Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon

by Glynn Stewart

  Tranquility System

  08:25 September 19, 2735 ESMDT

  SFG-001 Actual – Falcon-C type command starfighter

  Ten minutes. They’d been in the system barely ten minutes.

  Michael could hardly believe it, but he doubted his computers were so broken as to give him the wrong time. In ten minutes, Avalon and her fighters had destroyed the equivalent of an entire star system’s navy. Hell, a lot of systems were enough poorer than, say, Tranquility that they couldn’t afford a fleet of three capital starships.

  Of course, Tranquility didn’t have a fleet of three starships anymore. One of their two remaining ships was in a dry dock space station tucked underneath the immense rings around the planet. Despite everything that had happened already, that station was still vulnerable.

  There were still, after all, roughly a hundred Commonwealth Scimitar-type fighters in the system. The ships were primarily interceptors, armed with lighter missiles and positron lances than his own ships, but between them they would still be able to overwhelm the dry dock’s defenses and see Mauna destroyed before it was deployed against the Commonwealth.

  Which was why Michael was leading every fighter of SFG-001 in a deep dive towards the planet. If they were lucky, they could intercept the Commonwealth ships before they attacked the space station. If they were even luckier, the Commonwealth starfighters would come out to meet him and leave the station for later.

  “Commonwealth starfighters,” he transmitted. “You are a long way from home. You spent your munitions on Tranquility’s defenders, and your carriers are dead.”

  “The Federation is here to defend Tranquility,” he continued calmly. “My ships are fresh. We have full munition loads.” Well, less the salvo that had killed one of the carriers, but no need to rub that in. “Your only sane option is to surrender before I am forced to kill you all.”

  There they were. Michael was still receiving relayed telemetry from the surface, and Tranquility’s satellite network had detected the Commonwealth fighter group. They were cutting through the outer ring, staying just inside the debris field and taking the inevitable damage to try and sneak up on him.

  “All ships, prep a Starfire salvo,” he ordered. “Downloading targets from TSF Command.”

  There was enough of a delay, despite the Q-com and the short distance, that he couldn’t hit them with lances, but the Starfires were smart enough to close in if he got them anywhere near them.

  “Fire!” he ordered. Over a hundred and fifty missiles blasted into space, closing in on where he knew the Terran ships were hiding.

  “Sir, incoming transmission!” his Flight Engineer reported. “Voice-only, he’s sending it omni-directionally. Linking it through now.”

  “To the commander of the Federation starfighters,” a clipped voice with a heavy accent began. “I am Wing Colonel Jakob Mbuntu, commanding the survivors of the Commonwealth strike groups.”

  “To prevent further loss of life on all sides, if you will guarantee the safety of my men and women under the honor of the Federation Navy, I offer the complete surrender of the forces under my command.”

  There was, Michael supposed, a chance it was a trick. Nonetheless…

  “Suspend the missiles,” he ordered. “Shut down their drives but hold them until it’s too late for them to engage before detonating the failsafes. Then get me a link to this Colonel Mbuntu.”

  Moments passed, with the Federation missiles now sliding ballistically through space – but still on course for Mbuntu’s fighters.

  Finally, a channel opened, showing a heavyset black man strapped into his own chair and facing the camera.

  “Wing Colonel Mbuntu?” Michael asked.

  “I am,” he said simply. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “I am Wing Commander Michael Stanford, commanding SFG-001 off of Avalon,” Michael told him. “My terms are simple, Colonel. You and your men will activate your emergency ejection pods and set a course for the surface. Tranquility SAR will retrieve you, but I will guarantee your safety under the honor of the Federation Navy.”

  Mbuntu seemed to hesitate. Ejecting would leave his starfighters – with all of their technology and computer cores – available for retrieval. It was a cost of his surrender he had to have expected, but it would still go against the grain.

  “Colonel, every minute you and I are pointing missiles at each other is a minute Tranquility cannot launch SAR spacecraft to try and find all of both our people,” Michael said softly. “Let’s bring this to an end, shall we?”

