Nova Romae (The Adventures of Christopher Slone Book 2)

by Donald Nicklas

  "Acknowledge receipt and tell them to report to my conference room when they arrive."

  "Yes, Consul." And the link to the ship closed.

  Lorenzo then turned to those at the table. "Victoria, after dinner, recall the legion."

  The Legatus nodded and then said, "What about the camp?"

  "Leave it for later. If we win, we will need it and if we lose, what does it matter. For now, let's enjoy the rest of our meal together. Fate will determine if we meet again another time."

  The dinner was now more subdued and all were anxious to get back to their commands. Ian and the resistance would be tasked to watch over the Petrovian prisoners, along with a contingent of wounded, but still healing legionaries. After the meal was over, the Legatus went to see to recalling the legion and deciding who among the wounded would better serve as guards. They would not be happy about missing the action, but shipboard fighting required everyone to be at the peak of their form, and they would understand the necessity of staying behind. Anyway, if for some reason the Petrovian prisoners should decide to help their fleet by staging a riot to keep our forces tied up, they may have more action than they bargained for. They all said their goodbyes to Ian MacDougal. The elder MacDougal was concerned about his niece and asked Tavia to stay while the fleets fought, but she would have none of it. She also informed him that it was her intention to remain with the Romani and build a life on Nova Romae, now that she had a house there. He knew he could not talk her out of it and simply prayed she would survive the coming battle. He was proud of his niece and saw her courage fighting on the barricades with the resistance and the marines. She would do him and her family proud. They embraced and she joined the others leaving for the fleet.

  Before leaving the planet, Consul Lorenzo ordered the fleet into preparation. As soon as he stepped onto the deck, he became both captain and fleet admiral. Everyone was scurrying around preparing to receive the returning cohort. The same activity was being repeated on all of the dreadnoughts. The cruisers were awaiting their marine contingents, which had been fighting on the planet and helping in the normalization efforts. No battle ready conditions were set yet, that would wait until the enemy was actually in system and 14 hours from contact.

  The Slones returned to their quarters and changed from their casual dinner apparel to uniforms. They then waited to be summoned for the conference. In the meantime, they took care of some correspondence that came in on the last message pod from Nova Romae. The Consul Strabo expressed his pride at how his daughter handled herself helping to organize the resistance and defending the barricades. As a reward, he deeded the lake house over to them as a wedding gift. The Slones were ecstatic, they had fallen in love with the place and there was plenty of room for the rest of her crew, until they found their own places. Alaya’s father also let them know that the Senate was pleased with progress thus far and was ready to commit fully to the conquest of the corporations. The revenge each family had ingrained in them from the first exiles of the corporations was a mantra of Romani existence. No one among them would ever pass up the chance to have their revenge. It is not that their life was bad; on the contrary, they were living better than most in corporate space. The problem ran deeper than that. The Romani lifestyle was a creation of their hard work. When the corporation exiled their ancestors for wanting to improve their lot and the lot of corporate residents, they sent them into space on decommissioned wrecks that should not have been in service and many died as their ships fell out of slipstreams due to failures. Most were lost if they could not repair themselves. Those who survived passed the memory of this outrage down to their children who passed it on for five hundred years of generations. Those alive now were honored to be in the generation that would finally avenge the founders. War was inevitable and sought after. Once they crossed into corporate space, it became a war to free the masses under corporate oppression. It would only end with the destruction of one side or the other. It didn’t matter to the Romani if the corporate citizens thought of themselves as oppressed or not, their ancestors taught them that this was the case, and the founders never lied.

  By the time, the Draco entered the hangar deck of the Longinus; all the ships in the fleet were battle ready. The Romani presence on New Wales was reduced to a minimum and all cohorts were back on their dreadnoughts. None of the cohorts was down below acceptable strength, even with their casualties. Any gaps could be filled with the hundred marines each dreadnought carried for boarding protection. The captain of each fleet vessel was summoned to the Longinus before the Draco arrived. When Allan Farnsworth arrived in the conference room, there was only one seat left at the table and he was motioned to it.

