Shadow Strike

Empire Rising Book 16

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 2023

Prologue

1987, (five hundred and twenty-two years ago).

Agent Secalras sat poised in her command chair as she watched the Higarian home system of Higar. Her tongue flicked back and forth vigorously. She was about to watch the results of twenty years of labor come to fruition. Two hundred years ago, the first Silizzeras scout ship to discover and document the Higarians had deemed them a species of potential threat. Though they were only beginning to reach out and colonize their own star system, the history of constant warfare between their various factions meant that if they ever developed FTL capabilities, they could one day become a threat to the Silizzeras people. That was deemed unacceptable. Since then, her people had kept a close eye on the Higarians and twenty years ago, Secalras had been assigned to finally do something about it.

When the first contacts began to appear on her stealth ship’s sensors, her tongue froze halfway out of her mouth. The rest of her body froze too as she sat perfectly poised. They had arrived right on schedule. Over the course of ten minutes, one hundred Tolodon warships exited shift space and deployed into an attack formation. Compared to her ship, the Tolodon ships were hopelessly antiquated. Yet, they were still a century ahead of anything the Higarians had. It took an hour for the Higarians to detect the threat that had entered their system. As Secalras expected, despite being outmatched and outnumbered, the forty ships the Higarians had that were in any way armed, left their homeworld on an intercept course. Secalras’ ships detected a number of communications being sent from the Higarians to the Tolodon fleet. She could easily imagine what was being said. The Higarians were a species quick to violence, but even they weren’t fools. They would be offering whatever they could to the Tolodons, begging them not to attack.

Thanks to her work, the Tolodons made no effort to reply. Years ago, Secalras had convinced them the Higarians couldn’t be trusted. No amount of pleading would undo the propaganda Secalras had fed into the Tolodon’s worldview. Within a couple of hours, the Tolodons would crush the Higarian fleet, destroy their orbitals, and put a permanent end to the Higarians’ desire to explore the stars. The threat to Secalras’ people would be ended once and for all.

The sudden blaring of alarms startled Secalras. New ships were being detected as they lit off their engines! To Secalras’ shock, they were appearing within the system and not from one of Higar’s shift passages. That meant her ship’s sensors had failed to spot them! Worse, her computers were drawing a blank as they tried to identify the newcomers. Fear filled Secalras. If her plan was about to fall apart, her life hung in the balance. If she returned to Anaconsada without subduing the Higarians, she would be liquidated on the spot.

Quickly, she got to work trying to ascertain the newcomer’s intentions. Her single ship had enough firepower to singlehandedly destroy all of the Tolodon and Higarian ships. Unless the newcomers were significantly advanced, she could probably take them too. Destroying all three fleets and levelling Higar wasn’t how the Silizzeras liked to operate, for it left far too much evidence of their existence behind. But, if she had no other choice, her superiors back at the Pillar of Seclusion might just understand. When her ship’s sensors began to get a good read on the newcomers’ powerplants and weapon’s systems, her lips curled back over her two fangs. The newcomers were technologically ahead of the Tolodons, but they were still no threat to her.

A new beep from one of her consoles informed Secalras the newcomers had sent out a system-wide communication. Full of curiosity, she allowed it to play. On her main view screen, a tall, regal alien appeared. Covered in feathers, it was hard for Secalras to see exactly what the alien’s body was like, but its long talons and sharp beak gave off a menacing look. As the alien spoke, however, its tone was far softer.

“People of the great Higarian and Tolodon civilizations, I am Admiral Yurvis of the Eaglaton Collective. We are your neighbors. Recently, we learned of the planned hostility between your two species, and when we detected the Tolodon fleet heading here to Higar, we felt compelled to intervene. Each of our three species have spent centuries developing our civilizations and our technologies to the point where we have now been freed from our homeworlds and empowered to explore the stars. This should be a time of discovery, advancement, and wonder, not of war. It is my species’ belief that the differences between your two peoples can be settled diplomatically. There is no need for fighting and bloodshed. My people are prepared to do whatever it takes and help in any way we can to ensure there is peace between your two species. Noble peoples such as ourselves should not seek to kill one another; instead, we can all enlighten one another and build far more together, than we could apart.” Pausing, Yurvis let his words sink in.

“To that end, I am moving my fleet between your two fleets, for I will not allow you to engage one another. If you must spill blood today, then you will spill the blood of my people and not that of the enemy you falsely believe you need to fight. Instead then, I advise that you pull your ships back and allow diplomacy to prevail here today. I humbly await your replies,” Yurvis finished, then bowed deeply towards whatever device had been recording him.

A flurry of thoughts rushed through Secalras’ mind. She couldn’t help but be angry at the newcomers. They were undoing everything she had worked so hard for! Her thoughts also went to the Ministry back on her homeworld. Someone had messed up very badly. One of her secondary screens was telling her the Eaglatons were a single-world species who were supposed to be just slightly more advanced than the Tolodons. Not deemed a primary threat, they didn’t currently have an agent assigned to oversee them. That had obviously been a mistake.

Despite her anger and concerns however, a new idea made her smile once again. Right now she knew almost nothing about these Eaglatons, but even so, they were clearly not like any of the other species in the sector. Who would put their fleet in harm’s way to help a species they weren’t allied with? Who would be prepared to bleed to stop two enemies going to war with one another? Her sensors were telling her the Eaglaton fleet wasn’t so powerful that the Tolodons or Higarians couldn’t hurt them if they tried to. Which meant the Eaglaton Admiral meant what he had said. His people truly thought it was their responsibility to bring the Higarians and Tolodons together. Though the idea was ludicrous to Secalras, that didn’t matter; the fact that the Eaglatons believed it, was all that did, for that kind of delusional view of the galaxy was a golden opportunity. In her mind, Secalras could envision the Eaglatons being manipulated into incorporating the Higarians into some kind of political entity where the Eaglatons would ensure neither the Higarians nor the Tolodons could ever threaten her people. And if I play it right, I could use them to secure this entire sector. They would all be our puppets.

Secalras’ vision grew as she watched the Tolodon fleet, and then the Higarian one, begin to slow. Though it signaled the failure of her initial plan, it opened a far bigger project, for the Tolodons and Higarians were going to work with the Eaglatons. Flicking her tongue out once more in satisfaction, Secalras imagined the reception she would receive at the Ministry when she returned to report she had the Eaglatons, Tolodons, Higarians, and more all under her control. It will be glorious, she told herself. But first, there is much to do. She needed to visit the Eaglaton homeworld at once, and begin to spread her reach into every aspect of their society. Though it would likely take several generations to fully capture the Eaglaton people, time was on her side.

*

Imperial Palace, Earth, (present time).

With nothing immediately on his schedule and Christine already in bed, James found himself once again in the briefing room adjacent to his office. Larger than the room with his mahogany desk, it gave him more room to pace. Though he only glanced at it from time to time, the large holo display showed Earth and the surrounding systems, including the Gift. On it were marked the dispositions of the various Imperial Fleet elements. All except the area that usually depicted space on the other side of the Bastion wormhole. It was blank, representing the fact that nothing had been heard from the other side of the wormhole for three months. Commodore Yen’s ships had reported coming under attack, Admiral Becket had rushed her fleet through to support Yen, and then nothing more had been heard from them. Instead, the wormhole’s event horizon had closed down, never reopening. Since that day, James had spent many an hour pacing back-and-forth across his briefing room, more than a few of which he should have been asleep in his quarters. The potential loss of the colony and fleet base at Bastion, of Becket’s fleet, and of contact with the Conclave species, all had him worried. That wasn’t what dominated his thoughts, however. Two of his children had been assigned to Becket’s fleet. Jonathan and Georgia were stuck on the other side of the wormhole, thousands of light years from him. Or worse, as he so greatly feared, they were already dead.

James shook his head as he went through the arguments against dispatching a small flotilla to Conclave territory through normal space for the umpteenth time. Even with the Kalassai dark matter sensors allowing a group of ships to explore a path, it would take a decade to get there. And that assumed they wouldn’t encounter any trouble along the way. Given how many enemies Humanity had already discovered, any long-range exploration mission seemed almost certain to encounter hostile aliens. Further, even if they made it all the way there, they could arrive to find Conclave space conquered by the Eaglaton Protectorate or the Karacknids. Then, the crews of the ships would have nothing to do but retrace their steps. How could he ask men and women to give up twenty years of their life simply to satisfy his need to know?

And yet, though his head said it was irrational, his heart wanted nothing more than to grab his COM unit and give such orders. Two of his children were gone. If no one else would lead it, and Christine allowed him, James would lead the mission himself. If it wasn’t for their children, James knew for certain Christine wouldn’t let him entertain such an idea. ‘How could you abandon your responsibilities as Emperor?’ She would ask. Yet, he had seen the cracks in her composure deepening as the weeks went on. She was as worried as he.

So deep in his thoughts was he that James didn’t notice the small blip that appeared on the holo plot adjacent to the Sol system. Twenty minutes later and he also missed the small flashing light that indicated it had sent a flash alert into the system. Having left his COM unit in his office, he also missed the first COM call that came through from the Admiralty. Not being able to raise James, Christine was the next one called. The sudden whooshing of the door into the briefing room and the fast movement of someone entering caused James to spin around. His arms went immediately into one of the defensive postures General Johnston had taught him. They dropped as soon as he saw who it was. “What is it?” His body tensing at the concern written across his wife’s face.

“Where is your COM unit?” Christine demanded. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. A ship has come from the Gift. There has been a battle. The wormhole was opened!”

“What?” James blurted as he spun towards the holo display. Sure enough, there was a ship marked that hadn’t been there when he had entered the briefing room. He turned back to Christine. “Jonathan, Georgia, are they all right?”

Christine raised her hands in the air as she shook her head. “I don’t know anything more than that yet. The report is being transmitted as we speak.” Christine reached out and took James’ hand. “Come on, we can go to the orbital CnC and read it as soon as they get it.”

Jonathan resisted Christine’s pull. “There’s no need. They can send it to us.” Pulling his wife over towards one of the seats, he gently sat her down and then moved to sit beside her. If he was to learn of his children’s deaths, he didn’t want to do it in front of a hundred officers he didn’t know. Tapping on the console, he requested the report be immediately sent to him. Then he glanced back up at Christine, he saw the same fear he felt in her eyes. That the wormhole had been opened was news beyond hope. But what had it cost the Imperial forces to achieve it?

When the report came thirty seconds later, James sent a copy to Christine’s console. In silence, they began to read. Though he was both impressed and amazed by all that Becket and her fleet had accomplished since passing through the wormhole, he skipped through each battle searching through the losses. When it came to the final attack on the Protectorate forces, his heart was in his mouth as he read of his daughter’s strategy to lead a massive fighter strike through the Protectorate fighters and ships to hit their anti-eddy cruisers. He blinked back tears as he saw the catastrophic losses the fighters suffered. And yet, his emotions soared. Georgia had survived, and so too had Jonathan!

At once, he spun to Christine. From the dread on her face, it was clear she was reading of the final battle. Then, she looked up at him. A wild grin spread across her face as they embraced. Their children were alive! As he held his wife, James felt her begin to sob as all the tension from the last months drained from her. They both knew their children were far from safe. The war with the Protectorate was only just beginning. But the wormhole had been opened, and Rear Admiral Davenport’s forces would ensure it was never closed again. With the lines of communication reconnected, they would not be left in the unknown fearing the worst again.

Eventually, Christine moved back from James, she wiped her eyes, and then looked up at him. “It is a miracle they accomplished all that they did, isn’t it?” James nodded. “But they will have to do more, won’t they?”

He nodded again. “I’m afraid so. We can’t just recall them. And I don’t think Becket will sit still long enough for us to send such orders, even if we tried.”

Christine closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. When she opened them again, some of her composure was back. “Then we better go through whatever proposals she has sent along with her report. Our Chiefs of Staff will be here soon, and we’ll have to have an Inner Council meeting early tomorrow morning. By then, we will need to have an idea of just what kind of support they are going to need.”

James smiled at his wife. She could change on a dime. “To work it is then,” he said as he winked at her. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway.”

Sitting down once again, he finished reading Becket’s battle report and then moved onto her future plans. Sure enough, she didn’t intend to remain at the Gift wormhole any longer than necessary. Though the Protectorates had started the war, she intended to press them as hard as she could. Given everything the Imperial forces at Bastion and under Becket’s command had already suffered, James was inclined to agree. He doubted everyone on the Inner Council would see it that way, though. As Christine glanced at him again, she nodded slowly. He returned the gesture. They were of one mind. That meant one thing. One way or another, the Inner Council would come round to their way of thinking. Though James greatly feared the Karacknids might take advantage of their weakness, every warship the Human Empire had needed to be thrown against the Protectorates now to end the war as quickly as possible. For they could not afford it to drag out. The Protectorates had already shown themselves to be deadly enemies. They had to be forced to give up their war of conquest. One way or another.

Chapter 1

The Battle of the Gift was a colossal risk. If it wasn’t for the skill of a handful of pilots, it would have almost certainly failed. If it had, the wormhole might have been closed by the Eaglatons, never to be opened again. Even five hundred years removed from the events, it is not hard for first year history students to realize how different the Empire’s history would be if the attack had failed.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Bastion side of the Gift wormhole, 10th January 2510 AD.

“I’m in no rush, pilot, we can take the scenic route,” Jonathan said to the officer flying Kestrel’s shuttle. As the spacecraft slowed its approach to the unusually shaped light cruiser, Jonathan took a deep breath as he soaked in the sleek lines of his second command. Slightly longer than a standard light cruiser, Kestrel was also wider, giving her a displacement almost halfway between a light and medium cruiser. Despite her unusual look, she had a rugged beauty. Her thick armor gave off the impression that she could hold up to the strongest bombardment, while the long snubs of her laser cannons, heavy plasma cannons, and mass driver railguns showed she had sharp teeth. And she doesn’t have a scratch on her, Jonathan realized after a couple of seconds of wondering why she felt so different to the ships he had grown accustomed to looking at.

When they got close enough, the pilot slowly circled Kestrel, edging closer on each revolution. Jonathan was surprised when he found he could make out each of the eight large drones that were attached to Kestrel’s hull. They were what gave Kestrel her extra girth, and though they smoothly connected into her hull, the intersection between their hulls and Kestrel’s were clearly visible. They also stood out as they bristled with sensors and point defensive weapons. When launched, together the eight drones would bolster Kestrel’s defensive capabilities by a factor of two. It was an idea that had been tested long ago. Then, none of the Human nations had had the computing capabilities to run so many firing solutions at once. Kulrean tech had changed that. Jonathan was still suspicious about how well the drone would work in a large fleet engagement. An entire fleet equipped with them would drastically complicate any fleet maneuvers, especially in the event evasive maneuvers were needed. But that is a problem for another time, he thought as he smiled. Kestrel was designed for solo missions, where her extra defenses would give her a significant advantage.

“Shall I take us in, Sir?” the pilot asked after circling Kestrel for the eighth time.

Jonathan sighed, he could stare at his new ship for hours, but he had work to do. On his datapad, he already had sealed orders from Rear Admiral Davenport, upon taking command he was to open them and share them with his senior officers. With Kestrel being made up of a mixture of the survivors from his old command Achilles and many new recruits, he also had to begin whipping them into shape as soon as possible. “Yes, take us in,” Jonathan replied.

Though he wanted to watch as the shuttle closed with Kestrel’s main hanger, instead Jonathan looked down and made sure his dress uniform was pristine. He needed to make a good first impression. “You look good, Captain,” Major Becca Samuels said when she saw what he was doing. “I’m sure they’re more nervous about meeting you.” She winked when Jonathan’s eyes rose to meet hers. She was sitting directly across from him with the rest of the eight Marines that formed his personal Imperial Guard detachment.

“If you like, I can make sure everything is in place, Sir?” Heaton, Jonathan’s steward asked from his seat beside Jonathan.

Jonathan gave Becca a cold stare, she knew he hated people fussing over him. “I’m quite alright,” he assured Heaton, making sure none of his irritation at Becca slipped into his tone.

As the shuttle touched down, Jonathan unbuckled himself and stood. Slowly, he made his way to the descending access ramp, he wanted to savor the moment. Before he got there, two Imperial Guards moved ahead of him, then Becca stood beside him half a step ahead. Jonathan wanted to roll his eyes at her protectiveness, what danger was he in on his own ship? He didn’t get a chance, for the second this foot touched the ramp, a small band struck up a familiar tune. Jonathan couldn’t help shaking his head as ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’ echoed around the hanger bay. He was certain his Second Lieutenant was responsible. The music continued to play as he descended the access ramp and walked across the hanger towards his First Lieutenant. He gave her a slight nod as he approached. They had just spent several hours together on board Admiral Becket’s flagship, Trident, where Jonathan had spent the last several months serving on Becket’s command staff. After receiving their new orders, Jonathan had given her an hour to get Kestrel ready to receive him while he had said his goodbyes to the rest of Becket’s command staff. It appeared she had been busy.

“Kestrel sal-lute!” Cortez’s voice boomed over the music when Jonathan came to a halt four steps in front of her. As one, the gathered officers and crew, about one hundred by Jonathan’s guess, snapped to attention. The music cut off, and silence filled the hanger.

Jonathan took several seconds to let his eyes scan over the officers and crew, noting the familiar and strange faces, letting them all know he was carefully inspecting their presentation. Then, he slowly reached for his datapad and opened the file containing his orders. “By order of Admiral Villeneuve, Admiral of the Red and with the authority of Emperor Somerville, I assume command of IS Kestrel. Lieutenant Cortez, you are relieved.”

“I stand relieved, Captain,” Cortez replied, then she snapped him a salute that was followed by the rest of the officers and crew.

Jonathan couldn’t keep up the formalities any longer and broke into a wide grin as he held out his hand to Cortez. “She really is beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked loud enough for everyone in the hanger to hear.

Cortez returned his grin. “I told you she was, Captain. It is great to have you on board!” Cortez turned and gestured to Kestrel’s Second Lieutenant. “I believe you know Lieutenant Morrison.”

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” Lydia said as she held out her hand.

Jonathan swatted it away and pulled his friend into a hug. “It is good to see you again!” he said just for her.

Stepping back, Jonathan turned to his third, fourth, fifth, and sixth Lieutenants. He smiled widely when he recognized Lieutenant Scholes, his navigation officer from Achilles, now wearing the insignia of a third Lieutenant rather than a fifth. “I see someone decided you were ready for a little more authority,” he said as he shook the Lieutenant’s hand. “I can’t say I disapprove.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Scholes said as his cheeks reddened.

The next three Lieutenants were all new to Jonathan, and so Cortez introduced him to Fourth Lieutenant Julia Artex, Fifth Lieutenant Mark Abrahams, and Sixth Lieutenant Samuel Harte. After shaking their hands, Jonathan moved on to greet several of the Sub Lieutenants and non-commissioned officers. There were more than a few familiar faces from Achilles’ survivors. Seeing them brought Jonathan a mixture of joy and sadness as he was reminded of how many were missing.

When he was done, he stepped back and took in all the gathered crew. Only about a quarter of Kestrel’s crew were present, but he knew his actions and words would quickly be conveyed to the rest. “Men and women of the Imperial Ship Kestrel, it is an honor for me to assume command. I am reliably informed that you passed your space trials with flying colors. That is good, for we are now at war. A war that has already cost us many hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of lives. Many of you served with me on Achilles. There, we were at the very forefront of this war. Your actions averted disaster, but we paid a heavy price. Things will be no different on-board Kestrel. We will all be called upon to go above and beyond the call of duty, and that is exactly what we will do.

“As such, we will be training and drilling as if the fate of the Empire depends on our combat abilities, for it may very well be so. Therefore, I expect each and every one of you to give of your best. Do this, and we will avenge those we have lost and give the enemy a hammering from which they will never recover. That is all.”

Finished, Jonathan paused for a moment. He looked around at his crew. No one cheered, not that he expected them to, but more than a handful of Achilles’ old crew nodded forcefully or held his gaze as determination filled their eyes. Jonathan nodded in approval; he knew from Cortez that Kestrel wasn’t quite ready for combat just yet. But, from the looks on the faces of his crew, he was certain they would get them there soon.

“Senior officers, you may show me to our briefing room and we can go over our orders,” Jonathan said. He had to hide a smile as a new curiosity ran through the hanger. Everyone wanted to know what they would be doing, but they would have to wait until he had informed his senior officers, and until he found out the finer details himself.

“This way, Captain,” Cortez said as she pointed a hand towards one of the hanger bay’s hatches.

At once, two of Jonathan’s Imperial Guards set off towards the hatch at some unseen gesture from Becca. As Cortez began to move, Jonathan fell in step beside her, Lydia followed closely behind. “Everything ship shape?” he asked his First Lieutenant.

“Aye, Captain, we’ve just been rearranging our munitions after the battle. As you know, we took no damage, so we’re just making sure each of our remaining missiles are equally distributed between the four magazines.”

“How many are we short now?”

“One salvo of mark VIIs and two of VIIIs,” Lydia answered. “One of the fleet supply ships is scheduled to dock with us to top up our mark VIIIs, but there’s no VIIs available either here on the other side of the wormhole, at least not for the likes of us.”

Jonathan nodded. “I imagine there are more on their way from Earth or Britannia, but I doubt we’ll be here long enough to receive them.”

“So you know where we’re going?” Lydia asked excitedly as they continued to walk.

“Not exactly, I’m sure Cortez has filled you in. We’ve been assigned to Rear Admiral Davenport’s squadron. She has been tasked with screening the main fleet. Beyond that, we’ll have to wait and see,” Jonathan said as he tapped his datapad with his sealed orders.

Both Lydia and Cortez picked up their pace, causing Jonathan to grin. They were eager. When they got to the briefing room, Jonathan took a moment to look around and then sat down. Pulling up a new file on his datapad, he handed it to Cortez for her to authorize and signal he had assumed command, then the file opened. He scanned through the orders quickly, and then handed them to Cortez. As she and then Lydia read, he fiddled with the room’s main holo display and brought up a star map of space around the Gift wormhole. When Lydia was done, he took the datapad back and sent its information to the display. Three systems began to flash.

“Well, there we have it,” he said. The systems were on the extreme left flank of the route through which Admiral Becket’s fleet would pass as it began its offensive against the Protectorates. A squadron of thirty ships under the command of Commodore Magnuson was to screen the fleet’s left flank, and Kestrel would be the last ship on the extreme left.

“We’re not going to be seeing too much action there,” Lydia said, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“No,” Jonathan agreed. He didn’t know if Magnuson or Davenport, or even Becket had assigned Kestrel to scout out the three systems. It was hard not to think that whoever it was, they were trying to keep him out of harm’s way. “But, it is important work, nevertheless,” he said as he forced himself to accept their orders. “If Admiral Lvant tried to threaten the fleet’s flank, he could cut off Becket’s line of supply. That would be a disaster. So, we will investigate these systems and clear out any Protectorate presence. After that, I imagine Davenport and Magnuson will have orders to push even further forward. Becket wants to keep Lvant in the dark about our intentions for as long as possible. That means we’ll be committing large squadrons forward right across the front line to screen the fleet’s advance.”

“And it will beat sitting about here for another week or two,” Cortez added, trying to sound enthusiastic. “It is going to take time for Becket’s ships to carry out repairs and take on supplies. By the time they are ready to move, we will be well on our way to checking these three systems out and reporting back to Magnuson.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan replied. “Lydia, why don’t you pass on our orders to the crew? Let them know we’ll be departing as soon as we restock our missiles. Cortez, what say we have a look at the bridge? By then, Heaton will have unpacked my things and we can retire to my office for a coffee. Lydia, you can join us. I’m going to want to hear every tidbit of information you have to share about Kestrel. “

“Of course, Captain,” Lydia said, shooting Jonathan a smile as she stood. “There is lots to tell. She is more than a little unusual.”

“Of that, I am already convinced,” Jonathan said, shooting Lydia a grin as she left. “Shall we?” he asked Cortez as he stood. Cortez nodded and jumped to her feet.

Following his First Lieutenant across the corridor and onto Kestrel’s bridge, Jonathan’s first impression was how small it was. Coming from Trident, where all of the dreadnought’s officers and Admiral Becket’s staff officers had their own consoles, Kestrel’s bridge was far more intimate. However, as Jonathan sat down and looked around at the officers who had all swiveled their chairs around to look at him, it felt just right. He was where he belonged. “At ease,” he told his officers.

As they turned and got back to work, Jonathan spent several minutes watching them to get a feel for his new officers. Then, he nodded for Cortez to begin giving him a tour. Walking around the semi-circular bridge, she talked him through each of the console positions. Of particular interest to Jonathan was Lieutenant Harte’s drone console. From it, he coordinated the formation and defensive fire of Kestrel’s eight PD drones. Jonathan sat in the console and played with its controls to get a feel for just what capabilities Harte had access to. Once he was satisfied with the bridge’s layout, Jonathan turned to his own command chair and took a seat. He began to fiddle with its console, familiarizing himself with its workings. There were several updates and new features due to Kestrel having come fresh from her construction yard, but nothing that stumped him. “Let’s have a look at the fleet,” he requested when he was done.

Fourth Lieutenant Julia Artex activated the main holo display and projected a 3D image of the Allied fleet that surrounded Kestrel. Jonathan took several seconds to take in the thousands of ships. Most were Imperial, but there were pockets of Gramrian, Crian, Varanni, and Vestarian ships as well. “Give me an overview of what we’re looking at,” Jonathan requested as a way to get to know Artex more.

“Eh… Hm… yes, Captain, of course,” the Lieutenant spluttered as she glanced at Jonathan, saw he wasn’t joking, and quickly turned back to her console sending her fingers flying over it. Over the course of four minutes, she zoomed in on different elements of the fleet, singling out each squadron or fleet commanded by Becket, Davenport, Salamanca, Shraw, and several others respectfully. She then highlighted the various supply and repair flotillas that were also at work.

“And where is the freighter with our missiles?” Jonathan asked.

“Right here, Captain,” Artex said without hesitation, pointing to a freighter that began to flash. “She has to service Rottweiler, Flash, and then Nile before she comes to us.”

“Very good, Lieutenant, I am impressed. You have a good grasp of the fleet,” Jonathan said as he winked at Julia. “See that you all keep yourselves similarly abreast of such information,” he said for all the bridge officers to hear. “You never know when it may be needed.”

Though no one responded, several of the junior officers nodded, serious expressions on their faces. Jonathan smiled at them as they studiously got back to their work. He watched them for several minutes, then stood, “I think I have seen enough for now, Lydia will be waiting for us, let’s retire to my quarters.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Cortez said. “Artex, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Artex replied as Jonathan and Cortez walked out.

When they got to his office, Jonathan wasn’t surprised to see Heaton already had three drinks set out. His steward knew exactly what he, Cortez and Lydia liked to drink. No doubt all of Jonathan’s personal possessions were already unpacked and stowed away, too. Heaton was probably already speaking to Kestrel’s chef about what meals Jonathan was to eat, meals Jonathan suspected his mother had spoken to Heaton about.

Lydia was also waiting for them, and Jonathan smiled at her as they entered. “Word is spreading around the ship then?”

“I’d bet everyone knows by now, Captain,” Lydia smiled. “A solo cruise, away from the slow-moving capital ships, most are excited.”

“I’m glad,” Jonathan replied. “Now, let’s get to business, I have a lot of questions about Kestrel. And then, I’m going to go through every report generated since she left her construction berth. After that, I want a tour of every inch of the vessel,” Jonathan informed them, for he knew only when he had stepped foot in every compartment and laid eyes on every conduit would he start to feel like the ship was really his.

Chapter 2

For a Captain, there is nothing quite like stepping onto one’s warship for the first time.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Kestrel, 11th January 2510 AD.

Eighteen hours later, Jonathan was in Kestrel’s second magazine overseeing the six mark VIII missiles that were being stowed away. Normally, it was a job for a junior Lieutenant, but he wanted to see his crew at work, and this was the perfect excuse. He raised a hand to stifle a yawn as the last missile was swung around from the conveyor belt that brought the missile in from the supply freighter docked with his cruiser. When he had come on board, he hadn’t slept since before the battle with Lvant’s fleet, so after speaking with Cortez and Lydia, he had grabbed a quick six hours before throwing himself back into familiarizing himself with his new command.

“That’s it, sir,” Petty Gunnery Officer Simmons said as the missile was firmly locked in place. “She’s not going to move anywhere now, no matter how hard Lieutenant Scholes throws us around.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jonathan replied. “Your people are fast workers. Well done.” A beep from his COM unit stopped him from adding anything more. Pulling his unit out, he half turned from his crew. “Go ahead.”

“Captain,” Lydia’s familiar voice said, “Rear Admiral Davenport’s flagship is hailing us. The Admiral wishes to speak to you.”

“Send it through to my office, inform them I will be available in a couple of minutes.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lydia replied before cutting the COM channel.

“Duty calls,” Jonathan said to his crew as he nodded to Simmons and then turned and made his way to the nearest turbolift at a brisk pace. If Davenport wanted to speak to him personally, it had to be important.

As soon as he sat down in his office, he tapped the COM unit built into his desk to signal that he was available. Less than a minute later, the holo display sprang to life to show an image of Davenport. “Captain, I trust you are settling into your new command?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Jonathan said with a nod. “There is much to get my head around. But, she appears to be a well-built ship, and Lieutenant Cortez has the crew well trained on their duties. And I’m sure the PD drones are going to give rise to some interesting tactical possibilities.”

“That is good, I find this idea of a drone cruiser quite interesting. I will be watching your progress carefully. I understand you have completed taking on your replacement munitions?”

“We have, Admiral, though we could still do with some more mark VII missiles.”

Davenport chuckled, “So could we all. I’m afraid it may be many weeks before we have enough new supplies to meet everyone’s needs. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Jonathan replied.

“In any case, I wanted to inform you that I have given Commodore Magnuson orders to begin sending out his squadron as soon as his various elements are ready. Admiral Becket wants our forward screen moving out as soon as possible. It’s quite likely Lvant has left scouts behind, despite his retreat to keep an eye on us. The sooner we start pushing them back, the less knowledge Lvant will get about our intentions. You will likely be shipping out before the end of the day.”

“Kestrel is ready, Admiral, we won’t let you down,” Jonathan said confidently.

“That’s what I want to hear,” Davenport replied. “And I wanted to make sure you understood your assignment. Kestrel is an experimental warship. We don’t know how she will perform in combat yet. You are one of my best Captains. Ideally, I’d be putting you at the head of one of our lead squadrons, but you’re going to need time to hone your crew’s skills and come to grips with Kestrel’s abilities. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she’d be back in the Sol system carrying out drills there. So don’t begrudge your orders too much, Captain, once your people are ready, you’ll be back in the thick of things, I promise.”

“I never thought otherwise, Admiral,” Jonathan replied in a level tone. “We will serve wherever you think best.”

Davenport chuckled. “Don’t forget, it wasn’t so long ago that I was a cruiser Captain myself. I can imagine how you first felt when you read your orders. I just wanted you to understand, you may be the Imperial heir, but to Admiral Becket and me, you are a Captain first, a fine one at that. So when your ship is ready, we will have plenty of work for you.”

“Thank you, Admiral, that will give us all the extra motivation we need to prepare ourselves,” Jonathan said.

Davenport smiled at him. “Very well, you may return to getting your ship ready to depart. I have a hundred other things to see to if the rest of my command is to join you before the week is out. Good luck, Captain.”

“And to you too, Admiral,” Jonathan replied before the COM channel ended. Left to himself once again, he went over Davenport’s words. He had been right, Kestrel had been assigned to the least dangerous part of the fleet’s screening force on purpose, just not for the reasons he had feared. We will get ourselves ready, and then Lvant and the Protectorate will rue the day they decided to invade us, he decided.

*

Three hours later, and the orders Jonathan had been expecting came in from Commodore Magnuson’s flagship. “Set course for the Honduras shift passage,” Jonathan ordered as soon as he read them. “We have permission to begin our patrol. Inform the crew we are getting under way. If they have any message they want sent back through the wormhole, now is the time to send them.

“Course set, Captain,” Scholes informed Jonathan.

“Proceed,” Jonathan said with a nod to his navigation officer. As Kestrel powered up her four reactors to full, and her impulse engines rumbled into life for the first time since Jonathan took command, he couldn’t help but smile. Not quite as fast as Achilles had been, the light cruiser still put out impressive acceleration numbers.

“Message from Trident, Captain. It says, ‘Trident wishes one of her own good luck.’

“Acknowledge the message,” Jonathan said as he smiled inwardly. Though he had only served on Admiral Becket’s command staff for a handful of months, the other staff officers had become friends, as had Flag Captain Godwin and Admiral Becket. At least, he hoped they felt as he did.

As Kestrel started to pull away from the fleet, Jonathan watched the activity among the thousands of Imperial warships. Slightly behind them, the wormhole’s event horizon was emitting a constant stream of gravimetric eddies as ship after ship jumped through almost like clockwork. Supply freighters and fresh warships were coming through as quickly as they could make it to the Gift.

“Captain, a Captain Malhorta of the light cruiser Resolute is hailing us,” Lieutenant Abrahams informed Jonathan.

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn’t realized Malhorta’s ship had come through with Davenport’s ships. “Where is she?” he asked as he shared a look with Lydia. Both of them had been junior Lieutenants on Resolute before the string of events that had led them to Achilles. On the holo display, two contacts further out from the main fleet and Kestrel began to flash.

“Resolute and another light cruiser are patrolling the approaches to the wormhole, Captain,” Abrahams reported. “We’ll be in two-way communication range in three minutes.”

“Acknowledge their request, connect us when we can speak in real time,” Jonathan said. Three minutes later, and he found himself staring at his old Captain. “Captain Malhorta, it is a pleasure to see you and Resolute again. I am glad you are with the fleet for this endeavor.”

“And I’m glad to see you in one piece, Captain. You seem to like jumping from crisis to crisis,” Malhorta said as she shook her head at him. “If I had known, I would never have given you command of that captured pirate ship. But then, where would we be now if I hadn’t?”

“I imagine I’d still be on Resolute giving you a headache or two,” Jonathan said with a smile. “Is there something more you wish to speak about?” He asked, sure that Malhorta hadn’t just called him to say hello.

“As it happens, I do, Captain,” Malhorta said, a slyness creeping into her tone. “Everyone in the fleet has heard about your new cruiser. Some say she is meant to put older models like Resolute out of commission. How do you fancy a simulated battle while you make your way to your shift passage? We can see just what your ship is capable of?”

Though the prospect excited him, Jonathan kept his face emotionless. “I’m not sure, Captain. Admiral Davenport has given me express instructions to train my crew for the toughest of challenges. I’m not sure Resolute falls into that category. As you said, she may very well be considered obsolete very soon.”

Malhorta ’s face screwed up in indignation. Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh and hold up his hands before she lashed out at him with the stern tongue he had once feared. “I’m joking, Captain, I’m joking.”

Malhorta stared at him sternly. “May I suggest you have developed a little more cheek than is proper for a naval captain. Just for that, I’ll make the simulation extra difficult. Good luck, Captain, I fear you’re going to need it,” Malhorta said as she winked at Jonathan and then cut the COM channel.

“We’re getting a request for a laser COM link from Resolute to establish a connection for the drill,” Abrahams reported seconds later.

“Accept the link, and then send the crews to their battle stations,” Jonathan replied. He turned to Cortez. “What do you think, is she ready?”

Cortez nodded without hesitation. “We’ll give a good account of ourselves, Captain.”

Jonathan smiled at his First Lieutenant. “In that case, you take command. You know her best. Show me what she can do.”

Cortez’s eyes flashed in surprise for the briefest of seconds. Then, she regained control. At once, she began to bark out orders to the rest of Kestrel’s officers. The ease with which she did so told Jonathan that Cortez had matured in the months they had been apart. She is ready for her own command, he was certain. Jonathan knew he would miss her, but it was only a matter of time now. His father had already promised Cortez a ship. As soon as one became available, she would be transferring out. Which means I better learn as much about Kestrel from her as I can now, he thought as he leaned forward and watched as the readings on the bridge’s consoles changed to show the data from the simulation Malhorta had prepared.

The image on the holo display also updated. Suddenly, Kestrel was flanked by three large freighters. Information scrolling alongside them showed that they were each carrying precious cargoes of reactor fuel. Forty-five light minutes behind Kestrel was a small human colony with several gas mining stations in orbit, defended by two Hercules class battlestations. Ahead of them, just slightly further away, was a shift passage, clearly meant to be their destination.

“I guess we’re supposed to be playing escort,” Lydia commented.

“Which means Malhorta gets to have all the fun,” Cortez said. “All right, let’s see what she is planning. Launch a spread of recon drones, let’s have a mixture of thirty percent stealth ones.” Pausing, Cortez looked over to Jonathan. Guessing what she wanted to ask, he gave her a slight nod. “Then prepare a second spread, fire all our remaining stealth drones.”

Launching so many of the far more expensive stealth drones wasn’t exactly by the book, but Malhorta had indicated she planned to give them a real test, so Jonathan had no problem with Cortez bending the rules a little.

For half an hour, Kestrel and her three imaginary companions continued on their course without incident. With everyone on edge just waiting for something to happen, when Lydia’s head shot up from her console, everyone turned to her. “I think our second shell of stealth drones have something, Lieutenant,” she said to Cortez. “Just here.” On the holo display, a dot began to flash. “It was only for a second, but it looked like a maneuvering thruster. The position and angle are consistent with a ship that is trying to avoid this active drone here.”

Cortez didn’t hesitate. “Alter our heading to five, four, one point seven. Order the freighters to go to maximum acceleration.”

Now we’ll see, Jonathan thought. Cortez’s course change kept Kestrel and the freighters heading towards the opening of the shift passage, but it meant they were now heading towards the point of the passage furthest from the potential contact. Unless Malhorta ’s light cruiser had a heck of a lot of momentum already built up, she’d have to come out of stealth to catch the freighters.

Seconds later, Malhorta was forced to reveal herself as Resolute went to full acceleration; however, she was far from beaten. Surprise ran through Kestrel’s bridge as two contacts appeared. Jonathan shook his head. Malhorta had included the second light cruiser Resolute into the simulation. She wasn’t even coming close to playing fair. Cortez turned round and caught Jonathan’s eye. All he could do was give his First Lieutenant a shrug. She was in command.

“Plot an intercept course for those two ships,” Cortez ordered. “Our freighters can’t outrun them to the shift passage, so we will have to buy them time. Prepare firing solutions on Resolute, let’s see if we can take her with us.”

Turning away from the three freighters, Kestrel charged towards Malhorta’s two ships. Jonathan watched the battle unfold with interest. He was about to get his first real experience of how Kestrel’s drones worked in combat. As soon as they could open fire with their long-range mark VII missiles, all three ships did so. Malhota’s two cruisers fired thirty-two missiles, while Kestrel just fourteen. Malhorta had her two ships in close formation with one another, enabling them to perfectly overlap their defensive fire, giving them stronger point defensive capabilities than Kestrel had even with her drones. Though the difference wasn’t as much as Jonathan expected, as salvo after salvo was fired by the combatants, Kestrel’s drones were impressive.

Forming up in a large circular formation around Kestrel, they were able to provide a crossfire on the incoming missiles. Working in groups of four, they focused on one missile, filling space around it with laser beams. As soon as it was destroyed, Lieutenant Harte already had their next target lined up. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Artex worked all of Kestrel’s standard point defense weapons. Clearly, they had split up the incoming missiles for none of Kestrel’s flak cannon rounds, arc emitter waves, long and short-range AM missiles, and then close in laser and plasma cannons hit many of Harte’s targets. This is their advantage in small-scale duels, Jonathan realized. In a massive battle with tens of thousands of missiles incoming, it was all but impossible to assign different groups of missiles to different weapon systems. With just thirty-six, it was far easier.

Though Jonathan was impressed, Kestrel’s drones couldn’t overcome Malhorta’s advantage in missile numbers. After the first two salvos of mark VII missiles were successfully dealt with, Malhorta moved into range with her deadlier mark VIII missiles. Cortez tried to keep Kestrel out of range of said missiles, but having to guard the freighters limited her ability to maneuver. Worse, as the battle continued, the inexperience of Kestrel’s crew began to be uncovered. While Resolute and her consort relentlessly fired a missile salvo every four minutes and thirty seconds, Kestrel’s average started to rise until it was over five minutes ten seconds. Seeing the difference made Jonathan’s hands tighten. The fleet standard requirement was a flat five minutes, though he knew Becket demanded even quicker salvos from her ships. Resolute and her consort were showing that in a smaller engagement, they could fire even faster. Kestrel’s missile crews were a long way off their standards.

Inevitably, the faster salvos of mark VIII missiles began to find their mark, and Kestrel started to suffer damage. The first antimatter warhead that got close enough to detonate wiped away most of Kestrel’s gaseous shield. A second also scored a proximity hit, negating a significant proportion of the light cruiser’s nose armor.

“We’ve lost several sensors nodes and two laser cannons,” Lydia reported. “Shields are at just twenty percent.”

“Tactical?” Cortez asked as she turned to Artex.

Artex shook her head. “They are shooting down all our missiles. We may be able to sneak one through if we keep firing, but the odds are against us.”

“Just keep at it,” Cortez replied. “We just have to hold them off until the freighters get to the shift passage.

Two more missile salvos came in. Antimatter from a missile in the first negated the rest of Kestrel’s shield. Two missiles from the second scored more proximity hits, stripping Kestrel of her armor and critical sensor and weapons. To even her surprise, Artex and her team managed to slip one antimatter missile through Malhorta’s defenses. The missile just narrowly missed scoring a direct hit on Resolute. A cheer went up around the bridge as visual showed a deep gouge in the cruiser where a large amount of antimatter had managed to strike the hull. In the next missile salvo, Resolute fired one less missile, showing she had lost a missile tube.

In the end, however, it made little difference. Two more proximity hits took out one of Kestrel’s engines and two of her missile tubes. Then, a missile from the next salvo scored a direct hit. Punching through Kestrel’s weakened armor and several bulkheads, the warhead didn’t detonate until it was two-thirds of the way through Jonathan’s ship. Its simulated explosion filled Kestrel’s innards with antimatter. Alarms blared all around the bridge, signifying serious damage had been suffered. Though her superstructure held together, Kestrel lost power and began to spin out of control. Without sensors or weapons, she was effectively dead. Seconds later, the view on the holo display changed to show Kestrel cruising along towards the Honduras shift passage. The simulation was over.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Cortez said as she sat back in her command chair and let out a long breath.

Jonathan smiled at her. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Lieutenant,” he said loudly to fill the bridge. “You were outmatched and outgunned. And by my reckoning, those three freighters made it to the shift passage. At worst, I’d call it a draw. Your mission was to protect them, and that is what you did.”

Pausing, Jonathan took in the rest of his officers, most still looked disappointed. He was ok with that, but he wanted to lift their spirits all the same. “In truth, I was impressed. For a new crew with a new ship, you all fought well. And Lieutenant Harte, the drones are impressive… that said,” Jonathan said a little more quietly, forcing his officers to focus on his words. “There were several areas where I see we need to improve. I will be drawing up some simulations and live firing drills to work on them. For next time we come up against a superior enemy, it may be for real.”

He held his officers’ eyes for a moment to make sure they got the seriousness of his words, then he gave them a sharp nod. “Each of you is to review your contribution to the battle and assess how you can improve. You can begin immediately.” At once, the officers spun around back to their consoles.

“Resolute is hailing us, Captain,” Lieutenant Abrahams reported seconds later.

Jonathan looked away from his officers. They all looked eager to learn, despite some of the feelings he had seen. For now, that was good enough for him. “Very well, put Malhorta through,” he said with a sigh, certain his former captain was going to enjoy gloating over her victory. Just wait until next time, he thought towards her smiling face when it appeared. We’ll be ready for you then.

Chapter 3

Only real combat can blood a fresh crew. Sadly, for many, they do not live long enough to benefit from the lessons they quickly begin to learn.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, Pyrene system, 20th January 2510 AD, (nine days later).

Since Kestrel had left the Gift, Jonathan had not stopped drilling his crew. After finding the Honduras system devoid of any Protectorate ships, they had even made a detour to one of Honduras’ outer asteroid belts to give Kestrel’s crew some experience firing their weapons for real. Currently, Jonathan was on the bridge watching Lydia supervise Kestrel’s active recon drones as they scouted the Pyrene system. Most of the rest of the crew, including Cortez, were fighting another simulated battle.

“Another bust,” Jonathan said to Lydia as it was looking like neither their drones nor Kestrel’s active sensors were going to turn up anything of interest.

“Unless there was someone here and they jumped out not long after detecting us,” Lydia suggested. “They could be bringing word back to Ulan’nagn as we speak.”

Jonathan nodded. In part, that was why they were here. If Protectorate scouts sent a contact report back to Lvant, he would have to wonder why Imperial ships were operating in the system. Jonathan knew the more confused Lvant was, the happier Becket would be. No one yet knew where he had retreated to for sure, but the Bar’samin’s home system of Ulan’nagn was his closest fuel supply.

Twenty more minutes passed largely in silence as the bridge officers were all focused on their simulation or on the sensor readings coming in from the recon drones. When Sub Lieutenant Richards quickly turned towards Lydia, Jonathan looked up. Lydia was so engrossed in her console that she didn’t notice the movement. Richards looked around as if searching for someone and then back to Lydia. “What is it, Sub lieutenant?” Jonathan asked. “You can interrupt us, we don’t bite.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Richards said hesitantly. “It might be nothing. I wasn’t sure.”

“Show us,” Jonathan insisted. “It’s better you waste our time with nothing, than you let something slip past us.”

“Yes, of course, Captain. I’m sorry,” Richards replied without meeting Jonathan’s eyes. Jonathan wanted to scold him for apologizing again, but he doubted it would have the intended effect. Instead, he gestured for Richards to go on. “Recon drone four got a small reflection of a possible contact ten minutes ago,” Richards explained. “It was flagged by the computer, though upon a second analysis, it was determined to be a meteor fragment. However, recon drone seven just got a similar reflection. It would have been dismissed too, except that the meteor has moved.”

“All meteors move, Sub Lieutenant, I assume you mean in an unusual way?” Jonathan asked.

Richards nodded. “Yes, Captain, according to the trace drone four got, the meteor should be here, but its course must have changed slightly, for now we are detecting it at this location.”

Jonathan studied the holo map, the discrepancy between the two points Richards had highlighted was small, almost small enough that it could be attributed to a sensor defect. Yet, meteors don’t change course, Jonathan thought. “Good work, Sub Lieutenant, it may yet be nothing, but this is exactly the kind of thing you need to pass up the chain of command. Lydia, what do you think?”

“It’s worth checking out, Captain, but how do we do so without alerting them if there is a Protectorate ship out there?”

Jonathan smiled at his Second Lieutenant. “That’s what I was asking you.”

“Right,” Lydia said more seriously as she turned back to her console. Her fingers began to tap on it as she worked through a number of options. “Recon drone nine is on a long circular path around the system’s star. If we alter her trajectory by just a few degrees over the next ten minutes, she will end up swinging close to the anomaly in forty-five minutes or so.”

“How much of a change are we talking?” Jonathan asked.

The holo display updated to give him his answer. A wide circular path in blue appeared, it started where drone nine had been launched from Kestrel at the other side of the system, then while Kestrel continued on through the system in a straight line, the drone used the star’s gravity to travel on a wide arc to circumnavigate the system before joining up again with Kestrel. A new projected course then appeared beside the blue path showing drone nine tightening its arc to meet Kestrel sooner. “If they are watching all our drones, they may notice the change,” Jonathan commented.

Lydia nodded. “But it wouldn’t look as suspicious if we changed the courses of all our drones. We can bring them all back sooner to meet with us for recollection at the same time drone nine would be scheduled to catch up with us. That way it will look like we’ve decided to recall all our drones sooner.”

“It’s worth a try,” Jonathan decided. “Make it happen.”

Over the course of the next ten minutes, Lydia recalculated and altered the course of each of their active drones. Jonathan looked in on the simulation Cortez was running, but decided not to end it prematurely yet. Just six minutes after recon drone nine altered its course, the tactical console let out a series of beeps that Jonathan was intimately familiar with. A new contact had just been detected. In the blink of an eye, it appeared on the main holo plot. Right where Richards had identified, a ship was now accelerating hard, releasing gravimetric waves from its impulse engines. They saw through our ruse, Jonathan thought in disappointment. “Lay in an intercept course,” he ordered immediately. “Send the ship to battlestations.”

Most of Kestrel’s crew were unceremoniously dumped out of their simulation, and the light cruiser’s engines went to full power. On the holo display, Kestrel’s new course was projected. Jonathan’s right hand clenched into a fist, and he tapped it on his command chair. They weren’t going to catch the contact. The Protectorate ship, he corrected himself as Kestrel’s computer analyzed the gravimetric waves from the contact and identified it as a Protectorate destroyer. Kestrel had a slight acceleration edge, but the destroyer had too much of a head start. If we had not waited to change the drones course, we could have gotten closer, Jonathan thought, upset at himself. Yet, if there had been more than one ship, he would have walked his command right into a trap. Acknowledging that didn’t stop him being disappointed though. “Keep chasing him,” Jonathan said as he determined to not give up just yet. “Once he’s just a few minutes away from being able to jump out, cut our acceleration and turn towards the Omicron-three shift passage. Let’s let them think that is our next destination.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lydia responded.

“I presume we’re not going to Omicron-three?” Cortez asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, we will stick with our orders.”

The Pyrene system had shift passages leading to three other systems. Jonathan had been tasked with scouting the Dinaric system next. It just so happened that was where the Protectorate ship was heading. Even with his small ruse, it was very likely the Protectorate ship would be on high alert in the next system, but it was worth a try. “With luck though, we’re going to catch up to that ship sooner rather than later,” Jonathan said to his officers. “But if not, at the very least, Lvant will get word we are operating in this area of space. That will keep him guessing.”

*

Four days later, when Kestrel slipped into the Dinaric system, she did so far from the end of the shift passage and in stealth. For twelve hours, she cruised up to the mass shadow, a spread of stealth recon drones moving ahead of her. When no Protectorate ships were detected watching the end of the shift passage, Jonathan didn’t let his guard down. Instead, he slowly turned Kestrel towards the center of the system and remained in stealth. When they were about halfway through the system, his tactics finally paid off.

“I think I have a ship,” Lydia reported. “It’s not far from the system’s sun, actually pretty close to where Richards first detected the anomaly in the last system.”

“It’s definitely a ship?” Jonathan asked as a dot began to flash on the holo plot.

“I’m thinking it’s more like two,” Lydia replied. “One of our stealth drones is passing through the area. It has detected two different electromagnetic pulses.”

“All right then,” Jonathan said as he brought his hands together. “Let’s assume they haven’t detected us yet. On our current course, can we get close enough to cut off any attempt to escape.”

Cortez’s fingers were already dancing over her console. “Almost, but not quite,” she answered seconds later. “If we keep on this course until this point an hour from now, we could go active and rush them. They’d not be able to make it to the closest shift passage back towards their space, but they could turn and run for the passage to Omega-five.”

Jonathan brought up a hand to stroke his chin as he thought through the problem. It didn’t take long for something to come to him. “Maybe we can fake them into running for the wrong shift passage. If we come out of stealth at your point, we’ll almost be right on top of them. It’s bound to cause some panic. If we only give chase at eighty percent maximum acceleration, they may think there is time for them to take the quickest route home. How long could we maintain eighty percent before we’d have to go to full acceleration to stop them getting away?”

“If we held eighty percent for seven minutes, we’d still be able to bring them in range of our mark VIIs for five salvos before they could jump out,” Cortez answered.

Jonathan nodded; it was worth trying. The next question was, did they want to try and pick a fight? “Any more readings on the two ships?”

Lydia shook her head. “No more stray emissions have been picked up.”

“Well then, I guess we have to make a decision in the dark, thoughts?” Jonathan asked as he looked back and forth between his two senior officers.

“If they are Protectorate ships, and I doubt they’d belong to anyone else, they’re unlikely to have anything larger than a cruiser operating this far from their worlds,” Lydia said. “We know their light cruisers aren’t quite up to our standards, even if they are both light cruisers, I think we can take them.”

“Assuming there aren’t more ships,” Cortez replied. “But, I am in agreement, Captain. Our sudden appearance should spook them. If they have more ships, they’ll probably come out of stealth right away, which would give us time to run if we have to.”

Unless whoever is in command is a sly one, Jonathan thought. That would be just the move to make if there were more ships. Two or three could power up and pretend they were all there was, while several more stayed in stealth and allowed Kestrel to come close enough to where she couldn’t escape. But we have to take the risk, he told himself, that is why we are here, to engage Protectorate scouts. He quickly came to a decision.

“Launch a stealth drone towards where we think they are,” he commanded. “I want it in position just as we’re going to come out of stealth. We’ll have it go active and confirm just how many ships we’re facing before we go charging headfirst after them.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lydia said enthusiastically.

“Shall I send the crew to get their lunch early?” Cortez asked. “Once the chase begins, there will be little chance to eat.”

Jonathan nodded. “Do that, and then send everyone to battle stations. We need to be ready for any surprises.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Lydia turned round from her sensor console to look at Jonathan. Jonathan nodded. “Launch the probe.” Seconds later, the stealth recon drones were shot out of one of Kestrel’s missile tubes.

“The probe is in place,” Lydia reported four minutes later.

“Navigation, take us out of stealth, eighty percent thrust,” Jonathan ordered.

Detecting Kestrel the second her impulse engines powered up, the Protectorate ships responded quickly. Two new contacts appeared on the holo display as they powered up their own engines and turned away from the threat. Kestrel’s computer identified them as destroyers. “Going active with the recon drones now,” Lydia announced. On the holo display, a new contact appeared seconds later as the drone emitted gigajoules of electromagnetic energy from its active sensors. “No sign of any additional ships in the vicinity of where those two were hiding.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan replied. “We can take two destroyers. Now, which way will they flee?”

Everyone on the bridge watched in silence as the two enemy ships decided what to do. Initially, they had simply turned away from Kestrel to get as much space as they could. Now, their captains had to decide what to do next. In theory, two Protectorate destroyers stood a chance against an Imperial light cruiser. Yet, Kestrel was clearly larger than a standard light cruiser, and her unusual shape would give the enemy Captains pause.

For seven minutes, the Protectorate ships didn’t alter their course. Almost, Jonathan thought they were going to turn and fight. But then, their profiles on the holo display began to change. Jonathan held his breath. “They’re turning towards the shift passage back to their space!” Cortez said with a smile. “We have them.”

Jonathan was smiling too. “Inform the crew we’re going to engage the enemy ships momentarily. Let’s give the Protectorate ships a few minutes to settle onto their course.” As soon as Jonathan was confident the two contacts were committed to their course, he turned to Scholes. “Okay, bring us up to full acceleration, let’s let them know they have made a mistake.”

As Kestrel increased her acceleration rate, the projected courses of the ships on the holo plot altered until they almost merged. “Confirmed, Captain,” Cortez said. “Unless they turn to engage us, we should get off five salvos. We’ll get into range with our mark VIIs in twenty minutes.”

“Begin working on firing solutions, we will concentrate on bravo-one first,” Jonathan ordered.

With their range advantage and the fact Kestrel was chasing the two Protectorate destroyers, the Protectorates were able to open fire first. Automatically, Harte deployed the eight drones. With just sixteen missiles closing with Kestrel, he moved the drones ahead of the cruiser to give them a longer engagement time. Even if the destroyers tried to target them, it would be an all but impossible shot for the single grazer beam Protectorate long range missiles released. “Firing,” Lieutenant Artex announced as she shot Kestrel’s fourteen missiles after bravo-one.

The battle played out largely as Jonathan expected. Between the eight point defense drones and Artex’s defensive fire, none of the missiles from the first three enemy salvos got close enough to release their grazer beams. In contrast, one antimatter warhead from the multistage mark VIIs got close enough to score a proximity hit. Neither the destroyer’s engines nor missile tubes were damaged, but sections of her hull were scorched, reducing the effectiveness of her defenses. As a result, when the fourth of Artex’s salvos came in, two more proximity hits were scored. To everyone on Kestrel’s amazement, bravo-one managed to fly though the antimatter waves without being completely wiped out. However, visuals of the ship showed it had been badly mauled.

“We’ll have them with the next one,” Jonathan said, certain bravo-one couldn’t fend off another attack. And then, bravo-two will have to face one full salvo on its own.

“Incoming,” Lydia shouted pulling Jonathan’s mind from bravo-two.

Two Protectorate missiles were still charging Kestrel, dodging the fire coming from the PD drones and Kestrel’s weapons. “Evasive maneuvers!” Jonathan shouted. Before he finished, one of the missiles was shot down. Just as Kestrel started to move, the second detonated, sending its thermonuclear energy lancing out towards Kestrel in the form of a grazer beam. It hit the light cruiser’s shield at an acute angle, burning off most of its force before piercing through and striking Kestrel’s armor. Jonathan felt a tremor shake him in his command chair as damage alarms began to blare. He swung around to Cortez.

“We’ve been hit amidships, deck fourteen. One section has decompressed. Only minor damage being reported so far,” she reported.

“One mass driver cannon isn’t responding to a system’s check,” Artex added. “Every other weapons system is fully functioning.”

“Get repair teams to that decompressed section,” Jonathan ordered. “And then, let’s finish bravo-one.”

It didn’t take long for Artex to fire her next salvo. When it caught up to bravo-one, the destroyer didn’t stand a chance. Putting out less than a third of the defensive fire it had at first, three antimatter missiles struck it. When the antimatter dissipated, the destroyer was gone.

“Now for bravo-two,” Jonathan said as he turned his attention to the second destroyer.

“I’m sorry, Captain, I don’t think we can,” Cortez said, her tone full of remorse. “Bravo-two will be able to jump out before our sixth salvo reaches it,” she explained when Jonathan turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we had time for six salvos,” Jonathan said as he turned back to bravo-two and saw that it was getting close to the system’s mass shadow. Before anyone answered him, bravo-two disappeared as it jumped into shift space. “Well?” Jonathan asked as he turned to Cortez.

“It’s my fault,” Cortez said. “I estimated our salvos based on our fire rate from our recent training exercises.” Cortez looked down for a second before continuing. “We only managed a salvo on average every five minutes and three seconds.”

Jonathan ground his teeth together as he controlled his emotions. They had got their timing down to four minutes and forty seconds in training. But, combat isn’t like running a drill, he reminded himself. He had to take a deep breath. “No, it’s no one’s fault,” he replied, knowing Cortez was covering for Artex, her team, and the missile gunners. “We just need to keep improving. We destroyed one enemy ship, that will have to be enough for today. Stand down from battle stations and reduce acceleration to ninety-five percent maximum. We will follow that destroyer as it has headed for the next system we need to survey. If we can catch it, then we will finish what we have started. If not, we will continue to rendezvous with the rest of Commodore Magnuson’s squadron. Either way, I want our firing rate improved. Is that understood?”

“Understood,” Cortez replied, the rest of the bridge officers nodding with her.

Jonathan turned away from them to hide his disappointment. Achilles would never have allowed the second destroyer to escape. But, we will get there, he promised himself even as he determined to increase the drills they had been running. A few surprise drills when most of the crew are sleeping may be called for, he decided.

Chapter 4

In interstellar warfare, being on the defensive almost always is a disadvantage. Unless one has a well defended choke point to make a stand, trying to protect widely spread out systems can quickly lead to disaster.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Farvul’vian system.

As his flagship exited shift space into the system it had left five months ago, Admiral Lvant let out a small sigh of relief. Partly, he was just happy to be back in one of his species’ systems. For a brief moment at the Battle of the Wormhole, as his people had come to call it, he had thought he might not have been coming home. It was also reassuring to see several hundred warships sitting in orbit around Farvul’vian. He had dispatched his fastest ships after the defeat to bring news of the disaster and to call all the nearby ships to Farvul’vian. He doubted the system was in serious threat just yet. But, he was certain that unless he regained the initiative, the Humans would eventually decide they could make a move on his people’s systems.

Lvant’s whole body tensed as he thought back to the battle. He had underestimated the Humans more than once. On the journey home, he had vowed he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He knew his career was in tatters, but he had to find a way to salvage it. Though he had successfully destroyed most of the Humans’ fortifications in the Bastion system, he had failed to destroy their fleet base there. Worse, he had lost most of his supply fleet and been forced to retreat to join the fleet guarding the Humans’ wormhole to make use of their supplies. Yet, he had arrived there only to have the Humans manage to force a large formation of their small attack craft through his fleet to reopen the wormhole. The speed and ferocity at which more Human ships had come through the wormhole to reinforce their comrades had caught Lvant by surprise. He was still certain that if he hadn’t retreated when he did, he could have lost all his ships.

None of that would make any difference to Eaglaton Admiral Reverus, he was sure. The Supreme Commander of the Higarian sector would be furious that Lvant had started the war early, lost so many ships, and had no real gains to show for it. He had also lost four of their anti-eddy ships. Lvant wasn’t even sure Reverus had any more to replace them. If he didn’t, then there would be no way to stop the Humans from bringing in more and more ships to reinforce their position and their allies’ worlds. The war that was supposed to be a short, sharp engagement could turn into a multiyear-long war of attrition.

Lvant had no fears that the Eaglaton Protectorate would lose such a struggle. They had been preparing for over a generation to face the Karacknid Empire. But valuable ships and their crews that were meant to face the Karacknids would be lost. Lvant swore under his breath, so his subordinates didn’t hear. The Humans had ruined everything. He had spent four decades rising up through the Protectorate Navy just waiting for the day when he would get to lead his people’s fleet against the Karacknids. And then, the Humans had appeared twenty years ago, throwing a spanner in the Eaglaton’s plans. Still, once a few alterations were made, Lvant had still believed he would gain all the glory he could have ever dreamed of by crushing them. Only for one of their ships to spoil everything by discovering his invasion fleet a full year before he had been scheduled to launch his attack. Now, his chance for glory had come and gone. All that was left now was to cover over the disaster he had caused as much as possible.

“Take us into orbit,” Lvant ordered as soon as all his ships transitioned out of shift space. The first part of making amends was reasserting control over the system and getting a grasp on the wider strategic situation. “Send a request for all fleet reports to be sent to me at once,” he added.

An hour later, his request had reached Farvul’vian, and the reports sent back to his flagship. Lvant’s fingers hesitated as he saw several reports from the raiding fleets he had sent against the Conclave worlds and a report from Admiral Reverus. Knowing Reverus wasn’t likely to have anything positive to say, he selected the reports from his other fleets. Since his retreat from Bastion, his lines of communication had been cut with them. As he read, he grimaced. One of his three fleets had encountered a Human fleet not far from Bastion and been largely destroyed. Though they took many enemy ships with them, Lvant said to himself as he read the estimated enemy casualties. If those Human ships had joined up with the fleet that attacked me at Bastion, they could have destroyed us as well.

Reading on, some better news greeted him. The two other fleets he had operating in Conclave space had been driven back, but with minimal losses. As of the date of the report, they were still along the borders of the Conclave species’ territories causing mischief. That was good, both fleets would give the Human reinforcements something to worry about. With luck, they would buy him several weeks, if not two months or more, to prepare for when they would eventually turn their attention to moving on his positions. “Dispatch messenger ships to Rear Admirals Hargar and Novolus, include reports on everything that has happened to us. Inform them I want them to draw as much Human attention their way as they can. The Humans are likely to move their fleet to Bastion and then work to secure their borders. Hargar and Novolus need to buy us time, but they are not to risk their fleets. At the first sign of significant enemy forces, they are to fall back here.”

“Yes, Admiral,” one of Lvant’s staff officers responded.

Lvant felt a little better as several fast frigates left the fleet. One thing from the reports still worried him, though he tried not to think about it. Like at Bastion and the wormhole, the alien species that the Humans had enslaved had fought fiercely. Just as bad, it appeared that their ships were all crewed entirely by their own people. He had anticipated Human captains and officers to be overseeing their ships. Of course, no one had expected the Conclave species to immediately rise up against their Human conquerors, but they fought with a fierceness that unnerved Lvant. The same fierceness the other alien ships that had come though the wormhole with the Human reinforcements had fought with. In the long term, if their resistance continued, it could be a real problem. It was worrying, at least, it was if he allowed himself to dwell on it. That is a problem for another time, he told himself as his finger reluctantly moved to the report from Admiral Reverus.

He swallowed hard as he began to read. Reverus was not happy, not at all. He was furious that Lvant had begun the war early, before any of the main attacking fleets were even at their staging areas. Despite his fear of the Eaglaton Admiral, relief did wash over him when he read Reverus had many of his fleet elements now on the move. The lead squadrons were still several months away, but they would be here soon. Not so pleasing were the orders Reverus included with his report. Lvant was to hold his positions at the wormhole and Bastion, and not overextend himself. If Reverus was not happy now, he would be furious when he found out Lvant had already lost both positions. Especially the wormhole, for now Human reinforcements would be pouring into the sector.

Lvant let out a long slow breath. There was no salvaging the situation. Reverus was sure to relieve him of command the second he made it to Farvul’vian. All you can do is secure our borders and gather intel on the Human fleet, he told himself. They’ll likely move to secure Bastion and then drive off Hargar’s and Novolus’s fleets. If I can present Reverus with an accurate picture of the Human positions and a plan to defeat them, then maybe he will still let me keep command of a squadron or two. At this point, Lvant knew he couldn’t hope for anything more.

*

IS Kestrel, Ural system, 2nd February 2510 AD, (eight days later).

Having been given the longest scouting patrol on the far-left flank of Magnusson’s squadron, Kestrel was the last to arrive at the rendezvous point. She did so without being able to bring bravo-two to battle. In the next system, there had been no sign of the Protectorate destroyer. After spending several hours searching the system with no results, Jonathan had been forced to give up the chase and resume his patrol. Despite having passed through two more systems on their way to the rendezvous point in the Ural system, they had encountered no sign of any additional Protectorate ships. However, Jonathan hadn’t been able to shake the feeling they were being watched.

“Indominable has acknowledged our report, Captain,” Lieutenant Abrahams said from his seat at the COMs console. “Commodore Magnusson has scheduled a Captain’s holo conference in twenty minutes. Indominable is also forwarding each of the squadron’s patrol reports.”

“Very good,” Jonathan said. “Send them to me, I’ll read them now before the conference.”

It didn’t take long for Jonathan to scan through the reports. Commodore Magnusson’s force had been split into six groups, and together, they had covered nineteen systems. Protectorate ships had been sighted in seven of them. Only two other engagements had resulted, and in both cases the Protectorate ships had escaped to bring news of Magnuson’s force back to Lvant. That made Jonathan feel a little better about his own failure to destroy bravo-two.

“They certainly have a lot of scout ships out and about,” Cortez commented from her command chair as she read through the reports too.

“Lvant must be nervous,” Jonathan replied. “After everything that’s happened, I suppose that’s understandable. With squadrons like ours pushing forward all across the systems between the wormhole and Bastion, I imagine he’s going to start getting a host of contact reports coming in pretty soon. I wouldn’t want to have the responsibility of sifting through them all.”

“What do you think our next orders will be?” Lydia asked.

Jonathan shrugged. “Probably, we keep pushing forward. The fleet is bound to have left the wormhole by now. They’ll be headed for Ulan’nagn. The more systems we can poke our noses into, the harder it will be for Lvant’s scouts to find Becket’s main force, let alone figure out where it is going.”

“You don’t think we’ll move back to join them?” Lydia followed up.

Jonathan considered the question for a moment. If there was going to be a fight at Ulan’nagn, he wanted to be there, but Magnusson’s squadron consisted of one heavy cruiser, two medium and three light cruisers along with fourteen other destroyers, frigates, and corvettes. Given Becket had over eighty dreadnaughts and battleships, Magnusson’s force wasn’t going to be missed. “I rather doubt it, we’ll be keeping any Protectorate scouts from moving in along our left flank.”

“And looking out for a flanking attack,” Cortez added.

Jonathan smiled at her. Cortez still thought Lvant might try and move in behind the Allied fleet as it advanced, but Jonathan was all but certain Lvant had retreated back to Ulan’nagn or perhaps even as far as Farvul’vian. Given how much damage Becket’s raid had done to the gas mining and supply facilities in the Bar’samin’s home system, it was unlikely Ulan’nagn could keep Lvant’s fleet in supply for long.

“Whatever is next, I guess it’s time to go and find out,” Jonathan said as he glanced at his chronometer. It was time for the Captain’s conference. “Cortez, you have the bridge,” he said as he stood.

“Captains, well met,” Commodore Magnusson said after all the Captains of his flotilla connected with Indomitable. “Some of us have had a more adventurous time than others, but I’m pleased we have all arrived here safely. By now, Admiral Becket and the Allied Fleet will be less than a week away from Ulan’nagn. Rear Admiral Salamanca’s squadrons will have been swarming around the Bar’samin colony to obscure the fleet’s final approach. We and the rest of Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet have been tasked with pushing past Ulan’nagn to make it look like we may be heading straight for Farvul’vian, whilst Admiral Shraw’s fleet has been clearing the approaches to Bastion to make it look like our main fleet could be headed there.

“Our next task in this exercise is to move through several systems as we pass the Dudl’lon world of Dudllias. We will continue to clear out any Protectorate scouts we encounter. As we’re getting close to the Protectorate base at Ulan’nagn, we will be forming up into four flotillas to work together. I’m sending your assignments now. The senior Captains of each flotilla will also be receiving the route I have planned for them. We will take various routes to the Sirus-five system and rendezvous there. By then, I expect word to have reached us regarding the attack on Ulan’nagn and with new orders. Have a look at your assignments and let me know if you have any questions.”

Jonathan quickly looked at his datapad. His eyebrows shot up when he saw Kestrel was to lead one of the flotillas. Two destroyers and two corvettes would be joining him. Jonathan felt a few butterflies jump around in his stomach. He had some experience organizing larger groups of ships having served on Admiral Becket’s command staff, yet the buck had never actually stopped with him. Now, he was going to be responsible for five ships instead of just one. At the same time, he couldn’t fight the small smile that played on the edge of his lips. More responsibility meant he would be able to have more of a say in the outcome of the war with the Protectorates.

Deciding he was happy that Magnusson was showing confidence in him, he pulled up the patrol route the Commodore had assigned him. Jonathan frowned when he saw his ships would pass right by the Dudllias system, but not stop at it. When he looked up again, Magnusson was already staring at him. “Something on your mind, Captain Somerville?” The Commodore asked.

“I don’t mean to question orders, Commodore,” Jonathan said as respectfully as he could, “but I was wondering about the Dudllias system. Shouldn’t one of our flotillas check it out? There could be Protectorate scouts operating from there.”

Magnusson nodded. “That is a possibility I have considered, Captain. But, Rear Admiral Salamanca’s words to King Krilim were clear, we promised not to return if they destroyed their gas mining facilities. They kept their end of the bargain; my orders are that we are to do the same.”

“But, shouldn’t we poke our noses in just to see?” Jonathan pressed. “If we stay in the outer system, the Dudl’lons won’t know we were even there. And if there is trouble, it may be that they would welcome help. I’ve spoken with Krilim face to face. I’m sure he was not happy with Salamanca’s ultimatum, but he would be even less happy with a Protectorate occupation.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Captain, but my orders are clear,” Magnusson replied, speaking slowly. “However, if something was to draw your attention to the system. Perhaps if a Protectorate scout was spotted fleeing that way, then you would be duty-bound to check it out, wouldn’t you?”

Jonathan smiled when he saw just what Magnusson was doing. It wasn’t a coincidence that his patrol route already took him close to Dudllias. Most Captains would be risking their careers if they disobeyed the clear orders Magnusson had been given. He, on the other hand, had a little more leeway. And I know Krilim, even if the King spots us and is upset, I can calm him down where others couldn’t, Jonathan thought. He gave Magnusson a nod. “I think I understand, Commodore. Your orders are clear.”

Magnusson nodded back. “In that case, are there any other questions?”

The Captains had several, and Jonathan listened as Magnusson discussed each of them, even adding his own thoughts here and there. Though several of the Captains were senior to him, including the two medium cruiser Captains, he had the most battle experience of them all. Especially when it came to fighting Protectorate ships.

After half an hour, Magnusson brought the discussion to an end. Jonathan wasted no time starting a new holo conference with the Captains in his flotilla. “Captains, it is a pleasure to be leading our flotilla,” Jonathan began. “We will have a lot of work to do together to get accustomed to one another. Especially with Kestrel in the mix. With her PD drones, she has more defensive firepower than a medium cruiser, a surprise for the right enemy. Yet, my people are still learning how to use our drones to their best advantage. It will take all of us to figure out how to integrate them into our flotilla, but I am sure my people and yours are up to the challenge.” Jonathan paused and looked at each of the Captains. They nodded or made another gesture to acknowledge his words. “Very good,” he continued. “Are there any questions then?”

Unsurprisingly, each Captain had several. Most revolved around Kestrel’s PD drones and how they had fared in the battle with the two Protectorate destroyers. Both destroyer Captains tried to draw Jonathan out on what exactly he planned to do regarding Dudllias. That was understandable, as the next two senior Captains in the flotilla, if he did disobey orders, some of the blowback could land on them. Jonathan simply smiled and deflected their questions. He had his mother’s training to thank for the ease at which he did so.

Just ten minutes later, Jonathan already felt like he was starting to get a better understanding of his Captains. He knew he wouldn’t really get to know them until they carried out some battle simulations, and he got to see each in a combat situation. He had heard enough for now, however. “All right,” he said as he brought his hands together in a clap. “We have our orders; I can’t imagine any of the other flotillas will be hanging around. We can talk more as we go. Let’s end here for now and get our ships moving. There may very well be Protectorate ships out there just waiting for us to come along and find them.”

The way each of the four Captains responded to his words made Jonathan smile. It seemed that either Admiral Becket or Rear Admiral Davenport had assigned some of the most gung-ho Captains to Commodore Magnusson’s squadron. Of course, that made sense, where best to use your most aggressive Captains than in a forward screening squadron tasked with probing the enemies’ guiding forces? As the faces of his Captains disappeared, Jonathan shook his head at himself. He had never considered himself particularly gung-ho, yet he guessed that was how Becket or Davenport, or more likely both of them, saw him. Well, if we do end up going to Dudllias, I’m going to cement that image even more, he said to himself.

Chapter 5

The Empire’s struggle against the Protectorates may not be one of the most closely studied wars in our history, for a number of reasons, politics being among the most influential. Nevertheless, for the keen student of military warfare, there are vital lessons that can be learned.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, 11th February 2510 AD, (nine days later).

Kestrel’s patrol through the next two systems was not like her previous ones. In both, Protectorate scouts were detected within minutes of entering the system. Picking up the five Imperial ships, they fled before Jonathan could bring them to battle. Magnusson’s orders called for each system to be searched thoroughly to ensure the Protectorate didn’t try to hide a ship in the system. As a result, it took a full two days to cover each system, even with Jonathan splitting his ships up and launching over fifty active recon drones.

As he had come to expect, when his small flotilla entered their third system, the one that had a shift passage leading to the Dudllias system, a new contact appeared as soon as they started their active scans. “It’s bearing for the Mangrove system,” Lydia reported as she glanced up from her console, a look of disappointment on her face. Jonathan and Cortez shared it with her. They had been hoping the ship would flee towards Dudllias, and give them the excuse they were looking for.

“No chance we can catch it?” Jonathan asked, more out of hope than belief.

Lydia shook her head. “Sorry, Captain, even the frigates couldn’t catch up to her, she is too far away.”

“Alright then, begin the prearranged search pattern,” Jonathan ordered as he sat back in his command chair. The lack of a Protectorate ship fleeing towards Dudllias didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t going to take his flotilla to King Krilim’s system, it just meant he’d have to think about it a little harder. Without a clear excuse, he would have no cover if Magnusson or someone above him decided they weren’t pleased with his actions.

For four hours, Jonathan remained on Kestrel’s bridge as the five ships under his command and more than eighty active recon drones began to spread out across the system. He knew if he was in the Protectorates’ position, he might order one scout ship to flee at the first sign of enemy ships while keeping another hidden to watch what they would do, or even slip behind them and try and get a glimpse at what the main enemy fleet was doing. He therefore wasn’t surprised when Abrahams turned to pass on a report from Wasp.

“Wasp is reporting a possible contact report,” Abrahams said excitedly. “Bringing the coordinates onto the holo display now.”

Jonathan smiled as he read the data accompanying Wasp’s report. The destroyer had almost certainly picked up a few stray emissions from an enemy ship. One of the active recon drones had come close enough for some of its electromagnetic energy to reflect off the Protectorate ship’s hull. Wisely, Captain Henning hadn’t altered Wasp’s course. The Protectorate ship would know there was a chance they had been detected, but it couldn’t be sure yet.

“Call the crew to battle stations,” Jonathan ordered, and then ignored the commotion around him as he studied the holo display. He needed to find a way to trap the Protectorate ship, for if he simply turned and tried to close with it, it was far enough away that it could flee. Or engage Wasp if it’s an enemy cruiser, Jonathan reminded himself. When an idea started to form in his mind, he began to type orders into his command chair. “Send these course corrections to the other ships in our flotilla,” he requested.

“Aye, Captain,” Abrahams replied.

“What is going on?” Cortez asked as she stepped onto the bridge, followed by Lydia. Jonathan had dismissed them both to get some rest, knowing the search of the system would take at least a day and a half.

“It seems there may have been a second enemy ship in the system after all,” Jonathan explained. “Wasp detected a possible contact half an hour ago and sent a contact report. I’ve just sent new orders to the flotilla. With a bit of luck, we may be able to bring it into combat.”

Cortez smiled the same predatory smile Jonathan had just a minute ago. “That will beat flying back and forth across the system. Is Wasp the closest ship?”

Jonathan nodded. “She is, but we are the ones who are initially going to give chase. Whatever the contact is, she’ll be afraid of us the most. We’re going to use that.” As Cortez and Lydia sat down in their command chairs, Jonathan sent his plan over to them.

Lydia stretched her arms out, and then began to crack her knuckles. “This is going to be fun. It’s nice to be the ones with the numerical advantage for a change.”

“Let’s just make sure we don’t waste it,” Jonathan said loud enough for all of his officers to hear. “One too many enemy ships have escaped our clutches already. I don’t want this one getting away.”

Lydia’s facial features changed as she nodded somberly. The mood around her also hardened as everyone remembered their last failure. Jonathan gave himself a mental nod; that was what he had been going for. He waited another ten minutes for his ships to get into the position his plan called for, and then he turned to Lieutenant Abrahams. “Let’s begin,” he ordered.

“Sending the go order now, Captain,” Abrahams replied.

It took four minutes for the order to reach Wasp, and then the other ships in Jonathan’s flotilla. When it did, they began to alter their headings. Intentionally, none moved onto new trajectories that would bring them closer to the possible contact, but if there was a Protectorate ship out there, they would have to be growing suspicious by the sudden change in the flotilla’s search pattern. The only ship not to move was Kestrel. Another fifty minutes passed before Lieutenant Scholes glanced at Jonathan from his navigation console. Jonathan nodded in reply. Immediately Scholes turned Kestrel’s nose directly towards where Wasp had detected the possible ship. At the same time, the light cruiser’s engines went to full power.

It took less than thirty seconds to find out if the contact was real, for almost immediately, Kestrel’s gravimetric sensors began to blare a warning. Right where Wasp had predicted, a ship was being detected as its engines roared to life. Jonathan leaned forward in his command chair as he willed the enemy ship to turn. He broke into a smile as the Protectorate ship, a destroyer according to Kestrel’s computer, turned towards the Dudllias shift passage.

When the first Protectorate destroyer hadn’t run towards Dudllias’ shift passage, Jonathan had suspected it had been trying not to draw his attention to King Krilim’s system. This was why the second ship was now trying to sneak there. Thinking the first had his attention, the second would bring news to whatever Protectorates forces were likely at Dudllias. Except, Jonathan had no intention of letting that happen.

Having anticipated the enemy ships’ course, Jonathan only had to glance at Scholes and nod again. Kestrel turned onto a new trajectory that would cut off the destroyer’s route of escape. Understandably, the enemy destroyer altered its course soon after. This time, it began to make for the system’s fourth planet, evidently planning to slingshot around it to avoid Kestrel and still reach the Dudllias shift passage. Ten minutes later, Wasp and the frigate Scimitar rendezvoused with one another. As soon as they did, they moved to block off the primary route the Protectorate destroyer could take after slingshotting around the fourth planet. Minutes later, Unicorn and Greyhound also rendezvoused, and the second destroyer and frigate in Jonathan’s flotilla moved to cut off another potential route the Protectorate ship could take. Seeing the two new threats, the Protectorate destroyer gave up heading for the system’s fourth planet and tried to plot another course to the Dudllias shift passage.

Over the next hour, a delicate game of back-and-forth developed. Though the Protectorate destroyer had started the pursuit with a significant range advantage, Jonathan expertly used his three groups of ships to hem his target in. He kept Kestrel behind the Protectorate destroyer, as he knew its Captain would want to engage his light cruiser the least, and so he used Kestrel to shepherd the enemy ship right where he wanted.

“We have him,” Jonathan said as the Protectorate ship turned away from Kestrel for the seventh time right onto the trajectory he had been waiting for. “Wasp and Scimitar are going to be able to engage.” In an ideal world, Jonathan would have preferred Kestrel to be the one going head-to-head with the enemy destroyer, but the enemy Captain was not nearly foolish enough to allow that to happen. However, in just seven minutes, Wasp and Scimitar would be at a point where Jonathan could order one more course change around the system’s seventh planet, and the Protectorate ship wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Captain, I was thinking, maybe we don’t want to catch the destroyer,” Cortez said, breaking Jonathan from his focus on the enemy ship.

“What do you mean?” He asked his First Lieutenant.

“By now, it’s clear that ship desperately wants to get to Dudllias,” Cortez explained. “Maybe we should let them go. That way, we have the perfect excuse to follow.”

Jonathan nodded. He had been so focused on destroying the enemy ship and making up for the destroyer that had escaped his clutches at Dinaric, that he hadn’t considered that possibility. Only when he switched his focus from the chase did he realize something else had been bothering him. “That’s worth considering,” he replied. “But, maybe we need to ask, why is this ship so set on getting to Dudllias? It’s had a couple of chances to try and make a break for another one of the shift passages and didn’t take it. Yet, we know the last time Salamanca visited the system, the Dudl’lons had over sixty warships. Taking one single Protectorate destroyer there seems risky, and yet, this enemy Captain is dead set on it.”

Cortez’s eyebrows rose. “You think there may be other Protectorate ships at Dudllias?”

“Maybe, or at least there may have been,” Jonathan replied slowly. “Either way, I’m not so sure King Krilim would have welcomed them with open arms. The fact this ship is trying so hard to get to Dudllias may be reason enough for us to take the flotilla there.”

“Which means we need to destroy this ship now,” Cortez said, changing her mind. “If there are ships at Dudllias, we won’t want them getting any warning of our approach, would we?” she said when Jonathan looked at her.

Jonathan smiled. “No, indeed we wouldn’t.” He turned to Abrahams. “Send the next course change to Wasp, instruct Captain Henning the enemy destroyer is not to escape.”

“Wasp has acknowledged, Captain,” Abrahams reported fifteen seconds later. “Captain Henning has said it will be their pleasure to bring the chase to an end.”

It took another forty minutes for Wasp and Scimitar to force the Protectorate destroyer into an engagement. In contrast, the battle was over very quickly. At least, for everyone but Jonathan. Having to watch two ships he had sent into battle whilst he could do nothing to aid them made every second drag, and every enemy missile fired at his ships seem like it would bring certain death and destruction. However, none of Jonathan’s fears were realized. Between them, Wasp and Scimitar fired three volleys of fifteen missiles at the Protectorate destroyer. It could only fire back with nine missiles of its own. The missiles from both combatants’ first salvos were destroyed by defensive fire. However, as gunners and tactical officers altered their missiles’ ECM based on analyzing their enemy, the next salvos were more effective. One Protectorate missile got close enough to detonate and fire a grazer beam at Wasp. The destroyer’s shield absorbed most of the destructive energy, but enough got through to pierce her armor and breach through two decks.

Jonathan held his breath until an update reached Kestrel showing only minimum damage had been suffered. Outnumbered, the Protectorate destroyer wasn’t so lucky. Two antimatter missiles from Wasp and Scimitar scored proximity hits in the second salvo. Sections of the destroyer were burnt away, though thanks to the modular design of Protectorate ships, the destroyer only lost ten percent of its thrust and remained intact. It wasn’t so lucky in the third salvo.

Coming close enough to fire mark VIII missiles, Henning got six of her missiles into attack range. Each detonated, releasing three laser beams. Six scored hits despite the destroyer’s evasive maneuvers. Two of the beams hit already damaged sections and blew right out through the destroyer’s other side. In the space of seconds, the destroyer broke apart into several sections which began to tumble away from each other. The rearmost section detonated moments later as an engine overloaded. The explosive force smashed into the other sections, warping and twisting them and flinging them further apart. The final salvo the Protectorate destroyer had fired, already on its way towards Wasp, consisted of just seven missiles, two missile tubes having been damaged by the antimatter. Wasp and Scimitar easily handled them.

“Congratulate Wasp and Scimitar on a well-fought battle,” Jonathan said as soon as the last Protectorate missile was destroyed. “Make sure Wasp knows if they need any assistance on their repairs, they need only to ask. Scholes, work out a rendezvous trajectory for each of our ships, I want to meet just before the Dudllias shift passage. We’re going to go and see just why this destroyer was so desperate to get to the Dudl’lons’ system.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes said excitedly.

*

Three days later, Jonathan couldn’t help but blame himself for what he was looking at. Hiding in stealth, Kestrel’s passive sensors and the two stealth recon drones they had fired into the system were giving him a pretty good picture of what was going on, and it wasn’t good. He couldn’t help but feel that if he hadn’t come to the Dudllias system, if he hadn’t gone on to Farvul’vian, the Dudl’lons wouldn’t be in the trouble they were in. Yet, he couldn’t change the past.

The system was full of signs of wreckage. About ten light minutes out from the planet, there was a large ball of debris that had to be the remains of King Krilim’s fleet. Around the planet itself, almost half of the stations Jonathan remembered were gone. In addition, other debris fields were strung out throughout the system where the Dudl’lons had once had asteroid mining operations. If Krilim was still alive, Jonathan was sure Krilim blamed him as well. And Salamanca’s promise proved empty, Jonathan thought. Krilim destroying the gas mining and storage facilities his people had built hadn’t saved them.

The four freighters in orbit around the system’s rich gas giant were the reason why. The
Protectorates had decided the Dudl’lon system was too important to simply ignore, and so they were hard at work rebuilding a gas mining station. They are preparing for a long war of attrition, and so they are making the necessary arrangements, Jonathan decided. That was not an encouraging thought.

The question for him now was, what was he to do next? Alongside the four freighters, there were ten Protectorate warships. Six were in orbit around Dudllias, while four were in a small flotilla patrolling the approaches to the gas giant. In his heart, Jonathan knew what he wanted. If he was responsible, then he needed to do something about it. Yet, to do so, he would have to convince his fellow Captains to face odds that were worse than two to one.

“All right,” Jonathan said as he stood, “I’ve seen enough. Cortez, with me. Lydia, you have the bridge. Abrahams, inform the Captains I will speak with them now.” Stepping off the bridge, Jonathan moved to his office and activated the holo display. As Cortez sat down beside him, a projection of each of the Captains of the other four ships in his flotilla appeared in front of them. Jonathan took a deep breath before beginning. As he spoke, he summoned the authoritative tone he had often seen his mother use. “Captains, we have a decision before us. It appears we have caught this small occupation fleet at unawares. We could attack now, or send word to Magnusson and await a larger force.” Instead of just sharing his desired choice, Jonathan did what he had seen his father and Becket do a number of times. He allowed his subordinates to speak their mind. He needed them to feel involved in the decision-making process, for only then would they give of their best. “What are your thoughts?”

“It is a sizable enemy force,” Captain Henning said. “One medium cruiser, one light, four destroyers and four frigates. By tonnage, we are almost outnumbered three to one. I know we are all keen to prove our mettle. But, taking on such a force, even if they are spread out, would be quite the feat. And if we lost, we would be letting the Protectorate know we are aware of their operation here. I’m sure they could quickly bring reinforcements in.”

“And yet, delaying has its own risks,” Captain Nash of Scimitar countered. “It looks like construction is nearly complete on at least one of the extractors of that gas mining station. Once it’s up and running, the Protectorate could use this system as a forward base to move their fleet in to threaten the flank of Admiral Becket’s advance towards Ulan’nagn. We could send for help only to find more Protectorate ships have arrived here to secure the location before Commodore Magnusson is able to join us.”

Jonathan nodded at Nash’s words. He and Henning had quickly come to the heart of it. Either they risked their ships now with the odds seriously against them, or they risked more Protectorate ships coming to reinforce the system. Putting himself in Lvant’s mind, Jonathan could see the Protectorate Admiral wanting to reinforce the system after his defeat at the wormhole. If the Protectorates feared the Empire would make a move on their fleet base at Farvul’vian, then fortifying Dudllias alongside Ulan’nagn made a lot of sense.

For several minutes, Jonathan let Henning, Nash, Unicorn’s Captain Souness and Greyhound’s Captain Willock discuss the pros and cons of each approach. Just as he expected, none of the Captains showed any fear of going head-to-head with the Protectorate ships. Their only hesitation was the risk to their crews and the potential for failure. When a new voice entered the conversation, Jonathan was momentarily confused, apart from Cortez, he had forgotten anyone else was in the room with them. Of course he had overlooked his shadow.

“I’m sorry to speak out of turn, Captains,” Major Samuels said quickly, not looking at Jonathan. “But, there is another angle you may be overlooking. Dudllias and the Dudl’lon people. When we were there with Achilles, we made friends with them. King Krilim came to trust our Captain. Salamanca’s actions may have soured that somewhat, but he was acting in the Dudl’lons’ best interest. We should do the same. If we were speaking of a Human world, we wouldn’t hesitate to act. Leaving it in the hands of the enemy would be unthinkable. We don’t know what they have done to Krilim or their populace, but clearly, they had no qualms about destroying their fleet, orbital defenses, and stations. So, I doubt it is anything good.”

Jonathan’s face tightened as he waited for Becca to finish. As soon as she did, he shot her a stern look. “I apologize, Captains, the commander of my Imperial Guard detachment sometimes forgets her place. This is meant to be a Captains’ conference, she speaks out of turn…” Turning slightly, Jonathan gave her another cold stare. To his frustration, Becca looked back at him without a hint of remorse. Rolling his eyes, he tried to ignore her and focus on his Captains. “But, she is right,” he was forced to admit. He intentionally didn’t glance at Becca, for fear that she would stick her tongue out at him. “We also have to think about the Dudl’lons. In no small part, my actions are why they are now suffering. If I can help them, I would very much like to.”

“Even if she is right, and I certainly feel for the plight of the Dudl’lons, this still leaves us facing two-to-one odds,” Henning replied. “Do we have a plan to make it a fair fight?”

“As it happens, I have an idea or two,” Jonathan said, unable to hide the small hint of a smile from his lips. He could tell from Henning’s tone that he had her. It caused his frustration at Becca to fade into the background. With rising excitement, he began explaining what he had in mind. When he was done, the other three Captains all agreed as well. Of course, it would be a risk, but they were at war, whatever choice they made was going to be risky.

“Very well then,” Jonathan said after they had discussed the plan thoroughly. “The odds are very much against us all making it through this. So let me say, it has been a privilege leading you this far, and even more of a privilege leading you into this fight. We will do what is right, and the chips may fall as they please. Good luck to each of you, Captains.”

“And to you too, Captain Somerville. We will not let you down,” Henning said for the others.

Jonathan nodded to each of them and then saluted. “Dismissed… Cortez, go and begin the preparations for our part,” he said when the other Captains disappeared from in front of them. “Major Samuels, wait behind.” He added as Cortez left. Immediately, he spun around towards her. “Just what did you think you are doing?” he demanded.

Becca raised her chin. “I was picking a fight, Captain. It looked like they were edging towards holding back.”

“A fight we could very well lose,” Jonathan pointed out firmly.

Becca shook her head. “Not with you in command.”

Despite his anger, Jonathan was taken aback. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Becca’s tone. “And you don’t think I had a plan for bringing them around to my way of thinking? Letting them voice their opinions was the entire point of the Captains’ conference.”

To Jonathan’s surprise, Becca looked momentarily confused. “No… I just thought it sounded like they were starting to favor waiting.”

Jonathan nodded. “Exactly, you just thought. You didn’t know. Listen,” he said as he lowered his voice, choosing to take a different tone. “I value your opinion. You have never steered me wrong ever since we stepped foot on that pirate freighter together. I am glad you command my Imperial Guard. But, you must respect the chain of command, especially in public. If you feel you need to point out the error of my ways to me, then fine, I rather doubt I could stop you. But, you do it in private, understood?”

Becca grinned at Jonathan, causing him to roll his eyes again. He shouldn’t have lightened his tone. Even so, as she came towards him, hand held out, he took it. “That’s a deal, Captain,” she said through her grin. “I can criticize you in private any time I like.”

Jonathan shook his head at her impudence. “You are aware that if we lose, you’ll die with the rest of us?”

“That is not going to happen, Captain,” Becca assured him, the same confidence from moments before returning. Jonathan shook his head again. He knew there was no point arguing with her. Instead, he wished he shared her certainty.

Chapter 6

Sometimes lending aid to a neighbor can strengthen a friendship, at others it may only lead to resentment. Discerning which is a skill many a frontier naval Captain must learn.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

With no ships actively patrolling the shift passage into the Dudllias system, it was easy for Kestrel to slip in unnoticed. In stealth, Jonathan slowly took his command towards the system’s gas giant and the three destroyers and one frigate defending it. The first part of his plan was very straightforward, he was going to charge Kestrel right towards the gas mining facility under construction and force the Protectorates to defend it. “I believe it is time,” he said to Scholes when Kestrel had been travelling into the system for just over an hour. In response, Scholes took Kestrel out of stealth and poured energy into her impulse engines.

At once, the light cruiser was visible to all the Protectorate ships in the system. The four ships defending the construction going on around the gas giant had an immediate dilemma. Jonathan had brought Kestrel close enough that the freighters couldn’t run away. And if the warships did try to avoid combat, then he could blast the partially completed gas mining station apart. Against what appeared to be just one enemy ship, albeit a strange looking one, they decided to fight. Jonathan grinned when they did. The stage was set.

Not wanting Kestrel to get into weapons’ range of the partially built station, the four Protectorate ships broke orbit and moved towards Jonathan’s ship and, crucially, away from Dudllias and the other six enemy ships. For thirty-five minutes, Jonathan allowed them to maneuver to intercept him. Then, he turned to Lieutenant Abrahams. “Time to call for our reinforcements.”

Ten seconds after the message was sent. Two new contacts appeared on the gravimetric plot as Scimitar and Greyhound sprung out of stealth and to full acceleration. Having followed Kestrel into the system in stealth, they had continued at their slower velocity when Kestrel had announced herself. Despite being behind Jonathan’s light cruiser, the high acceleration rates the frigates could reach would allow them to catch up. And with the Protectorate ships already committed, there was no way for them to run towards the rest of their comrades. The other six Protectorate ships had broken orbit from around Dudllias, but they had been keeping station near the planet, not willing to move too far from the Dudl’lons’ world.

Further behind Scimitar and Greyhound, Wasp and Unicorn also came out of stealth and followed their smaller consorts into the system. Being larger and slower, they wouldn’t reach Kestrel in time to help with the first phase of Jonathan’s plan. But, they would easily catch up before the other six Protectorate ships could close with Kestrel, if they attempted to do so.

Well, you’ve got what you wanted, Jonathan thought to himself as the first four Protectorate ships didn’t balk at the appearance of Scimitar and Greyhound. In just fifteen minutes, they would enter missile range with their long-range missiles, then Kestrel would be able to fire hers three minutes after that.

When the time came, the Protectorate ships released thirty missiles at Kestrel. With his two frigates still accelerating to catch up, Kestrel fired her first salvo alone. Six minutes later, Scimitar and Greyhound slotted into formation alongside Kestrel, and they fired a second salvo together. A third salvo was fired four minutes and fifty-one seconds later. Jonathan nodded in approval; his missile gunners were improving. Now, it’s time to see if all the training has paid off for the defensive gunners as well, he thought as the first thirty enemy missiles came into range.

Having drilled together for several days, the gunners of the two frigates worked almost as well with Harte’s PD drones as Kestrel’s gunners. From her position at the tactical console, Lieutenant Artex assigned missiles to Kestrel, Scimitar, Greyhound, and Harte. Long-range AM missiles first streaked out towards the Protectorate missiles, causing them to break their formation early and carry out evasive maneuvers. Then, the Imperial ships’ area effect weapons filled the space in front of the densest groups of missiles with flak bursts and balls of dancing electricity. Just seven missiles were destroyed, but those that remained were now significantly dispersed. It allowed Harte and each ship to focus all their fire on one missile each until they destroyed their target and then moved to the next. Systematically, every Protectorate missile was shot down. Jonathan nodded in approval of Harte’s PD drones as he shot down missiles quicker than either Scimitar or Greyhound managed.

“Great shooting,” Jonathan said to his officers, “pass on my respects to our two escorts as well. But, let’s not lose focus, we are going to need to do this again and again.” Jonathan’s words were cemented in when Kestrel’s own missile salvo reached the four enemy ships. Despite the fifteen mark VII missiles releasing forty-five short range antimatter warheads, the Protectorates took out all but two of them. Both dived in trying to score direct hits, but failed. Protectorate evasive maneuvers even managed to keep the released antimatter from touching their ships.

“We’ll have Scimitar and Greyhound’s missiles in our next salvo,” Jonathan reminded his officers, aware of his own disappointment at their salvo. We’re closely matched, he admitted. This could be a long one.

For the next half an hour, Jonathan kept maneuvering his three ships to give his missiles the best angle. For their part, the Protectorate ships began to fall back to prevent Wasp and Unicorn from being able to enter the fray. All Jonathan could do was keep them in range as salvo after salvo crashed into each force. As the battle progressed, the tension on the bridge kept mounting. Everyone knew something had to give eventually.

It happened when both Kestrel and Scimitar suffered hits from one salvo. Thankfully, their shields absorbed most of the destructive energy from the grazer beams. Yet, sensors and PD weapons were still damaged. Just seconds later, one Protectorate frigate also suffered a proximity hit as antimatter washed over it. Kestrel’s sensors showed one missile tube severely damaged, and several sections scarred from where the antimatter had eaten away the ships’ armor.

“Focus all our fire on that frigate!” Jonathan ordered as soon as he saw it. If they could take it out, the odds would swing heavily in their favor.

With all of Kestrel, Scimitar and Greyhound’s twenty-nine missiles targeting one enemy ship, it was easier for the other Protectorate ships to take them out. However, two still got into attack range. Both failed to score a direct hit, but as they detonated together, creating two antimatter blooms in front of the frigate, it couldn’t dodge both. Flying through the edge of one, more antimatter ripped into its armor and innards. Cheers went up around Jonathan as the frigate began to slow and fall out of formation with its comrades. Either its engines, reactors or power relays had been hurt by the antimatter. It didn’t matter which, however, all that mattered was that its comrades would either try to stay with it and so hamper their own evasive maneuvers, or abandon it and so reduce the effectiveness of their combined PD fire.

The enemy commander chose the former. Slowly, the other three Protectorate warships began to pull away from their stricken comrade. They did, however, begin to change course. Jonathan sat forward in his command chair as he leaned in to see what they were doing. “They’re trying to close!” he hissed as soon as he saw how the ships were moving. Protectorate short-range missiles were far deadlier than their long-range ones. Kestrel’s bomb-pumped mark VIIIs were also more deadly than her mark VIIs, but not by the same margin.

“Any orders, Captain?” Cortez asked.

Jonathan thought for a moment. The momentum of both groups of ships wasn’t in his favor. He couldn’t run away, for if he did, the Protectorate ships would turn around again and flee towards the six ships at Dudllias. If they combined, his small force would stand no chance against them. He shook his head. “We continue towards them. Prepare the mark VIIIs. Let’s finish this as quickly as we can. Focus our fire on their light cruiser,” Jonathan ordered. There was nothing else he could do.

As the range closed, the fight became far more deadly. Each Protectorate short range missile released ten warheads just before reaching point defensive range of Jonathan’s ships. With over three hundred contacts twisting and weaving through his defensive fire, a number of missiles got through. Some tried to score proximity hits. Thankfully, most of the explosive energy released by the small missiles was absorbed by the Imperial ships’ shields. Three missiles scored direct hits, however, one on each of Jonathan’s ships. The first he knew about Kestrel being hit were the vibrations that ran up his command chair. “Damage report,” he demanded as he spun towards Cortez.

“We took a hit to our port side nose section. Our armor held,” Cortez reported. “One more hit to that area, though and we will have a hull breach.”

“Scimitar and Greyhound were both hit once as well,” Abrahams added. “Both are reporting they are still battle ready.”

Your missiles may be hard to hit, but they don’t pack the biggest punch, Jonathan thought as he looked back at the holo display to the three remaining Protectorate ships. But so do ours. Two minutes later, four mark VIII missiles made it into attack range. Detonating, they each released three laser beams. Four struck the Protectorate cruiser. Debris, atmosphere, and bodies tumbled out into space as armor was peeled back and internal decks melted. Amazingly, the warship’s main systems shrugged off the hits and kept coming. Jonathan shook his head. Protectorate ships were built to take a beating.

With another salvo of Protectorate and Imperial missiles already in space closing with their targets, it wasn’t long before both groups of ships suffered more hits. Kestrel took a hit to her stern, while a missile detonated on contact with Greyhound’s shield, negating it of all its ionized particles. Though suffering repeated hits was bad, Jonathan was at least thankful the small Protectorate missiles weren’t antimatter or even thermonuclear. If either, his ships would have already been destroyed. As the second close-range Imperial missiles struck home, the Protectorate light cruiser wasn’t so lucky. Just three laser beams hit it this time. However, one beam pierced through an already damaged section. Its destructive force entered the nose of the cruiser and burnt right through its inner sections, piercing as deep as its engines at its stern. So many critical systems were damaged that the ship disappeared seconds later in a blinding flash. Jonathan’s fists pumped the air as others around him shouted in celebration.

