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

by Glynn Stewart

  “James, what’s the status of our mass-murdering friend?”

  “We got a clean read when she brought up her Alcubierre-Stetson drive, sir,” the tired looking officer replied. “Took us a bit to crunch the numbers, mostly because the destination looks strange. I’m not familiar with the system at all, but it’s in our catalog as Barsoom. Inside Alliance borders, but shows as Commonwealth.”

  Kyle was about to start reviewing the information on Barsoom when Surgeon-Commander Cunningham called to give exactly the order he’d been expecting.

  “Your brace is sending me all sorts of wonderful medical data, you know,” Cunningham told him dryly. “Which means I can tell that if you don’t get your ass either lying down, preferably asleep, or into my clinic, everything I did last night will be for nothing.

  “Take a break, Captain. Doctor’s orders.”

  Kyle shook his head at the Doctor – technically junior to him, but also the only man on the ship who could give him an order like that.

  “I will, Commander,” he promised. He turned to Anderson. “Commander Anderson, get together with Lieutenant Commander Snapes and pull together a briefing on Barsoom. I suspect the Admiral and I will need it.”

  18:00 January 14, 2736 ESMDT

  DSC-078 Avalon, Vice Admiral Tobin’s Office

  “Congratulations on liberating Alizon with only one ship, Admiral Tobin,” Fleet Admiral Meredith Blake told Dimitri. The Federation’s uniformed military commander looked almost cheerful compared to the last few times he’d seen her.

  “We missed Triumphant,” he admitted. That failure was far more important to him, even if everyone else regarded it as minor. “Liberating Alizon was, well, incidental.”

  “And still our first truly offensive victory of the war,” she noted. “Have you made contact with the Alizoni government?”

  “Captain Roberts has sent Marines to the surface to interface with the Alizon Guard,” Dimitri told her. “We’re hoping the Guard can put us in touch with whoever is left of the civilian government.”

  “Their emergency plans for this circumstance called for the civilian government to disappear into hidden underground bunkers along with the Guard High Command,” Blake advised him. “Hopefully, President Ingolfson is still alive. Very sensible man, very competent.”

  “We can hope, ma’am. We have secured the orbitals,” he continued. “My intent is to leave the Marines and a small force of starfighters and Navy personnel to support the Guard in securing the Commonwealth prisoners.

  “We will be en route after Triumphant inside of twenty-four hours.”

  Blake was silent for a moment, a sour expression on his face he recognized as her marshaling the words to say something she knew a subordinate wouldn’t like.

  “Admiral, I’ve discussed this with Alliance High Command,” she said quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, everyone wants to see Captain Richardson take a long walk out a short airlock, but he’s now unquestionably rogue by Commonwealth standards – and headed into Commonwealth space.

  “We know Walkingstick. He’s our enemy, but he’s also an honorable man. He will do everything within his power to bring Richardson to justice, and we can now be certain Richardson will fight him. Walkingstick will lose ships and resources to bring Triumphant in.”

  She shook her head.

  “Even if that wasn’t the case, Dimitri,” she told him gently, “holding Alizon would be more important than revenge. Destroying Triumphant won’t bring back the dead, but protecting Alizon and providing the hammer to force the garrison to honor Paris’ surrender will save lives.

  “I am ordering you to remain in the Alizon system,” Blake finished bluntly. “We have reinforced Kematian and the rest of your Battle Group is now en route to Alizon. They are twelve days away. You will oversee the security of the Alizon system until sufficient defenses can be set up.”

  “We cannot allow the devastation of an inhabited world to go unpunished!” Dimitri snapped, anger boiling through him at the thought. “Half a billion dead, Meredith! Even if the Commonwealth does punish him, then we show the galaxy we allow our enemies to punish crimes against our people.”

  “There is sentiment and there is practicality, Vice Admiral,” the Federation Chief of Staff snapped. “I will leave half a billion unavenged to guarantee the safety of three billion.”

  “I do not agree with these orders,” the Vice Admiral grounded out, but Blake simply shook her head.

