Empire Divided

Empire Rising Book 22

D. J. Holmes

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Cover illustrated by Tom Edwards:

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

Copyright © D. J. Holmes 2025

Prologue

Hiridan system, Sar-tum Clan space (four months after the close of Empire’s End).

Rage flowed through Clan Lord Rigel-ese as he sat completely still in his command chair. The only outward sign of his feelings were the razor-sharp claws that extended from his knuckles into the padded sides of his chair’s armrest. Inside, however, a storm swirled within him. How dare he! Rigel-ese thought as he watched the fleet of eight thousand warships fan out as they entered his system.

For eighteen years, throughout almost all of the civil war, Rigel-ese had led the Sar-tum clan. Immediately after his bloody rise to power, he had thrown in his support for one of the now-dead claimants. "False Imperator," Rigel-ese’s chosen champion was now called. Eventually, like every other Clan Lord, he had been forced to bow the knee to Tanaka-lan. In all the fighting that had occurred throughout those eighteen years, including their defeat to Tanaka-lan’s warships, and then their bending the knee, Rigel-ese’s closest ally, Lord Canso-vasa, leader of the Jas-sov Clan, had been by Rigel-ese’s side.

Now Canso-vasa had betrayed him. Five months ago, the news of Tanaka-lan’s death had finally reached Rigel-ese. Shock had quickly turned to dismay as Rigel-ese realized another civil war loomed on the horizon. Rigel-ese had known right away that this time would be worse for his clan. A great deal of his clan’s strength had been lost in Tanaka-lan’s foolish invasion of Human space. Rigel-ese also understood his fellow clan leaders all too well. He knew the divisions that ran deep between many of them. A new Imperator would only be chosen through great bloodshed. To many of the Clan Lords, Rigel-ese’s clan would now appear weak and ripe for the taking.

Rigel-ese had hoped Canso-vasa and the Jas-sov clan would stand with him. Together, they would be able to fend off any other strong alliances that formed and prevent their clan worlds from being stripped from them. Yet he had been wrong.

Two weeks ago, Rigel-ese’s spies had brought him news he had refused to believe at first. His friend and ally had betrayed him. Canso-vasa had already made a pact with another clan and several strong families and was seeking to install himself as Imperator. That Canso-vasa hadn’t offered Rigel-ese the chance to join him meant Rigel-ese’s friend already knew what he would say to such an offer. Though they were allies, Rigel-ese could never allow his immediate neighbor to become Imperator. If Canso-vasa did rise to such a height, his powers would be absolute. Like it had been with every Imperator before, Canso-vasa would inevitably begin to use his powers to expand his clan's influence and territory at the expense of its neighbors. Rigel-ese could not allow that; his clan always came first.

And so, instead of renewing their alliance, Canso-vasa had chosen betrayal. Alongside the news of his neighbor's aspirations to become Imperator, Rigel-ese’s spies had brought news of an impending attack. Canso-vasa planned to strike at one of Rigel-ese’s most important systems. The Hiridan system was responsible for over sixty percent of the valstronium Rigel-ese’s clan mined. Without it, his clan would never be able to rebuild the warships they had lost fighting the Humans. In one attack, Rigel-ese’s former ally intended to ensure he had no influence over who became the next Imperator.

Rigel-ese had been given no choice. When he had first heard of Tanaka-lan’s death, he had sworn not to get pulled into the inter-clan wars that he knew were about to break out. Within just a handful of months, Canso-vasa had forced him to break that vow! With his old ally set against him, Rigel-ese had sent out covert messages to several other clans and prominent families. Enough had answered his call. Now he was ready to face Canso-vasa. Soon his former friend would learn that his bid for power would not come as easily as he had thought. And you will realize the cost of betrayal! Rigel-ese thought.

Though rage continued to flow through him, Rigel-ese was patient. The Hiridan system had over twenty different valstronium mining operations strung out throughout the system. His so-called ally had come to take them all along with all the stockpiles of the precious metal held within the system’s main resource depot. The depot, of course, was empty, but Rigel-ese couldn’t simply evacuate the mining facilities. That was not a problem, however. In order to capture all the facilities before they could be scuttled, Canso-vasa’s fleet was charging into the system and spreading out as it did so. Squadrons of at least a hundred ships moved to capture each mining facility, while the majority of Canso-vasa’s fleet headed for the resource depot deep within the system.

For an hour, Rigel-ese watched and waited as his now enemy spread his forces out far too thin. Then the moment came. “Take us in!” Rigel-ese ordered his Chief of Staff.

Seconds later, all eight thousand warships Rigel-ese had managed to gather on such short notice jumped into the Hiridan system through its easternmost shift passage, right on the flank of Canso-vasa’s fleet. At once, they began to charge. Sensing the danger they were in, almost all of Canso-vasa’s spread-out squadrons started to reverse course. It was too late for three of the nearest to Rigel-ese’s fleet. Without mercy, thousands of missiles struck the invaders. Three hundred and fifty-four ships were destroyed within a matter of minutes.

Without slowing, Rigel-ese flung his fleet into the flank of his enemy. Hundreds of thousands of missiles were exchanged from both sides. In an engagement that lasted just sixteen minutes, two thousand ships were lost, the majority of which belonged to Canso-vasa. However, as more of Canso-vasa’s squadrons started to join the fight, and the main body of the enemy fleet approached the battle, Rigel-ese pulled back. Canso-vasa’s ships did the same, content to wait for the rest of their strength to join them.

Though his forces were still outnumbered, Rigel-ese pulled back just far enough to adjust his formation to make up for the losses he had suffered. Then he placed his fleet right between Canso-vasa’s and the inner system. Canso-vasa’s fleet formed up into a single formation, but it didn’t advance. Instead it simply waited, goading Rigel-ese with their presence. Eventually, Rigel-ese’s anger got the better of him. He activated his flagship’s COM unit.

“What are you waiting for, traitor? You have already betrayed me and begun to pay the price. Come on and fight me and learn the consequences of your folly. You think you can be Imperator? You can’t even defeat your neighbor, even when you attack through trickery,” Rigel-ese spat. “Come on then, throw your fleet against mine…” Rigel-ese paused and bared his teeth. “Or what is the problem? Are you scared you will lose your precious ships? Do you need them to show your new friends how strong you are?” Rigel-ese taunted.

No reply came, so he continued, upping the ante. “You have nothing to say? Well then, let me make it easy for you. Come and face me one-on-one. My ship against yours. If I win, your fleets will be mine, and if you win, then you can have this system and continue your ridiculous bid to be Imperator.” Turning off the COM channel, Rigel-ese gestured for his flagship to be taken out of the heart of his fleet.

As Retribution moved forward, exuberance filled the bridge. Rigel-ese’s words and actions were clear to every Karacknid in the system. Though he had no desire to make his own bid to be Imperator, he now had no choice. To stop Canso-vasa, he had to beat his now-rival to the title. His ship-to-ship trava-klan challenge was his announcement that he considered himself the true successor to Tanaka-lan. Though he puffed out his chest and let saliva run through his teeth, Rigel-ese felt no real excitement. At least, not at the prospect of becoming Imperator. He was more than ready to face Canso-vasa and kill him in combat. The snarling traitor deserved nothing but death.

However, though Retribution moved out between the two opposing fleets, Canso-vasa’s flagship remained still. So too did his fleet. For several minutes, none of the invading ships moved. Then, as one, they all turned and quickly began to accelerate back toward the shift passage they had entered the system from.

Retribution’s bridge filled with battle cries of victory, snarls, and curses hurled at the cowardly way in which the enemy was retreating. Rigel-ese only felt disappointment. By retreating, Canso-vasa’s actions guaranteed that the confrontation between their two clans was not over. If Canso-vasa wanted to be Imperator, he would have to conquer Rigel-ese’s clan. He had to know – he needed to wipe away the stain on his honor. If he didn’t, whatever other clans and families he had been courting to join his bid for Imperator would quickly turn away from him. Rigel-ese held back a sigh. As much as he had hated Tanaka-lan, at least the Admiral had put an end to the constant fighting between the clans. Now we must go to war all over again!

As a thought came to him, Rigel-ese activated Retribution’s COM array again. “So you have chosen to run? That is hardly the action of a Clan Lord, never mind an Imperator! I call you a coward, Lord Canso-vasa. A coward and a betrayer. You have broken every word you and your clan have ever given to me. You’re not fit to lead your people, never mind our entire Empire. Go back to your worlds with your claws retracted. You have come up against true warriors today; may you remember well the lesson you have been taught.”

Again, Rigel-ese’s words brought cheers and cries of assent from his officers. However, they weren’t meant for his own people, though it did raise their thirst for battle. Rigel-ese was certain Canso-vasa would be back. He had to restore his honor. When he did return, Rigel-ese wanted his words to be in Canso-vasa’s mind. For if his enemy was angry, then he was more likely to make another mistake.

You have made two here already today, my friend. You have betrayed me and underestimated me, and I will see that you make many more before this is over. Having accepted his new reality, Rigel-ese’s mind had already begun to contemplate all that was about to happen. If war was to be thrust upon his clan, then he would fight with every ounce of skill he had. You will rue this day, my friend, he thought towards Canso-vasa as his now-enemy fled. Mark my words!

Chapter 1

Often, the founding of a dynasty stands or falls on the strength of the first heir. In this, the Empire was blessed.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Earth, Westminster Abbey, 24th February 2514 AD, (two weeks after the close of Inheritance of War).

“Do you take this woman to be your wife, to love and lead, to provide for and protect?” the Archbishop of Canterbury asked Jonathan.

Jonathan looked down at the woman whose hands he held in his. The first time he had given her his answer, there hadn’t been any doubt in his mind, and now there was not even a hint of it. “I do,” he said loudly as he smiled at Becca.

“And do you take this man to be your husband, to respect and submit to, and to love and cherish?” the Archbishop asked as he turned to Becca.

Becca nodded firmly. “I do.”

“Then it is my pleasure to officially declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the Archbishop said.

Still smiling, Jonathan winked at Becca and then leaned in and gave her a deep kiss as if it were their first as husband and wife. He then turned and held up a hand as they both looked out at the rows and rows of pews, full of people. Cheers and applause broke out all around them.

“Well,” Jonathan said as he leaned over and whispered in Becca’s ear. “How do you like your weddings, in secret or like this?”

Expertly, Becca kept her smiling face even as she answered. “The sooner I can get out of all this fluff and puff, the better!”

Jonathan smiled again. He felt the same, and if he felt that way, it had to be far worse for his wife. She was far more comfortable in her military fatigues and even civilian clothing. He had to suppress a grin as he thought about it. She had to be hating the dress his mother had picked out for her. Yet she looked absolutely stunning. Every inch of her exuded royalty – just as it was meant to. His mother had chosen well.

“We will be able to get some time out of the spotlight soon enough,” Jonathan promised. “But we still have a few key things to do yet, my dear.”

Jonathan watched as Becca almost rolled her eyes but caught herself before she did. He couldn’t help nodding in approval. His mother was training her well. He then looked out at the massive crowds as they continued to cheer. Almost everyone in Westminster Abbey and within the Empire knew that he and Becca had been married in secret over a year ago, but it didn’t seem to take away from the significance of the occasion. After Jonathan’s father’s death and funeral, the Empire’s public needed something to celebrate, and his mother had said a wedding was just what was needed. Plus, they had to have a public ceremony. It was necessary for what was about to come next.

Patiently, Jonathan, Becca, and the Archbishop waited until the cheering and clapping came to an end. Then the Archbishop raised his voice. “If the Imperial heir and his wife would now make their way to the royal thrones.”

Suddenly, an electric charge of nerves shot up Jonathan’s spine. Publicly declaring his marriage to Becca was no problem for him. What came next was entirely different, however. As Becca took his hand again, they slowly walked over to the two thrones that sat slightly off to one side of the main platform at the front of the Abbey. They were his parents' thrones. Growing up, Jonathan had played on them with his brothers and sisters. He had also watched both his parents receive important government officials or foreign dignitaries from those very thrones. Now they were both empty.

Jonathan couldn’t help the moistness that engulfed his eyes as he stopped in front of his father’s throne. Gently, he reached out and touched it. It had been empty now for over six months. Nevertheless, it still felt wrong for him to be standing here. How can I ever replace him? Jonathan had asked himself that countless times over the last six months. As he looked at the throne, his mother’s answer came back to him afresh: You can’t, but you can be your own man. You have already shown that you can lead, and that you have everything in you that made him great. You can’t replace him, but you can be his son and heir and carry on his legacy. It is you we trust to take his place.

And that was the key of it. Who else would Jonathan trust? Who else would go to the same lengths Jonathan would to protect everything his father had lived and died to build? Unless Georgia or Edward took Jonathan’s place, he knew the answer was no one.

With a fresh sense of determination, Jonathan glanced at the other empty throne as Becca moved over and stood in front of it. Just two weeks ago, his mother had officially announced she was stepping down as Empress. Though Jonathan had known for the last several months, it still felt surreal to him. She had been as much a rock for him as she had been for his father – more than that, for all of the Empire’s citizens. When James had been off campaigning, Christine had always been there, leading and guiding Humanity’s fledgling Empire.

Now, she would continue to do so, though in the background, which meant it would never be the same. As part of the Emperor and Empress’s Inner Council, Christine would still be able to serve humanity with all the experience and skills she had. Yet she would no longer be the face of the Empire. But she is ready, Jonathan told himself as his eyes met Becca’s. Becca would never be his mother. She was a marine first, and no matter how skilled a politician or governor she might become, she would always be a warrior at heart. But she doesn’t have to be my mother, no more than I have to be him, Jonathan thought. We can do this our own way, together.

With a nod to one another, they turned to face the silent crowds that watched on, and then slowly sat on the thrones. The Archbishop came and stood between them. He then raised his voice. “Jonathan and Becca Somerville, do you willingly accept the roles of Emperor and Empress of the Human Empire? Do you vow to give your all to uphold its constitution, to protect its citizens, and to lead and guide our species, putting our people even before your own lives?”

“We do,” Jonathan and Becca said solemnly together.

The Archbishop gestured to a couple of his aides. Quickly, two men dressed in fine red and black livery each approached. In their arms, they held velvet pillows upon which sat the two Imperial crowns. The Archbishop reached out and took Jonathan’s first. “By the power vested in me by the three Houses of the Imperial government, I now anoint you, Jonathan Somerville, Emperor of the Human Empire.”

As the heavy crown was placed on Jonathan’s head, he felt far more weight settle upon him than just that of the gold and diamonds he now wore. All his life, he had been raised to prepare for this moment. Even so, he still felt totally inadequate. But I have had the best of examples, he told himself as he found the encouragement he needed.

The Archbishop then took the second crown and turned to Becca. “By the power vested in me by the three Houses of the Imperial government, I also anoint you, Becca Somerville, Empress of the Human Empire. May both of you serve and rule our people to the best of your abilities.”

The Archbishop then fell to one knee as he bowed to Jonathan and Becca in turn. Behind him, the Abbey was filled with the noise of over two thousand people getting to their feet. Then all the Imperial citizens within the Abbey took a knee as they bowed as well.

In silence, the Archbishop stood and turned to look out at the gathered citizens. “Present here are all the elected officials of our three Houses of government, many of our governors, and many of our highest-ranking officers. You represent the people of our Empire. Do you vow to honor and obey our Emperor and Empress, and to give them your fealty as you join them in protecting our people and upholding our constitution?”

With a deep, resounding boom, every voice spoke in unison. “We do.”

“Then let us celebrate!” the Archbishop said as his voice suddenly lost a great deal of its solemnity. “For this is a momentous day!”

Immediately, cheers erupted throughout the Abbey. Moments later, a far greater roar responded from the tens of thousands who had gathered around the Abbey to watch Jonathan and Becca’s arrival and to be in the vicinity for their ascension. For what felt like a long period of time to Jonathan – five minutes at least – waves of roars and applause washed back and forth through the Abbey and around its outside. It was far more than Jonathan thought necessary, far more than he expected. He knew he didn’t deserve it, yet it left a lasting impression on him nonetheless. Whatever love the people had for him and Becca, he knew it was because of who his mother and father were and what they had done. One more reason not to let them down, he told himself.

Eventually, the cheering and clapping came to an end. When it did, Jonathan nodded his thanks to the Archbishop, who stepped back to one side. Then Jonathan stood and addressed his citizens for the first time. Though he had given much thought to what he intended to say, he had brought no notes. He wanted what he was going to say to come from the heart.

As he began to speak, his words were transmitted live across the Sol system, while the FTL COM array transmitted them to every world in the Empire and to the capitals of every one of Humanity’s allies.

“Citizens of the Empire, you do my wife and I great honor today, as you do my father and mother. They, along with you and your parents, built this Empire. Out of the ashes left by the Karacknids’ first attack on us, they forged our species into one political entity and fought and won our freedom. My father devoted his life to the task of protecting us from the Karacknids’ return, and he gave his life to ensure that every one of us remains free.

“My mother has served us just as well. Though she won no battles, she ensured my father had the ships, the crews, and the backing of our Empire with which to fight and defeat the Karacknids. And she has sacrificed as much as any of us to see the Karacknids defeated.

“Compared to them, I know my wife and I do not deserve to be here. Yet here we stand. The responsibility to protect you all and our constitution now rests on our shoulders. To all of you, this I swear: Becca and I will do our utmost to live up to the examples my mother and father have left. We will lead you as they led you, and fight for you as they fought for you. That is my oath to you. If it costs us our lives, then that will be a small price to pay to defend your freedom and uphold the constitution that protects our innate rights.”

Jonathan paused and took a deep breath as he looked out at the hundreds of silent faces that all stared back at him. “That is why I must inform you all that within months, I will be leading our fleets to war once more. The threat from the Silizzarus has been neutralized, but the Karacknids are far from defeated. They are, however, divided. With Tanaka-lan’s death, they are scrambling to choose a new Imperator. For the moment, they are weak.” Jonathan raised a clenched fist. “Now is the time we must strike. Now it is time to weaken them. For too long, we have lived under the constant threat of invasion. Too many of our worlds have been destroyed by their nuclear holocaust. This must come to an end.

“My father was a warrior with no equal. I have now inherited one final task that must be accomplished. What he started must be finished. And so, I make you one more vow.” Turning slightly, Jonathan reached out and took Becca’s hand. “I will not return until our enemy has been defeated and their threat neutralized. All my father knew was war. If I can, I intend to bring peace to the Empire he birthed!”

Hundreds of Senators, Representatives, Servants, and many other officials shot to their feet as a roar of approval assaulted Jonathan’s ears. Fists were pumped in the air. Heads nodded vigorously. Shouts of assent and agreement echoed throughout the Abbey. When it eventually quieted enough to speak again, Jonathan finished his speech. “May we accomplish this together. We are all citizens of the Empire. May we win a peace for ourselves and for all those who will follow after us!”

Another wave of assent filled the Abbey. It went on for so long that Jonathan gently pulled Becca to her feet, and then led her as they both bowed to the gathered audience. Then they made their way down through the middle of the pews. As the large oak doors opened for them, a far greater wave of applause greeted them as they stepped outside. The noise was far too loud for Jonathan to speak to Becca, so they simply smiled at each other as they walked out to the carriages that awaited them. For over an hour, the carriages slowly pulled them past tens of thousands, and then hundreds of thousands of thronging crowds who lined their way all through the newly built London streets.

Only when the carriage reached the shuttle pads at the edge of the city, where the royal shuttle awaited them, did the crowds disappear. Imperial Guard marines quickly escorted Jonathan and Becca into the shuttle, and then it took off for the short flight to Badminton House. Jonathan’s mother had given him and Becca his father’s ancestral home so that they had a place to stay outside of the Palace. When Christine had told him, it had brought a tear to Jonathan’s eye. Though he hadn’t grown up in the house, his father had taken them there many, many times over the years. Almost every field, stream, and room within the large house held a memory or story his father had told about it.

Jonathan reached out and took Becca’s hand as they sat beside each other in the shuttle. Though they only had a day for their second honeymoon, he intended to make the most of it. “Let’s try not to think about it all,” he said to her. “We can worry about our new responsibilities when we return to the Palace. The rest of today and tomorrow is all about us.”

Becca nodded. “As you wish, my Emperor,” she said with a small grin and a glint in her eye. Then she leaned in and kissed Jonathan deeply.

Chapter 2

At times, peace can be won by strength of arms; at others, it must be maintained with eternal vigilance. The latter has always been true of the Empire.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Vulcan, low Earth orbit, 27th August 2514 AD, (six months later).

Not for the first time, Jonathan had secluded himself in one of Vulcan’s observation blisters. Months ago, he had ordered it modified with a military-grade holographic projector and holo table. Over the last hundred years, Vulcan—originally the British Star Kingdom’s eminent shipyard—had built some of the most important ships humanity had ever constructed. Both his father’s first and last ships had been constructed here. Jonathan now liked to come here when he wanted time alone just to think. In the Palace, he had a far larger and more sophisticated tactical suite, yet he was always being interrupted by fleet officers, government officials, or palace staff. Only here could he be truly alone.

In front of him, two very different displays were projected. On the holo table at which he sat; a star map of the Karacknid Empire hovered just above his hands. In intricate detail, it marked out every Karacknid world, fleet base, known locations of enemy formations, and, crucially, split the Karacknid Empire into its constituent parts. With fourteen tribes, fifty-six families, and many other smaller organizational structures, the Karacknid Empire was fractured into many parts.

Above Jonathan, the Sol system was displayed in all its glory. Thousands of stations were marked, and tens of thousands of civilian craft were being tracked in real-time as they crisscrossed the system between Earth, Mars, Europa, and the asteroid habitats in the outer system. Almost as many large freighters were moving between the inner system and the jump gates stationed at each of the natural and artificial shift passages that led away from Sol.

As he sat in the old wooden seat Jonathan had brought up to Vulcan from his father’s library in the Palace, his eyes looked up as he surveyed the fleet in low Earth orbit. Over the last six months, he had worked tirelessly to gather the forces he needed. Now, forty-four thousand warships kept station with one another. Nearly half were ships from the Eaglaton Protectorate. Now that Humanity’s newest allies were fully committed to the war, they had significantly reinforced Vice Admiral Reverus’ command.

The rest consisted of ships from the species that had been fighting the Karacknids from the beginning of the war. Every one of Humanity’s allies had sent all the ships they could spare. The Empire shipyards had also been working at maximum capacity for two years now, and with the Kulreans fully committed to the war, their shipyards had begun to turn out warships built along modified Allied designs as well.

Jonathan’s eyes were drawn to one of those ships, IS Imperial. She was his new flagship—twenty percent larger than any previous dreadnought designs and built with Kulrean reactors, engines, and shields. She was like a mini Kulrean worldship. Alongside her, nineteen other identical ships kept formation. Alone, she would have been able to blast apart the entire fleet of the British Star Kingdom from when Jonathan’s father had first become a captain. And with all the technologies they had gained from the Silizzarus, Jonathan knew the next generation of dreadnoughts would be even more powerful.

As his eyes moved away from Imperial and surveyed the rest of the fleet, and the even larger supply fleet nearby, Jonathan felt the strain and stress he had endured to gather such a force. The campaign he envisaged would likely last a minimum of six months, though there was every possibility it could take years. To do that, Jonathan didn’t just need a battlefleet—he needed a supply system that could feed, arm, and repair his ships across a span of at least fifteen hundred light-years for an indefinite period of time. The logistics involved in such a task had never been attempted by Humanity or any of her allies before. Thankfully, Jonathan had his mother, Andrea Clements, and Admiral Scott to help him. Yet his body still felt the strain of bringing together everything his eyes beheld.

And all so we can finally tear this apart, Jonathan thought as he looked down at the star map before him. Since his father had first discovered them, the Karacknids had constantly been expanding their borders closer to Human space. They had entirely conquered the Mindus and pushed their worlds right up to the edge of Varanni alliance space and the northernmost Human colonies before Jonathan’s father had defeated Taranaki and ended the First Karacknid War. Then, for the first time in millennia, the Karacknid borders had actually shrunk back as many outlying worlds were abandoned during the Karacknid clans' first civil war. Now, The Wilds stood between Varanni, Mindus, and Human space and the Karacknid Empire.

Yet Tanaka-lan’s charge through The Wilds and assault on Zeta Fort and New Shanghai had shown all too clearly that The Wilds were no safety barrier for Humanity. No, Jonathan thought as he shook his head. The only way to put an end to the threat of invasion he had lived with all his life was to dismantle the Karacknid Empire.

The map in front of him showed the territories of the fourteen major Karacknid clans. Together, they controlled over three thousand systems. There was no way Jonathan could invade and hold them all. But he knew if he could knock out two or three of the nearest clans that bordered Allied space, the Karacknids would be massively weakened. More than that, if he could drive a wedge between the factions forming within the Karacknid Empire as various clans strove with one another to put their own claimant on the Karacknid throne, then he could ensure the Karacknids could never again unite to send an invasion fleet toward Human worlds.

Three or four clans are all we need, Jonathan told himself. If his fleets could destroy four Karacknid clans now, he was sure the Karacknids would never be able to recover. While they continued to weaken themselves with their infighting, Humanity and her allies would only grow stronger, and with the addition of Silizzarus technologies, the Karacknids would never again be able to threaten Earth.

That certainty was what Jonathan’s plan was built around. Alongside the fleet he had gathered at Earth, another force of thirty thousand, largely made up of more Eaglaton warships, was being gathered at Scalatar, the Gramrians' homeworld. While Jonathan’s fleet would strike north and hit the territories of at least two Karacknid clans, the second Allied fleet would move northwest and do the same to the two clan territories nearest Scalatar. Combined, Jonathan hoped their attacks would knock out nearly a third of the Karacknid Empire’s systems. Having suffered that much damage, he was sure the Karacknids could never again assemble a battlefleet capable of rivaling the strength the Allied species could put together.

And they are already helping us in this goal, Jonathan thought as he waved a hand and added the latest intelligence reports to the star map. Several systems within the Karacknid Empire began to flash, marking the sites of confirmed or suspected battles between the Karacknid clans. Along the southern and eastern borders of the Karacknid Empire, Human and other Allied spy ships had spent the last year ranging deeper and deeper into the border clan territories. Roving even deeper than that, Kalassai spy ships ranged the entire length and breadth of the Karacknid Empire. For well over a thousand years, their species had remained hidden within parts of the Karacknid Empire as the Karacknids had unsuccessfully tried to hunt them to extinction. Now, they brought vital information to Jonathan and the other Allied commanders.

The vast majority of the information Jonathan had at his fingertips, however, came from another source. Ever since his father had sacrificed himself to kill Tanaka-lan, thousands of Free Karacknids had been streaming across the border into the Wilds and south toward Human space. Some of them did so because they had lost faith in the Karacknid way of life and sought something more; others because they believed Jonathan, as his father’s heir, was the true Imperator of their species.

All of them brought horrific stories of being chased and hunted by other Karacknid forces, as they were deemed traitors and treated accordingly. Jonathan suspected there were far more Free Karacknids who had died on the journey than had actually made it to The Wilds. Hundreds of thousands, the majority likely including women and children, had most certainly been murdered by their so-called brethren.

Yet with their stories of loss and hardship, the Free Karacknids also brought vital intelligence. Intelligence that told Jonathan many of the Karacknid clans had already begun vying with each other for power, and even battles had begun to be fought as they all jockeyed for position. Jonathan kept himself abreast of every intelligence report, constantly updating his invasion plan as he sought out the weakest enemy positions to strike and the best ways to divide and weaken his enemies' empire.

This was why he had been spending more and more time on Vulcan in seclusion. As Humanity’s Emperor, and as the recognized Imperator of the Free Karacknids, he was the only one who could lead the invasion fleet that would set out from Earth. Though he had many extremely capable commanders to advise him, the buck stopped with Jonathan. The success of the coming campaign would fall on his shoulders alone. And so, I cannot leave any stone unturned, Jonathan told himself as he examined the star map in front of him and weighed the impact of the latest intelligence reports on how he envisioned things playing out.

For over an hour, he stared at the map, going over scenario after scenario. Despite the weight of what he would soon be undertaking, Jonathan eventually found he couldn’t keep his weary mind from wandering. As it so often did, Jonathan ended up thinking of his father. Many questions rolled through his mind. What extra preparations might his father have considered? What line of advance into the Karacknid Empire would he have chosen? How would his father have split up such a powerful battlefleet between his different Admirals? Those and more caused Jonathan to second-guess everything he had done over the last six months.

Jonathan welcomed the questions though, for they forced him to consider and reconsider every decision he had made. His father was the greatest space-faring Admiral Humanity had ever known. Asking what he would do if he were in Jonathan’s shoes was never a bad thing. The only problem Jonathan had was that he wasn’t always sure he knew what his father would do.

In time, Jonathan’s mind wandered further. Other problems began to grab his attention, like the thousands of sentient species the Karacknids had conquered. What was he going to do with them all? Already, The Wilds was full of sentient species that Humanity struggled to help. Most had fallen back to pre-spaceflight technological levels after the Karacknids had abandoned their worlds. Even then, famine and other disasters had killed billions—billions that Humanity and her allies had been unable to help. They simply didn’t have the resources or ships to do so.

Jonathan knew it would be worse once his invasion started. If they even just took out one Karacknid clan, hundreds of worlds home to sentient species would be freed. Yet there was no way his invasion fleet could help more than a handful of them and hope to continue its advance. Yes, Jonathan had made some provisions within his plans to offer aid, but the reality was that for every light-year he pushed back the Karacknid Empire, he would be leaving tens of worlds to suffer.

In the long run, Jonathan was sure almost every species would thank him for the freedom he brought them. But that didn’t preclude the possibility that billions, maybe even trillions, might die. The Karacknid Empire was specifically set up so that each conquered species was specialized in one thing and completely dependent on other worlds to survive. While one species might produce copious amounts of grain or other foodstuffs, another might just manufacture one specific part needed for their warships. The first world would do well if liberated from their oppressors, but the second could see half its population or more starve if food imports from its neighbor stopped.

Where he could, Jonathan intended to capture and give away as many Karacknid freighters as possible to allow each sentient species to continue sharing resources with their neighbors, hopefully in a way that promoted friendship and trade between them. Yet Jonathan wasn’t naive. He knew they would never be able to replace the sophisticated economy the Karacknids had developed in their territories, at least not for several decades. But it is not your fault, Jonathan thought, though the words came in his father’s voice. They did this to the species they captured. You are not responsible for their evil, only for stopping it. Once the species are free, at least they can make their own way in the galaxy.

And when the Karacknids are pushed back to where they can no longer be a threat, then we will be free to help them, Jonathan told himself.

Before any additional thoughts could distract him, Jonathan was surprised when the access chime to the observation blister rang. “Come in,” he said, partly intrigued as to who had figured out where he was and equally perturbed at being disrupted. Both gave way to joy when he saw who it was.

“Becca!” he said as he jumped up from his desk and moved over to pull her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

Becca gave him a kiss and then a smile. “Is an Empress not allowed on one of her orbital construction yards, or are you just surprised that I was able to find your secret hideout?”

“It wasn’t exactly a secret,” Jonathan said as his cheeks reddened a little. “Though I didn’t think anyone knew about it.”

Becca shook her head. “Really? You don’t think your mother, your chief of staff, or half a dozen other officers wanted to know where you kept disappearing to? Your shuttle leaving the Palace always logs that you’re doing a tour of the fleet. From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out which ship or orbital station you always visited. Vulcan was the only one in every one of your itineraries.”

“Well,” Jonathan said, a little disappointed in himself, “I guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought. Maybe I’ll have to speak to Edward about how to be a little more circumspect when he gets back.”

“When he gets back? Has he been recalled yet?” Becca asked.

“Not yet,” Jonathan replied. “Though Mother keeps pushing for it. I think he’s happy out there. He’s far more use overseeing the Silizzarus than he would be here. I can understand him preferring to be where he is.”

"I'll tell you one thing, General Johnston is happy to be home," Becca said. "I don't think he would have forgiven you if you'd set off for your final confrontation with the Karacknids without him."

"Which is why he’s here," Jonathan said. "That's one marine I don't want to get on the bad side of."

Becca stepped closer to Jonathan and gently pushed him back so he half fell into his seat. She then sat on his lap. "Oh? There’s only one marine you don’t want to be on the bad side of?"

"I said he was one," Jonathan said with a chuckle. "Don't worry, there are one or two others on that list as well."

Becca smiled, then stared into Jonathan's eyes for a couple of seconds without saying anything.

"What is it?" Jonathan asked, sensing something was coming. "You didn’t come all the way here just to tell me you found out my secret," he continued as his mind started to connect the dots.

Becca's smile widened. "No, I didn't, husband of mine. There is something." Becca reached out and took one of Jonathan's hands. Then she guided it to rest on her stomach. "There’s one more little marine I think you’ll soon have to add to your list."

Jonathan sat up so quickly that he nearly pushed Becca off his lap. "What? You’re not teasing me, are you?" He couldn’t help his head from bobbing up and down between Becca's face and her stomach.

Becca slowly shook her head. "No, I’ve been to the doctor at the Palace. He’s confirmed everything. I’m eight weeks pregnant. And it’s a boy."

"A boy?" Jonathan sputtered, unable to regain his composure from the string of surprises.

"Yes, a lovely baby boy who is healthy in every way," Becca said as she gave Jonathan her biggest smile yet. "Congratulations, daddy. You’ve already succeeded in your first task as Emperor—securing an heir. Your mother will be pleased."

"Forget my mother," Jonathan said as he eased Becca off his lap and stood. He felt like he couldn’t sit down any longer—too much nervous energy was running through him. "This is all about us. Our own son! I can’t believe it!" Leaning down, he kissed Becca deeply. Then he picked her up, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He gave her another kiss and then pulled her into a hug. "This is amazing news," he said gently into her ear.

Becca leaned back slightly to look him in the eye. "So you’re not disappointed or upset?"

Jonathan's eyes widened. "How could I be? This is the best news you've ever given me."

Becca nodded but still didn’t look completely convinced. "If I’m eight weeks pregnant, that means I’ll be giving birth in about seven months. There’s no way you’ll be back from fighting the Karacknids by then. It could be several years before you get back to meet your son."

Jonathan hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Suddenly, he realized what Becca was getting at. Immediately, he knew he didn’t want to miss a second of his son’s life—not his birth, nor bringing him home from the hospital, nor all the other moments to come. But I can’t delay the invasion, not even for a day, never mind seven months, Jonathan knew. A lot of his excitement drained away as he realized the implications of Becca’s news. Concern filled Becca’s face as she read Jonathan's thoughts.

Jonathan took a deep breath. It is what it is. We cannot change that, only make the best of it. Mentally, he nodded to himself, then smiled at Becca once more. "This is a blessing. Yes, it will be hard—for you more than for me, I’m sure. I would give anything to be able to be here with you. But you have your parents and my mother. And a thousand other aides to help you. And I’ll have even more incentive to win this war and get back to you as quickly as possible. But... are you sure you can do it?"

Becca frowned at Jonathan. "If I can pass every marine training test, get accepted to become a special forces marine, and then fight countless battles right up to leading the invasion of the Silizzarus homeworld, I think I can manage having a baby."

"Of course," Jonathan said, feeling a little silly. "I just meant, without me?"

Becca laughed. "I will manage, Admiral. And don’t you worry about missing out on changing dirty nappies. Once this war is over, I intend to have a whole lot more babies. You’ll have your fair share of changes to do in the future."

"A whole lot more?" Jonathan asked, his eyebrows rising. They had talked about children, of course, but "a whole lot" was a phrase he hadn’t heard before.

Becca reached between them and rubbed her belly. "I’ve only known for a couple of days, but I couldn’t be happier. Think of how much joy six or seven might bring?"

"Six or seven!" Jonathan blurted.

Becca immediately laughed and winked at him.

Jonathan let out a sigh. "Okay, you got me."

"Well, maybe I’m joking a little, but who knows? Didn’t you like having three siblings?"

"Of course," Jonathan replied. "But I didn’t have to raise them."

"Well, we’ll just have to see what the future holds. For now, I’m sure we’ll do fine with just one," Becca said.

Jonathan nodded. "And I promise, I will be back as quickly as I can."

"And if you can’t, you don’t need to worry about it," Becca said. "We will handle things here. I’ve already asked your mum a few pointed questions. I think she was suspicious, but she didn’t ask me directly. I was asking her about when you were born. Your father was gone a lot in the first couple of years of your life while he fought the Karacknids. But it didn’t do you any harm in the end."

"No," Jonathan agreed as he thought back to his earliest memories. He never remembered his father not being there, but of course, he had to have been gone for extended periods. "Whatever he missed in my earliest years, he more than made up for once the war was over."

"And I’m sure you will do exactly the same," Becca said as she placed both her hands on Jonathan’s cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss.

"I will," Jonathan said, speaking both to Becca and his unborn son. And now I have even more to fight for! he thought.

"So," Becca asked coyly as their lips parted, "is now too soon to start talking about names?"

Once again, Jonathan’s mind was overcome with shock as it dawned on him that he would have to pick a name before he left to confront the Karacknids. And that was in only a couple of days!

Before he could say anything though, Becca reached up and placed a finger on his lips. "Don’t worry, I’ve already given it some thought. There’s only one name we could choose. And I won’t be taking no for an answer." To further stop Jonathan from speaking, Becca leaned in and gave him another kiss.

For his part, Jonathan fought to stop a tear from running down his cheek. He knew what name she wanted.

Chapter 3

To go into war, an officer must always know what they are fighting for. Always remind yourself and those who serve under you why they fight.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Imperial Palace, 30th August 2514 AD, (three days later).

"So you’re happy to tell them?" Jonathan asked Becca as they approached the library where they had their secret wedding many months.

"I want you to be there when they all find out," Becca replied. "So yes, it’s now or never, I guess."

"All right," Jonathan said with a smile. From a couple of comments his mother had made over the last few days, he was fairly sure she had strong suspicions, but even so, he still hoped he would be able to surprise her.

When they reached the library, a palace aide automatically opened one of its ornately carved wooden doors, and Jonathan and Becca stepped in to see everyone else was already there. A day ago, Jonathan’s staff officers and senior admirals had announced they were all ready to depart. Today was the day the fleet would be leaving, and so Christine had organized a small get-together for Jonathan and Georgia to say their goodbyes.

As they entered the room, Jonathan and Becca were swept into the conversations already happening. Scott and Andrea were, of course, talking logistics. Johnston and Mark Alvarez were discussing something or other while Johnston’s wife Clare kept an eye on young Samuel as he ran around the library. Christine had her arm around Georgia as they spoke, and Rachel seemed to be staying close to her sister’s other side. Jonathan moved over to shake Mark and Johnston’s hands, while Becca gave Christine a hug. Over the next ten minutes, they moved around the room, chatting with everyone.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Jonathan grabbed his chance. He quickly stepped beside Becca, took her hand, and then loudly cleared his throat. "If you all don’t mind, we have a small announcement to make before we say our goodbyes."

Jonathan couldn’t help grinning as one of his mother’s hands shot up to cover her mouth. At the same time, Georgia and Rachel, still standing close to one another, shared excited looks. "Yes, we’re very pleased to announce that we are expecting a little boy. The birth is still seven months away, but we both wanted to tell you all before I depart with the fleet."

Immediately, the room erupted with congratulations. Mark came over to shake Jonathan’s hand and clap him on the back, while the women flocked around Becca. Try as he might, Jonathan couldn’t get a word in edgewise with the women, nor could he get hold of Becca’s hand again.

"I wouldn’t bother, lad," Johnston said with a laugh. "You’re not going to get between women and baby talk. It’ll be like this from now until the baby is born."

Jonathan glanced at his chronometer. "I do have to leave in less than an hour."

Johnston laughed again. "Then maybe they’ll give you five minutes before you go."

Though his prediction wasn’t entirely accurate, it was at least half an hour before Christine moved away from Becca and came over toward Jonathan. Johnston and Mark both stepped back when she did.

"Well," Christine said as she held out her arms to Jonathan, who accepted her embrace. "Congratulations, my son. I didn’t think it would be happening so soon, and I’m sure it’s hard knowing that you probably won’t be here for the birth. But I couldn’t be happier for you."

"Neither could I," Jonathan said. "And I need to congratulate you too. You’re going to be a grandmother after all."

Christine smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, Jonathan saw something else there. He felt it himself. "Dad would have loved being a grandfather," he said. "He would have loved to step down as Emperor, throw all the responsibility on me, and just be a grandfather."

Christine nodded as she held Jonathan tighter and touched his chest with a finger. "We will tell your little one all about him. James will be with him in here."

"Yes, he will have a lot to live up to if he is going to take on Father’s name," Jonathan said.

"Really?" Christine asked as a tear formed and threatened to run down her cheek.

Jonathan smiled and nodded. "Of course, could there be any other choice?"

Christine smiled despite her tear. "He would have been so pleased."

As Georgia and Rachel joined them, Jonathan let go of his mother with one arm and used it to pull Rachel into a hug. "You two need to stand in for me with Becca. I’m sure I don’t need to ask, but I want to all the same. You’ll be there for her when I can’t?"

"Of course!" Rachel said as she gave Jonathan a slightly stronger-than-necessary punch in the stomach. Her augmented muscles and marine training resulted in an impact Jonathan didn’t want to feel again. "We will be with her every second of the way."

"But not too close," Christine cautioned her youngest daughter. "We’ll be there as much as she wants. But we’re not going to overstep our welcome. She is our Empress, and she will be the little boy’s mother, not us." Christine looked up at Jonathan and nodded. "We’ll be there as much as she wants."

"Then I won’t need to worry about her while I’m gone," Jonathan said.

Georgia laughed. "You’re not getting off that easy. You’ll be fretting about her every waking hour. At least during all the hours you’re not kicking Karacknid butt with me."

"Yes, it will be us who are worrying about you!" Christine agreed. She squeezed Jonathan’s biceps. "You need to be doubly careful now. You have two people waiting for you to come home."

"Not to mention an entire Empire," Rachel added.

"That’s not as important," Georgia said, winking at her sister. "If the two of us don’t make it back, maybe you’ll be the one who has to step up."

Rachel shook her head. "No way, not me. I’m happy being a medic. That’s more than enough responsibility for me."

Both Georgia and Jonathan laughed. "It’s only getting started for you, my dear sister," Jonathan said. "As Father always said, the burden of command only ever grows. You’ll find out soon enough."

Rachel shook her head again but didn’t argue.

"In any case," Christine said, "I expect both of you to do your utmost to be careful and return to us. This family has already lost enough—we do not need to lose any more."

"I will second that," Becca said as she stepped over to join them. Moments later, Johnston, Clare, and Mark also joined the circle as they all gathered together.

"Don’t worry," Johnston said, "I’ll keep an eye on both of them."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Are you going to get in a fighter and be Georgia’s wingman, old man?"

A mock look of hurt passed over Johnston’s face. "Are you saying I couldn’t? Out of the two of us, only one of us has retired."

"Now, now, let’s not start bickering with each other," Becca said, her voice suddenly sounding more authoritative than Jonathan had ever heard before. Both Johnston and Rachel took a half-step back in surprise. Becca stared at everyone with an aloof look for a couple of seconds, then she couldn’t hold it any longer and broke into a smile. "I think your training is paying off," she said to Christine with a wink.

"I’d say so," Johnston said as he shook his head.

"But she is right," Jonathan agreed with his wife. "We need to depart in a handful of minutes. So, let’s say our goodbyes." Moving over to his mother, Jonathan pulled her into one last hug. "We’ll be as careful as we can be," he promised her.

"And I will make sure your wife is well taken care of," Christine said in return.

"And that she’s not overworked," Jonathan added, speaking a little louder and catching Becca’s eyes. "She doesn’t need to be overstressed in her condition."

Becca frowned and looked like she was about to complain, but Christine beat her to it, causing Becca to roll her eyes. "Don’t worry, she’ll be pampered like a true Empress."

Next, Jonathan pulled his younger sister into a hug, and then he gave Mark a warm handshake. He even called Samuel over and ruffled the young boy’s hair. Already, he couldn’t help looking at the boy a little differently as he imagined what his own son might look like by the time he returned from his campaign.

Finally, Jonathan came to his wife. "Your mother is right," Becca said. "You need to be extra careful now. You need to defeat the Karacknids for the Empire and for your son. But you also need to come back for me and for him."

Jonathan pulled Becca into a tight hug. "I’m going to do everything I can to do both. You know I am. But if I don’t come back..."

Becca pushed Jonathan back slightly and looked up at him, shaking her head. "Don’t talk like that."

Jonathan pressed on. "If I don’t come back, I know our son will be in good hands. And I promise you this: whatever happens to me, he will grow up in a galaxy safe from the Karacknids. I will do whatever it takes to win that for him."

Though Becca looked like she wanted to protest, she simply nodded as a single tear formed and ran down her cheek. Jonathan hugged her again. "I love you," he whispered to her.

"And I you," she replied.

Jonathan held his wife for several more seconds, then reluctantly let her go. He shared a look with his mother and Rachel, and then another with Becca. Then he nodded to all three. "Time to go." He caught Georgia and Johnston’s eyes. "You two ready?"

"As ready as we’re ever going to be," Johnston said for both of them.

Jonathan took Becca’s hand. "Then let’s be on our way."

Without saying another word, Jonathan led the group out of the library and through the Palace. All of the Palace staff lined the corridors and saluted as they passed. When they got to the shuttle landing pads, two shuttles sat waiting for them. Jonathan gave Becca one last hug and kiss, then squeezed her hand and let it go. They had said all they needed to. Neither wanted to prolong the goodbyes any more than they had. Of course, Jonathan wanted to grab his wife and never let her go, but he had to leave, so he needed to do it quickly.

"I’ll see you up there," Johnston said after hugging Clare. He then headed toward his shuttle to meet up with his troopship.

"Indeed you will," Jonathan replied. He then turned to his sister as they both made for the rear access ramp of one of Imperial’s shuttles. "Are you ready for this?" he asked the Wing Commander of his fleet.

"You bet I am," Georgia replied, confidence oozing from her. "We’re going to end the Karacknid Empire. This is what we were born for!"

Jonathan smiled at his sister’s attitude, yet deep down he knew he didn’t quite share her feelings. What are the odds we both make it back? he couldn’t help asking himself. Whatever they were, he knew they weren’t great. When he got to the top of the shuttle’s ramp, Jonathan couldn’t help pausing and turning for one last look at his wife. He raised a hand and gave her one final smile. Whatever the odds, I’m going to beat them! he promised himself.

*

As his shuttle approached Imperial, Jonathan couldn’t help gawking at his flagship. The warship was a monster. There were no other words to describe it. Two giant phase cannons dominated her topside. Neither was as powerful or had the range of the even larger cannon that ran the length of the dreadnought, but they still packed a massive punch and, more importantly, could track moving targets. Twenty-eight smaller but no less impressive twin laser and plasma cannons completed the ship's anti-ship energy weapons. Along her two sides, one hundred and ninety missile tubes were ready to hurl the massive missiles Imperial carried toward anyone who would threaten her. Interspersed between all of the larger weapon systems, hundreds of shield emitters, AM missile launchers, and many other defensive systems dotted the hull. It was clear that the ship was built for one thing and one thing only: destroying Karacknid dreadnoughts.

"She doesn’t have the beauty of the ships Dad grew up commanding," Georgia commented. "But she’ll inspire far greater terror. I’m glad I’m not flying my fighter against that!"

"I know what you mean," Jonathan replied. In fact, Georgia had flown several sorties against Imperial and her sister ships in simulated battles. In every one, even she had been shot down. The combination of Kulrean sensors tracking incoming fighters, Kulrean reactors powering all of Imperial's point defenses, and the latest human targeting software meant the dreadnought was all but impervious to enemy fighters. It would take a massive number of enemy craft to overwhelm her defenses.

Jonathan’s chance to enjoy his flagship was all too brief as the shuttle quickly swooped in underneath Imperial and then rose up to enter her main hangar. "Here we go," Jonathan said as one of his least favorite moments approached. The second the shuttle’s rear access ramp began to open, an orchestra struck up and began to play the Imperial anthem.

Georgia grinned at Jonathan and gestured for him to go first. "After you, Emperor."

As soon as Jonathan’s foot touched the shuttle’s ramp, over a thousand officers and crewmen in dress uniforms snapped to attention. Matthis, Imperial’s Captain, had organized a full military welcome for Jonathan. Playing his part, Jonathan stopped, took a few seconds to survey the gathering, then slowly saluted them all. Next, he walked down the shuttle’s access ramp and began to greet his senior officers with a handshake.

"Captain, a fine turnout, though I expected nothing less," he said to Matthis.

"Admiral," Matthis said as he firmly gripped Jonathan’s hand. "An honor to have you officially on board. All our supplies are stowed, all personnel are on board, and we’re ready to depart at your command."

"Excellent," Jonathan replied loudly enough for most of the officers and crew in the hangar to hear. "You do your ship proud. Imperial is the fiercest-looking ship I have ever served on. I’m sure your crew will prove to be her equal."

"By the time we reach Karacknid space, they will be, Admiral. You have my word," Matthis said just as loudly. He then gave Jonathan a nod of thanks.

With Imperial having just been commissioned two months ago, most of her crew were still settling into their roles. Matthis had already told Jonathan there would be a lot of work required to get them up to the same standards Sparrowhawk, Jonathan’s previous flagship, had reached. Jonathan intended their exchange to give a little extra impetus to the crew to throw themselves into the training Matthis intended to put them through.

Next, Jonathan smiled warmly as he shook his Chief of Staff’s hand. Iso had been with him since his promotion to the rank of Commodore. In many ways, she deserved a ship of her own by now, yet with such a massive fleet for Jonathan to oversee, they had both agreed she would stay with him.

"The entire fleet is as ready as Imperial," Iso informed him. "I have your senior Admirals waiting to speak with you on the bridge."

"Then we’ll head there momentarily," Jonathan replied. He then shook hands with the other two officers who had followed him from his first squadron. Harte and Rossi were as vital to him as Iso, and he told them so. "I couldn’t be leading such a large fleet without the three of you. You three will be as vital to the success of this mission as I will."

"It’s an honor and a pleasure to serve you, Admiral," Harte said.

"Yes, it is," Rossi added.

"We won’t let you down," Iso promised.

Jonathan chuckled. "I have no fears there."

"If I may," Iso said as she stepped out of the line of officers and gestured toward several that Jonathan didn’t know. Jonathan nodded, and she proceeded to introduce several officers he hadn’t met before who were to serve either on Jonathan's staff or on Imperial’s bridge. When they were done, Iso brought Jonathan back to Matthis.

"Shall we go to the bridge, Admiral?" Jonathan’s Flag Captain asked.

"By all means," Jonathan said eagerly. It was time to get his fleet underway. Now that everything was ready, there was no time to waste.

Chapter 4

No one can win a war by themselves. Even a cursory study of the Empire’s many wars would tell a student of history this. So, look around you, cadet, for those who train with you now will be the brothers and sisters who make your victories possible.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial

The moment Jonathan stepped onto Imperial's bridge, every officer who hadn’t been in the hangar to greet him jumped to their feet and snapped him a salute. "At ease," Jonathan said after returning it. He then made his way over to his command chair in the center of the bridge. Matthis sat to his right, and in front of him and around him sat his officers. Iso sat to his left with Jonathan’s staff officers around her. Georgia moved to her seat, which was on a tier slightly below Jonathan’s command chair. Her three flight officers were already at their stations.

"Everyone comfortable?" Jonathan asked after giving the officers who had come from the hangar with him a few moments to get situated.

"Aye, Admiral," Matthis responded.

"Rossi, do you have my senior commanders?" Jonathan asked next.

"Yes, sir," Rossi said instantly.

"Then let’s speak with them."

With the touch of a button, Rossi activated the bridge’s main holo display, bringing up a live image of Jonathan’s five most experienced commanders. Admirals Scott and Shraw, Vice Admiral Reverus, and Generals Johnston and Tasata-su all saluted or bowed to Jonathan. "Commanders, I trust your fleets are all ready to break orbit?"

"They are," Scott said, speaking for all the others.

"And we are ready for war," Tasata-su said. "Eager, in fact. We have spent more than enough time in orbit for my liking."

Jonathan smiled. Though Tasata-su was an astute commander—especially after having spent six months fighting simulated battles with Jonathan’s best fleet commanders—he was still a Karacknid at heart. This meant that charging straight at one’s enemy would always be his preferred tactic.

"Very good," Jonathan said as he nodded to Tasata-su, then he met each of his other officers' eyes. "No final reservations?"

Everyone shook their heads or gave their species' equivalent of a negative gesture. "We are as ready as we’re ever going to be," Reverus said. "Our flag officers have been working together for at least four months. We are ready, Admiral."

Jonathan gave the Eaglaton a small smile. His friend knew that this was one of his biggest concerns. In addition to the commanders in front of him, there were fifty-seven other commanders in the fleet of Rear Admiral rank and above, and another one hundred Commodores. Ensuring everyone knew each other well and was able to fight side by side was something Jonathan had made a priority from the moment he had decided the allies needed to launch an invasion of Karacknid space. Even so, he still worried about it.

"There is one thing I wish to say to you five before we depart," he said, pushing his concerns aside. "I know each of you is far more experienced than I am." Jonathan quickly raised a hand as Tasata-su opened his mouth, no doubt to defend the honor of his Imperator. "It’s true," Jonathan insisted. "Which is why, while I may be leading this fleet, each of your leadership skills and experience will be as valuable as mine. So, don’t ever hesitate to bring me your opinion or question my decisions." Jonathan looked around at each of his commanders. "That’s an order. If you think I’m doing something unwise, you need to call me out on it immediately... though in private, of course."

"Of course, Admiral," Reverus said as he gave Jonathan a regal bow. "We are in this together—our fleets and our species."

"We will advise you just as well as we did your father," Scott said, and Shraw nodded vigorously. "He had it no other way, either."

"Thank you," Jonathan said, giving Scott a relieved nod.

"And don’t worry, brother, we will make sure to keep it private," Georgia chimed in from just in front of Jonathan. "It wouldn’t do to have the whole fleet seeing their Emperor being chewed out by his betters... In fact, I think I’ll open up a private chat message right now. I’m sure I can think of a few things to get the conversation rolling."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, but Georgia’s words brought a small smile to Scott’s and Johnston’s faces, easing the little bit of tension Jonathan’s speech had created. At least for everyone but Tasata-su, who was frowning in a very Karacknid way. Jonathan made a mental note to speak with Georgia. There was every chance she would have to lead elements of the free Karacknid fleet into battle. It wouldn’t do if the senior Karacknid commanders thought she was more of a nuisance than a competent fighter.

"Very well," he said, bringing their short meeting to a close. "I just wanted to check in with you all before I give the final order to break orbit. I intend to speak to the fleet, and then we will proceed."

"We will be ready," Scott said, speaking for all the others as Jonathan’s designated second in command.

"You will hear from us momentarily, then," Jonathan said. He gave his commanders one final nod and then gestured to Rossi to end the COM channel.

Jonathan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as he cleared his mind. He closed his eyes for a handful of seconds, recalling the points he had noted that he wished to address. Then he opened his eyes again and nodded to Rossi. "I’m ready."

"Channel open to the whole fleet," Rossi informed him a couple of seconds later.

"Commanders and crew of the Allied fleet," Jonathan began. "Momentarily, I will be giving the command for our ships to break orbit. But before I do, I wish to say a few words to you—words that I hope will prepare us for what lies ahead.

"What we are about to undertake has not been attempted in the history of the Karacknid Empire’s expansion. For over two thousand years, they have constantly expanded their borders as they conquered, killed, or enslaved other sentient species. This is unacceptable. And we go now to bring it to an end.

"However, in committing so many atrocities, the Empire’s leaders also lost the essence of what it means to be a Karacknid. Instead of seeking honor in all that they do for the sake of their families, their culture was twisted into one that focused solely on serving their Imperator at the expense of the clans and each individual Karacknid.

"We are therefore fighting for two goals: we fight to bring an end to the Karacknid Empire’s reign of tyranny and to bring freedom to those Karacknids who will willingly receive it.

"But make no mistake, the survival of all our species still hangs in the balance. If the Karacknid Empire can unify behind a new Imperator, then once again, all our worlds will come under threat. My father gave his life to save Earth and all our worlds from the last Imperator. I intend to ensure that never again can the full strength of the Karacknid Empire be used against any of us.

"To that end, we are about to embark upon the greatest feat any of our civilizations has ever attempted. We will invade the Karacknid Empire and bring the war to them. We will liberate as many sentient species enslaved by the Karacknids as we can, and we will crush or turn to our side as many Karacknid clans as possible.

"You all know we do not have the numbers to conquer the entire Karacknid Empire. To even attempt it, we would need ten times the number of ships. Yet we have this one chance to decisively weaken them. While they fight amongst themselves, we can begin to pick them off, one by one.

"However, the success of this campaign and the future peace our worlds have a chance to enjoy depends on each one of you. Not one of you is too junior or holds a role that is not critical. For this fleet to win the victories we need to win, each and every one of us must do our utmost. Together, we are one fleet—one single weapon—and I intend to thrust it deep into the heart of our enemy’s territory.

"So, let us train and prepare as hard as we can on our journey north. And let us not forget why we fight: to avenge all those whom we have already lost, and to bring peace to all those whom we love.

“Let us be unified in this; we fight not to conquer and enslave, but to preserve the freedom we all enjoy and to bring freedom to those from whom it has been taken. Remember this, do not forget, and let it be an anchor for our courage when the fighting is at its hottest. I know you will not let me, your commanders, or your loved ones down. For my part, I will do whatever it takes to ensure that we come out victorious, and that as many of us as possible return home.

"Let us go then; and let us bring fire and death to our enemies – and let us see how they like it for a change!"

Jonathan’s final words brought nods, tightened fists, and grunts of approval from all around Imperial’s bridge. Jonathan nodded as well. "It is an honor to lead you all. May we live up to the trust our families have put in us." With a gesture, Jonathan signaled for Rossi to cut the COM channel. Then he turned to Iso. "Commander, take the fleet out of orbit. Set course for the New Shanghai shift passage."

Iso smiled. "With pleasure, Admiral."

"Rossi, send a message to Scalatar via the FTL COM array. Inform Admiral Vickers that we have departed. Instruct him to proceed as soon as possible."

"Aye, Admiral," Rossi responded.

Vickers commanded the Allied fleet at Scalatar that would thrust northwest into the Karacknid Empire. While it wasn’t essential that their attacks land at the exact same time, Vickers had been working to the same timetable as Jonathan and would likely be able to depart within the week.

Moments later, Jonathan began to feel small tremors running up his command chair. He immediately fixed his attention on Imperial’s main holo display as her engines began to boost her up out of Earth’s orbit. Forty-four thousand warships made up a massive battlefleet. It was by far the largest concentration of warships the Allies had ever gathered. The numbers made even the simple task of breaking orbit a complicated one. In flotillas, squadrons, and fleets, the Allied ships began to lift themselves up out of orbit in a staggered formation. True to Scott and Rossi’s words, the maneuver was carried out to perfection.

As each group of ships completed their turns and pointed their noses toward the New Shanghai shift passage, Jonathan studied them all. Though there were over fifty different ship designs represented within the fleet, Jonathan knew them all intimately by now. He paid particular attention to Imperial's sister ships as he watched them turn together. They were certainly a sight to behold. Even more impressive, though, were the Kulrean worldships and the Kalassai cityships. They out massed Imperial by a factor of forty and fifty-five, respectively. Thanks to the new homeworld Jonathan’s father had helped find for the Kalassai over twenty years ago, the Kalassai were once again able to build new warships and orbital habitats for their populace. As a result, they had committed almost all of their remaining cityships to the attack. Likewise, every Kulrean worldship ever built by the Kulreans was either in Jonathan’s or Vickers’ fleet.

Several other ships caught Jonathan’s eye as well. They were in a small formation by themselves—Scott’s pet projects. Interdictor ships, barrage ships, and others kept themselves right in the middle of the Allied fleet to protect them from any Karacknid scouts that might try to spy on the fleet as it headed north. If possible, Jonathan wanted Scott's latest designs to come as a complete surprise to their enemies.

Once he was satisfied the fleet had completed its maneuver, Jonathan sought out another warship. He found her after only a few seconds. Though there were well over a hundred identical ships to her in the fleet, Jonathan knew he would recognize Sparrowhawk anywhere. His former flagship had just left the repair yards where she had spent the last six months, only three weeks ago. Now she had a completely rebuilt nose section as well as some internal and external upgrades. Jonathan felt a small pang of longing as he looked at her. It didn’t feel right not to have the battleship as his flagship. Yet Becca, his mother, and pretty much every one of Jonathan’s senior commanders had insisted. Apart from the Kulrean worldships, Imperial was by far the safest ship in the fleet to be on. As Emperor, Jonathan had a duty to his people to take every safety precaution—or at least that was how his mother had put it.

After letting his gaze linger on Sparrowhawk, Jonathan watched as the second, almost as large, fleet of ships began to break orbit. This was the battlefleet’s supply train and troop contingent. Twenty thousand freighters, stuffed with everything the fleet could possibly need, would follow Imperial. Fifteen hundred troop ships also carried every marine, Karacknid warrior, and Gramrian and Eaglaton soldier that the Allies had. While some of the Allied species were not adept at ground combat, those that were had joined the fleet. Arrayed around the supply train were an additional six thousand warships acting as their escort.

As the massive wave of ships ascended out of Earth’s orbit and began to leave Humanity’s homeworld behind, one final group of ships caught Jonathan’s eye. There were just a handful of them at the moment, but he knew they would soon grow into their own sizable fleet. Currently, forty freighters were loading up with supplies. Within a week, they would be joined by a thousand more, and two weeks later, two thousand freighters would depart from Earth to follow Imperial. Thereafter, every month, another similar fleet of supplies and reinforcements would depart to join the invasion of the Karacknid Empire.

The supply fleets would be joined by at least five hundred warships each month, coming fresh out of Allied construction yards. In addition, thousands of fighters and their pilots would be sent forward. If previous campaigns were anything to go by, the Allies were going to suffer massive casualty rates among their fighters. As cold as it was, they were the easiest assets to sacrifice in an emergency. Equally as cold, Jonathan had arranged for a steady stream of reinforcements to be ferried forward to the frontlines. Fighters and their pilots would be sent as quickly as the fighters could be built and the pilots graduated from flight school.

But that, at least, is a group of ships someone else has to worry about, Jonathan told himself. He knew he couldn’t handle every single part of his battlefleet and its supply train, yet he had to remind himself of that every once in a while. Andrea Clements was overseeing the gathering and dispatching of supply squadrons and reinforcements. He just had to make sure he was sending her regular updates so she knew which types of supplies and reinforcements she should prioritize.

Turning away from Earth, Jonathan looked across the Sol system to the large shift gate that marked the system’s northern shift passage. The shift gate had reactors fifty times more powerful than Imperial's and used them to tear open rifts into shift space large enough for many of Jonathan’s ships to pass through. The gate would boost Jonathan’s fleet to far higher shift space speeds than they could achieve on their own. Combined with the artificial shift passage that had been built to New Shanghai, Jonathan’s fleet would be in the system his father had sacrificed himself in within twenty-four hours. Thereafter, they would take a series of shift gates and artificial shift passages out to beyond Zeta Fort.

After that, mobile shift gates that were already in the process of being set up would take them more than two-thirds of the way across The Wilds. In the space of just over a month, Jonathan intended to rapidly advance his fleet up to the Karacknid border before his enemies knew they were coming. And then we will be upon you, he thought toward the clan he and his senior commanders had singled out as their first target.

Chapter 5

Rarely has the Empire enjoyed more than half a century of peace. From a civilian point of view, those periods have been our most prosperous. However, any military that does not get to flex its muscles atrophies, and it has been at the end of such periods of peace that the Empire has come closest to falling.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Olm FOB, 3rd October 2514 AD, (thirty-three days later).

"Please, Admiral, bring us all up to date," Jonathan requested as he nodded to the commander he had dispatched to the northern Wilds four months ago.

Rear Admiral Joseph O’Kane nodded back to Jonathan and then turned to address all of Jonathan’s senior commanders who had gathered on Imperial for the briefing. "My squadron and I have been monitoring every border system owned by the Gal-tak clan as closely as we can," O’Kane said as his hands flew over the controls for the briefing room’s holo display. A map of the Wilds and the entirety of the Gal-tak’s territory appeared. Four systems began to flash. "They have four fleets protecting their southern border based in each of these systems. From them, they send out regular scouting squadrons into The Wilds and along their other border systems.

"The largest fleet numbers four thousand ships, and the smallest two thousand eight hundred. However, if all their outlying squadrons are counted, each fleet would increase in strength by about a thousand ships. Interestingly, though, we have pretty strong evidence that the Gal-tak clan is pulling ships back from the front line. Over the last two months, a total of a thousand ships have moved north and haven’t been seen since."

"How far north have you tracked them?" Reverus asked. "Could it be a ploy to lure us into underestimating them?"

"In most cases, we’ve managed to confirm they headed north through at least a couple of systems, but that’s it," O’Kane said. "It is much harder for our stealth frigates and cruisers to range any deeper into their space than it was at the outset of the war."

"That is not as conclusive as I would like," Reverus said. "We have to assume those ships may still be nearby."

"But it is the best intel we are going to get," Jonathan said, feeling he had to defend O’Kane a little. If anyone knew how to get stealth ships behind enemy lines, it was him. Originally, O’Kane had begun the war as a commander of a stealth cruiser. Thanks to his exploits, Jonathan and his father had quickly promoted O’Kane. He had been the obvious choice to command the initial squadron tasked with watching Jonathan’s first targets.

"We cannot assume anything," Tasata-su said. "But I believe there is a good chance those ships have been pulled back to the Gal-tak’s main systems." Tasata-su tapped on his control panel, and five systems in the center of the northern section of the Gal-tak clan’s territory began to flash. "The Gal-tak are no friends of the Tars’tazan clan. Though the Tars’tazan lost a lot of infrastructure to Scott’s raid at the outset of this war, they likely still have ten thousand warships or more. The Gal-tak have to fear that they could be attacked from the east. They will want to put up a good show of strength around their most important worlds to deter the Tars’tazan from trying anything."

"If that is the case, then we have an opportunity to catch the enemy by surprise while they are still weak," Shraw said eagerly. "We could split our fleet and hit all four enemy fleets at once and crush them with overwhelming numbers. Then the rest of the Gal-tak clan territory will be ours for the taking."

"We are still talking about three well-defended fleet bases," Scott cautioned.

"And the fleet base Admiral Scott and Wing Commander Somerville hit eight months ago is quickly being rebuilt," O’Kane added. "Though with the number of ships you have brought, Admiral, I’m sure it could be accomplished," O’Kane finished as he nodded toward Jonathan.

Jonathan considered the proposition. As far as he knew, the Gal-tak clan didn’t know his fleet was here yet, nor how many ships he had gathered to hit them with. Olm FOB had been built by his father, but over the last six months Jonathan had ordered it restocked and enlarged. Within a day his fleet would have refreshed all the fuel and supplies they used crossing The Wilds and would be ready to quickly advance and attack as Shraw suggested.

Striking at all four border fleets was very appealing. It would mean he wouldn’t have to advance deeper into Gal-tak territory with enemy fleets in his rear. Nevertheless, he still felt uneasy. "I’m not sure," Jonathan said as he shook his head. "Dividing our forces and committing to four battles is risky. Just one defeat would force us to halt our advance, and then the Gal-tak would be warned of our presence on their border."

"How many ships do we believe the enemy has defending their main colonies?" Georgia asked.

"At least another nine thousand," O’Kane said. "A Kalassai scout ship passed through them three weeks ago."

"And in the outlying systems?" Georgia added. "Presumably, as soon as the enemy realizes we intend to invade their territory, they will pull all their ships back to concentrate them."

"Perhaps another four or five thousand," O’Kane answered, "but those numbers are less certain."

"So if they concentrate everything, they could have as many as twenty-six thousand ships. That is a lot," Georgia said as she caught Jonathan’s eye. "We need to defeat them piece by piece, or we’ll take so many losses fighting their combined fleet that our invasion will not be able to push past the Gal-tak’s territory."

Jonathan nodded. He was well aware of that. Still, he was reluctant.

"What if we could force some of the border fleets to come to us?" Scott said. "Look, if we hit these two fleets and take them out, then we would open a path to make a thrust north. As soon as the commanders of the other two border fleets learn of us, they would rush north themselves to try and link up with their northern fleet. We could then turn and defeat them one by one." As she spoke, Scott waved a hand back and forth at the holo display, drawing arrows onto the display to show what she meant. "The key would be to initially push north as fast as we could. The more desperate the other two border fleets are to get ahead of us, the better our chances of catching them by surprise."

"Now that is a sneaky plan," Shraw said, his forked tongue flicking in and out of his mouth, showing his excitement. "It’s like what we did to the Das’tana clan when we raided their worlds."

"Exactly," Scott said. "We can defeat them in detail without having to split our forces up too much."

"I like it," Jonathan responded as he found himself leaning forward in his chair, staring at the holo display and imagining how Scott’s idea could play out. He then turned to Reverus and Tasata-su. "Commanders?"

"We have the numbers to make it work," Reverus said. "For as long as we have the numerical advantage, I say we use it as ruthlessly as we can."

"The Gal-tak have been a competitor of my clan for hundreds of years," Tasata-su said when Jonathan turned to him. "Now, as long as they oppose you, they are my enemies as well. This is a good plan to crush them."

"Then it is settled. We will form two attacking fleets to strike at these two fleet bases," Jonathan said as he gestured to the two systems Scott had already selected. "Then we will push north and see just how desperate the other two fleets are to get around us. Scott, you will lead one of the attacks, and I will take the second with Tasata-su. O’Kane, I want your squadron ready to push north as soon as I have taken out the fleet here," Jonathan said as he began to split his forces while also drawing a line north from one of the two border fleets Scott wanted to hit. "Reverus, you will command the reserves and push north right behind O’Kane while Scott and I reform our forces."

Jonathan then turned to Johnston. "General, I will leave you here with the supply fleet. The freighters can complete restocking, and then you can follow right behind. You should catch up with us as we cross the Gal-tak clan’s border."

With a plan chosen, Jonathan could already feel the excitement and nervous tension beginning to build within him. "Let’s go over the finer points of Scott’s plan, and then we can start sending out orders to our fleets. I want to start hitting them as soon as we can."

*

Half an hour later, Jonathan shook the hands of his senior commanders as they left to return to their ships. "All right," he said to Iso, after Scott and Georgia had left and he was alone with his Chief of Staff and Tasata-su. "Show them in."

Iso walked over to a different side door and opened it, then gestured to Harte, who was waiting with three Karacknid warriors. "Please, Imperator Somerville will see you now," Harte said as he bowed to the three guests.

Jonathan took a deep breath as the three leaders walked in. Since Tanaka-lan’s death, more and more Free Karacknids had been streaming south. O’Kane’s squadron had been intercepting them and directing them to the Zeta Fort system, where government officials and aid workers were set up to receive them. However, Jonathan had decided to adopt a slightly different approach now that he was on the border himself.

"Warriors, this is Imperator Somerville," Tasata-su said sternly. "Show him your respect."

Immediately, the warriors came to a halt in front of Jonathan. Each fell to one knee and bowed deeply to him. Jonathan waited for the amount of time Tasata-su had recommended, then he spoke. "You may rise. Tell me who you are and what forces you command."

"I am Commodore Hin’dra of the Dar’kanan clan," the first to stand and largest warrior said. "My people and I have come to join the Free Karacknid movement. The deaths of Taranaki and Tanaka-lan are proof that we must find another path for our civilization. I have with me sixty thousand warriors and their families in two hundred warships and many freighters."

Jonathan listened in silence as the other two spoke as well. Together, the three leaders commanded five hundred warships. That was why they were here. The Free Karacknids wished to see a new Karacknid civilization. That was what Jonathan and Tasata-su wanted as well. But to accomplish that, they were going to need all the ships they could get.

When the warriors were finished, Tasata-su spoke on Jonathan’s behalf. "You have come south seeking shelter among the Humans, have you not?" All three warriors nodded. "Then are you prepared to swear your allegiance to Imperator Somerville?" Again, all three nodded. Tasata-su turned to Jonathan. "Imperator, I know the reputation of these three commanders. They are each honorable and trustworthy."

"Thank you, General," Jonathan said. "I will accept your oaths. But before you give them, you must understand what I will ask of you. Your civilians, along with a small escort of warships, will be allowed to continue south where our forces will meet them, and your people can resettle on the worlds I have given to your brethren. However, the bulk of your warships will remain with me. I plan to take my war with your species’ Empire into your clans’ space. We are going to defeat and liberate as many clans as we can. Perhaps even your homeworlds will be attacked, and you may have to fight your own clansmen. Are you prepared to do this?"

Each of the warriors looked to Tasata-su, who nodded to them. They then looked back to Jonathan and bowed to him. "Then swear your oaths," Jonathan said.

Again, the three leaders fell to one knee. Then, one after the other, they vowed to submit to Jonathan, obey his every order, and fight for his honor. "And I vow to protect you and your people,” Jonathan said in response. “And to seek the best for each of your families, and to never ask you to dishonor yourselves. Arise and join my ranks as esteemed warriors."

When each warrior was back on his feet, Jonathan gave them a small bow and then gestured to Tasata-su. “I am placing you and your warships under General Tasata-su’s command. He will give you further instructions.”

“Thank you, Imperator,” the largest warrior said, speaking for the three of them. “We will repay you for the kindness you have shown our families.”

Jonathan nodded to them and then watched as Tasata-su led them out of the conference room. “Now,” he said as he turned to Iso, “it is time to take this war to our enemy.

Chapter 6

The Karacknid Clan system was at the same time their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. The decentralized control of the day-to-day running of so many thousands of worlds allowed the Empire to keep expanding indefinitely. However, when the Clans’ thirst for conquest turned inward, it often spelled disaster for their Empire.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Constitution, Gal-tak border fleet base system, 14th October 2514 AD, (eleven days later).

Patiently, Admiral Scott stared at her flagship’s main holo display as she studied the Karacknid forces within the system. The system was the same one she had attacked almost nine months ago. Then, she had destroyed every Karacknid orbital station that had made up their fleet base. Now, however, the system looked different than how she had left it. Being right on the Gal-tak’s southern border and sitting along a key route that led into the heart of the Gal-tak clan’s territory, the Karacknid clan could not simply leave it uninhabited.

On the display, hundreds of freighters and smaller construction ships swarmed around the system’s fifth planet as they sought to rebuild the fleet base Scott had destroyed. Three thousand warships sat in orbit, protecting them. A further eight hundred were spread out across the system, patrolling its shift passages and the approaches to the planet. Interestingly, more than a third of the Karacknid forces were arrayed around its northeastern shift passage. That had been the one Scott had attacked from before, after using a hidden shift passage to pass through the Karacknid Empire’s southern border and loop around to strike the system from the rear. This time, Scott was coming through the front door.

However, that didn’t mean she didn’t plan to use the shift passage that had worked to her advantage so well before. That was why she and her fleet waited. For nine hours, Scott kept her fleet hidden well outside the system. Given how many Karacknids were patrolling the system’s northeastern shift passage, she understood the delay. To distract her fleet, she ran them through a number of simulated battles roughly based on how she envisioned the coming fight playing out. Then, eventually, something started to happen.

The first signs that Scott’s plan was beginning came when a handful of ships near the system’s northeastern shift passage suddenly veered away from it. Several alarms on Constitution’s bridge went off as the unusual movement patterns were detected. Everyone’s eyes snapped to the holo display. Mere seconds later, hundreds of fresh contacts appeared. The high acceleration rates meant it could only be one thing: fighters.

It wasn’t hard for Scott to picture what was happening at the far side of the system. With Georgia in command of the diversionary attack, the fighters would be ruthless in their strikes against the Karacknid patrol ships. Sure enough, in the space of five minutes, over a hundred Karacknid frigates and destroyers were taken out. Then, once the area around the end of the shift passage was cleared, hundreds of larger contacts began to appear. A week ago, Scott had dispatched Georgia with a small force of stealthy warships and carriers to repeat the maneuver her fleet had carried out nine months ago. Now, to the Karacknids, it looked like a similar attack was coming against them. However, most of the ships Constitution’s sensors were detecting were, in fact, modified recon drones.

Understandably, the main Karacknid fleet responded right away to the perceived threat. They couldn’t risk waiting to fully confirm their enemy’s numbers. Most of their warships broke orbit from around the fleet base and began to move into blocking positions to prevent any Allied warships and freighters from striking the fleet base. As Georgia’s fighters regrouped and struck out at more Karacknid patrol ships, Scott continued to wait patiently. For thirty-five minutes, she let the main Karacknid fleet slowly cruise away from the fleet base as it moved to intercept the diversionary forces.

“It is time,” she finally ordered. “Take us in.”

With all of her fleet commanders fully briefed, Scott didn’t need to give any further orders than that. With the touch of a button, Constitution’s navigation officer ordered the dreadnought and the rest of the Allied ships in formation with her to carry out a micro jump. A second later, the three thousand Allied ships jumped out of shift space at the edge of the system’s mass shadow, right on top of the Karacknid patrols watching the shift passage. Several firefights broke out as the squadrons assigned to each Karacknid patrol ship hunted them down and destroyed them. Even as the Gal-tak ships fought and died, the bulk of Scott’s main fleet charged into the system, heading straight for the fleet base.

The Gal-tak fleet, realizing they had been duped, immediately began to reverse their course. However, it was too late for them as four thousand Allied fighters launched from their carriers, formed up, and then raced ahead of the warships. On Constitution’s holo display, the projected course of the fighters showed they would reach the fleet base before the Gal-tak warships could return. The Karacknids, therefore, did the only thing they could. They launched their own fighters from their fleet and the completed orbital hangars and flung them at the Allied fighters.

Outnumbered two to one, the Karacknid fighters couldn’t hope to stop Scott’s attack, but they could thin the Allied fighters’ strength and give the orbital stations a chance. However, Scott’s fighters had very different orders. She had no interest in taking out the Karacknid fleet base. What she wanted was to take the pesky Karacknid fighters out of the battle, for if they got close to her ships, their particle cannons could wreak havoc on her battleships and dreadnoughts.

Following their orders, Scott’s fighters slowed as they approached the Karacknids. First, both sides exchanged missiles, then they flashed through each other’s formations, blasting away with their energy weapons. Then they turned and engaged one another again, this time at such low velocities that a general dogfight broke out. The Karacknids scored a reasonable number of kills, but the Allied numbers and training were too much for them. As soon as the battle clearly started to turn against them, the remaining Karacknid fighters tried to flee back to their hangars, but only less than two hundred made it. For the price of six hundred of her own fighters, Scott had taken out the biggest risk to her fleet.

Only six hundred, Scott repeated to herself as she gritted her teeth. Given how many fighters the Allied battlefleet had, it was a small percentage, especially when thousands of fighters and pilots were scheduled to join the battlefleet every month. Yet it is still six hundred lives lost. You can’t forget that! she chastised herself.

That was all the time Scott had for self-reflection, however. Though her fighters were now returning to their carriers, Scott’s fleet was still charging toward the Karacknid fleet base. The Gal-tak fleet was also approaching the base. Given that their strengths were roughly equal, if she still wanted to hit the orbital base, the fight was going to be a tough and bloody one.

"Start slowing us," Scott said to her Chief of Staff. "Let’s not overcommit."

For the next hour, both fleets maneuvered against each other as it looked like she was trying to get around the Gal-tak fleet and hit the orbital base. However, the Karacknid commander matched her maneuver for maneuver until Scott found herself under the Karacknids’ guns. Both fleets fired a single salvo at one another before Scott could pull her ships back. Eight thousand missiles passed by each other as they crossed the open space between the two combatants. Then point defense batteries reached out to blast away at the waves of death.

Neither side was able to shoot down everything the enemy fired at them. All-too-familiar blue hues from antimatter detonations erupted amidst both fleets. At least seventy Gal-tak warships were crippled or destroyed. Scott’s fleet appeared to suffer far more losses—or at least, that was how it looked. Over two hundred ships dropped off the Gal-tak ships’ sensors as they were turned into large balls of debris. Less than a fifth actually represented real losses; the rest were all freighters or pleasure yachts that had been brought north with the fleet. Every one of them was blown apart by explosives Scott had planted on them over a day ago.

The losses were a ruse designed to allow Scott to give her next order. "Put the fleet in full reverse, set course for the southern shift passage we entered the system from. Let’s make it look like we’re trying to get out of here!"

Predictably, the Gal-tak forces gave chase. Understandably, their commander wanted to give Scott’s fleet an even bigger bloody nose to discourage the Allied forces from trying another attack. Having turned first and having been on a course with a divergent angle to the Gal-tak fleet, Scott was initially able to stay ahead of them. Yet the Gal-tak fleet had the momentum advantage and slowly started to gain on them. The holo display showed Scott’s fleet would be brought into missile range an hour before they reached the safety of the system’s mass shadow.

Even so, Scott was not concerned in the slightest. The entire point of her series of ruses had been to lure the Karacknid fleet into the exact spot where she could use her superior numbers to their best advantage. The problem she had needed to overcome was simple: if the Karacknids had known her real strength, they would have abandoned the system and fled north immediately. Now, that option was no longer open to them.

Twenty minutes before the defenders brought Scott’s three thousand warships into range, Scott turned to her Chief of Staff. “You can give the order.”

Seconds later, every sensor console on Constitution’s bridge chirped as thousands of new contacts began to be detected. On either flank of Scott’s fleet, two new fleets of over three thousand ships each appeared. Instead of fleeing from the Gal-taks, they were charging straight into missile range. Seconds later, Constitution and the ships around her also turned to give battle.

With no escape due to their momentum, being outnumbered more than three to one, and with no fighter support, the battle was short, savage, and bloody for the Gal-tak warships.

Fourteen thousand Allied fighters charged in with the first Allied missile salvo, which itself contained one hundred and forty thousand missiles. A third of the Gal-tak warships were taken out of the fight in the first exchange of fire. After that, it took just five more salvos to finish off the Gal-tak fleet.

Minutes before her last missile salvo struck home, Scott sat forward in her command chair as a host of new contacts appeared near the rear of the Karacknid fleet. For a second, she thought the Karacknids had more fighters that they had kept hidden. Yet quickly, Constitution’s sensors identified them as Allied fighters. Moments later, information appeared about the contacts identifying them as fighters under Wing Commander Somerville’s command.

Georgia, of course. I should have known! Scott thought. Her friend would never miss a chance to destroy some more Karacknid ships. As the group of five hundred fighters flashed through the remnants of the Gal-tak fleet, they destroyed ships with abandon. The Karacknid ships had lost so much cohesion, and most had suffered so much damage that they barely even noticed the fighters until they were upon them. Georgia’s attack ensured that Scott’s sixth salvo was indeed the last needed to destroy the fleet. For the price of just two hundred and seventy warships, Scott had taken out an entire Karacknid formation.

And we’re not done yet, Scott said to herself as she turned to her Chief of Staff. “Instruct Lieutenant General Gex’tiran that his forces may proceed.”

As Scott’s combined fleet of over nine thousand warships closed with the Karacknid fleet base, a force of a thousand Free Karacknid warships and assault freighters charged the fleet base’s orbital stations. While the warships provided cover for the assault freighters, free Karacknid fighters swooped in and destroyed the orbital stations’ defenses. Then the assault freighters docked with the orbital stations, and Karacknid warriors fought Karacknid warriors for control of the stations. Within an hour, every station was secured. The last time Scott had attacked the system, she had completely destroyed the Karacknid stations; this time, she had just captured a supply base that would serve to aid Jonathan’s invasion of their enemy’s space.

Once the fighting was over, Scott spent a couple of hours reorganizing her forces and dispatching her damaged ships with a small escort back to Olm FOB. Then she set course for the system’s northeastern shift passage. The first battle of their invasion campaign was over. It was now time to continue her advance into the Karacknid Empire.

Chapter 7

The strength of our Empire is not found in its hierarchical structures, but in its traditions, leaders, and above all, the rights and freedoms given to every citizen in our constitution. It is for these that generations of the Empire’s citizens have fought, and it is these all naval officers take an oath to protect.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Karacknid Fleet Base System, 15th October 2514 AD, (one day later).

Jonathan tapped his command chair as he ran through several scenarios in his mind. Around Imperial, he had seven thousand warships. His force was more than enough to handle the twenty-five hundred Karacknid ships garrisoning the fleet base in front of his flagship. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the same one he hoped Scott had already overcome. She should have reached her target a day or two before him and had likely already destroyed the first Karacknid fleet base. Now, it was his job to hit one further to the east of Scott’s.

However, where she had a hidden shift passage that allowed her to deploy forces behind the Karacknids, he did not. If we could just convince them to stay and fight, that would be enough, Jonathan thought. Unlike Scott’s fleet base, the one he was observing was covered with orbital battlestations. If he could convince the Karacknid fleet to hide behind the battlestations and fight, then he had the numbers to simply move in, surround the base, and pulverize it from long range. However, as soon as the Karacknid warships saw his full strength, they were likely to abandon the base and retreat north.

One other option Jonathan was considering was to send a small squadron to engage the two hundred warships patrolling the system’s shift passage. If he matched the Karacknid patrol ships ship for ship, then the commander of the main Karacknid fleet might send reinforcements to aid them. Jonathan could then feed in more of his own ships and try to escalate the battle to the point where the Karacknids committed all their forces. Yet that would be costly.

“Get me Tasata-su,” Jonathan said as he turned to Rossi. There was another idea he had been toying with that was worth running past the Karacknid general.

“Imperator,” Tasata-su said as his face appeared in front of Jonathan’s, and he gave his Imperator a small bow. “Do you have orders for my warships?”

“Perhaps,” Jonathan said, and then he quickly outlined what he was thinking.

Tasata-su shook his head when Jonathan was done. “That is not a tactic I would have thought of, Imperator. It is better to just advance on the enemy and force them to fight. Yet I understand why we do not wish them to be able to retreat.” Tasata-su paused for a second, clearly thinking. “My commanders won’t be particularly pleased to carry out such a deception; however, they will follow orders, and if it works, it would be pleasing to see the surprise on the enemy’s faces.”

Jonathan smiled. “I’ll take that as a vote of approval, General. Let’s speak to your officers and see how good at acting they are.”

*

Two hours later, everything was set. With a nod from Jonathan, Iso sent out the final go order. In response, a group of five hundred Karacknid warships and freighters detached themselves from Jonathan’s fleet. They then carried out a micro jump into the system. As soon as they appeared back on Imperial’s sensors, they went to full acceleration as they tried to break around the Gal-tak frigates and destroyers that were patrolling the shift passage. Several ship-to-ship battles broke out as the nearest Gal-tak patrols were destroyed, but for the most part, the Gal-tak ships wisely pulled back.

Instead of making for the fleet base, the Free Karacknid squadron settled onto a course that looked like they were heading around the inner system and toward one of the system’s northwestern shift passages. For fifteen minutes, they moved deeper into the system as many of the Gal-tak patrol ships shadowed them. At the same time, a thousand warships broke away from the Karacknid fleet base and slowly moved out toward the outer system, ready for trouble.

Then a second Free Karacknid force detached itself from Jonathan’s command and jumped into the system. As soon as they emerged back into real space, they laid in a pursuit course for the first group and began to give chase. Seconds later, an encrypted message was transmitted throughout the system. “Karacknid warriors of the Gal-tak clan, I am Commodore Kal-tral of the Tars’tazan clan. I apologize for the intrusion into your clan’s territory. I assure you, my intentions are not hostile. I am chasing a Free Karacknid squadron that tried to pass through my clan’s territory.

“We managed to cut off their attempt to flee south toward Human space. However, they doubled back into your clan’s territory. These traitors cannot be allowed to live. They are enemies to all true Karacknids. I ask for your help to intercept them before they head deeper into your space and sow discontent among your people. I give you my word, once they are destroyed, I will leave your space immediately.”

As the message reached Imperial about the same time as the Karacknid fleet base, Jonathan sat forward in his command chair after listening to Kal-tral. Of course, it was a ruse. It was an adaptation of something Jonathan knew his father had used more than once. He was hoping the Gal-tak commander would be so keen to kill some Free Karacknids that he wouldn’t look or think twice about Kal-tral’s force. Though if he did, he would see what he expected, for Commodore Kal-tral was indeed from the Tars’tazan clan, as were all the ships in his force. It just so happened that they too were Free Karacknids.

“What do you think, General?” Jonathan asked Tasata-su after nearly a minute had passed and none of the Gal-tak warships had responded.

“Kal-tral is an even better liar than I thought,” Tasata-su said. “I will have to watch that one more closely.”

Jonathan smiled. Initially, when he had spoken to Kal-tral, the commander had not been keen on openly lying to win a battle. He had seen it as dishonorable. Jonathan had pointed out that technically, most of what he needed to say was actually the truth. He was chasing a Free Karacknid convoy, and if it was destroyed, he would have to retreat and leave the system.

“What about our enemy?” Jonathan prompted.

Before Tasata-su could answer, the Gal-tak responded. The thousand warships that had been slowly meandering their way towards the newcomers suddenly increased their acceleration rates. At the same time, another thousand accelerated away from the fleet base at even higher rates as they moved to join them. Most of the scout ships around the system’s southern shift passage that hadn’t already begun to shadow the three Karacknid forces moved to do so as well.

“I would say, Imperator, that they have taken the bait,” Tasata-su said as he grinned, showing several thick clumps of saliva running between his teeth—a very clear Karacknid sign of excitement. “I only wish I were in Kal-tral’s shoes now.”

And I bet Georgia wishes she were here with us too, Jonathan thought. Though the Gal-tak warships had taken the bait, there was no way he could sneak his fleet past the few ships that were still patrolling the southern shift passage. Fighters were another matter. “Iso, signal Wing Commander Sanders that he may proceed with his part of the trap,” Jonathan ordered. He then forced himself to sit back in his command chair and at least try to relax. He never liked ordering others into battle when he was not leading, yet it was something he knew he would have to get more and more used to.

The Karacknid commander in charge of the fake Free Karacknid convoy showed himself to be just as competent as Kal-tral. As soon as the Gal-tak ships began to maneuver against him, he altered his course to try and get around them. For half an hour, all three groups of ships kept changing their trajectories as the Free Karacknid convoy sought a way around either Kal-tral’s pursuers or the Gal-tak fleet. However, what was really going on was that Kal-tral and the Free Karacknid convoy were luring their enemies into just the right spot. As soon as the Gal-tak ships were where Jonathan wanted them, the Free Karacknids pounced.

At the same time, Kal-tral’s ships and the ones he was pursuing suddenly turned. Within seconds, it was clear they had perfectly surrounded the Gal-tak patrolling ships that had moved into the system from the shift passage. Worse for the Gal-tak ships, the Free Karacknid freighters that they had likely assumed contained the families of Free Karacknid warriors instead began deploying Karacknid fighters.

The battle was over quickly. Of the two hundred Gal-tak light cruisers, destroyers, and frigates that had shadowed the Free Karacknid convoy, one hundred and seventy were destroyed by the three missile salvos that struck them. In return, they only scored forty kills.

Understandably, the main Gal-tak fleet was not happy. The two thousand ships that had left the fleet base had already joined up with one another by the time Jonathan’s surprise was revealed. Though they could only watch helplessly as their comrades were slaughtered, they didn’t turn back to their fleet base. Instead, they continued to try and catch Kal-tral’s force. As Kal-tral joined his ships with the ones he had been pretending to pursue, the enemy commander should have realized something was up, for Kal-tral was not running away.

Either way, it didn’t matter, for Jonathan’s fighters were already in position. Forty minutes before the Gal-tak fleet could hope to bring Kal-tral’s ships into range, ten thousand fighters came out of stealth. Within a minute, they had charged past Kal-tral’s ships and were rapidly closing in on the Gal-tak fleet. Though the Gal-tak fleet turned back toward their fleet base, they were far too far away to reach the safety of its battlestations in time. Knowing this, they launched their own fighters and had them form up to defend themselves.

Both sets of fighters clashed, and thousands died. Yet the Allied fighters didn’t slow. As soon as they were past the Karacknid ones, they charged on toward the Gal-tak warships. A dense wave of defensive fire reached out to greet them. At least fifteen hundred more fighters died as they raced into attack range. But then, the Allied fighters began to fire. Laser and grazer beams were fired by the Eaglaton and Varanni fighters first. They flashed across the remaining distance to their targets in the blink of an eye, and suddenly the Gal-tak fleet was filled with explosions. The attack threw the enemy warships into confusion as hundreds were destroyed, sending massive waves of debris out in every direction.

Desperately, the remaining Gal-tak ships maneuvered to avoid collisions with damaged and destroyed ships even as they continued to fire on the Allied fighters that were still charging. Then the Imperial and Vestarian fighters released their missiles. Twelve thousand small, nimble anti-ship missiles were hurled toward the Gal-tak warships. Three-quarters were shot down as the Karacknids switched their fire to the missiles, yet that left more than enough to wreck the Gal-tak fleet.

When the blue hue from the antimatter explosions finally dissipated, less than seven hundred Gal-tak ships remained. Many of them were badly damaged. “Jump us in,” Jonathan ordered. A second later, two small tremors ran up Jonathan’s command chair as Imperial jumped into and then out of shift space. Immediately, the Allied fighters looped around and away from the Gal-tak ships, heading back toward their carriers. “Put us on a pursuit course,” Jonathan said to Iso once his entire fleet was in formation after the jump.

With so many damaged ships, what was left of the Gal-tak fleet could only achieve twenty percent of the acceleration rate they had before the fighter attack. Jonathan’s ships had such an acceleration advantage over them that they would easily catch the Gal-tak remnants. As soon as that became clear to the Karacknids, the Gal-tak fleet began to break apart. Every ship that could, increased its acceleration rate as they fled toward the fleet base.

Jonathan waited until most of the less damaged Gal-tak warships were well on their way toward the fleet base, then turned to Rossi. “Signal Commodore Kal-tral, instruct him to take out as many as he can.”

As soon as he received the command, Kal-tral charged in after the Gal-tak stragglers. He left the slowest of the enemy ships alone, for Jonathan’s fleet could easily take them. Instead, he bypassed them and went for the rest of the surviving stragglers from the massive Allied fighter attack. The Gal-tak ships were caught in a bind. None of them could go any faster, and so only those at the head of the column of ships could outrun Kal-tral. Yet for the others, if they slowed and turned to help their slower comrades, they would ensure that Jonathan’s fleet caught and overwhelmed them.

The result was that every Gal-tak ship that was in danger was left to fend for itself. Each ship tried to increase its acceleration rate as much as possible, risking overloading its reactors or engines in an attempt to reach the safety of the fleet base. With typical Karacknid ruthlessness, Kal-tral and his squadron tore into the fleeing ships. One by one, his force blew apart another one hundred and sixty ships. Then, just before entering the range of the fleet base’s large battlestations, Kal-tral angled his squadron away.

As he did, Harte fired a single low-strength salvo from Jonathan’s fleet at the slowest of the Gal-tak survivors. Every single one was destroyed without being able to return fire. “Now for the battlestations,” Jonathan said. “Surround the base, and then we will begin our assault.”

As Iso and Jonathan had planned several days ago, Jonathan’s seven thousand ships split into four smaller formations and then moved in toward the fleet base. They took up positions where they could mutually support one another with their defensive fire yet were spread out enough that if the remaining eight hundred Gal-tak warships tried to make a run for the system’s northern shift passages, they could be intercepted. Once it was clear the Karacknids could not escape, Jonathan caught Rossi’s gaze. “Signal O’Kane and Reverus and inform them it is clear for them to proceed.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Rossi responded, then seconds later Imperial’s gravimetric COM began pulsing as it sent its FTL message out beyond the system.

Before he gave the order for his own fleet to attack, Jonathan couldn’t help pausing to watch as the rest of his battlefleet emerged into the system. First, O’Kane’s squadron of fourteen hundred warships jumped out at the same point Jonathan’s fleet had a couple of hours ago. Immediately, they began to accelerate at full speed across the system toward its northwestern shift passage. Just a couple of minutes later, Reverus’ main force began to appear. Twenty-six thousand ships in four different fleets formed up, and then they too began to pass through the system, ignoring the Karacknid fleet base. With only battlecruisers in O’Kane’s force, his squadron quickly began to pull ahead of the main formation of Allied ships as O’Kane took up position to screen the main fleet’s advance deeper into Gal-tak territory.

Flashes from the other side of the system signaled where Imperial's sensors had just detected Karacknid frigates disappearing. The handful of patrol ships that had been watching the northern shift passages had all just jumped out. Bringing news of our fleet north, Jonathan was sure. Just as he wanted.

“Let’s finish this so we can rejoin Reverus as quickly as possible,” Jonathan said to his officers. “Move us into range and begin firing.”

Although Jonathan had ships and weapon systems within his battlefleet that would have allowed him to destroy the Karacknid fleet base from a safe distance, he didn’t use them. If there were other Karacknid frigates out there watching the battle from a distance, he didn’t want to give away any of his secrets just yet. Instead, he relied on his numerical advantage. Together, Jonathan’s seven thousand warships moved into maximum missile range of the Karacknid base. Then, slowly, they began to release salvo after salvo at the remaining enemy warships and the battlestations they were huddled around.

With his first salvo, Jonathan sent in his fighters once again. Having had ample time to land, refuel, and rearm, they proved deadly to the massive battlestations. Arriving just after Jonathan’s first salvo of missiles had struck home, the fighters focused all their fire on the large battlestations that couldn’t dodge their fire. Laser beams and then antimatter missiles ripped through the Gal-tak stations, destroying two-thirds of the six hundred behemoths.

After suffering such significant losses, the Karacknids were unable to put up any further serious resistance. Jonathan’s second salvo finished off the remaining battlestations, and then three more salvos dealt with the Gal-tak warships. Jonathan lost just four hundred fighters and two hundred and fifty ships in the engagement.

Though many of the fleet base’s supply and logistical stations had been damaged or destroyed in the crossfire, a significant portion remained largely intact. “Inform General Tasata-su his forces may begin their assault,” Jonathan ordered. An hour later, all the stations had been secured by Karacknid warriors. Along with the supply stations Jonathan hoped Scott had secured at her target system, the former Gal-tak fleet base would now serve the Allied cause.

Quickly, Jonathan appointed one of his Commodores to take charge of the stations, assigned him a small garrison force of warships, dispatched any of his ships that were too damaged to continue north back toward Olm FOB, and then set off after Reverus. “The faster we move north, the more desperate the other Gal-tak forces will be to get back to their main worlds,” Jonathan said to his officers to spur them on.

Chapter 8

The First Antarian War took the Empire by complete surprise. We did not know where they came from nor why they had launched their invasion. For several months, it looked like the entire Empire might fall to their might.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Supernova, 20th October 2514 AD, (five days later).

“Well, well,” O’Kane said as he and his officers watched the newcomers enter the system. Four hundred Gal-tak warships and an equal number of freighters had just exited shift space and were rushing toward Supernova's position. “I wonder what they are thinking?”

An hour ago, O’Kane had jumped his screening squadron into the unnamed system. As his frigates stealthily moved into the system looking for hidden Karacknid warships or traps, his battlecruisers’ passive scanners had been peering into the inner system. Until moments ago, they had detected no signs of any enemy activity. That had now changed.

“Maybe they’re some kind of supply delivery for one of the border forts, and they haven’t received word that their border systems are under attack,” O’Kane’s tactical officer suggested.

O’Kane nodded. It was a possibility. Before attacking either fleet base, Admiral Somerville had ordered stealth frigates and cruisers to move beyond their targets. They had been tasked with intercepting any enemy warships heading north with news of the attacks. Ships heading west to the other fleet bases had been left alone, but already O’Kane had linked up with several stealth cruisers that reported scoring kills on ships heading north.

“Whatever the reason, they’re acting far too relaxed,” he responded. Ahead of the main body of enemy ships, there were just eight frigates on the lookout for danger.

“Technically, they’re two systems away from their border, well within their clan’s territory,” O’Kane’s chief of staff pointed out.

“Well, if they want to be overconfident, we can oblige them,” O’Kane said eagerly. It was his mission to forge as far north as quickly as he could and catch out as many unsuspecting Karacknids as possible. He hadn’t expected such an opportunity to fall into his lap so quickly, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Let’s move the squadron in quietly,” O’Kane said. “We’ll deal with this convoy and then continue checking out the system.”

“Aye, Rear Admiral,” O’Kane’s chief of staff responded.

Over the next two hours, O’Kane fanned his warships out into a wide crescent formation. Then he waited for his enemy to come to him. The deeper the Gal-tak convoy came into the system, the less chance any of their ships had of escaping. Half an hour after his ships were all in formation, the Gal-tak convoy’s frigates finally stumbled across his first ships.

By the time the eight frigates detected the twelve light cruisers O’Kane had placed at the center of his crescent formation, it was far too late for them. Several died as they fought alone, while the others turned and tried to flee and join up with one another. The light cruisers’ momentum advantage meant they never got close to the convoy before succumbing to two missile salvos.

The convoy, now realizing it was in a dire situation, flung out more frigates and active recon drones in almost every direction. At the same time, the main body of warships and large freighters immediately began to decelerate. However, their fate was already sealed as well. Within minutes, they understood this as their recon drones began to discover O’Kane’s other forces.

“Signal all ships to go active,” O’Kane ordered as he began to get reports from some of his ships that they had likely been detected.

Seconds later, twelve hundred warships came out of stealth. Arrayed in four formations of three hundred ships, they almost completely enveloped the Gal-tak convoy. Just minutes later, they all came into range with their missiles. Coming in from four different angles, the Karacknids stood no chance of fending off the attack.

Accepting the convoy’s loss, the Gal-tak warships formed into a tight defensive ball and then fired their own salvo at one of O’Kane’s formations. They clearly wanted to inflict as much damage as possible to O’Kane’s ships before they were destroyed. However, they weren’t going to get their way.

Almost as soon as the Karacknid missiles left their tubes, two thousand Allied fighters came out of stealth. Instead of charging the Karacknid convoy, they swooped in after the missiles. With a slower starting velocity compared to the fighters, the missiles struggled to pull ahead. By the time they did, their numbers had been significantly thinned. When the understrength salvo reached O’Kane’s formation, they were almost all dealt with. Only seventeen missiles struck targets, destroying three ships, and badly damaging six more.

O’Kane’s salvo was a different matter. Every missile in O’Kane’s first salvo ignored the freighters and targeted the Gal-tak warships. The Karacknids’ defensive fire took out barely half of the Allied missiles. Death then rained down upon the two hundred warships. When the explosions stopped, Supernova's sensors detected just twenty-four ships still intact. All appeared to have suffered some damage.

“Tactical, finish them off. But let’s not waste any missiles,” O’Kane ordered. “COMs, hail those freighters, inform them that if they surrender, their crews will be spared and transported to the nearest Gal-tak world that isn’t owned by another sentient species. Give them five minutes to cut their engines. After that, take them out, Tactical.”

“Aye, Admiral,” O’Kane’s officers responded.

To O’Kane’s surprise, sixteen of the freighters took him up on his offer. Immediately, he sent Free Karacknid warriors over to take control of them. Whatever they were carrying, he was sure it would prove useful for Admiral Somerville’s fleet. Then, O’Kane watched as his fleet closed in on the rest of the freighters. To save missiles, his battlecruisers opened up on them with their heavy laser cannons. Despite their best evasive maneuvers, blowing apart the unarmored freighters was child’s play for O’Kane’s gunners.

“Well done, everyone,” O’Kane said to his officers. “Now, let’s get our frigates heading out toward the northern shift passage again and be on our way. If the Karacknids in front of us don’t know we’re coming yet, this will not be the last convoy we encounter. I, for one, am eager to see what’s waiting for us as we continue north!”

Supernova's bridge was filled with officers nodding their heads and voicing agreement. It was going to take at least six weeks to travel north through the Gal-tak clan’s territory to their main administrative worlds. O’Kane was sure his squadron was going to come across many more targets of opportunity. And he knew the quicker he moved, the more unsuspecting Karacknids they would meet!

*

IS Imperial, 29th October 2514 AD, (nine days later).

For the third time in a week, Jonathan watched as Allied missiles rained down on a Gal-tak mining world. In a whirlwind advance, his battlefleet had crossed over a hundred and fifty light-years and nine systems in just two weeks. Though Jonathan’s priority was to move north as quickly as possible, he had no problem detaching some of his warships to strike at critical Karacknid infrastructure as they passed. Destroying the Gal-tak’s ability to produce war materials was as important as taking their main worlds.

The ease with which his forces had moved northward was helped in great part by the lack of enemy resistance. It seemed like all the Gal-tak ships had either been watching their southern border, were at their main administrative worlds, or were likely watching their borders with their neighboring clans. The interior of their territory appeared to be almost entirely undefended. The few squadrons that had been encountered were easily overwhelmed by the Allied battlefleet’s numbers.

The only real problem Jonathan had been encountering were the many Karacknid worlds that were immediately rebelling as soon as they saw the Allied fleet. It seemed news of Tanaka-lan’s death had reached even the most backward of Karacknid worlds. Every system that was home to a sentient species was already like a tinderbox. Just one spark was needed to set the locals off, and the sight of forty thousand warships hostile to the Karacknids was more than enough to set off all but the most passive species.

As best he could, Jonathan had been providing aid to the different sentient species the Karacknids had conquered. Though he could spare little in terms of actual resources, he had tasked ships with destroying Karacknid orbital stations and bombarding planetary compounds and military fortifications. He had also instructed General Johnston to land small teams of marines who could teach the locals how to fight the Karacknid warriors who, in many cases, had gone to ground when his fleet appeared.

Though that was now becoming the norm, the system he was in now was to be different. Almost from the outset of the planning stage of his invasion, Jonathan had selected this system for different treatment. “Launch the ground forces,” Jonathan ordered as soon as the last orbital battlestation was blown apart by his missiles.

Already, many of the major cities and industrial nodes on the planet’s surface were littered with massive plumes of smoke from the fighting. Yet Jonathan wanted to save as much of the planet’s infrastructure as he could. Thanks to General Tasata-su’s information, Jonathan knew Sansatar was home to a people who called themselves Hoasmans. Though they had four arms and five eyes, in many other ways they were similar to most of the other humanoid species Humanity had developed relationships with. According to Tasata-su, they had once been a relatively advanced civilization before the Karacknids had conquered them fifteen hundred years ago.

In many ways then, they were like the species who inhabited the other systems Jonathan’s battlefleet had passed through. What really interested Jonathan was what was underneath the crust of the Hoasmans’ world; namely valstronium. The precious metal that was used to make the armored hulls of every Allied warship was in short supply within Allied space. The additional demands of all the allied species' shipyards, especially the Kulrean ones, were eating up all the valstronium that the Allies could mine. Tasata-su’s intelligence suggested that at peak production the Hoasmans’ world mined as much valstronium as all of Humanity’s mines put together.

Judging by the smoke coming from many of the Karacknid mining facilities all across the planet’s surface, Jonathan guessed peak production had already collapsed and wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. That didn’t mean the world couldn’t be very useful to him, hence why he was here.

“How are we doing raising whoever is in charge down there?” he asked as hundreds of shuttles took off from Johnston’s troop ships and split up as they headed for the six major mining facilities and the planet’s capital.

“We’re still working on it,” Rossi responded. “We’ve had contact with a bunch of different local leaders, but none appear to have any overall operational influence over the fighting that has broken out.”

Jonathan nodded. That wasn’t entirely unexpected. Given how ruthless the Karacknids ruled the species they conquered, it was likely very difficult to maintain an organized resistance movement. “Just keep broadcasting our recorded message then,” Jonathan instructed. Rossi nodded.

Jonathan had recorded the message before the fighting started. It told the Hoasmans who they were and informed them that they were trying to take as much of the Karacknid infrastructure intact so that they could give it to the Hoasmans. Jonathan had no way of knowing if the Hoasmans believed him. In their shoes, he would likely be suspicious, but he hoped they would at least refrain from attacking his forces until the Karacknids were defeated.

Ten minutes later, when most of the landing forces were still securing their LZs and pushing out to their objectives, Rossi pulled Jonathan’s attention away from the live feeds from the surface. “I think I have someone who wants to speak to you, Admiral. She claims to be a Senator or someone equivalent to that position in their government.”

“Their government?” Jonathan asked.

“It looks like the Karacknids allowed the Hoasmans to have an element of autonomy,” Iso explained. “But Tasata-su says it was mostly for show.”

“Then how do we know the people will listen to this senator?” Jonathan asked. “They’ll probably see her as a collaborator.”

“This might help,” Rossi said as she sent a recording to the main holo display. It showed a group of Hoasmans charging a small Karacknid compound. The Karacknids shot down many of them with their laser rifles, but the locals appeared to have some kind of kinetic weapon of their own. Enough Karacknids were killed that a swarm of Hoasmans reached the compound. A bloodbath ensued as the Hoasmans tore into the Karacknid warriors. Though Karacknid claws sliced through many Hoasmans, the Hoasmans' four arms proved to be equally as terrifying. Whenever they got a hold of a Karacknid, they would grab onto its body with two arms and then use their other two arms to rip off arms, legs, and even heads!

At the end of the battle, the recording zoomed in on one alien. Her features were easily feminine enough for Jonathan to guess she was female, yet the rest of the image was anything but feminine. As she stood after fighting with a Karacknid, the female turned and held up a Karacknid head as she roared to the other victorious fighters around her. Then she turned and faced the recording device, holding the head a little higher as blood continued to drip profusely from its severed neck.

“Am I to take it this is our senator?” Jonathan asked.

“That is her, Admiral,” Rossi said. “This recording has been playing on a loop across the planet for the last twenty minutes or so.”

“Well, I guess I better speak with her then,” Jonathan said.

“She is waiting,” Rossi responded, then gestured to the main holo display as the recording of the alien was replaced by a live image.

“Senator,” Jonathan said as he gave the alien a small bow. “I am Emperor Somerville, leader of the Human Empire. We are one of the Allied species that make up this battlefleet. As you can see and may already know, we are at war with the Karacknid Empire.”

“Emperor, it is an honor to meet you,” the alien said as she bowed low. “My name is Senator Jamal Lacal. I have not heard of your species personally, but we have known for some time that our enslavers have been at war with another power that they have not been able to conquer.” Jamal smiled. “It seems they have been having even more struggles than the rumors led us to believe. I am surprised and impressed that you have such a large fleet of warships.”

“My Empire and its allies have known the future that awaits our species if we lose this war,” Jonathan said. "We have been preparing for over twenty years.”

“Then you are the ones who killed the Karacknid Imperator?” Jamal asked.

Jonathan nodded. “My father, the previous ruler of our species, defeated Tanaka-lan, but he died in the process. At the time, Tanaka-lan was attempting to invade my species' homeworld with a fleet three times the size of the one we have here. I have come to ensure no Karacknid fleet can ever again threaten my people.”

“A noble cause,” Jamal said as she gave Jonathan another small bow. “And I am glad you have passed through our system. I hope that in time our two species can become friends. I also want to thank you for the assistance you have provided our people in their fight for freedom. Taking out the Karacknid orbital stations and their main military bases has given us a real chance."

“However, and in saying this I do not wish to cause offense, I would like to ask that you return your ground troops back to their orbital ships. This is our planet. My people and I wish to liberate it ourselves. We have been waiting generations for this opportunity. We do not wish to owe our freedom to anyone else.”

Surprise and then more than a little irritation washed over Jonathan. Already, marines had died in the fighting on the planet’s surface. More, it was only the blood of his fleets that had given them the chance to actually revolt. Though he thought all this, Jonathan kept it to himself. Channeling his mother’s teachings, he took a moment to think carefully about his reply.

“First, let me say that I completely understand your sentiments, Senator. Your people have been horribly mistreated. There are no words to describe the evils that I know the Karacknids have committed against you and your ancestors. Neither I nor any of my allies wish to impede your freedom or your species' right to throw off those who have enslaved you. However, I cannot call back my troops.” Jonathan held both his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “If you would allow me to explain my reasons, I hope we can come to understand each other better.”

Jamal looked irritated, though not nearly as angry as she had been when she had ripped the head off the Karacknid warrior Jonathan had watched her kill. Even so, Jonathan felt pretty sure that if he were physically in a room with her, he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable at this very moment. She too took a couple of seconds to reply as the emotions on her face appeared to come more under control.

“I will listen to what you have to say, Emperor. Though I warn you, continuing to base your troops on our planet when you have been asked to remove them will not easily be forgotten by my people.”

Jonathan smiled at Jamal as best he could. “I thank you for listening, Senator. So, let me explain our actions. The truth is, when my battlefleet left my species’ homeworld over a month and a half ago, your world was one of our targets. From intelligence we had gathered, we knew it is a vital world in our war with the Karacknids.

“Now, let me be clear, your world is not a target for invasion, but rather one that we wish to help liberate. You need to know that as we have advanced through Karacknid space, many other worlds similar to yours have attempted to overthrow their Karacknid oppressors after we have destroyed their fleets and orbital stations. Though we have offered them advice and a few military experts to train them, we have not stopped long enough to land any troop formations on any of their worlds.

“Your world is different because of its strategic importance. The metal the Karacknids have had your people mine is called valstronium. It is essential to any military force that wishes to build a fleet of battleships because we need it to armor our ships. This armor protects ships from enemy weapons and from cosmic dust and radiation. The Karacknid Empire has vastly more supplies of valstronium than we do. Taking this world and gaining access to its valstronium is very important to us.

“Now, let me be clear, we are not here as conquerors. My troops are not on your planet’s surface to take control of the Karacknid mining facilities. Their objective is to secure them before the Karacknids on your planet can destroy them. After that, we intend to hand them over to your people. But these facilities are too important for us to risk being destroyed in your fighting with the Karacknids.

“My forces are experts at fighting Karacknids and have the skills to take these facilities intact. That is what they are currently doing. After that, we will hand them over to you. Though we hope that we will then be able to trade with you for valstronium in exchange for the kinds of supplies and technologies we can give you to help your species rebuild its civilization. I hope you can understand our position. As much as I would like to put your species’ wants first, my priority must be the wider war my allies and I are fighting, for if we lose, we will all be enslaved.”

Jamal pressed her lips together and then pulled them apart again. “What if we do not want to trade with you? We can rebuild our own civilization without your help, and we do not need this valstronium to do it. Billions of our people have died mining this metal over the last one thousand years. My people want nothing more to do with it.”

Jonathan closed his eyes as he felt the passion in Jamal’s words. He could easily understand her sentiments. But they were wrong. “I sense the strength behind your words, Senator, and I realize the sentiments behind them will be hard to change. Yet for the sake of your people, I would encourage you to think very carefully about what happens next in your species’ journey.

“The galaxy is not the same one your ancestors lived in before they were conquered. All around you, many other sentient species are currently throwing off the Karacknids' shackles. Just because they were conquered by the Karacknids, it does not mean that they are peace-loving or friendly. Soon your civilization will be surrounded by other fledgling civilizations, many of which will be competing with one another for resources and perhaps even territory. Your planet’s valstronium deposits will be the envy of every other species within two hundred light years. Sooner or later, either pirates or another civilization will come to try and take them. And that assumes the Karacknids do not return themselves. You cannot simply hide your head in the sand when it comes to what is under your planet’s surface.

“On the other hand, you can take what caused the Karacknids to invade and enslave you and use it to your species’ advantage. By trading with us and your neighbors, you can gain the supplies, technologies, and help your species needs to quickly rebuild its civilization. Further, you can even start to build your own warships to defend yourselves. In fact, we would be happy to build warships suitable for your species in exchange for valstronium shipments. Moreover, we could help you build your own shipyard here in this system.

“Valstronium is the most valuable commodity in this sector of the galaxy. I understand its link to the atrocities your species has suffered, but it is also your species’ hope for the future. I hope you can come to understand this and appreciate that we are here offering to trade for it with you rather than simply taking what we want by force.”

Again, Jamal took her time replying. “For generations, my people have cursed the deposits under our planet’s surface. Almost, we have wished we could have been birthed on another world. Now you tell us we must rethink something so central to our ethos? That will not be easy to do, Emperor. How can I or my people possibly trust you in this?”

Jonathan knew a younger version of himself might be tempted to lie, or at least embellish the truth. Yet he had learned that his father’s advice was always the best: tell them the truth. “You can’t trust me, Senator, not really. Yes, you can look at my actions. My ships have only destroyed Karacknid orbital stations, and my troops will only fire upon the Karacknid warriors on your planet’s surface unless your people launch a coordinated attack against us. However, that only tells you so much. The truth is, you have to choose to trust me and the other species in my alliance, or you won’t. All I can give you is my word…

“Tell me this,” Jonathan said to change the subject slightly when Jamal didn’t immediately reply. “If we capture any of the mining facilities intact, are your people able to run them?”

As if she had been dialoguing with Humans for centuries, Jamal shook her head. “No, not on our own. The Karacknids have trained millions of our people to carry out menial tasks and basic repair work. We can run some of the lower-order computer systems as well. However, none of us have the expertise to run an actual mining facility. The Karacknids always made sure none of our species fully understood their technologies and how they work.”

“That’s what I suspected,” Jonathan replied. “It is the same on every planet the Karacknids rule. So how about this: assuming we capture some of the facilities intact over the next several hours, I will begin sending down some of our best scientists and technicians to inspect the facilities. They will then assist your people in getting them running and teach your people to operate them. As soon as your people can run them by themselves, we will then leave them fully in your hands.

