by Jay Allan
Attacking the Union would create a two-front war of sorts, which certainly created some disadvantages, but if he could crush the entire fleet in one surprise assault, the largest power on the Rim would lay prostrate and helpless before Hegemony forces. The pacification of the Rim would advance, perhaps by years.
And, he would obliterate any shame that, in the eyes of some, had accrued to his name following the withdrawal of his fleet from Dannith the year before. He would regain his position and his military stature would soar higher than ever.
Chapter Thirty-Four
450,000,000 Kilometers from CFS Constitution
Miramar System
Five Transits from Dannith
Year 317 AC
Stockton pulled hard on the throttle, driving his ship close to maximum thrust. He’d blasted at near full acceleration and deceleration all the way from Dannith’s system, gambling wildly that he would be able to find more locations to secure fuel. That bet had paid off twice, which had been enough—just. Assuming he was able to catch up to the fleet. There had been a battle in the system, a big one. That was obvious. But, just as clear was the fact that he’d arrived for the tail end, in time to watch the fleet withdraw, continue its retreat toward the Core, deeper into Confederation space than any enemy had ventured in a century.
He felt frustration at the fleet’s inability to stop, even to slow, the enemy…but he didn’t blame Admiral Winters. The fleet’s commander was anyone’s idea of a fighting spacer, and Stockton knew he’d managed to inflict far greater damage on the enemy than should have been possible.
But, that still wasn’t enough.
Stockton knew what Winters was doing…and he knew it wasn’t going to work. The admiral was pulling back from one defensive position to the next, trying to stretch out the Hegemony supply lines, trade space for time, at least until the entire fleet could assemble.
But, Winters didn’t know about the massive Hegemony supply and support fleet, the hundreds of ships, not just freighters and tankers, but factory vessels and huge floating mobile shipyards. The logistics train was slower than the enemy fleet. Among other delaying factors, the great shipyards needed to be split into multiple sections to fit through the transit points. That kept the support ships a few systems back from the fleet, but the enemy could still move forward at a pace that would be impossible for any conventional force. Winters was expecting the enemy to stop pursuing at some point, to pause and bring up supplies and establish logistical centers. He almost certainly expected them to be forced to conduct ground operations and secure planetary bases before they could push forward.
But, none of that was true. Stockton knew the extent of the enemy’s supply resources. He, alone, knew the Hegemony forces could continue to push forward, staying close on Winters’s heels…all the way to Megara if they chose.
He leaned down, punching at his comm controls, resending his message for the fifth time. The sixth? The enemy jamming was heavy, and he doubted his report had gotten through.
And, regardless of his fate, he had to get word to Winters, a warning that the standard tactic for a retreating fleet for the last century wasn’t going to work.
His eyes dropped to his medium range display. He was glad the enemy didn’t have any fighters. If they did, he’d probably have ten squadrons on his tail. But, there were a dozen escort ships closing on him, some from behind, others crossing from the flanks, moving to cut off his route to the fleet. Space was vast in all of its three dimensions, with numerous possible routes to escape his pursuers. But, Stockton’s ship was moving at a high velocity, and any major course changes would take a long time, more time that he had.
And, no one knew that better than his pursuers.
He angled his thrust, adjusting his course, coming as close to a spot as far from the enemy jamming as possible. Just maybe, if he could get there in time, he could get a message through. It was a longshot, but escaping from Dannith, getting this far…that had been overwhelmingly against the odds as well. Stockton had always been lucky, and while he knew his supply of fortune would run out one day, he prayed it wasn’t today.
He flipped a series of switches, routing more power to his transmitter. He didn’t have the fuel to waste, but he knew his priorities. Reaching one of the battleships now moving toward the transit point and landing, as unlikely as that goal may have been, it was second on his list.
Getting the message through to his comrades, letting them know their strategy wasn’t going to work, was a clear number one. Stockton didn’t think of himself as the sacrificial sort, but if it came down to helping his people understand what they faced, or having an infinitesimal chance of personal survival, he didn’t find it all that difficult a choice.
At least Stara will have a chance…
* * *
“Admiral, we haven’t been able to read most of the message, but the transmission code is ‘0001.’ That’s Jake’s ship, sir. Somehow, he must have survived and found a fuel source. Multiple fuel sources. He’s back…and we can’t leave him again. We just can’t.”
Winters sat in Constitution’s conference room , listening to the words—almost the pleading—of Sonya Eaton. He was alone, save for one other officer, his number two…and Sonya’s older sister.
“Captain, I understand your concern, and your attachment to Captain Stockton. He is a true hero of the Confederation, and his loss was—would be—a tragedy. But, you don’t even know that is him out there…and you’re asking me to risk the entire fleet to see who is in that ship. Thousands of spacers, Captain, not to mention the losses the pilots will take if I authorize another launch.”
Sara Eaton looked across the table as Winters spoke, but she remained silent.
