Storm of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  Harmon stood stone still for a moment. For the briefest of instants, he looked like he might back down, change his mind. But then he turned toward the Marine officer standing next to him, and he just nodded.

  Down on the scaffold, Connor Frasier stood at rigid attention, the condemned men and women shackled to the long wall, and two rows of Marines waiting with assault rifles in their hands. The firing squads were not armored, but there were hundreds of Marines in full combat gear, positioned along the edges of the scaffold, and throughout the crowd.

  Ana looked out over the silent masses, toward the Marines, and her husband. She was determined to force herself to watch, but in the end, her will failed her, and she closed her eyes, right before the assault rifles opened up, dealing out punishment to the terrorists…and a lesson to those in the crowds, and at home watching on the vids, one that made clear violent opposition would not be tolerated.

  Max Harmon had been Earth Two’s absolute rulers for twelve years, but he’d always been hesitant to use real force on the population, even those who plotted against him.

  That was over now…and no one who had watched the spectacle in the center of Compton Square would every doubt that.

  * * *

  Max Harmon walked down the corridor, feeling his pace increase with excitement as he neared the Institute’s infirmary. He’d almost leapt up from his desk when he’d gotten the call from Achilles, and he’d raced out of his office, barely giving his Marine escort time to catch up to him.

  Harmon had known what the Mules were doing, the status of their research and the long list of potential uses for their Plague cure…but he’d never really believed he would hear the words Achilles had just spoken to him.

  Nicki Frette was conscious.

  Frette had long been one of Harmon’s best friends, and he still accounted that he owed her his life. It wasn’t everyone, friend or no, who would basically crash land a spaceship to save you. Frette had been one of the prime movers in the development and growth of Earth Two’s navy over its formative years, and she’d led the fleet that had defeated the Regent’s forces twelve years before…though she’d come back from that struggle gravely wounded.

  Harmon had maintained hope for her recovery, for public consumption, at least, but, deep down, he’d long ago given up. And, as excited as he was, as much as he believed Achilles, he knew he wouldn’t truly know it was true until he saw her himself.

  “Mr. President…” Achilles was waiting for him outside the room.

  “Achilles, I want to see her immediately.”

  “Of course, sir. But…” The Mule hesitated, an affectation to which he was rarely prone. “But, please…be calm with her. She is still disoriented. The med-field preserved her body and musculature quite well, but we have not yet been able to ascertain whether she has memories from her time in the coma. She is fragile…please do not push her too hard.”

  Harmon stood still for a moment and nodded. He felt he’d been punched in the stomach as he considered the possibility that his friend had spent a dozen years, still and unmoving…but aware. He couldn’t imagine what kind of torture that would have been.

  “Yes, Achilles, of course.” He was grateful for the Mule’s words. He’d been about to barge into the room with a million questions, and now he thought about Frette, about what she was had endured…about what she was likely going through trying to adapt.

  Harmon followed the Mule into the room. His eyes fixed immediately on the cot against the far wall. There was a woman in it, propped up slightly, looking tired and worn, but most definitely awake.

  “Nicki…” He took a few more steps forward, stopping at the side of the bed.

  She turned her head slowly, the effort the movement took clear in her facial expression. But, she paused for a moment, looking up at him, and then her lips curled up into a feeble smile.

  “Max,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. She was looking at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to be quite focused. Still, he felt a flush of excitement that she recognized him.

  “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I’m afraid it’s pretty obvious.” He smiled, and then he dropped down to one knee, moving his face closer to hers. “I’m so glad to see you, my old friend.”

  “Has…it…really been…twelve…years?”

  Harmon paused for a moment, but then he nodded. “Yes, Nicki. You gave us quite a scare for a long while.” Another pause. “But, I always knew you were a tough one. Anybody who will crash a cruiser into a planet shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

  Her smile widened, and she even managed a few soft chuckles. Then, she looked up at Harmon, and he could see concern in her eyes.

  “Erika,” she said softly, barely able to force the words from her parched throat. “Is Erika here?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Flag Bridge, E2S Garret

  F-74 System

  Earth Two Date 02.26.43

  Erika West watched as the asteroid fortresses opened fire, sending dense clouds of missiles toward the rapidly-approaching First Imperium vessels. Dense, of course, was a bit of embellishment, a testament to the huge number of warheads rather than their concentration. In actuality, there were kilometers between each of the weapons, and the entire barrage was spread out over tens of thousands of klicks.

  The massive barrages from the forts joined the waves of missiles from Raj Chandra’s ships…basically every one of the republic’s vessels West hadn’t already taken from Earth Two for her own fleet. She’d been surprised the night before her departure, when Harmon had accepted her proposal and agreed to strip Earth Two of every mobile defensive unit it possessed, but she realized later she shouldn’t have been. Max Harmon was a gifted naval officer, one who had learned his craft at the feet of no less of a colossus than Terrance Compton. He knew as well as she did that a true defense of Earth Two was all but impossible, and that victory—survival—depended on finding and destroying the Regent before it did the same to them.

