“Alexis?”
She looked back at her mother, an eyebrow raised in question.
“I am glad you made it back safe.”
You have no idea. She left without responding and waited for Richard on the other side of the door.
He was grimacing as the door closed behind him. “Alex, I’m sor—”
“Let’s wait until we get outside.” He frowned but complied. He probably hadn’t been intending on joining her the entire way to her vehicle, but she indicated for him to enter the lift ahead of her. Once it was underway she stepped closer to him, her voice low.
“You’re an intelligent, rational, reasonable man. I need you to hear me out with an open mind, okay?” He didn’t protest, so she continued. “You know I feel no particular love for Seneca, and why. But we—I—believe they did not intend to assassinate the Trade Minister, and they absolutely did not intend to start a war. Now—” she motioned his interruption silent as the lift came to a stop at the parking lot “—we didn’t order the attack on Palluda, did we?”
The flicker in his eyes was all the answer she required. “I didn’t think so. Richard, this war is a setup. Now maybe it’s because someone wants to finish what was started over two decades ago, or maybe it’s…maybe it’s something worse. Regardless of the reason for it, the result will be to divide and weaken all our forces, leaving us exposed and vulnerable when these aliens attack. We need to see past the trickery and work together.”
They reached her skycar and he turned to her. He wore a troubled expression, one she had rarely seen from him. “Do you realize what you’re asking? This isn’t some little side conflict. This is the real thing. We can’t simply hold hands and kiss and make up. And how would we even begin to prove any sort of trickery or deception?”
“That’s what we were going to tell you. Caleb’s superiors think if they could examine the details of the Trade Minister’s assassination they may be able to prove it wasn’t committed by the man who’s been accused.”
“Senecan Intelligence knows as much about the assassination as we do. If they haven’t found a way to prove it by now….”
“They don’t have his body. They don’t have the medical details on how he died.”
He rolled his eyes at the heavens and paced in a tight circle. “Alex, you can’t expect us to give the Senecans Santiagar’s corpse.”
“And I don’t. But your medical people performed an autopsy and analyzed the cybernetics dump, didn’t they? It’s possible there’s information in those findings you wouldn’t recognize as important but which might be a clue for them, right?”
He dragged a hand down his face. A heavy sigh escaped beneath it…then he gazed back at her, and she knew she had lost. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I may possess a moderate amount of power, but nothing near the power necessary to do what you’re suggesting.”
Dammit. “Well, can you at least release Caleb? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He gained admittance to Strategic Command Headquarters using a false name and false pretenses. He’s an enemy combatant under any definition.”
“He did so only at my request—my insistence.”
“Which doesn’t help him and hurts you. I try to assert that argument and you get arrested, no matter who your mother is.”
Dammit. She quickly schooled her expression. If he wasn’t going to help, she shouldn’t reveal anything further to him. She smiled with as much warmth as she could muster and clasped his hands in hers. “Okay. Thank you for listening. What will they do with him?”
“He’s in a holding cell over in the security building for now. A judge will determine his status in a few days, but I imagine he’ll be deemed a prisoner of war and transferred to the military prison down in San Francisco.”
“I understand. Now I’m afraid I must go home and prepare for this presentation tomorrow. Take care of yourself, will you?”
“Look, I’m not unsympathetic to your position. I wish I could help.”
“I know. Just…well, it doesn’t matter.” She climbed in the car before she gave any more away.
She felt his gaze following her as the car rose and banked away from the lot, but her focus had already shifted inward.
She had a lot of work to do.
42
EARTH
Seattle
* * *
“It’s a good thing you let me know you were on Earth when you did. I was half an hour from catching the transport back to Erisen.”
Alex embraced Kennedy warmly then slid into the chair opposite her. The table by the window, high above downtown Seattle, revealed a sea of glittering lights against the night sky, but for once she was almost too distracted to notice. “You didn’t have to come all the way up here just for a quick dinner. I wish I had more time.”
Kennedy scoffed and poured a glass from the already-opened bottle of wine. “Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly ever get to see you as it is.” She peered at Alex and frowned. “And you look stressed, so get to drinking.”
Alex took a long sip of the wine. “I’ve had one hell of a week.”
“Do tell.”
She sighed and relaxed a bit in the chair. “Let’s see. I got into a space firefight, blew up the other ship, semi-crashed onto an uninhabitable planet in the middle of nowhere, rescued the pilot, held him prisoner—”
“Ooh, him? This sounds exciting.”
“Yeah, well. So we repaired my ship and—”
“Wait, ‘we’? I thought he was your prisoner?”
“He was. Then he wasn’t. Then he sort of….”
Her eyes brightened in delight. “How was he?”
“Ken, I haven’t slept with him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t sleep with every handsome stranger who crosses my path.”
“So he’s handsome?”
She bit her lower lip and took another sip to hide the extent of her grin. “Oh yes. Now would you let me finish my story? It’s important.”
Kennedy waved a hand in her direction and leaned back as the waiter brought their appetizer.
