by Jay Allan
“Yes, Admiral.” Jerome’s voice suggested the vaguest uncertainty in the aide’s mind as well.
“And, get me a line to the flagship over there…we’ve got these bastards bracketed between two forces, and stuck in the middle of their planetary operations…and we’re going to take advantage of that.”
“Yes, sir,” Jerome said, crisply.
Winters waited, silently, his mind focused on the renewed fight to come…and his eyes fixed on the display, as the ships of the White Fleet continued to transit into the system.
Chapter Fifty
CFS Dauntless
75,000,000 Kilometers from Primary
Delphi System
Year 316 AC
“Jettison the log, Atara.” Barron had almost walked the two meters to her station to whisper the order into her ear. But, he’d realized that would spare his people nothing. They would have known exactly what he was doing…and they were all as aware as he was, just how little chance they had of surviving the incoming strike.
Barron might have ignored the log, save for one thing. It was his last chance to get the word out. Maybe when it was retrieved, after he was dead, those who listened would understand he had no more reasons to lie…and take the warning seriously. He’d sent a ship to alert Admiral Winters at Base Grimaldi, so even if the log failed, there was still some hope. And, he clung to that thought. Tightly.
“Log jettisoned, Tyler.” She turned and looked back at him, and their eyes connected. Atara Travis had been more than an exec to him, more than a friend. She was the sister he’d never had, and one of the few people he’d met who had never failed to be there for him. He regretted that she had to die because of what had happened to him…worse, because she’d tried to help him. He’d long been prepared, at least on some level, to see his people die in battle, but he’d never imagined they would come to that pass not facing some enemy, but because of their loyalty to him. It was a bitter realization, but one he couldn’t deny.
He felt the urge to call up the crews manning the defense grid, to rally them, work them into a frenzy…but he’d done that already. They were veterans, and they knew what to do. He had no doubt they would blast the incoming squadrons with deadly fire.
He was just as sure enough of the attack craft would get through to blast Dauntless to atoms.
He’d done all he could. Dauntless couldn’t outrun the bombers, and trying to would only delay the inevitable by a few moments…and degrade his evasive maneuvers. No, Barron would do anything to save his people, but if they were doomed anyway, there was no reason to delay it, to prolong the pain.
“Atara…set up the comm system to repeat the warning about the Hegemony.” No one was listening, but he didn’t want to chance his opponents ignoring Dauntless’s log. Maybe, just maybe, they would consider his words after the battle, that the Barron name had a last touch of magic in it. He didn’t know if it would work, and he realized he would never know. But, he had to try.
“Yes, sir.” A moment later. “The message is being transmitted on a repeating loop, Admiral.” A pause. “We’ve done everything we can, Tyler. If they won’t listen…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. They had both seen the Hegemony forces up close, and they knew what was coming.
Barron turned back to the display. The enemy strike force was thirty minutes from attack range. Normally, Atara would be announcing that. He knew her well enough to be sure she hadn’t forgotten, and he was grateful for the simple mercy she was showing all hands by remaining silent. They could all see the display. They all knew they had less than thirty minutes to live.
Barron leaned back and closed his eyes. It seemed strange to be in so desperate a situation, and yet have nothing to do. Helplessness was the most difficult affliction for him to endure, and even as he sat quietly, his mind raced, frantically trying to think of something—anything—to do.
But there was nothing.
Then, one of the lift doors opened, and he turned to see what was happening.
His eyes glistened with moisture as he saw Andi Lafarge step onto the bridge.
Another person he loved…and another who would die because of loyalty to him, because she had tried to help him.
“I hope you don’t mind, Tyler,” she said softly, after she’d walked across the bridge toward his chair. “I…I just wanted to be with you.”
The defeated tone struck him hard. He didn’t give up in a fight, but he’d never met anyone with Andi’s raw stubbornness. To see her effectively acknowledging that all was lost almost destroyed him in an instant.
Barron had always tried to keep his relationship with Andi somewhat of a secret, perhaps the most disastrously unsuccessful effort he’d ever made. But, there was no point now…and he was grateful for one last chance to see her, a few final moments together, even if they couldn’t be alone.
Even if they could only sit together and wait for death.
“Of course…I’m glad you came.” He looked at her, and he hoped desperately that his eyes conveyed what he wanted to tell her but couldn’t.
She walked up next to his chair and stood there, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“Admiral…”
Atara’s voice pulled his thoughts back to the bridge.
“We’ve got energy readings at the Andura transit point.”
Barron’s head snapped around, his eyes moving toward the blue circle representing the point. Andura wasn’t on any path to Megara, save the one right through Delphi. Whatever was coming, there was no way they were responding to an order from the Senate.
He knew it was most likely some kind of routine traffic, freighters or civilian passenger ships stumbling into a battlezone entirely unawares. He couldn’t imagine any scenario that could help him, or rescue Dauntless from its impending doom.
But, it gave him something else to think about.
“We’ve got big ships coming through, Admiral. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there are half a dozen battleships inbound.”