  The big man nodded sharply, once.

  “It will be done,” he answered.

  40

  Tranquility System

  21:00 September 19, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  Tranquility Space Fleet Orbital Dock

  First Prelate Savitri Joshi of the Tranquility High Council looked far too young to be the head of state for an entire star system. Kyle admitted, at least to himself, that her faded brown skin, black eyes and long-braided hair could easily throw his guess off by a decade or more.

  He bowed slightly as she entered the conference behind two very competent men in dark burgundy combat armor. They swept the rooms with eyes, implants, and hand-held scanners before letting her join him next to the table.

  Before he could say anything, Joshi took his hands in hers and bowed deeply over them.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I fear for what fate Tranquility would have faced.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, retrieving his hands with as much grace as he could manage. The First Prelate’s closeness made him very aware of the frank way her tailored suit, the same dark burgundy as her guards’, framed her figure, and the slightly spicy scent of her perfume.

  Kyle cleared his throat carefully, and then caught a spark of a smile in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he wondered for a moment how many of Savitri Joshi’s political opponents had been thrown by her beauty – and ended up thrown to the wolves.

  “I wish we had arrived earlier,” he told her. “Had we arrived earlier, we could have saved more lives. I am sorry that we didn’t arrive in time to save Admiral Wu. He seemed a good man.”

  “He was. But things happen as they happen, Captain Roberts,” Joshi reminded him. “Had you not arrived at all, my world would now bow to Terra, and I have sworn to my people that this will not happen.”

  Kyle was saved from further awkwardness by the arrival of a gaunt, gray-haired man with another burgundy-clad guardsman – Tranquility’s Director of Intelligence – followed immediately afterwards by Kelly Mason.

  “Are we expecting anyone else, Madame Prelate?” he asked. He and Kelly were still up to their necks in trying to get Avalon’s many damages seen to, but when the local head of state asks you to attend a meeting, you attend.

  “Mr. Richards and I are all,” she replied, gesturing for the three of them to sit. “He’s been keeping in the loop with Alliance Intelligence. I presume you haven’t had a chance to catch up on the briefs?”

  Kyle sighed and shook his head. It had taken eight hours to complete the initial SAR sweep of the battlespace for survivors of both the Tranquility and Commonwealth battle groups, even with Avalon’s starfighters playing spotter.

  He’d kept Avalon out until that was complete, and then turned the task over to the Tranquility Orbit Guard when they’d finally brought in half a dozen sublight sloops to serve as bases for the search. They’d only been docked at the space station for an hour when Joshi’s request for their attendance had arrived.

  “If you would care to give us the highlights, Keith,” Joshi told her intelligence head.

  The sparse man gave the First Prelate a small bow as he stepped up to the head of the table. A holographic presentation of the new front line appeared over the table, called into place by the director’s implant.

  “Operation Puppeteer, from the Alliance’s perspective, has been a barely mitiga
ted disaster,” he said bluntly. Eight systems flashed red on the hologram. “The Commonwealth hit us in each of these eight systems, including Tranquility, with between four and eight starships each.”

  “With the exception of Tranquility and Waterdeep, all of the systems have now fallen to the Commonwealth,” he continued. “We were still far more out of position than we hoped, and losses on both sides have been heavy. The current estimate is that we lost twenty-six starships and the Commonwealth has lost twenty-eight.”

  That was ten percent of the combined Alliance fleets. The Commonwealth could afford its losses better – after all, they had over a hundred fully industrialized systems versus the Alliance’s sixty-odd. Many of which were only industrialized by the loosest of definitions.

  “What about Midori?” Kyle asked, noticing that the system with the big Alliance fleet base wasn’t highlighted.

