Echoes of Glory (Blood on the Stars Book 4)

by Jay Allan

  “There was a coup in the Alliance. Traitors recruited and funded by the Union have seized control of Palatia. They control most central government functions as well as an undetermined, but significant, percentage of the fleet.”

  The Corpus’s presence meant something important had happened, but Barron still found himself stunned. He’d asked for directness, and that was just what he’d gotten.

  “I trust there is ongoing opposition? You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.”

  “There is, Captain. Commander-Maximus Tarkus Vennius escaped Palatia, with the Imperatrix and a small force.” He paused, glancing down at the table for a few seconds. “I am afraid Her Supremacy is severely wounded. She was in a coma when I left.”

  “Left where?”

  Corpus paused again, a little uncomfortably this time. “Commander Vennius has established a base where he is rallying support. I came from there.”

  Barron understood that Corpus wasn’t ready to tell him just where the base was located. He wasn’t offended—rather, his respect for the officer’s caution and judgment grew. “What is Commander Vennius’s tactical situation?”

  “He has rallied some forces, but…” Another pause. Barron could see the Palatian had difficulty speaking of weaknesses to a foreigner. Not helpful in the current circumstances, but again, understandable.

  “Commander, I appreciate your caution. No doubt I would feel much the same in your shoes. But you came here, obviously seeking something from us. I respectfully suggest you tell me the entire situation. Nothing we speak of will leave this room.”

  “Admiral Lowery advises me you will make the decision on how to respond to my requests?”

  Barron glanced over at the admiral and then back to the Alliance officer. He sighed softly, trying to hide it as well as he could. The authority Striker and Holsten had given him was perhaps the last thing he wanted. But that didn’t matter. He had his orders…and the responsibility that went with them.

  “Yes, Commander. I will make any decisions regarding the Confederation’s response. And I must know everything before I decide how to proceed.”

  The officer paused again, and Barron could feel the man’s eyes moving over him, assessing. Finally, he nodded. “Very well, Captain Barron. Commander Vennius is cut off from headquarters, from the Admiralty, and from the Alliance’s main transportation and communications hubs.” He hesitated again, looking even more uncomfortable than he had before. “The Alliance has a very centralized system of command and supply, Captain. When the commander lost Palatia, he lost easy access to the rest of the fleet and to supplies. We can only guess how successful the traitors have been at suborning ships and legions to their cause. They have total control of the media and of communications, so it is likely that even loyal warriors will be deceived into supporting them.”

  “The situation sounds grave, Commander. What would you have me do?”

  “I am here to request Confederation intervention. To ask that you send ships and soldiers to assist us in the war against these traitors.”

  Barron knew the Alliance culture was a blunt one, but he was still surprised by the straightforward way the officer had just asked him to involve the Confederation in another war.

  “Commander…I sympathize with your situation, but we are already at war. Our resources are stretched as it is.”

  “I have a recorded message from Admiral Vennius, Captain.” The officer reached into a pocket and pulled out a small tablet. “May I play it?”

  “Yes,” Barron replied, looking briefly back at Travis, who gave him an “I don’t know any more about this than you” look.

  The officer touched the small screen.

  “To whatever officer or leader of the Confederation is listening to this message, I am Tarkus Vennius, Commander-Maximus of the Alliance…and now leader of the resistance forces. The Alliance has been subverted by a coup executed by a group of disloyal officers, but planned and funded by the Union.”

  Barron listened to the voice. The speaker was old, he could tell that much. And tired. No, exhausted. But he could hear strength there too. He scolded himself for thinking he could tell anything meaningful about this man by listening to a taped message…but he believed it nevertheless. Whatever else the speaker might be, he was clearly a leader, and for all the fatigue in his hoarse tone, Barron was willing to bet he wasn’t beaten yet.