Barron’s eyes widened. Now, he was totally confused. He’d have discounted the report from almost anyone else, but he’d never known Atara to be wrong about a scanner reading.
“Battleships? That’s impossible. Andura leads to the Far Rim. The Confederation doesn’t even have six battleships out there.” But, even as he spoke, the scanner readings updated, and six massive contacts appeared in the display, right in front of the transit point. They were coming in-system at high velocities.
Barron didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. If those ships were here for him, it was almost comical overkill. He waited, watching for the scanners to update, or to pick up the Confederation ID beacons on the ships…but there was nothing.
And, then, the comm crackled to life.
“All ships in the system are to power down immediately, or face immediate attack and destruction. The vessel Dauntless is under our protection, and any vessels firing upon it will be attacked without further notice.
Barron was stunned, and for a moment he just sat, still as a statue. He knew the voice, and even as he realized who had come, he had to force himself to believe it.
Cilian Globus…leading a force of Alliance battleships. All of them launching fighters, even as he watched on the display.
It took some time for the Confederation force to receive the communique and respond, but when they did, the message was defiant. “Alliance vessels, you are in Confederation space without permission, in express violation of the treaties of alliance between our nations. You have committed an act of war, and I order you to stand down at once and prepare to be boarded.”
Barron was impressed at the fortitude of whoever was in command of the Confederation ships. It was someone with almost fanatical bravery
Or someone with no knowledge at all of Palatians and their ways.
“We are here to assist our friend and ally, and you are seeking to destroy one of your own ships, in violation of all tenets of honor. If the cost of standing with a
friend is battle, and the loss of a treaty and ally, then so be it. Honor calls. Let us fight…and to the death.”
Barron almost laughed. Globus was laying it on thick. He had no doubt the Palatian would fight to save Dauntless if he had to, but even with his honor codes and warrior heritage, he would avoid it if there was any way he could.
Not that it mattered. Barron had calculated the time until the Alliance fighters could reach Dauntless, and how long remained until the approaching strike force was in range. Globus’s ships would be at least ten minutes too late, even if Barron blasted his engines at full power.
His friend might avenge him—with tragic consequences for the Rim’s survival—but he wasn’t going to save him.
“Cilian,” he said into the comm, his voice grim. “You can’t get here in time, old friend. You have my thanks and eternal gratitude for attempting to help, but now heed my final request. The Confederation and the Alliance must stand together if the Hegemony is to be defeated. Do nothing here, even out of love for me, that would jeopardize that. It would be too terrible to die here, knowing I leave such tragedy behind.”
No answer. The Palatian didn’t respond. Instead, a moment later, he said, “Bomber squadrons…you are to veer off now. Do not attack Dauntless, or you will all be destroyed.” Barron knew it was no empty threat…twenty-four squadrons of Alliance fighters would obliterate the spent bombers. Not one of them would make it back to base. That was almost a tactical certainty.
Barron almost sent another message, another request for Globus to back off. But, then he began to understand what his friend was doing, the grand bluff that was underway.
The stakes were high…his life and that of everyone on Dauntless. But, it remained to be seen if the pilots would fold…or if they would call the bluff.
The seconds ticked by with no response, and the bombers continued to close. The Alliance fighters were moving in too, their courses changing slightly, a vector that would put them astride the bombers’ course back to their motherships.
Barron reached out and put his hand on top of Andi’s resting on his shoulder. The touch of her skin helped him, somehow, gave him energy…and perhaps even a sliver of hope. He imagined the strike commander leading his bombers in, and he wondered if the officer could want to kill him so badly, he’d sacrifice his life and those of all his pilots to do it. Barron had been a comrade until just a few weeks before, and his family name had been ingrained in navy history for four generations. Some of that had to remain in any officer’s mind.
Come on…come on…
Barron felt the spark of hope begin to slip away as the fighters loomed ever closer, their courses unchanged. Then, he saw something, a hitch on the display, the bombers slowing. A few seconds later, the full readings came in. The strike force was decelerating at something that looked a lot like full power.
They were pulling back!
Globus’s bluff, if indeed it had been a bluff—with Palatians one could never be sure—had worked.
Barron felt a wave of relief, and he turned and looked up at Andi, a brief smile slipping onto his lips, and matching the one she gave him.
“It’s confirmed, Tyler…the fighters are pulling back. And, the two battleships are signaling to Commander Globus that they will remain in place and recover their squadrons.” She paused, and he could hear her taking in a deep breath. “We made it. We made it.”
Barron nodded. Yes, we made it…to the far end of the Confederation, a dozen or more transits from the threatened border. But, his people had survived, for now. What future any of them had if the full strength of the Hegemony hit a naked and undefended border was another question.
Still, that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, he had a friend to thank, and that couldn’t wait any longer. He toggled the comm, directed the beacon toward the Alliance flagship. “It’s good to see you, old friend…and not a moment too soon. But, how did you knew we needed help?”
