Imperial Gambit

Archangel One Book Three

Evan Currie

Copyright © 2022 Evan Currie

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Prologue

Imperial World Kraike

“Well, Fleet Commander,” The Empress spoke softly to herself as she looked over the report. “Not precisely what I expected from you, but impressive nonetheless.”

“Indeed,” The Emperor said, looking over his daughter’s shoulder. “It would appear that Fleet Commander Mich has learned a degree of… subtlety from his recent tribulations.”

The Empress nodded absently, considering the situation.

Traditionally, a Fleet Commander of the Empire had little need for anything of the sort. Subtle interactions were not, after all, a hallmark of the Empire in the modern era. As a rule, power… well, ruled. Subtle interactions were for the weak.

Still, there was a good argument that the Empire was weak in the region that the Fleet Commander was working. The Free Stars were a useful location to the Empire, providing disposable training options for Imperial crews and commanders, as well as some vital materials on occasion. The material in question this time was extremely valuable, enough so that under normal circumstances the Empire would have secured it a long time past. However, it was located too deep in the Free Stars and too far from Imperial borders to be properly secured.

Allowing the locals, in this case the Hele Protectorate, to secure and mine the material for the Empire had been an acceptable alternative. Now, however, this little band of pirates… of all things… had placed the weakness of that arrangement out in the open for all to see.

“If they’re so pitiful as to lose their most vital star to a small band of pirates who, by all reports, intentionally crippled their own fighting capabilities in order to preserve the lives of slaves…” She shook her head. “I agree with the Fleet Commander, I believe. Returning the system to the Protectorate is an… unpalatable option.”

“Agreed,” The Emperor said as he turned to look out over the great city that sprawled out from the base of the Imperial tower. “What level of forces do you intend to leave in the area?”

The Empress took a breath, both considering the question and recognizing the test inherent in it.

It was tempting to leave a squadron, at least, if not a full Fleet Element. The Neutron Star material there was of inestimable value to the Empire, especially given their recent loss to the potential Xenos who had teamed with the cowards and traitors of Oather space. However, as she had come to know more well than she’d have preferred, the logistics of stationing any element that large so far from the Empire’s lines would be… problematic.

“A single ship, I believe,” she said after a moment. “Nothing large. Something disposable, but with long range capabilities.”

The emperor nodded, “Reasoning?”

“If the Imperial flag isn’t sufficient to deter the locals, then an appropriate fleet can be dispatched to… instruct them in the forms of respect the flag deserves,” she said firmly. “If they leave it be, then we gain the materials at minimum cost. If they have the audacity to assault the system despite our ship, then we gain an excellent bit of propaganda to shake up the border worlds and an excuse to dispatch a fleet to correct their error. It will be good training.”

“Acceptable.”

She smiled slightly at the approval in her father’s voice, but the slight smile on his face disappeared a moment later.

“What preparations should be made?” he asked.

Another test, she thought, mind running over the possibilities. “Preparations, father?”

“Should they test the Imperial resolve, there will be inevitable disruptions.”

“Our fleets will lay waste to them.”

“Of course, but in the interim, the Empire will be without a shipment, possibly more, of the Neutron Star Material,” The Emperor said patiently.

“Ah,” The young Empress slumped slightly. “I had missed that. Yes, we should stockpile materials then.”

“Very good.”

“I will make a note and…”

“Your Majesty!”

The Empress twisted, glaring at the intruder to her personal offices. She clamped down on the anger at the intrusion, though, knowing that none of her people were likely to burst in without cause.

“What is it?” She demanded in a cold tone she’d practiced until it could flay a being down to the soul if needed.

The intruder was an officer she recognized, part of the Intelligence division, and not the sort she’d have expected to come rushing in to interrupt her time with her father.

“Your Majesty,” he said stiffly, bowing tightly. “Elements of the eighth fleet have returned to Imperial space.

A cold chill went down her spine.

“Elements?” She asked softly, rising from her desk and stepping out from around it. “What of the rest?”

*****

Imperial Command

This is insanity. What could have happened to draw Commander Birch into such a position?

The reports from the survivors of the Eighth Fleet were damning, somehow the entire group had been lured into a trap and defeated entail. Only the Commander’s final order prevented a total loss by all official accounts, but that made no sense to her as she read over the words drawn from the interrogations and reports of the survivors.

Emilia Starsbane had not expected this outcome of assigning her old friend to the problem of the Oather colonies. None of them had.

These Xeno are becoming more than a mere affront to humanity, they are becoming a personal insult to my own name.

“What of Fleet Commander Birch?” She demanded softly, her tone brooking no doubt to the seriousness of the question.

“Apologies, your Majesty,” An intelligence officer spoke up. “Her ship was struck down moments after she ordered the retreat.”

Emilia’s face froze, anger waging a war with sorrow and winning handily.

They dared… She seethed internally. They dared strike down Helena’s ship? I will make them pay for this.

“I want full reports of all actions taken by the eighth since they left imperial space to the conclusion of the final battle,” She ordered. “And I want them by morning.”

The intelligence officer choked, “Your Majesty…”

“By morning, Sub-Commander, or you will not like the consequences.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Emilia rose from the command center, eyes lingering on the displays that showed the current disposition of the ships that had once been part of the Eighth Fleet.

You’ll be avenged.

*****

Confederation Detention Facility Ares, Former Mars Orbit

Helena Birch looked around the small cell with some distaste, but in all honesty, she had seen far worse in her years. She’d even been a guest in one or two that made her current facilities look rather upscale.

An occupational hazard of an intelligence officer in the field, I suppose.

Her career had been atypical for the Imperial Forces. She’d spent more time in the field than in the command chair than the vast majority of Imperial Officers. Most of which spent no time in the field, intentionally at least, and if they did it was normally a fairly cushy rear echelon position or, for those that weren’t total wastes, a front forward combat position.

Her time had been spent well past the front lines, normally working with limited resources while surrounded by enemies of one type or another.

Well, my resources are a little more limited than normal, I have to admit that much, she thought wryly. But the surrounded by enemies part does feel rather comfortably familiar.

The people who’d taken her prisoner had been rather nice about things, oddly enough. The food was good, the accommodations… while not up to Noble specifications, were certainly not particularly objectionable to her…

And I have the feeling that if I did object, these people would be happy to find me something more suitable…

That was the issue she was dealing with, actually. Thus far they hadn’t even attempted an interrogation. Beyond asking her name and confirming that she had commanded the fleet, which she’d seen little point in lying about given that they’d captured elements of the fleet’s computer systems, there hadn’t been much question as to her identity.

Still, it had been weeks now, perhaps more than a month.

Long enough for the surviving elements to get home to the Empire. I hope most made it.