  “Welcome back, Commander Farnsworth. We are all anxious to hear your report,” Captain Lorenzo stated. He was back to wearing his captain’s uniform and insignia. This meant he was no longer to be addressed as Consul.

  Farnsworth felt compelled to stand up for his report. After getting to his feet, he began his debriefing. “As you are all aware, the Draco left to shadow the retreating Petrov fleet, which we did all the way back to their home world. That took about 10 days. We stayed well clear of the planet and monitored from as close as necessary to get good readings. It took them some time to assemble and then they left, gathering some more ships along the route. Admiral Perminov’s was added to the fleet upon its arrival, but I have no idea if he is still aboard. Two systems back, they spent some time just drifting, and we assumed they were discussing tactics. We took that opportunity to get ahead of them and make a run for the slipstream. We calculate we have a 20-hour head start; therefore, they should be in system within five to six hours. With the addition of the Perminov dreadnought, their ship count is 13 dreadnoughts, 11 cruisers and 24 destroyers.” After this, the commander sat down.

  “Thank you, commander, you have done well. Does anyone have any questions?”

  The captain of the Inceptum carrying the fifth cohort raised a question, “Can we be sure they were not just waiting for more ships when you left them in that system?”

  Allen would have been disappointed if no one had the sense to ask this question. “After we moved to the outgoing slipstream, we stayed on station until the fleet reassembled and began its move to the slipstream. That is when we took the stream ourselves and is also how we know they are 20 hours behind us. Anyway, would we do anything different if they pick up another ship or two? I doubt it since we only have the ships we have.”

  Allen’s certainty and concise answer to the question brought him the admiration of the captains. There were no other questions. They now got down to making battle plans. They learned from Farnsworth that none of the ships was different from the typical corporate types. It was so typical of the corporations to place cost over innovation. The Romani may not have changed the basic design, but they did improve on weapon accuracy and fire rates, as well as the number of cannons carried by their dreadnoughts. The changes may not be much, but coupled with the gift of invisibility from the serpents, it is more than anything the corporations have. The meeting broke up and the captains returned to their vessels. As soon as all of the captains were back aboard their ships, the destroyers vanished as their serpents made them invisible. This was part of the battle plan and intended to give the enemy a nasty surprise. As if on cue, just shy of the expected time, the sensor tech on the bridge of the Longinus notified the officer of the deck that sensors indicated ship sized anomalies coming through the inbound slipstream from the direction of Petrov space. The enemy had arrived. The officer of the deck notified Captain Lorenzo, who immediately came to the bridge. The Slones had entered the bridge a little before the expected fleet arrival.

  When Captain Lorenzo entered, he asked the officer of the deck for a report.

  “All enemy ships are now in system. Mass determination indicates 13 dreadnoughts, 11 cruisers and 24 destroyers.”

  “Captain Slone, I congratulate your crew on their excellent information. The enemy fleet is just as advertised.”r />
  Christopher and Alaya both thanked Captain Lorenzo to which he said, “I was complimenting the better looking Captain Slone.”

  This evoked a chuckle from Alaya.

  Lorenzo directed his next question to the sensor tech, “Do we know what battle formation they’re using?”

  “No Captain, they are still forming up.”

  “Very well, let me know as soon as you have it. Order all ships to rest mode for the next 10 hours and call up the night crews. I want everyone well rested.” The order was passed throughout the fleet and things wound down. It would be 14 hours before the fleets were close enough to engage. Lorenzo and the Slones stayed on the bridge until they had a better read on the enemy. A half hour later, the sensor tech had the information they wanted.

  “Captain,” he said, “the enemy is now in formation. They are in an elongated box formation with the dreadnoughts forming the inner box and the cruisers forming a ring round the center of the box. Their destroyers appear to be 12 in front and 13 behind.”

