Dauntless

by Jay Allan

  If he didn’t help, Banister and Sector Nine would destroy him. And there was a good chance the Confederacy would face an even harsher peace if the Union was able to deploy their new weapons and gain the upper hand along the front.

  “I’ll try,” he said, feeling uncertain even as he did.

  “You will succeed, Senator. I am confident. The stakes are high…for all of us.”

  Banister didn’t articulate the threat again, but Garabrant understood perfectly. Get it done, and preserve his power, and enough wealth to last his entire life. Or fail…and face disgrace, arrest, imprisonment. Even death.

  “I’ll find a way, Mr. Banister.” He had no idea how, but he knew he had to get it done.

  “You have my every confidence, Senator.”

  * * *

  Gary Holsten stepped out of the shuttle onto the hard metal of the deck. His legs were sore, his back was sore…every centimeter of him was sore. It was a long trip from Grimaldi to Megara, at least it was when the head of Confederation Intelligence wasn’t aboard, demanding maximum acceleration/deceleration and anything else that would cut a few hours off the trip. Even with the dampeners, more than two weeks of carrying around the equivalent of three or four times his bodyweight left him feeling like he’d been run over by a heavy transport.

  “I got your signal, sir, but I didn’t really believe it. Your passage from Grimaldi must be a record.” Shane Darvin stood a few meters from the shuttle in the otherwise empty bay. There were no technicians, no stewards, no one else. It was an abnormal sight in almost every circumstance, save perhaps, when the head of Confederation Intelligence wanted to get back to the capital without anyone knowing.

  “All I want to do is go to bed, Shane. Have you ever tried to sleep at 4g acceleration?”

  The bay was almost silent, save for the soft hiss of the shuttle’s engines. Even the pilot and crew remained in the small ship, ready to take off again as soon as Holsten cleared the bay. Officially, they weren’t there at all.

  They were his own people, with top clearances, but it was still safer having them off Megara and on their way back out of the system, where they wouldn’t be reachable or subject to calls to attend Senate hearings or to cooperate with enforcement agencies outside Holsten’s control. Something was going on in the capital, and Holsten intended to find out what it was, and do something about it. He was prepared to cross certain lines, something best done with the knowledge of as few people as possible.

  “I have additional information, sir. I believe we should discuss it at once.”

  Holsten forced a smile to his lips. “Of course, Shane. I was just joking about going to bed.” Well, not exactly joking, he thought, struggling to suppress a yawn. “I assume this bay is secure?”

  “It is, sir. But I think perhaps we should get back to headquarters before we say too much.” The agent looked around, more an instinctive impulse, Holsten figured, than an actual belief the secure bay had been somehow infiltrated. “The Sector Nine presence on Megara is far larger than we thought, sir.” Darvin lowered his voice and leaned toward Holsten. “And I’m afraid its tentacles reach into the Senate itself, far more deeply than we had thought at first.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Holsten walked toward the main hatch leading out of the bay, extending his arm behind the agent and nudging him forward as well. “I’m sure the bay is clear of surveillance devices, but there is no harm in going back to my office before we get in any deeper. Did you arrange discrete transport?”

  “Yes, sir. There is a car waiting in the secure sub-level. We can avoid any chance of your being seen.”

  Holsten nodded. His position as the head of Confederation Intelligence was far from general knowledge to most of the Confederation’s people, who saw him only as a staggeringly wealth heir and dissolute playboy…but Sector Nine knew exactly who he was, and keeping his presence on Megara a secret might just give him an edge.

  The hatch opened as the two men approached, and Holsten led the way through, toward a single elevator. He stepped in, and as soon as Darvin had followed, he said, “Sub-level three.”

  “That location is restricted. Please provide code for access.”

  “Code alpha-two-three-sigma-nine-four-three.”

  “Access code recognized. Retinal scan confirmed. Welcome back to Megara, Director Holsten.”

  Holsten just nodded. The AI didn’t need any acknowledgement, and it wouldn’t take offense at being ignored. Though he wondered for an instant if he shouldn’t have let Darvin provide the code. The AI should be impenetrable, but excess caution wasn’t the worst thing he could have working for him right now.

