“Understood, Admiral,” the newly breveted Force Commander replied. “I presume you’ll want complete squadrons?”
“If you’ve got them,” Michael said cautiously. His own losses were scattered through his Wings, but he’d have a more functional weapon if he integrated two complete squadrons into his Group than if he tried to insert new fighter crews into his existing squadrons.
“Two of my squadrons took no losses,” she confirmed. “I’ll have them aboard Avalon as soon as we’re in orbit and they’ve managed to catch some sleep.”
“What about pursuit vectors?” Roberts asked. “Did we get a line on where Triumphant went FTL?”
“We did,” a shaven-headed man in a dark burgundy uniform unfamiliar to Michael replied. A quick implant query informed him the man was the Fleet Admiral commanding the Kematian Navy – and currently aboard one of the cruisers sweeping the debris for survivors.
“We got our drones into position before the bajingan warped space,” he continued. “Both Triumphant and the transports are on a vector for KG-779. It’s a brown dwarf system, nothing there, but it makes a useful navigation relay.”
“Captain Roberts,” Tobin directed his attention back to the Captain. “Have you had a chance to discuss the Alcubierre upgrade with Commander Wong?”
“I have,” the Captain replied. “And he and I both managed to raise Rear Admiral Klein, who’s running the upgrade project back on Castle.
“The reasons the upgrades aren’t being pushed to the entire Navy is that the speed boost is minimal,” he continued. “We’re talking one point one light years per day squared instead of one. It’ll add up, though. We won’t catch them at 779,” the Captain warned. “But we will catch them.”
That reassurance seemed to hit home as Michael saw a lot of nods and grim expressions that could charitably be called smiles on the wall.
“We’ll be in orbit of Kematian in five hours,” Tobin told the President. “We’ll transfer fighters and munitions as necessary, and drop most of Avalon’s small craft to assist in the search and rescue. By then, the convoy will also be inbound and set to rendezvous.
“I suggest that those of you can get what you rest you can,” the Federation Vice Admiral told his people, then glanced back to the Kematians. “Once we hit orbit, we’re all going to be very busy.”
Slowly, with a series of acknowledgements and final orders, the various screens winked out. When the screen faded back to plain metal at last, Roberts heaved a huge sigh of relief and turned his gaze on Stanford.
Somehow, despite everything, Roberts still looked energetic and engaged.
“Mira, go get some sleep,” he ordered, taking in the shattered state of the XO. “Belmonte should be back on duty in an hour, I can hold the fort down until then. I’ll need you fresh when we hit orbit.”
“What about you, sir?” she asked, and Michael was surprised by her gentle tone.
“Rank hath its privileges – in this case, stimulants – and its detriments – in this case, too many duties,” he replied cheerfully. “I’ll sleep once we’re en route out of the system. Go.”
With a quick nod to both men, the exec slipped out of the room, leaving the two friends sitting together.
“Starless Void, what a disaster,” Michael said quietly. “How bad, Kyle?”
“Twenty-four cities,” Roberts replied, his voice equally quiet. “Average population fifteen million. But that’s… being ignorant. One-gigaton explosions don’t just hurt what they destroy. Ash. Acid. Debris. The regions for a hundred kilometers around each impact are toxic death zones. Including the countryside and smaller cities in the debris zones and those overlaps…”
The big Captain sounded more tired than Michael had heard him since they’d thought they were going to die at Tranquility.
“Current estimates are at half a billion dead and rising,” he said simply. “If Mona Lisa arrives in time, they should be able to minimize the damage, but…” Roberts’ hand closed on an empty coffee mug, and threw it against the wall in a convulsive motion.
“Even minimized Kematian could see a billion dead from this massacre,” the big Captain snarled. “I could have stopped it. Should have argued harder. Dammit, Michael, we failed.”
“We couldn’t see this coming,” Michael objected. “The Commonwealth’s worst are usually the true believers, the ones willing to sacrifice anything for Unity – this is as Voids-cursed anathema to them as you or I.