  “From what Federation Intelligence has extracted from Achilles’ data cores, the survivors of all the remaining strike groups will be moving on Midori within thirty-six hours,” Richards said quietly. “Assuming they leave their more damaged vessels to garrison the seized systems, they will move on Midori with four battleships, three cruisers, and seven fleet carriers. Fourteen starships. A joint Federation-Imperial battle fleet is mustering in the system as we speak, and should match the Commonwealth’s numbers when they arrive.”

  “Tranquility herself will remain in Midori until the battle there is resolved,” Joshi informed Kyle. “At that point, I am assured that Alliance forces will be dispatched to Tranquility to relieve Avalon, allowing you to return home.”

  “We will do what we can until then,” Kyle assured her. “We have some immediate repairs required, but as long as we can re-arm fighters, we can fight.”

  “I appreciate your courage, Captain,” the First Prelate told him. “Of course, any resources we can provide are yours for the asking. My entire world is in your debt.”

  “Do you have any idea when Mauna will be ready to deploy?” Kyle asked the two Tranquility leaders.

  “At least two weeks,” Richards said calmly. “At this point, it will be as quick to complete her refit as it would be to re-activate her at all, so the engineers wish to finish the job.”

  Kyle nodded, and was about to comment on the wisdom of the choice when the door to the conference room burst open.

  Despite the fact that there were at least two more of the burgundy-clad guards outside, all three of the bodyguards in the room had weapons out and trained on the intruder before Kyle had enough time to identify the out of breath woman as being in the Tranquility Space Force’s navy blue uniform.

  “I’m sorry, sirs, ma’ams,” the officer managed to get out between breaths. “We just received an urgent priority message from the Assistant Director of Intelligence. We’ve cracked the encryption on the starfighter computer cores we retrieved.”

  Avalon’s Captain watched the woman patiently, waiting for the other shoe that he knew had to be coming. The other shoe he had suspected since the moment the Commonwealth’s fighters had surrendered without a fight.

  “There’s a second wave coming,” he whispered, and the woman nodded as she regained her breath.

  “Yes, sir,” she concluded, offering a datapad that one of the guardsmen took from her. “All of the details are on the pad – she ordered me to deliver it immediately.”

  “Well done, Lieutenant-Commander Patil,” Joshi said calmly, and Kyle found himself missing the ability to pull people’s files at a glance he’d once had. “We will deal with this. Thank you.”

  Even as one of the guards was gently ushering Patil out of the conference room, the other was scanning the datapad for viruses and traps. Once assured that the device contained no dastardly schemes to assassinate the First Prelate, the guard flipped its main contents to the central hologram projector.

  The projector quickly resolved into the image of a slim woman with pale skin, reminding Kyle vividly of Admiral Sagacity Wu.

  “I am Assistant Director of Intelligence Jasmine Wu,” she announced, in a calm and precise voice that drove home the resemblance to the First Admiral. “There is a complete set of the data extracted from the Commonwealth computer cores attached to this file, but I will summarize for the sake of time.”

  “The Commonwealth does not intend to keep any of their top-line warships tied up in garrisoning the systems they have seized. A second contingent, of older ships with less proven crews, will be arriving in each of the first wave systems twenty-four to thirty-six hours after the initial assault.”

  “We’re still working on establishing an exact arrival time, but we have managed to identify the follow-up force intended for Tranquility: two Paramount class deep space carriers, with a total fighter strength of two hundred.”

  “We believe that their fighters will be Scimitars – the Commonwealth hasn’t deployed a seventh generation starfighter yet, but all of their ships have been fully equipped with the Scimitar.”

  “I will forward more details as we manage to resolve them. The full dump has been transmitted to Avalon, in case they wish to review it themselves.”

  The hologram ended, leaving the occupants of the conference room staring at the empty space above the table in shock.

  Finally, the First Prelate leaned back in her chair and met Kyle’s gaze across the table.

  “Captain, I appreciate your courage,” she repeated quietly, “but I will not ask you and your people to die in a hopeless battle.”

  Kyle smiled grimly.

  “Madame First Prelate, my mission is unchanged,” he told her, his voice equally quiet. “Avalon was sent to Tranquility to hold this system. I do not intend to simply cut and run.”

