“Seventh Fleet has been tasked with liberating those systems.”
Kyle ignored the consternation in the rest of the room as he leaned in to study the display. It didn’t include any detail on the estimated Commonwealth strength in each system, but the astrography itself laid out some of their priorities.
Alizon was the most “northern” system—galactic north being defined based on Earth’s polar direction and a ninety-degree angle versus Sol’s ecliptic plane—of the six taken in the first wave. Three of the other five were “beneath” Alizon, spread out almost equidistant along a line that had marked the old limits of the Alliance. Frihet sat in an almost mirror position to Alizon to the galactic south, and then Huī Xing was further coreward, once the closest Alliance system to the Commonwealth.
“As part of that tasking,” Alstairs noted, “we are not expected to maintain the security of Alizon. The Alizon Star Guard had a carrier assigned to the fleet at Midori. With the Royal Phoenix Navy reinforcing that fleet with the rest of their reserve, Alliance High Command has agreed that the Star Guard should come home.
“They’ll be bringing friends from Thorn and Sebring as well,” she continued. “A three-ship task group, combined with the gunships and fortifications that have been brought in over the last month, should suffice to protect Alizon while Seventh Fleet kicks the Commonwealth off the rest of our worlds. They’re scheduled to arrive in four days, at which point we are expected to commence offensive operations.”
“It’s going to take most of that to get our deflectors up to the new specs,” Captain Christine Olivier of the Royal Phoenix Navy cruiser Courageous pointed out. “They did all the heavy lifting in the yards back home, but they sent all the reserve ships”—the green-eyed and dark-haired woman gestured around at the rest of the new crews— “out with a lot of parts and pieces still needing to be put in place.”
Kyle nodded to himself, surprised they’d made even that much of a concession to getting the ships forward. The early months of the war had shown that ships with last-generation deflectors were far too vulnerable to high-power positron beams to be allowed in the line of battle. Facing an enemy with the same weapons, the older ships had half the effective range of a modern vessel. A mass refit program had been commenced, and High Command had ordered that no ship without modern defenses was to be allowed at the front.
“My information is that that should take roughly a week?” Alstairs asked Olivier.
“That’s what my engineers are saying,” Olivier agreed, glancing around at the other captains for confirmation. No one argued—but who would want to be the one telling the Admiral you’d take longer than everyone else?
“Good,” the Admiral said. “I will delay our operations before I’ll send out ships that aren’t ready, people,” she told them firmly. “Our intelligence on enemy strength is mixed but suggests that each of our old systems is currently defended by three capital ships, mostly older cruisers and carriers.
“My preference is to assume they have the same upgrades we have,” she noted dryly. “While the geography suggests certain courses of action to me, I want to hear everyone’s opinions.”
Other holotanks lit up under each of the tables, mirroring the main table though not yet allowing access.
“We have one final mission objective that I haven’t mentioned yet,” the Admiral told them as everyone studied the tanks. A single red star without a green carat acquired a flashing gold carat. Kyle placed it immediately from his pre-war briefings and inhaled sharply as he waited for her to confirm his assessment.
“Once we have liberated the systems the Commonwealth has taken from us, our final mission objective is to assault the Commonwealth naval base at Via Somnia,” she said flatly. “The intention, ladies and gentlemen, is both to neutralize a clear and present danger to Alliance systems—and to, for the first time ever, seize and occupy a Commonwealth star system.”
3
Alizon System
22:00 February 20, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
BC-129 Camerone, Deck Two Officers’ Lounge
A plan was starting to come together around the room, most of the officers seeing the same astrography that Kyle had and using it to inform the suggested strategy. The main idea seemed to be to hit the first three systems, Cora, Frihet, and Hammerveldt, simultaneously—punch out most of the holding forces in the region before the Commonwealth even knew the Alliance was going on the offensive.