  “All ships…arm missiles. Prepare to launch.” Her tone was frozen.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Her people had watched the arriving enemy rip through the warp gate and past them at nearly .02c…right into the maw of Chandra’s waiting fleet and the line of fortresses. The enemy ships were frantically decelerating, trying to form up to face the forces now threatening them from all sides…but it took time to offset two percent of lightspeed, even for First Imperium antimatter-powered engines.

  West had calmly ordered her own ships, by far the larger of the two human fleets in the system, to advance on the enemy’s rear…or, more accurately, to chase after the ships still moving away from her positions. In just a moment her forces would add every missile they had to the already monstrous volley streaming toward the enemy, though hers would be coming from the opposite direction. If her people could time things just right, they might give the Intelligences on those ships a bit of a headache trying to defend against attacks from two directions arriving more or less simultaneously.

  “All ships report missiles ready, Admiral.”

  She didn’t answer right away. She sat quietly, watching. Then, a few minutes later, at a moment she’d determined half by detailed analysis and half by what her stomach told her, she said coolly, “Launch all missiles.”

  She sat for the next ten minutes, watching as wave after wave of warheads spat forth from the magazines of her ships. It was a massive show of force, a tidal wave of looming destruction unparalleled by anything else imaginable.

  Except the gargantuan cloud of missiles heading toward both her ships and Chandra’s from the First Imperium fleet.

  The force arrayed in the system was all the combined might of Earth Two, everything the republic could cobble together, save for Strand’s ships still back in G48. West had chosen one of the decoy systems as the site of her great stand, in spite of the distance and the very real danger the enemy would attack before her fleet arrived.

  The decoys had been developed to
confuse the enemy, and for years, they had been supported by false commercial traffic and made up communications. The Regent’s forces had discovered one of the systems, and its forces had taken considerable losses from the fortified positions there before obliterating the planet…and subsequently realizing they had been deceived.

  Now, West was using another of the decoys, augmenting her outnumbered ships with the fixed defenses…and Chandra’s waiting fleet.

  She watched as her fleet sent all its missiles out toward the enemy. Her escorts, and even the cruisers, quickly emptied their magazines, but her massive battleships continued to fire, sending wave after wave of deadly weapons toward the enemy. The largest of her ships, Garret, Holm, and LeGrand, finally launched the last of their missiles…moments before the leading edge of the enemy wave entered tactical range.

  “All defensive batteries, prepare for point defense operations. All batteries are to fire at will as targets come into range.”

  Sampson turned and relayed the order on the fleetcom. West sat quietly and watched for a minute, perhaps ninety seconds…and then she heard the distant whine of Garret’s point defense turrets opening fire.

  * * *

  The Intelligence reviewed the scanner reports. The system was occupied, the planet located in the zone habitable for biologics. There was a considerable energy signature, and freighter traffic between the inhabited world and those deeper out in the system.

  Was it possible the enemy had, in fact, returned to its homeworld? Was this the target for which the Regent had searched all these years?

  There was no certainty. The enemy had lured the Regent’s forces to a false homeworld once before, a trick that had caused the fleet to suffer considerable losses, both in ships and materiel, and slowed its search for the true target. The Intelligence was leery of another trap, but it could not discount the possibility that it had discovered the target world. The forces waiting in the system had clearly expected its arrival, and that increased the probability that the entire situation, perhaps even the enemy’s flight itself, was part of some kind of ambush planned by the humans.

  The Intelligence considered withdrawing, but it rejected that option almost immediately. Its velocity was too great to quickly come about, and it would endure extensive attacks from the humans before it could reach the warp gate and transit back. Besides, though the odds of combat were not as advantageous as it had expected, it still had the greater force. Losses would likely be high, but it determined that it could defeat the humans deployed in the system. If this was their homeworld, the war itself would be won at a stroke. If it was a trap, some sort of deception—as the Intelligence suspected—the battle would at least destroy the enemy fleet, which was its primary goal anyway. After that, it would only be a matter of time before the human homeworld was found and obliterated.

  The Intelligence analyzed its position. Its fleet was stronger than the combined enemy forces, but it position was disadvantageous. It was compelled to decelerate rapidly, reducing the energy that could be deployed to weapons systems, at least initially. And, the enemy bracketed it on two sides, closing from both directions.

  The Intelligence had launched all its missiles, dividing its barrage between the two enemy forces. That had been done before it had assembled the full data on what it faced, and it considered now that perhaps it should have concentrated the volley against a single target. It quickly set aside that line of computation…there was no point in reconsidering tactical options it could no longer implement. But, now, it had decided on its course of action.

  It would decelerate, but it would reduce the rate of thrust it applied, feeding more energy into its energy weapons. It would focus on the enemy forces to its front, the fortresses and the smaller fleet. Slowing the rate of deceleration would buy time before the larger human fleet could close to its own energy weapons range, giving the Intelligence time to destroy the forward force. Then it would turn about and engage the fleet it had been pursuing originally…and complete its victory.

  It sent the orders to all ships. Prepare to defend against enemy missiles…and charge all energy offensive batteries.

