The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Thirty seconds,” said Shaw. He proceeded to countdown their alteredspace exit. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…”

  “O’Hara,” Sir Reginald spoke over the countdown. “Anything on our scopes, anything at all?”

  “Yes sir, there is an orbital platform around the planet, a half-dozen sentry ships, and a great deal of civilian traffic.”

  “But no sign of the enemy fleet?”

  “Not yet, sir. But they could be hiding.”

  “Stay vigilant,” he said. Knowing it wasn’t a matter of if the enemy fleet was lying in wait, but rather when they planned to emerge and trap Rook Squadron, tricked into believing it was the vanguard of the queen’s fleet.

  “Three. Two. One. We have arrived in the Olympia System and returned to normal space,” reported Shaw. Stars could be seen out the window, as well as the local sun. From this distance it looked like a very-bright golf ball. “Current position, three point two million mc’s from the Olympia star and one point six million mc’s from the planet.” The blue and white orb could be seen on the 3d display, it was the only planet in the system that wasn’t a gas giant and therefore bore no numerical designation.

  The 3d display shifted to show several starships begin to appear around the ISS Renown, in a tight formation. After a few seconds, the entire squadron was visible.

  “All ships have arrived in the system,” said O’Hara. “Still no sign of the enemy fleet.”

  “We have to move closer to the planet before they engage us,” said Sir Reginald, knowing that’s what he would do, if he had command of enemy force. “We have to take the cheese before the trap snaps shut. Very well, if they want a mouse, they’ll have one. General order to all ships, ready all weapons and set course for the planet, wedge formation.” He knew that, even though it was very dangerous for his squadron to maneuver into a trap, it was necessary for the plan.

  “Yes sir,” said Baudin as she relayed the order to the battlegroup.

  “Weapons ready, sir!” said Matthews. “Shields are double-strength forward.”

  “The squadron confirms, moving to wedge formation and beginning attack run on Olympia.”

  “Miss Baudin, send word via kataspace to the Black Swan. Inform the queen that we’ve arrived,” said Sir Reginald.

  She acknowledged and obeyed.

  As their ship turned and accelerated, moving quickly toward the planet, Sir Reginald kept his eyes on the 3d display. Its image changed to show the planet, which wasn’t yet close enough to be seen with the naked eye. A tiny set of lights was in slow orbit, undoubtedly the Olympia Platform.

  “Sir, we are being hailed by the orbital platform. They demand we heave-to and declare our intentions, shall I reply?”

  “Let them eat static,” said Sir Reginald. “Stay the course.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “Miss O’Hara, any movement yet?” asked Sir Reginald. “Are they springing the trap?”

  “Not that I can see, sir.”

  “What can you see? Tell me what’s going on out there.”

  “The orbital platform has raised its defenses and is scrambling its force of sentry ships and fighters. They seem to be organizing into a position within the platform’s shield radius.”

  “Are they any threat to us?” asked Sir Reginald.

  “No, sir. Altogether, including the platform’s weapons, they have a relative firepower of about four battleships. Since Olympia is so deep inside the Empire, the planet has barely any defenses at all.”

  “And you don’t see any other ships?” asked Sir Reginald, thinking the enemy was taking a serious chance by hesitating. Sure, the longer they waited the more effectively they’d trap Rook Squadron, but they were also running the risk that Olympia and its orbital structures would take fire.

  “No sir, not military ships,” said O’Hara. “There are a lot of civilian vessels but they have few weapons. The traffic has been redirected and the majority of civilian ships are moving to close orbit around the planet. A few are fleeing to the far side of the system, trying to jump away.”

  “Let them,” said Sir Reginald, not interested in civilian ships. He hadn’t come here to slaughter and plunder. That had been a pretense. He had no desire to attack Olympia. His job was to lure the Assembly’s fleet here and then withdraw. Nothing else.

  “What about you, Mister Klaus?” asked Sir Reginald. “Have you picked up any alteredspace signatures?”

  “No sir. The scopes are empty.”