Winters was shaking his head. The fleet had fought like hell in Miramar, and they’d managed to come out of the fight with a kill ratio he couldn’t have imagined. The fight had gone as well as it could have, but he’d already been late in issuing the withdrawal order. Several of his task forces were taking heavy losses as they struggled to disengage, and it he slowed the retreat anymore, the enemy would be on all his ships, just as they reach the transit point.
“What do you think, Sara?” Eaton’s silence had become too much for him. He understood her hesitation to get involved. Stockton had served alongside her forces many times, dating back to the early days of the Union War. And, her sister’s opinion had been stated in terms that could not be misunderstood.
“Admiral, it is your decision, of course.”
“And, I choose to ask your opinion, Commodore.” Winters was annoyed at Sara’s attempt to dodge the question, but he understood. From what he knew of the veteran officer, she probably considered herself unable to give an impartial opinion.
“I think the fighter squadrons will go crazy if we leave Stockton again, Admiral. If they find out before we transit, you’re going to have a mutiny on your hands. At best, we’ll get to the next system, and our single most important weapon against the enemy will be in a parlous state. You have to understand how the squadrons look up to Stockton, Admiral. He’s more than a leader to them, more than a role model. I’m afraid to see how they’ll perform if they lose him again. Also…”
“Also?” Sara hadn’t finished whatever she’d planned to say, but Winters wanted to know what she was thinking.
“Well, sir, this is just conjecture…but, that ship has been transmitting almost constantly since it entered the system. I can see Jake trying to let us know he’s here, trying to get out an ID, or even a request for some kind of help. But, what is all that data he’s been sending?”
“What are you getting at, Commodore?”
“I’m saying that, just maybe, he’s trying to send us some kind of information, something useful. Something vital to the war effort.”
“What could he know that is so important?”
“I don’t know, sir, but Jake is the hardest veteran out there. He wouldn’t be sending us anything that wasn’t important…not with such a su
stained effort.”
“If that’s even him.”
“Yes, sir…if that’s him. But, can we take the chance? Abandon him and risk the fallout among the squadrons…and miss whatever he’s trying to tell us? He’s coming from the rear of the enemy fleet, along their route of advance…and their lines of communications. I can’t guess what he’s trying to tell us, but I’d bet anything it’s important.” She paused for a few seconds. “And, Admiral…we need any break we can get right now, don’t we?”
Winters paused, looking even more frustrated as he considered Sara’s words. “You understand, you are talking about risking the entire fleet for a desperate attempt to recover a single pilot?”
“Yes, Admiral…though perhaps not the entire fleet. I could take a task force and move to recover Captain Stockton, while the rest of the fleet withdraws.”
“You’re talking about facing the entire enemy fleet with a single task force. You’ll be massively outnumbered…you could lose the entire force. You could recover Stockton—if that is him—just to have him killed when the ship he lands on is destroyed along with every other vessel under your command.”
“I think we can get him and get back out, Admiral. It will be tight, but I’m ready to give it a try.”
Winters stared across the table, uncertain what to do. The idea of risking his second in command—and the only other officer present who could really take over command of the fleet—not to mention a good sized chunk of the ships he had left, seemed insane. But, if he abandoned Stockton, it might be more than just the pilots after his head. The strike force commander was idolized by almost every spacer in uniform.
“Very well, Commodore…but I do not want you risking total disaster. You can try to recover that fighter…but I am counting on you to push things so far, and no farther. I can’t lose you, and we’re outnumbered already, without throwing a whole task force away.”
“Understood, Admiral.” A pause. “I know what is at stake.”
Winters nodded. “We better get you transferred over. Where do you want to fly your flag?”
“I don’t know, Admiral. Renown, maybe…or Defiant?
“They’re both toward the rear of the formation. We’ll have to race to get you over there by shuttle before things hit the fan, but we can probably make it if we…”
“Repulse is ready, Admiral…and we’re close to the back of the formation. You could put together a task force with the ships around us.” The voice was Sonya Eaton’s, coming through the comm. Winters had forgotten that the line was still open. It had taken nearly a minute for the signal to reach Sonya’s ship and to return.
He looked at the fleet display on the wall, and then he looked over at Sara. He wasn’t sure about the wisdom of sending Sara Eaton to her sister’s ship…but there was a certain logic to Stockton’s base ship being part of the task force trying to save him.
Assuming it was him out there. Winters still wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Commodore?” He looked at Sara, knowing he was giving his tacit approval.
“Yes, Admiral. Repulse is Stockton’s ship, and I flew my flag there during the White Fleet’s entire journey. We can put together a respectable task force from the ships in that sector.”
“Very well, Commodore…you better get going.” Winters paused. “And, good luck, Sara. Remember, no heroics. Make your best effort to get Stockton back, but whatever happens, get those ships back and out of this system. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Winters wasn’t sure he believed her…and he wasn’t sure she believed herself.
* * *
“The commodore’s shuttle is approaching, Captain. Projected landing in four minutes.”