She waited until the waiter departed before continuing. “So we repaired my ship and went to investigate some strange readings coming from the center of the Metis Nebula—and found an alien army amassing for an invasion.”
Her best friend stared at her, flat-faced. “That’s not funny. You were never any good at telling jokes, you know this.”
“It’s not a joke.”
Perhaps recognizing the deadly serious expression on Alex’s face, a frown grew on her lips. “Aliens? Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Well, are you sure they’re invading? I mean, maybe they’re simply dropping by to say ‘hi’?”
She couldn’t risk displaying an aural where others might see; she sent one of the visuals instead. “What do you think?”
Across the table, Kennedy’s eyes widened precipitously in growing horror. The blood drained from her face, blanching her tanned skin pale. “My god…Alex, this….” She swallowed hard. “What are we doing about it?”
“That remains to be seen. The Prime Minister’s Science Advisor is ‘reviewing’ the material. The EASC Board is ‘reviewing’ the material. I’m shouting at them tomorrow.”
“Shit, if they don’t take action you should leak this to the media.”
“And cause a galactic panic? I’m not sure it’s a great idea. The average person can’t do anything against this kind of threat. The military is the only one who can act.”
She frowned again, more deeply than before. “You said they’re in the Metis Nebula? The Senecans are much closer than we are. Shouldn’t they maybe be warned? I realize apparently we’re at war with them again for some reason, but….”
“It’s okay. They already know.”
“You managed to get this information to the Senecan government? Impressive, even for you.”
“Not exactly. My, um…the guy…is Senecan…” her voice trailed o
ff “…Intelligence.”
Kennedy’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god this is better than one of those intrigue romance novels.”
“Ken, it’s not a romance novel.”
“Mmhmm. So where is he now? Is he here? Can I meet him?”
She cringed and stuffed a bite of escargot in her mouth. “He’s in lockup over at EASC Security Detention….”
“You turned him in?”
“No, I didn’t turn him in. His cover got blown.”
“Damn. What are you going to do? Are you going to leave him there?”
“No—well for the moment, yes, because making sure the military gets off their asses and gets ready for these aliens is more important. But that brings me to the actual point of the story. I mean other than warning you there was an impending alien invasion no one knows about.”
“Which would be?”
“Is Claire still in San Francisco?”
Kennedy sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I know where she is?”
Alex rolled her eyes and leveled a look across the table. “Is Claire still in San Francisco?”
She blew out a breath through tight lips. “She is.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with her?”
“I…do. But not to use her or procure…whatever she might offer. I only, well, it never hurts to keep in touch with former acquaintances and potential future resources. Can I ask why you need to contact her?”
“Because I need a damn good spoofing routine and I don’t have time to write one myself.”
Kennedy’s brow furrowed a moment—then realization dawned. “Oh…I see. He must really be something.”
“It’s not that. It’s my fault he was arrested. I’m the one who asked him to come with me here, and I dragged him right into EASC Headquarters. He may work for whatever they are—it sounds absurd to call the Senecans the ‘enemy’ when there’s a real enemy looming in the wings—but he didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t leave him in a prison cell to rot.”
“Because you’re a decent person, even if you don’t like to admit it. Still…he must really be something.”
Alex merely smiled.
43
SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT
Border of Senecan Federation Space
* * *
The first true battle of the Second Crux War was fought, perhaps not surprisingly, in the space above Desna.
A small Alliance colony in shouting distance of Senecan Federation territory, it had no real economy beyond that necessary to sustain its population in daily life. Founded twenty-seven years earlier, it continued to exist primarily as a silent line in the sand blocking future expansion of the Federation in the direction of Earth and the First Wave worlds.
The 2nd Brigade of the Earth Alliance NE Regional Command intercepted the 3rd Wing of the Senecan Federation Southern Fleet as it traversed the officially designated buffer zone on the edge of Federation Space. Alliance NE Regional Commander Admiral Christopher Rychen deemed their position too close to Desna’s system—but it was without a doubt an orchestrated encounter.
Commander Morgan Lekkas’ squadron of ten Senecan fighters was the first to depart the 3rd Wing’s carrier SFS Catania upon being alerted of the approaching force. Their initial directives were to engage and/or deflect any and all attackers, drones and missiles while the frigates moved into combat formation and the other two fighter squadrons took up positions.
The coordinates, speed, bearing, weapons status and physical condition of each of the nine fighters under Morgan’s command displayed and updated every eighty milliseconds on one of four whispers projected in her vision. Her team was down two ships lost in the Arcadia offensive. They wouldn’t be replaced for another week…but the battle was now.
“Swarm on my mark. Two…one…mark.”
To the untrained eye, a swarm maneuver might resemble chaos far more than any organized strategy. In actuality it represented a highly precise and efficient pattern over any grid of space. Each individual ship’s movements appeared random and nearly impossible to predict; together they provided total coverage of the designated area.
The second of her whispers showed all enemy vessels within five hundred megameters. Lacking the deep integration she enjoyed with her squadron, this display only updated every 0.8 seconds.