The intervening time had been largely one of boredom, though again her captors had been rather pleasant about providing entertainment. Most of which had been translated to Imperial with atrocious accents, but it was an impressive attempt, nonetheless.

Most of her fellow Fleet Commanders would likely have been puzzled in the extreme by the treatment, but Birch was familiar with the technique being employed. It wasn’t one that the Empire made much use of, however, largely due to the impatience of those in the command structure.

The soft touch was the sign of a true professional, someone interested in real results, not the sort of results you got under torture.

Who are these people?

*****

Admiral Gracen eyed the woman on the screen curiously.

They had taken prisoners before, something the enemy had not yet attempted as best they could tell, but this woman represented the highest ranked Imperial Officer they’d managed to get their hands on. What that would mean going forward, honestly no one seemed ready to make any guesses at.

From their observations, however, the woman was disciplined, intelligent, and observant in the extreme. Gracen had little doubt that she was cataloging every detail she’d been exposed to, on the off chance she got a chance to report it back to the Empire.

That was why they were carefully censoring her access to anything resembling intelligence assets. Even the entertainment being provided was being pulled from TV and Movies from the last century, well prior to the Block War and sanitized of anything that might give hints about realistic combat deployments.

Conversations with her had been inconclusive to this point, however, as she was also clearly trained in counter-intelligence techniques.

Which was, to Gracen’s mind, the single best piece of news they had yet.

You didn’t give someone that level of training if they weren’t expected to need it, as a rule, and if they needed it… it meant that they had something worth protecting.

Gracen was already fighting off elements from other branches who wanted access to the woman, too many of them locked into the stupid way of doing things.

Torture was somewhat out of vogue in the Confederation and its allies, but too many people still thought that there was a difference if you just called it ‘Enhanced Interrogation’ instead. Gracen would be damned if she let any of those ham-handed imbeciles near this woman.

There were ways to filter out bad intelligence from good even when using enhanced techniques, but ultimately the downsides of acting like barbarians were too entrenched for her taste. Sooner or later, they’d be releasing these people. Sending them home with stories of monsters to regale their fellows with was not in the interest of the Confederation so far as Gracen was concerned.

Getting good intel, however, was.

“When will you begin?” Gracen asked, looking at the Intel Man standing silently beside her.

Gregory Magg shrugged, “Shortly I expect. She’s adjusted well to the new location, not even opted to complain about the facilities. Mildly surprising, and a little disappointing since we’d prepped a nicer set of quarters for her to move to once she did. I think she knows the play, though.”

Gracen snorted, “Most likely. That woman’s been on the sharp end more than once in her life.”

“That would be our read as well. Intelligence, maybe, at the very least she’s done time in the trenches.”

Gracen nodded, thinking to the report from the Odysseus… and from Odysseus him, her, or itself.

She had little love for the entity in question, or any of them, but the information that came from Odysseus in this case fit with the intelligence officers’ expectations near perfectly. She almost wished that she could have kept the Odysseus in Sol Space a while longer, just to have access to the mind-reading capabilities of the ship, but the flagship and its entire squadron were still required to show the flag and respond to any further Imperial interventions.

How are they going to react to this?

*****

Chapter One

NACS Odysseus Task Group, Edge of Priminae Space

Commodore Eric Stanton Weston stood over the bridge from the admiralty deck, looking on as his people got around to their jobs. The group had been reinforced and gained a few ships in response to the losses they’d taken to entrap the Imperial fleet some weeks earlier.

Some ships, like the Bo, were still in port for repairs and would be for the foreseeable future. They’d taken a beating to make sure that the enemy held in place long enough for Admiral Rael and the Priminae forces to close in and drop the boom on the enemy, but that was sometimes what had to be done, he supposed.

Now they were looking out over the edge of the space claimed by the Priminae, waiting really, to see what the Empire’s next move would be.

Eric was, himself, looking out at the star cluster that made up the core of Imperial territory, or as best they could be certain.

Captain Passer and the Rogues had scoped out the edges of Imperial space during the first few encounters they’d had with the Imps. Since then, reports from Steph’s Archangel squadron had expanded on that information, as well as filling in a lot about a section of space on the far side of the Imperial stars from the perspective of humanity.

They were a long ways off, however, at least in terms of stellar distances. Almost a thousand lightyears from the edge of Imperial Space to the first star systems that the Priminae considered their own. Earth was a little farther, though canted off slightly negative to the Galactic plane.

That meant that even at the maximum warp available using the Imperial and Priminae drives, it took weeks for ships to move between the two stellar polities.

Assuming they managed it, the remnants of the fleet should have reached Imperial space not long ago. How much more time, I wonder, before we see a response here?

In many ways, the strategic movement of ships mirrored the tactical deployments he was becoming used to since captaining the original Odyssey. Strategy was less about being clever with maneuvers and much more about just knowing the math that defined the options available to yourself and your enemy.

If you knew the math, and you knew your enemy, there was shockingly little they could really do to surprise you… it took getting really clever to pull off that sort of thing in space.

It wasn’t impossible, though.

You just needed to get… creative.

*****

Captain’s Ready Room

“Oh dear.”

Miram looked over at the sound of a voice where she’d been quite certain that there was no person to create such a sound, sighing almost inaudibly when she saw the familiar form of Odysseus standing in the corner. He was in his more subdued look, one that incorporated tasteful cosmetics and modern looking armor in the place of the antique and bizarre look he’d originally preferred.

She much preferred this look, which was likely the reason he had chosen to appear in it.

“Precisely, Commander.”

“Please don’t do that,” Miram said wearily. “It’s creepy to have your thoughts responded to.”

“Apologies,” Odysseus said with a shrug. "It is… my nature.”

“Understood, just try, please.”

“I will, Ma’am.”

Miram nodded curtly before she visibly pulled her train of thought back where it had been before being derailed as it had been.

“What was the oh dear for?” She asked, curious.

“The Commodore is thinking about getting… creative, Ma’am.” Odysseus said, almost sourly as he genuinely looked discomforted by the thought.

Not that I can blame him for that, she thought. The idea of Weston getting creative was enough to put her on edge too.

“The Commodore is the Commodore, Odysseus,” was all she said aloud. However, her smirk in his direction, and Odysseus’ own returning smile, was all they needed to communicate her true thoughts and confirm that he’d heard them.

She’d come to… not like the entity precisely, but certainly appreciate him more once he’d stopped acting out with his… she wasn’t even really certain what his issues were, if she were honest, but the more seriously he’d taken shipboard discipline the more she found it easy to, in turn, take him seriously as well.

“I’m sure that he’ll get plenty of chances to be creative in time,” she said after a moment. “But for now, there’s no sign of any enemy.”

Odysseus nodded, “Most likely a few weeks before we’ll see a concerted response, at a minimum.”