“Even if Triumphant eludes us, the fucker won’t survive,” he told his friend. “Some of the higher ups might be willing to let it slide, but Starless Void knows Walkingstick is a true believer. This kind of blood doesn’t help their cause, and he knows it.”
“It changes nothing, Michael,” his Captain replied. “Half a billion and more dead. What’s revenge to that? What’s justice to that?”
“You’re not sleeping because you can’t, aren’t you?” Michael demanded. “This isn’t your Voids-cursed fault, Captain Kyle Roberts,” he snapped. “It isn’t even Vice Admiral bloody Tobin’s fault, though I bet you diamonds to donuts he’s fighting the same demon you are.”
Roberts quirked his lips in something that might have been a smile and bowed his head.
“I also have work to do,” he said. “But you’re not wrong.”
“Then let’s get to that work, boss,” Michael told him. “Because one thing I do know – justice may be a frail shield against something like this, but by all the Stars, I still plan on killing the son of a bitch who did it.”
21
Kematian System
10:00 January 1, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon Bridge
Avalon spent less than two hours in Kematian orbit, which was, in Kyle’s opinion, about three lifetimes too long.
About the only positive of antimatter warheads used on a planetary target was the lack of radiation. When cities powered by fusion and fission reactors were the target that was a moot point. Combined with the immense craters blasted most of the way through the planetary crust, the continent that had suffered the brunt of Triumphant’s anger was an uninhabitable hell-hole.
Hundreds of shuttles and aircraft braved the vicious hurricanes already forming across the entire planet to enter that hell-hole and bring people out. Unavoidably, not all of those craft survived their trips – which didn’t stop any of them.
There were still hundreds of millions of people in the affected zone. The massive effort being launched by Kematian’s people, now joined by the shuttles from Battle Group Seventeen, could save hundreds of thousands. Perhaps millions.
They couldn’t save everyone.
There was nothing Kyle could do from orbit to help, either. Avalon had sixty-four non-starfighter small craft of various sizes, almost all of them capable of search and rescue. He’d kept eight of the mid-sized twenty thousand ton rescue tugs and sent the remaining ships down to help the planet. The desperate attempt to rescue anyone could use everything from the dozen five thousand ton SAR shuttles to his pair of hundred thousand ton drone tenders.
“All the fighters from Camerone are aboard and locked down,” Stanford told him over the implant com. “Alstairs’ people dropped off a munitions reload on their way down to the planet, too. We are fully stocked and prepared for operations.”
“Thank you, CAG,” Kyle acknowledged and glanced around his bridge. “Anything anyone hasn’t mentioned to me yet?” he asked.
There were chuckles at that. Solace had rejoined him ten minutes after they’d hit orbit, and his people had done a fantastic job of getting everything moving and down to the planet. Any resource they could spare for Kematian had been loaded onto the shuttles heading out – everything from portable infirmaries to medical supplies to generators and decontamination units.
A Deep Space Carrier was designed to single-handedly fill the role of a wet navy carrier group, which meant it had a lot of seemingly random equipment aboard. It was rare for a carrier to find a sit
uation the crew didn’t have a tool for – and now thousands of tons of those tools had been deployed to the surface of Kematian.
Kyle had reviewed the ship’s entire equipment list before they’d reached orbit and given most of the orders for deployment himself. He knew he’d micro-managed the process, his fingers far deeper into his senior officers’ departments than he usually went, but this time, no one seemed to mind.
It was a poor sop against all of their consciences.
“Admiral, Avalon is prepared to move out,” he told Tobin quietly. “Your orders?”
Operating as a Battle Group of one ship was always an awkward situation, but Kyle agreed with the Vice Admiral’s logic. They only needed one ship to take down Triumphant, and Avalon was the only one that could catch her. The rest of their ships would be better used helping Kematian.
“No change, Captain,” Tobin replied simply. “If we’re ready, take us to KG-779. Do we have an ETA yet?”