“Very well, Commander.” Sonya Eaton sat on Repulse’s bridge, calm to any who looked at her, but her insides were tight and tied in knots. She’d held on a course to rendezvous with her sister’s shuttle, but that had kept the battleship on a predictable vector, and the approaching enemy battleships would be within railgun range in a matter of minutes. She wasn’t sure which of the forward Hegemony vessels had operational heavy weapons—the lead ships had been heavily engaged, and some of them, at least, had significant damage. But, it would only take one. Repulse had suffered in the engagement as well, and her primaries were useless scrap. Her port broadside had been raked badly, and two-thirds of the guns were offline. The starboard side was in better shape, and the depleted engineering team had managed to rig alternate power lines to keep the weapons operational.
“Any progress on clearing up that jammed signal?” Stockton was still transmitting, but the enemy jamming was still wreaking havoc on the reception. They’d gotten a bit more cleaned up, but still not enough to put together just what the pilot was trying to tell them.
The enemy was trying to stop the fighter, and over a dozen escorts had joined the hunt. Stockton’s maneuvers had kept him mostly out of firing range, and evaded the few shots the enemy had gotten off against him…but those efforts had also forced him off his direct course back, adding to the amount of time it would take him to reach one of the battleships.
And, Sonya had no idea what his fuel status was…but he was burning a lot as he zigged and zagged his way past his pursuers.
“The AI is still working on it, Captain. The signal’s gotten a bit stronger, but it’s still a jumbled mess, at least to human ears.”
“I want that audio cleaned up, Commander, and I want it now. Put every available specialist on it immediately.” Sonya was below the level of decision making that had decreed that the fleet would try to rescue Stockton, but she was sure whatever the pilot was trying so hard to communicate was enormously important. She was determined to rescue the captain, whatever it took, but on some other level, she knew if that effort failed, if Stockton died here, in sight of the fleet, she had to at least make sure his final mission had not failed. She had to know what he was trying so hard to tell the fleet.
She sighed softly, her mind snapping from one thing to the next, Stockton, the audio cleanup, damage control operations. Her casualties in sickbay.
The mission to rescue Jake Stockton had delayed the implementation of heavy thrust, and that bought time for the patients in sickbay, particularly Anya Fritz and Walt Billings. The two stricken engineers were still fighting for their lives, both comatose despite repeated cleanse operations and extensive cell repair therapies. The doctors had been reluctant to offer detailed diagnoses, save to say it was a miracle either one of them was still alive. Sonya chose to take that as a positive assessment, though she was far from certain it had been intended that way.
“Shuttle making final approach, Captain.”
Sonya nodded, and even as she did, a flash whipped by on the main display. The enemy had opened fire. And, she knew they had only one weapon system with that kind of range.
Repulse didn’t shake, and the scanners didn’t report any hits. For a moment, she felt a short burst of relief.
And then she saw Typhoon. Or, rather, she saw that the cruiser was gone.
Just gone.
A few seconds later, the report came in. “Captain…Typhoon took a direct railgun hit. She lost containment, and…”
“Acknowledged, Commander.” There was no need to discuss the matter further. The ship was gone, and not a soul had gotten off…and all Sonya could think was, she was glad it hadn’t been a battleship.
The shot answered another question. At least one of the ships in that line approaching had active railguns.
“Captain…this is Lieutenant Davidoff in information technology. We’ve managed to clean up the incoming signal. Relaying to your station now.”
Sonya nodded, most of her attention still on the enemy ships approaching, and the cold feeling down her spine that another round of railgun fire could come at any moment. “Very well, Commander.”
She put her hands to the side of her head, pressing the headset against her ears, as the message began to play. It was Stockton’s voice.
A little distorted by the jamming and the restoration the AI had done, but she could tell it was him. She listened to what he had to say, and when he was finished, she sat silently for a few seconds, struggling to hold back the bile threatening to rise up her throat.
Then: “Relay this to the flagship…now! Direct laser relay.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Sonya leaned back in her chair, even as the report came in confirming her sister had docked.
“Evasive maneuvers, Commander.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Then, she saw the light on her display, the confirmation that the signal to the flagship had been sent.
Whatever happened now, Clint Winters would know what Stockton had returned to report.
He would also know that his entire strategy, the battle plan he’d put together to try and stop the Hegemony, was useless.
Sonya didn’t know what they were going to do now, how they could possibly stop the enemy. But, that wasn’t her problem. If things went the way it looked like they would, the responsibility for all that happened would rest on other, more highly placed shoulders.
She would just have to die well, and see that her people did the same…and that she was ready to do.
But, first, she had to get Jake Stockton aboard. The pilot deserved better than to be left behind again…and somehow, now, the risk didn’t seem as problematic.
She wasn’t sure there was much left to live for anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Outside Senate Compound
Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III
Year 317 AC
“It’s good to see you again, Sam.” Jon Peterson walked up to the Marine officer walking down the street toward him, and he embraced his old friend. He hadn’t seen Sam Devane for better than five years, but it seemed like only a short time. You didn’t easily forget a fellow Marine, especially not one who saved your life.