Miram glanced over curiously, “Did you calculate that, or someone else?”

The entity flushed, or appeared to, slightly.

“The Commodore, Ma’am,” He admitted.

Miram nodded, unsurprised. “And you understand the basis of his calculation?”

“Yes ma’am. Transit time, reaction time, politics.”

“Very good,” Miram said, getting up and walking out from behind her desk. “Knowing your enemy is good, but understanding their logistics is often better. No matter how they might want to respond, they’ll have limits that dictate their response far more than any desires they might want to indulge.”

“Yes Ma’…”

Odysseus paused, half turning as his eyes grew vague in a look that she’d come to recognize.

“What is it?”

“I believe that the vessels we’ve been waiting for have made their appearance, Ma’am.”

“Excellent,” Miram said, heading for the door. “I’ll see you on the bridge.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

*****

Teach’s Spoils, Freighter formerly of the Hele Protectorate

“Positive contact, Sir.”

“Very good, Lieutenant,” The man at the console said casually as he looked up from what he’d been doing.

He was only a Senior Lieutenant himself, and the crewman he’d addressed wasn’t even that technically, but it was close enough for government work he supposed. Just to be sure that his prize crew had gotten the signals data correct he got up and walked over to the old comms station and did a personal check to confirm them.

Everything looked good, thankfully, given how many teratons of strange matter they were currently shipping. He didn’t need or want any screwups.

“We’re being hailed, Captain.”

“To my station,” He ordered, taking the signal to the quasi-private station that belonged to the captain of the vessel. Checking the query quickly he punched in his codes and opened a channel back.

“Odysseus Squadron, Lieutenant Jarod Kimble.”

“Welcome to Priminae Space, Lieutenant,” the friendly voice came back. “We received your contact request. Looks like you’re carrying a hefty load.”

“Roger that, and we’d like to get rid of it and get back to the squadron ASAP.”

“Very good, pull to the marked heading and we’ll move collier’s alongside to transfer cargo. Looks like it’ll take a few.”

That was a bit of an understatement, the Spoils was a captured Hele Protectorate freighter. Not much to look at, ran rougher than it looked, but the one thing it could do was haul never-ending piles of stuff. Confederate Colliers would take forever to transship the cargo they had.

Thankfully, there was another choice.

“Be advised, the Spoils can cut loose the cargo pods. Suggest we do that and let the colliers take them in tow.” He suggested.

Now that provoked a pause, unsurprisingly, before the voice returned.

“Roger that, Spoils, drop pods when ready.”

Kimble looked up, “Disconnect the cargo pins.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Here’s where we drop it.”

“Yes Sir.”

The people manning the bridge were, unsurprisingly, confused and more than a little distressed by the command. He didn’t really blame them, of course. The sheer value in the Neutronium they were offloading here was beyond what all of them combined might reasonably see in their lifetimes. Their normal procedures would result in their execution for losing even a fraction of what he was ordering be left drifting.

They followed orders, though, and the ship shook a little as the pins were pulled one after another, and cargo containers were kicked loose from the framework of the ship.

Lots more of those where these came from, He noted as he watched a few of them twist slowly away from the Spoils as they continued on their ballistic course.

“Cargo separation confirmed. Colliers moving to intercept,” The Odysseus’ control told him. “Do you require any supplies?”

“Negative, we’re returning to AO,” Kimble said.

“Roger that, Lieutenant. Good sailing.”

“Thank you, Odysseus.”

“Commodore extends his compliments and has sent a private message to be delivered to Commander Stephens.”

“I’ll be sure that he gets it, Odysseus. The Spoils thanks the Commodore for the compliments, and we’ll see you all next time. Spoils out,” Kimble said, looking over to his Helm officer. “Take us out of the system, course has already been entered into the computers.”

“A… aye, Captain.”

Kimble relaxed, pleased with how the away operation had gone. Getting a short command under his belt would look good on promotion reports, even if it were a freighter, and not screwing it up was always a bonus.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Eric watched the ratty looking freighter as it pulled out of the gravity well, curving back around and accelerating as it established a solid warp bubble.

“Powerful engines,” He noted, checking the numbers.

“Would have to be, hauling that load,” Miram told him. “Check the manifest.”

Eric arched an eyebrow curiously as he loaded up the file she’d directed him to. The whistle he let out could be heard all the way down to the Bridge from where he was sitting.

“That’s a lot of Neutronium and strange matter.” He said after a bit.

Neutronium and Neutron Strange Matter were key parts of a ship’s drive, providing the intensely localized mass needed to efficiently model a ship’s gravity bubble, ensuring that warp drives operated at peak. Terran designs could do without it, but they didn’t even approach the drive efficiency of a Priminae or Imperial drive due to the lack.

“R&D will love this delivery,” he said after a bit. “Do we have the tow capacity to pull that much?”

“Crunching those numbers now,” Miram admitted. “At the very least, we should be able to haul most of it with the colliers, but at reduced performance. The rest can be taken aboard the cruisers.”

“Alright, might as well make it happen,” He ordered. “Nothing else keeping us out here just yet.”

Miram nodded, quickly issuing the orders as Eric turned his focus back out to the black beyond the ship he resided in.

Good luck and good hunting, Archangels.

*****

Chapter Two

Archangel Lead, Collapsed Neutron System, Free Stars

Steph made his way through the narrow hatches and corridors of the little gunboat, dodging other crew members nimbly as he made his way to the command room.

Tyke was already there, waiting for him as he arrived, but that was fine.

Since they’d taken, and defended the system against an attempt to retake it, they’d been largely in a waiting mode. Repairs and maintenance were now up to date, and everyone was itching to get back into things. But for the moment they were learning more just sitting here than they had in the previous months of flying around kicking up a stink.

The Imperial fleet had stuck around, just… watching mostly, while they helped the locals get positioned to properly run the local mining job, but even just watching was telling Steph a lot more than he expected the Imperials would have wanted them to know.

“Imperial’s still running repair and maintenance drills?” He asked as he dropped into the command station and looked over the numbers.

“Yes sir, not that they’re doing a great job of it,” Tyke said, nodding to the screen. “That’s a patch on a hull breach. Probably caught a chunk of rock that got through their warp field by the looks of it.”

Steph nodded absently as he looked at the repair job.

The weld didn’t suck, he could see that immediately, but the material was all wrong. Steph checked the spectral analysis right quick before snorting.

“That’s not even armor rated metal,” he said after consulting the findings and comparing them to the cheat sheet of material specifications. “What the hell are they doing?”

“Field expedient repairs, best I can tell,” Tyke said with a shake of his head. “The alloy they’re using is easier to work with.”

“No doubt, but it won’t stop a micro-meteorite strike, let alone weapons fire.” Steph retorted.