It definitely had appeal to Kyle. The most successful offensive the Alliance had launched to date had been almost an accident, triggered when Battle Group Seventeen’s then-commander, Vice Admiral Tobin, had launched a revenge campaign for the bombardment of an Alliance world.
Tobin had disobeyed orders, lied to Kyle and his officers, betrayed the trusts given to him—and led Avalon to liberate Alizon and destroy four Commonwealth capital ships. His crimes had left him in a brig cell orbiting Alizon for now, but his victories would likely buy him a quiet discharge without prejudice.
Few of the other occupants of those brig cells would share that mercy. Tobin’s chief of staff had turned out to be a spy and an assassin, and had used the authority of her position to organize an attempted mutiny against Kyle. Her deception meant most of the prisoners were only facing dishonorable discharge, with only her core conspirators and those guilty of murder facing major charges.
The plan taking shape around the room—apparently already code-named Operation Rising Star by Alliance High Command—would follow up on Tobin’s unauthorized victories and kick the Commonwealth in the teeth. Given the availability of quantum-entanglement communications, the use of multiple dispersed and converging battle groups was possible, if risky. The op plan allowed them to back off at multiple points if they took too much damage or faced heavy resistance.
He really liked it. Flexible and aggressive, it was exactly the kind of counterattack the Alliance needed to launch—and from the pleased smile on Admiral Alstairs’ face, it was the plan she’d had in mind from the beginning. By having her captains come up with it, she’d earned their buy-in without even trying, and potentially picked up a few key tricks and details she hadn’t thought of.
Kyle was making mental notes of the tactic when a critical alert slammed into his implant. Every officer in the room stopped what they were doing—mid-action, mid-sentence—as a data dump from the Alizon Star Guard hit them.
The Guard was waiting on the return of its carrier to be a fully reconstituted force, but they’d taken over the logistics depot the Terrans had built in the system. From those resources and a few Q-probes borrowed from Seventh Fleet, they’d assembled a new system scanner net. A net that had now detected something.
“This is Star Guard Sensor Command,” the speaker told everyone after the critical alerts had grabbed their mental attention. “We have Alcubierre-Stetson emergences at the three-light-minute mark. Eight signatures, four twenty-million-ton, four fifteen-million-ton. We are attempting to resolve details, but we have detected the launch of several hundred starfighters.”
That was four modern and four last-generation—but still powerful—warships. More than enough firepower to punch Battle Group Seventeen out of existence…but nowhere near enough to challenge Seventh Fleet.
The room erupted around Kyle. Multiple officers were shouting often-contradictory suggestions at each other and the Admiral, and orders to their juniors.
“Enough!” Alstairs bellowed in a parade-ground voice to make any Marine drill sergeant happy. She waited for the tumult to quiet, then surveyed her people with severe eyes. Kyle was suddenly very glad he hadn’t been one of the officers in near-panic.
“The Commonwealth has just made a critical error,” she pointed out to them. “These ships are insufficient to defeat Seventh Fleet—but they are enough that the Terran commander may be willing to push her luck. Especially if she doesn’t realize our older ships’ deflectors have been upgraded.” Her smile was predatory.
“I intend
to take full advantage of that fact.” The holotanks throughout the room now displayed the Alizon system. “Even if they launched a fighter attack immediately upon emergence, we have time, people. Get to your ships. Await my orders. Seventh Fleet will protect Alizon.”
“Hold on a moment, Captain Roberts, Captain Solace,” the Admiral said calmly as the room began to empty, gesturing for Kyle and Solace to remain in their seats. “The rest of you can go,” she told the two CAGs and XOs. “Have Avalon’s shuttle ready to fly.”
A moment later, the two captains were alone with Alstairs, who turned a level gaze on them.
“Mira, you’re my flag captain; I need to know your thoughts,” she said calmly. “Kyle, you have one of the most twisted minds I’ve met yet. I want your ideas.”
Kyle gestured for Solace to speak while he organized his thoughts, studying the holotank.