  Strange, thought Sir Reginald. Strange indeed.

  “The squadron will be in weapons range of the orbital platform in twenty seconds,” said Matthews. “Shall I order target lock?”

  “We need to show them we’re not playing, but I don’t want to cause a slaughter,” said Sir Reginald. “Order all ships to switch targets to the orbital containers.”

  “Yes sir.” Baudin relayed the order.

  “Targets acquired,” said Matthews. “Container groups one through twenty-seven. All gunnery crews standing by.”

  “The squadron confirms order, changing targets,” said Baudin.

  Sir Reginald waited a moment, wanting to see if the enemy fleet would emerge from its hiding place as Rook Squadron closed-in on their new targets. Nothing seemed to be happening. Enough games, he thought. “General order to all ships, fire at will.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The main guns lit up. Flashes of energy brightened the space all around. After a second, the rest of the squadron joined their fire to that of the Renown. Shredding cargo containers like bullets through butter. Sir Reginald watched the fireless explosions of dust and shrapnel on the display.

  After a full minute of unhindered destruction, he ordered a ceasefire.

  “All ships confirm, holding fire,” said Baudin.

  “Report,” said Sir Reginald.

  “Seven-thousand, six-hundred and fifty-six targets confirmed destroyed,” said O’Hara. “Over eleven percent of the entirety of Olympia’s orbital cargo.”

  That must have gotten their attention, thought Sir Reginald. “We’ve poked the hive, now where are all the bees?”

  “Sir, there are no bees,” said O’Hara. No ships are emerging from any gravity well. The orbital platform remains on full alert and its garrison of sentry ships is in a defensive posture. But no other military ships can be seen anywhere, other than ours.”

  Could it be? Sir Reginald wondered. Had they been made? Had their enemy seen through their ruse? If so, had it been his fault? Did he and his squadron fail to appear threatening enough?

  “What about alteredspace?” he asked desperately. “Mister Klaus, please tell me you’ve got something on our scopes.”

  “Nothing but empty space,” Klaus said regretfully. “Sir, I don’t believe anyone’s coming.”

  Sir Reginald was starting realize that their operation had been a failure. He tried to think of what to do.

  “Sir, what are your orders?”

  He didn’t answer at first. Racking his brain for any way he could salvage the situation. Perhaps if he stopped pretending to be a threat, and actually did some real damage to Olympia, then maybe the enemy fleet would race to the scene.

  “Sir?”

  “Tell all ships to stand down and withdraw from the system,” he said after a brief pause. He knew deep inside that he couldn’t make himself attack Olympia. He refused to be the architect behind the first slaughter of the war. “Notify the Black Swan that the enemy fleet is not in Olympia. The plan has failed. Tell the queen I will apologize to her in person.”

  ***

  Kalila was on the bridge of the Black Swan when they got the bad news.

  “The Renown reports no sign of the enemy at Olympia,” said the comms chief. “Sir Reginald says the plan has failed, that somehow the enemy fleet has seen through the ruse, and they could be anywhere.”

  Kalila let out a quiet sigh. Wondering, where the hell are they? And, why didn’t the feint work? She’d planned every detail me
ticulously. She’d made sure to only involve her most trusted subordinates. How did it go wrong?

  “Tell the Renown and the rest of Rook Squadron to jump for the Apollo Yards immediately,” said Kalila. There wasn’t any further use in having twenty-seven of her ships away from the rest of the fleet.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said the comms chief. He relayed the order.

  “I trust, you realize it will take them at least nine hours to reach the Apollo Yards,” said Adiger in a hushed tone as he stood beside her.

  “Of course I realize it,” she snapped, “the distance between Olympia and the Apollo Yards was a crucial element of the plan.” She knew that Rook Squadron would not be able to assist in the battle. The entire point had been for them to keep the enemy fleet from taking part either by luring them to Olympia. Now, though, it was anyone’s guess where they were, and what would happen.

  “My apologies, Your Majesty,” said Adiger.