  “I ask now for your aid, for active Confederation military intervention, for supplies and logistical support. I know this is an audacious request. I acknowledge now what we have refused to admit previously, that our vessel Invictus was sent to probe your defenses three years ago. We have had little contact, and by no reasonable standard can we claim to have been your friends. Still, I ask for your help, and I urge you to grant my request for a single reason. Because our needs align. We face the same dangers, the same enemy.”

  Barron could feel his stomach tightening. He’d already come to the conclusion he knew Vennius was approaching. He dreaded the position it would put him in, and his mind raced for an escape. But there was none.

  “The Union has instigated this coup for a single reason, to gain effective control over the Alliance and to bring it into the war against the Confederation. If our resistance fails, if the traitorous forces are able to establish and stabilize control over the Alliance and its armed forces, there is no doubt the Confederation will face all-out invasion. For me, and for those who follow me, the price of failure will be death, for we will never yield. For the Confederation, the consequences will be no less severe, a two-front war I can only assume will leave you hard-pressed to hold your enemies back on either frontier.”

  Barron couldn’t believe what he was hearing, all the more because it was exactly what he’d expected. He wanted to react, to rub his hands on his temples, to shake his head…to scream out loud. But he sat like a statue, listening.

  “I urge you, therefore, to send what forces you can to Alliance space, to come to our aid while there is still time. As Commander-Maximus and acting leader while the Imperatrix is wounded, I make this offer. Help us defeat the traitors, and regain control of Palatia and the Alliance…and when that is done, we will stand by you in return. We will declare war on the Union, provide forces to aid in your ultimate victory, and when that war is won, the Confederation and the Alliance will remain allies.”

  Barron could tell how difficult it was for the speaker to ask for help, and he was even more certain the words he was hearing were sincere.

  “This is not our way, to ask for help and to promise treaties. We have always stood alone, fought alone, and it is unthinkable to acknowledge that we cannot prevail on our own. Yet, times change, and so must we. If you do not aid us, we will fight. We will rally every ship and every warrior we can, and we will struggle to our last breaths. And we will lose. Then you shall bear the assault alone, trapped between two Union claws. You must decide…shall we fight together, and prevail, or fight alone…and fall. I speak for the true government of the Alliance. My words are my warrior’s bond, and I shall die before I fail to keep any promise I have made.”

  Corpus pushed the tablet across the table. “Commander-Maximus Tarkus directed me to play this message for you and then to give you the tablet so you may review it and the information it contains.” Corpus paused, clearly uncomfortable again. “There are detailed files, a complete order of battle of the Alliance military, as well as the forces controlled by Commander Maximus and those known to be under the control of the traitors.”

  Barron was truly surprised at the openness and trust Vennius was showing. That had to be difficult, especially for an Alliance officer. He could see that Corpus disagreed with his commander’s action, though he suspected the officer would refuse to admit it under any level of duress. Loyalty came first for Alliance warriors…Barron knew that much about the culture.

  He turned toward Travis, his eyes locking on hers. She was still for a moment, her face unreadable. Then she just nodded.

  B
arron looked down the table at the Alliance officer. “Commander Corpus…I am afraid our ability to effectively intervene at this time is severely limited.” He could see the officer shifting in his seat, ready to continue his argument. But Barron held up his hand. “However, I believe your words. I believe Commander Vennius.”

  He took a single deep breath, pushing back against the turmoil rising up inside him. He’d been horrified when Admiral Striker had sent him to Archellia and given him the tremendous power he had…but the reality was far worse than he’d imagined.

  “What help we can provide, we will, Commander. I will dispatch a request for more forces to be deployed to the Alliance frontier, and if it is acceptable to you, Dauntless will go back with you now.”

  “One battleship?” Barron could hear the disappointment in the man’s voice.

  “For now, I’m afraid one is all we have near the Alliance border, Commander. I hope there will be reinforcements available in the near future.” The words came out of his mouth, but Barron had no idea where such forces would be found. He knew he was putting his people into a nearly hopeless fight, but the alternative was to wait for the inevitable invasion that would follow Vennius’s defeat. Once again, there was no good choice.