“We do have some spies, you know, my friend…and from the latest intelligence reports from Megara, I figured you might need help. It wasn’t too difficult to convince our friends at Archellia to let us through…and there wasn’t another base between the border and here that could do a thing to stop six battleships…though I fear we may left a few annoyed outpost commanders behind us.” Globus paused, and then he continued, “You have good friends at Archellia, Tyler, officers I believe will listen to what you have to say. Shall we go there now, before half the Confederation fleet shows up, and we find ourselves in a real fight here?”
Chapter Fifty-One
Battleship Danais
Barbaricum System 3658 (Rimdwellers System 1)
Year of Renewal 260 (316 AC)
Raketh sat quietly atop his pedestal, his mood grim. The lack of commentary or discussion from his four colleagues suggested they were feeling similarly. He’d had cause for satisfaction just hours before. He’d been tasked with finding the enemy’s homeworlds, and the population of the inhabited planet in the system left little doubt he had done just that. The planet was a frontier world, no doubt, much weaker than the core systems that likely lay beyond, but it was a significant population center nevertheless. His forces had engaged the planet’s defenses, and had the victory. The orbital forts had all been destroyed…and the enemy fleet had been battered and driven into retreat. He’d landed ground forces, and all reports suggested that the pacification of the planet was proceeding satisfactorily, despite some tougher than expected resistance.
Now, the enemy fleet he’d faced, the one he’d spared to race forward to complete his mission, had returned…and the remnants of the system’s original force were also moving back to engage. His own forces were badly depleted, the effect of multiple battles without reinforcements or resupply. The fighting around the planet, particularly against the large force of the enemy’s annoying small attack craft, had cost him many ships. He could engage both enemy forces…and most likely prevail. But the chance of victory, by his normally extremely accurate calculations, had slipped significantly below one hundred percent. There was significant risk to remaining and fighting a battle to the end. But, withdrawal would mean abandoning the ground forces.
They were, of course, almost all Kriegeri, and therefore, by their very nature, expendable. He’d landed six Masters as well, to direct combat operations, but he could recover them quickly if he decided to withdraw.
Or, he could load all the fleet’s masters onto Danais, and leave the rest of the ships behind with the Inferiors crewing them, with orders to fight to the death. The lower orders were many, and the loss of some thousands wouldn’t alter the Hegemony’s power structure in any meaningful way. And, the ships of his fleet were but a small fraction of those his people possessed. Perhaps that was the right course, to see the enemy fleets in the system destroyed—or nearly so—while ensuring no Masters were lost.
He almost issued the order, but he hesitated. The Hegemony’s Grand Fleet was massive, and the activation of even a portion of it would provide enough ships to invade the Rim. But, that would take time, and, until then, his forces were all the Hegemony had near the enemy. If his fleet survived, if he was able to sustain operations in the vicinity of the enemy border, he could scout, capture and interrogate hostages, build logistical bases in nearby systems…and prepare for the arrival of the inevitable invasion.
He considered the options in every way he could conceive. Tactically, strategically, logistically…it made sense to withdraw. In the end, his only concern was one of perception. He would be judged on what he did, and he feared some would view his motivations as deriving from cowardice instead of strategic insight. But, that couldn’t be helped. He had to do what he believed best…and that was to pull back, to maintain a fleet in being.
His forces would have to pass through the newly-arrived enemy fleet, and there would be renewed combat, certainly. But, if his forces blasted at full thrust, the duration of the fighting would be short, and his ships would quickly reach the transit point
and pass into the next system.
His analysis of the enemy suggested strongly that they would not attempt to follow.
He turned, first left and then right, glancing at the three women and one man in the room with him. “My colleagues,” he said calmly, clearly. “I have considered our options, and I request your thoughts on my pending decision. As in all things, I seek your honest and most detailed analysis.”
* * *
“They’re breaking orbit, Sara!” Sonya Eaton was clearly stunned, so much that she’d inadvertently dropped the formality she usually showed to her sister while on duty.
Sara Eaton turned toward the display, confirming what she’d just been told. For a moment, she thought the Hegemony ships were simply forming up, preparing to fight the two approaching Confederation forces. But, then every vessel in the enemy fleet blasted its engines at full, heading directly toward her own ships.
She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath, trying in every way she knew to stay calm. The fighting against the Hegemony had been some of the most brutal she’d ever seen, and even as she’d chased the enemy back to the Confederation, she hadn’t fully considered what it would be like to go back into battle against the deadly vessels.
“Sonya…I want those fighters launched now. Every bird we’ve got in this fleet.” A pause. “And tell Captain Stockton, we’re going to need him like never before.” If the enemy hit her line before the other ships in the system could get into the fight, she’d be at a big disadvantage…and she’d need everything Stockton could give her.
She’d received a communique from the other force. Admiral Winters was in command, and as her senior, that meant he was in charge of the battle. Their forces were still too far apart for that to have much meaning, the one minute forty second transmission time rendering real direction of the overall battle impossible. It would be some time until the ‘Sledgehammer’ got his ships back into range, and until then, the White Fleet was on its own, at least if the enemy continued heading right toward her position.