by Jay Allan
Vennius didn’t answer. He turned his head, looking out the window, now shattered, the cool night air pouring in along. The sounds of battle had died down already—the result, he supposed, of the rebels gaining control of their objectives. But there was still combat, in the north. He moved toward the window, staring out at the great structure overlooking the sea. There were flashes of gunfire all around it, and explosions as well.
Of course…I gave Calavius control over the capital garrison…but he wouldn’t have been able to infiltrate the Imperial Guards. They would still be loyal…but they will be overwhelmed.
“We need to get every soldier you brought with you, Lentius.”
“Commander? We have to get you out…”
“No,” he said, his voice like iron. He walked around his desk, reaching down into one of the drawers and pulling out a heavy pistol, old with a battered grip worn smooth from use. He looked up, his eyes cold, resolute, moving from one of the soldiers in the room to another. “We have to get to the palace. Now. We have to save the Imperatrix.”
Chapter Nine
Dannith Naval Base
Geosynchronous Orbit
Planet Dannith, Ventica III
309 AC
Barron watched the small shapes moving around his ship’s hull—tenders, freight carriers, even clusters of workers, clad in heavy space suits, completing the final bits of work on the rejuvenated battleship. Dauntless had been old when he’d taken command, and more than a little worn by years of service, but that was nothing compared to the punishment his beloved vessel had endured at his hands. She had been battered and patched back together so many times over the past four years, he was stunned that she had endured, that she had continued to give him what he needed…and gotten his people through one desperate situation after another.
She was almost unrecognizable now. After several fits and starts in terms of repairs over three years of war, Dauntless had finally gotten her just due. A complete overhaul. The battered and pitted sections of her armored hull had been replaced with shining new sheets of alloy. The burned and melted wreckage where half her secondary batteries had been blown away was replaced by gleaming new guns. The sight of her looking almost new was emotional for him, and he took a deep breath, even as a smile made its way onto his lips.
“She looks great, doesn’t she, Captain?” Anya Fritz had walked up behind him, but Barron had been so lost in thought about his ship’s rebirth, he hadn’t heard a sound.
He turned and glanced at his chief engineer. “She looks magnificent, Fritzie. I still can’t understand how you kept her going before, with all the damage and wear. That should be a bit easier now, at least.” His smiled slipped just a bit. “I’m hearing rumors that you didn’t take any of your shore leave. That you stayed here and worked with the crews.”
“I took a week off, sir. Took a tour of Dannith, saw the red crystal beds and the magma river. It was interesting…for about two days.” She paused. “You know me, sir. How could I not be there when they stripped Dauntless down? They took her apart and put her back together again, better than ever. And I was part of the whole thing.” The engineer was smiling, and he could hear the sincerity in her words.
“From what I was told, you tried to run the whole show. I’ve heard two things from the engineering staff since I’ve been back. ‘Commander Fritz is a technical genius,’ and ‘Commander Fritz is an unrelenting pain in the ass.’”
Fritz nodded, allowing a little chuckle to escape her lips. “I may have been a bit pushy, sir. But it’s my people who will have to keep all this fancy new stuff functioning in battle.” She paused. Then she continued, her voice a bit grimmer. “We know what it is like, sir, don’t we? What it’s really like.”
Barron nodded slowly. “We do, Fritzie.” He turned and looked at Fritz. “Which is one more reason I wish you’d taken more of a break. We’re heading back to the front, and there’s no way of knowing when we’ll have another leave.”
“I’m fine, sir. I feel rested, in my own way. Working in a spacedock with no one shooting at you…it’s almost like a vacation. And I have my handprints on everything in there, Captain. When those Union bastards start shooting us up again, there won’t be a circuit or a system I don’t know like the back of my hand.
“I was going to check with the yard chief, but I suspect I’d be better off asking you. When will she be ready to set out?”
“She’s already had a test run, sir. The reactors are fully fueled and operational, and all power systems check out. Almost everything is ready to go.” She gestured toward the observation panel, and the flurry of motion beyond. “Most of that is just minor adjustment, and repairs on problems found during the shakedown cruise. They should be done tomorrow, or the day after at the latest. The new fighters are uncrated and waiting in bay twelve. They’ll start shipping them over tomorrow. Figure three days to load up the holds with food and other expendables.” She paused for a few seconds. “I’d say a week, sir, if everything goes smoothly. A few extra days if last minute problems crop up.”
That was sooner than Barron had expected, a fact he owed, no doubt, to Fritz’s involvement. He’d been prepared for a month’s wait or more, but now the prospect of returning to full duty was on him. He felt strange in a way, after so much time with Andi, but he also knew he was going home. That this was where he belonged.
“Well, Fritzie, I still wish you’d gotten more of a rest, but you have my thanks for taking care of our baby here.” Barron took one last look at his ship. Then he turned toward his engineer. “I think I’ll see if I can find Atara, and catch up on other business. Make sure everybody else made it back from shore leave in one piece…or if I have to extricate any of the fighter pilots from some base’s brig.”
* * *
“Andi!” Vig Merrick had been walking across the landing bay toward Lafarge, but now he broke into a run. He raced up and threw his arms around her. “It is so good to see you!”