“We will also then give you automation technologies that will ensure your people do not have to risk their lives mining the metal themselves. Hopefully, in that way, we can begin to earn more of your trust. My people have no interest in taking what is rightfully yours; we only wish to fairly trade with you for it.”

“If that is indeed how things play out, then you will have earned a measure of our trust,” Jamal said.

Jonathan nodded. “I hope that will be the case. There is one small caveat I must add for the sake of openness. As long as we have engineers on the surface, we will need to keep a detachment of ground troops with them for their safety and maintain a small garrison fleet in orbit. This is to ensure that no small Karacknid squadron passes by the system and attacks our people. By the end of today, I intend to take my fleet and continue our campaign north, so you can be assured we are not here to stay. However, some of our ships will have to remain if you allow us to help you.”

“If that is how it must be, then that is how it must be,” Jamal said.

“Very good,” Jonathan said, feeling a little more positive about how the conversation was going. “I will send orders for my engineers to get ready to head to the surface. If you would, I would appreciate you speaking to your people and informing all your different armed groups to refrain from engaging my ground forces. It might also be wise if they leave assaulting the mining facilities to my soldiers.”

“I will pass on both sets of instructions, Emperor. I expect most groups will listen to me, but I cannot guarantee that all will.”

“As long as most do, that will have to do,” Jonathan said.

“I’m sorry, Emperor,” Iso said, sounding suitably apologetic for interrupting. “But we have just received news that I think you would wish to see immediately.”

“Of course, Commander,” Jonathan said as he glanced at Iso and saw on her face that the news was indeed serious. “If you would excuse me momentarily, Senator. You can send out your messages, and then we can speak again once I have dealt with this. I’m sure you have many more questions you would like to ask.”

“I understand, Emperor, you are fighting a war. I will speak more with you when it is convenient,” Jamal said.

Jonathan gave the alien a small bow which the senator returned. Then, immediately, Iso cut the COM channel. In place of the holo image of Jamal, she projected a star map of the southern half of Gal-tak space.

“One of the scouts we sent east to watch for the other two Gal-tak border fleets has reported back. The two fleets have combined and were spotted in this system five days ago, heading north,” Iso said as a system began to flash, along with an estimated route the fleet was likely to take through the series of shift passages that headed north. “They are running roughly parallel to us, but they are making good time on us too.”

Jonathan’s heart rate increased as he studied the star map. It took just seconds for one system to jump out at him. “Here,” he said as he pointed to it, and it began to flash on the star map. “We can get there ahead of them, and they won’t know to look for us. It’s the perfect battlefield.”

Jonathan turned from the image and met Iso’s eyes, seeing the same anticipation there that he felt bubbling up within him. “Ready our ships to break orbit. We’ll leave General Johnston’s fleet and our supply train here with half the battlefleet. Everyone else is to break orbit within ten minutes. We have to get ahead of them—there is no time to waste!”

Almost as an after thought, Jonathan remembered Jamal. “Rossi, send a message to the Senator, give her my apologies, and let her know the fleet needs to leave immediately. Inform her that General Johnston has full authority to treat with her on my behalf. Let her know I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Rossi said seriously.

Jonathan nodded to her. He hoped Jamal would understand. But even if she doesn’t, destroying Gal-tak ships now is way more important than being able to build more four or five years down the line!

Chapter 9

Thankfully, at the outbreak of the war, the fleet still had some officers who were students of the First and Second Karacknid Wars. It was they who turned the tide in the end.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Supernova, 3rd October 2514 AD, (five days later).

“We are in position, Admiral,” O’Kane said to Jonathan as Supernova came to a halt near the system’s northern shift passage.

“Thank you, Rear Admiral. Your staff has done a fine job,” Jonathan replied, slowly letting out a deep breath of relief.

The last five days had been frantic as he raced northward and westward with elements of his battlefleet. To ensure he got a blocking force in front of the two Karacknid border fleets, he had split up his forces. After transferring his flag to Supernova, he reinforced O’Kane’s squadron up to a full fleet. Then, with only battlecruisers in the fleet, they had moved ahead of the rest of Jonathan’s ships.

Now Jonathan had his forces where he wanted them. He would face the Gal-tak border fleets on a battlefield of his choosing. And we still have the numerical advantage, Jonathan knew. Since the first report had come in, he had been receiving constant updates from his scouts on the movement of the Gal-tak ships. Like Jonathan, they were racing north as fast as they could. It made them hard to catch but had, at least, made their route predictable as they sought the shortest way north.

“How long do you think we have?” Jonathan asked, turning to Harte. He had brought Iso, Harte, and Rossi with him from Imperial.

“Two hours, at most,” Harte said. “They probably already have frigates in stealth checking out the system.”

Harte’s prediction proved correct. Just an hour and a half later, a large squadron of ships started entering the system from its southwestern shift passage. Initially, three hundred frigates, destroyers, and light cruisers spread out, their active sensors on full power as they searched for hidden dangers. Further into the system, the stealth drones Jonathan had already launched also began detecting Karacknid frigates passing them in stealth.

Then, just ten minutes later, more ships began jumping into the system. The number of ships being picked up by Supernova's passive sensors kept rising until they stopped at eight thousand four hundred.

“They’ve brought every ship they must have had in and around both border fleet bases,” O’Kane commented.

“So it seems,” Jonathan said. “The more, the merrier. I’d rather deal with them all now than have a bunch of squadrons in our rear to worry about.”

“Their leading stealth frigates will likely start to close with ours in another hour or so,” Iso said. “Do you want to reveal ourselves before then?”

“Yes. Scott and Shraw should be in position by the time we fall back. There's no need to drag this out any longer than necessary. Bring the fleet to full thrust for thirty seconds, then slow us again.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Iso responded.

Moments later, Jonathan’s hidden fleet came alive. Five thousand ships announced themselves to every gravimetric sensor in the system as they went to full acceleration. Then, they disappeared again as their acceleration ceased. Jonathan shared a glance with O’Kane and smiled. “I would love to know what they’re thinking.”

“Aye, it would be interesting to be a fly on their bridge right about now,” O’Kane agreed.

The Karacknid commander had to know the Allied fleet was far larger than five thousand warships. So why, he must be wondering, had Jonathan just revealed his fleet? Just seconds after Jonathan's ships eased off their acceleration, hundreds of frigates and active recon drones broke away from the Karacknid fleet. Understandably, the Gal-tak commander suspected a trap. Normally, that was just the kind of thing Jonathan might have planned. Yet this time there were no tricks. Jonathan’s fleet had only one goal: they were going to sit in position and delay the Karacknids for as long as possible.

For two hours, the Gal-tak fleet cautiously moved into the system toward Supernova's position while stealth and active recon drones tried to penetrate the Allied fleet’s formation. Stealth frigates and destroyers also tried to get close enough to get a good look at the Allied fleet’s numbers, and several single-ship battles were fought as Jonathan’s picket ships drove them away. Throughout the rest of the system, even more recon drones and frigates searched for hidden Allied ships. Yet the Karacknids didn’t find any.

Eventually, the Gal-tak fleet came to a halt in front of Jonathan’s fleet as they continued looking for danger. For another hour, they searched in vain for signs of a trap. Finally, the Karacknid commander accepted what his scouts were telling him—there were no other Allied ships in the system. With an order, his fleet started moving towards the northern shift passage once again.

“It looks like he’s done waiting,” O’Kane said.

“Then so are we,” Jonathan responded. “Take us back toward the shift passage, thirty percent maximum thrust.”

As soon as Jonathan’s ships started moving, the Karacknid fleet increased their acceleration rates as well. “I’d say they’ve figured out what we’re doing,” Harte said. “They won’t be quite so cautious in the next system.”

Jonathan nodded. That was his plan. The entire point of confronting the Karacknid fleet was to make them think O’Kane’s fleet was simply a blocking force. While O’Kane kept the border fleets from moving north, Jonathan hoped the enemy commander would think the bulk of the Allied fleet was continuing its advance toward his clan’s main administrative systems. On paper, all O’Kane had to do was to slow the border fleets’ advance north while keeping contact with the Karacknids. Unless the Karacknids wanted to completely throw caution to the wind, they would have to advance equally slowly, checking every system for hidden ships or ambushes.

Even then, if they tried to force the issue, Jonathan wasn’t too concerned. Though numerically outnumbered, his fleet was faster than the Karacknids', as their larger battleships and dreadnoughts would slow them down. Plus, Jonathan had made sure to bring many pocket carriers with him, giving him a decent advantage in fighter numbers if it came to a fight. If somehow Jonathan was forced to fight, it would be a close-run thing, but he had no intention of letting that happen. All he had to do was delay the Gal-tak fleets for a day or two, and then he would be ready to give them battle.

“Jump us out as soon as we cross the system’s mass shadow,” he ordered. “I’m sure they’ll be right behind us when we enter the next system.”

For another hour, O’Kane’s fleet gradually moved northward through the system, then they jumped out as soon as they could enter shift space. The moment they did, the Karacknid fleet surged forward more quickly, trying to make up for lost time. Then they jumped into shift space once they crossed the system’s mass shadow.

*

IS Supernova, 4th October 2514 AD, (twenty hours later).

As Jonathan expected, the combined Gal-tak border fleet was right on their heels when they entered the next system. Initially, Jonathan kept his fleet near the shift passage they had emerged from to make it look like he was prepared to engage the Gal-taks. However, as soon as their fleet pushed forward in strength, he gave O’Kane the order to run. Using their speed advantage, the Allied fleet rushed through the system and opened up a good distance from their pursuers. The Gal-taks moved cautiously at first, but then sped up as they became increasingly sure there were no additional hidden Allied ships.

“All right, turn us around,” Jonathan said when O’Kane’s ships reached the system’s northeastern shift passage. The Allied fleet did as Jonathan commanded and then settled into a defensive formation. For all intents and purposes, it looked like they were preparing to stand and fight for real this time. “Begin deploying our surprises,” Jonathan instructed when he was sure enough stealth frigates and cruisers had been deployed ahead of his fleet to ensure no Karacknids got close enough to see what was happening.

Once everything was in position, it was just a matter of waiting. Jonathan almost felt sorry for the Karacknids. There was no way they could know what was coming. As far as their scouts could tell, there were no hidden forces waiting to ambush them within the system. That was because there weren’t any—within the system, that was. Jonathan remembered one of the oldest adages he had learned at the Naval Academy: never let your enemy choose the battlefield.

Six days ago, he had quickly identified the advantage this system gave his forces. Unbeknownst to the Karacknids—or at least to Tanaka-lan, and Jonathan was all but sure that if Tanaka-lan didn’t know, then none of the Karacknid clans did—there were many hidden shift passages crisscrossing through their empire. For centuries, the Kalassai had used them to avoid being hunted to extinction by the Karacknids. The passages had remained hidden because they didn’t reach any of the Karacknid systems. Many did, however, end not far from those systems. In the case of the system Jonathan was in, it was close enough to make his plan viable.

The first warning the Karacknid clan fleet got that it was in trouble was when thousands of ships suddenly jumped out of shift space. However, they did so at a point more than a light-hour beyond the system’s mass shadow—at a point in space where there weren’t supposed to be any shift passages. As Scott’s and Reverus’ fleets jumped out of the hidden shift passage, they immediately began to accelerate to cut off the Karacknid fleet’s escape. Their timing was perfect. The Gal-tak fleet had already come too far into the system; they couldn’t turn back.

As the different trajectories of each fleet were projected on Supernova’s main display, it was clear the Karacknids were going to be crushed between both Allied formations. Jonathan had executed a perfect hammer and anvil. His and O’Kane’s fleet would be the anvil, while Scott and Reverus smashed into the Karacknids from behind. Almost perfect, Jonathan corrected himself. The timing wasn’t exactly flawless. Trying to carry out such a maneuver across the size of an entire solar system was very tricky. The display clearly showed that if the Karacknid fleet charged now, they could hit Jonathan’s fleet before Scott and Reverus could fully catch them.

The tension around Jonathan quickly ramped up as everyone watched to see what the Karacknids would do. It took just two minutes for the Karacknid commander to come to a decision. What he chose was clear to everyone when the eight-thousand-strong enemy fleet began to surge toward Supernova.

Jonathan smiled. “He’s taking the bait again,” he said as he shared looks with O’Kane and Iso. “Let’s get ready for them!”

“Aye, Admiral,” Iso said.

Immediately, feigning fear, the Allied fleet began to fall back, drawing the Karacknids onto them. Small skirmishes began to erupt as hidden Allied warships ambushed stealthed Karacknid frigates. However, quickly, the number of stealthed Karacknid ships began to take their toll, and Allied ships started getting caught out too. Then the screening squadrons of both fleets started to engage each other. Neither side wanted to fully commit to a battle, but single salvos were exchanged here and there.

Over the next half-hour, the Karacknid commander fed more light ships into the skirmishes. “Pull our screening squadrons back,” Jonathan ordered when it reached the point he felt they were going to take more losses than needed.

As the squadrons of light cruisers, destroyers, and frigates turned and raced away from the Gal-tak fleet, they did something the Karacknids didn’t detect. Each ship extended the electromagnetic fields that usually shaped their shields far out ahead of their noses. As they passed through the area of space Jonathan’s fleet had occupied an hour ago, many small objects detected the fields, recognized their frequencies, and remained dormant.

The opposite happened as the Gal-tak screening squadrons entered the same area. Jonathan found himself leaning forward in his command chair in anticipation. For almost a minute, he waited. Just as he began to think that maybe something had gone wrong, Jonathan resisted the temptation to cast a questioning glance at Iso. The preparations had been perfect. There was no reason to doubt what was about to happen.

Sure enough, just twenty seconds later, the first stealth mine activated. The mine had detected a Karacknid frigate passing close to it. As soon as its passive sensors confirmed it was tracking an enemy ship, its capacitor dumped energy into its active sensors and maneuvering thrusters. In less than a second, the mine locked onto the frigate. It took another half-second for it to reorient itself. Then, its capacitor dumped the remaining energy into a single-use laser cannon.

Less than a second after alarms started blaring on the frigate’s bridge, the beam smashed into the small warship. It easily punched through its thin valstronium armor, melting internal bulkheads and decks into slag before blasting out the other side. Moments later, the frigate's reactors carried out an emergency shutdown, and its engines and maneuvering thrusters lost power. On Imperial’s bridge, the frigate disappeared from the holo display.

The tension all around Jonathan immediately eased. The minefield was functional! Before any of the other Karacknid screening ships could react, more mines began to activate. At first, it was just one or two, but within seconds, ten had gone active and fired. In the space of twenty seconds, well over two hundred mines had acquired targets and unleashed their firepower.

Their impact was devastating. Over five hundred Karacknid warships were spread out ahead of the main Gal-tak fleet, divided into seven screening squadrons. In the space of thirty seconds, one hundred and forty ships were blown apart or crippled.

Just as importantly, the surprise attack left the rest of the screening forces reeling. Every ship blasted its engines at full power as they tried to arrest the momentum that was carrying them deeper into the deadly minefield. For all of them, it was too late. Over the course of the next two minutes, each and every Karacknid screening ship came too close to one of the mines O’Kane’s forces had dropped and succumbed to its fire.

After the first few enemy deaths, Jonathan’s focus had already shifted away from the doomed screening squadrons. Instead, he watched the main Gal-tak fleet. Now you know we didn’t make a mistake, he thought toward his enemy. Jonathan’s hammer and anvil had been perfectly executed—only the anvil wasn’t just his ships; it was the minefield he had laid out directly in front of the Gal-tak fleet. With Scott’s and Reverus’ fleets still charging in behind the Gal-taks, the only way they could now avoid the minefield was to turn and fight the much larger Allied force.

"Ready our fighters," Jonathan ordered. "Start launching them and have them form up. We'll send them in with the first salvo Scott fires."

"Right away, Admiral," Iso said.

"Admiral, look," O'Kane suddenly said, his voice full of concern.

Jonathan glanced from Iso to O'Kane, saw the worry on his face, and quickly spun back to the main holo display. The Gal-tak fleet had immediately begun to decelerate after the first mine launched its attack. But now, they were accelerating again!

"They're calling our bluff!" O'Kane said. "They're going to push through the minefield!"

Jonathan's shoulders slumped as a sudden dread came over him. The minefield O'Kane's ships had laid was thick, but its density was far from that of the minefields around the Empire's border forts, which had been prepared over the course of weeks or months. That shouldn't have mattered, though—what commander in his right mind would knowingly charge his fleet into a minefield? Jonathan had thought the Gal-tak commander would turn back and fight Scott’s fleet, choosing to take as many Allied ships with him as he could, rather than sacrifice his ships in a minefield.

He thinks he can still get to us! Jonathan was certain. As if to confirm his thoughts, thousands of fighters began launching from the Gal-tak fleet. They raced ahead of their carriers, moving to strike Jonathan's fleet.

"Prepare the fleet to engage," Jonathan said, shaking off his surprise. "Reform into Delta-three formation. Some of those ships are going to get through the minefield, and we need to be ready for them!"

Why didn’t I bring more ships with me? Jonathan couldn't stop himself asking as Supernova’s bridge burst into a wave of activity. As officers shouted commands to one another, Jonathan couldn’t help but foresee what was about to happen. The Gal-tak fleet will break through the minefield and crash into us. For a moment, Jonathan considered ordering his fleet to jump into shift space. But if he did, then the enemy fleet would escape north to join with their comrades. And then they'll do even more damage later.

Jonathan had no choice. He had to stand and fight on the battlefield he had chosen.

Chapter 10

The best commanders are always adaptable. Often, they have learned the hard way that even the best-laid plans are quick to go awry.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Jonathan’s sinking feeling deepened when the Gal-tak fleet entered the minefield. Immediately, their ships began launching streams of antimatter missiles from their tubes. In pulses, the antimatter warheads detonated ahead of the Karacknid ships, clearing paths for them. At the same time, streams of small metallic objects were flung out from the ships, creating a wave of debris that struck and destroyed many mines. Additionally, every small and large laser cannon the Gal-tak ships had, began firing low-power beams non-stop, filling space with energy. Not stopping there, the Karacknid frigates, destroyers, and cruisers formed up in front of their larger brethren, preparing to take hits in their place.

These are no ad hoc actions, Jonathan thought. The Gal-tak commander has trained his fleet for a minefield. They’re going to make it through largely intact! Even as mines began to slam laser beams into the Karacknid ships, Jonathan knew his fears were true. Hundreds of Karacknid light ships began to die, yet every time a frigate or destroyer was taken out, another one appeared to take its place, preventing the larger Karacknid ships from being damaged. Here and there, a destroyed light ship might spin out of control, smashing into a Karacknid capital ship, but for the most part, the tactic was working.

Almost as bad, a wave of explosions ahead of the Gal-tak fleet marked where mines were being hit and destroyed by the various tactics the Karacknids were using. It actually looks like the deeper the Gal-taks get into the minefield, the safer it’s becoming for them. Even as hundreds of ships disappeared from Imperial’s sensors, Jonathan’s fear quickly grew.

“Look,” Harte said loudly, “Admiral Scott’s fleet is launching their fighters. They’re moving to support us!”

Sure enough, thousands of fighters were accelerating ahead of Constitution. The number quickly rose to twenty thousand. Scott was sending in her fighters without waiting to fire a missile salvo to aid their attack. Jonathan felt conflicting emotions. He knew Georgia would be at the head of the fighter wing. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t be fighting alone. Yet Scott sending in the fighters unaided told him she, too, knew his fleet was in trouble.

“We can’t sit here and wait for them,” Jonathan said, coming to a decision. “The tactics they’re using to get through the minefield have seriously disrupted their formation. We need to capitalize on that. Harte, send our fighters ahead of the fleet to intercept the Karacknid fighters. Then, they are to push on and strike the Karacknid fleet. Iso, take our fleet into the minefield as well. We’re going to hit them before they emerge from it.”

“We’ll send orders right away, Admiral,” Iso said as Harte nodded.

“We need to clear away the light ships protecting their capital ships so our mines can get at them,” Jonathan said, turning to Harte. “Make sure the pilots know that.”

“Yes, sir,” Harte responded.

For half a minute, no one on Supernova’s bridge spoke as the holo display began updating, showing the new movements of Jonathan’s fleet.

“Three salvos,” O’Kane said in a level voice. “They’ll get off three salvos before Scott’s fighters hit them.”

“Then we’ll have to weather three salvos,” Jonathan said in a louder, more confident voice for everyone on the bridge to hear. “We know what we have to do. Let’s do it.” Inside, Jonathan felt just the opposite. Arrayed in tight formation with Supernova, he had five thousand ships. The Karacknids had lost nearly a thousand to the mines, but even if they lost another thousand, they would still have six thousand. And they have battleships and dreadnoughts, while we just have battlecruisers, Jonathan couldn’t help thinking. Three salvos are going to savage us.

As best he could, Jonathan pushed his fears aside. Instead, he tried to keep his face stoic as his eight thousand fighters crashed into the Gal-tak’s seven thousand. Two waves of anti-fighter missiles passed one another and then slammed into both groups of fighters. Hundreds of missiles scored hits. Then, laser beams and plasma bolts crisscrossed through the rapidly closing space between the fighters. In the blink of an eye, the groups of fighters passed one another. Every fighter then spun its nose one hundred and eighty degrees, firing at their opponents as they moved apart.

When the shooting finished, two thousand Karacknid fighters were gone, along with twelve hundred Allied ones. Both groups of fighters then spun again and pushed their engines back up to full as they raced toward their real targets.

Though Jonathan’s fleet didn’t have to worry about being attacked by mines as it prepared to fend off the Karacknid fighters, Jonathan could still feel the concern building around him on Supernova’s bridge. Karacknid fighters were armed with deadly particle cannons that released streams of matter accelerated to nearly the speed of light. If any ship was struck by one, the results were usually catastrophic.

“Our screening ships are engaging the fighters now,” Harte announced, increasing the tension filling the bridge.

Point-defense frigates and drone cruisers tore into the incoming swarm of enemy fighters. Hundreds were shot down. The Karacknid fighters did their best to dodge the fire, but they largely ignored the small Allied ships. They already had bigger targets picked out.

“The fleet is engaging now,” Harte updated.

Space in front of the fighters was suddenly awash with color as a multitude of different weapons systems opened fire. Flak bursts, arc emitter electrostatic waves, laser beams, plasma bolts, a varied assortment of anti-missile missiles, and an array of other weapons confronted the Karacknid fighters. Hundreds more quickly began to die.

Jonathan was careful to keep his face expressionless as his gaze flicked to the kills-per-minute counter Supernova’s computer was calculating. To get close enough to use their directed mass weapons, the Karacknids had to fly dangerously close. For one hundred and ninety seconds, they would have to survive the Allied fleet’s fire. But we’re not getting enough of them, Jonathan thought as the counter didn’t rise nearly high enough.

Still, there was nothing Jonathan could do but watch as hundreds and then thousands more of the Karacknid fighters were shot down. As they raced closer, it looked like at least fifteen hundred would get close enough to fire their deadly weapons. Jonathan waited until the very last second. “All ships, evasive maneuvers!” he ordered.

As every warship threw itself into corkscrews or other evasive patterns, the effectiveness of the Allied fleet’s defensive fire immediately dropped off. But just a couple of seconds later, the Karacknids fired. Jonathan’s body tensed involuntarily. Hundreds of explosions erupted amidst the Allied fleet. It took Jonathan a couple of seconds to realize Supernova had been spared. As soon as he did, he threw himself back into the battle. “Cease evasive maneuvers! The fleet is to resume firing!”

Next, Jonathan sought out the remaining Karacknid fighters on the holo display. Just as he expected, they were still charging in. They were going to recharge their weapons and fire again. It’s what he would have ordered. For the Gal-tak fleet to get past Jonathan’s, they needed as many Allied ships blown apart as possible.

Though it took a couple of seconds, the Allied gunners quickly realized the Karacknid fighters hadn’t turned to run. Having just seen so many of their sister ships crippled or destroyed, the gunners redoubled their efforts.

Jonathan found himself gripping his command chair tightly. It took thirty seconds for a Karacknid fighter to recharge its particle beam cannon. By then, whatever Karacknid fighters were left would be right in the middle of his fleet. We need to kill them, Jonathan thought as he mentally urged on his gunners.

Though hundreds more Karacknids were shot down, not all were. Seconds before Jonathan reckoned they would be able to fire again, eighty fighters still remained. The number quickly fell to fifty-four, but then they all ceased their evasive maneuvers as they lined their noses up on Allied capital ships. Jonathan’s knuckles turned white. Even as they released their particle beams, many were blown apart by Allied fire. The dead Karacknid fighters got their revenge half a second later, though. Forty-seven Allied ships were struck by the beams. Two-thirds were sliced in half or simply blown apart from the massive explosions.

Again, Supernova survived being targeted. Knowing many others weren’t so lucky, Jonathan began barking out more orders to spur his staff officers into action. “Launch SAR shuttles. Start assessing the damage reports coming in. I want repair teams transferred over to any ships that need additional help. Let’s get a fix on how many ships we lost. We need to reshape our formation immediately.”

As his officers got to work, Jonathan spared a moment to watch his own fighter attack strike home. With Karacknid ships still being destroyed by mines, their defensive fire was badly hampered. However, many of the Gal-tak capital ships were tightly surrounded by smaller ships, making them very hard for Allied fighters to target. Over twelve hundred of Jonathan’s fighters were shot down as they charged. Then they released laser and grazer beams, followed up by a swarm of missiles. Fourteen thousand Gal-tak ships disappeared from the holo display as the Allied fighters fled to safety.

Jonathan was far from satisfied. In total, it looked like his mines had destroyed about fourteen hundred Gal-tak ships as well. After the fighter attack, that left fifty-two hundred enemy warships still charging down on his fleet’s position. Reluctantly, he turned to Iso. “How bad is it?”

“We have eight hundred and six ships missing, confirmed destroyed or badly crippled, Admiral,” Iso said slowly, only meeting Jonathan’s eyes for the briefest of moments. “Every other ship reports ready for action, though a number have suffered minor damage of one sort or another.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said with a nod, fighting to keep the emotion from his face. Against the Karacknids’ fifty-two hundred ships, he now had forty-two hundred of his own. And they will have an even greater advantage in missile weight, Jonathan knew, for none of his ships would be firing the larger missiles used by battleships and dreadnoughts. We just have to survive three salvos, he reminded himself as he sought out Georgia’s charging fighters that were close to entering the minefield. “Three salvos,” Jonathan said as he raised his voice, repeating what O’Kane had said earlier. “We survive three salvos, and then they die. Let’s show these Karacknids they cannot kill us as easily as they think!”

O’Kane nodded to Jonathan and then began giving orders to his officers as they readied Supernova and O’Kane’s ships to fight again. Jonathan shared a look with Iso and Harte and then started giving out orders too. The first thing he did was choose a new formation for his ships. Then he began selecting targets among the Gal-tak fleet. With so many of their light ships now destroyed, they could finally target their capital ships.

When he had his fleet ready, Jonathan took a breath to calm himself. Then he watched in silence as the Gal-tak charged through the final section of the minefield. A handful more ships died as they ran afoul of the mines’ bomb-pumped laser cannons.

“Open fire,” Jonathan ordered as soon as his ships came into range. The Gal-tak ships fired just seconds later.

With both fleets now closing rapidly with each other, each side would get to fire just two salvos before they had to defend themselves. Four minutes and thirty-four seconds after firing, Supernova shuddered slightly as she released another ninety-six missiles into space. Then her gunners prepared to defend the battlecruiser once again.

Like with the fighters, space lit up as the Allied defensive weapons opened up on the incoming Gal-tak missiles. Then suddenly, without orders, a group of Free Karacknid warships closed in around Supernova, joining the flotilla already protecting Jonathan’s ships.

Anger flared within Jonathan. He knew what the Free Karacknids were doing, but they had broken formation. They had weakened the fleet’s formation at whatever point they had come from. “Hail the senior commander of that force,” Jonathan snapped. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded when the image of a Free Karacknid Commodore appeared before him.

The Karacknid bowed his head deeply to Jonathan. “Imperator, I apologize for my actions, but General Tasata-su gave me strict orders to protect your flagship if the fighting became fierce. He said you would not be pleased but to protect you anyway.”

“And what of the ships in our formation you just left to defend themselves?” Jonathan pressed.

“They are other ships in my squadron, Imperator. They are happy to take an added risk to see your flagship better protected.”

Jonathan snarled. Then he became aware that most of Supernova’s bridge officers were watching him. They didn’t need the distraction. “It’s okay, Commodore,” Jonathan said, waving a dismissive hand toward the Karacknid. “We will speak of this after the battle.” Jonathan then raised a hand and pointed at the main display, which showed a rapidly approaching wave of fireballs where the leading enemy missiles were being blown apart. “Focus on the threat in front of us,” he ordered his officers.

Thirty seconds later, the explosions rushed right up to the Allied fleet, and then far larger antimatter explosions began to erupt. Any missile that came near Supernova was shot down by an overwhelming amount of defensive fire. However, many other ships in the fleet weren’t so lucky.

When the explosions ceased, Jonathan immediately focused on reorganizing his fleet so they could fire their third volley of missiles. When the missiles were away, he turned to deal with the losses he had already suffered. He couldn’t help wincing when he saw that two hundred and eighty ships were missing from his fleet’s order of battle. Glancing at a secondary display that showed his fleet, Jonathan ground his teeth together. Sure enough, many ships were falling out of formation, debris streaming from them. Others simply floated, dead in space, already turned into unsalvageable wrecks. Of many more, there simply was no trace.

With the numerical advantage in ships and an even greater advantage in defensive weapons, the Karacknids handled the Allied salvo far more easily. Just two hundred missiles penetrated their defensive fire, and only half of them scored hits. Seventy ships were destroyed or damaged enough to take them out of the fight.

With just a handful of minutes before the next enemy salvo struck home, Jonathan and his officers barely had enough time to plug the holes in their defensive formation and begin recovery operations for the crews on the most damaged ships. Then, another one hundred and sixty thousand missiles were upon them. Once again, far too many penetrated the Allied fleet’s defensive fire, and antimatter missiles began striking Allied warships. Over three hundred ships were destroyed or crippled, fueling Jonathan’s anger at the Gal-taks and at himself for putting his ships in such a vulnerable position.

This time, though, as Jonathan watched his second salvo smash into the Gal-tak fleet, he got some satisfaction. His missiles themselves did little damage, but right after one hundred and fifty of them exploded amidst the Gal-tak fleet, Georgia’s twenty thousand fighters slammed into the back of the Karacknids. Enemy fire shot down at least three thousand of the Allied fighters before they could open fire. However, when the fighters started shooting, they rained destruction upon the Gal-taks.

Thousands of ships were ripped open by laser and grazer beams. Then, over ten thousand missiles punched through the faltering Karacknid defensive fire. So many antimatter warheads detonated that the entire Gal-tak fleet disappeared as it was enveloped in one huge hue of blue antimatter.

As Georgia’s fighters pulled away and the antimatter dissipated, only a shadow of the Gal-tak fleet reappeared on Supernova’s main display. Less than two thousand ships appeared to be functional. By the time they got over the shock of all their losses and re-established their command structure, Jonathan’s third missile salvo struck them. A thousand more ships succumbed to Jonathan’s fire.

Even as they died, however, the final full-strength Gal-tak salvo savaged Jonathan’s fleet. Once again, hundreds of missiles breached the fleet’s defensive fire. When the explosions ceased, three hundred and thirty-six Allied ships were no more.

As his final salvo slammed into the Gal-tak survivors and finished them off, Jonathan felt little satisfaction. His own losses dominated his thoughts. His and O’Kane’s fleet had meant to be the distraction only. Scott’s and Reverus’ twenty thousand ships were supposed to have been the ones that crashed into the Gal-taks. He had underestimated his enemy, and now nearly two thousand ships and well over two hundred thousand of his people were dead because of it.

Though Jonathan threw himself into helping his officers recover as many damaged ships and their crews as they could, his mind kept replaying the three large salvos that had ravaged his ships. Each time, his guilt grew, and his self-confidence fell.

“As soon as Scott and Reverus’ ships join us, we will head north,” Jonathan said to Iso when there were no more stranded crew they could rescue. “You can begin preparations for us to transfer back over to the Imperial when she gets here.” He then turned to O’Kane. “I’ll be assigning you additional ships to make up for your losses here, Rear Admiral. As soon as you can, I want you advancing as far north as possible.”

“Certainly, Admiral,” O’Kane said solemnly, sensing Jonathan’s mood.

Though he knew they had won a victory despite the losses, as Jonathan stood up from his command chair to leave Supernova, he couldn’t help feeling like he was running away from the scene of a failure.

*

IS Imperial, (four hours later)

“I owe the fleet an apology,” Jonathan said as he spoke to the holographic faces of his senior commanders. They were arrayed around the small conference desk in his office. “I should have had a larger force with me, one able to take on the Gal-tak fleet by itself in case it was necessary. Or at least hidden more ships where we planned the battle to take place. I didn’t think they would try and push through our minefield. I failed all those who died today.”

Jonathan looked around at his officers; none held his gaze for very long. He took it as confirmation that they agreed with him. For several seconds, no one spoke, causing Jonathan’s guilt to take an even tighter grip on him.

Reverus was the first to speak. “If this battle is to be counted as a failure, though I do not believe that it is, then the failure is all of ours. We all discussed this plan extensively. We all agreed to it. None of us foresaw what ended up happening. Of that, we are all guilty. And yet, today was not a defeat. Far from it, in fact. We have destroyed another eight thousand enemy warships. That is something to be proud of. Today was a significant step in defeating the Gal-tak clan.”

“I agree,” Scott said firmly. “Yes, we took losses, but we still destroyed their fleet with a loss ratio of four to one. At any other point in this war, we would have grabbed that with open arms. Now, we can focus all our advance northward, assured by the fact that our flanks and rear are secured. I know we suffered many casualties today, but what we accomplished was worth the losses.”

Jonathan didn’t look up to meet Reverus or Scott’s eyes as they spoke. He didn’t want them defending him.

“We can mourn our losses when all this is over, Imperator,” Tasata-su said in the typically emotionless tone he often used when not contemplating an upcoming battle. “Now is the time to continue onwards and press home our advantages,” he continued, his voice rising. “Your fleet fought admirably against greater numbers. The dead won honor for themselves today.”

“We would all be dead if it weren’t for Georgia’s fighters,” Jonathan responded. This time, he did look up and give his sister a nod. “All the ships in my fleet owe you their lives, as I do. They would have died following me if not for your intervention.”

Surprise and concern flashed across Georgia’s face. “We all fought in this battle together, brother. Our losses are no more your fault than the losses any of our commands have suffered in this war. Our enemy is never going to just roll over and die easily for us.”

“Wing Commander Somerville is right, Admiral. No plan survives contact with the enemy—you know this as well as any of us,” Shraw insisted. “Your father suffered more serious losses and even actual defeats. We cannot expect every battle to go exactly as we wish. We fought two perfect battles against their border fleets. Now, we have suffered more losses, yes, but this was always going to happen sooner or later.”

“Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that it has happened now,” Reverus added. “After Tanaka-lan’s death and Admiral Scott’s successful campaign pursuing the remnants of his battlefleet through The Wilds, we’ve become too confident in our numbers and our enemy’s divisions. Today has been a timely reminder. We cannot become overconfident.”

“No, we cannot,” Jonathan said, his voice full of emotion. “We cannot let what happened today happen again. Too many more such victories and our strength will be bled away before we’ve advanced far enough to properly cripple the Karacknid Empire’s ability to wage war. We cannot suffer another battle like this again.” I cannot let the fleet suffer another one, Jonathan added to himself.

“Then let us learn the lesson and continue our advance,” Shraw said. “The reports from our forward scouts are promising. There are still no blocking fleets moving south from the Gal-tak’s administrative worlds. If we can reach their worlds before they’re fully prepared for us, we will have them at a serious disadvantage.”

“Rear Admiral O’Kane is already preparing to depart,” Iso said.

“We should detach several more powerful squadrons to screen us as well,” Reverus suggested. “If we can mask our line of advance, it will make it harder for the Gal-tak to form a blocking force. Plus, the deeper we get into Gal-tak territory, the more built-up their systems are. Raiding more industrial nodes can only be a good thing.”

“I concur,” Scott said. “Rear Admiral Jenkins would be ideal to lead a second powerful screening squadron.”

Jonathan remained silent as his officers began discussing different commanders and debated which would be the best route to use to continue their advance north. As a general consensus formed, he nodded or spoke as few words as possible to give his consent. With a gesture, he gave his approval to Iso to draw up the agreed-upon orders.

Though he knew it was vital to continue moving north as soon as possible—and, deep down, he was as keen as ever to defeat the Gal-tak and the other clans—he couldn’t shake his self-doubts and guilt. When it felt like the meeting had come to a close, Jonathan, with as few words as possible, thanked his officers for their input and then dismissed them.

As the faces of his senior officers began to disappear from the holo conference, Jonathan caught Scott and Georgia sharing a look with one another. He wasn’t surprised to see they were still staring at him once everyone else had left. Scott then leaned forward and tapped a button on her command chair. A moment later, her and Georgia’s heads disappeared from Supernova’s main display and reappeared right by Jonathan as his command chair’s display projected them.

As Scott spoke, she lowered her voice enough that Jonathan thought only he, and maybe O’Kane and Iso, could hear. “Are you really alright, Jonathan? You can’t beat yourself up about this. We were never going to win every battle as cleanly as the first two.”

“Yeah, brother, you did your best,” Georgia said. “We are going to take losses in this campaign. It’s inevitable.” Georgia then leaned in and spoke a little quieter. “We’re even likely to lose a battle or two. When we do, we need a commander who will give us all hope again, not one who focuses on blaming himself.”

Jonathan grimaced as his eyes darted towards O’Kane and Iso. Neither were looking in his direction, but he wasn’t sure if they truly weren’t listening, or if they were just trying to make it look like they weren’t. “I’m fine,” he insisted quietly. “I’m sorry I can’t be as happy as you two when we’ve just lost so many ships needlessly.”

“We feel the losses too,” Scott said, a more serious tone entering her voice. “Your father was the same, Jonathan. I can see it in you. There’s a difference between feeling the losses and letting them dominate your emotions. This is another one of the burdens of command. We must learn to accept our own failures and learn from them, not dwell on them so much that they lead to more.”

When Jonathan didn’t reply, Scott continued. “Think about it this way. You know no plan survives contact with the enemy. Sooner or later, we were going to suffer heavy losses. Far better it be now in a small battle than in one far larger. Now we’ll all be more cautious in the future. Will we not?”

Again, Jonathan didn’t reply, but Scott and Georgia kept staring at him until he finally gave in. “Yes, of course you’re right. I was getting too cocky; I see that now. We’ll have to be even more careful in the future.”

“And yet still be willing to take risks,” Georgia demanded. “Everyone in the fleet has signed up to risk their lives to defeat the Karacknids. If we need to take risks, you need to be ready to take them—even if it means potentially sending Scott and me to our deaths. We’re all here to do whatever it takes. That was the oath you gave at your coronation.”

And that is what Father did, Jonathan felt Georgia think, even if she didn’t say it. As he remembered the words he had spoken to the entire Empire at his coronation, Jonathan nodded to himself. He had given his oath. He couldn’t let anything get in the way of fulfilling it. He had to succeed, for his people, and for his wife and unborn son! “You’re both right,” Jonathan said as he felt his resolve begin to break through the gloom that had settled upon him. “Thank you. I need to keep my focus. I guess it’s something I’ll need to work on.”

“And don’t worry, while you do, we’ll always be here to keep you right,” Georgia said with a smile.

“What she means is we’ll respectfully give you the advice you need, Emperor,” Scott said, casting Georgia a scathing look.

For a second, Jonathan thought Georgia was going to stick her tongue out at her superior, but she held herself back. “Thank you, both of you,” Jonathan repeated warmly. “Now, back to your responsibilities. We all have much to do.”

Chapter 11

Emperor Jonathan Somerville attempted something most others had deemed unthinkable. What followed was even more unbelievable. Its success has shaped the makeup of the Empire ever since.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 29th October 2514 AD, (twenty-five days later).

Three and a half weeks later, Jonathan was once again sitting in his office. This time he had gathered his senior commanders in person. They were all studying a star map of the five key Gal-tak administrative systems and the other surrounding systems. After a rapid advance, during which they had conquered or raided thirteen systems and fought off several squadrons of enemy warships, they had finally reached the main objective of the first phase of their invasion. Now, they had to figure out how to proceed.

Each of the five administrative systems was home to worlds the Gal-tak clan had colonized themselves. While most of the rest of their clan territory consisted of worlds owned by other sentient species, or worlds colonized by Karacknid families loyal to the Gal-tak clan, this was the heart of the Gal-tak territory.

Almost a quarter of the Gal-tak civilian population lived on the five worlds. More than half of their shipbuilding capacity was in orbit around them, and it was from these five interconnected systems that the Gal-tak administered their vast territory. Altogether, the Gal-tak ruled over three hundred other systems with inhabited worlds and more than two thousand more with some form of mining operations. Taking out these five worlds and the Gal-tak clan's leadership would cripple the rest of their territory's ability to wage war.

"So," Jonathan said as his gathered officers stared at the star map, which contained all the latest intel his fleet's scouts had gathered. "For once, we clearly have our enemy at a disadvantage. How are we going to proceed?"

The disadvantage Jonathan referred to was the one every defender faced. The display showed the Gal-tak clan had twelve thousand warships defending their administrative worlds. Yet, spread across five systems, that wasn’t a very strong force. Especially since, from the Allied fleet's current location, they could quickly strike at three of the five worlds and, with just an extra two days' travel, hit the other two as well. While Jonathan could keep his fleet together, the Gal-tak forces had no choice but to divide theirs—at least somewhat. Ten thousand warships were gathered around their capital colony, where the clan's Lord was based. The rest were split between the other four worlds.

"We have the advantage for now," Reverus cautioned. "Gal-tak's Lord has known for several weeks now that we're coming for his worlds. He’s also likely aware that we destroyed all his border fleets. He will have recalled all his forces from his borders with the other clans."

Jonathan nodded. The star map showed as much. Three small groups were flashing on it, each representing a Gal-tak squadron that had been detected heading south or east toward the administrative worlds. There were no doubt other larger forces also on the move that his scouts had not yet detected.

"Then we need to act quickly and decisively," Shraw responded.

"And encourage our enemy to further split their forces," Scott added.

Jonathan caught the gleam in her eye. "What are you thinking?"

Scott nodded to Tasata-su. "The General and I have been talking. Apart from your father's brief landing on Gayla during the First Karacknid War, no Karacknid-colonized planet has been conquered by ground troops. In both wars, every attack we've made on key Karacknid worlds has only focused on destroying orbital and ground-based industrial facilities. So, what if we start landing troops on their administrative worlds?"

"You think they will send their main fleet out to counter a landing?" Reverus asked.

Scott looked to Tasata-su. The Karacknid nodded. “I believe so, especially if we give them a little encouragement. A speech from our Imperator declaring the worlds and all their populace now belong to him would do it.”

“But they would have to know it’s a trap,” Jonathan countered. “They have their forces concentrated around their capital for a reason. They know it’s their most important world.”

“But they don’t know how many ships we have,” Tasata-su answered. “And if they think you’re leading an invasion of one of their worlds, they’ll assume the bulk of our fleet will be there.”

“Especially if we hit another one of their worlds as well,” Scott added. “If they see us splitting our fleet, the Clan Lord will be tempted to try and defeat one of our fleets.”

Jonathan nodded as Scott’s plan began to take shape in his mind. “How many ships are you thinking?”

“Eight thousand each,” Scott said. “Enough to easily take on each planet’s defenses, but not so many that it scares off the enemy’s main fleet.”

“And how do we hide our reinforcements? They’ll still suspect a trap,” Shraw said. “They’d be fools not to.”

Scott smiled. “That’s the fun part. We hide them right where they’ll least expect!”

As Scott explained, Jonathan found himself grinning. It was just the kind of strategy someone trained by his father would come up with! He turned to Johnston. “How about it, General? To make it look real, your forces will have to carry out an actual landing.”

“That’s what we’ve been training for,” Johnston said. “I doubt this will be our last landing either, so we may as well get good at it now!”

Jonathan nodded. It was settled. “Then let’s prepare to take our first proper Karacknid colony,” he said as he looked around at his commanders, feeling the weight of his words. Their real work was only just beginning.

*

IS Imperial, Gravisar System, 31st October 2514 AD, (two days later).

With eight thousand warships arrayed around his flagship, Jonathan and Imperial led their fleet into the Gal-tak system known as Gravisar. Their target was the colony of Grvasan. Six hundred warships and over a thousand large battlestations defended the colony, which was home to over a billion Karacknids.

As he watched the defenders prepare to come under attack, Jonathan’s eyes kept drifting to the cities below the orbital stations. Once, Humanity had thought Karacknid society consisted only of their warrior class. Now, thanks to the Free Karacknids, they knew there were far more civilians than actual warriors. However, every adult Karacknid had razor-sharp claws and their warrior instincts, meaning they could prove deadly to an Imperial Marine if it came to that. Though Johnston was confident his forces could land on the planet and gain a measure of control, Jonathan had his doubts. After witnessing the massacre of hundreds of thousands of Silizzarus civilians at Anasconda, he didn’t want to see the same happen here.

But we have to take and secure Karacknid colonies if we’re to defeat them, he reminded himself. Either the Karacknid civilians would have to be subdued, or the Allies would end up having to keep squadrons in orbit over every Karacknid world across their entire empire.

“They’re launching fighters,” Harte announced. “Looks like they want to line up a strike with their first salvo.”

“Let’s make them think again,” Jonathan ordered as his mind refocused on the battle he had to win before any troops could make it to the planet’s surface.

“Aye, Admiral,” Harte responded, not needing any more instructions.

From the Allied carriers, four thousand fighters shot forward and raced towards the Karacknid colony, making it look like they were going to strike the orbital battlestations before they could open fire on the Allied fleet. Not willing to allow such an attack, the Karacknids dispatched their fighters to intercept the Allied force. Outnumbered two to one, the Karacknid fighters put up a good fight but were ultimately overwhelmed. Just four hundred limped back towards their hangars when Jonathan gave the order for his fighters to pull back. Even if the Karacknid fighters tried to attack his ships now, their numbers would be too small to pose a real threat.

With the main threat to his fleet eliminated, Jonathan gave the order for his fleet to move into long-range missile range. Iso expertly brought the fleet in on a trajectory that would allow both sides to fire just one missile salvo at each other before the Allied fleet moved out of range again. As the first Allied salvo was fired, an additional eight thousand fighters charged in after them.

Though the Gal-tak battlestations were large and impressive, they were never designed to defend the planet from an enemy fleet by themselves. With just eight hundred warships assisting them, they stood no chance against Jonathan’s fleet. In a protracted long-range missile duel, they would have been able to absorb a lot of damage before being destroyed, and could have fired many missiles back at the attacking fleet. Yet Jonathan had no intention of allowing that.

When his single salvo of two hundred and twenty thousand missiles struck the colony’s defenders, over sixteen hundred breached the impressive battlestations' defenses. A third of the Karacknid warships and a fifth of the battlestations were taken out of the fight. Then the fighters swooped in to attack. Another couple of hundred battlestations were destroyed, and almost all of the Gal-tak warships were blown apart.

Jonathan’s fleet had to face just one hundred and twenty thousand missiles, yet one hundred thousand of them were fired by the battlestations. Larger than even the missiles fired by Karacknid dreadnoughts, they had impressive ECM capabilities. Only a handful punched through the Allied defensive fire, but as they detonated, they demonstrated equally impressive warheads. Massive antimatter detonations enveloped the ships they hit, completely wrecking them. On more than one occasion, the explosive energies released as matter and antimatter annihilated each other were so great that they took out other nearby ships as well.

Though the losses were expected, Jonathan grimaced at them, nonetheless. Each one represented hundreds, if not thousands, of bereaved families.

As soon as the last missiles from both salvos detonated, Iso began to slow and turn the Allied fleet. They waited for over an hour as their fighters landed, refueled, and rearmed, then the fleet began maneuvering once again. Repeating the same strategy, Iso brought the fleet into maximum missile range for another single salvo. This time, while the Allied fleet’s missile count had been reduced by just a couple of thousand, the Gal-tak defenders released only sixty-four thousand missiles at their enemies. Once again, an attack wing of Allied fighters accompanied the assault on the orbital defenses.

The second exchange proved even deadlier for the defenders. Half of the remaining battlestations were destroyed at the cost of less than fifty Allied warships. By the time Iso had repeated the maneuver twice more, the orbital defenses were no more.

As soon as it was safe, Jonathan gave the order for his fleet to move into low orbit around the colony. Then, ignoring the remaining orbital stations, Johnston’s landing forces began their assault on the planet. “Time to play my part,” Jonathan said as he nodded to Rossi.

When she gestured that a COM channel was open, Jonathan spoke to the Karacknids living on the planet below his flagship. “Karacknid people of Grvasan and the Gal-tak clan. I am Imperator Jonathan Somerville. I claim this planet as my own by right of conquest. Your clan sent an invasion fleet against my species’ worlds. You fought alongside the now-dead Imperator Tanaka-lan. My father killed him in Trava-klan. Now, as his rightful heir, I claim this planet and your allegiance. Resist my forces, and you will die. Bow the knee, and you will be allowed to live. Renounce your loyalty to Lord Trevsan, and you and the Gal-tak clan can join the hundreds of thousands of Karacknid warriors already fighting under my banner.”

Pausing for a moment, Jonathan looked at the recorder seriously and then leaned forward slightly. “I know your forces will try to resist my troops as they land. That is your right, but soon you will know that I am not like your previous Imperator. I do not lose. Your Clan Lord has already abandoned you, and soon you will be mine.” Jonathan smiled at all those listening to him. “The choice is whether you will bow the knee willingly or at the end of a plasma rifle.”

Done, Jonathan gestured to Rossi to stop recording. “Well?” he asked Iso, Harte, and Matthis.

“I think that will rile up Lord Trevsan,” Matthis said. “Though I’m not sure what General Johnston’s troops will think when they hear it, for it’s bound to rile up the planet’s defenders too.”

Jonathan nodded. “An unavoidable consequence, I’m afraid.” He had already spoken to Johnston about that. It was likely the Karacknid warriors defending the planet were going to fight as hard as they could anyway, but his words would probably give them just that little bit more motivation.

“I think we’re ready to begin the bombardment,” Harte said, drawing Jonathan’s attention away from his short speech.

“Proceed,” Jonathan said with a nod. He then settled into his command chair as he watched tungsten spears and Allied shuttles pass through the planet’s atmosphere. The tungsten spears struck every military facility and ground troop formation Harte and his analysts had been able to identify. The shuttles landed near one of the planet’s smaller cities and two of its most important industrial nodes. The assault was meant to look like the marines and Free Karacknid warriors were trying to secure several bridgeheads from which they could advance on the rest of the planet. Of course, the attack was largely for show, though the more Karacknid warriors on the planet’s surface they could weaken, the easier it might be to conquer in the weeks ahead.

With the prolonged battle against the orbital battlestations and now his message transmitted across the system, Jonathan hoped news of their attack would soon be on its way to the Gal-tak capital world. If the Clan Lord wanted to keep what was left of his rule intact, he would have to respond. From what Tasata-su had told Jonathan, if he didn’t, he would all but be inviting his rivals to challenge him for leadership of the clan. Already, Allied fleets had breached his border systems, destroyed his border forts, and raided many of his most important resource mining worlds. If he didn’t stand up and defend his worlds now, what kind of leader would he be?

Let’s just hope he comes here, Jonathan thought to himself. On the far side of the Gal-tak capital system, at this very moment, Admiral Shraw was repeating the strategy Iso had just deployed to destroy the orbital defenses of another one of the administrative worlds. He too would be landing troops to make it look like they intended to take the planet. Jonathan hoped his words would lure the Gal-tak clan leader to face him, but if he didn’t, Scott’s plan would work all the same. Even so, Jonathan wanted to be the one to face the leader of the clan who had sent so many thousands of warships to invade his people's worlds.

Chapter 12

In order to understand the Antarian War, or any of those that came before it, modern cadets must change their way of thinking about how wars of maneuver are fought. For when both sides were confined to the limitations imposed by the use of shift passages to travel between systems, things were very different.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Constitution, Sadarson System, (twenty-seven hours later).

With each of the five Gal-tak administrative worlds so close together, there was a constant stream of ships jumping in and out of shift space along the three shift passages that connected the Sadarson system with the other administrative worlds. Any ship arriving from either Gravisar or Ragnasar could be bringing news that those systems were under attack. Admiral Scott sat in her command chair, watching the new arrivals, and waiting for any sign that word had reached the Sadarson colony to tell Lord Trevsan that his other worlds were under assault. So far, nothing had happened, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

When Scott realized several minutes had passed without a ship arriving from the Gravisar system, she sat up in her command chair. “How long since we detected a ship arriving from Gravisar?” she asked her command staff.

“It’s been nine minutes, Admiral,” her tactical officer replied quickly.

“What’s the longest interval we’ve detected before that?”

“Just four minutes, Admiral.”

Scott nodded. “Then I think we can assume Admiral Somerville’s attack has commenced. Now, let’s see what they’re going to do about it.”

Initially, nothing happened. It was likely that quite a few ships entering the system from Gravisar had transmitted warnings about the attack. Even if just the last one had, the Karacknid fleet in orbit around the clan capital would have received the message within three minutes. That meant at least six minutes had passed, and the Gal-tak clan leader hadn’t ordered his forces to break orbit. But there was still plenty of time for that, Scott assured herself.

“Admiral, it looks like traffic from the Ragnasar system has also stopped,” another staff officer reported a few minutes later. “It’s now been seven minutes since the last ship appeared. The longest gap before that was just three.”

“Thank you,” Scott said with a nod to her officer. So he’s deciding which system to aid. At least, that’s what she hoped.

For a full hour, every ship in her fleet, carefully hidden far outside the Sadarson system, watched the Karacknid fleet closely using their passive sensors. Though the ships increased their energy output and thousands of shuttles moved back and forth between them and the planet’s surface, none broke orbit. The longer this inactivity persisted, the more frustrated Scott became. Tasata-su had all but guaranteed that Gal-tak’s Clan Lord would be forced to respond. She was tempted to hail his flagship and double-check with him, but she restrained herself. She knew Karacknid warriors didn’t like their word being questioned. He had said it would happen, so she had to wait.

Finally, when three military ships appeared from the Gravisar system, something happened. All three were frigates, and Scott guessed they were picket ships that had escaped the initial advances of Jonathan’s fleet. Three minutes after their arrival, the Karacknid fleet suddenly sprang into action. All but four hundred warships broke orbit and quickly accelerated on a course for the Gravisar system. Scott smiled.

“They’re going for Admiral Somerville!” she said, delighted. Then she turned more serious. “Now, let’s make sure not a single joule of energy escapes from any of our ships as they pass through the system!”

For three hours, the Karacknid fleet raced across the system. As soon as they crossed the star’s mass shadow and entered the shift passage that led to Gravisar, they disappeared.

"Two hours, and then we make a move," Scott said to her officers. Though eager to act, she knew she had to wait. If she moved right away, the Karacknid frigates still lingering around the Gravisar shift passage would jump out to follow their Lord and warn him of her presence. She had to let the Gal-tak fleet get deep into the Gravisar system before making her move.

Though it was agonizing, Scott stayed seated, watching the clock from her command chair. Her officers, even her Flag Captain, showed signs of nerves, and over the two hours, the bridge grew quieter and quieter. Eventually, the wait was over. The second the countdown on the main display reached zero, Scott sprang into action.

"Bring us out of stealth. Set course for the Gravisar shift passage. Maximum speed. Dispatch Rear Admiral O'Kane's squadron to take out the enemy scouts in our way!"

As soon as the fourteen thousand ships in Constitution's formation powered up their impulse engines, every Karacknid gravimetric sensor in the system detected them. The sudden emergence came as a shock and surprise. For the last eighteen hours, Scott had been slowly and carefully moving her ships around the Sadarson system, outside of its mass shadow, to a point directly between the Gravisar and Ragnasar shift passages. Now, though they were in prime position to strike at the Gal-tak clan’s capital, they instead began to race toward the same shift passage the Gal-tak fleet had disappeared down not long ago.

As Constitution’s main holo display updated to project the flagship’s course, it showed Scott’s fleet would reach the shift passage in another hour. Hold on, Jonathan, she thought, directing her hope toward the boy—now a man—she had always thought of as a nephew. We are coming.

Though most Karacknid ships that detected the Allied fleet could do nothing, the frigates nearest the Gravisar shift passage began to race toward it. Three of the nearest, however, didn’t make it. Two stealth cruisers briefly decloaked to ambush the charging frigates. Torpedoes and plasma bolts obliterated all three. The cruisers then slunk back into stealth before the rest of the frigates could join together and hunt for them. This action delayed news of Scott’s fleet reaching the Karacknid Clan Lord by another twenty minutes.

From deeper within the system, nearly two hundred other Karacknid ships tried to race toward the shift passage to lend whatever strength they could to their Lord’s forces. Yet as Constitution rushed to beat them to the shift passage, O’Kane’s squadron intercepted and heavily mauled half the enemy ships before the rest pulled back. Then O’Kane regrouped with Scott’s ships as they approached the system’s mass shadow. As soon as they could, they jumped into shift space in pursuit of their quarry.

*

IS Imperial, Gravisar System (twenty-one hours later).

“Get our troops back into orbit!” Jonathan ordered the moment Karacknid warships began appearing at the Sadarson shift passage. Though Imperial’s main display only showed a squadron of a couple of hundred enemy ships, he knew what that meant. The Gal-tak Clan Lord had chosen to come after his fleet.

“Transmitting your order to General Johnston now,” Rossi responded immediately.

From the outset of Johnston’s invasion of the Gal-tak world, his forces had known they would likely have to pull out in a hurry. Even so, they couldn’t just abandon their positions recklessly. Despite close orbital support from Jonathan’s ships, Johnston’s marines had come under almost constant counterattack. Within the first twelve hours of the landing, they had secured their three objectives.

Yet units of Karacknid warriors had been using underground passages to attack the marines holding the two industrial facilities. It was worse within the city Johnston had taken. Many Gal-tak warriors had initially gone to ground, and over the last several hours, they had been using the cover of civilian buildings to strike at Johnston’s marines. In many instances, they were accompanied by armed Karacknid civilians. As a result, Johnston had already made it clear to Jonathan that an evacuation would have to be carefully executed to avoid rear-guard units being overrun.

Five minutes after Jonathan gave the order, the first shuttles began to take off from the surface. However, he could only enjoy a few seconds of relief. Fresh alarms caused everyone on Imperial’s bridge to turn from watching the planet to the Sadarson shift passage. The main Gal-tak fleet had entered the system. Ten thousand warships announced themselves as they began accelerating at full military speed toward Imperial.

“He’s throwing caution to the wind,” Matthis commented. “I guess he figures we haven’t had long enough to prepare any surprises within one of his own systems.”

“It’s a fair risk to take,” Jonathan responded, feeling the knot of nerves in his stomach tighten.

Ahead and to the flanks of the Gal-tak fleet, squadrons of destroyers and frigates were spreading out to search for hidden forces just in case. However, since Jonathan’s arrival, there had always been a handful of Karacknid frigates hovering around the edges of the system, watching his fleet. They would have already reported to the Gal-tak Clan Lord that they hadn’t seen any other forces moving into the system. Nor had Jonathan’s ships started deploying a minefield or setting up any other trap. As a result, the Karacknid fleet was projected to reach Imperial’s position in just three hours. By then, Jonathan wanted to be long gone from the planet. Yet, if they could, he wasn’t going to leave any of Johnston’s troops behind.

“I think I’ll inform General Johnston’s staff officers that they’d better hurry things along,” Iso suggested.

Jonathan nodded. Scott was going to be at least two hours behind the Karacknid fleet. We’re going to have to improvise, he told himself as he began to think. With eight thousand warships, he had a sizable force with which to fend off the Gal-tak fleet, but if he engaged, he would be outnumbered. Though Jonathan was again playing the role of hammer to Scott’s anvil, he was determined not to make the same mistakes as last time. This time, he had plenty of room to maneuver within the system. Provided Johnston got his troops off in time, Jonathan planned to use that to his advantage. As more shuttles filled with marines and Free Karacknids raced up to orbit, Jonathan began thinking of ways to keep his opponent where he wanted them.

For a few minutes, Jonathan was able to plan in peace, but then Harte interrupted his thinking. “Admiral, we’re getting troubling reports from the surface.”

“Show me,” Jonathan requested.

“It’s the city, sir,” Harte explained as the holo-image of the Gal-tak world zoomed in on the small city Johnston’s marines had secured. The image showed far more plumes of smoke rising into the air than there had been the last time Jonathan looked. Almost every second, a flash erupted from somewhere within the city.

“The Karacknid attacks on our forces have tripled,” Harte continued. “Several positions have been overrun. General Johnston’s staff has had to deploy two battalions forward to rescue marines that have been encircled.”

Jonathan fought back a grimace. That was the last thing he needed to hear. “What about the two industrial facilities?” he asked. Both were less than fifty kilometers from the city.

“There have been increased attacks, but they’ve been fought off. A few of the attacking groups made the mistake of straying too far from the facilities as they tried to flank them. Tungsten spears ended their attacks before they began,” Harte answered.

“Link us into Johnston’s strategic overlay of the situation in the city,” Jonathan asked next.

A couple of seconds later, the holo display changed from an image of the planet to a square 3D map of the city. Tens of symbols filled the map, depicting the location of every marine unit. Though Jonathan was far from an expert at reading such tactical overlays, he had seen enough in his day to quickly grasp the situation. Johnston’s forces had two secure LZs near the edges of the city. From there, his forces had fought their way into the city to secure key locations. Now they were attempting to pull back in an orderly fashion.

However, a unit of at least three hundred marines—presumably one of the rear guard formations that had been holding the main streets of the city open for other marines to evacuate—had been cut off. Manipulating the image himself, Jonathan pulled up some live feeds from the marines. “I knew it!” he said as his stomach tightened. Hundreds of Karacknid males, not in the typical warrior armor, were assaulting the cut-off marines. Some of the city's population had taken up arms alongside the warriors who had hidden themselves after Johnston’s landing. “They know reinforcements are here. They’re trying to delay our evacuation.”

“Do you have any orders you want me to pass on to General Johnston?” Iso asked.

Reluctantly, Jonathan shook his head. Johnston knew what he was doing far better than Jonathan did. And he knows the stakes. “All we can do is watch,” he said to Iso. And hope.

As two groups of marines moved out from the LZs back into the city, Jonathan’s eyes flicked back and forth between them and the closing Gal-tak fleet. Come on, come on, he couldn’t help but urge the marines as they fought their way back through the city to their trapped comrades.

For the most part, both battalions advanced quickly. The Karacknid attackers were clearly disorganized, and the small groups hadn’t expected a fresh assault from the LZs. However, when one battalion closed in on the Karacknid forces surrounding the stranded marines, it struck first, before the second battalion could engage as well.

“Look, they’re already falling back!” Iso said in surprise.

Jonathan swallowed hard. The first battalion had hit the Karacknids hard but had taken a beating themselves. As Karacknid warriors streamed after them, they fought a retreat through several city blocks. He didn’t understand what he was seeing. Surely it would have made more sense to have both battalions attack different sections of the Karacknids surrounding the stranded marines at the same time to give at least one of them a better chance of breaking through? Around Jonathan, he felt the tension on the bridge rise. Alongside the four hundred marines who had been cut off, another two thousand were now heavily engaged within the city. All the while, the Gal-tak fleet was closing!

But then the second battalion attacked. As they did, out of nowhere, twenty shuttles appeared. They hurled hypervelocity missiles and heavy plasma bolts into the Karacknid civilians that had surrounded the trapped marines. Only then did Jonathan realize what Johnston had done. “It was a diversion!” The first attack had drawn away most of the Karacknid warriors. Now, as the second battalion attacked, and the stranded marines charged out from the single city block they had been pushed into, both forces cut a path to one another. The stranded marines rushed to safety. They had lost one hundred and fifty of their number, but the rest had been saved. More than one officer cheered at the sight.

“Now get out of there as quickly as you can!” Jonathan urged the two battalions. For another minute, he and his officers watched as the battalions fell back toward their respective LZs. Once he was certain they were going to make it, Jonathan refocused his officers. “That’s Johnston’s evacuation plan back on track. Though now we’re going to be very tight for time. Let’s make sure we’re ready to break orbit the moment the last marine shuttles take off.”

“Aye, Admiral, we’re on it,” Iso assured him.

Thirty-five minutes later, the last shuttles carrying Johnston’s rearguard took to the skies. The visuals from the surface showed each LZ immediately being overrun as the final shuttles came under heavy fire. Two were shot down, crashing back to the surface, but thankfully, the rest managed to rapidly accelerate out of reach of the enemy’s fire. Before they even reached the planet’s atmosphere, Jonathan had his fleet moving. The Gal-tak fleet was less than two hours away from reaching the planet and would be able to bring him into missile range long before that if Jonathan didn’t make haste.

“What about the planet's orbitals, Admiral?” Harte asked as the final shuttles began to land on their troop carriers. “Should we take them out?”

Jonathan paused as he considered it. After destroying the planet’s orbital battlestations, his fleet had left the rest of the planet’s orbital infrastructure intact. The orbitals contained fifteen percent of the Gal-tak clan’s shipbuilding capacity along with other important industrial facilities. Jonathan hadn’t sent the marines or Free Karacknid warriors to take them because he knew he was likely going to abandon the planet. But we will be back, Jonathan reminded himself. If he could, he wanted to capture the shipyards intact. He now had more than enough Free Karacknid engineers to get them running, and General Tasata-su’s forces would soon need many shipyards to repair their warships.

“Leave them,” Jonathan said. “We will take them for ourselves once we deal with the Clan Lord’s main fleet.”

Which is now our focus, Jonathan said to himself as his fleet pulled away from the planet. Within the next couple of hours, the Clan Lord was going to receive news that Scott’s fleet would soon be jumping in behind him. Until then, he needed to make sure the Karacknid fleet wouldn’t be able to escape.

At first, Jonathan’s fleet pulled back from the planet, allowing the Gal-tak fleet to move in and secure it. Unsurprisingly, hundreds of shuttles left the Gal-tak fleet before they even entered orbit.

“They’re landing more ground troops,” Matthis guessed.

“Making it harder for us to conquer if we ever come back,” Jonathan added. “Alright, time to show them we’re not done just yet. Iso, see if you can dance us around them.”

“With pleasure, sir,” Iso said, grinning at the prospect of being trusted with such an important maneuver.

Where the Karacknid fleet was now, if Scott’s ships jumped in, there was a good chance they could make a break for the system’s northwestern shift passage and avoid both Jonathan and Scott’s ships. As Iso began to alter the heading of Jonathan’s fleet, it didn’t take long for that to change. With the Gal-tak fleet now in orbit around Grvasan, they had left the door to the Sadarson system open. Iso charged towards it, making it appear as though the attack on Grvasan had been a diversionary tactic to lure in the Clan Lord’s fleet all along.

The Gal-tak fleet reacted immediately—they had no choice. Abandoning Grvasan, they began to charge along the very course they had taken to reach the planet.

“It looks like they’ll just beat us to the shift passage,” Harte commented.

“But not if we slow them down. Permission to launch our fighters, Admiral?” Iso asked.

“By all means,” Jonathan said, gesturing for his Chief of Staff to proceed. Within minutes, eleven thousand fighters had launched, formed up, and raced away from the Allied fleet on an intercept course with the Gal-taks. The Karacknid Clan Lord had only one option: he launched all twelve thousand of his fighters to intercept Iso’s.

For twenty minutes, Iso let her fighters appear ready for a fight. Then, she sent out a recall order.

For another ten minutes, the Gal-tak fighters continued on their course, thinking it was a feint. But when the Allied fighters showed no sign of turning back, they eventually gave up.

“He has to suspect something is up now,” Matthis said. “There’s no reason for us to continue on this course unless we have some kind of additional trick up our sleeve.”

“I’m sure he does,” Jonathan agreed. “But he still has no choice. If he turns to close with us directly, we can throw our fighters at him for real and then slip past him to raid his capital system. He can’t let that happen, so he must block us off. It’s just a matter of time until news of Scott’s fleet reaches him.”

Another thirty minutes passed, and then the news arrived. Three frigates appeared at the end of the shift passage the Gal-tak fleet had taken into the system. Just ten seconds after transmitting their message to the Gal-tak fleet, it began rapidly altering its heading.

“They’re coming for us!” Harte said. “Looks like a direct intercept course.”

“Turn us around,” Jonathan ordered, catching Iso’s eye. The Gal-tak Clan Lord was no longer interested in trying to stop Jonathan’s fleet from reaching his capital system. That could only mean one thing—he knew Scott’s ships would soon be entering the system. “He wants to destroy us before Scott can get here. Rossi, call in our reinforcements.”

As Imperial and the rest of Jonathan’s ships spun around, the dreadnought’s gravimetric COM began transmitting flashes of gravimetric waves across the system. Less than ten seconds later, three thousand additional ships jumped into the system from its southern shift passage, setting course to join Imperial. Though they were two hours away, Jonathan knew that as long as his fleet kept falling back, the reinforcements would arrive before the Gal-tak ships could bring him to battle. This time, if he had to fight alone, Jonathan had ensured he wouldn’t be at a numerical disadvantage.

The Gal-tak fleet cut its acceleration less than a minute after Jonathan’s reinforcements entered the system.

“What are they doing?” Iso asked after more than thirty seconds had passed.

“Thinking, would be my guess,” Jonathan answered. “They know they’re trapped. They also know we’ll keep falling back if they charge us. We have no need to engage them until Scott gets here. So, how would you get yourself out of such a situation?”

Iso frowned as she studied the holo display. The point of Jonathan’s trap was that the clan leader couldn’t escape. Unless he had sensed the trap and fled to the system’s northern shift passage the moment he had recaptured Grvasan, there was no way for him to outrun Jonathan and Scott’s fleets. Once Scott arrived, both Allied fleets would be positioned to cut off any of the Gal-tak fleet’s lines of retreat.

“I guess I don’t know,” Iso said. “The best I would hope for would be to isolate one of our fleets and take it on one-on-one.”

“Which is exactly what the Gal-tak Clan Lord is going to have to accept sooner or later,” Jonathan responded. “Which means he’s going to continue to come after us. Even with our reinforcements, Scott still has the more powerful fleet.”

Contrary to Jonathan’s prediction, however, when the Karacknid ships powered up their engines again, they began to turn away from Imperial.

“They’re turning towards the northern shift passage,” Harte announced.

Most of Imperial’s officers turned to Jonathan.

“I said he has to accept his fate sooner or later,” Jonathan clarified, “not that he would accept it right away. Iso, follow them. But slow us to seventy percent of maximum acceleration. Let’s let our reinforcements catch us up.”

For the next thirty-seven minutes, Jonathan was content to slowly chase the Gal-tak fleet as it raced north, allowing the Clan Lord’s fleet to open up a larger gap. Then Scott’s fleet finally arrived. All fourteen thousand of her ships jumped into the system, formed up, and immediately joined the pursuit of the Gal-tak fleet. From their starting position, they could easily cut off the Gal-tak fleet’s attempt to flee the system to the north.

“Now the real battle begins,” Jonathan said. “Increase thrust to ninety percent. Let’s close in on our quarry.”

Chapter 13

The Empire of today has faced five hundred years of almost constant warfare. Though our Empire was birthed in war, it was founded by a people who knew far more peace than war. I suspect that if they walked the halls of power now, they would find things very different from what they were used to.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial

“Admiral Scott is hailing us with her gravimetric COM,” Rossi reported just after Scott’s fleet began to accelerate. “She says, ‘if he allows us, we’ll close with him and wait for you to join us.’”

“Acknowledge her message,” Jonathan said to Rossi. He then turned to Iso and Harte. “I doubt the Clan Lord will make it that easy for us.”

“You believe he will come for us now?” Iso asked.

Jonathan nodded. “It is his only move. Unless he wants to simply surrender.” Everyone knew that was not going to happen.

It took just five minutes for the Gal-tak Clan Lord to accept there was no escape for him. Or at least, that was what he wanted the two fleets trying to close with him to think.

“They’re turning again!” Harte announced. “They’re coming for us.”

“Just as you said,” Matthis commented as he gave Jonathan a nod.

“Let’s just wait and see,” Jonathan responded. “There’s a lot of space between his fleet and us yet. Slow us to ten percent thrust. If he wants to come this way, we’ll let Scott and Higgins catch up.”

“Slowing now, Admiral,” Iso said.

“Rear Admiral Higgins will join us in one and a half hours at this rate,” Harte updated. “The Gal-taks will come into missile range twenty minutes before that, and Scott will be right on their heels by then.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Jonathan responded. He then settled into his command chair to wait. Though there was no way the Gal-tak fleet could escape, he didn’t think his enemy was going to fly straight into a fight without trying something.

It didn’t take long for Jonathan’s suspicions to come true. Just ten minutes later, the Karacknid fleet changed course again.

“They’re trying to break towards the southwestern shift passage!” Harte said.

“They’ll never make it,” Matthis said immediately.

“No, but they could threaten Higgins’ fleet as they pass,” Jonathan said, giving his opponent a nod of respect. “Turn us towards Higgins, forty percent thrust.” It was the only way he could ensure Higgins didn’t have to face several salvos on his own. Yet it meant Jonathan’s ships would open a larger distance to Scott’s fleet.

“If they turn for us when they get about here, they’ll get six or seven salvos at us before Scott can join in,” Iso said as she highlighted a point further along the Gal-tak’s new flight path.

“We can take that many,” Jonathan said. By then, Higgins’ fleet would have joined, and they’d have a thousand more warships than the Gal-taks. Both sides would take a beating, but Scott’s arrival would bring the fight to a quick close.

The Clan Lord of the Gal-taks wasn’t done yet, however. Fifteen minutes later, his fleet changed course again.

“Where’s he going?” Harte asked as everyone’s eyes snapped to the holo display.

Jonathan was the first to see it. “The seventh planet, that big gas giant. He’s going to try and slingshot around it.”

“Should we go after him?” Iso asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “No. That will only give him an advantage over us. Have the computer simulate his approach, work out all the possible courses he could take.”

Seconds later, a red line ran out from the Gal-tak fleet’s current position towards the gas giant. As it curved around the planet, it split into more than a hundred different lines. Some led back into the inner system, others to various shift passages leading out of the system, while a few veered toward asteroid fields and other features the enemy commander might use to escape from the two Allied fleets.

No one spoke as Jonathan studied each potential course. He ground his teeth together. There were too many options. How could he predict which one his enemy would choose?

“Scott is transmitting a message to us via her gravimetric COM,” Rossi reported. It took several seconds for each word to be spelled out using the pulses. “She says: ‘We can’t predict his course, but we can cut off his best options.’”

“Of course,” Jonathan said, grasping what she meant immediately. Reaching out toward the main display, he began selecting the different potential routes, marking some green and leaving others red. Red were the ones that would give the Gal-tak fleet the best chance of getting away or at least engaging one of the Allied fleets on its own. “Alright,” he said as he studied his work. “We need to cut off all these routes without overextending ourselves and leaving either fleet isolated. Find me two positions for our fleets to be at when the Gal-taks reach the gas giant.”

“What about here?” Harte suggested several seconds later.

Jonathan studied the option, then nodded quickly. “Yes, that will work. Transmit the new course Scott’s fleet needs to follow immediately. Iso, turn us to where we need to be.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Iso said.

Seconds later, Imperial’s gravimetric array began to pulse again. Though they were still over a light hour and a half away, less than thirty seconds later, Scott’s ships began to turn onto their new course.

Jonathan nodded in satisfaction. Without the gravimetric COM, his two fleets might not have been able to coordinate quickly enough to match the enemy’s movements. But we do have it, he thought toward the Gal-tak Clan Lord. So you’re going to need to try harder.

Having done as much as he could, Jonathan now focused on the green lines as his fleets moved into position. We’ve cut off your best routes, so which one will you choose now? Though there was no clear favorite, several looked very attractive to Jonathan. He selected them all and then began to work out how he would use his two fleets to respond, no matter which route his enemy chose. Satisfied, he sat back in his command chair. Now, it was a waiting game.

It took the Gal-tak fleet twenty-five more minutes to reach the gas giant. When they did, they turned toward it and let its gravity catch them. Then the Karacknid ships disappeared behind the large gaseous planet. Everyone on the bridge went quiet, holding their breaths, waiting to see which way the enemy would go. Several silent seconds passed. Then the Karacknid fleet shot out from behind the planet. Jonathan smiled when they perfectly lined up with one of his green lines. “Got you!” he said triumphantly. “Send order twenty-three to Scott,” Jonathan snapped. “Iso, put the fleet on a heading of five-seven-six point one.”

The Gal-tak fleet was making a run back towards Grvasan. Once there, Jonathan suspected the Gal-tak Clan Lord wanted to slingshot around the planet and head back toward the shift passage to his capital system. That was not going to happen, however. Again, Imperial’s gravimetric COM allowed both Allied fleets to coordinate their maneuvers in real time across the system. Within seconds of the Gal-tak fleet emerging from behind the gas giant, Jonathan and Scott’s ships altered course, quickly settling onto headings that would allow them both to reach Grvasan just minutes after the Gal-tak fleet.

As a result, it didn’t take long for the Clan Lord to give up trying to reach Grvasan and his ships changed course again. Jonathan adjusted the heading of his ships in response. Almost before his ships had finished their turn, though, the Gal-tak fleet’s noses began to move again. “He’s trying to wriggle past us,” Jonathan said.

For forty minutes, the Gal-tak fleet altered its heading again and again, as Lord Trevsan tried to throw off his pursuers. Each move was designed to catch Jonathan out and put one of his fleets out of position. Yet Jonathan and Scott matched their opponent move for move. Even without the gravimetric COM, Jonathan doubted the Clan Lord could force them into a mistake. Both he and Scott had fought in many battles together and had simulated thousands of additional engagements. They knew what the other would do in almost any circumstance and could anticipate how their fleets needed to move to complement each other's strategies.

Eventually, Jonathan sensed the Gal-tak commander changing tactics. “He’s not trying to get away anymore. He’s trying to isolate us so he can fight us alone for as long as possible.” In response, Jonathan slowed his course changes when the Gal-tak fleet altered its heading several more times. Each time, Jonathan allowed Commodore Higgins’ fleet to close more with his own. Before they could fully join, however, the Gal-tak fleet finally made its last move.

“They’re turning onto a direct course for us!” Harte warned.

“Alright, this is it,” Jonathan said. “We need to hold our ground, or pulling back will open up enough space for them to try and run right past us. It’s time to fight.” As he spoke, the holo display updated to plot the Gal-tak fleet’s new course.

“They’ll get to fire just four salvos at us before Scott closes in on them from behind,” Harte updated. “And Rear Admiral Higgins’ ships will be close enough to add their defensive fire to ours against the first enemy salvo.”

“This was never going to be a one-sided battle,” Jonathan said, encouraging his officers. “But this is as good as we could have hoped for. Let’s focus on their light ships with our first salvo, then we’ll send our fighters in with our second one. Higgins should have joined us by then to add his missiles to ours. Signal Scott and Higgins to prepare their fighters.”

“Yes, sir,” Rossi said.

“Everything else is ready, Admiral,” Iso assured him.

Jonathan acknowledged her with a nod. “Harte, open fire as soon as we are in range.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Harte responded from the tactical console.

Twenty more minutes passed as the combatant fleets maneuvered into their final positions. Then Harte sent the command for every ship in Jonathan’s fleet to open fire with a touch of a single button. From the eight thousand Allied ships, one hundred and ninety thousand missiles were released into space. Nineteen seconds later, the ten thousand Gal-tak ships responded with two hundred and fifteen thousand of their own.

By the time both waves of missiles passed each other in open space, both Jonathan’s and the Clan Lord’s ships had fired again. This time, however, Higgins' ships had come close enough to add their seventy thousand missiles to Jonathan’s salvo. Just before both groups prepared to defend themselves, they fired a third time.

“Pulling us to the rear of the formation,” Matthis announced as he directed his ship and its protective flotilla to the rear of the fleet’s defensive formation.

Jonathan bit his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of hiding behind the rest of his fleet, nor the message it sent to all those on the frontlines preparing to face the incoming waves of death. Yet he knew there was no arguing with Matthis, Iso, or his other senior commanders.

As his fleet opened up with all its defensive weapons, Jonathan felt little fear for himself. Still, his stomach was knotted with nerves, for he knew some of his people would soon be dead or, worse, suffering immense pain and agony from the damage about to be inflicted on their ships.

Trusting that Harte and his gunners were doing their best, Jonathan focused on the progress of his own first missile salvo. With a twenty-second lead time and a slight acceleration advantage over the Karacknid salvo, Jonathan could see the Gal-taks’ attempt to whittle down his missiles. They did a fine job, and only a couple of hundred missiles struck their targets. Still, since they all targeted smaller Karacknid warships, one hundred and eighty found their marks, destroying the ships they had homed in on.

Refocusing on his own fleet, Jonathan gritted his teeth as a sizable wave of enemy missiles still raced toward them. The front of the wave was marked by a cacophony of explosions as the Allied ships targeted the closest missiles. The line of explosions rushed right up to the Allied fleet and then suddenly grew far larger as antimatter warheads began to detonate. With Higgins’ three thousand warships adding their own fire on the missiles for the last twenty seconds of their charge, the vast majority were shot down. Even so, almost three hundred of Jonathan’s ships began to flash on the main display, showing that Imperial had lost contact with them, or they were reporting serious damage. Within seconds, many of them began to fall out of formation.

“Harte, fit Higgins' fleet into our defensive formation,” Jonathan snapped. Then he joined Iso and the rest of his command staff in dispatching rescue shuttles to the damaged and crippled ships that had survived being struck by antimatter warheads.

As it always did once the missiles started flying, time seemed to fly by far too fast, and before Jonathan was ready, the second Gal-tak salvo was closing in. Before both fleets began defending themselves again, however, two other savage battles were fought. With Jonathan and Higgins' fighters charging from one direction and Scott’s moving in towards the rear of the Gal-tak fleet, Gal-tak fighters moved out to intercept them.

On the main display, Jonathan could easily see the symbol representing his sister as she led Scott’s fighters. He didn’t feel even a twinge of fear as her force slammed into the much smaller Gal-tak fighter wing. In a blaze of anti-fighter missiles, Georgia’s pilots took out half of their opposition. Then they finished off most of the rest with their laser and plasma cannons. The Gal-taks who had come out to confront Jonathan and Higgins’ fighters suffered a similar fate. At the cost of almost eight thousand of their fighters, the Gal-taks destroyed just three thousand of the twenty thousand closing in on their fleet’s capital ships.

With so many fighters bearing down on them, and Jonathan and Higgins’ missiles about to strike first, the Gal-taks had to know they were in trouble. Yet they fought valiantly. Only hundreds, rather than thousands, of Allied missiles managed to survive the withering defensive fire aimed at them. Though holes were blasted into the Gal-tak formation, the majority of their ships remained unmolested and immediately switched their fire to the two swarms of Allied fighters.

Thousands of fighters died under the onslaught. Almost a third were shot down. Jonathan had to bite back a groan at the losses. He knew fighter pilots understood the risks; only a certain type of personality was drawn to apply to the Imperial flight school on Mars. Yet he felt the weight of their sacrifices, especially knowing his sister would mourn each death he was witnessing.

Despite the massive losses—or perhaps spurred on by them—the remaining pilots tore into the Karacknid fleet with a vengeance as soon as they came within range. Thousands of grazer and laser beams slashed through Gal-tak ships, disrupting the cohesion of their defensive fire. Then, thousands of new contacts appeared as Imperial’s sensors detected the missiles launched by the surviving fighters. More than two-thirds of the missiles were shot down, but enough remained to momentarily blind Imperial’s sensors as they detonated.

Seconds later, the main display showed a very different picture of the Gal-tak fleet. At least two thousand ships were gone, and many more were falling out of formation. Despite the heavy losses, as the Allied fighters raced away from danger, the Gal-taks immediately began to reform their ranks, ready to fight on.

Explosions among his own ships reminded Jonathan that the battle was far from over. As the second enemy salvo smashed into his fleet, another two hundred and seventy ships were destroyed.

With no fighters attacking from either side, the third and fourth salvos Jonathan’s fleet exchanged with the Gal-taks were nowhere near as devastating. Still, both sides continued to take heavy losses. The next two salvos wiped out seven hundred Gal-tak ships, while Jonathan lost four hundred and sixteen.

The fifth salvo marked the turning point of the battle. Scott’s ships had come into range. Her fourteen thousand warships added another three hundred thousand missiles to the fray. Beset from two sides, and with more than a quarter of their initial strength already gone, the Gal-tak fleet’s doom was now certain. For a full ten seconds, the Gal-tak fleet vanished from Imperial’s sensors as it was engulfed in a massive cloud of antimatter detonations. When the explosions cleared, nine hundred Gal-tak warships were gone.

“Three more salvos like that, and they’ll be spent as a fighting force,” Harte called out.

Despite the massive damage to the enemy fleet, no one responded right away. Seconds later, a fresh wave of enemy warheads struck their fleet taking out over a hundred and fifty more warships. “Look!” Rossi exclaimed moments after the explosions ceased.

Jonathan followed her outstretched arm that was pointing at the heart of the Gal-tak fleet. It was opening up like a flower blooming from its sepals. For a moment, Jonathan was bewildered—the maneuver completely destroyed the enemy fleet’s defensive formation. Then he saw what was emerging from the center of the enemy fleet: a single dreadnought.

“The two Gal-tak salvos in space have just gone dark!” Harte called out in confusion. “They’ve stopped tracking us!”

“I’m picking up a message from that dreadnought,” Rossi said before Jonathan could react to her revelation. She pressed her audio device closer, trying to block out the noise on the bridge. “It’s from their Clan Lord. Trevsan is challenging you to a ship Trava-klan, Admiral!”

Jonathan’s gaze shifted away from the dreadnought emerging from the midst of the Gal-tak fleet. He had already guessed what was coming. Trevsan knew his fleet was doomed and was grasping at the only option left to him: a one-on-one ship duel to the death, the last chance he had of achieving any sort of victory.

Although Jonathan knew what Rossi had been going to say, he hesitated. Two overwhelming missile salvos were streaking through space toward the Gal-tak fleet, poised to obliterate thousands of enemy ships. He could order them to cut their engines and retrieve them later, but why should he stop fighting now, when he was so close to winning? Another thought gnawed at him—his father had died fighting Tanaka-lan in Trava-klan. Images of Becca, with his child in her womb, flickered through his mind. He didn’t want to leave them without a husband and father.

Then his eyes flicked to Scott’s fleet. General Tasata-su and six thousand Free Karacknid warships were there. If he refused, he would lose face. No Imperator could refuse a challenge of Trava-klan from another Clan Lord. Despite the small risk, Jonathan knew he had no choice.

Nodding to himself, he turned slowly from the display to Matthis. “Captain, detach us from the fleet. If Trevsan wants a fight, let’s give him one.”

“Aye, sir!” Matthis said enthusiastically, snapping out a series of orders to his lieutenants.

Jonathan turned to Harte next. “Send the stand-down order to our missile salvos. Have them turn and slow their velocity so we can pick them up later. We’re far too far from home to waste them.”

“Understood,” Harte replied.

“Are you ready?” Jonathan asked Iso.

She glanced up from her console for just a second. “Yes, Admiral. We’re already analyzing Trevsan’s dreadnought, matching its design to the schematics Tasata-su shared with us. We’ll have targeting solutions ready soon.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan said. Though each clan built their warships slightly differently in an attempt to hide vulnerabilities or new upgrades from one another, the designs were all roughly similar to allow for cooperation between clan fleets. Now, he thought as he locked his gaze on the dreadnought at the head of the Gal-tak fleet, it’s time to make you regret your decision.

From its inception on the Imperial and Kulrean design boards nine months ago, Imperial had been built for precisely this kind of battle. After his father’s death at the hands of Tanaka-lan’s oversized dreadnought, the Fleet’s senior admirals had wanted a ship capable of going toe-to-toe with the Karacknids’ best. Thanks to the addition of Kulrean sensors and reactors, Imperial could do much more. At least, in simulated battles, she could, Jonathan reminded himself. Well, we’ll soon find out.

“Admiral, Wing Commander Somerville is hailing us. She wishes to speak to you,” Rossi informed Jonathan.

Jonathan’s heart ached for his sister. Like him, she had been forced to watch helplessly while their father died fighting Tanaka-lan. She was likely hailing him to plead with him to turn back. “I’ll take it on my command chair,” he replied, wishing for as much privacy as possible on the bridge.

“Jonathan, I know I can’t talk you out of it,” Georgia said surprising him. After her attack on the Gal-tak fleet, she was almost close enough for real-time communication. “So answer me this, do you have any fighters still onboard?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, we just have a small carrier patrol wing held in reserve, but they’re all on their carriers.”

“What if that dreadnought has some? Tanaka-lan’s had a whole squadron,” Georgia pointed out. “I’m not far from you. Let me join you with my wingman. We’ll only play defense in case they launch their own,” she added hastily.

Jonathan wasn’t going to refuse that offer. “All right, bring your two fighters in and land on Imperial. We’ll launch you again if they send out fighters.”

“We’re ready to fire,” Harte reported, interrupting Jonathan and Georgia. “Trevsan hasn’t fired yet, though.”

“Make it quick,” Jonathan said to Georgia, then cut the COM channel. He looked up to Harte. “Fire immediately. We’re not waiting for him.” Moments later, Imperial unleashed one hundred and forty mark VII missiles into space. Sixteen seconds later, Trevsan’s dreadnought followed suit, firing its own salvo.

As the oversized warships hurtled toward one another, Jonathan studied his opponent. Iso had enlarged the image of the Karacknid dreadnought, highlighting several key areas to target. Other sections flashed, indicating that the dreadnought had already suffered damage.

"A proximity hit, at least," Jonathan figured. It looked like the enemy flagship had lost several of its heavy laser cannons. But they still had many more—ten at least, Jonathan counted. If Trevsan got close enough to use them, Imperial would be torn apart, even if her return fire obliterated the Clan Lord’s ship. But you’re not going to get to use them, Jonathan thought, clenching his fists.

Four minutes and forty-five seconds after firing her first salvo, Imperial’s missile tubes unleashed another wave of destruction. Trevsan’s flagship followed suit. Then, seconds later, it launched eight fighters from its main hangar. Jonathan swallowed. They were a problem. Just one fighter getting close enough with its directed energy weapons could be very dangerous. His eyes darted to Georgia’s fighter. She and her wingman were still angling to land on Imperial.

“Signal Georgia, tell her to forget about landing. She is to intercept those fighters. We’ll worry about any accusations of cheating later.”

“I’ll speak to her immediately, Admiral,” Iso said.

Moments later, the two Eaglaton fighters spun away from Imperial, charging toward their counterparts. Before the fighters clashed, the first waves of missile salvos struck their targets. Imperial’s defenses flared to life in a storm of energy and colors. The Kulrean sensors easily pierced the Karacknid missiles’ ECM. With more than twice the number of point defenses that Jonathan’s father’s flagship, Victory, had been armed with, Imperial tore into the Karacknid salvo. When the missiles were just twenty seconds away from hitting range, two-thirds were already gone. At that moment, twenty PD drones detached from Imperial. For four seconds, they flew away from the dreadnought. Then they opened fire with short-range lasers. With ease, the remaining Karacknid missiles were shot down.

“One down!” Matthis exclaimed with a whoop. “Just one more to go, then we’re in energy weapon range.” The anticipation in his voice was clear to everyone on Imperial’s bridge, spurring them on.

“If they even make it,” Harte added. Three of his missiles had just exploded near the Karacknid dreadnought. At least one had managed to collide with the warship, slamming into its hull. Fresh scarring along its starboard flank marked where valstronium armor had been burned off.

Jonathan heard them, but his focus was elsewhere. Georgia was about to engage the Karacknid fighters.

Chapter 14

Even the best of us fail sometimes. We must accept this and learn from our mistakes, or else we will be doomed to forever live in the past.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Georgia took a deep breath and held it in as she calmed herself. She needed her mind to be clear as she assessed the situation. Eight fighters were coming her way. Eight against two, she thought. Though Hawruk, her Eaglaton wingmate, was the best pilot she had ever flown with—except herself, of course—the odds were still far from great. Not if she wanted to stop all of them from charging Imperial along with the Clan Lord’s second missile salvo.

There’s only one way, she realized. Without thinking about the risk to herself, she immediately keyed her COM channel. “Hawruk, I’m slowing as much as I can. You are to charge straight into them. Fire your missiles and then go evasive. Break up their formation, and I’ll take them out.”

“But Wing Commander, that’s suicide,” Hawruk protested. “Let me stay with you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Georgia snapped as she spun the nose of her fighter one hundred and eighty degrees and pushed her throttle to full. “What I’m ordering you to do is dangerous enough as it is. Now, pilot, do your duty. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Hawruk replied obediently, though his tone made it clear what he thought of the plan.

Georgia waited a second to make sure Hawruk’s fighter wasn’t slowing with hers, then she dismissed him from her mind. She needed every ounce of her focus on the enemy in the next vital seconds.

Breathing deeply again, Georgia cleared her mind and entered her hyper-focused state. She gave herself a number: two. Imperial could handle two fighters, so she had to take down six. Taking control of her flight stick, she began some gentle evasive maneuvers and then quickly increased their intensity. She waited until the enemy fighters were just twenty seconds away, then she flipped her fighter around again to face them, having lost much of her forward momentum. Instead of just charging past them, she would now be able to stay in range with her laser cannons longer.

As she turned, she was just in time to see Hawruk flash past the eight Karacknids. He fired the one missile he had held in reserve from their previous battle and then began to twist, turn, and weave wildly. Four of the Karacknid fighters fired missiles at Hawruk. Despite her hyper-focused state, Georgia felt a stab of fear for him. She needn’t have worried, though. His fighter’s ECM confused two of the missiles, and he lived up to Georgia’s view of his skills by dodging between the remaining two.

For a second, Georgia felt relief, but it quickly turned to frustration as Hawruk began to disobey her orders. A couple of seconds after his missile slammed into one of the Karacknid fighters, Hawruk’s laser cannons began to fire deadly beams. As he twisted and turned, he lined up as many shots on the evading Karacknids as he could. It didn’t take long for another Karacknid fighter to be blown apart. Even though two of their number were dead, the remaining Karacknids ignored Hawruk, focusing on their own evasive maneuvers. Then the two groups passed one another. Hawruk swung his nose to keep firing at the Karacknids, but he failed to score a third kill.

Five, Georgia said to herself. She had no missiles left, but she knew she could take out five more. With Hawruk having taken down two, that would leave only one for Imperial to handle. A glance at one of her secondary screens told her she had a total of fourteen seconds to shoot down her five targets. It was far longer than usual, as she typically carried much more momentum into a fight. Maybe they won’t even shoot at me, she hoped. After all, they had ignored Hawruk. With her reduced velocity, her evasive maneuvers wouldn’t be nearly as effective, but that wouldn’t matter if they didn’t fire at her. But they will fire their missiles, she reminded herself. That was going to be challenging enough.

Seconds after the thought crossed her mind, the Karacknids fired. Four missiles streaked toward Georgia. She tapped a button on her console to launch her fighter's flares as she twisted and spun. None of the missiles took the bait, however. Relying on her evasive maneuvers, Georgia tried to break their lock as she pushed her ECM to full. She knew she couldn’t make the missiles lose their lock permanently, but she could at least throw them off for a few seconds—just enough to get far enough away so they couldn’t land a killing blow. In the space of four seconds, she threw off two.

With just two seconds until the remaining two missiles were set to strike, Georgia did something she had only tried in simulations. She cut her evasive maneuvers, lined up her sights on both missiles, and squeezed the trigger for her laser cannons. Both missiles exploded right in front of her. The detonations sent destructive energy and debris slamming into her shields. They flared, and Georgia was rattled around inside her cockpit as microscopic debris punched through the weakening shields, striking her fighter.

Damage alarms blared. Instinctively, Georgia silenced them. She then wiggled her fighter's controls to test their responsiveness. Everything seemed functional. She had just a couple of seconds to steady herself before the remaining six Karacknid fighters were upon her. Immediately, they opened fire with their laser cannons.

So much for not shooting at me! Georgia thought bitterly. She took a moment to adjust to dodging their shots, then began firing back. Two seconds later, she scored her first hit, and just a second after that, she destroyed another.

Suddenly, the accuracy of the enemy fire doubled. They weren’t really trying before, she realized. The enemy had assumed they would kill her quickly. Now, they were fighting for their lives. Instinctively, Georgia reduced her offensive fire as she had to focus more on evasive maneuvers to avoid getting blown apart. Even so, she expertly timed her movements so that every few seconds, she lined up on an enemy fighter. A third Karacknid was blown apart five seconds later.

Then, the Karacknids zipped by her. Sensing they were up against a deadly opponent, they all turned their noses, just as Georgia did, trying to keep her pinned down with their fire. Sweat ran down Georgia’s forehead and back. They’re good, she admitted to herself. The Clan Lord had kept his best pilots close to his flagship—likely in anticipation of trying to challenge Jonathan. The realization only made Georgia more determined. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, there was simply too much fire coming her way. With her low velocity, she had to pour all her skill into evasion, or risk being effortlessly blown apart.

In frustration, Georgia screamed. Three enemies still remained, and they were overwhelming her with their fire. As they reached the point where they pass beyond the range of her laser cannons, Georgia threw caution to the wind. She stopped her evasive maneuvers entirely and unleashed a torrent of hundreds of laser beams at one of the enemy fighters. The Karacknid pilot twisted and weaved with a level of skill Georgia had never seen from their kind before. Yet, as she screamed again, three of her beams found their mark and blew the fighter apart.

"One more!" she roared, switching her focus to the next Karacknid. She was still bent on taking out five of the six fighters that had charged her. But before she could pull the trigger, the remaining two enemy pilots gave up on their own evasive maneuvers. Using their wingman as a sacrificial decoy, they concentrated all their fire on Georgia’s fighter. A single beam sliced through the wing of her Talon a millisecond before she lined up her next shot. The sudden loss of maneuvering thrusters on the wing sent the Talon into an uncontrolled spin.

Georgia swore as she desperately pulled on her flight stick, trying to correct the spin. Thrusters all across the rest of her fighter fired in an attempt to regain control. Almost instantly, electrical surges blew out several panels, causing Georgia to scream as her hands were burnt. A fraction of a second later, a surge raced down the Talon’s damaged wing. Sparks shot into the cloud of fuel spraying from a severed maneuvering thruster fuel pipe. Her fighter was instantly engulfed in a fiery explosion.

Georgia didn’t see or feel it. At that moment, her fighter’s engine and reactor failed. With the loss of power, the inertial dampers went offline. Suddenly subjected to massive G-forces from the spin, Georgia blacked out as the flames washed over her Talon fighter.

The two remaining Karacknid fighters turned away from her now-dead ship and set their sights on Imperial.

*

“No!” Jonathan shouted as Georgia’s fighter was hit. He slammed his fist into his command chair. “No,” he repeated, his voice now a groan, as her fighter disappeared in a fireball and spun away out of control.

"Track that fighter!" Matthis commanded. "Send our sensor data back to the fleet. Have them launch SAR shuttles—every single one they’ve got spare."

"At once, Captain," one of Matthis' officers responded.

Jonathan barely registered the exchange. His heart pounded in his chest, yet time seemed to have stopped. All he could think about was his father—how he had helplessly watched his father die. Now his sister was gone. No pilot could survive such an explosion and catastrophic loss of control. He shook his head, a tear sliding down his cheek. Another quickly followed, as he pictured the grief on his mother’s and siblings' faces when they learned the news. They had all thought Georgia invincible. They had been wrong.

"Second enemy missile salvo approaching," Harte said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Engage at will," Matthis ordered. "Focus all fire on those two fighters as soon as they come into range. Prioritize them above all else."

As the familiar sounds of point-defense systems firing filled the bridge, Jonathan’s eyes were pulled away from the spot on the holo display where Georgia’s fighter had vanished. He glanced at the incoming enemy missiles, watching them being systematically destroyed by the fleet’s defensive fire, but he felt nothing. Then his eyes flicked to the two Karacknid fighters charging alongside the missiles. Immediately, he looked away. He couldn’t bear to watch them.

Instead, Jonathan scanned the bridge. Several officers had been staring at him, but their heads whipped back to their stations as his gaze passed over them. Only Iso met his eyes. She had already been watching him, concern etched on her face.

"Are you alright, Admiral?" she asked quietly. When Jonathan didn’t respond, she leaned closer. "Admiral?" she repeated.

"Yes?" Jonathan replied, his voice distant.

Iso gestured toward the main display. "We are still in a battle. We’re fighting for our lives. Your people need you."

Her words pierced through the fog of grief and shock that clouded Jonathan’s mind. It wasn’t just Iso speaking—he could almost hear Georgia’s voice reminding him of his duty. He remembered the sharp words she and Scott had spoken after the devastating losses his fleet had suffered against the Gal-tak border fleet. She died fighting to the last. I cannot stop now! Jonathan told himself, summoning all the strength he could muster.

Blinking, he saw Iso clearly for the first time. The worry on her face was palpable. Jonathan nodded to her and then turned back to the main display. He forced himself to focus on the two enemy fighters. They had killed his sister, and now they were the greatest threat to his ship and crew—the people he had come to think of as family. Raising his hand toward the holo display, Jonathan growled his next command.

"Those two fighters killed my sister. Ten thousand credits and a medal to the first gunners who shoot them down!" he declared, confident the message would spread through the ship like wildfire.

Some of Imperial’s long-range weapons had already begun targeting the fighters, but Jonathan’s words had an immediate effect. Within seconds, space around the enemy craft exploded into a dazzling display of flak bursts, plasma bolts, laser beams, and antimatter missiles. Despite his grief and rage, Jonathan’s eyes widened at the sheer skill of the enemy pilots. For several tense moments, they evaded every shot. Jonathan clenched his teeth—of course they were good. They had killed his sister.

As good as the enemy pilots were, they couldn’t outfly the sheer weight of fire Imperial was putting out, especially with Kulrean-grade sensors tracking them. Jonathan snarled as one of the fighters was finally blown apart. With all of Imperial’s weapons trained on it, the second fighter lasted only a couple of seconds longer. Jonathan grunted, slumping back into his command chair. He felt nothing. Like his father's death, getting revenge changed nothing.

With an effort, he forced himself to refocus on the incoming missiles. He could immediately see that far too many had come dangerously close to Imperial. Even as they began to explode, taken out by the ship's defensive fire, Jonathan knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Matthis called out just seconds later.

Jonathan grabbed the armrests of his command chair and braced as strong g-forces and his tightening harness pressed him hard into his seat. Imperial’s guns continued to fire as the massive dreadnought was thrown into a corkscrew maneuver. Eight enemy missiles closed in on the spinning warship. Two were shot down by last-second AM missiles launched at them. Another two were destroyed by the PD drones, which hadn’t followed Imperial into her evasive maneuvers to keep firing. Two more missiles lost track due to Imperial’s ECM and evasive maneuvers. However, the final two couldn’t be shaken. They both smashed into Imperial almost simultaneously, enveloping her in a cloud of antimatter.

What saved the dreadnaught were her shields. Powered by Imperial’s Kulrean reactors, they were far stronger than any other Human ship had ever possessed. To the shock of every Gal-tak warship in the system, Imperial flew through the deadly antimatter cloud with her shields flaring but intact. Her hull took no damage.

"Shields at thirty percent, but holding," someone called out.

Through his grief, Jonathan managed to feel a flicker of pride in his ship. It quickly morphed into anger toward Trevsan. How do you like that? he thought, glaring at his enemy. Not very much, Jonathan guessed, as his eyes locked on the Gal-tak flagship on the main display. Matthis’s second salvo had already struck Trevsan’s dreadnought. Close enough to fire mark VIII missiles, their bomb-pumped warheads had inflicted clear damage on the Karacknid warship. Several fresh scars ran along her hull, and debris streamed from at least one of her compartments. Nevertheless, she was still charging toward Imperial and would soon enter energy weapon range. All of her heavy laser cannons were already tracking Jonathan’s ship. As he continued to watch, the enemy dreadnought began executing its own evasive maneuvers.

“They know about our phase cannon,” Harte called out.

“Aye, I’m sure they do,” Matthis replied, not sounding concerned in the slightest. "But wait until they see what else we have. Tactical, fire the main cannon as soon as we're in range. Try to land a hit as best you can."

“Yes, Captain,” Imperial’s tactical officer responded.

Jonathan leaned forward in his command chair. Imperial's main phase cannon ran almost the entire length of her hull. It could fire a massively deadly beam of phased particles that would rip apart whatever it hit. The Kalassai weapon had caught more than one Karacknid fleet off guard in the past. Yet it had one drawback: being so large, it required the entire ship be lined up with her maneuvering thrusters to be able to target an opponent. This made it challenging to aim, especially when the target was still far away and maneuvering wildly.

“Firing!” the tactical lieutenant announced.

Half a second later, Trevsan’s flagship lit up like a Christmas tree on Imperial’s thermal sensors. Several officers cheered, thinking the ship had been destroyed, but the heat quickly dissipated. The tactical lieutenant groaned.

“It was a glancing hit,” Harte reported. “Looks like we took out a lot of external sensors and point-defense nodes, but no hull breach.”

“Thirty seconds to laser cannon range,” another officer called out.

“Wait for my mark,” Matthis ordered, even as Imperial came into range with her hidden weapons.

Jonathan glanced at Matthis, wondering what he was waiting for. But when he looked back at the main display, he understood. Trevsan’s flagship, knowing how long it took the phase cannon to recharge, momentarily slowed its evasive maneuvers to prepare for the upcoming laser cannon battle. “Now!” Matthis ordered.

Immediately, two large hatches retracted along Imperial’s topside, revealing her smaller phase cannons. While less powerful than the main phase cannon, they outranged heavy laser cannons whilst still packing a very powerful punch. More importantly, they were mounted with the same mounts heavy laser cannons were, allowing them to track targets independently of Imperial's movements. In just a second, they locked onto the enemy flagship and fired.

One shot missed completely, but the second slammed into the nose of the Karacknid dreadnought. It nearly sliced the forward fifth of the ship clean off. Secondary explosions rippled down the interior of the ship for about a quarter of its remaining length. As the warship’s engines continued thrusting forward, the remaining bulkheads snapped, flinging the severed nose out and behind the dreadnought.

Cheers filled the bridge, growing louder as the heat signatures from the warship’s reactors dimmed and its engine’s thrust dropped by forty percent. Matthis wasn’t finished yet, though. “Full reverse!” he ordered. “Direct all surplus energy to recharging one of the small phase cannons. Let’s get another hit in before we reach laser cannon range. Fire at whatever strength the beam has just before they can fire back.”

With just twenty-one seconds until both ships could engage with their standard energy weapons, the phase cannon could only be charged to sixty percent of its maximum power. But when it fired, it easily countered the sluggish maneuvers of the damaged enemy flagship. The beam struck the dreadnought amidships, precisely where the schematics Tasata-su had provided indicated its reactors were located.

The result was a blinding explosion. In an instant, the dreadnought was obliterated, blown into a trillion microscopic pieces. Even louder cheers erupted across the bridge.

While everyone else celebrated, Jonathan’s thoughts immediately shifted to his sister. Scanning the room, he raised a hand and pointed at a sensor Lieutenant. "Lieutenant, you were tasked with tracking Wing Commander Somerville’s fighter. Where are its remains now?"

The joy on the Lieutenant’s face vanished. Her cheeks flushed as she looked down. "I’m sorry, Admiral. With all the energy from our defensive fire and then the detonation of the Karacknid antimatter missile so close to us, we lost the track. I’m so sorry, Admiral."

Jonathan swung towards Iso, his face contorted with anger. "The SAR shuttles that the fleet launched. Have they found a trace of her?"

Iso glanced at her console, her fingers rapidly dancing across it. After a few seconds, she looked up and slowly shook her head. "I’m sorry, sir."

Jonathan cursed under his breath, fury bubbling up inside him. His eyes locked onto the Gal-tak fleet. As was customary, they had pulled back out of missile range while Jonathan dueled their Clan Lord. "Open a channel to those ships," he growled.

"Gal-tak fleet," he spat once Rossi nodded to him, indicating the channel was live. "Your Clan Lord is dead. I have killed him. Cut your engines and surrender to me now. Swear your allegiance to me as your Imperator, or you will all die. You have ten seconds to comply, or I will order my fleets to open fire." Jonathan gave Rossi a sharp nod and addressed her quietly. "Signal our fleet and Scott’s to close in and prepare to fire. Launch all refueled fighters and have them ready to strike with our salvo."

"Look, ships are cutting their engines," Harte said excitedly.

Jonathan looked up at the main display. Not all the Gal-tak ships were complying—perhaps a third were obeying. The rest, however, were powering up their reactors and engines, attempting to race out of the trap formed by the Allied fleets.

"Coordinate fire from both fleets," Jonathan said coldly, turning to Iso. "Destroy them."

"With pleasure," Iso responded, her tone equally resolute.

Jonathan acknowledged her words with a nod, his gaze fixed on the destruction that was about to unfold. Yet, deep down, he knew there would be no satisfaction in watching the death of his enemies. No amount of revenge would bring his sister back.

Chapter 15

Even after millennia of warfare and almost miraculous medical advancements, the many mysteries that surround the human brain mean dealing with trauma is still a very difficult task.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Gradually, Georgia became aware she was awake. She groaned immediately. The pain was what told her she was alive. Her whole body ached, but her hands were the worst—tingling with savage jolts of agony. As her awareness grew, she became aware of a great force pressing down on her. Even opening her eyelids was a struggle.

When she finally managed to open them, she looked out through the canopy of her Talon fighter. I’m in space, she realized through the haze clouding her mind. Looking down, she was reminded of her hands. Flexing her fingers brought a fresh wave of pain, making her grunt again. An electrical explosion, she recalled groggily as fragments of the battle started coming back to her.

My wing... then I blacked out... but for how long? Blinking through the fog, Georgia searched her screens for a chronometer. Most were blank or shattered. But not all, she noted. Some still have life. Auxiliary power must have kicked in, which explained why she had regained consciousness. The inertial dampener was likely drawing just enough power to keep her from being completely overwhelmed by the G-forces, though the pressure on her body told her it was barely functioning. How much reserve power is left? she wondered, panic rising as she struggled to turn her head to check the other screens. She was suddenly terrified the dampener might cut out at any second, sending her spiraling back into unconsciousness—this time, perhaps forever.

Unable to confirm how much power remained, Georgia knew she had only one option: she had to stop her spin. Summoning all the strength she could muster, and ignoring the searing pain shooting through her, she fought to lift her right arm. Every centimeter felt like an hour-long battle against a swarm of Karacknid fighters. The spin of her fighter strained to push her arm back into her lap, as if it weighed a ton. Even with her augmentations, progress was agonizingly slow. But millimeter by millimeter, she raised her hand toward the flight stick.

A gasp escaped her lips as she finally grasped it, fresh pain stabbing up her burnt hand and wrist. Georgia than took several deep breaths to steady herself. Okay, this has to be done just right. She had no idea if any maneuvering thrusters were still operational, or if they had power or fuel. But she had to try. Staring up through the canopy, she did her best to visualize the spin her Talon was caught in, based on how the stars were moving around her. Saying a silent prayer, she eased the flight stick forward, up, and to the right.

For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Georgia almost lost hope. But then, a single thruster fired. She felt the vibration through her seat and instinctively twisted the flight stick, trying to align the thruster to counter the spin. For five long seconds, the thruster fired—then, without warning, it cut out and stayed off.

Georgia gasped, then swore—twice—as fresh pain flooded her hand, which had slammed into her thigh when she let go of the flight stick. Calming herself, she cautiously tried to lift her hand again. Relief washed over her as she found it slightly easier to move. She was still spinning, but now I can move my arms a little! That meant she had a chance. Given that she didn’t feel hungry yet, she couldn’t have been unconscious for too long. That means Jonathan’s fleet is still in the system. They could be looking for me right now.

With both hands, Georgia reached for her instruments and panels. Each touch sent fresh pain shooting up her fingers, but she ignored it. Methodically, she tested every control to see what still worked and had power. Within a minute, she realized very little was functional. But there’s enough, she reassured herself as an idea formed. One of her secondary screens still had power. If she could rewire it and connect it to her Talon’s COM unit, she might have just enough power to send a few pings.

A couple of minutes later, the rewiring was done. Alright, she thought, as she programmed the COM unit to send out a simple series of beeps. Let’s hope someone out there is listening.

*

IS Imperial

Rage boiled within Jonathan as the final salvo from his fleet wiped out the last of the Gal-tak warships. None of the enemy ships that refused to surrender had escaped. Though he dreaded it, Jonathan turned his attention to the surrendered ships – whose captains and crews would need to be dealt with.

"Admiral, COMs just picked up a faint signal," Rossi said before Jonathan could give any orders. "It’s a series of beeps... Morse code for SOS!"

Jonathan instantly forgot the surrendered ships. "Where?" he demanded.

"Not far from our current position," Rossi replied, highlighting a flashing area on the star map.

Jonathan estimated the distance from where Georgia’s fighter had disappeared. It could be! Hope surged in him. No other ships or fighters had been destroyed nearby. She might be alive!

"Launch all of Imperial’s SAR shuttles, track the signal’s trajectory, and get our people there immediately," he ordered.

The next ten minutes were agonizing. Jonathan didn’t know if the signal was from Georgia or if it was just an automated distress call. When the first visuals from the rescue shuttles came in, his heart sank. It was a Talon fighter, but it had been torn apart by enemy fire and was spinning wildly. How could anyone survive that? Jonathan feared.

Expertly, an SAR shuttle matched the fighter’s spin and clamped onto the wrecked vessel. A team went EVA to access the cockpit. Jonathan’s heart leaped when the images showed Georgia inside, her eyes open and moving. She was hurt, but she was alive!

Jonathan sprang to his feet. "I’m going to the main hangar. Bring her there," he said, rushing towards the bridge exit.

“I’ll make sure the shuttle hurries back,” Iso promised.

Jonathan paused at the hatch, catching himself. "You’re in charge of the fleet," he said to Iso. "Coordinate with Generals Johnston and Tasata-su. Get marines and Free Karacknids aboard the surrendered ships immediately. We’ll figure out what to do with the crews later. And have Scott dispatch a squadron back to Gravisar to bombard the ground troops the Gal-tak fleet just landed."

"I’ll see to it all, Admiral," Iso assured him. She gave a supportive smile and nodded toward the hatch. "Go. We’ll be here when you get back."

Jonathan didn’t need to be told twice. Nodding at his Chief of Staff, he rushed out of the bridge and into the nearest turbo lift. In just three minutes, he reached Imperial’s main hangar. Rossi sent a message saying the shuttle was still five minutes out. Impatiently, Jonathan paced back and forth, oblivious to the crew and junior officers who had stopped their work to watch him.

The more he replayed the images of Georgia in his mind, the more concerned he grew. She had looked in bad shape. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, an SAR shuttle passed through the hangar’s forcefield and gently landed on the deck. Jonathan rushed to meet the shuttle’s rear access ramp as it descended. Imperial’s doctor arrived with a medical team, but Jonathan placed himself in front of them, determined to be the first to see his sister.

Even before the ramp touched the deck, Georgia appeared as she was carried out on a medical stretcher. Jonathan was at her side instantly. He made to grab her hand but stopped when he saw the burns covering it. Instead, he gently touched her shoulder as the rescue team paused beside him. "Georgia, you're on Imperial, you're safe now," he said softly.

To his relief, Georgia's eyes flickered open. When she saw him, she gave a weak smile. She tried to speak, but it came out as a croak. She tried again but with even less success.

"It's okay," Jonathan said, squeezing her shoulder again. "You're going to be looked after."

"Admiral, if you don't mind," Imperial's doctor said as she gently moved between Jonathan and Georgia. She quickly spoke with the rescue team. "Get her to sickbay, right away," she ordered, her tone becoming more serious. As her staff efficiently took control of the stretcher, she turned to Jonathan. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but her vital signs are weak. Her body has been through a lot. We need to act quickly."

"Of course," Jonathan said, stepping back to give the medics space. "Do what you need to do."

Without further conversation, the doctor and her team swiftly moved Georgia through the hangar, attaching sensors and scanning her as they went. Jonathan followed silently, his worry growing. Once they reached sickbay, they transferred Georgia to a medical bed in a private room.

Jonathan stood just outside the hatch, watching as the medical team worked on her for ten minutes. They administered drugs via hypospray and used larger scanners to examine her whole body. Occasionally, Georgia groaned, or her eyes fluttered open, only to close again moments later. The doctor finally leaned over Georgia and pressed another hypospray to her neck. As soon as it was administered, Georgia's body went limp, her head rolling to one side. Not long after, the doctor emerged.

"Admiral, we haven't formally met," she said, extending her hand.

