by Jay Allan
“I say this not to defend the actions of those we now face, for they are traitors who must be destroyed. But we must remember, the warriors we battle feel they are serving a cause as well. Most of them, at least, and certainly those of lower ranks…those who will do most of the fighting. They are battling to preserve what they feel the Alliance must be. Indeed, it is the Imperatrix who dared to imagine change, who saw that our ways must adapt, for showing caution in testing the Confederation, and in choosing not to go to war. We now face not the Unaligned Systems or the petty principalities we have battled before. We have grown powerful on our victories, yet perhaps arrogant as well. We have not faced an enemy as strong as the Alliance, not since the early wars, my days sitting at a weapons console and taking orders.” Memories flooded back to Vennius, the feeling of being outnumbered and outmatched in combat. He had almost forgotten what it was to truly doubt victory in a pending battle. You are about to feel that again, old man…
“The Confederation and the Union dwarf us in size and resources. An Alliance warrior fears no enemy, but can he best five adversaries? Ten? Is it bravery to make empty boasts one knows cannot be fulfilled? We must add wisdom to courage and strength as we move forward…and many of our people will struggle with that. Our enemies will have much support, even among those not directly involved in their coup. Many will believe the lies and propaganda they hear, and despise us for traitors. Never let yourself think otherwise, or become overconfident.”
Cassius sat quietly for a moment. Then he said, simply, “I understand, sir.” A few seconds later: “I am with you, Commander-Maximus…you and the Imperatrix. To the end, be that victory…” He paused again. “Or be it death and the loss of all we hold dear.”
Vennius extended his hand, reaching across the table to grasp Cassius’s arm. As before, the difference in their ranks made gesture unorthodox, if not outright improper. But that didn’t matter anymore. Victory or defeat, life or death, Vennius understood that all he knew was about to change. Had already changed.
Cassius froze for an instant, but then he clasped Vennius’s arm, returning the handshake. He looked right at Vennius. “So, what do we do, sir? How do we begin the fight?”
“We must secure the squadron stationed here. You have three battleships and a number of escorts, correct?”
“Yes, Commander. Draconis, Impetus, and Aquila. Supported by five frigates and five light escorts.”
Vennius had known the order of battle, of course, but fatigue and tension had driven it from easy recollection. Draconis and Impetus were fairly modern, moderately heavy, battleships. They would be welcome in the line in the battle in the fights that no doubt lay ahead. Aquila was an older ship, one that traced its history back almost as far as he himself did. Still, she had a history as a lucky ship, and even the twenty-four fighters in her small bays would be helpful.
Four battleships…to take on the rest of the fleet? No, we must have more strength, much more…
“We must rally more of the fleet to our cause, get our own message out, counter the lies and propaganda our enemies are spreading. The escorts…we must send them out at once, Commander. To every base and outpost we can reach. I will record a message, a call to the warriors of the fleet to join us.” Vennius was filled with doubts. He’d given Calavius too much time, and he feared his appeal would be viewed by many as the lies of a traitor on the run. But there was no choice.
“Yes, Commander, of course. We should prepare a list of destinations. The longer we wait, the likelier the traitors will arrive here and blockade us in.”
“That is true, Gaius. But there is something we must do first. Something difficult and upsetting.”
“Sir?”
“We must be sure of the officers we send out. Certain of their loyalty. It is good that we got here before any courier from Calavius’s regime, yet that is far from surety. It is likely the plotters attempted to secure allies in every major base or fleet formation, and just as possible that there are those in your command who will sympathize with the…others.” He’d almost said traitors, but he stopped himself. It was tempting to voice his anger in every characterization of his adversaries, but he knew he faced a fight, most likely the hardest of his life. They might be traitors to his way of thinking, but they were Alliance warriors, and he knew just how savagely they would fight.
“How? I know some of the officers well enough to vouch for them. But that is not nearly all of them, even of the ship commanders.”
“Even those you would vouch for deserve scrutiny. I would have stood up and shouted my support of Calavius…before he came to my office and tried to kill me.”
“So, what then? We have no time for extensive investigations, nor, I suspect, will an inquisition do much for morale.”
“No, nothing public. Nor anything time consuming. We must simply do our best. You, Egilius, Aurelius, Lentius, and I. The five of us are beyond question.” That wasn’t entirely true. Vennius was almost certain about Cassius, but nothing would be served by acknowledging whatever minor doubts he harbored. He needed the base commander, and for all the crackling of his enhanced suspicions, he knew he had to trust his judgment. There were no certainties in this game, only good bets. And he’d put his money on Cassius.
“We will interview the commanders of each ship, and I will direct Bellator’s AI to review the base records—every communication, every action undertaken by any officer in the squadron over the past half year. Only those who pass both of these tests, the computer’s dispassionate review and the gut feel of one of us in person, will remain in command.”
Cassius had a worried look on his face.
“You are concerned, Cassius, that we will relieve loyal officers. Correct?”
“Yes, sir. A rushed investigation of the sort you propose can only achieve one of two things. Either it will allow some of the guilty to slip through, or it will create many false positives. We may cause grievous insult to loyal officers. Perhaps even drive them to the other side.”
