Into the Breach

Empire Rising Book 15

D. J. Holmes

https://www.facebook.com/Author.D.J.Holmes

d.j.holmess@hotmail.com

Comments welcome!

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 2022

Prologue

Yun’mun system, ten light years outside the Karacknid Empire.

Several vibrations ran through Rarmanca’s nest, gently waking her. Uncoiling her body, she stretched out her tail to its full length. Only then did she slowly open her eyes. A holo display built into her nest had already activated, and her ship’s computer was showing her what had prompted it to wake her. He has arrived, Rarmanca thought as her forked tongue flicked back-and-forth, between her lips. She was eager to get on with the exchange. Other pressing matters demanded her attention, and she wanted to go back to Eaglaton space. The display told her Tanaka-lan was one day late, but such delays were to be expected when both parties had to travel hundreds of light years. “Activate the other ships, take us out of orbit and onto a course to rendezvous with the Karacknid squadron,” Rarmanca ordered her ship’s computer. A beep in reply was all the computer needed to inform her the orders were already being carried out.

Slithering out of her nest, Rarmanca’s excitement to be getting on with her mission faltered as she contemplated having to don her disguise. Though she was well used to the biological and mechanical hybrids her species had long ago perfected, wearing one of the prosthetics was never pleasurable. At least it will only be for several hours, she encouraged herself. When she got back to Eaglaton space, she’d likely have to spend weeks, if not months, undercover furthering her plans for the avian species and its client states.

Approaching the large cylinder tank within which the particular alien form she needed floated, Rarmanca tapped a button with her tail. In a matter of seconds, the fluid within the tank drained away, and then a hatch swung open. Moving up into the tank, Rarmanca entered the alien form through the small entrance made for her. Worming her way inside, she settled into the command nodule and allowed hundreds of small antennae to reach forward and connect to her body. Together, the antenna would allow her to precisely control the alien form as if it was an extension of her own body.

The last connection needed was the command helmet, as it moved down to fit perfectly across the top of her head, Rarmanca closed her eyes and prepared for the connection. Moments later, a sharp pain flashed through her mind and then outwards to her eyes and ears. It went as quickly as it came, however, and in its place, Rarmanca was greeted with the sights, smells, and sounds being picked up by the alien body.

Taking her time, Rarmanca went through the familiar process of testing her control over the prosthetic. First, she looked around, getting used to seeing through new eyes. Next she began to move her claws, arms, and legs. Confident that everything was working correctly, she reached forward and tapped the button that released the clamps holding her new body in place. Falling just a handful of centimeters, she landed perfectly balanced on the bottom of the tank. Another button opened a larger hatch that gave her enough room to duck down and step out onto the deck of her ship’s main hanger bay. Moving forward as expertly as if she was controlling her own body, Rarmanca left the hangar and proceeded to her ship’s bridge.

Sitting in the command chair designed for her prosthetic, she activated the bridge’s main holo display. An image of her ship and the six other freighters that were in formation behind it appeared. Rarmanca studied it until she was content the ships looked exactly as they should. Of course, there was little chance that they wouldn’t, but she wanted to make sure. Though built within the Rarmanca’s home system, they had been constructed according to Racumin designs. The only change had been the artificial intelligence command and control capabilities built into each. To all intents and purposes, to the Karacknid squadron that was approaching, the ships would look every inch as if they were Racumin freighters, identical to the ones they had dealt with when trading weapons technologies with the Flex-aor.

Rarmanca’s physical disguise would complete the ruse. Even to the most advanced sensors the Karacknid’s were known to have, a detailed bodily scan would tell the technicians they were looking at a member of the Racumin species. Only a dissection of her prosthetic would reveal what it truly was, but any attempt to carry out such a dissection would cause the prosthetic’s built-in self-destruct to detonate.

“We are being hailed,” the ship’s artificial intelligence reported.

Rarmanca’s tongue flicked back-and-forth again. She took a moment to mentally don her Racumin persona, then she nodded her prosthetic’s head. “Put it on the holo display,” she ordered.

At once, an image of Tanaka-lan appeared. He looked as imposing as ever. “Ambassador Savoy, I see you have brought your end of the bargain. I am glad to see it. I did not want to have to hunt down your species’ homeworld and teach your people not to cross a Karacknid.”

The lips of Rarmanca’s real body cracked. She knew Tanaka-lan had no idea where the Racumin’s homeworld was. His threat was empty. She didn’t doubt he had scouts out searching for it. The Karacknid Admiral would want to conquer the Racumin once he finally won his civil war and defeated the alliance of species the Humans had built to confront his empire. Portraying a very different emotion to the one she felt, Rarmanca tilted the head of her prosthetic in a sign of respect. “My people do not wish to earn the ire of the Karacknid people. Both we and our benefactor honored our agreement. As promised, we have the weapons we described to you. Once we rendezvous, we will unload them and you will be free to take them with you.”

Tanaka-lan leaned forward in his command chair. His lips retracted to show his razor sharp teeth. “And just who are your benefactors?” He asked.

Rarmanca tried to make the face of her prosthetic look as blank as possible. “I’m afraid that is not information I am at liberty to divulge, except of course to say that they wish to see you victorious in your civil war.”

“And the Flex-aor successful in hurting the Humans,” Tanaka-lan replied. “Do not take me for a fool. I know why you wanted us to trade weapons with them. Any attacks they carry out with our weapons will cause the Humans to blame us. You are trying to restart the war between us and them.”

Rarmanca was all too aware of Tanaka-lan’s tactical brilliance and strategic awareness. From the beginning of her plan, she had known he wouldn’t be so easily deceived. “I’m afraid I am a simple ambassador, Imperator. I am not privy to the plans and councils of my leaders, nor my species’ benefactors. However, your analysis is most likely correct. Do you not wish to win your civil war and conquer the Humans?”

Rarmanca’s lips cracked again at Tanaka’lan’s response. Both his hands rose up into view and his long claws shot out of their sheaths. “I do not wish it, Ambassador. I will it. And I will see it done, with or without your fancy weapons.”

Rarmanca tilted the head of her prosthetic again. “Of that, I have no doubt, Imperator. I only hope that the weapons systems I bring now will aid you in these goals.”

Tanaka-lan let out a low rumble of a growl. Rarmanca took it that he wasn’t entirely happy. “Just make sure you inform whoever your benefactor is, that I am not fooled. I will unite the Karacknid people once again and I will conqueror all our enemies. But I will not be a pawn in someone else’s game. If your species or your benefactor try to meddle in Karacknid affairs, we will conquer and enslave your worlds just as we will the Humans.”

Though the irony was not lost on Rarmanca, for her species had indeed been meddling in Karacknid affairs for more than a millennium, she allowed none of her thoughts to be visible on her prosthetic’s face. “Of course, my species has no desire to anger your great civilization, Imperator. We simply wish to help you as best we can and so earn your favor rather than anger. For while we may have advanced weapon systems, we are a small and isolated species. We simply wish for you to leave us alone once you have conquered the Humans.”

Tanaka-lan paused before answering. Rarmanca guessed he knew she was lying. Tanaka-lan had to suspect that whoever was able to provide him with weapons even more powerful than those of his fleet, could have a sizable fleet as well. Nevertheless, he nodded. “If your weapons systems perform as promised, then your species will have nothing to fear from us.”

Rarmanca nodded in reply, knowing full well that Tanaka-lan was the one lying this time. There was no way he would allow any alien civilization to remain free that had weapon technologies greater than his own. “Just remember,” she advised him, “the weapons will only work once. And if you try to tamper with them or reverse engineer them, they will self-destruct.” She couldn’t help but add one more sentence. “I have been informed to advise you to use them wisely.”

Tanaka-lan growled louder this time. “Do not presume to tell me how to fight my war. What does a freighter Captain know of such things?”

“My humblest apologies,” Rarmanca replied as she tilted her prosthetic’s head again. “I meant no offence.” Purposefully, she turned her head slightly to one side as if looking at another screen. “Our ships are approaching your squadron. I must go to begin the unloading process. Once the weapons have been unloaded and my freighters have moved to a safe distance, you can close and collect them.”

“Very well. We will test one of the weapons and if it performs as advertised, your ships will be free to go,” Tanaka-lan said.

“As you wish,” Rarmanca replied. In reality, she could easily escape the Karacknid squadron. Her other freighters might not be any more capable than standard Racumin freighters, but she had made sure her’s had the full engine capabilities of a Silizzera’s warship. If she needed to escape, there was nothing Tanaka-lan could do to stop her.

“Then there is nothing more for us to discuss,” Tanaka-lan said. “Our business together is complete.”

“It appears so,” Rarmanca said. “If my Benefactors wish to speak with you again, they will be in touch.”

Tanaka-lan barked a sharp laugh. “Tell them not to bother.” Before Rarmanca had a chance to say anything, Tanaka-lan cut the COM channel.

“Begin the unloading process,” Rarmanca ordered her A.I., choosing to ignore the insult. Tanaka-lan hadn’t really insulted her, anyway. The Racumin civilization was a small, inconsequential one. They were nothing compared to the Karacknid civilization. And if Tanaka-lan ever does discover them and seek to discover their Benefactors, the trail will just lead back to the Eaglatons.

In silence, Rarmanca sat in her command chair watching as her drone shuttles unloaded the cargo from the various freighters. She remained in her prosthetic in case Tanaka-lan wanted to talk to her again. When all the cargo was removed, her ships began to back away. Over the course of the next hour, the Karacknid squadron moved alongside the weapons and began to examine them. One weapon was brought away from the others and orientated out towards an open area of space.

Five minutes later, it was activated. In the space of thirty seconds, six high-powered grazer beams were released from it. They covered a distance more than twice what Rarmanca knew Karacknid energy weapons could reach. Whoever Tanaka-lan chooses to use them against, they are going to get a surprise, Rarmanca thought as her tongue flicked out of her mouth in pride. The weapons were a long way away from the best the Silizzeras Navy could field, but they were still evidence of the supremacy of her species’ civilization and culture. It did concern her slightly that the weapons would only increase Tanaka-lan’s interest in ascertaining the Racumin’s benefactors. Yet, there was no way the trail could lead back to her or her people.

Less than a minute after the successful weapons test, the weapon detonated, blowing itself into millions of small pieces of debris. There would be nothing left for Karacknid scientists to pick through. Undeterred by the detonation of one of the weapons, more than fifty Karacknid shuttles suddenly appeared and began to move towards the rest of the weapons. Quickly, they began to collect them and bring them to the freighters Tanaka-lan had brought.

“Set course for the shift passage back towards Eaglaton space,” Rarmanca ordered her ship’s A.I. Her work was complete. Soon, the Karacknid civil war would be over, and the two largest threats her species faced in this sector of the galaxy would begin hurling their strength at one another once again.

Chapter 1

When it came, the war was sudden and swift.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, Bastion System, 3rd May 2509 AD.

Five minutes before Achilles was due to exit shift space, Jonathan stepped onto his destroyer’s bridge. The officer who first spotted him tensed. Her reaction was picked up and passed through the rest of the bridge officers. Sensing his presence, First Lieutenant Samantha Cortez looked up from the holo display of her command chair. She gave him a nod and a smile which Jonathan returned. “Everything is on schedule for our arrival at Bastion,” she reported.

“Glad to hear it,” Jonathan said in a jovial tone loud enough for all his officers to hear. He hid a smile as they began to relax. “I doubt we will be staying long, but I’m sure we’ll be able to give the crew several hours of shore leave.” More than one officer cracked a smile at his words. The Bastion colony was the only world Humanity had settled this side of the Gift wormhole. As a result, it held an air of mystery for the rest of the Empire’s citizens. Jonathan doubted it was substantially different than any of the other ninety worlds Humanity had colonized. Still, it would do his crew good to get the chance to find out for themselves, for once they left Bastian, he feared it would be many months before they would return to civilization.

Moving over to his command chair, Jonathan sat down and began to study the main holo display as his officers remembered they had their own responsibilities to oversee. A cursory glance at the display told Jonathan when they were scheduled to reach their destination and that all of Achilles’ main systems were functioning optimally. He was as much concerned with the latter as the former. Rear Admiral Salamanca commanded the Imperial Fleet based at Bastion. He had been his father’s navigation officer during the Gayla campaign in the Karacknid War. His father wouldn’t have promoted him up to the rank of Rear Admiral over the last twenty years if Salamanca didn’t know what he was doing. Which meant Salamanca would no doubt be watching Achilles closely. Jonathan wanted to make a good impression with his new commanding officer.

“Reverting to real space in thirty seconds,” Fifth Lieutenant Scholes informed the rest of the bridge officers from the navigation console.

When the timer on the main holo display reached zero, a slight tremor ran through Achilles as she tore open a hole in shift space and passed through it into the Bastion system. Within seconds, alarms blared informing Jonathan and the other officers that Achilles was being swept by targeting sensors. On the holo display, Achilles’ own sensors detected two nearby ships. Their transponders identified them as Imperial frigates. Nonetheless, as per standard operating procedures, Achilles’ shields were already powered up and her weapons systems fully manned.

“We’re being hailed by the frigate Foxglove, Captain Amelia Beckham,” Fourth Lieutenant Rutherford reported.

“Put her on screen,” Jonathan replied. “Transmit our identification codes as well.” When the main holo display changed to show the image of a Captain almost as young as Jonathan, he raised a hand in salute. Beckham returned the gesture. “I am Captain Somerville of the destroyer Achilles,” he informed her. “We have orders to report to Rear Admiral Salamanca at Bastion.”

Beckham nodded. “Captain Beckham of Foxglove. We are part of the system picket. My officers are examining your codes as we speak.” Beckham paused as she turned away from Jonathan. She said something that was inaudible and then turned back. “It seems they check out. Welcome to the Bastion system, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan replied. “It is a pleasure to be joining your fleet,” he said, though he could not bring himself to put too much feeling into his words. It was a small lie. Yet, his disappointment at his father sending him to Bastion was still raw, and so he had to put effort into it.

“And it is an honor to have the Imperial Prince serving with us,” Beckham said, causing Jonathan to stiffen. Now that everyone knew who he really was, no one treated him as a normal Captain anymore. He hated it, and yet could do nothing about it. “You may proceed on to the colony,” Beckham continued, unaware of Jonathan’s thoughts. “No doubt Rear Admiral Salamanca will wish to meet with you before the day is out….” Beckham opened her mouth as if she was going to say more, and then stopped herself.

Jonathan smiled at Beckham’s hesitation. “Go on, Captain, we are both equals here.”

“Do you bring any news regarding the Flex-aor? Has there been another attack? Have their tender ships been found yet?”

“Yes, no, and no,” Jonathan replied, his smile still on his face. Clearly, the Bastion system was starved for information. “When we left Earth, significant numbers of ships were still being reassigned to Vice Admiral Alveraz and Admiral Becket’s fleets. Many patrol ships have been sent out hunting for the Flex-aor fleet, but no new attacks have occurred, nor have there been any sightings. All is quiet at the moment, though I’m sure that will not last much longer.”

“No, I suppose not. Alvarez and Becket will begin to move out beyond our borders once they have their full strength, I’m sure,” Beckham replied. “And here we are thousands of light years away from the action!”

“Indeed,” Jonathan replied as he looked down to keep his own disappointment from his voice. “But we have our duty to do here, nonetheless.” The officers and crew of Achilles were already disappointed enough at having been transferred from what was now Admiral Becket’s fleet to the Bastion Fleet. Knowing that their Captain was even more upset than they were, wouldn’t help morale.

“Of course, Captain,” Beckham said, picking up something from Jonathan’s tone. “I hope we will get a chance to speak again.”

“As do I,” Jonathan said as he saluted the Captain farewell. “Set course for Bastion,” he ordered once the COM channel ended. “Transmit the Admiralty’s messages to Rear Admiral Salamanca’s flagship.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Rutherford acknowledged.

As Achilles got underway, Jonathan studied Foxglove and the other nearby frigate. Both looked smart and well kept. As they altered course to resume their patrols, their maneuvers were flawless. Jonathan gave them a mental nod. Despite being so far from Earth, Rear Admiral Salamanca had his ships well-trained. Turning from the system’s picket force, Jonathan slowly took in the Bastion system. No matter where he looked, he was impressed.

In the outer edges of the system and around many of the larger planetary bodies furthest from the system’s sun, various types of mining operations were underway. Hundreds of freighters were moving back and forth between them and Bastion. The inner system was even more impressive. Each of the system’s three gas giants had gas mining facilities, as well as a number of orbital battlestations and hangers. Two of the other inner planets were likewise fortified. The entire system was clearly designed to give a defender a wide scope of tactical capabilities. Bastion itself outshone everything else. Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet was immediately identifiable. Consisting of approximately one thousand five hundred ships, they dominated a part of the colony’s orbitals. Battlestations, hangers, fleet supply stations, construction yards and countless civilian stations filled out the rest.

Jonathan couldn’t help but be impressed. Bastion had been colonized just seventeen years ago. Chosen for its strategic location between the Gift and Conclave space, it was designed to serve as a fleet base for the Imperial Navy. Bastion’s position allowed an Imperial fleet to be based this side of the Gift where it could aid the Conclave species against the Karacknids. It also served as a repair and refitting hub for the additional thousand or so Imperial ships that served alongside the Conclave species’ navies protecting their borders.

After watching Salamanca’s fleet and all the orbital stations for more than an hour, Jonathan’s gaze finally focused on Bastion itself. The planet was not the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on, yet it had an intriguing orange tinge to it. He guessed that was something to do with the planet’s atmosphere. He knew from the reports he had read the planet was home to just over thirty million Imperial citizens. Given the size and scope of the system’s industrial and military development, the number was small. Yet, Jonathan understood. It was likely hard to attract colonists to the planet given how far away it was from Earth. Even more so because getting to Bastion required going through a wormhole. Navy personnel had to travel through the Gift when ordered. When Achilles had passed through the wormhole two weeks ago, Jonathan hadn’t exactly enjoyed the experience. But for those who are brave enough to come here, there are probably plenty of opportunities, Jonathan surmised. Nearly eighty percent of the planet’s surface consisted of habitable land. The report he had read said that over a thousand acres were being offered to any colonists that wish to settle and begin to grow the foodstuffs that would feed the crews of the fleet and industrial nodes in orbit. Jonathan knew next to nothing about farming; he suspected it wasn’t as simple as getting on a shuttle to Bastion and planting your first crop the day you arrived. It will take time, he thought as he stared at the planet. But, sooner rather than later, he was certain the Empire would master the planet’s surface.

When Achilles was just half an hour away from slotting into orbit around Bastion, Jonathan stood. “You have the bridge, First Lieutenant; I am going to retire to my quarters.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cortez replied. “We’ll inform you immediately if we hear anything from the Rear Admiral.”

When he got to his quarters, Jonathan saw his steward had already laid out his dress uniform. Heaton had been recommended by his father’s personal steward Fox. Jonathan had grown up with Fox always in the background. He had been like a part of the family, for after his father had started spending more time in the Palace, Fox had moved in and taken over supervising his father’s needs. In a way, Fox had become like a close uncle. Jonathan had immediately accepted his suggestion of taking Heaton on though not because he particularly wanted a steward. Heaton had served several other captains before Jonathan, so he was good at his job, yet Jonathan still felt weird having someone hovering around looking to meet his every need. Growing up and as a naval Lieutenant, he had been responsible for his own clothes and food. Now, he didn’t need to think about either. You’re meant to be devoting your time to serving your crew and your Empire, he knew his father would say if Jonathan were to ask him why he needed a steward.

Moving over to his desk, Jonathan sat and began to add to a letter he had been writing to his mother. He took a few minutes to describe Bastion. Knowing his father would read the letter as well, he included some details about the fleet and his impression of the system’s defenses. As expected, it wasn’t long before his COM unit crackled, and he heard Rutherford’s familiar voice. “Captain, we’ve just received a COM message from the flagship. You’ve been requested to report on board in an hour.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Jonathan replied. “Acknowledge the request and have a shuttle prepped for me.”

Checking his chronometer, Jonathan spent a little while longer working on his letter, and then stood and turned to where his dress uniform was waiting. As soon as he approached it, Heaton appeared from one of the hatches into his quarters. With a smile, he moved to Jonathan’s side and helped him don the dress uniform. “Take some time to yourself and relax while I’m away,” Jonathan suggested when they were done.

“Of course, Captain,” Heaton replied formally.

Jonathan had to resist rolling his eyes. He was certain Heaton would do nothing of the kind. No doubt, his steward would start prepping his evening meal or go through his quarters dusting them, or do something else of that ilk. Leaving him to it, Jonathan casually made his way to Achilles’ main hangar bay. He was in no rush, and so took the time to inspect the sections of his ship he passed through.

As always, he was impressed by how tight a ship Cortez ran. The decks were spotless, and every crew member he encountered looked impeccable. As first officers went, he knew he had hit the jackpot. Having basically been promoted from the position of a third lieutenant straight to Captain, there were many things about running a ship he hadn’t picked up. Thankfully, most of those duties fell to Cortez, and she was already an expert.

Though he was still early when he reached the hangar, Jonathan boarded his shuttle anyway. “Take off, pilot,” he ordered. “Let’s take the scenic route through the fleet.” Taking a seat where he would get a good view, Jonathan stared almost unblinkingly as the shuttle pilot spent the next five minutes moving through Salamanca’s fleet. Row upon row of battlecruisers, battleships and even dreadnoughts greeted his hungry gaze. It was hard to believe that their collective might could be threatened by anyone or anything, yet Jonathan had already seen what a large-scale naval battle looked like first hand. And that was against the Flex-aor, he thought. If a Karacknid battlefleet tried to take on Salamanca’s fleet, he knew many of the dreadnoughts lined up in formation behind Salamanca’s flagship would not survive.

Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists. The threats from the Karacknids and the Flex-aor were deadly serious. He hadn’t seen his official orders yet, but his father had told him where he was ordering Achilles to, the furthest place from danger possible. Calm yourself, Jonathan cautioned as his shuttle finally closed with Hercules, Salamanca’s flagship. He couldn’t afford to show any of his anger to his new commander.

When the shuttle landed and Jonathan descended its access ramp, he snapped to attention when he saw who had come to greet him. They hadn’t met before, but Jonathan recognized him from his file. “Captain Somerville, welcome on board Hercules,” George Smirnov, Hercules’ Captain said as he returned Jonathan’s salute and then held out his hand.

“It is a pleasure to visit such a fine ship,” Jonathan replied. “And to meet you in person. Your reputation precedes you.”

Smirnov shook his head as a wry smile appeared on his lips. “That’s nothing. Only a military exercise. If we ever have to fight for real, it will count for nothing.”

“Even so,” Jonathan replied. “I’m glad you’re on our side.” In the last large-scale military exercises that had been held jointly between Imperial and Varanni Alliance forces, Smirnov had outdone himself by taking on and destroying two Varanni battleships. Twenty years ago, the Varanni’s technological superiority would have made such a feat impossible. Even though both species were much closer to parity now, it was still an impressive feat. Jonathan had watched the recordings from the exercises more than once himself.

“In any case, Rear Admiral Salamanca asked me to escort you to his briefing room. He’s waiting there to speak with you, though I hear you should be able to find your way there on your own?”

Jonathan smiled. “It is good to be back on board. She looks as ship shape as ever.” He had served on board Hercules as a Sub Lieutenant for three years before getting his promotion to Lieutenant. “Though it does feel like a lifetime ago now.”

Smirnov laughed and slapped Jonathan on the back. “War and a command of your own will do that to you. Just wait until you have the crew of an entire dreadnaught to worry about! Come on, let’s get going, we don’t keep Salamanca waiting.”

“Of course not,” Jonathan replied as he followed Smirnov’s gesture and started walking. As they went, Jonathan answered a number of pointed questions about his time commanding Python and the battle of New Delhi. Jonathan was surprised by how much Smirnov already knew. It seemed Hercules’ Captain had read his record thoroughly.

When they got to the Rear Admiral’s briefing room, Smirnov stepped in first and announced Jonathan. “Captain Somerville of Achilles, Admiral.”

Jonathan stepped in and saluted. “Reporting as requested, Admiral.”

“At ease, Captain,” Salamanca said as he stood from his desk and held out a hand. Jonathan crossed the distance between them and shook it. “It’s good to have you joining our fleet. When I heard you were joining the Naval Academy, I feared you might be given too easy a time of it. It seems your father found an interesting way to get around that little problem. And, you proved yourself more than capable to boot. Your record with Python makes for interesting reading. Maybe one day, you’ll get a Dreadnought of your own and be able to match or even better Smirnov’s accomplishments.”

Jonathan glanced at Smirnov, a guilty expression on his face. He wasn’t used to such compliments. “I rather doubt that, Sir.”

Smirnov winked at him, and Salamanca smiled. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess one day we may find out. And until that day, you are the son of the Emperor, so it doesn’t hurt to pay you a few extra compliments here and there.” Jonathan couldn’t help the look of confusion that crossed his face. He was even less used to naval officers openly talking about his father. Salamanca laughed. “Don’t worry, I have spent enough years serving with your father to know he would never tolerate favoritism. You will not be getting any here, Captain. Any compliments we give you are earned.”

Jonathan nodded. “I’m glad to hear it, Admiral,” he said with a little more confidence. “Favoritism is the last thing I wish.”

“Good, good,” Salamanca said as he sat and gestured for Jonathan and Smirnov to do the same. “Then let us discuss your orders. As you know, I am tasked with defending Bastion, keeping my fleet in readiness to support the Conclave species’ defenses, patrolling the frontier of the Karacknid Empire adjacent to our position, and maintaining and supplying the one thousand ships assigned to aid the Conclave Navy under the command of Rear Admiral Walters. In addition to all of this, the Admiralty has expanded our mission brief. We are now to carry out long-range surveys of unexplored space to the south of our position. As a result, additional destroyers and light cruisers equipped with Kalassai dark matter scanners have been assigned to my command, Achilles being one of them.”

Leaning forward, Salamanca activated the holo display built into his desk. A map of space around Bastion showing the Gift, Conclave space, the territory of the recently freed Nanee Empire, The Wilds, and the borders of the Karacknid Empire appeared. South of Bastion, very little was visible. A number of systems where mining operations had been set up were visible, and two systems were also marked that were known to be home to sentient species who hadn’t yet developed shift drives. Jonathan knew contact had been made with each and limited trade was ongoing. Neither species was overly friendly with Humanity or the Conclave species, yet they were centuries away from ever being a threat, if they decided they wished to be so.

“As you can see, very little is known about what lies to our south,” Salamanca continued. “For the last fifteen years, all of our effort has been focused on building up our defenses and exerting a measure of control over The Wilds. With the return of the Flex-aor and the appearance of this mysterious species you encountered, what do they call themselves?”

“The Racumin,” Jonathan answered.

“Yes, the Racumin. With their appearance, the Admiralty wishes all sector fleets to begin long-range patrols into unexplored space. I understand their thinking. If there is one hostile species out there willing to work with the Karacknids and the Flex-aor, then may not there be another? I know we are a very long way from New Delhi and the area of space you encountered the Racumin in, but there may be other threats out there.”

Jonathan thought he was doing his best to keep his thoughts to himself. While he understood the Admiralty’s reasoning, personally, he thought it highly unlikely. Yes, every effort needed to be made to find and locate the Racumin’s systems. But as Salamanca said, New Delhi was over two thousand light years away. Any patrols into unexplored space around Bastion were far more likely to find uninhabited system after uninhabited system.

When Salamanca’s eyes narrowed, Jonathan realized he had failed to keep all of his thoughts from his face. “You don’t think so, Captain?” Salamanca asked, his tone hardening slightly.

“Not exactly,” Jonathan said, sensing he needed to answer honestly. “It’s just, after twenty years of being here, we’ve encountered no sign there are other spacefaring civilizations near enough to threaten us or the Conclave species. We do, however, know about the Karacknids, the Flex-aor and now whoever these Racumin are, I just think our long-range patrol ships might be better served operating against these known threats.”

Salamanca sat back in his chair and smiled. “Well, a Captain is certainly entitled to his own opinions. Maybe one day, if you are sitting in the Admiralty, you can determine policy as you see fit. For now, both you and I are duty-bound to obey those who presently sit there.”

“Of course, Rear Admiral, I am here to carry out my orders, whatever they may be.” Jonathan said quickly.

Salamanca nodded. “Good.” He tapped the holo display again. A section of space south of Bastion began to flash. “Because this is your assigned patrol sector. Once Achilles has taken on the provisions she needs, you are to depart and begin your survey immediately. Your cruise is expected to last six months. The mining outpost in the Rosso system can serve as a refueling point for you. There is no need for your destroyer to come all the way back here. Once your patrol is complete, however, you can return here, and we will see what orders the Admiralty or I have for you next. Do you have any questions?”

Jonathan couldn’t help the sinking feeling he felt. The area of space highlighted was far from Bastion and in the direction where he doubted anything of interest would be discovered in the six-month period. Nevertheless, he knew there was nothing Salamanca nor Smirnov could do about his orders, even if they were inclined to. Jonathan shook his head. “No questions, Admiral. Achilles will survey this area to the best of her capabilities.”

“I expect nothing less from a Captain of your caliber and heritage,” Salamanca said. “If you ask me, this is just the kind of mission you need, Captain. You have been promoted awfully quickly. Some time to develop your abilities is just what is required. So, cheer up, there’s no need to look so gloomy. The Karacknids and the Flex-aor and whoever the Racumin are, will still be waiting for you when you get back.”

“And,” Smirnov added, “you should be thankful you’re not being assigned to system patrol duty here at Bastion. How would you like six months of moving back and forth endlessly across the same patrol route? At least this way, you’re going to get out from under the feet of those annoying flag rank Admirals who like to order junior captains about.”

As Smirnov and Salamanca shared a chuckle, Jonathan couldn’t quite bring himself to join in. He understood what they were saying, but he had been brought up to believe it was his duty to do everything he could to defend the Empire. Patrolling unimportant systems when there was real work to be done felt wrong. No amount of words would convince him otherwise.

When Salamanca finished chuckling, he reached for a datapad and handed it across the table to Jonathan. “Here are your full orders from the Admiralty. You can go through them at your own leisure. Just make sure you let Smirnov know about any requirements Achilles may have. He’ll make sure you get what you need so you can depart within the next couple of days.”

“Of course, Admiral, having just come from Earth, we shouldn’t need too much,” Jonathan said.

“Excellent,” Salamanca replied as he stood. “And that concludes our official business. Would you care to join Smirnov and I for our evening meal? I have instructed my chef to lay out a place for you. As you can imagine, we are eager to hear all about the Battle of New Delhi, and Rear Admiral Davenport’s defeat of the Flex-aor invasion fleet at Plankton. Did you know I served with her on your father’s flagship Drake?”

Jonathan smiled for the first time since entering Salamanca’s briefing room. “I am well aware, Admiral; growing up, my father told us the story of his Gayla campaign more than once. You and Davenport were mentioned often. And, it would be my pleasure to join you both.”

Salamanca returned Jonathan’s smile as he walked around his desk and clapped Jonathan on the shoulder. “Then let us retire and you can tell me just what your father said about me. I hope it was all good.”

“Of course it was, Admiral,” Jonathan assured his superior.

Smirnov chuckled again. “Of course it was,” he echoed. “And if it wasn’t, would you tell us?”

Jonathan’s face reddened as the two senior officers shared a look and grinned at his discomfort. From the clear bond of friendship between the two of them, he guessed they were going to enjoy making him uncomfortable over the next hour. At least it’s better than everyone bowing and tiptoeing around you, he thought to himself as he followed the two officers out of the briefing room and into Salamanca’s quarters.

Chapter 2

From its discovery, the Gift wormhole nexus has been a blessing and a curse upon our Empire. It opened opportunities without which we may never have survived the Karacknid threat, and yet, also brought us into contact with new enemies we would have very much liked to have avoided.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

It was later than Jonathan expected when his shuttle returned him to Achilles; nevertheless, he called a senior staff meeting for just half an hour after his return. To soften the blow of a meeting just as most of his Lieutenants would be finishing their shifts, he had Heaton lay out some of the bottles of wine his mother had picked out for him before he left Earth. Intentionally, Jonathan arrived five minutes late to allow his officers to pour themselves a drink and start to relax. Then, setting a stern look on his face, he walked in.

“We have our orders,” he announced as everyone turned to him. Moving over to his chair at the briefing table, he sat before elaborating. “I’m afraid it’s not what many of you might have been hoping for. We are not going to be patrolling the Karacknid border, nor joining Salamanca’s fleet here defending Bastion or Rear Admiral Walter’s fleet in Conclave space.” Tapping the holo display controls at his fingertips, Jonathan projected the same map Salamanca had shared with him. “We will be carrying out a six-month cruise exploring unexplored space to the southeast of Bastion.”

More than one officer screwed up their face at the announcement. Disappointment was written across all their faces. Cortez said what everyone was thinking. “I’m not usually one to question orders, Captain, but why? What purpose does such a cruise serve?”

Jonathan did his best to keep any emotion from his voice, though he guessed Second Lieutenant Lydia Morrison would be able to see his true feelings. She had served with him since he had joined Resolute as its Third Lieutenant. “After the Flex-aor attack and the appearance of the Racumin, the Admiralty has grown nervous. They are assigning ships to carry out long-range exploration missions all across our borders. It has been decided we have a part to play in this new mission, and so play it we shall.”

Cortez nodded. “Of course we will, Captain, it’s just a little disappointing.” She paused and glanced around at the other Lieutenants, several of whom nodded. “We were expecting to be in the forefront of the action. Especially, after what we accomplished at Plankton.”

“Yes, we proved ourselves, didn’t we?” Schmidt, Achilles’ tactical officer asked. The hint of doubt wasn’t lost on Jonathan. It was hard not to conclude that being assigned to such a boring patrol signaled a lack of confidence in Achilles.

“You did prove yourselves,” Jonathan said firmly. “To the Admiralty, and more importantly to me. Yet, this is a mission someone has to do, and that responsibility has fallen to us. As I said to Rear Admiral Salamanca, Achilles will do her duty.”

“But you’re not exactly happy either, are you, Captain?” Lydia asked.

Jonathan smiled at her. She was trying to cut the tension that had risen between Achilles’ Captain, and her Lieutenants. He hadn’t wanted to appear hostile towards their orders, but she’d given him a way to break the ice. He spoke slowly as he shared a glance with each of his officers. “I wouldn’t say I’m happy,” he admitted. “We all got a taste for combat and victory fighting the Flex-aor. Now, we are being assigned to the back end of nowhere. Yet it has been pointed out to me that we are a relatively new crew and Achilles is all but a brand-new ship. A six-month cruise where we can train and drill together and hone ourselves into the perfect fighting machine may be just what we need to prepare for whatever may be in our futures. So, I intend to make the most of this cruise and work you all as hard as possible. I can certainly assure you of one thing, neither Achilles’ officers nor her crew are going to be bored on this cruise.”

“And maybe it’s not all bad news,” Fifth Lieutenant Scholes said in a lighter mood. “We’re going to be discovering new systems and new habitable worlds. Maybe we’ll each get to name something after ourselves.”

“That’s the spirit,” Cortez said as she slapped Scholes on the shoulder.

“Yes,” Lydia agreed. “Maybe we’ll find some small slimy lizard and name it after our esteemed navigation officer.” Scholes’ cheeks reddened as everyone laughed at him.

“Just for that, I’m going to give Scholes the privilege of naming the first system with a habitable world and naming the first species we discover on it,” Jonathan decided. He turned to Lydia and winked. “You better hope he doesn’t decide to name something after you, Lieutenant.”

As Lydia frowned at him, Jonathan raised a glass of wine to his lips and took a drink around the grin on his face. “If we come across a particularly repugnant fungus, Lydia’s Delight might be a suitable name… Now,” Jonathan said as he quickly moved on before Lydia could defend herself, “to more pressing matters. We know what we are going to be about, but there is much to do before we can depart. We need to take on extra provisions and fuel, and update our star maps with the latest maps Hercules has. We’ll also be taking on board a science officer. Lieutenant Blake Munroe. He served as a Second Lieutenant on board the heavy cruiser Rostov before joining the navy science program and earning his PhD. He’ll be serving as a liaison to aid us in our survey work. Lydia, you will be responsible for getting him settled in.”

Lydia nodded. “What is his specialty?”

“Sensor technologies,” Jonathan answered. “Particularly the Kalassai dark matter sensors. According to Rear Admiral Salamanca, he is quite the innovator. The Admiralty has sent him out here to get some experience putting his theories into practical use.”

“Well, at least someone will enjoy this cruise,” Rutherford commented.

“Indeed,” Jonathan replied.

“What kind of timetable are we talking about, Captain?” Cortez asked.

“Rear Admiral Salamanca would like us to depart within forty-eight hours,” Jonathan answered. More than one facial expression dropped at his words. “Is that doable?”

“I’ll have to check just what extra supplies we’re going to need,” Cortez responded. “But we haven’t used very much of our fuel or supplies during the trip from Earth, so it shouldn’t take long to top up. For such a long cruise, I imagine we’ll have to overstock, but two days, that should probably be doable.”

“Okay, then you may proceed with the work once we are done here… Though,” Jonathan said more slowly, “I wouldn’t rush myself if I were you. If the work was to drag out for an extra day, say, I’m sure Admiral Salamanca wouldn’t be too pleased, but by the time we are back again in six months, he will have long forgotten about it. An extra day would give the crew a fair bit more R&R time to enjoy on Bastion. Seeing as we’re going to be away for six months, I think they might just need it.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but grin himself as most of his officers shared glances and grins with one another. “I understand, Captain,” Cortez said formally. “We will do our best to depart within two days, but I can’t make any guarantees. Three days may be more likely.”

Jonathan nodded. “Very well, I will note your assessment in my logs… Now,” he continued as he lifted his wineglass and took a sip. “Let us finish our glasses before we break and get to work. I hear Scholes and Rutherford fought a simulated destroyer engagement against one another while I was away. How did you both get on?”

*

Achilles, (three days later).

“Take us out of orbit,” Jonathan ordered exactly seventy-six hours after his initial briefing with his command staff. Together, they had dragged out the process of restocking Achilles as long as they could without it starting to look suspicious. On average, Jonathan had managed to give each of his crew just over six hours on Bastion’s surface. He hoped they had used their time to best effect. Now, they were all faced with being cooped up on Achilles for the foreseeable future.

For his part, Jonathan had managed to scrape a couple of hours away from his duties to take a shuttle down to the surface. Deciding to do something out of the ordinary, he had taken a local aircraft out to one of the outlying farms. Initially, he had intended to keep his identity a secret and simply request the owners allow him to briefly tour their facilities. He had been willing to pay for the pleasure. However, when Marine Lieutenant Becca Samuels heard what he intended, she had inserted herself into Jonathan’s plans. The first he had learned of it had been when he had found her sitting in his shuttle as he boarded it. When the two of them arrived at the farm, she in her marine combat armor, it had been impossible to hide who he was.

The couple who owned the farm had dropped everything they had been doing and spent the entire two hours showing him around, bowing and curtseying almost every minute. Despite having his anonymity destroyed, Jonathan had enjoyed the trip and Samuels’ presence hadn’t tarnished it. In fact, on the way back both of them had admitted they had learned a lot, for while experts in their fields, they knew very little about how much of the rest of the Empire functioned. Maybe we’ll get to tour some of the wild and uncultivated areas when we return, Jonathan mused as he watched Bastion begin to shrink on the main holo display.

“We have left Bastion’s orbit,” Scholes reported. “Turning onto a course for the Gamma shift passage.”

“Very well,” Jonathan replied. “Plan out a course to the Rosso system once your maneuver is complete.” Before beginning their exploration cruise, he intended to stop by the orbital mining facility there and inform its operator that Achilles would be using the station to refuel. He wanted to make sure the station kept up enough of a stockpile of He3 to meet Achilles’ needs.

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes acknowledged.

As his eyes drifted past Bastion, they settled on two squadrons of approximately thirty ships each. They were maneuvering against each other in what was clearly a simulated engagement. Jonathan felt a pang of jealousy. Both squadron commanders would be pitting their wits against one another, trying to best the other. With Rear Admiral Salamanca and the rest of the fleet watching, the pressure would be on. Yet, each commander had the chance to prove themselves and earn the respect of their peers. Plus, even the loser would learn some valuable lessons. Even on garrison duty, there are opportunities to develop, Jonathan thought. A slither of guilt ran through him. Both his father and mother had repeatedly warned him of the dangers of pursuing glory and valuing one’s own reputation too much. That path led to self-obsession, a trait a destroyer commander, never mind a potential heir to the Imperial Crown, could not afford. Jonathan knew his family had political opponents, and he also knew just how competent a commander Tanaka-lan was. If he was to face either threat, he couldn’t have any obvious weakness that could be exploited.

And yet, he tired of being given deference simply because of who his parents were. His brief meal with Salamanca and Smirnov had been refreshing, but the tour of the Bastion farm had only reminded him of how most within and without the Navy thought of him. He couldn’t help but feel he needed to prove himself worthy of the respect so many gave him. Yet, he found it hard to imagine how a six months’ exploration cruise could give him the opportunities he craved.

Movement behind Jonathan pulled his glance away from the holo display. Science officer Munroe had just entered the bridge and sat down in his command chair. Jonathan gave himself a mental shake. He had a mission to see to, one that deserved his energy, not navel-gazing at his own problems. “So, Lieutenant Munroe, we are finally off. Once we pass through the Rosso system, we’ll be free to carry out our orders as we best see fit. You are the sensors expert, what line of shift passages do you propose that we explore first?”

“An intriguing question, Captain,” Munroe answered enthusiastically as he sat forward in his command chair. “When I heard of this assignment, I gathered as many exploration reports as I could to read through on the trip to Bastion. I have developed a couple of theories on the layout of shift passages. As we all know, their layout is not entirely random. If you’d like, I could explain what I was hoping we’d be able to test out.”

Though Jonathan wasn’t particularly interested, he was happy for the distraction. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’m keen to hear your thoughts.”

For more than an hour, Munroe brought Jonathan on a winding journey through the current scientific theories on dark matter and its distribution throughout the galaxy. Though Jonathan didn’t understand it all, he actually started to find it interesting.  “We are ready to jump out of the system, Captain,” Scholes reported, pulling Jonathan out of the discussion he, Munroe and several other officers had gotten into.

“Then jump us out, Lieutenant, let us begin our mission,” Jonathan said as confidently as possible. He had to resist the urge to take one final glance towards the two squadrons of Imperial warships that were still battling each other. Instead, he glanced around at his officers. He found his First and Second Lieutenants staring at him.

“It may not be the Wilds, but it is still an adventure into the unknown,” Cortez said.

“And remember your father’s first command, Captain. The exploration frigate Drake, wasn’t it?” Lydia asked, though Jonathan was certain she knew the answer. “I’m sure he thought that was going to be a boring assignment. Who knows, maybe we’ll have the same luck and get into the kind of pickle he found himself in. Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

Jonathan shook his head wryly at Lydia’s words. He was sure interesting would not be the word his father might choose to describe his first command. Yet, as Jonathan thought about it, Lydia’s words gave him pause for thought. Maybe he wasn’t using his imagination enough, who knew what was really out there waiting for them? As a tremor ran through Achilles, signaling she had jumped into shift space, Jonathan’s mood started to brighten for the first time in several weeks.

Chapter 3

Hunting for an enemy in space is not like hunting on Earth or any other terrestrial body. In space, the places to hide are almost infinite. If an enemy does not want to be found and has the means to survive away from their fleet bases, making contact with them requires something only a little less than a miracle.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

X-36, IS Matilda, 17th May 2509 AD, (two weeks later).

Vice Admiral Emilie Alveraz sat in the command chair of her flagship as she watched her final reinforcements arrive in system. Casting an experienced eye over the various squadrons, she nodded in approval. The bulk of the new ships had come from Vestar under the command of Rear Admiral Jor’lal Tak’ar. Though Tak’ar was the son of the leader of the Vestarian people, Emilie knew he had attained his position through merit. He had been a First Lieutenant in Admiral Jil’lal’s fleet that had accompanied her uncle’s fleet on the Gayla campaign. Since then, he had slowly risen to his present rank.

“They are drilled well,” Adrian Rodgers, Emilie’s Flag Captain commented. “Tak’ar knows his stuff, apart from their looks, you couldn’t tell the Vestarian ships from the Imperial ones.”

“They do know what they are about,” Emilie agreed. Alongside the eight hundred Vestarian ships, an additional five hundred Imperial ships were joining her command. Vestarian ships were built with the same technology as Imperial ones, yet along slightly different designs. Nevertheless, apart from their outward appearance, both groups of ships were being handled with the same expertise. “It will take Tak’ar’s fleet at least twenty-four hours to top up their fuel, but there’s no reason our advanced squadrons cannot proceed immediately. Send word for them to break orbit and begin their deployments.” She finally had the forces she required to begin her hunt, and she was keen to get going.

“At once, Admiral,” Emilie’s Chief of Staff, Janine Roche responded.

“Send a message to Tak’ar, request a status update on his fleet so that our fuel ships can make their preparations. And inform him I wish to hold a conference with my senior commanders once he reaches orbit. Let the others know as well.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Lieutenant Brzezinski said from his position at the COMs console.

As her orders went out, a flurry of activity broke out amongst the five thousand ships in orbit around the orbital fort. Still designated X-36, it had never been renamed after being taken from the Flex-aor in the first Flex-aor war. The first ships to depart were squadrons of frigates, destroyers, and light cruisers. In groups of between ten and twenty, five hundred ships accelerated away towards the two shift passages that led further south. Each squadron’s mission was to rendezvous with one of the forward operating bases Emilie’s advanced forces had set up and begin searching for the Flex-aor fleet. Behind them, three larger forces of fifty warships and nearly as many freighters followed. They were going to set up the next three FOBs. The system was far from ideal. Even before she had left, Emilie felt nervous about bringing such a large fleet so far from Imperial or Vestarian space. Once out along the outer edges of the FOBs, her ships would be more than two months from the nearest fleet base.

Yet, that was only the beginning, from the FOBs her ships would be ranging much further out into unexplored space as they searched for where the Flex-aor fleet had fled. According to her uncle, High Queen Ala’ron had over ten thousand warships. Just as concerning, she also had more than a hundred massive tender ships that served as mobile construction and repair yards. With all the soldier and worker drones the Flex-aor fleet had lifted off Hiva’non, Ala’ron probably had the personnel to create another ten thousand. Emilie’s mission was to locate and destroy the tender ships before such a force could be constructed. If she could, she also intended to crush the Flex-aor fleet before it could threaten another Human world.

The problem was, Ala’ron had clearly built her fleet to operate without fixed bases. Emilie’s larger capital ships were not designed for such missions. That was why alongside the four thousand warships that remained in orbit with Matilda, there were nearly half that number of supply freighters that would be going with her fleet. Almost as many again were still on their way to X-36 in several squadrons that would follow her fleet’s advance. It was a logistical nightmare, yet Rear Admiral Andrea Clements, head of the Navy’s Logistical Division assured her it was doable. To reinforce the fact, she had sent Emilie one of her protégés to serve as Emilie’s logistical officer. Emilie didn’t envy Lieutenant Sharma or Clements their jobs.

Still watching her scouting squadrons leave, Emilie’s gaze focused in on one ship. The pocket carrier Archimedes was a small and insignificant part of her fleet. Designed to be home to just one squadron of Hellcat fighters, she wouldn’t have noticed it except for who she knew was aboard. After her successes in the Battle of New Delhi and Plankton, Georgia had been promoted to the rank of Flight Captain and posted to Starling squadron. Be safe, Emilie thought towards her cousin as she joined the ships heading out to search for the Flex-aor. When her reinforcements and Tak’ar’s fleet came closer and began to slot into orbit around the fortified world, Emilie returned to examining them. She gave Tak’ar ten minutes to settle his fleet in and begin the refueling process. “All right, inform the fleet’s senior officers we will convene in five minutes,” Emilie said as she stood. “Rodgers, Roche, you both can join me in my briefing room.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Roche said as she gestured to Brzezinski to transmit the COM request.

Emilie took one last look at her fleet, and then walked out of Matilda’s bridge. Her personal briefing room was adjacent to the bridge and her quarters, and so it only took a few steps to enter it. When the hatch retracted and she stepped in, she wasn’t surprised to see her steward had already set out refreshments. Taking a seat, she enjoyed a drink and nibbled on a few hors d’ouevres as she waited for Rodgers and then Roche to enter and take their seats. Roche immediately activated the holo display. Over the next couple of minutes, the faces of her senior commanders began to appear. Tak’ar was the last, but Emilie spoke to him first. “Welcome to the fleet, Rear Admiral Tak’ar, you and your ships are most welcome.”

“We are happy to be here,” Tak’ar responded. “The Flex-aor are as likely to attack our worlds as yours if they plan to threaten your entire south-eastern border. And even if we were not in danger, we would be here. Our two species are brothers in arms.”

“Well, we are pleased to have you with us. You should also be commended on your timely arrival,” Emilie said.

Tak’ar bowed his head. “Thank you. Though I admit your Rear Admiral Clements deserves most of the praise. Her timetable for our movement through your space to X-36 was very precise.”

Emilie chuckled as more than one of her other officers cracked a smile. “She is known for her precision. I expect that meant she has your ships well-provisioned?”

Tak’ar nodded. “My Chief of Staff estimates we should be resupplied within twenty-four hours.”

“Excellent,” Emilie replied. “My uncle and Admiral Jil’lal fought well together. I still miss her, as I know Emperor Somerville does. I hope we will be able to forge the same friendship and bring the same destruction upon our enemies.”

“Those are my hopes as well, Vice Admiral,” Tak’ar said as he raised his four hands in a gesture Emilie knew was a sign of sadness. “I grew up looking up to Jil’lal as an older sister. I hope to live up to the standards she set for the Vestarian fleet.”

“From what I’ve seen, I’m sure she would not be disappointed,” Emilie replied. Giving Tak’ar a nod, she turned to the other new face to her senior commanders’ meeting. “And Rear Admiral Bai, your ships are a welcome addition too, of course. As are you.” She and Bai knew each other well. He had served as her Flag Captain ten years ago when she had commanded the Imperial fleet assigned to the Beta Fort system.

Bai gave Emilie a salute. “It is good to see you too, Vice Admiral. Like Rear Admiral Tak’ar’s fleet, we should be ready to depart within twenty-four hours. Emperor Somerville asked me to pass on his respects to you personally.”

“I will tell him you did in my next letter. Tell me, how are things on Earth?”

“We didn’t stay too long,” Bai answered. “Just long enough to re-fuel after our journey from Beta Fort. But, things looked busy. The orbital construction yards were working flat out, and a constant stream of freighters were coming and going. Huge amounts of fuel, munitions and supplies are being transferred from the northern forts through the Sol system to your and Admiral Becket’s fleets.”

“I’m sure they are,” Emilie replied. Alongside the two and a half thousand Imperial warships in Emilie’s fleet, Admiral Becket had another six thousand defending the Empire’s south-eastern borders. None of the fleet bases Becket was using had been designed for so many ships, and so the massive redeployment of the Empire’s fleet was putting a strain on the supply chains. “And my uncle?”

“We didn’t get to chat face to face,” Bai said. “But he looked well on the holo display. From the other officers I spoke to at the Admiralty, it seems he is working long hours. There is much going on these days.”

Emilie nodded. Of that, she had no doubt. Redeploying so many thousands of ships was a logistical nightmare in and of itself. Doing so just after a failed secession attempt and having to deal with all the normal military and political problems James and Christine had to face as Emperor and Empress, Emilie didn’t know how they found the time of day to do it all. But I can wonder about that another day, Emilie told herself.

Clasping her hands together, she turned her mind to the matters at hand. “Well, now that I have welcomed our two newcomers, let me do the introductions. Then, we can get down to business. Tak’ar, Bai, meet Rear Admiral Armitage, Commodores McBurney, Spires, and Crory, my Flag Captain Rodgers, my Chief of Staff Roche, and commanding the Varanni squadrons, Rear Admiral Far’manlan and Commodore Crasins.”

Emilie paused as all of the commanders said hello to one another. When they were finished, she continued. “So, now that that we are all here, we will depart as soon as we are ready, hopefully within the next twenty-four hours. Already, I have dispatched our advanced scouting squadrons and additional FOB squadrons.” Activating the holo display in her briefing room, Emilie projected a star map of X-36, the Flex-aor homeworlds, and space to the south and east. Twelve systems beyond the Flex-aor homeworlds were flashing. “These are the positions of our FOBs. We will initially be proceeding to FOB Three to resupply and check-in with our scouting squadrons. Then, we will determine what direction the fleet will take thereafter. We will not be going wildly hunting for the Flex-aor without support. Rather, we will all position at FOB Three or one of the other FOBs and await developments from our scouting squadrons. If and when any Flex-aor forces are detected, I want us to be in the best position to move to intercept them. It’s likely they feel themselves safe so far from our borders. If so, that will prove to be a mistake. Are there any questions?”

All eyes turned to Tak’ar and Bai, for the rest of Emilie’s senior commanders were intimately familiar with her plans, having put them together with her. Bai spoke first. “We will be putting ourselves in no little danger. Operating so far from X-36 will leave us in a precarious position fuel-wise, and even with all the ships we have gathered here, we know the Flex-aor have more. If we are drawn into a running battle, we could run out of munitions or fuel.”

Emilie nodded. “Those are real risks. Yet, if needs be, we can simply fall back along our line of FOBs. I have no intention of fighting against a numerically superior Flex-aor fleet. And even if they do force us into a running battle, it means their warships will be attacking us and not any of our colonies. That in itself will be a success.”

“Granted,” Bai replied. “Still, our supply situation will be delicate, even if everything goes our way.”

“Which is why we may have to split our forces,” Rear Admiral Armitage, Emilie’s second-in-command said. “Our fleet will be split into three sections, commanded by Vice Admiral Alvarez, myself, and Rear Admiral Far’manlan. If needs be, we should be able to operate separately. This will put significantly less strain on our FOBs.”

“In which case, we better hope one of us doesn’t run into eight thousand Flex-aor warships,” Tak’ar said.

“Indeed,” Emilie agreed. “Though if we do, unless we allow ourselves to be surrounded, we should be able to fall back and send word to the other sections of our fleet. In such an event, we will all fall back until we can combine to fight together.”

“And Admiral Becket should be expanding her own FOBs towards our eastern ones, so we may be able to fall back towards her or request reinforcements from her position,” Roche added.

“Though Admiral Becket’s primary responsibility is the defense of our borders,” Emilie emphasized. “The responsibility for hunting the Flex-aor down has fallen to us, so we cannot rely on her aid. Though, if possible, we will certainly welcome it. In any case, that is the general outline of our plan. Before we leave X-36, we will begin to carry out some simulated strategic and tactical exercises. I have a number of scenarios I wish to see how we would respond to. As we travel through each system on our way to FOB Three, we will be running as many simulations as we can. We need to forge our fleet into one fighting unit. Before then, however, we must each understand one another and every detail of our overall operation. I have asked Commander Roche to prepare a detailed briefing. I know for most of you, this will be old news, yet we must all be of one mind. Once Roche is finished, we will open the floor to discussion. If any of you have any additional tweaks we can make to our operating procedure, now is the last time to voice them.”

With a nod towards Roche, Emilie instructed her Chief of Staff to take over the briefing. Sitting back in her command chair, she listened as Roche went through her plan with a fine-tooth comb. Then, as her other officers began to discuss various tactics and ideas, she forced herself to remain quiet. It was something she had learned from her uncle decades ago. As much as possible, she wanted her subordinates to feel like the plan was as much theirs as her’s. They know what they’re about, she thought as he listened to her officers. Most of them had seen action in the Karacknid War, and so while the general crew of her fleet were combat virgins, her command staff were not. The Flex-aor are going to rue the day they decided to return, Emilie decided as her briefing continued.

*

IS Matilda, (twenty-eight hours later).

“Our squadrons report ready to depart, Admiral,” Roche updated Emilie.

“Then let’s be on our way,” Emilie said as she flashed her Chief of Staff a confident smile. Moments later, Matilda’s engines roared to life as did the engines of more than six thousand other warships and freighters. In their squadrons, they broke orbit and set course for the shift passage to FOB Three.

A number of emotions ran through Emilie. This was the first time she had really taken a fleet into combat since the Karacknid War. The brief skirmish with Ala’ron’s forces at Hiva’non hadn’t counted, for there, her uncle had been with her. This time, the buck truly stopped with her. It was exciting and anxiety-inducing at the same time. After so many years without combat, she was keen to test her skills. Yet her fleet was by far the largest force she had ever commanded. And the stakes were as high as they could get, for if a Flex-aor fleet slipped past her or managed to defeat her ships, then Human worlds would disappear in nuclear firestorms.

For a brief second, Emilie almost let her nerves get the best of her. Then, she pictured what her uncle would be feeling in her shoes. Mentally, she nodded to herself. “Well,” she said loud enough for all of Matilda’s bridge officers to hear and as confident a tone as she could project. “We’re on our way. Let us hunt some Flex-aor!”

Chapter 4

Throughout the Empire’s history there have been many first contacts. Some have gone well, others not. Often initial meetings do not determine the Empire’s long-term relationship with a new species, yet there are times where those first few hours define what will happen for centuries to come.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, 16th June 2509 AD, (four weeks later).

“Captain, look at these comets, they are interesting, are they not?” First Lieutenant Cortez asked as she directed Jonathan’s gaze to a secondary holo display.

Jonathan looked up from the report he had been casually glancing through. When he saw the comets, he grasped what had brought Cortez’s attention. Six large chunks of ice and rock had just passed close to the system’s fifth planet. The planet’s gravity had sucked them in and pushed them out on a new trajectory, one that would take them relatively close to Achilles. To encounter a cluster of comets was very rare. It looked like they had once formed a single much larger one that had broken apart. “Yes,” Jonathan said as he gave his First Lieutenant a nod. “I think that will do nicely. You may make the preparations.”

Cortez gave Jonathan a quick grin and then turned and began to give orders to Achilles’ other bridge officers. Ordinarily, Jonathan wouldn’t have been too interested in the comets. The standard simulated battles and live fire drills an Imperial destroyer was expected to regularly carry out were usually enough to keep a crew occupied. But I’ll take anything to break the monotony at this point, Jonathan thought. He had directed Cortez and Lydia to be on the lookout for anything that could give his crew a challenge. The comets were the first opportunity they had come across.

For five weeks now, Achilles had been exploring space out beyond the Rosso mining station. Thanks to science officer Munroe’s astute guesses, they had discovered six new systems. Yet, none had been worth writing home about. They hadn’t encountered any habitable worlds, He3-rich gas giants, or planets or asteroids with large deposits of valstronium or other rare elements. James knew if the boredom was getting to him, it was certainly getting to Achilles’ crew. “Let’s fire a standard thermonuclear warhead into the midst of those comets,” Jonathan said as he decided to make the exercise more challenging. “I want every chunk with a diameter larger than ten meters to be blown to bits. The gunnery team with the highest hit count will get a triple ration allocation. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like something the gunnery teams will get on board with,” Lieutenant Schmidt said from his tactical console. “Maybe I could take command of one of the heavy plasma cannons and have a chance at winning those extra rations?”

Jonathan chuckled as he shook his head. “Not today. The last thing we need are our gunnery crews accusing an officer of stealing their rations.”

Schmidt grimaced, but then broke into a smile as he glanced at the other bridge officers. “Maybe next time, Captain, we could have a competition between the senior officers. “

“Then you’ll all be accusing me of stealing your extra rations,” Jonathan said as he winked at Lydia.

“I’ve seen him operate a cruiser’s heavy plasma cannons,” Lydia commented, “I have no desire to compete with the Captain.” Schmidt eyed Lydia and then Jonathan, clearly trying to decide if they were joking or not. After a few seconds, he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his console.

“How are we getting on?” Jonathan asked Cortez.

“We’re almost ready, Captain,” she replied. “We make a course change in three minutes and then the comets will be just fifteen minutes out. The crews are moving to their stations. When do you want to fire the missile?”

“Let’s wait to the last second,” Jonathan ordered. “And don’t inform the crews we’re going to fire one. That can be a little surprise for them.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cortez said enthusiastically.

Turning back to his report, Jonathan continued to idly read through it as Achilles changed course towards the comets. “We are just three minutes out of maximum energy weapon range,” Lydia reported a short time later.

“Permission to fire our missile, Captain?” Schmidt asked as Jonathan set his datapad down.

Jonathan eyed the comets. No doubt the gunnery crews had been tracking the comets closely. Interspaced between the six large ones were more than a hundred smaller chunks. Each and every one of them would be plotted and firing solutions already prepared. “Okay, time to throw the cat among the pigeons,” he said to Schmidt.

With a touch of a button, Schmidt sent a single thermonuclear warhead missile towards the comets. It took sixty seconds to reach the comets. It’s detonation ripped four of the larger comets apart, sending hundreds of large chunks in every direction. Suddenly, the gunnery crews’ task had become far harder.

As soon as Achilles’ heavy energy weapons came into range, they began to open fire. Heavy plasma and laser cannons released gigajoules of energy. First, the two remaining comets were struck again and again until they broke apart. Then, hundreds of plasma bolts and laser beams sought out the smaller chunks. Over the course of three minutes, Jonathan watched explosion after explosion vaporize the rock and ice. Only when Achilles’ sensors couldn’t detect a single piece of comet larger than ten cubic meters did the energy weapons cease firing. On a secondary holo display, a running count had been keeping track of each gunnery crew’s hits.

“It looks like gunnery crew three have won the day,” Cortez said. “They won by eleven targets,” she added as her eyebrows rose. “Impressive.”

Jonathan agreed, though he was more focused on the bottom four gunnery crews’ results. Each of them were more than sixty behind the winning crew. That was quite a margin. “Send my congratulations to gunnery crew three, and inform them I hope they enjoy their extra rations. Let the four lowest scoring gunnery crews know that I that expect a significant improvement the next time we run a live fire drill. Assign them extra simulation sessions over the next two weeks.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Cortez acknowledged.

“Captain,” Lydia said in a very different tone to Achilles’ First Lieutenant, making Jonathan turn around towards her. “I think our sensors are picking up a ship.”

“Show me,” Jonathan said at once. Immediately, the main holo display changed from showing the remnants of the comets to a sector of the system much further away from Achilles.

“It’s moving very slowly,” Lydia explained. “But it is definitely not natural. There has been a small course change. Though we didn’t detect any gravimetric waves. It’s too far away for our passives to get a good read, but some stray emissions from our active sensors washed over it when we were tracking the comets.”

“You think it is a ship in stealth, trying to hide from us?” Jonathan asked, his excitement and curiosity rising together. An unknown contact was a far better break to the monotony of the past weeks than shooting up a comet.

“It may well be,” Lydia said as she tapped on her command console. On the holo display, a projected course appeared in front of the contact. It took the ship, if it was a ship, out to the edge of the system. “If there is a shift passage there, then it may be trying to get there before we detect it and jump out.”

“And bring news of our presence to whatever civilization the ship belongs to,” Jonathan mused. “What do you make of it from the little sensor returns we have received so far?”

Lydia shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Very little, except to say, its stealth tech can’t be overly impressive. It was only a few stray emissions that reached the contact, and we still got a return. Of course, without the Kulrean sensor tech we now have, twenty years ago, we might never have picked it up.”

Jonathan nodded as he thought through the limited data they had. They hadn’t exactly been trying to sneak through the system even before they had opened fire on the comets. The contact had to have seen them. That it was moving so slow either meant it couldn’t go any faster, or that it was intentionally trying to stay hidden. Achilles was currently moving towards the center of the system where Lieutenant Munroe would deploy the Kalassai dark matter sensor to check the entire system for potential shift passages. If he deviated from his course now, the contact would know it had been spotted.

Yet, if he didn’t, it could get away. But we know where it is going, he mused. So even if it escapes from the next system before we get there, we will have the beginnings of a trail to follow! For the first time since leaving Bastion, Jonathan actually felt his mission could end up being worthwhile. “We continue as normal,” he decided, “I don’t want to spook them. Let’s find another comet or something to target and accidentally send a few more stray sensor emissions their way to see if we can get a better fix on them. And we’ll hold off on deploying the dark matter sensor. They may not know we have such a device, so we won’t use it until we are sure they have jumped out.”

“Here’s a good candidate,” Schmidt suggested as he altered the view on a secondary holo display. “There is a small group of asteroids not far from us. It looks like they escaped from the fourth planet’s ring a few thousand years ago, and have been in a wide orbit ever since.”

“Perfect,” Jonathan said. “Change course to intercept. Inform our four worst performing gunnery crews their extra training sessions begin immediately. And let’s be a little sloppier with our sensor emissions.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cortez acknowledged.

Over the next hour, Jonathan watched the contact as it continued towards the edge of the system. Schmidt found two more targets to engage, ensuring the contact only blinked off from Achilles’ sensors for a few short durations. When the contact crossed the point where Achilles could have jumped out and didn’t, it confirmed Jonathan’s suspicions that the ship wasn’t as capable as his destroyer. That was good. It hopefully meant that whoever they were, they weren’t going to be a new threat Rear Admiral Salamanca, or his father, would have to start to worry about.

“The contact is gone again,” Lydia reported twenty minutes later. “I think it has jumped this time. We still have a few emissions that should be getting returns.”

“Let’s wait a minute,” Jonathan said, wanting to be extra cautious. Slowly, he counted down to himself. The contact did not return. “Ok, change course, take us right to where they disappeared, maximum thrust. Lieutenant Munroe, prepare to deploy the dark matter sensor.”

“Yes, Captain,” Munroe said as Lieutenant Scholes began to turn Achilles’ nose around towards where the contact had disappeared. Moments later, Munroe changed the main holo display to show the readout from the dark matter sensor. “Activating the sensor now,” Munroe announced. From the center of the read-out, where Achilles was, a small sphere appeared. Quickly, it began to expand as a wave of exotic particles was released from Achilles. It spread out, covering the system they were in in seconds, then it kept going. As it passed beyond the edges of the system, it began to pick up dark matter. Everything it detected was mapped, and soon pockets devoid of dark matter began to appear.

The first time Jonathan had seen the sensor at work, he had been impressed. Now, he was used to it. That didn’t stop him moving forward in his seat slightly. A passage through the dark matter was indeed appearing right where the contact had disappeared. A smile spread across Jonathan’s lips. There was no doubt in his mind now, the contact had been a ship, which meant it was owned by a civilization the Empire hadn’t met. And we know where it is going. With luck, he might just be about to make first contact with a new species!

“Prepare to jump us into shift space as soon as we pass the system’s mass shadow,” he ordered. “That ship has a head start on us, and we’ll have to stop several times to continue to map out the shift passage, but if we can, we’re going to try and catch it.” Every officer around Jonathan met his words with a smile. They were as excited as he was.

*

As it turned out, there was no need for Jonathan to rush. Four days later, when he ordered Achilles to stealthy slip into the system where the shift passage ended, it quickly became apparent the contact would not be able to give them the slip. At least, it wouldn’t be able to hide the location of its species homeworld from Jonathan.

“It’s impressive,” Schmidt couldn’t help but say. “At least, their gas mining facilities would come close to rivalling anything we have built.”

“They certainly would,” Jonathan agreed.

“And yet, their orbitals look sparse,” Cortez commented. “More like what Earth did three or even four hundred years ago.”

“Which makes their gas mining and storage orbitals all the stranger,” Jonathan replied. “There is a mystery here. I want as detailed a survey of the system as our passive sensors will allow. Lieutenant Rutherford, begin collecting and translating every COM message we can pick up from the planet. Let’s see what we can find out about our new neighbors.”

Jonathan gave his officers a couple of hours to sift through all the data Achilles’ passive and COM sensors were picking up. He passed the time watching the movements of the various ships within the system. Achilles was tracking over a hundred of them. Compared to what he was used to seeing in an Imperial system, one hundred wasn’t very many. Even so, most seemed to be ore freighters moving back and forth from several asteroid mining facilities and the species’ homeworld. Whoever they were, they seemed to be making good use of the rare element deposits their system had been blessed with. “All right,” Jonathan said when he figured he had given his people enough time. “Let’s hear it, what have you all got? Rutherford, let’s start with you.”

“Right, yes, Captain,” Rutherford replied. “I believe they call themselves the Bar’samins. At least that is what the Kulrean translation tech seems to think. There are copious amounts of unencrypted transmissions coming from the surface. The vast majority are likely of little interest. The ship’s computer is still compiling much of it. What we have found is interesting. They seem to be ruled by a single government. A democracy, actually. At least, they have representatives leading their government, though how exactly they are elected or how long they serve for, I don’t know yet.” He paused for a brief second.

“More interestingly, I think they haven’t long discovered the shift drive. They have several news reports that speak of exploration ships they have dispatched to try and find shift passages to the nearest stars.”

“That is interesting,” Jonathan replied. “So the contact we detected might have been one of those. Maybe it didn’t know about any of the other shift passages in the system we encountered it in.” As he spoke, Jonathan eyed the sole contact that was travelling from the mouth of the shift passages Achilles was in towards the alien’s world. If it was just an exploration ship, that would explain its slow speed and limited stealth tech. “What is their homeworld called?” he asked as his eyes drifted to the world.

“Ulan’nagn,” Rutherford answered. “We have figured out the names they use for all the planetary bodies in the system, do you want them?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

“Is there any sign they have encountered other species?” Cortez asked.

“Yes, that is the most interesting information we have found. They know of at least one. The Bar’samins simply refer to them as the enemy. At first, I thought the name was just coming from a mythical tale or some modern holo story, but it comes up too many times for that. This enemy is mentioned over and over again, as well as the defensive fleet the Bar’samins are building to protect themselves. It sounds almost as if they fear being bombarded from orbit by whoever is threatening them.”

Jonathan shared a glance with Cortez. If there was another hostile race out there, their lives were about to get even more exciting. The Bar’samins being under threat might also make first contact a little easier. It was very likely the Bar’samins would be keen to make friends with another powerful race who could help them. “It sounds like they might be happy to meet us,” Jonathan commented.

“They might,” Rutherford agreed. “Though I think they may have already met another race. It hasn’t come up as often, but three or four times in the encrypted data we have been able to decrypt, another alien race is mentioned. They are not named either, but they are referred to as the Saviors. It sounds like this race has promised to protect them from the enemy.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “So, we may have just discovered three new species.”

Rutherford nodded. “It appears that way, Captain.”

“Three species in quite the diplomatic stand-off,” Cortez commented. “We could be walking into a powder keg.”

“Yes, not ideal at all. But we are here, so we will have to make the best of it. Lydia, what have the passive sensors told us?” Jonathan asked as he turned to his Second Lieutenant.

“Not too much, Captain,” Lydia responded. “Obviously, without active sensors, we can’t see too much, but what Rutherford just shared has maybe answered a question I had. I have estimated their tech level to be around where we were three hundred years ago, at least judging by the orbital industry and ships we have got a decent look at. That would fit with Rutherford’s report that they have just recently discovered the shift drive.

“What is strange, as you pointed out, are all the gas storage facilities. Their mining capacity and storage facilities are way too built up for what they need. Either they have some massive power generators on their planet’s surface that are guzzling He3, or they are mining more than they require. But if there is another species in the picture, these Saviors, then maybe the fuel is meant for them. I estimate they are storing enough fuel for all of Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet to pass by here and restock their tanks.”

“So whoever they are, these Saviors need a lot of fuel,” Jonathan said.

“Or, they have a lot of ships,” Cortez added.

Jonathan nodded. “That is a more worrying prospect. These Saviors may be a lot more powerful than the Bar’samins, which means whoever the enemy is, they may be too. Nothing else of note you have picked up in the system, Lydia?”

Lydia shook her head, “Nothing really. There do seem to be a number of objects in orbit that we can’t get a good read on. They may be freighters undergoing light repairs, or old orbital stations no longer in use. We’re not getting any real energy readings from them.”

“Eh, maybe we are now,” Schmidt said as he raised a hand and pointed at the main holo display. “Look.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the display. More than eighty new contacts had suddenly appeared. The passive sensors were having no trouble picking them up, they were breaking orbit fast, giving off high levels of energy.

Lydia’s hands flew over her console’s controls. “Warships,” she said moments later, her voice rising. “They have to be. They are too small to be freighters and those power levels…”

“You are right,” Jonathan agreed. “But let’s not get too concerned. Remember their limited stealth tech.”

“Yes, of course,” Lydia said a little more calmly. “If those were Imperial ships, I’d say they had to be dreadnaughts. But if they have no stealth tech, they might just be destroyers or light cruisers.”

“Look at where the contact we spotted in the last system is. They have just reached two-way communication range with the Bar’samins’ homeworld,” Cortez pointed out. “That has to explain their fleet going active.”

“I’m sure it does,” Jonathan said as he grimaced. “Their ship has just seen Achilles carryout live fire drills, blasting hundreds of targets. And we did it right in their backyard. That would make anyone nervous. Maybe they’re thinking we work for this enemy.”

“That’s not going to help first contact go smoothly,” Cortez said as she shook her head.

“No,” James agreed. “But there is nothing for it but to make ourselves known. We’re not going to learn much more by sitting around here. Take us towards their planet, one quarter thrust. We may as well let them know we are here, and that we mean them no harm.”

Chapter 5

Accepting the Vestarians and their planets into the Empire was a significant event in our history. Yet given how integrated our two societies and navies had become, it was a relatively straightforward process. The species that would come after the Vestarians were another matter.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, Ulan’nagn system, 21st June 2509 AD.

“Open a system-wide COM channel,” Jonathan requested moments after Achilles’ engines began to move the destroyer towards Ulan’nagn. When Rutherford nodded to let him know it was open, Jonathan took a moment to compose himself. During the four-day journey through shift space to the Bar’samins’ home system, there had been plenty of time to consider what he might say if in fact the contact they had been pursuing was going to lead to a first contact situation. Yet, now that it was before him, things were very different than he had expected. The Bar’samin weren’t just some isolated species that didn’t know about other spacefaring civilizations, they already had friends and enemies. And a war fleet, he reminded himself. He needed to tread carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan began to speak. “My name is Captain Somerville of the Human Imperial ship Achilles. My ship is both a warship and an exploration ship. Four days ago, while exploring the nearby system and carrying out military drills, we detected one of your ships and followed it here where we have just learned of the Bar’samin people’s existence. Seeking out new systems and new species is why I and Achilles are in this sector of the galaxy. I therefore wish to bring greetings from the Human Empire and extend an offer to meet with your civilization’s leaders and formally introduce myself and my species to yours. I also want to assure you that despite Achilles being a warship, neither I nor my species mean your people any harm.

“We are a peace-loving people who have made friends with many of the alien civilizations who are our neighbors. My species’ diplomats have a pre-prepared data file that gives an overview of the Human Empire and our recent history. We’ll begin transmitting that to you now. It has already been translated into your language. I eagerly await your response. Captain Somerville at your service.”

As he finished speaking, Jonathan bowed low even as he sat in his command chair. Among most of the species Humanity had met, a bow was generally recognized as a sign of respect. Straightening himself, Jonathan glanced at Rutherford signaling him to end the COM channel.

“Now what?” Lydia asked.

“Now we wait and see, I guess,” Cortez answered. Jonathan nodded to show his agreement. He suspected they wouldn’t have to wait long, for though it would take nearly half an hour his message to reach Ulan’nagn, the gravimetric waves given off by Achilles’ engines would be detected immediately.

“The Bar’samin fleet is altering their heading!” Schmidt called out before Jonathan even finished his thought. “There are turning onto a direct intercept course. They are increasing their acceleration rates, too.”

“Slow our acceleration by twenty-five percent,” Jonathan decided. “Let’s show them we’re not trying to get to close to their homeworld without permission.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Scholes responded.

Over the next half an hour, Achilles and the Bar’samin fleet continued towards one another as Jonathan’s message crossed the system. At the same time it reached the fleet of warships, Achilles was bathed in active sensor emissions. It seemed every Bar’samin ship had powered up their active sensors and directed them at the Imperial destroyer.

“They’re certainly taking a good look at us,” Cortez said. “Maybe we should power up our active sensors?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Let’s not do anything that might appear threatening.” He glanced at Lydia, “I’m sure our passives are getting more than enough information now that those warships are on the move and have their systems at full power.”

“We sure are,” Lydia said. “It looks like they’re still using fission reactors. There has to be some pretty big reactors powering ships that size. It looks like their largest ships are roughly the size of a medium cruiser. If they are moving at their best acceleration rates, I’d say they have about half the thrust potential Achilles does. We’re getting our first visuals, too,” Lydia added. She tapped her command console and the image of the Bar’samin fleet zoomed in. Missile ports and some kind of energy cannons were very clearly visible. “They’re definitely warships.”

“That they are,” Jonathan agreed as he counted the ports on the starboard side of the cruiser sized ship. There were only nine, where an Imperial cruiser typically had sixteen. Still, he didn’t want to underestimate the Bar’samins. If they had good ECM or better than expected targeting software on their missiles, eight could still be a threat to his command. And together, they fire a lot more than eight, Jonathan thought as the image widened to show the full Bar’samin fleet again.

Turning, Jonathan glanced at Rutherford and raised an eyebrow. His COM officer shook his head. “No messages yet, Captain.”

Jonathan nodded and settled back into his command chair. It would likely take the Bar’samin some time to process his message and all the information that had been transmitted. Though, he had hoped he might have at least received a greeting from whoever commanded the war fleet or from someone from Ulan’nagn’s surface.

Five minutes passed before Rutherford suddenly looked up from his command console. “We have a message now. It’s audio and visual, transferring it to the main display.”

Having seen images of the Bar’samin Rutherford had already intercepted, Jonathan managed not to grimace when the holo display was suddenly filled with one. Surprisingly, the Bar’samin didn’t look to dissimilar from Humans. Yet, that was where the strangeness came from. With large hairy ears, fur that covered most of their body, they looked more like gorillas than Humans. Yet, there was an intelligence in their face and eyes that was eerily humanlike. “Human ship,” the Bar’samin said in a foreboding tone. “You do not have permission to enter our system. Cut your acceleration immediately. Proceeding any further into our space will be interpreted as an act of hostility and we will act accordingly. Cut your acceleration now, or be destroyed.”

Jonathan couldn’t help his eyes from widening. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting to be greeted with open arms. Yet, open hostility? That was not a good start. “Cut our engines and bring us to a halt,” he ordered. “We can’t risk provoking them.”

“Slowing now, Captain,” Scholes responded at once.

Glancing down from the holo display, James wasn’t surprised to find Cortez and Lydia staring at him. “They are not slowing,” Cortez said. “Are we going to let them get into missile range? They don’t sound too friendly.”

“No, they do not,” Jonathan agreed. As confident as he was in Achilles’ combat capabilities, he didn’t fancy trying to take on eighty warships if the Bar’samin ended up being even more hostile. “They probably don’t know exactly where we can activate our shift drive. Let’s start gently backing out towards the system’s mass shadow. We can stop just before it. That way if we need to make a speedy getaway, we can. And it will look like are trying to de-escalate the situation. See to it, Lieutenant Scholes.”

Achilles’ navigation officer nodded, and his fingers began to dance over his command console.

“Even then, I don’t like the tone of whoever just spoke to us,” Lydia said. “The situation may be getting too risky. Perhaps we should return to Rear Admiral Salamanca and inform him of our discovery. He may wish to put together a diplomatic team that could come with a heavier escort to protect them.”

Jonathan smiled at his friend. He knew what she was trying to do. As much as he insisted none of his officers think of him as a prince of the Empire, they couldn’t help it. What she really meant was the situation was getting too risky for the heir of the Empire to be in. “We will pull back to where we can safely escape if things go badly. That way we’re not taking too much risk.”

Of course, Jonathan was well aware that they didn’t actually know the offensive capabilities of the Bar’samin ships. Though unlikely, it wasn’t impossible their energy weapons out-ranged Achilles and so could strike at his command without warning. That’s just a risk we will have to take, Jonathan decided. He wasn’t going to run at the merest hint of danger.

“There’s another ship leaving Ulan’nagn,” Schmidt reported. “It’s setting course for us. Its acceleration profile is different than the military ships, it could be a civilian vessel.”

“Perhaps things aren’t as bad as they seem,” Jonathan said as he examined the new contact. It did look more like a civilian ship. “They probably have diplomats on board tasked with opening up a dialogue with us.”

“Still, it’s not very friendly to make us wait on the edge of their system,” Cortez said.

“No,” Jonathan replied, but if we’re right and they have only met two other species, one of which is hostile, you can understand the caution… Open up another COM channel,” Jonathan said as he turned to Rutherford.

“Commander of the warships approaching us. We have cut our acceleration and are in fact reversing course further out of your system. We did not mean to cause any insult or upset by intruding upon your home system. I’m keen to open up a dialogue either with yourself or with diplomatic representatives from your people. We eagerly await such a communication.”

When no response came from the Bar’samin warships to his latest message, Jonathan’s concern began to grow again. For more than an hour, there wasn’t much for him or the rest of Achilles officers to do but watch as the fleet continued to close with them. All the while, the Bar’samin ship’s sensors continued to bathe them in active emissions. “I think we better send this ship to battlestations,” Jonathan said when the Bar’samin ships crossed the outer envelope of Achille’s mark VI missiles.

“At once,” Cortez responded as she sent the order throughout the ship.

The tension on the bridge began to rise sharply as the Bar’samin ships continued without any sign of beginning to decelerate. Instead, they actually started fanning out into a large crescent formation clearly designed to envelop Achilles. If Jonathan didn’t have his destroyer so close to the system’s mass shadow, he would have already ordered a hasty retreat. He just hoped the Bar’samin hadn’t developed anything like the gravity well generators Imperial interdictor cruisers were equipped with.

“They have just entered two-way communication range with us,” Rutherford updated.

When no message came, Jonathan’s concern spiked. The Bar’samin fleet was doing nothing to reassure him they didn’t mean to simply open fire as soon as they came into range. Jonathan could feel Cortez and especially Lydia staring at him. Both clearly wanted to pull back further. Without glancing at them, he held his nerve. Running was not something his father would do, and so it was not something he was going to do.

“They are starting to slow!” Schmidt said excitedly three minutes later. “Their course is projected to come to a rest a hundred thousand kilometers outside our effective plasma cannon range.”

Jonathan found himself letting out a breath of relief. The sound of several sighs around him told him he wasn’t the only one.

“We’re being hailed,” Rutherford reported moments later.

“On-screen,” Jonathan replied.

The same Bar’samin appeared in front of them all. “Captain Somerville, I am Admiral Katra. Your ship will not power up its engines or weapons or we will close and destroy you. Remain where you are. Our Representatives are coming to speak with you. They are the leaders of our people. If you make any sign that you intend them harm, my fleet will engage and destroy your ship. Is that clear?”

Jonathan raised a finger towards Rutherford to activate his COM unit. He chose to ignore the hostile tone in Katra’s voice. It was possible that was simply how Bar’samin spoke to one another, though none of the communications Rutherford had intercepted from their planet had indicated that. “Admiral Katra, it is a pleasure to meet a fellow naval officer. Your instructions are clear. We intend your people and your leaders no harm, and so you have my guarantee that we will not take any hostile actions. I hope that we can begin to persuade you of our good intentions.”

“No response,” Rutherford said seconds later when Jonathan turned to him.

“Then I guess we wait for these Representatives,” Jonathan said. “They must be important if they won’t let anyone else speak on their behalf. Have we learnt anything more about them in the communications the ship’s computer has been analyzing?”

“Hold on, Captain,” Rutherford said as he went over his console and began to pull up some files. “The Representatives yes, the ship’s computer and our analyst team have collated quite a lot of information on them now.” There was a pause as Rutherford scanned through the material. “It appears our best guess is that the Bar’samins’ political system is a direct democracy. The entire population votes in twelve representatives who then vote and pass all legislation.”

“Just twelve?” Jonathan couldn’t help but blurt out.

“Yes, Captain, as far as we can tell,” Rutherford replied.

Jonathan shook his head. On Earth, there were thousands of Representatives, Senators, and Servants, and even then, there were numerous minute issues that needed legislative attention that barely anyone knew about or had time to focus on. How twelve people ran a civilization was beyond his comprehension. Yet, I bet they are pretty efficient at getting things done when they want to, Jonathan mused. That at least could be a benefit.

“Well, it seems they really have sent their leaders to speak with us,” Cortez said. “That can’t be a bad thing, can it?”

“Let’s hope not,” Jonathan said as he tried to mentally prepare himself for speaking to the leaders of an alien civilization. If all twelve of them were on the civilian ship that was approaching, or even just a few, they would be used to seeing their will done. It could be like talking to twelve of my mother and father. Jonathan wasn’t so sure that was a fun prospect.

For the additional thirty-five minutes it took for the civilian ship to get into two-way communication range, Jonathan reviewed the recommended strategies Imperial diplomats suggested for earning a new civilization’s trust. He wanted to make sure he had every option on the tip of his tongue in case he needed it.

“They should be attempting to speak with us soon,” Rutherford warned.

Nodding his head, Jonathan made sure his uniform was in place, sat straighter in his chair, and folded his hands on his lap. It wasn’t long before Achilles’ holo display switched from an image of the civilian ship. It was replaced by the live feed of a large oval table. Twelve Bar’samin sat around it in a semicircle facing Jonathan. The one at the center of the semicircle began to speak immediately. “Captain Somerville of the Imperial spy ship Achilles, what proof do you offer us that you are truly from the Human Empire, or that you come in peace?”

Despite the hostility the Bar’samin fleet commander had shown, Jonathan was taken aback. He couldn’t help but defend the honor of his ship. “Achilles is no spy ship. Rather, we are an armed exploration ship of the Human Empire. I’m not sure what evidence I can offer you to prove that I am indeed Human other than our presence here. If I may ask, it appears you know who I am, may I ask, to whom am I speaking?”

“You’re speaking to the Representatives of the Bar’samin people, that should be enough for you,” the central Representative said. “Now, I asked you a question, or do you not have an answer?”

“You want proof that we come in peace?” Jonathan asked but then continued. “Very well. For one, when we entered your system, we did so openly. We did not hide our presence or try to sneak close to your homeworld. We have also not activated our active or targeting scanners, nor taken any hostile act towards your ships. I’m also here now, willing to speak to you despite the overwhelming number of warships you have arrayed against me. And so, as I have said from the beginning, neither I nor my species mean you any harm.”

The Representative actually laughed. It sounded like a loud-pitched dog bark. “You take us for fools, Human. You are brave, bringing one ship here as you have done, I will grant you that. But we know who you truly are. And we know who the Human Empire truly is. You are conquerors and pillagers. You are here to spy out our home system so that you can aid the Dudl’lons in their conquest of our system. Or perhaps you are here to simply take it for yourself. In either case, we know your true intentions.”

Jonathan raised his hands palms forward in a conciliatory gesture. “I do not know why you believe such things about us, but I can assure you they are not true. My species has fought wars with two other sentient species, yes, the Flex-aor and the Karacknids. But they were both defensive wars. And we did not fight alone. We fought alongside more than ten other sentient species who all consider us to be their friends and allies. We are not conquerors or pillagers; we simply seek peace and friendship with our neighbors. As an offer of goodwill, I have permission to share certain technologies with any species that I make first contact with. I would be more than willing to share them with you, along with star maps of the local systems and more detailed information on my species and the civilizations we are friends with. There are six civilizations that are not too far from your home system we could introduce you to. The five species that make up the Conclave Alliance, and the Nanee Empire.”

The one who spoke for the Representatives shook his head vigorously. “You are lying to us. What technologies do you offer? Agricultural ones? Civilian manufacturing ones? Who you think we are? We know how to feed our people and build what we need. All you offer are empty promises. What good would these technologies do us when you help the Dudl’lons to come and conquer us? They would be worthless then.” Jonathan opened his mouth to protest but was unable to get a word in. “And as for these other species you mention,” the Representative continued, “we know all about how you tricked and conquered them. They are your slaves now, as you would have us be.”

Jonathan shook his head just as vigorously. “That is simply not true. It is clear you have attained misinformation about us before we have met here today. I do not know who has been feeding you these lies, but I assure you, they are lies. I mean your people no harm.”

“That is what a spy would say, is it not? And we know your technology is more advanced than ours. You say you didn’t enter our system so as not to appear a threat to us? Yet, it is likely you have already gained all the strategic information about our defenses and fleet that you need. Tell me, what have the Dudl’lons offered you that you would help them conquer us? Will they become your client state and rule us on your behalf?”

Jonathan jumped to his feet, shaking his head again. He felt he was drowning and was unable to kick his feet or pump his hands to swim upwards. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got this all wrong. You have to believe me; I had never even heard of the Dudl’lons before you mentioned them just now. Who are they? If they threaten you, then perhaps my species could offer you protection.”