"Doctor Hemingway, I know. That's my fault, I apologize," Jonathan replied, shaking her hand.

"You're a busy man, no need to worry about it," Hemingway said, waving off his apology.

"How is she?" Jonathan asked as soon as Hemingway stopped speaking.

"Her vital signs were poor when she landed. Her body has been through a lot," Hemingway explained. "But we've stabilized her. We decided it was best to put her into a coma until we can do more work." Hemingway paused, taking a deep breath, reminding Jonathan that she hadn't stopped for even a second since arriving in the hangar.

“Outwardly, her hands appear to have taken the most damage,” Hemingway continued, “but the burns are mainly superficial. We’ll have them healed up within twenty-four hours. Internally, however, it’s another matter. All of her organs have been stressed significantly. Some are badly bruised; others have deformed or suffered microtears. The injuries are consistent with extreme g-force trauma.

“The good news is that we’re very experienced in treating such injuries, and things could be worse. We don’t think she’ll need any artificial organs grown for transplant. We’ll also begin regenerative treatments within the hour. She should be feeling much better in a couple of days and likely back on her feet within a week or so.”

Jonathan was elated. “So, she will make a full recovery?”

Hemingway nodded. “She’ll need a lot of rest, but yes, our scans indicate there’s nothing we can’t fix.”

Jonathan beamed as he shook Hemingway’s hand again. “Thank you, doctor. I feared the worst.”

“She’s strong, and her augments probably saved her,” Hemingway said. “An hour or two of exposure to the g-forces she endured, and there would have been nothing we could have done for her though.”

“She is strong and stubborn,” Jonathan said, smiling. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear that’s what saved her.”

“You can tell her yourself in a few hours,” Hemingway responded. “We’ll run the first regenerative treatments now and then wake her in about twelve hours to see how they’ve helped. If you don’t mind, I’ll get back to her now.”

“Of course,” Jonathan said, gesturing towards the room where Georgia lay. “Don’t let me stop you. Do whatever she needs.”

Hemingway nodded and rejoined her staff. Jonathan watched for another minute, savoring the relief of knowing his sister was going to be alright. As his joy began to fade, his other duties returned to the forefront of his mind. Georgia was safe, the main Gal-tak fleet and its Clan Lord had been destroyed, and if he wanted to defeat the rest of the clan, quick action was essential. After taking one last look at Georgia’s peaceful face, he turned and moved briskly through Imperial’s corridors, heading back to the bridge.

“Status update,” he requested as he stepped onto the bridge and approached his command chair.

“Admiral,” Iso said formally. “We’re still in the process of taking the senior Gal-tak naval officers into custody, but we have troops on all their ships now. A total of one thousand three hundred and ninety-six ships surrendered. Rear Admiral O’Kane’s squadron is approaching Gravisar as we speak. The Karacknid ground troops are scattering, but most of their supplies and heavy equipment have been abandoned at their LZs.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan said. “Signal Scott, Tasata-su, and the other senior commanders. Inform them I want our fleets ready to move within the hour. We’re going to set course for the Sadarson system and the Gal-tak capital. The Clan Lord is dead. I want to capture or kill his heir and the clan’s other senior leaders before they have time to regroup.”

“I’ll make sure every ship in the fleet knows we need to depart as soon as possible,” Iso said. She then issued several instructions to the junior command staff before turning back to Jonathan. “How is Wing Commander Somerville?” she asked in a quieter voice.

“She’s hurt pretty badly, but it’s nothing Doctor Hemingway thinks she can’t fix. She should make a full recovery,” Jonathan said, unable to hide a smile.

Iso returned his smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Admiral.”

“Not as glad as I am,” Jonathan assured her. “And now that she’s going to be okay, it’s time to move on the Gal-tak capital and end our campaign against their clan!”

Chapter 16

Though many things in naval warfare have changed over the centuries, one thing remains the same: if you outrange your opponent, you can choose where and when to fight.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Sadarson System, 4th November 2514 AD, (two days later).

“Bombard cruisers are in position,” Harte informed Jonathan.

“No response from the planet?” Jonathan asked as he glanced at Rossi.

The COMs Lieutenant shook her head. “No messages have been received from orbit or the planet’s surface.”

“Very well, commence,” Jonathan ordered. Half an hour ago, as his fleet had approached the Gal-tak capital of Sadarson, he had offered them terms. Evidently, they weren’t going to accept.

As his order went out, the bombard cruisers opened fire. The specially designed warships were replicas of the weapons platforms former Imperator Tanaka-lan had built to break through the system of border forts Jonathan’s father had erected to defend the Empire. Each cruiser was equipped with four long electromagnetic cannons that ran the length of the vessel. When the cannons fired, they launched 24-ton shells. Two hundred shells raced towards Sadarson’s orbital battlestations while Jonathan’s fleet and the bombard cruisers remained stationary, positioned outside missile range.

It took thirty minutes for the shells to reach the planet. Just outside the range of point defense weapons, detonators within the shells shattered them into tens of thousands of tiny tungsten flakes. In a dense cloud, the flakes descended on the Gal-tak orbital stations. Realizing the threat, the battlestations and their fleet of five hundred warships fired a salvo of anti-ship missiles. Their antimatter warheads detonated amidst the cloud, vaporizing huge swaths of shrapnel. Yet millions of tungsten flakes continued hurtling toward the planet’s orbitals.

Point defense weapons filled the space around the planet with color as they sought to destroy the small ballistic objects, but the flakes were too small and too numerous to track effectively. When the flak cloud reached the planet’s orbitals, Imperial’s sensors picked up thousands of tiny impacts as the flakes collided with everything in their path.

The key difference between these shells and those Tanaka-lan had used was that Jonathan’s tungsten flakes were designed to burn up in the planet’s atmosphere. As much as Jonathan despised the Karacknid Empire, he wasn’t prepared to bombard the cities below.

Despite their small size and limited individual damage, the sheer number of flakes more than compensated for their weaknesses. Though none of the flakes could penetrate the thick valstronium armor of the stations, they pierced through sensor nodes, point defense weapons, and even damaged missile tubes that hadn’t been closed in time.

“No ships destroyed, Admiral,” Harte reported. “But we detected four thousand eight hundred strikes.”

“Fire again,” Jonathan ordered his tactical officer. “Keep firing until I say otherwise.”

For an hour, the two thousand battlestations defending the Gal-tak capital endured the one-sided barrage. While the attack might have initially seemed underwhelming, over time, the battlestations’ combat effectiveness steadily eroded. Almost all had suffered multiple hits, limiting their ability to defend themselves if and when Jonathan’s fleet decided to move in for a fight. With no end to the bombardment in sight and no way to strike back from orbit, the Karacknids eventually resorted to the only option left: they charged. Six thousand fighters launched from orbital hangars, accelerating out of orbit alongside the five hundred warships that were all that was left of the Gal-tak clan fleet.

“Iso,” was all Jonathan had to say.

In a show of strength, General Tasata-su’s Free Karacknid fleet sprang into action. Accompanied by a wing of Allied fighters, they moved to intercept the attack. Tasata-su waited until his prey was beyond the support of the orbital battlestations, then he pounced. First, a massive wave of Free Karacknid and Allied fighters engaged the Gal-tak fighters. In a deadly exchange of missiles, half of the Gal-tak fighters were shot down. Then both groups flashed past one another in an exchange of plasma and laser fire. After the brief fight, so few Gal-tak fighters were left that they simply gave up and retreated towards Sadarson.

Without the fighter cover, the warships had no hope of reaching the bombard cruisers by themselves. Yet, true to Karacknid determination, they tried anyway. It took just three salvos from Tasata-su’s fleet to wipe them out completely.

Jonathan allowed two more hours to pass while his bombard cruisers continued their attack. Only when Harte assured him that almost no more damage could be done to the battlestations, did he give the order to advance. With Imperial at the head, twenty thousand warships closed into missile range of the orbital stations. They passed by the planet just long enough to fire one massive salvo. One was almost all that was needed. Though the battlestations fired two hundred thousand missiles in return, demonstrating their offensive capabilities, it was a different story when the Allied salvo closed in on them.

Barely a tenth of the defensive fire expected from the battlestations reached out to intercept the Allied missiles. So many missiles breached the Gal-tak fire that almost every battlestation suffered multiple hits. When the explosions ceased, less than one hundred and fifty of the original two thousand battlestations remained functional. In contrast, Jonathan’s ships shot down all but one lucky missile, which burned out its destructive energies against a Kulrean worldship’s shields, doing no damage.

“Give O’Kane the go-ahead,” Jonathan ordered once it was clear how devastating the salvo had been.

As the main Allied fleet began to slow and prepare to pass by the planet again in just over an hour, O’Kane’s squadron emerged from stealth. A thousand warships and twenty troop ships appeared almost right on top of the remnants of the Gal-tak battlestations. Without sensors, the stations had failed to detect their approach. Two quick missile salvos dispatched the remaining orbital defenses. From the warships and troop carriers, hundreds of shuttles launched and raced down through the planet’s atmosphere. Far sooner than expected, the Karacknids on the surface found themselves under attack.

*

“Touchdown in thirty seconds!” the assault shuttle’s copilot called out loudly over the shuttle’s COM channel. “It’s looking hot down there!”

Imperial Guard Marine Captain Thomas Dawes grunted. Of course, it was going to be a bloody hot landing—they were being deployed right into the heart of the planet’s capital city! “Get ready,” he said to his marines. “Remember, we spend as little time on the roof as possible. Securing the top floor is the priority, then we assess and push down from there. This isn’t our first rodeo, so let’s not get our panties in a twist. Stay calm, and do not hesitate. If it looks like a threat, take it out. Remember, these are the scum who sent a warfleet to nuke our worlds, so show them no mercy!”

As his marines grunted in acknowledgment, Dawes pulled up the live feed from the shuttle’s sensors onto his HUD. The shuttle had already breached the planet’s atmosphere and was now racing along the surface, staying low to avoid the city’s aerial defenses.

Ahead, the city was quickly coming into view. Spires dotted the horizon, and soon thousands of smaller buildings could be seen as well. The sky above was ablaze with color. Hundreds of shuttles and Marine atmospheric fighters were strafing the city, while laser beams and fire from other weapons systems rose up to meet them. Smoke from numerous fires was already obscuring many of the city's larger spires.

Dawes watched for a few seconds, grimaced, then switched off the feed and turned to look up and down the two rows of special forces Marines sitting with him in the shuttle. They were sixteen of the toughest soldiers he had ever served with or commanded. Dawes’s company had been handpicked by General Johnston. All had seen action on New Shanghai against the Karacknid troops or on Anaconsada against the Silizzarus. Now they had been brought together for one purpose.

"Final checks," Dawes said to his marines, though they were already looking over their weapons. He did the same, making sure his plasma rifle was fully charged, checking all the systems of his combat armor, and pulling his nano-carbon short sword an inch out of its sheath to ensure it wasn’t sticking. After his first face-to-face encounter with a Karacknid warrior, he had ordered the short sword made. Every marine was equipped with a long knife, but against a Karacknid warrior’s razor-sharp claws, Dawes preferred a short sword in addition to his knife.

“We’re entering the combat zone,” the copilot warned.

Moments later, the shuttle began to jink and dive, carrying out evasive maneuvers. Dawes clenched his fists as his harness clamped his combat armor tightly to the shuttle’s deck. This was always the part he hated. For the next few seconds, he was helpless and completely at the mercy of the pilot’s skill. He would rather face ten Karacknid warriors one-on-one than be this vulnerable. But he had no choice, so he tried not to think about a laser beam melting the shuttle to slag as he was jostled about in his armor.

“Five seconds,” the copilot called out. “Leveling off now.”

Immediately, the special forces marines sprang into action. Everyone undid their harnesses, stood to their feet, and turned to face the shuttle’s rear access ramp. The force of the shuttle decelerating hard made everyone brace themselves and bend their knees. Then the ramp began to open. Daylight and thick smoke from the smoke grenades deployed by the shuttle billowed into the cabin.

With the shuttle hovering over the roof of a six-story building, the first marines ran along the rear access ramp and jumped. Even as they disappeared from view, the next two were already jumping after them. Dawes was the seventh out of the shuttle. As he leaped into the smoke, he hoped the others had already cleared the landing area. After a couple of seconds of free fall, the boots of his combat armor slammed into the roof with a heavy thud. Dawes rolled forward to absorb the impact, then sprang to his feet. Infrared and LiDAR sensors in his combat armor mapped out the roof of the building on his HUD despite the smoke.

"Secure the area," Dawes ordered as he selected what looked like a hatch on his HUD. "Hastings, watch that in case someone comes up through it."

Ahead of him, in one corner of the flat roof, two Marines were already kneeling down, setting their explosives. Dawes moved over to them, glancing at their work, then stepped to the edge of the building and looked out over the side. One of the smoke grenades from the shuttle had landed on the street below, but he could still see movement down there. No one pointed a weapon up at him, but from the movements of the Karacknids, he guessed they were warriors. He spotted at least six heading toward the ground floor of the building.

“We’re going to have company soon!” he called out as he spun around to his marines. “Are the charges ready?”

“Ready now,” a marine said as the two beside Dawes stood up.

The roar of the shuttle’s engines told Dawes that the rest of his half-platoon had landed on the roof. “Get clear. Blow them in three.”

Taking five quick strides, Dawes moved out of the way and crouched down with his back to the charges. They went off with a small pop. Turning quickly, Dawes saw small chunks of rubble flying in every direction. Before most of the debris hit the ground, the two marines who had set the charges were already jumping down through the hole.

“Move!” Dawes ordered. “Secure the upper floor and its two staircases. Then we’ll move down the eastern one if it’s clear,” he instructed his marines, though they needed no reminding. The building they had landed on had been chosen because it was built following a standard design the Free Karacknids had shared with their new allies. Every marine knew the layout by heart now, along with the rest of the plan.

Dawes watched both with his eyes and on his HUD as twelve of his marines jumped through the hole and began to spread out around the floor below him. Immediately, they started encountering Karacknids. The first two were clearly children. Even so, they both charged the marine who had barged into what was probably their home. Two quick blows with the butt of a plasma rifle knocked them out before their young claws could do any damage. As Dawes jumped through the hole, the sound of a plasma rifle firing told him his marines were already encountering stiffer resistance.

“Floor clear,” Sergeant Randal reported just fifteen seconds after the charges had been blown.

Dawes had already made it to the eastern staircase. "McMillian and Alpha squad, take point," he ordered, following right behind the marines as they began their descent.

Moments later, the main hallway of the next floor came into view. The explosion and sounds of fighting above had already drawn several male Karacknids out of their apartments. Snarls escaped the lips of a couple as they spotted the marines. Dawes joined Alpha squad as they raised their weapons. For a moment, no one moved, then the nearest Karacknid unsheathed his claws and started to step toward Sergeant McMillian. That was all the justification the Sergeant needed. Plasma bolts cut down the Karacknid before he could take his second step.

The sound of the plasma rifle spitting its deadly bolts threw the rest of the Karacknids into action. With roars and howls, they charged. Dawes took down two of them with headshots as the rest fell to Alpha squad's accurate fire. "Keep moving," Dawes ordered. "Randal, watch those apartments," he added to Beta squad's Sergeant.

They made it down two more floors before encountering the first real resistance. Laser beams and a badly thrown grenade sent McMillian's squad scrambling back up the stairs. "Warriors!" McMillian shouted. His squad returned fire and hurled their own grenades down the stairwell. As soon as the grenades detonated, Alpha squad attempted to charge again, yet one of their number was cut down, forcing them to fall back, dragging their injured comrade with them.

“Beta squad, with me, to the second stairwell,” Dawes snapped. They were working on a tight schedule and couldn’t afford to get bogged down.

Taking point, Dawes charged through the corridors as fast as his enhanced muscles and combat armor allowed him. Twice, he came upon male Karacknids. Shoulder charges crumpled them to the floor. He couldn’t take the risk of waiting to see if they intended to be hostile or not.

Just as he reached the next stairwell, he ran straight into several armored Karacknid warriors racing up the stairs. Both groups were startled by the other’s presence. Dawes reacted immediately. Without stopping his run, he swung his plasma rifle, slamming it into the lead Karacknid warrior. The warrior tumbled down the stairs into his comrades. Dawes unleashed a stream of plasma bolts into the pile of warriors as they fell over one another. None got up.

“Flank the other stairwell,” Dawes ordered Sergeant Randal as they raced down to the next floor. “I’ll hold here with Gamma.”

Moving past the tangle of bodies, Dawes took up a defensive position in case more Karacknid warriors tried to flank Alpha squad. None appeared. Mere seconds later, the sound of fresh fighting from the stairwell reached his ears. Then Randal spoke over the company COM channel. “Stairs are clear, Alpha. The way is open. We’ll take point now.”

“Take point here, Gamma,” Dawes instructed the squad with him. “We’ll meet you at the bottom, Randal.”

As his marines rushed down both stairwells, Dawes pulled up a feed from the marines who had taken point. Thankfully, they encountered no more warriors.

“Secure the exits,” Dawes ordered once they reached the ground floor. He expanded the map on his HUD. “Lieutenants, check in,” he requested.

There were three other Lieutenants in his company, each with a platoon of sixteen additional special forces marines who had been deployed on the roofs of adjacent buildings. They quickly began reporting their status to Dawes. Two groups had beaten his squads to the ground floor of their buildings, while the third had encountered stiffer resistance. Dawes forced himself to wait patiently while they fought through several squads of enemy warriors.

“Time to move,” he said to his Lieutenants as soon as his fourth platoon was in position.

Together, the lead squads of each platoon moved out of their buildings and into the street that connected them all. Keeping in their four formations, with two in front on either side of the street and two following in the rear, Dawes' company began to advance through the Karacknid city. Every marine’s head snapped back and forth, the nose of their plasma rifles sweeping for any sudden attack from any direction.

Dawes stayed in the middle of his company. While keeping an eye on his surroundings, he also tapped into the command net to get a visual of how the general assault was progressing. All across the city, companies of regular and special forces marines had landed and were moving to secure key buildings and districts. With so many companies attacking so many targets, the strategy was designed to make it difficult for the defenders to coordinate a response. That didn’t mean the commander of the Karacknid ground troops wouldn’t try to bring his forces against different parts of the landings. So far, none of the nearby companies had encountered a large formation of Karacknid warriors, but it was only a matter of time.

As his force continued to make good progress, Dawes extended his focus further up the wide street they were on. About a klick ahead of his lead squad, there was a ninety-degree turn, and just a hundred yards beyond that, a large gatepost was built into a massive wall over four stories tall. The wall marked the Clan Lord’s palace—Dawes’ target. The drone feeds already swarming the city showed Dawes that the warriors inside were braced and ready for a fight.

“Captain, I think we’re about to encounter some trouble!” a marine called out, snapping Dawes' attention back to his own company.

Looking ahead, he saw what the marine was talking about. Dawes swore. Tens of Karacknid males were pouring out onto the street several hundred yards ahead of them. Some were looking around, scanning back and forth. Then arms were raised, pointing at the marines. “Someone’s got the word out about us!” Dawes warned his unit. “We need to get to the staging house, no matter what. Pick up the speed before more of them gather!”

Abandoning caution, the marines broke into a fast jog. Even as they ran, more and more Karacknids came pouring out into the streets. None were armed with the laser rifles typically used by Karacknid warriors, but they all had their claws extended. Then, a group suddenly burst out of an apartment complex the marines were passing by. Battle cries erupted as fifteen Karacknids charged into the marines. Plasma bolts cut them down, but one got close enough to slash a Marine’s armored thigh, sending him to the ground with a grunt.

“Get him on his feet!” Dawes ordered. “We can’t slow down.”

“Captain, twelve o’clock!” another marine called out in warning.

Dawes’ eyes flicked forward just as plasma rifle fire began to cut through the charging mass of Karacknids. Hundreds of them were rushing down the street. Here and there, some opened fire with laser pistols.

“Take cover!” Dawes ordered, instantly realizing they couldn’t fight such a mob out in the open. “Prioritize those with weapons and stand your ground! Gamma and Delta squads, watch our backs. I don’t want any more surprises coming from the buildings behind us.”

Following his own orders, Dawes ducked behind a Karacknid ground vehicle. He lobbed a grenade over the vehicle toward the front of the charging mob. When it detonated, he popped his head up and started picking off targets with his rifle. Though distasteful memories of the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of Silizzarus civilians briefly flashed in his mind, he gritted his teeth and kept firing. His unit had a mission, and nothing would stop him. If the Karacknids insisted on throwing their lives away, he would oblige them.

The battle lasted less than thirty seconds. Whoever had sent the Karacknids to their deaths would be disappointed. One marine was killed by a laser beam to the chest, but none of the attackers made it close enough to use their claws.

“We keep moving,” Dawes ordered after confirming the marine’s death. “To the staging house.”

As they advanced, a few more Karacknids appeared but quickly retreated into their buildings when hit by plasma fire. Less than a minute later, the first squads reached the house. It was another apartment complex at the end of the wide street they had traversed, right on the corner that led toward the Clan Lord’s palace. As soon as the ground floor was clear, Dawes ordered his company inside. Then, he sent a COM message back up into orbit. They were in position.

The reply he received was just two words: Thirty seconds.

“The other companies are in position,” Dawes told his unit. “Catch your breath and check your equipment. We charge in twenty-five seconds.”

As he checked his own gear, Dawes was surprised to find one less grenade than he had expected. He didn’t even remember using it. Within moments, he took stock of his remaining weapons. Then a fresh message came from orbit, just a series of beeps.

“Get ready,” he said to his Marines. Alright, let’s do this, he thought as he steeled himself for the attack. This was the crucial part of their mission.

Chapter 17

Imperial Marines have had a role to play in every war. In my campaign against the Galatar, they proved invaluable. Yet it was in the Antarian Wars that they came into their own.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

The moment he heard the roar of shuttles overhead, Dawes pulled up a live feed from one of the nano drones he had out in the street. He smiled when he saw the Karacknids guarding the gatehouse scrambling in confusion. But then several missiles launched from the gatehouse’s defenses, wiping the smile from his face. A second later, an explosion overhead signaled a shuttle had been hit. Moments after that, the attacking force retaliated. At least twelve hypervelocity missiles streaked through the sky and slammed into the gatehouse. Chunks of the building, weapons emplacements, and dead Karacknid warriors were hurled into the air. As the shuttles zoomed overhead, they dropped smoke and chaff grenades, then pulled up and disappeared into the clouds.

“Go, go, go!” Dawes ordered as soon as the shuttles ceased firing.

Sixty-two special forces marines charged out of the apartment complex’s three doors. At full speed, they raced across the three hundred yards to the now-ruined gatehouse. The entire structure was a pile of rubble. Most of the Karacknids who had been defending it were dead or buried, but not all. As Dawes reached the debris, Karacknid-sized shapes began to rise out of the smoke. Plasma and laser fire erupted. Soldiers on both sides fell. Dawes shot down two enemy warriors, then slammed an armored fist into the face of a third who lunged at him from behind some rubble. A quick burst of plasma bolts to the stomach finished him off.

Jumping from rubble to rubble, Dawes was the first to mount the broken wall and gatehouse. In the distance, he could see two other ruined gatehouses. Both were also being overrun by special forces marines. However, those companies were just tasked with securing the palace’s outer walls so no one could escape. Dawes’ company was the one tasked with seeking out and capturing the targets. Fires also burned along other sections of the wall, marking where heavy laser cannons and other weapon emplacements had been.

Though smoke still filled the air, his armor’s sensors allowed him to peer down into the compound. The palace was a large, three-story building with a central dome. The dome housed a miniature throne room designed to replicate the one on Gayla, the Karacknid homeworld. That wasn’t Dawes’ immediate target, though. According to intel, the right side of the palace contained the living quarters. As more marines joined him, Dawes mapped out lines of advance for his platoons, directing them to move from cover to cover. Each platoon already had a breaching point assigned.

“I don’t see any movement out there, but be careful,” he cautioned his Lieutenants and sergeants. “And remember, alive if possible. Keep the missiles and grenades to a minimum.”

When his Lieutenants acknowledged his orders, Dawes gave the command, “Move!”

Almost as soon as his boots touched the compound’s gravel surface, laser beams began flashing past him. Dawes swore as he sprinted in a zigzag pattern toward the cover he had assigned to his platoon. Karacknid warriors were firing from nearly every window and door of the palace. From the erratic accuracy of the shots, Dawes guessed many were shooting blindly through the smoke, but marines were already falling.

“Covering fire!” Dawes shouted, directing his company to return fire. He sent more nano drones forward to get a better fix on enemy positions. Karacknid drones suddenly appeared, and a battle broke out between the two groups of small flying robots.

Several of Dawes’ drones managed to get close enough to give him an accurate read on the Karacknids’ firing positions. “We’ve got them suppressed. Keep up the fire and push forward,” he ordered.

Sprinting from cover to cover, the squads of Dawes' four platoons began to leapfrog one another as they advanced. Dawes stayed back, using the feed from the drones to aid his own covering fire. He grunted in satisfaction as he took out one Karacknid warrior firing from a third-story window and no others appeared to take its place. Then he, too, began to move forward.

As the marine squads got closer to the palace, their fire became more deadly. Yet as the smoke thinned, so did the defenders’ fire. Fresh smoke and chaff grenades thrown by the marines helped, but the advance was still deadly for Dawes’ company. By the time the first squads reached the palace's walls, twelve marines were down. There was no time to get them any help. “Prepare the breaching charges,” Dawes ordered as he sprinted the last fifty yards to the palace.

He slammed into its thick walls, bringing himself to a stop moments later. Then he checked his chronometer. Just six minutes had passed since his force had stepped off their shuttles. They were on schedule. We just have to hope they didn’t run, he thought. The palace was supposed to be the best-defended building in the city. Yet it was possible their targets had evacuated before the landings even began. If so, it would be a nightmare trying to root them out of wherever they had gone to hide. Only one way to find out, Dawes told himself. “Blow the charges!” he ordered.

Four separate shaped charges blew holes into the palace's walls. Certain that all the entrances would be heavily guarded, the marines made their own way in. Before the Karacknid defenders could react, each platoon charged in. All attacked from different locations, but they drove toward the same point. Drones and LiDAR had already mapped out the building's interior, so the marines pushed toward the largest living quarters on the second floor.

Almost immediately, the marines encountered resistance. Karacknid warriors threw themselves at the intruders. In every corridor, laser rifles and claws struck out at Dawes' company. The special forces marines of the Imperial Guard were the best the Empire had to offer, however, and they fought back with even greater vigor. As Dawes gunned down one Karacknid at close range and trampled over the dead warrior's body, he noticed the ornate armor the warrior was wearing. Some kind of Karacknid Guard units, he figured. As more of his marines began to fall, Dawes grunted and rejoined the attack.

Enemy warriors appeared thick and fast in front of him. Dawes' company's advance was too rapid for the Karacknids to block corridors or set up defensive positions. Instead, the Karacknids flung themselves at the marines as they continued moved through the palace. In the space of thirty seconds, Dawes shot two Karacknids, saw the squad he was with kill six more, and cursed as the squad lost two of its own. Then they reached a small secondary staircase leading up to the apartment they were targeting. Fire immediately rained down on the lead marines of Dawes' platoon.

“Grenades, then we charge,” Dawes ordered.

As soon as the grenades exploded, the eleven remaining marines in Dawes' platoon rushed up the stairs. Two more fell to laser beams, but then they were among the Karacknids. Plasma bolts burned through their armor, killing all four instantly. Knowing they were close, Dawes took the lead and charged down a narrow corridor. At its end, he knew the door opened into a large living area with several bedrooms leading off from it. That was where they expected their targets to be. On his HUD, he could see his other platoons were also advancing on the living quarters from two other angles, blocking off any possibility of escape.

When he reached the door, Dawes cracked it open and sent nano drones in to scout ahead. Immediately, the heavy door came under fire. Whatever it was made of began to melt under the onslaught. Though there was no immediate sign of the Karacknids he had come to capture, Dawes counted at least fifteen warriors in the room. All wore the ornate armor he had seen earlier. They are still here, he was sure. This was their honor guard.

“Hold up here,” he said to his platoon before switching COM channels to speak to his Lieutenants. “Secure the perimeter of the apartment, then hold position.”

Next, Dawes did something that, if you had told him about it a year ago, he never would have believed. Taking a deep breath, he called out loudly, allowing his armor to translate his words. “Cease your firing… Cease firing,” he repeated. It took a couple of seconds, but to his surprise, the Karacknid warriors did stop firing on the door. “We have you surrounded. We have not come here to kill your charges. Surrender them to us, and they—and you—can live.”

From one of the drones still functioning in the room, Dawes watched as a massive Karacknid warrior stepped out from behind an upturned table he had been using as cover. The warrior held up a clawed hand and bellowed back, “You swine fight without honor. I will kill them myself before I’ll let you take them.”

Dawes then did something even more unbelievable. Though his mind screamed against it, his instincts took over. All the briefings he had received on Karacknid culture, and the time he had spent training with Free Karacknid warriors, guided his actions. Slinging his plasma rifle, he slowly opened the ruined door and stepped out in front of the Karacknid warrior. Behind him, he heard his marines swearing, but he ignored them. “And what if I won them from you in a fair fight?” he asked, looking up into the Karacknid’s eyes. “Or is it you who has no honor? My Imperator has already killed your Clan Lord, yet you still refuse to accept his rule. What will it take for you to accept defeat? Do I have to kill you with my bare hands?”

The Karacknid snarled, then laughed. “You would fight me in hand-to-hand combat?”

Dawes nodded and slowly drew his short sword and nano-carbon knife. “If your warriors agree to surrender if I beat you.”

“And what if I win?” the warrior asked, saliva already beginning to drip between his teeth.

“Then you will have the pleasure of killing me,” Dawes said. “And then you can try and kill your charges before my marines take them if you wish.” It wasn’t exactly a fair deal, Dawes couldn’t really stop the Karacknid from killing his charges if he wanted to, but Dawes didn’t need to make it one. The warrior knew he was surrounded and outnumbered.

“Challenge accepted,” the warrior snarled, then dashed forward.

For someone so large, he moved with ferocious speed. As a clawed hand came slashing toward him, Dawes just managed to get his short sword up in time to deflect the blow away from his ducking head. The Karacknid’s other hand came sweeping up in an uppercut that nearly connected with Dawes’ chin, but he threw himself to the ground and rolled away. He was on his feet in an instant, quickly backing up just in time to avoid another slash.

Moving further back, Dawes made some room for himself as he assessed the situation. The Karacknid warrior was big, strong, and fast, but Dawes had been training with Free Karacknid warriors for months now. Knowing what he needed to do, Dawes went on the offensive. Using all the speed his arguments and combat armor gave him, he began to swing wildly with his short sword and nano-carbon knife. His attack was designed to put the Karacknid warrior on the defensive. It worked. The enemy was quickly forced backward, using his claws to deflect each blow. One strike with either of Dawes’ weapons could pierce his armor.

Though Karacknid warriors hated being on the defensive, they loved to counterattack. Dawes’ wild swings were meant to draw out just such a move. With one extra wild swing, Dawes intentionally left himself open. The Karacknid pounced. Deflecting the sloppy right-handed slash from Dawes’ short sword with his left hand, the Karacknid commander thrust the same clawed hand straight at Dawes’ throat.

Dawes was ready. Turning his shoulder into the attack, he let the razor-sharp claws gouge into his armor. Despite the strength of the combat armor, the sheer force of the thrust drove the tips of the Karacknid's claws into his flesh, sending white-hot pain shooting through his shoulder and chest.

Something else happened at the same time, however. The force of the blow twisted Dawes' left shoulder back and away from his enemy, whipping Dawes' left hand up toward the Karacknid warrior's chest, now close to him. Dawes then did something Karacknid warriors couldn’t do—he released his weapon. In an instant, his nano-carbon knife flashed across the distance between them and embedded itself in the Karacknid warrior’s chest with a thud.

Dawes knew the knife wasn’t long enough to deliver a killing blow, but it served its purpose. Shock and surprise flashed across the Karacknid warrior's face. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated. That was all Dawes needed. The momentum that had spun his left shoulder back brought his right shoulder whipping around toward the Karacknid commander. Adding his own strength to the move, Dawes' short sword struck out at the Karacknid’s neck. The force of the blow sliced through the Karacknid’s armor, severing his head clean off.

For a moment, the Karacknid's body remained standing, the head still in place. Then the head slid off to one side and hit the floor with a wet plop. A moment later, the body toppled backward. Dawes gasped for a breath as fiery pain spread down his left arm and across his chest. He ignored it and looked around at the remaining Karacknid warriors. They still held their laser rifles, but none were pointing at him. Instead, they stared—many with open mouths—at the body of their fallen commander.

Dawes acted quickly. Kneeling down, he grabbed the decapitated head and held it up for the warriors to see. "Throw down your weapons! Do it now, or you dishonor yourselves, your commander, and your dead Clan Lord."

For several seconds, the warriors stared at the head, then began to glance at one another. Knowing he was dead anyway if they decided to fire, Dawes retracted his helmet and met their eyes. "Throw down your weapons! Your Lord is dead, and your charges are mine. There is no honor in your deaths now."

Dawes held his breath, his body tensing, anticipating the first laser beams. None came. Instead, several warriors looked toward one of their own, who then glanced at Dawes. After a long moment, the Karacknid gave a slight nod. Slowly, he lowered his weapon below his waist and then dropped it. The others followed suit.

Instantly, Dawes' marines came barreling into the large room from several doors. "Secure them and search the bedrooms!" Dawes ordered immediately.

Before he could move, marines rushed past him, kicking down doors. "Over here!" one called out.

In a few quick strides, Dawes entered the bedroom. What he saw made him smile. A Karacknid woman was huddled in one of the corners, her arms wrapped around three young Karacknid boys. These were the Clan Lord's sons and heirs. Activating his COM unit, Dawes sent a three-word signal up to orbit: ‘We have them.’ "Secure them," he ordered, before stepping out of the room to find a seat.

His augments and armor were already pumping him full of drugs to ease the pain of his wound. Still, his left arm hung awkwardly, and Dawes could feel his shoulder was badly torn. It will heal, he told himself, glancing down at the body of the dead Karacknid warrior. It could have been a lot worse.

Chapter 18

In times of war, the niceties of civilization must often be put on hold. When our species faces the threat of extinction or enslavement, we cannot abandon who we are. Yet at the same time, we must do all we can for those whom we have sworn to protect. This is a delicate balance every aspiring naval officer must learn to walk.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Seconds after General Johnston confirmed the Clan Lord’s heirs had been captured, Jonathan’s shuttle took off. Accompanied by fifty other shuttles and over a hundred Hellcats and marine atmospheric fighters, the shuttle dove down towards the Gal-tak capital city. Smoke rose from a thousand fires throughout the city, and fresh explosions and flashes showed there was still plenty of fighting going on. Despite them, speed was what mattered now, and Jonathan decided to take the risk.

Within minutes of launching, his shuttle landed inside the palace compound. Imperial Guard marines rushed out, confirmed the area was secure, and then allowed Jonathan to disembark. As he stepped onto the gravel surface, he recognized the marine Captain who had come to greet him.

“Captain Dawes,” he said, giving the marine a salute. “I watched most of your assault from orbit. You did a fine job. How’s your shoulder?”

“It hurts, Admiral, but my implants have the pain under control for now,” Dawes replied.

“Well, when I’m done here, you’re to get yourself back to orbit and see one of the doctors, understood?”

Dawes nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jonathan smiled. “And I’m sure once they’re done with you, there’ll be a long line of well-wishers wanting to buy you a drink in your mess. I’ve never seen a Karacknid dispatched so flamboyantly before. I might need to get myself one of those swords of yours.”

Dawes looked down, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thank you, sir.”

The sound of another shuttle approaching made them both turn and look up. As they watched, the Karacknid shuttle gently touched down beside Jonathan’s. General Tasata-su marched out, leading a cadre of his warriors. He and Jonathan exchanged nods, but Tasata-su’s eyes widened when he saw Dawes.

“Is it safe to come so close to you, Marine?” Tasata-su asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“General,” Dawes said, giving the Karacknid a hesitant salute.

Tasata-su laughed. “It’s strange for me too, Captain. One minute you’re killing some of my people, the next you’re saluting me. In any case, that was an impressive display. I have no doubt you’ll be getting many requests to spar with my best warriors now.” Tasata-su’s eyes glanced at Dawes’ awkwardly held left arm. “Once you’re fully healed, of course.”

“Shall we go see them?” Jonathan asked, wanting to get to business as quickly as possible.

“This way, Admiral,” Dawes said, leading them into the palace.

As they passed a line of injured marines being tended to by a field medic, Jonathan felt the urge to pause and speak with them but pressed on, making a mental note to return when his task was done. They also passed other marines carrying Karacknid bodies out of the palace. Inside, every corridor bore signs of the fierce fighting. If the palace was ever to be used again, it would require extensive repairs.

After ascending a flight of stairs, Dawes led Jonathan and Tasata-su into a large living space that Jonathan recognized from the visuals of Dawes’ fight with the Karacknid commander. Inside the same bedroom, the Clan Lord’s wife and three sons were tied to chairs. Jonathan stepped in front of the woman and gave her a small bow.

“Shan-Travasan, I am Imperator Jonathan Somerville. I’ve come to offer my condolences for your husband. He fought valiantly against me in Trava-klan.”

“You are no Imperator,” the Karacknid female hissed, then spat at Jonathan’s feet for good measure.

Tasata-su's claws shot out, and he lunged at Shan-Travasan. Fear flashed across her face.

"General!" Jonathan said sharply, bringing the Karacknid warrior to a sudden halt. "I am not in the business of killing prisoners," Jonathan continued more calmly. "Her insults are meaningless."

"As you wish, Imperator," Tasata-su said, turning and bowing to Jonathan.

Jonathan's eyes remained fixed on Shan-Travasan. He saw the surprise she was unable to hide. Almost everyone in the Karacknid Empire knew who Tasata-su was. He had once been a leading General in service to Tanaka-lan and a senior commander in his own clan. His obedience to Jonathan was another sign that Jonathan truly had a claim to the Gal-tak’s loyalty now that he had conquered them.

"Now," Jonathan said, trying to sound more pleasant, "let us have a conversation. By the traditions of your people and your Clan, I am your rightful ruler. My father killed your Imperator, and I have taken his place as his heir. I’ve also killed your Clan Lord in Trava-klan, giving me the right to appoint your next Clan Lord." Jonathan’s gaze shifted to Shan-Travasan’s three sons. "I know it might be customary for your sons to be put to death, but that is not how I wish to do things. So, here is my offer. If you and your sons will publicly swear your oaths to me as Imperator, I will appoint your oldest son as the new Clan Lord. Then we stop this fighting and end the needless bloodshed. What do you say?"

Shan-Travasan snarled at Jonathan. "Never! We will never serve you!" She made to spit at Jonathan again, but this time Tasata-su was too quick for her. As she opened her mouth, he backhanded her across the cheek.

"Show respect!" he demanded. "Your husband fought and died with honor, and now you are dishonoring him."

Shan-Travasan slowly turned her head back around to face Tasata-su, but she said nothing more. Jonathan wanted to plead with her. Even now, hundreds of his people and thousands of Karacknids were still fighting and dying in the city. Yet, he knew he couldn’t—an Imperator didn’t beg. Turning from their mother, Jonathan assessed the three young male Karacknids. The oldest was just twelve, yet he and his brothers were all glaring at Jonathan with murder in their eyes. Jonathan sighed.

"Very well. We will take them up into orbit and hold them. If they won’t change their minds, they can be shipped back to Earth as prisoners. I will not risk them trying to lead a resistance to our rule here."

"Understood, Admiral," Dawes said. "I’ll make the arrangements immediately."

"And then get yourself to orbit as well," Jonathan reminded the marine Captain.

Dawes nodded. Jonathan then caught Tasata-su’s eye, and the General followed him back out of the apartment and into the damaged throne room. Jonathan took a few moments to look around, then turned to Tasata-su. "There will be no easy peace here, then."

"No, I’m afraid not, Admiral," Tasata-su replied. "Though I am confident that as they see your strength, more of the Clan’s people will begin to surrender. We already have the ships and crews of the Clan Lord’s fleet who surrendered. Others will join them." He gestured toward the apartment above them. "But I do not think she will come around."

"All right then, we have no choice but to do this the hard way," Jonathan said reluctantly. "Begin landing your troops around the city. You can help General Johnston’s marines secure it, and then we can plan how to take the rest of the planet. Once you get your people moving, I want you to choose the best candidate from the officers who surrendered. We will appoint him governor of the city and see where we go from there. If he proves himself, we may have to appoint him the new Clan Lord. But if we can convince another senior figure in their clan to join us, that would be better."

"It would be wise," Tasata-su agreed. "The more senior commanders who surrendered were just captains. Most of the clan’s senior leadership would not take kindly to having a mere captain promoted above them all."

"Then they'd better start surrendering to us and swearing their loyalty to me!" Jonathan said, his frustration boiling over.

"I will send out a message to the planet and speak to any senior clan officials we capture," Tasata-su promised. "It may take time for them to come around to the new reality, but whether they admit it or not, their sense of honor will press in on them. None can deny that you killed their Clan Lord, and it was your fleet that conquered their orbitals, and your marines who secured their capital city. Eventually, they will swear oaths to you."

Jonathan nodded, hoping Tasata-su was right. He knew the magnitude of what he was attempting. Never before had a Karacknid clan en masse sworn allegiance to an Imperator who wasn’t a Karacknid. Before the Free Karacknids had sworn loyalty to his father, such a thing would have been utterly unthinkable. It was a long shot, but Jonathan needed it to happen. He didn’t have the ships or ground forces to occupy every Gal-tak system and world. This was the only way to pacify the territory they had conquered.

*

For the next week, Jonathan and his senior commanders got little rest as they oversaw battle after battle. Once the capital city was secure, Generals Tasata-su and Johnston landed their full forces. Over half a million soldiers then spread out across the planet’s surface, one by one, capturing the rest of the cities and strongholds. Though they were outnumbered at least five to one by Gal-tak warriors, with far more civilians also willing to fight, they steadily gained ground. The threat of orbital bombardment kept the Gal-tak forces scattered and in hiding, while total air superiority allowed Tasata-su and Johnston to airlift their troops across the planet with ease.

At the same time, Jonathan split his fleet, securing the rest of the system and the other four Gal-tak administrative systems. The orbital stations around each inhabited world in those systems were taken, but no ground troops were landed for now, as they were all needed on the Gal-tak homeworld. Despite Tasata-su’s offer, the vast majority of the senior Gal-tak leaders chose to fight and die rather than surrender or be captured.

Unexpectedly, seven days after confronting the heirs of the fallen Clan Lord, Jonathan found himself back in the Gal-tak palace, sitting in its throne room on an ornate chair that had been made for him. Before him, the thick, ornately engraved metallic doors opened, admitting two supplicants who had come to see him. As the two Karacknid leaders walked in, everyone in the room fell silent. Many of Jonathan's senior officers were present, giving the impression that he was holding court. It was all for show, of course, but Jonathan had learned that this was what the Karacknids needed.

The two Karacknids walked slowly down the middle of the room, their backs and heads held high. When they were several paces away from Jonathan’s throne, they dropped to one knee. "Who comes before the one true Imperator?" Tasata-su asked, standing in his most regal battle armor beside Jonathan’s throne.

“I am Farn’star Tal-don,” said the larger Karacknid. “Head of the Kalzono Family. I come to swear allegiance to Imperator Somerville.”

“And I am Haglaf-an Hold-tor, head of the Fan-don Family. I too have come to swear allegiance,” the second Karacknid added.

Though Jonathan knew this moment was coming, he was still surprised to see it unfold. Two days earlier, a fleet of two thousand warships had been detected moving toward the Gal-tak capital by his scouts. Both the Kalzono and Fan-don families paid homage to the Gal-tak Clan, controlling systems in the southwest of the clan’s territory. Tal-don and Hold-tor had been responding to the summons of the Gal-tak Clan Lord to aid in the war effort. However, when they learned of the Clan Lord's death and found themselves surrounded by Admiral Scott’s fleet, they requested an audience with Jonathan. After meeting with General Tasata-su, they agreed to swear oaths to Jonathan, recognizing him as Imperator.

Though neither of these leaders could become the next Gal-tak Clan Lord, the moment was still significant. Tal-don and Hold-tor would be the first non-Free Karacknids to swear allegiance to Jonathan as the true Imperator of the Karacknid Empire. Together, the territories of the Kalzono and Fan-don families made up only about one-twentieth of the Gal-tak Clan’s space, but this step was monumental none the less.

Despite the importance of the occasion, Jonathan broke protocol. Before Tasata-su could prompt the two supplicants to swear their oaths, he spoke. “I am honored that you are both here,” he said loudly. Though he could feel Tasata-su's surprise, Jonathan didn’t turn to the General. This was something he needed to do himself. “Before you swear your oaths, I must make clear what I will demand of you. First, your warships and troops will be used to help pacify the remaining Gal-tak worlds and, eventually, the worlds of the other clans. I will not waste the lives of your warriors, nor will I take all of them from you, but your people will be required to fight.

“Second, I will require both of your families to give up every system you currently control that is home to an enslaved species. In the territories I control, I intend to liberate each and every sentient species that your empire has enslaved. When you swear oaths to me, this will be the first thing I demand of you.”

In keeping with protocol, neither Karacknid looked up at Jonathan as he spoke. When he finished, they turned their heads toward one another. “I understand that this is a difficult prospect,” Jonathan continued. “Which is why, when you swear your oaths, I also intend to expand your families' territories.” He tapped on a portable holo display, projecting a star map of the Gal-tak Clan’s systems. The territories controlled by both families were marked in red and green, and additional systems, flashing red and green, indicated the ones Jonathan intended to grant to them. In both cases, the families would see their territories double, despite the loss of key systems that would be returned to their original inhabitants.

“You may speak if you have any questions,” Jonathan said, breaking another tradition. “I want you to swear your oaths willingly, so ask what you need to.”

Neither Karacknid spoke right away. After several seconds, the larger warrior, Tal-don, looked up—not at Jonathan but at Tasata-su. He continued to focus on the General even as he addressed Jonathan. “The worlds you would take from us have been in our possession for hundreds of years. They are the source of much of our wealth and industrial capacity.”

“And now they will be no longer,” Jonathan replied firmly. “If you do not give them up willingly, we will take them from you and destroy everything your families have in the process. These worlds are no longer yours. Whether you like it or not, this is what must happen. What I am offering is the chance to maintain your families’ status despite the loss of these worlds. Furthermore, with the resources I will provide, you will be able to mine great quantities of materials that you can then trade to the species we will be liberating. Through commerce, both of your families will be able to increase your wealth far faster than through conquest.”

“If we do not swear, what will happen to us here today?” the second Karacknid asked.

“Your ships will be forfeit, but you and your people will be free to return to your systems,” Jonathan replied. “You surrendered peacefully; I will always honor that.”

“But if you go back on your word and dishonor my Imperator, I give you my word that I will hunt both of you down and exterminate you,” Tasata-su said, his voice hard. “You came here to swear to your true Imperator. Once you have given your oaths, you must obey him no matter what. That is what you are committing to.”

Both Karacknids glanced at one another again before the larger one spoke. “That is what we still intend to do, General.”

Tasata-su took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and spoke formally. “Supplicants may rise and give their oaths.”

Both Karacknids lowered their faces to the floor in front of Jonathan and spoke in unison. “I and my people swear to give Imperator Somerville my fealty, to obey him in everything, and to fight to the death for his honor.”

“And I swear to protect you as my vassals, and to honor you and your families, no matter the cost to myself,” Jonathan replied. “Now rise and join the ranks of my officers as their equals.”

Both Karacknids quickly stood and hesitantly moved toward the gathered officers. Most of the Allied officers and Free Karacknids simply stared at them, but a few Karacknid commanders stepped forward, extending their hands and arms, embracing in the Karacknid fashion. Other officers then nodded or introduced themselves. Soon, the room filled with the sounds of conversation as officers from both sides mingled. Jonathan let the conversations continue for a few minutes, exchanging small talk with Tasata-su. Then he nodded to the General. “It’s time.” There was still one more important matter to attend to that day.

Although it was far from ideal, Tasata-su cleared his throat and bellowed loudly, “The next supplicant may approach.”

With a shrill squeak, the metallic doors to the throne room opened again, and a muscular Karacknid warrior walked in with his head bowed. This warrior was a distant cousin of the late Gal-tak Clan Lord, giving him a tenuous claim to the ruling class of the clan. His connection was weak, and everyone expected his rule would be difficult. Despite this, both Tasata-su and Jonathan had agreed on appointing him for two reasons. First, he was a Free Karacknid in all but name. Though he had never openly supported the movement, he had been secretly aiding the Free Karacknid cause within the Gal-tak Clan for several years.

Secondly, and just as importantly, Rasum-tor was big, strong, and fearsome. As he walked between Jonathan’s officers, he towered over most of them, even the other Karacknids. This was crucial, as once Jonathan appointed him as the new Clan Lord, any Gal-tak warrior could challenge him to trava-klan. Since Rasum-tor would be leading the clan on Jonathan’s behalf, Jonathan had no doubt that challengers would emerge. He hoped Rasum-tor's intimidating stature would at least make them think twice.

When Rasum-tor halted in front of Jonathan’s throne and knelt, Tasata-su spoke again. “Supplicant, hear the words of your Imperator.”

“As Imperator, I killed the former Clan Lord of the Gal-tak Clan in trava-klan,” Jonathan said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “Now, I choose to exercise my right to appoint his successor. Rasum-tor, prostrate yourself before me if you intend to accept this responsibility.” As Rasum-tor's chest and face touched the floor, Jonathan continued. “I, Imperator Jonathan Somerville, hereby elevate Rasum-tor to the rank of Clan Lord of the Gal-tak Clan. As your Imperator, I swear to protect you and your people and to uphold the honor of Clan Gal-tak at all times.”

“And I swear my fealty to you, Imperator. You have my oath that I and my Clan will serve you in all things,” Rasum-tor responded.

“Then rise, and join the ranks of my warriors,” Jonathan said, gesturing for Rasum-tor to stand.

Rasum-tor stood, bowed to Jonathan, and then moved to greet the other Karacknid warriors around him. As he did, Jonathan caught Scott's eye, who was standing in the front row of the assembly. They exchanged a smile. The first phase of their plan was complete. They had neutralized one Karacknid clan, hopefully for good. Now we just have to do it again, and again, Jonathan thought as his mind began to shift from the Gal-tak Clan to his next target.

Chapter 19

Much of the Empire’s growth over the last five centuries has been incremental. However, in the beginning, there were several massive expansions that laid the foundation from which our modern borders grew.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Sadarson System, 12th November 2514 AD, (one week later).

"Thank you all for coming," Jonathan said as he stood to address his gathered officers. Every commander in the fleet, of rank Commodore and above, was crammed into Imperial’s large, semi-circular briefing room. Standing at the bottom, Jonathan looked up at the six-tiered rows of seats. Over two hundred officers were present. Despite the losses the fleet had suffered so far in the campaign, there were actually more senior flag officers than when Jonathan had left Earth. Most of the additional officers were Karacknids who had sworn their oaths to join him. In addition, the first supply and reinforcement fleet had arrived, bringing more Allied ships into the fold.

With fresh supplies, warships, and over two thousand fighters, Jonathan and his senior commanders had decided it was time to continue their advance. Given what Jonathan had planned, it was crucial that all his officers understood what would be required of them. That was why he had gathered them.

"I intend for our fleet to break orbit within six hours, so let me get straight to it,” Jonathan said once everyone’s attention was fixed on him. “Now that Sadarson has been secured and all the nearby Gal-tak systems are under our control, it is time to strike out at our next enemy. I have no doubt that the other nearby clans will have learned about what we’ve done here. However, they are all still facing off against one another in their brewing civil war, which means they will be slow to respond to our threat. Likely, they are still underestimating us. That is why we must strike hard and fast once again."

With a tap on the data pad he held, Jonathan activated the room’s large holo display. Above him, a star map of the northern Wilds, the Gal-tak Clan’s territory, and the surrounding clans was projected. Three other clans bordered the Gal-taks. To the east was the Tars’tazans, to the north the Yanum-mi, and to the west, the Dar’kanans. With another tap, the borders and main systems of the Dar’kanan Clan turned red and began to flash.

"Our next target will be the Dar’kanans," Jonathan said. Most of the Allied officers stared up at the map as they studied the strategic situation. Among the Karacknids, however, whispers broke out as they turned to one another and quickly voiced their opinions on what hitting the Dar’kanans meant.

Jonathan gave them a moment, knowing this decision was a surprise. Most of his Karacknid officers, including Tasata-su, had pushed for an immediate advance north to take out the Yanum-mi. From there, they argued, Gayla would be within reach. However, Jonathan wasn’t ready to be that adventurous just yet. He wanted a permanent solution to Humanity’s Karacknid problem. Advancing too far, too quickly, risked them being surrounded and destroyed.

As his eyes moved around the room, Jonathan couldn’t help but smile as he met Georgia’s gaze. After spending five days in Imperial’s sick bay, Doctor Hemingway had given her a clean bill of health, though she had insisted Georgia take a further week off to fully recover. Now Jonathan’s sister was back on full duty, and despite the ordeal she had been through, she seemed as eager as ever to continue the fight against the clans responsible for their father’s death. Jonathan just hoped she wasn’t putting on a brave face for his sake.

After several seconds, Jonathan cleared his throat to bring silence to the room once again. He then brought up another image on the display beside the star map. It showed the Allied fleet split into four groups.

“The Dar’kanans will not know for certain that we are coming for them, but they will suspect. So, here’s what I intend. Admirals Shraw, Scott, Vice Admiral Reverus, and I will each command fleets of eight thousand warships including screening forces.

“We will advance quickly into Dar’kanan territory, raiding as we go. Our movements will not follow a straight line. Instead, we will zigzag across their territory so that our enemy will never know quite where we will strike next.”

The star map updated to show an outline of Jonathan’s plan. Starting from a staging system near the Dar’kanan border, four arrows moved out into Dar’kanan space. The arrows then wove back and forth between different systems. The strategy was an adaptation of tactics Jonathan’s father had borrowed from the Flex-aor. By splitting their forces, the Allied fleet could hit multiple systems simultaneously. Yet, Jonathan intended to keep his fleets much closer together than it might initially appear.

“At the same time, small squadrons from Mindus space will launch raids and feint attacks against the Dar’kanans’ southern border systems. The goal of all of these attacks is to lure Clan Lord Estus-san’s main fleet away from his heavily defended worlds. With our forces spread out and many of his systems under attack, we’ll force Estus-san to fight. Each fleet will have at least two smaller squadrons rapidly advancing ahead, hiding our main fleets’ location and line of advance. We must therefore be ready at a moment’s notice to combine our fleets and strike together when the opportunity presents itself.

"The goal of this campaign is not to conquer Dar’kanan territory but to kill Estus-san and throw his clan into turmoil,” Jonathan clarified. “This will secure our western flank.” Jonathan zoomed out the image to show the entire Karacknid Empire. “As we speak, our second invasion force should be striking the Das’tana from Conclave space. Once they’ve destroyed their fleet, they will move west to strike the Tars’tazan. If we succeed against the Tars’tazan, both of our flanks will be secure, and the path north will be open to us.”

Heads nodded, and many Karacknid officers grinned, revealing their razor-sharp teeth. Jonathan couldn’t help but smile as well. After their victory over the Gal-tak, everyone was eager to push deeper into the heart of the Karacknid Empire. However, he wasn’t ready to risk his supply lines being cut off. Defeating an empire the size of the Karacknids would not be achieved through a quick campaign with one or two decisive battles. Jonathan knew he needed to be as careful and methodical as he was bold.

“We’ve done well so far,” Jonathan continued. “All of you have served your people with skill and honor. Now, let’s take the fight to Estus-san and the Dar’kanan Clan and show them they will never wage war against our people again!” Jonathan smiled as heads nodded and a few Karacknids grunted in approval.

“We will now divide into our four fleets for each senior commander to brief you more fully,” Jonathan said. “Afterward, we will break orbit and head to the Tardan system, which will serve as our supply hub for the campaign. During the journey, your commanders will run simulations and live fire drills to ensure our fleets can fight as one. Listen carefully, train hard, and I’m sure we’ll deliver a blow to Estus-san and his clan that they will never forget! Dismissed.”

As the room burst into noise with a hundred conversations and officers rising to their feet, Jonathan nodded to Scott, Shraw, and Reverus, who sat in front of him. Then, he sought out Georgia. She was still seated, looking at him when he found her. She winked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

I hope she’s ready, Jonathan couldn’t help thinking. Only time would tell.

*

IS Imperial, Tardan system, 26th November 2514 AD, (two weeks later).

Sitting in his office, Jonathan reviewed the latest intel from the scouts he had sent ahead into Dar’kanan Clan territory. A few formations of ships had been detected moving toward the Dar’kanan-Gal-tak border, but together, they numbered no more than three thousand. Aside from them and a few lightly fortified systems, the border was wide open. Jonathan felt confident his fleets could cross it and begin raiding at will.

A beep from the office door made Jonathan look up. “Come in,” he said after the display showed it was Iso.

“They’re all connected and waiting, Admiral,” Iso said as she entered, with Georgia right behind her.

“Take a seat,” Jonathan gestured toward the two chairs opposite him. He then activated the holo display built into his desk. Immediately, images of Shraw, Reverus, and Scott appeared above the desk. “So, is everything ready?”

“We’re ready to depart on your orders,” Scott said, as Reverus and Shraw nodded.

Jonathan nodded in return. “We’ll keep in constant contact, of course. Whoever encounters Estus-san’s fleet first will pin him in place until the others arrive. No heroics. If we can’t combine against him, we’ll fall back. I’d prefer to fight him in open space, but if we have to regroup and face him at one of his fortified systems, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Don’t worry,” Shraw said. “You’ve told us often enough. We won’t take any risks you wouldn’t.”

Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted to hear. The smiles on Georgia and Scott’s faces told him they were thinking the same thing. “Just make sure you call in support right away, even if it’s a smaller fleet,” Jonathan reemphasized. “We have the numerical advantage, and we need to use it wisely.”

“And we will,” Reverus assured him. “It’s a good plan. It will work. And if it doesn’t, we’ve prepared for that too.”

“You’re right, of course,” Jonathan said, giving the Eaglaton a small bow. “It will be tough being separated from one another, but we know each other’s minds as well as we ever will.”

“Then let’s begin,” Shraw said eagerly.

“There’s one more thing,” Jonathan added. “I know we’re keen to use them, but I want to hold all of our special missiles in reserve until we meet Estus-san’s main fleet. He’ll have studied all the reports he can on our battles with the Gal-taks. He knows we haven’t used any of our special missiles, and I want him to keep thinking we don’t have any.”

“Understood,” Scott said. “But not even if we get the perfect opportunity?”

“Not even,” Jonathan replied firmly. “Only if your fleet’s safety absolutely depends on it.”

Scott made a face but nodded nonetheless. Both the Whirlwind and Shadow missiles were based on her original designs. Jonathan’s father had used up the Empire’s entire stock against Tanaka-lan’s battlefleet. Since then, all of the Empire’s industrial capacity had been focused on rebuilding its lost fleets. When Jonathan’s invasion fleet left Earth, however, Andrea Clements had restarted production of the costly missiles. With the first reinforcement resupply fleet that had joined them at Sadarson, some of Jonathan’s ships had been equipped with enough missiles for a couple of salvos—but that was all.

“If there’s nothing else,” Jonathan said, “I’ll give the order for the fleets to depart in just a few minutes.”

Each senior Admiral looked at the others, but no one spoke. “Then let me wish you godspeed,” Jonathan said with a smile. “And let’s give them hell!”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Scott said seriously.

Shraw was more passionate. “We’ll do just that!”

“Indeed we will,” Reverus added, showing more emotion than usual.

Jonathan smiled at them all, gave each a nod, and then waved his hand dismissively. “Lieutenant Rossi will send the order as soon as I rejoin the bridge.” The Admirals nodded and disappeared as their connections ended.

“Go prepare the fleet, Commander” Jonathan said to Iso. Then, turning to Georgia, he added, “Wing Commander, a moment.”

Iso glanced at Georgia, then turned and left Jonathan’s office.

Jonathan gave his sister a quick smile before his face turned serious.

“Uh oh,” Georgia said, sensing a shift.

“You don’t need to be worried,” Jonathan reassured her. “It’s just…”

“You want to know if you should be the one worried,” Georgia finished for him.

Jonathan nodded. “You know the statistics on pilots rescued from destroyed fighters better than I do. Not many of them have the courage to get back into a fighter, not when their sense of invincibility has been shattered. And you suffered more than most.”

Georgia’s face turned defensive. “I’ve already racked up nearly a hundred hours in the simulators since returning to duty. I know I was a little rusty at first, but my numbers are as good as ever now.”

“In the simulators, yes,” Jonathan said, holding Georgia’s gaze, trying to read what was really going on behind her eyes. “But we both know that’s not the same as the real thing. How are you really?” he asked when Georgia didn’t immediately fire back with a smart comment.

Georgia’s eyes flicked down for a fraction of a second before they shot back up, filled with a fierce determination. “I came with you to finish what our father started and defeat the Karacknids once and for all. We haven’t accomplished that yet, and so I’ll keep fighting. You have my word, brother. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Jonathan instantly relaxed. His sister’s passion for vengeance certainly hadn’t diminished. “All right,” he said with a nod and a smile. “That’s all I needed to hear. Come on, Wing Commander, they’re all waiting for us.”

“As you command, Admiral,” Georgia said as she relaxed and grinned.

Gesturing for his sister to go first, Jonathan followed her out of his office and straight onto Imperial’s bridge. They both took their seats, and Jonathan turned to Matthis. “Ready to depart, Captain?”

“She is fully battle-ready,” Jonathan’s Flag Captain assured him.

“Iso?” Jonathan asked next.

“Our fleet is ready,” Iso confirmed.

“Very well. Lieutenant Rossi, signal the other fleet commanders, instruct them we are breaking orbit,” Jonathan ordered. “Matthis, lead us out.”

As his orders went out, thirty-two thousand warships began to break orbit from around the Tardan system’s fourth planet. Jonathan watched them, once again impressed by the sheer size of his fleet and the array of different designs representing all the different species who fought under his banner. When the ships were all under way, he gave the planet they where leaving once last glance. The world below Imperial was a barren, rocky one, with little to recommend it except for its impressive iron, nickel, and copper deposits. The deposits were so rich, however, that the planet had a number of sizeable orbital storage stations.

The system and planet belonged to the Fan-don family, who, after swearing allegiance to Jonathan, had offered the system to his fleet. Already, thousands of supply freighters were in orbit around the planet, and hundreds of engineers were working to adapt the orbital facilities into a resupply base. Jonathan had already sent word back to Earth for all new resupply fleets to be diverted to Tardan. Until he had crushed Clan Lord Estus-san’s fleet, this would be his new supply hub.

Expertly, the massive Allied fleet split into four separate formations as it left the planet behind. Each formation headed towards the system's western shift passage. As soon as they entered the next system, they would split up further to strike different Dar’kanan Clan worlds simultaneously. After that’s when the real fun begins, Jonathan thought to himself. He had one thousand frigates and destroyers solely tasked with carrying messages between the four fleets. Jonathan had positioned his fleet in the middle of the other three, so he would be kept as up to date as possible with their movements and battles. It would be his job to coordinate their advance and make sure they stayed within supporting distance of one another at all times.

Once the fleets were split, Jonathan turned to Rossi again. “Hail General Tasata-su for me.”

“At once, Admiral,” his COM officer responded.

“General,” Jonathan said as he gave the Karacknid warrior a small bow. About half of the Free Karacknid warships Jonathan had left Earth with had been left at Sadarson as a garrison or split up to secure the rest of Gal-tak space. Even so, Tasata-su still had five thousand ships in his fleet thanks to the warriors who had joined Jonathan’s ranks. All of them would be coming with Imperial as part of Jonathan’s fleet.

“Imperator,” Tasata-su responded. “How may I serve you?”

“I have a few ideas I want to run by you, General, for how our ships can fight together. Then we can run some simulations with our people.”

Tasata-su nodded. “As you wish, Imperator. Many of my warriors, especially the newcomers, are not used to your insistence on so many simulations, but we will do as you command.”

“And they will benefit from it, will they not?” Jonathan asked, hardening his tone slightly. “Even your own flagship has improved its combat efficiency numbers with all the drills and simulations we’ve been doing, has it not?”

Jonathan bit back a smile at the surprise that flashed across Tasata-su’s face. Yes, I even keep an eye on your ship, my friend, he thought toward the Karacknid General.

“It has, Imperator, as have the rest of my ships. Though I would not admit it unless forced, your training methods are effective, even if they are not what my warriors are accustomed to.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan said energetically. “Then let us get to work.”

Chapter 20

As I write, the Empire consists of two thousand seven hundred inhabited worlds that send representatives to the three Houses of Parliament. Another eighteen hundred inhabited worlds hold protectorate status. Well over ten thousand other systems also fall within our borders. It takes over a million freighters and transport ships to maintain commerce between all these systems. Policing them all is but a small fraction of the Navy’s responsibilities, and yet it is a herculean task all on its own.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Supernova, 1st December 2514 AD, (five days later).

“Let’s be careful and keep our eyes open,” O’Kane warned his officers.

Supernova was currently racing into a Karacknid system in pursuit of a Dar’kanan convoy of several hundred freighters and ninety warships. The convoy was fleeing for their lives from O’Kane’s five hundred warships. Their efforts were futile, however, for O’Kane had gotten the jump on them. With higher momentum and better acceleration rates, the convoy wasn’t going to escape.

Still, O’Kane wanted to stay vigilant for the system seemed to be highly valued by the Dar’kanan Clan. Though it was home to a species who had been conquered and enslaved by the Karacknids several hundred years ago, their world still appeared well-developed, with many cities and large orbital stations. Clearly, the Karacknids had been putting the locals to use. The outer system also had an extensive mining operation in its asteroid fields. The Dar’kanan Clan forces had been frantically trying to evacuate as much from the system as they could when O’Kane’s ships arrived, and so O’Kane was wary of the possibility of additional hidden forces.

Two days ago, his squadron had been part of Admiral Somerville’s fleet, which had smashed a Dar’kanan Clan border system. News of that attack had obviously reached the Karacknids here ahead of O’Kane’s arrival. But not quickly enough to save you, O’Kane thought, directing his thoughts toward whoever was commanding the enemy convoy.

As anticipation for the coming battle grew, O’Kane’s eyes kept flicking to other parts of the system. There could still be enemy warships hidden in orbit around the inhabited world or in the asteroid field. His orders from Admiral Somerville had been very clear: do as much damage as possible, but don’t risk his squadron.

For an hour, O’Kane chased down the Karacknid convoy. To his surprise, no other enemy ships appeared. In fact, the opposite happened. It started with one or two explosions, but within the space of ten minutes, hundreds of explosions were detected in and around the planet’s orbit. More than half of the orbital stations disappeared as they were blown apart or suffered serious damage, falling out of orbit. Heat sources were also detected on the planet’s surface. Though they were watching from a distance, O’Kane and his officers could tell that large-scale battles were breaking out.

“All right, let’s make this as quick as possible,” O’Kane said as his ships approached missile range. “As soon as we’re done, I want to offer the locals as much help as we can. I want every missile from our first salvo targeted on their warships.”

“Aye, Rear Admiral,” O’Kane’s Chief of Staff responded. “But you don’t think they’ll turn and fight us themselves?”

O’Kane nodded toward the display. “It doesn’t look like it, does it?” Normally, that’s exactly what Karacknid warships would do. In an effort to save their freighters, they’d turn and charge, prepared to fight to the death to give their freighters a chance to escape. In many situations, that’s what O’Kane himself would have done. “I think this commander is wilier than the average Karacknid,” he said. “If he did that, we’d destroy him immediately and still catch the freighters. I think he’s hoping we’ll target the freighters with our first missiles, allowing his warships to survive longer and shoot down more of our missile salvos as they come in.”

"In that case, he's going to be disappointed," O'Kane's officer said with a smile.

O'Kane nodded. "Fire as soon as we're in range."

The engagement was short and deadly. With a five-to-one numerical advantage and a far higher proportion of capital ships, O'Kane's first salvo was eight times more powerful than the convoy's escorts. A few stray missiles lost lock on the Karacknid warships and destroyed a handful of freighters, but the vast majority struck their targets. The Karacknid warships' defensive capabilities were completely overwhelmed. Only two lucky ships survived the mass detonation of antimatter warheads in their midst.

"Detach Captain Ramires' frigate flotilla," O'Kane ordered as soon as it was clear he wouldn't need a second salvo to finish off the enemy warships. "Order him to enter orbit of the inhabited planet as fast as possible. Offer orbital support to the locals against any Karacknid forces on the planet's surface. He has permission to land his marines if he believes they can make a difference."

"Understood, Rear Admiral," O'Kane's COM officer responded.

"Now," O'Kane said as eight frigates peeled away from his formation, "send the standard request for surrender."

"No reply, Rear Admiral," the COM officer reported four minutes later.

"And no one is cutting their engines," O'Kane added. "So be it. Begin firing. I only want half-salvos—let's not waste any missiles."

Just thirty minutes later, after two half-salvos, all of the Dar'kanan freighters were gone. O'Kane couldn't help feeling it was a waste of Karacknid lives and ships, but he didn't dwell on it. If they weren't going to surrender, he wasn't going to lose sleep over it. "Detach Commodore Killen's force," O'Kane ordered. "Instruct him to capture or destroy all of the asteroid mining facilities. If he can capture them, we'll hand them over to the locals. If not, he is to destroy them. Then set a course for us to join up with Captain Ramires."

An hour and a half later, forty minutes after Ramires’ frigates settled into orbit, Supernova slowed and slotted into orbit beside them. By then, most of the fighting on the planet’s surface had stopped, in part thanks to a handful of tungsten spears lobbed onto two Karacknid military bases. Only in the capital city were there still signs of conflict.

"I have someone claiming to be part of the Ulantan leadership on a COM channel," O'Kane's COM officer informed him.

O'Kane nodded. "Put them through." When a two-headed alien with three eyes on each head appeared, O'Kane did his best to keep his face straight. It became dramatically harder when the alien began speaking out of both of her mouths, alternating words from each.

“I am informed you are Rear Admiral O’Kane, leader of the warships in orbit,” the alien said. “I am Councilor Organsir. On behalf of my people, I wish to offer you our thanks for your assistance in driving away the Karacknids. Rumors reached us several weeks ago of an alien species invading the Karacknid Empire. You are the Humans who killed Taranaki?”

“And Tanaka-lan,” O’Kane said with a nod. “Now we’re here to destroy as much of the Karacknid Empire as we can. But I want to assure you, we are not here to conquer your system. This is your homeworld and your home system.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It is a relief, to be sure,” Organsir said, smiling with both her mouths. “If you are not here to conquer us, then what will you do with us?”

“To be honest, we don’t have the resources to do very much, I’m afraid,” O’Kane said. “I can offer you further assistance in dealing with the remaining Karacknids on your planet. Beyond that, I can share some technologies that you may find useful. However, that’s the extent of what I can offer. My squadron, along with the other fleets of our invasion force, are currently engaged in a campaign against the Dar’kanan Clan. We have other systems to move on to once we’re done here.”

“Then the Dar’kanan’s forces could return,” Organsir said, her tone concerned. “That is troubling. We had hoped your arrival would mean our system had been permanently liberated.”

“I can’t make any such promises,” O’Kane said, feeling guilty as he spoke. “But I can tell you that we will be continuing our push east, driving the Dar’kanan Clan’s forces before us. If we succeed, their ships may never return to this part of their territory.”

“Then we will pray for your success,” Organsir said. “We will make it a national effort.”

“I thank you, Councilor,” O’Kane said. “Now, is there any further support my forces can offer? I see there is still fighting going on in your capital city.”

“There is,” Organsir confirmed. “The remaining Dar’kanan forces have barricaded themselves inside our grand temple. They know the importance of that to us. However, that won’t stop us from hunting down and killing every last one of them. We are currently fighting to take the outer compound, but without energy weapons, we are suffering heavy losses.”

“Then I can send in my marines if you would welcome their support,” O’Kane offered eagerly. “However, I must caution you—if they join the fight, their weapons might cause significant collateral damage.”

“Yes, that is a concern, but if they are willing to take as much care as possible, we would gladly accept your offer,” Organsir said, bowing to O’Kane.

“I’ll speak with my marine commander and have his forces deployed right away,” O’Kane responded. “If you can send up as much information as you have on your temple complex and the Karacknids inside, that would be of great help.”

“I will speak to my commanders on the ground,” Organsir assured O’Kane. “And thank you.”

“You are welcome, Councilor,” O’Kane responded. “I’ll speak with you again once my forces are on the move.”

The image of Organsir bowed and then disappeared. O’Kane turned to his COM officer. “Connect me with Lieutenant Colonel Dawes. I think he might be about to get another chance to use that sword of his.”

Moments later, the freshly promoted Lieutenant Colonel’s face appeared in front of O’Kane. Quickly, O’Kane informed him of what would be required. Then, as the intel came in from the Ulantans, he passed it on to Dawes.

An hour later, it was all done. Once again, O’Kane had to admit the marine had impressed him. With lethal efficiency, Dawes had landed his special forces marines right on top of some of the Karacknid defenders. Before they even knew what was happening, he had stormed into the heart of the temple and taken it with minimal losses and damage.

An hour after that, Dawes and his forces were back in orbit. After a brief conversation with Organsir and several other councilors who had joined her, O’Kane bid them good luck and farewell. As much as he wanted to stay and help them get back on their feet, he knew the best protection he could give was to continue pressing forward against the Dar’kanan.

*

IS Rapier, 2nd December 2514 AD, (one day later).

Georgia didn’t feel comfortable in her command chair. She never did in any she sat in, but this was worse. Rapier was her unofficial flagship. When she was with her brother, she was based on Imperial, but if she needed to lead a detachment of fighters away from the main fleet, Rapier was hers. The assault carrier had the firepower and speed of a medium cruiser while housing five squadrons of fighters.

Arrayed around Rapier were twenty-five identical assault carriers and six hundred other ships. In front of Georgia’s task force was the Karacknid world of Sansatar. The planet was home to the Sarizitian Family, a family sworn to the Dar’kanan Clan. As the sister of the Imperator, Georgia had come to offer them terms.

More than half of the Sarizitian fleet had been destroyed when they had journeyed south as part of Tanaka-lan’s battlefleet. Now, just two hundred warships protected their homeworld. The presence of fifty impressive battlestations added to the strength of their defenses.

“Launch all fighters but keep them with the fleet,” Georgia ordered. “Let’s let them see our strength.”

As hundreds of fighters launched from their carriers, Georgia’s fingers itched. She tried to convince herself it was because she wanted to join them, but she knew better. The itching hurt. Her fingers had been badly burned by the electrical surge that had flashed through her fighter. Looking down at them, Georgia expected to see some lingering signs of the damage, but there were none. Clenching her fists, she ignored the tingling and waited for her fighters to form up.

“Open a system-wide COM channel,” she requested when her force was ready.

“Channel open,” Rapier’s COM officer informed her.

“Sarizitian Family, I am Georgia Somerville, sister of Imperator Jonathan Somerville, Lord of the Free Karacknids, the Gal-tak Clan. I have come here today to demand that you swear allegiance to the true Imperator. One way or another, your world will serve my brother. My scouts tell me there are no other Dar’kanan Clan forces within a week’s travel that can come to your aid. In contrast, there are twenty thousand more of my brother's warships I can call to join me within three days. Of course, as you can see, I need no further reinforcements.

“So, let me offer you my terms. My brother does not wish to see any more Karacknid deaths than necessary. He is not Taranaki or Tanaka-lan. If you swear to him as your Imperator, all of your leaders will keep their positions, and you can retain control of your world and this system. He will reward you by adding to your holdings and will require no hostages from you. By joining us, you can help usher in a new era for the Karacknid people, one where the constant bloodshed and infighting of the last several hundred years will cease.”

Pausing, as her mother had taught her, Georgia leaned forward and spoke slowly to make her point. “The choice is yours. However, I will give you just ten minutes, so… decide quickly.”

Sitting back in her command chair, Georgia wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen next. She wasn’t her brother. If any Karacknid surrendered or swore allegiance to him, she would follow his commands and leave them alone. However, that didn’t mean she had to want them to surrender. Tanaka-lan was dead, that much was true. But hundreds of thousands of the Karacknid warriors who had invaded her people’s Empire were still alive. Georgia held them all responsible for her father’s death and for the millions of civilians killed in the planets that had been attacked and nuked. She would be quite content to see every last Karacknid in the entire Empire dead.

Yet, she knew that if they had to attack the Sarizitians’ defenses, she would have to lead from the front. It was what everyone expected of her. Her mind went back to the brief conversation she’d had with Jonathan before they entered Dar’kanan space. It had been easy to convince him, as she had summoned her genuine hatred for the Karacknids. That had masked her other thoughts. But Jonathan wasn’t here now, and she couldn’t fool herself.

“The ten minutes are up, Wing Commander,” an officer announced, startling Georgia. The time had flown by much faster than she’d thought.

Quickly, she glanced at Rapier’s main display. There was no sign that the Sarizitians were standing down. “They have made their choice,” Georgia said as she forced herself to stand. “I will go to my fighter now. Rear Admiral Harkin, we will make one pass and focus our fire on their battlestations. Then we will make another if it is necessary.”

“Understood, Wing Commander. Happy hunting,” the commander of Georgia’s warships said, his voice full of confidence.

Georgia nodded to him and quickly turned away, not wanting him to give him time to see through the blank expression she was forcing onto her face. Leaving the bridge, she walked briskly to her Talon fighter. Just three minutes later, she was launched out into space. Not for the first time since her accident, Georgia found herself closing her eyes as the launch tube accelerated her fighter out of the warship. When the g-forces lessened, she snapped her eyes open, growled at herself, and grabbed her flight stick. More aggressively than necessary, she turned her nose towards her assembled fighters and slotted into the lead of their formation.

One of her secondary screens told her it would be another thirty minutes before Harkin’s ships were close enough to fire their salvo. Great, Georgia muttered to herself as she turned her head left and right. Though she knew it was just an illusion, it still felt like the sides of her cockpit were closing in around her. Stop it, she told herself. You’re being a fool. But it was far easier said than done. Try as she might, Georgia could not shake the claustrophobia that threatened to overpower all other thoughts in her mind. The wait felt agonizingly long, as if time itself had slowed.

Eventually, it did end. A COM message from Rapier gave Georgia the go order. “All fighters to maximum acceleration,” she commanded, pushing her throttle forward.

Again, Georgia winced at the g-forces her Talon’s thrusters produced. Again, she berated herself. She forced her mind onto her responsibilities. Her pilots knew what was about to be asked of them, but she knew they would be encouraged to hear from her. “Okay, pilots,” she said over her Wing’s general COM channel, “this is an easy in-and-out attack. They’ll struggle to handle our warships’ missiles, so they’ll be distracted. Don’t let your guard down, though. Focus on your evasive maneuvers, and then get out of dodge the moment you open fire. I’ll see you all back on the carriers.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the most encouragement Georgia could muster. To distract herself from the next phase of the attack, she began putting her fighter through a series of evasive maneuvers, checking its systems and warming herself up. Ordinarily, this was when she would enter her hyper-focused state, but today, her heart wasn’t in it, and the hyper-focus didn’t come. It will, she assured herself, though the thought brought no comfort. Deep down, she knew she was hoping, not believing.

A beep from her cockpit distracted her. Rapier and Harkin’s ships had fired—fourteen thousand missiles streaking into space. The Karacknid defenders responded with six and a half thousand of their own twenty seconds later. Though Georgia tried to focus on her flying, her eyes darted back and forth between the two missile salvos. When the Allied missiles overtook and passed her Wing, she knew they would soon strike their targets. Still, she kept watching.

The sudden explosion of light as the enemy opened fire on the missiles made Georgia jump. They’ll be firing on us soon! Though it started small, deep in the pit of her stomach, Georgia felt something she hadn’t experienced in many years—fear. She was about to come under fire, and she couldn’t enter her hyper-focused state. The fear quickly began to build and spread.

It didn’t take long for Georgia’s heart rate and breathing to increase. The small evasive maneuvers she had been carrying out became wild and desperate. Knowing that if she lost control and had a panic attack it would get her killed, Georgia fought the fear with everything she had. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and forced her body to relax. It will come, she told herself. But it wasn’t coming. Another beep from her fighter told her she was just ten seconds away from entering range of the enemy’s defensive weapons. Immediately, her fear spiked.

Georgia fought and failed to control it. Then she gave up. It is not going to come. You need to try something else, she told herself forcefully. Through her fear, she tried to think logically. Even without it, you are still one of the best pilots in the fleet, and your fighter has the strongest shields of any Allied fighter, and Harkin’s missiles are going to devastate the enemy. You can do this!

Her words worked, at least partially. Georgia felt her mind clear enough to allow her to push her fear deep down inside. She still felt it, but the sense of panic that had been threatening to overwhelm her subsided. Immediately, her evasive maneuvers became more controlled, and a small measure of confidence returned. The sudden bloom of blue antimatter detonations helped even more. Hundreds of Harkin’s missiles had burst through the Karacknids' defensive fire. Everywhere Georgia looked, battlestations and warships were dying in the explosions. We can do this, Georgia thought in excitement.

Then the first laser beam zipped past her Talon. The explosion of other weapons systems followed a split second later. Georgia’s mind froze. Her hands continued half-hearted evasive maneuvers out of habit, but she was no longer conscious of the movements. Her mind had been transported back to those brief seconds when her Talon had been hit, its wing blown off, and then the electrical surge had burned her hands, ignited leaking fuel and enveloping her fighter in fire. Georgia’s panic flared. She wanted to scream as she relived the memory. The pain, the fear, and the certainty that she was about to die all flooded back.

Unable to pull herself out of it, she was saved by a Karacknid gunner. Just seconds after losing control, a laser beam slammed right into the middle of Georgia’s Talon’s shield. The sudden blaze of color and blaring of alarms snapped Georgia’s mind back to the present. Once again, Georgia was aware of where she was. Except now, a fresh fear and panic consumed her. She wasn’t remembering her near death, she was about to live it! Almost everything within Georgia wanted to swing the nose of her fighter up and away from the Karacknid stations and ships firing at her. One memory kept her from giving in: her father’s death.

Closing her eyes, Georgia summoned the memory vividly. The last few seconds of Victory’s suicidal charge straight into Tanaka-lan’s flagship were ingrained into her mind. Georgia could replay it as if she were watching a holo recording. He did not swerve! she told herself. He did his duty. For you. Now you must do yours!

Though her fear did not subside, her hands tightened on the flight stick. Her evasive maneuvers increased once again. Eight more seconds, she told herself as she glanced at a secondary display. That was all she had to hold on for. As sweat ran in rivers down her back and legs, Georgia threw her Talon into every evasive maneuver she knew, as quickly as her mind allowed. It wasn’t anywhere near as good as when she acted without thinking, but it was enough. Twice more her shields flared, causing her to jump and swear, but both hits were just glancing blows.

Then the beep she had been waiting for finally came. It alerted her that she was just one second away from entering range with her own grazer cannon. As she lined up her shot, Georgia screamed—a scream of fear and relief. Then she squeezed the trigger. In the blink of an eye, a grazer beam shot out from the nose of her Talon and slammed into a Karacknid frigate, slicing the small warship in half.

Normally, Georgia prided herself on taking out enemy battlestations or capital ships. This time she didn’t care. Still screaming, she whipped the nose of her fighter up and away from the battle, fleeing to safety. Though she had carried out similar maneuvers many times in battles before, guilt wracked her as she looked down and watched the Allied fighters armed with missiles, continue to charge in.

Here and there, small explosions marked where some were shot down. But then thousands of smaller objects appeared as the Allied fighters fired. Six seconds later, fresh antimatter detonations filled the planet’s orbitals. When they cleared, nothing was left of the battlestations, warships, or the orbital stations that had once been shipyards and industrial facilities. The Sarizitian Family’s ability to make war had been destroyed.

Pure relief washed over Georgia. The battle was over. She could return to the safety of Rapier’s hangar. But then we will move on to the next system, and then the next, a voice in her head told her. There were going to be more battles, many more. Georgia felt the fear and panic begin to build again. How was she going to face them? She didn’t have an answer.

Chapter 21

In interstellar war, you never want your enemy to discover you before you discover them.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 9th December 2514 AD, (seven days later).

Jonathan's eyes snapped open. His bedroom was completely dark. The light from his alarm hadn't come on yet. So why was he awake? He half sat up in bed as his mind tired to grapple with what was going on. Then the chime for the hatch to his quarters rang again. Jonathan wiped his eyes, as he reached for the controls on the side of his bed. “What is it?” he asked groggily.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you, Admiral,” Iso’s familiar voice said. “But there’s something I thought you’d like to see right away.”

Jonathan’s mind snapped into action. “Then you’d better come in.” Quickly, he pulled on the fresh uniform his steward had set out for him, then stepped into his quarters' reception room. Iso had already set her datapad on the small table and had a star map projected above it.

“One of our scouts has just returned from Rear Admiral O’Kane’s squadron,” Iso explained quickly. “They detected a Dar’kanan Clan fleet in this system.” Tapping her datapad, a second image appeared, showing the fleet sitting in orbit around a large gas giant. “The gas giant has extensive gas mining facilities and what looks like a medium-sized fleet base.”

“And three thousand warships as well,” Jonathan said, peering at the ships for a few seconds before returning his focus to the star map. Immediately, he could see why Iso was so excited. The system was not far from Imperial’s current location. More importantly, it was almost directly between Jonathan and Scott's fleets’ lines of advance. “How did we not know about this sooner?”

“This base wasn’t on any of General Tasata-su’s maps, nor in the intel we received from the Gal-tak Clan,” Iso explained. “The Dar’kanans must have found a way to keep it a secret from their neighbors.”

“Well, they did a good job of it,” Jonathan said. “If O’Kane’s scouts hadn’t spotted them, we might have moved right past them and been hit in the rear when we least expected it.”

“That fleet has to be the Dar’kanan Clan’s eastern garrison we’ve been looking for,” Iso added, “Or maybe they are even the lead elements of a larger fleet that’s come to secure the base until more reinforcements arrive.”

“Either way, they can’t know how close we are!” Jonathan said excitedly, turning to Iso. With his smaller screening squadrons masking the advance of Jonathan’s fleets, no Karacknid scout had been able to get close to them. His mind raced, doing some rough calculations. He had already detached several large formations from his fleet to hit nearby systems, including one led by his sister. There was no time to recall them and wait for their return, however. We should be able to pick up enough ships on the way, Jonathan decided.

“Let’s get to the bridge,” he said, gesturing for Iso to grab her datapad. “We’re going to send word to Scott. Both our fleets are heading to that system immediately.”

*

IS Imperial, 12th December 2514 AD, (three days later).

In a mad three-day dash, Jonathan rushed his fleet to the Dar’kanan fleet base. Then, far more carefully, he slipped his warships into the outer system, well back from the system’s mass shadow. “Well, what do you make of it?” he asked his officers as they all studied the passive sensor feed being projected by Imperial’s main holo display.

“They are certainly paranoid,” Harte said. “Nearly a quarter of their strength is patrolling the shift passages.”

“They clearly know we have fleets attacking their border systems,” Iso added. “And they’ve received reinforcements."

Jonathan nodded. Imperial's sensors were picking up three thousand ships in orbit around the fleet base deep within the system. Another seven hundred more were in the outer system, patrolling the four shift passages that led into it. “Which means they may be expecting a fight,” Jonathan said. “Yet they must have a rough idea of how many ships we attacked the Gal-tak with.”

“Leaving these ships out here by themselves so close to the border is a strange move,” Matthis agreed. “Do you think they have more ships nearby, or even hidden within the system somewhere?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Jonathan responded. “But I don’t know how they got them here.” For over two weeks now, his scout ships had been moving through every system within twenty light-years of Imperial’s current location. A day ago, he had received news of the reinforcements making their way to the fleet base. But apart from those, no other large formations had been spotted in the vicinity. “The question is, if they are here, how do we find them?”

“We still have two stealth cruisers,” Harte reminded everyone. “We could send them out first to check the system.”

“Even stealth cruisers might have a hard time getting past so many patrol ships,” Matthis responded. “And what if there is a fleet hiding in the outer system?”

“Do you think Admiral Scott will suspect a trap?” Iso asked Jonathan.

“She will be cautious, I’m sure,” Jonathan said. Since sending word to Scott, Jonathan’s fleet had moved so fast that no messenger frigate had been able to catch up with them. Yet Jonathan was still certain Scott would have her fleet in position. From where Scott had been, her quickest route to the Dar’kanan fleet base would have been through its second eastern-facing shift passage. Since Jonathan had entered from the first, there was no way for them to communicate with each other without alerting the Karacknids that they were both in the system.

“If it is a trap, it’s been one long in the making,” Matthis pointed out. “Think about it. We can be fairly certain the initial ships O’Kane’s scouts spotted didn’t come to this system in the last two weeks. That means they have to have been here all along. And if there are more hidden somewhere, then they’ve been hiding that long too. That’s a lot of ships to commit to an ambush when they didn’t even know we were going to attack them.”

“They couldn’t have known for sure,” Jonathan agreed. “But if they had stealth ships watching their border with the Gal-taks, they would have seen our buildup of forces.”

“Fair enough,” Matthis conceded. “But if they knew we were coming, why leave a sizable force isolated on the border?”

"Because Clan Lord Estus-san is a fool,” Tasata-su said, speaking for the first time over the COM channel Rossi had opened with his flagship. “He thinks himself too clever by far.”

“So, you think there are hidden ships within the system?” Jonathan asked.

“I am sure of it,” Tasata-su replied. “The ships we know about have sat still for three days now; despite all the damage we are doing to the surrounding systems. They are waiting for something.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Jonathan said, Tasata-su’s confidence aligning with his own instincts. “Matthis?”

“I see the General’s point,” Imperial’s Captain said. “But how are we going to find out if there are additional ships?”

“How many do you think we are facing, General?” Jonathan asked Tasata-su.

“A few thousand more, no more than that,” Tasata-su said. “Estus-san doesn’t have many more to spare. Not unless he already moved his main fleet out here without us finding out about it. And that I find hard to believe.”

“Well then, if we can’t send in ships to spy them out, we’ll just have to draw them out,” Jonathan said, reaching up to the holo display and charting a course for his fleet. “Let’s see if we can provoke our enemy into showing us his cards.”

“You’re not worried they’ll outnumber us?” Iso asked.

“If they do, we’ll make a run for it, but I think Tasata-su is right. They can’t have as many ships as we do. And don’t forget, we have Scott too.”

Iso nodded, then began issuing orders to Jonathan’s junior officers as she prepared the fleet to follow his course.

For forty minutes, Jonathan’s fleet slowly cruised into the system in stealth mode. Angling away from the end of the shift passage, they carefully looped around the bulk of the two hundred and fifty ships patrolling its exit. Jonathan knew they wouldn’t remain undetected for long, so he spent the journey analyzing the system. There were really only two places where the Dar’kanans could hide additional ships—either in the thick planetary ring around the system's eighth planet or under the orbital stations of their fleet base at the seventh planet.

The problem with hiding ships under the orbital stations was that only a limited number could be concealed there. After some quick calculations, Harte estimated that no more than one thousand ships could be hidden among the stations. The eighth planet, however, was a better option. The current orbits of both planets meant that ships stationed in the planetary ring could quickly come to the aid of the fleet base. Jonathan’s gut told him that was where the hidden ships were. Which means, maybe we can make life difficult for them, Jonathan thought as an idea began to form.

"Suppose you were hiding in that planetary ring; how would you enjoy a sudden cascading collision?” Jonathan asked his officers.

Harte grinned, the first to catch on. “I wouldn’t like it at all, Admiral. Not one bit. Especially if it occurred right at the moment I planned to exit the asteroids.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan said with a nod. “Now, the timing is going to be difficult. But if we allow ourselves to be detected, it reduces the number of variables we have to consider.”

“What about Admiral Scott?” Iso asked. “If we make a move, she won’t know to support us.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure about that. He knew Scott would read the situation as well as, if not better than, he could. Her fleet wasn’t in the best position to try what he had in mind, but even if she didn’t guess exactly what he was planning, she’d know he was going on the offensive. “Let’s just wait and see, Commander,” Jonathan said, giving Iso a wink. “I wouldn’t underestimate Scott so quickly.” He then outlined exactly what he needed from her and Harte.

Fifty minutes later, Jonathan’s fleet was in position for the first stage of his plan. From every ship that carried them, tungsten spears were gently shot out of their electromagnetic cannons. Then, the Allied fleet turned toward the inner system and began to pick up speed. They continued accelerating for twenty-five minutes until one of Jonathan’s lead frigate flotillas ran straight into a stealthed Karacknid patrol ship.

Though the frigates had already detected it, they reacted with surprise. First, they fired at the light cruiser, then they pulled away, fearing other stealthed ships might be nearby. The light cruiser defended itself admirably, but it also pulled away, knowing it was outnumbered. However, as it retreated, it launched a spread of active recon drones in its wake. The drones quickly started picking up sensor returns from many of Jonathan’s larger ships trailing the frigates.

With the jig up, the rest of Jonathan’s fleet came out of stealth. Going to full acceleration, the six and a half thousand warships charged toward the Karacknid fleet base. The small frigate flotilla turned back to retake its position at the head of the fleet. As they did, they carried out a crucial series of maneuvers, signaling a prearranged message to any Allied ships in the system: wait.

As Jonathan’s fleet pushed deeper into the system, small skirmishes broke out between Allied screening ships and Dar’kanan patrols. For the most part, the patrols fell back before the mass of Allied capital ships, but on occasion, Jonathan’s frigate and destroyer captains outmaneuvered them, forcing them into fights. Both sides took losses, but the Dar’kanans fared worse.

On Imperial’s main holo display, a band of space the dreadnought was accelerating toward was highlighted in green. When Imperial entered it, the area began to flash. “Now we will see,” Jonathan said.

Everyone but Jonathan leaned forward in their command chairs. The green band marked the point of no return for Jonathan’s fleet. If there were hidden Karacknid ships in the eighth planet’s asteroid ring, now was the moment they would reveal themselves for it was too late for the Allied fleet to decelerate and escape. If Jonathan had been commanding the hidden forces, he would wait a little longer to ensure the enemy fleet was fully under his guns. However, waiting too long might give the Allied fleet time to fly into energy weapon range of the fleet base. This timing was what Jonathan had based his attack on.

They’re there, Jonathan thought to himself. He was now as certain as Tasata-su had been. The Karacknid fleet around the base had powered up their reactors and engines but had not moved, despite the far superior force bearing down on them. There was only one explanation for that. If I were them, I’d come out right about… now!

Jonathan’s prediction was off, but only by thirty seconds. Alarms blared around the bridge as Imperial’s gravimetric sensors detected engines activating within the planetary ring. The number quickly rose to just over four thousand. Jonathan’s fleet wasn’t outnumbered, but as the Dar’kanan ships began maneuvering out of the planetary ring, and the warships around the fleet base suddenly broke orbit, they could now fight the Allied fleet on equal terms.

Then disaster struck—for the Dar’kanans. Just ten seconds after the hidden ships started to move, six thousand tungsten spears smashed into the planetary ring. With no precise knowledge of where the hidden ships were, Harte had targeted the entire ring. The result was spectacular. On the main holo display, it looked like a tsunami wave crashing over a forest. The spears first struck the outer edges of the ring and then rushed deeper. Each asteroid that was hit shattered into thousands or millions of smaller fragments, which in turn smashed into others, creating a cascading series of collisions that rippled through the planetary ring.

The hidden Dar’kanan ships had only one hope: to bolt out of the asteroids as quickly as they could. Bedlam ensued. The Karacknid formation disintegrated in seconds, as every ship focused solely on its own survival. Some crashed into each other in the chaos. Then, asteroid chunks began striking ships, causing explosions and increasing the panic. Ships started opening fire with their laser cannons and hurling antimatter missiles at the waves of rocks. Both methods had some success, but more ships were lost.

It took a full minute for the first ships—mostly fast frigates and destroyers—to make it out. Larger ships followed, many showing signs of multiple collisions. Within five minutes, every ship that could escape had done so. In the end, the attack appeared less devastating than it might have first seemed—only about three hundred and thirty ships were destroyed.

However, the attack had drastically changed the tactical situation. As Jonathan and Harte had planned, the hidden Karacknid ships had been forced out of the planetary ring on a completely different heading than their original one. Instead of moving quickly to surround the Allied fleet, most were now heading away from the system’s seventh planet and toward the outer system.

Worse, at the moment the first tungsten spear had struck, Harte had swung the Allied fleet toward where they had predicted the Dar’kanans would flee. With the fleet base’s ships still accelerating to break orbit and the hidden warships starting from a point of relative rest, Jonathan’s fleet had a massive momentum advantage. The three thousand seven hundred Dar’kanan ships had no chance of escape. They would have to fight Jonathan’s fleet alone.

Yet it was even worse than that for the Karacknids. Mere minutes after the last Dar’kanan warship emerged from the ruined planetary ring and their ships began to frantically reform their formation, Scott’s ships revealed themselves. Her fleet had been sneaking into the system, slipping past the Dar’kanan ships patrolling the shift passage they had entered from. Now, they went to full acceleration, charging straight toward the hidden Karacknid ships. The Dar’kanan patrol ships that could, fled; the rest were destroyed by Scott’s screening flotillas.

"Slow us down so our first attack can be coordinated with Scott’s," Jonathan ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Iso responded.

“Look at the garrison fleet!” Harte suddenly called out. Jonathan’s eyebrows shot up when he focused on them.

“They’re running,” Iso said in disbelief.

She was right. All three thousand ships that had been accelerating towards Jonathan’s fleet were now turning. But they weren’t heading back to the fleet base—they were angling toward the system’s western shift passage. “They’re using the fact that we have to slow to engage their friends to get away.” Jonathan was shocked—Karacknids almost never ran.

Though surprised, Jonathan quickly reassessed the situation. “We need to destroy the hidden fleet as fast as possible. I want as much time to chase down the garrison fleet as we can. Launch all our fighters and have Scott do the same. They are to go in with our first salvo.”

Over the next half hour, Jonathan issued a series of orders while the Karacknid fleet that had attempted the ambush made several maneuvers to escape. With Imperial’s gravimetric COM, it was child’s play for Jonathan to keep the Dar’kanans trapped between his fleet and Scott’s. Eventually, they were able to open fire in unison. One hundred and eighty thousand missiles were launched at the three and a half thousand Karacknid warships, followed by seven thousand Allied fighters charging in.

The Dar’kanans fired sixty thousand missiles at Jonathan’s fleet, hoping to inflict as much damage as possible. They were partially successful. Over the span of five salvos, they destroyed or severely damaged four hundred and sixty-three Allied warships. However, this came at the cost of their entire fleet. The first Allied missile salvo, combined with the fighter strike, took out a thousand Karacknid ships. Four more salvos all but wiped them out.

“We’ll leave Scott to mop up here,” Jonathan decided after assessing the damage his attacks had caused. “We still have momentum to go after the garrison fleet. Iso, turn us around and let’s see how much damage we can do before they escape.”

“At once, Admiral,” Iso said, her voice full of enthusiasm.

For three hours, Jonathan’s fleet pursued the fleeing garrison fleet. Eventually, they brought them within range of their forward missile tubes. A long stern chase ensued. Over the course of another two hours, both sides exchanged numerous volleys. Each time, Jonathan’s fleet fired twice as many missiles, but only a handful breached the Karacknid defenses from each volley.

As the chase wore on, a steady stream of Dar’kanan ships took damage. Any ship that lost power or an engine quickly fell back into the clutches of Jonathan’s fleet and was destroyed. Occasionally, a lucky Dar’kanan missile would score a hit on an Allied ship, but for every one ship Jonathan lost, the Dar’kanans lost ten.

More than once, Jonathan was tempted to send in his fighters to strike the enemy fleet. Such an attack could damage a large proportion of the Dar’kanan ships, sealing their fate. Yet a salvo from Jonathan’s forward tubes would only be twelve thousand missiles strong. A fighter strike sent after such a small salvo would get badly shot up. Given the rate at which he was already losing fighters, Jonathan wasn’t keen to risk them unless it would win him a decisive victory. It’s a good thing Georgia isn’t here, he told himself more than once. If she were, he was sure she would have been demanding he send her and her pilots into battle.

Eventually, the Dar’kanan fleet reached the system’s mass shadow and winked out of normal space as they jumped into shift space, retreating to safety. They left behind a trail of over five hundred wrecked ships lost from their fleet.

“Signal Rear Admiral O’Kane,” Jonathan ordered as soon as the enemy disappeared. “Instruct him to detach his squadron and follow them. He is not to engage, only to shadow them and see where they go. If they were expecting more reinforcements, they will likely retreat towards them.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Rossi responded. She nodded to her team and then turned back to Jonathan. “We’re not going to give chase ourselves?”

Jonathan shook his head. His fleet had done enough fighting for one day. “No, our rush forward to this system has thrown off all our lines of communication with the other fleets. We need to consolidate our position, regroup with our screening squadrons, and reestablish contact with Shraw and Reverus. After that, we’ll continue the advance.”

But don’t worry, he thought, his mind returning toward the enemy ships that had just escaped him. We aren’t done with you yet.

Chapter 22

A siege is rarely a pleasant experience for the civilian populace of an inhabited world. It is therefore standard naval doctrine to abandon the defense of worlds where victory is not a realistic prospect. However, that is only if a siege would be worse than an occupation. With many of the enemies we face, it is often the reverse.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 16th December 2514 AD, (four days later).

"Instruct the bombard cruisers they can open fire," Jonathan ordered.

"Yes, Admiral," Harte responded. Seconds later, the fleet’s twenty bombard cruisers unleashed their first salvos of siege shells. After traveling for forty minutes, the shells exploded, sending waves of tungsten slivers—tens of thousands strong—pummeling into their targets.

Imperial currently sat a safe distance away from a heavily fortified world controlled by the Gurzi'shan Family, the largest family allied to the Dar'kanan Clan. The Gurzi'shans controlled twenty-two systems, commanded a fleet of two thousand warships, and had eighty battlestations protecting their capital. None of their forces could outrange a bombard cruiser, and so they could do nothing but endure the assault Jonathan was inflicting on them.

For an hour, volley after volley of tungsten slivers struck the planet's defenders. Few ships or stations were destroyed outright, but almost all were pockmarked with dents where slivers had hit, causing small explosions. These blasts destroyed sensor nodes and weapon emplacements, while shockwaves damaged internal systems. In a desperate attempt to defend themselves, the Gurzi'shans fired volleys of antimatter missiles at the shells after they exploded. The antimatter blasts destroyed large portions of the slivers, but they couldn't catch them all.

Then, after the twelfth volley, the first battlestation succumbed to the assault. By sheer chance, two slivers struck a section of armor already weakened by previous hits. The combined force of the impacts shattered the battlestation's armor and damaged its main power relay lines. The collision also pushed the battlestation into an unstable orbit. The few engines that still had power tried to stop its descent, but they couldn’t generate enough thrust. Frantically, several nearby warships attempted to attach towing cables to save the battlestation.

They were successful—at least until the next wave of tungsten slivers struck. One sliver damaged one of the towing ships while another severed a towing cable. The battlestation took a fourth hit, slamming it deeper into the planet's gravity well. This time, no additional ships could arrive fast enough to assist. Escape pods shot out from the station as it began to burn up in the planet's atmosphere.

Less than a minute later, hundreds of new contacts appeared on Imperial's main holo display. "They’re launching fighters," Harte announced. "A lot of them!"

Jonathan nodded. It was indeed a significant number. "This was always their only move." If he were in the Karacknids’ position, he too would have kept his fighters in reserve, waiting for the Allied fleet to move into missile range. But with the destruction of the battlestation, the Karacknid commander had realized that Jonathan could simply keep bombarding his forces until they were all destroyed—without the need for a missile duel. "They’re going for the bombard cruisers. Inform Wing Commander Somerville she is free to engage at will."

*

Georgia tightened her hands into fists and forced her eyes to remain open as her Talon launched from Imperial. As soon as she was out in space, she had to fight to release her tightly clamped finger to be able to reach for her flight stick. A tremor ran through her fingers as she grabbed it, making her grimace. Hold yourself together! she berated herself. Lives depend on you!

The bombard cruisers were currently keeping the Allied warships out of harm's way. If she let the Karacknid fighters destroy them, thousands would die in the inevitable fighting that would follow. Clearing her throat, Georgia gave a few quick orders to her pilots. “All squadrons form up on me. We’ll give them a barrage of missiles and then slice through. Focus on taking out enemy fighters—not evasive maneuvers. We need to kill as many as we can as we pass them.”

As her wing raced to intercept the enemy fighter group, Georgia tried in vain to find her hyper-focused state. Once again, it wouldn’t come. Instead, her heart rate spiked, and she began to sweat profusely, even before she came within range of the Karacknid fighters. Her fingers tingled, and another tremor ran down her forearm into her wrist as she put her fighter through a few basic evasive maneuvers. This is getting worse, she admitted to herself, though the realization only worsened her fear.

Knowing that trying to find her hyper-focused state was a waste of time, Georgia gave up. Instead, she focused all her mental energy on fighting back the panic she felt rising and prepared herself to face the approaching battle with her normal skills.

A beep from her console alerted her that the six thousand Karacknid fighters were increasing their acceleration rates. They’re pushing their engines beyond their safety limits, Georgia guessed. They were desperate to flash past her fighters as quickly as possible. Though she knew it would prolong the time she was in danger, Georgia forced herself to give the order she knew she had to. “Squadron Leaders, let’s slow to ten percent thrust.”

When the fight came, it was fast and frantic, but for Georgia, it seemed to drag on forever. Every second, her fear grew, and she had to devote more energy to fighting back the panic attack she felt creeping in. First, she had to deal with the incoming missiles fired by the Karacknid fighters. Only a third were the latest Karacknid designs that carried missiles, but even if few in number, the missiles were still deadly. Georgia jolted when her fighter beeped, signaling that a missile had locked onto her. With a sharp intake of breath, she threw her fighter into a corkscrew. At the last second, she deployed full ECM, launched all her flares, and pulled up hard.

A wave of elation washed over her as the missile zipped by, missing her fighter by less than a hundred meters before detonating harmlessly. The elation disappeared a second later as she refocused on the incoming enemy fighters and her panic returned. With her, she was leading eight thousand Allied fighters, so the chances of more than one Karacknid targeting her were slim. Still, that knowledge did little for her confidence.

As laser beams began flashing past her Talon, Georgia's evasive maneuvers grew increasingly desperate. For a full six seconds, she didn’t even try to return fire. All she could think about was how many times her shields had been hit in her last battle. If that happens again, I’ll be blown apart.

Despite her panic, her conscience wouldn’t let her just focus on evasive maneuvers. You’re supposed to be shooting them down! she growled at herself. Trying as hard as she could not to think of her own impending death, Georgia focused on an enemy fighter. Keeping up her evasive maneuvers as best she could, she opened fire. She cursed as her shots missed one after the other.

If all you do is evade, you will accomplish nothing. You may as well be dead! Though it heightened her fears, Georgia reduced her evasive maneuvers further. This time, she lined up a shot on a Karacknid fighter and held down her trigger. Hundreds of laser beams saturated the space around her target, but she kept missing. Screaming in frustration, Georgia continued firing. Even as beams struck her shields, nearly blinding her as they flared, she kept at it. Finally, she scored a hit. Without its shields, the Karacknid fighter was instantly melted to slag.

A second later, the Karacknid fighter group rushed past her Talon. Georgia slumped in her flight seat. It had taken all of her energy to score just one kill. Normally, she might have had two or three by now. Though she didn’t want to, Georgia forced her hand to whip the nose of her Talon around and fire again at the backs of the retreating Karacknid fighters. Mercifully, the Karacknids hadn’t turned to engage her; their engines were boosting them straight toward the bombard cruisers.

Instead of retaliating, the Karacknid pilots focused entirely on evasive maneuvers. Georgia gasped in frustration as she fired at one fighter only to watch it dodge all of her shots. Giving up on that target, she switched to another, but her shots missed again. Then the enemy was suddenly out of range. Georgia felt a rush of relief but it was quickly joined by guilt. After an engagement that had lasted just twenty-four seconds, two thousand enemy fighters still remained as they charged the bombard cruisers.

Almost unconsciously, Georgia gave orders for her squadrons to form up and prepare to return to their carriers. While she maneuvered her Talon to join them, her focus was entirely on the Karacknid fighters as they launched their attack.

With no regard for their own lives, the Karacknid pilots threw themselves against the screening squadrons Jonathan had moved up on either side of the bombard cruisers. A thousand frigates, destroyers, and light cruisers opened up on the fighters, and they began to die quickly under the accurate Allied fire. Larger capital ships joined in from further back as they came into range adding to the slaughter.

Over a thousand Karacknid fighters were shot down in the first ten seconds of their charge. By then, they were more than halfway to getting into range with their particle cannons. With fewer targets to worry about, the enemy numbers continued to dwindle even faster. Still, Georgia started to feel uneasy. She had fought in over a hundred battles and skirmishes against Karacknid forces. She knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, despite the fire hurled at them, over a hundred Karacknid fighters survived the gauntlet of point-defense fire. Just before they could finally return fire, one final blow was struck. The bombard cruisers fired their shells, which exploded directly in front of the Karacknid pilots. Tens of thousands of tungsten slivers created a deadly cloud through which the pilots had to fly. Less than a third made it through. In the final two seconds before they could fire, another twenty-three of them were shot down by laser beams. Then the remaining seven fired.

The bombard cruisers had already begun evasive maneuvers but hadn’t had enough time to fully commit to them. Five particle beams struck the cruisers. Not designed to stand in the line of battle, their thin armor was easily pierced. Three were sliced in two and instantly turned into wrecks, while the other two sustained severe damage. One succumbed to secondary explosions and was vaporized just seconds later. The last cruiser began to drift, dead in space.

Guilt and frustration welled up within Georgia. Clenching her fists, she smashed them into her thighs repeatedly. Her teeth clamped together at the pain. Thousands of people had just died. Jonathan had lost a quarter of his bombard cruisers. And it was all because just seven fighters had survived. How many of them should you have killed? she asked herself. She knew she would have taken out four or five, maybe even more, just a couple of months ago. If she had taken out that many, how many cruisers would have been spared? She didn’t know for sure, but she knew enough to know it was all her fault!

As her Talon approached Imperial, Georgia’s frustration gave way to shame. What am I going to do? She had to tell Jonathan. She couldn’t keep putting lives at risk. I can still command the fighter wing from Imperial, Georgia told herself. I’m a good tactician. I’m not useless. Yet as she looked at the holes in the bombard cruisers formation, doubt gnawed at her. What use was she if she couldn’t fly? As a tear ran down her cheek, Georgia cursed the Karacknid pilot who had shot down her previous fighter, and then cursed herself for being so weak.

*

Jonathan was not in a good mood. He had known from the moment the first bombard cruiser had begun construction that they would be vulnerable to fighter attacks. On paper, exchanging five small cruisers for all of the Gurzi’shan Family’s fighters was a good trade. But that only applied to the current battle. There were many more systems Jonathan knew he would have to conquer in the coming months. Losing a quarter of his long-range weapon systems was disastrous.

"Get the bombard cruisers we have left firing again as soon as possible," Jonathan snapped, unable to completely hide his anger from his officers. "And once the SAR shuttles have finished going over the ones that were hit, I want salvage teams to scour the wreckage. I want every component and section recovered that we can. I want everything sent back to Earth so they can be used to speed up the construction of more bombard cruisers."

"Understood, Admiral. I’ll make sure our engineers know the importance of their mission," Iso assured Jonathan, though she didn’t meet his eyes. Everyone on the bridge knew that sending wrecked parts back to Earth would all but be a waste of time. Fixing them could take more resources than building new ones from scratch.

In silence, Jonathan watched as more volleys of shells were hurled toward the Gurzi’shan Family’s capital world. A significant quantity of shells had been delivered with the latest supply fleet from Earth, and he was in no rush. Give them another hour, and then we’ll move in to finish them off, he thought, his anger now focused on his enemy.

When Georgia stepped onto the bridge twenty minutes later, Jonathan instinctively turned toward her, ready to vent some of his frustration, even though he knew it wasn’t her fault. But the look on her face stopped him dead. His sister looked like she had seen a ghost. Her face was pale, and it looked like she might start crying at any moment. Instead of snapping at her, Jonathan opened his mouth to suggest they retire to his quarters for a private moment. He didn’t get the chance, however.

“Admiral,” Rossi said loudly, her voice full of excitement. “One of our scouts has just entered the system and transmitted an urgent message to us. They believe Clan Lord Estus-san’s fleet has been spotted. Fourteen thousand Dar’kanan warships are moving west toward us. Here is the sensor data.”

As Rossi sent the data from the report to the main holo display a star map appeared, showing the systems around the Gurzi’shan Family’s capital. One system, just under fifty light years away, was flashing. Text scrolling beside it indicated that the information was nine days old.

Jonathan instantly forgot all about his sister. “He’s come out to meet us!” Jonathan was sure. His plan had worked. With his four fleets raiding Dar’kanan space across a wide front, Estus-san had come out to try and destroy one or more of the Allied fleets one at a time. Taking control of the display, Jonathan zoomed in and began to study the systems between Imperial’s position and where Estus-san had been spotted. Though he didn’t know for sure, there weren’t many paths Estus-san could take toward the front line. “Here,” Jonathan said as he highlighted a system called the Danlong system by the Dar’kanan, “this is where we will face him. Scott and Reverus can join us there in time. This is where we can defeat him. But we have to act fast.”

“I understand,” Iso said immediately. “I’ll begin drawing up the orders to be dispatched to them at once.”

“Do that,” Jonathan agreed. “And send word to Shraw as well. He’ll want to know, even if he’ll be angry he’s going to miss out. Instruct him to bring his fleet here and deal with the Gurzi’shan capital.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Iso said.

Jonathan was already turning to Harte. “Signal the bombard cruisers to cease fire and prepare the fleet to head west. We need to get to Danlong ahead of Estus-san and get ready to face him.”

Harte nodded excitedly. “I’ll have the fleet moving momentarily, Admiral.”

Jonathan spared one glance at the Gurzi’shan fleet. This is your lucky day, he thought toward them, his earlier anger forgotten in the sudden excitement. But only today. Battered as it was, their small fleet was no threat to him now. However, they had refused to surrender and swear allegiance to him, so they would have to be conquered later. Right now, Jonathan had bigger fish to fry, and as he turned back to study the star map, they and the destruction of his bombard cruisers quickly faded from his thoughts. It was time for him to kill another Karacknid Clan Lord.

Chapter 23

Splitting your forces is often one of the quickest ways to see them all destroyed. Only the best commanders can attempt such a risky strategy, and as our study of the early wars of the Empire tells us, even then, it does not always end well.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Danlong System, 19th December 2514 AD, (three days later).

It wasn’t until Imperial reached the Danlong system that Georgia finally worked up the courage to speak to her brother. He and his staff officers had been so busy rushing the fleet to the system and coordinating communications between all the various elements of Jonathan’s, Scott’s, and Reverus’ fleets that she hadn’t managed to get Jonathan alone for a moment to ask to see him privately.

“Come in,” Jonathan’s voice called out over the hatch’s panel after Georgia gently touched it.

“Jonathan, thank you for seeing me. I know everyone is very busy,” Georgia said as she stepped into Jonathan’s office.

“How is your wing? Is it ready?” Jonathan asked, looking up from his desk and gesturing toward a chair.

“We’re down to seventy percent strength,” Georgia said as she sat. “I’d rather be above ninety, given that we’re going into a battle with a fresh enemy fleet. But we’ll make do.”

“I’m confident you will,” Jonathan said with a nod. “And Scott and Reverus should be here soon. Then you’ll have the advantage over whatever Estus-san brings with him.”

“There’s something else I need to discuss with you,” Georgia said slowly, trying to think clearly. She had gone over how she wanted to say it a dozen times in her head, but now, everything she’d practiced had abandoned her.

“What is it? I’m all ears,” Jonathan said, smiling at her. “Wait…” His face filled with concern. “On the bridge when we got the news about Estus-san’s fleet. You didn’t look well.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Georgia said, grabbing onto the lifeline Jonathan had given her, though she immediately felt bad for not telling the whole truth. “I don’t know if you’ve seen the numbers from my recent combat flights, but they’re not great.” Georgia held up her fingers to Jonathan. “Something’s not right. I’m still feeling pain in them, and the rest of my body just seems out of sync. I know I look fine, but I think I’m still suffering some effects from my injuries. My body just doesn’t feel… right.”

Jonathan looked at her fingers for a couple of seconds as if expecting to see burn marks. Then he quickly shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Georgia. I shouldn’t have put any pressure on you to rush back into a fighter.”

“It’s not your fault,” Georgia said quickly. “I thought I was ready, but I was wrong. And I – I don’t want to put any other pilots at risk. I can still command from Imperial and even lead detached missions, but I don’t think I’m ready to be flying again just yet.”