  “You have the privilege as an officer to disagree with your orders,” she said calmly. “You do not have the privilege to disobey.

  “Can you obey your orders, Admiral Tobin, or must I relieve you and place the fate of Alizon in Captain Roberts’ capable hands?”

  Dimitri swallowed his anger, letting it burn deep within him as he glared at the older, more senior, Admiral. He couldn’t. He couldn’t obey – he physically could not let Richardson go. Which left him only one real choice.

  “I understand, ma’am,” he lied. “I will make certain Alizon is secure.”

  “Thank you, Dimitri,” Blake said quietly. “I know what you’re feeling. But we can’t lose one world trying to avenge another.”

  He nodded choppily and killed the connection.

  There was very little breakable in his office, and it took Dimitri only a few minutes to work through the coffee cups, carafe and glasses scattered around the room. It made very little difference to his mood, and he found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly at the shards of ceramic.

  Time and again, Commonwealth officers had gone too far. Logic insisted it was only a handful – less than half a dozen incidents in two wars – but Dimitri Tobin had been present for too many of them. Kematian was only the latest atrocity he’d seen with his own eyes.

  The Commonwealth might well punish their own officers. Walkingstick might well take his fleet after Triumphant and bring down the battleship, perhaps even take losses the Alliance needed him to take in doing so.

  But to leave the punishment of evil to those who enabled it stuck in Dimitri’s throat. The souls of Kematian’s dead didn’t want their justice meted out by the very men whose actions had set their fate into motion.

  Perhaps worse, if the Alliance allowed the Commonwealth to police crimes committed in their space, they surrendered a piece of the very sovereignty they fought for. They would lose some of their legitimacy in the eyes of both other governments and their own people.

  Vice Admiral Dimitri Tobin could understand every single step in the perfectly logical chain that had brought Alliance High Command to the orders he’d been given. But he could not agree with them. He could not obey them.

  As he searched for an answer, he began to clean up the debris of his rage. If he had it all cleaned away before he had anyone in his office, no one would ever know what had happened unless he told them.

  He froze, his hands full of shards of glass, as the realization struck him. Carefully, ever-so-carefully, he finished cleaning the sharp pieces of glass and ceramic off the floor and then took a seat at his desk. No one else knew the orders he’d received.

  It was still possible to carry out his mission – if he was truly prepared to sacrifice everything. Against half a billion murdered innocents, what choice did he have?

  “Lieutenant Major Barsamian,” he opened a channel to Avalon’s Ship’s Marshal. “Have you made any progress in identifying our spy and assassin?”

  The dark-skinned young woman in his implant feed looked up from her desk with tired eyes.

  “Not yet, Admiral,” she told him. “We have a lot of data to go over. It may be three or four days before I have enough for it be worthwhile to brief you and Captain Roberts.”

  “Major, are you telling me we have no idea who this agent is?” he asked. It was the response he’d expected, but he needed to get this on the record.

  “Unfortunately, sir, that is exactly what I am telling you,” she replied, her voice sharp.

  “Lieutenant Ma
jor,” he continued formally, “based on this newest incident, I see no option but to take the ship to Counter Intelligence Level One.”

  “Sir, that is Captain Roberts’ decision…”

  “Or mine if the risk is to the Battle Group,” he reminded her. She pursed her lips sourly, but he knew he was right. With effectively a single ship ‘Battle Group,’ the line of just what the Admiral aboard could and couldn’t do was very blurry.

  “You will take the ship black,” he ordered. “All communications to and from Avalon will go through my office, to be approved by my authorization code only. This is now a matter of the security of the Federation – and of Alizon.”

  “I understand, sir,” Barsamian said quietly, bowing her head. “I will see to it.”

  She was true to her word. Less than five minutes later, the lockout appeared on his computer screen, requesting his personal authorization codes to confirm the complete shutdown of Q-Com communication with the rest of the universe.

  He smiled.