The Representative brought his hands out from under the table and slowly rested them on its top. He spoke more slowly than before. “So, your true intentions come to the fore. You have been using the Dudl’lons to threaten us, to make us scared so that we would embrace you and your protection with open arms. That is how you will subdue us, is it?”

Jonathan wanted to shout at the Representative, it was the only way he could think to make himself heard. Yet, his mother’s voice filled his mind; ‘anger in negotiations gets you nowhere. You lose control and you will only insult your opponent.’ It was a lesson she had driven home many times as he grew up. Usually, his mother had been trying to help him navigate the many arguments he had with his younger siblings. Yet, he knew she had been preparing him for something more. Taking a breath, Jonathan calmed himself. It was clear the approach he was trying was failing. He needed to adopt another tact. Someone has made contact with the Bar’samin before us, Jonathan was sure. It was the only explanation for why they knew about the Empire and why they were so hostile. Someone has turned them against us. There were only two possibilities that Jonathan could think of, either the Karacknids or this unknown species the Bar’samin refer to as their Saviors. He had no idea why the Karacknids would take an interest in such a technologically inferior civilization. But then the same would hold true for the Saviors, wouldn’t it? He asked himself. He had no answers.

Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke again. “I fear we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Representative. For that, I wish to apologize. You may not believe me when I said it, but this is genuinely the first time I have heard of your civilization or spoken to someone from your species. Nevertheless, I see you will not believe me. Clearly, someone else has convinced you that we are a threat. May I ask who this is?”

“Who we are friends with is none of your business, Captain,” the Representative said. “Unless it is your intention to conquer them as well?”

“Have you considered the possibility that they are the ones deceiving you? It may be that they have intentionally tried to turn you against us. Perhaps it is the enemies of my Empire I mentioned before, the Karacknids? Or maybe it is the species you refer to as your Saviors?” At the mention of Saviors, the other Representatives who had all been sitting perfectly still glanced around at one another. Jonathan had to hide a small smile; he clearly hit a nerve.

The Representative who had been speaking to him banged a hand on the table. All eleven of the other Representatives’ heads snapped back towards Jonathan and remained perfectly still. “You know not of what you speak,” the Representative said. “And even if you do, it will not save you. Neither your ship nor all the scans of our system you have collected will return to your Empire. We will destroy you now, spy, and when your fleet comes to take this world, our Saviors will wipe it from existence. We will put an end to your conquering ways once and for all.” Raising a clenched hand, the Representative pointed a fist at Jonathan. Then, the holo display went black.

“Energy spikes from all the Bar’samin warships, Captain,” Schmidt reported hastily. “They are powering up their reactors. Engines are beginning to put out thrust as well.”

“Turn us around, get us out of here!” Jonathan ordered. He shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t understand where he had gone wrong. He had failed first contact. He had let his mother and father and the Empire down. The sudden blaring of alarms snapped him out of his own head. The alarms were announcing targeting scanners passing over Achilles.

“Missile launches!” Schmidt reported seconds later. “One hundred and forty-four missiles incoming.”

Jonathan swallowed as he saw the new contacts appear on the holo display. He had seen far larger missile salvos, yet before, he had always been part of a fleet. Achilles was on her own. Even though he knew he had ordered Achilles to move close to the system’s mass shadow, he had to doublecheck just to reassure himself. He let out a long breath in relief. At the rate the missiles were accelerating, Achilles would easily cross the mass shadow and be able to jump out. “No sign of any kind of gravity well technology?”

“None, Captain,” Cortez said at once, obviously sharing Jonathan’s concern. “None of their ships seem to have unusually large power signatures, either.”

“Well, at least that is something. I guess we can power up our active sensors now. We may as well get as detailed a scan of those ships as we can before we jump out,” Jonathan ordered.

“Certainly, Captain,” Lydia replied. “Powering up active sensors no…”

Jonathan’s heartbeat skyrocketed as he saw the same thing Lydia did. Nearly half of the Bar’samin missiles had detonated. For a split-second, Jonathan feared the Bar’samins had some kind of bomb-pumped laser technology, something that would allow their missiles to strike his ships from such a distance. His body tensed as he expected something to plow into Achilles. Yet, nothing came. Instead, the entire Bar’samin fleet disappeared from Achilles’ sensors. “What is happening?” Jonathan demanded.

“Our sensors can’t see through the detonations,” Lydia reported.

“Some kind of chaff?” Schmidt asked.

“It has to be,” Lydia replied. “We’re picking up tens of thousands of small metallic particles. I don’t know what they are, but they’re reflecting our sensor emissions all over the place. We can’t get a return on anything. Or, more accurately, were getting millions of returns!”

Jonathan was impressed. He strongly suspected that if he had fired a salvo of missiles at the Bar’samin fleet, they would have now lost their targeting locks. No doubt behind the wave of chaff, the Bar’samin fleet was altering course even as it continued to close with Achilles. “And the beauty of that chaff is that it’s moving fast, staying ahead of their fleet, giving them cover as they charge in,” Jonathan thought out loud. “How long until the rest of the missiles reach us?”

“Seven minutes, Captain,” Schmidt answered.

“Hold off jumping out for a moment,” he ordered as he got a feeling there was more to learn about this race that seemed to want to make an enemy of his people. Two minutes passed as the wave of chaff and remaining missiles continued towards Achilles.

“Look at that,” Lydia said as she pointed to something on the holo display.

It took Jonathan a moment to see it, then even longer to figure out what he was looking at. The dense cloud of chaff seemed to be moving. At least, tens of thousands of the small metallic particles did. Yet, they couldn’t possibly be powered. After several seconds, Jonathan was able to recognize the pattern. The movements all seem to be outward from several central positions. From their ships! James figured. “How?”

“Magnetic fields,” Monroe said, speaking from his science console for the first time since Achilles had entered the system. “They’re using intense magnetic fields to manipulate those objects. It allows them to fly right through without risking damage to their hull.”

Monroe was cut off by the sounding of more alarms. The rest of the Bar’samin missiles were detonating. An entirely new wall of chaff appeared, cutting off any visuals or sensor returns from the Bar’samin fleet as it finished traversing the first wall of chaff.

“They have disappeared again,” Lydia announced.

“Jump us out,” Jonathan ordered. He thought he understood now. In a matter of seconds, a tremor ran through Achilles as his destroyer jumped into the safety of shift space.

“What on Earth was that?” Cortez couldn’t help but ask, relief filling her voice.

“The missiles were never intended to hit us,” Jonathan explained. “They served their purpose. Remember the large energy weapons we spotted on their ships. Whatever technology they use, the chaff is designed to get their warships into range to use them.”

Cortez was nodding as Jonathan spoke. “Even if we had wanted to open fire, with their missiles, we might not have scored a single hit.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan said. “A novel tactic, but possibly an effective one. We’re going to have to figure out some counters.”

“What are your orders now, Captain?” Scholes asked from the navigation console. “What course should I plot?”

Jonathan’s professional interest in the Bar’samin’s tactics evaporated as the reality of the situation returned to him. He had no choice, there was nothing else he could do. Going back to Ulan’nagn would only spark another confrontation. “There’s nothing more for us out here,” he said, giving voice to his frustration. “Set course for Bastion, all we can do is inform Admiral Salamanca of what has transpired and hand the situation over to him.” If Jonathan’s voice communicated a sense of defeat, it was because that was how he felt. The whole point of his mission had been to give him and his ship experience of working independently. Yet now, at the first sign of trouble, he was having to flee back to Salamanca with his tail between his legs.

“Maybe there’s something else out here,” Lydia said slowly. Jonathan turned to find his Second Lieutenant staring at him. “I know you didn’t approve it, but I thought I could risk taking the liberty.”

Having served with Lydia before, both of them had been assigned to Achilles, Jonathan recognized her tone. “What have you done, Lieutenant?” He pressed.

“Just before the Representative cut the COM channel, I used the link between our two ships to run a hack into their COM system,” Lydia said sheepishly.

Jonathan almost jumped to his feet. “You did what?” He demanded. “Didn’t you hear them accuse us of being spies? If they find out!”

Cortez came to Lydia’s defense. “If they find out, their minds won’t have changed one iota. They’ve already opened fire on us without provocation, Captain.”

His First Lieutenant’s words slowed Jonathan slightly, but only slightly. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?” He asked, his eyes still boring into Lydia.

“It was their tone with you, Captain, they were not listening and would not budge. Then, in our transfer protocol’s exchange with their COM systems, I was able to see how outdated their systems are compared to ours. The hack is actually a piece of software the Crians have developed. It’s quite advanced. I doubt the Bar’samin will ever notice it. Certainly, their COM system didn’t detect the intrusion.”

Jonathan still wanted to shout at Lydia, yet he knew it would achieve nothing. He shook his head at her nonetheless. “You better have something interesting to show for your actions.”

Sensing Jonathan had relented, Lydia broke into a grin. “Actually, Captain, I did. I didn’t want to risk trying to hack into other systems, so I had the software search all the recent transmissions the civilian ship had sent and received. It looks like the Representatives received an updated star map from the exploration ship we followed here just a couple of hours ago. Here is what I believe to be a full map of all the systems the Bar’samin know about.”

A map appeared in front of everyone on the main holo display. Bar’samin was clearly marked at its center while eight other systems were depicted. It was a very small map by Imperial standards, yet it showed how far the Bar’samin had explored. Of more interest was one of the furthest away systems. It was clearly marked with the name Dudl’lon. “Maybe we don’t have to return to Salamanca just yet,” Lydia said excitedly.

Jonathan shook his head again, this time at Lydia’s impudence. She was right, though. There were too many unanswered questions for his liking. And maybe we don’t have to return to Salamanca with empty hands. “All right,” he said, making himself sound more perturbed than he was. “Set course for this Dudl’lon system. Maybe they will prove more friendly.” Hopefully, he thought, but didn’t add.

Chapter 6

A Captain’s duty is to always keep his eyes open and to learn from his allies and enemies alike. The navy that stops advancing and adapting is the one that will lose the next war.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, 2nd July 2509 AD, (twelve days later).

Jonathan felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Achilles was sitting on the edge of the Dudl’lons’ system using her passive sensors to sift through all the emissions the alien species’ homeworld was giving off. Like the Bar’samins, the Dudl’lons were blessed with a gas giant rich in He3, and like their neighbors, the Dudl’lons had built themselves gas mining and storage facilities far larger than they could possibly need. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Dudllias, the Dudl’lons homeworld, was also similar to Ulan’nagn in one other way. Numerous transmissions being picked up from the planet spoke of their enemy. It was clear the Dudl’lons were preparing themselves for war. The only difference was that the Dudl’lons didn’t appear hesitant to mention the Bar’samin by name. There had even been two communications picked up that mentioned the Human Empire. Neither proved conclusively that the Dudl’lons also saw the Empire as an enemy, but it was alarming nonetheless.

From there, the similarities ended. Contrasting sharply with the Bar’samin, the Dudl’lons were an aquatic species, living in the seas that dominated their homeworld. They also appeared to be ruled by a single King, though from what Rutherford and the analysts Jonathan had working with him could determine, there were many local Nobles and Mayors that held a lot of power over their areas of jurisdiction.

“We’re not going to discover much more unless we wait several days,” Jonathan said to his bridge officers. “And there is a mystery here I wish to get to the bottom of. I can’t shake the feeling that the Dudl’lons are going to respond to us just as the Bar’samin did. If so, there’s no point beating about the bush. We may as well reveal ourselves and see what happens.”

“I agree, Captain,” Cortez replied. “Someone has been telling the Bar’samin lies about us. We have to assume they have deceived the Dudl’lons as well.”

“Right, which means we better be careful,” Jonathan said. “Let’s prepare to move into the system, but only by a few million kilometers. We’ll cruise in, then come to a halt and transmit our first contact messages. We’ll try and appear as little a threat as possible.”

“We’ll make the preparations,” Cortez responded.

“Maybe we could use the animosity between the Dudl’lons and the Bar’samin to our advantage,” Lydia suggested.

“What are you thinking?” Jonathan asked.

“We could share the recording of your interaction with the Bar’samin Representative, and the sensor data of their fleet attacking us. If you send a message directly to this King and explain ourselves, maybe what happened at Bar’samin will help convince them we are not really their enemies.”

Jonathan nodded as his opinion of Lydia changed slightly. She was proving more devious than he had previously given her credit for. “That’s an excellent idea. We will do exactly that. Prepare to send those files as a data packet with our first contact message. Once we come to a halt, I will open a systemwide COM channel and speak to the Dudl’lon King.”

“Okay, Captain, I already have the files put together,” Lydia said.

“Then we should be ready to set off within the minute,” Cortez updated.

“Proceed when ready,” Jonathan ordered.

As Achilles brought her reactors up to full power, and the impulse engines began pushing her into the Dudl’lons’ home system, their reaction was as expected. Just moments after detecting the gravimetric waves given off by Achilles’ impulse engines, fifty-two contacts appeared on Achilles’ gravimetric sensors as they broke orbit. Forming up into a defensive formation, they turned onto an intercept heading. Like the Bar’samin, the Dudl’lons had their own defensive fleet. From their acceleration rates, it appeared the Dudl’lons had a slight tech advantage over the Bar’samin, with Achilles only operating her passive sensors, it was hard to know for sure.

Long before the first electromagnetic emissions from the warships reached Achilles, Scholes brought the destroyer to a halt relative to Dudllias. Then Rutherford opened a COM channel for Jonathan. “The First contact message has been sent. You can speak when you’re ready, Captain,” he informed Jonathan.

Here we go again, Jonathan thought to himself, hoping, but far from confident things might go a little different this time. “King Krilim of the esteemed Dudl’lons people, I am Captain Jonathan Somerville of the Imperial Starship Achilles. I come here as an explorer and a representative of the Human Empire. As you can see, my ship has already come to a halt. We do not wish to intrude into your system, simply to reveal our presence to you in the hope that you are willing to open a dialogue with me. In the first contact message my ship has already transmitted, you will find information about my civilization and about our recent encounter with the Bar’samin.

“To be frank, it did not go well. Though it was my species’ first time making contact with the Bar’samin, it appears some other species had already passed information to them about us, information that was false. As a result, the Bar’samin treated us with hostility, and even attacked my ship without provocation.

“I truly am on an exploration mission, and when I left my species’ space, no one in the Human Empire knew of your or the Bar’samins’ existence. Nether the Human Empire nor I are conquerors; rather we wish to make friends with our neighbors and open diplomatic and even trade relations. At present, Earth, our homeworld, trades with over twenty different species, all of whom consider us their friends. I fear that whoever poisoned the Bar’samin’s opinion of us may have attempted to do the same with you and your people. I hope you will consider the evidence I have shared with you and be willing to speak with me further. Until I hear word from you, Achilles will not travel any further into your system. Please understand that we mean you and your people no ill. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me.”

Finished, Jonathan bowed and gestured for Rutherford to end the COM channel. Around him, Jonathan could feel the tension begin to rise. They had now done all they could, it was over to the Dudl’lons.

For over an hour, nothing changed as all the transmissions Achilles had sent to Dudllias traversed the system and reached the Dudl’lons planet. Jonathan thought they would have to wait another hour to hear King Krilim’s response. He was wrong. “The Dudl’lon fleet is doing something,” Schmidt suddenly reported, pulling everyone’s eyes away from what they were doing.

Jonathan watched on the main holo display as the fifty-four ships that had been charging towards Achilles began to slow. At least, the majority of them did. Over the space of five minutes, forty-eight turned back towards Dudllias. Only six continued on towards Achilles. He shared a glance with Cortez.

“It has to be good news surely?” Achilles’ First Lieutenant commented.

“Unless they have a message en route to us, ordering us to leave the system immediately,” Lydia suggested. “Those six ships could be on their way to watch us as we leave.”

“They could,” Jonathan agreed, “but let’s try and look on the bright side. Sending six ships instead of fifty-four is a positive development. Let’s just wait and see what COM transmissions do reach us.”

An hour later, Jonathan found himself facing a visual recording of the Dudl’lon King. Being an aquatic species, Krilim was floating in what looked like water. Behind him was what Jonathan could only describe as the largest auditorium he had ever seen. It dwarfed the largest auditorium in either the Imperial Palace or the three Houses of Parliament. Whatever else Krilim was, he obviously liked to emphasize his status.

“Captain Somerville, I am King Krilim, ruler of the Dudl’lon people. I wish I could say you are welcome to our system, but you are correct, news of your species has reached my ears before your arrival. I cannot say that what I have heard is positive. If you are the duplicitous conquerors it is claimed, then you represent the greatest threat my people have ever faced.” As he spoke, Krilim’s long body floated up and down and side to side. Occasionally, he flapped a fin to remain in the center of the recording device. The experience was surreal for Jonathan, for the image of the Dudl’lon King reminded him very much of a dolphin. Yet the words coming from Krilim’s gave off a very different impression than easy-going dolphins he had swam with on Earth.

“However,” Krilim continued, in a more conciliatory tone that made Jonathan sit up in his command chair. “You may be interested to hear that we were informed you were working with the Bar’samin, aiding them in their attempts to conquer us. If the recordings you sent have not been falsified, then it appears they believe the same about you, only in reverse. Though it may be an elaborate ruse on your part, you have pricked my interest.”

As Krilim paused, Jonathan held his breath. “Therefore, you have permission to bring your ship into orbit around my planet,” the King eventually said. “The six ships that are continuing towards your location will escort you in. Let me warn you, one false move and my ships will not hesitate to destroy you. On the other hand, if you do not take any actions that threaten us, then you may have begun to convince me you mean what you say regarding your threat to my people. I am not one to quickly trust an outsider, but I am at least open to the possibility I and my advisers have been led to the wrong conclusions. We would at least give you a chance to tell your side of the story and convince us otherwise. Keep your weapons powered down, and we may have this dialogue you speak of.”

Jonathan couldn’t keep the grin from his face. Krilim’s response to them was far from friendly, yet it didn’t appear he was going to simply try and destroy them! Before he could share his excitement with any of his officers, Rutherford had another announcement. “We’re getting a second COM message, it’s from one of those six ships still closing with us.”

“Let’s hear it,” Jonathan ordered.

On the screen, another Dudl’lon appeared. It looked identical to Krilim. The only way to tell it wasn’t him was the much smaller oval-shaped room the Dudl’lon was floating in. There were other Dudl’lons in the background, floating over what were unmistakably command consoles. “I am Captain Hursh of the warship Castle, Captain Somerville, I have been instructed to escort your ship into orbit around Dudllias. You may set course to rendezvous with us, but at just one quarter of your maximum thrust. Once you have reached my ships, you will take position in the midst of our formation, and we will bring you to our homeworld. If the energy readings from your reactors, engines or weapons increase even slightly, we will open fire upon you at once.”

Jonathan tapped his fingers on his command chair as he looked around at his officers. There was a mixture of excitement and fear on their faces. It reflected how he felt too. “Send the crew to battlestations and raise our gaseous shields. Then, take us into the system. At just one eighth thrust though, there is no need to reveal to them just how powerful Achilles really is.” And let us hope their hospitality is genuine, Jonathan thought as he eyed the six warships that were closing with Achilles. “What do you make of their warships?” He asked as he turned to Lydia, sure she had been studying them closely.

“They are intriguing,” she answered at once. “So far, there are no outward signs of any missile tubes or weapon emplacements, yet they have to be there. I will say one thing though, their ships are beautiful.” Manipulating the holo display, Lydia zoomed in on three of the Dudl’lons’ warships.

Long and thin, each was identical to the other. Their smooth curves reminded Jonathan of the sailing yacht his father used to take him out in when he had been younger. They were in tight formation together, yet each ship was in constant motion. One moment, one forged ahead of the other, then a different one took the lead. At the same time, they were spiraling about each other.

“What are they doing?” Rutherford asked, “Some kind of evasive maneuvers? Do they think we can attack them from here?”

“I doubt it,” Jonathan replied, “though who knows. Perhaps they are just practicing.”

“Whatever they’re doing, they’re all doing it,” Lydia commented as she zoomed out again to show all of the Dudl’lon ships doing the same thing. It was even more impressive with larger numbers. Their ships seem to be split into small groups of three or four. Within each group the ships were maneuvering around one another, and then each larger group was doing the same with each other as well.

“If we try to target any individual ship in that fleet our missiles would have a hard time keeping track of just where it is predicted to be,” Cortez observed. “Maybe it’s a strategy to protect their larger warships?”

“Whatever it is, they are good at it,” Jonathan had to admit. The Dudl’lon ships were maneuvering so close together with a confidence that suggested it was a well-practiced technique. “And I’d say their ships are equipped with a lot more maneuvering thrusters than a similar sized Imperial warship.” With enough training, he reckoned he could try something similar with Achilles and a couple of other destroyers, but even then, he doubted they could match some of the finer movements he was observing.

“Here’s something else interesting,” Lydia said as she manipulated the holo display again to zoom in on one of the larger Dudl’lon ships. “I don’t think these are weapons emplacements, they are too big. They look more like the launch tubes our carriers have.”

Jonathan pressed his lips together as he studied the images. The large hatches did look like fighter launch tubes. Yet, the only reason the Empire or her allies had fighters was because of the Haven’s miniature inertial dampers. The tech was barely forty years old. If the Dudl’lons had developed something similar, then it was possible they were a lot more advanced than some of their other technologies seem to indicate. Another mystery to add to the list, Jonathan thought.

As Achilles got closer to, and then rendezvoused with the six Dudl’lon warships, Lydia wasn’t able to get any better sense of how they were armed. Whatever weapon systems they had; they were well hidden. Following the directions Captain Hursh had given them, Achilles slotted in between Castle and the other ships of her squadron, then together, they approached Dudllias. Unsurprisingly, Achilles was slotted into a high orbit of the Dudl’lon homeworld. Below her, the rest of the Dudl’lon warships kept themselves between Achilles and the planet. No doubt they were there to prevent Jonathan from launching any nukes at the planet. Of course, Jonathan had no such intention, yet he still felt a little dirty that others thought he might.

“There are no signs of any cities or construction of any kind on the planet’s surface. All of the Dudl’lons’ civilization must be built underwater,” Lydia said as Achilles began to circle Dudllias. “Without active sensors, there’s no way for us to see what is under there.”

“We’ll just have to live in suspense,” Jonathan replied. “If we even start powering up our sensors, I suspect we wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.” Whatever weapons the Dudl’lon warships had hidden, he was certain they were all targeted at Achilles.

“We are being hailed from the surface, Captain,” Rutherford reported.

“All right, connect us. And let’s hope their King continues to be somewhat reasonable,” Jonathan replied.

“Captain Somerville, you have kept your word and followed our instructions, for that, I thank you,” Krilim said when he appeared on the holo display, still floating in his large auditorium, or as Jonathan thought of it, his throne room.

“As I said, my mission is to explore and make peaceable contact with any civilizations I encounter,” Jonathan replied. “Anything I can do to assure you of my good intentions, I will.”

“Then perhaps you can begin by explaining to me why one of our more distant neighbors informed us that you are working with the Bar’samin, aiding them in their quest to conquer us?” Krilim asked.

“I’m sorry, but I find myself at a loss to answer you, your Majesty,” Jonathan replied. “Perhaps, if you could share with me who has told you these things, then maybe I could make some sense of it. It is clear you and the Bar’samin know of each other, but my species had not met either of you a month ago. Nor did we know of the animosity between both of your species. If I or my Empire can, we would like to offer help to negotiate your issues rather than see them settled on the battlefield.”

“And so you’re not the warriors and conquerors that we have been told?” Krilim asked. “You have not invaded and subdued the five civilizations of the Conclave Alliance?”

Jonathan shook his head decisively. “We have certainly not, your Highness. The Conclave species are our allies. They, like the Human Empire, are threatened by a common foe, the Karacknids. They are a species who have conquered and enslaved more than a hundred of their neighbors. Humanity and our allies have all banded together to defeat the Karacknids. So yes, it is true, we are warriors, but only because we must defend ourselves.

“We have no desire to rule over the Bar’samin or your people, nor do we desire to aid one of you against the other. Do you not find it suspicious that the Bar’samin think we are working with you? Whoever has told you these lies is trying to turn both of you against us, where instead we should be seeking to aid one another. The borders of the Karacknid empire are not far from your system. If the Nanee and the Conclave species were to fall to the Karacknids, they would quickly conquer both you and the Bar’samin as well.”

“You come to us with warnings of a neighboring civilization that is a serious threat? Such a threat that we should trust and work with you. You do realize I have heard these very same things before?” Krilim said.

“With one exception,” Jonathan pointed out. “We are not trying to use whatever bad blood there is between you and the Bar’samin. But yes, I now see how you might think someone is trying to manipulate you. Yet, just because I have arrived second does that mean that what I’m saying is false. They are the ones lying to you.”

“Perhaps they are, or perhaps you both are,” Krilim said and then paused for several seconds. “As King, I am faced with the unenviable task of balancing many differing factions within my civilization. I am not unfamiliar with the many forms an intrigue can take. I will therefore not dismiss your claims out of hand. They deserve the same careful analysis we gave the first species to introduce themselves to us. Are you willing to remain in orbit and begin diplomatic negotiations?”

Jonathan bowed to Krilim. “I thank you your Highness for taking our claims seriously. We would be happy to dialogue with you for as long as necessary. I hope I can earn your trust. It would be helpful for me to know just who it is I am competing against? Clearly, they know who my people are.”

Krilim’s long thin jaw split to show several rows of teeth. “I’m sure you would, Captain. For now, that is information I will keep to myself, however. Whether they lied about you or not, I am not sure, but they have aided us in other ways. I will not betray their confidence without good reason, though perhaps you may find a way to convince me otherwise.”

Jonathan nodded as he shared a glance with Cortez. His mother had taught him well enough to be able to read between the lines. Whatever the other civilization that had made contact with Krilim had given the Dudl’lons, he was probably going to have to match or better it if he wanted to find out who he was competing against. Krilim is a sly operator, he is going to milk us for whatever he can get before letting us out of his system, Jonathan realized. Clearly, the Dudl’lons were far smoother operators than the Bar’samin. Well, we’ll just have to convince him we’re worth keeping around. “I hope that is something we will be able to do,” Jonathan replied to Krilim.

“Very good, I look forward to it,” Krilim said. “For now, however, I have other matters to attend to. I have my top diplomats working through the information about yourselves and your interaction with the Bar’samin as we speak. Once they have finished their work, we may begin official negotiations. To aid you, I have ordered a brief information packet on our civilization and our ways. If as you say you are unfamiliar with us, then it may aid you.”

“I’m very grateful,” Jonathan said as he bowed again. “I am eager to learn more about your people and civilization. We will eagerly await the opening of formal negotiations.”

“Then we will speak again soon, Captain, and remember, do not do anything that would alarm my warships. My commanders have very specific instructions,” Krilim warned.

“I understand, your Highness, we will speak again soon,” Jonathan replied just before the COM channel ended. When it did, he let out a deep breath. His whole body felt tense. Speaking to a foreign leader was almost more stressful than fighting a battle! And it’s only just begun, Jonathan thought as a new image filled the holo display. He guessed it was from the information packet Krilim had just sent over. From the way Cortez, Lydia and other bridge officers were peering over their consoles, it was clear they were delving into the information. Well, it’s going better than at Ulan’nagn, Jonathan told himself as he pulled up the information packet. There was nothing for it but to press on now.

Chapter 7

Visiting a new world in peace time brings many new discoveries and wonders, visiting one during times of war is more usually accompanied by death and destruction.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Dudllias, 6th July 2509 AD, (four days later).

As Jonathan stepped off the shuttle, he had to raise both his hands to shield his eyes from the raging wind that assaulted him. They had set down on one of the many bleak islands that covered Dudllias’ surface. Turning his back into the wind, he looked around. There was nothing to be seen. The rocky wind-swept island had no animals, no vegetation, and beyond the grey from the rocks, almost no color to speak of. It was easy to see why no sentient species lived on Dudllias’ surface.

“Look, I think that is our ride,” Lydia said as she pointed off towards the nearest shoreline.

Turning, Jonathan saw a large black object poking out of the water. It was about ten meters from the shore. A light flashed twice from it to get their attention.

“I will go first,” Marine Lieutenant Samuels insisted. Moving forward, she took the lead without waiting for a response from Jonathan.

Jonathan smiled to himself; he had expected nothing less. Since their sparring match back on board Resolute, Becca had insisted on accompanying him every time he left the relative safety of an Imperial warship. Since finding out he was the first son of the Emperor and Empress, she had only become more protective. Glancing at Lydia, he saw she was smiling as well.

“You better get going, Captain, or she will come back and take you by the elbow,” Lydia joked. Though they both knew there was a hint of truth to it.

Moving to follow Becca, Jonathan felt a pulse of nerves. Four days of dialogue had led up to this moment. He still wasn’t sure how much Krilim or the King’s advisors trusted him. Mostly, they had pressed Jonathan again and again for whatever they could get from him. Though he hadn’t given it all away immediately, over the four days Jonathan had slowly shared all the information and innocuous technologies the Imperial diplomatic core gave permission to be shared during first contact. It had worked, or at least it appeared to have done so, for Krilim had invited Jonathan down to Dudllias’ surface to meet in person.

Krilim had said he wanted to look Jonathan in the eye. A very Human expression Jonathan had thought, but he hoped just such a meeting would finally break the ice between them, for after their initial discussion when Achilles had settled into orbit, Krilim had not spoken to Jonathan since. All the dialoguing had been between Krilim’s advisors and either Jonathan or one of his other senior officers. Jonathan understood, Krilim’s advisors could ask questions and even hint at making commitments without actually committing Krilim to anything, for he could simply say they were not speaking for him. That was the source of much of Jonathan’s nerves now, for he did not know how Krilim was going to receive them.

As both Lydia and Cortez had argued before he had left Achilles, Krilim could be planning to arrest him for all they knew. Yet, Jonathan had to take the chance. Though the Dudl’lons were not very powerful, the Empire couldn’t afford to make any new enemies, especially when he feared whoever had been telling the Bar’samin and the Dudl’lons lies about the Empire could be another new foe. It was still possible it was the Karacknids behind the move, yet Krilim’s advisors had been particularly interested to learn more about the massive thousand system strong Empire almost on their doorstep. Outwardly, at least it appeared as if learning of the Karacknids from Jonathan was the first time the Dudl’lons had heard of them.

Ahead of him, Becca paused in front of the strong waves that were crashing up onto the rocky shore. “I don’t think they are coming any closer,” she observed as she half turned.

Jonathan’s mind went to his cousin. Emilie was the one who had made first contact with the Kalassai, a species that was now a firm friend of the Empire. Somewhat similar to the Dudl’lons, the Kalassai lived in a thick goo environment. Emilie had spent months living in the goo. Every time she had spoken of it to him as he grew up her face had always screwed up. “The things we do for the Empire,” Jonathan said as he fished out his breathing apparatus and placed it into his mouth. Taking a couple of deep breaths to make sure it was working, he nodded to Becca and then moved towards the waves.

Of course, Becca quickly moved in front of him, though she did hesitate slightly just before the first wave washed up to her feet. Jonathan found himself doing the same with the next wave. He was pleasantly surprised when the water felt warm. Maybe this won’t be so bad, he thought. Then, as he moved forward to where the water was over his waist, he began to really feel the strength of the waves. Becca was forging forward as if they were nothing, but Jonathan suspected that even she was secretly struggling as one crashed into her and the spray washed up and over her face. Turning around, he held out a hand to Lydia. “Here, let me help you. This is tough enough for me.”

“I knew I should have paid for augments!” Lydia complained, speaking through her breathing apparatus. She grabbed Jonathan’s hand just in time for the next wave almost made her stumble.

Holding onto Lydia tightly, Jonathan fought his way through several more waves. Thankfully, the watertight suit he was wearing had special suction motors on his feet. Activating them as the water came up to his head, the force of the waves quickly began to lessen as they continued forward, walking underwater. When he felt it was safe to do so, Jonathan let go of Lydia and paused for a moment to allow her to steady herself on her feet. He couldn’t help but look back and take in the mesmerizing view of the waves crashing unto the rocky beach behind him. Looking up at powerful waves from beneath as they curled and crashed down was a new experience.

When he felt Lydia begin to move forward again, Jonathan joined her. Looking ahead, he could see much more of the Dudl’lon vessel that had come to collect them. It was impressive. Long and sleek like their starships, it had fins and several rotary propulsion systems. A long ramp that led to an open hatch was waiting for them. Becca was already moving towards it. From the tension Jonathan could see in her body, he could tell she was ready for a trap. Though she didn’t have her plasma rifle or pistol, she did have a nano-carbon knife. From the regular training sessions Becca was still insisting he take with her, he knew she was deadly with it. When she got to the bottom of the ramp she stopped, waiting for him and Lydia to catch up.

Joining her moments later Jonathan looked up to see two Dudl’lons floating just inside the hatch. “Lead on,” Jonathan said to Becca as he gestured for her to go ahead once more. With a nod, the marine moved up the ramp. Jonathan followed close behind, his augmented muscles ready to spring into action in case Krilim’s invite was just a ruse to capture them. As they passed through the hatch, however, they were met with no hostility. Instead, as soon as all three of them were in the vessel, the two Dudl’lons swished their fins and lowered their heads towards Jonathan. Taking it as a bow, Jonathan returned the gesture.

“Captain Somerville,” one of them said as its long snout moved back up to face Jonathan. “Welcome on board our ship. We will now take you to King Krilim’s Palace. If you will follow me, we will take you to the viewing gallery.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said as one of the Dudl’lons turned and swam down a corridor. Choosing to still use their suction motors, Jonathan, Becca, and Lydia followed on foot. The other Dudl’lon swam behind them. After a short walk, they found themselves in a large open room with a spherical glass-like material for a roof. Jonathan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the view through it. To his surprise, it appeared the surface of the sea was now more than a hundred meters above them. The vessel had clearly started moving, and they hadn’t even realized.

Movement at eye level drew Jonathan’s gaze downward again. The vessel was quickly catching up with a school of strange-looking fish. They were a magnificent cacophony of colors; bright red, blue, green, and yellow all dazzled Jonathan’s eyes. It took him several seconds to realize that each fish was actually only one color. It was only together as the fish swam in among each other that their many colors produced such a confusing effect. Looking closely, Jonathan thought their movement familiar, then it hit him, the fish were weaving around each other in groups, and in turn, the groups were weaving around each other as well. Just like the Dudl’lon warfleet, Jonathan thought. He wondered if it was something the Dudl’lon had learned from the strange fish, or if many of the ocean’s species used such tactics for protection. Certainly, Jonathan could see how the fishes’ movements would make it very hard for a predator to strike at them.

The next thing that came into view drove thoughts of the fish from Jonathan’s mind. The ship had banked slightly, allowing him to look down towards the seabed. Suddenly, more than twenty large spikes had come into view. They were too symmetrical to be naturally occurring. Confirmation that they had been built came as Jonathan followed them down with his eyes. About halfway down each tower, large glass-like domes reached up. Below them, hundreds of other towers and buildings rose up, not quite touching the tops of the domes. Amongst the towers, thousands of vessels could be seen moving. All the buildings and vessels seemed to be different colors so that the entire view beneath the domes was awash with color.

A city, Jonathan was sure as he shared a look with Lydia and Becca. An impressive one! Jonathan stared transfixed as their vessel came closer allowing him to see more and more of the city. They then began to weave between the largest towers that extended beyond the domes until one extremely thick one came into view. It was no taller than the twenty or so others, but it was easily ten times as wide. The Palace, Jonathan suspected. In all his history reading he hadn’t heard of a King who didn’t use his dwelling to try and impress his elevated status on others. Even the Imperial Palace was designed to impress, though Jonathan knew his father thought it a waste of credits.

As they approached the Palace, a large circular hatch, an iris, Jonathan realized, began to open as all sides of the circle retracted at once. Jonathan cast one last longing glance down beneath the dome to the city beneath. It was exactly the kind of place he had dreamed of discovering when he had imagined himself a space captain growing up. He hadn’t thought of such things for years, but the intriguing city brought it back to him now.

Concentrate, Jonathan warned himself as the vessel passed into the Palace. The city and the Palace were no doubt meant to distract him and lower his guard. He needed all his wits about him if his meeting with Krilim was going to go well. The slightest hint of a current behind him made Jonathan turn. Their two hosts had returned.

“If you will please follow us, Captain, King Krilim is waiting for you,” one of them said.

“We will come at once,” Jonathan said, relieved that the Dudl’lons didn’t seem to have a tradition of making supplicants to their King wait.

As he, Lydia, and Becca were led through the corridors of the palace, Jonathan’s eyes were constantly looking around him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t too much to catch his attention. The corridors the two Dudl’lons led them through were all the same. At no point did they seem to even pass by a hatch. Just when Jonathan began to think it strange, he remembered the opening into the spire the vessel they had travelled in had used. It had appeared from nowhere. All their hatches blend in with their walls, he figured. He guessed it made finding one’s way around in the Palace a lot harder. Either the Dudl’lons had a very good sense of direction, or it was a defense mechanism.

His suspicions were confirmed when their two guides swished their tails and came to a halt in front of a dead end. Moments later, a circular hatch began to retract. “This will take us to the bottom of the Palace,” the same guide said.

Following their guides in, Jonathan didn’t sense any movement when the hatch closed behind them. Yet, just seconds later it opened and they were staring out into a massive auditorium. It could only be the throne room Krilim had first spoken to them from. In the distance, Jonathan could just make out a solitary Dudl’lon floating by itself. Their talkative guide pointed a fin towards the figure. “King Krilim awaits.”

Jonathan bowed to the guide and then gestured for Becca to lead them out. As they walked across the auditorium, Johnston realized that it was essentially a large dome. Above and all around him he was able to look out onto the Dudl’lon city and watch all the hustle and bustle of the many colored vessels zooming about. As he looked around, he kept expecting to see guards or some of Krilim’s advisors. Yet, Krilim appeared to be alone. Jonathan knew Becca would think it unwise, and probably it was. A powerplay, Jonathan judged. Krilim was trying to show them that he had no fear. No doubt there were some guards hidden somewhere that could come to Krilim’s aide at a moment’s notice. When he, Lydia and Becca were just ten meters from the Dudl’lon King, Krilim swished his tail and turned around to face them. Instinctively, he, Lydia, and Becca took that as a sign for them to stop.

“Captain Somerville,” Krilim said without giving any physical sign of greeting. “Welcome to Dudllias and to my Palace. I am pleased that discussions between my advisers and you have progressed to this stage.”

“I was pleased by the invitation, your Highness, and I thank you for your hospitality. Your Palace and your city truly are wondrous. It is beautiful to my species’ eyes.”

“On behalf of my people, I thank you for the compliment,” Krilim said. “We first began to build our domes several thousand years ago. They protect us from the harsher periods of our planet’s climate. You are fortunate that you arrived when you did. Three more months from now, and the water you swam through to board my transport vessel would have been much colder. In here, however, we need not worry about such things.”

Jonathan had a bunch of questions he wanted to ask about this city, not least whether the domes also protected the Dudl’lons from predators. Jonathan couldn’t help but imagine giant sharks roaming the planet’s sea, hunting for food. He couldn’t indulge such curiosities, however. “Your city and your engineering capabilities are impressive. I am sure that there are many technologies and engineering techniques that my species would find very interesting. We have experimented with underwater cities on a number of our planets, but have not yet built any on a large scale. I’m sure there would be many companies in my empire that would be willing to pay handsomely for the expertise your people have. That would be just one way in which a mutual friendship between our civilizations would benefit each of us.”

“And there are many others my advisers tell me,” Krilim said. “At least according to what you have shared with us. Not to mention these Karacknids. If they truly exist, and they are as aggressive and powerful as you say, then it would be illogical; no, more, it would be foolish, not to join with you in protecting one another. Yet, everything you have told us since you first entered our system could be a lie. You could simply be here to spy out our system and defenses in preparation for a Bar’samin attack. There is no way for my advisers to verify anything you have said.”

Jonathan took a breath as he considered his response. He could point to the information and technologies he had already shared with Krilim’s advisors. Yet, Krilim already knew about them, they would not convince him any further. “You’re right, your Highness. There is little more I can do to convince you of what I say. At least, not now in the short term. True trust and friendship take time to develop. Yet, that is something I and my empire would be committed to if you are so willing. “

With a swish of his tail, Krilim moved slightly closer. “You offer no further technologies or other evidences?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I do not believe we have anything more we could share that would convince you any further at this point. I can only hope my word is enough to at least put some of your concerns to rest.”

“I see,” Krilim said as he moved closer still. “That is why I brought you here, I suppose. So tell me, Captain… The Bar’samin are our sworn enemy. Since our scout ships made contact with them a generation ago, they have been preparing to attack us. We know they covet our planet and wish to enslave, if not destroy us. We have been reliably informed you are their backers. Yet, you claim you knew nothing of them until recently. Tell me the truth now in person. What is really going on here?”

Feeling it appropriate, Jonathan took a couple of steps towards Krilim as he gestured for Becca and Lydia to stay back. “Your Highness, I know from the information we have shared with you that you know about the Emperor and Empress of my species’ Empire. Though our constitution is new and their rule relatively short, they have sought to deal openly and honestly with the other sentient species we have met. Under their leadership, our species has formed an alliance that seeks to defend many civilizations from the threat of the Karacknids. Both our Emperor and Empress are deemed honorable and trustworthy by all the species Humanity has befriended.

“There is one thing, however, I have not shared with you yet. Emperor and Empress Somerville share their name with many Humans throughout our worlds, and indeed, many naval officers who serve in the Imperial Fleet. However, I do not simply share a last name with them. I am the son of Emperor and Empress Somerville, and the designated heir to the Imperial throne. Therefore, when I speak to you, I do so with the same honesty my father and mother would have if they were here.

“It is true what we have told your advisers. The Karacknids are real, their wars of conquest have been real. For the last three decades, my species have been focused solely on defending ourselves against them. We have no interest in conquering other sentient civilizations, nor did we know about the Bar’samin, and we have not played any role in arming or equipping them to attack you. It is my belief someone else has lied to them and to you about us in an effort to turn both of your species against Humanity. For what purpose they have done this, I do not know. Perhaps the Karacknids are behind it, seeking to destabilize systems near our border, or perhaps another party is involved. Yet, I stand here, and I am hoping that you will take my word as it is given. I, nor my parents, nor my species wish any harm on your civilization or your people. I can only hope that you will be open to continuing diplomatic relations so that in time, we can convince you of the truthfulness of my words.”

Krilim was silent for a number of moments as he stared at Jonathan. The entire time Jonathan had been speaking, he hadn’t blinked once. “This is an interesting development,” he said. “Perhaps it is I who should have been calling you your Highness all along. I confess, I find it hard to believe that the heir to your species’ throne would be allowed to wander alone in a small starship so far from your planets. Yet, there is much you have shared that I find hard to grasp.”

Krilim paused again as he continued to stare at Jonathan. “Very well, I have now seen you with my own eyes and heard your words with my own ears. Here is my decision. Neither you nor the species that first introduced themselves to us and told us of you has provided conclusive evidence as to who speaks the truth. It may be that you are genuine and offer your friendship freely, or you may be a spy and your latest revelation simply your final lie to win my trust. Without conclusive evidence, I cannot make a final judgment.

“Therefore, I must act to protect my people. Once we are done here, you will return to your ship and return to your species’ homeworld. If this is truly the first time you have learned of the Dudl’lon people, then you may bring word back to your Emperor and Empress. Inform them that I request an official diplomatic delegation be sent here to meet with my advisers. At the same time, I wish for ships capable of bringing a delegation of my own people, back to your homeworld. If your people are willing to do this and once my delegation returns, then I will be in a position to determine whether or not you speak the truth. Until then, I must consider you and your ship a potential threat. Therefore, you must return to your ship and leave the system. If you do not do this willingly, it will reveal your hostile intentions to me far clearer than the words you have spoken.”

Jonathan had to fight to keep his hands from clenching. Krilim’s decision was not what he had been hoping for. As much as he wanted to protest or to think of some other argument, he sensed it would only make things worse. Instead, he bowed his head to Krilim. “I thank you for this audience, your Highness. Your words are wise. I will do as you suggest and send word back to my leaders of my discovery of your system and your civilization. I am sure they will be eager to send a full diplomatic mission to your world. If it is your wish, we will take our leave now and return to Achilles. I do have one request if you would allow me?”

Krilim’s head bobbed up and down. “You have treated me with dignity, Captain. You may make your request, though I make no promises.”

“The species that has been telling you lies about my people; may I know who they are? For if I knew, I may better understand why they are seeking to turn us against one another.”

Krilim’s lips retracted to show his many rows of teeth. “I confess, I do wish to tell you, Human, perhaps your response would tell me something of what is truly going on here. Yet, I sense this is important information to you. Information that you should be willing to give me something just as valuable for in return. What do you offer?”

Jonathan racked his brain. There were no other technologies or really any significant information he could share with Krilim. He glanced at Becca and Lydia, but neither had a suggestion of their own. Feeling defeated, he turned back to Krilim. “I’m sorry, your Highness, I can only appeal to your graciousness and hope that you are willing to share this information.”

Krilim showed his teeth again. “In that case, you ask too much, Captain. There are over a thousand Mayors and Nobles who rule over Dudl’lon society. I must deal with them all on a regular basis to ensure that the majority continue to support my position as king. If I started simply handing out gifts without receiving in return, I would lose my position very quickly. If you are the son of your species’ Emperor and Empress, surely you must understand this?”

“I understand,” Jonathan felt he had to admit. “You can understand my asking, all the same?”

“I can, Captain, and I do look forward to the day when your species can offer me something worthy of this information. Then, it will be freely and gladly given. For now, I believe our time together has come to an end.”

Sensing there was nothing more he could get out of the discussion other than antagonizing Krilim, Jonathan began to bow to the King. He barely moved an inch before freezing. A deep vibration suddenly began to press in on his body from every direction. Shapes appeared from every direction. Within moments, they solidified into Dudl’lons. Nearly a hundred had appeared as if from nowhere. They were all charging towards Krilim. For his part, the Dudl’lon King was slowly backing away from Jonathan.

Despite the intense discomfort from the vibrations, Becca and then Lydia moved in front of Jonathan, shielding him from the approaching Dudl’lons with their bodies. Jonathan wanted to push past them; he was the one who should be protecting them. He started forward towards Becca, but ran into her elbow. He raised a hand to push her arm down, but she effortlessly swatted it away, having already guessed his intention. “Stay back!” She hissed. “Get ready to run if you have to.”

Looking past Becca towards Krilim again, Jonathan saw that the Dudl’lons had likewise surrounded their king. They think we are threatening them, he realized. “What is going on?” He shouted out. “We have done nothing hostile, and we do not intend to do so.”

At a gesture from Krilim, some of his guards moved so he and Jonathan could look at one another again. “The vibrations you feel, they are a warning system. My ships in orbit just detected fifty-eight new contacts entering the system. They are Bar’samin warships. They have come to destroy us, as you no doubt already knew. You have betrayed us!”

Chapter 8

More than once in our history an Emperor’s word has been all that has stood between peace and war. Let this be a lesson for all naval cadets, for when the day comes when you find yourself in command of your own ship far from home, you will be the only one who can speak on behalf of our sovereign.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Jonathan swallowed hard. His mind was whirling as he assessed the situation. In his pocket, he could feel his COM unit vibrating. No doubt it was Cortez warning him of the new contacts entering the system. And probably alerting me the Dudl’lon fleet was targeting Achilles. Jonathan knew he had to choose his next words carefully. Very carefully. His mission and his ship hung in the balance.

“Your Highness,” he began, projecting as much confidence into his voice as possible. “I give you my word, we have nothing to do with this.”

Krilim cut him off. “You lie. You have spied out our defenses, and now your allies have come to conquer us.”

“That makes no sense, your Highness,” Jonathan countered as respectfully as he could. “If we truly did come to do that, why would the Bar’samin be attacking so soon? They could have waited for us to leave orbit, rendezvous with us and then together we could have attacked your world. Now instead, your fleet can destroy Achilles and then turn to fight the Bar’samin. The Bar’samin are not my allies, they consider me their enemy, their current actions prove this beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Krilim didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned towards one of the guards who had rushed to his side and appeared to speak to him for several moments. “There is some tactical sense to what you have said. Perhaps my concern at the appearance of this enemy fleet has been too hasty. Yet, it may still be a ruse. How do I know you’re not planning to wait until our fleet breaks orbit to intercept the Bar’samin warships and then attack?”

Jonathan nodded as he thought. It was a good point. Stepping forward, he gently eased Becca and Lydia to either side of him. He knew they were not going to like what he was about to say, yet he could think of nothing else. “Let us prove ourselves to you, your Highness. If I can, I would have Achilles try to talk down the Bar’samin. Let my ship break orbit and move to speak with their commander. Perhaps we can prevent bloodshed. As a sign of our good intentions, I and my two escorts will remain here with you. That way, if we betray you, you may do with us as you please.”

Again, Krilim turned to his guard, or advisor, as Jonathan suspected. “That is an intriguing offer, Captain. And what will your ship do if the Bar’samins chose to attack anyway?”

“We will defend ourselves, if necessary, and though we will not directly fight alongside your ships, if the Bar’samin somehow are able to strike at your planet, we would intervene to try and stop them. I will not sit by and allow one species to nuke another. I have seen one of my own species’ planets nuked by an enemy that would kill every Human if they could. I would not see that again.”

“And keeping you on the planet would give your ship some extra incentive to protect us if the Bar’samin did break through our defenses,” Krilim mused. “Very well, I accept your offer. You and your escorts will accompany me to the Palace’s strategic command center. Your ship may break orbit and attempt to speak to the Bar’samin if you like. However, warn your people that if there is even a hint your ship is working with the Bar’samin, your life will be forfeit.”

This time, Jonathan was able to bow to Krilim, “I will make sure they understand the situation, your Highness.” Half turning away from Krilim, Jonathan raised a hand towards Becket and Lydia, cutting off the protests he knew were on their lips. With his other hand, he fished out his COM unit. As soon as he activated it, Cortez’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Captain, thank goodness you answered. There are fifty-eight Bar’samin warships approaching. I think they intend to try attacking the planet. You need to go back to the ship right away!”

“No can-do, Lieutenant. I’m afraid we are stuck here for the moment. Krilim is fearful that we are working with the Bar’samin. I’ve offered myself as a hostage to prove our good intentions.”

“A hostage?” Cortez interjected, surprise filling her voice. “Captain, you can’t do that. We can send shuttles down to take you. Lieutenant Onoda’s marines are ready to go at a moment’s notice. “

“That will not be necessary,” Jonathan said as calmly as possible. “I am remaining here. You do not need to worry about me, Lieutenant. I have another task for you. Achilles is to break orbit at once. If you can’t stop them, the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons are going to tear each other apart. And whichever sides wins this battle, the victor is going to try and conquer the other’s planet. There will be a genocide, one way or another. We are not going to let that happen. So, get out there and convince the Bar’samin to turn around and go home. Use whatever means necessary.”

“You mean engage them ourselves?” Cortez asked, her voice rising even higher.

“To stop them attacking the planet, yes for sure, but hopefully, it will not come to that. Maybe if they see just how powerful Achilles is, they will think twice about attacking. Remember, they think we are allied with the Dudl’lons. If they think their fleet is going to be destroyed, they may pull back. I know this is a near-impossible task, Lieutenant, but you have to try. There is no one else.”

Cortez didn’t respond right away. When she did speak, again her voice was more level. “I understand, Captain. We won’t let you down. Achilles will do what we must, and then we will be back for you as soon as we can.”

“Trust in yourselves and your training, and you will be fine,” Jonathan assured his First Lieutenant. Deactivating his COM unit, he turned back to Krilim. “Achilles will be breaking orbit momentarily.”

“Very well then,” Krilim said, “follow us and we will move to the strategic command center to observe what develops.”

As Krilim and his entourage turned and began to move away, Becca moved forward to follow them. Just as Jonathan started to move, she turned and flashed him a dirty look. Not that he needed it, but she was making it clear she was intensely unhappy.

“I’m sorry to have got us into this,” Jonathan said as he shared a half smile with Lydia, though he was speaking loud enough for Becca to hear as well. “Cheer up,” he added when Lydia didn’t return his smile. “We’ll be all right.”

“Yes, I hope so, Captain,” Lydia replied, “I wasn’t thinking of us, though. I was thinking of Achilles. I hope they will be all right, too.”

Jonathan tried to smile again, but couldn’t. He was worried, too. His crew were about to go into combat, and he wasn’t with them. Any concern for Becca’s anger left him. Tilting his head, he looked up through the dome of the throne room towards the distant surface of the sea. For the first time since approaching the city, he didn’t see the spires or other domes. His attention was entirely elsewhere. Be safe, he thought towards the crew of his ship.

*

When the COM channel with Jonathan ended, Cortez brought her hands together across her chest and pressed them tightly against one another. Closing her eyes, she slowly breathed in deeply. The weight of responsibility that had just fallen on her seemed immense. We have been training for this, she told herself. You have been training. You are ready. Mentally, she nodded to herself. Her eyes snapped open. “All right,” she said to all of Achilles’ bridge officers. “Captain Somerville will be remaining with King Krilim. He has ordered us to prevent a battle if we can. Calculate a rendezvous course to the Bar’samin ships. Maximum acceleration. Let’s show everyone just what Achilles can do.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Scholes replied eagerly.

“Shall we send the crew to battlestations?” Schmidt asked.

“Momentarily, let’s break orbit and put some distance between us and Dudllias first,” Cortez answered. “I don’t want to scare the Dudl’lons.”

“Understood,” Schmidt responded.

With the reactors powered up to full and her impulse engines operating at maximum thrust for the first time in days, Achilles shot away from Dudllias. In a matter of minutes she caught up with and then passed the Dudl’lon fleet that had already broken orbit to intercept the Bar’samins. Cortez let out a sigh of relief as they passed without being fired upon. Her eyes then turned to the Bar’samin ships filling the holo display. Somehow, she had to find a way to stop them. Compared to Achilles, the Bar’samin ships were not moving particularly fast. Yet, within two hours, they would be able to reach Dudllias and engage its defenses and even bombard the planet’s surface. And they’ll be able to engage the Dudl’lon fleet sooner than that, Cortez thought. “Hail the flagship of the Dudl’lon fleet,” she requested.

“Lieutenant Cortez,” Admiral Lamuel said in a reserved tone. He looked far tenser than the last time she had spoken to him. “I warn you, if your ship tries to join with the Bar’samin, we will destroy you.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Admiral, we’re trying to stop a fight if we can,” Cortez responded as respectfully as possible. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you. If you could, would it be possible for your ships to slow their advance? It would give me more time to try and convince the Bar’samin to leave.”

Lamuel lifted a smooth flipper and pointed it at Cortez. “Be careful, Lieutenant. That’s just the kind of request an enemy would make. If we slow, it will allow the Bar’samin to get closer to Dudllias. They could slip by us and strike at our planet. Is that your intention?”

Cortez shook her head vigorously. “Of course not, Admiral. I am just seeking a diplomatic solution to this crisis. If your two fleets start fighting before I can talk the Bar’samin down, many lives will be lost.”

“Then I suggest you find some other way to accomplish your purposes,” Lamuel said. “For I have no problem spilling Bar’samin blood. And when that time comes, you better make sure you are well out of range.”

From the look in Lamuel’s eyes, Cortez could see he was deadly serious. “We will stay out of the way as best we can,” she said, not wanting to antagonize him. Another thought came to her. “You are aware of the Bar’samin’s chaff missile tactic?”

Lamuel gave the smallest hint of a smile as his snout cracked open. “We are aware, Lieutenant; you do not need to worry yourselves about us. Go and try your diplomacy. We will be right behind you.”

Well, I had to try, Cortez said to herself. “I will go, Admiral. Farewell.” When Lamuel flashed off the holo display, she turned to Rutherford. “Send a COM message back to the Captain. Ask him if he can talk their King into slowing down their ships.”

“At once, Lieutenant,” Rutherford replied.

“All right,” Cortez said as she turned to the rest of Achilles’ bridge officers. “Let’s send the crew to battlestations and power up our weapons. Start running some drills to keep everyone focused.”

For thirty minutes, the bridge was a hive of activity as Achilles got ready for whatever she was about to face. Cortez left the rest of the bridge officers to it as she watched Achilles approach the Bar’samin fleet. Her mind was on what she could possibly say to turn them back. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She knew she oversaw Achilles as well as Captain Somerville did, she liked to think when it came to tactics and space combat, she was a match for him as well. Yet, she had no political training, nor his elegance.

“Turning to start our deceleration burn now,” Scholes announced as Achilles flipped end over end and began to arrest her momentum carrying her towards the Bar’samin fleet.

It’s now or never, Cortez told herself. “Open a COM channel to them,” she requested. Rutherford tapped his COM console and then nodded to her. “Bar’samin ships, this is the Imperial warship Achilles. You have no need to attack the Dudl’lons. They are not threatening your world or your ships. There is no reason for you to carry out this unprovoked attack. Please, let Achilles act as a neutral party between your species and the Dudl’lons. I believe the differences between your two species can be worked out peacefully. There is no need for violence.”

It took a minute for her message to reach the Bar’samin ships and a reply to come back. Cortez recognized Admiral Katra who had fired upon them in the Bar’samin’s home system. “Human, you are pathetic. Your tricks will not work on us. We have been observing you for more than a day now. You are allied with the scum Dudl’lons. Whatever evil you have planned for Ulan’nagn will not come to pass. We will destroy you first.”

Cortez punched her command chair. The Bar’samin were idiots. They saw enemies around every corner. If you had of let us enter orbit of your homeworld, we would have happily spent days talking to you! Now instead, they were taking the Dudl’lons slightly more open-mindedness as confirmation of the lies they had been told. Whoever has been working against us needs to pay! Cortez thought as a small growl escaped her lips.

“Lieutenant, look, the Dudl’lons are doing something with their carriers,” Schmidt reported. The main holo display had zoomed in to show the Dudl’lon fleet. From the four largest ships at the rear of their fleet, more than a hundred smaller contacts were appearing. Splitting into two groups, they moved above and below the plane of the rest of the ships’ advance. “I don’t think they are fighters,” Schmidt added as he peered over his console. “Sensor drones, maybe?”

“They have the same idea we had when it comes to dealing with Bar’samin chaff missiles,” Cortez guessed. “Let’s hope it works.”

“What are your orders now, Lieutenant?” Scholes asked. “We’re still right bang in between both fleets.”

“A good point,” Cortez said. “Move us to one side, but not too far away. I want to be in position to cover the Dudl’lons with our point defenses in case things start to go against them.” If it was possible, Cortez didn’t want to get involved in the fighting, but if it looked like the Dudl’lons were losing, she would have to protect them in order to protect their homeworld.

Just as Achilles started to move, alarms blared, and more new contacts appeared on the holo display. The Bar’samin had just opened fire with their first missile salvo. “That’s a long way out,” Schmidt commented. “And look, nearly a third of them are coming towards us!”

“They don’t know Achilles’ full capabilities, and likely they don’t know the Dudl’lons either,” Cortez guessed. “They’re playing it safe with their first chaff salvo.” She slapped a hand on her thigh as she realized the opportunity that had been presented to them. “We’ve tried the diplomatic approach, let’s take a different tact. Ready a salvo of mark VII missiles and then we’ll follow them up with mark VIIIs. Let’s show them just what we can do.”

“Aye, Aye, Lieutenant,” Schmidt said enthusiastically. “Firing now!” He announced as soon as he was ready.

Achilles’ nine missile tubes accelerated the mark VIIs to 0.25c as they were hurled towards the Bar’samin ships. In response, just moments later, the Bar’samin missiles detonated, releasing a massive wall of chaff that obscured the Bar’samin ships from view. Four minutes later, another nine missiles were fired by Achilles as a salvo of mark VIIIs followed the VIIs.

If the Bar’samin thought Achilles had fired too soon, they were disappointed, for the mark VIIs were able to keep accelerating for the full ten minutes it took them to reach the wall of chaff that was moving towards Achilles. Just before getting there, the first stage of the mark VIIs broke apart, each releasing three smaller missiles. The twenty-seven missiles formed up together and then drove into the wall of chaff. In the blink of an eye, their antimatter warheads all detonated. Then, roaring right in behind them with their higher acceleration rates, the mark VIIIs passed through the large holes that had been opened in the wall of chaff.

The Bar’samin responded as quickly as they could, firing a second salvo of missiles. The missiles detonated turning into chaff almost as soon as they left their tubes. Yet, it was too late. The mark VIII missiles warheads had already got a good read on the Bar’samin fleet’s location. With their targets locked in, as soon as they detected the wall of chaff, the mark VIIIs started angling up or below it.

Achilles’ sensors were able to watch through the hole in the first chaff cloud as the missiles moved into attack range. Much later than Achilles’ point defenses would have been able to, the Bar’samin point defenses finally opened fire. For seven seconds, thousands of laser beams were flung at the mark VIIIs. The Imperial missiles’ ECM proved very effective, however. Only one missile was destroyed. The other eight then reached maximum attack range. Cutting their main engines, they twisted to point their heads towards the Bar’samin ships, then they detonated. The energy from their thermonuclear explosions was funneled into focusing crystals that released three laser beams towards the Bar’samin. The gigajoules of destructive energy passed just in front of fourteen of the Bar’samin’s ships.

“Open another COM channel,” Cortez said through lips that were pressed together. “Admiral Katra, you have now seen our full capabilities. We can blast holes in your chaff and strike at your ships at will. We also have the speed to keep you out of energy weapon range for as long as we desire. You cannot win a battle against us. Turn your ships around and return to Ulan’nagn. This is the final warning I am giving you. Launch any more missiles at us, and we will not give you a second chance. There will be no more warning shots. The Dudl’lons are not our allies, but I will not let you attack their planet. There are billions of innocent civilians down there. Turn your ships around at once.”

Cortez’s hands tightened into fists as she watched the Bar’samin fleet continue on its course. It wasn’t altering its heading or slowing. Don’t make me fire on you for real, she thought towards Katra. Think of your own planet. If you lose your fleet here, it will be unprotected.

Miraculously, it appeared as though her thoughts had worked. “They’re flipping end over end!” Schmidt announced, a large grin on his face. “They’re going to try and slow and turn!”

“They are, they are!” Cortez agreed, surprise filling her voice. “Quick, open a COM channel to Lamuel.” Even with the Bar’samin fleet slowing, the holo display was showing that the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons would still pass very close to one another. Certainly, they would have to get within weapons range.

“COM channel open, Lieutenant,” Rutherford informed her.

“Admiral,” she said speaking quickly. “You need to slow your ships down. They are trying to turn back. There’s no need to engage them.”

Lamuel nodded his large head. “The Bar’samin do appear to have seen the error of their ways. No doubt that is partly thanks to the impressive display you just put on. However, they are still in our system, and it is clear they came here to destroy us if they could. I will slow, but they will not be leaving here unscathed. We will send them on their way.”

Cortez’s elation evaporated. Despite her best efforts, there was going to be a battle anyway. A part of her understood, if an alien race tried to nuke Earth, the fleet would be shown no mercy. Yet, as far as she or Jonathan had been able to tell from their discussions with King Krilim’s advisors, no actual fighting had occurred between the Bar’samins and the Dudl’lons. If they fought now and spilt blood, reconciliation would be far harder. “Please, Admiral, you don’t need to do this. If you let them leave, they will remember that. It may open the door for proper diplomatic relations to begin.”

“If we simply let them leave, they will remember that we were cowardly. It will only embolden them to attack us again,” Lamuel insisted. “Our discussion on this is over, Lieutenant, I have no more time for you now.”

Cortez’s head fell when the holo display reverted back to showing both aliens fleets. The Dudl’lons were starting to slow, but not nearly enough. Both combat fleets were going to pass so close to one another that no matter how archaic their missile systems were, they were going to be able to ravage one another. Cortez swallowed as she glanced back towards Dudllias. Not for the first time, she wished Jonathan was on Achilles. What was she to do now? She could provide Lamuel with point defensive cover, but then she would be helping them against the Bar’samin. Katra would undoubtedly interpret that as a sign of aggression.

“They are both as stubborn as one another!” She snapped. “Fine,” she said out loud to herself. “Keep us close to Lamuel’s fleet. If we can, we’re going to try and cover them.” But if the Dudl’lons use this as an opportunity to try and launch an attack of their own against Ulan’nagn, I will personally destroy his flagship, Cortez promised herself, surprised by the anger she felt.

Chapter 9

As has been said many times in the past; to any sufficiently primitive species, advanced technology will look no different than magic. Speaking from experience, it is always more favorable to be the one doing the magic, than the one seeing what should be impossible happening before your very eyes.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Dudllias

Sounds Jonathan hadn’t heard from the Dudl’lons before echoed around him as Achilles’ anti-matter missies exploded, opening up large holes in the Bar’samin fleet’s wall of chaff. King Krilim swished his long tail and spun to face Jonathan. “What weapons technology was that?”

Without thinking, Jonathan raised a finger and tapped his nose. When Krilim gave the equivalent of a Human shrug, he realized what he had done. “It is a well-kept secret, your Highness. But if you keep watching,” he continued as he gestured back towards the display that was showing events that were by now more than half an hour old, “you will see more that may interest you.”

Sure enough, Cortez and Achilles didn’t disappoint. The second salvo of mark VII missiles flew through the opening in the chaff wall and detonated, filling space around the Bar’samin fleet with laser beams.

“The enemy contacts are all still there, your Highness,” a technician reported. “No sign of any damage.”

Once again, Krilim turned to Jonathan. “A warning shot,” Jonathan explained. “Unless the Bar’samin actually fire nukes at your world, we will not fire on them.”

“Then what good does all your fancy technology do us?” Krilim asked, the excitement he had shown at the detonation of the anti-matter missiles already gone.

“The Bar’samin don’t know that Achilles won’t fire,” Jonathan pointed out.

Krilim let out a snort, but he turned back to the holo display all the same. It took longer than Jonathan expected. Long enough that he felt his heart rate pick up. Then it happened, the Bar’samin ships flipped nose over tail and began a deceleration burn.

“You did it, you actually did it,” Krilim said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “It wasn’t exactly the kind of diplomacy I expected, but a show of force, that is even better.” Jonathan wasn’t so sure he agreed, but he wasn’t going to complain. He had ordered Cortez to get the job done, and it looked like she had. “What about our ships?” Krilim asked. “Will they be safe?”

“They’re not slowing yet, your Highness,” a technician answered.

Jonathan’s eyes snapped back to the holo display. The technician was right. Closing his eyes, he groaned inwardly to himself. Of course they weren’t. He had known far too many Human admirals who, in the same circumstances, would charge into battle as well.

“Order Admiral Lamuel to pull his ships back at once,” Krilim demanded. “We don’t need to risk our ships.”

Jonathan felt sorry for Krilim. He had tried to convince the King to send orders to his fleet to slow down more than once. His advice had been ignored. Now, it was too late. No orders sent to Lamuel would reach him in time.

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” the technician replied, “they are too far away for us to reach them with a message before both fleets close with one another.”

Krilim said something in a harsh tone that Jonathan took as a curse. When most of Krilim’s advisers turned away from the King, Jonathan did likewise, guessing it was a wise precaution. He didn’t want any of the King’s anger directed at him. Instead, he watched as the final moves of the engagement played out.

Still decelerating and trying to pull up and away from Admiral Katra’s forces, the Bar’samin fleet fired another wave of chaff missiles to protect themselves. By now, however, the hundred or so drones Katra had released from his drone carriers had moved far enough above and below the Dudl’lon fleet that they were able to see around the wall of chaff. Confident he had good sensor data, Lamuel opened fire. Less than thirty seconds later, the Bar’samin fired another missile salvo as well. This salvo had far higher acceleration rates than their previous missiles, telling Jonathan they were anti-ship missiles rather than chaff ones.

With both fleets slowing, they passed out of missile range of one another before being able to fire again. Instead, they were able to focus all their efforts on the point defensive fire. To Jonathan’s surprise, the Bar’samin missiles were able to pass through their wall of chaff without hindrance. They must leave strategic gaps for the missiles to pass through! Jonathan realized. He made a mental note to get Schmidt to analyze the chaff walls they had recorded data on. If the holes could be found, Achilles could sneak missiles through them in return if she ever had to.

As the Dudl’lon missiles had to go up and over the chaff wall, the Bar’samin salvo reached its targets first. Jonathan held his breath as he watched Achilles. The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips as his destroyer charged forward and opened up with all her point defenses. He wasn’t sure what he thought of Cortez intervening to protect Katra’s ships. Yet, it filled him with pride to see his ship in action. The Bar’samin had fired nearly three hundred missiles. Achilles took out the thirty aimed at her before Katra’s fleet was even able to open fire with its defenses. When it did, many more Bar’samin missiles started to detonate, especially as Achilles shifted her fire to help protect Katra’s ships. Yet, neither Achilles nor the Dudl’lons got all of them. Several thermonuclear detonations appeared on the holo display. When they cleared, two ships were gone. Three others were spinning out of formation.

While Dudl’lon ships tried to reform their formation and rescue their damaged ships, it was the Bar’samin’s turn to defend themselves. As their point defenses opened up, it became clear that either their tracking sensors were poor or the Dudl’lons’ ECM was particularly effective, for far fewer missiles were destroyed. And they don’t have Achilles, Jonathan thought as he grimaced. Whatever else today’s actions would accomplish; it would seal the Bar’samin’s hatred for Humanity. Even though Achilles hadn’t directly destroyed a Bar’samin ship, preventing more Dudl’lon ships being destroyed would be interpreted as an act of war. Their paranoid nature will guarantee it, Jonathan feared. The losses they were suffering wouldn’t help either, for as the Dudl’lon missiles exploded, eight Bar’samin ships were destroyed or severely crippled. More than one of Krilim’s advisors let out triumphant noises at the destruction. Yet, when Krilim remained quiet, his advisors quickly followed suit.

For twenty minutes, everyone in the strategic command watched as Katra turned his fleet back towards Dudllias, and the Bar’samin fleet rescued what survivors they could from their crippled ships, and then turned towards the system’s mass shadow. Only when he sensed Krilim turning towards him, did Jonathan look away from the display. “It seems I owe you an apology, Captain. You may just be the man of your word you have claimed to be all along. The Bar’samin attack could have been a ruse to secure your position with us further, but there’s no way they would accept such losses to accomplish that. And they fired upon your ship as well.”

“Your apology is gladly accepted, your Highness,” James said as he gave Krilim a small bow. “I do not know why this other species has lied to you and the Bar’samin. But despite appearances, we consider neither of you our enemy. Though as you have seen, we will defend ourselves if necessary.”

Krilim slapped a flipper to his side. “That we have certainly seen. Your warship is even more impressive than my advisers told me. I would not like to see a fleet of ten of them coming against us. And you say you have thousands?”

“We do indeed. We need them to protect us from the Karacknids,” Jonathan answered.

Krilim shared a look with one of his advisers. “And these Karacknids, you believe they would enslave us if they could?”

Jonathan nodded. “If our allies, the Nanee Empire and the Conclave Alliance, fall, then you and the Bar’samin would likely be conquered as soon as the Karacknids decided to get around to it.”

“Then perhaps we should be more open to formally beginning diplomatic relations with your Empire,” Krilim said slowly. “Though there are many precautions we would still wish to take.”

“Of course,” Jonathan replied. “With your permission, I can take word of my discovery of your system back to my superiors. No doubt they will want to put together an official diplomatic mission to both you and the Bar’samin, though I suspect any mission to the Bar’samin will require a large military escort. In any case, my species is always eager to make new friends, and seeing as you may one day be threatened by the Karacknids, I am sure they would be eager to help you defend yourselves as best you can. There is one thing though,” Jonathan added as he began to grasp just how the situation had changed. While Krilim’s suspicion remained, it sounded like he had lost all his hostility. Jonathan hadn’t been born when Humanity had first learned of the size and power of the Karacknid Empire, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the fear such a discovery would bring. He suspected Krilim was experiencing that at this very moment.

“One thing, what is that?” Krilim asked.

“I am certain my Father will be especially concerned to hear that an unknown actor has been trying to turn you and the Bar’samin against us. Any diplomatic mission would no doubt be predicated on you revealing to us who this actor is. It would be very difficult to hold official negotiations with something like that hanging over them,” Jonathan said as he held Krilim’s gaze.

Krilim stared back for several seconds. “You are afraid it is the Karacknids, that they are meddling with species to the rear of your defenses in preparation for the renewal of hostilities between your two empires?”

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose, it seemed Krilim had a better grasp of the Empire’s strategic situation than he had realized. “You’re right, that is a concern, your Highness.”

“Then at least I can put your mind at rest in that regard,” Krilim said. “The species that contacted us were not these Karacknids you speak of. Or at least,” he continued as he passed. “They did not tell us they were. Now that I am more open to the possibility that they were lying, I suppose they may have been lying about that as well.”

Jonathan frowned. That was entirely possible, which meant anything Krilim could tell him could be entirely accurate, or completely false. “What else do you know about the species? When did they contact you? What did they say about themselves?”

Krilim visibly hesitated. “That is sensitive information, as I have shared before, information it is clear you desire. What do you have to offer for it?”

Jonathan had to fight back a sigh of exasperation. They had already had this debate. Raising a hand, he pointed at the screen showing Katra’s fleet. “Achilles just destroyed more than fifty Bar’samin missiles. You could have lost four times as many ships as you did. I think it is you who owes me, your Highness.” When Krilim continued to hesitate, Jonathan pressed further. “If this other species is lying to you, have you stopped to ask yourself why? You have seen we are hiding no nefarious intentions for your species. But what if they are? Perhaps their lies were designed to turn the Bar’samin and you against us because we are the only ones who might be able to help you? By withholding this information, you may be playing into their hands and sealing your species’ fate.”

Beside him, one of Krilim’s advisors made a sound Jonathan couldn’t make out. The King turned to the adviser, flopped a flipper, and then turned back to Jonathan. “You make a convincing argument, Captain. All right, I will share what we know. They called themselves the Zardxians, they claimed to be part of a multi species confederation called the Eaglaton Protectorate. In truth, they revealed very little about themselves. Yet they did inform us of your species’ presence nearby, and claimed you have conquered a number of our neighbors. They said they were preparing to defend themselves against your aggression and warned us to do the same, while holding out the possibility that we could potentially join their Protectorate.”

Jonathan sensed Becca and Lydia moving beside him. If these Zardxians were telling the truth, and it wasn’t really the Karacknids behind what was going on, then they had just discovered a serious problem. A multi-species confederation sounded significant. Certainly, if they knew of the Empire’s war with the Karacknids and still thought they could fight the Imperial Fleet, it suggested they were powerful. “Your revelations are worrying,” Jonathan confessed. “I’ve never heard of the Zardxians or this Eaglaton Protectorate, but clearly, they know of us and perceive us to be an enemy. The Karacknids and Flex-aor are already all the enemy we need; we have no desire to add more to the list.”

“Well, if they were telling the truth, I’m afraid they may already be on that list,” Krilim said. “I am now wondering if they view us as their enemy as well, or are simply using us to get at you.”

Another thought occurred to Jonathan. “One thing we have thought very strange, both here and at Ulan’nagn. Your gas mining and storage facilities are far larger than you must surely need. Why is that?”

Krilim showed Jonathan his teeth. “You are perceptive, Captain. I cannot speak for the Bar’samin, but the Zardxians promised to protect us should your Empire ever threaten to invade. They advised us to increase our He3 production and to keep a large supply available in case they needed to send a fleet to help defend our planet.”

Jonathan took a half-step back. Everything was slotting into place now. “When did the Zardxians first make contact with you?”

“Over two years ago,” Krilim said.

“And how long has your increased mining capacity been fully operational?”

“Four months, nearly half of our orbital storage facilities are already full of fuel.”

Jonathan shared a glance with Lydia. She was clearly thinking the same thing. It was not good, not good at all. He was now certain it wasn’t the Karacknids behind what was going on. They would never bother sending a fleet so far around Alliance lines, nor would they contemplate using what they would consider such inferior species. The Zardxians, if that was their real name, were a new threat. And a serious one, Jonathan feared, for they were already putting plans for war into effect.

“What is it?” Krilim asked, picking up on at least part of what passed between Jonathan and Lydia.

“Your extra fuel capacity,” Jonathan said as he spoke his fears out loud. “It’s not for a Zardxian fleet to protect your world, it is for one that will come to occupy it, and Ulan’nagn. Then, they will use your systems as a staging ground to invade our territory. Someone is trying to launch a surprise attack against my people and our allies.”

Krilim shook his head. “That cannot be… It would mean we have been building the very means of our own destruction.” Jonathan didn’t meet the king’s eyes. He didn’t want to insult him. Yet, the truth was obvious now. “It cannot be…” Krilim repeated as he turned to his advisors. No one answered him. After a moment, the King turned back to Jonathan. “If you’re right, my people are in serious danger. What do we do now?”

“Now, I need to get back to Achilles as soon as possible,” Jonathan responded. “I need to get word back to my superiors. We need to prepare ourselves and try and figure out where this attack is coming from.”

“And ask for help for us in case we come under attack?” Krilim asked, his suspicion was now completely gone. Instead, a hint of desperation had entered his voice.

Jonathan was barely thinking about Krilim or the Dudl’lon people anymore. He had far bigger concerns. Already, much of the Imperial Fleet had been diverted from the frontline forts to protect against and hunt down the Flex-aor. If more ships had to be pulled through the Gift to protect the rear of Conclave space, the Karacknids would be able to roll right over what meagre defenses still faced their territory. We could be facing a war on three fronts! Jonathan thought. In all his reading of military history, he knew of no nation that had won such a war.

“Are you not going to ask your superiors to lend us aid, if we come under attack?” Krilim pressed.

The King’s tone half-pulled Jonathan out of his thoughts. “Yes, yes, I will make sure they know you may need assistance,” he said out of hand.

Krilim swished a tail and moved forward closer to Jonathan. “If these Zardxians are intending to attack you, then it is your fault we are being drawn into this conflict.”

Sensing the shift in tone around him, Jonathan blinked several times and then stood up straighter. “If the Zardxians attempt to invade your system, it will not be because we have provoked them. But if we can, I promise you, we will try and come to your aid. Time is of the essence, however. Aid cannot be sent, nor a search for where this attack may come from be carried out unless I return to my Empire.”

Krilim visibly relaxed. “Then we will send you on your way at once. Your ship is already returning to orbit with our fleet. You can send word for them to increase their speed. My ships will not take it as a sign of hostility.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan replied as he gestured for Lydia to send the order. “We will return to the surface and our shuttle at once in preparation for their return. Let me thank you for your hospitality, your Highness. I’m sorry we could not stay longer.”

“As am I,” Krilim said. “But we each have pressing matters to attend to. An hour ago, I thought the Bar’samin attack was the greatest threat my species had ever faced. Now, you have given me two even deadlier enemies to worry about.”

“Before you go, Captain, there is something else,” one of Krilim’s advisors said. He had not spoken before so Jonathan did not know his name.

“What is it, Adolphus?” Krilim asked.

“Captain Somerville mentioned searching for the Zardxians, but perhaps he does not have to. Remember, they left us coordinates that if we encountered the Humans, we could send a ship there to request aid.”

“Of course they did!” Krilim said excitedly, “how did I forget? We will share them with you, Captain.” Krilim turned and gestured to another advisor. “Quickly, find us those coordinates. Put them on the holo display.”

In front of Jonathan and Krilim, the display changed from showing the returning war fleet to a star map with Dudllias at its center. Jonathan was so eager to see where these coordinates were that he didn’t even realize the Dudl’lons were revealing to him all the systems they had discovered for free. When a single point began to flash much further away from Dudllias than Ulan’nagn or any of the other systems on the map, Jonathan nodded. Mentally, he could easily project the location of Bastion and Conclave space. Dudllias and Ulan’nagn were almost directly between Bastion and the flashing point. They would serve as the perfect staging systems for an invasion, Jonathan was certain.

Once again, he shared a glance with Lydia. This time, very different thoughts were going through his mind. He was torn. A part of him felt a massive weight of pressure pushing him towards speeding back to Bastion with all haste. If the Empire was going to come under attack, Rear Admiral Salamanca needed as much warning as possible. Yet, it would take four weeks to get back to Bastion, and then at least a couple of months to get a scout ship to Krilim’s coordinates, then longer still for the scout ship to bring its findings back. Whereas Achilles could be there in three and a half weeks.

The flashing system could hold intel that would allow Salamanca to fend off whatever attack was coming, or even prevent it entirely. Or it could be nothing, Jonathan told himself. For all you know, the coordinates could lead nowhere. Words Jonathan’s father had spoken to him just before he had last left Earth rang in his ears. ‘You think you have started to understand the burden of command, and maybe you have, but you have a long way yet to go, my son. A long way.’ Jonathan shook his head as he tried to figure out what his father would do. He thought he knew, but he was far from sure. Whatever course he chose could end in disaster. So how do I know which one to take?

Chapter 10

Though we have been involved in many wars, no species has killed more of our civilians than the Flex-aor. To this day, any sighting of their ships sparks a sector wide search that is not called off until their remnants have been hunted down and destroyed without mercy. They lost their chance to join the civilized species of our galaxy centuries ago.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Z-16 system, 6th July 2509 AD, (same time).

As her Hellcat approached the asteroid field, Georgia reached forward and grabbed her flight stick. She smiled at the challenge she was about to face. The distraction couldn’t have come too soon. With nothing but her thoughts for the three and a half hour flight to the asteroid field, she had been fighting not to let her morale slip. By now, she had lost count of how many missions she had flown looking for the Flex-aor tender ships. But she knew it was over twenty, and not once had she or any of her squadron sighted anything. Though it had been three months now, the thought of having her own squadron still felt weird. Even though she was the daughter of the Imperial Emperor and Empress, she had never expected to be promoted nearly so quickly.

Being one of the most experienced combat pilots in the Navy has its perks, I suppose, she thought as she took her Hellcat through a few evasive maneuvers to make sure all its flight systems were operating as expected. Of course, ‘most experienced’ was a relative term. Compared to the thousands of pilots that had fought in the Karacknid War, she was still closer to an academy graduate than a combat ace. Yet, as the rest of the pilots in her squadron were just that, academy graduates, she had been promoted to command Starling squadron. The name suited Georgia perfectly. Growing up, she had loved watching the starlings swoop down around the palace, looking for flies to pluck out of the air.

When she was just sixty seconds out from reaching the asteroid field, Georgia started to use her maneuvering thrusters to slow her Hellcat’s momentum. Her mission was meant to be carried out in stealth, and so her main engines were not available. That was where the challenge came. She could navigate through a slowly moving asteroid field blindfolded with all of her Hellcat’s systems operational. With just maneuvering thrusters, she would have to have reflexes like a cat. Getting to put her skills to the test once more, Georgia moved in and began to weave through the asteroids. Like many asteroid fields, the one in front of her was so large that it was possible to hide a fleet of several thousand ships within.

The stealth recon drones that her carrier, Archimedes, had deployed throughout the system simply didn’t have the maneuvering thrusters to enter such an asteroid field. That was why she and the six of the other best pilots from Archimedes were poking their noses into each major asteroid field within the Z-16 system. Not that we’re going to find anything, Georgia thought as she gently eased her Hellcat around a particularly large asteroid. Focus! She scolded. She was a squadron leader now; she couldn’t entertain such pessimistic thoughts. Not when her morale would end up rubbing off onto her pilots. Pushing down her thoughts, Georgia focused on the task at hand. Moving her way towards the deepest part of the asteroid field, she then began to search along its length.

For ten minutes, she carefully wove her way past asteroid after asteroid. When two particularly large chunks crashed into each other right in front of her, a pang of fear shot through her. The collision released hundreds of smaller rocks. Georgia’s fingers twitched towards the activation button for her Hellcat’s shield. She caught herself before tapping it, however. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and she sought a path through the debris rushing towards her. Spotting one, she pushed her Hellcat forward as fast as her maneuvering thrusters would allow. The gap was closing! Go! She half screamed as her Hellcat shot through the gap to safety. Before she knew it, her fighter passed between the two large asteroids that were now moving away from one another again and into a clearing.

Distracted, it took Georgia a moment to look ahead once more. Her eyes bulged. Flex-aor tender ships filled her vision. She was in a large hollow part of the asteroid field and there were Flex-aor ships everywhere. Like lightning, her eyes searched around for the nearest asteroid. At once, she flung her Hellcat towards it, praying no keen Flex-aor sensor technicians were looking her way. As soon as she got behind the asteroid, she arrested her speed to keep the asteroid between her and the ships she had just seen.

When her ship stopped, she froze as well. None of the Flex-aor ships had been emitting active sensors, or her Hellcat would have detected their emissions before she had even entered the asteroid field. Yet, passives could have picked up her fighter at such a close range. If they saw you, they will send ships this way, ships with their active sensors on full, Georgia told herself. Slowly, she counted down from sixty. When no sensor emissions were detected, she breathed a sigh of relief. The danger hadn’t passed, but if the Flex-aor had detected something strange, they should have reacted already.

As her certainty she hadn’t been spotted grew, Georgia started tapping on a secondary display. Pulling up the data her passive sensors had picked up, she replayed the brief seconds her fighter had a clear view of the Flex-aor ships. A wide grin spread across her lips. She hadn’t been mistaken. She had seen Flex-aor tender ships. Fifteen of them, to be exact! It wasn’t all that the Flex-aor had, yet it was a significant proportion. And look at them, they are busy. Arrayed around the massive tender ships and docked with them were hundreds of warships. At least half seem to be under construction.

Daddy was right, Georgia thought. Through the telepathic link her father had shared with the Flex-aor High Queen, he had seen her plan to build thousands, if not tens of thousands more warships. That was why the Flex-aor had evacuated so many of their warrior and worker drones from their homeworlds. They needed crews for the massive invasion fleet they intended to build. From what Georgia was looking at on the readout from her passive sensors, they were well underway. And this was just a portion of their tender ships. The Flex-aor were known to have at least forty of the massive behemoths. But if we can destroy these, that will put a serious dent in their plans.

An ominous beep from one of her systems silenced Georgia’s thoughts. Her passive sensors had just detected electromagnetic energy from an active sensor array. They did detect something! In a panic, Georgia tried to decide what to do. If she powered up her main engine and rushed out of the asteroid field, she would be spotted at once. With her Hellcat’s speed, there was a chance she could escape; yet it was just as likely she might run into a Flex-aor ship hiding in stealth or within the near vicinity of the asteroid field. And then they’ll know they’ve been spotted, she told herself as she shook her head. And even if you do escape, by the time we get word back to Emilie, the Flex-aor will be long gone.

In desperation, Georgia looked out of her canopy. She half expected to see a Flex-aor frigate already accelerating around one of the asteroids, its laser cannons firing. Instead, something caught her eye. It flashed into her vision, and then was covered by another asteroid that moved in front of it. She blinked; not certain she had really seen it. What choice do I have? She asked as she spun her Hellcat and ever so gently used maneuvering thrusters to push away from the large asteroid she was hiding behind. It was a risk, the increasing electromagnetic emissions that were washing over her fighter could overcome its stealth coating at any moment. Spinning and weaving as she tried to keep as many asteroids as possible between her and where she thought the Flex-aor patrol ship might be, she desperately sought for what she thought she had seen. For a moment, she started to doubt herself as she couldn’t find it again. Then, it came into view! A large asteroid with a deep hole in it. One or more likely several strikes had turned a crater into a cave.

Without giving herself time to think about how crazy it was, Georgia pushed her Hellcat into the hole. She didn’t even dare turn on her external lights to see how far it went. Instead, she came to a halt and matched the asteroid’s spin as soon as the light from the system’s distant star was cut off. Then, ever so gently, she pushed her fighter down as she extended her landing legs. Miraculously, each of her three legs touched down on a relatively level section of the asteroid. At once, they dug into the rock to hold her fighter in place. Then, Georgia’s fingers danced over her command console as she powered down all of her fighter’s systems. She couldn’t afford even the smallest of stray emission.

With her fighter powered down, silence descended around Georgia. She became aware of her heart thundering within her chest. Sweat was running down her back. She could hardly believe what she had just done. Landing on an asteroid was crazy, never mind landing inside an asteroid cave! Yet, it worked, she told herself. At least, it worked so far. With even her passive sensors powered down, there was no way for Georgia to know what was going on. Her world had shrunk to the cave around her and the small spinning part of the asteroid field she could see out its opening.

As her heart continued to beat hard, Georgia kept a hand on her flight stick. A finger was over the trigger for her plasma cannons. Their capacitors held enough charge for several beams. If a Flex-aor frigate suddenly appeared in front of the cave’s opening, she could blast it as she fired up her reactors and engines. The confusion might give her a chance to escape. That was her hope, at least. Yet, as the minutes ticked by and no Flex-aor warships came into view, her grip loosened. Eventually, she released her flight stick and flexed her fingers. Her heart rate and breathing had eased. The not knowing was starting to get to her though. For all she knew, a handful of frigates could be scouring the area, their active sensors blasting out electromagnetic radiation. Or, it could be completely quiet. Either she was safe, or death was just seconds away. The constant tension made Georgia’s back muscles begin to tighten up. She was bracing herself, expecting a laser beam at any moment. Constantly staring out of the cave, trying to stay alert, she lost track of time.