Kyle glanced over at Pendez. “Commander?”
“We are four hours from warping space,” she reported. “From there, to travel the nine light years to KG-779, we’re looking at one hundred and thirty-seven hours. It will take Triumphant six full days, so we’ll have a seven hour advantage and will enter the system five hours behind them.
“That’s dependant on us being able to sustain one point one light years per day squared for the full period,” Pendez warned. “We haven’t tried this before, and it may not hold together for six days.”
“Understood, Commander Pendez,” Tobin rumbled. “Don’t worry, Commander Wong gave us the same warning.”
“In fact, Maria,” Kyle interrupted, “I want you or your deputy in constant communication with engineering so long as we’re pushing the drive. As soon as there is an issue, pull us back to one light year a day until Wong approves something different.”
Vivid memories of the morgue that had been the bridge of another Avalon flashed through his mind, and he glanced over at Tobin’s image on the screen.
“We won’t do anyone any good if we die before we catch Triumphant,” he reminded the Vice Admiral. “And one Alcubierre failure in a career is enough for anyone!”
“Agreed, Captain.” The big Admiral looked tired, blinking heavily against bloodshot eyes. He was likely on the same stims as Kyle, but while they could keep you awake and reduce the functionality loss, they didn’t stop you feeling tired.
“And if we’re on our way,” the Admiral continued after a moment, as if reading Kyle’s mind, “you, Captain Roberts, should get some sleep. Commander Solace looks bright eyed and awake beside you.”
Kyle glanced over at his XO, who did look much better after five hours sleep. There was the same haunted look in her eyes as everyone else on the ship, but she didn’t look like she’d been run through a meat-grinder.
She turned a smile on him, and a shock ran through his system. For the moment at least, the statue was gone, and he was tired enough that what registered in his mind was that the woman sitting next to him was absolutely gorgeous.
He shook his head to clear the fuzz, and very carefully returned his gaze to the Admiral. “You’re not wrong sir,” he allowed, “though I would suggest a mirror as well.”
Tobin laughed, a loud surprised rumble that shocked the entire bridge.
“You’re also not wrong, Captain,” he replied. “We’ll talk once we’re in FTL.”
11:00 January 1, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon Admiral Tobin’s Quarters
Corona burned around him. A power conduit burned through, the resulting explosion throwing debris across the hallway. Shrapnel cut through Brown’s torso, cleaving his Chief of Staff in two. Blood poured impossibly from the man’s torso as Dimitri caught him.
“It’s all your fault,” his aide told him, his bright blue eyes meeting his Admiral’s gaze. “Look at it.”
Somehow, the half of a man in Dimitri’s arms gestured widely, and Tobin realized that the entire side of the ship was gone. Outside, he could see the blue-green skies of the planet below. He didn’t recognize it for a moment, then the ugly splotches of immense mushroom clouds erupted from the surface.
“You’re doomed, Dimitri,” a softly accented voice told him. “Everything you try to protect will die. Like me.”
Flight Lieutenant Karl Michaels-Tobin was dressed exactly as he had been the last fateful day Dimitri had seen him. The lanky blond man looked sad, with no sign whatsoever of the antimatter blast that had ended his life with no chance for his family to even see a body.
“You failed me,” Karl snarled. “You failed Amaranthe. You fail everyone you try to protect – why do you keep trying?! Others would do better.”
“Your arrogance killed me,” Brown joined in the chorus. “It killed Kematian. Why, Admiral, why?!”
Behind him, more explosions marched across Kematian, a world he’d been supposed to save dying in fire as his lover and his friend repeated the same question:
“Why?”
Dimitri finally awoke with a start to his darkened cabin, sweating and cursing aloud as he fumbled for light. It was several seconds before he managed to marshal his brain into a coherent enough shape to issue an implant order.
Finally, the room lit up with a bright stark light that chased away nightmares. The Admiral sighed, stumbling from his bed to desk and pulling a bottle from the bottom drawer.