The Empire, like every group they’d run into since exploring past the fringes of the Sol system, was a mass of flying contradictions that just got worse every time they found out something new. Combative, but low innovation. Aggressive, yet oddly hesitant by times. The list just went on and on, leaving Steph with the concern that if he ever did work out the nature of the Imperial people, it would be evidence that he’d officially lost his marbles.

Not that most of my friends would be able to tell the difference, I suppose, He thought wryly.

“I wonder what caused the damage in the first place,” Tyke offered up. “They didn’t get into a fight while in this system.”

“Huh, point.” Steph admitted, looking closer at the display. “How many spot repairs have they done?”

The computer answered that a moment later, using passive scans of the Imperial ships and running the data through the total spectrum analysis to get the results.

Tyke whistled, “That’s a lot of field expedient repairs.”

“It’s also combat damage,” Steph frowned. “I know that the Empire has been mixing it up a bit locally, but that looks like more than I expected the locals to have inflicted on them… Hang on, what’s this?”

He highlighted a section of repairs, expanding it on the screen, and set the computer analysing the results. When they came back, Steph slumped back in his seat, stunned.

“I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“That’s damage from our weapons.”

Tyke twisted, “We didn’t fire on them.”

“The Odysseus did, months ago,” Steph responded. “The radioactive decay in the material around the edges matches hits from Pulse Torpedoes, if only glancing and scattered strikes. They’ve had months, why the hell haven’t they put in for proper repairs?”

Tyke shrugged, “I can’t say I know, but it’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Steph mused as he logged the information and took a moment to backup the data and send it across to the other Archangels as well.

Frightfully interesting, in fact.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

“Fascinating,” Jesan Mich, Fleet Commander of the Third, said as he looked over the scans they’d been gathering of the small mercenary vessels.

They were even more startlingly small up close than their readings had left him to believe from earlier encounters. They had very little weapon potential, however, and their drives had a depressingly low maximum output range.

Nothing I would want to take into a fight, but they have managed a more than respectable showing for themselves all the same.

Thus far their Captain, this… Teach… was being careful about revealing their proper port of call, but he wasn’t surprised by that. As best he could determine they were likely working for one of the minor pocket empires in the region, likely as a deniable force. Being linked to their actual port of origin would mean failing in their mission if he were correct about that.

It had to be a government with resources, however, because these ships were nothing like the pieces of junk that were fielded normally all through the region. Destroyers barely able to fly under their own power was more the calling card of the local governments than these tiny strike ships.

That meant someone was getting imaginative, which might not be a problem… but it could very well become one if left unchecked.

For the moment, however, their operations had been a boon to the Empire, so he was inclined to leave them be… assuming the Empress had no particular desires to see them eradicated.

Speaking of which…

Mich got up and walked across the command deck.

“Have we heard back from the Imperial Capitol yet?” He asked, knowing that the return message should be arriving soon if it hadn’t already.

“Not yet, Fleet Commander,” The communications officer responded. “Normal communications traffic for the region, nothing from the long-range relays.”

“Understood, inform me immediately when a response arrives.”

“Yes, Fleet Commander.”

If the Empress wanted this little squadron wiped out, now would be the time to do it, with his ships already in close proximity to them at a zero/zero relative velocity. Jesan didn’t like the thought of having to hunt them down in open space, simply because he had little doubt that they would drive circles around him before vanishing into the dark of space.

Bringing them to an engagement would be the work of some significant expenditure of blood and sweat, and more than likely quite a few tears of frustration too.

Ultimately, he was certain he could do it, but it would not be fun.

*****

Flying Dutchman

Milla tried not to think too hard about the presence of the Imperial Fleet she knew to be floating just a few thousand kilometers from her current position. She had work to do on the little captured destroyer they’d taken and been using as the squadron’s flagship since entering the so called ‘Free Stars’.

It had been a not so minor miracle that the ship had even still been flying when she first boarded it, and she wasn’t referring to the battle damage inflicted on it by Stephan. No, just the lack of proper upkeep had shocked her to her core upon seeing it.

Since then, they’d managed to secure decent materials for repairs, but it was an ongoing fight to get the Dutchman just back to what she would consider the minimum level of maintenance to be safe. Surprisingly, though, she’d gained a lot of respect for whoever had designed and built the little ship at whatever point in the past that had been.

It was a rugged, tough, and incredibly dependable design. If it hadn’t been, the Belj Empire would have undoubtedly lost it a long time before the Archangels captured it. According to the records, the Belj had captured it themselves, and some of the history hinted that they hadn’t been the first.

It was impossible to determine just how long the Dutchman had been floating around the Free Stars, getting shot up and repaired, repeatedly, before Stephens took it over.

Once, the Dutchman had been a very respectable little warship in its own right.

Today, well respectable might be pushing things just slightly, Milla supposed as she pushed down a smile at the thought.

With proper facilities, she could be returned to a decent level of operation, but who knows how long before that will happen?

*****

Archangel One, Gaia’s Revenge

“Enter.”

Seamus Gordon didn’t look up as the door scraped slightly as it slid aside to admit the Commander. He didn’t really have to, as there was only one person who came to visit him really.

“Mr. Gordon,” Steph said as he pulled down one of the foldaway seats in the wall and settled into it.

“Commander. I take it this is about our friends out there?” Gordon asked, rhetorically really. The Imperial ships were the only reason the Commander would have to visit his office.

“You could say that,” Steph said. “You know our mission brief as well as I do, maybe better in some regards.”

He hummed slightly, not really agreeing but certainly not disagreeing with the statement. “I suppose that’s one way of putting things. I take it you have a question for me?”

Steph nodded, his eyes absently scanning the room without really seeing any of it. Gordon could tell that his mind was elsewhere and stayed silent while he waited for the Commander to get his thoughts in line.

“We have a potential here,” Steph said finally. “I’m just not certain what potential it is. The plan has always been to work around the edge of the Empire, see how they interact with other areas in comparison to what we’ve seen with the Priminae and our own encounters.”

“True,” Gordon said, closing his computer screen and setting his hands on the desk, such as it was. “Reactions that I believe we can safely say holds pretty well no matter which group they choose to interact with.”

“Sadly so,” Steph agreed. “From what I’ve seen in interrogations, they seem to hold the Priminae in especially derisive ‘respect’, but they’re not really any different with the Free Stars in absolute terms.”

“Probably a little better,” Seamus corrected. “Mostly because the Free Stars have already been beaten down, made to submit. The Priminae, they seem to have revolted and refused to submit. Granted, they opted to run instead of fight… ultimately, at least, but the Empire likely still sees them as stubborn rebels.”

Steph couldn’t quite keep the laugh buried in his chest as it bubbled out.