Five minutes of silence turned into fifteen, then thirty. It wasn’t until an hour had passed that she thought to check her chronometre. Her eyebrows rose when she saw how long it had been. “They can’t still be looking for me, can they?” She knew the answer. If the Flex-aor thought their tender ships were under threat, they would likely look all day. Moving slightly in her flight seat, she had to bite back a groan. Her whole body had become stiff. She felt like she had gone through a training session with the marine sergeant her dad had assigned to train her and her twin brother after they had received their augments.

A new thought occurred to her moments later. She couldn’t hide in the cave forever even if the Flex-aor were still looking for whatever sensor trace they must have got off her fighter. Archimedes was expecting her back. If she was delayed too long, they would send more fighters to search for her. She was a daughter of the Emperor and Empress, after all. There was no way they would not search for her. Which means the Flex-aor will detect them, Georgia feared. That could result in the destruction of Archimedes and worse, it would alert the Flex-aor that they had been found. Then, Emilie would never get a chance to bring the Flex-aor to battle. So, how long do I wait? She asked herself. Another half hour, Georgia decided. Archimedes wouldn’t immediately start looking for her if she was late. She could wait another half hour and then make a break for it.

Despite how quickly the first hour seemed to pass for Georgia, now that she was watching the time, the next half hour dragged. Eventually though, the time came when she needed to make her move. Very carefully, she reactivated her fighter’s small reactor, then powered up her passive sensors. The background electromagnetic energy in the wavelength Flex-aor active sensors used was still high, but it was far less than it had been. If there were Flex-aor frigates actively scanning nearby, they weren’t right outside her asteroid. Accepting the risk, Georgia powered up her maneuvering thrusters. Then, she retracted her landing legs just as she fired her thrusters to lift her off the asteroid’s surface. Stabilizing herself relative to the cave’s opening, she paused. For sixty seconds, she watched the readout from the passive sensors. They didn’t change. “Here goes nothing,” she said despite her dry mouth. Pushing forward on her flight stick, she moved out of the cave. Her passive sensors detected more active emissions almost immediately. They weren’t high enough to overcome her Hellcat’s stealth coating, however.

Turning, she maneuvered up and over the asteroid she had been hiding in. Then, she took as direct a course out of the asteroid field as she could. Getting out proved far harder than getting in. Georgia had to keep one eye on the asteroids in front of her and another on the passive sensor readout. Any time the amount of active emissions washing over her fighter rose, she had to spin in a different direction. Avoiding emissions and asteroids had her sweating once again. Before she knew it, however, she was out! Desperately, she wanted to activate her main engines, even at just three or four percent thrust, it would cut her flight time in half. Yet, she couldn’t take the risk. Instead, she gently activated her maneuvering thrusters as she turned her fighter’s nose towards the rendezvous coordinates. Then, she used her thrusters to start building up her Hellcat’s velocity.

Though she was all too aware she wasn’t out of danger yet, Georgia let go of her flight stick and let the automatic pilot maintain her Hellcat on a steady course. Her whole body was tense. She needed to roll her shoulders and rub her hands. And if there is a Flex-aor frigate in stealth nearby, the first sign I’ll get it is when they blow me apart, Georgia told herself. Squirming down into her seat, she did her best to get comfortable for the long flight back to Archimedes.

When she got there, Georgia thought her ordeal over. Yet as she neared the rendezvous coordinates, her passive sensors weren’t picking up the pocket carrier. Though less than a fifth the size of a normal fleet carrier, if the Imperial ship was anywhere nearby, Georgia should have detected it already. Georgia’s mind became full of images of Archimedes being hunted and blown apart. It was entirely possible the Flex-aor, after getting a whiff of her fighter, had scoured the whole system. While she had been hiding in her cave, Archimedes could have been fighting for her life.

Just as Georgia’s panic started to grow, a new thought stopped it dead. Instead, she glanced at her passive sensor display. Immediately, she brought a hand up and slapped her forehead. She still had her passives operating at just ten percent maximum power after hiding from the Flex-aor! Powering them up fully, it became far more sensitive. Within a minute, a stray signal that had to be from Archimedes or one of the four destroyers from her escort was picked up. Activating her laser COM array, Georgia flashed the target. She got a reply seconds later, revealing Archimedes’ exact coordinates and a flight path for her to take to land in the carrier’s second hanger. Georgia let out a sigh of relief as the tension flowed from her shoulders and arms. She had made it back! And they never detected me. A smile spread across her lips for the first time since she had entered the asteroid field. They had found the Flex-aor. Her cousin would be pleased indeed.

*

IS Matilda, Volga system, 28th July 2509 AD, (twenty-two days later).

Emilie was on the bridge when five new contacts suddenly appeared on the gravimetric display. Matilda’s computer quickly identified them as five Imperial ships, one pocket carrier and four destroyers. Though she had over fifty squadrons of ships out searching for the Flex-aor, she knew the schedule of returns for the next week and more. None should be returning for another two days. Sitting up in her seat, she shared a glance with her Flag Captain. Sitting around for weeks on end waiting for her scouting squadrons to report back had been getting monotonous. Something told her they were about to get some news.

“I have identified the new contacts,” Lieutenant Parker reported from the COMs station. “It is Archimedes and her escorts.”

Emilie froze. Archimedes was the ship Georgia was assigned to. Only one of two things would make her Captain return early; either they had found the Flex-aor, or something had happened to Georgia. Emilie’s heart felt like it was trying to jump out of her mouth. If something had happened, she didn’t know how she would send news back to Earth. How could she tell James and Christine she had lost their daughter?

For the hour it took whatever message Archimedes transmitted to reach Matilda, Emilie couldn’t stop fretting. She thought of Georgia more as a younger sister. They had become close as Georgia had grown up, especially after she became a teenager. Despite telling herself to calm down and wait, Emilie struggled.

“We’re receiving a transmission from Archimedes now, Admiral,” Lieutenant Brzezinski informed her.

“Send it to my command chair at once,” Emilie snapped. Immediately, she pulled it up. The first sentence put her mind at ease. Emilie sat back in her command chair before reading any further. Archimedes had found the enemy! Taking a second to collect herself, she leaned forward again began to read more thoroughly. “Put their contact data on the main display,” Emilie requested.

Seconds later, the holo display changed from showing Archimedes to a star map of the space around Matilda. A distant system only designated as Z-16 was flashing red. Emilie could see it was nearly three weeks’ travel time for her fleet. Worse, spreading out from Matilda’s position all the FOBs that had been set up were marked in blue. There was only one supply base in the direction of Z-16. Emilie turned to Lieutenant Sharma; the officer Andrea had assigned to her fleet to assist with logistics. “How many can we take?”

Sharma didn’t look up from her station. Her fingers were dancing over her console. “Everything we’ve got here and from the nearest two other fleets,” she eventually answered. “That will give us five hundred ships.”

On the holo display, two other nearby systems with FOBs began to flash alongside the one in the system Matilda was in to project Sharma’s words. To ease the strain and increase the amount of area her fleet could search, Emilie had split her forces into several large fleets. “Get word to Tak’ar and Crasins. I want their fleets moving at once. We will rendezvous in the Z-9 system and then proceed towards the Flex-aor.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Roche, Emilie’s Chief of Staff responded.

“Then get our ships ready to move,” Emilie added. “We finally have a target to take on! Let’s not let them slip through our fingers.”

“We can depart within thirty minutes, Admiral,” Roche assured her.

Emilie nodded as she turned back to stare at the star map. You scared me there, Georgia, she thought towards her cousin. I guess we better stop underestimating you. Emilie knew James and Christine were constantly afraid for their daughter. Being a fighter pilot was an extremely hazardous occupation. But she sure knows what she’s doing, Emilie said to herself as she made a mental note to contact Georgia and congratulate her on her discovery as soon as Archimedes was in two-way communication range. Georgia had done well, very well. And now it’s our turn, Emilie thought as she turned her attention back to getting her fleet ready to depart. They had no time to waste.

Chapter 11

The Eaglaton Protectorate was an enigma to us for many years. With hindsight, we now understand who we have to thank for that.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, 4th August 2509 AD, (one week later).

Within an hour of arriving on the outskirts of the system Krilim had given him the coordinates for, Jonathan was certain he had made the right choice. A week later, and he was even more sure. The question now was, did he reveal himself? As he stared up at the holo display of the system, Jonathan went over the pros and cons again.

In front of him, the Farvul’vian system, as the communications they had intercepted from the Rasmorse indicated it was called, was full of warships. They were of three very distinctive designs which other intercepted communications confirmed they belong to three different species, the Rasmorse, the Higarians, and the Tolodons. None of the three appeared to be the Zardxians Krilim had spoken of. Yet, all three did appear to belong to the Eaglaton Protectorate. At least, it was spoken of often. That was where the rub was. It was clear the three species were working together to form a battlefleet. Yet, what their purpose was, Jonathan nor his crew could determine. The communications transmitted between the warships was encrypted to a level where it would take Achilles’ computer months to decode.

Either the three alien species were preparing to attack the Dudl’lons and then the Empire, or they too had been lied to. News broadcasts and other messages transmitted from the small, inhabited planet suggested the general populace knew about Humanity. It was also clear the Empire was viewed as an enemy, but Jonathan couldn’t tell why. The colony belonged to the Rasmorse, but it was not their homeworld. Even so, it had impressive defenses. And combined, the three species had almost a thousand warships in orbit around the colony. In the six days he had kept Achilles on the edge of the system in stealth observing everything, an additional sixty had arrived. Clearly, the three species were nervous about something, though they had more than enough ships to protect themselves from Humanity. With a vast majority of the Imperial and Conclave ships stationed to face the Karacknids, there was no force that could threaten the system. Instead, the Karacknids should be the ones they were scared of. Yet, even the Karacknids were over four hundred light years away, and no communications ever mentioned them.

“You have no more thoughts?” Jonathan asked as he turned to Cortez. After how she handled Achilles in the face-off against the Bar’samin, Jonathan was coming to rely on her advice even more.

Cortez shrugged. “The safest option is to head back to Bastion. There’s no doubt about that. But what do we tell Rear Admiral Salamanca? The Eaglaton Protectorate is building a fleet, one that may be intending to attack us? We don’t even know what the Eaglaton Protectorate is, nor how many species are in it, nor how powerful they are. We came here for answers, but we just have more questions.” Turning slightly, Cortez nodded towards where the alien warships were being projected on the holo display. “But those ships looked powerful. Maybe not as powerful as Achilles, but a thousand of them. I don’t particularly wish to get too close to them.”

“So you’re suggesting we…?” Jonathan probed, not letting Cortez sit on the fence.

Cortez hesitated. “If something happens to us, Salamanca will be completely in the dark. It may take them months to even realize we are missing, let alone retrace our steps, discover the Dudl’lons and figure out everything we already have.”

Jonathan smiled. “That’s still not an answer, First Lieutenant. Your Captain is asking for your advice.”

“If you forced me to choose, I’d say we should proceed into the system,” Cortez said, a little more determination coming into her voice. “We are an Imperial ship; our mission was to explore our borders and ascertain if there are any unknown threats. We still do not know how much of a threat these three species pose. I can’t see any other way of finding out than by approaching them.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan replied. “And you?” Jonathan asked as he raised an eyebrow towards Lydia.

Lydia answered without hesitation. “We have come this far, Captain, and we’ve been through some rougher scrapes than this. I say we go for it. If these three species have been lied to as well, then the sooner we put them straight the better.”

Jonathan almost rolled his eyes at Lydia’s confidence, especially her confidence in him. If the three species had been lied to, he was far from sure he could convince them of the truth. He had failed with the Bar’samin, and had done little better with the Dudl’lons until the Bar’samin fleet had shown up and threatened their very existence.

Despite his reservations, however, Jonathan brought his hands together with a clap. “Very well then, I’m in agreement. We will move into the system and reveal our presence, though we are not going very far, just enough to let them know we are here. We will see how they react and proceed accordingly. I want our active sensors at full and a shell of stealth recon drones deployed. We’re not taking any risks, none of those ships are going to sneak up upon us.”

“Making the arrangements now, Captain,” Schmidt reported.

“Navigation, take us in,” Jonathan ordered as soon as Schmidt gestured to say he was ready. In response to his command, Achilles’ reactors powered up to full, and then her impulse engines boosted her forward seventy percent trust. While Jonathan didn’t want to give away all of Achilles’ capabilities, he wanted the Rasmorse and their allies to see she was powerful. If they really were thinking of attacking Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet, he needed to do everything he could to deter them.

By now, Jonathan was well used to the response Achilles’ sudden presence had. In the blink of an eye, his destroyer’s gravimetric sensors were inundated with new contacts as pandemonium broke out. All three alien fleets broke orbit and turned towards Achilles. Their reaction time and coordination were impressive. Though Jonathan did note one thing, the warships did not combine to form one fleet. Instead, they stayed in their respective formations. That might be useful to know, he thought. If the Rasmorse, Higarians, and Tolodons were not used to operating as one fleet, then that was something that could be exploited. “Send the message,” Jonathan ordered.

“Sent,” Rutherford reported seconds later.

“Take us back to the system’s mass shadow,” Jonathan replied. “And keep an eye on our stealth recon drones. Any anomaly, and I want to know about it.”

As Achilles slowed and turned to reverse course, Jonathan settled into his command chair. The message he had pre-recorded would introduce himself, the Empire and briefly describe his interactions with the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons. He then informed the Rasmorse he had come to introduce himself and the Empire to their civilization, and inquire about the Zardxians. Though he had done his best not to come across as hostile, Jonathan had allowed more than a hint of suspicion into his tone. He had no idea if the Rasmorse knew enough about Humanity to read his voice, but if they did, he wanted them to know how serious the situation was. If they were the ones deceiving the Bar’samin and the Dudl’lons, they needed to put a stop to it at once.

For the forty-five minutes it took Jonathan’s message to reach the alien fleets, they continued straight towards Achilles. Even after the message reached them, they did not alter their course. Though he knew he could order Achilles jumped out of the system at any moment, even Jonathan started to feel nervous as a thousand warships bore down on him. The tension in the air on the bridge suggested everyone else felt the same. Only when they were half an hour outside of missile range did the vast majority of their ships start to slow. Ten ships from each of the three fleets continued on.

“It looks like they want to speak to us after all,” Cortez said. “Though they must be scared if they need thirty ships.”

“We are beyond the system’s mass shadow, I guess they fear we could jump more ships in to reinforce us if needed,” Jonathan replied. “Send them a written message. Request that they do not come any closer than the maximum range of our mark VII missiles. Inform them we do not wish to take any risks as they have not yet made known their intentions.”

“They have acknowledged the message,” Rutherford reported seconds later, “but that’s all. Nothing else from them.”

Jonathan let out a long, slow breath. “Something tells me this is going to be fun.”

Over the next ten minutes, the three groups of ten ships also began to decelerate. In the end, they came to a halt relative to Achilles well outside of powered missile range. As a result, Jonathan would not be able to speak to them in real time. When several more minutes passed and no message came, Jonathan started to think they weren’t going to talk to him at all.

“We are receiving a communication, Captain,” Rutherford eventually reported.

“Let’s see it,” Jonathan requested.

The holo display changed to show images of three different aliens. Surprisingly, each wore something recognizable as a naval uniform. “Captain Somerville of the Human Empire,” the middle alien, a Rasmorse said. “I am Admiral Lvant of the Rasmorse Navy. Let me officially welcome you to our system. However, your presence here is a distinct surprise. The news you have shared is also disturbing. I can assure you; we know of no species called the Zardxians. And whilst we are aware of the Bar’samin and the Dudl’lons, we have not made diplomatic contact with them.”

Pausing, Lvant gestured to his left and right. “This is Admiral Guiy of the Higarian Fleet and Admiral Mosum of the Tolodon Fleet. All three of our species are part of the Eaglaton Protectorate. You have come at quite a sensitive time; our three fleets are carrying out military drills together. You have stumbled into a system that is closed to civilian and alien traffic. That said, it is not every day a new powerful species makes contact with a member of the Eaglaton Protectorate. As you may imagine, we have been aware of the Karacknids for some time, and the Protectorate has been making preparations to protect ourselves from them. This is also how we have recently come to learn of your Empire’s existence. Your species’ victory over them was commendable.”

Surprised at how friendly Lvant sounded, Jonathan was taken aback by the looks both Guiy and Mosum gave Lvant as he complimented Jonathan. The looks lasted less than a fraction of a second, yet they were there. Jonathan had spent enough time with enough alien species to recognize when a sentient being was uncomfortable. Already suspicious of the three Admirals, Jonathan felt even more on edge.

“In the spirit of two military powers that face a common foe, I would invite you to bring your ship into orbit around our colony where we can better get to know one another,” Lvant said as the message continued to play. “I assure you that no harm will come to you.”

Lvant’s last sentence made the hairs on the back of Jonathan’s neck stand up. Anyone who had to assure someone they would be safe was probably not someone to be trusted. Tapping his command chair, he began recording the message he wanted sent back. “Admirals Lvant, Guiy, and Mosum, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m afraid I cannot at this time bring Achilles further into your system. As I shared, we have already been attacked by the Bar’samin. I do not desire to risk my ship and my crew any further. However, if you wish to bring your three ships out beyond the system’s mass shadow, then we could speak in real time, or even in person if you desire. With all four of our ships able to jump into shift space at a second’s notice, we would not be able to threaten one another. I hope this is acceptable to you. There are many questions I have, and things I wish to share about my own species. I hope today’s meeting can be the beginning of a friendship developing between my species, our allies, and your Protectorate.”

The speed at which Lvant’s reply came back told Jonathan the Rasmorse Admiral had responded immediately. “I am sorry that you feel this way, Captain, but your caution is understandable. In that light, I hope you can understand our caution as well. Our ships will stay where they are. We are, however, more than willing to continue dialoguing with you. As you are our guest here, may we offer you our hospitality? Do you require fuel or any food supplies? I could have a freighter deliver them to you.”

There was nothing in Lvant’s tone or the expressions of the other two Admirals that pricked Jonathan’s suspicions, yet he declined anyway. Something told him he didn’t want any Rasmorse ship, even an unarmed freighter, anywhere near Achilles, at least not until he had more answers. “Thank you for your offer, Admiral, but that will not be necessary. We have all that we need on board Achilles already.”

“In that case, Captain, as you are the one who has come to visit us, and you have questions as you mentioned, I am willing to speak with you on whatever topic you desire,” Lvant said. “We have nothing to hide.”

Jonathan glanced at Cortez and Lydia before replying. The conversation was not going at all how he expected. Lvant seemed to be trying his best to appear to be an open book. Yet, he was the one who should have had more questions. Jonathan’s ship was the one who had shown up in his system unannounced. Yet, it felt like Lvant was the one trying to win Jonathan over. “I guess we’ll see what kind of answers we can get,” Jonathan said to his officers before recording his reply.

“I’m glad to hear it, Admiral. If I may, I would like to begin by asking you what you know of my species? It is clear you have known of us before today. That puts us at a disadvantage, for we have just learned of you and your allies in the Eaglaton Protectorate recently. Clearly, some other species, perhaps these Zardxians if they exist, has been telling lies about us. I hope that none of these falsehoods have clouded your judgement of us.”

“I assure you; we have not heard of these Zardxians or their falsehoods,” Lvant said. “We know very little of your species, to be honest, Captain. Most of our intelligence has come from our benefactors, the Eaglatons. They were the ones to discover the Karacknids many years ago. Since then, they have been working to protect us from them. When your ships first came through the wormhole fight the Karacknids was when they learned of you.”

At the mention of the Eaglatons, a hundred new questions popped into Jonathan’s mind. Clearly, they were the lead species in the Eaglaton Protectorate. But what were their intentions? Were they helping the Rasmorse out of the kindness of their heart, or were they exploiting them? And might the Eaglatons be Krilim’s Zardxians? “The Eaglatons,” Jonathan said, settling on one question. “They are obviously the founders of the Eaglaton Protectorate. I’ve never heard of them before, are they a friendly species?”

“They certainly are,” Lvant assured him. “They are a noble race of the highest morals. They have befriended many of our neighbors, and brought us together into the Protectorate. Species that once were hostile with one another, and even fought wars, are now at peace. It is true, they have used force when necessary, but only to prevent larger wars. The Protectorate has allowed generations of peace to be enjoyed by our species.”

“These Eaglatons sound impressive,” Jonathan replied. “Is it possible for me to meet one of them?”

Lvant shook his head in a very humanlike gesture. “I’m sorry, Captain, but no Eaglaton ships are in this system presently. Their systems are also far from here. If our species become friends, I’m sure we can make introductions for you or whatever diplomatic envoy your species may choose to send.”

“That would be very kind of you,” Jonathan said. “May I ask then, how many species are in your Protectorate?”

“I’m sorry again, Captain, but that is not information I believe I have the authority to divulge. Each species has a right to their own privacy,” Lvant answered.

Jonathan sighed. It was to be expected, revealing too much information to a potential enemy was never a good idea. Nevertheless, he tried asking a few more questions about the Protectorate. They didn’t get him very far. Lvant kept insisting the Eaglatons were the paradigm of virtue, a noble species who made it their mission to uplift and aid all their neighbors. Giving up, he changed tact. Some things were simply not adding up in his mind, and his instincts told him to press the issue. “The Eaglatons do indeed sound wonderful,” he admitted. “But I confess, I find something strange. Why did the Eaglatons, or you, not make contact with my species or the Conclave species during our war with the Karacknids? Or even after? If you truly understand the threat the Karacknids pose, then an alliance between our two alliances would be extremely beneficial for us all.”

For the first time since they had begun their dialogue, Lvant’s response wasn’t immediate. “That’s a little concerning,” Cortez commented.

When the reply did come, Cortez turned and shared a glance with Jonathan. Both Guiy and Mosum looked a little strange, rattled almost. They clearly chose Lvant to do the talking for a reason, Jonathan figured.

“That is an insightful question, Captain,” Lvant said. “I cannot speak for the Eaglatons’ intentions. Perhaps they feared the Karacknids would attack us before we were ready if they revealed themselves. However, that is only speculation. They did not instruct us to reach out to you, and so we have not. We trust their judgment on this matter.”

“Can I ask then,” Jonathan responded. “Why do you have so many warships stationed here in this system on what must be your border with Conclave territory? If you wish to keep your existence hidden from the Karacknids, why the military build-up? Especially as you know any attack on this system would first have to defeat our fleets?”

Again, the response wasn’t immediately forthcoming. “I have no answer for you,” Lvant said, his two comrades looking even more unusual. “The Eaglatons have warned us about the Karacknid threat and instructed us to carry out military drills in the system together. We are to simulate defending our territory against an incursion. That is what we are here to do.”

Jonathan noted that Lvant didn’t say an incursion against from who. It might have been nothing, but it seemed relevant to him, so he continued to press. “But I thought the Eaglatons defended the members of their Protectorate? If your species have all known peace for generations, why do you have so many warships?”

“Warships are necessary to keep the peace, Captain Somerville,” Lvant replied. “A deterrent is often necessary in the face of a hostile neighbor.”

Again, Jonathan noted Lvant didn’t specifically referred to the Karacknids as that neighbor. This time, he decided to come right to it. “One final thing does not make sense to me, Admiral. You have said you already know of my species. I don’t understand then why your actions suggest you are so scared of my ship and I? You have brought your entire fleet out to meet Achilles, and you are unwilling to enter two-way communication range? If you know we are peaceful and have helped defend the Conclave species from attack, why are you so fearful of us? It feels like you are treating us as the Bar’samin did, as if you believe we are really a threat to your civilization.”

The delay in Lvant’s return message was even longer this time. “Captain, things have gotten strange since you began speaking with Admiral Lvant,” Rutherford reported from his COM station as they waited.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked.

“All the communications between the warships in their fleets is now fully encrypted,” Rutherford explained. “Before, a lot of what seemed to be innocuous messages between crew members who knew one another were not. Now, they have ceased or are being encrypted as well. And that’s not all, the planet has gone silent too, and I mean completely silent. There are no transmissions coming from the surface.”

“No communications?” Lydia asked, her voice rising. “But how many people did we estimate lived on the surface? A hundred million? How is it even possible to silence so many of them?”

James felt the hairs on his neck rising again. It would be all but impossible to stop a Human colony from emitting copious amounts of electromagnetic COM energy out into space, at least, without shutting down every power generator on the planet. “They are scared, very scared,” Jonathan said to his officers.

“These are not the actions of a species who truly believes we fought the Karacknids to defend our allies from being conquered, Captain,” Cortez warned.

“We have their reply,” Rutherford announced before Jonathan could agree with Cortez.

When the image appeared on the holo display, only Lvant was visible. “Let me assure you, Captain, we do not consider you an enemy. Our actions so far have simply been taken out of precaution, for we did not know your intentions. Already, you have calmed our concerns. If you’re willing, I would like to again extend our hospitality and invite you to enter our colony’s orbit where we can show you that we truly are excited to be able to begin a relationship with your civilization and your allies.”

Jonathan smiled at Lvant’s words. If the Rasmorse Admiral wanted to prove he was not scared of Achilles, it would be far quicker to simply bring his ships into two-way communication range. That he wasn’t willing to was telling.

“Captain, two of our stealth recon drones just picked up something!” Schmidt announced loudly. Everyone turned to him. “I can’t be sure, but it looks like ships jumping into shift space. It wasn’t exactly what I’m used to seeing, but it was close. Here is where we detected the anomalies.” On the holo display, two dots on either side of Achilles, well outside of weapons range appeared.

“Those are large anomalies,” Cortez said. “They could be from a large ship, or two groups of smaller ships.”

Jonathan’s mind quickly processed the information. Lvant had sent ships in stealth past Achilles and tried to quietly jump them out of the system. Given that Achilles had just travelled down the shift passage they had jumped in, he knew they weren’t headed to other Rasmorse colonies. That meant there was only one thing they could be doing. They just carried out a micro jump. They’ll recharge their shift drives, turn and jump back in right on top of us! He had to act, and act fast!

Chapter 12

The age of travelling along shift passages between systems was always a dangerous one, for with limited routes of travel, a fleet’s movements were relatively easy to predict. Now we have the opposite problem, for now an invasion fleet can strike at any system or planet at any time they so choose.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“Jump us out immediately!” Jonathan ordered. He had no idea how long it took Rasmorse ships to recharge their shift drives, but he had no intention of finding out. “Just a micro jump, get us to safety.”

With a tap on his command console, Scholes jumped Achilles. Two tremors ran up Jonathan’s command chair in quick succession as his destroyer entered and then exited shift space. As soon as they jumped out, Jonathan watched the sensor display like a hawk, half expecting some kind of trap waiting for them. There was no sign of any other ships nearby, however.

Letting out a breath of relief, he turned to his officers. “It seems, diplomacy is over.”

“Do you really think they were trying to attack us?” Lydia asked.

“What else would they be doing, trying to sneak two ships, or even two squadrons past us?” Jonathan let out another long, slow breath. “This does not bode well, not at all.” He feared his suspicions were all but confirmed now. Whoever the Eaglatons really were and whatever Lvant and the other Admirals fleets were really up to, he doubted it was going to be good for the Empire.

“So, they were lying to us all this time, just trying to keep us in place long enough to attack,” Cortez said as she shook her head.

“That, or they wished to capture us,” Jonathan figured. “Which begs the question, how much of what Lvant said was true? Or was any of it?”

“Some has to be,” Lydia replied. When everyone turned to her, she shrugged her shoulders. “They weren’t expecting us, unless they are excellent actors, they were clearly surprised. So, if they were trying to deceive us, it’s likely they used the truth to do so. It’s far harder to come up with an elaborate lie on the spot. And those two other Admirals certainly didn’t look pleased with all your questions, Captain. If it was all a lie, why would they care?”

Jonathan raised a hand to rub his chin. “The things they told us about our war with the Karacknids were clearly a lie. I doubt they think we helped the Conclave species; they probably believe we conquered them like the Bar’samin do.”

“Which leaves us with the same mystery,” Cortez said. “Did the Zardxians lie to the Bar’samin and to Lvant and his people? Or is Lvant, or even the Eaglatons, whoever they really are, the ones behind the lies everyone believes about us?”

Jonathan nodded. “That is still a question I want answered, but I fear we have bigger fish to fry now. Lvant has assembled a warfleet, one that could already be aimed at Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet. Think about the fuel supplies at Ulan’nagn and Dudllias. Lvant could leave today, take those systems, and have enough fuel to resupply and strike at Bastion.”

“So what do we do now?” Scholes asked. “Shall I plot us a least time route back to Bastion?”

A big part of Jonathan wanted to do exactly that. Salamanca needed to be warned at once. Yet, he hesitated. Something was telling him to wait. Rationally, he understood the argument. If the Eaglaton Protectorate was planning to attack, his appearance had to have spooked them. Waiting to see what they did next could provide valuable intel. Yet, there was something more than that. Jonathan knew his dad would call it a hunch. Whatever it was, he had been taught to trust it. “Not yet,” he said slowly. “Plot the course, yes, but we are not running just yet. Turn us around, take us back into the system slowly in stealth. Let’s see what our supposed friends do next. Bring up the feed from the gravimetric sensors.”

When the holo display changed, it had almost nothing to show. A few ships in the inner system were accelerating hard enough for their gravimetric waves to be detected, but that was all. The three Protectorate fleets were clearly still sitting where Achilles had left them. In less than a minute, that changed. First, one contact appeared very close to where Achilles had jumped into shift space. With acceleration that Jonathan was surprised to see, it began to hurtle across the system. Not towards the colony though, but towards what had to be another shift passage.

“Someone is bringing news of our arrival,” Cortez concluded. “And in a hurry.”

Before Jonathan could agree, at least a hundred new contacts appeared from the same position. This time, they moved towards the system’s mass shadow where Achilles had been. In the space of minutes, it became clear they were moving onto patrol routes. “They don’t want us coming back into the system,” he observed. “I’m sure they’ll have their active sensors on full.” It would take more than a day for the emissions to reach Achilles where she presently was, but judging from how many ships were suddenly actively patrolling the system’s mass shadow, Jonathan was certain they would be filling space with electromagnetic energy. “Analyze the movement of all those ships, we know they are warships now, let’s get as accurate picture of their capabilities as possible.”

Over the next four hours, everyone remained on the bridge as every gravimetric wave from the Farvul’vian system was catalogued and analyzed. Not long after the patrols were set up, the rest of the nine hundred warships from the three Protectorate fleets turned and headed back to the colony. Once there, they began to slot into orbit in groups. It took Jonathan a couple of hours of watching the maneuvers to figure what was going on. “They are moving in to refuel and resupply,” he realized. “As one group comes out, another goes in. That must be all the ships their supply depots can handle at once.”

Cortez turned to him. “You think they are getting ready to depart?”

“Perhaps,” Jonathan answered as he thought about it. “Or they are preparing to respond to whatever they think we may be up to. It’s quite possible they think Achilles was a scout ship assessing the system’s defenses before a full-scale attack.”

“Either way, I bet we’ve got them nervous,” Lydia said as she joined the conversation. “That has to be a good thing at least, right?” Jonathan’s mind went back to the last time he had interrupted an enemy’s plans.

“What is it?” Cortez asked, seeing the change on Jonathan’s face.

Jonathan turned to Lydia first. “Remember the Flex-aor. We stumbled upon them and caused them to speed up their timetable.”

“Chennai?” Lydia asked, her tone growing more serious.

Jonathan nodded. “If we hadn’t discovered the Flex-aor freighter, they might not have attacked so soon,” he explained to Cortez. “Maybe Chennai wouldn’t have been nuked.”

“Or maybe Chennai and then New Delhi would have been destroyed as well if they had attacked with more ships,” Lydia insisted. It was an argument they had gone through before. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan said, not wanting to go over it again. Instead, he turned back to the holo display and stared at the Protectorate warships that were visible. He felt an even larger burden on his shoulders now. Whatever the Protectorate had planned, they had obviously been making preparations for some time. And who knows how many other fleets they may have out there? His meeting with Lvant could end up being the spark that lit the fire of a new multisystem war. But there is nothing you can do about it now, Jonathan cautioned himself, sensing his negative emotions were threatening to dominate his thinking. ‘You can only respond to the situation as you find it,’ he thought, quoting his father. “Let’s see this route we have planned back to Bastion,” he requested.

Scholes quickly projected it. Jonathan frowned when he saw it passed through Ulan’nagn. “It’s the quickest way, Captain,” Scholes insisted. “I have prepared other routes that skirt around the system, but the quickest adds five days to our journey. If we can sneak through Ulan’nagn, it will get us to Bastion a lot quicker. I thought you’d like to know.”

Jonathan didn’t like it. Passing through Ulan’nagn risked being attacked again. Even though he was confident Achilles could take on ten or fifteen Bar’samin ships, the Bar’samin had more than that. And after what had happened at Dudllias, they would not be in a friendly mood. Not at all! Jonathan was sure.

“Maybe there is another option,” Lieutenant Munroe said, though barely above a whisper.

Only half sure of what he heard; Jonathan turned to the Science Officer. “What was that, Lieutenant?” He pressed.

“There may be another way we could get home,” Munroe said, not sounding any more confident.

Jonathan smiled at him in an effort to put the Lieutenant at ease. He had been helpful while Achilles had been mapping out new shift passages and systems, yet since meeting the Bar’samin, he had been largely quiet. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, there are no wrong answers here. I want, no, I need every option available to me on the table so we can make the best decision. Go ahead, explain what you mean.”

Munroe tapped on his command console, and the holo display shifted slightly to focus on an area of space between Farvul’vian and Bastion. “If we could travel in a straight line, it would obviously be much quicker to head through this area of space,” Munroe said, his voice slowly gaining more strength. “We already know several shift passages that would get us into this general area, thanks to the maps King Krilim shared with us. I have been doing a lot of modelling of the dark matter in this sector of the galaxy, and the movement of all the stars. I believe this area of space may be particularly devoid of dark matter. Shift passages should be much easier to find and map out. There may even be some larger pockets in the dark matter like the Void. It would be riskier, of course, but if I’m right, we could possibly get back to Bastion even quicker than going through the Bar’samin’s system.”

Jonathan was far from convinced. Flying blind into an unexplored area of space was certainly taking a risk. But it is an option, he told himself. “A fine idea, Lieutenant,” he said to Munroe, causing the tension on the Lieutenant’s face to lessen. “Show your data to Cortez and Lydia and walk them through it. You can all brief me more fully when the time comes to make a final decision.”

“You mean we’re still going to remain here?” Cortez asked.

Jonathan nodded. He knew if he wanted, he could leave right away. Already, from the gravimetric data they had collected, it was clear Lvant really did see Achilles and thus the Empire as a threat. Every action of his ships said he was responding to an enemy, not a potential friend. Jonathan’s feeling that he needed to stay hadn’t left him yet, however, and so he intended to stay put. “Let us see what else we can learn before we get out of here. And, it’ll give you and Lydia time to assess Lieutenant Munroe’s idea.”

*

Achilles, 6th August 2509 AD, (two days later).

“Captain, Captain,” a voice said, piercing into Jonathan’s dreams. Groggily, he opened his eyes. A voice came again. “Captain, are you there?”

Realizing it wasn’t a dream, Jonathan cracked his eyes open. “I’m here,” he said as his quarters sensed he was awake and brightened the lights ever so slightly. “What is it?”

“You’re going to want to come to the bridge, Captain,” Rutherford’s now familiar voice said. “More ships have entered the system.”

Jonathan’s eyes snapped open. Sixty-four new ships had entered the system since Achilles had been hiding and watching over the last two days. If Rutherford was waking him up for more, it had to be a substantial number. “I’m coming now, Lieutenant,” he replied. A minute later, Jonathan stepped onto the bridge. Behind him, other officers followed. Rutherford had clearly called them as well. As he glanced at the holo display, Jonathan saw why. Three hundred new contacts were moving into the system. By now, Achilles’ computer could easily identify the gravimetric waves from Protectorate warships rather than freighters or other civilian craft. Jonathan felt a shiver run down his spine. Lvant had just boosted the size of his fleet by thirty percent.

“Those ships could hardly have come just because we were here,” Cortez commented as she made her way to her command chair. “Not unless they’ve got another system just a day’s travel away.” Tapping on her command chair she looked up and shook her head. “There is no star with worlds known to be in the habitable zone that close.”

“Then they were scheduled to arrive here before we showed up,” Jonathan replied. “Which means they are intentionally building up their forces. Whatever they’re up to, their fleet is not here by mistake.”

“And they won’t need half that many ships to conquer the Bar’samin and the Dudl’lons if that was their goal,” Lydia said.

“No,” Jonathan agreed. “They must have their sights set on something larger.” Over the last two days, he had grown more certain that the Protectorate was planning a pre-emptive attack against either Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet or the Conclave’s weakly defended southern borders. There were simply no other targets that needed such a sizable fleet to hit. And today’s reinforcements confirm it, Jonathan told himself. Now he realized why he had wanted to wait. Seeing a static fleet of a thousand ships painted an important picture. Watching over three hundred and fifty more arriving in the space of just two days made it a far more detailed one.

“All right,” Jonathan said as he slapped a hand on his thigh. “I’ve seen enough.” He glanced at Munroe. Over the last two days, the Science Officer and Cortez had convinced him that trying to take a shortcut wasn’t too great a risk. In reality, Cortez was the one who had changed his mind. If his First Lieutenant wasn’t put off by their risk of getting stuck up a dead-end shift passage, then neither was he. “Let’s get on the move. Set course for Bastion, via unexplored space. Salamanca needs our intel as soon as possible, if not before.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes said, his tone suggesting he wasn’t quite as confident as Munroe.

James didn’t respond, however; he was still looking at his Science Officer. Munroe hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that Jonathan had accepted his suggestion. “Is there something the matter, Lieutenant Munroe?” He asked.

“Lieutenant Munroe,” Cortez repeated a little louder when Munroe didn’t look up.

Munroe’s head shot up. His eyes darted between Cortez and Jonathan. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said hastily. “Very sorry.”

“What has got your attention, Lieutenant?” Jonathan asked in a neutral tone, not wanting to spook Munroe.

“These three contacts, Captain,” Munroe answered as he zoomed in the feed from the gravimetric sensors.

Jonathan watched as the first few seconds of sensor data from the additional reinforcements was replayed. Three contacts did stand out. For a brief moment, their acceleration rates were significantly higher than any of the other ships. They were also somewhat on their own, holding position slightly away from the rest of the reinforcements. “Another species’ ships?” Jonathan asked.

“Maybe the Eaglatons,” Lydia suggested.

“I don’t have enough data to come to a firm conclusion, Captain,” Munroe said. “That wasn’t what had my interest, though. It’s right here,” he said as he rewound the sensor feed again. This time, he paused it right at the beginning. “Right when the ship started accelerating, there were additional gravimetric waves given off by the center ship. The waves may not be exactly correct. I think I’d call them eddies.”

“Eddies?” Jonathan asked. “You mean like the gravimetric eddies that surrounded the Gift wormholes?”

Munroe shook his head. “The opposite, actually. Maybe anti-eddies would be more accurate.”

Already, Jonathan felt he was getting lost. “What does this mean?”

Munroe shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Captain, I don’t know. It could be some kind of advanced engine. Or maybe, the eddies came from the ships shift drive as it powered down, though it is strange we detected none from the other two similar ships. It may even be a new kind of weapons system.”

The mention of a weapon’s system gave Jonathan pause. He had no idea if it was possible, but strategically, it made a great deal of sense. Why didn’t we think of this before! “These anti-eddies,” he asked quickly. “If that ship could generate more of them, could they interfere with the eddies around the Gift wormhole?”

Munroe’s eyes widened. Instead of answering, he began to tap on his console. “I can’t be sure, Captain,” he said as he continued to carry out some calculations. “But I don’t think it would be good. It could create a gravimetric storm that would rip apart any ships that tried to pass through it. Or, it could even collapse the wormhole entirely.” His head shot up. “We’d be stuck here on this side of the Gift.”

That was the least of Jonathan’s concerns. He turned to Cortez. He could see in her face that she grasped it as well. “If they can close the Gift wormhole, we could receive no more reinforcements from Earth. It wouldn’t just be us who are stuck here, but Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet and all the Conclave species. We will be stuck alone without reinforcements at the mercy of either this Protectorate or the Karacknids. We need to get out of here now!” Jonathan said. Salamanca needed to get a fleet to the Gift to protect it at all costs. “Jump us out at once, Lieutenant,” Jonathan ordered as he turned to Scholes. He just hoped they had enough time.

*

Achilles, 27th August 2509 AD, (three weeks later).

As he always was, Jonathan was sitting in his command chair as Achilles came to the end of the shift passage she was travelling along. The Kalassai dark matter sensors had allowed Munroe to map it all the way to an unexplored system. With luck, they would find another shift passage there that led in the direction they wanted to head. Until this point, Munroe’s prediction that they could find a path through unexplored space was proving correct. They were actually closer to Bastion than they had expected to be at this point.

“Exiting shift space in five seconds,” Scholes reported.

When the seconds passed, a tremor ran through the Imperial destroyer. Silence filled the bridge as everyone peered over their consoles tracking the feed from Achilles’ passive sensors and monitoring the ship’s systems. Several officers saw it at once, but automatic alarms beat everyone to it. They told Jonathan an unknown contact had been detected. One that was already in weapons range! “Bring up the shields!” Jonathan ordered. “Begin evasive maneuvers. Active sensors to full.”

“Unknown contact has activated their sensors,” Schmidt reported. “We are being blasted with targeting scanners.”

“We’re picking up energy build ups from them!” Cortez announced.

“Wait! Wait!” Lydia suddenly shouted just as Jonathan had been about to order the contact targeted with Achilles’ weapon sensors. “I know her, she is the Mongoose. She is an Imperial ship! I served in her as a Sub Lieutenant. She is another one of the long-range destroyers assigned to explore the Conclave’s southern border.”

With any of his more junior officers, Jonathan would have wanted to double check, but he trusted Lydia implicitly. “Power down our active sensors. Activate our transponder,” he ordered at once. “And cease our evasive maneuvers.”

“Transponder activated,” Rutherford let him know.

“Hail them, use Rear Admiral Salamanca’s Fleet’s frequency,” Jonathan requested.

“They are powering down their targeting sensors and slowing their maneuvers,” Schmidt reported.

“The contact has just activated her transponder,” Rutherford informed everyone. “She is the Mongoose. Captain McMasters is returning your hail, Captain.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but grin as a naval captain in a uniform matching his own appeared on the holo display. It felt like a long time since he had seen a friendly face outside of Achilles’ crew. “Captain McMasters, I think I owe you an apology. We have caused each other quite the shock.”

“You have indeed, Captain Somerville, that was quite the entrance. I have to ask, what in the blazes are you doing out here?” McMasters replied.

Jonathan lost his smile as the reality of the situation returned to him. “I’m afraid we don’t bear good news. We have made contact with six new civilizations. At least four of them are hostile. Three are in some kind of alliance and have been building up military forces in a system just three weeks from here. I believe they plan to attack our fleet base at Bastion or the Conclave Alliance’s southern border. We were on our way back to Salamanca to bring warning. I have a full report I can transmit to you.”

“That is quite the story, Captain,” McMasters said as he shook his head. “The last thing we need are more enemies. It sounds like you have no time to spare, though, what are you doing passing through this area of space, have you already mapped it out? I thought this was my assigned sector.”

“It is, Captain,” Somerville replied. “Actually, our meeting is fortuitous, very fortuitous,” he continued as it dawned on him that McMasters would have a route back to Bastion already mapped out. “We were mapping out a route for ourselves as we went. My Science Officer estimated travelling through this area of space would be quicker than retracing our steps. It turns out he was more right than he realized. We’re going to need the map of the local systems you have created.”

“Of course, we’ll transfer the data right away, though I think we have a decision to make between the two of us. If there is an enemy massing on our border, there’s no point me continuing my mission. But both of us don’t need to return to Salamanca,” McMasters said, expecting Jonathan to follow his reasoning.

Jonathan did, if Achilles or Mongoose went to Salamanca, the other destroyer could return to Farvul’vian and keep an eye on the Protectorate fleet. Yet, something else dawned on him. “Any other time and I’d agree with you, Captain, and I’m sure both of us would be chomping at the bit to be the one to keep an eye on this hostile fleet. But there’s another problem.” Quickly, Jonathan explained to McMasters about the anti-eddies Munroe had detected.

McMasters saw the threat immediately. “Then, we must bring a warning to the Gift as well. They need to jump their fleet through the Gift and protect this side to make sure the wormhole is kept open.” McMasters paused as he screwed up his face.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s not that I doubt your Science Officer,” McMasters answered. “But the Gift Garrison Fleet has strict orders not to pass through the wormhole, but to defend the forts on Earth’s side. I’m not sure they would come through without a direct order from Rear Admiral Salamanca…unless that order came from someone more important.”

Jonathan nodded. “Like the heir to the Imperial throne,” he finished for McMasters. Not once in his military career had Jonathan used his father to get what he wanted. Yet, if the situation was desperate enough, he had no problem doing so. “All right, Captain, you head to Bastion with all haste, I’ll take Achilles to the Gift and get the Gift Fleet to jump through and make sure whoever these aliens are, they cannot close the wormhole. Just make sure you get Salamanca to send orders confirming the need for the Gift Fleet to traverse through the wormhole.”

McMasters laughed. “Don’t worry, Somerville, I won’t leave you high and dry. Get the Gift Fleet to send word to Salamanca that the Gift is secure, so he knows his back is covered as soon as you get there.”

“I will make sure of it,” Jonathan promised.

“Then, we have a plan, Captain,” McMasters said as he quickly touched his forehead in a slack salute. “Let us get to it. Godspeed.”

“And to you too,” Jonathan replied, his respect for McMasters having grown with every sentence from the Captain’s lips. “You heard him,” Jonathan said to his bridge officers as soon as the COM channel ended. “Lay in a course for the Gift. We have a new responsibility now.”

Chapter 13

A well-planned ambush can turn the tide of even the biggest of wars.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Matilda, Z-16 System

Emilie couldn’t help but grin when the sensor data from her stealth ship came in. The Flex-aor tender ships were still where Georgia had spotted them. We have them! She knew. Looking up from her datapad, she found Rodgers and Roche staring at her, excitement written across their faces. “Let’s do this,” Emilie said. “Prepare the fleet to jump in.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Roche said enthusiastically.

At Emilie’s words, the mood on Matilda’s bridge instantly changed. The apprehension as everyone had waited for the stealth ship to return was replaced with anticipation and excitement. Tension also began to fill the air. Emilie felt it within herself. The stealth ship had detected at least a couple of hundred Flex-aor warships. Given High Queen Ala’ron was known to have over eight thousand, it was very likely there were many more. But we are not here to take them all on, Emilie knew. The tender ships hiding in the asteroid field were her primary targets. And hiding in there may be as much of a curse as a blessing, she hoped. The asteroids would hide her ships’ approach from the Flex-aor as well as they hid the tender ships. And once the shooting starts, all hell is going to break loose.

Given that they didn’t know how many enemy ships they were going to face, the best plan she and her staff officers had come up with involved filling the asteroid field with thermonuclear warheads. If her ships could break apart enough asteroids, it would begin a cascading event of collisions that would fill the field with massive chunks of deadly rock. The Flex-aor warships and tender ships wouldn’t be able to escape. With luck, Emilie could get her fleet in, launch their attack, and pull back without even having to face the Flex-aor fleet in open battle. We shall see, she cautioned herself before her excitement got the best of her. No plan survives contact with the enemy, she had learned that more than once during the Karacknid War.

“The fleet is ready to jump, Admiral,” Roche reported a minute later.

“Then, let us proceed,” Emilie ordered as she gestured to Johansson at the navigation console.

At the touch of a button from Johansson, Matilda and the five hundred warships with her carried out their micro jumps. They exited shift space well out from the system’s mass shadow. Then, remaining in stealth, they began a slow acceleration burn into the system. Though Emilie’s scout ship hadn’t detected any, she was certain the Flex-aor would have ships in stealth, patrolling all the shift passages into the system. That was why her ships were now beginning a slow, five-hour elliptical cruise into the system. With luck, they would bypass bumping directly into any Flex-aor scout ships and be able to approach the asteroid field from an angle the Flex-aor wouldn’t expect. Settling herself into her command chair, Emilie prepared herself for the long wait. Of course, she had to be ready to act at a moment’s notice. For despite her hopes, there was no guarantee the Flex-aor fleet wouldn’t spot her and seek an engagement.

The first hour passed without incident. Emilie had her staff officers simulate their attack into the asteroid field twice to keep everyone’s mind from wandering. As soon as Matilda crossed the system’s mass shadow, however, something changed. Looking around at her officers, Emilie expected a contact report or something else to be announced. Yet, everyone was continuing about their duties as normal. Emilie almost ordered an additional shell of stealth recon drones launched and her fleet to slow even further. But as she assessed her emotions, she couldn’t figure out why she would give such an order. The smallest of tingles had run down her spine, but there was no outward reason for it. Mentally shrugging, she tried to relax in her command chair once again. However, her eyes started darting to the sensor feed far more than they had before.

Despite her feeling, or whatever it was, Emilie still wasn’t sure, and the next hour and a half passed by without anyone raising an alarm. Emilie almost managed to convince herself that she was just being paranoid. Yet, as Matilda got further and further into the system, she just couldn’t accept the logical argument she was making. Yes, the sensors were detecting no threats, and everything was going according to her plan. The stealth ships and stealth recon drones she had pushed ahead of her fleet were also reporting their path was all clear. None of that could shake the growing feeling Emilie had. And now she was becoming more aware of what it was that was bothering her. The strangeness that had assaulted her when Matilda had first crossed the mass shadow was now developing into a sense of foreboding.

Something is wrong, she told herself. Very wrong. She had fought in over a hundred battles. By now, she knew she should have been filled with nerves and excitement. She was feeling neither. Most of her emotions simply felt cold, except for a sense something ominous was looming over her fleet, she felt lifeless. Summoning her mental strength, Emilie tried to shake the feeling she couldn’t explain. First, she thought of her senior commanders and staff officers. They were all highly trained, skilled warriors. Her confidence in them should have been able to keep her mind at ease. Yet, no sense of confidence would come.

Starting to panic that there was something wrong with her, Emilie changed tack. Forgetting about her fleet, her mind went to Mark and her son Daniel. The last time she had seen both of them was when she had been forced to say a quick goodbye before she had taken command of Matilda and the fleet her uncle had ordered to the Flex-aor homeworlds. Daniel had been crying, far too young to understand why his mother was leaving. It had broken her heart. Now however, she could barely remember how she felt. Emilie’s face whitened. Something was very wrong with her. You can’t lead the fleet like this, she told herself. If you can’t trust your emotions, you cannot command. Opening her mouth, Emilie began to give orders for the fleet to halt its advance. Yet, nothing happened. Though she felt her mouth moving, she heard no sound. Emilie’s hands went to her throat. It was like her vocal cords wouldn’t obey her. After rubbing her throat, she tried to speak again. Again, no sound came out. Panic assaulted her. She couldn’t give any orders! Desperately she looked around at her staff officers for help.

Roche was the first to notice her. Her Chief of Staff’s eyes casually passed over Emilie and then snapped back. Roche’s body then pulled as a look of horror passed over her face. “Admiral, are you all right?” Roche demanded, her voice rising sharply.

Emilie tried to speak, but still no words would come out. Instead, she tried to shake her head, only to find her neck now wouldn’t obey her either. Glancing down at her command chair, she tried to move a hand to type in order she wanted given. It wouldn’t leave her throat. Neither would the other. As her panic turned to terror, she felt her whole body starts to tremble. Think! She screamed at herself. Think! There must be some explanation. Thinking was hard however, with her emotions feeling deadened and her body not responding, dread was threatening to overwhelm her. This is not normal, Emilie said to herself, this is not normal, she repeated. What is happening to me? Who is doing this?

Suddenly, Emilie froze. Her body stopped trembling. Her mind sharpened. Who is doing this? She repeated, realization flooding upon her. It wasn’t a what, but who. And there was one immediate answer. Ala’ron is in the system! The Flex-aor High Queen was assaulting her mind, just as she had done to her uncle’s. At once, Emilie was aware of another presence within her mind. She could feel long, tentacle-like threads reaching from her out through Matilda towards the asteroid field. Emilie was now certain; Ala’ron was there, twisting her mind, despite still being more than a light hour away. And she began to do it as soon as we crossed the system’s mass shadow, Emilie realized. She had sensed it right away, even though she hadn’t understood what was happening. But if Ala’ron is here, that means she knows about our fleet, which means it is a trap!

Far from lessening the dread Emilie had been feeling, the realization of what was really going on only intensified it. Her fleet was heading into a trap, and there was nothing she could do about it! For a split second, Emilie came close to giving up. Then, rage began to build within her. She wasn’t going to allow the High Queen to kill her fleet and slaughter her people! She wasn’t going to be used as a puppet by a mass murderer who wanted to wipe her species out of existence! Remembering that James had spoken of being able to resist Ala’ron’s telepathy, Emilie summoned her rage and hurled it at the tentacle-like things she could mentally feel coiled around her body.

There was a brief moment where she felt like she was smashing her fist into the armor of a chieftain battle tank, but then it gave way. At once, she was aware of Ala’ron’s mind. She could feel everything the High Queen was doing to her body. The awareness of how thoroughly she was being violated caused Emilie’s rage to erupt to new heights. As if she was striking out with many fists at once, she assaulted every part of Ala’ron’s control she was aware of. Like tearing apart a spiderweb, she snapped every tentacle Ala’ron was holding her with.

As the last one vanished, Emilie became aware of Ala’ron herself. Completely abandoning any pretense at subterfuge, the High Queen’s mind pressed in on Emilie, trying to overwhelm and assert control over her. Emilie pushed back with all her anger. This time, as she thought of her commanders, staff officers and crew, her emotions flared into being. Her responsibility for them, her respect and concern for them gave her strength. Then, as her mind went to Mark and Daniel, her rage came to a boil. Ala’ron was not going to take them from her!

Mentally, she grabbed hold of the part of Ala’ron’s mind that was trying to force its will upon her and flung it out of Matilda and towards the asteroid field. For the briefest of seconds, Emilie found herself swirling amidst the High Queen’s own thoughts. She remembered James speaking of something similar, where he had been able to read her thoughts. Desperately, Emilie tried to steal some vital intelligence from the High Queen. She wanted to know where the High Queen’s tender ships were, or how many warships she had. As soon as she made the effort, Ala’ron’s mental strength slammed into her, trying to push her away. Emilie held on for less than a second. Yet, in that moment she got a picture. It was of a star map, with many of the locations of Flex-aor forces on it! She also got a sense of Ala’ron’s emotions. The High Queen was almost giddy, for her ambush was about to be sprung! Yet, Emilie sensed something else as well, another emotion she recognized. Then, Ala’ron slammed Emilie out of her mind.

Emilie’s eyes shot open; she hadn’t realized she had closed them! She found everyone on Matilda’s bridge staring at her. Roche was standing over her, shaking her shoulders. A massive sense of joy washed over her as she opened her mouth and found her voice. “It’s okay,” she croaked. Then, her voice hardened. “Reverse course immediately!” She ordered. “Do it, do it now. I’ll explain later. But reverse course, maximum speed.”

Before anyone could respond to her words, alarms began to blare all around them. “Many contact reports coming in!” Lieutenant Parker shouted over the noise.

“What bearing?” Captain Rodgers demanded.

When Parker looked up, his face was ashen. Emilie knew the answer before he said it. The taste of Ala’ron’s glee was still fresh in her mind. “Multiple bearings,” she said.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the holo display as it began to show the data coming from the gravimetric sensors. Six! Emilie thought with dismay. Ala’ron had six fleets hiding in the system. They weren’t arrayed in a perfect sphere around her fleet, but it was close. She was tracking our location through her telepathic link with me! Emilie felt even more violated.

“How?” Rodgers asked her voice barely above a whisper.

“Admiral, how did you know?” Roche followed up.

“Ala’ron is here,” Emilie said without turning from the holo display. She was desperately searching for an escape route. “She’s been here all along. Our scouts sighting of their tender ships, our easy passage into the system, it was all a set up. She was reading my mind, trying to control my body!” I knew something was wrong from the start! Emilie cursed herself for her stupidity. They were almost completely surrounded.

“What are your orders, Admiral?” Roche asked frantically.

Emilie shook her head. She had none yet. Though her fleet was reversing course, her fleet’s new trajectory was still taking it close to one of the Flex-aor fleets. It’s an almost perfect trap, Emilie thought as she assessed the attack angles of the six Flex-aor fleets. If Ala’ron had retained control of Emilie’s mind for another half an hour so, all six fleets could have attacked Emilie’s ships at once. Even now, as Emilie desperately sought for a way for her ships to escape, she couldn’t see a way to avoid engaging at least two of the fleets. And they will hammer us so hard the rest will easily catch us.

Each Flex-aor fleet had four hundred ships. With her superior technology, Emilie reckoned she could take on eight hundred of them and stand a chance of getting some of her fleet out intact, but a protracted battle would bring the rest into range. Emilie cursed again as she remembered the feeling Ala’ron had had just before their link had been severed. The Flex-aor High Queen had looked upon Emilie’s fleet as if it was some mindless prey from her homeworld that adolescent Flex-aor would trap and cage for fun.

The memory made Emilie’s rage boil again. “We are no prey!” She said out loud, causing Rodgers and Roche to turn to her. Emilie could feel their concern, but her gaze was still firmly fixed on the holo display. Her eyes widened when she realized what they had to do. She hated herself for even thinking it, yet it was only way to save the fleet. “That Flex-aor fleet there,” she said as she pointed to one of the groups of contacts. No one had labelled them yet. “Turn the fleet towards it. We’re not going to sit back and let them destroy us at will. If we are going to fight, it’s going to be on our terms. Maximum acceleration. Prepare all fighters for launch. We are going to blast ourselves an escape route right through them.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Roche responded, a firmness coming into her voice to match Emilie’s.

“Get me Tak’ar, Far’manlan and Wing Commander Jeffers,” Emilie requested.

Moments later and she was looking at holographic representations of her two senior Admirals and the commander of the fleets’ fighter wing. “I owe you all an apology,” she said hastily. “Ala’ron was trying to mess with my mind and lure us into her trap. It almost worked. Yet, we have a way out. We’re going to charge Sierra One and force the other Flex-aor fleets to chase us. Then, we will switch targets and close to energy weapon range. It will be costly, but less so than if they manage to force us into a protracted missile duel.”

“We understand, Tak’ar,” replied. “My ships are ready.”

“As are mine,” Far’manlan added.

Emilie nodded to each of them, and then turned to Jeffers. Her Wing Commander held up a hand. “There’s no need for a further apology, Admiral. I know what you are going to request. We would have it no other way. This is what we signed up for.”

Guilt shot through Emilie. Jeffers knew the odds. He knew what was about to happen to his fighters, yet he showed no sign of hesitation. Emilie couldn’t help her mind going to Georgia. The thought of losing her cousin, of having to tell James and Christine she was the one who had given the order, almost made her change her mind. Yet, she couldn’t, even if she tried, Jeffers wouldn’t let her. “Make sure your fighters know you go with the blessing of our fleet,” Emilie said slowly to Jeffers. “Tell them they do us all proud.” She wished she had stronger words, but none came to her.

“I will make sure they know, Admiral. As always, it has been an honor to serve with you.”

“The honor is ours,” Emilie replied. “I will send you the attack plan. We’ll try and split their point defenses to give you a better chance. Good luck, Commander.”

“And to you too, Admiral. Make sure you get our people out of this.”

“I will,” Emilie found herself promising.

When her command chair’s holo display deactivated, Emilie glanced at the bridge’s main display. Unsurprisingly, the Flex-aor had already reacted. Sierra One was trying to pull away from her fleet while the rest of the Flex-aor squadrons accelerated as they gave chase. That’s it, Emilie thought towards Sierra Three. Keep coming. Keep coming. As her fighters began to launch, she kept her eyes on Sierra Three, as much to keep her mind away from Georgia as to keep abreast of the situation.

Chapter 14

When the shooting starts much of the propaganda disappears, in the end each spacer, marine, or pilot, is fighting not for glory or honor, but for their brothers and sisters standing shoulder to shoulder with them.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“All right, listen up, Starlings,” Georgia said to her squadron after they launched from Archimedes and formed up. “This is as real as it gets. You joined the Flight Academy looking for action; well, now you’ve got it. The fleet is in trouble, serious trouble, and we’re the ones to get them out of it. I’m not going to lie to you, the odds are not in our favor. Make peace with that now and forget about it. Our goal is not to survive what’s about to come, but to sink our missiles into those capital ships. Nothing else matters. If we fail, hundreds of our ships and tens of thousands of people are going to die. Let’s take our fighters right into the heart of Sierra Three and show them just what Imperial pilots can do!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Starling Two replied with vigor.

“We will kick their slimy butts,” Starling Five added.

As every other pilot in her squadron felt they needed to respond, Georgia let them. She knew most of their words were bravado. None of them had seen active combat before. It was easy to remember how she had felt just before her first battle, partly because the same emotions were creeping up on her now. It was strange to think her first combat had been just six months ago in the New France system. Now, she was leading a full squadron. Leading us to our deaths, she couldn’t help telling herself.

Obeying her own advice, she took a moment to think of her parents and her siblings. It had been several years since they had all been together. She easily recalled the day. Jonathan had just finished his first assignment as a Sub Lieutenant and had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. Their parents had held a barbecue for close friends and family at Badminton House to celebrate. Then, after everyone had left, they had stayed in the Somerville’s’ historic home and went for a walk together around the grounds the next morning. The memory made Georgia smile. That is why you are fighting, she told herself. To give everyone in Emilie’s fleet the chance to make more such memories. And the rest of the Empire. She strongly suspected that the point of Ala’ron’s trap wasn’t just to destroy five hundred Imperial ships. Taking out Emilie’s fleet would open an avenue for a Flex-aor fleet to advance on several Imperial colonies.

“All squadron leaders check in,” Wing Commander Jeffers’ voice said over the command COM channel.

Georgia let herself enjoy the memory for one final moment and then pushed it away. “Starling Squadron ready,” she said when her turn came.

“All fighters, adjust your heading to seven three two point five,” Jeffers ordered over the general COM channel when every squadron was in position. As one, all two hundred and sixty fighters turned to face Sierra One and then lit off their engines. “Admiral Alveraz wished me to make sure you know she has considered it an honor to lead you all. As do I. Let us live up to the names of the pilots who forged the reputation of the Imperial Fighter Force in the Karacknid War.”

Georgia nodded, though she knew no one could see her. Jeffers’ words brought a number of famous fighter pilots to her mind. She had grown up hearing about them from her father and then, at the Flight Academy, she had studied each of their careers and battles intimately. Her hands clenched into fists. If this was how she was going to go out, she was determined to match their accomplishments.

For the next forty minutes, Georgia did her best to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. Her thoughts kept turning back to her family, but she quickly suppressed them each time. Finally, the order she had been waiting for came. “Attack Wing will change course onto heading three two four point one on my mark… mark!” Jeffers ordered.

As her Hellcat completed its maneuvers, Georgia glanced at her passive sensors. Emilie’s fleet was also completing its maneuvers. The noses of the Imperial, Varanni Alliance and Vestarian warships were now all pointed towards Sierra Three. Over the next five minutes, she watched as the Flex-aor reacted. Sierra One stopped trying to flee from Emilie’s fleet, while the rest of the Flex-aor fleets, bar Sierra Three, altered course to continue to try and get into missile range.

Sierra Three hesitated, either because it’s commander was waiting for instructions from whoever was commanding the entire Flex-aor force, or simply from indecision, three minutes passed before it started to reverse course away from Emilie’s fleet. Georgia had never scored the highest marks in her Astro navigation courses, yet she could clearly see that even if Sierra Three had reacted instantly, they wouldn’t be able to get out of energy weapon range of Emilie’s ships. The plan has been set, she thought to herself. Now, it’s time to play our part. Lifting her eyes from her sensors, she looked out ahead of her canopy towards the system’s third gas giant. Her Hellcat was currently accelerating straight towards it.

In the space of eight minutes, the planet rapidly grew larger in front of her. A small moon then appeared. As it began to grow larger as well, instinctively, Georgia reached up and made sure her breathing apparatus was securely attached to her helmet. Double-checking her automatic pilot had the proper instructions, she placed both her arms by her side. High G maneuvers had never been her favorite thing. Nevertheless, as all two hundred sixty fighters of Jeffers’ attack wing rushed towards the gas giant and its moon, Georgia kept her eyes open. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t help admiring the beauty of the gas giant. Blues and purples swirled around as giant storms moved across the planet’s atmosphere.

As soon as her Hellcat got close enough to the gas giant, its gravity began to pull on Georgia’s fighter. Then, as the moon rushed up towards her, its gravity also exerted a different pull. Georgia’s fingers twitched. She was flying so close to the moon that to her eyes, it looked like she was headed straight for it. Yet she had to trust her automatic pilot. Fifty kilometers, she told herself. That’s by how much she would miss the moon.

Her view suddenly changed as her autopilot twisted her fighter’s nose away from the moon, changing the direction of thrust from her main engine. Suddenly, Georgia’s body started to feel much heavier as g-forces compressed her back into her seat. Despite the increased thrum from her fighter’s inertial compensator, it quickly rose to the point where her vision started to close. Georgia fought it as long as she could, but just as the moon came back into view again, her eyes closed over and her mind quickly started to go fuzzy. Her flight suit, detecting she was about to lose consciousness, pumped a cocktail of drugs into her. It took half a second, but then Georgia felt them kick in.

Cracking her eyes slightly, she was just in time to see the moon pass by on her right side as her Hellcat finished orbiting it. Sling-shooting around the moon, her fighter quickly settled onto a new heading towards Sierra Three. Within seconds, the g-forces disappeared. Thanks to the gravity boost from the moon and gas giant, Jeffers’ fighter wing had even more momentum than before. You’re not escaping Emilie’s fleet and you’re not escaping us, Georgia thought towards Sierra Three.

As though her cousin was thinking the same thing, eight thousand new contacts suddenly appeared on the gravimetric plot from Emilie’s ships. The first salvo of mark VIIs were on their way. A second and third followed over the next twenty minutes as Emilie’s Hellcat continued to race towards Sierra Three. Then, finally, Sierra Three returned fire. Four thousand missiles locked onto the Allied fleet and began to accelerate.

“Attack wing is to reduce speed by one percent thrust in twenty seconds,” Jeffers ordered.

Georgia tapped her COM unit to acknowledge the order and then slowed her Hellcat at the appropriate time. Checking a secondary display, she saw their attack wing would enter point defensive range of the Flex-aor ships just five seconds after the first salvo of mark VIIs would be detonating. It was the best Emilie could do to give the attack wing a chance at striking Sierra Three and still be able to escape.

The next fourteen minutes passed slowly for Georgia. The Allied Fleet fired their first salvo of mark VIII missiles, and the Flex-aor their second salvo. The main display on Georgia’s Hellcat was now littered with tens of thousands of contacts. Yet, all she could do was watch. Georgia couldn’t help but feel for the pilots of her squadron. As bad as it was for her, it had to be worse for them. She was so focused on her pilots, Georgia almost jumped when the first point defensive fire erupted from the warships of Sierra Three. Taking a second to focus her mind, she reached forward and took her flight stick. “All right, Starlings, disengage autopilot. Begin evasive maneuvers. Let’s warm up before things get really serious.”

Matching actions to words, Georgia began to twist and weave her Hellcat. By now, she was able to carry out random jinks and twitches without having to think about it. Without any effort, she summoned the trance-like state that had come to her in her previous engagements. In front of her, the scene quickly turned to one of fire and explosions. Minutes ago, the first stage of the mark VII missiles had disengaged and released three smaller anti-matter missiles. Zooming in towards their targets, thousands of them were being blown apart by Flex-aor fire. There were so many detonations that the ships of Sierra Three were blocked from view. Instead, it seemed like her Hellcat was chasing a wall of fire.

Suddenly, the wall disappeared. In its place, large blue, rapidly expanding balls of anti-matter appeared. In the space of two seconds, at least thirty anti-matter detonations appeared in the midst of the Flex-aor fleet. Before Georgia had time to even think about assessing what damage had been done, Flex-aor point defensive laser beams started to zip past her fighter. It ratcheted up in intensity so quickly that for every second that went by, Georgia’s shock that she was still alive grew. In her peripheral vision she was conscious of larger explosions to her left and right. Each one meant one of her pilots was likely dead. Yet, Georgia didn’t even feel a flicker of guilt. Her focus was entirely on the Flex-aor capital ship that had been assigned as her primary target. She had to take it out; if she didn’t, the fleet would be in serious trouble.

As Allied fighters were destroyed, the fire focused on Georgia’s Hellcat kept intensifying. Sweat began to run down her forehead and back. At the start of the engagement, there had been enough Flex-aor warships for one warship to focus its entire point defensive fire on her Hellcat. That number had to have risen to two or even three. A beep from her fighter surprised her. She was so focused it took her a second to register what it meant. She had just entered range with her missiles! At once, she thumbed her main trigger. Two missiles raced away from her Hellcat.

Ordinarily, Georgia would pull her fighter up and away from the enemy ships as they focused their fire on her missiles. This time, she did no such thing. Every pilot in Jeffers’ attack wing knew the stakes. There would be no pulling back. Instead, she lowered her finger to her second trigger and began to fire hundreds of small plasma bolts. Focusing on the heavy cruiser that was her target, she raked it up and down with bolts even as she continued her evasive maneuvers. The bolts weren’t able to penetrate the warship’s armor. Yet, they did destroy sensitive antenna and point defensive weapon emplacements. Georgia didn’t care what she hit, as long as it distracted the heavy cruiser’s defensive gunners.

The sudden blaring of her shield made Georgia jump. Even so, her finger never came off her trigger. A second later, her shield flared again. The warning sound told her it was gone. Still, she didn’t let up. Only at the last second, just before her two missiles both struck home, did she pull up and away from the heavy cruiser. As she did, her canopy was filled with a blue haze as both missiles detonated. For a moment, Georgia feared the anti-matter would stretch out to reach her. But then, she zipped past the heavy cruiser and was gone.

Her ordeal wasn’t over yet; however; defensive fire continued to chase after her. The surviving Flex-aor warships, no doubt irate at the destruction she had brought, were trying to take her out. With no target to focus on and nothing but dark space in front of her, Georgia gave herself up entirely to her evasive maneuvers. She lost all track of time as she twisted and wove with all of her skill. When the defensive fire ceased, she didn’t realize, for nearly twenty seconds. With a start, she looked around to see no energy beams were zipping past her. Instead, she saw Imperial and Varanni Alliance fighters. So few, she thought to herself even as she was amazed she had made it. “Starling squadron, check in,” she requested, afraid of the silence that was about to greet her.”

“Starling Two here, Squadron Leader,” one voice answered.

“Starling seven here as well,” another said.

“Eleven here too, though I took a laser to my starboard wing, I’ve lost a third of my maneuvering thrusters.”

Georgia waited, willing more voices to speak up. The silence lengthened. Refusing to accept it, Georgia repeated her request. “Starlings, report in.” No one else spoke. The continuing silence made Georgia’s heart grew cold. In anger, she looked at her sensor display. Between the first salvo of ships from the Allied Fleet and her fighter attack, it looked like the Flex-aor had lost ninety ships, almost a quarter of their force. But at what price? Georgia asked herself. Another one of her displays told her there weren’t even a hundred fighters left of Jeffers’ attack wing. Even his fighter was missing.

“Listen up, pilots,” a voice Georgia was only partly familiar with said over the attack wing COM channel. “I think I’m the senior Squadron Leader left. Let’s alter course for the rendezvous coordinates. This has been a bloody day, but our part is done. Hold yourselves together, and we will share a drink for our fallen comrades once the fleet gets out of here.”

Georgia’s finger moved towards activating her COM unit to speak to her pilots. She knew they needed comfort as she did. Yet, no words came to her. Their losses had been devastating. Not just their losses, she told herself. Eight of her pilots were dead. She could picture every one of their faces. Your losses, Georgia told herself as tears began to run down her cheeks. She had been responsible for training them. She was the reason so few had survived.

*

Emilie wanted to shout and pump her fists. Only the fact that so many fighters had been lost kept her from doing so. Somehow, miraculously, Georgia’s fighter had survived the attack. Almost as significant, more than ninety of the Flex-aor warships from Sierra Three had been wiped out. The crucial number had been eighty-two. All the simulations Roche and her staff officers had ran suggested they needed to take out eighty-two for her fleet to be able to escape. Wing Commander Jeffers’ fighters had done it! But at such a cost, Emilie thought as she watched the few remaining fighters turn towards the rendezvous point.

For a moment, her mind went to Georgia. She could picture exactly how her cousin was feeling. In the Karacknid War, Emilie had lost her first command and nearly half her crew. The shame and guilt had nearly overwhelmed her. It had taken months for her to get over it. I will have to speak to her if we get out of this, Emilie promised herself. No, when we get out, she added sternly.

With an effort, Emilie forced her eyes away from Georgia’s fighter and refocused on Sierra Three. She had four more missile salvos closing with the Flex-aor fleet, and would be able to fire two more before her ships entered energy weapon range. The Flex-aor had fired two of their own, and would be able to fire two more as well. More concerning were Sierra Two and Five. Sierra Two would get to fire two salvos at Emilie’s ships and Sierra Five one before the Allied fleet reached the system’s mass shadow. It will be our turn to bleed soon, she thought as she watched the closest enemy missile salvo. The missiles in it broke apart, releasing between six and ten smaller missiles. Suddenly, a far larger swarm of enemy ordnance was homing in on Matilda.

Before the Allied Fleet opened up with their point defenses, they got to watch their second salvo of mark VII’s crash into Sierra Three. Forty-five ships were destroyed or crippled by the anti-matter missiles that reached their targets.

“Lancer corvettes are moving to engage,” Lieutenant Cao reported.

Trusting her staff officers and the Captains of all her ships, Emilie watched as the defense of her fleet began in earnest. First, the Lancer corvettes began to engage the incoming missiles. Taking up a position far in advance of her main formation, they destroyed hundreds of them and forced the rest to carryout evasive maneuvers, breaking up their formation.

Next, thousands of long-range AM missiles raced away from the Allied fleet. Many of them scored hits. Area effect weapons then filled space with flack explosions and balls of electricity. Finally, the defense plasma and laser cannons, and short-range AM missiles targeted individual Flex-aor missiles. Though thousands were destroyed, Emilie could see they weren’t disappearing quickly enough. She winced as thermonuclear detonations started to erupt within her fleet. Shields flared on the holo display as proximity hits bathed Allied ships in nuclear energy. Most survived the deadly energy, not all did.

“Multiple ships not responding,” Roche reported. “Dancer, Requiem, and Constantinople are gone. At least four other ships appeared to have suffered serious damage.”

“Launch rescue shuttles, abandon any ships that cannot keep in formation,” Emilie ordered. She could afford no sentimentality. Any ships that couldn’t keep up with Matilda had to be left behind. The Allied fleet could not slow down.

Over the next thirty minutes, Emilie could do nothing but rearrange the holes in her fleet’s formation every time a Flex-aor salvo struck home. Forty-six ships were destroyed or abandoned. In return, her salvos took out two hundred and sixty Flex-aor ships from Sierra Three. Jeffers’ fighter strike had weakened the point defensive capabilities of Sierra Three enough that each of Emilie’s salvos wreaked havoc.

Even so, Emilie discovered her fingers nervously tapping on her command chair after the last Flex-aor salvo was dealt with. With her ship still charging straight towards Sierra Three, they were about to enter energy weapon range. Let’s hope we have the technical advantage, she told herself. She would have loved to have had some Kalassai city ships with her. Their massive energy weapons would have long since been able to reach out and take out Flex-aor targets. Since first encountering them, the Imperial Navy had been trying to replicate the technology, yet it required levels of power that not even an Imperial Dreadnought could produce. That being said, the Navy’s antiship energy weapons had improved significantly over the last twenty years. “Fire!” Emilie ordered as soon as her ships entered range.

Immediately, hundreds of plasma bolts, laser beams and mass driver rounds were unleashed on the Flex-aor ships. Emilie’s whole body tightened as she expected Flex-aor return fire to strike at any second. Yet, none came. At least, her volley struck home first. Travelling at the speed of light, the laser beams were the first to hit their targets. Tens of Flex-aor ships simply disintegrated from the fire. The plasma bolts arrived a fraction of a second later, adding to the carnage, and then the mass driver rounds detonated just before reaching the Flex-aor fleet. They filled space with thousands of tungsten shards that, like shotgun pellets, ripped through what was left of the enemy warships.

For a brief second, Emilie thought her ships had completely destroyed Sierra Three, but then, Matilda’s sensors were able to peer through the explosions. At least twenty ships were still accelerating. The sudden flaring of shields and explosions amidst the Allied Fleet told her they had fired their own laser cannons. Only two ships were completely blown up, yet fifteen started to fall out of formation within seconds.

Emilie cursed. They’d all have to be abandoned. “All weapon systems can fire when ready,” she ordered. It took thirty seconds for her warship’s capacitors to recharge. As soon as they did, more beams, bolts and mass driver rounds smashed into the surviving Flex-aor. No ships made it through the second volley. Cheers went up around Matilda’s bridge. The path was now clear to the system’s mass shadow and the shift passage that would get them to safety.

Emilie didn’t join in. She had already turned her attention to Sierra Two and Five. Soon, they would get in range to fire their missiles. “We have to weather Sierra Two and Five’s attacks and then we can celebrate,” she said to her officers. “Stay focused. Prepare to engage their missiles when they come in.”

For the next half an hour, Emilie busied herself with evacuating the damaged ships and reassigning the rescued crews throughout the rest of her fleet. Then, Flex-aor missiles tried to ravage her fleet once again. The first salvo that came in from Sierra Two didn’t cause too much damage, just ten ships were lost or crippled. But, Sierra Two and Five were able to coordinate their final salvo, not perfectly, but enough that Emilie’s ships would have to engage both sets of missiles almost at the same time. The result was unavoidable. Many more missiles reached attack range. Even Matilda’s navigation officer had to throw the dreadnought into a series of evasive maneuvers as two missiles homed in on Emilie’s flagship. One was thrown off, yet the second managed to detonate just in front of Matilda. Everyone on the bridge was thrown around in their command chairs as Matilda’s shield absorbed much of the destructive energy and then failed. Alarms began to boom warnings of damage.

“We’re alright,” Matilda’s First Lieutenant called out. “Just minor damage reports coming in from the nose section. We’ve lost some armor and some point defense nodes. Nothing else.”

Relieved, Emilie’s attention immediately turned to the rest of the fleet. She swallowed hard as she saw many other ships had not been so fortunate. At least fifty were missing from her fleet. Another twenty-six were falling out of formation. Her eyes darted to the system’s mass shadow. They were just eight minutes away from it. Then, she turned back to the Flex-aor fleets, another missile salvo was already on its way and would reach her ships in fifteen minutes. “Scramble every rescue shuttle we have. Tell our frigates to decelerate and stay with our damaged ships. I want every single person taken off before we jump out.”

Amazingly, in no small part thanks to the herculean efforts of Emilie’s command staff as they coordinated evacuations, the crew of every crippled ship was reached. Emilie refused to jump out until the last shuttle landed on the last freighter. The Flex-aor missiles got to within thirty seconds of being able to detonate when Emilie finally gave the order to jump.

In the blink of an eye, her fleet disappeared from the Z-16 system. As soon as they were in shift space, Emilie collapsed back into her command chair. Her body ached from the tension. She closed her eyes for a second as she thought of all the ships that had been lost. She had entered the system with five hundred, and was now leaving with three hundred and eighty-six. Yes, she had destroyed four hundred Flex-aor ships, yet it didn’t make her feel any better.

“We did it, Admiral!” Roche said as Emilie opened her eyes and looked around again. “We made it!”

Emilie grimaced at her Chief of Staff. “We did, and the fleet did well. But I have let us all down. We never should have been trapped so easily.”

“You cannot blame yourself, Admiral,” Rodgers insisted. “How were we to know Ala’ron would be in the system, let alone that she could have manipulated you like she did?”

“We should have been prepared for the possibility,” Emilie replied, not willing to let herself off the hook. “We know she did it at Hiva’non. We should have been prepared for it to happen here. From now on in, we need to assume she is with the Flex-aor fleet every time we fight them.”

“But you realized what Ala’ron was doing before we were trapped, and we escaped,” Roche reminded Emilie. “It could have been much worse.”

Reluctantly, Emilie nodded, her Chief of Staff was certainly right on that count. It could have been much worse. She could still feel the giddiness Ala’ron had felt when the High Queen had thought Emilie’s fleet completely trapped. Not this time, she thought towards the creature that had invaded her mind. The memory of what had happened sent a shiver down her back. But then, she remembered the map she had sensed from Ala’ron’s mind! Quickly, Emilie pulled up a blank star map of local space and began to enter data on it. For more than five minutes, she put in everything she could remember. As she worked, she sensed the bridge growing quiet around her. She could feel everyone watching her. Only when she was finished did she look up. With a tap, she projected the map onto the main holo display.

“What is this?” Roche asked, confusion filling her voice. “Those are not our ships’ positions.”

“No, they certainly aren’t,” Emilie agreed. “Just before I managed to break Ala’ron’s telepathic connection, I tried to read her thoughts. This is what I got.”

“The positions of the Flex-aor fleets?” Rodgers asked as his voice rose.

Emilie shook her head. “Not exactly. Ala’ron sensed what I was trying to do. This is a map she wanted me to see. I am sure of it, for just as I saw this, I could also feel another emotion from her. It was deception. This is a fake.”

“A fake, but how can that help us?” Roche asked.

“Here, this sector,” Emilie said as she pointed at a blank part of the map that was not very far from the defensive line Admiral Becket was setting up along the Empire’s south-eastern border. “Ala’ron wanted me to think there were no ships here.” A smile spread across Emilie’s face as she studied the map. The day had been a disaster, yet perhaps not a complete one. “We need to dispatch scout ships to this region immediately, and send other fast frigates to Admiral Becket. She needs to be warned.”

“Right away, Admiral,” Roche asked. She paused before she turned to carry out the orders. “And what about us?”

Emilie turned to her Chief of Staff, her smile fading as determination filled her. “We are going to take every ship we have that is up to the journey and put ourselves right behind whatever Flex-aor ships are there. We can’t get back the people and ships we lost today, but we can get revenge for their deaths. Admiral Becket can be the hammer and we will be the anvil on which we’re going to smash whatever fleet Ala’ron thinks is going to attack our worlds.” The tone of Emilie’s voice made Roche, Rodgers, and her other staff officers’ faces harden as they nodded in agreement. “Now, let’s be about it,” she ordered. “The hunt is not over yet.”

Chapter 15

The Silizzeras have a lot to answer for; numerous wars and many millions, if not billions of sentients have died as a result of their shadow wars. To this day, the true cost is still unknown.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, 3rd September 2509 AD, (one week later).

Within seconds of Achilles jumping out of shift space, three contacts appeared on her gravimetric sensors. Lydia’s sensor console sounded an alert to ensure everyone’s attention was drawn to them. Jonathan’s teeth clenched together. He didn’t need to wait for confirmation from the ship’s computer to know who they were. The three contacts were heading towards the same shift passage he had been about to order Achilles towards. From their line of travel, it looked like they had come from the general area of space the Farvul’vian colony had been in. “The Eaglaton ships,” he said, anger filling his voice. “They are headed for the Gift.”

“Computer confirms it, Captain,” Lydia said moments later. “They are the same three contacts we watched enter the Farvul’vian system.”

“What are your orders, Captain?” Cortez asked.

Jonathan didn’t hesitate. From their analysis of the visual data they had collected from Farvul’vian, he knew the two warships were about the size of Imperial light cruisers. The larger ship, the one with the ability to produce gravimetric anti-eddies, was closer to a battleship. Though he had no idea how powerful their weapons were, it changed nothing. “Put us onto an intercept course, maximum acceleration.”

Jonathan’s words immediately changed the mood on the bridge. Since their fortuitous meeting with Captain McMasters, they had been rushing towards the Gift. Every one of Jonathan’s officers had been working non-stop to ensure Achilles could maintain her maximum speed. It had been an exciting technical challenge. With one command, that disappeared. They knew their Captain’s resolve and the stakes at play.

“Right away, Captain,” Cortez replied, her tone matching Jonathan’s.

“Going to maximum thrust,” Scholes said at once. A single tap on his command console got Achilles moving forward. He then began to work at his controls further. On the holo display, projected courses appeared. “We will catch them just before they can reach the system’s mass shadow,” Scholes reported. “Assuming they can jump out the same distance from the system’s gravity well that they jumped into Farvul’vian.”

“Which may not be the case,” Lydia responded. “In Farvul’vian, they jumped in with other Protectorate ships. They may be able to jump out sooner then.”

“They may,” Jonathan agreed. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. They will know we are chasing them, and equally, we know where they are going. We’ll catch them here or in the next system. They will not escape us.”

“It looks like they’ve picked up our gravimetric waves,” Lieutenant Schmidt said from his tactical console. “Look, they are increasing their velocity by a few percentage points.”

Jonathan nodded. Whoever was in charge of the small flotilla realized Jonathan knew where they were headed. Unless they were going to turn back from travelling to the Gift, there was nowhere to hide.

“Shall we increase our acceleration?” Cortez suggested. “We could probably run at one hundred and two or three percent for an hour or two with minimum risk.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, if we damage an engine, they could get to the Gift before us. They are still two weeks away. We will bring them into missile range before then. “Send the crew for an early lunch. Make sure everyone is fed. If they decide to fight, it may be a long engagement,” Jonathan ordered. With no way of knowing how powerful the alien ships’ weapons were, he would have to be careful. Simply rushing in to attack all three ships could get Achilles destroyed very quickly. As Cortez began to give orders to be passed onto the rest of Achilles’ crew, Jonathan studied the sensor readings coming in from the rest of the system. Three to one odds were not great, even if Achilles ended up having the tech advantage. He needed to find an edge.

Half an hour later, and Rutherford surprised everyone as his head snapped up from his console. “We’ve just received a communication from those ships!” He said as he spun round, his eyes wide.

Jonathan was just as astonished. It took him a moment to process what was happening. “Well, we better hear it,” he said as he gave himself a shake.

When the holo display changed, it showed an alien Jonathan hadn’t seen before. Regal, was his immediate impression. The alien had a small thin face, dominated by a large yellow beak, it’s body was a mixture of thick hairs and feathers. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the combination of how the alien looked and how it was sitting in its command chair just gave off the impression of someone of importance. The closest thing Jonathan had experienced before was when he had first seen his mother sit on her throne to receive foreign dignitaries. In an instant, she had been transformed in his eyes. The alien didn’t quite impress as much as his mother had, but it was close.

“Human ship, I am Commodore Gifosous of the Eaglaton Defense Fleet. My sensors inform me you are the same ship that visited the Farvul’vian system. Achilles, are you not? If so, then you have heard of the Eaglaton Protectorate. Why then are you pursuing my ships? State your intentions.”

“Play it again,” Jonathan requested when the short visual message ended. “How long would a reply take to reach them?” He asked after watching Gifosous for a second time.

“Ten minutes, Captain,” Rutherford answered.

Jonathan nodded. “So, these are the infamous Eaglatons. What do you make of this message?” He asked as he glanced from Cortez to Lydia.

“A ploy to distract us,” Lydia suggested. “Maybe they think they can turn us back.”

“Maybe they don’t realize we know about what their larger ship can do,” Cortez said. “Though they have to know we are suspicious of them, given how we left the Farvul’vian system. They’re probably trying to figure out what we’re doing here.”

“Well, let’s not beat about the bush with them,” Jonathan decided. “Record and send this,” he said as he gestured to Rutherford. “Commodore Gifosous, I am sorry we are not meeting under better circumstances. However, I have come to learn that a species has been spreading malicious lies about my people and our Empire. As you clearly know about Humanity and Achilles, I fear you are either the ones who have spread these mistruths, or you have been misled by them. Whatever the truth of the matter, I know your Eaglaton Protectorate has been preparing to launch an unprovoked attack against my Empire and our allies.

“I also know the capabilities of your ship and your purpose. Let me warn you that your intentions have already been made known to my senior commanders. You are approaching systems the Human Empire considers part of our territory. You will not be allowed access to them, nor especially to the Gift. You will not be able to do anything to our wormhole. I do not know why you chose to make enemies of us, but we will defend ourselves if attacked. Turn back now from your misguided intentions, and our ships will not have to fight one another.”