“Yes, of course, that’s not a problem. You’re the best fighter strategist as well as pilot we have,” Jonathan said, warmth in his voice. “You can take as long as you need. But I do want you to go see Doctor Hemingway for further tests. She gave you a clean bill of health, but she must have missed something. She’ll have to look more closely.” Jonathan began tapping on a datapad on his desk. “I’ll send her a note myself to make sure it’s a priority.”

Alarm flashed through Georgia. “No, there’s no need for that. I’m sure the tests are accurate. I just think my body needs more time.”

Jonathan looked up from his datapad and fixed Georgia with a level gaze. She suddenly felt scared that he was onto her. "Listen, I know what you're like. You always put on a brave face, but not with this. Your fighter was nearly blown apart, for goodness' sake. If your body needs more time, then that’s what you’ll get. But for my peace of mind, you need to let Hemingway take another look at you. That’s not a suggestion, Wing Commander.”

Georgia wanted to resist, but she knew from the look on his face that Jonathan wasn’t going to budge. Though she feared Hemingway might start asking more probing questions, she had no choice and nodded. “If you insist, I’ll see her.”

Jonathan’s face brightened, and he smiled before tapping his desk to project the sensor data his scouts had brought back on Estus-san’s fleet. “Good. Now, let’s have another look at Estus-san’s fleet. I want to know what my Wing Commander makes of these carriers here.”

*

IS Imperial, (one day later).

“Admiral, they’re here,” Rossi informed Jonathan via his com unit.

“On my way,” Jonathan said as he jumped up from behind his desk.

Scouts had informed him fourteen hours ago that Clan Lord Estus-san’s fleet had been spotted in the adjacent system. Dar’kanan scouts had also already been detected entering the Danlong system. Even knowing it was coming, Jonathan still moved quickly as he entered the bridge and took his seat in the command chair.

With his officers, he watched as, over the span of half an hour, fourteen thousand warships entered the system. They moved four light-minutes into the outer system and then came to a halt. Smaller squadrons of light ships and thousands of active recon drones broke away from the main fleet, fanning out to check the inner system for hidden threats. Jonathan expected this. With Vice Admiral Reverus' ships already in place, his total force had swelled to fifteen thousand warships. Estus-san had to know Jonathan had anticipated his arrival, and he likely suspected Jonathan might have additional forces nearby. In fact, Jonathan did, but there was no way for Estus-san’s scouts to detect them.

For three hours, Estus-san’s scouting squadrons scoured the system. There were also a number of skirmishes with Jonathan’s own scouting squadrons, placed to watch Estus-san’s fleet closely in case the Dar’kanans had any extra ships. Over time, the fighting diminished as most of the system was checked, and the Dar’kanan screening forces pulled back. However, another forty-five minutes passed, and still, Estus-san’s main fleet remained in position.

“What is he doing?” Iso asked, voicing what everyone was thinking.

Jonathan didn’t have a good answer, at least not one that satisfied him. “He could have more ships waiting to jump in behind him,” Jonathan said. “But I don’t know how we would have missed them.” Ever since Estus-san’s fleet had been detected, Jonathan’s scouts had been watching them approach the Danlong system. Unless the Dar’kanans had a fleet of stealth cruisers, there was no way Estus-san had snuck another sizable force along with his main fleet.

“Maybe he didn’t think he would face a more powerful enemy fleet,” Matthis said. “But if he came out here, he had to know he would have to fight us on even terms, or worse, eventually.”

“Or he’s just happy to be holding our forces here,” Harte suggested. “If we’re all gathered here, we can’t be out raiding his systems.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure, but he was suspicious. “Double our scouting forces and recheck the entire system. I don’t want us being caught out.” He then turned to Rossi. “COMs, connect me with General Tasata-su and Reverus.”

“Imperator, how may I serve?” Tasata-su said, dipping his head to Jonathan.

“Admiral,” Reverus simply said once he was connected in as well.

“What do you make of this, General?” Jonathan asked.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, it is unusual, Imperator,” Tasata-su responded. “Normally, a Karacknid commander likes to go on the offensive. Estus-san has come all this way with his fleet, and it makes little sense that he would now just sit there. Unless he has a surprise for us.”

“And yet we can find no sign of a surprise,” Reverus said. “This feels like he simply wishes to waste our time.”

“If we didn’t have so many scouting forces throughout the surrounding systems, I’d think he was trying to pin us in place while another fleet flanked us, but we would have spotted it long ago,” Jonathan said. He paused for a moment, then asked his next question. “What about challenging Estus-san? I am sure Imperial could make short work of his flagship.”

Tasata-su shook his head. “You cannot, Imperator. Only he can challenge you for your position of Imperator. You cannot take his rank from him in trava-klan without provocation.”

“But he refuses to accept Admiral Somerville as his Imperator,” Reverus said. “Surely that is provocation enough?”

“No, it is not,” Tasata-su said matter-of-factly. “Imperator Somerville has not been officially crowned on Gayla. Until then, Karacknids are free to accept him as Imperator, but by our traditions, the clans are not duty-bound to do so until he has been properly crowned. Even then, only a member of a clan can challenge their current clan Lord in trava-klan.”

“Well, that is a pity,” Reverus said. “Not that I’m keen to risk your life, Admiral,” he added quickly.

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Jonathan said. “Maybe I could provoke him. A few choice words might encourage him to challenge me.”

Tasata-su shook his head again. “I am sorry, Imperator, but it would not be proper. You would be acting like a Clan Lord, not an Imperator. Doing so would risk the loyalty of those who have sworn to you or those who may yet do so in the future.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Jonathan asked.

“We advance with all our strength,” Tasata-su said. “The longer we sit here like this, the more we play into whatever plan Estus-san has. We should be careful, of course. Advancing may be what he wants, but with our full strength, the victory will be ours.”

Jonathan didn’t respond right away. He was deep in thought. However, the reality was that Tasata-su was right. The simple answer was that he couldn’t sit here forever. He could wait for Shraw to join them—that was his one other option. But Shraw was at least four days away. In that time, if he had them, Estus-san could bring up more forces. “And what about the possibility of a trap?” Jonathan asked Tasata-su.

“It is possible, though as you have said, I do not see how they would have gotten past our scouts,” Tasata-su replied. “And even then, Estus-san can’t have more than six thousand other warships spread across his entire territory. I find it hard to believe he has somehow snuck them all here.”

“Then so be it,” Jonathan said, making his decision. “We advance.” He turned to catch Iso’s eye. “Signal Admiral Scott, call her ships in. Once they join us, we will cautiously move up on Estus-san’s fleet. Send a fast frigate to Shraw as well and inform him of what is happening. It may well be that Estus-san will fall back when he sees our full strength. If he does try to lure us deeper into his territory with some kind of trap in mind, I want Shraw here with us. Order him to make all haste to join us.”

“Aye, Admiral, understood,” Iso responded.

Moments later, Imperial’s gravimetric COM began to beep. Just thirty seconds afterward, Scott’s flagship Constitution and seven thousand more ships jumped into the system behind Jonathan’s fleet. Jonathan’s plan had been to engage Estus-san’s fleet with his force, and then have Scott jump in on the edge of the system and race in to join the fight. Now instead, her fleet cruised up and combined with Jonathan’s. After briefly speaking with her, the Allied fleet of twenty-two thousand warships set off towards Estus-san’s fleet.

As his fleet closed with the enemy and Estus-san’s ships did not move, Jonathan became increasingly worried. Yet no matter how many scouts he sent out ahead of his fleet or into the outer system, nothing appeared on Imperial’s main display to explain the feeling he had.

“I do not like this,” Scott said over the channel Jonathan had left open with his senior commanders. “My gut tells me this is a trap. Why is he not falling back?”

“I concur,” Reverus said. “There is something we are not seeing.”

“Should we slow the fleet?” Iso asked.

At that very moment, as if Scott’s words had been instantly communicated to Estus-san, the Karacknid Clan Lord’s ships started moving backward. It wasn’t at a fast rate, but they were falling back.

“I like that even less,” Jonathan said. “They’re not retreating fast enough to get away from us before we bring them into weapons range.” Like Scott, his gut was shouting that something was wrong. “Bring the fleet to a halt,” Jonathan snapped. “Let’s see how Estus-san responds.”

At first, nothing happened. For a handful of minutes, Estus-san’s ships continued to back away as Jonathan’s ships slowed. Then multiple consoles beeped in unison as the Dar’kanan fleet suddenly reversed course. At full acceleration, they began to charge the Allied fleet.

Something is very wrong; Jonathan was suddenly sure. It made no sense for fourteen thousand warships to charge a force twenty-one thousand strong. “Full reverse, maximum acceleration,” he ordered. “Set course for the shift passage back to the Sarizitian family’s system and Admiral Shraw’s fleet.”

Moments after Imperial turned her nose and went to full military power, fresh alarms went off. This time they signaled the detection of new enemy ships. Jonathan’s mouth fell open as twelve thousand new contacts suddenly began accelerating into the system. They were almost in his fleet’s rear and were accelerating hard, trying to cut off his escape. For a couple of seconds, Jonathan just stared at them, unable to comprehend how they were there.

Scott saw it first. “A hidden shift passage, there must be a hidden shift passage the Kalassai never discovered out there!”

“And those are Clan Lord Ozek’wa’s ships. There is his flagship!” Tasata-su said, sounding as stunned as Scott. “He was Tanaka-lan’s best commander. He has to be the one behind all of this.”

Jonathan swallowed hard. Ozek’wa was the Clan Lord of the clan to the west of the Dar’kanan Clan. Ozek’wa had commanded Tanaka-lan’s fleet that had been tasked with attacking Mindus and Varanni space while Tanaka-lan invaded Earth. Clearly, he had rushed his fleet to aid Estus-san as soon as he learned of the Gal-tak Clan’s defeat. Somehow, he had also figured out the hidden shift passages that crisscrossed Karacknid space and had even found one the Kalassai hadn’t. After all the battles we have won using them, now they’ve been turned against us, Jonathan thought in anguish.

Before Jonathan could give any orders, more contact alarms went off. For a second, Jonathan feared more ships were about to appear on the display directly behind his fleet. Instead, thousands of small contacts began to launch from Ozek’wa’s and Estus-san’s carriers. Immediately, Jonathan saw what was going to happen. By slowing his approach toward Estus-san, then stopping and turning, Jonathan hadn’t brought his fleet deep enough into the system to be trapped by Ozek’wa’s fleet. However, with his slight momentum advantage over the Allied fleet, Estus-san’s ships could pursue Jonathan’s fleet and bring them to battle. Ozek’wa’s fighters were going to join the fight and try to damage as many of Jonathan’s ships as they could. Any ships that lost the capability to stay with the fleet would fall into Ozek’wa’s hands.

We’re going to get hit, and hard! Jonathan realized. Ozek’wa’s trap hadn’t worked perfectly, but Jonathan could see no way to get his fleet out of harm’s way. They were already running at full speed toward the nearest shift passage, hoping to jump to safety. Angry at himself, Jonathan ground his teeth together. He should have seen it sooner! He had known something wasn’t right from the beginning!

*

Georgia squirmed in her command chair. Inside, fear and shame fought for dominance. She was staring at the same holo display her brother was fixated on. She could read it as well as he could. She understood the trouble that was about to fall upon their fleet. But that wasn’t what fueled her inner turmoil. Her problem was that she could see a solution.

I can’t just order them in, she argued with herself. I can’t. So many will die!

But the entire fleet could depend on it. Thousands would die if those fighters attacked the fleet. And then the two Karacknid fleets would combine and pursue them. How many more ships would be destroyed in the next system, and the one after that? Words her mother had spoken to her before the fleet had left Earth came back to Georgia. He is your Emperor now; your life’s calling is to protect him, for in protecting him, you are protecting all of us. She was right, Georgia knew. It was her duty – to her family and to her Emperor.

Georgia’s shoulders slumped. She had to tell Jonathan, which meant she had to give the order to her pilots. But you cannot just send them in while you sit here in safety, a voice told her. That was Georgia’s real problem. She could feel her fingers beginning to tremble. Pain shot through them as she imagined gripping a flight stick.

Just a day had passed since she had finally worked up the courage to tell Jonathan she couldn’t fly anymore. Despite the looming battle, she had finally felt at peace. Now that peace was shattered. She couldn’t send her pilots on a suicide mission and not lead them herself. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it.

Georgia opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden spike of panic stopped her. Shame followed. How could I put my own life ahead of tens of thousands of others? Accept it! she told herself savagely. You are going to die. Accept it. Accept the fear. At least it will only be for a little while longer. Though she didn’t fully accept it, Georgia’s words pushed her panic down slightly. She seized the moment and spoke quickly. “I have an idea,” she said as everyone turned to her.

She raised a hand and pointed at Estus-san’s fleet. “We hit them now with every fighter we have. They’ll have to send their fighters against us to stop us. That will allow us to gut their fighter force and hurt their fleet as well. If we can hurt them badly enough, they won’t be able to attack our fleet with the same vigor.” Georgia looked down from the display and held her brother’s gaze. “I can buy the fleet the time it needs to get out of here intact. I’m certain of it.”

Jonathan looked from Georgia to the display and back again. “You’ll be going in head-on. Against fourteen thousand ships and almost as many fighters. Are you sure?”

The intensity in his eyes told Georgia he was asking more than his words implied. “Yes, I can lead them,” Georgia said, even though it caused her panic to spike again. “I have to.”

Jonathan looked around at Imperial’s other bridge officers. All were still focused on Georgia. “Admirals, what do you think?” he asked his senior officers over the open COM channel.

“It will be a suicide mission for much of our fighter force,” Scott said. “We could lose three-quarters or more of our pilots.”

“But it would work, wouldn’t it?” Georgia pressed.

The holo image of Admiral Scott turned to her, a pained expression on her face. “Yes, I believe it has a good chance of limiting the damage our fleet will take from this trap,” she said slowly, her voice quiet.

“I concur,” Tasata-su said. “And I know my pilots will willingly serve our Imperator in this way.”

“Reverus?” Jonathan asked.

“It is what needs to be done,” the Eaglaton replied. “I am sorry, Wing Commander.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Georgia said as she stood. The longer she stayed, the more she felt the panic tightening its grip. She needed to act now or risk changing her mind. “I will go to my fighter immediately. Alert all our pilots to prepare to launch. I’ll speak with them and explain what’s being asked of us when we’re in space.” She paused long enough to look around at her brother and the other officers, many of whom had become her friends. “I’ll see you when I return.” Quickly, she started toward the bridge’s main hatch.

“Georgia,” Jonathan called after her, forcing her to slow and half-turn. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice, giving her a slight nod. His face and eyes conveyed far more. They both knew what the odds of her returning were given her injuries. “And be careful.”

Georgia smiled warmly, showing him the love she had for him. “I will, my Emperor. Lead us well.” Then, unable to bear the concern and sadness on his face, she quickly turned and left the bridge.

Chapter 24

‘Desperate times call for desperate measures,’ was a proverb first spoken in relation to treating severe diseases. I find that in our day, it relates far more to warfare than medical care.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

As her fighter launched into space, Georgia no longer had the energy to fight to keep her eyes open. She didn’t care anymore. Instead, she waited for the panic from the sudden g-forces to subside, then opened her eyes, grabbed her flight stick, and turned the nose of her Talon towards her waiting fighters, despite the tremors in her hands.

In the minute it took her to take up her position at the head of her Wing, all of her twenty-six thousand fighters assembled. Every last Imperial, Varanni, Vestarian, Eaglaton, and Karacknid fighter from Jonathan, Scott, and Reverus’ fleets was there. At one time or another, she had fought, trained, or simulated battles with all of them. As her mind and heart focused on them, her own fear moved to the background. With a tap on her console, she opened a COM channel to them all.

“Allied pilots, this is Wing Commander Somerville,” Georgia began, her voice growing in strength as her focus shifted to her pilots, rather than herself. “You can all grasp the situation the fleet is in. If Estus-san’s fleet can attack our fleet alongside the fighters from the newcomers, we’ll take heavy losses—tens of thousands could die. But we few here can prevent that.

“This is not going to be easy; you know that too. We have to fight our way through their fighters and then attack Estus-san’s fleet without missile support. We’re going to take a lot of losses. But we’re going to save the fleet. So, think of your friends back on your carriers, and think of your families back home. Saving the fleet means Emperor Somerville can continue his campaign and prevent any of our worlds from being invaded again. That’s why we fight. So, let us face our enemy in battle once again!” Georgia couldn’t help smiling despite her fear as she imagined her pilots' response to her final words. “Follow me, if you can keep up!”

Georgia pushed her throttle to full and shot away from her wing. For a split second, she grinned, but then the g-forces hit her, slamming her back into her seat. Instantly, memories of being shot down flooded her mind. Her stomach cramped, and her fingers felt like they were on fire. Hating her weakness, Georgia screamed in frustration. Anger, then a sense of defeat, washed over her. She almost gave up right then and there. But her own words wouldn’t let her. She was fighting for her family; for her mother, sister, and brothers. She had to keep going for them.

Knowing the panic wasn’t going to go away, Georgia did her best to ignore it. It was hard, agonizingly so. The flight time to the enemy fleet was two hours, and all the way, she lived on the edge of being overwhelmed by fear. She made it though, and as she reached out to take her flight stick again, her arm trembled, yet it was almost a relief to feel something different. Beginning some gentle evasive maneuvers helped even more, at least that was something she was intimately familiar with.

Then her eyes looked forward, and she saw the Dar’kanan fighters that had formed up to face her. Fifteen thousand of them were coming for her. Instantly, her fear returned. Deep inside, she could feel it, there was another Karacknid pilot out there, one who was going to shoot her down again!

On the edge of losing herself to a panic attack, Georgia did her best to ignore the tremor in her arms and initiated more sophisticated evasive maneuvers. Then, she opened a COM channel to her pilots. "This is it, do your best," she said, more for herself than for them. Moments later, a thirty-second timer appeared on her HUD. Georgia almost turned her fighter around. “Stop that!” she hissed to herself through gritted teeth. With her heart racing, her body drenched in sweat, and tremors reducing her control over the maneuvers she wanted to execute, Georgia watched helplessly as the timer counted down. There was no escape.

At five seconds, she instinctively armed her missiles. They quickly locked onto two targets. At zero, the console beeped, and Georgia tapped her trigger, releasing both missiles. A great temptation to close her eyes gripped her. Georgia didn’t want to know if enemy missiles were targeting her. Her fear, however, kept her eyes wide open. Mercifully, no missiles were detected coming at her Talon. Other Allied pilots weren’t so lucky and brief explosions erupted amidst Georgia’s wing.

To her surprise, with her eyes open, she saw one of her missiles strike a Karacknid fighter, blowing it apart. She had actually scored a kill. For a moment, Georgia almost remembered what it had felt like before she was shot down, when she had scored kill after kill with supreme confidence. A sliver of that confidence passed through her, but it evaporated the moment the Karacknid fighters opened up with their laser cannons.

Within two seconds, a beam grazed Georgia’s shield. The sudden blue and green haze that flared around her as the shield deflected the energy reignited her panic and brought it to new heights. Even so, she fought to find another target. If she was going to die now, she needed to take another enemy fighter with her. That was why she had come. She had to reduce the enemy’s numbers. Despite her terror and panic, she wouldn’t let herself forget her purpose.

Spotting an enemy fighter whose evasive maneuvers looked unimpressive, Georgia lined up her shot. Pulling the trigger, she sent a barrage of laser beams at it, but a tremor in her forearm caused all of them to miss. Cursing, Georgia lined up another string of shots, but they all missed. Her jaw clenched so tight that pain began pulsing up to her eyes. She fired again. This time, she scored a hit. The fighter’s wing was blown off, sending it spinning away, completely out of control.

But Georgia couldn’t help seeing herself in the enemy pilot’s position. Her mind was dragged back to those harrowing seconds when she had been shot down. They had felt like an eternity of terror. She saw her own wing shattering, felt the scorching heat burning her fingers, and then the explosion enveloping her cockpit in flames. An overwhelming force slammed into her, pinning her into her flight seat. Georgia lost control. Panic completely took over. Her hands continued executing some kind of evasive maneuvers out of pure instinct, but her mind was gone. Torturing herself, she relived those few seconds over and over again. Each time she thought she was about to die in agony.

Completely unaware of what was happening around her, Georgia missed the rest of the brief fight as her wing smashed through the Karacknid fighters, destroying over half their number. Six thousand Allied fighters were shot down as well, but the remaining pilots punched through the Dar’kanans and began to reform, preparing to strike at Clan Lord Estus-san’s fleet.

“Wing Commander, you are veering off course,” a voice said in Georgia’s ear. She didn’t hear it.

“Wing Commander, do you copy? This is Flight Leader Hernandez. Are you hearing me? Is your fighter damaged?”

Suddenly, a high-pitched screeching noise rang through Georgia’s helmet, forcing her to instinctively reach up and cover her ears. The noise didn’t stop though. It was coming from her helmet’s COM unit. Someone had tried to reset it. It took Georgia a moment to understand what was happening. Then, it hit her, she wasn’t trapped in her memories anymore! The pain of the screeching drove her hands down from her ears, and she quickly tapped a couple of her consoles, cutting off the connection Hernandez had set up with her Talon.

“Wing Commander, are you there?” Hernandez asked again.

“I’m here,” Georgia gasped, feeling lost. Though her evasive maneuvers had stopped the moment she took her hand off the flight stick, it felt like her world was still spinning. Nothing felt right. Her body seemed unresponsive to her commands. Though the screeching had pulled her out of her memories and the panic attack, Georgia felt drained. She had no fight left.

“Is your fighter okay, Wing Commander? Were you hit?” Hernandez asked, his concern evident.

Georgia couldn’t handle the thought of being hit. “Something was wrong, but it’s fixed now,” she answered quickly. “I’m rejoining you.”

Though it took all her willpower, Georgia reached out and grasped her flight stick. Gently, she turned her Talon’s nose towards the rest of her wing. Then, she forced herself to look at Estus-san’s fleet. Deep inside, she knew what awaited her. The memories she had just been trapped in were about to become reality. Her death was minutes away. She was certain of it. Surviving a brief fighter engagement against an enemy with half your numbers was one thing, but charging into the heart of a massive Karacknid fleet was another.

Though she was terrified that admitting it might trigger another panic attack, Georgia had to face the truth: This is it. You can’t fly through this. A voice in her mind whispered something darker: At least it will all be over. Her whole body already felt drained from the panic attack. Georgia never wanted to experience that again. You won’t have to, she reassured herself. You’ve done your duty. You’ve led your pilots into battle. Now you can die with them in honor. You don’t have to face any more enemy fire.

Reaching down to her console, Georgia tapped a button, disabling her shield. She wanted a clean death. No evasive maneuvers, no shield partially blocking a laser beam and leaving her fighter half-melted to slag. She wanted it over. Taking her hand off the flight stick, Georgia closed her eyes and waited for the release from the memories and fear that had crippled her.

Goodbye, she thought, as her mind filled with images of her family, her mother, her sister, Jonathan, and her twin, Edward. She knew they would mourn her terribly, just as they had mourned their father. A pang of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to put them through the same pain again, but her need to escape the fear was stronger.

Having accepted her death, Georgia let out a long, deep sigh. She accepted the pain she would cause her family. One by one, she let them go along with her desire to live. Then, she let go of her fear for Jonathan’s fleet, and finally, her fear for the pilots of her wing. As each fear faded, a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying began to lift.

From her earliest years, Georgia had grown up with stories of her father’s exploits in the first Karacknid war. The palace had been full of reminders of her family’s service to the Empire. Georgia had never known a time when she didn’t feel the responsibility of fighting for her species’ survival. But now, all of that responsibility lifted and disappeared.

The last fear to leave Georgia was her fear for herself. With her shields down and no evasive maneuvers, her death would be quick. She wouldn’t have to suffer any more. As this fear faded, so did the panic she had carried with her since waking up on Imperial and seeing Doctor Hemingway hovering over her. It was all about to be over. Her own thoughts couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Then something unexpected happened. Without seeking it, without any conscious effort, her mind slipped into her hyper-focused state. The trembling in her body ceased instantly. Her energy levels surged back, and Georgia felt entirely in sync with her mind, body, and, most importantly, her fighter.

Georgia’s eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw was a massive dreadnought at the heart of the enemy fleet. She recognized it immediately: it was Estus-san’s flagship. Instinctively, she knew what she had to do. Estus-san’s warships wouldn’t attack Jonathan’s fleet if their Clan Lord was dead. And I am not dead yet! her mind shouted.

Reaching out, Georgia grabbed the flight stick, her hand melding with it as if they were one. Without a second thought, she threw her Talon into a series of evasive maneuvers more complex and precise than any she had flown before. If she were aware of her emotions, she would have felt confidence rising, drowning out the panic that had overwhelmed her earlier. But she noticed nothing of this; her mind was now utterly focused on one thing: Estus-san’s flagship.

As the Dar’kanan screening ships opened fire, Georgia didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. While other fighters exploded all around her, no laser beam came close. For twelve seconds, Estus-san’s fleet unleashed a torrent of fire at the twenty thousand Allied fighters charging toward them. Thousands of fighters were destroyed. Georgia wasn’t among them. Then her Talon beeped, signaling that she was now in range with her grazer cannon.

Georgia was ready. Mid-evasive maneuver, she lined up her fighter’s nose with a medium cruiser at the center of the flotilla protecting Estus-san’s flagship. Half a second after squeezing her primary trigger, the energy beam lanced through the cruiser. It struck exactly where she had aimed, burning through its armor, hull, and inner bulkheads before vaporizing the main engine room. The simultaneous detonation of four fully powered nuclear fusion reactors sent a shockwave through the ship, shattering it into thousands of pieces. Georgia had now cleared a path to her true target.

While every other Eaglaton fighter in the wing pulled up to safety after firing, Georgia pressed forward, charging alongside the Imperial and Free Karacknid fighters. Although the Dar’kanan fire had been thrown into confusion by the four thousand grazer beams that savaged their fleet, the reduced number of Allied fighters made it easier for the defenders to target those that were left. But it didn’t matter for Georgia. No enemy gunner could touch her.

The next Allied attack came six seconds later as the Imperial fighters and bombers launched their antimatter missiles and veered away. Georgia slowed her fighter as the missiles were launched, positioning herself for her next move. The Dar’kanans concentrated their fire on the incoming missiles and the remaining Free Karacknid fighters, leaving her mostly unchallenged. It was a fatal mistake.

The Free Karacknid fighters attacked last. They had to get in close to fire their directed matter streams. As soon as they could, they sent their deadly fire streaking toward the Dar’kanan fleet. Their cannons accelerated streams of protons to near-relativistic speeds. Knowing what was coming, the Dar’kanan ships were all carrying out evasive maneuvers. Some managed to evade the attack, the ones that didn’t were utterly devastated.

Seconds later, the thousands of antimatter missiles the Dar’kanans had failed to shoot down struck home. For a brief moment, the entire expanse of space in front of Georgia became a brilliant blue haze. When the light cleared, thousands of Dar’kanan ships were either obliterated or reduced to wrecks.

Now, with the Free Karacknid fighters and Allied missiles gone, Georgia’s fighter was the only one left. It took the Dar’kanans a couple of seconds to notice her, and a few more for their gunners to realize she was attempting an attack. At first, just a handful of nearby screening ships opened fire. But when they failed to vaporize her immediately, more and more ships joined the assault.

For a few tense moments, nearly a quarter of the remaining Dar’kanan ships, those with a line of sight to her, focused their fire on Georgia. It was futile. As if anticipating every shot, she spun, twisted, and weaved through the storm of laser beams, evading them all with precision.

Then she broke past the first line of Karacknid screening ships. Instantly, she began flying right up to and between enemy ships, using them as cover from the rest of the fleet’s fire. All the while, Georgia’s eyes remained locked on this flagship. The Karacknid ships around it were now desperately closing ranks, having realized the danger she posed. But there was a problem: a gap remained where the cruiser had been. Other ships were moving to close it, but not fast enough.

In her mind, Georgia was counting. It took thirty seconds for her Talon’s grazer cannon to recharge. In a dogfight, thirty seconds was an eternity. That was why she had slowed, and why she continued weaving through the heart of the Dar’kanan fleet. But she only needed to hold out a little longer. When she reached her target, Georgia whipped the nose of her Talon back toward Estus-san’s flagship. Two frigates raced to block the final opening. They were only a couple of seconds away from closing it. That was all the time Georgia needed. With a deft flick of her flight stick, she lined up her shot and pulled the trigger.

The grazer beam flew true, squeezing past the two frigates and slamming into the dreadnought’s starboard side, midships. Much of the beam’s energy was absorbed by the dreadnought’s heavy armor, but enough penetrated to wreak havoc inside. The dreadnought didn’t explode in a blinding flash, but its power failed, and it immediately began to drift. Half of the point-defense weapons that had been firing at Georgia went silent.

In that moment, a small emotion pierced Georgia’s hyper-focused state – disappointment. She hadn’t killed Estus-san. But she quickly realized she had done enough. His flagship wouldn’t be chasing her brother’s fleet anytime soon. It’ll do, she told herself. Then, something just as important filled her mind: she had to survive!

Pulling up and away from the wounded dreadnought, Georgia pushed her engines to full throttle, determined to escape. As she flew through the Dar’kanan fleet, more and more warships found a clear firing line on her. Now, they were out for revenge. Thousands of their comrades had been destroyed, and the lone attack on their Clan Lord’s ship was an insult to his honor. With snarls, shouts, and curses, every Karacknid gunner who could, opened fire on Georgia.

Their efforts were in vain. In a blaze of light, with laser beams flashing past on every side, Georgia weaved through the onslaught. A withering hail of fire followed her, but nothing could touch her. Every twist or turn of her flight stick moved her just out of reach of the beams closing in on her. Then, before she knew it, Georgia raced beyond the range of even the Dar’kanan frigates that had set off in pursuit of her.

Surprised to be out of danger so quickly, it took Georgia a few moments to fully register her safety. Slowly, she eased her evasive maneuvers and came out of her hyper-focused state. Looking down at her hands and legs, a wide grin spread across her face. She wasn’t sweating. She wasn’t panicking. Her heart rate was steady. For the first time in what felt like ages, she was completely relaxed. She had become one with herself and her fighter. She was back!

Only then did she notice a small flashing light on one of her secondary screens. She went white when she saw it. Her shield was still down. She had never powered it back up. She had done it all without any protection.

Chapter 25

It is rare that just one person’s actions can change the course of a battle, let alone an entire war, but it does happen. Often, these characters make the most interesting historical figures to study.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Jonathan stared in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. He knew the image of that lone fighter bursting out of the Dar’kanan fleet, dodging everything fired at it, would stay with him for the rest of his life. It wasn’t just superhuman – it was impossible. Yet, he and every officer on Imperial’s bridge had just watched it unfold. Like Jonathan, everyone was still staring, many with their mouths open. Shock filled every face.

None of them had any doubts about who they had just seen. Jonathan knew his sister was good. She had been flying fighters in simulators for as long as he could remember, since the age of five at least. And she had her augments, enhancing her reflexes, speed, and strength. But even with all that, what she had done should have been impossible. As the lone fighter soared away from the Dar’kanan fleet and towards the remaining Allied fighters, Jonathan continued to stare with everyone else.

Eventually, he had to shake himself. He had other responsibilities to attend to. Quickly he tried to assess the situation. Only five thousand Allied fighters had survived the attack on the Dar’kanan fleet. The losses were staggering. Almost three-quarters of his fleet's fighter force was gone. Yet Estus-san’s fleet had lost over half of its fighters. More importantly, three thousand of his warships were destroyed. At least half of those that remained had to be damaged as well. And then there was his flagship. Jonathan shook his head. He had no idea how Georgia had managed it. He didn’t even understand what had possessed her to try. Yet, she had, and for that, he was profoundly thankful.

"The fleet is saved," Jonathan said, announcing his assessment of the new situation. "There’s no way Estus-san will risk engaging us now. A couple of salvos from our fleet would wipe out a quarter of his remaining ships."

"Are we still going to fall back?" Harte asked.

Jonathan glanced at Ozek’wa’s fleet, which was still charging in, trying to cut off his escape. He could turn and charge Estus-san, but if the Clan Lord had any sense, he would fall back, allowing Ozek’wa to strike Jonathan from the rear. Alternatively, Jonathan could attempt to intercept Ozek’wa. With Estus-san’s fleet damaged, it would take him time to come to Ozek’wa’s aid. Jonathan might get five or six salvos off against Ozek’wa before having to face Estus-san as well. But we’d have to face Ozek’wa’s fighters, too. And we don’t have enough of our own to fend them off.

"No, we’ll continue to fall back," Jonathan decided. "We need Shraw’s fighters now. We can’t fight without them."

"Even with his fighters and warships, it’s going to be a deadly battle once those two fleets join together," Scott commented over the open COM channel from Constitution.

"Yes," Jonathan agreed. "But maybe we don’t have to fight them together..." An idea began to form in his mind. His enemies knew he liked to split his fleet. Why not do it now? Ozek’wa won’t want to be slowed down by Estus-san’s damaged ships. And he will want to come for me.

"What are you thinking, Admiral?" Scott asked over the COM channel to Constitution, recognizing the look on Jonathan’s face.

"We recover our fighters first, and then we get out of here," Jonathan said as he brought up a star map on the bridge’s main holo display. "But if they insist on following us, perhaps we can lead them on a merry dance." Tapping on his command console, he drew three lines across the next system his fleet was headed to. "They can’t follow all three of us. That might give us an opening." As his officers listened, Jonathan began outlining the details of his plan.

"That’s a bold plan. Now that we’re combined, shouldn’t we all stay together?" Reverus asked when he was done.

"We need to split their forces. They’re too strong together," Jonathan replied. "And this way, we split their fighters as well, while we concentrate ours. I’ll take most of our fighters with me, and then Shraw’s can reinforce my wing further."

"I like it," Scott said. "If you run with the smaller force, they’ll think you’re running away and trying to lure them after Reverus’ and my fleets."

"Exactly," Jonathan nodded. "If Ozek’wa is furious that we killed Tanaka-lan, he’ll want revenge on me. We can use that."

"And I imagine Estus-san might not be too keen to tangle with your sister again anytime soon," Reverus added. "He’ll jump at the chance to chase one of us instead."

"Or his anger might lead him to want to even the score," Tasata-su said. "His honor has taken a beating. But he would be foolish to seek another confrontation with Wing Commander Somerville. I still do not understand. How did she do what she did?"

"Nobody knows," Scott said. "But she’s been doing it for years. Though even I’ve never seen her do something quite like that."

"However she does it, she deserves another medal," Jonathan responded. "Or maybe more than one."

Heads around Jonathan nodded in agreement. "All right," he said, changing the subject. "Let’s get our fleet ready to make the jump into shift space and then split up. We need to ensure we all have enough fuel and munitions to fight on our own for several weeks in case we get isolated."

Quickly, Jonathan’s officers got to work. He joined them for several minutes, then returned to watching the two Karacknid fleets. Both were now charging after his retreating ships, though Estus-san’s fleet wasn’t moving as fast as it could. It also looked like his flagship had been left behind with over a thousand other damaged ships. Neither fleet worried Jonathan, at least not in the short term. Neither had the acceleration or momentum to catch him before he reached the shift passage. Ozek’wa could still throw his fighters against Jonathan’s fleet, but he was holding them back. Sending them in without Estus-san’s ships or fighters would be a bloodbath.

When Georgia’s wing of fighters returned to the fleet and began landing on their carriers, Jonathan stepped out of the bridge and requested that Georgia join him. Despite his amazement at what she had done, he had some questions for her. “Come in,” he said when she requested entrance into his office. Jumping to his feet, he greeted Georgia face-to-face and pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t know what possessed you to do that,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her back at arm’s length. “It was crazy, suicidal even. But somehow you did it... Please, come and sit,” he said as he let her go and gestured for her to take a seat. “You must be exhausted.”

“No more than any of my pilots,” Georgia said as she eyed Jonathan warily. “I’m ready to return to the bridge and join the staff officers.”

“I’m sure you are.” Jonathan took a seat watching Georgia closely. “But I just want to check in with you first. After our last conversation, I was surprised when you volunteered to lead the mission. And with the look you gave me when you left the bridge... I thought it was the last time I’d see you. It seemed like you thought so too. Then you charged in against an entire enemy fleet on your own. Tell me the truth, was it suicidal?”

Georgia held Jonathan’s gaze for just a second, then her eyes darted down to her feet. “I...” was all Georgia could say.

Jonathan sighed. “I pulled your flight records the moment you landed. You switched off your shield before charging the Dar’kanan fleet. What am I supposed to make of that? How can I send you into battle again?”

Georgia’s eyes shot up again, this time holding Jonathan’s with a smoldering fire. “You can send me back. You need to. I’m ready to fight. I have to, to win this war and protect our family!”

“Then tell me what you were doing,” Jonathan asked, his voice sounding more like a plea than a command.

“I... maybe it was suicidal,” Georgia confessed, looking down again, though her eyes returned after a couple of seconds. “I lied when I said I couldn’t fly because of my injuries. Or at least, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Something was wrong with me,” Georgia said, reaching up to rub her temple. “Something in here. In my mind. I was having panic attacks every time I sat in the cockpit of my Talon.”

“But... you’ve flown several combat missions since you returned to active duty. A host of recon missions too.”

Georgia nodded. “Each one was torture. That’s why I made up the excuse about my fingers. I couldn’t face it anymore. But then the fleet was in such danger. I knew I couldn’t order my wing to carry out such an attack without leading them myself. I got through the enemy fighters, and then... I was ready to end it all. I just wanted the fear and panic to be over.” Georgia shook her head vigorously. “And I didn’t want to have a wing blown off and end up severely injured, dying slowly out in the dark cold of space.”

“So you switched off your shield and were just going to let them kill you?” Jonathan said, feeling his anger rising. “Do you know what that would have done to Mother, Rachel, Edward, and to me?”

“I know,” Georgia said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her head slumped forward. “But it wasn’t enough... the panic was too much for me.”

Jonathan’s anger vanished. Compassion took over as he moved beside Georgia and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’ve let you down badly. I never should’ve let you fly any of those missions.” As he held her, Jonathan felt Georgia lean into him. He waited a few seconds, then asked the question still burning in his mind. “Why did you do what you did? No one who didn’t see it with their own eyes will believe it.”

Georgia shrugged against him. “I don’t know. I’ve never really understood it. But since my injuries, I couldn’t enter my hyper-focused state. When I gave up on everything and was ready to die, I suddenly found it again. After that... I don’t really remember what happened.”

Jonathan hugged Georgia tighter. “Well, however you did it, you saved us.”

“Thank you,” Georgia said, her shoulders shaking slightly. A moment later, Jonathan heard a gentle sob.

“And you don’t ever have to fly again. After what you did today, you could retire for life, and everyone would celebrate you.”

“No, that’s not what I want,” Georgia said, sitting up straighter and rubbing one of her eyes. “I’ve got my hyper-focused state back now. I need to keep fighting. I’ve beaten the panic attacks. I want to finish what we’ve started.”

Jonathan looked her hard in the eyes. “On two conditions,” he eventually said.

“What are they?” Georgia asked hesitantly.

“One, no more lying to me. You tell me the truth. And not just when I ask for it. You tell me everything I need to know, even when I don’t know to ask for it.” Georgia nodded. “And two, you carry out a few test flights and make sure your hyper-focused state is back. If this was a one-time thing and your panic returns, I’m not letting you fight another battle. Is that clear?”

“Yes, crystal,” Georgia said. “If the panic hasn’t gone for good, I don’t want to fly. Not like that.”

Jonathan smiled. “In that case, let’s go to the bridge. I’m sure everyone will want to congratulate you.” Then he shook his head. “And I can tell you about what I’ve got planned for us next. It doesn’t look like Estus-san and Ozek’wa intend to leave us alone for very long. But I think we can make that work for us.”

Georgia returned Jonathan’s smile. “Sounds good to me, Admiral!”

*

IS Imperial, 20th December 2514 AD, (one day later).

As soon as Imperial jumped out of shift space, Jonathan reconnected with Scott, Reverus, and Tasata-su. “This is it then. We’ll keep in contact as best we can.”

“And you’ll take care,” Scott said. “No heroics. Your sister has done enough heroics for your family for a good long while. Don’t engage until you meet up with Shraw.”

“I’ll take care, don’t worry,” Jonathan replied with a smile. “I didn’t know my mother had come along on this military campaign, Admiral.” Scott gave Jonathan a dirty look but said no more. Jonathan winked at her in return.

“You need not be concerned, Admiral Scott. My forces will look after the Imperator,” Tasata-su assured Scott. “Neither Ozek’wa nor Estus-san will get close to him.”

“Provided this works, of course,” Reverus said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll all be seeing each other very soon.”

“It will work,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t as confident as he made his voice sound. “Just make sure you two don’t try anything too risky. Your job is to keep Estus-san busy and distracted, not take on his fleet by yourselves.”

“We understand the plan, Admiral. We’ll do as you command,” Scott assured Jonathan.

“Then when we see each other again, hopefully we’ll have taught Ozek’wa a lesson in how to spring a trap,” Jonathan said. “Godspeed to all of us.”

“Godspeed,” Scott replied.

“Fight well, Admiral,” Reverus added.

Jonathan nodded to each and then cut their COM channels. “Well, are you ready, General?” he asked Tasata-su.

“My forces and I are always ready to serve, Imperator. Do not worry on our behalf.”

“That’s what I expected,” Jonathan said, giving Tasata-su a small bow. “Let’s get on with it then.” Turning to Iso, he waved a hand at the holo image of the Allied fleet, which showed it accelerating into the system. “Split the fleet,” he ordered.

“Right away, Admiral,” Iso responded.

When the order went out, the Allied fleet split into three. Led by Jonathan, Scott, and Reverus, each new fleet turned towards one of the system’s three easterly shift passages. The ones Scott and Reverus headed towards would take them in a more northerly direction, towards Dar’kanan systems none of the Allied fleets had raided before, while Jonathan’s led back through systems his fleet had already attacked. Almost half of the twenty-two thousand Allied ships went with Jonathan, while the rest were equally split between Scott and Reverus.

To their pursuers, it was meant to look like Jonathan was trying to escape back to Gal-tak space with a sizable fleet, while the other two fleets raided more Dar’kanan systems in an effort to draw the enemy after them.

For three hours, the fleets raced across the system at their best possible speeds. Then alarms went off as new ships began to be detected accelerating into the system. Estus-san and Ozek’wa had arrived. As Jonathan expected, their ships jumped into the system as one fleet. Combined, they had twenty-three thousand warships. Their numbers meant that any fight between the two fleets would be almost even, though the Kulrean worldships in Jonathan’s fleet would still give him the edge. However, now Estus-san and Ozek’wa had a massive advantage in fighter numbers.

For the first twenty minutes after appearing, both fleets accelerated into the system along the same course the Allied fleet had taken before splitting. Come on, Jonathan thought toward Ozek’wa. If the Karacknids didn’t split and went after just one of his fleets, his plan would be ruined. He already had backup options, yes, but whichever fleet the Karacknids chased would be in trouble in the short term, especially if they went after Scott or Reverus. Without enough fighters, they would be vulnerable.

A tense ten minutes passed as Jonathan watched the Karacknid fleet, willing them to split up. More than once, he was tempted to open a COM channel and taunt Ozek’wa. Given how close the Karacknid Admiral had been to Tanaka-lan, it would be easy to goad him. Yet that would almost certainly give away the fact that Jonathan wanted Ozek’wa to chase him. You can do nothing but wait, he told himself. Just seconds later, Jonathan sat forward in his command chair. The Karacknid fleet was splitting.

“They’re splitting in two!” Harte announced right away. “It looks like Estus-san and Ozek’wa’s forces are separating.”

“Ozek’wa is coming after us,” Jonathan said as he watched Ozek’wa’s flagship turn toward Imperial. He couldn’t help smiling. “He has taken the bait.”

“And now we show him the folly of chasing us!” Matthis said.

“Once we meet up with Shraw,” Jonathan cautioned. Yet he shared Matthis’ excitement. Estus-san almost certainly wanted to chase Scott or Reverus’ fleet to stop them from destroying more of his systems. Ozek’wa clearly had other ideas. He knows that if he kills me, this invasion is over. Well, you are welcome to try, Jonathan thought toward the Uemi’ta Clan Lord.

Chapter 26

In a multisystem war that necessarily involves many different fleets and task forces, the skill of just one commander is never enough. This is why the Empire requires such high standards of those who would be promoted to flag rank—for we know our future will depend on all the officers who receive such a promotion.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 22nd December 2514 AD.

For two and a half days, Jonathan and his ten thousand warships fled through two systems before Ozek’wa’s larger force. Ozek’wa’s ships maintained a relentless pace, and as Jonathan began to collect freighter fleets that had been part of his supply train, Ozek’wa was able to close the distance between the two forces. Then the first messenger ships returned from making contact with Shraw.

“Put this data up on the main screen,” Jonathan requested when he began to read Shraw’s report. Days ago, the Gramrian Admiral had dispatched the Sarizitian Family’s defense force. With ease, he had swept aside the defenders Jonathan had already weakened. Then, after receiving word from Jonathan, he had begun to move his fleet south. He was now requesting Jonathan join him in the Deloit system.

“There it is,” Harte said.

Jonathan studied the system as he kept glancing down at Shraw’s suggestion on his datapad. The system contained one of the largest inner-system asteroid fields Jonathan had ever seen. It looked like three massive rocky worlds had been shattered and spread out in a wide orbit. The Dar’kanan Clan was making the best use of the asteroid fields. Hundreds of mining and processing facilities littered the area. It seemed the Dar’kanan Clan got nearly half of their supply of rare metals from the field. Shraw was reporting that his marines and Gramrian warriors had already captured them all. Now, he was inviting Jonathan to lure Ozek’wa to the system.

“What do you think?” Jonathan asked his officers.

“It is a critical system to the Dar’kanan,” Tasata-su said. “But Ozek’wa won’t care.”

“Which is what we want,” Iso commented. “It is a good plan.”

“But it would be even better if Scott was able to join us,” Matthis added.

Jonathan nodded. “We better get our fastest frigates heading north at once. They need to find Scott quickly.” He had given Reverus and Scott instructions to lead Estus-san on a merry chase. With both their fleets popping in and out of the systems he was in, Jonathan wanted the Clan Lord to have no idea who he was really chasing. The aim of this, though, was to allow Scott to eventually give him the slip as soon as she could and head south. The problem was that Shraw’s system was even further south than Jonathan had anticipated.

“Maybe we can buy her some time,” Georgia suggested. “A mock fighter strike or two might make Ozek’wa a little more cautious.”

“Especially if he thinks it’s being accompanied by some ships,” Harte added.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked.

“The next system we’re heading towards. It has a nebula that butts right up against it,” Harte answered. “It would be the perfect place to hide some ships. Or some drones designed to look like ships. If Georgia leads a sortie against them, they wouldn’t be looking too closely at the nebula. We could spook them.”

Jonathan smiled. “I like it. Start making the preparations.” He then turned to Georgia. “And I think we need to give your fighter a new position in your wing. I’d say we could put you right at the front, a little ahead of everyone else. That way they can see you coming.”

“And we could paint two big pictures of Estus-san’s dreadnought on either side of her fighter,” Iso said, grasping what Jonathan was getting at. “I’m not sure if they’ll look that closely at your fighter, but if they do, they won’t miss the significance of them.”

Jonathan shared a look with Georgia. His sister rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she complained.

Jonathan smiled. “But all the same, it couldn’t hurt.”

*

A day later, Jonathan and his officers got their chance to try out Harte’s ruse. After jumping into the next system and cruising for two hours, Georgia and all six thousand of her fighters launched just minutes after Ozek’wa’s ships appeared. Led by Georgia’s freshly painted Talon, the Allied fighters immediately set off to intercept the Clan Lord’s fleet.

In caution, Ozek’wa’s ships slowed their approach into the system. Then they launched their own fighters as they prepared to face the Allied attack. Mere minutes later, a screening squadron came under attack by a handful of mines. That had been Iso’s idea. Just four ships were destroyed, but Ozek’wa’s ships slowed even more, fearing there were other minefields put in place to disrupt their formation before the Allied fighter strike. Then, just forty minutes before Georgia’s fighters closed with Ozek’wa’s, Harte’s decoys came online. From further out in the system, beyond its mass shadow, directly in line with the nearby nebula, they charged. Eleven thousand of them rushed Ozek’wa’s fleet in an attack that was perfectly timed to strike the Karacknids alongside Georgia’s fighters.

Ozek’wa reacted immediately. In an effort to disrupt the timing of the attacks, his fleet reversed course and began to charge the new threat. While his fighters dealt with Georgia’s, Ozek’wa planned to face off against Jonathan’s fleet. Except, of course, there were no Allied ships. Without enough drones to spare for the ruse, Harte and Iso had modified some mark VII missiles. Even modified, though, the missiles' ECM and sensors couldn’t put out the right kind of emissions for long. Just fifteen minutes after appearing, they began to fail.

Ozek’wa knew instantly he had been tricked. At once, his fleet turned and began to accelerate back into the system. When they did, Georgia’s fighters turned, showing their attack was also a feint. As both groups of warships recovered their fighters, the chase between them continued once again.

In total, causing Ozek’wa to slow and then turn bought Jonathan’s ships two hours over Ozek’wa. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And now that Jonathan’s officers had begun to think about ways they could trick the Karacknid Clan Lord, the ideas had been coming in thick and fast.

*

IS Imperial, 26th December 2514 AD.

Four more days of tricks and ruses followed as Jonathan zigzagged his way southeast through three different systems. Initially, Ozek’wa kept slowing his pursuit, fearing that one of Jonathan’s attacks might be real. As Tasata-su had told Jonathan more than once, among Karacknids, Humans had a reputation for employing cheap, dirty tricks. Jonathan was happy to reinforce that label. However, eventually, Ozek’wa grew tired of being fooled and began to ignore everything Jonathan tried, charging directly after the main body of Jonathan’s fleet. Not wanting to be caught out, Jonathan had no choice but to order his fleet to head for the Deloit system at full speed.

As soon as Imperial jumped into the Deloit system, her gravimetric COM sent out a series of pulses. A reply came seconds later from the large asteroid field – Shraw was in place. Jonathan’s ships then raced towards the inner system. There were several large planets near the system’s sun, and if he wanted, Jonathan could use any of them to slingshot his fleet towards one of the system’s shift passages.

Just half an hour after Imperial jumped into the system, Ozek’wa’s ships appeared and continued their pursuit without hesitation. “All right,” Jonathan said. “Open a COM channel. Let’s try this.”

When Rossi nodded to signal the channel was open, Jonathan began. “Clan Lord Ozek’wa,” he said, making his voice as formal as possible, “don’t you think this chase has gone on long enough? You’re not going to capture me or my fleet. So, let me offer you an honorable way out. I’m sure you know all about this system. It’s vital to Estus-san and your allies in the Dar’kanan Clan. Well, if you don’t end this chase, I’ll destroy every mining and processing facility in the large inner system asteroid field. I’m sure Estus-san wouldn’t want you to lose half of his clan’s rare metal production facilities.” Jonathan smiled sweetly. “Turn around, Clan Lord, and maybe we can face each other another day.”

Though Jonathan wasn’t sure a reply would come, he had dealt with enough prideful Karacknids to not be surprised when it did. Nor did Ozek’wa’s words surprise him.

“You are a coward and a false Imperator. You blaspheme by taking that title for yourself. Turn and fight me, and I will kill you like the dog you are,” a voice, presumably Ozek’wa’s, said savagely over the audio message sent from the Karacknid fleet.

“Well, he doesn’t sound very pleased,” Jonathan said to his officers. “General, I know you don’t have dogs on your homeworld. What exactly was he referring to?”

“I think your translation software has chosen a rather nicer description than what Ozek’wa intended,” Tasata-su said over his COM channel. “I’ll leave it to your imagination, Imperator.”

“Let’s see if we can rile him up a little more then,” Jonathan said, then nodded to Rossi. “Challenge me to a ship-on-ship trava-klan and I’ll gladly fight you, Clan Lord. If you won’t, then you leave me no choice but to destroy the mining facilities. I’ll leave it up to you to explain to Estus-san what happened here.”

“You are no Imperator,” Ozek’wa spat. “I will not sully the honor of all my species’ true Imperators by pretending to challenge you. You are no one, Somerville. Just like your father, you will die at the hands of my people, and then your worlds and species will follow.”

Jonathan took a moment to calm himself after the mention of his father. He wasn’t going to let Ozek’wa rile him up too. "I guess he is not going to take me up on either of my offers,” Jonathan said. “Very well, Iso, send the detonation order.”

It took the transmission five seconds to reach the large asteroid field. As soon as it did, over ten thousand detonation charges exploded. Every Karacknid facility in the asteroid field was blown to fragments. The debris then spread out, filling parts of the asteroid field and blocking sections from the sensors of any ships that passed by it. As Jonathan's ships moved adjacent to the asteroid field on their journey into the inner system, they had nothing to fear. They knew what was waiting within the field. Ozek’wa’s ships weren’t going to be so fortunate.

For half an hour after the detonations, Jonathan kept his fleet on the same heading as they passed by the asteroid field. Then, as Ozek’wa’s ships began to approach it, he nodded to Iso. “Time to turn.”

With every ship waiting for the order, they executed the turn within seconds. The Allied fleet began to charge Ozek’wa’s. At the same time, all six thousand of Georgia’s remaining fighters launched, and with her at their head, they set off towards the enemy fleet.

“Time to see how cautious he still wants to be,” Jonathan said to his officers. If Ozek’wa thought Jonathan was actually about to attack for real, he would have to assume Jonathan had found some additional forces. Otherwise, why would he have run for so many days? The obvious spot to hide a fleet of warships was the large asteroid field. Yet Jonathan and his officers had launched so many feint attacks already that it was entirely reasonable for Ozek'wa to assume Georgia’s fighters were simply attempting another one.

“They are launching fighters,” Harte reported a couple of minutes later.

“But they are not slowing,” Iso said.

“And not launching any additional recon drones toward the asteroid field,” Matthis added.

Jonathan grinned. “We have him!”

*

“All right, guys, just remember, we’re not doing this on our own. Hold your nerve, and we’ll decimate them,” Georgia said to her pilots confidently. Then, without any hesitation or tremors, she reached out, took her flight stick, and began testing her Talon’s maneuvering thrusters.

Ahead of her force of six thousand fighters, fourteen thousand Karacknid ones were coming straight at her. No doubt they thought she was going to turn and run back to her carriers at any moment. That wasn’t going to happen this time.

When Ozek’wa’s fighters were twenty minutes away from Georgia’s Talon, and too far from their carriers with too much momentum to retreat, Georgia’s reinforcements arrived. Eleven thousand fighters suddenly started accelerating out of the large asteroid field. Shraw’s Wing had come to join the battle!

The enemy fighters were suddenly presented with a dilemma. They could either continue their head-on charge toward Georgia’s fighters, risking a severe blow to her wing, or turn to face Shraw’s larger wing, which would slash through their formation, wreaking havoc. Choosing the lesser of two evils, the Karacknids turned, and Georgia angled her fighters to match them.

Fifteen minutes later, they slammed into Shraw’s fighters. Both sides exchanged thousands of missiles, followed by a deadly barrage of laser beams and plasma bolts. The fight lasted just fifteen seconds, but in that brief period, over eight thousand fighters from both sides were shot down. Just after Ozek’wa’s fighters emerged from the intense Allied fire, Georgia’s fighters crashed into the side of their formation. Missiles took out another thousand Karacknid fighters, and then the close-quarters combat began.

Georgia easily slipped into her hyper-focused state. Coming in through the side of the enemy formation, she had far more time than usual to target her enemies, and she used it ruthlessly. It took sixteen seconds for her Talon to reach the Karacknid fighters. As she twisted, weaved, and executed evasive maneuvers without thinking, the conscious part of her mind focused on target after target. With the gentlest touch or twist of her flight stick, she lined up her laser cannons. Each time she pressed the trigger, a stream of twelve beams was released. Not once did she miss. Six enemy fighters succumbed to her fire.

Then she zipped through the Karacknid formation. Immediately, she spun her fighter around and resumed her deadly fire. Five more enemy fighters were blown apart as her laser beams found their marks. By the time both groups moved out of range, Georgia’s force had lost two and a half thousand fighters, while the Karacknids were missing five thousand more. Nine thousand of the original fourteen thousand enemy fighters were now gone. They were a spent force, Georgia was sure. She had no doubt she’d face them again, but they wouldn’t be able to stop her from striking at Ozek’wa’s fleet.

As she regrouped her fighters and turned back toward Imperial, Georgia saw Shraw’s fleet of eight thousand warships emerge from the asteroid field. The Gramrian fighters were already racing back to their carriers to refuel and rearm for their next strike. Georgia watched the powerful fleet for several seconds and turned her focus away from them and prepared to do the same. The battle was only just beginning.

*

As soon as Shraw’s warships appeared, Iso and Harte calculated their trajectory in relation to Jonathan’s fleet. Then they projected a new course onto the main display. “Permission to turn?” Iso asked.

“Proceed,” Jonathan said with a nod. Quickly, his ships altered their heading slightly and reduced their acceleration rates so that they would come into missile range of Ozek’wa’s ships at the same time. A timer appeared on the display, showing that the first missiles would be exchanged in just thirty minutes.

“He's not turning,” Matthis commented. “After losing so many fighters, you’d think he’d try to run.”

“There’s nowhere to run,” Jonathan pointed out. “Not really. If he turns, we could just take our time, refuel our fighters, and send them out against him again and again. No, he’s still trying to finish what he came here to do. He’s coming for me.”

“You think he wants to charge into energy weapon range?” Iso asked. Jonathan simply nodded. Iso looked around at Harte and Matthis, then back at Jonathan. “Shouldn’t we slow down and try to keep them at arm’s length?”

“Not yet,” Jonathan replied. “If we do that too soon, he could turn and engage Shraw’s ships by themselves. We need to fight him together, or he’ll overwhelm whichever one of us he gets to first. Once we engage them, you have permission to go to full deceleration.” Jonathan had already done the calculations in his mind. “That should give Georgia’s fighters enough time to launch and strike Ozek’wa’s fleet before they enter energy weapon range.”

"Understood, sir," Iso said, though she didn’t sound quite as confident as Jonathan felt.

Jonathan smiled at her. “And don’t forget, Scott hasn’t made an appearance yet.”

“Admiral Scott? But how?” Iso asked. “We have detected no ships. Even if they jumped in now, they would never get here in time.”

“I am aware,” Jonathan said cryptically. He had hoped her ships would have arrived by now. Clearly, they were too far away, or they would have begun charging. He guessed Scott was keeping them hidden to avoid spooking Ozek’wa. If the Clan Lord turned his fleet to run, Jonathan would happily chase him, nipping at his heels with constant fighter strikes. Yet Jonathan much preferred a decisive action, and he knew Scott understood that.

“Open fire and begin decelerating as soon as we are in range,” Jonathan ordered. “Instruct the fleet to load all the Shadow and Whirlwind missiles we have into our first salvo.”

“Yes, sir,” Iso said, with more enthusiasm this time.

All three groups of ships came into range for their missiles within fifteen seconds of one another. Shraw fired first. His eight thousand ships released one hundred and seventy thousand missiles. Jonathan’s fleet added another two hundred and twenty-five thousand. Then Ozek’wa fired three hundred thousand at Jonathan’s fleet.

“We’re going to be taking losses from the start,” Jonathan said grimly, given the sheer weight of fire coming toward his fleet. “I want every fighter launched as soon as it's refueled and rearmed. If we lose a carrier, I want as few fighters in it as possible.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, each side fired three more salvos. Then the death and carnage began. Jonathan and Shraw’s salvos struck Ozek’wa’s fleet simultaneously. Faced with missiles coming from two divergent angles, the Karacknids had to split their defensive fire. Just before Ozek’wa’s ships opened fire on them, several thousand Allied missiles surged ahead of the main barrage. These were the Whirlwind missiles, and they detonated first.

Each Whirlwind missile released fifteen hundred stealthed tungsten balls, creating a wave of over three million deadly projectiles racing toward the Karacknid fleet. Most flew through the wide gaps between the enemy ships, but many found their targets. Small explosions rippled across Ozek’wa’s fleet. Every ship that suffered a hit lost vital external equipment like sensor nodes or point-defense emplacements. Just as importantly, the small explosions rocked the ships, throwing off the accuracy of the first volleys of defensive fire they tried to put up.

With their fire split between two incoming salvos and their formation disrupted, Ozek’wa’s ships struggled to defend themselves. Hundreds of missiles penetrated the defensive fire and began detonating against their targets, enveloping them in antimatter. While most of the Shadow missiles were shot down, over a hundred managed to get through. When each one detonated, for a fraction of a second, they caused a miniature black hole. Every nearby Karacknid ship was violently jolted toward the singularity. Inertial dampeners were immediately overwhelmed, the massive g-forces turning Karacknid warriors' bodies into mush and wreaking havoc on the ships' sensitive electronic hardware.

Then, just to the rear of the Karacknid fleet, sixteen hundred new contacts appeared. Coming out of stealth, the Allied fighters rushed in to add to the carnage. Scott had finally played her hand. As soon as her fighters revealed themselves, six thousand ships at the edge of the system came out of stealth and began accelerating toward the battle, though they wouldn’t reach the conflict in time to participate.

Jonathan didn’t mind; the sixteen hundred fighters Scott had managed to gather did plenty of damage on their own. For the second time, the enemy fleet disappeared from Imperial's sensors as grazer beams and antimatter warheads shredded over a thousand more of Ozek’wa’s ships. Undaunted by these serious losses, Ozek’wa’s fleet reappeared, flying through the destruction, and continuing their charge. The projected courses on Imperial’s main holo display showed that they would fire one more salvo before entering energy weapon range.

Jonathan's fleet came under attack just seconds after Scott’s fighters unleashed their fury. Even with the Kulrean worldships among his forces, three hundred thousand missiles were a lot for Jonathan's fleet to defend against. Inevitably, explosions began erupting across the front of Jonathan’s formation. He grimaced as the destruction started. Though Imperial, safely positioned at the heart of the Allied formation, was under no threat, Jonathan felt every loss deeply as hundreds of his ships succumbed to the enemy’s missiles.

With Ozek’wa’s fleet charging directly at Imperial, and the momentum of Jonathan’s ships still carrying them toward the enemy, the next missile salvos came in thick and fast. In the span of ten minutes and thirty seconds, three more salvos struck Ozek’wa’s and Jonathan’s fleets. Thousands of ships died on both sides. However, the initial Allied salvo, combined with Scott’s fighter strike, had already destroyed over two and a half thousand of Ozek’wa’s ships. Without them, the remaining Karacknid fleet stood no chance of fully defending itself against the subsequent missile strikes. Thousands more Karacknid ships were obliterated each time. Jonathan’s fleet fared slightly better, with losses counted in the hundreds, but the toll quickly added up.

“They're sending in their fighters,” Harte reported, his concern evident. “It’s going to be right after their final salvo!”

Jonathan had been keeping a close eye on the Karacknid fighter numbers. Like his own fleet, Ozek’wa had been launching his fighters in waves as soon as they were ready. Now four thousand enemy fighters were primed for battle. If even a tenth of them broke through and reached his fleet, they would wreak havoc. He had no choice but to split Georgia’s fighters.

“Inform Wing Commander Somerville that she needs to attack with whatever fighters she has,” Jonathan ordered swiftly. “She’s to divide her squadrons. One group will intercept Ozek’wa’s fighters.”

“Telling her now, Admiral,” Harte responded promptly.

Chapter 27

To produce such officers requires years of training and even more years of junior command experience. This can often leave our senior flag officers with little experience of politics and the world of commerce, yet the actions of such officers can have wide-ranging impacts on both of those worlds. Some see this as a drawback, but is it? Do we want senior commanders whose ties to political or commercial causes sway their strategic and tactical decision-making?
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

As the fighters that had managed to launch formed up with her, Georgia pulled them out to one side of the fleet. So many missiles and point defense weapons were firing that it was tantamount to suicide to stay near the Allied fleet. When the order came to attack, Georgia was torn. She knew she could take out many of Ozek’wa’s fighters, protecting the fleet from their deadly particle beams. Yet she wanted to take out an enemy ship. She bit her lip as she hesitated. A glance at her enemy made up her mind. Her eyes immediately locked onto the largest dreadnought in the Karacknid fleet as it burst through the clouds of antimatter and debris. It was clearly Ozek’wa’s flagship.

Immediately, she spoke to her pilots, her fingers dancing over the controls as she split her squadrons into two groups. “Here we go. We have orders to attack. We’re going to split up. Squadron Leader Jennings will take two-thirds of you and intercept the enemy fighters. The rest of us are going in with the fleet’s fifth salvo. Remember, they’re going to get into energy weapon range of our carriers right after we hit them. So, take out every ship you can, then get clear before the big boys fire! Fighters away!” she ordered.

Trusting Jennings and her squadrons to do their best, Georgia slipped into her hyperfocused state and accelerated her fighter forward. She led her squadrons in a loop around the blaze of fire and destruction that filled space between the two battling fleets. Then she set them on a course to strike just after her brother’s final salvo crashed into the Karacknids. She smiled when she saw Shraw’s fighters were coming in to join her.

Just before Georgia came into range of the enemy fleet’s defensive weapons, Ozek’wa’s fleet seemed to stutter in her vision. The last Allied salvo had consisted entirely of close-range mark VIII warheads. When the bomb-pumped laser warheads detonated, they sent ten thousand laser beams piercing into the Karacknid fleet. Well over a thousand ships simply vanished. Thousands more suffered severe damage as beams gouged steeples into them. Despite the devastation, the remaining Karacknid ships opened fire on Georgia’s squadrons seconds later.

With the fear and panic from her previous battles nearly forgotten, Georgia instantly fell into a flowing series of evasive maneuvers. While fighters all around her were blown apart, no one could touch her. Once again, her focus was entirely on the enemy flagship. This time, she intended to destroy it completely. The closer Georgia got to the enemy fleet, the more fire came her way as her squadrons were depleted. Then someone recognized her fighter. A second later, she felt a massive shift in the intensity of fire being directed at her. Instinctively, Georgia knew what had happened. The enemy’s response didn’t even cause a flicker of fear. She had faced worse against Estus-san’s fleet.

When the Talon fighters in Georgia’s attack got close enough to fire, Georgia held her finger off her trigger. The fresh wave of explosions amongst the Karacknid fleet temporarily reduced the fire coming her way. Then, as the Imperial fighters released their missiles, more Karacknid fire was directed against them. Georgia continued to twist and weave, waiting for just the right moment.

Time slowed down, and it suddenly felt like Georgia could see into the future. Ozek’wa’s flagship, along with its protective flotilla, were carrying out evasive maneuvers. The cruisers, destroyers, and frigates in the flotilla had put themselves in front of their Clan Lord’s ship. Yet for a split second, Georgia just knew where each was going to be. In her mind’s eye, a clear path opened up. With the slightest of movements from her flight stick, Georgia slid her Talon right in front of that path. A second later, the wildly maneuvering ships all lined up perfectly. Georgia squeezed her trigger.

A grazer beam shot out of Georgia's cannon and covered the distance in 0.1 seconds. The beam struck exactly where Georgia had aimed. At such close range, it burned through the dreadnought's hull with ease. Then it ate its way through several decks and bulkheads, cutting directly to its target. With over a third of its destructive energy left, the beam severed one of the dreadnought's main power relays. The excess energy triggered rippling explosions that tore through decks and bulkheads, blasting out through the dreadnought’s hull. When the explosions reached the reactors, a moment later, Ozek’wa’s flagship was nothing but a rapidly expanding cloud of microscopic particles.

Georgia snapped out of her hyperfocus state just enough to let out a whoop of joy. Then, remembering how close both fleets were, she desperately spun her fighter away from the remnants of the enemy fleet. Seconds later, alarms blared from her cockpit as massive energy beams lit up space all around her.

*

Jonathan gripped his command chair as several squadrons of Karacknid fighters charged against his fleet. Georgia’s fighters had decimated the enemy's numbers, but some had survived. They attacked just after Ozek’wa’s fourth salvo had torn large holes in his formation. From their angle of approach, it was clear they were gunning for Imperial.

Before the enemy fighters could get close to his flagship, hundreds of Tasata-su’s Free Karacknid ships closed in around Imperial. The enemy fighters fired their particle beams, trying to blast a path through. Many of Tasata-su’s ships were lost. Other Imperial ships also threw themselves into the line of fire. While Jonathan's ships perished, the enemy fighters died even faster. In just ten seconds, all were shot down, but the attack had cost Jonathan over a hundred Allied ships.

Jonathan barely had time to react before the fifth and final Karacknid salvo struck his fleet. He caught a glimpse of Georgia’s fighters starting their charge, synchronized with his own fifth missile salvo, before Imperial’s sensors were blinded by the detonation of antimatter warheads all around her.

When the sensors cleared, Jonathan immediately searched for the enemy fleet. Over a thousand warships were gone. His eyes widened when he saw an empty part of space where Ozek’wa’s flagship had been. Then, he spotted Georgia’s fighter desperately pulling away from the enemy fleet and realized what had happened.

“Firing phase cannons!” Harte called out.

Everyone braced themselves. Fear for Georgia stabbed through Jonathan. She was still too close to the enemy fleet. Even if he wanted to call out a warning to Harte, there was no time. A fraction of a second later, Imperial and every other Allied warship with long-range phase cannons fired. The beams obliterated everything they touched. Jonathan grunted in satisfaction as Imperial’s beam ripped through an enemy dreadnought. Seconds later, the ship fired her two smaller phase cannons, vaporizing two enemy battleships.

Desperately, Jonathan scanned for Georgia’s fighter but couldn’t spot her. The rapidly shrinking space between the fleets was now filled with fluctuating energy and wreckage from destroyed missiles. Then, as Harte and every other tactical officer fired their ships' close-range heavy energy weapons, all hell broke loose. Tens of thousands of plasma bolts and laser beams crisscrossed between both fleets.

Two thousand four hundred of Ozek’wa’s ships had survived the charge. Jonathan’s fleet fared much better, with seven thousand ships remaining. Yet, even with Ozek’wa dead, his ships continued his mission. Every enemy vessel that could, targeted Imperial and the ships clustered around her.

In the blink of an eye, hundreds more Free Karacknid ships perished under the heavy laser beams fired by the enemy fleet. They weren’t the only ones. Imperial class dreadnoughts, Kulrean worldships, and Kalassai cityships, all tightly arrayed around Imperial, were also ripped apart as, in some cases, twenty or more beams sliced through them, cutting them to pieces.

Imperial suffered as well. She shuddered violently as beams sliced into her. Jonathan's straps immediately tightened further around him as waves of vibrations rumbled beneath his feet and up through his command chair. He sensed at least three distinct shockwaves. A fraction of a second later, alarms blared throughout the bridge, and the force of the impact suddenly threw Jonathan to one side. He knew right away that Imperial had lost some of her engines.

They weren’t dead yet, though—far from it. Imperial had been built specifically to go toe-to-toe with an oversized dreadnought as powerful as Tanaka-lan’s had been. With two layers of shields and valstronium armor even thicker than a Kulrean worldship, much of the destructive energy from the four beams that struck her was deflected or absorbed. Still, two beams broke through her hull, gouging deep wounds into the massive warship.

Immediately, Matthis began shouting orders as he fought to regain control of the ship. Jonathan nodded to Iso, and she, along with his staff officers, joined in to assist Matthis’ crew where they could. All the while, Jonathan braced himself, ready for the second salvo of energy beams the Karacknids were undoubtedly preparing to fire. But they never came.

Within thirty seconds, Imperial’s unbalanced flight path was corrected, and the g-forces on everyone eased. Within a minute, the feed from Imperial’s working sensors was reconnected to the bridge. Jonathan’s eyes immediately searched for the enemy fleet. They widened in surprise when he saw nothing but a cloud of debris. His fleet had obliterated every single Karacknid ship—none had survived.

As Jonathan turned to assess his own fleet, his heart sank. The space around Imperial looked no better. He was confronted with the wreckage of hundreds of ships. Tens of thousands of his people had died protecting him from the enemy’s fire. Still, beyond Imperial’s immediate vicinity, thousands of his ships remained. At least four thousand appeared largely intact, while a couple of thousand more looked more like wrecks than warships. But they’ll have survivors on them. People we need to get to! Jonathan reminded himself.

Before he could give the order to begin SAR operations, his eyes sought out one more thing. He slumped back into his command chair when he saw it. Of course, he should have known, but he was immensely relieved nonetheless. Georgia’s fighter had already rejoined the survivors from her squadron and was angling back towards Imperial.

“Launch all SAR shuttles,” Jonathan ordered, though he could already see on the display that many ships were doing so even as he spoke. “Prioritize getting our people off the most damaged ships. Then we can worry about getting others under tow.”

“At once, Admiral,” Iso replied.

“Rossi, signal Shraw and Scott and request their aid.”

“Yes, sir,” Rossi responded.

Jonathan took a moment to reassess his fleet. Five thousand of the ships he had brought into battle were gone, destroyed without a trace. At least two thousand more would have to be abandoned if they didn’t break up on their own in the next several hours. He had lost over half his fleet. Yet another Clan Lord is dead, Jonathan consoled himself. That makes it worth it. It has to.

For six hours, Jonathan worked with his staff officers as they scoured the battlefield for survivors, transferred medical and engineering teams to assist the most damaged ships, took others under tow, and then began scuttling ships they couldn’t save. With Shraw’s and later Scott’s help, they rescued every person and salvaged every ship they could. Eventually, what remained of Jonathan’s fleet was divided into two groups. Only fifteen hundred ships were deemed capable of being returned to a battle-ready state; these were added to Scott’s fleet. The rest were prepared for the long journey back to the Gal-tak Clan’s capital. Some of these ships would undergo repairs there, but the majority would require escort all the way back to Earth.

Though Matthis protested, the last ship Jonathan assigned to the second group was Imperial. She had taken four direct hits from laser beams. While most of the damage was superficial, full repairs would require at least a week in a repair yard.

“If I’m going to fight any other Clan Lords in trava-klan, I need Imperial in perfect fighting condition,” Jonathan told Matthis. “That means your duty is to get her completely repaired. You wouldn’t risk your Emperor with a half-ready ship, would you?”

“No,” Matthis grumbled begrudgingly.

Jonathan nodded, satisfied. “Then rejoin me as soon as she’s fixed.” Turning to Iso, Harte, and Rossi, he said, “Come on, you three.” He glanced at his other staff officers. “The rest of you can help Matthis get Imperial back into fighting shape. I’m sure I’ll see you all soon.”

“What about us? Where are we going?” Harte asked from his seat.

Jonathan smiled. “To Constitution. We’re going to join Scott. I want to head north as quickly as possible. If Reverus still has Estus-san engaged, we can flank him and crush him between our forces before he knows what’s happening. If we’re quick, we can kill two Clan Lords for the price of one!”

Chapter 28

War often makes for strange bedfellows. The Second Karacknid War is as good an example of the truth in this proverb as any other.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Constitution, 21st December 2514 AD, (five days later).

For five days, Jonathan raced north with Shraw and Scott’s ships, along with the remnants of his fleet. Then they received word from Reverus. The Eaglaton Admiral had fought a brief battle with Estus-san’s ships. Both sides had taken minor losses before disengaging. Within a couple of hours of the fight, Estus-san’s fleet had turned around and begun racing westwards.

“Ozek’wa or even Estus-san must have had frigates watching your battle with Ozek’wa,” Scott said as they both read through Reverus’ report. Along with Constitution’s officers, both Scott’s and some of Jonathan’s staff officers were crammed onto the dreadnought’s bridge. “He got word of Ozek’wa’s defeat and knew we would be coming for him.”

Jonathan nodded as he pulled up a star map of Estus-san’s territory, updated with the latest intel from Reverus. “Even if we find a way to pick up our pace, it’ll be a struggle to cut him off now.” Jonathan didn’t bother trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“But we know where he’s going,” Harte said eagerly. On the star map, the capital of the Dar’kanan Clan began to flash. “Their capital is the only world with enough fortifications to allow him to stand up against our combined might. We could beat him there.”

Jonathan brought a hand up to rub his jaw. The Dar’kanan capital was two weeks’ travel from Constitution’s current location. It would also require Estus-san to take his fleet through several fortified systems. He could ignore the fortifications, but the farther he went into Dar’kanan territory, the more he risked getting cut off. No supply convoys could follow him. And if any other clans had brought fleets to fight them, they could be surrounded. Yet, if Estus-san reached his capital world and sat behind his battlestations, they would take significant losses trying to destroy his fleet. Given the losses Jonathan had just suffered, he was in no rush to endure any more.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Jonathan said. “We’ll take this route,” he added as he selected one of the three possible paths Harte had outlined on the star map. It bent farther south than the other two, but that meant there would be less chance of word reaching Estus-san of their advance. “Let’s detach two thousand ships and send them north to reinforce Reverus. If we’re going to do this, I don’t want Estus-san doubling back on us.”

“I’ll see to that immediately,” Iso said.

Jonathan turned to Scott. “What do you think, Admiral?”

Scott smiled. “If it works, it’ll be fun to see the look on Estus-san’s face when he realizes we got there ahead of him.”

Jonathan nodded. That was enough for him. “Rossi, dispatch two fast frigates north. Inform Reverus what we’re up to and instruct him to keep the pressure on Estus-san.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Rossi said.

“Let’s not waste time. Turn the fleet. Let’s get moving,” Jonathan ordered.

*

Initially, the move west proved uneventful. As the Allied fleet passed through several Dar’kanan mining systems and some systems with inhabited planets, the Dar’kanan forces gave them a wide berth. Either they fled before the advancing fleet or hunkered down behind the small orbital defenses, well out of weapons' reach of Jonathan’s fast-moving ships. The only difficulty came from the locals, who on two occasions started rioting or even rebelling when they saw Jonathan’s distant fleet. Once again, Jonathan felt bad leaving them to their fate, especially with Karacknid warships in orbit, but he knew what he was doing was for their ultimate good, so his fleet didn’t slow or stop.

As they got closer to the Dar’kanan capital world, Jonathan started to get nervous. The longer he was out of contact with Reverus, the more he began to imagine things that might have gone wrong. Even with the extra two thousand ships Jonathan had detached to join Reverus, Estus-san might have turned and tried to do battle with the Eaglaton Admiral’s forces. With twelve thousand ships in his fleet, Estus-san was still a serious threat. It was also possible the Dar’kanan Clan Lord had received more reinforcements of one kind or another.

Yet there was nothing Jonathan could do to speed up his fleet any further or to get in contact with Reverus. His fleet was committed now, and so he was largely reduced to the role of a passenger aboard Constitution. The only commands he gave were denials to requests from commanders like Rear Admiral O’Kane, who kept asking permission to detach their squadrons to raid the systems they passed through.

Eventually, after fifteen days of travel through six different systems, Jonathan’s fleet reached Urantakar, the capital world of the Dar’kanan Clan. As Constitution sat outside the system, waiting for the scouts they had sent forward to return with news, Jonathan’s nerves spiked again. This time, he was worried Estus-san had beaten them to his capital.

The moment two destroyers jumped out of shift space beside the fleet, Jonathan and every other officer on Constitution’s bridge sat up in their command chairs. They all turned to Rossi at the COM console. “Here is the data,” she said a moment later as she looked up at the main display.

Jonathan smiled. The system was all but empty. Hundreds of freighters and other civilian ships were moving about, but other than the one hundred warships in low orbit around the capital world, there was no sign of a powerful Dar’kanan garrison or Estus-san’s fleet. “Take us in,” Jonathan ordered. “Deploy O’Kane’s squadron to block the system’s other eastern shift passage and move us into attack range.”

Two hours later, Jonathan’s thirteen thousand ships moved into range of the Dar’kanan capital’s orbital defenses while O’Kane made sure no word left the system to tell Estus-san they were there. The Dar’kanan defenses consisted of two hundred and fifty large battlestations, five hundred smaller stations, and one hundred warships. With his bombard cruisers left behind during the rush west, Jonathan elected for a safe but slow strategy. His fleet passed just inside the range of the defenses long enough to fire one salvo of missiles.

Four hundred and sixty thousand missiles descended on the Dar’kanan defenders. They fired just forty thousand back in return. But not all of them reached Jonathan’s ships, for Georgia’s fighters swooped in on the missiles, destroying many of them. By the time the Allied fleet’s point defenses opened up on the remainder, only six managed to strike Allied ships. It was a very different experience for the Dar’kanan defenders. Thousands of missiles poured through their defenses, damaging or destroying many of their largest battlestations.

It took an hour for Jonathan’s ships to arrest momentum, turn, and return to fire a second salvo. When they did, the defenders were able to fire just thirty-three thousand missiles this time. The Allied numbers were almost exactly the same as in their first salvo, and the overwhelming number of missiles ravaged the Dar’kanans again.

Over the next five hours, Jonathan slowly reduced the Dar’kanan capital’s defenses to debris until Estus-san had nowhere to hide. Then Jonathan turned his fleet and placed it directly between the capital and the shift passage where Estus-san was expected to appear.

The Allied fleet didn’t have to wait long. Just eighteen hours later, thousands of Karacknid warships began to flood into the system. Jonathan was on the bridge within a minute of the first one being spotted. He waited until all of Estus-san’s fleet was in the system, then he turned to his sister. “I think we should offer him a warm welcome. See if you can lure out what’s left of his fighters and finish them off.”

“With pleasure, Admiral,” Georgia said as she stood from her command chair and quickly left the bridge.

Jonathan turned to Scott. “We’ll take out his fighters and then wait for Reverus to join us. After that, I’m sure Georgia will want to finish what she started—if we can locate his new flagship.”

“That’s if he sticks around that long,” Scott said. “He might take one look at our forces and he might try to run past us.”

Jonathan nodded. That was one possibility they had discussed. Or Estus-san might throw his fleet against Reverus’ ships. That was why he wanted to take out the Clan Lord’s fighters right away. If they could, that would at least remove one threat. “Take us forward,” he said to Iso. Moving his fleet as close to Estus-san as possible would also reduce the time the Clan Lord would have to attack Reverus if that was his plan.

Over the next hour, Estus-san’s fleet moved cautiously into the system. Not wanting to have their ships attacked by Georgia’s eleven thousand fighters, the Dar’kanans sent out what was left of their wing to intercept the attack. The fighters were the same ones Georgia had fought seventeen days ago when she damaged Estus-san’s first flagship. After several engagements with Reverus’ fleet, there were now even fewer of them. Just four thousand moved to engage Georgia’s wing. In a dogfight that lasted just fifteen minutes, every single Karacknid fighter was shot down. Rather than continuing to attack Estus-san’s warships, Georgia turned her fighters back to their carriers. They would refuel and rearm, ready to go in with the first missile salvos.

Realizing the danger he was in, Estus-san’s fleet suddenly went to full acceleration. However, instead of charging Jonathan’s fleet or trying to reach his capital world, his ships attempted to race past the Allied fleet to the other side of the system.

“He’s abandoning his capital,” Tasata-su said over the COM channel open from his flagship. “That is not going to go down well.”

“Nor is it going to be successful,” Jonathan responded. “Cut him off, but stay out of missile range for now,” he said, nodding to Iso.

As Estus-san’s ships raced around the outer system, it was easy for Iso to head him off. Then, over the next forty minutes, the Dar’kanan Clan Lord tried several maneuvers in an effort to shake off his pursuers. Iso matched him move for move.

Alarms announced the arrival of Reverus’ fleet. All six thousand of his ships jumped in at the same point Estus-san’s had. Without needing an order from Jonathan, Reverus launched his twelve hundred fighters and sent them chasing after Estus-san’s ships. “You’re up again,” Jonathan said, turning to his sister, who had just sat down in her command chair moments ago. “We’ll move in, and you can coordinate with Reverus’ fighters.”

“Yes, sir, with pleasure,” Georgia said. “Let me know if you can identify his flagship.”

“We will,” Jonathan assured her. He had his best signals analysts assessing all the transmissions within the Dar’kanan fleet, but so far, Estus-san was doing a good job of keeping his location a secret. Though, as Tasata-su had pointed out, that only served to weaken his position with his subordinates. A Karacknid commander was meant to lead from the front.

Over the course of the next fifty minutes, Georgia launched her fighters and joined up with Reverus’ wing. At the same time, Iso maneuvered the Allied fleet to cut off Estus-san’s ships, gradually closing in while Reverus followed from behind. Though Reverus' ships wouldn't be able to engage at first, they would catch up to Estus-san's fleet before the fighting was over. There was going to be no escape for the Clan Lord.

As Georgia’s fighters neared the Dar’kanan fleet, the meager force that had survived her earlier attack came out to meet her. They were easily swept aside. Georgia then set her fighters on a heading to charge the Dar’kanan fleet as soon as the missiles started flying.

“Admiral, I… we’re being hailed by one of the Dar’kanan ships,” Rossi said. “It’s Estus-san. He’s requesting to speak with you.”

“Requesting?”

“Yes sir, that’s what the message says.”

“Can you trace the transmission? Which dreadnought is it coming from?” Scott asked.

“This one here,” Rossi said, highlighting a ship within the Dar’kanan fleet. “But they could be relaying it from another dreadnought.”

“Pass the info on to Georgia anyway,” Jonathan said. “And I suppose you'd better connect us.”

“Admiral Somerville,” Estus-san said, his tone carrying far more respect than Jonathan expected.

“Clan Lord Estus-san,” Jonathan replied, giving the Karacknid the smallest of nods.

“I wish to congratulate you on a well-fought campaign. You escaped Ozek’wa’s trap, killed him, and defeated his fleet. Now, you have surrounded me. Your battle prowess is as admirable as your father’s was.”

Jonathan was even more surprised. “You honor me with your words, Clan Lord. Your forces have fought bravely so far as well.”

Estus-san nodded but didn’t speak for several seconds. “I was wondering,” he said slowly, pausing again as he glanced around, presumably at his officers, “if you would be willing to accept my oath of allegiance as the Dar’kanan Clan Lord to you as Imperator.”

If not for his harness, Jonathan would have fallen out of his seat. Though his mother had spent years training him to control his facial expressions, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes bulged. “You want to end this war and join me?”

Estus-san rolled his head in a Karacknid equivalent of a shrug. “You have conquered the Gal-tak Clan and killed the Uemi’ta Clan’s Lord. Now, you have my fleet surrounded. It would seem to make sense to join you rather than die for nothing.”

Jonathan didn’t know what to think. The idea of defeating Estus-san’s fleet without firing another missile was very appealing. Yet he didn’t trust the Dar’kanan Clan Lord one bit. “Give me a couple of minutes to consider your offer, Clan Lord,” Jonathan said, gesturing for Rossi to cut the COM channel. “What do you all think?” he asked his senior commanders.

“How can we trust him?” Scott said. “If we accept his oath, he could just betray us the minute we take our fleet out of his territory. Then we’d have a large hostile force at our rear.”

“And don’t forget, many of his ships were among those who killed our father and nuked our worlds,” Georgia added, linked in from her fighter.

After a brief time delay due to the distance between them, Reverus chimed in. “But how can we give up such an opportunity? If we fight, we’ll lose thousands of our warships, even if we destroy his fleet.”

“And if he swears, we won’t need nearly as many ships to occupy the clan’s territory,” Shraw pointed out.

Jonathan turned to the holo image of Tasata-su. “What do you think, General? You know Estus-san and his people best.”

“If he swears, he’ll be honor-bound to fulfill his oath,” Tasata-su said slowly. “At least until you do something he considers justification for breaking it. There’s another problem though: if he swears and we leave his territory, one of his subordinates could challenge and kill him, which would void the oath.”

Tasata-su continued, “However, we could take steps to limit these risks. If Estus-san swears, we could have him serve as an advisor on one of our ships. Surrounded by Free Karacknids, it would be difficult for anyone to challenge him. Additionally, we could have his top officers swear to you and assign them to their western border. With Ozek’wa dead and his fleet destroyed, the Uemi’ta Clan is weak. We could contain Estus-san’s commanders’ ambitions by allowing them to conquer parts of the Uemi’ta territory.”

“So you think I should accept?” Jonathan pressed.

Tasata-su nodded. “If we essentially keep him a prisoner on our fleet, we could add many of his ships to ours. But I don’t know how he’ll react to the terms you’ll likely demand.”

Jonathan agreed. He couldn’t simply accept Estus-san’s oath and allow him to run his clan’s territory as he always had. That would make Jonathan no better than the Imperators his father had fought and killed. “Alright then, I’ll give him my terms and see how he responds,” Jonathan decided. “Rossi, reconnect us.”

“Admiral, have you had time to consider my offer?” Estus-san asked as his face reappeared before Jonathan.

“Yes, thank you. I needed to speak with my advisers,” Jonathan replied, summoning the formal tone his mother had taught him. “Clan Lord Estus-san, I will accept your oath and that of your clan, on two conditions. First, all of your senior leaders and commanders must swear allegiance to me alongside you. Second, you must accept the same terms of surrender I agreed upon with the Gal-tak Clan. Every system you currently control that was once home to a sentient species must be returned.”

“In exchange, I will allow your people to trade freely with the other clans and families sworn to me, as well as with all the allied species that are part of my alliance. You will also have my permission to raid and conquer Uemi’ta Clan territory—but only systems that are not home to sentient species. Will you and your people accept those terms?”

“You enforced those terms on the Gal-taks after killing their Clan Lord and conquering their worlds,” Estus-san said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I am offering you my allegiance with my fleet intact and my worlds unconquered.”

“Your fleet is surrounded and about to be destroyed, Clan Lord,” Jonathan pointed out. “I can kill you now and appoint whoever I like as your replacement. By surrendering to me, you are accepting that I have defeated you. By swearing an oath, you will embrace me as your true Imperator. These are my terms, and they will be the terms I require from every Karacknid clan that joins me. There will be no negotiation.”

Estus-san’s face twisted in displeasure. It was clear he was far from happy. Yet, if he wanted to live, he had no choice. “I accept,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I will swear to you under these terms.”

Jonathan fought to keep his face composed. “And I will accept your oath, Clan Lord. We can begin making the arrangements immediately.”

Chapter 29

Some historians will say the invasion of the Karacknid Empire was a carefully planned and orchestrated campaign from start to finish. Others will argue that it was entirely haphazard and reactive. The truth, I believe, lies somewhere in between.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

6th January 2515 AD.

Just a day after his treaty with Estus-san, Jonathan found himself sitting on another large, ornate throne. This time, it was in Estus-san’s palace at the center of the capital city of Urantakar. Free Karacknid warriors lined the large throne room, as they did the entire city. Until Estus-san had sworn his oaths, Tasata-su was taking no risks with Jonathan’s life. That was fine with Jonathan.

Spread out before him in two rough columns were an assortment of his senior officers, gathered as witnesses for what was about to happen. For now, quiet chatter filled the room as they talked among themselves. “How much longer?” Jonathan asked as he leaned over one side of his throne toward Tasata-su, who stood beside him in his finest armor.

“Another five minutes at least,” the General replied. “Anything less, and it will look like you’re eager to see him.”

Jonathan nodded and sat back. Though he was eager to get it over with, he needed to make it clear to Estus-san that they were not equals. Currently, some of Tasata-su’s guards were keeping Estus-san and all the Dar’kanan Clan officials and commanders waiting outside the throne room.

For six more minutes, Jonathan entertained himself by moving imaginary symbols of his various fleets around the star map of the Karacknid empire he kept in his head. So far, the invasion was progressing better and quicker than he’d hoped when he’d left Earth. Yet conquering two of the Karacknid’s fourteen clans was still far from securing the lasting peace he sought. There was much left to plan and prepare.

When Tasata-su stood a little straighter, Jonathan was snapped back to the present. The Karacknid General gave him a nod, and Jonathan raised his hand, immediately silencing the room. “Clan Lord Estus-san of the Dar’kanan Clan and his entourage may enter.”

Four Karacknid warriors heaved the massive doors open, and the room fell utterly silent. With eyes cast down, Estus-san slowly walked into his own throne room and made his way between the two columns of officers. Behind him, at least fifty senior fleet officers and government officials followed at a distance, their eyes also fixed on the floor as they approached.

Estus-san stopped five meters before the large platform where Jonathan’s throne stood. He then fell to his knees and fully prostrated himself before Jonathan. “Imperator, I come to you as Lord of the Dar’kanan Clan to offer you my oath of allegiance.”

“Arise and give me your oath, Clan Lord,” Jonathan said formally.

Estus-san rose to his knees and spoke his oath. “I, Taran Estus-san, Clan Lord of the Dar’kanan Clan, swear my fealty and the fealty of my clan, and all families sworn to me, to you, Imperator Somerville. We will honor and obey you, the rightful Imperator of the Karacknid Empire.”

“I accept your oaths, and in return, I swear to provide for and protect your clan and to bring honor to all who serve me,” Jonathan promised. “Now stand, Clan Lord, and join the ranks of my bannermen.”

Estus-san stood, bowing deeply to Jonathan. Jonathan bent slightly in acknowledgment, as was appropriate, then Estus-san turned and moved to join the gathered officers witnessing the ceremony. Jonathan took a deep breath as he gazed over the rest of the Dar’kanan leaders who had come to swear their allegiance. Normally, they would swear together, but to make it clear to them—and to all the people of the Dar’kanan Clan—that they owed Jonathan their allegiance, Tasata-su had insisted they swear individually.

Let’s get on with it, Jonathan thought to himself as he gestured for the first official to approach. For the next half hour, he repeated the same words over and over again as he worked his way through the line of government officials and fleet commanders.

Eventually, the last official swore his oaths. Jonathan let out a long, slow breath as the official turned and joined the ranks of the others. Conversations quickly broke out among the assembled officers as soon as the ceremony ended. Jonathan then waited the minimum amount of time that was appropriate—about ten minutes—before standing from his throne. Every conversation stopped as all officers turned to face him. Jonathan gave a small bow and then turned to leave. He had a great deal of work ahead of him if he was going to bring the Dar’kanan Clan’s territory firmly under his control and continue his advance deeper into the Karacknid Empire.

*

IS Constitution, Urantakar Orbit, 28th January 2515 AD, (three weeks later),

After three weeks of planning, organizing, and dispatching forces throughout Dar’kanan territory, Jonathan finally felt ready to gather his senior officers. At his request, Iso assembled over fifty flag officers of Commodore rank or above, including Estus-san and all of his senior officers who hadn’t already been dispatched with fleets westward to attack the Uemi’ta Clan.

As they began to arrive in Constitution's large briefing room, Jonathan greeted each of them and took a moment to speak with them one by one. Most of them he had known well before they had left Earth, and by now, he knew all of them. Almost all had also distinguished themselves in one way or another in the fighting over the last several months, so it was easy for Jonathan to speak with them and offer encouragement. The only officers he didn’t know well were Estus-san’s, but over the past weeks, he had dealt with them on more than one occasion, so they were not strangers either. As with all the other Karacknid officers Jonathan had worked with, he knew that if he respected them and kept aloof from them, they would respect him in return.

“Wing Commander Somerville,” a loud and not entirely friendly voice suddenly said, causing several heads to turn.

Jonathan quickly disengaged from the conversation he was in to find the source of the voice. It was Estus-san. He wore the same decorative armor he had on the day he swore allegiance to Jonathan. Right now, he was standing in front of Georgia, looking her up and down.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Wing Commander,” Estus-san said after assessing Georgia, though it wasn’t clear from his tone that he meant it. “I have been eager to do so since swearing to your brother. I can’t help but wonder how our first encounter would have gone if my gunners had been a little more competent. I confess, I still do not understand how you did it. You flew through my fleet’s entire defensive fire and very nearly destroyed my flagship. It should have been impossible. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would call anyone who claimed such a feat happened a liar. So tell me, how did you do it?”

Georgia looked completely at ease even as she stared up at the large, muscular warrior towering over her. She actually smiled as she replied, “I am the sister of an Imperator, don’t forget. I guess I just have good genetics. Since we’re sharing confessions, I suppose I have one as well. I was very disappointed that I failed to destroy your flagship. Though perhaps now, I’m glad I didn’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet such an esteemed Clan Lord,” she said with a flourish of a bow.

“Perhaps?” Estus-san asked in a pointed tone.

Georgia’s smile widened. “Perhaps you think you would have been happier if your pilots had shot me down and your fleet’s ambush of my brother’s fleet had been successful?”

Estus-san’s stern look softened, and he actually laughed. “But then I wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet such an esteemed pilot as yourself, Imperator’s sister.” He gave Georgia a deep bow to match hers.

Georgia held out her hand to Estus-san, offering him her unguarded wrist. “May we cause more damage to our enemies than we managed to do to one another.”

Estus-san grasped Georgia’s hand as he failed to contain a laugh. “An excellent sentiment. I guess I am glad you are on my side, Wing Commander. I wouldn’t want to see you charging my flagship a second time.”

Georgia bowed again. “Your words honor me, Clan Lord.”

Jonathan relaxed as the tension in the room dissipated, and Georgia and Estus-san continued to converse. He returned to the officer he had been speaking to, apologized, and drew the officer back into their conversation.

Several minutes later, Iso grabbed his elbow and informed him that everyone had arrived. Jonathan nodded to her. She then cleared her throat. “Time to begin, everyone, to your seats, please.”

Jonathan made his way to the podium and waited patiently for everyone to find a seat and for the conversations to die down. As soon as they did, he projected a star map of the southern half of the Karacknid Empire. Two clan territories directly to the east of Gal-tak space were flashing.

“We have received word from Admiral Hawcrans,” Jonathan said, gesturing to the flashing areas of space. “His invasion is progressing well. Two months ago, he smashed the few Das’tana Clan fleets that protected their border and raided many of their most important worlds. Then he and his fleet moved east into Tars’tazan Clan territory, where they confronted and killed the Tars’tazan Clan Lord. Soon, they will be near the northern Gal-tak border and ready to coordinate with us.

“That means it is time for us to prepare to depart,” Jonathan said as he tapped the datapad on the podium, causing a single Dar’kanan system to begin flashing. It was located in the northeastern corner of Estus-san’s territory, close to the Gal-tak and Yanum-mi clans. “Before the day is out, we will be dispatching our first squadrons to the Zadon system. Orders have already been sent to Sadarson for our forces there to do the same. Zadon will become our new base of operations as we continue our campaign against the Karacknid Empire. Our next target is the Yanum-mi Clan.”

Jonathan paused for a moment to let his words sink in. The Yanum-mi Clan was one of the oldest Karacknid families raised to the status of a clan. Many of their worlds had been conquered by the Karacknids millennia ago and were heavily developed and fortified. Moreover, in contrast to the other clans Jonathan’s fleet had fought, a significant portion of the ships the Yanum-mi Clan sent with Tanaka-lan had survived their failed invasion of Human space. Everyone knew it was going to be a far harder challenge than what they had faced so far.

“It will take some time to ready all our forces,” Jonathan continued, “but we must move as fast as we can. The Yanum-mi will know we are coming for them. It is likely they may even be planning their own invasion of Gal-tak space to retake the systems we conquered. We must strike first and put them on the defensive before they can do the same to us.

Jonathan confronted everyone’s concerns head on. “This campaign against the Yanum-mi will be our hardest yet. But if we can put them on the defensive, we will have a decisive advantage. Clan Lord Estus-san and six thousand of his warships will be coming with us.” Jonathan nodded to Estus-san and continued. “We have also been joined by two Mindus border fleets that no longer need to guard their border.” Jonathan nodded to the two Mindus Rear Admirals who had bolstered this element of his fleet. “And additionally, another reinforcement fleet should have reached Gal-tak space from Earth and will be ready to join us at Zadon. Altogether, I expect our strength to rise to at least thirty-two thousand warships."

“Under his command, Admiral Hawcrans has another twenty-three thousand warships. When we combine them, we will have the strength to defeat our enemy, though it will still require every ounce of skill and ability that we all have. The Yanum-mi Clan territory is well defended, and it may be they have called in reinforcements from other nearby clans. However, if we can defeat the Yanum-mi, then the path to our primary objective will be open.”

Jonathan tapped his datapad again. The star map zoomed out to show the systems north of Yanum-mi territory. One system was flashing: the Karacknid homeworld, Gayla. “Some of you have known this from the beginning, but now it is time for all of you to know. Gayla is not just the homeworld of the Karacknids; it is also their throne world. No Karacknid Imperator can be crowned unless they control Gayla. All the Karacknid warriors who have sworn to me have done so because they believe I am the true heir of my father, who defeated Tanaka-lan in trava-klan and thus became the rightful claimant to the title of Imperator.

“However, the vast majority of the Karacknid people do not accept me yet. Almost every other Clan Lord is now vying to see themselves crowned. To win the acceptance of every clan, they must hold Gayla and be crowned Imperator within its palace.”

Jonathan leaned over and smiled at his officers. “We are going to take Gayla. There, I can be crowned Imperator, fully legitimizing my claim.” Jonathan raised his hands. “I doubt that will sway any of the other clans to join us immediately, but it will accomplish something almost as important. As long as we hold Gayla, the Karacknid clans will never be able to crown an Imperator. By conquering this one system, we can ensure the rest of their clans will never unite against us. Instead of focusing on invading Earth, Varanni Prime, Vestar, or any of our worlds, they will be focused on taking Gayla.

“With three Karacknid clan territories under our control, and two more smashed by Admiral Hawcrans, the balance of power will be in our favor. We will be able to focus all our strength on defending Gayla, bringing peace to all our peoples.” Jonathan leaned forward over the podium again. “So you see, defeating the Yanum-mi is crucial to our plans. Now begins the most critical stage of our invasion.”

Jonathan straightened up and took a deep breath. As expected, whispers broke out throughout the briefing room as officers couldn’t help discussing what he had revealed. Reverus, Scott, Shraw, and Tasata-su had known what he had been planning from the beginning. When he had set off from Earth, it had been more of a dream than a certain hope. Conquering two clans was already a great success. Even if they achieved nothing else, his invasion had carved out a large buffer state. If he wanted, he could divert all of the Gal-tak and Dar’kanan Clans' economies toward fortifying their systems.

With the fortifications and ships they could build, combined with Allied fleets, the two clan territories would serve as excellent defenses to protect Earth and her allies. Any Karacknid Clan Lord—or even someone claiming to be Imperator—would have to gather a great fleet to reconquer the Gal-tak or Dar’kanan systems. As long as the Allied forces kept a close eye on the enemy, they would see an attack coming months, if not years, in advance and be ready for it, thus ensuring that whatever fighting did happen, it would take place hundreds of light-years away from any Allied world.

However, now Jonathan wanted more. He understood his enemy far better than he had when he first proposed the invasion. Outward appearances meant everything to the Karacknids. If he acted like an Imperator, fulfilled the Karacknid expectations of an Imperator, and won honor on the battlefield for himself, they could continue to accept him. Gayla and its palace were the ultimate expression of this honor system. By sitting on the Karacknid throne, he would bind all those who had sworn to him even more tightly.

It would also have the same effect on his enemies. For those who thought it sacrilegious for him to claim leadership of their people, sitting on the throne would be the ultimate blasphemy. They would never be able to contemplate attacking Earth or Kulthar as long as their homeworld was in enemy hands. We will make it the most fortified system in the galaxy, Jonathan told himself as his thoughts momentarily raced ahead. It will become a graveyard for any Karacknid fleet that tries to take it!

Suddenly, Jonathan realized that the whispering had begun to die down. Most of his officers were staring at him as he gazed at the flashing symbol representing Gayla. He quickly cleared his throat and changed the star map one final time. Two curving red arrows appeared, both starting at the two systems where Jonathan’s and Hawcrans’ fleets would soon be based, curving north into Yanum-mi territory until they met.

“The aim of our campaign against the Yanum-mi will be to destroy their fleet and kill their Clan Lord. From what General Tasata-su tells me, this is the only way we will have a good chance of pacifying the clan’s territory and bringing it under control. Both our fleet and Hawcrans’ will therefore advance north, raiding systems as we angle toward one another, driving our enemy back.”

Jonathan gestured toward Tasata-su, indicating for him to stand and speak briefly. “This strategy has been put together by General Tasata-su. Karanta-su, the Yanum-mi Clan Lord is his cousin, and though Tasata-su has spent many years outside his territory campaigning against his species’ enemies, he still knows his cousin and his clan’s territory intimately.”

“Thank you, Imperator,” Tasata-su said as he stood and turned to face the officers. “The strategy will be simple, at least initially. By advancing separately rather than waiting for the two fleets to combine, we should hopefully catch the Yanum-mi Clan forces by surprise. By now, they will know about both of our fleets and expect us to take an extra month to meet somewhere in Gal-tak space. Instead, we will go on the offensive before our enemy can. Then we will meet within Yanum-mi territory.

“However, I don’t expect our enemy to stand still and wait for us. By advancing separately, we will give the Yanum-mi an opportunity to defeat us one by one. I expect Karanta-su to rush his fleet out and position it between our two forces to prevent us from combining. Then, he can defeat us one after the other. In this way, we will draw him out and away from his most fortified worlds.” Tasata-su bowed to Jonathan and then sat down.

“It is a risky plan, I know,” Jonathan said. “But if we combine our strength immediately, the enemy will likely hide behind one of his fortified worlds. We could lose tens of thousands of ships trying to assault it. So, let us consider this in more detail now, and then we will break into smaller teams to work out the finer points.” Jonathan smiled at his officers once again. “Let’s get to work.” He then gestured for Iso to come forward and begin giving her fuller briefing on the initial plan they had put together for the advance against the Yanum-mi.

Chapter 30

Trust is hard to earn and easy to destroy.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Constitution, Urantakar system, 3rd February 2515 AD, (one week later).

Though Jonathan wanted to leave sooner, it took seven days to organize everything needed for his fleet to depart the Dar’kanan capital system. One of the biggest challenges had been selecting who would govern in Estus-san’s stead while he was with the fleet. Eventually, Tasata-su and the Dar’kanan Clan Lord reached an uneasy agreement and the official had been put in place.

The second major issue had been dividing the six thousand Dar’kanan ships that were joining the fleet going north. Four thousand of them were assigned to Tasata-su’s fleet, which came under Jonathan’s direct command. Three days ago Jonathan had dispatched them north towards Zandon eager to get them away from Urantakar. The other two thousand remained with Estus-san, who was placed under Scott’s command.

Outwardly, Estus-san said he understood that he and his people needed to earn Jonathan’s trust. After all, some of them had been part of the fleet that attacked New Shanghai and fought in the battle where Jonathan’s father had ultimately died. Still, Estus-san visibly chafed when he felt he wasn’t given the responsibility he deserved. He did however, obey every order he was given, and so far, that was enough for Jonathan.

“What are you thinking about?” Scott asked Jonathan as they both sat on Constitution’s bridge, waiting for the final word that the fleet was ready to depart.

“Estus-san,” Jonathan admitted. “He still concerns me.”

Scott nodded. “Along with everyone else in the fleet.”

Jonathan grunted. “That’s encouraging.”

Scott smiled. “I thought it was my job to agree with you, Admiral.” Jonathan gave her a stern look. “Alright, how about this then. So far, the Gal-tak warriors that have joined our side have fought admirably. Their training and out-of-the-box thinking aren’t up to the standards of the rest of the fleet, but they are improving. So, can we not at least hope the Dar’kanans can do the same? Their training standards are certainly improving.”

Jonathan grunted again. That wouldn’t be very hard, he thought, though he kept the remark to himself. While he had only discussed it openly with his most senior commanders, it was clear that Estus-san’s fleet was the worst-trained they had encountered within the Karacknid Empire. The officers and warriors could carry out the most basic commands efficiently, but as soon as they were taken outside their comfort zone, their capabilities dropped off dramatically. Jonathan had tasked his and Scott’s staff officers to design a series of live-fire and simulated drills for the Dar’kanans to work on. While they were improving, they were still far from ideal.

“Well, if that doesn’t satisfy you, all I can leave you with are your own words,” Scott said. “The Karacknids put honor above all else, especially honor in battle. That’s the foundation of this whole campaign. Every officer fighting with us has sworn to fight for you. There’s not much more reassurance we can get than that. And of course as you well know, we’ll all be keeping a very close eye on them.”

Jonathan nodded. He was being too pessimistic. "I’ve had too much free time on my hands these last few days. I’m not used to it."

Scott smiled again. "You’re just brooding. And if you think the last few days have been bad, try the twenty years before the Karacknids attacked us again."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at that. He had never looked at it that way. His father and Scott had fought a vicious war with the Karacknids. They had seen firsthand how ruthless the Karacknids could be. Then, they had twenty years to imagine what horrors awaited them and Humanity the next time their enemy attacked. Jonathan knew neither his father nor Scott had been idle in those twenty years—far from it! But they must have had many moments when they got lost in their worries. Jonathan was sure of that.

His mood lifted a little, and he drew Scott and Georgia into some idle conversation as they waited. As reports began coming in from the various elements of his fleet, signaling they were ready to break orbit, Jonathan’s excitement began to grow.

The last fleet to report ready was Estus-san’s. "The Dar’kanan ships have signaled—they are ready to break orbit," Rossi informed Jonathan. "That’s everyone."

"Then let us depart," Jonathan said. He took one last look at Urantakar, feeling more than happy to leave the Karacknid world behind. Then he watched as the various elements of his fleet broke orbit in perfect order. Having sent Shraw and Tasata-su ahead to Zandon, only twenty thousand warships remained with Constitution. Still, it was an impressive fleet. Jonathan observed the beauty of the coordinated movement of so many vessels for several minutes. Then he turned his mind towards what was to come.

*

IS Constitution, Zandon system, 19th February 2515 AD, (sixteen days later).

Moments after Constitution completed its journey to the Zandon system by jumping out of shift space, Jonathan smiled. A very familiar ship was already in orbit around the planet they had chosen to construct their FOB. Imperial was waiting for him. Jonathan glanced at Georgia, Iso, Harte, and Rossi, and they all shared smiles, eager to return to the ship they considered home.

During the three-hour journey into the inner system towards the rapidly growing FOB, Jonathan had a mountain of reports to go through. He also spent some time observing the various elements of his fleet. Alongside Imperial, one thousand of the ships that had been damaged in the battle with Ozek’wa had rejoined him. Each and every one of them still carried battle scars, but overall, they looked ready for action. An additional twelve hundred freshly constructed warships from all the Allied species had also arrived at Sadarson and traveled to Zandon with Imperial. All of them contained fresh names and faces of officers that Jonathan would have to memorize.

"Well, let me say, it has been a pleasure," Jonathan said when Constitution began to slot into orbit around the FOB. He spoke loudly as he looked around at Constitution’s bridge officers. "Admiral Scott, your flagship and your fleet have done you proud."

"It has been an honor to have you among us, Admiral," Scott said. "Though I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Imperial. We’ll miss you."

Jonathan laughed. "I'm not so sure about that." He gestured at the bridge officers, who were all watching him and Scott. "It's bad enough having one Admiral looking over your shoulder, but two—and one of them your Emperor, no less." He flashed a smile at the officers. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be keen to see me go."

"Well then, in that case, it's been a pleasure to have you, and it'll be a pleasure to see you go," Scott said with an innocent smile. "Is that more appropriate, Emperor?"

Jonathan stood and walked over to Scott's command chair. She immediately jumped to her feet. He held out his hand and shook hers formally. "It's a good thing you're such a competent commander, Admiral. Encouraging insubordination in front of junior officers would normally be a career-ending move." As he let go of her hand, he gave Scott a wink. "I suppose in this case, I'll let you off. But next time I have a deadly mission in need of a fleet, I know who I'll be asking."

More than one officer chuckled at Jonathan's light-hearted threat. They all knew it was harmless. Or rather, they knew that with Scott as their commander, they'd be assigned the most difficult missions anyway, not as a punishment. They were well aware of how skilled their commander was.

"We'll always be ready to serve you, Admiral," Scott said, her tone turning more serious. She gestured at her officers. "We haven't let you down yet, and we don’t intend to start."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Jonathan said slowly as he looked around at the officers. "Very well, then," he said as he gave them a salute, and every officer's hand quickly snapped up to their forehead. Jonathan turned back to Scott and gave her a nod. "I'm sure we'll be speaking again soon, Admiral." He gave her one last smile, then gestured for his officers to follow him as he left the bridge.

Though Constitution had been his home for only a couple of months, Jonathan felt a tinge of sadness as he left the bridge. Every ship he commanded, even for a short time, became special. Still, his excitement at returning to Imperial far outweighed any sadness, and soon enough, Constitution left his thoughts as other, more pressing matters took over.

*

As soon as Jonathan set foot back in Imperial's main hangar, he felt at home. Though the sounds and smells were similar to Constitution, they were different enough for him to immediately tell the difference.

Only one man stood waiting for him. Captain Matthis knew how much Jonathan hated pomp and ceremony. Jonathan smiled at his friend and held out his hand. "It's good to see you, Captain."

"And even better to see you, Admiral. Welcome back on board," Matthis said as they shook hands firmly. Matthis then greeted Georgia, Iso, Harte, and Rossi. "It hasn't been the same without you all. Though from the sounds of it, you've been having a lot of fun without us." He then winked at Georgia. "I hear you scared a Clan Lord into surrendering!"

"I wouldn’t put it exactly like that," Georgia said. "But you can ask him yourself if you're brave enough."

Matthis shook his head. "There's no chance of that. I know how touchy they can be. I'm just happy he surrendered."

“How is she?” Jonathan asked as he looked around the hangar.

“Almost as good as new,” Matthis answered. He then gestured towards the hangar’s main hatch. “Shall we walk and talk?”

“Let’s,” Jonathan responded, falling into step beside Matthis.

“So, offensively, we are back to full strength,” Matthis explained. “Our engines, reactors, and power transfer lines are all operating at full capacity as well. Defensively, though, we haven’t been able to get her back to one hundred percent. But we’re very close. We’ve replaced all the sensor nodes and defensive weapons we lost, and we’ve had no problem sourcing enough valstronium to restore all the armor that was burnt off.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Jonathan asked, a little confused.

“Several internal bulkheads are not one hundred percent structurally sound. My chief engineer assures me they’ll hold up to all but the most vigorous maneuvers, but ideally, they need to be replaced. For that, we’d have to return to an Imperial shipyard, strip off the armor, remove the bulkheads, and install new ones.”

Jonathan pressed his lips together. That would take eight months or longer. “What damage did they suffer?”

“Laser beams sliced three of them almost in half,” Matthis said. “We’ve patched them as best we can. The strength tests we ran suggest they have at least ninety-six percent of their original strength.”

“But Imperial can’t be pushed to the extreme limits she could handle before,” Jonathan guessed.

Matthis nodded. “We’ve adjusted the safeties on our engines, and our pilot has been practicing for weeks with the new parameters. In simulated battles, it’s only reduced our evasiveness by eight percent.”

Jonathan nodded. It wasn’t ideal, especially since that eight percent could mean the difference between surviving a salvo from a Clan Lord’s dreadnought or not. Yet, apart from a Kulrean worldship, Imperial was still the strongest warship in the fleet. “Well, you and your crew have done an excellent job getting her repaired so quickly,” Jonathan said. “It’s good to be back.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure the crew knows your sentiments,” Matthis responded.

When they got to the bridge, Jonathan greeted everyone and then made his way to his command chair. As expected, he had a long list of reports to read and sign off on. For a minute or so, he pretended to look at them. Then, when everyone had gone back to their own work, he took a moment to just look around the bridge and enjoy the familiar sights and sounds. It was good to be back. After letting out a deep breath and rolling his shoulders, he turned back to his reports. He began to skim over the most important ones, ensuring there was nothing that needed his immediate attention.

Satisfied they could all wait a little while; he turned his mind to other matters. First, he checked on the fleet that had arrived with Constitution. Scott and Iso already had the warships joining up with the supply freighters from Sadarson as they topped up their fuel supplies. “Hail Shraw and Tasata-su,” Jonathan requested, turning to Rossi.

“Commanders,” Jonathan said, giving the holographic images of his officers a small bow. “It is good to see you both again. So tell me, how is the FOB developing?”

“Admiral, it is good to have you back leading us,” Shraw said, bowing.

Tasata-su mirrored the gesture. “Imperator, welcome to Zandon.” The Karacknid General then gestured to Shraw to answer Jonathan’s question.

“Progress is going well,” Shraw said. “Several small Dar’kanan orbital stations have already been retrofitted, and others will be finished within a week. By the time the next resupply convoy arrives, the stations will be ready to offload and oversee the transfer of supplies to our fleet supply chain.”

Jonathan nodded. Incorporated into his fleet he had thousands of fast freighters capable of keeping up with his warships, but they had small capacities and were expensive to build. Much larger freighters were used to bring fuel and munitions from Earth to stock up the supply bases that his fast freighters then shuttled back and forth from.

“It will take at least another month for the first defense stations to come online,” Shraw continued. “So we will need to keep a sizable garrison here to defend our supplies, but that was expected.”

“And what about your ships, are they ready to depart?” Jonathan asked.

“They are,” Shraw confirmed.

“We are eager to do so,” Tasata-su added.