  * * *

  “Captain, all ships are to prepare for laser barrage. I’m going to want all batteries at one hundred five percent power when those enemy ships move into range, and I want all the power conduits and arming circuits checked now.”

  Terrance Compton sat at his workstation, listening to Admiral Chandra’s orders. He was edgy, nervous, but he put all he had into maintaining a calm demeanor, one that would make his famous father proud. “Yes, Admiral.”

  Compton leaned forward and repeated the admiral’s commands over the fleetcom. The orders weren’t exactly unexpected, but Compton still found it difficult to stay focused and confirm the acknowledgements from each of the fleet’s ships. He was distracted, in truth, because he was scared out of his mind.

  He’d read accounts of his father’s many battles, and he wondered how the elder Compton had managed to remain so stoic in the face of constant, deadly danger. Terrance felt shame, even as he hid that along with his fear. He’d come with the fleet by his own choice, to prove he could be his father’s son…but now he wasn’t sure he could manage it.

  He understood why Admiral Chandra had chosen him as an aide—perhaps more likely, felt he’d had to choose him—but he wished he had a lower profile job. He’d come to regret the courtesy rank President Harmon had given him. The captain’s insignia on his collar made it too hard to give him some faceless post in the bowels of one of the ships, one where his duties—and his failure if it came to that—would be someplace not quite so visible, and with consequences far less severe.

  He’d been relieved at first at his posting in one respect—he’d been deathly afraid he’d be put in command of one of the fleet’s ships—but now he realized he had even greater responsibility, that even more lives depended on his keeping his shit together.

  He realized with a start that his board showed that every fleet unit had responded. He wasn’t sure how long the indicators had been alight, but he turned hurriedly and reported, “All fleet units acknowledge, Admiral.”

  He moved back toward his bank of screens, watching as the waves of newly-launched missiles moved toward the enemy…and those launched by the First Imperium forces streaked toward the fleet.

  Toward Cain, and on the great ship’s flag bridge…him. He tried to suppress a shiver.

  “Defensive batteries…open fire. Full point defense operations.”

  Compton heard Chandra’s orders, and he spun around and forwarded them through the fleetcom as he had the previous set, perhaps with a bit more noticeable urgency this time. Prepping the heavy guns in advance entering range was one thing, but now the fleet would be shooting at missiles, deadly antimatter weapons that were coming right for them. An extra few seconds could save lives. Chandra’s life. His life.

  He sat and watched his workstation, feeling almost frozen in place. It would still be a few minutes before the missiles would reach detonation range, but the danger began to weigh heavily on him. A few seconds later, his screens lit up with the antimissile fire of the waiting vessels, defensive rockets and pinpoint lasers targeting the approaching warheads with all the skill the fleet’s AIs and gunners could muster.

  The shots were deadly, many of them at least, and dozens of incoming missiles vanished in massive explosions. The fleet’s fusion warheads didn’t usually detonate when intercepted, they just blew apart with muted blasts that barely showed up on scanners…but even a grazing hit from a defensive gun could shatter containment on an antimatter weapon, triggering an immediate—and massive—detonation. It made for quite a fireworks display, but it was unnerving, as well, to see the power of the weapons when hundreds of them were still moving relentlessly forward, their engines blasting at nearly 100g, attempting to close with the waiting warships of the fleet.

  Compton took a deep breath, and held it for a moment, trying to hold things together, to find the c
ourage he desperately wanted to believe lived inside him.

  His life, for all the privilege he’d always enjoyed, had been a difficult and chaotic one in many ways, and he’d handled the pressure he’d inherited poorly. He was embarrassed about his youthful behavior, and he was determined to prove he was a valuable member of Earth Two society.

  That he could become something that would have brought his father pride.

  He didn’t know yet if he could…but he was pretty sure he was about to find out.

  * * *

  “Cain’s thrust has dropped almost fifty percent, Admiral. We’re still too far out for close scans, but it looks like she’s bleeding air from multiple locations.”

  West sat stone faced, not acknowledging Sampson’s report, not even turning her head slightly toward the aide’s direction. She was in battle mode, and as grim and resolute as her reputation made her, she was determined to exceed even that standard. Raj Chandra was there in the system because she’d asked Max Harmon to send him, because she’d needed one more command-level officer she trusted completely, and he was the entirety of the list of available names. She couldn’t let herself feel anything now, not fear, not intimidation at the size of the enemy fleet…and not guilt for dragging her friend from a well-deserved retirement to what was beginning to look like it could very well be an apocalypse.

  The First Imperium missile barrages had been particularly effective, more so than they typically were. A dozen of her ships were broken, bleeding hulls, half of them dead in space, the others still moving forward with some small remnant of thrust. But, Chandra’s ships and the asteroids had taken the brunt of the enemy’s attack. Six of the asteroids had been hit directly, victims of their inability to conduct evasive maneuvers. The antimatter warheads were enormously powerful, not enough to pulverize the asteroids themselves, except in one case, but each hit obliterated all manmade structures on the great chunks of rock…and killed the crews of the bases to a man.