“And you, Vig,” she replied, grabbing onto him and returning the hug. She had lost herself on her vacation with Tyler. She’d never been away from her ship or her people for so long, not since they’d first set out together. But Pegasus had been laid up in spacedock, and while Admiral Striker had agreed to repair her ship at the navy’s expense, she knew the schedule was subject to the needs of the fleet’s warships. The work on Pegasus should have taken perhaps two months, but she’d known it would be longer, perhaps as much as six. And she’d been right. From all she was told, the final work had been completed just the week before.
“Have you seen her yet?” Merrick pulled back and smiled at her.
“No, I just got back. Have you?”
“Yes…she looks great. They wouldn’t let me go aboard, but I saw her from the outside. She looks almost new!”
Lafarge smiled. “That will be interesting to see.” Pegasus was many things, but in her experience with the vessel, “new” was a word she’d never have used. Her beloved ship had been old when she’d gotten her, at least fifty years, and she’d looked every minute of that. Andi had never been able to piece together a clear picture of what services her ship had performed in its past lives. Pegasus had been built as a scout of sorts, intended to explore asteroid fields for areas worth exploiting for mining. But the assortment of systems that had been added over the years, not all of them entirely legal, suggested a more checkered past, even before Lafarge and her pack of adventurers had stepped aboard for the first time.
She returned Merrick’s smile. “What do you say we go take a look right now?” Lafarge was acting cool, but the truth was, she couldn’t wait to see her ship.
“Let’s do it.”
“Have you seen any of the others?”
“Dolph is back, and Lyn. I don’t think Lex ever left Dannith. As far as I know, he hit the Spacer’s District pretty hard.” He paused. “I think he’s having a little trouble…to be honest, I think most of the crew is. It was…difficult out there, and it’s a little hard to shake. I can’t say
it hasn’t gotten to me a little.”
Lafarge nodded. “I’m not surprised.” She paused. “I’ll see if I can find Lex after we get back from Pegasus. Maybe talking about it will do him some good.” She’d been worried about this sort of thing. Her people were tough, but the last mission had been hard beyond anything they had ever done before. They’d been in danger before, certainly more than once, but this time they’d been dead center in a combat zone, and the theoretical nature of the war with the Union had been replaced by cold reality. They had all come through, no question of that, held it together while they’d had to. If they hadn’t gotten back to Dannith and brought back help, Andi knew she and Vig wouldn’t have made it, that they would most likely have been tortured to death by Sector Nine.
She had a way of dealing with things, of moving forward from almost anything, without regrets or scars that impacted her abilities. But she knew most people weren’t wired in quite the cold-blooded way she was. The fear and stress from something like what they had gone through affected them…and she knew very well, some of her crew—her friends—might struggle to move forward, especially the next time they faced danger.
Though next time won’t be like the last time…
I hope.
“I think that would be helpful, Andi. Maybe you can get him to talk, to let it out. I tried, but he was wound up tight. All he told me was, he was fine. But that’s bullshit.”
The two stood silently for a moment. Finally, Lafarge said, “Well, let’s go see what our ship looks like.”
“Captain Lafarge?”
She spun around. She’d recognized the voice immediately, but she hadn’t really believed it until her eyes confirmed who was standing in front of her.
“Admiral Striker…”
“Have you seen your ship yet?”
“No, sir, I was just heading over there now.” Her voice was its usual emotionless calm, but inside she was on edge. She had no idea what Admiral Striker would be doing at Dannith. The planet was the gateway to the Badlands, but it wasn’t particularly close to either the battle front or the Core and the Iron Belt systems that formed the heart of the Confederation.
“I think you’ll be pleased. I know you’re not accustomed to dealing with the navy like this, and no doubt, not all of my colleagues and predecessors would have fully appreciated your true value as an ally, but I pay my debts, Captain.”
“Thank you, Admiral. It is greatly appreciated.”
“And you weren’t kidding about some of the…unorthodox…stuff you’ve got in that ship. It’s probably the first time a fleet admiral has ordered the base crew to overlook a number of, how shall I put it, less than authorized systems in a civilian craft. But again, as I said, I pay my debts. It was a pleasure having you as an ally, Captain. I trust wherever your travels take you, we will remain such?”
Lafarge smiled, despite the tension she still felt. She’d never heard anyone admonish her to stay out of trouble quite so pleasantly and elegantly. “Of course, Admiral.” She paused, and her tone became a bit more serious. “I am well aware of the debt I owe you.”
“Not at all, Captain. We are even, and I hope friends as well. Perhaps just consider that not all naval personnel are, what did you call us? Jackboots?”
“Yes, sir. I believe that is what I said. Though I would never say that about you.” She smiled again.
“That is gratifying.”
“I’m surprised to see you on Dannith, Admiral.” Lafarge changed the subject abruptly. It was still nagging at her. Why is he here?
“Yes, well my duties take me many places. I just wanted to stop and give you my best wishes, Captain. And to thank you again for all your people did to make the operation at Chrysallis a success.”