  The easiest step was complete. He wasn’t, yet, committed – though as soon as Avalon left the Alizon system his career was over. No matter the price, he would make certain that Triumphant would not escape justice.

  33

  Alizon System

  08:00 January 15, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-078 Avalon, Main Flight Deck

  Captain John Paris was somewhat unsettling in person. The albino Commonwealth officer was extremely tall and gaunt – towering several centimeters over Kyle’s own daunting height – which combined with his red eyes, pale skin, and almost translucent hair into an odd visage even by Federation standards.

  Two Federation Marines had led the way off of the shuttle onto the flight deck where Kyle and Tobin were waiting. Another dozen from the platoon Norup had left aboard formed an honor guard around the two Federation officers.

  Paris himself was escorted by a pair of burly, but unarmed, Commonwealth Marines in full dress uniform. Two more Federation Marines followed him, escorting a second Commonwealth officer, a redheaded and broad-shoulder woman with the paired gold bars of a Commander.

  Kyle stepped forward as the prisoner paused in front of the honor guard, offering the man a firm salute.

  “Welcome aboard Avalon, Captain Paris,” he said calmly, reflecting again on the inevitable confusion of so many Alliance powers deciding a starship commander was an O-7. He and Paris had the same title, but he outranked the other man. With a nod, he led the man over to Tobin.

  Reaching the Vice Admiral, Kyle rejoined his flag officer and formally introduced them.

  “Captain John Paris of the Commonwealth Navy, this is Vice Admiral Dimitri Tobin of the Federation Space Navy.”

  “Admiral,” Paris said with a sharp salute. “I hereby surrender my facility and personnel into your keeping.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Tobin replied calmly. “On the honor of the Federation, so long as your people cooperate, no one will be harmed.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Paris replied. “I never expected to surrender my command to the Alliance,” he said quietly, “but strangely, all I feel today is relief that you were here.”

  “We were in pursuit of Triumphant,” Kyle noted. “Even so, we did not expect what he did.”

  “Commodore kaBhekuzulu knew about Kematian, obviously,” the base commander said quietly. “He demanded Richardson’s surrender. Triumphant’s XO informed us he had Richardson in custody and would surrender the ship and Richardson so long as kaBhekuzulu guaranteed that no one other than Richardson would face the death penalty.”

  The skeletal Commonwealth officer shrugged, looking very tired.

  “kaBhekuzulu agreed,” he said simply. “The crisis appeared over, and we stood down to allow the Triumphant to be taken in. You saw what followed.”

  “You’ll forgive me, Captain Paris, if I am more concerned about the hundreds of millions Richardson killed on Kematian than the thousands he killed here,” Tobin said bluntly. “But do not worry. We will hunt Captain Richardson to the ends of the galaxy if need be.”

  Kyle managed to avoid making any noticeable response to that. Hopefully, the Admiral was exaggerating – there were limits to how far Avalon could go, or how long they could indulge in this pursuit.

  “I must confess, Admiral,” Paris replied, his voice very quiet, “that before I surrendered our facility to you I left a program in our surveillance network to inform Walkingstick of where Triumphant fled. Whether by your hand or by the Marshal’s, Richardson will pay for his crimes.”

  Tobin grunted and gestured for the Marines to take Paris and his subordinate away. Once the prisoners had left, Major Norup exited the shuttle. The Marine was in an unmarked dark gray jumpsuit, the kind his people wore under body armor, and looked exhausted.

  “Captain, Admiral,” he saluted. “I beg leave to report we have secured approximately seventy five percent of the Commonwealth base. We have identified and sequestered slightly over eighty percent of Captain Paris’ people – we’re using one of the storage platforms to hold them all. It’s been cleared of anything except food,” he noted.

  “Excellent work, Major,” Kyle told him. For sixteen hours work in as large a facility as the Commonwealth had assembled here, that was almost a miracle.

  “We have also managed to make contact with the command structure of the Alizon Guard,” he reported. “My understanding is that President Ingolfson is alive, but buried very deep – both literally and metaphorically. He is expected to be in a position to speak with Admiral Tobin by later this morning.