With Achilles slowly gaining on the Eaglaton ships, it took just under twenty minutes for another message to come back. “Your lies are impressive, Captain, at least in their consistency. However, you will not dissuade me. I have a mission to accomplish. You and your Empire are a threat to everything the Eaglaton Protectorate stands for. I am sorry you have learned of our true intentions, even as I am impressed that you have deduced what I have planned. I know the capabilities of your ship, and while they are impressive, you are no match for my three ships. Turn back now, and you need not lose your life and the lives of your crew. I would take no pleasure in ordering the destruction of your ship. Conquerors and enslavers your species may be, but I desire to see no more of your people die than is strictly necessary.”

Jonathan shook his head at the message. Gifosous’ words seemed contradictory. One moment, the Eaglaton Commodore’s tone seemed almost friendly, yet he was speaking of closing the Gift and opening the way for Admiral Lvant’s fleet to attack Bastion and the Conclave Alliance systems. “It is you who does not have to do this,” Jonathan replied. “Your species has been lied to. We are not conquerors, but liberators of species who have been attacked and conquered by the Karacknids. Your species and your allies are the ones who are about to become the aggressors. Turn back now, or I will be forced to interpret your actions as an act of war and act accordingly.”

“No matter how flattering your words, you will not be able to dissuade me, Captain,” Gifosous said. “I have my orders, and I will carry them out. Your species has brought this upon yourselves. Try to close with my ships, and I will interpret your actions as an act of war.”

“But what if you have been lied to?” Jonathan asked, a hint of desperation entering his voice. It was clear Gifosous thought himself in the right.

In his reply, Gifosous’ beak parted in what looked like a smile. “I assure you, my species has received our information on your Empire from a very trustworthy source. But, if it does prove to be wrong, and your species is what you claim, then that is something those far more important than you or I will have to sort out. I have my orders and my duty, and it seems you believe you have yours as well. Very well, Captain, it seems our fates are sealed. Whatever becomes of us, at least we can agree on this, we are each fighting for a worthy cause.” To Jonathan’s surprise, Gifosous brought a feathered hand up to his chest and then leaned over and bowed to him.

Jonathan looked from Cortez to Lydia. He didn’t know how to respond. He had grown up reading mythical stories of chivalrous knights from the Middle Ages, or samurai from Japan who fought one another with respect and honor, despite being strong enemies. The regal atmosphere Gifosous gave off, combined with his words, almost made Jonathan feel like the bad guy. But I’m not the one about to launch an unprovoked attack, he said to himself forcefully.

“You speak of duty, Commodore,” Jonathan said, anger starting to creep into his voice. “That is something my species, and particularly my family, understand well. Yet, I’ve been taught that there is more to being a naval officer and a protector of our species than simply obeying orders. One’s duty requires that an officer put the moral good ahead of his own life, and even at times, his own duty. You’re about to start a war that could lead to the deaths of hundreds of thousands, if not millions. A war based on false intelligence. I do not know who has told your Protectorate that Humanity is a threat to you, but I give you my word, we are not.”

When his reply came, Gifosous looked even more serious than he had before. “Almost, you would persuade me, Captain. Yet, I have been warned that your species are masters at deception. It matters not in any case. Our paths have already been chosen for us. If you intend to pursue us, then our fates are already set. There’s no point wasting any more time on words. Our skill will determine what is to come next.”

Jonathan slammed a fist into his command chair. “Send the crew to battlestations,” he ordered when he saw all of Achilles’ bridge officers staring at him.

“Maybe we could transmit more of our historical data to him?” Lydia asked. “He sounds more reasonable than Admiral Lvant. And if the Eaglatons are the senior species in their Protectorate, then maybe he has more of an open mind.”

Jonathan shook his head. He recognized Gifosous’ tone. It was the same one his father had when he was certain he was in the right. “It will do us no good,” he said to Lydia. “Someone has set the Eaglaton Protectorate against us, and I fear words will not turn them back.” And if we don’t stop them closing the Gift, there will be nothing Rear Admiral Salamanca can do to turn them back, either, Jonathan feared. For if the Eaglaton Protectorate did plan to attack the Conclave worlds, possibly even under the impression they were liberating them, Gifosous’ tone suggested they had the resolve to see it through. And then they would learn they had been lied to, too late. For by then, they would have had to crush the Conclave fleet, leaving the entire sector open to Karacknid invasion.

“So then, we will stop them,” Lydia said confidently.

Lydia’s tone drew Jonathan out of his brooding. He nodded confidently, though he felt very little of it inside. “You’re right, Lieutenant, we will. Words may not dissuade these Eaglatons, but Achilles’ weapons certainly will. Let us make our final preparations.”

As soon as his crew were at their battle stations, Jonathan ran them through a number of drills to prepare them. Then, he returned to watching the three Eaglaton ships. Since talking to Gifosous, they hadn’t altered their course. As more time passed, it looked increasingly like they would reach the system’s mass shadow and jump out before Achilles could bring them to battle. A part of Jonathan wanted them to turn. If there was going to be a battle, he wanted it now, not days away in the next system. Power spikes from the Eaglaton ships as they passed the point where Achilles could have jumped to shift space indicated to Jonathan that he was going to be disappointed. He sat forward, however. Achilles was only detecting two power spikes. One of the smaller Eaglaton ships was not preparing its shift drive. Sure enough, minutes later, two of the ships disappeared. The third began to decelerate as it turned to face Achilles.

“It looks like we are going to have a fight after all,” Jonathan said to his officers. “And a fair one at that!” He had been worried about having to face three ships; now he only had to worry about one. Yet, the two other ships jumping out didn’t exactly put Jonathan’s mind at ease. If Gifosous had been telling the truth and the Eaglaton navy was familiar with the capabilities of Imperial warships, then it didn’t bode well that they were confident enough to just send one ship against Achilles. Perhaps they don’t want to risk their larger ship, he told himself. Or Gifosous think he needs the other light cruiser to escort his larger ship to the Gift. Jonathan hoped either was the case. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

“Missile launches!” Schmidt reported, surprise filling his voice. “Tracking twelve contacts inbound!”

Jonathan fought and failed to keep the shock from his face. The Eaglaton ship had opened fire at a thirty percent greater range, greater than even his mark VIIs could. As more than one officer turned to him, Jonathan quickly got his emotions under control. He opened his mouth to reassure his officer, Rutherford spoke before he could, however. “We are getting another communication from them.” Jonathan gestured for it to be put on the holo display.

“Captain Somerville, I am Captain Honras. This is your final warning, turn around and I will abort my missiles. Continue on, and we will destroy you.”

James couldn’t help but grin at the situation. “They certainly are cordial, if nothing else.” He’d never heard of two combatants exchanging so many pleasantries before battle.

“Should we say anything in response, Captain?” Rutherford asked.

“There’s no need,” Jonathan said as he shook his head. “We maintain our course. That is answer enough.”

“Shall we deploy our point defense drones?” Cortez asked.

“Yes, do so now, and launch an extra spread of recon drones. I want that light cruiser surrounded by them in case they have any other tricks up their sleeve,” Jonathan ordered. As his crew prepared Achilles’ defenses, Jonathan watched the Eaglaton light cruiser. Its first missile salvo was still thirty minutes away from entering range of Achilles’ point defenses. Achilles was also seven minutes away from being able to open fire with her multistage missiles. The question was, how soon would the Eaglaton warship be able to fire again? It’s rate of fire would be one factor that would determine the outcome of the battle.

When six minutes passed and the ship hadn’t fired, unconsciously, Jonathan began to hold his breath. Achilles could fire every six minutes, every second the Eaglaton delayed meant his ship had an advantage. Just as he counted to sixty seconds, twelve more contacts appeared on the gravimetric plot. One advantage to us, Jonathan thought. It was small, but still significant. “Open fire as soon as we come into range,” he ordered. “Then alter our heading to one three nine point two. Let’s keep them at arm’s length until we know just how effective their missiles are.” Achilles had the momentum and acceleration advantage, and Jonathan intended to use it.

“Firing,” Schmidt announced as soon as he was able. Once the nine mark VII missiles were launched from Achilles tubes, the destroyer began to alter course.

“The Eaglaton ship is responding to our maneuver,” Lydia reported.

Jonathan nodded to her. He watched the Eaglaton light cruiser for several seconds, then began to give commands for Achilles to change course again. Honras was trying to bring his ship closer to Achilles. Over the next twenty minutes, a game of cat and mouse developed as Jonathan and Honras kept maneuvering their ships. All the while, more salvos of missiles were fired out into space from both ships.

“Our point defenses will be able to open fire in thirty seconds,” Schmidt reported.

“Keep us steady then, except for standard evasive maneuvers,” Jonathan ordered. Too many significant course changes at this stage would only throw off the tracking his gunners had on the incoming missiles. And now we see just how effective these long-range missiles are, he thought to himself. With luck, the Eaglatons had sacrificed the missiles’ payloads and ECM in order to get such a range on them.

Moments later, point defensive weapons began to be hurled from Achilles and the two PD drones at the Eaglaton missiles. Immediately, the Eaglaton missiles became fuzzy on the main holo plot as their ECM kicked in. Then, they began to carry out wild evasive maneuvers. Jonathan released a small sigh of relief when the missiles didn’t break apart to release additional warheads. At least they weren’t multistage missiles. For a second, his concern began to grow when none of his gunners scored any hits. Then, one missile was hit by a flak cannon round and ripped apart. A second quickly disappeared to a long-range AM missile. Two more detonated as they were hit by plasma bolts or laser beams.

We’re doing it, Jonathan thought. Then he froze. All at once, the missiles stopped their evasive maneuvers. Jonathan recognized what was happening instantly. Before he could open his mouth to shout a warning, the remaining eight missiles detonated. In a flash, their explosive power was turned into an energy beam. Moving at the speed of light, the eight beams flashed towards Achilles. At the same time, Jonathan saw his destroyer’s shields flare and felt at least two shockwaves pulsate up his command chair. Alarms from different consoles went off all around him. “Bomb-pumped lasers!” Jonathan managed to say, far too late, and with a sinking voice, his ship had just been hurt!

Chapter 16

Despite their small size compared to modern warships, Imperial warships of the First and Second Karacknid War eras had rather large crews. Much of the work we now automate was done manually. Sadly, it meant that even on small ships the loss of life suffered when ships took damage could be high.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“I want damage assessments immediately,” Jonathan demanded as he pulled himself together. “What is the condition of our shield?”

“It’s lost nearly sixty percent of its strength,” Lydia reported moments later as the alarms began to be silenced.

Jonathan cursed. The gaseous shield was designed primarily to protect against Karacknid anti-matter warheads. Yet, they helped reduce the destructive force of most directed energy weapons. If sixty percent of the ionized atoms that made up the shield were gone, a lot of energy had been directed at Achilles. “Try and recharge it as much as possible,” he requested, then he turned to Cortez.

“We’ve taken two hits, Captain. It looks like they were grazer rather than laser beams. The shields have helped, but starboard missile tubes five and six are not reporting in. Port missile tube five is also not responding. One of the hits may have pierced right through the ship. We also took more of a glancing blow near our nose section. A number of sensor antennae and PD emplacements are unresponsive.”

“Get repair teams to those missile tubes at once,” Jonathan responded. “Navigation, roll the ship, present our port side for the next incoming salvo. And prepare extreme evasive maneuvers. We were almost sitting ducks!”

“Aye, Captain,” Cortez and then Scholes said one after the other.

Jonathan grimaced as he looked back to the holo plot and at the next salvo of Eaglaton missiles. They would be attacking Achilles far too soon. “What kind of warheads did those missiles have?”

“Thermonuclear,” Schmidt reported at once. “Each missile fired just one grazer beam. It took two seconds for them to reach us.”

Jonathan nodded. They had been caught off guard. His own bomb-pumped mark VIII missiles were programmed to detonate at a distance where their three lasers would cover the distance to their target almost instantaneously. Doing so dramatically increased their chances of scoring a direct hit. On the other hand, the Eaglatons had fired so early, they had been lucky to score two hits. But it was not luck, Jonathan was sure, they knew we wouldn’t expect it.

Before he could watch and see how his own missiles fared, Achilles had to defend herself from another attack. “Push our PD drones further out so they can engage the Eaglaton missiles sooner,” Jonathan ordered. It would reduce the effectiveness that came from overlapping Achilles’ and the drone’s fire, but forcing the Eaglaton missiles to begin their evasive maneuvers sooner would spread them out more and reduce how effectively they could combine their own fire. “Begin serious evasive maneuvers two seconds before the missiles detonated last time,” he added, in case the Eaglatons tried to detonate their missiles even sooner.

As the PD drones and then Achilles opened fire once again, Jonathan couldn’t help it as his body tensed up. Another grazer beam could rip into his ship at any moment. Losing three missile tubes was bad, but it could have been a lot worse. This time, five of the Eaglaton missiles were destroyed in quick succession. Then, Jonathan felt his restraints tighten as Scholes increased Achille’s evasive maneuvers. Though the accuracy of Achilles’ defensive fire was reduced by the maneuvers as well, two more missiles were taken out. The Eaglaton missiles then passed the point where the first salvo had detonated. They flew on for one more second with one more being destroyed. In a flash, the remaining four detonated and sent their beams lancing towards Achilles. The destroyer’s shields didn’t flare, nor did any vibrations run through the bridge.

“They missed!” Schmidt announced, sounding as relieved as Jonathan felt.

We have a chance! Jonathan thought as his hands tightened into fists. Honras had the advantage in missile numbers, especially now due to Achilles’ damage. But the Eaglatons had been lucky in the first salvo. If our missiles can get through, we might be able to survive long enough to hammer them to smithereens! “Get ready to fire again,” Jonathan instructed.

Less than twenty seconds later, Achilles fired another eight missiles towards the Eaglaton light cruiser. Then Jonathan’s first salvo disengaged their first stages and each missile released three smaller missiles. Four minutes later and all twenty-seven of them came into range of the Eaglaton’s point defenses. One by one, they began to be picked off. Jonathan moved closer to the edge of his seat. They weren’t being destroyed nearly quickly enough. Four were still left when they got so close to the light cruiser that the gravimetric plot couldn’t distinguish between them. Jonathan almost pumped a fist into the air, sure that even one direct hit would cripple the Eaglaton ship. Yet, when the four missiles disappeared, Honras’ ship continued on. Jonathan’s mouth fell open. He swung round to his officers. “How is that possible?” He demanded.

No one answered. Instead, they turned to one another and then looked down to their consoles. Ten seconds later, when electromagnetic energy from the Eaglaton ship reached them, Lydia looked up. “It was their ECM,” Lydia said as she pointed to a secondary display. Look at that spike in energy. Their ship’s ECM is even better than their missiles’.’

Though it wasn’t good news, Jonathan nodded. “Impressive, but it could be worse.” He had feared the Eaglatons had some new technology they wouldn’t even be able to figure out. His officers were intensely familiar with counteracting powerful ECM. “Analyze the readings and transmit updated targeting data to our next salvo. I want to do better next time.”

“At once, Captain,” Lydia responded.

“How are our missile magazines looking?” Jonathan asked Schmidt.

“That was our fifth salvo of mark VIIs,” Achilles’ tactical officer answered immediately. “We are about to switch to mark VIIIs. We have enough for twenty salvos of them, then we can switch back to VIIs if need be. We’ll have another ten salvos of them.”

“Let’s hope we don’t need them,” Jonathan half-whispered as he turned back to look at the Eaglaton warship on the holo display and he wondered how many missiles she carried. It seemed Honras’s light cruiser and Achilles were evenly matched. It was going to be a battle of attrition. “How long until port missile tube five is back operational?” Jonathan asked next.

“Chief O’Neill thinks he can have it operational again in twenty minutes, Captain,” Cortez replied.

“Tell him to work as fast as he can, getting that missile tube firing again may be what wins us this battle,” Jonathan ordered.

Just as he suspected, something close to a stalemate developed. As salvo after salvo crashed into their targets, both ships weathered most of what was thrown at them. Achilles’ point defenses and evasive maneuvers made it very difficult for the Eaglaton missiles to score hits, though twice over the next forty minutes, grazer beams slammed into Achilles’ shields. Thankfully, both only caused minor damage. Honras’ ship’s ECM continued to prove effective, despite Schmidt’s best attempts to give his missiles a better chance at scoring a hit.

More than one officer shouted in victory when an anti-matter warhead from the fourth salvo of mark VIIs got close enough to score a proximity hit. Though it was only a small amount, some of the anti-matter from the warhead’s detonation crashed into the light cruiser. Yet somehow, it appeared to brush off the damage. Visuals showed its hull was badly marked and a number of point defensive modes were gone. Yet, when the fifth salvo of mark VIIs came in, the cruiser didn’t appear to have any difficulty dealing with them.

“Now we will see,” Cortez said as the first mark VIIIs came near the Eaglaton ship. Jonathan hoped her confidence would prove true. He had his doubts, however. Sure enough, nearly thirty seconds before the bomb pumped laser warheads of the mark VIIIs got close enough to detonate, the ECM from the Eaglaton ship massively ramped up. “They know what our mark VIIIs can do!” Cortez said, more than a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“They have been preparing to fight us,” Jonathan reminded her. It made sense that the Eaglatons had researched Imperial weapons and tactics. As he watched, two more missiles were shot down by the Eaglaton defensive fire. Then the remaining four mark VIIIs detonated and sent twelve laser beams towards the Eaglaton light cruiser. To Jonathan’s surprise, an energy flare appeared on the Eaglaton ship’s hull.

“We got a hit!” Schmidt called out. “Looks like a glancing blow. But it was a hit!”

Jonathan shared his tactical officer’s smile. Even a glancing hit had to have caused some damage. “We can win this,” he said to his officers. “We just need to keep hitting them. Let’s get them with the next one.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Schmidt replied.

Jonathan nodded to him, and then glanced at Cortez. The worry in her eyes told him she was thinking along the same lines he was. Their priority was to overtake or destroy the larger Eaglaton warship. Honras didn’t have to destroy Achilles to win. All he has to do is force us to shoot ourselves dry, Jonathan thought. Which means we have to destroy him first. And faster than we are at the moment.

Closing his eyes, Jonathan tried to reassess their situation and look at the battle from another angle. The problem was the Eaglatons’ ECM. If they could overcome it, Achilles had more than enough firepower to finish the battle in one or two salvos. An idea began to form in Jonathan’s mind. Maybe if we give up hitting the light cruiser directly... Suddenly, Jonathan was thrown about in his command chair. His eyes snapped open. Achilles had been hit again! Alarms were blaring all around the bridge once more.

“It wasn’t a glancing blow this time,” Cortez reported grimly. “I’ve got damage reports coming in from at least four decks.” She looked up from her command chair towards Jonathan. “Port tube five isn’t responding once again.”

Jonathan cursed. O’Neill had just got the tube fixed and they’d managed to fire one missile from it. “What about our reactors and engines? It feels like we have lost some acceleration.”

Cortez shook her head. “No word back yet, Captain. But the damaged decks are near our main power lines.”

“I have visuals of the hull,” Lydia said as the holo display changed.

Jonathan’s heart sank when he saw the image. Port tube five was gone, melted to slag. So too was a sizeable portion of Achilles’ armor around the tube. There was a gaping hole about ten meters wide. As the drone moved over the hole, Jonathan could see down at least three decks. Several fires were burning as some atmosphere was still escaping.

“We must have lost at least ten percent of our port point defenses,” Jonathan estimated as he judged her far out the blast had caused damage. The glancing blows Achilles already suffered had taken out ten percent as well. His destroyer’s defenses were becoming seriously compromised.

“I’m getting reports from our engine technicians,” Cortex said. “Impulse engine two is down. Its power line has been cut. They’re working to get the auxiliary lines functioning, but some of them have taken damage as well. They can’t give me an estimate as to when they will have it working again.”

“And our reactors?” Jonathan asked through gritted teeth.

“They are all operating within normal parameters, Captain,” Cortez replied. “That’s something, I guess.”

“The Eaglaton cruiser is altering course!” Schmidt reported. “It’s turning to close with us.”

Jonathan cursed again. They were in trouble. With so many point defenses lost, the battle was no longer a stalemate. Honras had the advantage. They must have more powerful missiles with a shorter range, Jonathan guessed. They were moving in for the kill and he could no longer keep them at extreme range. I need to do something! “What about hangar bay one? What condition is it in?” Jonathan asked quickly as the idea he had just before being hit came back to him. He held his breath. The damaged power lines ran close to the hangar bay.

“We’ve lost power to it,” Cortez replied at once. “O’Neill has a repair team making their way to check on the crew there, but we have had no word from them yet.” Jonathan screwed up his face. “What is it?” Cortez asked.

“I had an idea,” Jonathan said as he shook his head. “We could have released several salvos worth of mark VIIs and let their engines propel them towards the Eaglaton ship. If they detonated together and created a wave of anti-matter, the Eaglaton ECM wouldn’t been able to protect them.” Jonathan cursed for a third time. He was out of options. They were going to lose. Desperately, his eyes turned to a secondary holo display showing the wider system Achilles was in.

After a few seconds, a nearby asteroid field caught his eye. Having studied the system carefully before the battle had begun, he was quite familiar with it. Yet, he hadn’t noticed how close Achilles had moved to it with all of her maneuvers. “Alter our heading,” Jonathan ordered at once. “Take us towards this asteroid field with the best acceleration we have,” he ordered.

“Altering course, Captain,” Scholes responded.

“What are you thinking?” Cortez asked.

Jonathan only half turned to Cortez; he was now watching the successive waves of Eaglaton missiles that were in space accelerating towards Achilles. “We can’t win this if we keep fighting as we have been. We are down missiles and point defenses. But maybe in the asteroid field we can take away some of their advantages. Even damaged, Achilles is very maneuverable. Let’s see if they can keep up with us in there.” Cortez nodded, though from the look on her face, Jonathan could tell what she was thinking. It was a long shot. He knew that, but they needed to try something. Especially if Honras had more powerful missiles he was soon to fire.

For a second, Jonathan considered surrendering. It was only a hunch, but he felt Honras would accept his surrender, and would probably treat Jonathan’s crew well. Yet surrendering would be giving up and failing to stop Gifosous’ ship from reaching the Gift and messing with the wormhole. Jonathan’s teeth clenched together again. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to risk Achilles and his crew. The stakes were too high to simply give up.

As Achilles turned and raced as fast as she could towards the asteroid field, Jonathan racked his brain as he tried to think of a way to win that battle. As he thought, Achilles fended off two more Eaglaton salvos. The second scored another glancing hit with one of its grazer beams.

“That is our shield completely gone,” Lydia reported. “We have no more reserve ionized particles.” She didn’t have to add what the depletion of Achilles’ shield meant. Even a glancing blow would now cause serious damage.

Jonathan struck his command chair with a clenched fist several times as he dismissed tactic after tactic. Drawing Honras’ ship into the asteroid field was a good idea. But once there, he needed to find a way to outsmart or outmaneuver the Eaglaton light cruiser. His fist stopped mid-swing when a memory came to him. It was a story his father had told him from one of his battles with Tanaka-lan. He easily remembered the respect that had filled his father’s voice at what Tanaka-lan had done, and then the humor when his father had described using the same tactic later in the Karacknid War.

Jonathan’s gaze swung towards the asteroid field. It wasn’t exactly like sling shooting around a planet with a thick ring, but he could maybe make it work. “That ravine-like structure in the asteroid field,” Jonathan said as he selected the area he wanted on his command chair’s display. “Take us towards it. Prepare to fire mark VII missies from our forward tubes. I want to begin to use our anti-matter to blast a hole through the bottom of the ravine for us to pass through.”

“A great idea, Captain,” Cortez replied as a small smile appeared on her lips. “Once we pass through, we will be shielded from their missiles. It will give us time to effect repairs.”

“And even to try and run away if we so wished,” Jonathan added, causing Cortez to frown. He returned her smile. “Only if we wished. Which is what I want them to think.” He turned to Rutherford. “Open a COM channel to that cruiser once we have fired our first missiles from our forward tubes.”

“Ready, Captain,” Rutherford responded.

“Captain Honras, you have bested us. I wish to pay you my respects. You have fought your, ship well,” Jonathan said, and then nodded for Rutherford to send the message.

“Do you wish to surrender your ship, Captain?” Honras asked moments later when he replied. “You can end the bloodshed now and keep your honor intact. For a smaller ship, Achilles has put up a good fight.”

Jonathan shook his head as he replied. “That’s not why I wished to speak with you, Captain. We will not be surrendering. You may have won this battle, but I will bring word of what Commodore Gifosous is planning back to my superiors. He will be stopped. I’d advise you to take your ship back to Farvul’vian. With the damage you have suffered, you will stand no chance against the Imperial Fleet when it comes. You should turn back now and save your ship and crew.” Tapping his command chair, Jonathan ended the COM channel.

“First anti-matter warheads detonating now, Captain,” Cortez reported.

“Increase our acceleration slightly,” Jonathan ordered. He held up a hand when Cortez opened her mouth to protest. “I know it’s risky. We have to make it look like we are serious.”

“They are matching our increase in acceleration and more,” Lydia said seconds later.

Jonathan nodded. It was working. “We fire one more salvo of mark VIIIs and then I want standard thermonuclear warheads loaded in our tubes. If we can, we’re going to lure Honras into that ravine. He may think he can follow us into the asteroid field and through the hole we are making. We’re going to use our nuclear warheads to close it behind us.”

“Like when the Allied fleet filled a gas giant’s atmosphere with debris from the planet’s ring to escape a Karacknid fleet in the Gayla campaign?” Lydia asked.

“Exactly,” Jonathan said as he gave Lydia a firm nod. “So, let’s see if we can pull it off.”

“Right away, Captain,” Cortez and Lydia said in unison.

Jonathan watched them for several seconds, then turned back to the main holo display. There were still two more missile salvos coming in towards Achilles she would have to survive to even make it to the asteroid field.

“We have another reply from Honras,” Rutherford informed him seconds later.

“You are resourceful, Captain,” Honras said. “Those anti-matter warheads of yours are impressive. But you cannot escape me, I have the acceleration advantage. Do the wise thing, and save the lives of your remaining crew.”

“We’ve said what we need to,” Jonathan said to Rutherford when the COM officer looked over. He had chosen his course. Now, it was time to see if he could pull off the same trick his father had once used successfully. “Schmidt, once we have cleared a passage right through the asteroid field with antimatter missiles, load two mark VIIIs in our forward tubes.”

“Aye, Captain,” Schmidt acknowledged.

“Next enemy salvo coming in,” Lydia reported moments later.

Jonathan gripped tightly onto his command chair as he watched Achilles’ point defenses try to obliterate the missiles. Five were destroyed before they could get close enough to detonate. The remaining seven blew up and shot grazer beams at Achilles. Jonathan was bounced around in his seat as his teeth clenched together. Achilles suffered another grazing hit. From the number of alarms that went off, he knew more serious damage had been suffered. Crucially though, the destroyer’s acceleration rate didn’t falter.

Leaving the damage control to Cortez, Jonathan kept his eye on the narrow gorge-like structure in the asteroid field Achilles was heading towards. Beyond it, Schmidt had blown a rather large passage through the asteroid field. But to get to it, Achilles would have to pass through the ravine. It was both the strength and major weakness of his plan. If Honras realized, he could send his missiles ahead of Achilles to strike the ravine and disrupt the asteroids there. Achilles’ momentum meant she would have no hope of avoiding a devastating collision. As the next salvo approached Achilles, Jonathan’s knuckles turned white as he held onto his command chair. It looked like they were targeting his ship, but it was impossible to know for sure.

Despite having their effectiveness severely reduced, Achilles’ gunners did their best. Eight of the missiles were shot down. Then the remaining four detonated. For a split-second, Jonathan felt relief thinking they had missed. Then suddenly, he was once again jostled about. From the strength of the shockwaves that ran up his command chair, he knew it had been more than just a glancing hit. At least one grazer beam had burnt its way right into Achilles’ hull.

There was no time for Jonathan to worry about how badly Achilles was hurt, however, for she was now rapidly approaching the asteroid field. “Keep her steady Scholes,” he ordered. “Schmidt, be ready with those thermonuclear missiles. Fire on my mark.” On the holo display, the asteroid field that had just been a blip rapidly started to grow. Within seconds, the ravine became visible. Achilles was travelling so fast that in just seconds, she passed through the ravine and into the wider channel Schmidt had cleared. “Fire!” Jonathan ordered.

From Achilles’ functioning starboard and port missile tubes, fifteen thermonuclear warheads were launched. Diving into the ravine, they travelled as far as they could, trying to dodge asteroids. None made it very far. When they struck an asteroid, they blew up, releasing a massive wall of thermonuclear energy. Like watching a stone skip across a calm pond, a ripple of explosions danced up either side of the ravine. Suddenly, the narrow gap that had been completely clear of rocks was filled with thousands of massive chunks as they were tossed in every direction.

Honras’ response was immediate. His light cruiser flipped end over end, and began to decelerate hard. Jonathan’s eyes were glued to the holo plot as Achilles’ computer calculated the cruiser’s updated course. “Yes!” Jonathan shouted as he made a fist towards Cortez. “We have them!” Honras wasn’t going to escape.

“It worked, Captain,” Cortez replied, her voice full of relief.

“Detecting energy discharges from the Eaglaton ship,” Schmidt reported moments later. “I think they’re firing whatever heavy energy weapons they have.”

Sure enough, seconds later and asteroids began to detonate within the now clogged ravine. Twenty seconds passed, and then there were more detonations. Jonathan shook his head. “That’s not nearly enough firepower to clear a path.” Seemingly realizing their predicament, the Eaglaton ship fired another salvo of missiles. Within thirty seconds, the missiles detonated, piercing the twelve largest asteroids with grazer beams. Rather than open up a channel, however, the asteroids simply shattered, sending tens of thousands more chunks of rocks flying in every direction.

“Detecting point defensive fire from them now,” Schmidt updated.

Jonathan nodded to his tactical officer. “Now is the time, Lieutenant.”

Jonathan almost felt bad as Schmidt tapped his console. Honras’ cruiser was fighting for its life against an impersonal enemy. Jonathan was about to make it worse. Nevertheless, as Achilles flipped end over end and pointed her nose back towards the ravine, Jonathan felt no remorse as her two forward missile tubes unleashed their ordinance. Just before they entered the ravine, both mark VIIIs detonated, sending six bomb-pumped lasers towards the enemy cruiser.

Either because its defenses were so focused on the asteroid chunks, or because all the asteroids were clouding out its sensors, the Eaglaton ship didn’t try to dodge. All six beams tore into it. The cruiser visibly shuddered. Then secondary explosions ripped large sections of its hull apart. The carnage wasn’t over, however, for the stricken cruiser’s momentum carried it hurtling into the ravine. With its engines wrecked, many maneuvering thrusters out of action, and point defensive weapons destroyed, the cruiser careened into asteroid after asteroid. In the space of thirty seconds, it was smashed beyond recognition. Then finally, one asteroid struck a reactor and what was left of the cruiser disappeared in a blinding flash.

Jonathan’s head slumped back against his command chair. They had done it! He shared a grin with Cortez, Lydia, and his other officers. It didn’t last more than a few seconds, however. There were too many alarms still sounding. He needed to assess Achilles’ damage at once. Gifosous had a significant head start on them. With at least one impulse engine down, there was now no way Achilles could beat Gifosous to the Gift. But even if we can’t beat him there, we are still not going to let him just do whatever he wants to our wormhole! Jonathan thought as a new wave of strength he hadn’t thought he had washed through him.

“We must begin essential repairs at once,” he ordered. “I want us moving again as soon as possible. This was only round one. I know Achilles has more fight left in her yet.” Though weary eyes returned the hard stare Jonathan gave his officers, he saw a grim determination settle on all their faces as they responded to his words. We are coming, Jonathan thought towards Gifosous.

Chapter 17

I share this advice with every cadet when they graduate from the Naval Academy, always take something of your homeworld with you on your first voyage. You won’t appreciate the comfort it will give you until you are hundreds of light years from your birthplace.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Hercules, Bastion System, (same time).

Rear Admiral Salamanca sat back in his office chair and looked up at the painting of the Toledo Hills his wife had given him the last time he had left Earth. He had just finished reading through the third logistics report from one of the Imperial squadrons based in Conclave space. One was tedious enough, three almost put him to sleep. For a few moments, he lost himself in enjoying the beauty of his homeland. Then, with a sigh, he picked the datapad back up and began to pull out the main details he needed to go over with his staff officers. Keeping over a thousand ships operating a constant patrol in full supply, ready for war at a moment’s notice, was a logistical nightmare. By comparison, maintaining his own fleet in the Bastion system was child’s play. When he was still far from done, Salamanca’s COM unit built into his desk beeped. Thankful for the distraction, Salamanca tapped it. “Go ahead.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Admiral,” Smirnov, Hercules’ Captain said. “But Mongoose has just jumped into the system. She’s making a fast approach.”

“Mongoose?” Salamanca asked as he tried to place the ship. “Captain McMasters, right, isn’t he supposed to be out on a long-range exploration mission?”

“That’s correct, Admiral. She wasn’t due back for another couple of months at least,” Smirnov replied.

“Well, I guess she has news. Transmit her report as soon as it reaches us,” Salamanca requested, a new enthusiasm in his voice.

“Will do, Admiral,” Smirnov answered.

When his COM unit clicked to inform him the channel had been ended, Salamanca threw himself into the logistics report with fresh vigor. Something told him he needed to get it done and off his plate, so he had time to deal with whatever McMasters was bringing him.

Half an hour later, McMasters’ report arrived. As Salamanca began to read, he was confused when he realized it was Somerville’s report. Within seconds of reading Somerville’s words, however, Salamanca eyebrows began to rise. They continued to rise as he read on. As soon as he was done, he sat his datapad down and marched out of his office. Hercules’ bridge was just across the corridor. Stepping in, he saw it was already starting to fill up. “You’ve read Somerville’s report?” he asked Smirnov.

Smirnov nodded. “I’ve already sent for Commander Bianco and the rest of your staff officers.”

“I’m here, Admiral,” Bianco called out as she stepped onto the bridge just behind Salamanca. “Smirnov gave me the highlights. What are your orders?”

“Get the rest of our team here, and then read Somerville’s full report. Smirnov, I want two fast frigates dispatched at once to the Gift. One is to take Somerville’s report to Earth and Emperor Somerville, the second to Admiral Becket at New Delhi.”

“Yes, Admiral. Do you wish to add anything more to Somerville’s report?” Smirnov asked.

Salamanca paused for a second. He already knew what he wanted to do, yet they needed to carefully analyze whatever next steps they would take. “Just add a note that we will take whatever steps are necessary to protect Bastion and the Gift. And make sure the commander of the Gift Garrison Fleet knows to bring his fleet through the Gift to protect the wormhole.”

“I’ll add that now, Admiral,” Smirnov replied with a nod.

“All right,” Salamanca said as he turned to his staff officers. “Familiarize yourselves with every detail of Somerville’s report. Then, we will get to work.” As his officers began to read, Salamanca pulled up the star map Somerville had collated. His eyes fell on the Dudl’lon and Bar’samin systems. They were the key. Any invading fleet that left the Farvul’vian system would have to pass through one or both of them in order to attack Bastion or the Gift.

Somerville’s instincts were right. Both systems are being prepared as supply hubs, Salamanca was sure. However, from his report, it was clear Somerville hadn’t realized the full implications of what he had discovered. The size of the He3 mining facilities in each system suggested they weren’t just going to play host to an invasion fleet that passed through. They were being prepared to become fuel depots for a prolonged engagement. One that could have the conquest the entirety of Conclave space as its ultimate goal, Salamanca feared. The Eaglaton Protectorate wasn’t messing around. They appeared to be preparing to play for keeps.

“Okay, Admiral, we are ready, what are you thinking?” Bianco asked when she had read Somerville’s report.

With a swish of his finger, Salamanca sent the file he had been working on to the main holo projector. Both the Dudl’lon and Bar’samin systems began to flash. “We need to prepare the fleet to depart as soon as possible. We cannot let this Eaglaton Protectorate gain control of these two systems. If they do, they will be able to strike at us here, or anywhere along the Conclave’s southern border at will.”

“We’re going to attack them?” Bianco asked.

Salamanca smiled at his Chief of Staff. “Attack is a very confrontational phrase, commander. I prefer to  think we’re going to persuade them to give up their gas mining facilities. That is how a diplomat would phrase it. Prepare the fleet to depart before the end of the day. We will simulate everything Somerville has shared with us and draw up a number of contingency plans. But if it is feasible, we are going to secure these gas mining facilities. Any ships that cannot come within that timeframe will be left behind… In fact, I want at least three hundred ships left here as a garrison in case this Eaglaton attack comes even quicker than Somerville thinks.”

“At once, Admiral, we will begin the preparations now,” Bianco replied.

Salamanca nodded to her, and then looked back up to stare at the star map. He had been craving action for months now. In reality, ever since he had been assigned to the station, a small part of him had been secretly hoping the war with the Karacknids would resume under his watch. Though he was undoubtedly excited by the prospect of facing this Eaglaton Protectorate fleet, memories of his time serving with Emperor Somerville on board Drake during his Gayla campaign started to come back. Though it had been twenty years, the memories played out as fresh in his mind as if they happened yesterday. Fear and concern quickly smothered his excitement. He chided himself for his foolishness. War was never anything to be sought after. And Admiral Somerville is not here to lead us this time, Salamanca reminded himself. The buck now stopped with him.

*

IS Neptune, Dandelion system, 8th September 2509 AD, (five days later).

“All right, it looks all clear,” Captain Montgomery said. “Inform Stallion we are going to proceed unless they have any objections.”

“Contacting them now, Captain,” Neptune’s COM officer replied. “Captain da Costa is fine to continue,” she added moments later.

“Then take us in,” Montgomery ordered. “Maximum acceleration.”

Before he even finished his sentence, Neptune’s reactors thrummed up to full power and her three impulse engines shot her forward. Stallion was a split second behind her. Though he was well used to it, Montgomery enjoyed the feeling of acceleration Neptune’s inertial compensators couldn’t completely negate. Along with Stallion and about seventy other Wizard-class frigates, Neptune was the fastest ship in the Imperial Fleet. His frigate had spent the last ten minutes in stealth observing the Dandelion system to make sure there were no threats.

With nothing being detected, now Neptune’s speed was his frigate’s best defense. For an hour, Montgomery stayed on the bridge keeping one eye on his officers as they worked and another on the holo display. When he was satisfied there was no sign they were being pursued, he nodded to his First Lieutenant and stood up to retire to his quarters. A beep from the gravimetric sensors stopped him dead.

“Contact report. Multiple gravimetric signatures just detected,” Neptune’s sensor officer called out. “They’re on a course towards the system’s third planet.”

Montgomery threw himself back into his command chair. “Show me,” he demanded. The sudden appearances of new contacts was very worrying, no friendly ships had any reason to be deep within the Dandelion system. There was nothing there of interest. Yet, the system’s third planet was nowhere near Neptune’s current trajectory. When the course of the new contacts was put on the main holo display and projected forward, Montgomery realized what was happening. “They are going to do a gravity boost and come after us,” he told his crew. “Assume they intend to intercept us, calculate their course.” On the holo display, the projected course changed, simulating the contacts closing with the third planet and using its gravity to slingshot them around the planet onto a course that would put them ahead of Neptune and Stallion.

“They will catch us easily, Captain,” Baros, Neptune’s First Lieutenant said softly, her voice trailing off.

“Only if things stay as they are, Lieutenant,” Montgomery replied. “Do not worry, this is far from over yet.”

“Da Costa is hailing you, Captain,” Montgomery’s COM officer informed him.

With a hand gesture, Montgomery signaled for da Costa to be put through. “Someone doesn’t want us getting our messages through the Gift,” da Costa said. “What do you think, shall we split up?”

Montgomery nodded. “I think it’s for the best. One of us has to get through. Do you have a course in mind?”

“Not yet, you?” da Costa replied.

“The system’s fourth planet, it has three rather large moons, it might be a possibility,” he said.

Da Costa looked away for several moments, and then nodded. “That could work. Maybe I’ll try and make a run for the seventh planet’s planetary ring. It is pretty thick; I could try to lose them in there and then make a break for the shift passage.”

“Then it sounds like we have a plan, Captain. Good luck and godspeed,” Montgomery said as he gave da Costa a salute.

Da costa returned it. “Hopefully, we can both laugh about this over drinks on one of the Gift forts.”

“I look forward to it,” Montgomery replied as he nodded to da Costa, and then reached forward and tapped his command chair to end the COM channel. “All right, there’s no time to spare,” he said as he turned back to his officers. “Set course for the fourth planet. Let’s see if we can give these guys the slip.”

Seconds later, Neptune and Stallion split up. Montgomery watched the alien ships’ reaction times to get a feel for how capable they were. Within a minute, the six contacts split into two groups. One group of three altered course and increased its acceleration rate by ten percent as they moved to try and intercept Stallion before she could reach the system’s seventh planet. The other three began to rapidly decelerate. The momentum they would have gained from their gravity boost would only push them far away from the system’s fourth planet.

“I don’t think they’ll catch us before we reach the fourth planet,” Neptune’s Navigation Officer reported. “We should make it there before they can get us into missile range. At least, if they have missiles equivalent to our mark VIIIs. If they can match our VIIs, we may be in some trouble.”

“Depending on how many missiles they can fire,” Montgomery replied. “Have we got an ID on them yet?”

Neptune’s Sensor Officer shook her head. “Not yet, Captain. We are cross-referencing their gravimetric signatures with all the data Achilles collected at the Farvul’vian system to see if they are Protectorate ships. We don’t have a conclusive read yet, Achilles detected a lot of ships.” Montgomery pressed his lips together. He wanted to know what he was facing now. Yet, he would have to content himself with waiting. Forty minutes passed before he got the answer he wanted. “I think we have them identified now,” the same officer reported. “I believe they are Higarian warships. From the visuals we have, they are probably destroyers.”

“Thank you,” Montgomery replied as he brought a hand up and scratched his cheek. It was a relief to hear they weren’t Eaglaton. At least, Somerville suspected their ships were even more powerful than Higarian ones. But three destroyers may be far more than we can handle anyway, Montgomery feared. The Higarian force was clearly here to intercept any messenger ship sent from Bastion back to Earth. That meant they knew the route Montgomery would have taken, and likely that Salamanca would have sent frigates. So they have brought enough ships to be sure they can destroy us. Well, we’ll just have to make things as difficult as possible.

“We will be approaching the fourth planet in forty-three minutes, Captain; do you have a more specific course for me yet?” Neptune’s navigation officer asked.

Montgomery shook his head. “Just keep us straight towards the center of the planet,” he ordered. He had worked out six different possible routes. The three large moons orbiting the system’s fourth planet gave him many options. He could use each one of them or even a combination of them and the planet itself to carry out a gravity boost and course change. He wanted to see just what the Higarian ships trying to close with him would do first before he made a final decision on which route to choose. He also needed to wait and see just what da Costa had planned. If Stallion broke out of the planetary ring, she would head towards one of the system’s shift passages, Montgomery didn’t want to head towards it as well. They needed to take two different routes to the Gift to better their chances.

“The Higarian ships are accelerating!” an officer called out.

Everyone’s head swung up to look at the holo display. Montgomery’s heart jumped into his mouth. If the Higarians had been hiding their true maximum acceleration, then he could be cut off! He frowned when he saw the ships closing with Neptune hadn’t changed their positions. Then, he turned to Stallion. He closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. They had been hiding their full capabilities. The three Higarians chasing da Costa had allowed Stallion to commit to her course before revealing their full acceleration rates. Now, da Costa had nowhere to run. He would be intercepted before he reached the planetary ring he had hoped to lose his pursuers in.

“Our pursuers are increasing their rates as well,” Baros reported. “They won’t catch us before we reach the fourth planet, though, but they will be a good bit closer than we had anticipated.”

“We will have to deal with that when we come to it,” Montgomery responded. It was far from ideal. He would have far less room to maneuver than he had hoped. Yet, the Higarian destroyers were still slower than an Imperial destroyer, which made them much slower than Neptune. All he had to do was get ahead of them with enough momentum and they would never be able to catch him. If it wasn’t for the momentum the others got from their gravity boost, he thought as he shook his head, fearful for what was going to happen to Stallion. It had been a well-planned trap.

With Neptune now more than an hour away from Stallion, Montgomery and his officers could do nothing but watch as, over the next twenty minutes, the Higarians closed with Stallion. Valiantly, Stallion launched three salvos of her multistage mark VII missiles. Yet, it was to no avail. Point defenses from the three destroyers easily took out Stallion’s four missiles. Then, they each fired six of their own. Stallion’s defenses took out eight of them. The rest rushed in and detonated. The missiles were only armed with thermonuclear warheads, yet so many detonating so close to Stallion’s small frame ripped her to shreds. At once, the three Higarian ships began to turn towards the system’s fourth planet.

“They want to help cut us off if they can,” Montgomery said to his officers, though he knew they would already understand that. “Stallion didn’t deserve to be gutted like that, and neither do we. But whether we like it or not, we are now in a war. We can mourn them later. Right now, we need to get our intelligence to Earth ASAP. So let’s keep our minds in the game.”

“Of course, Captain,” Montgomery’s First Lieutenant replied forcefully. “We will not let you down.”

Montgomery smiled at Baros’ words to hide his own thoughts. He wasn’t concerned his crew would let him down, he was worried he would let them down. The time was fast approaching when he had to make a decision. Once again, he pulled up the six different routes his frigate could take through the fourth planet’s gravity well. Putting himself in the mind of the Higarian ships chasing him, he tried to decide which they would think the least likely. There would be a brief period of about two minutes where Neptune would be behind the fourth planet and obscured from their electromagnetic sensors. Montgomery intended to cut Neptune’s main engines and only use her maneuvering thrusters so that she would be invisible to the Higarians’ gravimetric sensors as well. When Neptune disappeared, the Higarians would have to guess where he was headed if they wanted to try and cut him off.

“Captain,” Baros said, her voice full of concern.

When Montgomery looked up, he cursed. The three Higarian ships were breaking apart. One was continuing to pursue Neptune, the other two were decelerating and moving to cover other parts of the fourth planet. “Map their new trajectories and display their maximum missile range,” Montgomery demanded. He swore again when their paths were projected. Between the three of them, the destroyers would cover every angle he might try to run with Neptune after following any of his six courses. At least two of their ships would have a good chance of being able to fire one or even maybe two missile salvos at him.

Montgomery desperately turned back to the holo image of the fourth planet. A crippling fear of defeat threatened to swallow him. It wasn’t a fear of the loss of his own life that assaulted him, it was letting down the Empire. Salamanca was counting on his intelligence getting to Earth. The Bastion fleet will be cut off! He thought desperately. His eyes narrowed. “I have a new course for us,” he said as calmly as he could. Quickly, he typed the route into his command chair and sent it to Neptune’s navigation officer.

“Captain, I’m not sure our inertial compensators can handle getting so close to that moon,” the officer replied at once.

Neptune’s First Lieutenant swung round to Montgomery as well. “Are you sure, Captain?”

Montgomery nodded slowly. “We have no choice. It’s this or face their missiles. Signal the crew, tell everyone to strap themselves in. Pass out our stores of anti-grav meds. Do it quickly. There is little time.”

Neptune’s First Lieutenant grimaced. Anti-grav medication was typically used by fighter pilots to give them an edge in combat. Every cadet had to take some during their high-g training at the academy, but after that, they avoided it like the plague. It wasn’t pleasant stuff. “I will make sure all the crew gets some,” she said, nonetheless.

Montgomery left her to it. Then, he opened a COM channel to Neptune’s Chief Engineer. “Donohue, we’re about to take Neptune far closer to a gravity well than is safe. We need to shore up as many of our vital systems as possible. Prioritize the reactors, engines, and shift drive. I need them to be functioning once we finish this maneuver.”

“I’ll do my best, Captain,” Donohue said. “I can’t make any promises, though.” He looked down for a second and his eyes widened. “Not with what you’re planning, Captain. It’s not close to being safe.”

“I’m well aware, Chief. It’s this or certain death, so do what you can. No one will hold you accountable for any damage we suffer.”

“Aye, Captain,” Donohue said before Montgomery cut the COM channel.

“Ready?” Montgomery asked Neptune’s navigation officer.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“You are confident you can do it with just our maneuvering thrusters?”

“As long as she holds together, Captain, I’ll put her where you want her,” the Navigation Officer said, far more confidently than Montgomery felt.

He had no choice but to trust her, however, so he gave her the briefest of smiles. “Then, it’s time to show these Higarians just how good a pilot you are. Take us in.”

At once, Neptune’s acceleration rate increased by a few percentage points. Then her nose turned slightly towards the fourth planet’s second-largest moon. Reduced to nothing more than a passenger, Montgomery gripped his command chair as his restraints tightened around him. When an officer quickly moved to his side, he tilted his neck to allow her to inject the anti-grav medication. Then he gestured for the officer to quickly return to her command chair. For a few seconds, he fought the brain fog that the drugs induced. Then his body started to shiver before finally calming down. By the time it did, Montgomery realized Neptune was already approaching the third moon.

Within seconds, alarms began to go off, warning of a potential collision. They were quickly silenced; however, other alarms kept beginning as system after system started to protest and then began reporting damage. Montgomery clenched his teeth together as he felt the g-forces on him quickly rising. A slight tremor ran through the deck and up his command chair as Neptune’s engines were shut down. Then the bridge’s lights dimmed as Neptune’s inertial compensator sucked every spare joule of energy it could from the frigate’s reactors.

Even with the anti-grav medication, Montgomery felt his vision narrow so much that he could barely see the holo display. Unconsciousness threatened to take him, but he fought it off. He had to watch. Neptune pulled such a tight slingshot around the moon that she started ploughing through the moon’s very thin atmosphere. Heat alarms began to go off as the friction sent the armor and outer hull’s temperature skyrocketing. Then, even quicker than they appeared, the high g-forces fell away as Neptune almost circled the moon once and then pulled up and away from it. Now she was heading towards the fourth planet on a completely different trajectory than before. Montgomery’s Navigation Officer allowed the fourth planet’s gravity to grab Neptune and pull her in and around the planet’s equator.

“Reactivating engines,” the Navigation Officer called out.

Neptune’s light dimmed again as the frigate’s impulse engines sprang to life and struggled to lift the frigate up and out of the planet’s atmosphere. For a second, Montgomery feared one of the reactors or engines had been damaged. There were a couple of moments where it didn’t look like the frigate was going to overcome the strong gravimetric pull of the planet, then as if an anchor holding Neptune back had been released, she leapt up and away from the planet.

“We did it!” Baros shouted as she turned to Montgomery and smiled. “We did it!”

“We did,” Montgomery found himself replying, a wide grin on his face. He then turned from his Lieutenant to the holo display. What he saw brought his eyebrows together. The Higarian ship that had been following them towards the fourth planet had turned around and was now decelerating. Clearly, it didn’t want to try and copy Neptune’s maneuvers. One of the other three ships also decelerating for its maneuver meant it was now heading in the wrong direction. Yet, the third had barely changed course. He shook his head as he stared at it. If the three ships worked together, they could still try and hem him in before he got to the shift passage he was headed towards. “No,” Montgomery said out loud as he realized what was happening. He smashed the fist into his command chair. “No!”

“What is it, Captain?” Neptune’s First Lieutenant asked. Montgomery didn’t get to answer. New contact alarms spoke for him as the third Higarian destroyer opened fire. Six missiles were now tracking in on Neptune. “They hid their maximum missile range,” Baros said, her voice falling flat.

Afraid to ask, Montgomery spoke anyway. “What condition are our targeting sensors and point defenses in?”

Neptune’s Tactical Officer looked up from his station. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I doubt we could manage seventy percent efficiency.”

Montgomery turned to the holo display of the Higarian destroyer. He wanted to lift up a fist and curse it, yet it would do him no good. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the destroyer. With the breaking maneuver the other two ships were carrying out, it was isolated. “Load mark VII missiles,” he ordered, a new strength entering his voice. “It may be about to destroy us, but maybe we can take it, too. Fire as soon as you are ready.”

Due to the damage to a number of Neptune’s tactical systems, she managed to fire her forward missiles just two minutes before the Higarians’ came in. Montgomery watched, rage building within him as his point defenses reached out towards the enemy missiles. Three of them were destroyed. Yet, three evaded everything shot at them. Just as they rushed in for the kill, he did raise a fist and cursed the Higarian destroyer. He desperately wanted to see his missiles blast it apart. Yet, he never got the chance.

A last-second plasma cannon bolt blew up one final Higarian missile. The remaining two slammed directly into the Imperial frigate. Punching through several decks, they detonated within a millisecond of one another. Neptune was instantly turned into a massive expanding ball of debris. Scarcely a section of hull larger than a few square meters remained intact. Without Neptune’s impulse engines thrusting her away from the system’s fourth planet, the planet’s gravity quickly began to suck the debris back down towards it.

Her missiles continued on, however. Breaking apart, they released twelve anti-matter missiles before entering attack range of the Higarian ship. The alien destroyer’s point defenses were overwhelmed by the missiles numbers and their ECM. Six missiles closed with it and detonated. The anti-matter washed over the destroyer, completely negating all of its particles.

Further out from the planet, the five remaining Higarian destroyers moved to the coordinates where their comrade had died. Finding no trace of the ship, they went dark as they returned to stealth, ready to ambush any other unsuspecting Imperial ships that might enter the system.

Chapter 18

Officers of the Naval Intelligence Division always argue that intelligence, not missiles, win wars. Never admit this to their faces, but behind closed doors, we naval officers must never downplay how vital intelligence is. Knowing where your opponent is and what he is up to, can be worth a hundred superdreadnoughts.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Matilda, supply depot Sigma Seven.

Emilie’s COM unit crackled as she was working out in Matilda’s officer’s gym. “Commodore McVeigh is back,” Emilie’s Chief of Staff informed her.

At once, Emilie stuck a hand out and stopped the running machine. “I’m on my way.” Without bothering to get a shower or even change her clothes, Emilie headed straight for the bridge. She had been waiting almost a week for McVeigh and his flotilla of destroyers and frigates to return. Dispatched more than five weeks ago, she had been expecting them to have finished their survey of the area Ala’ron had tried to hide from her days ago.

“We should receive whatever communications they have sent in four minutes,” Lieutenant Brzezinski informed Emilie as soon as she stepped onto the bridge.

“I want to see it immediately,” Emilie requested as she moved to her command chair. When she sat, she found a cold drink and a damp towel waiting for her. Looking around to Roche, she gave her Chief of Staff a smile of thanks. Taking a moment to refresh herself, Emilie then sought out McVeigh’s flotilla on the holo display. She had set out with fourteen ships, yet only six were in formation alongside her destroyer Agamemnon. Emilie hoped that meant he had found something. She had instructed McVeigh to leave some of his ships behind to track whatever Flex-aor forces he might encounter.

The sight made Emilie share another glance with Roche. For weeks now, both of them had been moping around Matilda, feeling sorry for themselves. The losses her fleet had suffered in Ala’ron’s ambush had been her fault alone. Yet, that hadn’t stopped all of Emilie’s command staff from feeling guilty themselves. But now we can get our revenge, Emilie thought, sure Roche was feeling the same. McVeigh wouldn’t have returned without all of his ships unless he had found something.

“We have Commodore McVeigh’s report,” Brzezinski informed everyone. “Transmitting it to you all now.”

Emilie didn’t read more than the first two paragraphs before looking up. “Project McVeigh’s star map on the main holo display.”

Before she had finished her request, Parker had already put up the map. Emilie’s lips parted in a predatory grin. The Flex-aor fleet was right where Ala’ron had tried to show her there were no Flex-aor forces. It appeared McVeigh’s scout ships had detected three Flex-aor fleets, two smaller ones and a large one of almost twelve hundred ships.

“What do you think they are planning?” Roche asked.

“Probing attacks, to test our defenses?” Rodgers, Matilda’s Captain suggested.

Emilie nodded. “It looks like it. And if I had to bet, I’d say Vestar is their target. One probing attack could hit their colony at Jeroung, and another could threaten Haven. Both attacks would pull much of Admiral Becket’s ships away from Vestar. Twelve hundred ships would easily be able to move into range of the planet and saturate its defenses with enough nuclear missiles to wipe out the planet’s surface.”

“It’s a good thing McVeigh dispatched ships with his findings back to Becket as well as us then,” Rodgers commented. He was smiling the same predatory grin Emilie was as he spoke.

“It sure is. Now, let’s get our fleets moving. I want frigates sent to Tak’ar, Armitage, McBurney, and Far’manlan’s fleets. They are all to begin moving at once. We will rendezvous at depot Sigma thirteen. From there, we will be in position to play anvil to Becket’s hammer. This is our chance to avenge our fallen comrades, everyone. There’s no time to waste, let’s get moving. I want to be in position before the Flex-aor figure out Becket is on to them.”

On the holo map, the four different fleets Emilie had just mentioned began to flash and then lines mapping out their predicted courses to Sigma thirteen appeared. Since falling back from Ala’ron’s ambush, Emilie had reshuffled her fleets to get as many ships as possible as close to where she thought the next Flex-aor attack would come. She had been forced to send hundreds back to Connecticut for repairs, but if she and Becket could coordinate their efforts, the Flex-aor would have no chance. And coordination is what we do best, Emilie thought as she remembered back over the tens of thousands of hours of simulations and wargames they had participated in together. It was easy for Emilie to predict how Becket would respond to McVeigh’s intel. Which means we need to be right there, Emilie thought as her eyes rested on the Babylon IV system, just nine days travel from Vestar.

*

IS Bach, Haven system, 21st September 2509 AD, (thirteen days later).

Rear Admiral Miyagi sat perfectly still in his command chair. No emotions passed across his face. The scouts he had left in the Emancipation system had returned three hours ago to inform him the Flex-aor fleet had been spotted. Admiral Becket’s guess as to the Flex-aor’s intentions had been correct. Any minute now, and four hundred warships would exit shift space and make an attack run on Haven. The Haven Defense Fleet had already been alerted. Their one hundred ships and orbital battlestations and defense satellites were ready to defend the colony. It was Miyagi’s mission to make sure they were not needed.

Another hour passed, and still, Miyagi didn’t move. He barely noticed the passage of time. It didn’t matter when the Flex-aor would arrive, only that they would. Eventually, his patience paid off as the first contacts flickered on the gravimetric plot. Miyagi immediately began to give orders. “Lay in an intercept course. Maximum acceleration.”

At once, his two hundred and thirty ships came alive as their reactors powered up and impulse engines thrust them forward. Even as the number of contacts being picked up rose to four hundred, the Imperial fleet didn’t slow. “Order Haven’s defense fleet to break orbit,” Miyagi requested.

“Yes, Admiral,” his COMs officer replied.

Ten minutes later and the Haven fleet turned onto a course that would put them directly between the Flex-aor fleet and the colony. If the Flex-aor wanted to try and attack the planet’s surface, they’d have to go through Miyagi and then, the Haven fleet. The chances were high that they wouldn’t have enough ships left to survive an attack run on the colony’s battlestations, let alone slip any nuclear warheads through to hit the planet. “Fire the first mark VII missiles,” Miyagi ordered to emphasize the point.

In an ideal world, Admiral Becket would have had enough time to assign more ships to his fleet. Yet, they had received the intelligence on the Flex-aor fleet only eleven days ago. Becket had over four thousand ships under her command, yet she had a border of more than two hundred light years to protect. Miyagi’s fleet was all the help within reach of Haven. Becket had ordered him to dissuade the Flex-aor from attacking. If she was right, and the attack was only a probing attack, then the Flex-aor would turn around when they saw they couldn’t hope to hit the planet. But if they didn’t, Miyagi was committed to his attack anyway. He had grown up learning about the Flex-aor attacks on the American colonies, he had also seen the images from what remained of Chennai after the Flex-aor had nuked it. Though there was no emotion on his face, Miyagi boiled inside. Outnumbered or not, if the Flex-aor let him, he was going to drive his fleet right into the midst of their formation and tear them apart. “Fire again,” he snapped as soon his fleet had reloaded.

“They are decelerating,” a sensor officer called out. “It looks like they are trying to turn back to the shift passage.”

Miyagi’s nostrils flare. Cowards, he thought towards the Flex-aor. “Match their course,” he ordered. “We will continue to close with them until they jump out.” Miyagi felt his Chief of Staff look at him. If they continued to close, the Flex-aor would be able to fire their missiles. He didn’t react, for closing also meant his ships would get to fire their far more deadly mark VIII missiles. His bomb-pumped laser warheads would get many more hits, and hits meant damage, and damaged ships would not be able to jump into shift space.

“Enemy missiles detected!” A sensor officer called out. “Twelve hundred missiles incoming.”

Miyagi didn’t flinch. He knew twelve hundred would likely turn into four thousand or more when the first stage released their smaller missiles. His fleet would just have to weather the Flex-aor fire. When his ship’s first missile salvo reached the Flex-aor ships, several officers congratulated one another or pumped fists in the air. Twelve missiles had made it through the Flex-aor fire to detonate, taking out eight Flex-aor ships and damaging two others. The next salvo had a similar effect. Only when his third salvo struck home did Miyagi lean forward slightly. This time, the salvo was made up of mark VIII missiles.

Being able to detonate much further out from the Flex-aor ships meant eighty missiles survived to reach attack range. The two hundred and forty laser beams they released caused explosions to appear all across the Flex-aor fleet. Only a handful of ships were destroyed outright, but many began to lose acceleration. Miyagi’s face tightened. Each damaged ship was one that was not going to escape his clutches.

When the Flex-aor’s first salvo came in, he kept his face impassive, even as several of his ships were destroyed around him. Miyagi hated the losses, but they were the price he had to pay to harry the Flex-aor. Just forty seconds before the Flex-aor reached the system’s mass shadow, his fourth and final full salvo struck home. At least fifty Flex-aor ships were destroyed or damaged. Then the remaining Flex-aor ships winked off the holo plot as they jumped into shift space. Their final salvo destroyed nine more Imperial ships and damaged a number of others.

For another twenty minutes, Miyagi directed the fire of his fleet as they hunted down and destroyed all the damaged Flex-aor ships. As soon as the last one was destroyed, he turned to his Chief of Staff. “Send word to Admiral Becket that we have turned back the Flex-aor probing attack. Then assess our fleet. Any damaged ships that cannot keep pace with Bach are to make for Haven, they can carry out repairs there. The rest of us are going to rendezvous with Admiral Becket as fast as we can. We have unfinished business with those ships.”

*

IS Trident, Jil’lal system, 28th September 2509 AD, (one week later).

Moments after Trident jumped into the Jil’lal system, Becket let out a long breath, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Twelve hundred contacts were clearly visible on the gravimetric sensors. They were making their way through the system towards the shift passage that led to Vestar. Not today you don’t, Becket thought towards the Flex-aor ships. Along with her dreadnought Trident, she had one thousand Imperial warships. She had stripped every nearby system of their defense fleets to make up her numbers. It had been a risk, but she had been proved right. The main Flex-aor fleet had intended to try and hit Vestar.

Now instead, you have got us to contend with. “Move the fleet directly between the Flex-aor and the Vestar shift passage,” Becket ordered. “Launch all fighters. Let’s show them our strength.” She was prepared to fight the Flex-aor if they were willing to offer battle, but she would prefer it if they abandoned their attack on Vestar. Knowing Emilie as she did, Becket was sure the Flex-aor were going to find themselves in even more trouble than they already were in.

“All of Wing Commander Carrick’s fighters have launched and formed up. The Flex-aor are not changing course though,” Trident’s tactical officer observed several minutes later.

“We can all see that, Lieutenant,” McGinty, Trident’s Captain responded, causing his subordinate’s cheeks to redden.

Becket shared a quick smile with her Flag Captain before turning back to the holo display. By now, the Flex-aor had been given more than enough time to assess her full strength. Though they had the numerical advantage, albeit slightly, her ships were the more powerful force. The Lieutenant is right, Becket concluded. If they had wanted to run, they would have done so already. “Send the fleet’s crew to their mess halls, let’s get them something to eat. It seems we may have a fight on our hands after all.”

Ten minutes later and the Flex-aor finally responded. Rather than turn back towards the shift passage they had come from, the Flex-aor fleet set course for the system’s only gas giant. “Are they trying to maneuver past us?” McGinty asked, incredulity filling his voice.

Becket could come up with no other likely answer. “It seems so. Launch a fuller spread of recon drones, and make sure they don’t have any additional ships out here.” She was almost sure they didn’t. After receiving the initial report from Emilie’s scouts, Becket had sent stealth ships out to make contact with the Flex-aor force. She knew two smaller fleets had split off to hit their targets. She also knew only one thousand two hundred warships had been spotted in the main fleet. Yet, it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

“They have come a long way,” Becket’s Chief of Staff observed. “I doubt their High Queen would be pleased if they simply turned around at the first sign of trouble.”

“Probably not,” Becket said. “But she would be less pleased if they fought and lost a battle for nothing.” As far as James had been able to tell from his telepathic link to Ala’ron, the Flex-aor didn’t have more than eight thousand warships. They were undoubtedly working frantically to build more. But for now, the one thousand in front of Becket constituted a sizable proportion of the Flex-aor’s strength. A wise commander would know it shouldn’t be squandered. Yet, they are going to try, Becket thought as her Navigation Officer projected a number of routes the Flex-aor fleet could take if it used the gas giant to carry out a gravity boost. “Move us to these coordinates,” Becket ordered as she chose a position where she would be able to intercept the Flex-aor fleet if it tried a maneuver that would take it anywhere near the Vestar shift passage.

Twenty minutes later, and the Flex-aor fleet bailed on its attempt to swing around the gas giant. Instead, it changed course towards a large group of meteors. Becket smiled when she saw where they were headed. It was a trick she had seen Admiral Somerville use once before. “Have Wing Commander Carrick dispatch two squadrons of Hellcats to those meteors. I want them to use their anti-matter warheads to disintegrate the largest meteors.”

“Understood, Admiral,” her Chief of Staff responded. “May I ask why?” she followed up once the order was given.

“They want to blow them all up,” Becket explained. “If they detonate them all at once, they could create a large moving wall of rock debris. We’d have to take evasive maneuvers to dodge, and it might just give them a big enough opening to slip past us.”

When the anti-matter missiles started detonating among the meteors, the Flex-aor fleet changed course again. Though Becket couldn’t see just what they intended, she matched their trajectory. Within five minutes, the Flex-aor ships altered their heading a second time; this time, they turned to charge her ships. Only fifteen minutes later, they pulled up and away again. Becket shared a glance with her Flag Captain. “They think they can outsmart us?” he asked.

Becket shrugged her shoulders. It seemed the Flex-aor wanted to play cat and mouse. Taking a deep breath, she mentally prepared herself. This was something she had simulated hundreds of times against all of the Imperial Navy’s best Admirals. If the Flex-aor commander wanted to play, then she was game, for it was not often she was out-foxed when it came to maneuvering a battlefleet.

For an hour and thirty minutes, the Flex-aor commander pitted his wits against Becket. Each time he made a move, she matched his. At times, he was able to get a little closer to a position where he could make a run for the shift passage to Vestar, but inevitably, Becket cut him off. Eventually, Becket sensed a shift in the Flex-aor fleet’s maneuvers. It was very subtle, but she felt the enemy commander’s heart was not in it. He is just playing along now, Becket was sure. Trying to get his ships to safety. In response, Becket changed her tactics too, though the change was even less obvious.

“They are changing course again,” Trident’s Sensor Officer called out. “They are turning in the general direction of the Vestar shift passage.”

“Put us onto a heading of nine, nine, seven point three,” Becket ordered.

“Are you sure, Admiral?” Trident’s Navigation Officer asked. “That’s not a direct intercept course.”

“I am aware, Lieutenant. I know what I am doing,” Becket assured him. As her fleet turned, Becket shared a look and a smile with her Chief of Staff. Within seconds, it became obvious on the holo plot what she was doing. The door to Vestar was suddenly open, but at best, it was barely cracked. If the Flex-aor made a run for it, they could maybe make it to the shift passage, but they would have to run through at least six missile salvos from Becket’s fleet. Becket was more than confident that if the Flex-aor tried, their fleet would take enough of a beating that Vestar’s defenses would be able to hold them off while she came in from behind and crushed them. On the other hand, Trident’s current course was also moving her towards a point where she could permanently cut off any route the Flex-aor fleet might try to take if it wanted to retreat to the system it had come from. If the Flex-aor didn’t alter course soon, Becket would be able to force them into a prolonged battle they couldn’t avoid.

It took the Flex-aor commander several minutes to figure out what Becket had done. It was obvious when he did, for the Flex-aor fleet immediately tried to reverse course. Becket was ready for it. “Heading seven, six, one point two,” she ordered. She couldn’t help but smile when the Flex-aor fleet changed course again. Her opponent clearly had no intention of making it easy for her. It reminded her of the one time she and General Johnston had gone fishing together after the Karacknid War. Neither of them had been before, and after the war, Johnston had insisted he needed a hobby. When his wife had refused to go, Becket had volunteered. Perhaps a gentle fishing expedition on a calm lake would have suited her, but Johnston had insisted on going tuna fishing on the open sea, an open sea that had been more than a little choppy. Becket had vowed not to go again, but she had managed to catch one tuna. Trying to wrangle in the Flex-aor fleet now felt a lot like trying to bring in the tuna had then. Yet, just like her brief trip on the Atlantic Ocean, she already had the Flex-aor hooked. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, after another two hours of back and forth, the Flex-aor fleet had no choice but to run under Becket’s guns if they wanted to get to the safety of the system’s mass shadow and their shift passage out.

“We should have enough time to get off two salvos before they jump out,” Trident’s Tactical Officer reported. “They won’t get close enough to us to fire if we remain on our current trajectory.”

“Then let’s make the best of each salvo,” Becket responded. “Make every missile count.”

“What about our fighters?” Godwin, Trident’s Captain asked.

“Hold them in reserve,” Becket instructed. “They could do a lot of damage, but we would lose a lot. I think they will serve us better in the days ahead.”

“Understood,” Godwin replied.

It took twenty-five minutes for the first salvo of mark VIIs to cross the distance to the Flex-aor ships. The Flex-aor used the time to make a calculated move. Half of their fleet, consisting entirely of frigates, destroyers and light cruisers broke away and moved towards the missiles. Becket could either retarget her missiles to the smaller ships, or allow them free range to fire at her missiles as they passed. As much as it galled her, Becket gave the order to re-task her missiles. The one positive was that the Flex-aor move had more than cut in half the number of point defenses her missiles would have to fly through.

“Multiple hits!” her Tactical Officer shouted as anti-matter detonations started blossoming amongst the Flex-aor light ships. Becket was able to count at least thirty with the naked eye alone. Five minutes later, when her second salvo crashed home, forty-two Flex-aor ships had been confirmed killed. The second salvo took out another forty-nine. Then, the remaining Flex-aor ships disappeared from the holo plot as they crossed the system’s mass shadow and jumped out.

“Lay in a pursuit course,” Becket ordered. “Jump us out as soon as we can. I want to be right on their heels in the next system.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Becket’s Chief of Staff responded enthusiastically.

Becket nodded to her and then turned back to the holo plot. A third, much smaller missile salvo was closing in on the eight Flex-aor ships that had been too damaged to make the jump to shift space. They hadn’t offered to surrender, and Becket hadn’t asked. When they were destroyed, Becket sat back in her command chair. Her eyes flickered to the name of the system Trident was in. She had purposefully kept herself from thinking about it. Now she allowed the memories to come flooding in. Hopefully we can make you proud, Becket thought towards her old friend for whom the system was named.

During the Gayla campaign, she and Jil’lal had commanded scouting squadrons attached to Admiral Somerville’s main fleet. On more than a handful of occasions, they had been able to coordinate complicated attacks across a number of systems simply by anticipating each other’s moves. By the end of the campaign, Becket had been certain Jil’lal was as good a commander as any the Allies had, except maybe Admiral Somerville. If you were alive, you would be the one defending your homeworld now. I will do my best in your stead, old friend.

Chapter 19

Those who serve together through long campaigns often form an uncommon bond that can last a lifetime.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Matilda, Babylon IV system, 7th October 2509 AD, (nine days later).

“There they are,” Emilie said as fourteen hundred new contacts appeared on Matilda’s holo plot. “One of their feint attack fleets must have joined up with the main Flex-aor fleet. Admiral Becket has shepherded them right to us.”

“And we are in perfect position,” Roche added. “Thanks to you, Admiral.”

Emilie nodded to acknowledge her Chief of Staff. Her fleet of five hundred warships was currently tucked in neatly behind one of the Babylon IV system’s many comets. In stealth, and with the comet and its thick tail further masking them, Emile was very confident the Flex-aor wouldn’t get a whiff of their presence. When the Flex-aor ships set course at their maximum speed for shift passage that would take them further from Imperial space, she was even more sure. The Flex-aor were running from something, which meant most of their attention would be focused to their rear.

“What are your orders, Admiral?” Roche asked.

“Nothing as yet,” Emilie replied. “Let’s see how things play out.” Roche nodded as Emilie sat back in her command chair. Her fleet wasn’t exactly blocking the Flex-aor’s path, but it would be simple to break cover and move ahead of them when the time came. Emilie was in no rush, however. Her subordinates all knew their orders.

“More contacts,” Lieutenant Parker updated everyone half an hour later. “It is Trident and Admiral Becket’s fleet,” he added as Matilda’s computer recognized the gravimetric signatures from many of the Imperial ships.

Emilie smiled a predatory smile when she saw the numbers. Becket had managed to gather eleven hundred ships. On their own, Emilie would bet a year’s salary that Becket could defeat the Flex-aor fleet alone. We have them, she said to herself. The Flex-aor fleet in front of her wasn’t one that had nuked a Human world, but it had wanted to. And now you will learn the folly of attacking us. Sensing someone was looking at her, Emilie turned to see Roche staring. She gave her Chief of Staff a reassuring smile that said not to worry. Emilie understood it was hard to wait for a battle to begin. Especially when the only two battles you have fought in were at Hiva’non and Ala’ron’s ambush, she reminded herself. Whereas she had fought in well over a hundred battles throughout the Karacknid War, she kept having to remember the vast majority of her fleet were still relatively green when it came to combat. Only her senior commanders and about a third of her Captains had actually seen action in the Karacknid war.

“Open a laser COM channel to the fleet,” Emilie requested, deciding her people should hear her voice. It couldn’t be easy for them to see an enemy fleet with twice their firepower bearing straight down on them. “Allied fleet, we have a little while yet to wait, and so I wanted to encourage you all to relax,” she said when the COM channel was open. “There is no need to get too tense just yet. And do not worry. We will not be fighting alone. Trust me as I have put my trust in you. Admiral Becket will not let us down, and nor will our comrades. Do your duty and we will win this day. This is not Ala’ron’s ambush, this is ours, and we will not be letting a single Flex-aor ship escape.”

“That should put some minds at ease,” Rodgers said from his command chair.

“We can’t all be as calm and collected as you, Captain,” Emilie said as she gave her Flag Captain a wink.

Rodgers chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is applying those words to me, Admiral. There is someone else they belong to. But with you in charge, I am at ease.”

Emilie shook her head in response as she rolled her eyes. “I hope you are still saying that when the missiles start flying.”

“So am I, Admiral,” Rodgers agreed. “So am I.”

For just over an hour, Emilie made herself exchange small talk with her staff officers and Rodger’s bridge officers to pass the time. All the while, she watched as Admiral Becket’s fleet slowly gained on the Flex-aor warships. If she wanted to, Emilie knew Becket could have closed the distance quicker, but smartly, Becket was keeping her distance. She couldn’t know exactly what Emilie had planned, nor even that Emilie’s ships were definitely in the Babylon IV system. Yet, it was the best system for an ambush on the Flex-aor fleet as it fled from Vestar, so Becket had to have a good idea of what was going to go down.

“More gravimetric contacts being picked up, Admiral,” Parker announced. “It’s Wing Commander Abrahams’ fighters.”

“And so it begins,” Emilie said as she saw her two hundred fighters that had just appeared on the far side of the Flex-aor fleet to Matilda’s position. Their appearance was the announcement to Becket of what Emilie planned. Becket responded just as Emilie expected. Within minutes, fighters from her fleet began to launch. They then formed into an attack wing, and set course for the Flex-aor fleet, timed to be able to launch an attack at the same time Becket’s fighters would be in range with their weapons. In total, the holo plot showed five hundred fighters closing in on the Flex-aor. If they were attacking alone, the odds wouldn’t have been much better than when Emilie had sent in Wing Commander Jeffers’s force to their deaths.

This time, Emilie felt far less concern for the vulnerable pilots, for they would not be alone, though she couldn’t help seeking out her cousin’s squadron. When her eyes found Georgia’s Hellcat, Emilie didn’t even feel a flicker of fear. Her cousin had proven herself to be an exceptional pilot. Go get them, she thought towards Georgia.

*

Very different thoughts were running through Squadron Leader Georgia Somerville’s mind. In her last battle, she had lost more than half her pilots. Four replacements had brought the strength of her squadron up to eight fighters. Yet, that only meant there were seven other pilots she was responsible for, seven pilots that could be dead by the end of her mission. The sight of three hundred Allied fighters forming up and forging ahead of Admiral Becket’s fleet eased her nerves slightly.

To an extent, she knew her concerns were irrational. The coming battle would be nothing like her last. At least, on paper anyway. But that was just the point, anything could go wrong. Remember your duty, Georgia told herself. You’re not the first to lose a lot of people under your command. A couple of weeks ago, Emilie had invited her onto Matilda for dinner. During their meal, her cousin had told her about losing her first command during the Karacknid War. She had also reminded Georgia about her father losing his first command Drake in the Second British Chinese War. They both picked up the pieces and held themselves together, Georgia thought forcefully. Now it is your turn.

Try as she might, however, Georgia couldn’t completely quell the fear she felt in her gut. In fact, as her squadron continued to accelerate towards the Flex-aor fleet, it only increased. Georgia couldn’t help staring at the fourteen hundred Flex-aor contacts and imagine how many point defensive guns they had.

A beep from her Hellcat’s gravimetric sensor distracted her momentarily. Real Admiral Armitage’s three hundred ships had just lit off their engines. Georgia could easily see the three large carriers in the heart of his formation. That was where her squadron would land once their part in the ambush was complete. Those of us that make it that far, Georgia couldn’t help thinking. Though she was far from an expert in fleet maneuvers, Georgia wasn’t surprised to see the Flex-aor alter course towards Armitage’s ships. Three hundred was nowhere near enough Allied ships to stop the Flex-aor from escaping the system, but if they managed to pull the Flex-aor into a long-range missile duel, it might give Admiral Becket’s fleet a chance to close to attack range. The Flex-aor commander intended to close the range and blast Armitage’s ships to pieces. In response, Admiral Becket’s fleet increased its acceleration rate as it sought to come to Armitage’s aide.

For their part, Rear Admiral Armitage’s ships didn’t try to flee from the Flex-aor, nor did they try to close the distance, either. Understandably, the Flex-aor launched more than a hundred active sensor drones and even pushed some of their faster frigates ahead of their fleet. Armitage’s unwillingness to disengage was almost suicidal if he didn’t have support.

Suspicious, the Flex-aor were checking the area. Though Georgia knew Emilie had more ships out there somewhere, she didn’t know where. Another forty minutes passed before the answer came. Suddenly, five hundred more contacts started moving. Georgia’s eyebrows rose when she saw how close they were to Rear Admiral Armitage’s ships. They’ll be able to provide point defensive support, she realized. Almost, Georgia felt sorry for the Flex-aor. Where they must have thought they were going to get a good chance of completely destroying Armitage’s fleet, even if it meant they would have to tangle with Admiral Becket’s fleet, now they were facing a very different prospect. To drive the point home, Emilie’s and Armitage’s fleets opened fire, launching twelve thousand mark VIIs at the Flex-aor.

Seconds later and new orders came in from Wing Commander Abrahams. Her squadron was to increase acceleration by sixteen percent along with the rest of the wing. Once her pilots confirmed they had received the order, she confirmed it with Abrahams. Unsurprisingly, as Abraham’s fighters increased acceleration, so too did the fighters from Admiral Becket’s fleet. Both sets of fighters were now going to hit the Flex-aor at the same time as Emilie’s missiles. It’s going to be a bloodbath, Emilie said to herself as she tried to lift her mood. But for who? A small voice in the back of her head couldn’t help but ask.

Georgia’s doubts continued with their as her fighter and squadron rushed towards the Flex-aor fleet. When they were ten minutes out, Abraham’s voice came over the wing’s command COM channel. “All right, Squadron Leaders, I’m assigning you your targets now. We’ll be entering their point defensive range just as Admiral Becket’s missiles are scheduled to begin detonating. If you can, I want your fighters to hold fire until it gets too hot. Let’s make every missile count. I don’t want any heroics, though; as soon as your missiles are away, pull out to safety.”

“Acknowledged, Commander. Starling squadron is green to begin our attack run,” Georgia said when it was her turn to speak. She then flicked the COM channel to her squadron’s. “Pilots, you should be receiving your targets. If you can manage it, you can close the distance before firing. Otherwise, fire at maximum range and get out of the danger zone…” Georgia hesitated. This was usually where she would say something cocky to motivate them. Yet, nearly half her pilots had been with her through Ala’ron’s ambush. They knew how bad it could get. What could she say to them? Silence filled the COM channel.

Just when she needed them, words from her mother floated into Georgia’s mind. ‘Courage is not a lack of fear, it is moving forward even when fear is pulling you back with every vestige of its strength.’ Georgia could easily remember what had brought forth her mother’s words. Growing up, she and her twin brother had constantly heard stories of how their father had fought the Karacknid Imperator. Yet, their parents had never let them watch the holo recording of the fight, not until their eighteenth birthdays had passed. When Georgia had first seen the gruesome image of Taranaki standing over her father, she had gasped. How could he face such a monster? she had asked as her hands had covered her mouth. Now, she thought she understood.

Suddenly, the words came to Georgia. “We have lost many friends to the Flex-aor. They have proven themselves deadly enemies. But, we are the ones who come to bring death and destruction this day. We may fear them, but I assure you, right now, they are fearing us more. Let us not disappoint them, Starlings.”

“Yes, Sir,” Starling Four said confidently.

“We are with you, Captain,” Starling Two added. “You will see us through.”

A stab of guilt hit Georgia. She knew she could see none of them through. Their confidence was misplaced. Yet, she couldn’t say anything. If she did anything to dent their confidence now, right before battle, it would all but guarantee their fate. Instead, she let her other pilots say what they wished, and then asked them all to confirm the targets they had been assigned. When she was happy everyone knew exactly what they were doing, she let her pilots return to their own thoughts. They were just minutes out from entering combat and each had their own process they went through to mentally prepare themselves.

In an effort to clear her own mind, Georgia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. She shook her head as it didn’t work. Her stomach was still in knots, and she couldn’t get the fear she felt for her pilots from her mind. Taking several deep breaths, she exhaled even slower. It still didn’t work. Panic started to rise to join her fear. If she couldn’t clear her own mind and get into what many pilots called the ‘zone,’ then she wouldn’t stand a chance against the Flex-aor fire.

Leaning forward, Georgia tried something different. Grabbing her flight stick, she began to carry out evasive maneuvers. Starting slowly, she quickly ran up her twisting and jinking to what she would do when under enemy fire. The movements came easily to her, yet her mind wouldn’t clear, and so they felt slow. It was only by fractions of a second, but she could sense the difference. It caused her panic to heighten. This is it, a small voice in the back of her mind told her. You’ve beaten the odds too many times already. Now it’s time to join the other Starlings.

The voice made Georgia angry. She tried to harness her anger to push down her panic, yet it didn’t take away her concern for her pilots nor the guilt she still felt for the ones she had already lost. Suddenly, before Georgia was even close to being ready, explosions started appearing around the Flex-aor fleet. They were engaging and destroying the anti-matter missiles Emilie’s mark VIIs had released. In seconds, Georgia knew fire would be directed at her Hellcat.

Still gripping her flight stick, she screamed as she couldn’t make herself fall into the trancelike state that she had come to rely upon. Before she knew it, laser beams and energy bolts began zipping past her fighter. Her eyes widened as she screamed at herself again. In rapid succession, her shield flared twice as two laser beams grazed them. Alarms filled Georgia’s ears. They told her she had already lost fifty percent of the ionized particles being projected in front of her fighter. One direct laser beam hit, and she would be smoke. Her mind went to her mother again, and then Edward and her other siblings. She had thought she was going to be lost to them when she had charged Ala’ron’s ambushing fleet. I can’t survive that to die like this, her thoughts roared at herself. They’ll never forgive you.

Mentally empathizing with her family filled Georgia with a sense of loss deeper than the guilt she felt for her pilots. As bad as she felt, her guilt had suddenly vanished. At once, Georgia sensed what had happened. Forcing her mother from her mind, she grabbed at her trancelike state as she sensed it approaching. With a sigh, her mind cleared. Her hand gripped her flight stick more loosely and her evasive maneuvers came without thought.

Georgia’s focus narrowed in on the Flex-aor battleship that was her primary target. Twisting and whirling, her fighter’s maneuvers were smoother and even more precise than ever before. Georgia did not even register the anti-matter warheads that started exploding in front of her as Imperial anti-ship missiles started detonating. When her Hellcat beeped to tell her she was in range to launch her missiles, she ignored it. From a child, she had played in the fighter simulators in the Palace. Always, she had imagined herself flying in the battle of Gayla, fighting alongside her father as he saved Humanity from their greatest enemy.

All of her time as a kid, all of her training at the academy, all of her battle experience came together in those few seconds. With ease, Georgia dodged everything fired at her. Almost, it felt like she could sense where the Flex-aor gunners were going to aim before they could. Twisting and weaving, she homed in on the Flex-aor battleship. Only when she feared she wouldn’t be able to pull up to avoid her own missiles did she fire. With a flick of her thumb, she released them both together. They took just four seconds to cover the distance to the battleship. No point defensive weapons could intercept them. Even as she pulled up, Georgia saw both strike home. As they detonated, anti-matter ate away the entire middle section of the warship. Straining her neck, Georgia shouted in victory as what remained of both ends of the battleship spun away from one another. She had done it!

Her shields flaring again snapped her back to the danger she was in. With all of the anti-ship missiles from Becket’s fleet and the fighters detonated, the Flex-aor were focusing their fire on the retreating fighters. Easily, she slipped back into her trance-like state. Though the fire was even more intense than when she had charged in towards the Flex-aor fleet, nothing more came close to threatening her. As soon as she was clear, Georgia activated her COM unit. “Starling squadron, check in,” she requested.

“Starling Two here,” Georgia’s wingman replied.

There was a pause that made Georgia’s gut tighten. But then, more of her pilots began to speak. Relief washed over her when all but one of her pilots confirmed they were still alive. “Great work, everyone,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “We showed them! Now let’s get back to our carriers in case we get a chance to hit them again.”

*

IS Matilda

Even Emilie was impressed by the level of destruction her attacks caused. At least four hundred anti-matter missiles had struck their targets. The Flex-aor fleet lost over a quarter of its fighting strength. It is already over, Emilie was certain, though she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t want her officers getting complacent.

Over the next hour, however, Emilie’s assessment proved correct. Her ships were able to slam two more mark VII missile salvos into the Flex-aor fleet before they came into range to fire their own missiles. By then, Emilie had the numerical parity with the Flex-aor. Her better missiles and defensive tech ensured the missile duel that ensued weighed heavily in her favor. Then, after four salvos had been exchanged, Becket’s fleet came into range. Just two more salvos finished the Flex-aor. Every single ship was wiped out for the cost of just forty-five fighters and eighty-three destroyed and seventy badly damaged ships.

“Let’s begin assisting our damaged ships,” Emilie ordered as soon as the last Flex-aor ship was destroyed. “We’ll take any ships that can’t get their engines working under tow. I don’t want to have to abandon a single ship if we can help it. And, send recovery teams to where our fighters fought the Flex-aor fleet. There may be pilots who managed to eject before their fighters were destroyed.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Roche replied.

“Admiral, I have Admiral Becket on a COM channel for you,” Lieutenant Brzezinski informed Emilie ten minutes later.

“Greetings, Admiral,” Emilie said to her old friend. “You steered them right into our hands.”

“And you were waiting for them perfectly,” Becket responded. “That’s one fleet that won’t be threatening an Imperial world anytime soon. Tell me, what is the fuel status on your ships?”

“Not great,” Emilie responded. “We had to rush to get here, and so weren’t able to stop at the last forward depot. We have some tankers with us, so most of my ships should be able to make it back to their stations. If I may, I’d like to send my damaged ships back to Haven and New Delhi, though. It would be too far for them to make for Connecticut.”