  Corpus stood up and nodded. “I thank you, Commander Barron. Your aid is welcome…whatever it may be.” It was clear in his voice he viewed his mission as a failure, the aid of one ship woefully inadequate.

  “We face a difficult time, there is no doubt,” Barron said, a strange little smile slipping onto his lips. “We may only have one ship available now, Commander, but it is not just any ship. It is Dauntless…and this will not be our first hopeless battle. We have faced impossible situations before, and we are still here.”

  Barron’s eyes narrowed and bored into the Alliance officer’s. “And I do not intend for this to be the one we lose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fortress Sentinel-2

  Orbiting Planet Varena, Cilian System

  Year 61 (310 AC)

  “Six battleships, Commander-Maximus. Gravitas, Electi, and four identities still unconfirmed.” Cassius stood in front of the large display in Sentinel-2’s main control room. The screen was centered on an area around the transit point from which the invading fleet had just emerged. “Eight escorts, sir, two frigates and the rest lighter craft.”

  Vennius sat in the makeshift station Cassius had ordered built for him. It was adjacent to the base commander’s, about two meters away. “Very well, Commander.” Less than I’d feared. Calavius must be having more trouble than he’d expected consolidating control. Word must have spread that the Imperatrix is still alive.

  Vennius guarded against optimism. He and his small force had been left alone longer than he’d dared to hope, yet even that time had amounted to relatively little. He had no idea how many of the escorts he’d sent out had been destroyed—or defected to the other side—and how many were still seeking forces to try to rally to the cause, but none had sent back reinforcements. Not yet, at least.

  Still, he had four battleships plus the base, not a hopeless matchup by any means. He’d expected a more decisive assault once Calavius had located him, one overwhelming blow to end his resistance before it even began. The fact that his nemesis could not spare a larger force—and he had no doubt, if Calavius had been able to send more, he would have—was a good sign. Vennius was disciplined, and he took it as nothing more than a sign of a slower than expected consolidation. Still, anything that took time had to increase the strain between Calavius and his Union allies. His Union masters…

  Vennius stared at the four small circles that represented his battleships, drawn up exactly where he’d ordered. He’d positioned them carefully. When the enemy engaged his line, they would find themselves in range of the station’s heavier guns, but their own batteries would be too far out to strike at the fortress.

  His eyes caught the cluster of smaller icons, the eight enemy escorts. His forces would feel the loss of their own small craft he had detached. The enemy’s frigates and other craft would have none of their counterparts to face off against them, and they would be able to come around and attack the flanks of the battleships. It was a danger, especially if the fight went on for too long. The fortresses squadrons erased the enemy’s fighter superiority, but Vennius knew he’d have to send some of his wings after the frigates, which would give the enemy back its edge along the main line.

  “They’re coming straight on, sir. One large formation.”

  Unimaginative. Clumsy. “Let them come, Commander Cassius. Our forces are to remain in position.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All ships, and the base…scramble fighters.”

  “Yes, sir.” A second later: “Fleet order, all squadrons to the launch bays.”

  “Commander, when the enemy enters range, I want every heavy battery on this station to open up…and to maintain fire at the maximum rate. Every minute until we destroy the attackers, or compel them to retreat, is that much more damage to our own ships.” That was Vennius’s real concern. The battle would be a close match, but he’d never let that trouble him. However, Calavius would have more ships to send as he consolidated his control over the fleet, and Vennius knew he had very little capacity to repair his four battleships if they were too badly hit. An outright win would end the war for Calavius in a single stroke, but even if Vennius defeated the enemy it could be part of an attritional victory for the usurpers. Vennius hoped he had reinforcements coming, but he couldn’t count on it. Nor could he be at all sure the Confederation would heed his call for aid. Invictus had invaded their space, after all, and killed their people. He’d considered how he would react in their shoes, but he put it out of his mind. It was too demoralizing.