Jonathan had no doubts about that. Almost from the first time he had mentioned invading the Karacknid Empire to Tasata-su, the General had emphasized the need to invade his clan’s space. Over thirty years ago, Tasata-su had put himself forward to become his clan’s next Lord after their previous Lord died without an heir. Tasata-su had been passed over in favor of the current Lord. It was clear the General wanted revenge.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jonathan said to Tasata-su. “I hope to begin dispatching screening fleets north before the end of the day. Once my fleet has fully resupplied, we’ll be on the move too.”

Tasata-su smiled, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. “Then we will soon be in battle once again. Have you settled on an initial strategy?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not yet. I need to go over the latest intel from our scouts, and then we will decide together.”

Shraw nodded. “We’ve already transferred everything over to Imperial, along with our assessments.”

“I’m aware,” Jonathan said. “Those reports are next on my list. I just wanted to check in with you first.”

“Then we won’t take any more of your time, Imperator,” Tasata-su said.

“I guess not,” Jonathan replied as he suppressed a smile. Tasata-su was eager. Jonathan nodded to both officers and then cut the COM channels. “Matthis, Iso, Harte, and Georgia, with me,” he said, standing. He gestured toward where Tasata-su’s image had been. “You heard him, we have scout reports to go over.”

“Yes, sir,” Iso said, quickly jumping to her feet.

“We’ll review them and then call a senior commanders' conference,” Jonathan explained as he led his officers off the bridge and into his office. “By then, I want to have selected one of our initial strategies. I want our forces moving north before the end of the day.”

Weeks ago, Jonathan had sent hundreds of scouting ships north into the Yanum-mi Clan’s territory to assess their defenses. His initial moves would depend on where the enemy was weakest. But he knew that sooner or later, they would have to face the bulk of the Yanum-mi fleet. But only once we join up with Hawcrans, Jonathan assured himself. Until then he had no intention of committing his forces against the Yanum-mi.

*

After four hours of meetings with his staff officers and then his senior commanders, Jonathan finally felt his team had a firm plan put together. While he left them all to begin the necessary preparations, he slipped away to his quarters. He smiled as he saw a steaming cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table beside his favorite chair – one Becca had picked out for him. His steward had guessed he would show up sooner or later. With a sigh of pleasure, Jonathan sat down in the deep chair and allowed it to engulf him. This was the one place on Imperial where he felt he could fully relax.

He wasn’t ready to unwind just yet, however. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his tunic and pulled out his personal datapad. Alongside all the scouting and fleet readiness reports, Imperial had brought a fresh batch of letters from Earth. With Becca now just six weeks from giving birth, Jonathan felt himself growing more nervous by the day.

Pulling up the letters, he saw there were four. Immediately, he opened the most recent one – marked from two months ago. Within seconds, he felt a measure of relief as he scanned through the various mundane things Becca had shared with him. No exciting news was exactly what he wanted. Everything was progressing as planned.

That said, Jonathan’s worry was far from dissipated. Becca’s latest letter was two months out of date. Anything could have happened in that time, he couldn’t help but think. Stop it, he told himself sternly. Logically, he knew there was nothing to gain from worrying about hypothetical situations. He had long since mastered doing that when it came to fighting a war. It was far harder when it came to his own family, though. She will be fine. Everything will be fine, he reassured himself.

In an effort to fix his mind on more positive things, he opened the oldest letter from Becca and began to read more thoroughly. For half an hour, he read his wife’s letters, then the ones from his mother. When he was done, he composed letters back to each of them. He kept the military details to a minimum, certain that they would both be reading the strategic reports constantly being sent back to Earth. Instead, he told them how he was doing and about his hopes and dreams for the future.

By the time he was done, Jonathan felt refreshed. His worry was still there, of course. But as they always did, his family’s letters reminded of why he fought. Now, he said to himself as he took one last sip of his tea, it is time to get the fleet moving once again!

Chapter 31

The Yanum-mi Clan was one of the most powerful within the Karacknid Empire despite their losses during Tanaka-lan’s attempted invasion of Earth. To go after them was a high-risk, high-reward strategy, especially trying to do it the way Somerville attempted.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Supernova, Nuevae System, 5th March 2515 AD, (two weeks later).

Having sent scouts ahead of his powerful squadron, O’Kane didn’t hesitate to jump his ships into the Nuevae system. As soon as his squadron reverted to real space, they went to full power and charged their targets.

The Nuevae system was home to a mid-sized Yanum-mi supply hub. According to Tasata-su’s intel, it served as a key relay base between the Yanum-mi’s southern systems and its capital. While Admiral Somerville and the main Allied fleet fought their way through the small fleets the Yanum-mi had on their border, O’Kane and several other squadrons had been tasked with taking out bases deeper within Yanum-mi territory. Their goal was to disrupt the Yanum-mi Clan’s lines of communication and supply capabilities. Jonathan had made it clear to O’Kane that if and when the Yanum-mi’s main fleet moved south, he didn’t want them knowing what was happening around them.

To accomplish this, O’Kane had snuck through four enemy systems to reach his target. Now he threw caution to the wind as he charged into the system. Whether taken by surprise at the sudden attack or simply biding their time to determine the best response, the Yanum-mi were slow to act. For ten minutes, nothing happened. Then six fast frigates broke away from the nine hundred warships defending the base, splitting into two groups, they raced towards the system’s two northernmost shift passages.

O’Kane glanced at the passenger who had shared the two-week journey with him. Georgia nodded. “Dispatching squadrons now,” she said. Seconds later, sixty of the fighters that had already launched from their pocket carriers shot ahead of O’Kane’s squadron. They would burn up the vast majority of their fuel as they chased after the frigates, but they would catch them. If O’Kane and Georgia could make it happen, they wanted no word of their attack reaching the north.

In response to the fighters, four destroyers began to break orbit on a heading northward. Without waiting for permission, Georgia dispatched more squadrons after them. “They’ll send their own fighters soon,” Georgia said.

O’Kane and Georgia had discussed the possibility in depth. “Go,” was all he needed to say.

Immediately, Georgia was out of her command chair and off the bridge. Just over a minute later, her fighter launched and joined up with her wing. In that time, four more destroyers had left the supply base, and again, more of Georgia’s fighters moved to intercept them. Then, Georgia’s prediction came true.

Alarms on Supernova’s bridge suddenly went off as sensors detected the entire Yanum-mi garrison beginning to mobilize. Hundreds of smaller contacts also appeared. An attack wing of seven hundred fighters was racing out to intercept the squadrons Georgia had dispatched. She reacted at once. Half of her sixteen hundred fighters moved to engage the enemy fighters, and O’Kane wasn’t surprised to see her leading them herself. What did surprise him was the heading the Karacknid warships were settling onto. They were heading north!

“They’re abandoning the base,” O’Kane’s tactical officer observed.

“Not what we expected,” O’Kane said. Normally, a Karacknid force tasked with defending an important piece of infrastructure fought and died at their posts.

“The Yanum-mi Clan Lord could have standing orders for his forces to fall back when outnumbered,” O’Kane’s Chief of Staff suggested.

O’Kane nodded. It was possible. If so, it would make Admiral Somerville’s attacks more difficult. It would also mean that in the coming days and weeks there would be various Yanum-mi squadrons streaming north from the border systems, past his squadron’s position. Right now, though, it didn’t matter. With fifty-four battleships and dreadnoughts in the enemy squadron, they couldn’t escape O’Kane’s fast squadron. The largest ships in his formation were battlecruisers like Supernova, and they easily outpaced the Karacknids.

“We’ll ignore the base for now,” O’Kane ordered. “Alter course to intercept the enemy squadron. Let’s take them out before they can jump to shift space.”

As his squadron set off in hot pursuit, O’Kane watched Georgia’s fighters smash into the enemy squadrons that had tried to intercept her lead squadrons. The fight was brief. With a savagery that only came from hardened battle experience, they cut the outnumbered Karacknids apart. Over the next hour, Georgia’s lead squadrons were then able to hunt down the frigates and destroyers the Yanum-mi force had sent racing north. Every one was destroyed.

Next, O’Kane’s warships brought the main Yanum-mi squadron into range. The Yanum-mi flung their remaining fighters at O’Kane’s squadron, but the fighters Georgia had left behind easily swatted them aside. Then the missiles began to fly.

With fourteen hundred ships in his squadron, O’Kane had a significant advantage in numbers and firepower. The first salvo turned the battle further in O’Kane’s favor. Having received a fresh delivery of Shadow and Whirlwind missiles and permission to use them, O’Kane committed half his stock to the first salvo. The stealthy bomblets and miniature black hole warheads ravaged the Yanum-mi force.

Their ordeal wasn’t over with just the surprise missiles. Georgia’s surviving fighters from her interception of the main Yanum-mi fighter force had looped around behind the enemy squadron. They charged in just as the final missiles exploded. As the fighters set upon their enemy, O’Kane wasn’t the least surprised to see Georgia’s Talon slice a Yanum-mi battleship in half with its grazer cannon.

In total, two hundred and sixty Yanum-mi ships were destroyed in the first salvo. With a third of their force gone, their demise was guaranteed. Yet the Karacknids had managed to fire four salvos before they suffered any losses, and the survivors still put up a strong fight. It took over an hour for O’Kane’s ships to batter all the Yanum-mi ships into debris. One hundred and thirty-five Allied ships were lost in that time, with almost as many again badly damaged.

In the time it took Georgia’s fighters to land on their carriers and for her to rejoin O’Kane on Supernova’s bridge, O’Kane and his officers had reorganized their fleet. “Well fought, Wing Commander,” O’Kane said to Georgia as she moved to her command chair.

“Thank you,” Georgia said with a nod. She glanced at the small group of damaged ships heading south. “Will they be okay?”

“I’ve given them strict orders to keep themselves hidden,” O’Kane said. “I’ve also assigned six scout frigates to probe ahead of them. At the first sign of Yanum-mi forces moving north, they’re to hide until elements of your brother’s fleet reach them.”

"I'm sure they'll be just fine then," Georgia responded, her gaze shifting from the small group of ships to the system's northern shift passages. She then glanced back at O'Kane, a gleam in her eyes. "Shall we continue?"

O'Kane grinned. "We certainly shall!" They had destroyed their first objective, but Georgia’s brother had assigned three Yanum-mi bases they needed to hit. “Navigation, set course for the northeastern shift passage,” O’Kane ordered eagerly.

*

14th March 2515 AD, (nine days later).

He’s a sneaky one, Georgia admitted to herself, not for the first time. She was thinking of O’Kane. He was the reason for the view she was now enjoying. Outside her cockpit, like a waterfall effect, a steady stream of ice and rock chunks zipped past. They were so thick Georgia could hardly see through them. It was beautiful, though. The comet Georgia’s Talon was tucked under was hurtling toward the system’s star at an impressive rate. The heat from the star was slowly melting the comet, and the sunlight glinting off the twisting and spinning ice chunks created a dazzling blue and grey scene.

The only other color Georgia could see was the black-tan of the underside of Hercules, the battlecruiser her four squadrons were using as cover. Even with shields, Georgia’s fighters would be instantly pummeled to debris by the chunks of ice and rock coming off the comet. Hercules’ thick valstronium armor had no such problems. It had been O’Kane’s idea to hide the warship right in the middle of the comet’s tail, tucking Georgia’s fighters underneath for protection.

Now, they were just waiting. A day ago, O’Kane had led a small force of seventy ships to raid a system adjacent to their final objective. He had promised Georgia he would cause as much havoc as possible and then get out of there the minute any ships from the supply base—their objective—showed up, leading them right to Georgia. That was the plan at least, and given how well things had gone over the last week, Georgia was confident. Even if she wasn’t enjoying the wait.

Left alone with her thoughts, she also had to admit O’Kane was growing on her. They were kindred spirits. Away from the large and relatively slow-moving main Allied fleet, the two of them had been tearing through Yanum-mi space. Since their first battle together, they had destroyed a second Yanum-mi supply base, intercepted and captured a large supply convoy, and raided two other systems. At the same time, they had dispatched smaller flotillas to hit several nearby systems. While they had strict orders not to let their main force be seen, Jonathan wanted hundreds of reports of small Allied formations moving about in the southern Yanum-mi systems to reach the Yanum-mi Clan Lord. O’Kane and Georgia were certainly doing their part.

And there’s more to come, Georgia thought eagerly, if they’d just hurry up and get here. With her sensors obscured by the thick ice and rock, her Talon was blind to what was going on beyond the comet’s tail. Hercules at least had a towed stealth recon drone trailing behind just outside the comet’s tail, so the battlecruiser was meant to be keeping Georgia informed. But they also had to keep radio silence, so she knew nothing about what was happening beyond the steady stream of rock and ice flying past her canopy. For several more hours, Georgia waited. Though she was used to spending long periods of time in the cockpit of her fighter, she was slowly running out of ways to distract herself.

Once boredom set in, it didn’t take long for Georgia's eyes to start drooping. Just as her head bobbed over for the first time, something jolted her awake. Her eyes snapped open. Something was flashing! It took a second for her mind to clear, and then she knew what she was seeing. One of Hercules’ running lights was flashing in Morse code.

Enemy spotted. One hundred.

Instantly Georgia was fully awake The message was brief, but Georgia understood it perfectly. The Yanum-mi squadron was just one hundred minutes away. Tapping on her control console, Georgia carried out a quick systems check, then began to visualize what was to come. In her mind, she ran through a host of evasive maneuvers, each one flowing perfectly into the next. Time, which had seemed to drag agonizingly slowly, now sped up dramatically.

Before Georgia knew it, Hercules was flashing again to inform her she had just five minutes. She sat up in her cockpit and looked over at the nearest fighters arrayed around her Talon. She held up a thumb to the pilots she could see; they all returned the gesture, then sent it down the chain of fighters huddled under Hercules for protection.

The next flashes from the battlecruiser indicated that the attack was beginning. Gently, Georgia took hold of her flight stick, and as Hercules began to move through the comet’s tail, she followed. For several seconds, she had the surreal sensation of flying into the teeth of a vast waterfall of ice. Then Hercules’ nose poked out of the comet’s tail, coming to a stop relative to the comet.

With Hercules’ nose blocking any chunks of ice and rock from blinding Georgia’s Talon, her passive sensors immediately began to pick up the action around her. Her small screen quickly filled with contacts. Within seconds, the nearest ones turned red: three hundred and twenty Yanum-mi warships were racing past the comet, but none had their active sensors directed toward her. Other Allied forces had their attention.

Ahead of the Yanum-mi squadron, seventy-six Allied warships were in the process of turning towards them. O’Kane’s small force had just stopped running and was preparing to give battle. The reason for the sudden change was the five hundred fighters racing toward the Yanum-mi fleet from a distant asteroid field. Georgia knew their carriers were hiding in there. The fighter force was angling to hit the Yanum-mi ships before O’Kane’s came into range. The plan was for them to cripple the Yanum-mi force so that O’Kane could finish them off with relative ease.

At least, that’s what it no doubt looked like to the Yanum-mi commander. Yet sending five hundred fighters to attack over three hundred Karacknid warships would usually be a bloodbath for Allied pilots. That was where Georgia’s crack force came in. She had fifty of the best Eaglaton and Varanni pilots in the fleet. All were veterans of many battles, and all flew fighters equipped with laser or grazer cannons.

Georgia waited as she assessed the situation. The Allied fighter wing was just four minutes from entering point-defense range of the Yanum-mi. She cut it as close as she could. When they were two and a half minutes out, just as the Yanum-mi squadron was passing behind the comet’s tail, she charged.

“All fighters, with me!” she ordered, breaking radio silence.

Thrusting her throttle forward, Georgia's Talon shot out from under Hercules’ protection, emerging from the comet’s tail a moment later. She immediately banked around to intercept the Yanum-mi squadron. Within seconds, Karacknid active sensors spun around toward this new threat, with point-defense weapons quickly following. It was too late, however. The Yanum-mi squadron’s formation was lined up to receive the larger Allied fighter wing, leaving far too few sensors and weapons to counter Georgia’s fighters. And her pilots were good.

Within twenty seconds of emerging from the comet’s tail, Georgia’s Talon came into range of the nearest enemy warships. As they opened up on her with what weapons they could, she had already settled into her hyper-focused state. Around her, other fighters began to be shot down, small fiery explosions flaring in her peripheral vision. Yet no laser beams came close to her. Just seconds later, she brought her grazer beam within range of her selected target: one of the four dreadnoughts in the Yanum-mi fleet. Lining up her shot, she matched the massive warship’s evasive maneuvers and fired.

At the exact same moment, one of her wingmates fired as well. Their two grazer beams lanced into the enemy capital ship, blowing it apart. Similar explosions erupted throughout the heart of the enemy squadron as Georgia’s pilots targeted additional capital ships.

Pulling her fighter up and away from the enemy formation, she dodged beams of angry defensive fire from the surviving Yanum-mi ships. Yet their attacks quickly diminished, for the much larger Allied fighter wing was about to strike. Georgia quickly checked on her pilots and saw that thirty-eight were still with her, just as the larger Allied wing began its attack run.

With many of the Yanum-mi capital ships gone and their formation disrupted, the defensive fire that reached out toward the five hundred Allied fighters was only about two-thirds of what it should have been. Worse, it was nowhere near as coordinated or accurate as usual. Allied pilots still died in ones and twos, then in fives and tens as they closed in. But then the fighters with laser and grazer cannons fired. Explosions erupted for a second time, ripping into the dense cluster of Yanum-mi capital ships at the heart of their formation.

Fearlessly, the remaining Allied pilots, all Human and Vestarian, charged forward until they could fire their missiles. Six hundred antimatter warheads were launched at almost point-blank range. The Yanum-mi ships had just six seconds to shoot them down and managed to intercept only half. Antimatter blooms engulfed the Yanum-mi squadron, momentarily blinding Georgia’s Talon.

Many of the missiles missed or only managed proximity hits, yet enough struck home. "Yes!" Georgia shouted when the antimatter dissipated. Fewer than a hundred enemy ships remained intact, and many of those were badly damaged. Their formation and cohesion were in disarray. Some undamaged ships were still charging toward O’Kane’s ships, others had lost almost all acceleration, and still others were spinning out of control.

While Georgia regrouped her pilots and the survivors of the larger Allied wing, O’Kane moved in for the kill. Unlike the Yanum-mi, his small squadron was a model of precision. Every ship moved in sync, and when their weapons fired, they did so as one. In a series of coordinated barrages, O’Kane tore through the remaining Yanum-mi ships. Starting with the warships closest to him, he overwhelmed their defenses with successive salvos, delivering antimatter warheads with devastating effect.

The Yanum-mi tried desperately to fight back, but they couldn’t coordinate their missile salvos. This allowed O’Kane’s ships to easily swat away most of the scattered missile groups that came their way. With their ships spread out, the Yanum-mi also failed to create overlapping fields of fire. In small groups of five or six, they attempted to defend themselves, but each effort fell short. In just half an hour, Georgia watched as O’Kane eliminated all of the Yanum-mi ships, losing only six of his own in the process.

Georgia nodded, impressed by O’Kane’s efficiency. Now we take their comrades, she thought. The three hundred and thirty warships O’Kane had lured out of position had come from a nearby fleet base, constituting over half of its garrison. With them gone, the base would now be easy pickings for O’Kane’s squadron.

As if her thoughts had summoned them, over a thousand Allied warships began to emerge from one of the system’s outer asteroid fields. Georgia turned the nose of her Talon toward them and led her pilots back to their carriers. There was more work for them to do.

Chapter 32

Everyone who holds their firstborn child in their arms for the first time cannot help but be forever changed.

—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Imperial Palace, Earth, 15th March 2515 AD, (one day later).

“Here you go, Empress. These are the last ones,” one of Becca’s aides said as she set a small stack of papers in front of her.

“Military Funding Bill Seventy-Two is in here?” Becca asked wearily. She had been reading reports and signing orders for nearly three hours now.

“It is, Empress. We received it from the House of Servants just an hour ago,” the aide replied.

“Finally,” Becca responded, flicking through the papers and pulling the bill to the front.

Enjoying a rare moment of satisfaction, she signed the paper document, giving her approval to the bill. It had taken over a month to wrangle the latest Military Funding Bill out of the three Houses of Parliament. Every year, the three Houses approved a general military budget for the Navy and Army, but if either branch of the military needed anything above and beyond their budget, it had to go to the three Houses again as a separate bill. Becca understood the need to keep clear oversight on the Empire’s military spending, but it was a very tedious task.

But one worth every minute spent on it! Becca told herself as she handed the bill over to her aide. The paper version would go into the archives for safekeeping, but her signature would immediately release the funds to go where they were needed. Which meant they would go towards getting more reinforcements to her husband. The latest news Becca had was that Jonathan had conquered the Gal-tak Clan, but that was at least a month out of date. By now, she knew he could be anywhere within the Karacknid Empire.

“But wherever he is, he needs everything we can send him, doesn’t he?” Becca asked her belly as she reached down and rubbed it. She was now just three weeks from her due date, and she couldn’t help talking to the small, kicking baby that seemed like it was constantly rolling around within her.

For another hour, Becca lost herself in her work, continuing to rub her belly with one hand while signing papers and reading over the ever-growing pile of reports with the other.

Then her COM unit beeped. “Empress, are you ready for your next meeting?” her secretary asked.

“Meeting? Really? Is it that time already?” Becca said after letting out a weary sigh.

“Yes, Empress. You were scheduled to meet Andrea Clements fifteen minutes ago.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Fifteen minutes?” Her eyes darted to one of her datapads, which was slowly flashing at her, showing her schedule and alerting her that she was late. Somehow, she had missed it. “I’m ready now. Show her in,” Becca said as she hastily tried to organize the papers and datapads on her desk.

“Yes, Empress,” the secretary replied.

Moments later, Becca jumped to her feet as Andrea came in. Or at least, she tried. Her belly bumped into her desk, and she nearly lost her balance and fell back into her seat. Her lightning-quick special forces marine reflexes allowed her to grab the desk and steady herself. She took a breath to steady herself, then looked up to her guest.

“I’m so sorry for making you wait, Andrea. I lost track of time,” Becca said as she came around her desk to shake Andrea’s hand.

“There’s no need to get up, Empress,” Andrea said as she entered the office. “You should be resting as much as you can.”

Becca waved at the papers on her desk. “It’s not standing I need a rest from! Now please, come and sit. What is it I can do for you?”

Andrea sat and waited patiently as Becca maneuvered herself back into her seat. Then her face turned serious. “You’re not going to like this, but I need another Military Funding Bill.”

“Another one? So soon?” Becca gasped. She then fought to control herself. “I’m sorry. Of course you do. We’ll get you and Jonathan whatever you need.”

A worried look passed over Andrea’s face. “If it’s too much right now, I can speak to Christine first and let her know the finer details of what I’m after. Then she could bring you a more general report.”

Becca felt embarrassed and cross with herself. She was a pregnant marine, not an invalid. She didn’t need Andrea’s pity. “There’s no need. You’re here now, and I’m more than capable of handling it. So tell me, what are you thinking?”

Andrea stared at Becca for a couple of seconds, then slowly nodded. “All right, then.” After taking a deep breath, she launched into her list of requests.

Quickly, Becca realized Andrea was far more familiar than she was with the losses and subsequent needs of Jonathan’s fleet. She felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. Yes, it was Andrea’s primary job to oversee the invasion force’s steady stream of supplies and reinforcements, but the final responsibility stopped with her. And it was her husband out there.

For half an hour, Andrea covered a myriad of things, including the construction and supply of different ship types, design changes to a specific missile’s warhead, and the diversion of over a thousand freighters from internal logistics missions within the Empire to working routes that ran north through The Wilds and into Gal-tak Clan space. By the time they were done, Becca’s fingers were sore from frantically taking notes, and her head was ringing.

“All right, I think I understand what you’re looking for,” Becca finally said. A lot of what Andrea wanted could be covered within the current year’s military budget by redirecting funds, but some of her projects would require individual funding. “I’ll go over your report’s finer details, and then we can set up a meeting with the Admirals. After that, we’ll need to get the heads of the parties involved. They won’t be happy with the idea of trying to push through another funding bill so soon, but the sooner we begin working on them, the better.”

“I know it’s a lot I’m asking of you,” Andrea said. “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“And Jonathan put you in charge because he knew you were the best person for the job,” Becca replied. “So if you think it’s what he needs, then it’s what we have to get done.” This time, as she stood, Becca took a little more care and successfully rose from her seat without bumping anything. “Thank you for coming,” she said as she held out a hand to Andrea. “I’ll make some initial moves to get the ball rolling on this, but it will have to start out slow, or I fear I’ll have a hundred Representatives or Senators banging on my door to complain.”

“I completely understand,” Andrea said as she rose and shook Becca’s hand. “I’m very glad the politics of all this falls on your and Christine’s shoulders.”

“I bet you are,” Becca replied, forcing a smile. “Now,” she continued, glancing at one of her datapads, which was flashing at her, “I still have a host of other meetings to get through today.”

“Of course, I understand,” Andrea said quickly. Then a look of concern crossed her face. “But you don’t need to overdo it, you know. No one expects you to do everything, not with the birth coming up so soon.”

“I know,” Becca said, waving away Andrea’s concern. “But it’s my husband out there. I need to make sure he’s getting every ounce of support he needs.”

For a moment, Andrea looked like she was going to argue the point, but then she thought better of it, smiled at Becca, and turned to leave.

Becca sat back down in her seat with a sigh. She gave herself a moment to compose herself, then pulled the nearest datapad toward her and began working through the reports on it.

In what felt like no time at all, her COM unit beeped. “Sorry to disturb you, Empress,” her secretary said. “But they’re all here now. They’re just waiting for you.”

“Wh…” Becca started to ask, then cut herself off. Whatever it was, she was supposed to already know! Quickly, she pulled up the datapad with her schedule and looked it over. Immediately, she had to bite back a curse. She had forgotten about another key meeting. The Senate Infrastructure Committee had come to brief her on the expansion of Earth’s civilian shipyards and private freighter fleets. Since the war with the Karacknids had started, her government had been subsidizing a great deal of private construction.

“All right, I’ll be right in,” Becca said wearily.

*

Twenty minutes later, Becca’s head slipped off her hand where she had been resting it. The sudden jerk startled her; she had almost fallen asleep. Quickly, she tried to recall what the senator who was speaking had been saying, but she couldn’t. In an effort to maintain composure, she kept her facial features smooth, nodding and pretending she was following the conversation while desperately trying to piece together what had been discussed.

She was so focused on trying to make sense of the fragments she had heard that an interjection from another senator completely caught her off guard. At first, she didn’t even register it.

“Excuse me for butting in, Empress, but all this talk of expanded private munitions works has me concerned,” the senator said. “Our funding is far from unlimited. Now I’m hearing about another Military Funding Bill that might be in the works. But we just passed the last one yesterday. How long can we keep going like this?”

Everyone around the conference table turned toward Becca. For a second, she didn’t realize they were waiting for her. Then it hit her – no one else was speaking. Her eyes widened as she looked around to see who had spoken last. “I’m sorry, what was that, Senator?” she asked.

“I was saying, how are we going to find the political will to pay for additional civilian munitions factories and push for another Military Funding Bill to be passed?”

“Another Military Funding Bill?” Becca repeated, her voice rising as she jumped to her feet. “Who told you about that? No, it doesn’t matter. I just spoke to Andrea Clements earlier today. Nothing has been decided yet.”

“But wait, you are considering moving ahead with another one so soon?” another Senator asked quietly.

“They are clearly discussing it,” a third Senator pointed out.

“We’re only discussing possibilities,” Becca insisted, glancing around at the Senators. The looks on their faces told her she was losing control of the situation. “I haven’t even spoken to Christine about Andrea’s requests.”

“But she has made requests then?” a fourth senator said. “And we all know that what Andrea and the fleet request, we have to somehow find a way to provide – no matter the cost to our constituents or our political careers.”

As Becca looked around at the senators, she quickly started to feel overwhelmed. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the sudden barrage of questions. Then she began to feel lightheaded too. The room around her started to spin. “Are you alright, Empress?” a concerned voice asked. Becca barely heard it. Suddenly, it felt like she was having trouble breathing. Quickly, she took three deep gulps, but none seemed to fill her lungs. Panic set in. Eyes bulging, Becca looked around for help as she desperately tried to suck in air.

Senators rushed to her side while others called out loudly for help. Becca was only vaguely aware of their actions as her vision grew hazy. Blackness crept in around her peripheral vision.

Before she realized what was happening, she blacked out and collapsed on top of the table. As her legs gave way, she slid backward across the table. Hands quickly reached out and caught her, gently lowering her to the floor.

For a few seconds, Becca lay still. Then her eyes fluttered open. Immediately, the panic returned. Yet this time, as she tried to breathe, she found air filling her lungs. Instinctively, she tried to roll over, but firm hands held her down to keep her in place.

“Easy, Empress, easy,” one of the Senators with medical experience said. “You fainted. It looks like you’ve had some kind of stress or panic attack. Just stay still and breathe deeply and slowly. Help is on the way.”

Embarrassment filled Becca as her mind cleared and she began to fully grasp the situation. She had collapsed in front of a bunch of Senators! The news would be all over Earth within the hour. And even now, she was lying helpless on the floor in front of them. Again, she tried to get herself upright. However, as she moved, she suddenly became aware of a great deal of wetness between her legs and down her thighs.

Horror shot through her. She had collapsed onto her belly. Had she hurt her baby?

“My baby!” Becca half screamed as her hands frantically shot down toward her pelvis. “My baby, is he okay?”

More hands held her down as her augmented strength threatened to throw off those supporting her. Then someone felt along her thigh. “It’s okay, Empress. There’s no blood. Your waters broke, that’s all. It’s just your waters.”

One horror left Becca, but another immediately took its place. Her due date was still a little over three weeks away. She couldn’t go into labor yet. It was too early!

One of the doors into the conference room suddenly burst open. Marines in combat fatigues poured into the room. Before Becca knew what was happening, they had surrounded her. A woman’s face appeared in front of hers. “Empress, I’m Marine Doctor Sanchez,” she said. “I’m going to take care of you now. You’re going to be alright.” Then Sanchez turned to the senator who had been closest to her.

As they quickly discussed her situation, Becca began to feel like she was having an out-of-body experience. She could feel every hand on her body and hear everything being said about her, yet it felt like it was happening to someone else. Her mind had retreated into itself, and though she was aware of everything around her, she felt a strange distance between her thoughts and what was actually happening.

Half in a daze, she watched as four marines lifted her onto a hover stretcher. Then they rushed her out of the conference room, attaching different medical devices to her arms, neck, and belly as they moved. The marine doctor spoke to her several times, but Becca didn’t really comprehend anything being said. Instead, two words repeated themselves over and over in her mind: My baby. My baby. She hoped someone would tell her he was going to be okay. She didn’t even realize she was half-screaming the words all the way through the palace as the marines rushed her to a medical suite on its second floor.

When they got there, she was placed into a full-body scanner. A buzzing noise filled her ears as large metallic bands moved back and forth over her.

Only when they receded and another doctor leaned over Becca did she snap back to reality. “Empress, I’m afraid the baby is in distress. We need to sedate you immediately and perform a C-section.”

“What? No... I wanted to give birth naturally. Jonathan and I talked about it,” Becca protested, momentarily more concerned about her husband’s wishes than her unborn son’s health.

“I’m sorry, Empress. That’s not going to happen this time. We need to sedate you now. Every moment’s delay increases the risk,” the doctor said as she raised a hypospray toward Becca’s neck.

“No!” Becca began to protest, her mind still fixated on what she thought Jonathan would say. She tried to speak again, but the hypospray was already pressed against her neck. Her next words came out in a slur before her eyes fluttered and closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.

*

An hour later, Becca’s eyes snapped open. Panic flooded her mind. “My baby?” she called out, her eyes frantically searching around her.

Then she felt a small movement on her chest. At the same time, a smell like nothing she had encountered before greeted her nostrils. A whine of contentment reached her ears a moment later. Becca’s eyes snapped down to the baby resting on her bare chest. His top was bundled up, but he was naked where he lay against her. Immediately, her arms swung up and wrapped themselves around her newborn son.

As she looked down into his face, all the fear and stress that had overwhelmed her disappeared. He was perfect.

A moment later, the same doctor who had sedated her gently stepped to the side of her bed. “Empress, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m pleased to tell you the procedure went perfectly. Your little boy is perfectly healthy – now that he’s in his mother’s arms.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Becca said, glancing up to nod her thanks before her eyes immediately returned to her son. “He really is okay?”

“Perfectly okay,” the doctor said.

Becca felt a wide smile of contentment spread across her face.

“You’re going to need a lot of rest,” the doctor continued. “Several of your vital signs are still a little worrying. You’ve clearly been under a lot of stress. For his sake, you’re going to have to take it easy.”

“Yes, I understand, Doctor,” Becca said, though she half-doubted her own words. There was no way she would be able to get rid of any of the stress she was under. But maybe now I will have an excuse, she told herself. And he needs my best.

Movement at the Doctor’s side drew Becca’s eyes back up. She smiled when she saw Jonathan’s mother.

“Becca,” Christine said, relief filling her voice. “I’m so glad both of you are okay. I got a shuttle over as soon as I heard.”

Becca twisted her torso slightly and uncovered part of her baby’s face. “Meet your grandson,” she said with a smile.

Christine’s cheeks widened into a grin that matched Becca’s from moments before. She reached out and gently stroked the top of his head. “He’s beautiful.”

For several moments, Becca and Christine just stared at the baby on her chest while the doctor backed away quietly. Then Christine’s eyes shot back up to Becca’s.

“Your parents are here. The doctors wouldn’t let anyone in, but I forced my way in anyway. I’ll go get them right away. Then I’ll let your staff officers know you’re okay and have them transfer your responsibilities to me. You’ll be taking a couple of months off at least – the doctor already told me that’s what you need.”

Before Becca could protest, Christine spun and went in search of her parents. Becca shook her head as Jonathan’s mother disappeared.

“That was your nanny, little boy,” she whispered to the bundle of joy on her chest. “And you’re about to meet your other grandparents soon too. Then someday, you’ll get to meet your father. He isn’t here right now – he’s off fighting for our freedom. But he will be back. I promise.”

Leaning in, Becca sealed her promise with a kiss to her son’s forehead. Then, as she stared at him, even her constant fear for Jonathan’s safety faded into the back of her mind. Their son had been born.

Chapter 33

Surprise is a critical element in war.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 4th April 2515 AD, (three weeks later).

It’s happening, Jonathan thought to himself as he read the latest scouting reports. Everyone else on Imperial’s bridge was watching the battle they were in play out in front of them, but Jonathan couldn’t shake his uneasy feeling.

For over a month now, his fleet and all the squadrons he had detached and sent out had been ravaging the southern Yanum-mi systems. Admiral Hawcrans' fleet was now just two weeks east and had been steadily doing the same as it moved west through Yanum-mi territory. But a week ago, things had begun to change. Fewer scouts were returning, and those that did reported being chased by increasing numbers of Yanum-mi warships. In Jonathan’s mind, a pattern was forming. Someone was trying to keep him in the dark. That, as far as he was concerned, meant one thing: a massive Yanum-mi fleet had to be nearby.

Exactly how near, Jonathan couldn’t be sure. But the uncertainty was unsettling. He had assumed that when the main Yanum-mi fleet came out to fight, he would have ample time to respond. Yet he now had no certainty where the enemy was, and many of his squadrons were still on detached duty. It had also been several days since he had received a message from Hawcrans, which added to Jonathan's unease. I need to recall my forces, he thought, coming to a decision, and send a warning to Hawcrans.

Before alerting Iso and Rossi, Jonathan glanced up at the main holo display. His fleet of eighteen thousand warships was currently besieging a Yanum-mi world that housed a sizable shipyard. Though the yard was only equipped to build frigates and destroyers, Jonathan’s engineers estimated it could produce over four hundred ships a year. He wanted it either destroyed or captured. To that end, his bombard cruisers were saturating the yard’s battlestations with tungsten slivers, being careful not to hit the shipyard itself. The Yanum-mi warships defending the planet had caught onto this and were huddled around the shipyard. However, with only five hundred of them, Jonathan wasn’t too concerned.

“How much longer?” he asked.

“Another eighteen salvos should do it,” Harte replied, turning toward him. “That’s about an hour and forty-five minutes, factoring in time for the bombard cruisers to reload.”

Jonathan nodded; he could already see the cruisers’ tender ships moving into position. “We’ll move in and give them one salvo, see how much damage it does,” he said. “We should be able to take out most of their orbital battlestations in one go. Then we’ll swing around and send the fighters in against the warships.”

“Understood,” Harte responded.

Jonathan wished Georgia were with him instead of leading a squadron on her own. Taking out the Yanum-mi warships without damaging the shipyard was exactly the type of mission she excelled at. You’ll have to make do without her this time, he reminded himself, though another worry nagged him—she could have run into the main Yanum-mi fleet. Jonathan gestured to Iso and then turned to Rossi, who both looked to him expectantly.

Scott interrupted before he could speak. “Admiral, I’ve been reviewing the scouting reports,” she said over the COM channel from Constitution.

Jonathan tapped the control panel on his command chair, bringing up a holo image of Scott. He smiled. “As have I, Admiral.” He glanced at Iso and Rossi. “I was just about to suggest we send out fast frigates to recall all detached squadrons and get word to Hawcrans as well. Is that what you were thinking?”

Scott gave Jonathan a nod of respect. “I knew there was a good reason why you’re in command,” she said with a hint of humor before her expression turned more serious. “Yes, I think it’s a good idea. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but something feels… off. Our scouts are encountering more resistance, which we’d expect the further north we go, yet they haven’t detected any sizable enemy formations. They have to be out there, though. So, where are they?”

“Maybe closer than we think,” Jonathan replied, voicing his own unease. “There are gaps in our scouting intel—gaps that a good commander could exploit.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Scott agreed.

“You believe the main Yanum-mi fleet may have already moved south?” Reverus asked.

“I think it’s possible,” Jonathan responded. He then addressed Tasata-su. “Tasata-su, you know who’s likely to be commanding them. What’s your take?”

“Admiral Faran-su is good—very good,” Tasata-su replied from his flagship. “Along with Karanta-su, we are all cousins, as you know. Growing up, he was always my main rival in combat school and in the competition for command positions. If my clan hadn’t sided with one of Tanaka-lan’s opponents in the civil war, Faran-su would likely have commanded one of the invasion fleets Tanaka-lan sent against your worlds… but of course, he was never quite as good as me.”

“Of course not,” Jonathan agreed, though privately he wasn’t quite so sure. It’s been years since you last saw him. Faran-su could have learned a few things in that time. Stealth wasn’t typical of the Karacknid way, but their recent losses may have forced some of their commanders to adapt. Jonathan had seen enough from the Free Karacknids, Gal-taks, and Dar’kanans in his fleet to know they could evolve their tactics. “Still, no matter how good he is,” Jonathan said, “we need to be cautious. What we’re attempting is risky enough as it is.”

“I’ll dispatch the frigates at once, Admiral,” Rossi responded.

In the next ten minutes, over fifty frigates broke from the Allied fleet, heading toward each of the system’s five shift passages. Jonathan watched them go before refocusing on the ongoing battle. With their practiced efficiency, his bombard cruisers steadily wore down the enemy battlestations. Occasionally, one was destroyed when a tungsten sliver struck a weakened area. For the most part, the slivers continued to chip away at point-defense weapons and sensor nodes.

Eventually, Harte looked up from his console. “I think that’s it, Admiral. Any more bombardment salvos would be a waste of ammunition. We estimate their defenses have been reduced by eighty percent.”

“Alright, let’s move in,” Jonathan ordered.

With every ship on standby, Imperial and the Allied fleet launched into action. Accelerating hard, they moved into a formation that would bring them within missile range of the Yanum-mi world. For twenty minutes, they built up the momentum their missiles would need, preparing to strike. Just as Jonathan turned to give Harte the nod to fire, an alarm blared through the bridge.

Harte’s eyes shot down to his console, his expression shifting from surprise to horror. He looked up at Jonathan. “Enemy ships entering the system—thousands of them!”

Every head on Imperial’s bridge snapped toward the main display. The screen quickly populated with a growing mass of contacts, thousands and still increasing. At first, the mass of incoming ships was hard to decipher, but soon the contacts resolved into five distinct squadrons, each with at least two thousand ships. And behind them, a massive formation of thirty-eight thousand warships settled onto an intercept course with Jonathan’s fleet.

Jonathan stared, wide-eyed, at the massive force. His instincts had been both right and terribly wrong. The Yanum-mi fleet was not only close but right on top of them, and it was overwhelmingly powerful. All along, his and Tasata-su’s plan had counted on luring the Yanum-mi fleet south, which was why they had delayed joining Hawcrans’ fleet. Yet Jonathan had never imagined the enemy could bring such an armada this close, undetected. And they were closing in by the second.

Cold reality broke through his shock. His fleet was currently headed almost directly into the Yanum-mi armada. As powerful as his forces were, they could not stand against such a massive concentration of Karacknid warships.

“Change of plan,” Jonathan said, keeping his voice steady. “It seems our guests have arrived a little early. Harte, we’ll fire one salvo, then get out of here. Target their battlestations and warships. Iso, prepare to turn the fleet…” He paused to assess their options. “We’ll make for the southeastern shift passage. We need maneuvering room, and then we’ll head north.”

“I’m drawing up the route now, Admiral,” Iso replied, her tone serious.

“Rossi, send a transmission to the frigates we dispatched. They’re to inform our detached forces that we’ll need to enact Plan Venus immediately. All squadrons are to head north independently, and we’ll combine with them as we go. Make sure the frigates reaching Hawcrans are updated as well. He needs to know Venus has begun.”

“Transmissions sent, Admiral,” Rossi confirmed from her COM station.

Jonathan glanced at the main display, then turned back to Rossi. “And dispatch additional frigates to our northernmost squadrons. They’ll need to take a longer route around.”

Rossi looked at the display, her face darkening. She nodded as she realized the fate of the frigates she had dispatched over an hour ago. They had built up too much momentum toward the system’s northern shift passage and were now being intercepted by enemy light flotillas. Their chances of escape were gone.

As everyone set to work, Jonathan watched the frigates’ final moments. Realizing what was to come, the frigates closed formation, preparing to fight and die together. They sent a stream of final COM messages back to the fleet, messages meant to be relayed to Earth and their loved ones. And then, as they braced for their last stand, two Yanum-mi flotillas closed in on them from different angles.

Outnumbered ten to one, the frigates showed their skill by shooting down far more missiles than they had any right to. But they couldn’t get them all. Karacknid antimatter warheads eventually broke through, detonating around them. All six frigates were engulfed. They claimed a small revenge, however, as one of their own missiles slipped through the defensive fire of the Yanum-mi and connected with a destroyer. The antimatter explosion vaporized the enemy ship entirely.

“Firing,” Harte announced into the silence that had settled over the bridge as the crew processed the frigates’ last moments.

Four hundred and ninety thousand missiles launched from the Allied warships, streaking into space. Immediately after firing, Iso began turning the Allied fleet away from the charging Yanum-mi and toward the system’s southeastern shift passage.

In response, the Yanum-mi battlestations and additional ships defending the planet replied with just under seventy-four thousand missiles. The two missile waves passed each other in space before converging on their targets. Jonathan kept an eye on almost every missile incoming against them, with only five hitting targets, destroying two ships and crippling another. In stark contrast, the Allied fleet devastated the Yanum-mi forces in planetary orbit; every battlestation was either destroyed or crippled, leaving just seventeen of the original five hundred garrisoned warships intact.

As Jonathan’s fleet pulled away from the planet, the Yanum-mi fleet adjusted course to follow. Jonathan’s gaze shifted to the core formation at the heart of the enemy fleet, analyzing it for weaknesses, knowing that sooner or later, they would have to face them in open battle. But not just yet, he thought, directing it toward Tasata-su’s cousin. Plan Venus had officially begun, and now, the race was on!

Chapter 34

Even our greatest heroes must die at some point. That is the problem with getting attached to the great historical figures of our past—sooner or later, we must read of their deaths.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Spartan, 7th April 2515 AD, (three days later).

Georgia knew something was wrong. It had been two days since she had heard any word from her brother’s fleet or any other Allied force. Something had happened. For the past six days, she had been ranging north and west ahead of Jonathan’s fleet as she and her force of carriers and fighter squadrons raided Yanum-mi systems. They had caught and destroyed two enemy flotillas and harassed several freighter convoys. All of them had been heading north, seemingly fleeing from the main Allied fleet. Yet two days ago, space had suddenly become empty. Her squadron of five hundred warships hadn’t encountered any other ships, friend or foe, in the two systems they had traversed.

After the first day of silence, Georgia had ordered a course change. Now her squadron was carefully making its way east again, searching for Jonathan’s fleet. So far, they were having no success. Even more worryingly, none of the scouting frigates Georgia had sent ahead on the new route had returned.

As Spartan and the other warships slowly approached the shift passage they intended to use to continue east, her sense of unease steadily grew. The closer they got to the shift passage, the more vulnerable they became to an enemy force jumping in right on top of them. The fact that her ships hadn’t detected any Yanum-mi scouts suggested that no one knew they were there to be ambushed. Yet as more time passed, Georgia’s worry for her scout frigates deepened. Ideally, several of them should have been waiting for her at the shift passage to confirm that the route ahead was clear. Yet there was still no sign of them.

When they were just forty minutes from the shift passage, Georgia couldn’t take it any longer. “Slow the squadron,” she ordered. Her eyes darted around as she assessed the nearest astronomical bodies. She pointed to a nearby asteroid field. It wasn’t very dense or large, but it was close. “Take us towards that asteroid field. I want us hidden. Detach four frigates to head to the shift passage and check it out. Two are then to jump into the next system and see if there’s any sign of our scout frigates.”

“As you wish, Wing Commander,” Commodore Hardfoot said. He nodded to his officers, who began carrying out Georgia’s orders.

With her ships slowing and turning, Georgia’s unease lessened, but only slightly. All the way to the asteroid field, her eyes kept darting back to the shift passage, expecting trouble even as she hoped to see her scout frigates return. Neither happened. As her squadron settled into the middle of the asteroid field, Georgia felt a little better. Then, two of the four frigates she had dispatched to the shift passage disappeared as they jumped into shift space. With an estimated eight-hour journey to the next system, Georgia now had a lengthy wait in front of her. Until the frigates returned or one of her scout frigates came back, she was staying put.

Over the next couple of hours, Georgia tried to distract herself by reading various reports from her squadron. Although Spartan's commander, Commodore Hardfoot, and his staff were technically in charge of the day-to-day activities, Georgia liked to stay informed. She believed that if she was going to lead them into battle, she needed to know the officers she commanded and the state of their ships.

Though she engrossed herself in the reports, Georgia became increasingly aware of the looks she was getting from Hardfoot’s staff officers and Spartan’s lieutenants. They think I’m scared of shadows, Georgia guessed. Well, I might be, she admitted to herself, but she couldn’t ignore her instincts. She had come to trust them in the cockpit of her fighter and couldn’t just dismiss them now.

When she sensed someone looking at her again, Georgia’s eyes snapped up. She met the gaze of Spartan’s second lieutenant, who quickly lowered his head, his cheeks reddening. As she glanced around at the other officers, her eyes happened to pass over the holo display when Spartan’s passive sensors detected two explosions in quick succession. Contact alarms blared a moment later. Waves of gravimetric energy began to be detected as the engines of six Yanum-mi frigates came to life.

“Those explosions were our frigates at the shift passage!” Hardfoot’s tactical officer informed everyone. “They’re gone. No trace left.”

“Those ships jumped out almost right on top of them!” Hardfoot said. “They knew they were there.”

“Which means they might already know we’re here,” Georgia responded, taking Hardfoot’s observation to its logical conclusion. Even before they moved to the asteroid field, Georgia had been approaching the shift passage slowly. If hidden Yanum-mi scouts had been watching the passage, it was possible her ships had gone undetected, yet it was equally possible they hadn’t.

Everyone on Spartan’s bridge seemed to hold their breath as the six Yanum-mi frigates began to move further into the system. Their direction would indicate what they knew. The tension mounted as additional contacts started to appear. Within minutes, fifty more frigates, destroyers, and cruisers jumped into the system and fanned out, their active sensors sweeping every inch of space around the shift passage.

“None are heading directly for us,” Hardfoot said. “Either they don’t know we’re here, or they’re pretending not to.”

Georgia nodded. That was the problem. A wise commander would let her think she was safe until he had enough ships in the system to surround her. If that was the case, they needed to make a run for it now. Yet there were other considerations. To Georgia’s eye, the search patterns of the Karacknid ships resembled those of a screening flotilla. That meant they were clearing the way for a larger Yanum-mi force. If true, something more serious was at play. The main Allied fleet was supposed to be east of Georgia’s location, as were most of the powerful squadrons Jonathan had detached and sent further north, east, and west. If a significant Yanum-mi squadron, or worse, a fleet, was approaching from the east, something had gone wrong.

This explains why no messenger frigates have reached us, Georgia realized. Which means enemy forces have been operating in this sector for at least a couple of days, more likely three or four. In her mind, there was only one way the Yanum-mi could have interdicted every messenger frigate her brother would have sent. The main Yanum-mi fleet had to have come south. And they must have done so quickly for Jonathan not to have spotted them and sent a warning to us.

“I think this is a screening force for the main Yanum-mi fleet,” Georgia said to Hardfoot and his officers, sharing her thoughts. “Or at least a powerful squadron detached from their main fleet. It explains why we’ve heard nothing from Admiral Somerville. If they’re here, it means they’ve made contact with our main fleet, which likely means Operation Venus is already in play.”

“But we were supposed to be with the main fleet when Venus began,” Hardfoot said. “We were supposed to get word well in advance.”

“Plans change,” Georgia replied, turning to him. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Hardfoot said, quickly overcoming his surprise. “So, what do you want us to do?”

That was the question Georgia hadn’t fully answered yet. “If Venus has begun, Admiral Somerville will be heading north. If he was taken by surprise, he might not have been able to go due north. There could also be other squadrons caught off-guard like us as well. Either way, we need to head north and try to join up with whoever we can find. The question is, do we make a break for it now or wait for whoever is passing to get out of the way first?”

Every eye on the bridge turned from Georgia to the main holo display as they tried to answer the question. As they did, the fifty-two enemy contacts continued scouting around the shift passage, searching for any more Allied warships. If they were clearing the way for a larger Yanum-mi fleet to transit eastward, staying put and waiting for them to pass was the safest option. But if a fleet came through and headed north, it would block Georgia’s squadron from making their move. There was also the possibility the Yanum-mi already knew where Spartan was hiding. If they were biding their time to surround her, she would need to move now to have any hope of escaping.

There was also the risk of more Yanum-mi ships arriving. Georgia could lead her ships out of the asteroid field and destroy the scouting force on their way to the northern shift passage. Yet, if more Yanum-mi ships jumped in during the engagement, they could trap her.

Georgia struggled with indecision. She didn’t have enough information to make an informed choice and was already making assumptions. “We need more information,” Georgia admitted, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. If she couldn’t make a decision, there was only one option left. “We’ll wait and see what else comes through the shift passage.”

Heads around Georgia nodded. Hardfoot looked like he agreed, and if he didn’t, Georgia hoped he would speak up. But what better solution could he offer? He knew no more than she did. Neither did the other bridge officers, which meant their approval was based solely on their confidence in her. The burden of command, Georgia thought. She felt it more than ever. Everyone was watching her, but she didn’t know what the right decision was.

As it turned out, things developed quickly. Just fifteen minutes after Georgia’s two frigates were destroyed, more ships jumped into the system. One hundred more ships appeared, including heavy cruisers and two battlecruisers. They formed up and began accelerating into the inner system, heading toward one of the western shift passages. The frigates and destroyers that had been scanning the area around the shift passage moved ahead of them and began to fan out further.

Georgia breathed a sigh of relief. “They are just here to traverse through the system,” she said. “Once they pass, we can slip out and move north… Or at least, that is what they still want us to think,” she added as she realized she couldn’t get too excited yet. Her words ramped up the tension on the bridge that had momentarily fallen. “Time will soon tell us. If they move on into the system far past us, they won’t have come here to surround us,” Georgia said as much for her own benefit as for the officers around her.

As patiently as she could and with as straight a face as she could manage, Georgia waited. Ten minutes passed, and no more enemy ships appeared. The ten minutes turned into half an hour and then an hour. Georgia couldn’t help thinking about the two frigates she had ordered to jump down the shift passage the enemy squadron had come from. She was conflicted. It was likely they had missed the Yanum-mi squadron, but if there were more Yanum-mi forces in the next system, then they were likely jumping to certain death. She felt the weight of responsibility for their deaths. Yet if they did escape, they would come back. On their return, the frigates might alert the Yanum-mi that there could be more ships in the system. Almost, Georgia hoped they had been caught and killed, though she immediately felt guilty for such thoughts.

An hour after the two enemy battlecruisers entered the system, Georgia’s focus on her moral dilemma vanished. Over a hundred ships had suddenly appeared on the main display at the same moment Spartan’s contact alarms went off. For a second, Georgia thought it was just another small scouting squadron. Yet quickly, the numbers began to rise. Within half a minute, the number of ships Spartan’s passive sensors were detecting had risen to over four hundred.

“Look at these six frigates here,” Hardfoot’s tactical lieutenant warned. “They are coming our way.”

Georgia wanted to groan. With far more ships, the second Yanum-mi squadron was searching a wider area of space. “They are going to find us,” she said aloud, forcing herself to face the truth of their new situation. She couldn’t wait around any longer. She had to act. But which way? she asked herself. She could flee west, south, or north. Whatever she chose, the first Yanum-mi fleet would be able to catch her. That was a given. But whatever way she went, the second fleet was likely to follow her. There was only one option Georgia wanted. “We’re heading north. That’s where Jonathan will be going, that’s where we are going to go too,” Georgia said as she stood.

“But where are you going, Wing Commander?” Hardfoot asked.

Georgia gestured toward the image of the first Yanum-mi squadron. “As soon as we come out of the asteroid field, they are going to turn towards us. We can’t afford to let them get into missile range; we can’t risk our carriers being hit. I’m going to clear a path for us.” Georgia fixed her eyes on Hardfoot. “You get our ships moving north as quickly as possible. There isn’t a moment to lose!”

“Yes, right away,” Hardfoot responded seriously.

Georgia turned to her two staff officers. “Launch half our squadrons. I’ll lead them. Squadron Leader Moffett is to command the rest. If the second fleet launches fighters at our carriers, he is to hold them off until I can get back.”

“Understood, Wing Commander,” her senior lieutenant said.

Georgia nodded and then spun and quickly left the bridge. She needed to take out the first Yanum-mi squadron before the second could combine with it.

Two minutes later, Georgia was pushed back into her flight seat as Spartan launched her Talon out into space. Quickly, thirty squadrons of fighters formed up around her as she turned her Talon’s nose toward the second Yanum-mi squadron. It was already turning toward Spartan and Hardfoot’s other ships as they moved out of the asteroid field as fast as they safely could. The second Yanum-mi squadron—now six hundred ships strong—was also picking up momentum as it charged into the system too.

As the first enemy squadron was in the process of passing by the asteroid field they had been hiding in, it was just a fifteen-minute flight to hit them. They quickly pulled all the frigates and destroyers that had been ranging ahead of their formation back. Then they formed up into a tight ball, ready to receive Georgia’s attack. They also launched two squadrons of fighters to intercept Georgia.

“Don’t waste our antifighter missiles on them,” Georgia told her pilots. “Save them for later.” A glance at one of her secondary screens told her she needed to give no additional explanation. Four hundred fighters and counting had already launched from the second Yanum-mi squadron. They were clearly preparing for a strike on her pilots' carriers.

With ease, her overwhelming force destroyed the twenty-four Karacknid fighters that tried to disrupt their attack. One Allied fighter was shot down by a Karacknid missile, and a second was hit by enemy laser beams. All of the Yanum-mi fighters were then destroyed before they could do any further damage.

“Target their capital ships,” Georgia ordered. “We need to take them all out. They are the threat to our carriers.” As she spoke, she began to assign targets to her squadrons. She gave herself the battlecruiser at the center of the enemy’s formation.

Seconds after every Squadron Leader confirmed their targets, the Yanum-mi warships opened up with their point defenses. Georgia easily twisted and weaved through everything fired at her. That was until her shield suddenly flared. A laser beam had just grazed it. The sudden blue and green haze that enveloped her from the ionized shield particles and the warning alarm jolted Georgia. For a split second, she was shocked she had been hit; then the visual sights and the sound of the alarm sent her mind rushing back to when her Talon had been shot down.

Fear erupted within her. She was suddenly terrified that her mind was about to take her back to relive the moments when she had been shot down again. Her hyper-focused state wavered. But then she realized she wasn’t stuck in her memories. The fear wasn’t from those moments; she was just scared of going back there. Never again! she swore to herself. For a moment, rage swelled up. Right away Georgia knew that wouldn’t help her. Pressing her shoulders back, she relaxed her body into her flight seat. Calm, she thought. As she obeyed her own voice, her hyper-focus state returned.

Every gunner gets lucky once, she told herself as she once again felt like nothing could touch her. Then all thoughts of the slip wavered as her eyes locked onto the Yanum-mi battlecruiser.

As soon as the Eaglaton and Varanni fighters came into range, they fired their laser and grazer cannons. The beams tore into the small Yanum-mi warships with deadly effect. Georgia held her fire, however. She waited, knowing several of the smaller ships around the battlecruiser would be hit. Once she had a clear firing line, she depressed her primary trigger. The grazer beam crossed the distance to the enemy capital ship in half a second. It hit right where Georgia had aimed. The beam sliced through all of the warship’s engines, blasting them apart. Secondary explosions rippled up from the engines, destroying nearly a fifth of the ship. Without engines and in a wild spin, the battlecruiser didn’t even see the missiles that slammed into it ten seconds later, finishing it off.

Throughout the rest of the small Yanum-mi squadron, many ships suffered the same fate. Direct hits from antimatter warheads blew ships apart while proximity hits melted engines and sensor nodes to slag, rendering their targets unable to continue fighting. As Georgia’s squadrons pulled away from the strike and reformed around her, just nine enemy warships remained intact. They were now no threat to Hardfoot’s warships and Georgia’s carriers. If they came close, they would be blasted apart.

As soon as Georgia saw her attack had been successful, her eyes whipped around to the second Yanum-mi squadron. They now had five hundred fighters in space. The tracks of the Allied squadron and the Karacknids showed that Georgia’s ships would pass in front of the enemy and make it to the system’s northern shift passage just before they could be brought into missile range. The Yanum-mi fighters clearly had other ideas, for they were already charging toward her carriers.

Georgia had left three hundred additional fighters with Hardfoot. Yet they wouldn’t be enough to stop some Karacknids from getting through with their deadly particle cannons. Georgia eased her throttle forward as she pushed her Talon’s engines beyond their safety limits. Come on, girl, we can do this. “Match my acceleration if you can,” she said to her pilots. This is why we saved our missiles, she thought as she watched the charging Karacknid fighters.

For twenty minutes, Georgia’s Talon held up under the strenuous demands she put on it. Not all of her pilots were able to keep up. Forty-seven had to fall back as their engines or reactors encountered problems. Two hundred and twenty-six stayed with her. They managed to get into missile range just as the Karacknid fighter force rushed past in front of them. As soon as Georgia’s Talon beeped to signal that her first missile had a lock, she squeezed the trigger. A second later, she squeezed it again.

Almost five hundred missiles streaked away toward the Karacknids as their momentum carried them quickly past Georgia’s Talon, creating an increasing gap. The Karacknids turned as one toward the incoming missiles and opened fire with their laser cannons. A couple of dozen missiles were shot down before the Karacknids went evasive. Then the Allied antifighter missiles rushed into the Karacknid formation and detonated within seconds of one another. Each detonation released a wave of shrapnel designed to shred enemy fighters. Over one hundred Karacknids were taken out by the attack.

Georgia wasn’t satisfied. A hundred kills were good, but not good enough. The Karacknids still had a hundred more fighters than Squadron Leader Moffett’s force. Gritting her teeth, Georgia turned the nose of her fighter along the same trajectory her missiles had taken. She couldn’t stop the Karacknid force from hitting her ships, but she could follow them in. Come on, she thought toward the three hundred pilots of Moffett’s force. You can take them!

As the four hundred Karacknids clashed with Moffett’s three hundred fighters, both sides launched missiles at one another. Laser beams and plasma bolts filled the rapidly shrinking space between the two forces. Knowing their carriers were at risk, the Allied pilots all but forgot about their own safety in their efforts to shoot their enemies down. On the other hand, the Karacknids focused on their evasive maneuvers as they tried their best to survive long enough to reach their real targets.

Both sides suffered losses, with the bulk on the Karacknid side. However, as the two groups merged on her screen and then separated, Georgia swore. Ninety-six Karacknids were still charging toward her squadron of warships.

The Allied ships unleashed a withering hail of fire at the Karacknid fighters. Quickly, they began to die in large numbers. Yet the Karacknids did something unexpected. Knowing they couldn’t survive the amount of fire being put out by the Allied warships for long, they fired at extreme range. The particle beams they fired traveled slower than the speed of light. As a result, the Allied ships received a split-second warning. Evasive maneuvers saved many, but Georgia’s largest carriers were the least maneuverable, and almost all the enemy fighters had targeted them.

“No!” Georgia groaned in anguish as at least three of her six bulk carriers erupted in large explosions. One broke up immediately, disintegrating into thousands of pieces of debris. The other two lost acceleration and started to fall out of formation. Fear for her ships and pilots engulfed Georgia. With only three bulk carriers left, she wouldn’t be able to land and service a third of her fighter force. Worse than that, though, each bulk carrier had a crew of over two thousand.

Many of them will still be alive on those two carriers, Georgia told herself. We can’t leave any of them behind! Yet her eyes turned to the second Karacknid squadron. Its four hundred and fifty ships were already gaining on Hardfoot’s ships. There is no time! Then her eyes found the thirty-three Karacknid fighters that were pulling up and away from the fire of the Allied warships. Whatever happened with the carriers, Georgia knew one thing. You are not getting a second chance at my ships! With a twist of her flight stick, she dove in to follow them.

Chapter 35

The Civil War was as bloody a conflict as our Empire has ever fought. Worse, it could not have come at a more inopportune time. Everything built by the founding generations was almost lost.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Rage spilled out through Georgia’s hyper-focused state as she swooped down onto the retreating Yanum-mi fighters from behind. Her lips spread into a feral grin. They had forgotten about her force. Having blasted through Moffett’s fighters and struck her carriers, they thought they were safe. Making the most of her enemies’ blunder, Georgia closed in to almost point-blank range. Then she lined up her first shot. Even as her finger squeezed the primary trigger on her flight stick, she whipped the nose of her Talon around and sprayed a second target and then a third. All three targets exploded in quick succession.

A second after she fired her first beams, hundreds of other laser beams and plasma bolts joined her assault. Georgia’s eyes widened. She had been so focused on the death of her carriers and her desire for revenge that she hadn’t noticed all her fighters had followed her. Before the few Yanum-mi fighters who had survived their attack run against Commodore Hardfoot’s ships knew what was happening, they were all taken out.

Almost, Georgia felt disappointed. She had wanted to kill every single one of the thirty-three enemy fighters. Instead, she only got three. But they are dead, she told herself. And there are more important matters to attend to.

“All fighters, return to your carriers,” Georgia ordered as she swung her Talon back towards Spartan. “Those that don’t have carriers, rendezvous with the fleet, and we’ll get you situated as quickly as we can.”

Georgia then switched COM channels and hailed Spartan. “Commodore, we’re coming in to land. What is the status of the squadron, and where do you want us?”

“Wing Commander, thank you for taking out those fighters. We had no desire to see them make it back to their carriers,” Hardfoot responded. “Ah, as for the squadron, we’re still assessing all the damage. We’ve lost Agamemnon, I’m afraid. She’s completely gone. Enterprise and Royal Oak have both suffered serious damage. I fear Enterprise is a lost cause. There might be some hope for Royal Oak. We have engineers assessing both carriers at the moment. The problem is their positions.”

Georgia nodded. “I understand.” She could see it on her screen. Both bulk carriers were quickly falling astern of the rest of the squadron. With the second Karacknid squadron of warships still charging to intercept Spartan, any reduction in speed from the Allied ships would let the Yanum-mi catch them. “If we wait for them, we doom ourselves.”

“Yes,” Hardfoot agreed. “But it’s worse than that. We don’t have the shuttles to evacuate the crews of both carriers. Not unless we slow the squadron to let the shuttles make more trips. We might have to choose which one to save.”

Georgia muted her COM unit as she swore. She knew what Hardfoot was saying. She would have to choose.

“Hold on,” Hardfoot added. “I’m getting an update now... Ok,” he said after a handful of seconds. “It’s confirmed—Enterprise’s reactors are too damaged. They can’t be started again. My engineers tell me Royal Oak can be saved, though. They believe they can get her engines running again in the next five minutes. It might take another ten to get them up to full power. But if we do, we’d have to slow the fleet to wait for her. Otherwise, she’d be a sitting duck on her own. What do you want me to do, Wing Commander?”

What am I supposed to do? Georgia asked herself as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Logically, she knew she should pick one of the carriers to evacuate and escape with the rest of her fleet. It would mean leaving over two thousand more people to their deaths. But how many more will die if you let the Yanum-mi squadron catch us? She didn’t know the answer to that. Yet she did know one thing. I will have a say in that! Georgia gripped her flight stick as if she were going into battle again. “We’re not leaving anyone behind, not as long as we can help it!” she told Hardfoot. “Evacuate Enterprise and get Royal Oak up and running. Drop as many destroyers as you think necessary back and hook up tow lines to Royal Oak. We’ll tow her and help her get up to speed.”

“Good thinking, Wing Commander. We’ll begin right away!” Hardfoot said. “We’ve already started making room for your fighters in all our warships’ hangars as well. They should all be able to land somewhere when you get here.”

“Thank you,” Georgia said. “But that’s not going to be enough. I need your people to find ways to get fuel to every fighter that doesn’t have a carrier to land on. We’re going to have to launch again before we get to safety. If the Yanum-mi catch us, my pilots are going to shoot down every single missile we can.”

“As you wish, Wing Commander. We’ll do our best,” Hardfoot promised.

When Georgia’s Talon reached Spartan, she held off landing until she made sure every one of her other pilots was looked after. Each bulk carrier berthed ten squadrons totaling one hundred and twenty fighters. With two gone, a lot of fighters had to be landed in the hangars of regular warships, which, unlike Spartan, didn’t have launch tubes or refueling stations for fighters. Things were also complicated by the fact that there were three different fighter variants within her wing.

As she oversaw getting her fighters somewhere to land safely, Georgia kept one eye on Royal Oak and Enterprise. Hundreds of shuttles raced back from the Allied squadron toward the latter, while ten destroyers fell back and hooked themselves up to Royal Oak. To the carrier’s engineers’ credit, by the time they did, Royal Oak already had her engines up and running again. They quickly ramped up the power flowing through the engines as they raced to catch up with the squadron, which had slowed to wait for them.

Eventually, accommodation was found for all of Georgia’s fighters, and she then flew under Spartan’s belly and up into her hangar, landing at her Talon’s service station. Quickly, Georgia made her way to the bridge. “What is our status?” she asked as she entered and made her way to her command chair.

“The last shuttles are on their way back from Enterprise,” Hardfoot said, giving her a nod. “Royal Oak is making better time than we expected. But we are still going to be caught.”

With a hand, Hardfoot gestured at the main holo display. It showed the tracks of the two fleets. Georgia’s four hundred and ninety-five ships were a light minute ahead of the Yanum-mi. Yet the Karacknids were catching up fast. Once Royal Oak reached her maximum acceleration, the rate at which the squadron was being caught would reduce dramatically. However, the display clearly showed they would be caught before they reached the system’s northern shift passage.

“Three salvos?” Georgia guessed as she did her best to estimate how things would play out.

“Yes, Wing Commander,” Hardfoot said with a heavy voice. “And they have four battleships.”

Georgia nodded. That was a problem. In her mind, she imagined launching an attack on them with her fighters. She would have to go in alone without the aid of a missile salvo from her ships. Given the losses she had already taken, she could lose half her fighters. But the squadron would survive, she told herself.

“I’m not so sure a fighter strike is the best option,” Hardfoot said, seemingly reading her thoughts. Georgia turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “We can defend ourselves against three enemy salvos. We’ll likely take losses, yes, but hopefully none of our carriers will be hit. If we lose a significant portion of your fighter force, then we’ll have lost our main offensive capabilities. It’s likely to be a long journey north, and I don’t want to have to try it with only half of your Wing.”

“No,” Georgia agreed as she grasped what Hardfoot was saying. “We don’t know how many more Yanum-mi squadrons will be between us and my brother.”

Hardfoot nodded. “Without your fighters, we’d be sitting ducks.”

“That still leaves us with the problem of our pursuers. They’ll follow us to the next system,” Georgia pointed out.

Hardfoot looked up at the display but said nothing. Georgia understood; she had committed them to this course of action. They couldn’t turn back now, the Yanum-mi were in the way now. “Perhaps we can hit them with a fighter strike when they come out of shift space in the next system,” she said as she sensed the mood darkening. “Or even a feint will cause them to be cautious and buy us some room to maneuver. Then we can give them the slip.”

“That sounds like a plan, Wing Commander,” Hardfoot said, though his voice was far too level for Georgia to think he was as confident as his words suggested.

We’ll think of something, she assured herself. But first, we need to get to the next system! “All right, we’ll worry about that later. Right now, we know we’re going to have to face three enemy salvos in just two hours. It’s time to prepare ourselves as best we can.” As she spoke, her mind went to several different times her father or another one of his friends had been in similar situations. There are a few things we can try, she said to herself.

*

Twenty minutes before the Yanum-mi squadron brought her ships into missile range, Georgia launched with all five hundred and fifty of her fighters. She formed them up right behind the squadron and then settled in to wait.

The Yanum-mi fired the moment they came into range. Their four hundred and fifty warships shot out ten thousand missiles toward Spartan and her consorts. Hardfoot waited just twenty seconds before ordering his ships to return fire. Over the next ten minutes, the Yanum-mi fired five more salvos and then ceased. With a flight time of seventeen minutes, the Allied fleet would be able to jump to safety before the fourth and fifth salvos hit, but the Yanum-mi were clearly hoping their first waves would slow their prey’s escape enough to let the others hit.

As the first group of missiles fired by both sides passed one another, the first trick Georgia had remembered came into play. The Allied missiles did not carry their customary mark VIII antimatter warheads. Instead, they were armed with simple nuclear warheads. At the last second, each one veered towards the Yanum-mi missiles and then detonated. Thermonuclear blasts caught several hundred enemy missiles. More importantly, the EMP pulses given off by the detonations fried the targeting sensors of over a thousand more.

The rest of the Yanum-mi missiles in that salvo spun away wildly from the explosions. They then began to reform with one another to attack the Allied ships together. Georgia didn’t give them the time they needed. Thirty seconds after the detonations, her fighters swooped in against the missiles. Though she had them in her sights for just six seconds, Georgia ruthlessly tore into as many as she could with her laser cannons. She let out a grunt of satisfaction as she shot down four in the brief time she had. She grunted again when she saw her fighters had taken out over a thousand between them.

Two more to go, Georgia said to herself. Though she was tempted to watch the first salvo hit her ships, she knew she had to focus on her mission. Attacking the second Yanum-mi salvo was going to require some delicate maneuvers. She needed to maximize the time she would have to hit them, but she also needed to then rush her fighters back to their carriers. If she delayed landing them, the fleet would have to wait in the system longer than necessary and could end up being caught by another one of the Yanum-mi salvos. Carefully, carefully, she said to herself as she turned her fighter onto a series of new headings. Her job grew more difficult as the second Yanum-mi salvo altered its course to avoid the second group of missiles fired by Hardfoot.

When she was in position, Georgia spared a single glance at her ships. They were fighting with everything they had against the seven thousand-plus missiles assaulting them from the first enemy salvo. Focus, she told herself, then she led her fighters as they swept down on the enemy missiles from above. This time, Georgia had her fighters moving back toward Spartan, giving them nine seconds to take on the Yanum-mi missiles. Just as importantly, they had their anti-fighter missiles too. As soon as her Talon beeped at her, Georgia fired one and then a second missile. They, along with nine hundred more, boosted ahead of her fighters toward their targets.

Sensing the missiles closing in on them, the Yanum-mi missiles went evasive. Just over a hundred of Georgia’s missiles scored hits. But then her fighters rushed into range. Laser beams and plasma bolts struck out at the enemy warheads, and hundreds began to be shot down. Georgia scored six hits herself. When the Yanum-mi missiles’ higher acceleration rates moved them out of range, fourteen hundred of their number were no more.

Now comes the hard part, Georgia told herself. She had to fly in after the Yanum-mi missiles, watch helplessly as they attacked her ships, and then try to land her fighter force as quickly as possible so their carriers could jump out to safety.

As the second enemy salvo approached, the Allied warships opened fire with their point defenses. Watching, Georgia quickly noticed a small gap in the defensive fire she was used to seeing. At least one frigate had been killed by the first Yanum-mi salvo. One hundred, Georgia thought to herself. That was how many lives her decision to save Royal Oak had already cost.

Despite their best efforts, the Yanum-mi missiles closed in on the Allied warships. Georgia braced herself, knowing the assault was about to intensify. Almost at the last second, Hardfoot executed another of Georgia’s tricks. Two destroyers suddenly lit up on Georgia’s Talon’s sensors as their reactors and engines went into overdrive and they pulled out of formation. At the same time, the Allied fleet’s ECM powered up to full. Many Yanum-mi missiles momentarily lost track of their targets, then reacquired them and homed in on the two destroyers. The Yanum-mi missiles swarmed them, overwhelming their defenses and countering their evasive maneuvers. Both vessels disappeared, engulfed by multiple detonations.

Their crews, however, were relatively safe, having been evacuated over an hour ago. But the danger wasn’t past yet, as another eighty Yanum-mi missiles continued toward the Allied fleet. A final salvo of AM missiles and flak cannon rounds thinned their numbers, but some still broke through and detonated.

Georgia winced as she saw a carrier suffer a proximity hit. A light cruiser blew apart a second later, struck by four missiles. Then a destroyer followed. Six hundred and fifty, Georgia counted to herself grimly, and that didn’t count the inevitable loss of life on the ships damaged.

Though she felt guilt for every life lost, Georgia forced it away. Her fighter was fast approaching Hardfoot’s ships and the third Yanum-mi salvo was racing in close behind her. “Keep calm, everyone. You can all do this,” Georgia encouraged her pilots. She waited for the exact right moment. “Begin breaking maneuver now!”

Pulling back on her flight stick, Georgia spun the nose of her Talon up and away from Spartan. Then she punched the throttle to full, widening the gap between her fighter and the warship. Just ten seconds after completing the maneuver, space around her became awash with color as Hardfoot’s ships opened fire with their point defenses. Far in the distance, Georgia could see small explosions marking where flak rounds detonated or Yanum-mi missiles were struck. Quickly, the number and intensity of explosions grew.

Sweat began to form on Georgia’s brow and neck. Though she was in her hyper focused state, she felt the tension acutely. She hated feeling helpless. At any moment, an Allied commander might accidentally shoot her, or a Yanum-mi missile could slam into her Talon. Every pilot in her wing had to be feeling the same pressure. They were all decelerating along a prearranged flight path and couldn’t carry out any evasive maneuvers for fear of straying into a firing lane of one of their own ships.

As the line of explosions marking where the Yanum-mi missiles were struck moved closer, Georgia began to fear for her ships. With her fighters unable to engage this powerful enemy salvo, it was the strongest her squadron had yet faced.

Suddenly, new shapes began to flash past Georgia’s cockpit. All around her, chunks of metal and other debris filled her vision. For a few brief seconds, it looked like she was back in the tail of the comet O’Kane had hidden her behind. Then the debris flew away toward the Yanum-mi missiles, quickly shifting and then disappearing. They were Georgia’s last trick. Every ship in her squadron had jettisoned every piece of rubbish and non-essential spare part they had. A couple of seconds after the debris passed her Talon, Hardfoot ordered his ships to fire. Every flak cannon in the squadron fired at the debris, sending small explosions of shrapnel smashing into the debris streams, shattering them into tens of thousands of chunks. A giant wave of objects thus fanned out to greet the incoming enemy missiles.

Georgia watched the missiles try and fail to weave through the debris. Hundreds of explosions marked where the missiles failed. Then the Allied ships opened up again on those that made it through. In seconds, the wave of exploding missiles rushed right up to Georgia’s Talon. Then her fighter beeped at her—it was time to try landing. As Georgia flipped her fighter over once again, all hell broke loose. Just as she caught sight of Spartan, the remaining Yanum-mi missiles passed by her fighter. Space around her Talon filled with energy beams and bolts, explosions from AM missiles and flak rounds, and debris from shattered missiles.

Then the Yanum-mi missiles began to detonate. Without warning, massive blue clouds of antimatter erupted all around the ships Georgia was winding her way through as she raced towards the relative safety of Spartan. Just to her left, Georgia saw three fighters simply disappear as a missile detonated near the carrier they were heading towards. The antimatter tore down their shields and vaporized them quicker than she could blink.

Her own shield flashed several times as small chunks of metal casing from destroyed warheads or flak rounds bounced off it. Then an antimatter bloom suddenly appeared almost right in front of her. Georgia jerked her flight stick, narrowly spinning out of the way just in time. For a couple of seconds, she was disoriented, her eyes searching wildly as she tried to figure out where she was in the midst of the Allied formation. Then her eyes found Spartan once again. Clenching her teeth, she charged toward the warship, desperate to get out of the line of fire. First, she slipped past a frigate, then had to pull up frantically as evasive maneuvers from a destroyer nearly sent her barreling into its side. Suddenly, though, a clear path opened up, and she shot straight toward Spartan. Slamming on her brakes and twisting her fighter one hundred and eighty degrees, she bled off most of her momentum and matched Spartan’s velocity and heading. Then, far more quickly than was strictly safe, she pulled up and into the hangar’s small opening.

With great relief, she relaxed and left her hyper focused state. Seconds later, just after gently touching her Talon down onto Spartan’s deck, she felt the familiar tremor run up through the landing struts of her fighter. Spartan had just jumped into the safety of shift space. We made it! Georgia’s next thought turned to her losses. Immediately, she accessed Spartan’s computer through her fighter’s console. A medium cruiser and two more frigates had been lost in the final enemy salvo. Eleven hundred and fifty. That was how many people she had lost.

As her canopy opened, Georgia slowly unbuckled herself and stood. She couldn’t shake the guilt that the number brought. Yes, by waiting for Royal Oak she had saved more people and preserved one of her key carriers. Yet, at least eleven hundred and fifty people were now dead who otherwise would have escaped solely because of her decision to wait for Royal Oak. As she walked through Spartan’s corridors toward the bridge, Georgia continued to feel conflicted.

Then her mother’s stern voice entered her mind: You didn’t kill them; the Yanum-mi did. They are to blame, not you! Right away, Georgia knew that was exactly what her mother would say. And she is right, she told herself. More than that, you have the rest of your squadron to save.

Jumping to shift space had given her ships a reprieve, but as soon as they jumped into the next system, the Yanum-mi were sure to be right on their heels. Time to start planning!

Chapter 36

Timing is everything in war.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Spartan, 8th April 2515 AD, (eighteen hours later).

Spartan and the rest of Georgia’s ships stealthily slipped out of shift space when they arrived at the next system. For several minutes, they peered into the system using passive sensors. As soon as it was clear there were no enemy formations moving within the system, they powered up their reactors and engines to full.

“This one here,” Georgia said as she highlighted a nearby asteroid field. At once, her squadron of warships turned toward the field and began accelerating hard.

Just forty minutes after Spartan jumped into the system, the first Yanum-mi ships appeared. Initially, six frigates jumped into the system close to the mass shadow. Their active sensors swept the area for hidden threats. Five minutes later, the rest of the four-hundred-and-fifty-strong force arrived and immediately set off after Georgia’s squadron.

As her ships approached the asteroid field, Georgia stood up from her command chair and headed down to Spartan’s hangar.

“Good luck, Wing Commander,” Hardfoot said to her.

“And to you, Commodore. If everything goes to plan, this will be over quickly,” Georgia responded—and hopefully with most of our forces intact, she thought but didn’t say aloud as she left the bridge. During the journey through shift space, she’d come to the conclusion that she had to destroy the force pursuing them. If she didn’t, as she headed north, she was almost certain to run into additional Yanum-mi squadrons. If they found her fleet, she’d be surrounded and likely slaughtered.

When she reached Spartan’s hangar, she spoke with her Talon’s flight technician to confirm the fighter was ready, then she settled into her flight seat and closed the canopy. Within a minute, Spartan entered the outer edge of the asteroid field, and several things happened in quick succession.

First, every fighter in Georgia’s wing slow-launched, each one gently shot out of its launch tube with momentum almost matching that of their mothership. Using her throttle ever so gently, Georgia turned her fighter toward the rendezvous point and moved to form up with her five hundred fighters.

As Hardfoot’s warships moved deeper into the field, they peeled away from the bulk and pocket carriers that formed the heart of Georgia’s force. Immediately, recon drones, adapted to emit similar signals to the warships, powered up. They kept in formation with the carriers as the carriers moved deeper into the asteroid field. To Yanum-mi sensors, it would appear that the Allied squadron was attempting to flee through the asteroid field to get ahead of their pursuers. Here and there, the carriers used their point defenses to blast away at asteroids as they passed, trying to clog their trail with debris to make it harder to follow.

Understandably, as the Yanum-mi squadron approached the asteroid field, they were extremely cautious. Fifty frigates and destroyers moved ahead of the rest of their ships, filling space with active sensor emissions. They would undoubtedly detect Hardfoot’s ships and then Georgia’s fighters before the main enemy force entered the field. However, Georgia’s plan didn’t rely on Yanum-mi ships entering the field. Instead, when the main Yanum-mi squadron was close enough, Hardfoot’s ships announced their real location by opening fire. They released a single salvo of nuclear-tipped warheads back toward the edge of the field.

The missiles raced past Georgia’s position and detonated, with each of the seven thousand-strong salvo striking an asteroid. The thermonuclear explosions shattered the asteroids and flung debris out of the field toward the Yanum-mi squadron. At once, Georgia set off with her fighters. Keeping their acceleration relatively low, the Allied craft fell in behind the expanding wave of debris, using the rock chunks and lingering radiation from the nuclear detonations to mask their approach.

The Yanum-mi initially slowed, but as they assessed the situation and saw Hardfoot’s ships turning and fleeing deeper into the field, they increased their acceleration. As soon as they came into range, the frigates leading the main Yanum-mi force began lobbing antimatter warheads at the wave of asteroids, trying to blow a wide hole in the debris for their comrades to fly through. Georgia had anticipated this danger and had her fighters arrayed around the outer edge of the wave, out of harm’s way.

Just before the wave of asteroids reached the lead Yanum-mi frigates, Georgia and her pilots cut their engines, matching the velocity of the asteroid chunks. Georgia held her breath as the frigates passed through the gap they had cleared. If they turned their active sensors toward her position, she’d be spotted immediately—but they didn’t. Instead, they continued scanning the space in front of them, looking for another surprise further ahead.

Four more tense minutes passed, but the frigates never looked behind them. Then, it was time for Georgia to act. Slipping into her hyper focused state, she tapped a button on her console to begin detaching four objects her fighter had towed. The first three detached at four-second intervals, with the final one released thirty seconds later. As the wave of asteroids closed with the main Yanum-mi force, Georgia gradually turned her fighter’s nose, tracking her targets.

A small screen on her console beeped and flashed, alerting her to the rapidly increasing levels of active sensor emissions washing over her craft. The wary Yanum-mi capital ships were bathing the debris wave in far more emissions than the smaller frigates could have. She watched the emissions rise, estimating how close she was to the threshold where her fighter’s stealth capabilities would likely be overwhelmed. Three seconds before that point, she activated her COM unit. “All fighters, attack!” she ordered, pushing her throttle to full.

Her fighter lurched forward, and without hesitation, Georgia dove down toward the gap the Yanum-mi had created in the debris wave. Just as she had hoped, they had opened a passage for her to attack through. She spared a single glance to ensure her squadrons were with her, then focused on the enemy fleet. Her HUD indicated she was just thirty seconds from entering their point-defense range.

Attacking four hundred prepared ships with five hundred fighters would usually result in heavy losses. Georgia was banking on the element of surprise to give her attack an edge. But that wasn’t all. Three seconds before her wing entered the Yanum-mi’s defensive range, she tapped a button on her console, sending a signal to all five hundred of the first towed objects her fighters had jettisoned. In unison, they detonated. Each released a thermonuclear blast wave, sending thousands of gigajoules of electromagnetic energy into the debris wave. The electromagnetic pulses bounced off the asteroid chunks, creating a blinding field of energy behind Georgia’s fighters. For a few brief seconds, the Yanum-mi warships’ sensors were effectively blinded.

As the radiation began to fade, Georgia activated the second group of nuclear warheads, which detonated, followed by the third five seconds later. By then, the Yanum-mi had started firing blindly in the direction they guessed Georgia’s wing might be. As soon as the electromagnetic radiation from the third wave began dissipating, the Yanum-mi fire became more accurate. At that moment, Georgia activated the fourth and final surprise her fighters had towed into battle: a fleet of ECM drones.

Though they couldn’t produce the same levels of electromagnetic waves generated by a thermonuclear warhead, the ECM drones directed all their countermeasures toward the Yanum-mi warships. Their impact wasn’t perfect, but as fighters around her began to take hits, Georgia sensed they were faring better than usual.

Ten seconds, Georgia thought as the distance on her HUD to her target rapidly decreased. Then, an unexpected surprise struck both the Yanum-mi and Georgia. A thousand new contacts appeared almost directly behind the Yanum-mi ships. Georgia’s eyes widened, and she swore, even in her hyper focused state. Somehow, the Yanum-mi had managed to gather even more fighters! They wouldn’t stop her from attacking the Yanum-mi capital ships, but once her force blasted through the enemy formation, the newcomers could set upon her fighters and cut them to pieces.

A second later, however, all one thousand contacts turned blue on Georgia’s sensor screen—they were Allied fighters! Georgia had no idea how, or even why, they were there. She didn’t care. Their sudden appearance distracted the Yanum-mi, and their fire faltered. Refocusing on her target, Georgia blocked out everything else. With every ounce of skill she had developed over years of training, she jinked, dove, twisted, and weaved through the incoming fire. Then she came into range. With a deft touch on her flight stick, she lined up her shot and released her grazer beam.

Attacking head-on, she sent the deadly beam right into the nose of her target. The grazer easily burned through the battleship’s front, penetrating deep into the large warship. A series of cascading explosions rippled down about a quarter of the battleship’s length as the beam’s destructive energy blew apart primary and secondary systems.

Many other Yanum-mi ships took similar hits, and their squadron became awash with explosions as laser and grazer beams ravaged their largest vessels. As she pulled her fighter up to safety, Georgia watched her Imperial fighters charge in, as soon as they could, they released their missiles. In seconds, antimatter detonations added to the carnage the Yanum-mi were enduring.

The suffering was only beginning for the Yanum-mi forces. Just four minutes after Georgia’s attack went in, double the number of Allied fighters that had already attacked charged forward. Some frigates that had advanced ahead of the Yanum-mi squadron fell back to assist their comrades, but Georgia’s initial strike had already destroyed nearly a hundred of the largest enemy ships. Even without Georgia’s ruses, the second Allied fighter wing found it easier to execute their attack. By the time the barrage of laser, grazer beams, and antimatter missiles stopped, fewer than thirty Yanum-mi ships remained.

As the newcomers regrouped in safety, Georgia activated her COM unit, eager to know where they’d come from. Yet before she could inquire, twelve hundred more contacts appeared on her sensors. She recognized one ship almost immediately—it was Supernova. O’Kane! Of course, it is him, Georgia thought, feeling both relief and excitement. With his ships, her squadron would be far safer. As if to prove her point, at the sight of the larger Allied squadron, the remaining Yanum-mi ships made an orderly turn and began retreating toward the shift passage they had entered the system from.

He might actually know what’s going on! Georgia hoped as she turned her fighter towards Spartan.

*

Forty minutes after the battle, Georgia’s fighters rejoined Hardfoot’s warships and their carriers as they emerged from the asteroid field they had hidden in. As soon as she was back on Spartan’s bridge, Georgia ordered Hardfoot’s COM officer to hail Supernova. She couldn’t help smiling when O’Kane’s supremely confident face appeared in front of her.

“Wing Commander, it seems I have managed to find you. Though you didn’t make it too hard. Wherever the trouble is, you don’t seem to be too far away,” O’Kane said, flashing her a cocky smile.

“You have impeccable timing, Rear Admiral,” Georgia conceded. “How did you know we were here? And how did you get your fighters into position?”

O’Kane’s smile widened. “I thought you knew how good a commander I was?”

Georgia rolled her eyes. “You are good, I can’t deny that. But even you aren’t that good. So, how?” she asked again, letting a little bit of an edge touch her voice.

“All right, I’ll come clean,” O’Kane said. “The main Yanum-mi fleet surprised your brother several days ago. He immediately put Venus into action but had to retreat south and west first before heading north. As soon as the first messenger frigate reached me, I came looking for you. I knew from your squadron’s position that you were likely to run into enemy ships before any of your brother’s. We were actually in the system stealthily heading toward you when you jumped in. I was going to hail you, but then you went dark and made for that asteroid field. I knew something was up, so I sent my fighters in ahead of my ships to have a force in play to help you if you needed it.”

O’Kane shook his head as he smiled. “I’m not sure you did in the end. Blowing up the asteroids and using them as cover to sneak in and attack was beautiful. The nuclear detonations were a nice touch as well.”

“Thank you,” Georgia said as she felt her cheeks redden just a little. She wasn’t used to such public praise. “But we only hurt the enemy squadron; your fighters delivered the killing blow. I owe you one. If you hadn’t shown up looking for us, the survivors would likely have continued to chase us, and who knows what enemy force we might have blundered into while running from them.”

O’Kane’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really? You owe me one? Well, that is interesting. I think I already know a way you can repay me.”

“You do? How?” Georgia asked without thinking. As soon as she spoke, she knew from the look in O’Kane’s eyes that she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“How about dinner?” O’Kane asked, giving Georgia the most genuine smile he had yet. “Not now, of course,” he quickly added when he saw confusion on her face. “But when we’re in orbit somewhere safe. I can host you here on Supernova.”

Georgia thought she understood what he was asking her. But she didn’t quite believe it. It was the last thing she expected—from anyone, let alone a Rear Admiral!

As he spoke, O’Kane stared intently at Georgia. She could only hold his gaze for a couple of seconds before looking away. When she did, she found all of Spartan’s officers watching her, more than one trying to hide a smile. Her confusion vanished. It was what she thought. Her cheeks immediately reddened. Growing up in the Imperial Palace, with her father as Emperor, the list of men who had the courage to speak to her, let alone show her any interest, had been short indeed. Never had anyone shown such public interest in her before.

We are supposed to be squadron commanders! she said to herself angrily, though she couldn’t decide if she was angrier at O’Kane for asking or at her own embarrassment. When she looked back at him, she forced a fierce look on her face to hide her blushing. O’Kane didn’t speak, but he raised his eyebrows as a thin smile played on his lips.

“We will see,” was all Georgia managed to say.

O’Kane gave her a nod. “That is good enough for me, Wing Commander.”

Georgia couldn’t change the subject quickly enough. “What are we to do next? If Venus has been enacted, we need to continue north. Do you know where Admiral Somerville is?”

O’Kane’s smile vanished, and he became serious for what felt like the first time in the conversation. “You’re right, we need to head north and fast. From what my scouts have been seeing, I think the main Yanum-mi fleet is to our east; it may even be northeast of us. We need to get ahead of it if we are to rejoin your brother. If we can, then the real fun will begin. Jonathan’s messengers said the main Yanum-mi fleet is already hot on his heels!”

“All right then,” Georgia said with a nod. “I don’t intend to miss the real fight. Let’s combine our squadrons and get moving.”

“As you wish, Wing Commander,” O’Kane responded. “It will be a pleasure to fight at your side once again.”

Georgia sensed her cheeks reddening again but ignored it. She had far more important matters to attend to. She needed to rejoin her brother!

*

Spartan, 17th April 2515 AD, (nine days later).

For nine days, Georgia rushed north with O’Kane. The journey was far from sedate. They passed through four systems, each time encountering small Yanum-mi garrisons that thankfully stayed well back from the sixteen-hundred-strong Allied force. However, they also had a couple of run-ins with powerful Yanum-mi scouting forces. A short missile duel saw off one while Georgia struck the other with a fighter strike before it could jump out and bring word of their force to a stronger opponent.

Throughout the journey, their scouts brought back constant reports of the Yanum-mi fleet, which they finally spotted to their east. Gradually, they caught up with it as both forces headed north on parallel courses. Then, with the aid of a hidden shift passage, they managed to get ahead. A day later, they made contact with the scouting forces of Jonathan’s main fleet. They were easy to find, for they were all heading due north on a course directly ahead of the Yanum-mi fleet.

As Spartan jumped into the system where the Allied fleet was positioned and entered two-way communication range with Imperial, Georgia felt both tired and relieved. She hadn’t missed any serious fights, but after nine days of near-constant stress and action, she was beginning to feel worn out. None of it showed on her face when Imperial hailed her and her brother’s holo image appeared a moment later.

“Georgia,” Jonathan said with a wide smile. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve been worried your squadron got cut off and left behind.”

“We nearly did,” Georgia said. “If not for O’Kane.”

Jonathan nodded. “I’ve read the report you sent over. I intend to thank him momentarily. But I wanted to see you first.”

“Well, here I am,” Georgia said. “Safe and sound. Now, tell me, how goes Plan Venus?”

Jonathan’s face darkened ever so slightly. “It didn’t get off to the best start. The Yanum-mi commander is good. Very good, in fact. But we’re ahead of him now. I don’t think he expected us to break north after he chased us from the system we were attacking. Scott is also doing a very good job of slowing their pursuit. She’s a system behind us at the moment with five thousand ships dueling with the Yanum-mi screening forces.

“The problem is, the enemy commander is doing a good job of sending small forces around our flanks. We’re having a hard time keeping in communication with Admiral Hawcrans. It has been five days since I heard from him, and even then, the message was several days old. All I know for sure is that he spotted elements of the main Yanum-mi force and has begun to move north as well. But there’s been no sign of his fleet yet.”

Georgia nodded. Plan Venus was a bold strategy. It had been General Tasata-su’s idea from the start. After drawing the main Yanum-mi fleet south, both elements of the Allied fleet were then to rush north and conquer the Yanum-mi’s capital world, apprehending or killing Clan Lord Karanta-su before his fleet could come to his rescue. However, if both fleets couldn’t combine and the Yanum-mi fleet kept nipping at Jonathan’s heels, things could get very dangerous very quickly.

“What do you need from me?” Georgia asked, her earlier weariness forgotten.

“I need it from you and O’Kane,” Jonathan responded. “You both make a good team. Let me have him join us.”

Georgia felt her cheeks redden at her brothers words. She was thankful when he looked away from her as he operated his COM unit. Stop being so silly, she scolded herself. Since his invitation to dinner, O’Kane had been completely professional during their journey north. Even so, Georgia couldn’t help remembering the look in his eye when he had asked her. It hadn’t helped that she suspected her junior officers kept talking about the two of them whenever they spoke over a COM channel together.

“Rear Admiral, thank you for joining us,” Jonathan said when O’Kane’s face appeared beside his in front of Georgia. Georgia merely gave O’Kane a nod.

“I’m glad we were able to find you so quickly, Admiral,” O’Kane responded. “Neither Wing Commander Somerville nor I wanted to miss any of the real action.”

“You are two of my best commanders. I am very glad you are both here. Let me thank you for finding my sister’s force and coming to their aid,” Jonathan said. “You have a knack for being in the right place at the right time, Rear Admiral.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Admiral, but my officers and I try our best,” O’Kane responded.

“Well, it is your best that I need,” Jonathan said. “I have a request to make of both of you if you believe your forces are up to it.”

“We are ready to serve,” O’Kane said, and Georgia nodded at his words.

Jonathan raised his hand slightly. “Hear me out first and then decide. I want to send you both back to join up with Scott. She could use both of your skills. However, it will mean almost constant action until we reach our goal. What do you think—are your squadrons up for it?”

“Absolutely, Admiral, we are still fully battle-ready,” O’Kane assured Jonathan.

Jonathan turned to Georgia. “As are my ships,” she said, “though my fighter strength is down to just seventy percent, and I don’t have enough carriers to fully service the fighters I still have.”

Jonathan nodded. “My staff and I are aware, Wing Commander. If you think the ships and pilots you do have are ready to go into battle, we have already earmarked two more bulk carriers and their escorts to add to your force.”

“Then we can depart now, if necessary,” Georgia responded.

Jonathan smiled. “Your ships can take on fuel and restock their munitions, then I’ll send orders for you to fall back and join Scott. As I told her let me tell you, don’t take any unnecessary risks, but we need to do all we can to slow the Yanum-mi fleet. We need to buy ourselves as much time as we can.”

“We understand,” Georgia said as she shared a glance with O’Kane, who nodded. “We won’t let you down.”

Chapter 37

In war, no tactic or strategy ever guarantees victory. More often than not, it is better to be the hunter rather than the prey—but not always.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 30th April 2515 AD, (thirteen days later).

As Imperial jumped into the Tarfan system, Jonathan allowed himself a moment’s respite. We made it, he thought as his shoulders relaxed. He had successfully brought his fleet to Clan Lord Karanta-su’s capital ahead of the Yanum-mi fleet. The journey had been long and difficult. All the way, Admiral Faran-su had been pushing to draw Jonathan’s fleet into battle. Failing that, he had also tried to move fast squadrons ahead of Jonathan’s fleet to act as blocking forces. Jonathan had long since lost count of the skirmishes and small battles it had taken to thwart Faran-su’s efforts.

And now we are here, Jonathan said to himself. The race is over! To say it was a relief was an understatement. If his fleet had been caught by Faran-su’s, Jonathan would have had no choice but to fight his numerically superior enemy. With the number of ships Faran-su commanded, the outcome of such a battle would almost certainly not go in the Allies' favor.

After just a handful of seconds, Jonathan took a deep breath. That was all the relaxing he could afford. Already, Imperial’s main display was filling up with contacts as her passive sensors scanned the Yanum-mi system. Jonathan immediately began to assess what he was seeing. He knew he needed to act fast. Though he had beaten Faran-su to the system, the Karacknid commander had kept his force right on Jonathan’s heels. Though Jonathan didn’t know for sure just how far behind Faran-su was, it had to be only a matter of hours. Faran-su had also been successful in cutting off almost all communication between Jonathan and Hawcrans. The Eaglaton Admiral had to be no more than a couple of days away. At least, that was what Jonathan hoped—but he didn’t know for sure.

Whether several hours or a couple of days, what mattered to Jonathan was that Hawcrans hadn’t beat him to the Tarfan system. If he had, a messenger frigate would already have been waiting to greet them at the rendezvous spot. That meant Jonathan was on his own.

Once he had seen enough, Jonathan tapped on his COM unit to open his senior commanders’ channel. All their faces appeared in front of him, including Scott, whom he had recalled a day ago.

“We have little time,” he said to them. “Venus hasn’t worked out quite as we hoped. But even if Hawcrans isn’t here, we are. And we need to act fast. I propose we make a general assault on the planet’s defenses. We will take losses, but we need to get to Karanta-su fast. We can begin landing our troops as soon as we open up a hole in their defenses. Is everyone agreed?” Heads around Jonathan nodded.

“My fighters can blast a hole for General Johnston,” Georgia said confidently.

“And my forces are ready to deploy at your command, Admiral,” Johnston said. “As long as Karanta-su is there, we will get him.”

“He will be,” Tasata-su assured everyone. “He cannot run from his capital. Not in the face of someone he deems a heathen and false Imperator. He will be in his palace. Though he is no fool. He will know why we are here. It will be well guarded.”

“We will take it,” Johnston said confidently.

“Scott, Shraw, Reverus, what do you say?” Jonathan asked his most trusted commanders.

“Either we attack now or swing east and try and link up with Hawcrans,” Scott said as she laid out their options. “I would prefer to face Faran-su with Hawcrans’ fleet at our side, but Faran-su would likely just run to the capital and hide behind its battlestations. So I am for striking now.”

Shraw’s response was predictable. “As am I,” the Gramrian said.

Jonathan turned to Reverus. It would be understandable if he were the one most in favor of linking up with his compatriot before committing to a battle. “We need to strike now,” Reverus said firmly surprising Jonathan. “There is no other choice. I can only apologize for Hawcrans’ absence. He must have encountered a serious problem.”

“No need to apologize, Vice Admiral,” Jonathan said quickly. “You have already assured us that he’s a competent commander. This plan was always going to be risky.” Jonathan paused and took a deep breath. “Very well then, we are all in agreement. Let us advance. We’ll keep this audio channel open and plan our attack as we move in. Let’s finish this as quickly as we can.”

As heads around Jonathan nodded, he met each of their eyes, then tapped his COM unit to make the holo images of their faces disappear. Then he turned to Iso. “Take us in. Set course for Tarfan.”

“Yes, sir,” Iso responded. Moments later, Imperial and twenty-eight thousand other Allied warships announced their presence by beginning to accelerate into the system. As their noses lined up toward the planet that was home to over ten billion Karacknids and Clan Lord Karanta-su’s palace, their intentions became crystal clear.

Though Jonathan’s advance north had been quick, word had clearly reached the system that they were approaching. The outer system was devoid of almost any activity. Instead, every military and civilian ship was huddled under the hundreds of battlestations that protected the Yanum-mi world of Tarfan. That didn’t mean there weren’t hidden threats awaiting them, though. Jonathan and his commanders had discussed the possibility that the Yanum-mi had prepared traps for them, and so four thousand warships and as many fighters began to spread out in front of Imperial. Despite the risk, Jonathan’s main fleet didn’t slow. Whatever the Yanum-mi might have waiting couldn’t be worse than getting hit by Faran-su’s fleet from behind. They had to push forward.

It didn’t take long for the first surprises to be found. Several small minefields activated and attacked screening squadrons as they came close. Iso responded immediately to each threat by weaving the main Allied fleet around the minefield. Each maneuver slowed their advance, but it couldn’t be helped.

As they continued forward, Jonathan kept studying the Yanum-mi defenses and discussed them with his commanders. A total of eight hundred and ninety battlestations had been detected and catalogued. Most were of a design Jonathan hadn’t seen before, though Tasata-su had briefed him on them. With a missile salvo of two hundred and fifty missiles each, they would put out a salvo of over two hundred thousand missiles all by themselves. In formation with them, there were six thousand warships, and further bolstering their defenses were several thousand point-defense satellites. Also of concern were the many orbital hangars that indicated the planet had a significant number of fighters ready to defend it.

Taken together, the planet’s defenses were by far the strongest Jonathan had seen around a Karacknid world. All his commanders agreed they were going to take heavy losses by charging the defenses instead of trying to wear them down over time. There was no way around that now, though. Jonathan had committed his fleet to such an attack weeks ago when he had first envisioned attempting to bypass the Yanum-mi fleet and strike Clan Lord Karanta-su’s world directly. That didn’t mean, however, that there weren’t ways to mitigate the losses they would suffer and maximize their offensive capabilities. Diligently, Jonathan and his staff officers liaised with his senior commanders as they sought to arrange their formation and prioritize their targets to best utilize their strengths.

Then, an hour after entering the system, the first real threat to Jonathan’s fleet materialized. Alarms on Imperial’s bridge alerted everyone to new contacts being detected. Thousands of them quickly appeared in low orbit around Tarfan. The orbital hangars were emptying themselves of their fighters.

“They want to hit us before we can come into range with our weapons,” Scott said.

“They’ll take heavy losses, but so might we,” Shraw commented.

Jonathan nodded. The enemy fighters would cause far more damage to his fleet if they waited to attack alongside the first salvo of missiles from their battlestations. Yet by then, Jonathan’s fleet could have fired four or five full-strength salvos at the planet’s defenses. If the fighters struck first and destroyed several thousand ships, then his attack upon the planet would be weakened from the start.

“I’ll alert my squadrons,” Georgia said. “We can launch to intercept as soon as you wish.”

“Make your preparations, Wing Commander,” Jonathan responded.

“Do you think they know about the bombard cruisers?” Harte asked after several moments.

When Jonathan turned to him, he saw his tactical officer was looking at the formation of fifteen cruisers stationed near the rear of the Allied fleet. Right away, he knew where Harte’s mind was going. “You think they believe we’re here to bombard them from a distance?”

Harte looked down from the holo display and nodded. “We’ve been doing our best to keep any of Faran-su’s ships from getting around us and so Tarfan’s defenders might not know just where he is. If they think he’s a day or two behind us, they might assume we have more time than we really do.”

Jonathan nodded. It was possible. The question was, did he want to risk the cruisers? Or more specifically, did he want to sacrifice them?

“We’re going to need those ships if we ever hope to take Gayla,” Tasata-su pointed out. “My cousin is bound to know how effective they are by now. He will have ordered his pilots to target them if he can. We should protect them at all costs.”

At all costs? Jonathan asked himself as he looked up at the approaching wing of fighters. Imperial was now tracking eighteen thousand fighters closing in on his fleet. It was an impressive number, especially given how many his scouts indicated were already part of Faran-su’s fleet. Clearly, the Yanum-mi had devoted a significant portion of their industrial capacity to churning out fighters. As soon as they learned about our invasion, they probably shifted their focus to fighters, Jonathan guessed. Humanity had done the same when Tanaka-lan had begun his invasion. In the short term, fighters were the best defensive weapon anyone could produce.

How many will we lose? Jonathan asked himself. If even just five hundred enemy fighters made it into attack range, they could destroy that many of his ships. If those were five hundred frigates, Jonathan would never consider sacrificing his bombard cruisers to avoid such losses. But the Karacknid pilots would be targeting dreadnoughts and Kulrean worldships. Losing five hundred of them would seriously deplete his offensive and defensive capabilities. Five hundred losses now could result in thousands of additional casualties during the assault on the planet.

“The bombard cruisers are essential to our long-term plans,” Jonathan said, weighing Harte's suggestion against Tasata-su’s caution. “But Andrea is supposed to be building us additional ones. And maybe we don’t need them all. How about we just risk some of them?” When Harte looked confused, Jonathan quickly explained.

“I don’t like sacrificing such important assets, but I understand your logic,” Scott responded. “And they may not take the bait anyway.”

“They will take the bait,” Tasata-su was certain. “If you are sure, Imperator, then we should try it.”

“Alright then. Georgia, join your pilots and begin launching. Iso, make the necessary preparations.” Both women nodded to Jonathan and then got to work. Georgia stood and left the bridge while Iso worked with Harte and Jonathan’s other staff officers.

Over the next several minutes, Georgia’s entire wing of twenty-nine thousand fighters launched and formed into their thousands of squadrons. Then the Allied fleet’s formation began to change. Just as Georgia led her wing across the front of the fleet, and a host of worldships and dreadnoughts moved in front of the bombard cruisers, the cruisers and their escorts began to fall back behind the fleet.

In reality, only a third of the cruisers fell back. The other two thirds went into stealth mode while specially adapted drones took their place, mimicking their sensor profiles. Stealth shuttles also took off from the real bombard cruisers and their escorts, as the warships were all evacuated. While the Allied fleet formed into a tight defensive ball, prepared to receive the Yanum-mi fighters, the assortment of real and fake bombard cruisers started to fall far astern, trying to stay out of harm’s way.

For a few minutes, Jonathan watched the flotilla. With Imperial still so close to them, her passive sensors could tell the difference between the drones and the real ships. Yet the farther they got, the harder it became to distinguish between them. As long as they don’t scan them with active sensors at close range, they won’t be able to tell, he hoped.

When he was satisfied, Jonathan turned his attention to Georgia’s wing. He prayed a silent prayer for his sister and then forced himself to watch as the two massive groups of fighters collided. Both sides released tens of thousands of anti-fighter missiles. The missiles swept into each formation and, as they detonated, released waves of shrapnel. Thousands scored hits. Then the deadly duels began. In seconds, thousands more fighters were blown apart. Jonathan’s eyebrows rose at the disparity in numbers. Georgia’s force had the advantage in numbers, but even so, their fire proved far more deadly. Her twenty-nine thousand shot down two-thirds of the eighteen thousand enemy craft while suffering just two and a half thousand losses themselves.

“There must be rookie pilots flying those fighters,” Tasata-su said. “I’ve never seen Karacknid pilots fight so poorly.”

“Their best pilots are probably with Faran-su’s fleet,” Scott commented. "Either way, they are paying a heavy price to try and hit our ships.”

“But if they get a few hundred of our capital ships, it may still be worth it,” Jonathan said. “And we now have two and a half thousand fewer fighters to hit their orbital stations with,” he also pointed out. With six thousand fighters still racing toward his fleet, he wasn’t feeling quite as confident as Scott and Tasata-su sounded.

“Look!” Harte said excitedly. “They’re taking the bait.”

Jonathan sat up a little in his command chair. As a thousand of the Yanum-mi fighters broke away from their main formation and began to loop up and over his fleet, he shared a smile with Harte. They are indeed taking the bait. Five bombard cruisers and two dozen screening ships are well worth reducing the enemy's attack by a thousand fighters, he told himself.

“All right,” he said, projecting as much confidence into his voice as possible. “We can deal with five thousand enemy fighters. Harte, coordinate with the rest of the fleet. I want to open up with our heavy energy weapons on them at long range. They hopefully won’t expect such an attack. With twenty-eight thousand warships, we’re bound to be able to do them some damage. Then, when they get close, we’re going to give them a warmer welcome than they’ve ever imagined.”

“Understood, sir, I’ll make the preparations now,” Harte responded.

Four minutes later, Harte looked over to Jonathan. “Ready to fire on your command, Admiral.”

“Do it,” Jonathan ordered.

Every ship in Jonathan’s fleet fired a salvo from their heavy laser and grazer cannons. Over half a million of the energy beams flashed across space. Harte had coordinated them to saturate a small area, and in the blink of an eye, three hundred Yanum-mi fighters disappeared. For a couple of seconds, the rest of the Yanum-mi force didn’t react. Then, all of a sudden, they began gyrating wildly as they executed more erratic evasive maneuvers than usual. Squadrons also spread out further to avoid being caught in tight formations.

As soon as the Allied ships were ready, Harte fired again. The attack was far less effective this time—just sixteen fighters were struck by the beams. Two more salvos destroyed only five in total. Then the Yanum-mi approached point defense range. Harte ceased firing as his gunners shifted focus to shorter-range but more lethal weapons, and a withering barrage reached out to greet the Yanum-mi craft.

First, long-range AM missiles streaked away from the Allied ships in their thousands. Then flak cannons filled space with clouds of shrapnel, while arc emitters sent balls of electromagnetic energy hurtling into the enemy squadrons. Every second, hundreds of Yanum-mi fighters died to the onslaught. Then the closest Allied weapons opened up: plasma and laser cannons flung tens of thousands of bolts and beams out into space every second. Rapid-fire short-range AM missiles also rippled out of their launchers in huge numbers. Jonathan had never seen such a display of firepower from a friendly force.

Into the maelstrom, the Karacknid pilots charged fearlessly. The closer they got to the Allied fleet, however, the more accurate and deadly the defensive fire became. Karacknid fighters were quickly shot down in their thousands. Jonathan began to think the Karacknid attack would prove futile. But then, in just a few short seconds, a handful of Karacknid fighters rushed into range with their directed matter cannons. Beams of particles, accelerated to nearly the speed of light, shot out from their noses. Explosions erupted at the heart of the Allied fleet.

All around Imperial, ships died as the Karacknids attempted to take Jonathan out of the battle. Yet Imperial’s sister ships and comrades did their job, absorbing every beam directed at the flagship. Even as Allied capital ships perished, the rest of the Allied fleet took out the remaining Yanum-mi fighters before they could fire a second time.

As the explosions died down, Jonathan was finally able to assess the damage. Only thirty-one fighters had gotten close enough to fire, but they had inflicted far more damage than their small numbers suggested. Three Kulrean worldships were no more, and twice as many were reporting serious damage. Most of the other losses were among the Imperial and Free Karacknid dreadnoughts surrounding Imperial. Fourteen of the heavy warships were destroyed or crippled, and another six had suffered severe damage from grazing hits.

Jonathan ground his teeth together at the losses. Each ship and her crew had died directly protecting him. Somehow, that made it harder. But it could have been far worse, he reminded himself. If he were in the enemy commander’s shoes, he knew he would be very disappointed at this moment. You should have kept them and used them with your first missile salvo. Jonathan wasn’t about to complain, however. Instead, he switched his focus to the one thousand Yanum-mi fighters that had looped up and over his fleet.

Quickly, the Yanum-mi fighters swept in and charged the flotilla of bombard cruisers. The evacuated ships put up a meager defense, while the drones fired nothing at their attackers. Using a thousand fighters was overkill for the flotilla, but even so, every Yanum-mi fighter fired as soon as they all came within range. In a matter of seconds, every Allied ship and drone disappeared from Imperial's sensors, smashed into debris. The Yanum-mi fighters quickly reformed and turned to charge the rear of the main Allied fleet.

Falling for the ruse had cost them dearly, however. Before they could reach Jonathan’s fleet, Georgia’s wing of fighters came storming through the Allied formation and charged the Yanum-mi fighters head-on. Outnumbered twenty-six to one, the Yanum-mi stood no chance. In the space of just seven seconds, Georgia’s wing shot down all but twenty-seven extremely lucky fighters. For a moment, Jonathan thought they might still attempt to charge his fleet—it was just the kind of hopelessly futile move a desperate Karacknid commander might try. But then the fighters turned, fleeing as fast as they could back towards their hangars.

“Track those fighters and confirm the hangars they land on,” Jonathan instructed Harte. “If they launch against us while we are attacking the battlestations, I want them prioritized and destroyed.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Harte acknowledged.

Jonathan then dismissed them from his thoughts; they would play no further part in the coming battle. Instead, he refocused on the myriad battlestations that were now his primary target. They were now just forty minutes from missile range. After several moments, Jonathan opened his mouth to give a series of new orders, but a contact alarm cut him off.

Every head turned towards a point on the main display that began to flash. Far behind Imperial, right where she had jumped into the system, a hundred frigates had begun to accelerate. For a moment, Jonathan’s hopes soared. If Hawcrans had arrived, then he could hold off his attack until the Eaglaton’s powerful fleet joined him. Mere seconds later, the contacts turned red. They were Yanum-mi. Quickly, Imperial’s computer identified them as warships that were part of Faran-su’s screening forces.

Within seconds, more ships began to appear. Over the next two minutes, over twenty thousand ships revealed themselves as they accelerated. Though the numbers kept rising, Jonathan turned his head away from the growing enemy fleet. He already knew what their presence meant. Faran-su had come. His full fleet of thirty-six thousand would soon be in the system, charging to pin him between themselves and Tarfan’s defenses.

“Reform the fleet into formation attack one,” Jonathan said firmly, drawing his officers’ attention away from the newcomers. “We have a planet to conquer and a Clan Lord to capture. And now we know the timetable we have to work to. Let’s be about it!”

Chapter 38

Much has changed over the Empire’s five hundred year history, but three things have remained certain: our founding constitution, the governmental system it established, and the freedoms it set out to protect. Above all else, they are why we are still here today.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

As his fleet moved into its new formation, Jonathan made his final preparations. “Lieutenant Harte, since they don’t have any fighters left, detach our remaining bombard cruisers with a small flotilla of screening ships. They are to immediately move into range and begin firing. Position them above our line of attack. They can continue firing throughout the engagement.”

“Dispatching them now, Admiral,” Harte responded.

“Iso, I want the fleet brought right into phase cannon range. We’re going to blast General Johnston’s forces a hole in their defenses as quickly as we can.”

“Understood, sir,” Iso said.

“My forces are ready,” Johnston added over the COM channel from his troop ship. “Just open a path and we will do what needs to be done.”

“Wing Commander, are your squadrons prepared?” Jonathan asked his sister.

“We have enough fuel for our attack run, Admiral. Don’t worry about us,” Georgia assured him.

“We might have a problem there,” Scott warned. “Look at Faran-su’s fleet.”

Jonathan had to fight not to swear when he saw what the Yanum-mi commander was doing. Thirty thousand new contacts were forming up ahead of Faran-su’s fleet. He was sending all his fighters in to strike Jonathan’s ships.

“When will they catch us,” Jonathan demanded at once.

“It will take them an hour and a half,” Harte answered.

Jonathan did some quick calculations in his head. His fleet was now thirty-eight minutes out from being able to engage the battlestations. If Georgia’s fighters went in with the first strike, it would take them at least another thirty minutes to make their attack and get back to their carriers. “That would leave your wing just twenty-two minutes to land, refuel, and get back out into space,” he said to Georgia. “Is that going to be enough?”

“We can do it,” she said confidently. “We’ll just refuel each fighter with a third of a tank. That’s all we’ll need to intercept them. But… we’re going to take losses against the battlestations. And Faran-su’s pilots are probably better than the ones we already defeated.”