“Sorry,” He apologized. “It’s just the idea of the Priminae being rebellious just…”

“I am aware of the… conflicting information, yes,” Gordon replied dryly. “But don’t ever mistake peaceful for harmless, Commander.”

“Last thing I would do,” Steph responded with a shake of his head. “The Priminae are many things, but they’re clearly not harmless.”

“Few people are, if any, in my experience.” Gordon responded. “The lack of obvious ability to inflict harm is a horrible metric to judge people on. The more harmless someone seems, the more shocking the result when you push them one inch too far.”

Steph nodded. He’d known people like that. Hell, Eric was like that out of uniform. Easy going, relaxed, generally just laughed off whatever was thrown his way.

Cross his lines, though, and you’d think you called down the Marines’ artillery on your own location.

“Well, whatever, we have an issue right now,” Steph said after a moment. “Do we push for more interactions with the Empire?”

Gordon sighed, leaning back.

There were good arguments for that move, he knew. There were also damn good ones for not pushing.

“I think…” He said slowly, “I think we don’t.”

Steph looked at him sharply, “I half expected you to be making the case, not the opposite.”

“If we were still in a shooting war, I probably would,” Gordon admitted. “As it stands, however, we have time. I think we should use it to do the job right.”

Steph nodded slowly, thinking that through. It was something of a relief to hear that coming from an intelligence specialist, since it was largely in keeping with his own ideas on the subject. The squadron was now well known to the local Imperial Fleet… they were even on a somewhat courteous level with them? Pushing felt like it would be asking for trouble.

“Still, keep your mind open,” Gordon said. “If there are any openings you can take advantage of, well that would be in keeping with our mercenary mind set, no?”

Steph smiled, “I do believe you’re right.”

Gordon shrugged, “Bound to happen eventually.”

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

“Fleet Commander.”

Jesan looked over, “Yes?”

“Hyper-traffic from the Capitol World, Sir.”

Jesan nodded. This was what he was waiting for. He got up and walked over to the secure comm, tapping the officer on the shoulder. They quickly cleared the seat for him, and he dropped into it even as he was entering his identification and security clearance. It was faster to do it directly at the comm than to have it transferred to his own secure station.

The message he wanted was flagged with the appropriate priority… wait no, actually it was slightly higher in priority than he expected.

Her Majesty signed off on this personally… interesting.

Jesan read through it quickly once, then started over more deliberately. There was nothing there that really stood out as vital to him, but the message… both overt and subtle, was nonetheless quite interesting.

For the moment he was to leave a single vessel to show the flag in the system, basically a challenge to the Free Stars polities. If any of them opted to take the bait, then it would be the Third Fleet’s job to come back in an effort to educate them of the errors in their thinking.

It made sense, from the point of view of the Empire. Minimal risk, potentially very high reward, and even if it failed it would provide benefits to the Empire.

A hallmark of the old Emperor’s thinking, Jesan noted with satisfaction, pleased to see that the emperor had passed on his better qualities to his daughter.

It did leave one interesting thread hanging slightly loose.

The mercenaries were, apparently, of no official interest to the Empire. Strictly speaking, he supposed that he could simply wipe them out now, but there was an underlying message in the note from the Empress that caught his focus.

She’s interested to see if we can push Imperial influence out into this region without actually deploying fleets to conquer and subjugate the region… and these mercenaries have provided us with the means to experiment.

He sighed, smiling lightly as he leaned back at the station.

I suppose it would be ungrateful to simply wipe them out, even ignoring the Empress’ interest for the moment. That does leave me with a somewhat uncomfortable position to deal from, however.

The Empire was, of course, flying death on mercenaries… well, the ones that operated without Imperial backing at least. If they had been any closer to the Imperial systems, he’d have wiped them out on principle.

This far out, though, the regulations of the Imperial Peace were… less rigidly enforced, if at all, even when a Fleet was in the system.

It still went against the grain to leave pirates and mercenaries flying on their own accord, of course, but he could overlook it for a time.

Jesan idly tapped the display as he again reread the message sent by her Majesty.

Of course, He supposed, there is another option…

*****

Chapter Three

NACS Odysseus

“New contact, bearing One Niner Two Mark Fiver Fiver One.”

Miram nodded, looking up at the schedule board.

“Right on time. Issue the challenge as soon as they’re in range just the same, but when they clear it, welcome the Boudicca back for myself and the Commodore.”

“Aye ma’am.”

Miram cleared the checks before nodding to her second, who nodded silently back and stepped in to take her place as she handed command over to him before leaving the bridge and making her way up to the Admiralty overlook.

The Commodore was standing in place as she stepped onto the overlook deck, only glancing briefly in her direction.

“The Bo is on time, I see,” he said as he looked back to the displays arrayed before him.

“Presumed, yes sir. We’re waiting for the challenge response, of course.”

“Of course,” Eric said casually. “It’ll be them, though.”

“You’re usually more paranoid, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Miram laughed softly.

“I’m not paranoid, Commander Heathe,” Eric chided. “I’m just more aware of reality than most.”

“Oh really?” She didn’t, quite, roll her eyes at that. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Eric chuckled, “The universe isn’t always out to get us, Commander. Only most of the time. We’re in a lull right now, I can feel it.”

She resisted the urge, again, to roll her eyes. That was a feeling that the Commodore often brought out in her, but she was getting used to it.

“Well, just in case I have orders out to ensure we, you know, check their credentials before they get too close.” She said dryly.

“Of course, of course,” Eric waved airily, amused to no end by the discussion for reasons she really couldn’t fathom, but again it was a feeling that Miram was getting used to.

So she just sighed and pushed on, “With the Bo back, we’re almost up to our theoretical minimum force levels.”

“Almost,” He nodded agreeably. “Which really doesn’t mean anything, sadly.”

That was too true, unfortunately. While the Priminae technology that had been incorporated into manufacturing had certainly sped up the production of new ships, there were a lot more limits on how many trained people they could turn out over any given time period.

It was a problem that the Confederation was all too familiar with, but that didn’t really make it much easier. The Priminae and the Block didn’t have the same problem, mostly because the former had a strong existing pool of deep space qualified people, while the latter didn’t appear to have quite the same standards on the aforementioned qualifications.

There was a reason why Block star craft were given a little extra room in maneuvering while in Earth orbit.

“It’s been quiet for a while,” she said after a time, “Maybe that’ll last.”

“Maybe,” Eric said, though his tone had shifted almost instantly. “But I doubt it. Based on what we know of the enemy, I think we’ll see them soon enough. What I don’t know yet is how they’re going to react.”

“Oh? I’m surprised, you always seem to know.”

