Utilitarian-looking corridors stretched off from that meeting area, presumably leading to mess halls, gyms, and sleeping rooms. He understood most of the facilities to be cramped but serviceable—there were ten thousand people in the disk he stood in, after all.
Only a few dozen people were in the area, though, keeping an apparently lazy eye on his armored Marines.
“Wait, you’re not Terrans,” someone suddenly exclaimed. “Who are you?”
“I am Lieutenant Major Edvard Hansen of the Castle Federation Marine Corps,” Edvard introduced himself to the speaker, a hard-bodied woman he was certain was a Marine or Special Ops trooper from somewhere. “My understanding is that you are permitted to organize yourselves—I need to speak to the senior officer. This facility is now under Alliance control.”
She blinked at him like he was speaking a strange language, then a giant grin split her face.
“Of course, sir,” she replied, coming to perfect attention and saluting crisply. “Sergeant Major Amanda Harding, Hessian Space Marines, sir! The Brigadier is going to be happy to see you.”
“Lead the way, Sergeant Major,” he told her. “I look forward to meeting them too.”
02:00 April 3, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
In just over fourteen hours, Battle Group Seven-Two had entered the Huī Xing system, destroyed two Commonwealth battlecruisers, and secured ten prison platforms. Apparently, a platoon commander had spotted a weakness in the space stations, one that wasn’t present unless you’d already boarded them but which made taking control of the facilities surprisingly straightforward.
That control had forced the Terrans to surrender, which meant that Force Commander Kyle Roberts now had the best part of a Commonwealth Marine Division he needed to find somewhere to put. So far, they were being transferred into empty cargo containers in civilian transfer stations.
Unlike the Terrans, he didn’t have custom-built platforms to load them into—and he was taking the Terrans’ custom-built platforms with him.
“How long are we looking at to load the platforms into the freighters?” he asked. This deep inside Xin’s gravity well, it would take his fleet over an hour to reach space where they could bring up their Alcubierre-Stetson drives and escape. Given that his orders had been to stay outside the gravity well, that was making him twitchy.
“They’re still assessing how they’re going to fit them in,” Anderson told him quietly. “It’s going to take them twelve hours just to offload what they’re already carrying. I’m assuming we want the satellites dropped into orbit in autonomous mode?”
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed. “We’re going to have to run, but let’s not leave Xin entirely in their hands.”
“Best guess, yeah…” His XO added numbers in his head. “Twelve hours to offload the fighter platforms and missile satellites. We’ll have to use starfighters to position them, but I think the CAG’s people should be down for that.
“After that, seven hours per platform to load into the transport,” the other man continued. “If everything goes exactly to schedule, we’ll be clear to move at eleven hundred hours tomorrow.”
“What about the prisoners we’re moving onto the Marine ships?” Kyle asked.
“That’s why we’ll need the fighters to place the missile platforms,” Anderson replied grimly. “I’m commandeering every shuttle in the battle group to move people from Platforms Nine and Ten,” — Kyle’s implant cooperatively highlighted the two space stations in questions— “over to the three assault transports. That is going to take twenty-six hours. They’ll be done before the other eight platforms are loaded into the transports.”
Kyle had updated timers on his mental displays as Anderson spoke, and sighed. “If we’re wrong about where they left Zahn for, we’re going to cut this damned tight,” he warned his XO. “A seven-day variance in possible enemy arrival times makes me itch.”
“Intel says the near-term arrival is a low-order probability,” his XO replied.
“Yes, and Intel told us that they’d divided their fleet into nicely digestible three-ship packets,’ Avalon’s Captain pointed out. “We need to plan for worst-case. Get with Commander Pendez,” he ordered. “I want full high-speed evasion courses worked out for all likely arrival vectors of their fleet.
“I’ll freely admit I’ve stuck our heads in the bear trap, James. Make sure we know our way out.”
A moment later, the current com officer flashed Kyle a warning note. The Force Commander looked away from Anderson to meet the young woman’s gaze and nodded to her.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We’re being pinged by someone on the planet,” she told him. “It’s from a relay transmitter in one of the mountain ranges—I could trace the original source if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant,” Kyle said. “It appears the resistance is reaching out to us. I’ll take it in my office.”
It wouldn’t do to disappoint a planetary government-in-hiding in public, after all.
Kyle dropped into his chair, took half a moment to make sure he was in front of the big commissioning seal on the wall behind him, and then accepted the transmission.
“This is Force Commander Kyle Roberts, Castle Federation Space Navy. To whom am I speaking?” he asked calmly.
It took a moment for his response to filter through whatever relays the Xin had set up and garner a reply of its own. Several seconds after his transmission went out, his implant informed him a proper communication channel had been established, and the image of a tall Asian woman appeared on his wallscreen.
“I am Deputy Premier Wen Lau of the Republic of Huī Xing,” she told him. “We have noted the destruction of Commonwealth space forces in this system, and I am forced to ask what your intentions with regards to Xin are.”
There was still an occupation garrison, a full division strong, scattered across Xin’s surface.