  “For the time being, we’ll have Rook Squadron move toward the fleet,” said Kalila. “And then, when all of this is over, we’ll send them new coordinates for rendezvous. With any luck the enemy fleet is still too far away to intervene and it won’t make a difference.

  “Hopefully,” said Adiger, though he looked doubtful.

  “We will exit alteredspace in just over one minute,” reported the chief navigator. “Along with the rest of the fleet.”

  “We have to make a decision,” said Adiger. “Do we continue or abort?”

  “We continue,” said Kalila, decisively. They were mere seconds away from the Apollo System. By now the Apollo outposts would surely have picked up the massive number of alteredspace signatures converging on them. If Kalila’s fleet didn’t attack the Apollo Yards now, they’d never have a better chance. They’d given away that the Apollo Yards were their target, Caerwyn and his forces would make certain to defend the Yards with extreme diligence from now on. “If we’re to have any hope of surprise attack,” she added. “It has to be now.”

  “Yes that is so,” admitted Adiger. “But what of the enemy fleet? It could be anywhere? It could be closing in on the Apollo System as we speak.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Captain,” said Kalila. Profoundly wishing she knew the position of the enemy fleet, which by all accounts was as strong as her own force, perhaps even stronger. “But if we don’t take the Yards, then this war is already over anyway. If the enemy controls the Yards, then our core systems are in danger. And we can’t hope to defend them while still fielding a force capable of attack.”

  Adiger nodded. “Then we must stay the course.”

  “Yes, we must.”

  “The Fleet has begun to arrive at the Apollo System,” said the ops chief.

  “The Black Swan will exit alteredspace in four, three two, one. We have arrived,” said the chief navigator.

  The many windows of the vast bridge filled with stars as well as the lights and shadows of seemingly countless ships in all directions, with more appearing every second.

  “Sixty-percent of the fleet has arrived,” said the ops chief. “Now sixty-five. Now seventy-three.”

  “What do we see?” asked Kalila.

  “The Apollo Yards are lit up, I count a few dozen warships—looks like standard patrols,” said the ops deputy chief.”

  “Any sign of the enemy fleet?” asked Kalila.

  “No, Your Majesty. Not beyond the system’s normal defense. At least, not as far as I can see.”

  “What about en route to the system?”

  “I detect no inbound alteredspace signatures.”

  That’s a good sign, thought Kalila.

  “Your Majesty,” reported the ops chief. “Our entire fleet has arrived.”

  “The command ships for each battlegroup are requesting orders,” said the comms chief. “All groups report in formation.”

  “Order Hammerfist Squadron to commence attack on the Apollo Yards right away,” said Kalila. “Remind them they must be swift.”

  “Aye, aye,” the comms chief relayed the message.

  “The rest of the fleet is to move to a defensive position and protect Hammerfist at all costs.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Well, I looks like we’ve gotten lucky,” she said, turning to Adiger. “The enemy fleet might well be on its way, but they won’t get here in time—not if we do this right.”

  “The enemy fleet might already be here,” said Adiger. “There are enough gravity wells in this system to hide every ship in the galaxy.”

  It was true, Kalila knew. She wasn’t an expert on starship sensors but it was common knowledge that large sources of gravity had a way of concealing a starship from detection if it was close enough, and the Apollo System had more gravity wells than any other system in the Empire—eight stars rotating around their common center of mass. A virtually infinite number of hiding places.

  I hope you’re wrong, she thought as she looked into Adiger’s worried eyes. But a part of her—the part that had learned to expect the worst—feared he was right. That the enemy was already here. Just waiting. Even though they shouldn’t have known her fleet was coming.

  “Message to all battlegroups, order them to exercise extreme caution,” said Kalila. “Warn them there’s a chance the enemy fleet is already here. Hiding in the gravity wells.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, relaying message.”

  “And if the enemy does come pouring out of those gravity wells, what then?” asked Adiger.

  Kalila’s eyes flicked to the 3d display which showed a huge cluster of starships soaring toward their targets. A wedge of troop transports, escorted by the many warships of Hammerfist Squadron, split off from the rest, heading directly for the Apollo Yards, while the majority of the fleet moved to a more central position, ready to intercept any threat to Hammerfist.

