Righteous Reign The Series: E-version Boxed Set Edition

by Thomas J. MacDonald

  Our antagonists no longer use the small and medium size formations. They either leave a region uncovered or send in at least one hundred fifty units, forcing them to redeploy forces was one of our most important goals. Despite this fact, they still don't realize that a great deal of our success comes from their inability to think three-dimensionally. Their patrol of open space is spotty, at best. It means their defense is more like lace than iron, now. But, that only portends that, we cannot use the Theatre only tactic. We need to employ assaults on much larger forces at each encounter.

  It's time to make a much more dramatic statement. We will strike at three sites. Epsilon with the Polemista will hit the enemy forces at Mu² Boötis where there is a sizeable formation of Isesinis. It is a trinary system right on the Federation border. Its second and third components form the binary system occupied by our antagonists. Four hundred vessels surround the system. Gamma and the Spiel will conduct a raid against three hundred fifty Cruisers at 79 Ceti. Zeta will strike at HD 23079 which is the farthest target. It's situated at vector RA 45.661972º by Dec - 52.91583º at 113 Ly. It's quite a bit farther south of the ecliptic than we are now and forty-five degrees east. The jump from our current position will be just over one hundred four light-years. It's a nine-day six-hour jump at forty percent. So, our operations will leave here on June 20. Gamma will launch on June 24. And, Epsilon will depart on June 25. That will put us all at our targets on the same day. But, for us, it's worth it. There's a four-hundred-forty ship detachment where we're going. And despite the seriousness of the occasion, I always enjoy these spatial positions. At that distance from Sol and so far south of it, our perspective of our galaxy is quite different. Instead of looking into the next arm, we are just on the bottom edge of the galaxy's rim where we begin to get a peak at the Milky Way's actual shape. It's like looking along the surface of a disc from slightly below its edge.

  Except for a small reserve, we will use all Tier 3 operations including SOCC and the Polemista to attack on June 30. The departure time leaves us a day to stage and rest. Our tactical plan is for Zeta T1-1 and T1-2 to strike from above towards the East and center with a Theatre strength Polemista contingent handling West end of the line. From below Zeta T2 - 1 and T2-2 will attack with a similar allied flotilla assaulting the West end of the line. All Zeta Theatres will leave one Fleet as a reserve; giving us twenty-eight in total. SOCC will remain cloaked and creep to within a thousand kilometers of the formations front and rear - between the Polemista ships. They will open up with anti-matter weapons at point blank range a few minutes after everyone else is engaged. All forces have been furnished the SOCC transponder codes and frequencies so they can monitor to avoid accidental hits. This will be our biggest test, yet. It also has the greatest chance of high casualties and even failure. And we will be seven light-years inside enemy space.

  But SOCC has done a lot of preparatory surveillance for us. Savign believes the closest reinforcement for our opponent is thirty-five light-years away. And, she has left a squad of Subs to keep an eye on them. Even at the speed of their technology, it would take them slightly less than two days to reach us. A message from SOCC would arrive in just over a day. So, we'd have time to prepare or retreat. She also has two squads of five ringing the battle region at five light-years radius with cloaked long-range sensors tuned to anti-neutrino superluminal flight. We will get a short warning if someone is coming from another direction. The rest of her operation is involved in the assault.

  As far as the Examiner goes, we will sit a half light-year from the battle site with the Interrogator, Inquisitor and Investigator and all our security contingents. We have been fully upgraded, too. So, if we are attacked, we have a considerable force to defend with. We are seventeen warships and four supercarriers that can launch up to four hundred Raptors in each wave. We will have all levels of remote detectors deployed. And, we will tap into the SOCC feeds. So we will be able to monitor all space around the fracas to a distance of three light-years, with only a two and a half hour lag at our extreme limits. Though you are never one hundred percent convinced, I feel we are reasonably safe. No matter what happens, we cannot afford to lose our commands if we are to continue the fight.