“That’s no problem, Admiral,” Becket said with a smile. “We’ll see what fuel we have to spare as well, I’m sure we can lend you some. We can let our subordinates work out the details. Would you like to join me for dinner before we part ways?”

“That would be a pleasure, Admiral. It may take us another hour or so to finish things here. But I can join you then?” Emilie replied.

“Then, we can speak more soon, and we can send a joint battle report back to Earth. I’m sure our Emperor will be pleased to hear from the both of us,” Becket said.

Emilie flashed Becket a grin. “I’m sure he will,” she said before she ended the COM channel.

“Admiral, you might want to have a look at this,” Roche said, once repairs had begun on all of Emilie’s damaged ships and recovery operations were completed.

Leaning forward, Emilie tapped one of the displays on her command chair to bring up the file Roche had sent her. She frowned when she saw it was a recording from one of the Hellcats that had attacked the Flex-aor fleet. As it played, she noticed the name of the pilot. It was Georgia. Emilie was confused. She had already confirmed that Georgia had survived the battle and was already back on her carrier. Even knowing that though, as Georgia’s shield flared from enemy laser fire, Emilie held her breath.

What happened next, however, made her mouth fall open. After the two hits, Georgia’s fighter started to spin and twist like nothing Emilie had seen before. She glanced up at Roche, Emilie didn’t even know how Georgia had managed to stay conscious from all the g-forces she must have been experiencing. On the recording, the Flex-aor fleet was easily identifiable in front of Georgia’s fighter. Moments later and hundreds of missiles also appeared, clearly from the fighters around Georgia.

Yet, Emilie’s cousin didn’t fire. Instead, even as the point defense of fire started taking out the missiles, Georgia continued to twist and weave. It seemed like the fire focused on her dramatically intensified, yet nothing hit her. Only at the very last second did two missiles appear from Georgia’s Hellcat. They slammed into a battleship even as Georgia pulled up and away. “What did I just watch?” Emilie asked as she looked up at Roche again.

Roche shook her head. “I’m not sure I can explain it, Admiral, but that is what happened. She flew right into point-blank range and slammed those two missiles down the Flex-aor battleship’s throat. It was a miracle she survived.”

“A miracle, indeed,” Emilie repeated, though she wasn’t convinced. From the way Georgia had flown, it looked like nothing could have touched her. Emilie had seen hundreds of fighters carry out attack runs on many enemy fleets. Yet, she had not seen anything like that. That girl has something special, Emilie decided. I wonder can we teach it? When she pulled up the most recent information on her cousin, wanting to request a meeting, she was disappointed to find Starling squadron’s pocket carrier had suffered a proximity hit. Archimedes was in the squadron of ships that would be heading to New Delhi for repairs. Pulling out her datapad, Emilie transferred the recording to it. She would take it with her to dinner and show Becket just what Georgia had done. She knew her friend wouldn’t believe it otherwise.

Chapter 20

Until the discovery of the Sun Gates, the Gift wormholes provided the fastest mode of travel in the galaxy. Until the Eaglatons demonstrated otherwise, no one thought the wormholes could be closed.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Achilles, 7th October 2509 AD, (same time).

“Something is not right, Captain,” Munroe said within moments of Achilles’ jumping out of shift space. Not knowing how sensitive Eaglaton gravimetric sensors were, Jonathan had exited shift space nine light hours from the Gift wormhole. Yet, even at this range, it was obvious something was up with the wormhole.

“What are we looking at?” Jonathan asked as he stared at the data coming in from the gravimetric sensors.

“That’s just it, Captain,” Munroe explained. “We are seeing almost nothing. The gravimetric eddies, the wormhole’s event horizon itself, we’re detecting no sign of either of them. Yet, there is definitely still a lot of gravimetric disturbances out there, but it’s not nearly as violent as what we detected when we travelled through the wormhole on the way to Bastion.”

“Like the gravimetric storms have been dampened?” Lydia asked.

Munroe nodded. “That’s how I’d describe it. If I had to guess what the Eaglaton anti-eddies would do if they were created near to the Gift’s eddies, I think we’re looking at it. I don’t think anything could traverse through the wormhole, if it is even still open.”

“And what about the other side?” Jonathan asked. “Will they know anything is wrong? What would happen to ships if they tried to come through?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I have no idea,” Monroe said as he shook his head. “The other side of the wormhole could be closed as well. Or at least, it could look unstable enough that no one in their right mind would try to go through it. But if it is still open, I doubt anything good would happen to the ships that do try to go through.”

Jonathan took a deep breath. If ships did try to go through and had been destroyed, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. It had taken a week to carry out enough repairs to Achilles to enable her to continue her journey to the wormhole after their battle with the Eaglaton cruiser. Even then, his destroyer had only been able to manage seventy percent of her maximum speed. Gifosous had to have beaten them to the wormhole by nine or maybe even ten days. In that time, an entire squadron of warships could have tried to traverse the wormhole and been destroyed. There is nothing you can do about the past, his mother’s voice said to him. You can only impact your future. Exhaling slowly as he pushed the guilt he felt away, Jonathan turned to Scholes. “Set course for the wormhole’s entrance, keep us in stealth, but I want us moving as fast as possible.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes replied.

“Captain, are you sure?” Cortez asked just loud enough for Jonathan to hear. “We haven’t detected the Eaglaton ships, but they are bound to be there.”

“I’m sure they are,” Jonathan said as he turned to his First Lieutenant. “But what else would you have us do? Every hour that wormhole remains closed, Imperial ships could be lost. And for sure, every hour it remains closed, news of the Protectorate invasion fleet is not reaching Earth. We must destroy Gifosous’ ship, no matter the cost.”

“But what about Rear Admiral Salamanca?” Lydia asked, obviously listening in despite Jonathan and Cortez’ low voices. “McMasters must have reached Bastion by now. Salamanca probably has ships on their way here. We are in no condition to take on another Eaglaton light cruiser, never mind Gifosous’ larger ship as well. We could wait for reinforcements.”

“And if they never come?” Jonathan asked as he swiveled in his chair to face Lydia. He shook his head. “Or what if Gifosous’ ships are just an advanced force? There could be hundreds more warships coming. If the Eaglatons are the dominant race in their Protectorate, it makes sense they have the fastest ships. Gifosous could have been sent ahead to close the wormhole while a larger fleet follows to secure their position. No. Time is of the essence. We must act now.”

Lydia grimaced, but nevertheless, gave James a slight nod. “If this is what you deem necessary, Captain, then we will back you.” She glanced over to Cortez who was nodding as well.

“We have beaten one Eaglaton light cruiser. I am sure we can do it again,” Cortez said, though Jonathan wasn’t too sure if her confidence was real or forced.

“We are certainly going to try,” Jonathan said as he smiled. “Though, I was thinking maybe we’d attempt something a little different than a straight-up missile duel this time. Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said as he explained to his two senior officers the idea he had been rolling around in his head.

“I’ll start making the necessary alterations right away,” Lydia said when Jonathan was finished. “The timing will need to be just right.”

“And we better get working on your script,” Cortez said. “We’ve got limited information to work from.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Jonathan said, resolve filling his voice. Whether his idea worked or not, he was determined to bring Gifosous’ ship to battle. He hadn’t shared it with Cortez and Lydia, but all he needed to do was damage the larger Eaglaton vessel. He had talked to Munroe extensively about it on their journey to the wormhole. However the Eaglaton gravimetric anti-eddies worked, the system had to be extremely complex. If they could just damage Gifosous’ ship, then there was a good chance it wouldn’t be able to keep the wormhole closed. If it cost him Achilles, he would settle for that.

Four hours passed as Achilles slowly accelerated towards the wormhole, building up her momentum. Within an hour, the preparations had been made, and so everyone on the bridge sat in silence, watching the Gift slowly grow closer. “I think we’re detecting something now,” Munroe reported. “Pretty sure these here are gravimetric anti-eddies,” he said as he pointed to a secondary holo display. “They only come into existence for a few seconds before dissipating. I’d guess they are collapsing as they interact with the wormhole.”

“Their source is where Gifosous’ ships must be then?” Jonathan asked.

Monroe nodded. “I’d say so, Captain.”

Glancing at Scholes, Jonathan nodded for Achilles’ course to be altered slightly.

“Three minutes until go time,” Lieutenant Rutherford updated Jonathan.

“Count me in,” Jonathan requested. Clearing his throat, he then mentally went through what he wanted to say. When Rutherford gestured to him, he swallowed and began. “Commodore Gifosous, I’m afraid Captain Honras and his crew are dead. Your ships are no match for an Imperial warship. By attacking my ship and closing the wormhole, you have carried out acts of war against the Human Empire. Power down your ships now and back away from the wormhole, and perhaps a mediated peace can still be worked out. Failure to do so will result in your destruction. Power down now, and end this before more of your people have to die.”

“Transmission away, Captain,” Rutherford said moments later. “Forty seconds until it reaches them.”

“Drone has just gone active,” Schmidt added.

On the holo display, a new contact appeared right behind Achilles. Moving much slower than Jonathan’s destroyer, the drone was quickly left in Achilles’ wake. However, its engines were giving off far more thrust than Achilles’, and her electronic profile almost exactly matched Achilles before her battle with Honras’ ship. The slight change made her appear as if she had suffered a little damage, far less than she really had, however.

Whilst Jonathan’s message took forty seconds to reach the point where they thought Gifosous’ ships were, the Eaglaton Commodore detected the drones’ gravimetric signature and responded almost immediately. Another new contact appeared on the holo display as one ship lay in an intercept course for the drone and began to accelerate.

“Contact Alpha one has a very similar drive signature to Honras’ light cruiser, it must be the other Eaglaton warship,” Schmidt reported.

Jonathan nodded. It was the reaction he expected. Similarly, he wasn’t surprised when Gifosous sent a COM reply to his message. “Captain Somerville, it seems I have underestimated you. Captain Honras was a capable commander. I am impressed that you bested him. However, I see your ship is damaged. I have ordered Captain Moresal to intercept and destroy you. You will not be allowed to interfere with my mission any further. Your fleet has conquered all the systems it is going to this side of the wormhole. Turn back or be destroyed.”

Quickly, Jonathan scanned through the various recordings he had made over the last several hours. “Number nineteen,” he said to Rutherford. Rutherford nodded and tapped his COM console. A command was sent from Achilles back to the drone via a laser COM connection. The drone then transmitted Jonathan’s message. “Commodore Gifosous, your light cruiser will suffer the same fate Captain Honras’ ship did. Then I will engage and destroy your ship. I have no desire to fight you. But if you insist on making yourself my enemy, then I will not hesitate. You have been warned.”

“That should work,” Lydia said with a grin. “A pretty sly idea, Captain.”

“Let’s just wait and see,” Jonathan replied, not wanting to get too carried away. One of the main problems with disguising a drone as a warship was that it was hard to keep the ruse going for long. With luck, his two communications would help with that. The difference in time delays between each message would make it appear that Jonathan was speaking from the drone’s location, rather than from where Achilles really was. Now we just have to hope it works for long enough, Jonathan thought to himself as he stared at the Eaglaton light cruiser. It was accelerating hard towards the drone and so towards Achilles. Meanwhile, though still in stealth, his destroyer was constantly increasing its momentum, just as it had been doing for the last four hours.

“How soon do you think they’ll detect us?” Schmidt asked ten minutes later as he turned to Rutherford at the COM console, though he was loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear. “My guess is another seventy-six minutes.”

“You’re wanting me to guess?” Rutherford asked.

Schmidt shrugged. He then glanced it at the other officers. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be. What else have we to do?”

Jonathan’s first urge was to shoot down Schmidt’s idea. His officers were about to enter a battle it was likely none of them would survive. So then, what’s the problem? He asked himself before speaking. Let them have a few moments of fun. Turning to Cortez, Jonathan glanced with his head for her to give her opinion. No one had spoken, and he guessed they wouldn’t until either he or Cortez signaled it was okay.

“I think you’re underestimating them, I’ll take sixty-nine minutes,” Cortez said. Within moments every other officer was voicing their opinion as Schmidt took note of each person’s guess.

Though he didn’t voice it, Jonathan guessed they wouldn’t have more than fifty-five minutes. Honras had proven the Eaglatons built advanced warships and that they knew how to use them. Still he couldn’t help hoping for more. The longer it took for the ruse to be discovered, the more chance Achilles would have to slip past the enemy light cruiser.

When Schmidt’s timer passed forty-eight minutes, twenty new contacts appeared on the holo plot. Their sudden appearance made Jonathan sit up. “They came from the light cruiser,” Schmidt reported.

“They’re spreading out in a search pattern,” Lydia added. “They must be recon drones.”

“I think your game is over, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said to Schmidt. “They know something is up.”

“But they haven’t detected us yet,” Cortez pointed out. “They are looking for us. If they knew where we were, they’d already be decelerating.”

“Indeed,” Jonathan agreed. “Perhaps luck might just be on our side. The one place they probably won’t be looking is directly in front of the drone.”

“More new contacts,” Schmidt announced thirty seconds later. “It looks like more recon drones. They are coming from the entrance to the wormhole.”

“Gifosous’ ship,” Jonathan guessed. “They are scared we have already slipped past their light cruiser.” He could easily imagine Gifosous’ concern. Sadly, Achilles wasn’t that stealthy. But soon you may just have to worry for real, Jonathan thought towards his adversary.

It took another eight minutes for the Eaglaton light cruiser to discover Achilles. The evidence that she had was her nose flipping one hundred and eighty degrees as she tried to rapidly decelerate. “Come out of stealth, maximum acceleration!” Jonathan ordered as soon as he saw it. As Achilles roared into life, the holo display updated to project the new courses of both combatants.

“Four salvos,” Lydia reported. “They’ll be able to get off four salvos.” Her tone was far from confident.

Jonathan felt the same. They had only been able to replace or repair eighty percent of Achilles’ point defenses in the last three weeks. Ignoring his fears, Jonathan patted his command chair. “She can handle four salvos. She has got us this far. The Imperial Fleet knows how to build them strong. Come on, people. Let’s hit her hard as we pass. We don’t want this light cruiser interfering when we catch up to Gifosous’ ship, now do we?”

“No, Sir,” Cortez responded forcefully. “So let’s be about it, people.”

As if a spell had been broken, everyone swung themselves back to their consoles. Jonathan winked at Lydia. It was obvious her concerns weren’t fully gone. She smiled at him, and then nodded as she turned back to her console as well. Jonathan then shared a look with Cortez. His First Lieutenant was starting to understand. It didn’t matter how much damage they took. As long as they got past the light cruiser and into range of Gifosous, that was what counted.

“Shall we deploy our PD drone ahead of the ship?” Schmidt asked.

Jonathan nodded. “We may as well try and breakup the formation of their missiles.” He wished he still had both PD drones, but they had been unable to recover one after the battle with Honras. “Any other suggestions to get us through this?”

“What about our shuttles?” Rutherford suggested. “We don’t really need them to take out Gifosous’ ship. And we’ve already stripped them of their weapons.”

Jonathan slapped his hands together. “An excellent idea. We can overload their reactors and engines, and use them as decoys. Liaise with Chief Higgins and make the arrangements, Lieutenant.”

“Right away, Captain,” Rutherford replied excitedly.

“I was thinking about your idea to engage Honras’ light cruiser. The one we didn’t get to use,” Lydia said. “Maybe we could use it against one of their missile salvos. Maybe the third one, if they have more powerful close-range missiles, that’s the one we would want to hit.”

Jonathan thought about it. He had been hoping to damage the light cruiser as much as possible, but Lydia was right. Getting past it was all that mattered. “Do it,” he approved with a nod.

“What if we faked some serious damage?” Cortez asked. “Say after their second salvo. Like you did against that Flex-aor freighter. They might hold their fire, even try to board us. Then we could let our momentum carry us past them.”

Jonathan wanted to like the idea, but he shook his head. “I can’t see it working. They know keeping the wormhole closed is critical to launching any kind of successful attack against Bastian. They won’t risk letting us get past the light cruiser and close to Gifosous’ ship. I fear they would blast us apart before that.”

“But what if we surrendered?” Scholes added. “We fake more serious damage and then surrender. Honras offered for us to surrender before. It might have been a ruse, but these Eaglatons seems to take being honorable seriously. Maybe they would accept. Then, even if they ordered us to cut our engines, our momentum would carry us out of missile range of the light cruiser. We could then go for Gifosous.”

Jonathan found himself conflicted as he looked from Scholes to Cortez. Pretending to be damaged was one thing, outright lying to Gifosous was another. It just felt wrong. Picturing his father, Jonathan felt sure he wouldn’t approve. But what about the alternative? Jonathan asked himself. If they destroy us and the wormhole is closed, all of Salamanca’s fleet could be destroyed, not to mention the Imperial ships in Conclave space and the Conclave fleet as well.

“We will be setting a very dangerous precedent,” Cortez said slowly as she thought through the idea. “If we do this, I doubt the Eaglatons will ever accept a surrender from an Imperial warship again. I know we are not used to the possibility of surrendering because of the Karacknid War. But if this is going to escalate, then we could be condemning tens of thousands of spacers on damaged ships that the Eaglatons will just destroy instead of taking prisoners.”

“A valid point,” Jonathan said as he continued to wrestle with the moral dilemma. In one sense, what was the difference between pretending to be destroyed and lying outright? Was there a difference in deceiving someone with your actions instead of with your words? He wasn’t sure. But Cortez is right, if we do it, we’d be responsible for thousands of deaths. And yet, if we fail, many more will die. Jonathan couldn’t help but think back to the many 18th century naval warfare books his father had given him to read as a teenager. They had belonged to his father’s uncle whom Jonathan was named after. Jonathan was sure none of the fictional Captains in those stories would have approved. But we don’t have the same moral etiquette with the Eaglatons, Jonathan thought, even as a piece of him wondered if they could.

“I think,” Jonathan said and then paused. “I think it too risky. Too risky for us and for them. If we fake a surrender, we’d have to power down all our systems to make it believable. We don’t really know these Eaglatons. One missile from them and we’d be done for. And think about it, why wouldn’t they? Their entire invasion strategy has to be riding on keeping the wormhole closed. Letting us past them, even if we have surrendered, would be a great risk. I doubt they would take it. No,” Jonathan said as his voice firmed up. “We’re going to do everything we can to get past them, but not that.”

As he turned to Cortez and then Lydia, Jonathan saw relief on both their faces. They had been feeling his dilemma as well. Thinking of his father, a part of Jonathan felt guilty that they had even considered it. A small voice wondered what he would have chosen if he had thought the idea more tactically viable. Alarms silenced the voice before he could respond to it. The Eaglaton light cruiser had fired. Twelve contacts were inbound!

Chapter 21

Though many things have changed in naval warfare since the founding of the Empire, the primacy of the missile has remained the same.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“Steady,” Jonathan said to his officers. “These will be their stand-off bomb-pumped grazer warheads. We can engage and dodge them.”

“Pushing the PD drone ahead of us now,” Lydia reported.

“Launch two of our recon drones, move them away from Achilles and use their active sensor to help us get a better fix on the incoming missiles,” Jonathan ordered. “We’ll use two more for the next salvo, and then go for four after that.” Achilles had just twelve recon drones left. None of them had the acceleration rates to keep up with his destroyer, but given the circumstances, like Achilles’ shuttles, they were expendable.

“Firing our first salvo of mark VIIs,” Schmidt announced just before eight new missiles appeared on the holo plot.

Though he knew it was a long shot, Jonathan desperately hoped one of them could cause some serious damage. Before he got to find out, however, the Eaglaton missiles entered point defense range. Flak cannon rounds and Achilles’ arc emitter destroyed four. Plasma bolts dissected another two. Then hundreds of AM missiles and laser beams hunted down the rest. All but one was destroyed. Detonating, it sent a grazer beam piercing towards Achilles. Last-minute evasive maneuvers from Lieutenant Scholes caused the beam to shoot wide. Everyone on Achilles’ bridge cheered, even Jonathan.

“Our missiles are entering range of their defenses,” Lydia reported, bringing the celebration to an end.

Groans followed seconds later as the Eaglaton light cruiser’s guns took out all but two of the anti-matter missiles. Though both tried to score direct hits, they both failed. Instead, they detonated as close to the cruiser as they could. “No damage detected,” Lydia announced seconds later, eliciting more groans. “The anti-matter didn’t make contact with their hull.”

“The next enemy salvo approaches,” Cortez said loudly, forcing everyone’s minds back to their responsibilities.

Even as she spoke, Schmidt fired another salvo of mark VIIs. Then Achilles had to defend herself once more. Three missiles got close enough to release their grazer beams. Jonathan swore as he felt one strike his ship. The damage alarms he feared began to sound around him.

“We suffered a direct hit amidships,” Cortez called out. “Our shield deflected much of the beam’s strength. We have a hull breach on deck seven, however. Emergency bulkheads have sealed the area.” Cortez turned round to Jonathan. “I’m expecting casualty reports as soon as repair team gets there. We have lost more point defenses and sensor nodes as well.”

Jonathan nodded as he ground his teeth together. The casualties emotionally hurt the most, yet Achilles couldn’t afford to lose more defenses. They would cost more in the long term. Feeling his anger grow, Jonathan turned to watch his second salvo strike home. He pumped his fist and roared when one missile managed to bathe the Eaglaton cruiser in anti-matter. Though it flew through the destructive energies intact, armor and hull section were visibly missing. Even so, it fired another full salvo of twelve missiles within thirty seconds of surviving Achilles’ attack. On the holo plot, the missiles looked different to any Achilles had detected before. Jonathan mentally nodded. He had been expecting this. The Eaglatons did have more powerful close-range missiles. He immediately turned to Schmidt. “Are you ready?”

“Aye, Captain,” Schmidt replied. “I’m keeping them fanned out until the last second.”

“Good,” Jonathan said with a nod. “Cortez, ready the shuttles. Launch them thirty seconds before the survivors enter defense range.” As soon as Cortez acknowledged his command, his attention returned to the holo display. Achilles’ third salvo was quickly approaching the Eaglaton’s third group of missiles. Though Schmidt could have fired their more deadly mark VIIIs, they were mark VIIs instead. The reason why became clear when, in response to a command from Schmidt, the mark VIIs released their second stage warheads early. The twenty-four anti-matter missiles then formed up into a perfect rectangular formation. The Eaglaton’s response was swift. Their missiles began to scatter. Even as they did so, the anti-matter missiles detonated, releasing a wave of anti-matter. Nearly half of the Eaglaton missiles were engulfed in it and disappeared. After scattering, the rest closed with one another again, and matched each other’s velocity.

Jonathan didn’t know why he was so sure, but he had a grim expression on his face when he turned to Cortez, “I think we’re still going to need our shuttles. Launch them now.”

In the space of thirty seconds, Achilles’ two shuttles took off from her two hangers. Their engines were being strained beyond their safety limits as they tried to keep up with the destroyer. “Look!” Schmidt shouted, horror filling his voice. “The Eaglaton missiles!”

Jonathan’s breath caught in his throat. The seven remaining Eaglaton missiles had just split apart. Each had released ten smaller missiles. Suddenly, there were seventy contacts being tracked by Achilles’ sensors. Jonathan’s eyes widened when he saw the speed at which they were accelerating. He shared a desperate glance with Cortez. There was no way Achilles could shoot them all down. Even without the damage she had suffered in the last attack, or even in the battle with the other Eaglaton light cruiser, it would have been a tall order. Now it was impossible. Cortez’ face told him she had already come to the same conclusion.

All of a sudden, a strange calmness descended upon Jonathan. Almost certain he was staring his death in the face, he realized he didn’t care. In the grand scheme of things, defeating Gifosous was all that mattered. “Listen up everyone,” he said to his officers, certain the same thoughts were going through their heads. “Whether we weather this incoming salvo or not, our duty has not changed. Our mission is to destroy Gifosous’ ship and open the wormhole. Either we will succeed, or we will die trying. That is out of our hands. All we can do is fight this ship the best we can. So forget about the number of enemy missiles. Focus on your next task, and then the one after that. Fight with all your might. If we are to go down to this salvo, we will take as many missiles with us as physically possible. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, Captain,” Lydia replied loudly without a moment’s hesitation. “Won’t we, Achilles?”

All of Jonathan’s officers roared their assent. “Engaging now!” Schmidt added seconds later as Achilles’ point defenses hurled everything they had at the swarm of incoming contacts.

Jonathan grabbed his command chair. He knew it wasn’t a question of whether Achilles was going to suffer a hit, but of how many. Explosions filled space around Achilles as her point defensive weapons struck target after target. Then, just before the remaining missiles dove in towards Achilles, the holo display was suddenly filled with huge amounts of energy. Cortez had just overloaded the shuttles’ reactors. Eaglaton missiles pivoted towards them, blowing them apart. However, five never lost lock on Achilles. The first two struck home, blasting down the destroyer’s weakened shield. Two of the last three only came close enough to attempt proximity hits. Getting within a hundred meters of Achilles’ hull, they detonated and sent their explosive energy crashing against the destroyer’s armor. The final missile matched Scholes’ evasive maneuvers. Smashing into Achilles, the missile punched halfway through her armor and then exploded.

The shockwave flung Jonathan around in his command chair. Despite the tightness of his restraints, Jonathan’s left arm was ripped from its socket. The pain made him gasp. Almost immediately, his augments released painkillers to lessen the agony. Still, his left shoulder and arm felt completely numb. Though he felt it all happening to him, Jonathan barely registered it. Instead, he was looking at all the readouts from his ship. Damage reports were coming in from multiple sections along Achilles’ port side from her nose all the way to her impulse engines. It looked like there were multiple hull breaches and at least three missile ports were not responding at all.

Desperately, Jonathan looked around at his officers. Rutherford was slumped over his COM console. Lydia was feeling at a large gash along her forehead. Schmidt and Cortez looked bright and alert, however. “Roll the ship,” Jonathan ordered. “Focus all our efforts on our point defenses. We need to get as many operating again as possible!” He added as he shouted above the din of the bridge. “And someone see to Rutherford.”

The next few moments were hectic as Jonathan struggled with his officers to get to grips with how bad the damage was. He cursed when he saw two of his three impulse engines had lost all power. He hoped they were still functioning, but there was no way to know. Nearly half of his destroyer’s port point defenses were gone. The starboard defenses weren’t in much better shape. Within minutes, more than twenty casualties had been confirmed. Jonathan had to force them from his mind, however. The only thing that mattered was getting as many point defenses as possible operating again, for Achilles still had one final salvo of the Eaglaton’s grazer warheads to weather.

“I don’t think I’m going to get any more missile tubes functioning,” Schmidt reported.

“Then fire what you have,” Jonathan responded without even checking how many tubes were loaded. Seconds later, he saw just six missiles shoot out into space towards the Eaglaton cruiser. Get us some payback, he thought towards the missiles. Then his mind returned to Achilles’ point defenses. With just three minutes until the next salvo arrived, Jonathan slaved two of the recently repaired point defense plasma cannons to his command chair, their gunners were dead or injured. Running them through a quick diagnostic and then firing drill, he looked up to Cortez. “I’m ready here.”

“So are we,” Cortez said as she gestured to other officers who were likewise preparing themselves.

With a nod, Jonathan turned back to his command console. Schmidt was already assigning missiles to various gunners. Sighting in on his target, Jonathan watched as flak cannon rounds and then balls of electricity from the arc emitters reached out to the enemy missiles. After the first wave of long-range AM missiles detonated, it was his turn. Cycling the plasma cannons as quickly as they would fire, he shot a couple of hundred bolts at the missile. Though he was rustier than he would have liked, he had spent hundreds of hours training with similar defensive weapons as an ensign and Sub Lieutenant. Blasting at the missile with bolt after bolt, he tried to anticipate its evasive maneuvers. Through skill or luck, he scored a hit seconds later.

Jonathan couldn’t help himself letting out a shout of victory. It was short-lived, however. As he searched for another target, he saw four missiles still remained. His console told him they were just three seconds out from detonation range. Desperately, he fired as many bolts as his plasma cannons would allow at the nearest missile. They all flew wide. Someone else scored a hit on one of the other missiles. The final two detonated. Immediately, Jonathan was flung back in his command chair. Shrieks filled his ears as Achilles herself groaned as whatever explosive force the missile released pierced through her hull and melted internal bulkheads and struts.

The sound was so intense that for a moment, Jonathan thought his command was about to be ripped in two. His whole body tensed expecting to be sucked out into space. Yet, sudden death didn’t come. Instead, the screeching gave way to the more familiar sound of damage alarms. It took Jonathan a few seconds to realize Achilles hadn’t been destroyed. “We did it!” he called out to his crew, amazement filling his voice. As his officers started to turn to him, the same amazement was written on their faces. “We did it!” Jonathan repeated. We got past them.” A hardness filled his voice. “Now we only have the smallest of windows. We need to get Achilles ready to fight again. Gifosous’ ship can’t be more than twenty minutes out. Only essential systems get priority for repairs. And I want a status update on our offensive weapons as soon as possible. Get me a fix on Gifosous’ ship as well.”

“Chief Higgins already has a report on our engines,” Cortez informed him less than thirty seconds alter. “Two of our impulse engines are gone. That last hit took out the power lines to our third as well. We only have maneuvering thrusters, and we’ve lost more than forty of them.”

“Our missile tubes haven’t fared much better,” Schmidt reported. “We’ve lost all but three on our port side, whilst we still have five of our starboard ones functional. Though two of them have taken damage, they won’t be able to reload very quickly. As for the point defenses, they are a mess,” Schmidt added as he shook his head. “I’m not sure we will be able to get an accurate picture of what state they are in, in the time we have.”

Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists. They had come so far. Even though the Eaglaton light cruiser was no doubt decelerating as hard as it could, it wouldn’t be able to catch them. Achilles’ momentum was just too high. Yet, without engines and missile tubes, what can we do to Gifosous? Jonathan asked himself in desperation.

“I think I can see Gifosous’ ship,” Lydia reported within a minute. Jonathan looked at her; she had a trail of blood running from her forehead down her nose. She reached up with a hand to wipe her lip clean as her other hand pointed to a secondary display. “She is still right in front of the entrance to the wormhole, at least, where the entrance used to be. Our active sensors are only operating at forty percent efficiency, but she is still there.”

“She can’t move,” Jonathan realized, hope returning to him. “If she does, the wormhole will open again, and the Gift Garrison Fleet may send ships through to investigate. What is the status of our energy weapons?”

“We have two plasma cannons operational, one laser cannon and all our mass drivers are still intact,” Cortez answered at once.

Jonathan nodded slowly as he met the eyes of his officers. “That is enough. Momentum is taking us straight towards Gifosous’ ship. He can’t move. We’re going to close right to energy weapon range and rip his ship apart.” One by one, Achilles’ bridge officers nodded at Jonathan to show they understood. If they tried what Jonathan intended, Achilles would be torn apart, too. Yet, it was the price they had to pay. “All right then,” Jonathan said as he nodded back. “Send the word to our crew, I want everyone whose job is not essential to what we are about to attempt brought to the center of the ship. They’ll be safest there. We’ll use our missiles to try and take out whatever missiles they fire. Use our anti-matter missiles again. All we have to do is survive long enough to reach energy weapon range. That is it. Achilles will hold together for us; I know she will. We just have to be ready to hit them when we get there. Lydia, scan that ship with every active sensor we have left. I want to know where its reactors are. We’re going to fire everything at them. If we can knock out her power, she won’t be able to produce her anti-eddies.”

“Missile launches,” Schmidt announced before anyone could respond to Jonathan.

Everyone swung around to see how many Gifosous’ ship could fire. A coldness settled onto Jonathan as he saw fourteen contacts speeding towards Achilles. Fourteen Eaglaton long range missiles Achilles could maybe handle. But when Gifosous’ fired his shorter-range missiles, his destroyer was going to be in a world of hurt. “You all know what we need to do,” Jonathan said, breaking his officers out of the spell that Gifosous’ missiles had cast on them. “Now is the time to prove our mettle.”

The next fourteen minutes passed excruciatingly slowly for Jonathan. For once, it seemed to take an age for the first two salvos of Eaglaton missiles to reach Achilles. All he wanted to do was get past them and into energy weapon range. Yet, they had to be faced. Both salvos were attacked by anti-ship missiles fired from Achilles, and then what was left of her point defenses engaged them. Each time, nearly half of the missiles survived to detonate and send grazer beams lancing towards Achilles. Scholes couldn’t dodge them all, and Achilles suffered three hits. With her shield no longer intact, each one burnt through armor, hull, and internal decks.

When the third Eaglaton salvo was fired, Jonathan’s mouth fell open. Gifosous hadn’t fired shorter-range missiles. The fourteen contacts were their bomb-pumped laser warheads! Jonathan swung around to Lydia for confirmation.

She knew what he wanted to know without having to ask. “Yes, Captain, our sensors are not mistaken,” she said with a grin. “They didn’t fire their more deadly missiles.”

“We have a chance!” Jonathan said, hope filling his voice. Gifosous’ ships must not have carried the shorter-range missiles. It was the only reason they wouldn’t have fired them. One more salvo, he thought towards his command. You just have to survive one more salvo. As the enemy missiles came crashing in, two more beams ripped into Achilles. Alarms and a tearing sound made Jonathan think one beam was about to burn its way right to the bridge. But other than being flung around, reminding him of how badly injured his arm was, nothing more serious happened.

“We have tons more damage,” Cortez called out. “But we are still here. I’m not sure how many systems are still working, but we are still here!”

“The energy weapons?” Jonathan asked as he spun to Schmidt.

“We’ve lost two more laser beams, but the rest are still operational,” Achilles’ tactical officer replied.

Ignoring the many displays showing all of Achilles’ damage, Jonathan focused his eyes on the one that still tracked Gifosous’ ship. “Then lock everything onto that target,” he ordered. “Fire as soon as we get into range.”

“I’m detecting energy spikes from Gifosous’ ship,” Lydia reported, her eyebrows were furrowed as she peered at her sensor console. “I’m not sure what their doi…” she cut off when the Eaglaton ship went fuzzy. “ECM, they have just activated some very powerful ECM,” she called out.

“Can you overcome it?” Jonathan asked.

“Working on it,” Lydia replied without looking up. A moment later she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not in time. All I can do is try and lessen its impact. But we’re going to struggle to get a firm lock.”

Jonathan desperately looked at the main holo display. They were just ten seconds from reaching energy weapon range. Turning to his tactical officer, he locked eyes with Schmidt. “Do your best, Lieutenant. That’s all you can do now.”

Schmidt gave Jonathan a firm nod. “Aye, aye Captain.”

Before Jonathan could really gather his thoughts, heavy plasma bolts, then laser beams, and then mass driver rounds were hurled from his command. Energy spikes from Gifosous’ ship indicated she had fired some kind of high-powered weapon as well. Just as Jonathan registered that fact, Achilles was struck by something. Once again, he was hurled around in his command chair. His left arm struck something, and new lightning bolts of pain shot up into his shoulder. The force of the impact on Achilles was so great that Jonathan almost lost consciousness from the sudden g-forces.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, Jonathan strained to see what was happening on the main holo display. It was blank, however. A moment later, the power went out on Achilles’ bridge. Emergency lighting came on. Jonathan tried to get the sensor data coming from whatever sensors remained sent to his command chair. Lydia beat him to the data. “We hit them!” she called out. “Detecting multiple heat blooms.” Jonathan held his breath. He was hoping for secondary explosions. Seconds went by and none came. “They are still producing anti-eddies,” Lydia said as her voice fell. “But their ECM has failed.”

“Do we have any weapons still functioning?” Jonathan asked desperately, afraid of the answer.

“Just a laser beam and two mass drivers are reporting in, Captain,” Schmidt responded at once.

“This is it, then,” Jonathan said solemnly as he looked at his officers. “We hit them again and then they will finish us. Make each beam count, Lieutenant Schmidt. We are going to go out fighting. That is an order.”

“It was a pleasure to serve with you, Captain,” Cortez said

“Wait!” Lydia shouted from her sensor console. “They are moving. They’ve had enough, they’re pulling away and carrying out evasive maneuvers.”

“The wormhole, Captain,” Scholes shouted. “It’s reopening. The event horizon has appeared again.”

Jonathan swung around to one of the secondary holo displays. Sure enough, the wormhole was being picked up on by the gravimetric sensors again. His eyes widened when he realized Achilles was heading right for it! “Brace for wormhole travel!” he ordered. “Schmidt, fire if you ca..” Jonathan didn’t get to finish his sentence before Achilles’ wrecked nose touched the event horizon and his destroyer was pulled into the wormhole. Along with the normal queasy feeling in his stomach Jonathan had experienced when he had traversed the wormhole on his way to Bastion, a weird high-pitched screeching sound assaulted Jonathan’s ears. He could guess what it was. The gravitational forces were ripping Achilles further apart. As Achilles passed through the event horizon on the Gift end, the screeching took on a more familiar sound. Achilles was screaming in distress as what was left of her superstructure was being twisted apart.

Jonathan knew he had little time. “Cortez, transmit our transponder identification if it is still working,” he ordered. “Then get me a COM channel to Commodore Yen. Everyone else is to get out of here. Send the order to abandon ship. Use the escape pods!”

At once, Achilles’ bridge officers jumped to their feet. They could feel Achilles breaking apart; they didn’t need any more encouragement. Helping each other, they rushed out of the bridge. Only Lydia and Cortez stayed. “Get out of here,” Jonathan shouted at his Second Lieutenant.

Lydia shook her head. “Not until we get a hold of Yen.” Turning from Jonathan, her fingers began to run over her console.

“I have our back-up transponder working,” Cortez said. “The forts shouldn’t blast us at least.”

“And I have a direct channel to Yen open,” Lydia said seconds later as she swung back around to Jonathan.

Miraculously, the holo display on Jonathan’s command chair was still in working order and sprung into life. “Commodore, I am Captain Somerville. Heir to the Empire,” Jonathan said, nearly fumbling over his words he spoke so fast. “We have just been in an engagement with an enemy ship on the other side of the wormhole. They have technology that can close it. You must send your fleet through now, this very second. They could close it again at any moment. There are only two enemy ships. Send whatever ships you have nearest through at once. Don’t wait to form up. Just send them through.”

“But Captain, I have strict orders,” Yen replied cautiously.

Jonathan’s anger boiled up. “I’ve just gutted my ship and lost who knows how many of my crew to get through to you to give you this message. I’m ordering you as Emperor Somerville’s heir, send your fleet through at once. I will take full responsibility.”

“Yes, Captain, I will do as you say,” Yen replied, though his voice was still full of reluctance.

Jonathan didn’t care. “I need to get off Achilles now, Commodore. Your ships better be traversing the wormhole even as we speak or there will be hell to pay.”

Anger appeared on Yen’s face. “I have already given the order. Do not push it, Captain. Get off your ship, my officers fear it is going to blow up or break apart at any moment.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jonathan said a little more sheepishly as he realized he had just shouted at a senior officer. Before he could apologize, the COM channel ended. Immediately, he felt strong arms pulling him out of his command chair. Looking up, he expected Lydia or Cortez to have grabbed him, but it was Lieutenant Samuels.

“Come on, Captain, it’s time to get you out of here. I have an escape pod waiting for us,” she said as she manhandled Jonathan out of the bridge, being careful to avoid his injured shoulder. Jonathan just managed to twist his body enough to see that Lydia and Cortez were following right behind him. Then, he allowed himself to be led to the escape pod.

Within thirty seconds, they were all squished into it, belting themselves in. “Ready?” Becca asked. When everyone nodded, she pulled the lever, shotting the escape pod away from Achilles. Jonathan strained to look out the viewing port at his command. His heart broke at the sight that greeted him. Achilles’ nose was all but gone. At least four thick gashes criss-crossed along her starboard side where her armor and hull had been peeled back by lasers. Several holes also pockmarked her hull, and one was so big Jonathan could see space out the other side. Achilles’ smooth lines were also distorted from a bend in her superstructure. He knew in an instant she was a wreck. There would be no fixing her. It was even debatable if there would be enough functioning systems left to salvage, assuming she didn’t just break apart there and then. And then there was the butcher’s bill. Looking at his command, it was hard to believe anyone had escaped. He doubted more than half of his people were left alive.

Despite his heartache, Jonathan reached out and took the controls of the escape pod. Gently, he rotated the pod away from Achilles and towards the wormhole. He was just in time to see two destroyers touch the event horizon and disappear.  Right behind them, a light cruiser and then a heavy cruiser were maneuvering to follow. Jonathan fell back into his jump seat at the sight. They had done it. They had reopened the wormhole. His whole body slumped as the tension drained from his muscles. His pain at Achilles’ loss wouldn’t let him smile, but as he shared glances with Lydia, Cortez, and Becca, they all saw the satisfaction he felt. They had done their duty.

Chapter 22

Prior to the war with the Eaglaton Protectorate, Humanity had thought the Karacknids their biggest threat. Little did they know that neither would prove to be the deadliest proposition the Imperial Fleet would face.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Sundance

Every inch of Captain Maguire’s body was on edge as his destroyer passed through the Bastion wormhole. As soon as Sundance’s sensors started feeding data to the bridge’s holo displays, he locked his eyes onto it.

“Contact bearing seven one nine point three,” Sundance’s tactical officer called out. “Distance one hundred and forty thousand kilometers.”

“Target her with every energy weapon we have. Fire at once!” Maguire ordered. “Launch a salvo of missiles as soon as you have a lock.” He followed up as his eyes widened at the size of the alien ship. It out massed Sundance by at least a factor of six. Suddenly, she understood the massive amount of damage suffered by the crippled Imperial destroyer Sundance had passed as she had entered the wormhole made sense.

“Firing!” The tactical officer called out just three seconds later.

On the holo display, the ship burst into flames as laser beams and then plasma bolts and mass driver rounds struck her. Amazingly, she endured the destruction and kept going. Then the holo display showed energy spikes from the alien ship. Immediately, Sundance was rocked by several hits.

“Shields are down,” someone shouted.

“Those were directed energy streams,” Sundance’s sensor officer called out.

“We have damage reports coming in from decks four, seven and nine,” another Lieutenant reported.

“Increase evasive maneuvers,” Maguire ordered. “Prepare to fire our energy weapons again.”

“They’re engaging our missiles,” Sundance’s tactical officer reported.

The range was so close that Maguire’s mark VIII warheads could have detonated and released their laser beams at the alien ship almost as soon as they had left their tubes. The alien ship barely had time to shoot down two of the missiles before the rest unleashed their destructive power. Seven missiles fired a total of twenty-one beams. To Maguire’s eye, it looked like more than half of them struck home. In a blinding flash, the alien ship disappeared. Take that, Maguire thought towards whoever had destroyed one of Sundance’s sister ships.

Alarms suddenly went off, warning of incoming missiles. Maguire’s eyes snapped to another alien ship. This one was smaller and further away, but it was charging right towards his ship. And it had already fired twelve missiles. “What is the status of our defenses?” Maguire demanded.

“We’ve maybe lost fifteen percent of our point defenses,” Sundance’s tactical officer replied. Maguire swallowed hard. It wasn’t hard to envisage Sundance being turned into a crippled hulk like the destroyer his crew had all seen before traversing the wormhole. Yet, the missiles weren’t that close. And we have reinforcements on the way, Maguire reminded himself.

As if he had summoned them, more alarms went off. On the holo display, a light cruiser and then a medium cruiser appeared within seconds of each other. As soon as they got their bearings, they closed with Sundance to envelop her in their point defensive fire. Then they shot out forty-eight missiles towards the enemy ship. Just before it was destroyed, Maguire couldn’t help but feel a flicker of sympathy for the alien ship. It stood no chance.

“Captain Hicks of Black Beauty is hailing us, Captain,” Sundance’s COM officer reported. “She wants to know if we can pass back through the wormhole?”

Maguire glanced at his First Lieutenant. She nodded to say none of the damage his destroyer had suffered would prevent them from traversing the wormhole. “Inform Hicks we can return and report the enemy destroyed,” he said. “Navigation, take us back to the wormhole. Be careful, more ships will be coming through, though.”

*

IS Malevolence

As a shuttle attached a grapple to their escape pod and guided them into one of Malevolence’s hanger bays, Jonathan went through a rollercoaster of emotions. Having accepted he would die trying to stop Gifosous, the sight of Yen’s flagship and the safety it represented made him feel almost giddy. Yet, at the same time, he was assaulted by survivor’s guilt. He didn’t know the numbers yet, but he knew casualties among his crew would be very high. He was also thrilled that they had managed to reach Gifosous’ ship and drive it away from the wormhole opening it. Yet, he didn’t know how long it would remain open for, nor if the Imperial ships that had gone through made it to the other side.

With his emotions running high, as soon as he felt the escape pod touch Malevolence’s deck, he undid his harness and jumped to his feet. Before Becca could stop him, he opened the hatch and jumped out. Quickly glancing around, he rushed to the nearest officer. The Lieutenant was also making his way towards Jonathan. “Can you tell me, where are the rest of my crew?” Jonathan asked quickly. “And what is happening with the wormhole?”

The Lieutenant stopped and took half a step back. She raised both her hands. “I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t have all that information. I think Achilles’ escape pods are still being collected. Though rescue teams have landed on the wreck to search for other survivors.”

Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists at Achilles being called a wreck. “She is an Imperial warship,” he insisted. Then he realized what the Lieutenant had said. “Did some of the crew not get to the escape pods?”

The Lieutenant shook her head. “I’m not sure, Captain, but your ship is badly damaged, very badly damaged. I think the rescue teams are making sure there aren’t crew members trapped.”

Of course, Jonathan thought to himself, his anger turning inward. And there will be remains that can’t be recovered to send home for burial, he realized. “I want to help with the rescue operations. My Lieutenants and I know Achilles best. We can take a shuttle back there now.”

“It’s not safe yet, Captain, the priority of the first rescue teams is to secure Achilles’ reactors and make sure she is structurally safe enough to search. That may take an hour or more. Commodore Yen sent me to assure you that every effort is being made to look after your people. He has requested you join him in his office.”

Jonathan wanted to refuse. He knew he needed to debrief Yen, but his people took priority. Yet, a request for a meeting from a senior officer wasn’t really a request. Half turning, he gestured to Cortez and Lydia. “I will come, but my Lieutenants need to join the rescue operations. Can you take them to wherever they are being coordinated?”

“Of course,” the Lieutenant said as she waved over one of Maleficent’s crew. “Ensign Waters will show you to the auxiliary CnC,” she said to Cortez.

“Thank you,” Cortez said. “Don’t worry,” she added for Jonathan’s benefit. “We will make sure all of our people are safe, Captain. You speak with Yen, and then you can join us.”

Jonathan didn’t like it, but he nodded to Cortez anyway. “Okay, Lieutenant, lead on.” His mind still awhirl, Jonathan barely noticed passing through Maleficent’s corridors and decks. It was only when he found himself standing outside the hatch to Yen’s office that he realized his uniform was disheveled and smelled of smoke. Then he remembered his last encounter with Yen. He had shouted at the Commodore and even threatened him! Suddenly, Jonathan felt butterflies assault his stomach. Quickly, he put a suitably contrite expression on his face when the Lieutenant tapped the office’s access panel.

“Captain Somerville,” Yen said neutrally as he stood from his desk and held out a hand. “I’m glad to see you made it in one piece. Given the visuals I saw of Achilles, I’m astounded anyone made it out alive. You have my condolences for your lost crew.”

“Thank you, Commodore,” Jonathan said as he shook Yen’s hand firmly. “It was a close-run thing. We didn’t think we were going to make it.”

“No, indeed not,” Yen agreed. “I’ve briefly reviewed the mission logs you sent across. It was quite the battle. And your ship was already damaged from engaging the first Eaglaton cruiser. I’d say you handled yourself quite well, given the circumstances, though there is the matter of your behavior after coming through the wormhole.”

Jonathan looked down at his feet. “Yes, Commodore, I unreservedly apologize. I know I had no right to use my parents to pull rank on you, nor to take the tone that I did. I’m willing to face whatever disciplinary action you think necessary.”

Yen laughed. “My, my, a contrite Prince, I wasn’t expecting that. But maybe, I should have. It seems you are a chip off the old block. You have your father’s combat skills, and maybe his humility as well.” Yen slapped his desk. “No matter, Captain, given the circumstances, I’ve chosen to forget about your outburst. Getting my fleet through the wormhole was of uttermost importance. You certainly managed to impress that upon me, even if you didn’t choose the wisest approach.”

“Thank you, Commodore, that is most gracious of you,” Jonathan said as he raised his eyes again. “Though I think your comparison with my father goes too far.”

“That may be, but I’ll let him be the judge of that?” Yen said with a smile.

Jonathan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Sundance has already returned through the wormhole,” Yen explained. “She engaged and destroyed the Eaglaton ship that was keeping the wormhole closed, but she took some damage. I’m sending her back to Earth for repairs. You and your senior Lieutenants are going with her. You can bring your report back to the Admiralty and your father in person.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of returning to Earth. He did want to impress upon his father the seriousness of what he had discovered. Yet, he was far more relieved to hear about the wormhole being secured. “What about the other Eaglaton light cruiser?” he asked.

“My other ships took it out as well,” Yen answered.

Jonathan nodded. “So the Protectorate fleet won’t know the wormhole is open, at least, not until they send reinforcements to support Gifosous. Are you taking your entire fleet through?”

“As soon as I’m done with you and your crew, that’s the plan,” Yen said. “If the Protectorate are planning even half of what you expect, then we cannot lose the wormhole. It was closed for just three days, and we already have a backlog of shipping waiting to transit. I also expect orders to arrive from Rear Admiral Salamanca within the week to confirm my decision. But given the circumstances, I think your father and the Admiralty will understand me leaving my post.”

“I will make sure he does,” Jonathan promised. “And like I said, if they are unhappy, you can lay all the blame at my feet.”

Yen shook his head. “That’s not how it works, Captain. The buck stops with me. This is my decision.” Jonathan nodded, even though he was a Prince of the Empire, Yen was the one who would be held accountable, by the Admiralty and by his father. “Tell me,” Yen continued. “Do you know anything more about how this Eaglaton ship managed to close the wormhole? I’ve had my scientists scratching their heads for the last three days trying to figure out what happened. We sent some probes through, but I now presume they were destroyed. We’re putting together a team to examine the wreckage of the Eaglaton ship, but anything else you know would be very useful.”

Jonathan thought for several moments. “Lieutenant Munroe is the one you should speak to. Maybe you should assign him to this investigation team. As he explained it, the Eaglaton ship was able to produce gravimetric anti-eddies that effectively knocked out the eddies around the wormhole’s event horizon. That’s as far as my understanding of advanced gravity theory goes.”

Yen’s face darkened. “I haven’t had the time to check on all the casualty lists from your ship, but I did look through the senior Lieutenants. I’m afraid Munroe didn’t make it.”

Jonathan’s face fell. He took a half step back in shock. The last time he had seen Munroe, he had been sitting at his command chair. He hadn’t seen him get injured never mind killed. “My other officers? Lieutenant Rutherford was knocked unconscious.”

Yen slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it either.” Jonathan ground his teeth together. He had ordered Rutherford taken out of the bridge to be looked after. His decision had probably killed the Lieutenant. He looked away from Yen, afraid of what else he was about to learn. “Most of your other officers had reported some minor injuries, but I’m pleased to say the rest are accounted for. Speaking of injuries, however, your left arm does not look to be in too good a shape.”

“I’m fine,” Jonathan said, his mind focused on his officers. “I have special forces marine-grade implants. They are keeping the pain in check and boosting my healing.”

“But all the same, I want you to get it looked at by Maleficent’s doctor once you are finished here. He will need to okay you for the journey to Earth.”

Jonathan shook his head, though he knew shouldn’t disobey an order, not after his earlier behavior. “I need to make sure all my people are safe first. Then I will let your doctor see me.”

Yen smiled. “I thought you might say that.” Reaching forward, he tapped a button on his desk and the hatch into his office swished open. Jonathan half turned and was surprised to find Cortez and Lydia both there. “I thought I might let you borrow my office to coordinate the rescue efforts of your people. Most of the escape pods have been collected by now and rescue teams are working on Achilles. But your people will still need to be cared for and transported over to Maleficent. I thought you and your Lieutenants would like to take charge of the operation.”

“Yes, we certainly would, Commodore. Thank you,” Jonathan said as his respect for Yen started to grow.

“Very good, then I’ll let you get to work here helping your people, unless there is anything else?”

Jonathan screwed his face up for a moment as he thought. “Admiral Becket, her fleet is still based out of New Delhi I imagine. She commands the largest Imperial force that will be able to come to Bastion’s aid if it is attacked. A message with everything we have found should be sent to her. She may want to act quicker than it will take my report to reach Earth and then orders sent to her.”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Yen said as he moved from behind his desk. He gently squeezed Jonathan’s right shoulder as he passed. “We know what we are doing. A frigate has already been dispatched to New Delhi. You focus on seeing to your people, and then getting a doctor to look at you. We will have a full debrief after that, and then I’ll be sending you on to Earth.

“Yes, Commodore, of course.” Jonathan turned as Yen passed him. “And thank you,” he added. “For taking care of my people and your compassion.”

Yen gave Jonathan a quick smile. “I have not lost a ship myself, but I can imagine. See to your people and mourn those you have lost, but do not let guilt bear you down. You all accomplished a vital task today. Those who have perished made their lives count.”

Jonathan nodded. He was too concerned about finding out about his crew to be filled with guilt, but he suspected it would come as soon as he was alone. “I will make sure my people know that, and that the families of those we lost do so as well.”

Yen nodded. “Then we will speak more later, Captain.” As Yen passed through the hatch, Cortez and Lydia stepped aside to let him past. Jonathan quickly waved them in when Yen was gone. They had work to do.

*

IS Sundance

Six hours later, Jonathan found himself alone. Maguire had invited Jonathan to join him on the bridge. Yet, Jonathan had refused. Sundance was an exact replica of Achilles. There was hardly anywhere on the ship he couldn’t go that didn’t flood his mind with memories, memories that were now all tainted with loss. The observation blister he was in was one of those rare exceptions. As far as he knew, he had never entered any of Achilles’. With the bridge’s holo display, he hadn’t needed to. Now, however, he stared out of the observation panel as Sundance pulled away from the twenty large Gift forts. Amidst them, he was able to watch as Maleficent formed up with the rest of Commodore Yen’s fleet and headed through the Bastion wormhole.

Watching them disappear filled Jonathan with mixed feelings. Their transit secured the far side of the wormhole. And yet, he still felt uneasy. He was certain the Protectorate didn’t intend to just send Gifosous and his two light cruisers to secure the wormhole. Its strategic value was far too high. That meant more Protectorate ships were likely on their way, and that Yen’s fleet was in danger. The sooner we get to Earth and get reinforcements here, the better, he thought. Though with the threat from the Karacknids, the Flex-aor, and the mysterious Racumin who had been transporting weapons for the Karacknids, Jonathan had no idea where his father was going to find the ships. Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem he needed to worry too much about.

When the last of Yen’s ships disappeared, Jonathan’s mind turned to Earth. He wasn’t looking forward to the journey home. Though it was only a short nine-day trip, he would have little to distract him from going over the battle again and again, and remembering the faces of all the crew he had lost. Thankfully, Yen had sent Cortez, Lydia, and the rest of his surviving bridge officers with him on Sundance. Already, Lydia had made it clear she intended to distract him as much as possible. Jonathan had been surprised to find Lieutenant Samuels also on-board Sundance. He didn’t know how she had pulled it off, but it seemed he was stuck with the special forces marine.

The swishing sound of the hatch into the observation blister opening made Jonathan half turn. He shook his head when he saw Becca step through. He knew she couldn’t read his mind. And yet, she had just appeared as if summoned anyway. Giving him a nod, she moved to the other side of the blister. Jonathan was thankful when she didn’t say anything. He wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. Yet, her presence was comforting, nonetheless.

Chapter 23

Whilst the morals and traditions of the Empire must influence every decision a naval commander makes, at times, real politic must sway the day.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Hercules, 1st October 2509 AD, (one week earlier).

“Jump us in,” Salamanca ordered as soon as his scouts returned to report the system was just as Captain Somerville had last seen it. In response to his command, Hercules and the five hundred ships in Salamanca’s fleet jumped into the Dudllias system. “Take us towards their homeworld. Fifty percent maximum thrust.” Salamanca knew the Dudl’lon fleet had got a close up look at an Imperial warship’s capabilities, an entire fleet would no doubt cause them some concern. Coming in slow would hopefully allay some of their fears, though as Salamanca intended, not all.

“They have spotted us,” Lieutenant Richards reported. “Dudl’lon warfleet breaking orbit.”

“Should we send a message?” Hercules’ Captain asked.

Salamanca shook his head. “No. I want this King Krilim to be on edge. We shall keep him in the dark for now.”

For an hour, Hercules led Salamanca’s force deeper into the Dudl’lons’ system. Only when the alien fleet approached missile range did Salamanca order his ships to stop relative to Dudllias. When the rest of the fleet began to decelerate, Hercules continued on, on her own. Salamanca knew it was a risk, but a calculated one. The simulations his officers had run suggested Hercules had a very good chance of engaging and beating the entire Dudl’lon fleet by herself. Salamanca was betting on his bravado convincing the Dudl’lons that the chance was one hundred percent.

“We’re being hailed,” Salamanca’s COM officer announced.

“Let’s speak with them,” Salamanca said. Moments later, the holo display changed to show the bridge of a Dudl’lon warship.

“Human commander, I am Admiral Lamuel commander of the Dudl’lon Defense Fleet. I presume you are one of Captain Somerville’s senior commanders? You have brought a very powerful force into our system. What are your intentions?”

Even though he knew almost nothing about the Dudl’lon people, Salamanca could tell the alien was nervous, for the fish-like creature’s tail and fins were twitching. That was how he wanted it. “Admiral Lamuel, it is a pleasure to meet a fellow senior officer,” Salamanca said in a cordial tone. “I am Rear Admiral Salamanca of the Imperial Fleet. I have come here with my ships in response to some very concerning news Captain Somerville communicated to me in relation to the Zardxians. I have urgent news I need to share with King Krilim. I intend to take my flagship into orbit of your homeworld to do so. Your fleet may escort me in if you wish.”

“If I wish?” Lamuel asked, his tone darkening. “And if we do not give your permission?”

“The information I have is vital to the future of our two species. I intend to bring my ship into orbit to speak to your King. My warfleet will remain behind as a sign of my good intentions. However, if you think you can stop my flagship, then you are more than welcome to try. The news I bring is more important than your fleet. If it comes to it, your ships are dispensable.”

Lamuel’s long face twisted up. His tail swished back and forth, moving him in and out of the image as he floated above his command console. Salamanca didn’t enjoy insulting the Admiral, but time was short. He could not waste any time going through the long diplomatic process that would likely ensue if he played things the Dudl’lons’ way. Plus, his plan rested on the Dudl’lons being intimidated by Hercules and his fleet. “What is your response?” Salamanca pressed when Lamuel didn’t reply right away. “My ship is not slowing, but you are free to escort us in. Unless you wish to start a shooting war?”

Lamuel took a few more moments to reply; clearly, he was waiting for directions from Dudllias. When he did, he didn’t sound happy. “Very well, Rear Admiral, you will have it your way for now. We will escort you in. But, we will remain between your ship and our homeworld at all times.”

“That is fine by me, Admiral,” Salamanca replied, then reached forward and ended the COM channel. He had nothing more to say until he was speaking with Krilim. “Take us as close as you can to their fleet,” he ordered Hercules’ navigation officer. Let them see just how big she is.” Measured by the tonnes Hercules displaced, Salamanca figured she was about two-thirds the size of the entire Dudl’lon navy. Lamuel’s flagship was no larger than an Imperial medium cruiser. On her own, Hercules out massed the Dudl’lon ship by a factor of sixteen.

As his ship closed with the Dudl’lon fleet, Salamanca studied them closely. He had already analyzed the data Somerville had sent of the battle between the Bar’samin and Dudl’lon fleet. He felt he had a good idea of the Dudl’lon warships’ capabilities, but there was always something more to learn. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way the Dudl’lon ships maneuvered around one another. Somerville had made a note in his report that the imperial Navy should experiment with something similar to see if it was effective. Seeing it in person, he tended to agree. He also got a better sense of how beautiful the Dudl’lon warships were. Salamanca had always thought Imperial warships had a rugged beauty that put them a step above the more delicate looking designs of the Varanni and Crians. Yet, he had to admit the Dudl’lons’ long sleek warships had the Imperial Navy beat in the looks department. When he didn’t see anything else to concern him, Salamanca turned his mind to Krilim. Mentally going over his goals from the discussion, he made sure he was ready.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Hercules came into two-way communication range, Salamanca’s COM officer reported Krilim was hailing them. “Let’s speak to him,” Salamanca responded.

“Admiral Salamanca, it seems you have forced your way into my system. Captain Somerville did something of the same. Your species doesn’t seem to make the best first impression.”

“I wish I could apologize for that, your Highness, but the urgency of the situation has left me no choice. I come to you now in response to what Captain Somerville discovered when he explored the coordinates you gave him for the Zardxians. No such species inhabit that system, but he did discover three other species that purported to be a part of something called the Eaglaton Protectorate. They were amassing a fleet of over a thousand ships, and it appears their intentions towards my Empire and our allies are not good. Both my species and yours are in danger.”

Krilim took several moments to reply. “That is concerning, Admiral. If true, I understand your lack of manners. Yet, I am presented with the same dilemma your Captain Somerville laid before me. I still have no way to corroborate your claims.”

“I’m sending you all the data Somerville collected in the Farvul’vian system, along with recordings of his interactions with the aliens there. Assess them and judge for yourself. But I must warn you, I have not come here to play diplomatic games. My fleet is here for a reason. I cannot allow the gas mining and storage facilities you have built to fall into the Protectorate’s hands. Both your and the Bar’samin’s system will provide the Protectorate the perfect forward bases from which to invade our space. I believe they have tricked you into building what you have so that they can take it from you and use it against us. I have brought with me valuable minerals, important technologies, and other riches that I will offer to you in exchange for the destruction of your facilities. However, if you do not agree, I will destroy what I must to protect my Empire.”

“You threaten me with war? You would conquer my system?” Krilim said, his voice rising in pitch. “Are you not just confirming everything the Zardxians said about you?”

“I have not come here to debate the lies you have been told,” Salamanca said firmly. “But I promise you this, I, nor my fleet, have any interest in conquering your system. If you will not agree to the generous trade I have come to offer, we will destroy your gas mining facilities and leave. And in doing so, I am confident I will be doing your species a service. At the moment, your gas mining facilities make your system strategically vital, both to the Protectorate and to me. I have come to destroy them and leave. Yet, when the Protectorate comes, they will take over your entire system, but you can avoid both scenarios. If you destroy them now, yourself, then neither I nor the Protectorate will have any interest in your system. You can return to your own ways. Then, in time, you may discern which side, if any, you wish to enter into a relationship with.”

Krilim swished his tail vigorously. “Captain Somerville appeared willing to go to great lengths to prove to me that his species was honorable and trustworthy. You have shattered that impression in mere seconds, Admiral. Why should I trust a word you say?”

“I do not enjoy the fact that I am here giving you this ultimatum,” Salamanca said, softening his tone. “But equally, I will not apologize. My duty is to my Empire, and I am offering you fair terms. The value of the minerals and technologies I have with me is multiple times that of your gas mining facilities. You do not need to trust me, your Highness, you only need to accept a trade deal that will be both immediately beneficial to your people, bringing wealth to them, and in the long term, will keep your system from becoming a battleground in a much larger war.”

“And what is to stop my fleet from simply blowing your flagship to pieces and driving your fleet away?” Krilim asked as his voice lowered, taking on a more dangerous tone.

Salamanca smiled. “Nothing can stop you from trying to destroy my flagship, though I assure you, it would be a more difficult task than you imagine. But even if you succeed, my death is meaningless. Killing me will not change the strategic situation. Your gas mining facilities threaten my Empire, the Imperial Navy will negate that threat with or without me. Now… I suggest we end our discussion here until you and your advisors have had a chance to review the documents I have sent to you. You have heard my terms, there is no need for us to argue with one another. Review the materials, and make your choice. I will give you two hours. After that, I must act, for once we are finished here, my fleet will be heading to Ulan’nagn to offer the Bar’samin the same choice.”

At the mention of their hated enemies, Krilim’s flippers wiggled. Salamanca had to hide a smile. His words had hit the spot. For if the Bar’samin accepted his offer while Krilim refused and ended up in a fight, his fleet would be destroyed, and his world left at the mercy of the Bar’samin. Salamanca enjoyed holding the threat of the Bar’samin over Krilim even less than he did threatening to use his own ships to destroy the gas mining facilities, but he knew it would be effective. In truth, Krilim had no choice, unless he wanted to see his species conquered by either the Protectorate or the Bar’samin, he had to accept Salamanca’s offer. He just needs time to see it, Salamanca thought to himself. Deciding to let Krilim stew over his final threat, Salamanca ended the COM channel before Krilim could respond.

Around him, Salamanca could feel most of his staff officers avoiding eye contact. No doubt, they all thought his tone too harsh. Certainly, he was sure no one from the Imperial Diplomatic Corps would approve of what had just happened. Yet, they weren’t here. And it is a naval officer’s duty to do what must be done, Salamanca thought as he settled into his command chair and prepared to wait out the two hours he had given Krilim.

When Hercules was hailed from the planet just an hour later, Salamanca shared a knowing look with Smirnov, Hercules’ Captain. There was only one reason Krilim would call back so soon. “Admiral,” the Dudl’lon King said when he appeared on the holo display. “We have reviewed the files you sent us. If what Captain Somerville reports he had experienced at Farvul’vian is true, it is very troubling. I now understand your concern for your own Empire, even if I do not like how it has made you treat me and my people.”

“Then you will accept our trade offer?” Salamanca asked.

“Not willingly…” Krilim said slowly. “But yes, we will allow you to destroy our facilities rather than risk an open war between our two species, though my people and I will not quickly forget how we were treated. There is one further stipulation we require, however. You must give us your word, in writing, that your fleet or your allies will not use our system in whatever becomes of your war with the Protectorate. Unless I give you permission otherwise, none of your military or civilian ships will visit this system again.”

“That is acceptable, your Highness,” Salamanca replied. “Once your gas mining facilities have been destroyed, your system will hold no strategic value to the Imperial Fleet. Though if you ever do wish to open diplomatic relations, or even need our aid militarily, you only need ask. Now, if you don’t mind, I will begin preparing the minerals and other commodities we have brought for you. They are contained in several freighters that will have to leave my fleet and join Hercules in orbit. You may evacuate your gas mining facilities. When you have done so, let us know and I will send teams over to set the explosive charges. As you are aware, I am keen to keep moving. The Bar’samin’s facilities must also be neutralized.”

“We will begin evacuating people immediately,” Krilim said. “I am just as eager for your fleet to leave as you are. I hope we never meet again, Admiral.”

“And I hope we do not need to,” Salamanca replied. The COM channel ended before he could bow to Krilim. Instead, he turned to his Chief of Staff. “Let’s get to it. Send word for our freighters to approach and prep our demolition teams. As soon as we’re done, we will set course for Ulan’nagn.”

“Yes, Sir,” Bianco replied before turning to give out orders to the rest of her team.

“I think that is one diplomatic exchange that is going to go down in Imperial history,” Smirnov said as he swiveled in his command chair to face Salamanca. “If this was a different age, I think it would be called gunboat diplomacy.”

“It worked,” Salamanca said as the first shuttles took off from the Dudl’lon mining facilities. “That is all that matters right now. But, I fear in comparison to what we will face at Ulan’nagn, I believe today’s negotiation will be seen as a picnic among friends.”

“Indeed,” Smirnov replied in a tone that suggested his confidence things would go anywhere near as smoothly at Ulan’nagn was just as low as Salamanca’s. Both times Somerville’s Achilles had encountered Bar’samin warships, they had fired on her. Something told Salamanca things were going to be even more difficult when the Bar’samin saw they were facing an enemy fleet.

*

Hercules, 11th October 2509 AD, (ten days later).

“Nighthawk reports the system is safe to enter,” Bianco informed Salamanca, moments after the frigate jumped through shift space to the fleet’s location.

“Then we proceed,” Salamanca responded.

A short micro jump later, Hercules and the rest of Salamanca’s fleet entered the Bar’samin home system. “Take us in fifty percent acceleration, then open a COM channel,” Salamanca requested. When his COM officer nodded, Salamanca cleared his throat. “Bar’samin Representatives, I am Rear Admiral Salamanca of the Imperial Navy. I know it does not look like it, but I do not come here intending you harm. You have been lied to. The Zardxians have tricked you. We are not your enemies, they are. That is why they convinced you and the Dudl’lons to build the large gas mining facilities you both have. They intend to take them from you and use your system as a base from which to invade my Empire. I have just come from Dudllias where King Krilim agreed to destroy his mining facilities in exchange for rare minerals and advanced technologies.

“I have come here to offer you the same deal. I’m transmitting a file to you now, outlining everything we are offering. In exchange, all we ask is that you destroy your facilities so that the Zardxians cannot use them. By doing this, you will also be removing any reason for them to invade and take over your system. I must warn you, however, if you do not take this deal, I will destroy the facilities. I do not wish to threaten you, but this is the reality of the strategic situation. I cannot allow your system to be used as a base from which to invade my species’ worlds.”

With a gesture, Salamanca signaled to stop recording the COM message. “Send the file with our offer and the recordings of what Somerville found at Farvul’vian, and of the Dudl’lons facilities being destroyed,” Salamanca requested.

“Files sent, Admiral,” the COMs officer reported moments later.

“Let’s run the fleet through some defensive drills,” Salamanca requested. He had no desire to fight the Bar’samin. In fact, If they tried to attack him, he intended to just defend himself unless they tried to close to energy weapon range. Having them outnumbered ten to one, he had no fear their missiles could penetrate his fleet’s defensive fire.

“Warships are breaking orbit from Ulan’nagn,” a sensor officer reported as her console beeped. “Sixty-three of them.” Salamanca nodded. Then the officer’s console beeped again. “More contacts,” she said, her voice rising. “From the far side of the system! Over two hundred and the number is rising.”

Salamanca stared at the holo display as the number quickly rose to over two thousand. Given the shift passage they were arriving from, he had no doubt who they were. “Admiral Lvant’s Protectorate fleet,” he said. “We are too late.”

“What are your orders?” Bianco asked.

Perhaps I spoke too soon, Salamanca thought as he surveyed the tactical situation. His ships weren’t closer to Ulan’nagn. Yet, the Protectorate fleet was moving slowly. They are wondering why we are here; he was sure. “Increase our speed,” he ordered. “Take us to Ulan’nagn at maximum acceleration.”

Whether Lvant realized what Salamanca was up to or not, he reacted quickly. Small flotillas of scout ships spread out in every direction from the main Protectorate fleet whilst the bulk of Lvant’s force increased its acceleration rate.

“We’re getting a COM message from a Protectorate ship. It is the same Admiral Lvant Captain Somerville spoke to,” a COM officer reported.

“Let’s hear it,” Salamanca replied.

“Bar’samin Representatives, I am Admiral Lvant of the Eaglaton Protectorate. Our friends the Zardxians made contact with you on behalf of our Protectorate. As we agreed, we would come to your aid in the event the Humans tried to conquer your system. It seems we have come just in time. Do not believe their lies about us. We have no desire to conquer your system, nor will we steal your He3. Assuming you want our aid, we will gladly buy from you whatever you are willing to sell to meet our needs. Have no fear of the Human fleet, we will ensure it can cause no harm to you.”

“That can’t be good,” Smirnov said. “Our appearance has played right into their hands.”

“Do you think they were waiting for us?” Bianco asked.

Salamanca shook his head. “I rather doubt it. There’s no way they could have known we were coming here. Their fleet had to have left Farvul’vian over two weeks ago. They have just gotten lucky.”

“So what do we do? Do you want to send another message to the Representatives?” Bianco followed up. 

Salamanca screwed up his face as he thought. “I doubt it would do us any good. They have the files we sent, that is the best evidence we have. But even if they believe us? If you were in their shoes, would you side with us? We’re outnumbered four to one. If Lvant wants the system, it is his.”

“They could destroy their gas mining facilities,” Smirnov suggested. “Maybe Lvant would turn back then.”

Salamanca brought a hand up to rub his chin. It was possible, but would the Bar’samin Representatives risk it? Lvant could attack their world to punish them. Or they may have no problem aiding Lvant to invade us, Salamanca thought. Given Somerville’s brief interaction with them, that was certainly possible.

Salamanca got his answer fifteen minutes later when a message came from Ulan’nagn. “Admiral Salamanca,” a Bar’samin who didn’t even bother to introduce himself said. “Your fleet is here without our invitation. Remove it from our system immediately, or we will take your actions as a declaration of war upon our species. Begone, or we will request Admiral Lvant engage and destroy you.”

“I guess we know where they stand,” Smirnov said. “What are you thinking, Admiral? If we just let them have those gas mining facilities, that fleet will be knocking on Bastion’s door in a month or less.”

“Launch all fighters,” Salamanca ordered. “We might not be able to get to the facilities before Lvant, but our fighters can. I want half our force prepared to take out the Bar’samin fleet if it tries to intervene. The rest are to destroy every gas mining station and orbital storage facility.”

“Understood, Admiral, and send the order for Wing Commander Mitsubishi to launch immediately,” Bianco said.

Ten minutes later, Mitsubishi had his one hundred and eighty fighters in space and accelerating towards Ulan’nagn. To everyone on Hercules’ bridge shock and dismay, Lvant responded to the new threat by launching five hundred fighters of his own. They quickly formed up together and began to accelerate along an intercept course. Though they didn’t quite have the same acceleration rate as Mitsubishi’s fighters did, they still appeared impressive.

“Recall our fighters,” Salamanca said as he let out a deep breath. “Recall our fighters and begin decelerating. Set course for the shift passage back to Bastian.”

“Admiral? Are you sure?” Bianco asked.

Salamanca nodded as he gestured towards Lvant’s fleet. “We are too late. We don’t know what capabilities those fighters have, and so we can’t risk a major engagement. Detach most of our fuel freighters and Commodore Thorpe’s squadron. He is to remain in the vicinity of the system and keep tabs on Lvant’s force. I want regular updates sent to Bastian. There’s nothing more we can do here now. We must return to Bastion and prepare our defenses. For unless I am mistaken, we will be seeing those two thousand warships on our doorstep in the very near future.” Those and more, Salamanca was sure. It was highly unlikely Lvant had brought his entire force to Ulan’nagn without first securing the system. And if his fleet is just the advanced force, how many ships do they have? Salamanca wondered as his ship turned away from Ulan’nagn and prepared to run home.

Chapter 24

Politics within the Empire have always been complex. With three legislative Houses, over five hundred worlds and nine separate species, there are many factions vying for the populace’s attention. Navigating them all alongside managing the many hundreds of neighboring alien civilizations is no small task for our Emperor and Empress.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Earth, 19th October 2509 AD, (eight days later).

Jonathan’s reception on his return to Earth was not what he expected. After Sundance transmitted her report to the Imperial Palace, the destroyer was ordered not to allow any other transmissions to leave the ship. Then, as soon as she slotted into orbit, a standard marine shuttle arrived to take Jonathan to the Palace. Instead of landing at the main landing pads, the shuttle landed at a back entrance. There was no welcoming party waiting for him either, only a single Palace aide stood watching the shuttle land.

“Welcome back home, Captain,” the aide said. “Your father and mother are waiting for you just inside.”

Jonathan glanced around, half expecting his brother or sister, or some of the Palace employees he had grown up with, to appear. Yet, it seemed the unknown aide was to be the only person to greet him publicly. “Then take me to them,” he said, as a few butterflies started to dance around his stomach. He knew losing Achilles was bad. It would be a permanent mark on his career. The loss of life was worse. At least to him, it was. He had thought of little else but the faces of his crew that were gone during the nine-day journey to Earth. But, if his parents did not want to officially welcome him back to Earth, nor even be seen publicly greeting him, then something had to be wrong. You did basically start a multi-system war, Jonathan thought to himself. And not just with one species. His butterflies intensified.

When he stepped into the Palace, he spotted both his parents standing in an alcove. His eyes went immediately to his father’s face. His mother could perfectly hide her feelings from whoever she wished. His father didn’t quite have the same skills. The beaming smile that greeted Jonathan silenced his butterflies. As he approached, both his parents stepped out from the alcove and pulled him into a hug. Since his teenage years, Jonathan had done everything he could to avoid such displays of affection. This time, he put up no resistance.

“It’s so good to have you home,” Christine said. She was squeezing him especially tight. “I’m so sorry about your ship and your crew. It must be just terrible for you.”

Gently, Jonathan squeezed himself back from her hug. As she looked up into his face, he saw her eyes were full of concern. “It has not been easy,” he replied, knowing lying to her about it would only worry her more. “I still go through their names and faces when I close my eyes. But we did what had to be done. We all knew we might not survive taking on Gifosous’ ships. I am proud of what we accomplished, what my people gave their lives for. I just wish…” Jonathan cut himself off before he said something that would alarm his parents.

“Survivor’s guilt,” James said as he reached a hand out and firmly gripped Jonathan’s shoulder. “Your sister has had to deal with it as well. It will pass in time, but you will never forget Achilles, nor your people. However, the sadness at their sacrifice will fade.”

“Just don’t go doing anything foolish in the meantime,” Christine said as she put an arm around her son. “We are very thankful you are alive and well. We are just sorry we couldn’t have more of a welcome home for you. We’ve had to keep things quiet. We don’t want news of the Protectorate getting to the general public until we’ve had time to think things through. A new enemy is going to cause more panic, there are people already very concerned about the Flex-aor.”

Jonathan had a number of questions. “So, you’re not ashamed of me. With being taken into the Palace this way, I thought…”

His father’s laugh cut him off. “No, no. Not at all,” James said as he held Jonathan’s eyes. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Your actions, your bravery, they are exactly what I expect from one of my best naval captains. You haven’t let us down in the slightest. We just want time to get a handle on things. Yes, there will have to be an official inquiry into Achilles’ loss.” James shared a look with Christine. “I’m sure some of our political enemies might try to use it against us, especially as this Protectorate seems intent on attacking us. The war doves will try and blame us for this new conflict, and they may try to get at us through you, but I have no doubts about its outcome. It will be Imperial Naval Admirals who will sit in judgment over your actions. They will recognize that what you did was necessary.”

Jonathan lowered his head. “I’m sorry I have caused you such trouble.”

Christine raised a hand and poked him in the chest with a finger. “Don’t even start. If we weren’t your parents, you would be welcomed home as a hero right now. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be us, to you and your crew. It’s not fair that your people have to stay cooped up on Sundance. But we need them to stay there for now. We’ll make it up to them, I promise.”

Jonathan nodded. He trusted his mother to keep her word. “What happened to Georgia, is she all right?” He asked as he remembered what his father had said.

Christine frowned as she looked at James. “Physically, she is fine, thank goodness. Ala’ron ambushed Emilie’s fleet. Most of the ships managed to escape, but the fighters had to clear them a path. Many were lost. Georgia lost half her squadron.” Jonathan winced. Christine nodded. “So, we don’t know just how she’s doing emotionally.”

“But she has her duty keeping her busy,” James reassured Jonathan. “Emilie and Becket managed to get revenge for the ambush. Over fifteen hundred Flex-aor ships have been destroyed in a battle not far from Vestar.”

Jonathan let out a long slow breath. “It seems a lot has been happening here, as well as at Bastion.”

“It sure has,” James said as he nodded. “And I fear we are a long way from the conclusion of all these events.”

“But right now, we have an Inner Council meeting to get to,” Christine prompted. “We can catch up more after. Come along, they will be waiting.”

“You want me to attend?” Jonathan asked as his eyebrows rose in surprise. He had never been allowed anywhere near the closely guarded meetings before.

Christine rolled her eyes. “Of course! You’re the only one with first-hand experience of these Protectorate species. Your report will be what we are basing our entire strategic response on. I imagine our advisors are going to have some questions for you!”

Jonathan’s butterflies returned. He had grown up meeting many high-ranking officers and politicians, but usually on an informal basis. Meeting the most powerful people in the Empire all at once, and being the center of their attention, was another thing entirely.

James laughed at the look on his son’s face. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite. Just speak of everything that has happened to you, and leave the rest to us. No one is expecting you to contribute more than you already have.” He slapped Jonathan on the shoulder and then used his hand to direct Jonathan towards the path they had to take.

As they walked, Christine took over the conversation. She filled Jonathan in on everyone who would be in attendance, and made sure Jonathan knew each of their backgrounds. When they got to the door that led into the large briefing room, Christine paused and reached a hand up to Jonathan’s cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Jonathan said as he gave her a smile. James winked at him, then gestured for Jonathan to go first.

As he stepped forward, the door immediately opened. Stepping in, Jonathan was greeted by silence. The sixteen other members of the Inner Council were all standing around in groups, clearly, they had been chatting to one another. Yet, they all watched him as he entered. Though he knew a number of them, their faces were all devoid of the friendly expressions they typically gave him. They are in work mode, Jonathan realized. This was no reunion of friends. They have the weight of the Empire on their shoulders. And it is on yours now.

For the first time in his life, Jonathan really started to feel the responsibility of being his father and mother’s heir. Even if he was just here to give advice, his words could have an impact on Imperial policy for years to come. Now he understood why his mother had updated him on the other council members. Glancing around the room, Jonathan tried to find a seat in a corner somewhere out of the way. Yet, the briefing room was dominated by one large oval table. There would be nowhere for him to keep a low profile.

“Let us take our seats and get to work,” Christine said formally. “There is much to discuss.” Christine moved over to her seat, but remained standing until everyone else had sat. “This Inner Council meeting is now in session,” she said, and then sat herself. “We will get several important matters out of the way before we come to our main topic of discussion. Admiral Alvarez, I believe you have an intelligence report to share with us?”

“Yes, Empress, I do,” Alveraz said as he stood and activated the large table’s holo display. Seven systems began to flash deep within the Karacknid Empire.

When Jonathan had first learned Varanni Alliance and Imperial stealth ships travelled so far into Karacknid territory, he had feared they would eventually be discovered and lead to a war. But, his father had assured him that they predominantly used hidden shift passages that only the Kalassai knew about, thanks to their dark matter sensor tech. Jonathan was sure that didn’t completely negate the risk, but it did give Imperial Intelligence a very detailed view of the Karacknid systems they could reach with their stealth ships.

“My analysts have put together their latest report on our scout intelligence,” Alveraz continued. “It appears Har’rang and Gat’ar are amassing fleets along their borders with Tanaka-lan’s territory. Over twelve thousand warships have been gathered in these systems, and there may be other bases we do not know about. We believe they may be preparing to launch a coordinated strike against Tanaka-lan. Our former adversary has won three significant battles against his two rivals over the last eighteen months. Thanks to the systems he has captured and the prestige he won, his power is growing faster than Har’rang’s and Gat’ar’s together.”

“If they act together, will they not lose face with their followers?” Commoner Havertz asked. “How can they claim to be the true Imperator while working with a false one?”

“We believe they will lose face,” Alveraz answered. “But defeating Tanaka-lan would gain them a great deal of followers. If they could kill him, it is very likely all his followers will flock to one or both of them. It has been fifteen years since a new contender announced himself. Losing face now to take out Tanaka-lan may be worth it in the long run.”

“So what do your analysts think this will mean for the civil war?” Senator Grimshaw asked. “If Tanaka-lan is taken out, Har’rang and Gat’ar could turn on each other and one could come out on top very quickly.”

“Or Tanaka-lan could beat both of them,” James pointed out. He was still convinced Tanaka-lan would be the eventual winner of the civil war. He had started out as one of the weakest contenders, and yet was now the most powerful one remaining. “He has won more than his fair share of battles, even when outnumbered.”

“That is certainly a possibility,” Alveraz agreed. “And in either case, we do believe this development may be the beginning of the final stages of the Karacknids’ civil war. We can hope that the three contenders expend most of their strength against one another, leaving the winner little with which to come after us. But, it does appear they are preparing to seek out a decisive battle.”

Jonathan looked around at the faces of the Inner Council members, Alvarez’s news was not good. Not at all. With the emergence of the Flex-aor threat, a great deal of the Imperial Navy’s strength was currently devoted to protecting the Empire’s southern borders. A Karacknid attack within the next six months to a year could prove devastating. Especially if the Protectorate drags us into another war in a different theatre. Yet, despite Jonathan’s concern at Alveraz’ news, none of the other council members looked worried. They are good at playing this game, Jonathan realized.

“Is there something we could do to try and prolong things?” Commoner Maddison asked. “Maybe we could warn Tanaka-lan so that he can better prepare.”

James smiled. “Something tells me he is already aware. Unless we want to intervene directly, I fear there is little we can do but wait and watch. But, it is critical that we have a good grasp of how their civil war is going, for everything else we do relates to our ability to face the Karacknids when they eventually turn their attention to us. Admiral Alveraz, make sure you pass on our appreciation to your Captains and their crews.”

“I will, Emperor,” Alveraz replied with a nod.

“Is there anything more to your report, Admiral?” Christine asked.

“Yes, there is one further worrying development,” Alveraz responded. “Several small Karacknid squadrons have been spotted scouting worlds in The Wilds. None anywhere near Allied borders, but along other sectors that they abandoned after Taranaki’s death. Mainly, they have been spotted surveying worlds that were formerly mining systems in their empire. We believe they are checking in on the native sentient species to determine if they have begun to develop their own industries.”

“You think they wish to invade and take control of the species’ industries?” Andrea asked.

Alveraz nodded to the head of the Imperial Fleet’s Logistics Division. “Since their civil war started, the Karacknids have been centralizing their industrial nodes. But, if they are thinking of conquering new systems outside their territory, they may be starting to reverse this policy.”

“What does this mean?” Maddison asked.

“It is another indicator that the civil war may be coming to a decisive head,” Andrea said. “Since our Emperor defeated Taranaki, and the Karacknid Empire collapsed in on itself, the Contenders lost the ability to control their spread-out slave labor economy. For the most part, they have had to rely far more heavily upon their own populace to run their economy. If this is changing, it means the Contenders are getting desperate. They are looking for low-hanging fruit that they can conquer quickly and then turn against each other.”

“Is Tanaka-lan also scouting systems near his space?” James asked.

Alveraz shook his head. “Not that we have detected.”

James nodded. “Which means he is not quite so desperate yet, or he has learnt the error of building an economy on forced labor. But either way, Andrea is right. This also suggests things are coming to a head.”

“Which means our strategic situation is becoming precarious, even without the dire news your son brings us,” Senator Nogamoro said. “With the Flex-aor threat, our fleets are already spread too thin. Does Imperial Intelligence have an estimate on how quickly the Karacknids could return to their war with us if one of the contenders does beat the other two in this coming offensive?”

“We have nothing concrete,” Alveraz replied. “At a minimum, it would take three months to move all their fleet elements to our border, but that doesn’t include all the support vessels and fuel supplies they would need. Many of their fleet bases on the front line haven’t been kept up to the same standards they once were. If they wanted to make the proper preparations for a long-term conflict, we reckon we would get up to a year’s warning.”

“But that doesn’t take into account the possibility the victor could try to strike us with as many ships as they could rush against us,” Christine advised.

“No,” Alveraz agreed. “If they wanted to try and strike straight at Varanni Prime or Earth, they could move ships and fuel tankers up and try and cut right through our defenses. With enough ships, they could at least make the effort.”

“That is worrying,” Senator Grimshaw commented. “Even if we got an early warning, a year is not a long time to bring the Empire back to a full war footing. Which perhaps brings us to the Flex-aor. Are there any updates from Admirals Becket or Alveraz?”

James nodded for his Chief of Staff to answer. Though Nicholls had taken up her role mainly to utilize her impressive political skills, over the last year, she had been forced to broaden her knowledge of the inner workings of the Imperial Fleet. “There is nothing of note to report after the Battle of Plankton. Admiral Alveraz has more than two hundred of her scout ships out looking for the rest of the Flex-aor fleet. Becket has her own advanced squadrons watching the approaches to our southern colonies. Yet, there hasn’t been sight nor sound of the Flex-aor. It is as if they have vanished.”

“They are licking their wounds,” Admiral Dunnings announced. “With the number of worker drones they took off their worlds, they should have enough to crew thirty or forty thousand warships. All they have to do is build them. They’ve tried twice to penetrate our defenses and failed. This Ala’ron doesn’t appear to be a fool. If she is smart, she will pull back until she has the strength to beat us, or at the very least, hurt us badly. I doubt we will see anything more of them until they think they can strike at one of our worlds again.”