He laughed, “I wish. No, there are too many variables, and the last commander made it clear that there are more layers to the Empire than I was accounting for. I think they’re going to come hard in response to this last defeat, but they’ve shown a capacity for some level of subtlety, so maybe they won’t. If they don’t, though, the only thing holding them back is going to be the Star Shot.”

Miram nodded thoughtfully.

The Star Shot was a modified T-Cannon, or Transition Cannon such as the Odysseus mounted several, that was basically hard lined into a gravity lens that pumped out an insanely powerful beam of concentrated starlight. The gravity lens had been discovered by the ongoing assignment given to the Rogue Class Destroyers to seek out any hints of stellar oddities, primarily with the intent of locating any Drasin stellar constructs.

There was an irony there, she supposed. The Star Shot was not, as best anyone could determine, a weapon. Not originally, at least. The evidence from the teams that were studying the facility fairly consistently showed that the technology there had been designed and built with the intent of creating a massive universal observatory.

The gravity lens could gather insane amounts of light, making it the single greatest observatory ever conceived of by humans, from Earth at least. Since light was energy, however, it also could be used to refocus and collimate the gathered energy and project it outward.

Not a particularly useful thing to do, given the restrictions of the light speed limit as it applied to most things that existed within the universe. Afterall, convincing your enemy to come into range of your superweapon was tricky at the best of times, let alone when said superweapon was currently orbiting a star in a random uninhabited system that had no strategic or tactical value.

Attach a T-Cannon to the output of the stellar observatory, however, and the whole thing quickly became something different indeed.

More firepower than a squadron could mount and power, essentially teleported anywhere it was needed.

It was a little harder to deploy than that, of course, requiring accurate targeting data across lightyears of intervening space, but essentially the Star Shot was the strategic weapon taking the place of nuclear deterrent when it came to Earth’s current enemies, the Empire.

Miram just hoped it was enough to hold the line.

A chime sounded, shaking her from her reverie, and she turned to the console next to her and keyed in an acknowledgement.

“The Bo has responded to the challenge, Sir.”

“Good, have them slip into formation,” Eric ordered. “Then prep the squadron to move out. We’re due to show the flag along the edge of Priminae space.”

“Aye Sir.”

*****

AEV Boudicca

Captain Sandra Hyatt looked over the running systems as she let the duty crew handle the integration of the ship with the squadron. The Bo had just been released from drydock repairs, and by rights should have another month of trials to ensure that nothing had been missed by the dock workers, but with the Empire still a threat there wasn’t much time for that.

There’s never enough time for anything these days, it seems.

It wasn’t long ago that she’d started to feel like life was largely settling back into a predictable give and take of events, returning to normal as it were… assuming that normal was a thing. The war with the Bloc had been big and nasty, but when it was over there was… hope?

Maybe that was the word.

Hyatt was Canadian born, from Vancouver. She’d come up through a military that was largely just the bare skeleton of what a nation needed in times of war. When war came, though, Canada had done what it did in World War One and Two… it had thrown everything it had into the effort.

By the time the Articles of Confederation had been signed with the US and Mexico, the Canadian Navy was the fifth largest on the planet and still growing. During the second world war, they’d gone from six ships at the onset of fighting, to the fourth largest navy on the planet by the end of the war, third by some counts… and then simply started downsizing when it was no longer needed.

The Bloc war had been a repeating of history, with the Navy she served in going from a mere 60 odd vessels to over six thousand by the time fighting had ended.

Peace meant cutbacks though, and Hyatt had taken reserve status willingly after the fighting was done. She’d seen enough in her youth to satisfy any wanderlust, or blood lust, she might have been harboring.

Until the Drasin landed.

And now I command a spaceship. The world… no, the universe, is clearly too fucked up for there not to be a God… and the prick has a nasty sense of humor too.

Of course, things hadn’t been all rosy and gleaming sci-fi once they got out into the communities beyond Earth’s influence. War was a thing that happened, no matter where you were, she supposed. Not that it made any goddamn sense for the Empire to wage war, mind you, not as far as she could tell at least.

Even prior to meeting the Priminae, Earth had long since essentially been a post-scarcity society.

By the end of the twentieth century, and certainly in the early years of the twenty first, it was clear that people were growing more food than was required to feed the entire population of the planet, plus a significant number. Automation had made it such that basic computers, tools, food, and such were all so plentiful and cheap enough to be considered effectively free on the human scale of things…

Yet people starved, and went without regularly.

This was not due to any lack, however, but rather due to flaws in the global logistical infrastructure and foundational designs of the system.

The basics of economy had done miracles getting costs down and production up, but most people forgot that costs and production only defined the lower limit of pricing. The upper limit was defined by whatever the market would bear, which was something that most didn’t really comprehend in detail, but essentially meant that the ideal price was determined by the theoretical maximum profit point, which had nothing at all to do with costs or availability.

Getting the world past that little speed bump had taken some jiggering, and re-jiggering, of the planetary trade infrastructure. It wouldn’t do to arbitrarily slap down high prices, if only because the profit motive was a key driver of evolutionary improvements in said infrastructure among other things.

She couldn’t even really say that Earth had it all figured out. People still starved and went without, but those were fewer and fewer with every year, as infrastructure tweaks were made and improved.

What bothered her was that the Priminae had clearly managed to essentially master such issues, almost literal eons earlier. They had no hunger, no people who went without, not as best anyone from Earth could determine at least.

That wasn’t to say that they had a true utopia, but they were as close as anything she’d ever imagined… at least until the Drasin showed up.

Which was the real crux of the issue. The Drasin she, more or less comprehended… They were monsters, essentially. Instinct driven, holding some hatred of humanity or life or possibly just a straight up xenophobia. Whatever the cause, their actions were understandable even if they were abhorrent.

The Empire, however, was something else entirely.

They were human, with the technology to be more than merely effectively post-scarcity but truly so… there was no reason for them to wage war on anyone. Territory? Resources? Those were free within the universe. You could acquire more than you could ever hope to use, just floating around in space.

With Imperial technology, there was no need for planets to house their people. Creating your own environment was not only possible, but it was preferable by many metrics. Sandra was fully aware of several O’Neill cylinders being put together in the Sol system already, with more being planned in both other systems and in interstellar space as a precaution against the Drasin and other threats.

Pretty hard to locate a settlement, or military base, that’s self supporting and just floating around in the interstellar medium.

With nuclear fusion, planetary mass singularities, and other power generation systems there was no need to be hanging around in a stellar gravity well, after all. It would be like humans living at the bottom of a deep cave because it provided shelter and had water. Sure, that was true and all, but it was cheaper and easier to build a house and use a bucket on a rope to grab water, just cause otherwise you’d have to physically climb out of the cave every time you wanted to go hunting, foraging, or just for a walk in the sun. It made no sense, living on planets like that.

But the Empire was still doing it, and still growing like some ancient… well, Empire.