“I am glad we were able to help, Admiral.” She almost asked him point blank why he was there, but she knew better than that. Does it have anything to do with Tyler? She realized she was making wild suppositions. But am I? Tyler is the best captain in the fleet…and what else would drag the navy’s commander all the way back to Dannith?
“Best of luck to you, Captain. I sincerely hope we meet again.”
Striker’s words echoed through the thoughts filling her head. “Oh, yes Admiral, I hope so as well.” She hoped she didn’t sound as distracted as she felt. “I’m sure we will,” she added, more out of politeness than actual expectation.
Striker turned and walked away. Lafarge was watching, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She and Barron had said their goodbyes. They’d both agreed their time together was a passing moment, one that would end when they reached Dannith. He had his duties, and she had her own life and responsibilities. They might meet again, have more time together, but only time would tell on that. It had been painful, more so than she’d been willing to admit to herself, but it was the way things had to be. There was a connection between them, a powerful one, but it didn’t change the fact that their lives were heading off on divergent vectors. She considered herself a realist if nothing else, and she would not let herself buy into romantic nonsense that had no place in the real world.
But now she was worried. It was one thing to take off, to fly lightyears away from Barron, knowing he was heading back to war. But somehow the thought of him being sent on another…crazy—she stopped herself before “suicidal” popped into her mind—mission hit her hard. She’d knew Barron could handle being in battle, that his ship and his crew were such a finely tuned instrument, they could handle any normal duty. And some level she knew that was a failure of her normal commitment to realism, though it was one she needed. But now she was filled with dread. Against all her normal logic and cold analytics, suddenly she was overcome by fear, a strange certainty that Tyler Barron would be going into extreme danger. That he would be killed.
“Are you ready, Andi?”
She shook her head as Merrick’s words sunk in, trying to clear the thoughts that had begun to consume her. “Yes…of course. Sorry, I just thought of something I have to do. But let’s go see the ship first.”
Yes, go see Pegasus now. But after that, you’re going to find out what is going on here, why Van Striker is on Dannith…and where he’s sending Tyler…
* * *
“Archellia, sir?” Barron looked across the table at the admiral, unable to hold in the surprise at the orders he’d just been given. “But I thought we’d be assigned to the front.” He paused. “It’s just that…we’ve been all over the place, Admiral. Except in the line with the fleet.” Barron had been stunned when he’d reported for his orders and found that Admiral Striker himself was on Dannith, waiting to brief him. But when the admiral told him where Dauntless was going, his jaw had almost hit the floor.
“I understand your frustrations, Captain. Both because you’ve missed most of the major fleet actions…and also because, quite frankly, your people have been put in even more deadly and dangerous situations time and time again. But I’m afraid there is no alternative this time.” It was Striker’s turn to hesitate now. “Tyler, we may have a major problem with the Alliance, one with potentially deadly implications.”
Barron looked across the table, trying to ignore the pain that was suddenly eating away at his stomach.
“Three years ago, you and your people forestalled disaster with your victory at Santis. Now, we have reason to believe the Union is again attempting to bring the Alliance into the war. We cannot be sure, and I hope this is a false alarm, but we just can’t take the chance.”
Barron took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t argue with the admiral, but he hated the idea of going back to the Rim. The fight his people had endured out there was the most terrible he’d experienced. The thought of going back was…upsetting. There were a lot of ghosts out at Santis.
“What do you want us to do at Archellia, sir? Dauntless is looking great, but it’s not like one battleship can take on an entire Alliance invasion fleet. Archellia had almost nothing three years ago…with the intensity of the fighting on th
e front, I’d be surprised if there was more than a patrol ship or two left there.”
“Three,” Striker said softly. “There are three small patrol vessels, and the base’s fighters, of course…but that’s not why you’re going. Three years ago, you went to the Rim to prevent an invasion, and you did just that, Tyler. You and your people. Now, we need the same thing from you.”
“But, Admiral, I can’t believe the Alliance would send another single ship to probe our defenses. If they come again, they’ll come with everything they have.”
“It’s more complicated than that. We think Sector Nine is heavily involved somehow, trying to get engineer a coup, to get the Alliance to ally with them. We need you to stop it.”
Barron looked back, stunned. “Stop it? How?”
Striker looked down at the table for a few seconds, then back at Barron. “I don’t know, Tyler. You’ll have to decide that when you see what is happening.”
“From Archellia? Or do you want us to advance? Where? To Santis again? The Dragon’s Tail? Into Alliance space?”
“Whatever you feel is necessary and appropriate.” Striker put a small box on the table and pushed it across. “You have been named acting military governor for the Rim Sector and beyond the border. We don’t know what is going on…all we have are guesses. We need someone up there who can make decisions on the spot…without going up the chain of command.”
“Me?” Barron stared back, a mix of shock and horror on his face. “I’m not a flag officer, sir, and I’m certainly not qualified to make decisions like this. What are my guidelines, my boundaries?”
“First, Tyler, you know your promotion to flag rank is as good as done. I only held back on it because I couldn’t exactly take you from your people now, not when almost all of them virtually mutinied to resist promotions that would have moved them from Dauntless. But, while you may have to wait a touch longer for the star, let’s not pretend you’re not of flag grade right now.”