  “You cannot fight two hundred starfighters with forty!” she snapped. “There is no point.”

  “We can’t run, ma’am,” Kelly interrupted quietly. “The stunt we pulled getting in as close as we did burned out our Alcubierre Drive.”

  “My engineer can’t even give me an estimate on a timeline for repairs,” Kyle told Savitri Joshi with a sigh. “As Commander Mason says, we cannot run, and I refuse to blithely surrender your world to the Commonwealth. Avalon’s weapons may be gone, but we still have engines and a fighter wing. We can still fight.”

  “Your ship is already a legend, Captain,” Richards said softly, the old Director’s eyes sad. “Do you intend to make yourself a martyr to cap it?”

  “No,” Kyle replied. “I will request permission to offload my wounded and non-essential crew, just in case, but I have no intentions of dying to save Tranquility.

  “But by all that is holy, I will fight for it.”

  41

  Tranquility System

  23:55 September 19, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-001 Avalon – Main Flight Deck

  At almost ship’s midnight, less than sixteen hours after a major battle, Avalon’s Flight Deck was empty. Part of that tonight was the safety risk – in the end, they’d removed the carrier’s main airlock doors with explosives.

  The thin veil of glorified plastic wrap currently holding in the dock’s atmosphere had transparency and replaceability as its main virtues. It could withstand the pressure of an atmosphere, but a starfighter hitting it would rip it to shreds. Launch-work would be done in vacuum when the time came.

  For now, however, the plastic screen kept a breathable atmosphere on the deck while allowing Senior Fleet Commander Kyle Roberts to look out into space, at the glittering light show of Tranquility’s rings.

  It was a damn pretty planet and one, it turned out, that produced fantastic wine.

  Avalon’s Acting Captain wasn’t drunk, but he had made a significant dent in the bottle Joshi had pressed on him before he’d returned to the ship. It might well be his last opportunity to enjoy a glass of wine, for that matter.

  The Commonwealth second wave was due in-system at just after noon the next day. Part of him was hoping the wine contained some hidden drops of inspi
ration, because he still had no idea how he was going to fight two carriers, with a hundred starfighters apiece, with one functionally unarmed carrier with forty-two starfighters.

  “Somehow, I figured I’d find you here,” a voice said from behind him. Kyle looked up to see Michael Stanford slowly and carefully wheeling himself across the empty deck. “The wine is a surprise though. Willing to share?”

  Kyle waved magnanimously. “I think the set the First Prelate gave me had a second glass.”

  Michael checked in the wooden box and rolled his chair up to where Kyle sat cross-legged on the desk, offering the glass out for his Captain to pour.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be planetside by now?” Kyle asked. “I seem to recall ordering all of the wounded off of the ship.”

  “Yes, you definitely did that,” Michael replied, taking a sip. “Damn, I guess when a planetary head of state gives gifts, they give niice wine.”

  “Don’t dodge the subject with me, Wing Commander,” Kyle told him. “You shouldn’t have flown out today. If you think you’re going to fly out tomorrow, I will sic Kelly on you.”

  Michael sipped his wine, looking out at the ice ring floating in space in front of them.

  “Threatening a man with his girlfriend is a low blow,” he pointed out. “Who else would you trust to try and carry out whatever insane scheme you’re plotting?”

  “So you and Kelly are official now? Isn’t that rather… high school for a warship?” Kyle pointed out.

  “I can’t say,” Michael said slowly. “It’s not entirely un-trod territory for me, but it’s been a long damn time since I’ve been serious about anyone.” He shrugged. “That said, I figure that if I’m willing to get my legs crushed saving her life, we should probably give things a shot.”

  “Don’t look at me for relationship advice,” Kyle warned, making a somewhat overdramatic gesture with his wine glass that risked spilling the liquid. “I figured out I wasn’t cut out for the things shortly after I abandoned my pregnant girlfriend for the Navy.”