  Lorenzo looked at the projection of this formation on the threat board. It was designed to make it difficult to smash the center. They were learning. Good, that meant there would be a good fight. “It looks like they learned from Admiral Perminov’s experience. I liked him. I certainly hope they didn’t kill him.” With that, Captain Lorenzo left the bridge to get some rest. The Slones soon followed to their quarters.

  Alaya slept but Christopher was restless. He was at heart a cruiser commander and knew the odds. The Romani were good at what they did, but going to a battle outnumbered by capital ships, was fraught with danger. Even with a higher cannon count than the Petrovians, there was no cushion or margin for error. Before the next 24 hours were over, Slone would find out if they were on the side of power or if they will fall with their new friends. After running each of the possible scenarios through his head, he finally drifted off to sleep. At the end of the 10 hours, a fleet wide alarm was sounded to bring everyone back from the rest cycle. The Slones got ready quickly and went to their assigned stations, which, by invitation, was the bridge. Captain Lorenzo was already in his captain’s chair issuing orders. The fleet was breaking orbit and moving towards the enemy and away from the planet’s gravity well. In the coming battle, maneuvering room will be critical.

  “Ah, Christopher and Alaya, we are moving out to meet the enemy. This will be the largest fleet battle in which the Romani have ever been engaged, and that makes it a complete unknown. This is not only a battle for New Wales; it is also a test for us. If the Romani are to take on the corporations, it must start here with a victory. I tell you this, because all of the Romani in the fleet know this. Our ancestral hatred for the corporations has reached the point where we want our revenge. Our ancestors are watching us.” Lorenzo paused a moment. “I want you to realize what’s at stake. We will fight this battle to the death. There will be no surrender.”

  This was a bit of a shock to Slone, but not unexpected, knowing their code of honor. Still, it was not the corporate way and sometimes he forgets he is not part of a corporation. If there is one thing he learned from the ground combat, not even wounded Romani give up the fight. “I understand and I view myself as Romani now since I am dead to Sinclair Corp. But I can’t speak for Alaya.”

  Slone looked over to his wife and she took the hint. “I and my crew are fully committed. There is nothing for us back in our old life. We will live or die with the Romani.”

  Lorenzo broke out into his usual big smile and said, “I knew you would be aboard, just had to ask, since, if this is a suicide mission, then we should all be aware of our feelings.”

  Slone looked at Lorenzo in all seriousness, “Believe me we are well aware of suicide missions. At least we have a choice in this one.”

  No more was said; since the sensor tech reported the destroyer group was now sitting behind the enemy formation and awaiting orders. They were invisible. All the pieces were now on the board, as the fleets moved towards the inevitable. Lorenzo ordered the fleet to attack formation IOTA. This required the dreadnoughts and the cruisers to form a single file with the ten dreadnoughts in the center and five cruisers ahead and five to the rear. This resulted in a single line of twenty capital ships. If all was going as planned, the 19 destroyers were also forming a line to pass on the opposite side of the enemy fleet. The idea of this double line was to limit the firepower of the enemy by staying on the fringes of their formation. The destroyers would be a surprise, and those only work once.

  Grand Admiral Konstantin Dubov stood on the bridge of his flagship, the PC Kirov, and contemplated the mission ahead. He was in command of the Petrov Corp home fleet. Many things were going through his mind as he waited for them to come out of the slipstream that would deposit them in the New Wales system. His was a formidable force, much larger than the one that Idiot Perminov had. How that man ever became an admiral, was beyond him. Perminov actually stood in front of the admiralty board, had the audacity to admit he was beaten by a fleet of destroyers, and lost two of his dreadnoughts and his cruisers. He is now on his old ship as a civilian and, when the fleet returns, he will be court marshaled and probably executed. Dubov insisted on bringing him along to show him how it is done. The navigator notified him that the slipstream was at an end and the fleet dropped into system space.

  “Admiral,” his sensor tech reported, “we are picking up telemetry from the enemy fleet.”