“I know,” Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite his sudden sense of foreboding. Georgia was telling him his fleet was going to take losses against the enemy fighter force—possibly catastrophic losses, he admitted. Even if Georgia’s fighters outdid themselves, his fleet could end up facing fifteen thousand Karacknid fighters. That was three times the number they had just fought off!

Jonathan felt the temptation to retreat rise up within him. In one sense, he was going to have to anyway, so why not now? A voice asked him. Even if his force managed to capture or kill Clan Lord Karanta-su, his fleet would need to immediately evacuate Tarfan’s orbit before Faran-su’s fleet could catch them. Though Jonathan hoped eliminating the Clan Lord would force Faran-su’s cousin to stand down, he couldn’t rely on it and couldn’t risk waiting around to find out. And if we commit to this attack, any ship damaged by those fighters will have to be abandoned, Jonathan realized grimly. Faran-su’s fleet was closing too fast to risk waiting for repairs.

But we can’t turn back now! Jonathan told himself. If they withdrew, Faran-su would bring his fleet into Tarfan’s orbit to protect his Clan Lord, forcing Jonathan into a drawn-out siege. With supply lines stretching back to Gal-tak space and thousands of other Yanum-mi warships in nearby systems, he might lose even more ships or fail in the siege entirely. The plan has always been a gamble. We have to see it through.

“Do your best, Wing Commander,” Jonathan said to his sister. “I know your pilots will do everything they can to protect us. Admiral Scott, even so, I think we’ll need additional protections.”

“What are you thinking?” Scott asked.

“Once we start whittling down the Yanum-mi battlestations, I want to peel off as many screening ships as we can spare. I don’t want to risk taking extra losses against the battlestations, but the fighters may prove to be the bigger threat. I’d like a force of light ships to intercept them alongside Georgia’s fighters.”

“Don’t worry, Admiral, I’ll handle that. You focus on landing Johnston’s troops,” Scott responded.

Another burst of contact alarms interrupted what Jonathan had been planning to say. What now! he thought in frustration as he looked up at the holo display. For a few seconds, he stared at the new contacts, confused. A massive wave of fighters was moving to join Faran-su’s fleet—larger than the first force! For a split second, Jonathan felt despair. His fleet would never survive or outrun such a force.

Then Reverus suddenly shouted in excitement, “Those are Talon fighters! Hawcrans has arrived. His fleet must be here!”

Sure enough, seconds later, twenty-six thousand additional contacts appeared from a shift passage to the system’s east. Coming out of stealth, they set a course to join Jonathan’s fleet as quickly as possible.

Jonathan shook his head at the sudden reversal in the strategic situation. Faran-su’s forces were now outnumbered—and trapped between two Allied fleets. Jonathan could see what Hawcrans was planning. With Hawcrans’ fighters poised to decimate Faran-su’s warships, the Yanum-mi commander had little choice but to recall his own fighter strike against Jonathan and redirect his fighters to defend his fleet.

“His timing is almost perfect,” Scott said. “He must have just entered the system.”

“He certainly made it just in time,” Jonathan agreed. He looked from Faran-su’s fleet to Tarfan. If he wanted, he could turn from attacking the Yanum-mi clan’s capital and destroy Faran-su’s fleet. However, it would likely cost him at least a third of his forces. If he forced Faran-su to fight, the Karacknid commander would focus all his fire on either Jonathan's or Hawcran’s fleets. Jonathan was certain he could win a protracted missile duel with Faran-su, but his own losses would be significant. And he’ll focus his fire on my fleet, Jonathan knew. “What do you think, General Tasata-su?”

“We go for the planet, Imperator,” the Free Karacknid said without hesitation. “If we can kill Karanta-su, then Faran-su’s fleet will lose its will to fight. Some of the families sworn to Clan Yanum-mi might even pull their ships out. And if we can capture Karanta-su, we might even be able to persuade Faran-su to surrender.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking or not, but he very much hoped Tasata-su was right. “Alright then, we continue on. Hawcrans has given us the breathing space we need. Let’s get to work!”

For the next thirty minutes, Jonathan and his officers prepared for the fight. Behind them, Faran-su’s warships continued to charge into the system after them, while Hawcrans maneuvered into a position to quickly assist Jonathan if Faran-su closed to missile range. The two massive groups of fighters settled onto courses to engage each other, but they wouldn’t meet until after Jonathan’s attack had begun.

Twenty minutes before the Allied fleet could open fire, the bombard cruisers that had rushed ahead of their larger consorts opened fire. They unleashed four rounds of explosive shells, sending millions of tungsten slivers crashing through the Yanum-mi orbital defenses.

Then, Imperial and Jonathan’s warships came into missile range. With a nod from Jonathan, the Allied fleet opened fire. Over a million missiles were hurled out of their tubes. The Allied ships then continued their charge, closing in for the kill. Four minutes and thirty seconds later, they fired again, followed by an identical third salvo soon after. All the while, the bombard cruisers kept up their relentless barrage.

In response, the Yanum-mi battlestations and the six thousand warships defending them fired three hundred thousand missiles. Normally, such a salvo would have deterred nearly every Allied fleet ever gathered—but not Jonathan’s.

With Jonathan’s ships charging toward the enemy, the missile salvos struck hard and fast. Supported by over two thousand small defense satellites, the Yanum-mi tore into the first Allied salvo, shooting down hundreds of thousands of missiles. However, over a thousand missiles evaded their defenses. As they detonated, they revealed Jonathan’s commitment of all his Whirlwind and Shadow missiles to the fight. A tidal wave of tungsten slivers washed over the defenders, followed by detonations from antimatter and miniature black hole warheads.

Right after they detonated, taking out numerous warships and battlestations, Georgia’s twenty-five thousand fighters struck. Laser and grazer beams punched through the armor of hundreds of battlestations. Then fighter-launched missiles smashed into the defenders. Finally, two thousand of Tasata-su’s Karacknid fighters got into attack range and fired their particle beam cannons, devastating the Yanum-mi defenders.

When the explosions cleared, a third of the Yanum-mi battlestations were gone, and half of what remained showed signs of suffering at least one hit. The enemy warships had suffered even worse. Barely two and a half thousand of the original six thousand were still in the fight. However, Jonathan quickly saw that Georgia’s fighters had paid a heavy price. The Yanum-mi defense satellites had cut a swath into their numbers. Just sixteen thousand appeared to be racing out of harm’s way. Jonathan managed to catch a glimpse of Georgia’s fighter before he lost sight of it as his fleet opened up with its defenses.

Despite Jonathan’s gunners’ best efforts, Yanum-mi missiles punched through the defensive fire. Three hundred ships were blown apart by the enemy’s first salvo. Just four minutes later, the second struck, and the third came three minutes and twenty seconds after it. For Jonathan, time felt like it was racing as he lost over twelve hundred ships in the opening eight minutes. Yet his opponents were being hurt far worse. Even without Georgia’s fighters, the enemy battlestations had been so devastated by the first attack that his subsequent salvos continued to drastically reduce their numbers. Less than a third were still in the fight after Jonathan’s third salvo savaged them.

“Slowing the fleet now!” Iso called out.

“Firing again,” Harte announced moments later.

Two more salvos were exchanged as the distance between the two combatant forces quickly closed. The flight times of the salvos were just five minutes, then four and a half minutes, respectively. More antimatter blooms erupted among the Allied fleet as Yanum-mi missiles from both salvos penetrated their defenses. The defenders suffered even worse. Now close enough to fire mark VII missiles, many of the Allied warheads detonated early to fling bomb-pumped laser beams at their targets. Though it took multiple antimatter and laser beam hits to rip through the Yanum-mi battlestations’ extremely thick armor, they continued to die in large numbers to the onslaught.

Then Imperial, her sister ships, the Kalassai city-ships, and the Kulrean worldships within the Allied fleet came into range with their deadliest weapons. Harte directed all their fire. With the touch of a button, he sent six hundred and sixty phase cannon beams lancing into the defenders. Every battlestation and ship stationed directly above Tarfan’s capital city exploded at once.

“That’s your opening, General. Get your troops moving!” Jonathan ordered over the COM channel he had open with General Johnston’s troop carrier.

At once, the troop ships and their escorts at the rear of the Allied formation began to push forward. Even with tens of thousands of missiles still hurtling through space, they charged into low orbit. Before the remaining defenders could fire their energy weapons, however, Imperial’s smaller phase cannons and those of her sister ships fired as Harte widened the hole he had made in the defenders’ formation. Then another massive salvo of Allied missiles struck the Yanum-mi forces.

When the detonations ceased, less than fifty battlestations and barely two hundred enemy ships remained. While they were still reeling from Jonathan’s latest attack, Johnston’s escorts opened fire with their heavy laser and plasma cannons. Every battlestation and ship within range of the deadly energy weapons was blown apart. As soon as they were gone, thousands of shuttles began to launch out of the troop assault ships. They all had one mission—to find and secure Clan Lord Karanta-su.

Jonathan watched as the shuttles raced down towards the planet’s atmosphere, then he glanced at the holo display showing space behind his fleet. Faran-su’s fleet was now just an hour and a half away and still picking up speed. We’re going to have to break orbit in forty minutes, Jonathan calculated. He knew General Johnston would be able to read the situation as well as he. His marines don’t have long! Jonathan feared.

When he looked back to watch his fleet finish off the Yanum-mi defenders and to see the shuttles begin their landings, something else caught his eye. General Tasata-su’s flagship, along with a small flotilla of ships, was surging forward. They had already caught up with Johnston’s troopships and were still moving deeper into Tarfan’s lower orbit. “What is Tasata-su doing?” Jonathan demanded.

When no one answered, Jonathan spun away from the holo display toward Iso. She shook her head as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Admiral. I don’t know. He didn’t signal to tell us he was joining Johnston.”

“Look, shuttles are taking off from his flagship,” Harte pointed out.

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed when he saw them. Ten shuttles were quickly accelerating away from Tasata-su’s dreadnought toward the planet’s atmosphere. They were on the exact same course Johnston’s shuttles had taken. “No!” Jonathan groaned as he smashed a fist into his command chair. He knew what Tasata-su was about to try. He had forbidden it months ago when they had discussed it. Jonathan was certain he couldn’t afford to lose Tasata-su. The General was the glue that held all the various Karacknid clans and families who fought with him together.

Even as he groaned, Jonathan immediately knew he couldn’t do anything to stop the shuttles nearing Tarfan’s atmosphere. If he gave Tasata-su a direct order, the General would ignore it. Then, he would be as good as dead to Jonathan, for no other Karacknid sworn to him would follow Tasata-su if he refused a direct order from his Imperator. Tasata-su had tied Jonathan’s hands, and he had no choice but to watch as the General risked his life—and with it, the cohesion and loyalty of the thousands of Karacknid warships in Jonathan’s fleet.

And time is already running out, Jonathan feared as he glanced at Faran-su’s fleet again. And fast!

Chapter 39

Fatality rates have always been high when Imperial Marines have been deployed against enemy ground positions. Yet, what was seen in the Karacknid Wars was nothing compared to what was to come.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

As his shuttle burst through Tarfan’s atmosphere, Lieutenant Colonel Dawes peered out of his observation port in an effort to get a glimpse of his target. He wasn’t disappointed. Just over five miles away, the tops of hundreds of tall spires were easily visible. Already, they were surrounded in smoke. In the few seconds Dawes could see the city, hundreds of flashes filled his vision as assault shuttles and atmospheric fighters hurled missiles at ground targets. Far more laser beams and SAMs reached up to drive back the attackers.

Dawes swallowed hard; for once, he was glad his shuttle wasn’t trying to land right on top of their target. There was no way any shuttle could get that close to the city.

“Enemy fighters coming up from the east!” the shuttle pilot called out. “Banking west. Hold on.”

Dawes pulled up the visuals from the shuttle’s sensors on his HUD. His heart rate spiked when he saw over three hundred fighters racing across the sky to intercept the shuttles of the Allies' first landing wave. He hated being so helpless.

Help came within seconds, though. Out of the thick cloud that covered most of Tarfan, a powerful force of Allied fighters suddenly appeared. They dropped in behind the Yanum-mi fighters and released a storm of missiles and laser beams. At least forty of the Yanum-mi died within seconds. The rest scattered before they could hit the shuttles.

In response, the shuttle pilot turned the nose of his craft back towards the LZ and dove. “Ten seconds,” he called out.

Dawes instinctively reached out to touch his nano carbon knife, short sword, and pistol to make sure they were all in place. Then he checked the safety on his plasma rifle and took a deep breath. Just as he began to hold it, massive g-forces assaulted him as the shuttle pilot slammed on the brakes. Before the shuttle stopped, its rear access ramp began to open. Looking out, Dawes saw the ground rushing towards them. Then the shuttle abruptly stopped descending. Large yellow stalks of some cultivated plant filled Dawes’s vision.

The moment his harness disengaged, Dawes was on his feet. Ahead of him, ten special forces marines charged down the shuttle’s ramp and jumped the last four meters to the ground. Dawes was right behind them, as were the twenty-one other marines in the platoon he was with.

As soon as they were on the ground, the shuttle blasted off back into the sky. Dawes took a moment to look around. In every direction, hundreds of other shuttles were leaping upwards as platoons of marines, Gramrians, and Karacknids rushed towards cover. Dawes quickly turned and followed the Lieutenant who led the platoon from his shuttle into a nearby tree line that marked the boundary of the massive crop field.

“All companies, check in,” Dawes requested the second he reached the tree line. Quickly, his Captains confirmed they had all landed and sent Dawes their coordinates. On his HUD, his units began to populate the map of the surrounding area being generated by the swarm of nano-drones. All three of the companies that made up Dawes’ battalion were spread out in the tree line.

Further out, other battalions and regiments filled Dawes’ map. Ten thousand soldiers had been dropped in the first wave of the landing. All of them were quickly taking stock of their positions, however, none spread out to secure their LZs. The next wave would do that. The assault General Johnston had planned gave no time for delay.

Johnston had made it clear to his officers that they were on a very tight timetable. Dawes knew that it was especially so for his battalion and the other two tasked with the same mission. Their target was Clan Lord Karanta-su’s palace.

Just before he gave the order for his companies to move out, the roar of more shuttles made Dawes turn and look out through the immensely thick trees towards where his shuttle had deposited his marines. The second wave of landings wasn’t supposed to arrive for at least a few more minutes. Yet shuttles were quickly descending.

For a second, Dawes thought maybe the Yanum-mi were trying to land forces in their rear. But there was no way they could have gotten shuttles past all the Allied fighters patrolling the skies. Then he recognized the markings on the shuttles. They belonged to Tasata-su! Dawes frowned. The Karacknid General wasn’t supposed to be part of the landing operations. And he’s landing right beside our positions, Dawes saw as the shuttles quickly got closer. Whatever was happening, he figured he needed to find out. Yet he didn’t have any time to waste here. “Captain Domingo, your company is to take point. Get moving now,” he ordered. “B and C companies, stay right behind Domingo.”

As his eight hundred special forces marines began to move out into the next crop field, Dawes watched them for a couple of seconds, then turned back to the shuttles. When they touched down, at least three hundred and fifty Karacknid warriors poured out of them. Dawes recognized Tasata-su in their midst. The Karacknid general was looking around intently. When Dawes stepped out of the tree line, Tasata-su immediately spotted him and was standing in front of Dawes within five seconds.

“Lieutenant Colonel, good, I was hoping to find you,” Tasata-su said.

“General, I wasn’t informed that you would be joining us?” Dawes asked.

“No, there’s been a change of plan, I’m coming with you now.” Tasata-su gestured to the warriors around him. “My warriors and I know the city and the palace intimately. I intend to be there when you confront my cousin.”

“Well, I won’t say no to some extra help,” Dawes said, though inwardly he wasn’t entirely pleased about having a general peering over his shoulder watching every decision he made. “And there’s no time to argue anyway. My battalion is already on the move.”

Tasata-su waved towards the city. “Let us not delay you any further, Colonel. We are under your command.”

Dawes nodded. “Follow me.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and broke into a fast jog as he moved to catch up with his companies.

In just a couple of minutes, Dawes had caught up with Captain Domingo. The commander of A Company was just behind his lead platoons as they probed towards the city. With thousands of nano-drones scouring the area ahead of them and no time for caution, the marines were all but charging through the crop fields and sparse forests that ringed Tarfan’s capital.

“No sign of any resistance yet,” Domingo reported. “It looks clear all the way up to the outskirts of the city.”

“They will fight within the city,” Tasata-su said. “That is where they will have the advantage, along with artillery and other weapons systems.”

Dawes didn’t doubt it.

In the space of three more minutes, the marines covered most of the remaining four miles to the outskirts of the city. When they were just one mile away, the Karacknids finally opened fire. Artillery shells, mortar rounds, and missiles streaked up into the air from the city. From behind the Allied troops' positions, the shuttles that had dropped them to the planet’s surface opened up with their point-defense laser turrets. Closer in, ground-based interception laser batteries deployed by supporting platoons also opened fire. In seconds, the sky above the marines was filled with flames as hundreds of pieces of ordnance were intercepted. Still, some rounds got through, and explosions began erupting amidst the charging force.

“Grenades!” Dawes and many other regiment commanders ordered.

All across the six-mile-wide front, soldiers launched or hurled chaff and smoke grenades around their positions and as far forward as they could. Then a loud rumbling began to be picked up by the sensitive audio sensors of Dawes’ combat armor. Within seconds, the roar turned into an almost deafening rumble. In a flash, several hundred atmospheric fighters raced overhead, hugging the ground. They then pulled up and released their deadly missiles. As the missiles raced forward, SAMs struck out at the fighters, but they couldn’t stop the deadly weapons the fighters had released.

“Hold position,” Dawes ordered as every marine in his battalion paused to watch the massive fireballs that shot high into the air around the edge of the city. Every building, including the tall spires at the center of the city, momentarily disappeared, obscured by the flames.

While Dawes’ marines paused, most of the rest of the assault force did not. Charging across the final open ground towards the raging fireballs, eight and a half thousand Human, Gramrian, and Karacknid soldiers rushed into combat. As the flames died back, the hidden defenders opened fire. Laser cannon emplacements, heavy laser rifle nests, and individual Yanum-mi warriors fired thousands of beams into the attackers. Though most fired blindly into the smoke and chaff, they quickly began to score hits.

However, every time they fired, they revealed their positions. Within seconds, mortars from the support companies to the rear of the Allied attack began to pummel them. The charging soldiers also poured their own small arms and rocket fire into the defenders.

Dawes waited with his regiment for sixty seconds—just long enough for all the defenders to become engaged, but no longer than absolutely necessary. “It’s our turn, Domingo. Take point again. Get us to the first waypoint.”

Immediately, Dawes’ regiment set off at a sprint. When special forces marines with all their augments and encased in combat armor, ran, they really ran. Within seconds, Dawes was aware they were leaving General Tasata-su and his warriors behind. He’ll just have to catch up, he told himself. Dawes’ orders were clear: he wasn’t to slow down for anything.

Twice as they charged, enemy shells or missiles landed amidst their formation. Dawes winced at each explosion, but he didn’t slow down. Nor did the other marines around him. They knew they had to leave their killed or wounded to the support companies that would be moving up behind them. In just thirty seconds, they reached the edge of the city. Hurdling a large fence that marked the edge of the crop field, the marines landed on a smooth road surface and made straight for a series of dwellings that overlooked the fields. Quickly, the buildings were cleared. Several Karacknid warriors were cut down by plasma bolts. Thankfully, it looked like the homes had been evacuated by their owners.

Dawes gave his regiment just a few seconds to gather themselves as they took cover. On his HUD, he could see different battalions and regiments pushing deeper into the city ahead of his position, though their progress was quickly slowing as they encountered stiff resistance. “Move out,” he ordered. His force needed to reach their waypoint before the Yanum-mi attempted a counterattack against the diversionary attacks.

Pouring onto the nearest street leading deeper into the city, the marines began charging from building to building, using them for cover. As they advanced, there were almost constant small engagements as Karacknid warriors shot at them from windows or ground-floor doors. Here and there, marines fell to the attacks, but for the most part, the special forces marines’ lightning-quick reflexes meant they spotted their attackers before the Yanum-mi could cut down any more marines.

A glance back told Dawes that Tasata-su’s forces were closing in as his battalion’s pace slowed. Then, A Company’s lead squads took a fork in the road and reached a small square. At its center was a large building. Without waiting to see if it was occupied, Domingo had a handful of hypervelocity missiles slam into the structure. Then his marines charged through the holes they had blasted in the building’s outer walls. By the time Dawes reached the building, it had been cleared.

“Secure the underground station,” Dawes ordered Domingo. “Then hold. B Company will take point from here on in.”

Dawes then checked his chronometer. Twelve and a half minutes had passed since his shuttle had touched down. He was on schedule, but just barely. From landing to evac he had just forty minutes. If he was any slower than that the mission would be a failure, and the fleet would likely leave without him.

Once all the marines of B Company reached the station, Dawes sent them down into the underground train tunnels. “You know the way, move out,” he ordered Lieutenant Hallock.

As B Company rushed into the underground tunnel that would be their route into the heart of the city, Dawes waited for Tasata-su’s force to reach the station. Thankfully, they came into sight within seconds. “How are your warriors?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Tasata-su said. “You marines are fast. But we’ll be able to keep up with you in the tunnels.”

“Then let’s keep moving,” Dawes said. “Stay behind C Company, and I’ll call you up if we need you. Otherwise, I’m keeping you in reserve for the final assault.”

Tasata-su showed Dawes his teeth. “That is fine by me, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Domingo, take up the rear with your Company,” Dawes ordered over his battalion’s COM channel. “Spiers, stay on Hallock’s tail and move up if he needs you.” Then he was running again. Quickly, Dawes moved down the three flights of stairs to the underground subway station, then he jumped onto the tracks and began to follow the mass of marines barreling through the tunnel. Though it looked like it was normally dark except for when trains passed through, with all the flashlights from the marines’ combat armor, it felt like daytime in the tunnel.

Initially, their advance met no resistance. For nearly three minutes, the force snuck its way deep into the city, taking several turns following the route Tasata-su had given them days ago. “There’s a train coming!” Hallock suddenly warned over the COM channel.

A second later, Dawes began to hear a strange squealing noise. Ahead of him, marines threw themselves against the tunnel walls. Dawes did the same. In a flash, strong headlights appeared, and almost as quickly as Dawes could track, a train rushed by. Sparks flew out from its front in every direction. At least one marine’s combat armor was stuck under the front of the train. Dawes didn’t know if the marine inside was alive. Though he desperately wanted to help, he knew there was nothing he could do for the unlucky soldier.

Dawes’ battalion had barely made it another couple of hundred meters before Hallock shouted another warning. “Another train!” he called out over the Com channel. This time every marine was quick to get out of its way.

“They know we are here,” Tasata-su said just after the train rushed past them. “There shouldn’t be trains coming so close together. They’re trying to slow us down.”

“So they can get a blocking force in front of us,” Dawes replied. “Hallock, keep moving as fast as you can. Watch out though, they might try and derail one right into us next.” If Dawes was in control of the trains, that was exactly what he would do.

In quick succession, two more trains whooshed by Dawes’ platoon. That was enough for him. They know exactly where we are. In a battle, that was just about the last thing a commander ever wanted. Quickly, he expanded the map on his HUD. “Change of plan, Hallock, take the next left at the fork up ahead. We’re switching to route Beta.”

The sudden change of direction bought them just thirty seconds of respite. Then the trains started again. “Take the next right,” Dawes ordered. After their second change of route, they made it another five hundred yards before another train tried to smash into them. Just as Dawes was about to give up on using the subway tunnels, the trains stopped. “Something’s up. Keep your eyes open,” he warned, sure it wasn’t a good sign.

“I’ve got movement up ahead,” Hallock reported within seconds. “The drones are coming under attack too. Wait... they’re charging!”

Just as Hallock sent back images from his nano recon drones, sounds of fighting echoed down the tunnel ahead of Dawes. Instinctively, he increased his pace as what looked like hordes of Karacknid warriors suddenly charged down the tunnel toward Hallock’s company. “Hallock, have your lead platoons fall back,” Dawes ordered. “Your rear ones can set up firing lines. C Company, reinforce the lines.”

In a matter of seconds, Dawes reached the rear platoons of B Company. He took up position just behind three marines and raised his rifle. Quickly, two platoons’ worth of marines came barreling around a slight corner in the tunnel, firing behind them as they ran. As soon as they passed through the gap in the line, Karacknids came into view. A withering hail of fire met the charging warriors. Almost instantly, a dozen were cut down, yet more kept charging down the tunnel, firing their laser rifles as they came. With next to no cover within the large oval tunnel, marines began to fall out of the firing line. However, others immediately took their place, and the Karacknids were met with a near-constant barrage of plasma bolts.

Dawes slammed plasma bolts into the chests and faces of at least four of the Karacknids. Then he stepped back out of the firing line to allow another to take his spot. He needed to assess the situation. The first thing he noticed as he checked his HUD was that hardly any marines were dead. Karacknids in their dozens were charging down the tunnel and being cut down, yet their return fire was wildly inaccurate. They’re not fully trained warriors, he realized. That meant one thing: the proper warriors were being kept for something else.

Again, Dawes pulled up the map of the underground tunnel system. Then he checked his chronometer. Time was moving against him now. Eighteen minutes had passed since he jumped from his shuttle. There were other routes he could take to his objective, but they would all add several minutes to his journey. Whatever they’re planning, we have to try and break through it, he told himself. He didn’t like it, for it would cost him far more casualties, but that was his mission. “Hallock, move the firing line forward. We need to take the next station.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Hallock responded.

Within seconds, B Company began to advance. Grenades also started being lobbed down the tunnels, blasting holes in the attackers' numbers. More marines fell, but far more Karacknids were dying. Then the attack ceased. Every Karacknid Dawes could see was down, with at least two or three large holes burned into their torsos.

As Hallock’s marines picked up the pace of their advance, Dawes sent a group of nano drones racing down the tunnel. As soon as they tried to enter the next station, Karacknid drones set upon them. Dawes got enough of a look to see what they were up against. “They’ve set up a barricade in the next station,” he warned Hallock. “I’m guessing it’s manned by fully trained warriors.”

“How do you want us to proceed?” Hallock asked.

Dawes checked the status of Hallock’s company. Of his two hundred and fifty special forces marines who had started the mission, already forty-eight were KIA or marked as wounded. “Move up and advance to here,” Dawes ordered, marking a spot on his HUD map just before the station. “Captain Spiers, C Company will make the assault. Use all the weapons at your disposal, just don’t blow the entrance to the next tunnel we need.”

“Understood, Colonel,” Spiers replied.

C Company attacked just fifteen seconds later. Their charge was fierce. Smoke and chaff grenades blinded the Karacknid warriors, then hyper-velocity missiles and high-explosive grenades smashed into the makeshift barriers they had erected. As the marines charged out of their tunnel, they let out a deafening war cry amplified by their combat armor’s speakers. This was something new—Dawes had learned it from the Free Karacknids they had sparred with. Normally, Karacknids roared as they charged into battle to intimidate their enemies. Now his battalion was using it against them.

Like a bolt of thunder, C Company flashed across the open station to the Karacknids’ defensive positions. In seconds, they smashed into the makeshift barricades or brought them down altogether. An intense point-blank range firefight erupted. Claws, nano-carbon knives, and short swords did as much damage as plasma and laser rifles.

“Station clear!” Spiers announced just thirty seconds after the charge.

“Good work,” Dawes said. “Domingo, A Company is to take point again. Move out. Spiers, regroup and pick up the rear guard.” Twenty-six of C Company’s marines were down, but Dawes could only give Spiers the briefest moment to deal with them.

As they got moving again, they enjoyed nearly a minute of peace. Dawes started to think they had broken through the enemy’s attempt to stop them and that they might actually reach their target on time. Then his drones reached the next station and detected an even stronger layer of defenses being prepared. Dawes slowed as he assessed what to do.

“What is it, Lieutenant Colonel?” Tasata-su asked from the position he’d taken up beside Dawes.

“The next station is heavily defended,” Dawes said quickly. “We’re going to take even more casualties if we try to clear it. Yet we’re still a good distance from our target.”

“Then it is time for my warriors to play their part,” Tasata-su said. “We can attack with your lead company. Let us take point. You can use us as cover.”

“You’re not going to join the attack?” Dawes asked.

“A warrior always leads from the front,” Tasata-su responded.

“Then we’ll take the station together,” Dawes decided. “Domingo, advance to one hundred meters from the next station. The Free Karacknids are going to lead the charge. Move your marines in right behind them.” Dawes then turned back to Tasata-su. “There’s no time to delay.”

“I understand the situation our fleet is in as well as you, Colonel. Do not worry about my warriors,” Tasata-su replied.

Matching actions to words, Tasata-su let out a battle cry, and instantly his warriors picked up their pace. Dawes stayed with them until they reached A Company’s positions, then he fell in beside Domingo. Seconds later, the Karacknids let out another battle cry and began to fire rockets and grenades up the tunnel toward the station as they charged. A dense wave of laser beams greeted them as they neared the end of the tunnel, and many of Tasata-su’s warriors fell. Yet the charge was so swift that the rest quickly gained the entrance to the station, then they fanned out in every direction as more heavy weapons smashed the defenders’ positions.

Dawes and Domingo were just behind the lead platoon of A Company as it joined the attack. As soon as they reached the station, the special forces marines rushed towards the Karacknid defenses. Quickly, they began to pass Free Karacknid warriors who had taken cover and were firing wildly at the defenders. Dawes saw Tasata-su swipe his claws through a wooden barricade, dismantling it instantly, even as he raised his plasma rifle in his other hand and melted the torso of a Yanum-mi who had been hiding behind the defenses.

Then a large barricade made from an upturned train coach loomed over Dawes. He instantly used his speed and enhanced strength to jump up and over its five-meter frame. He landed in the midst of six Karacknid warriors. One fell to the plasma bolts he fired as he descended. A second took four more bolts to the chest before realizing the danger he was in. The other four then began to turn their laser rifles onto Dawes.

Before they could fire, Domingo and another marine landed beside Dawes, crashing into two of the warriors. The other two hesitated for just a second as they assessed whether they had to switch targets. That was all the time Dawes needed. In one move, Dawes drew his short sword and sliced it through the air. First, the blade connected with the nearest Karacknid warrior, taking off his arm and causing him to drop his laser rifle. Continuing the sweep, the sword cut right across the second warrior’s neck. Blood sprayed up into the air as the warrior’s head was flung backwards, nearly severed from his torso.

Without pausing, Dawes turned and fired down the line of Yanum-mi defenders who were firing over their own barricades back at Tasata-su’s warriors. He killed at least two and sent the others diving for cover. At the same time, Domingo and his marine finished off the warriors they had landed on. Then, in a matter of seconds, the sounds of fighting died away as the defenders were finished off. Dawes began barking out orders. “C Company, secure the stairwells! Don’t let any more enemy reinforcements come through here. B Company, take point, keep moving toward the objective.” He then placed a hand on Domingo’s shoulder. “Get your injured somewhere safe and keep moving.” He waited just long enough for the captain to nod before moving through the station to find Tasata-su.

The General was talking to a couple of his officers. He raised a bloodied claw as Dawes approached. “That was a fine charge, Lieutenant Colonel. You’ve got my warriors’ hearts pumping!”

“That’s good... I think,” Dawes replied. “I’m sure we’re going to need them to do it again. Our enemy has no doubt guessed where we’re heading.”

“Then let us keep moving. We wouldn’t want to make things easy for them by giving them plenty of time to prepare,” Tasata-su said.

Dawes nodded. “After me then,” he said as he broke into a fast jog toward the tunnel B Company was already moving down.

Less than a minute later, B company and Dawes stopped. Their recon drones had reached the next station. It was the last one before the station at his target. The large opening, where four other tunnels met, was heaving with Yanum-mi warriors. And this time, their defenses looked far more prepared. They weren’t just made up of furniture grabbed from nearby buildings or overturned trains; they were clearly portable defenses brought down from a military depot. One quick glance was all Dawes needed to see. We’re not taking that, he knew. Now without losing half my force!

The question was, what other options did he have? Quickly Dawes checked the map on his HUD as he searched for other options. The first thing he saw was that they couldn’t fall back to the station they’d just secured, the two platoons from C Company still there were coming under heavy attack from the Karacknids who were trying to push down into the station from the surface.

Whatever he was going to do, he knew it needed to be fast. If his force got bogged down, they would be quickly surrounded and trapped in the tunnels that were supposed to have been their safest route to the Palace. Think! Think, Dawes said to himself. When he expanded his map vertically a new idea came to him. We’re going up!

Chapter 40

After attaining flag rank and serving the minimum ten years on active commissions within the fleet, many senior officers chose to retire rather than return to Earth to serve behind a desk. Many have gone on to have significant impacts in the fields of politics, commerce, and science. However, when the call to return to active duty has come, they have always responded.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

"Hallock, hold position where you are. All companies, send your breaching teams to me. We’re going up right here," Dawes ordered. He then turned to Tasata-su. "Those defenders ahead will be expecting us. Can your warriors launch a diversionary attack? I don’t want them charging down the tunnel at us while we head up."

"Leave it to me," Tasata-su replied, giving Dawes a predatory smile.

With a command, Tasata-su led half his Karacknids forward. Moments later, marines with breaching charges began to congregate around Dawes. Quickly, he explained what he wanted from them, and they got to work. Dawes waited for the first sounds of fighting to echo down the tunnel, then he gave a hand signal to the senior demolitions expert and moved back. Seconds later, a series of explosions erupted from the roof of the tunnel as the first shaped charges detonated. Rubble poured down from the small hole cut into the ceiling. It was quickly moved aside by the marines as more charges were set. In just thirty seconds, a fifteen-meter hole was blown right up to the surface. As Dawes had planned, it opened up into an apartment block.

"Secure the building," Dawes ordered, even before the dust had settled from the final explosion. He then switched COM channels to instruct Tasata-su. "Cease the attack, General. Hold position where you are."

"As you command, Lieutenant Colonel," the Karacknid warrior responded.

As marines poured up the extendable ladders that had been set in place at the hole, Dawes focused on his HUD. Twenty-one minutes and thirty seconds had now passed since he had landed. The fleet now had just seventeen and a half minutes until it would have to break orbit. It’s going to be close, he feared. If not impossible. Instantly, he dismissed such thoughts from his mind. They weren’t going to make his battalion move any faster, so they were useless to him now. Instead, he marked out a route across the city to Clan Lord Karanta-su’s palace. It was the quickest he could find. As soon as the defenders learned he was out of the subway tunnels, they would guess his route, but he had to take the risk.

Once the apartment complex above him was cleared, Dawes moved up the ladder. He quickly reached a second-floor window and peered out across the city as the rest of his battalion moved up into the apartment complex. As he expected, the city was full of the sights and sounds of battle. Thousands of fires raged, sending plumes of smoke up into the air. In the air and on the ground, there was a near-constant barrage of flashes and concussion waves from explosions. The vast majority of the action was to the east of Dawes’ position. As he repositioned himself to look out a west-facing window, there were still plenty of fires but no signs of ground combat. No one has made it there yet, Dawes thought as his eyes settled on the palace. Its many high spires were now just two miles away. We’re close!

"We’re falling back now," Tasata-su informed Dawes.

"Spiers, have your platoons in the station fall back too," Dawes ordered. "Domingo, take point again. You have my route. It’s time to double-time it. Don’t stop for anything."

"Yes, Colonel," Domingo responded.

At once, A Company charged out of the apartment complex. They quickly moved along a street that led west for two blocks. Almost immediately, they came under attack from what appeared to be civilians. A few were armed with laser rifles or pistols, but the majority simply charged out of the nearest buildings when they saw the marines, claws extended, ready to do as much damage as they could. Domingo’s marines cut them down by the dozen without slowing, though marines fell too.

Then A Company came to a large public library. Dawes was right behind them with B Company as they entered. Immediately, a firefight broke out. At least a couple of platoons of Karacknid warriors had gathered in the library’s main foyer. Though they had heard the fighting outside, Domingo’s advance was so swift they weren’t prepared to come under attack. Grenades and plasma bolts took out half of the warriors before they realized what was happening. The rest put up a stronger resistance, but Domingo’s platoons quickly moved down the sides of the large foyer and flanked them.

“Get to the second-floor skywalk,” Dawes ordered Domingo. “Station firing squads at every access point to our route. B Company will take the lead from there.”

Expertly, Dawes’ marines pushed through the large multi-story library. As they did, they began to encounter groups of civilians sheltering in the building. For the most part, training the long nose of a plasma rifle on them kept them at bay, yet here and there a particularly foolhardy Karacknid male charged to his death. As Domingo’s marines secured their route through the library, B Company quickly began to pass them. Behind them came Tasata-su’s warriors, and C Company took up the rear.

“We’re in position and ready to proceed,” Hallock informed Dawes just sixty seconds after they had entered the library.

“Move out,” Dawes ordered.

At once, B Company hurled smoke and chaff grenades down the skywalk that spanned the street below and connected the library to a massive hospital. Without needing further orders, Hallock began posting squads of marines at each intersection his company passed through as they rushed through the hospital. This time, they were heading down. The hospital was connected via an underground access tunnel to a large administrative building. Dawes hoped the Yanum-mi wouldn’t suspect he knew about it.

Fighting broke out throughout the hospital, but the resistance was largely from civilians and was completely uncoordinated. With ease, Dawes’ force swept through the maze of corridors and rooms, quickly locating the stairs that led down to the access tunnel. “General, your warriors are up. Secure the next building, and then we’ll be in position to make our final attack.”

“As you command,” Tasata-su responded. Seconds later, his warriors let out a battle cry as they charged down the stairs and along the access tunnel. Their cries went unheard, though, for they didn’t encounter any resistance until they emerged within the heart of the administrative building. There, things turned bloody. According to Tasata-su’s intelligence, the five-story building served as the offices for many officials who ran the Yanum-mi Clan Lord’s miniature empire. They knew what it would mean for them if Karanta-su were killed, and as soon as they realized they were under attack, they fought back fiercely.

“Spiers, get up there and help them!” Dawes ordered as he watched Tasata-su’s warriors come under attack from all sides. The fight quickly turned into brutal hand-to-hand combat where claws sliced off limbs and ripped open torsos of both attacker and defender.

As Spiers' marines charged up out of the tunnel, Dawes went with them. Quickly, they moved up floor by floor, hitting the Free Karacknids’ attackers in the rear. The fighting was so close and intense that it was hard to tell friend from foe. Dawes shot two Yanum-mi at point-blank range; then, when another warrior charged him, he slammed a powerful punch into the warrior’s torso, uncertain which side the Karacknid was on. Only as the warrior was thrown back did Dawes see the markings on his armor. He sent four plasma bolts burning into the warrior’s cracked armor.

Within two minutes, the large, multi-story building was clear. Dawes made his way to a west-facing window. Careful not to focus straight out, he stood back far enough to see across the open square between his building and Palace. The low wall that ringed the palace grounds formed the far side of the square. Both the square itself and the Palace grounds were eerily empty. There was no sign of movement anywhere. They’re ready for us, Dawes guessed. He knew the Palace had at least six heavy laser cannon emplacements hidden behind closed hatches facing his direction. None of them were open, and he saw no sign of the one hundred Yanum-mi warriors who were supposed to guard the Clan Lord at all times.

Next, Dawes looked north and south, seeing no sign of fighting in either direction. Then he pulled up a map of the local area on his HUD. Two other battalions had been tasked with reaching the edge of the palace grounds. There was no sign of them on his HUD. They were meant to be keeping radio silence, but if they were in position, they would have flashed him. They must’ve been bogged down somewhere.

“My warriors are ready,” Tasata-su said as he stepped into the office Dawes was in and glanced at the Palace. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

“Hopefully, you’re about to get a closer look than this,” Dawes said. “The other two battalions aren’t in position yet.” He nodded towards the Palace. “I think they’re ready for us, though.”

Tasata-su studied the Palace for a second, then nodded. “They are. How much time do we have left?”

“It’s been twenty-eight minutes since we landed. So we have twelve to get in there and find him.”

“That’s not much time,” Tasata-su said. “And not if we don’t know how long the other battalions will be.”

Dawes checked the status of his three companies on his HUD. “I’m down to four hundred and eighty marines. How many warriors do you have?”

“Seventy-nine,” Tasata-su replied. “But it will be enough.”

“You want to try hitting the Palace by ourselves? We’ll be slaughtered,” Dawes protested.

Tasata-su nodded again. “We will take losses. But what other choice do we have? What are a few hundred soldiers compared to the fleet getting caught by Faran-su’s warships? This is why we are here, is it not?”

Dawes turned back to the Palace. Three battalions with a force of over fifteen hundred marines were supposed to attack it from three different angles. As soon as he made his move, every defender would turn their fire on his three companies. But what choice do I have? he thought, echoing Tasata-su’s question. He already knew the answer. His orders had been clear – they were to take Karanta-su at any cost. “And you’re sure he’ll still be there?” he found himself asking.

“He will not run; he cannot,” Tasata-su replied confidently. “No Clan Lord can flee from a threat to his own Palace.”

“Ok then, if we have to, we’ll go alone. But I need a second,” Dawes said to Tasata-su.

"You better be quick. As soon as they know we’re this close to the Palace, whatever artillery they have left will be directed at us," Tasata-su responded.

Dawes nodded. "Domingo and Hallock, get your companies ready to charge. Spiers, get into positions to lay down covering fire. Spread out from this building too, for it may come under fire soon," he said to his battalion. Then he switched his COM unit from short-range bursts to a planetary-wide frequency. He knew it was inviting attack, but it was likely already coming anyway, and he needed to know. "Orbital Command, this is Lieutenant Colonel Dawes," he said quickly. "Transmitting location and requesting update on the other two battalions of Operation Pincer."

"Dawes, this is General Johnston," his commander responded almost immediately. "The other two battalions have not broken radio silence. Our last contact indicated they’re both encountering serious resistance. If they’re not in position, it looks like you might be on your own."

"What about air support, General?"

"Negative, Colonel. Our fighters and shuttles can’t get anywhere near the palace."

"Understood, Dawes out." Knowing he only had seconds, Dawes didn’t waste any time. He peered toward the Palace, marking out firing lines for covering fire and assault lines for his companies on his HUD. Next, he designated the locations of known weapons emplacements as primary targets.

"Here are your orders," he said to his commanders as he made his way down to the ground floor of the administrative building where his companies had gathered. "C Company will lay down covering fire; everyone else is to make the main assault. We’ll take the outside of the palace and then blow our way in." Dawes waited a couple of seconds for his commanders to acknowledge his orders and relay them to their platoons, then gave the order to attack. "Go, go, go!" he ordered.

Immediately, hypervelocity missiles flashed out of several windows, streaking toward the palace. Hidden point-defense laser cannons shot down several, but at least five hit. A second wave followed a second later, taking out remaining targets. At the same time, smoke and chaff grenades filled the square in front of the administrative building. As soon as they exploded, the marines and Free Karacknids charged.

Breaking from cover, Dawes kept one eye on where he was going but also watched the live feed from nano-drones hovering above the battlefield on his HUD. A deadly firefight quickly erupted between C Company and the Yanum-mi at the palace. From hidden firing positions, Yanum-mi warriors unleashed streams of laser beams at the charging force. C Company responded in kind, suppressing the Yanum-mi fire with accurate plasma rifle shots where possible. For stronger defenses, hypervelocity missiles smashed into the palace. In turn, the Yanum-mi launched rockets down onto the charging marines and targeted the administrative building with artillery.

Dawes’ heart pounded as the chaos of the assault unfolded but he knew he could do nothing but keep on running as fast as he could. As the small wall marking the Palace grounds appeared out of the smoke, Dawes turned his full focus onto what lay ahead. A small jump took him over the wall, and he detached his last smoke and chaff grenades, flinging them several hundred meters ahead without breaking his stride. They and hundreds more like them exploded just in time, providing cover for the charging attackers.

With his vision severely limited, Dawes could only see several meters in front of him. What he could see was more than enough though. It seemed like everything around him was erupting as laser beams smashed into the ground at his feet. Larger explosions flung dirt and concussive waves against his armor. Though nothing hit him directly, he knew others weren’t being so lucky. Even with C Company’s suppressing fire, the Yanum-mi had to be cutting through his force.

Dawes didn’t have time to think about it though, for suddenly the dark shape of the Palace began to form in front of him. Quickly, his infrared sensors began to detect enemy firing positions. In a smooth motion, Dawes shouldered his plasma rifle and began to fire as he continued sprinting. He also started zigzagging, knowing that if he could see the enemy, they could likely see him. In quick succession, he shot down two Karacknid warriors firing from windows. Then he planted his feet and skidded through the gravel until his armor smashed into the palace wall, stopping him.

All around him, marines and Free Karacknid warriors came rushing out of the smoke and chaff. “Set the demolition charges!” Dawes ordered. He then sent a command to the nano-drones surrounding him to head into the Palace. By now, there were more than enough smashed windows and holes in the walls for them to find ways in and begin pinpointing the Yanum-mi warriors’ positions.

As the charges were set, Dawes checked on the status of his attacking force. His face fell at what he saw on his HUD. Less than two hundred marines had made it to the palace’s outer walls. He quickly leant out from the wall and looked up and down his force. He guessed he could see no more than fifty of Tasata-su’s warriors. Then he checked the first feeds coming from the drones. He shook his head. Too many! he feared. The drones showed the inside of the Palace was crawling with Yanum-mi warriors. The main entrance hall was the worst; at least fifty were set up in well-fortified positions, ready to gun down anyone who tried to rush them. In desperation, Dawes accessed the feeds from the drones above the Palace, ordering them to rotate and scan the palace perimeter in the hope that at least one of the other battalions was close. Yet, there was no sign of any other forces attempting to join him.

“How does it look in there?” Tasata-su asked as he suddenly appeared at Dawes’s side.

“Like Fort Knox!” Dawes replied.

“Fort what?” Tasata-su asked, a confused look crossing his face.

“Never mind. It looks bad,” Dawes said. “They have us outnumbered at least three to one. I don’t know if we have the strength to take it. But we’re going to have to try. If we don’t, everything we’ve done so far will be for nothing.”

Tasata-su smiled at Dawes in a way that made him frown.

“Don’t worry, Colonel, this is why I came. Blow the main doors into the Palace, but don’t blow anything else yet.”

“What? Why?” Dawes asked.

“I have a plan,” Tasata-su responded.

“What is it? This is my mission,” Dawes said quickly, feeling time slipping away. The longer he delayed, the more time he gave the enemy to prepare. As he spoke, his HUD flashed to let him know the breaching charges were all in place.

“I outrank you, Colonel, and I’m going to save your battalion from suffering any more losses. Remember the timetable we’re working to. We have no time to waste. So do as I say.”

Dawes stared at Tasata-su for a couple of seconds. He felt the need to know what the General’s plan was. How could he make a decision without knowing? But then, how could he disobey a direct order either? “Blow the main doors first,” Dawes told his demolition marines. “But be ready to blow the rest. Everyone, stand ready,” he told his battalion.

A second later, explosive charges smashed the thick, twelve-foot-high wooden doors leading into the Palace’s entrance hall. Dust and debris from the ruined pillars the doors had been attached to washed over Dawes’s position. As they cleared, Dawes saw Tasata-su walking slowly between the remnants of the ruined doors. As he did, he threw his laser rifle out in front of him, then held up his hands, his claws extended.

Dawes swore. What was he doing? His instinct was to shoulder-charge Tasata-su out of harm’s way. Yet the Yanum-mi didn’t fire on him. Instead, Tasata-su passed beyond the broken doors and out of sight. Dawes swore again and frantically pulled up the feed from one of the drones within the palace’s entrance hall.

Chapter 41

Though it is rare, and admittedly it may not help you pass your naval exams, the study of the Empire’s history shows us that there is a time for everything—even for disobeying your senior officer.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Dawes' eyes widened as the nano drones showed Tasata-su walking calmly into the Palace’s entrance chamber. Though he moved slowly, with every step taken deliberately, a calm serenity exuded from him. It looked more like he was a Clan Lord walking into his home than an enemy general presenting himself before his enemies. Yet that was exactly what was happening, for Dawes could easily see at least twenty laser rifles aimed at Tasata-su’s chest.

Despite the sounds of fighting still going on outside the Palace as C Company continued to exchange fire with the defenders, silence filled the entrance hall. Then Tasata-su stopped. He looked around at the warriors, some of whom had stood up from behind cover to get a better line of sight on him. He shocked the warriors again by actually smiling. Then he spoke.

"My brethren, you all know who I am. Some of your faces I even recognize, for you have served under my command in the past. Now, however, we serve two different masters. But I am still the warrior you once followed. If you doubt that, I have proven it once again. Here I stand, having fought my way across the capital city of our clan, and now I stand in the midst of the Palace of our Clan Lord.

"I am here to claim my birthright. I challenge Clan Lord Karanta-su to trava-klan. He was fooled by the fake god Taranaki into putting the glory of a false Imperator above that of the Karacknid people and the Yanum-mi Clan. Then, he joined our clan’s strength to that of Tanaka-lan, a bloodthirsty warlord who threw away much of our clan’s strength in a doomed attempt to get revenge on the Humans who showed us the lies Taranaki had deluded us with.

"Now, he has failed to protect our Clan’s chief world and even his own Palace from my forces and those of Imperator Somerville. I therefore challenge him to trava-klan. My grandfather served as Clan Lord and led our Clan to great heights. I will lead us there again." Tasata-su raised his hands and his voice. "So, Karanta-su, stop hiding behind your warriors and come out and face me."

Dawes held his breath. He knew enough about Karacknid culture to know Tasata-su’s request couldn’t be easily denied. Yet this wasn’t exactly normal. Tasata-su was fighting for an alien Imperator, and the Yanum-mi’s world was being invaded by an alien fleet. If Karanta-su wanted an excuse to just gun down his rival, what better one could he find?

As the seconds ticked by, Dawes' body tensed as he prepared to watch the General’s body be turned to goo by hundreds of laser beams. He then began to fear for his own force. It had to be only a matter of seconds before the Karacknids in the Palace got over the shock of the attack and began lobbing grenades down onto his marines. Out in the open, spread along the Palace’s outer wall, they were sitting ducks. How long before I order an attack? Dawes found himself asking. He knew blowing the other demolition charges would get Tasata-su instantly killed. But delaying could get all of his marines killed.

Dawes was so caught up in his own conflicting thoughts that he didn’t immediately notice a sudden change in the battlefield around him. It took nearly ten seconds for him to finally register what had happened. The Yanum-mi defenders in the Palace had stopped firing. While C Company’s marines continued to fire at anything they saw that moved, the Yanum-mi warriors had ceased.

"Colonel, they’re not firing back anymore," Captain Spiers said. "What do you want us to do?"

"Don’t fire unless they open fire again," Dawes found himself saying, though he had no idea if it was the right thing to do or not.

Then movement within the entrance chamber grabbed his attention. A Karacknid in a suit of armor even more ornate than Tasata-su’s opened a door on the ground floor and walked out to stand before him. Dawes shook his head at what he was seeing. The warrior was by far the largest Karacknid he had ever seen. No wonder he beat Tasata-su to become the next Clan Lord! Dawes thought. What was Tasata-su thinking?

The warrior who could only be Clan Lord Karanta-su stopped just a few feet away from Tasata-su, then smiled. “Cousin. You have finally come home. Once, a reunion would have been a happy occasion. Now you only bring shame with you. You’re nothing more than a plaything of some alien upstart. You disgrace every Yanum-mi who has ever called himself a warrior, and now, with this challenge, you dishonor our clan and every Clan Lord who has held this title. You don’t deserve the right to claim trava-klan.”

Karanta-su moved his head back and then spat at Tasata-su’s feet. He then smiled again. “However, I will accept. If for no other reason than that it will give me great pleasure to tear your head from your body and put an end to the disgrace you’ve become. We will make a great spectacle out of your death for all the Clan to enjoy. Choose your second, and we can put an end to this in the arena.”

“If you want to fight in the arena, I will not refuse,” Tasata-su said. “But first, you must immediately order Faran-su’s fleet to stop its advance and hold position.”

“Ha! Why would I do such a thing?” Karanta-su sneered.

“Because it is custom,” Tasata-su responded, looking past Karanta-su at his gathered warriors. “Or do you admit that you have accepted this challenge only to gain a strategic advantage on the battlefield? If so, then it is you who brings shame to the title of Clan Lord.”

“I do not fear your puny fleet,” Karanta-su replied.

“Then order Faran-su to halt and return to the position he held when I laid down my challenge, or fight here and now,” Tasata-su demanded. “I already have a second, and even though I have just fought my way across the city while you have sat comfortably in your palace, I am ready to face you right now.”

Karanta-su hesitated. Then, almost too quickly for Dawes to catch it, he glanced at his warriors. Though Dawes couldn’t read the expressions on their faces, he could guess what they were thinking. No soldier wanted to fight for a leader who wasn’t prepared to fight himself.

“Then we finish this right now,” Karanta-su said. “Daridi’an, you will be my second. We fight outside.”

Tasata-su gave him the smallest of bows. “This has been a long time coming, cousin.” Then he turned and marched back through the broken wooden doors. As soon as he stepped outside, he glanced at Dawes. “Colonel, leave your rifle and pistol and join me—you will be my second.”

Hesitating, Dawes looked down at the rifle in his hands. It felt like an extension of his body. I have no choice, he told himself. Turning, he tossed his rifle to the nearest marine and then pulled out his pistol and did the same. “What do you need?” he asked as he moved to follow Tasata-su as the General walked out to the middle of the open square in front of the palace’s main doors.

“Have some of your marines and drones record our fight,” Tasata-su responded. “Make sure it’s being transmitted live across the planet. Beyond that, if Karanta-su tries to use any kind of weapon, or if his second tries to intervene—kill them both.”

“Just like that?” Dawes asked. “You have seen the size of him, right?”

Tasata-su looked down grimly at Dawes. “I am well aware, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve also seen you wield that sword of yours.”

“And what if he kills you fairly? Then what? What happens to my marines?”

"Then you are all prisoners and will likely be put to death," Tasata-su said in a tone that sounded like he was describing the weather rather than the fate of hundreds of men and women. His eyes then sharpened as he held Dawes' gaze. "Whatever you do, don’t retaliate. If you kill Karanta-su after trava-klan, you will be breaking one of our most sacred traditions. All the clans and families that have sworn to Imperator Somerville will blame him, and they might abandon him."

Dawes swallowed. "Okay, I understand… I think." He didn’t like it one bit. It felt like he was back on the landing shuttle as it was coming under attack. His fate was out of his hands. "General," he suddenly said as Tasata-su started walking towards where Karanta-su now stood with his second.

Tasata-su only half turned. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Don’t lose!"

Tasata-su smiled. "I am fighting for my clan and my Imperator. I won’t."

As Tasata-su turned and kept walking, Dawes didn’t know whether to believe the General or not. He was so used to every Karacknid being supremely confident that he couldn’t tell if Tasata-su actually thought he was going to win. As Dawes' eyes moved from Tasata-su to Karanta-su, his fear for his battalion suddenly began to grow again. The closer Tasata-su got to his opponent, the larger Karanta-su appeared!

When they faced each other once again, Karanta-su was a full head above Tasata-su. A fight involves far more than size or strength, Dawes reminded himself. But it matters a lot in Karacknid fights, a small voice added. He had seen countless sparring sessions between Karacknids, and he knew the largest and strongest usually won. The sheer aggression in the Karacknid style of fighting meant whoever had the longest reach and hardest hit had a serious advantage.

As his own foreboding quickly rose, Dawes suddenly remembered the rest of his battalion. They were all watching the two Karacknids face off against one another. Quickly he activated his COM unit. "Whatever happens, hold your fire," he warned them. "This fight is sacred to them. If we intervene, even after it is over, we will be killing ourselves. Be prepared to surrender if Tasata-su loses."

"Are you sure?" Domingo asked him.

"Yes, no matter what!" Dawes emphasized. Then he also remembered Tasata-su’s other instruction. Activating his COM unit, he began transmitting the visuals his armor was recording, along with all the angles being sent to him by the recon drones hovering above the palace.

Unsurprisingly, his COM unit beeped at him within seconds. "Lieutenant Colonel, this is General Johnston. I have Admiral Somerville with me."

"What is going on?" Somerville’s impatient voice broke in. "What is Tasata-su doing?"

"I’m sorry, Admiral, I didn’t realize what he intended," Dawes said quickly. "He has challenged Karanta-su to trava-klan. They are about to fight."

Somerville swore. "I told him not to do this!… What happens if he loses?"

"I think the attack is over, Admiral. He said I would have to surrender my battalion."

"And probably our entire ground force!" Somerville said in disgust.

This time, Johnston let out a string of curses.

"What do you want me to do, Admiral?" Dawes asked tentatively, not used to such candor from his superior officers.

"Don’t do anything," Somerville responded. "There’s nothing you or I can do. Tasata-su has forced us all into this. Now it has to play out."

Dawes started to acknowledge Somerville’s order, but movement in front of him brought his attention back to Tasata-su. He and Karanta-su briefly bowed to one another. Then, like a flash of lightning, both sprang into action. Karanta-su leaped at Tasata-su, an arm slashing out in a sweep aimed at the General’s right leg. Tasata-su just managed to jink backward in time. He, in turn, tried to strike Karanta-su in the chest, but the Clan Lord was spinning away before Tasata-su’s blow could land.

Both took a couple of steps back from one another as they sized each other up, then charged again. Tasata-su deflected a blow as his claws smashed into Karanta-su’s. Then he ducked under a swipe from Karanta-su’s other arm. Dawes pumped his fist as he willed Tasata-su to rise up and slam his claws into Karanta-su’s stomach, but the Clan Lord was too quick. As Tasata-su rose, Karanta-su let the momentum from his missed swipe spin him around. As his back twisted toward Tasata-su, an armored boot came flying up and around, smashing into Tasata-su’s arm just as he was extending it toward Karanta-su.

Dawes winced as a sharp crack echoed around the open square and off the palace walls. Tasata-su jumped back, grabbing his right arm with his left. As he landed, his forearm wobbled in a way that told Dawes it was broken. Tasata-su tried to make a fist with his right hand, then gave up and pressed it tight against his side before looking up to face Karanta-su.

The Clan Lord was grinning. "That is only the beginning of what I will do to you."

Tasata-su grunted and then charged. Astonishingly quickly, he got up to full speed, then feinted a slashing attack with his left hand as he pulled back, only to drop to his knees far more nimbly than Dawes thought possible for the aging Karacknid. Karanta-su raised both his claws to fend off the strike, only to see Tasata-su slide under his defenses. The Clan Lord tried to spin away, but Tasata-su anticipated the pivot, and slashing out with his left hand, his claws connected with one of Karanta-su’s legs.

The Clan Lord’s armor held back the razor-sharp claws as they scraped down Karanta-su’s calf, but then one claw found a weakness. Immediately, the claw tore through and sliced deep into Karanta-su’s flesh. Karanta-su gasped as he spun away, blood splattering on the ground as Tasata-su’s claw was yanked out of his leg. Tasata-su tried to follow up his attack by charging again, but Karanta-su darted back too quickly. He didn’t even appear to be favoring his injured leg.

Dawes held his breath as both combatants circled each other. Both were now injured. Soon, they would begin to slow. He didn’t know how old either was, but he knew they were both over a hundred. While that wasn’t ancient for a Karacknid, it meant they were both well past their prime.

Without a battle cry or any other noise, they launched at each other again. Sparks flew as their claws grated together. No hits were scored, and their momentum carried them past one another. Immediately, both sprang at each other again. This time, they slowed as they approached and began to exchange blows.

Tasata-su deflected a strike aimed at his head. However, Karanta-su immediately followed up with a punch from his other hand. Tasata-su just managed to angle his shoulder enough to cause his opponent’s claws to glance off his armor. Then he kneed Karanta-su in the groin. The Clan Lord’s head flew forward, but it wasn’t in pain. Instead, his armored forehead smashed into Tasata-su’s nose. Another crack filled the courtyard as the force of the impact passed through Tasata-su’s nose guard and broke the bones beneath.

Tasata-su staggered back. Instinctively, his right hand came up to cover his face. Yet as he raised it, new pain shot up his arm from where it had been broken. This time, Karanta-su wasn’t satisfied with scoring just one more hit. As Tasata-su moved back, he rushed forward. In quick succession, he sliced at Tasata-su with his left and then right hands. Both connected. Claws ripped into Tasata-su’s right shoulder and then the left side of his chest. Dawes saw blood spray from both wounds.

Karanta-su laughed as he stepped back to compose himself. “You are finished!” he bellowed, then charged. Tasata-su took a half step back to give himself time to block the incoming attack. But then his momentum shifted. Just before Karanta-su pulled back his arms to strike, Tasata-su leaned forward and shoulder-charged him. Both Karacknids collided, losing their balance. Arms and legs kicked out at each other as they fell.

Instantly, the fight turned into a rolling, grappling wrestle to the death. Dawes took a half step forward, trying to get a better view. Grunts and gasps escaped the lips of both Karacknids as their claws sliced into one another. Karanta-su then let out a great bellow as he tried to shove Tasata-su off him. A deep gash along his cheek was bleeding profusely. Tasata-su lashed out with his broken arm. As his forearm entangled with Karanta-su’s, stopping the Clan Lord from shoving him off, the pain made Tasata-su scream.

However, even as immense pain rolled up his arm and into his right shoulder, Tasata-su’s scream turned into a roar. As he fell back down, his left arm shot out in front of him. His hand and claws were pointed straight down at Karanta-su’s chest. Desperately, Karanta-su tried to raise his hands to deflect the blow, yet Tasata-su’s broken arm did enough to slow him.

With a sudden, squishy thud, Tasata-su’s claws slammed into Karanta-su’s torso. With the full strength and weight of Tasata-su behind them, they instantly pierced through the Clan Lord’s armor. Each of the three, four-inch-long claws sank in right to Tasata-su’s knuckles. Karanta-su let out a wail of pain. Tasata-su then twisted his wrist. His claws sliced through Karanta-su’s chest in a circular motion, shredding his heart. Instantly, strength drained from Karanta-su’s muscles. His head fell back as his wail died on his lips.

Letting out a great groan, Tasata-su leaned on his broken arm against Karanta-su’s chest as he pushed himself upright. He whipped his claw out of Karanta-su’s chest and held it aloft, holding it just long enough for a single drop of his enemy’s blood to splash his forehead. Then he swept his claws down at Karanta-su’s neck. In one fell sweep, he severed Karanta-su’s head from his body. Tasata-su watched the head roll away, then gasped again as his broken arm gave out, and he collapsed on top of his dead cousin.

For a couple of seconds, silence filled the courtyard outside the Palace. Every Karacknid warrior and marine simply stared at the two mangled bodies lying as if they were embracing one another. Then Karanta-su’s second let out a snarl. Before Dawes realized what was happening, the second charged forward, his claws extended.

Dawes let out a snarl of his own when he saw the attack. “No, you don’t!” he bellowed as he leapt forward. Instantly, he had his short sword and nano-carbon knife in each hand. With every augmented muscle strained to its limit and every servo and motor in his combat armor pushed to the fullest, he bounded across the courtyard. He reached Tasata-su’s fallen body four strides before Karanta-su’s warrior did. Time felt like it slowed as he saw the surprise on the second’s face. Then Dawes was hurling his nano-carbon knife at the warrior’s face. The warrior just managed to get a clawed hand up in time to deflect it, but the knife was only meant as a distraction.

Lightning-quick, Dawes grasped his sword with both hands. Then, with all his strength, he brought it down in an overhead slash onto the warrior’s raised arm. The sword sliced through the warrior’s forearm armor like it wasn’t there, cleanly cutting off his hand. Dawes wasn’t finished yet. He stopped his sword mid-swing with the point of his blade aimed directly at the warrior’s heart. Then he thrust forward in a move that mimicked Tasata-su’s killing blow. His sword easily punched through the warrior’s armor, torso, and out his other side.

The force of Dawes’ thrust brought him face to face with his enemy. “You have no honor!” he shouted, glaring into the stunned look of his enemy. Then he whipped his sword out of the warrior’s chest and brought it back down to slice off the warrior’s head. For a couple of seconds, the body stood upright, then fell to the ground beside his head.

Dawes stared at the decapitated body and then slowly turned to look at his bloody sword, shocked by his own ferocity. Then Tasata-su groaned. In an instant, he was kneeling beside the torn-up Karacknid. “General, are you okay?” he asked as he turned Tasata-su slightly so he could see his face.

Tasata-su coughed up blood. His eyes fluttered open and then closed again. A moment later, they shot open fully. “Lean… me forw…” he croaked. Dawes understood. Tasata-su winced as Dawes supported his back and bent his torso upright, then he coughed several times, spraying more blood down his front. “Get me up,” he said a little more strongly.

Dawes hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Now!” Tasata-su said forcefully. “Before it is too late.”

Putting his arms under Tasata-su’s shoulders, Dawes lifted him as gently as he could. “Face the palace,” Tasata-su requested. “Are you still recording?” he asked once Dawes turned him.

“Yes, everyone on the planet can see and hear you,” Dawes answered.

Tasata-su lifted his shoulders and stood as straight as he could. He took a few ragged breaths that sounded painfully labored to Dawes’ ears, as though blood was filling his lungs. When the Karacknid General spoke, however, his voice was surprisingly clear and carried easily over to the mass of warriors who had come out of the Palace or were staring down from damaged windows.

“Warriors of the Yanum-mi Clan, my brothers. You have all witnessed trava-klan. Karanta-su is dead by my hand. I now claim what is rightfully mine. As your new Clan Lord, I order all Yanum-mi forces currently engaged in hostilities against Imperator Somerville’s forces to stand down. Lay down your weapons, and no harm will come to you. All warships in the system are also to fall back out of weapons range of Somerville’s fleet in orbit. Do this now or lose all honor. All who surrender will find a place in our clan. All who refuse will be banished and hunted down as traitors to our clan and the traditions of our species.”

The moment Tasata-su stopped speaking, silence once again engulfed the Palace and its grounds. No one moved. All the Yanum-mi warriors continued to stare at their dead Clan Lord and Tasata-su. All of Dawes’ and Tasata-su’s soldiers stared at the Yanum-mi, ready to open fire at any second. “Hold me up,” Tasata-su whispered through clenched teeth. Dawes covertly moved one of his hands behind Tasata-su to support him. “Lay down your weapons or dishonor your clan and your ancestors!” Tasata-su shouted, though he shook from the exertion.

Again, no one moved. Dawes prepared to give the order to open fire. Then one Karacknid stepped forward. Every marine turned their rifles toward him, and the tension skyrocketed. The Karacknid took a quick, nervous glance towards Dawes’ marines, then looked back at Tasata-su. Slowly, he lowered his laser rifle onto the ground, then fell to one knee and bowed his head to Tasata-su.

The warrior’s action broke the spell among his brethren. Swiftly, others stepped forward and began to put down their weapons. Initially, their movement made Dawes and his marines even more anxious. Only when laser rifles began to hit the ground in large numbers did they start to relax.

“You did it!” Dawes whispered to Tasata-su. “You did it!”

Tasata-su’s shoulders slumped. “Good. Now get me out of here before I die in front of my newly loyal subjects!” he managed to say.

Dawes sprang into action. “Get a medic over here!” he called to Tasata-su’s warriors. Then he opened a COM channel to orbit. “We need a medical shuttle down here immediately with a team that can treat Karacknids,” he demanded. “Hold on,” he said more gently as he felt Tasata-su slump against his chest. “Hold on.”

Chapter 42

Whilst James Somerville set a legacy of martial prowess for all the Emperors who would follow him, it was his son who set the example of how to handle the vast administrative demands of being Emperor.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial

“What is happening?” Jonathan demanded as he watched an aerial view of Tasata-su and Karanta-su crashing into one another. They were both rolling around on the ground, and he couldn’t tell who was winning.

“Changing view now,” Harte responded instantly.

Jonathan leaned forward. He guessed he was now watching through Dawes’ eyes. Yet he still couldn’t tell who was winning. Claws and blood were flying everywhere. In panic, he glanced at the chronometer on Imperial's main holo display. It was counting down to the point where his fleet would have to break orbit or be forced to fight Faran-su’s fleet. Just sixty seconds remained.

Jonathan felt torn in too many directions to think straight. He needed Tasata-su to win. He feared he couldn’t hold together the Karacknids sworn to him without the General. At the same time, he didn’t want to risk his fleet against Faran-su’s. If he ran now, though, and Tasata-su ended up winning, he would be inviting Faran-su to race into orbit, kill Tasata-su himself, and take his place. And every Karacknid on your side would think you dishonorable for running, Jonathan knew. Almost, it felt like it would be easier if Tasata-su were killed—as long as he was killed quickly. As soon as he thought it, Jonathan recoiled at himself.

Then Tasata-su brought an end to Jonathan’s dilemma. For a split second, Jonathan thought Tasata-su was done for as Karanta-su hefted him up into the air. But then Tasata-su came crashing down on top of his opponent and his claws sliced into Karanta-su’s chest. A second later, Karanta-su’s head went flying from his body. Despite the gore, cheers filled Imperial's bridge.

Jonathan’s hand tightened into a fist to pump the air, but then Tasata-su collapsed on top of Karanta-su’s body. Concern filled Jonathan. He leaned further forward in his command chair, trying to see if Tasata-su was moving. The bridge’s victory cheers turned to cries of alarm as Karanta-su’s second charged. Then Dawes was suddenly standing over Tasata-su, and the second’s head was rolling away toward where Karanta-su’s rested. Only when Dawes lifted Tasata-su up did Jonathan feel a measure of relief. His General wasn’t dead yet, though by the number of wounds with blood flowing freely from them, it looked like that was still a very real possibility.

Then Tasata-su shocked everyone as he shouted out his ultimatum to the Yanum-mi warriors in the palace and around the planet. More cheers filled the bridge when the warriors began to lay down their weapons. “Get a shuttle down to him immediately,” Jonathan ordered before Dawes made his request. “And get him back to his flagship at once. They’ll be able to look after him best.”

As a measure of tension drained from Jonathan’s body, he wanted nothing more than to slump back into his command chair and close his eyes. He was tired and angry at Tasata-su. The General had known he didn’t want him taking any risks, and yet he had done so anyway. But he had won. If the palace’s warriors had accepted him as their Clan Lord, then Jonathan was confident so would the rest of the planet. In a sense, they had done it. They had achieved what they entered Yanum-mi space to do.

However, Jonathan knew he couldn’t rest yet. He had another major problem looming over him. “Show me the Yanum-mi fleet,” he requested.

A second later, the image of Tasata-su disappeared, and Faran-su’s fleet filled the holo display. It was still accelerating towards Imperial.

“They won’t receive Tasata-su’s demand to surrender for another couple of seconds yet,” Rossi informed everyone.

But he has already seen his cousin’s death, Jonathan knew. And still he comes. “Signal Hawcrans with the gravimetric COM,” Jonathan requested. “Instruct him to prepare to engage the enemy.”

"Aye, Admiral," Rossi responded.

"Iso, have the fleet break orbit. Set us on an intercept course for Faran-su’s fleet. Begin launching all the fighters we’ve refueled. I want him to see we still have some teeth. This planet is ours now, and we are not going to give it up without a fight."

"Understood, sir," Iso replied before firing off a host of orders to Jonathan’s other officers.

Jonathan focused on the enemy fleet. He didn’t want to have to fight it. Faran-su’s warships were a massive enemy force. Even if he was confident of victory, he knew he would lose a significant number of his own ships and millions of their crews if it came to a battle. Yet Tasata-su had forced his hand. Just as Karanta-su hadn’t been able to abandon his clan’s capital world, Jonathan couldn’t abandon it now that it was Tasata-su’s. He also knew he had to fight Faran-su if he wouldn’t surrender. Far better we destroy his fleet now than he runs away with it and gives it to one of the other Clan Lords, Jonathan reasoned.

And we will destroy him, Jonathan assured himself. Hawcrans’ fighters had already decimated Faran-su’s, while Jonathan’s fleet had closed into phase cannon range of Yanum-mi’s orbital battlestations. Now Faran-su’s fleet was sandwiched between Jonathan’s and Hawcrans’ fleets. Together, both Allied fleets would be able to launch over twenty thousand fighters to hit Faran-su with their first salvo. Then, the Allies’ weight of numbers would finish the battle. Though if Faran-su focused all his fire on Jonathan’s fleet, Jonathan could lose as much as half of his warships. But that’s still better than being forced to chase Faran-su’s fleet halfway across Karacknid space, Jonathan reasoned. And he still might surrender yet, Jonathan reminded himself. Maybe you can even encourage him!

"Rossi, open a COM channel to Faran-su’s fleet," Jonathan requested, deciding he couldn’t make the situation any worse. "Admiral Faran-su, I’m sure you know who I am," he began quickly. "As Clan Lord Tasata-su is one of my closest advisers, and as his Imperator, I speak on his behalf. Surrender now, and I give you my word you will retain command of your fleet. You will then have ample opportunity to serve your new Clan Lord and your clan, and win more honor for yourself and for them. On the other hand, if you refuse to surrender, you’ll find yourself at war with your own clan. Neither I nor Tasata-su wish to see that. The Gal-tak and Dar’kanan clans have already recognized me as their rightful Imperator. Now, so too will your clan. Do not betray your own people by fighting me."

"Message transmitted, Admiral," Rossi said a moment after Jonathan finished speaking. "They should receive it in sixteen seconds."

When the sixteen seconds came and went with no response, Jonathan felt the tension around him begin to rise. All of his officers were hoping to avoid a fight. He felt the same. On paper, surrender seemed the only viable option for Faran-su. Yet Jonathan knew Karacknid pride was a powerful force—potentially far more powerful than the combined Allied fleets’ warships.

Harte was the first to spot the change. "Look!" he called out. "They’re decelerating."

Jonathan was shocked. He had hoped, but he hadn’t truly believed. Even as he watched the massive Yanum-mi fleet begin to slow, his eyes narrowed. Is he trying to find a way to slip past us, or fight one of our fleets by itself? Jonathan asked himself. Yet as he studied the holo display, he couldn’t see any tricks Faran-su might be thinking of trying.

Then a message came through from Faran-su’s flagship. "Admiral Somerville," Faran-su said, giving Jonathan a very slight bow. "It seems circumstances have moved beyond my control. I confess I do not like what I have just witnessed. Yet trava-klan has occurred, and the title of Yanum-mi Clan Lord has rightfully passed to Tasata-su. I will honor that, though that does not mean I will honor the oaths Tasata-su has given to you. I must speak with him first and understand all that is going on here. For now, however, I will honor my cousin’s request and bring my fleet to a halt. You fought a masterful campaign, looping your fleet around mine and striking at Tarfan before I could catch you. It brings me no shame to surrender to you." As he finished, Faran-su gave Jonathan a slightly deeper bow.

"I accept your surrender and will arrange a shuttle to take you to speak with Clan Lord Tasata-su as soon as he is able," Jonathan replied, doing his best to hide his surprise at the turn of events. "To respect your honor, I will send officers and warriors from the Gal-tak and Dar’kanan Clans to secure your ships. Your commanders and crews will remain in control, but my people will ensure they honor the terms of your surrender."

"That is most gracious, Admiral," Faran-su said. "My fleet will wait here until you can send over your people."

"Until we meet in person," Jonathan replied, giving the Karacknid Admiral a bow typically reserved for an Imperator’s closest allies. He hoped Faran-su understood the gesture. Certainly, the Admiral seemed more amenable than Jonathan could have hoped.

For several seconds, no one on the bridge spoke after the exchange ended. Everyone continued to watch Faran-su’s fleet as it slowed. Like Jonathan, they wanted to be sure the surrender was truly real.

"What now?" Harte eventually asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

"What now?" Jonathan repeated, turning the question over in his mind. "Now, we have more work to do than any of us can probably imagine." He gestured toward Faran-su’s fleet. "We have the surrender of thousands of ships to secure." Jonathan then nodded toward the planet below. "Not to mention an entire planet of Karacknids... And the thousand other systems within Yanum-mi territory. We need to get them all under our control before they have a chance to start questioning Tasata-su’s authority."

Heads around Jonathan nodded in understanding, though only Iso seemed to fully grasp the magnitude of what he was saying. They’ll all soon know, Jonathan thought. He took a deep breath to prepare himself, then he began issuing orders. They needed to get started at once.

*

IS Imperial, Tarfan Orbit, 12th June 2515 AD, (one month later).

The next month of Jonathan’s life made the immense amount of paperwork and decisions he had faced after conquering the Gal-tak and Dar’kanan clans seem like nothing. The Yanum-mi clan was far larger than both clans combined. They controlled more systems, had a bureaucracy an order of magnitude greater, and had twice as many families sworn to them. With the surrender of Faran-su’s massive fleet, there were also thousands of senior officers and millions of warriors to vet to ensure they could be trusted. While Scott, Reverus, Shraw, and Hawcrans oversaw the Allied fleet, Jonathan had to devote all his time to managing his newly acquired clan.

The first two weeks were the worst, as with Tasata-su severely injured, almost everything fell on Jonathan’s shoulders. Eventually, though, Tasata-su recovered enough to begin shouldering some of the burden. The General quickly demonstrated himself to be as adept an administrator as he was a military commander. Jonathan soon found himself envious of his subordinate’s ability to navigate so effortlessly between the worlds of politics and the military.

Feeling a level of exhaustion he had never experienced before, Jonathan stepped up to the podium in Imperial’s main briefing room. While he was still in the midst of consolidating his position and securing Tasata-su’s hold on the Yanum-mi, Kalassai long-range scouts had brought him urgent news. Though he felt he needed another month—or preferably two—to fully stabilize the situation, events were forcing his hand.

For a moment, Jonathan looked around at all the officers watching him expectantly. The briefing room was packed with flag officers. Beyond Jonathan’s senior staff, there wasn’t a single officer below the rank of commodore, and even then, most commodores would need to wait for the second briefing Jonathan had scheduled to follow this one.

Jonathan allowed himself a brief smile as his gaze passed over Georgia and Scott. Seated next to them were Shraw, Reverus, and Hawcrans. Then he nodded toward Tasata-su and Faran-su, who sat beside one another. To their mutual surprise, their childhood rivalry had evolved over the past month into genuine respect. After meeting with Tasata-su, Faran-su had sworn loyalty to him as his new Clan Lord. Initially, however, he had refused to swear any oaths to Jonathan as Imperator. Yet, within a week, Tasata-su had somehow persuaded him to acquiesce. Faran-su’s acceptance of the new status quo had triggered a chain reaction among many leaders within the Yanum-mi clan, many of whom now filled Imperial’s briefing room.

“Thank you all for coming,” Jonathan began, knowing this would be the most important briefing of his life. “Together, we command eighty thousand warships. We wield one of the most powerful fleets in the entire galaxy. And as many of you know, I have gathered this fleet for one purpose.”

With a tap on the podium’s control panel, Jonathan projected a star map of the central Karacknid systems. “To take and hold Gayla.”

Pausing, Jonathan looked up at the map showing Gayla and its surrounding systems. Within the Karacknid Empire, they were known as the Imperator Sector. Not owned by any clan, the sector was ruled instead by the Praetorian Guard. As the Imperator’s personal army and navy, the Praetorian Guard protected the throne world of the Karacknid people. Only an Imperator recognized by all the clans could be welcomed into the Gayla system.

Jonathan had always known he would have to defeat the Praetorian Guard fleets protecting Gayla and its approaches. However, events were moving faster than he had anticipated.

“Holding Gayla will give final legitimacy to my claim as Tanaka-lan’s successor. Just as importantly, holding it will ensure no other false claimant can crown himself Imperator,” Jonathan said firmly, his voice cutting through the room. He gestured toward his senior officers seated before him. “As much as we might like to conquer all the Karacknid clans, none of us has the strength to achieve that. But we can take and hold Gayla. That will stop the other clans from uniting against us and give us the breathing room we need to rebuild our economies, fleets, and civilizations.”

Jonathan nodded toward Tasata-su. “Bringing the Yanum-mi Clan, and its fine officers and fleet into our alliance was the final hurdle we needed to overcome before moving on Gayla. Ideally, I had hoped we would have at least three months to prepare our invasion. However, that luxury is no longer available to us.”

With another command, Jonathan updated the star map. It zoomed out to show the entire Karacknid Empire, with the territories of its fourteen different clans clearly marked. The Gal-tak, Dar’kanan, and Yanum-mi clans’ space was shaded blue. The clan to the west of Dar’kanan space and two clans to the east of Gal-tak space were marked in green, while the rest of the map was filled with three different shades of red, denoting the remaining clans.

“As you know, we have destroyed the fleets of, or heavily raided the systems of the Das’tana, Tars’tazan, and Uemi’ta clans. They are therefore no immediate threat to us. The remaining eight clans have formed at least three factions, backing three different Clan Lords who claim to be Tanaka-lan’s true successor. The two most powerful are Clan Lords Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa. Their territories border one another, and there has been much fighting between their factions.”

Jonathan’s voice grew more serious as he continued. “However, that has now changed.” Again, he altered the map, this time highlighting two large fleets positioned in Sar-tum and Jas-sov space, both clearly oriented toward Gayla. “A couple of hours ago, a long-range Kalassai scout returned from observing the fighting between Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa. They brought grave news. It seems Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa have made peace. Both are now rushing their fleets south.”

“Tasata-su, Faran-su, and I believe they have guessed our intentions. They can only be heading south to reinforce Gayla. We do not know if they have made peace with one another and agreed that one of them should be Imperator, or if they are simply working together temporarily to prevent us from taking Gayla. Either way, it does not matter. Combined, they command at least as many warships as we do. If they join their strength with the fleets of the Praetorian Guard, we will stand no chance of taking Gayla.”

Jonathan’s hand tightened into a fist, and he struck the podium for emphasis. “We must therefore set off north immediately so that Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa cannot get there ahead of us. We must beat them to Gayla and conquer it before they can stop us.”

Pausing to compose himself, Jonathan continued. “We have already put together an initial plan for our journey north and assault on the Imperator Sector. However, the finer details will have to be worked out as we move. There is no time for any detailed planning. We must move north as fast as we can, with as many ships as we can. We have no other choice.”

Jonathan held the gaze of all his officers, his eyes moving across the room as he let the weight of his words sink in. Then, with a nod to Scott, he stepped aside to let her give a quick briefing.

As Scott spoke, Jonathan barely listened. His mind was already racing north, focused on Gayla. He had to get there first. Anything less meant the failure of his entire invasion. If Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa reached Gayla before him, they would be able to reinforce its defenses and repel his attacks. Worse, they could threaten Yanum-mi space and put him on the defensive.

When concentrated, the eighty thousand warships he had gathered were a deadly force. But if he had to spread them out to defend the Yanum-mi’s northern systems, their combat effectiveness would evaporate.

You managed to reach Gayla and break through its defenses, Father. I know I can too! Jonathan thought resolutely. We just have to be fast!

Chapter 43

Historians split the Second Karacknid War into two phases: Tanaka-lan’s attempted invasion of Earth and the Allies’ counter-invasion of the Karacknid Empire. However, there are many other smaller phases that deserve as much recognition. By itself, a careful study of the numerous battles involved in the invasion of Praetorian space reveals many critical lessons and tactics for an aspiring naval commander.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, 3rd July 2515 AD, (three weeks later).

“Hail them,” Jonathan ordered as his mighty fleet neared missile range.

“Channel open, Admiral,” Rossi informed him.

“Praetorian Guard fleet, I am Imperator Somerville. My father killed Imperator Tanaka-lan in trava-klan, and I am his heir. With me are the Clan Lords of the Gal-tak, Dar’kanan, and Yanum-mi clans. I come to claim my rightful seat on Gayla. Join me and acknowledge me as your rightful Imperator.”

“They just powered up their targeting sensors to full,” Harte informed Jonathan.

“Detecting fighter launches,” another sensor officer added.

“Well, I think they’ve given us their answer,” Matthis said dryly.

“Indeed,” Jonathan responded. He wasn’t the least bit surprised. None of the Praetorian Guard fleets guarding the systems south of Gayla had responded to the scout ships he had sent ahead of his fleet with messages for them. But it was worth a try, Jonathan thought. Now he would feel no guilt, and neither would the Karacknids sworn to him.

“We will open fire as soon as we enter maximum range. Hold us in position there until it is over,” Jonathan instructed. “Wing Commander, none of those fighters are to break through.”

“I understand, Admiral,” Georgia said from her Talon. She and forty thousand fighters were currently arrayed just above and ahead of the Allied fleet.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to hit the enemy fleet once we have dealt with the fighters?”

“Negative, Wing Commander. I want your force intact for Gayla. But don’t worry, your skills won’t go to waste when we get there,” Jonathan replied.

“Understood, Admiral,” Georgia said.

“Enemy fighters are boosting out of orbit,” Harte updated.

“I see them,” Georgia responded. “Moving in.”

On the holo display, Georgia’s wing quickly began to boost ahead of the Allied fleet.

“Firing,” Harte announced just a minute later.

Jonathan watched the 3D holographic representation of his fleet as it opened fire. He had seventy-six thousand warships in a tight formation around Imperial. Together, they flung two point six million missiles into space. It was an awe-inspiring sight to behold. Every one of them set off toward the Praetorian Guard fleet defending their border fort.

The enemy force consisted of just five thousand warships, all huddled around two large and impressive looking battlestations. When they returned fire, they launched two hundred thousand missiles. Ordinarily, it would have been an impressive salvo—but not today.

As both salvos closed with and then passed one another, the difference in their numbers became even more apparent. For a handful of seconds, Imperial’s sensors couldn’t even detect the enemy missiles, so strong were the gravimetric waves given off by the Allied missiles.

Before the salvos reached their targets, Georgia’s fighters intercepted the four thousand Karacknid fighters trying to reach Jonathan’s ships. Anti-fighter missiles decimated the enemy numbers. Then, as both groups of fighters briefly blasted away at one another, Georgia’s pilots proved their superior skill. Not a single Praetorian Guard fighter survived the encounter.

The Praetorian Guard missiles barely fared any better. Twelve managed to survive the massive weight of Allied defensive fire. Shields and valstronium armor absorbed most of their explosive force, and only three ships were destroyed.

In contrast, the Praetorian Guard fleet was brutalized by the massive Allied salvo. Their defensive fire was hopelessly outmatched. Well over a hundred thousand missiles burst through their fire and began exploding amongst the defenders’ formation. Two-thirds of the battlestations and half of the Praetorian Guard ships were taken out of the fight. Five minutes later, long before the Praetorian Guard commander could rearrange what was left of his force to mount an effective defense, Jonathan’s second salvo struck home. Not a single enemy ship survived.

Jonathan waited until the last of just seven missiles from the enemy’s second salvo exploded amongst his fleet, then he began giving out new orders.

“Iso, begin SAR operations. Detach any damaged ships that can’t keep up with the fleet and send them back to Tarfan. Then set course for the northern shift passage. Harte, target every orbital station that looks like it could be used for a military purpose. Take them all out. We don’t have time to capture them, and I’m not leaving them behind to be used by any enemy formations trying to work their way around behind us. Rossi, hail my senior commanders.”

“Aye, sir,” Iso said on behalf of Jonathan’s officers.

A moment later, Jonathan was looking at small holographic representations of his senior commanders.

“That was a waste. They all died just to kill a handful of our ships,” Hawcrans commented. “They should have surrendered.”

“They should have,” Shraw agreed. “But they almost never do. Karacknid pride.”

“Pride and honor,” Faran-su corrected. “They died honorably for a cause they thought was right. Though I concede, their deaths accomplished little.”

“They cost us over five million missiles,” Scott pointed out. “Missiles we cannot easily replace.”

“And yet they had to be destroyed,” Jonathan said. “We could not leave them in our rear. Nor can we allow the other nearby fleets to combine against us. If they manage that, they could hit us just as we move on Gayla. Now that we know they intend to resist us, I am going to split the fleet.”

With a tap on his command chair’s console, he sent the orders he had already written up to his commanders.

“Hawcrans and Faran-su will detach their forces and hit these two border fort systems,” Jonathan continued. “The rest of us will continue north and secure the Dantese, Farson, and Hatraas systems. From Hatraas, we will jump into Gayla. I expect both of you to have rejoined us by then.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Hawcrans responded.

“As you command, Imperator,” Faran-su said with a bow.

“If the other Praetorian Guard fleets are wise, they will fall back to Gayla. But if they refuse to give ground, destroy them. Far better we do so now than have to fight them all concentrated.”

“They will not fall back,” Tasata-su said, and Faran-su nodded. “To give ground to someone they consider a false Imperator, especially an alien, would be blasphemous in their eyes. They will fight to the end rather than shame themselves in such a way.”

“Then they will fight and die,” Jonathan said harshly. “We do not have time to play games with them, but nor can we risk leaving them in our rear.” Almost, it felt wrong to inflict such a slaughter upon them. Jonathan had already done a rough mental calculation. In the space of just over five minutes and with only two salvos, he had killed over two hundred thousand Karacknids. He took no delight in such actions. But he would not shy away from them either. “We must get to Gayla, and so they must die. Take out the Praetorian Guard fleets if they are still there, and if not, rejoin me all the sooner.”

Both Hawcrans and Faran-su gave Jonathan a small bow. Jonathan nodded to them and then ended the COM call. On the main holo display, thirty-four thousand warships split into different groups and began to move away from the main Allied fleet, which itself was turning onto a heading north, away from the now-ruined fleet base and towards the next shift passage. It has begun, Jonathan thought to himself. Eleven months had passed since he first led his fleet across the borders of the Karacknid Empire. But now the final stage has begun. Either we take Gayla, or everything else has been for nothing!

*

IS Imperial, 15th July 2515 AD, (twelve days later).

As it turned out, Tasata-su and Faran-su had only been partly right in their predictions about the Praetorian Guard fleets’ willingness to stand and fight. After their first one-sided defeat, the Praetorian Guard changed tactics. They didn’t give an inch of ground to Jonathan’s advancing fleets, yet they did not simply sit still and wait, either. To say they put up a fight was an understatement. For ten days, Jonathan and his admirals fought a series of running battles against a force of at least twenty thousand enemy warships.

Each time Jonathan or one of his admirals tried to advance, blocking forces would appear to hamper his screening squadrons. Yet when the Allied fleets tried to bring overwhelming force against their opponents, the enemy would fall back and scatter. More than once, Praetorian Guard fleets also tried to pass between the Allied fleets and get into the Allies’ rear. They were stopped each time, but at a higher cost in ships and time than Jonathan would have liked.

However, despite the enemy’s resistance, Jonathan slowly but surely took each of the three key systems he needed in order to reach Gayla. As a tremor ran through his command chair, signaling Imperial had exited shift space into the outskirts of the Karacknid species’ homeworld, a weight lifted from his shoulders. We have arrived, Jonathan thought. At last!

As Imperial’s passive sensors began filling the holo display with contact reports and images of the system’s defenses, a different pressure quickly built within Jonathan. For the first time, he was looking at the monumental task ahead of him with his own eyes. The first two points that began to populate with military targets were the two massive forts protecting the approaches to Gayla. Looking at them, Jonathan realized they were a copy of the ones his father had built to defend Beta Fort. Jonathan was certain that if he were alive Tanaka-lan would never admit it, but it was unmistakably clear to his trained eye.

Which means they have developed long-range multistage missiles, Jonathan concluded. All of the intelligence he had received from the three clans sworn to him had insisted that each fort’s main offensive capability was the fighters within their hangars. They were designed to launch repeated fighter strikes against any fleet that tried to bypass them and rush Gayla. But looking at their positions now, Jonathan knew more was going on.

Neither fort was built around a planetary body. Instead, they were in extremely high orbit around Gayla. That meant they could move around the planet and reposition themselves to face incoming threats. Until just a few days ago, both forts had kept their distance from one another, but now they had been moved much closer. Jonathan could only see one reason for that. Tanaka-lan kept their capabilities secret even from his clans, Jonathan guessed. Given how many he fought in his quest to become Imperator, that wasn’t too surprising. But it can’t be hidden from someone who knows what they are looking at.

Even as he recognized what he was seeing, Scott’s holographic face appeared in front of him as she activated the senior commanders' COM channel. “Those forts can support one another,” she said. “They must have multistage missiles.”

“I concur,” Shraw said. “They are a copy of the ones we built to defend our borders.”

“Are you sure?” Faran-su asked. “I have never heard of us possessing such a weapon. Yes, we have the capability. But no Imperator or Clan Lord deemed the development of such weapons to be of any serious use. Not when we are the ones who should be on the offensive.”

“And yet your people are clearly not against building defenses,” Reverus pointed out. “Look at Gayla itself.”

“Tanaka-lan built the forts, didn’t he?” Jonathan asked, though he already knew the answer to the question.

“He did, Imperator,” Tasata-su answered.

“And he fought my father several times during the first war. He knew my father was no fool, but if he copied him, Tanaka-lan would have kept it a secret. Those forts are equipped with long-range missile launchers. I grew up watching our forts being built. I know what I am looking at.”

“If you say so, Imperator, then that must be what they are,” Faran-su responded. “What are we to do about them?”

Jonathan took a moment to think. Initially, his plan had been to simply rush each fort one at a time. By destroying each fort’s hangars, he would force the fighters to come out and engage his fleet or risk losing their ability to fight altogether. Then, if the Praetorian Guard fleet came out to aid their forts, he would be able to destroy them instead. However, now things were more complicated. They’ll be able to keep hitting us until we get into range with our missiles. But what other choice do we have? Jonathan asked himself.

This was why his father had designed the forts the way he had. Unless Jonathan was prepared to rush Gayla and suffer a constant barrage of missiles striking his flanks throughout the battle, he had to take the forts first. And Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa could arrive at any time. It had been two weeks since he had received any updates on the progress of the two Clan Lords’ fleets as they moved south through their territories. Jonathan was still haunted by the fright Faran-su had given him when he had jumped his fleet almost on top of Jonathan’s own. Jonathan had vowed never to let himself be lulled into a false sense of security again.

“We stick to our original plan,” Jonathan said as he looked from Faran-su to his other officers. “We’re going to take more losses, but we need to take Gayla before the other Clan Lords get here. The forts must be destroyed before we can lay siege to Gayla, and we need to begin the siege as soon as possible. So, we advance.” Jonathan glanced at the holo image of the system. “We will take the eastern one first, then swing around the system’s fifth planet and take the western one. After that, we’ll move on Gayla.”

Heads in front of Jonathan nodded. Jonathan turned to Iso. “Take the fleet in,” he ordered.

As Imperial powered up her reactors and engines began to surge with energy, Jonathan worked with his senior officers as they studied the two forts and the rest of Gayla’s defenses. In low orbit around the Karacknid homeworld, two thousand of the most impressive battlestations Jonathan had ever laid eyes on stood ready to defend Gayla. Each was capable of launching a salvo of four hundred missiles. And some may have long-range launchers like the forts, Jonathan thought grimly. That would complicate my plans for the planet’s defenses.

Among the battlestations sat eighteen thousand warships. If they come out to engage us as we take the forts, they will be able to do some serious damage, Jonathan quickly concluded. But they’ll be taking a risk if they try it. Of course, knowing how Karacknid commanders thought, Jonathan knew that wouldn’t deter them.

Once he was satisfied that there were no immediate signs of hidden ships or minefields in and around Gayla, Jonathan fixed his attention on the two forts. Each had several hundred large battlestations and a thousand warships protecting the many hangars that dominated their structure. Harte’s analysis suggested they housed at least fifteen thousand fighters. They would cause serious damage if they got among Jonathan’s ships.

As he studied the enemy’s defenses, Jonathan put himself in the mind of his opponent. With two forts, their fighter wings, and a fleet of eighteen thousand warships—which likely had their own powerful fighter wing—the enemy commander had a lot of forces to play with. The question was, how was he going to use them?

Jonathan played out several different scenarios in his mind and quickly devised counters to them all. Then he discussed these strategies with his senior commanders.

For over an hour, discussions went back and forth as the fleet moved deeper into the system and prepared itself for battle. Ahead of Jonathan’s main group of seventy-four thousand warships, six thousand spread out in small squadrons and flotillas, scouring the system for hidden dangers. While this unfolded, the Praetorian Guard forces did nothing but flood the space ahead of Jonathan’s fleet with active and stealth recon drones. Most were intercepted by Jonathan’s screening forces, but inevitably, some got through, giving the enemy a clear picture of the size and strength of his fleet.

Only once Jonathan’s ships were fully committed to attacking the eastern fort did the Praetorian Guard forces begin to react. Both forts launched all their fighters as the eighteen-thousand-strong fleet of warships began to break orbit from Gayla. Quickly, they settled onto headings that made their intentions clear.

“They’re going to try hitting us all at once,” Shraw said. “Just as we enter range of the first fort with our missiles.”

“And from three different angles,” Jonathan added. It was one of the oldest Karacknid tactics. They loved forcing an opponent to split their defensive fire. “But this is what we expected. So, let’s make the most of it. Wing Commander, begin scrambling your fighters. Let’s start taking some of their forces off the board.”

Less than a minute later, hundreds of Allied squadrons began launching from their carriers. Then the Allied fleet came into range of the first fort’s long-range missile launchers. Contact alarms blared as four thousand missiles hurtled toward Imperial and her consorts. Jonathan felt a strange calmness wash over him despite the forces arrayed against him. His father had been here once before. Now it was his turn – the Second Battle of Gayla had begun.

Chapter 44

Over the last five hundred years, a constant arms race has played out between the designers of warships and planetary defenses. The latter have always been at a disadvantage, for an enemy can always get around even the most sophisticated of defenses by bringing superior numbers. That doesn’t mean, however, that the naval architects who design our battlestations and defenses haven’t played critical roles in several of our most important battles.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

“We’re still forty-seven minutes out of missile range from the first fort,” Harte reported as he analyzed the incoming long-range missiles. “If they can match the fire rate of their standard missiles, we’ll have to face nine salvos from this fort.”

“And we should come into range of the second in eight minutes,” Iso added. “So that will be seven from them until we reach the first fort. And then another ten until we get out of range again.”

Jonathan nodded. It was far from ideal. But that was exactly the kind of problem the massive missile launchers of the forts were designed to create for an attacker. “Then we will just have to deal with them. Split up our specialist anti-missile ships and send them out along the two trajectories the missiles will be coming in on. Pull them back if enemy fighters get close or once we close with their first fort.”

In response to his orders, several thousand drone cruisers and PD frigates moved ahead of the fleet and prepared to thin out the incoming long-range missiles. Jonathan watched them and the first incoming salvo closely. As he suspected, when the enemy multistage missiles approached his fleet, they suddenly broke apart. Where there had been just one warhead, there were now eight. Each one began to accelerate faster and appeared nimbler. Twenty-four thousand missiles was still a small number for a fleet of his size to face, but once the other fort’s fire joined the fight, it would become harder to fend off both coordinated attacks.

And they are both just meant to be a distraction, Jonathan knew as he checked in on his sister. Thirty thousand fighters, fifteen thousand from each fort, were charging to attack his fleet in tandem with the first standard missile salvo the eastern fort could fire in coordination with the Praetorian Guard fleet. The Praetorian fleet hadn’t launched any fighters yet, suggesting they wanted to keep them in reserve. That made sense, for if they sent all their fighters against Jonathan’s ships, he intended to send Georgia after theirs. Yet their warships were maneuvering to be able to fire at least once at Jonathan just as he began assaulting the fort and in coordination with the forts’ fighters.

“Everything is going to play out pretty quickly once we come into range. So keep your wits about you,” Jonathan cautioned his officers. “Harte, unless they veer off, I want us to turn towards the Praetorian fleet for our first salvo. We’ll send them packing and then focus our fire on the fort.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Harte responded.

“Iso, you are in charge of our defensive fire. Focus on any fighters that get through. They are the biggest threat.”

“Yes, sir,” Iso said with a nod. “What about our reserve fighters?”

Jonathan glanced at the Praetorian fleet. There was still no sign that they had launched their fighters. Nor had any fighters been detected launching from the hangars in orbit around Gayla. But they could have slow-launched them and be trying to sneak them into attack range. In his opponent’s position, Jonathan would only attempt such a move if he was going to commit the Praetorian fleet to a fight to the death. At the moment, it looked like that was not the enemy’s plan, for the Praetorian fleet’s momentum meant their ships and Jonathan’s would quickly pass one another. Yet Jonathan couldn’t rule anything out just yet.

“We hold them in reserve,” he decided. “And let’s double the active drones we have watching the approaches from the Praetorian fleet and Gayla. If there are any more enemy fighters out there trying to close with us, we need to find out about them as soon as possible.” Jonathan did some quick mental calculations. He reached out and tapped an area of the holo display. “If we haven’t detected any additional enemy fighters by the time we pass here, then we can launch our reserve fighters. They are to engage any enemy fighters that get past Georgia.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes,” Iso assured him.

“Enemy missiles incoming,” Harte called out.

Everyone stared at the main display as the fleet’s screening forces opened fire on the missiles. Tens of thousands of laser beams and other energy weapons targeted the Praetorian missiles. Many were successful, but Imperial’s sensors detected sixteen thousand missiles passing through Jonathan’s screening ships. Then the main Allied fleet opened up on them.

Coordinating the Allied defensive fire was a difficult task due to the six different point-defense weapon systems and their many variants within the fleet. However, when done right, the combined firepower was devastating.

First, flak cannons and arc emitters targeted specific zones of space the enemy missiles had to pass through. Dense clouds of shrapnel and expanding balls of electricity destroyed almost every enemy missile in each zone. Other Allied weapons filled the remaining areas of space with laser beams and plasma bolts. AM missiles and electromagnetic cannons then targeted the survivors.

Just a couple of hundred missiles made it anywhere near the Allied fleet. However, as they entered range of the Kulrean worldships’ rapid-fire laser cannons, they disappeared from Imperial’s holo display almost instantly. Each of the three hundred worldships still in the Allied fleet carried forty of these cannons, firing an almost continuous stream of beams.

“Well, that was a letdown,” Faran-su said over the commander’s COM channel from his flagship.

“Do not be so sure,” Jonathan cautioned. “Facing one attack has let us warm up our weapons and focus our gunners’ minds. But by the time we reach the fort, some of our weapons might start to suffer degradation, and our gunners’ focus will wear thin. Long-range missiles are more about weakening your enemy’s ability to fight at peak efficiency rather than destroying many of their ships outright.”

“I see,” Faran-su said slowly. “I will make sure to pass on your warning to my gunners.”

Jonathan was surprised by the respect in the Karacknid’s voice. He is starting to see we might just be his equal in military matters, Jonathan guessed. He didn’t dwell on it, though, as he needed to analyze the long-range missiles’ capabilities and prepare for the next salvo, which was already just four and a half minutes away.

The next two enemy salvos proved just as ineffective as the first, succumbing to the Allied fleet’s massive weight of defensive fire. Then, as the third salvo arrived, it was joined by a salvo of equal strength from the second fort. Still, Jonathan’s ships held strong, shooting down every missile before it could reach them.

However, the fifth salvo was more successful. Two missiles evaded all the defensive fire hurled at them and managed to reach the Allied warships. One struck a cruiser, battering down its shields and carving a large hole in its hull. The second missile missed its target but still bathed a destroyer in antimatter as it attempted a proximity hit.

“Both ships report they can still stay with the fleet,” Iso reported within a minute of the missiles detonating. “Though their combat effectiveness has been severely reduced.”

“Move them to the back of the fleet,” Jonathan instructed.

“Georgia’s fighters are going in now,” Matthis called out, drawing everyone’s attention to her wing.

With her fighters now far ahead of the fleet, Georgia’s wing charged at the fighters that had taken off from the eastern fort. Her twenty thousand fighters smashed into the first wave of Praetorian fighters with deadly force. Anti-fighter missiles and laser beams crisscrossed through space between the two groups. Allied fighters kept firing even as their enemies raced past them at point-blank range. Then, they spun their fighters around and continued blasting the enemy from behind.

Despite the Allied pilots’ best efforts, three thousand Praetorian fighters survived. Less than a minute later, the second Allied wing Georgia had dispatched intercepted the second Praetorian fighter wing. The results were largely the same. Another three thousand two hundred enemy fighters made it through the onslaught and lined up for an attack run on the Allied fleet.

Then, in the span of thirty seconds, the Praetorian fort, Jonathan’s fleet, and the Praetorian fleet all entered range of one another with their standard missiles. Three point three million warheads were launched into space. As per Jonathan’s orders, Harte targeted all of his salvo at the Praetorian fleet. Immediately, the Praetorian ships altered their heading, veering away from the battle to ensure Harte couldn’t fire a second volley at them.

For seventeen minutes, the massive salvos moved towards their targets. In that time, Jonathan’s fleet fended off four more long-range enemy salvos, losing twenty-one ships in the process. Then events happened quickly. First, Iso scrambled the fleet’s reserve fighters. All five thousand of them charged the incoming Karacknid fighters, further thinning their numbers. At almost the same time, the eight hundred thousand Praetorian missiles rushed into attack range. Giga joules of destructive energy were hurled at them. Many were taken out, but the scale of the battle was simply too vast and chaotic to intercept them all. Hundreds of missiles reached the Allied fleet and began to explode within its formation.

Even as the missiles detonated, the Praetorian fighters swept in, attempting to get close enough to fire their deadly particle beam cannons. The moment they came into range, the Allied fleet’s gunners prioritized taking them out. Heavy energy weapons and even phase cannons fired, adding to the carnage. However, the defensive fire wasn’t enough. Too many Allied ships were damaged or had their sensors blinded by the exploding antimatter warheads. Several hundred fighters made it into attack range. Every Allied ship near them began to maneuver wildly, but deadly streams of particle beams still lanced into the Allied fleet. Over four hundred struck their targets. Anything the beams hit exploded instantly—smaller ships were obliterated, and larger ships suffered massive gashes down their sides or had entire hull sections ripped away.

The fighters weren’t done yet. Knowing they would never be able to break away to safety, they charged in further. Using the energy waves and debris thrown out by the ships they had killed as cover, they tried to buy time for their cannons to recharge.

“Hit them with everything we have!” Jonathan ordered desperately.

“Moving the worldships out!” Iso responded.

Almost instantly, the giant Kulrean worldships used their advanced thrusters to close with the enemy fighters. As soon as they were in range, their rapid-fire laser cannons opened up on the jinking enemy craft. Hundreds were shot down in a matter of seconds. But then the Praetorian fighters fired again. Explosions ripped at the heart of the Allied fleet. Another hundred Allied capital ships, including some of the Kulrean worldships were blown apart. Quickly, the few surviving Praetorian fighters were hunted down and finished off before they could fire a third time. However, they had achieved what they set out to do. Hundreds of ships were falling out of the Allied fleet’s formation, while hundreds more were simply gone.

Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists as a secondary holo display estimated that over seventeen hundred ships had sustained serious damage or been destroyed. And the battle is far from over! he knew. Already, Harte had two massive salvos heading toward the Praetorian fort, but just as many were coming back at his fleet. The second fort was also still pelting long-range missiles at his flank.

At least they’ve suffered even worse, he consoled himself, as he sought out the Praetorian fleet. His two and a half million missiles had clearly saturated their defenses. Three thousand ships were missing from their formation, and the Praetorian fleet had slowed considerably, with many more vessels evidently damaged. You should have stayed behind your battlestations, Jonathan thought bitterly. Yet, as he considered what awaited Gayla’s defenses, he wasn’t so sure. This had been the Praetorian fleet’s one chance to strike at his ships before being besieged, and they had taken it.

“We’ll finish them later,” Jonathan said, his eyes on the retreating enemy ships. “Now we finish the fort,” he added, turning his attention forward. “And we’re going to take as few losses as possible. Let’s fix our fleet’s formation and close in for the kill,” he instructed his officers. Around him, heads nodded, and orders filled Imperial’s bridge as his team got to work.

For another twenty minutes, Jonathan and his officers poured salvo after salvo into the eastern fort. As the salvos assaulted the fort it was quickly apparent that it had been equipped with impressive defenses that were almost enough to handle the massive weight of fire thrown at it. However, almost wasn’t good enough. Hundreds and then thousands of missiles began to break through and cause significant damage. Quickly, warships, battlestations, hangars, and defense satellites were destroyed by the hundreds and then thousands.

All the while, the Allied fleet worked tirelessly to fend off the salvos from the second fort, which kept trying to slip missiles through their defensive fire. More often than Jonathan liked, they succeeded, and his fleet’s losses continued to rise. But they were nothing compared to what they were inflicting.

By the time the Allied fleet passed by the eastern fort, it had been reduced to debris. Harte then turned the noses of Jonathan’s ships to set course for the system’s fifth planet. As they raced away from the now-dead fort, nine more long-range salvos struck at their rear before they were finally clear.

“All right,” Jonathan said the moment the last salvo was dealt with. “Now we take stock and prepare to go again. I want every ship that can’t fight sent back to our reserve fleet. Let’s get as much help to those that can be repaired as possible. And every fighter is to be refueled and rearmed at once. We need to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice in case they try to sneak more fighters against us.”

For an hour, the Allied fleet accelerated toward the system’s fifth planet, using its gravity to slingshot around and head toward the western fort orbiting Gayla. Half an hour later, they came under fire once more. This time, however, the Praetorian fleet did not come out to meet Jonathan’s challenge. With the fighters from both forts gone, they chose to remain behind their battlestations, licking their wounds.

Even without the Praetorian fleet’s direct involvement, the western fort added to Jonathan’s losses. For forty minutes, the Allied fleet endured its fire without being able to fire back. When they finally came into range, it took three salvos and a fighter strike from twenty thousand of Georgia’s fighters to finish it off. In that time, two hundred more Allied ships were lost.

Once the fighting was over, Jonathan joined Iso as they coordinated the search and rescue efforts among the damaged ships. Then, after an hour, he took control of the main holo display and zoomed in on the system’s fourth planet.

“It is time to begin what we came here for,” he said as he examined Gayla’s defenses. “Call up the bombard cruisers and dispatch Commodore Zahire’s squadron to the northern shift passage to keep an eye on it. Send as many scout frigates as we can spare north up the shift passage. If Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa are nearby, I want word brought back to us as quickly as possible.”

“Transmitting those orders now,” Rossi responded.

“Good. And alter our heading. Put us into a high orbit around Gayla. Then let’s see how many stealth recon drones we can slip in close to get a good read on their battlestations.”

*

Three hours later, all of Jonathan’s forces were in position. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could start to relax. His fleet outnumbered Gayla’s defenders by at least three to one. He had the advantage in fighters too, and he had his bombard cruisers. Several thousand ships in screening flotillas and squadrons had also searched every inch of the system and confirmed there were no hidden Praetorian forces.

Also of importance, he had moved his fleet into range of the Praetorian Guard’s long-range missiles. If there were any launchers in orbit around Gayla, they would have opened fire already—but they hadn’t.

We are going to win this, Jonathan allowed himself to think.

The last time an Allied fleet had assaulted Gayla, it had been a mad dash against the clock. His father’s fleet had broken through Gayla’s battlestations just long enough to land a ground assault force to try and kill Imperator Taranaki while Tanaka-lan’s overwhelmingly superior fleet closed in from their rear. Only his father’s challenging Taranaki to trava-klan had saved the fleet from certain destruction.

Now however, things were very different. Jonathan was as prepared as he could hope to be. He had the numbers and the tactics, and there was nothing the Praetorian Guard could do about it.

It’s just a matter of time, Jonathan decided as he weighed up the strategic situation.

As long as we get the time, a small voice cautioned him. Nervously, Jonathan’s eyes darted toward the system’s northern shift passage, but the only ships visible there were the ones he had stationed to watch out for danger.

“Bombard cruisers are ready to open fire with your permission,” Harte informed Jonathan.

“Proceed,” Jonathan said. “And everyone, keep your eyes open. Once they realize they cannot match the range of our cruisers, they are likely to come for us. We need to be ready to strike at them the moment they do.”

Seconds later, the fifteen bombard cruisers Jonathan had managed to bring all the way from Earth began to open fire. Quickly, they got into a rhythm. Every five minutes, their long electromagnetic cannons hurled hundreds of large tungsten rounds at Gayla. Then, just before the defenders could attempt to shoot at them with their heavy weapons, detonation charges within the rounds went off, shattering them into thousands of tungsten slivers. As each wave of slivers crashed into the Praetorian battlestations and warships, they caused miniature explosions that began to degrade the defenders’ combat effectiveness.

The Praetorian Guard forces endured just two salvos before they reacted. A hundred frigates and destroyers quickly boosted out of orbit in an effort to intercept the rounds before they could detonate. However, Harte simply detonated the rounds early. While the cloud of tungsten slivers spread out further than was ideal, they still smashed into the defenders, causing more damage.

Then, Georgia pounced on the Praetorian warships. Having anticipated the enemy’s move, Jonathan had stealthily dispatched her in close with a thousand fighters. Lightning quick, she raced into attack range and blew apart the Praetorian light ships before any Praetorian fighters could scramble from their orbital hangars and carriers.

Despite the losses, after enduring three more salvos, the Praetorians tried again. This time, two hundred warships moved up and out of orbit. At the same time, ten thousand fighters sortied into space and followed them.

“Time to show them our strength,” Jonathan said as he glanced at Iso.

Almost immediately, thirty thousand Allied fighters lit their engines and moved into position to swoop in and engage the Praetorian ships and fighters. Come on, Jonathan thought toward his opposite number. Come out and fight. Jonathan was more than happy to engage and kill ten thousand more enemy fighters now rather than see them charge his warships later in the battle.

Quickly, though, the Praetorian ships and fighters turned around. As bad as enduring the long-range bombardment was, losing ten thousand fighters was worse. For now at least, Jonathan thought. He knew that if he were in the Praetorian Guard’s position, he wouldn’t be able to sit still for long. They will come out to fight soon enough.

However, as bombard salvo after salvo struck the defenders, slowly Jonathan began to realize he was mistaken. After another half hour passed without any movement, he began to question himself. Several battlestations had been destroyed outright, and a number of ships had been crippled. When an hour came and went, and there was still no movement, he started to grow confused. Eighteen salvos of tungsten slivers had assaulted the Praetorian defenses, causing a great deal of damage, and yet still the defenders endured the assault without responding.

Starting to feel unsure of himself, Jonathan activated his senior commanders’ COM channel. “They are just sitting there taking the battering. What do you all think?” he asked.

“I have been wondering that myself, Imperator,” Tasata-su said immediately. “There is nothing worse for a Karacknid warrior than sitting still and dying in such a fashion. If they remain still until we have bombarded all their stations and ships into debris, they will have died for nothing.”

“Such deaths would bring only shame upon the Praetorian Guard. That is not who they are,” Faran-su added.

“Which means,” Scott interjected, “they must know something we do not. It’s the only reasonable explanation. We’ve just spent the last two weeks fighting tooth and nail against these guys. There must be a reason why they have become so docile all of a sudden.”

Jonathan didn’t like where Scott’s mind was going. Yet, if he was honest with himself, it was where his thoughts were pointing him as well. “You think they’ve heard from Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa?” he asked, though he didn’t want to hear the answer he was about to get.

Scott nodded. “Or else they have some other trap about to spring on us, but given how many screening flotillas and recon drones we have surrounding us, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Almost in hope, Jonathan glanced away from the holographic faces of his officers to the main display. Quickly, he looked all around the approaches to his fleet’s position. Yet there wasn’t a single anomalous reading. Unless the Karacknids had developed some new wonder stealth technology, there was no way anything could threaten his fleet from within the system—not within the time it would take him to bombard Gayla’s defenses into rubble.

It was at that very moment that Scott’s suggestion and Jonathan’s fears materialized. Just as his eyes passed over Commodore Zahire’s forces at the northern shift passage, fresh bright red contacts suddenly began to appear. Time ground to a halt for Jonathan. He was aware of his eyes slowly widening and his pulse spiking. One by one, the distinctive alarms from the consoles around him went off. Visually, he took in the hundreds and then thousands of contacts appearing within a matter of seconds. Mentally, however, he struggled to grasp what he was seeing. Around him, officers shouted in surprise, and even his senior commanders lost their composure—some swore, while others voiced their concerns.

Jonathan didn’t register any of it. Instead, he focused on the new contacts, slowly realizing what he was truly witnessing. This wasn’t a screening flotilla or a scouting squadron jumping into the system. As the numbers raced past ten thousand, then twenty thousand, and continued climbing, he knew at least one of Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa’s fleets had arrived. Without waiting for their full force to enter the system, thousands were already charging toward Gayla.

With great effort, Jonathan tore his eyes away from the seemingly ever-growing enemy fleet. He turned back toward Gayla, and a wave of frustration hit him like a physical blow. The Karacknid capital world was within his grasp – the seat of power from which invasions into human space had been directed, and the world he held responsible for his father’s death. Another three or four hours was all he needed to reduce its defenses enough to move in and take it. Yet now, it might as well have been a hundred light-years away.

A glance back at the fleet still entering the system erased any lingering hope. Fifty thousand Karacknid warships were now advancing. On their own, Jonathan knew he could defeat them—his ships and crews were seasoned by months of relentless campaigning. But if he fought them, he would lose too many ships and no longer have the strength to take Gayla.

Yet if he charged Gayla now instead, he would suffer almost as many losses and so not have the strength to hold it against the Clan Lords’ fleet. Even worse, if he stayed still, they would pin him between them and destroy his fleet entirely.