Sandra didn’t understand it at all, it was like the Priminae and the Empire were somehow… trapped in transition, unable to evolve in their thinking.

And I used to think that mere human psychology was completely insane.

*****

AEV Odysseus

Odysseus looked over the newly arrived vessel with a curious gaze and it settled into formation with them. The big power plant it housed was close enough to his range that he could feel it thrum… no, that wasn’t quite the right word. Odysseus frowned, realizing that he didn’t know a word that would properly describe what he was feeling.

“You alright?”

Odysseus merely nodded slightly, not showing any surprise at the approach of the Commodore.

“Yes, just finding that I don’t have… the words to describe the sensation of the Boudicca’s singularity.”

“Oh?” Eric looked slightly concerned, “Is there a problem?”

“No, nothing like that,” The Entity assured the Commodore, “Merely that no words in any language I know quite conveys the feeling I get from the singularity being within my range.”

“Ah, Terroir.” Eric said calmly.

“What?”

“It’s a French word, do we not have any French speakers on board?” Eric asked, seemingly racking his brain.

“Several, but I don’t know that they made use of that word even in their minds.”

“Probably Quebequois then, rather than French,” Eric said, unconcerned. “Or just not wine makers. You know the word now?”

“Yes,” Odysseus confirmed, having gotten it from Eric’s own active thoughts. “A word to describe the… nearly unmeasurable qualities of a vineyard. Interesting.”

“And not a word you can find in English,” Eric said. “To translate it requires speaking for some time, describing all the different variables it encompasses. Sometimes your experience can’t be summed up into a single word, especially not if you’re trying to convey it to someone with a different set of experiences. Terroir.”

“Terroir. Fascinating… but yes, the sensation I get from the singularity is… not a buzz, not a thrum… it’s steadier than that, but deeper too. Both comforting in a way I can’t communicate either,” Odysseus looked frustrated at that realization. “But also like… there’s a hole in my mind I can’t fill. I wish I could explain it better.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to eventually,” Eric told him. “For now, it’s enough to try, even if you fail.”

“I do not like to fail.”

That caused the Commodore to laugh. “Given your origin, and the people you get your experiences from, I’m not surprised by that. None of us here like to fail, but failures are what drives us on as well.”

“I do not understand.”

“You don’t need learn to accept failure, or enjoy it,” Eric told him. “But don’t fear it either. Failure is the first step to success, and the most important. If you never fail, then you’ve never truly tried.”

“I… think I understand,” Odysseus told him, though the tone in which it was delivered belied the statement a little.

Eric just smiled at that. “No, you don’t, but it’s ok. No one really does, until they do. When you do, then you’ll be ready for the next step.”

“Which is?”

“Trying to get others to understand.”

*****

Conversing with Odysseys was always something that Eric enjoyed, feeling like he came away from each discussion knowing or understanding more than he did going in even, or especially perhaps, when it was, he who was imparting something new to the young entity.

The fact that the entity could sense the presence of the Boudicca was an interesting data point, however, and something that had caused Eric to check the position of the other ship relative to the Odysseus.

They’d been in close formation, primarily because it was easier on the information infrastructure if the ships were within a few kilometers of each other, which had apparently put the two singularities of the ships close enough to resonate slightly. Not a problem for ship functions, but apparently it could be noticed by Odysseus.

Eric wasn’t certain if that would ever matter, from a practical point of view. On one level it meant that Odysseus could sense other ships if they were close enough, but it was all but impossible for another ship to get that close without being noticed a long way off, due to the vagaries of operating in space.

So, it was likely just a curiosity, he supposed, rather than an ability of note.

Still interesting.

Now, however, Eric had other concerns to deal with. The task group was back up to the minimum force requirements for active-duty patrols given the circumstances, which meant that he had some planning to do.

*****

Chapter Four

Archangel One Actual

Steph grunted as he landed on the deck, having slid down a short ladder, turning on the ball of his foot without pause, and walking… quickly, but still walking, to the command center of the little ship. The Archangel gunboats, he’d long since decided that they weren’t fighters exactly, were built around a heavily shielded control zone set within the pivot point of the vessel.

That put the pilot safely within a minimal influence zone in case of maneuvers that exceeded their inertial capacitance.

Translation, he thought dryly as he walked, if the inertia systems go bye-bye, the pilot dies a couple seconds after everyone else.

It was a design that probably made a lot of sense on paper, of course, but in the real world he didn’t see too many scenarios where the extra few gravities of acceleration would make much difference. Still, it wasn’t much to complain about.

Lot like the seatbelts on the Odyssey and Odysseus… all we ever did was tuck them into the seat and forget they were there, cause there are so few situations in which they could be useful without winding up just cutting someone in half.

The Marines and other crew moved respectfully out of his way, most shifting to attention assuming they had the time to notice, move, and do that before he was already past. Normally he’d be smiling and nodding, returning salutes casually, the sorts of things he’d learned from Eric, but this time he was a little pressed for time.

Tyke was waiting as he arrived in the control center.

“Report.”

“Not much to say, Crown,” Tyke told him simply. “Priority traffic from the Imperial cruiser out there, your eyes only.”

“To the command desk.” Steph said brusquely before turning and heading to the small office space offset from the command center itself.

He slipped into the chair and pulled the desk, such as it was, into place in front of him and locked it into place. He hated paperwork, or desk work he supposed since they hadn’t used paper in almost his entire career, but it felt a lot like the Archangel ran on that more than it did fuel sometimes. Now, however, he was more concerned with a different sort of task.

The Imperial Communique was encoded, but it used the common encryption they’d encountered in the ‘Free Stars’ and he found that the Imperial Commander had actually sent the decryption codes along with it.

Rather defeats the point there, doesn’t it? Steph thought dryly, but it did make it easier to access.

He ran the numbers through the system, scanning for anything that might be considered malware, not that he thought that any Imperial computer virus was likely to be able to infect the Archangel’s systems, but procedure was procedure. Only when all that was done did he open the file.

Ten minutes later Steph wasn’t sure if he should buy a lotto ticket when he got home or look for a cave to hide in for the rest of his life.

We can’t possibly be this lucky.

*****

Seamus Gordon was enjoying having something of real value to do, which had been in frustratingly short supply since he’d volunteered to come alone on this mission.

Volunteered hell, He snorted. He’d practically forced his way onboard, in reality, and would do it again despite the boredom and terror it entailed.

Most of the time the work was being done by the Marines and the other crew, dealing with the day to day or, more excitingly, the combat situations, was their specialty. His was Intelligence, something that, thus far had been in light supply… at least for their target.

Getting information about the Free Stars various little polities had been interesting, almost fun by times, but none of them were relevant except as a means to an end… and most of them could burn in the eternal fires of hell for all the sheer shit they dumped on their own people, at least to his mind.