“All you say is true, my friend. Yet what alternative is there? We must get ships underway, within a day, if not hours, and we must do all we can to assure the reliability of those we send. All we can do is seek to make amends to those wrongfully relieved.” He paused. “But they will not go to the other side, not if they are truly loyal. What Palatian would sell his allegiance because he feels slighted? No one we want on our side.”
“Very well, Commander.” Cassius sounded somewhat convinced, if not entirely. Vennius understood. It wasn’t danger that was the hardest part of the way, nor of loss of those close to one. It was not arduous labors or pain or exhaustion. No, the true test of a Palatian’s heart was the willingness to do that one found repugnant when such was necessary, when the alternative was even more unthinkable. Vennius knew he would ask much of the warriors who supported his cause. Death of course, for many of them at least, but more than that. He wondered if, even with victory, any of them would ever be the same again.
“Let us get started, Commander. I trust you can arrange for maximum discretion. I’d like to withhold knowledge of the coup from all but a select group, at least until we’ve had a chance to screen the ship commanders and the key base personnel. Assuming we get that much time before Calavius’s forces get here.”
“I agree, sir. We must have as much in place as possible before any traitorous forces arrive.”
“Do your best to place those you most trust in security positions, also, Gaius.” The more Vennius considered it, the more convinced he became that the plotters had personnel in place, waiting for word the coup had succeeded. It was crucial to maintain control of the fortress against internal attack or sabotage.
“I will, sir. I’ll do that first. I have a few stormtrooper officers I am sure are loyal. I will ensure that they are on duty…and I will have the armories locked down under my access codes.”
“Very good, Commander. We’d best get started.”
“Yes, sir.” Cassius stood and saluted. Th
en he turned back toward the door.
“Gaius?”
“Sir?” The officer turned back.
“Do you have one ship commander you trust completely? One you can vouch for here and now?”
Cassius hesitated, a sign Vennius took to suggest he’d gotten through to the officer, convinced him of the need for grave caution. “Yes, sir. Two, perhaps three.”
“Choose one. Whomever you trust the most. I have a mission of enormous importance…and I need a ship ready to leave within the hour. A fast ship.”
“Arias Corpus. He commands Hastam, a newer frigate, one of the fastest ships in the fleet.”
“I would have Commander Corpus deliver a message for me.”
“A message?”
“Yes.” Vennius paused. “A request for aid.”
“Aid?”
“Yes, Gaius…” Vennius hesitated. He knew what he intended was not the way of the Alliance. But there was no alternative. Calavius was too far ahead. The Imperatrix was in Bellator’s sickbay, gravely wounded and unconscious. Without her voice added to his, he would struggle to counter his enemy’s lies. He was without resources, cut off from even his own family fortune, while Calavius had immense piles of Union coin. He would fight, alone if need be, but even with the ships he could reasonably hope to rally to his side, he knew in his heart he would lose. If he had to change to prevail, he would do just that. If the way had to evolve, then so be it. Sixty years of Alliance history would be for nothing if Calavius won…and led the Palatians into Union servitude, a threat his old friend was too foolish to see through his lust for power.
Vennius looked right at his ally. “Commander Corpus will take my message to Archellia. Calavius has the support of the Union, and warrior’s pride is not enough to overcome that. We need our own ally.” He paused, feeling almost as though he would choke on his words. Images of Kat slipped into his mind, thoughts of her dead at the hands of the Confederation.
Yes, they killed her…she was the best the Alliance had, and one of their ships defeated her. We must have that strength on our side.
It was a test of his own will, to look past the rage he felt for the loss of someone he considered a daughter. But she had been a warrior as well, and her vessel had been the invader. The Confederation captain who had killed her had been doing his duty, and no more.
She would be the first to agree. There is no choice. We must have help.
“We must seek help from the Confederation, Gaius. It is the only way we can prevail. The only way to save the Alliance.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
CFS Dauntless
Approaching Archellia, Cassiopolis III
309 AC
“Archellia Base Command, this is CFS Dauntless, requesting permission to approach and dock.”
Barron sat in his seat quietly, listening as Travis went through the formal procedure of requesting clearance. He knew she remembered as well as he did how meticulously the base personnel had taken their identification and security precautions last time Dauntless had been there.
“Dauntless, this is Archellia Base Control. Welcome back. You are cleared to dock at portal three.”
Barron almost laughed at the new informality. He likely would have laughed had he not been so tense about the mission…or if his thoughts hadn’t been on the desperate combat his people had fought the last time they’d been out on the Rim. They’d been in battles since, terrible ones, but the struggle at Santis had been his first, and it had been a holocaust. He knew he would never forget it. It had changed him, in ways that had developed him as a commanding officer, and in others he regretted. And now he was back.
“Acknowledged, Archellia Base Command.” He could hear the faint amusement in Travis’s voice as well. Three years of war had changed many things, even in a backwater far from the battle lines, and the prickly attention to pointless details appeared to have given way to more practical process.
“A little easier this time, sir.” Travis did allow a tiny smile to slip onto her lips.