  The car began to drop, accelerating sharply for a few seconds before it came to an abrupt halt, and the doors opened again.

  The two men walked out into the underground garage, right up to a large transport. It was black and non-descript—to all external views, the type of conveyance that could be carrying any well-off executive or government official. And, if anyone traced the car’s ID beacon, they would find it registered to a moderately-sizing mining firm, one specializing in squeezing a few extra years of productivity from nearly-spent mines abandoned by the large combines. It was as boring an entity as Holsten had been able to invent, and wherever a deep analysis of it might lead, it wouldn’t be to him, nor to Confederation Intelligence.

  Which was good…since as far as anyone else on Megara knew, he was still on Grimaldi, sending out regular communiques from his office on the station. He’d written enough of them to last a month, which should be enough time to find out what was going on…what Sector Nine was up to on Megara. And to do something about it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AFS Vexillum

  Alliance Flagship

  Altarna System

  Alliance Year 64 (313 AC)

  “We have lost three systems, Your Supremacy. By all accounts, our border forces have fought well—and, in most cases, to the death—but they have been massively outnumbered in every engagement. Many of them were old reserve units, their weapons and systems quite outdated.”

  “Yes, Commander…I have read the reports.” Vennius was grim. He had been sitting in his office in near-darkness, contemplating or brooding, depending on how one chose to define it, when Globus had come in.

  “Sir…I understand how you feel about your—our—debt to the Confederation, but there is too much at stake here, perhaps even the very survival of the Alliance. The defense of Palatia is sacred, Your Supremacy. It supersedes all other considerations, even obligations of honor. We must recall at least some of the forces sent to aid the Confederation.”

  Vennius felt a burst of anger at being pressed on the issue again, but he pushed it back. Globus had been far less insistent than some, and, if he was being honest with himself, voices in his own mind were pushing him to do exactly the same thing. A dark pit had opened in his inner thoughts, a chasm of despair…images of Palatia fallen, of Krillian soldiers setting foot on the home world’s sacred ground.

  No, the Krillians could never conquer Palatia. Every school child would take up arms to defend the homeland…but with the defenses in their current state, the Krillians could just bomb it to oblivion.

  The loss of Palatia would be the end of the Alliance, of his people. Many Palatians would survive offworld, of course, but they would be scattered, lost. And Tarkus Vennius would be remembered as the Imperator who had led his people to doom. If he was remembered at all.

  “Sit, Cilian.” Vennius gestured toward one of the chairs in the room. “Please.”

  Globus walked toward the Imperator and sat next to him, wordlessly.

  “We face a great challenge, my friend, and it is my shame to acknowledge that I did not see it coming. My arrogance led me astray. I thought our neighbors feared us too much to seek to take advantage of momentary weakness…and I underestimated the strength of the Krillians.” He looked up at Globus, a man he called his friend as well as his comrade. “I received a communique from Co
mmander Tulus this morning. The fleet has set out with the Confeds. They are launching an attack on the Bottleneck, even as we sit here.”

  Globus stared back for a second before he responded. “They have already set out?”

  “Yes. Calling back a portion of the force now would compel the commander to withdraw from the combined force just before battle, when our Confederation allies were counting on their presence. It would be twice the dishonor, a rank betrayal of those who stood by us.”

  Globus sat silently, taking a deep breath. It was clear he didn’t know what to say.

  “And, Cilian…with the fleet on its way to Union space, the distance back here is that much longer. The Krillians would reach Palatia before Commander Tulus could get any units here. It is too late. Even if we chose the path of dishonor, we would do so to no avail.” He paused and looked into his friend’s eyes, sure his weakness was obvious in his own. “We must stop the Krillians, Cilian, and we must do it with what we have here. Normally, I would say, let them advance, let them throw themselves into Palatia’s unbeatable defenses.”

  “But those defenses are gone.”