The cruiser’s death was the turning point in the battle. Though one more full enemy salvo was already in space, just one of its missiles managed to hit Scimitar. The destroyer lost a missile tube and several point defense nodes, but it was far from crippled. With the light cruiser gone, Jonathan split his next salvo between the two Protectorate destroyers. Both suffered serious damage as ten missiles got close enough to detonate and hurled their thirty laser beams at the two ships. Though neither was completely destroyed, a trail of debris behind both and more than a fifty percent reduction in their acceleration rates showed they had been hit hard. The greatly reduced missile salvo they managed to fire wasn’t enough to overwhelm the point defensive fire of Jonathan’s ships. In contrast, one final salvo from Kestrel and her consorts would have been enough to finish off their enemy. However, to Jonathan’s surprise, two minutes before his missiles reached attack range, both crippled destroyers cut their engines.

“They are surrendering!” Abrahams called out from his COM console. “They are broadcasting on an unencrypted channel. Both ships are surrendering.”

Jonathan hesitated. There was a chance it was a ruse. As far as he was aware, no Protectorate ships had surrendered so far in the war. But, we’ve never had them dead to rights before, have we? He asked himself. “Self-destruct our missiles,” he ordered. “But, be prepared to fire another salvo. Instruct them to power down all their weapons. If we detect even a hint of something powering up, tell them we will not hesitate to destroy them. Then contact Major Roscommon, inform him his marines have two enemy destroyers to secure. He can take a small team of Navy personnel to help secure them. Lydia you assign the necessary people.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lydia replied.

“All right,” Jonathan said as he turned to the rest of his officers. “That is stage one of our plan complete. Now, we need to get ready for stage two.” As he spoke, he nodded towards the holo display where Dudllias and the six remaining Protectorate ships were. They were showing no signs of wanting to leave the system, and Jonathan had no intention of letting them keep Dudllias. “We need to begin carrying out emergency repairs at once. Abrahams, speak with Greyhound and Scimitar, see if they need any help or supplies for their repairs. If those ships are going to remain at Dudllias, we can take our time to put our ship to rights, but we can’t take all day about it, there may be other Protectorate ships on their way here.”

“Understood, Sir,” Cortez replied on behalf of the rest of the bridge officers. “What shall we do about the gas mining stations and those two freighters?”

Jonathan turned his attention back to the system’s gas giant. The two Protectorate freighters hadn’t moved, clearly they had expected their ships to win the battle. “Instruct Wasp and Unicorn they are to move in and destroy the gas mining station and the two freighters if they don’t surrender. If they do, make sure any boarding party knows to prioritize getting a hold of their computers. Any intelligence we can gather could be crucial.”

*

Four hours later, Jonathan felt his ships were ready to begin the next phase of his plan. One Protectorate freighter had refused to surrender and was destroyed. The other and the partially completed gas mining station had thrown in the towel after seeing their comrade blown apart. Jonathan had used the second freighter to take the two damaged Protectorate destroyers in tow. That way, he could keep their engines powered down to a minimum. With the amount of damage they had taken, there was still a chance they could suffer a reactor meltdown or systems overload. Under the careful supervision of the marines from his five ships and a small amount of navy personnel, the destroyers’ crews were carrying out basic repairs. Jonathan also had his most experienced computer hackers on the destroyers, trying to make sense of their systems. He would have to worry about what they might find later, for he was keen to free Dudllias as soon as possible. When his ships were ready, he ordered them to set course for the planet.

The Protectorate ships responded, but not in the way Jonathan had expected. His force was up against one medium cruiser, two destroyers, and three frigates. As soon as his ships started moving towards Dudllias, one of the three frigates broke away from its consorts and made for the shift passage to Ulan’nagn at maximum speed. “That’s something I’m not going to complain about,” Jonathan commented. “They must want to send a warning to Lvant.”

“It’s just a pity they all didn’t want to go,” Cortez said. “With the gas mining station taken, there’s not much left for them to defend.”

“Except if we secure the system, we could build up our own mining facilities, or just buy what small stocks of He3 the Dudl’lons have,” Jonathan responded. “Then, we could use the system as a base to flank Lvant’s defenses at Ulan’nagn. I’m sure Lvant doesn’t want that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Cortez replied. “A fight to the finish it is, then. Do you think they will surrender?”

“If we can take out that medium cruiser, the others may, if we’re not too beaten up,” Jonathan guessed. “But, we can’t count on that.”

Cortez nodded. “No, we certainly can’t.”

With no more tricks up his sleeve, Jonathan didn’t try any fancy maneuvers with his ships as they approached the Protectorate ships. The battle was going to be one of attrition. Now facing just five enemy ships, both sides were evenly matched. Where Jonathan had one more destroyer, the Protectorate medium cruiser out-massed Kestrel by about almost a third. It was therefore down to Kestrel’s PD drones to tip the scales in their favor. That was what Jonathan was counting on. To help his forces, as the two groups of ships closed with one another, Jonathan kept altering course to keep the Protectorates at maximum range. He didn’t want to get swamped by more of their close-range missiles.

For forty-five minutes, both sides hammered each other. Like clockwork, every four minutes and fifty seconds, Jonathan’s ships fired a new salvo. Initially, the Protectorate ships were almost able to keep pace, firing every five minutes ten seconds. Yet, as antimatter missiles started to score proximity hits, their rhythm was thrown off. Jonathan’s ships also suffered. Kestrel took a grazer beam directly amid ships and Unicorn suffered a similar hit that destroyed one of her missile tubes, yet their rate of fire didn’t falter. With Harte’s PD drones shooting down multiple missiles each salvo, the higher rate of fire began to pay off. After the seventh salvo, the Protectorate medium cruiser finally started to take damage as it was engulfed in antimatter from a series of proximity hits. The first did little visible damage other than to burn away armor. By luck, the second proximity hit struck the same area. Antimatter negated what little armor was left and breached the hull in several places. Several power capacitors were destroyed, cutting the flow of energy to the cruiser’s impulse engines.

“They’re slowing!” Lydia shouted over the din of the bridge. “We hurt her that time!”

“Keep it up,” Jonathan demanded. Sweat was running down his back. His hands were clenched into fists. Knowing every salvo could be the last for his ships, his body had been growing more and more tense as the battle continued. To his amazement, the Protectorate ships swatted away most of the missiles from his next salvo. Two tried to score proximity hits on the cruiser, but even with its reduced thrust, it dodged them.

Then, disaster struck. A grazer beam from a Protectorate missile hit Greyhound square on. The frigate’s shields, only partially restored after being hit hours before, could only deflect a fraction of the grazer’s power. Like a knife through butter, the beam designed to be powerful enough to penetrate a battleship’s armor, split Greyhound almost in two. Somehow, her central support strut held the frigate together. Yet, many of her internal compartments were vaporized or rapidly decompressed. Sensing the damage, reactors powered down and went into failsafe mode, preventing a meltdown. Yet, other secondary explosions blew out several more of Greyhound’s compartments.

To Jonathan, it seemed like he watched the demise of the frigate in slow motion. He was able to see several bulkheads ripped loose and be flung out into space, then a stream of bodies and missiles tumble from another rent in her hull. Having lost power, the force from the grazer beam pushed Greyhound into a spin as she quickly fell out of formation. Unicorn had to dodge to avoid a deadly collision. Jonathan found himself cringing as he anticipated one final explosion that would seal the fate of the frigate. As the seconds ticked by, however, it never came. Letting out a sigh of loss and anger, Jonathan pushed himself into action. “Have the rest of our ships launch all their shuttles now. Get rescue teams over to Greyhound. Get her crew off immediately. Cortez, take command of the operation.”

“At once, Captain,” Cortez responded.

Though it pained him to do so, Jonathan forced himself to return his focus to the battle. He could do no more for Greyhound, but he could lose the rest of his ships if he wasn’t careful. Since the first salvos had been fired, the Protectorate fleet had been angling to get into range with their short-range missiles. Greyhound’s damage hadn’t just reduced the strength of his force, but he now had a dilemma. The stricken frigate’s momentum was taking her towards the Protectorate ships. If Jonathan tried to keep his ships near her, they would be heading into even greater danger. “Break from Greyhound,” he ordered. “We will come back to pick up our shuttles later.” He had to hope the Protectorates wouldn’t waste missiles on Greyhound or the shuttles. They can’t afford to, Jonathan reassured himself. They need to focus on us.

“Next salvo hitting home,” Lieutenant Artex shouted as if she had read Jonathan’s thoughts.

Come on! Jonathan thought as he willed his missiles on. They were the last full salvo that the Protectorates would have to deal with. As per his orders, every one of them was aimed at the damaged medium cruiser. Desperately the Protectorates strove to shoot them all down. Jonathan’s heart sank as their numbers dwindled quickly. Yet, against the odds, three, including one penetrator ECM missile, dodged everything aimed at them. At the last second, one was taken out, but the other two smashed right into the medium cruiser.

One was the ECM missile. The kinetic force of its impact sent an explosion rippling across the cruiser’s armor, but failed to break through it. The antimatter warhead fared far better. Its tritanium -tipped nose vaporized on impact, burning away the cruiser’s valstronium armor. The warhead’s casing allowed it to penetrate through three bulkheads before its sensors sent the detonation signal. From the heart of the cruiser, antimatter blossomed and rapidly expanded negating everything it touched. By the time the antimatter had exhausted itself, nearly a third of the cruiser was gone. Within seconds, the cruiser’s momentum caused it to break into several sections that spun away from one another. Jonathan let out a cry of victory as a great deal of tension left his body. He had both fists in the air and they were shaking from the force of his grip. “Yes!” He shouted. “Yes! He shouted.

“Now, focus all fire on Tango-two,” he said once he got control of his emotions. He had to repeat himself to get Artex to acknowledge the command, the noise of everyone else’s celebrations having drowned out his initial words.

As with the first engagement with the small Protectorate force, the destruction of the cruiser proved to be the turning point in the battle. Tango-two, one of the two remaining Protectorate destroyers, was taken out in the next Imperial salvo. As soon as it was blown up, the last destroyer and three remaining frigates turned tail and ran. They simply didn’t have the missile numbers to threaten Jonathan’s battered force anymore. With the battle being fought at extreme range, they were able to get away before Jonathan could hit them again.

“Shall we pursue?” Cortez asked as she looked over to Jonathan, her eyes full of strain from the battle.

Jonathan shook his head. Only Scimitar was able to match their acceleration rates, he didn’t want to risk the frigate. “We have all taken too much damage. Today, we’ll settle for driving them off. Excellent work, everyone,” he added. “You couldn’t have made me prouder.”

Jonathan knew he had chosen the right words as everyone looked up from their consoles. Despite Greyhound’s loss and the damage Kestrel had taken, they broke into smiles and shared looks with one another. We’re becoming a true team, Jonathan thought. One that could only be forged in the heat of battle. “Now,” he said after giving them a moment to relish their victory, “Set course for Dudllias via Greyhound’s wreck. We have shuttles to pick up.”

And that is only the beginning, Jonathan thought to himself as he summoned the strength to keep going. The twin battles had drained him of all his mental energy. The stress from commanding a flotilla of ships in battle was far greater than he had expected. The weight of responsibility was far heavier. He felt like he could sleep for a week. Yet, he had no time to even entertain such thoughts. There was still plenty within the system that needed his attention. He had damaged ships to see to, crew to rescue, prisoners to interrogate, and he still didn’t know what state the Dudl’lons’ homeworld was in.

Taking in a slow breath, Jonathan pushed any thought of taking a nap away. Instead, he turned his attention to Dudllias. He was now responsible for the entire planet, for he was certain that if they could, the Protectorate would want to take it back. Worry about that later, he told himself, you need to secure it first.

Chapter 7

Every inhabited world within the Empire is a unique jewel. One that war can wreck in an instant.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“Picking up intermittent energy readings from the surface,” Lieutenant Artex reported as Jonathan’s small flotilla approached Dudllias. “I think it’s weapons fire.”

“Show me,” Jonathan requested.

The holo display zoomed in to show an island no more than twenty square kilometers in size. It looked strangely familiar to Jonathan. What caught his attention were several buildings surrounded by a large wall. Together, they had the unmistakable look of a military compound. As everyone on Kestrel’s bridge watched, several turrets fired laser beams into the waves that crashed against the island’s rocky beaches.

“It has to be a Protectorate base,” Jonathan said. “The Dudl’lons don’t build surface structures.”

“Then the Dudl’lons must be attacking them. Do you think it is some kind of occupation base?” Cortez suggested.

“It looks like it,” Jonathan agreed.

“I think that’s the same island we landed on when we visited King Krilim,” Lydia said. As she spoke, she pulled up an old image of an Imperial shuttle parked on an island. Apart from the Protectorate buildings, the images were the same.

“Which puts their base very close to Krilim’s palace, it must be the center of whatever occupation the Protectorates tried to set up,” Jonathan said. “If the Dudl’lons are trying to capture it, we need to help them.”

“We will soon be close enough to launch a couple of tungsten spears,” Artex offered. “If we threaten such an attack, they may surrender. And if they don’t, a couple of orbital strikes will put an end to their defense.”

Jonathan shook his head. “We can’t strike the surface. Tungsten spears would send shockwaves through the ocean, we can’t risk causing damage to the Dudl’lon city. But we can certainly make the threat. Lieutenant Abrahams, open a channel to the Protectorates down there and request that they surrender before we get into range to bombard them.”

“Understood, Captain,” Abrahams responded.

“Cortez, contact Major Roscommon, update him on the situation and tell him I want a plan in place for a ground assault. If they don’t surrender, we may have to land Marines to aid the Dudl’lons.”

Jonathan turned to his Second Lieutenant. “Lydia, you better start organizing armed naval crew to replace the marines on the captured Protectorate ships. Keep Greyhound’s crew on the ships they have been settled on though, I don’t want them anywhere near the prisoners just yet. Their emotions will be too raw.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cortez and Lydia said one after the other.

As his officers got to work, Jonathan supervised his flotilla as they slotted into orbit around Dudllias. With the two damaged Protectorate destroyers being towed by the captured freighter, it was a delicate maneuver. The damage his own ships had suffered didn’t make it any easier. “Well?” he asked as he turned to Abrahams when each ship was in orbit.

Abrahams shook his head. “Sorry, Captain, there’s no response from the Protectorate forces. I do have a Dudl’lon who wants to speak to you. He said his name was Jamlaquill. It is audio only.”

Jonathan recognized the name. Jamlaquill was one of Krilim’s advisors. Jonathan had spoken to him extensively during his brief visit to the planet before being allowed an audience with the Dudl’lon King. “Put him through,” he requested.

As Abrahams informed Jamlaquill that Jonathan would speak to him, Jonathan turned to a secondary display that was still showing the Protectorate base. As he watched, several submarines broke through the ocean’s surface about a mile from the island. They launched missiles and laser beams at the Protectorate base. As the Protectorates returned fire, a handful of submersible tanks appeared near one beach and engaged the defenders as well. Two were destroyed by Protectorate fire before they retreated. Several plumes of smoke also began to rise from the Protectorate compound’s wall and weapons emplacements. Both sides were hammering each other, but it looked like a stalemate. The Dudl’lons just didn’t have the tech to overwhelm the Protectorate base.

“I have Jamlaquill now, Captain,” Abrahams informed Jonathan.

“Advisor Jamlaquill, I am sorry we are speaking under such circumstances. How are your King and your people?” Jonathan asked.

“Captain Somerville, I was very surprised to see it was you commanding your species’ ships,” Jamlaquill’s high pitched voice, translated by the Kulrean tech said. “I confess I am not sure if I am happy to hear you. Your first arrival in our system has led us into a great catastrophe.”

“I sincerely apologize, Advisor,” Jonathan said, glad he didn’t have to look the dolphin-like alien in the face. “But, this catastrophe was the furthest thing from my intentions. The Protectorates have caused us all to suffer. More than one hundred thousand of my people have already died defending ourselves from them. My ship detected the remnants of your fleet when we entered the system, I am sorry for your losses.”

“Yes, we have suffered. King Krilim and I are grateful that your ships have arrived, even if I fear what else that may mean for our future,” Jamlaquill responded.

“So Krilim is alive, I am glad to hear that,” Jonathan replied. “And I am thankful that we were able to drive the Protectorate ships from your system. I see you are currently fighting Protectorate forces on your planet’s surface. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“After taking our orbitals, the Protectorates landed ‘advisors,’ to monitor King Krilim,” Jamlaquill explained. “They built a base on one of the nearby islands and kept a small patrol of their people in our capital system as a constant reminder that we were not to try and hamper their activities in orbit. We have dealt with their people in our city, now we are removing their base from our world.”

Jonathan nodded, “I am able to see that from my ship. I have trained ground troops with me; they are equipped to handle just the kind of enemy you are fighting. If you are willing to work with us, I would like to help you deal with this Protectorate base. It may save your people from suffering needless loss.”

“King Krilim is overseeing the assault, I will speak with him and get back to you, Captain,” Jamlaquill said.

“Very well, I will await your reply,” Jonathan responded.

Seconds after the COM channel ended, the doors to the bridge opened and Major Roscommon walked in. “Major,” Jonathan said as he turned to the commander of Kestrel’s marines. “You are up to date on what we face?”

“I am, Captain,” the Major said as he moved over to stand near Jonathan’s command chair. “With your permission, I believe we can take the base with minimal losses.”

“Tell me, what do you have in mind?” Jonathan asked.

Gesturing towards the main holo display where an image of the Protectorate base appeared, Roscommon began to explain. “Their defenses appear to be focused on taking out threats coming from the ocean. As far as we know, the Dudl’lons don’t have an air force. Nor can they just walk out of the ocean to fight. I believe we have enough shuttles to take out the limited anti-air defenses we have detected. Then, we can use our maneuverability to best advantage. Especially, if we can get a little help from the Dudl’lons. If they could coordinate another barrage against the Protectorates, it will give us the cover we need to get into place.”

As Roscommon explained in greater detail, Jonathan found himself nodding along. He was far from an expert in ground combat, but Roscommon’s plan seemed sound. “Do you have enough marines?” He asked when Roscommon finished.

“Between our four remaining ships, we have seventy-two,” Roscommon said. “I’ve assigned the survivors from Greyhound to help guard our prisoners. Don’t worry,” Roscommon added when he saw the concerned look on Jonathan’s face. “They will behave themselves.”

“If you are sure, then so am I,” Jonathan replied. He half turned and glanced at Becca. “How would you like a handful of special forces marines to accompany you?” Both Roscommon and Becca breaking into small smiles told him he had asked the right question.

“If you can spare a few of your Imperial Guard, Captain, I’m quite certain they would be the perfect instrument to lead our thrust,” Roscommon said.

“Then, they are yours,” Jonathan replied. “As many as Major Samuels can spare.”

“I will leave two here with you, Captain,” Becca said, speaking up from where she stood guarding the door onto the bridge. “That way, if the worst happens, you will still have some protection.”

“Very well,” Jonathan responded. “You two may go over the plan together. Get your teams ready and I will speak with the Dudl’lons again.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Roscommon replied as he snapped a salute, nodded to Becca, and marched out of the bridge. Becca mouthed a ‘thank you,’ to Jonathan, and then turned and followed Roscommon.

Though Jonathan didn’t want Becca or any of his other Imperial Guard going into harm’s way, he knew they were itching for action. Standing around all day guarding him was not the kind of life they had signed up to the marines for. “Can I speak to Jamlaquill again yet?” Jonathan asked Abrahams as the door closed behind Becca.

“I’ll hail them and see, Captain,” Abrahams replied. “Yes, he will be on the line momentarily,” Abrahams explained after several seconds.

It took nearly a minute, but then, Abrahams nodded to say he had connected with Jamlaquill. “Adviser,” Jonathan said. “My forces are confident they can help you take the Protectorate base. They are putting a plan into motion now. What has King Krilim said?”

“We would very much like to defeat the Protectorates ourselves, Captain,” Jamlaquill answered. “They have insulted our King and our people. However, the task is proving difficult. King Krilim accepts your offer. Though, we must be involved in the attack.”

Jonathan smiled; they were on board. “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied, “for we already have one or two ideas of how you can help. Let me explain what we are planning, and then let’s see if we can work together.”

*

The sudden strong vibrations that ran through the shuttle told Major Samuels they were passing through the planet’s atmosphere. As it always did, Becca felt her stomach tighten into several knots as the prospect of combat approached. Ignoring it, she focused her attention on the HUD of her combat armor. Currently, she was watching the feed from several micro drones that had been released into Dudllias’ atmosphere. They were circling the Protectorate base, giving her a good view of what was about to happen. First, eight Dudl’lon submarines poked above the sea’s surface five kilometers from the base. In the space of three seconds, they fired a hail of missiles vertically up into the air. Protectorate laser beams destroyed one submarine before the rest could duck down under the water for cover. Then, the Protectorate lasers turned and focused their fire on the missiles that had looped high up into the sky before turning to race towards the base. The lasers were soon joined by small SAMs launched from several batteries. On her HUD, Becca was able to watch as the drones’ advanced sensors identified and pinged each Protectorate weapon’s platform.

Most of the Dudl’lon missiles were shot down before they could reach the base, however, Becca counted ten explosions as a handful made it to their targets. The explosions were the cue for the next part of the attack to begin. Powering up, a wave of ECM drones suddenly blackened out an area of sky east of the base. Racing in behind the drones were three imperial shuttles. Hypervelocity missiles and plasma bolts rained down on the Protectorate base, striking weapons emplacements before they could turn to fire. Zooming over the base, the shuttles pivoted and brought their weapons around to continue to rain down death and destruction. However, the Protectorates finally managed to organize their response to the new threat. A wave of SAMs reached out to try and swat down the shuttles. The shuttles’ ECM spiked, and hundreds of flares were launched. Return fire destroyed two more SAM batteries, but seconds later, one shuttle was vaporized by a missile. As laser beams and SAMs continued to be hurled up at them, the two shuttles turned and raced away from danger.

“Eight seconds,” the pilot of Becca’s shuttle announced, causing her stomach to tighten further. Becca waited just long enough to see the Dudl’lon submarines appear again on the same vector the shuttles were retreating along. As they fired a second volley of missiles, she switched the view from her HUD to see what her pilot was seeing. Ahead of her, the Protectorate base was partially clouded by numerous plumes of smoke that rose into the air. Through them, she could see laser cannons and missiles being launched towards the fleeing shuttles and Dudl’lon submarines. Then, as the six shuttles stuffed full of marines appeared out of the ECM cloud the drones had maintained, a few of the weapons began to swivel around towards the new threat. Becca didn’t have time to watch them fire.

“Go, go, go!” the pilot ordered as the shuttle screamed to a halt and hovered above the island’s rocky beach.

Becca was on her feet at the first go. By the third go, she was already jumping out of the shuttle’s descending rear access ramp. Flanked by five other special forces marines, she charged up the beach with all the speed her augments and combat armor gave her. Already, chaff canisters and smoke grenades had filled the area ahead of the shuttles with enough metallic shards and smoke particles that her combat armor’s advanced sensors could hardly make anything out. Even so, hypervelocity missiles and plasma bolts zipped over her head as the shuttles tried to take out the weapons zeroing in on them. A massive explosion behind her made Becca flinch. She hoped all the marines had gotten off the shuttle before it had been destroyed.

Such thoughts were just a flicker through her mind though, for the large Protectorate outer wall quickly loomed up in front of her. Three holes had been blasted in it right where she was to breach, but even so, when she got to it, she had to vault herself up ten meters to the bottom of the closest breach. Without hesitation, she jumped down into the Protectorate base; speed was her best weapon. For while the sixty or so marines Major Roscommon was leading behind her would move in and begin to secure the base section by section, she and her special forces marines had other objectives.

To her surprise, as she landed, she wasn’t greeted by small weapons fire. Instead, a handful of aliens turned and froze, stunned by the metal giant that suddenly loomed over them. From the equipment in their hands, Becca guessed they were on their way to try and put out one of the nearby fires. However, all had weapons strapped onto their sides or over their backs. “Don’t!” Becca called out as one alien began to reach for his. Her words broke the spell that had been holding the others. Suddenly, they all began to dive for cover and grab at their weapons. Though she hated it, without hesitation, Becca sprayed plasma bolts from her rifle over the six aliens. In just three seconds, fire from her marines killed them all.

“Keep moving!” Becca ordered as she checked the map of the base on her HUD, and then broke into a sprint. Moments later, they rounded two of the Protectorate circular buildings that Imperial analysts had designated as living quarters. Then they came to a more open space. “Sergeant, take the right side,” Becca commanded as she led her fire team left. Hugging the buildings that lined the open area, they kept up a brisk pace. From two buildings ahead of her, four aliens suddenly emerged. They had weapons up and began looking around expecting trouble. Only one got a shot off with its laser rifle before they were all mowed down. The laser beam zipped past Becca’s head, missing by just inches. Ignoring the fact she had almost been badly hurt, Becca pushed on. They had three kilometers to cover before they reached their target.

“Soldiers up ahead,” Sergeant Wentworth whispered over the squad COM channel. Becca joined him at the edge of the next building and poked her head out. Sure enough, nine soldiers were moving in their general direction. They were spread out in groups of three, clearly looking for them. Becca assessed their opponents. The aliens were all the same species she had encountered so far, the Rasmorse, the same as Admiral Lvant. These soldiers only appeared to have limited armor, nor were they moving particularly fast. Naval Intelligence had suggested the Rasmorse may not be the best ground combatants. It’s time to find out, Becca said to herself. “Wentworth, provide covering fire, we will flank right,” she decided. “Launch grenades on my mark.”

As Wentworth acknowledged, Becca led her fire team of two other marines back around the other side of the building. “Covering fire,” she requested when they were ready. As Wentworth’s marines appeared from behind cover and sprayed the Rasmorse with plasma bolts, Becca and her two marines sprinted from their building to the next. Then they ran around it to come up on the Rasmorse’s flank. Just as the aliens came into view, crouching behind boxes and other cover, three more stepped out of a building almost right on top of Becca. Cursing, Becca swung her plasma rifle at the nearest one’s head. The force of her blow crumpled his helmet and sent him flying. Lowering her muzzle, Becca pivoted to turn to the next alien. She was too slow. It fired two laser beams past her, hitting Martinez. Even as the marine grunted over the squad COM channel, Lupin riddled the alien with plasma bolts. A moment later, Becca did the same. Together, they dispatched the third alien before he could fire on either of them.

Looking further ahead again, Becca saw the other Rasmorse soldiers hadn’t noticed them yet. “Get him back behind the building,” she hissed as she grabbed one of Martinez’s shoulders. As gently as they could, they moved him into cover and set him down. Reaching out a hand, a wire appeared from her finger and connected with Martinez’s combat armor. “How are you, private?” she asked. As he answered, her HUD also updated with data from his armor.

“It hurts, Major, but my armor took the brunt of it. The second beam did the most damage, my shoulder feels like it is on fire,” Martinez said.

Becca nodded. Martinez had third degree burns across most of his chest, but his armor had been able to spread the heat out and prevent any of the laser’s energy from directly touching his skin. His implants and suit’s med kit were already working to stem the damage and reduce the pain. “Stay here and stay alert. I don’t think they will try and attack you if you look injured, but don’t take any chances. We’ll be back for you.”

“Yes, Major,” Martinez said.

Becca gave him a nod and then swung back towards where the sounds of fighting were coming from. “With me,” she said to Lupin. Six large strides took her around the circular building back to where the three Rasmorse bodies lay. Quickly, Becca poked her head through the opening they had emerged from to make sure there would be no more surprises. “Grenades,” she ordered as soon as she was sure the building was empty.

Ten meters in front of her, explosions erupted amidst the defensive positions the Rasmorse had taken up. “Charging,” she informed Wentworth so she wouldn’t be hit by friendly fire. Flinging herself forward, Becca closed to point blank range with the remaining five Rasmorse. They were all either taking cover or trying to fire back at Wentworth’s positions. She and Lupin moved so fast that they didn’t hear or even see her until it was far too late. Running right through their positions, Becca hit them all with several plasma bolts to the chest. “Position cleared,” she informed her squad. “Martinez is injured, we press on without him.”

Matching actions to words, Becca moved between two more circular buildings as they continued to advance. Twice in the space of thirty seconds, they came across more soldiers at almost point-blank range. Both times, the special forces marines’ lightning quick reflexes saved them. Then, her first objective came into view. Not far from the center of the Protectorate base, in a large open area, eight alien tanks sat parked. Two craters pockmarked the open area where Dudl’lon missiles had tried to hit them, but missed. “They’re already manning them!” Becca said when she saw aliens swarming around the tanks. The Protectorates hadn’t used them to fight off the Dudl’lon attacks, but they were getting them ready to head off Major Roscommon’s marines. It was her mission to take them out before they could get going. “Take them!” she ordered.

Just two minutes after hurdling the outer wall, the marines let fly with the hypervelocity missile launchers built into their combat armor. One by one, the enemy tanks began to detonate. All but the last two. Their crews had been the first to get in them. Having been started, their automatic defenses spat laser beams at the marines’ hypervelocity missiles. Both missiles were shot down. Becca swore as the turrets of both tanks began to turn to her position. “Fall back!” she exclaimed.

As she turned and ran, she wasn’t sure if the tanks would fire into the midst of their own base. The explosive force that picked up and flung her several meters through the air answered her question. Picking herself up, she rushed behind the nearest building. “Status?” She requested as she checked on her own combat armor.

“We’re all ok, Major,” Wentworth replied.

Becca nodded as she saw on her HUD where her four other marines were. “That’s all we can do here. Prepare to move to our secondary target.” As soon as Wentworth confirmed, she changed COM channels. “Major Roscommon, six tanks are down. Two are left. They may try and follow us, but they’ll probably be heading your way sooner rather than later.”

“Understood, Samuels. Leave them to us,” Roscommon replied.

“Yes, Sir,” Becca said before switching back to her squad. She gritted her teeth together as she gestured for Wentworth’s fire team to take point. It was now time to cut the head off the snake. Moving more slowly and stealthily this time, Wentworth and his two marines led the way towards the large central building that dominated the compound. Twice, groups of soldiers rushed past them towards where Roscommon’s marines were advancing through the base. Both times, Wentworth was able to give enough warning for Becca’s force to slip back around one of the circular buildings.

As they came closer to the building that was their target, they came across fewer and fewer craters. The Protectorate point defenses had evidently focused their fire on the Dudl’lon missiles that threatened what Becca believed to be their HQ. “It’s just ahead, around the next building,” Wentworth reported. “Eight guards are visible.”

Eight again, Becca thought to herself. They must work in squads of eight. “We’ll provide covering fire this time,” she told Wentworth. “We’ll draw it out a little to see if they have any more soldiers in there. It will be easier to take them out outside rather than in.”

“Agreed, we’ll flank from the left,” Wentworth said as he gave hand signals for his two marines to move off.”

Becca nodded, then turned to Lupin. “Move around to the other side of the building and follow my lead.” She waited until Wentworth and his marines were out of sight, then she poked her head around the circular building between her and her target and hurled two grenades. Whilst still in the air, she raised her plasma rifle and sprayed several rounds at the nearest enemy soldier. She grunted in satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground. As every soldier turned towards her position, her two grenades exploded. One more soldier was killed while the rest dove for cover.

Within seconds, Becca’s position came under a hail of fire. So many laser beams were hitting the wall of the circular building she was using for cover that it began to melt. The sound of Lupin’s plasma rifle firing caused the number of beams coming Becca’s way to slacken. Then two more explosions rang out. Becca took the opportunity to poke her head out long enough to slam a hypervelocity missile into the position the alien soldiers had taken up. Just before she ducked back down, she spotted three more soldiers coming from the HQ’s main entrance. “Hit the entrance!” she ordered Lupin, guessing there were more on their way out. The sound of a loud explosion told her Lupin had fired a hypervelocity missile at it. Sure enough, when she glanced out again, the main door was a smoldering wreck. When laser beams began to strike the building all around her, she ducked back again. “I think it is time, Wentworth,” she said.

A single click over the COM channel was the Sergeant’s confirmation. Seconds later, more explosions rang out as several hypervelocity missiles struck the HQ. Then grenades went off, quickly followed by the thump of several plasma rifles joining the fight. Becca slowly counted to five, and then jumped out from behind her building. Wentworth’s marines were already rushing down the Rasmorse troops’ flank, firing as they ran. With no one looking at her, Becca charged as well, Lupin appeared on the other side of the building just a couple of strides behind her. Lobbing a grenade, Becca then saturated the enemy’s positions, keeping them hunkered down. Wentworth’s marines beat her to the alien soldiers, and the few that were still alive were quickly dispatched.

“Into the building!” Becca ordered as she jumped clear across two dead Rasmorse and through a hole blown open by a hypervelocity missile. As she landed, she rolled and came up quickly, her eyes darting from side-to-side. The bottom of the HQ was one large open space with what had to be circular stairs and elevators off to one side. Several bodies were strewn around what was left of the main entrance, but there was no sign of anyone else. At a mental command, a compartment in her combat armor opened and released fifty miniature drones. Immediately, they spread out throughout the building to map it out.

“To the stairs,” Becca ordered. “We’ll split up. Take the right ones,” she said to Wentworth.

By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, the drones had already mapped out the floor above. With her plasma rifle raised, she slowly ascended the circular stairs. A head poked out from the first floor but ducked away before she could fire. Then the muzzle of a laser rifle began to appear. Becca wasn’t going to let it fire at her. Two plasma bolts melted the muzzle. Then she hurled a stun grenade through the opening onto the first floor. Charging right behind it, she dispatched two alien soldiers who had been waiting for her. “Leave the first floor,” she ordered Wentworth as she looked in to make sure there were no more immediate threats in the corridor that led off the stairs. Her drones had now mapped out the entire building, their target was on the third floor. “Keep moving up.”

As Becca passed the second floor, she lobbed in more stun grenades, then they moved further up. On the third floor, she expected to meet more resistance. Her drones told her there were over thirty aliens crammed into the large open space. All the command consoles and holo displays told her it was the HQ’s CnC. However, a quick peek into the space showed most of the aliens were still at their stations, presumably coordinating the defense of their base. A few had weapons in their hands, but most did not. “Are you in position, Wentworth?” she asked.

“Affirmative,” the Sergeant replied.

A shout from a nearby alien made Becca turn towards it. The alien had spotted her. “Go, go, go!” she ordered as she and Lupin launched stun grenades into the control room. Moving in right behind them, Becca systematically began to take out any alien that held a weapon. Looking around, she spotted who she guessed was the base commander. His larger seat and uniform gave him away. Rifle up, she made her way towards him. “Surrender!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs. “Surrender now, or die,” she added.

The alien had been covering his face in his hands from the effects of the grenade. When he looked up at her, his eyes widened. Instinctively, his hand went for a weapon strapped to his chest. Becca reached out and grabbed the weapon from his hand, flinging it across the room. Grabbing him, she lifted him out of his seat and made him look around. Wentworth, Lupin, and her other marines had already killed about half of the alien’s command staff. The rest were cowering away from the marines, who had their plasma rifles pointed at them threateningly. “Surrender!” Becca bellowed again. For a moment, she thought she’d have to slam the alien back into his chair to make him see sense, but then he nodded his head in a very humanlike gesture.

“Yes, yes, we surrender,” the alien said.

Becca dropped him gently into his chair. “I am Major Samuels of the Imperial marines; I accept your surrender. Now, tell the rest of your people,” she said as she pointed at the controls of his command chair.

A hint of defiance crossed the alien’s face. “I am General Il’uvum, I have surrendered my people here, but the rest of my forces will wish to fight on. They will not surrender to your forces or the Dudl’lons. They killed all of our people in their city.”

“That’s all the more reason to surrender to us now,” Becca argued. “Two of your warships already surrendered, their crew are all safe. Surrender to us and we will make sure no harm comes to you.”

Il’uvum looked away for a moment. “I will tell them I have surrendered, that is all I can do, they must choose their own fates.”

Becca wanted more, but she could see in his eyes, Il’uvum was angry. He hadn’t exactly surrendered willingly. “Fine, do it,” she replied. She watched the alien General for a few seconds as he began to speak to his forces, then switched her COM channel to Roscommon’s one. “Major, we have taken their HQ, their General has surrendered. He is informing the rest of his troops. I’m not sure they will stop fighting, but they may, so be prepared.”

“Understood, Major,” Roscommon replied. “We’ve secured about a third of the base. We have recovered Martinez as well. Standby at your position, we’ll get back up to you as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Sir,” Becca said. “Secure both stairways and the elevator,” she ordered her marines as she turned back to them. “Help is on the way.” Then, she breathed a long sigh of relief. Their part in the mission was over. The alien base was already severely compromised. Even if their soldiers didn’t surrender, neutralizing them was just a matter of time.

Chapter 8

When one sits down to try and really grasp it, the economy of the Empire boggles the mind. At any one time millions of freighters are carrying trillions of tons between ten thousand systems within the Empire and to or from her allies’ worlds. Thanks to the revolutions in FTL travel, this is done at far greater efficiencies than during the early years of the Empire. Yet even with these advances, the wormholes of the Gift are the true sources of the Empire’s riches. The tolls collected from them pay for nearly half the navy’s budget all by themselves.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Dudllias, 15th February 2510 AD.

Six hours after the Protectorate base surrendered, Jonathan’s shuttle touched down. As he stepped from it onto Dudllias’ surface, Becca and three other marines from his Imperial Guard flanked him. The shine from Becca’s combat armor made it look like she had just come off the parade ground, not fought a deadly battle. Jonathan didn’t know how she was still on her feet, but she had insisted she accompany him. “Lead on,” he said to her as he gestured for her to take them into the base.

For half an hour, Jonathan surveyed the damage as Becca and then Major Roscommon, when he joined them, talked him through the battle. Then Jonathan was taken to where the Protectorate prisoners were being held. Most were in one of the large circular buildings, but a small group of six were being closely watched as they stood outside. From the images Jonathan had seen of the battle, he could tell they were wearing Protectorate officer’s uniforms.

“Sergeant General Il’uvum was the base commander,” Major Roscommon informed Jonathan. “General, if you would, this is Captain Somerville, he commands the ships that drove off your orbital forces.”

Il’uvum gave a gesture to his other officers that Jonathan didn’t understand and then took several steps towards Jonathan. Four marines tracked him with their plasma rifles. Il’uvum eyed them warily and then met Jonathan’s gaze. “If you plan to torture my people, I request that you do to me what you would do to them. They were just following orders. They have no information that would be useful to you.”

Jonathan had to fight not to growl. He desperately wanted to get his hands on whoever had spread the lies about Humanity that had convinced the Protectorates to go to war with the Human Empire. “I fear you have been told many lies about us,” Jonathan said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “I hope my people and I will be able to dissuade you from some of them. We will integrate you and your people. But, there will be no torture, nor any other kind of mistreatment. I give you my word.”

“And how can I trust you?” Il’uvum questioned. “You have just destroyed my base and forced my people to surrender at gun point.”

“Would you have preferred if we had just killed you?” Jonathan asked. He continued without letting Il’uvum answer. “I think not. As to how you can know whether or not you can trust me, you will just have to wait and see. But don’t forget, you are the ones occupying another species’ world. The Dudl’lons did not invite you here, nor did they ask you to destroy their fleet or take control of their orbitals. Given that your Protectorate has invaded a neutral civilization, I would say that the very fact you and your people are still alive is evidence enough for you to begin to trust us. Whether you do or not, that is up to you.”

“If you are not going to oversee our torture, then why are you here?” Il’uvum asked.

Jonathan took a moment to look Il’uvum up and down. “Because I wanted to see my enemy face to face. Your Protectorate has launched an unprovoked attack on my species and our allies. You personally have occupied another species’ world. Tell me, why?”

Il’uvum puffed out his chest, though in comparison to the muscled marines around Jonathan, it wasn’t particularly impressive. The simple fact was, compared to Humans, the Rasmorse, though a mammalian-like species, weren’t very physically impressive. Il’uvum didn’t seem to notice however, for he spoke with a haughtiness that was well out of place. “I am a Sergeant General in the Eaglaton Protectorate Army. I follow orders, as does the Lieutenant General who ordered me here. For the greater good of the Eaglaton Protectorate and the Dudl’lon civilization, we secured this world so that they could not be subsumed into your empire.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh. He raised an arm and waved it around at the damaged and scarred buildings all around them. “Does it look to you like the Dudl’lons wanted you here? Do you think they see you as their friends, or their conquerors? If as I have heard your people claim, your Eaglaton Protectorate is so pure and righteous, then you should be able to admit when you are in the wrong. We had no intention of ever invading this system. My people had already struck a deal with King Krilim to keep this system out of our war. We are only here now because you invaded it.”

“You lie,” Il’uvum said, his voice rising. “You are here to conquer and enslave them.”

This time, Jonathan shook his head. He couldn’t argue with Il’uvum, the General was a zealot for the Protectorate cause. “I guess we will just have to see who is right,” he replied.

“Your ride is here,” Becca said from over Jonathan’s shoulder.

Jonathan nodded to her and then turned back to Il’uvum. “We will speak more later. But, if there is anything your people need, or you wish to complain about how you are being treated, ask for me and I will come.”

Il’uvum didn’t reply for several seconds. Jonathan thought the General was going to snub him. Instead, Il’uvum nodded slowly. “I will hold you to your words, Captain.”

“I expect nothing less,” Jonathan replied. He returned Il’uvum’s nod, then turned and caught Becca’s gaze. With a gesture of his head, he let her lead them off.

As they moved through the Protectorate base once again, this time towards one of the black beaches that ringed the island, Jonathan felt tension rising around him. The marines they passed held themselves more stiffly. Their gazes glanced more towards the sea than the Protectorate base around them. The two Imperial guard marines on either side of him hefted their plasma rifles higher, sensing the same thing. When Becca led them through a large hole that had been blasted in the Protectorate bases’ wall, Jonathan saw the cause of the tension. Twenty Dudl’lon tanks lined the beach, their muzzles and four of their eight pincer like legs were above the water while their engines and rear legs remained submerged. Behind the tanks, about four miles out from the beach, at least forty of their submarines were also poking above the sea’s surface. They were making a statement, though the marines held the base, there was no confusion about who owned the planet.

“It looks like we’re taking the same ride as last time,” Becca said nonchalantly, apparently oblivious to the alien weaponry all around her. She raised a hand and pointed beyond the Dudl’lon tanks to the top of a smaller submarine that was about twenty meters out from the crashing waves.

Jonathan didn’t remember the craft that had taken them to King Krilim’s city last time to be sure it was the same one, but he trusted Becca’s memory. “I guess there’s nothing for it then,” he said as he took a deep breath and then fished out his breathing apparatus from one of his tunic’s pockets. The last time he had visited Dudl’lon, this part of the planet had been enjoying its summer warm temperatures. Becca had already warned him the water would be thirty degrees colder this time.

Becca paused for a moment to fix her breathing apparatus around her mouth, turned, glanced at Jonathan to make sure he had his on, and then strode purposefully past the Dudl’lon tanks and into the crashing waves. Not wanting to appear deterred by the cold, Jonathan tensed his body as he followed after her. The first wave that washed around his feet almost made him jump. It was even colder than Becca had warned! There was no way he could turn back however, so gritting his teeth, he pressed on. Thanks to the weight of his armored suit, he was able to walk through the waves and under the sea’s surface. Ahead of them, he was able to see the rest of the submarine and the access ramp that was open. Two Dudl’lons were floating within the submarine at the top of the ramp awaiting them.

As a shiver ran down Jonathan’s spine, he picked up his pace. His armored suit was helping somewhat, but he wasn’t in the full combat armor Becca and his Imperial guard wore. He guessed the Dudl’lons had a way of heating their submarines, and he wanted out of the cold as soon as possible.

“Greetings, Captain,” one of the Dudl’lons said as Jonathan quickly moved up the access ramp into the submarine. “I am Special Advisor Alorom, I serve on King Krilim’s High Council. Our King is eager to meet with you.” As he spoke, Alorom gave Jonathan a deep bow. Jonathan hoped it was a positive sign of what was to come. He hadn’t been greeted with the same level of respect the last time.

“I am thankful for the invitation, and for the transport to your city,” Jonathan replied as he returned Alorom’s bow. A creak from behind him made Jonathan half turn. The access ramp had already closed. Moments later, he felt currents of warm water begin to envelop him. He had to fight back a sigh of relief as the cold around his fingers and toes began to subside.

“Your species is not used to such cold waters?” Alorom asked, picking up something from Jonathan’s body language.

Jonathan shook his head. “Most of us are not accustomed to spending extended periods underwater. Never mind water so cold.”

Alorom showed the many teeth that lined his long snout. “You needn’t worry any longer, Captain; the Palace water will be heated better than this submarine. King Krilim likes it to feel like summer all year around.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jonathan said. “How is your King, and your city? Did the Protectorate cause any damage when they occupied the planet?”

“When they first landed, they destroyed some of our submarines that tried to contest their forces,” Alorom explained. “When we realized they were destroying our subs with orbital strikes, King Krilim quickly called our forces back. After several days of negotiations and the threat of orbital strikes on our cities, we were forced to allow them to bring some of their troops into the city and the King’s palace. Officially, the Protectorates claimed they were guards protecting the Ambassador they placed on Krilim’s High Council. In reality, they were a threat, if Krilim stepped out of line, they would have been able to seize the palace and take our King into custody.”

“What did this ambassador want you to do?”

“Beyond providing assistance to help them rebuild our gas mining and storage facilities, very little,” Alorom answered. “But, we believe he also wanted to be able to keep an eye on us to make sure we were not planning some kind of uprising against their occupation.”

“And where is this Ambassador and his guards now?” Jonathan asked.

“I am afraid he did not carry out his job well enough,” Alorom said as he showed Jonathan another grin. “As soon as we were able to confirm you had destroyed the Protectorate ships in orbit, we struck. The Ambassador and all of his soldiers are dead.”

Jonathan nodded. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, though he did share a glance with Becca. From Alorom’s tone, he wasn’t sure if the Advisor was saying all the Protectorates had been killed in combat, or if they had been captured and put to death. Whichever it was, Jonathan didn’t feel now was the time to push the matter. Especially given what Alorom said next.

“I feel I should warn you, Captain, though we are happy that your ships defeated the Protectorates, we would have liked to be the ones who retook our island. We did not need your help.”

“I understood that when I offered the assistance of my marines,” Jonathan replied. “And having seen your forces in action, I understand even better now. If you recall however, I did offer our assistance, it was not forced upon you. Your King accepted it willingly, to save the lives of your people.”

Alorom waved a flipper at Jonathan. “He did, and it was the right decision. Nevertheless, we would still have liked to have been the ones to put an end to all the Protectorates who desecrated our planet.” When Jonathan didn’t reply immediately, Alorom turned to face him fully and swam a little closer. “The Protectorates are all dead, aren’t they?”

Again, Jonathan glanced at Becca. For once, he could tell her body was tense. “No,” he answered honestly. “Several hundred surrendered once their headquarters was captured. We have taken them prisoner.”

Alorom turned suddenly, swam several meters away and then spun back around. “Our people are not going to be happy at this news, not at all.” His tail swished back and forth vigorously. “As long as they live, they will be a reminder of the embarrassment that was brought upon our civilization.”

“I confess, I am somewhat confused,” Jonathan replied, holding up his hands in a calming fashion. “Have your species not fought wars against each other in the past? I believe I have read so in the history files you shared with me when I first visited. Did they not take prisoners in these wars?”

“We are not strangers to the concepts of surrendering and taking prisoners of war,” Alorom said. “But this is different. These Protectorate attacked us without reason. They desecrated our world and humiliated our King. There must be consequences for their actions.”

“On that, we are agreed,” Jonathan replied as he nodded. “But simply killing them will serve no one. It will only encourage their forces to kill ours in the future and would rob us of any intelligence we can gather from them. Killing prisoners is not the way of my species’ civilization.”

“We will see,” Alorom said ominously. “I will have to inform King Krilim of this development. It will have to be added to the agenda of our discussions.”

“I will be happy to speak with him on this matter,” Jonathan replied. To change the subject, he quickly asked Alorom about what had happened to their system after Salamanca’s fleet had left four months ago. Though Alorom was happy to talk him through it, the Adviser’s tone never quite returned to the friendly greeting he had first given Jonathan.

Before Jonathan realized, they drew near to the Dudl’lon city and Krilim’s palace. Though he knew what to expect this time, he was still amazed by the massive domes that reached up from the ocean floor and the many colored buildings, spires and submarines that made the city look like a kaleidoscope. “It is beautiful,” he found himself saying without thinking.

“I’m glad you are impressed,” Alorom said, his tone warming slightly. “We take great pride in our cities.”

“It shows,” Jonathan responded. “I said this to Krilim the last time I was here, but it is worth repeating; there are many worlds within our Empire that would benefit greatly from the engineering capabilities of your species.”

“Perhaps someday they will,” Alorom said, giving Jonathan a little more hope for how his audience with King Krilim was about to go.

As the shuttle touched down and Alorom led Jonathan and his Imperial Guard escort from the sub into the Palace, Jonathan was pleased to find the water was indeed warmer. Being led through the Palace, Jonathan was once again struck by how beautiful Dudl’lon architecture was. Even up close, it didn’t disappoint. When they came to the large throne room Jonathan had met Krilim in before, he wasn’t surprised to see it empty. He had met Krilim alone the last time, and it appeared he was to do so again this time. Except now, he knew there were actually guards hidden throughout the large chamber just out of sight. Guards and advisers, Jonathan guessed. They’d be listening to everything that was said.

“This is where I leave you, Captain,” Alorom said. “We shall speak afterwards.”

“Thank you for the escort,” Jonathan replied as he gave Alorom a small bow. Alorom bowed back, and then swam away. Jonathan turned towards where Krilim waited in the center of the large audience chamber. Well, this is going to be interesting, Jonathan thought to himself.

Chapter 9

The Empire’s constitution does not grant any direct authority to the wider Imperial family members. Yet down through history, that has not stopped certain figures from seeking to assert their influence. Sometimes this has been for the better, at others for the worse.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“Stay behind me,” Jonathan said to Becca as he moved ahead of her. He guessed she scowled at his command, but thankfully, she didn’t complain. He needed to meet Krilim as an equal, not hiding behind a guard.

As Jonathan approached, Krilim swished his tail and turned to face him. To Jonathan’s surprise, the Dudl’lon King bowed first. He even held the posture for half a second. As a gentle swish of his tail lifted Krilim’s head back up, Jonathan returned the gesture. “Thank you for coming, Captain Somerville, I was surprised to learn you commanded the ships that drove off the Protectorates, surprised, but not disappointed. It is a pleasure to see you again, especially given the circumstances.”

“And I’m thankful to be here,” Jonathan replied. “And to find you and your city in one piece. I feared for your safety when we discovered the Protectorate ships in your system.”

“I’m glad to hear of your concern,” Krilim said. “May I ask, what happened to your ship Achilles? She put on an impressive display the last time she was here.”

Jonathan lowered his eyes as several faces flashed through his memory. Faces that were now gone. “Achilles was destroyed, your Highness. In a battle with two Eaglaton warships.”

“Then you have my condolences, Captain, for your former ship and for the frigate you lost today. How many of your people did you lose?”

“One hundred and twenty, and a further eight marines in the assault on the Protectorate base,” Jonathan said.

“Please, pass on my condolences to the rest of your ships,” Krilim replied. “Your people have bled for my planet and our people. We will not long forget what you have done for us today.”

“And you have my condolences for the loss of your fleet. The Protectorates had no need to destroy your ships or force themselves upon you,” Jonathan said. “When we discovered they had ships in the system, I knew we needed to drive them away.”

“And drive them away you did,” Krilim said. “My naval advisors were impressed. You destroyed half their force and convinced the others to flee with just the loss of one ship.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Jonathan said, pleasantly surprised by how cordial Krilim was being.

“Now, tell me,” Krilim said as he moved closer to Jonathan, his tone turning more serious. “Just what do you plan to do now?”

Jonathan took a deep breath. “That depends largely on you, your Highness,” he said as he looked Krilim in the eye, gauging his response. “I would like to stay in the system if you would have us. We have captured the gas mining system the Protectorates were building, but if they went to the effort of destroying your fleet and occupying your world, they are likely to come back. Your gas giant is a valuable resource, one that they will want to secure for themselves and to keep out of our hands.

“It’s possible they already have other ships on their way to reinforce the system. And when their senior commanders learn the system has been lost, they may make recapturing it a priority. Other elements of the squadron my ships are part of are nearby; we can send for help and it will be here within the week. Moreover, Admiral Becket’s main fleet is pushing towards Ulan’nagn. If we can hold out until she captures the system, the Protectorates will have to fall back towards their home systems. They would have to give up holding this system if Ulan’nagn falls.

“However, when Rear Admiral Salamanca was last here, he promised no more Imperial ships would enter your system without your express approval. Given the circumstances we find you in, I thought it best to disregard this promise, but we will uphold it now. If you wish for my ships to leave, then we will do so. Our presence here may well attract more Protectorate ships, though I cannot guarantee they wouldn’t come back quicker if they detected we had left. In any case, we have no desire to conquer your system or hold it against your will. I consider myself a visitor here and so we will stay only as long as your hospitality is granted.”

Krilim took a moment to respond. “I am glad to hear your words, Captain,” he said slowly. “More than a handful of my Advisers fear that your coming signals nothing more than a change from one invader to another. My species is in an exceedingly difficult situation. We are stuck in the midst of a war between two superior navies, one we had no wish to be a part of, and yet, one we cannot remove ourselves from.”

“My senior commanders are sympathetic to your predicament, your Highness,” Jonathan said. “Like you, we had no desire to be forced into this war.”

“And yet, here we both find ourselves,” Krilim replied. “My people have a saying; war often makes strange swimming partners. It seems for the good of my people, I must throw our lot in with you and your Empire. Of the two of you, your Empire has shown itself to be the more trustworthy, so far at least.”

“We have a number of similar sayings, your Highness; ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ is one of them. Though I hope, in time, the relationship between our two species may progress beyond one of necessity. For now, however, I would be happy to keep my ships in your system until reinforcements can arrive.”

“And what if the Protectorates return before your reinforcements get here?” Krilim asked. “What if you are outnumbered?”

“I will not lie to you, my first responsibility is to my ships and my people,” Jonathan answered. “If we are outnumbered and I feel we cannot win, then I would have no choice but to fall back. However, I promise you, if there’s a chance, we will fight rather than abandon you. And if we must flee, we will return with the necessary ships to drive the Protectorates away. Now that we know they wish to use your system as a forward base, we cannot allow them to keep forces here. They would threaten the flank of our planned advance.”

“And just what are the prospects of this advance?” Krilim followed up. “I hope you realize the implication of all of this for my people. If this advance fails, or you lose this war, your Empire may lose several planets. But if we side with you and you lose, my people will lose everything. We would be conquered and forced into this Protectorate against our will. We would be no more than slaves.”

Jonathan nodded. “I understand the risks you are taking. I wish you did not have to make the choice that is laid before you. But as you have said, what choice do you really have? If I left with my ships now, the Protectorates would only come back. They already see your system as one that is essential to control. Even if you tried to stay neutral, if we lost the war, do you think they would let you keep your freedom after what you have already seen them do?”

Krilim’s snout moved back and forth. “No, I do not think they would. For all their mighty talk of liberty and protection, the Protectorates have shown none of it to us. You are right, in reality, I have no choice. My flipper has been forced… which brings me to my next question,” Krilim said after a moment’s pause. “Just what help can you give us in rebuilding the infrastructure and defenses the Protectorates destroyed?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. He had come into the meeting hoping Krilim would allow him to keep his ships in the system to protect Dudllias, but he had not thought Krilim asking for additional help was on the cards. “As you can imagine, at the moment our resources are stretched very thin. We have been thrust into a war we did not expect, nor were prepared for. However, I am certain my superiors would be willing to provide what support we can,” Jonathan said, thinking on his feet. “Especially if you are willing to trade fuel for any assistance. We could help get your gas mining station rebuilt and hand over the Protectorate one to you, then you could use the fuel from them to trade for further assistance. Though I feel I must caution you, the more help we give you, the larger the target on your back will become.”

“Yes, I am well aware of the risk,” Krilim said. “But we have become a target already. We cannot avoid that now. If the Protectorates are going to involve us in their war, then it may be best for my people that we fully commit to it. As I see it, if our system becomes an important fuel depot for your fleet, then you will have to protect it.”

“That is very likely, your Highness, but I must caution you, it will take months to rebuild your facilities here. And even then, if things go against our fleet and we have to fall back, wider strategic factors could still lead us to abandon defending your system,” Jonathan felt compelled to say.

Krilim gave a very human-like nod. “I am no stranger to having to make strategic decisions. I understand the risks we would be getting into. But as I see it, if my people wish to survive this war with a chance of having their freedoms intact, we must commit ourselves to you as fully as possible.”

Jonathan was taken aback once again at Krilim’s words. The Dudl’lon King had certainly had a change of heart since their last meeting. But having your defense fleet wiped out and your planet occupied will do that for you, Jonathan reminded himself.

“There is however at least one issue that may hamper the deepening of the friendship between us,” Krilim said, cutting off Jonathan’s delight in how the conversation was going. “The prisoners you have captured,” Krilim’s said in a sterner tone.

Jonathan swallowed hard. “You want them transferred into your custody?”

Krilim nodded. “They invaded my planet. They must face our justice.”

“Your Adviser gave me an idea of what your justice may entail,” Jonathan replied, not taking his gaze from Krilim. “It sounds like revenge, not justice. I cannot allow that.”

“You cannot allow that?” Krilim asked fiercely. “Who are you to make such a statement. You are on my planet, standing in my palace.”

“I’m well aware of where I am, your Highness, and I intend no insult. Yet, I meant what I said. The Protectorate soldiers surrendered to me. They will therefore be treated as prisoners of war.”

“They are invaders and slavers,” Krilim spat. “They deserve to be executed.”

“They were soldiers following orders,” Jonathan countered. “Orders that should not have been obeyed, yes. But they surrendered, as did the crews of two of their destroyers we crippled. If this war has any chance of ending in a peaceful settlement, we cannot begin killing prisoners. I will not allow it.” Jonathan tensed as he finished speaking, being so bold was a risk, but he needed Krilim to know there would be no negotiating on this issue.

Krilim eyed him for several seconds that seemed like they lasted minutes. “You are putting me in a very difficult position, Captain. Dictating to me what I can and cannot do on my own planet will turn many of my advisors and nobles against you, no matter what you and your ships have just done for us. And you put me in a precarious position as well.”

“For that I am sorry, your Highness,” Jonathan said genuinely.

“Perhaps then,” Krilim said, his tone suddenly lightening, “you would be willing to make some other concessions?”

“I may,” Jonathan said cautiously, suddenly feeling that he had walked into a trap.

“You are the heir of your Emperor, are you not?”

Now Jonathan knew something was up. Krilim knew full well who he was, which meant his question was for the many hidden Dudl’lons who were listening. “I am,” he answered even slower.

“Then you must have the authority to speak for your Emperor and his Empire?” Krilim inched closer to Jonathan as he spoke.

“In certain limited circumstances, yes that is true,” Jonathan admitted. “Though not far beyond what any Imperial Navy Captain may be able to do.”

“Well in this instance, if we are not to demand the prisoners that are rightfully ours, you must meet our needs in other ways,” Krilim said.

“Just what do you have in mind?” Jonathan asked, tired of beating about the bush.

“You have already spoken of how your Navy may or may not protect us, given how this war unfolds. However, I am certain that if it came to one of your own colonies, there would be no equivocation. You would not allow any to fall into the Protectorates’ hands without a fight, would you not?”

“I do not believe so, your Highness, at least, if we were to retreat, it would be a tactical one with the intention of returning to liberate our people.”

Krilim nodded. “In that case, I would like to request that your Emperor accept Dudllias and the Dudl’lon people into your Empire. I have read your constitution, I believe we are capable of meeting the entry requirements. Further, until such time that we are accepted, I would ask that you grant us associate status as laid out in your constitution to demonstrate that the process has begun.”

Jonathan found himself shaking his head. Not in answer to Krilim’s requests, but simply in bewilderment. The Vestarians had officially applied to be admitted into the Empire five years ago, even to his father’s surprise. And still the process of actually admitting them is ongoing, he reminded himself. Never in a million years had he expected Krilim to ask for the same thing.

“What do you say, Captain,” Krilim pressed when Jonathan was slow to reply.

Coughing, Jonathan cleared his throat to give him another second to think. Mentally, he ran through the provisions in the Imperial Constitution about new worlds seeking admittance. “Are your people on board with this?” he found himself asking. “Your civilization can only join if there is a democratic vote. Everyone must have their say.”

“My advisors and I are well aware of what is required, we have studied it closely,” Krilim responded. “And whilst there are some changes to our way of life that we would have to adapt to, they are not as significant as you might think. All of our Mayors are democratically elected. And our Nobles elected me as their King, a title I only hold as long as I maintain their confidence. Electing a worldwide Senate and Representatives to speak for us in your three Houses will not be too far from this. I admit, this is not what we would choose for ourselves, but circumstances are forcing our hands. My people will choose this over being conquered once again.” Jonathan was shaking his head again. He simply couldn’t get his mind around the idea. “Well, what say you?” Krilim pressed again.

There wasn’t much Jonathan could say. The constitution was clear. Any world that wished to join the Empire could request to do so. Jonathan was sure that when his father and mother had written it, Human worlds were the only ones in their mind. The Vestarian request had been a shock. But my parents honored it, how can I not honor this now? “Very well,” he found himself answering. “The Imperial Constitution is clear; you are free to request admittance into our federal system. I therefore accept your request as a representative of the Imperial Navy. I will send word back to Earth immediately so that the process may begin.”

“And associate status?” Krilim pressed. “Will you grant it to us now, as the Imperial heir?”

Jonathan hesitated. That was harder. Associate status meant the request had been officially accepted, which would grant the Dudl’lons a measure of legal rights within the Empire, including a legal demand for protection from the Imperial Navy. As Jonathan fought to find the right answer, he tried to picture how his mother would answer. He was certain a whole host of legal and political ramifications he hadn’t even thought of would be going through her mind. And yet, she wouldn’t lose sight of what is really important; the Dudl’lon people. Accepting would offer them a measure of protection they would never have otherwise. And how better to win the people to our side than by standing shoulder to shoulder with them? Jonathan asked in his mother’s voice. “King Krilim,” he said formally, knowing many others were listening, “as the Heir to the Imperial Throne, I do officially accept your request to seek admittance into the Empire, and therefore grant you and your people associate status. This does not mean we can protect you from a determined attack by the Protectorates, but it does mean I, and my Navy, will fight for you as if you were our own. On that, you have my word.”

“And as the King of my people, I gladly accept the status of association from you, Captain Somerville,” Krilim said as he gave Jonathan a deep bow.

Jonathan quickly returned it and then was surprised when Krilim moved forward holding out two flippers which, after a moment’s confusion, Jonathan managed to take in his two hands. They grasped each other for several seconds.

When they parted, Krilim began to ask questions about the process of joining the Empire. Jonathan answered, though he was only half aware of what he was saying. His mind was still a whirl. Even as the conversation moved on to what other benefits joining the Empire would bring, and then onto Becket’s planned campaign against the Protectorates, and what additional fleet elements might be moving through the Gift wormhole, Jonathan was still distracted.

Only when the audience with Krilim came to an end and he found himself back in the submarine taking him to the surface was he able to think clearly enough to take it all in. A part of him couldn’t help thinking that it was an elaborate ruse by Krilim. Associate status would provide Dudllias with a measure of protection, then once the war was over, he could take his world out of the joining process. But what will his people think about that? Having only met a few Dudl’lons who weren’t Krilim’s advisors, Jonathan wasn’t sure. And he has to know it would cause us a lot of embarrassment, it would damage relations between our two civilizations for decades. Assuming the Imperial Navy didn’t lose the war with the Protectorates, causing such a division would be foolish. If the war was won, the Imperial navy would become the dominate force in the area.

With new questions on his mind, Jonathan turned to Alorom. He stopped his question just as it reached his throat. Alorom was staring at him, his eyes smoldering. There was no other way to describe it. He is angry, Jonathan was sure. About what wasn’t as clear, the prisoners or joining the Empire, or even both. Jonathan thought better of asking. Instead, he returned to his own thoughts. Krilim would have to deal with the ramifications of his decisions himself.

When the submarine reached the island, Jonathan said farewell to Alorom, who gave a very stiff reply. Unsurprisingly, Major Roscommon and several Marines were on the beach waiting for Jonathan. “How did it go, Captain?” Roscommon asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “You’d hardly believe it if I told you. There’s no time right now; however, I’ll fill you in later. We need to get to work.”

“Yes, Sir,” Roscommon replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“First, I need a shuttle; I need to go back to Kestrel at once. Then you need to start taking the prisoners up to our ships.” As Jonathan spoke, he looked over his shoulder towards the large Dudl’lon submarines that still surrounded the island. “The sooner we get them off planet, the safer they and we will be.”

“Understood, Captain, we will make those arrangements at once,” Roscommon said. He hesitated for a moment before starting to give out orders.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked.

“There has been a development, Captain, Lieutenant Cortez told me to give you this,” Roscommon said as he handed Jonathan a datapad.

Taking it, Jonathan frowned as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. Then his eyebrows rose. His eyes shot up to Roscommon, but the marine Major didn’t appear to know what he was looking at. Jonathan looked back down at the datapad. He shook his head. His technicians must have had more than a stroke of luck. For a moment, any thoughts of defending Dudllias or the Dudl’lons request to join the Empire were gone. Instead, a whole host of new possibilities opened up by the information he was looked at spun through his mind.

“Good news, Captain?” Roscommon asked.

Jonathan hefted the datapad up and waved it at Roscommon. “More than that, excellent news Major. But it makes it all the more urgent to get back to Kestrel.”

“Understood, Captain, I’ll call that shuttle immediately,” Roscommon snapped.

As the marine turned away and began to give out orders, Jonathan started making plans. Kestrel and Wasp would have to stay in the system to guard Dudllias, but he had to get word out about everything that had happened as fast as possible. He would send Unicorn to Commodore Magnuson and request he bring the rest of his squadron to Dudllias. Scimitar could then race to find Becket’s fleet and inform her of everything that had transpired.

For in addition to requiring Dudllias be protected, associate status also gave some rights to the Imperial Navy, and Jonathan was sure Becket would want to start developing the system’s gas giant for He3 extraction. A second fuel source would be invaluable for her push towards Protectorate space, especially given the information Cortez had just sent him. And we still have the prisoners to interrogate, and the intelligence gathered from the captured ships to go through, Jonathan remembered. Who knows what else we might find? Though he was exhausted, he didn’t see any sleep in his immediate future.

Chapter 10

Assaulting an inhabited world is never risk free. The civilian population always faces the possibility of being hit by stray weapons fire. Or worse, a ground strike from a crashing warship or station could wipe out a population center. These risks have only increased as the power of the Empire’s and our adversaries’ weaponry have increased.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, 21st February 2510 AD, (six days later).

Though she was meant to be in her office relaxing, Admiral Becket had a live feed of the Ulan’nagn system up on her desk’s main holo display. At least, live as far as her ships’ passive sensors were concerned. The electromagnetic energy washing over them had spent four hours travelling through space before reaching Trident. Even so, Becket watched intently. There were over a hundred Protectorate freighters in orbit and though it was hard to make out with just her dreadnought’s passive sensors, it looked very much like hundreds of shuttles and drones were unloading their cargo and working on constructing a number of battlestations and defense satellites.

In a higher orbit, there were six hundred Protectorate warships along with the smaller Bar’samin fleet. When her fleet had arrived on the far outskirts of the Ulan’nagn system four days ago, Becket had been expecting to discover more ships. Yet, there was no sign of Lvant’s main Protectorate fleet. That didn’t mean the Protectorates weren’t preparing to come under attack, though. Clearly, they were rushing as fast as they could to build up the Bar’samin homeworld’s defenses. But do they know we are this close? Becket wondered. For the last month, she had deployed five hundred cruisers, destroyers, and frigates out across sixty different systems to screen her advance. From almost all of them, reports had been coming in of skirmishes with Protectorate scout ships, but crucially, as far as she could tell, none had been able to spot her fleet. No doubt the Protectorate fleet commander in command of Ulan’nagn’s defenses knew something was up. But with her ships operating in so many systems, there were many possible destinations she could be moving her fleet to. Assuming the Protectorate scouts had even been able to establish she had left the Gift wormhole yet.

Around Trident, Becket had over a thousand warships. If the Protectorates thought their battlestations would protect the world of their ally, they were mistaken. The frantic construction activity was already too late. The only question that was holding Becket back was the possibility it was a trap. If Lvant had his full fleet nearby, he could jump in and pin her between Ulan’nagn’s defenders and his ships as she tried to attack. Nine days ago, she had sent three scouting squadrons forward and around the Bar’samin system, two had returned and she was just waiting for the third to send word back to her. She was expecting a message within the hour. Hence, why she found herself unable to relax. If the third squadron reported no sign of Lvant, she intended to attack.

To keep herself distracted from the slow passage of time, Becket switched focus to her own fleet. With so many light ships out on patrol in other systems, her force was very top-heavy. Ninety dreadnoughts and battleships were arrayed in several lines adjacent to Trident. Nearly a third of the rest of her force was made up of battlecruisers and heavy cruisers. If it came to a straight-up fight, Becket had no doubts her fleet would blow the Protectorate warships out of the water. She had the system’s orbital defenses to worry about though, along with any fighters the Protectorates had. Not to mention she wanted to capture the system with most of its orbital infrastructure intact. That would make things a little more complicated.

In her mind, she once again began to play out the different tactics she and her command staff had prepared. Closing her eyes, she imagined her fleet breaking up into different elements and moving into the system to assault the targets she had assigned them. As she envisaged her strategy unfolding, she tried to think of various responses her opponent could attempt, or surprises that might throw a spanner in the works. No new ones came to her. When her plan played out just as she intended, she started over and repeated the process. Not long later, she was interrupted by a buzzing from the COM unit built into her office desk. “Go ahead,” she said after tapping it.

“Admiral, a frigate from Commodore Fairhead’s squadron has just jumped into the system,” Lieutenant Rodgers reported. “Any message she has transmitted will reach us in approximately three minutes. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, I’ll come to the bridge presently. Inform Captain Godwin and Commander Albright as well.”

“Will do, Admiral,” Rogers replied.

With her office just a few steps away from Trident’s bridge, Becket beat the rest of her staff officers there. As they filed in behind her, she sought out the frigate. As per its orders, it had jumped out of shift space far beyond the system’s mass shadow. Becket didn’t want any Protectorate patrol ships or sensor drones picking up the frigate’s reversion to real space.

“Now we will see,” Godwin said as he entered the bridge and moved to his Captain’s command chair. “I find it hard to believe he really has fallen back to their worlds,” Godwin added. “But anything is possible.”

Becket nodded. Strategically, it made no sense for Lvant to move the bulk of his force away from the Bar’samins’ system. Here, he had a good supply of fuel, and a central position from which to threaten Bastion, the Conclave species worlds, and the Gift. Yet, it didn’t appear Lvant’s fleet was in the system, and Becket’s other two scouting squadrons had seen no sight nor sign of him. “We are still only beginning to get to know this enemy. What might seem foolish to us, may be standard operating procedure for them,” Becket mused.

“Or they may have underestimated just how quickly we would be willing to go on the offensive,” Commander Albright, Becket’s Chief of Staff, said as he joined everyone else on Trident’s bridge. Albright shared a smile with Becket. “Not every commander in the Imperial Navy would have pushed her fleet forward so quickly after the Battle of the Gift.”

“Well, we are here now,” Becket responded. “And if Lvant isn’t, then we’re in a prime position. Rodgers, any communication yet?”

“Yes, Admiral, it’s coming in now,” Rodgers replied after a moment’s pause. He leaned in closer to his console, clearly reading something. “They only encountered a handful of Protectorate ships,” he said quickly as his head shot up and towards Becket. “Sending the full report to your consoles now, but that’s the headline.”

Though Becket wanted to act immediately, she opened the report and quickly scanned through it. Fairhead had found very little. Her squadron had thoroughly searched two of the nearest systems to Ulan’nagn. Apart from the expected Protectorate patrols, there had been no sign of Lvant’s warships, or the large freighter fleet his ships would need to keep them in supply. “It seems our friend Lvant really has left this part of the sector to us,” Becket said as she finished reading. “It makes little sense to me, but I’m not going to complain. Let’s take advantage of his folly. Begin our attack,” she ordered loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear. “We will stick with plan Alpha. I want to jump in five minutes. It is time for the Protectorates to find out what it is like when we go on the offensive.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Albright said enthusiastically, “I’ll pass the order to our fleet.” Around Trident’s bridge, most of the other officers smiled or shared looks with one another.

Becket nodded to her Chief of Staff. Since the Protectorates had begun their unprovoked war, they had handed the Imperial Fleet a number of defeats and forced the Imperial forces this side of the Gift onto the defensive. Now, for the first time, the Imperial Fleet was properly going on the offensive. Even Becket felt her mood lift, despite the prospect of an approaching battle.

And if plan Alpha works, it is just what the fleet needs, Becket thought. For the last two days, her ships had all remained stationary with most of their systems powered down far beyond the Ulan’nagn system’s mass shadow. That had given them plenty of time to come up with a series of attack plans. Given that there was no sign of Lvant, Becket saw no need to utilize some of her more cautious approaches. Not that she was entirely throwing caution to the wind.

“Commodore Jenkins’ ships are beginning their attack now, Admiral,” Albright reported when the time came.

The first act of her plan began as forty light ships blinked out of existence as they jumped into shift space. Their micro jump would last just three seconds. Coming out of shift space right on the system’s mass shadow, they began to engage the patrol ships the Protectorate had watching the shift passage. Stealth drones that had been lanced into the system two days ago had already pinpointed each Protectorate patrol, and so, one by one, they were either destroyed or driven off.

However, just before the last three were pushed away from the shift passage, another one hundred ships under the command of Rear Admiral Davenport disappeared from Trident’s screen. Reappearing three seconds later, they remained in stealth and slowly began to cruise into the system towards the system’s only gas giant. Six large carriers were at the heart of their formation.

Large and hard to hide, two of the Protectorate ships got trace returns off the carriers from their passive sensors. Word was transmitted back to the Protectorate commander that Human carriers were trying to sneak into the system, just as Becket intended.

Half an hour passed before the Protectorates responded. When they did, Becket shared a glance with Godwin. The Protectorate commander was being coy. All six hundred of his warships were breaking orbit; however, instead of rushing towards the gas giant to protect it, they settled onto a course that would take them towards the shift passage Becket’s fleet was still in. It looked like the Protectorate fleet was simply trying to get more maneuvering room in case an Allied invasion fleet appeared. In reality, the Protectorate fleet’s course was slowly bringing them closer to the gas giant. In an hour or so, Becket judged, they would be able to turn and quickly reach the gas giant. It would allow them to intercept any fighter strike Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet could launch. “All right, jump us in,” Becket ordered, deciding the time had come.

Moments later, the nine hundred ships in formation around Trident all jumped into and then out of shift space. Remaining in stealth, they began to move into the system. With no Protectorate ships anywhere nearby, there was no risk of being detected yet. For another forty minutes, the various groups of ships within the system continued on their courses. Then Trident’s passive sensors began to detect new contacts. Seemingly out of nowhere, though really from where Davenport’s fleet was in stealth, two hundred Hellcat fighters appeared. They were only detectable because of the gravimetric waves produced by the sudden acceleration from their impulse engines. Accelerating as hard as they could, the fighters raced towards the gas giant. The Protectorate fleet reacted right away, abandoning any pretense of getting more maneuvering room. They too turned towards the gas giant and went to full acceleration. Becket watched them for five minutes and then turned to Albright. “Commander, time to let them know we are here.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Albright replied.

At a command from Albright, Trident led Becket’s fleet as their reactors and engines powered up almost to full, and they surged forward into the system. Unlike Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet, Becket had her ships lined up straight towards Ulan’nagn. Given how far her ships had moved into the system in stealth, Becket’s move left the Protectorate commander with a dilemma. Unless he acted fast, his ships wouldn’t be able to return to Ulan’nagn fast enough to stop Becket from being able to take the planet all but unopposed. Currently, the Bar’samin fleet, along with the few working Protectorate orbital defenses, were the only forces defending their planet. They were no match for Becket’s nine hundred ships.

Though Davenport’s two hundred fighters were still charging towards the gas giants and its mining facilities, the Protectorate commander made the only decision he could. Faced with the prospect of losing the planet and all the gas stored in orbit, or the gas mining facility, he turned his ships around. As the holo plot updated, it showed the Protectorate fleet would get back just in time to add their firepower to the planet’s defenses. Twenty minutes later, every eye on Trident’s bridge focused on the gas giant. Davenport’s fighters were about to launch their strike. Opposing them were a handful of defense satellites and the squadron of destroyers and frigates that had been based at the gas giant. Suddenly, twenty additional contacts appeared as Protectorate fighters appeared to join the fight.

“A hidden orbital hanger,” Godwin guessed. His next words echoed Becket’s thoughts. “I wonder how many more of those they have at Ulan’nagn.”

“That’s a question I want an answer to,” Becket said as she caught Albright’s eyes. “Find out where those fighters took off from, and ascertain if there are any more of the structures at Ulan’nagn.”

“At once, Admiral,” Albright replied.

If Davenport’s fighters had been trying to blow up the gas mining station, the forces arrayed against them would have been daunting, even without the additional fighters. However, Becket had always intended them as a diversion. Instead of diving past the enemy fighters and destroyers, the Hellcats engaged the Protectorate forces at extreme range. Anti-fighter missiles and a brief dogfight took the Protectorate fighters out of the equation. Then antimatter missiles fired at long-range destroyed thirty-six of the forty-two enemy light ships. As the Imperial fighters pulled up and away before the defense satellites and the point defenses of the large gas mining facility could open up on them, the holo plot registered just one hundred and seventy of them. Though they had taken losses, they had done their job. The gas mining facility was now largely stripped of its defenders. Without having to give additional orders, another one hundred fighters suddenly launched from Admiral Davenport’s fleet. They set course for the gas mining facility to finish the job.

“Take us to full power,” Becket ordered at the same time the new fighters appeared. “Let’s get on with this.”

As the acceleration rates of Becket’s fleet increased by ten percent, the holo plot updated to show the new situation. Suddenly, the Protectorate fleet wasn’t going to be able to reach Ulan’nagn in time. However, at the same time as they increased their acceleration rates, Trident and her consorts also altered their heading slightly. Instead of heading towards the Bar’samin’s planet, they were moving to cut off the Protectorate fleet. Having lured it away from the planet, Becket’s plan had always been to take it out first.

“What about those hidden hangers?” Godwin asked Albright after the fleet completed its maneuver.

“Stealth drones have detected four of the bases at Ulan’nagn,” Albright answered. “There was only one in orbit around the gas giant. So, I estimate that gives them eighty more fighters. But, there could be more.”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Becket said. If she was the enemy commander, she would sortie all her fighters from the planet to reinforce her fleet. That would give the Protectorate warships the best chance to ravage the Imperial Fleet before it could attack the planet. “Instruct Wing Commander Davidson to prepare his force to launch,” Becket ordered.

“Yes, Admiral,” Lieutenant Farnsworth responded.

Sure enough, just as Becket predicted, just over a hundred new contacts appeared from Ulan’nagn’s orbit and raced towards the Protectorate fleet. “Give Davidson the go order,” Becket said. Though she had sent most of her largest carriers with Rear Admiral Davenport, Becket had still kept more than enough Hellcats and Varanni Pulses to defend her ships. From her fleet, Davidson launched with two hundred fighters and charged towards the Protectorate fighters. The holo plot updated to show the allied fighters would intercept the Protectorates before they could reach their warships.

Though outnumbered and able to see the same thing, Becket was impressed as the Protectorate fighters continued without altering course. They were going to try and fight their way through to reinforce the Protectorate fleet. Good luck to you, Becket thought towards them. Half an hour later, both groups of fighters crashed into one another. Two anti-fighter missiles were fired from each Imperial fighter in quick succession. Then, tens of thousands of laser beams filled space between the twisting and weaving fighters. Explosions ripped up and down both formations. As the fighters passed one another, they all spun their noses around and kept hammering at whatever targets they could find until their momentum took them out of range. The battle lasted less than forty seconds. Yet, in that time, ninety-two Protectorate fighters were destroyed at a cost of thirty-nine allied ones. As soon as she saw only a handful of Protectorate fighters were left, Becket dismissed them from her calculations. They were no longer a threat.

“Deploy the rest of the fighters and Lancer frigates forward,” Becket ordered next. “Fire as soon as we come into range.”

With their longer-range missiles, the Protectorate fleet was able to fire first. Having given up reaching Ulan’nagn, the enemy fleet turned to close and give battle. For though they had the long-range missiles, it was their shorter-range multistage missiles they wanted to be able to use. “They want to cause as much damage to us as possible to give the planet’s defenders a chance to beat us,” Becket guessed. She was impressed by the Protectorate fleet’s willingness to sacrifice themselves for the Bar’samin. I guess they take some of their claims about looking after weaker species seriously, Becket begrudgingly admitted.

As the battle played out, compared to many Becket had fought in, and even commanded, it went largely according to plan. The first three long-range missile salvos the Protectorate’s fired caused little damage. The single grazer beams released by the few bomb-pumped warheads that managed to evade the allied defensive fire were relatively easy to dodge. Though more than thirty ships were still destroyed or crippled. As soon as her ships were in range to return fire, Becket began to maneuver to keep the Protectorate ships at medium range so they couldn’t fire their shorter-range missiles. Given the momentum her fleet had built up chasing the Protectorate ships, she was unable to be totally successful. Yet, by the time the Protectorate fleet began to fire their shorter-range missiles, she had already destroyed two hundred of their ships. As her short-range mark VII missiles were also able to come into play, the battle came to a dramatic conclusion. Three final salvos of short-range missiles from both fleets ended the fight. From each mark VII missile that got into range, three laser beams stabbed into the Protectorate warships. Across the three missile salvos, thousands of beams struck at the Protectorate fleet, ravaging all but a handful of their ships. After the final salvo detonated, the surviving thirty Protectorate ships cut their engines, surrendering before one more salvo could wipe them out.

Despite the horrific losses the Protectorate fleet suffered, the ten small, fast, and extremely agile missiles released were a real headache for Becket’s defensive gunners. Her fleet suffered several hundred hits and over eighty ships were wrecked or destroyed outright. Many more suffered hits, however, because of the small missile’s limited warheads, most hits were not fatal. Trident was struck by three such hits without suffering any hull breaches.

“Get rescue shuttles out to our damaged ships,” Becket ordered as soon as the remaining Protectorate ships cut their engines. “And begin rescue operations. If there are any of our people out in space, I want them back ASAP.”

“Right away, Admiral,” Albright responded.

“What do you want to do about the surrendered ships?” Farnsworth asked.

“Get marines over to them, but rescue and repair operations take priority first,” Becket answered.

As everyone around her threw themselves into dealing with the fallout from the battle, Becket allowed herself to sit back in her command chair and let out a slow breath. The battle hadn’t been particularly taxing on her mentally, but no battle was easy. Even after decades, each one of her ships that she watched being destroyed cut her deeply. And it’s not over yet, she thought as she glanced at the holo display showing the wider system. Rear Admiral Davenport’s second fighter group was moving in to attack the gas mining facilities, and she still had Ulan’nagn’s defenses to deal with. But we have taken out the main threat, she reassured herself. Now, it is over to those fighter pilots. Her mind went to the Emperor’s daughter. Becket knew James wouldn’t be pleased by what she had asked of Georgia, but if anyone could do it, Georgia could.

Chapter 11

For generations after they became obsolete, aspiring adventurers looked back upon the pilots of the Karacknid Wars with nostalgic envy. Much like the pilots from Humanity’s early years of flight, Imperial fighter pilots were seen as the pinnacle of Humanity’s war fighters. None more so than the Imperial Princess Georgia Somerville. Of course, that was centuries ago. Now, the fame of such pilots has faded away, only to be found in obscure history books naval students are made to read.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Flight Leader Georgia Somerville reached out and grabbed her Hellcat’s flight stick. With the handful of enemy ships that were left protecting the Bar’samin gas mining station just minutes away, she began to carry out a series of gentle evasive maneuvers designed to test her fighter’s controls. Everything responded as expected.

Though she knew better, she couldn’t help dwelling on her feelings. It was strange going into a battle not assuming she was going to be killed. When she had led the ill-fated charge through Lvant’s fleet to take out the Protectorate anti-eddy ships that had been keeping the wormhole closed, none of her pilots had expected to survive. Out of the hundreds of pilots that had begun the mission, less than twenty had made it through. The few of them who were still up to flying combat missions were Georgia’s wingmates. She now commanded a squadron made up of the survivors of that battle. They were the best pilots in the Imperial Fleet as far as Georgia was concerned. So, though their current mission was perilous, she felt a confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time.

And yet, at the same time, her confidence made her miss Starling Two all the more. Her old wingmate had sacrificed herself to destroy the last Protectorate anti-eddy ship. As much as Georgia trusted her new wingmate, it just wasn’t the same. It felt like she was going into battle with a hand missing. For no matter how many hours she had crammed into the simulators with her new pilots, it couldn’t replace the many months and battles she and Starling Two had honed their skills in.

Enough, Georgia thought to herself sternly. She was determined to avenge Jenny’s death and make sure her sacrifice was worth it. Getting herself killed because of distractions from memories of her friend would accomplish exactly the opposite. Forcing her mind back to the task at hand, Georgia clicked on her squadron COM unit. “Rogues, check in,” she requested.

Despite this situation and her emotions, the name brought a wry grin to her lips as she spoke it. She had chosen the name from one of her favorite books growing up. Given who her fellow pilots were, it had seemed appropriate, but this was the first time she was using it in combat. She hoped they would live up to their namesakes.

“Rogue Two here, Flight leader, all systems are green, don’t worry, I have your back,” a very young and brash sounding male voice replied.

Georgia shook her head at Rogue Two. Despite everything he had been through, he hadn’t lost an ounce of bravado. As the rest of her squadron checked in, the tone was a little more measured, though it was clear every pilot was eager to get into action. Georgia knew, like her, they wanted payback. The Bar’samin gas mining station had been used to harvest much of the He3 that had fueled the Protectorate fleet’s attack on Bastion and the Gift, and so today’s target would be a good start.

“All right,” Georgia said once all her pilots had checked in. “You know the mission parameters. Hold your missiles unless absolutely necessary. We’ll use what’s left as a final screen to mask our approach. This is going to require some delicate shooting, so keep your wits about you and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“You’ve briefed us well, Flight Leader, we’ve got this,” Rogue Four assured Georgia.

You’ve got to trust them, Georgia thought to herself, though it was easier said than done. This was the first time she had directly led any of them into battle. After surviving the death run that had been the attack on the Protectorate fleet at the Gift, she didn’t want them to die now because of her.

“Flight Leaders, begin your attack,” Wing Commander Endo ordered without emotion across the Wing’s COM channel.

Around Georgia’s squadron, the other eight squadrons boosted their engines up to maximum and dove in towards the Bar’samin and Protectorate defenders. A hail of point defensive laser fire began to reach up for them. Georgia instantly fell into a hyperfocused state as she began her evasive maneuvers. Ahead of her, she was only barely aware of the battle that broke out. First, the enemy gunners began to find their targets and Hellcats started to be blown up. Then, the leading squadrons got into range with their antimatter missiles. More than a hundred of them streaked towards the remaining enemy ships. Then, a second and third wave shot out from the different squadrons as defense stations and satellites were also targeted. They all resulted in a series of antimatter blooms erupting in front of Georgia.

As they cleared, Georgia checked space ahead of her for targets. One enemy warship and two defense stations looked intact. Her finger moved down to her trigger as she designated the ship as a primary target. Before she could fire, however, six missiles streaked out from the fighters of Blue squadron, one of the squadrons that was escorting her Hellcats to their targets. Then, twelve were launched from the second squadron. Even as fire continued to zip past her Hellcat, Georgia watched the missiles’ advance. Several were shot down, but enough survived to hit all three of their targets. Suddenly, the gas mining station had been stripped of all of its defenders. That didn’t mean the fire being directed at Georgia slackened, however, for the mining station itself was heavily armed, and with most of the Imperial fighters now pulling up and away, the station was focusing on her squadron and their escorts.

“We’re ready to fire on your call, Rogue One,” the Flight Leader of Blue squadron informed Georgia.

Georgia’s hand tapped furiously on a secondary display as she worked out exactly where she wanted to release her missiles. “Fire in five seconds,” she said over the COM channel connecting her pilots and those of the two squadrons just in front of her. “Four,” she said, then winced as two explosions rocked Blue squadron in quick succession. “Three, Two, One,” she continued through gritted teeth. From Rogue squadron twenty-four antimatter missiles launched themselves towards the gas mining station. They were joined by another twenty-two from Blue and Lightning squadrons.

As soon as they released their missiles, the fighters of Blue and Lightning squadrons peeled away from the mining station’s fire. Georgia’s squadron continued. Thankfully, the fire coming against them slackened considerably as the station’s gunners tried to take out the antimatter missiles. Over the course of six seconds, quite a few were destroyed. Still, more than enough remained to obliterate the station. That was not their purpose, however. For hundreds of thousands of kilometers from the station, they began to detonate. In a pre-planned schedule, the antimatter missiles detonated in pairs, each right after the other. The result was a long series of antimatter bubbles that stretched out towards the gas mining station. The moment the first antimatter warheads detonated, Georgia swung her Hellcat around to point her engines at the station and gunned them to full. The pilots of her squadron copied the maneuver. Arresting their momentum as quickly as they could, Rogue squadron passed through each twin antimatter bloom just as it was dissipating. For a full ten seconds, they were able to fly down the long line of explosions, protected from the station’s sensors and weapons.

“Break!” Georgia ordered as soon as the last antimatter bloom began to dissipate. Swinging her fighter around once again, she focused on the lower left struts of the station. Her targets were located there. Instantly, the enemy gunners began to open fire once again. Now, however, Georgia was in range with her own laser cannons. Picking out point defensive cannon after cannon, Georgia began to blow them away even as she dodged the fire coming at her. Her shield flared twice as laser beams brushed them, but they didn’t lose all their strength. Ignoring the danger to herself, Georgia kept shooting at target after target until there were none left. The sudden cessation of fire coming her way surprised her. Her eyes widened as she searched the station for more point defense guns, but she couldn’t locate any. As she sought out the rest of her squadron, she saw them all continuing their evasive maneuvers, but no fire was trying to seek them out.

“Rogue Squadron, any targets left?” Georgia asked.

“None left in my section, Rogue One,” Rogue Two replied. “I got them all.”

“Not detecting any either,” Rogue Four added. Quickly, the rest of the pilots reported the same.

Wanting to be sure, Georgia swung her fighter up and around the station. Neither her targeting sensors nor eyes could spot anything that looked like a defensive weapon. With a nod, she switched her COM channel. “Strike Force, this is Rogue One, the way is clear, repeat, the way is clear.”

“Copy, Rogue One,” the Pilot leading Strike Force’s shuttles responded. “Our ETA is sixty seconds, keep an eye open for any surprises.”

“Will do Strike Force, we have you covered,” Georgia assured the pilot.

*

Special Forces Marine Lieutenant Sofia Johnston clenched her teeth hard to fight down the butterflies in her stomach. She had been in combat once before. Yet, that had been over a year and a half ago, and it had been against other Humans, not aliens. Fighting secessionists without combat armor was likely to be a walk in the park compared to what she was about to do. No one knew just how effective the Bar’samin crew would be at defending their station, but given how hostile they had come across in each of Humanity’s encounters with them so far, everyone was betting they would be far from happy to see Sofia’s marines.

If we even make it, she thought guiltily. It wasn’t that she mistrusted her friend. She and Georgia had grown up around the palace together. Sofia knew her friend had become a very competent fighter pilot. Still, it would normally be suicide for a group of shuttles to try and board an enemy orbital station that hadn’t first surrendered. The thought that she could be blown up by a Bar’samin gunner any second without a chance to fight back had her stomach in knots.

What was worse though, unlike her last combat mission, she was now a Lieutenant. Six squads, two shuttles worth of marines were counting on her! One mistake, and their deaths would end up on her hands. Hold it together, she told herself crossly. This is no way for a Johnston to act! Though her father had assured her many times that he still got scared before a battle, she didn’t believe him for one second. All her life, Sofia had been forced to live up to the highest of expectations because of who her father was. In part, their similar experiences were why she and Georgia had bonded so well. Like Georgia, Sofia liked to think she had lived up to the expectations well, but now, she was about to find out for real. Both her combat capabilities and leadership skills were about to be tested.

“Thirty seconds!” the shuttle pilot called out. “Rogue Squadron has cleared the way for us.”

Sofia’s butterflies lessened, but the rest of her body tensed. As she had been trained to do a thousand times, she turned her plasma rifle around and checked its charge. Its capacitors were full. She had enough power and ammunition for a thousand shots. Next, she checked her grenades and other combat accessories. Up and down the shuttle, the other twelve marines did the same. “Stay strapped in, marines,” Sofia called out when she was ready. The manual said some marines in their first combat drop were always tempted to unbuckle their straps early to be able to charge out the shuttle faster. Yet, one evasive maneuver or a heavy touch down, and the marine could be sent flying, injuring themselves and others. Sofia didn’t understand the need for the order, she hated flying, and so there was no way she was taking her buckle off until the pilot said so, but she gave it, nonetheless.

Her words barely left her lips before a jolt shook Sofia against her restraints. The shuttle had just touched down on the mining station. “Deploy!” the shuttle pilot called out.

At once, Sofia unbuckled herself and charged out the shuttle’s rear access ramp as it descended. First Fire Team’s four marines were out ahead of her. They fanned out around the shuttle using their combat armor’s magnetic boots to clamp themselves to the station’s hull. Sofia led the other fire team towards the docking hatch that was their target. As expected, when they got there, it was locked tight. Turning, Sofia waved up Second Fire Team’s demolition expert, then she gestured towards the shuttle’s pilot. He returned her gesture through his cockpit window. Seconds later, the shuttle’s engines flared and it took off to circle the station from a safe distance. About two hundred meters away, another shuttle took off, letting Sofia know her other squad had also disembarked. They would be moving on their docking hatch as well.

“Charges secure, Lieutenant,” the demolition marine informed Sofia.

Sofia nodded to him when she activated her COM unit. “Sergeant Milton, are you ready?”

“Charges set, Lieutenant,” Second Squad’s sergeant replied.

“Detonate in five,” Sofia ordered. Quickly, she stepped away from the docking hatch in front of her. Her demolition marine held up three fingers, and then quickly dropped one after the other. Sofia turned her head even as her amour’s visor darkened as it sensed the explosion. “Breach, breach, breach,” she ordered as she turned to see the docking hatch careening away from the station into space.

First Fire Team was through first, then Sofia followed close behind. The now-wrecked hatch led into a narrow corridor, suggesting the hatch was used for transferring people and not freight. “Secure left, secure right,” Sofia ordered as First Fire Team split into two groups of two and moved down each end of the corridor. “Back them up, Second Fire Team,” Sofia said as the marines of Second Fire Team moved past her.

“Left secure,” a marine reported.

“Right secure,” another added a second later.

“Deploying drones,” Sofia announced as she activated a compartment in her armor. As it opened, hundreds of microscopic drones took off and sped down both directions of the corridor. Immediately, Sofia’s HUD began to be updated with a map of the internals of the station.

“Drones are away, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Milton reported.

Within seconds, new areas of the station began to be mapped out as Milton’s drones started spreading throughout the station as well. Soon, they were joined by four other sets of drones. Their appearance told Sofia the marines from all six shuttles had landed and breached the station.

“Hold position, and secure the hull breaches,” Sofia informed her two squads. Normally on a boarding, venting much of the station’s atmosphere into space worked in the favor of the attackers, as it often caught the defenders out before they could don their space suits. However, Admiral Becket wanted the gas mining station captured intact, and so they couldn’t risk causing any unnecessary damage.

As her marines deployed the portable air locks they had brought, Sofia forced herself to wait patiently. Major Gomez was in command of the assault, they needed to wait for his next orders. Without knowing the exact layout of the station beforehand, Gomez was having to plan the assault on the fly. A new symbol popped up on her HUD just seconds after the station was fully mapped out by the drones. A red dot began to flash in the center of a large compartment Sofia guessed housed the station’s reactors.

Her COM unit crackled moments later. “Lieutenant Johnston, you are to secure the reactors. Once you have them, see if you can cut power to all non-essential systems.”

“Understood, Sir, we’re on our way,” Sofia responded. On her HUD, Sofia mapped out the quickest route for her two squads to meet up and move to the station’s reactors. Then, she planned a couple of secondary routes in case they encountered stiff resistance. With a thought, she sent the routes to her two squads. “Second squad, take point. Let’s move!” She ordered.

As her fire teams moved out, Sofia watched the live feed from First Squad’s lead marine, even as she kept a close eye on her own surroundings. A large part of her wanted to be the one taking point. She was the only special forces marine in her force, though the others had their own augments, they were nothing like hers. If it came to a firefight, she wanted to be the one taking the greatest risk. Yet, she knew she couldn’t. The whole point of her assignment to the marine division she was a part of was for her to get command experience leading ordinary marines. If she was to continue to advance up the chain of command, she had to be able to lead ordinary marines just as easily as special forces marines.

“Contact!” The lead marine hissed as he rounded a tight turn in a corridor and came across three Bar’samin. They wore no armor, and so the copious amounts of hair that hung down from their muscled bodies made it look like the marine was facing three large gorillas. Each had a sizable metal bar in their hands which they appeared to be using to set up a barricade across the corridor.

Sofia hesitated for the briefest of seconds. The Bar’samin didn’t appear to be armed. She couldn’t let them set up barricades, though. She had to get to the reactors before the Bar’samin engineers sabotaged or even self-destructed them. “Take them out!” she ordered.

As the marine sighted his plasma rifle on the nearest alien, a roar erupted from one of the others. Even as the marine opened fire, the other two dropped what they were holding and charged. Their speed caught Sofia by surprise. If it wasn’t for the other marines from the fire team opening fire as well, one of the Bar’samin would have got close enough to swing one of its large fists at the marine on point. Sofia wasn’t sure what damage such a strike would do to a marine’s combat armor, but at the very least, it would shake the wearer up.

“Keep moving,” she ordered her lead fire team. When she got to the Bar’samin bodies, she bent down to study one briefly. The plasma bolts had burnt through their muscled chests with ease. She felt bad about killing unarmed sentients. But, they did charge us, she thought. And they have even more muscles up close. Sofia couldn’t tell just how strong a Bar’samin would be. But, she was sure she wouldn’t like to go up against one in a sparring ring without her augments.

Sixty seconds later, and First Fire Team came up against another barricade. This time, Sofia’s nanite drones spotted it just before they reached it. “Four bogies behind the barricade,” Sofia told her marines. “They are armed and armored.”

When First Fire Team’s lead marine poked his head around the corner to get a look at the barricade, he was met with a hail of fire. “Laser rifles,” he reported. “They are well dug in.”

“Shall we grenade them and charge?” First Fire Team’s sergeant asked.

“Do it,” Sofia replied. “But, make sure you blow that barricade apart before attacking.” On the feed from her drone, the barricade looked pretty secure. She didn’t want her marines charging, only to find themselves unable to break through. They’d be sitting ducks then.

“Grenades out!” The Sergeant called as he and one other marine hurled high explosive grenades down the corridor. To Sofia’s surprise, both grenades stopped halfway towards their targets. They hovered in the air for a second, and then fell to the floor before detonating. Their explosive force washed over the barricade, but did little damage to it.

“What was that?” the Sergeant asked.

“A magnetic field?” a marine suggested.

“Possibly,” Sofia responded. It wasn’t something she had come across before, but it made sense. We need a way around, she thought to herself as she widened the map of the station on her HUD. What she saw made her tense. The Bar’samin had miniature drones of their own, and they were fighting back against her drones, taking them out to prevent her from seeing what was going on in parts of the station. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was a problem. Something else caught her attention as well. There was a growing blacked out area not far from her position. The area was the perfect spot from which to launch a flanking maneuver against her force as it attacked the Bar’samin barricade.

“First Fire Team, keep that barricade busy, everyone else, with me,” Sofia said. “We are moving right. Possible flanking attack incoming. Let’s see if we can prepare them a warm welcome.”

As she led her marines right, Sofia selected what looked like a large oval intersection where five corridors met. The Bar’samin attack would have to come through it if they were coming from where she thought they would. “That’s where we’ll hit them,” she instructed her marines. “Second Fire Team, take the western corridor, stay well back out of sight. Third Fire Team, take the southwest one, open fire on them once their lead elements are in the open area. Fourth Fire Team, with me, we’ll take up positions down the south corridor and catch them in a crossfire. Second Fire Team, wait for my signal to attack.”

Getting into position, Sofia took a deep breath and prepared herself. She could watch the progress of the oncoming attack as more and more of the northern corridor leading to the open area blacked out on her HUD. The Bar’samin were taking out her drones as they came.

Thirty seconds later, the first Bar’samin soldier came into view. Very cautiously, he poked his head out of the northern corridor and into the large intersection. Right away, Sofia could see he was wearing some kind of armor. It didn’t look like a fully powered combat armor like she was encased in, but it looked impressive, nonetheless. “Wait,” she told her marines as the soldier moved into the intersection. He was followed by one and then several more Bar’samin. When the number rose to eight and the lead enemy was just about to enter the corridor she was hiding down, Sofia gave the order to attack. “Now!” she shouted.

Jumping out from the turn she was hiding behind, she opened fire on the lead Bar’samin. Her fast reflexes allowed her to get the drop on him. Three plasma bolts burnt into his chest even as he raised his weapon. The first two splashed across his armor, but the third penetrated, flinging him back before he could fire.

Sofia ducked down to throw off anyone trying to target her as she sought out a new target. The intersection was already filled with plasma bolts as marines took out as many of the Bar’samin as they could. The enemy soldiers were no slouches, however, as soon as they came under fire from two of the corridors, they rushed for cover. With the intersection being a large rectangle, they were able to hug its outer walls to avoid the firing lanes Sofia and her two firing teams had on them. Within seconds, muzzles poked down both corridors and began to blindly fire down them.

“Back!” Sofia ordered, as she moved around the turn in the corridor for cover. “Grenades,” she said as she hurled two of her own back down the corridor. “Second Fire Team,” she shouted as the grenades started exploding.

Charging out of the western corridor, Second Fire Team came out right behind the remaining five Bar’samin soldiers. Plasma rifles began to spit their deadly hot bolts before the Bar’samin knew what was going on. Two managed to turn and get shots off. One hit a marine in the face, the other missed. Both Bar’samin were dead before they could fire another shot.

“Section clear,” Second Fire Team’s Sergeant called out. “One casualty. McMillan has been hit.”