  The three Tier 1 forces have agreed, we will initiate laser communications while staging and remain in constant contact.

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  My anxiety is apparent as I await the entry of our Fleets into my view screens. But it is a wave of projectiles I spot first. They are so dense they create an opaque field as they approach the enemy formation. It is like trying to see past an extending window blind. Over a period of about a minute, three hundred and thirty-six warships and eight hundred forty fighters of both types come into view in both the top and bottom right corners of my screens. They are all firing ceaselessly as they launch an additional two hundred twenty-four Raptors and one hundred twelve Machskaf-class fighters into their regions every seven seconds. I am observing the fight twenty-eight minutes and forty-eight seconds after it actually occurs.

  Though there are the constant flashes of enemy ships exploding in space, they do manage to return some weapons fire. But, the Isesinis are interrupted when more antimatter fire comes from unseen sources directly in front and behind the large body of ships. Yet, realization does seem to dawn on one of their captains. Salvos are launched from the single vessel destroying two of our subs, instantly. It appears as if space itself exploded until the failed cloaks no longer hide the spreading field of shrapnel. He tries again and misses. But missiles keep coming from somewhere unseen.

  The enemy reorganizes; stacking itself so outer ships can protect the inward ones while they answer the attack. Several Federation ships are hit. But, it's not enough; as one after the other, the antagonists' warships are destroyed. The battle stretches into five hours. The field resembles the demolition derbies of a couple of centuries ago - but, much more expansive. By that time, only a dozen intruders remain. They fight on relentlessly. Missiles are launched, cannons fire, and torpedos skim towards their targets. Fighters criss-cross the battle zone firing short bursts at each other - zig-zagging in and out of formations to gain a little advantage. But, as usual, resupply wins the day. We keep restocking while the Isesinis are so occupied, they can't. Slowly but surely, they reduce their response in an attempt to meter their supplies. At the same time, we redouble our efforts. By the six hour mark, they are gone. There is nothing left but a kaleidoscope of dust, flotsam, partial hulls, and panels of all sorts spiraling through space on undefined trajectories on their way to nowhere in particular. Our forces begin to back out, just as Savign sends a warning. Enemy reinforcement is on the way.

  Though we won the day, we have been battered. Two subs were destroyed. A dozen ships have fairly significant damage, though they can make it home. Numbers are still firming up, but we have two hundred twenty-seven dead and nearly a thousand injured. I don't believe we should face the incoming reserve forces. I order us to regroup three parsecs away. We all jump out.

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  Secure memos from the other two brawls tell me events followed a similar track. They have relatively light losses and casualties, but they are battered. And they annihilated all enemy forces at their locations. Today, we made a statement to our rivals and our people. We took out around a thousand without losing many of our own ships. And, both the Spiel and the Polemista fought valiantly beside us. This all bodes very well for the future.

  We agreed to meet at Zeta's home base.

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  Today is July 1, 2268, and we are doing a huge Founding Day celebration. We acknowledge the day every year, and it's considered a legal holiday. But, we don't usually get the opportunity
to conduct large scale celebrations. This year, the consensus is that we need to do something, even if only for the distraction. We have all been under enormous pressure for a considerable length of time.

  King David and most of the C&C have certain responsibilities in the matter. A large gathering on the Asgard will be beamed to all ships for viewing and remote participation. David will be doing a speech remembering past Kings and Emperors. Grace will be accompanied by Bill Stephenson as she does a piece on the current state of affairs. I am tasked with presenting something historical related to the founding of our Federation. There'll be fireworks in the form of low-yield particle cannon fire and very lightly charged chemical and antimatter torpedoes. There is scheduled to be nearly ten thousand detonations in the space around us. This might be a flare giving away our location if we weren't so far from the Isesinis. It will take five years for the fireworks to show up at their position - four if they have long-range sensor systems deployed in our direction. Hopefully, the war will be over by then.

