Invasion (Blood on the Stars Book 9)

by Jay Allan

  “Yes, sir.”

  Barron sat in his chair, stone still, listening as Winters’s voice blared through the bridge speakers. He called out for Barron’s fleet to help, and he bade them rush to join him where he’d drawn up his fleet, the place where he’d placed his forces for one last chance to stop the Hegemony.

  Barron had expected the message, and he’d been waiting to receive word from Winters, to finally know where the fight would take place.

  The last chance to stop the enemy before they reached Megara.

  He hadn’t known where Winters would stop, where he would form up his fleet for yet another fight against the Hegemony, but, he hadn’t been prepared for the final location, and when he heard the name, it struck him like a hammer.

  He knew of the enemy supply and support assets, understood that the Confederation wasn’t going to get the months or years long delay such an invasion would normally require. The enemy could keep on coming, maintain the pressure, no matter how many battles they were compelled to fight.

  But, Barron was still stunned at just how quickly, how far the enemy had advanced…how deeply Clint Winters had been forced to retreat.

  Venga. A name that didn’t require checking any map. A smallish, yellow star with half a dozen planets, only one substantially inhabited. But, that planet was indeed substantially inhabited.

  Ulion. One of the Confederation’s seven Core worlds, an original signatory to the Confederation Charter, a planet with a population in excess of ten billon.

  Ulion. Two short transits from Megara.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  CFS Repulse

  300,000,000 Miles from Planet Ulion

  Venga System

  Year 317 AC

  The battle of Ulion – Prelude

  “Understood, Admiral. We will remain here until ordered to withdraw.” Sara Eaton signed off and looked over at her sister. The commodore was in command of a large task force, one that included more than half the battleships in Clint Winters’s entire fleet.

  She’d been stunned when Winters had told her his plan, but the more she’d considered the fleet’s options, the better she understood what seemed, on some levels, like a wild gamble. Winters had divided his already vastly outnumbered force, a tactic almost every manual—and, certainly “the book”—warned against, especially when facing a superior enemy. But, Sara understood. She knew the hopelessness of the fleet’s position, and the struggle it would face to mount a defense at Ulion. If Tyler Barron and the fleet he’d gathered at Megara got there in time, Winters’s rump force would be massively reinforced, but even then, the combined Confederation fleets would still be heavily outnumbered. If Barron didn’t make it quickly enough, the fleet would be crushed no matter what its deployment.

  Either way, the battleships she led would hit the enemy hard, as soon as they entered the system, and they would keep up the pressure, as long as she had a single squadron and a launch platform still in the fight. Her wings would pack almost double their normal punch…assuming Stara Sinclair could keep things moving on the overcrowded bays. Winters had sent every fighter from his own central force to Eaton’s ships, almost doubling her strike force. She had experience managing overloaded bays, stretching back all the way to the early days of the Union War, when she and Tyler Barron had crammed their ships full of orphan squadrons stranded when their base ships had been destroyed. She’d skippered Intrepid back then. The old battleship had been her first command, and one she’d held for five years…before she’d lost her beloved ship in battle. Intrepid hadn’t died with quite the fanfare and glory that Barron’s first Dauntless had, but the vessel had done its duty, and secured its place in Confederation history.

  She scanned her eyes across her workstation screen, confirming the various stats, fuel, ordnance, other supplies. Repulse was packed to the rafters, loaded up with everything she could conceivably need in battle. Ulion wasn’t an ideal system to mount a desperate defense—the planet’s Peace Party had long dominated local politics, and of the seven Core systems, it was the most poorly outfitted with fortresses and orbital platforms. Still, forming up around a world with over ten billion inhabitants had its advantages, and a virtual armada of freighters and tankers had been making their ways all across the system, provisioning the fleet with all manner of supplies. Repulse and her sister ships were ready, and if Eaton could keep her task force away from the enemy heavy guns and avoid catastrophic damage, she could turn the fighter wings around five or six times. Maybe even seven.

  She would have to do just that that if the fleet was to have any chance at all. If she let the Hegemony forward line through intact or close to it, those giant battleships would blast Winters’s vessels to slag before they even got a chance to return fire.

  She glanced again at her sister, even as Sonya looked back. They shared a short non-verbal communication. Sara knew her sister understood, and that the younger Eaton would command Repulse brilliantly. The battleship had been Sara’s own command when the White Fleet had set out, but now she was a task force commander, and she reminded herself to focus on that, and not on micromanaging Repulse.

  Sonya can handle the battleship…maybe better than you could. Let her.

  And focus on your real job…maybe you’ll even get a few of these ships out of here when it’s over.

  * * *

  “Alicia, I brought you over here because I wanted us all to have a talk before the launch orders come.” Jake Stockton was sitting on a metal crate in Repulse’s launch bay, looking at his two key subordinates, a pair of officers who would help him lead the strike forces when the enemy fleet arrived. It was an odd place for a conference, loud, with flight crew moving all around, finishing maintenance work on the fighters. But, even though there were meeting areas, ward rooms, even his own quarters available, the bay seemed, somehow, the right place.