“That is a worrying thought, but one I fear may very well be true,” James said. “Ala’ron is bent on our destruction. She has watched us conquer her systems and confine her daughters and their spawn to their own planets. Then, she waited more than twenty years to make her escape. I think she will have no problem waiting another twenty if that is what it takes for her to succeed. She may try another ambush like she did with Emilie’s fleet, but after the losses she has suffered, I can’t see her taking any more serious risks unless she is sure of victory.”

“So what does that mean?” Commoner Lafayette asked. “Do we need to keep the forces we have assigned to our southern borders there permanently?”

“That is not a question we need to make a decision on at the moment,” James answered slowly. “But it is one this council needs to consider carefully over the coming months. If there are no further developments regarding the Flex-aor in the next six months, permanent fortifications and fleet elements may need to be created to defend those sectors of our Empire. I had hoped Emilie would have been able to hunt down Ala’ron’s fleet, and perhaps she will yet. However, at the moment, that is looking less and less likely.”

“Permanent defenses and new fleets will require an increase in our military spending,” Maddison pointed out. “A significant increase.”

James nodded as he eyed Grimshaw and Lafayette. They were the leaders of the Empire Loyalists and Constitutionalists parties within the Empire’s three houses of government. After Cornelius Teal’s failed secession, their parties were enjoying more power and influence. Yet, James suspected most of their gains would evaporate if they tried to push to expand the military budget. In a large part, the burden the current budget placed on the Empire’s ordinary citizens was the cause of most of the dissent the secessionists had seized upon. “It may,” James said in response to Maddison, though he was still looking from Grimshaw to Layfette. “How do you think that will go down?”

“Not good,” Layfette said at once. “But better than it might have a year ago. Talk of secession and high taxes has largely receded over the last year. Most people are either scared of the Flex-aor, or frightened by how close the secessionists came to bringing their worlds into a shooting war with the rest of us. Though there has been some clamoring for secession on the rise again in some of the former Argentinian colonies. They are the furthest from the systems the Flex-aor are threatening.”

“It may also depend on just what news your son brings us,” Grimshaw said as he eyed Jonathan. “Given the tone of this meeting, I assume he has returned from Bastion with news that we are not going to enjoy?”

Jonathan took a deep breath as his father turned to him. “No, I’m afraid you are not,” James said. “Jonathan arrived in system less than three hours ago on board the destroyer Sundance. The rest of the survivors from his ship are still in orbit. The ship is currently on a communications blackout. My staff and our senior Admirals here are the only ones who have been able to look through his report. As soon as we did, we scheduled this meeting, for a critical decision must be made by us all. One that could have ramifications for years to come. Yet one I fear we have little choice in. However, before we come to it, I will let Jonathan tell you his story in full. You can read his report later, but I thought hearing it from the horse’s mouth first was important. Please, Jonathan, walk us through everything that happened to you and Achilles since you left Bastion.”

Jonathan took a deep breath as he nodded to his father. Given everything he had just heard, the news he had to share had turned his stomach into a knot. He expected it would have the same impact on the Inner Council members. Nevertheless, as he began to speak, he held nothing back as he sought to give as clear an account as he could of the new threat he had discovered.

Chapter 25

Whilst each of the three Imperial Houses have had to expand their seats to incorporate the new colonies and entire civilizations that have been incorporated in the Empire, the power structures have remained relatively unchanged. Several prominent parties in each of the three Houses, led by one or two powerful figures, dominate the will of each House.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Just getting his story out took Jonathan over an hour. Both the politicians and Admirals on the Inner Council stopped him numerous times to ask question after question. They extracted much knowledge he hadn’t even realized he had picked up, never mind included in his report. By the time he was finished, Jonathan realized why his mother and father had wanted him to attend the meeting in person. The Inner Council now had a far better idea of what the Empire was facing than reading his official mission report ever would impart. Even he had clarified his thinking on a number of issues.

“And so, there we have it,” James said when Jonathan finished describing how he had taken Achilles through the wormhole and spoken to Commodore Yen requesting he send his fleet through to secure the other side of the Bastion wormhole. Jonathan had left out exactly what he had said to Yen, and he was thankful when his father didn’t bring it up.

“Commodore Yen has secured the wormhole for now,” James continued. “Though for how long and what, if any, additional forces the Protectorate intended to send to aid Commodore Gifosous, we do not know. However, we have been given a stroke of luck in knowing what we do. If the Protectorate’s plan had been successful, we would be receiving a report that the wormhole had closed, and we would know nothing more. It would take more than two years to send a ship via normal space to Bastion to find out exactly what had happened. By then, I’m sure it would have been too late.”

“I’d say we had more than a stroke of luck,” General Johnston said as he nodded to Jonathan. “Skill and courage have got us this information.”

Jonathan felt his cheeks redden. General Johnston had been a towering figure in his childhood. The man appeared to be made of steel. The holo dramas about his accomplishments in the Karacknid War made it seem like he had killed thousands of Karacknid warriors barehanded by himself. To receive praise from him was not what Jonathan had expected coming into the meeting.

“Captain Somerville should be commended,” Grimshaw said as he glanced at Jonathan. “That is without doubt. However, I cannot say I am pleased by this report he has brought. This Protectorate seems large, well-organized and intent on driving us out of the Conclave sector. We cannot afford to open up a third defensive front. If the Protectorate are as much of a threat as they appear, trying to fight them could weaken us to the point where either of the three Karacknid Contenders could walk over our defenses and conquer us at will.”

“You are not suggesting we abandon Bastion and the Conclave species?” Johnston asked. “They are our allies.”

Grimshaw shook his head. “I’m suggesting nothing of the sort, simply pointing out the strategic situation we find ourselves in. If this Protectorate fleet moves on Bastion, can Rear Admiral Salamanca hold his position with the forces at his disposal?” Grimshaw asked as he turned to James.

James shook his head as he spoke. “I seriously doubt it. Salamanca is a good commander of course, but it is clear the Protectorate have done their research on us. If they move on Bastion, it’s because they believe they have the ships and weapons they need to win. If Salamanca can recall the ships we have along the Conclave-Karacknid border, he could possibly drive this Protectorate fleet back. But it would take a couple of months for the orders to be sent and the ships to return to Bastion.”

“And that also assumes the Protectorate doesn’t have other fleets that will strike into Conclave space when this fleet hits Bastion,” Admiral Hipper pointed out. “It appears that this plan of the Protectorate’s has been designed to rely on the element of surprise. Striking at the Conclave worlds at the same time would allow them to take many worlds before the Conclave species could react.”

“Indeed,” James said. “At this stage, we must base our decisions on the fleet Jonathan has discovered. But we really know very little about the Protectorate’s full strength.”

“But we can make some educated guesses,” Andrea said in a worried voice. “The Eaglatons are clearly the senior species of this Protectorate. It stands to reason that they would have a fleet at least twice the size of the subordinate species. We also know from our own military experience, that throughout the Karacknid war, neither we, nor our allies, nor the Karacknids devoted more than half of our total strength to one campaign. Given these very conservative estimates, that would indicate that the three species building up their forces at Farvul’vian could have another two thousand warships at their disposal, and the Eaglatons themselves, another four thousand. At an absolute minimum then, we could be facing an enemy who could deploy over eight thousand warships against us.”

“And how does that compare to the combined forces we have in the Conclave sector?” Commoner Maddison asked.

“It is comparable,” James answered. “If Salamanca could rally all the Nanee, Conclave, and Imperial ships in the sector together, he could face such a fleet on equal terms. The problem is that our forces are spread out protecting a border over two hundred light years long.”

“And the border they are protecting is the wrong one!” Johnston added.

“So we must commit extra ships, or we will lose Bastion and the Conclave sector,” Maddison concluded. James nodded.

“But at what cost?” Grimshaw asked. “What ships do we have to commit? And by committing them, where are we weakening ourselves?”

“There are no easy answers to that,” James admitted. “Though given the immediacy of the situation, I think we send whatever ships we can get there the fastest. That means Commodore Yen’s fleet, the few ships we still have in the Sol and nearby systems, and the nearest elements of Admiral Becket’s fleet.”

“And if the Flex-aor return in strength?” Lafayette asked.

“Then we deal with them,” James answered. “If we agree to send ships through the wormhole now, we can send word to Varanni Prime requesting additional support. The Varanni should have enough ships to replace what we initially send through. It may be that all we need to do is make a show of force to deter the Protectorate. If their plans were based on surprise, that has gone now.”

Christine placed her hands on the briefing room desk. Throughout Jonathan’s entire account, she hadn’t spoken once. When she did now, everyone looked to her. “My husband is also assuming the Protectorate hasn’t already launched a full-scale attack. Commodore Gifosous’ actions were clearly the initial stage of an invasion, but it’s possible the rest of their plans were put into motion without confirming if Gifosous had closed the wormhole or not. For all we know, Admiral Salamanca may be fighting for his very life as we speak. Hearing my son’s account first-hand has convinced me, we must send all possible aid through the wormhole as soon as we can.”

James’s tone hardened. “I concur.” As he continued to speak, he looked around at the rest of the council members, holding each one’s gaze for several moments before looking on. “Strategically, we are in a dire situation. Stripping ships from our border with the Karacknid empire to face the Flex-aor has already weakened our defenses. Pulling more ships from our southern borders will inevitably mean we have to divert more from the Karacknid border as well. But we have no choice, do we? Unless we’re prepared to evacuate the Bastion colony and abandon our allies? And if we do, they will either be conquered by the Karacknids or this new Protectorate. We would be abandoning the Conclave species and the Nanee and breaking our word to them.”

“We would also lose a vital strategic advantage in the event of any future war with the Karacknids,” Fairfax, Christine’s Chief of Staff pointed out. “I am no expert strategist, but we all know Emperor Somerville’s Gayla campaign demonstrated the Gift allows us to force the Karacknids to fight on two fronts, while it is effectively one large front for us. If we abandon Bastion and the Conclave species now, when the Karacknid’s decide to renew the war, they will be able to concentrate all their forces against us here.”

“And yet, that assumes we would be able to hold the Conclave sector,” Grimshaw said. “If this Protectorate is intent on liberating them as they see it, we may not have the forces to stop them. Sending more ships now would only increase our losses.” The Senator held up a hand as James opened his mouth quickly. “However, the point is taken. I do not see how we can abandon our allies. Yet, sending any kind of sizable fleet through to the Conclave sector is going to weaken our other borders considerably. It makes me nervous. None of us want to see another Chennai.”

“We certainly do not,” James agreed. “But as we heard from Alveraz, there is still a narrow window where we do not believe the Karacknids can attack us yet. I believe we need to use this time to nip this threat in the bud if we can. We should send as many ships to reinforce Salamanca as possible before the situation gets more out of hand.”

“So you want to pull more ships from the Karacknid border?” Lafayette asked.

James nodded, “As well as increase our ship production considerably. We are now facing three different threats. As much as it may not be popular with the general populace, I believe we need to bring a much-expanded military budget to the three Houses, in addition to pulling ships from the Karacknid border.”

James’s words were met with silence. Jonathan swallowed as he looked around at council members. There was a clear split. Several Admirals were nodding whilst the politicians were looking at one another. Jonathan didn’t consider himself to be someone who had his finger on the pulse of what everyday life in the Empire was like. Yet, he was well aware that the expansion of the Imperial Navy was the greatest military build-up in Human history, no matter which way you measured it. Any talk of increasing the rate of expansion any further was bound to be unpopular in some parts.

“Perhaps we can also ask the Kulreans and Kalassai to help us as well,” Johnston suggested as he broke the silence. “I know we have no formal alliances, but they will understand the strategic situation. If we lose Bastion and the Conclave sector, in any future war with the Karacknids, more of the fighting will be focused on their doorstep.”

“That is certainly an avenue worth exploring,” Christine said. “I will make it a priority of the Diplomatic Corps. We can send FTL messages and delegations to both of their homeworlds to make our case. All this must come later, however. Today, we need to give the orders to dispatch what ships we can. I fear time is of the essence. Are there any other concerns? I think you all know which way James and I are leaning.” As Christine looked around at the council members, no one else spoke up.

When her eyes fell on Maddison, the independent Commoner sat forward. “There is one other thing that is bothering me. I can’t help but feel like we are stumbling about in the dark. Despite sending out long-range scouts, we have still not discovered this Racumin species who were helping the Karacknids arm the Flex-aor. And now another species, these Zardxians, have been lying about us to other sentient races. Yet, no one seems to know anything about them. If they even exist, they are operating in the dark. And even here in our own Empire, we are still struggling to figure out where all the credits and rare elements that funded the secessionist movement came from. It is like we are fighting against shadows and rumors.”

Christine shared a glance with James. Jonathan caught it. He knew his parents well enough to pick up on some of what passed between them. It was a thought they had already shared, one that gave them both a reason for concern. Jonathan had never put the dots together quite like that before. But now that Maddison had, it opened up questions Jonathan couldn’t answer. But a conspiracy on such a grand scale, is that even possible? Jonathan asked himself. The Protectorate were thousands of light years away from where he had encountered the Rasmorse freighter. And how could any of them have links to Human dissident movements within the Empire without Naval Intelligence finding out? Jonathan asked as he glanced at Admiral Alveraz. The head of the fleet’s intelligence division’s face was perfectly straight, not giving anything away. But that told Jonathan something in itself. Like his parents, this wasn’t the first time such thoughts were occurring to Alveraz.

“That is a worrying thought,” Christine said as most of the other council members looked at one another, Maddison’s suggestion was clearly new to them. “One this council will have to consider carefully in the weeks ahead. Right now, however, we must act. If there are no other reasons that would stop us from sending aid to Salamanca, then I believe we can give the command for the Admiralty to begin sending out the orders immediately.”

When no one spoke, Christine nodded and then turned to Nicholls. “I will go and arrange those orders at once,” James’ Chief of Staff responded. She got up and left right away.

“Thank you,” Christine said to Nicholls’ back as she left. She took a long slow breath in, and then turned back to the meeting. “Now, there are a host of related matters we must discuss and make decisions on, James?”

“There certainly are,” James agreed. “Logistics being the first.” He glanced at Grimshaw. “And then we can come to the politics of this new situation. We will have to tell the people before the day is out.”

Grimshaw nodded, and then everyone looked to Andrea. She tapped the holo display’s controls, and an intricate map of Imperial space with all the navy’s fleets and supply depots appeared. As she began to speak, Jonathan only half-listened. His mind pulled him elsewhere, back to Bastion and Salamanca, Smirnov, McMasters, and the others. If they weren’t already, they were about to be thrown into a conflict not of their making. A part of him felt jealous. No, he thought as he examined his feelings, not jealous, but he felt he needed to be a part of it. He had started the conflict, or at least his actions were the match that had lit the fire. He needed to see it through. Or… did he? He asked himself as other emotions filled him.

Memories of the final moments in the fight against Gifosous’ ship came back to him. He almost winced as he felt the energy weapons slam into Achilles again. Being involved would mean another ship. Did he really want another ship? Doubt crept into him. What if he lost it? What if he let another crew be decimated or killed entirely? Suddenly, guilt assaulted him. He was a naval officer; he had a duty to his Empire. He shouldn’t be shying away from taking up his responsibilities. The Protectorate needed to be confronted with all the force the Empire could muster. Yet, he couldn’t deny how he was feeling. He was scared. Scared of taking another command, scared of what would happen if he did. As everyone talked around him, Jonathan couldn’t help reliving the final battle with Gifosous once again. Discussing it with the council had brought it all back to the surface, and now, left to his own thoughts, he went through each moment feeling each hit and now remembering the lives he knew had been lost.

A nudge on his elbow brought him back the meeting. He glanced at his father guiltily as he realized his mother was speaking.

“I think we have covered the main points, at least enough to get the ball rolling on several fronts,” Christine said. “We will reconvene in four hours to go over several more issues. Right now, we all have work to do.” Tapping her hand on the briefing table, Christine stood. It was the signal for everyone else to stand. Some moved out of the briefing room right away, others began to chat to one another as they made plans.

“Come on,” James said as he placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “I think we could do with a few moments to ourselves. And, you need a distraction. Edward and Rachael are waiting.”

“But don’t you have work to do?” Jonathan asked, even as his excitement rose at the mention of his siblings.

“We both do,” Christine said as she moved to James’ side. “But, we can spare a moment to welcome our son home properly. Come on. We’ve had a room prepared.”

Not far from the large briefing room, Jonathan walked through an ornate wooden door into one of the Palace’s several small libraries. Within seconds, Rachael threw herself into him. The force of her embrace forced the air out of his lungs with a humph. “Jonathan, it’s so good to have you home!” She said enthusiastically.

“It’s good to see you,” Jonathan said. “You are certainly filling out,” he added as he pushed her back slightly to find the top of her head was now well past his nose. “And you’re putting on muscle!” he exclaimed as he felt her biceps where he had put his hands on her.

“General Johnston has me in the marine cadets,” Rachael said with a grin. “All the working out and hand-to-hand drills are paying off. Want to wrestle later?”

Jonathan half-turned to glance at his mom. Surprisingly, she was smiling. “I wouldn’t be too quick to agree to that if I were you,” Christine said. “She doesn’t like losing. You beat her once, and she’ll just keep demanding a rematch until she pins you.”

Jonathan chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Welcome home, brother,” Edward said as he stepped between Jonathan and Rachael. “You are doing us proud out there.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said, impressed by the serious tone in his voice. He was used to being pestered by his younger brother, not shown respect. “And how is the PhD going?” Jonathan asked with a smirk. He knew Edward’s PhD was really a cover. Edward was supposed to be at Britannia studying something or another. Instead, he was working as an analyst for Naval Intelligence.

“It has its ups and downs. It’s not nearly as exciting as your and Georgia’s work, but it is important,” Edward replied a little sheepishly.

“Indeed it is,” Jonathan said as he clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Without your people, the fleet would be blind.”

“Indeed you would!” Edward agreed. “Though it seems you are single-handily giving us enough work for the next decade. I’ve been on the team looking into the Rasmorse, and then, I hear today we are all to get ready for several new special assignments. I’m assuming that has something to do with your sudden return and the emergency Inner Council meeting?”

“Yes, your brother is developing a knack for getting himself and the rest of the Empire into trouble,” James said as he moved passed the two boys.

“Stop teasing him, you two,” Christine added as she followed James and moved towards a small table with some refreshments on it. “Come and sit down all of you, and enjoy some hors d’oeuvres. I am planning to serve them at an upcoming function, and want to get your thoughts on them.”

As they sat, Rachael and Edward began asking Jonathan a number of questions.  It started with what it was like to go through the Gift wormhole. Then they moved on to his experiences meeting other alien races and commanding so many people. Expertly, they managed to avoid touching directly on Achilles’ loss and her final battle. Clearly, his mother had given them very clear instructions about what topics were off limits. Jonathan was thankful when his mother, sensing his discomfort talking about it all, changed the subject to Rachael’s schooling, and then Edward’s love life.

Soon, Jonathan found himself laughing with his family like he had done so many times growing up. Yet, the joy was bittersweet, for it served to remind him of the many families that would soon be learning of the loss of their loved ones. He had written letters to each of them on the journey back from the Gift. Each letter represented a family that would never again feel as whole as his did now. As such thoughts went through his head, occasionally, Jonathan would catch his father staring at him. As best he could, Jonathan tried to show his father he was all right. He wasn’t sure it worked, for he knew he was struggling to convince himself, let alone someone with his father’s experience.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when Rachael asked a question, she knew she shouldn’t have. “Will you be writing orders for Georgia’s squadron to go through the Gift?” Immediately, her hands came up to cover her mouth.

James glanced at Jonathan while Christine mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to him. “It’s all right,” Jonathan said, “we can talk about it.”

“In that case, I don’t think it matters what orders I give,” James explained to his daughter. “I suspect your brother’s news will be reaching Admiral Becket any day now. She will likely take matters into her own hands until she receives specific orders from us.”

“So she will go to the Gift?” Rachael asked. She turned to Jonathan before she got an answer. “Georgia’s carrier is at New Delhi carrying out repairs. She may end up going through the wormhole too. Do you think she’ll be alright?”

Jonathan found himself at a loss for words.  Suddenly, he was picturing Georgia in her small fighter going up against the thousand warships he had seen at Farvul’vian. Thankfully, Christine came to his aid again as she asked Rachael a question, turning everyone’s attention away from him. With a great deal of effort, Jonathan fought to keep his mind focused on the back and forth between his family, rather than let his thoughts run away from him. It truly was good to be home, but it also reminded him of what so many of his crew had lost. ‘War is never fun,’ his father had often told him growing up, ‘Never make the mistake of thinking that it is.’

As Jonathan watched his dad joke and play with Edward and Rachael, he wondered how he dealt with all the loss he had experienced. When Jonathan turned and found his mother staring at him, he quickly realized at least part of the answer was in front of him. The older he got, the more he realized just how good a team they both made. Perhaps I need to start thinking about finding someone, he thought. Quickly, he dismissed the idea. If his mother got even a hint he might be interested in looking for a wife, he knew she would run amuck in his personal life. When he saw a glint in her eye as she continued to look at him, he feared the worst. She can’t read my mind, can she? He asked himself, a sudden fear of just what she was planning driving out all his other concerns.

Chapter 26

In times of peace or war, for the Empire’s best commanders, there is rarely any rest.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

New Delhi, 21st October 2509 AD, (two days later).

IS Trident

Admiral Becket had come to Trident’s bridge for a change of scenery. She was reading through the latest scout reports her staff officers had collated for her. It was dreary work, for there were still no sightings of any Flex-aor ships. Not even any Flex-aor scouts had been spotted trying to get a look at her fleet dispositions. Nevertheless, she still had to keep abreast of the reports to ensure her sense of the strategic situation was always up to date. Being on the bridge meant she immediately sensed the mood change around her. Her head snapped up from her datapad at once. “What is it?” she asked when she found two junior Lieutenants staring at each other across their consoles. “Well?” she prompted.

“A frigate from the Gift Defense Fleet has just jumped into the system,” one of them answered. “It has transmitted a priority message for you.”

“Then send it to my command chair,” Becket insisted. “What is the hold-up?”

“Sorry, Admiral,” the other Lieutenant said. “Protocol is to send it to your Chief of Staff for him to send it on to you.”

“Well, I am here, send a request for him to join us on the bridge, but I want to see it now,” Becket replied. She had no idea why Commodore Yen would be sending her a priority message. Unless, Becket thought, war has broken out along the Conclave border with the Karacknids. Her body tensed. If the Karacknids had launched a surprise attack, the first news to reach her would come from Bastion. They could be attacking all across the border forts north of Earth as well, she feared.

As soon as the communication reached her command chair, Becket pulled it up and rushed through it. She relaxed as soon as she saw there was no mention of the Karacknids. Then she frowned as she read further. Someone had figured out a way to close the wormhole to Bastion! And they have an invasion fleet! Becket looked up from her datapad. On a secondary holo display, she already had a star map depicting the disposition of all her forces. Under her command, she had five thousand Imperial, Varanni Alliance and Vestarian warships. Yet they were split up, defending eleven colonies or pushed further out beyond Imperial territory, searching for any attempt by Flex-aor forces to launch an attack. She shook her head as she reassessed the situation. She could spare very few ships, yet she understood exactly what Yen and Somerville were warning about. Salamanca is going to need all the help we can give him, she thought to herself as she began to mentally rearrange her forces.

Minutes later, when her Chief of Staff Albright walked onto the bridge, closely followed by Godwin, Trident’s Captain, Becket already had a string of orders to give them. “Send a flash alert to the fleet,” Becket said as they moved to their command chairs. “Our ships are to prepare to break orbit. I want every ship that is battle-ready from those who were undergoing repairs. I have orders I want sent to the fleets at Vestar, Haven, Québec, and Chester. They are going to need to send forces here to cover New Delhi.”

“Right away,” Albright responded. “Have the Flex-aor been sighted?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Becket said as Albright and Godwin looked up at her.  “Our scouts based at Bastion have discovered a new enemy. They call themselves the Protectorate. They have already tried to close the Bastion wormhole. There may also be an invasion fleet on its way to assault Bastion. We are the closest fleet of any size that can respond. We need to leave immediately. I’ll write up orders to be sent to Admiral Alveraz, Emilie will have to assume overall command of our southern defenses.” Albright and Godwin stared at each other for a moment. “You can both read Captain Somerville’s report momentarily. We need to get these orders moving first.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Albright said as she spun back to her command console.

Becket left her to it, and instead pulled up Somerville’s report of his battle with the Eaglaton warships. She began to read it more carefully, for she feared she would soon have to fight the same enemy herself.

*

Archimedes

Georgia took a deep breath and fell into her focused state. Her squadron of eleven fighters was racing towards twelve contacts. She had just been assigned four new pilots, and it was time to see just how good they were. As soon as they came into range, two missiles were released by each of the contacts. They zoomed towards Georgia’s fighters. She didn’t have to give any orders; the pilots knew what needed to be done. Just before the missiles reached them, they released their flares and began to carry out evasive maneuvers. Missiles exploded all around Georgia, she saw each of them coming however and easily dodged the shrapnel their detonations released. She sensed rather than saw at least one of her fighters succumb to the missiles. Yet, there was no time to assess who it was, for mere seconds after the last missile exploded, both groups of fighters crashed into each other.

Georgia weaved and dipped, even as she brought her nose up at the last second to point it right at an enemy contact. She depressed her trigger for a fraction of a second, releasing twenty laser beams. They covered the twelve kilometers to her target in the blink of an eye. It immediately vanished in a small explosion. Then the enemy fighters flashed past her squadron. At once, every one of Georgia’s fighters began to break and turn. Their opposition did the same. In the brief moments of respite, Georgia saw she had lost four fighters while her opponents had lost two. “Use them wisely,” she ordered her pilots. Where the enemy squadron had depleted all their missiles in an effort to reduce her numbers from the beginning of the engagement, Georgia had chosen to bide her time.

As both groups of fighters crashed into one another again, this time at a much slower speed, missiles began to erupt from Starling squadron’s fighters. The enemy pilots were good, using their ECM, flares, and flying skills, they dodged many of them. Even so, the ball of weaving fighters began to be filled with explosions as missiles and laser beams found their targets.

Georgia grunted in satisfaction as she slotted her fighter in right behind an enemy. She flashed laser beams past its port bow causing it to twist to starboard. As soon as it did, she launched a missile from less than twenty kilometers away. It streaked through space in a heartbeat and blew up the Imperial fighter before it could react. Right away Georgia turned to find another target. Suddenly, she was blinded by a bright light. Her hand rushed up to cover her eyes as she hissed. Someone had opened the cockpit of her flight simulator.

“I’m sorry Flight Leader,” the familiar voice of one of Archimedes’ engineers said sheepishly. “Captain Wyoming has ordered the crew to prepare to break orbit.”

“We have been reassigned to active duty?” Georgia asked, her voice rising in excitement.

The engineer nodded. “I don’t have all the details, but supposedly, Archimedes was sent a flash alert to prepare to break orbit and head to the Gift.”

Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “The Gift?” she asked as she wondered what on earth was taking them there. Then, she remembered her brother had been assigned to Bastion station. What trouble have you got us into now? She thought as a rueful grin spread across her face. She expected it had nothing to do with him, but if she saw him, she’d have to give him a hard time for needing his younger sister to come to his aid.

“What’s going on, skipper?” Starling Two called out as they began to emerge from their simulators. “We had Bingo squadron!”

“That we did,” Georgia agreed. She was frustrated herself, she had been about to get her third kill of the simulation. “Though I’m not so sure how much of that was thanks to you, Starling Two.” When Jenny frowned, Georgia shot her a wink. After surviving Ala’ron’s ambush together, their friendship had been deepening. When Jenny shot her a dirty look, Georgia ignored it and turned to the rest of her pilots. “Archimedes has just been reassigned to active duty. Our repairs are complete, or at least as complete as they’re going to get. I don’t know why, but we’re heading to the Gift. So, everyone is to head to their duty stations, we need to get ready to leave.”

“Aye, Flight Leader,” several of her pilots echoed.

As they jumped out of their simulators, Georgia eyed her four new pilots. Understandably, they didn’t move with quite the same spring as her other pilots. They were all rookies. Georgia knew there was no way she could overcome their fear. That would only come once they had faced real combat and survived. But I can drill them until even all their dreams are about combat, Georgia told herself. She was determined her pilots would be as ready as they could be for whatever they were about to face.

*

Earth, (same time).

“Come in,” the familiar voice of Jonathan’s father called through the open office doors.

Though it was a room Jonathan had been in hundreds of times before, he stepped over the threshold with trepidation. His father had sent a formal request for the meeting through the Admiralty. Given that they had eaten breakfast together just hours before and his father hadn’t mentioned it, Jonathan was concerned. As soon as he entered the office, his father stood up from his desk. “Please, come and take a seat,” he said in a neutral tone, not giving anything away.

Moving to the desk, Jonathan couldn’t help but be drawn in by the holographic image of an Imperial warship. It looked about the size of a medium cruiser, yet it had four bulbous protrusions running down its flanks. As he sat in the seat his father had indicated, James nodded to the image. “She is not your typical ship, is she?”

“No, Sir,” Jonathan answered. “I haven’t come across anything quite like it. Is she an experimental ship?”

“In many ways,” James replied. “Her name is Kestrel; she is what R&D are calling a drone cruiser. Each of those additional compartments houses four PD laser drones. They are larger than the two Achilles had. They also have their own sensors as well. They are connected by their own laser COM array and link directly into Kestrel’s targeting computers.”

“But I thought all the tests with additional drones showed they lost their effectiveness once the explosions and evasive maneuvers began,” Jonathan asked.

James nodded. “They did. In a large scale battle, the drones wouldn’t be useful for much other than pushing them ahead of the fleet to mess up the timing of the first enemy salvo. However, in a smaller engagement, in a one-on-one fight, our simulations and tests suggest they would give Kestrel a defensive edge. The drones have additional maneuvering thrusters, enabling them to keep station with a warship carrying out evasive maneuvers. They should allow Kestrel to tango with a more powerful foe, or several less powerful ones. She is designed to patrol in The Wilds and cover areas a small flotilla would have been needed to cover before… So tell me,” James said as he locked eyes with Jonathan. “Truthfully, are you ready for another command so soon after losing Achilles?”

Jonathan froze. The official inquiry into Achilles’ loss had been scheduled for the end of the month. He had spent almost all of his free time being debriefed by the Admiralty or advising Inner Council members who wanted to quiz him more. As for his father and mother, they had been very conspicuously avoiding discussion about Achilles’ loss with him since he had returned to Earth. Being offered another ship was the last thing he had been expecting. And yet, it wasn’t just the shock that made him hesitate. His eyes flicked to Kestrel. A medium cruiser had a crew five times that of Achilles. That was five times the number of people he would be responsible for. And five times the number of people you could lose, a voice in the back of his head pointed out. Unable to hide his sense of shame, Jonathan glanced at his father and then down at his feet.

“I see,” James said slowly. “Good,” he added in a brighter tone. It made Jonathan’s eyes shoot up and narrow. “A Captain that can lose a ship and then two weeks later just walk onto the bridge of another without a care in the world is not someone I want commanding a customs corvette, never mind an Imperial cruiser. You are hurting, that is good, it shows you care,” James said, giving Jonathan a reassuring smile. “And you feel guilty. You should feel that, too. She was your ship and your crew. You chose to take them into harm’s way, and they suffered the consequences. But that is what you were trained to do; more, it was what your mother and I raised you to do. We couldn’t be prouder. And yet at the same time we are hurting with you. We both know what it is like to lose those under our care, which means we both know it takes time to process such a loss and to regain the fight it takes to step up to the plate once again.”

“Thank you, father,” Jonathan said, only able to hold his father’s gaze for a moment. “I’m sorry I’m hesitant. But I don’t want to let you or anyone else down.”

“Let me assure you, you haven’t yet,” James said as his tone softened. “And I am confident you won’t, either. Which is why Kestrel is yours,” he added with a smile. He quickly held up his hands as Jonathan began to shake his head. “I am speaking as your Emperor and Admiral now, Captain, this is not an offer, but a command. I know what is best for my Captains far better than they may think they do… However, you will not be taking command right away. I have just assigned Lieutenant Cortez to take over the completion of Kestrel’s space trials to prepare her for your command. It will be at least a month before she is ready to join the fleet, and even then, R&D may want to go over her again before releasing her. I’ve given Cortez permission to take her pick from Achilles’ former officers and crew. They all deserve several weeks of shore leave, of course, but given the new threat of the Protectorate, they will have to make do with a couple of days.

“You, on the other hand, will be leaving Earth today. You may not be ready to take on a new command right this very minute, but what you do need is some responsibility, something to keep you from constantly dwelling on the past. More importantly, the fleet heading into the Conclave sector needs someone who knows the enemy they are going to face. That is why I am temporarily seconding you to Admiral Becket’s command staff. As you know, she has orders to take some of her strength through to aid Rear Admiral Salamanca if she hasn’t already begun to move of her own accord. You will rendezvous with her fleet when it reaches the Gift and aid her in any way you can.”

Jonathan was taken aback. He had been expecting to be stuck planet side for months. Now, he was being ordered straight back through the wormhole. To where the action is, he realized. To the unfinished business you have with Lvant and the Protectorate. And a ship will be waiting for you. The last thought made him pause. He appreciated his father’s words, but he still wasn’t sure.

James gave his son another reassuring smile. “I know you are not ready yet, but you will be. You are becoming one of my best Captains. I can’t have you sitting on the sidelines while a new enemy tries to destroy us. You will go with Becket, and by the time Kestrel is ready to join her fleet, you will be ready. Trust me.”

The way he was feeling, Jonathan couldn’t see how his father could be right. But that is why he’s asking you to trust him. He has been through this himself, Jonathan reminded himself. And it wouldn’t be trust if you already knew it yourself. Jonathan nodded to his father. He did trust him, implicitly.

“Then it is settled,” James said. “You can speak with Cortez before you go to check in with her. But Squirrel is leaving for the Gift within the next six hours. I expect you to say goodbye to everyone and be on board half an hour before she is scheduled to break orbit.”

“Of course, Sir,” Jonathan replied formally. Another thought occurred to him. “But what about the inquiry?”

“Your report before the Inner Council was recorded so the members could review it afterwards. It will have to be edited to remove any sensitive information, but given how many questions you were asked, it will suffice for the inquiry. Your other officers will be able to fill in any other gaps the inquiry Admirals may have.”

“Are you sure?” Jonathan asked, feeling nervous again. He didn’t like the idea of not being able to defend himself.

James laughed. “My dear boy,

the inquiry is just a formality. You single-handily engaged a superior enemy force and won a strategic victory, even if you lost your ship. You are in no danger of being reprimanded or stripped of your rank. Being awarded a medal is a much more likely outcome.”

Jonathan’s face reddened as he glanced at the couple of medals on his father’s chest. He knew his father hated wearing all his medals, but there were two that were special enough that he kept them in place. Jonathan would be lying if he said growing up, he hadn’t dreamed of winning his own. “I don’t think that’s likely,” he replied.

James simply gave a slight shake of his head as he grinned. “We shall just have to see then.” For a moment, James looked down at his datapad, and then his grin widened. “There is one more thing we need to discuss before we say our farewells.” James tapped a button built into his desk. “You may send her in now,” he said to one of his secretaries.

Jonathan turned around as the door to the office opened to see who was coming. His eyebrows rose in shock and then quickly dropped into a frown. “What are you doing here?”

Becca shot him a cheeky grin, winked, and then walked past him without answering. Instead, she moved in front of James and stood at attention and gave him a salute. “Major Samuels reporting as requested, Admiral.”

Major? Jonathan asked himself. They had barely been back on Earth for two days, and already, she had managed to get herself a significant promotion. He didn’t understand it, but given the small smile that was still on his father’s face, he suspected his dad had something to do with it.

“At ease, Major Samuels,” James said as he gave her a quick salute. “Please, take a seat. Should I explain it to him, or do you want to?” James asked once she made herself comfortable.

“I think it might be better he heard it from you, Admiral,” Becca replied. Her eyes darted towards Jonathan. “I don’t think he’d take it as well coming from me.”

Jonathan wanted to hiss at Becca. Her nonchalant attitude was fine around him, but she was speaking to the Emperor! He didn’t dare, though; he was sure she would just take it as an excuse to be even more sassy. Instead, he frowned again when he noticed the marine wasn’t in her typical uniform. Her fatigues had a slightly darker hue. It took him a moment to figure what that meant. Oh no! he thought as his father began to explain.

“Very well,” James said. “Major Samuels here has brought something important to my attention. If you held a position on Earth, as my heir, the Imperial guard would provide you a significant protection detail. However, since you’ve been in the Navy, you haven’t needed one. You’ve been surrounded by Marines on every ship. Yet, now as a Captain, and an accomplished one at that, you have been taking trips off ship to visit the palaces of foreign kings or worse to raid pirate bases. That’s hardly the kind of activity the heir to our entire Empire should be undertaking alone. Major Samuels is right, and so I have instructed General Johnston to form a new section of the Imperial Guards solely tasked with protecting the Imperial Heir. For now, it will be a small division, just eight special forces marines. That should be enough to maintain a constant protection on you. After reviewing Major Samuels’ record, Johnston decided she is well-qualified to head up the division. I thought you would be happier with someone you know.”

Jonathan shook his head. “This is not necessary. I don’t need marines traipsing around me everywhere I go. I see how much it irritates you. And besides, I have my own augments, I don’t need additional protection.”

Becca raised a hand to her mouth as she stifled a laugh. James raised an eyebrow as he nodded towards her. “The head of your Imperial Guard detachment seems to think otherwise. I understand she has been your sparring partner for more than a year now? I assume she would know best.”

Jonathan desperately thought of a good reason to squash the idea. He had no problem with Becca being the Major commanding marines on whatever ship he captained. But he didn’t need her or anyone else being his shadow. Yet, no good arguments would come to him. He decided to change tactic. “This is all happening very fast, surely it needs to go through some kind of review process? I’m hardly going to need any guards while I serve on Admiral Becket’s command staff. Maybe this can wait until I return to earth?”

James chuckled. “Nice try. But like your assignment, this isn’t open for discussion. I’m informing you of a decision your mother, I, and the Inner Council have already taken. This is a done deal. You are the heir, you reminded Commodore Yen of the fact when it was expedient for you, now I’m reminding you of it.”

Jonathan turned to glare at Becca, she always seemed to find new ways to be a pain in his side. In response, she gave him a sweet smile. “It will be an honor to protect the Imperial heir, even if the company won’t be the best. I will do my duty.”

Jonathan let out a long breath as he shook his head. There was no beating her. His father laughed again. “I’d say you’ve met your match, son. Better to shut up and let her get on with it. Something tells me if you try to fight this, you will only lose and have wasted your time.”

“That’s how I see things too, Admiral,” Becca said as she winked at Jonathan. “He’s always telling me how wise you are. I guess sometimes he’s just a little too pig-headed to see it himself.”

Jonathan sighed a little more loudly. “All right, I don’t have the energy to fight the both of you. If there’s nothing else though, I’d like to get going. It sounds like I have a lot to do in the next few hours.”

“Of course, of course,” James said, still smiling. He stood and shook Jonathan’s hand. “Your mother and I will come to see you off when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking his father for. He snapped him a quick salute, and then turned to walk out of his father’s office. Stopping, he paused for a moment and half-turned. With one hand, he slapped his thigh twice. “Come on then, Shadow,” he said like he was calling a pet dog. The indignant fury that flashed across Becca’s face was worth the earful he was sure she would give him as soon as his father was out of earshot. Behind her, James was shaking his head, confident his son had made a significant miscalculation.

Chapter 27

Since war suddenly came upon us all, I have had little time to reflect upon the events that thrust me into the midst of one of the bloodiest conflicts in our species’ history. Writing this sequel to my first work of naval history has finally allowed me to do just that.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Hercules, 30th October 2509 AD, (nine days later). 

“We’ve got multiple engagements ongoing!” One of Hercules’ sensors officers called out just moments after the dreadnought reverted to real space within the Bastion system.

“I want details,” Salamanca demanded. “Order the fleet into defensive formation Delta-four.”

“Fourteen ships are engaging one another,” another officer reported seconds later. “Four are Imperial. The rest are unknown. None look to be larger than destroyers. There are ten other Imperial ships moving to support those already engaged.”

“A Protectorate scouting flotilla,” Smirnov guessed. As he spoke the holo display updated to show the small engagement.

Salamanca nodded. That was exactly what it looked like. Several unknown warships were trying to sneak past the system’s picket line. “We have arrived just in time, then. Inform Commodore Fran I want those Protectorate ships destroyed. They are not bringing whatever information they’ve collected on our defenses back to Admiral Lvant. Have Commodore Jamison’s destroyer flotilla move up to support her.”

“Yes, Sir,” Bianco responded.

Moments later, twenty light cruisers, destroyers, and frigates rushed ahead of Hercules. Another eight destroyers moved out of formation from further back in the fleet and followed closely behind. Salamanca didn’t want to take any chances. The Protectorate ships which had been trying to fight their way past the Imperial picket ships were already turning, having detected the return of Salamanca’s fleet. Salamanca sat forward in his command chair as he watched them closely. He knew almost nothing about the Protectorate fleet. He didn’t even know which species’ ships he was looking at. Any small detail he could glean would prove valuable in the coming weeks.

The first thing he noticed were the missiles the Protectorate ships already had in space. Their acceleration rates were impressive. Not quite what the missiles from Imperial ships they were engaging had fired, but close. In his mind, he traced back the missiles to the point where they must have been fired. They have an impressive range as well, he reluctantly conceded. It looked like the Protectorate ships could match or even perhaps better the range of Imperial mark VII missiles. The Protectorate ships were also exhibiting an impressive turn of speed. Now that they had decided to run, they were opening the distance to three of his ships that had been trying to engage them. Partly, that was due to the momentum they were already carrying, but a lesser ship still wouldn’t have been able to pull away. “Signal Orca to pull back,” Salamanca ordered. As much as he was sure the light cruiser’s Captain wanted to continue the battle, if she got isolated, her defenses were likely to be overrun.

“I’m detecting wreckage,” the first sensor officer updated everyone, “at these three locations. One looks to be from an Imperial warship. The others from two of these unknown ships.”

Salamanca winced. If an Imperial ship had been destroyed, it was the first he had lost under his command. The first of many, he couldn’t help but think. The report tensed his body as the first salvo of missiles approached Orca and the other picket ships. There was now no doubt they could do damage. To Salamanca’s surprise, the missiles that survived the point defenses fired at them exploded far earlier than he would have thought. Stand-off attack weapons, he realized. Before he finished his thought, the frigate Finch flared on the holo display.

“Finch’s shields just took a hit from something,” Salamanca’s tactical officer shouted. “I’m detecting a heat bloom from her hull. Whatever it was, it penetrated through the shields. I’m detecting atmosphere venting into space. She has a hull breach. It doesn’t look too serious, thankfully.”

Salamanca breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want another ship destroyed so soon after the first. He was glad he had sent so many ships with Commodore Fran. When the Protectorate ships didn’t fire another follow-up salvo at the system picket ships, he sat back in his command chair slightly. Thankfully, it appeared they were out of range. However, they still had to deal with a salvo from Orca and her consorts. Salamanca was disappointed when only one mark VII missile managed to punch through all the defensive fire from the twelve Protectorate ships. The anti-matter warhead detonated right in front of an enemy destroyer. When the anti-matter cleared, its nose section was gone. Yet, the destroyer was still charging away from Orca, keeping station with its consorts. Salamanca shook his head. “They must be built sturdy,” he said.

“They’re not even venting atmosphere,” Smirnov replied. Hercules’ Captain glanced at Salamanca. “They’ve been built to deal with anti-matter weaponry.”

Salamanca nodded. After the Karacknid War, the Imperial Fleet had gone through a significant redesign. The ease at which anti-matter ate through a ship’s hull and inner systems meant Imperial ships were now designed to lose large parts of their outer hulls and still remain functional, at least, functional enough to try and get out of harm’s way. The fact that losing its nose section hadn’t affected the Protectorate destroyer’s reactors, engines, or energy transfer systems at all suggested it had been built along the same lines. Which means they have been preparing to fight us for some time, Salamanca couldn’t help but conclude.

“I don’t think they’re going to escape,” Bianco commented as the paths of the various groups of ships continued to be updated on the holo plot. “Not unless they have some pretty advanced shift drives.”

The holo display showed that Commodore Fran’s force would bring the Protectorate ships into mark VII missile range before they reached the point where an Imperial ship could jump into shift space. Even if the Protectorate ships could jump out significantly closer to the system’s mass shadow, Fran would still get off two salvos. Though he hoped Bianco was right, Salamanca wasn’t ready to come to such a conclusion yet. There were still too many unknowns. “We shall see,” was all he was prepared to say.

As the engagement unfolded, Salamanca was able to glean more valuable data about the Protectorate ships’ capabilities. Fran’s squadron hammered four salvos into them whilst, the Protectorate ships only managed to fire three. Further, whilst the Protectorate ships had fared well against a small number of mark VII missiles, when outnumbered, their defenses crumbled. By the time the anti-matter from the third salvo dissipated, none of the Protectorate ships were left fully intact. It was obvious a final half-strength salvo would finish them off. On the other hand, the few Protectorate missiles that had got through Fran’s defenses had only caused minimal damage. The gaseous shields had diverted much of the energy from what had been confirmed to be bomb pumped grazers. Thankfully, the enemy missiles only released one beam each. With more, they would have been able to score many more hits.

“Signal and offer them the chance to surrender,” Salamanca ordered after Fran’s squadron fired a fourth understrength salvo.

“No response,” Salamanca’s COM’s officer reported a couple of minutes later. Salamanca shared another glance with Smirnov. If the Protectorate were like the Karacknids, and didn’t want to surrender or take prisoners, any war with them was going to be even more deadly.

“I’m detecting multiple launches coming from the surviving ships,” a sensor officer reported. “The launches look like shuttles and escape pods.”

“Order Commodore Fran to slow her missiles,” Salamanca snapped. Bianco nodded and began tapping on her console. “They’re abandoning ship,” he explained to his staff officers. “Let’s give them a chance to get all their people off.” Maybe they aren’t like the Karacknids after all, Salamanca hoped. If that was the case, there was no point killing more of them than necessary. And the more we have, the more we will get to interrogate, the more ruthless side of him thought. For five minutes, everyone on Hercules’ bridge watched as more shuttles and escape pods left the six remaining Protectorate ships. Then, just as Salamanca opened his mouth to order Fran to power down her missiles, what he expected but was hoping wouldn’t happen did; the six contacts disappeared as they self-destructed. Salamanca shook his head in disappointment, getting his hands on even one of the Protectorate ships would have been a goldmine of information. Too bad, he thought to himself as he mentally shrugged.

“All right then, set course for Bastion with our main fleet. Dispatch our messenger ships to Scalatar and the Gift, update their reports with the data we have collected from this engagement. Then order Commodore Fran’s ships to pick up all those survivors, and I want every bolt of debris from the Protectorate ships salvaged as well. Have Rear Admiral Montpellier remain behind with his squadron, he is to assume command of the system picket. I don’t want any more Protectorate ships trying to get a closer look at our defenses.”

“You believe that is what they were trying to do?” Bianco asked.

Salamanca nodded. “If they wanted to probe our defenses, they would have sent more ships. That was a recon mission, but I’m sure the probing attacks will come. For whatever reason, Admiral Lvant has set his sights on this system, which means we have preparations to make. Though now at least we have some information upon which to base our plans. So put your thinking caps on people, for sooner rather than later, I fear we will be fighting for Bastion’s future.”

*

Two days later and Salamanca sat in his office, flicking through live visual feeds from Hercules’ brig. He was waiting for Smirnov and his intelligence officer to brief him on their prisoners. Already, he had been surprised to find that they had rescued sentients from five different alien civilizations. All the ships they had been on had been of Higarian design, yet they had been crewed by a number of the Protectorate’s species. To an extent, the discovery went against much of what Salamanca had assumed about the galaxy. Even with the close relationship Humanity had formed with the species of the Varanni Alliance and Conclave species, they all still built and manned their own ships. The only exception was that the Imperial Fleet and Vestarian fleet had a sprinkling of officers from each species in them. And even then, that was largely due to the need for both fleets to work so closely together. The Protectorate, or at least the Higarians, seemed to have developed a truly integrated fleet. Salamanca had no idea how each ship accommodated the needs of each species, yet obviously, they were able to do so.

A beep from one of the hatches to his office made Salamanca look up. A small holo display showed Smirnov and Musalla were outside. “Come in,” he called out.

“We are ready to brief you, Admiral,” Smirnov said as he walked in. Salamanca gestured to two chairs opposite his desk. “Where do you want us to start?” Smirnov asked as he sat.

“You know what our interrogation teams have found out, let’s start where you think best,” Salamanca responded.

Smirnov nodded and then handed over a datapad to Salamanca. “It’s all on there. I recommend we send it back to Earth as is. No doubt Naval Intelligence analysts will want to go through the raw data. The short version is that they are not saying very much. It seems they have been instructed to give away as little about themselves as possible. However, we have come to know a few things. Firstly, they are Protectorate ships. All the ships that tried to sneak past our picket line were part of a Higarian flotilla. Neither their Commodore, nor any of the ship’s Captains, survived. The most senior officer we have is a First Lieutenant and he has refused to speak other than to give his name, rank, and dietary requirements. Thankfully, we’ve been able to piece together some things from what the others have said, mostly to each other in the holding cells.”

Salamanca gestured for Smirnov to go on. “Well, first things first, their flotilla was a part of Lvant’s fleet. We have no exact numbers, but they seem pretty confident his ships will soon be coming to the system, and with enough strength to take Bastion and liberate them.”

“Assuming Hercules isn’t destroyed in the battle, of course,” Salamanca said as he smiled wirily. 

“I think that’s what they’re hoping for,” Smirnov said as he smiled too. “It also appears they think their operation is part of some larger offensive. They don’t know any details; it just seems to be more of a sense they have got. If so, it means the Conclave worlds may be on the Protectorate’s radar as well.”

“And that they have other fleets than the one Somerville discovered,” Salamanca added. “We need to send that information on to the Conclave species right away.”

Smirnov nodded. “I’ve already included it in the report scheduled to go out with today’s messenger ship.”

“Good. What about their ships’ capabilities then, have we learnt anything more there?” Salamanca asked.

Musalla shook her head as she joined the conversation. “Most of the prisoners only know how to operate the equipment from their specific duty stations. Like the First Lieutenant, those who have a broader knowledge are not speaking. Going through the wreckage we recovered hasn’t revealed much, either. The ships were thoroughly destroyed, though we were able to confirm their ships are armored with valstronium, and there were trace radioactive elements suggesting they use fusion reactors.”

Salamanca was disappointed, though he hadn’t expected they would glean much strategic or tactical information. “What have we learnt then?”

“Mostly, the prisoners have been happy to tell us how much they disparage us,” Musalla answered. “That, and they like to talk about how great the Protectorate is. It is the latter that has proved the most valuable. In essence, we are pretty confident the Protectorate is made up of at least ten different species. They’ve all been brought together by the Eaglatons. To hear some of them speak of the Eaglatons, you would think they are all saints. Supposedly, they treat everyone fairly and have created a state of peace and harmony within the Protectorate.”

Salamanca bit his lip. “That doesn’t square with anything we have seen of this Protectorate so far.”

“And yet, it does appear to be what they all believe,” Musalla responded. “The prisoners have boasted of at least two aggressive species the Eaglatons have defeated in their efforts to bring peace to their neighbors. One of them actually appears to be the Tolodons, one of the species Somerville discovered amassing ships in the Farvul’vian system. Supposedly, the Eaglatons stopped them invading one of the other Protectorate civilizations, disarmed them, and over several centuries reformed them so they could be admitted into the Protectorate.”

Salamanca almost snorted. “They sound like us, only even better. Why on Earth are they attacking us, then?”

“That brings us to the other topic they were happy to discuss,” Musalla said. “They hate us. Or at least, they look down on us. Hate may be too strong, but from what they think of us, we stand for everything their Protectorate stands against. We have conquered the Conclave species and are also planning to conquer the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons. They believe that by attacking us, they are protecting their neighbors and living up to the example the Eaglatons have set them.”

Salamanca shook his head. Whoever was lying to the Protectorate had a lot to answer for. Or whoever is lying to the Protectorate’s people, he thought. He still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that the lies about the Human Empire were being spread by the Protectorate’s leadership to justify war. In fact, from what Musalla was sharing, it sounded quite possible. “What about Admiral Lvant’s aggressive actions against the Bar’samin and us, do they think those justified?”

Musalla nodded. “Most didn’t know much about the Bar’samin, other than that they had taken over their system to protect them. But, it seems they have no moral qualms with a pre-emptive strike for the sake of peace. In fact, to a person, all the prisoners are proud of what their fleet has come to do. Being taken prisoner is almost seen as a badge of honor.”

Salamanca sat back in his command chair. “I’m not liking the sound of any of this. If the Protectorate’s entire population has bought into the lies about us, it is going to be very hard to change their minds, and a motivated enemy is a dangerous one. I’m not sure if I wouldn’t prefer facing the Karacknids, at least I can understand their thirst for battle and conquest. It feels a little unnerving having these Protectorate species think of themselves as the good guys on some mission to defeat us.”

“On some crusade,” Smirnov said. “And we know how those turn out.”

“Indeed,” Salamanca said as he grew more worried. “Have we found anything we can use against them. Any weaknesses?”

Musalla and Smirnov glanced at one another and then Smirnov shrugged. “If things were different, and we had picked up these prisoners on some stricken transport ship, it almost sounds like we should become quick friends with the Protectorate. Yet, they have made us their enemies. I’m not sure we’re going to learn much more unless we’re prepared to try and make the more senior officers we have captured talk.”

Salamanca shook his head. “We’re not resorting to torture. Empress Christine would have my head if we did. There truly is nothing else?”

“Maybe one thing, though I don’t know how important it might be to the defense of Bastion,” Musalla said. “None of the species appear particularly physically intimidating. Certainly, they’re nothing like the Karacknids, Flex-aor, or the Gramrians. If there ever was to be any hand-to-hand fighting, our marines would wipe the floor with each of the five species that man the Higarian ships.”

Salamanca screwed up his face. “I’m not sure how many marine raids we’re going to be able to launch, but I guess it is something. If they take the orbitals, our Marines and Colonial Militia can perhaps continue the fight on the planet’s surface until reinforcements arrive.”

“That’s not a very optimistic thought,” Smirnov commented.

“No, it isn’t. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t come to that. Musalla, you have done some good work. Keep the interrogations going, and see if we can get any more tidbits from them. The priority is anything to do with their fleet and weapons systems. The political stuff is interesting, but it isn’t going to help us much in the short term.”

“Aye, Sir, I understand,” Musalla responded.

“You are dismissed for now then, Lieutenant. Captain, if you have the time, I have a few battle ideas I’d like to run by you,” Salamanca added.

Musalla saluted Salamanca, stood and left the office. Smirnov watched her go, and then turned back to Salamanca. “Of course, Admiral, that’s what I get paid the big bucks for.”

Salamanca rolled his eyes as he reached to activate his desk’s holo plot and bring up a simulation he had been working on.

Chapter 28

Friends are hard to come by, both in our personal lives, and in the life of the Empire.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Hercules, 6th November 2509 AD, (five days later).

“Admiral, two hundred ships have just entered the system,” Bianco’s voice informed Salamanca over a COM channel. “They have come from the Conclave shift passage.”

Salamanca set his datapad down on his office desk. He had just been re-reading Captain Somerville’s report. The first messenger ship from the Gift had arrived four days ago. When everyone had first read Somerville’s report, they had been amazed by how close to disaster they had come. Since then, Salamanca had been debating whether he should dispatch more ships to reinforce Yen. For if the wormhole was closed again, he would have no choice but to bring his fleet to try and open it. He had no doubt what Lvant would do then. Bastion would fall within a week, defenses or no defenses. In response to the new threat, he had sent additional requests to the Conclave Navy for help. They couldn’t have arrived yet, however. “I’m on my way,” he said in response to Bianco. He quickly jumped to his feet, eager to see who the newcomers were.

By the time he stepped onto Achilles’ bridge, the ships had been identified. They were from the Gramrian Home Fleet. Salamanca smiled when he saw Admiral Shraw’s dreadnought in the midst of the Gramrian fleet. The Admiral had commanded a fleet during the Gayla campaign, and Salamanca knew he was an extremely competent commander. Since being posted to Bastion, Salamanca had participated in a number of naval exercises with and against the raptor-like alien.

“It looks like he has brought all of the Gramrians’ Home Fleet,” Farshad, Salamanca’s tactical officer commented. “Do you think any of the other Conclave species will do likewise?”

“We can hope,” Salamanca replied. “But Shraw has always been their most decisive Admiral. And his worlds are the furthest from this new threat. I bet the other species are more than a little nervous by all the news we have been sending them.” In terms of shift passages, two of the five Conclave species homeworlds were almost as close to Farvul’vian as Bastion was. Even though Salamanca was sure Bastion was Lvant’s target, he understood if the other Conclave species were rushing to protect their borders first. “We may have to wait until forces can begin to be diverted from the Karacknid border to see real reinforcements joining us,” Salamanca added.

At least they should be on their way, he thought to himself. Shraw’s arrival had at least put one of his fears to rest. He had been badly unnerved to find out his warnings about the Protectorate had never reached Commodore Yen at the Gift. Though no wreckage had been detected by the additional ships he had sent out, there was only one reason why his messenger ships had failed to reach the Gift. Salamanca had sent out additional ships to Scalatar and Rear Admiral Walters as soon as he realized the risk his messenger ships faced. If the first messenger ships he had sent to them had been intercepted too, he feared any ships they might have sent would have been delayed by two weeks or more. Yet, unless the arrival of the Gramrian Home Fleet was a lucky coincidence, it meant the first ships he had sent got through. It was the only way Shraw could have arrived so quickly.

When Shraw’s flagship Inferno got into two-way communication range he was able to confirm Salamanca’s hopes. “Rear Admiral Salamanca, I am glad we are not too late to the party. It looks like you have been busy. You are expecting trouble then?”

Salamanca nodded seriously. “I am afraid so, Admiral. Much has happened since the last report I sent to you. I took a portion of my fleet to Dudllias and Ulan’nagn to try to convince the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons to destroy their gas mining and storage facilities. King Krilim destroyed his facilities, but we were too late reaching the Bar’samin. Admiral Lvant arrived as we were negotiating with them and took possession of the system. He now has a forward base from which to launch an attack against us here. Indeed, for the last week, we have been fending off strong scouting forces trying to get into the inner system to spy out our defenses. It is clear the Protectorate has its eyes on Bastion.”

Shraw’s tongue flicked in and out several times. “Things are developing even quicker than I feared. You have seen Lvant’s full force? How many ships does he have? When I read your report, I feared that the ships Somerville discovered would only prove to be a fraction of whatever ships the Protectorate has. They were unlikely to have them all massed in one system, unless they were preparing to launch their invasion right away.”

“I concur, Admiral, but I’m afraid we only encountered what I suspect to be Lvant’s advance force at Ulan’nagn. He had only just arrived to take over the system. I don’t think he would have risked moving his full force forward without securing it first.”

“Indeed,” Shraw replied. “At least, you seem to be making every preparation.”

“We are, Admiral,” Salamanca said proudly. “Everyone understands the risks we face. The whole colony’s populace is pulling together. There have been other worrying developments, though. Some of our messenger ships have been intercepted, and the Eaglatons appear to have the ability to close the Gift wormhole. They closed it for several days before Captain Somerville intervened. Commodore Yen has now moved his fleet through the wormhole to secure it. However, he only has a couple of hundred ships. I fear another attack may land there before Lvant moves against us.”

Shraw shook his head. “Much has happened in a short time. We will have to meet and go over it all in detail. Perhaps with my arrival, you can dispatch some more ships to the Gift to help secure it.”

“That is what I was thinking,” Salamanca agreed. “If you would like, you and your senior staff are welcome to join me and my people on Hercules as soon as you reach orbit. We can fully brief you on everything that has happened so far. I’m sure we would greatly benefit from you casting your eye over the preparations we have been making.”

“Of course, we are here to help in any way we can, Rear Admiral,” Shraw said. “And let me make it clear, this is your system. I will serve under you as long as I am here to help you defend it.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Salamanca replied. “Are we to expect any additional reinforcements in the near future? I expect Rear Admiral Walters should have already dispatched several hundred ships, but they won’t be here for another two weeks at the earliest.”

Shraw showed his teeth. “I am afraid not, Rear Admiral. On my way here, I received reports of strange warships being spotted in several border systems of the Lomalns and the Lalabrokes. They weren’t able to confirm if they were Protectorate ships, but they believe so. They and the other members of the Conclave are rushing as many ships as possible to their southern borders. It is unlikely they will have any to spare for the moment.”

Salamanca nodded to hide his disappointment. “Well, I am glad you are here, Admiral. Your advice will be worth another thousand ships. I will instruct my chef to prepare some refreshments for you and your staff.”

Shraw laughed. “Flattery is a peculiar Human activity, but I confess I do enjoy it, even if it makes little sense. Only a fool would trade me for another thousand ships. Nevertheless, we will meet and make our plans. If the Protectorate is under the false impression the Gramrian people or our neighbors are your slaves, my ships will soon dissuade them of that when they arrive.”

“I am glad to hear it, Admiral, please, make your way to my flagship at your earliest convenience,” Salamanca said as he gave Shraw a small bow as a sign of respect.

“We will speak again soon, Rear Admiral,” Shraw said as he returned Salamanca’s bow.

When the COM channel ended, Salamanca shared a look with Smirnov. Though the two hundred Gramrian ships didn’t significantly alter his fleet’s strength, it was encouraging to have a commander of Shraw’s stature joining them. Now we just have to figure out how to incorporate them into our plans, Salamanca thought as a number of ideas started to come to him.

As it turned out, Shraw had a number of ideas on how to use his force as well. In the end, Shraw and his staff officers spent more than four hours on Hercules after Inferno entered Bastion’s orbit. They went over everything; from Somerville’s report to the brief engagements Salamanca’s forces had had with Protectorate ships, to the plans for Bastion’s defense. They were only interrupted when a Sub Lieutenant’s squeaky voice came across a COM channel that had been opened from Hercules’ bridge. “Sorry to interrupt you, Rear Admiral Salamanca, Captain Smirnov, but a sizable force has just entered the system. Lieutenant Melville asked me to inform you. We have transferred the sensor feed to your briefing room.”

By the time Smirnov thanked the Sub Lieutenant, someone had switched the holo display to a live feed of the sensor date. Four hundred unknown ships were slowly moving into the system. The system picket squadron was fleeing before them.

“A reconnaissance in force,” Shraw said. “I guess that answers the question of whether or not you should send ships to the Gift. They are not getting past that fleet.”

“No, indeed not,” Salamanca agreed. “The question is, just what is their intention?”

“And how much of your strength do you want to show them at this stage?” Shraw added.

Salamanca nodded. If he revealed the full capabilities of Bastion’s defenses, it could deter the Protectorate fleet. Yet, it was also possible it would simply encourage them to begin their attack immediately. Keeping his strength hidden could be the only thing deterring them.  Without knowing just how many ships Lvant had, there was no way to know which was the right course to take. Salamanca made his decision based on a different set of criteria, then. “We will toy with them for as long as we can,” he informed Shraw. “Maybe they know what they are up against, but if not, I’d like to surprise them when their full fleet gets here.”

“A wise decision, Admiral,” Shraw replied. “Perhaps if we can hurt them hard enough, they will decide the battle no longer worth it. My staff and I will take our leave now. I expect things will get interesting very quickly.”

“I would walk you to your shuttle, but…” Salamanca said as he gestured to the holo display.

“Command your fleet, Admiral, I’ll be expecting orders as soon as I return to Inferno,” Shraw said as he peeled his lips back to reveal his razor-sharp teeth. “And I hope you will place me in the thick of the fighting.”

“You are my best commander, Admiral, you can count on it,” Salamanca promised Shraw. Standing, he gave the Gramrian a quick bow, and then nodded to each of Shraw’s staff officers as they hurried out of the briefing room. “To the bridge then,” Salamanca said to his own officers once they had left. Within a minute, he was sitting in his command chair.

“It looks like they are moving out to cover the two asteroid mining facilities near the shift passage’s opening,” Hunt, Salamanca’s sensor officer, reported moments after sitting at his station.

Salamanca brought a hand up to rub his jaw. He knew reinforcements had to be on their way to aid him, or at least, he very much hoped so. That meant his main priority was to delay the Protectorate fleet as much as possible. He could move ships out to contest whatever the Protectorate fleet had planned for the asteroid mining facilities, yet fighting so far from his forts would risk losing ships needlessly. In the short term, the mining facilities were of no consequence. He had already had all the unprocessed ore taken off them so the Protectorate couldn’t use the mined rocks to hurl at his defenses. The Protectorate could destroy the facilities for all he cared. But they don’t know that, he decided. “Send orders to Admiral Shraw and Commodore Vincent’s fleets, they are to prepare to break orbit and intercept the Protectorate forces before they reach the mining facilities. We will let them get a little more into the system before we try to cut them off, however.”

“Aye, Admiral, transmitting your orders now,” Bianco replied.

For half an hour, Salamanca watched the four hundred Protectorate ships as they split into two groups and moved towards the mining facilities. Once they were a reasonable distance from the system’s mass shadow and the point where they could jump out, he nodded to Bianco. Seconds later and Shraw’s two hundred ships broke orbit from Bastion while Commodore Vincent’s fleet left its position defending the Magellan fort. Salamanca smiled when the Protectorate ships didn’t react right away. It seemed they hadn’t anticipated he would actually try to defend the mining facilities.

“Enemy ships changing course,” Hunt reported over a minute later. On the holo display, it was obvious they were decelerating back towards the shift passage. Several smaller contacts didn’t follow the rest of the Protectorate ships, however. Instead, they increased their acceleration rates towards the two mining facilities.

“It looks like they’re still interested in scouting those mining facilities,” Smirnov commented. “Maybe they think we’re hiding something there?”

“A good point,” Salamanca said, that hadn’t occurred to him. “We could have several hundred fighters hiding in those facilities or the hollowed-out asteroids. That’s interesting. They must be nervous.”

“And it may mean they are expecting a prolonged battle,” Smirnov added. “A couple of hundred fighters wouldn’t threaten their main fleet, but they could pounce on any supply convoys they wished to bring deeper into the system as the battle progresses.”

“Indeed,” Salamanca said. “I’m almost starting to wish we had hidden some fighters in the outer system.”

“Shall we call Shraw and Vincent back?” Bianco asked.

“Not yet,” Salamanca said as he shook his head. “Let’s see what happens.”

For twenty minutes, the Protectorate ships continued to retrace their steps back towards the mass shadow. Then, they flipped nose over tail again and reverted back to their original course, though they didn’t move along with the same high acceleration. “Something tells me they are not so scared now,” Salamanca commented. The Protectorate ships were now close enough to the mass shadow that if Shraw or Vincent tried to close and force an engagement, they could still run and jump out. Or reinforcements could jump in to aid them, Salamanca thought more likely. “Instruct Shraw and Vincent to slow their pursuit and be prepared to return to their original positions,” Salamanca ordered, though he was sure Shraw was just as aware of the danger as he was.

Almost as soon as the Allied warships began to slow, the Protectorate forces reacted. Hundreds of new contacts began to appear on the holo plot. Lvant was jumping in his main fleet. Salamanca found himself holding his breath as the number of contacts steadily rose. Within a minute, the number passed fifteen hundred and continued to rise. Lvant had brought more than the advanced fleet he had secured Ulan’nagn with. It didn’t stop rising until it reached six thousand. Salamanca shared glances with Smirnov and Bianco. As they suspected, the Protectorates had been mustering more forces than just the one Somerville had discovered.

“Well,” Salamanca said making himself sound more jovial than he felt, “now we know what we are facing. And at least, we’re not picking up any Eaglaton ships, that’s something in our favor.”  Careful analysis of Somerville’s battle with the two Eaglaton light cruisers and the skirmishes Bastion’s picket ships had fought suggested the Eaglaton warships were the most powerful ships built by the Protectorate species. Salamanca was indeed relieved not to be detecting any. However, it did make him wonder where they were.

Over the next half an hour, Salamanca and his staff officers studied the enemy fleet carefully as it moved into the system. Small flotillas broke away at regular intervals, and hundreds of recon drones were launched to scout out all of the solar system’s features before the main fleet approached. Asteroid fields, small planetary bodies, and even comets were bathed in electromagnetic sensor energy.

“They are paranoid,” Smirnov said. “Though they are doing exactly what I would.”

“Yes,” Salamanca replied. “It’s almost as if they know the kind of tricks we have used against the Karacknids and the Flex-aor in the past.” As if someone has briefed them on our military tactics, as well as our politics. Only this time, it hasn’t been lies the Protectorate have been fed, Salamanca thought, though he decided his staff officers didn’t need distracted with such conclusions.

“We’re getting a COM message from the Protectorate fleet,” Salamanca’s COM officer reported. “It’s the same Admiral Lvant you spoke to at Ulan’nagn.” Salamanca had no desire to speak to the Protectorate Admiral. His intentions were clear, what was the point in wasting words? Yet, he nodded to his COM officer, nonetheless.

“People of the Bastion colony, I am Admiral Lvant. I am here because this system has been used as a base to conquer and enslave many nearby species. On behalf of the Eaglaton Protectorate, I have come to bring an end to your rule of terror. However, I wish to see no more deaths than are necessary to free our brother and sister species. Humans, if you will lay down your arms, we will accept your surrender and grant you safe passage back to your wormhole and to your sector of the galaxy. There need be no blood shed if you will simply relinquish your hegemony over the species in this sector.”

Salamanca’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He knew Commodore Gifosous had offered Captain Somerville the chance to surrender, but that was in a one-on-one ship engagement. He had never heard of an entire system surrendering before. Certainly not before a shot had been fired.

“Do you wish to reply?” Bianco asked, from her tone it was clear he should say something.

Salamanca sighed. “Very well,” he replied and then sat straighter in his command chair. “Admiral Lvant, your ships have already attacked several of mine over the last week and more. I know your Protectorate has also tried to close our wormhole. Well, those efforts have failed. I would therefore advise you to turn your ships around and return to your systems. You are the aggressors here. We have not conquered or enslaved anyone. Someone has deceived you into attacking us. Your Protectorate and the Eaglatons are more like us than you think. We too have built up a coalition of allies to defend ourselves against an aggressive neighbor. Yet, you refuse to believe us or even give us a fair hearing. Very well then, let me warn you, whoever they are who has lied to you about us, they have not just been deceiving you about our relationships with our neighbors. They have deceived you about our military capabilities as well. We foiled your attempt to close the wormhole, and if you try to take this system, we will stop you here as well. Turn around now or you will lose your entire fleet.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that diplomatic, Rear Admiral,” Smirnov said with a chuckle.

“Was it wise telling him we know about their ability to close the wormhole?” Bianco asked.

“It has been weeks since Somerville’s duel with the Eaglaton ships; by now, I am sure Lvant is aware of what happened,” Salamanca replied. “However, he couldn’t have known we already knew. Maybe we can slip a little doubt into the back of his mind.”

It took half an hour for Salamanca’s response to reach Lvant, and then another half an hour for Lvant to reply. “Very well, Admiral, you have made your choice. I will not make another offer; however, we will accept any of your ships that choose to surrender during the fighting. Perhaps you will surrender to me yet.”

“The Protectorate fleet is starting to move into the inner system,” Hunt called out within seconds of the message ending.

Then it begins, Salamanca said to himself. And now you are going to see what a system designed to repel a Karacknid battlefleet can do, Salamanca thought towards Lvant. Of course, Bastion’s defenses were designed to work in conjunction with a fleet of over five thousand warships, not seventeen hundred. The thinking had been that if the Karacknids penetrated as far as Bastion, Conclave fleets and reinforcements from Earth would have had time to reach the world. Though that was not to be the case now, Salamanca doubted the Protectorate, as capable as they had showed themselves to be, were just as deadly as the Karacknids. And so we are going to make you bleed. Salamanca didn’t know if he could ultimately hold against six thousand Protectorate ships, but he was certain his defenses and his ships would give a good account of themselves. And help is on its way, he reassured himself.

Chapter 29

In the wrong hands, even honor can be a vice.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

PS Righteousness

Admiral Lvant listened to the Human commander’s response, silently keeping his emotions in check. Inside, he seethed. It was almost blasphemous for the Human to claim his civilization was like the Eaglatons. It will almost be a pleasure conquering them, Lvant thought to himself, though he knew his supervisors from the Eaglaton Naval Academy wouldn’t be pleased. Hating one’s enemy was not supposed to be the Eaglaton way. As far as Lvant could tell, that was true. However, his own people weren’t quite built like that. It won’t go in any of my reports, but it is going to be satisfying to put an end to these Humans’ attempt to build an Empire out of other sentient species’ worlds.

“I will record one final message,” Lvant said when the Human was done. When his command chair’s COM unit began to record, he put a stern expression on his face. “Very well, Admiral, you have made your choice. I will not make another offer; however, we will accept any of your ships that choose to surrender during the fighting. Perhaps you will surrender to me yet.” Though he didn’t particularly desire to accept the surrender of any of the Human ships, Lvant knew his Eaglaton superiors would expect it. He was already taking quite the liberty in beginning the long-planned offensive ahead of schedule. He didn’t want to anger Vice Admiral Reverus or the others any more than he likely already had.

As his eyes returned to the holo display, one of the two fleets that had tried to intercept his initial fleet regained his attention. His officers had already determined that the ships were of a different design than the Human ones. According to the data the Eaglatons had provided, they were Gramrian warships, members of what had once been the Conclave alliance of species before the Humans had conquered them. Their presence was a mystery. Lvant hadn’t expected to encounter any Conclave warships in the Bastion system. The intelligence he had suggested the Humans had them all deployed along their border with the Karacknid Empire, forcing their slaves to fight for them. “Open a wide-range laser COM towards fleet Alpha two,” he requested.

“Gramrian fleet,” Lvant said when the channel was open. “You have heard my message to the Human Admiral. The Eaglaton Protectorate has come to liberate your people. You no longer need to fight for the Humans. Join us, and you can return to your homeworld with our fleet as liberators.” With a gesture of his arm, Lvant ordered the transmission stopped. He didn’t know if the Gramrian ships were commanded by Gramrians or Humans, but it was as much their crew he was trying to speak with. Having two hundred ships desert Bastion’s defenders wouldn’t alter the balance of forces a great deal, but it would hurt the Humans, nonetheless.

It took eight minutes for his message to reach the retreating Gramrians. A reply came back immediately. “Admiral Lvant, you appear to be under some kind of delusion,” a very intimidating alien said. Though Lvant was used to interacting with the many other species within the Protectorate, he was still a little taken aback. The alien looked like something out of his childhood nightmares. “I am Admiral Shraw of the Gramrian Navy. I have commanded my species’ Navy for more than twenty years. In all that time, the Humans have been our friends and allies. I have personally fought alongside the Human Emperor against our greatest foe. An attack against them is an attack against us. You are a fool if you think we would abandon them. You come here claiming a wish to liberate us, but I see your real desire is to enslave. If you really have my species’ best interest at heart, then turn your fleet around immediately. Otherwise, prepare for a battle the likes of which you have never experienced before.”

Lvant couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. “He has to be a collaborator,” he said to his officers, his voice filling with anger. “Or the real commander of that fleet has a gun to his back.” Lvant’s muscles tightened in anger. That was exactly the kind of trick the Humans would pull. He had been warned many times over that the Humans were a very deceptive species. Lvant didn’t know where the Eaglatons had got all their intelligence from, but it had proved extremely reliable so far. Very well, he thought to himself, the crews of those ships have been warned. If they want to save themselves, they will have to throw off their masters. It had been the same with the Jarmsus. The war for their liberation had been fought before Lvant’s time, but he had studied it closely over the past year. It had taken more than two years for the Jarmsus people to begin to realize that the Eaglatons truly were liberators. Only then did they begin to revolt and throw off the shackles the Hew’pons had put on them. That had been the turning point in the war. With the forces the Eaglatons were gathering against the Humans, Lvant doubted this war would last even two years. One way or another, the Gramrians will see the truth though. And it begins today. “Take us in,” he ordered. “Deploy the scouting flotillas.”

As his fleet began to move, Lvant turned his attention to the rest of the Human defenses. Against his wishes, the muscles along his stomach tightened slightly. It was a formidable view. Not for the first time, Lvant was extremely glad he had been able to gather six thousand warships so quickly. This would be his first real experience of combat, never mind his first time commanding a fleet in action. But we have studied their defenses for more than a year, he reminded himself. And you know how to unlock them.

In front of him, the six positions dominated the tactical map of the system. The Humans had fortified all six of the systems’ inner planetary bodies. Hundreds of orbital battlestations and hangers dotted the five forts and Bastion itself. Between them, the long-range missiles the battlestations fired, and the quick response times of the fighters based at each allowed each position to support one another. For example, Lvant was sure that if he attacked the nearest fort right away, at least two of the others would be able to catch his fleet in a crossfire. If the Human fleet wasn’t present in the system, Lvant would have gone ahead with such an attack anyway. His numbers would be more than enough to overwhelm each fort one after the other, despite the crossfire.

Yet, the Human fleet added an extra element of danger. Currently, it was split up into several fleets, most stationed at one or other of the forts. Yet, if they wanted, they could all rally together to defend one fort, or to strike at his flank while he attacked a fort. It was an impressive defensive system. But with a weakness. Unless the Eaglaton intelligence was mistaken, there were several windows that opened each year where, due to the differing orbits of the inner system planets, one of the forts was exposed and isolated. The next window was just five days away. That was why Lvant was here. The Human Captain discovering his fleet at Farvul’vian had been a shock, but after having time to think through what the discovery meant, Lvant had known he had to act. The next window wouldn’t be open for another six months. By then, the Humans could have doubled or even tripled the number of ships they had defending Bastion. At that point, even Vice Admiral Reverus’ fleet might have struggled taking the system.

Which is why it is up to us, Lvant thought as his fleet slowly entered the Human system. All he had to do was destroy the fortifications, then he could fall back to reinforce the fleet that was keeping the Human’s wormhole closed and await Vice Admiral Reverus’ arrival, then the rest of the Conclave species’ territory could be liberated. Lvant’s jaw opened as he thought about the Human Admiral’s words. He could think his precious wormhole was open all he liked, but Lvant knew better. “Prepare the first probing assault,” he ordered. “We will attack fort one in two hours.” Lvant had just a couple of questions he needed answering with regard to exact capabilities of the Human defenses, and then he would be able to plan his main assault.

*

IS Hercules, 10th November 2509 AD, (four days later).

“Admiral, you better get to the bridge, it looks like another attack is starting,” Smirnov informed Salamanca from Hercules’ bridge.

The beeping of his COM unit had just woken Salamanca up. Smirnov’s words snapped his mind into focus. “On my way,” he replied as he jumped out of bed and looked around for his uniform. Donning it, he moved purposely through his quarters and towards Hercules’ bridge. If Lvant was about to launch another attack, it would be the third in four days. The previous three had been probing attacks, designed to test his defensive capabilities and tactics. Salamanca hated giving away anything to Lvant, but he had to react to each attack as if it was a serious attempt to destroy one of his forts, for it very well could be. “What have we got?” He asked as he stepped onto the bridge.

“The main bulk of the Protectorate fleet is moving towards Magellan,” Roche reported. “It looks like that is their target.”

Salamanca didn’t speak for several seconds as he sat in his command chair, and then stared up at the large holo map of the system. Five thousand Protectorate warships were moving towards Magellan in one group. Another five hundred were spread around the outer system, watching for hidden threats or trying to spy on Salamanca’s other forts. The rest of Lvant’s fleet was holding position near the shift passage they had appeared from. There were about five hundred ships there and over a thousand freighters. Since they had arrived, additional squadrons of freighters had been arriving, and Lvant’s ships took regular turns docking with them, presumably to refuel.

Salamanca desperately wished he could reach out and strike at them, yet there was no way he could get there without Lvant’s fleet intercepting him. All he could do was oppose Lvant every time the Protectorate fleet made a move. “Here is the plan,” he said once he was sure he had a grasp of what Lvant was doing. “I want half of Constellation’s fighters to watch from the hangers and to support Magellan. Have Admiral Shraw and Commodore Nixon’s fleets break orbit and join us. We will set course for these coordinates.”

As he spoke, Salamanca tapped a set of coordinates into his command chair. Moving to them would put his fleet close enough to come to Magellan’s aid if Lvant’s attack proved serious. However Salamanca didn’t want to fully commit his main fleet just yet. If Lvant’s attack was a feint and Salamanca engaged it, Lvant could split his force so that part engaged Salamanca’s fleet, while the rest of Lvant’s force assaulted one of the other forts. “Have Wing Commander Killian’s fighters slow launch and move to these coordinates as well,” Salamanca added as another idea came to him. Killian’s fighters were based out of Orion fort. It was the furthest from Magellan, and it was possible Lvant wasn’t watching it as closely as he should.

Within seconds, Hercules’ gravimetric array began to send out pulses throughout the system. That was at least one area where Salamanca appeared to have the advantage. The gravimetric COM allowed him to communicate in real time with all of his forces distributed throughout the system, albeit in relatively simple terms. As yet, the Protectorate fleet had not displayed any such capabilities. Salamanca was hoping it would allow him to outmaneuver Lvant sooner or later. However, the Protectorate Admiral had been very careful to keep his main fleet close to one another to avoid becoming isolated.

As Salamanca’s fleet moved forward, events played out similar to the Protectorate’s three previous attacks. First, Lvant moved his fleet close to Magellan, but still well away from the point the fort’s long-range mark X missiles could reach them. So far, Salamanca hadn’t used his mark X at their maximum range, he was holding that exact piece of information back, but Lvant had figured out his fleet was safe at the range it came to a halt, relative to Magellan.

Then, seven hundred ships moved forward towards Magellan. They were accompanied by over two thousand fighters. Their presence in such numbers was an unpleasant discovery. So far, Lvant had only used the fighters to intercept incoming missiles, but they were a serious threat. At any moment, they could turn and dive towards Magellan. Salamanca hadn’t yet seen what kind of offensive weapons they had, but he suspected they’d be able to do a heck of a lot of damage. Magellan’s five hundred fighters and the two hundred Imperial warships reinforcing the fort would be able to blunt their attack some, but not entirely.

“Eighty percent maximum range,” Salamanca ordered. Again, Hercules’ gravimetric COM began to send out pulses.

As ordered, Constellation’s battlestations opened fire with their mark X missiles when the Protectorate fleet came into range. Five minutes later and Magellan’s battle stations fired their own salvo to coordinate with Constellation. Relatively speaking, the mark X missiles were massive. Fifteen times the size of a standard mark VIII, nearly a third of their mass was fuel. It gave them a significant range. As in the previous engagements, two groups of Protectorate fighters broke away from the seven hundred ships approaching Magellan. Moving onto an intercept course for the mark X salvos, they accelerated towards them.

Detecting their approach, after a flight time of twenty minutes, the mark Xs cut their engines and released their payloads. Each mark X carried five mark VII missiles and an infiltrator missile. Designed after the old Royal Space Navy penetrator missiles, the infiltrators were dedicated ECM missiles that helped the relatively small number of standard missiles each fort could deliver with its mark Xs. Of course, relative was the key word. Once the mark Xs finished disgorging their payloads, two groups of over three thousand missiles were headed towards the Protectorate fleet. If Lvant’s ships would only come close enough, the fleet elements Salamanca had defending Magellan could triple that number. Even so, being able to hurl three thousand missiles at an enemy fleet when they couldn’t fire a single shot in return was not bad. Though the mark Xs had been designed to hinder a Karacknid assault, Salamanca had no qualms using them against Lvant’s forces.

The Protectorate fleet, having faced a number of mark X salvos before, frustratingly, dealt with them relatively easily. Their fighters intercepted almost a third of them, then the seven hundred ships’ point defenses destroyed many more. A number did break through the defensive fire to release their anti-matter into the midst of the Protectorate fleet. At least seven ships appeared to be destroyed or crippled. A second salvo took nine more. Then, the Protectorate ships began to change course. Salamanca nodded when he saw it. Like the previous attacks, they were pulling up and away from Magellan. Their course would bring them just within extreme missile range. Salamanca toyed with the idea of ordering Magellan’s ships to break orbit and move out to where they could fire their own salvo. Yet, he eyed the remaining Protectorate fighters warily. There were still enough of them staying close to the seven hundred Protectorate ships to charge Magellan’s’ ships if they left the relative safety of the orbital battlestations.

“It is another ruse, then,” Smirnov commented. “They mean to run past the fort, rather than engage it head on.”

“It appears that way,” Salamanca replied. His fleet was now in position where it could rush to Magellan’s aid if Lvant tried to rush the fort with the rest of his fleet. But unless Lvant committed himself, Salamanca had to keep his fleet ready to protect the other forts. Magellan would have to deal with the Protectorate salvo by themselves.

“The Protectorate fleet is slowing its turn,” Lieutenant Musalla said hastily. “They’re not going to pull away from Magellan just as quickly as I thought.”

Salamanca understood Musalla’s momentary confusion. As the holo display updated to try and project the seven hundred Protectorate ships’ course, it now looked like they would be able to fire off two salvos at Magellan. Yet, in return, both forts would be able to fire one additional salvo as they retreated, and even Capricornus would be able to add her fire for one salvo. Two thoughts came to Salamanca at once. First, he finally felt he had an idea of what Lvant was planning with his current probing attack. And he knew how he might counter it. Secondly, and far more concerningly, he started to get a sinking feeling. In each of the previous probing attacks, the Protectorate fleet had fired just one salvo. That had been more than enough to test each forts’ defenses.

In Salamanca’s mind, there was only one reason why they would fire two this time; Lvant knew. Somehow, despite Salamanca’s best efforts to keep the maximum range of his mark Xs a secret, Lvant knew the fort system’s weakness. And the next underlap is tomorrow, Salamanca thought. Lvant wanted to really test Magellan’s defenses because he was planning a full assault on the fort. Desperately, Salamanca began to rack his brain for possible strategies to defend the fort. He had a number of ideas he had been playing around with since first being assigned to the system, for the weakness had always been known. Stop it, he told himself. You have a battle right in front of you to fight. You have to worry about Magellan later.

“Warmup the gravimetric COM,” he requested after giving himself a second to collect his thoughts. He still had an idea how to counter Lvant’s current moves. “I have new orders for Wing Commander Killian’s fighters. They may just see some action after all.” When Bianco looked up from her console to tell him she was ready to send his orders, he explained what he wanted. Then, he sat back in his command chair to watch events unfold. Though his mind kept trying to pull him back to worrying about Magellan, he forced himself to stay focused. It was still quite possible Lvant could commit his full fleet here and now.

Initially, things played out as Salamanca expected. The Protectorate fleet continued its probing attack, firing two salvos at Magellan. In return, the fort fired another salvo of its mark X. Protectorate fighters intercepted the Imperial missiles, blunting much of their strength, though a handful of missiles once again managed to get close enough to detonate and bathe several Protectorate ships in anti-matter. The two Protectorate missiles salvos also caused some damage themselves. All their missiles were aimed at the large battlestations which were unable to carry out evasive maneuvers. That meant the handful of enemy missiles that avoided their defensive fire and detonated to release their grazer laser beam were all able to score hits. No battlestations were destroyed, but Salamanca was sure at least a couple had suffered crippling damage. Immediately, he ordered Bianco to send word for Magellan’s defenders to do everything that could be humanly done to get them operational again. He feared they would be needed again very soon.

As the Protectorate fleet pulled up and away from Magellan, Constellation and Magellan were able to fire two more salvos after them. The second salvo was joined by a salvo from Capricornus. The first did little damage, as once again fighters intercepted many of the missiles. For the second, however, the Protectorate didn’t have enough fighters left in position to intercept all three groups of mark Xs. It was then that Lvant ordered more fighters to leave his main fleet to come to his probing fleet’s aid. Salamanca smiled when he saw an additional one hundred and fifty fighters were moving to intercept the missiles from Capricornus. He had guessed right. Lvant was still keeping the majority of his fighter strength in reserve in case Salamanca tried to rush his main fleet or sneak a strike against his freighters. “Inform Killian I want a slashing attack,” Salamanca said. “That should be enough. He is to wait until the last moment.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Bianco responded.

Ten minutes later, twelve before the Protectorate fighters would engage Capricornus’ missiles, Killian’s fighters sprung to life. Having launched from their hangers more than two hours ago without using their launch tubes, they had been slowly cruising in stealth to their current location. Now their engines roared to full power as they angled right for the Protectorate fighters. Though Killian’s force was outnumbered, it was only by twenty fighters. That meant the enemy commander had a choice. Either he could abandon his mission and turn and engage Killian’s fighters to try and limit the losses he might take, or ignore Killian’s force to focus on Capricornus’ missiles and suffer heavily. Salamanca knew what order he would give in the same circumstances; the seven hundred ships should be the priority. Yet, as he watched, half of the enemy fighters started to turn to face Killian’s force. Salamanca nodded in respect when Killian’s fighters didn’t respond. They knew what their priority was.