Sofia sprinted into the intersection. It only took one look at McMillan to know he was hurt badly. Nearly half of his facial armor was melted. Second Fire Team’s Sergeant was knelt over him. “What’s his status?” Sofia asked, afraid of what she was going to hear.

“He’s alive,” the Sergeant said as he looked up at Sofia. “But he’s unconscious, his armor knocked him out.”

“Private Dublin, get him back to the shuttle ASAP,” Sofia ordered, knowing she had to put the mission first. “Fire Teams Three and Four, we keep advancing. We’re going to flank their barricade, and then move on the reactor compartment.”

As she moved forward, Sofia released a second smaller wave of nanite drones to try and regain a better picture of their line of advance. Then, taking the western corridor that led away from the intersection, she followed Third Fire Team as they took point. Within thirty seconds, the sound of the ongoing firefight between the Bar’samin defenders and First Fire Team began to reach them. “Coming up on the barricade’s flank,” Sofia informed First Fire Team’s Sergeant. “Hold your fire on my command.”

“Roger,” First Fire team’s Sergeant replied.

“Hold,” Sofia ordered Third Fire Team while she allowed the other marines behind her to catch up. “Alright, take them,” she said seconds later. “First Fire Team, cease fire.”

The next few seconds passed in a flash for Sofia. This time, she watched Third Fire Team’s marines through her HUD as they charged down the corridor to attack the Bar’samin in the rear. The attack was only partially successful. Three of the four enemy soldiers were peering through their barricade towards First Fire Team’s position, waiting to pounce on them when they tried to fire again. The fourth had turned, suspecting something was up.

Seeing the charging marines, he fired off a number of laser beams towards them. One marine was hit whilst the rest dove to the ground. A quickly hurled grenade and follow up plasma bolts killed the Bar’samin, but his comrades had been alerted to the new danger. An intense fire fight ensued as the marines of Fourth Fire Team joined the assault. In the space of twenty seconds, it was over. Two marines were down, thankfully both having suffered only grazing hits. All four Bar’samin were killed.

Sofia checked both injured marines to make sure they would be ok left where they were, then ordered the remainder of her force to push forward as fast as possible. In the space of two minutes, they came across two more barricades being set up. Both were assaulted before they could be finished. Neither was defended by soldiers, but by what looked like armed crewmembers. Then, Third Fire Team made it to one of the hatches to the reactor compartment. Sofia was thankful they hadn’t met any more soldiers, for she wasn’t sure she had enough marines left to force her way past more of them.

“All right, propellant guns out,” she ordered as her demolition marine set a miniature charge onto the hatch. Their plasma rifles risked damaging one of the reactors or even causing a meltdown. “And accept anyone who surrenders, we may need them to run the systems when this is over.”

“Understood, Lieutenant,” Third Fire Team’s Sergeant said as the marines put their plasma rifles over their backs and pulled out their propellant pistols.

Sofia did the same, and then checked her magazine. She had twenty rounds before she’d have to reload. She hoped that would be enough. “Sergeant Armitage, you take point. I’ll be right behind you. Go right, I’ll go left.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Armitage replied.

Sofia readied herself, then nodded to the demolition marine. The small explosion almost didn’t make a sound as her combat armor protected her hearing from it. Even so, slowly the hatch fell inwards, a combat armored Human-sized hole melted into it. Without hesitation, Sofia’s two squads rushed through. Having already got a good visual of the compartment from her drones before they had been destroyed, Sofia knew what to expect. The large chamber was dominated by three huge half-sphere reactors that stretched up twenty meters to the roof. Around them, four levels of walkways had been constructed to allow engineers to access every part of each reactor. Several command stations with a bunch of consoles ringed the outside of the compartment.

The first things that caught Sofia’s eyes were the Bar’samin soldiers that were spread out throughout the compartment. Their armor made them stand out from the other Bar’samin. Several were looking her way, or in the process of turning towards the explosion. In the blink of an eye, Sofia raised her pistol and fired off six rounds towards the nearest Bar’samin even as she ran towards a console to take cover. The first three rounds struck the soldier’s chest, but seemed to have little impact, so she switched and hammered the final three into his face. A spurt of blood as the soldier fell backwards told her at least one had penetrated.

By the time she reached the console, a deadly firefight had broken out. Bar’samin soldiers charged towards the hatch the marines were coming in through, while the marines moved to cover and began to advance into the compartment. Sofia downed two more soldiers before she had to duck down again to reload. When she popped up to fire, a hairy hand grabbed her muzzle and yanked on it. The force of the pull slammed Sofia into the console she was using as cover, but she didn’t let go. Realizing it was one of the unarmored Bar’samin, she swore. The station’s crew were fighting, too!

With a roar, the Bar’samin yanked on her pistol once again. This time, Sofia let go, causing the Bar’samin to fall backwards. Instantly, Sofia thrust herself forward and brought an armored fist crashing down into the Bar’samin’s skull. Her hand bounced off as if she had punched a block of valstronium armor. The Bar’samin let out a higher pitched growl, suggesting it had been hurt. Even so, it dropped Sofia’s pistol and wrapped its arms around her torso. At once, it began to squeeze. Alarms began to blare in Sofia’s ears as her combat armor protested and the readout from her armor on her HUD began to flash, warning her armor was close to losing integrity. For a split second, fear engulfed Sofia, never had she imagined the aliens would have the strength to crush her armor!

The fear came and went in a flash however, for her training kicked in. Reaching down and around the Bar’samin’s arms, she pulled her nano-carbon knife from its sheath. Hundreds of hours of training with her father allowed her to slam the tip of the knife into the side of the alien’s skull right where a human temple was. Whether the alien had a similar weakness, Sofia didn’t know, but the pressure on her armor ceased at once.

With a grunt, she threw the alien off her and reached down for her pistol. “Don’t let any of them get close to you!” she warned her marines. “Kill the crew if they won’t surrender.” Scanning the battle, Sofia found the nearest target and let loose, killing another Bar’samin soldier who had a marine pinned down. As she looked for another target, it seemed that all the enemy soldiers had been killed. The marines were on the verge of taking about half of the compartment and had found enough cover to lay down fire to protect one another.

The remaining Bar’samin crew came to the same realization. Almost as one, they let out a loud battle cry. Jumping from cover and the consoles they had been working at, they charged. Sofia’s hands worked faster than they ever had before. It took ten frantically fired bullets to fell the nearest charging Bar’samin, and another six more controlled shots to take out the next. She fired off four more shots that didn’t stop their target, then dropped the mag from her pistol even as her other hand snapped up with another one. She just got the mag in, and her muzzle back onto the third Bar’samin in time to slam two more bullets into it before it crashed into her and toppled her over. The weight of the alien’s body falling on her damaged armor knocked the wind from her.

“Lieutenant, are you ok?” Sergeant Armitage shouted over the din of weapons fire. “Lieutenant,” he repeated as the fire diminished.

With a grunt, Sofia heaved the body off her chest. She looked up to find Armitage holding out a hand to her. She gladly took it. “My armor is banged up, but I’m ok,” she answered as she jumped to her feet and scanned the reactor compartment. Dead Bar’samin littered the floor, but there was no sign of any more resistance.

“They all charged,” Armitage said. “None were willing to surrender.”

Sofia shook her head at the carnage. It was shocking. Yet, she didn’t lose sight of her mission. “Check the bodies to make sure they are really dead,” she ordered. “Then secure all the hatches in here. We have to hold until the rest of the station is secure.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Armitage replied.

“And what of our own people?” she asked as she turned back towards the hatch they had charged towards. Her heart sank when she saw one marine lying on the floor not moving.

A marine that was leaning over the body looked up. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, Hector is gone. He took three beams to the chest.”

Sofia cursed. “See that he is properly looked after,” she ordered, not knowing what else to say. “Are there any other injuries?”

Miraculously, as each fire team reported in, there were not. Though Sofia wanted to go to Hector’s body and check on him herself, she instead forced herself to survey the reactors to make sure there wasn’t any obvious damage. She had to stay focused on her mission. When she was happy they weren’t going to detonate on them, she switched her COM channel. “Major, we have the reactor compartment. We’re securing it now.”

“Understood, Lieutenant, good work. We’re still mopping up some pockets of resistance, but the station should be pacified in the next three or four minutes. Stay put and I’ll get back to you,” Gomez replied.

“Yes Major,” Sofia replied as she let out a slow breath. She had accomplished her mission. The injuries her marines had suffered were far from ideal, and losing Hector was a blow that she already knew would haunt her, but given how well the Bar’samin had fought, she was proud of how she and her marines had fought.

Chapter 12

After the Karacknid Wars, it was thought the role of the Imperial Marines would gradually fade. The arrival of the Antarians changed that in an instant.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident

“I’ve just heard from Major Gomez,” Lieutenant Rodgers reported from his COM console. “The gas mining station has been secured. All its systems appear to be intact.”

“Excellent,” Becket said as she turned her gaze from the Bar’samin gas mining station to Ulan’nagn itself. With the gas mining station captured, it was now worth her while to also capture the planet’s orbital storage infrastructure. “We shall begin plan Alpha Two.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Albright responded. “Moving the fleet now.”

With the Protectorate fleet destroyed or surrendered, Becket’s undamaged ships, numbering eight hundred, moved towards Ulan’nagn. Opposing them were the Bar’samin’s seventy warships, twenty-two Bar’samin orbital defense stations, and four partially completed Protectorate battlestations. Twelve Protectorate warships and what looked to be twelve of their fighters were also in orbit. Compared to the offensive power of Becket’s ships, they posed no threat. Still, as her ships approached, Becket was surprised to see the Bar’samin showed no signs of surrendering. Given she had accepted the surrender of the Protectorate warships from their fleet, the Bar’samin knew doing the same was an option. Clearly, they had no intention of availing themselves of such an option.

Entering into high orbit around Ulan’nagn, Becket’s fleet slowly descended to their maximum range with their mark VII missiles. Then, they began to unleash volley after volley. The Protectorate ships and battlestations were able to return fire with their own long-range missiles, but doing so was pointless. The Lancer frigates and fighters Albright deployed forward took them out before they could reach the main Allied Fleet.

Realizing they would have to break orbit to be able to fire their own missiles, the Bar’samin ships charged. They were too late, however. The first salvo of mark VII’s was specifically targeted at them. Hundreds of antimatter warheads detonated. When the antimatter blooms dissipated, not a single molecule from any of the Bar’samin ships remained. The second salvo of Imperial missiles took out all of the Bar’samin defense stations. The third focused on the Protectorate ships and battlestations. Before the fourth left their tubes, the two remaining Protectorate warships and the twenty freighters they had in orbit began to transmit surrender messages.

“Hold fire,” Becket said quickly. “Inform those ships we accept their surrender. They are to move away from Ulan’nagn at ten percent thrust until we can land marines on board to secure them.”

“Transmitting your instructions now,” Rodgers replied. “They have all accepted,” he updated them a minute later.

As he spoke, the Protectorate ships all began to break orbit and leave the world of their allies unprotected. Becket held her breath. Many of the Bar’samin orbital stations still remaining had point defense lasers, and possibly even a missile tube or two. If they fired on the Protectorate freighters, they could destroy several of them. She slowly let out her breath as seconds turned into minutes, and nothing happened. “Open a systemwide COM channel,” Becket requested, deciding it was worth trying to talk to the Bar’samin now.

“Channel open, Admiral,” Rodgers informed her.

“Bar’samin Representatives, you chose to ally yourselves with the Eaglaton Protectorate and so joined yourselves to them in their war of aggression against us. Now, your warfleet has paid the price. However, no more blood need be shed today. Surrender your orbital facilities to us, and we can end this battle. No more of my, nor your people need to die. I have no desire to conquer your planet or occupy it. All we desire are your orbital facilities. Surrender them, and I will leave you to live on your planet’s surface in peace. In time, we may even come to trade with one another. I will give you twenty minutes to consider my offer.”

Not expecting a quick reply, Becket busied herself with overseeing the surrender of the Protectorate ships. As quickly as her command staff could, they raced shuttles full of marines and computer technicians out to them. If they could, Becket desperately wanted to get her hands on a Protectorate computer core. Once again, however, she was disappointed. Reports soon came in to inform her every core on every warship and freighter had been purged.

“None after the Battle of the Gift, and now, none here,” Goodwin said from his Captain’s command chair. “We’re not having any luck.”

“Or the Protectorates know what they are doing,” Becket countered. “They’ve been preparing for this war with us for some time. No doubt they anticipated some of their ships having to surrender or being captured.”

Godwin nodded. “I expect so, still, it would be nice to catch a break. They can’t be perfect every time.”

“Another day, perhaps,” Becket replied. She turned to check the timer that had started when she had sent her message to the Bar’samin Representatives. There were just thirty seconds left. “Something tells me they are not going to respond.”

“Maybe we could get one of the Protectorates to talk to them?” Albright suggested. “The Captain of the light cruiser that surrendered is the most senior prisoner we have.”

Becket considered it for a moment. Maybe if they captured a Commodore or Rear Admiral it would have been worth trying. The Representatives had probably spoken to the senior Protectorate commanders, but a lowly Captain? If they hadn’t spoken to her already, she doubted a Captain of one of the ships that had surrendered rather than die fighting to protect their planet would change anything. She shook her head towards Albright as the timer reached zero. “They’ve had their chance. Inform General Kurowski we will begin our attack in five minutes.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Albright responded.

Five minutes later, Trident altered course once again. Leading the Allied fleet closer to Ulan’nagn, Becket’s warships came into range with their mark VIII missiles. Just a single half-strength salvo was fired. Many of the Bar’samin orbital stations had been built with point defense weapons. Yet, compared to a proper battlestation, their fire was pitiful. All but a handful of the missiles accelerated into attack range and detonated. Thousands of laser beams were hurled into the stations. Hundreds were torn apart or melted to slag. However, almost as many remained intact. Orbital gas storage stations, fleet supply hubs, and construction yards were spared.

Just behind the missiles, a swarm of fighters and shuttles raced into the confusion. Using the explosions and debris from the dying stations as cover, they attacked the remaining stations. Copying Rogue squadron’s tactics, the fighters blasted away the limited point defense weapons that remained. Then, shuttles began to land marines on all the stations. Over three thousand of the combat armor-clad warriors fought for control of the Bar’samin-built orbital industry. In the space of twenty minutes, almost two hundred were killed or seriously wounded. Many of the deaths came from one station whose crew decided to self-destruct it, rather than see it fall into Human hands. But in the end, almost every one of the stations Becket had wanted captured fell to General Kurowski’s forces.

“General Kurowski has sent another report to us,” Albright informed Becket, as she and her bridge officers watched the live feed from one of the assaults. Even though they had been warned about what to expect from the attack on the gas mining station, they had all been shocked by the ferocity of the Bar’samins’ defense. “The last station has been secured.”

Becket felt a weight slide from her shoulders. The Bar’samin were a fierce enemy. Their soldiers and civilian crew alike fought to the death. She felt the loss of the marines who had been killed, some even ripped apart by muscled Bar’samin warriors. But despite the losses, the attack had been worth it. The gas storage facilities would allow her tankers to refill their tanks, and with just a little retooling, the supply hubs and construction yards could be adapted to work with Allied shipping. She had captured herself a forward supply base right on the doorstep of Protectorate space. One we are going to take full advantage of, Becket was sure. However, before she could begin to do that, there was still much to do. She had to help her ships that had been damaged after the battle, organize teams to take control of the captured ships and stations, and deal with Ulan’nagn.

“What is happening on the planet’s surface?” Becket asked after nodding to Albright to acknowledge General Kurowski’s report.

“It looks like they are assembling a number of armies near several of their major cities,” Albright answered. “They have hundreds of ground-based sensors tracking us, but no sign of any ground-based anti-space weaponry.”

“That is at least something, though don’t let your guard down,” Becket cautioned. “There’s no way we’re landing any of our marines down there. It would be a bloodbath. They can maneuver their armies around as much as they want. But, if it looks like they are preparing any weapons to hit the orbital stations or our ships, don’t hesitate to take them out. Use our plasma cannons if you can, but if needs be, tungsten spears are permitted.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” Albright replied.

Becket hated the idea of bombarding a sentient species’ world with tungsten spears. The larger ones Trident carried could level a square kilometer. But, the Bar’samin had chosen their bed, now they had to lie in it. If you just leave us alone, we will do the same, she thought towards their Representatives. Thankfully, Ulan’nagn was the Bar’samins’ only world, which meant they didn’t rely on any foodstuff or other imports. She could simply ignore the world below her and they wouldn’t take any further hurt. Now, on to the one hundred other problems we have, she thought to herself as she turned her mind to her damaged ships and her fleet’s needs.

*

For the next four days, Becket felt like she hardly got any sleep. Though she had excellent staff officers and very experienced senior commanders, the work of securing the Bar’samins’ system seemed never ending. Not once over the four days did the Bar’samin Representatives attempt to contact the Allied fleet. Nor, however, did they launch any ground-based weapons at Becket’s ships. It seemed they were content with the status quo, for now at least.

Just an hour after Becket managed to find some time to herself to sit and think through what she wanted to do next with her fleet, Lieutenant Rodgers interrupted her. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Admiral,” her COMs officer said over the COM unit in Becket’s office. “But the frigate Scimitar has just arrived from Commodore Magnuson’s squadron. It has a report from Captain Somerville, the frigate has come from the Dudllias system.”

“The Dudllias system?” Becket said, her voice full of surprise.

“Yes, Admiral, I’ve sent the report to you already,” Rodgers replied.

“Alright, thank you,” Becket said as she racked her brain to remember Commodore Magnuson’s orders. He had been tasked with screening the extreme left end of her line of advance. His ships are supposed to be heading more towards Bastion than Dudllias, what is Somerville doing there? Given how much trouble Somerville tended to get himself into, Becket was sure the report was going to make for interesting reading.

With a tap on her desk, she pulled up the report. Typing in her passcode, she unlocked its contents. As she began to read, her eyes widened, and her eyebrows rose at what Somerville had to say. The more she read, the higher her eyebrows went. Five minutes later, she tapped her COM unit again. “Rodgers, contact Albright, I want a senior Commanders’ conference in my office in half an hour, or sooner if possible.”

“Right away, Ma’am,” Rodgers acknowledged.

Resetting the report back to its beginning, Becket read through it once more. Then, she sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and visualized the information Somerville had sent through. He certainly hadn’t disappointed in the interesting department. The question was, how was she going to make use of everything he had discovered? Ten minutes later, and a small smile played across her lips. A picture had come to her. She had left the Gift with the intention of being aggressive, Somerville’s intelligence gave her the chance to up the ante even more. It would depend a lot on how Lvant reacted, but given that he had so easily abandoned Ulan’nagn, she was starting to think he wasn’t the decisive commander she had first thought. At least, when he was put on the defensive, he wasn’t.

The same smile was still on Becket’s lips as Albright led Captain Godwin, Admiral Shraw and Rear Admirals Salamanca and Davenport into her office. “Something is up, isn’t it?” Salamanca asked right away. “I know that look, and it usually doesn’t mean anything good for your enemies.”

“Sit down and I’ll explain,” Becket said with a grin as she gestured to one of the chairs arrayed around her desk. “First,” she continued when they were all in their seats. “We have captured the Dudllias system.” She smiled at the reactions from each of her senior commanders, especially Salamanca’s.

His face went red. “Who took their ships there! They broke my word to the Dudl’lons.”

Becket held up a cautionary hand. “I’d be careful before getting too angry with the officer,” she said as she couldn’t help grinning. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of your future Emperor, do you?”

Salamanca frowned, then his face turned redder. “I’m going to have words with that young man. He’s worse than his father was! He thinks he can get away with anything.”

“On that count, I’m afraid you are wrong, my friend,” Becket replied. “Don’t forget, you only knew him as an Admiral; I knew him when he took command of his first ship. Believe it or not, but our Emperor was even more rash. If anything, I think growing up in the palace has tempered Somerville’s hot-headedness. His mother probably has something to do with that.

“But either way,” Becket continued, “he had good reason to act. Somerville’s flotilla encountered a Protectorate scout that fled towards the Dudllias system. They followed, but kept their distance so as not to break your word. When they got there, however, they found a Protectorate force had already conquered the system. They controlled the orbitals and had begun rebuilding their own gas mining station. It looks like Lvant wanted to build up the system as a second forward operating base. Somerville drove off a Protectorate force twice his size, and managed to capture the mining station intact. It appears we now have the opportunity to develop the system for our own use.”

Davenport let out a soft whistle. “That boy doesn’t do things by half. How many ships did he lose?”

“Just one frigate, and he took out a medium and light cruiser, as well as a frigate and captured two destroyers,” Becket answered.

Davenport let out a louder whistle as she looked around at her fellow commanders. Shraw lifted a clawed hand into the air. “It seems your heir is living up to his father’s reputation. That would be impressive for any one of us to pull off, never mind for a Captain inexperienced in fleet combat.”

“Indeed,” Becket agreed. “I’ve already recommended him for a commendation. But so far, I haven’t even told you the half of it.”

“There’s more?” Davenport asked, her eyebrows rising as Becket’s had done half an hour before.

“There certainly is” Becket confirmed. “Somerville has sent word to Commodore Magnuson of everything as well as to us. He has requested Magnuson bring all his ships to Dudllias to bolster the system’s defenses. He fears the Protectorates may come back to try and retake the system. Though our victory here makes that less likely, he may still be right. But even if the Protectorates in the vicinity are in full retreat, we’ll have to send a full squadron with supply freighters to reinforce him and build up the system, for the Dudl’lons have requested they be admitted into the Empire. And acting as the Imperial heir, Somerville has granted them associate status until their request has been assessed by the Imperial Senate.”

Once again, shock and surprise passed across the faces of all of Becket’s officers. Salamanca was the first to find his voice. “It has to be a ruse on King Krilim’s part, surely it has to be? After I paid them to destroy their mining facilities, they never wanted to see another Human ship again!”

“It may be Krilim thinks gaining associate status will force us to protect them,” Becket said. “Somerville thinks that may be the case. But, given that their world was just conquered and there was nothing the Dudl’lon people could do about it, it may be a genuine offer. Either way, Somerville thinks that now that he has begun down this path, Krilim will struggle to turn around any time soon.” Becket shrugged her shoulders, “Whether it is a ruse or not though, we now have a responsibility to protect them.”

“This is quite the dramatic turn of events,” Shraw said. “I knew your neighbors, the Vestarians, were in the process of joining your Empire, but I did not know other species could do so as well.”

“I wasn’t sure they could either,” Davenport said. “But, I guess Somerville knows more than us.”

“Or perhaps he doesn’t,” Becket guessed. “But now that he has made this decision, it will be hard for his parents to go back on it.”

“Dramatic or not,” Shraw said slowly. “What I’m sure we’re really all here to discuss, is how does this change the strategic situation.”

Becket nodded. “In part, yes that is why I called you all right here. But more than that, this is why.” Tapping her desk, Becket projected a new star map in front of everyone. It was immediately recognizable, for at its center were the Dudllias and Ulan’nagn systems, with the Gift and Bastion to the galactic North and West. Yet, the map was littered with nearly a hundred new systems none of the other commanders had seen before.

They were all focused to the east of Ulan’nagn. Where Allied maps had contained just a handful of systems Somerville had previously discovered that led to the Rasmorse world of Farvul’vian. Now the fleet base from which Lvant had launched his invasion was surrounded by other worlds. Nearly seventy Rasmorse worlds were now mapped out, along with another thirty that belonged to the Tolodons, the second member of the Eaglaton Protectorate Humanity had met. Their worlds were to the east of Rasmorse space.

This time, Becket’s revelation was met with silence. For nearly a minute, the commanders simply stared at the map, mouths open, as they took in all the new systems. Becket was happy for them to start to digest the new information. “How? Where?” Salamanca eventually asked.

“Remember Somerville captured two damaged Protectorate destroyers?” she asked. “Well, his technicians managed to retrieve a damaged data core, one that was missed by the Protectorate crew as they were purging their system. There wasn’t much data the Kulrean decryption software could take from the core, but we got lucky. This is most of it.”

Shraw shook his head and lifted his upper lip to show his razor-sharp teeth. “This enemy is greater than we feared. There are more inhabited systems on this map than we have ourselves between the five Conclave species. Yet, we don’t even know if we are looking at half of Rasmorse and Tolodon territory, or just a tenth of it.”

“Never mind how many other members of the Eaglaton Protectorate there are,” Salamanca added. “Or the Eaglatons themselves. If they are the dominant species, they have to have a great deal many more systems.”

“This intelligence is daunting,” Becket agreed. “But whether large or small, we cannot change how powerful the Eaglaton Protectorate truly is. What we can do, is try to bring this war to a swift end. If the Protectorates had thousands of more ships on their borders, we have to assume we would have seen them deployed against us. Given that Lvant has seemingly retreated all the way back to Rasmorse space, it suggests he doesn’t have the ships to resume the offensive. That means we have the initiative, and now, with this intelligence, the means to make best use of it.”

With another tap on her desk’s console, Becket zoomed in the image. One system by the name of Genese on the western border of Rasmorse space began to flash. “This system is of particular interest, I believe. It is to the south of Farvul’vian, and so it may not be too heavily defended. Certainly, once Lvant learns of our capture of Ulan’nagn, he has to expect we might make a move against his fleet base. If we however strike at Genese, look at the invasion paths that would be open to us. We could potentially push much deeper into the Rasmorse southern worlds, and even towards their capital.”

“There is no way we would have the logistics to make such a push. Even holding Genese, if we could capture it, would be a stretch,” Davenport said as she imagined the long snaking supply route that would be needed from Ulan’nagn to Genese. “But, Lvant wouldn’t necessarily know that,” she added as she caught the gleam in Becket’s eye.

“No, indeed not,” Becket agreed.

“And if they are unprepared for such an attack, they would have to rush many of their frontline forces from in and around Farvul’vian south to cover their core worlds,” Shraw added, grasping Becket’s plan.

Becket nodded. “Which would open the way for us to take several systems we would have a better chance of holding.” Again, she changed the image of the holo display to zoom in on Farvul’vian and the surrounding systems. “Since this war began, the Protectorates have been operating with a great deal more intelligence on us than we have had on them. Now, the tables are beginning to turn. They don’t know we know about any of these systems. If we can take them quickly, then maybe we can convince them to bring this needless war to an end.”

“I like it,” Shraw said as he showed his teeth again. “Striking one’s prey right in the heart is the surest way to a swift kill. And if we can threaten their core worlds, it will relieve the pressure on my people’s defenses.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Becket replied. Just two days ago, they had received their first reports from Conclave space, confirming what she and Shraw had suspected for several weeks. Two Protectorate fleets had been operating against the Conclave border fleets, presumably with the aim to keep them from reinforcing Bastion while Lvant had laid siege to the system. They were now a threat on the left flank of Becket’s attack. But, if they heard she was moving against the Rasmorse homeworld, they would have to fall back to reinforce Lvant.

Salamanca nodded. “It is a bold plan. But, no bolder than what we have been planning all along. We will need to push out even more screening forces to mask our true targets, but I believe we can do it.”

“We will be heavily dependent on further reinforcements from Earth,” Davenport pointed out. “If they do not come, we will be left high and dry.”

Becket looked each of her commanders in the eye. “We would. We could be surrounded and cut off. But, Emperor Somerville knows my general plan, even if he can’t know the specifics of what we are now proposing to attempt. He will have our back. The reinforcements will come.” Each officer nodded. They all had complete trust in the man they still thought of as their Admiral. Becket smiled at her friends. “Then, we have a plan. Let’s be about it. There is much to prepare. And there is much for our forward squadrons need to do if we are going to be able to pull this off.”

Chapter 13

Joining the Empire is not an easy process for an alien civilization. There are many checks that must be carried out and hurdles the applicant must overcome to ensure their world and culture truly meet the standards of the Empire.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, Dudllias system, 11th March 2510 AD, (two weeks later).

“Contact alert!” Lieutenant Abrahams called out, causing everyone on Kestrel’s bridge to turn towards him.

Jonathan had been sitting in his command chair, idly reading through some of the requests for investment King Krilim and his advisors had sent to him to be passed on to Earth. “Where?” he asked as his heart rate increased and he set the datapad down.

“The Lanfear system shift passage,” Abrahams answered. “One of the stealth drones we have deployed out there has picked up over one hundred ships exiting shift space.”

Jonathan sat up immediately. The Lanfear shift passage led towards the Ulan’nagn system. If the Protectorates had a fleet based there, they could be reinforcements. Or, if Becket has attacked the system, these could be the survivors retreating. “Send the report to Magnuson at once,” he ordered. Since the Commodore had joined him at Dudllias eight days ago, he had taken over the day-to-day operations of the squadron’s ships. “And call all senior officers to the bridge.”

“Picking up the contacts on the gravimetric sensors now,” Lieutenant Artex reported before anyone could confirm Jonathan’s orders. “They are coming into the system. Straight for us. Ninety-four confirmed contacts.”

Jonathan held his breath as Kestrel’s computer tried to identify them. Ninety-four was far more than Magnuson’s eight ships could handle. We’ll have to retreat if they are enemies, Jonathan feared. King Krilim, or at least some of his advisors, would throw a fit if they fled the system so soon after liberating it.

In seconds, his fear evaporated, however. Quicker than Jonathan had been expecting, ID tags began to appear beside many of the ships. Kestrel’s computer had seen them before. One of the dreadnoughts at the center of the formation caught Jonathan’s eye. Zeus was Rear Admiral Davenport’s flagship. The newcomers were reinforcements!

“That’s a lot of ships,” Artex said. “Becket must want to make sure the Protectorates can’t retake the system.”

“Or she has something more planned,” Jonathan suspected. The only way Becket would have detached so many ships from her main fleet was if Ulan’nagn had already fallen to her forces. Davenport is here to begin the next part of Becket’s plan, whatever that might be, Jonathan guessed. And hopefully, this time, we can be a part of it, he thought as he remembered Davenport’s last words to him. He had been given an easy patrol route to give himself time to train up his crew. They had failed in their first real test, but their victory over the Protectorate forces occupying Dudllias had shown they were now ready.

As the fleet came closer over the next hour, Jonathan’s suspicions became stronger. It was clear Davenport’s fleet was a powerful one. With five dreadnoughts, eleven battleships and thirty other capital ships, it was a force to be reckoned with. Almost as telling were the many freighters that accompanied the Imperial squadron. Some looked to be bulk freighters, possibly carrying the materials the Dudl’lons might need to begin rebuilding their orbital industries, but the vast majority were fuel tankers. Whatever Becket wanted them to do next, it looked like it was going to require them to cover a lot of distance. That got Jonathan even more excited, for that was just what Kestrel was designed to do.

Not long after Zeus settled into orbit and a flurry of messages were sent back-and-forth between Zeus and Viking, a message was sent to Kestrel. “Captain, Rear Admiral Davenport is holding a captains’ conference on board Zeus in thirty minutes, all Captains are requested to report on board,” Abrahams informed Jonathan.

“Acknowledg the request,” Jonathan responded. Standing, he stretched and nodded to Cortez “You have the bridge, I guess I better go and put on a fresh uniform.”

“Yes, sir,” Cortez responded. “We look forward to your return. Hopefully with some new orders.”

“I hope so too,” Jonathan said, smiling at his officers as he walked past them. Over the last two weeks, the excitement at winning such a victory over the Protectorates had been fading from Kestrel’s bridge. Now, it was quickly building again. Everyone was as keen as Jonathan to get back into the action.

Unsurprisingly, when Jonathan got to his quarters, Heaton had a crisp uniform laid out for him. Within a minute, his steward had him dressed and ready to go. “Looking smart, Captain,” Heaton said as he brushed some dust off Jonathan’s shoulder.

‘It’s just a captains’ conference,’ Jonathan wanted to say, but he knew how Heaton would respond, just as his mother would want him to. ‘The Imperial Heir should always dress to make an impression.’ “Thank you,” Jonathan said to Heaton instead. “I don’t know how long we’ll be, so you can hold off on preparing lunch for now.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll have something ready for you when you get back,” Heaton promised.

As Jonathan walked out of his quarters, Becca was standing waiting for him. She too was in a freshly ironed Imperial Guard uniform. He nodded to her, and then in silence, they walked to one of Kestrel’s hangers and then onto the shuttle that took them to Zeus. When they landed, a Lieutenant showed them to the dreadnought’s main briefing room. As Jonathan stepped in and looked around, a hand was raised and waved him over. Jonathan smiled when he saw Wasp and Unicorn’s Captains had saved him a seat. They were the first Captains he had really had a chance to get to know since being promoted to captain himself. In both, he had found kindred spirits. From the anticipation on both their faces, Jonathan guessed they were hoping for new orders as well.

“What do you think?” Henning, Wasp’s Captain asked as Jonathan sat beside her. “Davenport didn’t bring all these ships here just to protect Dudllias, did she?”

“Not unless Becket has decided to ease up on her plans to strike at Rasmorse space,” Jonathan replied. “And not once in all the years I’ve known her have I ever seen her pull back from a fight.”

Souness clapped his hands together. “Excellent, my Unicorns were getting restless. The first trip down to Krilim’s city is mesmerizing. But after three or four times, the novelty of spending so long underwater starts to wear off.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure he agreed. He had enjoyed each of the several trips he had taken to Krilim’s palace. Yet, he knew many of the crew from Magnuson’s squadron had turned to spending their R&R time on one of the small islands in the planet’s southern hemisphere. It had a long yellow sandy beach, and the water was much warmer than in and around the island the Protectorates had built their base upon.

As Jonathan looked around the other gathered Captains and squadron commanders, he saw several faces he recognized. Most nodded or raised a hand to him. Commodore Magnuson sat with three other Captains from his squadron. Jonathan’s immediate commander gave him a wink when their eyes met. Things in Dudllias had worked out even better than either had expected when they had initially talked about the possibility of flaunting Rear Admiral Salamanca’s promise to the Dudl’lons.

Despite the excitement in the room, as he kept looking around, a tinge of sadness touched Jonathan. For it hit him why his eyes were still searching. He was looking for Captain Willock. Yet, Greyhound’s Captain had died with his frigate. Jonathan couldn’t help but feel responsible. Willock and Greyhound had been lost under his watch. And many more faces may soon be missing if we are to continue the advance, Jonathan couldn’t help but think.

A moment later, silence descended on the room. Rear Admiral Davenport had entered with her Chief of Staff. From the look on her face, Jonathan knew right away that Davenport hadn’t come to Dudllias simply to bolster the system’s garrison. She meant business.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Davenport said as soon as she reached the podium in the center of the room. Above her head, a large holo map appeared depicting Dudllias, Ulan’nagn and the systems Jonathan’s technicians had recovered from the damaged Protectorate destroyer. “I will get right to it. The capture of Dudllias and especially the intelligence on the nearest Protectorate worlds has altered Admiral Becket’s plan of attack. We have Commodore Magnuson and his captains to thank for these developments. They acquitted themselves admirably.” As she spoke, Davenport held Jonathan’s gaze and he got the impression she was speaking to him specifically. The very briefest hint of a smile cracked her lips and then her eyes moved on.

“After the Battle of the Gift, we forced the Protectorate forces to retreat for the first time in this war. Now that we have taken Ulan’nagn, they are also on the defensive. So far, our scouts have not found any fortified positions between Ulan’nagn and the borders of Rasmorse space.” Davenport gestured above her. “Now, with this intelligence, we can strike at the Rasmorse and keep them on the defensive. It is our hope that doing so will buy us time for more Imperial fleets to be moved into the sector, and hopefully, also force the Rasmorse to come to a negotiated ceasefire.

“Our part in the next phase of Admiral Becket’s plan is to launch a feint attack against Farvul’vian.” Davenport paused to let her words sink in. “We don’t know for sure that is where Lvant has retreated with his fleet, but it makes the most sense. Our scouts will advance and confirm if Lvant is there or not. Whether he is or not, however, our main force will follow and launch a mock attack on the fleet base. Our goal is to make it look like Admiral Becket’s main force is moving on Farvul’vian. Meanwhile, she will really strike another Protectorate target, one designed to cause maximum confusion to our enemy.”

Cryptic, Jonathan thought as Davenport continued to explain their mission. It seemed she wasn’t going to divulge Becket’s true target. Jonathan’s ears pricked up when he heard Commodore Magnuson’s name.

“As we need to look like we are the lead elements in Becket’s main fleet, each of our scouting squadrons will be receiving reinforcements,” Davenport explained. “Several of the light ships that have accompanied me will be joining Commodores Magnuson’s and Raleigh’s squadrons. Commodore Magnuson’s force will be our main screening force. Since his ships captured this system and the star maps that we will be using for our offensive, it is only fitting they lead us into these systems.”

Jonathan felt an elbow in his ribs. He turned to find Henning grinning at him. He felt just the same. They were going to be right in the thick of it. Though he managed not to grin and totally betray his feelings, he found himself imagining what was ahead of them, even as Davenport continued the briefing.

When the datapad in his tunic vibrated, he realized updated orders had been sent out to all the Captains. All around him, datapads were pulled out and Captains looked down at their specific instructions. Jonathan’s eyes widened when he saw just what his responsibilities would be. He was being given command of one-third of Magnuson’s squadron. Alongside Wasp, Unicorn, and Scimitar, one more destroyer and three more frigates would be moving out with Kestrel. Jonathan was to lead them along the left flank of Davenport’s proposed line of advance. Suddenly, a mixture of trepidation and excitement filled him. A great deal of questions also came to him. Thankfully, after giving her Captains and commanders time to read their new orders, Davenport opened the floor for questions. Jonathan found himself asking several before the Rear Admiral brought the meeting to a close.

Once everyone started to get to their feet, Jonathan took a few minutes to speak to Henning and Souness. Then he sought out Nash, Scimitar’s Captain. Scimitar had accompanied Davenport back from Ulan’nagn. The other four Captains of his flotilla were all strangers to him, and so Jonathan resolved to invite them to Kestrel for a meal. According to his orders, Magnuson’s squadron was to leave within twenty-four hours. But if he could, Jonathan wanted to squeeze in a face-to-face meeting with the new Captains. He was certain getting to know their personalities would prove useful in the days to come.

As he left the briefing room and headed towards the shuttle bay his shuttle had landed in, Becca cleared her throat from behind. Turning, he expected her to have some wise comment to make. Instead, he found Davenport walking beside her. “Admiral,” he spluttered in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No need to apologize, Captain, I just thought I’d see you off. You mind if I walk with you?” Davenport asked

“No, of course not, Admiral. This is your ship, after all.”

Davenport smiled. “Indeed, I suppose it is.”

They walked together in silence for several steps to the point where Jonathan felt he should say something. “I don’t suppose you’re giving out the details on just what Becket’s fleet will be up to?”

Davenport shook her head. “Operational security. It’s strange to think that enemy ships have been surrendering to us. We have thought of the Karacknids and the Flex-aor as our only enemies for so long, that taking prisoners is a surprise. But, the reverse is now also true. Earth’s fleet knows the Protectorates will accept our surrender. We have to keep our operations secure. You don’t need to know where Becket will be striking, and so you won’t. Not until it happens, at least.”

Jonathan nodded. Though we wanted to know, he understood.

“You have done well,” Davenport said, coming to why she had joined him. “I gave you time to get Kestrel into shape, and it seems you made good use of it. Tell me, are you happy with how she has performed?”

“I am,” Jonathan said quickly. “Without the drones, we would not have won either of the engagements we fought against the Protectorate squadron here. In small scale battles, they are very effective.”

“And you have the element of surprise,” Davenport pointed out. “That worked in your favor both times.”

“It did,” Jonathan admitted. “If they had known what they were against, the Protectorates would likely have reacted differently.”

“But, you used their ignorance to great effect,” Davenport said. “Just be wary in the future. Nearly half the Protectorate force escaped, so word will be spreading about the capabilities of your ship. You will be wise not to rely on such a ruse in the battles to come.”

“I understand, Rear Admiral, I will keep that in mind.”

Davenport stopped and gave Jonathan a sharp nod. “I trust that you will. You have done well, Captain. You have earned your position on this next attack. Just don’t get overconfident. All we have to do is pretend like we are going to threaten Farvul’vian. We don’t need to accomplish anything more than that. We need to conserve our strength for when we will attack for real.”

“Of course, Admiral, I will do my best to keep my ships from harm’s way,” Jonathan promised.

Davenport gave him a salute. “Good luck then, Captain, keep living up to that family name of yours.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jonathan replied as he returned the salute. Deep down, he felt a warmth spread through him. From his youngest years, he had grown up knowing his father was a hero to every naval officer who visited the Palace. Davenport had served with him during the Karacknid War. Her praise meant a lot. It also strengthened his determination. He didn’t want to let his father or her down. With a faster pace, he set off once again towards his shuttle.

*

Farvul’vian system, 25th March 2510 AD, (two weeks later).

Admiral Lvant sat perfectly still in his command chair. He read the joint reports from Ulan’nagn and Dudllias as slowly as he could. His whole body wanted to shake. Frustration and fear assaulted him. The Humans hadn’t taken their fleet to Bastion. They hadn’t even tried to drive off Admirals Hargar’s and Novolus’ fleets that were threatening Conclave space. Instead, they had taken the two systems he had spent several years preparing as forward bases. It had been a disaster when the Human fleet had destroyed Dudllias’ gas mining facilities, but what they had done now was far worse.

And now, they can come here, Lvant realized. There was nothing to stop them. A day ago, he would have thought the idea impossible. And even if they had come, he would have boasted his ships and defenses would driven them away. But now he was filled with doubt. The Human fleet had advanced far further and faster than he had thought possible. Their losses at the Battle of the Wormhole had been significant. But, their commander survived, a voice reminded Lvant. Admiral Becket had run rings around his supply fleets, then made a fool of him in the Bastion system, and then it had been her fleet that had managed to reopen the wormhole and allow all their reinforcements to come flowing through. And now, she has taken Ulan’nagn and Dudllias. Lvant had no illusions now about what the enemy Admiral would do next. She would come for him and his people’s worlds.

Sweat began to exude from all of Lvant’s pores as he struggled to keep his body and emotions in check. He didn’t want his subordinates to realize just how shaken he was. The Rasmorse Democracy’s borders that faced Human and Conclave space consisted of twenty-two systems. All were now in striking distance of Becket’s fleet. He was sure she would want to take out his main fleet base at Farvul’vian, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hit other worlds. Suddenly, Lvant realized the full extent of his foolishness. By launching the war early, he had left his species’ entire civilization open to invasion.

The latest reports from Vice Admiral Reverus had the lead squadrons of his fleet just six weeks away. Yet Becket could do untold damage in that time. And what if she decides to start nuking planets in retribution? The question sent Lvant’s heart into overdrive. He couldn’t be responsible for such loss of life and destruction. Yet what could he do?

Swallow your pride, you fool! Lvant thought to himself angrily. He had underestimated his enemy time and time again. No longer. Everything we have must be thrown at them. It is now or never!

“Commander Gensris,” Lvant said in a voice that shook despite his best effort to the contrary. “I have new orders in light of these reports. First, we are forming new squadrons and dispatching them out beyond our borders. The Humans have been screening their advance with powerful scouting squadrons. We need to match their forces and harry their attempts to scout our systems. In this way, we must buy as much time as possible.”

“Of course Admiral, but do you really think the Humans’ plan to try and attack us?” Gensris asked, his voice rising with his incredulity.

Lvant’s eyes flashed at his Chief of Staff causing the Commander to lower his gaze. “Second,” Lvant continued, his tone hardening. “Orders are to be sent to Admirals Hargar and Novolus to immediately return here as fast as possible. We must combine their strength with ours.

“Third, word is to be sent out to every system in our worlds and the Tolodon Republic’s worlds. Every armed ship is to be dispatched here at once. From here, we will assign them to our border garrisons to bolster our defenses. This is now a national emergency; I am using my authority as High Admiral to circumvent the normal political procedures in both democracies. Any and every armed ship is now being drafted into the Protectorate Navy.

“And fourth, I want the fastest ships in the fleet ready to depart for Vice Admiral Reverus’ fleet within ten minutes,” Lvant finished. Without waiting for a reply, he turned away from Gensris and pulled up a blank file on his console. Though it cost him what little pride he had left, he wrote out a simple plea for the Eaglaton Admiral to rush his lead elements to Farvul’vian as quickly as possible. Arriving with his fleet elements in order and ready for an offensive was now no longer a priority, he argued. Instead, he implored Reverus to come and undo the disaster he had brought upon his people.

When he was done, he encrypted it and sent it to Gensris. “Dispatch the ships at once,” he ordered. Then, his energy spent, Lvant sank into his command chair. Despite everything he had put in motion, he couldn’t shake the images of Imperial ships raining down missiles on his worlds from his mind.

Chapter 14

No governmental system is perfect, both the history of our species, and the experiences of the many alien civilizations we have encountered ably demonstrate this. That said, the Empire and its constitution has served Humanity well this last half millennium. Of course, that does not mean there have not been attempts to change the constitution or end the Empire entirely.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, Juniper system, 2nd April 2510 AD, (one week later).

After three weeks of little action, the initial excitement of setting off from Dudllias began to wear off for Jonathan and his officers. In each of the three systems they passed through, they encountered more Protectorate scouts. However, now that Kestrel wasn’t on her own, none of them attempted to stand and fight. Instead, Jonathan had little to do but oversee the thorough search of each system to make sure no other scouts had tried to stay hidden. Quickly, Jonathan began to envy the frigates in his flotilla, for while Kestrel and his four destroyers searched each system, he pushed the frigates out to the surrounding systems to scout ahead.

As a result, both Scimitar and Beatle had fought brief skirmishes with Protectorate scouts. Jonathan had given each frigate Captain express orders to disengage from any combat, as a frigate was inevitably going to be out matched in almost any battle. But even so, the Captains had at least had the excitement of running from danger to break the monotony of searching each system.

All this was why, when Beatle brought back a report of something strange she had discovered, Jonathan jumped at the chance to investigate. “I think I’d like to go and take a look for myself,” he said to Cortez as she, Lydia, and Jonathan read the report that had just been transmitted from Beatle. “We can leave the destroyers here to finish looking through the system. It will take them another day at least. We can move ahead and see if this station is still in use.”

“You think we might happen upon a Protectorate ship using it?” Cortez asked.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jonathan replied. “Inform Beatle she is to fall into formation with us. She can come too.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cortez said with a smile. “It would be cruel to leave her here after she discovered it.”

“Indeed,” Jonathan agreed.

“If we were wanting to sneak up on the station, or even lay low and watch it for a while, I was thinking this might be our best line of approach,” Lydia suggested as she altered the view on the holo display from what Beatle had discovered to the wider system. A course appeared that led through a thick asteroid belt, around a gas giant, and then towards the planet in question whilst using the system’s third planet as a screen for most of the way.

Jonathan studied it for several seconds and then nodded to his Second Lieutenant. “That will work for me. We can deploy several stealth drones around the third planet and get a look at what is going on.”

*

IS Kestrel, 5th April 2510 AD, (three days later).

“Well, Captain Marsh was right, it does look like a refueling station,” Jonathan said as the first images came back from the recon drone they had inserted into a high orbit around the system’s fourth planet. There wasn’t a trace of electromagnetic radiation coming from the station, but the drone was close enough to get visuals. The two large spheres in the center of the station gave it away. They were only going to be used to store fuel.

“It is well hidden,” Lydia commented from her position manning Kestrel’s sensors. “The planet’s rocky ring masks it from visuals unless you are directly above or below it, and even up close, the drone isn’t getting any active emissions from any of its systems.”

“It must be powered down,” Jonathan guessed. “Maybe even it is unmanned. It can just sit there until a Protectorate ship comes by needing fuel, and they power it up and activate it themselves.”

“It really was a stroke of fortune Beatle spotted it from so far then,” Cortez said. “If it wasn’t for that solar flare.”

Jonathan nodded. A particularly powerful solar flare had ejected so much radiation towards the system’s fourth planet that Beatle had picked up a return from the lifeless-looking station. Luckily, there were no signs of life on the planet, for the flare would have killed any complex biological species who would have been in its way.

“I wonder how many more of these stations are out there?” Cortez asked. “I’d like to think we would have found any in the systems we have checked. But, we were looking for Protectorate warships in stealth, not small stations completely powered down.”

“I’d say they’d have had to be hidden even better than this for us to miss one like this,” Jonathan surmised. “But then, we are getting very close to Rasmorse space now. Maybe they haven’t gone to as much effort to hide this one. There could be others more towards Ulan’nagn or even the Gift that we have missed. We’ll have to send word back to Admiral Becket so she can warn the rest of the scout squadrons to be on the lookout.”

“Maybe we should send over a boarding team?” Cortez suggested. “If we can get access to the station, we could maybe figure out how to better look for others if they are out there.”

“A good idea,” Jonathan replied. “But we have a couple of days before Henning and the others finish up in the Juniper system. I think I’d rather like to wait and see if anything happens. We took the time to sneak all the way here in stealth. Let’s just hang around a bit and see if anyone comes looking to top up their fuel reserves.”

*

The buzzing of the COM unit built into his bed awoke Jonathan from a deep sleep. Instinctively, he tapped it, even as he tried to remember where he was. “We’ve detected a contact,” Lydia’s excited voice said at once.

Instantly, Jonathan was fully awake. “I’ll be right there.”

Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his uniform, stopped in front of the nearest mirror just long enough to make sure his hair wasn’t a complete mess, and then rushed to the bridge. “What have we got?” he asked as he quickly moved to his command chair.

“The stealth drone has picked up emissions from what we think are maneuvering thrusters,” Lydia informed him. “That’s all we’ve got so far, but if the drone detected them, then they must be ships moving towards the station. If we get a second reading, we can begin to triangulate the location and course of the contact.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan replied. “We’ll hold off going to battle stations just yet, but tell the cook to push forward the nearest mealtimes. Everyone may as well get a chance to eat in case this turns into a protracted engagement.”

“I’ll let the cook know,” Lydia replied.

It took ten minutes, but eventually the stealth drone picked up another emission. “It’s definitely from a ship,” Lydia said instantly. “There’s no doubt that was a maneuvering thruster firing off. The ship must be approaching in stealth and just using its thrusters to settle into orbit around the planet.”

“Are we sure it’s just one ship?” Cortez asked. She had come to the bridge several minutes before.

Lydia looked back down at the data coming from the drone. “It could be from two different ships. That’s certainly possible. But, if there were a large group, we’d be picking up more emissions from maneuvering thrusters. With the planet’s rocky ring, it’s not easy to bring a ship into dock with the station.”

“We don’t need to get too worried about that just yet,” Jonathan said as he shifted in his command chair. “It will take at least an hour for whatever is out there to reach the station, and then, I’d guess at least another couple of hours to get the station up and running and complete the refueling process. We can afford to be patient and see just who’s out there.”

An hour later, Lydia had a much fuller picture of what was going on. Once the contact came close to the station, the stealth drone was able to obtain a good visual. The first thing Lydia confirmed was that there were two of them. Even without the ship’s computer, Jonathan was familiar enough with Protectorate warships to recognize a light cruiser and a destroyer.

“It will be about an even match,” Cortez estimated as they considered the possibility of striking at the Protectorate ships. “The destroyer outmatches Beatle, but we should have an edge over the cruiser. What do you want to do?” She asked as she caught Jonathan’s eyes.

Jonathan took a moment to consider their options. As he did, he felt the rest of the bridge officers all stopping what they were doing to await his answer. Both Protectorate ships were docked with the station. Now that it was powered up, the stealth drone was picking up intermittent emissions from it, telling Jonathan that the refueling process had begun. They would be able to catch the Protectorate by surprise, but his ships were still well out of missile range of the station. They would have time to react. But, they’d still be rattled, Jonathan told himself. And maybe we could sneak a little closer, too.

Before he could give Cortez his answer, Lieutenant Harte spoke. “I have an idea we could try, Captain,” he said from his PD drone station. “Actually, I had it a while ago, but I think it could work in this situation.”

Jonathan smiled at his Sixth Lieutenant, Harte was showing just the kind of initiative he wanted in his officers, even if the idea ended up being a bad one. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“Powered down, our point defense drones are pretty stealthy,” Harte said. “They’re designed to be that way, so they don’t attract fire from enemy missiles. We could deploy two of them forward towards the Protectorate warships, for we know where they’ll be for the next hour or more. Even with the other four, we’d still have an advantage over the Protectorate cruiser. With the other two then, they would have a chance to take out the enemy missiles almost as soon as they are fired. With far less velocity, they would be easier to hit. And it might throw the Protectorates off.”

“It might indeed,” Jonathan said as he pictured the surprise one might feel if the missiles you had just fired were blown up in front of you. “But what about the drones, they could be easily destroyed.”

Harte nodded. “That’s the risk. But, if we keep them out of energy weapon range, the Protectorates will have to fire missiles to try and hit them. Which isn’t too easy to do, and they’d be wasting missiles they could have fired at us.”

“Yes, they certainly would. I like it, Lieutenant,” Jonathan replied. He turned to Cortez. “Send the crews to battle stations, inform Beatle we’re going to attack. We’ll stay in stealth and come around the fourth planet and head towards their position. As soon as we get a sign that they have detected us, we’ll go to full power and charge into missile range. Once we round the planet, we will also enact Mr. Harte’s plan. Launch two drones and let their momentum take them in towards the station. Let’s see if we can’t catch these ships with their pants down.”

At Jonathan’s command, Kestrel and Beatle gently powered up their reactors to ten percent. Then, a small amount of thrust from their impulse engines started them moving out from behind the system’s fourth planet. As soon as they were lined up, Jonathan nodded to Harte. Kestrel’s sixth Lieutenant detached two PD drones, and with a short three-second boost from their thrusters, sent them moving towards the Protectorate station.

Everyone on Kestrel’s bridge held their breath. If the two Protectorate ships were watching closely, or they had deployed their own stealth drones, or they just got lucky, there was a chance they could detect emissions from the Imperial ships’ and drones’ movements. As the minutes ticked by, however, Jonathan’s heart rate gradually slowed. They hadn’t been detected yet.

Twenty minutes passed, and still neither Protectorate ship powered up their active sensors or detached from the station. “The PD drones will be in position in two minutes, Captain,” Harte informed Jonathan. “The Protectorates are bound to detect the thrust from their engines when I arrest the drones’ momentum.”

“I’m sure they will,” Jonathan replied, he had already accepted that. “Inform Beatle we are coming out of stealth in ninety seconds,” he ordered. “Hopefully, the Protectorates will be so startled by our appearance that they won’t even notice the drones.”

“Updating Beatle now,” Abrahams acknowledged while Harte’s concern turned into a smile.

Jonathan had to hide one of his own. Harte was evidently getting attached to his drones. He didn’t want to lose any of them. Jonathan understood, he had felt the same way about Achilles. And though it was different, Kestrel was cementing her own place in his affections.

“Coming out of stealth,” Cortez announced when the time came.

Together, Kestrel and Beatle sprang forward as their reactors and engines went to full power. The holo plot updated to show that they would be able to open fire with long-range missiles in just three minutes. The Protectorate ships detected them instantly. However, their reaction was haphazard. Ten seconds passed before their active sensors came online to confirm there were only two enemy ships within the vicinity. Reactors, engines, offensive, and then defensive systems came online next. Yet, the two ships didn’t move. They couldn’t. Fuel was still being pumped from the resupply station through umbilicals into the fuel tanks in the center of each ship. The emergency shutdown procedure had been initiated, but even it took two minutes to stop the flow of fuel and seal off each tank securely.

Just as the two Protectorate ships disengaged their docking clamps with the station, Kestrel and Beatle opened fire. Twenty-one mark VII missiles shot out towards the two enemy ships. The Protectorates fired their engines at maximum as they tried to accelerate up and out of the gravity well of the third planet. It took them another three minutes to form up with one another and fire a coordinated salvo.

Thirty seconds after the twenty-three Protectorate missiles were fired, Harte activated his two PD drones. Coming online, they filled space around them with active sensor emissions. It took just two seconds for them to acquire the Protectorate missiles. Two more passed as they waited for their targets to come into range, then forty laser cannons began to shoot out hundreds of beams each. Initially, the Protectorate missiles didn’t react. Then, as they started to detonate, the missiles’ software threw them into a range of evasive maneuvers. Still more were destroyed by the PD drones. As the missiles then passed the drones, the drones simply reorientated themselves and fired beams after the accelerating missiles, taking out two more.

Jonathan let out a long whistle. In total, nine missiles had been destroyed. The Protectorate salvo had almost been cut in half. And it gets better, Jonathan realized, for the enemy missiles, now spread out because of their evasive maneuvers, had to slow to get back into formation, reducing the momentum they would have by the time they reached his two ships.

Before the Protectorates could fire again, Jonathan’s mark VII’s struck home. First, each missile cut off its primary engine and released three smaller antimatter warheads. Twenty-one missiles became sixty-three. Though they had ample time to prepare themselves, the Protectorate fire was still haphazard. Seven missiles got close enough to detonate. Antimatter washed over both ships. Neither was destroyed, but both suffered visible damage. The extent of the damage was confirmed when they finally fired their second volley and were only able to release twenty-one missiles.

We have them, Jonathan was sure. Already, he had two more salvos homing in on the fleeing Protectorate ships. “Hold fire,” he ordered, wanting to conserve missiles.

When the first Protectorate salvo came into attack range, they first had to survive the fire from the rest of Harte’s PD drones. He had pushed them out just ahead of Kestrel, and so they took out another four missiles and disrupted the remaining missiles’ formation once again. Coordinated fire from Kestrel and Beatle finished all but two of the rest. Jonathan winced when the detonation of one of the remaining two hurled a grazer beam into Kestrel’s shields.

“Our hull has been hit,” Cortez called out. “Minimal damage, no hull breach.”

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. A lucky hit could have reversed the advantage his ships had won. When the next enemy salvo came in, it proved even less deadly. With its number reduced thanks to the damage the Protectorate ships had already suffered, and from the fire of Harte’s PD drones. Kestrel and Beatle easily dispatched all of the missiles.

The Protectorate ships did not fare so well. Jonathan’s second salvo scored two proximity hits on the Protectorate destroyer, stripping it of most of its armor and point defenses. Their defensive fire compromised, missiles from the third salvo scored direct hits on both enemy ships. Penetrating through armor, hull, and internal bulkheads, by the time the antimatter missiles detonated, they took out the hearts of both vessels.

“Take us towards them,” Jonathan ordered as both Protectorate ships broke apart and began to tumble away from each other. “Launch shuttles as soon as we are able, I want to rescue any who might have survived. Then, we can see if we can recover any intelligence from those damaged sections.” Jonathan knew it was a long shot, but given what they discovered on the Protectorate destroyers that had surrendered at Dudllias, it was worth trying.

“Aye, Captain,” Cortez said as she shared a wink with him.

Jonathan couldn’t help smiling back. It had been a very one-sided victory. But, that was certainly not something he was going to complain about. Kestrel had done him proud. “I think congratulations are in order,” Jonathan said as he decided to share his pleasure with his officers. “Pass my compliments on to Beatle on her fine work as well. And Lieutenant Harte, you deserve special recognition. It was a fine idea deploying those two drones so far forward. I’ll be mentioning you in my report.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harte said as he beamed at his fellow officers.

Jonathan shared a wink with Cortez this time. Harte’s example would hopefully encourage the others to begin speaking up when they had an idea, and to think outside the box a little more. Now, to the work of cleaning up after ourselves, Jonathan thought as he refocused on the tasks before him.

Two hours after the battle the wrecks of the two Protectorate ships had been scavenged for survivors and intel and Harte’s PD drones recovered. Carefully, Lieutenant Scholes then maneuvered Kestrel into orbit around the system’s third planet just above the Protectorate station. Jonathan and the rest of his bridge officers watched as a shuttle was launched and headed for the station. Kestrel had her heavy laser cannons charged and targeted on the station. They hadn’t detected any signs of life on the station, nor any point defensive weapons. But, Jonathan had given Lieutenant Artex permission to open fire at the first sign the shuttle was in danger.

“Getting energy spikes from the station,” Artex suddenly called out as her hand moved over her console.

“Hold fire,” Lydia called out. “It’s coming from a reactor, not a weapons system.”

“Order the shuttle to bug out!” Jonathan ordered, guessing what was about to happen.

Sure enough, as the shuttle pulled up and away from the station, the power from its reactor kept rising and rising. Just ten seconds later, the fusion reactor overloaded and the station disappeared in a blinding flash.

Jonathan turned to his sensor officer after watching the debris be hurled in every direction by the explosion. “Is there anything worth trying to investigate?”

Lydia shook her head. “Sorry, Captain, there’s nothing large enough to try and salvage.”

Jonathan let out a sigh. “I guess that’s the end of our excitement for now.” Wasp and his other ships weren’t expected to join them for another thirty-six hours or so. “There’s nothing else for us to do but begin a thorough search of the system. Who knows, there might be another fueling station out there.”

Jonathan doubted it, but they had to look. As far as he knew, Davenport intended to bring her fleet right through this system, and so they needed to be sure there weren’t any other surprises out there. Back to the monotony, Jonathan thought, though he was sure it wouldn’t last forever. They were getting closer and closer to the Rasmorse’s border worlds. Sooner or later, the Protectorates would have to come out and fight.

Chapter 15

Sometimes in a battle there are no right decisions. What may appear correct, indeed, what every naval tactical guide would clearly suggest is the right move, may still have devastating repercussions.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, 9th April 2510 AD, (three days later).

It took another twenty hours to fully survey the system Kestrel was in after Wasp and Jonathan’s other ships joined them. As soon as they were done, Jonathan had his ships rendezvous with Kestrel and together, they set course for the shift passage to the next system on their list. Beatle had already been sent ahead to check it out, and had returned to report no signs of the enemy. Though Jonathan suspected that might change when a larger imperial force showed up.

He never got to give the order to jump into shift space however, for ten minutes before Jonathan’s flotilla reached the shift passage, a new contact appeared on the holo plot. “It’s an Imperial frigate,” Lydia reported within seconds. “The computer has recognized its drive signature. She is Nova.”

“Another message from Magnuson, I guess,” Cortez said. Magnuson had been using Nova to keep in contact with Jonathan’s ships.

“She’s changing course,” Artex reported. “Wait, she is changing again. It’s a prearranged message.”

“I have it,” Lydia said, her voice rising as she turned. “Enemy in sight.”

Jonathan reacted immediately. “Full reverse. Set course for the shift passage Nova has just come from.”

It would take over an hour for any normal communication Nova might send, and so Jonathan had no idea where the enemy was, but heading for Nova was the most logical direction. And Captain Harkin clearly wants to get our attention.

As soon as Nova saw Kestrel and her consorts changing course, she slowed and came to a halt relative to the system’s star. “I guess she doesn’t have anything else to say just yet,” Cortez commented.

“We’re doing what he wants,” Jonathan responded.

The sixty-five minutes it took Nova’s message to reach Kestrel seemed to last an age for Jonathan. His mind couldn’t help thinking of reason after reason for why Nova had appeared with such haste. Magnuson could have come across an enemy squadron and needed help chasing it down. Or, he could have been ambushed himself. Worse, it could be Davenport or even Becket who were in trouble. A powerful flanking attack might have forced either to retreat, or perhaps the Protectorates had launched a counterattack towards Ulan’nagn. The possibilities were almost endless.

Around him, Jonathan could feel everyone else getting restless as well. It got so bad that he ordered his flotilla to carryout a simulated battle against one another. It partially worked, providing some distraction, but none of his ships performed to their best, telling him all their crews were still distracted.

Eventually, Nova’s message arrived. As Jonathan opened it, everyone else on the bridge held their breath. He wasted no time in telling them what it said. “Magnuson’s scouts detected a powerful Protectorate squadron advancing towards his position. He thinks they have detected him. He doesn’t have the strength to confront them and is falling back. We are to rendezvous with him in the Mourne system as soon as possible.”

As he explained, Jonathan projected the new information onto the holo display. A map appeared marking Magnuson’s flotilla and the new Protectorate squadron. Magnuson was two systems south-west of Kestrel’s position, while the Protectorates were two systems due west. With a heavy cruiser, three medium cruisers, and twelve smaller ships in his force, Magnuson was outnumbered two to one.

Right away, Jonathan saw two problems. First, if he didn’t move his ships fast, he would never be able to get to Magnuson in time. The coordinates Magnuson had given for the rendezvous were three systems south of where Kestrel was now. If the Protectorates advanced at a swift pace, they would beat Jonathan to Magnuson’s position. Second, if he was late, or if the Protectorate commander had other smaller forces spread out to watch his flanks, Jonathan could find an enemy force between him and Magnuson. His ships could be cut off behind enemy lines.

You’ve been behind enemy lines before, he reminded himself as his heart rate started to race. Yet, that had been when Admiral Becket had been in command. It doesn’t matter, if the Protectorates are hunting Magnuson, they won’t be hunting us. So, we’ll be in position to cause them a fright.

Jonathan hoped he was right as he summoned a level tone to begin to give orders. “Time is of the essence,” he began, knowing his senior Lieutenants could read the situation as well as he. “As soon as we reach Nova, we’re jumping out. Have every ship run a full diagnostics check, we’re going to be travelling at maximum speed for the next week. Any parts that look like they’re not going to hold up need to be replaced now. And, make sure our ships know that we won’t be slowing for anything. If something breaks, they’ll either have to do without, or be left behind.”

“Understood, Captain,” Cortez responded in a tone that said she did indeed understand the seriousness of the situation as well as he. Not only did Magnuson’s ships hang in the balance, the entire feint on Farvul’vian did as well, for if Magnuson was driven back towards Davenport’s ships, she would have to confront the enemy fleet and either give away her strength or be so delayed, the feint would be too late.

Jonathan gave Cortez a solemn nod, and then let her begin to pass on his orders. Hold on Magnuson, he thought towards his superior, we’re coming.

*

Is Kestrel, Mourne system, 15th April 2510 AD, (six days later).

Despite travelling as fast as they could, within seconds of arriving in the Mourne System, the holo display updated to show they were too late. Jonathan felt the anguish run through his officers. They had all pushed themselves and Kestrel harder than they had before. Several systems had malfunctioned or failed, and the rest of the ship had required constant supervision. Yet, his crew had pulled it off. Though no one said it, ‘all for nothing’ hung in the silence that descended on the bridge as everyone took in what they were seeing.

Magnuson’s squadron was easily identifiable. Eighteen ships centered around Viking were racing through the system at high speed. Behind them, and between the shift passage Kestrel had just jumped out of and Viking, were twenty-six enemy ships. The Protectorates were on the hunt.

We came too close to their worlds, Jonathan realized. The Protectorates were finished with retreating before Davenport’s screening squadrons.

“What are we to do now?” Cortez asked, giving voice to the very same thoughts running through Jonathan’s mind.

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. His ships were too far away to catch up to the Protectorates and aid Magnuson. If he charged into the system, Magnuson’s ships would reach the shift passage they were running to and be able to jump out before Kestrel could fire a single long-range salvo. And if we charge in and his ships jump out, the Protectorates could turn and trap us. So what then? Jonathan asked himself. Are you going to do nothing?

Jonathan’s shoulders tightened. Whatever other options he had, that was not one he was going to take. Closing his eyes, he tried to put himself in Magnuson’s position. It was possible the Commodore had held his ships in the system for as long as possible, hoping Jonathan’s reinforcements would have arrived in time. That explained how the Protectorates had been able to get so close. Magnuson had only retreated at the last moment. He didn’t want to retreat, Jonathan was certain. Magnuson would understand even better than him how important it was to keep pressing forward. A week’s delay could throw off Davenport’s feint attack and more importantly, whatever Becket’s real plans were. Which means we cannot just fall back. But, even if we can’t help Magnuson fight, maybe we can help him bluff.

Jonathan’s eyes snapped to Cortez. “We’re going in. Set in a pursuit course, full power!” he ordered. “And have Beatle carry out a maneuver to send a signal to Magnuson. Repeat the one Nova initially sent to us. ‘Enemy sighted,’ and add ‘dead ahead.’

“At once, Captain,” Lieutenant Scholes said as he began to input a new course into his navigation console. “Transmitting to the rest of our flotilla,” he updated a moment later. “Taking us in,” he added as he increased power to Kestrel’s impulse engines.

Within seconds, the holo plot updated to add Kestrel and Jonathan’s six other ships to the display. Their projected course took them straight towards the Protectorate squadron’s course, but their two lines wouldn’t intersect until the Protectorates reached the system’s mass shadow. If they wanted to, the Protectorates could pursue Magnuson into shift space and Jonathan couldn’t stop them.

The ball is in your court, Jonathan thought towards Magnuson.

Two minutes slowly passed without anything happening. Then, as Magnuson’s ships began to turn, Jonathan smiled. Magnuson was going to bluff! His ships were reforming into an offensive formation and looked like they were going to give battle to the Protectorate squadron.

Both Cortez and Lydia looked around at Jonathan, their mouths partly open. “He’s not really going to fight, is he?” Lydia asked for both of them and the rest of Kestrel’s bridge officers.

Jonathan shook his head. “But, the Protectorate commander doesn’t know that. If Magnuson fights, he will lose, yes, but we will be able to mop up whatever is left of the Protectorate squadron. Magnuson is willing to sacrifice his own ships to defeat the Protectorates. At least, that’s what the Protectorate commander is meant to think. And the Protectorates must know we use prearranged maneuvers to send messages FTL. They must be wondering what Beatle’s maneuver meant.”

“Maybe that we have more ships on the way?” Lydia suggested.

Jonathan gave his Second Lieutenant a wink. “With any luck.”

“It’s ballsy, very ballsy,” Cortez said. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Hopefully, it does,” James replied. “If it doesn’t, the Protectorates have the advantage in numbers, but Magnuson has almost as many cruisers. He can handle a few long-range salvos and still turn and run for the shift passage.”

Cortez pursed her lips together like she wasn’t entirely sure. In truth, neither was Jonathan. A couple of lucky hits and Magnuson could lose some of his force, even if he did turn around and try to flee. That was the risk, and Magnuson had chosen to take it.

In silence, everyone on Kestrel’s bridge watched with bated breath to see how the Protectorates would respond. Seventy seconds slowly dragged by without a hint of movement from them. Jonathan’s confidence started to waver. He started to conclude he was charging his ships into danger for no reason. When the holo display began to change, Jonathan smiled. The Protectorate ships were turning! His smile vanished a second later. They weren’t turning back. Rather, they were simply altering their heading to better engage Magnuson’s force.

They’re calling Magnuson’s bluff! Jonathan groaned to himself. The Protectorate commander was willing to engage Magnuson’s squadron, and then turn around and take on Jonathan’s ships immediately after. Jonathan shook his head. They must have orders to stop us at all costs. In hindsight, it was obvious. The Rasmorse wouldn’t want an Imperial squadron getting anywhere near their worlds. If they view us like we view the Karacknids, they will happily sacrifice themselves to keep us from their colonies.

“Captain,” Cortez said in a worried voice, pulling Jonathan’s eyes back to the holo display. “Magnuson is not retreating. He’s still moving to give battle.”

Jonathan screwed up his face. It didn’t make sense. If the Protectorates were going to call his bluff, Magnuson needed to get his ships out of harm’s way at once. Dread started to descend upon Jonathan. But then, we would be left on our own. “No, not for us,” he said as he shook his head forcefully. As every officer turned to face him Jonathan realized he had spoken out loud. He forced the fear from his face. “Have Beatle send another message. Tell Magnuson, ‘We will be fine.’”

It took three minutes for Beatle to spell out the full message, as there wasn’t a prearranged maneuver for Jonathan’s words. When Beatle finished, Magnuson’s ships didn’t alter course. Instead, just one frigate began to maneuver. Its message also had to be spelled out.

“Mission first,” Abrahams said. “The maneuvers spell ‘Mission first.’”

Every eye on Kestrel’s bridge again turned to Jonathan for explanation. Jonathan let out a long slow breath as anguish filled him at what was about to happen. “This enemy squadron is between Davenport’s ships and Farvul’vian. We can’t continue our push forward until it is taken out. Magnuson is going to make sure we have the opportunity to do just that.”

“At the expense of his own ships?” Lydia baulked her eyes widening.

Jonathan nodded. He wished it wasn’t so, but Magnuson’s message was crystal clear.

As the battle unfolded, Jonathan found himself on the edge of his seat. He watched every minute Protectorate course change, counted the time between each salvo, and analyzed every point defense barrage. In just a matter of an hour, he would be fighting the same enemy. Magnuson’s ships and crew were giving their lives to give him an edge over them, he had to make use of everything they gave him.

Unsurprisingly, Magnuson charged in with his ships. He wanted to get as close as possible to fire his mark VIII missiles. The Protectorate commander veered off to prolong the long-range missile duel. However, he couldn’t prolong it too long, or Jonathan’s ships would be able to join battle before Magnuson’s force had been dealt with. As a result, Magnuson got into mark VII range before either force had lost any ships. Each side had suffered damage, but every ship was still battle capable.

Over three salvos, both forces hammered each other with their best weapons. Mark VIII missiles released tens of laser beams into the heart of the Protectorate ships. Each salvo caused a ripple of detonations to pass up and down the Protectorate squadron. The first salvo made it apparent Magnuson was targeting the four enemy cruisers, for they suffered the majority of the damage.

The Protectorate close-range missiles each released ten smaller warheads just before the Imperial defenses could fire on them. Zipping in with high acceleration and maneuver rates, Magnuson’s defensive gunners had no hope of destroying them all. Every Imperial ship flung itself into evasive maneuvers. Even so, warheads from the first close-range salvo detonated on Imperial shields, armor, and broke through to rip holes in multiple hulls. One frigate detonated into a thousand pieces as five missiles hit it in quick succession.

As both sides’ second salvos crashed home, more ships were destroyed. One Protectorate cruiser was crippled and fell out of formation while two destroyers and a frigate were blown apart. One of Magnuson’s destroyers and another frigate were also taken out.

With both sides now bloodied, the third salvos proved the deadliest. With Magnuson still focusing most of his missiles on the Protectorate cruisers, two of the remaining three were blown apart. Laser beams ripped them to shreds. Two other ships were also melted to slag by laser beams. Yet five of Magnuson’s force suffered the same fate, including Magnuson’s Viking. One moment, she was there trying to dodge four incoming missiles, debris already streaming behind her from previous hits. Then, she was simply gone as three of the four missiles scored direct hits and detonated.

As the energy from the detonations dissipated and Kestrel’s sensors were able to get a clearer picture, Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists. Magnuson’s squadron had been decimated. Eight of his sixteen ships were gone. Half of the rest, including the single remaining cruiser, were falling out of formation, badly damaged. What happened next made Jonathan sit back in shock. One by one, in quick succession, the ships began to cut their engines. For a second, Jonathan thought they were suffering secondary explosions and he was watching even more of them be destroyed. Yet even the relatively undamaged ships began to cut their engines.

“They’re surrendering!” Cortez said in shock. “They’re cutting their engines!”

Shame filled Jonathan. He had never seen an Imperial ship surrender before. But, we’ve never fought a foe who would accept our surrender before, he realized. Suddenly, the full extent of Magnuson’s plan hit him. He planned for his ships to surrender all along! That was why he had brought his squadron into close range. He had devastated the Protectorate ships and then surrendered. Too late to save himself, but he did it, he has crippled them, Jonathan thought as he analyzed the Protectorate squadron. Their twenty-four ships had been reduced to just fourteen. Though that was double Jonathan’s strength, they had all suffered damage.

Even as Jonathan watched, several had to fall out of formation, unable to keep up with their main fleet. As the Protectorate squadron started to turn to face Jonathan’s ships, only ten could make the maneuver. The other four either started to arrest their momentum or moved towards the surrendered Imperial ships to take control of them.

“Open a COM channel to all our ships,” Jonathan ordered as he turned to Abrahams. His COM officer nodded when it was open. “Imperial warships,” he said in as fierce a tone as he could muster. It took little effort. “Commodore Magnuson’s squadron just thrust themselves upon that Protectorate squadron. They did so for one reason. They placed their trust in us. They crippled as many Protectorate ships as they could to give us a fighting chance. Now, when they could no longer do any more damage to their opponents, they surrendered. Though it has cost Commodore Magnuson and thousands of others their lives.

“Now, it is our turn. We must pick up where they left off and finish this. For if Admiral Davenport’s plan is to succeed, we must clear the ships from our path. Let us honor those who have just given their lives to give us this chance. Fight with everything you have.” With a quick hand gesture, Jonathan ordered the COM channel ended.

“Here’s the plan,” he said as he turned to Cortez and Lydia. “Those ships are damaged. We have the acceleration advantage and we’re going to use it. We keep them at extreme range and hammer them with antimatter missiles until they either surrender or are no more. No matter what damage we take, we keep hitting them. Understood?”

“Understood!” Cortez and Lydia said, determination filling both their voices.

“Then, let’s finish this!” Jonathan replied as he lifted his voice for all his bridge officers to hear. “We’ll follow Magnuson’s example and target their cruiser first. Then, we’ll work our way down their larger vessels. Let’s see if we can’t convince them of the folly of fighting two Imperial forces in one day!”

“Aye, Captain!” more than one officer bellowed in return.

A nod from Jonathan sent them spinning back to their consoles, filled with a renewed fighting spirit. Now, to live up to our words, Jonathan said to himself. With nothing but open space between his ships and the Protectorates, there were no sneaky maneuvers around planetary bodies he could attempt to keep the Protectorates at bay. But this time, that didn’t matter, for he wanted to engage them head on, he just needed to keep them at arm’s length.

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed when his eyes passed over the surrendered ships from Magnuson’s squadron. A bunch of shuttles were moving back-and-forth between them, likely taking survivors from the more damaged ships. From the three Protectorate ships that were moving towards them, Protectorate shuttles were also out in space. They’re wasting no time taking command of their prizes, Jonathan thought. They want to make sure they can’t re-join the fight. Jonathan smiled. That was it, that was what would give him his advantage.

“Scholes, alter our heading to zero, zero, five point six,” Jonathan ordered. “We’ll engage them on this heading. Then, as soon as they are committed, I want to alter course to put us roughly on this trajectory,” he added as he input a series of coordinates into his console.

“You want to angle around them towards our surrendered ships?” Cortez asked. She figured out Jonathan’s plan before he could reply. “To force the Protectorates to turn back towards them as well.”

Jonathan nodded. “They can’t close with us if they are trying to beat us back to our surrendered ships.”

“That sounds good to me,” Cortez said with a smile.

“Lieutenant Harte, what is your recommendation for your PD drones?” Jonathan asked as he turned to Kestrel’s sixth Lieutenant.

“If we end up facing their short-range missiles, I’d suggest we push the drones ahead of our formation. They could take out some of their multistage missiles before they could release their warheads. But for now, I’d like to split the drones and push them out to either flank. It will allow us to hit the incoming missiles with a crossfire.”

Jonathan nodded. “Make it so,” he replied, happy to trust Harte’s judgement for the Lieutenant had proved himself very capable with the drones.

With their slightly longer-range missiles, the Protectorates opened fire first. One minute later, Kestrel and her consorts responded. At almost exactly the same time, a second volley was fired from both forces. The Protectorate’s slow rate of fire confirmed to Jonathan that at least some of the Protectorate ships were badly damaged. Nevertheless, they still had a significant advantage in missile numbers.

One hundred and thirty missiles were in the first Protectorate salvo. The first weapons to engage them were the long-range AM missiles fired from Jonathan’s seven ships. As they streaked out into space, the Protectorate missiles detected them coming and scattered. Seven got hits, but more importantly, they all did their job. Forcing the Protectorate missiles to break up their formation and launch their own attacks in staggered waves.

Coordinating the fire from all seven Imperial ships, Lieutenant Artex fired off a volley of flak cannon rounds. They detonated together creating a large wave of shrapnel that raced out to greet the incoming missiles. Twenty out of the first fifty were destroyed. Next, arc emitters from Kestrel and the three destroyers filled another area of space with dancing lightning balls that fried the seeker heads of another fourteen missiles. Then, the rest of the Imperial ships’ point defenses and the laser cannons of the PD drones joined the fight.

They only had twelve seconds to shoot down as many missiles as possible. Then, the Protectorate weapons came close enough to attack. Detonating, they sent all their thermonuclear energy through focusing crystals to create single grazer beams. Thirty-one of them flashed out towards Jonathan’s ships. Prepared for the attack, the Imperial ships were already flinging themselves into evasive maneuvers. Still, the grazer beams caused shields to flare, and armor sections to explode as some scored hits.

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no ships had been destroyed or crippled. When the damage reports started coming in, he was even more relieved. All his ships were still battle ready. Next, he turned his attention to his first salvo of missiles. The Protectorates had an advantage in point defensive fire. Yet, as his mark VIII missiles released all their antimatter warheads, the Protectorate fire looked uncoordinated. Their damaged systems, Jonathan guessed. Even so, the sheer weight of fire had its effect. Only six missiles got close enough to detonate. Four missed completely, thanks to Protectorate evasive maneuvers. One managed to catch a destroyer with a proximity hit. A large gash in its hull was visible seconds later where armor and weapons nodes had been negated. The second did the same to the sole Protectorate cruiser.

For a second, Jonathan hoped they had taken it out. Yet, the cruiser seemed to absorb the antimatter and continue on unabated. The Protectorates took a moment to realign themselves into their formation, and then fired again to show they were far from beaten. However, two less missiles were fired, telling Jonathan they were at least whittling away at the Protectorate’s strength.

The back and forth continued for two more salvos as Jonathan kept maneuvering his ships in a way that threatened to join up with what was left of Magnuson’s squadron. Each side suffered more hits, but no ships were lost. That changed as the fourth Protectorate salvo crashed into Jonathan’s ships. The destroyer Unicorn was struck by two grazer beams right down her center line. The intense energy beams ripped her open like a can opener. In horror, Jonathan found himself staring right into Unicorn’s innards. He thought he was able to make out one of her reactors. Then, something overloaded. One moment the stricken destroyer looked like she was going to be able to pull out of the fight, then she was blown apart from the inside.

Jonathan felt her loss stab his heart. He had come to count her Captain, Souness, as a friend. Now both were gone. In anger, he turned to the Protectorate fleet. His eyes narrowed as he willed on his next salvo. Already, the Protectorates were engaging it. Kestrel’s computer estimated their defensive fire had degraded by twelve percent since the beginning of the battle. This is it, Jonathan hoped and demanded at the same time.

To his delight, five missiles managed to close with the Protectorate medium cruiser, despite all the weapons fired at them. However, before they could strike, a frigate came charging out of nowhere. It destroyed one missile and then flared its engines, attracting the attention of two more. Both hit the frigate, encompassing it in a bubble of antimatter. When it receded, barely a third of the frigate was left.

Jonathan grimaced despite the destruction of another enemy ship. He wanted the cruiser! When two more antimatter blooms suddenly appeared, his eyes widened in shock. He had forgotten about the two missiles that hadn’t been distracted by the frigate. Despite the cruiser’s evasive maneuvers, they had both managed to score proximity hits. The cruiser was bathed in antimatter. A crippled hulk flew out the other side.

Jonathan found himself cheering with the rest of his bridge officers. He shared a grin with Cortez, and then Lydia. They had just taken out a fifth of the enemy’s strength!

The Protectorate’s trouble didn’t stop there. Thanks to the steady rate of fire Jonathan’s ships were able to put out, the next Imperial salvo came crashing in three minutes and fifty-five seconds later. The Protectorates had barely managed to rearrange themselves into a new formation to make up for the two ships they had just lost. They didn’t come close to being able to fire a salvo of their own. Instead, they had to immediately focus on defending themselves. Ten antimatter missiles survived to detonate. Three more Protectorate ships were destroyed or crippled.

Before Jonathan could celebrate, however, the next Protectorate salvo that had already been in space started to attack his ships. More grazers hit their targets. Kestrel shook for the first time in the battle. A previous hit had drastically depleted her shield. Now, a beam punched right through it. Valstronium armor melted, then the beam burnt through the cruiser’s hull. Several bulkheads were vaporized, killing eight crew instantly. One mass driver cannon was also taken out, along with several sensor arrays.

Jonathan could tell the damage was bad from the strength of the vibrations that ran up his command chair. He forced himself to leave the emergency response to Cortez. Instead, he ran his eyes over the rest of his ships. Wasp and Scimitar’s shields had both flared, telling him they had been hit. Yet they both still looked intact. He turned his attention to the Protectorate squadron just in time to see every ship cut their engines.

“They’re surrendering!” he shouted in shock. For a second, he thought it had to be some kind of trick. The Protectorates had lost five ships, but seven still remained against his six. Altering the holo plot to see the rest of the system, Jonathan searched for another group of enemy ships, thinking they were doing the same thing Magnuson had. Yet there was no sign of any reinforcements. Instead, all he saw was the four badly damaged Protectorate ships that had stayed with Magnuson’s surrendered ships also cut their engines. They really are, he thought as he turned his gaze back to the Protectorate ships. Magnuson did it! He realized. Without their medium cruiser and the two destroyers Jonathan had also destroyed, the remaining Protectorate destroyers and frigates didn’t have the firepower to break through his ships’ point defenses. They realize fighting on is futile.

“It’s over!” Jonathan said as he shook his head, hardly believing his own words. The grins on all of his officers told him they did. For several seconds, they all shared looks of joy and delight. Then, Jonathan’s mind went to his ship. “The damage?” he asked as he caught Cortez’s eye. “How bad?”

“We have eight confirmed KIA,” she said solemnly. “Two sections are open to space, but the damage to our systems is minimal. Most of it we can repair without needing a repair yard.”

“Then we focus our efforts on Beatle,” Jonathan ordered as he let the joy at their victory fade away. Though the fighting was over, they had much still to do. “Send word to those Protectorate ships that I want the people they sent to take control of Magnuson’s ships taken back to their ships. Then, get in contact with Magnuson’s squadron, offer them all the help we can. If we have any spare shuttles, Major Roscommon is to begin sending over prize crews to the Protectorate ships.”

“Sending your orders out now,” Cortez responded.

For an hour, Jonathan turned his attention from one problem to another as he sorted out his ships, sent emergency teams over to Beatle, organized for Wasp to take the stricken frigate in tow, helped Magnuson’s ships secure their damaged systems so they wouldn’t suffer further damage, and sent boarding parties over to the Protectorate ships and take their senior officers back to Kestrel.

When he finally got a moment to himself, he sat back in his command chair and surveyed the battlefield. What a victory, he thought to himself. Thirteen Protectorate ships had been destroyed and eleven captured. He had lost Unicorn, and Beatle was a wreck. The rest of his and Magnuson’s ships were all damaged to one degree or another. But, we are alive, and the way is open for Davenport to continue her feint. You did it, Jonathan thought towards Magnuson. Your sacrifice was not in vain. Now, we just have to make sure we see the rest of this war through!

The first thing he had to do was get news of the battle to Davenport. “Get me Merlin’s Captain,” Jonathan requested. She was the least damaged frigate in his force. “I have a task for her.”

Chapter 16

Strike where your enemy is weakest, sap him of his strength, rob him of his confidence, and never allow him a moment’s rest.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Four days after the battle, Jonathan was on Kestrel’s bridge when ships started jumping into the system. Contact alarms went off, causing everyone to drop what they were doing. Jonathan had all his ships almost exactly where they had been at the end of the battle. Despite the risk of coming under attack again, far too many ships had been too badly damaged to try jumping into shift space. Instead, Jonathan and his people had spent all their time carrying out as many repairs on the more damaged ships as possible. If he had to flee and leave many of his prizes behind, he wanted to leave as few as possible.

Two days ago, a Protectorate scout had been detected and chased off by Wasp and Scimitar. Its appearance had reminded everyone of how perilous their situation was. As the contact alarms went off, Jonathan’s first thought was that a new Protectorate squadron had come. However, as the holo plot updated, the contacts were appearing from the shift passage closest to Kestrel. Only Imperial ships should be appearing there, Jonathan told himself. Though he didn’t relax until Kestrel’s computer started identifying the ships. When Zeus, Davenport’ flagship turned out to be among the ships, Jonathan finally allowed himself to fully relax for the first time since the battle. He could now hand over responsibility for all the ships sitting in formation with Kestrel to someone else!

As he watched the rest of Davenport’s ships arrive, two smaller squadrons of fifteen and sixteen ships surged deeper into the system. They made for the two shift passages that led towards Rasmorse space. Going to see if there is any more trouble ahead, Jonathan guessed. Once the last warships jumped out of shift space, freighters and other support ships began to appear. It seemed Davenport had brought her support fleet with her. Jonathan was very happy to see that. There would be tender ships with a host of engineers who could begin to help with the repairs to his ships. Some like Kestrel just needed a week or so’s care, and they’d be ready to re-join Davenport’s roster of battle-ready ships. Others, however, would need a lot of work before they could even begin the journey back towards Bastion and the repair yards there.

“Zeus is hailing us, Captain,” Abrahams reported minutes later when the main bulk of Davenport’s ships began to move towards Kestrel’s position.

“Acknowledge their request,” Jonathan said as he stood. “I’ll speak to Rear Admiral Davenport in my office.”

As he walked into his office, Jonathan found a steaming mug of coffee waiting for him on his desk. There was no sign of Heaton, though. He shook his head at his steward. The man was a master at his craft. Taking a seat, Jonathan tapped his desk COM unit to signal he was ready. Twenty seconds later, Davenport’ face appeared in front of him.

“Captain Somerville, it seems congratulations are in order again,” Davenport said as she gave him a small nod of recognition. “You have won quite the victory. First, the resupply station, and now this enemy squadron. You are almost single-handily clearing the path for our advance.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Rear Admiral,” Jonathan replied, slightly taken aback at how lightly Davenport was glossing over Magnuson’s death and the losses they had suffered. “Magnuson was largely responsible for our victory, and every crew fought their ships to the highest standard. If there are any congratulations to be shared, they should go to Magnuson first and every ship in the squadron.”

Davenport pressed her lips together and her voice hardened. “Tell me then, when you charged your ships into the system, did you intend for Magnuson to sacrifice himself to give your flotilla an edge over the enemy?”

Immediately, Jonathan understood Davenport’s tone. She was testing him. He had been too busy to think about it before, but now, as Davenport spoke, he could immediately see what she was getting at. It was possible to interpret his actions in a very different light. She thinks I’m a glory-hungry spoilt heir, willing to sacrifice others to get what I want. The thought horrified Jonathan. But then, a lot of people had died in the battle. It had been a great victory, but a costly one, nonetheless. Wait, Jonathan warned himself as he remembered his many conversations with Davenport over the years and studied her face more closely. She only fears it may be so.

“I promise you, Rear Admiral, no such thought crossed my mind,” Jonathan said, filing his voice with the genuine grief he still felt. “When I ordered my ships to reveal themselves, I only hoped our presence would allow Magnuson to bluff the Protectorates. When he turned to engage, that is just what I thought he was doing. I was aghast when I realized it wasn’t a bluff. But once Magnuson had committed himself, there was nothing else I could do but make sure his sacrifice was not put to waste.”

Davenport stared at him. Her eyes seemed like they were trying to pierce through to his heart. The silence extended for several seconds. Then, she suddenly nodded. “I believe you. You will have to accept my apology. But I had to ask. When you revealed your ships, you put them in serious danger, for the Protectorates could have turned to take you on. That put Magnuson in a precarious position.”

Jonathan hadn’t thought about that. Suddenly, he put himself in Magnuson’s position. A subordinate officer commanding a section of the squadron Jonathan was responsible for had chased after a more powerful enemy. In such a position, how could he not have turned to help? Guilt assaulted Jonathan. Had he got Magnuson killed?

“Do not beat yourself up too much, Captain,” Davenport said in response to the new emotions she saw on his face. “He didn’t have to turn. Magnuson had the bigger picture to think about. That is the burden of a senior commander. He didn’t turn just to save you, he turned to see the mission through. Of that, I have no doubt. And now, I have no doubt about your intentions either.

“Which means I have other things I must turn my attention to,” Davenport went on in an even lighter tone. “I will be disbanding Magnuson’s squadron. You have lost more than half of your fighting strength, and many ships need repairs. Kestrel can stay here with the supply fleet and complete what repairs she needs. I will be pushing straight for Farvul’vian. I want to make it to the system before Lvant can dispatch any more forces our way. If you have completed your repairs by then, hopefully Kestrel will be able to join us.”

“Of course, Ma’am, we will do our best. My crew will want to see this through to the end,” Jonathan said with confidence.

“Then get to work, Captain, I’ll see that Kestrel gets priority.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Jonathan said, “I appreciate that.”

“We will speak more when this is over,” Davenport said as she gave Jonathan a salute.

Jonathan returned the gesture and then the COM unit switched off. He still felt guilty. He had put Magnuson in a difficult position and hadn’t even realized it. You still have a lot to learn, he told himself. And a lot to do. He wanted to see the feint attack through just as much as he knew his crew did. So then, back to work, Jonathan told himself. Magnuson would want it no other way.

*

For Jonathan and the officers and crew of Kestrel, five long, sleepless days and nights followed. Damaged hull sections had to be removed and replaced. Internal bulkheads were remade. New weapon emplacements and sensor nodes installed. Stores of munitions and food stuffs refilled. Then hours of drilling and live fire exercises completed to double and triple check that every new system would stand up in combat. By the time they were done, Jonathan felt like all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep for a week.

Instead, in company with Wasp, Scimitar, and several other warships, they spent a further six days racing through two systems to catch up with Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet. They re-joined Davenport just one system away from Farvul’vian. Over the six hours it took to cross the system and join the fleet’s formation, Jonathan read through the reports of everything he had missed. It seemed just two days ago Commodore Chambers’ powerful squadron had swept a Protectorate squadron from the system Kestrel was currently in. Then, with their movements being covered by Chamber’s force, Davenport had brought her ships to their current position.

“Getting orders from Zeus,” Abrahams reported when Kestrel came into two-way range of Davenport’s flagship. “We are being welcomed back to the fleet and have been assigned a position in IS Mississippi’s flotilla. According to the schedule, the fleet will be resuming its advance in one hour.”

“Acknowledge the orders,” Jonathan said, careful to keep the disappointment from his voice. Mississippi was a battleship near the rear of Davenport’s formation. Joining her flotilla meant Kestrel would be going wherever the battleship went, and given the entire attack was meant to be a feint, that probably meant not going too far. Jonathan had hoped Kestrel could have joined Commodore Chambers’ squadron, for her ships would be carrying out the kinds of missions Kestrel was designed for. But by now, Chambers’ ships are a well-oiled fighting machine, Jonathan told himself, joining them on the eve of battle could throw that off.

Instead of moving towards the vanguard of the fleet, Kestrel, Wasp, and Scimitar all slotted into various flotillas nearer the rear. As Kestrel took up her position, Jonathan was hailed by Mississippi’s Captain. They had a good conversation where Jonathan learned more about the specifics of Davenport’s plans. But mainly, they discussed how best to use Kestrel’s PD drones to aid in Mississippi’s defense. Sadly, the answer was that their usefulness would be very limited. With Kestrel in the midst of a dense formation of warships, the drones would have to stay very close to the cruiser for fear of them crashing into another ship as it carried out evasive maneuvers. At the end of the day, Jonathan just had to accept that as the limitation of Kestrel’s design.

“I think it’s go time,” Cortez said forty-five minutes after Kestrel slotted into formation beside Mississippi. She nodded towards the front of Davenport’s formation where Chambers’ squadron was powering up its engines.

“It looks like it,” Jonathan agreed.

“It’s a pity we’re not joining them,” Artex said from her tactical console. “Our drones would give the Protectorate pickets a nice surprise.”

“Next time,” Jonathan responded. “We all did well to get here when we did. Now, we’ll just have to content ourselves with seeing this through.” And hope we aren’t needed, Jonathan thought but didn’t add, for if Kestrel was called into action, it would likely be because Lvant had a surprise waiting for them.

Seconds later, and Chambers’ thirty ships disappeared as they jumped into shift space. Five minutes after that, Davenport gave the order for the rest of the fleet to jump. Unlike Chambers’ squadron however, the main fleet didn’t jump all the way to the Farvul’vian system’s mass shadow. Instead they came out of shift space eight light hours from it. Then they waited. Over an hour passed before a frigate appeared from the direction of Farvul’vian. Kestrel’s computer recognized it as one from Chambers’ squadron.

“We’re getting orders to prepare to jump,” Abraham reported a minute later.

“I’m getting the coordinates from Zeus,” Scholes confirmed.

Jonathan shared a glance with Cortez and then Lydia. Chambers had obviously cleared away any picket ships the Protectorates had defending the end of the shift passage. Now, for the first time since they had discovered the system in Achilles, they were about to return. And we’re not coming with just one ship, Jonathan thought towards Lvant. From the moment Jonathan had first met the Rasmorse Admiral, he had mistrusted him. Though at the time, never had he imagined all the destruction and death Lvant would bring upon the Imperial Navy. But this time, we are the ones threatening you, he thought towards his enemy. Jonathan couldn’t help but smile as his ship prepared to jump into shift space. For though he knew the attack was meant to be a feint, it still felt good to be giving Lvant a taste of what it was like to have his own worlds threatened.

“Jumping in five seconds,” Scholes updated everyone.

Ahead of Kestrel, the vanguard started to disappear, then in their flotillas, each dreadnought, battleship, and battlecruiser division jumped into shift space. Mississippi was one of the last to jump. It just took ten seconds for Kestrel to travel the final distance to the edge of Farvul’vian’s mass shadow. Within seconds, the holo plot in front of Jonathan began to show the system. The first contacts detected were the ships of Chambers’ squadron. Three were missing, but the rest were chasing away several Protectorate light ships.

Further into the system, several large groups of ships were easily identifiable. Lvant wasn’t trying to hide what his ships were up to. The bulk of his fleet, over one thousand warships, were in orbit around Farvul’vian itself, protecting the Rasmorse colony. Then an additional three hundred were guarding the system’s second gas giant which was home to a large He3 mining facility. There were also another three hundred guarding the orbital mineral processing facilities and shipyards that had been built in orbit of the system’s second planet, a rocky volcanic world. Three smaller forces, ranging from fifty to ninety ships, dotted the outer system protecting various asteroid mining operations.

Impressive, Jonathan thought. Clearly, Lvant had been gathering as many ships to Farvul’vian as he could. For there were more ships present than when Jonathan had last been to the system, and Lvant had lost many of those ships in the fighting around Bastion and in the Battle of the Gift. Which means our feint is already working.

“Getting new course information,” Scholes called out. “We’re moving in thirty seconds.”

And so it begins, Jonathan thought as he nodded to Scholes.

Around Kestrel, hundreds of warships powered up their reactors and engines and began to move into the system. Accompanying them, just as many freighters did the same, only on Kestrel’s sensors, they gave off energy readings much more similar to Imperial warships rather than freighters. One even looked a lot like Becket’s flagship Trident. Jonathan leaned forward in his command chair as Davenport began to move her fleet into the system. If he wasn’t going to be in the forefront of the action, he wanted to watch and learn as much as he could from Davenport. He had been able to watch Admiral Becket up close and personal when he had served on her staff; now, he wanted to see what lessons he could pick up from Davenport.

*

Protectorate battleship Citadel

A mixture of emotions went through Admiral Lvant’s mind as the Imperial fleet began to move into his system. Their presence was a sign of his failures, and so filled him with shame. He should never have allowed an enemy fleet to actually attack one of his people’s worlds. Yet, with all the ships he had lost and after the fall of Ulan’nagn, the enemy attack had become inevitable.

At the same time, however, he had known this day was coming for weeks. The squadrons he had sent out to harass the Humans’ advance could only hold them back for so long. So despite the shame, he felt a confidence he hadn’t had in months. I’m ready for you, he thought towards the large Dreadnought in the center of the enemy fleet. Admiral Becket had thwarted him several times in the past, but he did not intend to let her do so again.

Turning away from the view of the enemy fleet, Lvant double-checked his forces in orbit around Farvul’vian. He breathed a sigh of relief when he could see no sight nor sign of his hidden ships. For if he couldn’t see them, then neither could the Imperials. That’s it, he thought as he turned back to the enemy fleet. Keep coming. I have a surprise for you. For in addition to the one thousand warships he had in formation with Citadel, there were an additional three hundred hidden in amongst Farvul’vian’s orbital stations. All of them were attached to the underside of the planet’s battlestations and storage stations. Whilst it would take them half an hour or so to detach and move to join his ships, Lvant was confident that would be more than enough time. All he had to do was wait for the Imperial fleet to commit itself against Farvul’vian, and then he would have them.

As events began to play out, however, Lvant found himself confused. Rather than press straight into the system, the thousand warships of the main Imperial fleet came to a halt two light hours from his position. Next, a hundred light ships split into several groups and began to slowly advance, keeping well away from Lvant’s various fleets dispersed throughout the system. From them and the Imperial capital ships, hundreds of recon drones were launched. They filled the system with electromagnetic energy. They are suspicious, Lvant realized. For some reason, or because of a lucky hunch, the Imperials were being unusually careful.

For the next four hours, Lvant coordinated his dispersed forces as he sent squadrons out to harass the enemy recon drones and scouting squadrons. Several small clashes ensued, but each time, the Imperials pulled back before the fights could come to a decisive end. When a spread of drones attempted to come close to Farvul’vian, Lvant paid extra care to destroy all of them. He didn’t want one getting a lucky return from one of his hidden ships.

When the final drone near Farvul’vian was destroyed, it was apparently a signal to the rest of the Imperial forces that were out scouting, for they all began to pull back. They have seen everything they know they are going to, Lvant concluded. Certain the enemy attack was about to begin. Lvant stayed on his flagship’s bridge for another two hours. Yet, nothing happened. Frustrated, Lvant assumed the enemy commanders were drawing up new plans, taking in all the intelligence they had gathered, and so retired to his quarters with orders to be alerted if anything changed.

An hour later, he was suddenly awoken by one of his officers. The Imperials were finally on the move. Except when Lvant got back to the bridge, all he saw was a squadron of fifty ships moving towards one of the system’s asteroid mining facilities. I guess they want to take their time about it, Lvant concluded. It made sense for the Imperial fleet to systematically take out his outlying forces if they were worried about being flanked by them, but the Imperials had enough ships to just forge ahead if they wanted.

Quickly, Lvant sent orders for the squadron defending the asteroid mining facility to pull back if the fight started to go against them. However, his orders weren’t needed, for after moving in and engaging his squadron at long range for just eight minutes, the Imperials were the ones who pulled back.

Lvant’s frustration grew. It had just been a probing attack. They are being very cautious, he thought, annoyed that his enemy wouldn’t just charge and impale themselves upon his hidden warships. But it matters not, Lvant encouraged himself. For the longer the Imperials took to launch their main attack, the more reinforcements were able to reach the system. Already, ten additional warships had jumped in, heeding his call for all combat capable ships in Rasmorse space to head to Farvul’vian. And if they really want to take their time, they can wait there until Vice Admiral Reverus gets here, then they will really see what the Eaglaton Protectorate can do.