  Admiral Winters had been clear…he wanted every squadron in the fleet ready to launch on a few moments’ notice. That was a more complicated order than it appeared, and it took a lot of work to keep the Lightnings armed, fueled, and ready to go 24/7.

  “I understand, Captain. It’s an honor to serve with you.” Alicia Covington had commanded Clint Winters’s squadrons, before Stockton and the White Fleet had returned and joined up with the admiral’s forces. She and Olya Federov were his two key subordinates, ‘super wing commanders,’ he had dubbed them. They would each command a third of the task force’s fighters…and they would take his place if…

  “You all know, we’re basically sitting around here, waiting for a drone to come through that transit point and let us know that the Hegemony fleet is coming. With any luck, the scouts on the other side will get the warning off quickly, and they’ll come racing back themselves. That will give us a couple hours, and enough time to organize our launches and be waiting exactly where we want to be, in perfect formation.”

  “The squadrons will be ready, I can promise you that. As quickly as you can get your people in their cockpits, my teams will get you launched.” Stara Sinclair was sitting on one of the crates, about half a meter farther back than the pilots. Stockton had invited her, but she’d been hesitant to move up farther. She was a key part of the planned fighter ops, in some ways even more important that any single officer who would actually be out there in a fighter. Running Repulse’s launch bays was only a tiny crumb on her plate. She was responsible for flight ops on every one of the battleships. It was an impossible job, a post that hadn’t even existed before the White Fleet had formed—and even then, it had been created with no expectation for serious combat. Still, whatever the obstacles in her way, the speed with which she could drive the crews and get the fighters back out would have a massive impact on the amount of damage the wings could inflict on the enemy.

  And, she would have to keep things moving with almost twice the usual number of fighters in the ships’ bays. The vanguard, the force of battleships positioned on the flank of the enemy’s expected inbound course, carried almost every
fighter the fleet possessed, stripped from the bays of Admiral Winters’s main task force. The plan was to bring as much force to bear as the enemy approached…and then, when the Hegemony fleet moved forward, Winters’s vessels would serve as forward landing and refueling platforms for the Ulion-based wings. The planet was lightly defended by comparison to Megara and most other comparable planets, but it was still part of the Core, and Winters had managed to get six hundred fighters ready for action, drawing on the regular service squadrons, and activating the reserves.

  “Thanks, Stara. I know just how good you are at this…but you’ve got a lot of ships to deal with, and that doesn’t even take into consideration the effect if we run into jamming, and you lose comms.” Stockton managed a smile as his gaze lingered on her for just a second or two. He knew just how close he’d come to never seeing her again, and now, after just a couple weeks, he would be launching again, flying off into another seemingly hopeless battle, one that could easily see them parted forever. Would she watch as his ship vanished from her display, the tiny fighter obliterated by a perfectly-targeted shot he knew was out there, one he knew would come for him one day?

  Or, would he turn to his display in the middle of battle…and notice Repulse’s icon was gone? Would the enemy line get close enough to blast the battleship to scrap, and Stara along with it?

  Stockton had never let such concerns distract him in battle, and he had no intention of starting now. But, he prayed silently, to the gods of war, or whatever form fortune took in such matters, to take him first if they had to die. It was selfish, pushing the grief onto her, while he would be dead, his pain gone, but it was what he hoped for nevertheless.

  “The waiting will be hard on the pilots.” Stockton turned his thoughts back to the primary topic. “We’re going to have to address them every few hours, keep their spirits up.” How do you do that when you—and they—know we’re all going to die? If not here, somewhere else, and soon. Tell yourself what you want, but we can’t stop that massive force, no matter what we do…

  Stockton was the only one who’d seen the enemy support fleet, the massive forces still around Dannith and the worlds in between there and Ulion, the hundreds, no thousands, of ships at the Hegemony’s disposal, filled with an unimaginable tonnage of supplies. The mining ships, likely already feeding ore to the mobile shipyards and the refinery vessels, drawing Helium 3 from gas giants, refueling the Hegemony war machine.

  He tried to rally his élan, but this time the odds were just too steep, the prospects too grim. Even if Tyler Barron got there in time, Stockton had grave doubts the combined force could stop the enemy.

  “I agree, Captain. I suggest we rotate, that each of us take a turn.” Alicia Covington sat almost motionless, clearly trying to ward off the same grim assessment Stockton had made.

  “I agree, as well.” Olya Federov was one of Stockton’s oldest comrades, and another member of Dauntless’s legendary early war squadrons. She was one of his closest friends, but she also reminded him of too many others who weren’t there anymore.

  “Okay…we all know what’s at stake here. The enemy’s got nav information, that’s almost a certainty. There must have been a thousand databanks on Dannith with maps of the Confederation, more than anyone could have erased. If they get past us here…” When, he thought, but didn’t say. “…one transit put them in Megon…” The system past Ulion was a planetless star, a nexus with no real support structure to mount another defensive effort. “…and then, one more jump…Megara.”