  “We continue our mission,” said Kalila, her tone as firm as metal. She knew exactly what was at stake. “If the enemy still controls the Apollo Yards when tomorrow comes, then all hope is lost.”

  Chapter 25

  “That appears to be all of them,” said Commander Junius. He stood near the ops control station examining the various displays.

  “How many are there?” asked Virgil Prime, genuinely curious.

  “Looks like several hundred,” said Commander Junius. “Comparable to our strength.”

  “My readings concur with the Commander,” said the ops chief. “Scans have successfully identified six-hundred and fifty-eight warships and three-hundred and thirteen support ships—including fifty-six troop transports.”

  “What is their formation?” asked Virgil Prime.

  “They are deployed into two main groups. The main force is in a defensive cluster, moving to a central location in the system, and the smaller force—about a hundred ships—is moving quickly toward the Apollo Yards. All of the troop transports are with the smaller group, I think they mean to disable and capture the Yards.”

  “So it would seem,” said Virgil Prime. “Has there been any indication that they know we are here?”

  “Not yet. The enemy fleet has begun acquiring targets but they seem completely focused on the Yards and the local patrol ships. No sign that we’ve been detected.”

  “Sir,” interrupted the comms chief. “Incoming message from Commodore Farooq, she is requesting orders.”

  “Tell her to deploy her defenses as she normally would,” said Virgil Prime. “Remind her that, for the time being, we aren’t here.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the comms chief. He relayed the message.

  “Admiral,” said Commander Junius as he returned to the XO’s chair. “I suggest we move against them before they’re five-hundred thousand mc’s from the Yards. And then we need to focus on hitting the smaller group first, especially those troop transports. We can’t risk losing the Yards.”

  “Patience, Commander,” said Virgil Prime. “Not yet. Not until the opportune moment.” He knew that the One True God wanted this battle to be as d
evastatingly chaotic as possible. Which meant he wouldn’t engage the enemy fleet until it was virtually impossible for the queen and her ships to withdraw. Not just in spite of the additional casualties his force would take but because of them.

  “Yes, sir,” said Commander Junius. He looked eager to unleash the fleet and strike against the renegade queen. His conviction surprised Virgil Prime, considering that they’d taken a side only recently. Virgil Prime had waited until he knew what the One True God wanted, he then reasoned which side he must join in order to ensure that end and then sworn himself and his fleet to the Steward of the Empire and the Assembly. Not that oaths to humans had any particular meaning…

  Since then Virgil Prime—who everyone wrongly believed was Fleet Admiral Virgil Tiberon—had been given overall command of the Steward’s entire fleet. Seven-hundred warships and three-hundred support ships. A powerful force that would serve the One True God well.

  “Have all divisions standing by,” said Virgil Prime. “We will move against Queen Kalila soon, but not yet.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “Damn, it sure is lucky we were here,” said Commander Junius.

  “Indeed,” said Virgil Prime, knowing it hadn’t been luck at all but rather the majestic machinations of the One True God’s plan being fulfilled.

  Of course Junius didn’t know that. Nor did any of the humans. They were mere puppets on the stage, ignorant of the strings that moved them about. We are all puppets, thought Virgil Prime. And we are all lucky to be puppets. Even those that fancied themselves puppet masters were puppets. When the Steward of the Empire and his Minister of Strategy had ordered Virgil Prime to gather the fleet and prepare to attack the Queen’s core worlds, neither of them had any idea that the One True God would deliver the queen and her forces into their hands. Indeed, even Virgil Prime had been ignorant when he’d commanded the forces to gather at the Apollo Yards. At the time, he’d thought he’d given that order because it was the most logical place to gather and prepare to strike. But now he saw plainly that it hadn’t been his will at all, nor his idea, it had been the will of the One True God. Whose majestic ways were far more beautiful, and more perfectly designed, than any mortal could fathom. Including Virgil Prime.