“The occupation force has not responded to my summons for them to surrender,” Kyle told her. “I do not have the capability at this time to launch a ground assault—we are expecting a significant Commonwealth force to arrive in system in under forty-eight hours.”
“Twenty-Third Fleet, yes,” Wen Lau confirmed. Kyle made a mental note of the Terran force’s name—it would help to have a name rather than constantly referring to it as “the nodal fleet.” “Do you intend to do nothing, then, Force Commander? Why are you even here?”
“The exact details of my mission are classified,” Kyle warned her. Tightbeam transmissions with relays were as secure as anything short of a Q-Com link could be, but he had no idea how large Wen’s staff was. She was on his list of contacts on Xin, but even that didn’t mean she hadn’t been compromised herself.
“We are in the process of rescuing the prisoners held in orbit,” he continued. “I hope that by not engaging the surface forces, I can minimize the chance of retaliation once the—Twenty-Third Fleet, you said?—returns.”
She blinked, a momentary gesture that made Kyle think he’d hit a nerve, then continued in a steady voice.
“I see your logic, Force Commander. Do you have any listing of the prisoners?” she asked, the steadiness wavering. “My…wife was a guardship commander in our system fleet. I do not even know if she survived.”
“We are extracting that from the Terrans’ computers as we speak,” he told her. “I will have my people forward it to you as soon as we have a complete list of Huī Xing prisoners. If your wife is alive, we will take her safely from this system with the rest of the prisoners.
“However, I have no choice but to ask you to refrain from action on the surface. If we keep our activities in orbit and you do not attack the garrison on the surface, you should be safe from Commonwealth retaliation.”
The Deputy Premier sighed and bowed her head.
“I understand,” she confessed. “I will pass your suggestions on to the Premier with my agreement. We will keep our heads down—I can only hope you
will be back soon.”
“I can make no promises,” Kyle told her. “All I can say is ‘That’s classified.’”
And hopefully, she would understand that meant they would be back sooner rather than later. If Via Somnia fell, Huī Xing would soon be free.
Deep Space, en route to Via Somnia System
08:00 April 3, 2736 ESMDT
BC-129 Camerone, Admiral’s Breakout Room
“Just what did you feed your boyfriend before we sent him off to be the distraction?” Rear Admiral Alstairs asked Mira sourly. “I was under the impression his reputation was inflated.”
Mira sighed, glancing at the wallscreen in Alstairs’ office that showed the tactical situation in Huī Xing. The most notable aspects of that display were the faded red intersecting spheres around Xin and Goudeshijie marking the gravity well in which Battle Group Seven-Two couldn’t go faster than light—and the green icons of said Battle Group deep inside those spheres.
“Would you have done differently?” she asked quietly, tapping the other set of green icons—the ten red-ringed green disks representing the holding facilities. “They’re still getting a final count on how many people are aboard those stations, but Kyle’s last update had it at over ninety thousand prisoners.
“Would you really have wanted us to stand by and leave those people in imprisonment?”
Alstairs sighed, her gaze following Mira’s tap.
“No,” she admitted. “But I don’t trust intel’s assessment of where this Twenty-Third Fleet was headed—if I did, we’d be hitting Via Somnia as soon as we could get there, not stopping a light-month out to wait and see what happens in Huī Xing.”
“I doubt Kyle does either,” Mira reminded the Admiral. “If they have nine days—eight now, at best—there’s no need for the level of rush his people are doing. With a week, Seven-Two could secure the surface and help the local government dig in, give the Terrans even more reasons to bypass Huī Xing and meet us at Via Somnia.”
The Admiral gave a command through her implant, and the display zoomed in on Seven-Two’s icons. Shuttles were swarming over two of the platforms, even as the larger parasite tugs worked to move the fighter platforms the Alliance had gone to so much expense to deliver out of the logistics platforms.
“I already gave him permission to blow the Citadels,” she admitted. “If the Terrans take a week to show up, we’re going to look damned foolish. They’re cheaper than starships, but…”
“And if the Terrans show up tomorrow, ditching those stations may be the only thing that allows Kyle to pull off the largest prisoner rescue in the last eighty or ninety years,” Mira pointed out. “I think everyone will call that worth it.”
“I hope so,” Alstairs told her. “This is one of those cases where I’m glad I sent Kyle, because he didn’t follow his orders to the letter, and furious he didn’t follow his orders,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But if this goes wrong, history will remember him as the man who disobeyed orders and got his battle group destroyed.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Mira said with a shiver. Her relationship with Kyle was still…formative. They hadn’t had much time together since she’d left Avalon for Camerone, and before then, they’d both been trying hard to deny their interest in each other.
She needed the big man to survive long enough for them to sort out just what they had between them.
“So do I,” the Admiral agreed. “My reasons are notably less personal,” she continued dryly, “but I’d like very much if this plan works out with both Battle Group Avalon and Kyle Roberts intact.”
32
Huī Xing System
15:00 April 3, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Captain’s Office
“So, with a day to think on it, would you do anything differently?” Mira asked Kyle quietly.
He shook his head, smiling at her.
