of her.
“Hello Admiral. How can I help you?”
Alicia looked at the computer engineer. He spoke while his eyes remained transfixed on the datatank. The effect was very disconcerting. “Ah yes, Dr. Blanchard.”
“Call me Rick.”
“Rick, as you know, we are in orbit of New Boston. I regret that I was unable to ask you about disembarking prior to the previous battle, but the necessity of the moment absolutely required you remaining onboard. In fact, I’m not sure I had a chance to thank you, the AI cores performed brilliantly.”
“Oh, that. No problem. It wasn’t a big deal.” His eyes remained transfixed on the datatank.
His rudeness set her aback, but she continued. “Well, we are about to engage in a very risky mission. We will be operating behind enemy lines, and we may not be afforded the protection of the Laws of War. As a result, I would like to offer you and your staff a chance to disembark here at New Boston.” Alicia paused, unsure of how the engineer would respond.
“Oh, thanks. It’s OK. We all decided that we’ll stay.” The engineer continued working without ever looking directly at Alicia.
Alicia was relieved, but the indifference of his reaction irritated her. As crown princess, she was typically the target of too much attention. Never before had she been so casually ignored. Alicia discovered that it was an altogether unpleasant sensation. “Thank you Dr. Blanchard. Good day.” Alicia was surprised at herself as she angrily spun around and sped out of the room.
“Uh, bye.” Rick raised his hand, his eyes never making contact with hers.
&n
bsp; Upset, Alicia stormed down the corridor, scowling. She was so absorbed that she almost ran into a sailor, who looked afraid that she had somehow angered the Admiral. Alicia stomped the entire way to her cabin.
4563 July 06
Independent Merchant Kolga
In Orbit Above Aurora
Federal Republic of Renspa (Occupied)
Tessa Hawke looked at the datatank and shook her head. Normally, Renspan space wasn’t that large for a ship with a powerful interstellar bubblespace drive. She had a very high quality AI core, and she could traverse the Federation in a little over a week. The Narthian invasion had changed all of that. An hour ago she docked at the spaceport at Aurora to refuel. Normally she got a cursory visit by a Renspan customs official to verify her ship manifest. Instead, armed Narthian soldiers boarded the ship. Instead of just inspecting the manifest, the ship had been thoroughly searched. Thankfully, the President had insisted on first stopping at a hospital to drop off his injured aide and secret service agent. Had the two injured people remained on board, it would have been impossible to hide her “cargo.” Now, the Narthian officer that took over space control for the spaceport expected her to file a flightplan. She was faced with the dilemma of selecting her next destination. The medianet indicated that every Renspan system between her and Spincoran space were occupied by the Narthians. Once the Chief of Staff and the Secret Service agent were identified, it was distinctly possible that the Narthians would put two and two together and figure out that the President was still alive. She was guessing that with every jump, she would be under intense scrutiny, particularly considering her lack of cargo. Considering the Narthians’ distrust of independent merchants, she wouldn’t be surprised if they would just confiscate her ship the next time she ran a security checkpoint.
That only left one other option. She traced a line in her datatank with her finger. The only clear route she could follow would be to leave Renspan space and head towards Narthia. She would head first to Port Lightning in the neutral Marginals. There she could pick up a cargo, which would provide a reasonable cover story. To add to the deception, she would then head to Bastenach, a Narthian ally located away from Spincoran space. That way, there would be an official Narthian record of her heading away from Spincora after being at Aurora. Once she left Bastenach she could pick up a more speculative cargo and hit the Lightning Mainline, a popular merchant route for independent merchants serving the Ladera Marginals. By staying out of Narthian or Renspan space, she could work her way towards Spincoran space indirectly. It would take some time, but in the artifact smuggling business speed was the enemy. The longer you took, and the more leisurely the path you followed, the less suspicion you were treated with. She nodded with satisfaction, transmitted the flightpath, then went back into the cargo bay to let out the President from his hiding space. “I hope he’s not claustrophobic,” she said to no one in particular.
4563 July 06
Federal Hall
Newport
Federal Republic of Renspa (Occupied)
President Devon looked up at the Old Earth mechanical clock ticking away time in the Blue Room. She had never noticed how President Hamilton had filled the room with a lot of Old Earth relics. She wondered where Peter had managed to get all of those things. Most puzzling was a painting that she had identified as an original Monet from Old Earth. How he had managed to get such a rare artifact was a complete mystery to her. Looking back to the antique desk made from wood that had actually grown on Earth, she saw her desktop datatank was crowded with reports from the hastily erected refugee collection points from the different worlds that were already under Narthian occupation. Secretly, Admiral Raleigh already informed her that the Space Patrol had used the 24 hours well, they had consolidated themselves and were reorganizing, despite the loss of the shuttle containing the Joint Chiefs. Most importantly, she was mindful of the Narthian officer that was sitting in the office, intently reading something in a portable datatank.