Three tiny dots flash to life. “Drone launch, N 38.04°z-10.15 E. Flight 3 engage.”
Engaged.
Four seconds later—Down. Down. A pause. Down.
She could see the small explosions on the whisper of course, but it built pride and confidence for pilots to announce their successes, and she encouraged it.
Two larger dots appeared. Alliance frigates; they would represent the forward flank.
A sea of red pinpoints fanned out from the frigates. “Sixteen missiles away. Engage.”
Faster than she was capable of speaking, she assigned every fighter a missile based on proximity and trajectory. That left six free missiles—but first things first.
The swarm dissolved into precise, directed movements. Her primary attention diverted to her own missile tracking across the translucent screen overlaying her viewport. She banked in a controlled slide to its right until its entire length was centered in the reticle.
Lock. Fire.
“Down.”
Five missiles had now been destroyed. She moved to the closest free one.
Track. Drop. Invert. Lock. Fire.
“Down.”
Epsilon took out a second missile. Twelve down—and four were through their net.
“Command, four missiles free.”
Acknowledged.
The third whisper displayed strategically relevant information from the other two squadron leaders, the captains of the ten frigates (also down two after Arcadia) and the commander of the Catania, Commodore Pachis.
2nd squadron (defense) engaging.
Seven seconds later—All missiles destroyed.
The attackers likely didn’t expect any of the missiles to survive to impact. It was merely an opening volley, designed to occupy and distract. And to some extent, it worked. Three stealth electronic jammer craft had snuck through the outer defensive line and set about scrambling several of the Senecan vessels’ targeting ware.
Combat formation active. Begin primary engagement.
“Harass on my mark. Two…one…mark.”
It was the job of the 1st squadron to engage the frontal force of Alliance fighters and of the 2nd squadron to fly defensive patrol around the carrier and rear frigates. It was the job of Lekkas’ squadron to create chaos behind the lines and on the edges, to chase outliers and take advantage of opportunities as the battle spread out across megameters of space.
Though she continued to monitor the status of each of the ships under her command, to a large extent the individual pilots now gained freedom of movement and decision, subject to guidance from the Flight primaries.
She also served as Primary of Flight 1. “Our target is Alliance frigate bearing N 24.51°z18.06 E. Weapons and engines.”
Slipping behind enemy lines was not an easy matter. They possessed robust dampener fields, but the fields interfered with targeting and constituted a hindrance while firing. Therefore, her preferred tactic was to activate the field and swing wide out and low in order to pass through the outer Alliance defenses, deactivate the field and use her ship’s agility to avoid destruction while making several quick hits, then vanish again.
Her speed, trajectory and ship vitals shone brightly in the fourth whisper. For a moment, beyond it there existed only the blackness of space, lit by the stars outside her cockpit and the faint glow of a sun behind her, as she dropped in near free-fall.
The agility and maneuverability Commander Lekkas’ squadron would use to their benefit amidst the Alliance fleet was far less of an advantage in head-to-head space combat. With no obstacles to avoid or atmosphere to fight against, the lightweight construction of Senec
an fighters was of marginal value against the tougher, hardier Alliance fighters. Even rapid maneuverability couldn’t escape plasma weapons which once locked were able to track movement up to 0.6 light speed. The 1st squadron fought hard but quickly suffered heavy losses on the front lines.
The fire of massive plasma cannons on both sides lit the field of battle, at times meeting each other mid-arc in tremendous explosions of light. Though better protected than the fighters, Senecan frigates were still more lightweight and maneuverable than their Alliance counterparts. But the Alliance ships were workhorses and exceedingly difficult to destroy.
Worse, the Alliance had come prepared. Having taken due note of the size of the detachment sent to Arcadia, Admiral Rychen’s forces had arrived in strength. In the time it took Senecan vessels to destroy one Alliance frigate, two Senecan ones were disabled or destroyed—and the Alliance enjoyed more to begin with.
For this battle, in this space and under these circumstances, the outcome was inevitable almost before it had begun.
Lekkas did more than most to try to even the odds. Skimming so close beneath the hull of a frigate she was able to clearly see the shimmer of its plasma shield, she accelerated past the stern weapons assembly and pivoted 180°.
Target. Lock. Fire.
The assembly splintered apart in a burst of flame and free plasma. She was already gone, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. The impulse engine was her next target.
A frigate’s impulse engine was too sturdily built to be easily destroyed by small pulse laser weapons—but with concentrated fire it could be disabled. She met her flight members beneath the rear of the ship for a brief, directed, coordinated assault. They had 3.4 seconds before Alliance reserve fighters arrived to annihilate them. In 3.3 seconds the glow of the impulse engine shifted from pale blue to fiery orange in an unstoppable chain reaction which would soon result in a critical overload—and they vanished.
Lekkas and her team disabled the weapons and partially or wholly disabled the engines of an additional three frigates as well as four electronic warfare vessels before Commodore Pachis signaled the retreat. While they likely saved a number of soldiers’ lives through their actions, they ultimately didn’t change the outcome of the battle.
Starshine by G. S. Jennsen Page 31