Settling himself in for a longer battle, more akin to the one he had fought at Bastion, Lvant matched Admiral Becket move for move over the next twenty-four hours. As she sent probing squadrons or fighter wings against each of his positions, he fought them off without uncovering Farvul’vian or revealing his hidden ships. When one day turned into two and then three, Lvant’s anticipation started to grow. Becket had tested all his positions at least once. She now knew his capabilities, at least those he was willing to show to her. Her main attack had to come soon.

Yet, as the hours dragged on since the last movement from the enemy fleet, his frustration started to grow again. Apart from the screening squadrons that were keeping his scouts away from the heart of the Imperial fleet, the enemy capital ships were showing no sign of preparing for battle. Just what are they playing at? Lvant finally asked himself. The question pricked at something in his mind. For weeks before the Imperial fleet had arrived at Farvul’vian, he had been getting reports of multiple enemy squadrons and individual scout ships approaching his people’s borders from many angles. Slowly but surely the Imperial forces had pushed his scouts back. Lvant had assumed the wide area the Imperials had been operating in had been an attempt to mask their push on Farvul’vian. But, what if we weren’t their target? He found himself asking.

You utter fool, Lvant thought as the last vestige of hope that he could vindicate himself by defending his people’s colonies evaporated. He had spent so long focusing on keeping the enemy from finding his hidden ships that he hadn’t thought to confirm their true numbers! Nearly half of the imperial ships hadn’t moved once since they had entered the system. Including Becket’s flagship! She’s not even here, Lvant feared, almost certain he was correct.

“Deploy our hidden ships,” he ordered his Chief of Staff, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Admiral, what was that?” the officer replied.

“Deploy our hidden ships,” Lvant ordered, unable to keep the shame from his voice. “Once they are ready, we are breaking orbit. “I want the rest of our forces to rendezvous with us, we’re bringing them to battle… if they will stand and fight us.” He was sure they wouldn’t, but he had to hold on to something.

*

IS Kestrel, 26th April 2510 AD.

Jonathan awoke with a start. His COM unit was gently beeping at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“The Protectorate fleet is on the move, Captain,” Lydia said. “I think we’ll be getting new orders any moment.”

“On my way,” Jonathan replied. When he stepped onto the bridge, his eyes widened. “Where did all those ships come from?”

“They were hidden in low orbit behind the Protectorate orbital stations,” Lydia answered. “It’s a good thing we didn’t come here for a fight.”

“It certainly is,” Jonathan said as he moved to his command chair. Lvant’s additional three hundred ships would have crushed Davenport’s fleet, even if all her freighters really were capital ships.

“Orders coming in from Zeus now, Captain,” Abrahams informed Jonathan. “All ships are to turn with the flagship, we are jumping out.”

“Acknowledg the order,” Jonathan said. Until another time, he thought towards Lvant as Kestrel began to turn and the many freighters around her dropped their disguises. And on to our true target.

*

Citadel

Lvant cursed the enemy commander, whoever they were, as the Imperial ships fled and jumped out of the system. Then, he cursed himself for being made a fool again. Desperately, he wanted to give chase. A part of him thought that he could yet redeem himself. If you could catch up to the Imperial Fleet and bring it to battle, he would reverse the humiliation they had caused him. Given the Imperials had brought so many freighters, there was a good chance he would be able to do it. They would have to protect their slower supply ships or abandon them.

One thing stopped him. Admiral Becket. If she wasn’t with the fleet he had just seen jump out, then he was certain she was somewhere else. Somewhere he would not want her to be. In his mind, he could see all of his people’s colonies. To the galactic north of his position, three systems faced Conclave space. They had been staging grounds for the three fleets that he had sent to harass the Conclave species. If she hits any one of them, they could already have fallen, Lvant feared. And the two fleets that were on their way back from Conclave space would be cut off! “Get me the Captains of our fastest ships,” Lvant demanded as he turned to his Chief of Staff.

He needed to find out where Becket was as fast as possible, for with all the squadrons of ships she had swarming around his border, a cloak of darkness had descended around his people’s space and Becket could already be preparing to strike out of the shadows where he least expected it. Lvant cursed Becket this time, he could not allow her to invade Rasmorse colonies. Now, far more than just this honor was on the line! The lives of the civilians he had sworn to protect were in danger.

Chapter 17

The sad thing about war is that what may take a civilization or a world hundreds of years to build up, can be torn down within hours.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, Genese system, thirty light years to the galactic south of Farvul’vian, 26th April 2510 AD, (present time).

Though Admiral Becket had just five hundred warships arrayed around Trident, she had no concerns about what she was about to do. The Rasmorse border world of Genese was impressive. The colony itself looked to be home to about a hundred million Rasmorse, but where the system really shone was in its mining operations. Almost every asteroid belt and rocky moon or world in the system seemed to have extraction facilities working on them. In orbit around Genese itself, there were several huge stations. Given the number of freighters that were moving from them out to the various mining operations and back again, they had to be some kind of ore processing facilities. Whatever else the Genese system was to the Rasmorse, it had to account for a sizable portion of their mineral mining and refining capabilities.

Just the perfect target to hit, Becket thought to herself. We take this away from them, and maybe they’ll start to realize just how foolish starting a war with us was. And this will only be the beginning. For Eleneon, the Rasmorse homeworld, was just five systems away from Genese.

“Time to begin,” Becket said as she caught Albright’s attention. “Give Commodore Yumma his go orders.”

“Transmitting them now, Admiral,” Albright responded.

Moments later, ninety warships surged ahead of Trident and then winked out of existence as they jumped into shift space. They reappeared ten seconds later on the gravimetric plot as they accelerated into the Genese system. Their target was one of the large asteroid mining facilities. One lonely Protectorate destroyer defended the facility, and so unless the colony’s defense fleet came to its assistance, the facility would soon be destroyed. Becket expected the defense fleet to act, but if it didn’t, Yumma had orders to hit the next facility, and then the next.

“I think they’re taking the bait,” Albright said as new gravimetric signatures suddenly appeared from around Genese.

Sure enough, Trident’s computer quickly identified them as Protectorate warships. A total of two hundred of them settled onto a course that would allow them to intercept Yumma’s squadron, though not until after Yumma would be able to hit the mining facility. If the Protectorate commander expected Yumma to run, he was disappointed.

“An experienced commander should be wondering just what is going on,” Godwin commented.

Becket nodded. “I guess we’re about to find out the quality of the officers they post to worlds not on the frontline.” To any experienced commander, Yumma’s actions suggested that Yumma knew something the Protectorates didn’t, for there was no way her squadron could outfight the Protectorates. It made no sense then not to turn and flee, for destroying one asteroid mining facility was not worth losing all of Yumma’s ships.

For an hour however, neither Yumma nor the Protectorate force altered their headings. The only precaution the Protectorates took was to dispatch a small squadron of light ships to the shift passage Yumma’s ships had come from. They launched active recon drones to keep an eye out for any additional Imperial ships. What the light ships were supposed to do if they detected any however, Becket wasn’t sure.

“They have reached the point of no return,” Albright reported as the Protectorate fleet crossed over a designated line on the holo map.

“Then take us in,” Becket ordered.

Moments later, the fleet carried out its micro jump. Five hundred ships suddenly blinked into existence right in front of the Protectorate light ships. Fifty destroyers and frigates surged ahead of Trident flashing missiles at the Protectorates. Then, Trident and the rest of the Imperial capital ships began forward. Their noses were pointed straight at Genese. Becket intended to move in and destroy the colony’s battlestations and any orbital facilities that were a part of the Rasmorse’s military industrial complex.

If the Protectorate fleet wanted to turn and give battle, she would happily oblige, but they had now moved so far from Genese chasing Yumma, that they couldn’t beat her back to the colony. As per her orders, Yumma’s ships turned away from the asteroid mining facility as soon as Trident announced herself by beginning to accelerate. The Protectorate fleet seemed to hesitate. No doubt shocked by the appearance of such a powerful enemy fleet.

Eventually, after fifteen minutes, the Protectorates turned. Becket’s jaw lifted when she saw their course. They were going to try and intercept her ships. So be it, Becket thought towards her opponent. Whether someone on Genese had insisted on it, or the Protectorate commander himself had made the decision, the Protectorates were going to sacrifice themselves to try and blunt her attack. Just like at Ulan’nagn, Becket thought. Once again, she had to admit the Protectorates were not cowards.

But they aren’t holding out much hope of victory, Becket concluded as she turned her attention back to Genese. The colony’s orbitals were a hive of activity. Thousands of shuttles were taking off from the surface. It looked like they were filling every ship in orbit with what Becket guessed were people.

“They’re evacuating,” Godwin concluded as well. “Given the stories they’ve probably heard about us, I suppose I can’t blame them.”

Becket nodded. If her force had been a Flex-aor or Karacknid fleet bearing down on a Human world, it would look exactly the same. “We’ll just have to disabuse them of whatever they’ve heard,” Becket said. “After we take the system from them, of course,” she added as she shared a smile with Godwin.

“The fleet will assume formation Delta Three,” Becket ordered half an hour later as the Protectorate fleet grew closer. Around Trident, her five hundred warships formed up into a tight ball. Each ship would have little room for evasive maneuvers, but it would also force the enemy missiles to stick close together as they approached their targets. Two hundred and eighty fighters also launched from their carriers and moved ahead of the fleet. Rather than attack the Protectorates, however, they took up station to intercept as many enemy missiles as they could.

Recognizing their missiles were going to have a hard time overcoming the dense Imperial defensive fire, never mind the fire from the Imperial fighters, the Protectorates launched their own fighters. Ninety formed up into two groups and set off towards the Imperial fighters, intending to dive in on either flank of the Imperial formation. “Inform Wing Commander Endo he can detach his anti-fighter squadrons,” Becket ordered.

“Yes, Admiral,” Albright responded.

Seconds later, six squadrons of fighters broke away from their comrades in two groups. While the rest of the Imperial fighters were equipped with two fuel tanks to allow them to carry out as many high-g acceleration burns as needed to engage the enemy missiles, these carried two anti-fighter missiles each. Becket kept her eye on the three squadrons on the right flank. They were being led by Rogue squadron. As Becket expected, her friend didn’t disappoint.

Rogue squadron tore into the four enemy squadrons with abandon. Anti-fighter missiles nearly cut the enemy strength by a quarter, then deadly accurate fire from the Hellcats’ laser cannons took out eleven more. By the time both groups of fighters turned and a series of dogfights broke out, Rogue squadron and the other two squadrons backing them up had a significant numerical advantage. In just three minutes, every single enemy fighter was blown apart or turned tail and ran away. None managed to get close enough to attack the rest of Becket’s fighters.

Becket shook her head when she saw Rogue squadron hadn’t lost a single Hellcat. Seven other fighters had been lost, but none of her cousin’s squadron. She is learning to pass on her abilities to her pilots, Becket thought as she smiled. Georgia was an exceptional talent. That was partly why she had given her cousin the fleet’s best pilots to form Rogue squadron. The second was because of what she hoped she was now seeing. Most pilots didn’t stand a chance of matching Georgia’s skills, but if any could, her fellow Rogues could. Becket and Davenport had been hoping Georgia’s capabilities would begin to rub off on them. The evidence suggested it might just be happening.

Becket’s hopes were confirmed when she checked in on the squadrons of the other flank. They too had driven off the enemy force, but at a greater cost. They had almost lost twice as many fighters, and more of the enemy had managed to escape. But still a good victory, Becket thought as she reminded herself, she couldn’t expect everyone to match Rogue squadron’s achievements.

“Detecting missile launches,” Lieutenant Farnsworth reported.

“Alter our heading to nine, nine, four point two and return fire when in range,” Becket ordered. The Protectorate ships were trying to charge into close range, but she was not going to allow that.

Despite the Protectorates’ bravery and determination, the battle did not last long. The three thousand missiles of the first Protectorate salvo were reduced by over ten percent by the Imperial fighters. Point defensive fire from Becket’s ships took out every last one of the rest. In the second salvo, just four missiles were lucky enough to get close enough to detonate. Two of the four grazer beams they sent piercing towards the Imperial fleet found targets, but shields and armor deflected most of their destructive energy.

Becket’s first missile salvo caused far more damage. Twenty-two enemy ships were destroyed or fell out of formation, badly damaged. “Open a COM channel to them,” Becket requested, when her last missile detonated. “This is pointless,” she said as Godwin turned to her with a questioning look on his face.

“Channel open,” Lieutenant Rodgers informed her.

“Protectorate fleet, you have shown your courage,” Becket said sincerely. “But now, you see your salvos cannot cause us serious harm. Whilst every salvo we fire reduces the combat effectiveness of your force. This is only going to end one way. Surrender now, and avoid the needless loss of your people. If you surrender, you have my word I will release all of your crews onto the colony’s surface. You can save your lives and avoid becoming prisoners of war.”

Seconds passed with no response. Then more than a minute went by. Becket glanced at Rodgers. Her COM Lieutenant shook his head. Becket pressed her lips together. Her next salvo was just thirty seconds away from the Protectorate ships’ point defenses. If they weren’t going to surrender, she certainly wasn’t going to call off her attack. “Proceed,” she ordered as she turned to Farnsworth, who had been waiting with his finger on the self-destruct command for the missiles. He nodded and moved his hand away.

Two minutes later, large balls of blue antimatter bloomed in the midst of the Protectorate formation once again. Twenty-nine ships were destroyed or crippled. A quarter of the Protectorate force was already out of the fight. Still, they did not surrender. Once again, Becket gave them the chance to do so before her next salvo came in. “This is the last time I will give you this offer. Cut your engines and no more ships need die.”

The Protectorates refused, and so more of their ships were blown apart. Only one hundred and ten were able to fire a fourth volley. This time, they were their more powerful short-range missiles. Yet by the time Becket’s Hellcats and ships had engaged them, only twenty made it into attack range. Most scored hits, but their smaller warheads meant none of them caused enough damage to force a ship from the battle. In contrast, so many Imperial close-range missiles made it through the weakened Protectorate defensive fire, that almost every ship had at least three mark VII missiles targeting it. The lasers released by the bomb-pumped warheads savaged what was left of the Protectorate fleet.

“Come on, surrender!” Godwin said as everyone on Trident’s bridge watched the few ships that survived the onslaught try to form up with one another.

“It’s over,” Becket said quietly towards whoever was commanding the enemy fleet.

Yet, the Protectorates came on, nevertheless. A minute later, they fired what could only be described as a pitiful salvo, numbering just three hundred missiles. Then, the last salvo Becket had fired crashed into them. Becket didn’t understand their refusal to surrender. Even so, she didn’t order any of her missiles to self-destruct. As a result, every single one of the remaining Protectorate ships was wiped from existence as hundreds of laser beams struck each one.

“Demand that all their damaged ships surrender or suffer the same fate,” Becket said as soon as the last meager Protectorate salvo was dealt with. There was a long line of damaged and crippled Protectorate ships that had been left behind by their charging comrades. “If they won’t accept it, start taking them out one by one, but give each plenty or warning so it can be evacuated. And set course for Genese once again. Inform Commodore Yumma she can begin mopping up the outer system’s industrial nodes.”

To Becket’s relief, Albright only had to destroy one of the damaged Protectorate warships before the others started surrendering. Their example paved the way for the asteroid mining facility Yumma reached first, for its crew all abandoned their stations before they were blown up.

When Trident came into two-way communication range of Genese, she nodded to Rodgers who opened a COM channel. “People of Genese. My name is Admiral Becket of the Imperial Navy. Your leaders planned and attempted an unprovoked war of invasion against my species’ worlds. Now, you are suffering the consequences. I have no desire to occupy your planet’s surface or hurt your civilian population. Abandon all of your orbital facilities, and no one needs to get hurt. Resist, and you will be destroyed. You have between now and when my ships enter missile range to decide. Choose wisely.”

To no one’s surprise, as Trident came into range with her mark VII missiles, every orbital battlestation, and a good few other stations still had their active sensors powered to full, showing they were ready for a fight. One thousand enemy long-range missiles were soon fired from the battlestations as well. They posed no threat to Becket’s fleet as she once again deployed her fighters forward to take many of them out.

In just four salvos, every orbital battlestation was destroyed. Then, Becket started systematically destroying everything in orbit that looked like it could be used to support the Protectorate’s war effort. Whereas at Ulan’nagn she had tried to capture as many orbital stations intact as possible so her ships could retrofit them for their own use, she had no such plans here. She was under no illusions, there was no way she could hold the system for any length of time. Even with the steady stream of reinforcements that were coming to the theater through the Gift, Genese was simply too far away from her supply hubs to hold. Instead, she inflicted countless trillions of credits worth of damage onto the system.

When she was done, more than eighty percent of Genese’s orbital industries had been destroyed. So many large chunks of station began to fall into Genese’s orbit that Becket had to send several squadrons of fighters equipped with antimatter missiles forward to blast them into smaller parts so they would burn up in orbit. When the destruction was over, Becket dispatched two more squadrons to assist Yumma in taking out the rest of the system’s industrial nodes scattered across the many planetary bodies that had been built up. Finally, she sent several squadrons of fighters after the small flotillas of ships that had fled Genese hours ago. Any of the ships that were military ships or supply freighters were also to be destroyed.

That will send a message, Becket thought to herself as she surveyed all the damage her forces were doing. When word reached Lvant and the Rasmorse capital of what she had done, she hoped it would send them into a rage. And rush whatever forces they have nearby right towards us, she thought. By which time we will be long gone. Though not before we kick the hornets’ nest a little more.

Chapter 18

It is rare, but one can sometimes find the truest of friends in the midst of a war, even from among the ranks of your enemy.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Genese system, (one hour later).

“Freighter currently accelerating at 7.8gs directly ahead, cut your engines now and prepared to be scanned for war materials,” Georgia ordered as she flashed the freighter with her Hellcat’s laser COM array. “Repeat, cut your engines or I will be forced to open fire. I will not warn you again.”

Thankfully, so far, Georgia hadn’t had to fire on any of the seven ships she had intercepted, but several other pilots had been forced to. By now, the hundreds of Rasmorse ships fleeing Genese knew what ignoring orders from the Imperial fighters meant. Still, several had tried and failed to escape.

When the freighter in question didn’t immediately cut its engines, Georgia gunned hers and then flicked a switch to power up her active sensors. She got a target lock on the freighter’s engines and sent it to one of the two antimatter warheads her Hellcat was carrying. It immediately powered up its targeting sensors and locked onto the freighter as well. Her actions had the desired effect. At once, the freighter cut its engines.

“Human fighter, we are a civilian ship, it is piracy to attack us!” an angry voice said on the same COM channel Georgia had spoken to the freighter on.

“If you truly are a civilian ship, then you have nothing to fear,” Georgia replied calmly. “I’m coming in to scan you now, keep your engines off and any weapons or sensors you have powered down. If we detect any hostile actions, we will shoot first and ask questions later.” With a flick of her finger, Georgia switched COM channels. “Rogue Two, I’m going in for a scan. Cover me.”

“Sure thing, Rogue One, one sign of trouble and I’ll blast them,” Rogue Two replied.

Gripping her flight stick more securely, Georgia took her Hellcat in towards the freighter. She carried out a few spirals and random evasive maneuvers, just in case someone was planning to fire on her. When she was just twenty kilometers away, she levelled out and powered up her active sensors to full again. Energy from multiple bands of the electromagnetic spectrum washed over the freighter, giving Georgia’s Hellcat plenty of data to sift through.

Within seconds, her console beeped at her, informing her it had something. Georgia flashed the freighter with her laser COM array again. “Rasmorse freighter, I’m detecting multiple pockets of fissionable materials in your cargo holds consistent with thermonuclear warheads. You are carrying a shipment of missiles. You have four minutes to abandon ship before I destroy it.” Tapping on her console, Georgia sent the coordinates of four other ships she had already scanned and allowed to continue on their journey out of the system. “You can launch your shuttles and board one of these ships, or fly back to Genese where you will be allowed to land on the planet’s surface. The choice is yours, but either way, you must get off that freighter.”

As soon as she was done warning them, Georgia turned her fighter away from the freighter and gunned its engines, just in case an angry crew member decided to fire on her. When she joined up with Rogue Two, a shuttle was already taking off from the freighter. “I guess they’re bark is worse than their bite,” Rogue Two said, “They didn’t even try to complain.”

“That’s fine with me,” Georgia replied. “Arguing with hostile alien freighter Captains is not what I signed up to the fleet to do.”

“No, but it is fun, is it not, Flight Leader? At least, when we’re the ones pointing the antimatter missiles,” Rogue Two said as he let out a chuckle.

Georgia shook her head. As she was the one who was having to do most of the talking with the different alien ships they were interdicting, she didn’t exactly agree. “You take it,” she ordered Rogue Two when the four minutes passed, and no other shuttles took off from the freighter.

Seconds later, an antimatter missile streaked away from Rogue Two. In ten seconds, it crossed the distance to the freighter. Striking the ship right on its center line, the missile’s tungsten tip allowed it to punch through several decks before it exploded. Antimatter ate away more than half of the freighter from the inside out. It then broke apart, releasing the rest of its cargo into space. The freighter and its cargo could no longer be used by the Protectorates in their war against Humanity.

Pausing for a second to confirm the freighter’s shuttle was indeed heading to one of the nearby ships Georgia had cleared, she then began to scan the area for new targets. As soon as she spotted the nearest ship that hadn’t been checked by the several squadrons of fighters that were making their way through the fleeing ships, she sent the coordinates to Rogue Two and gunned her engines.

Less than thirty seconds after turning towards the next target, its energy readings suddenly spiked. Seconds later, it surged forward. Georgia’s eyebrows rose. She had thought the ship a small freighter, but it was clearly more. “Looks like we’ve got a live one,” she said to Rogue Two. “Keep your guard up.”

Focusing her sensors in on the target, Georgia confirmed that it certainly was more than a freighter. The power readings from its twin reactors looked more like something she might see from a customs patrol ship in the Sol system, or even an Imperial Navy corvette. Just as telling were the ship’s sleek lines. A pleasure yacht, Georgia guessed, or at least the Rasmorse equivalent. The ship was built to go fast, not carry cargo. “Fleeing ship,” she said as she flashed the contact with her laser COM array. “Cut your engines until we can scan you. If you are not carrying naval supplies, you will be free to go on your way.”

“Another energy spike!” Rogue Two called out.

Georgia instinctively threw her fighter into a corkscrew. Yet, no fire came their way. Instead, a very powerful active scanner came online. The yacht then bathed Georgia and Rogue Two in copious amounts of active scans.

“I don’t like the feel of this,” Rogue Two said.

“Me neither,” Georgia agreed. “Keep up the maneuvers.”

Sure enough, within a couple of seconds, two of the yacht’s hull sections retracted, each revealing a small laser cannon. Immediately, they began to fire off energy beams at Georgia and Rogue Two. Georgia ground her teeth together. “Stay here,” she ordered. Then, she slipped into her hyperfocused trance and charged in after the yacht.

It didn’t take long for the yacht’s gunners to realize which enemy fighter was the real threat and soon, both cannons focused on Georgia. Even so, dodging their fire was child’s play for the leader of Rogue Squadron. As she threw her fighter into evasive maneuver after maneuver, she could almost predict exactly where each beam from the cannons would go. Twice her shields flared, but they only marked where laser beams had grazed past them. None of the hundreds of beams came close to scoring a direct hit.

As Georgia came right up behind the yacht, she cut her evasive maneuvers just long enough to fire off two quick shots with her own laser cannons. Both of the yacht’s laser cannons were blasted from its hull. Georgia opened her mouth to order the yacht to stop again. She didn’t get any words out, however. Instead, she baulked as two larger hull sections of the yacht began to retract. Each moved away to show a Protectorate fighter clamped to the yacht’s inner hull. Two small gas explosions thrust the fighters away from the yacht. Immediately, their engines kicked in and they spun around to charge at Georgia.

Georgia didn’t have time to think, she reacted on instinct. Two taps on her main trigger fired off an anti-ship missile at each of the fighters, then she pulled up and away from them and the yacht. The missiles bought her a couple of seconds to regain her wits. Quickly though, hundreds of lasers began to zip past her, telling her both enemy fighters had dodged the missiles. “Rogue Two, I’m going to need you,” she called out to her wingman.

“Already on it,” Rogue Two replied. “Take them toward the star.”

Georgia whipped her fighter around and did as she was told. The electromagnetic energy from the star would reduce the Protectorate fighters’ ability to obtain a targeting lock. Even so, they relentlessly kept flinging laser beams at her. For twenty seconds Georgia put her Hellcat through every evasive maneuver she knew. Sweat began to run down her back. Then, seemingly from nowhere, two objects streaked past her cockpit. They were followed two seconds later by a larger object she recognized as Rogue Two. He had fired his two anti-fighter missiles, and his laser cannons were streaming energy at the Protectorate fighters.

Even as she kept up her evasive maneuvers, Georgia turned her attention to her rear sensors. One of her pursuers was blown apart by a missile just as her eyes settled onto it. The second jinked just in the nick of time to dodge the missile targeting it. Yet laser beams zipped all around it until several struck home in quick succession. In the space of just three seconds, Rogue Two had blown them both away.

“Good shooting!” Georgia called out in relief. “Two fighters were the last thing I was expecting.”

“It was nothing, Rogue One,” Rogue Two replied. “All in a day’s work.”

“Right, well let’s go and pay this yacht a second visit, shall we?” Georgia suggested.

“That only sounds fair,” Rogue Two said.

Turning the nose of her fighter back towards the fleeing yacht, Georgia focused her active sensors on it once again. It didn’t take long for Rogue Two to slot in beside her. Both of them then lit up the yacht with their targeting sensors. Despite their implied threat, the yacht didn’t show any signs of slowing. Georgia sighed as she keyed her COM unit. “Rasmorse space yacht. Cut your engines now, or we will open fire on you. You have ten seconds.”

Slowly, Georgia began to count down in her head. She had her flight stick gripped firmly in case the yacht had any more surprises. None came. However, neither did the yacht slow. Georgia frowned. Something was going on. There had to be someone or something pretty important on the yacht. “Switching to laser cannons,” she informed Rogue Two, choosing not to simply wipe the yacht from existence with one of her antimatter missiles.

With a tap on her console, Georgia cut the strength of her laser cannons in half. Carefully, she then lined her sights up on the left of the yacht’s two impulse engines. Though the yacht was trying to carry out its own evasive maneuvers, lining up the shot was child’s play compared to trying to shoot down a Protectorate fighter. Squeezing her trigger for just a fraction of a second fired four beams at the engine. All four hit. The engine didn’t explode, but it immediately stopped putting out thrust. The yacht was thrown into a wobble as its other engine kept accelerating, then its flight computer compensated for the loss of the engine.

Georgia already had her sights on the next engine, and so as soon as the wobble stopped, she fired again. This time, the engine exploded as it was hit. The force of the explosion threw the yacht into a wild spin. For a second, Georgia thought it was going to break apart, but then maneuvering thrusters began to stabilize it. For several minutes, Georgia watched the yacht to make sure it was definitely not going to be blown apart by secondary explosions. Then, she got a careful reading on where its momentum was taking it and sent the data back to Trident. One of the search and rescue shuttles would have to be sent to search the yacht and see just what had caused them to try and run. You should have listened, she thought towards whoever was on the yacht. Then, she dismissed them from her mind as she turned and began to look for her next target.

Before she could select one, a number of voices began speaking over the Wing’s COM channel at once. “New contacts!” a pilot from Green Squadron called out.

“Enemy fighters approaching,” Green Leader’s more reserved voice said.

“I’m under fire!” Lightning One reported, strain evident on his voice. “Where did they come from?” he demanded.

Georgia was asking the very same question as she stared at the feed from her gravimetric sensors. Twenty new contacts had appeared as if from nowhere. They were racing into the system through the fleeing Rasmorse ships, engaging the strung-out Imperial fighters. That they were fighters was obvious from their speed and maneuverability. Yet the drive signatures her sensors were picking up did not match the Protectorate fighters they had encountered before.

“Rogue squadron, there’s no time to form up. Advance on the newcomers in your flights,” Georgia ordered as she turned towards the new threat and boosted her engines to full. She then switched COM channels to get in contact with the nearest Imperial warship. “This is Rogue One requesting recon drone sent to my vicinity. Enemy fighters have just appeared from thin air. There must be a carrier out here somewhere.”

“Affirmative, Rogue One, we see them. Our Commodore is dispatching ships and drones to your location,” a COMs officer responded.

“Thanks,” Georgia said as she switched back to her flight’s COM channel. “Alright, we’ve got two minutes before contact,” she said to the three other pilots of her flight. “Let’s gather as much intel on these new fighters as we can.”

“Copy that,” Rogue Three replied.

As her fighter rushed towards the developing battle, Georgia’s fingers twitched. The twenty newcomers were ripping into the exposed Imperial fighters that had been closest to their position. Already, two fighters from Green Squadron had been destroyed, and eight other Imperials were fighting for their lives. The rest of Green squadron and six more fighters from Lightning squadron would reach the fight before Georgia’s Hellcat, but she wasn’t sure how many of them would still be alive when they got there.

They are good, Georgia couldn’t help but conclude as she watched the desperate fighting. Both the new fighters and their pilots were impressing her. The fighters weren’t revolutionarily different from standard Protectorate fighters, but their agility was a step ahead. Moreover, their pilots were handling them expertly. The result was devastating for the outnumbered Imperial fighters, for after firing their anti-fighter missiles, they found themselves at a serious disadvantage.

In the space of just over one hundred seconds, Georgia watched seven more Imperial fighters be shot down while only taking two enemies with them. Her teeth ground together as she willed her fighter on as fast as she could. “Fire at long range,” she told her four pilots. “Take them with laser as they try to dodge the missiles.”

“Take that!” she screamed as she followed her own orders, firing her two anti-ship missiles as soon as she could. With a roar, she followed one missile in after an enemy fighter. Right away, she knew the pilot was good, for he dodged one way and then another at precisely the right time to throw off the missile. As soon as she lined the fighter up on her crosshairs, she held down her trigger. The first few beams shot wide. Alerted to the new danger, the enemy pilot threw his fighter into a corkscrew. Judging where he was going to pull out of it, Georgia turned her nose and held down the trigger again.

She grunted as several beams dissected the enemy ship. Then, she let out a yelp of surprise. The beams had caused a multicolored flaring around the fighter, but it remained intact. “They have shields!” she shouted.

Just as she spoke, her own shields flared. Tens of beams enveloped her even as she did her best to dodge. “Break right, Rogue One!” Rogue Two shouted. Georgia didn’t hesitate. Flinging her flight stick over, she rolled to her right. Seconds later, two enemy fighters whooshed through where she had been, their laser cannons spitting more deadly beams.

Georgia turned her flight stick over again to turn and slot in behind them. “I’m with you, Flight Leader,” Rogue Two said as his Hellcat moved up beside Georgia.

“Hold fire until we have a kill shot,” she ordered.

Though they didn’t fire on their quarry, the enemy pilots were somehow alerted to the presence, for they began to carry out an intricate series of evasive maneuvers. It took every ounce of Georgia’s skill to stay with them. In her periphery vision, she saw Rogue Two was falling behind, unable to keep up. Twice Georgia almost got the rear enemy fighter in her sights, but at the last moment another maneuver took him away. Then, to her horror, the two Protectorate fighters suddenly came up behind Rogues Three and Four.

“Enemy fighters on your six, Rogue Three,” Georgia called out.

“Hold on, Rogue Leader, we have one in our sights,” Rogue Three replied.

“Negative, Rogue Three, these guys are good. Break away!” Georgia ordered.

Rogues Three and Four started firing at almost the same time the Protectorate fighter Georgia was pursuing did. Georgia desperately switched targets and peppered the lead Protectorate fighter with laser beams. It was to no avail, they all missed. The Protectorate fighter did not. Just a fraction of a second after Rogues Three and Four blew away the fighter they were attacking, several laser beams hit Rogue Three, burnt down her shield, and melted her fighter to slag.

Georgia swore in frustration. At the same time, the two Protectorate fighters split apart, one broke right and one left. Full of anger, Georgia swung her fighter after the enemy that had killed Rogue Three.

“Second Flight joining the battle,” Rogue Five announced over the squadron COM channel.

“Third Flight forty seconds out,” Rogue Nine updated.

Georgia didn’t acknowledge either of them. Her vision had narrowed down to just the one enemy fighter right in front of her. Despite having the more maneuverable craft, Georgia matched him maneuver for maneuver. Twice he flashed in front of her crosshairs, and she sent streams of laser beams after him. The second time, she managed to make his shield flare. Next time, he’s mine, she told herself.

However, as she continued the chase, she began to feel something else through her anger. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Sensing something was wrong, Georgia tried to calm herself. It only partially worked. Yet it was enough for her to start to think more clearly. In her mind, she replayed the enemy fighter’s last several maneuvers. He’s baiting me! Georgia suddenly realized. She recognized it for it was similar to something she and Rogue Two had practiced.

This time, Georgia cursed herself for allowing Rogue Two to fall behind. Without her wingmate, she was vulnerable. But I know what they’re trying now, Georgia thought with a smile. For another ten seconds, Georgia continued chasing the enemy fighter, firing pot shots at it as she got a chance. Then, as if in desperation, the fighter pulled up into a tight loop. Georgia followed, but only for two seconds. Trusting her instincts, she broke back down just fractions of a second before a hail of laser beams crossed her path. Judging where the Protectorate fighter’s wingmate was attacking from, Georgia swung her nose towards where he was about to fly through.

As the Protectorate fighter flew past her, it was so close Georgia could make it out with her own eyes. Her attention was immediately drawn to the insignia on both of the fighter’s wings. It was some kind of flying feathered animal. With sharp claws and teeth, it looked as if it was diving down onto whatever it hunted. Eaglaton fighters! Georgia realized, remembering the images of Commodore Gifosous her brother had shared with her.

Even as she realized who she was fighting, Georgia squeezed her trigger, sending fifty laser beams flashing towards the enemy fighter. They crossed the short distance quicker than Georgia or the enemy pilot could comprehend. One moment, the fighter was there and the next, it was nothing more than an expanding ball of debris. “Take that!” Georgia shouted for Rogue Three.

Not satisfied with just one kill, however, she spun her fighter around, looking for the wingmate of the Protectorate she had just killed. Frustration and relief hit her at the same time when she found it. The Eaglaton fighter was retreating, along with its comrades. As Georgia became more aware of her surroundings, she realized why. The rest of Rogue, Green and Lightning squadrons had joined the fight. Two other squadrons were closing in as well.

And maybe they’ve accomplished their mission, Georgia concluded when she saw the long trail of Protectorate ships that were still rushing towards the system’s mass shadow and the safety of shift space. She had just burnt a sizable portion of her fuel. There was no way she could chase the freighters and civilian ships down now.

“Rogue Squadron, I’m afraid we’re done here. Form up on me and let’s return to Archimedes,” Georgia ordered. “When we get there, we’re going to go over every piece of data on these newcomers and see if we can’t get an edge over them. I fear that’s not the last we will see of them.”

Chapter 19

In war one should never be eager for battle, but when it comes, one should not flee from it.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Archimedes, Genese system.

Two hours later, Georgia found herself in a holo conference with Admiral Becket’s Captains, Flight Leaders, and senior commanders. After reviewing their battle and the preparations for occupying Genese’ orbitals, Becket turned to what she planned to do next. This was when Georgia sat up in her office chair.

“We have taken this system to get the Protectorate’s attention and to draw as many of their forces here as possible,” Becket said as she put up a map of local space on a holo display everyone could see. “It will likely take a couple of weeks for news of our attack to reach Farvul’vian and whatever forces the Rasmorse have stationed at their capital. I plan to stay here that long at least, so that any forces that are dispatched against us will hear we are still here as they head in this direction.

“That means we have the opportunity to cause a little more havoc.” Becket paused as she flashed her officers a smile. A tap on the holo display caused several systems near Genese to start flashing. “All of these systems are within nine days’ travel. I therefore intend to hit them all.”

Georgia’s eyes widened, but then she found herself sporting a similar smile to the one Becket had just shown. They were going to stir up a hornet’s nest if they did as much damage to each of the highlighted systems as they had done to Genese.

“Most of our strength will remain here, to keep the system in our hands so that our line of retreat isn’t cut off. But, we will be dispatching powerful squadrons forward to raid each of these systems. My Chief of Staff should be sending you all your updated orders as we speak.”

Georgia felt her datapad vibrate and so quickly pulled it out. She smiled again when she saw Archimedes and another pocket carrier were to form the main strike force of a small squadron that would be hitting two of the systems.

“There is one concerning development I want you all to remain aware of,” Becket said after pausing for several seconds to allow everyone to check their new assignments. “Flight Leader Somerville, you have had more time to assess the brief engagement you had with the fighters that attacked you, have your conclusions changed?”

Georgia had to clear her throat; she hadn’t been expecting to be asked to speak at the meeting. “Ah, no, Admiral, they have not. The capabilities and insignia on the fighters suggest they were from a more capable wing of the Protectorate’s Navy. Given we know Eaglaton warships are superior to regular Protectorate ships, I believe these fighters to be of Eaglaton design as well.”

Becket nodded. “In that case, we must all be very careful. If there are Eaglaton fighters in this sector, then there may be other Eaglaton ships as well. It may be that these fighters have been stationed in the sector from before the beginning of the war, or they may be a part of a new force entering the sector. In either case, if there are more Eaglatons out there, our raiding squadrons are not to engage them unless we have a significant advantage. The same goes for engaging the defenders of any of the systems we are going to hit. We are here to draw the enemy’s forces here so we can strike elsewhere. If we lose too many ships, all of our other efforts will be for nothing. Does everyone understand?”

Heads all around Georgia nodded and she followed suit. She desperately wanted to pit herself against the new fighters once again to put her skills to the test, but she understood the importance of putting the mission first.

“Good,” Becket said firmly. “Then you are all dismissed, your senior commanders will brief you more before our raiding squadrons depart.”

Georgia reached forward to switch off her holo COM, but a thought made her hesitate. Sitting back again, she tried to catch Becket’s eye. As more and more Captains and flag officers disappeared from the holo conference, Becket eventually looked up to find Georgia staring at her. “Was there something else, Flight Leader?” Becket asked formally, as there were still other officers who could hear them. Most quickly disappeared when they realized they might not be welcome in a private chat between the Admiral and the second-in-line to the Imperial throne.

“Yes, I’m sorry to take your time, Admiral,” Georgia said slowly. “I was just wondering; did we get any useful intel from that civilian ship that tried to get away from Rogue Two and I?”

Becket turned to her Chief of Staff and raised an eyebrow. “Actually, we did, Admiral,” Albright said. “I was planning on briefing you when we were done here. We have made quite the find. One of the passengers is a Rasmorse Councilor. One of the hundred elected officials that sits on their main governing body in their capital.”

Georgia let out a whistle. “That explains why they were so desperate to get away.”

“Where is this Councilor now?” Becket asked.

“She is being transported to Trident now, Admiral, I thought you’d like to speak to her yourself,” Albright replied.

Becket nodded. “That would be interesting. We may get more of an insight into why this war was started in the first place.” Becket turned back to Georgia. “Good work, Flight Leader. If nothing else, this Councilor may prove to be a useful bargaining chip. Now, off you go and see if you can’t cause a little more mayhem.”

“Aye, Admiral, it will be my pleasure,” Georgia said as she smiled at Becket and gave her an enthusiastic salute. As soon as the holo COM switched off in her office, Georgia jumped to her feet to bring the good news to the rest of her pilots. It seemed they were about to see a bit more action before the fleet would be pulling out.

*

IS Archimedes, Dorsim system, 30th April 2510 AD, (four days later).

As Archimedes jumped out of shift space into the Dorsim system, Georgia was already in her Hellcat, ready for an immediate launch. The data from the pocket carrier’s sensors and the stealth recon drones launched into the system were fed to her console, and so she was able to watch along with Archimedes’ Captain as they discovered what they were up against. Captain, or now Commodore Maverick, as he had been temporarily promoted to command the raiding squadron, had a COM channel open to Georgia. As the Senior Flight Leader among the four squadrons from Archimedes and her sister ship Pythagoras, Georgia had also been bumped up to hold the rank of Wing Commander for the second time in her career.

“What do you think, Wing Commander?” Maverick asked. “It looks like a tough nut to crack.”

Georgia considered her response. While there didn’t appear to be any Protectorate ships patrolling the system’s shift passages, there were about twenty in orbit around the planet. Of more concern were the fifteen battlestations. Every one of them was easy to make out, for their active sensors were flooding space around the only inhabited planet in the system with electromagnetic radiation. Clearly, word had reached them of what had happened to Genese.

Against the Protectorates, Maverick commanded a force of two pocket carriers, one battlecruiser, eight medium and light cruisers, and twenty destroyers and frigates. Georgia was sure they could take the Protectorate ships in a straight-up fight. But, the battlestations significantly tipped the odds in the Protectorate’s favor. That was, unless Georgia’s fighters could take them out. She shook her head even as she considered it. The defensive fire from the warships would overwhelm her fighters, and she thought it very unlikely they’d be able to lure the warships away from the colony to give her an opening to attack.

Something else caught her attention, though. “I think we’ll have to pass on hitting the colony,” she eventually replied to Maverick. “We’d take too many losses. But, look at these freighters here,” she said as she highlighted a group of ships. It looked like they were frantically loading cargo. “It looks like they are keen to get out of here. They’re likely wanting to get whatever cargo they have to safety. I’d say whatever it is, it might be something worth taking out of their hands.”

“I’m not sure we have the time,” Maverick replied. “They could take another day or two to finish loading for all we know. We can’t wait here for that.”

“No,” Georgia agreed. “But maybe we could convince them to hurry things along. If we move the fleet into the inner system, they’ll never break orbit for fear we could pounce on them. But, what if you take the squadron to hit the outer system mining operations? That’s probably all the damage we can do anyway. However, it might also convince the freighters that if they are going to run, it is now or never, for who knows how many additional ships might be coming in behind us?”

“That could work,” Maverick replied. “We launch you here, and you slowly cruise into an intercept position. But, what if they send warships with the freighters?”

“Then we take them out if we can, and if we can’t, you can swing back around and pick us up when you’re done and we move on to the next system,” Georgia answered. When Maverick didn’t immediately reply, she guessed what he was worried about. “I’d suggest I only take Rogue and Swift squadrons. That way, you still have some fighters in case you encounter any surprises, and you can launch them to hit your targets to convince the freighters all your fighters are with the carriers.”

“That will leave you with a small force,” Maverick said. “If you encounter any problems, you may not be able to escape.”

“Don’t worry, Commodore, I heard Admiral Becket’s warning. If we encounter a force too strong, we will simply run for it. Don’t forget, our Hellcats are still the fastest craft in this war.”

“All right, you’ve won me over. Let’s start making the arrangements. And I want your squadrons to take an extra fuel tank as well, just in case we can’t get back to you right away,” Maverick added.

“That’s ok with me,” Georgia said, not wanting to get stranded any more than Maverick wanted to be responsible for leaving the Emperor’s daughter stuck on her own behind enemy lines.

Twenty minutes later, Rogue and Swift squadrons launched from Archimedes. They didn’t power up their small reactors or engines. Instead, they used the momentum from their launch tubes to take them into the system. Maverick waited ten more minutes to let them get clear before his squadron powered up their engines and began to accelerate away from the shift passage. They settled onto a course for a small gaseous planet at the edge of the system. The Protectorates had a large built-up gas mining and processing facility in orbit around the planet. Yet, it was only defended by a handful of ships and one defense station.

Georgia’s passive sensors were able to detect the Protectorate warships breaking orbit from the colony. They started moving towards the gaseous planet, but twenty minutes later, slowed again. Someone had obviously thought better of trying to engage Maverick’s squadron. Instead, a flurry of activity started in orbit around the gaseous world. Tens of shuttles began to speed back and forth from the orbital stations to the nearby warships and freighters.

Half an hour later, their purpose became clear when the warships and freighters began to move away from the planet. They’re abandoning the facilities, Georgia realized. That will make things easier for Maverick. Sure enough, as the Protectorate ships raced towards Dorsim, Maverick destroyed the orbital facilities with two long-range missile salvos. He then turned his squadron towards Dorsim and began to accelerate. Though his ships were three hours away from the colony, it was clear what he intended. At least, what he wanted the Protectorates to think he intended.

Now, we’ll see, Georgia thought as she sat forward in her flight seat. If any of the Protectorates were going to try and make a run for any of the system’s shift passages, now was the time. Nothing happened at first, but after several slow minutes where Georgia started to doubt herself, her passive sensors started to detect something. A bunch of freighters were coming out of Dorsim’s orbit. At the same time, six warships were breaking away from the main Protectorate squadron and heading back towards the colony.

Over the course of an hour, Georgia watched as the freighters moved away from the colony, were joined by the four warships, and then set course for the shift passage that she knew would take them towards the Rasmorse’s homeworld. Having predicted that was their likely destination, Georgia didn’t need to do anything to alter the course of her fighters. Their momentum was already taking them on a heading that would cross the freighters’ path.

The only decision she had to make was, just how committed was her attack going to be? The presence of the four Protectorate warships complicated things slightly. Each was a destroyer and, assuming the freighters had their own limited point defenses, it meant she couldn’t take out the entire convoy in one attack. Each of her twenty-three Hellcats carried two antimatter missiles. Assuming the Protectorates might shoot down up to half of them, she didn’t have enough missiles to take out every enemy ship. What she could do was use the missiles on the Protectorate warships, try to take them out, then swoop in and engage the freighters with her fighter’s laser cannons.

Georgia considered such an attack for several seconds, but quickly dismissed it. If she didn’t manage to destroy all four Protectorate warships, she wouldn’t be able to launch a second attack. And even if she did, getting so close to the freighters would give their gunners a good chance to shoot more of her pilots down. We’re meant to be conserving our strength, she reminded herself.

Tapping her console, Georgia activated her laser COM array. It connected with the nearest Hellcats to her left and right, which in turn connected to the next fighters in line from them. “Here’s the plan, pilots,” Georgia said. “We can’t take them all, so we’ll do what damage we can. We’ll charge into extreme missile range, fire and then bug out. Ignore the warships, target every missile at those freighters. Whatever they’re carrying, the Protectorates clearly don’t want us getting our hands on them. So, let’s see how many we can take out.” Georgia paused as she glanced down at the holo image of the space around her Hellcat. “We’ll go active in three minutes. Sending our flight path to you all now.”

With a tap of her console, Georgia sent the attack vector she had worked out. Moments later, a series of clicks came across the COM channel as each pilot acknowledged receiving the course. “Good luck out there,” she said before cutting the COM channel.

When the time came to engage her engines, Georgia tapped her Hellcat’s autopilot to give it permission to come out of stealth. At the same time, the other twenty-two Hellcats in her attack force came online as well. Immediately boosting to full acceleration, they charged in towards the Protectorate convoy. With a reasonable starting momentum, and far higher acceleration rates than the freighters could put out, there was no time for the Protectorates to escape.

Instead, the four warships did something Georgia hadn’t anticipated. Turning away from the freighters, they moved towards Georgia’s fighters. Quickly, Georgia did some calculations. She grimaced when she saw what they told her. Even with the extra fuel tank, her fighters didn’t have enough fuel to try looping up high and around the warships to attack the freighters from a different angle. At least, if she wanted to have enough fuel left to at least start her fighters towards the prearranged rendezvous point.

“Rogue squadron, stay with me. Swifts, you are to slow and hold back. We’ll clear the warships and give you a run at the freighters,” Georgia ordered.

You’ve got this, she told herself as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Engaging the small number of Protectorate warships was something she and her pilots had practiced hundreds of times over the last months.

When the enemy ships opened fire with their point defenses, Georgia had already slipped into her focused state. Every Hellcat in Rogue squadron was weaving and twisting, just as she had taught them. For sixty seconds, they flew through almost every laser beam the Protectorate destroyers hurled at them. The only hits that were scored were absorbed by shields. Then, as soon as their targeting sensors beeped, twenty-two missiles were shot out into space from the Hellcats.

The Protectorates immediately switched their fire to the missiles. As the missiles got closer to the destroyers, they became easier targets. Nearly half were shot down. But, all it took was one hit, and enough missiles made it through the defensive fire to ensure each destroyer suffered exactly that. Georgia let out a whoop when she saw one of her two missiles strike the lead destroyer. Antimatter ate away nearly a third of its nose. Seconds later, the destroyer appeared to lose power. Two large explosions right after one another signaled the death of two more of the destroyers. The fourth split in two, debris and atmosphere tumbling out of each half.

“Over to you, Swifts,” Georgia said, full of elation that she hadn’t lost one fighter from her squadron.

As Swift squadron moved in towards the twenty-nine Protectorate freighters, every one of the Protectorate ships opened up with point defensive weapons. Each single freighter wasn’t particularly well-armed, but together, they put out a decent amount of defensive fire. Georgia winced when one of Swift squadron’s Hellcats disappeared in a small explosion. But then, the rest were firing their missiles. As the freighters turned to trying to shoot down the missiles, the rest of Swift squadron made their escape.

Soon, antimatter blooms began to erupt in the midst of the convoy. Georgia counted twelve freighters suffering hits. Every hit crippled or destroyed its target. For a second, Georgia considered reforming her two squadrons and charging into laser cannons range. Yet with more than ten freighters left, they would still be able to put out quite a lot of defensive fire. Whatever those freighters are designed to carry, they are well armed for it, Georgia said to herself. She tried to get a good scan of the damaged freighters to try and make out what their cargoes had been. Yet there was too much damage to be sure. Whatever they were carrying would have to remain a mystery.

“All right pilots, reform on me,” Georgia said over the attack wing’s COM channel. “Let’s head to the rendezvous coordinates. That was a well-fought attack. Good flying everyone.”

“You guys did the hard work, Rogue One. Next time we’ll take the warships,” Swift One replied.

“If you insist,” Georgia said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to rob you of the opportunity to rack up a few more kills.”

“Let’s hope there are more targets of opportunity in the next system then,” Swift One replied.

Georgia nodded. In the time it had taken her fighters to catch up to and attack the Protectorate convoy, Maverick had already taken out a couple of other mining facilities in the outer system. Apart from the colony itself, there was now nothing left in the Dorsim system for them to strike at.

Now, just you stay put, she thought towards the Protectorate warships that were in high orbit around Dorsim. If the system’s garrison decided to try and follow them to their next target, things would get interesting, but the garrison had to assume there were more Imperial warships coming behind Maverick’s squadron. They couldn’t just abandon the colony and leave it open to attack. At least, that’s what Georgia and Maverick were gambling on.

Chapter 20

There is no greater honor than to sacrifice oneself for one’s friends

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Archimedes, 4th May 2510 AD, (four days later).

As Archimedes jumped into the next system Admiral Becket had assigned for them to raid, Georgia was once again in the cockpit of her Hellcat, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. When her sensor feed updated to show the system, she was disappointed to see things were very similar to the last system they had hit. This time, there were two inhabited worlds in the system, the worlds of Racnis and Racrous. Both worlds had garrisons of about twenty-five warships and several battlestations. Either was too powerful for Maverick’s squadron to attack. They would have to content themselves with destroying what unguarded facilities were spread throughout the rest of the system.

However, Maverick wasn’t willing to give up just so easily. In an effort to lure out either of the garrisons, Maverick charged towards the first one, and then the second inhabited world, hoping the garrisons of either would break orbit and come to their comrade’s aide. Neither did. Next, Maverick split his squadron up into smaller units, offering tempting targets for the garrisons to come out and try and engage. Yet they still didn’t take the bait. Finally, after nearly four hours of maneuvers, Maverick accepted they would have to content themselves with destroying less important targets like asteroid mining facilities.

Half an hour later, and Georgia launched with one flight of fighters from Rouge Squadron and another from Swift. They formed up and set off towards what looked like a rare element extraction operation built on a moon of the system’s fifth planet. Instead of their usual antimatter warheads, each Hellcat carried thermonuclear warheads, not wanting to negate half of the moon and send the rest careening into the fifth planet with their attack.

After rolling her shoulders, Georgia squished herself back into her flight seat. She had a four-hour flight ahead of her, and so wanted to get comfortable. To pass the time, she pulled up a few reports to read through, as well as a novel she had been working her way through. Every few minutes, she stopped reading to check on her other seven fighters to make sure they were still in formation. While she trusted each Hellcat’s automatic pilot, being the one in charge of the attack, she felt she needed to make sure.

Three hours into their flight, a beep from one of Georgia’s consoles pulled her attention away from her novel. A bunch of new contacts had just been detected by her gravimetric sensors. They had appeared at the end of the nearest shift passage to Georgia’s location, one that led deeper into Rasmorse space. From their heading, it seemed they wanted to reach Racrous. Without Archimedes’ advanced computers, it took a couple of minutes for Georgia’s Hellcat to identify them. When it did, Georgia’s eyes lit up. Most of the ships were Protectorate freighters. Yes, there were eight warships accompanying them, but the rest of the three contacts were all freighters. It was a juicy target.

Clearly, Maverick thought so too. Having identified them quicker, he was already taking action and altered his squadron’s heading. Though his ships were further away, they could arrest their momentum much easier than Georgia’s fighters, and Maverick could bring a lot more firepower to the party. On the small holo plot in front of Georgia, the projections of the course of both groups of ships began to update. Georgia smiled when she saw Maverick would intercept the convoy three light minutes from Racrous. Unless the colony’s garrison broke orbit and came to the convoy’s rescue, Maverick would obliterate the newly-arrived freighters. And if they did break orbit, Maverick would have a chance to take them out, and then move on to hit the colony’s battlestations and then unprotected orbitals.

Which means he may need our help, Georgia thought as her finger twitched towards her Hellcat’s autopilot. If she started to slow her fighters now, she would be giving up on her attack run on the rare elements mining base. In the long run, taking out such a base could be far more significant than destroying a few additional freighters. Yet, Georgia’s instinct wanted to go where the severest fighting was going to be. Maverick knows the balance of power, if he wants you, he’ll call, Georgia told herself as she moved her hand away from the autopilot.

For another half an hour, Georgia watched as Maverick charged towards the convoy. Realizing their danger, the convoy increased its acceleration slightly moments after spotting Maverick’s ships. Yet, it wasn’t enough to allow them to reach the safety of Racrous’s battlestations. Neither did the colony’s garrison break orbit to come to their rescue. Georgia understood their hesitancy, yet the one thing that didn’t seem right was the reaction of Racnis’s garrison. It only made sense for them to send at least a portion of their force towards Racrous to help cover the colony in the event Racrous’ garrison did decide to try and engage Maverick. Yet, they hadn’t moved since the convoy had arrived.

Georgia didn’t understand why neither garrison hadn’t moved, but then, as she often told herself, she wasn’t a naval officer, she was a fighter jock. No doubt her brother would have some explanation that made perfect sense when he said it. At least, that was what Georgia told herself.

Thirty-three minutes after entering the system, Georgia was proven wrong. For in the space of five seconds that flashed by like the blink of an eye, the convoy revealed what it truly was. It started when forty-eight small contacts suddenly appeared from the midst of the convoy. As they maneuvered and formed up into what was unmistakably a fighter formation, the freighters began to change course. As one, they turned their noses towards Maverick’s ships. At the same time, they sped up. The increase in acceleration gave Georgia’s Hellcat a far better look at each ship’s gravimetric signature. Her computer recognized almost none of them. The ones it did sent a shiver down Georgia’s spine. Ten of the contacts were Eaglaton destroyers.

Quickly, Georgia figured out who the others were. With only two contacts putting out more power than the destroyers, she assumed they had to be the carriers that had just launched the fighters. That meant the other ships were either frigates or corvettes. Either way, Georgia breathed a small sigh of relief, for Maverick would still have a decent advantage over the Eaglatons if it came down to a missile duel.

Movement from Racrous made Georgia revaluate her assessment of the situation almost immediately. The colony’s garrison was breaking orbit and coming for Maverick. Right away, Georgia saw the Protectorate’s plan. Their fighters were going to hurl themselves against Maverick’s ships and cause enough damage that between them, the fake convoy’s warships and Racrous’ garrison could catch and destroy the Commodore’s force.

If it had been forty-eight Protectorate fighters, Georgia would have given the one squadron of fighters still on the pocket carriers a good chance of fighting enough of them off to give Maverick a chance. But not Eaglaton fighters, especially if they were piloted by pilots as skilled as the ones she had fought at Genese. They will get in close, and then focus their fire on the ships’ engines. All they have to do is hurt them, then their warships can close in and do the rest, Georgia feared.

There was only one thing Georgia could think to do. It meant almost certain death. She had to do it, there was no other choice. And yet, she hesitated as her finger hovered over her COM unit. Her mind pictured each of the seven other pilots with her. It wasn’t fair on them. The smallest of tears formed in the corner of her eye even as her finger pressed the COM unit to activate it. She had been raised to do what needed done, whatever the personal cost. “Pilots, adjust heading to seven, nine, four point six. We’re going to intercept those fighters!”

“Understood, Flight Leader,” Rogue Two replied, his tone not betraying the seriousness of their situation. “They’re not going to know what hit them.”

Her wingmate’s words brought a smile to Georgia’s face despite their situation. “Let’s show them what real pilots can do,” she added herself. If we’re going to go out with a bang, we may as well talk it up, she thought to herself. As the rest of her pilots added their own thoughts, Georgia allowed herself to take in their confidence and certainty. They are as willing to do this as you are, she reassured herself.

Letting out a slow breath, Georgia turned her attention to the forty-eight Eaglaton fighters. Since Genese, she had been hoping to get another chance to take on an Eaglaton fighter. Yet, not like this. With her three Rogue squadron pilots, and four Swift fighters, they were outnumbered six to one. But, we don’t have to beat them all, Georgia thought as she searched for a plan. We just have to delay as many as possible. The problem Maverick faced was that forty-eight enemy fighters would overwhelm his defenses and be able to damage a number of his ships. If Georgia could convince enough to turn back and fight her, then Maverick could make his escape.

Just minutes after her fighters turned to intercept the Eaglaton fighters, Georgia’s actions already began to bear fruit. Eight Eaglaton fighters peeled away from their main formation and turned to head off Georgia’s Hellcats. Georgia nodded. It was a start, but she needed to reduce their numbers even more. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to force more to engage her.

“Our missiles!” Georgia said out loud as she remembered the large thermonuclear missiles her fighters were carrying. The Eaglaton fighters wouldn’t be expecting her fighters to be armed with them. “And we can use that.” Georgia activated her COM unit again and quickly explained her idea. “With luck, it will get us past these eight and allow us to push on towards their main formation.”

“It’s worth a shot, Flight Leader,” Rogue Two said. “I’ll reprogram them now.”

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Georgia replied.

Five minutes later, Georgia and Rogue Two had everything prepared. With the eight Eaglaton fighters still twenty minutes away, Georgia was left to her own thoughts. She tried to distract herself by watching Maverick recall his ships and fighters. Twenty-four fighters from the two pocket carriers had been out on missions. They were all racing back to Archimedes and Pythagoras, but only a handful would get there in time to help protect their carriers. The various warships hadn’t been deployed so far, and so at least all but one of them was going to make it back in time.

After just a few minutes, Georgia couldn’t keep her mind on the Imperial ships. Their courses were all set, and so the situation wasn’t going to develop any more. Either she was going to delay enough Eaglaton fighters to give Maverick a chance, or she wasn’t. Though she fought it, her thoughts turned to her family. This was not the first time she had faced all but certain death, and so she was now familiar with the feelings of sadness and loss that washed over her. Being familiar with them and welcoming them were two different things, however.

They will know what you gave your life for, Georgia consoled herself. And they would all do the same if they were here. Certain she was right, the knowledge actually lifted Georgia’s spirits. Whatever was to come, she could be content in knowing she hadn’t let them down.

A beep from her Hellcat pulled Georgia from her thoughts. The eight enemy fighters were just three minutes away. Charging at Georgia’s force head on, they were trying to take out as many if not all of her fighters in one pass. We will see, she thought towards whoever was commanding the opposing force as she took hold of her flight stick. After putting her Hellcat through a series of maneuvers to calm her nerves, she checked and double checked her anti-ship missiles. “Everyone ready?” she then asked her pilots.

After everyone acknowledged, she silently watched the counter on her console count down. “Fire!” she ordered when it hit zero. From her Hellcat and the seven others arrayed around it, sixteen anti-ship missiles launched towards the incoming Eaglaton fighters.

Understandably, the enemy fighters reacted pretty quickly. Not wanting to get caught up in the warheads’ explosions, they broke out of the missiles’ path. Their maneuver didn’t have any impact on Georgia’s plan, however. For just as her second counter hit zero, Georgia hit one of her secondary triggers, instantly detonating the sixteen missiles. Instead of antimatter, the nuclear explosions from the warheads filled space with electromagnetic energy.

The result was that both sets of fighters were momentarily obscured from one another. “Fire anti-fighter missiles now!” Georgia ordered. In quick succession, she rippled off both of her smaller missiles. They flew straight towards the receding thermonuclear explosions, their targeting sensors searching wildly for something to lock on to. As all the electromagnetic energy from the detonations dissipated, suddenly both groups of fighters and now the anti-fighter missiles, could see each other.

In a split second, most of the missiles’ targeting computers identified the new contacts and raced towards them. The Eaglaton fighters spotted the missiles at the same time, and beeped a warning at their pilots. It took the pilots a fraction of a second to register what was happening. That was all the time the missiles needed. Suddenly, space in front of Georgia was lit up by a number of explosions as at least four enemy fighters were hit.

Georgia didn’t have time to congratulate herself though, for within a couple of seconds, both sides began to spit out laser beams as they rushed towards one another. Georgia sensed at least two explosions near her, signaling some of her pilots were dying. Focusing more on her evasive maneuvers, Georgia fired off several volleys of beams when she got the chance. Her priority wasn’t taking out the fighters in front of her however, forcing them to turn and engage her already meant she had beat them.

Falling deeply into her focused trance-like state, Georgia lost awareness of everything but the maneuvers she was throwing her Hellcat into. As soon as it was done, the next maneuver came to her without thought, then the next and then the next. Before she realized it, two shapes came flashing past her fighter. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Yet it was enough for Georgia to confirm two things. Firstly, the enemy fighters were the same as the ones she had fought at Genese, but secondly, they had no insignia on their wings.

These aren’t their crack pilots! The thought barely flickered through Georgia’s mind, so focused was she on her maneuvers, but she did register it. As she continued her evasive maneuvers, not even bothering to spin her fighter around to fire at the enemy fighters as their momentum took them away, she felt her hope rise. If the pilots weren’t as good as those at Genese, she had a chance of stopping their attack!

As soon as the laser beams stopped zipping past her Hellcat, Georgia checked her sensors. She had only lost two pilots! She felt each of their losses. Especially Rogue Three who she knew the best. But, she still had six Hellcats, and they were all still charging to intercept the main force of enemy fighters. “Great flying,” she said to her pilots. “Rogue Three and Swift Six died to get us through that first wave. Now, they’ll have to send more after us. Let’s take as many with us as we can!”

Every one of her pilots heartily agreed, their voices indicating they were full of adrenaline. Georgia felt it running through her veins too, though her augments were moderating her levels to the point where it wouldn’t compromise her clarity of thinking. So, she asked the commander of the main Eagleton fighter force. How many are you going to send this time?

Georgia got her answer two minutes later when eight more fighters peeled away from the main group of enemy fighters. The number made her smile. The Eaglatons didn’t want to underestimate her pilots this time. It was also more than she had hoped for. Her charge had now taken sixteen fighters out of the attack on Maverick’s force. Georgia wasn’t sure if that was enough to ensure Archimedes and the other warships’ escape. But, it is the best we could do for you, she thought, all but certain her six pilots wouldn’t survive the next wave of enemy fighters. With no anti-ship or anti-fighter missiles, they had no tricks left. It’s now pilot versus pilot, Georgia thought. She was fine with that, for she intended to take at least a couple of the Eaglatons with her this time.

Once again, as the next Eaglaton fighters approached, Georgia began to put her Hellcat through evasive maneuver after maneuver. When both groups of fighters opened up with their laser cannons, she was already in her zone. This time, she did more than just try to fire pot shots at the Eaglaton fighters. Sweat formed on her brow as she jinked and fired at the same time. The Eagleton fighters were good. They were so agile, she was struggling to land her hits. At the same time, so many laser beams were zipping past her cockpit that Georgia thought they had all decided to target her.

When an explosion so close to her that it had to be Rogue Two flashed through her peripheral vision, Georgia knew she had been wrong. She screamed as she pulled her trigger at the nearest Eaglaton fighter as it appeared in her crosshairs. Though her lips were pressed firmly together, a hiss of satisfaction escaped through them when the fighter’s shield flared, then failed, and the fighter blew apart. One, she thought, even as the amount of fire coming her way intensified further, suggesting more of her fighters had been lost.

With no time to check, Georgia focused all her physical and mental strength into weaving and firing. Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly. Yet Georgia felt it give her an edge. She could almost sense each laser beam as it was fired towards her. Almost as significantly, she was starting to familiarize herself with the Eaglaton fighter’s maneuverability, and their pilots’ tendencies. As both groups of fighters rushed right into point blank range of each other, Georgia’s shields flared once, twice and a third time. Yet they held at twenty percent strength. At the same time, Georgia scored another kill, and then another.

Then, like a flash, both groups of fighters zipped by one another. Georgia instantly flipped her fighter end over end to bring her laser cannons to bear on the enemy as momentum took them apart. Fire from her left and right told her at least two other Imperial pilots were still in the fight. Another close explosion silenced one of the sources of Imperial laser beams almost instantly.

Clenching her jaw, Georgia set her sights on another Eaglaton fighter. It weaved every which way as she tried to nail it with her weapons. She let out a cry of frustration as beam after beam missed. Another explosion close to her Hellcat intensified her anger. “Die!” she screamed as she hurled another volley of beams at the Eaglaton. Her eyes widened when several connected. They beat down the Eaglaton’s shields and melted the fighter to slag in the blink of an eye.

Not satisfied with her fourth kill, Georgia immediately looked for another target. As she did, she realized no more laser beams were coming her way. There were three Eaglaton fighters on her scope, but none were firing. For a second, Georgia was confused. Then she felt like an idiot as she realized they had already moved out of range! She shook herself. A glance at her chronometer confirmed the engagement had only lasted one hundred seconds. Yet it felt like hours had passed.

Only then did it dawn on her what being out of range meant. She had survived! For several seconds, Georgia stared at the Eaglaton fighters, confused once again. Five of them were gone. She thought she had shot down four. But she didn’t understand how she was still alive. There had been so many beams targeting her!

But you are alive, Georgia thought, forcing herself to accept reality. Letting go of her flight stick, she let out a long deep breath that drained all the tension from her body. She had made it through! Somehow, her skills had given her one more victory. She wasn’t going to die. You beat the odds again, Georgia thought, amazed at herself for what she had been able to pull off. Except, that you’re not going home, the same voice said to her as her eyes fell upon her fuel status. She didn’t have enough fuel to alter course and try and catch up with Archimedes, not if the pocket carrier was going to keep accelerating for the system’s mass shadow and safety from the Eaglaton ships chasing her.

Georgia was sure that if she requested it, Maverick would slow his warships to give her a chance to catch up. She was second in line for the Imperial throne, after all. In fact, as she thought about it, she thought there was a good chance he would do so without her even asking. There was no way he would want to return to Admiral Becket to report he had left Georgia Somerville behind. Realizing what Maverick was likely to do cemented Georgia’s decision. She was not going to put her friends and comrades at risk. They had to get out of the system before the Eaglaton warships and Protectorate garrisons trapped them.

That was only going to happen if she couldn’t be rescued. Which means there is no way home for you, she thought to herself. But there is a blaze of glory, for if she didn’t have the fuel to make it to Archimedes, she did have the fuel for one last fight. Georgia’s eyes narrowed as she turned her sensor towards the thirty-two remaining Eaglaton fighters that were chasing after Maverick’s squadron. She had already shot down four enemy fighters, if she could, she wanted to make that five, or even six. And every one that has to turn to engage me can’t catch up to Archimedes.

Her decision made, Georgia altered her course slightly to bring her back onto an intercept course for the Eaglaton fighters. Then she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm herself. If this was to be her last fight, she wanted it to be her best. When she opened them again, she expected to see one or two enemy fighters coming her way. Yet there were none. Her brow furrowed. Surely they’re not going to just let me cruise up behind them and blast away for as long as I want? She asked.

A few moments later and Georgia got her answer. One Eaglaton fighter broke away from their main force. Except, he didn’t turn to confront Georgia. Instead, he angled away from his comrades and began to slow. His intention was obvious, he was going to pull away from his main force until Georgia passed him, then he would turn and slot in right behind her. From there, he could shoot her down at his leisure, unless of course Georgia turned to fight, but if she did that, she would lose the momentum that was allowing her to catch the rest of the Eaglaton fighters.

Georgia considered her options. She could fight one last duel and hopefully kill the lone pilot who seemed pretty confident, given he was going up against an enemy who had already shot down four of his friends. But that wouldn’t help her friends. The other option was to continue on. She would have to fend off this pilot’s attacks, but if she could do that, she could hit the rest of the Eaglaton fighters and force more of them to turn to fight her, or maybe even take one of them out.

“One more time,” Georgia said as she tapped her Hellcat’s console. “Let’s do this one more time and see just how much mayhem we can cause. How does that sound?” Though her Hellcat didn’t respond, Georgia was once again filled with determination. She had a clear path ahead of her, and she was going to stick to it until one of the Eaglatons finally managed to shoot her down.

Minutes before the enemy pilot slotted in behind her, Georgia began her evasive maneuvers. Every few seconds she spared a glance back checking on her pursuer’s progress. When she reckoned, he was just about to open fire, she took one last look. Suddenly, her body tensed. The Eaglaton fighter had the same sharp-toothed bird insignia on its wing as the fighters she had fought at Genese. One of their crack pilots! Georgia was certain.

As she glanced back at her holo plot, the distance between her ship and the rest of the Eaglaton fighters seemed to lengthen considerably. In order to be able to fire upon them with her lasers, she would have to endure five minutes of the Eaglaton behind her trying to shoot her down. Before, she had given herself a fifty-fifty chance of surviving that long. In her head, the odds dropped considerably.

Your course is set, Georgia thought to herself. All you can do now is see it through. Gripping her flight stick more tightly, she intensified her evasive maneuvers. Seconds later, the first laser beams came zipping past her. At first, they seemed to miss wildly. Almost, Georgia was lulled into a false sense of security, but she knew better. The Eaglaton pilot was missing intentionally. “You’ll have to try better than that,” Georgia said though gritted teeth.

Soon, the Eaglaton pilot did just that. Beams that missed by hundreds of meters suddenly started missing by five or less. Without conscious thought, Georgia slipped fully into her hyper-focused state. Weaving, twisting, and corkscrewing, she led the Eaglaton pilot where she wanted. Within twenty seconds of the fight beginning, she was certain he was good, for he matched her move for move. He’s as good as me, Georgia begrudgingly admitted, accepting that her chances of reaching the rest of the Eaglaton fighters was even smaller, even as she intensified her efforts.

As she continued to weave and dodge, the enemy pilot’s skill actually started to give her an edge. Putting herself in his shoes, Georgia was able to anticipate exactly how he would respond to each of her maneuvers. As a result, each time he opened fire, she was already throwing herself into a different maneuver. For almost a minute, Georgia was able to dodge everything fired at her.

Without warning however, the situation changed. Just as Georgia expected the enemy pilot to open fire again, she jinked right. Yet no laser beams ripped through space where she had been. In alarm, Georgia jinked again, but she was too late. Her shields flared as two beams caught them. Alarms blared at Georgia, telling her the shield had been depleted. He knows, she thought at the same time. The enemy pilot had figured out how she was dodging him. Now, he’s going to attack randomly.

Sure enough, seconds later, a whole bunch of laser beams zipped all around Georgia’s Hellcat. Each had a small chance of hitting, but the Eaglaton only had to get lucky once. Georgia had to stay lucky for another three and a half minutes!

Knowing she had to fly like never before, Georgia lost all sense of herself. She became one with her Hellcat. She twisted and weaved without a second’s hesitation between maneuvers. When her console beeped alarms, warning she was exceeding the stress her reactors, engines, and even hull could handle, she wasn’t even aware of them. She could feel her fighter like it was an extension of her body. She knew exactly where the limits were. On the other hand, she didn’t feel, or at least, wasn’t aware of the g-forces her maneuvers pressed upon her.

Every action she took, every movement of her flight stick, every jink and twist, pushed her fighter and her body right to the limit. Though time seemed to slow to a crawl, Georgia didn’t care, for every painstaking second that slipped by brought her one step closer to hitting the other Eaglaton fighters and giving Archimedes more of a chance to escape.

For another two minutes, Georgia dodged again and again. No matter what the Eaglaton pilot tried to throw at her, she always seemed one step ahead. And yet, she couldn’t outrun the odds that were stacked against her. With no shield, the Eaglaton pilot needed just one hit. When Georgia was just one minute and twenty seconds from being to engage the main Eaglaton fighter force, he finally scored it.

A laser beam scored a glancing blow. Without warning, it grazed Georgia’s Hellcat, melting a deep gash in the fighter’s wing. Alarms filled Georgia’s ears at the same time several of the wing’s maneuvering thrusters failed. Georgia felt it instantly as her latest maneuver went wildly out of control. The failed maneuver actually saved her, for follow up shots from the Eaglaton zipped through where she had been heading.

However, as Georgia tried another evasive maneuver, she knew she was in trouble. Her fighter wasn’t responding anything like she expected. She couldn’t hope to pull off the tight turns and weaves she was used to. In frustration, she screamed as she pulled on her flight stick, trying to force her Hellcat into a corkscrew. It failed miserably.

Sensing his prey was wounded, the Eaglaton pilot intensified his fire. No longer trying to fire randomly, he held his finger down on his trigger, enveloping Georgia’s Hellcat in laser beams.

Georgia’s heartbeat rose for the first time since the fight began. She suddenly became aware of all the sweat running down her body. The cold made her shake. Though as she continued to shake, she realized it wasn’t just the sweat. This is it. There was no way out for her now. Death was staring her in the face. In a rage, Georgia rolled her fighter. If this is it, I’m not going out like some whimpering prey!

Ignoring the fire that was coming her way, Georgia lined her sights up on the enemy fighter. As she pulled her trigger, she let out a scream of rage. Her scream turned to one of joy as she saw the enemy’s fighter’s shields flare from her shots. She twitched her flight stick to keep the enemy fighter in her crosshairs. Yet nothing happened.

Instead, three laser beams intersected with her Hellcat. Alarms screamed at Georgia for a split second as the fighter melted around her. Then, a force greater than anything Georgia had felt before slammed into her. She opened her mouth to let out a grunt of pain as her restraints bite into her flesh. The forces pressing down on her chest and stomach didn’t let any sound out. Instead, darkness rose up to greet her as she started to lose consciousness. The automatic ejec.. were the last thoughts that raced through Georgia’s mind before the pain and heat mercifully forced her into unconsciousness, and her head slumped.

Chapter 21

Any battle can turn on the death of one person. Military history is replete with such examples. Sometimes it is the loss of leadership, or a catastrophic fall in morale, but whatever the cause, the death of a crucial leader at a critical time can bring certain defeat. Similarly, the converse can also be true, for just as a leader’s death can turn a battle against you, it can also serve as a rallying cry, cementing the resolve of those who have lost one of their own.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Archimedes

Commodore Maverick stared in horror as Flight Leader Somerville turned her lone fighter to continue to chase the Eaglaton fighters closing with his squadron. He screamed over his COM unit for her to turn back. Her fighters had already sacrificed enough for his ships. She was the daughter of the Imperial Emperor and Empress! She had a duty to the Empire’s citizens to survive! Yet his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Giving up, he joined the rest of Archimedes’ bridge officers as, in silence, they watched the Imperial pilot who had already shot down four Eaglaton fighters try to add to her tally. A groan went up from several of them when one enemy fighter peeled away from the rest. Maverick couldn’t believe his eyes when Georgia didn’t turn to engage it. What is she thinking? He asked himself. When he realized, he was even more shocked. She was going to try and hit the other fighters even with one Eaglaton behind her shooting at her!

It can’t work, Maverick said to himself. As good as Georgia was, how could she pull it off? And yet, as Maverick watched, she did begin to do it. Seconds turned into minutes as Georgia dodged everything the enemy pilot fired at her. Then another groan erupted, this time from everyone on the bridge. Georgia had been hit. Gasps followed as her Hellcat spun and began shooting lasers back at her pursuer. For a split second, Maverick thought she was going to take him out. But then, Georgia’s Hellcat disappeared in a small explosion.

Everyone was stunned into silence once more. One moment Georgia’s Hellcat was there, shining on Archimedes’ sensors, the next it was gone. For several seconds, Maverick found himself unable to move or say anything. Then the horror of what had just happened hit him. The Imperial Princess had just been shot down! “Is, is there an emergency transponder?” he asked tentatively, not holding out much hope.

Archimedes’ COM officer shook her head. “I’m not picking up anything from the vicinity of her last location. We aren’t even detecting any wreckage.”

Maverick closed his eyes. Georgia was gone, and she had died on his watch. He had allowed the Protectorates to trick him. She and her pilots had given their lives to pull as many fighters away from attacking him as possible. How do I tell Admiral Becket? Maverick asked himself, How do I tell the Emperor? He didn’t know. But we’re going to have a chance to tell them because of her, he thought, reminding himself he still had a battle to fight.

“We can’t let her sacrifice be in vain,” Maverick said to his officers solemnly. “The Imperial Princess just gave her life so we can have a chance to escape.” He turned to his COM officer. “Open a channel to all our fighters and ships,” he requested. “All hands, you have just seen our Imperial Princess give her life for each of us. It’s now up to us to finish what she started. Every one of those fighters that gets through to hit our ships could trap us here and seal our fate. Let’s honor our Princess and take them all out!”

“All ships acknowledging your orders, Commodore,” Archimedes COM officer reported moments later.

“Inform Ghost squadron they are free to engage,” Maverick responded. He then turned to the holo plot to urge on his fighters. With most of his fighters out on missions attacking different industrial nodes scattered around the system, the sudden appearance of so many Eaglaton fighters had caught him with his pants down. Against the incoming thirty-two Eaglaton fighters, Maverick just had the twelve fighters of Ghost squadron, and one flight of four fighters from Swift squadron. Four other fighters that were racing back might also arrive in time to join the fight. But by then, Maverick wasn’t sure how many of Ghost’s fighters would be left.

His pilots didn’t let him down though, or rather, they didn’t let Flight Leader Somerville down. The sixteen Hellcats tore into the Eaglaton fighters with abandon. Having left Archimedes half an hour ago, they travelled along a circular path, so they were coming back towards the carrier with a similar velocity to the incoming Eaglaton fighters. Their maneuver forced the Eaglatons into a dog fight.

Firing their anti-fighter missiles first, they mercilessly hunted down the Eagleton fighters their missiles chased. Even as the Eaglaton pilots desperately tried to throw off the missiles’ locks, laser beams zipped past them on all sides. Maverick counted six explosions amongst the Eaglaton fighters. His Hellcats didn’t have things all their own way, however, for the unengaged Eaglaton pilots were able to engage them. Within ten seconds of making contact, the battle degenerated into a general dogfight as each pilot fought by themselves or with their wingmate, hunting or being hunted.

For nearly two minutes, the Imperial pilots seemed able to summon Georgia’s spirit to fight with them as they held their own. Five more Eaglaton fighters were shot down. However, slowly the Eaglaton’s numbers, and the skills of their pilots, came to bear. Maverick found himself watching the same Eaglaton fighter that had shot down Georgia. It joined the fight slightly late, but it lost no time in making up for its delay. In the space of thirty seconds, it shot down two Hellcats. By the time it looked for a third target, none were left. All sixteen Imperial Hellcats had been taken out of the fight; damaged or destroyed.

They had proved their worth though, for as the Eaglatons reformed, just twenty-one were left. Before long, two peeled away, turning to face the four fighters of Stinger squadron that were rapidly closing. “All right,” Maverick said to his officers. “Our pilots have thinned their numbers, let’s show these Eaglatons what we are capable of.”

As the Eaglatons charged in and Archimedes opened up with her point defenses, for the first time, Maverick felt like he really grasped just how maneuverable the new fighters were. They dodged the AM missiles fired at them with ease. Laser beams and plasma bolts always seemed to burn through space right where they had been a fraction of a second ago, but never where they currently were. The only weapons the enemy fighters seemed to struggle with were the flak cannon rounds and the discharges from the arc emitters. Both area-of-effect weapons posed the Eaglaton pilots a problem their precise flying skills couldn’t dodge. Maverick couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when Eaglaton fighters finally started dying.

Nevertheless, despite the best efforts of his gunners, twelve Eaglaton fighters made it into attack range. Having no idea just what anti-ship weapons they might be equipped with, Maverick already had his ships carrying out evasive maneuvers. When Archimedes’ sensors detected power spikes from all the Eaglaton fighters at the same time, Maverick was glad he did, for he didn’t have a chance to shout a warning. Instead, each ship’s navigation officer reacted as best they could and threw their ships about even harder.

Maverick’s eyes widened when he saw the nose of each fighter retract to show the stubby point of what could only be a mass driver cannon. When the fighter’s fired, they visibly shuddered as the discharge threw them back. Already travelling at the fighter’s momentum of 0.2c, the mass driver cannons imparted another 0.3c to their half-ton shells. Each shell travelled for three seconds before a small explosive device within them detonated. The explosion added more momentum to the rounds, but more importantly, ripped them into a hundred pieces, turning them into massive shotgun pellets.

Maverick gripped his command chair; certain evasive maneuvers couldn’t save all his ships from such destruction. He winced a second later as Archimedes trembled, hit by at least one shell fragment. Alarms went off and officers started shouting to one another in concern. On the holo display, Maverick also saw multiple other explosions erupt among his ships as whatever the fragments were made of struck valstronium armor and both metallic alloys vaporized each other.

“Keep firing at those fighters as they retreat!” Maverick ordered. He wasn’t sure if ships so small could be equipped with capacitors large enough to power two shots in quick succession, but he didn’t want to find out. “And then, get me a damage report on Archimedes and our other ships.”

Five minutes later, it was clear the Eaglatons couldn’t fire again, for they were accelerating back towards their carriers. They had done enough damage, though. Eight of Maverick’s ships had been hit. Thankfully, Archimedes had been lucky. She had a massive hole in her armor and had lost a lot of sensor and point defense nodes, but her hull hadn’t been breached. Two other ships, the destroyer Maplewood and the frigate Steel hadn’t been so lucky. Both had gaping holes where the enemy munitions had blasted right through their armor. A total of eighty-seven crew had been killed across the squadron, with the majority coming from Maplewood and Steel. Almost as bad, both ships were too badly damaged and would have to be scuttled if Maverick was to be able to get his squadron to safety. The one thing that had gone in their favor was that neither Archimedes nor her sister ship had suffered damage to their landing bays, allowing the rest of the squadron’s fighters to be landed before jumping out.

After assessing the damage, Maverick forced himself to forget about the negatives and focus on getting what was left of his squadron to safety. There would be plenty of time for recriminations later. “There’s no time to spare. Maplewood and Steel need to begin evacuating at once. Sortie all our personnel shuttles immediately and begin taking their crew off. Get repair teams from our undamaged ships to the others that have been hit the worst, I don’t want any other ships suffering malfunctions as we jump into shift space. Take it easy landing our fighters too, everything on Archimedes has been shaken up, let’s not take any risks.

“And launch our rescue shuttles. I see emergency recovery COMs blaring,” Maverick added as he glanced at the area where his fighters had engaged the Eaglatons. He hoped each ER COM represented a pilot that was still alive, and not just an ejector seat that had ejected with its pilot already dead. Wishfully, he cast his eye back to the area of space where Georgia’s Hellcat had been blown up, but there was no sign of it. “And then, get the rest of the squadron ready for the jump to shift space, for we’re jumping as soon as we reach the mass shadow,” he added. All too aware that the Eaglaton destroyers and the garrison fleet from Racrous were still chasing his ships. You got us out of this, Maverick thought towards Georgia, wherever she was now. Having seen the destructive ferocity of the Eaglaton ships, he was sure that if all forty-eight had hit his squadron, if he had managed to escape at all, it would have been with less than half of his ships. I’m just sorry you’re not here to see it.

*

IS Trident, Genese system, 14th May 2510 AD, (ten days later).

Over the course of three days, concerning reports started reaching Admiral Becket from the raiding squadrons she had sent south. Across several systems, small forces of Eaglaton warships were being encountered. More often than not, they were driving her squadrons back towards Genese. At first, Becket had thought it a coincidence, like the sudden appearance of the Eaglaton fighters at Genese. But the reports had kept coming in. Now, there was only one conclusion she could come to. The pattern of the appearance of the various Eaglaton squadrons suggested they were lead elements of a larger fleet. One that was coming her way. If Becket had needed any further encouragement to pull back from her feint attack, she had found it.

Yet her growing concern about a large enemy fleet approaching couldn’t have prepared her for the news that came with the arrival of Archimedes and Commodore Maverick’s squadron. Becket was on the bridge when the two pocket carriers and their escorts started accelerating into the system. “They are missing ships,” she said to her staff officers.

“Yes Admiral,” Albright confirmed. “It looks like a destroyer and a frigate.”

“Then they’ve had a run in with Eaglaton warships, too. Send me their reports as soon as Commodore Maverick transmits it.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Albright replied.

Ten minutes later, Becket was able to pull it up on her datapad. Reading just the first paragraph sent goosebumps down her arms. Maverick hadn’t begun with a chronological account of his raid; he had come straight to the most important topic. His squadron had been ambushed and Flight Leader Georgia Somerville had sacrificed herself to give the squadron a chance to escape. Becket set the datapad down. She would read the rest, but she needed a moment. Filled with grief, she closed her eyes as she hung her head.

Her mind immediately went to James and Christine. She knew from the many looks she had seen them share that they had feared this day since their offspring had begun joining the Imperial Navy and Marines. All their children were expected to serve, it was the example their parents had set. Knowing Jonathan and Georgia as she did, Becket was sure James and Christine couldn’t have stopped them, even if they had tried. But that won’t stop them blaming themselves, Becket was certain. Both James and Christine would see it as their fault. They would carry the guilt along with the loss with them for the rest of their lives.

And I’m the one who has to tell them, Becket thought as a tear ran down her chin. James and Christine had lost so much in the War of Doom against the Karacknids. So many of their friends and family had been taken from them. But, this will be different. Now, it is their children. Becket couldn’t imagine how she was going to begin to write to them. But she knew she had to, she owed them that much. And you owe her that much, Becket told herself.

As Georgia had grown up, Becket had seen her as the daughter of one of her closest friends. She had many happy memories of spending time in the palace with Georgia and her brothers and sisters. But more recently, in the last two years as Georgia had served under her, Becket had come to count Georgia as a friend in her own right. More than that, as a woman who deserved her respect. The feats Georgia had accomplished in her Hellcat will go down in history. Not to mention how she died, Becket thought. She hadn’t read the full details yet, but she was sure she wouldn’t be disappointed. If the Eaglatons had killed her friend, they must have done so with an overwhelming force.

Reluctantly, after wiping away another tear, Becket opened her eyes again and began to read. She shook her head several times at Georgia. The woman knew no sense of self-preservation. She never put her life before others. She learned from the best, Becket thought as she read the last few lines of Maverick’s description of Georgia’s actions. She could easily picture a young Captain James Somerville doing the same. And she saved her friends, Georgia saw as she read on, for the Eaglaton fighters had indeed proved to be deadly against capital ships.

When she finished reading, Becket looked up to find most of her staff officers staring at her. They could tell something was wrong. Becket cleared her throat to give herself a moment to compose her voice. “I am afraid Commodore Maverick’s squadron was ambushed by Eaglaton forces. Flight Leader Somerville didn’t survive the battle. She sacrificed herself to allow her ships to escape.” The faces of all the officers around Becket fell. Some knew Georgia personally, others only by reputation, though all knew her brother after he had served on Becket’s staff for several months. They also knew how fond of Georgia Becket had become. Becket gave them a sad smile to acknowledge their sympathy.

“It is a poignant day for the fleet, and for the Empire,” Becket continued. “However, we must fight on to live up to Georgia and her pilots’ legacy. This latest Eaglaton attack further confirms my suspicions. We are close to overstaying our welcome here at Genese. By now, news of our attack should have reached Admiral Lvant. If he comes himself, he should already be well on his way here to drive us out. It is time for us to take our leave. We will leave a small rear guard to keep up the pretense that we intend to hold the system, but otherwise, let us begin our preparations to fall back. I want to be on the move before the end of the day.”

“Understood, Admiral, we will begin immediately,” Albright said on behalf of Becket’s staff officers. He then lowered his voice a little. “And when you write to the Emperor and Empress, you can pass on all our condolences as well.”

Becket nodded. “I will, Commander, I will.”

Chapter 22

During the early years of the Empire, when it rained, it often poured.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Earth, 14th May 2510 AD, (same time).

As the shuttle touched down on the palace’s main landing pad, it sent up a swirl of dust. James waited for the dust to pass before stepping forward towards the shuttle’s descending access ramp. The alien Admiral who stepped out was wearing his full dress uniform. James was glad he had listened to Christine and donned his as well, despite how uncomfortable it made him. The wide grin that spread across the alien’s face made James forget about his attire. He returned it and gladly held out a hand towards his guest.

“Admiral Somerville, it is a pleasure to see you in the flesh,” Admiral Maleck said as he grasped James’s hand in all four of his. “How long has it been?”

“Four years, I believe,” James replied.

Maleck shook his head. “Too long, my friend, too long.”

“Indeed,” James agreed as he clapped Maleck on the shoulder and led the Crian Admiral towards the Palace. “You’ll not be surprised to hear Christine has prepared a full state dinner for you. By the time she is done with you, you’ll be fuller than your tankers.”

Maleck laughed. “If her hospitality is as good as the last time I visited, I’ll not complain. How are she and the children? I hope I will get to see them as well?”

James nodded. “Of course. They are keen to see you as always. They still talk of their visit to Cria and the tour of your world you gave them. Rachel especially has been bugging me to arrange another state visit just so she can go again.”

Maleck clapped his hands together in a loud crack. “Hearing that pleases me. Hopefully, one day soon, we can make it so.”

James smiled and nodded as the Palace’s main entrance opened to allow them in. Continuing through the palace, James asked Maleck about his family and affairs on Cria and in the Varanni Alliance. Intentionally, neither of them turned the conversation to the new war with the Protectorate, for that would come later. Instead, James enjoyed getting reacquainted with his old friend. They had first met decades ago when Maleck had been Admiral Ya’sia’s Flag Captain on the fateful day when James and Ya’sia’s fleets had nearly engaged one another, thinking the other an accomplice of the Flex-aor. Since then, they had fought together many times against the Flex-aor and the Karacknids, and since Ya’sia’s death, their friendship had grown all the closer because of their common grief over her loss.

When they rounded a turn in the corridor that led to the main banqueting hall, Maleck broke into another grin when they were confronted by Christine, Edward, and Rachel. As Christine moved forward, Maleck pulled her into a tight hug. “Welcome to Earth, Admiral,” Christine managed to get out as she was crushed by Maleck’s strong arms. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you too, Empress,” Maleck replied as he let her go. “I’m only sorry I can’t stay longer than it will take my fleet to refuel.” He then turned to Edward and Rachel. Both got similar hugs. “You two are growing fast,” he said to them. “You’ll be taking over from your parents soon enough.”

Edward’s eyes widened at the thought. “I hope not. As difficult as working in intelligence is, it beats dealing with politicians hands down. All four hands!” He added as he winked at Maleck.

Rachel nodded vigorously. “Exactly. I’ll be joining the marines as a combat medic next year. I’ve spent enough time in the Palace for one lifetime, I want to get out and see the galaxy.”

Maleck’s eyes sparkled as he turned back to James and Christine. “I see you have your hands full. Maybe a trip for them to Cria might give you some relief. Jarbella would be happy to put them up in our house if they wanted to go.”

“Really, we could go?” Rachel asked excitedly as she looked from Maleck to her mother.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Edward said. “I have my responsibilities with Naval Intelligence now.”

“Of course, of course,” Maleck said. “But perhaps, when this war is over, you might have some time off. As for you,” he continued turning back to Rachel, “I understand you’ll have one last summer holiday before going to medical school. Perhaps you’d like to go visit then?”

James shook his head at Maleck, and Christine glared at him as Rachel’s head nodded up and down in excitement. With two of their children out fighting the Protectorates, and the demands of Naval Intelligence keeping Edward away from them for almost every hour in the week, they had been looking forward to their last summer with Rachel before she began her studies.

Looking from James to Christine, Maleck made a Crian facial expression of apology and quickly turned back to Rachel. “That is, of course, if your parents allow it. They may have other plans for you, after all.”

Rachel waved a hand towards Christine and James. “I’m sure it will be okay. You could write to Jarbella before you leave the system and let her know. Then, she and I can work out the details.”

Maleck turned back to Christine, shrugged, and then nodded his head. “I’ll write to her and see. But nothing is happening without your parents’ permission.”

“That is for sure, young lady,” Christine said as she let out a sigh. “I thought you’d like to get to see us like this before meeting a larger crowd,” Christine said as she shook her head. “I’m starting to think I made a mistake.”

“Nonsense, mother,” Rachel said as she reached out and took Maleck by the hand. “It has been too long since Admiral Maleck has seen us. I’m sure he much prefers our company to all the politicians and officers who are about to crowd around him.”

As Rachel led Maleck further down the corridor, Maleck shrugged his shoulders again and then allowed himself to be directed by the teenager. James and Christine shared a look and then followed. It seemed things were already out of their hands.

When they reached the palace’s main banqueting hall, two palace guards opened the ornate double doors for Rachel and Maleck. A palace aide then announced Maleck to the officers and dignitaries already in the room. Maleck patted Rachel’s hand and then moved into the room on his own. At once, he was surrounded by people as they came to greet him.

James and Christine motioned for Edward and Rachel to stand beside them. “We have had places set for both of you,” Christine said, “but if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. You can catch up with Maleck again later before he leaves.”

Edward glanced at Rachel then turned back to Christine. “I think we’ll pass, mother. We’ve been to enough of these. And besides, everyone will want to talk to Maleck.”

Christine nodded as she smiled. “I wish I could do the same. I’ll have your meal sent to our residence and you can eat there. Go and enjoy your evenings.”

“And stay out of trouble,” James called after his two children as they turned and quickly left the banqueting room before anyone could waylay them.

For fifteen minutes, James and Christine hovered near one of the sides of the banqueting room, content to let Maleck be the focus of attention. As the senior Crian Admiral in the Varanni Alliance Navy, and a member of their Navy’s High Command, he held quite a bit of political as well as military power. Given the vast amounts of trade, joint technological research programs, intelligence sharing, and military construction projects that were shared between the Empire and the Varanni Alliance, almost everyone in the room had an angle they wished to pursue with Maleck.

When an aide caught Christine’s eye, she gave him a nod. Clearing his throat, he announced that dinner was about to be served. Knowing it would take an age to convince everyone to give up their conversations and move to their seats if she didn’t lead the way, Christine took James by the hand and moved to Maleck’s side. “Shall we?” she asked as she placed another hand on Maleck’s shoulder.

“Of course, Empress,” Maleck replied, allowing a relieved expression on his face that only James and Christine could see.

Though James was seated with Maleck on his left and Christine on his right, he spent most of the meal in silence. Everyone still wanted to talk to the newcomer, and the few guests who preferred to talk to one of the Empire’s rulers wanted to engage his wife. Not upset in the slightest, James focused on enjoying his particularly well-cooked steak.

It was only after the fourth course was brought out that it seemed the table started to lose interest in Maleck’s news from Alliance space. Slowly, the conversation began to break down into many smaller discussions as each officer or politician focused more on talking with their immediate neighbors rather than Maleck. As they did, James noticed Christine start to pay more attention to each conversation. As ever, the sitting arrangements around the large table had not happened by chance. Christine had picked the occupants of each seat carefully allowing her to direct how many of the conversations went.

Content to leave his wife to the politicking, James finally got to turn to Maleck. “I am very glad you are here, Admiral. My people greatly appreciate the help the Varanni Alliance have sent us, and I am encouraged you are the one they chose to lead your forces.”

“We are friends and allies, Emperor, I know you would do the same for us,” Maleck replied. “But I am glad I am here too. As soon as we heard about these Protectorates, I volunteered to come. I would have been here with the first squadrons we sent, but much work had to be done to prepare to move the larger fleet we now have here.”

“I am sure there was,” James replied. Currently, there were fifteen hundred Alliance warships sitting in orbit around Earth, refilling their fuel tanks. In addition, over four hundred more had already passed through Earth and the Gift on their way to reinforce Admiral Becket. “The last six months have been a logistical nightmare, as you can imagine. Moving so many ships to our southern border was hard enough, but now, having to keep such a large fleet in supply on the other side of the Gift makes even that seem easy. We are very fortunate these Protectorates didn’t manage to destroy the fleet base at Bastion, or else I fear it would be impossible.”

“Fortunate indeed,” Maleck agreed. “And your latest report says both Ulan’nagn and Dudllias have been secured as well.”

James nodded. “They have, though neither system is in a position to provide much support for our ships just yet. We’ll be sending a sizeable freighter flotilla with your fleet with the materials and engineers to start rectifying that.” James then shook his head. “We’re still trying to get our head around the idea that the Dudl’lons have requested to join our Empire. That has given Christine more than one headache.”

Maleck laughed. “It was certainly unforeseen. But, it will be good for your species. Even if it falls through, going through the process will be a learning curve, for once the Vestarians are fully integrated into your Empire, it may open the door for many others. There are many species in The Wilds who would give their right arms to join your Empire or our Alliance.”

“You may be right,” James replied. “But that’s a problem for another time. Unless we can beat the Karacknids when they finally decide to come for us again, there is no way either of us can extend our protection out into The Wilds, and we can’t beat the Karacknids if we are fighting to hold the Gift against the Protectorates.”

“A nasty business this,” Maleck said as he nodded. “But we will drive these Protectorates back. We cannot abandon our Conclave allies, nor give up the Gift. It is too important.”

James couldn’t agree more. The Gift was their biggest strategic advantage over the Karacknids. In any future war with Humanity’s and the Alliance’s primary enemy, the Gift forced the Karacknids to fight on two fronts on almost opposite ends of their territory. While for Humanity, the Gift was just eleven days’ travel from Earth.

“So tell me then,” Maleck continued. “What do you make of Admiral Becket’s progress? She is even more gung-ho than I remember.”

James smiled; this was the kind of dinner conversation he liked. For nearly an hour, the two of them fell into discussing Admiral Becket’s advances towards Protectorate space and his son Jonathan’s accomplishments. Though their intelligence was just over three weeks out of date, it didn’t stop them speculating on where Becket’s ships were, or how they were faring, or how Maleck could use his fifteen hundred ships to best support her.

“I’ll be sending half of the ships we have here with you,” James informed Maleck when the conversation turned towards ship numbers and supply lines. “I wish I could send more, but what we have here now constitutes most of our strategic reserve for our northern forts. We are already stretched far too thin. If one of the Karacknid contenders were to attack now…”

“If they were to attack, we’d have another three thousand warships here within the month,” Maleck assured James. “We know how many ships you have had to commit to your southern border and now through the Gift. As well as the ships I have with me, we’ve been pulling squadrons from our northern forts to build up our own strategic reserve fleets near our common border. Don’t worry, if you are attacked, you won’t be alone. And maybe we could even convince the Kulreans to lend a hand again.”

James snorted. “That would be a fine thing indeed! Sadly, unless they believe their home system threatened directly, I fear that is nothing more than a distant hope.” Since the end of the Karacknid War, the Kulreans had turned in on themselves again. Many of their people had reacted with horror at the destruction their worldships had wrought against the Karacknid invaders. Then even more so at the millions of deaths that had followed as Humanity and the Varanni Alliance had used the ships the Kulreans had built for them to go on the offensive against the Karacknids.

In the last twenty years, the Kulreans had turned their home system into the most fortified system in the galaxy. Whatever was to come after the Karacknid Civil War finally ended, they were determined not to succumb to the Karacknids. Yet, despite James’ and Christine’s best efforts to integrate their worldships into the allied fleet, it appeared they would not be leaving their home system unless one of the allied capitals was directly threatened.

“We will see, we will see,” Maleck said hopefully. “When push came to shove, they were willing to set aside their pacifism before. In peace, it’s easy to hold to such morals. If the Karacknids come for us all, they may yet remember it is better to fight together than die alone one by one.”

“We can hope,” James replied. “But I’ve spoken with Superintendent Hallock several times about the Protectorates. As far as they’re concerned, this is nothing more than a border squabble. One they don’t intend to get involved in.”

“Then we will just have to make sure we convince these Protectorates of the error of picking a fight with us,” Maleck said. “Then we can go back to the real task of preparing to face the Karacknids.”

“I hope it is that easy, my friend,” James replied, not feeling nearly as confident as Maleck sounded. Since Becket had begun her offensive, the losses of Imperial and Allied ships had been mounting. Less than ten percent of the Imperial Navy’s strength was committed to the Bastion sector, but that number was growing daily. James feared the war with the Protectorates could get bogged down into a long, drawn-out affair, and if that happened, he knew his navy’s strength could be sapped away very quickly. Twenty years of military buildup could be undone before a single missile had been fired in anger against the Karacknids.

Beside James, Christine stood up, bringing his and Maleck’s discussion to an end. Christine took a moment to let her gaze move over all the guests as the conversations finished and every head turned to hers. “I think we can all pass on our thanks to the palace chefs, they have out done themselves again,” Christine said with a smile. “And thank you all for your company. I’m sure Admiral Maleck has enjoyed your welcome, as well as meeting old friends and making new ones. Before he has to depart to return to his flagship, I have had some drinks prepared for us in the adjoining room, so let us retire and continue to enjoy one another’s company.”

With the gesture, Christine motioned for James and Maleck to join her and together they left the banqueting hall and moved into a smaller more intimate room. Picking up a glass of wine, James and Maleck moved towards one corner hoping to continue their strategizing. However, they were quickly joined by several other naval officers, and within minutes, the room had split in two. All the naval officers had gathered around James and Maleck, while the politicians gathered around Christine. An hour passed as the officers all shared their takes on how the war was faring and picked Maleck’s brain on any and every military matter. In his element, James lost track of time.