  At thirteen hundred hours fifteen minutes, I step to the podium.

  "All OFSA personnel, members of the Orion Assembly, fellow C&C Committee Members and of course King David, I too bid you welcome to the celebration of our Realm's birthday.

  It kind of hurt my feelings when I was instructed to introduce myself. It was a blow to my ego that some may not know who I am.' I paused for the laughter and applause to die off in the confines of the Hangar. Then I continued. 'I am Fleet Admiral Kurt Brubacher. I am a member of the C&C Commission, and I am responsible for Zeta HQ, otherwise known as IGB. We're the people who come for you if you've been a bad boy or girl.' Again I had to pause. 'But, IGB is also the chief investigative, intelligence, security, and enforcement authority for the Federation. So, in those capacities, I have access to a lot of documentation. The entire history of the Federation is at my fingertips from its birth to today.

  One of my responsibilities has always been to teach at our extension schools. And, my area of education is the history of the Federation as it relates to our legal system. So, I have been asked to describe some event from our founding history you may not be aware of.

  "Everyone is familiar with old Tom McCracken. He was a man who was at the right hand of the first Emperor during the founding of the Empire that led to our Federation. He traveled all the way from what used to be Canada to northern Florida and made contact with Edward at Wildwood. At that time, our world was a disjointed mess of warlords; each trying to grab onto power. But, it was Old Tom who showed Edward how he could take control and unify our world. And, he did that because he trusted the future Emperor to be a benevolent leader.

  There are many stories you've heard about this endearing old man. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with. You've probably all heard of his encounter with the black bear in the middle of the night, for example. But, I have a couple of short stories you may find a little humorous.

  Old Tom comes by his moniker honestly. He was not a big man; standing just one hundred seventy-one centimeters by the time he left Canada. He was nearly sixty-six that year and shrinkage had set in a few years earlier. Though not frail he was a small-framed soul with eye implants and an artificial hip. Yet, he was one of the most rugged individuals of the times.

  The first incident occurred just before he left to come south. You have to picture the conditions. The world was devastated. Droves attempted the trip south. Many died. But, Tom stayed behind to look after his dying wife. And, to keep them alive he would scavenge for things that would keep them warm, safe, and fed. For example, he found, moved, raised and installed a wind generator system so the house could be powered for heating and cooking. Remember, people had left, and much was abandoned.

  And, the environment of the times was not pleasant. It was perpetually cold with a continuous distant screeching howl emanating from the bow of the encroaching glacier. He visited that front many times. The numbers of carnivorous animals and birds accompanying that leading edge never ceased to amaze him. Within a couple of kilometers of the creeping monster, their screams and cries overpowered its din.

  And, then there were the lakes. He monitored them regularly because he would have to cross one to go south, sooner or later. Ontario was his best bet; so he watched it the closest. He could cut holes and measure. It was frozen as deep as he could auger.

  But, he would need dependable transportation to make the journey. Something that could handle the rugged terrain, ice, and snow. He traveled through the city each day, searching for necessities; but, always with an eye for an abandoned vehicle.

  The first he encountered was an older four-wheel-drive he thought might serve the purpose. So, he attempted to break in without doing a lot of damage. Being a novice at break-and-enter, it took nearly three hours to gain access. And, after two hours of trying everything he could think of, it would not start. He sat behind the driver's wheel contemplating the dilemma and searching for something he might have overlooked that would magically cause the vehicle to spring to power. He finally opened the door, stepped out, closed it, and was promptly attacked by a scavenging dog. The animal eventually retreated after being punched, kicked, scratched and bitten. But Old Tom had been chomped, too. At the top of his thigh, just below the left cheek of his butt, he was bleeding profusely from a deep wound.

  After applying pressure and cold snow, the flow ebbed, and he made his way home. One tear required him to find a way to stitch three sutures onto an almost unreachable area of his own body.