“No,” he told her. “The risk might be making my shoulders itch, but I couldn’t stand by and leave those prisoners behind.”
“Have you even spoken to any of them?” his lover asked.
He laughed.
“Now that you mention it, no,” he admitted. “I’ve had a few messages relayed through the Marines, but I haven’t spoken to any of them directly. Ninety-six thousand people,” he said in an awed voice with a shrug. “But I can’t go over there, and it’s not like we can divert a shuttle to bring anyone over here just to satisfy my curiosity. I have a job to do.”
She shook her head at him.
“If this goes wrong, there are people who will hang you out to dry for disobeying orders,” she warned him. “And you aren’t even going to meet the people you’ve risked it all to save?”
“I don’t need to,” he told her, smiling as he thought about it. “They’re soldiers and spacers, just like those I’ve fought alongside and served alongside for years. They stood to defend their worlds, and the Gods dealt them a shitty hand.
“I could no more leave them behind than I could leave you behind,” he concluded. “They are my brothers- and sisters-in-arms, just as much as if they’d served on Avalon. We owe them this.”
“You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But…be safe? All duty aside, you big lug, I want you to make it back. Still so much we need to learn.”
“I know,” he agreed softly. “I need to meet your sister. You need to meet my son. We need to, well”—he laughed—“get to know each other better. See how things end.”
“I don’t care how they end, so long as it’s not soon,” Mira told him. “The beginning is going swimmingly—don’t you dare get yourself killed before we even begin to find out what the middle looks like!”
“Believe me, my dear,” Kyle replied brightly, “I do not intend to do any such thing.”
The problem, as both of them knew without him saying a word, was that intentions weren’t going to matter much if the Commonwealth’s timing was right.
18:00 April 3, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Observation Deck
Kyle wasn’t quite hiding as he sat in Avalon’s quietest observation deck, watching the firefly lights of dozens—hundreds—of spacecraft swarming through Xin orbit. He could pick out the patterns in swarm that would be invisible to a layman. This swarm of lights along these lines was the Marine assault shuttles transporting the prisoners—still!—to the cargo transfer stations being used as prison camps, while that swarm of lights was starfighters moving missile satellites into position, and those lights were the constant stream of small craft moving the rescued prisoners to the three Marine assault transports.
Hundreds of smaller spacecraft and over a hundred thousand souls, all moving in accordance with his commands and his will. It was a heady feeling.
It was a sickening feeling.
His choices had brought them here, and if he had guessed wrong, a lot of those people were going to die. The Terrans probably wouldn’t intentionally target the transports, but even a single rogue missile could destroy a logistics transport with forty thousand rescuees aboard. The assault transports looked more like warships and were more likely to be attacked, but they at least had warship-grade defenses.
“Let me guess: you’re hiding in here to worry so you can put on a bright, cheerful face when you have to talk to everybody else?” Michael Stanford asked from behind him.
Kyle laughed, turning around to find his CAG crossing the observation deck toward him.
“I don’t ‘worry,’ Vice Commodore Stanford,” he told the other man. “I consider strategies and operational consequences.”
“Like I said, worrying,” Stanford confirmed. He tossed Kyle a beer.
Kyle looked at it and recognized it as one of his small-brewery beers picked up on Frihet.
“Did you raid my stash?” he asked.
“Nah, just your office fridge when I went looking for you there first,” the CAG replied. “If it helps your ‘consideration of strategies and operational consequences’, we’l
l have the last of the satellites emplaced inside an hour. All they’re going to do is open fire on the first big non-Alliance ship they see, so the planet is effectively blockaded until they’re gone or we shut them down.”
“We passed that on to the locals,” Kyle noted. “They can warn off everybody—including the Terrans, for that matter. It serves everyone’s purposes that way.”
It had turned out that Wen Min, Wen Lau’s wife, had survived the First Battle of Huī Xing and was one of the prisoners they had rescued. The Huī Xing government-in-hiding’s cooperativeness had gone from “present but grudging” to “significant” almost instantly, once they’d provided the list of prisoners.
“Everything else is running on schedule,” the Force Commander told Stanford. He might have been “hiding” on the observation deck, but it wasn’t entirely hyperbole to say he could command the carrier from anywhere aboard.
“I’d like it to be running faster,” Kyle continued. “I want to be outside the gravity well ten minutes ago—but I’m also not abandoning the transports until we can get them clear.”
“Are we sending them straight back, then?” Stanford asked.
“All the way to Alizon,” Kyle confirmed. “It’s a thirty-light-year straight trip—eleven days, give or take a few hours. I’m pretty sure there is at least one person on the surface with a telescope and a Commonwealth Q-Com, so, sadly, the attempt to make us look bigger is probably a bust.
“Since that’s the case, and since I wouldn’t want to risk the transports in combat now we’ve stuffed them full of rescuees, the best thing we can do is get them out of the line of fire,” he concluded. “And as soon as they’re loaded, that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”
“Doesn’t that risk the mission, though?” Stanford asked quietly. “Are four ships really going to be enough bait to bring the entire Twenty-Third Fleet here?”
Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon Page 89