In two quick engagements, each group of fighters faced off against one another. First, half of the Protectorate fighters came slashing in through the midst of Killian’s formation. Killian’s Hellcats unleased hundreds of lasers whilst the Protectorate fighters appeared to fire plasma bolts. Thirty of Killian’s fighters were lost whilst about half that number of Protectorate fighters were blown apart as well. Next, Killian engaged the Protectorate fighters still angling towards Capricornus’ missiles salvo. At extreme range, they fired their anti-fighter missiles. Then they slashed through the Protectorate fighter’s formation. The count on Hercules’ holo plot quickly rose to forty-three enemy fighters destroyed from the second Protectorate group. Suddenly, there were less than thirty of the original one hundred and fifty fighters still able to intercept Capricornus’ missile salvo.

The result was inevitable. The Protectorate probing fleet, faced with three salvos of mark Xs coming from three different angles, was badly hurt. At least sixty missiles made it into attack range, and when the anti-matter receded, thirty-seven enemy ships were either gone or falling out of formation, badly crippled. Smirnov, Bianco, and the rest of Salamanca’s staff officers turned to him with smiles and grins. More than one let out a grunt or half-shout of satisfaction. This was the first time they had been able to really hurt Lvant’s fleet. When they saw the look on their commander’s face, their smiles vanished. When he explained to them his fear, their expressions changed to match his own. For they quickly understood that unless they could find a way to divert what Salamanca feared Lvant was planning for Magellan in just twenty-four hours, they were about to suffer a much more serious defeat.

Chapter 30

One of the key lessons from the Inter War Period that every naval cadet should take away is this; one can never be too prepared. After the Empire won its two-decade respite from the Karacknids, they went to great lengths to be ready to face their old foe once again, only to find themselves fighting on two additional fronts before the Karacknid Civil War even ended, and it didn’t stop there.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Hercules, 11th November 2509 AD, (one day later).

No one was surprised when alarms announced the Protectorate fleet was on the move just one hour before Magellan fort’s orbital path took it outside the range of Constellation’s mark X missiles. Salamanca had his fleet and Magellan’s defenders prepped and ready; at least, as ready as they could be. As five thousand, two hundred Protectorate warships once again moved towards Magellan, Salamanca couldn’t help feeling nervous. He knew his enemy had the upper hand. But we have a good plan, he encouraged himself. After driving off yesterday’s probing attack, he had held a holo conference with all his senior commanders. They were as ready as they were going to be. Taking a deep breath, Salamanca summoned the mental strength he knew he would need for the coming battle. Then, he began to give orders, “Begin slow-launching all the fighters assigned to defend Magellan. Start moving us towards the same coordinates as yesterday. Have Admiral Shraw’s and Commodore Jackson’s squadrons break orbit and prepare to rendezvous with us.”

“Aye, Rear Admiral,” Bianco said loudly, projecting confidence to the rest of Salamanca’s staff officers.

As the different elements in his plan started moving, Salamanca tried to picture what Lvant would think. Unless there were any stealth drones his forces hadn’t managed to find, the slow-launched fighters from all the other forts wouldn’t be detected for some time. Hercules and the three hundred and fifty ships in formation around her would look like they were moving to support Magellan in case Lvant’s attack turned out to be more than a probing attack, just like they had done the day before. The movement of Shraw’s and Jackson’s squadrons was different. But you are attacking the same fort for a second day in a row, you have to expect us to be a little more suspicious this time, Salamanca thought towards Lvant. For as long as possible, he wanted Lvant to assume Shraw and Jackson were moving to support Magellan. In reality, Salamanca knew he could issue no such orders to the two squadrons, for if Lvant committed his full force against the fort, it would most certainly fall. Even if Salamanca diverted all his ships there, it would only delay the inevitable and lose him his entire force. No, the only way he could save Magellan was to convince Lvant not to launch his main assault. “Are we ready?” he asked as he looked from Bianco to Smirnov.

“Hercules is ready to do your bidding, Admiral,” Smirnov replied firmly.

“Every fleet element has reported in, Admiral, they are all in place and awaiting your orders,” Bianco added.

“Then it is over to Lvant,” Salamanca said as he turned from his officers to the holo display. “Start the gravimetric COM. Let’s let Lvant think we have as many tricks up our sleeves as possible.” Seconds later, the gravimetric COM began to pulse. Though it only sent gibberish out across the system, Lvant nonetheless reacted almost immediately. Sixty ships in groups of four or five broke away from his fleet and began to fan out, clearly looking for surprises. Salamanca pressed his lips together. They were sixty less ships Magellan would have to worry about.

“Eight hundred Protectorate ships are breaking ahead of their main fleet,” Musalla reported. “It looks similar to their last probing attack.”

Salamanca nodded. Lvant wanted him to think it was just that, another probing attack. His eyes narrowed. If Lvant knew Magellan was out of support range of Constellation’s battlestations, then he also knew that fact would soon be obvious to everyone in the system. For when Magellan opened fire and Constellation didn’t join in, it would be clear the fort was isolated. That being the case, there was no need for Lvant’s ruse to last long. “They are going to push hard at Magellan as soon as the fighting begins,” he informed his staff officers. “It’s now or never. Have Shraw and Jackson increase their acceleration rates to join us as quickly as they can. Alter our heading, begin operation Bolting Horse.”

“At once, Admiral,” Roche responded.

Immediately, Hercules’ impulse engines boosted to full thrust. Maneuvering thrusters turned her nose away from Magellan. Instead, she settled onto a course towards the outer system, directly for the thousand strong fleet of Protectorate supply freighters. Shraw’s and Jackson’s squadrons, totaling another three hundred ships, moved onto courses that would see them rendezvous with Hercules. A thousand fighters also came out of stealth and moved to join Hercules as well.

As soon as his different fleet elements were locked into their courses, Salamanca turned back to the Protectorate fleet. Its probing attack fleet was still moving towards Magellan. The rest of Lvant’s ships were holding back, as they had done before. The decision is yours, he thought towards Lvant. The Protectorate supply freighters were currently being defended by three hundred warships. Possibly, another fifty ships currently on scouting duty could rush to aid them as well. With five hundred and fifty warships, a thousand fighters in space and another five hundred still in the carriers in close formation with Hercules, Salamanca had enough firepower to blow the supply freighters and their escorts to pieces. By committing himself to attacking Magellan, Lvant had opened a narrow door to the outer system for Salamanca to slip his force through. If he wanted, Lvant could slam it shut, but he would have to divert ships away from Magellan. He could either save his supplies or attack Magellan with his full force, but Salamanca had made sure he couldn’t do both.

“The main Protectorate fleet is moving! It’s splitting up!” Lieutenant Hunt called from his sensor console.

Salamanca held his breath as he waited to see just what Lvant was doing. A thousand, he thought as the smaller of the two new groups of ships turned to try and head off his force. Mentally, he weighted up his fleet’s chances. If he could, he really wanted to hit the Protectorate supplies. Even if he lost Magellan, it would be a fair trade. Yet, a thousand ships was a sizable force, and Salamanca was sure the supply freighters escorts would come and join the battle as well.

“Fighter launches,” Musalla reported. “Five hundred and counting.”

Quickly, the number rose to two thousand. Within minutes, they formed up and turned to follow the thousand warships that were trying to intercept Hercules. “They mean business,” Smirnov commented.

Salamanca shook his head in disappointment. “We can’t fight that many.” Just like that, attacking the Protectorate supplies was out of the question. “We will keep up the ruse for as long as it is safe. Bianco, work out when we will need to reverse course. We’re not turning back a moment before then, but equally, we’re not risking our ships.” As important as Magellan fort was, it wasn’t Bastion itself. Salamanca needed his main force intact for when the Protectorate fleet made its final move against the colony.

“Understood, Admiral, working out our new course now,” Bianco replied.

Salamanca nodded to her and then turned his mind back to Magellan. The rest of Lvant’s force was surging ahead to join its probing fleet. The pretense was over. The main attack was about to begin. Salamanca felt all but helpless now. He had risked all he could to help the fort; now it was over to their defenders. At least we have drawn away a lot of their fighters, he consoled himself. “Inform our Wing Commanders they can come out of stealth as soon as the first salvos are fired.”

“Yes, Sir,” Musalla responded.

It wasn’t long before Magellan’s battlestations were able to open fire. As soon as they did, three thousand fighters lit off their engines and raced towards the fort. Coming from each of the other forts, they approached from different angles, but the holo map showed they would all arrive before the Protectorates reached their maximum missile range. Over the course of thirty-six minutes, the battlestations hurled three salvos at the Protectorate fleet. The first hit the enemy probing fleet. Nine ships were destroyed. By the time the second salvo reached their targets, Lvant’s main force had reinforced the probing fleet. Their point defenses destroyed all but one of the anti-matter missiles. Amazingly, it managed to score a direct hit on an enemy battlecruiser, taking it out of the fight. The third salvo wasn’t so lucky. No missiles got through the Protectorate’s defensive fire. Without additional salvos coming from the other forts on different vectors, Magellan’s battlestations were all but useless against Lvant’s numbers.

As a result, Salamanca wasn’t surprised to see Commodore Heung begin to move his one hundred and fifty ships out of orbit towards Lvant’s ships. He needed to add the missiles from his squadron to the battlestations’ salvos if they were to hurt the Protectorate fleet. And he needs to hurt them quickly, or they will pulverize Magellan’s battlestations, Salamanca knew.

*

IS Mischief

Commodore Heung’s feet bobbed up and down. He had only been a Third Lieutenant in the Karacknid War and had seen little real action. That was about to change. He knew what he was doing was crazy. With just one hundred and fifty ships, he was closing with an enemy fleet nearly thirty times his strength. It was the biggest gamble of his life. Yet, it was one he had to take. If he didn’t, Magellan would be lost. “Fire as soon as we enter range,” Heung ordered.

Before his ships could do so, however, the Protectorate opened fire first. In the space of a single second, the gravimetric plot registered fifty thousand new contacts. As they moved towards Magellan, they began to split up, twenty thousand angled towards Heung’s squadron, the rest towards the fort. “Send the fighters forward, they are to focus on the missiles targeting us,” Heung instructed his Chief of Staff.

Moments later, three thousand six hundred fighters moved away from Magellan and soon surged past Heung’s ships. They then tore into the Protectorate missiles. Most scored one or more hits with their laser cannons. Within seconds, however, the missiles roared past them. “The freighters,” Heung ordered. From just behind his ships, one hundred freighters increased their acceleration rates and fell into formation amongst Heung’s squadron. They had arrived at Magellan nine hours ago. Disguised as a resupply and repair convoy from Bastion, they were really freighters Salamanca had covered with PD lasers and plasma cannons. Their addition to his squadron doubled the strength of Heung’s point defenses. Even so, as eleven thousand missiles continued to home on his ships, he knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

Before his defenses opened fire, however, Heung at least got to see his squadron fire their own missiles. Then explosions filled the holo display as thousands of Protectorate missiles were taken out. The explosions came closer and closer to Mischief. Then the remaining Protectorate missiles detonated and sent their destructive power towards Heung’s squadron in the form of grazer beams. Explosions rippled up and down Heung’s ships. Mischief shook as a grazer beam penetrated her shields and burnt a gash along her hull several compartments deep.

“We’re all right,” a Lieutenant called out. “All main systems are still fully functional, though we are venting atmosphere.”

Heung left Mischief to her Captain to worry about. “Our fleet?” he asked his Chief of Staff.

“Nine warships are not reporting in,” she answered. “At least seven more reporting damage. About a third of the freighters are gone.”

“Get the warships back in the fight as soon as possible,” he ordered. Then he began to reorganize his fleet’s formation to prepare themselves for the next salvo. He only paused long enough to watch his first salvo join with the fourth from the battlestations, and slam into the Protectorate fleet. He clenched a fist in approval when fourteen enemy ships were completely negated by the anti-matter. Others dropped out of formation as they took serious damage. Then his ships were firing again.

“The Protectorate fleet isn’t slowing,” Heung’s tactical officer called out. “Look.”

Heung frowned as soon as he saw it. Then his heart grew cold. Salamanca had been right. From Captain Somerville’s report of his engagement with the Eaglaton cruisers, they knew the Eaglatons had more powerful short-range missiles. It seemed the other ships from their Protectorate had them as well. That was the only reason the Protectorate ships would come close enough for Heung’s ships to be able to use their mark VIII missiles. “Reverse course!” Heung ordered. “Take us back to the fort. We will join our defenses to theirs.” Though it looked like a reprieve on the face of it, for Magellan’s defenses were far stronger than Heung’s fleet, if the Protectorates close range missiles were as powerful as Somerville reported, it would be worse for Magellan’s defense in the long run.

Right now, however, Heung’s ships had to protect themselves from another enemy salvo. Once again, more of his ships were blasted apart by the missiles that got through the defensive fire. After seeing to his fleet, Heung spared a glance at Magellan. Several battlestations looked like they had taken serious damage, but otherwise, the fort was holding its own. Maybe we can do this, Heung thought. Magellan had the point defensive capabilities of an Imperial fleet of over three thousand ships. As his ships fell back into orbit with the battlestations, they were boosted further, and with the swarm of fighters thinning out the Protectorate missile numbers, all they had to do was hold the position and keep whittling away at Lvant’s fleet.

For the next two salvos, it appeared that they were winning. Several battlestations were further damaged, and Heung lost two more ships. But they gave as good as they got, and managed to take sixteen enemy ships out of the fight. Things changed when the next enemy salvo was launched. Right away, Mischief’s sensors detected a difference in the missiles. Their acceleration rates were higher, and they were giving out higher levels of ECM. They had to run the gauntlet of Magellan’s fighter cover, but then, just before entering range of the fort’s point defenses, the remaining missiles broke apart and released ten smaller missiles.

As they came crashing into Magellan’s defensive fire, it was instantly clear they were harder to hit. The one saving grace was that the missiles had to close to point-blank range to score direct hits. Even so, many managed to do so. Small explosions erupted right across Magellan’s orbitals. The small missiles, when they detonated, burned with an intense heat that matched that of a plasma bolt. Mercifully, Mischief was spared, but many other of Heung’s ships suffered hits and the larger battlestations fared even worse.

Report after report reached Heung of ships that were crippled, or stations that had lost numerous missile ports. Thankfully, the large, sturdily built, heavily armored stations all held together. But it was only a matter of time before the small warheads burnt their way through to vital systems.

“Commodore, they are launching fighters,” a sensor officer reported, her voice full of fear.

Heung felt the same fear grip him as he turned his attention back to the Protectorate fleet. Hundreds of fighters were being disgorged by the carriers at the back of the Protectorate fleet. Four thousand formed up and began to move towards Magellan. Heung knew their target. Lvant wanted to clear the Imperial fighters out of the way for his more powerful short-range missiles. Then he would be able to batter Magellan’s battlestations with ease. “Instruct the Wing Commanders they are clear to defend themselves,” Heung ordered.

He couldn’t help but glance at Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleet. Its position was being projected by a secondary holo display as it led a portion of Lvant’s fleet away from Magellan. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hercules’ gravimetric COM wasn’t sending out any messages. Heung had half-expected Salamanca to send an order for the fighters to pull back. They were a critical component in Salamanca’s fleet after all; if they were all lost now, they would not be available to defend Bastion itself. He still thinks we have a chance, Heung thought, filling himself with hope. “And instruct the Wing Commanders, I expect them to kick some Protectorate butt,” he added, hoping to encourage the fighter pilots as well.

“I’ll let them know,” Heung’s COM officer replied enthusiastically.

Just six minutes later, the two groups of fighters crashed into one another. Anti-fighter missiles were flung in all directions. They were quickly followed up by laser beams and plasma bolts. Fighters from both sides were taken out. Then a general melee broke out as the engagement degenerated into individual squadrons and fighters dueling with one another. There were far too many explosions and laser beams being thrown around for Mischief’s sensors to make out what was happening.

“They are breaking away!” a sensor officer called out. “The Protectorate fighters are breaking away!”

Heung punched a fist in the air along with several of his officers. Though they had started the engagement with the numerical advantage, as they pulled away, the remaining forces looked about even. For a second, Heung thought the Imperial fighters were going to try and follow, but then they began to reform into their squadrons and turned towards Magellan. “Wing Commander Jessop has sent a message Commodore,” a COM officer reported. “Most of their fighters are running low on fuel. Five hundred can land on Magellan’s hangers, but the rest need to return to their forts to refuel.”

Heung’s sense of victory evaporated. The Imperial fighters had killed six hundred enemy fighters while just losing three hundred and fifty of their own. Yet, the Protectorate fighters had accomplished what they had set out to do. Magellan had lost its fighter cover. Heung swallowed hard as he stared at the next Protectorate salvo. It was racing in behind the retreating Imperial fighters. None of the missiles were going to be taken out by Jessop’s force, which meant they would all be able to release their ten smaller missiles. We’re going to be overrun, Heung realized. It wouldn’t be by the first salvo, but it was coming. “Acknowledge Jessop. Ask her to detach any fighters that have enough fuel to engage this next salvo to do so before the return to their forts. Inform her taking out even a single missile will help.”

“Message sent, Commodore,” a sensor officer replied moments later. On the holo display, three hundred and sixty fighters decelerated and turned to engage the incoming missiles. They did well and destroyed over four hundred. Yet, it made hardly a dent on the enemy’s numbers.

“Open a general COM channel to the squadron and Magellan’s defenders,” Heung requested.

“It’s open, Commodore,” Mischief’s COM officer replied.

“This is it, people,” he said to his command. “Our fort will stand or fall depending on how we handle these next salvos. Do everything in your power to take out these missiles. And let’s hurt the Protectorate fleet. We are not going to make this easy for them. That is an order.”

Though his officers had little time to process his words, as defensive fire reached out towards incoming missiles, Heung felt like it was being done so with more vigor. Nevertheless, there was only so much Human determination could accomplish against so many missiles. When the Protectorate missiles released their smaller warheads, Mischief’s sensors detected almost five hundred thousand enemy missiles. They were packed so densely that flack cannon rounds and arc bolts took out dozens at a time. Even so, they easily overwhelmed Magellan’s defenses. Thousands of missiles raced in towards warships, freighters, battlestations, and defense satellites. The ships and satellites could carry out evasive manures and so managed to dodge many that were targeted at them. The far larger battlestations couldn’t. Most of the missiles also specifically targeted them.

In quick succession, one, then a second, and then a third shockwave reverberated through Mischief’s bridge. If they had been thermonuclear missiles, Heung knew his battleship would have been ripped apart. Yet, the lights on the bridge remained on. Damage alarms sounded all around him. Sensing the ship was still largely intact, he tried to pull up what the sensors were picking up of the rest of Magellan’s’ defenses. What he saw made him gasp. It looked like almost all of Magellan’s battlestations were on fire. Warships and freighters were also being sucked down into the rocky world’s gravity well. Most were barely recognizable beyond the largest of hull sections that were still intact. Over the course of a minute, many of the fires on the battlestations burnt themselves out.

Yet, what remained gave Heung little hope. Of the eighty massive battlestations that had started the battle, five were gone. The rest had all taken damage of one kind or another. Another three or four salvos like this, and they will be in real trouble, Heung guessed. His eyes swung to the Protectorate fleet. The data indicated they had lost another thirty-three or thirty-four ships. The more powerful VIII missiles were causing increased damage, yet it was still a pitiful number compared to what his forces were losing. We cannot hold, Heung admitted to himself. Not without the fighters providing cover. Though Salamanca had briefed Heung on exactly what he had expected, shame still filled him as he turned to his COM officer. “Open a laser COM channel towards Hercules,” he requested. He let out a slow breath when it was opened. “Rear Admiral, I am afraid I have to report we can no longer hold Magellan. Their short-range missiles are just too powerful. Requesting permission to pull my fleet and fighter elements out while the battlestations can still give us cover?”

*

IS Hercules.

Salamanca had known the fort was lost the second Heung had lost this fighter cover. Yet, when the transmission from Mischief reached Hercules, he hesitated. The loss of Magellan would allow the unwinding of Bastion’s entire defensive network. If he gave the order and no help came, it was only a matter of time until he lost the colony. He was conflicted. He desperately didn’t want to be the one who lost an entire system to Humanity’s enemies. But they have done all they can, he knew. And you cannot let them die for nothing. He took a deep breath. “Reply to Commodore Heung. Inform him he has permission to retreat to Orion fort. Tell his squadron they have fought well. Have the battlestations put into automatic mode and evacuate their crews.”

“Transmitting your orders now,” Bianco said in a very somber tone.

The rest of Hercules bridge fell quiet. They all knew what Magellan’s fall meant. Over the next hour, the mood only darkened as Salamanca and his offers watched Heung’s retreat. Lvant aimed one full salvo at the retreating ships. The battlestations managed to destroy many of the missiles as they passed. Yet, about thirty of Heung’s warships and freighters were destroyed as they fled. His fleet made it to Orion with just under half the ships he had begun the battle with. When they were out of range, Lvant turned his attention to finishing off Magellan’s defenses. It took four full salvos to silence the final battlestations. Yet, it cost Lvant just one further ship, for without Heung’s ships, the battlestations didn’t have the firepower to penetrate the Protectorate’s fleets defensive fire but for one lucky hit.

As soon as the final battlestations were blown apart, the Protectorate fleet turned around and slowly began to move back towards the outer system. The ships pursuing Hercules also slowed and set course for the fleet of supply freighters. They had done what they had come to do. Magellan fort was destroyed, the rocky world it had been built in orbit around was worthless to Lvant. “Take us back towards Bastion,” Salamanca ordered in a hushed tone. Full of fear, he turned his gaze to Orion. Currently, Gemini’s missiles had the range to protect Orion. But in three days, the moon Orion was built around would pass beyond the range of Gemini. She should have then fallen under the protection of Magellan battlestations, but that was now no longer the case. Salamanca knew where Lvant’s next blow would fall. Then after Orion, Gemini and Constellation would both be isolated within a month. All Lvant had to do was take out one of them and then a path would be open to take Capricornus and then Bastion itself. It was now all only a matter of time. Come on, Salamanca thought towards the reinforcements coming from Conclave space or the Gift. Where are you?

Chapter 31

Once it was the strength of Imperial Fleet that spread the Empire’s influence across the galaxy. Today our merchant marine has almost as much influence. The Gift wormholes initially allowed us to dominate intergalactic trade routes, the discovery of the Sun Gates cemented our position.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD. 

IS Pendant, 11th November 2509 AD, (same time).

A flicker from the large viewing port caused Jonathan to stop his pacing. Squinting his eyes, he peered out the port towards the Gift. There was nothing to see, however. With a sigh, he began walking back-and-forth across the length of the observation blister once more. Pendant had reached the Gift two days ago. Throughout the journey from Earth and during the last two days, he had spent most of his time either in his quarters or where he was now. Pendant’s Captain had offered him the use of her office, but he hadn’t wanted to be in her way. He also avoided the officers’ quarters as much as possible.  The cruiser’s officers had either wanted to grill him about the Protectorate and Achilles’ loss, or had kept their distance, afraid of the Imperial heir. He had tried to distract himself by reading files on Becket’s fleet, her command staff and Becket herself, but nothing had helped to pass the time any quicker.

Come on, he thought towards Becket. He couldn’t help feeling Salamanca needed them. Every hour that passed was one more hour Lvant had to move his fleet to Bastion and attack the colony, or even worse, bring his fleet to the Bastion side of the wormhole and seal it again. His father had been certain Becket would make straight for the Gift when she first heard about the threat to the Protectorate posed. Yet, there was still no sign of her.

Another flicker made Jonathan stop again. He furrowed his brow as he struggled to see anything. But then more flickers appeared. He wasn’t imagining it this time. Ships were jumping out of shift space. Many ships! At once he grabbed his datapad and ran out of the observation blister. He tapped his COM unit as he moved, “Heaton, she’s here. Bring my stuff and meet me at the shuttle bay.”

“At once,” his steward responded. Along with Becca and her Imperial Guard Marines, he hadn’t been able to shake Heaton. Outwardly, Jonathan had tried to convince his mother he didn’t need a steward while serving as an attached officer to an Admiral’s command staff. Yet, she had insisted. Deep down, Jonathan had to admit to himself that he was growing accustomed to being looked after by Heaton. Yet, he didn’t like the look it gave him. None of Becket’s other officers would have stewards, and he hated anything that smelt of favoritism.

Unsurprisingly, when Jonathan reached the shuttle bay, Becca was already there along with her squad. Each had a single bag strapped over their backs. They were standing beside several crates that held most of Jonathan’s possessions. As Jonathan moved to the shuttle. Heaton appeared through another hatch carrying Jonathan’s final things. “We are good to go, Captain,” Becca said as she gave him a grin.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “We’re going into a war zone; you don’t need to sound so excited.”

Becca ignored his comment. “Have you said goodbye to Captain Hancock? It would be rude to leave without thanking him.”

Jonathan frowned at Becca. Since meeting his mother, she had become even more bossy. “I said my goodbyes this morning when we had breakfast together,” he told her. “Hancock knows Becket will want to see me right away. He will understand. Now, let’s get on board.”

“Well, you heard the man,” Becca said as she turned to her Marines. “Let’s get going.”

At once, the marines moved to the crates, picked them up with ease and ascended the nearest shuttle’s access ramp. Within a minute, they were in space hurtling towards Trident. To Jonathan’s surprise, when the shuttle landed half an hour later, Admiral Becket and her Chief of Staff were waiting for him as he stepped off the shuttle. Immediately, he snapped to attention. “Admiral Becket, Captain Somerville reporting for duty, I have been assigned to your command staff by Admiral Somerville.”

Becket moved forward and pulled him into a hug. “There’s no need for formality here,” she said as she stepped back. Captain Hancock already transmitted your father’s orders. This is Commander Albright, my Chief of Staff.” Jonathan nodded to Albright, and he nodded back. “I’m sorry for everything you have been through with Achilles,” Becket continued. “But I’m glad you’re here. I have a lot of questions, and not much time to ask them. My ships are going to take on supplies from the forts, and then we will be heading straight for Bastion. Walk with me to Trident’s bridge, I’m sure your steward and guards can sort out your things.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Becca said enthusiastically.

“So tell me,” Becket said as she gestured for Jonathan to follow her. “What was Lvant like… I mean, really like,” she pressed when Jonathan hesitated, not quite sure what she was asking. He paused for another moment as he thought, then he began to share his honest impression after the brief back-and-forth he had shared with the Protectorate Admiral. When he was done, Becket asked him about another subject, and then another. He barely registered being brought to Trident’s bridge, being shown his duty station, or being introduced to the rest of Becket’s command staff, for Becket plied him with question after question.

Eventually, two hours later, she had other duties that needed her attention, and so Jonathan was left alone at his command console. With everyone else busy overseeing the resupply of Becket’s ships, Jonathan took the time to familiarize himself with his station and then with Becket’s fleet. His eyes widened when he read the name of one of the ships. It was his sister’s pocket carrier Archimedes. Pulling up the carrier’s files, he confirmed Georgia was aboard. A quick check of her schedule told him she wasn’t on active duty. At once, he sent a request for a COM link to be established. She replied seconds later. “Jonathan, what are you doing here? I thought you were at Earth.”

“And I thought Archimedes was undergoing repairs on New Delhi,” he replied. “Mum and dad won’t be happy to hear you’re coming with us.”

Georgia rolled her eyes exactly as Jonathan had towards Becca. “Is it going to be any more dangerous on the other side of the Gift compared to facing a Flex-aor fleet?”

“No, I suppose not,” Jonathan admitted. “But still, they’ll be worried when they hear.”

“Well, at least we will be able to look out for one another,” Georgia replied with a grin. Her face straightened quickly, however. “I am sorry about Achilles. I know what it’s like to lose people.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said, surprised by the depth to her voice. It was rare for either of them to really open up to one another. “And I am sorry for the pilots you lost. Mother told me. It can’t have been easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Georgia said truthfully. “But I’m learning to live with it. As I’m sure you will, too. It just takes time, time and enough distractions,” she added as her voice lifted, the moment between them having passed. “So what are you doing here? Do you have a new ship already?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I wasn’t ready for that yet, and there is an official inquiry that has to be carried out. I’ve been assigned to Admiral Becket’s command staff as a liaison, given my experience with discovering the Protectorate.”

“A good idea,” Georgia said, nodding as if she had had the idea herself. She leaned forward. “Tell me, do the Protectorate have any fighters?”

Jonathan was taken aback by the sudden intensity in her eyes and voice. He had seen Georgia’s bravado many times before, but this was different. He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t see any, but apart from my engagements with the Eaglaton light cruisers, I didn’t get a very good look at any of the Protectorate fleet’s other capabilities. They could have. I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”

Georgia nodded again. “I’ve been training my pilots for attack runs against enemy fleets and dogfights. If they have fighters, we should be ready.”

“I’m sure your pilots will do you proud,” Jonathan agreed.

For a split-second, Georgia grimaced, telling Jonathan she wasn’t quite over the pilots she had previously lost. But then, the grimace disappeared, and her voice took on a lighter tone as she changed the subject. “Tell me, how are things at home? How are George and Rachael?”

Jonathan smiled as he thought of the brief time he had shared with his other two siblings. Before he could speak, however, one of Becket’s staff officers called out loud enough for everyone on Trident’s bridge to hear. “Admiral, we’ve just received a flash alert! A frigate has come through the Gift. Commodore Yen’s fleet is under attack!”

“Get that report to me right now!” Becket demanded. Then she began to quickly give out additional commands. “Order all our ships to cease taking on supplies. The fleet will reform around Trident immediately. Lay in a course for the Bastion wormhole!”

“I’ve got to go,” Jonathan whispered to Georgia as the rest of Becket’s command officers sprang into action.

Georgia glanced away, clearly receiving some kind of message herself. “Right, we’ll talk later. See you, big brother,” she said quickly.

“See you,” Jonathan replied. He looked around towards Becket. She, Albright, and Godwin, Trident’s Captain, were all staring at a secondary holo display. Jonathan recognized the image instantly. It was space around the Bastion end of the wormhole. Commodore Yen’s force was immediately visible. Jonathan started when he saw the rest of the contacts. Over twelve hundred unknown ships were charging Yen. Yen was holding his ground, for right at the rear of the unknown contacts was one ship Jonathan couldn’t miss. It was another Eaglaton warship, one identical to Gifosous. They have come to close the wormhole and make sure it stays closed, Jonathan groaned to himself.

“I’m not sure we can get to them in time,” Albright said as he turned to Becket. “Even if we could, can we take them?”

Becket shook her head ever so slightly. Her response deflated Jonathan. Becket had just four hundred and forty ships. From the files he had read, more would be arriving every day. But, they were no good to anyone right now. As Jonathan watched, Becket’s jaw tightened. “We can’t,” she said out loud. “But we don’t need to. There is no force this side of the wormhole that can defeat that fleet. However, there is still a chance. We need to get through the wormhole before they close it. Send a frigate through. Instruct Yen that we are coming, and that he needs to do everything in his power to hold that fleet back for as long as possible. Everything he needs to!” Becket repeated.

From the anguish on her face, Jonathan knew what she was ordering. Yen had to hold long enough for her ships to get through, no matter the cost. She hates herself, he thought. But, she is doing it anyway. Over the next twenty minutes, Jonathan was relegated to the role of observer. He wasn’t nearly familiar enough with Becket’s fleet or her staff’s command structure to join in in the midst of a battle. He could only watch as Becket’s ships were frantically brought back into one formation, and then rushed towards the Gift. One frigate was sent through to make sure the wormhole was still functioning, and then the entire fleet transitioned through the event horizon.

Devastation greeted them. From the position of Yen’s fleet, it was clear to Jonathan the Commodore had moved his ships out to meet the Protectorates. At least one, if not two missile salvos had already wrecked Yen’s two hundred ships. Only about two thirds of Yen’s ships were detected by Trident’s sensors, and many of those that were, looked to have suffered serious damage. Within seconds of Trident passing through the wormhole, hundreds of contacts raced in towards Yen’s force. They were larger and not as fast as missiles, but still put out an impressive turn of speed. Fighters, Jonathan was sure, suddenly afraid for Georgia.

“Launch our fighters,” Becket ordered, coming to the same conclusion. “Have them take up a defensive position.” Several officers, including Jonathan turned to Becket. He expected her to order them to race to Yen’s aide. Instead, she continued to give out orders. “Put the fleet onto heading one zero nine point nine. Maximum acceleration.” Jonathan’s eyes bulged. That heading would take Trident away from the battle. Becket was running and leaving Yen to die. He couldn’t help but stare at the famous Admiral, wondering if she had lost it. But her jaw was clenched, and the rest of her face was unreadable.

Alarms drew his gaze away. The enemy fighters were assaulting Yen’s ships. Explosions encircled the Imperial fleet as their point defenses blew apart many of the fighters, but larger explosions began to appear amidst Yen’s ships. Trident’s sensors picked up no sign of fighter-launched missiles, but some kind of powerful energy weapons slammed into many of the Imperial warships ripping deep gashes into them.

Jonathan wanted to scream at Becket. They could have rushed to Yen’s ships. Becket’s fighters could have protected the survivors until her warships got close enough to cover their retreat. The only thing that stopped him was all the stories his father had told him growing up. The holo dramas he had watched of the Karacknid War made Becket out to be a wild-west-type gunslinger, as someone who threw herself and her fleet into any battle, no matter the risks. He had known they couldn’t possibly be true. Yet, when he had asked his father about Becket, the truth had been even more impressive. And she brought her ship straight through the Gift, Jonathan reminded himself, she didn’t come all this way us to run from the enemy. Then what is she doing? He couldn’t help but ask, full of doubt.

“They’ve just fired another salvo,” Farnsworth, Becket’s tactical officer reported. “Twelve thousand missiles. They’re all targeting Yen’s ships.” His voice fell as he spoke, he sounded just as Jonathan felt.

“Can we hit them with our mark VIIs yet?” Becket asked in a voice of steel.

“Five more minutes, Captain,” Farnsworth replied. “From the data Yen’s flagship has sent us, we should be able to hurt them. Yen has destroyed a handful of their ships with his salvos.”

“Fire as soon as we can,” Becket said. “Make every missile count.”

Silence descended on the bridge as the next Protectorate missile salvo crashed into Yen’s ships. Hundreds of missiles broke through the point defensive fire. Detonating, they sent grazer beams burning into almost every Imperial ship. More than half of those that were left were ripped to shreds. Not one single ship survived without suffering a hit. When the explosions cleared, what was left of Yen’s fleet was a shambles. Barely thirty ships were being detected, no more than two or three were in formation with each other. It looked like a hundred missiles could breach whatever point defenses they had left and finish them off. Just seven minutes out from Yen’s ships, the Protectorate fleet already had far more than that on their way to finish the engagement.

“Look at their fighters, they are reforming,” Godwin said in a hushed voice. “They are coming our way.”

“Inform Wing Commander Sommers those fighters are not to get anywhere near my ships,” Becket ordered coldly.

At once, the order was sent out, and Nguyen’s four hundred fighters wheeled towards the approaching Protectorate fighters. Jonathan’s heart rate nearly doubled as he thought of his sister. There were still five hundred Protectorate fighters, and no one knew their capabilities. Georgia could be flying into a blood bath.

*

Not knowing what the enemy fighters could or couldn’t do didn’t make a lick of difference to Georgia. She had easily fallen into her focused trance and with her squadron, she was carrying out gentle evasive maneuvers to warm up as they approached the enemy fighters. In the many simulated fighter battles she had fought in; many different strategies were attempted. Part of a fighter wing might be kept in stealth to surprise the enemy, or the imperial fighters would split up to attack from two angles and envelop their enemy. Wing Commander Sommers was keeping it simple. The enemy fighters were attempting to close with Becket’s ships and force them to fight. Sommers had his fighters sitting squarely in the way.

When the enemy fighters were just two minutes out, Georgia flicked her COM unit to her squadron’s channel. “Listen up, Starlings, we don’t know what we’re about to face, but we do know their warships are about equal to ours. That means their fighters likely are too. That’s good, it means their fighters aren’t going to outclass our Hellcats, which makes this a test of piloting skills, and I know who I’m betting on. So, take it easy as we cross with them. Fire one missile and then concentrate on your evasive maneuvers. Let them pass us and then we can go hunting, and stick with your wing mate. No solo heroics. Understood?”

“Understood, Starling One,” Starling Two responded, “I’ll not take my eyes of your Imperial backside!”

Georgia shook her head at Jenny’s impudence right on the eve of facing an unknown enemy for the first time. She bit back the retort that came to her as the rest of her pilots added their own voices. “Then, I’ll see you on the other side, Starlings,” she said to them.

“Full evasive maneuvers,” Sommers ordered the Wing when they were sixty seconds out from missile range of the Protectorate fighters. “Fire as soon as you have a lock.”

Georgia’s eyes narrowed in on the one Protectorate fighter that was right in front of her. She designated it as her target. Seconds later, ten other fighters around it lit up as the rest of her pilots chose their own targets. With her evasive maneuvers coming to her by instinct, Georgia was able to watch the Protectorate fighters. She was waiting for them to fire their own missiles first. She knew Protectorate anti-ship missiles outranged Imperial ones, it stood to reason that their anti-fighter ones would, too. Yet, none came. Instead, her HUD beeped at her to say she was in range. Immediately, she depressed her trigger to fire off one of her two anti-fighter missiles. She then began to spray lasers at the enemy fighters. At such a range, any hit would be down to pure luck, but she wanted the enemy pilots thinking about her lasers even as they tried to dodge her missile.

To her amazement, the Protectorate fighters never fired missiles. Instead, they opened up with their own energy weapons. As they began to zip past her fighter, Georgia recognized them. Plasma bolts! She thought. Like fighters during the Karacknid Era. They were nasty, and one hit would melt a large part of her fighter. Her shields would also be less effective at deflecting their destructive force. Yet, the bolts were slower than the laser beams her Hellcat fired. Gripping her flight stick tighter, Georgia lessened her evasive maneuvers. Doing exactly the opposite of what she had advised her pilots, she focused more on her secondary target.

Trusting her instincts to be able to dodge the slower incoming enemy fire, she followed her secondary target with her Hellcat’s nose. Spraying laser beams left and then right of the target, she forced the Protectorate pilot to dodge her fire. The enemy pilot played right into her hands. Its evasive maneuvers brought it right into the center of Georgia’s crosshairs. As soon as she saw it, she depressed her trigger for a full three seconds. Laser beams zipped past the enemy fighter on all sides until one tracked in and struck it. A small explosion sent the fighter spiraling away. No shields, Georgia had just enough time to register before the entire Protectorate wing shot past the Imperial fighters.

As she flipped her fighter end over end, Georgia checked on her primary target. It was already gone; her missile had scored a hit. She quickly switched to her tertiary target. Bringing her evasive maneuvers back up to full once more, she shot volleys of laser beams towards it. When the enemy pilot dodged all of her beams, her teeth clamped together. This one was good. For six more seconds, they exchanged fire with one another, to no avail. Then the momentum of both fighter wings brought the combatants out of range of one another.

Georgia took a moment to check in on her fighters. Starling Three was gone, but the rest of her pilots were still in formation. Glancing back to the Protectorate wing, it looked like they had lost possibly sixty fighters. Just like Sommer’s force, they were decelerating hard as they turned to engage their adversaries once more. “Good shooting,” Georgia said to her pilots. “This is where it gets interesting now. Remember, keep your second missiles for a sure kill. Unless they’re holding them back, they don’t have any missiles. That’s where we have the advantage. So use it well.”

For a handful of minutes, the pilots from both sides had time to contemplate what was to come. Then both sides clashed into each other once again. The much smaller momentum both groups of fighters had allowed them to decelerate and drag each other into a much longer engagement. Georgia once again sought out her tertiary target. Once again, they both managed to dodge each other’s shots as they passed. Georgia’s teeth were still clamped firmly together. She wasn’t letting the enemy pilot get away. As they both turned again and charged, she pulled her fighter up and away hoping the enemy fighter would follow. “Starling Two, you take him.”

“Confirmed, Flight Leader,” Starling Two responded, knowing just what Georgia wanted.

Within seconds of her maneuver, Georgia’s sensors detected plasma bolts beginning to fly past her Hellcat. She carried out a series of twists, turns, and corkscrews but couldn’t shake the Protectorate pilot. Then she came out of one evasive maneuver, slowed her fighter, and held it steady for less than two seconds. As soon as the hairs on the back of neck sprang up, she dodged to one side. Six plasma bolts zipped through the space she had been in. At the same time, Starling Two yelled over the squadron COM. “Got him!”

Georgia grinned. The enemy pilot had reduced his evasive maneuvers to take maximum advantage of the clear shot on her. Starling Two hadn’t given him any time to regret his decision. The battle wasn’t over yet, and so Georgia immediately sought out a new target. “Stick to my wing Starling Two,” she ordered. As she raced after another fighter. This one was hunting down Starling Seven. “Keep up your maneuvers, Seven, I’ve got you.” Matching the Protectorate fighter move for move, Georgia slotted in behind it. Then as soon as the targeting sensors on her missile declared a lock, she released it.

In less than three seconds, it closed the distance to the enemy fighter and blew it apart. “You’re clear, Seven,” she informed her pilot, even as her eyes scanned space for another target. None jumped out at her. Widening her field of vision, she realized the Protectorate fighters were all pulling away. Several Imperial missiles streaked after them, and a few got hits. But already, the brief skirmish was over.

“Good shooting,” Sommers said over the Wing COM channel. “Scan local space for escape pods. Squadron leaders, tow any you find back with you. Let’s make sure we don’t leave anyone behind. Once you’ve completed your scans, set course for your carriers. We are not staying here any longer than we need to.”

Georgia confirmed Sommers’ orders, and then with her squadron set about scanning the area of space Starling Three had disappeared in. Sadly, there was no sight nor sign of her fighter or an escape pod. Mourning the loss of another pilot, Georgia led her squadron back to Archimedes. As she did, she checked her squadron’s stats. To her surprise, they had done well. Very well. Besides her three kills, they had scored five others. That made them the highest scoring squadron. Despite losing a pilot, it made Georgia smile. Their training had paid off. That will teach you to try and mess with our warships, she thought as she turned her attention towards the retreating Protectorate fighters. They had lost about a quarter of their strength in the brief engagement. They’ll remember us if they have to fight us again.

*

Jonathan breathed a deep sigh of relief when he spotted Georgia’s fighter among the ones returning to their carriers. He even shook his head in surprise when he saw she had scored three kills, two more than any other Imperial pilot.

“Jump us out as soon as soon as we are far enough away from the Gift’s mass shadow,” Becket ordered in the same level voice she had spoken in throughout the engagement. “We will have to find out what damage our missiles have caused some other day.”

Jonathan glanced at the holo display as Becket spoke. Currently, there was one Imperial salvo on its way towards the Protectorate fleet and a much larger enemy salvo on its way back in return. However, the display showed Becket’s ships would be able to jump into shift space a minute before the enemy missiles struck home. As the rest of Becket’s command staff prepared to take the fleet into shift space, Jonathan stole a glance at the Admiral. Just as he did, she half turned away from her other officers. A hand darted up to her face and ran under her left eye. Jonathan caught the smallest glisten of moisture before it was wiped away.

She does care, he thought. Then he remembered Becket’s words to Godwin and Albright. ‘There is no force this side of the Gift that can stop them.’ But Salamanca can, Jonathan realized. Becca had grasped from the start that only Salamanca had enough ships to drive the Protectorate fleet away from the Gift. She came through the wormhole, knowing it will be closed and we will be trapped here, all so she could join her ships to Salamanca’s and return to drive them away. Jonathan sat back in his command chair and let out a long breath. Becket was everything his father had said. He couldn’t help but steal another glance at her. Her face looked impassive once more.

We are far from beaten yet, Jonathan thought as new confidence filled him. As long as Salamanca’s fleet is intact, another voice reminded him as his fear for the Rear Admiral’s ships resurfaced. At the same time, Jonathan realized he hadn’t spotted Lvant’s flagship among the Protectorate fleet. Let them be ok, he hoped as Trident slipped into shift space and safety leaving behind the large cloud of wreckage that had been Commodore’s Yen’s fleet.

Chapter 32

Defeat is never easy, yet the mark of a true commander, whether from a cadet still in training or an Admiral on the battlefield, is that they get up to fight again.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, outer Bastion system, 18th November 2509 AD.

The seven-day journey to Bastion was a dreary one. By the time Albright gathered Becket’s command staff to inform them why Becket had abandoned Yen, most had figured it out by then. The only way there had been any chance to stop the Gift being closed permanently had been to try and rendezvous with Salamanca and with his forces, and defeat the Protectorate fleet at the Gift. Knowing that didn’t take away the guilt and sense of loss everyone felt at the destruction of Yen’s fleet. Jonathan felt it keenly, for it had been just a matter of weeks ago that he had been on Yen’s flagship and spoke with the Commodore. Now, Yen and more than two hundred thousand other Imperial spacers were gone. Becket’s fleet was also firmly trapped behind enemy lines. No more reinforcements from Earth would be coming to help them.

Though the mood on Trident wasn’t good, the journey was far from uneventful. In three separate systems, they ran across Protectorate forces. None had been stronger than small squadrons. Yet their presence was enough to indicate the Protectorates had Bastion under siege. There was no way Salamanca would allow groups of enemy warships to rove about the systems near Bastion otherwise. Skillfully, Becket utilized her fighters to intercept and destroy each of the Protectorate flotillas. Georgia even got another kill after slamming two anti-ship missiles into a destroyer. Yet, the small battles only served to worsen the mood on Trident, for everyone now feared that instead of the help Becket had broken past the Protectorate fleet at the Gift to find, they were instead going to find another enemy fleet at Bastion.

As a result, when the scout frigates Becket had sent ahead into the system returned two hours later, no one was surprised by the data they brought back. “Bastion is under siege,” Godwin said. “And it is not going well. Magellan and Orion forts have already been destroyed.”

“Salamanca is in trouble,” Albright agreed.

Jonathan wasn’t intimately familiar with Bastion’s defenses, but he had been reading up on them since his father had told him he would be joining up with Becket. If both Magellan and Orion were gone, then the three remaining forts and Bastion itself were vulnerable. It was only a matter of time before the Protectorate Fleet could move on them. And, they are not lacking for ships, Jonathan thought as he looked at the Protectorate forces. There were at least five and a half thousand enemy warships. Standing against them, Salamanca had thirteen hundred, but that meant he had lost at least two hundred along with the two forts. More than two hundred, Jonathan corrected himself when he spotted a group of Gramrian ships. If Salamanca had received reinforcements before the battle had begun, then his losses had been higher. Like everyone else in Becket’s command staff, Jonathan found himself staring at the Admiral wondering what she would do.

“Jump the fleet in,” she said in a level voice. “I need to talk to Salamanca.”

Moments later, Trident and Becket’s four hundred and forty ships jumped into the Bastion system. Two squadrons of fourteen destroyers and frigates raced out to engage the nearest Protectorate scouts. The rest of her ships remained stationary, however. “Power up the gravimetric COM, inform Salamanca that the Gift has been closed and we are the only ships likely to be coming through for some time. Request an update.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Lieutenant Rodgers said from her COM console. For five minutes, the gravimetric COM continuously sent out pulses. Then the pulse array on Hercules replied. “Salamanca reports that both Magellan and Orion forts have been completely destroyed,” Rodgers informed everyone. “He has lost three hundred and sixteen warships and four hundred fighters. In exactly two weeks, Constellation’s orbital rotation will take her out of support range of Bastion or the other forts. He expects Lvant to attack then. If Constellation is destroyed, Bastion will be uncovered just nine days after that. With the Gift closed, he expects Lvant to take his time. There have been reports of other Protectorate fleets spotted along the borders of Conclave space, so he is not sure when or how many reinforcements he can expect from Rear Admiral Walters or the Conclave Navies.”

Becket brought a hand up to scratch her cheek as she remained silent. “Inform Salamanca I do not have enough ships with me to help hold Bastion.”

“He says he understands,” Rodgers updated a minute later. “Trying to reach the inner system would just get your fleet killed unless more reinforcements arrive.”

Becket nodded. “Tell him, I will not leave you alone. I will lift the siege. He just has to hold on. We will return.”

“He says he would trust his fate to no one else. And, he wishes us luck, Captain,” Rodgers said.

Jonathan saw Becket smile for the first time since they had passed through the Gift wormhole. It wasn’t one of pleasure, though; it was entirely predatory. He couldn’t help but think he never wanted Becket as an enemy. “Inform Salamanca that it is this Lvant who is going to need luck,” Becket replied coldly. She then spun towards her Chief of Staff and Flag Captain. Her tone lightened considerably, “It seems we have a siege to break before we can return to open the Gift.”

Both Albright and Godwin stared from Becket to the holo display and the five thousand ships of the Protectorate fleet. From the look on their faces, they seemed to be thinking the same thing Jonathan was. “How are we going to do that, Admiral? We are severely outnumbered,” Albright asked.

Becket smiled again. “There is more than one way to break a siege, Commander. You should read up on your medieval history some more.” Becket clapped her hands together. “But we are eventually going to need help. I want Commodore Grant to take his squadron through the outer system to the Conclave shift passage. He is to get a message to Rear Admiral Walters. She is to get as much of her fleet to the Freeland system by the 20th December if she does not want to see Bastion lost.”

Godwin zoomed in the holo display to show the route Grant would have to take. There were over a hundred Protectorate ships patrolling the area. “Grant is going to need some help to get through there,” he commented. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going after that,” Becket said as the Protectorate supply fleet began to flash. “That should get their attention, don’t you think?”

Godwin nodded, though he looked more than a little concerned. The bulk of the Protectorate fleet lay between Trident and their supply fleet. Already, more than a thousand enemy warships were maneuvering towards Trident’s position, for though they couldn’t know how many Imperial ships Becket had, they would have detected her gravimetric COM pulses, and guessed the two squadrons that were engaging their scouts were only an advance force.

Jonathan couldn’t help but smile to himself. Becket had clearly been mourning Yen’s loss as much as everyone else. Yet now, faced with the challenge, she was springing into life. This must have been what it was like during the Gayla campaign, he thought. As a teenager, and even as an adult, he had often wished he had been there. It was clear as day that the survivors of the thrust into the heart of the Karacknid Empire shared a special bond. They faced odds even worse than what we’re facing now and won out, and both Salamanca and Becket know this. Jonathan smiled again. He didn’t know what Becket had planned, but he knew it was going to be good.

“Let’s not keep them in suspense then, shall we?” Becket asked. “Plot us an intercept course for those supply freighters. Maximum speed. Launch our fighters as well. We’re going to need some cover. Have Commodore Hughes’ squadron move ahead of our line of advance as well. I want as many of their isolated scouts taken out as possible. The more ships we kill now, the less Salamanca will have to deal with in the days ahead.”

At once, Becket’s well-trained officers sprang into action. Trident and the rest of the Admiral’s ships powered up their reactors and surged into the system. The Protectorate fleet was caught off guard. Maneuvering to prevent the newly arrived force from being able to reach Bastion, they were out of position. Their response, spread out over several minutes, was frantic. The thousand ships that had been moving to put themselves between Trident and Bastion began to reverse course as fast as they could. Another eight hundred ships from deeper within the system broke away from the main Protectorate force, and set course for the supply fleet as fast as they could. The supply fleet’s escorts began to move away from the freighters into blocking positions, while the freighters themselves retreated. Right out at the edge of the system, the one hundred or so ships that had been patrolling the Ulan’nagn shift passage rushed towards the freighters to support them. From all of the Protectorate forces, fighters began to launch and form up. The number quickly rose to over three thousand.

Jonathan shook his head at the number. From what they had seen at the Gift, three thousand would overrun their point defenses and be able to blow every ship in Becket’s fleet to smithereens. “Don’t worry, Captain,” Becket said. Jonathan turned to see her staring at him. “Salamanca is no fool.” Sure enough, within seconds, Imperial fighters began to launch from Bastion, Constellation, Capricornus, and Gemini. Their numbers swelled to over four thousand. As soon as they formed up, they set course for Lvant’s fleet. With the ships Lvant had dispatched to deal with Becket, he now had less than three thousand within the inner system. If the Imperial fighters were allowed to attack without interference, they could decimate his force, putting his siege in jeopardy. Lvant quickly recognized this, for two thousand five hundred of his fighters turned back to guard his capital ships.

“Prepare our lancer frigates and destroyer squadrons to move ahead of the fleet. They may still decide to hit us with their remaining fighters before this is over,” Becket ordered.

Ten minutes later, and it was clear Lvant did want to strike at Becket’s ships with his remaining fighters, for the five hundred that hadn’t turned back to protect the main Protectorate fleet were still approaching. “They likely just want to tango with our fighters,” Becket commented. “I’m guessing taking them out would seriously reduce Lvant’s concerns about his supply freighters. But they may try and hit the fleet. We need to be ready for either scenario. Signal Wing Commander Sommers he is free to engage, though he isn’t to take his fighters out of support range of our frigates and destroyers.”

“Maybe he should,” Albright said somewhat hesitantly. Becket turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “If they’re after our fighters, this seems like as good a time as any to try a Predator Trap. We could even use our lancer frigates to help dissuade any survivors from pursuing our fighters.”

Becket turned back to the holo plot, studied it for several seconds, and then gave Albright a sharp nod. “A good idea, Commander. Make it happen.”

Jonathan looked from Becket to Albright; he had no idea what a Predator Trap was. As Albright began to give orders to the rest of Becket’s command staff, it appeared everyone else did, for they got to work without any questions. I guess I’m going to have to find out, Jonathan thought. Moments later, he was surprised when Becket’s fleet fired a salvo of missiles out into space. More surprising, as soon as they left their tubes, the missiles didn’t ignite their own engines. Instead, they continued on a ballistic course on a trajectory that made little sense to Jonathan.

“Sommers is breaking from the Lancer frigates,” Farnsworth reported.

Once again, Jonathan’s fear for his sister grew. Sommers’ fighters were almost outnumbered two to one by the charging Protectorate ships. Yet, when the two groups of fighters crashed into each other fifteen minutes later, he quickly realized he had just been wasting his mental energy. The three hundred Imperial fighters released both of their antiship missiles in quick succession at maximum range. Every Protectorate fighter had a missile racing towards it. Whilst the vast majority managed to dodge the missiles, they were so focused on doing so that only a handful of Imperial Hellcats were blown apart as both sets of fighters passed one another. In contrast, Imperial fighters blasted at least thirty Protectorate fighters in the brief melee.

Then, instead of decelerating to engage, Sommers led his fighters on a long arc that appeared as if it was designed to sweep around the decelerating Protectorate fighters and back to the safety of Becket’s fleet. The Protectorate fighters were having none of it, however, for they quickly altered course to pursue. Jonathan’s eyes widened when he realized what was about to happen. The Protectorate fighters’ course was going to intersect with the flight of ballistic missiles. Sommers was leading the Protectorate fighters right into them! On the main holo display, as soon as the projected position of the ballistic missiles and the Protectorate fighters met, hundreds of explosions appeared. Over four thousand anti-matter missiles suddenly detonated all around the Protectorate fighters. Many of them winked out of existence.

A second later, Sommers’ fighters altered course towards the Protectorate frigates. At the same time, the Lancer frigates and the destroyers increased their acceleration rates. Now, they were the ones hunting the Protectorate fighters. The Protectorates, still with the numerical advantage, slowed their acceleration rate as they assessed the situation, then minutes later, increased it again.

“I think they just got their marching orders,” Becket commented.

Throwing off the losses from the anti-matter missiles, the Protectorate fighters charged into Sommers’ fighters once again. This time, after both sides slashed into one another, Sommers’ fighters turned to give battle, and a general melee ensued. As it developed, Jonathan sat forward in his command chair. The ball of swarming fighters was moving closer and closer to the approaching Lancer frigates. Within minutes, their thousands of point defense lasers began tearing into the Protectorate fighters as well. Jonathan had no idea how they could be confident of hitting Protectorate rather than Imperial fighters, but the specifically designed anti-missile and anti-fighter frigates started scoring hit after hit.

When the Protectorate fighter numbers fell below that of the Imperial fighters, as one they all turned tail and ran. A cheer went up around Jonathan. He too was grinning. Yet, his eyes were also trying to seek a specific fighter. He relaxed when he spotted it. Moments later, he was able to see that Georgia had two more confirmed kills. He shook his head; his sister was good.

“The fleet will increase acceleration rate to one hundred and one percent,” Becket ordered, not resting on her laurels. “Let’s make them even more nervous. Land the fighters to refuel as well.”

The Protectorate fleet’s response was predictable. All the ships that were racing to support their supply freighters increased their acceleration rates. As Jonathan focused his attention on the freighters and their escort, he began to grow nervous. Already, there were four hundred and thirty ships directly between Becket’s fleet and the freighters. Projections suggested that another hundred would reach them before Becket could bring them into missile range. The retreating Protectorate fighters were also falling back towards the supply freighters to add their numbers to the defense.

Jonathan understood the importance of striking at the supplies. If Lvant couldn’t attack Bastion without engaging all the forts for another three weeks, then taking away his supplies would put his fleet in a precarious position. Yet, was it worth losing all of Becket’s fleet? Jonathan didn’t particularly like the sound of that, nor was he sure they could even achieve it. Nevertheless, for another half an hour, Trident and the rest of her comrades raced across the outer Bastion system towards the fleeing freighters.

“I think it is time to put an end to our ruse,” Becket said just as the tension on the bridge was rising. “Alter our heading to four, four seven point two.”

“At once, Admiral,” Albright said as if he had been expecting it.

As soon as Trident’s nose began to move, Jonathan realized Becket had never intended to attack the supply freighters. Seconds later, and her force was now orientated towards the shift passage that the Protectorate fleet had entered the Bastion system from. Because Lvant had pulled all his patrol ships away from the passage, there were only a handful still in their way. Though the Protectorate ships all around them began to change course to try and intercept Becket’s fleet, it was quickly apparent on the holo display that none would be able to bring Trident into missile range before she could jump out. The surviving Protectorate fighters were another matter, however. Once again, they reversed course as they locked in an intercept course. Lvant really doesn’t want us escaping, Jonathan guessed.

“Launch fighters,” Becket ordered. “Have them intercept the enemy fighters. Make sure they know they need to get the job done and get back to their carriers, or they could be left behind.”

As Wing Commander Sommers’ fighters launched, Jonathan and everyone else on Becket’s command staff could only watch from a distance as they once again engaged their adversaries. This time, the Protectorate fighters only had three hundred and twelve against Sommers two hundred and fifty-four. With closer odds, the Imperial Hellcats demonstrated their superior dogfighting skills. In the space of just fifteen minutes, seventy Protectorate fighters were shot down at the cost of just thirty Imperial ones. As the losses mounted, someone in the Protectorate fleet decided there was no chance the fighters could break through to hit Becket’s ships, and so called for another retreat. As soon as they were disengaged, Sommers’ fighters turned and raced to catch up with their carriers. Almost sure he didn’t need to; Jonathan nevertheless checked and wasn’t surprised to see Georgia had survived and scored another kill. She will be insufferable when we speak next; he was sure.

“Land the fighters and jump us out,” Becket ordered when it was clear no more Protectorate forces could intercept them. Then she leaned back in her command chair and withdrew herself from her officers. Each time Jonathan glanced at her, she appeared to be looking at a secondary holo display, one that was zoomed in on Bastion. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking. Now that the action was over, Jonathan was thinking it too.

They had already run and left Commodore Yen and his fleet to be destroyed. Now, they were leaving Salamanca and Bastion behind as well. In his head, Jonathan knew that adding their strength to Salamanca’s wouldn’t tip the balance of forces in their favor. If Becket took Trident into the inner system, it would just trap them with Salamanca. Yet, his heart felt differently. That was why when Trident jumped into shift space, Jonathan found his hands had clenched into balls. As soon as they were gone, Lvant was bound to double or triple the ships he had patrolling the opening of the shift passage to ensure they could not return to cause more mischief.

“Something the matter Captain?” Becket asked, startling Jonathan.

His cheeks reddened as he turned to her. Only then did he realize his hands were in fists. He quickly let them go. “No, Admiral,” he said hastily.

Becket cocked an eyebrow. “Really, you just go about with that look on your face all the time? I thought your mother taught you better than that?”

“I… I’m just worried for Salamanca and Bastion. Yes, we just destroyed some of Lvant’s fighters and gave him a scare. But we have left Salamanca alone, and we didn’t even hit their freighters.”

“Alone, yes, but not without support. What else have we accomplished?” Becket asked as her eyes sparkled. “Think about it, where are we now?” She answered before Jonathan could formulate a reply. “Smack bang in the middle of Lvant’s supply lines. We don’t need to hit the freighters they are guarding when we can hit the supply convoys coming to Bastion. And what will Lvant think of having such a force operating in his rear? He will have to send ships after us. A thousand would be my guess if I have a good read on the Admiral. That’s a thousand Salamanca won’t have to worry about. And if we do this right, it is a thousand we can lead on a merry chase before we return to Bastion.”

Jonathan remembered Becket’s predatory smile from when they had first entered the system. She had a similar look in her eyes now. She is in her element, he thought. And she is ten steps ahead of me. “I’m sorry, Admiral. I didn’t understand. I think I do now,” he replied.

Becket winked at him. “You have your father’s skill when it comes to handling a single ship in combat, but still have a lot to learn about strategic warfare. Don’t worry, he had to teach me everything I know. It’s only fair I get to teach you.” She raised her voice as she looked around at her other officers. “Now, set course for the Jewel system. It’s time for the lessons to begin. We are in one of the most envious positions a strike force can ever be. We have no system to defend, tanks full of fuel, and an enemy fleet dependent on a long supply chain. It is time to get to work.”

Jonathan nodded as his mind filled with a star map of the nearby systems and he placed himself in Lvant’s position. He smiled. He was only now truly beginning to understand. Becket was going to run amuck in his supply chains. And is there anyone else you would less want to be commanding such a raid behind your front lines? He asked himself. Right now, with the look in her eyes, Jonathan knew he would fear Becket even over his father. Things are about to get interesting, he thought, his guilt at leaving Salamanca behind beginning to fade.

Chapter 33

I still remember the first fleet action I commanded personally. The fear and nerves I felt almost left me frozen. One may think it get easier with experience, let me tell you cadet, it does not. The only thing that changes is that you get better at hiding it from those around you.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, 21st November 2509 AD.

It took just three days for Becket’s plan to begin to bear fruit. In the very next system, Trident jumped out of shift space to find a Protectorate supply squadron approaching them. “Launch fighters,” Becket ordered at once. “Captain Somerville, you may command the attack.” Jonathan’s head snapped around to Becket. Me! He wanted to ask, but knew better of it. Seeing the question in his face, Becket nodded to him. “You have been studying our fleet. Time to show us what you have learnt.”

Eyes wide, Jonathan turned back to the main holo display. The Protectorate squadron was already reacting to the sudden appearance of Becket’s force. Freighters and warships alike were decelerating whilst fighters were launched. Jonathan analyzed the enemy. There looked to be sixty freighters with just twenty warships escorting them. Though the Protectorates were just outside of mark VII missile range, their momentum was bringing them straight for Becket’s fleet. “Our fighters will hold position to engage any missiles they send our way,” Jonathan ordered. “The fleet will move onto an intercept heading, maximum military thrust. Prepare to fire mark VIIs as soon as we enter range. Deploy the Lancer frigates forward as well.”

The Protectorate ships, with their longer-range missiles, fired off two salvos before Jonathan could give the order to fire. Compared to the number of missiles Becket’s fleet regularly trained to handle, their fire was pitiful. Between the Imperial fighters and Lancer frigates, barely fifty missiles came into range of Trident’s point defenses. The giant Imperial dreadnaught would have been able to handle them on her own. Backed up by the rest of the fleet, none came anywhere near being able to detonate and release their grazer beams.

“Fire,” Jonathan ordered as soon as all of his ships came into range. When six thousand missiles erupted into space and sped off towards the Protectorate ships, Jonathan took a moment as he marveled at the destructive fire he had just unleashed. He had no idea how many sentient species crewed the ships he had just targeted, but the number had to be in their thousands, if not tens of thousands. “Offer them the chance to surrender,” he found himself saying as he thought of Gifosous. Six thousand missiles were overkill for the one hundred ships in front of him.

“Their fighters are moving towards us,” Farnsworth reported.

“I don’t think they’re taking you up on your offer,” Godwin said.

Jonathan glanced at Becket, but he couldn’t read anything on her face. He turned back to the holo display, but hesitated for the briefest of moments. Then he gave the order he needed to. “Inform Wing Commander Sommers he can detach as many squadrons as necessary to see off those fighters.”

Forty-eight fighters broke away from the main Imperial force and moved to intercept the twenty-four enemy fighters trying to launch a doomed attack against the Imperial Fleet. As Jonathan expected, Starling squadron was one of those Sommers had chosen. Jonathan’s body tensed as the fighters crashed into each other. The dogfight lasted less than five minutes. All the Protectorate fighters were taken out, just seven Hellcats were hit. Four rescue beacons began to flash, signaling four pilots had ejected. “Send out rescue shuttles,” Jonathan ordered, relieved to see Georgia wasn’t among them.

“Aye, Sir,” Albright responded.

“We’re ready to fire again, Captain,” Farnsworth informed him moments later.

Jonathan focused on his missile salvo. His missiles were just two minutes away from entering point defensive range of the Protectorate squadron. Glancing at Farnsworth, he shook his head. “We may need those missiles before this war is over. Let’s see how our first salvo fares.”

“Yes, Sir,” Farnsworth replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan thought he saw Becket give a slight nod. He didn’t have time to think about it, however, as his first salvo began to be engaged by the Protectorate squadron’s point defenses. At the same time, Trident’s weapons also opened up on their third salvo. As both salvos tried to hit their targets, the outcome was entirely one-sided. Once again, no missiles made it into attack range of the Imperial Fleet. In contrast, more than a thousand anti-matter missiles detonated among the Protectorate ships. The result was complete overkill. Not a single Protectorate ship was still on the main holo display once the anti-matter dissipated. Every single one had been negated. There was no one left for Jonathan to hold out another offer of surrender to.

For several seconds, Jonathan just stared silently at the point where the Protectorate ships had been. They were all dead. Since seeing Yen’s force be destroyed, a part of him had been hungering for revenge. Yet now, he only felt sick. He remembered how he had felt the first time as Lieutenant on board Renown he had given the order to fire missiles at a pirate ship. He felt the same now, only this time he had killed an order of magnitude more people.

Behind him, Jonathan heard Becket clear her throat. He didn’t need to turn to know what she meant to communicate. He forced himself to begin giving orders again. “Recall the fighters. Bring the Lancer frigates back into formation as well. Stand the fleet down from battlestations.”

“At once, Captain,” Albright said.

“Sommers reports all fighters have landed,” Captain Farnsworth reported twenty minutes later. “We have also recovered four pilots. They’re a little shaken up, but they’re ok. Rescue shuttles could find no trace of the other three Hellcats that were destroyed.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Jonathan replied. “What course should the fleet set now, Admiral?” he asked as he turned to Becket.

She smiled at him. “Good work, Captain. You handled the fleet expertly. Set course for Ulan’nagn. We know that is where their fuel is coming from. Let’s see how many more such squadrons we can snap up. Fifty percent thrust for now. I want to see just how many ships are following us before we go too much further.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Jonathan replied and then turned to Lieutenant Harris the Navigation officer. “Set course for Ulan’nagn.”

For the next three hours, Jonathan was left alone with his thoughts. Twice, he half-turned, wanting to ask Becket about them. Each time, he found her staring at him. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, however. She has fought in hundreds of battles. She’s probably seen millions on each side killed. Jonathan wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling what he was feeling. He had seen far more ships destroyed when Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet had caught up with the Flex-aor fleet that had attacked Chennai. He hadn’t felt anything but satisfaction then. But you didn’t give the order, he reminded himself.

“New contacts!” Farnsworth announced, eventually pulling Jonathan out of his own head.

On the holo display, nine hundred ships appeared as they lit off their engines and moved onto the same heading Trident was on. “Not quite as many as I had hoped,” Becket commented. “But it will do. Take the fleet to maximum military power. They know where we’re going now. Let’s let them follow.”

Once again, Jonathan was impressed by Becket’s calm as he glanced at her. They were now heading into what was essentially enemy space, totally unsure of what forces they were going to encounter, all the while being chased by an enemy fleet twice their size. If I hadn’t heard all the stories from the Karacknid War, I’d wonder if she knows what she is doing, Jonathan thought. But, Becket’s handling of her fleet in the Bastion system had already convinced him all the stories were true. So as best he could, he projected the same confidence on his own face as he joined in with the rest of Becket’s command staff as they carried on with their normal duties.

*

IS Trident, 3rd December 2509 AD.

Over the next twelve days, Jonathan found himself constantly busy. Becket didn’t give him direct command of the fleet again, but he played a critical role in the two short engagements they had against additional Protectorate squadrons. She also had him carry out a number of extra duties to help familiarize himself more with the various ships in her fleet. As well, she had him join her, Godwin, and Albright in the simulated battleplans they worked through each day. The result of all the time he spent within Becket’s inner circle meant that when her fleet jumped out of shift space into the Ulan’nagn system, he wasn’t remotely surprised when she gave the order to advance. If Ulan’nagn was where all of Lvant’s fuel was coming from, then Becket intended to do everything she could to ravage the system.

“What are we looking at?” Becket asked as her fleet’s sudden appearance brought the warships in the system to life.

“Three hundred and twelve Protectorate warships have been picked up,” Farnsworth began to report. “About a third are guarding the gas mining stations in orbit around the gas giant. The rest are in orbit around Ulan’nagn. There are also sixty-seven Bar’samin warships with them and about three hundred Protectorate freighters as well.”

“Enemy carriers?” Becket followed up.

“Just these two here,” Farnsworth answered. “They are their smaller ones. We believe they carry no more than twenty fighters each.”

“Okay Captain, I guess you’re up,” Becket said as she glanced at Jonathan.

Jonathan strongly believed what he was about to do was a total waste of time. Yet, he had already voiced his feelings to Becket in private and she had insisted they should make the offer anyway. Forcing himself to put on as friendly a face as possible, Jonathan waved a hand at Lieutenant Rodgers to tell her to start recording. “Representatives of the Bar’samin people. I am Captain Somerville. We met not long ago when I and my ship Achilles discovered your system. I then informed you that my civilization intended you no harm. However, it is now clear the Protectorate had been lying to you from before we met. They have now taken over your system and are using it for their own purposes. Currently, an invasion fleet staged from this system and fueled by fuel mined by your stations is besieging one of our colonies in an unprovoked act of aggression.

“When Rear Admiral Salamanca came here with his fleet, he gave you a chance to side with us instead of the Protectorate, and you chose them. In doing so, you have implicated yourselves in their war of aggression. However, we wish to give you one final chance. Destroy your gas mining facilities and your orbital storage stations, and we will leave your system out of this war the Protectorates has started. Fail to do this, and we will consider you co-belligerents from here on in.”

Minutes dragged by as Jonathan’s message travelled into the system. Becket said nothing as she watched the Protectorate forces prepare their defenses. Both groups of warships broke orbit and moved out to gain some maneuvering room. They didn’t move to combine yet, no doubt due to the fact Becket had her fleet angling towards a position directly between Ulan’nagn and the gas giant.

“Looks like the Bar’samin warships are breaking orbit too,” Godwin pointed out. “They are moving to join up with the Protectorate ships.”

“I think we have our answer to Captain Somerville’s offer,” Albright said.

“Indeed we do,” Becket said as she finally looked away from the holo display. “We will go with attack plan three. Inform Sommers and begin slow-launching his fighters now. As soon as they are away, set course for Ulan’nagn.”

Good luck, Jonathan thought towards Georgia as Becket’s carriers began to report slow-launching their fighters.

When the fighters were all gone, Jonathan settled in to wait out the small part Becket’s fleet was to play in the attack plan. Over the course of an hour, they approached Ulan’nagn, but before entering range of the Protectorates missiles, they began to turn away from the planet. The Protectorate ships, the bulk of which had joined up with one another, moved to keep themselves between Trident and Ulan’nagn. Becket then ordered one missile salvo fired, while the final two fighter squadrons were launched. The mark VII missiles fired off their first stage engines, then released their smaller anti-matter missiles. However, the small warheads didn’t ignite their engines. Instead, they attempted to ballistically slip past the Protectorate fleet to hit the orbital facilities.

Knowing exactly what Becket was trying, the Protectorate fleet sent out hundreds of recon drones, and moved into a wide formation as they sought out the missiles. Their fighters also moved to intercept the fighters Becket had launched as the Imperial fighters were trying to angle up and around the Protectorate fleet whilst it sought out the Imperial missiles with their defensive weapons. As laser beams and other point defenses began to find and destroy the anti-matter warheads, Jonathan smiled. It looked like every Protectorate eye was focused on the threat Becket’s fleet posed.

*

Georgia peered at Ulan’nagn’s orbital defenses through her Hellcat’s passive sensors. They didn’t look anything near as formidable as Bastion’s defenses, and she knew Bar’samin sensors and weapons weren’t nearly as effective as Imperial ones. Yet, there still looked to be quite a number of orbital defense stations. Probably because of their paranoia towards the Dudl’lons, Georgia thought. After mentally mapping all the defense stations, she switched her focus on to the Protectorate warships that were still in orbit. There was a total of twelve frigates protecting the gas storage facilities and freighters. As she watched them, Sommers began to assign each one as targets for the various squadrons in his attack force. Timings then came up on her HUD for how Sommers wanted the strike to go. Georgia smiled when she saw Starling’s targets. Sommers had given them the hardest targets, the gas storage facilities. It means he trusts us, she told herself. Pride in her pilots filled her. They had only joined up with Becket’s fleet a month and a half ago, and already, they were earning themselves a reputation.

Switching COM channels, she spoke to her pilots. “You have all received your targets. It looks like we’re going to be the tip of the spear. Let’s not let the rest of the attack force down. Focus on your evasive maneuvers until I give the order to fire.”

When each of her pilots acknowledged they had received their targeting data, Georgia began to roll her shoulders and flex her fingers. She arched her back, and then settled into her command chair. They were now just minutes away from the prearranged go coordinates. As soon as her Hellcat crossed them, its autopilot powered up her reactor to full and drove all its energy through her impulse engine. Around her, Starlings and another five squadrons of fighters did the same. Disengaging her autopilot, Georgia began to carry out evasive maneuvers as her mind let go of everything but her primary target. Soon, defensive fire began to whizz all around her as first the Protectorate ships and then the Bar’samin orbital defenses opened fire. Georgia barely noticed it as she focused on evasive maneuver after evasive maneuver. Twice, her shield flared from glancing hits from a laser or some other energy weapon, but its strength held above fifty percent.

Around her, other squadrons began to fire. First, anti-matter missiles raced in towards the Protectorate frigates. Nine were blown apart. The defensive fire coming her way noticeably reduced. Next, other squadrons hurled missiles at many of the freighters in orbit. Georgia was vaguely aware of the freighters trying to break orbit and dodge the incoming missiles. The explosions that bloomed all around her peripheral vision suggested few had been successful. As her fighters continued deeper into Ulan’nagn’s orbit, the fire coming their way picked up again. The Bar’samin gunners had figured out her Hellcats hadn’t fired their missiles yet.

Georgia winced when two explosions in close proximity to her fighter erupted one after the other. She was certain they were from Hellcats being blown apart. There was no time to think any more about them, however, for she finally came into range of the storage facilities in low orbit. Thumbing her trigger, she fired off her two anti-matter missiles, each one at a different station. At once, she pulled up and away, leaving the Bar’samin gunners to try and shoot down her missiles. As the view out of her cockpit changed from being dominated by Ulan’nagn to open space, her eyes widened. All of the Protectorate freighters had tried to break orbit and run. Many were falling back down towards the Bar’samin planet, large holes eaten into their sides or entire sections gone, negated by the anti-matter. But many were still intact and still trying to run. It was a mistake, however, for they were moving away from Ulan’nagn defenses.

“All fighters in range, you are free to engage those freighters as you pass,” Sommers’ voice said over the Wing’s COM channel seconds later.

Georgia already had a freighter picked out. She sent its information to her wing mate. “Starling Two. This one is ours.”

“Understood, Flight Leader,” Starling Two responded.

Together, they zipped and wove through the limited and uncoordinated defensive fire the fleeing freighters fired at them. Then, as soon as they were in effective range, both Hellcats opened up with their small laser cannons. As they had practiced together many times, focusing on the freighters’ engines, they blew up one and then a second as they passed. The second one’s destruction caused a series of secondary explosions to rip right up the length of the freighter, breaking its superstructure apart. Immediately, Georgia sought out a second freighter, there was one roughly along their line of escape. “Let’s take this one too,” she said hastily as she turned her nose towards it. This time, their laser cannons destroyed three of the freighter’s four engines. There were no secondary explosions to finish it off, however. Georgia was content, the freighter wouldn’t be delivering any other supplies to Lvant’s fleet anytime soon.

For another couple of minutes, Georgia kept her focus on evasive maneuvers as she led her squadron away from Ulan’nagn. As soon as they were out of range of the point defenses though, she focused her Hellcat’s sensors on the planet orbitals. We did it! She thought to herself. Two-thirds of the storage stations were no more. All that was left of them was the large chunks of wreckage that were burning up in Ulan’nagn’s atmosphere. Even better, it looked like less than forty freighters had survived the attack. Most of them were the ones whose Captains had realized it was foolish to run away from the planet’s defenses and had turned around before it was too late. Next, Georgia turned her attention to the system’s gas giant. There too, she was greeted by the sight of destroyed stations being sucked into the planet’s gravity well. Fifty fighters were streaking away from the remaining defensive fire from the Protectorate ships that had been left behind to protect the gas mining stations. As far as her Hellcat’s sensors could tell, every one of the gas mining stations had been destroyed. Mission accomplished, she thought with a nod.

With nothing else to distract herself with, Georgia glanced at the status of her squadron. She grimaced; she had been right. Two of her pilots hadn’t reported in. But it is the price we have to pay to relieve Lvant of his supplies. As soon as she thought it, Georgia was wracked by guilt. The two pilots had been her friends. She hated how callous she was becoming. But this is war, she reminded herself. Like it or not, many of us are not going to survive this. This is the price we pay to protect those at home. Forcing herself to take on a lighter tone, she keyed her COM unit. “All right, Starlings, that was some very good shooting. Now, let’s get back to our carriers, it’s time to get out of here, that Protectorate fleet can’t be far behind us, and I imagine that when they get here, they’re not going to be too pleased with what we’ve done to their fuel supplies!”

Chapter 34

What was true in the time of Caesar, Napoleon, and Guderian, still rings true today; an army or fleet can only fight for as long as its bellies are full. Without food supplies, munitions and fuel, no fleet can defeat its enemies. Today, with the vast expanse of the galaxy the Imperial Fleet must protect, logistics are as important as ever.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Unnamed system, 7th December 2509 AD.

Not too pleased was maybe an understatement, Georgia thought to herself as she remembered her words from four days ago. To her surprise, and no doubt to the Protectorate fleet’s discomfort, as soon as Georgia’s squadron had landed after attacking Ulan’nagn orbitals, Admiral Becket had ordered her ships to leave the system via the Farvul’vian shift passage. Just before they had jumped out, the Protectorate fleet had arrived. Their pursuers had arrived just in time to see their fuel supplies and mining operation at Ulan’nagn destroyed, and Becket’s fleet heading for Farvul’vian.

The Protectorate’s fleet’s feeling about what they had discovered was now evident in what Georgia was watching through her Hellcat’s passive sensors. All nine hundred of their ships were streaming across the unnamed system she was in, faster than any Imperial ships had observed Protectorates going before. That meant they were pushing their reactors and engines hard. Ahead of the main force of five hundred capital ships, the rest of the Protectorate ships were split up into various scouting squadrons. With the speed the larger ships were carrying, the scouting squadrons were being pushed hard as they sought to keep in contact with Becket’s fleet to make sure it didn’t slip away, whilst also checking for traps ahead of the main force’s line of advance. They want to catch her fleet badly, Georgia thought as her eyes stared at Becket’s ships. Refusing to match the Protectorate’s increased acceleration rates, her ships were about two-thirds of the way through the system towards the shift passage that would lead on to Farvul’vian.

Turning back to the Protectorates, she smiled as her gaze settled on one particular Protectorate squadron. A small force of twenty-five ships was far ahead and to starboard of the main fleet of Protectorate capital ships. It was within supporting distance of another one hundred ships. At least, supporting distance if any of Becket’s ships tried to turn back to engage them. Unbeknown to the Protectorates, as soon as Becket’s fleet had entered the system, she had ordered Wing Commander Sommers to launch half of his fighter wing. To her surprise, Georgia had been put in command of the fighters. For three hours, she had led them as they raced across the system to their current location. Then, powering down their reactors and engines, they had entered stealth and begun to wait. That had been five hours ago. Now, their time was almost approaching. “All squadrons ready?” Georgia asked her fellow squadron leaders over the laser COM link they had established.

“Hector Squadron ready,” the first Flight Leader replied. “Red Squadron is good to go.” “Eagle squadron is ready and waiting,” the others added.

“Then we go in twenty seconds,” Georgia said as she sent the flight path she had worked out to the automatic pilots of all forty-four fighters in her wing. “Full acceleration all the way. We will strike them hard, and then get out of here.”

Fifteen seconds later, Georgia’s autopilot powered up the Hellcat’s reactor, then at the chosen time, the Hellcat’s three impulse engines roared into life. Suddenly, forty-four new contacts filled the gravimetric sensors of every ship in the system. The first few seconds of acceleration pushed Georgia back in her flight seat as her Hellcat weaved around several large asteroids. In a flash, all of the fighters then sprung out of the asteroid field they had been hiding in and turned their noses towards the small squadron of enemy ships.

The Protectorate ships that were their target were the first ships to react to their appearance. Instinctively, they turned towards the threat and moved into a defensive formation. Less than a minute later, however, they turned away from Georgia’s wing and tried to run towards more of their comrades for support, for they were outnumbered. It will do you no good, Georgia thought towards whoever had made that decision. Thanks to her Hellcat’s mini-inertial compensator, her fighter could put out three times the acceleration of even the fastest Protectorate frigate.

It took just ten minutes for her attack wing to come into range of the Protectorate ships’ point defenses. By the time laser beams began to zip past her fighters, Georgia already had them carrying out evasive maneuvers. The attack run was relatively benign compared to many Georgia had run before. Her targets were all destroyers and frigates, and so the defensive fire was relatively limited.

Though she knew her force had to be taking losses, Georgia kept her focus on her target. As soon as she could, she fired her two antimatter missiles towards the destroyer. Though she pulled up and away and continued her evasive maneuvers, so much of the Protectorate defensive fire switched onto the missiles that she was able to watch her missiles’ approach. Her face screwed up when one missile was shot down. Then, just as quickly, she grinned when the second smashed right into the destroyer, punched through its armor and hull before detonating. In just a couple of seconds, anti-matter ate the destroyer from the inside out. Almost nothing was left of the warship by the time the last anti-matter particles were negated. Widening her vision to the rest of the enemy squadron, Georgia was pleased to see many more ships were gone. It looked like only six remained. She smiled. They had obliterated their target.

Now for the butcher’s bill, Georgia said to herself as her elation died down. “Flight Leaders, check in,” she requested. Eight, she thought after speaking to her flight Leaders and checking in on Starling Squadron. It was a fair trade for nineteen enemy ships. Yet, it still felt like a lot of pilots to her, especially when Starling squadron had lost another pilot.

“Wing Leader, are you picking this up?” Red squadron’s Flight Leader asked, disturbing Georgia’s thoughts.

On her HUD, two groups of enemy ships began to flash. Georgia’s eyebrows rose when she saw them. Already, she had her fighters racing to catch up with Admiral Becket’s fleet. Yet, it seemed two groups of Protectorate scout squadrons had other intentions. They were moving to cut off her fighters. Sweat began to run down Georgia’s forehead as she glanced at her Hellcat’s fuel status. After her long flight to the asteroid field they had hidden in, there was very little fuel left for any additional maneuvers. And without anti-ship missiles, there is no way we can fight our way through them. Just as Georgia started to feel real panic for the first time in months, fifty new contacts appeared on the holo display. When their transponders identified them, Georgia let out a relieved breath. Becket! She thought. She knew exactly what was going to happen.

*

IS Trident.

“They’re taking the bait,” Jonathan reported excitedly just moments after the fighter-launched anti-matter missiles detonated amongst the ships of the small Protectorate squadron. “Sigma-one and Sigma-two are both moving to support Sigma-four.”

“Good,” Becket responded in a level tone. “Let’s give them some time to think they may have a chance.”

Jonathan nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Every moment Becket delayed, Sigma-one and two got closer to Georgia’s fighters. Fifteen minutes passed without Becket speaking again. Eventually, Jonathan turned to her. “Go-ahead, Captain,” she said as soon as Jonathan’s eyes met hers.

“At once, Admiral,” Jonathan replied. Swinging back to his console, he tapped the button that would transmit the go order to Commodore Watson.

“And let’s deactivate the drones. Let them know they were tricked,” Becket added. “It’ll give them something to think about, for who knows how many of our ships are actually drones.”

Moments later, eighty Imperial light ships suddenly appeared on the holo display. They were not moving fast, but they were so close to Sigma-one that they didn’t need to. The momentum of both groups of ships meant they would inevitably come into missile range of one another. At the same time, eighty ships disappeared from Becket’s fleet as the drones that had been masquerading as warships deactivated.

The battle between Commodore Watson’s ships and Sigma-one was short and vicious. Outnumbered three to one, the Protectorate ships were destroyed in just four salvos. With nowhere to run, they accepted their fate and charged as close to Watson’s ships as possible which allowed them to fire off two salvos of their more powerful shorter-range missiles. Eleven of Watson’s ships were destroyed. Sigma-two, rather than try and come to Sigma-one’s aid, saw the writing on the wall and turned to rendezvous with another more powerful scouting squadron. Nevertheless, their momentum allowed Watson to fire off a couple of mark VII salvos at them before they moved out of missile range. The salvos destroyed fourteen additional Protectorate ships whilst Watson only lost two destroyers and a frigate to the return fire. As soon as Sigma-two moved out of missile range, Watson turned his ships back onto a course to rendezvous with Becket’s main fleet. As they did, Georgia’s fighter force passed them, now safe from attack.

“Slow the fleet to fifty percent acceleration,” Becket ordered as soon as it was clear the series of ambushes had worked. “Once Watson is back in formation and we have landed all our fighters, take us back to one hundred.”

Jonathan sat back in his command chair as Becket’s Navigation Officer carried out her orders. He kept a keen eye on the Protectorate fleet, but otherwise, he allowed himself to begin to relax. He had played his part. The scouting squadrons leading the Protectorate fleet through the system were in disarray. Two of them had been destroyed, a third hurt badly, and all had been pulled out of position either by Georgia’s or Watson’s attacks, just as Becket had planned. Now we pretend to jump out, then head back to Freeland and the rendezvous point, where Rear Admiral Walters is hopefully waiting for us, Jonathan said to himself, trying to build his confidence. That was the one real unknown. He had no fear that Becket would fail to give the Protectorate fleet the slip. But the real question was, what additional forces would be waiting for them at Freeland? For if there were none, there was no way Becket had the numbers to help Salamanca, even if they had run riot through the Protectorate’s supply chain.

“Jumping us out now,” Lieutenant Farnsworth reported an hour later as Trident crossed the system’s mass shadow.

As the massive dreadnaught carried out a micro jump sending two small shockwaves through the ship, one after the other, the bridge descended into silence. For an hour and a half, they all watched on the gravimetric sensors as the Protectorate fleet continued on towards the point where they had jumped into shift space. Collectively, it felt like everyone held their breath as their pursuers reached the point where they could jump into shift space. Right on schedule, the Protectorate ships began to disappear. Around Becket’s fleet, stealth drones had been deployed to look out for any sign of ships emerging again from shift space. Everyone’s eyes snapped to the feed from them. The seconds ticked by slowly, yet there were no new ships detected. When a full minute passed, Becket was the one to break the silence. “I think we can assume they have taken the bait,” she said to her officers. “It will take them four hours to reach the next kink in the shift passage and realize we turned back. Let’s use them wisely. Jump us back in.”