  Limping along the next day, he found the Toyota he is famous for, just a driveway over from the one that had nearly been his demise. As he tried to gain entry, he heard a growl behind him, again. He turned slowly to see the same Shepard from the day before. The dog tensed and crouched to pounce.

  'Wait!' he yelled with palms up in the air. The dog seemed to understand. It relaxed for a moment. He reached into his packsack, pulling out two thick slices of somewhat frozen corned beef. He tossed it to the dog who ate with great gusto; then, approached him slowly. After a pat on the head, it seemed to become his friend.

  He entered the car. Keys were actually in the sunscreen. Inserting the one for the ignition, he turned, and it fired up, immediately. He got out to clean the windows; so, he could see to drive and went to jump back in. But, the mangy pooch had occupied the seat on the passenger side. Pulling another piece of meat from the bag, he offered it. The dog licked his hand; then took the gift. Old Tom got in the truck and drove it home. That dog was with him for nearly a year, until he left to come south.

  The second incident involves animals, too. It happened on what used to be the I-95 highway near Glen Arden, Maryland. He had prepared for his journey by carefully packing everything he might need over a three-month excursion. But, it had taken a lot longer to reach the Beltway section of the route than originally envisioned, and he was beginning to worry about running out of supplies before reaching his destination. Low and behold, he saw a flash of movement in the trees on the forested side of the road. Creeping forward quietly, he spied two wild turkeys strutting their stuff in a small clearing. Quietly backing away he returned to his camp and retrieved his weapons, after loading both. The rifle was loaded for protection; but, the shotgun held bird shot.

  Checking the breeze he worked his way downwind and around back of the clearing. As he approached, he eyed four birds in the small space. Though familiar with guns, he had never before fired a shotgun. He squatted; hunching down to gain a bead on the target. Taking aim, the old man pulled the trigger. The recoil threw him flat onto his back. Cursing loudly, he was sure he had missed everything, and the fowl would be gone. He didn't even notice the blood seeping from a gash in the back of his head where it had encountered a tree stump. But to his dismay, two birds were laying dead on the ground, both with a pellet in the head and several little blood stains over their carcasses. Later, he was glad he killed two, even if by accident. He had never before cleaned eating fowl and utterly destroyed the first deciding
to leave it some distance from his camp for the local wildlife to find. But, by the time he turned to the next, he recalled an article he had read on the subject. He eviscerated the bird, carefully; then headed back to camp heating a large soup kettle of boiling water. After plunging the bird twice, he found the feathers pulled easily without doing any damage. He ate turkey with dressing, gravy, and mashed potatoes and made a big pot of soup from the remaining stock and meat. Of course, everything freezes aboard an open sleigh in winter weather. So, even after landing in Florida, he enjoyed portions of the turkey on several occasions.

  It is stories of his ingenuity, resilience, determination, and loyalty that have kept his image in our thoughts through two centuries. Take a moment and think of him once in a while. You never know which of today's enemies will be tomorrow's friends. And you never know when fortune may smile on you. So take the time to remember Old Tom and others who worked to build our Federation. Especially on Founders' Day." I finished.

  George did his oration. Then, we went on to the spectacular fireworks display. After it was over, everyone was asked to enjoy the parties in the Hangars of all the Headquarters' Ships.

  The next day, Fred covered the entire event in her daily broadcast that was disseminated throughout the Federation. But, she concentrated on my speech. She had never heard the two Old Tom tales recounted before and figured not many people had.

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  By eleven hundred on Saturday, August 8, 2268, we are all seated in the Examiner's small amphitheater. The meeting is too big for my office. King David, Bill, Grace, Steven, and I have been joined by Tier 2 and 3 Commanders from all HQ Commands and their Theatres involved, including the Spiel and Polenista. There is a bit of backslapping and handshaking; but we are solemn, for the most part. We have lost nearly eleven thousand people, ten ships, a couple dozen fighters and we have suffered an additional ten thousand injuries over all our operations. So, though we won, there is nothing to laugh about.