  It was almost impossible to believe the enemy had sliced through Confederation space so deeply and so quickly…at least to anyone but Jake Stockton. He has seen the vast array of support vessels. He didn’t know how far the enemy would be able to go without finally pausing…but he was damned certain they could make it through two more transits.

  And, that would be far enough.

  “Alright…we all know the score. We know what we face.” Stockton paused, looking down at the deck’s steel floor for a few seconds before his eyes darted back up. “There are no people I’d want at my side more than the three of you. We’re facing an overwhelming situation, but you all know what will happen to the battle line if we can’t at least damage some of those Hegemony battleships…so there is no point thinking about the war, the next battle, even ten minutes ahead. Just do what you do best, focus on your people and the enemy…and let’s do what Admiral Winters is counting on us to do.”

  * * *

  “Commander…all ships are to launch fighters at once.” Sonya Eaton stood in the center of Repulse’s bridge, staring at the main display, at the space all around the transit point.

  Where the enemy’s lead forces would appear in just a few minutes.

  Sonya watched her sister, even as she leaned forward herself and issued the launch order to Repulse’s flight decks. She was Repulse’s captain, and Sara’s flag captain. The ship was her responsibility.

  Her sister had over twenty vessels to command, and that was more than enough to worry about. She would make sure Repulse was well-handled…and the sharpest ship in the fleet.

  “Fleet launch order issued, Commodore. All ships acknowledge.” Sara may have command of the fleet and Sonya of Repulse itself, but they were sharing John Fuller. The commander was acting as the admiral’s aide, and as Repulse’s first officer. It was a heavy load, but sometimes it just made sense to have the best person for the job, or half of the best, and in this case, Fuller was definitely the best.

  Sonya had listened to the same message Sara had, that everyone else on the bridge had. The enemy was moments behind the drone. She didn’t know why the warning had come so late, or what had happened to the three scoutships that had been deployed in the system beyond the transit point.

  None of that mattered, not now. The battle they’d all known was coming, that they’d prepared for, feared, planned, was there. For the third time in less than two months, Winters’s fleet would engage the vast forces of the Hegemony. Sonya hadn’t imagined back in Dannith that, seven weeks later, they would have been pushed back so far, that the enemy would have—could have—continued its relentless advance without stopping.

  Or that Winters’s fleet still would not have been reinforced.

  That, at least, would hopefully change. There had been no official announcements, but word had spread throughout the fleet. Admiral Barron was coming with a large force. She remembered when Barron had left the White Fleet to return to the Confederation, to give the warning about the Hegemony. She’d been shocked when the White Fleet had finally returned, only to find no massed Confederation navy waiting, no sign of any buildup or forces, save what Winters had managed to scrape up from the frontier. She’d heard all sorts of crazy stories since then, even rumors about civil war…but she had no idea what was going on. Now, the word that Barron was coming gave her renewed hope.

  If his forces arrive in time…

  She looked up at the display, even as Repulse shook lightly every few seconds, vibrations from the ship’s launch catapults. A few seconds later, the squadrons began to appear on the screen, tiny clouds of almost-invisible dots. They formed up quickly, and they began to move toward the transit point. The battle plan was elaborate in ways, the fleet divided, and the smaller escort ships deployed far forward of the great battleships…but, it was also simple. The fighters were to hit the enemy ships at the point, as quickly and as hard as possible. Then they were to return and rearm…and do it all again. As many times as they could.

  “Flight control reports first wave squadrons away. Second wave will commence launch operations in four minutes.” Fuller snapped out the report, wearing his hat as Repulse’s exec.

  “Very well, Commander.” Sonya knew the turnaround time had been outstanding, that is, it was almost a miracle that her people had managed to get the extra fighters jammed into Repulse’s bays and get her own squadrons out so rapidly. It wasn’t reasonable to expect the impossible from her people…but she knew they needed the
impossible. It was their only hope.

  “Engine room, prepare for thrust on preset course as soon as the last fighters are away.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Sonya knew the battleplan. She didn’t need to hear her sister repeat it. The battleships were to pull back as soon as they’d launched their squadrons. She bristled at retreating even as she sent her pilots to fight, but she knew what those railguns could do…and she understood Repulse’s best use in this fight was as a carrier, staying operational long enough to refit and relaunch its fighters.

  She sighed softly and watched the display, even as her squadrons linked up with those from the other ships, forming one massive line, hundreds of tiny dots, a great cloud moving toward the transit point.

  A few minutes later, the scanner reports came in. Massive energy signatures at the transit point.

  The enemy was coming through. The battle had begun.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The Admiralty

  Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III

  Year 317 AC

  “Dirk Timmons took the top class from the Academy with him, along with most of the retirees who volunteered to return to active duty. That leaves us all the regular Megara wings, including the reserves…plus another six hundred Lightnings in storage, assuming we can find anyone who can fly them.” Van Striker sat at the large conference table, staring at four or five tablets set down in a haphazard pile in front of him. He was playing a game of sorts, seeing how much naval fighting power he could conjure up, almost as if from thin air.