Over the next hour, Jonathan helped the rest of Becket’s command staff as they lined the end of the shift passage the Protectorate fleet had just jumped out of with anti-matter mines. Normally, any fleet commander worth their salt would send in scout ships to check for hidden threats, but there was a very good chance that once the Protectorate Admiral realized Becket had doubled back, he would rush his ships back without hesitation. As soon as the mines were set, Becket had her fleet head for the shift passage to Freeland. Then they jumped out, leaving no trace as to where they were headed. Eight hours later, the Protectorate fleet reappeared. Anti-matter mines struck out at more than eighty ships as they emerged. None had a chance to avoid the deadly particles that negated their armor, hull and innards as if they were nothing more than vapor. The Protectorate Admiral, confused and angry, delayed setting off with his main fleet as he sent out scouts to check down each shift passage his quarry could have escaped down. As a result, he was tens of light years away from Becket’s fleet when it reached its rendezvous point.

*

IS Trident, Freeland system, 24th December 2509 AD, (seventeen days later).

Within minutes of the fleet jumping into the Freeland system, the mood on Trident’s bridge dampened considerably. After destroying several Protectorate supply convoys, taking out their fuel facilities at Ulan’nagn and giving the fleet pursuing them a bloody nose, emotions had been running high on the journey back towards Bastion. In everyone’s mind, all they had to do now was meet up with Rear Admiral Walters’ force, then move on Bastion and drive Lvant out of the system. The scene that greeted them in the Freeland system extinguished such hopes. Like the rest of Becket’s command staff, Jonathan stared open mouthed at the fleet of ships that awaited them. Rear Admiral Walters had commanded over fifteen hundred warships, yet barely six hundred were huddled together at the rendezvous coordinates. Heightening the concern everyone felt, many of them looked to have taken battle damage.

“Take us in,” Becket ordered in a level tone, clearly meant to mask the disappointment she had to be feeling. “Open a COM channel with the fleet’s senior commander as soon as we are in two-way communication range.”

“COM channel open, Admiral,” Lieutenant Rodgers reported ten minutes later. “You are connected with Commodore Matthews.”

“Commodore,” Becket said in the same tone. “Thank you for coming to the rendezvous point. Your ships are sorely needed. You have been in a battle. Tell me, what has happened?”

“Admiral Becket,” Matthews said quickly. “We are very glad to see you. I’m afraid to report that Rear Admiral Walters is dead. We are most of what remained of her fleet. Things have not gone well since we first received Rear Admiral Salamanca’s news about the Protectorate.”

Becket nodded as she gave Matthews a conciliatory look. “I will read your report in due time. Just give us an overview for now, Commodore.”

“Yes, of course, Admiral,” Matthews replied. “Within two days of receiving rear Admiral Salamanca’s warning and call for aid, other reports started coming in from southern Conclave worlds. Sightings of unknown alien warships were being made all across their southern territory. As we waited for the different elements of our fleet to meet us at Scalatar, we also learnt that Admirals Fargal and Juromiel were moving their fleets to reinforce the southern Conclave worlds. They requested we dispatch some of our force to aide them. Walters detached three hundred ships to go with them. Then, the rest of us headed for Bastion. However, word reached us that a full enemy fleet had been spotted at Uroal and was threatening to invade the planet.

“Walters decided we had to investigate. When we reached Uroal, the colony was under siege by one thousand Protectorate ships. As soon as we showed up, they fell back. Walters believed it was a probing attack, meant to draw forces away from Bastion. She chose to strike at it before the enemy fleet could escape so that they couldn’t cause any more disruption along the frontier. It was an intense battle. The Protectorate fought with vigor, and they had a number of tricks. We managed to drive them away with heavy losses, but we suffered as well. Rear Admiral Walters was lost when Everest was struck by four of the Protectorate’s close-range missiles. After the battle, I had to dispatch a number of badly damaged ships back to Scalatar, but when your orders reached us, I brought the rest here.”

“You have done well,” Becket said when Matthews finished. “I will be honest; we were hoping Rear Admiral Walters would be here with her full strength and additional Conclave squadrons. But, that is not to be. I suspect that there has been more than one Protectorate probing fleet assaulting the Conclave species’ southern colonies. Their main thrust is still aimed at Bastion however, and time is of the essence. We must depart for Bastion at once. All your ships that can still maintain their maximum acceleration rates are to fall into formation with us. The rest will have to remain here. There is nothing they will be able to do to aid us at present, I’m afraid.”

“Are you sure, Admiral?” Matthews asked, his voice rising. “We have all been through a lot to get here.”

Becket smiled at the Commodore. “So have we, Commodore,” she replied. “We will be leaving our damaged ships here, too. Lvant has at least four thousand warships in the Bastion system, more if he has received reinforcements. By now, Constellation fort will have been taken. In just four days Lvant will be able to assault Gemini without having to worry about being hit by Bastion’s battlestations. Then, he will be able to take the fleet base any time he wishes. There’s only one way we can break the siege now, and that will require speed. So, have your ships that can keep up with us join our formation. We set course for the shift passage to Bastion in ten minutes. We will talk more on the way.”

“Yes, Admiral, right away,” Matthews said as determination filled his voice. “We are all eager to get revenge for Rear Admiral Walters.”

“I am sure you are, Commodore, and your people will get the chance. I can assure you of that.”

“I will begin moving my ships now, Admiral,” Matthews said as he snapped a salute and then ended the COM channel.

As Matthews’ ships split up and the majority of them moved to rendezvous with Trident, Jonathan shared a glance with Becket’s other staff officers. From the looks on their faces, it seemed none of them knew exactly what their Admiral had planned, either. All their simulations and the journey to Freeland had assumed they would have been reinforced by fifteen hundred to two thousand warships, not the six hundred that were moving to join them. But she thought it a likelihood, Jonathan realized. And she has been planning for it, even if she didn’t want to dishearten us with the possibility. A glance at Godwin and Albright confirmed it for Jonathan. Neither Becket’s Flag Captain, nor Chief of Staff, looked as concerned. I hope that means we have a chance, Jonathan thought as the fleet set course for the Bastion shift passage. For if Constellation fort had now fallen, that likely meant Salamanca had lost more ships. Which means we’re going to be heavily outnumbered. And, we still have to open the wormhole even if we do win at Bastion!

Chapter 35

A fixed defensive position forces the defender to hold their ships in place and allows the attacker to choose the time and place to fight. That is why, as far as possible, the Empire has developed a decentralized strategy. Our construction yards, fleet bases, and naval academies are spread out right across the Empire, giving us less fixed systems to defend. However, we cannot adopt a similar strategy with our populace, and so we will always be vulnerable to an enemy that seeks to attack and destroy our colonies.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, 28th December 2509 AD, (four days later).

Despite knowing Becket’s plan, as Trident jumped into the system and her sensors started to update the main holo display, Jonathan felt a deep trepidation. The direness of the situation was confirmed when no power readings were picked up from any of the system’s forts bar Capricornus and the fleet base at Bastion itself. Lvant had destroyed them all. When only eight hundred imperial ships were detected defending Capricornus and Bastion, it was apparent Salamanca’s fleet had taken substantial losses defending the forts. In contrast, Lvant still had four thousand warships keeping station just out of range of Bastion’s battlestations, indicating he’d either taken no losses during his previous assaults, or more likely, that he had indeed received reinforcements.

She was right again, Jonathan thought as he weighed up the tactical situation. Even if Becket could somehow maneuver her one thousand strong fleet past Lvant’s forces to join up with Salamanca, there was no way they could hold Bastion for long. In just two days, Capricornus fort’s orbit would take it out of range of Bastion. Then, Lvant could assault the fleet base whenever he wished, or he could just keep us locked up in the inner system. We’d not be able to get out, and then the Gift will never be reopened. Knowing Becket was right didn’t make Jonathan feel any better, nor his sense of impending doom any less forbidding. What Becket was about to ask of his sister was all but a death sentence. But she has faced such orders once before and survived, he reminded himself. And, it was Emilie who gave the order. If Emilie could do what needed to be done, then so can I, Jonathan told himself as he summoned the determination to do his duty, no matter what was about to come.

“I don’t see that we have any choice,” Becket said into the somber mood that engulfed the bridge. “We have hurt their supply condition, now we must break it. It is the only way. Take us in. Maximum acceleration.”

Every ship in the fleet was ready for the order. As soon as it was given, Trident and the rest of Becket’s one thousand and seventeen warships began to accelerate. They had their noses aimed at the rocky planet that had once been home to the Orion fort. Using its gravity, they would be able to slingshot themselves deeper into the inner system around the current position where the bulk of Lvant’s fleet was concentrated. Unsurprisingly, Lvant’s fleet picked up the arrival of Becket’s ships right away on their gravimetric sensors. It only took them a minute to react. Turning, they began to back away from Bastion to give themselves more maneuvering room. A thousand ships held position to keep Salamanca’s fleet from breaking orbit, while the rest of Lvant’s fleet powered up their reactors and engines to full. It was obvious Becket was trying to race her ships to Bastion under the cover of Capricornus’ missiles. Lvant began to move to place his ships into a position where they could intercept Becket before they reached the protection Capricornus fort could give them.

“Alter heading onto course Alpha-two,” Becket requested. “And send my orders for Salamanca to Bastion.” Moments later, her fleet changed heading; now, they turned towards one of the system’s gas giants. At the same time, Trident’s gravimetric COM began to pulse.

Lvant’s ships didn’t change course immediately. Heading for the gas giant gave Becket more course options as she could swing around the large stellar body and come out on several different trajectories that would help her race for the inner system. Eventually though, Lvant moved his ships into the best position from which he could block Becket, no matter the course she intended. Becket gave him half an hour for his ships to move towards the position Lvant wanted, then she changed her course again, turning towards a different planetary body. For more than an hour, the game continued, as Becket moved Lvant this way and that, just as she had planned on their journey from Freeland. If Lvant realized he was being played, Jonathan saw no sign of it. In reality, there was little he could do. He had to try and stop Becket from joining her force to that of Salamanca’s. From his perspective, that was obviously the biggest threat Becket’s ships posed.

“I believe the time has come,” Becket said ten minutes after her fleet made its sixth course change. “Send word to Sommers he can launch his fighters.”

As soon as the word went out, hundreds of new contacts began to appear on the holo display all around Trident. With the addition of Commodore Matthew’s fighters, Sommers’ fighter wing had been reinforced to a strength of seven hundred fighters. Once they were all formed up, they set off at maximum speed. Their target was clear, for all their noses were pointed straight at the Protectorate supply fleet that was on the far side of the system. Being guarded by just three hundred enemy warships, if the fighters could reach them, they would be able to cause mayhem among the freighters. That was Becket’s ultimate goal. In any kind of ship-to-ship engagement, Lvant’s numbers would allow him to win the day. But if the Protectorate’s supplies could be taken out once and for all, Lvant would be forced to fall back. For even if he took Bastion, he would stand little to no chance of holding it so far from his base of operations.

The result was inevitable, just as Becket had predicted, and just as Jonathan had feared. From Lvant’s fleet, one thousand two hundred fighters launched, formed up, and set course to intercept Sommers’ fighters. For an hour, Sommers led his fighters through several course changes as they tried to avoid the Protectorate fighters, but it was soon apparent there would be no getting past them. While Becket continued to play cat and mouse with Lvant, Sommers settled on going through the enemy fighters if he was to strike at the Protectorate freighters. The first battle of Becket’s plan was about to commence.

*

“All right pilots, this is it,” Sommers said over the COM channel to the entire attack wing. “Everything rests on us. This is a fight to the death, and I have no intention of being the one who is going to die today. So, let’s take out every single one of these damn aliens and let the fleet send their warships home with a swift kick up the backside. Agreed?”

Though no one replied over the COM channel, Georgia found herself shouting ‘yes’ as she imagined many other pilots doing so as well. They had all been fully briefed. They had one simple mission, to shoot down as many enemy fighters as possible. If they could, they were to soak up all the fighters the Protectorates had left.

“Then, let’s jettison our fuel tanks and get to work,” Sommers continued. “Good luck out there and give them hell!”

Reaching out, Georgia tapped a button on her console and the two fuel tanks that resembled the anti-ships missiles her Hellcat usually carried disengaged and fell away. If the Protectorate fighters were surprised, they didn’t show it by altering course. At this stage, there was no point. The momentum of both groups of fighters meant an engagement was inevitable. That’s right, Georgia thought towards the enemy fighters, we didn’t come here to hit your freighters, we came for you. “Starlings, begin overlapping evasive maneuvers,” she ordered. “Hold your missiles until after the first contact.”

Taking a firm hold of her flight stick, Georgia joined her eight pilots in their choreographed maneuvers. It was something they had been practicing for the last month. When Jonathan had first come to her and shared his recordings of the Dudl’lon spaceships and aquatic species defensive movements, she had been skeptical. He had insisted he thought the movements would work, but no current Imperial warship designs had enough maneuvering thrusters to attempt them. Her Hellcats were another matter. Eventually, his constant pestering had led her to try it with her pilots in several simulations. It had taken them a couple of days to begin to get a hang of the idea, but when they did, they started to see results. Not enough initially to convince Sommers to expand the idea to the rest of the squadrons in his wing, but enough that Georgia kept her pilots training and improving. The tactic was only effective in certain situations, but a head-on collision with enemy fighters was one of them.

As the Protectorate fighters rushed into laser cannon range, Georgia’s fighters overlapped with one another again and again. Her nine Hellcats were split into three groups of three. Each group carried out a set of pre-prepared evasive maneuvers with one another. Then, each group swirled around each other as well. The result was that it was all but impossible for the Protectorate fighters to pick out individual targets as they approached. Instead, as the Imperial and Protectorate fighters came into range with one another, the Protectorates could only take snapshots at whatever Imperial fighter they could see at the last moment. As the fighters flashed past one another, two of Georgia’s Hellcats took hits to their shields, but none were destroyed. In contrast, two Protectorate fighters were shot down by her pilots. Then, as soon as they passed each other, all the combatants spun their fighters and continued to blast into one another as their momentum quickly moved them apart.

Sighting in on one Protectorate fighter that was spinning about wildly in a series of impressive evasive maneuvers, Georgia followed it back-and-forth waiting for just the right moment. When it came, she depressed her trigger and held it down until the fighter was blown apart. Having missed her target when the enemy had first flashed past her, she grunted in approval. It quickly turned to a grimace when an explosion erupted just to her right. Starling Four had just been blown apart. “After them!” she snarled as she pushed her engines to full.

The Protectorate fighters did the same, and so just five minutes later, both groups crashed into one another again. Again, Georgia’s new maneuvers saved her pilots from taking any initial losses. This time however, both groups were going far slower, enabling them to turn and chase one another. As a general melee broke out, missiles started appearing from all around Georgia as Imperial fighters started to use their deadly weapons. Explosions filled space in front of her. Georgia grunted again when her first missile caught up to its target, matched the Protectorate fighter’s evasive maneuvers, and then slammed into the back of the enemy fighter, ripping it apart.

For the briefest of seconds, Georgia spared a glance at one of her secondary displays. Thanks to the Imperial missiles, the fight was already much closer to being an even one. The brief distraction almost cost her dearly, however. Suddenly, her shields flared, and Georgia swore as she twisted her fighter away from the string of plasma bolts that flashed through where she had just been. Moments later, and more bolts began to zip past her. For several seconds, she twisted and weaved, trying to throw off the aim of whoever was following her. Bolts kept just missing. Sweat began to run down her back. The enemy pilot was good. She was struggling to shake him.

“Hold on, Starling One,” the familiar voice of Starling Two said over the squadron COM channel. “I have a missile almost lined up on the fighter hunting you. Break right when I say…. Break!”

Immediately, Georgia ended the spin she had thrown her fighter into and pulled hard to the right and up, relative to where she had been headed. The enemy fighter fired a couple more bolts at her, but then the fire ceased. The Protectorate pilot had Starling Two’s missile to worry about. “Thanks for the assist, Two,” Georgia called out.

“I’ve got your six boss, let’s get him,” Starling Two replied.

Two had read Georgia’s mind. Not satisfied with simply breaking free, she was already spinning her fighter around as she sought out the enemy that had been chasing her. She spotted it just in time to see the enemy pilot jink one way just as the missile was about to hit him. The missile mimicked the maneuver, only to find its quarry had changed back in the opposite direction and used its maneuvering thrusters to break hard. The missile overshot its target. Sensing it couldn’t turn and reacquire, it looked for another nearby enemy fighter. Detecting one, it leaped off towards it. The Protectorate fighter that had attacked Georgia slowly spun around, looking for a new target of its own. Then, it too gunned its engines. “Oh no, you don’t,” Georgia said as she pushed her fighter after it.

Matching the Protectorate pilots’ moves, Georgia closed in right behind him. She held back from firing until she had a clear kill shot. Just as the enemy fighter began to fire on the target it had chosen, Georgia slammed twelve lasers into it. The fighter broke apart instantly, its engines already melted to slag. Without even thinking about it, Georgia automatically sought out another target and raced after it. As soon as she had a lock, she released her second missile and scored her third kill. The rest of the engagement became a blur to her. Twice, laser beams deflected off her shields. The second set of beams drained it of its last ionized particles. Georgia didn’t even blink. She had long since come to accept death was a real possibility. There was nothing she could do to avoid it but fly with every ounce of skill she had developed, and that was exactly what she did. Becoming one with her Hellcat, Georgia shot down fighter after fighter. When someone called for aid, she was quick to swoop in to shoot down the enemy pilot tailing them. Once she was too late, but that only spurred her on more.

Just six minutes after the two groups of fighters crashed into each other the second time, Georgia shot down her seventh enemy fighter. As her eyes sought out another target, they widened in surprise. She was immediately pulled from her trancelike state. There were no more targets. The Protectorate fighters hadn’t run away. There simply weren’t any left. Just as Sommers had intended his wing to fight to the last, the Protectorates had done the same. “We won,” Georgia said to herself, her voice full of surprise. Her scopes were telling her barely one hundred and fifty Imperial fighters were left. But they were there. They had won, they had shot down all the Protectorate fighters! Georgia’s elation was quickly mixed with sorrow. Only two of her pilot’s fighter’s transponders were still functioning. Spotting Starling Two gave her some relief, but it was only fleeting. She had lost six more pilots. We have done what you asked, Georgia thought towards Becket, her brother, and the pilots of Salamanca’s fleet. It is up to you now.

*

IS Trident

“Inform Salamanca it is time,” Becket ordered calmly from her command chair.

Becket’s COM officer Lieutenant Rodgers sent her order to Salamanca via the gravimetric COM. As soon as Salamanca got the order, his fleet sprang into life on the holo display. All seven hundred of his remaining ships broke orbit. More significantly, two thousand fighters lifted off from their hangers in orbit around Bastion. They were joined by another five hundred from Capricornus. All settled onto a course for the one thousand ships Lvant had left near Bastion to watch the fleet base.

Jonathan glanced at Becket, expecting a look of satisfaction on her face. Yet, she was still as impassive as ever. Thanks to her maneuvers, Lvant’s main fleet that was still pursuing her ships was now well out of support range of the Protectorate forces near Bastion. Unless the Bastion fleet wanted to be hammered by thousands of fighters, they would have to retreat. Yet, that would open a wide door for Becket to run through. Lvant’s only other option was to launch what was left of the fighters in his main fleet. Within three minutes, that was exactly what Trident’s sensors began to detect. Jonathan held his breath as he watched the number of new contacts rise. Too many, and Becket’s plan could still fail. When it stopped at one thousand one hundred, he again glanced at the Admiral. Still she gave nothing away. Instead, she watched as Lvant’s fighters raced away to support his smaller fleet. She only spoke to give new course changes when they were needed.

One and a half hours later and the dangerous part of Salamanca’s part in the plan began. Having the longer range, the smaller Protectorate fleet designated Sierra One opened fire. Salamanca’s ships fired soon after. The Imperial fleet’s salvo was barely half the size of the one Sierra One fired. Yet, Salamanca’s fighters had the potential to even the odds. Already ahead of the first salvo of missiles, they were being caught up fast as they made as if they were going to strike the Protectorate ships right after the Imperial missies struck home. As a result, the four hundred fighters Sierra One launched and the eleven hundred from Lvant’s main fleet joined up and moved to intercept them. Hundreds from each side were blasted apart as both groups smashed into one another. Then, instead of turning and launching missiles, the Imperial fighters continued on. Yet, as soon as they were out of laser range of the Protectorate fighters, they began to turn away from Sierra One. Within seconds, their true targets became apparent. Though they were halfway across the system, the Imperial fighters turned their noses towards the Protectorate freighter fleet.

Realizing what was going on, Sierra One immediately began to change course to cut off the fighters’ path. Lvant’s fleet also abandoned chasing Becket’s ships, and they too scrambled to get into a blocking position. Sierra One was partially successful, though Salamanca had timed it perfectly. At just the moment when Sierra One was able to briefly bring the large Imperial fighter force into range of their point defenses, Salamanca’s first missile salvo crashed into them. Ignoring the immediate danger, Sierra One focused most of its fire on the fighters. At least a couple of hundred were shot down as they rushed past. Then, they were free. Nothing stood between them and the freighter fleet, for despite moving as fast as they could, it was clear on the holo plot Lvant’s fleet couldn’t bring them into range, despite attempting a gravity boost from the system’s sixth planet. Unhindered, the Imperial fighters accelerated as hard as they could for twenty minutes and then cut their engines, disappearing from the holo display, as they saved fuel and coasted up to the freighters.

Meanwhile, Sierra One took a battering from Salamanca’s first salvo. Yet, they were able to return the favor. As soon as his fighters had revealed their true target, Salamanca had ordered his ships to turn and run back to Bastion. Sierra One was able to slam three salvos into them before they reached the safety of the fleet base’s large point defensive fire. Eighty ships were lost. With Lvant having given up on them, however, Becket was able to give the order to set course for Bastion to more than make up for the losses.

Over the course of the next three hours, the remaining eighteen hundred Imperial fighters occasionally reappeared on the holo display as they altered their trajectories slightly. The Protectorate freighter fleet was trying to run to the nearest shift passage. However, they had come too far into the inner system to escape. It was easy for the fighters to build up enough momentum to hunt them down.

Despite watching from half a system away, when the fighters caught up to their quarry, it was easy for Jonathan to imagine what was happening. First, five hundred fighters charged the three hundred Protectorate escorts. They overwhelmed the small Protectorate warships, slamming missiles into almost every one of them. The rest of the attack wing ignored the survivors and tore into the freighters. A bloodbath ensued. The freighters had only the most limited point defenses, nowhere near enough to shoot down all the anti-matter missiles that were fired at them. Hundreds of freighters succumbed to the missiles.

Not done yet, however, the Imperial fighters closed to laser cannon range. Whilst the freighters that were left desperately used their meagre point defenses to try and shoot them down, the fighters worked in groups of four or five against target after target. Pummeling a freighter’s engines with laser beams, they would disable it, then they would swing around again and focus their fire on the middle of the ship. Lasers burnt through its armor and ripped open its inner hull, spilling its cargo out into space and causing secondary explosions that either blew the freighter apart or broke it up into wreckage. Not being able to put out enough thrust to outrun the fighters, not a single freighter survived. Each and every one was hunted down and blasted apart, as per Becket’s orders.

When the carnage was finally over, the fighters turned back into the inner system. Those that had the fuel to make it back to Bastion set course for the fleet base. Others had to settle for heading to Capricornus while the majority made for other locations. As Becket had anticipated, they had sacrificed getting home for destroying more freighters. As best they could then, in small groups, the Imperial fighters made for asteroid fields or comets or other orbital bodies they could use to hide in until they could be picked up.

As they did, the tension on Trident’s bridge began to grow after the elation at seeing Lvant’s supply fleet being destroyed. The entire Imperial fleet’s serviceable fighter strength had been reduced to the survivors of Wing Commander Sommers’ fighters, a force of less than one hundred and fifty Hellcats. Jonathan felt like he held his breath for the entire hour it took Lvant’s main fleet to rendezvous with Sierra One. When they did, his whole body stiffened. If Lvant wanted, he still had the strength to strike at Bastion. In just twelve hours, Capricornus’ orbit would take it out of supporting range of the fleet base. Yet, you will have no supplies, Jonathan thought towards Lvant. You will have no way to repair the ships that take any damage, nor additional munitions or fuel to help you hold the system if more Conclave fleets finally come.

Almost as one, everyone on Trident’s bridge sat forward in their command chairs. The combined Protectorate fleet was changing course. It was turning towards the outer system! Jonathan’s eyes widened. His mouth opened as he turned to shout out what he was seeing. Lieutenant Farnsworth beat him to it. “They’re turning towards the Gift shift passage, Admiral! They are turning!”

“Indeed, it appears they are, Lieutenant,” Becket said as a small smile spread across her lips. “I think everyone can see as much.”

Jonathan had been looking at Becket as she spoke. Just before she had opened her mouth, a look of relief had momentarily appeared. It had been quickly replaced by her amusement at Farnsworth, but he had spotted it all the same. As quickly as her amusement had come, it too disappeared, and a fresh grim expression dominated Becket’s features. “Bring us into orbit around Bastion. Our priority is getting every combat capable ship refueled at once. Instruct Salamanca to send his carriers out to begin picking up his fighters. We need them back as soon as possible. I want as many ships as we can get ready to be able to pursue Lvant’s fleet by the end of the day. We have an important decision before us, either we chase Lvant today, or wait for reinforcements. Whatever we decide, the fleet must be ready. We have won a small victory here today, but this war hangs on the Gift. Get to work, everyone.”

Jonathan nodded as he stared at the retreating Protectorate fleet. Then his eyes moved to Salamanca’s ships. Despite the jubilation he felt at having played a part in lifting the siege on Bastion, Becket’s words gave him a sinking feeling. The whole point of liberating Bastion had been to free Salamanca’s fleet so they could try and reopen the Gift. Yet, Salamanca had less than half of his fifteen hundred ships left. With Lvant falling back to the Gift, presumably to use the supply chain of the Protectorate fleet based there, the Gift was now even better defended. He doesn’t have to take Bastion, Jonathan thought. As long as he keeps the Gift closed, he will win this war sooner or later.

Jonathan doubted Lvant was thinking that way right at that very moment. No doubt the Protectorate Admiral was in a rage at having been forced to retreat. But he will realize it sooner or later. And then what will we do? Jonathan asked as he glanced back at Becket. She had already worked miracle after miracle, but how could she overcome such odds? With Lvant’s ships added to those they had already observed defending the Gift, the Imperial forces this side of the Gift were outnumbered six to one.

Chapter 36

To sacrifice yourself for some distant unknown Imperial citizens is a very difficult thing for a naval officer to do, but for one’s friends and family, that is not so hard.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, Bastion orbit, (five hours later).

“That’s crazy!” Jonathan snapped at Georgia. “It’s suicide. For you and your pilots!”

Georgia had been pacing back and forth across his small quarters as she had explained her plan. She stopped dead at the word suicide. “I can do it. I know I can.” She waved a hand angrily at Jonathan. “And don’t talk to me about suicide missions, that seems to be what your staff officers assign us every other day. We pilots know we are expendable.”

Jonathan shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. And no one thinks you are expendable. But, it’s a one in a million chance, and we’d not just be risking your fighters. If you failed, the entire fleet would be trapped and forced to fight a losing battle.”

“As opposed to what?” Georgia asked. “I may not be a ship commander, but I can read the odds as well as you. Whatever Becket tries, the fleet is going to be in great danger. At least my way, there is a chance we could get the Gift reopened. Look, here are the simulations I have run with what’s left of my squadron. It is doable.” Pulling a portable holo projector out of her pocket, Georgia set it on Jonathan’s small desk and activated it. At fast speed, it ran through a simulated assault on the Protectorate fleet at the Gift.

Jonathan watched intently. Though it seemed to work, he suspected there were several assumptions built into the simulation to bend it in Georgia’s favor. “How many simulations did you run to get it to work?”

Georgia’s eyes flicked down, but then rose back up fiercely. “Enough that I know the risks. Yet, I am still here, aren’t I?”

Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re my sister. I don’t want to see you killed.”

Georgia’s eyes flashed again. “You are also the Imperial Heir. A fleet of over a thousand Imperial ships are stuck behind enemy lines, and six allied species’ futures are at risk. You have more important things to be thinking about than me. This is a viable strategy. All I’m asking is that you consider it and present it to Admiral Becket at the strategic planning meeting.”

“Me?” Jonathan asked in surprise. “Have you not shared it with your Wing Commander?” As soon as he asked, he realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. I forgot about Sommers,” he said as Georgia’s face darkened. “Who is the senior commander of Becket’s fighters now?”

“You’re looking at her,” Georgia said, her face full of loss. “I’m the most senior Flight Leader left. That is why I needed to run this past you. I don’t want it sounding like a quest for glory or some gung-ho pilot bravado if I suggest it. I believe this can work. Now, will you look at it seriously with me, please?”

Jonathan sighed again; his sister had hit a nerve. The Imperial fleet was in serious danger. If there was even a chance Georgia’s idea could work, he had to examine it, no matter the risk it would put his sister in. “Fine, pass the holo display here,” he said as his sister smiled for the first time since entering his quarters.

An hour and several debates later, Jonathan and Georgia walked together to Trident’s main briefing room for the strategic planning meeting Becket had called. About thirty Admirals, Commodores, senior Captains, and command staff all gathered into the large room.

“Thank you for coming,” Albright, Becket’s Chief of Staff said. “I know the last few hours have been hectic indeed. Most of our ships are finishing off taking on fuel or carrying out emergency repairs. So, we only have a short time to make our plans. We strongly believe Lvant is on his way to the Gift to reinforce the fleet there.” Albright paused for a moment and glanced at Becket. When his Admiral nodded, he continued. “Which means we have a decision to make. Our fuel and supplies are starting to run out. We have had a number of unconfirmed reports of other Protectorate fleets probing the Conclave’s southern colonies. Either we make for the Gift and attempt to open the wormhole, or we fall back to Conclave space and assist them in defending their borders.”

Jonathan stared around at the gathered officers in surprise. He felt Georgia shift uncomfortably beside him. Albright was talking about abandoning Bastion. After everything they had done to help defend it! Commodore Matthews gave voice to what many were feeling. “What about the fleet base here and Constellation fort? They are still vital strategic locations.”

When Albright hesitated, Becket stood. “They are,” she agreed. “But only in the long run if we can get the Gift reopened. Right now, Bastion only serves as an anchor holding us back. Our ships are the only force we have that can open the Gift; we cannot waste them defending this base. As I see it, we have just two options. Either we strike at Lvant’s fleet now with the forces we have, or we seek to help the Conclave species and so free up more of their ships to come and aid us. Either way, there is a very real risk we will fail and so be trapped in this sector of space forever. Not to mention, we may likely be brought to battle and defeated by one Protectorate fleet or another. This is therefore a decision that will impact us all. I wish to hear all of your input before I make my mind up. So please, you all have permission to speak freely.”

“As much as I want to get the Gift reopened,” Matthews replied. “I feel we have to be realistic. If Lvant adds his fleet to that already at the Gift, there will be over five thousand, five hundred Protectorate ships there. How can we defeat them with just fifteen hundred of our own?”

“We have beaten worse odds before,” Salamanca pointed out. “And we don’t know we won’t be facing worse odds if we head into Conclave space. You fought off one Protectorate fleet, but there could be three or four more for all we know. That no reports at all have come from Conclave space for several weeks now is not a good sign. We could fall back there, only to find ourselves drawn into a theatre we may never get out of.”

Matthews looked at the holo map of local space being projected by the briefing room’s main holo display for several seconds. He nodded, conceding the point. “We may get drawn in to further fighting, but if that is the case, then it may be that the Conclave species need us. If we waste our strength now against the Gift, even if we succeeded, we could return to find the Conclave species already conquered.”

Matthews’ words drew out counter arguments from two Commodores. Then one senior dreadnaught captain spoke largely in favor of taking the fleet into Conclave space to look for more help. Others suggested Becket retreat to the Nanee Empire and seek their assistance. A more vocal group again spoke against the move, arguing, correctly in Jonathan’s opinion, that the Nanee didn’t yet have the fleet numbers to tip the scales in favor of Becket’s ships. Having just been liberated from Karacknid control twenty years ago, the Nanee were still very much building up their fleet numbers. Jonathan wasn’t even sure if they had the tanker capacity or training to support their fleet on a long-range mission beyond their own borders.

For about half an hour, Becket allowed the conversation to go back and forth as almost everyone spoke their mind. For his part, Jonathan was content to stay quiet and listen. He was all too aware that he didn’t have the experience to speak authoritatively, and nor did he want anyone to think they had to listen to him simply because of who his father was.  Eventually, Becket did speak again, moving to bring the conversation to a close. “And what about our esteemed ally?” she asked as she turned to face where Shraw sat. “You have been quiet so far. I have never known you to hold your opinions in.”

Shraw peeled back his lips to reveal large razor-sharp teeth. “You are correct, Admiral. I have been thinking carefully about this. You know me, I am not one to run from a fight, but my species is not so bloodthirsty that we do not weigh up our prospects first. My gut tells me we will only get one chance at reopening the Gift. Our enemy knows how important it is. If we are going to make the attempt, then we must be as certain of victory as we can be.”

Becket smiled at her old friend. “You have still not informed us which path you would advise that we take.”

Shraw didn’t speak for several seconds. When he did, a pin drop could be heard between his words as everyone in the briefing room leaned in to listen. “At the Gift, there are no planetary bodies, no asteroid fields, or comets. There will be no fancy tricks we can use to pull the Protectorate ships out of position. It will be a straight-up fight, our ships against theirs. With their numerical advantage, I can’t see a way where we won’t be hammered into pieces before we can get anywhere near their anti-eddy producing ships. I hate the idea of leaving this system we have fought for, and I fear we may find little additional help in my species’ worlds. But, lacking a concrete strategy for beating Lvant’s fleet, retreating to find help is the only option I feel we can responsibly take. I am sorry, Admiral; I know these are not the words you wished to hear.”

The mood in the conference room took a nosedive at Shraw’s assessment. Even Becket didn’t immediately reply. Instead, she shared a glance with her Chief of Staff. Jonathan felt his own confidence deflate. Shraw’s caution made perfect sense, how could a fleet of fifteen hundred ships take on over five thousand? But, falling back from Bastion and further away from the Gift felt like giving up on ever getting the wormhole open. A dig in his ribs made him turn sharply towards Georgia. While everyone else around him looked downcast, there wasn’t a hint of defeat on her face. Instead, she gestured with her head towards Becket. Jonathan shook his head slightly, causing Georgia to instantly glare at him. “What if there was a way to do it,” he said hastily, knowing from her look that a far harder dig to his side was seconds away.

“What was that?” Becket asked as every head turned to Jonathan.

Jonathan looked away from Georgia, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized what he had said. “There may be a way,” he replied far more meekly.

“Speak up, who is that?” Becket asked as her eyes roamed over where Jonathan and Georgia sat.

When Jonathan hesitated, he got another elbow in his ribs. “It is me, Admiral, Captain Somerville.”

“And you have an idea on how we could attack the Gift?” Becket pushed.

“It’s my sister’s idea really, Flight Captain Somerville, but she has convinced me it may be doable,” Jonathan explained.

“Well, out with it, Captain, you’re the one who has got us all into this mess, I’ll be very impressed if you have a way out for us as well,” Becket said.

Tentatively at first, and then with more confidence, Jonathan outlined what Georgia had come up with. As soon as he was done, Becket, Salamanca, Shraw and several Commodores started asking him some questions. He didn’t really have any answers, but Georgia came to his rescue. As she answered, she spoke with a confidence he hadn’t been able to summon. Listening to her almost as an observer, Jonathan found his own belief in the plan growing. Around him, he sensed the same coming from the other officers. It was a long shot, something he guessed his father would call a Hail Mary play. The thought made Jonathan smile. A Hail Mary play was exactly the kind of thing his father excelled in.

“Well,” Becket said when the questions finally dried up. “I don’t know about you lot, but I like the sound of Flight Captain Sommerville’s plan. It could cost us everything, but it might just be the best shot we will ever get at this. What does everyone say?”

Understandably, everyone turned to Admiral Shraw. His words had deflated the growing movement towards heading straight for the Gift before. Everyone wanted to know what he thought now. Shraw’s tongue flicked in and out several times as he tasted the room. “This plan places a great deal of responsibility on the shoulders of a handful of pilots. All our lives will be tied up with the success of their mission. Their skills, or lack thereof, will determine the future of my species and our allies. Are you confident they can pull this off, Admiral?”

Becket turned and stared at Georgia. Though Jonathan knew she wasn’t looking at him, he suddenly felt full of nerves. Beside him, however, Georgia raised her chin and gave Becket a gentle nod. Becket tuned back to Shraw. “I am, Admiral. Flight Leader Somerville is the best pilot I have ever seen. Her father has pulled us out of tighter spots in the past. I believe she will live up to her name.”

Shraw flicked his tongue out a couple of more times, this time in Georgia’s direction. “Very well, then,” he eventually said. “I trust your judgment, Admiral. If it is your will to proceed to the Gift, then I will back you to the very end.”

Shraw’s words burst the tension in the room. First Salamanca, then Matthews, and then the rest of the senior commanders also voiced their approval of the plan. Within a minute, Becket was giving her officers a wide smile. “It seems we have come to a decision,” she said to them. “I wished for us to move against Lvant immediately, though I had no concrete plan yet. It seems we now have one, and we are united in it. There is still much to work out, and we must begin converting all the freighters we have at once. But, as soon as we can, we will move on the Gift, for I feel we must move to open the wormhole as soon as possible. We may never get another chance. Let us get back to our ships and get to work then. I will have my staff officers go through Flight Leader Somerville’s plan with a fine-toothed comb and then we will send it to you all. We may have time to run some simulations before we break orbit. But if not, we will be drilling out this plan extensively on the journey. Thank you all for your input, and good luck to each of us in what is to come!”

Taking Becket’s words as a dismissal, the officers around Jonathan and Georgia started to get up. Some came over to shake Jonathan’s or Georgia’s hands. Most moved quickly to get back to their ships. Albright pushed through the crowd and caught Jonathan’s eye. He nodded to Georgia and then gestured for Jonathan to follow him. Taking hold of Georgia’s elbow, Jonathan led her to one side of the briefing room where Becket, Salamanca, and Shraw were talking quietly together, their heads almost touching.

When Albright cleared his throat, they broke apart. “Ah,” Becket said as she greeted them with a warm smile. “Our two chief strategists.”

“They have certainly inherited their father’s predilection for ballsy plans,” Salamanca said.

“The question is,” Shraw added as his tongue flicked out towards Georgia, “Is this really possible? You must be some pilot to think you can pull it off.”

“I am placing my own life on the line,” Georgia said neutrally. “I cannot give a clearer statement of how I rate my chances of success.”

“But, you are young,” Shraw said. “I was your age once. I didn’t see things quite as clearly as I do now.”

“My sister cannot help her age,” Jonathan said, feeling he had to come to her aid. “Neither of us can, but we have presented a plan that we believe has a chance. That is all we can do.”

“And I can vouch for her skills,” Becket added. “She is the best pilot we have. The best I have ever seen,” Becket added as she held Georgia’s gaze. “I believe she can do it. My question is, what about the rest of your pilots?”

“We will take losses. Heavy losses,” Georgia replied. “That is our job. But it is also our job to get the mission done. My pilots are up to it, Admiral, I promise you that.”

Becket nodded slowly. “I do not like your plan. It will leave us all at Lvant’s mercy, but I cannot deny I feel an irresistible force driving me back to the Gift. We must retake it at all costs, and quickly. You plan is the best option we have. I am counting on you to not let us down.”

“I won’t, Admiral,” Georgia said as she stiffened. “I have been training for this my whole life. Everything my father and mother raised me to be has led to this. I will see it through.”

Becket nodded and turned to Shraw. The reptilian’s tongue flicked out one more time. “I am satisfied,” he said after a moment. “If this must be done, I will entrust my ships to the daughter of Emperor Somerville.”

Becket placed a hand on Shraw’s and Georgia’s shoulders. “Then let us hope we can pull this off, for it doesn’t bear thinking about what will become of this sector if we fail.”

Chapter 37

At the end of the day, when all the tactics and maneuvers are over, Lord Nelson’s advice is still the surest of all; ‘No Captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of the enemy.’

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, 9th January 2510 AD, (twelve days later).

“There they are,” Albright said as Trident and the Allied fleet jumped out of shift space a considerable distance from the Gift wormhole.

Collectively, the officers on Trident’s bridge took a deep breath. Their worst-case scenario was being confirmed before their very eyes. It appeared every single one of Lvant’s ships had retreated to the Gift. Five thousand three hundred Protectorate warships were visible to Trident’s sensors. All of them had their active sensors probing space around them as they guarded the approaches to the Gift. Where the wormhole event horizon had been, there was a tight cluster of five hundred ships. At their center, three large ships stood out because of the waves of strange gravimetric energy they were giving off. Jonathan recognized them immediately. They were identical to Commodore Gifosous’ ship. He highlighted them on the holo display. “There are our targets, Admiral. They have three of them.”

“No more than we anticipated, at least,” Becket replied. She clapped her hands together and raised her voice. “Well, I guess there is nothing else to do but to get to it. Set course for those three ships. Maximum acceleration. Let’s let them know we have arrived. And begin launching all our drones.”

Jonathan nodded as officers around him began to send out orders to the rest of the fleet. There was no need for Becket to share any words of encouragement or inspiration. Everyone knew their job. They could all see the odds they were facing. They also knew the only way any of them would ever see home again was if they could reopen the wormhole. That was all the motivation they needed.

Within moments, Trident began to surge into the system. She was accompanied by fourteen hundred Imperial and Gramrian warships; every ship from Becket’s, Commodore Matthews’, Admiral Shraw’s, and Rear Admiral Salamanca’s fleets that could match Trident’s acceleration rate. At the same time, modified recon drones began to launch from the ten carriers in the midst of the fleet. The drones looped around the fleet just like fighters would and formed up into squadrons of twelve. Knowing the gravimetric waves given off by all the Allied warships’ and recon drones would be immediately picked up by the Protectorates, Jonathan watched their fleet closely. Becket’s ships had one purpose; to draw out as many of Lvant’s ships as possible.

Surprisingly, given how far away Becket had jumped her ships out of shift space, the Protectorates didn’t react immediately. They took their time to decide how to respond. As Shraw had explained at the senior commanders meeting, there were no planetary bodies Becket could use to trick Lvant with, nor was there any point in Becket trying to outmaneuver the Protectorate fleet with a series of elaborate course changes. Lvant had no need to move his fleet. All he had to do was guard the three anti-eddy ships. He knew that, and he knew Becket knew that as well.

As a result, Becket’s charge was obviously not a feint. She was rushing towards the Gift as fast as she could in an effort to get into energy weapon range with her ships and blast apart the anti-eddy ships. There was nothing else she could do but build up such a speed that she had a chance to race past the defenders, at least with her warships. Fully aware of this, Lvant took his time moving the bulk of his ships away from the wormhole. Leaving one thousand behind to remain with the five hundred in close formation with the anti-eddy ships, he took four thousand out to block Becket’s fleet. He was making it clear that if Becket wanted to get into energy weapon range of the anti-eddy ships, she would first have to take her fleet right past his.

“How many carriers has he brought with him?” Becket asked.

“It looks like half,” Albright answered, a look of disappointment on his face. If Becket shared his thoughts, she didn’t show it.

Jonathan did, however. For his sister’s sake, he had been hoping for more. To add to his concern, hundreds of active recon drones began to be launched from Lvant’s fleet and the ships still at the wormhole. “He is looking for a fighter assault,” Jonathan said, his voice rising in concern. “Does he know?”

“I think not, Captain,” Becket replied as she flashed him the smallest of smiles. It did more than Jonathan thought it would have to reassure him. “But Lvant has been hurt enough already by our fighters. I imagine he doesn’t want to be outflanked by them again. It is a precaution, but a worrying one, nonetheless. It changes nothing, though. We have our mission, and we will play our part.”

For the next hour and a half, the Allied fleet powered into the system reaching their maximum velocity. After coming out to meet the Allied fleet, Lvant actually started moving his ships back towards the Gift to lengthen the time it would take Becket’s ships to close to energy range. As soon as they came into missile range, the four thousand Protectorate ships opened fire. “Begin our defensive preparations,” Becket ordered once the massive salvo began to hurtle towards them.

At once, hundreds of PD drones were launched by the larger capital ships. Lancer frigates and converted PD freighters moved ahead of the fleet. The rest of the fleet then reformed into a tight ball with multiple overlapping fields of fire. When they came into range, they fired two salvos of long-range mark VII missiles. Instead of firing a third, however, their missile tubes waited. Then just before the Protectorate missiles came into defensive range, each ship fired one missile. Ten seconds later, they fired a second. The process continued without end. When the first missiles reached their designated coordinates, they detonated their standard thermo-nuclear warheads. Ten seconds after the explosions, the next missiles arrived at the exact coordinates and detonated as well. The result was a chequerboard of explosions that created a wall in front of Becket’s fleet. Any Protectorate missile that tried to fly through the explosions was either destroyed by the massive release of energy or had its sensors fried.

Detecting the wave of explosions, most missiles altered course to move through the open spots in the checkerboard. As soon as they did, all of the Allied point defenses, already trained on those areas, opened fire. Thousands of Protectorate missiles were blown apart. Those that made it through the destructive fire were tracked and hunted down by yet more point defensive weapons. Despite the Allied Fleet’s best efforts, however, Protectorate missiles still reached attack range. Detonating, they each released a grazer beam to burn its way into the Allied ships. Twenty were destroyed or crippled. As Becket’s ships continued their unswerving charge, Lvant sent three more missile salvos crashing into them. Each one took out more ships and opened up deeper holes in the Allied fleet’s formation, further reducing the effectiveness of their defenses.

Despite the losses, despite the danger to his own life, Jonathan’s focus never left his job of working to reform the fleet’s formation as best as possible. The fleet had one mission; to draw as much of Lvant’s attention and fire as possible. Whatever it cost them, that was what they had to pay. As ship after ship was blown apart, Jonathan did his best to block out thoughts of the loss of life. He had to be a machine and simply focus on keeping the fleet’s defenses together as best as possible.

“Admiral, we’re picking up new contacts, it’s Wing Commander Somerville’s fighters!” Farnsworth reported. Everyone on the bridge turned to look. This was the moment they had been waiting for.

Becket’s eyes snapped to a secondary holo display. “The jig is up,” she shouted. “Begin to turn us around!”

Within seconds, the ships of the Allied fleet turned nose over tail and began deceleration burns as they actually tried to get out of missile range of Lvant’s ships. Jonathan’s eyes looked at the new projection of Trident’s course. It would take an age to overcome the momentum they had already built up, and that momentum was still taking them directly towards Lvant’s fleet. No matter what Georgia accomplished, Jonathan doubted anyone on Trident would be around to see it. But we have played our part, Jonathan consoled himself. We don’t matter. It’s all up to her now.

*

“Wing Commander,” a voice said over the wing COM channel. Georgia was still so unused to her temporary rank that it took a second to realize the voice was seeking to speak to her.

“Go ahead, Orange One,” she said after checking who was speaking.

“There is a recon drone at coordinates nine, seven, six, four point eight seven. It’s getting awful close to my squadron. I think it will overcome some of my fighter’s stealth coating in sixty seconds or so.”

Georgia sought out the recon drone. Its path was taking it very close to Orange squadron. Unless it changed course, it was going to discover them. “Hold on, Orange One,” she replied as she watched the drone. Thirty seconds passed, and it didn’t alter its search pattern. That’s it, she thought to herself. They had snuck as close as they were going to. With a finger, she flicked her COM unit to speak to the entire wing. “All fighters, power up engines and let’s begin our attack!” she ordered. As her Hellcat came out of stealth, it was joined by another two thousand identical fighters. Every fighter from Bastion that could be crammed into Becket’s carriers, the freighters that had been converted to hold them, and every dreadnaught launch bay, was under her command. Eight hours ago, the Allied fleet had jumped out of shift space far from the Gift and launched all the fighters. Since then, Georgia had been leading her fighters in towards the Gift.

As soon as her fighter began to increase its acceleration, giving away its position, Georgia’s eyes sought out the Allied fleet on her HUD. Her passive sensors had been informing her some kind of battle had been going on about a light hour from her position. She inhaled sharply when she was presented with an accurate picture of what was going on. Becket’s ships were charging straight for the heart of a large Protectorate fleet. Behind the main Allied force trailed a string of destroyed and damaged ships. On the gravimetric sensors, the Allied fleet began to reverse course. Georgia knew that was in response to her fighters beginning their attack. Still, to her eyes, it didn’t look like Becket was going to get away from Lvant that easily.

Sure enough, over the next thirty minutes, Georgia watched helplessly as missile salvo after salvo crashed into the Allied fleet. The trail of crippled ships falling behind grew substantially, except now that the Allied fleet was trying to pull up and away from Lvant, the damaged ships’ momentum meant they were heading towards the Protectorate ships by themselves. As soon as her fighters had revealed themselves, a thousand fighters had launched from the Protectorate ships. At first, Georgia had thought they might try to rush back to the Gift. The momentum of her fighters meant that would be impossible. Realizing that, the fighters instead charged Becket’s fleet. As they launched an attack coordinated with one of the salvos from their fleet, Georgia grunted, and her hands clenched into fists. Almost a hundred Imperial ships had been blown apart before her very eyes.

The Protectorate fleet didn’t let up. Altering course, it moved to cut off Becket’s line of retreat. Georgia closed her eyes tightly as a tear ran down her cheek. She had accepted the very high chance that she would be killed in what she was about to attempt, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think about her brother dying. Her mind went to her mother and father. She knew it would break them if they received word both of them had been killed at the same time. Snapping her eyes open, Georgia reached out and grabbed her flight stick firmly. There was no way she could get her brother help, nor could she save the rest of Becket’s squadron, but she could make their sacrifice worthwhile. All she had to do was go straight through everything the Protectorate forces were preparing to throw at her.

Determination filling her mind and her voice, she spoke to her attack wing. “Imperial fighter wing, this is Wing Commander Somerville. You all know my name; you all know the history of my family. That history is the history of all our parents. Their generation faced the greatest threat Humanity has ever encountered and didn’t flinch back from what had to be done. Well, now our friends and allies are counting on us. It is our turn to charge into the breach. It is our turn to face down our Empire’s enemies. And I tell you, there are no other pilots I would rather have at my side. So, let us give these Protectorates a show they will not long forget! Are you all with me?”

A wide predatory smile spread across Georgia’s lips as a chorus of battle cries filled the wing’s COM channel. She hadn’t lied. After what the pilots had done in the Bastion system, she wouldn’t have swapped them even for a fighter wing from the Karacknid War. They had bled with her, and now they were all ready to bleed again. Purposefully, Georgia turned her fighter’s sensors away from the Imperial Fleet. Instead, she focused on the fifteen hundred ships protecting her three targets. The Protectorate forces were already preparing for her arrival. Eighteen hundred enemy fighters had been launched. Half were moving forward to engage her. Following closely behind them were one thousand enemy warships. The rest of the force opposing her, five hundred ships and nine hundred fighters hung back close to the three anti-eddy ships. They may be concerned we have another fighter force closing from a different angle, Georgia guessed. She wished it were true, but it wasn’t. Her fighters were all that were left to Becket.

Taking a deep breath, Georgia carefully analyzed the various elements of the enemy fleet. Then she began to assign targets and attack plans to her various squadrons. On her command, six hundred fighters moved ahead of the rest of her wing. Slowing her Hellcat, Georgia allowed her lead force to open up a gap to her main force, then she began to accelerate hard once more.

Her lead squadrons took the limited training she had been able to give them and used it well. Splitting into groups of three, they began to carry out the overlapping evasive maneuvers Jonathan had first taught her. Then they crashed into the nine hundred Protectorate fighters that were charging them. A few Hellcats fired off laser beams, but the majority focused on their maneuvers. Only when the Protectorate fighters zipped by them did they stop their group maneuvers, spin, and quickly ripple off both of their anti-fighter missiles, and then send laser beams hurtling after the Protectorate fighters.

Both sides took heavy losses, but crucially, the Protectorate fighters’ formation was wrecked as almost every fighter had to take evasive maneuvers to dodge the missiles that hunted them down. As Georgia’s larger force crashed into them, their fire was disjointed and haphazard. Not a single one of her fighters fired off their missiles, nor did they break out of their own overlapping maneuvers. Instead, they took the losses the Protectorate fighters inflicted on them, and simply continued on towards their objective. As soon as they were out of range with their plasma cannons, the Protectorate fighters began to decelerate and turn to give chase. Georgia dismissed them from her mind, they were already out of the fight.

Instead, she checked on the status of her wing. Her lead force had lost one hundred and twenty fighters. Re-valuating their strength, she chose a group of Protectorate warships as their primary targets. Then she released another two hundred fighters from her main force and assigned them new targets as well. Within minutes, more of her fighters began to die as her lead force entered range of the enemy fleet’s point defenses. Come on, come on, Georgia thought towards her pilots as they dove in and assaulted the Protectorate fleet. Her main force was now just two minutes behind them. She needed them to hit their targets! Despite the losses among her first wave mounting, hundreds got close enough to launch their missiles.

Instead of turning to safety, the fighters followed them in, peppering their targets with laser beams. With most of the missiles targeting one squadron within the enemy fleet, they were easier to shoot down. Yet, as those that made it to their targets detonated, the anti-matter they released ate a hole into the Protectorate fleet’s formation. Into that hole, the second group of squadrons Georgia had detached accelerated. They too released their anti-matter missiles, widening the gap Georgia’s main force was headed for.

For a brief moment, calm descended on the battlefield as the momentum of Georgia’s two forward sections brought them out of range of the Protectorate ships’ defenses. Georgia had just enough time to see that both of them had been devastated. They had accomplished their task, however, for despite the Protectorate ships scrambling to close the hole, they were too slow. That didn’t mean they couldn’t reach Georgia’s fighters with their point defenses, though. The calm came to an abrupt end as soon as the Protectorate ships opened fire. Georgia’s fighters, already carrying out their group evasive maneuvers once again, made no attempt to shoot back. Putting all their effort into being as hard to hit as possible, they flew through the gap that had been opened in the enemy formation. Defensive fire assaulted them all the way into the gap, and then as they flew through it and beyond, the fire continued to pepper them. Georgia sensed explosions all around her, but she couldn’t take her focus from her own maneuvers.

As soon as the fire ceased, however, her eyes darted to one of her cockpit’s secondary screens. She cursed when she saw just seven hundred fighters were left in her force. She had lost nearly half of those that were in formation with her. And it’s not over yet, she thought as her eyes returned to her HUD. Five hundred enemy ships and nine hundred fighters still remained tightly packed around the three anti-eddy ships. “Lead squadrons are to combine and engage the enemy fighters,” Georgia ordered over the wing COM channel, hating herself for asking more of the squadrons who had already taken more losses than her main force. “Get them to engage you, and lead them away from their fleet if you can.”

When the surviving senior pilots from each squadron confirmed her order, Georgia set about assigning targets to the rest of her force. Six more squadrons would help her lead forces in tackling the enemy fighters. The rest would assault the enemy ships in two waves. Right behind the second wave, Red, Hawk, and Starling squadrons would move in to take the anti-eddy ships. When her squadron leaders acknowledged their targets, Georgia changed COM channels to speak to the pilots of Red, Hawk, and Starling squadrons. “This is it, pilots. Everyone else is moving in to clear us a path. Forget about everything else but your primary target. All this will be for naught if we fail. We cannot let our friends down.”

Before most of the pilots could respond, defensive fire from the final Protectorate fleet started to reach out towards them. Ahead of her, Georgia could already see her lead fighters engaging the Protectorate fighters. Trust them, she told herself as she let go with her mind and entered the trancelike state that now came easily to her. Her pilots all had their orders. All she could do now was fly to the best of her ability, which was exactly what she did. As Protectorate and Imperial fighters blew each other apart, anti-matter missiles ripped open capital ships, and point defensive lasers beams struck back at the attackers, Georgia drowned it all out. Instead, every fiber of her being concentrated on the next evasive maneuver, and then the next. When her shields flared and then failed from several hits, her heart rate didn’t flutter. As Hellcats all around her exploded, she didn’t even feel a shiver of fear for herself. Time slowed down as she twisted and weaved faster and tighter than she had ever before.

Then, all of a sudden, she found herself in the midst of the Protectorate warships. The scene was one of mayhem. Hundreds of ships were exploding or falling out of formation, heavily damaged. Between them, Imperial and Protectorate fighters chased each other. The warships that were still combat-capable were firing hundreds of thousands of laser beams in all directions. Confronted with several ships in her way, Georgia had to throw her Hellcat about wildly to avoid a collision, even as laser beams tried to shoot her down. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the Protectorate warships parted and before her were her targets. “All fighters, take your shots!” Georgia ordered as soon as she saw them. To her relief, missiles appeared from her left and right even as she fired her one anti-ship missile at the middle anti-eddy ship.

As if from nowhere, thirty enemy fighters swooped in from above them as soon as the missiles were away. They immediately opened fire on the anti-ship missiles. Georgia cursed and quickly sent her two anti-fighter missiles after them. As soon as they were away, she flicked a button on her flight stick to activate her laser cannons. The nine other surviving pilots from Starling, Hawk, and Red squadrons did the same. Tearing into the enemy fighters with a desperation she had never felt before, Georgia screamed as she blasted apart fighter after fighter. In quick succession, she shot down four of the fighters trying to take out her missiles. They were so focused on hitting their targets, they had abandoned protecting themselves. Her scream increased as she saw several missiles being destroyed in her peripheral vision. In the space of five seconds, she shot down another two fighters. Then she found there were no more targets.

She immediately sought out the anti-ship missiles her squadrons had fired on her HUD. Four were still heading towards two of the targets, but only two were heading towards the middle anti-eddy ship. One of them was hers. “Follow the missiles in,” she ordered her pilots. Doing the same, she began to fire laser beams at the capital ships to throw off their defensive fire. To her horror, the point defenses of the anti-eddy ships began to take out the incoming missiles. One of the missiles targeting the middle ship was struck and destroyed, leaving only Georgia’s missile. As if it was channeling Georgia’s skill, it twisted and weaved through everything fired at it. But then, the three protectorate ships did something Georgia never expected.

The other two ships gave up trying to protect themselves and focused all their fire on Georgia’s missile. Its maneuvers allowed it to last for a couple of seconds, but then it was blown apart. The other missiles rushed in and destroyed their two targets. Georgia barely registered the detonations, however. Her mouth had fallen open. She was aghast. She had failed. So many had died, and yet she had still failed!

“Starling Leader, cover my back, I’m going in,” the familiar voice of Starling Two said over the squadron channel.

Full of disappointment, it took Georgia a second to comprehend what Starling Two was saying. As soon as she did, she opened her mouth to order her friend to pull away. The cold rational part of her brain stopped her. Starling Two was doing exactly what needed to be done. What I should be doing, Georgia realized as she gunned her engines and joined Starling Two’s race towards the sole remaining anti-eddy ship. “You watch my back, Starling Two, that’s an order,” she said.

“Sorry, Flight Leader, no can do,” Starling Two replied. “This is my mission. You have to get your message through the wormhole. Make them pay for what this has cost us.”

“No!” Georgia screamed even as she continued to fire laser beams at the anti-eddy ship. Beside her, Red Four and Hawk Seven did the same. Starling Two was so focused on her maneuvers she wasn’t bothering to fire.

The Protectorate ship took a couple of seconds to realize what was happening. When it did, it concentrated all its fire on Starling Two. It was too late, however, for it took Jenny just four seconds to cover the final distance to the enemy warship. In the blink of an eye, her Hellcat smashed into the anti-eddy ship. It punched through its armor and hull even as the Hellcat began to disintegrate.  Deep within the warship’s hull the fighter’s reactor struck a bulkhead and was vaporized. The explosive force travelled up a main power relay, straight to the warship’s three reactors. In one gigantic flash, the warship disappeared from Georgia’s HUD. Her Hellcat was peppered as it flew through the debris. Warning sounds filled her cockpit as strikes caused damage all over her fighter.

Georgia was gripping her flight stick so hard that blood began to run down her palm as her nails dug into it. Tears for her friend and for all the pilots who had been lost started to run down Georgia’s cheeks, even as she forced her eyes to remain open. Starling Two’s words still rang in her ears. She had one last job to do.

As if she had summoned it herself, the wormhole’s event horizon, no longer being held shut by the anti-eddies, erupted back into life in front of her. Georgia angled her fighter towards it and began to prime the modified recon drone that was attached to her fighter where she would have normally carried a second anti-ship missile. Powering up, its flight software began to calculate the optimal path through the wormhole. Then it automatically launched itself.

In five seconds, it reached the wormhole and disappeared. Georgia waited just long enough to see it enter the event horizon before pulling away from the wormhole. None of her fighters were equipped to pass through the event horizon. Instead, she turned back to the ongoing battle all around her. What was left of her wing was still bitterly engaged with the Protectorate fleet and fighters. Behind them, Georgia could also see the larger Protectorate fleet of almost one thousand ships returning along with the first group of fighters her wing had engaged. They were clearly bent on exacting revenge. There was no sign of Becket’s fleet, but she guessed they were out there somewhere, suffering heavily for pulling so many of Lvant’s fleet away from defending the anti-eddy ships.

Taking a deep breath, Georgia prepared to throw herself back into the fight. Though she hadn’t told Jonathan, she had always feared the mission would be a one-way trip. With so many enemy fighters still buzzing around, ordering her surviving fighters to try and disengage would be a death sentence. Instead, she gave the opposite order over the wing’s COM channel. “All fighters, move closer to the enemy capital ships. Engage enemy fighters at point blank range. Make them hit their own fighters if they want to try and shoot at us. Let’s take as many of them with us as we can.”

Following her own orders, Georgia gunned her fighter’s engines and dove in towards a Protectorate battlecruiser that looked like it had taken an anti-matter missile to its nose. It was still churning out hundreds of laser beams though, and Georgia had to fight with her damaged Hellcat to try and avoid them. Suddenly, two enemy fighters came into view as they darted in front of her, chasing an Imperial fighter. Georgia pressed her trigger, sending twenty laser beams after one. She cursed as they all missed. As they travelled on, they hit the enemy battlecruiser. To Georgia’s utter amazement, the battlecruiser was blown apart right as her lasers hit. One second it was there, firing away, the next its middle sections had been vaporized and its nose and stern were tumbling away from one another. Georgia glanced down at her hand, wondering what on earth she had done.

Crackling from her COM unit made her look at it. Someone was trying to speak on an unencrypted channel. “Imperial fighters,” the unknown voice said. “Fall back to our position. Repeat, fall back to our position.” As her mind struggled to make sense of the order, Georgia’s eyes were drawn to one of her secondary screens by a warning sound. Hundreds of new contacts were appearing behind her. They were being identified as friendlies!

Chapter 38

Though the Karacknid Civil War did not come to an immediate halt, it did end in a series of decisive victories that left no confusion about the eventual winner. Though it took several years to fully mop up those who would not come into line, the large-scale fleet battles that dominated most of the period did come to a decisive end.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Having arrived at the Gift two weeks ago with her fleet, Rear Admiral Davenport had torn herself apart at discovering the wormhole had been closed once again. Emperor Somerville had given her express orders to get to the Gift as soon as possible and back up Admiral Becket. Every day that passed grated on her worse than the previous. For she knew that every day that passed increased the chances she would never see Becket or Salamanca or any of the ships that had gone through the wormhole again. However, her anguish did not mean she had been idle, nor had her faith in Admiral Becket’s capabilities left her. Within a day of arriving at the Gift forts, she had put together a plan for what was to happen the second the wormhole opened again. As a result, even though she was asleep in her quarters when Georgia’s drone came through, her plan immediately sprang into action.

First, eighty destroyers, frigates, and specially armored freighters jumped through the wormhole. Using the freighters as large shields, the frigates and destroyers began to blast away at anything that moved with their heavy laser and plasma cannons. What was left of the five hundred Protectorate ships that had been in close formation with the anti-eddy ships were ravaged by the attack. With their attention focused on Georgia’s fighters, the few that survived the volley unscathed were slow to turn and fire their own energy weapons. A second Imperial volley finished them off before they could fire.

Just thirty seconds after the frigates and destroyers, a full squadron of ten battleships traversed through the wormhole, closely followed by ten carriers. The battleship’s point defenses tore into the nearby Protectorate fighters whilst six squadrons of Hellcats sortied from each carrier. Within three minutes, they swept all the Protectorate fighters from the space around the wormhole. By the time they were done, a further one thousand ships had come through the wormhole. By then, Davenport was on the bridge of her flagship Oblivion. She directed all the fire of her growing fleet towards the second Protectorate squadron that was rushing towards her position. Energy beams and plasma bolts ripped into both fleets. The Protectorate ships stood no chance, however, for while their numbers quickly dwindled, more and more Imperial warships kept coming through the wormhole, more than making up for the ships that were lost. The Imperial fighters, once they had engaged the enemy fighters near the wormhole, ignored the second Protectorate fleet. Davenport had spotted where they were needed far more. Breaking from the battle, they raced away from the wormhole.

*

IS Trident

“They did it!” someone shouted above the din of the bridge’s alarms. “The wormhole is open!”

Despite his despair, Jonathan forced himself to smile. His sister had done it. He had expected she would, but it was a great relief to know that she had. He desperately wished he could confirm her Hellcat was still alive. Yet, Trident had suffered three grazer beam hits and her sensors were seriously compromised. He turned to Becket and shared a smile with his Admiral. Both of them knew their fleet was done for. Becket had miraculously managed to keep Lvant’s fleet from getting close enough to use their more powerful short-range missiles. But, even at long range, the Protectorate Admiral had been hammering them relentlessly.

Almost a third of Becket’s fleet was now nothing more than wreckage, and every salvo destroyed more ships than the last. Much passed between Jonathan and Becket as their eyes locked. For once, he was able to read her face. There was a hint of sadness and disappointment. She didn’t want to die any more than he did. Both emotions were overshadowed by a look of pride. Though it would cost them everything, the fleet had played its part. They had drawn out enough of Lvant’s force to enable Georgia to pull off her victory. Slowly, Jonathan nodded to Becket. They both accepted their fate. They would face it head on.

As the moment passed, Jonathan threw himself back into coordinating what was left of the fleet’s defensive fire. Minutes later, more enemy missiles began to detonate around Trident. Two of the three destroyers left in her flotilla were blown apart. Trident herself suffered a glancing blow which depleted the dreadnought’s just repaired shield. More alarms filled the bridge as additional damage was suffered. When the explosions within the fleet ceased, Jonathan looked out towards Lvant’s fleet, searching for the next missile salvo. He had to look twice, thinking his eyes were deceiving him. Lvant’s ships were pulling away! There was only one explanation.

Jonathan turned towards the Gift. Yet, Trident’s sensors couldn’t make anything out. Taking matters into his own hands, he launched one of Trident’s last recon drones. It took thirty seconds for its sensor to start to feed information back to Trident, but when they did, a loud cheer went up across the bridge. Jonathan found himself joining in as enthusiastically as anyone, for on the holo display were three thousand Allied warships. There was no sign of any of the Protectorate ships or the fighters that had been near their wormhole’s event horizon. Even better, there were three thousand Imperial Hellcats and Crian Fangs charging towards Trident.

After shouting and jumping around for nearly a minute, stress and tension leaving his body suddenly left him feeling zapped. He collapsed back into his command chair. Most other officers did the same. Looking around, it was clear they had all thought their lives were over. Despite a lack of energy, their faces were still elated. We won, Jonathan thought, still grappling to get over his shock. They had reopened the Gift for a second time, and now with three thousand Allied warships holding the Gift, the Protectorate would not be closing it again anytime soon.

Into the quiet that followed everyone’s celebrations, Becket’s calm voice easily carried across the bridge. “I think that is enough jubilation for now,” she said. “We have many hurting and damaged ships out there. We must see to them and our wounded. Lvant and his fleet have already hurt us enough. Let’s not allow any more of our people to die.” As she finished, a hardness came into her tone that made Jonathan sit up straight. With everyone else, he got straight to work organizing rescue efforts.

On occasion, over the next half hour, he did steal a glance at Becket. Each time, he found her staring at Lvant’s fleeing fleet on the main holo display. Her teeth were clenched, and there was an air of danger about her he hadn’t seen before. She is after revenge, Jonathan realized. The realization dulled his relief at having survived. For weeks and weeks now, he had only been thinking of getting back to the Gift and reopening the wormhole. Now they had done it, but the look on Becket’s face told him the war was far from over. In reality, it had barely begun. The fleet’s hardships are only just beginning, Jonathan thought, but so too are Lvant’s. From the intensity in Becket’s eyes, Jonathan knew who’s side he wanted to be on.

*

Six hours later, Jonathan made his way to Trident’s second hanger bay to welcome a surprise guest. After poring through the wrecked ships, searching for survivors and sending the most damaged ships that could safely make the journey through the wormhole back to Earth, Becket had called a Captains’ conference. As he had been going through all the ships that would have officers in attendance, Jonathan had been shocked to see Kestrel listed among them. He had been so busy dealing with the aftermath of the battle that he hadn’t checked what ships were part of Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet. As soon as he saw her, he had rushed to the hangar bay. When the shuttle landed and the First Lieutenant walked down the access ramp, Jonathan couldn’t help breaking out into a wide grin. Reaching out, he pulled Cortez into a firm hug. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Lieutenant. I never thought I’d be seeing any of you again.”

Cortez smiled back at him. “I’m pleased you were wrong, Captain. All of the old crew are eager to see you. We are glad we were able to play a small part in coming to your aid.”

Jonathan was just as keen to see Lydia and the others too, but he was also curious about Kestrel. “How does she handle? How did she do in the battle?”

Cortez’s smile widened. “For a light cruiser, she is fast and maneuverable. We didn’t really get to test out all her PD drones, but her missile tubes and point defenses worked just fine. Our gunners could do with another month or two of intense drills. They’re not quite at the standards we had Achilles at, but they are making progress.”

Jonathan nodded. He hadn’t thought about the responsibilities of commanding a ship for weeks. He had barely even had time to dwell on Achilles’ loss. Cortez’s mention of his previous command still conjured up a sense of sadness, yet it was far duller than he remembered. Instead, he found himself getting excited about the challenges he would face whipping Kestrel’s crew into shape. “We will get them there,” Jonathan assured his First Lieutenant. “I’m sure you have already set an excellent example. She passed her space trials then?”

“With flying colors,” Cortez replied. “R&D wanted to go over her a second time, but the Admiralty deemed every available ship was needed at the Gift.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here,” Jonathan said as he smiled again. He then reached out and placed a hand on Cortez the shoulder. “Though as much as I want you as my First Lieutenant, I am sorry you didn’t get a command of your own. Kestrel should really be yours.”

“There will be other ships, I’m sure,” Cortez said far more nonchalantly than Jonathan would have expected.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

She gave him a wry smile. “Perhaps. I happened to have an interview with your father. It was more than a little daunting. He mainly wanted to speak about you, but at the end, he did commend me and told me I would have my own ship waiting for me the next time Kestrel returns to Earth. So, the sooner we get this war with the Protectorates over, the better.”

Jonathan shook his head. Of course, his father was looking over his shoulder. He smiled at Cortez all the same. “It’s good news, Lieutenant. I’m glad to hear it, though I’m not so sure when we’ll be getting back to Earth. In any case, we need to get to the briefing. I’m sure we’re about to find out what the next stage of this war is going to look like.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Cortez asked as she frowned.

“We’ve been too busy to plan much,” Jonathan said as he started to walk. “But, Admiral Becket has been stewing in her own thoughts ever since Lvant’s fleet jumped out. I imagine she has already decided on a plan.”

When they got to Trident’s main briefing room, it was far fuller than Jonathan had ever seen it. It seemed almost every Captain of a cruiser and above was there. Becket was already standing at the front with Albright, Godwin, Salamanca, Shraw, and Davenport. Quickly, Jonathan found two free seats and sat down with Cortez. As more captains and squadron commanders filtered in, Jonathan looked around for his sister. He saw her enter and stood to wave her over to where he and Cortez were. When she came over, he pulled her into a hug. To his surprise, she gripped him firmly for several seconds. “You saved us all!” he told her as he released her and gave her a wide smile. “I am so sorry about your pilots.”

“We knew what we were getting ourselves in for,” Georgia said. “I am glad I made it. I just wish more of us had. It was a bloodbath until Davenport’s fleet came through.”

Jonathan reached out and squeezed Georgia’s shoulder. “It’s never easy,” he agreed. They locked eyes for a moment, and Jonathan could easily read the pain in Georgia’s eyes despite what he guessed was her best efforts to hide it. He made a mental note to speak to her more after the briefing. She had comforted him after losing Achilles, and despite everything she had been through in the past year, he sensed she needed him now. Before he could say anything more now, however, a silence descended on the room. Jonathan turned to see Becket had stepped out in front of everyone. Quickly, he and Georgia sat down.

“Thank you all for coming so quickly,” Becket said as the last few officers tried to find seats. “We have won an important victory today, one I confess I wasn’t sure we would see. But, we did, in no small part thanks to the efforts of Acting Wing Commander Somerville, her pilots, and Rear Admiral Davenport’s forces. I fear the war with the Protectorate forces is far from over, however. In the past months, they have shown they are firmly resolved to defeat us, for reasons we still do not fully comprehend. We know there was at least one additional Protectorate fleet attacking Conclave worlds, and likely there are others. That is the only explanation why more Conclave ships have not been able to come to our aid.

“Given our victory and the losses Lvant has taken at Bastion and here, I intend for us to continue this war aggressively. Commodore Matthews is going to take our less damaged ships along with a small garrison to Bastion to begin rebuilding the fleet base’s defenses. The rest of us, however, are going to move forward towards the Farvul’vian system and the fleet base from which Lvant launched his invasion.” Becket paused as she looked around the room, gauging everyone’s reaction. Jonathan heard more than one Captain take in a quick breath. If he hadn’t spent the last months with Becket, he imagined he would have been shocked, too. Though he was still surprised, as soon as she said it, he knew it was exactly the kind of thing she would do. Exactly the kind of thing we need to do, he thought as images of all the ships and their crews they had lost filled his mind.

“I have already sent orders for some of the supplies originally destined for the FOBs being set up along the Empire’s southern border to be redirected here,” Becket continued. “We will therefore proceed forward carefully, setting up our own supply bases as we approach the Farvul’vian system. If we can, we are going to take the system and any nearby Rasmorse systems. We will not be conquering them to take for our own, at least unless we have no other choice, but if we threaten their worlds, I am confident it will force the Protectorates to pull back their other fleets that are threatening Conclave systems. It may be that by taking their worlds, we may also force them to the negotiating table.

“This is a senseless war based on lies the Protectorates believe about us. There’s nothing we can do about those lies now, but if we hurt them badly enough, perhaps we can bring this war to a quick conclusion. Commander Albright will talk you through the initial plan we have put together, and then you will split up into your assigned squadrons. Each of us will have a critical role to play if we are to pull this off, and our supply situation will be very tight, but with luck, Lvant and the other Protectorate commanders will not expect a follow-up attack so soon. If we can catch them off guard, we can hopefully take out their fleet base and put an end to whatever plans they are currently making.” Stepping back, Becket gestured for Albright to take over.

“Here is our proposed route of advance,” Albright said as he activated the room’s holo display to project a map of the systems around their wormhole. As he continued, Jonathan listened closely, assessing the route and the strategies and tactics Albright set forth. Given that he and Becket only had a few hours to put together the plan, it was surprisingly detailed. For a full half an hour, Albright laid out exactly what Becket expected of her fleet. “Each of your individual assignments have been sent to your personal datapads,” Albright concluded. “We will split up now into our squadrons and flotillas where your immediate commander will go over your objectives.”

Immediately, the room was full of rustling as everyone pulled out their datapads. Jonathan and Cortez quickly read through their orders, and then looked at each other. Both had a gleam in their eye. Kestrel had been assigned to Davenport’s scouting squadron. They were going to be in the vanguard of the fleet, probing Protectorate systems ahead of the main fleet’s advance. They would be right in the thick of whatever action was to come, which meant they and their crew were going to get the chance to get their own back for what the Protectorates did to Achilles and their friends. This war is only just beginning, Jonathan thought as he recalled when he had first spoken with Lvant in the Farvul’vian system. And this time, we are the ones going on the offensive.

Epilogue

PS Justice, Murstfam system, two hundred light years from Farvul’vian

Vice Admiral Reverus read through the dispatch slowly. He had to control his breathing to stop his anger from getting the better of him. “The fool,” he said out loud. Admiral Lvant had proved himself a capable combat commander, that was why Protectorate High Command has assigned him to command the Rasmorse fleet. But he doesn’t understand strategy! Reverus riled. He was as angry with himself as with Lvant. He had known this for months, and he hadn’t passed on his concerns to the High Command. And you sent Commodore Gifosous ahead to Farvul’vian. That is on you. As inept as he was, Reverus was sure Lvant wouldn’t have acted without having Gifosous’ ships there to close the wormhole.

Tapping his COM unit, Reverus called his Chief of Staff. “Joery, assemble my command staff,” he ordered. “We are going to have to prepare the fleet to leave for Farvul’vian.”

“Leave, Admiral? But our departure date is still months away. We have less than half our expected strength and less of our supplies.”

“I am well aware of that,” Reverus said, but, it appears Admiral Lvant has forgotten. A Human ship visited Farvul’vian. It spooked Lvant and the others. They have begun their attack without us. I fear they will need our aid urgently.”

“I understand, Admiral,” Reverus’ Chief of Staff replied. There was a pause before he spoke again. “That is not good. If Lvant fails…”

“Exactly,” Reverus said, his voice full of frustration. He had spent years climbing up through the Eaglaton Navy, years that had been devoted to protecting the many species his civilization’s leadership believed they had a duty to serve. Yet, now that he was the Admiral in charge of a sector of the Protectorate, that very same species was pulling him into a war he was not yet prepared for. “And, send a transmission back to the homeworld. Inform them that our conflict with the Humans has begun. If all goes well, we should have liberated the Conclave species and the Nanee within the year. Then our borders will be much closer to the Karacknids. They must step up their preparations to confront our real enemy.”

“Understood, Admiral, I will assemble your staff and prepare for those messages to be sent right away. Do you wish any reply sent back to Admiral Lvant?”

Reverus clapped his beak together several times to communicate a negative. “There is little point, he will already have committed himself to whatever plan he and his commanders have come up with. The best we can do is get to Farvul’vian and assess the situation as quickly as we can.”

“Yes, Sir,” Joery replied.

Tapping his COM unit off, Reverus pulled up a map of Rasmorse space and the surrounding civilizations. It would take some time for his fleet to move from its base to the northern part of the sector he was responsible for, and even more to subdue the Humans. But it will be done, and their wormhole will be closed. The feathers on Reverus’ arms stood up as he contemplated what would come next. The Great War his people had been calling for more than a generation now. It was going to take everything his species had to beat the Karacknids, but failure was not an option. Tens of sentient species relied on the Eaglaton Protectorate for their survival. Hundreds more would be liberated from the Karacknids. We will save them all, Reverus told himself. And then we can turn our attention back to the Humans and make sure they can threaten no one else as well. Far from happy at what was developing, yet still confident, Reverus stood as he made to leave his quarters and join his command staff. They had a lot of work to do.

*

Royal Wrath, Kandara system.

Imperator Tanaka-lan sat quietly as his fleet jumped out of shift space. As soon as they detected their quarry, they moved forward as per his orders. The sight of his enemy’s ships made Tanaka-lan’s claws extend from his knuckles. He pierced them deep into the padded cushions on his command chair. The audacity of the two pretenders knew no bounds. It was only matched by their foolishness. For months now, he had been weakening his defenses in and around Gayla, his people’s homeworld.

Since capturing the Imperial palace and sitting himself on the true seat of the Karacknid Imperator, more and more unaligned Karacknids had been flocking to his banner. Taking it back was an opportunity neither of Tanaka-lan’s competitors could pass up, though to even his amazement, his trap had caught two prey for the price of one. Weeks ago, his spies had informed him that both his competitors were preparing fleets to strike at Gayla. Somehow, they had managed to strike a deal together to both take him out. Tanaka-lan was certain both false imperators were planning to backstab each other at the first opportunity. They wouldn’t get the chance, however, he was going to make sure of that.

Over the next three hours, events played out exactly as he had planned. His fleet jumped into the system where his two opponents were planning to rendezvous. Yet, only one of them was currently there. Tanaka-lan had brought a fleet just powerful enough to challenge Fara’man’s fleet. Surging forward with an urgency that suggested Tanaka-lan knew Fara’man had help nearby, Tanaka’lan’s fleet tore into their enemy. Missiles and fighters swarmed around both fleets, and hundreds of ships were destroyed. Right on time, however, Shu’gal’s fleet began to jump into the system. For a few moments, they sat stationary. Tanaka-lan started to fear that Shu’gal intended to watch the battle play out and then move in to defeat whoever was left. Untrustworthy scum, he thought towards his second rival. “The fleet will pull back,” he ordered. “Fall back to Gayla.”

As soon as his ships started to retreat, Shu’gal’s fleet began to pursue. Tanaka-lan smiled. Shu’gal was happy to let Fara’man’s fleet fight and die alone, but now that there was a chance at some glory, he was not going to be left out of things. That was just what Tanaka-lan had been counting on. Quickly, a stern chase developed as both Shu’gal and Fara’man’s fleets tried to take out as many of his warships as possible during the retreat. Tanaka-lan had no concerns for his own safety, however; his flagship Royal Wrath was safely tucked away in the center of his fleet’s formation. With six thousand warships between his superdreadnought and harm’s way, he had nothing to worry about. Even so, he detested the string of destroyed and crippled ships that his fleet left in its wake as his enemies were able to hammer his ships again and again. That was one thing he knew the long civil war had changed in him. Back when he had just been an Admiral, taking losses, even heavy losses, had always been acceptable. Earning the Imperator’s respect and prestige in victory was worth whatever the cost. Now that he was the Imperator, and his Empire had been embroiled in a two-decade-long civil war, he felt the cost of each ship destroyed both in terms of trained warriors and industrial capacity.

The losses were a necessary evil, however, for every ship that was destroyed gave his opponents a little bit more confidence, and it was that confidence that Tanaka-lan planned to throttle them with. As soon as his ships crossed the system’s mass shadow, they jumped into shift space towards Gayla. Tanaka-lan remained on Royal Wrath’s bridge for the entirety of the twelve-hour journey. Within half an hour of his ships arriving, both of his opponents’ ships jumped in behind them. As Tanaka-lan’s fleet raced towards the safety of Gayla’s orbital defenses, Shu’gal and Fara’man pressed in close behind. From the planet itself, the small garrison Tanaka-lan had left behind rushed up to help protect the flagship and keep up the appearance that Tanaka-lan was in fear for his life.

“We will target Shu’gal’s fleet,” Tanaka-lan said as his ships neared the point where he would spring his trap.

“Aye, Imperator,” his Chief Staff Officer replied, and then began to pass on the information to the rest of the fleet.

“We are ready,” the same officer informed Tanaka-lan half an hour later.

Tanaka-lan simply nodded. His gesture unleashed the greatest destructive force he had ever commanded. The Racumin weapons, or whoever they really were, stopped Fara’man and Shu’gal’s fleets in their tracks. Back in orbit around Gayla, the high-powered directed energy weapons would have looked like any one of the thousands of civilian stations that filled the homeworld’s orbitals. In the three seconds it took them to charge up, it was already too late for Fara’man and Shu’gal to respond. Hundreds of high-powered energy beams that Royal Wrath’s sensors couldn’t make sense of, covered the distance to their targets at almost the speed of light. Thousands of ships were blown apart as the beams penetrated their target’s armor and hull like they were nothing, emerged out the other side and kept on travelling to score several more kills. In the blink of an eye, Fara’man lost a quarter of his ships, Shu’gal lost closer to half.

Seconds after they fired, the alien weapons all self-destructed, just as Tanaka-lan had been informed they would. It hurt Tanaka-lan to see them go. He had lost ten of them to failed attempts to open them up and reverse engineer their technology. Witnessing the destruction they unleashed almost made him wish he had kept trying to figure out how they worked. If he could arm his ships with such weapons, he would be unstoppable. But, there was no guarantee his scientists would have been able to disarm the weapons’ self-destruct munitions, never mind figure out how they worked. He would just have to settle for the devastation they had just wrought. And what a devastation it is! Tanaka-lan thought as his lips peeled back and drool poured down between his teeth. In mere seconds, his two enemies had been smashed.

Though the alien weapons’ role in the ambush was over, Tanaka-lan’s plan was far from finished. “Begin phase two,” he ordered greedily. From hidden fighter bays in orbit around Gayla, thousands of fighters sortied. At the same time, his fleet halted its retreat and set course for the heart of Shu’gal’s fleet. Understandably, it took minutes for both enemy fleets to figure out what had happened and reorganize themselves. As soon as they could manage it, they began to turn to run for the shift passage. Tanaka-lan wasn’t in the least surprised to see Fara’man abandon Shu’gal. That was fine with him.

With momentum on his side, Tanaka-lan’s fleet brought Shu’gal’s ships into missile range before they could escape. Fighter strikes joined in with the first two missile salvos to further cripple what was left of Shu’gal’s capital ships. Then, Tanaka-lan moved Royal Wrath forward into energy weapon range. When the warships of both fleets saw what was happening, the battle came to a brief pause. Not wasting time on any fancy maneuvers, Shu’gal’s dreadnaught and Tanaka-lan’s significantly larger superdreadnought went straight for each other.

Energy weapons blazed as laser beams and mass particle waves ravaged each ship. Royal Wrath shook under Tanaka-lan’s feet as she took hit after hit. She held together however, just as she had been built to. Shu’gal’s flagship didn’t fare nearly so well. Already damaged from a missile strike or fighter hit, Royal Wrath’s gunners sought out the weakened sections of armor with their shots. Laser beams melted valstronium armor and particle beams pierced through internal bulkheads. Death and destruction followed as secondary explosions killed thousands of the warship’s crew.

Still, she fought on, however, and Royal Wrath was rocked by more hits. Yet, the superdreadnought’s thicker armor and heavier guns quickly began to pay off. After just a minute of trading blows, Shu’gal’s flagship suddenly disappeared in one giant flash. Something had hit a vital part of the ship’s energy transfer system and caused an instant overload.

Around Royal Wrath, the respite in the fighting lingered for several seconds as everyone took in what had just happened. About half of what was left of Shu’gal’s fleet cut power to their engines in the recognized sign of submission. Their Imperator dead, they instantly transferred their allegiance to Tanaka-lan. Frustratingly, but understandably, a quarter of the survivors tried to break away from the battle towards Fara’man’s retreating fleet, choosing to give him their allegiance.

It was the final quarter whose actions caused Tanaka-lan to growl in anger. They fled in another direction, choosing to side with neither him nor Fara’man. It was a trend he was growing to detest. As the number of contenders for the Imperial crown had gradually been whittled down over the years of the civil war, growing numbers of families and clans had been choosing to abstain from picking a side. Wherever possible, Tanaka-lan had pressed such groups into his fleet at gunpoint, but there were still many such factions that refused to fight for any contender. Tanaka-lan had long ago began to take note of each group, for once the civil war was over, he intended to assert his dominance over them all.

What had him growling now, however, was the reality that he had to let them go. The ships moving to join Fara’man were by far the greater threat, for he would have to fight again any who escaped. “Pursue the ships trying to rendezvous with Fara’man,” he ordered. “Send our reserve fighters after them as well.”

In response to his orders, his fleet leaped into action once again. Hundreds of the ships trying to make their escape were blown apart as they fled. Fara’man, recognizing that the ships that wished to join him could go a long way in making up the losses he had suffered, slowed his fleet to give the newcomers cover. The move allowed Tanaka-lan to briefly bring Fara’man’s main fleet into missile range before it jumped out. Though Fara’man’s ships suffered more damage, the false imperator was able to get his fleet to the safety of shift space.

“We will give pursuit,” Tanaka-lan ordered when his officers looked to him. He didn’t think he could catch Fara’man’s flagship and destroy it. Fara’man would sacrifice his entire fleet before he would let that happen, but he could further whittle away at his opponent’s strength. And now, it is only a matter of time, Tanaka-lan thought to himself as his fleet approached Gayla’s mass shadow. Finally, after twenty-two years of fighting, the end of the civil war was in sight. All he had to do was defeat one more false imperator, and then the Karacknid Clans would be united under his rule. His mind went to Emperor Somerville and the other alien species who had desecrated his species’ homeworld. The civil war would soon be over, but he was far from finished with all the scores he had to settle.

The End.

I hope you have enjoyed this continuation of the Empire Rising Series. The tale of James, Christine Jonathan, Georgia and all the others will continue in book 16 where the war with the Protectorates will intensify even further.

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