  “My people are coordinating efforts with the Guard, but so far, the Terrans are being cooperative. If,” he finished with a wicked smile, “somewhat shocked at just how many intact, fully equipped, Guard units are still around.”

  “Well done indeed, Major,” Tobin confirmed. “We’re having a staff meeting on Avalon’s next steps at oh nine hundred hours. It will impact your people, so I’d like you to be there.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the disheveled Marine’s only reply.

  09:00 January 15, 2736 ESMDT

  DSC-078 Avalon, Flag Deck Conference Room

  Dimitri took a swallow of his coffee as he settled himself down at the end of the conference table, glancing around the room at the small group he’d gathered. If he failed to convince these five people of the validity of his plans and authority, he might well end up throwing his career away for nothing.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” he began calmly. “It has been seventeen hours since Triumphant went faster than light. Since it will take us two hours to get clear enough to engage our own FTL drive, that means we are a minimum of nineteen hours behind Captain Richardson, and according to my math, we’ll only make up four hours over the ten light years to Barsoom.

  “We are under some pressure from High Command to bring Triumphant to heel and return to other duties,” he lied. “I want to get us underway as soon as possible – I would very much like to have us underway by thirteen hundred hours. Giving Captain Richardson more than twenty hours in a system that is effectively defenseless makes my teeth itch.”

  “What about Alizon, sir?” Norup asked immediately. “The Guard may be doing the heavy lifting on the surface, but the Star Guard is functionally gone. Even if they have pilots, they have no starfighters or guardships.”

  “Remember, Major, that Captain Paris’ surrender included the remaining starfighters,” Dimitri reminded him, “While the flight crews did their jobs and wiped their systems, my understanding is that we have a copy of the Scimitar’s flight and combat software. Vice Commodore?”

  Stanford started, surprised, but nodded slowly.

  “The Scimitar has been in service for years, and we’ve captured a few intact already,” he agreed. “We have full copies of their software to use in our simulators. The Q-Coms won’t work – we don’t have updated Commonwealth codes and we’re probably better off tearing the entangled particle arrays out of the ships for our ow
n security – but we can give them control of the engines and weapons.”

  “The Alizoni should be able to come up with flight crews for sixty starfighters,” the Admiral told his people. “As I understand it, the support ships we have left are capable of refuelling and rearming in space. They should be able to coopt some of the insystem clippers or civilian platforms to provide quarters for their crews, and we can leave… how many tugs would you be comfortable leaving, Captain Roberts?”

  Avalon’s Captain looked uncertain. Dimitri knew that Roberts had been aware of the original deadline, now expired, and hoped the man figured the Admiral was stretching his orders, not completely defying them.

  “I’m not entirely comfortable only having eight ships for SAR,” he admitted finally. “But we can leave four. The Commonwealth platform had enough Javelins aboard to provide functionally infinite reloads for the starfighters as well. From a planetary defense standpoint, though, sixty starfighters is a pretty sparse line to shield a world.” The Captain paused. “Triumphant barely qualifies as a modern ship. We can probably spare one of Stanford’s Wings.”

  “Agreed,” Dimitri told him. “The rest of Battle Group Seventeen is already en route here and can reinforce the Star Guard and whichever Wing we leave behind. I can’t see Walkingstick mobilizing an assault force and getting it here in the next twelve days.”

  He turned back to Norup.

  “I have no intention of leaving the Alizon Guard in the lurch, either,” he told the Major. “The truth is that we will not be attempting to board Triumphant,” he admitted. “Outside of a small detachment – the platoon or so you’ve already left aboard should do – for onboard security and supporting Marshal Barsamian, I don’t see any need for Marines.

  “I intend to leave you and most of your battalion behind, quartered in the logistics base, with all of your assault shuttles. With you acting a fast response force, and the Commonwealth starfighters to provide a core force for the Star Guard, I believe the Alizoni should be able to secure their own system until BG Seventeen arrives.”