  “Yes…Commodore Barron and his forces obliterated the fortresses, and we have not had time to rebuild them. Palatia is wide open, Cilian. We are all that stands between the home world, and those who would come to destroy it.”

  “Then, we must defeat the Krillians, Your Supremacy…with what we have here. And the sooner, the better. I would see us set out to meet the enemy, not hang back waiting for them to reach the home world.”

  “My thought exactly, Commander.” There was a rush of energy in his voice. He leaned to the side, his hand tapping the small comm unit. “Commander Severus. The fleet will be advancing within the hour. All ships are to be ready to transit to Intarus.”

  “Yes, Your Supremacy.”

  Vennius closed the line and looked back at Cilian. “We will follow the way. We will fight as Palatians.” He tried to push away the weakness he felt, embrace the small wave of strength that came from making a firm decision, but age and fatigue bore down on him from all sides. “I need your help, Cilian, my friend. I am old, weak. I have one last battle in me, but I fear the warrior I was in my younger days is no more.”

  “Nonsense, Your Sup…Tarkus. There is no warrior I would choose to follow into this fight, save for the man sitting at my side right now.”

  Vennius appreciated the words. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but he worked to banish the doubt, and they helped. There were moments where a bit of well-placed delusion was helpful.

  * * *

  Marieles watched Krillus as he sat at the head of the conference table, his chair raised above all the others—of course. The council of war had been going on for more than an hour. The scout ships had confirmed the initial reports. An Alliance fleet was heading toward the system.

  That surprised exactly no one. The Alliance culture was a clear and simple one in many ways, and there was no doubt what their response would be to an invasion. Some nations might wait, they might fall back, seek to exhaust an enemy, stretch out his supply lines. They might even put out peace feelers, see if a wider war could be prevented. But the Alliance had only one way. Counterattack. Claim vengeance against those who invaded.

  Krillus hadn’t been any more surprised than his officers appeared to be, but Marieles thought she saw a tension that hadn’t been there before, a fear even his bluster couldn’t completely hide. He’d massed a great fleet, and she had to give him credit for the numbers of ships he’d managed to build over the years, apparently in secret. The Krillian fleet was more powerful than she’d dared to expect…and considerably larger and heavier than the Alliance force en route. But the Palatians were a warrior culture, and the Krillians, though descended from conquerors, had become decadent and soft over the past several generations. They wielded power, but Marieles wasn’t sure it was enough to defeat even an outnumbered Alliance force.

  “Great and Terrible Krillus, perhaps we should withdraw back across the border, take up position in one of our fortified systems? We can test the Alliance, see if they will follow us into Krillian space…and we can engage them supported by our own fortresses.”

  Marieles felt a burst of tension. The suggestion made sense, at least as far as her tactical knowledge extended, but it didn’t serve her purposes. She needed the pressure kept on the Alliance. She was about to say something to poke at Krillus’s pride, when he relieved her of the need to do so.

  “Do you think we cannot face the Palatians, Tectus, though we outnumber them and outgun them? Do you believe they are better than us, that we lack the skill, the courage, the leadership, to prevail?” He emphasized the last word, practically daring any of his officers to respond.

  Marieles almost joined the discussion. The words were on her lips, but she remained silent. Her presence at the meeting suggested a certain amount of favor at the moment, but she decided discretion was the wiser course, and she remained silent. Until Krillus pulled her into it.

  “Ambassador, what are your thoughts?”

  She froze for a moment, wondering if he was about to go into one of his abrupt mood swings. She wanted to him to stand, of course, to face the Alliance, but she wasn’t sure how best to reach that goal. If she urged aggressive action, he was as likely to see it for what it was: action beneficial to the Union, whether or not the Krillians prevailed.

  “It is not for me to decide, Great and Terrible Krillus. There can be little doubt I would wish to see you face the Alliance, our shared enemy, nor can there be any question of my confidence in your abilities. But it is for you to decide and no other. You are from a line of conquerors; the blood of heroes flows in your veins. If you think it wise to pull back, to allow the Alliance to undo all that has been done in your grand invasion, then so be it.” She went a little farther than she’d intended. But she knew Krillus was sensitive about comparisons to his predecessors, and she’d wanted to insert that dynamic into his mind.