He thus didn’t notice when his Chief of staff entered the room. Nor when she stood on her tiptoes trying to catch his eye through the officers that surrounded him. In the end, she had to wave vigorously before he finally noticed her. “Sorry,” James said to Maleck and the officers as he gestured towards Nicholls, “duty calls.”

“What is it?” he asked as he moved over to Nicholls.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Emperor, but I thought you’d like to know, a Kalassai warship jumped into the system twenty minutes ago. It’s making its way here at what appears to be best possible speed.”

James stood a little straighter. Thanks to his niece Emilie and the Varanni, the Kalassai had found a new home system after the Karacknid War. They had settled in a new homeworld to the galactic south of Varanni Alliance space over two thousand light years from Earth. As a result, their ships almost never visited Earth, though they sent regular updates via the FTL COM array the Kulreans had built for them. For though they had moved their people away from Karacknid space, they still sent scout ships deep into the territory of their enemy. Now they used the hidden shift passages that had allowed them to avoid extinction for so many centuries to spy on their adversary. “Something must be up,” James said. “They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Nicholls nodded. “That’s what I thought. Shall I inform Christine?”

James glanced over to his wife. She was in full swing explaining one thing or another to the politicians gathered around her. He shook his head. “No, we’ll find out what is going on and then let her know.” Instead, he turned and sought out Maleck’s gaze. With a twist of his head he gestured for Maleck to join them. “A Kalassai ship is on its way here. Something is up. Shall we go and find out?” he said when Maleck came over.

Maleck’s face changed instantly. Like James, he knew whatever the Kalassai ship was doing, it likely didn’t mean anything good. “Let us go and see,” he agreed.

The palace CnC was just a couple of minutes’ walk from the banqueting hall, and so James, Maleck and Nicholls were soon staring at a holo depiction of the Kalassai ship as it accelerated towards Earth. “No transmission from the ship yet?” James asked the Commodore in charge of Earth’s orbitals.

“Not yet Admiral. We hailed them when they entered the system and they responded with their transponder codes, but nothing more,” the Commodore answered.

“How long until they reach two-way communication range?” James asked next.

“Fifteen minutes,” the Commodore said.

“I guess we wait then,” James said to Maleck and Nicholls. To pass the time, he took control of the holo display and zoomed in on several of Maleck’s ships and began to ask a few questions. At least two were new designs he had seen go through the development stage, but hadn’t actually seen in person.

“They are in two-way communication range now, Emperor,” the Commodore reported.

James refocused on the Kalassai ship. “Hail them,” he requested.

Moments later, an image of a jellyfish-like Kalassai floating in the thick goo their ships were filled with appeared on the holo display. “Captain, I am Emperor Somerville. Welcome to the Sol system. What news do you bring?”

“Emperor Somerville, I am Captain Has’han. I wasn’t expecting to speak to you in person. I am glad I am, however, for I bring grave news. Your system was the closest with an FTL COM array to me when I discovered the intelligence I have, and so we rushed straight here. With your permission, I have a report I need to send to every Allied capital. I will send it to you now as well.”

“By all means,” James said as he gestured towards the Commodore to give the Kalassai ship permission to access their FTL COM array. “I presume you are returning from Karacknid space, what have you found?”

“There has been a battle, Emperor. Between Tanaka-lan and the two other contenders,” Has’han said. “Fara’man and Shu’gal tried to team up and take Gayla from Tanaka-lan. It was a trap. Tanaka-lan has developed some kind of advanced defense system, for he destroyed half of Shu’gal’s fleet in one volley, and his flagship destroyed Shu’gal’s, killing the contender. Fara’man’s fleet was also weakened, though he managed to escape. Since the battle, nearly two-thirds of Shu’gal’s worlds and fleets have sworn allegiance to Tanaka-lan.”

James felt the blood drain from his face. As he turned to Nicholls, he saw she was as white as he felt. Maleck looked just as concerned. If Tanaka-lan had defeated Shu’gal and taken the majority of his forces, then he was now the most powerful contender for the Karacknid title of Imperator. Given how successfully he had fought in the civil war whilst never holding a numerical advantage over his rivals, James had no doubt who was going to win in the final showdown between Fara’man and Tanaka-lan. And if he has new advanced weapons, James thought as his concern grew.

Ever so slightly, James shook his head. Since the attempted secession, things were going from bad to worse with the Flex-aor High Queen’s escape, and then the sudden appearance of the Protectorates. And now, this. “The Karacknid Civil War is entering its last phase,” he said, speaking his fears out loud. “And we are pulling thousands of ships from our frontlines to fight a meaningless war.” James’ jaw clenched. “We are throwing away ships we cannot afford to lose.”

“Yet we cannot abandon our Conclave allies nor the strategic advantage the Gift gives us,” Maleck said seriously. “These Protectorates may have sealed all our fates, despite everything we have tried to do to get ready for this day.”

An equal mix of rage and resolve filled James. “They haven’t yet,” he said forcefully. The news was bad, very bad. But nothing was set in stone yet. “Even with this victory, Tanaka-lan cannot turn his full strength against us just yet,” he said. “It will take him months, maybe even longer to finish off Fara’man. If that is all the time left, then we are going to use it.

“Nicholls, send word to Armageddon, inform her she is to prepare to break orbit. Dispatch messenger ships to all of our nearest colonies as well. I want every warship to make for the Gift.” James turned to face Maleck. “I’m coming with you, Admiral, me and every Imperial ship we can muster. It will leave Earth uncovered, but we must take the risk. This war must be brought to an end at once. We have no other choice!”

Chapter 23

As Sun Tzu famously teaches, you must know both yourself and your enemy to win in warfare. That truism is just as accurate for modern naval warfare as it was for ancient Chinese land battles. The problem in our modern era is that it is often extremely difficult to really get to know a foreign alien civilization. There are some however, who get the chance to do what others cannot.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Ten days earlier.

When Georgia slowly regained consciousness, she was assaulted by overwhelming amounts of pain. Every part of her body seemed to ache. The worst by far was her chest. The pain made it all but impossible to think. Where am I, she barely managed to ask herself. No answer came.

To try and calm her mind, she used a technique General Johnston had taught her. Thankfully, that memory at least came to her. Focusing on one point of pain, one of the least painful, she examined it intimately. Allowing it to fill her mind, she felt each throb that it sent through her body. Though it intensified the pain from that one spot, the others faded. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to start to try to think more clearly.

The first thing she did was access the neural link to her augments. Overriding their safety protocols, she increased the volume of painkillers they were releasing into her system. Quickly, for the pain from her body threatened to overwhelm her again, she returned to focusing on one particular pain in her calf muscle. Though it seemed to take an age, slowly but surely, Georgia started to feel the effects of the painkillers.

As her mind was able to think more clearly, she began to investigate her surroundings. First, she opened her eyes. Mostly, she was greeted by darkness. The darkness of space looked in on her through her cockpit window, while all but a few of her consoles appeared to be without power. When Georgia did tilt her head to look down at one small source of light, she shut her eyes with a hiss. The movement sent shivers of pain down her spine and bolts of agony through her mind.

Deciding to keep her eyes closed for the meantime, Georgia examined her body instead. The most pain was coming from her chest. Specifically, from several lines across her chest. She frowned, though it hurt. The pattern of the lines was familiar to her. It took a couple of seconds for it to come back, then she realized. It was the pattern of her flight seat’s harness. The realization brought a cascade of other memories with it. She remembered the Eaglaton ambush, and her charge against their fighters, then her desperate dogfight with the fighter with the sharp-toothed bird on it.

My cockpit ejected when I was hit, Georgia told herself. You’re alive and in your cockpit!.. Or what is left of it. To confirm her suspicion, she tried opening her eyes again, this time more slowly. Sure enough, the few stars she could make out were rotating. A stronger light started to come into view after a few seconds. Quickly, Georgia had to close her eyes again as the system’s star rotated into the view out her cockpit window. Despite the pain, she cracked the smallest of smiles. Her Hellcat had saved her! She wasn’t dead yet.

When the light from the star passed, Georgia tried opening her eyes once more, this time she looked down to her command consoles. Most of the screens and displays were dead. Only two seemed to be working. One told her how much charge was in her emergency batteries. Just enough to keep her mediocre life support systems going for another eight hours. The other was flashing at her, telling her that her emergency recovery COM unit had failed.

Georgia let out a curse, though it was immediately followed by a grunt of pain. The small sliver of hope that had started to rise within her vanished. She had already accepted she was going to die making her attack. But then, waking up to find herself alive, she had begun to hope again. The flashing light dashed any reason to entertain such thoughts.

Closing her eyes, Georgia leant back and tried to console herself. No one would have been coming for you, anyway. If they managed to fight off the Eaglaton fighters, they would have had to jump out right away to avoid the Protectorate garrison ships. You were on your own from the moment you turned to chase their fighters.

Though she knew it was all true, Georgia still cursed the irony that was going to leave her stranded. Her Hellcat had performed miraculously, holding together through everything she had put it through. Then, even after being hit and damaged, the automatic ejector flung her cockpit away from her Hellcat. It had saved her life. Only for her emergency COM unit to fail and leave her stranded!

So this is it, Georgia thought. Eight hours left, and then it’s all over. As it began to dawn on her just how hopeless her situation was, tears ran down her cheeks. It was one thing to die in battle, where the adrenalin and mental demands of combat kept her mind away from the possibility. It was another to face it sitting alone in a small cockpit in the dark. With nothing to distract her, Georgia couldn’t shy away from the reality she would soon be suffocating to death.

The horrific thought of dying in that way made Georgia’s hand move towards her cockpit’s release lever. She knew that if she opened her cockpit, she would be dead in seconds. It would be over so quickly she would hardly feel a thing. She couldn’t bring herself to grab the lever. Somehow, ending it that way felt like it cheapened her life and those of her pilots who had fought and died with her. They had each given every ounce of skill and grit they had to save as many of their friends’ lives as possible. If life was so dear, how could she cheapen it by voluntarily throwing it away? No, Georgia said to herself fiercely. If you’re going to die, it’s because someone has taken it from you, not because you gave up.

Determined to hold on as long as she could, and not wanting to think about what it would be like as she did run out of oxygen or heat, Georgia turned her mind to her family. She had lived a good life with them. Easily, she began to recall many of her happy memories. Most were from the occasional family holidays they had been able to take together to get away from the palace. Though her parents had worked harder than anyone else Georgia knew, they had always made time for her and her siblings. And though they had their fights, as they better came to understand the responsibility on all their shoulders, she and her siblings had become closer as well.

Of all of them, Georgia’s mind focused most on her twin. Growing up, they had always been close. Until she had joined the Navy’s pilot academy, they had barely gone a day or two without seeing each other. Somewhere back on Earth, he was working for Naval Intelligence. At least you are safe, she thought towards Edward, wondering if he would sense her death, though he was thousands of light years away. Somehow, she suspected he would know; at least, he would get a feeling something was wrong. She was sure she would feel it herself if something ever happened to him.

As she continued to let her heart and mind dwell on memory after memory, waves of grief kept threatening to wash over Georgia and start her crying again. She resisted each of them. For if she only had a few hours left, she wanted to spend them happy, full of thankfulness at the life she had been able to live, not full of sadness for what she was going to lose.

As she moved from memory to memory, Georgia lost track of time passing her by. Unnoticed at first, the stars in front of her flickered. They did so a number of times over the space of several minutes. However, it wasn’t until the system’s star was passing in front of her cockpit window, and something moved across in front of it to make it flicker, that Georgia was pulled from her memories.

Even then, she didn’t consciously realize something was happening. Instead, her instincts snapped her head up, sensing danger. She was just quick enough to make out a small shape passing out of view. For a second, she thought it had looked like something constructed. She shook her head at the idea. It had to have been an asteroid or meteor.

Just as she tried to return to the happy memory she had been reliving, however, the sunlight flickered again. This time, as her eyes flicked up, what she saw was unmistakable. It was some kind of shuttle! It was too far away to be sure, but Georgia thought it looked familiar. Her hope soared. Somehow, Maverick had sent a shuttle to get her! It had probably snuck back into the system after his ships had left. Georgia strained her eyes to try and make out more of the shuttle, or guess just how far away it was, but it moved out of sight too fast.

A few seconds later, another craft came into view. This one was much closer. At once, Georgia recognized it as the first object she had seen. Her hopes were ripped apart, for this craft Georgia could identify. It was an Eaglaton fighter! And not just any fighter, for her eyes were drawn to the insignia on its wing. It was a sharp-toothed winged bird.

As both craft continued to circle her cockpit, getting closer each time, Georgia didn’t know how to feel. That someone was going to rescue her was good. But she was about to become a prisoner of war, and though the Protectorates had demanded Human ships surrender enough times, she didn’t know what to expect. For all she knew, torture and a death worse than suffocating awaited her. Despite her fears though, she raised her chin. She would meet whatever came her way with resolve. No alien was going to break her.

Getting to work, Georgia pulled out all the data cores from her Hellcat’s console. Using her boot, she smashed them to pieces. Next, she grabbed her COM unit and her datapad, and wiped them of all classified materials. She also went through her personal items to make sure none of them would give away her identity. As far as the Eaglatons were concerned, she wanted them to think she was just another pilot.

Five minutes after spotting the alien ships, the Eaglaton fighter moved to within fifty meters of Georgia’s position. It was so close that she could see the feathered Eaglaton pilot looking at her out of his cockpit. He raised a feathered wing towards her. Georgia didn’t know if it was a greeting, or if he was checking to see if she was alive. Seeing no sense in pretending to be dead, she waved back.

Seconds later, the fighter disappeared, only to be replaced by the shuttle. More slowly, it extended a grappling hook towards her cockpit which attached itself with a clunk. Then Georgia felt a small g-force push her into her seat as the shuttle began to tow her, presumably back to its carrier. The pressure on her body elicited a groan from Georgia, for her body was still tender. Yet she savored the pain, allowing it to focus her mind as she prepared herself for whatever was to come.

Eventually, after almost forty-five minutes, another ship came into view. It quickly grew into a massive carrier, Georgia estimated it was almost ten times the size of Archimedes, bigger than even the largest Imperial carrier. It was also surrounded by fifty smaller dots that themselves grew into other warships. Though none were as impressive as the carrier.

The shuttle towed Georgia into one of the carrier’s landing bays, and then gently set her cockpit down. At once, six Eaglatons surrounded the cockpit. Georgia could only recognize them from the shape of their bodies, for they were covered head to talon in some kind of metallic ringed armor. It reminded Georgia of the chainmail she knew ancient medieval knights wore from the holo dramas she had watched with her brothers. They each had a rifle pressed to their shoulders with its muzzle pointed at her.

One Eaglaton stepped forward and gestured towards Georgia. Again, she didn’t know what it meant, but she could guess. Reaching for the hatch to her cockpit, she pulled it. Quickly, she raised her hands into the air as the cockpit’s canopy fell away. For several seconds, the Eaglatons simply stared at her, then the closest one gave another gesture. This time it was unmistakable, she was to come out.

Slowly, Georgia reached down with one hand to unbuckle her restraints. When they detached from her flight suit, Georgia nearly fell over. She grunted as a fresh wave of pain washed over her. Steeling her teeth, she nevertheless tried to stand. She had to hold onto the side of her cockpit to get up, but she made it. Thankfully, the soldiers parted to allow two unarmored Eaglatons to push what looked like steps over to the canopy. Georgia looked at them nervously. They didn’t have handrails, and the gaps between each stair was far larger than she was used to. As she looked back up at her captors, however, it didn’t appear as if they intended to offer any other help.

Holding on tightly to her cockpit, Georgia carefully raised a foot over her control console and lowered herself towards the first step. She paused for a second to make sure she had her balance. Then, with knees wobbling from the pain she was still in, she let go of the cockpit and fully stepped out onto the stairs. Determined not to fall and make a fool of herself, or hurt herself further, Georgia took her time descending, making sure her feet were secure before moving down.

As soon as both of her feet were touching the hanger’s deck, the Eaglaton soldiers moved in. Two grabbed her arms roughly, moving them behind her back causing Georgia to hiss in pain. She had to fight back the urge to use her augmented strength to rip her arms free. As a third placed some kind of cuffs over her wrists, another began to pat her down. At once, his hands moved to her hip, or more like clawed talons, Georgia realized as she followed the alien with her eyes, he expertly removed Georgia’s plasma pistol. Then he began fishing the rest of her possessions out of her pockets, before checking over the rest of her body. When he was done, he stepped back and nodded to another of the Eaglaton soldiers.

Only then did Georgia realize he was wearing some kind of rank insignia. “Human pilot,” the leader said. “You are now a prisoner of the Eaglaton Protectorate. You will be treated with compassion and kindness as per our laws. However, try to escape, or hurt one of our people, and your life may be forfeit. Do you understand?”

Hoping the Eaglatons would prove to be true to their word, Georgia nodded. “I know my people have taken a number of yours prisoner. We have treated them well. I am pleased to hear you will do the same.”

The Eaglaton leader didn’t respond to her words. Instead he turned back to his men. “Take her,” he simply ordered.

Four rough hands grabbed Georgia’s arms and forcefully moved her forward. Georgia had to bite back another grunt as fresh pain moved through her body. In that moment, she realized she had to make a choice. Either she could give in to the misery of her situation and the pain her body was in, or she could look outside herself. She was in an Eaglaton carrier, after all. She knew her brother in Naval Intelligence, and her father’s close friend Admiral Scott in the Bureau of Ship Design, would give almost anything to see the things she was about to see. So, she could either close herself off to the world around her, and lose herself in her own pity, or focus on something bigger.

Georgia chose something bigger, for though she held out little hope of actually being rescued, she needed to have a mission, and gathering intel was just the distraction she needed to get through whatever lay ahead. Raising her head, her eyes began to dart about. Mentally, she made a note of everything she saw. Anything of interest held her gaze for several seconds, as she filed it away, but there was so much to see, she couldn’t spare any more time than that.

One thing did make her stop, however. For as she was led towards a hatch that left the hanger, eight Eaglatons in a different sort of attire were standing. Each watched her like a hawk as she approached. If it wasn’t for the armed guards on either side of her, Georgia would have thought they intended to rip her apart with their talons right there and then. Yet they didn’t, instead they just silently watched, heads turning to follow her as she was led past. Only when Georgia looked away from their piercing eyes did she grasp what was happening. Each Eaglaton had an insignia on their right shoulder. It was the sharp-toothed bird. Up close Georgia could easily tell it was a bird of prey; clearly, the depiction was meant to make it seem as if the bird was about to dive down onto whatever it hunted.

Their crack pilots, Georgia realized. They had come to see the pilot who had shot down so many of their comrades. As Georgia raised her eyes once again, her gaze fell on the last Eaglaton pilot. When their eyes met, she instantly knew she was looking at the pilot who had shot her down. The same one who had come to find her damaged cockpit. A measure of respect passed between them, something Georgia hadn’t expected to feel for an enemy. Not when she had grown up preparing to fight the Karacknids and Flex-aor. Before she was led away, she nodded to the Eaglaton. He in turn tilted his beak towards her. Nothing else was said or done, but Georgia knew she had earned the pilots’ approval.

Maybe they are not so bad after all, Georgia thought to herself as she was led down a long corridor. And maybe we’re not so different either. Certainly having an insignia of a fearsome predatory animal was very Human-like. Slowly, Georgia felt her hopes rising. Maybe being a prisoner of war wasn’t going to be totally horrendous after all.

Chapter 24

The sudden appearance of the Antarians took us all by surprise. All except those who conjured them up from the shadows.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Whatever hope Georgia started to feel began to fade when she was led to what had to be the carrier’s brig. Without even so much of a word of welcome or warning, the soldiers handed her off to two new Eaglatons. In silence, they removed her cuffs, led her into a smallish cell, and then turned and left, the door closing and locking behind them.

For three days, she was left on her own. The only way she had to pass the time was to count the meals she received and number of shift jumps the carrier carried out. By her estimation, she was given three meals every twenty-four hour period, and they had passed through two systems in that time. If it wasn’t for the food, Georgia would have thought the Eaglatons were trying to torture her with solitary confinement. Yet the food had been surprisingly enjoyable. Though different than any food she was used to it appeared as if the Eaglatons were trying to give her things to eat that would resemble Human food. At least, she had eaten something that tasted close to chicken, and had eaten several different attempts at what was clearly trying to be bread. It seemed as if someone had done their homework.

The second thing that made her think they weren’t really torturing her was also the thing that was starting to drive her mad. Since her capture, no one had interrogated her. No one had even asked her name or rank, never mind sought out any of the other valuable information she was privy to. All her concerns, and all her mental preparation, were turning out to be for nothing. Except, Georgia wondered if it was a ploy. If they were waiting for her to let her guard down, then she needed to be ready at a moment’s notice to resist whatever interrogation tactics they had planned.

Yet as her first day turned into two and then three, Georgia started to think they really didn’t plan to grill her for information. It was something she simply didn’t understand. Every single Protectorate prisoner that the Imperial navy had captured had been interrogated, no matter how low their rank. Being completely ignored left Georgia with the impression the Eaglatons didn’t think her worth their time.

The only consolation was that it meant they didn’t know who she was. More than being interrogated, what Georgia feared most was being used as a bargaining chip. If the Eaglatons found out she was the Emperor’s daughter, they could try and use her as a hostage. They could threaten her life if the Imperial Navy didn’t pull back from its attacks on Protectorate worlds. That was a decision Georgia didn’t want her friends to have to face.

Her isolation eventually broke on what she thought was the morning of her fourth day of captivity. For when her cell was opened to deliver her breakfast, an Eaglaton in what looked like a naval officer’s uniform stepped into her cell. He motioned for Georgia to sit on the seat on the opposite end of the cell. Then, once she had done so, he lifted another one of the seats and sat as far from Georgia as he could.

“You’ll have to excuse my caution,” he said as he sat and waved a feathered arm towards Georgia, “but we have carried out a detailed scan of your body, and you have some pretty impressive augments. There are also two armed guards just outside the cell.”

“I understand your caution,” Georgia said. “I am an unknown threat. But, if you do not try to harm me, I will not try to harm you.”

“Good,” the officer said, his tone brightening. “That is a good start. My name is Lieutenant Grufus. I am the Third Lieutenant of this ship.”

“And I am a Flight Leader in the Imperial Navy. My name is Georgia,” Georgia said, intentionally not giving her last name.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Flight Leader Georgia,” Grufus said. “Though I am sorry it is under such circumstances. I hope you understand the caution with which you have been treated. Your people have attacked our worlds. If we were another species, we might have put you on trial and sentenced you to death already for the crimes against our civilians.”

Georgia smiled. “Your Protectorate allies attacked our worlds first; we have just been returning the favor. I am sorry they do not like it. Perhaps next time, you both will think twice before attacking peaceful species.”

Grufus stared at Georgia for several seconds and then gave something close to a shrug. “It is not my job to debate the morality of this war. We are here to defend our allies from your aggression, that is all I need to know.”

Georgia nodded. Arguing against the lies she knew the Protectorate believed about her people with a lowly Third Lieutenant wasn’t worth her time. “So what then do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Third Lieutenant Grufus?”

“Two things,” Grufus said, coming straight to the point. “First, I have been placed in charge of your welfare. So I want to ask, how has your stay with us been so far? Have we been treating you well?”

“Well enough,” Georgia replied. “The food has been surprisingly adequate. Though the company has been somewhat lacking.”

Grufus’ beak split apart. “Your people have a sense of humor, that is good. And, I am pleased to hear our food has met your standards. Our chefs do have a limited knowledge of your nutritional requirements. As for the company, I’m afraid we have strict orders to keep you from interacting with our crew. I am the only exception. Though, I have brought you this.”

Reaching into a pocket in his uniform, Grufus pulled out Georgia’s datapad. He set it on the floor and slid it over to her with his foot. “It took our technicians some time to crack the encryption on this. Your computer techs are good. You’ll be happy to know we didn’t manage to recover any useful intelligence. The wipe of this device’s memory was particularly effective. I’ve taken the liberty of adding some of our own texts to those you have here. I thought they would help you pass the time.”

Georgia reached down and picked up the datapad. She was more than a little impressed that the Eaglatons had managed to crack its encryption, for all Imperial military devices used Varanni encryption technology. As she tapped the datapad to activate it, she scrolled through to see what was still available. Her system wipe had destroyed anything marked as secret. All that was left to her were some games and the collections of novels she had stored on it. In the new files, she saw a number of titles Grufus mentioned. The first that caught her eye was ‘The Rise of the Eaglaton Republic.’ Propaganda, she was sure, but it might be interesting to find out just what the Eaglatons wanted her to think about them, nonetheless.

“Thank you for this,” Georgia said as she nodded to Grufus. “This will help pass the time.”

“It is a small gesture, but an important one,” Grufus said. “For it would be cruel to leave you here with nothing to distract yourself with. In part, that is also why I am here. If you wish, I am happy to talk with you. We can speak about whatever you wish.”

Georgia considered the offer. No doubt, Grufus and his superiors wanted her talking as much as possible, for the more she said, the more chance there was she would give something away. As she thought about it, that possibly explained her isolation. They were allowing her to get desperate before introducing someone to talk to. Yet she did have many questions of her own. Only, they were unlikely to be ones Grufus wanted to answer. “Perhaps you can tell me where we are going?” Georgia asked, decided she may as well try.

Grufus’ beak split apart again in what Georgia was starting to think was an Eaglaton smile. “I am afraid that is classified information, Flight Leader Georgia. I cannot share that with you.”

“What about your plans for me? Am I to stay in this cell for the duration of the war?” Georgia asked next.

Grufus shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that is not something I have knowledge of. I doubt you will be staying with us for long, but what the fleet senior commanders will wish to do after that, I cannot say.”

Georgia paused for a moment, considering if there were any other questions she could ask that Grufus might be able to answer, and that would actually be useful to her. None came to her. “I think then, that is all the questions I have for now.”

“There’s nothing else you’d like to speak of?” Grufus asked leaning forward. “You could speak of your homeworld, or your family, or ask me about mine. We can speak of things that would not be considered intelligence as much as you like. I offer this not to trick you, but to allow you some sentient interaction.”

“And I appreciate the offer,” Georgia replied. “Perhaps tomorrow, if you plan to return.” Georgia tapped her datapad. “There is much in here that I wish to read. Perhaps I will have questions about the books you have shared with me tomorrow.”

Grufus stood. “In that case, Flight Leader, I will respect your privacy. I will return tomorrow, and hopefully, we can speak some more. Though if you need me before then, just call for the guard and ask for me, and I will come.”

“Thank you,” Georgia said, finding that she meant it. “For treating me as you have, and for the datapad.”

Grufus gave Georgia a small bow. “Think nothing of it Flight Leader. You may be our enemy, but we would not mistreat you, now that you have surrendered. It would dishonor us as much as it would hurt you.”

Georgia wanted to point out that she hadn’t surrendered, but she thought better of it. Instead, she returned Grufus’s bow, desiring to show she did appreciate how she was being treated.

“Until tomorrow then,” Grufus said before stepping out of the cell. The door swished securely shut behind him.

Standing, Georgia took her time moving over to collect her breakfast. Though she desperately wanted to start reading through the information on her datapad, she moved slowly, certain that she was being watched. She didn’t want to give the impression she actually was desperate. When she was done, she carefully wiped her mouth and fingers with the cloth provided. Only then did she take up her datapad again, move to her bed and sat down and began to read.

What she found confused and fascinated her. Over the course of almost twelve hours, with just short breaks for her next meals, Georgia devoured several of the books Grufus had given her. The first charted the five hundred year rise of the Eaglaton people, their Republic, from its unification struggles to its first colonies. The second outlined how the Republic reached out to its neighbors over six hundred years to form the Protectorate. Mostly the process was peaceful, yet at times, it required military conflict. Other books delved more deeply into one particular time period or another.

The books left Georgia with three stark impressions. First, if she didn’t know better, she could almost think she was reading an alternative history of Earth. Yes, the Eaglatons didn’t fight each other half as much as Humanity’s different nations did, yet both species’ history was one of the struggle between democratic republics and more totalitarian forms of government. Even the way the Eaglatons reached out to their neighbors and sought to trade and protect them was similar to how Humanity had befriended the Vestarians, Varanni Alliance, and the species of the Conclave.

The second impression was that it seemed like things had worked out almost perfectly for the Eaglatons for centuries. Without the Flex-oar or the Karacknids, the formation of the Protectorate had been relatively easy. Even accepting that the histories were being told from the victor’s perspective, time and time again, events and occurrences had gone in the Eaglaton’s favor. Reading their history almost felt more like reading through a chart set down by one mind laying out how they wished to expand the power and influence of the Eaglatons over centuries. In that aspect, the Eaglatons’ history was very different to Humanity’s, for Georgia knew from personal experience that her people had been forced to fight for everything they now had.

The final impression Georgia was left with could be summed up in what appeared to be the Eaglatons’ favorite word, honor. When talking about his encounter with Commodore Gifosous, Georgia’s brother had likened him to the samurai of Imperial Japan. Georgia only had a passing knowledge of that period of Earth’s history, but she got his analogy. For her, much of the talk in the books she had read sounded like the Eaglatons would love the imagery of medieval knights and their chivalry. It appeared, at least in their propaganda, that the Eaglatons wanted themselves to be seen as a species of honor and compassion, one focused on the rights of every sentient species. Hence, the formation of the Eaglaton Protectorate, where they assured the freedom and rights of every sentience under their control.

On paper, it all sounded wonderful. There was just one small problem for Georgia, if what she had read was even half true, why had the Eaglatons permitted their allies to attack Humanity? There was no honor in attacking a democratic neighbor. Especially not in launching a surprise invasion without even attempting to open diplomatic relations.

When tiredness finally caught up to Georgia, she set her datapad down and switched off her cell’s light. Sleep didn’t come to her quickly, though, for tens of questions kept running through her mind. She had learned much, even if it was only partly true, that would be useful to her mother and father and the rest of the Empire’s leaders. But I may never get to share it with them, Georgia thought in sadness as sleep finally took her.

The next five days began a new pattern for Georgia. She would wake up before breakfast and begin reading through a new book. Then, after her morning meal, Grufus would visit her. At first, she tried to ask him more probing questions, trying to get behind some of the mere interesting details in the book he had shared. Yet he was careful not to reveal anything that would come close to military intelligence.

Giving up, Georgia eventually started asking more personal questions as she tried to understand the Eaglatons better by understanding exactly who Grufus was. For his part, he was happy to do most of the talking, and didn’t try to pry anything out of her. Instead, on the third day, he brought a board game that he said was popular among his people. More like Go than chess, it took Georgia a couple of tries to grasp it, but when she did, she quickly began to enjoy it. From then on, their conversations always took place across the board from one another.

She then spent her afternoons and evenings alone, though she had plenty to do, for Grufus was able to provide her with as many books as she was able to consume. None dealt with any topics that were less than a hundred years old, but in all of them, Georgia was able to learn much about her people’s enemy.

Most of it was quite concerning, like she now knew there were eighteen species in the Eaglaton Protectorate. And that the Rasmorse, Tolodons, and Higarians, the ones her people had encountered so far, were not counted among the most numerous. She also got the impression that though the Eaglatons allowed each species to build and crew their own warships, the Eaglatons took primary responsibility for the protection of every system in their space. If that were true, Georgia feared it meant that so far, Humanity had only seen a small fraction of the Eaglaton Protectorate’s true military strength.

Despite those concerns, however, Georgia slowly started to dream that the war did not have to end in the mutual destruction of each civilization’s navies. If the Eaglatons were even half as honorable as they liked to think, there had to be a way to find a negotiated peace. Georgia was certain that whatever lies the Eaglatons had been told could be countered. And if they could be countered, then there was a chance the Eaglatons could see Humanity for who they really were; a species whom they had far more in common with than they realized.

As long as she was stuck in her cell, however, with only Grufus to talk to, who would not listen if she ever tried to turn the conversation towards the war, there was no way for her to see her dream come true. All that changed, however, on her twelfth day of captivity.

Chapter 25

A student of Humanity’s early history will soon discover that in some wars, such as WWII, there were clear lines between those in the right, and those in the wrong, at least, as clear as lines can be in war. Yet in many others, from a certain perspective, either side could rightly claim a degree of moral justification. Sadly, the latter rather than the former describes many of the wars that our species fought amongst itself. Just as tragic, it has been the same in many of the wars our Empire has fought in as well.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

On the twelfth day in her cell on the Eaglaton carrier, Georgia’s breakfast didn’t come. Nor did Lieutenant Grufus. Instead, minutes after she felt the carrier jump out of shift space, her cell door opened to reveal four Eaglaton soldiers. They stepped in, their rifles pointed at her. “We are moving you,” the only soldier with a rank insignia said. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Georgia complied and quickly her hands were handcuffed. Without explanation, she was directed out of her cell and led through the carrier. At least, the soldiers treated her more gently than when they had taken her to her cell before. Eventually, she found herself back in what she thought was the same hangar bay her cockpit had been towed into. Looking around, there was no sign of it. Instead, there was one shuttle with an access ramp open. The soldiers led her towards it.

As she approached, Grufus descended the access ramp. “I’m sorry for not being able to come and escort you myself, but the orders came at short notice. You’re being transferred to another ship. That’s all I can say,” he added as a look of concern came across Georgia’s face. “Rest assured you will be treated as fairly there as here. Come on, let’s get you seated and buckled in. I had your breakfast delivered here so you can eat it on the flight.”

The soldiers took Georgia up the shuttle’s ramp, undid her cuffs, and made sure she was securely strapped into her flight seat. A locking mechanism made sure she couldn’t release herself. Grufus sat beside her and handed her a sealed plate when her hands were free. Georgia held off eating as she looked around. Sadly, the shuttle’s viewport seemed to be darkened, no doubt to keep her from seeing anything she shouldn’t.

“Do you know this new ship?” She asked Grufus, trying to glean something from him.

Grufus smiled. “I do, but I can’t say anything more than that.”

Deciding she wasn’t going to learn anything, Georgia opened her plate and began to eat. She hoped wherever she was being taken would provide the same quality of food she had been eating, but just in case, she thought she better eat what Grufus had provided.

The shuttle flight lasted just ten minutes but in her small talk with Grufus, Georgia learned nothing more about where she was going or what was going to happen to her. When the shuttle landed, Grufus unbuckled her as the shuttle’s ramp descended. To Georgia’s surprise, they weren’t met by a fresh group of soldiers. Instead, a single Eaglaton officer in the same uniform Grufus wore awaited them. “Vice Admiral Reverus sent me to escort you both. If you will follow me,” the Eagleton said as he began to turn.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Grufus said in a tone that told Georgia he was the junior of the two Lieutenants.

Once again, as she was led through another Eaglaton ship, Georgia kept her eyes open. She couldn’t help getting the impression she was in a larger ship again than the carrier she had been imprisoned upon. If that were true, then she had to be on a warship as large, if not larger, than the biggest Imperial Dreadnought. Though she could see very little of its systems, from what she did see, it seemed like a well-run ship.

“We are here,” the Lieutenant said when they came to a halt in front of two large doors. There was writing in Eaglaton above them but though Georgia could recognize the letters, having started to learn them from Grufus, she didn’t know what they meant.

Wanting to thank Grufus for his hospitality, Georgia turned to him. For the first time since meeting him, he had a blank expression on his face. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” their guide asked.

Grufus gave himself a visible shake. “No problem, Lieutenant. The prisoner is ready to proceed.” He turned to Georgia. “This is where we part ways, Flight Leader. It may be that our paths do not cross again. Of that, I am sorry. I hope you will remember me fondly.”

“Indeed I will, Lieutenant,” Georgia said with genuine warmth. “I will miss our games together. It is a pity we have met as adversaries and not friends. A pity for us and for our civilizations.”

Grufus surprised Georgia by nodding at her words. Then, realizing what he had done, he glanced at the senior Lieutenant beside him, fought back the guilty look that crossed his face, and then surprised Georgia again by holding out his talon in a very Human gesture. “Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Georgia repeated back as she shook hands with her captor. They shared one more look, and then Grufus turned and began walking back towards the hanger bay.

Georgia turned back to her guide and looked at him expectantly. Instead of saying anything, he reached forward and swiped his talon along the door’s access panel. Both sides swished open. The Lieutenant then stepped halfway across the threshold. “Vice Admiral Reverus, I bring to you the prisoner from Carrion.”

Georgia’s eyebrows rose, both at the Lieutenant’s words and the sight that greeted her. She had been expecting another cell, not the regal palace-like room that greeted her. And instead of a guard, she was being presented to a Vice Admiral! When the only Eaglaton in the room stood up from behind a desk, Georgia’s eyebrows rose further. He was the biggest Eaglaton she had yet met. She now knew from the books she had read and from Grufus that his size probably meant he was quite old for an Eaglaton. Just as impressive as his height was his attire. Though the uniform resembled the one Grufus wore, it was far more decorative. It also seemed to fit the Vice Admiral’s form better as it swayed with his feathers as he stepped around his desk.

The surprises didn’t end as the Vice Admiral spoke to her. “Flight Leader Somerville, thank you for joining me. Please, come into my office.”

Panic flew through Georgia. They had known exactly who she was all along! That explained why she was being brought to see a Vice Admiral. Whatever the Eaglaton had planned for her, she doubted it would be good.

“Don’t be shy, Georgia,” Reverus said. “Please, treat my office as you would your own home. As long as you are with me, you are as much a guest here as a prisoner.”

Warily, Georgia stepped over the threshold into the ornate office. “In that case, I thank you for your hospitality,” she said, deciding to play the appreciative prisoner, at least until she found out what was really happening.

“Good,” Reverus said as his beak split into a smile. “Take a seat with me. Since I heard of your capture, I’ve been eager to meet with you.”

“Have your people known who I was from the beginning?” Georgia asked as she moved to the seat Reverus gestured towards. When she sat, he did so as well.

“Not at first, but we knew one of the Imperial heirs was a skilled pilot. It wasn’t hard for our intelligence analyst to put two and two together,” Reverus answered. “Now, since I know who you are, let me introduce myself. I am Vice Admiral Reverus, senior commander of the Eaglaton Protectorate forces of the Northern Sector.”

Georgia was even more impressed. She knew from her reading; the Eagleton Protectorate was split into four sectors. The Northern sector covered the worlds of at least five of their species. He has come to take over responsibility for the war, Georgia realized. She couldn’t help but feel fear for her friends, for if Reverus and his Eaglaton ships were just joining the war now, the Protectorates numbers were about to swell.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Vice Admiral,” Georgia said, squashing her fears and projecting as controlled a tone as she had seen her mother do often.

Reverus was by far the most senior Eaglaton anyone had yet come into contact with. Though she was a prisoner, she was now also a representative of the Human Empire. She needed to channel her mother now more than at any other time in her life. “I am just sorry it is under such circumstances. From what I have learned of your people, our two civilizations should be meeting as friends, not enemies,” she added, determined to try and undo whatever lies had begun the war.

Reverus didn’t immediately respond to her words. Instead, he stared at her for several seconds. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning, but I am glad we are able to meet like this. I must say, you come to me with quite the reputation. My pilots speak well of you. Word of the talents you displayed at Genese and at Ismore are already spreading throughout my fleet. I am glad that we captured you, or my pilots might be going into battle with a hesitation they do not need.”

“I thank you for your compliment,” Georgia said, “and I am genuinely sorry that I have had to use those skills to kill Protectorate pilots and ships. I would far rather be defending my species’ worlds from the Karacknids or Flex-aor.”

Again, Reverus stared at her for a moment, then he shifted in his seat. “The Karacknids I know, may I ask, who are these Flex-aor?”

Georgia saw no reason to hide anything about the Flex-aor. “They are an alien race that we encountered nearly four decades ago. Before meeting us, we believe they exterminated seven other sentient species. That is their goal, to eradicate this galaxy of all sentient life and take it for themselves. When we first encountered them, they destroyed one of our colonies, killing everyone on it. More recently, they attacked another one of our worlds, again killing everyone. Both times, we have fought them off, but they are still bent on our destruction.”

“I am genuinely sorry to hear that,” Reverus replied. “No sentient species should seek to kill another. That is one of the founding principles of our Protectorate.”

Georgia held her tongue. Now was not the time for harsh rebuttals. Instead, she tried to gain more of Reverus’ trust. “May I ask in return, what became of my squadron after my fighter was damaged?”

Reverus folded his two wings in front of his chest. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. They successfully managed to fight off the fighters that attacked them, though two ships had to be scuttled. The rest fled back to Genese.” Reaching forward, Reverus tapped a button on his desk. Behind him, to his left, a view screen switched on.

Georgia recognized the planet in the background instantly. It was Genese. The image also showed an array of warships in the foreground, presumably some of the fleet that was in formation around Reverus’ flagship. Georgia estimated there were over two hundred in view. That Reverus had no problem showing her the ship suggested he had many more with him. Or perhaps that is what he wants me to think.

“As you can see,” Reverus said as he gestured towards Genese, “your squadron is not here now. When we arrived in system a day ago, only a small number of your ships were here. They fled as soon as we revealed ourselves. I take it your Admiral Becket never really intended to capture this colony, did she?”

Georgia didn’t answer. She wasn’t privy to all of Admiral Becket’s plans, but even the little she did know, she wasn’t going to divulge now.

Reverus smiled again. “Your silence is understandable. But, I didn’t think this was the real attack, anyway. Genese is too far from your supply bases. No, your fleet’s real target is further north, and given the location of this diversionary thrust, I presume it will fall in the region of Farvul’vian.”

Georgia didn’t respond, though she couldn’t help her face from tightening.

Reverus saw it. “Good, that is just as I expected, and where we are headed next. Though I fear she is already too far ahead of me. You see, this war has caught my fleet somewhat out of position. Your brother’s discovery of our fleet base at Farvul’vian caused Admiral Lvant to push up our timetable too quickly. No matter, for soon, we will get things back on track.”

Georgia couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You know this war is pointless. Our two civilizations are more alike than you know. We too value the life of every sentient. We too value the right of each species to democratically rule themselves,” she said, though she was speaking too quickly, she couldn’t help it. “Your war against us appears to go against every value of honor, chivalry, and compassion that I am told your species and your Protectorate stands for.”

“Ahh,” Reverus said as he laid his wings on his office table. “This is what I have been warned about. From your brother’s first encounter with Admiral Lvant, your people have been pushing these lies. You know we have the beating of you, and so you are trying to sway us from war.”

Georgia shook her head. “You’re wrong on a number of counts, Vice Admiral. One, we didn’t even know about your Protectorate’s existence a year ago. When my brother encountered Admiral Lvant, that was the first time we heard of you. The words he spoke then did not come from fear, but were simply the truth. And I speak the same words now, when our fleets are on the edge of your borders assaulting your worlds. I promise you, if you had not attacked us first, we would want nothing but peace and friendship between our two civilizations.”

The talons on Reverus’ nearest wing clenched together. “We have had a cordial discussion up to this point, Flight Leader, but now you lie to me.”

“How so?” Georgia interjected. “From what I’ve been led to believe, your Protectorate has known about us for several years. I’m sure a commander of your skill has sent out scout ships to recon our worlds and our defenses. Have you seen us building up forces to defend ourselves from you? Have we been moving fleets in to prepare for a war?”

“Over the last twenty years, since your Empire conquered the Conclave species, there has been a sizeable military build-up near our borders,” Reverus countered.

Georgia nodded. “There has. But surely, someone with your strategic expertise has recognized our intentions. You are aware of the Karacknids, are you not? All of our military build-up, all of our fleets, are arrayed against them. And not simply to defend ourselves, but to defend our Conclave allies, species which have willingly joined us. There has been no conquest.”

“And so, the lies continue,” Reverus said as he sat back in his chair, “I fear this conversation may have run its course.”

Georgia sat forward. “You said you looked forward to speaking with me. Then I ask you, please consider seriously what I have to say. There are facts that you must be aware of that cannot be ignored. Have you not been gathering intelligence on our worlds and our fleets? Am I lying when I say our defenses have all been orientated towards facing the Karacknids? Is that not why Admiral Lvant’s surprise attack was nearly so successful?”

Reverus opened his beak to speak, but then he hesitated. “Perhaps you speak some truths mixed in with your lies to make them more believable, I will concede that. We have known for several years now that your forces have all been deployed along your border with the Karacknids. Though that is understandable, for you wish to keep the conquests you made in your war against them.”

Georgia fought to keep herself under control. She had to accept she couldn’t debunk every lie Reverus currently believed, she had to focus on one she had the best chance of countering. “I thank you for that, Vice Admiral. For what I know of your civilization, I know you value the truth. It is what gives me hope that this conversation may yet prove fruitful.”

“If your hope is to convince me to stop prosecuting this war against your civilization, then I’m afraid you will not find the fruit you hope for,” Reverus replied. “Eaglaton Intelligence is impeccable. We know who you and your Empire really are.”

“You know what you have been told,” Georgia countered. “Perhaps what your intelligence agents have been told. But can you not consider the possibility that they are wrong? Or that they have been misled? For if so, it means this entire war is being fought for no reason. You have already admitted the truth that until you attacked us, our military forces had no interest in making war against your Protectorate. Consider these additional truths.”

Quickly, before Reverus could interject, Georgia began to work through the list of things she had rehearsed in her cell in the event she did get to meet an Eaglaton representative. “By now, you must have received scout reports that confirm warships from each of the five Conclave species are fighting alongside our fleets. And they are doing so freely, and even at times, independently. They are not fighting as slaves who wish to be liberated, but as our equals who value their freedom.

“The same is true of our other allies. The Vestarians, our close neighbors, have sent warships through the Gift wormhole to fight alongside us, ships that are now a part of Admiral Becket’s fleet. Would species we have conquered so willingly fight alongside us?”

Reverus held Georgia’s gaze. “They might, if they feared repercussions for not fighting. In our history, the Eaglaton Protectorate has fought two liberation wars. In both, the species we were fighting to liberate initially fought with their masters. It took them some time to realize we truly offered them freedom. Now, they are keen members of the Protectorate. The same may be true of the Conclave species and even these Vestarians, in time.”

“Then what of the Dudl’lons? You must have scouts watching their system. Have you not seen how we have treated them?” Georgia asked. “When your contacts lied to them and tricked them into constructing gas mining facilities you intended to use in your war against us, we were honest with them. Even when we realized we needed to destroy the facilities, we came and offered them a trade. Where we could have just destroyed everything in their system, we instead gave up valuable resources and technologies in exchange for the destruction of their gas mining stations.”

Reverus didn’t answer right away. When he did, his tone softened, though only slightly. “I will admit, that is one peculiarity I have wondered about. You could have simply destroyed everything they had built, but you did not. And yet, it has turned out well for you, has it not? As I understand it, the Dudl’lons now wish to side with you, despite the truthful warnings we gave them. That has given your fleet another supply base from which to defend yourselves.”

Georgia smiled for the first time in their conversation. “You are exactly correct, Vice Admiral. In this, your intelligence officers have made no mistake. The Dudl’lons have chosen to join with us. We did not force them, we have not conquered them, they have made a free choice. Just as have all our other allies. Moreover, if we truly are at Genese, and you have retaken the system, then you know how we treated your people when we captured this system. Beyond what can be used by your military, we have not destroyed any civilian stations, nor have we caused any damage to the colony itself. If we really wanted to cause as much damage to the Rasmorse civilization as possible, we could have nuked their cities, or landed hundreds of thousands of marines to occupy the colony.”

Reverus smiled back at Georgia. “The intelligence I have on your parents says your mother is a skilled politician. It seems some of that has rubbed off on you. I concede both your points. But I am not sure what you think it changes.”

“Only that it shows we are not the monsters you think we are,” Georgia answered. “And that I fear you will one day come to realize your people have made a grave mistake. For sooner or later, you will see that neither the Conclave species, nor the Vestarians, nor any of our other allies need liberating. Then you will understand this entire war is being fought for no reason. That hundreds of thousands, if not millions of lives are being wasted for nothing.”

Reverus raised his shoulders, ruffling his feathers. “Do you know, I wish you were speaking the truth. I have dedicated my life to protecting the species of our northern sector. Launching a war of aggression, even in the name of liberation, is not what I wish to be doing. However, our intelligence services have spent many years observing and investigating your Empire. Our decision to drive you from this sector of space was not taken lightly. Wiser and more honorable leaders than I have deemed this war necessary. Your lies and arguments cannot undo that. The Conclave species will be free, sooner or later.”

Georgia looked away from Reverus. She could tell from his tone she had lost. There was no convincing him. Even if she had found the smallest of cracks in his armor, he was not going to budge. He was not even open to the possibility of budging. Georgia felt deflated and more scared now than ever. Whoever had perpetrated the lies about her Empire had done an excellent job. Reverus was certain he was in the right. Whether he was being lied to by his superiors, or someone else, he was not for backing down. Which meant many more people on both sides were going to die. Georgia couldn’t help the tear that formed as she blinked several times. They are all going to die for nothing, she thought as she shook her head.

“You are upset, Flight Leader. I am sorry for that, but I’m afraid if you hoped the lies your people have been spreading would convince me, you were mistaken,” Reverus said, his voice actually sounding like he spoke with compassion.

Georgia turned back and held Reverus’ gaze. “I am upset because of all the lives that will be lost for no good reason,” she replied. “That is all.”

Reverus clenched his beak together as he observed her. “If your regret is genuine, then I commend you for it,” he eventually said. “I too mourn the lives already lost. And those that will be lost in the weeks to come. But, the Eaglaton Protectorate will always do what is necessary to defend our values.”

Georgia nodded. “As will the Human Empire and our allies. Which is what makes this war so tragic.”

Reverus turned from her and looked at Genese. For nearly half a minute, he didn’t speak. Georgia concluded their conversation was over, but she didn’t want to move without permission. She was still a prisoner after all.

Finally, he did turn around again. “I’m sorry Flight Leader, that this conversation has gone as it has. Though in hindsight, I suppose it was always going to be this way. On these issues, we are not going to see eye to eye. However, I hope that will not ruin our times together.”

Georgia frowned and Reverus smiled. “Yes, I hope you are willing to meet with me again. That is why I had you transferred to my flagship. I have many other questions about your species and your parents, and most especially the Karacknids. Though now, I fear I may have to decipher between what I believe are lies and truths, nevertheless, I still believe we could become friends, of a sort.”

“Our conversation has been heated,” Georgia agreed. “But that is to be expected. For now, at least, we are enemies. Though that does not mean that we should not continue to speak. It is through open dialogue that enemies may become friends. That is my hope, both for you and me, and for our two civilizations.”

Reverus nodded. “On that, I think we can both agree. I do hope there is a day when our two civilizations can become friends. Though I suspect we may differ on the terms that friendship would be built upon, and the changes within your Empire such a friendship would require. Nevertheless, it is a common goal we can share.”

“Then I hope our conversations will prove productive,” Georgia replied.

“As do I,” Reverus agreed. He tapped a button on his desk. “My Lieutenant will return momentarily to escort you to your cell. I’ve had one of my staff officer’s quarters prepared for you. It is as comfortable as we can make it for one of your species. My officer will meet your needs, but if there is anything he cannot do for you, you may bring it up with me when we next meet.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Vice Admiral,” Georgia said as she stood and gave Reverus a small bow. “And for speaking with me, even if we do not see eye to eye.” Behind her, the door into Reverus’ office opened and the same Lieutenant stepped in.

“Go and get settled in,” Reverus said as he gestured towards the Lieutenant. “We will speak again.”

Georgia nodded, turned, and allowed the Lieutenant to lead her away. As the doors closed behind her, she was left with a mixture of emotions. For the leader of the Eaglaton fleet that would be making war against her people, Reverus had been surprisingly cordial, even friendly. Despite the very serious differences they had, it gave her hope. They have been lied to badly, she was certain. They just need someone to force them to see the truth. Filled with a new resolve, despite being a prisoner of war, Georgia walked with a spring in her step towards her new cell. She had work to do!

Chapter 26

Next to the Kulreans and the Varanni, the Eaglatons proved to be the most impressive species the Empire encountered during its first century. Sadly, this impression came from their prowess in war rather than in diplomacy.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

As the Human Flight Leader walked out of his office, Vice Admiral Reverus chuckled to himself. If Georgia Somerville had thought she could keep her identity a secret during her captivity, she was more naïve than she appeared. Within seconds of her opening her mouth, it had been clear she was no mere Flight Leader. She spoke exactly how Reverus expected a Princess to talk. And she spoke to me of democracy! He thought as he chuckled again. The idea of a King or an Emperor was anathema to his people. That was even one of the stipulations enforced upon any civilization that wished to join the Protectorate; they had to get rid of every kind of hereditary title from their political and cultural systems.

Still, she wasn’t too stuck up, he admitted to himself. And though he wasn’t going to admit it to her, she had caused him to think. Partly it was her arguments, weak as they were. More though, it was Georgia herself. Begrudgingly, Reverus had to admit she didn’t come across as the daughter of a bloodthirsty warrior. Nor indeed as a Flight Leader hell-bent on the conquest of all those around her. When she spoke of peace, there had been genuine emotion in her voice. Either she is an excellent actress, or there is some truth to her claims.

Opening up a file on his datapad, Reverus jotted down a number of questions. He would send them on to Protectorate Intelligence for them to ponder. Several of Georgia’s claims would be easy to verify, especially when his ships started taking prisoners. When he was done, Reverus took half an hour to replay his conversation with the Human Princess in his mind to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. This is going to be fun, he thought to himself as he looked forward to the conversations he would have with the Princess in the future. He was going to enjoy their mental duels.

And we will have to get her in a simulator, he decided. He wanted to know if she really was as good as his pilots from First Squadron claimed. The simulator technicians would have to figure out a way to make sure she didn’t learn any secrets whilst in the simulator, but Reverus figured that shouldn’t be too hard. And maybe we can learn something from her.

Not long after he was finished reviewing his notes, Reverus’ desk beeped to tell him his next appointment had arrived. Though Reverus had spoken to this particular guest a hundred times before, he took a moment to compose himself, for he knew that if he let it, his anger would get the better of him. When he was ready, he tapped a button on his desk. “You may enter,” he said over the COM channel to the corridor outside his office.

Joery, his Chief of Staff, entered first. “Admiral Lvant to see you, Vice Admiral,” he reported. Stepping aside, he allowed Lvant to walk in past him.

“Stay,” Reverus said to Joery. He then stood to receive Lvant. The Rasmorse Admiral moved to the opposite end of Reverus’ desk, and then bowed deeply. Reverus did not return the gesture. It was a calculated insult, for though a Vice Admiral in the Eaglaton Navy outranked even a full Admiral in the Protectorate Navy, he still should have returned the gesture. Keeping Joery in the meeting was intended in the same way, for Reverus wanted Lvant to be shamed in front of his Chief of Staff.

Sitting, Reverus looked Lvant up and down for several seconds as if deciding whether he should let his guest sit. Then he gestured to the chair beside Lvant. “Admiral Lvant, I was not expecting to meet you at Genese. You are a long way from your fleet base at Farvul’vian. Nor was I expecting to encounter Human ships here, or in the systems behind me. You led me to believe you had the situation under control, even after the fiascos at Bastion and the wormhole.”

“I know I have apologized in writing, but I do so now in person,” Lvant said sounding genuinely contrite. “I have dishonored my species and the Protectorate by my failures at Bastion and the Battle of the Wormhole. As I outlined in my latest dispatches, it was my intention to fall back to my people’s space and defend our borders until your fleet could arrive. However, the Humans advanced far quicker than anyone expected. A fleet attempted to raid Farvul’vian, but it was just a feint. Then I received word that Genese had fallen. I feared the Humans were trying to launch a strike against my people’s homeworld, and so I rushed here as soon as I could.”

“And yet, there are no Human ships here now, are there?” Reverus asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.

“No, Vice Admiral, there are not. Your fleet has no doubt driven them off,” Lvant replied.

Reverus shook his head. “You still do not see, do you, Admiral? I fear I have made a grave mistake allowing you to be promoted to the rank you now hold. You may have put this entire war in jeopardy.” Rather than defend himself, Lvant hung his head. That told Reverus all he needed to know. Lvant was a broken commander. It was no wonder Admiral Becket had been able to run rings around him. He has lost whatever confidence he once had in himself.

“My fleet did not drive them off,” Reverus explained, letting a little compassion into his voice. Their opening exchanges had already led him to decide to remove Lvant from active command immediately after the meeting; there was now no point completely destroying the commander. Still, Reverus wanted him to fully understand his mistakes. “The Humans retreated before I arrived. Why do you think that is Admiral?”

“Because they feared facing your warships head on?” Lvant suggested. “When they planned their diversionary attack against me, and chose to strike here instead, they could not have known your ships were closing in.”

“I’m sure they did not know about my fleet, but that is not why they retreated. At least, not the main reason,” Reverus said, frustration creeping into his voice. “Think, commander! How far is Genese from the Human fleet bases? Do you really think they could have taken and held this system? Even against your fleet?”

Lvant looked from Reverus to Joery. “You think this was a ruse as well? They never intended to hold Genese? But why feint at Farvul’vian and then here also?” Reverus didn’t answer; instead, he pierced Lvant with his eyes until the Admiral understood. “Our northern colonies!” he said as he jumped to his feet. “They drew me here to take our northern colonies!” Reverus waved Lvant back to his seat. “But we need to act immediately,” Lvant protested. “The Human ships that left here could already be well on their way to Farvul’vian.”

“Sit down, Admiral,” Reverus said. “I have already given orders for the fleet to prepare to leave. Once our fuel tankers have topped up our capital ships, we will be on our way. Though I fear you are right, we will be too late to save Farvul’vian. But we will retake it, of that I assure you.”

Lvant sat and appeared to calm down. But then, his head shot up again. “My fleets that were raiding the Conclave worlds, they could be cut off!”

“If they even make it back to your species’ worlds,” Reverus said. “Don’t forget, the Humans know about them, too.”

Lvant looked like he wanted to jump to his feet again. “You have sent a warning to them?” Reverus nodded. Lvant’s shoulders slumped. “Then I have been beaten again. Three times, this Admiral Becket has bested me. I have failed everyone.”

“I will not argue that point with you, Admiral, though you must realize by now, these Human commanders are skilled. Most of them have fought in many more battles than even our senior commanders. Yet that is no excuse for your failures. It will come as little surprise to hear that I’m relieving you from active command. I’m sure the Protectorate Navy can find some role for you, but it will not be on the bridge of a warship.”

Lvant nodded. “I understand, I expected nothing less, and I am happy to cede control of my fleets to you. Just make sure you drive the Humans from my species’ worlds.”

“I will do more than that,” Reverus promised. “I will finish what you started, Admiral, I will drive them from this sector. Then the full might of our Protectorate can be turned towards the Karacknids.”

Lvant nodded again. “Thank you, Vice Admiral, and for allowing me to remain in the Navy and keep what little honor I have left intact.”

“You are welcome,” Reverus said, though his words felt wrong. The truth was, he wanted Lvant drummed out of the Navy. One defeat was understandable, no commander could win every battle. Even his failure at the Battle of the Wormhole had been more down to the Humans’ luck than Lvant’s overt failures. Yet the way he had handled his retreat, and how he had so easily given up the two worlds of Dudllias and Ulan’nagn to the Humans, was unforgivable. Both worlds should have been heavily fortified to prevent the Humans from doing exactly what they were doing right now to the Rasmorse border worlds.

Yet Reverus didn’t want to completely humiliate Lvant for fear it would send the wrong message to his other commanders. For like it or not, now that their surprise attack had failed, the war with the Humans was not going to be quick. That meant there would be more defeats in the future, and Reverus didn’t want his commanders looking over their shoulders thinking about being removed from the Navy in disgrace. He needed them fully focused on the task of winning the war with the Humans.

“There is one question I wished to ask you before you take your leave of the fleet,” Reverus said, deciding there was nothing more to be gained from discussing Lvant’s failures. “The Humans’ allies, what have you made of them? Are they fighting willingly against us?” Lvant nervously looked around towards Joery and then back to Reverus. “You have permission to speak freely,” Reverus said.

Lvant nodded. “The truth is I am no longer sure. At least when it comes to the Conclave species they have serving in their fleets. I spoke with one of their commanders. An Admiral Shraw, he is the senior Admiral of the Gramrian species. He was adamant that he fought freely with the Humans. I believe it is the case for many of the other lower rank officers as well. Yet given our intelligence on them, it seems more likely that they must be collaborators. If the Humans offer rewards for aliens that work with them against their own species, then it would make sense they would be appointed to their fleets.”

“And yet the diversionary fleet you sent against the Conclave worlds themselves only encountered hostility. Even when Imperial warships were not present, the Conclave navies and worlds resisted,” Reverus said as he mused out loud. “How then do we weigh the likelihood of them surrendering or even switching sides?”

Again, Lvant looked around nervously. “You’re not starting to believe the Humans’ lies are you, Vice Admiral?”

Reverus stared at Lvant until the Admiral looked down. “Do you think me so easily fooled?” he eventually asked. “It is not because I believe the propaganda that I ask. But I am the senior commander now, and some of our war plans were based on intelligence reports that the Conclave species would join our ranks. If that is not a likely scenario, it must be taken into account.”

“Of course, Vice Admiral, I understand,” Lvant said. “In that case, to answer your question, all I can say is that my forces have seen no signs that any of the Conclave species would rally to our cause. Though of course, if we were actually liberating their worlds rather than just launching feint attacks, as our intelligence reports claim, that may very well change.”

“Indeed it may,” Reverus said as his mind began to drift back to his conversation with the Human princess. “Indeed it may.” For a few seconds, Reverus zoned out of the conversation as he followed a train of thought. Only his Chief of Staff ruffling his feathers brought his mind back. “You are dismissed, Admiral,” he said to Lvant as he brought his gaze back to his subordinate. “Your first duty will be to write up a detailed memoir of the events of this war from the moment the Human warships discovered Farvul’vian.”

“Yes, Vice Admiral, of course,” Lvant said as he gave Reverus a small bow.

Reverus leaned forward towards Lvant. “And let me make this clear, if you hope to retain any honor, any respect within the Navy, you will be truthful in all that you say. I don’t want anything sugar-coated. I want everything that happened, just as it happened. Understood?”

“You have my word, Vice Admiral,” Lvant replied.

Reverus nodded and then waved a feathered wing at Lvant. “Then you are dismissed, Admiral.”

Lvant stood, bowed deeply and then allowed Joery to lead him away. Reverus stared at his back for several seconds, hoping the Rasmorse would be completely truthful, for if he was going up against this Admiral Becket, Reverus wanted to know as much about her and her tactics as possible. You are finally going to get to put your skills to the test, he thought to himself. You and the fleet. This will be the final trial we need to prepare ourselves for the Karacknids. For once Becket and her Imperial ships were cleared from the sector, Reverus would be free to turn his full force against the enemy he had been training to face all his life.

Chapter 27

There have been several critical moments in the Empire’s history where everything could have collapsed. Facing the Karacknids, the Flex-aor, the Protectorates and the Antarians all at once is perhaps the greatest of these. It gave a new meaning to the old phrase ‘total war.’

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, 16th May 2510 AD.

“Captain, you better come to the bridge, I think we’ve found them,” Lydia informed Jonathan as he ran on one of the gym’s running machines.

“I’ll be right there,” Jonathan replied, bringing the machine to an end. Rushing to the bridge, he wiped sweat from his forehead and neck. As soon as he saw the main holo display, he knew Lydia was right. Lying stationary in stealth on the edge of the system, Kestrel could only use passive sensors. Even so, it was impossible to miss what had just entered the system. Fifty Protectorate ships were moving at high speed from the shift passage Kestrel had been sent to watch. They were releasing copious amounts of energy into space as they searched for threats.

“It looks like they are a scouting squadron,” Lydia suggested as Jonathan nodded to her and made his way to his command chair.

“Agreed,” Jonathan replied. “Send the crew to battle stations. Bring up our reactors to ten percent and start moving us to the shift passage. There’s no need to stick around. This is what we came here to confirm.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Lydia said with a determined nod.

As Kestrel slowly began to move, still staying in stealth, it took an hour and a half to reach the shift passage that would take them back to Davenport’s fleet. In that time Lydia and Jonathan’s suspicions were confirmed, for another four hundred Protectorate ships had jumped into the system.

“There’s no doubt now,” Cortez said, having come onto the bridge minutes earlier. “We’ve found them. And it looks like they are indeed making for Secassman.”

“That would be my guess, too,” Jonathan replied. “Which means Davenport could intercept them here,” he added as he selected a system on a secondary holo display that was showing a map of the local systems.

Since being released from Mississippi’s flotilla after the retreat from Farvul’vian, Davenport had once again allowed Jonathan to scout ahead of her main fleet. Kestrel had so far traversed through three systems along the Rasmorse border, looking for the Protectorate fleets that were known to be returning from raiding Conclave space. Thanks to the intelligence other scouts had gathered, they knew the two Protectorate fleets were likely heading to either the system of Secassman or Cannle, for next to Farvul’vian, they were the two nearest fleet bases. Kestrel had been assigned to watch the approaches to Secassman, along with a squadron of other ships that were watching a handful of other systems.

“We’ll need to make good time if we’re going to get our report to her and allow her to make it to that system in time,” Cortez commented as she studied the holo map as well.

“Then it’s a good thing we have one of the best ships and crews in the fleet then, isn’t it?” Jonathan replied. “As soon as we jump into shift space, we’re going to push Kestrel as hard as we’ve pushed her so far. For this fleet is not going escape us!”

“Understood, Captain!” Cortez replied firmly.

*

IS Zeus, 23rd May 2510 AD, (seven days later).

“Admiral, Kestrel has just jumped into the system. She has sent the prearranged message for enemy sighted,” Davenport’s COM officer reported from her station.

Davenport instantly sat up in her command chair. “Alert the fleet we’re about to move. Set course for Kestrel’s position, get us moving soon as everyone confirms they are ready to go.”

“We’re ready to go,” Zeus’ navigation officer announced two minutes later.

“Then let’s be on our way,” Davenport ordered.

Twenty minutes later, Captain Somerville’s report arrived. Davenport scanned through it quickly. “Alter our heading towards the Pennington shift passage, we’re going to try and catch them in the Gatling system,” she ordered. Somerville had suggested trying to hit them there, and Davenport agreed.

Her next decision took a little longer. The fleet Somerville had detected was likely the eastern most of the two Protectorate fleets that had been raiding Conclave space. At least, given that it was headed towards Secassman, that seemed the logical conclusion. If so, it meant the second Protectorate fleet was somewhere between her position and Gatling. Davenport wanted to intercept it as well, but so far, none of her scouts had discovered it.

“Inform Commodore Jenkins that his fleet is coming with us,” Davenport said, choosing to bring her supply fleet and its escorts with her. “We’ll try and intercept this fleet, and then if the other fleet hasn’t been detected, we’ll move on Secassman.” Though she wanted to find and destroy the second Protectorate fleet, she also had Becket’s timetable to think of. She needed to be in position once the Admiral returned with her fleet.

“Understood, Rear Admiral,” Commander Chavers, Davenport’s Chief of Staff responded.

“And then dispatch Commodores Sunack and Darlington’s fleets to cover our northern flank as we proceed. It may be they will encounter scouts from the second Protectorate fleet, and we will be able to turn and engage. But if not, at least they will prevent any surprises coming our way.”

“I’ll write up the orders now, Rear Admiral,” Chavers said.

Trusting her subordinate to work out the details, Davenport turned back to Somerville’s report and began to go through all the sensor data he had collected on the Protectorate fleet. According to the reports she had been constantly getting from Conclave space, if it was the eastern most of the two Protectorate fleets, it had been involved in several small battles, and so its strength should have been weakened. Though we’re not going to underestimate you, Davenport thought as she began to mark out the main enemy ships she wanted to take out as quickly as possible if she could bring them to battle. But we will make you pay, she added to herself, for the Protectorate fleet had destroyed most of the orbital industries of one Folian colony, killing over a thousand civilians. That was not something she was going to let them get away with.

*

IS Zeus, Gatling system, 30th May 2510 AD, (seven days later).

Davenport smiled as, right on cue, the first Protectorate scouting squadrons began to appear in the Gatling system. Her officers watched for over an hour as the full Protectorate force appeared. In the vanguard, eighty light warships surged ahead of the main body of capital ships carefully searching for threats. Next came the Protectorate Admiral’s dreadnoughts and battleships held closely together. Behind them came the fleet’s supply train. It was these rearmost ships that were the enemy fleet’s weakness. For although the two hundred freighters had allowed the Protectorates to operate so far from their fleet base for several months, it had now become a liability.

Having anticipated exactly what she was looking at, Davenport had her fleet arrayed accordingly. All seven hundred of her warships were in a crescent formation at the edge of the shift passage the Protectorates were heading towards. In stealth, with their reactors and engines powered down, they simply waited.

Two hours passed as the Protectorate scouts crossed through the system and their main formations followed more warily behind. “Any time now,” Davenport’s Chief of Staff predicted.

Just seven minutes later, one of the Protectorate frigates nearest to Davenport’s fleet’s position suddenly changed course. It swerved away from the heading that had been taking it close to Zeus. At the same time, all of its active sensors turned towards the battleship. “Well, they’ve spotted us now,” Chavers commented. He turned to Davenport. “Admiral?”

Davenport nodded. “Take us in.”

At a command from Chavers, all of Davenport’s fleet powered up their reactors and engines and began to accelerate hard straight towards the Protectorate fleet. Having pushed their scouts so far ahead of their main body of ships, the Protectorate commander had given himself plenty of time to react. If he wanted, there was a chance he could turn and run with his warships for another shift passage, or even backtrack his steps and flee to the system he had just come from. There was just one problem; his freighters were too slow to match either maneuver. If he fled, he’d be leaving them defenseless.

Almost as bad, whatever direction he fled in would take him further from Secassman. That was what Davenport was really counting on. Suspecting that the Protectorate fleet, especially their tankers, had to be running low on fuel after all their escapades, she doubted they could afford to flee. For if she destroyed their fuel tankers and made them run from Secassman, they could end up stranded before ever making it back to Rasmorse space.

Whether that was what went through the Protectorate Admiral’s mind as he decided how to respond to Davenport’s fleet, or some other reason forced his hand, Davenport never knew. All she and her officers had to go on was the Protectorate’s fleet’s actions. Initially, the Protectorate ships simply kept to their original course. Then, over the space of ten minutes, all of their scouting squadrons began to decelerate and turn back towards their capital ships. The warships that had been playing escort to their supply fleet also abandoned their charges, and moved to form up with the main Protectorate force.

“They’re going to fight,” Davenport concluded. “They don’t have the numbers to win, but they’re going to try anyway. No doubt they want to hurt us as badly as they can.” If the Protectorate fleet had been getting updates from Farvul’vian as it fled back towards its space, it had to know Human fleets had been raiding their worlds. Davenport knew that if put in a similar situation, she would gladly take on a more powerful enemy if it meant getting a chance to cripple a fleet threatening her worlds.

For several minutes, she toyed with the idea of launching her full fighter force at the Protectorates. With the supply fleet’s escort racing to catch up with the enemy capital ships, she guessed it wouldn’t take much to be able to slip her fighters past the enemy warships and take out their tankers. Then, if she wanted, Davenport could turn and hit Secassman before the Protectorates could catch up with her. With both of their nearest sources of fuel taken out, there was a chance some of the Protectorate ships would run out of fuel and have to be abandoned. Yet, Davenport didn’t want an enemy fleet left behind operating in her rear, not when she and Becket had bigger fish to fry.

Accepting that she had to destroy the Protectorate ships despite the losses she would suffer, Davenport instead began to order her ships to best face the approaching threat. She also ordered a spread of stealth recon drones launched towards the Protectorate fleet. Using their data, her officers were able to identify a number of damaged Protectorate ships. They were all marked out to be targeted in the first salvos.

Then, just before battle was joined, Davenport pushed her Lancer frigates and all of her fighters ahead of her fleet to intercept enemy missiles. The Protectorates had just launched one hundred fighters and didn’t seem interested in throwing them against her fleet, and so Davenport was happy to conserve her fighters for the battles to come.

*

IS Kestrel

For the first time in his naval career, Jonathan found himself pushed ahead of the main Imperial warships in a major fleet engagement. Kestrel’s PD drones meant her abilities were not best utilized when in a tight formation with hundreds of other warships. Instead, she had been assigned to the Lancer frigate squadrons that raced ahead of Zeus and the rest of the fleet. Given that each of Kestrel’s PD drones was essentially a miniature Lancer frigate it made sense, yet it still felt strange to Jonathan.

The feeling only increased as the Protectorates opened fire, and sixty thousand missiles started racing towards Kestrel. Jonathan couldn’t help the sense of doom that welled up within him. Less than thirty Lancer frigates were in formation with Kestrel. Though calling their dispositions a formation was a stretch. Rather, they were all spread out as far from each other as they could be, and yet still engage the Protectorate missiles as they passed. Though in his head Jonathan knew the vast majority, if not all of the approaching missiles, were meant for Imperial capital ships far behind Kestrel, his heart couldn’t help feeling like the massive wave of destruction was bearing down on his isolated ship.

Pushing his fear away, Jonathan forced himself to stare down the huge salvo as it approached. In the distance, Kestrel’s optical sensors started to detect small explosions. Davenport’s Hellcats had begun to engage the missiles as they passed. Before Jonathan knew it, Kestrel joined the fight. First, a salvo of long-range AM missiles reached out to engage the tens of thousands of incoming Protectorate missiles. Three scored hits, and the rest forced a handful of enemy missiles to go into evasive maneuvers.

Next, Lieutenant Artex fired Kestrel’s flak cannons and arc emitters. There were so many missiles headed Kestrel’s way that were so densely packed together that the area effect weapons wrought a level of destruction Jonathan hadn’t seen before. At least sixty missiles were blown apart or had their seeker heads fried. Before he could get an exact number, every one of Kestrel’s other weapons opened fire. They were joined by Lieutenant Harte’s PD drones, which he had arrayed around Kestrel in a shell formation.

As more and more enemy missiles were destroyed, Jonathan found himself gripping his command chair tighter and tighter. For despite how many Protectorate missiles were shot down, hundreds more were charging in behind them. Quickly, the main holo display became filled with missiles. Visually, there was no way to tell if they were targeting Kestrel or not. Nervously, Jonathan glanced at Lydia. She was hunched over her console, her eyes unblinking. It was her job to watch for any homing in on their cruiser. She didn’t flinch or call out for evasive maneuvers or for Artex to switch targets to missiles threatening them. Her calmness reassured Jonathan and his hands relaxed, albeit only slightly.

In a few short seconds, the wave of enemy missiles caught up to Kestrel and then flashed by her. Jonathan couldn’t help but wince as they did so, still feeling like one had to be targeting them. Yet, none were. Instead, as they raced on towards Davenport’s fleet, Kestrel’s point defenses that were now facing them opened up. Many more missiles were destroyed. By the time the last long range AM missile was fired, the counter on one of the secondary holo displays had reached eighty-one.

Jonathan shook his head at the number. Never before had Kestrel destroyed so many enemy missiles in one go. And yet, between Kestrel, Harte’s PD drones and the thirty other Lancer frigates, they had destroyed less than eight hundred missiles. They had barely reduced the Protectorate salvos strength by one percent. Jonathan felt like he was starting to grasp the true scale of a large fleet battle for the first time. In the battles he had fought in before, his focus had been on the few missiles targeting his ship and those nearest him. Yet now, Kestrel had thrown everything she had at the Protectorate salvo and had barely made a dent.

The surreal experience didn’t stop there. For now, there was nothing Jonathan and his bridge officers could do but watch as the salvo raced in to attack Davenport’s ships. As the defensive fire from her eight hundred ships reached out towards the missiles, they began to die in their thousands. Plenty still made it to attack range, however. Detonating, they sent their grazers flashing into Davenport’s formation. Energy spikes on Kestrel’s sensors told Jonathan they had scored hits. Several ships winked out of existence and others fell out of formation, confirming serious damage had been suffered.

Seemingly unperturbed however, Zeus led the rest of the fleet in firing their first missile salvo. Ninety-six thousand mark VII missiles shot out towards the Protectorates. As the missiles approached Kestrel, Artex fired her own missiles to join them. Jonathan had no time to watch the progress of his missiles though, for the next Protectorate salvo quickly approached. This time, he was slightly more relaxed as the missiles closed in on Kestrel and surrounded her. Given how little damage his ship and the Lancer frigates were really doing, it made no sense to waste missiles trying to destroy them. Not when one of those missiles could take out an Imperial battleship or dreadnought instead. Even so, his body tensed once again.

He needn’t have feared, for once again Kestrel was able to reach out and smash as many missiles as she could in complete safety. When the missiles had passed, Jonathan surveyed the Protectorate fleet. It had suffered at least twenty ships lost or crippled. Then, he once again watched Davenport’s ships defend themselves and suffer more losses. Jonathan couldn’t help feeling conflicted. He was elated his ship was destroying so many enemy missiles without facing any risks. Yet, it just felt wrong to be in such relative safety when his friends and comrades faced death with every enemy salvo.

As the battle raged on, Jonathan’s feelings didn’t resolve. With Artex, Lydia, and Harte overseeing Kestrel’s sensors and weapons, all he and Cortez had to do was maneuver Kestrel to match the course changes Davenport ordered. Besides that, they were little more than spectators to the battle, something that only made it harder for Jonathan. Nevertheless, the battle did continue.

Seemingly undisturbed by the losses, the Protectorate warships continued to charge. Davenport carried out several maneuvers to keep them at arm’s length, but unless she wanted to allow them to reach the system’s mass shadow and jump towards Secassman, she had to allow them into range with their close-range missiles. When they did, the battle ended quickly. The ten warheads released by each close-range Protectorate missile overwhelmed Davenport’s ships. Kestrel detected more than a hundred energy spikes from missiles connecting with shields or armor.

It was worse for the Protectorates however, for Imperial mark VIII missiles were almost as devastating, and Davenport’s ships put out far more of them. The bomb-pumped laser beams pierced through armor and bulkheads like they weren’t there. More than sixty Protectorate warships were vaporized.

The death of so many of their ships proved a tipping point. For though the battle lasted for three more salvos, the Protectorate’s strength had been broken. Even so, they fought on, seeking to do as much damage to Davenport’s fleet as possible. Forty-eight more Imperial ships were destroyed or crippled. Eventually, with just thirty-three ships left capable of fighting on, the Protectorates cut their engines in surrender. They only did so after Davenport had fired another full salvo. Waiting until the missiles were just two minutes away from hitting them, did the Protectorates then cut their engines. To avoid killing them all, Davenport had to self-destruct the missiles.

“A waste of good missiles,” Cortez said. “Missiles we’re going to need before this is all over too, I bet. They are sneaky, even in defeat.”

“They are,” Jonathan agreed, though he wasn’t half as concerned. The tactic was sneaky, but it told him something else as well. It was only able to work because the Protectorate’s had assumed Davenport would self-destruct their missiles. That told Jonathan they now knew Imperial fleets would accept the surrender of Protectorate ships. More than that, that they also knew Imperial forces were likely to self-destruct missiles to accept a surrender. Maybe there is hope yet, Jonathan thought to himself. At the start of the war, he was sure no Protectorate commander would have contemplated such a move, not with all the lies they had been told about Humanity. But things are changing, he told himself as a small smile played across his face, making Cortez and Lydia frown.

Though he caught their frowns, Jonathan didn’t have time to explain, for orders began to come in from Zeus. “Davenport is not wasting any time,” Jonathan said as he read through them. “The fleet is splitting; Commodore Harkin is keeping his squadron here to secure our damaged ships and take control of the surrendered Protectorate ones. The rest of us are moving out.” He looked up at Cortez and Lydia and smiled again. “We’re going to Secassman. And Kestrel is assigned to the lead scouting squadron.”

And now, we’re finally going to hit some Protectorate systems for real, Jonathan thought with excitement. After their feint attack on Farvul’vian, and with not knowing what exactly Admiral Becket and her ships were up to, Jonathan was more than ready to actually take the war to the Protectorate’s worlds, for there was only one way he knew how to beat back a bully, they had to be punched squarely in the face!

Chapter 28

Despite the rapid expansion of the Empire’s borders over the last five centuries, its politics have not changed at the same rate. The three most powerful political parties remain those that dominated the political arena of the first century of the Empire. Over the last five hundred years other parties have come and gone, but the same key issues that our founding politicians faced still confront us today.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Zeus, 5th June May 2510 AD.

When Zeus jumped into the Secassman system, what they found was almost a disappointment. Having built it up in her head, Davenport had been prepared for another large fleet action. One where her ships would have to batter through a large garrison force before destroying the fleet base in the system. Instead, the fleet base that had been home to the Protectorate fleet that had been raiding Conclave space turned out to be guarded by a pitiful enemy force.

There were less than one hundred Protectorate warships in orbit around Secassman. Yes, the fleet base did have an impressive number of orbital battlestations, but unless they were far more powerful than similarly sized Imperial ones, they weren’t enough to offset the strength of Davenport’s fleet.

Davenport wasn’t complaining, however, for the lack of enemy ships meant her fleet would be able to take out the fleet base with relative ease. Before advancing, she sent a spread of recon drones into the system, then organized several squadrons to move out and investigate her line of attack. After Admiral Lvant had hidden three hundred warships at Farvul’vian when she had launched her feint attack there, she wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any similar surprises. As soon as she was sure there wasn’t, she nodded to her Chief of Staff. Moments later, her five hundred and fifty ships surged forward.

The Protectorates responded as she expected, not that they had many options. Four fast frigates broke orbit within minutes of her first squadrons announcing themselves. They raced across the systems to other shift passages, presumably with news of her fleet’s arrival. The rest of the garrison remained put, while every civilian ship in the system either rushed towards Secassman or tried to flee to the shift passages.

One piece of activity did catch Davenport’s attention. Alongside the Protectorate warships was a small group of sixty civilian ships. They were in a military formation that suggested they had been co-opted to help with the fleet base’s defense. A brief analysis by one of her officers told her they were not going to prove much of a threat, however. That was fine with Davenport, for the sooner she could destroy the fleet base, the sooner she could continue her campaign of attacks along the Rasmorses’ northern border worlds.

As her ships approached Secassman, Davenport opened a channel to the colony. “People of Secassman, I am here to destroy the fleet base in this system. This base was used to stage attacks against my Empire’s allies, and I intend to exact revenge. However, our quarrel is not with your civilians. Abandon your orbitals and no innocent lives need be lost. Better yet, surrender your warships and orbital battlestations, and I promise to let their crews land on the colony’s surface. You do not have the forces to defend against my fleet, trying to do so will only prove suicidal.”

Though her offer was genuine, Davenport didn’t expect anyone to take her up on it. She wasn’t disappointed. No communications came from the colony’s surface or orbitals. “They have made their choice,” she said to her command staff. “Begin our first attack.”

Continuing to be cautious, Davenport moved her fleet into extreme missile range. They approached on a course that allowed them to fire two missile salvos and then pull back. With their extra range, it did allow the Protectorates to fire three salvos of their own long-range missiles, but the brief attack confirmed the Protectorates had no hidden defenses. Their three salvos only managed to destroy one ship and badly damage two more, whereas Davenport’s missiles were already able to take two battlestations.

Ordering her ships in again, this time, they began a prolonged bombardment with their long-range missiles. Over the course of two hours, Davenport reduced Secassman’s defenses to slag. First, she focused her fire on the large immovable battlestations, then when they were all destroyed, she whittled away the garrison’s warships. The second-to-last targets were the armored civilian ships that commendably, continued to put up a fight. Finally, she turned her missiles onto the orbital stations of the fleet base. Anything that remotely looked like it could be used to build, repair, or supply a Protectorate warship was destroyed.

Satisfied, Davenport pulled her main capital ships back to the edge of the system where her supply fleet was waiting. As they began to restock their missile magazines, she dispatched three small squadrons to destroy the rest of the system’s industrial facilities. She also ordered her two scouting squadrons to push ahead towards the Cannle system and the second fleet base from which the Protectorates had used to attack Conclave space. Given none of the scouting flotillas she had strung out along the northern borders of Rasmorse space had detected the second Protectorate squadron returning from Conclave space, she suspected she would find it already at Cannle.

If that is the case, then we’ll just have to deal with them, she thought to herself as her ships began to signal they were ready to move on. Ideally, Admiral Becket’s plan called for her to take out both Protectorate fleets so as to secure their eastern flank. If she couldn’t achieve that, Davenport knew she would at least have to dispatch a strong enough force to cover the Protectorate ships at Cannle in case they tried to interfere with her and Becket’s ultimate target. Though that would significantly reduce Davenport’s strength, she would have to do what needed to be done.

*

Zeus, 13th June May 2510 AD, (eight days later).

Minutes after Zeus jumped into the Cannle system, Davenport’s officers confirmed what her scouts had already discovered; the system was indeed more heavily defended than Secassman had been. Two hundred and fifty Protectorate warships were in orbit around the fleet base supporting its battlestations. The number wasn’t high enough to prevent Davenport from thinking she could take out the Protectorate forces in front of her, yet she would certainly take more losses than at Secassman.

“Launch a spread of recon drones,” Davenport ordered, “and release our scouting squadrons to move in as well.” She wanted to get a good understanding of the system before making any decisions. “Pay particular attention to those Protectorate warships, I want our patrols to get as close as possible to analyze their emission signatures. Compare them with the reports our Conclave allies have been sending us. I want to know if any of those ships are from the second Protectorate fleet that was attacking Conclave systems.”

“Aye, Rear Admiral,” Chavers replied. “You think the second fleet has beaten us here?”

“I guess I’m hoping so,” Davenport said. “For if some of their ships are here, then it means they’re not out there somewhere else. I’d rather know where they are than have them surprise us once we move in to make our attack.”

“We’ll get as close as we can then,” Chavers responded.

For two hours, Davenport remained on Zeus’ bridge and watched as the system was thoroughly checked by destroyers, frigates, recon drones, and fighters. To her surprise, none of the Protectorate ships were identified as ones that had fought along the Conclave borders. Yet, neither were any hidden ships detected in the system. It seemed the entire force she was facing was the system’s usual garrison. That made her more nervous, for it meant if she attacked and took losses, there would still be another Protectorate fleet out there. One that could come between her and her rendezvous with Admiral Becket.

Knowing she had to make a decision, Davenport began to weigh the likely losses her fleet would take if she attacked. She couldn’t be sure the Protectorates didn’t have any tricks up their sleeves. In fact, she had to assume they had some surprises in store for her. It’s too much, Davenport said to herself. She had just five hundred ships with her now. With their battlestations and orbital hangers, the Protectorates probably had the equivalent strength of three hundred and fifty of their warships. If they had any surprises in addition, she could lose one hundred, or even one hundred and fifty ships. I can detach that many ships and leave them here to watch the fleet base. That way, the garrison can’t try to follow us or risk leaving the base uncovered.

Her decision made, Davenport turned to Chavers. Chavers was turning to her as well, a look of concern on his face. He had a hand raised towards the holo display and spoke first. “Admiral, several new contacts have just jumped into the system. From the Gascoigne shift passage.”

Davenport’s eyes widened and her heart rate quickened. The Gascoigne shift passage led away from Rasmorse space and eventually towards the Conclave borders. If the contacts were the second Protectorate fleet returning, they were in trouble! Davenport opened her mouth to give the order to call all her scouting forces back. Just as she started to speak however, the contacts turned green on the holo display. Zeus’s computer had recognized them!

“They are Conclave warships!” Chavers said, his concern replaced with excitement. “They must be from Rear Admiral Zoeledon’s fleet!”

“An advanced scouting squadron, I’m sure,” Davenport said, tempering Chavers’ excitement a little. “But it is good to see some friendly faces, nonetheless.”

Since the Battle of the Gift, constant reports had been reaching Davenport from Conclave space via Bastion. By the time they reached her, they were more than a month out of date. Yet they had tracked Rear Admiral Zoeledon’s progress as the Gramrian Admiral who had been placed in command of the Conclave’s defense of their borders. She had been pursuing the two retreating Protectorate fleets as they were driven away. “Hail them and request an immediate update. Inform them we have destroyed the easternmost of the two Protectorate fleets, and we wish to know the location of the westernmost one.”

Half an hour later, and it turned out Chavers’ excitement had been correct in the first place. For though the ships were from one of Zoeledon’s scout forces, the Gramrian Admiral wasn’t far behind. In fact, his ships were just a micro jump away. Having lost track of the western Protectorate fleet, they had come to Cannle in search of it. An hour later, Zoeledon’s full fleet of four hundred and fifty warships jumped into the system. Davenport smiled at the sight of them, for they completely altered the balance of forces in the system. “Send Zoeledon rendezvous coordinates and begin moving us towards them,” she ordered. “Let us go and greet our new friends.”

As soon as they were in two-way communication range, Davenport had her COM officer hail Zoeledon’s flagship. “Admiral, well met,” she said as she gave the Gramrian a small bow. “I didn’t expect you to have made such progress.”

Zoeledon returned the bow as her tongue slipped in and out between her razor-sharp teeth. “When one has their prey on the run, it is good to stick to their heels,” Zoeledon said, sounding exactly like her compatriot Admiral Shraw. “I must congratulate you on destroying the Protectorate fleet that attacked my neighbors’ worlds. I am just sorry that the other fleet we were pursuing evaded us.”

“Your scouts have lost contact with them completely?” Davenport asked.

Zoeledon nodded. “When last we saw them, we believed they were heading this way, hence why we are here now. However, if they got here before us, they have since left.”

“Well, we can worry about that later. If you’re willing, we could use your aid in destroying this fleet base,” Davenport said.

“It would be a pleasure, Rear Admiral. I am happy to attach my fleet to yours under your command,” Zoeledon said as she showed her teeth. “After the damage the Protectorates have done to my neighbors’ worlds, we will be happy to return the favor.”

“Then I will have my staff officers send over our plans for your people to review,” Davenport responded. “We can advance as soon as you are ready.” With the gesture, Davenport instructed her COM officer to send over the plans she and Chavers had put together as they had moved to rendezvous with Zoeledon.

Zoeledon glanced at one of her officers, and then back at Davenport. “We have them. But you do not have any additional forces of your own nearby? Where is Admiral Becket?”

“She has taken her ships elsewhere to launch a diversionary attack,” Davenport answered. “But once we are done here, as long as supplies allow, we will move to join her to launch our primary attack.”

Zoeledon showed her teeth again. “I am pleased to hear it. Let us destroy this fleet base then, and be on our way.”

“As you wish, Admiral,” Davenport said with a smile and a small bow. “Let us advance.”

Minutes later, Davenport’s and Zoeledon’s fleets combined into one formation. Then they turned and pointed their noses towards Cannle. Again, Davenport gave the Protectorate defenders a chance to surrender, but once again, they ignored it. As her fleet approached missile range, Davenport deployed her Lancer frigates and fighters forward to thin out the enemy missiles. Then, at extreme range, she pummeled the Protectorate defenses. First, she focused on the Protectorate warships, destroying or crippling every single one, then switched her fire to all the fleet base’s orbital stations. In two salvos, they were all wiped out by antimatter detonations.

“Pull us back,” Davenport ordered when her second salvo was fired at the fleet base’s stations. She already knew the missiles would do enough damage to put the fleet base out of operation. Though the planet’s battlestations were still intact, they now defended nothing that would be useful to the Protectorates as they continued their war.

As her fleet retreated, Davenport oversaw the evacuation of seven ships that had been too badly damaged to salvage. Apart from that, however, the fight had been entirely one-sided, for the Protectorates simply hadn’t had the firepower to penetrate the combined defenses of her one thousand ship strong fleet. Once she had her fleet moved to safety, Davenport split off a force of eighty ships to watch the system. Then she and Zoeledon set course for the nearest shift passage and the rendezvous they had planned with Admiral Becket.

Chapter 29

To try to coordinate the movement of large fleets across many different systems and hundreds of light years is a risky business. Even with FTL communication and the Sun Gates, more military campaigns have been lost than won by such attempts. Students should learn this lesson early in their schooling, for only the very best should ever entertain such stratagems.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, 19th June May 2510 AD, (six days later).

As Trident jumped into the Farvul’vian system, Admiral Becket couldn’t help letting out a sigh that removed a great deal of stress from her shoulders and neck. Never before had she felt such relief entering a strongly protected enemy system. Yet, it wasn’t the array of enemy warships that elicited her response, it was simply the fact that her fleet had made it. The race from Genese had pushed Trident and the rest of her capital ships to their breaking point and beyond. Over twenty dreadnaughts and battleships had been left behind as their systems had failed, and they had been unable to keep up with the unrelenting pace Becket had insisted upon.

But they were here now, and they had made good time. By Becket’s estimation, it would take at least another week for whatever Eaglaton forces had been converging on Genese to drive her from the system to turn around and come to Farvul’vian. And that assumed the Eaglatons would correctly guess Farvul’vian had been her true target all along.

Almost as much relief had come in the previous system where they had been reunited with Admiral Shraw’s fleet that she had dispatched to raid several other enemy worlds. Shraw himself had also been joined by another four hundred additional Allied warships who had come to reinforce them. Though the ships were from almost every one of Humanity’s allies, including the Nanee and Mindus, they all slotted into Becket’s fleet with ease. Now they were ready to take the system and fleet base that had been Admiral Lvant’s staging base for his invasion of Bastion and attack on the Gift.

“What do we make of their defenses?” Becket asked her officers once all her ships had jumped into the system and formed up.

“They have almost as many ships as when Rear Admiral Davenport launched her feint attack,” Lieutenant Farnsworth reported from his tactical console. “But quite a few of them have different power signatures. There is no sign of Admiral Lvant’s flagship either.”

“I’ve just queried the Conclave squadron that joined us,” Albright added. “They believe some of the ships in orbit around Farvul’vian are from one of the two Protectorate fleets that were raiding their southwest borders.”

Becket nodded as she pushed her lips together. “That means they managed to slip past Rear Admiral Davenport. I hope her fleet is alright.” After launching her feint on Farvul’vian, Becket had ordered Davenport to swing north and east with her fleet to look for the Protectorate fleets they had guessed had to be retreating from Conclave space, and then strike at their fleet bases. After her feint attack, Davenport had left a frigate behind to update Becket when she arrived in the vicinity of Farvul’vian, but other than that, Becket had no up-to-date info on Davenport. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the Rear Admiral’s forces were delayed, but it would put Becket in a tougher situation.

That is the risk of splitting your forces though, Becket reminded herself. From the get-go she, Shraw, Davenport, and Salamanca had known splitting their forces and carrying out so many feint attacks had been risky. Yet the prize had been deemed worth it. And it has worked, Becket thought, for in orbit around Farvul’vian were just six hundred Protectorate warships. Yes, there were many powerful battlestations as well, and her officers were estimating that between the Protectorate carriers and orbital hangers they could identify, there had to be at least five hundred enemy fighters.

Yet with Becket’s reinforcements, she still had the strength to take on the fleet base. That would not have been the case if Lvant had been able to spend the last months concentrating his forces. Almost as good, in the intervening time, her fleets and squadrons had been able to raid and cripple many less defended enemy systems. For in addition to the damage her fleet had done in and around Genese, and what Davenport had accomplished, Admiral Shraw’s two hundred warships had been raiding up and down the northern worlds of the Rasmorse’s western border systems.

“Alright,” Becket said to her staff officers, “We’re not going to learn anything more just sitting around here. Take us in at twenty percent thrust, deploy our recon drones and scout squadrons. Let’s make sure there aren’t any hidden fleets out there. See if we can get some stealth recon drones in close to the fleet base as well and get an exact fix on the enemy positions.” Davenport’s frigate Captain had already warned Becket about the warships Lvant had hidden under some of his orbital stations, and she wanted to make sure there weren’t any other surprises out there.

An hour later, Becket felt she was certain of the Protectorate’s strength. In total, they had six hundred and seven warships, an estimated five hundred fighters between their carriers and orbital hangers, and forty battlestations that had the firepower of about another two hundred of their warships. Though Becket’s fleet had the advantage, it was almost an even match. The main difference was that Becket was very confident that over the next week, she would continue to receive reinforcements while the Protectorates would not.

“Let’s begin the siege,” she ordered to make sure no more warships would be joining the fleet defending Farvul’vian. In response to her command, her fleet increased its acceleration rates and moved towards Farvul’vian. Splitting into three smaller fleets, they each settled into a very high orbit around the fleet base. Together, they covered the approaches to the colony, meaning that any Protectorate ships that wanted to join the garrison would have to fight their way past at least a third of Becket’s strength.

During her fleet’s maneuvers, Becket watched the Protectorates carefully. If the enemy commander knew help was a week or more away, and he was smart, he would have tried to break out of the siege. His six hundred warships would certainly cause Becket more of a headache if they were operating in the outer system rather than bottled up in low orbit of Farvul’vian. Yet, the Protectorates never moved. Either they’ve put too much confidence in their defenses, or they know something we don’t, Becket decided.

“Detach several raiding squadrons,” Becket ordered once her main fleets were in position. “I want every military industrial facility in the rest of the system destroyed. And send out our scouting squadrons. If an enemy squadron gets within two systems of us, I want to know about it immediately.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Albright replied before getting to work sending out her new orders.

For the next six hours, Becket remained on Trident’s bridge as she kept one eye on the Protectorate garrison forces, and another on her squadrons that moved to each orbital body in the system, destroying most of the facilities the Protectorates had built up. She half expected some kind of surprise from either angle. Yet none came. The garrison were content to simply sit and watch their system be torn apart, while each facility that was attacked was either abandoned before it was destroyed, or tried and failed to fight back with their meager weapons. Except for allowing the escape shuttles from the various stations to pass through her blockade, nothing else went in or out from Farvul’vian.

It was the same for the next day, and the next, and the one after that. Over those three days, fifty additional Allied warships joined Becket, but there was no sight nor sound of any Protectorate warships trying to bolster the garrison’s strength. That changed on the fourth day. Becket happened to be on Trident’s bridge when the blaring of alarms suddenly announced seventy new contacts on the holo display.

Becket’s eyes narrowed as she stared at them, waiting for Trident’s computers to identify the newcomers. They were Protectorate warships for sure, but she relaxed slightly when none were confirmed to be Eaglaton designs. So far, none of Shraw’s or Davenport’s reports had included sightings of Eaglaton warships, Becket was now assuming that when they were finally sighted in the vicinity of Farvul’vian, it would suggest a much larger force was on its way. She wanted to have Farvul’vian taken by then.

Though the Protectorate warships weren’t Eaglaton, they still showed a strong desire to reinforce Farvul’vian. Moving at a high acceleration rate, they charged towards the largest gap between Becket’s three fleets. “Launch eight squadrons of fighters,” Becket ordered, deciding not to take any chances. “Have them move in and take out those ships. Then begin slow launching the rest of our fighters. I want them in space and ready to cover our three fleets in case the garrison tries a fighter strike of their own.”

If she commanded the garrison’s force, this was just the kind of opportunity she might make use of. With some of her ships distracted, the garrison could launch all of its fighters against one of her three fleets and perhaps catch them isolated. If they wanted to try, Becket was happy to let them, for if all her fighters were already in space, they could quickly come to the aid of whatever fleet the Protectorates tried to attack.

To Becket’s disappointment, however, neither the garrison’s warships nor fighters moved. Instead, they, like her, simply watched as her eight squadrons moved in and engaged the newcomers. A tinge of guilt and sorrow struck Becket when she noticed Rogue squadron was among those moving to launch their attack. One of the squadron’s senior pilots had been promoted to Flight Leader, and now held the call sign Rogue One. The holes in the squadron’s numbers had been filled by new pilots who had shipped in with the reinforcements. Without Georgia, they no longer carry the same threat, she thought.

Even so, the ninety-six fighters charged the Protectorate ships without hesitation. Nine were shot down before they could fire their antimatter missiles. The rest fired two each. Just a quarter of them made it to their targets, but every one that hit ate large holes into the Protectorate ships. In the space of three seconds, thirty-one of the seventy Protectorate ships were crippled or destroyed.

Realizing the impossibility of their situation, the rest turned and began to slow. Shuttles launched from many of them, and moved towards their stricken comrades. Rescue operations began, and several of the more damaged Protectorate ships looked like they were being taken under tow. For half an hour Becket watched the Protectorates’ attempts to get as many of their ships back out of the system as possible. She half expected the garrison to try something to help their endangered friends, yet still they didn’t move. “Another eight squadrons to finish them off,” Becket ordered once Rogue squadron and the rest of her first attack force returned to their carriers and began to refuel and rearm.

The second strike, when it came, proved devastating. At the cost of just five more fighters, every undamaged Protectorate ship was struck by at least one antimatter missile. Most were destroyed outright. An hour later, SAR shuttles picked up three pilots who had managed to eject from the two attacks, reducing the losses to Becket’s forces even further. Then, what was left of the Protectorate ships were forced to surrender as one of her picket squadrons eventually caught up to the damaged Protectorates and threatened to destroy them completely.

For two more days after the one-sided battle, no additional Protectorate ships tried to break the blockade. Whether they were out there and had learned their lesson and so were waiting for more ships to come, or there simply weren’t any more sizable Protectorate squadrons nearby, Becket wasn’t certain. None of the scouting squadrons she had out in the nearby systems had picked up any movements. Yet the sudden appearance of the seventy Protectorate ships told her the scouting squadrons weren’t infallible. Either way, she was able to continue the blockade and her preparations for the eventual assault without hindrance.

*

Almost to the hour, a week after her fleet jumped into the Farvul’vian system, Becket was woken up with the news she had been waiting for. Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet had finally arrived. Knowing there was no rush, she took her time having breakfast and enjoying a coffee as she read through several reports. When she did make it to Trident’s bridge, Davenport’s fleet was close to joining the ships Becket had in formation with her flagship. Though Armitage had already informed her about Davenport’s numbers, she was still excited by the sight of them. Clearly, at least one Conclave fleet had managed to join up with Davenport. Looking more closely, Becket thought she recognized Rear Admiral Zoeledon’s flagship.

“Both Admirals have done well with their supply trains if they have managed to keep so many warships operational over the last month,” she said as she smiled at Albright and sat in her command chair.

“They have over four hundred supply freighters with them,” Albright commented. “Though I expect they must be running close to empty. We’ve already received supply requests from most of their squadrons. I have our logistic officers preparing what they need now.”

Becket nodded. “And Davenport’s report?” she asked.

“I’ve sent it to your console, Admiral,” Albright responded.

Becket accessed it and began to read as she waited for Zeus to come into two-way communication range. Though Davenport had somehow allowed one of the Protectorate raiding fleets to slip past her, she had more than made up for it. The other Protectorate fleet that had been raiding Conclave space, and the two northern Rasmorse fleet bases were all destroyed. Whoever comes here to attack us at Farvul’vian won’t be using them to keep their fleet in supply, Becket thought. And maybe they’ll think twice before sending another fleet to attack Conclave worlds.