There were no real memories to play to shield against this kind of nightmare, he knew that from long ago. He poured himself a shot of vodka and considered the dream.
“Happy fucking New Year, Dimitri,” he whispered to himself.
Downing the shot, and then a second one, he tried to steady his nerves. It had been years since his subconscious had dragged Karl’s memory up as part of its attacks on his sanity. His husband was long dead. Karl’s parents were god-parents to his and Sasha’s children – they’d helped him move on and find Sasha after Karl’s death.
The nightmares had been getting worse after Midori though. With Kematian… he shivered. He was afraid sleep was going to be hard to come by until he brought Triumphant to justice. He needed to avenge Kematian – he doubted anything less would let him sleep at night.
There was a quiet knock on his door and his implant informed him Commander Sanchez was outside.
“Enter!” he snapped. “What is it?”
His young blond aide saluted crisply, her precise uniform a sharp contrast to his own rumpled shipsuit.
“I had an alert set for when you woke up, sir,” she told him. “Are you all right? You didn’t sleep very long.”
“I’m fine,” he said shortly, slamming back a third shot of vodka. “I’ll be back asleep in a few minutes. What do you need?”
“New dispatches came in from Alliance High Command, sir,” she told him. “Not urgent enough to wake you, but they are your eyes only and require your authentication code so they may be important.”
“Give them here,” he ordered. He yanked the pad out of her hand, downloading his implant code.
“That’s the wrong pad, sir,” Sanchez said quickly, snatching back the datapad and replacing it with another. “That’s my report on the Kematians’ long-term logistical needs. It’s not ready yet.”
Blinking blearily against the alcohol and incipient exhaustion, Dimitri grabbed the new pad and unlocked it. This one did open up the list of dispatches, and he exhaled as if struck.
Kematian had held, though the price was beyond imagination or acceptance.
Two other systems hadn’t. Battle Group Seventeen and the Kematian Navy had destroyed five Commonwealth capital ships without starship losses of their own.
The Toledo and Arsenault systems had bled the Commonwealth, but had fallen. Seven more Commonwealth capital ships had been destroyed, but so had nine Alliance ships.
His pursuit of Triumphant was authorized, but with a very strict time limit – if they hadn’t caught up to the battleship in two weeks, they were ordered to return to Kematian and r
eassemble Battle Group Seventeen.
Alliance High Command couldn’t let more systems fall without trying to retrieve them. It appeared that Battle Group Seventeen was to be part of that operation.
Regardless of the cost to Dimitri Tobin’s soul if he had to let Triumphant go.
22
Deep Space, En route to KG-779
11:00 January 2, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Executive Officer’s Office
It was a depressed group of senior officers and NCOs that gathered in Solace’s office the day after entering FTL. Michael had brought Kalers along to help speak for the Space Force personnel aboard the ship, and was pleased to see that Solace had invited Belmonte – and that Major Caleb Norup had brought Peng Wa.
Michael hadn’t interacted much with the commander of the short battalion – four companies with no heavy weapons element – of Marines embarked aboard Avalon but the broad-shouldered man seemed solid enough. Master Sergeant Wa seemed to think so, anyway, which was enough for the CAG.
The seventh person in the room was Ship’s Marshal Barsamian, and she looked at the collection of more senior officers and more experienced non-commissioned officers with a calm Michael wasn’t sure he’d possess in her place.
“We have completed the process of taking the ship to Counter Intelligence Level Three,” she said calmly. “Per the Code of Military Justice, we are required to inform all personnel inside a full communication review zone within twenty-four hours of the review commencing. Delivering that notice falls to the senior officers and NCOs of each service branch.”
“I downloaded the message template before everything came apart at Kematian,” Michael told the others. “This isn’t my first go around with potential spies.”
“It is mine,” Solace replied grimly. “I’ll take a copy of that template if you will, CAG.”
Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon Page 48