“No doubt they’ve had exhausted and wounded personnel rotated in from the front…and some of the second-tier rookies have likely seen tours on the battlelines.” The war had affected the whole Confederation, and Barron doubted there was anyone who hadn’t been shaken by how close the Union had come to breaking through. “Anyway, let’s take advantage of it, shall we, before they ask for timestamped orders in triplicate. Bring us in, Commander.”
“Yes, sir,” Travis replied sharply.
Barron leaned back in his chair, his thoughts slipping again to the mission, and the frustrating lack of any details or concrete information. He understood why Striker had sent him—though he wasn’t sure he was totally convinced he was the one most likely to get somewhere with Alliance counterparts. He knew the Alliance had a culture that was…different…from the Confederation’s, but he had defeated Commander Rigellus and destroyed her vessel. He’d learned a bit more about Rigellus from the Confederation’s sparse intelligence files after Dauntless had returned to Archellia, and what he’d read had only confirmed the favorable impression he’d gotten of his doomed adversary. He felt as though they could have been friends if they’d encountered each other in different circumstances. She had been an enormously respected and popular officer. He imagined the Alliance sending the commander who had killed him and destroyed Dauntless to negotiate with Admiral Striker.
“Captain, we’re getting a flash transmission. Admiral Lowery would like to see both of us in his office as soon as we dock.”
Barron glanced back, a surprised look on his face. “Old Lowery is still here, eh?” He’d known that already, of course. He’d just blurted it out to cover his own surprise at the admiral’s summons. Lowery was a bit of a stuffed shirt, as he recalled, so maybe it was just pointless formality. But his gut told him otherwise.
“Advise the admiral we will be there promptly, Commander.” Was it possible something had happened? If Sector Nine was really at work in the Alliance, anything was possible. His stomach tightened. Maybe Lowery had word of Alliance forces moving toward Confederation space…or even crossing the border.
Barron hadn’t known what to expect, but Admiral Striker wouldn’t have sent him if he hadn’t been worried about Union activity in the Alliance. What do I do if we’re too late, if the Alliance is already set to invade? Buy time, that’s what the admiral said. But what can I do with one ship against the entire Alliance fleet?
“Bring us in as quickly as possible, Commander.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And hold all shore leaves for the present. I want all personnel aboard and ready for action until further notice.” That one would get some groans, he knew, but he didn’t much care, not now. His whole crew had just had an extended leave…and if he needed them on short notice, missing out on a few days of Archellia’s mundane spacer’s haven would be the least of their problems.
* * *
“Captain Barron, Commander Travis…thank you for coming so promptly.” Lowery stood outside the door to the conference room.
“Of course, Admiral.” Barron snapped off a salute, followed immediately by Travis. He remembered Lowery as a rather more officious officer, one who certainly would never have thanked a subordinate for following his orders, regardless of their difference in fame and stature. He’s scared of something…
“Your communique made it seem important, sir.” Barron added the last bit as an afterthought.
“It is, Captain. Extremely so.” A short pause. “I am glad you are here. You can probably…handle…the situation better than I. I think it is more in line with your experiences.”
“May I ask what it is, sir?”
“I will show you. If you will both follow me…” He turned and put his hand over a sensor on the wall. The door slid open to the side, revealing a large meeting room with a table long enough for at least a dozen people. There was one man sitting quietly at the far end. He was wearing a uniform, one Barron couldn’t place. Then it
occurred to him. He was looking across the room at an Alliance officer.
He turned toward Lowery. “Sir…”
“Captain Barron, I want to introduce you to Commander-Princeps Arias Corpus of the Alliance navy.” Lowery turned toward his guest. “Commander Corpus, this is Captain Tyler Barron and Commander Atara Travis. As you may or may not know, I believe the rank of commander is somewhat different in our service than in yours. Commander Travis is the captain’s first officer on Dauntless.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Captain Barron.” Corpus rose as he spoke. “Your exploits are known even in the Alliance. And your ship, of course.” Barron could hear true respect in the officer’s voice, and something else, a harder edge. Barron hadn’t been completely sure his name was attached in the Alliance to the battle with Invictus…at least until now.
“An honor for us as well, Commander-Princeps.” Barron had studied up on his Alliance history and doctrine, at least from the meager data available. A commander-princeps was the equivalent of a Confederation captain. “It is a surprise to find you here.” He glanced over at Lowery. “I assume something significant is behind your visit.”
“I think it is best if Commander Corpus explains to you, Captain. I have received orders to assist you in any way. Despite our…differences…in rank, you have been granted final authority over all matters involving the Alliance.”
Ah…that explains why he seems so…subdued…
“Please, Commander…” Barron gestured for the Alliance officer to sit again. He flashed a look at Travis, and the two sat down, facing Corpus. “Now, what brings you to Archellia?”
“I will not waste your time with diplomatic niceties, Captain. It is not our way.” Corpus’s tone was polite, but there was a hardness behind it. Barron had an idea how uncomfortable the Alliance officer was…being in the Confederation, and, he suspected, about to ask for some kind of help.
“Please, Commander. I welcome your directness.”