“We can hail Zeus now, Admiral,” Lieutenant Rodgers informed Becket.

“Put her and Rear Admiral Zoeledon on the main screen,” Becket requested. Moments later, Davenport’s and Zoeledon’s faces appeared in front of her. “Greetings, Rear Admirals, it seems we have both accomplished the preliminary stages of our plan. Now it is time for the main event. Are your fleets ready?”

Both Rear Admirals nodded. “We are ready to begin when you are, Admiral,” Davenport replied. “I see Admiralty House has been able to keep sending us reinforcements.”

“Indeed they have,” Becket assured her subordinate. “As have our allies, we’ve received reinforcements from the Vestarians, the Varanni Alliance, the Mindus and the Nanee. We have a hodgepodge fleet, but we know our business.”

“Spending two decades preparing to fight the Karacknids has its benefits,” Zoeledon said. “If we didn’t all share the same technologies and supply needs, it would be a nightmare operating together.”

“It certainly would be,” Becket replied.

“Just when do you hope to begin our attack?” Zoeledon asked next.

“I’d like to take half a day to run some drills and live fire exercises together to make sure we are all on the same page,” Becket answered. “But I want to begin within the day. We encountered a lot of Eaglaton warships and fighters in and around the Genese system when we attacked it. I fear they are the leading elements of a larger Eagleton fleet. If it is on its way here, it can’t be more than a few days away now. We need to strike while we can.”

“And the asteroid freighters?” Davenport asked.

Becket smiled. “They are ready. I have been keeping them outside the system, but I’ll be sending orders for them to join us now that you have arrived.”

“From everything we’ve learned about the Protectorates, they seem to be well aware of our tactics and capabilities,” Davenport responded. “They may have anticipated what you are planning. Even so, I don’t see how they can counter it, at least not without antimatter weapons.”

“They may have other tricks up their sleeves, but even if they do, they’ll have to waste resources on them that they should be devoting towards our destruction,” Becket said, “the freighters should give us the edge we need. In any case, we are going to find out soon enough.”

For another ten minutes, Becket explained the finer points of the plan she had developed since entering the system. Then they discussed the battles the two Rear Admirals had fought. Eventually, Becket let them return to their forces to prepare them to join with her fleet. After spending an hour with her staff officers outlining all the drills she wanted to run through, there was no other excuse Becket had to delay what she knew she needed to do. “I’ll be in my office,” she said as she stood and nodded to Albright. “I’ll be back momentarily to begin the drills.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Albright said in a low tone, suggesting he understood what she was going to do.

When she got to her office, Becket took a seat and activated her desk’s COM unit. She selected Kestrel and requested a private meeting with the cruiser’s Captain. She had to stop herself from biting her lip when Jonathan Somerville appeared in front of her. “Jonathan,” she said as she forced a smile on her face. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I hear you have been earning quite the reputation for yourself and your PD drones. I suspect the Fleet’s R&D division will be turning out a few more PD cruisers in the future.”

Jonathan’s cheeks reddened as he looked away for a second. “Thank you, Admiral, your words mean a lot to me. I will make sure my crew hear them as well. They are the ones who have made our successes possible.”

Becket felt worse for raising up Jonathan’s emotions just before she stomped all over them. Yet she hadn’t known how else to begin the conversation. Straightening her face, she forced herself to it. “I’m afraid I have some very bad news,” she said. Jonathan’s expression darkened immediately. “It’s your sister Georgia,” she continued, coming straight to it. “She was part of a squadron that I sent out to raid several Rasmorse worlds to the south of here. The squadron was ambushed, and she led a small group of fighters to try and head off the ambush and allow her carriers to escape. She was successful and all but two of the ships were saved. However, I’m sorry to tell you, Georgia didn’t survive. She gave her life to save her friends and her ships.”

Jonathan stared at her for several seconds unblinkingly. His head shook back and forth ever so slightly. “I am sorry, Jonathan. I don’t know what else to say. I know we all accepted the risks when we signed up to the Navy. But that doesn’t make it any easier. If there is any comfort to take in her death, it’s that she died fighting for what she believed in. For what we both fight for. And for what your parents have lived their lives for.”

Jonathan’s voice broke as he spoke. “I can’t… I can’t believe it,” he said as he shook his head more vigorously. “When?”

“Six weeks ago,” Becket answered, struggling to find more words of comfort.

“All this time and I knew nothing, felt nothing,” Jonathan said. He looked away quickly and Becket could see him squeezing his eyes shut. Two tears quickly ran down each cheek as he did.

“I’m sending you the full report on the events that led up to her death,” Becket said as Jonathan continued to look away from her. “Hopefully, they will bring you some comfort. And you have my permission to contact Archimedes’ Captain or any of Georgia’s pilots to speak to them about what happened as well.” Becket paused for a moment, giving Jonathan a chance to reply, but he only nodded.

“I have already sent word back to Earth and your parents,” she continued. “But I am sure they would appreciate hearing from you as well. If you want to write a letter, I will make sure it is on the next packet ship headed home.”

Jonathan raised a hand to wipe one of his eyes. “Thank you, Admiral,” he said as his gaze returned to meet hers. “I feared this day would come. But as she survived battle after battle, I began to think she was invincible. My parents always feared the odds would catch up to her, though. They will be heartbroken. After everything that has been taken from them already.” Jonathan gave a firm nod as he regained some control of his facial expressions. “I will write to them at once, though I fear it will give them little comfort.”

“Even hearing you are alive and well will be a great help,” Becket assured him. “And they will take comfort in the way Georgia gave her life. I too, started to think she was invincible, but according to her fellow pilots, the fighters she came up against appear to be the Eaglaton’s best. Even so, she faced down odds of more than three to one, and nearly won out.”

“I am sure she gave them hell,” Jonathan said, the smallest of smiles breaking out between his lips. “She wouldn’t have gone down easily. Not Georgia.”

“She was as fierce in death as she was in life,” Becket assured Jonathan. Jonathan nodded, but again his eyes closed, and Becket saw more tears. “I will leave you to read the reports and write your letter, Captain,” Becket said, sensing Jonathan needed some time alone with his grief. “But don’t hesitate to call and speak again. I’ve always thought of both of you as family, so I’m here for you if you need it.”

Jonathan met her eyes again. “Thank you, Admiral, we have both felt the same. And thank you for your words to my parents. I know whatever you said will have helped.”

“I mean what I said, do not hesitate to call if you need,” Becket repeated. She then gave Jonathan a sorrowful smile before she reached forward and cut the COM channel. As soon as the Captain’s face disappeared, she sat back in her command chair and let out a long, slow breath. Despite having done it hundreds of times throughout the Karacknid War, it never got easier. And it never will, she said to herself as a flash of anger passed through her. As long as there were civilizations like the Protectorates out there who wanted to invade their neighbors, Humanity would always be losing her sons and daughters. But this time, we’re the ones who will put an end to this, Becket promised herself as she focused her attention on Farvul’vian and its defenses, for soon she was going to rip them to shreds.

Chapter 30

To besiege a fortified system is child’s play, to assault one is another matter entirely.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

Trident, 27th June May 2510 AD.

Eighteen hours after Rear Admiral Davenport’s fleet jumped into the system, Becket turned to Albright and gave the order to attack. “Signal all fleets, it is time to begin.”

On the holo display, the three formations she had split her fleets into began to move. She, Admiral Shraw, and Rear Admiral Davenport commanded each group of seven hundred ships. With their noses pointed towards Farvul’vian, they began to advance. Becket had her fleets lined up so that they could fire separate missile salvos that would converge on Farvul’vian’s defenders at once. She was taking a leaf out of the Karacknids’ playbook. In a battle where they had the numerical advantage, they loved to split their forces and overwhelm an opponent’s defenses by attacking from multiple angles.

It was risky, for it allowed one’s enemy to isolate and defeat a portion of your fleet, but Becket had no intention of letting that happen. Already, she had most of her eight hundred fighters in space ready to rush to the aid of one of her three fleets if the Protectorate garrison warships tried to break orbit and engage it.

“Freighters are beginning their attack run now, Admiral,” Lieutenant Farnsworth reported.

“Keep their escorts close to them,” Becket responded.

On the holo display, forty contacts began to race towards Farvul’vian at full speed. Around them, six squadrons of Hellcats kept station. Weeks ago, back at Ulan’nagn, within hours of receiving the star maps Captain Somerville had captured, she had given orders for the freighters in question to begin their preparations. Since then, they had spent countless hours searching through asteroid fields for just the right chunks of rocks. Now their hulls were filled with asteroids laced with trace elements of super heavy metals.

They were about to carry out a tactic first used by Admiral Korolyov, once someone Becket had considered an enemy, then an ally, and eventually a close friend before his death fighting the Karacknids. Since then, the tactic had been used and modified several times. Becket moved to the edge of her seat. If the Protectorates had good intel on Humanity’s past battles, they should have expected what was to come. Whatever counter they had planned, would have to come soon.

The enemy commander didn’t disappoint. Five minutes later, the Protectorate carriers and orbital hangers began to spew fighters. Seven hundred were launched, formed up together, and then accelerated out to meet the freighters.

“Admiral, what do you want to do?” Albright asked.

Becket knew what he was asking. There was still enough time for her to order all her fighters to charge ahead of the freighters and engage the enemy formation. We don’t have enough of a numerical advantage for that, Becket told herself. A straight-up fight would risk too many of her fighters. “What if we release the asteroids just before they can engage the freighters?” she asked as she turned to Farnsworth.

Farnsworth tapped furiously on his console. On a secondary holo display, a simulation appeared. “The asteroid chunks will disperse forty percent wider than is ideal,” Farnsworth said. “But quite a few will still reach their intended targets. We’ll have to slow the fleet and it will give their point defenses more time to engage the asteroids, but I imagine their fighters will have a hell of a time.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Becket ordered, knowing from the start she wasn’t going to get everything her way. “Albright, work out updated flight paths for our three fleets.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Albright replied.

Twenty minutes passed after Becket’s three fleets slowed and the freighters and enemy fighters continued to rush towards one another. “Sending the orders to the freighters in thirty seconds,” Farnsworth reported.

Becket nodded at him and waited to see the fruit of the mining freighters’ crews’ labor. Less than a second after Farnsworth sent the order, the forty freighters suddenly stopped accelerating. Over the course of five seconds, their reactors and engines shut down. Then, when it was safe to do so, charges that had been placed throughout each automated freighter detonated. At once, the ships lost all structural integrity and began to break apart. Their large cargo bays were already orientated so that the thousands of asteroid chunks they carried spilled out into space towards Farvul’vian.

Becket’s plan wasn’t complete yet, for she had modified Koroylov’s original idea herself. Each chunk of rock had several maneuvering thrusters attached to them. At a second command from Farnsworth, they used their thrusters to orientate themselves to face Farvul’vian. Then another group of small explosive charges placed right at the back of each asteroid chunk detonated. The explosions ripped the asteroids into thousands of smaller rocks and imparted even more momentum, forcing them towards Farvul’vian.

Suddenly, the Farvul’vian defensive gunners were faced with over twenty million small chunks of rocks hurtling towards them. Most weren’t large enough to completely destroy a ship or battlestation if it was hit, but they would do damage, and just as importantly, they would play havoc with the defenders’ tracking sensor as every rock would reflect the electromagnetic energy given off by the Protectorates’ active targeting sensors.

The Protectorates’ problems didn’t begin there however, for with almost no warning, their eight hundred fighters found themselves flying into an asteroid field. One made up of hundreds of thousands of small rocks all crashing into one another randomly. As the eight Hellcat squadrons that had been escorting the freighters pulled up and away to safety, the Protectorates had to fight for their lives.

First, at extreme range, the Protectorates tried to fire their lasers at the incoming rocks. Hundreds were vaporized by the fighters’ fire. Yet, each fighter had barely started to clear a path for itself when the rocks began to zip past them. Flashes filled Trident’s main holo display as rocks almost the size of fighters began to rip into the Protectorates. They continued for the entire twenty seconds it took for the enemy fighters to fly through the dense cloud of destruction. Nearly a third of the Protectorate fighters didn’t make it through.

More than one bridge officer let out a low whistle or other expression of victory. “My congratulations, Lieutenant,” Becket said to Farnsworth. “That proved even more effective than you predicted.”

“I think we caught them by surprise, Admiral,” Farnsworth said.

“They were probably thinking they’d be engaging the larger asteroid chunks released by the freighters,” Albright commented.

Farnsworth nodded. “And without shields, they’ve suffered even more than our fighters would.”

“It was good work,” Becket said as she watched the enemy fighters turn and run back towards Farvul’vian. No doubt, they didn’t want to hang about in case she ordered her fighters in to engage them further. “But the battle is still only beginning. How long until we can open fire?”

“Three minutes,” Farnsworth said. “The Protectorates can fire in sixty seconds,” he added, anticipating Becket’s next question.

When Farvul’vian’s defenders did open fire, it was an impressive sight. One hundred and seven thousand missiles were suddenly launched into space. Every single one was targeted at Becket’s seven hundred ships. Without waiting for orders from her, Albright started redirecting every fighter and Lancer frigate to move to intercept them. Then it was the turn of Becket’s three fleets to open fire. Together, they unleashed two hundred and ten thousand missiles. Then, they all immediately began to decelerate and angle up and away from Farvul’vian. Before they got out of range again however, they fired a second volley.

In response, the Protectorates revealed their first surprise of the battle. Hanger bay doors and hull sections were opened on almost every civilian orbital station, and more than five hundred shuttles and small private ships poured out. Moving together in a loose formation, they advanced ahead of the Protectorate warships and battlestations.

“They’re going to use them like our Lancer frigates,” Albright guessed.

“Except they have a lot more of them,” Becket replied. The Protectorates had been busy since Davenport’s feint attack. She had no doubts each small ship was covered in point defense cannons. Their fire controls and sensors wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as a Lancer frigate’s, but with five hundred of them, they didn’t need to be. “Redirect our second missile salvo, take them all out,” Becket ordered reluctantly. It was not how she had wanted to use her second salvo, but in the long run, it was the better choice.

The first will just have to do all the damage, she told herself as her first two hundred thousand missiles quickly began to catch up with the immense cloud or asteroid chunks. Before her attack could land, however, the Protectorates launched their second surprise.

“They’re firing again!” Farnsworth called out. “But the launches are strange… wait, they haven’t fired their long-range missiles. These have a profile I haven’t seen before. I don’t know what they are…”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Becket said, now certain the Protectorates had anticipated she would try an attack with asteroids.

Sure enough, the Protectorate missiles barely accelerated past their forward small ships before they detonated. Right in front of the cloud of asteroids chunks, they exploded in massive thermonuclear detonations. Trident’s sensors were momentarily overwhelmed. Only when the megajoules of energy began to dissipate did they start to clear. When the holo display updated, nearly a third of the asteroid cloud was gone, obliterated by the explosions.

Seconds later, the small Protectorate ships began to engage the asteroid cloud. With their thousands of laser cannons, they had a much easier time clearing a path for themselves. Still, several were hit and ripped apart by the deadly rocks. Then the image of Farvul’vian shimmered and grew indistinct on the holo display. The rest of the colony’s defenders had opened up with their point defenses. Between the megajoules of energy fired out from their laser cannons, the copious amounts of electromagnetic energy from their active sensors, and the explosions as asteroids were hit and split apart, Trident’s sensors couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Struggling even more, into the maelstrom flew the two hundred and ten thousand Imperial mark VII missiles. Some struck asteroid chunks as they carried out evasive maneuvers. Many others were taken out by point defensive fire, for despite the confusion, they were far easier to track than the small asteroids. Yet tens of thousands got close enough to begin to detonate. Antimatter blooms erupted amidst the defender’s positions. Confusion reigned as stations, ships and defense satellites were negated breaking the various chains of command.

The destruction wasn’t over yet, however, for right behind the missiles came the last remnants of the asteroid cloud. Small explosions rippled all across the Protectorate ships, battlestations, and civilian stations as chunks ranging in size from a fingernail to a star fighter smashed into anything in their way. Seconds later, the night's sky on Farvul’vian’s surface lit up like dawn had broken as tens of thousands of small rock chunks and warship fragments began to burn up in the atmosphere.

On Trident, the sheer amount of energy coming from Farvul’vian made it impossible to tell just how much destruction had been wrought. Even as it began to dissipate, Becket had to wait to find out how successful her attack had been, for the Protectorates’ first salvo caught up and dived in against her retreating ships. Allied fighters and Lancer frigates blunted their attack, but they couldn’t negate it entirely. As missiles detonated, converting their thermonuclear energy into grazer beams that struck out at her ships, it was Becket’s turn to see explosions fill her holo display.

Located at the heart of her fleet’s formation, Trident was well protected. Damage reports from other ships quickly started coming in, however. “I think we have fourteen ships completely destroyed, Admiral,” Albright reported. “Including Triumphant.” Becket winced at the loss of the dreadnought. All three thousand of her crew had likely been lost. “Fifty-six other ships reporting damage,” Albright continued. “Twenty-three believe they cannot stay in the fight.”

“Give them permission to pull back to our supply fleet,” Becket ordered. “And prioritize the repairs to our other ships, if they can stay in the fight, I want them as battle-ready as possible. Pull repair crews from the ships that have to fall back.”

For three more minutes, Becket saw to her damaged ships, then she finally allowed herself to turn back to the main holo display and the images coming through from Farvul’vian. “Farnsworth, how did we do?” She asked.

“I just finished tallying the damage they had taken now, Captain.” Farnsworth answered. “I estimate we have taken out around ten percent of their strength. Forty of their warships are gone, and I believe eight battlestations have been completely destroyed. Many other ships and stations look like they’ve taken damage, but it’s hard to estimate just how much their battle effectiveness has been compromised.” Farnsworth nodded towards the holo display. “Our second salvo is coming in now.”

Becket watched its progress. She would have loved the two hundred and ten thousand missiles to be crashing into the already damaged and disorientated warships and battlestations. Yet, Farvul’vian’s defenders were far from defeated, and in the long run the four hundred and eighty small ships she was targeting would cause her as much of a headache.

Alone and somewhat isolated, the small Protectorate ships found themselves in a great deal of trouble. When they realized the Allied missiles were targeting them, they began to accelerate towards Farvul’vian. The colony’s defenders were able to give them some cover with their point defenses. But antimatter missiles began detonating among the small ships long before they reached the colony itself. When the final antimatter bloom receded, just twenty-four of the small ships remained. They continued to fall back to Farvul’vian and slotted into formation around the colonies’ battlestations.

As they did, Becket surveyed the condition of the colony’s defenses. They had taken a battering, yes, but they still looked formidable. Certainly, her ships still had a task on their hands taking the world. But, we have made a good start, she said to herself. And now, we will finish it. “Call in our other two fleets, let us form up together and begin the second phase of our plan,” she said as she turned to Albright.

Half an hour later, and Becket had her three fleets formed up into one tight ball where their defensive fire could overlap with one another. Then they advanced once again on Farvul’vian. Not wanting to give the defenders any significant time to make good the damage they had suffered, Becket pressed her attack.

Counting on her numerical advantage, she moved her fleet to where she could bombard Farvul’vian with her long-range missiles. Deploying her fighters and Lancer frigates forward again, for an hour and a half, her warships fired salvo after salvo at the colony’s defenders. At first, they fired salvos every four minutes and fifty-five seconds. Gradually, thanks to damage and a loss of cohesion, the timing fell off to closer to one every six minutes. Nevertheless, they kept up a steady barrage on the Protectorates.

For their part, the Protectorates could do nothing but hunker down and return fire. Deploying their own fighters forward, they did their best to defend themselves. Outnumbered, their best wasn’t good enough. Slowly but surely, the Protectorate’s strength was whittled away, and whilst Becket continued to suffer losses herself, the Protectorates suffered more.

When the fire coming her fleet’s way had been reduced enough where no missiles were getting through, Becket recalled most of her fighters. After quickly refueling them, she gave them permission to attack. Swooping in on the Protectorate fighters, they ripped into them. The Protectorates, outnumbered, running low on fuel, and without anti-fighter missiles, were decimated. Within minutes, the survivors had to turn and flee back to the safety of what little defensive fire came from the remaining battlestations and warships.

Without their fighter cover, Becket’s next two salvos proved even more effective. As the antimatter blooms receded from what was the eighteenth salvo she had fired, barely a tenth of the Protectorate’s strength was left. Just three battlestations and sixty-seven warships remained. To her surprise, whatever Protectorate commander was left recognized the battle was over. First the battlestations, and then the warships all started transmitting signals indicating they wished to surrender. In response, Becket held back her next salvo. Before she could rush forces forward to take control of the enemy ships and stations, shuttles and escape pods began launching from them and rushing towards the colony’s surface. Within minutes, they started to detonate as they were all self-destructed.

“Get fighters forward and have General Kurowski launch his marines,” Becket snapped. “None of their civilian stations have self-destructed yet but if we give them long enough, I’m sure they’ll figure out ways to do it. I want as many of those stations secured as possible. We may need them. Bring our fleet into low obit, as well. We’ll cover the marines with our guns. And launch all our SAR shuttles, I want as many of our people rescued from our crippled ships as possible.”

For another hour, she supervised her fleet as General Kurowski’s marines secured Farvul’vian’s orbitals. Only once the last stations were secured did Becket allow herself to start to relax. However, she was far from being ready to retire to her quarters for a well-deserved sleep. Instead, she ordered her supply fleet to rendezvous with her at Farvul’vian, for her ships desperately needed to restock their missile magazines. Then she organized the repairs many of her ships would need as well as preparing a squadron of ships that would have to be sent back to Bastion for more significant work.

Next, Becket turned to organizing the rest of her fleet. She formed two squadrons of one hundred and fifty ships each to send to Secassman and Cannle to nominally occupy the strategic systems. Then hundreds more light ships were organized into scouting and raiding squadrons and dispatched with orders to move out and attack nearby worlds, and be on the lookout for advancing Eaglaton forces.

Finally, she selected one of her best frigate Captains. Giving him explicit orders not to engage any enemy ships, she sent him out on a direct course to Genese with one message for the first Protectorate forces he encountered; if the Protectorates were willing, she was ready to stop her advance, declare a ceasefire and open peace negotiations.

“That is it,” she said as the frigate broke away from the fleet and raced towards one of the system’s shift passages. She spoke loud enough for all her officers to hear. “We’ve done all we can do. Now we stand here and let them come to us. Let us hope they are willing to talk, but if not, we must be ready to fight.”

“We will be ready, Admiral, don’t worry, we will be ready,” Albright said, his voice filled with the same grit the rest of her officers showed on their faces.

Becket had no doubts about that; after what they had all shown over the last several hours, she trusted each of them implicitly. Even so, she was still filled with concern. If the Eaglatons weren’t willing to negotiate, then she would have no choice but to fight. She needed to buy more time for Emperor Somerville to get more ships into the sector and to reinforce Bastion and the Conclave world’s defenses. But we have the central position, Becket reassured herself. That was why she had no intention of retreating, for if she did, she would suddenly find herself having to defend Bastion, Ulan’nagn, Dudllias, the Gift and all of the Conclave border worlds. To do so successfully, she’d need ten times the number of ships she had. Yet, where she was, it was the Protectorates who had to defend all their worlds while she could keep her forces concentrated.

I just hope it is enough, she thought as she nodded to Albright, stood, and fighting to keep the strain and tiredness from her face, made her way off the bridge into her quarters. Despite her concerns, she was asleep within seconds of her head touching her pillow.

Chapter 31

An Imperial Navy Captain must retain control of their faculties at all times. Far too much responsibility lies on their shoulders for them not to take their role seriously. Any cadet that sees the command track of the academy as an opportunity for entertainment or frivolity should transfer out immediately.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Kestrel, 2nd July 2510 AD, (five days later).

Though Jonathan and Kestrel had played their part in the Battle of Farvul’vian, the battle was blurred in his memories. His cruiser had been deployed forward with the Lancer frigates once again. In one salvo, the Protectorates had targeted them, destroying twelve Lancer frigates, and forcing the rest to retreat. Kestrel however, had escaped unscathed and had fallen back to the main fleet to fight out the rest of the battle.

Jonathan knew who had commanded his ship’s defense, and given the order to fall back, but it was all a haze. Grief, pain, and anger were what he remembered the most. Each enemy warship destroyed and each battlestation that had been ripped apart had brought him a little spark of joy. Yet it had been fleeting, and no matter how many enemies were defeated, their deaths could not undo the loss that engulfed him.

After the battle, Becket had dispatched Kestrel and two frigates to a system the Rasmorse called Malkim. The system’s star had collapsed into itself long ago to form a pulsar star. With its worlds no longer habitable, the only Rasmorse activity was a small planetary mining operation on the system’s third planet. It was however one potential route any fleet coming from the southern Rasmorse colonies might take on its way to Farvul’vian.

After ordering mining facilities in the base be evacuated and then bombing them, Kestrel’s task was to watch for approaching enemy forces. Though he knew his mission was important, Jonathan struggled to care. The whole war was pointless. It had been from the beginning. He had told Lvant just as much the first time they had met, and yet, still Lvant had tried to slip ships past Achilles and capture or destroy his first command. Now, things had been escalated a thousand times over. Jonathan was angry. All the deaths were for nothing. Especially his sister’s! Yes she had fought valiantly. But what had it accomplished in the end? Several ships had been saved, but they had only lived to fight another day. Some had even been badly damaged and destroyed in the Battle of Farvul’vian.

So what had her death accomplished? He kept asking himself. If the Protectorates were just going to go on attacking them again and again, the war would end up sucking all of the Empire’s strength and seeing thousands of ships and millions of the Empire’s citizens killed. And all over lies the Protectorates believed! That was what angered Jonathan the most. Whether because they were fools, or because they had made up lies themselves, the Protectorates were fighting for all the wrong reasons, and now his sister was dead. All because of them.

In his more lucid moments, Jonathan had to admit to himself that he was feeding his anger to suppress the sorrow that filled him. Yet those moments were when his sorrow assaulted him the most, and so it was just easier to let his rage replace it. It was also easier to keep himself away from the rest of his officers, especially Cortez and Lydia. Both had stepped in to lift the burden of command from his shoulders. Jonathan had welcomed those efforts. Yet in addition, at various times, they had also been trying to distract him, get him to talk about how he was feeling, or encourage him to talk about Georgia. None of which he wanted to do.

That was why, when Cortez told him Lieutenant Harte needed help with one of his PD drones, Jonathan was suspicious. With a sigh, he went to Kestrel’s third hanger where Harte was at work, for he wasn’t yet at the point where he was willing to forsake his duty entirely. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked as he moved over to where Harte had one of the drones opened up, and several of its internal systems removed and sitting on the hanger’s deck.

Harte looked up startled at Jonathan’s sudden appearance. “Captain, sorry, yes. I mean, sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay Lieutenant,” Jonathan replied. “Cortez said you could maybe use some help. If not, I can leave you to it.”

“I don’t know if you can help, Captain,” Harte said hesitantly. He had a look in his eyes that told Jonathan the young man didn’t know what to say around his bereaved Captain. Though he understood how the Lieutenant felt, Jonathan couldn’t help but be irritated.

“There’s something up with this drone’s targeting systems,” Harte continued explaining. “But both its fire control computer and sensor array are both testing within normal ranges. I’ve had a couple of engineering ensigns working on it with me, but their shift just ended.”

Jonathan felt conflicted. A large part of him just wanted to go back to his quarters, but another knew Kestrel needed all her drones operational. And he was a little annoyed at Harte’s lack of confidence in him, too. He had spent one of his years as a Sub Lieutenant in the engineering department of a battleship. Though it had been a while, he knew his way around the internal systems of most Imperial hardware.

“All right, let’s take a look at it,” he said with a sigh, still suspecting Cortez had set him up. More than likely, she had pulled the two ensigns away just so he would feel guilty leaving Harte to work on such an important task by himself.

Despite his suspicions, as he got stuck in, Jonathan slowly warmed up to the work. If nothing else, it was another way to distract himself from his grief. For forty minutes, he and Harte worked in near silence as they continued to take the drone apart.

“Did you build any drones growing up?” Harte asked as he handed Jonathan a small component. His head suddenly turned around to Jonathan, and his eyes widened when he realized he had asked a personal question.

Harte’s instincts were right, Jonathan didn’t want to talk about anything beyond the immediate task. Yet Harte’s response made him feel bad. “Plenty,” he replied. “My dad wanted me to have a working knowledge of most of the systems in the Palace. And so we took apart a number of the cleaner drones and even one of the security ones. We got plenty of recreational drones given to us as gifts from visiting officials as well. What about you?”

Harte shook his head. “Not really, we didn’t have too many drones in our house growing up. My dad always said having them would make us soft.” Again, Harte froze, suddenly fearing he had offended Jonathan.

Jonathan smiled. “Don’t worry, I imagine my dad would agree. They were a necessary evil though, but I assure you, he found other ways to make sure I had plenty of challenges growing up. So, where are you from?”

“Ireland,” Harte said with pride.

Jonathan smiled again. Despite his parents being the Emperor and Empress of the Human race, they had once been citizens of the British Star Kingdom which had included the northern parts of Ireland. They had taken him and his siblings on a number of trips to the island, and he had fond memories of its scenery. “A beautiful place,” he said. “Do you miss it?”

Harte nodded enthusiastically. “The green and the mountains especially. I haven’t seen another world quite like it yet. Though they are all beautiful in their own way.”

“What do your parents do?” Jonathan asked as he opened up one of the drone’s power converters to test it.

“My dad’s a carpenter, my mum is a nurse,” Harte replied. “No one in my family has served in the army or navy before. It was quite the stir when I said I wanted to sign up.”

“I imagine it was, I’m sure you’ve made them proud,” Jonathan said. “You’re certainly proving your worth with these drones.”

Harte blushed and looked away. “I don’t know. My sister is training to be a doctor, I think my parents are a little prouder of her.” Harte’s head spun around towards Jonathan aghast that he had brought up his sister. “I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to…”

Jonathan turned away from his subordinate, not wanting Harte to see the fresh grief that filled him. “It’s okay,” he said as he waved a hand at the Lieutenant. “You’re talking about your family, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Despite his words, Jonathan returned his focus to the task in front of him. Harte did the same, and their brief conversation ended there. Ten minutes later, Lydia showed up. Her arrival confirmed Jonathan’s suspicions, for he realized he had been in the hanger for over an hour, and he and Harte hadn’t been disturbed, something that was all but impossible in such a busy ship. Her words also told Jonathan what was going on, for there was no way she had time to work on a drone.

“Hi, Captain,” she said joyfully as she walked towards them. “I just finished my shift and have a bit of free time. Do you mind if I help, I hear this drone is getting the better of Harte here.”

Jonathan saw Harte’s face tightened like he wanted to protest, but then something passed between them as their eyes met. “I could certainly use the help,” Harte said.

Jonathan shook his head at the expectant smile on Lydia’s face. “Fine, you can help,” he said, only because now that he had started, he wanted to finish figuring out what was wrong with the drone.

For another hour, the three of them worked together. On several occasions, Lydia tried to draw him into talking about one menial topic or another. Though he knew she meant well, Jonathan resisted each time. He answered enough to end the conversation, and then went back to the work. When they finally found the problem, an energy transfer circuit that was feeding random jolts of energy to the drone’s active sensors, Jonathan stood and stretched. “There, I think you two can take it from here. All you need to do is put it back together again. I’m sure two Lieutenants can handle that, can’t they?”

“Yes, we’ve got it Captain, thank you for all your help,” Harte said before he caught the look on Lydia’s face.

Jonathan gave his Second Lieutenant a sweet smile. “I guess I’ll see you later, Lydia.” He nodded to Harte. “Lieutenant, good work.”

Turning, he left his two subordinates to it. For a few brief seconds, he enjoyed the realization that he hadn’t thought of Georgia once over the last hour. For a moment, he had also felt like himself again. Yet realizing he hadn’t thought of Georgia just filled his mind with memories of his sister once again. Guilt assaulted him as he felt bad for forgetting about her. Then the grief returned. By the time he had walked back to his quarters, he felt as full of grief and anger as when he had left.

His anger intensified when he found a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him on his desk. That it wasn’t coffee was his steward’s way of telling him he should be going to bed soon. Ignoring the steaming mug, Jonathan instead pulled one of the bottles of wine his mother had packed for him. Though he knew she had intended it for when he was entertaining important guests, he opened it and began to work on it by himself.

*

Sometime later, Jonathan woke to a strange buzzing sound. He groaned as his head throbbed with each reverberation of the noise. It took him a couple of seconds to realize it was his COM unit and a couple more to grasp it was a priority call. “What is it?” he asked quietly after tapping it.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Artex’s clear voice said loudly, filling Jonathan’s quarters and his head. “Three ships have just jumped into the system. We believe they are Eaglatons, a medium cruiser and two frigates.”

Jonathan’s grogginess cleared instantly. Though his head continued to throb, he did his best to ignore it. The Eaglatons had killed his sister. They were the ones who had brought such grief upon him. By chance, the enemy was perfectly matched against his force. This was one battle he was not going to run from. One way or another, I’m going to end this misery. “Right, I’m coming right away,” he replied forcefully. “Call all senior officers to their stations.”

“Understood, Captain,” Artex replied.

Standing from the seat he had fallen asleep in, Jonathan looked down at his crumpled uniform. He couldn’t go out to lead his people looking so disheveled. Stepping from his office through to his bedroom, he bumped into Heaton laying out a fresh uniform on the bed. “Captain,” Heaton said as he turned. “I thought you might like to change.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jonathan said as Heaton helped him out of his tunic. Heaton then disappeared as Jonathan continued to dress. He reappeared moments later with a steaming mug, this time of coffee.

“To help clear your mind, Captain,” Heaton said as he handed the mug to Jonathan, forcing Jonathan to take it. Heaton then stepped back, though only half a meter. Unblinkingly, he stared up at Jonathan waiting for him to take a sip.

Knowing Heaton wouldn’t back down, Jonathan raised the coffee to his lips. Within moments of taking a mouthful, he felt his body reacting. His headache lessened and his stomach rumbled. Suddenly, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. He shot Heaton a dirty look, making his steward aware he knew full well he had just been drugged, then he all but ran for the adjoining en-suite.

When he stepped back into the bedroom a minute later, Jonathan’s eyes covered the room in anger. There was no sign of Heaton, however. With a growl, Jonathan reluctantly decided to leave Heaton for later. He had bigger fish to fry. With his body and emotions coiled up like a spring, he set off towards the door from his quarters to the corridor to the bridge. He moved so fast that the doors just managed to swish open before he hit them. Without warning, Jonathan slammed into a brick wall.

He stumbled back, thinking the door hadn’t opened for him. A hand reached out and steadied him, however. “On your feet, Captain,” Becca said in the same tone she used with him during their weekly sparring sessions. Grabbing onto her forearm, he regained his balance and looked up at what he had run into. To his surprise, there was nothing there but Becca. He had bounced off her like she was made of duracrete.

“Sorry, Major, I didn’t see you there,” he said. “I was going to the bridge.” Shaking himself, Jonathan started forward again. He had to stop himself when Becca didn’t move.

“I know where you were going, Captain,” Becca said. She fixed him with an unblinking gaze as she spoke. “I also know you have been drinking.”

Though she didn’t move, it seemed to Jonathan that the marine began to tower over him. “I know what I’m doing,” he said, having to force an air of command into his voice.

Beca was unfazed. “Do you?” she asked as she allowed one of her eyebrows to rise up. “Because judging by the last week, I think most naval officers would beg to differ.”

Anger filled Jonathan. “Who are you to speak to me like that? I am your Captain! Out of my way.”

Becca smiled, infuriating him further. “Are you able to move me?” she asked. “I didn’t think so,” she said, not letting Jonathan answer. “And I know who you are, you are my Captain. I would follow you almost anywhere, to death itself. But not for no purpose, and certainly not to the bottom of a bottle.” Taking a step forward, Becca forced Jonathan back into his quarters.

“And before you go getting any ideas,” she continued. “I was the one who ordered Heaton to put the stimulant into your coffee, so don’t go taking it out on him.”

“Just what do you think you’re doing!” Jonathan demanded; his eyes darted to the door that led to his office where another door would let him get to the bridge.

“You are not going anywhere, Captain,” Becca said, taking half a step in the direction Jonathan’s eyes had flickered. They both knew she was too fast for him to try and make a break for it.

“Get out of my way,” Jonathan hissed, “before I have you charged for mutiny.”

“I will happily get out of your way, Captain, if you can assure me of just one thing,” Becca replied.

“What is that?” Jonathan snapped.

“There is an enemy cruiser out there. One that wants to kill you and your crew,” Becca began.

“I know that,” Jonathan interrupted. “Where do you think I’m going?”

“My question exactly,” Becca said as she moved her face close to Jonathan’s. “Just where are you going? I’ve been watching you this last week. You have not been yourself. If I’m going to let you out of here, I need to know you are not going out there with a death wish. I will not let you throw away your life or the lives of Kestrel’s crew. Georgia didn’t throw away her life, she fought and died for a purpose. She wouldn’t forgive me if I let you throw away yours for nothing.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to protest, he was fuming at Becca’s words. But then, his own words came back to him. One way or another, I’m going to end this misery. Shame filled Jonathan. Shame at his own despair, shame from knowing what Becca saw in him, and most of all, shame from knowing what Georgia would think of him. He looked away from Becca, unable to meet her eyes.

For several seconds, his emotions ran wild. Jonathan closed his eyes as he despaired of his rank, of his responsibility and of fighting the Eaglatons. In the midst of everything else he was feeling, Becca’s words wouldn’t leave him alone. She was right. Georgia would be disappointed in him, and she wouldn’t forgive him. In the end, that was what won out. For despite the shame he felt in himself, and the shame Becca seeing him like this brought, he was far more worried about making Georgia ashamed of him.

Never forget how she died, Jonathan told himself, and of how she would have you live! Opening his eyes, a new rage filled him. One that wasn’t mixed with despair, but with control. The Eaglatons had killed his sister, and he was about to make them pay.

Surprising himself, he pulled Becca into a hug. It was so unexpected that even she wasn’t able to react quickly enough to get away. “Thank you,” Jonathan whispered to her. “You are a better friend than I deserve.”

When he let her go, Becca eyed him warily. “You are not going to sacrifice us all just to get revenge?”

Jonathan found himself smiling for the first time since he had heard the news about his sister. It wasn’t jovial, but fierce and full of determination, like the smiles he had seen Admiral Shraw give as he contemplated hunting down his prey. “No, I’m not going to throw our lives away,” he assured Becca. “But I am going to rip apart these Protectorate ships from bulkhead to bulkhead.”

Becca broke into a similar smile. “That’s my Captain.” She stepped out of Jonathan’s way. “To the bridge, Sir, there’s no time to waste dilly-dallying here.”

Jonathan surprised himself again as he rolled his eyes at the sparkle in Becca’ gaze. Then he marched past her, resolved not to let Georgia’s memory down.

Chapter 32

Wits, genius, intellect, and wisdom will get a commander far in the Navy, but a friend who will speak the truth even when it hurts, is of even greater value.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

“Sorry for being delayed,” Jonathan said to his officers as he stepped onto the bridge. “What have we got?”

“Three Eaglaton warships started accelerating into the system seven minutes ago, Captain,” Cortez reported. “A medium cruiser and two frigates. They haven’t split apart, but they have deployed quite a number of active recon drones. No signs that they have detected us yet.”

Jonathan nodded as he sat in his command chair and studied the flight path of the Eaglaton warships. They weren’t heading towards any one specific shift passage which confirmed his suspicions. They were a scouting force, presumably at the head of a larger Eaglaton fleet, possibly even the one Admiral Becket feared was on its way towards Farvul’vian.

“How soon do you think they will detect us?” Jonathan asked next. He had Kestrel, Scimitar and Hound in stealth near the system’s fifth planet. They had been hiding on the edge of its planetary ring waiting to see if any enemy ships would appear.

Lydia answered him as she zoomed in a part of the holo display. “This drone here, one we’ve designated Delta Five, it is likely to swing by the fifth planet. There’s a good chance it will detect us when it does. Say in about an hour.”

“But if we wait that long before moving, we could be trapped,” Cortez pointed out. “The Eaglatons will be too far into the system for us to run towards the shift passage back to Farvul’vian, they could cut us off.”

“You’re assuming we’re going to run,” Jonathan replied as his eyes returned to the three Eaglaton ships. “We have three enemy ships in our sights, and I have no intention of running.”

Cortez turned in her seat to face Jonathan. “But Captain, we have strict orders from Admiral Becket not to engage a stronger force.”

Jonathan nodded. “That we do,” he then gestured towards the three ships on the holo display. “But does that look like a superior force to you? That medium cruiser gives them a slight advantage in missile numbers, but thanks to our drones, we have the advantage in defensive capabilities. By my estimation, it will be a fair fight.”

Cortez half-turned and caught Lydia’s eye. Jonathan saw the concerned looks on both their faces. They, like Becca, likely thought he had a death wish. “I know what I’m doing,” he said to his two immediate subordinates, though he spoke loudly enough for all of Kestrel’s bridge officers to hear. For if Cortez and Lydia were thinking it, everyone else was too. “Those three ships are scouting a path for a larger force, are they not? One that likely intends to strike at Farvul’vian. If we can take them out, how long do you think we can delay the eventual attack on Farvul’vian?” Pausing, Jonathan looked from Cortez to Lydia. Neither made to answer, and so he waited. “Well?” He prompted after several seconds.

“A day, maybe two,” Cortez eventually said, her voice still full of worry.

“And how many extra warships might Admiral Becket receive in two days?” Jonathan asked. This time, he answered his own question. “Ten, twenty, maybe even a squadron of fifty or sixty? And what about her preparations to defend Farvul’vian, how valuable will buying her an extra two days be? Invaluable, I’d suggest.

“Look,” Jonathan continued as he softened his tone. “I am grieving the loss of my sister.” He raised a hand to point at the three Eaglaton ships. “And it was the Eaglatons who killed her. But I am still a naval Captain, and the Imperial Heir. I know what I’m doing, and I know the risks involved.” He hardened his voice again. “And I am the Captain of this ship. One we have honed into a fine fighting machine. So you two tell me, are we going to run from a battle that could buy our friends the valuable time they need to prepare their defenses?”

This time, when Cortez and Lydia shared a look, Jonathan was pleased to see it was one of confidence, not fear. “We are with you, Captain, to the death, if necessary,” Cortez said as she gave Jonathan a smile that told him she was pleased to have her Captain back.

Jonathan smiled back to let her know he was indeed back to his usual self. “I have no intention of letting that happen. But if it was to come to it, there is no better ship or crew I’d rather go down fighting with,” he said to all his officers. Pausing he turned and cast his gaze to where Becca stood guarding the main hatch onto the bridge. She nodded to say she approved. “Now, let’s avenge my sister and kick some Eaglaton butt, shall we?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Cortez said enthusiastically. “Shall I send the crew to battle stations?”

“At once,” Jonathan replied. “Then open a channel to Scimitar and Hound’s captains,” he ordered, for he now had to convince their Captains as well.

“Captains,” he said as their faces appeared in front of him. “It seems we have found what we are looking for. Or perhaps, the Eaglatons have found what they are looking for. This is obviously a scouting force preparing the way for a larger enemy fleet. What say we turn it back and delay the enemy’s advance?”

“That’s sounds like a fine idea, Somerville,” Nash of Scimitar said. “With Kestrel’s drones, we’ll have no problem licking them.”

Jonathan nodded; he expected nothing less from Nash after their previous victories together. He didn’t know Montgomery, Hound’s Captain, just as well. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

“It would be a pretty even fight,” Montgomery said. “What if we lose? We wouldn’t delay the Eaglatons and Becket wouldn’t know what is going on.”

Jonathan smiled. “A good point, one we can only address if I dispatch you to Becket with a contact report.”

“But then it wouldn’t be an even fight with the Eaglatons,” Montgomery pointed out.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jonathan replied as he shot Nash a quick grin. “But I reckon we could still take them.” Beside him, Jonathan felt Cortez stiffen. “And to make sure, I have a plan.”

“It would need to be a good one,” Montgomery said. “Three-to-two odds aren’t exactly easy to overcome. Especially as those are Eaglaton warships.”

“It is,” Jonathan assured the frigate Captain, though he glanced at Cortez too to tell her he knew he was speaking to her as well. “First, we will wait until one of their recon drones finds us. My First Lieutenant assures me that we will be cut off from escaping by then. If we try to run, we’ll be hunted down and destroyed before we can jump out. That is why Kestrel and Scimitar will be forced to turn and fight the Eaglatons to allow Hound to escape with her contact report.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Montgomery interrupted. “Why put ourselves in such a position?”

Jonathan turned to Nash. It took the Captain a moment, but then he smiled. “Because the Eaglatons will think we have no choice but to charge them to cover your escape. They will think we are fighting reluctantly.”

“Exactly, so they won’t think our movements have been planned out,” Jonathan said as he outlined what he intended to do next. For though he had spent the last several days wallowing in grief and anger in his quarters, he hadn’t been completely idle. One of the things he had tried to distract himself with had been the survey report on the system Kestrel had been assigned to. One thing made the system somewhat unique: its pulsar star. To his knowledge, never before had an Imperial warship fought in a system with a collapsed star, certainly not one that was spitting out as much radio wavelength electromagnetic radiation. It was something he could use. Or at least, he hoped so.

Five minutes later, Montgomery and Nash had agreed. Quickly then, Kestrel and Scimitar’s crews got to work making the necessary preparations. Though simple, it wasn’t something either ships’ crew had done before. When they were done, there was nothing more to do but wait and watch as the Eaglaton recon drone moved closer and closer to their position.

“I think they must have just gotten a read on us,” Lieutenant Artex reported nineteen minutes later. “The level of active emissions coming our way has to have overcome our stealth coating.”

“They are playing it cool,” Cortez guessed. “They don’t want us to know they know.”

Jonathan nodded. He had expected the drone to redirect its sensors towards Kestrel to get a better look. That would of course give away that it had detected something. That it wasn’t altering its course maybe suggested it had missed his ships, but like Cortez, he doubted it. Which left Jonathan with a dilemma. If he broke cover now, it would be because he chose to, not because the Eaglatons had forced him to.

“We need a reason to move,” Jonathan said out loud. “Something to make it look like we had no choice.”

No one responded right away as most of Kestrel’s officers looked at one another. Harte was the one who came up with an idea first. “We could launch one of the drones, then have it fire off a maneuvering thruster. If the Eaglatons have seen us, they will know we only have three ships. But the drone could make it look like there are four. If they think they’ve missed some ships, they’ll have to get a closer look.”

“Excellent,” Jonathan said as he clapped his hands together. “Get to it.”

Less than a minute later, one of Harte’s PD drones detached from Kestrel. It fired its maneuvering thrusters ever so gently for three minutes moving away from Kestrel. Then a different thruster fired harder, at twenty percent of its maximum thrust. It was only for a second, but it had to be enough to be detected by the passing drone.

Everyone on the bridge held themselves perfectly still as they waited to see what would happen. Seconds ticked by, but the drone didn’t respond. A full thirty seconds passed before anything happened. But then, the drone started to move. Using its own maneuvering thrusters, it reorientated itself and directed its active sensors directly towards the PD drone’s location.

“Get the PD drone back,” Jonathan snapped. “Then get us out of here, we’ve been spotted now.”

“Eaglatons are altering course,” Artex called out. “They’re heading straight for us.”

As quickly as they could, Kestrel, Scimitar, and Hound powered their reactors up to full and then accelerated hard away from the system’s fifth planet. The Eaglatons altered course to intercept. Jonathan continued on the same course for fifteen minutes until it was crystal clear his ships weren’t going to escape. “Open a COM channel to Hound,” he requested.

“You’re still sure you want to do this, Somerville?” Montgomery asked when they could see one another.

Jonathan nodded. “I’m not backing down now. We’ll see you back at Farvul’vian.”

“All right then, good luck, Captain,” Montgomery said as he gave Jonathan a salute.

Jonathan lifted his hand as well, then tapped his console to end the COM channel. “Signal Scimitar, we are turning to heading seven three two point one. Scholes, make it so.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes said from his navigation console.

Now, Jonathan thought towards the enemy commander. Don’t let me down. On the holo display, Jonathan stared intently at the three enemy ships. He hadn’t shared this with anyone yet, but his plan was resting on one additional hunch he had. He knew that if he shared it, it would sound very rash. Especially as he was risking two Imperial warships and nearly a thousand navy personnel on it. But he was sure of his hunch.

Despite his confidence, nothing happened at first. Or rather, the Eaglatons didn’t take the bait. Instead of altering course to better engage Jonathan’s ships, they continued on as if they thought they could still intercept Hound. In a sense, they could. If they wanted, the Eaglatons could blast past Kestrel and Scimitar and continue on their intercept course. Yet, doing so would allow Jonathan and Nash to bring their ships into energy weapon range and rake all three Eaglaton ships. If they did that, there was a good chance they would do enough damage to prevent the Eaglatons from being able to maintain their high acceleration rates.

But they would also be able to ravage us in return, Jonathan thought. There was no way Kestrel and Scimitar could survive that. And there was a chance at least one of the Eaglatons could still catch Hound. Come on, you’re bluffing, Jonathan thought towards the enemy commander, as much out of hope as certainty. An energy weapon duel was a risky affair, Kestrel could just as easily blow up all three enemy ships as they could her. One plasma bolt or laser beam to a critical component, and a cascading overload would be the end of the Eaglaton medium cruiser.

Yet for another five minutes, the enemy ships didn’t move. Jonathan felt his heart rate increase and sweat began to form on his forehead. If the enemy didn’t turn, he was going to have to, for he couldn’t risk a close-range energy duel. Yet turning would all but guarantee Hound would be caught. Jonathan swallowed hard. His desire to bring the Eaglatons to battle might just have trapped his three ships!

He opened his mouth to give the order to turn, but then shut it again. Just another minute, he told himself. When that minute was up, he almost gave the order again but held back. They have to be bluffing, he told himself. They have to be. Jonathan didn’t get to finish his thought.

“They’re turning!” Lydia called out, her voice full of relief. “And look, they’re splitting up.”

A grin spread across Jonathan’s face. Both his predictions were coming true, if a little later than he had expected. The Eaglaton cruiser and one of their frigates were turning to engage Kestrel and Scimitar at long range. The second frigate was carrying out an even sharper turn. It was settling onto a course back towards the shift passage it had come from.

Jonathan couldn’t help his grin turning into a sigh of relief. This was what he had hoped for all along. Having given up on catching Hound, the enemy commander now felt he had to send his own contact report back to his superiors. His ships had been discovered, and word was now on its way to Admiral Becket; whoever commanded the Eaglaton fleet would no doubt want such information sent to him immediately.

Jonathan couldn’t help turning to Cortez and winking. “See, I told you it would be a fair fight.”

Cortez shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly have known.”

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders. “Call it a Captain’s intuition, or a lucky guess, if you prefer. He can’t take the risk we’d destroy all three of his ships, and then his Admiral would never know of this battle or that we spotted them.” Cortez shook her head again, but didn’t reply.

Jonathan got serious again and began to give out orders, for now he had a battle to fight. The Eaglatons’ actions had made the battle winnable, but he and his crew had to do the rest. “Begin our first course change,” Jonathan ordered. “And launch recon drones to get a better fix on them.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scholes and then Lydia said one after the other.

Jonathan watched Scholes carry out the maneuver, and then turned his attention to the two enemy ships. Kestrel’s maneuver was meant to look like an attempt to draw the Eaglaton warships further away from Hound. If the enemy commander reacted as he hoped, then they would begin their second prearranged course change in three minutes. If not, then he’d have to begin to make it up on the spot.

Dancing around an enemy ship or fleet in an effort to lead it into a disadvantaged position was something Jonathan had seen Becket do several times now. It was also something he knew his father was an expert at. He had already planned how he wanted things to play out, but if the Eaglaton commander didn’t play ball, Jonathan wasn’t so confident he could match their skills. Well, he thought to himself as the holo display updated, it looks like you’re about to find out.

The Eaglaton ships had begun to move, but not exactly how Jonathan had predicted. He had expected the enemy to match his maneuver so as to be able to continue to close to extreme missile range. Instead, the Eaglatons were trying to get up enough momentum to be able to close in and use their shorter-range missiles. You’ve got this, Jonathan told himself. They want to close; you can use that.

For the next forty-five minutes, a game of 3D chess developed as Jonathan moved his ships one way and another. In an effort to make it look like he was trying to avoid a close-range missile duel, he kept turning to keep the Eaglatons at bay. It was a fine balancing act, for he also had to keep Kestrel and Scimitar between the Eaglatons and Hound, less the Eaglatons try to charge past him. All the while, he was really trying to line up his ships and the Eaglatons along the vector his plan needed. To make it more difficult, as both groups of ships closed with one another, his window of opportunity kept shrinking and shrinking.

Sweat formed on Jonathan’s brow again as he stared at the holo display, his whole body tensed. At last, he saw the final opening he had been waiting for. “Quickly, bring us onto heading two, four, one point five. Ninety percent thrust!” he ordered.

As Kestrel and Scimitar turned and accelerated, there was only one move the Eaglatons could make to continue to try to close. Jonathan smiled when they made it. He had them. Soon, they would be right where he wanted. “That’s it!” he said to his officers. “In four minutes, we’ll reach point Alpha. As soon as we do, we’ll execute our turn and charge.”

“Our missiles are all ready, Captain,” Artex reported.

“Good, keep firing our modified missiles unless I give the order,” Jonathan said. “You focus on scoring hits; Lydia and I will analyze their effectiveness.”

“Understood, Captain,” Artex replied. Lydia nodded when Jonathan looked at her.

Jonathan couldn’t help but glance at the system’s pulsar star. Not really a star at all, but a dead neutron star, it was still flinging copious amounts of electromagnetic energy out into space. Like an ancient lighthouse, every time it spun to face Kestrel, it spewed out unmeasurable amounts of radio waves. Except this lighthouse spun at a rate of two hundred revolutions a second. The result was that if Kestrel’s sensors looked directly at the pulsar, they were flashed two hundred times a second with enough radio wave of electromagnetic energy to stifle them.

When looking anywhere else in the system, that wasn’t a problem. In fact, the radio waves bouncing off every other planetary body made them far easier to see. However, looking at a target right in line with the pulsar would be another matter. At least, Jonathan was betting the lives of the crews of his two ships on it.

“Altering course now, Captain,” Scholes reported. “Going to one hundred percent.”

“Launching PD drones,” Harte added.

Just as they crossed in front of the pulsar, together Kestrel and Scimitar turned towards the Eaglaton ships. As their engines went to their safe maximum, the holo display altered to show the Eaglatons could open fire in two minutes and Kestrel in three. Jonathan’s body tensed again. It wouldn’t take the Eaglaton commander long to figure out what he was trying to do.

Sure enough, within thirty seconds, the Eaglaton ships tried to turn to get an angle on Kestrel that didn’t have them looking directly at the pulsar. “Put us onto heading three, three, nine point six,” Jonathan ordered at once. Matching the Eaglaton ships, Jonathan kept Kestrel and Scimitar right in line with the pulsar. Again, the Eaglatons altered course and again, Jonathan did the same.

As both groups of ships closed, Jonathan matched the Eaglatons move for move. He was so focused, the sudden appearance of twenty-two new contacts startled him. The Eaglatons had come close enough to open fire.

“Tracking their missiles,” Artex reported. “We’re getting good returns from all the radio waves bouncing off them… Firing our own missiles,” she added a minute later.

As twenty mark VII missiles shot off towards their targets, Jonathan watched them go for several seconds, and then returned his attention to the incoming enemy missiles. Nervously, he waited to see how they would attack his ships. As soon as they could, Kestrel, Scimitar, and four of Harte’s PD drones started firing their defensive weapons. The Eaglaton missiles had already started evasive maneuvers. Detecting the incoming fire, their ECM also powered up.

Jonathan turned to Cortez and Lydia. Like him, they were grinning. The enemy missiles were using their standard ECM. Though it was effective, with so many radio waves bouncing off them from the pulsar star, and more wide spectrum electromagnetic energy from Kestrel and Scimitar’s sensors, they were relatively easy to track.

As a result, defensive fire was able to shoot down nineteen of them before the last three detonated. Funneling their power into focusing crystals, three grazer beams reached out towards Jonathan’s two ships. Evasive maneuvers caused two to miss. The third struck a glancing blow along Kestrel’s port side. The cruiser’s shield flared as the energy from the beam struck the tightly condensed magnetic particles and burnt many of them away. Yet the magnetic fields holding the shield in place forced many additional particles into the gash, even as millions were burnt off. The shield held, and not even a joule of energy reached Kestrel’s hull.

At once, everyone turned their attention to the Eaglaton warships. They were just seconds away from being able to engage Jonathan’s missiles. “Engaging the drones now,” Harte announced without waiting for permission.

As in every battle, the Eaglatons had an array of recon drones out in space to aid in tracking the incoming missiles. In this case, however, the Eaglatons had pushed their drones far away from their two ships to better compensate for the pulsar’s interference. They were far enough away that the four PD drones Harte had launched earlier had been able to stealthily cruise up towards them. As soon as Harte activated them, the PD drones used their anti-missile lasers to engage every Eaglaton recon drone in sight. In two seconds, fifteen Eaglaton drones were shot down. To their credit, the Eaglatons reacted quickly and pulled their other drones in closer to their ships to where Harte couldn’t send his PD drones without them being shot down by the Eaglaton’s laser weapons. Yet the damage had been done; more than two-thirds of their drones were gone, and those that remained were now also looking right at the pulsar star as they tried to track the incoming missiles.

As the Eaglatons opened fire with their defensive weapons, the mark VII missiles revealed Jonathan’s final trick. When their ECM came online, they didn’t focus on overwhelming the enemy’s sensors, nor on creating false images of additional missiles. Instead, they began to flash out their own radio wave electromagnetic energy. The flashes were exactly in tune with the flashes from the pulsar star. Two hundred times a second, or for roughly a third of every second, the missiles disappeared on the Eaglaton’s sensors.

The precision needed to track, target, and hit an evasively maneuvering missile moving at velocities upwards of 0.6c was extreme. Add in the fact the weapon being fired was a laser cannon itself mounted on a ship moving at high velocities, often carrying out its own evasive maneuvers was way beyond what the Human mind could comprehend. The Eaglaton’s ships AI, used to being able to watch enemy missiles all the way as they tried to close in for a kill, were completely thrown off. Eaglaton gunners, realizing what was happening, tried to re-task their targeting software or order their guns to only fire for the two-thirds of every second the enemy missiles were visible. Their efforts were partially successful, but by the time they began to work, the mark VII’s had already gotten far too close to their targets.

Five of the antimatter warheads made it all the way into attack range. Every single one of them was targeting the Eaglaton frigate. With the chance that he would only get one real use of his trick, Jonathan wanted to do as much damage as he could. He got his wish. Evasive maneuvers allowed the frigate to dodge two of the missiles, but the other three all slammed into it. Each one punched through armor, hull and at least one bulkhead before exploding. As soon as the first antimatter particles collided with elements of the frigate, it disappeared in one blinding flash.

Chapter 33

As I have conveyed to my students on many an occasion, one of our greatest Admirals once said, ‘if all else fails, an Imperial Captain can do little wrong if he lays his ship alongside that of the enemy and fights to the bitter end.’

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

The enemy frigate’s demise caused cheers to erupt around Jonathan, and he punched a fist into the air. His tactic had worked brilliantly. And we’re not done yet! He told himself. Already, Artex had another salvo well on its way towards the Eaglaton cruiser. At the same time, another full enemy salvo, fired before the frigate had been destroyed, was closing in on his ships.

“I think they are copying us, Captain,” Artex called out. “All their missiles look to be targeting Scimitar.”

Jonathan cursed. “Move us to cover her. Harte, can you get any PD drones over to help out?”

Harte shook his head. “Sorry, Captain, moving them now will throw off their overlapping fields of fire. They will be able to get shots off as the enemy missiles pass though.”

“Make them count,” Jonathan ordered.

“The cruiser is changing course as well, Captain, they’re moving to close with us,” Lydia updated.

“They want to use their close-in missiles,” Jonathan was sure. Now that the Eaglaton was outnumbered, he needed to use his best weapons. “Put us onto a heading of five, five, three point seven,” he ordered. He couldn’t keep the enemy cruiser away for long, but that would give him another opportunity for a long-range salvo to get in some more damage.

Four Eaglaton missiles from their second salvo got close enough to detonate and release their grazer beams. Scimitar dodged two, but two scored hits. Her shields flared, and then one beam punched through. It burnt through her valstronium armor, and then ripped a gash along Scimitar’s nose. A small explosion was followed by a cloud of debris and atmosphere. Scimitar carried on, however, without suffering any more damage.

“Scimitar reports seven dead and more injured,” Lieutenant Abrahams reported from his COM console when he received an update. “They have lost one missile tube and a lot of forward point defenses, but they are still in the fight.”

“Then let’s keep hammering them,” Jonathan responded. “We’ve got the advantage, let’s make it count.”

As his next salvo came in, right away, Jonathan could tell the Eaglatons had begun to adapt to his trick. Though it was now on its own, the Eaglaton cruiser shot down all but two of his missiles. One detonated, but missed entirely. The second managed to score a proximity hit. The antimatter washed over a section of the cruiser’s hull eating away at it. Yet, as the cruiser flew through it, it came out looking largely unscathed.

“Lydia?” Jonathan asked as he turned to his Second Lieutenant.

“I think they have figured it out, Captain. I’d recommend we switch to normal missiles,” she replied.

“Lieutenant Artex, do it,” Jonathan ordered.

Sadly, Artex already had her third salvo closing in on the Eaglaton cruiser. Also a problem, it would take longer to load normal missiles for the next salvo as Kestrel’s missile crews had no doubt already begun preparing for a fourth salvo of the altered warheads. It was a price Jonathan had to pay for the trick that allowed them to take out the enemy frigate so soon in the battle.

Paying it however, proved far more costly than Jonathan had imagined. As they came in, both of the Eaglaton cruiser’s next salvos managed to score hits on Scimitar. Just one missile from the first struck Scimitar’s shields, but the strength of the grazer beam was enough to batter them down. Then, in the follow-up salvo, two more grazer beams ripped into the small frigate. They struck so close together that Scimitar was almost cut in half. So many power relays and conduits were destroyed that the forward half of the frigate went completely dark. Two of her four engines also cut out, and with half her maneuvering thrusters not responding, Scimitar began to fall out of formation, slowly tilting end over end.

“Get our rescue shuttles over to her at once!” Jonathan ordered in horror. “They are to bring repair crews over and then help with the evacuation. If she is unstable, she could still break apart or have some vital system overload.”

“I’m on it, Captain,” Cortez said in a deadly serious tone.

Though he wanted to help more, Jonathan forced himself to focus on the fight. He could only come to Scimitar’s aid once the Eagleton cruiser was destroyed. If you can destroy it, Jonathan warned himself. Now the odds were far more even again. Though both cruisers were partially damaged, the Eaglaton now outnumbered him when it came to missile numbers and half of Harte’s PD drones were still racing back to join their comrades in defending Kestrel.

His ships’ one saving grace was that two full salvos from Kestrel and Scimitar were still racing towards the Eagleton cruiser. They both crashed into the enemy ship while one Eaglaton salvo hit Kestrel. Both ships took damage in the exchange. Kestrel’s shields absorbed most of the energy from two hits. A small amount seeped through to hit her hull, but her valstronium armor deflected it. Though not before several sensor nodes were destroyed. The Eaglaton cruiser suffered a proximity hit from each salvo. Both hits burnt away armor and point defense weapons, and when the cruiser fired again after the second salvo, it revealed it had lost a missile tube too.

As both ships came into reach with their close-range missiles, the fight was all but equal. The Eaglaton was now putting out salvos of seventeen missiles, while Kestrel was still firing fourteen. Over the course of the next three salvos, however, both ships started to inflict more damage.

The Imperial mark VIII missiles were able to attack from a much greater distance. After only flying through thirty seconds of enemy point defense fire, they detonated and released three laser beams each. The beams covered the remaining distance to the Eaglaton cruiser in the blink of an eye. Just one beam from the first salvo struck her. But two in the second and third salvos managed to strike at the enemy ship. Each time a beam connected with the Eaglaton’s armor, it caused an explosion that ripped apart sensor nodes and point defense weapons.

The Eaglaton close-range missiles didn’t pack quite the same punch. What they lacked in destructive power, they more than made up for with numbers. Just before reaching the point where Kestrel’s defenses could open up on them, the Eaglaton multistage missiles released ten small warheads. Suddenly facing one hundred and seventy contacts they had to shoot down, Kestrel’s point defense guns and Harte’s PD drones were overwhelmed. Four missiles hit Kestrel from the first salvo. None broke through her armor, but all caused damage.

“Push your drones ahead of us,” Jonathan ordered Harte. “See if you can take any out before they release their warheads.”

Detaching the drones closing with them, the next two salvos simply released their warheads earlier. Doing so did give Harte’s drones more time to negate them, but even so, two missiles struck Kestrel in the next salvo and three in the one after that.

“We’ve got a hull breach,” Cortez shouted as Jonathan was shaken around in his command chair. “Venting atmosphere from decks three and four, port side. Emergency bulkheads are sealing, repair crews on the way to check the damage.”

“Port missile tube six is not responding,” Artex reported. “I think it is gone, Captain!”

Jonathan assessed all the information coming to him. In the back of his mind, he knew surrendering was an option. He would do it if he had no other choice. He wasn’t going to throw away the lives of his crew for nothing. But we’re not there yet! he told himself. “Keep fighting!” he ordered. “Turn the ship to bring our starboard missiles to bear.”

Turning meant another delay in firing their next salvo, but it would allow him to fire a full salvo. Just as importantly, they’d be able to bring more defensive weapons to bear, for many of the port side ones had been destroyed. As Kestrel began to move, Jonathan saw the Eaglaton cruiser start to do the same just seconds later. The Eaglatons were using the lull in fighting to do the same!

At almost the exact same time, both cruisers fired at one another again. Eighteen Eaglaton missiles and fourteen Imperial ones charged towards their targets. Before they reached attack range, both ships fired again, seconds apart once more. They are as good as us, Jonathan had to admit to himself. As good as his crew were, the Eaglatons were reloading and firing just as quickly. And we are both good, he knew, for despite all the damage both ships had suffered, both crews were still firing salvos less than five minutes apart. That meant only one thing, the battle had turned into a slug fest. Both ships could do nothing else now but keep battering at each other, hoping the other would break first.

As the fresh missile salvos slammed into each ship, Jonathan gripped his command chair once more. Three missiles were able to detonate less than a hundred meters from Kestrel’s hull. Each shockwave shunted him into the side of his chair as they struck his cruiser.

“No hull breaches,” Cortez reported, “but we’ve lost more sensors and PD cannons.”

“But we hit them too,” Lydia called out. “One beam has ripped a new gash along their nose. They have to have lost defenses as well.”

“See if we can get any of our last sensors replaced,” Jonathan ordered. “And divert any free crew that can no longer use their systems to our missile teams. Whoever can keep up the better rate of fire is going to win this.”

“Next salvo is releasing their warheads,” Artex reported moments later as the next eighteen contacts suddenly became one hundred and eighty.

“I think some of their small warheads are targeting my drones!” Harte called out in concern as the next salvo closed with Kestrel. “These fifty here,” he added as he highlighted a group of warheads that had just been released by five enemy missiles.

“I can confirm,” Lydia reported. “They don’t appear to be tracking us.”

“You know what to do,” Jonathan told Harte, “you’ve practiced it often enough.”

Though no Protectorate ship had yet tried to shoot down Kestrel’s PD drones, their designers had anticipated someone would, sooner or later. With the PD drones pushed out ahead of Kestrel, it was easy to spot the missiles angling for them. Ignoring them, the PD drones instead coordinated their fire on the rest of the Eaglaton warheads that were still targeting Kestrel. They blew apart forty of the small missiles.

Then, when the other fifty missiles were just seconds away from hitting them, Harte sent his signal. As soon as they detected it, the PD drones ceased firing. All the energy from their small reactors was then directed into their small capacitors. For three seconds, they charged, then the capacitors dumped the energy into the drones’ ECM emitters. Suddenly, ten fake drones appeared around each real one. At the same time, their reactors went into idle and the drones became as stealthy as they could.

In the blink of an eye, the fifty Eaglaton warheads found themselves facing fifty targets. With less than two seconds to lock on to something before they flew past the drones, they tried to assess the contacts most likely to be drones, and then smashed into them. Only two Eaglaton warheads made correct guesses, and blew apart two of Harte’s beloved drones. The other forty-eight hit objects that weren’t there.

Their misses were Kestrel’s gain, for her gunners just had to engage seventy of the enemy cruiser’s warheads. To Jonathan’s relief, they shot down all but three of them. And a skillful, last second evasive maneuver from Scholes dodged their attack, too.

The Eaglaton cruiser was not so lucky. On the holo display, it flashed as another laser beam struck its hull, burning away armor and tearing a deep gash into its innards. “They’ll not be trying that again any time soon!” Jonathan said triumphantly. “Now let’s hit them again!”

“Hound has just jumped out,” Lydia reported.

“Then we’ve done half our job,” Jonathan replied for all his officers to hear. “Now to finish the second half.”

“Captain, I have an idea,” Artex said from her console.

“Let’s hear it quickly,” Jonathan replied, not wanting his tactical officer to be distracted from her main job of defending Kestrel.

“We still have a salvo of our altered missiles left in the missile loading bays,” Artex informed him. “Is it worth adding two of them into each of our next salvos? It would speed up our reloading and having a mixture of missiles may cause more confusion for the Eaglatons.”

Jonathan glanced at Cortez. His First Lieutenant nodded. There wasn’t time to simulate Artex’s idea, but both of their guts said go for it. “Alright, it’s worth trying, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said as he spun back to Artex. Artex gave the order, and a few short minutes later, the mixed salvo was hurled out into space.

Before they could see the impact of Artex’s idea, Kestrel had to face another enemy salvo. This time, the missiles ignored Harte’s remaining PD drones. Though it allowed Harte to shoot down more of the incoming warheads, Kestrel still faced a greater threat. Despite the gunners’ best efforts and Scholes’ expert flying, two warheads smashed into Jonathan’s command.

One shockwave felt close to the bridge and shook things about so much that the lights flashed out and then back on. “That was a hull breach,” Cortez confirmed moments later. “Multiple sections are venting atmosphere. No critical systems hit.”

Jonathan grimaced. His ship was being torn apart, piece by piece. Yet there was nothing he could do about it. His only solace was the Eaglaton cruiser was suffering just as badly. On the holo display, another heat bloom had appeared near its stern where a laser had grazed it. With both ships keeping up a constant rate of fire, it was being hit at almost the same time Kestrel was.

“Our next salvo approaches them,” Artex called out, a hint of excitement in her voice, despite the danger they were all in. Her two modified missiles were about to try and confuse the Eaglatons.

With both ships still firing at the same time, Artex didn’t get to watch her missiles hit home in real time, however, for she had to direct Kestrel’s defensive fire. Jonathan grabbed his command chair tightly again as the number of enemy missiles counted down far too quickly on the holo display. Three got close enough to try and strike Kestrel. Two missed, but the third scored another proximity hit. More armor, sensor nodes and defensive weapons were blasted from Kestrel’s hull.

Most of the bridge officers’ eyes turned to a secondary holo display that started to show a recording of the Eaglaton cruiser. It desperately tried to shoot down the missiles from Kestrel’s last salvo. There were cheers when two missiles got close enough to detonate and sent six laser beams piercing towards the enemy ship. Already carrying out a wild evasive maneuver, four shot wide of the Eaglaton warship. The two that hit, however, ravaged the cruiser’s nose. Twin explosions ejected armor fragments, hull sections, and melted weapon components into space.

For a second, Jonathan thought the cruiser was about to suffer a series of secondary explosions. Yet it simply flew through the cloud of its own debris and resolutely continued its chase of Kestrel. Jonathan shook his head. The war had already shown the Protectorates built their ships to be extremely sturdy. They were able to take antimatter missiles and still keep fighting. Yet the Eaglaton cruiser seemed to be taking that to a new level. Time and time again, it was suffering penetrating laser beam hits, and yet, its main systems all seemed to be still holding together. There were at least two gashes along its port amidships several decks deep Jonathan could see on the holo display. Yet they had stopped venting atmosphere and debris, and the cruiser was fighting on like they weren’t even there.

“One of those missiles that got a hit was one of our modified ones,” Lydia reported. “The other was destroyed. That’s a fifty percent success rate. I’d say we try again, Captain.”

“I concur,” Jonathan replied. “Let’s see if you can do it again, Artex.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Artex replied.

“How are we holding up?” Jonathan asked as he turned to Cortez.

“We’re still in this fight,” she responded. “But just barely. We’ve lost eighteen percent of our starboard point defenses now. Twenty-two confirmed deaths already, and there are still damaged sections our rescue teams haven’t been able to reach. Repair teams have almost got our shield ready to recharge. We’ll only get about twenty percent effectiveness. But it is better than nothing.”

Jonathan forced himself to put the deaths from his mind. He couldn’t afford to grieve them yet. “How long until you get the shield up?” He asked as he glanced at the holo display. The next enemy salvo was just two and half minutes away.

“Two minutes, maybe,” Cortez replied. “I can’t make any promises.”

“You can do it,” Jonathan assured her as he nodded for her to get back to supervising her repair teams.

As the next enemy salvo grew closer and closer, Jonathan couldn’t stop himself from nervously tapping his command chair. Kestrel’s damage was getting critical now. One lucky shot or a couple of good hits that took out more point defenses, and she wouldn’t have the ability to fend off enough Eaglaton missiles. Then it would only take the Eaglaton warship one or two salvos to finish his ship. But they have to be in the same boat, he told himself. For as bad as the images of Kestrel the PD drones were sending back were, the Eaglaton cruiser looked worse.

“We have it!” Cortez shouted just seconds before Artex opened up on the incoming missiles with her point defenses. “Shield is up. Twenty-three percent strength.”

“Well done,” Jonathan said as he cracked a smile.

Their triumph didn’t last long, however. For just thirty seconds later, five Eaglaton missiles crashed into the shield. The first three tore it down again, leaving two to strike at Kestrel. One scored a proximity hit whilst the other smashed right into Kestrel’s valstronium armor. The explosion shook everyone on board as the destructive force melted enough armor to breach Kestrel’s hull for a third time.

“Missile tube four is not responding,” Cortez said ominously. “More sensors and PD weapons are gone too.”

“Chief Higgins reports Reactor Two is playing up, Captain,” Lieutenant Abrahams relayed. “He says he’s going to have to cut it down to seventy percent output.”

Jonathan couldn’t hide his dismay. Less reactor energy meant less power to all of Kestrel’s critical systems. Cortez’s shield had almost certainly saved them from suffering far more critical damage. But now, there was no way she could recharge it again. Scholes would also have to limit his evasive maneuvers.

In desperation, he turned to one of the secondary holo displays. The Eaglaton cruiser had been hit again. This time, only one missile made it close enough to detonate. One of its three beams had scored another hit, though. Yet once again the enemy ship continued its pursuit. Jonathan almost laughed at how unfair it seemed. Against any other ship he had fought, whether a Flex-aor or Protectorate cruiser, the number of hits he had scored would have already won him the battle.

“That hit was from another one of our modified missiles,” Artex reported, her voice was still full of hope. “They seem to be struggling with our modified missiles when they have to focus on normal ones as well. Should we try three in the next salvo?”

Jonathan grabbed onto his Lieutenant’s optimism. The enemy ship couldn’t hold together forever. “Do it,” he ordered. Come on, he thought as thirteen missiles were catapulted out of Kestrel’s tubes. We need this.

With both ships getting closer and closer to one another, it didn’t take long for Artex’s next salvo to cover the distance to the Eaglaton warship. No one on Kestrel’s bridge watched the missiles crash home however, for they were all focused on defending their own ship.

With no shield and more defensive weapons gone, Jonathan was on the edge of his seat. His heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his mouth. He couldn’t consciously say why, but his whole body felt like this was it. As flak cannon rounds, arc pulses, AM missiles, plasma bolts, and laser beams all tried to swat away the enemy missiles, the number of contacts racing towards Kestrel diminished slower than ever. Eight dodged everything thrown at them.

“Carrying out evasive maneuvers,” Scholes shouted, his voice breaking.

Jonathan’s restraints instantly tightened around him as Scholes threw the cruiser into a corkscrew. Just a couple of heartbeats later, they tightened further as a shockwave jostled him. Before he even registered Kestrel had been hit, more shockwaves threw him one way and then another. There were too many for Jonathan to count. All he knew was his ship had just taken a beating.

His fears were confirmed when a number of screens and consoles around him failed. At the same time others began to scream alarms as damage reports came in from all over the ship. The lights went out a second later and didn’t flick back on. Instead, emergency lights replaced them.

Jonathan’s eyes flashed around the bridge, fearing some of his officers could have been hurt or killed. Even with his augments, his whole body ached from the force it had been thrown around with. Several officers were indeed slumped over their consoles. Jonathan hoped they were unconscious rather than dead. To his relief, Cortez and Lydia were both still upright. Though they looked dazed. “We need a systems check!” Jonathan shouted over the noise to get their attention. He waved his arms as well. “And we need power back to the bridge at once. Lieutenants, focus!”

Cortez shook her head as if to drive away some brain fog. Then she locked eyes with Jonathan and nodded. Lydia did the same a second later. “And send out a request for a medical team,” he added as he glanced back at Abrahams and Scholes, both of whom hadn’t regained consciousness yet.

Tapping on his own console, Jonathan was relieved to see it still had power. First, he tried to divert control of Kestrel’s flight operations to it to take over for Scholes. He cursed when there was no response. Then he tried to establish a COM channel with Chief Higgins. Either Higgins was busy, or the request didn’t go through, for there was no response. In desperation, he tried to access Kestrel’s external COM array. If his ship was too badly damaged, he’d have no choice but to surrender. When no reply came back from either the primary or secondary arrays, Jonathan went white. Either they had been destroyed, or the power and communication lines to them were cut. They couldn’t even surrender!

His fear building, Jonathan looked at the chronometer on his wrist. At least two minutes had passed since the first missile had hit. He was starting to fear Kestrel was dead in the water. If the reactors were down, then her maneuvering thrusters and defensive weapons would only be working off their capacitors. At best, they’d only be able to achieve forty percent efficiency, and the next enemy salvo couldn’t be more than three minutes away.

The three minutes passed far too quickly. Between them, Jonathan, Cortez and Lydia were able to restore power to several consoles and make contact with most of their repair teams. What they found tightened Jonathan’s stomach into knots. Kestrel had been hit at least five times. Power had been lost to two of her port missile tubes, and nearly a third of her point defenses had been destroyed. Worse, no matter what they tried, they couldn’t get a live feed from any of Kestrel’s sensors nor get the external COM arrays working.

Blind, and with time running out, the three of them looked at one another, fear written across all their faces. Jonathan’s whole body tensed again as he glanced at his chronometer. The next enemy salvo would be striking them within seconds. He had no idea if his gunners were shooting at them, or if they too were blind. Nor did he even know how many gunners had power to their weapons. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable shockwaves and explosions that would signal the death of his ship and all its crew. His mind went to his parents. His heart ached at the pain he was about to put them through. Losing two children would break them. I’m sorry, he thought towards them and his crew. He had thought he could win, and he had failed. I’m sorry.

Chapter 34

There were several times I thought my life over when the Ca’casiadans began their invasion. Their fleets ripped through our southern border worlds like a hurricane. As if from nowhere, the most powerful enemy we have yet faced arrived on our doorsteps, arrayed for war while we had been sleeping at our stations. I was as much at fault as anyone, despite the many lessons from history I claimed to have learned.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

A second passed and nothing happened, except, Jonathan’s body tensed even more. That second turned into two however, then three. Quickly, Jonathan’s lungs began to burn as he held his breath. More seconds passed, but the explosions and shockwaves didn’t come.

Jonathan opened his eyes. He looked at his chronometer. The enemy missile should have struck them twenty seconds ago! Maybe our salvo damaged them? He thought to himself. If so, they could have been delayed firing their next salvo. There may still be a chance! “They didn’t fire a salvo!” Jonathan shouted to Cortez and Lydia. “We keep working. I don’t know how long we have.”

Desperately, Jonathan threw himself back into trying to get data from Kestrel’s sensors and to regain control of her maneuvering thrusters. “I have a COM channel to Higgins open,” Cortez reported. She didn’t sound happy. “It’s not good news. All four reactors have gone into emergency shut down.”

Jonathan grimaced. He had been right; Kestrel was a sitting duck! “We should still have enough power in our capacitors for our maneuvering thrusters. We need to get as many point defenses working again as possible.”

“Captain,” Harte shouted, trying to interrupt Jonathan.

Jonathan heard him but didn’t stop his own orders. “And Lieutenant Artex, we need another salvo of our own. If we don’t kill them, they will kill us sooner rather than later.”

“Captain,” Harte shouted again. “I have managed to get a live feed from one of my drones.”

Jonathan’s head snapped to Harte. “Excellent work, Lieutenant. Let’s see it.”

“I can only get it to my console,” Harte replied.

Despite the danger, Jonathan undid his harness and rushed to Harte’s side. Cortez and Lydia were right behind him. “Look,” Hart said. “There is where she was.”

Jonathan gasped when all he could see was a large expanding sphere of debris. There were several sizable chunks of hull fragments that looked like they could be part of the Eaglaton cruiser, but none were much larger than a starfighter. Instantly, he was suspicious. If the Eaglatons knew how damaged Kestrel was, they could be faking their death. But why? Jonathan asked himself. They could just destroy us at a moment’s notice.

“Replay the image,” Jonathan demanded. “Put it back to when they were hit.”

Quickly, the visuals rewound to show the Eagleton cruiser. It was engaging Artex’s last missile salvo. Her three modified missiles were marked by the drone. One was blown apart by a laser beam. The other two however, managed to evade everything fired at them. Whilst every other missile was shot down, they got close enough to detonate. Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched four of their six laser beams strike the cruiser. Three hit in almost the same spot. Crucially, right where a previous strike had already peeled back the cruiser’s armor. He couldn’t tell if all three, or just one or two of them did it, but at least one beam burned right through the cruiser and appeared out the other side. A second later, the cruiser vanished as a giant explosion ripped it apart from within and shredded it into the ball of debris Harte had already shown them.

In disbelief, Jonathan took a few steps back from the console. He had thought certain death had been about to greet them. Suddenly, his whole body began to shake as adrenaline started leaving his system. Beside him, Cortez and Lydia looked just as drained. Jonathan allowed himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t help shaking his head, still amazed that they had done it.

However, his mind quickly went to his ship, and then to Scimitar and Captain Nash. The frigate had been crippled, but not completely destroyed. If any of her crew were still alive, he needed to save them. And we will have trapped and wounded crew members as well, he thought. “This isn’t over yet,” he said as he placed a hand on Cortez’s and Lydia’s shoulders. “We have work to do. Everyone is counting on us. Let’s get to it.” Gently, he pushed each of them back towards their command chairs.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Cortez said wearily whilst Lydia nodded her head ever so slightly.

The first thing Jonathan did was move over to the medics seeing to Scholes and Abrahams. “How are they?”

“Lieutenant Scholes has a bad knock to his head,” one medic replied. “I’m going to arrange for him to be taken to sick bay.”

“Abrahams looks like he has cracked a few ribs,” the other medic informed Jonathan. “I was just about to give him something to bring him around and help with the pain. He should be able to stay on duty if he is needed.”

“He will be,” Jonathan replied. “But make sure he is okay to stay before you leave him.” Without waiting for a reply, he moved back to his command chair and strapped himself in. “All right, let’s get to work,” he said to the officers he still had at their posts. “I’ll oversee the rescue operations,” he decided, knowing that Cortez knew Kestrel’s damage repair procedures better than him. “Lydia, assist Cortez with Kestrel. Focus on our injured, and then our engines.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lydia said.

As he got to work, the first problem Jonathan encountered was that one of Kestrel’s three main hangar bays was badly damaged. Borrowing a repair team from Cortez, he told them to work getting the hangar deck cleared and external doors operating again. Then the other two hangar bays needed clearing as well, and the shuttles had to go through a number of safety checks after being shaken about so roughly.

As that work got underway, Lieutenant Abrahams reported he was ready to do whatever Jonathan needed. Immediately, Jonathan tasked him with making contact with Scimitar and the rescue shuttles Kestrel had launched at the beginning of the battle. With Kestrel’s external COM systems still inoperable, Abrahams used his short-range communicators to try and raise them. Eventually, he got through, and rescue shuttles and escape pods started making their way towards Kestrel.

Jonathan prioritized one of his hangar bays for receiving rescued personnel whilst the other launched fresh shuttles to land SAR teams on Scimitar’s hulk. Quickly, he learned that most of Scimitar’s crew had gotten off. In no time at all, the hangar bay they were landing in and the corridors around it began to flood with survivors. He encountered two new problems as he had to organize medical teams to triage the injured and prioritize those who needed to go to sick bay the most. He then also had to find room for the survivors. Given how much damage Kestrel had taken and how many of her decks were open to space, he began to worry he wouldn’t have the space to fit them all in comfortably.

To Jonathan’s dismay, Captain Nash was not counted among any that were on the shuttles and escape pods that were towed to Kestrel. An hour later however, and he punched his fist in the air when news came back from one of the rescue shuttles. A search and rescue team had managed to make it to Scimitar’s bridge. Nash and three other officers had been found injured, but alive.

Confident that rescue operations were in good hands and drawing to a close, Jonathan left Kestrel’s bridge to meet Nash at the hangar bay when the shuttle bringing him over landed. The frigate Captain had a bruise covering half his left cheek, and as he walked down the shuttle’s ramp, he had to stop to catch his balance, but otherwise, Jonathan was relieved to see he looked all right. Stepping forward, Jonathan held out his hand to help steady his friend.

“I’m so sorry for Scimitar,” Jonathan said. “But, we have at least eighty percent of your crew. And we won!”

Nash nodded, and even smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “That we did, Captain, that we did.”

“I know from experience; nothing will make up for losing your ship. But it gets easier with time,” Jonathan assured his friend. “Now, come on, let me take you to your people, I’m sure you want to see them all.”

*

Three hours after the battle, Jonathan gathered his senior officers and Captain Nash into his briefing room. Everyone now had a chance to get to grips with just how badly damaged their section of Kestrel was, and so it was time to take stock of where they were at.

“Chief Higgins, our reactors are the most important. Let’s start with you,” Jonathan said once everyone was sitting.

“Yes, Captain,” Higgins said as he began. “As far as the reactors are concerned, I actually have some good news. When the last salvo hit us, the three we had functioning all went into failsafe mode. They’ve been shaken around pretty badly, and I’ve had to replace several minor parts, but tests indicate we should be able to bring them up to at least eighty percent of full operating power. Reactor three is another matter, I wouldn’t try putting her past forty percent. But all told, the reactors are in good condition to take us home.

“It’s the impulse engines that are another matter I’m afraid. Between them, I don’t expect us to be able to get more than sixty percent thrust. And I wouldn’t want to try that right away. I would be comfortable with somewhere in the range of forty percent and then build it up from there, and see how the power conduits and engines hold up.”

“Do you think we could get more than sixty if we take it slow up sixty, and don’t encounter any serious problems?” Jonathan asked

“Perhaps,” Higgins said cautiously. “To be honest, from the tests I’ve done on our main power conduits, I fear anything above sixty could start to burn them out. Ideally, several of them would need to be replaced before I’d be comfortable going over sixty. But in a pinch, we could try.”

Jonathan nodded. “All right, we will hopefully not need to try that. When do you think you can start bringing the reactors and engines online?”

“My team are preparing to bring each reactor out of idle over the next hour,” Higgins answered. “Once we get each one up to five percent, we can start to go from there. I want to make sure we can hold them stable at thirty percent before beginning to test the engines for real.”

“And the shift drive?” Cortez asked.

“Thankfully, it is completely operational,” Higgins responded. “We’ve already replaced two damaged projector nodes and there are three more to go, but the drive itself is fully operational. It just needs power to begin charging its capacitors.”

Jonathan smiled. “Okay, we know we can get home if our reactors can get us the power we need. That’s a relief. It means getting our reactors up and working is our first priority. If there is anything else you need, Chief, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I will, Captain,” Higgins said. “But at this stage, all we need is time to take things slowly and for our systems to play ball with us.”

“Okay then, over to you Cortez, what about the rest of the ship?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s a mixed bag,” Cortez said as she looked around at the gathered officers. “We estimate we were hit by five missiles in that last salvo, and suffered an additional six hits prior to that. We’ve got three hull breaches. The worst is three decks wide and twenty meters deep in places. About a quarter of the ship is still open to space. We’ve begun work sealing the smallest holes, but it will likely take days to fill up the larger ones, and that’s if we can find the materials we need. With Captain Nash’s permission, I’d like to strip some of Scimitar’s undamaged hull and armor sections. If we’re going to be here for a day or longer, we could bring them over and cannibalize them to speed up our own repair efforts.”

Every eye turned to Nash. Jonathan felt for him. It was bad enough that his frigate was a wreck, but seeing it taken apart even further would not be pleasant. As Nash nodded to Cortez, he hid his feelings well. “Kestrel is our only way home now; whatever you need, you can take. My people will assist.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said as he placed a hand on Nash’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He then turned back to Cortez.

“Many of our secondary systems have suffered damage of one kind or another. Our external COM arrays are simply gone,” She reported. “Sadly, both of Scimitar’s were destroyed as well. I have a couple of engineers who believe they can build a makeshift one, but it won’t have the same power or range as even our secondary array had.

“Life support is holding up okay, though we’re going to need to divert some power from the reactors once they start going again, for the life support capacitors are running low. Even with our losses, we’ve got twenty percent more people we need to provide for. With enough power though, we should be all right to get back to Farvul’vian.”

“And our weapons systems, Lieutenant Artex?” Jonathan asked next as he turned to his tactical officer

Artex shook her head. “Not good, Captain. Offensively, we are down to ten missile tubes on our starboard bow and nine on our port. Though most of them have suffered some kind of damage or another. If we had to go into a fight, I don’t think we could get a salvo off any quicker than every eight minutes. Worse, a number of relay tubes from the magazines have been damaged or warped by the hull breaches, so we might not even be able to get missiles to the gunners quick enough to fire that fast. As for our close-range weapons, we lost about half of our heavy laser and plasma cannons, and two of our three mass driver cannons.”

“And defensively?” Jonathan queried.

“We are actually in a worse condition there,” Artex said. “Those Eaglaton short-range missiles, even when they don’t penetrate our armor, do a hell of a lot of damage to our hull and hull-attached systems. We’ve got our external sensors up and working, they are at about twenty percent efficiency. With spare parts and time, we could get that up to forty, but that’s the best I think we could manage.” Cortez nodded towards Captain Nash. “I hadn’t thought of borrowing pieces from Scimitar, but if we can find some undamaged sensor nodes on her hull, then we can try and transfer them over, though I don’t know how many there will be.”

“Not many,” Nash said. “But we might be able to find you two or three undamaged ones.”

“Even one will be a help,” Artex responded. “When it comes to our point defenses, they are roughly in the same place. Twenty percent are currently functioning, repairs might get us to thirty-five. Taken together, I wouldn’t want to have to defend ourselves against an enemy frigate, never mind something with a bigger missile salvo.”

Jonathan took a deep breath. “That is not great, but we have no intention of seeking out another fight. Do your best to keep the repairs going, and let’s hope they’re not going to be needed.”

Artex nodded. “The one bright spot is Harte’s PD drones.” She gestured at Harte to elaborate.

“Six of our eight drones are still fully operational,” Harte said. “Sadly, four of our hull slots have been damaged, so only four were able to reattach themselves. We have the other two in hanger bay three. However, if needs be, we can launch them from there. So, with enough warning, we still have six functioning drones to aid our missile defense.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jonathan said as he flashed Harte a quick smile. “They saved our bacon against the Eaglaton cruiser. But again, let’s hope we’re not going to need them any time soon.”

Turning to Lydia, Jonathan took a deep breath. He had a rough knowledge of the ballpark figures, and so he knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, yet he needed to know. “And our crew, what has the butcher’s bill been?”

Lydia took a moment before replying. Her shoulders were hunched and there were bags under her eyes. Jonathan hadn’t enjoyed asking her to liaise with Kestrel’s Doctor and the medical staff, but someone had to take the lead. “Currently, we have eighty-three confirmed KIA,” she said in a low voice. “There are still eight more crew missing. At this point, we are assuming they are KIA as well. But we may never recover their bodies. There are a further twenty-one in the medical bay with serious injuries, but at this stage, Doctor Reyes believes she can keep them stable. There are still two that are touch and go. Reyes apologizes for not joining us, but she doesn’t feel she can leave them just yet.”

Lydia paused as her eyes darted to Nash. “Percentage wise, Scimitar’s losses are worse, but we have recovered one hundred and eighty of her crew and Reyes has been able to accommodate all their seriously injured into her sick bay as well, though she has taken over several corridors to do so.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said solemnly. “We have taken a serious number of losses. And every life is vital to the running of this ship. But they will not be forgotten. Now however, we have to focus on the living and getting everyone back to safety. So, let’s put a plan together. If possible, I want to get us moving towards the shift passage to Farvul’vian within twelve hours. It’s not unlikely that more Eaglaton warships will begin to show up sooner rather than later.

“Now, we don’t have to be going fast, but the sooner we start heading that way, the sooner we’ll get there, and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can jump out to relatively safety. As we bring our reactors and engines up closer to full power, we can speed things along. So tell me, what do we need to prioritize to get things moving in that direction?”

For another half an hour, Jonathan brainstormed with his officers, and they put together a plan to prioritize the repairs that would keep everyone on board Kestrel safe, and get them moving towards the shift passage to Farvul’vian as quickly as was wise to do so. After bringing the meeting to an end, Jonathan stood at the door out of his briefing room and shook hands, or patted the shoulder or in some other way, made contact with each of his officers. They all looked like he felt, utterly exhausted, and yet, they needed to find the strength from within themselves, and from him, to push on. For until they could jump Kestrel into shift space, she would be a sitting duck for the next enemy warship to come their way.

Chapter 35

There is a reason every Captain must work his way up a ship’s rank structure from the lowly position of Ensign, and it is a simple one; when the pressure is on, only the Captains with an intimate understanding of every inch of their ships are the ones who will win out and bring their people home.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

After their brief meeting, medical stimulants and coffee allowed Jonathan to work for another six hours. Eventually though, exhaustion caught up with him to the point where even he admitted he needed to sleep. Setting his alarm to give himself just four hours, he was out as soon as he closed his eyes. Far too soon, the alarm woke him again. As he opened his eyes, he took a deep breath through his nose as he smelled the coffee Heaton had prepared for him. When he returned to the bridge, he found most of his officers back at their consoles, having taken turns to get some sleep themselves.

“I have some good news, Captain,” Cortez informed him. “I think we’ve got all the major hull breaches sealed up. At least, we’ve reinforced the internal bulkheads enough that we should be able to handle some acceleration and the jump into shift space. With your permission, Higgins reports he is ready to begin bringing the reactors online. We were just waiting for you. I thought you would want to be here.”

“Good work,” Jonathan said as he took his seat. “All of you,” he added as he looked around at his officers. “Well,” he continued, “there’s no time like the present. Put the readouts from the reactors on the main holo display, and give Higgins the go ahead.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the four vertical bars that appeared on the holo display. Each showed the power output from one of Kestrel’s reactors. They all read zero as Higgins still had them in failsafe mode. “Higgins is about to restart reactor one,” Cortez relayed as she kept a live COM channel open to Kestrel’s reactor room. “Reactor has kickstarted,” she updated.

On the holo display, one bar turned green. It kept reading zero for half a minute, and then it ticked up to one. “The chief is going to try bringing it up to ten percent, Captain,” Cortez reported. Sure enough, over the course of a minute, the bar rose up to read ten. Then Higgins pushed it to twenty. Once there, he let it level off and observed the reactor for five minutes.

“The Chief is happy that reactor one is operational,” Cortez announced. “He’ll be ready to begin reactor two in a few moments. He wants to know if you want to try sending power through our relays first.”

“By all means,” Jonathan replied. “Prioritize our life support systems and let’s see what happens.” Since the repair work had begun, engineering teams had assessed every primary, secondary, and tertiary power relay. Ultimately though, there was no way to know for sure if they would hold the power the reactors would send through them or overload and burnout, until they were tested for real.

“Higgins is distributing the power now, Captain,” Cortez announced. Within moments, the lights came on in the bridge. Seconds later, the emergency lights flicked off. All across the ship, primary and some secondary systems came online again. Several power relays blew, but the majority held.

“Send repairs to those blown power relays and couplings,” Jonathan ordered, a smile on his face. It was good to have the bridge feeling like normal. “And instruct Higgins he can get on with the other reactors.”

Over the next hour, Jonathan watched as Higgins kickstarted Kestrel’s other three fusion reactors and brought them each to twenty percent maximum output. Next, the Chief Engineer turned to the cruiser’s six impulse engines. One had turned out to be beyond repair. But the rest would be able to handle at least some output. Going through them one by one, Higgins confirmed that they were indeed operational. Each one was then tested to find its limit.

Once Higgins was satisfied with just how far he could push each engine, he returned his attention to the reactors. He pushed each of them over twenty percent and even managed to bring reactor one up to ninety before throttling it back to seventy where he was more comfortable with it.

“Well, Chief,” Jonathan said over a COM channel to engineering once all the tests were complete. “How did she do?”

“I’d say she passed, Captain,” Higgins said, managing to sound both fatigued and upbeat at the same time. “She’s not going to win any naval races. Nor would I like to have to push her far beyond where we have taken her already. But I think she’ll get us back to Farvul’vian. I’m transferring controls over to your navigation console. Lieutenant Scholes can put her through a few maneuvers to test his controls and then we can be on our way.”

“Thank you, Chief, pass on my regards to your engineers. They have done some fine work today,” Jonathan replied. He turned to Lieutenant Scholes. The navigation officer had a long scar across his forehead, but Scholes had insisted Reyes prioritize other injured crew before removing the scar. “She’s all yours, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said to him. “But take it easy,” he added as Scholes’ mouth split into a wide grin.

Slowly, though perhaps not as slowly as Jonathan would have liked, Scholes started Kestrel moving. Firstly, he carried out a few simple maneuvers, then tried a corkscrew followed by a loop. None were done at the speed used in combat, but they allowed Higgins and Cortez to get good data on how the impulse engines, maneuvering thrusters, and Kestrel’s hull handled the maneuvers and g-forces.

“She feels like a bulk freighter, Captain, but she is flyable,” Scholes reported when he was done. “What course shall I set?”

“Take us back to Scimitar,” Jonathan ordered. “Cortez, request Nash join us on the bridge.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kestrel came up alongside Scimitar’s wreck. The gravitational pull of the system’s pulsar star had taken her and was slowly pulling her in, but it would be two hundred years before Scimitar collided with the pulsar. Jonathan couldn’t allow the ship to fall into Eaglaton hands. “Do you wish to give the order, Captain?” He asked Nash once Kestrel was in position.

“I don’t,” Nash replied. “But I will, nonetheless.” He turned to Artex. “You may fire, Lieutenant.”

Two antimatter missiles shot away from Kestrel. They covered the distance to Scimitar’s wreck in just twenty seconds. Both struck the stricken frigate at the same time. Their twin detonations turned the wreck into space dust.

“Thank you, Captain,” Nash said as he turned to Jonathan. “At least she died at our hands, and not theirs.”

Jonathan nodded. Sadly, he had no words of comfort for Nash. He knew all too well how much it hurt to lose one’s first command. Time was the only way he knew to heal the wound. Not that it ever really disappeared. “We are done here,” he said to his officers. “Hopefully, we have bought Becket and the fleet some more time to prepare their defenses. Now it’s time for us to think of ourselves. Set course for Farvul’vian. Let’s get to a more friendly system where we can get Kestrel and our injured the help they need. Lieutenant Scholes, set course for the Farvul’vian shift passage.”

“My pleasure, Captain,” Scholes responded as he tapped on his console and Kestrel began to turn.

Jonathan sat back in his command chair, though he still felt worn out, he relaxed into his chair’s cushioning. It felt good to be on the move again and leaving the field of battle behind.

Four hours later, Kestrel had made her way halfway across the system. Jonathan had retired briefly for a meal, but quickly came back to the bridge to continue monitoring all of his command systems. Barely ten minutes went by without some secondary or tertiary systems failing or needing immediate attention. True to Higgins’ words though, Kestrel’s reactors and engines held out.

A new alarm suddenly grabbed everyone’s attention. So used to hearing alarms from damage reports, it took Jonathan a moment to recognize this one. “Contact report!” Lydia called out. “On the far side of the system. Six new contacts are accelerating away from one of the shift passages.” As she spoke, Lydia sent the data to the main holo display.

“The same one the Eaglaton cruiser came in from,” Jonathan saw. He didn’t need to wait for Kestrel’s computer to analyze the acceleration profiles to know they were more Eaglaton warships. Moments later, symbols began to appear beside the new contacts. They were three destroyers and three frigates. “Can they catch us?” Jonathan asked as he held his breath. With Kestrel already accelerating at a steady pace, the Eaglatons would soon pick her up, if they hadn’t already.

“Calculating that now, Captain,” Scholes replied. “I’m afraid so,” he added moments later as he looked around from his console. “If they turn after us in the next ten minutes.”

“They’re already turning,” Lydia pointed out as everyone turned from Scholes back to the holo display. “Two of the destroyers and a frigate are, anyway.”

“They’ll know who we are,” Jonathan guessed. “One of those frigates is bound to be the one the Eaglaton cruiser sent away. They’ll know who we are and quickly figure out we are damaged.”

Tapping on his command chair, Jonathan opened a COM channel to engineering. “Higgins, are you seeing this?”

“I am, Captain, it doesn’t look good,” Higgins replied. “I know what you’re going to ask. We can maybe push another ten percent thrust through the engines. But after that, it’s going to get dicey. We’ll have to up the output from the reactors, but I’m not too comfortable with having to do that.”

“Will ten percent help us?” Jonathan asked as he turned to Scholes.

The navigation officer shook his head. “We need eighteen at least, Captain.”

“Did you hear that, Higgins, we need eighteen percent,” Jonathan relayed.