“My main concern is the new ships,” Camerone’s Captain said after a moment. “Their deflectors are upgraded from what they were, but they’re still not up to the standard we want them at. They’re in limbo—and more vulnerable than they’ll be in a week.”
“But their fighters are modern,” Alstairs pointed out. “Only the battleships need to close inside their vulnerable range—and I don’t think that’s the battle we want to fight. We have seventh-gen fighters—and Intel says the Commonwealth still hasn’t deployed one.”
“I don’t disagree, ma’am,” Solace replied. “But I’d suggest we keep Zheng He up front, with the older ships behind her deflectors and those of the other new ships. Gets them into the fray but covers for their weaknesses.”
Zheng He was the Renaissance Trade Factor battleship assigned to Seventh Fleet. Every bit as large and modern a unit as Kyle’s Avalon, she was also far more optimized to take—and deal—direct damage than the carrier was. She had the heaviest deflectors in Seventh Fleet, and putting her out in front would help keep everyone alive.
“Good idea,” Alstairs said sharply. “Thank you, Mira. Still feeling into this myself, remember.” She turned to Kyle. “Well, Roberts? Any fancy tricks or deadly surprises?”
He laughed.
“Despite my reputation, ma’am, I know when those tricks are needed,” he pointed out. “They’re generally all-or-nothing affairs, and that’s a risk we don’t need to take today.” He shrugged. “We have the bigger hammer. Let’s hit them with it.”
“With the older ships in the fleet, though, do we really?” Solace asked softly.
Kyle grinned.
“We might not,” he agreed. “But the Commonwealth sure aren’t going to think so if we head straight for them, are they?”
22:30 February 20, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
Theoretically, Kyle could command Avalon naked in his shower via his neural implants. Nonetheless, he heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way onto the supercarrier’s bridge, Anderson two steps behind him.
“Status report,” he snapped, glancing around the room to confirm his top crew was on duty. The bridge was a circular room, with screens showing high-level data of the ship’s status surrounding the scattered consoles. Most of the work was done by implant, but it remained easiest to share data visually.
“Flag reports all ships at ready status,” Xue replied crisply. “Our fighters are deployed; Vice Commodore Stanford is launching now and assuming command.”
“And our Terran friends?”
“All eight ships are inbound toward Alizon orbit at two hundred gravities,” the tactical officer informed him. “The Star Guard blew two Q-probes getting in close for IDs. They have them as two Volcano-class carriers, two Saint-class battleships, three older Assassin-class battlecruisers and a Lexington-class strike carrier.” Each ship flashed both on the screen and in the tactical plot in Kyle’s neural feed as she spoke. “They are holding back nine squadrons—ninety starfighters, looks like the Assassins’ groups—and have launched the rest as a forward strike.”
Kyle considered, running the numbers. That was five hundred and fifty starfighters, which could be a problem if…
“Any class ID on the starfighters?” he asked. “We’re still looking at Scimitars?”
“Yes, sir,” Xue confirmed. “No sign of upgrades or modifications, either. They’re inbound at four hundred and fifty gravities. They launched missiles at roughly the same time—first salvos are still forty minutes out.”
Capital ship missiles—and the Commonwealth’s Stormwinds were almost identical to the Alliance’s Jackhammer in capabilities—had stupendous total ranges but only twice the acceleration of a starfighter. He checked the plot and inhaled sharply as he saw the numbers.
Five salvos of one hundred and twenty-six missiles were inbound. Six hundred plus missiles was a number he was more familiar with seeing associated with the far smaller and inferior fighter missiles, not all-up Stormwinds.
Silently, he checked on the command network. He had been linked into it since arriving on Avalon several minutes before, but several of the other captains hadn’t been. Finally, Lord Captain Bann of the Horus and his CAG clicked on.
“All of your ships have reported ready to my staff,” Rear Admiral Alstairs immediately noted over the neural link. “If anyone is not prepared for battle, this is your last opportunity.”