  “Do you hear that?” Krillus glared at the men and women around the table. “Our esteemed ambassador has her own interests to pursue, no doubt, but still, hers is the council of a lion and not a sheep. Would my great-grandfather have crawled back to the cover of his fortresses, leaving behind all he had conquered? Think you, I am lesser than he? That I cannot lead my fleet to victory over the Alliance forces?”

  The room was silent. No one dared to challenge Krillus, whatever their true thoughts.

  “We will fight. We will destroy that tiny Alliance fleet. We will crush the Palatians, and then we will advance to their home world…and reduce it to radioactive ash.”

  He paused a moment, looking across the room, seemingly at something only he could see. And my legacy shall surpass yours for all time, grandfather…

  * * *

  “We are heavily outnumbered, Your Supremacy.” Globus’s words were a statement of fact, and nothing more. The Imperator had committed the fleet to battle, and that was the only consideration to a Palatian warrior. The time for debate, for analysis of the enemy’s strength had passed. Still, for all his experience and training, the fleet’s second-in-command couldn’t help but realize the importance of the struggle about to begin. For sixty years, the Alliance had been on the offensive, their fleets pushing into enemy space, conquering worlds, while behind them, the sacred home planet lay safe behind an array of massive fortresses.

  Those forts were gone now, blasted to scrap by the superior range of the Confederation primary batteries, and Palatia now stood open, almost undefended against an attack from space. If the fleet failed to stop the Krillians here, the Alliance—at least as Globus had known it his whole life—would be gone. The main fleet, if it survived the battle in Union space, would return to ruins, and a shame that would last to the end of the universe.

  “We have been outnumbered before, Commander. We have never allowed numbers to concern us.” Globus was impressed at the calmness in Vennius’s voice. His dedication to the Imperator was total
. He would fight at Vennius’s side, he would die there if need be, but even the confidence he felt in the man was insufficient to overcome his doubts. The Krillian fleet was not only larger, but the Alliance force was far from the elite of the Palatian service. Many of the ships Vennius had managed to assemble were old, hastily returned to service, and manned by retirees, brought back to the colors to face the crisis.

  They were warriors all, and committed to the fight, but Globus knew many would struggle. Age wore better on the top ranks, those who waged war sitting in chairs, issuing orders. But many of the vessels formed up around the flagship had aged warriors racing through corridors and crawling down access tubes. He didn’t doubt their courage, but he questioned whether they could match the standards they’d shown in their youth.

  “Of course, Your Supremacy. Every warrior in this fleet will stand against the enemy…and fall, if need be.” It was an empty statement. Sacrifices could be made in defeat as well as victory.

  “It is time, Commander.” Vennius was looking up at the display. “We will be in range in moments. All ships are to prepare for battle.”

  “Yes, sir.” Globus turned and relayed the command. “Will you address the fleet, Your Supremacy?”

  Vennius looked hesitant for a moment, the fatigue Globus knew the Imperator felt inside showing for just an instant. “Yes, Commander.”

  Globus turned and snapped off an order to the communications officer. Then he turned back toward the command station. “On your line, Your Supremacy.”

  Vennius didn’t speak immediately. He stared down at the deck, seeming uncertain. Then, Globus could see his strength rallying. Vennius looked up and put his hand to the microphone on his headset.

  “Warriors of the fleet, this is your Imperator. We are about to go into battle, as we have so many times. This fight is different than those that have come before. We stand now without many of our comrades at our sides, men and women who are with the expeditionary force, fulfilling our honor debt to our Confederation allies. For this reason, and because of the losses we endured during the civil war, we face a more difficult struggle here. But we are Palatians, and such things mean exactly nothing. We will fight here, and we will prevail, whatever the cost or sacrifice necessary. I am your Imperator, warriors, and I am here with you. I shall lead you into the battle and fight at your sides…until the enemy is defeated. Until they are destroyed.”