Higgins cleared his throat. “I don’t know about that, Captain. We could melt down a reactor or blow an engine. But if you’re telling me we’re dead otherwise. I suppose we need to try.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan said with a nod. “We’ll work from here on powering down every non-essential system. You bring up the reactors to the level you’re comfortable with first, and then we’ll try boosting the engines. If you think either a reactor or engine is about to fail, you have my permission to power it down immediately.”

“Aye, Captain, we’ll see what we can do,” Higgins replied.

“Captain, what if we can give the engines a little help,” Lydia said as she turned in her command chair to face him.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked.

“We have quite a lot of shuttles on board now with all of the ones we recovered from Scimitar,” Lydia explained. “And we have Harte’s PD drones. If we launch them and attach them all to the hull, they could give us some of the acceleration we need, and take the strain off Higgins’ reactors.”

Jonathan frowned. A standard Imperial shuttle was less than a thousandth the size of Kestrel. Compared to the cruiser’s massive impulse engines, its small thrusters were even less impressive. But we are not using our engines anywhere near their full potential, so the delta won’t be as large as usual, Jonathan thought. “Scholes, do the math for us.”

Scholes fingers tapped furiously over his command console. “I think it’s worth it Captain,” he said as he looked up. “If we get them all out, it would increase our current acceleration by two percent. We’re still going to need a lot more from our own engines, but maybe it will be enough to take the pressure off Higgins.”

Jonathan gave Lydia a curt nod. “Excellent idea, Lieutenant, start scrambling the shuttles. Harte, prepare your drones to launch as well. We need to send engineering teams out on the hull to make sure they are firmly attached. Let’s get to work people.”

As Higgins slowly increased the output from the reactors and then funneled the energy to Kestrel’s impulse engines, Jonathan and his officers got to work launching the shuttles and drones. One by one, they were attached to Kestrel’s hull and then their engines fired at full power. Within half an hour, the cruiser had been brought up to the acceleration rate Scholes had determined was necessary.

Jonathan couldn’t help constantly glancing at the power readouts from the reactors and engines, fearing one would overload or go into an emergency shutdown. Yet neither happened. That didn’t stop other alarms going off however, as the stress being put on Kestrel caused other systems to fail or repairs to come undone.

Not long after Kestrel reached the needed acceleration rate, a different alarm sounded again. More new contacts were being detected! On the holo display, ninety-eight new ships were shown as they began to move into the system.

“An enemy squadron,” Cortez said. “We are definitely in the path of their main fleet. It’s a good thing we got moving when we did!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jonathan replied.

“Captain,” Lydia said, sounding worried. “The three ships chasing us just increased their acceleration rates.”

“There’s a flotilla breaking away from the newcomers towards us as well,” Artex reported.

Jonathan shared a look with Cortez, they were both worried. The Eaglatons weren’t simply going to let them go. “Will they catch us?” he asked Lydia.

Lydia nodded her head. “Just barely. But at their new acceleration rate, they’ll be able to fire off three missile salvos at us before we can jump out. Judging from the power readings we’re getting from them; they must be pushing their reactors and engines as hard as they can. But if they maintain what they’re doing, they’ll get us.”

“Then we just have to push ourselves a little more,” Jonathan said as he tapped his COM unit to speak to Higgins once again. “Chief, you know what I’m going to ask.”

“I don’t like it, Captain. We’re risking a meltdown. If that happens, we’ll be stranded,” Higgins protested.

“And if we are stranded, then we’ll have no choice but to surrender,” Jonathan replied. “I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather spend the rest of this war on Kestrel than in some Eaglaton prison.”

Higgins let out a sigh. “I guess, Captain.”

“Then see what you can do, Chief,” Jonathan ordered. “If there is any indication we’re about to risk damaging the ship, then throttle back the power. But until that point, we need to take the risk. I trust you, Chief. So just see what you can do.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Higgins replied.

Silence descended on the bridge as everyone stared at a secondary holo display. The readout from Kestrel’s four engines was now being displayed there. Jonathan felt his body tense as the power readings from reactor one picked up by one percent. Reactor two followed next, then Higgins skipped over reactor three and pushed reactor four up another percent.

As he waited with everyone else for Higgins to transfer the extra power to the engines, Jonathan felt his body tremble a little. The stress was getting to him. He knew he had been under far more stress in the past, but it had been twenty-eight hours since they had first detected the Eaglaton cruiser and two frigates. Since then, he had been under a great deal of mental and physical stress. It’s starting to catch up to me, Jonathan thought as he held up a hand and watched it shake slightly. Quickly, he put it back down and grabbed his command chair, not wanting any of his subordinates to see.

“It’s working,” Cortez said, drawing Jonathan’s attention back to the readout. Kestrel’s acceleration had increased by another three percent. It was still pitiful compared to the rate the Eaglaton warships were putting out. But the main holo display updated to show Kestrel would now reach the mass shadow before the enemy ships got into missile range.

“I think she’ll hold this rate, Captain,” Higgins reported moments later. “For now at least. I’ll not be taking my eye off any of the reactors until we jump out though.”

Jonathan’s body slumped as his concern for his ship and crew receded. “Thank you, Chief. Let’s hope we won’t need any more.” Turning his attention back to the Eaglaton warships, Jonathan waited and watched to see if they would risk pushing their reactors any harder.

Several minutes passed without the ships increasing their acceleration rate. Then they began to flash on the holo display signaling Kestrel’s sensors had detected a change in their engine output. To Jonathan’s surprise, however, the holo display began to show them decreasing the thrust from their engines. “They’re giving up!” he said with a smile. “At least, giving up catching us before we jump out,” he added. It was clear the ships were still racing as hard as they safely could after Kestrel. No doubt the enemy Captains planned to follow him into shift space and catch them in the next system.

“We’re far from out of this yet,” Jonathan continued as he addressed his officers. “Once we make it to shift space, we have two days to the next system. We need to carry out as many repairs as possible. We’re going to need a lot more power from our reactors and thrust from our engines if we are going to keep ahead of them. Cortez,” Jonathan said as he turned to his First Lieutenant. “We are all exhausted at this point. Start drawing up sleep schedules. We’ve got two more hours to the shift passage. I want as many of our crew sent to their quarters to get rest now, so they can be up and back at work once we make the jump.”

“I’ll make the arrangements now, Captain,” Cortez said with a nod.

“Captain,” Sub Lieutenant Jenkins interrupted. Surprise was written across her face. “We’re being hailed by one of the pursuing Eaglaton ships. It’s addressed to you personally.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Put it on the holo display, I guess,” he said as he shared a glance with Cortez, wondering how on earth the Eaglatons knew he commanded Kestrel.

“Captain Somerville, or should I address you as Prince Somerville?” A regal-looking Eaglaton said. “I am Captain Farsnir of the cruiser Swooping Death. I believe you deserve a deal of respect for defeating my ship’s sister ship. The battle must have been impressive. However, my sensors tell me your ship is badly damaged. I imagine you are pushing your systems far beyond what they can handle. You are risking a meltdown, or even a catastrophic failure.

“Let me be blunt with you. My ships have orders to pursue you as far as necessary to capture or destroy Kestrel. Yet it is you who is my main target. I am therefore willing to make you a deal. Surrender yourself into my custody, and I will allow Kestrel to go on her way. We will not pursue her any further. That way, your crew can reduce the strain on your systems and ensure they get back to your fleet safely.

“I also want to give you my word that you will be treated fairly,” Farsnir said as he leaned a little closer to make his point. “Your deeds are already well-known among my people. You have earned a degree of respect. We will treat you well in accord with your rank.” Farsnir nodded as if the matter was settled. “I await your response.”

Jonathan shook his head. The Eaglatons never ceased to surprise him. In one sense, their offer was very fair, Farsnir’s ships had every chance of catching Kestrel in the next system, or the one after that. They had a massive acceleration advantage, after all. Of course, he knew if he surrendered, at a strategic level, the deal would massively favor Farsnir. For whatever the Eaglatons wanted with him, it couldn’t be good. Probably they want to use me as some kind of bargaining chip to use against Admiral Becket, he thought.

And yet, even knowing that, Jonathan was still tempted. If he could guarantee the safety of his ship and his crew, was it not worth giving up his freedom? The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him broke Jonathan’s train of thought. He recognized it instantly. Half-turning, he found Becca glaring at him. She was standing at her post guarding the entrance onto the bridge. The look on her face was as cold as steel. She didn’t need to use any words to tell Jonathan that if he tried to surrender, he’d have to fight his way past her.

Her and the rest of her Imperial Guards, Jonathan suspected. If he opened his mouth to suggest surrendering, she’d be sending orders for them to come in their combat armor and get him. And I’d probably have to fight past the rest of them too, he thought as he glanced at Cortez and then Lydia. Neither looked as stern as Becca, but it was plain on their faces what they thought of Farsnir’s offer.

Turning back to Becca, he gave his chief of security the sweetest smile he could. “Don’t worry everyone,” he said to all of his officers. “I’m not thinking of jumping ship just yet.”

“Shall I send a reply then, Captain?” Jenkins asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “Silence will be reply enough.”

Though he gave orders for most of his bridge officers to retire to their quarters to sleep, Jonathan stayed on the bridge for the next two hours as Kestrel raced as fast as she could to the system’s mass shadow. Whilst the Eaglatons had slowed down, they were still going to be right on Kestrel’s heels when she jumped out. As a result, Jonathan was only able to recover Harte’s PD drones and four of Kestrel’s shuttles. The rest had to be detached from the hull just seconds before the jump.

“Release them,” Jonathan ordered when the time came.

The docking clamps of seven shuttles detached together and their maneuvering thrusters pushed them away from Kestrel’s hull. When they were far enough away, defensive laser cannons blasted each one apart so as not to leave anything for the Eaglatons to capture.

Just three seconds later, Kestrel crossed the system’s mass shadow. Jonathan opened his mouth to give the command to jump when the holo display suddenly started to change. Hundreds of new contacts were being detected. The number quickly rose to over a thousand and showed no sign of stopping. The main Eaglaton fleet! Jonathan thought. It had been right behind the Eaglaton cruiser they had fought after all. Suddenly, getting back to Admiral Becket became even more important. “Jump us out,” he ordered Scholes even as the number of enemy ships continued to rise.

“Jumping,” Scholes said. Moments later, a small tremor ran through the bridge as Kestrel jumped into shift space.

“Now, we focus on our reactors and engines,” Jonathan said to his officers. “We must do whatever it takes to get more out of them.” They had two days where the pursuing Eaglatons couldn’t catch them, and he couldn’t afford to waste even a second of them.

Chapter 36

The days of Emperors and Empresses leading from the front in naval wars have largely passed into history, only in the most extreme times have our sovereigns been needed to put their lives directly in harm’s way. However, when they have, the fleet has never failed to rally.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident, Farvul’vian system, 11th July 2510 AD, (seven days later).

“A new ship has just started accelerating into the system, Admiral,” Lieutenant Farnsworth informed Becket.

Setting down her datapad, Becket looked up to the bridge’s main holo display. “Can we identify it?” She asked as soon as he saw what shift passage the ship was coming from. Four days ago, the frigate Hound had come back from Captain Somerville with news of a contact report. Hound’s Captain had also confirmed Jonathan had set off to engage the Eaglaton scout ships. Since then, nothing had been heard from him.

Becket had sent several frigates out to speed any news, but none had come back yet. Somerville’s absence and the frigates’ failure to return had Becket on edge. She had already lost one of Emperor Somerville’s children, she was dreading the idea she might have lost another so soon.

“The computer has a sixty percent match,” Farnsworth replied seconds later. “The acceleration profile appears similar to Kestrel, but either it’s someone trying and failing to look like her, or she is pretty damaged.”

“It is them,” Becket was sure. Relief flooded through her. “They’ve been damaged, but they made it back.”

“They’re changing course,” Farnsworth interrupted. “It looks like the beginning of a prearranged signal.” Tension suddenly filled the bridge. Somerville had briefly served on Becket’s command staff, and every officer around her considered him a friend. “Enemy close,” Farnsworth reported. “The signal is enemy close.”

Becket didn’t hesitate. “Send orders to all nearby ships. They are to converge on Kestrel at once,” she ordered. Her eyes darted to the main holo display. A handful of picket ships were patrolling the shift passage Kestrel had just jumped out of. A couple of larger squadrons were further in the system, but not too far away. They should be able to lend help to Somerville, yet it would take twenty minutes for her orders to reach them. Too long, she thought. If Somerville was in serious danger, she needed her ships to act faster. I’m not losing him as well, she thought as she pressed her teeth together.

Quickly, she racked her brain for the best prearranged message to send. “Power up the gravimetric COM,” she said when she got it. “Send, ‘protect the flag.’” They’ll understand, she was sure. Even if it was rarely mentioned, every Captain in her fleet knew Somerville was the Imperial Heir.

As Trident’s gravimetric COM began sending pulses out into the system, Becket sat forward in her command chair. Come on, come on, she thought towards the various groups of ships near Kestrel. They would all be receiving it instantly. “Yes!” she said as her hands tightened into a fist at the sight of some of her ships beginning to move. Within seconds, many more joined them. Soon, more than a hundred were racing towards Somerville’s ship.

Somerville’s damaged ship, Becket reminded herself. Now that Trident’s sensors had got a good look at Kestrel and assessed her acceleration rate, it was clear the cruiser was badly damaged. She was moving with acceleration rates less than two-thirds of what she was rated for. Well, we’ve got you now Jonathan, just hold her together a little longer, Becket thought towards her friend.

*

IS Kestrel

A cheer went up around Kestrel’s bridge as every Imperial ship within several light minutes of their position turned onto intercept courses. For seven straight days they had been on the run from Captain Farsnir’s ships and more than twenty others that had joined him. Thankfully, the repairs they had been able to carry out in shift space had allowed them to keep ahead of the Eaglaton flotilla in the first system Kestrel had jumped into after running. Even so, they had been forced to push the reactors even further than Higgins had wanted.

Inevitably, one of the reactors had gone into an emergency shutdown. Kestrel had built up enough momentum to jump out before being caught. But it had allowed Farsnir to almost close to missile range. Three more days in the safety of shift space had followed where more makeshift repairs had been rushed. Then, in the second system, the last one before reaching Farvul’vian, the pursuit had begun once again. Farsnir had come so close that one frigate that had surged ahead of the other Eaglaton warships had managed to fire a single salvo at Kestrel. Forced to defend themselves, Harte’s PD drones had been the only thing that saved them. Their defensive fire had bought them the time to once again escape into shift space.

The problem was, as everyone knew, when they jumped out into the Farvul’vian system, Farsnir would be right on their heels. But now he is going to be the one who has to run! Jonathan thought as he shared the relief the rest of his crew felt. For the last day in shift space, they had all been thinking the same thing, even if no one had shared it out loud. There had been a very real chance they would reach Farvul’vian and be able to transmit their message, only to have Farsnir jump out and destroy or capture them.

“Send our sensor data from the last hour of our pursuit through the last system to all the ships coming to our aid,” Jonathan ordered Abrahams. Thankfully the COM Lieutenant had now taken up his post again after being released by Reyes from sickbay. “Let them see how many ships are likely to jump out after us.”

Jonathan didn’t know who the senior commander was among all the ships coming his way, but all the Captains deserved to know. Especially those closest, for it was quite possible they were initially going to be outnumbered. “And Harte, launch your PD drones, if these ships are coming to give us cover, we’re not going to let them fight alone,” Jonathan added.

“We’re being hailed by Revered, she’s a medium cruiser, Commodore Sato commanding,” Abrahams informed Jonathan three minutes later.

“Put her on the main display,” Jonathan replied.

“Somerville, it appears I am the senior commander, for the moment, at least,” Sato said. “Commodore Penney commands the heavy cruiser division heading our way, but he won’t be here for fifteen minutes. Just how close do you think these Eaglatons are behind you?”

“Given how much they’ve been able to catch up with us between jumps, I’d expect to see them in the next five minutes, Commodore,” Jonathan said. “They may be more cautious jumping into Farvul’vian, as I expect they know we have captured it. But they also know who I am, so that may alter their evaluation of the situation.”

“I see,” Sato said as she pushed her lips together. “Well, we know who you are too, Captain, so don’t worry, we have your back.”

Every inch of Jonathan wanted to instruct Sato to forget who he was, and fight her ships as if he was any other Captain. Yet he knew it would insult her. So, though he hated it, he kept his feelings to himself. “Thank you, Commodore,” he said instead. “My crew would certainly appreciate the assistance.”

“We’ll fall into formation with you presently,” Sato replied. “You just keep heading for Trident, we’ll do the rest.”

Jonathan nodded, and then Sato cut the COM channel. The holo display returned to showing her medium cruiser and the small flotilla of ships she commanded. They had been picketing the shift passage, but now were racing towards Kestrel. In just three minutes, they slotted around Kestrel. They formed such a tight ball, that it was clear they were putting their hulls in the way of any attack that might come against Jonathan’s ship from the rear.

“Deploy our PD drones behind their ships,” Jonathan instructed Harte. “They’re not going to do us much good keeping station with Kestrel.”

Just as the drones started to move back, contact alarms began to blare. The holo display was quickly filled with twenty-three new contacts. Jumping out almost exactly where Kestrel had, Farsnir’s ships appeared to have thrown caution to the wind as they accelerated straight for Kestrel. With the ship still only able to reach sixty-four percent of her maximum rated acceleration, it didn’t take long for Farsnir to get into missile range.

“I guess he is no longer interested in my surrender,” Jonathan said when Farsnir’s ships fired a full missile salvo. One hundred and eighty-four missiles were charging right for Kestrel.

In the time it took them to reach the damaged cruiser and her escorts, three more Imperial ships joined them. Together they fired their own salvo back at Farsnir, and then engaged the Eaglaton missiles. Harte’s PD drones shot down four, and then defensive fire from the rest of the Imperial shots tore into them.

With just twelve ships making up Sato’s command, they didn’t have the firepower to fully deal with Farsnir’s salvo. Eight missiles got close enough to detonate and send grazer beams piercing into the small Imperial flotilla. Shields flared, and Kestrel’s sensors detected two heat blooms where beams managed to strike valstronium armor.

Jonathan could hardly stand to watch. Any of the enemy grazer beams could destroy one of Sato’s ships, or damage it enough that it would have to fall out of formation. He hated others putting themselves in harm’s way for him. Even if just one crewman was killed, it would be on his conscience for months. Thankfully, neither ship that was hit showed signs of serious damage. Their armor had held. That’s at least one advantage of Kestrel being damaged, even if they take some damage, we’re going slow enough that they could keep up, Jonathan thought.

Before Farsnir’s next salvo came in, five more ships joined the growing flotilla escorting Kestrel. Sato was therefore able to fire a more powerful salvo before switching to defending her ships again. This time, only six enemy missiles managed to detonate. Shields flared again and another ship suffered a hit. Its hull was breached. Jonathan winced when he saw the visuals, the frigate’s crew had to have taken casualties. Nevertheless, it didn’t fall out formation.

When it came to defending his own ships, Farsnir had a much easier job. He easily swatted aside the first salvo Sato had fired. The second proved more difficult, but only one mark VII missile managed to get close enough to score a proximity hit. Though the small amount of antimatter that touched the destroyer’s hull caused a large explosion, the sturdily-built Eaglaton warship survived it.

“They’re turning,” Artex shouted seconds after the Eaglaton’s fired their third salvo.

“About time!” Cortez said. With more and more ships joining them, the balance of power was quickly shifting. “I was beginning to think he had a death wish. He really wanted to get you,” she added as she turned to Jonathan.

“He, or someone higher up the food chain,” Jonathan said, pretty certain Farsnir had orders from a more senior Admiral. Does that mean they know they killed Georgia? He asked himself. If they do, that would explain why they want to get me, too. He knew his father and mother would be devastated if they lost a son and daughter. But would it make them pull out of the war? Jonathan didn’t think so, but he wasn’t certain. It wasn’t hard to imagine that’s what the Eaglatons were hoping for though.

By the time Farsnir’s last salvo reached Kestrel, Commodore Penney’s four heavy cruisers had come close enough to join their weapons to the defense. Every Eaglaton missile was dealt with before it could detonate and release its grazer beam. Sadly, with Farsnir’s ships turning, Sato and Penney weren’t able to fire a third salvo of their own. Jonathan was disappointed, he would have liked to have sent Farsnir packing with a good kick up the backside. After being chased nonstop for nearly a week, seeing some of Farsnir’s ships suffering would have felt good.

But we are safe, he said to himself as a great deal of tension began to leave his shoulders. We are safe, and we have got word to Becket about the approaching Eaglaton fleet. That will have to be enough.

“Stand down from battle stations,” Jonathan ordered. “Triple the food rations for the day, and cut the necessary crew on each watch by fifty percent. I think it’s time we let everyone have some free time and enjoy themselves a little. We have made it to safety! Send word to everyone, let them know I am immensely proud of what we’ve accomplished.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Cortez said. She was grinning like the rest of the bridge officers. Jonathan strongly suspected most of the crew would use the extra free time to sleep, but if they wanted to party, he wasn’t going to stop them. “Abrahams and I will take the first watch,” Jonathan said. “You can all go and enjoy yourselves.”

*

Four hours later, Kestrel slotted into orbit around Farvul’vian. At once, several resupply and repair freighters swarmed around her. Shuttles began to take off the wounded and ferry over materials and engineers to help with her emergency repairs. For an hour, Jonathan was left to oversee his ship’s needs, then the call he had been expecting came in. “Captain, Admiral Becket is hailing you,” Abrahams informed him.

“I’ll take it in my quarters,” Jonathan said. “Call Cortez and have her come and take over here.”

“Aye, Captain,” Abrahams said.

“Admiral Becket,” Jonathan said after sitting at his desk and activating its holo display. “My ship and I owe you our lives. Thank you for sending so many ships to assist us.”

“You owe me nothing, Captain, the intelligence you have brought back has already repaid the debt,” Becket assured him. She then paused for a moment, stared at him, and then shook her head. “You are certainly developing a knack for getting yourself into trouble. You’ve racked up another victory, but this one was the closest yet. I’m amazed you made it back at all.”

“To be honest, so am I, Admiral,” Jonathan replied. “Chief Higgins and the rest of Kestrel’s crew worked miracles.”

Becket nodded. “I’m sure they did. But from your report, I fear Kestrel is going to need a lot more work than Higgins or my repair freighters can provide here. That’s why I wanted to speak with you. As soon as Higgins is happy, I want you to bring Kestrel back to Bastion. Our repair yards there can take the time to put her back as good as new.”

Jonathan’s face contorted. He didn’t deny Kestrel was damaged, but he hadn’t expected he’d be sent packing back behind the frontlines. Becket raised a hand before he could protest and smiled at his expression. “And this is why I knew I needed to do it in person. You have thrown your crew and ship in harm’s way again and again, with no thought to your own safety. That is commendable. In fact, that is what I wish from every one of my Captains. But you are not just one of my Captains. Every time I send you out into danger, I fear for your safety, and for what your death would mean for the Empire and for your parents.

“You and Kestrel have played your part in this war. For now at least. So go back to Bastion. Repair your ship, rebuild your crew, and if as I fear, this war isn’t over by then, you’ll have plenty of more opportunities to face this enemy.”

Though he understood Becket’s words, Jonathan shook his head, nevertheless. “The Eaglaton force that is coming our way is a very powerful one, Admiral. Kestrel has just proven that she can hold together. We still have fifty percent of our point defenses, and six of our eight PD drones. With some additional repairs, our effectiveness can be increased even further. We can stay and fight. We are needed here.”

Becket shook her head in response. “I cannot risk losing you so easily. That the enemy chased you so closely proves they know who you are and see you as a strategic target. You will be safer back at Bastion.”

“Please, Admiral,” Jonathan said. “Put us at the back of the fleet if you have to. Just let us see this through. Many of my crew were originally from Achilles. We have been in this from the beginning. Let us stand and fight with the fleet.”

Becket sighed. “If I order you, are you saying you will not go?”

“No, Admiral,” Jonathan said quickly. He lowered his eyes from Becket’s. “If it is your order, we will return to Bastion, and I will say no more. But before you give the order, as your friend, I’m requesting you let us remain. If you think the battle is going against us, you can even order Kestrel to depart if necessary.”

“And you would obey that order?” Becket pressed.

Jonathan nodded. “I give you my word.”

Becket stared at him for several seconds as if trying to decide whether he would or not. Then she nodded. “So be it. The fleet will fight better knowing you are with us. But know this, this could very well end up being a fight to the death. The Protectorates have rebuffed my parley frigate. They say they won’t entertain any kind of negotiated settlement unless we pull all our warships back through the Gift. And that’s not happening! So I can’t afford to pull back from Farvul’vian, for as soon as I do, I’ll have to split my force multiple ways to defend Bar’samin, Dudllias, Bastion and at least four Conclave worlds. So we must fight here and cripple whatever Protectorate and Eaglaton fleet is coming against us.”

“I understand, Admiral. All the more reason for Kestrel and me to remain here. If we must make our stand here, then I would like to represent my father and mother’s interests.”

An alarm coming across the COM channel prevented Becket from replying and made her turn away for several seconds. “More Eaglaton ships are jumping into the system,” she informed him. “It seems the lead elements of their fleet are already here. I can’t risk sending you out on your own now. Not when we know they know who you are. They could send a squadron after you. It seems you’re going to get your way, Captain. Now, I have to go. See to your ship and get her as ready as you can.”

“I will, Admiral. And thank you,” Jonathan said. “The whole fleet knows we could be in no better hands.”

“Let us hope so,” Becket said before cutting the COM channel.

And let us hope they are not coming with overwhelming numbers, Jonathan thought as he was left alone in his office. For no matter how good Becket was, he knew there was a limit to what even she could accomplish.

Chapter 37

Naval cadets can learn as much from Admiral Reverus as from any of the other prominent commanders of the Karacknid Wars Era.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

EPS Justice

Just two hours after sending in his first scouts, Admiral Reverus jumped into the Farvul’vian system with his flagship. Though his scout squadrons were still spreading out across the system engaging the Imperial scout squadrons, he needed to see what he was up against. Reading reports could never be the same as getting a feel for what was going on.

As Justice’s holo display began to update with data coming in from her own sensors and his scout squadrons, Reverus watched the system being populated by Imperial forces. His first impression was that the Imperial scout squadrons weren’t putting up much of a fight. Here and there, where they were able to get numerical superiority, they turned and fought his forces. By and large however, they were all falling back towards Farvul’vian.

Reverus frowned at what he was seeing. He had expected Admiral Becket to fight to keep open her line of retreat. Yet several of his squadrons were moving unopposed towards the shift passage that led out of Rasmorse space towards Ulan’nagn. She intends to make a stand here, he realized. From her perspective, he saw how it made sense. Justice had jumped in with just five hundred other warships. With the addition of his scouting squadrons, Reverus had a total of eight hundred ships. Admiral Becket’s fleet outnumbered him four to one.

But she must know we have additional ships, Reverus was sure. So far, he had jumped in the leading squadron of what was only the vanguard of his Eaglaton forces. Close behind him were additional elements of his vanguard and the entirety of what had once been Admiral Lvant’s Protectorate fleet. Reverus had also sent word for all Rasmorse and Tolodon fleets to rendezvous with him at Farvul’vian. Yes, he knew the enemy had captured Secassman and Cannle as well, but those two systems could wait. The bulk of the Imperial force was at Farvul’vian, and Reverus was sure that once he defeated them here, the other smaller fleets would retreat.

When Justice’s sensors began to assess and identify the Imperial ships in orbit around the former Rasmorse fleet base, Reverus’ eyes narrowed. Admiral Becket had been busy. Justice was detecting over four hundred freighters that were giving off higher than expected power readings. Instead of hiding behind the main warfleet, they were also out in front of it. Orbital batteries, Reverus guessed. The freighters had clearly been converted to either be large missile platforms or point defenses batteries. Based on the power readings coming from them, Reverus thought the latter, but he would have to investigate to be sure.

Well, he thought towards his opponent. That gives you a little more strength. But is it worth allowing your fleet to be surrounded and cut off? Reverus didn’t think so. Which meant Becket likely had other tricks up her sleeve. Like her attack with the asteroids on Farvul’vian’s defenses, Reverus thought. Thanks to Eaglaton Intelligence, he had access to detailed information on a number of the major battles that had been fought this side of the wormhole between the Humans and the Karacknids in their war. Yet none had included planetary sieges. Reverus intended to make whoever had overlooked gathering such intelligence pay when he returned to Eyrious.

When a single contact on the holo plot began to flash, Reverus turned to his guest. She had been standing in silence, watching as her friends were slowly surrounded. “Your brother’s ship is among the defenders,” Reverus said in genuine surprise. “Given how damaged it was, I would have thought he’d continue his retreat back to Bastion at least.”

“My brother is a fighter,” Georgia replied, her voice full of pride. “If there is to be a battle, then he would not fall back.”

Reverus shook his head. “Then he is a fool. But, a useful one.” Turning, he caught the eye of Joery, his Chief of Staff. “Make sure every ship knows not to target Kestrel. I want her captured when all this is over.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Joery responded.

Reverus smiled at Georgia. “Having two imperial heirs as bargaining chips will be better than one.” Still holding Georgia’s gaze, he began to give out more orders. “All right, call in the rest of our forces. Let’s see just how strong Admiral Becket’s resolve is.”

Over the course of twenty minutes, an additional one thousand eight hundred Eaglaton and three thousand three hundred Protectorate warships entered the system. Forming up into one crescent formation, they then began to move towards Farvul’vian. Though it was an impressive force, numbering over five thousand five hundred, Reverus couldn’t help but be frustrated at the sight of them. Behind him, spread out over fifteen systems, the rest of his fleet, numbering an additional five thousand ships, were making their way to join him. There was just one reason why they weren’t with him now as he began his long-prepared attack on the Humans; the disgraced Admiral Lvant.

Since hearing about Lvant’s decision to try and close the wormhole prematurely, Reverus had rushed his fleet fifteen hundred light years from their main bases. Doing so had severely stressed his logistics, and forced him to split his fleet into various sections to make the journey. Even now, when he had sent orders for them to hurry towards Farvul’vian, the best estimates suggested they would take another month to coalesce. And then, Reverus would have a new problem, for the Imperials had destroyed all the northern Rasmorse fleet bases.

But we have the Imperial fleet trapped here now, Reverus thought as he focused his attention on Admiral Becket’s ships. They were still where they had been when Justice had first entered the system. His display of strength had clearly not dissuaded the Human Admiral from standing her ground.

“It seems she does want to fight,” Reverus said to his guest. “Perhaps you would like to speak with them and convince them of the folly of taking such a course of action? If they were to surrender, there would be no need for the loss of life that will surely follow.”

Georgia half-turned from the holo display. There wasn’t a hint of fear on her face. “Admiral Becket is no fool. If she is prepared to stand and fight, then perhaps it is you who should be considering surrendering.”

Reverus couldn’t help but laugh. “Come now, Princess, you have seen the strength of my fleet. I’m sure you’ve been able to guess what kind of reinforcements are not far behind. Standing and fighting here will mean certain death for Becket and her ships.”

“If that is the decision Admiral Becket has chosen to make, then she does so for the good of our Empire and its allies. I would not seek to persuade her otherwise,” Georgia replied.

Reverus shrugged his shoulders. Georgia had done her best to convince him her Empire and its commanders fought with honor. That their intentions were always about protecting their people and their allies. Reverus knew full well that the Karacknids were an evil species, and fighting them would inevitably mean having to fight to protect one’s species. Yet he was far from ready to accept Admiral Becket was willing to stand and fight, and even die to protect the Dudl’lons and the Conclave species.

“Perhaps there is another explanation for your Admiral’s actions,” Reverus said as he thought about it. “If Becket stands and fights here, she is able to concentrate her forces. If she falls back, unless she is willing to abandon the strategic systems of Ulan’nagn, Dudllias, and the Conclave worlds, she would have to split her fleet several different ways. My guess is she is unwilling to abandon the system she has so recently conquered.”

Georgia smiled, and Reverus thought he detected a hint of sympathy in it. “Given the position you hold and the honor all your subordinates give you, I don’t doubt you are a great strategic and tactical commander, Admiral.” Georgia gestured towards Farvul’vian and Admiral Becket’s fleet. “But a failure to see the truth when it stands right in front of you can cause even the best commanders to fail. Can you not see the warships gathered against you? Nearly half that force must be made up of our allies. I even see Varanni, Crian, and Mindus warships out there. They are species who you have never encountered. Who you do not threaten. And yet, they have come to aid us and the Conclave species.”

“Or they come because their worlds are threatened with destruction if they do not fight,” Reverus pointed out, though he didn’t make the argument just as strongly as he might have done several weeks ago. Partly, he was tired of the back-and-forth he and Georgia had shared several times over the very same topic during their journey from Genese. Also, though he hated admitting it, a part of him was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t some truth to her words. The Humans were still the conquering expansionists he knew them to be, but it seemed they were far wilier in convincing their so-called allies to fight for them than the intelligence he had been given suggested.

The question now is, what is my course of action? Reverus asked himself as he ignored the smug look on Georgia’s face and focused on his fleet. If he wanted, he could detach half his fleet and leave them in the system to blockade Becket. Then he could make a dash towards Ulan’nagn, retake the system there, cut off Becket’s supply route, and even move on and close the wormhole. Doing so would prevent any more Imperials coming through and effectively end the war. All that would be left to do would be return, finish off Becket’s fleet, and then mop up the other Imperial forces.

But can I afford to leave Becket in my rear? That was the crucial question. Reverus was certain that every week the wormhole remained open, the Imperials would be funneling more and more ships through it. That made closing it a priority. However, Becket had already proven herself a very capable commander. There was no guarantee that even if he left a strong force to blockade her in, she wouldn’t find a way to break through the blockade, or even defeat the force he left to watch her. No, he thought to himself. Better to finish her now, while I have her trapped. Whatever else comes through the wormhole, the rest of my fleet will have to deal with it when they finally catch up.

“Dispatch our scouting squadrons towards Ulan’nagn,” Reverus ordered, his mind made up. “I want to know if there are any additional Imperial forces coming our way. Then let us begin making preparations for our attack. We will wait two days for the nearest squadrons to join us. Then we will put an end to this Imperial incursion into Rasmorse space.”

*

IS Trident

“They mean business,” Becket said as her officers watched the powerful Eaglaton force move into the system.

“I think we made the right decision pulling out of Genese when we did!” Albright commented. “I’m glad we didn’t know there were that many ships bearing down on us, or we might not have had the courage to stay quite so long.”

Becket nodded. “And then we’d be facing the same enemy fleet with far less reinforcements on our side.”

“Even with the extra time we bought, the odds aren’t exactly in our favor,” Captain Godwin said. He looked Becket’s way as he spoke, not needing to voice his question.

“We stay put,” Becket informed him and her staff. “If anything, their numbers cement our reasoning. If we fall back now, they could send two thousand warships to Bastion, Ulan’nagn, and Dudllias all at once. We’d only be able to hold one of them at best. And then if we tried, they’d just send more ships to close off the wormhole. No, we have to trust Emperor Somerville and our allies have our backs. They will be gathering fleets to defend our worlds properly. We just need to buy them the time they need.”

And hope we can still fight our way out of this, she added to herself. Her plan was simple. She was going to hold her position and tie up as much of the Eaglaton fleet for as long as possible. If they tried to close in and engage her directly, she had made as many preparations as possible. But if push came to shove, she intended to fight her way out. Given the forces arrayed against her, that was likely to prove even more costly than she had expected. But there was no way around that now.

“Let’s get our crews fed and then to their battle stations,” Becket ordered as the enemy fleet continued into the system. In just half an hour, they would be in a position to cut off her fleet if it tried to retreat. After that, if the enemy Admiral wanted, he could attack Becket’s positions within a couple of hours.

As it turned out, and as Becket had hoped, after cutting off her line of retreat, the enemy fleet didn’t advance any further that day. Beyond a few skirmishes with her outer squadrons, neither did an attack come on the second day. Worryingly though, four hundred additional warships joined the Eaglaton forces over the two days. In contrast, no Imperial forces came to her aid.

The longer Becket sat in her command chair staring out at the enemy forces, the more she feared she had made a mistake. Her plan was to hold the Eaglatons in position for as long as possible. But if they kept receiving reinforcements at a rate of two hundred every day, she would soon be so outnumbered, that there’d be no chance for her ships to escape. Just come and fight us, she found herself thinking towards the enemy commander. A battle at the current odds she would accept, but if they got much worse, she’d have to think about cutting her losses and trying to run without putting up a fight.

On the morning of the third day, within an hour of Becket coming back onto Trident’s bridge, she sat up in her command chair. Multiple elements of the enemy fleet had begun to move at once. She recognized what was happening right away. “It is beginning,” she said to the officers around her. “Call the rest of the bridge staff, and send word to the fleet to prepare for battle,” she ordered.

“You think this is it?” Albright asked a couple of minutes later as he stepped onto the bridge and moved quickly to his command chair. “It’s not a feint?

Becket gestured with her hand towards the holo display. “What do you think?” She asked.

“I think the Rasmorse on the planet’s surface have been watching every move we’ve made, and so that Eaglaton commander knows exactly what preparations we have carried out,” Albright said after studying the enemy positions. “He knows what he is up against, and is coming straight for the jugular.”

Becket nodded. That was exactly how she saw it, too. “This is it then,” she said to her officers. “Give the order for our ships to lower their orbit. If they want to hit us, let’s make them bleed for it.”

*

EPS Justice

“Enemy ships are moving back,” Joery announced. “They’re going into a lower orbit,” he added, confusion filling his voice.

Reverus was momentarily confused, too. Then he saw it. “Not just into lower orbit, into geosynchronous orbit with Farhar,” he explained to his Chief of Staff and other officers. “Smart,” he couldn’t help but admit. “We can’t risk using our long-range missiles. Not unless we’re willing to destroy the colony’s remaining orbitals and half of the city.”

When the leaders of Farvul’vian had sent him the visuals of Becket’s attack on the colony’s orbitals, he had thought they had left the stations because they were of little military value. Now he knew different. The Imperials hadn’t been showing Farvul’vian’s civilian economy mercy, they had been leaving an orbital dyke for them to shelter behind. If Reverus wanted to close in and engage them with his more inaccurate grazer warheads, he’d likely destroy much of the orbital industry.

Worse for his ships was the Imperial’s position relative to Farhar. The city was Farvul’vian’s second largest metropolitan area and sat along the planet’s equator. With the Imperial warships so close to the planet’s atmosphere, any grazer beam released by an Eaglaton long-range missile that missed hitting their targets could burn through the atmosphere and strike the city.

Smart, but savage, Reverus thought to himself. A part of him wanted to turn and point out the fact to Georgia, but he refrained. He was allowing her to watch the battle unfold so that he could get a read off her, for he suspected she was likely to foresee one of Becket’s traps before he would, and if she did, he was confident he would pick up something from her. There was therefore no point antagonizing her. He wanted her as relaxed as she could be as she watched the demise of her Empire’s navy.

Instead, Reverus weighed up the new situation. If he couldn’t attack the Imperials with his long-range missiles, he’d have to move in closer. Yet all the while, the Imperials would be able to engage his forces. They’ll get off three salvos before I can fire, he calculated. Despite his numerical advantage, he knew his forces would take substantial losses. But maybe we can use their fighter trick against them, he thought. It would help, but then his fighters would be at risk.

His other option was to pull back and wait for more ships. The more the balance of forces favored his fleet, the less damage three enemy salvos could do to his ships. But that is what she wants me to do, Reverus was all but certain. Lowering her orbit was meant to make me reconsider attacking. No. This must be finished now so we can move on to clear the wormhole. “We continue the attack,” he ordered. “Instruct Farhar’s leaders to begin evacuating the city if they haven’t already.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Joery replied, a hint of hesitancy on his voice.

“What is it?” Reverus asked, not wanting his subordinate to be distracted.

“We’re not really going to risk hitting the city though, are we?”

“The evacuation is a precaution,” Reverus said. “The last thing we’re going to do is risk our own civilians. Even if it costs us the battle, we will not risk hitting them. But I fear the Imperials may not show the same restraint.” Beside him, out of the corner of his eye, Reverus saw Georgia shuffle on her feet. She didn’t protest however, for there was no way she could argue away Admiral Becket’s tactic. “As soon as it is done, we advance,” Reverus added. Then he made himself comfortable as he waited.

Six more hours passed as all the citizens who wanted to leave the city did so. Almost, Reverus felt he could maybe risk firing his long-range missiles. Yet there was no way to be sure just how many Rasmorse had stayed behind. And I can’t level one of their cities, even if it is completely evacuated. On being promoted to the rank of Admiral he had sworn an oath to give his life for the protection of each Protectorate civilization and every single citizen. And we keep our oaths, even when it hurts, Reverus thought, repeating a mantra that had been etched into him as a child.

“We advance,” he ordered just minutes after receiving word the evacuation was complete. “Launch half our fighters, push them ahead of the fleet to engage the first missile salvos the Imperials will fire. Have the second half ready to move in and support them. We will push through their long-range fire and engage them with short-range missiles. This will be a battle of attrition, so no ships are to fall out of line unless they are severely crippled. Let us drive these invaders from our ally’s planet.”

“Aye, aye Admiral!” Joery said forcefully. Around him and Reverus, a seriousness set in amongst the other officers. All of them had spent their entire careers training for just this kind of situation. Though they were all inexperienced when it came to combat, they were willing to give their lives to liberate Farvul’vian.

As Reverus’ capital ships advanced, three thousand fighters launched and moved out ahead of them. Reverus wasn’t surprised to see the Imperials begin to launch their fighters. Their strategy depended on being able to hurt his force before he could begin to fire his own salvos. They couldn’t allow his fighters to reduce the strength of their first volleys. As three thousand five hundred enemy fighters formed up and accelerated away from Farvul’vian, Reverus felt Joery and several other officers turn towards him.

Reverus kept his eyes on the holo display. Allowing the enemy fighters to engage his force with superior numbers was not ideal. Yet the Imperials had already proven time and time again in the war that they could use their fighters to great advantage. Suffering slightly heavier losses to take the Imperial fighters off the strategic board was a price he was willing to pay.

Twenty minutes later, both groups of small craft crashed into one another. Imperial anti-fighter missiles caused a great deal of harm among Reverus’ forces. But then the more agile Eaglaton fighters that made up half of the Protectorate force began to make up for that. Reverus watched in silence as more than two thousand of his fighters were blown up. The Imperials lost just fifteen hundred, but he was happy with the exchange. It was only when the Imperials’ numerical advantage really started to pay off for them that he acted. “Send in the rest,” he ordered.

As another three thousand fighters suddenly came to life and accelerated towards the giant ball of dogfighting fighters, the Imperials quickly scattered. Less than half their number made it back to their ships. “Our second wave will engage the enemies’ salvos,” Reverus ordered. “The first is to return and refuel.”

As his ships continued to close with Farvul’vian, Reverus watched the enemy ships closely. If they had any extra hidden fighters, now was the time he expected them to be used. Though some additional fighters were launched, none tried to move out to engage his fresh fighters. They have no choice but to allow our fighters to engage their missiles, Reverus thought as he smiled. That will blunt their attacks. Then we will close in and finish this.

Chapter 38

A caught animal is often when it is at its most dangerous.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Trident

As Becket watched her fighters pull back from the largest fighter battle she had ever witnessed, she wondered why the enemy Admiral had allowed her fighters to engage half his force on such favorable terms. The only answer she came up with was that he wanted half his force left intact to make an attack run on her ships.

“Launch our reserve force,” she ordered. If you want to launch a strike, it’s going to cost you, she thought towards the Eaglaton commander. “Keep them close to our capital ships. They will only move out to engage enemy missiles when they start to fire,” she instructed Albright.

“Sending out the orders now, Admiral,” Albright replied.

Becket took a deep breath. The massive enemy fleet was just minutes away from being able to fire their long-range missiles. She was about to find out if her tactic was going to work. Scans of the city below her fleet suggested there were still tens of thousands of Rasmorse left in the city. She didn’t like putting them at risk. Not that they really were at risk. The truth was her move was a bluff. If the Eaglaton fleet did begin to open fire with their long-range missiles, she intended to move her ships away from the city. She was counting on the lies the Eaglatons insisted on believing about her people. For if she really was as bad as the Eaglatons claimed, then they should have no problem believing she meant to put the city in danger.

“They haven’t fired yet,” Godwin pointed out as the Eaglaton fleet passed the point where everyone expected him to launch their first salvo. Trident’s Captain turned to Becket and smiled. “Being a villain suits you.”

“Let’s not count our chickens yet,” Becket replied. Yet, as another minute passed and there were still no enemy missiles, she started to believe. “They really aren’t going to fire,” she said to her officers, a smile on her face. “I don’t know about you all, but that suits me just fine.”

“I’m certainly not complaining, Admiral,” Albright responded.

“We can open fire in thirty seconds,” Farnsworth updated.

“Then let’s make every shot count,” Becket replied. “Let’s show them what a full Imperial fleet can do!”

“Firing now!” Farnsworth announced.

From Trident and the three and a half thousand ships arrayed around her, three hundred and forty thousand mark VII missiles were hurled into space. In the blink of an eye, the bridge’s main holo display was suddenly jampacked with new contacts. Once clear of their ships, the missiles ignited their engines and raced up out of Farvul’vian’s gravity well. Their flight time to target was fifteen minutes, and so all three salvos of antimatter missiles were in space before the first reached the Eaglaton fleet.

Before being able to attack, they had to run the gauntlet of the Eaglaton fighters. As three thousand fighters tore into the missiles, most scored two if not three kills. Yet they only managed to reduce the number of Allied missiles by a fraction. Then they began to be engaged by the Eaglaton warships’ point defenses. Missiles died in their thousands and tens of thousands. With their superior numbers, the Eaglaton’s fire saturated space in front of their warships with laser beams.

Out of all the Allied missiles, just four hundred made it close enough to attack their targets. As Becket watched the enemy fleet, its formation was suddenly filled with large blue blooms of antimatter detonations. Wherever the antimatter touched enemy ships, it ate away at their armor and hull. In the blink of an eye, at least a hundred Protectorate ships were destroyed or fell out of formation, debris spilling from their innards.

Still, the rest of the Protectorate surged forward. The second Allied salvo had a similar impact. One hundred and seven warships were crippled or destroyed, yet the Protectorates were unperturbed. By the time the third salvo had finished dishing out its damage, the Protectorate fleet had lost nearly five percent of its strength. Becket shared a glance with Godwin. They had hurt their enemy, but they were still heavily outnumbered.

That fact was reinforced when the Protectorates opened fire. Five hundred and seventy thousand missiles appeared on the holo plot all at once and began to race in towards Farvul’vian. Becket held her breath as she watched the Protectorate fighters. If they were sent in behind the missiles, the enemy would be able to devastate her force in the first salvo. The fighters stayed put, however. They are holding them in reserve, Becket decided. After having the first half of their force ravaged, the Eaglaton commander clearly didn’t want to throw away his reserve.

“Time for our first surprise,” Becket said as she turned to Albright and nodded to him. “Release the satellites. Then move the Lancer frigates and our fighters forward.”

“At once, Admiral,” Albright replied.

From behind Trident, thirty freighters broke away from Becket’s supply fleet and moved up to join her warships. Then their hanger bay doors opened, and hundreds of defense satellites began to be launched. Originally destined for the defenses of Ulan’nagn and Dudllias, Becket had ordered them diverted to join her. Together, their firepower equated to an additional three hundred medium cruisers. It didn’t tilt the battle in her favor, but with the losses the Protectorates had just suffered, it helped even the odds slightly.

Just moments after they were deployed amongst her fleet, the three hundred fighters Becket had ahead of her ships began to engage the enemy missile salvo. Though they shot down more than a thousand of the enemy missiles, destroying them before they could release their small warheads, they had a minuscule impact on the wave of destruction coming Trident’s way. For just before the enemy missiles reached the Lancer frigates, they cut off their main engines and each disgorged ten smaller warheads. Five hundred thousand missiles became two and a half million.

Around Trident’s bridge, there was an audible sharp intaking of breath from many officers. Becket felt it too. For although mentally she had known what was coming, seeing it was a different experience. To her surprise, many started detonating soon after appearing. “They’re going after the Lancer frigates!” she shouted. It was too late however, for nearly a fifth of the enemy missiles had already zeroed in on her forward force and detonated. In the space of two seconds, all but a handful of her one hundred and thirty Lancer frigates were destroyed.

Those that remained ploughed thousands of laser beams into the rear of the cloud of missiles as it passed them by. Then their guns fell silent as it was the turn of Becket’s main fleet to defend themselves. From the defense satellites, converted freighters that were basically orbital defense stations, and her capital ships, mega joules of destructive energy were flung out towards the enemy missiles. Space was so dense with the missiles that the flak cannons and arc emitters scored many hits with each shot.

“Fire our heavy energy weapons into that!” Becket ordered. “Armitage, coordinate all the fleet’s weapons.”

Ordinarily, trying to target heavy plasma cannons, or mass driver rounds, at wildly maneuvering missiles was ineffective. Yet so many missiles were still racing towards her ships, there was a good chance the large bulky weapons would score a hit simply by luck. As every warship fired a volley, over four thousand enemy missiles were vaporized.

Tens of thousands yet remained. As they rushed closer and closer, Becket gripped her command chair. There was no way her defenses could get them all. Seconds before the enemy missiles began to detonate, without needing to give out fresh orders, the Allied ships began to duck in behind the hundreds of orbital stations still moving around Farvul’vian’s equator. Using the stations as cover, the warships continued to fire.

A fraction of a second after the first Protectorate missile detonated, the holo display showing space around Trident went blurry and all but faded to black. So many missiles were erupting around Becket’s flagship, its computer could make no sense of what it was seeing. Becket felt a small shockwave rumble under her feet. It was quickly followed by a second. Neither was strong enough to indicate Trident had been hit, but likely her shield had been struck by energy from proximity detonations.

As the holo display began to clear up, Becket quickly saw that many other ships in her fleet had not been so lucky. The sight that greeted her was more akin to the sight she would expect to see after a volcanic eruption than a scene in space. Hundreds of her ships and just as many Rasmorse stations were spewing fire. Underneath them, more stations and ships were falling, being sucked down into Farvul’vian’s atmosphere.

Becket grimaced. This was the cost of having her ships so close to the planet. “Get those ships evacuated!” she ordered as she sprang into action. “And use our energy weapons on any large debris from the Rasmorse stations that could strike the surface.” She quickly turned her attention back to her fleet. She needed to assess her formation and fill in any gaps. For the next enemy salvo was already just four and a half minutes away.

*

EPS Justice

Reverus did his best to keep his back straight and keep any hint of emotion from his face as salvo after salvo crashed into his fleet. Whilst most of his officers had little to no experience of combat, he did. Yet that experience had been nothing like what he was now facing. The largest battle he had fought in as a Captain had been a skirmish with a powerful pirate band. In total, one hundred ships had been involved, and most had been on his side. That day, he remembered being scared for the first time in his naval career.

Now, what he was feeling made that pale into insignificance. Terror was the only word he could find to sum it up. As the alien missiles rained down antimatter, and then laser beams onto his fleet, he didn’t know if each moment was going to be his last. When Justice was hit for the first time, he almost let out a squeak of fright. Yet he didn’t. Nor did his voice betray any of his emotions. For he was the fleet’s Admiral. He knew everyone on board Justice and throughout the rest of his ships were looking to him. So despite what he felt on the inside, Reverus showed his fleet exactly what was expected of an Eaglaton Admiral; poise and certainty in command. Anything less would have brought too much shame upon him.

Despite the death and destruction all around him, and the fear that constantly assaulted him, the rational part of Reverus’ brain did not entirely forsake him. Instead, as he watched the battle unfold, he was surprised that his ships were getting off so lightly. After the first three enemy salvos, he had actually started losing less rather than more ships to each subsequent attack. In an effort to quell his fear, Reverus seized onto that rational thought. It was surprising. But what did it mean? On a hunch, he pulled up the information listing the damage to his ships. It took a couple of minutes of reading, minutes where he should have been directing his forces. Yet something told Reverus it was important.

When he saw it, he shook his head. It was so obvious; he should have seen it right away. He wasn’t losing as many ships as expected, but far more were being damaged! She is spreading out her missiles, Reverus said to himself. Instead of focusing large amounts of missiles on individual ships to rip them apart, Admiral Becket was systematically hitting each ship in his fleet. Already Justice had been hit by two laser beams. She had lost a missile tube and quite a few point defense nodes.

If it’s the same across the entire fleet, we will need several weeks or longer to fully effect repairs, Reverus realized as he began to imagine all the work that would go into making right the damage. And with all the fleet bases in the north of Rasmorse space destroyed, it will take weeks to even get the damaged ships to where we can work on them. All of a sudden, Reverus understood why Becket had decided to make a stand at Farvul’vian. She had never been trying to defeat his fleet, only hurt it! For by engaging her with all the forces he currently had available, Reverus had allowed Becket to sacrifice some of her fleet to damage or cripple much of his.

Eyes narrowing, Reverus turned his gaze back to Becket’s fleet. It was taking a hammering. After more than an hour of fighting, over five hundred of her ships had been destroyed. Yet more than three thousand were still hanging on, and whereas many of Reverus’ ships had suffered some damage, many of Becket’s were still fully functional. They could live to fight another day.

Reverus’ last thought almost stopped his heart cold. He had been wrong moments ago; he hadn’t fully understood her plan. There was another vital aspect to it. But now he saw it fully. She is going to retreat, he was sure. When the tide turns against her, she’s going to try and pull her forces out. And if she can get two thousand or more ships out, whilst sending most of mine back to distant repair yards, we will be in serious trouble.

Reverus could easily picture it in his mind’s eye. He had so closely studied the star maps of Rasmorse space and the border with the Human Empire’s space that it was always hovering in the back of his mind. Becket would pull a portion of her fleet out intact, force him to dispatch most of his force to be resupplied and rearmed, and then tie the rest of his ships down defending Farvul’vian and the other northern Rasmorse worlds. She had already shown she could strike at any Rasmorse world along their northern and western borders.

Reverus nearly let out a grunt of anger. All the while he had been visualizing pushing towards Ulan’nagn, Dudllias and then the wormhole with his reinforcements, Becket had been maneuvering him into another scenario. With his current fleet incapacitated, he would have to direct his reinforcements into plugging the gaps along the Rasmorse border and guarding the liberated former fleet base systems. He would be stuck on the defensive while Becket continued to hold onto the initiative.

Summoning a mind relaxing technique he had been taught as a nestling, Reverus pushed down the sudden anger and intensified fear that his realizations brought. He needed to think clearly. He still had the upper hand. He was slowly chipping away at Becket’s strength. And sooner rather than later, he would take out enough orbital stations and defense satellites that his numbers would begin to take an even heavier toll on Becket’s forces. Which she no doubt knows, Reverus told himself. Which means she has a plan. She had to. If Becket wanted to get her fleet out relatively intact, she needed to pull another trick.

Reverus’ eye’s immediately went to the supply fleet holding station behind Becket’s warships. Lightly guarded with just a few cruisers, he had ignored it so far. If the battle went his way, he had assumed they would surrender rather than be destroyed for nothing. Becket had already surprised him by deploying hundreds of defense satellites from freighters that had been part of her supply fleet. Freighters that the ground observers on Farvul’vian hadn’t noticed weren’t carrying supplies and munitions. There are other freighters there holding another surprise, Reverus was sure. He didn’t know just what the surprise was, but it didn’t matter.

“Joery, I have a new mission for our fighters. Have the squadrons from the initial battle been refueled?” Reverus asked.

“They are refueled and ready to launch,” Joery answered. “We were planning to have them launching to replace our fighters currently intercepting Imperial missiles in about ten minutes.”

“Change of plan.” Reverus raised his hand and pointed at the Imperial supply fleet. “We are going to strike their supply freighters. I want as many destroyed as possible. Detach whatever fully fueled fighters we have in our main force to join the attack as well.”

“Understood,” Joery responded at once.

I’m not sure you do friend, but you will soon if my guess is correct, Reverus thought towards his subordinate. Feeling like he was being watched, Reverus turned his head to look around the bridge. He mentally nodded to himself when he found Georgia staring at him. He had almost forgotten about the Imperial Princess. “You sense it too,” he said to her. “There is at least one more surprise in that freighter fleet.”

Georgia’s face straightened as she fought to hide her emotions. She was too slow however, for Reverus saw something. “Enemy fighters, that’s what you expect?” Reverus nodded as he considered it. “Yes, that would be the best way to try and break the fleet out. Your friends no doubt. I am sorry, but they must be dealt with.”

Georgia didn’t answer, instead she turned away, not letting him read her anymore. No matter, Reverus thought, we will find out soon enough.

*

IS Trident

“Enemy fighters launching!” Lieutenant Rodgers called out over the din of the bridge.

Becket was so focused on picking out targets for her next salvo that she didn’t hear him.

“Admiral, they’re headed for our supply fleet!” Albright shouted over to her moments later.

“Who is?” Becket asked as she widened her vision to try and see what Albright was alluding to. She saw it just as Albright told her. She took a sharp intake of breath. He knows, she thought. She didn’t know how, but there was no other explanation. There was no other reason for the Protectorates to be targeting her supply fleet, not when the battle was far from over.

“What do you want to do, Admiral?” Albright asked.

Becket swallowed hard as she took a moment to grasp just how much the battle had changed. Up to this point, her plan had been working. She was taking losses, but she was giving almost as good as she got. By her estimation, she reckoned her fleet could fight for another half an hour or so before she would have to try and break past one of the weakened flanks of the Protectorate fleet. But now, to save her supply freighters, she’d have to launch her hidden fighters. And if they engaged the incoming enemy fighters, they wouldn’t have the fuel to also blow a hole in the enemy formation for her to force her fleet through.

We’re caught! She realized as a sense of hopelessness began to well up inside her. If she couldn’t get her fleet out, then when that half an hour was up, she would start to take serious losses. And it will only snowball from there! The Protectorate’s numerical advantage would soon start to destroy so many of her ships that she’d be unable to cause them any damage with her return fire. And then the battle will be over, we’ll have no choice but to surrender.

“Admiral, we need to launch our fighters to give them time to form up if they are going to defend themselves and the supply freighters,” Albright prompted her.

“Yes, launch them now,” Becket ordered. Though her voice had no conviction in it. In desperation, she turned her attention back to the ongoing battle. If she couldn’t use her hidden fighters to punch through the enemy fleet, she would have to do it the old-fashioned way. It would be devastatingly costly, but she had to try and get at least some of her ships out. She couldn’t allow the Protectorates to neutralize her entire fleet, for if they did, the path would be open for them to advance on the wormhole once again.

“Then pull back all our other fighters,” she ordered as she started to draw up the only other plan she could see having a chance. “They all need to be refueled and rearmed as soon as possible. We’ve got a narrow window, maybe just half an hour. We need to have as many ready as possible by then.”

Though she tried to make herself sound confident again, Becket did not feel it. For as her orders went out and an additional two thousand fighters appeared from their freighters to engage the fifteen hundred Protectorates ones charging them, just seven hundred fighters who had been intercepting enemy missiles turned back to their carriers to refuel and prepare to do what the two thousand had originally been tasked with. As much as she wanted to hope, her battle experience told her they simply wouldn’t be enough. Their reserve fighters will intercept ours if we try to launch an attack, and then their fleet will slowly grind us down to dust.

Becket wanted to scream at the situation she suddenly faced, but even more so at herself. She had thought herself so clever. What better way to lure your enemy in, than by allowing yourself to be trapped? Except now, the enemy Admiral had seen through her ruse, and she was trapped for real! Trapped and soon to be finished off, she thought as she watched her hidden fighters tear into the Eaglaton ones. Her fighters would win the battle, but they would be a spent force by then. Her last surprise had come to nothing.

Chapter 39

Time and time again the survival of the Empire has rested in the hands of one man.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Victory

It took every ounce of experience James Somerville had built up over his many years as a Captain, Admiral, and then Emperor, to look out at the view before him and hold himself back. A day ago, his scouts had returned to inform him Admiral Becket’s fleet was under siege at Farvul’vian. At once, he had jumped his fleet into shift space and rushed to the Rasmorse system.

Jumping out far from the system’s mass shadow to avoid Protectorate patrols, he had been greeted by the sight of the Protectorate fleet forming up to move in and engage Becket. Almost every fiber of James’ body had urged him to order his fleet to charge. His friend was surrounded and in danger. His son’s cruiser was among the trapped Imperial ships! Even more, he was certain the Eaglaton ships that had killed his daughter were among the enemy fleet.

As he stared at the massive alien fleet, James burned with rage. He wanted nothing more than to swoop in and destroy every last one of them. And yet, he managed to hold himself back. Instead of charging, his fleet was slowly cruising into the system on a wide arc around the Protectorate patrols.

Two things kept him from ordering an immediate charge. Firstly, he trusted Becket implicitly. He knew that if she had allowed herself to get surrounded, it was for a good reason. Secondly, and more importantly, he also knew that if he revealed his presence now, the Protectorate fleet would likely retreat. To James, that was unacceptable. He wanted to destroy as many of them as possible. So if he had to sit on his anger for just a little longer, then so be it.

As the Protectorate fleet began its assault however, it became harder and harder to stay silent. The first fighter battle saw significant losses on both sides. Then, despite being able to fire three free salvos at the Protectorates, Becket’s fleet began to be hit hard once the Protectorates opened up with their missiles. The number of small Protectorate warheads raining down on Becket’s fleet was ghastly. Around him, James could feel his officers’ amazement that any Imperial ships survived the first enemy salvo. And yet, they did, and kept on surviving and powerfully striking back at their enemy.

Gradually though, the Protectorate’s numbers began to tell. Too many Imperial ships were dying and not enough Protectorates ones. The battle is turning, James thought to himself as his eyes darted to Kestrel for at least the hundredth time. His son’s ship was still there. She didn’t appear to be in the thick of the fighting, but that could change at any moment.

The realization that Becket’s force was about to suffer more and more damage pulled at James’ heartstrings. He so desperately wanted to get revenge for his daughter. Though he knew it wouldn’t really ease his pain, he couldn’t help feeling like killing as many Protectorates as possible would somehow fill the gaping hole at the center of his being. Yet now, his son’s life was really in danger. And you can end it all now by ordering a charge. The Protectorates will run, and Jonathan will be safe.

James didn’t open his mouth, however. Instead, he kept perfectly still. For he was not just a father, but the Emperor of the Human Empire. And though he hated it, he knew his duty. It was the same duty his son and daughter had both signed up to the Navy to fulfill. Far more was at stake in the battle than either their lives or his. Becket knew that, that was why she had allowed herself to be trapped. And James knew it too, even if his emotions were screaming something else at him.

That was why, when the Protectorates launched a fresh fighter attack on Becket’s supply freighters, and they revealed the surprise she had been hiding, James still did not order a charge. Even as the Protectorate fighters charged in and negated the last trick Becket had been holding back, he did not open his mouth.

For another twenty-five minutes, he resolutely watched each new enemy salvo that hit Becket’s fleet. Every time, his heart threatened to jump out of his mouth as he feared for his son and friends. Yet Trident kept on fighting, and Kestrel continued to manage to stay away from most of the Protectorate missiles.

“Admiral,” Commander Seymore said, speaking to James for the first time in nearly an hour. “Look at these fighter launches here. It looks like they are preparing to launch a strike at the Protectorate fleet.”

James sat forward in his command chair to get a better look even as the holo display tracked his eyes and zoomed in. “Becket is about to try and break out with her fleet,” he concluded.

Seymore nodded. “That is what I was thinking.”

James turned to his Chief of Staff. “Are we close enough yet?”

Seymore tapped his command console, and a new line appeared on the holo map. “This is where we need to get to, to ensure they cannot break and run. We’re still fifteen minutes away.”

James took another look at Becket’s ships. They were already altering their formation in preparation to break orbit. “We don’t have fifteen minutes. She’ll lose half her fleet trying to get past them. Power up the gravimetric COM array. Signal Trident and instruct her to maintain her position. Then warn the fleet we will be going to full military power on my command.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Seymore replied.

As the gravimetric array began to pulse, every ship in the system was able to detect it. Though it gave away Victory’s position, James was hoping the enemy commander wouldn’t react by pulling out his fleet immediately. He was partially right.

The first response from the enemy ships was from a flotilla of frigates that turned right towards Victory and went to full acceleration, their active sensors releasing as much electromagnetic energy as they could. Next, more than a hundred recon drones were launched from Eaglaton capital ships to scan the area. Understandably, the enemy commander wanted to make sure the sudden appearance of hidden newcomers wasn’t some kind of bluff.

Just four minutes later, however, before either the frigates or drones could have discovered Victory and her consorts, the Protectorate fleet suddenly began to turn away from Farvul’vian. “Admiral?” Seymore asked.

James grimaced. Becket’s actions had given him away. Her ships had stopped just short of trying to break orbit. The enemy commander had realized there was only one reason they would do so; because Becket knew the gravimetric pulses weren’t a ruse, but had come from a force powerful enough to save her. “Full military acceleration!” James ordered. “Launch all fighters. The fighters will hit them with our first salvo. Coordinate our fire with Becket’s fleet.”

At once, James’ Staff Officers and Victory’s bridge officers jumped into action. Every one of them had seen action, either fighting pirates, secessionists, or the Flex-aor. Though none had seen a fleet battle quite like what they were about to experience, they all knew their roles well.

In response to his command, two thousand three hundred Imperial, Varanni, Vestarian, and Mindus warships came out of stealth. Matching the impressive acceleration rates of James’ newly constructed dreadnaught, they all charged towards the retreating Protectorate fleet. Just moments later, many of the ships of Admiral Becket’s fleet began to break orbit, as they matched the Protectorates’ moves.

James nodded. It was a bold move. But he expected nothing less from his friend. Becket’s ships would have to endure another two enemy salvos before he could join the fight. They were going to be hurt further. Yet it would then allow Becket and his force to cut into the Protectorates together.

As the two salvos crashed into Becket’s fleet, nearly three hundred ships were blown apart or severely damaged. Their return salvos hurt the Protectorates, but not nearly as badly. Then, finally, Victory came into range with her mark VII missiles. “Fire!” James ordered with a venom in his voice he hadn’t used in over twenty years. “Let’s make them pay!”

Though releasing his anger brought a great deal of satisfaction, it didn’t fill the emptiness within him. With an effort, James forced himself to ignore his disappointed feelings. He had a battle to fight.

*

EPS Justice

The sudden appearance of gravimetric pulses so near his fleet had disturbed Reverus. He prided himself on keeping his cool though, especially as there had been a chance it was a ruse. Yet Admiral Becket’s actions had shown him it was no trick. When the large enemy fleet appeared, his worst fears were confirmed. Somehow, the enemy had slipped an entire fleet through his patrol! There was only one explanation Reverus could think of: blind luck. The newcomers must have jumped into shift space towards Farvul’vian at around the same time his scout squadrons had jumped out. That was the only way they could have passed his ships without being spotted.

And then for hours, they slowly crept into the system around my picket ships, all the while watching their comrades be destroyed. Reverus shook his head. The enemy commander, whoever he was, was a cold one. And he’s going to get his pay off. There was no way around it. As soon as he had realized his predicament, Reverus had ordered a retreat. The problem was the new enemy fleet had a significant momentum advantage over him. And Becket is nipping at my heels!

Four salvos, Reverus told himself. His fleet just had to endure four salvos, then they’d be able to pull away from the newcomers. It would have been less, but Becket had damaged so many of his ships that he had to slow down or risk leaving half his fleet behind.

Reverus’ emotions fell further as the enemy fleet began to launch fighters. He knew what they were about to do. “Recall all our fighters!” he ordered. “I don’t care what their fuel status is. They need to intercept the attack coming from the new Imperial fleet.”

“Right away, Admiral,” Joery said. For the first time since the battle had begun, his voice shook.

He wasn’t the only one. Reverus felt it all around him. The battle had turned so quickly that all of his officers were confused and doubting themselves. Despite the gravity of his situation, Reverus’ mind went to Lvant. He knew he hadn’t allowed himself to be tricked like the Rasmorse Admiral had. Yet he felt pity for him, nonetheless. Lvant had started the war with even less battle experience than Reverus had. Against these battle-hardened Imperials, our forces don’t quite measure up. He admitted to himself. Technologically, they were the match for any Imperial ship, but the war was showing Reverus there was more to a ship’s fighting ability than the strength of its reactors or the power of its missiles.

We don’t measure up yet, Reverus corrected. For whatever forces he managed to salvage from what was about to strike, his fleet would know exactly what battle was like. Next time we will be ready, Reverus thought as his claws clenched together.

“We will focus our fire on the newcomers once they come into range,” Reverus ordered. He could continue to target Becket’s fleet and do more damage, yet then the new fleet would come out of the battle unscathed. He wanted to hurt them as much as possible and dissuade them from launching any follow-up attacks on other nearby worlds.

Leaving the final engagement with Becket’s ships in Joery’s claws, Reverus turned his full attention to the new fleet. His eyes settled on the largest ship at the center of the enemy’s formation. It was clearly a dreadnaught, but one of a larger design than any he had yet encountered. Reverus turned to Georgia. Her facial expression had lightened considerably. There was something else there as well, however. Reverus narrowed his eyes. “Your father!” he said as he read what was going on in his prisoner’s mind. “Your father is leading that fleet.”

Georgia turned around astonished. “I didn’t say that!” she replied. “And how could I possibly know anyway?”

Reverus smiled. “You speak with more than just your mouth Princess. Your species especially so. And if I wasn’t sure before, you’ve confirmed it. Thank you,” he said with a nod. “I have to treat this fleet with even more care.”

“Won’t do you any good,” Georgia said as she stood up a little straighter. “He has you right where he wants you.”

“I’m afraid he does,” Reverus admitted. “For now at least, however, this war is far from over.”

Turning from Georgia, Reverus looked back to the new fleet just in time to see it fire its first missile salvo. Two minutes later, his ships fired at them in return. Reverus watched the incoming salvo all the way until his ships began to engage it with their point defenses. At the same time, the two-and-a half thousand fighters the newcomers had launched swept his six hundred fighters aside like they weren’t even there. As he expected, Becket had also coordinated a salvo of her own to hit his fleet at the same time. Worse, like the newcomers’ salvo, behind her missiles were all the fighters she could muster.

This is going to hurt, Reverus thought as enemy missiles started to detonate. He gripped his command chair, fearful of how many were targeting Justice. With two salvos coming in from differing directions, his ships’ sensors, defense guns, and attention of his gunners had to be split. The result was that though the total strength of both enemy fleets was just marginally greater than his, their missile salvos were more deadly. It was especially so as Reverus’ fleet began evasive maneuvers to dodge the bomb-pumped laser beams trying to collide with them. With the missiles coming from two different directions, it was far harder to dodge them.

Despite the best efforts of Reverus’ fleet, the results were inevitable. All around Justice, ships began to detonate as thousands of laser beams reached out to hit them. The sudden sounding of an alarm made Reverus tighten his grip on his command chair. Instinctively, his wings unfurled to steady himself. They were needed, for two laser beams struck his flagship.

Within seconds, more alarms began to blare, reporting damage to the ship’s armor and hull. Though to Reverus’ relief, none indicated there had been a hull breach. As Justice’s pilot threw his flagship into another evasive maneuver, he was reminded the danger was only half over. For into the death and confusion caused by the laser beams flew the Imperial fighters. As Reverus turned to the holo plot to watch their progress, he was just in time to see about three hundred strange looking fighters cease their evasive maneuvers. He recognized them as Varanni fighters just as they fired a long grazer cannon that ran the length of each small craft.

In a flash, the grazer beams ripped into his capital ships. Within seconds, the fifteen hundred Imperial Hellcats that had made it close enough to release their missiles hurled three thousand more antimatter warheads at his ships. All around Justice, more of Reverus’ fleet were blown apart as they succumbed to the enemy fighters’ fire.

As the alarms were silenced one by one, and the enemy fighters pulled up and away to safety, Reverus was stunned into silence. More than four hundred warships, nearly a tenth of his remaining force, were gone. Many were destroyed outright, and the rest so severely crippled that they were no longer communicating with Justice. On the holo display, Reverus could see at least a hundred of them falling astern of his fleet. Many were spinning wildly out of control.

Though he was filled with disgust at the loss of life occurring in front of him, anger drove his next words. “Reform the fleet! I want another salvo fired at them this instant. That is the worst they will be able to hit us with. Now let’s return the favor!” He still had a numerical advantage over Emperor Somerville’s fleet, and he wanted to use it before the two Imperial forces could combine. “Come on!” he urged his battered officers. “We must hit them again.”

*

IS Victory

“They are putting up quite the fight,” Commander Seymore said over the alarms and din of Victory’s bridge.

James nodded. “That they are.” The third Protectorate salvo had just crashed into his fleet. Seventy ships had been taken out of the fight. Victory had almost been hit herself. “Even surprised, they are no push over.” Which makes our arrival all the more fortuitous, James thought. He wouldn’t have liked to have seen what the Protectorate force would have done to Becket’s fleet if he hadn’t arrived when he did.

“Their final salvo will be their long-range missiles,” Seymore said. “By all accounts, they are significantly less effective.”

“Then let’s show them what our mark VIIs can do!” James ordered. “Make our last salvo count.”

Having opened the engagement by firing first, James was able to watch his final salvo strike the Protectorates before theirs reached his ships. The mark VII missiles each disgorged three antimatter warheads just before coming into range of the Protectorate’s point defenses. Trident’s sensors counted six hundred thousand of them as they sprang upon the enemy fleet.

Whilst hundreds of thousands were shot down, over a thousand made it into attack range. They detonated within three seconds of one another, completely blinding Trident’s sensors. When they cleared, about two hundred and fifty more Protectorate ships were falling back or tumbling out of formation.

“Incoming!” one of Victory’s tactical officers shouted as the fleet opened up with its point defenses on the last enemy salvo.

Just like with James’ salvo, hundreds made it close enough to attack. Detonating, they turned their thermonuclear energy into grazer beams that covered the distance to his fleet in three seconds. Three seconds was hardly any time, but it was just enough to let every Imperial ship’s navigation officer throw their ship into an evasive maneuver. Many ships dodged the beams targeted at them, whilst others deflected much of the destructive energy with their shields. Still, hundreds of small explosions told James many ships had been hit, and at least forty larger ones signaled the death of one of his ships.

“The battle is over,” James said to his officers when the last enemy missile detonated. “Slow the fleet down so Becket can rendezvous with us,” he ordered, wanting to make sure the Protectorates wouldn’t be tempted to turn and try and engage his fleet by itself. “And begin rescue operations. We may be safe, but we have many people out there who aren’t. They need us now.”

“At once, Admiral,” Seymore responded on behalf of James’ command staff.

“And open a COM channel with Admiral Becket as soon as she is within two-way communication range,” James requested.

*

EPS Justice

After the last missiles detonated, Reverus stared out at the scene in silent horror. Over the course of his career, he had fought in a handful of very small engagements. When it came to larger battles, his experience was only of the thousands of simulated large-scale fleet battles he had fought against his peers. Never had any felt like what he had just gone through.

As both fleets cut their acceleration and let their momentum pull them apart, they left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Nearly a thousand heavily damaged and crippled warships from both sides filled the space between Somerville’s fleet and his own. Emergency COM beacons and calls for help filled his officer’s COM channels. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions of spacers lives hung in the balance.

As Reverus watched, the Imperials began to launch rescue shuttles whilst destroyers and frigates moved into the wreckage, their sensors filling space as they searched for signs of life. Reverus felt something he had only read about in historical accounts before. Survivor’s guilt. He had gone into the battle with over five thousand warships. Now just a little over three were still in formation with Justice. Half his losses were from ships that had been destroyed outright. Yet the rest were somewhere out in the midst of the carnage he was looking at. I cannot leave them, Reverus told himself. His honor wouldn’t allow it.

Half-turning, he glanced at Georgia. He wasn’t at all sure it would work. But he had to try. “Open a general COM channel towards the Imperial fleet,” he ordered his COM officer. “Let us test the things you have told me about your father,” he said to Georgia as she turned to him, surprise written on her face.

Chapter 40

The deepest of friendships can have the smallest of beginnings.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

As James waited to be connected with Admiral Becket, he checked in on Kestrel once more. To his relief, his son’s cruiser was still intact. In fact, she had suffered no damage, not being targeted at all. A small measure of good fortune, James thought to himself.

“I have Admiral Becket now, Admiral,” James’ COM officer informed him.

“Put her on the main holo display,” James requested. A wide grin spread across his face as his old friend appeared in front of him. “Admiral Becket, I can’t say how relieved I am to find your fleet largely intact. I’m sorry for the losses it suffered, but we didn’t want to give away our arrival too soon and scare them off.”

Becket shook her head. “No need to apologize, Admiral. You did exactly what I would have wanted if I had known you were there. For a couple of months now we’ve known about a powerful Eaglaton fleet moving against us. I had hoped to blunt their strength, and then pull out of the system. It seems you have helped us do even more than that.

“My fleet and I therefore owe you a great deal of thanks. Things were getting difficult there for a moment, and then you appeared as if out of thin air! You certainly haven’t lost the knack for perfect timing. You caught the Protectorates with their pants down.”

“We gave them a bloody nose,” James agreed. “Do you have any idea what their next move may be?”

“I’m not sure, Admiral,” Becket replied as she shrugged her shoulders. “We have destroyed their nearby fleet bases, so their damaged ships will have to fall back deeper into Rasmorse space. I know nothing about their supply situation though. They could have a large supply fleet in the next system, or their supply lines could already be overextended.”

James nodded. “I guess we will just have to wait and see. We can send scout squadrons to follow and see how far they retreat.”

“What about your supply situation?” Becket asked. “I knew additional warships were on their way, even a Varanni fleet. But I didn’t know you were planning on coming.”

James’s face grew somber. “There has been a development in the Karacknid civil war. Tanaka-lan has defeated one of his rivals and absorbed much of his fleet and systems. It is now only a matter of time before he gains complete control over the Karacknid Empire. He also seems to have developed some new weapons systems. Ones that allowed him to obliterate his rival. I am here because we cannot afford to waste more time and ships in this war.

“As to our supply situation, I’ve wrangled every freighter within twenty light years of Earth. Those that didn’t follow us are being loaded up and sent along behind. We can take a small break here. But if we need to, we are going to push on to the Rasmorse homeworld, and then even the Tolodon one.” James’ voice hardened as he continued. “One way or another, we are going to force these Protectorates to accept peace. For I will not allow them to kill more of our people and leave us vulnerable to the Karacknids.”

Becket slowly nodded. “That is worrying news indeed, Admiral. And if we can, I will be with you all the way to whatever systems we need to conquer. I fear we need to tread carefully, however, for we do not yet know the strength of this Eaglaton fleet. It is clear now that each of the Protectorate civilizations operates their own defense fleets. Above them, the Eaglatons then have fleets as well, consisting of slightly better warships and fighters.

“If we have just defeated the totality of the warships the Eaglatons sent to help the Rasmorse, then we may well be in a position to drive on the Rasmorse homeworld. But if there are many more ships still on their way here, we will need to be more cautious.”

Leaning forward, Becket lowered her voice. “And please, let me take this opportunity to say how sorry I am for Georgia’s loss. It is my fault. I should not have sent her on such a dangerous mission. I have been in anguish over her loss and over the hurt I have caused you.”

James held up a hand. “Thank you for your condolences, it means a lot coming from you. But I will not hear any talk of fault. Christine and I were the ones who raised Georgia to believe protecting Humanity was her responsibility. We allowed her to join the Navy. If there is any fault, it is ours. I will not have you carrying it for me.” Becket opened her mouth, clearly about to protest. “Ah,” James interrupted. “I said I will not hear of it.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Becket replied, though her face said she didn’t fully accept his words. “Then, if I may, I will take my leave. My fleet has many needs that I must see to. Especially if we are going to try and resume offensive operations in the near future. If you are willing, I would like to invite you and Jonathan for dinner on board Trident. We wouldn’t be ready for guests for another four or five hours. But it would be good to see you in person, and I’m sure you and Jonathan have much to discuss.”

James smiled. “It would be a pleasure, Admiral. Let us see to our injured and our fleets, and then we can share a meal together.”

“Admiral,” James’ COM officer said in a surprised voice before he could give Becket a salute. “We’re being hailed by the enemy flagship. The Admiral wants to speak to you directly.”

Both James’ and Becket’s eyebrows rose together as they shared their surprise with one another. “Are you sure?” James asked. “It’s not some kind of trick?”

“I.. I’m not sure, Admiral,” the COM officer said tentatively. “The message is coming from one of the enemy dreadnoughts. It’s unencrypted and has addressed you by name.”

James’ face hardened and his jaw clenched. If it was coming from the enemy fleet, then it was the enemy commander responsible for killing his daughter who wanted to speak to him. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. You came to try and force them into peace negotiations. This may be a first step, he told himself to calm his anger. “What do you think?” He asked Becket.

Becket licked her lips. “After taking Farvul’vian, I sent out a frigate with the offer of opening peace negotiations. It was rejected outright. But maybe now that we’ve hurt them, they’re willing to talk? There’s only one way to find out I guess.”

James sighed. “Then I guess I’m going to speak to this enemy commander.” He nodded to his COM officer. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Beside the image of Becket, an image of the largest Eaglaton James had yet seen appeared. He filled his command chair and then some. Compared to many species James had encountered, the Eaglatons had a slim and almost frail appearance. Yet as the enemy commander moved to get more comfortable, his tight uniform showed large muscles rippling under his feathers. As the alien spoke, he did so with a tone of respect that caught James off guard.

“Emperor Somerville, I am Admiral Reverus, commander of the Northern Fleet. I offer you my congratulations on your victory today. I confess, I believed I had Admiral Becket’s fleet trapped and soon to be destroyed. Your appearance surprised me and turned the tide of this battle. Yours and Admiral Becket’s ships fought well, as I believe mine did, too. The fighting is over for now, however. Neither of us has the strength to close and guarantee victory.

“If you would be willing to accept it, I’d like to offer a temporary ceasefire. If both our forces can search through the destruction we have caused, we may be able to save more of our people. I am sure there are many who do not have long to live on their damaged ships unless we can come to their aid quickly.

“If you accept, I give you my word my ships will not fire upon yours. We can agree on however long a period you believe will be necessary to complete rescue operations. Then hostilities can resume.” Reverus bowed slightly to James. “I await your response,” he said before the message ended.

James shook his head. A temporary ceasefire was the last thing he had been expecting. He turned back to Becket. “Well? What do you make of that?”

“It’s an opening, Emperor,” Becket answered. “And it’s pretty audacious. We have won this battle. The battlefield is ours to do with as we please. But it is an opening. I say we accept. Since this war began, the Protectorates have been claiming we are evil conquerors. Perhaps working together may finally allow us to dispel some of their misconceptions.”

“An opening indeed,” James said thoughtfully. After twenty years of peace, he had grown far more used to the politicking that came second nature to his wife. “And it gives us some leverage. We have something he wants. Perhaps we can use it.” He turned to his COM officer. “Record and transmit this.”

Taking a moment, James made sure his uniform was straight and then nodded to his COM officer. “Admiral Reverus. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. However, I am sorry it is under such circumstances. My people, nor our allies, had any desire to go to war with your Protectorate. Yet because of your people’s attacks, I’ve been forced to defend what my people and our allies have built.

“Your offer is a fair one. We both have many crippled ships and stranded crew to look after. I am therefore happy to accept. I have one further condition, however. As well as a temporary ceasefire to allow us to recover our people, I would like to extend it for at least two days so that we could hold some negotiations between one another, face to face.

“None of my Admirals, nor political advisers, understand why this war was started. Despite what your fleets have done to my Navy, I would like to see this war ended peacefully, if possible. If you agree to sit down to negotiations with me and my subordinates, then I will happily allow your rescue crews to take your people from their stricken ships.” With a hand gesture, James signaled his COM officer to finish recording.

“An interesting offer,” Becket commented. “Do you think he will take it?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “If they are as honorable as they claim, then what have they to fear from meeting us face to face? Surely that would be worth it to rescue their own people?”

Before Becket could reply, another message came from Reverus. “Emperor, I am not sure what a prolonged ceasefire would accomplish for my forces. I understand your ships would like as much time as possible to effect repairs and bring up fresh supplies from your distant wormhole. Giving you that time would not be in my strategic interest. I confess, I do greatly wish to be able to rescue my people, but I cannot do so if it will put more of my people in harm’s way in the future.”

James smiled at the response, for he understood it well. “It seems this Reverus is as skilled in politics as in battle,” he said to Becket and his officers.

“I’m not sure I understand, Admiral,” Becket responded.

“He didn’t reject us outright; rather, he is trying to negotiate a better deal.” James nodded as much to himself as anyone else. “That is good, it means they are open to compromise. That is something the Karacknids would never even entertain. All right then, let’s give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

With a hand gesture, James told his COM officer to begin recording again. “I understand your concerns, Admiral Reverus. Perhaps, I can lay them to rest. It is my understanding that my fleets have captured many of your people over the last months. Thousands in fact. As part of these peace negotiations, I would be happy to arrange a prisoner swap. We would be willing to hand over all of your people, holding a rank lower than Captain for however many of our people you have captured. I believe we have far more of your people than you have of ours. That would be a favorable deal, would it not? As for higher rank individuals, we can then discuss additional swaps during our negotiations.

“In addition,” James continued, glancing at Becket for he knew she wasn’t going to like what came next. “I am willing to offer you Farvul’vian as an opening gift to begin our negotiations. My fleet will leave the planet’s orbitals, and your fleet may approach. I’m sure the colony has far better medical facilities to look after the wounded you recover from the battlefield.”

“Admiral,” Becket said as soon as James finished recording. She spoke in a measured tone, clearly hiding her true emotions. “Tens of thousands of my people died to take and then hold onto the colony.”

James nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. But think about it strategically. You’ve already destroyed all of the colonies’ military stations. Giving it to them will not help them resupply or repair their damaged warships. In fact, it will just give them another system they have to defend. If the negotiations still go against us, we can pull back to our own supply fleet and then strike at any one of their worlds we wish. If we want, we can even move in and trap Reverus’ fleet at Farvul’vian.”

Becket pursed her lips together. It was clear she didn’t like it even after James’ explanation. Yet she didn’t protest further.

When the next message came in from Reverus, he was standing, putting his full body on display. James’ eyes went to the claws at the end of his scaly legs. They look razor-sharp and deadly. The Eaglaton’s tone contrasted sharply with his appearance, however. “Emperor, your offer is indeed a surprise. The exchange of prisoners is generous, the giving of Farvul’vian even more so. Though it makes me suspect you do not believe you have the ships or the supplies to hold it further. Even if that be the case, I have a duty to my people and to my allies’ world. I therefore accept your offer gladly. It should take no more than twelve hours for us to recover our crews and ships. After that, I propose we hold a four-day ceasefire where we can discuss this war and the additional prisoner swaps you have in mind. Thank you for your generosity.”

“I accept,” James said in reply, pleasantly surprised Reverus had extended his initial offer of two days to four. Handing over Farvul’vian had clearly made an impression. “I look forward to meeting you in person, Admiral.”

When the message was sent, he turned to Becket. “This is not how I expected this day to end.”

“Nor I, Admiral. I just hope some good can come of it,” Becket replied.

“As do I, as do I,” James said. His mind was already racing through tens of different possibilities. There was much he wished to ask Reverus, and many truths he wanted to share with the enemy Admiral. The question was, how best could he go about it? Becket and his officers refocused on rescuing as many of the people as they could, though at the same time, they all kept a very close eye on the Protectorate’s shuttles and frigates that moved onto the battlefield. Leaving them to it, James devoted all his efforts into planning for the upcoming talks. For though he knew the possibility was a long shot in the extreme. If he could end the war now, it could save his people from untold hurt at the hands of the Karacknids in the future.

*

EPS Justice

After the last message came through from Emperor Somerville, Reverus turned to his daughter. “You showed a great deal of restraint not speaking up. I presume your father believes you dead.”

“Would you have transmitted any message I tried to speak in?” Georgia asked.

Reverus parted his beak in a smile and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”

“So then, are you surprised?” Georgia asked. “Is he not the man I told you he was? He has given you your colony for free. And he is allowing you to rescue your people. In exchange, all he wants to do is talk. Does that sound like the actions of a bloodthirsty conqueror?”

“On the surface, he does indeed sound like the man you have told me about,” Reverus admitted. “But I am still far from convinced. Pulling back from Farvul’vian may be as much a tactical decision as a goodwill offering. But for now, I will accept it at face value. I guess we will just have to see how these negotiations progress.” Reverus smiled at Georgia again. “At least I know I will have one surprise for him when we meet face to face.”

Though Georgia suspected Reverus was going to wrangle every concession he could get out of her father before giving her back, she couldn’t help but smile. At the very least, her father was going to learn she was alive. Even if he couldn’t negotiate her release, she’d happily spend the rest of the war in Eaglaton custody knowing her family weren’t mourning her.

Chapter 41

One should always choose their friends and their enemies wisely. Either can make or break a career, or even an Empire.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Victory, 13th July 2510 AD.

Exactly twelve hours after their last direct communication, James walked into the private meeting room he had chosen for the meeting. Accompanying him was Deborah Nicholls, his civilian Chief of Staff, Admiral Becket, Admiral Shraw and Admiral Maleck. There had been much debate about who to bring. James had wanted to bring as diverse a group as possible to show Admiral Reverus that Humanity’s allies were indeed allies, and not slaves. Nicholls had argued against it, insisting Reverus wouldn’t be as impressed if he was overwhelmed with people. Eventually, they had settled on Maleck to represent the Varanni Alliance and Shraw the Conclave species.

Once they took their seats on one side of the oval table in the center of the room, James met each of their eyes and nodded or smiled. Then they all turned to face the door opposite them through which Reverus and his delegation would come. They waited in silence, each filled with their own thoughts. For his part, James couldn’t help wishing Christine was with him. He was certain she would handle the situation far better than he. He might put his foot in it, whereas she would be able to perceive exactly what needed to be said to appease Reverus, or even pierce through the lies he had been told.

You’ll just have to do your best, he told himself, as he tried to remember all the rules and tips Christine had taught him over the years. He knew he had come far from the gullible Admiral whose hand had been twisted into becoming Emperor. He just hoped he had come far enough!

When the second door into the meeting room slid open, Captain McMasters, Victory’s Captain, raised a hand and gestured for his guests to enter. “Emperor Somerville and his delegation await you, Admiral.”

A strange sounding, high-pitched voice replied, which was then translated by the Kulrean translator McMasters was carrying. “Thank you for your greeting and hospitality, Captain. You have an impressive ship.” McMasters bowed to Reverus and then backed away.

As the Eaglaton Admiral led his delegation into the room, James and his delegation stood to receive them. For a second, James forgot to speak. He was so taken aback by Reverus’ appearance that it took him a second to remember the lines he had prepared. Elegant was the only word he could find to describe the bird-like alien as he all but glided into the room.

“Admiral Reverus,” James quickly said as he gave the Eaglaton a deep bow. “Let me add my welcome to that of my Flag Captain’s. I am very glad we are able to meet like this.”

Reverus returned the bow. “And despite the circumstances our two civilizations find themselves in, I am honored to be able to speak with you, Emperor.”

“Please take a seat and we can begin with introductions,” James said as he gestured towards the row of seats facing his delegation. Though his fleets had taken many Protectorate prisoners, they hadn’t yet captured any Eaglatons. Even so, an examination of several bodies recovered from his son’s battle with two Eaglaton ships near the Gift wormhole had allowed James’ engineers to have a guess at what kind of seat they might find comfortable. “I hope they are to your liking,” James said. “If not, we can have new ones designed to whatever specification you like for next time.”

Reverus paused beside one, looked at it for a moment, and then spread his wings before sitting. “It is quite satisfactory, Emperor,” he said.

As he spoke, the rest of Reverus’ delegation filed in. James was surprised when only two other Eaglatons followed him. Clearly, Reverus was confident in his own ability to handle the negotiations, no matter what direction they took.

James’ assessment of his opponents ceased the moment the fourth person stepped into the meeting room. Shock flashed across his face. Then it turned to pure joy as tears formed on his cheeks, and the widest grin of his life split his teeth. “Georgia!” He cried. Without realizing, he had rounded the oval table and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. Her body melted into his.

Hardly believing she was real, he had to hold her out at arm’s length after just a couple of seconds. “It is you, isn’t it? You are alive!”

Georgia smiled as tears ran down her cheeks too. “It is me, dad. I am alive. I ejected before my Hellcat was destroyed. The Eaglatons picked me up and I’ve been a prisoner ever since.”

James frowned and his eyes ran up and down his daughter. “You are well? Have they treated you ok?” If they hadn’t, he was ready to turn on Reverus at once.

“More than okay,” Georgia said as she nodded.

Grinning again, James pulled her into another hug. “Your mother is going to be so happy. It broke me hearing the news. I almost couldn’t come through the Gift knowing she would find out back on Earth without me there,” he said gently into her ear.

“Don’t worry, you can get news to her quickly,” Georgia replied. Her body stiffened. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “I have spent a lot of time with Reverus. He is an honorable leader. I think his species is too. They are at war with us because they think it is the right thing to do. Because he genuinely believes we are a threat. Show him we are not who he thinks we are, and this pointless war could end here and now.”

James nodded as he held his daughter. “I’ll try. Thank you.” Though he knew he needed to focus on the negotiations. James struggled to let go of Georgia. It was a miracle to have her back. He felt he never wanted to let her out of his sight again.

Eventually, she squeezed out of his embrace. Then, after giving him an apologetic look, she moved over to stand behind Reverus. James was confused for a moment, before remembering she was an Eaglaton prisoner. Clearly, she had agreed to do Reverus’ bidding for the chance to come and see him. That’s ok, James said to himself, she is alive, that’s all that matters.

“Thank you for bringing Georgia,” James said as he gave Reverus another bow. “You have done me a service I cannot repay.”

Reverus’ beak parted. “I am a father too, Emperor, so I understand some of what you have gone through if you believed Georgia dead. You have my word; she has been treated well.”

“And I thank you for that,” James replied.

Turning to Georgia, Reverus gestured with a winged claw for her to move over to one of the free seats on James’ side of the table. “And as for the service you speak of, you have already returned Farvul’vian to me. Its people are worth far more than the life of one individual, even if she is a princess. And so, I am happy to return your daughter to you. Consider her a gift in response to your gift of Farvul’vian.”

James was shocked for the second time in only a couple of minutes. The moment Georgia had stepped behind Reverus, his mind had begun to worry about just what concessions Reverus might demand for her safe return. And about just how far he’d be willing to go to get his daughter back. Now he was getting her back for free! He couldn’t help but grin at Georgia again.

For her part, Georgia looked just as surprised. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to Reverus. The Eaglaton Admiral gestured towards the seat the second time. “I have enjoyed our chats, but I’m afraid they have come to an end. You are free now.”

Georgia gave Reverus as deep a bow as James had seen her give anyone before. Clearly, he has made an impression on her, he thought. James made a mental note of that, for he knew his daughter wasn’t easily impressed. If she had come to respect Reverus, it gave him a lot more hope for the discussion they were about to have. After bowing, Georgia made her way around to the free seat on James’ side of the table. As she passed him, she squeezed his shoulder, and he smiled up at her.

Turning back to Reverus, James cleared his throat. “You have given me a gift I can never repay Admiral. My daughter back from the dead and now free. If ever I can return the favor, I will. I hope now this may be the beginning of cooperation and even friendship between our two great civilizations.”

“I am happy to release your daughter to you,” Reverus said. “But I would not want you getting your hopes up. Before we come to the many disagreements between us however, I do wish to thank you for all the help your people were in aiding our rescue efforts. And in returning those you took off our ships.”

“You are more than welcome,” James replied. “With our proximity to the battlefield, our rescue teams were able to get there sooner. My people have no desire to see any of yours suffer or die needlessly. Now, let me introduce my compatriots.”

One by one, James introduced Nicholls, Becket, Shraw, and Maleck. Each took a moment to speak to Reverus, and then the Eaglaton introduced his two companions. “This is Vice Admiral Garns and Rear Admiral Samnes, they are my two immediate subordinates.”

James gave each a small bow. “You are both welcome on-board Victory, Admirals.”

“We are honored to be here,” Garns said and Samnes nodded.

They both then fell into silence. James hesitated for a moment in case Reverus wished to officially begin the negotiations. When he didn’t speak, James took a deep breath. “I was the one who requested these negotiations. Let me start us off. From our perspective,” James said as he waved a hand towards Shraw and Maleck to signal he was including Humanity’s allies, “we have been attacked for no reason. We have shown no hostility to any of the Protectorate’s civilizations, nor indeed any of your neighbors.

“For three decades, we have been working together to confront the Karacknid threat. A threat that I would point out, would be on your doorsteps by now if we had not stood up against it. And yet, despite our lack of hostility, your allies have invaded our systems, attacked our fleets, and tried to close down the wormhole that links our alliance together. If you are willing, I would like to understand the reasoning for the hostility you have shown us.”

“Straight to the point, Emperor, I like that,” Reverus said as his beak bobbed up and down. “I believe your people have had this explained to them already, but I will repeat it, if explanation is needed. We know what your Empire is. You have conquered your neighbors and forced the civilizations in this sector you call your allies to fight for you. The Eaglaton Protectorate stands for the freedom of every sentient species. We will therefore not allow you or the Karacknids to enslave others. Our war is one of liberation.”

James shook his head; the negotiations had only just begun and already he was fighting to keep his cool. “If you truly believe that Admiral, then I’m afraid you are badly misinformed. Look around you, do Admirals Shraw and Maleck look like slaves to you?”

“We are most certainly not!” Shraw said forcefully. “As I said to your Admiral Lvant at Bastion, I was the senior commander of my people’s Navy when we first met the Humans, and I remain so today. I have fought side by side with them as they have defended my people’s systems against the Karacknids. We are no more their slaves than the Rasmorse are yours.”

“And the same is true of the species of the Varanni Alliance,” Maleck insisted. “We are a partnership between six civilizations who have worked together long before we met Humanity. When we did, there was no hostility between us. In fact, Emperor Somerville, who was then an Admiral, willingly risked his life to aid us. Our friendship has only grown from there. The same is true for the Mindus and Vestarians who are also our neighbors.”

“I do not doubt the sincerity with which you speak,” Reverus responded. “But how can I know this is the true sentiment of your populations? You fight alongside the Humans, which means you have a vested interest in keeping the status quo in place. Yet those on your worlds who are not so lucky likely do not agree with you. We wish to free all the people of the neighboring civilizations that have come under Humanity’s sway. Not just the leaders who have been allowed to keep their positions.”

Beside James, Shraw stirred. His tongue flicked back and forth from his mouth and his lips peeled back slightly, revealing more of his razor-sharp teeth. James reached a hand over and squeezed his friend’s scaly arm. Shraw was a hunter and a fighter, and though he was cunning enough to take on even the slyest politician, James knew he didn’t like being called a liar.

“So then, would it not make sense to corroborate what these leaders are saying to you before you resume your war against us?” James asked quickly to move the conversation on. “Hundreds of thousands have already died. You have already said you are aware of the Karacknid threat. We are both wasting people and ships that may soon be needed to fight against them.” James glanced at Maleck and Shraw. “I think I speak for both the Varanni Alliance and the Conclave species when I say we would happily allow diplomatic delegations from your Protectorate to visit our worlds. You can ask whatever questions you wish, carry out whatever investigations are necessary to see that we are not lying. In these matters, we have nothing to hide.”

“Your words are noble, and your offer an intriguing one,” Reverus said. “But how can I not be sure it is a delaying tactic? I know most of your strength is still on the other side of your wormhole. These delegations would allow you to bring as many ships as you want through the wormhole in preparation for an invasion. After all, it was in a warship that your species first made contact with ours. And are we not speaking in a Rasmorse system which you have invaded and ravaged, along with a number of others?”

James let out a slow breath to calm himself before replying. “You are a naval commander and a strategist. What else would you have had us do? We were attacked out of nowhere by unknown enemies. All we have done in this war is seek to defend ourselves and prevent your Protectorate from being able to launch any more invasions into our allies’ space. Isn’t that what you are claiming is the pretext for your own aggression? You can hardly complain when we act the same way in return.”

“No, I do not blame your military for this war,” Reverus said. “I am just pointing out that when poked, your people responded exactly how one would expect a civilization built on conquest to. One that we are therefore honor-bound to defeat.”

This isn’t working, James said to himself. He needed to listen to Georgia and try a different tack. “How much do you know of our war with the Karacknids?” he decided to ask to try and cool the conversation down.

“Not much,” Reverus responded. “Just that you fought them here on this side of your wormhole and in your home systems as well. And that after a number of years and deadly battles, you managed to attack their homeworld and kill their Imperator. From what I do know, you are an impressive commander in your own right, Emperor.”

James nodded. “But did you know the Karacknids completely conquered one of our neighbors, the Mindus. And that they invaded and occupied several of our worlds and worlds in the Varanni Alliance, killing hundreds of thousands of civilians. And that they tried to conquer my homeworld, and when they failed, they nuked the planet, killing over a hundred million of my people?”

James didn’t wait for Reverus to answer, nor did he try to hide his anger. “I have lost many friends to the Karacknids, and my entire species lives with the threat of conquest, enslavement, and even annihilation. Can you not understand why we might react so strongly to a new threat that would attack us and so weaken our defenses against the Karacknids?”

“I confess, I did not know about your homeworld,” Reverus said. “For that I am sorry. Yet just because you have been attacked by an evil civilization, does not cover over the wrong you yourselves have done. I do not expect you could ever accept such an offer, but if you were willing to submit to our Protectorate and join it, renouncing your conquests, we would gladly protect you from the Karacknids.”

James wanted to laugh. He did his best to keep his face straight as he spoke, however. “From where I am sitting, that sounds no different than simply surrendering to the Karacknids. It is clear you have known of us before my son discovered Farvul’vian and your Protectorate. And yet, you kept yourselves hidden until you were ready to attack us. Can you not see that from our perspective, your actions appear only nefarious?”

“I concede, I understand how they may appear to you,” Reverus said. “But let me assure you, we are only acting in the best interest of our neighbors. For yes, while we learned of your species some time ago, we have known about the Karacknids for far longer. My entire life has been spent preparing to face them and defend our northern sector from them. In time, I am confident we will defeat them and liberate all the species in their Empire. At the moment however, the worlds you have conquered stand in our way.”

James sat back in his seat. He tried and failed to keep the surprise from his face. Reverus wasn’t just talking about defending himself from the Karacknids, he was talking about taking over their entire Empire! How many ships do they have? James asked himself, suddenly afraid that the fleet he had just defeated was nothing more than a vanguard.