  “Let me know as soon as you get mass readings on the ships and their number.”

  Some more time passed as the sensor signals, from the distant planet, reached the position of the fleet. Finally, the sensor tech reported, “Sir, mass measurements indicate 10 dreadnoughts and 10 cruisers. There are no destroyers.”

  Dubov looked at the threat monitor and saw only 20 vessels. True there were now dreadnoughts present, but he felt good that his force greatly outnumbered what he saw. “Monitor everything closely. Their destroyers may be hiding behind a planet waiting to pounce. Keep a watch to the rear of the fleet and pass it on to all captains.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Contrary to normal procedure, Dubov preferred to captain his own ship and control the fleet as well. This level of hubris may come back to bite him. Dubov now turned to his communication tech, “Send a tight beam message to the planet and ask General Fedin for his status.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  There was the usual delay and then more delay. No response came from the planet for well over the estimated transit time. Finally, Brigadier General Golov came on the line. “Grand Admiral Dubov, this is Brigadier General Golov. I am reporting the loss of the planet to the Forces of Nova Romae. Generals Fedin, Volkov and Zyagin are dead as are many of our troops. The rest are captive. The Romani are allowing me to communicate with you to see if this can be resolved peaceably. They will allow the fleet to leave Balin Corp space unmolested if you change course to the outbound slipstream. They await your response.”

  Dubov was dumfounded. He was well aware that Fedin had 18,000 troops on the planet and there was no indication of troop transports among the Romani. How can a bunch of pirates defeat a fleet and defeat ground forces. They are nothing but a bunch of rabble. If this is to be believed, then they must have corporate backing. The only corporation capable of such audacity is Sinclair Corp. He turned to his communications tech, “Put that transmission into a message capsule and send it with a message from me asking if Sinclair Corp could be behind this, since no pirate rabble could pull it off.”

  The pod was sent and his communications tech asked if there was a response to General Golov?

  “Send this message, ‘You should have died with your troops,’”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “What is the transit time to New Wales?”

  Navigation reported, “14 hours 33 minutes.”

  “Very well order all ships to box-ring formation and tell them to give all their crews a 9 hour rest period.”

  The admiral did not want to mention th
is to his crew, but he was wondering why there was no welcoming party at the slipstream. Normal procedure when expecting a fleet arrival was to have sentry ships to assess enemy capability. The sensors could tell a lot but not as much as direct observation at a safe distance. This was normally done by destroyers, for their speed and maneuverability. Yet the enemy fleet did not seem to possess any destroyers. In fact, he only had Perminov’s word for it that there were destroyers, though it was corroborated by the crews accompanying him in his retreat. He turned to his communications tech, “Contact Captain Abramov on the Karamazov and ask him to send the civilian Igor Perminov over to the flagship and assign him quarters with the enlisted crewmen. I want him on the bridge in nine hours.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Set the night watch and have all main shift personnel get some rest.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Petrovian Grand Admiral turned in for some rest. He still had a lot of questions and an uneasy feeling, but soon all questions would be answered. In 14 hours he will be leading the Petrov home fleet into the first large scale fleet battle in over a century and a half. With this victory, he will be able to run for high political office and perhaps become a vice president. He fell asleep trying to decide how big a house he would build and where to build it; such hubris.

  The pre-combat dance among the stars was beginning. The fleets were nearing and the ships were holding station in their formations. Each side was sizing up the other. The Romani cohorts were on the hangar decks near their boarding craft. These were similar in appearance to the gunships, but they had no hover chassis so they were lighter and meant to maneuver quickly in space. Instead of the body armor they wore planetside, they were now wearing hard vacuum body armor. All they needed to do was put on their helmets when the time came. The ship marines, who would defend against a boarding party, were dressed the same. They were spending the waiting time checking and rechecking their weapons and armor. They all knew there was no place to run in this fight. They watched the first space combat and fought hard on the ground, but now they were rolling the dice in an all or none battle, where there was no escape for the loser.