All that left only one option – he had to run. Yet it was just as undesirable. If he pulled back, the Clan Lords would join Gayla’s defenders, rendering the planet impregnable.

Despair welled up within Jonathan. After everything he had achieved – after all the losses his fleet had endured and the sacrifices his species had made – everything now seemed for nothing. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned how events would unfold. Gayla would be reinforced beyond the point of assault. The Clan Lords would then go on the offensive, leveraging the vast northern border of the Yanum-mi clan’s territory to strike Jonathan’s positions wherever they were weakest. Their attacks would embolden the other Clan Lords he had defeated but not fully conquered, prompting raids and attempts to retake Gal-tak and Dar’kanan systems. Eventually such attacks would lose him the support of the three clans he had subjugated, and rebellion would follow.

As all that played out in his mind a deep depression threatened to grab a hold of Jonathan’s mind and suck him into a black hole of despair.

Just before it succeeded, something caught Jonathan’s attention. His brow furrowed as he focused on the enemy fleet. Something about their formation didn’t make sense. It took a few seconds to notice it, but when he did, his heart leaped. He quickly latched onto the thought, mentally tracing its implications. While every officer on Imperial’s bridge and every commander on the conference call looked around wild-eyed or shouted in alarm, Jonathan smiled.

The siege was not over yet!

Chapter 45

Sometimes, not everything is as it seems.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

"Quiet!" Jonathan bellowed as he sought to regain control of his officers. "Quiet!" He had to repeat even louder. This time it worked, and the noise all around him died down as every head turned toward Jonathan.

Quickly, Jonathan began asking his Karacknid commanders a series of questions. “Tasata-su, Faran-su, look at the Clan Lords’ fleet. Look at their formation. What do you see?”

“A massive force bent on destroying us,” Tasata-su replied instinctively.

“What else?” Jonathan demanded, allowing the irritation he felt to seep into his voice.

“They have not combined into one fleet,” Tasata-su said after a few seconds. “So both Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa must be here.”

“Right, but why not combine their forces? An alien fleet with superior numbers is assaulting their homeworld. Surely that should be enough to make them fight as one? Separated, they are far weaker.”

“They won’t combine because they don’t trust one another!” Faran-su said, grasping where Jonathan was going first. “Because they each still want to be Imperator.”

Tasata-su swore. “Of course!” he cried. “They want to drive us away, but they don’t want to lose too many ships for fear their rival will try to claim Gayla.”

“And so what do you think will happen if we pull back in a way that looks like we’ve been defeated?” Jonathan asked.

The holo images of Tasata-su and Faran-su looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to Jonathan. “They will turn on one another,” they said together.

Jonathan smiled again as he nodded. “Exactly!” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in with all his other officers. Then he began to give out orders. “We’re going to have to be quick. And we’re going to take losses—more than we would like. But it’s the only way. Each of you needs to begin evacuating your most damaged ships immediately. Then we’ll plant the charges. We can use drones to fake some of what we need, but a lot will have to be real. Quickly, let’s get to work!”

For the next twenty minutes, Jonathan’s bombard cruisers continued assaulting Gayla’s defenses. To the defenders, that appeared to be all the Allied fleet was doing, despite the new threat rushing toward them. Inside Jonathan’s ships, however, frantic work was being carried out. Then, as soon as everything was ready, Jonathan nodded toward Gayla.

“Take the fleet in,” he ordered.

In what looked like a desperate attempt to seize Gayla before the Clan Lords could stop them, the Allied fleet charged into missile range. A deadly exchange of blows quickly began. Jonathan’s fleet began hurling salvos of two and a half a million missiles down at Gayla’s defenders, while the Praetorian Guard fleet and battlestations fired a million missiles back at the Allies. To make the assault look authentic, Georgia led all sixty thousand of her remaining fighters toward the orbital defenses. In response, the Praetorian Guard scrambled their twenty-three thousand fighters and rushed them out to intercept the Allied forces.

Three salvos crashed into both sides before the fighters met. Thousands of missiles broke through to strike their targets, and hundreds of Allied and Praetorian ships died in each salvo. Just before the two waves of fighters clashed, Jonathan’s secondary display reported that two and a half thousand Allied ships had already been destroyed or rendered completely crippled. Then the fighters exchanged missiles before charging into knife-fighting range. Deadly duels broke out everywhere as the combat turned into a giant ball of twisting and weaving fighters. Within a couple of minutes, however, it was over. For the price of nine thousand fighters, Georgia’s wing destroyed all but a handful of the Praetorian fighters.

Then the fourth Praetorian salvo approached.

“This is it!” Jonathan called out to his officers. “Begin as soon as the first missiles start detonating within our formation.”

Despite the ruse Jonathan intended to play, the Allied fleet threw everything they had at the incoming missiles. Inevitably, thousands got through. As antimatter detonations from the Praetorian missiles filled Imperial’s screen, they were joined by many Allied ones. Over a thousand Allied ships succumbed to the enemy fire. Three times as many then blew apart as Harte detonated antimatter missiles within their hulls. Every one of them was a ship that had suffered serious damage in the fighting against the forts, but the Praetorian Guard forces weren’t to know that. To them, it looked like their salvo had truly savaged their enemy. Reinforcing this illusion, two thousand drones that had been mimicking nearby Allied ships also self-destructed.

In total, Jonathan’s fleet appeared to lose over six thousand ships—almost a tenth of his strength—in less than sixty seconds.

Given how many ships and stations the Praetorian Guard still had left in the fight, and the massive Clan Lord fleet closing in on their rear, Jonathan did exactly what he would do if he had been in such a situation for real.

“Full reverse!” he ordered. “Get us out of here. And recall Georgia’s fighters!”

At once, the Allied fleet shot away from Gayla and her defenders. Georgia’s fighters were also ordered to abort the attack they had been about to make on the Praetorian battlestations. The battle wasn’t over yet, however, for the momentum of Jonathan’s ships was against them. For another fifteen minutes, the Praetorian Guard forces were able to hammer the Allied fleet. Four more salvos of enemy missiles destroyed another two thousand ships. The destruction of more of Harte’s drones bolstered the number, making it look like an additional five thousand had been lost. In reality, many of Jonathan’s stealthiest ships simply went dark, feigning destruction.

Jonathan’s return fire was even more deadly. As his fleet finally moved out of range of Gayla, they left behind just ten thousand Praetorian Guard warships, while only two-thirds of the battlestations that had begun the fight remained.

As bad as it was for the Praetorian Guard, it appeared worse for the Allied fleet. Jonathan had charged with seventy-five thousand warships. Twelve thousand ships were now missing from his fleet, and twice as many again were showing signs of serious damage. Fake debris streamed from many of them, while the reactors and engines of others stuttered and spluttered. To keep his force together, Jonathan reduced his acceleration to half of what his fleet normally could achieve. As a final sign of defeat, he then turned his ships towards the shift passage they had entered the system from. With their tails firmly tucked between their legs, they fled from the Clan Lord fleet in apparent defeat.

Within Imperial’s bridge, however, the mood did not match the appearance of their fleet. Every officer watched the Clan Lords’ fleet as it approached Gayla, waiting to see if their Admiral’s guess was going to prove true. Jonathan watched with an eagerness greater than any other for he knew the next few minutes would determine the success of his entire invasion.

*

Retribution

Clan Lord Rigel-ese’s eyes kept flicking from Gayla to the thirty-thousand-strong fleet directly adjacent to his own. The retreating Allied fleet was almost an afterthought in his mind. The warships opposite his flagship were what had him nervous.

Two months ago, his ships would have been slamming missiles and laser beams into Clan Lord Canso-vasa’s fleet. For nearly a year, they had been maneuvering against each other and fighting small skirmishes as each jockeyed for an advantage in their feud. Canso-vasa had betrayed him and tried to invade and steal one of Rigel-ese’s most valuable systems. From that moment, Rigel-ese had been forced to declare himself a contender in the quest to find a new Imperator for his species in order to rival and cut off Canso-vasa’s claim.

Then the shocking news had begun to come in. An Allied invasion fleet led by the Human who claimed he was the Karacknid Empire’s true Imperator had conquered the Gal-tak Clan – and even appointed a new Clan Lord who accepted him as Imperator! Then, even as the news was spreading throughout the rest of the Empire, word came that the Dar’kanan Clan had been subjugated as well! It was too much for Rigel-ese. Immediately, he had sent messages to Canso-vasa seeking a ceasefire. Though Rigel-ese would never trust his one-time friend and ally, he had known Canso-vasa would honor the ceasefire, for it was then evident what the Humans wanted – Gayla.

And they nearly took it! Rigel-ese admitted to himself. Another day, and he and Canso-vasa might have arrived to see a Human fleet sitting in orbit around their homeworld. But they have been neutralized… for now, at least. Rigel-ese knew the Human fleet would have to be pursued and the conquered clans liberated. But that is a task for an enthroned Imperator, he decided. He couldn’t waste ships reconquering clans that would have no fleets to add to his cause.

But Gayla, on the other hand, was a prize of immeasurable worth, for whoever held it could rightfully claim to be Imperator and thus draw many of the neutral clans and families to their side.

That was why Rigel-ese’s eyes kept moving between Canso-vasa’s fleet and his species’ homeworld. Doubt and suspicion dominated Rigel-ese’s mind. A part of him hated Canso-vasa for filling his mind with such thoughts. His fleet’s arrival had just saved his species’ homeworld. For the first time in many years, he was returning to Gayla. It was always a spiritual experience to come to his species first world. And now he was coming as a hero. All of Rigel-ese’s attention should have been on the joys that awaited him when he set foot on his species’ place of birth. Instead, he knew he had to watch Canso-vasa like a hawk. He wants Gayla! Rigel-ese knew. And its defenses will never be weaker.

“Clan Lord…” an officer said hesitantly as he half-turned toward Rigel-ese. “You asked me to monitor Canso-vasa’s fleet.”

“I did. So, what is it you want to tell me?” Rigel-ese demanded. “Speak!”

“Yes, sir… I’ve started detecting encrypted COM messages passing back and forth between Canso-vasa’s flagship and the Praetorian Guard fleet.”

“I knew it!” Rigel-ese growled as he turned back to Retribution’s main display. The Praetorian Guard fleet had taken a beating fighting off the Human fleet. But they were still a powerful force. They would swing the balance between Canso-vasa and me. If he can convince them to join him…!

“Focus forward passive sensors on the Praetorian Guard ships,” Rigel-ese commanded. “Don’t let them see us watching them, but if they make any sign whatsoever that they are preparing to fight us, alert me immediately. Then alert all our ships to prepare for Operation Hiridan.”

“Hiridan? Are you sure, Clan Lord?” Rigel-ese’s Chief of Staff asked, more than a hint of surprise in his voice.

Rigel-ese turned to him and fixed his fiery gaze on his subordinate.

“Yes, of course, Clan Lord. My apologies,” the officer said quickly as he bowed his head.

Rigel-ese watched his officer for a few seconds and then turned his attention back to Canso-vasa’s fleet. His one-time friend had betrayed him when he had tried to conquer the Hiridan system by surprise. Rigel-ese was not going to let that happen again. If you are working against me again, then it is you who will suffer this time!

Less than a minute later, Rigel-ese’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Clan Lord, we’re being hailed by Admiral Far-son of the Praetorian Guard,” a COMs officer informed him. “He wants to speak to you.”

“Connect him,” Rigel-ese responded as his paranoia rose.

“Clan Lord,” Admiral Far-son’s impressive frame said as he gave Rigel-ese the slightest of nods. “I thank you for coming to our aid. Without your intervention, the Humans would have kept up their cowardly attack on us from beyond where we could reach them. You forced them to fight. I thank you for letting my warriors destroy our enemy.”

“No one wants to see another Human set foot on our homeworld, Admiral. And your fleet fought well. You won much honor for your Guard today,” Rigel-ese said, matching Far-son’s respectful tone, though his suspicions didn’t abate.

“You honor me with your words, Clan Lord,” Far-son replied. “And now, I hope you do not take offence at mine. I would ask you and Clan Lord Canso-vasa to turn your fleets around. Both of you have publicly declared that you are Tanaka-lan’s true heir. However, not all of the clans have acknowledged either of you as such. Therefore, I cannot allow your fleets into orbit. Return when you have won the recognition of your peers, and I will gladly allow you to sit on Tanaka-lan’s throne. Do not force my hand now, however, for I have sworn to protect our sacred homeworld from all enemies, internal or external.”

Rigel-ese’s face hardened. “You would fire upon my ships?”

“I would defend this world from any who seek to conquer it and use it for their own purposes,” Far-son responded in a neutral tone. “If you come with the backing of the other Clan Lords, then I will know you come with the glory of our species as your chief concern. Until then, I will not get involved in inter-clan politics.”

“And what of Canso-vasa?”

“I have spoken to him in the same manner,” Far-son said.

“And yet your communications with him were encrypted.” Rigel-ese pointed out.

“Canso-vasa contacted me over that channel; I did not contact him,” Far-son clarified.

Rigel-ese wanted to laugh, but he restrained himself. Laughing would alert Far-son that he could see what was happening now. Far-son was to talk him into turning his fleet away. When he did, Canso-vasa would dart in and take control of Gayla’s orbitals, and then there would be nothing Rigel-ese could do to stop his rival. Instead, he simply nodded.

“If this is the demand of the Praetorian Guard, then so be it. Thank you for contacting me, Admiral.”

Far-son opened his mouth to say something more, but Rigel-ese reached out and tapped a button on his command chair to cut the channel.

“They have betrayed us!” he snarled to his officers, his voice rising with anger. “Canso-vasa has bought him. They have conspired against us. If we do not act now, we will be killed, and our clan stripped of all that it has.”

As he spoke, Rigel-ese saw doubt and confusion on some faces, but comprehension dawned on others. He didn’t care about either. He knew what was happening, and his officers would obey his commands. They knew the consequences if they didn’t.

“Initiate Plan Hiridan immediately!”

There was the briefest hesitation from Rigel-ese’s Chief of Staff, but as Rigel-ese met his eyes, the officer sprang into action. “Yes, Clan Lord. At once!”

Seconds later, Rigel-ese’s fleet came alive. Thousands of fighters launched from their carriers. Every active sensor powered up to full and trained itself on Canso-vasa’s fleet. As soon as they had a lock, warships unleashed their missiles. Then the thirty-thousand-strong fleet turned sharply towards its new enemies. Rigel-ese was going in for the kill.

Almost immediately after Rigel-ese’s fleet turned hostile, Canso-vasa’s ships began to alter their headings. Showing that they too had suspected treachery, they quickly drew themselves into a defensive formation. Then they returned fire and began launching their own fighters.

With both fleets so close to one another, missiles began detonating amidst their targets almost right away. Fighters barely had any time to intercept one another before reaching their enemies’ fleets. Particle beams then began to tear ships apart. Hundreds, and then thousands, of ships died within minutes of the battle igniting.

Rigel-ese kept his focus solely on Canso-vasa’s flagship. He bellowed orders as he directed the fire of his ships and fighters towards his one-time friend.

“Kill him! Kill him, and his fleet will be ours!” he shouted more than once. As his losses sharply rose, desperation began to creep into his orders. He needed to kill Canso-vasa before he lost half his fleet.

“Clan Lord, we’re being attacked on our port side!” an officer called out. He had to shout louder a second time to be heard.

Rigel-ese’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Then he spun toward the officer. “Where?”

The officer pointed at a section of the holo display, and Rigel-ese’s eyes followed him. Thousands of missiles were racing into attack range and exploding amidst a part of his fleet that Canso-vasa couldn’t possibly hit. It only took a second to trace where the missiles had come from.

“Far-son!”

Quickly, he widened out the holo display. Snarls and curses poured from his lips at what he saw. The Praetorian Guard fleet and battlestations were pouring fire into his and Canso-vasa’s fleets. They don’t want either of us getting too close to them! Rigel-ese realized too late. Far-son hadn’t lied to him after all! He didn’t know if Far-son thought his fight with Canso-vasa was real or just a ruse, but either way, the commander of the Praetorian Guard wasn’t going to let either fleet reach Gayla’s orbitals.

Though Rigel-ese recognized he had misjudged the situation, his battle lust was too high and the sight of more of his ships exploding to the Praetorian Guard fire enraged him further. He will not get away with this!

“Have our port tubes open fire on the Praetorian Guard!” Rigel-ese ordered. “They have betrayed us too. Destroy them all!”

Rigel-ese watched Gayla’s defenders just long enough to see his first salvo tear off toward them, then he turned his attention back to Canso-vasa. His rival was trying to pull his fleet back out of energy weapon range, but Rigel-ese’s charging ships had the momentum advantage. We’re about to wreck your fleet, my friend, and then you won’t have any ships to hide behind!

Seconds before his fleet entered energy weapon range, Rigel-ese’s Chief of Staff appeared right in front of him. The warrior’s eyes were bulging, and he was shouting at the top of his lungs. “Clan Lord! Clan Lord, look, you need to see this!”

Rigel-ese snarled and tried to push past, but his subordinate grabbed his chin and forcibly turned his head away from Canso-vasa’s flagship.

For the briefest of moments, time stopped for Rigel-ese. The Human fleet, far stronger than it had appeared even minutes ago, was charging back toward his ships. In an instant, everything fell into place in Rigel-ese’s mind. The Humans had known he would turn on Canso-vasa. They had goaded him into doing it by faking how much damage their fleet had taken.

They have Karacknid advisors on their side! he realized, cursing himself for being blind to something so obvious. He had dismissed the clans the Humans had conquered as being weak, but weak though they might be, they weren’t stupid. They would have known about the animosity between him and Canso-vasa.

And now it will be our undoing.

In a sudden change of heart, Rigel-ese whipped his head back toward Canso-vasa’s fleet. He opened his mouth to order all his ships to cease firing. But then time sped back up to its normal rate. Just as he began to speak, his fleet came into energy weapon range of the enemy. Thousands of heavy laser cannons hurled devastating beams at the opposing fleet. Mere fractions of a second later, Canso-vasa’s fleet did the same. All hell broke loose as thousands of ships were blown apart by the destructive energies.

Retribution was hit twice, and everyone on the bridge was thrown around violently. Alarms and screams filled Rigel-ese’s ears. They drowned out the warning one junior sensor officer was trying to shout. Waving his arms and shouting at the top of his lungs, the officer tried to get someone’s attention, pointing frantically toward his screen. Yet no one else noticed the thousands of small contacts rushing toward their ships from the direction of the Human fleet.

Chapter 46

When an enemy makes a mistake, exploit it to the utmost.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Georgia couldn’t have orchestrated a more optimal opportunity to strike at her targets even if she had been given command of the Clan Lords’ fleets herself. Seconds before her fifty thousand fighters charged into range of the Karacknids' defensive weapons, both fleets opened fire. Their heavy energy weapons savaged one another. Thousands of ships exploded as they were sliced apart by powerful laser beams.

“Hawk, Red, and Rogue squadrons, you’re with me,” Georgia called out over the COM channel to her squadron leaders. “Everyone else, focus your fire on their capital ships. This is our chance to take both fleets out of the fight. Do not waste it!”

With a tap on her COM unit, Georgia switched channels to speak privately to her second-in-command. “Ramirez, do whatever it takes to get to Canso-vasa’s flagship. If we kill the two Clan Lords, we can end this now.”

“I understand, Wing Commander,” Ramirez responded. “We will do our best.”

“I know you will. I’ll see you after,” Georgia said, then changed channels again to speak to the three squadrons that had taken up position just behind her Talon. “Rogue Squadron, hold your fire until my say-so. Save your missiles for Rigel-ese’s flagship. The rest of us will clear a path for you.”

Quickly, Rogue Squadron’s pilots confirmed Georgia’s orders. Seconds later, Georgia’s Talon beeped, alerting her that she was just five seconds from the effective range of the enemy’s point defenses. Here we go, she thought to herself as she slipped into her hyperfocus state and stepped up her evasive maneuvers.

Initially, no fire reached out to greet Georgia’s fighters. Both Clan Lords’ fleets were still reeling from the energy beams that had struck them. They were also focused on fresh salvos of missiles racing in to strike them as well. As the Allied fighters got closer, a handful of point-defense weapons began to open up on them. Then, the weight of fire coming Georgia’s way quickly ramped up. However, Georgia’s pilots were already halfway to the point where they could fire back themselves!

As fighters around her began to explode, Georgia’s focus narrowed in on Rigel-ese’s flagship. It was at the heart of his formation, but conveniently, Canso-vasa’s ships had cut wide swaths into Rigel-ese’s defensive positions. Georgia directed the nose of her Talon toward one of the gaps, and the squadrons around her followed suit. However, someone in Rigel-ese’s fleet spotted the danger, as several of his ships began to maneuver to close the gaps. Within seconds, the number rose quickly as a swarm of ships raced to protect their Clan Lord. Georgia’s eyes darted about, searching for the widest gap. When she found it, she dove toward it.

Then the Varanni and Eagleton fighters in her wing came into range of their weapons. Laser and grazer beams flashed across space, striking the Karacknid ships. Six thousand ships were hit by the fire. Explosions filled the space in front of Georgia. Quickly, she assessed the damage to the ships immediately in front of her and began assigning targets to the Eagleton fighters of Hawk Squadron.

“Take them out!” she ordered.

Twelve laser beams reached out and tore apart three Karacknid light cruisers. Georgia immediately turned her fighter toward the hole their destruction had opened in the enemy formation. For a few brief moments, she got a clear glimpse of Rigel-ese’s flagship. What she saw made her teeth clench. As well as flinging ships into her path, the Clan Lord’s flagship was turning and running away from her fighters. He’s giving up the battle! Georgia sensed. Desperately, she tried to line up a shot with her own laser cannon, but a battleship suddenly appeared in front of her, obscuring her view.

Georgia swore but didn’t give up hope. All around her, thousands of missiles appeared as the Human and Vestarian fighters in her wing released their payloads. In desperation, the Karacknid warships switched all their fire onto the missiles. Well over eighty percent were shot down in the eight seconds it took for them to race toward their targets. Yet, that still left just under six thousand missiles to explode amidst Rigel-ese’s fleet. For a few brief seconds, the warships in front of Georgia disappeared as bright blue clouds of antimatter enveloped them, blinding her and her Talon’s sensors.

Then the final component of Georgia’s attack struck. Four thousand of Tasata-su’s Karacknid fighters used the confusion from the missile detonations to race in to almost point-blank range. Then they let loose with their particle beam cannons. The streams of matter, accelerated to almost the speed of light, slammed into Karacknid ships by the hundreds and then thousands. No ship that took a direct hit could fend off the beams. The immense energy carried by every particle meant that when it connected with a ship’s armor, hull, or internal systems, it immediately vaporized them, releasing huge amounts of energy.

Though she had charged into point-blank range alongside her Karacknid pilots, Georgia still held her fire. Then she plunged right into the middle of the enemy formation. Ships, debris, explosions, and even enemy fighters flashed past her. Georgia twisted and weaved through them all as she desperately sought a way past them to her target. Frustration boiled within her as she was forced to start assigning targets to Red Squadron. The Varanni pilots used their grazer cannons to blast apart ships that Georgia couldn’t get around. However, only half the pilots she assigned targets to opened fire. The others didn’t respond. They were already gone.

Then she caught sight of Rigel-ese’s flagship again. Georgia groaned. It was far farther away than she had expected. He was running away at full speed. To make matters worse, two dreadnoughts suddenly raced in front of Georgia, both coming right for her. Every defensive weapon they had was blazing away at her and what was left of her two squadrons. Georgia twisted and weaved through their fire, yet she sensed several explosions around her as more of Red and Rogue Squadron’s pilots died. They can’t fly through this like you can, Georgia thought as a sliver of guilt penetrated her hyperfocus state.

In desperation, she carried out a larger-than-normal jink. It gave her another look toward Rigel-ese’s flagship. She only got a split-second look, but it was enough to see more frigates and destroyers crowding around the massive dreadnought. Immediately, Georgia knew she was not going to make it. She would lose all her pilots trying, and then it would just be her against the host of ships defending their Clan Lord’s flagship. They will never let me get a clear shot at him! she moaned.

Georgia’s disappointment lasted only a split second, though, for she had her pilots to think about.

“Take out those two battleships!” she called out to her pilots. “Then pull up and get out of here.”

Immediately, ten missiles streaked ahead of Georgia’s Talon as her pilots fired. She held her fire for a couple of seconds, then lined up a killing shot on one of the dreadnoughts. As she squeezed her trigger, her laser cannon sent a beam slicing deep into the dreadnought, right into its reactors. The massive warship instantly lost all power, and its defensive fire quickly faltered. Seconds later, missiles slammed into it and its compatriot, blowing both ships apart. Georgia watched just long enough to confirm both ships’ destruction before pulling back hard on her flight stick.

As she pulled up and out of the Karacknid fleet’s formation, she was able to look down on it. What had once been a proud warfleet was now little more than a shambolic mess. At least ten thousand ships were gone – reduced to nothing more than debris. As many again were dead in the water or spinning away out of control. About six thousand ships appeared to still be largely intact, clustered around Rigel-ese’s flagship and running northward toward the system’s mass shadow. In the few seconds Georgia watched them, hundreds of missiles rushed in and detonated among their number.

Georgia turned her head, searching for the source of the missiles. She quickly spotted the remnants of Canso-vasa’s fleet. It too was retreating, leaving almost as many dead and crippled ships in its wake. Both Clan Lords’ fleets were angling away from one another, but that didn’t stop them from firing a couple of final salvos at each other, adding to the carnage both sides had already suffered.

As she watched them run, Georgia didn’t know how to feel. She had failed to kill Rigel-ese, and so too had Ramires, for her Talon’s sensors had picked up Canso-vasa’s flagship as well. Unless one killed the other, both would retreat back to their clan’s territory and rebuild their strength. Yet their attack on one another, combined with her fighter strike, had been devastating. Of the sixty thousand ships they had entered the system with, they would likely escape with fewer than ten thousand apiece. They may not be defeated, Georgia admitted to herself, but they cannot threaten us any longer.

With a slight twist on her flight stick, Georgia turned the nose of her fighter so she could see her brother’s fleet. Then she shifted her attention to the planet the Allied ships were moving toward. There was now only one more force that stood in her brother’s way. And you will not stand for long, she thought, directing her silent challenge toward the Praetorian Guard fleet.

*

IS Imperial

“Collect our fighters,” Jonathan ordered as he watched the symbol representing his sister’s fighter emerge from the midst of Rigel-ese’s fleet and turn for safety. “Then launch SAR shuttles as soon as the Clan Lords’ fleets get out of range. If we have any pilots out there who ejected, I want them found.”

“Aye, Admiral… what about all the crippled Clan Lord ships?” Iso asked.

Jonathan glanced at the remnants of the two fleets that had come to drive him out of the system. Thousands of ships were listing in space, out of control. “Offer them the chance to surrender and receive aid,” he said. “If they refuse, leave them. But I want a squadron detached to watch over them. If any ships that haven’t surrendered look like they’re trying to get underway, they’re to be destroyed immediately.”

“Understood. I’ll assign Commodore Rodgers’ squadron to the task,” Iso said.

“A good choice,” Jonathan responded. Then he turned to focus on Gayla. He was too far back from the Clan Lords’ fleets to catch them. That was a pity, for he would have very much liked to finish them off. But that would have to wait for another time. “Now we finish what we started,” he said as he studied what was left of the Praetorian Guard forces. When Imperial had first entered the system, eighteen thousand warships and four thousand battlestations had stood ready to oppose him. Now, just eight thousand ships and two thousand battlestations remained. And many of them were badly damaged. Both Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa had added to the destruction Jonathan had started.

“Bring up the bombard cruisers. Let’s begin hitting them again,” Jonathan ordered. “But don’t open fire until Wing Commander Somerville’s fighters have landed and refueled. I don’t think they’ll be staying still this time when we begin our bombardment. So we need to be ready to face their ships if they come out against us.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Jonathan’s ships moved up and retook the position they had been in several hours earlier. Then the bombard cruisers set themselves up to begin their assault once again, while a host of munitions freighters lined up behind them, ready to replace the vast amounts of shells the cruisers were about to fire. Only when all of Georgia’s remaining forty-two thousand fighters were landed, refueled, rearmed, and launched again did Jonathan give the order to open fire.

Even before the first salvo of tungsten shells reached Gayla’s orbitals, the Praetorian Guard fleet charged. Its eight thousand ships left the relative safety of their battlestations and moved as quickly as they could toward the bombard cruisers. Five hundred fighters also launched and bravely moved ahead of their larger consorts.

With ease, Jonathan interposed his sixty-six thousand ships between his bombard cruisers and the Praetorian fleet. Georgia’s fighters then slashed into the small enemy formation, wiping out all five hundred Karacknid fighters. As his sister reformed her wing, Jonathan gave the order to open fire.

To their credit, the Praetorian Guard charged valiantly into the two and a half million missiles Jonathan’s fleet unleashed. Their eight thousand damaged warships stood no chance against the massive weight of fire that descended upon them. Over a million missiles got close enough to their targets to detonate. For a full ten seconds, the Praetorian fleet disappeared from Imperial’s main display as her sensors struggled to see through the antimatter blooms. Then, Georgia’s fighters charged into what was left of the enemy fleet.

As the antimatter dissipated, it revealed barely a thousand ships with any capability to defend themselves. With ease, Georgia’s fighters slipped past their haphazard and uncoordinated defensive fire, slamming laser beams, missiles, and particle beams into the hapless ships. None survived the attack.

As his fleet easily fended off the two hundred thousand missiles the Praetorian fleet had fired, Jonathan looked beyond the debris field that his ships and sister’s fighters had just created, towards Gayla. As he considered the situation before him, he could hardly believe it. He had all but won. Only two thousand battlestations now stood in his way. Even as he watched them, the first shells his bombard cruisers had fired began to explode, releasing their clouds of tungsten slivers. Six battlestations succumbed to the attack, while many others suffered significant damage. Imperial’s display showed that the bombard cruisers already had another five salvos on their way to strike the battlestations again.

They cannot come out and attack us, and they will not surrender, Jonathan knew. So then, they will die.

For twenty minutes, he watched four more salvos crash into the battlestations. Each one destroyed more of the stations than the last. Their total destruction was now inevitable.

“Signal General Johnston’s fleet,” Jonathan ordered as he turned to Rossi. “Inform them they may join us and prepare for their assault.”

Ten minutes after Imperial’s gravimetric COM began to pulse, the dreadnought’s contact alarms sounded. South of Imperial’s position, from the same shift passage she had entered the system, thousands of fresh ships started accelerating towards Gayla. They carried General Johnston’s invasion force. Over one and a half million marines were aboard his troop ships. Most had embarked on Earth and spent almost all of the last few months cooped up in their ships. They had been waiting for this one battle, and now Jonathan had opened the way for them.

They weren’t alone, however. With Johnston’s force were two hundred thousand Gramrian warriors and over two million Karacknid warriors from the three clans sworn to Jonathan. The two hundred thousand marines aboard Jonathan’s warships and three times as many warriors from Tasata-su’s ships would also be joining the assault. Altogether, they constituted the largest planetary invasion force Jonathan—or any of his senior admirals and generals—had ever heard of. They had all been gathered for one purpose: the conquest of Gayla.

And, Jonathan hoped, the ending of the threat Gayla and the Karacknid Empire posed to his species.

For the entirety of the two hours it took Johnston’s fleet to move up and join Jonathan’s ships, the bombard cruisers continued their assault on Gayla’s battlestations. Less than four hundred badly battered battlestations remained by the time Johnston approached.

“Move the fleet in. We’ll finish them off and then begin striking ground targets. I don’t want to give them any more time to prepare than they’ve already had,” Jonathan instructed his officers.

With relentless efficiency, Jonathan’s fleet advanced. The battlestations fired three salvos at the Allied ships, but they were all easily intercepted and neutralized. In contrast, a single full-strength salvo unleashed by Harte was enough to finish off the remaining battlestations. The Allied fleet then spread out, completely surrounding Gayla. Every Allied warship settled into low orbit and began raining down tungsten spears and other orbital bombardment weapons. Anything resembling a military base or installation outside major population centers was obliterated.

By the time Johnston’s troop ships came alongside Imperial, the bombardment had all but ceased. Right away then, tens of thousands of troop transports and atmospheric fighters began assembling into their landing waves. Jonathan unfastened his restraints and stood, drawing the attention of every officer on the bridge.

“I’m going over to join Johnston. I need to see this play out for myself. Harte, Rossi, you’re with me in case I need to liaise with the fleet. Iso, I’m leaving you in charge of coordinating with Johnston’s landing,” he said.

“Are you sure, Admiral?” Iso asked.

Jonathan smiled at his Chief of Staff. “I’m sure, Commander. The fleet is in good hands.” He gestured toward Johnston’s troop ships on the main holo display. “I’ve brought these soldiers over a thousand light years to fight this battle. I want to be there with General Johnston as they make their attack.”

“Yes, sir. I understand,” Iso said with a nod. “We’ll inform you immediately if there’s anything that requires your attention.”

Jonathan nodded back at Iso, then gestured for Rossi and Harte to follow as he walked out of Imperial’s bridge.

This is going to be bloody, Jonathan thought as he began to contemplate the battle ahead. But he was determined to see it through.

Chapter 47

The planetary invasion of Gayla was a herculean task for the Allied forces. Yet just one hundred years later, it would be dwarfed by what it took to repulse the Antarians.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

“General, don’t let me distract you,” Jonathan said as he walked into Johnston’s CnC room. At least twenty senior officers were circled around a large holo display that was currently showing an image of Gayla. Behind them, smaller displays surrounded by their staff officers were zoomed in on cities and other areas selected as LZs.

Johnston looked down from the image of Gayla to Jonathan and waved him over. “Don’t worry, Admiral. Just come and stand beside me. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can. This is going to be a very delicate operation, though.”

“I understand,” Jonathan said as he moved over to stand beside Johnston. “Carry on and forget I’m here. I just need to see this for myself.”

Johnston half-turned, nodded at Jonathan, then turned back to his officers and began issuing fresh orders.

In the space of a couple of minutes, Johnston’s orders brought cohesion to the massive number of shuttles and fighters that had been forming up. Then he opened a COM channel to all his troops.

“Soldiers, listen carefully. I’m about to give the order to attack,” he informed them. “We have trained for this for months. Every one of you knows what is expected of you, so I don’t need to say anything more about why we’re here or why we fight. But I do want you to know this: Emperor—or Imperator—Somerville has joined me in my CnC. He will be watching your every move. So, go now and fight for your families, for each other, and for your Emperor. Let’s show these Praetorians what we can do! All attack waves—begin your assault now.”

Immediately, the first invasion wave shot forward, racing down through Gayla’s atmosphere. All around the planet, shuttles moved toward their targets. Half a million troops were to be landed in the first wave. Every sizable city and important industrial zone was being attacked at once. Months ago, Jonathan had informed Johnston that the invasion needed to clearly signal the Allies’ dominance over the Praetorian Guard. That was exactly what Johnston was attempting.

Thousands of missiles and even more laser beams reached up to greet the landing forces. A handful of tungsten spears shot down past the shuttles, silencing as many ground weapons as possible. Marine atmospheric fighters swooped in, slamming missiles and other weapons into Gayla’s defenders. They were immediately met by Praetorian fighters. Both sides took losses, but as the shuttles neared, the Praetorian fighters tried to peel away to intercept them. Fresh squadrons of atmospheric fighters, along with Georgia’s fighters, slashed into them before they could reach the shuttles.

Jonathan found himself glancing between the main display and the smaller ones behind and around him. Each one showed a different assault force trying to secure its LZ. He saw hundreds of shuttles being shot down. He hoped most were assault shuttles tasked with engaging enemy defenses, but some had to be full of helpless marines. Then, the landing shuttles began to touch down. Marines, Gramrians, and Karacknids streamed out of them. Some came under intense fire, while others secured their LZs without incident.

Within half an hour, perimeters of ground and air defenses had been established around every LZ. Then the invasion forces began to move out. In division and battalion strength, they advanced on their targets. Vicious tank battles broke out on Gayla’s open plains, intense and savage hand-to-hand fighting erupted in the planet’s thick jungles, and in the air, shuttles and atmospheric fighters continued to duke it out.

The bloodshed appalled Jonathan. Fighting a battle in space at least felt clean. When an enemy ship was blown apart, there was almost never any sight or sound of the suffering its crew went through. Now, though, he saw far too many of his troops blown apart by explosions or cut down by laser beams that melted deep wounds into their bodies. Still, he forced himself to watch as his soldiers fought and died for him.

Some forces achieved great success. They easily broke through the weak Praetorian defenses guarding some of the smaller cities and moved their way in to secure key administrative positions. However, on more than one occasion, Karacknid civilians turned on the invaders, resulting in a great deal of slaughter. Where the cities were taken by Jonathan’s Karacknid forces, there was less civilian resistance. However, where it occurred, Jonathan’s Karacknids showed no mercy. Jonathan recoiled at the senseless killing. He wanted to immediately contact Tasata-su on his flagship and order him to get his troops under control. Yet he saw Johnston watching the same images – and saying nothing.

Jonathan knew what Johnston was thinking: the Karacknids had their own ways. The civilians who tried to fight back knew what would happen to them if they lost. Both the attackers and defenders understood the consequences of their actions. Yet it still didn’t sit right with Jonathan. However, he kept his mouth closed. He had said he wouldn’t interfere, and so he didn’t.

Other events quickly grabbed his attention anyway. It started within one of the larger Karacknid cities. Just as the Allied forces had begun to push about a third of the way toward its center, a massive counterattack was launched. Enemy fighters that had been held in reserve rushed in to bomb the Allied troops, destroying large swaths of their own city. Then Praetorian warriors and tanks came surging out from underground bases within the heart of the city. In quick succession, other counterattacks began across several more cities including Gayla’s capital.

However, Johnston was ready for what was thrown at his forces. In a clear and calm voice, he barked out orders for his different formations to fall back. He then drew lines on the holo images of the cities for his forces to hold. Next, fresh waves of shuttles came racing in toward the cities. The first shuttles unleashed missiles and laser beams onto the Praetorian forces, leveling more of the cities. Then special forces marines were landed behind and on the flanks of the counterattacking forces just as they ran into the defensive lines Johnston had set up. With ruthless, methodical precision, the Allied forces began to surround and cut off the Praetorian forces, forcing them into smaller and smaller pockets of resistance. One by one, they were each destroyed.

Two hours after the landings had begun, half the planet had been secured. Much of the attention around Jonathan began to turn toward Taso’tar, Gayla’s capital. Home to nearly half a billion Karacknids and with a footprint of fifteen thousand square miles, it was by far the largest objective Johnston’s troops were trying to capture. Half a million troops had been committed to the task, and it was where the bloodiest fighting had been happening. As many shuttles were now flying up from Taso’tar bringing back the wounded as were landing with fresh troops.

For another hour, Jonathan watched as, city block by city block and mile by mile, Johnston’s soldiers pushed deeper into the city. Twice, the Praetorian warriors counterattacked, but both times they were repulsed. Then the primary goal of the invasion came into visual range of the troops on the ground. Jonathan was able to see its massive spires through their live feeds that were being streamed around him.

The Imperator’s Palace dwarfed all other buildings around it. The large dome of its throne room was easily the size of an Enterprise-class carrier, and the eight spires that surrounded it each looked like battlecruisers reaching up toward the sky. Though no one now sat on its throne, this was the objective Jonathan needed to capture. For as long as he held it, no other Karacknid could proclaim himself Imperator and demand the obedience of every Karacknid clan.

As Johnston’s forces pushed on toward the Palace, the Praetorian Guard stopped retreating before their enemies. Instead, they dug in and fought over every inch. Protecting the Palace was the reason for their existence. If they failed in this, their shame would be complete.

The fighting became so intense that it seemed thousands of Allied soldiers were being killed or wounded every minute. Explosions and fires quickly surrounded the Palace. Attack shuttles, tanks, armored personnel carriers, and Allied soldiers fought at point-blank range with the defenders. For every Allied soldier that fell, it seemed like at least two Praetorians died—yet more kept taking their place.

“Okay,” Johnston said to his officers. “We are almost there. Send in Lieutenant Colonel Dawes.”

Jonathan recognized the name immediately. Only then did he realize he hadn’t seen Dawes’ battalion involved in any of the fighting so far. On the main display, which still showed Gayla, a group of shuttles that had been waiting in orbit since the invasion began started to move. He held them in reserve just for this, Jonathan guessed. It is almost over then.

*

As his shuttle plunged through Gayla’s atmosphere, Dawes went through his customary routine of checking weapons and munitions, trying not to think about how vulnerable his shuttle was. Around him, every special forces marine was dead silent. For more than three hours now, they had watched their comrades fight and die to take the planet. Now it was their turn, and they wanted revenge for the tens of thousands who had fallen. Dawes had already briefed them over and over throughout the battle, so he didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knew exactly what was expected of them.

“Coming up on the city now,” the shuttle’s pilot called out. Before he finished speaking, threat alarms sounded that drowned out the pilots voice. Without warning, the shuttle swerved sharply. On his HUD, Dawes had been watching the feed from the shuttles around him, and he saw two missiles streak through space right where his shuttle had been. Other explosions erupted nearby, showing where other shuttles hadn’t been so lucky.

Dawes’ armored hands clenched into fists. His people were dying, and he could do nothing for them. From his shuttle and the rest of those carrying his battalion, hypervelocity missiles were launched back toward where the Praetorian missiles had come from. Over a hundred explosions erupted deeper within the city. Then the shuttles dived low to the ground, racing across rooftops and weaving between the spires of larger Karacknid buildings.

“Touching down now!” the shuttle pilot called out as the shuttle suddenly braked, and everyone felt their restraints tighten around them. Then the restraints released, and Dawes was charging out of the shuttle with his marines.

He was immediately greeted with the sights, sounds, and smells of a city under attack. Smoke rose from a thousand different fires, and in the distance, the explosions of hypervelocity missiles and the steady crackle of small arms fire filled Dawes’ ears. In front of him, though, things were more orderly. His shuttle and ten others had landed in a large grassy square, one of the many parks spread throughout Gayla’s capital. The park was full of tanks and formations of marines, while other marines could be seen defending the streets and approaches to the park. Though they all looked like they had seen a lot of fighting, Dawes’ trained eye told him they were all still in good fighting shape.

Within moments of his feet touching the strangely colored orange grass, a Major stepped up in front of Dawes. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said, snapping a quick salute. “I am Major Denver. I was tasked with securing the LZ for your battalion. I’ll be joining the assault on the Palace.”

“Very good, Major. We will commence as soon as the rest of my soldiers are down,” Dawes said. As his shuttle took off behind him and another swept in to take its place, Dawes gestured for Denver to walk with him. “What is the status of your forces?”

“We’ve taken nearly twenty-five percent casualties, Colonel,” Denver answered. “But most are injuries rather than fatalities. The rest of us are all eager to get this finished.”

“So am I, Major, so am I,” Dawes agreed, sensing the pain the Major was trying to keep from his voice. “Now, I’d better get to my staging position. I’ll signal you when we are ready.”

“Understood, sir,” Denver said, giving Dawes another salute. Dawes returned it. He then took a moment to look around the LZ as more of his marines charged off their shuttles. Satisfied, he made his way to where his company captains had gathered.

“Everyone is in position, Colonel,” Domingo said as Dawes approached. “The defenses look as formidable as we expected,” he added, then nodded to the other marine forces arrayed around the park. “But we have good support.”

“That we do,” Dawes agreed. Having watched much of the battle from orbit, he knew how hard his fellow marines had fought over the last several hours. “Alright, get back to your companies then,” Dawes said to his four captains.

As they left, he began cycling through several live feeds from different recon drones and advanced squads watching the Palace. Already, several companies were exchanging fire with the Palace’s defenders, making it easy to identify many of the Praetorian positions. Other hidden firing positions and weapon emplacements were also marked, ready to be targeted once the attack began.

Next, he connected to the commanders’ COM channel for the assault. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Dawes; my battalion is on the ground and ready to proceed.”

“Very good, Colonel. Everyone else is ready too,” Brigadier General Jennings replied. “All battalions, this is your thirty-second warning. I’m giving the go-ahead to our air support now.”

Dawes switched COM channels again. “Thirty seconds until the attack begins,” he said to all his marines. “Remember, hold back until my say-so.”

A great roar marked the beginning of the attack. Atmospheric fighters and shuttles stormed toward the Palace, launching hypervelocity missiles and dropping chaff and smoke bombs. At the same time, the eight battalions surrounding the Palace began their advance. Tanks blasted holes into the large, fortified wall that surrounded the Palace. As soon as they fired, marines, Gramrians, and Karacknids charged forward while firing squads laid down a withering amount of covering fire.

Despite the onslaught, almost as much fire came back against the attackers. Though both sides were largely firing blindly, missiles still slammed into the midst of charging marines and blew the tops off tanks. Nevertheless, the Allied assault pushed forward. The open ground between the main Palace buildings and its outer walls became a killing field. Hundreds fell, yet within seconds, Allied soldiers emerged from the smoke surrounding the Palace and reached its walls. Immediately, they began firing up at the defenders with far more accuracy, silencing many of the Praetorian gunners. The defenders’ fire, however, became just as accurate.

In a desperate bid to find cover, the Allied forces began blowing openings into the Palace and charging in. However, they immediately met intense resistance. Dawes watched the feeds from marines and recon drones. On the other side of every breach, it looked like hundreds of Praetorians were waiting for the attackers. They’ve gathered all the forces they can into the Palace, he realized.

Quickly, the lower floors of the Palace became a bloodbath as charging Allied soldiers slammed into the defenders. Intense firefights and even hand-to-hand combat broke out in every room and corridor.

“Time to go!” Dawes shouted to his battalion. So far, the entire attack had been a diversion. Everything now rested on his four companies of augmented marines.

Immediately, Dawes’ battalion sprang into action, charging into the clouds of chaff and smoke that surrounded the Palace. Fire still rained down upon them from the upper floors, but it was nothing compared to what the first wave of attackers had faced. As he charged with A Company, Dawes had to focus as much on jumping over fallen soldiers as dodging enemy fire. In no time at all, they were through a broken section of the Palace wall, crossed its open courtyard, and reached the Palace itself. The sound of explosions and weapons fire from inside the breaches greeted them.

Dawes’ marines didn’t head for any of the breaches, nor did they stop their charge. Instead, they lifted their left arms and fired grappling hooks high into the air. The hooks smashed into the large spires that towered above the main dome of the Palace and latched on tightly. As soon as they reached the Palace, the special forces marines jumped. Motors in their arms began retracting, pulling them up higher and faster than their augments and combat armor would normally allow. Then, without breaking stride, they smashed into the Palace walls and began to run upward. Each of Dawes’ four companies charged up one of the Palace’s six spires.

The spires were forty stories high before they tapered off into points. Dawes followed Domingo’s company as they ascended all the way to the thirty-eighth story. Along the way, he fired plasma bolts at Praetorian warriors who poked their heads out of windows to shoot down upon them. Domingo’s first platoon then planted shaped charges to breach into the thirty-eighth floor. Within a second of the detonation, tens of marines charged through the breach.

As they ascended, the spires narrowed, and their top floors contained only a handful of rooms. It took the marines mere moments to clear them, as there were only a couple of Praetorian warriors guarding them. The defenders’ focus was firmly fixed on the main attack and the fighting spreading up from the Palace’s ground floor.

Like a warm knife through butter, Dawes’ four companies then began to charge down each of their spires. Each floor was accessed by a central spiral staircase that wound up the middle of the spires. These became the focus of the most intense fighting. Dawes’ marines dropped grenades and poured fire down onto the Praetorian warriors who tried to come up to confront them. More than once, marines jumped off their part of the stairs to land behind or right in the midst of the stiffest resistance they faced.

Initially, Dawes kept himself back from the front of the charge. Quickly though, he found himself thrust into the fight. As marines fell and the injured were pulled back, he suddenly faced four Praetorian warriors charging up the staircase toward him. He dropped two with plasma bolts to their faces. Then the stairs and wall beside him erupted as laser beams slashed into them. A grenade hurled by a marine detonated just in time, throwing off the aim of the two remaining Karacknids and lifting both into the air before smashing them down at Dawes’ feet. Marines behind him dispatched them before Dawes could point his rifle at them.

Battle cries snapped Dawes’ head back up as more warriors emerged onto the staircase several floors below him. Immediately, he began to pour fire down upon them. As he did, a fresh platoon charged past his position and continued the rapid descent A Company was making down its spire. Within seconds, the fighting passed by Dawes, and he found himself in relative peace once again.

Stepping back into a cleared corridor, Dawes focused on his HUD and the readouts on his four companies. They were making good progress. Within a minute of entering the spires, they were already halfway to their target floor. On the tenth floor, each of the spires connected to the Palace’s main throne room. However, even in the few seconds that he watched the progress of his companies, their rate of losses began to climb. The Praetorian commander knows what we’re doing!

“Keep advancing, no matter what,” Dawes said to his company Captains. They couldn’t slow now, for it would only mean death.

As the marines kept charging, the casualties continued to quickly rise. Dawes moved in and joined the front of Domingo’s assault, adding his fire to Domingo’s lead squads. Then a fresh wave of Allied soldiers joined the main attack. Entering the Palace’s ground floor, they exerted even more pressure on the Praetorian warriors fighting down there. It gave Dawes’ four battalions a measure of respite. Still, it was only through intense firefights that they continued to make progress down each of their four spires.

Just four minutes after breaching the spires, Dawes’ first marines reached the tenth floor. By chance, it was Domingo’s marines who reached their objective first. As soon as they began to spill out onto the tenth floor, they encountered a swell of Praetorian warriors waiting for them, guarding the corridors to the giant throne room. Immediately, Dawes ordered the area to be cleared with high explosive grenades and hypervelocity missiles. As he pushed forward, Dawes once again found himself at the front of the fighting.

With C Platoon of A Company, he fought his way down the wide corridor that led to the throne room. Ahead of him, through the smoke and fires, he could see two massive, ornately carved doors that had to open into the throne room. In front of them, Praetorian warriors had set up several metallic barriers they were using as cover. Marines all around Dawes were falling, yet C Platoon surged forward nonetheless. As some squads laid down covering fire and hurled grenades to keep the defenders hunkered down behind their cover, Dawes and other squads sprinted forward.

As he approached the nearest barricade, Dawes flung himself to the ground just as a Praetorian warrior poked his head around the barrier and began to raise his rifle. Throwing his feet out in front of him, Dawes slid across the metallic floor and rounded the side of the barricade. With his plasma rifle already shouldered and aimed, he immediately released a stream of bolts into the warriors hiding behind the barricade. They all fell to his fire.

Moments later, the remnants of C Platoon were at the two ornate doors. Domingo appeared with more marines shortly after.

“It’s locked tight!” someone shouted.

“Blow it,” Dawes ordered.

The shaped charges were quickly set and then detonated, blowing both doors off their hinges. Chaff, smoke, and flashbang grenades were hurled into the throne room. Then the marines charged.

However, no enemy fire greeted them. Instead, only the sounds of their grenades and heavy footfalls echoed throughout the throne room. As the marines charged out of the smoke, they all snapped their rifles up toward the immense throne set on a high platform at the far end of the room. Dawes’ eyes widened at the sight of it. The throne looked as though it had been built for a giant twenty feet tall, not a Karacknid.

What had drawn every marine’s attention, though, were the four Karacknid warriors standing before the throne. Each wore bright red and gold armor adorned with hundreds of ornate carvings depicting Karacknid warriors dueling with one another. Each warrior was as tall as the Clan Lord Tasata-su had fought, and in their arms, they carried long, curved, jagged swords. Dawes had seen these weapons once before in a briefing packet Tasata-su had prepared for his marines on Karacknid warrior culture. They were ancient weapons used only for official ceremonies. Yet to Dawes’s eyes, they looked dangerous enough.

Despite the danger immediately in front of them, all four Karacknid warriors stood perfectly still. Their eyes blazed as they stared at the enemy who had dared to set foot in their Imperator’s sacred throne room, silently challenging anyone to come and take the throne from them.

Chapter 48

In the end, the Karacknids only respected one thing—an opponent’s strength of arms. That is what we showed them.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

“Hold your fire!” Dawes ordered, though the sheer sight of the Karacknids had already stopped his marines in their tracks. “Lay down your weapons,” Dawes called out across the throne room. “You are defeated. We have taken the Palace and the throne room. Your deaths will accomplish nothing.”

“We have sworn to let no one but the true Imperator of the Karacknid Empire sit on this throne,” one of the warriors bellowed. It was impossible to tell which, for it seemed as though neither their bodies nor their mouths moved. “You blaspheme everything we stand for simply by being here. Fight us or leave this Palace and planet!”

Dawes opened his mouth to order his marines to fire but stopped short as a strange sense of peace flowed through him. Without knowing why, he suddenly felt certain about what he had to do. The entire purpose of Somerville and Johnston’s invasion was to show their superiority by conquering every city at once. Taking the Palace and throne room was crucial to this plan. If they could demonstrate to Gayla’s populace that the Praetorian Guard couldn’t hold the Palace, the Guard would have failed its very reason for existing.

And that is why you are here, Dawes thought to himself as he let go of his plasma rifle. It hit the ground with a thud, causing the marines around him to glance at him. More than one face frowned.

Dawes didn’t notice; he was already stepping forward. “Hold fire,” he repeated as he drew his short sword and knife from their sheaths. “And record this. Transmit it across the planet,” he added, remembering Tasata-su’s orders to him when the General had fought his cousin.

“Colonel, what are you doing?” Domingo hissed.

“Hold your fire, Captain,” Dawes repeated. “Leave them to me.”

“But Colonel!” Domingo protested.

Dawes ignored him, his attention already fully focused on the four warriors in front of him. “How do you want to do this?” he called out to them. “One at a time or all at once? It makes no difference to me,” he lied. “You are all servants of a failed Imperator. The throne you guard is empty. You stand for nothing. I will kill you any way you want!”

For the first time since his marines had forced their way into the throne room, the four Karacknid warriors moved. Snarls hissed from their lips as they raised their jagged swords two-handed in a Karacknid sign of challenge. Then they charged.

Dawes fought down a sudden eruption of panic, then he started forward too. At first, he moved at half his full speed. Just before the first Karacknid reached him, he surged forward at full tilt. Every one of his augmented muscles strained as he moved as fast as his enhanced combat armor allowed.

Sparks flew as his short sword connected with the Karacknid’s blade. He was disappointed when his weapon didn’t slash through the ancient ceremonial weapon. It had clearly been forged well. His disappointment lasted only a fraction of a second as he swung his long nano-carbon knife and felt it bite deep into the forearm of the warrior.

Before a howl of pain could escape from the Praetorian, Dawes was already spinning away. The sword of the second warrior sliced cleanly through the air where he had just been. Dawes jabbed his sword into the warrior’s side as he swept past him. Blood spurted as the razor-sharp blade cut through armor, skin, and flesh.

Turning forward again, Dawes was just in time to see the wide swing the third warrior was aiming at his neck. This time, Dawes raised his sword just high enough to deflect the strike, and then he allowed his and his attacker’s momentum to slam them into one another.

Normally, such a move would be suicidal, as the deadly claws of a Karacknid would sweep up and into their enemy’s torso. However, this Karacknid’s hands were still tightly gripping his sword, whereas it was Dawes, with his free hand clasping his knife out in front of him, who impaled his opponent.

Knowing he couldn’t stay still for even a fraction of a second, Dawes shoved the Praetorian back, towards where he knew the fourth warrior was. Then he jumped forward again to meet the fourth Praetorian before the others had time to turn and catch him.

The fourth warrior shoved his comrade aside and then set upon Dawes with a flurry of blows. Though his attacker only had one weapon to Dawes’s two, it was just about all Dawes could do to deflect each strike as they rained down upon him.

Right away, Dawes realized what his opponent was trying to do. None of the blows were strong enough to kill him, but they were holding him in place long enough to let the other three Praetorians surround him. Dawes had only one option: he had to go on the offensive.

As the fifth blow came sweeping in, Dawes stepped into it. Instead of trying to just deflect the attack, Dawes swung his sword with all his might. Sparks flew as the two weapons smashed into one another. Both weapons went flying back, yet even as his arms and shoulders fought against the momentum of his weapon, Dawes flung his head forward. The forehead of his combat armor’s helmet struck the Karacknid warrior’s face right on his armored nose.

Dawes’s eyes watered from the force of the blow. He didn’t hear a crack that might have suggested his opponent’s nose had been broken. Yet the warrior took half a step back as his head bent over. Dawes didn’t hesitate. With his momentum still carrying him forward, he shoulder-charged the warrior, flinging him to the ground.

After three more quick strikes, Dawes skidded to a halt right in front of the giant throne. Immediately, he spun around and raised his weapons in a defensive posture. His charge through the Praetorian warriors had been lightning quick—so fast that the four warriors were still turning to face him as he raised his weapons.

For a couple of seconds, nobody moved. They all stared at one another, sizing each other up and regaining their composure. Then the third Praetorian, the one Dawes had stabbed with his knife, suddenly dropped his sword. The clang of the weapon bouncing on the metallic floor of the throne room was quickly followed by the thuds of the warrior falling to his knees and then landing flat on his face.

Before the other three could close ranks with one another, Dawes charged through them once again. The warrior he had headbutted still looked dazed, so Dawes flung his knife at him as he flew forward. The warrior tried to raise his sword to deflect the knife, but he was too slow. With a wet thud, the knife embedded itself between the warrior’s chest armor and helmet, right into his throat. For a second time, Dawes allowed his momentum to smash him right into the warrior. This time, he pulled his knife out as he spun away to face the next warrior.

The second warrior Dawes had first charged past stepped back, clearly favoring his left side where Dawes had sliced him open. At the same time, the first warrior stepped beside the second. Together, they held their swords up in a defensive position.

They fear me now! Dawes realized.

Seizing on their hesitation, Dawes attacked. He landed three quick blows against the first warrior, driving him back, then spun and focused on the second warrior. His sword and knife became a blur as he hacked and slashed at the warrior, desperately trying to get a blade in past his defenses before the first warrior could come at him again. Sparks and then blood flew as he connected with the warrior’s sword, armor, and then flesh. Twice his sword cut into the warrior’s flesh. With a gasp, the warrior stumbled back, disoriented and in a lot of pain.

Dawes wanted to surge forward for the kill, but his senses told him he didn’t have the time. Instead, he spun again just as the first warrior brought an overhead blow down towards him. Dawes fell to his knees to give himself the time he needed to bring his sword up to deflect the blow. Then, in a flash, he stabbed out with his knife into the first warrior’s calf. The warrior hissed in pain, but even as he did, he kicked out with his leg, hitting Dawes’s wrist. White-hot pain shot up his arm, and he lost his grip on his knife. It stayed in the warrior’s calf as the warrior firmly planted his injured foot and prepared another kick with his other leg.

Dawes saw it coming and threw himself to the ground. Rolling, he immediately jumped back to his feet and turned to face the first warrior as he grasped his sword with both hands. The warrior let out a battle cry as he charged. The sound of their swords clashing filled the throne room as they traded blows back and forth. The warrior then let out an even greater howl as he brought his sword down towards Dawes’s shoulder with all his strength. Dawes was shunted back as he deflected the blow. The warrior used the moment’s respite to duck down. Dawes’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Then the warrior straightened back up and, lightning quick, flung the knife he had pulled from his calf at Dawes.

Dawes brought up his sword like a bat and deflected it, only to find the warrior’s sword slicing down at him again. In desperation, Dawes tried something he knew was almost impossible to pull off. Letting go of his sword with his left hand, he swung it out towards the sword, reaching inside its cutting arc. The timing had to be perfect—and it was. The back of Dawes’s hand connected with the flat of the sword just before its blade hit his forearm. The force was just enough to turn the edge of the blade ever so slightly. Instead of cutting straight into his arm and slicing off his hand, the warrior’s sword scraped along Dawes’s armor.

At the same time, Dawes thrust forward with his own sword. The Karacknid warrior couldn’t avoid the attack. Instead, his momentum carried him right onto the tip of Dawes’s weapon. The blade punched through the warrior’s armor, into his chest, and out the other side. A deep exhale Dawes was all too familiar with flowed from the warrior’s lips as he collapsed onto Dawes’s shoulder.

Quickly, Dawes stepped back and pulled his sword free as the warrior crumpled to the ground. Even as a great weight of exhaustion flowed into his arms and legs, Dawes turned to look for his final opponent. The second Praetorian stood just a couple of steps away. Blood dripped down his right forearm while a steady stream flowed from his side and down his left leg. The warrior raised his sword in front of his face in a Karacknid sign of respect. Then he roared as he charged.

Dawes’s arms felt like lead as he lifted his sword. Fear shot through him as he knew they didn’t have the strength to deflect the incoming blow. Yet as both weapons collided, it was the Praetorian’s that was sent flying wide. He is weaker than me! Immediately, Dawes pulled back his sword, then slashed at the warrior’s neck with all the strength and speed he had left. The Praetorian failed to get his weapon back in time to defend himself. Dawes’s blow bit deep into the warrior’s neck, slicing arteries and veins. A torrent of blood immediately began flowing out over the warrior’s armor and down his torso. A moment later, the warrior fell to the ground beside his comrades.

An immense exhaustion immediately overwhelmed Dawes. He collapsed to his knees, gulping deep breaths of air. Pain from his wrist and several other blows and cuts flared into his consciousness as his adrenaline began to drop. Marines surrounded him a moment later, and Domingo grabbed his shoulder to help him stay upright. Cheers and cries of victory from the marines filled the throne room. Dawes barely heard them, simply amazed that he was still alive.

What were you thinking, you fool! he said to himself as he looked at the massive frames of the dead warriors around him. Now that it was over, he couldn’t even remember why he had done it. What a fool, he repeated to himself, though mostly he was just happy to be alive. Then another thought came to him as he looked up at the large throne. It is over. We have done it.

*

The same words flowed through Jonathan’s mind. It is over. He took a half step back and then slumped into one of General Johnston’s command chairs. Once again, Dawes had done the impossible. Jonathan was only dimly aware of the martial feat Dawes had just accomplished though. His mind was elsewhere. We have done it, Father. I have stayed the course. I have finished what you started.

Jonathan’s mind couldn’t help but return to the moment his father’s dreadnought had slammed into Tanaka-lan’s. His father had given his life to give the Allied fleet a chance at victory at New Shanghai. That victory had led Jonathan, and all those who had followed him, here to this day. Everything his father had died to bring about was now coming to fruition.

Alongside his father, many other faces began to fill Jonathan’s mind. Faces he knew and loved, like Emilie and Becket, and faces he had only grown up hearing about, like Georgia Gupta, his father’s oldest friend. So many had given their lives to get him and his fleet to this moment. So much had been sacrificed.

And now it is over, Jonathan repeated to himself, hardly able to take it in. All across Gayla, the fighting still raged, but most of the cities had been taken now. Gayla’s capital was almost entirely theirs, fighting persisting in only a few pockets. Most importantly of all, the Imperator’s Palace was his. Without Gayla, and without the Palace, no Karacknid could crown himself Imperator. No Karacknid warrior would be able to bind the other clans to himself. As long as Jonathan held the Karacknid homeworld, no invasion fleet like the one that had nuked Earth when his father had been young, nor like Tanaka-lan’s, which had attacked so many of the Empire’s worlds, could threaten Jonathan’s Empire and his people.

For at least several minutes, Jonathan remained seated as the marine officers around him continued to shout out orders while the Palace was secured and the fighting continued across Gayla. Only after some time did Jonathan remember where he was and begin to look around. When he did, he found General Johnston standing over him, smiling down at him.

When their eyes met, Johnston held out a hand, and when Jonathan took it, he pulled him to his feet. “Your father would be proud of you, my boy. You’ve become an even greater leader than he was. You have won the freedom for everything your father fought for.”

Jonathan had no words. He simply nodded as he felt his eyes watering.

Johnston’s eyes did the same, and then the old General pulled Jonathan into a hug. In his mind, Jonathan could only think of the last hug his father had given him before they had faced Tanaka-lan for the last time. I stayed the course, he said to his father’s memory one last time. Then he simply lost himself in his friend’s embrace as all the grief and weight of responsibility that had burdened him since his father’s death began to lift and disappear. It truly was over.

Chapter 49

Jonathan Somerville’s genius should not be underplayed. He accomplished what most thought impossible. Between them, even including the Eaglaton Protectorate, the Allies did not have the ships, soldiers, or industrial capacity to conquer and control a tenth of the Karacknid Empire. Yet by allying with some of the Karacknid Clans and, even more crucially, by dividing the others, he found a way to forge a lasting peace. Of course, the Karacknid menace has never fully gone away, but the peace Somerville won has endured the test of time.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Gayla, 23rd July 2515 AD, (seven days later).

Though most of the major cities were secured within the first day of the landings, it took a full week for Gayla to be completely pacified. Even then, Tasata-su and his officers guessed that at least fifty thousand Praetorian Guard warriors had gone to ground. Everyone expected them to begin fighting a guerrilla war in the coming days and weeks. However, beyond them, the rest of the planet was slowly coming to terms with their situation. For many, the fact that they had been conquered by an alliance of alien species was deeply shameful. Jonathan’s presence and his claim to be Tanaka-lan’s true heir only made it worse.

Yet, at the same time, the presence of Tasata-su and the other two Clan Lords Jonathan had brought, as well as their warriors, elicited different feelings from the conquered masses. Being invaded by a coalition of other Karacknid clans was not something new to Gayla’s people. For the most part, where Jonathan garrisoned Karacknid warriors to watch over the conquered cities, the general public accepted the new status quo.

Aware of the many emotions and responses to his conquest, Jonathan threw himself into overseeing the administration of the planet. A great deal of its infrastructure had been destroyed in the fighting, and so all the resources of his fleet were turned towards rebuilding. At the same time, Jonathan met with as many of the captured Praetorian Guard senior officers and the officials from the planet who would meet with him. None were willing to accept him as their Imperator. However, he did give those who promised not to resist his rule their freedom, and then he quickly put them to work in the rebuilding effort.

Throughout all the other work he did, Jonathan focused a great deal of effort on repairing the Imperator’s Palace. Whether Gayla’s citizens or leaders accepted him, he had three clans who had sworn to him, and they had come to Gayla with certain expectations – expectations he had to fulfill.

That was why, just eight days after defeating the Praetorian Guard forces in orbit and on Gayla’s surface, Jonathan gathered all his senior commanders and all of Gayla’s leaders into the throne room of the Imperator’s Palace. He had a ceremony to complete.

Now, he stood alone within the large corridor that led to the throne room. Around him, all the scorch marks and blood from the assault on the Palace had been scrubbed clean. Before him, however, the two large doors that Dawes’ marines had blasted off their hinges still showed signs of the damage the charges had done to them. With no time to commission new ones, the doors had been bent and formed back into shape and reattached.

As ceremony dictated, Jonathan walked up to the doors. For a moment, he stopped in front of them and simply stared. It felt like his whole life had been leading to this point. He had defeated his father’s enemies, and now he was going to forge a peace that he hoped would last for generations. A sudden nervousness struck him. What if they don’t accept it? a voice asked him. Or if it doesn’t work?

I will make it work! Jonathan replied sternly in his own voice.

He then pulled a small datapad out of his pocket and tapped it to bring up a holo image. It showed Becca and his newborn son. News of the birth had reached Gayla just three days ago. It had taken four months for the messenger ship to make its way north and finally find Jonathan. As far as Jonathan was concerned, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a reminder of why all the deaths and sacrifices his fleet had suffered were worth it – and why all the administrative work he was now neck-deep in was necessary. This is why we fight!

As he stared at the image of his family, Jonathan’s heart felt like it was ready to burst. He wanted nothing more than to hold the two of them. They were both perfect. I will make it work, for them, Jonathan repeated to himself.

For another couple of seconds, he stared at the blue eyes and round face of his son. Then he took a deep breath and looked back up at the two large doors. Reaching up, he beat on them with the butt of the curved and jagged ceremonial sword he carried. It was time to finish everything his father had started two decades ago – and to secure the future of his first born son.

For a moment, there was no response but the metallic echo of his strikes reverberating around the large corridor. Then a loud Karacknid voice called out from the other side of the doors. “Who seeks to enter?”

Jonathan took a breath to compose himself, then thundered a response. “I, Jonathan Somerville, conqueror of Gayla and heir of Imperator James Somerville, the victor in trava-klan against Imperator Tanaka-lan. I come to claim what is mine by right of birth and conquest.”

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then the doors let out a creak. A moment later, they began to open outward toward Jonathan. Two large Karacknid warriors wearing the same armor as the Praetorian Guard warriors Dawes had killed appeared as they pushed the heavy doors wide open. Then they fell to one knee before Jonathan with their eyes downcast.

Beyond them, over four thousand of Jonathan’s senior officers and officials turned to watch him enter. They were arrayed down either side of the walkway that led through the long throne room and up to the large throne. Holding his head up high and with his eyes fixed on the throne, Jonathan slowly and deliberately began to walk forward into the silent chamber. As he passed each row of officers, they turned to watch him proceed to the throne he had conquered.

It took a full minute for Jonathan to reach the raised dais the throne was on. When he did, he stepped up onto it, then moved in front of the throne and turned, standing with the throne at his back. Only then did he allow his eyes to gaze over those assembled before him. As he saw the smiling faces of Scott and Georgia and received a nod of respect from Johnston and then Shraw, the emotion of the moment was almost too much for Jonathan. The smiling faces of his friends only reminded him of how many other faces were missing.

Finally, his eyes came to rest on Tasata-su, who stood in the front row of officers. The Clan Lord raised a hand in a sign of respect. Jonathan nodded in reply and then gestured for Tasata-su to begin.

Tasata-su took two steps forward, then turned to address everyone gathered within the throne room. “Imperator Somerville stands before us as the rightful heir to this throne and the conqueror of Gayla. All who would swear to him as Emperor or Imperator, kneel!”

The sound of feet scraping and knees touching the floor filled the throne room. More than half of the gathered officers and officials obeyed—every Human and Karacknid in the chamber. “Now, swear your oaths,” Tasata-su ordered. Quickly, he turned and knelt before Jonathan. Then, almost as one, those bowing spoke. The only difference was the title Jonathan’s subjects used to refer to him.

“I swear my fealty and obedience to Emperor Somerville and his heirs. Whether by my life or death, I will serve him and our people with all my strength.”

“And I will repay fealty with honor, and obedience with position,” Jonathan replied. “And I hereby swear to devote my life to the protection of our peoples as your Emperor and Imperator.” Jonathan half-turned and looked at the throne. Now was the moment he was to sit and stake his claim over all fourteen Karacknid Clans. Yet, he didn’t sit. Instead, he took two steps to his right so that he was standing beside the throne.

“However,” Jonathan said slowly, “I will not be sitting on this throne today...” All around the room, there was an audible intake of breath. Jonathan could see shock on the faces of many of the Karacknids nearest to him, not least on Tasata-su’s face. Nevertheless, he pressed on with the plan that had come to him over the last week.

“Only an Imperator who has the loyalty of all fourteen clans can rightly sit on this throne. I will not pretend I have such loyalty, and nor will I dishonor the traditions of the Karacknid people… Therefore, the throne will stay vacant until I or one of my heirs stands here again before the bent knees of all fourteen Clan Lords,” Jonathan explained. “Only then will anyone be able to rightly claim the title of Imperator of the Karacknid Empire.

“Until that day, the Clans must work together to pursue the honor, glory, and prosperity of the Karacknid people. For too long, your former Imperators have set clan against clan and have used each of you for their own ends.

“I confess, I too have used each of your clans for my own purposes. I have fought and invaded your space to win freedom for my species. Yet, along the way, I have come to respect and honor your species and many of the things you stand for. That is why I will not claim the title of Imperator contrary to tradition. It is also why I will not now force your three clans to expend all your strength conquering those who, in truth, are your brothers.

“Instead, I intend today to begin a new phase in the history of your species. Together, the Gal-tak, Dar’kanan, and Yanum-mi clans can show your brothers a better way. One that does not forsake the martial prowess that defines your culture, but one where this pursuit of excellence is devoted towards bettering your species and extending the glory of your people—not towards pursuing the selfish whims of an Imperator who would see you sacrifice your children on the altar of his own self-inflated vainglory.”

Pausing, Jonathan looked around at all the gathered officers and officials. He let his gaze linger over the Karacknids nearest to him. Surprise and shock were still written on many of their faces, along with more than a little confusion. Importantly, though, there were no outward signs of anger. Jonathan felt more than a little relief at that.

Most importantly of all, as he fixed his eyes on Tasata-su, the Clan Lord slowly nodded in approval of what Jonathan had just done. That told Jonathan all he needed to know. Even if many of the Karacknids who now followed him weren’t entirely pleased with his decision to forgo claiming the throne without the other Clan Lords, it was Tasata-su’s approval that mattered most.

Let’s hope you’re as happy with this next bit, Jonathan thought towards Tasata-su.

“You may all stand again,” Jonathan said, gesturing for everyone to rise. Then, he turned towards a small door hidden behind the large throne. Two special forces marines stood there. Jonathan nodded to them. They disappeared through the door, reappearing a moment later carrying a much smaller version of the throne Jonathan stood beside. As they brought it out, Jonathan turned his gaze back to his Karacknid subjects. Confusion – and the Karacknid equivalent of a frown – appeared on many faces. Jonathan had to bite back a smile.

Carefully, the marines set the smaller throne down behind Jonathan. For a moment, it looked like he might sit on it. Instead, he took two more steps to his right, so he now stood on the far side of the small throne from the Imperator’s throne. Jonathan cleared his throat and began to speak again.

“As Emperor and Imperator, I now hold responsibility for over five hundred inhabited systems and thousands more uninhabited ones. I must rule here in Gayla and back on Earth. Moreover, I am a Human. While I am growing in my understanding of the ways of the Karacknid people, I know I am not truly one of you – at least, not yet.

“To that end, I therefore bestow upon Clan Lord Tasata-su the title of Steward of the Karacknid Empire. He will rule from Gayla on my behalf when I am not present here, and in my name, he will pursue the benefit of all Karacknid clans sworn to me, while protecting my claim to this planet. Clan Lord Tasata-su, come and kneel before me once more,” Jonathan said, gesturing for Tasata-su to step up onto the dais.

Tasata-su hesitated. Only the Karacknid Imperator and his personal guard were traditionally allowed onto the dais. Jonathan met his eyes and slowly nodded to him. Tasata-su stared back, clearly working through what Jonathan was proposing. Jonathan raised his eyebrows. The meaning was clear. After just having sworn an oath to obey Jonathan, was Tasata-su now going to disobey his first order?

Tasata-su relented a moment later. Slowly, he stepped forward and then onto the dais, stopping in front of Jonathan.

“Kneel,” Jonathan ordered in the same tone Tasata-su had used earlier. Tasata-su knelt.

“Do you accept the office of Steward? And do you swear to uphold the rule of your Imperator and to watch over all the Clans sworn to him in his stead as he would have you do?”

“I do,” Tasata-su responded, a little more quietly than Jonathan would have liked.

But he has sworn, Jonathan reminded himself. “Then rise, Clan Lord and Steward Tasata-su, and take your seat as my representative.”

Stepping back, Jonathan gestured towards the smaller throne.

Tasata-su stood, nodded in respect to Jonathan, and then turned to face the officers and officials. Slowly, he sat down on the throne. Jonathan immediately raised a fist into the air.

“Freedom and honor to the Empire!” he roared.

Cries of "Freedom and honor!" immediately erupted throughout the throne room as Jonathan gave both his Human and Karacknid officers words to celebrate their victory with.

“Freedom and honor!” he found himself shouting with his officers as the emotion of having thousands of Humans and Karacknids roaring in his favor finally caught up with him.

“Freedom and honor!” he bellowed again, meaning it with every fiber of his being. In those moments, he swore to himself that he would never again let any enemy threaten to conquer or enslave any who looked to him for protection. His father had lived and died for freedom and honor, and Jonathan would live for those things until his dying breath as well. “Freedom and honor!” he shouted for a fourth time.

The words continued to fill the throne room as everyone let the months and years of fear and stress from almost constant warfare flow out of them. Though he knew he still had a thousand things to do and decisions to make, Jonathan lost himself in the moment as he celebrated his victory.

He had finally accomplished everything his father had raised him to be and to do. Now, he no longer feared for his family or his people, but trusted in the man his father had made him into.

Chapter 50

And so ends my account of the Second Karacknid War. Up to that time, and for nearly half a century later, it was the bloodiest war in Humanity’s history. Though our losses were great, what we gained was far greater, for by the end of the war, Humanity’s position within the galaxy was finally secure. It was out of this war that the Empire we know and love today grew. As students of military history, we therefore have as much to be thankful for as we do to learn from the events and heroes of our past.
—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

IS Imperial, Gayla, 25th October 2515 AD, (three months later).

“Thank you all for coming,” Jonathan said as Tasata-su, Faran-su, Georgia, Scott, Johnston, Reverus, Hawcrans, and Shraw all filed into his office. “I know it has been a couple of weeks since we all met together, and I wanted us to touch base.”

“Of course, Imperator,” Tasata-su said. “We have all been busy – Admiral Scott especially.”

Jonathan nodded to Tasata-su and then smiled at Scott. She had just returned a day ago from conquering the last of the Praetorian Guard worlds to the north of Gayla. Now all of Praetorian space, and thus all the approaches to Gayla, were under his control.

When everyone had taken a seat and Jonathan’s ship’s steward served each their preferred beverage, Jonathan activated the small holo display built into his desk. It sprang to life, showing a star map of the Karacknid Empire. The three clans Jonathan now controlled, along with Praetorian space, were colored green, while the other eleven clans were split into four separate colors demarcating their differing allegiances. Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa held the allegiance of three clans each, while four of the other five clans were split into two alliances of two clans each.

The final clan, immediately to the east of Gal-tak space, remained by itself. Its main systems had been so heavily raided by Hawcrans’ fleet that they had fragmented into a handful of factions, as major families within the clan squabbled over what was left of their industrial base. In the long term, Jonathan thought there was a good chance he might be able to invade and add the Tars’tazan clan to his conquests. However, it would be years before he could spare enough ships from Gayla’s defenses to make such an endeavor successful.

Alongside the various territories and allegiances, the map also showed the known locations of each faction’s main fleets. Though some faced towards Gayla, more faced each other as each faction postured against its rivals.

“With our latest intelligence reports and Scott’s success at Tarn’nost, I am confident that we are no longer in any immediate danger,” Jonathan said. “We have the ships and supplies to fend off any attempt to retake Gayla from any of the warring factions, and there are no signs that they are preparing to work together. Rigel-ese and Canso-vasa’s attack on each other and their subsequent losses have made the dangers of two rivals working together abundantly clear.

“And finally, conditions on Gayla and many of our other worlds are beginning to improve,” Jonathan continued as he looked down from the star map. His rapid invasion north through three Karacknid clans had thrown the delicate balance of logistics within the Karacknid Empire into disarray. Freeing every sentient species within his space had made things even worse – for the short term at least. Relatively simple things, like getting enough food through to Gayla, had given Jonathan many a headache. Yet thanks to the increased supplies flowing into Karacknid space from all the allied species, things were looking up.

“There is still a great deal we have to do, of course. But chaos is giving way to order, in no small part thanks to Steward Tasata-su,” Jonathan said as he nodded to Tasata-su.

Tasata-su titled his head slightly, accepting the compliment. “That is why,” Jonathan said slowly as he looked around at his other officers, “I believe it is time for me to return to Earth. There is much I must do there to begin the process of building up our defenses here. And I have an empire there to run as well – and a wife and newborn son to meet.”

Jonathan paused and smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. Ever since the first news of the birth of his son had come, fresh letters and images had been arriving from Becca. Often, Jonathan found himself thinking of nothing else but getting to hold them both.

Realizing he was beginning to daydream, Jonathan quickly cleared his throat and continued. “I have already given Captain Matthis orders to prepare Imperial for the voyage home. I am told she should be ready to depart by the end of the day. I intend to leave Tasata-su in charge of Gayla and the Clans, and Admiral Scott in charge of the fleet. I have absolute confidence that together the two of you will be able to handle whatever problems arise.”

Scott smiled widely at Jonathan. “You have accomplished far more than any of us originally thought possible, Admiral. If anyone deserves to head home, it is you. We will hold down the fort here while you’re gone, however long that may be.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan replied warmly.

“And I will keep the clans in order on your behalf, Imperator,” Tasata-su said. “You have given us a chance to forge a new path for our people. I will not allow it to be wasted. Perhaps when you return, you will bring your son with you. I know it would encourage many to see your bloodline secure.”

Jonathan nodded, though he kept his face expressionless. His son was just a few months old, and yet already people were heaping expectations upon him. A phrase easily came to Jonathan’s mind – one he would have to teach his son: the burden of command.

He then turned to Reverus and Hawcrans. “I’m sure both of you are eager to return to your homes as well. However, I hope you will continue to keep your fleets here until the first phase of battlestations we plan to construct are complete.”

“We understand the importance of holding Gayla, Admiral,” Hawcrans assured Jonathan. “I have been planning to return to Eaglaton Space within the next week, I need to update my superiors and ensure fresh ships and supplies are sent here. However, Admiral Reverus will remain here with all but a small escort of ships for my flagship.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Jonathan replied. “None of this would have been possible without your ships and the courage of their crews. My species will forever be in your debt.”

“A debt of friendship is not a debt at all,” Hawcrans said as he bowed to Jonathan. “You uncovered the Silizzarus’ infiltration of our species, and you have ensured that we did not have to face a Karacknid invasion fleet coming against our worlds. We are equal partners in all that we have achieved together.”

Words couldn’t express how thankful Jonathan was to Hawcrans and all the Eaglatons had done to support him, and so he returned Hawcrans’ words with an even deeper bow of his own. Then he turned to Reverus. “I am glad you are staying, my friend. Scott will find your advice and combat skills invaluable.”

“Indeed I will,” Scott said. “If we ever have to split the fleet to face a threat, there is no one I would rather have as my second.”

When Shraw, who was sitting beside Scott, cleared his throat a little too loudly, everyone but the two Karacknids laughed.

“Don’t worry, Admiral Shraw, I’ll make sure to leave Scott strict orders to ensure you don’t miss out on any fighting that has to be done,” Jonathan said, chuckling.

“And in the meantime, I will just have to focus on improving my stats in the simulators against Vice Admiral Reverus,” Shraw said as he turned away from Scott, folded his arms, pretending to be upset. He only did so for a moment, though, and then he turned back to Jonathan. “I will be sad to see you go, Admiral. You have the aggression of your father and his tactical genius as well. I can give you no higher praise than that.”

“And you could say nothing that would mean more,” Jonathan replied as he gave Shraw as low a bow as he had Hawcrans.

He then looked around at all of his senior officers. Once, his father had described his closest fellow officers as “we happy few.” Now, only Scott remained alive from those days. He knew he didn’t have quite the same relationship with those who sat around his office desk, but they were all important to him.

“I will miss you all,” he said genuinely. “Even you two,” he added as he nodded to Tasata-su and Faran-su.

“And I will miss serving under you, Imperator,” Faran-su responded. “It has been an interesting experience seeing you in action. I think I now understand how you and your father defeated so many of my species' best commanders over the years. Your wild and reckless ways are not how any Karacknid commander would think to fight. But you make it work, and so you have taught me much.”

“Just make sure you stay loyal, Admiral,” Jonathan said, only half-joking. “I wouldn’t want to take to the battlefield against you, given how much you have learned about our ways.”

“Do not worry in that regard,” Tasata-su said. “I will see that he doesn’t forget his oaths. And I will keep him far too busy to have any time to start thinking about rebellion.”

“That’s what I like to hear, General,” Jonathan said with a smile.

Tasata-su nodded, then his face turned more serious. “I know I speak for all who have sworn to you when I say we will be sad to see you go, Imperator. Especially those who consider themselves part of the Free Karacknid movement. You have given us a chance to reforge our species in ways we thought we would never have. For that, you can be certain I will give my all for you.”

Again, Jonathan didn’t have the words to respond. Instead, he raised his hand to his face and made a fist – a gesture only Karacknid blood brothers shared. Tasata-su’s eyes widened slightly, but then he returned the gesture. They held each other’s eyes for several seconds, much passing between them in silence. Then Jonathan looked away, breaking the moment.

Placing both hands on his desk, he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, I’m sure there’s much more we could say, but if I’m going to leave today, there are still a lot of last-minute things I need to sort out. I just wanted to make sure I said farewell to each of you in person. It has been an honor serving with each of you.”

Looking down at his officers, Jonathan held each of their gazes for a few seconds. Then, when he was done, he stepped around his desk and made his way to the hatch leading from his office. As each officer stood and approached him, he shook their hand firmly and shared a few final words with them.

Finally, only Scott, Johnston, and Georgia were left. Scott reached out and pulled Jonathan into a hug. “He would be proud of you. As we all are,” she said as they embraced.

“As he would be of you,” Jonathan replied. “You are as responsible for all we have accomplished as anyone else.”

Scott nodded, a tear running down her cheek as she moved back from Jonathan. She then turned to Georgia and pulled her into a hug as well. Jonathan let them say their goodbyes as he turned to Johnston and held out his hand. “Don’t worry, General, I’ll have a replacement sent out for you as soon as I get back to Earth. By then, you and Tasata-su should have rooted out every last Praetorian Guard still hiding down there. And I’ll say hello to Clare and the family for you.”

Johnston grinned. “In that case, I’ll write to her and tell her about your promise. She’ll be on your case every day until you keep it.”

Jonathan smiled back. He knew all too well how persistent Johnston’s wife could be. She had practically been an aunt to him growing up, and no matter how high Jonathan rose in rank, she still treated him like a little boy she could scold at any time. “Then you can sleep easy knowing someone will soon be here to take over for you,” Jonathan replied. He then gave Johnston a salute. “Farewell for now, General.”

“Farewell, for now,” Johnston repeated as he returned Jonathan’s salute.

As both Scott and Johnston turned to leave his office, Jonathan felt an unfamiliar sadness. He knew he would see them again, likely in six months to a year, if not a little longer. Yet it felt like the end of an era. Something was telling him that they would never again all be together, devoted to a single task.

After taking a few moments to let the feeling linger, Jonathan turned to his sister. The look on her face told him she was thinking something similar. “We are very lucky to both be alive after everything we’ve been through,” Jonathan found himself saying. He then pulled her into a hug. “I am very glad you were with me throughout all this. Without your flying skills, I don’t know where we’d be.”

Georgia laughed. “You’d still be stuck back in Gal-tak space, wondering how to get your big, slow ships past one Karacknid fleet or another. It’s always us fighter pilots that have to get you slowpokes moving along.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Are you going to be like this all the way home?”

Georgia nodded, smiling. “You’re a father now. You need to build up your patience. I’m just helping you out.”

“Is that what’s happening? I guess I should thank you, then?” Jonathan said, returning his sister’s smile. Then he gave her a gentle push toward his office hatch. “Come on, the sooner we start the final preparations, the sooner we can be on our way.”

“As you command, Imperator,” Georgia said, giving Jonathan a mock salute. Then she quickly jumped ahead of him before he could give her a harder shove. This is going to be a long three months, Jonathan thought before his mind quickly turned to the long list of things he still had to get done before Imperial could break orbit.

*

Eight hours later, after putting everything in order on Gayla, Jonathan stepped onto Imperial’s bridge for what felt like the first time in weeks. A warmth passed through him at the familiarity he felt seeing all his officers at their consoles. More than anywhere else on Imperial, the bridge felt like home.

“Admiral, she is all ready to depart,” Matthis said as he stood and saluted Jonathan.

“At ease, Captain,” Jonathan said quickly, before the rest of the bridge’s officers could do the same. He then slowly made his way over to his command chair, enjoying the feeling of having nothing to worry about but the prospect of a long, monotonous journey back to Earth.

When he sat, he tapped on his command console and pulled up an image of Imperial floating in space above Gayla. Around her, fifty thousand other warships sat in a defensive formation, ready to drive away any would-be attackers. They will be enough, he assured himself, though he suddenly felt nervous about leaving Gayla. He trusted Scott and Tasata-su completely, but it still didn’t feel right to be leaving. That was, until Jonathan thought of Becca and his son. They need me more now.

Before he could give the order to break orbit, there was one more thing Jonathan knew he needed to do. “Lieutenant Rossi, open a COM channel to the entire fleet,” he requested.

“Channel open, Admiral,” Rossi responded a couple of seconds later. She then turned in her command chair to face Jonathan, as did every other officer on Imperial’s bridge.

Jonathan looked around at them, took a deep breath, and then spoke from the heart. “Allied fleet, by now the news has likely spread to all of you that Imperial will be breaking orbit momentarily. My duty to you here, and to my subjects back on Earth, requires me to return to Earth. And so, I must take my leave of you all, albeit only temporarily. For as I have sworn, I will rule from both Earth and Gayla.

“And though I leave, I do so knowing that this system and everything we have fought for and accomplished together – is in safe hands. Never before has such a diverse fleet of warships been gathered together under one banner. Together, we have forged ourselves into a single fighting force, one that has defeated every opponent that has come against us. Each and every one of you can be proud of what you have achieved. We have won lasting peace for each of our species, for our families, and for our children to come. For that, I thank you. I owe all of you a debt I cannot repay.

“But I can promise you this: I will make sure this fleet has all the fuel, munitions, and reinforcements it needs to ensure this system never falls into the hands of our enemies. I also go to ensure another generation of crew and officers are raised up to take your place. I know many of you long to return home as I do, and so I promise that I will see to it you are relieved of duty as soon as possible.

“Until that day comes, however, heed my words. Many millions have died to achieve the victory we have won together. Every one of us has lost friends and comrades. As I leave, each and every one of you must remain vigilant. As long as we hold Gayla, our homeworlds cannot be threatened. So whatever it takes, hold on to what we have achieved and do not let it go. Do this, and we will never dishonor the memory of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for the freedom of our peoples.”

Jonathan paused, took a deep breath, and nodded toward the recording device and, thus, to every officer and crewmember within his fleet. “It has been an honor leading you. You have all honored me with your service. Admiral Somerville out.”

For a few moments, Jonathan sat staring up at the holo image of his fleet. It felt wrong to be leaving them, even if there was no immediate threat. They had been through so much together, and Jonathan felt like they should be going with him wherever he went. Yet the truth was, he had other duties he now had to see to – the burden of command, he reminded himself.

Jonathan gave himself a mental nod, then looked away from the display. He smiled when he was greeted by Rossi, Harte, and Iso, all staring at him. Then he swiveled in his command chair to face where Georgia was sitting. “Well, are you ready to go home?”

Georgia nodded vigorously. “Ready and eager.”

Jonathan turned to Matthis. “Captain, set course for Earth. Take us home.”

Chapter 51

In the end, we all owe everything we have to those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

—Excerpt from Empire Ascendant, 3015 AD.

Earth, 21st January 2516 AD, (three months later).

One year, four months and twenty-two days after she left, Imperial jumped back into the Sol system. Hours before she did, Jonathan and his ship’s steward already had all his belongings packed. Even before the dreadnought reached Earth’s orbitals, Jonathan was on a shuttle racing toward his homeworld. Every warship and battlestation in orbit waggled and fired off a salvo of rockets to welcome him home, yet Jonathan barely noticed. He was only interested in one thing – seeing his family.

All the way back from Gayla, Imperial had been constantly greeted with fresh letters and recordings from Becca. Jonathan had devoured each one, yet each had made his heart ache even more. Now, finally, he was home.

To his relief, as his shuttle swooped down toward the Imperial Palace, Jonathan saw only a small welcoming party waiting for him. He knew he was going to be bombarded by Admiralty and government officials for the foreseeable future, but at least his first few moments would be private. Mother made sure they would be, Jonathan guessed.

As soon as the shuttle touched down, Jonathan had his straps undone and started toward the rear of the shuttle. In a flash, Georgia was in front of him. She then started to move far too slowly for Jonathan’s liking. Just as he was about to push past her, she half-turned and grinned at him.

“Don’t worry, brother. I know not to get in between you and your family. Though I am looking forward to seeing Mom and Rachel again too, so don’t forget about the rest of us,” she said with a wink. Quickly, she stepped aside.

Jonathan simply moved past her. She could tease him all she wanted later, but he had other things on his mind now.

As soon as he began to emerge from the shuttle, his eyes darted around. He froze as soon as he saw who he was looking for. Just twenty meters away, a little ahead of the others who had come to welcome him home, stood his wife. In her arms, she held their ten month old little boy wrapped up in a blanket. All Jonathan could see of his son was a few thick locks of blond hair, yet it was enough to take his breath away and stop him in his tracks.

As his eyes moved up and locked with those of his wife, time stood still. The worry and tension they had both carried with them since they’d last seen each other drained from their faces. Jonathan had done it – he had fought for and won a world where his son could grow up safe. And for Becca, she had her husband and the father of her child home safe.

Behind Jonathan, Georgia impatiently cleared her throat. When that didn’t work, she gave him a gentle shove forward. “Come on, we don’t have all day, lover boy.”

The movement broke Jonathan’s eye contact with Becca. Only then did he realize his legs weren’t moving. He fixed that immediately as he practically ran down the rest of the shuttle’s ramp and crossed the distance to her in seconds. Then their eyes met again, and he reached out and gently pulled her to him.

“Welcome home, sailor,” Becca said as she beamed up at Jonathan.

Then their lips met, and Jonathan hugged her a little tighter, though he was careful not to press up against their son. While he wanted to keep kissing Becca and never stop, a few babbling sounds from the bundle in Becca’s arms tugged at Jonathan’s heart. Immediately, he moved back slightly and looked down at his son for the first time. He couldn’t help the widest smile of his life from spreading across his lips as a little blue-eyed face looked up at him.

“Hello there,” Jonathan said, almost in a whisper. Ever so gently, he reached out with a finger and stroked the side of the little boy’s face.

As he did, Becca held him up a little more so that Jonathan could see him better. “Meet your son… James.”

Jonathan took a step back. Before he had left, they had talked about what to name their unborn son. Yet in all her letters since his birth, Becca hadn’t given him a name.

Becca couldn’t help laughing at the look on Jonathan’s face. “What is the matter? I thought you knew. It was your idea.”

“But your letters… I thought you had changed your mind?”

Becca shook her head. “No, of course not… I just thought it might be fun to try and surprise you. I guess I was right,” she said with another laugh.

Jonathan shook his head, then leaned in and kissed James gently on his forehead. “My little James,” he said as he moved back but kept his eyes locked onto his son’s. “There could be no better name.” He then looked up and kissed Becca again. “And no more beautiful mother.”

“Alright, alright, enough of the mushy stuff,” Christine’s voice said a moment later as she moved up beside Jonathan. Georgia was already wrapped in her other arm. “It’s my turn!”

Reluctantly, Jonathan let go of his wife and allowed his mother to pull him into a tight hug. “You have no idea how happy we are to see you home,” she whispered. “I’m so proud! Of both of you,” she added as she pulled Georgia in tighter with her other arm. “You have both become so much more than me and your father ever hoped… All of you have,” Christine said as she released Jonathan and Georgia slightly and turned them to face Edward and Rachel.

Jonathan’s eyes widened when he saw Edward; he had thought his brother would still be at Anaconsada, the Silizzarus homeworld, overseeing its occupation. “Brother!” Jonathan said excitedly as he stepped forward and pulled Edward into a hug. Then he pulled Rachel into one as well, immediately noticing how much taller and even more muscled she had become.

For several minutes, Jonathan, his siblings, Christine, and Becca all huddled close together as they continued to welcome Jonathan and Georgia home. Quickly, the discussions turned to Jonathan’s campaign and the Second Battle of Gayla. Jonathan answered a few questions but then eased himself out of the huddle and, taking Becca by the hand, led her a few steps away from the others.

“I am so proud of you,” he whispered as he kissed her again. “He is beautiful.” He then pulled Becca and James into a tight embrace. Everything else faded from Jonathan’s mind, and time passed slowly as they simply stood together, holding each other. For the first time in his life, Jonathan truly understood what his father had meant when he had spoken of true peace. Jonathan had finally found it.

*

Geneva, Earth, 1st January 2519 AD, (three years later).

After his name was called out, Jonathan stepped up to the dais. Behind him, thousands of Human and alien officials from the hundreds of worlds that now made up the Allied forces waited patiently. However, Jonathan only had eyes for the large granite pillar that towered above the dais. It was an exact replica of the one his father and the leaders of his day had built on Jaranna to commemorate all those who had died in what was now being called the First Karacknid War.

Moving across the dais, Jonathan walked over to where it touched the bottom of the monument. Without thinking, he reached out and ran his fingers across the indented rock. The granite had initially been polished smooth, but the names of the millions of people who had fought and died in what was now known as the Second Karacknid War had been engraved onto the monument. Though the vast majority of the names were written in a script far too small to read with the naked eye, they stretched all the way around the monument’s four sides and right up to the top of its one-thousand-foot height.

Jonathan’s eyes roved over the monument until he found what he was looking for. Not all the names were unreadable. Two larger lines of names ringed the monument just above head height. A wave of emotion washed over Jonathan as he read the first few names.

Emperor James Somerville. Vice Admiral Emilie Somerville. Admiral Catherine Becket.

Jonathan had to stop himself from going any further. Almost every name in the two lines belonged to dear family or friends. Instead, reaching up, he passed his fingers over his father’s name.

You showed us the way, and you showed us how. Now we have finished what you started. Rest easy, Dad.

With a renewed strength, Jonathan turned to face the thousands of invited guests who sat in the seats before the dais and the crowd of tens of thousands who had thronged into the large square built to house the monument. Reaching into his tunic, Jonathan pulled out a small datapad and accessed his speech. A day ago, he hadn’t known what to say. How could he sum up all that had happened since the first news of Tanaka-lan’s battlefleet had reached Earth? How could he do justice to the sacrifices so many had made?

Then, last night, Becca had accessed the speech his father had given at the dedication of the monument on Jaranna. The words had come quickly to him after reading his father’s words. Jonathan intended to do nothing more than echo his father’s sentiments, for now was the time to remember those who had fallen and look to the brighter future they had fought and died to bring.

As he looked out at the crowd, Jonathan saw many familiar faces. Every one of them meant a great deal to him and brought back so many memories. The most important faces sat in the front row. His mother, siblings, Becca, and little James all sat together. Already, Georgia and Rachel each had one of their mother’s hands in theirs. Years ago, Christine had been on Jaranna when her husband had given his dedication speech for the monument there. Now she was about to listen to the dedication speech for the monument built in memory of that same man. When their eyes met, Christine nodded to Jonathan, despite the emotion on her face, giving him even more strength.

Then his eyes passed on to Becca. She smiled at him and then rubbed her bulging belly. Little James had brought them so much joy that now their first daughter was only a couple of months away from being born. It was all the reminder Jonathan needed of just what his father’s death had bought for them.

Clearing his throat, Jonathan looked out at the crowd and began. “Friends, guests, and allies, welcome to my homeworld, Earth, and to the dedication of this monument, which will forever stand as a testimony to the courage, skill, and service of our greatest heroes. Heroes who have given their lives so that we and our children may enjoy the freedoms our species value so highly…”

*

Imperial Palace

Six hours after giving his speech, Jonathan finally found himself alone. After the service, his mother and Becca had hosted all the foreign dignitaries at the Palace. Myriads of people had wanted to speak with Jonathan. Eventually, he had managed to slip away to the small private library that had once been his father’s.

Now, Jonathan sat alone with his thoughts. The datapad on the small table in front of him held what he knew would be a hundred reports awaiting his attention. Officially, the war against the Karacknid clans was not over. Likely, it never would be. Yet a settled peace had developed, with none of the Karacknid clans daring to threaten the systems Jonathan controlled. Two savage counterattacks by Admiral Scott against a Clan Lord who had tried to conquer a couple of Dar’kanan systems had left the rest of the Clan Lords too scared to try anything themselves.

However, Jonathan didn’t want to think about any of that. Not today. He just wanted to remember the years before the war. Many times, he had discovered his father hiding out in this very library, sitting in the very seat Jonathan now occupied. Though Jonathan hadn’t known it at the time, his father had always been very busy. Yet never once had he turned Jonathan away or made his son feel bad for interrupting him.

Now I am the father, Jonathan thought. I hope I can be as good a one as you were.

Those were the hardest memories for Jonathan, for every time he thought about how much his father had meant to him, he could only think about how much both little James and his unborn daughter were missing out on. His father would have been brilliant with both of them. And as much as little James delighted in his nanny, Jonathan knew he would have loved his grandfather all the more.

But it is not to be, Jonathan said to himself. He is not here so that they can be.

Just then, Jonathan’s thoughts were broken by the creaking of the oak library door. His face tightened at being interrupted. But then he saw the little fingers wrapped around the edge of the door as it pushed open. A moment later, little James came running in.

“Daddy!” he said, racing over and jumping into Jonathan’s lap.

Jonathan easily lifted him up, kissed his forehead, and then sat him on his knees. “How did you get here?”

“I followed you,” James said. “But I got lost.”

“You got lost?” Jonathan asked in feigned concern. Movement from the other side of the door caught his attention. A palace staffer peeked her head in. Jonathan nodded at her in thanks. “Well, I’m glad you found me in the end. Now, what am I going to do with you? Your mother will be wondering where you are.”

James shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to go back. It’s boring!”

Jonathan laughed. “I can’t disagree with that!”

James then lifted a hand and pointed over Jonathan’s shoulder. “What is that? I want to play with that!”

Jonathan turned to see where James was pointing. His heart swelled when he saw it. The bookshelves behind his seat contained a long line of model warships his father had ordered made decades ago. Standing, Jonathan reached over and grabbed the one James had pointed to. He then sat back down and handed it to his son to hold.

“Be careful with that. It’s very important. Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a spaceship,” James said confidently as he turned the model over in his hands.

“Not just any spaceship,” Jonathan replied. “This is HMS Drake. She was a very special spaceship. She was captained by my father – your papa. His name was James, just like yours.”

Jonathan paused as so many memories filled his mind. So many of the stories he had heard as a child about his father had seemed impossible. Then he had grown up and seen for himself just the kind of man his father really was. Pride and sorrow filled him as he looked down into little James’ face.

He wrapped an arm around little James and held him tight. “Let me tell you about Drake and her captain…”

Epilogue

Iris Colony, 14th April 2544 AD, one thousand two hundred light years to the galactic southwest of Earth, (twenty-five years later).

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Tom asked as he followed his four friends into the woods his parents had told him never to enter. “What if someone finds out?”

“Relax,” Ronnie said. “Unless you’re going to tell them, how will anyone find out?”

“Don’t you want to see it?” Jake asked. “It sounds cool.”

Tom didn’t answer. Of course, he wanted to see it. But he also didn’t want to get into trouble, knowing his father would just give him extra chores. Still, he didn’t stop following, and so his legs answered for him.

Four days ago, Ronnie, whose father’s farm was closest to the woods, had told them all about his discovery – a large cave with a lot of cool rock formations inside it. Since then, the five of them had been planning to sneak away to see it for themselves and even explore more of it than Ronnie had been able to. The sneaking away part hadn’t been too difficult. All of them had come to Iris on the colony ships just four years ago. With so much to do in starting up a new colony, all their parents were far too busy to keep a proper eye on their teenage sons. The hard part had been finding a time when all five boys were free. With most of them less than six months away from their eighteenth birthdays, they had almost as many responsibilities as their parents.

However, they had all managed to finish up their chores for the day early. And so now, as one of Iris’ three suns began to set, they quickly made their way through the woods and out onto the rocky hills beyond. As they always did when leaving their homes, each boy carried his small laser rifle, ready for action – almost all of Iris’s native fauna tended to be hostile. Though in the last four years, most of the most dangerous animals had been killed or driven hundreds of miles away from the settlements. Nevertheless, the boys knew they weren’t supposed to be here. So they kept their eyes open.

“Here it is, up here,” Ronnie said after a few short minutes of scrambling up a steep slope. “Look how small the opening is. You’d never think there was a whole cave system in there.”

Moving up through the small entrance, Ronnie activated the light built into his rifle and then poked it inside to show the other boys how deep the cave went. “It opens up after ten meters or so,” he told them. “Come on, follow me.”

Tom found himself the last to enter. As he passed through the cave’s opening, a shiver ran down his spine. He chalked it up to the sudden cold air washing over him. Once they were in, the pace of the four boys slowed as they squeezed through the tight tunnel. It slowed even more as, one by one, they entered the large cavern. Each boy all but stopped to stare up at the roof of the cavern, with its massive stalactites reaching almost to the floor.

When they were all inside, they began to move their rifle lights around, pointing out one impressive feature after another. Eventually, they grew a little bolder and began to move deeper into the cavern. Then Jake spotted what looked like another tunnel leading off from the cavern. Ronnie rushed over to it and pointed his light down the passage.

“Yes – look, it’s big enough for us, and it clearly goes deeper.” Without waiting for the others to agree, he set off down the tunnel.

Again, Tom wanted to protest, but his legs carried him after his friends. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone. When he entered the next tunnel, he stopped. Its walls looked different. Reaching out, Tom felt the nearest one. It was smooth. Half-turning, he shone his light back into the large tunnel. None of its walls looked smooth. “Hey guys,” he said as he turned toward his friends, but they were already well ahead of him now. Quickly, Tom moved to catch up with them.

As he stepped out of the tunnel into the next cavern, Tom forgot about what he wanted to say. Like the rest of his friends, the sight that greeted him rendered him speechless. Once again, they were in a massive cavern, except this time it was larger, as were the stalagmites. The size of the stalagmites wasn’t what caught the eye, though – it was what was growing on all of them. Tom had never seen anything quite like it before, and so he didn’t have the words to describe it. The closest word he had was forest. It looked like he was staring at a forest. Except it was no ordinary forest. It was a forest of stalagmites covered in some kind of fluorescent moss that shimmered between bright reds, greens, and blues. Amidst the moss, other things sparkled – it looked like giant rubies and diamonds grew out of the moss at the tops of the trees where the stalagmites touched the cavern’s roof.

For at least a minute, the boys stared in silence. Then, the noses of their rifles began to move about again as they scanned all the beauty the cavern had to offer.

“We have to get back and tell someone about this,” Jake said. “No one will believe us.”

“If we tell someone, then they’ll know we were here,” Ronnie pointed out.

“Who cares about that now?” Jake countered. “No one will when we show them this.”

“What was that!” Tom suddenly gasped. A shadow at the back of the cavern had moved as his light passed over it. When he pivoted his light back to the spot, there was nothing there. Quickly, several other lights focused on the same area as his friends reacted to the fear in his voice.

“You’re seeing things, Tommy boy!” Jake chuckled.

The others started to laugh, but then a larger shadow moved. Everyone saw it this time. Before any of the boys could decide to turn and run, a creature shot up into the air and landed just fifteen meters in front of them. Ronnie let out a screech of terror while the others gasped. Tom said nothing – he was too terrified to even open his mouth.

All five boys found themselves frozen in place as the creature gathered itself up and stood on its back four legs. As it did, a hideously hairy, three-segmented body revealed itself to them. Eight appendages extended out – four from each its two rearmost segments. The third segment was clearly its head and at its end were four nasty-looking pincers, behind which a wet, slimy maw moved back and forth. Through six unblinking eyes, the creature looked at the boys. Then its pincers began to move. An ear-scratching noise rattled Tom’s brain.

Just as he was about to drop his rifle and cover his ears, the noise stopped. A moment later, the implant in Tom’s ear beeped to tell him it was trying to translate something. The beep shook Tom’s mind out of its terror. He had thought they had run into some new kind of wild animal – one that was about to eat them. But if his implant thought it had just heard a semblance of language, then that meant the thing in front of them was something else entirely.

Before Tom could fully process what that might mean, the creature took a step toward them, its head tilting to one side. Its appendages began to move again, and the horrible screeching noise returned. Jake instantly dropped his rifle and threw his hands to his ears. Tom was right behind him. Ronnie and the other two friends, however, screamed in fear as the creature took another step. Then they began to raise their rifles.

Too late, Tom realized what they were intending. “No!” he screamed, but his words couldn’t be heard over the alien’s screeches and his friends’ cries.

A moment later, three laser beams flashed across the cavern, slashing at the creature. To Tom’s amazement, all three beams bounced off its skin. However, the creature hissed and recoiled as if it had been hit. The smell of burnt flesh immediately filled Tom’s nostrils.

The next few seconds passed far too quickly for Tom to fully comprehend. With a cry that filled the cavern, the creature rose even higher. Then, two additional appendages suddenly appeared from its middle torso. Far longer than any of the others, they looked more like swords than arms. Just as the thought occurred to Tom, the creature charged. With a single leap, it landed amidst the five boys. Then its body began to spin, and its long appendages struck out – slicing off arms, cutting through torsos, and decapitating Tom’s friends.

Tom immediately started to scream as he ducked down and frantically felt for the rifle he had dropped. He grabbed it just as a sword appendage whooshed over his head. Quickly, he raised it and fired. Ronnie did the same. Both of their shots hit their mark, yet the laser beams bounced off the creature’s thick hide once again. Then the creature spun toward them. With two quick thrusts, the creature’s long limbs cut off both Tom’s and Ronnie’s screams, and their bodies fell to the ground.

For several seconds, the creature stood perfectly still as its eyes rotated, taking in the dead bodies. Then it lowered itself flat onto the ground and scuttled over the boys. Far more delicately than its appearance suggested, it began rummaging through their clothing with its smaller appendages. Anything it found, it lifted out intact and tucked away inside folds within its body. Finally, the creature gathered up all the boys’ rifles and picked up the most intact body. In a flash, it turned, leapt back into the air, and landed before racing across the cavern floor toward another tunnel that led deeper into the planet’s surface.

*

It took four hours for the first parents to realize they didn’t know where their son was. Within another hour, all five boys were confirmed missing. Guessing they were off on some adventure, the parents split up to check the most likely spots. As the final two of Iris’ three suns set, searchlights began to sweep across the fields and forests around the boys’ farms. Searches were even made in the woods they had been forbidden to enter and the rocky hills beyond, yet no one spotted the small entrance to the cavern.

By the next morning, air cars and shuttles filled the sky above Iris Colony, but no sign of the five boys could be found.

Unbeknownst to the colonists above, a tachyon signal shot out from beneath the planet’s surface. It was directed toward Antaria, a planet thousands of light years away. Its message was simple: An Antarian colony had been infested by a new hostile species.

The response would be swift, for all infestations were eradicated. No one infringed upon Antarian Collective space and lived to speak of it.

The end, and… the end of the Empire Rising Series.

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To the reader,

Let me start by saying, if you are reading this, then it means you have read through all twenty-two books and three point four million words of my Empire Rising series. The only thing I can say to you is—thank you!

It has been your purchases and reviews that have made this series possible. And I hope that means you have enjoyed the journey and the story I have spent the last ten years telling!

When I first wrote The Void War, it was just for fun – and because I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. I never expected what followed. And now, after five years part time and then five years full time, the series is complete. I never imagined it would turn into all that it has (though I did have the final battle of Empire’s Gambit in my head when I wrote The Void War).

So, thank you all so much for your support. You have allowed me to pursue what has become my dream job whilst supporting my wife and growing family.

From the beginning I wanted to tell the kind of story I have always loved reading – a story of honor, sacrifice, loyalty, and love, set against the background of large galactic empires with high stakes battles. I hope in part I have accomplished that and given you a story with heroes you can get behind.

Now the question is – what is next?

Well, let me tell you.

I have at least two more series I would like to write in the Empire Rising universe. The first will cover the First Antarian War and the Civil War mentioned in the ‘excerpts from Empire Rising & Empire Ascendant’ introductions to each chapter. Hopefully, I have teased them enough to whet your appetite for such a series. The second, will follow the naval historian who authored Empire Rising and Empire Ascendant and be set between the writing of both books and focus on the Galatar invasion that the excerpts also mention.

However, before I turn to either series, I want to take a couple of years and focus on something different. Ten years writing about James Somerville and his world has been a long time and I have several different series and characters I have come up with in that time that I’d love to write about. At the moment then, my plan is to write one of these series first, initially as a trilogy, and then see where things stand.

So, here is the blurb for my next military science fiction novel and below are the first five chapters to introduce you to the new series that will be coming out in September 2025. I hope you enjoy it as much as you have Empire Rising and I hope you will support the launch of the first books in the series when they come out.

By all accounts starting a new series on amazon is always risky and so early purchases and reviews as soon as the books come out will be a great help. Thank you in advance!

And let me say once again, thank you so much for your support that has made Empire Rising the success it has been.

D. J. Holmes

Secession Wars Book 1

(everything below is still a work in progress, so there may be some changes before release).

Blurb:

For three millennia, humanity has lived under the unyielding peace of the Human Republic. Born from the ashes of a devastating revolt, the Republic vowed to prevent the nuclear holocaust of another interstellar war at any cost. Its inner core worlds—thirteen powerful colonies—maintain an iron grip over the thousands of outlying planets humanity has settled.

But peace has come at a price.

Three thousand years of centralized rule, greed, and corruption have all but enslaved those who live outside the Republic’s inner core. For the citizens of these rim worlds, freedom is a distant dream—a relic buried in humanity’s past.

Yet what has been buried cannot be hidden forever.

For those who strive for these long lost ideals, they will soon discover what so many before them have learnt the hard way – freedom always comes at a cost.

For Second Lieutenant Caleb Hawthorne, the cost will be higher than he can imagine. When a secessionist movement violently arises, Caleb must choose between the navy he has dedicated his life to and his loyalty to family and homeworld. As the tyranny of his masters becomes clearer, there is only one choice. But can he learn the ways of war fast enough to make a difference? And can he throw off the ties that bind him to the Republic so easily?

Freedom, family, and love are powerful rallying cries, but can they inspire a people to accomplish what no one has done in three thousand years— to forge a nation of their own?

And here are the first six chapters:

Prologue

Orbital Construction Yard, Jegar, Alpha Centauri, 2235 AD (two thousand five hundred years before the events of Embers of Rebellion).

“General Manager, thank goodness I found you; I’ve been looking all over… ah, what are you doing?”

Timothy Williams cast one eye up towards his secretary and then looked back down at the boot he was sealing to his space suit. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Surely, you’re not going for a spacewalk?” John Davis asked.

“No, I’m just going out for a picnic,” Williams said as he straightened up. “So, what is it?”

“I have some reports you need to sign and some things the CEO wants me to run by you.”

“Well, suit up, and we can talk as we work.”

“As we work? But where are you going?”

Williams sighed. “You didn’t see the completed work report for today?” He pressed on, knowing Davis had. “There was a problem with fitting the first bands of thermite radiation armor. I want to go and see for myself before we decide what to do.”

“See for yourself? But you’ve got hundreds of engineers and workers who could do that for you,” Davis said, confused about what was happening.

“But none of them have my eyes, do they?” Williams pointed out. “I want to see it myself.”

“Ah, well, maybe I’ll just wait here until you get back then,” Davis decided.

Williams shook his head. “I have a dinner date with my wife in one hour. As soon as I’m done here, I’m taking a shuttle to the surface. We either talk now, or you wait until tomorrow.” He then chuckled at the look on Davis’ face. “Come on,” he said as he tossed his secretary a helmet. “You passed your EVA training. I know you did.”

“Yes, sir. But that was over ten years ago.”

“Well then, consider this a refresher course. Besides, don’t you want to see what we’ve spent all this time and effort building?”

“I... ah... I’ve seen all the detailed holo projections. I’m sure it’s just the same as seeing it in real life.”

“Not even close,” Williams said as he shook his head again. “Trust me. Now come on, or I’ll go out without you, and you can explain to the CEO why I haven’t responded to him.”

Davis looked down at the helmet in his hands, then back up at his boss. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“About what? The spacewalk or dumping you in it with the CEO?” Williams asked with a grin.

“Both. You’re serious about both,” Davis said miserably as he stepped into the spacesuit compartment and began looking for a suit that would fit him.

Williams moved towards his friend and helped him put on the suit – he really didn’t want to be late for his date. “Okay then,” he said after checking the seal of Davis’ helmet, then he slapped his friend on the back. “Let’s get out there and see what we’re working with.”

“Very well,” Davis said reluctantly. “I’ll follow you.”

Williams nodded, then he tapped the control to cycle the air out of the airlock they were in. As soon as all the air was vented, Williams led the way out. As he stepped out, his magnetic boots clamped onto Jegar’s hull. Williams took a couple of steps to make sure they were working, glanced back at Davis to make sure he was out, then he tapped a button on the forearm of his flight suit to close the airlock’s hatch behind him. Only then did he allow himself to look up.

As it always did, the sight that greeted him took his breath away. Jegar itself was impressive enough – though the shipyard was essentially just a large space scaffold. The real beauty came from what was taking shape within the construction yard. Half a kilometer long and shaped like a narrow arrowhead, the ship Williams was overseeing was majestic in his eyes. Though she was no warship, nor even a racing yacht, she was his – and that gave Williams a joy like no other.

She was also a hive of activity, for even though the final shift of the day had clocked off, hundreds of construction bots still zoomed around the large ship as they moved supplies and construction materials to where they would be needed for the next day.