“You do not seriously think you can defeat the Karacknids by yourself?” Shraw asked, voicing James’ thoughts. “We have been preparing for twenty years, and we know our hope does not lie in taking all their systems.”

Reverus sat up a little straighter in his command chair. “The Eaglaton Protectorate is sworn to protect all the species in our alliance and those neighbors who wish our help. Though they cannot speak for themselves, we are certain that many, if not all, of the species under the Karacknids’ rule wish for freedom. It is our responsibility to give it to them. We will therefore expend any and all effort to accomplish this.”

As he spoke, James felt like he was seeing Reverus for the first time. So far, he had been treating the alien as an adversary. As one who had launched a war of aggression against his people. You need to understand your adversary, what he believes about himself and what motivates him, James said to himself, repeating something Christine had drummed into him many times.

“And we are in your way,” James said. “Blocking your species from their noble task?”

Reverus nodded. “In part, and then also, as I have said, your species exhibits the same malevolent practices we wish to prevent the Karacknids from continuing with.”

“It seems then, from what you’re saying, that in actual fact, our two species. Or rather, our two alliances, are very much aligned,” James replied. “Whether you wish to believe it or not, all of our species value freedom and the rights of the individual. We are both agreed that the Karacknid Empire needs to be defeated. Yet instead of friends, you have made us your enemies. Why do you not believe us when we tell you we share the same values? On what basis has your Protectorate deemed us to be these conquerors you think we are, despite the evidence in our fleet and in front of you that we are not?”

Reverus glanced at Georgia and flashed her a smile. “You present many of the same arguments your daughter has, Emperor. The means and methods of the Eaglaton Intelligence Service are not things I am at liberty to discuss. Suffice to say however, that the truths I know about your species come from reliable sources.”

“And yet they cannot, for they are untrue,” James said as he shook his head again. “I do not understand how you can be so right about the Karacknids, and so wrong about us. Until today, I thought these lies about us were spread by your leadership to motivate your people for war. Yet I see it in your eyes that you believe them as well. Would you not even be open to considering the possibility that these intelligence reports are wrong?”

“I have served in my species’ Navy for sixty years,” Reverus replied. “In all that time, I have never seen an intelligence failure that would come close to the magnitude of the one that would have to be the case if you really are who you say you are. I am afraid I simply cannot believe that possible.”

James pushed himself back in his command chair and let out a deflated breath. Reverus wasn’t quite a fanatic, but he believed he was fighting for a righteous cause. He knew from experience, even his own experience, it was very hard to change such a person’s mind. Hard, but not impossible, Christine’s voice chastised him. James mentally nodded. It was time to try changing the subject again. His only hope was to chip away at Reverus little by little.

“I think I understand you and your motives much better, Admiral,” James said. “That was in part what I wished from this parley. But I fear that in these matters we are at an impasse, at least for the moment. Perhaps it would be wise to move on and discuss other issues that are before us.”

Reverus bowed slightly. “If that is your wish, Emperor. I too do not see this line of discussion advancing further today.”

Glancing at Nicholls, James gestured for her to hand him her datapad. She had a number of issues they had agreed to try and broach with Reverus and his delegation. At the top was the issue of the prisoner exchange that had already been agreed in principle. Beginning there, James began to work his way through the items, at times handing some off to Nicholls, Becket, Shraw, or Maleck. As they worked through each, James sought to put a slightly different slant on them than had initially been intended. He emphasized how each showed Humanity to be more than just a race of conquerors. As best he could, James tried to show Reverus how they were in fact, as Georgia had advised; honorable.

After agreeing how each side would hand over the prisoners they had within the system, and those held in other systems, the negotiations moved on to the prisoners ranked Captain and above. Though James had five times as many ranked officers, including a Rear Admiral, he happily agreed to swap them for the five Imperial Captains the Protectorates had captured.

The discussion then moved on to agreeing upon common terms of surrender for when a warship wished to end a battle. Next was the treatment of future prisoners, and the possibility of future prisoner exchanges. They also touched on the use of civilian ships and the targeting of civilian stations. That point proved more contentious than the previous ones. Given how much damage Admiral Becket’s fleet had done throughout Rasmorse space, James wasn’t surprised. Though as he pointed out to Reverus, they only destroyed Rasmorse stations that could be used in their war effort against Humanity and its allies.

Reverus then complained about Becket’s use of Farvul’vian’s stations as cover in their battle. Yet Becket pointed out that the stations had been completely abandoned. And that it had been Admiral Lvant who had armed most of them to aid his defense of the system before he had left to rush to Genese.

When he had just one item left on his agenda, James opened it up to Reverus to bring up any issues he wished. The Eaglaton shook his head. “I have none, Emperor. We have discussed the main matters that concerned me. Though we have some details still to work out, I am confident by the end of these four days we will have done so. Then we will return to settling our differences on the field of battle.”

James hid a grimace. Reverus clearly still had his heart on driving James’ fleet from the system the moment the ceasefire ended. Baby steps, James said to himself. He then turned to the final issue on his list. They had three more days of the ceasefire, and he wanted to get as much use out of them as possible. Surprisingly, as he broached the subject of further meetings and even sub-meetings where specialists from each side might meet to discuss certain topics, Reverus was all too happy to agree to everything. He wants to milk as much information out of us as possible, James thought. He was fine with that though. For the more the Eaglatons learned, the more he hoped they would realize they had misjudged Humanity.

“Well then, I believe that concludes everything I wish to discuss,” James said. “It has been a long session and we have broached many topics. I’m sure you’d like to retire, Admiral. We can meet again and see what progress we can make tomorrow.”

“That is acceptable with me,” Reverus replied. “It has been a pleasure, Emperor. If nothing else, my respect for you has grown. Though that will not make me hesitate when our ceasefire ends.”

James smiled at Reverus. “The feeling is mutual,” he said. “I now know I am facing a worthy adversary. It is just a pity we are not on the same side.”

Reverus smiled back. “Perhaps one day, Admiral. When you renounce your title and your people renounce their ways, our two species may yet work together.”

James wanted to roll his eyes. He nodded instead and smiled again. “We shall see Admiral.” He leant forward in his chair to stand and bow, but a thought made him stop. “There is one more thing,” he said as he turned back to Reverus. He had debated whether or not to reveal this piece of information to the Eaglaton Admiral, for it would give his adversary encouragement to press his attack. Yet now that James had seen Reverus’ confidence in person, he doubted it would really add to the Admiral’s desire to ‘liberate’ James’ allies’ worlds. It might, however, give him pause for thought, James hoped.

“And what is that, Emperor?” Reverus asked as he leant forward in his chair.

“The Karacknid Civil War, I have strong evidence that it will soon come to an end. Tanaka-lan has defeated one of the other contenders. He has taken most of his forces and worlds, and will undoubtedly press his advantage against his final rival and seek complete control over the Karacknid Empire. When he has accomplished that, I am certain he will turn his attentions towards my people, and now by extension, yours as well.”

“And just how do you know of all this?” Reverus asked, his posture telling James he wasn’t at all convinced.

“Have you encountered the Kalassai?” James asked.

Reverus looked away for a moment and his face screwed up a little. When he looked back, he was nodding. “Yes, I believe I have. A nomadic species who traverse through the systems to the northeast of our borders. We haven’t directly encountered them before, but we know of them through trading partners. They haven’t been seen for two decades. Though given how secretive they are said to be, that may not be so surprising.”

“They are secretive,” James agreed. “But that is not why they have not been sighted. They joined us in our war against the Karacknids, and were vital in helping us achieve victory. As a gift, the Varanni Alliance gave the Kalassai a new homeworld on the other side of the wormhole. However, they still know many secret shift passages through Karacknid space, and have been spying on them ever since. One of their scouts witnessed the last stages of the battle. Of particular concern from their report were the new weapons Tanaka-lan used. Weapons far more powerful than anything my species possesses, and more powerful than anything we have seen from your fleets.”

Reverus brought a wing up and rubbed his beak. “If true, that would be concerning. I’ve every confidence the Eaglaton Protectorate could still rebuff any Karacknid attack on our worlds. Yet we would like to have more time to prepare for such a conflict.”

“And if these new weapon reports are true, they may even alter your estimation of the balances of forces,” James pointed out. “If you like, I would be willing to share the Kalassai intelligence with you.”

Reverus nodded. “I would like to see that,” he said. “Though,” he continued more slowly. “I am not saying I would accept its provenance.”

“I will make sure it is sent over to you,” James said. “You may judge its worth for yourself.” Standing, James bowed deeply to Reverus. “It has been a pleasure and an honor, Admiral. Until tomorrow.”

Reverus and his two Admirals stood as well and bowed back. “Until tomorrow, Emperor,” Reverus replied.

Without needing to be called, Captain McMasters reappeared. “This way, Admiral, I will escort you back to your shuttle,” Victory’s Captain said.

The moment the door slid shut behind Reverus and his two Admirals, James let out a deep breath and turned to his friends. The looks on their faces told him what he already knew; though the meeting had been long and weary, it was far from over yet, for they now had much to discuss between themselves. The one relief that brought him joy was that Georgia would be involved. That was far, far more than he could ever have hoped for just a couple of hours ago.

Chapter 42

The bonds of family, friendship and cultural ties are what hold our Empire and our system of alliances together. A Captain would do well to do whatever she can to maintain these in her personal and professional life.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Victory

An hour after finishing up with his delegation, James retired to his personal quarters with Georgia. As soon as they were alone, he couldn’t help pulling her into another hug. “You have no idea how happy I am,” he said to her. “I don’t know how I am ever going to let you get in another fighter again.”

“I understand dad,” Georgia said as she hugged him back. “I’m not in any particular rush to get back in one myself. But if the fighting is going to recommence, then I can’t sit back and watch my friends risk their lives alone.”

“Emperor, I have your dinner ready for…,” Fox, James’ personal steward, said as he poked his head into James’ quarters. His voice cut off when he saw James embracing a young woman. “I am sorry, Emperor. I should not have disturbed…” He cut off again when James and Georgia broke apart and he saw who it was. “Georgia! It is you!” Fox exclaimed as he rushed into the room and pulled Georgia into another hug.

James couldn’t help laughing at Georgia’s surprise. Fox had been his steward from before the Karacknid War. After the war, he had transferred to the Palace to continue his role. His responsibilities had quickly expanded as he and Christine’s sons and daughters had come along. Though normally too reserved to show his emotions, James and Christine had always seen him as part of the family. As Georgia’s surprise disappeared and she hugged him back, he knew his daughter thought the same.

“I am sorry for worrying you, Arthur,” she said as they stepped apart. She then smiled as Fox blushed. “But I am glad to see you too.”

Fox shook his head. “How? What happened?”

“She ejected and was taken prisoner,” James answered. “You know as much as I do. I was hoping she would fill me in with the rest of the details over a meal. I’ve already sent word for Jonathan to join us. How would you like to set out four places and we can all hear her story?”

“Four?” Fox asked.

James smiled and nodded. “This will be a family reunion. I think we’d like you to be eating with us and not just serving.”

Fox looked at Georgia and smiled. “I’d like that, Sir; I’ll get right on it.” Without waiting, Fox spun and rushed out of the room.

Moments later, a chime came from one of the other doors into James’ quarters. “That will be Jonathan,” he said to Georgia. “He’s going to be just as surprised!”

“Then let’s have a little fun, shall we?” Georgia said as she moved into a corner of his quarters hidden from the doorway.

James shook his head, but he didn’t tell her to come out. “Enter,” he called instead.

The door slid open at his command and Jonathan stepped in. James couldn’t help but frown at the appearance of his son. He looked weary and disheveled. From the reports he had briefly been able to read, he knew his son had been pushed hard over the last couple of weeks, but there was clearly more to it. That will soon change, James thought as he smiled at his son despite his appearance. “Come here,” he said as he wrapped his arms around his oldest son. “You have become quite the warrior in my absence!”

“I am sorry, father,” Jonathan said as they embraced. “I was the one out here. I was responsible for her.”

“Don’t be silly,” James said sternly as he held his son at arm’s length. “You are the Captain of a cruiser. That is all you are responsible for.” He lightened his tone considerably. “And besides, I have a young lady here who wishes to see you. She thinks she can cheer you up. And by the looks of you, that’s just what you need.”

James couldn’t help grinning as confusion and shock at his words spread across Jonathan’s face. “That’s right, you big lug!” Georgia said, mockingly matching the same tone James had used. “I am a grown woman now. You are not responsible for me!”

Jonathan’s confusion turned to surprise and then delight as he rushed over and scooped Georgia into a hug. “She ejected and was captured by the Eaglatons,” James explained when Jonathan finally let go of his sister and looked back and forth between them, a questioning look on his face. “Admiral Reverus brought her over and released her at our meeting.”

Jonathan moved over to a seat and sat down. He shook his head even as he continued to grin at Georgia. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. I thought you were dead for sure.” His head then spun back to James. “What about mum? And Edward and Rachel? They will still think she is dead.”

“I have sent a fast frigate back to Earth already with news of our battle and our ceasefire,” James explained. “It will likely arrive in a couple of weeks after the news of Georgia’s death reaches them, but that is the best I can do.”

Jonathan nodded. “All these weeks I’ve been thinking about how devastated you and mum will be. And about Edward, especially. It will be a tough two weeks.”

“It will,” James agreed. “But at least it will only be temporary.” He moved beside Georgia and put an arm around her shoulder, hugging her again. “And it will make us appreciate this rascal all the more. And each other as well.”

“Just think how cross mum will be with you,” Jonathan said to Georgia with a smile. “She’ll not know whether to spank you till you can’t sit down, or hug you to death when she sees you again.”

Georgia smiled. “I’ll be happy just to see her. I’m still shocked Reverus released me. I was sure he was going to use me as a bargaining chip.”

James nodded. Just as he was about to start asking her about it however, Fox poked his head back in. “Dinner is ready, Admiral. I have four places set.”

“Excellent,” James said as he let Georgia go. “Let’s go and enjoy ourselves.”

For nearly an hour, the four of them ate and talked about old times together. James spent most of the meal with a smile on his face. It was like having all his family together again. Having Georgia back from the dead was a miracle he had never expected. Though no one said it wasn’t allowed, no mention was made of the war or Georgia’s capture. It was as if they had all decided separately to simply enjoy being together. After the mad rush from Earth to Farvul’vian, and then the battle and the aftermath, James was very pleased to be able to enjoy a few moments where it felt like there wasn’t a massive weight on his shoulders.

After dessert was cleared away and coffee brought out, the mood changed. Everyone sensed it. Jonathan was the first to speak. After taking a quick sip, he turned to Georgia. “So,” he said dramatically. “Tell us everything. What was it like? What are they like?”

In silence, they listened to Georgia as she recounted her story from the end of the battle with the Eaglaton fighters where she had thought she was about to die. To her time on the Eaglaton carrier, and then on Reverus’ flagship. When she was done, James and Jonathan had a number of questions.

After his son had asked several, James came to his most important one. “You maybe understand our enemy better than anyone else now,” he said to Georgia. “So tell me, do you really think they believe all this honor stuff they keep talking about?”

Georgia took a moment before answering. When her eyes darted to James, she nodded. “I didn’t think so at first. At least, I didn’t want to. I kept thinking they were trying to trick me into believing it. But I got to spend some time with a couple of junior officers, as well as Reverus and a couple of his subordinates. They were all singing off the same hymn sheet, and they believed it.”

James shook his head. “That means this war is pointless. They think they’re fighting a just war against us, and we believe we are justly defending ourselves.”

“But it gives us hope,” Georgia said, her tone not dropping like James’. “If we can show them who we really are, then maybe this war can be brought to an end before more people have to die.”

“I wish it were that simple,” James said sadly. “In time, yes, I think we can convince them. Or at least, their intelligence division will eventually start to see us for who we really are. The problem is blood has already been spilled. And time is not something we have. We cannot lose the wormhole. It gives us our biggest strategic advantage over the Karacknids. With it, we can hit two sections of their border that are three thousand light years apart. And we cannot abandon our allies here.”

“And now that we’ve hit their worlds,” Jonathan said, finishing James’ thought for him. “They will see us as an immediate threat that they must put an end to.”

James nodded. “In three days, this war is going to resume, and both sides are going to be fighting thinking they hold the moral high ground. The best aspects of both our species are what is going to force us to fight on.”

“Then we need to make the most of these three days,” Georgia insisted. “I’ve had many conversations with Reverus over the last month. He is more open to questioning what he has been told, I can feel it. There are cracks in his worldview. Cracks you widened, Dad when you gave him back Farvul’vian. Cracks we can press upon.”

“You want to be a part of the negotiations?” James asked, easily reading the passion in her eyes.

Georgia nodded. “If there is a place for me. I know I’m not a skilled politician. But you said it yourself, I know them best. Even if I’m only advising our own people, I think I can help.”

“Then I’m sure I can find a place for you,” James said. “And if nothing else, your enthusiasm will be a great help,” he added with a smile that hid what else he was thinking. He hoped his daughter was right, but he couldn’t bank on it. He needed to prepare his fleet for hostilities to resume.

*

EPS Justice, 14th July 2510 AD, (one day later).

Reverus spent much of the day after his first meeting with Emperor Somerville alone. He wanted to be able to go over their conversation without distraction. Three times he ran it back in his mind, trying to better understand his adversary. Only when he was certain there was nothing more he could learn, did he turn to the fresh reports being generated by his subordinates.

Three additional meetings had been planned by the Humans. As Emperor Somerville hadn’t attended any of them, Reverus hadn’t either. Though the meetings had discussed more mundane matters, they each revealed more important pieces of information about his adversaries. He was just finishing the final report when his COM unit beeped at him. Checking it, he saw one of his subordinates wanted to inform him Rear Admiral Yurosan had finished his debrief.

Reverus set his report aside, requested Yurosan report to his office, and then pulled up the debrief and scanned through it. When the door into his office alerted him that Yurosan was outside, Reverus made him wait five minutes as he finished the debrief. “You may enter,” he eventually called out.

As the Rasmorse Admiral stepped into Reverus’ office, he bowed deeply, showing even more reverence than a Rasmorse subordinate was usually expected to show to an Eaglaton. And rightly so, Reverus thought. Though Yurosan had been captured fair and square in a battle his forces had fought bravely in, he had still allowed himself to be defeated and captured.

“Your shame is a matter for another time,” Reverus said to Yurosan, causing the Rasmorse to raise his head. “A military court will decide your future once this war is over.”

Yurosan nodded. “Thank you, Admiral. I will accept my fate, whatever it is.”

Yurosan’s deflated tone caused Reverus to pity his subordinate. “But I expect you to be cleared of any significant failures,” he told Yurosan. “You will likely be demoted to Commodore and have to prove yourself once more. But you will get a second chance.”

Yurosan bobbed his head up and down gratefully. “Thank you, Admiral. I will not fail the Eaglaton Protectorate a second time.”

“I should hope not,” Reverus replied. “Now,” he continued, trying to lighten his tone. “To the matter I wished to speak to you about. Your captivity. I want to hear it in your own words. How did they treat you?”

“Honestly, Admiral, I cannot complain,” Yurosan answered. “At the beginning, their marines were rough. But I suspect they feared me as much as I did them. The food wasn’t particularly appetizing either. Though that improved with time as they learned what my species likes to eat. As I said in my debriefing, they did interrogate me. But there was no torture. Just a lot of the same questions over and over again.

“Then, after they had finally finished with their questions, they allowed me to share quarters with three Captains. We suspected they were listening to our conversations, but apart from that, they allowed us to spend time together freely, even to explore parts of the ship and to take exercise when we wished. In truth, we were treated far better than I ever expected.”

“And these Humans, what do you make of them?” Reverus pressed.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Admiral,” Yurosan replied hesitantly.

“They are evil conquerors, are they not? Bent on the conquest of all those around them?” Reverus suggested.

“I’m not sure I can answer that Admiral,” Yurosan said. “Certainly, the squadron that attacked me showed a great deal of aggression. Yet they accepted our surrender. In my personal dealings with them, I didn’t see any sign of a hatred for me, or any aggression towards me. But then, I was a defeated enemy. Not a threat.”

Reverus nodded. Of course, an individual Human might be just as pleasant as any Rasmorse or Eaglaton even. Emperor Somerville had shown that. It was their civilization and its desire to dominate its neighbors that was the problem. “What about the other species in their alliance, did you have much interaction with them?” he asked.

Yurosan nodded. “Some. On their ships, they have Vestarian crew as well as Humans. So I met several of them. Then some senior officers from the Varanni Alliance warships also wished to interrogate me.”

“And how did they interact with each other and with the Humans?” Reverus asked. “Were they being treated as equals?”

Yurosan nodded again. “The Vestarians certainly were. As far as I could tell, they were treated just like the Human crew on the ship I was on. The Varanni were treated even better; it seemed many of the Humans actually looked up to their senior officers.”

Reverus frowned, that was not what he wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, Admiral, did I say something wrong?” Yurosan asked as he bowed his head slightly.

“No, all I want is honesty,” Reverus replied. Even if I don’t like it, he said to himself. “What about the other Captains you were with, and the crews from your ships. How were they treated?”

“I was kept strictly from the captured crews,” Yurosan said. “Though I have bumped into several since being released, and their story seems to match mine.” Reverus nodded. He had already read a number of the reports coming in from the ongoing process of debriefing the returned prisoners. “And as for my companions. We were all treated the same. No torture, just lots of questions, and an attempt to make us believe their propaganda.”

Reverus flexed his wings. There was no need to ask what the propaganda was. He had already heard it from Emperor Somerville. “Is there anything else you think I need to know about them?” He asked instead.

“There’s nothing I think I can add, Admiral,” Yurosan said as he shook his head. “Everything I can remember should be in my debriefing. Really, we were kept from seeing anything technological or learning anything about their ships or fleet. Perhaps they were expecting we would be released at some point.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Reverus mused. Admiral Becket had sent a frigate requesting a ceasefire be declared before his attack on Farvul’vian. There had been no way he could have agreed to any cessation of hostilities whilst a Rasmorse system remained in Humanity’s hands. But they did sue for one, anyway. Maybe they were hoping for a prisoner exchange even then.

That gave Reverus a dilemma. For it threw doubt on Yurosan’s story. For if the Humans had been planning to hand him back all along, then everything he had experienced and everything he had been told could have been a lie. One meant to make us trust them more. Or all of it is the truth, Reverus couldn’t help thinking.

“Admiral, can I be of any more service?” Yurosan asked as Reverus didn’t speak, lost in his own thoughts.

“No, no,” Reverus said when his eyes snapped back to Yurosan. “You have answered my questions. Thank you. I will keep an eye on your court proceedings to make sure you are treated fairly. You are dismissed, Rear Admiral.”

Yurosan stood and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Admiral,” he said before turning and quickly leaving.

Reaching for his COM unit, Reverus tapped it three times. A side door into his office slide open and an Eaglaton walked in. “Well, what did you make of him?” he asked his Chief Intelligence Officer.

“He is as he appeared,” Commodore Wesran answered. “I don’t think he had been turned into an enemy agent if that is what you are concerned about. It appears our enemies treat their prisoners fairly.”

“And today’s meetings?” Reverus asked. He had sent Wesran to each of them to observe the Humans and their allies who Somerville had assigned to dialogue with his people.

“Human ways are strange, as are their allies. But they are not so strange as to make them unreadable,” Wesran said. “Their sense of fairness seems to match ours, and whilst they are aggressive, and will defend what is theirs, they have surprised me.”

“In what way?” Reverus asked, his feathers flexing to show his interest.

“I was expecting something more hostile. More repugnant, even,” Wesran said, searching for the right words. “From everything I’ve read of them, I wasn’t even sure they would be open to having such dialogues.”

Reverus nodded. “I was just as surprised by Emperor Somerville. Do you think it is all an act?”

Wesran took a moment to consider his answer. “It is certainly possible. But it would be a big operation. Every one of the prisoners returned has the same story. From the freshest recruit to Rear Admiral Yurosan. Their representatives in each of the meetings would have to be good actors as well.”

“So what you’re saying is it is unlikely?” Reverus said.

Wesran lifted his wings in a shrug. “Without really knowing the capabilities of the Humans’ intelligence agencies, I cannot say for sure what is or isn’t possible for them. I’m simply pointing out the level of effort that would be required.”

Reverus frowned. “So then, where does that leave us?” Wesran was the son of one of his closest friends. With him, he was able to voice what he couldn’t with his other subordinates. “Is it possible our initial intelligence on the Humans was wrong? At least in some respects?” Wesran’s eyes flashed and he looked around as if someone else was in the room watching them. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, you can speak freely with me, there will be no consequences,” Reverus assured him.

“I’m not sure how to answer that question, Admiral,” Wesran said carefully.

“Just answer it as best you can,” Reverus said.

“Well, I have always had questions about the initial intelligence briefings I was given about the Humans. Not major questions,” he added quickly. “Just small things that didn’t add up. Like a lot of the information read more like encyclopedia entries rather than information typically gathered from agents on the ground, or even foreign assets. That was strange, but given the importance of our new enemies, I thought it was done that way to protect our sources. But since the fighting has begun, my mind has been brought back to those initial briefings.”

“How so?” Reverus asked. “Much of what we knew about the Humans, and their fleets and strategies, has held up extremely well.”

Wesran nodded. “Almost too well, I’d say. Think about it. We started the war with all this intel on the Human Empire, intel that had to come from some sources in or near their systems. But now, since the war started, we’ve had nothing. No intel on their fleet’s movements, or reinforcement schedules. Not even information on how the war is being perceived in their home systems. It’s as if all our sources have dried up at once.”

“And what does that tell you?” Reverus pressed as his concern grew. This was an angle he hadn’t thought about before.

Again, Wesran took a moment to formulate his reply. “One of two things, I think. Either the Humans have a very good intelligence agency, and so when they found out about us, they were able to immediately crack down on whatever sources we had. Or, the intel Eaglaton Intelligence has based its briefings on did not come from our agents or sources. If it came from someone else, that would explain why we have received no updated intel since the war began.”

The moment Wesran opened up the possibility, Reverus mind began to whirl with repercussions. Not once in his career had he ever questioned the provenance of Eaglaton Intelligence intel. It had never even occurred to him. Every Eaglaton knew how important Eaglaton Intelligences’ work was. Every agent understood how essential honesty and accuracy was, for if senior Naval officers were making decisions based on bad intel, millions of lives could be put in jeopardy.

But what if it is wrong? Reverus asked himself. At least when it comes to the Human’s relationship with their allies? The consequences of such a mistake would almost be unthinkable. For it would mean his people had been duped into the war. Without realizing, Reverus shook his head. It was still all but unthinkable to him that such an error would be made. But it would explain so much.

“It could have come from someone else,” Reverus said out loud, repeating Wesran’s words back to him. “This is the question we need to answer,” he decided as he held Wesran’s eyes. “For if the intel this war is based upon didn’t come from us, then who did it come from?”

Chapter 43

Sometimes, all you have to go on is your gut. And though I would not advise a young cadet to rely on such decision making tactics, a seasoned warrior can never ignore their intuition.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Freelancer, 16th July 2510 AD, (two days later).

In all her years of service to the Speaker and the Pillar of Seclusion, Rarmanca had never come close to being as flustered as she was now. The moment she had heard the news, she had rushed to Farvul’vian. Even as her freighter jumped into the system, she wasn’t sure if she was too late or not.

Relief flooded through her when Freelancer’s primitive sensors updated to show her the Human and Protectorate fleets were still squared off against one another. They haven’t ended their negotiations yet! She thought to herself. There is still time!

At once, she set course for the Human fleet. Freelancer’s transponder announced she was carrying fresh supplies and munitions. Minutes later, orders came back for her to come alongside a heavy cruiser. Rarmanca set the autopilot to handle the maneuver. She then waited until she was close enough to the Human fleet to use her laser COM unit to ping her contact. When she got a response, she sent a request for her contact to arrange for her to be allowed to come on board her contact’s battlecruiser. Inside her prosthetic Human body, a smile spread across Rarmanca’s toothless lips. The first part of her plan was a go.

Now to make the rest work, she said to herself. Though the plan was simple, her heart was still racing. For the past forty years, she had worked in the shadows. She had thought she had perfected the skill of moving her contacts and enemies around like pawns to accomplish her goals, yet all the while remaining hidden and unknown. Direct action was another matter entirely. That was something she was not accustomed to. Nor was it something she liked.

Deep down, Rarmanca knew what she was about to do was a sign she had failed. For sure, the Speaker was going to see it that way. But how was I to know they would actually hold a ceasefire? Rarmanca complained, for the twentieth time since she heard. Out of nowhere, the Humans who had been hit by a surprise attack, and the Eaglatons who thought the Humans almost as bad as the Karacknids, had started talking to one another.

Even Rarmanca hadn’t foreseen that. Though a part of her had started to worry that maybe she should have. In any case, she was about to put an end to it. The moment the freighter moved alongside the battlecruiser; she sent orders for its automatic drones to begin unloading the freighter’s cargo next to the battlecruiser for its crew to then begin to take the cargo aboard. Then she told the freighter’s autopilot to hold position.

Spinning, Rarmanca double-checked her COM unit to make sure her contact had sent over the permission codes. Then she swiftly walked out of the freighter’s bridge and towards the shuttle bay. Behind her, she left twelve dead Humans slumped over their command consoles.

*

IS Banshee

First Lieutenant Olivia Hernandez walked towards her quarters as slowly as possible. Each time she passed someone in the corridor, she almost dropped her datapad in fright. As they locked eyes with her or nodded in her direction, she was sure they would be able to see shame and fear on her face and know. Yet to her dismay, no one stopped her.

When she came to a halt outside her quarters, she froze in place. With every fiber of her being, she didn’t want to cross the threshold. Up until this point, her activities had always been small and innocuous. An irrelevant file here, a schedule there. She never passed on anything of worth. Yet this felt different. Her handler had contacted her directly out of the blue, and demanded a face-to-face meeting. Though no threat had been made, Olivia knew that if she failed to show up, all her previous work would come to light, and she’d be facing a very long prison sentence.

If that had been all of it, she liked to think she would have turned straight around and gone to Banshee’s Captain. The problem was; it wasn’t. Her handler had something on her parents. She didn’t know the exact amount, but her parents had made some bad business deals with some shady characters. When their lives had been threatened, an agent of her handler had stepped in and sorted it all out. On one condition, Olivia was to do the odd favor for her parents’ new benefactors. Though her parents had pleaded her not to accept, Olivia had had no choice. How could she have let them be beaten or even tortured?

And so, here she was. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves. One step at a time, she told herself. She would just go in, see what her handler wanted, and if she was willing to do it, she would. And if not, then she would tell the Captain after all. She would just have to find a way to get her parents to safety. For if this is my handler, then maybe I can turn him in.

Starting forward, the doors into her quarters automatically opened for her. Her eyes darted left and right as she stepped into her living area. There was no one there. The sound of footsteps from the bathroom made her turn in that direction. Olivia stopped as if she had crashed into a glass wall. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. For a fraction of a second, she thought she was looking at a holo image. Yet as the woman came closer, it was clear she was very real.

The woman was her twin! Her identical twin! Looking her up and down, Oliva’s shocked brain couldn’t find a hair of difference between them. “Who are you?” Olivia demanded when she finally found her voice. “How did you…”

She didn’t get to complete her question, for faster than any Human could move, Rarmanca whipped her blaster out of her holster and shot Olivia in the chest three times. Each beam was underpowered so as not to alert the ship’s internal sensors. Yet the first was powerful enough to stun, and the second and third together killed.

Stepping over to the Human whose genetic profile Rarmanca had harvested more than a year ago, she picked up Olivia’s COM unit and ID chips. Spotting a ring, she also took it and placed it on the corresponding finger of her prosthetic’s hand.

Without another moment’s hesitation, she dragged the body into the adjoining washroom, stepped out and locked the door, then set off for the heavy cruiser’s hangar bay. She needed to catch a shuttle to IS Victory, and now she had the credentials to do so. Leaving a body behind was far from her standard operational procedures, but she didn’t have the time to deal with it. It will just be a mystery they’ll never figure out, she told herself.

*

IS Victory

Commodore Jackson was mildly irritated as he walked back to the quarters he had been temporarily assigned on Victory. Olivia was an old family friend. Her uncle had served with him during the Karacknid War before retiring from the Navy. As a favor, he had kept an eye on her career. Whatever her problem was, he was all too happy to help out, but couldn’t it wait? She has to know I’m on one of the negotiation delegations.

When he reached his quarters, Olivia was standing outside waiting for him. She smiled when their eyes met. “Commodore, thank you for sparing me a few minutes. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Jackson said. “I’ll always have time for you. Though we’ll have to be quick.” Reaching forward, he tapped the access panel for his quarters. “After you,” he said as he gestured inside as the door retracted.

“This won’t take more than a few moments,” Olivia promised him.

As he walked in after her, Jackson moved towards his drinks pantry to get Olivia a refreshment. Just as the door clicked shut behind him, Olivia spun around incredibly fast. Jackson stopped mid-stride at the expression on her face. It had gone from sweet and appreciative, to cold, then hard in an instant. He barely had time to register something was wrong before he spotted the weapon in her hand. His hand jerked towards his own plasma pistol, but he was far too slow. Three beams sent him sprawling to the floor, dead, a look of betrayal permanently etched on his face.

Rarmanca moved to the quarters’ access panel and locked it. Then she stepped over to her victim and quickly undressed him. Next, she pulled out a small device from her tunic. She tapped it and then stepped back. The device sprang into the air and then began to fly back and forth around the Commodore, scanning his body. When it chirped to say it was done, Rarmanca turned the body over and then the drone repeated the process.

Once the scans were complete, Rarmanca undressed. Then she wiggled her tail in a way that told her prosthetic to start to decouple from her body. She closed her eyes as the various neural and muscular probes detached, for the experience was far from pleasant. Opening her eyelids again, she was now looking through her own eyes. Coiling her tail, she propelled herself out of the prosthetic that exactly mimicked Lieutenant Olivia Hernandez’ body.

Once on the floor of the Commodore’s quarters, she stretched out and allowed the long muscles of her circular body to relieve themselves of the tension that came from wearing the prosthetic for so long. In disgust, she looked up at the large body that towered above her. Despite decades of serving the Pillar of Seclusion, she was still repulsed by every species she encountered.

With the tip of her tail, she activated a much smaller remote that also controlled the drone. The drone flew towards the prosthetic, and then into its mouth as it opened. Seconds later, the prosthetic downloaded the information from the drone and began its metamorphosis. Rarmanca’s remote told her the process would take an hour. After setting the remote to emit a beep when the process was done, Rarmanca looked around for a safe place to wait. For though she much preferred being in her own body, she couldn’t help but feel small and vulnerable.

Seeing a good spot under the Commodore’s bed, Rarmanca slithered over to it and found the darkest part. Coiling her body up, she then rested her head on her tail. She’d been awake for most of the last thirty-six hours as she had rushed to Farvul’vian. Even one quick hour of sleep was very welcome. When you’re done, you can sleep for as long as you want, she promised herself as she closed her eyes.

As the gentle beeping from her remote woke her, Rarmanca groaned. Her entire body ached from being pent up in her prosthetic. She allowed herself a couple of seconds to grumble, then she pushed her body’s complaints from her mind. She was on a mission, nothing else mattered.

Slithering out from under the bed, she was greeted by the sight of her prosthetic. Now it perfectly resembled Commodore Jackson. At least on the outside. Her original prosthetic had been grown over the course of several days from a perfect body and genetic scan of Lieutenant Hernandez. Metamorphosizing one prosthetic into another was typically never done, and certainly not at the speed Rarmanca had done it in, but the situation gave her no choice.

Slithering up the prosthetic leg, Rarmanca entered it and allowed the probes to attach themselves to her. After a couple of seconds getting used to the new sensations, she opened her eyes and found herself looking out through Commodore Jackson’s eyes, or at least a decent replica of them. Going through a standard set of exercises, she made sure she had control of all of his body parts.

Several times she frowned as the body didn’t respond exactly as she expected. Normally, such results would make her exit the prosthetic at once and restart the whole process. Yet that was not an option now. When she was content she would at least be able to complete her mission, Rarmanca moved over to the satchel she had brought with her from Banshee.

In just ten minutes, she assembled the two small explosive devices from the parts she had brought. One she carefully set beside Commodore Jackson’s real body. The other she put back in her satchel. Next she put on the Commodore’s uniform and his ID tags. Moving into the washroom, she checked herself in its mirror. Other than straightening her tunic, she looked the part. A glance at the chronometer on Commodore Jackson’s datapad told her she had just ten minutes before the next scheduled conference.

Timed perfectly, she thought to herself as she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Now, to put an end to these discussions!

Stepping out of the washroom, Rarmanca pulled out another device she had brought with her and held it up to the quarters’ main access panel. Several small wires extended from it and attached themselves to the access panel. Quickly, she was able to gain control of it. With a couple of taps on her device, Rarmanca ensured that the quarters wouldn’t open again for anyone once she left. Next she used her hack to access the ship’s security. She planted a small file that would get to work on the holo recording devices in the room where the meeting was to take place.

As Rarmanca disengaged her device, she couldn’t help but smile. Thanks to the superiority of Silizzeras cryptography, she had hacked into the systems of more than a dozen species. Now she could add the flagship of the Human Empire’s Emperor to her list. A flagship that will soon be no more, she thought, her smile widening as she stepped out of the quarters and set off towards the meeting room.

*

Georgia found herself with a few minutes to kill before going to the next meeting with the Eaglaton delegation. Rather than wait in her quarters, she decided to walk to the meeting. That was one thing she had missed during her captivity that she had loved doing on Archimedes. Nothing made her feel more at home on a ship than being able to simply walk through a ship’s corridors at her leisure, taking in everything that was happening. Understandably, the Eaglaton’s hadn’t allowed her to simply go wherever she had wanted on Reverus’ flagship.

Taking her time, she made her way towards the deck where the meeting was to be held. As she passed several marines, she nodded to them and they saluted in return. She had to stop and smile each time she met one of Victory’s crew. It seemed everyone on board, from her father’s staff officers, to newly minted ensigns, wanted to congratulate her on her return from the dead.

The experience was more than a little unsettling for Georgia. Growing up, she had always lived in her mother and father’s shadow. They had been the face of the Empire, not her. Yet now, many were beginning to look up to her in her own right. I suppose dying will help everyone to appreciate you, she thought, not at all aware that the feats she accomplished leading up to her supposed death were as much a reason for the newfound recognition she was receiving as was her title of Imperial Princess.

When a Commodore she had met several times came around a turn in the corridor she smiled at him too. Commodore Jackson had served with her father as a Lieutenant in the Karacknid War. In return, Jackson nodded at her. Yet that was it. He didn’t smile or speak. In fact, his facial features barely flickered. Stiffly, he walked past Georgia like she was hardly even there.

Georgia frowned as he passed and slowed her pace. Turning her head, she looked back at the Commodore. He didn’t slow or make any additional effort to acknowledge her. He must have something heavy on his mind, she thought as she shook her head and walked on. By the time a naval officer reached the rank of Commodore, acknowledging other senior officers should have become second nature. Even if his mind was wandering somewhere else, he should have responded a little more warmly. Have I offended him? Georgia wondered as she picked up her pace again. As far as she knew, she hadn’t spoken to Jackson since returning on board Victory.

Shrugging her shoulders, Georgia put Jackson from her mind as she continued her walk. She wasn’t aware of having done anything. Whatever his problem was, she wasn’t going to get worried about it.

Several minutes later, Georgia doubled back on herself to return to the scheduled meeting room. When she got there, most of the delegation from both sides were already present. To her delight, they were actually mingling with each other. When one Eaglaton came towards her, her eyebrows rose in surprise. Admiral Reverus had come himself.

“Flight Leader, it is good to see you again,” Reverus said as he held out a taloned hand to her. “It is nice to meet as equals, rather than as prisoner and captor.”

Georgia shook his hand. “I think that is something we can both agree on, Admiral. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were attending this meeting.”

“I decided to join last minute. I hope your father won’t be offended,” Reverus replied.

“I’m sure he won’t, he’ll just wish he could have been here,” Georgia said. “Perhaps he will come when he hears.”

“I hope not,” Reverus said. He winked at the confusion on Georgia’s face. “How else will I learn how his subordinates act when he is not around?”

Georgia shook her head. Reverus was a shrewd one. He never did anything without careful consideration. “Well then, I hope you learn whatever it is you are after,” she said. “And I hope we do not disappoint.”

Reverus smiled. “I’m sure you will not.”

“It is time to begin,” Admiral Salamanca said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Let us take our seats.”

Georgia smiled at Reverus, and then moved to take her seat at one of the far ends of the oval table. With no official role in the delegation, she was there largely to watch. Reverus sat on his delegation’s side in the middle, directly opposite Salamanca. Out of curiosity, Georgia leaned forward to look down the table past Salamanca towards Commodore Jackson. But the officer wasn’t looking her way. Instead, he was staring at Reverus. As surprised as me that he’s here I suppose, Georgia thought.

Moments later, as Salamanca began to welcome the Eaglaton delegation, she found herself frowning again, for Jackson’s face barely moved. In fact, he was hardly even blinking. Something is wrong with him, she couldn’t help thinking to herself. Something more than being upset at me. Picking up her datapad, she looked down at the schedule for the meeting. He was due to speak about halfway through on a minor issue relating to the sharing of medical information so each side could better treat the wounded prisoners they might take in the future. An easy topic to cover surely, Georgia thought, not something to get so worked up about.

When she glanced along the table once more, the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up. Something was wrong. The feeling was the same as how she often felt in combat just before an enemy laser was about to tear through space right where her fighter was. Something was very wrong. It took her a second to see it, but as soon as she did, she recoiled in horror. Jackson’s face had lost all expression. He was just sitting there as if someone had put him in a trance. Worse, as Georgia looked into his eyes, they were just two balls of blackness.

Looking down, Georgia’s gaze fell on Jackson’s small satchel. He had been carrying it as she had passed him in the corridor. Now, he had placed it on the desk in front of him. Georgia’s sense of danger spiked. Years of trusting her instincts made her act. At once, she sprang to her feet.

“Get down!” she screamed even as she used her augmented strength to leap upon the table. In three quick strides, she ran to the satchel and kicked it across the table towards the nearest bulkhead. Pandemonium broke out as everyone stood and began to shout. Ignoring it, Georgia turned and dived towards Reverus. Tackling him to the ground, she felt his talons cut into her flesh as he tried to fight her off.

A sudden flash made her shut her eyes. At once, a deep roar assaulted her ears. A shockwave hit her milliseconds later. Georgia screamed as a great heat ripped the skin off her back, then she blacked out from the pain.

Chapter 44

The Silizzeras were a crafty species, perhaps craftier than we ever realized. Even today, over five hundred years later, we do not know how they accomplished all that they did. What we do know is that we must be constantly vigilant, for they may yet return to seek their revenge.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Victory

James was in his office reading over some reports when he felt the first shockwave. He was on his feet at once. Before he could act, a second shockwave rippled under him “What was that?” he demanded as he tapped his COM unit. “Are we under attack?”

“Not sure yet Admiral,” the officer of the watch on Victory’s bridge replied. “It looks like some kind of internal malfunction. We’re not detecting any signs of fire from the nearby Eaglaton warships.”

“That was more than a malfunction,” James said, he was far more familiar with what a ship being hit by an enemy laser beam felt like. “Where was it?”

“One is in the area of decks seventeen and eighteen, sections nine or ten,” the Lieutenant said. “The other in the guest quarters on deck three, section one. Repair teams are heading to both areas now to investigate.”

James froze. The room being used for the meetings with the Eaglaton delegation was near decks seventeen. And Georgia is at the current meeting! “I’m headed there right now,” James informed the Lieutenant. “Send medical teams at once.”

“Yes, Admiral, understood,” the Lieutenant replied sounding confused. James didn’t care, he was already rushing out of his office.

When he got near the sections in question, James had to push his way through crewmembers who had already started to gather. The thick black smoke he could see ahead of him confirmed his fears. Something had exploded. There was a slim change that with Victory being so new, one system or another could have failed. But not twice, not at the same time in different parts of the ship. Someone had set off an explosion! One aimed at either his delegation or the Eaglatons.

Finally making it to the site of the explosion, the scene that greeted James turned his stomach. The explosion had ripped out a bulkhead and half the walls around the meeting room. Bodies lay strewn everywhere. Some were so charred as to be unrecognizable. A handful of medics were already there, moving through the dead and injured. Though a couple of crew tried to hold him back, James shrugged them off and rushed into the carnage.

Without hesitation, he began to turn over bodies looking for his daughter. When he found someone who was not dead, he called for a medic. Thankfully, there were more arriving by the second. Those that were dead, he could do nothing more for. When he found Salamanca, James recoiled at the appearance of his friend. Half of his face was burnt away. All he could see was bone and muscle.

Praying that he was alive, James reached for the least burnt arm. Finding the weakest of pulses, he turned and screamed for more medics. “This is Rear Admiral Salamanca,” he told the first one to come to him. “Do whatever it takes to save him.”

As the medic moved in, James stood back. Straightening, he looked around the carnage, trying to see if he could see Georgia. He stopped when he spotted an Eaglaton he recognized. Reverus was on his knees, his wings badly singed. As Reverus moved, James’ eyes widened. The Eaglaton Admiral was kneeling over his daughter.

At once, he was kneeling beside his enemy. “Is she hurt?” he demanded as he reached for her. Her face looked unburnt, but her eyes were closed, and he couldn’t see if she was breathing.

“She saved me,” Reverus said feebly as he turned towards James. James saw that his face was scarred, but there were no signs of burn marks on his body. “She threw herself on top of me,” Reverus added.

“Is she hurt?” James repeated as his eyes returned to his daughter and began to look her up and down. He grabbed a hand to check for a pulse, though he couldn’t feel one.

“Her back, she threw herself on top of me to protect me,” Reverus repeated, sounding dazed.

Realizing what he was indicating, James gently but quickly took hold of Georgia’s shoulder and hip and rolled her. He was filled with horror at his daughter’s broken and burnt back. Her uniform had been burnt away. Several deep gashes were bleeding profusely from shrapnel that had cut through her and a number of her ribcage bones glistened with blood where her skin had simply melted from the heat of the explosion.

Almost, James gave up and fell over Georgia to break into tears. Yet as he set her back down again, the smallest of groans escaped her lips. She’s alive! He shouted at himself. She’s alive, you fool!

Without thinking, James scooped his daughter up into his arms. Looking around, he saw every medic was focused on someone else. Even if they weren’t, no one had the equipment to properly deal with her. “Out of my way!” he shouted as he broke into a sprint.

Using his shoulder and an arm when he could spare it, he used his augmented strength to shove anyone blocking his path back. Without being conscious of who he bowled over; James rushed from the wrecked meeting room. Once in open corridors, he broke into a sprint. The fastest of his life. Victory’s decks became a blur as he ran to the nearest turbo lift. Rushing in, he slapped the button for the medical bay.

The twenty seconds it took to get him there seemed to last an eternity. As soon as the doors hissed open, he was sprinting again. Whilst medics rushed the other way, he weaved through them. Several stopped and turned to follow, but James didn’t realize. “Doctor MacLachlan! Where is Doctor MacLachlan?” He shouted as he burst into the medical bay.

“Here, I’m over here, Admiral,” MacLachlan said as she stepped out of an adjacent room. She looked cross at being called for so roughly, but her face changed as soon as she saw who James was carrying. “Quick, over here. Set her in this bed.”

“It’s her back,” James said as he set his daughter down as gently as he could. “It’s burnt and all cut up. She is losing lots of blood.”

“Don’t worry, Admiral, don’t worry. I have her now,” MacLachlan assured him. “Please stand back. Leave her to us.”

Though he heard the doctor’s words, James didn’t take more than half a step back. And whilst he knew he didn’t really want to see; he couldn’t take his eyes away as MacLachlan and her aides quickly surrounded Georgia and got to work.

Sometime later, James felt himself being pulled backwards. Turning, he came face to face with Becket. “James, I’m so sorry!” she said. “How is she?”

“I don’t know yet,” James replied. “MacLachlan hasn’t told me yet.”

Both of them turned back to Georgia. MacLachlan had her bigger wounds stitched up and was applying artificial skin and a soothing gel to Georgia’s back. “Don’t worry about a thing. I will handle it all,” Becket assured him.

Only then did James remember he had seen Reverus! “Admiral Reverus, is he ok?”

Becket nodded. “Badly shaken up, and he’s suffered a few burns, but he believes he will be fine. He was overseeing medical teams that have come across from his flagship.”

“His fleet knows about the explosion?” James asked as his mind started to think about other things than his daughter. His first concern was that the Eaglatons would launch an immediate attack in response to what happened to their people.

“They do. Things were hairy for a moment there though,” Becket explained. “It took us about fifteen minutes to find Reverus and get him on a COM channel. The Eaglaton fleet was all but ready to launch a boarding party to come get him before he managed to calm them down.”

“So he isn’t blaming us?”

“I don’t think he has got that far one way or another. He’s been focused on his people,” Becket answered. “Though I will say, he is not happy. Not one bit.”

James nodded. That was understandable. He felt the same. As he looked back at Georgia. He knew he didn’t want to leave her side, but he had no choice. His mind was running through all the ramifications of what had just happened. If Reverus thought the attack aimed at him, then their peace negotiations had already failed. He needed to get the fleet ready to flee the Farvul’vian system before they were trapped.

And what if it was us? He found himself asking. He knew he hadn’t given any such order. Nor, he was sure, would Shraw, Becket, Salamanca, or Maleck. But the explosion had happened on his ship. Unless one of Reverus’ representatives was to blame, someone from his side was involved!

James reached over and squeezed Becket’s forearm. “Thank you for coming, and for covering for me. I will take charge now. I’ll see to Reverus and the fleet. You go and oversee the investigation. We need to get to the bottom of this immediately. If there is a traitor on board, I want them found.”

“Understood, Admiral, I won’t let you down,” Becket said with a serious nod.

“You can pull anyone you need into your team,” James responded. “Now, let’s get to it.” Taking one last glance back at Georgia, James pressed his concerns for her away and forced himself to focus on his responsibilities. Hold on, he thought towards his daughter before turning and following Becket out of Victory’s medical bay.

It didn’t take James long to find Reverus, for he was in one of Victory’s hangers, directing the Eaglaton medics who were taking their wounded onto shuttles. “Admiral,” James called out as he approached. “I am glad to see you on your feet. And I’m so sorry for what has happened. Please, accept my apologies. I promise to make right the wrong that has occurred today.”

Reverus stiffened when he saw James. “Emperor, thank you for your apology. Though I am not sure what it is worth. This has been a black day, a very black day. Please, tell me your daughter has not been added to the list of dead.”

“Thankfully, she has not,” James replied. “Though she is still in surgery. Our doctors haven’t been able to give me any guarantees yet, but she is strong, I believe she will pull through.”

“That is a glimmer of good news,” Reverus said. He flexed his wings without thinking and grimaced at the pain.

“Are you okay, Admiral?” James asked, full of concern.

“I have been better, but I am the lucky one,” Reverus said, his voice hardening. “Three of my people are not. They were each close advisors and friends. Cut down on your ship under a banner to truce.”

“And for that I am truly sorry,” James repeated. “But we have lost people too. I assure you; this was not my doing. Whoever did it, we will quickly get to the bottom of it and punish them accordingly.”

Reverus’ tone turned even more hostile. “You will forgive me, Emperor, if I find your assurances lacking. You assured us of our safety when coming here, and that has proved to be worthless. Let me be clear, you instigated these negotiations. You lured us onto your ship. Then you, or some of your people, tried to murder me and my staff.”

James held up both his hands. “Please don’t do this, Admiral. My daughter was nearly killed. I had no part in this. Someone is clearly trying to bring our negotiations to an end. Let us not give them what they want.” James was tempted to argue that for all they knew, it could have been someone from Reverus’ side who had planted the bomb. It was certainly possible, though he doubted pointing that out would reduce the tension between them.

As James spoke, Reverus beak snapped shut. James could see the muscles around it shimmering as they pressed down strongly. When Reverus’ beak opened again, he raised his voice further. “If it is not clear already, Emperor, our negotiations are over. The ceasefire ends at the end of the day. You should take your fleet and leave the system at once.” Reverus paused and looked around at all the Humans and Eaglatons who had paused what they were doing. He gestured towards all of them. “Do you hear me? You have until the end of the day. There will be no more talk!”

Without waiting for a reply, Reverus spun and marched off towards the nearest Eaglaton shuttle. James thought about going after him, but he knew he had nothing to say that would make the Eaglaton stop. Then he remembered how he had found Georgia. “You said she saved you!” he called out. “Does that count for nothing?”

Reverus stopped dead. Slowly, he turned and locked eyes with James. “It counts for a very great deal, Emperor,” he said quietly. “I am in her debt. But it does not change the fact that some of your people tried to kill me. That confirms everything I have feared of your species. Whether you or she are trustworthy matters not. Your species must be removed from this sector of the galaxy!” Once again, Reverus spun and marched off. No other words came to James to make him stop.

Instead, he was filled with a sense of defeat as he watched Reverus’ shuttle take off and leave the hanger. He shook his head as it did. Things don’t have to be this way, he thought towards the Eaglaton. And they don’t yet, he added for himself. For you’re not giving up.

Activating his COM unit, James requested to talk to Becket, for she needed to know how little time she had to figure out what had just happened. And then you need to get the fleet ready. For if Becket failed, James had little doubt that Reverus’ first action after the ceasefire would be to go on the offensive!

*

Three hours after the explosions, Rarmanca slithered back onto Freelancer. It had been quite an ordeal trying to sneak her way to the freighter. Without credentials or even a prosthetic, she had to revert back to the skills she had learned in basic training. Every Silizzeras agent was expected to master fieldcraft using their own bodies before ever progressing to using prosthetics. Though she knew she was rusty, Rarmanca couldn’t help feeling pleased with herself.

When she made her way to the small ship she had hidden in one of the freighter’s hangers and launched it, her pleasure increased even more. On its passive sensors, she could see the Human and Eaglaton fleets had moved away from one another. Both sides also had their weapons charged, and their targeting sensors were bathing each other in electromagnetic energy.

During her longer than expected trip back to Freelancer, she had feared the shooting might have started before she got clear. She had been delighted when she had arrived at the meeting and discovered Admiral Reverus was present. It had given her an even greater prize. However, as it had taken her longer than she expected to get back to Freelancer, she had begun to worry she had failed. But they are at the boiling point now, she thought. Soon it will spill over into warfare again!

Which means it is time to get out of here! Easing up the power on her small ship, she input a set of coordinates and gave the order for her ship’s autopilot to start moving. Once Freelancer began to be left behind, she sent a laser COM message to the freighter, giving it one last order. On board the Human ship, a countdown started.

Now, to sit and watch the light show, Rarmanca thought as she eyed the small asteroid field her ship was heading towards. Once she got there, she’d be a safe enough distance away from the two battlefleets to enjoy what was soon to transpire.

Chapter 45

‘The enemy of your enemy is your friend,’ can sometimes prove a useful truism upon which to base diplomacy. But what do you do when one species makes every other their enemy?

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

IS Victory

Two hours, Becket thought to herself as she stared at the technicians’ report on the two explosions and shook her head. Two hours had passed, and they still had no leads. She looked up at Commodore Wesran. He too was reading through the same reports. For both of them, it was their fourth time doing so. They were looking for something, anything that would give them a clue as to who planted the bomb.

Though Becket was sure inviting Wesran to join her investigation wasn’t quite what James meant when he had said she could pull anyone into her team, she didn’t think he would mind. Wesran had impressed her when they had both attended one of the negotiations, and though he hadn’t admitted it to her, she knew how to spot an intelligence officer from a mile away. It had been her hope that inviting him would allow the Eaglatons to see the attack hadn’t been ordered by James. Additionally, it gave her better access to Eaglaton information, for she, and to her surprise, Wesran as well, hadn’t ruled out the possibility an Eaglaton had planted the bomb.

The problem was, between the data they both had access to, there was very little to go on. The main explosion, as she thought of it, had killed six people so far. Three from the Eaglaton delegation, and three Imperial naval officers. Though Georgia had been given a good chance of pulling through, Rear Admiral Salamanca wasn’t faring quite as well. From what Becket had heard, the doctors expected the number could soon rise to four Human deaths. The thought made Becket ball her hands into fists. Salamanca had been a friend for over two decades. He was a fine naval officer, one who would be desperately needed when the Karacknids finally attacked again. Yet now, some terrorist had snatched him from his family and his beloved Navy.

He is not dead yet, Becket chided herself, though she could find little hope.

“There is only one strange piece of information in these reports,” Wesran said, breaking the silence that had developed between them. “Your Commodore Jackson. There is plenty of organic matter to suggest he was blown apart. But only limited DNA traces have been found by our techs.”

“You’re thinking he is the bomber?” Becket asked, her body tensing. Though she didn’t know Jackson well, he had as good a reputation as any of her subordinates.

“Is it not suspicious that the recordings of delegations meeting failed?” Wesran responded. “Someone switched them off. That would allow anyone in the meeting to slip out before the explosion, and we wouldn’t know.”

Becket nodded; she had considered it as well. It was the only obvious explanation. “But we have the recordings from the corridors outside the meeting room. We have confirmed all the scheduled attendees entered, and none came out. All are accounted for.”

“All except Commodore Jackson,” Wesran corrected. “His body has not been confirmed yet.”

“But we have traces of his DNA, and biological matter,” Becket countered.

“Traces we might expect from him being in the room, maybe even from some of his personal items, as I understand it. But not from his body?” Wesran said. “And as for the biological, no one has been able to identify it yet. It is just as likely that this bomb was some kind of biological device, and we are detecting residual elements from it. You may not like the implications, for it means one of your officers is responsible. But we must follow the evidence where it takes us.”

Becket frowned. As yet, her technicians hadn’t been able to identify the biological matter they had detected either. Just as mystifying was the explosion itself. No one yet knew exactly what kind of device had been detonated. That gave Wesran’s theory some weight. But there was another explanation. “It is just as likely that the biological material is the remains of Jackson. According to the seating arrangements, he would have been closest to the detonation. We do not know what this exotic bomb would do to someone so close to it at the moment of detonation.”

Wesran nodded. “A fair point. But my explanation gives us a potential lead for how this travesty happened. Yours leaves us with nowhere to look next.”

Becket took a deep breath and tried to assess the situation as if she didn’t know Jackson. “All right,” she said as she stood. “I see your point. It’s at least worth investigating. Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Wesran asked as he jumped to his feet.

“Sick bay,” Becket explained. “We’re not going to find out anything more here. We’ve read and reread the reports from those who got out uninjured and from the technicians’ investigations. If we’re to learn anything new, it’s going to be from someone we haven’t spoken to. Let’s go and see how the injured are recovering.”

When they got to sickbay, Doctor MacLachlan was not happy to see them, but after Becket explained how desperate they were for information, she allowed them in. She strictly charged them that Salamanca and Georgia were not to be disturbed. Both were in induced comas. As gently as they could, Becket and Wesran spoke to the two other patients under MacLachlan’s care.

To Becket’s dismay, neither flag officer could add anything more to what they already knew. They had entered the meeting room, Salamanca had opened the meeting, and then something had exploded. They hadn’t seen anything suspicious, nor had they seen anyone leave. When Becket had brought up the possibility that Jackson had snuck out, one even claimed it impossible, for the Commodore would have had to pass her and she would have seen him.

Becket and Wesran shared a look when they heard that. It all but ruled out his theory. When alarms sounded behind her, Becket turned. Two nurses were rushing to their source. Seeing the alarms were coming from where Georgia was, Becket couldn’t help moving over to her.

“She’s waking up,” one of the nurses said. “Quick, get MacLachlan.”

“Where am I?” Becket heard Georgia croak.

Instinctively, she moved to her friend’s side and took her hand. “You are in Victory’s sickbay,” she said to Georgia. “It’s me, Becket.”

“My back… it is agony,” Georgia managed to say.

“There was an explosion at the delegation meeting. You were hurt,” Becket explained.

Georgia closed her eyes and then nodded. “Yes, I remember.” Her eyes snapped open. “Reverus, is he ok?”

“He survived,” Becket replied. “But three other Eaglatons didn’t. And we lost three officers. Rear Admiral Humphries and Commodores McMillan and Jackson.”

At the mention of Jackson’s name, Georgia’s eyes widened. “Jackson” she said as she gripped Becket’s hand firmer. “There was something off about him. Something wasn’t right.” Her free hand moved up and rubbed her temple. “My head is starting to spin.”

“What wasn’t right?” Becket pressed, sensing she was getting the lead she needed.

“I… I.. don’t remember. I met him in the corridor when he was on his way from the guest quarters. He was off,” Georgia said slowly. “Then in the meeting…” she trailed off and shook her head. “I can’t remember, I just felt something wasn’t right with him.”

“That’s enough!” MacLachlan’s stern voice said as she appeared beside Georgia. “She must be in a great deal of pain. She is in no condition to be questioned. Step back, Admiral.”

Becket squeezed Georgia’s hand. “Get better quickly,” she said as she stepped back. She then turned and shared another glance with Wesran. “I’m an idiot!” she said. “The answer has been staring us in the face. The second explosion site. It was in the guest suites. Jackson was using one of them!”

Moving at a brisk pace, Becket set off towards the second explosion site. She and Wesran had read through the initial reports from the investigation team sifting through the wreckage. They had concluded the explosion was meant as a distraction, possibly for the bomber to be able to escape. Yet now she was certain they had missed something.

Stepping through the wreckage, Becket made straight for the senior technician. “Ensign, what have you got for me?” she asked.

The Engineering Ensign spun round in fright. “Admiral! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.”

Becket waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter, I need to know what you have found. Was there any sign of Commodore Jackson in his quarters?”

“Actually, yes, that is the funny thing I was just putting in my report,” the Ensign replied. “We found a sizable amount of biological material with his DNA. More than we normally expect if it was just his possessions that were caught up in the explosion.”

“Like Jackson was here when the second bomb went off?” Becket asked.

The Ensign nodded. “If we didn’t have visuals of the Commodore entering the meeting room, I’d say he was here when the bomb detonated. But there is no way Jackson could have made it here in time, even if he had left immediately after we lost the visual feed from the meeting room.”

Becket shared a concerned look with Wesran. Something very strange was going on. “Have you found anything else out of the ordinary?” the Eaglaton asked.

“Just one thing,” the Ensign answered. “When I looked through the logs of Jackson’s quarters. About the time I’d expect him to have been leaving his quarters, all the doors into it were locked. Someone hacked and overrode the controls. If the apartment hadn’t been disintegrated by the explosion, I’d say I would have had to cut through the door to get in.”

Becket nodded, thanked the Ensign, and then stepped out of earshot of him. “So,” she said to Wesran, “what do we know?”

“We know something was off with Jackson before he got to the meeting room,” Wesran said. “And that the explosion happened near him. And that someone planted a bomb in his quarters and locked it after they left.”

“So the second bomb was to cover their tracks,” Becket concluded. “But to cover what? How could Jackson be in two places at once?”

“What if he wasn’t?” Wesran asked. “Hear me out. We only found trace amounts of his DNA at the main bomb sight. What if the level was what we’d expect to find if someone was wearing his clothes but wasn’t actually him?”

Becket nodded as she followed Wesran’s line of reasoning. “That explains what we have here. Someone incapacitated Jackson, took his personal effects, then left and locked his body in with a bomb set to cover their tracks. Then they went to the meeting in his place and set off the detonation. Except, what about Georgia and the others at the meeting? Everyone from our delegation knew Jackson personally. They wouldn’t be tricked by an impostor.”

“That would depend on how good the imposter was, wouldn’t it?” Wesran asked.

“You’re saying this terrorist was able to impersonate Jackson so well that even his friends couldn’t tell?” Becket asked.

“Well, clearly Georgia saw that something was up,” Wesran replied. “In truth, I do not know how good your spy technology is. Is something like this possible?”

Becket wrecked her brain. She wasn’t an intelligence expert. Certainly, she didn’t know all the ins and outs of just what Naval Intelligence could do. Though she had never heard of an agent being able to fully impersonate someone else. Just because she didn’t know about it though, didn’t mean it was impossible. “Let’s say you’re right, that means someone else is involved.”

Becket pulled out her datapad and accessed the information that had been gathered on Jackson. She scanned through everything he had done over the last twenty-four hours. One thing stood out to her immediately. A last-minute meeting with a Lieutenant Olivia Hernandez from the battlecruiser Banshee. Officers from different ships flying over to meet face-to-face during down times wasn’t out of the ordinary, but the meeting wasn’t added to his schedule until half an hour before the Lieutenant’s arrival.

“This is strange,” she said to Wesran as she showed him the scheduled meeting. Next she pulled up Hernandez’s ID tags. They showed she had boarded a shuttle on Banshee and taken it to Victory, but then the trail went cold. “She never went back to Banshee.” A tap on her datapad queried where Hernandez was now. The query came back blank. The ID tags were no longer active.

“The second explosion!” both Becket and Wesran said together when they saw the last time stamp from the ID tags.

Becket called out to the technician. “Ensign, confirm it for me again. You haven’t found any DNA traces but Commodore Jackson’s in the wreckage.”

The Ensign nodded his head. “That’s right, Admiral. If Jackson was here, he is the only casualty caused by this explosion.”

“Another mystery,” Wesran said.

“But one we can maybe get to the bottom of,” Becket said. She felt they now had enough strings to pull on that something had to give. Tapping her COM unit, she requested to be connected through to Banshee’s Captain. She quickly spoke to him and asked her to search Hernandez’s quarters and make doubly sure she was not on board his ship. Then she contacted Victory’s Captain and instructed him to do the same, and to check the roster and visual recordings of every shuttle to take of from Victory to make sure Hernandez hadn’t already left under a different name.

Five minutes later, she and Wesran found themselves facing a new conundrum. Hernandez’s body had been found in her quarters on board Banshee. She was dead, killed by some kind of energy weapon Banshee’s medics hadn’t seen before.

“There is no record of Hernandez taking a shuttle off Victory after the explosions,” Becket said after checking. “And the visuals from the hanger bays confirm it.”

“So this impersonator impersonated Hernandez too,” Wesran concluded. “He killed her, took her ID tags and came to Victory, where he killed Jackson and then carried out the bombing.”

Though Becket didn’t want to admit it, she nodded. The security ramifications of what they suspected were massive. If hostile agents were able to easily move between battleships in the middle of a war, it suggested the entire fleet could be compromised. And we still haven’t a clue who is behind it, she thought to herself. She was aware of several dissident groups within the Empire. Most wanted more freedom or complete secession. But none were supposed to have the capabilities to pull off such an attack. And even if they did, why would they? Why encourage a war?

Determined to find out, Becket pulled up Lieutenant Hernandez’ files. If she wasn’t the bomber, then it was possible she knew who was. Looking over her shoulder, Wesran spotted it first. “There,” he said. “She gave permission for an officer from one of your freighters to meet her on Banshee. Look, there’s its name. The freighter Freelancer.”

When she tapped on the name of the freighter, Becket knew they were onto something. Freelancer had come into the system less than a day ago. “That is how the bomber got here,” she said, all but certain. “Which means,” she continued as she accessed the visuals from Banshee’s hanger decks, “whoever it was came on board on this shuttle.”

The datapad changed to show a recording of the hangar bay at the time when the shuttle from Freelancer landed. Becket paused it and zoomed in on the person who had stepped off the shuttle. She nearly dropped the datapad. “How can that be?” she asked.

To answer her own question, she searched through the same files for Lieutenant Hernandez’s position on Banshee. Luckily, her ID tags showed her to be in the heavy cruiser’s engine room. Sure enough, when Becket pulled its visuals, Hernandez soon came into view. With a tap in her datapad, she put both images side-by-side. Both had the same time stamp from the same ship, and yet showed Hernandez in two different places at once.

“An imposter!” Becket said crossly.

“And a good one!” Wesran said as he reached over her shoulder and zoomed both images in. “The resemblance is uncanny. They could be perfect matches. Is that even possible?”

“If she had a twin sister,” Becket answered. “But according to her record, she doesn’t. Though that could have been hidden from us. I fear that’s not the answer, though. Remember, everyone thought Jackson was Jackson. Even Georgia thought it was him, but that something was off.”

“You think whoever this was, was able to impersonate Jackson as well?” Wesran said. He shook his head. “I never heard of anything like it.”

“Me neither, but like you said, we have to follow the evidence,” Becket said. She zoomed the image out a little. “Which means there has to be something useful on that shuttle or on Freelancer. The freighter is still in the system. So let’s get some answers!” Once again, she activated her COM channel and requested Banshee send Marines to secure the shuttle in their hangar and to launch their own shuttle to secure Freelancer.

When Becket tried to raise the freighter, she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t get a response. “Come on,” she said to Wesran, “Let’s go to a proper office, we’ll be able to watch better from there.”

By the time they found one, Banshee’s marines had already reported back. The shuttle was empty, and there was nothing out of the ordinary on it. In the room’s holo display, Becket pulled up an image of Banshee’s shuttle as it approached the freighter. She had warned them to be careful and so it moved in slowly.

Twice it circled the freighter, hailing it, but there was no response. Then, just as the shuttle approached the freighter’s hanger bay door, it suddenly detonated. The explosion shattered the freighter into thousands of fragments. Like shotgun pellets, they blasted through the marine shuttle, ripping it asunder.

Banshee was the nearest warship to the freighter. Thanks to the tension with the Eaglaton fleet, she already had her shield up. It did the heavy cruiser little good, however. Hundreds of fragments burst through the shield and careened off her armor. Large gashes appeared and at least a couple of puffs of atmosphere told Becket the ship’s hull had been breached.

Slamming a fist onto the desk in front of her, Becket swore. They had lost at least ten good people. Eight marines and the shuttle’s two pilots. Plus whatever crew had been on Freelancer, and the casualties Banshee had undoubtedly suffered. And their most important clue!

Unsurprisingly, her COM unit bleeped almost immediately. Admiral Somerville wanted to know what was going on. She quickly assured him that Freelancer’s demise was not because of an Eaglaton attack. Then she filled him in on what they had found so far. He did nothing but listen and then ask for further updates. Becket understood, he had to deal with the aftermath of the freighter’s detonation.

When James ended the COM channel, Becket turned to Wesran in anger. “What are we supposed to do now? That was our main lead!”

Wesran gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry for the losses we just witnessed. And you’re right, it looks like that trail has gone cold. But I’ve been thinking. Someone has gone to a lot of bother to look like Lieutenant Hernandez, then Commodore Jackson. Do you think you’d go to all this trouble to then sacrifice yourself in the explosion? If they can make themselves look like anyone, how do we know they didn’t escape?”

“You mean one of the officers who walked away from the attack, or one of the causalities?” Becket asked. The idea was shocking, but given what she had already seen, she couldn’t dismiss it as a possibility.

When Wesran nodded, she grabbed her COM unit again and contacted Doctor MacLachlan and Victory’s marine Major. “I have an unusual request for both of you,” she said. “I need you to confirm the identity of everyone who was in the meeting room when the delegations were attacked.”

“I should do the same,” Wesran said as he pulled out his own COM unit. He had a concerned look on his face. “For if this person can impersonate Humans so easily, we can’t rule out the possibility they could impersonate one of my people too.”

Becket’s face whitened at that idea. For if such a technology existed, they could impersonate anyone, and cause untold mayhem. Becket froze. Wesran stopped tapping on his COM unit to look at her, but she didn’t notice. Her mind had suddenly gone elsewhere. For several years now, she, James, Christine and several other close confidants of the Emperor and Empress had been pursuing a theory. One that they could find no concrete evidence to support, yet one they all had felt explained a number of strange incidents. This is it, she thought to herself. This explains everything!

In her datapad, she pulled up recorded images from immediately outside the meeting room after the detonation of the bomb. Carefully, far more carefully than she had before, she started to go through them. Sensing Becket did not want to be disturbed, Wesran didn’t speak, but instead finished sending his orders, and then watched along with her.

Becket’s went through each visual second by second. She paused and zoomed in on each person that stepped out of the destroyed meeting room. She didn’t know why she thought she’d be able to spot the impostor. Yet she felt she could. When something caught her eye, she gasped. It was not at all what she had been expecting! Zooming the image in towards the air vent, it was still hard to see. Yet there was something there. Something that she was certain explained every thread they had pulled on in their investigation. Yet something she couldn’t get her head around.

Chapter 46

For more than a millennium, a school of philosophers has argued that we live in a simulation designed by minds greater than our own. Whether that is the case or not, it must have certainly felt it was so during the later stages of the Karacknid Wars Era.

-Excerpt from Empire Ascendant 3015 AD.

EPS Justice

“This is it,” Becket said as she pointed to the zoomed-in image forty minutes later after getting Reverus and James to meet on Reverus’ flagship. Both James and Reverus leaned in to look at it. “I’ve had our technicians touch it up as best as possible. This is the only image we’ve got. But it explains everything.” Becket turned to Wesran.

He nodded. “I concur with Admiral Becket, we both thought this too important to wait. That is why we brought you both here.”

James looked very closely at the image of what he could only describe as a large worm, or perhaps, as he watched it move, a small snake. He shook his head, not quite understanding. “What am I looking at?”

“An alien,” Becket said. “A sentient species, one whom we think was controlling the Hernandez we have images of coming off Freelancer’s shuttle, and then who also controlled the replica of Commodore Jackson that attended the meeting.”

“At first, we thought the imposter disguised himself as another one of the delegation to escape after the bomb went off,” Wesran explained. “But we checked them all and, as far as we could tell, they were all themselves.”

“Then we discovered this image,” Becket said. “It is the only thing that makes sense. Somehow this alien has the technology to create replicas of our people, and then control them to accomplish its purposes.”

James couldn’t find the words to describe his shock. Whilst he had been busying himself preparing the fleet for battle, he had been wrestling with the likely fact that one of his own officers had betrayed him and put the entire Empire in jeopardy. Becket’s news was good in that sense, but the consequences of what she was saying were massive. “Wait a minute,” he said when another implication began to dawn on him. “You said this alien came into the system on Freelancer, so it already had access to our Empire?”

Becket nodded as she and James held each other’s eyes. “It explains everything,” she repeated.

James went white. It felt like his whole world was shattering apart and reforming before his eyes. He shook his head again, struggling to handle the ramifications. When he looked back at Becket, much passed between them. She understood too.

“What are you two so concerned about?” Reverus asked.

James turned to the Eaglaton Admiral. He hesitated. It will make us look weak, he said to himself. But he will know if you lie. And honesty has always served you best. James mentally nodded to himself. There were a number of key moments in his past where he had chosen honesty even to his detriment in dealing with alien species. In the long run, it had always worked out for him. Let’s hope this is no different, he thought.

“This is something I’ve only shared with my closest confidants,” James said as he glanced at Becket. She nodded at him to let him know she approved. “My wife, Admiral Becket and just a handful of others.” James took a deep breath before launching into it. “For several years now, we’ve suspected someone has been working against us in the background. Three years ago, several planets in our Empire attempted to secede. Or more accurately, a handful of political leaders claimed they spoke for their planets as they attempted to do so. Sadly, their efforts led to conflict and bloodshed.

“However, once the rebellion was over and we were able to investigate, it turned out most of the funds the secessionists used came from one person. Yet we could not trace where his funds came from, other than it was a source outside our Empire.

“Then, we discovered an alien species shipping Karacknid weapons to the Flex-aor. I have mentioned the Flex-aor before. They are a genocidal species intent on wiping out every other sentient lifeform. Thankfully, they are technologically inferior to us. If they were ever able to equip all their warships with Karacknid weaponry, they would become a far greater threat.

“Finally, when news first reached me about your Protectorate and the lies you have been told about us, I became certain. Someone has been orchestrating events from the shadows in an effort to weaken my Empire. I thought perhaps it was the Karacknids, yet such operations are not really their MO. Or possibly your species’ leadership was lying to the other members of your Protectorate to trick them into going to war with us. But in getting to know you, Admiral, I began to doubt that.”

James nodded towards the image of the alien snakelike creature. “But now I have my answer. That thing is trying to ensure that we resume hostilities against one another. And now I suspect, interfering in the internal politics of my Empire as well.” James looked up and held Reverus’ gaze. “Tell me truthfully, is it not possible that you have been manipulated into thinking us your enemies when we are not?”

Reverus looked from James to Wesran, and then back to James. He nodded. “I fear it is possible, Admiral. At first, I could hardly even entertain the idea. But then I met your daughter. She showed me, though I resisted seeing it, that your species can be honorable. Her actions when that bomb went off then proved it beyond doubt.”

Reverus bowed his head. “I wish to apologize for my words when last we spoke. I was angry at the deaths of my friends. I should not have treated the father of the woman who saved my life so harshly. Not without having the truth of the matter first.”

“Forget about it,” James said with a wave of his hand. He sat forward in his seat, eager for Reverus to finish what he had started to say.

Reverus bowed again, “Thank you. After this I hope to visit Georgia and pass on my thanks in person.” Pausing, he squawked as he cleared his throat. “As I was saying. Your daughter opened my mind to the possibility that not everything I had been told was correct. Then Wesran and I began to investigate the intelligence that led to this war. We haven’t gotten far yet, but before today our suspicions were already growing. It looks to us like the intel Eaglaton Intelligence has provided to our politicians and naval commanders did not come from their agents, but from another source.

“And given what we’ve witnessed today, one that may be compromised, or even untrustworthy entirely,” Reverus concluded. “For if this alien can impersonate a Human, there is no reason to think they could not do so with one of my species, or any of the Protectorate’s species.”

James let out a long breath of relief. “So that means you believe us, that we are not the enemies you think?”

“I would not say I am fully convinced,” Reverus replied slowly. “But, if I can no longer trust the intel I have been given by my own people, then I must assess things through my own eyes. In that light, everything I have seen from you, your allies, and especially your daughter, forces me towards one conclusion. When we first spoke, you claimed our two empires are more alike than we are different. I fear you may have been right.

“If so, that means this entire war has been for nothing. All the deaths we have both suffered have been meaningless. And the fault lies entirely with my own people. For more than a decade, we have been preparing to confront you. If we allowed ourselves to be deceived for that long, and tricked into attacking you without provocation, then we have brought great shame upon ourselves.” Reverus bowed deeply towards James. “Please Emperor, accept my apology, though I know it is worth little in the face of all that has happened.”

James returned the bow. “If your people have been tricked as much as I fear mine have, then no blame lies at your feet.” James pointed at the image of the alien. “There is where the blame lies.”

“You honor me by your kindness, Emperor.” Reverus said.

“We would honor each other, and even more so our dead, by figuring out what this means for us now.” James replied. “Where does this leave the war? If we four are the only ones who know, how do we even know who to trust?”

“A good question, Emperor,” Wesran said. “First, Becket and I think it wise to confirm each of our identities. For if people from our species can be impersonated, we must take every precaution.”

James’ eyebrows rose as Becket pulled out a small medical device she had borrowed from Doctor McLaughlin. “You doubt us?” he asked as he looked at Reverus.

“If this species is behind everything that has happened to us over the last several years, it seems wise to be sure,” Becket said.

Wesran bowed towards Reverus. “I’m sorry, Admiral, but given the circumstances, it seems prudent.”

“I know I’m no alien impostor,” Reverus said confidently. He held out his wing towards Wesran. “Scan away.”

“You may scan me, too,” James said. “And then we better scan the two of you.”

Moments later and they were all sure, at least as sure as they could be, that they hadn’t been impersonated. “So, where to now from here? Clearly, if this enemy agent came on board one of my freighters, I must check my entire fleet, and my Empire. But I cannot simply leave if Bastion, the wormhole, and my allies are under threat of invasion.”

“And I must return to Eyrious and get to the bottom of this,” Reverus said, “but my first priority is still to the Rasmorse and their colonies.”

James smiled. “Then perhaps we should do something about that. This alien species clearly wants to see us at war with one another. I am willing to disappoint them if you are?”

Reverus’ beak parted. “I believe that is something we can finally agree wholeheartedly upon, Emperor.”

“Well then, what say we leave the politicians out of this and draw up terms of a ceasefire that we can both accept here and now?” James suggested excitedly. “I’m sure the politicians will want to spend weeks going over every small jot of whatever may be formally accepted in the future. But we can make a decisive agreement between the two of us, can we not?”

Reverus nodded. “I have that authority, and I imagine you do as well.”

James’ smile widened. “How does this sound?” he said as he began to make up terms on the fly. “All the space we have contested will become a demilitarized zone. Apart from a handful of anti-piracy frigates, space between our borders around the Gift and Bastion stretching to the borders of Conclave space, and then all the way to Rasmorse and Tolodon space, will be closed to both of our armed fleets. Though unarmed scouts may travel freely to observe we are each keeping our ends of the deal. In addition, freighters may also travel freely, in the hope that we may be able to open trade with one another.”

Reverus brought a taloned hand up to his beak and stroked it. “In general, that would be acceptable,” He said. “How then should we handle Ulan’nagn and Dudllias?”

James thought for a moment. “The Dudl’lons have requested to be formally admitted into our Empire. If they truly want to go ahead with the process, it will likely take many years, but legally, they are now already under our protection.”

“And the Bar’samins sided with Admiral Lvant and sought to come under the safeguard provided by our Protectorate,” Reverus replied. “Though their decision was based upon the same lies we may have been told.”

“And the Dudl’lons only requested to join us for fear you would invade them. If that threat has passed, they may reconsider,” James pointed out.

“Then let us proceed on this basis,” Reverus suggested. “For now, each system will come under our respective protection. We will base no more than thirty warships in each system which will have permission to traverse through the demilitarized zone. That will ensure the Bar’samin and Dudl’lons do not seek to attack one another again. And it will give us an easy way to communicate with one another, for if this alien species has indeed penetrated both our civilizations, we will need to work together to remove their influence.”

“I would very much welcome that,” James responded. “And it might do both of them some good to have a line of communication open between their capitals.”

“Then it is settled,” Reverus said as he stood and moved towards James with an outstretched wing.

James paused before taking it. “There is one more thing I would ask,” he said.

“Name it,” Reverus replied.

“If for whatever reason your species decides to resume hostilities against mine, I ask that you give us fair warning by making a formal declaration of war. I would promise to do so as well.”

Reverus’ beak parted, and he nodded. “Given how this war began, I think I can give you that promise, Emperor. I will make sure my leaders know it, for they will be bound to it as well.”

James smiled and then firmly grasped Reverus’ talons. As they held each other’s gaze, James felt the significance of the moment. If the Eaglatons were truly the honorable species they claimed to be, and if they were capable of changing their opinion on Humanity, then there was a real chance they could become allies and even friends. Even combatants against the Karacknids! James thought as he recalled how Reverus had spoken of his species’ intentions of taking on his greatest enemy.

“I hope this moment is the beginning of a strong partnership between our two civilizations,” James said as they released one another.

“I hope so too, Emperor,” Reverus said. “A partnership and a friendship. That it began with the shedding of blood only gives us all the more reason to make sure we do not make a similar mistake again!”

“I could not agree more,” James said.

He then turned to Becket, and they shared another meaningful look. The swiftness of events had shaken them both. Just like that, the war appeared to be over. But now we have a new enemy. Perhaps one even more deadly!

A new thought occurred to James. “That report of Tanaka-lan’s victory over his rivals. The Kalassai said he used weaponry far more advanced than anything we have seen from the Karacknids before. What if this species gave it to them?”

Becket’s eyes widened. “If they are meddling in the affairs of the Karacknids as well, then we all may be in more trouble than we realize. If whoever this is wants us to be at war, it stands to reason they want the Karacknids to attack us as well.”

“So what will they do when they learn we have made peace?” Wesran said, finishing Becket’s thought.

“I imagine that depends on what their end goals are,” James responded. “I highly doubt these aliens are working with the Karacknids. Perhaps they simply want to see us all at war with each other. Though that may mean if one side or another gets the upper hand, they could intervene and hand over more advanced weaponry.”

James paused as he glanced at Reverus. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I last mentioned the Karacknids. Our Kalassai allies did detect Tanaka-lan using advanced weapons, yet it appears they were one-shot weapons. There has been no indication that he has been able to use them again. That is why we have suspected they were given to him rather than developed by his people.”

“A point you left out to cause me more alarm and so look on you favorably,” Reverus said. James nodded and Reverus smiled. “Given the circumstances you are in, that’s understandable. It also does point even more strongly to the possibility that this hidden species is interfering in the Karacknid Civil War as well as our situation. Which brings us back to today’s attacker. I imagine it would prove very enlightening if we were able to capture this alien and interrogate it.” He turned to Becket and Wesran. “I presume you two have made efforts to trace where the alien went after the bomb’s explosion?”

Becket nodded. “We have, but I’m afraid that trail ran cold. We have no more visuals of the alien, but we believe it made it back to Freelancer two hours ago. A shuttle left Victory for Hercules twenty minutes after the explosion, then a different shuttle travelled from Hercules to Banshee. We are working on the assumption the alien was on board both shuttles. Though no shuttle returned to Freelancer, a service drone did land to deliver some replacement parts that had been requested. No Human could hitch a ride on one,” Becket said as she nodded towards the image of the alien still on the holo display. “But I’d bet something that size could.”

“But Freelancer was destroyed,” James said. “Do you think the alien self-destructed it to avoid being captured?”

“No,” Becket said as she shook her head. She tapped on her datapad to bring up an image of Freelancer. “We were able to recreate this from the sensor logs of several nearby ships. Do you see this series of dots?” Becket tapped a button, and a number of dots began to flash. They didn’t connect to form a straight line, but they did form something akin to a spiral. “These are all trace returns our various ships picked up. Their computers classed them as space debris. They appear to be from rocks no more than two meters in diameter. That’s about a fifth the size of a Hellcat starfighter.

“Normally, we would dismiss such things out of hand, but given how small the alien was, I thought to check. If these are returns from a very small ship in stealth, then it slowly made its way away from Freelancer hours ago. By now, I am sure the alien is long gone.”

“Blast,” James said as he slapped his thigh. “So they could be anywhere?” Becket nodded.

“And so turn up anywhere else as someone else,” Reverus pointed out. He shook his head. “We are operating in the dark.”

“And with few allies,” James pointed out. “At the moment, we cannot trust anyone beyond us four. And I’m starting to think we shouldn’t be widening the circle much more. Not until we can find out more about our new enemy. For if they do have more powerful weapon systems than us, if they think their cover blown, they may come out of the shadows shooting.”

“That may be their end goal anyway,” Reverus suggested. “By getting us all to be at war with one another, they may be hoping we can weaken each other enough for them to walk in and seize everything. But you’re right, the longer we can prevent them from knowing that we know about them, the better the chances we have of finding out more intel.”

“Then we are agreed,” James said decisively. “We will each return to our respective civilizations and begin hunting for this new enemy. We can keep each other up to date via the diplomatic links we will set up on Ulan’nagn and Dudllias.”

Reverus nodded. “I will have to bring in some of my most trusted advisors, and there are two Eaglaton Senators I trust. I will of course confirm their identities before I speak to them.”

“I trust you to work with whoever you need,” James said.

“Then let us shake hands once again, Admiral,” Reverus replied as he stood. “To achieving this new goal we share, to uncovering and defeating this new enemy who would have us destroy ourselves against one another.”

“To a friendship that they cannot break,” James added as he firmly grasped Reverus’ talons once more.

“Then let us be about it,” Reverus said as they released one another. “It will be easy to sell this ceasefire to our people. Your daughter almost gave her life to save mine after all. That has earned enough of our trust to at least call a temporary end to the fighting. Our subordinates do not need to know just how long-lasting we intend it to be yet. That way, we can keep this enemy in the dark a little longer.”

“A good idea,” James agreed. “Meanwhile, we can get to the bottom of figuring out just how far this infiltration goes within my military and your intelligence service.”

“And let us hope the rot is only superficial,” Reverus said as he nodded to James’ words. “Now, take me to see your daughter if you would. I think it would be fitting to announce our lengthened ceasefire after visiting to make sure she is recovering.”

“It would be my pleasure,” James said, being even more keen to check in with Georgia as Reverus was. However, as Reverus and Wesran lead him and Becket through Justice’s corridors, his mind wasn’t focused on his daughter, but on this new enemy Humanity found itself facing. He was used to facing adversaries head-on in battle. He didn’t have the first idea how one set about fighting an enemy that was an expert at hiding in the shadows.

Yet he did know a couple of people who did. Christine and his niece’s husband, Rear Admiral Alvarez would know exactly where to start. Which means I’m going home, James thought to himself, causing him to smile despite the worrying revelations of the last hour. Though he had only left Earth six weeks ago, he was already homesick. His smile widened as he thought of seeing Christine again and being able to celebrate the fact Georgia hadn’t been lost to them.

Epilogue

Rarmanca waited an hour, then a second, and even a third as she hid in the asteroid field waiting for the shooting to start. Yet it never did. As time continued to drag on, her forked tongue flicked in and out faster and faster. Her tail twitched towards her COM unit several times. She wanted to know what was going on. There were at least two other assets within the Human and Eagleton fleets that she hadn’t compromised yet. An accurate laser COM link would allow her to speak to one and find out just what was happening. Yet it was far too risky. Any one of the thousands of ships in front of her could pick it up too. If they did, her cover would be blown, and that would be the end of her career.

Her impatience grew to the point where her body suddenly started shaking. Never before had she been so frustrated! The shaking scared her, however, for Rarmanca usually took great pride in her self-control. Enough of this, she thought to herself. Sitting and waiting would accomplish nothing. Slithering out of her command chair, she moved into the small room behind her ship’s cockpit. Crawling up into her nest, she coiled her body and tried to sleep. Though she was exhausted, she had to run her mind through several meditation techniques to calm it down enough to the point where sleep finally took her.

Having forgotten to set an alarm to wake her, she slept for a full fourteen hours. The moment she awoke, she realized her mistake. At once, she was out of her nest and back into her cockpit. She swore when she saw the time. The battle could have been fought and finished while she had been sleeping. Then she swore again when she saw both fleets hadn’t moved!

Something has happened, she said to herself. She was sure of it. The ceasefire the Eaglatons and Humans had initially agreed had ended four hours ago. At the very least, both fleets should have moved away from one another. Yet they were still close enough to communicate in real time. Rarmanca shook her head in anger. Somehow, she had made the situation worse. She couldn’t understand how, but she had.

Do they suspect someone else is responsible? Rarmanca asked herself. It wasn’t impossible. Her mission had been rushed. She had been forced to take far too many risks. And yet, the Eaglatons and Humans had just spent several months smashing their fleets against one another. All it should have taken to reignite the fighting was a small spark, and she had provided far more than that.

Once again, the urge to try and contact one of her assets welled up within Rarmanca. She was certain that if she could find out what was happening, she’d be able to do something about it. Yet the risk was too great. You have exposed yourself too much already, she told herself. There’s nothing more you can do here. Either they will resume fighting, or they won’t.

Summoning another meditation technique, Rarmanca calmed her mind. She needed to think clearly, for what she did decide to do next could prove crucial. One option was to head to Earth. That was the best chance she had of finding out just what had gone on between Emperor Somerville and Reverus, or his subordinates if the Eaglaton Admiral had been killed by her bomb. And if the fighting did end up resuming, she would soon hear of it.

Earth was also the place where she could have the biggest impact on whether the war continued or not, for she had far more assets on Earth than in the Eaglatons’ capital of Eyrious. Usually being reminded of that fact irked her, for she had been working on Eyrious for more than eighty years. But the simple fact was that it was far easier to find a Human that could be corrupted than an Eaglaton. And today, she had far bigger problems playing on her mind.

Her second option, the one Rarmanca admitted she really should take, was to head out beyond the Human Empire’s southern borders and locate High Queen Ala’ron. She had made a deal with the Flex-aor High Queen that the High Queen was not keeping. Instead of raiding Human worlds, the Flex-aor had disappeared. She needs to be brought to task and reminded who has gifted her, her freedom, Rarmanca said to herself. But, she thought as a thin Silizzeras smile spread across her lips. That doesn’t mean you can’t stop by Earth and put a few plans into motion. Then once I find Ala’ron I can come back and things should already be progressing nicely!

And then it may be time to revisit the Antarians and see if they can’t be encouraged to increase the pace of their colonization, Rarmanca decided. For if the Eaglatons and Humans weren’t going to dance to her tune, she had others that might. And at least the Karacknids can be counted upon, she thought. Of all the species she dealt with, they were the easiest, for their motives were plain and never hidden; they always wanted to bring glory to themselves by conquering all those around them, and Tanaka-lan was no different.

Rarmanca smiled as she input the coordinates for the Humans’ wormhole. Even if she had been foiled here today, she still had many cards yet to play. There will be no dominant species in this sector of the galaxy to threaten my homeworld. Not today and not in a thousand years! She swore as her ship left the Eaglatons and the Humans to their own devices.

*

IS Kestrel, 19th July 2510 AD, (three days later).

As the shuttle touched down in Kestrel’s hanger, Jonathan was the only one waiting for it. He had ordered the hanger cleared to protect his sister from any embarrassment. When his dad appeared, holding Georgia upright as she limped towards the shuttle’s access ramp, Jonathan started forward to lend another hand. His dad waved him away, however. Jonathan nodded. His sister had never liked accepting help, and his dad had probably had to argue her into letting him lend the help he was giving.

“Welcome aboard,” he said when their feet touched Kestrel’s deck. He reached out and gently touched Georgia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said hastily when she winced.

“It’s okay,” Georgia said. “Everywhere is tender.” She then smiled at him. “Thank you for the welcome. It’s good to be up and about and out of sick bay.”

“I’m glad you were well enough to travel with us,” Jonathan said. “Though I do have my doctor on standby in case you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine, I just need time to keep healing,” Georgia said.

Jonathan nodded as he shared a look with his dad. They had both spent hours by her bedside over the last few days, and they had both seen the extent of the damage she had suffered. Most of the skin had been burnt from her back, along with about sixty percent of her muscle. The skin had now largely been regrown, along with some of her muscle, and her augments were allowing Georgia to get by without the muscle, but Victory’s doctor had said it would take several months before she was really back to normal. And even then, she would have to go through a pretty intensive rehabilitation program to get back the full range of motion she had enjoyed before.

But she will get it back, Jonathan reminded himself as he couldn’t help but stare at his sister’s bent-over form. Given the news that Rear Admiral Salamanca had just passed away from his injuries suffered in the same attack, Jonathan couldn’t help being filled with relief. It could so easily have been Georgia too. It really should have been.

“Shall we retire to our quarters to get her settled in?” James suggested, unaware of his son’s thoughts.

“Of course,” Jonathan replied. “This way, I’ve given you both my quarters for the trip.”

Georgia shook her head. “That’s not necessary, you are the Captain.”

Jonathan chuckled. “And who do you think our dad is? The Emperor. Do you think any other Captain would hesitate to give up their quarters? And besides, the two of you will be more comfortable there.”

“I’d be more comfortable on my own,” Georgia replied.

This time, James laughed. “And what do you think your mother would say if she found out I stuffed you in some Lieutenant’s quarters and enjoyed myself in Jonathan’s?”

Georgia rolled her eyes. “I suppose I couldn’t do that to you.”

James nodded. “Exactly, so let’s go and get settled in and then, I have something I wish to share with you both.”

“Then let’s get going,” Jonathan said. “This way,” he added as he turned and slowly led them out of the hanger bay. As they walked, he activated his COM unit. “Cortez, our guests have arrived, you may get us moving.”

“Yes, Captain, we will detach from the fleet immediately,” Cortez replied.

When they got to Jonathan’s quarters, none of them were surprised to see Fox and Heaton had already moved all of James and Georgia’s stuff in. They also had some drinks and refreshments laid out for them.

James gently helped Georgia down in the comfiest looking seat, then brought her a plate of food. He and Jonathan joined her. Though he intentionally didn’t turn the conversation to the Eaglatons and the bombing, Georgia quickly did.

“So tell me,” she said after taking a sip. “Have you found out who planted the bomb yet? No one has been able to tell me anything. Everyone has been confused by the extension of the ceasefire, and now you’re leaving the fleet. I know Reverus said it was because of what I did for him, but I know Reverus, he would never change his entire strategic outlook over one small action.”

“Yes, there has to be more to it than that,” Jonathan agreed. “Is the war not going to continue?”

James smiled at his daughter. “I wouldn’t call saving the life of an enemy Admiral a small action.” His voice hardened a little. “Not when you put your own life in danger. That’s something your mother and I are going to want to talk to you about.” He lightened his voice again. “But you are both right. There is more to it than that. What I’m about to tell you must stay between the three of us. So far only Becket, Maleck, Davenport, and Nicholls know. When we get back to Earth, that circle will be expanding a little, but not by much. Do you understand?”

“Of course, father,” Jonathan said formally. Georgia nodded too.

James took a deep breath, and then began telling them everything Becket and Wesran had discovered. When he was done, they had many questions, most of which he was not able to answer, or at least, his replies were no more than guesses.

“What does that mean for us, how can we help?” Jonathan asked once they had no more questions about the mysterious alien.

“Right now, not a great deal,” James answered. “Your responsibility is to bring Kestrel back to Earth and make sure she gets the repair she needs. As for you,” he said as he turned to Georgia and smiled. “Your priority is to get back on your feet. It may take months, or even years, to figure out who these aliens are, and just how much of an influence they have over our affairs. But you both need to be kept in the loop, for if something were to happen to me, or your mother, you may have to take over.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Nothing is going to happen to you two. You’re both indestructible.”

James smiled at his son. “I hope so. But I’ve seen too many good people lost in the past to make such an assumption. And now, I think you both have, too. It’s time to start thinking about both of you and your siblings taking on more responsibilities when it comes to governing our Empire.”

As Jonathan and Georgia turned to one another, James recognized the look on their faces. Neither liked that idea. He understood, for he too had hated having to give up his freedom as a Captain for more responsibility. Yet everyone had to do it eventually, that was the problem with being a successful combat officer; the more success you had, the more promotions took you away from the parts of the job you loved the most.

“But you’re not taking Kestrel away from me?” Jonathan asked in concern.

“And once I’m recovered, I’m returning to my squadron,” Georgia insisted.

James raised his hands, palms towards them. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about removing you from your positions. I’m just saying you need to be more involved in the decision-making process. You have to understand how things work in case you do need to take over in an emergency. With this new enemy, we don’t know what the future holds. If they can sneak a bomb into my flagship and into a meeting with foreign representatives, who knows what else they could do if they wanted?”

“You mean an attack on the Palace?” Jonathan asked.

James shrugged his shoulders. “Although we know little about this alien species’ motives, clearly, they want us to be at war. If they are behind the secessionist movement, then perhaps what they really want is us weakened. Killing your mother and I would accomplish that.” James shook his head at the fear on both his children’s faces. “I’m not saying that’s likely to happen, only that we would be fools if we didn’t plan for it.”

“Well,” Jonathan said. “I’m not going to refuse. I’ll do whatever you think is needed. But once Kestrel is fully repaired, I hope the Admiralty will have a new mission for us. Perhaps we will be needed to patrol this new demilitarized zone. Or maybe even The Wilds,” Jonathan said as his face lit up. “With the Karacknid Civil War coming to an end, we’ll be redeploying most of our ships back to the northern borders, won’t we?”

“I imagine so,” James said with a nod. “Though we will have to keep significant forces at Bastion just in case, for as much as I trust Reverus, there is no telling what will happen when he returns to his homeworld with news that he has made a peace deal with his people’s enemy. And your aunt is still hunting the Flex-aor, though that trail appears to have grown cold. So yes, there are many threats out there you both will still have to face. I’m not talking about locking you up in the Palace just yet. As much as I’d like that!”

Georgia shook her head. “I’m still struggling to get my head around it all. After so much death and loss. And now, it’s all been for nothing.”

“Not nothing!” James said, more forcefully than he intended. His emotions were still raw after learning of Salamanca’s death. Though his friend had risen to the rank of Rear Admiral, James still thought of him as the young Lieutenant who had served on his command staff all those years ago.

“We have been fighting the wrong enemy, yes, but it was a fight we had to win,” James said, reigning in his emotions. “Think about what would have happened if your brother hadn’t been able to open the wormhole with Achilles? Or if you and Becket hadn’t been able to open it a second time with your crazy fighter charge?”

James had thought about this a lot over the last several days, and so answered his own question, passion still in his voice. “The Eaglatons would have blocked us out of this sector of space and then supposedly liberated the Conclave species. Whilst they might have realized their mistake in time, it could have taken years, if they would have ever admitted it at all. In the meantime, we and they probably would have ended up fighting the Karacknids separately, whereas now, there is a chance we may actually fight side by side in the future.

“So, our losses were not for nothing. For while we thought we were fighting the Eaglatons, we were really fighting the lies of this new species. And now we have not only kept the wormhole open, we also know about them. So all the death and loss we have suffered has given us this chance to figure out what has really been going on all these years.”

James paused as he looked from his son to his daughter, he needed them to understand just how significant their victories were, even if it wasn’t in the conventional sense. “But it does mean we have to make it worthwhile,” he continued. “All those who have died in this war have done so to give us a chance. One that we cannot waste. Reverus and I are determined that this be the case, and I need you two to join and help me.”

“We will father, we will,” Jonathan promised.

“We will,” Georgia agreed.

James let out a breath. “Good,” he said with a smile. “Because we are going to need both of you. Of that, I am sure. Now, let’s turn the conversation to a more light-hearted topic, shall we? We have over a month until we get back to Earth, and once we get there, I fear we’re going to be split up again, and pulled in a hundred different directions, so I want to make the most of this time. Which is why I was thinking,” James said as he winked at Georgia. “It’s about time we started discussing my eldest son’s marriage prospects. For if he is ever going to succeed me, he will need a competent wife at his side!”

Georgia grinned at her father’s words. “That sounds like just the topic to distract me from all the pain I’m in. So tell me, brother of mine,” she purred as she turned to Jonathan. “Are there any women that have caught your eye recently? Or maybe you have been hoping mum and dad would play match maker for you?”

James shared his daughter’s grin as Jonathan turned a bright red. Despite the new mysterious threat that they now faced; he was going to enjoy the journey home. A brief respite before the next threat, he told himself, certain that things wouldn’t be remaining peaceful for long, for if it wasn’t the Flex-aor or the Karacknids who would soon be encroaching on Human worlds once again, he was now certain this new enemy would conjure up something else to try and tear down everything he and his wife and their people had built. But you messed up this time, he thought towards the alien. And when you do again, we will be ready for you.

The End.

I hope you have enjoyed this continuation of the Empire Rising Series and are looking forward to the next installment where James, Jonathan and Georgia will have to confront the rising Silizzeras threat.

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