It would take a brave officer to retract the statement from their crew that their ship was ready for battle. If anyone wasn’t ready, they weren’t that brave, and the only answer to Alstairs’ question was silence.
“Good,” she continued crisply. “Vice Commodore Stanford, what is the status of our fighter wings?”
Even with the new ships, Avalon’s CAG was the senior starfighter officer in Seventh Fleet. Kyle had checked—both of the new Ursine carriers’ CAGs had been promoted to Vice Commodore even more recently than Stanford.
The officers of the new ships were all like that. Kyle had been a Captain for mere months, and they still looked so new, they squeaked to him—despite every last one of them being older than him, their promotions were weeks old.
The Reserve had two thirds as many ships as the active Castle Federation Space Navy had before the war—manning them all was a strain on the Navy’s personnel.
“All fighters are in the air and all squadrons are reporting in,” Stanford replied, several moments delay obvious as he coordinated with his new subordinates. “We have one hundred forty-four Arrows from the Imperials, ninety-six Templars from the RPN, and five hundred and ninety-two Falcons. These bastards are so screwed it isn’t even funny, ma’am.”
“I want a CSP held back to cover us from their missiles, CAG,” she ordered. “Your discretion—but I don’t want those Scimitars getting anywhere near my fleet.”
“Recommend we hold back the Arrows for fleet defense, ma’am,” the CAG replied immediately. “The Falcons can take these bastards on their own, but I get the feeling our Phoenix friends will complain if we don’t let them test their shiny new ships out.”
“Then go demonstrate why the Commonwealth really does need a seventh-generation starfighter, Vice Commodore,” Alstairs ordered. “All ships, forwarding you a formation now. Zheng He, I want your deflectors between the Terrans and our new ships. Everyone else, fall into place and move out after the starfighters.”
“Request permission to engage with missiles,” Captain Lora Aleppo, the Zheng He’s commander, asked. “If they’re shooting at us, I’d like to return the favor.”
“Agreed. All vessels, coordinate missile salvos with Captain Aleppo,” the Admiral confirmed. “Let’s be about it, people.”
4
Alizon System
23:00 February 20, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
SFG-001 Actual—Falcon-C type command starfighter
Michael Stanford spent the only “quiet” thirty minutes of the flight studying the statistics on the Royal Phoenix Space Force’s new Templar-type starfighter. It was a smaller, lighter, spacecraft than his own Falcons, but still carried three missil
e launchers to the Falcon’s four and a heavier positron lance. They were weaker on electronic warfare but closer than the Imperial Arrow had been.
Given that the Templar was a triangular wedge, similar to but narrower than a Falcon, with two missile launchers on one side and one on the other, he suspected she may have had a missile launcher pulled and replaced with EW gear late in the design process—after, for example, the early deployment of the Arrow-types demonstrated the value of the Falcon’s electronic countermeasures.
Between his almost seven hundred starfighters, the space around his strike was an absolute mess of jamming. His own ships were communicating with each other by Q-Com and linked into Seventh Fleet’s sensors and Q-probes, allowing them to see clearly, but the Terrans were going to have a problem localizing them as targets.
Of course, the six hundred plus missiles about to flash past his starfighter strike at over ten percent of the speed of light were equally difficult to see. Capital ship missiles had the mass and the power budget to devote to powerful electronic countermeasures and didn’t need to worry about keeping their emitters intact for the long term.
“All right, people,” Michael said calmly over the all-ships link. “Remember, every missile we blow to hell is a missile that Seventh Fleet doesn’t have to worry about. One shot per salvo and then prep your missiles for our Scimitar friends. One full salvo and then lances.”
As a starfighter pilot, the Vice Commodore was in the top half percent of the human population for his ability to interface with computers via neural implants. It was this ability, and a slew of supporting low-level artificial intelligences and drones, that allowed a crew of three to control a six-thousand-ton spaceship wrapped around multiple zero point energy cells and antimatter rockets.
Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon Page 66