Not for the first time, Williams found himself reminiscing as he took in everything he had built. Jegar had been finished just five years ago. Williams had been the senior engineer in charge of its construction. After that, he had been promoted to General Manager of the construction yard. For the past four years, he had overseen the construction of six freighters and two passenger ships. Together, they were the largest ships ever built in the Alpha Centauri system. However, they had all been built according to Earth schematics.

Now, something very different was close to being completed. The sleek ship that towered over him was an Alpha Centauri-designed and -built freighter. And she would leave Jegar in just three months – assuming he could work out the final kinks that were causing delays. When she was finished, she would be ten percent faster in FTL than the fastest Earth freighters – and still be able to match the cargo space of the current largest intersystem space haulers. Once she was finished, Williams and his superiors hoped Beagle would spark a rush of orders for more freighters from Alpha Centauri, the other colonies, and even Earth itself.

More than that, she was also a symbol of Alpha Centauri’s growing independence from Earth. Williams didn’t pay too much attention to colonial politics, but he knew enough to understand how important his work was. Beagle’s construction would allow his homeworld to trade freely with the other colonies and bypass Earth’s crushing tariffs. Though it was a small thing, it would be one more step towards throwing off the shackles the UN tried to keep on its fledgling colonies.

But we have to finish her first, Williams reminded himself. And you have to survive long enough to see her launched, he added as he remembered his date with his wife. His propensity to overwork had left her waiting for him far too many times in the past; he knew he dare not be late tonight. “Let’s get going,” he said to Davis as he used the HUD of his helmet to select the section of Beagle that he wanted to look at. Then he jumped off Jegar’s hull and engaged his spacesuit’s thrusters.

Behind him, Davis yelped, then called out, “I thought we were walking!”

“We are on a tight schedule,” Williams replied. “Just follow me.” Without waiting to see if Davis did follow, Williams focused on his landing spot. He didn’t want to clatter off Beagle’s hull and be flung out into space. It would be logged as an accident, and his superiors in the company would probably never let him do a spacewalk again.

Just as the HUD on his helmet told him to, Williams reoriented himself so that his feet were pointing towards Beagle. Then his flight suit’s boosters kicked in and arrested his momentum. With a gentle clank, his boots hit Beagle’s hull and then magnetized themselves. Williams looked up and smiled as he watched Davis float down beside him. “You see, it was no problem.” Williams’ smile widened when Davis turned towards him, and he saw just how white his friend’s face was. He slapped Davis on the back. “It’ll be something to tell the wife and kids about when you get home.”

“If you say so, sir,” Davis responded softly.

Stepping around Davis, Williams started to move towards the section of Beagle’s hull where the new armor was meant to be going on. He only made it two steps. A bright flash above him stopped him dead. It was far away and only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was unmistakable. “Did you see that—”

Another flash cut Williams off. This time it was closer. Williams easily made out the red and yellow fiery explosion of a thermonuclear blast in space. “We are under attack!” Williams called out. Before Davis could reply, or either of them could do anything more, a surge of explosions began to rush towards Alpha Centauri. They raced in towards a specific point in the planet’s orbitals.

Williams’ eyes swung around to locate the small orbital fort and two patrol frigates that protected the colony. The fort and ships were partially hidden by thousands of small flashes. Their point-defense guns were firing. Yet it seemed to be doing them no good. In just a couple of seconds, the wave of explosions raced right up to the defenders and then slammed into them. Tens of nuclear warheads detonated all around them.

Williams hadn’t built either the fort or the frigates, but he knew enough about them to know they would not survive such an attack. Anger rose up within Williams. Someone had just killed hundreds of his fellow countrymen. In a second, his anger turned to horror, for the explosions didn’t stop.

Hundreds of nuclear-tipped shells had been hurled at the fort. Many overshot their target. In dread, Williams watched as the waves of flashes overwhelmed the fort and ships but then carried on and smashed into Alpha Centauri itself. “No!” he screamed as nuclear detonations erupted in his homeworld’s upper atmosphere. Below one, he could see Alpha Landing, his homeworld’s capital city. It was where he lived. Where his wife and two of his children lived!

In the blink of an eye, the explosive force of the airburst smashed into the city, wrecking it beyond recognition. Then the last shells struck the planet’s surface itself. All across the continents and seas Williams could see, mushroom clouds began to burst their way up into the planet’s atmosphere while circular shockwaves shot from each detonation.

Tears streamed down Williams’ cheeks. Beside him, Davis cried out in anguish and anger. For nearly a minute, both men didn’t move as they watched the complete destruction of their homeworld. Then Williams’ hands tightened into fists. He forced himself to look away from the destruction of everything he loved. His eyes traced back the path of explosions that had rushed in to devastate his homeworld. Though they were small, he could just make out three twinkling shapes. He knew exactly who they were – Earth ships. The UN had come to demand Alpha Centauri bow to their will.

They couldn’t have meant to do that, a voice in the back of Williams’ mind said. It had to be some kind of horrible accident. Williams shook his head. He didn’t care. As he stared up at the approaching warships, he raised a fist up towards them. “I will destroy you. I will destroy you all!” he swore as a rage the likes of which he had never imagined consumed him.

*

Nine years later.

Retribution, Earth.

With ease, Retribution and her two sister ships swatted aside the small Earth ships that came out to meet them. After nine years of campaigning, there was almost nothing left of Earth’s once proud fleet to oppose the invaders. Then, seemingly ignoring the long-range fire hurled at her from Earth’s orbital forts, Retribution moved into a high orbit over Humanity’s homeworld.

“The time has finally come,” Admiral Williams said as the three battleships he had built came into range with their cannons. “Lieutenant Davis, take over the tactical console. Then open fire with all our weapons. Use the nuclear warheads.”

“Admiral, are you sure? We could hit Earth by accident,” Captain Gonzales—Retribution’s captain—asked.

Williams spared Gonzales the briefest of glances. Gonzales was from Capricorn. Like the other thirteen colonies, Capricorn had rallied together to resist Earth’s aggression and avenge Alpha Centauri, but he didn’t understand—not really. “I know what I’m doing, Captain.” Williams then gestured to his Chief of Staff. “Take over, Davis.”

“With pleasure, Admiral,” Davis responded as he stood and moved over to the tactical console, sitting in the second seat beside Retribution’s tactical officer. He then began to tap furiously as he input the firing solutions for the fleet of warships Williams commanded.

Around Retribution, her sister ships, and their fifteen smaller escort ships, nuclear explosions kept detonating. No one paid any attention to them, however. They were still so far from Earth that even small evasive maneuvers could throw off the aim of the ballistic weapons. It was an entirely different matter for Earth’s defenders, however. The positions of the twenty forts and six small ships in orbit around Humanity’s homeworld were fixed. They couldn’t run or dodge.

“Ready, Admiral,” Davis said as he looked up from the tactical console.

When their eyes met, a shared anger and determination flowed between them. It had been nine years since they had both watched helplessly as their homeworld and families were devastated. For nine years, they had built and fought their way here. Now was the moment of their revenge. “Do it,” Williams ordered with a nod.

With the touch of a button, Davis ordered the fleet to open fire. One hundred and thirty-four railguns flung their shells into space at ninety percent of their maximum velocity. Six minutes later, they fired another salvo at ninety-two percent of their maximum velocity. Four more volleys followed. All were timed to reach Earth’s orbit at the same time.

As soon as they were all launched, Retribution’s bridge grew quiet. Everyone knew what was about to happen. Williams had handpicked his officers himself. They had all suffered loss at Alpha Centauri or in the fighting at the other colonies. They might not all agree with what Williams intended, but they did not question him.

For forty-five minutes, Earth’s defenders continued in vain to try and hit Williams’ fleet with their long-range shells. Without the shrapnel shells he had personally developed, though, they stood no chance of hitting the colonial fleet at such ranges. Then, the wave of over eight hundred thermonuclear warhead shells struck Earth’s orbitals.

In the blink of an eye, the UN forts and ships were obliterated. As Williams intended though, it didn’t end there. Inevitably, the shells that overshot their targets began to strike Earth’s atmosphere. Williams’ fingernails bit so hard into his palms that they drew blood as he watched the destruction of his humanities’ homeworld. The rage that had first erupted within him nine years ago boiled as hot now as then. This is what you get, he thought towards the UN lackeys and those who had elected them. This is what you get for trying to control us. This is what you get for thinking you own us!

Immediately after the nuclear attack on Alpha Centauri that had killed two-thirds of the colony’s population and turned the world into a nuclear wasteland, the UN officials who ruled over Earth had issued an apology. Williams had not believed it for one second. For over a century, the UN had sought to control Humanity’s fourteen colonies with ever-increasing rules and legislation. They thought they had the God-given right to rule over whomever they chose. Well, now they know better, Williams whispered between clenched teeth. Now they know the colonies will not be ruled!

Despite the rage that ruled him, and the satisfaction that filled him at seeing his enemy destroyed, a single tear ran down Williams’ cheek. Partly, it was for all the innocents who he knew were dying—innocents that he had decided long ago needed to die to bring freedom to the colonies. Mostly, however, it was because of the memories that he couldn’t keep at bay. As mushroom clouds shot up into Earth’s atmosphere, Williams didn’t see Earth but his beloved Alpha Centauri and the death of his own family. You are avenged, he thought towards his wife and two sons. It is over.

“All enemy forts and ships are destroyed, Admiral,” Davis reported once the explosions stopped. “We detected one hundred and sixty-seven detonations in Earth’s atmosphere and on the surface... What do you want us to do now?”

“Now we head home,” Williams said as he hardened his voice. “And we build something new. Something that will put an end to the horrors of war once and for all.”

“What about Earth?” Gonzales asked, horror filling his voice. “There are billions of people still alive down there. They will need our help.”

“They are the ones who started this. Now they can live with the consequences of their actions,” Williams said harshly. He softened his tone all the same. “Earth is the past. The colonies are our future. Set course for Capricorn.”

For a second, Gonzales didn’t acknowledge Williams’ order. Williams’ eyes bored into him. Just as Williams was about to order him relieved of command, Gonzales relented. “Aye, Admiral,” he said stiffly. “Navigation, set course for Capricorn.”

Williams nodded. With an ease that came from nine years of hatred, he dismissed Earth from his mind. Capricorn was his future now. Alpha Centauri was no more, and though Williams knew Capricorn would never truly feel like home to him, it was all he had. His one daughter – who he had managed to rescue from Alpha Centauri before the radiation had gotten to her, now lived on Capricorn with her husband. She was already expecting their first child.

I will protect you, he thought towards his unborn grandchild. Once he got to Capricorn, Williams intended to forge the colonies into a new political reality that would ensure nothing like what had happened to his wife and sons would ever again happen to what was left of his family.

Peace at all costs, Williams swore to himself, even as his ship turned and left Earth and its inhabitants to the nuclear holocaust that would soon engulf the entire planet.

Chapter 1

Two thousand five hundred and three years after the devastation of Earth.

Starliner Atlas, Rigus system, 15th March 4747 AD.

Second Lieutenant Caleb Hawthorne sat on Atlas’ observation deck. Awestruck, reverent whispers filled the air. Hundreds of the cruise ship’s passengers had crowded into the deck. For many, the experience was almost religious.

They were all staring out through the many large, circular observation blisters that opened to the depths of space. This was why they were here. As Atlas passed the system’s seventh planet, both of Rigus’ twin pulsar suns moved behind its planetary ring. For just a few minutes, the throbbing beams of radiation thrown out by the stars shot through the planet’s elliptical ring.

Many of the asteroids were laden with dense, rare metal deposits. Those that were, deflected the beams in thousands of different directions—directions that changed second by second with the movements of the asteroids and the starliner. Atlas’ observation blisters tracked them all, translating the various radiation bands into the visible spectrum for the benefit of the starliner’s passengers.

The result was a kaleidoscope of colors. The combination of the pulsing radiation beams, the bright greens and yellows of the system’s seventh planet, and the dark, shadowy asteroids of the planetary ring put on a show for all who had booked passage on Atlas.

Caleb, however, was aware of none of it—not the sounds of appreciation from those around him, nor the view in front of him. His mind was elsewhere. For the first time in nine years, he was heading home. Yet he was not going of his own free will—he had been ordered there.

After six years of active service in the Republic Navy—and having just finished his first stint as a Second Lieutenant, Caleb was meant to be out seeing the Republic. That was the custom. Every officer was given six months' leave after serving two years as a Second Lieutenant. They were to use it to decide on their future: either commit to the decade-long journey of working a desk job in the Admiralty while waiting for a First Lieutenant spot to open up, before finally (and hopefully) getting a command of their own, or resign from the Navy with distinction and pursue another career.

But Caleb already knew what he wanted. The Navy was his life. It had given him everything. When he had left Newport, he had been a spoiled child. Now he knew who he was. There is nothing at home for me, Caleb told himself, not for the first time. The Navy was his future—even if he never rose to command a ship of his own. That was where his heart was.

Except he knew it wasn’t quite true. When he had all but fled Newport, he had been a boy—just sixteen. Now he was a man. And he had unfinished business with his father. The Navy had taught him honor, loyalty, and service. None of which he had given to his family or his father. He couldn’t make up for how he had left the first time. But he could do better the second time.

Or could he? That was the question that dominated Caleb’s thoughts. Every time his mind turned to his father; his hands tightened into fists. He then felt like the teenager who had run away rather than the man who had stood watch alone on the bridge of a Republic heavy cruiser. How could he make amends if he wasn’t truly the one at fault?

Shaking his head, Caleb stood. Coming to the observation blister had been a mistake. He could find no more peace here than in the cramped cabin where he had spent much of the last two weeks. As he turned to leave, he bumped right into a warrant officer who had just come rushing up behind him. Both men took a step back, raising their hands to fend off one another.

“My apologies,” Caleb said instinctively. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, no, sir, it was my mistake,” the officer replied. His eyes then widened as they met Caleb’s. “Lieutenant Hawthorne?”

The look of concern on the man’s face made Caleb tense. “Yes?”

“Oh, thank goodness I found you so quickly. Please, the Captain has asked for you to join her on the bridge.”

“The bridge?” Caleb couldn’t help repeating, his eyebrows rising. Since coming on board Atlas, he had been keeping to himself. He didn’t think anyone on the starliner knew he was a naval officer.

“Yes, there is a situation. The Captain wants to talk to you,” the officer said as he stepped back and gestured towards the hatch he had just come through. “Can you come with me now?”

“Of course,” Caleb said. The officer’s tone set him moving forward. “Just what is this situation?”

The officer looked up and down the corridor they had stepped into before speaking. “I was told not to tell you until we get to the bridge. Sorry, sir. But the Captain doesn’t want to start a panic.”

Caleb nodded. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. If they couldn’t talk about it, it had to be serious. And if the Captain wanted him, then that pointed in one direction. Pirates! Caleb thought as his heart began to beat a little faster. “How long have they been following us?”

The warrant officer’s eyes widened again. Then he looked around before whispering, “Nearly an hour now, but we just noticed them ten minutes ago and then backtracked their signal.”

Not good, Caleb thought. He kept his thoughts to himself, though, and simply nodded. “Well, hopefully, we still have time then,” he said, trying to sound confident.

When they got to the bridge less than a minute later, Caleb was surprised by how small it was. Atlas was almost as large as a battleship, yet the cruise ship’s bridge was less than a quarter the size of Hercules—the battleship Caleb had spent two years on as a Junior Lieutenant. As he stepped through the hatch, Caleb immediately felt the tension filling the small space. Everyone turned towards him.

“Lieutenant Hawthorne?” the woman sitting in the central command chair said as she stood.

“Yes, Captain, this is him,” the warrant officer who had stepped in behind Caleb said.

“Thank you for coming,” the Captain said as she came over and vigorously shook Caleb’s hand. “I am Captain Santiago. We could use some help.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Caleb said. “You think it’s pirates?”

Santiago let go of Caleb’s hand and gestured to the small holo display that filled the front of the bridge. “We’re not sure, Lieutenant. We detected an anomaly twelve minutes ago. Since then, we’ve picked it up twice more. It appears to be following us. I had my sensor officer check the logs, and we might have picked up two further anomalies going back over an hour.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he studied the display. “Can you put up all the anomalies with their timestamps?”

“Yes, sir,” a different officer said.

As more anomalies appeared, Caleb’s certainty grew. Each anomaly looked like a small burn from a maneuvering thruster. Connecting each dot produced a looping course that suggested a ship, which had been lying in stealth along the main route through the system between jump gates, had decided to slot itself in behind Atlas.

“What is the pirate situation in this region of space like?” Caleb asked as he turned back to Santiago.

“Almost non-existent,” Santiago said. “Atlas and I have made the run to Newport six times in the last three years, and we’ve never had any trouble in the outer core.”

“But there have been growing reports of missing ships,” another officer said.

Santiago nodded. “Yes. This is my First Officer, Jenkins,” she said as she waved to the man who had spoken.

“How many?” Caleb asked.

“Just three ships have been reported missing in the last year. But there was only one in the two years before that,” Jenkins said.

“Well, what do you think, Lieutenant?” Santiago asked.

“Could it be a military ship?” Jenkins asked before Caleb could answer. “Maybe they are practicing some maneuvers?”

Caleb shook his head as he met Jenkins’ eyes. “I’m afraid not. Military ships have as many, if not more, regulations than civilian cruise liners.”

“But maybe they—”

“How many regulations have you ever broken?” Caleb asked. He knew it was unfair, but he needed Atlas’ crew to grasp just how much trouble they were in.

Jenkins’ cheeks reddened. He unconsciously glanced at the Regulator who sat in one of the bridge’s rear corners. “None, of course.”

“And neither would an officer on a Republic warship,” Caleb responded. “Which leaves us with one option: they are pirates. No one else would be trying to sneak up on us.”

The bridge officers looked around at one another. Santiago cursed. “So, what do we do?” she asked.

Caleb turned back to the holo display and studied Atlas’ situation once again. There were no other ships showing up on the display anywhere near them. Worse, the system’s southwestern jump gate and the fort that defended it were still five hours away. They were on their own. “What is standard protocol?” he asked as he thought.

Santiago’s face went blank for a second as she used her neural implant. “We hail the pirates and tell them we surrender. Then we jettison our cargo and hope they leave us alone.”

Caleb nodded. “And how often do the pirates just let a ship and its crew get away?”

“Rarely, if ever.” This time it was Jenkins who answered.

“And in this case, your cargo is your passengers,” Caleb pointed out.

“You think they’re after hostages?” Santiago asked.

“Hostages, or else they want your ship. In which case, they won’t have much use for your passengers—or any of us.”

Santiago nodded slowly, taking in what Caleb was saying. Her face darkened as she realized what it meant. “Have you had any experiences with pirates before?” she asked, looking at Caleb with hope in her eyes.

“Twice,” Caleb replied. “Both were over two years ago, when I was Fourth Lieutenant on Argonaut. Once, we ran a pirate ship down. They didn’t surrender. The second time, we came across what was left of a Zumi-class freighter. It wasn’t pretty.”

Caleb could still remember the images of the slaughtered crew. Argonaut’s Captain had guessed the freighter’s crew had surrendered to the pirates. They’d been cut to pieces, and their cargo stolen anyway.

“But you’re a naval officer. You must know something we can try?” Jenkins asked, his voice quivering.

Caleb looked down from the holo display, then glanced around at the dread on the faces of the officers. Even the Regulator looked scared. Good, Caleb thought. I can use that.

Before making his next move, however, Caleb hesitated. Though his face didn’t show it, he felt the same fear as those around him. In his six years of active service, he had only seen action once. At the time, it had been thrilling. But in hindsight, Argonaut had easily blown the pirate ship out of the water. He’d never truly been in danger. Now he was. And not just from the pirates. In the Republic, breaking Senate regulations could be almost as deadly.

If I do nothing, we all die, he told himself. And isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? For years, he had dreamed about what a military ship could do without all the regulations they had to follow. Atlas was no warship, but Santiago was offering her to him to command.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb plunged in. If he was going to die anyway, he might as well take some risks. “Alright, I assume no one wants to just surrender and let them do what they want with us?”

Every officer looked to Santiago. She met Caleb’s eyes, then slowly turned to the Regulator. When he said nothing, Santiago looked back at Caleb and gave him a slight nod.

Caleb gave her the smallest of smiles. Then he turned to the Regulator. “Well, I feel the same. So, Regulator, do you accept my authority as a naval officer to bend some of the regulations, given our current predicament?”

Caleb held his breath. Deep down, he was sure he would bend the regulations anyway. Too many lives were at stake. But the Regulator’s response would decide whether, assuming they survived, he was going to be court-martialed or not.

The Regulator spoke slowly. “Given that, in this case, our cargo is our passengers, I think it might be appropriate for us to consider options other than surrendering. But I would point out that we do not yet know that this anomalous contact is a pirate ship. We may be acting too hastily.”

Caleb breathed out slowly, controlling himself. He wanted to roll his eyes. Of course the Regulator would protect himself. His reply meant that any inquiry would put the responsibility squarely on Santiago’s and Caleb’s shoulders.

Caleb hesitated again. His heart told him to ignore the Regulator and act immediately. But his head wouldn’t let him. Though he knew it was wasting some of the short time they had, he wasn’t ready to go against a Regulator just yet—even if it was something he had dreamed of doing ever since he was a youth. Now that he was actually in the situation, it turned out years of naval training were harder to throw off than he had thought.

“How about this, then,” he suggested, compromising with himself. “We can alter our heading slightly. Not enough to make it look like we’re trying to run, but enough to force them to follow. If they’re not pirates, they’ll just keep on their current heading, and we’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“Changing course is against the regulations. We will be late to our destination,” the Regulator said automatically.

“You just said it might be appropriate consider other options,” Caleb countered. “Surely confirming if we are indeed being hunted by pirates isn’t going too far beyond the regulations?”

The Regulator paused, and Caleb could feel every other officer on the bridge willing him to acquiesce. The Regulator sensed it too as his eyes left Caleb’s and scanned the room. When the Regulator looked back, his shoulders deflated. “Okay, you are the military officer. I will bow to your expertise. We can deviate from our path.”

“Excellent,” Caleb said with a mixture of nerves and excitement. He immediately spun toward the holo display that showed a map of the Rigus system. “Captain, with your permission, I suggest we turn to a heading of seven-four-five point three. It’s a small course change, one that will take us towards Piedmont Station near the jump gate. But it’s enough of a change that they would have to turn to keep following us.”

Santiago nodded. “That works for me, Lieutenant. Rodgers, turn us, please.”

“Yes, Captain,” the officer at the navigation console responded.

Everyone on the bridge waited in silence as Atlas’s large bulk slowly turned. It would take over a minute for their maneuver to be picked up by whoever was following them—assuming their sensors detected the course change immediately.

As the seconds ticked by, the tension around Caleb steadily grew. At the two-minute mark, it spiked. That was when Atlas’s passive sensors should have detected another anomalous reading if the ship behind them had altered course. Yet nothing was detected. Another minute came and went, and still, there were no new readings. At four minutes, Caleb felt some of the officers around him starting to relax. They’re starting to think we’ve overreacted.

Caleb wasn’t nearly so sure. In space warfare, especially when long distances were involved, things rarely worked out exactly how you thought they should. If there was a pirate ship behind them, its sensors could be old or faulty. And even if they had detected Atlas’s course change, the pirates might still be weighing up the situation.

Until now, Atlas had spent the last eight hours traversing the Rigus system as it traveled between its two jump gates. Even a small course change had to look suspicious. A wise captain wouldn’t act without thinking.

When ten minutes had come and gone, Santiago turned to Caleb and smiled. “Maybe we called you up here for nothing, Lieutenant. I’m sorry for getting you worried.”

Caleb held up a hand. “Let’s wait a little longer, Captain.” Confusion passed over Santiago’s face, then doubt. Caleb gave her a slow nod, and the doubt turned to concern.

“Okay, a little longer. But we can’t keep on this heading for too long. We’re already going to be late for our jump slot as it is.” Behind Santiago, the Regulator nodded in agreement.

Less than a minute later, Caleb’s suspicions were confirmed.

“I’m picking up another anomaly,” Atlas’s sensor officer called out. “It’s the same as before. Right here.” On the display, a small dot flashed. It was directly behind Atlas’s previous course.

“They have turned to follow us,” Caleb said solemnly. “It is a pirate ship.”

Groans and curses filled the bridge. Wide-eyed, Santiago spun back toward Caleb. “What do we do, Lieutenant?”

Caleb looked over her shoulder toward the Regulator. “How far am I allowed to go?” he asked.

The Regulator swallowed hard. His eyes darted back and forth between Caleb and the holo display. It was clear what he was thinking. He was dead if he did and dead if he didn’t. Crucially though, the pirates were just a few light minutes away whereas the Regulator Division was hundreds of light years. “Do whatever it takes,” he said.

“On your authority?” Caleb pressed.

“On my authority,” the Regulator said as he gave a resigned nod.

Despite his fear for his own life, and the nerves he felt with everyone looking to him, Caleb had to fight not to smile. All his adult life, he had been waiting for those words. Never had he expected them to come on the bridge of a civilian cruise ship, but he would take what he could get.

“Okay then,” he simply responded. “Let me think.”

Immediately, Caleb activated his neural implant. Every adult in the Republic had one. They came preloaded with everything a citizen needed to function within the Republic. Primarily, that meant they contained every regulation ever passed by the Republic Senate. However, Caleb had a military-grade implant, and he had been adding to his repository of information ever since he got it.

With a thought, he pulled up files on every pirate encounter his security clearance gave him access to. More importantly, he also accessed all the simulated battles he and his friends from the naval academy had ever run that involved being chased by a superior enemy. Quickly, he scanned through them all, reminding himself of the various tactics they had come up with.

Finally, he accessed the official naval regulations for such a situation—just in case they had something useful to say. As he expected, they were next to useless.

“Can someone send me a full breakdown of Atlas’s capabilities?” Caleb asked next. A moment later, his implant pinged to let him know he had received the file. He grimaced as he read it. The cruise liner didn’t have a single weapon—not even defense lasers to take out an incoming missile or torpedo. Fighting is not an option, then. We have to run and hide.

Turning slightly, Caleb looked up to the holo display. One by one, he dismissed the various ideas he had flagged as possibilities. In a matter of seconds, one remained. His eyes narrowed as he studied the map of the Rigus system. Yes, it might work. It was a tactic Alexander had tried on Caleb once. He would have to adapt the idea, but it could work.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Caleb said as he turned back to Santiago. “We don’t know what that ship is armed with, but we have to assume they have at least one rail gun. That means they could open fire on us from almost any range. We’re already in their kill box. However, it took them nine minutes to detect our last course change. I’m sure they’re watching us more closely now, but still—we can use that. So, here’s what I’m thinking….”

When he was done explaining, Santiago glanced at the Regulator who simply shrugged, then she turned back to Caleb and nodded. “If you think it is our best chance, then we have to try it.”

“I do,” Caleb responded. “But we have to be quick.”

“Then let’s get to work,” Santiago said. She began giving orders to her officers, while Caleb moved over to join Jenkins and help him with the modifications they needed.

Forty-five minutes later, they were ready. In that time, the anomaly had closed a quarter of the distance between itself and Atlas.

“Launching the shuttle now,” Jenkins announced. From one of Atlas’s hangars, the largest shuttle the cruise ship had took off on autopilot. It dropped back a little from Atlas, then took up station directly behind her.

“We’ll turn on your say-so,” Santiago said to Caleb.

Caleb nodded and then waited. Currently, the system’s eighth planet was shielding the pirate ship from the waves of Rigus’ twin pulsars. “As soon as they come out from behind the gas giant,” he said, raising a finger. Four minutes later, he dropped his hand. “Now!” he commanded the moment radiation from the pulsar stars began to wash over the pirate ship again.

Chapter 2

In response to Caleb’s command, every non-essential system on Atlas was switched off. Her engines dropped to one-sixth thrust while her maneuvering thrusters began a very gentle burn, slowly turning the cruise ship’s nose onto a new course. At the same time, the shuttle’s engines went to maximum power, releasing streams of electromagnetic energy that mimicked Atlas’s systems.

Caleb held his breath. He was taking a massive gamble, but it was the best option he had. Atlas had never been designed to go into stealth like a warship. Yet he was betting the pirate ship’s sensors weren’t military-grade either. And they won’t have military-level training, he hoped. A military officer would be expected to run constant analyses on any ship they were tracking, specifically looking out for changes in a target’s electromagnetic profile. As far as the pirates were concerned, they were sneaking up on an unsuspecting civilian ship. They won’t see us, Caleb told himself as he felt his leg tremble. They won’t!

Afraid that his leg would betray him and cause him to start shaking, Caleb looked around for an empty seat. The only free one on the bridge was beside the Regulator. Without meeting the Republic agent’s gaze, Caleb moved over and sat beside him. Then he watched in silence with the rest of Atlas’s officers as the minutes ticked by and the tension mounted.

The first two minutes were the worst, as that was how long it would take for the pirates to pick up the first emissions from the shuttle and react. Nothing happened. Caleb allowed himself to relax a little. However, Atlas was far from safe. The course he had put her onto meant that with every passing minute, the risk of being detected and destroyed increased.

Half an hour passed, and the pirate ship didn’t change course. Then Atlas’s comms officer made everyone jump. “I’m picking up a tight-beam laser transmission. It’s from the pirate ship.”

Caleb sat up in his chair, every muscle in his body tensed. “Is it directed at us?” Santiago’s voice cracked as she spoke.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure. We’re near the edge of the beam… wait, the computer is analyzing it now. It looks like the beam is aimed at the shuttle.”

Santiago puffed out her cheeks and leaned her head back in relief. “Let’s hear what they’re saying,” she said.

“Cruise liner, this is the armed freighter Rosonta. We are directly behind you. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. You are under our guns. Cut your engines now, or we will open fire. Repeat, cut your engines, or we will destroy you.”

“A tight beam targeting sensor just flashed the area around the shuttle. It came from where we estimate the pirate ship to be,” Jenkins reported.

“They’re letting us know they’re really there,” Caleb said. Thankfully, the sensor emissions hadn’t passed over Atlas.

“They should be receiving our automated reply about now,” another officer said.

Caleb and Santiago shared a look. They had uploaded several possible replies to what they thought the pirates might say to the shuttle. Right now, the pirates would be getting visuals of a very worried-looking Santiago saying she couldn’t cut her engines because it was against regulations.

“Energy spike!” Jenkins shouted. “They just fired a rail gun shell.”

“Show me the sensor readings,” Caleb requested. A moment later, one of the small screens on his chair lit up. “It looks like a four-inch gun,” he guessed. Quickly, he did the mental calculation with the aid of his implant. “The round will reach the shuttle in about four minutes.”

Everyone’s eyes locked onto the main holo display, watching to see what would happen. As Caleb had programmed it, as soon as the shuttle detected the energy spike, it altered course in a desperate attempt to save itself. It was all but in vain, however. Four minutes of flight time was a very short engagement range. Though the shell fired by the rail gun was flying ballistically, when it detonated, its three-hundred-pound warhead could cover a large cone of space with deadly shards of tungsten shrapnel. At the relativistic speeds involved, the shrapnel would tear through Atlas or the shuttle’s hull with ease.

When the round was fifteen seconds out from the shuttle, Caleb leaned forward in his command chair. If the pirates simply wanted to destroy Atlas, the shell would explode at any moment. Yet it didn’t. Instead, it flew right to where the shuttle had been, releasing a very small explosion.

“What was that?” Santiago asked.

“A warning shot,” Caleb said.

Sure enough, another transmission was picked up by Atlas’ comm sensors moments later. “The pirates are demanding that we cut our engines, or they will fire on us for real this time,” Atlas’s comms officer updated everyone.

“Now the shuttle will send the next prearranged message,” Caleb said. This one had Santiago agreeing to cut the cruise ship’s engines. Within a minute, the shuttle disappeared from the holo display as its main engines shut down. “And now we wait,” Caleb added.

“How long do you think it will take them to figure it out?” Jenkins asked.

Caleb shrugged. “I don’t really know. But hopefully, long enough for us to get well away from them.”

Jenkins nodded, though he looked far from confident. Caleb felt the same, but he knew everyone was stealing glances at him, so he did his best to keep his face straight.

Without its engines active, it was hard for Atlas’s passive sensors to detect the shuttle. Caleb hoped it was the same for the pirate ship. Ten more minutes passed as the pirate ship chased after the shuttle. Then the tension on the bridge spiked again as Atlas entered the most dangerous phase of Caleb’s plan. He was gambling that all of the pirate ship’s passives were focused on the shuttle and not the area around them. Caleb’s body tensed as Atlas came as close as she was going to get to the pirate ship. Nothing happened. Silently, Atlas continued unmolested.

“We did it!” Santiago said just a minute later. “We slipped by them!”

Her words broke a spell on the bridge. Officers began smiling, cheering, and sharing looks with one another. Caleb returned the smiles sent his way, but he didn’t allow himself to relax. He suspected they weren’t out of the woods just yet.

It took just half an hour for Caleb’s fears to be realized. A warning alarm silenced the bridge. Every eye turned to Atlas’s sensor officer. Her fingers flew over her console. “The pirate ship just activated its active sensors. They flashed the shuttle.”

“The returns from their passives showed an anomaly,” Caleb said as officers began to turn to him. “They are confirming their suspicions.”

Another alarm beeped a second later. “They have fired again!” Jenkins shouted.

On the display, the shuttle suddenly reappeared as it brought its engines back online. Immediately, it tried to veer away from its original heading. With the pirate shell having a flight time of just one minute, it had no chance. Twenty seconds before the shell reached the shuttle, it exploded, releasing an ever-expanding wave of tungsten slivers that spread out in a cone pattern toward the shuttle. Though the shuttle was small, the cone of slivers was still very dense when it struck. The shuttle disintegrated under the assault. However, in the fractions of a second it took to be ripped apart, the shuttle detected the attack. At once, Caleb’s final instructions were followed. In a flash, the shuttle’s reactor overloaded, and a massive explosion marked the shuttle’s death.

Santiago spun toward Caleb. “Do you think it worked?” she asked desperately.

Caleb was already shaking his head. If the pirates had initially fired a real shot at the shuttle instead of a warning one, and the shuttle had detonated then, they might have believed the detonation was really from Atlas. But now, they were far too close, and they had already gotten an active targeting scan.

Before Caleb could explain his answer, more alarms filled the bridge. The pirate ship had powered up its active sensors again. This time, they were operating on a wide angle. Space all around the ship began to fill with electromagnetic energy. They knew they had been tricked. They wanted Atlas.

“What do we do?” Santiago demanded.

Caleb took a slow, steady breath. “Nothing,” he said as he exhaled. “Either they will find us, or they won’t.”

“The pirate ship is moving,” someone called out.

Caleb tensed. The pirate ship wasn’t willing to let them get away easily. By opening fire, it had alerted the other ships in the system to its presence. Already, the holo display showed over twenty other vessels traversing the system pulling up and away from the area. They were all likely as unarmed as Atlas, and so they were giving the pirate ship a very wide berth. No doubt, news of the pirate ship would quickly be spreading throughout the rest of the system.

Though no Republic warship was currently stationed in the Rigus system—there was nothing other than a handful of asteroid mining outposts to protect—a warship would soon be on its way. If the pirates wanted to capture anything, Atlas was now their only option. Either they would find her, or they would have to flee empty-handed.

“They’re searching for us,” Jenkins rightly guessed.

“And hopefully, we’re in about the last place they would think to look for us,” Caleb responded.

“That’s why you had us pass so close to them when we went dark,” Santiago realized as she looked at Caleb with respect.

Caleb nodded. “That, and we need somewhere to hide. Otherwise, they will find us eventually.”

On the holo display, Atlas was currently heading toward the system’s seventh planet. It was the best place for Atlas to try and avoid detection. The way the radiation from the system’s twin pulsar stars bounced around within the planet’s ring provided the perfect cover. They just had to get there in time.

As the pirate ship gave up all pretense of hiding and began to maneuver with the full force of its engines, Atlas got a far better look at it. Details began to scroll down the main display beside the dot that represented it. Caleb saw that it had an acceleration rate nearly half as much again as Atlas. Energy readings from its reactor also suggested it had a powerful core for its size. Someone has gone to a lot of expense to kit it out.

Though he took in the information, Caleb focused on the search pattern the pirates were beginning. The pirates would have a good guess as to how fast Atlas could go without being detected. They would also be able to roughly estimate when they had been tricked. That meant there was only so far Atlas could have run. Given the momentum Atlas had before going dark, there were several directions she could have gone to open up the most distance from the pirate ship. As the pirate ship completed its first turn, it settled onto a heading toward one of those possibilities.

Caleb let out his first sigh of relief since stepping onto Atlas’s bridge. “They think we’re trying to run into open space,” he said with a smile. “They don’t suspect.”

“Are we safe, then?” Jenkins asked, sounding more hopeful than before.

Caleb nodded to the system’s seventh planet. “If we can reach the planetary ring before they realize we didn’t run for the outer system. Then yes.” He paused, thinking. “Assume they’ll check each direction we could have run to get as far away from them as possible. How long before they turn back and check their rear?”

Jenkins used his console to work out the calculation. “Fifty minutes at least… we should just be reaching the planetary ring fifteen minutes after that. They won’t get close enough to detect us.”

Smiles and words of appreciation came at Caleb from all around the bridge. This time, he accepted them with more warmth. He even smiled himself. I did it. I outsmarted them!

They were going to make it to the planetary ring in safety. Then, all they had to do was stay put and hide until the pirates gave up and left, or a warship entered the system and chased them off. If the pirates were smart, they would flee long before that became a possibility.

Sitting back in the flight seat, Caleb allowed himself to relax. His mind wandered to his friends from the Academy and Professor Montgomery.

In secret, encouraged by Montgomery during their second year, he and a few other cadets had begun running simulated battles without following the regulations. Montgomery had hinted at the possibility without outright telling them to. Half his lectures had included brief excursions pondering how this or that battle might have played out if the regulations hadn’t been followed—always accompanied by a clear statement that such thinking was, of course, foolish.

Wait until I tell Alexander about this! Caleb thought, unable to hide the pride he felt in himself. He would have to include a detailed account in the next chess move he sent to his friend. Since graduating and being sent to different ships, they had kept up with each other while playing numerous games, sending moves back and forth across the vast expanse of the Republic. Alexander was currently sitting on a fifty-eight percent win rate, but Caleb was sure his victory would put an end to any boasting Alexander might be tempted to do for months—maybe years, Caleb decided, given how rare it was for any military officer to actually see action.

A glance to his side brought Caleb’s high spirits crashing down. He had forgotten about the Regulator. The officer representing the Republic Senate looked like he didn’t know whether to be happy or outraged. He’s going to live, but now he’s going to have to answer for breaking regulations. He’ll try to blame this on Santiago and me, Caleb was sure. He could see it in the Regulator’s face. They’re all the same.

A shiver of worry shot up Caleb’s spine. How much trouble could I get in? He wasn’t sure. His name would be included in the official report that would be sent to the Regulator’s office and the Senate. Could it hurt my chances of being promoted to First Lieutenant after my six-month leave? Could it end my career?

Surely, they’ll have to take into account that we saved thousands of people, Caleb reasoned. Yet he wasn’t so sure the Regulators would see it that way. He wasn’t even certain the senior Admirals of the Republic Navy would either. They were as bound to the regulations as any other citizen of the Republic.

“Ah… I think we have a problem,” Jenkins called out. His tone silenced Caleb’s other worries and ended the jovial talk on the bridge.

Caleb saw it as soon as he looked up at the holo display. The pirate ship had just finished checking the second possible direction Atlas could have gone. Yet instead of turning toward the third, it was turning back more toward where Atlas actually was.

“They’ve figured out what we did,” Caleb groaned.

No one spoke for several seconds as they absorbed Caleb’s words. Most of the bridge officers looked to him. Caleb began to fill with guilt. He had given them hope. He had even believed he’d done it. But he had failed.

The sudden pressure from those around him clouded his mind. What can I say to them? There was no stopping the pirate ship from detecting them now. When it did, they could open fire at whatever range they wanted. We’re done for, a small voice whispered in the back of Caleb’s mind. There’s no hiding now.

Chapter 3

Santiago turned in her command chair toward Caleb. Though he sensed her movement, Caleb didn’t turn his head to her. He was frozen. He had no more ideas. Everything he had tried had failed.

“Right,” Santiago said after a couple of seconds, breaking the silence that Jenkins’ report had thrust upon the bridge. She sounded far too calm. Clearly her tone was forced. Nevertheless, she tried to take control of the situation. “Project their course forward. When will they detect us?”

“In about twenty minutes, Captain,” Jenkins answered.

“We won’t have reached the planetary ring by then,” Santiago responded. She turned to Caleb again. “What about another shuttle, Lieutenant? We could send it out on a ballistic course, then fire up its engines to lure them away from us. We only need to buy a little time to get to the planetary ring.”

As bridge officers turned to Caleb in hope, he didn’t want to answer. Santiago’s question, however, forced his mind to start working. It only took a second to analyze her idea. He shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. They are much closer to us now. Their active sensors would quickly identify the shuttle as a shuttle. They could backtrack its course and figure out roughly where we launched it from. They would end up finding us sooner.”

“So what then? Are we just going to sit here and hope?” Santiago asked, her voice rising. “We can’t give up.”

Caleb agreed. But what was he supposed to say? They couldn’t fight the pirate ship. Now they couldn’t hide from it. And they’ve shown we can’t outrun them, Caleb complained to himself. Or can we…? he wondered as one last desperate thought came to him.

“Show me the exact makeup of the planetary ring,” he requested. A moment later, someone sent the file to his implant. Caleb’s eyes closed as he quickly scanned it for the information he needed.

“What is it?” Santiago demanded.

“There is one last thing we can try,” Caleb said as he focused on Santiago. “We go to full acceleration right now. The pirates will immediately detect us. But we’ll just make it to the planetary ring before them. The ring’s asteroids are large and dense enough for us to hide behind. If we can stay hidden long enough, they’ll eventually have to give up.”

“Can we hide that long? Won’t they follow us in and just chase us down?”

“Maybe, but I have an idea for that,” Caleb responded. “And we might not have to hide for too long. Already, every ship in the system will be aware of the pirates’ active sensors and their course changes. It’s impossible for them to hide what they are. We passed a Republic frigate in the Andras system. It will be dispatched here as soon as word reaches them. We just have to hold out that long.”

“And if we’re going to go active with our engines, we can send a distress signal too,” Santiago said. “Okay, let’s do it. Rodgers, I want full acceleration, now!”

“Yes, Captain,” Atlas’s navigation officer responded.

“You’re going to have to vary your course, pilot,” Caleb warned. “Like a military ship does. Here…” Caleb quickly accessed a file from his implant and sent it to Rodgers, overriding his implant’s protest that he was breaking Republic regulations. “Like this.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Rodgers said, actually sounding excited.

A moment later, Atlas powered her reactors and engines to full. As soon as she did, she began to release copious amounts of electromagnetic energy into space. It took just two minutes for the radiation to reach the pirate ship. The ship responded at once. Its nose swung around toward Atlas’s position, and its targeting sensors locked onto the cruise ship.

“They’re going to fire on us, aren’t they?” Santiago asked.

“Yes, as soon as they figure out what we’re trying.”

“They’re turning again,” Jenkins called out just twenty seconds later. “They’re laying in a direct course for the planetary ring.”

“Time for a course change, Rodgers. They’ve probably already fired their first shot,” Caleb ordered. It would take two minutes for the energy pulse from the pirate’s rail gun to reach Atlas, so Caleb couldn’t be sure, but in their shoes, he would open fire at once. Disabled, Atlas would be far easier to catch.

“Changing course,” Rodgers replied without hesitation.

“A standard four-inch gun has a firing rate of one shell every five minutes,” Caleb said. “I doubt the pirates have military-grade reactors and capacitors, though. Assume they will be firing every five and a half minutes. Adjust your evasive maneuvers accordingly.”

“I can do that, Lieutenant,” Rodgers said.

Just five seconds later than Caleb had estimated, an alarm went off on Atlas’s bridge. “Energy spike consistent with a rail gun firing,” Jenkins shouted.

Though rail guns could fire their shells at different velocities, it usually made sense to fire at full power to reduce the time to target. “Assuming their weapon is fully functional, we’ll detect the first detonation in another two minutes,” Caleb estimated.

Another alarm announced the detonation of the shell almost to the second. A small energy spike appeared on the holo display behind Atlas a moment later.

“It’s a miss,” Caleb called out confidently. Each fragmentation shell could be preprogrammed to detonate and release its tungsten slivers in different patterns. However, even the widest effective pattern wouldn’t allow the shell to hit Atlas.

“Good flying, Mr. Rodgers. Keep it up,” Caleb said, commending Rodgers the same way he would a junior officer on a Republic warship.

For the next twenty minutes, Atlas continued to zig-zag her way toward the seventh planet’s ring. Four more shells detonated behind her, but the combination of the distance involved and the pirates’ inaccurate fire meant Atlas avoided being hit.

Then Atlas swung her nose around to face the pirate ship and began to decelerate hard. Caleb felt his nerves rising again. This was the most dangerous point. The pirate ship would now be closing rapidly with them. They would get two more shots before they, too, would have to begin decelerating if they didn’t want to overshoot and enter the seventh planet’s gravity well.

The next shell’s detonation showed that the pirates had misjudged Atlas’s maneuver, for it detonated almost adjacent to the ship. Its tungsten slivers didn’t have enough time to spread out before they overshot the cruise ship.

One more, Caleb said to himself as he gripped his command chair. If Republic Navy gunners had been controlling the pirates’ gun, Atlas would have been blown up long ago. But they can’t be complete fools, he feared.

Five minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, another energy spike appeared on the display. “That’s almost right behind us!” Jenkins called out frantically.

“Prepare to be hit!” Caleb said automatically. Everyone around him gripped their command chairs tightly—there was nothing else they could do. The rest of Atlas’s crew and passengers had already been sent to their cabins. The cruise ship had no reinforced bulkheads or emergency inertial dampeners to activate.

The only thing that saved the cruise ship was the pirates’ lack of experience. Even though they had closed the distance substantially, their gunners hadn’t adjusted their shells. As a result, the shell’s detonation released its shrapnel in its widest possible formation. An ever-widening cone of tungsten slivers shot out toward Atlas. By the time they reached the ship, only two connected. One tore through her nose, almost ripping it off. The second penetrated deep into her innards before blasting out through the cruise ship’s port side.

Caleb felt both impacts as the shockwaves sent powerful tremors rippling through the ship. He was flung about in his chair. Without military-grade harnesses, he smacked his head, shoulders, and arms against his chair. At the same time, the impacts caused momentary g-force spikes that darkened his vision. It all happened so fast that Caleb didn’t even have time to realize he might be about to die.

Then Atlas’s inertial dampeners reasserted themselves. Caleb’s eyes snapped open. The bridge lights were flashing, and smoke rose from several consoles that had overloaded. But the bridge still appeared to be intact. A moment later, pain from his neck and head confirmed to Caleb that he was still alive.

“Captain! You need to get whatever damage teams you have to the most damaged sections,” Caleb called out as he waved toward Santiago. She was looking around, wide-eyed and clearly stunned.

“Captain!” he shouted again. Santiago finally looked at him.

“There will be damaged decks and sections open to space,” Caleb continued. “If we’re going to hide in the planetary ring, we need to stop venting atmosphere and debris.”

“Right,” Santiago said, nodding slowly. “Right,” she repeated, more forcefully. Then she turned to her officers and began shouting fresh orders.

“Rodgers, how are your controls?” Caleb asked as he turned to the navigation officer.

“Main engines are still operating, Lieutenant,” Rodgers responded quickly. “They and our reactors must still be intact. Maneuvering thrusters are another matter. It feels like I’ve lost most of the nose thrusters and some on our port side.”

“Can you still get us into the planetary ring?”

“I think so,” Rodgers replied. “I won’t know until we try.”

“Well, we have no other option, so take us in as soon as you can,” Caleb said.

Gradually, the bridge quieted as alarms were shut off and the officers realized they didn’t have to shout at one another. Damage reports started coming in. Caleb did his best to ignore them. It was inevitable that passenger cabins had been destroyed. Hundreds, if not thousands, were likely already dead. But there were still many more he needed to focus on saving.

“Entering the planetary ring now,” Rodgers called out.

Caleb’s body tensed as Rodgers put Atlas under the most stress she was going to face. Thankfully, she held together. Within seconds, Rodgers swung Atlas around a large asteroid, shielding the ship from the next shell the pirates had probably fired. Then he began to carefully work the large ship deeper into the ring of asteroids.

“That’s good,” Caleb said. “Not too fast. We just need to get in out of their line of sight.” He then turned to Jenkins. “Launch the shuttle now. Set the timer for ten minutes.”

“Launching,” Jenkins responded.

Atlas’s second-largest shuttle took off from the cruise liner’s main hangar and flew away moments later. It moved away from Atlas and slowly made its way back toward where the cruise liner had entered the planetary ring. For the next ten minutes, Caleb and the bridge officers enjoyed a brief respite. The pirates fired two more shells at them, but the shrapnel from the shells slammed harmlessly into the outer asteroids.

Then the shuttle’s fusion reactor overloaded. It detonated right beside a particularly large asteroid, shattering a third of it. Massive chunks of rock filled the outer edge of the ring where Atlas had entered, blocking any attempt the pirate ship might have made to follow the cruise ship.

“What do we do now?” Jenkins asked.

“Now we wait,” Caleb replied.

The words had barely left his mouth when a flurry of alarms suddenly sounded.

“There’s just been a massive detonation on the edge of the planetary ring,” a sensor officer called out. “It was thermonuclear!”

“A torpedo,” Caleb said in horror. The large, stealth-capable weapons were very expensive. And thermonuclear warheads were completely banned by the regulations. But the pirates had clearly found a way to get one!

On the display, Caleb watched in horror as the explosive energy slammed into several large asteroids. They were all thrown out of their orbits, colliding with their neighbors. Small chunks of rock broke off and were flung in all directions. Larger chunks moved on to crash into still other asteroids.

“They’re trying to start a cascade of collisions to force us out!”

“What should we do?” Santiago asked, fear filling her voice.

There was only one option.

“We go deeper!” Caleb ordered. “As quickly as you can, Rodgers.”

“Do it,” Santiago said when Rodgers looked from Caleb to her.

Several nervous minutes followed as Rodgers did his best, using what was left of Atlas’s maneuvering thrusters to go deeper into the planetary ring. At first, the expanding wave of asteroid collisions closed with them, but then it began to slow as the kinetic energy from the nuclear explosion thinned out, passed on to more and more asteroids.

“I think you can slow now, pilot,” Caleb said when he was sure they were going to be safe.

“Do you think they have any more of those torpedoes?” Jenkins asked.

“I don’t know,” Caleb answered honestly. “But however they got them, I doubt they came cheap. They may not want to waste any more on us if they don’t think they’ll work to flush us out.”

Minutes dragged on slowly as everyone waited to see if there would be any more explosions. None came. Instead, the pirates tried something else. Suddenly, massive amounts of electromagnetic radiation began bouncing around within the planetary ring.

“Active sensor emissions,” Jenkins shouted. “Tons of them. That’s far more than they put out before.”

“And coming from several different directions,” Caleb noticed. “They’ve launched probes into the ring. They’re trying to scare us out.”

“You don’t think they can detect us?” Santiago asked.

“It would be very hard. I think they want us to think they have, to cause us to panic.”

“Then we stay on our current course,” Santiago decided. “Keep moving us toward the center of the ring,” she said to Rodgers.

“Yes, Captain.”

For half an hour, the pirates filled the ring of asteroids with active sensor emissions. Not once did Atlas detect any sign that the pirate ship had entered the planetary ring, however. Then, after half an hour, they stopped.

“Active sensors are very fragile,” Caleb explained. “They need a lot of maintenance. And the parts aren’t cheap. It’s risky running them for so long.”

“Do you think they’ve given up?” Jenkins asked.

Caleb shifted in his command chair to turn to Atlas’s senior officer. “Hardly likely. Unless they fear a military ship is closer than the Andras system, they’re probably hiding in stealth, waiting to see what we do.”

“And what then do you recommend we do?” Santiago asked.

“At this point, I’m not in any big rush to get to Newport,” Caleb replied. “I’d say we get comfortable here and wait it out. Eventually, a military ship will come to investigate. I have no desire to risk leaving the planetary ring until it does.”

Santiago nodded, but instead of agreeing outright, she turned to the Regulator. “What do you think? With all the damage we’ve suffered, we’re never going to make it to Newport now anyway.”

The Regulator sighed. “There’s going to be a massive inquiry as it is. We may as well wait until help arrives.”

Santiago unstrapped herself from her restraints. “Then we stay here. Lieutenant Hawthorne, do you mind taking the bridge? I want to go and see some of the most damaged sections for myself. Then I’ll need to speak to the passengers and fully explain what’s going on.”

“Do what you need to do, Captain. I’m happy to help as you think best,” Caleb replied.

Santiago nodded, then paused before leaving the bridge. “Thank you, Lieutenant. We all owe you big time.” Other heads around the bridge nodded in agreement.

Caleb met Santiago’s eyes for a moment, then looked down in embarrassment. “Thank you,” he mumbled. He pretended to pull something up on one of his command chair’s screens and began scanning it until the rest of Atlas’s officers turned away. In both his teenage years and his time in the Navy, he wasn’t used to praise. He didn’t know how to handle it.

*

The next twenty-four hours were uneventful for Caleb. After standing watch for five hours, Santiago ordered Jenkins to relieve him. Then, she asked him to retire to his quarters and get some sleep. Though she assigned him a full nine hours to rest, he barely got four. His mind was still running at a hundred miles an hour as he relived every second of their escape.

After waking, Santiago asked him to assist with some of the damage repairs. No one on Atlas’s repair teams had been trained to deal with battle damage. Though Caleb’s experience was entirely theoretical—he had never been on a ship damaged in battle before—he at least had some training.

It was while he was working with the cruise ship’s chief engineer on a damaged bulkhead that Caleb was suddenly called back to Atlas’s bridge.

“We’ve detected emissions from a ship’s engines,” Santiago told him as he rushed onto the bridge. “It’s heading away from us.”

“The pirate ship?” Caleb asked as he moved to sit in the same command chair he had before. He avoided meeting the Regulator’s eyes.

Santiago nodded. “It seems so.”

“They’re running,” Caleb said after studying the holo display. “Into open space.”

“Neither jump gate is going to let them through,” Jenkins said. “We sent the best scans we have of them to both gates. Their information will be halfway across the Republic by now.”

“I’m sure it is,” Caleb agreed. “The pirate ship will have nowhere to hide.”

Though there was no colony within the system, both jump gates had built-in Graviton Pulse Relays. The relays could send pulses of data faster than the speed of light to other nearby relays. Each relay had a range of ten light years, but the Republic was covered in them, so news would quickly spread to all the Republic’s two and a half thousand colonies.

“Can we come out of the planetary ring now?” Jenkins asked.

“I think we’ll wait until we see this military ship Lieutenant Hawthorne is so sure has chased our friends away,” Santiago said.

Caleb smiled at her. She was learning.

It took another two hours, but eventually, Atlas’s passive sensors detected another ship approaching the planetary ring. Without any sensor drones on board, they had no choice but to edge the cruise ship’s damaged nose out of the asteroids and activate her partially repaired active sensors. Just seconds after they did, they detected a Republic frigate. Cheers filled the bridge. Caleb found himself joining in. They had made it! They were safe.

Just wait until Alexander hears about this! Caleb thought as he calmed down. His friend was going to be beyond jealous. Caleb had probably just seen more combat than either of them were likely to in the rest of their entire careers. I can live off this for decades, Caleb told himself with a smile. Who cares now who has the better chess win percentage?

A moment later, Caleb’s enthusiasm disappeared. He had completely forgotten about the Regulators! If there weren’t any senior Regulators on the military ship that was closing with them, there would be some on their way from Ravel or Huigar.

Jenkins had been wrong earlier. News of the pirate ship might not have even left the system. They’ve probably already clamped down on everything to do with the pirate ship, Caleb realized. The Regulators would never let news of a ship breaking regulations spread across the Republic.

No one is ever going to know, Caleb thought in dismay. They’ll probably swear me to secrecy too. Alexander will never know.

Another thought made Caleb groan. They’re going to want to go over every second of the battle with a fine-tooth comb. Tens of times! It could take weeks! And it could mean the end of my career!

For the first time in his life, as Caleb looked at a holo image of a Republic warship closing with him, he felt fear. Whatever level of inquiry the Regulator Division of the Senate wanted to carry out would likely take months. But the beginning of the end of his career could very well be marked by the arrival of the Republic frigate he had been waiting and hoping for.

Chapter 4

Newport, 5th April 4747 AD, (three weeks later).

Three weeks to the day after the run-in with the pirate ship, Caleb sat in a shuttle as it took him and sixty other passengers down to his homeworld’s capital. For a full week, the Regulators who had come with the Republic frigate—and the many more who had come after—had kept interviewing Caleb, Santiago, Jenkins, and Atlas’ Regulator. Caleb had kept his account short and to the point. So too were his answers to their questions. It had gotten to the point where Caleb had given the same answers over and over again that they had started to fill his dreams.

Eventually, the Regulators allowed him to transfer to a new passenger ship and be on his way. However, they had made it very clear he would have to appear in person for the official inquest that would be held on Beowulf in approximately three months’ time. Also, though they hadn’t come right out and said it, it had been strongly implied that Caleb’s career hung in the balance.

For the remainder of his journey to Newport, Caleb had been fretting over the outcome of the inquest. He hadn’t quite come to regret getting involved in the first place—after all, he would likely be dead if he hadn’t. But he did have a growing sense of animosity towards the system that was threatening to take his dreams away from him.

Despite his worries, however, as his shuttle passed through Newport’s surprisingly crowded orbitals, Caleb’s brooding took a different form. Nine years was a long time to have been away from family. Of course, he had exchanged the occasional letter with his two younger siblings—and he and his father had shared a few brief, formal words over the years. But that had been it. Caleb had stormed off, and now he was returning. In some ways, he was the prodigal son, except he still couldn’t decide whether he had been in the wrong or not.

As the shuttle passed through Newport’s atmosphere and entered the thick clouds that usually covered most of the planet, Caleb’s nerves spiked. He was finally home. For a few brief moments, he got a good look at Newport Landing as the shuttle burst out of the clouds. Like the orbitals above, it looked larger than he remembered, and there were many sky cranes dotted throughout the city, marking out where new construction was underway.

Things are going better than the news outlets have said, Caleb thought with a frown. In the Navy, he hadn’t paid too much attention to political events over the years, but he had read more than one official report that said many of the rim colonies were complaining about their conditions. Clearly, Father is doing all right for himself at least. For perhaps the first time in his life, Caleb actually felt a sliver of respect for his father. But at what cost has it all come? the more cynical side of Caleb asked himself as he thought of his siblings—how much has he ignored them?

Before he could continue with his brooding, the shuttle touched down with a gentle bump. The shuttle’s passengers burst into life as they moved to retrieve their luggage and disembark. Caleb waited patiently until most had left before he got up. Then he grabbed his small backpack and moved to the shuttle’s main access ramp.

A breeze of cold, frigid air greeted Caleb as he stepped onto the ramp. He stopped and closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. The cold air running through his nostrils was the smell of home. Newport was almost a glacial world. About a quarter of the planet was covered in ice. Yet the equatorial continents were still warm enough to live and grow food on. It was still often cold, though, even in the summer months.

Opening his eyes, Caleb looked up and over Newport Landing to the large snow-capped mountains that were the city’s backdrop. The Eredas, or the Blue Mountains, were always covered in ice and snow, and their peaks sparkled blue and yellow as they reflected the light rays that made it through the thick clouds in the upper atmosphere. Even more than the city before him, the mountains felt like home. Only then did Caleb realize just how much he had missed his homeworld over the last nine years.

When someone cleared their throat behind Caleb, he shook himself. The moment was over. “Sorry,” he said as he half-turned to the passenger he was blocking. Then he started down the ramp. He barely made it three steps before he stopped again. A stunningly beautiful woman was standing at the bottom of the ramp, staring right at him. With only a very limited experience of women, Caleb suddenly found himself not knowing what to do. He met her eyes, then looked away, then looked back to see her still staring.

Only then did he realize there was something familiar about her. Does she know me? Caleb frowned; he hadn’t told anyone he was coming. He had wanted it to be a surprise. His frown made the woman’s face darken.

Quickly, Caleb tried to put a name to the face. With long, curly red hair, blue eyes that sparkled, high cheekbones and a strong jawline, and the faintest of brown skin, the woman looked quite different from the girl he remembered, but he quickly realized who she was. When he did, a flood of memories came back to him—memories he wasn’t exactly proud of. Especially given how well the young woman in front of him had matured. Fighting back a sigh, he put his best smile on and advanced towards what was going to be an icy encounter. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Rebecca, it’s a pleasure to see you here. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Your father sent me,” Rebecca Guzman replied without taking the hand Caleb extended towards her. “You are to follow me.”

“Right,” Caleb said as he left his hand hanging for another second, hoping she might reconsider. Instead, she spun around and began to walk away.

“So, you are still working for my father?” he asked as he caught up with her. “When did you start, right out of school?”

“I am one of his personal aides,” Rebecca replied without turning to look at Caleb. “I returned to work for him after graduating from Brunel University on York.”

“Brunel… on York,” Caleb repeated without thinking, his surprise unmistakable.

Rebecca turned and stopped. “Yes. Brunel on York. What is the problem?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You don’t think someone below you is worthy of getting an education on an Inner Core colony?” Without waiting for a reply, she spun around again and began to march off.

Caleb had to break into a jog to catch her. Though his experience with women was limited, he knew enough to know he needed to do something. He decided honesty was the best approach he had. Instead of just catching up to Rebecca, he moved ahead of her, turned, and held out his arms.

“Listen, I owe you an apology. I’ve had to do a lot of growing up over the last nine years. I was a brat before I left. I treated you badly. You didn’t deserve it, and so I’m sorry.”

Rebecca came to a stop as he had begun to speak, but when he finished, she simply stared at him. He thought maybe the anger on her face lessened just a little. She then raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Well, eh,” Caleb started to say, not knowing where to go next.

Rebecca came to his aid. “You were telling me about just how much of a jerk you were to me. I had just lost both my parents, and all you could do was play pranks on me and call me names.”

“Yes,” Caleb agreed with a nod as more memories came back. “You did nothing to me. I was mean—worse than mean—I was hard on you. I know I can’t take it back. And probably I can’t make up for it. But I am truly sorry.”

Rebecca lifted her hand as if to wave away Caleb’s words. It didn’t seem like she believed him. Still, his last sentence made her hesitate. “To be honest, I think I was insecure and more than a little jealous of you.”

Rebecca’s hand stopped mid-gesture. “Jealous?” she asked, her expression changing—not in a good way. “Are you mocking me now?”

“No. No,” Caleb replied quickly as his two hands came up again. “Growing up, Father spent almost all of his waking hours away from our family doing his job. I hardly ever saw him. Then, when he started his Second Chance Foundation, it seemed like he spent as much time with you and the others from the Foundation as he did with us. Then he brought you into our family circle. I couldn’t take it. I was jealous. That was why I hated you.”

“So you did hate me?” Rebecca asked sharply, though her tone softened more than her words suggested. “It wasn’t all just in my head?”

“Yes, I suppose I did,” Caleb replied as he admitted to himself just how badly he had acted. “I haven’t thought about it for a long time. But I guess I did. And you did nothing to deserve it. I am sorry.”

“Do you have any idea how you made me feel? As corny as the Foundation was named, I was getting a second chance. I had lost everything, and you seemed intent to do anything you could to ruin it for me. I never understood why.”

“I don’t know how I can make it up to you. But at least I can be honest with you. I was jealous, and it wasn’t your fault, and I feel awful. I am sorry.”

“Hmmph,” Rebecca said as she tapped one of her feet, still gazing at him. Though Caleb didn’t know her well at all, he could tell she was thinking hard. “I don’t know if I believe you, and I certainly don’t trust you. But your father sent me to pick you up. So I will at least take your apology at face value and be civil. That is as much as I can promise.”

Caleb allowed a wide grin to spread across his face as he stepped aside and motioned that Rebecca could continue leading him. “That is more than enough for me. More than I deserve. You are very gracious.”

Rebecca shot him a suspicious glance. “Are you mocking me again?”

“Not at all,” Caleb said, putting as much feeling into his words as he could. “I will do whatever you deem necessary for me to make up for my behavior. I’m just happy you will give me the chance.”

“Hmmph,” Rebecca repeated as she walked past him.

“So,” Caleb began as he fell in step beside her. “Can I ask? How did you know I would be on that shuttle? In fact, how did you know I would be home at all?”

“You may not have been keeping tabs on me, but I have on you,” Rebecca answered, again without turning to look at him. “I told your father you would likely be returning home in the next couple of months, and so when your passenger liner entered the system, I was alerted to your presence. When I told your father, he asked me to bring you to him. He is entertaining some important guests he wants you to meet.”

Caleb groaned. “I’ve only been planet side five minutes, and he wants to draw me into some political deal he is making?”

“I think in this case, even you might make an exception. I do remember a poster of Captain Aubrey you used to have in your bedroom. You did see Ajax in orbit, didn’t you?” Rebecca asked. This time, she turned to him with a small smile on her lips.

Though his cheeks reddened, his excitement got the better of him. “Ajax is in orbit? And Captain Aubrey, he’s with my father? But why?”

Rebecca brought a hand up and tapped her nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Tell you what, you answer a question of mine, and I will answer yours.” Caleb nodded vigorously. He hadn’t seen Ajax in orbit. He hadn’t even thought to look. Rarely was a Republic warship ever stationed at a Rim colony.

“You were supposed to arrive on the cruise liner Atlas, yet you arrived on Cleopatra. Why the change?”

Caleb faltered. He had been sworn to secrecy. Yet he didn’t want to lie to Rebecca right after apologizing to her. He had no choice, though. “I just fancied a change of scenery,” he said. “So I got off at Odessa, did a little sightseeing, and boarded Cleopatra.”

Rebecca stopped again. She looked right into Caleb’s face. He felt his cheeks redden slightly. “You have too many tells when you lie. You need to work on that. At least you are humble, I suppose.” Without explaining further, Rebecca turned and started to walk again.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Caleb asked as he tried to keep up with her while they walked across the spaceport’s empty landing pads.

“I know about Atlas and the pirates. And the week you spent with the Regulators,” Rebecca said as she shot Caleb a sideways glance to get his reaction.

She wasn’t disappointed. Caleb’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “How do you know about that?” he demanded in a whisper, even as he looked around to see if anyone was within earshot.

“I have my sources,” Rebecca said coyly. “So, are they going to arrest you? It can’t be too bad if they let you continue on here.”

“There is going to be an official inquest held on Beowulf in about three months,” Caleb whispered. “I have to be there to give a witness statement and be cross-examined. I won’t know until that is over.”

“Three months,” Rebecca said thoughtfully. “That is good timing.”

This time Caleb couldn’t help himself from getting cross. “Good timing? You realize my naval career hangs in the balance. There is nothing good about it.”

Rebecca smiled at him, and Caleb’s anger vanished. She then reached out and put a hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I can guess how much the Navy means to you.” Her tone lightened. “Don’t worry so much though. I’m sure it will work out in the end... Ah, here we are,” she said as she came to a stop beside a parked aircar.

Caleb frowned. “What about customs?”

“I have already pre-cleared you,” Rebecca said as she walked around the aircar to the pilot’s door.

“You’re flying?” Caleb found himself asking. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Is that a problem?” Rebecca asked as she turned to him sharply.

“No, no, not at all,” Caleb said as he raised his hands apologetically. “I just thought my father would have a pilot for his aircar.”

“This is mine,” Rebecca replied deadpan.

Caleb tried and failed to keep the surprise off his face. The aircar looked very fancy even to his untrained eye. It had to be worth at least six months of his salary, especially as it probably had to be shipped in from a Core colony. His father was clearly paying Rebecca well. Seeing the look she was already giving him, he kept that thought to himself.

“Yes,” Rebecca said reading his mind. “I can afford something like this. What’s the matter, you’re not used to seeing a woman with wealth?”

Caleb shook his head vigorously. “That’s not it at all. I’m just pleased for you. You are clearly doing well for yourself.”

Rebecca gave him a look that suggested she knew he was lying again, but she let it go. “Get in,” she said as she gestured to the door opposite him.

As he strapped himself in, Caleb looked around at the aircar’s interior, even more impressed.

“Hawthorne Alloy Foundry,” Rebecca said to the aircar.

“We’re not going to the Governor’s residence?” Caleb asked as the aircar’s engines started up and its autopilot lifted off into the air.

“Your father’s not quite ready for you yet, so I thought you might like to see one of your father’s new projects. It is right up your alley.”

Caleb pressed his lips together. He had no interest in his father’s business dealings. Rebecca laughed at the look on his face. “You haven’t changed as much as you might think, hero-boy. Your father might not go around saving passenger ships from pirates, but he does important work.”

“He is trying to draw me in, I know it. Showing me this foundry, having me meet whatever officials he is meeting with. I know what he is like.”

“I’m not so sure you do,” Rebecca said as the aircar began to streak over Newport Landing. “But trust me, you’ll enjoy this.”

Caleb doubted it, but he decided he had put his foot in it enough with Rebecca so far, so he kept quiet for the rest of the short journey to the foundry. Instead he looked down at the many spires that made up the heart of the city. Beautiful, Caleb had to admit to himself.

Whilst he hadn’t seen too many other cities during his naval career, he had seen enough. Most cities in the Inner Core and Core were massive sprawling monstrosities with far too many people crammed into them. Usually no thought was given to aesthetics. Newport Landing was different. With plenty of space on Newport, the city was laid out in a pleasing grid pattern that spanned either side of a wide winding river. Beyond the city were massive green fields and forests. It actually looked like a nice place to live.

As the aircar approached the large factory, which had several tall smokestacks, Caleb’s eyes widened. The building was large and impressive. It looked far more advanced than anything else built in and around Newport Landing. “How did he get the license to build this? This looks like something that should be on a Core world.”

“Your father can be persuasive when he wants to be,” Rebecca said.

“What is manufactured here?”

Rebecca winked at him as the aircar landed. “You’ll see.”

Without waiting for him, Rebecca jumped out of the aircar and strode across the landing pad towards two large metallic doors that retracted for her as she approached. Caleb moved quickly to catch up. Inside, he was confronted with four security guards who were all armed with plasma rifles. They recognized Rebecca right away and nodded to her. “Ms. Guzman,” one said respectfully.

“He’s with me,” Rebecca said as she waved at Caleb. The guards stepped out of his way.

After a quick elevator ride up to a viewing gallery, Rebecca gestured down over the open factory floor below them. “So, what do you think?”

Caleb’s breath was taken away. Stretched out as far as he could see in front of him were hundreds of large, slightly curved metallic objects. Swarms of robotic and Human workers moved around each as they affixed different panels or other equipment to the large structures. It only took Caleb a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. He spun towards Rebecca in surprise. “Those are spaceship hull sections. And cosmic radiation armor plating panels.”

Rebecca smiled and nodded. “I said you would be impressed.”

“But how?”

“Your father managed to talk Senator Decimus into giving us a license to finish Nova and Tazan freighters. So we have to produce the outer hull and armor sections ourselves,” Rebecca explained. “Almost everything else is shipped in from Core worlds of course. But we build a little ourselves.”

“Wait, you mean we are putting them together, in orbit? There is actually a shipyard up there?” Caleb asked.

“It must have been on the other side of the planet when you came in,” Rebecca said. “It’s not much to look at, but it gets the job done.” She then turned and started walking along the gantry towards a large hatch. “Come on, there is more,” she called out.”

Caleb shook his head as he walked. Senate Regulations stated that only Inner Core worlds could construct spaceships. How had his father convinced their Sector’s Senator to allow such a thing?

“Do you recognize these?” Rebecca asked after they passed through the hatch and Caleb found himself looking down onto another long factory floor.

“No,” Caleb said. “They can’t be.”

“Well, a ship does need reactors,” Rebecca said with a smirk.

“But how do we have the technicians or the engineers to do this?”

“I’m not the only one your father sent off to faraway universities,” Rebecca explained. “Now they have all been able to come home to jobs worthy of their training. Now come on, there is one more department you will want to see.”

Caleb was almost in shock. Rim worlds, even trade hubs as important as Newport, were supposed to be agricultural worlds. Manufacturing was supposed to be done on the Inner Core worlds, and maybe in the Outer Core on occasion. What he was seeing was completely against regulations. Except, Rebecca had said Senator Decimus had permitted it. But that didn’t make sense.

As they passed through another large hatch, Caleb immediately recognized what was being produced in the next section of the factory. His eyes shot to Rebecca’s. “There is no way. How did he get a license for these? Why does he even need them?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I have no idea how he got the license. But I can assure you, they are needed. Piracy in the Rim and Outer Rim is up at least three hundred percent over the last five years. Our freighters are a part of Senator Decimus’ answer to the problem. All of them are armed with one four- or six-inch rail gun. They are meant to be a deterrent, of course. But they work just as well as any Republic Navy gun.”

Caleb looked back down at the long line of massive rail guns. The nearest were still being worked on, but it looked like many near the back of the factory were finished. “How many freighters are you producing a month?” he asked, certain there were far too many rail guns than necessary.

“We have permits to finish one of each class per month,” Rebecca answered. “Though it never hurts to be ahead of the production schedule.”

Caleb’s eyebrows furrowed. The way she had said it, there was almost a smile on her lips. And below him, there were at least fifty rail guns. How many months would that put them ahead—twenty-four? Surely it made no financial sense to have two years’ worth of production just sitting around.

Something more was going on; Caleb was certain of it. But what use could his father have for extra guns? Who was going to buy them? The Navy had contracts with all its gun suppliers that were centuries old. They would never buy from a Rim world—it would break a hundred regulations.

Caleb could think of only one other answer. Pirates! But he wouldn’t, would he? Caleb shook his head. He couldn’t see his father selling weapons to pirates. But what if he thought it was the best thing to do for Newport? Caleb’s question made him freeze. His father had always put Newport first. Protecting the colony and its people was his life’s mission. If things are as bad on the Rim as the news reports keep saying, then my father would need the money.

And it would explain all the construction in the city. And how Rebecca knows about the pirate attack on Atlas! Caleb thought. His father would want to keep a close eye on any nearby pirate attacks in case they were traced back to him. Caleb shook his head again. He didn’t want to believe it. No, he wouldn’t really do that… would he? Caleb suddenly felt ashamed. The truth was, he didn’t know his father well enough to know for sure.

As he looked up from the rail guns to Rebecca and the smug look on her face, Caleb immediately knew he couldn’t ask her about it. She would be insulted. She was clearly as devoted to his father as she had been when he had stormed off to the Navy. Instead, he smoothed his features as best he could and simply nodded. “It is impressive, very impressive,” he said, even as he promised himself he would get to the bottom of what was going on.

If his father was involved with pirates, he didn’t know what he was going to do. No, he corrected himself. I am a Lieutenant in the Republic Navy. I will do my duty.

Chapter 5

“There is one more surprise,” Rebecca said before Caleb could ask anything more about the rail guns. She pointed to a large glass workspace that hung over the gun foundry. “There’s someone who I’m sure wants to meet you.”

Caleb wasn’t sure he could take any more surprises. In fact, a large part of him wished Rebecca had never taken him to see the foundry. He already had too many worries. He nodded, nonetheless. “Okay, lead on,” he said, trying to hide his shock. The rail guns below him had to be the largest collection of military weapons outside the Inner Core.

As they walked, Caleb’s mind began to race. He couldn’t make sense of what he had just seen. If his father was involved in something illegal, why would he get Rebecca to show his naval officer son what was going on? They had to know he would find so many military-grade weapons suspicious. Just what is he caught up in? Caleb wondered, remembering the meeting Rebecca had mentioned—his father’s meeting with Governors and other officials Caleb was supposed to join.

“Caleb! Is that you?” a strangely familiar voice called out just moments after Rebecca led him into the glass offices.

Caleb turned toward the voice. At once, he forgot all about the freighters and rail guns. He was looking right at his mother. The woman—who couldn’t possibly be real—ran up to him and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“It is you! You’re home!”

Caleb closed his eyes, savoring the hug. For a few brief seconds, he was pulled back into his childhood. His mother had died in childbirth when he was seven, yet he still remembered her hugs. Most of his memories of her included hugs. The rest came from holo recordings and pictures.

After several seconds, Caleb gently eased the woman back. He knew it wasn’t really his mother. As he looked down into the woman’s eyes, he saw that they were green, not brown.

“Amelia, it is you, isn’t it?”

Amelia smiled up at him. “Of course it is. Who else did you think it was—oh!” she exclaimed when she saw the haunted look on Caleb’s face. She took a half-step back and began speaking quickly. “I’m so sorry. I look like mum. People are always telling me I do. I didn’t think… You haven’t seen me for so long.”

Caleb did his best to get a hold of his feelings, focusing on the joy of seeing his sister. “Stop,” he said, letting a genuine smile spread across his face. “You just caught me off guard.” He cast a less-than-happy glance at Rebecca. “I didn’t know you would be here… Come here, give me another hug. It’s so good to see you!”

Amelia looked relieved, then very willingly threw herself back into Caleb’s arms.

“You’ve grown up so much,” Caleb said as he held her.

“As have you,” Amelia replied when she eventually let Caleb go. She made a point of looking him up and down. “You’re taller than Father now. But you have his way of standing—and looking at people. You’re already thinking about something, aren’t you?”

Caleb wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared to his father, but questions were already forming in his mind. “I was just wondering—what are you doing here?”

“I work here, of course!” Amelia said. “Didn’t Rebecca tell you?”

“Truth be told, she didn’t tell me very much,” Caleb responded.

Rebecca shrugged when Amelia turned to her and raised her eyebrows. “I just wanted to surprise him.”

Amelia looked back and forth between Rebecca and Caleb, her eyes narrowing. “Now listen to me, both of you. You’re not starting your old rivalry. It was childish then, and it would be even more so now.”

Caleb was surprised. Amelia was three years younger than he was. He hadn’t realized she had even noticed.

“There’s nothing going on,” Rebecca said. “Your brother has already apologized, and I accepted.”

“You did?” Amelia said, smiling at Caleb.

Caleb nodded. “I did. I treated Rebecca very unfairly before I left, and I owed her an apology. I hope we can leave it in the past.” Even as he said it, though, Caleb glanced at Rebecca. For his part, that was what he wanted, but he was beginning to doubt her sincerity. She had to know just how much Amelia looked like his mother.

Amelia’s smile widened as she put an arm around Rebecca and another around Caleb, pulling them close. “That’s great. Now, let me tell you about my rail guns.”

“My rail guns?” Caleb asked.

“Who do you think heads up the R&D team that designed them?” Amelia answered.

Caleb tried—and failed—to hide his shock. Amelia turned to Rebecca. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“He didn’t seem to believe I studied at Brunel, so I didn’t think he would accept that you went to Nottingham.”

“You went to Nottingham—on Beowulf?” Caleb spluttered. “Why didn’t you tell me? All you said was that you were at university!”

“You didn’t ask,” Amelia said as she looked up at him. “If you’d shown more interest, I would have gladly told you.”

Caleb was filled with guilt. “I owe you an apology too, don’t I? I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in my own career.”

“There’s no need for any apologies,” Amelia said. “I could have told you. And I could have asked you a lot more questions about your time in the Navy and gotten more of a conversation going. Let’s leave it all in the past. You’re here now—let’s focus on that.”

“On that note,” Rebecca said as she fished a comm unit out of her pocket, “your father has just buzzed me. He’ll be ready for you in ten minutes. We’d better get going.”

Amelia looked disappointed, but Caleb didn’t see any of the anger he felt reflected on her face. “It’s okay,” she said when she looked up at him. “I’m sure it’s important. You can come back later or tomorrow for a proper tour. I’d appreciate your input. I’m sure you’ve got lots of thoughts on how to operate a rail gun.”

Caleb wanted to argue with Rebecca and even Amelia. He had come home to see his family, not to play a part in whatever political games his father was involved in. Yet, from the reverent tone they both used for his father, he sensed arguing wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“I’m not sure Navy regulations would let me share much with you, sis, but I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”

“Perfect,” Amelia said with a smile. “And you’ll be joining us for dinner later, of course. I’ll send a message to Ms. Robinson to get your room ready. It’s basically just as you left it.”

“Ah… I was thinking I would find a room in a hotel,” Caleb said.

Amelia frowned and shook her head. “Nonsense. Why would you do that?” Her face then hardened. “I’ll not take no for an answer. Father, Zach, and I will want to spend as much time with you as we can. We don’t want you wasting time running back and forth to a hotel.”

“Alright, alright,” Caleb said, holding up his hands. He wasn’t so sure his father would share Amelia’s feelings, but he acquiesced, nonetheless. “I’ll be there for dinner.”

“And you’ll stay in your room?”

“And I’ll stay in my room,” Caleb confirmed.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Rebecca said. “Now, we’d better get going. You two can talk shop later.”

“One more thing,” Amelia said, turning and giving Rebecca a level stare. “Keep him out of trouble. You know more about what Father is up to than any of us. Look out for him, can you? For me?”

Rebecca glanced at Caleb, then sighed as her eyes flicked back to Amelia. “Okay, for you.”

“Excellent,” Amelia said as she pushed Caleb and Rebecca together so that their shoulders bumped. “Now, get going before you’re late.”

*

After another short aircar flight, the Governor’s residence came into view. It was made entirely of marble and covered in ornate carvings depicting all sorts of important historical figures and symbols. Both the back and front of the residence were dominated by fourteen large pillars that supported two massive arches. Though it was almost as old as the Newport colony itself, it looked immaculate. It had to, for the Governor was the official representative of the Beowulf Sector’s Senator. Caleb knew that funds came in monthly, directly from Beowulf, for the residence’s upkeep.

As soon as Caleb saw the residence, his nerves returned. After having weeks of travel to think about his return home, he still didn’t know how to feel. Yes, he owed Rebecca and Amelia apologies, but did he owe his father anything? Was he not the one owed an apology?

Be a man, Caleb said to himself as the aircar landed. If he found he had something to apologize for, he would, and he would try to make amends—even if his father didn’t reciprocate. That way, when I leave to rejoin the Navy, I can do so with a clear conscience.

And I need to find out just what’s going on with all the extra rail guns, he reminded himself.

“Ready?” Rebecca asked after they both stepped out of the aircar. She gave Caleb a comforting smile. “I know we have our differences, but I’m sure this can’t be easy for you. If you need me, just say.”

“It’s not easy,” Caleb confirmed. “Thank you.”

Rebecca nodded. “And take it slow. Your father’s meeting with other Governors and leaders. He’s in working mode. If you plan to have it out with him, now is not the time.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened at being told what to do. It was good advice, though, so he nodded. “Thanks.”

“Well then, let’s go and show your face around,” Rebecca said in a tone that sounded too much like Caleb’s father for his liking.

They entered the residence through a side entrance, though there was still a security guard they had to pass. Before they got any further, an aide appeared.

“Ms. Guzman, the Governor is in the Blue Room,” he said.

“Thank you, Adrian,” Rebecca said in a friendly tone.

“And Lieutenant Hawthorne, it is a pleasure to see you home,” the aide said.

Caleb smiled and nodded at the aide. He didn’t remember the man working in the residence when he was growing up, but he wasn’t sure, so he said nothing in case he put his foot in it.

“This way,” Rebecca said.

“I know the way,” Caleb said as he stepped up beside her and took the lead. He didn’t want to be led around like a guest on his first visit back to his childhood home.

As he walked, many familiar sights and sounds greeted him. Though they were in the ‘official’ part of the residence, where the Governor was supposed to conduct all his business, Caleb had spent much of his youth running free throughout the entire residence. Statues and paintings filled the corridors. Unconsciously, he took a route he often had as a child. It led him past the one official portrait his father had commissioned of his mother.

Caleb was taken aback when he saw it. A host of memories flooded him. Some were of his mother’s smile or laugh, but most were of standing in front of the painting and wishing she were with him. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t trust himself to stop, so he tried to pretend he hadn’t seen it. Inside though, he promised himself he would come back when he was alone.

Rebecca was the one who stopped. When she saw the painting, she paused in front of it. Her hand came up to her mouth. Then she glanced at Caleb, her features softening. She looked back at the painting for a couple of seconds before continuing after Caleb.

By the time she caught up, he was already approaching the Blue Room. Two aides stood at the large, dark, brown-stained oak doors. They gave Caleb and Rebecca a half bow as they approached, and one of the doors was opened.

“We’ll go to your father first,” Rebecca said. “Then he can introduce you to whoever he thinks fit. Captain Aubrey should be here.”

Caleb grunted. He wanted to see his father, and under different circumstances, meeting Aubrey would be a privilege. However, he wasn’t looking forward to being shown off to his father’s friends. But how interested will they be in a Naval officer anyway? he asked himself hopefully.

“Ah, my long-lost son has returned!” Caleb’s father said loudly as soon as Caleb stepped into the large reception room. The guests had split into different groups, chatting with one another, while a long table held refreshments. Everyone stopped speaking and turned to look. Caleb froze, his cheeks reddening.

His father moved from where he had been standing to meet Caleb. Jackson Hawthorne was tall, standing at six foot three. Both he and his son had blue eyes and blond hair. Where Caleb was thin and wiry, his father was broad-shouldered, and his hair was finely styled. Caleb was surprised to see streaks of gray running through the blond. There were also a lot more wrinkles on his father’s face. He’s aged, Caleb realized in surprise. Over the years, in his mind, his father had remained the man Caleb had run away from.

Without waiting for Caleb to say anything, Jackson pulled his son into a tight embrace. Caleb resisted for a fraction of a second, then put his arms around his father—he didn’t want to make a scene, at least not more of one than his father was already making.

But just as Caleb expected his father to let go, Jackson hugged him tighter. It actually felt like a genuinely warm embrace.

“I truly am glad you’re home, son,” Jackson whispered. “It has been far too long.”

Caleb didn’t know what to think, so he just held himself still.

Eventually, Jackson let Caleb go. He then held Caleb at arm’s length. “What’s wrong? Have you nothing to say?”

Caleb’s eyes darted to the many nearby guests. Some had gone back to their conversations, but not all.

“Don’t worry about them. They all have their own things going on. Just pretend it’s just you and me,” Jackson said.

Caleb took a deep breath. Now that he was looking his father in the eyes and the moment was upon him, he knew what he had to say. “It’s good to be home.” He smiled, his words genuine. “I have missed it—at least some of it. And… I owe you an apology. It seems I’ve been giving a lot of them out today. I shouldn’t have run away like I did. I should have dealt with my problems—our problems—like a man, face to face.”

Caleb felt better almost immediately. He had unloaded some of the burden he had been carrying for years. There was much more to say, but he had made a start. He braced himself for his father’s reply.

Jackson stared into Caleb’s eyes, as if trying to read what his son was truly thinking. Then he nodded. “Good. Like a man—I like that. Yes, we should have talked things out more. But that’s all in the past now. And things have worked out.”

“That’s it?” Caleb asked, his fingers twitching, wanting to curl into fists.

“We can talk more later, of course,” Jackson said. “About the past and the future. For now, there are some people I want you to meet.” Without waiting for Caleb’s permission, he put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, turned him toward a group of his guests, and moved toward them.

Caleb wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at his father. I just apologized! Doesn’t he know why I ran away? Why is he doing the very same things all over again? Publicly, his father was showing everyone in the room that whatever political meeting this was about was more important than reconnecting with his son. More than that, he’s making it plain to me! Caleb thought as his teeth ground together.

Despite how he felt, Caleb was no longer the petulant teenager who had run away from his problems. He was a Naval officer. As his father began to introduce him, Caleb acted accordingly. While he raged on the inside, he smiled, nodded, and made a few short comments at the appropriate moments. Then his father led him to another group, and then another.

It quickly became apparent to Caleb that the meeting was indeed an important one. He spoke to at least six other Governors, nine Colonial Representatives, and quite a number of very wealthy businessowners and landowners. Rarely did Caleb remember his father hosting so many foreign dignitaries in the past. Almost as unusual was the diversity of the leaders. They weren’t just from the Beowulf sector but from the Capricorn and Eridani sectors as well. Some must have traveled for weeks to get to Newport.

As the conversations lengthened, Caleb noticed something else. Almost nothing of importance was being said. For such a gathering, he had expected local or even Republic-wide politics to dominate the discussions. Yet hardly anything was mentioned about the political or economic situations of any of the guests’ homeworlds. It was so unusual that Caleb began to grow suspicious. It’s like everyone else is in on something—something they won’t discuss around me.

Even without any deep conversations, Caleb quickly discovered that his father had lost none of his skills. In each group, he slipped into the conversation as if he had been there the entire time. He then went around the group, making people feel at ease, eliciting laughs, and drawing those more on the sidelines into the center of the conversation. He achieved all this in a matter of minutes before moving on and repeating the feat again and again, leading Caleb around the room and introducing him to all his guests.

As impressed as Caleb was, what he was seeing only made his resentment grow. Why couldn’t he have turned those skills on us? Caleb wondered. If he can see through everyone so easily and give them what they want, why not us? Why did politics always come first for him?

“Look who it is,” an authoritative voice said as Jackson led Caleb to another group. “The hero of the hour.”

The tone instinctively made Caleb stiffen, as if he had just walked onto the bridge of a warship. As the group parted, Caleb stiffened further when Captain George Aubrey came into view. Though he was in civilian clothes, Caleb recognized him immediately.

“Captain,” Caleb said, fighting the urge to snap his hand into a salute. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The hero of the hour?” one of Caleb’s father’s guests asked, appraising him.

“The lad’s passenger ship ran into a spot of pirate trouble on the way here,” Aubrey said, giving Caleb a smile. “He handled himself quite well.”

“I didn’t hear anything about another pirate attack,” another guest said.

“The Regulators got there right quick,” Aubrey explained as he winked at Caleb. “But all the naval captains in the area received an information packet outlining the basics of what happened—just in case we run across the pirate ship ourselves.”

Caleb stared open-mouthed at Aubrey. The captain had just broken at least five separate regulations—and he had clearly enjoyed doing it!

“Come now, let’s not get ourselves into trouble,” Jackson said smoothly. “I’m sure that whatever happened, the Regulators have it under control. Let’s talk of happier things. You know, Aubrey, I believe it was your promotion to captain that inspired my son to head off to the Naval Academy.”

“Really?” Aubrey said, raising an eyebrow at Caleb. “Well, you’re certainly following my example well. You’ve made Second Lieutenant a year before I did. If you stay in the Navy, you’ll probably have a ship of your own someday. Is that your intention?”

Caleb glanced at his father. His face was expressionless. Throughout Caleb’s teenage years, his father had trained him to follow in his footsteps into Newport politics. That had been the only time Caleb felt he had received any attention from his father. But Caleb had always known politics wasn’t for him—it had been one of the sources of their many fights.

Here goes, Caleb thought as he focused on Aubrey. “Yes. I’m here for my sabbatical. But I already know what I want. I’ll be returning to the Admiralty and applying for a First Lieutenant’s spot in six months.”

Caleb was surprised by the little bit of guilt he felt. When he glanced at his father again, though, it vanished. His father’s expression remained the same—disinterested. Does he even care what I do? Caleb wondered. But then he remembered his father’s earlier hug. It had felt real. Caleb shook his head, feeling confused.

Still watching his father, Caleb saw him give a little start. Jackson then reached into his pocket and pulled out a very old-fashioned-looking timepiece. “Ah,” he said, looking up at his guests. “It’s time for our little demonstration.” He glanced back and forth between Aubrey and Caleb. “Perfect timing. We wouldn’t want you two getting too friendly, after all.”

Caleb frowned. “What are you—”

His father cut him off, turning toward the rest of the guests and raising his voice. “Excuse me, everyone. May I have your attention? I’d like to officially apologize for delaying our initial meeting by a week. I’m sorry for any inconvenience that may have caused you.”

Caleb’s frown deepened. He delayed the meeting by a week? Caleb’s ship had been delayed by the Regulators for exactly that amount of time. He didn’t delay this meeting just so I could be here… did he?

Jackson continued. “But we are all here now. And so, we can begin our demonstration.” With a wave to one of his aides, Jackson ordered a large holo projector to be activated. It sprang to life at the far side of the reception room, and an image of Newport filled the room with color.

Jackson then gestured to Caleb. “My son has just returned from six years of active service with the Republic Navy. He’s had little contact with any of us and is therefore out of touch with events in the Rim. That makes him the perfect person to command the opposition force.” Jackson smiled at Caleb. “Son, are you up for running a tactical simulation for the benefit of our guests? You’ll be facing Captain Aubrey. I’m sure you’re both eager to test your abilities against one another.”

Caleb couldn’t hide the shock on his face as he stared at his father. Like Aubrey had before, his father winked at him and then nodded, silently urging him to accept. Caleb looked at Aubrey, who raised his eyebrows questioningly. Then Caleb took in the rest of the guests—they were all waiting for him.

Caleb felt trapped. His father had maneuvered him perfectly. He had no idea what was going on or what the simulation entailed. But he did know one thing—he had no desire to play his father’s games. Still, how could he say no in front of so many people?

As he looked around, his eyes found Rebecca’s. She was standing in a corner by herself. She gave him the faintest of smiles and then nodded, silently encouraging him to accept. Caleb wasn’t sure he could trust her—she was almost certainly on his father’s side. But he chose to anyway. He wasn’t used to a woman smiling at him like that.

“Okay,” Caleb said. “I’ll do it.”

The room broke into a gentle applause as the guests showed their appreciation. Then his father placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and led him toward a simulator suite that several aides were setting up in one corner of the room. “You’re going to enjoy this,” Jackson assured his son.

Caleb just grunted. He wasn’t so sure. Fighting Aubrey would be fun, but not in front of so many important dignitaries – what if he lost? That was a small concern though. Mostly, he was wary. Just what is going on?

Chapter 6

Sitting down in the simulation chair, Caleb rolled his shoulders to get comfortable, then nodded to the technician standing nearby. The man stepped forward and placed a large oval helmet over Caleb’s head. After a moment, the helmet synced with his neural implant. Caleb closed his eyes, feeling a brief wave of discomfort. When he opened them, he was on the bridge of a large Republic warship. Looking around, he found himself in the Captain’s chair.

The first thing that caught his attention was the ship’s main holo display. It showed a similar image of Newport to the one in the reception room, except this one was full of symbols marking structures and targets detected by his warship’s sensors.

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he studied the display. Two large forts were in orbit, both far larger than the single fort Newport currently had. Details scrolling beside them indicated they each had three double six-inch guns—far heavier firepower than the two single four-inch guns of the real fort. More than that, each fort seemed to have as much armor as the forts that defended the thirteen founder worlds, and those were more armored than any other fort in the Republic.

Equally unlikely, there were six armed freighters keeping station behind the forts. Three mounted a single six-inch gun, while the other three carried single four-inch guns. The only familiar ship in orbit was Aubrey’s light cruiser Ajax. She too sat safely behind the forts.

Next, Caleb studied his own ships. With a tap on his command chair, he changed the holo display to show the space around his ship. He puffed out his cheeks at the sight. He was in a heavy cruiser! Alone, its six twin nine-inch turrets put out more firepower than all of Newport’s defenders combined. One of his first lessons at the Naval Academy had been that for every inch a gun’s caliber increased, the mass of its shell grew by approximately thirty percent.

Caleb’s flagship wasn’t alone. Two more heavy cruisers sat on either side of her. Further out, there were three light cruisers and six destroyers. It was one of the largest concentrations of Republic warships Caleb had ever seen. Certainly, it would constitute the largest task force ever assembled in the Rim.

Hanging back from the initial ships, Caleb spotted a second group. Zooming in, it took him a few seconds to recognize them. Troop ships! he realized. What are they doing in my task force?

With growing suspicion, Caleb activated the small holo display on his command chair and read his orders for the simulation. The orders were from the Republic Senate itself. At the top there was a date – the simulation was set two years in the future. Below, he was instructed to move into Newport orbit, secure the orbital defenses, and land his force of sixty thousand Colonial Militia. Caleb’s eyes widened at the number of Militia. There couldn’t be more than half a million Militia in the entire Republic. More than a tenth were being committed against Newport.

What is going on? Caleb asked himself as he looked back up at the main display showing his warships. Why would my father and his friends want to see how Newport would fare against a full-blown invasion? What could they possibly think would make the Senate send an invasion force here?

Even as Caleb asked himself the question, he knew the answer. He had already suspected. “Pirates!” he hissed to himself. Father must be involved with the pirates. He’s been involved for years. That’s where Newport’s wealth has come from. And now he’s afraid the Senate will come for him. So he wants to show his friends they can defend themselves.

Caleb was horrified. The few pirates who plagued the Republic were merciless killers. If his father was arming and aiding them, his hands were as bloody as theirs. But what Caleb was seeing now was worse—Newport’s defenders clearly intended to resist a Republic Task Force. This is treasonous!

A part of Caleb still questioned what he was seeing. He didn’t know his father well at all, but could he really be capable of everything Caleb suspected? Yet a far larger part of Caleb was simply angry. His father had ignored him as a child while pursuing his political ambitions. When Caleb had run away, he hadn’t tried to bring him back. And now, after Caleb’s heartfelt apology, his father had said nothing. Instead, he had dragged Caleb straight into whatever illegal and treasonous schemes he was involved in.

No, Caleb wasn’t just angry. He was furious. Rage bubbled up within him.

Fine! Caleb thought, directing his anger toward his father. You want to show your friends what will happen if a Republic fleet comes here seeking justice? Then I’m going to show you. And when I do, you’ll regret treating me like this.

For a second, Caleb let his rage flow through him as he savored it, letting it fuel his motivation, then he allowed his training to take over. With more than a little effort, he pushed it deep down inside—not so far that he forgot it, but far enough that it wouldn’t distract him. He wanted it there, driving him on. Then, he got to work.

First, Caleb accessed files on each of the warships in his fleet. He uploaded them to his implant and scanned through them to ensure he understood what each ship could do. Next, he reviewed every detail his ships’ passive scanners were picking up from within the system to make sure he knew exactly what he was up against. Then, he began to strategize.

The regulations for an attack on a planet were centuries old. One file Caleb checked had been written over eight hundred years ago. In all that time, it had never been used. As far as Caleb knew, there hadn’t been a battle larger than a skirmish involving two pirate ships in over two millennia. Despite that, a naval captain facing a scenario like Caleb’s would be expected to follow the regulations. That meant taking the fleet toward the forts, sneaking as close as possible, then opening fire with rail cannons to pound the forts into submission.

But Aubrey will know the regulations as well as I do, and he’ll be ready for that, Caleb was sure. In fact, Aubrey might even suspect Caleb would break the regulations. He already knew Caleb had done so when he led Atlas to safety from the pirates that had hunted the cruise liner. Which means I need to do something completely out of the box.

As Caleb thought about it, one problem stood out. Although he had some scans of the inner system, there was a very good chance Aubrey had surprises in store for him. He did have one advantage, though, Caleb realized: he had seen the rail gun foundry. He knew how many spare rail guns his father had. He may have even more, but I at least know the minimum number.

Caleb did some quick calculations. He had seen approximately twenty-four rail cannons. If the forts had six cannons each and the six ships each had one, that made eighteen. So there could be at least six other ships out there. Then Caleb remembered the date of the simulation. The battle was set two years in the future. If Newport’s shipyard could produce two freighters per month, minimally, that would give Aubrey another twenty-four armed freighters.

This is the point of the simulation, Caleb realized. They want to see what they can do to an unsuspecting Republic fleet with all the extra rail guns and ships they’ve been building in secret. It is a set up! I am meant to lose… Well, you’re going to be disappointed! Caleb promised his father.

As Caleb now saw it, he needed to do three things: throw out the regulations, find a way to locate the rest of Aubrey’s ships before they could surround him, and get his troop ships into orbit. Slowly, a plan began to form in his mind. The early Queen attack! He smiled at the thought. He had no idea if it would work. But he knew one thing—no one would be able to say it was conventional.

“Comms, send a signal toward the planet,” Caleb said, looking over at the simulated Lieutenant manning the comms console on the heavy cruiser’s bridge. “Under direct orders from the Senate, every armed ship in the system is to power down their reactors and engines and turn on their transponders. Both of Newport’s forts are to reorient themselves to point their weapons toward the planet and then shut off their reactors as well.”

“Message sent, Captain.”

“Alright, Tactical, draw up these orders for the fleet, then begin sending ships into the system according to my timetable.” As Caleb spoke, he began dragging holo images of various ships from his fleet and placing them on courses that would take them into the system.

“Aye, Captain, but should we not wait for a response from the planet?” the heavy cruiser’s tactical officer asked.

“No, and do not question my orders again,” Caleb responded, not in the mood to explain himself to a simulation. The simulated officers were only programmed to follow the regulations and would be of no use to him beyond doing exactly what he said.

With the touch of a button on his command chair, Caleb sped up the simulation. It took a couple of seconds for Aubrey to agree, but when he did, the simulation began flowing far faster. Next, Caleb deployed a drone from his heavy cruiser with a prerecorded message. At exactly the time when a message from Newport in response to his call for surrender would reach his drone, it was programmed to transmit another message informing Newport’s defenders that hostilities would now begin.

The deception would make it appear as though his heavy cruiser was still in the same position—just as standard Senate regulations required. According to those regulations, Caleb wasn’t allowed to initiate hostile actions against a system or planet until they had a chance to surrender. But instead of staying put, Caleb set his main formation in motion as soon as the drone was clear.

For the next ten minutes—equivalent to over two hours in the simulation—nothing happened beyond the exchange of messages. Then the first flotilla of destroyers Caleb had sent forward found what he had been expecting. He had divided his six destroyers into two formations, both moving into the system using their passive sensors to search for hidden defenders.

On the holo display, energy spikes blossomed as two ships suddenly started firing at one another. Then a message arrived from Caleb’s lead destroyer, reporting a contact. The message was three minutes old by the time it reached Caleb, so he gave no orders. Instead, he watched as the fight played out.

At first, the lead destroyer opened fire with its three four-inch rail guns, launching three salvos toward the area of space where it had detected an enemy ship. Though Caleb couldn’t see it directly, after each salvo, the destroyer altered its course to ensure anyone detecting the energy spikes from its fire would have difficulty tracking it.

The first two salvos exploded to no effect—no enemy ships were hit by their shrapnel. Just before the third salvo of three shells detonated, Caleb’s ship detected a new energy spike. It registered as a single six-inch cannon firing. It had to be an armed freighter. Moments later, the destroyer’s shells exploded, flinging thousands of tungsten slivers into the area of space the armed freighter was passing through.

Fortunately for the freighter, only one piece of shrapnel hit it.

Caleb sat up in his command chair when his cruiser detected the hit. His destroyer had been firing High Energy (HE) shells. These shells superheated their tungsten slivers upon detonation, designed to embed themselves within enemy armor and make it easier to track and target the ship. Afterward, shells releasing waves of larger Armor-Piercing (AP) tungsten slivers could be used to try and score crippling hits on rapidly maneuvering enemy ships. At extremely close ranges Solid Shot (SS) shells could even be used to quickly destroy a target. Against a freighter, however, a single HE sliver should have easily blown through its hull.

Instead of a detonation, Caleb watched on his screen as the sliver that had hit the freighter began to move with the ship’s momentum.

“They’re armored!” Caleb gasped. That wasn’t something Rebecca showed him being built.

Confirming it was still operational, the freighter fired again at Caleb’s lead destroyer. However, its days were now numbered. With its position fixed, the other two destroyers in Caleb’s lead flotilla revealed themselves by opening fire. Yet the armed freighter wasn’t alone. In the space of six minutes, five other freighters were detected firing as well.

In a very short time, space around Caleb’s lead destroyer flotilla became full of exploding shells and waves of tungsten slivers as the maneuvering ships tried to predict each other’s moves and slam shells into one another. The freighter struck by the initial HE sliver was the first to die. Two AP shells detonated near it almost simultaneously. At least twenty AP slivers tore through its armor and ripped apart its innards. In the blink of an eye, the freighter became a drifting wreck.

A second freighter was destroyed seven minutes later. Then one of Caleb’s destroyers was hit by an HE round. Suddenly, four more armed freighters that had stayed hidden opened fire now that they had a good track on the destroyer.

The destroyer’s simulated crew desperately tried to locate the HE sliver and remove it while their ship maneuvered wildly. They were only partially successful. The crew managed to eject the sliver, but by then, eight shells were already closing in on the destroyer. Over the next three minutes, each shell detonated, flinging hundreds of AP slivers at the ship. Most missed, but six found their mark.

The destroyer’s armor held off four of the slivers, but two penetrated. While the damage was minimal—one shell disabled a gun, and the other crashed through several decks without hitting anything vital—the damage was enough to allow the nearby freighters to continue tracking the destroyer. Quickly, every gun the defenders had targeted it.

In just fifteen minutes, the destroyer was battered repeatedly. Its crew fought on until their last gun was disabled, but then they surrendered—as regulations dictated.

By then, the battle had significantly widened. The two remaining destroyers of Caleb’s lead flotilla were joined by his second flotilla, attacking from a slightly different angle as they entered the system on an adjacent course. Fire from at least twenty-one freighters had been detected, and a chaotic, confusing shootout developed as each ship tried to identify the energy spikes from enemy fire, track the likely headings of the ships, and saturate the area with HE slivers to obtain better targeting solutions.

To make things even more confusing for the defenders, Caleb used one of the standard tricks he and his friends had developed while simming against one another. From time to time, his destroyers launched small groups of recon drones that would then emit energy pulses similar to rail gun fire, giving the defenders more targets to track.

Over the span of twenty more minutes of fighting, four more armored freighters were taken out, while one more of Caleb’s destroyers came under heavy attack. Then Caleb’s light cruisers entered the fray. Hanging back from the relatively close-range fighting, they opened fire with their six-inch guns from positions where the armed freighters would struggle to detect the energy spikes from their rail guns. The first declaration of their presence came when their larger shells began detonating all around an enemy freighter, ripping it to shreds.

Apart from the decoy drones, Caleb was fighting the battle according to standard battle tactics outlined in the regulations—and in many ways, it made sense. Caleb had sent his two flotillas of destroyers in first to flush out the enemy. Further back, his larger light cruisers could fire on the armed ships with their heavier guns without being detected.

Aubrey was clearly ready for Caleb’s actions, however. As soon as the first Republic six-inch shells detonated, half of the armed freighters broke off from fighting Caleb’s destroyers. They charged in the general direction the larger shells had come from, searching for Caleb’s larger warships. Soon, Caleb’s light cruisers began detecting additional freighters moving in from their flanks as well. Aubrey had anticipated the direction Caleb’s force would attack from and had ships waiting to intercept them.

To make matters worse for Caleb’s forces, the first shells from Newport’s forts finally reached the battlefield. With a flight time of over forty minutes, the three double six-inch guns of each fort hadn’t been able to fire without confirmed targets. Now, with at least three of Caleb’s destroyers hit by HE slivers, the forts had their opportunity. In a series of coordinated salvos, they blanketed areas of space with AP slivers. After just three such salvos, another of Caleb’s destroyers was badly crippled.

Aubrey’s tactics were clear to Caleb. He was doing the reverse of what Caleb had done with his destroyers and light cruisers. Aubrey was using his fragile and lightly armed freighters to pinpoint Caleb’s ships so the forts could blast them apart. In this way, if Aubrey could locate Caleb’s three heavy cruisers, the forts could engage them at long range and end the fight before Caleb could close with Newport.

But that’s not going to happen, Caleb thought with a smile. He had something entirely different in mind.

While his destroyers and light cruisers continued to duke it out with Newport’s defenders, Caleb’s heavy cruisers moved into the system along a completely different path. From the moment he had ordered his ships to move, Caleb had looped his heavy cruisers up and over the expected battlefield. As enemy ships revealed themselves by firing, he adjusted the heading of his heavy ships, keeping them well out of detection range, and so, they were never seen.

Aubrey did, however, locate one of Caleb’s light cruisers. As soon as it was spotted, Newport’s forts opened fire on it. For another fifty minutes, the battle raged as both sides hammered one another. Aubrey’s losses mounted as he took great risks with his ships in an effort to push past Caleb’s light cruisers and see what lay behind them. Caleb lost another destroyer, but in exchange, his ships destroyed seven more freighters.

Then, the light cruiser targeted by the defenders suffered a critical hit. An AP sliver pierced its rear starboard armor and severed a power line from its reactor to two of its impulse engines. With the sudden loss of thrust, the cruiser’s evasive maneuvers were immediately compromised. If it remained in the fight, the forts would be able to bring increasingly concentrated waves of tungsten slivers down upon it.

The setback was exactly what Caleb had been waiting for. He immediately ordered all his destroyers and light cruisers to retreat. As they pulled back, they shifted their fire from the nearby freighters to the distant forts. The forts posed the greatest threat to Caleb’s damaged cruiser, so suppressing their fire was a logical move for a retreating force. It also supported what Caleb was truly intending.

For the next thirty minutes, Aubrey’s forces chased the retreating Republic warships. Both sides suffered additional hits, but no ships were destroyed. Then, all of a sudden, the armed freighters stopped firing. Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he studied the holo display in front of him. There was only one reason for the freighters to stop firing—they wanted to hide a course change.

“He’s on to me,” Caleb said aloud, though, of course, no one was listening. Aubrey had finally realized that he hadn’t seen any sign of Caleb’s heavy cruisers. If they hadn’t engaged his forces, then they must be somewhere else…

Sure enough, within minutes, fresh energy spikes began to appear from the two forts and Ajax. These weren’t from rail guns firing but from recon drones being launched into space. It didn’t take long for the drones to go active. As they streaked through space at high speeds, they flooded the areas they passed through with active sensor emissions.

On his command chair, a panel flashed to get Caleb’s attention. He smiled when he saw what it was. Since the fighting had started, the simulation had automatically slowed to three times normal speed. Now, Aubrey was requesting an increase to ten times speed. He’s testing me, Caleb was sure. If Caleb agreed, it would tell Aubrey that none of his recon drones were anywhere near Caleb’s hidden ships. If he didn’t, it would signal to Aubrey that Caleb still felt safe.

For five minutes, Caleb ignored the request. Then, just after Aubrey launched a fresh wave of drones in a direction far from Caleb’s location, Caleb agreed to the increase in speed. The next half-hour in the simulation passed without any major incidents. Caleb’s retreating ships pounded the forts, but their thick armor deflected or absorbed every AP sliver that hit them. Conversely, the forts struggled to score any hits in return as the range widened further.

Then Aubrey revealed his desperation. All at once, all of his armed freighters—except those still in orbit—powered up their active sensors. Doing so revealed their locations and trajectories to Caleb; they were all racing back toward Newport. The sudden surge of active sensors filled the space around the planet with electromagnetic radiation. The hulls of Caleb’s three heavy cruisers were designed to absorb small levels of radiation, but they weren’t the stealthiest ships in the Republic fleet.

“At this rate, the radiation will start to overload our absorption levels in ten minutes,” the cruiser’s tactical officer informed Caleb.

“So be it,” Caleb said. He had already gotten closer to his target than he had expected. “In six minutes, we come out of low-power mode and go to full acceleration. All guns are to open up on the forts.”

“Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer replied in a neutral tone.

“Comms, as soon as we reveal ourselves, send a message to the planet to evacuate the population centers below the forts,” Caleb ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the woman at the comms console replied.

The regulations strictly forbade firing Solid Shot at orbital targets. A miss would send a solid tungsten shell plunging through the planet’s atmosphere. Depending on the size of the shell, the ground strike could annihilate a small town. If Caleb wanted to, with his three heavy cruisers, he could level an entire city in half an hour. In a real battle, Caleb would never contemplate firing such heavy rounds toward a planet. But this was a simulation, and he was already breaking all the regulations, so he didn’t see why he shouldn’t break a few more.

Caleb smiled as he imagined Aubrey receiving the comm message. There was no need for Caleb to send it; Aubrey would find out about the SS shells when they started hitting his forts. Caleb just wanted to add a little flair. Aubrey would know what was coming, but there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.

“Going to full power,” the heavy cruiser’s tactical officer called out when the moment came. “Opening fire,” he added seconds later.

Together, all three of Caleb’s heavy cruisers fired. The nine twin nine-inch turrets flung thirty-six SS shells toward Newport’s two forts. As soon as they could bring their guns to bear, the forts, the six armed freighters in orbit with them, and Ajax returned fire.

“Beginning evasive maneuvers,” the cruiser’s navigation officer informed Caleb.

With no concern for his own safety or his heavy cruisers, Caleb charged Newport’s defenders. He had already snuck his ships in close, and now, with his ships accelerating at full power, the range began to close rapidly. Almost immediately, both sides began to score hits.

The forts suffered first. Two solid shot shells struck one of the forts from Caleb’s initial salvo. They only caused minimal damage, though. The forts were essentially massive blobs of armor, behind which rail guns were mounted. Between firing, the rail gun ports could be sealed away behind up to fifty meters of solid armor.

The first shells from Newport’s defenders, fired hastily, all missed. The second salvo, however, was another matter. Caleb was shaken around in his command chair just seconds after AP shells detonated in front of his formation.

“Three hits,” an officer called out. “Hull breaches on decks seven and nine. No serious damage reported yet.”

Caleb watched in silence. The simulated officers and gunners would all perform their duties as efficiently as if they weren’t under fire at all. Twice more, his cruisers hit the fort they were focusing on. Visuals showed massive holes blasted into its armor, yet its rate of fire hadn’t faltered.

In stark contrast, his three warships were taking a beating. A secondary display showed Caleb the status of each heavy cruiser. As the hits from AP slivers mounted, critical systems were impaired or destroyed. Caleb’s cruiser lost two key maneuvering thrusters, significantly reducing her evasive capabilities. The second cruiser in the line lost one of her rail gun turrets, cutting her firepower by a third. The third cruiser was faring better but had still suffered four hits already.

“Switch targets,” Caleb ordered in frustration. “Take out Ajax. Switch to AP shells, tight dispersion.”

Caleb grunted in satisfaction when, seven minutes later, Ajax flashed on the holo display as massive energy spikes indicated she had been hit.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Caleb’s heavy cruisers tore Aubrey’s light cruiser apart. Aubrey didn’t surrender, forcing Caleb to destroy the warship outright. Next, he turned his fire on the six armed freighters stationed with the forts, quickly eliminating them.

Despite these successes, the volume of fire Caleb faced increased as the freighters racing back to Newport joined the fray. The forts also continued to pound his cruisers, driving tungsten slivers through their armor and tearing apart internal systems.

“Switch back to fort one,” Caleb ordered once the last freighter in orbit was destroyed. “I want it taken out if we can!”

Three more salvos hit the fort, scoring at least seven hits. After the explosions from the third salvo cleared, only four of the fort’s six guns returned fire.

“That’s it, we’re doing it!” Caleb exclaimed. His excitement was short lived. Moments later, his flagship took another hit. Damage alarms blared, and smoke filled the simulated bridge.

“We’ve lost turrets one and two—all four guns offline,” an officer reported.

“Passive targeting sensors are down,” another added. “We’re almost blind.”

The holo display showed the top forward two-thirds of Caleb’s cruiser flashing, indicating critical damage. Still, one twin turret remained operational. “Have heavy cruiser two send us targeting data and keep firing our remaining gun,” Caleb ordered.

Eleven more minutes, he thought as his eyes flicked to another group of ships on the holo display. His force had to endure just two more salvos.

Though tungsten slivers continued smashing through all three heavy cruisers, they held together. “Turn us away!” Caleb commanded when the counter on his secondary display reached zero. “Keep firing at those forts but get us out of here.”

As Caleb’s heavy cruisers turned away, six new contacts appeared on Newport’s defenders’ holo displays: Caleb’s troop ships. They had stayed hidden, approaching from another angle while the defenders focused all their sensors on the heavy cruisers’ charge.

With only two four-inch guns each, the troop ships couldn’t destroy a fort, but they joined the cruisers in firing at the defenses. Their goal was to distract the forts for twenty more minutes, enough time to reach Newport.

The defenders immediately targeted the troop ships, recognizing the greater threat. It took two salvos for the defenders to find the range but when they did, their fire became deadly. Two troops ships were crippled as AP slivers shredded their thin armor and wrecked their innards. However, after two more salvos from Caleb’s cruisers, fort one finally succumbed to the relentless barrage of SS shells. Whilst it didn’t explode or fall out of orbit, all of its guns went silent.

Caleb pumped his fist in the air. The fort's loss significantly reduced the amount of fire targeting the troop ships and turned the battle. Though three of the remaining four troop ships suffered damage, they all managed to reach orbit. As soon as they did, hundreds of small contacts appeared around each one as shuttles launched and raced toward the planet’s surface.

Even as the shuttles began landing, another salvo of shells destroyed a third troop ship. Caleb smiled despite the massive loss of life. He had done it. His objectives had been met. Seconds later, one of his secondary displays flashed to confirm he had landed enough troops. Then the main display in front of him went blank, and everything else around him faded.

As Caleb came out of the simulation, he was still smiling. His force had been wrecked, but so had Aubrey’s. More importantly, according to the simulation’s criteria, he had landed enough troops to conquer his homeworld.

So, Father, what are you going to make of that? he wondered as the simulation helmet began to be unfastened from his head.