She knew her decision to surrender was the right one. She even held out a hope that history would recognize the motivation behind her decision, and that she wouldn’t go down in the history books as the politician that betrayed the Renspan people. Well, she thought to herself, that would probably depend on who was writing the history. She glanced at the reports, which continued to rapidly accumulate in her datatank. Now, she had to live with the consequences of her decision, however. For better or worse, she was about to become the top Renspan official in the occupation authority. As she glanced at the mechanical clock on the wall, she could feel the seconds ticking away. Almost as if reading her thoughts, the Narthian colonel glanced at his own chronometer.
The clock began to chime. The 24 hours were up and the surrender was now in effect. Before the last chime had sounded, there was a knock on the door. The colonel, ostensibly her “aide,” went to the door and opened it. On the other side was Admiral Liu, head of the Renspan Occupational Authority. With him was a flock of aides.
“Good afternoon your Excellency.” President Devon raised an eyebrow at the sleight. Renspans never used the title Excellency, preferring the more egalitarian title of “President.”
“Good afternoon Admiral.”
“I have the papers formalizing the terms of your surrender.”
Lindsey never really understood the insistence on the use of physical paper for interstellar treaties. Still, as the Admiral presented the parchment for her signature, she was taken aback by the gravitas that the paper treaty seemed to have. She closed her datatank and placed the paper on her desk. She grabbed the ink pen awkwardly. She paused for a moment, drew a deep breath, and placed the pen on the paper. As she signed the document, she could feel her hands shake. Without much emotion, Admiral Liu also signed the treaty. Then two other witnesses added a digital verification watermark. Once the treaty was signed, Admiral Liu took another copy of the documents out of the portfolio and the ritual was repeated. Admiral Liu inspected both sets of documents. Looking satisfied, he placed both sets into his portfolio.
“Thank you, your Excellency. The Empress sends her fond greetings, and welcomes Renspa and her fine peoples to the Empire.” Lindsey nodded silently. Satisfied, Admiral Liu extended his hand towards Lindsey. Lindsey weakly shook his hand, with the aides recording the moment.
“President Devon, we note that during the mandatory ceasefire, no Federal Space Patrol units have surrendered. In addition, many planets failed to send the appropriate surrender signals. As you currently represent the legitimate government of Renspa, any Renspan citizen or solider who has not surrendered after the customary ceasefire period will be considered unofficial combatants and are not under protection of the Luna Conventions and the Laws of War. Is that understood?” Lindsey swallowed hard and nodded.
As quickly as he arrived Admiral Liu left the Blue Room. The colonel sat down and resumed reading his datatank. Lindsey slumped into her chair. When she tried to remind herself that she made the right choice, she pictured Admiral Liu. Fighting back tears, she waved her hand over her desk and started pouring over the refugee reports.
4563 July 06
Westridge Stadium
Newport
Federal Republic of Renspa (Occupied)
The past day had been utter chaos. By the time Rachel and Elsie had arrived at the Refugee collection point at the west end of the city, the magnitude of the crisis facing Newport City was becoming apparent. The Westridge Stadium, capable of holding 200,000, had been completely filled. Overwhelmed Renspan emergency crews had retreated from the general holding area, outnumbered nearly two thousand to one. They had set up a small field hospital and what looked to be a small food distribution point. Signs hastily posted at the entrance redirected them to three other nearby facilities. From what Rachel could gather, other refugees had been directed back and forth between the other facilities, so she abandoned the idea of going to one of these other places. There was one exception to the utter chaos in front of her. A group of Narthian aid
workers surrounded by Narthian army powersuits had set up a tent. There was a long line outside the tent, but the troops in their armored suits carrying menacing e-mag rifles managed to maintain order.
Not seeing any other alternative, Rachel and Elise got in line. The Narthians, if anything, were efficient. In a few hours, they had been assigned a reservation slot at a camp several hours outside the city, at a staging area set up by Narthia to land shuttles. Ground based vehicles clearly marked with camp destinations were being quickly loaded. At each bus a Narthian soldier in a powersuit checked identity datacrystals and made sure that the refugees were headed for the right camp. The soldiers were all very polite. Rachel watched the bitter irony as those under Renspan care seemed to be suffering in the Stadium as she sat comfortably next to Elise under Narthian care in a bus as it prepared to leave for the camp.
The drive out of the city painted a very grim picture for the Renspan forces. Everywhere along the highway were burnt out Renspan tanks, power armors and transports. It looks like the military had put up a fight, but from the looks of it, the defense was disorganized. Occasionally, a damaged Narthian wreck could be found, but it looked like there were already engineering crews surveying damaged Narthian vehicles. It was depressing. Rachel didn’t really consider herself a diehard patriot, but she had always thought that the Renspans would put up a fight against any enemies, the way they had back in the war with the Spincorans. Rachel shook her head. She hadn’t thought about Rick since the entire madness had begun. She could only hope that the team had managed to escape with the Spincorans. Rachel smiled. Knowing him, he was probably drinking a bottle of Spincoran soda, surfing the web and eating room service in some fancy hotel on Nova Roma, all on Old Man Sanchez’s dime. She smirked at the thought that some pretty Spincoran girl would take interest in him, but knowing that fool, he would probably not even notice. The adrenaline of the day had taken its toll, and she drifted to sleep.