  “Commander-Maximus, Commander Egilius is on the comm.” The communications officer stared across the control room, clearly ill at ease with having such a high-ranking officer there.

  “On my comm, Optiomagis.” Vennius put his head to the headset. “Brutus?”

  “Yes, sir. The battle line is ready. What are your directives?”

  A hundred thoughts burst into Vennius’s head, but he held them back. He was an old enough warrior to know he had to pick his commanders and then let them do their jobs. Sitting on the fortress, micromanaging the battle would do more harm than good. And for all his decorations and his illustrious record of battle, he had spent the last two decades sitting in his chair, far back from the front.

  “Keep the force together, and watch the escorts trying to get around your flank…and other than that, fight your battle, Commander. You have my utmost faith and confidence.” He knew Egilius was good, very good. That was why he’d named his protégé tactical commander of the fleet. He’d been hesitant, afraid the other commanders might resent being placed under the new arrival, but he’d gotten a break there. Egilius was the most senior of the four, and that gave Vennius the cover he needed.

  “Yes, sir.” Egilius sounded pleased…and a bit edgy. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Victory ride with you, Commander.” Vennius cut the line. He’d given instructions and he’d wished Egilius the best. Droning on longer could only distract the officer from his task at hand.

  He glanced at the other circles, the ships flanking Bellator. All the battleship commanders had proven to be loyal, or at least that was the consensus opinion. If he and Cassius had made a mistake on that, they would soon know, with potentially devastating consequences. If one of the supposedly loyal battleships turned on them, it would be over.

  Vennius had relieved three of the escort commanders on suspicion of colluding with the traitors. One of those had already been released, with Vennius’s apologies and his sincere hopes he hadn’t created an enemy where there had not been one before. The other two were Calavius’s creatures, he was sure in one case and almost sure in the other. They would face firing squads as soon as the battle was over. Vennius didn’t know if he could win this struggle, but he was certai
n of one thing. It would be the most brutal fight he’d ever experienced. There was no room for mercy, for forgiveness.

  “Commander, all fighter squadrons report ready for launch.”

  Vennius nodded. He stared down at the floor and closed his eyes for a moment. This would not be the first Palatian blood drawn at his command, and unless his forces faced defeat and destruction here, it would not be the last. But it still tore at him. He had been through countless terrors in his long career, but he’d never faced a nightmare like this. How many of those warriors have I known? I’ve commanded them all, praised them, decorated them. Now I must kill them…and in their thousands if I am to save the Alliance.

  “Launch all fighters,” he said, his voice like iron.

  * * *

  Bellator shook hard, a shower of sparks raining down on her bridge. Egilius felt the sting on his neck, a tiny bit of still hot metal hitting him before falling to the deck. He didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the pain. His ship—no, his fleet, was fighting for its life. No pain could distract him now, no wound. If he lived, this was where he would stay, until the battle was won, or until it was lost. And it would only be lost when he and every warrior serving with him was dead.

  “More power to the forward guns,” he yelled, his eyes dropping to the monitors on his workstation. One of his ship’s reactors had been damaged. It was still functioning, barely, but there wasn’t just enough energy to charge all of Bellator’s systems.

  “Cut thrust to minimum necessary for evasive maneuvers. We have to maintain maximum fire.”

  “Yes, Commander.” Orin Metus was Egilius’s operations officer, and his second-in-command. The two had served together for several years, and their effectiveness as a team was one reason Bellator was one of the highest-rated ships in the fleet.

  Egilius looked at the main display, his eyes focusing on the swirling mass of tiny dots in between the two battle lines. The dogfight had pulled in one squadron after another until almost every fighter in the battle that survived was there, waging a desperate struggle for local superiority. He was sure his forces would have prevailed by now, save for the fact that he’d been compelled to send three of his squadrons to engage the escort ships, to keep them off his flank.