The Empire, though, they were the goal… and Captain Stephens had finally delivered.

It had taken a while, granted, but that had been expected… Now that it was here, though, Seamus was absolutely flooded with things to analyze, and he was loving every moment of it.

Almost every moment.

Frankly, the Empire made no damn sense as best he could tell from his analysis of what they’d learned thus far, and that meant he was still missing key, critical, intelligence variables to make it all fall into place.

On the surface, the Empire looked very much like he’d expect a human culture to look like. They’d formed the sorts of common bonds and pressures that would be very familiar to all manner of historians on Earth.

Too familiar, frankly, and therein lay the problem he was trying to solve. There was no reason that a massive space faring culture should look like… like…

Like the Goddamn Holy Roman Empire.

It just didn’t make any sense.

The priminae were almost… too unimaginative to be human, to his thinking at least. Their entire culture had been stuck in some kind of limbo for a thousand years, or a lot more if you believed their histories. Gordon wasn’t certain that he did, but for the moment that wasn’t really relevant. That type of trapped in time culture was almost anathema to the human condition on Earth.

There were… some examples he had found of historically fixed cultures, but they didn’t tend to last long. Something either broke them from their complacency, or they were overrun and wiped from the face of the Earth.

No matter how much some people wanted it, you could neither go back to an imagined great period in your culture, nor could you freeze your culture in place. Attempting either wasn’t merely foolish, it was suicide.

Progress was not always for the better, but it was both inevitable and irreversible.

Those examining the Priminae histories had pointed their extreme long period of peace as the reasoning for their lack of development, but that had never really fit quite right. War was certainly a way to compress technological and cultural development, but not infallibly nor without exception.

The second world war, the Block war, a few others through history were excellent examples of this sort of technical compression. Once those wars had passed, civilization as it had been known before was essentially wiped out and replaced with a new burgeoning one.

However, it didn’t always happen that way.

If war is the key to cultural and technical development, the Middle East would be the most enlightened and technically advanced place on the planet, He thought dryly.

There were limits, beyond which the compressive pressure of war broke down and everything was ground away to dust.

What they knew about the Empire would seem to indicate that they had been fighting nearly constantly for eons, possibly an exaggeration he supposed but not by as much as Gordon would prefer.

The point, though, was that they should not be a monoculture in the way that they were, practically as stagnant as the Priminae, just in slightly different ways.

He had his suspicions, but he needed proof.

Gordon’s hand slid unconsciously across the desk to the locked drawer that contained a few highly classified pieces of tech he’d brought with him.

One way or another, he would find the proof he was seeking.

A buzz startled him, causing Seamus to draw his hand back sharply.

“Enter.”

The door lock clicked and the door rotated into the wall, revealing the Skipper.

“Sir. May I… help you?” Gordon asked.

“No, I think I’m here to help you.”

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Jesan Mich was looking over the reports from the system, mostly out of curiosity if he were being honest, that and a desire to kill a little time. He’d dispatched a copy of his offer to the mercenaries back to Imperial Command, using the same codes as the Empress’ communique with him. It didn’t ensure that she would read the message, but it would reach the higher levels of command quickly that way.

Now, he just had to wait. Both for the Imperial response, and for the response from the pirates.

Mich was uncertain as to which was likely to land first. Certainly, the pirates had the shortest run, so to speak, but Command had clearly taken an interest in things in this system, which would speed up their response time considerably.

The reports from the local miners was… interesting.

He was fairly certain that the Protectorate had been ripping the Empire off for quite some time, based on the production numbers. Not truly much of a surprise, of course, that was factored into the costs of such deals, to a degree. If they ever found evidence, however, the Empire would of course have to react.

It tended to keep the other sides of such deals more or less honest, usually less, but reasonably so.

He had a bit of a quandary here, though, since he had evidence that the Protectorate had been undercutting the Imperial share of the Neutron Star Material, but of course they were no longer in control of the area. Punishing them would be of little direct value, though the idea of sending a message had merit.

Of course, I could easily spin things such that them losing the star in the first place is the message. That would work just as well and not require me spending more lives and ships.

Decisions, decisions.

*****

Archangel One Actual

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Seamus said, eyes wide as he reread the missive from the Imperial fleet.

“Too soon,” Steph grumbled. “I wanted more time to gather intel around the outskirts before we even tried to get the inside dirt. I don’t like it.”

“What’s to like? This is an invitation into the dragon’s den,” Gordon said, tapping the display plate. “But we can’t ignore the opportunity either.”

“I know,” Steph admitted wearily.

The offer was, essentially, a letter of Marques.

From the Empire.

Steph hadn’t been aware, exactly, that the Empire did such things, but it made sense. Any power like that had to have access to deniable assets, no matter how potent their own military strength was. In fact, it was arguable that the stronger they were, the more such assets would be required.

Strength… tended to arouse jealousies. Get enough of them floating around you, and sooner or later someone would find enough of your enemies to band together and overrun your position. That was a pure and simple fact. It didn’t matter how strong you were, not really. The bigger and stronger you were, the bigger and fatter a crater you’d inevitably leave.

Working for the Empire was always the long-term plan, of course. Get in as close as possible, refuse any work that went too far against Imperial interests, and eventually get their trust… as much as anyone ever trusted mercenaries at least.

He just hadn’t expected it to come this fast, or to include a potential invitation into the Imperial territories as part of the deal.

“If they’re setting a trap, we’ll never escape it,” Steph said with a shake of his head.

“Why set a trap?” Gordon hit a key, lighting up a screen that took up the entire wall to show the Imperial ships just within visual range. “We’re in their sights now. Can you say we’d escape if they opted to open fire?”

Steph grimaced. That was a point he’d been trying to ignore ever since he’d opted for the gambit he had with the local system and its Neutronium mines, but it was a valid one.

“No,” He said, “No, I can’t. If they want us dead, we’re dead.”

He paused, considering that for a moment. “But if they want us alive, they will need a different tact.”

Gordon just snorted, “Like inviting you over for a chat?”

Steph did not look happy at that reminder, but he nodded.

“Point.”

“Decision made?” Gordon asked lightly, hoping that it was.

“Decision was made before I came to see you,” Steph snorted. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“That’s the spirit.”

*****

Not everyone in the Task Group was quite so equanimous about the presence of the Imperial ships of course, particularly with the group standing down weapons and just floating there alongside the big Imp cruisers.

Cardsharp was carefully flicking cards from the deck she had kept on her ever since her first mission with the Archangel Squadron, watching as they arced through the odd microgravity of the command deck, hitting the far bulkhead before falling down into a bucket she’d tossed there to catch them.

“I don’t like it,” she said, grumbling over the squadron AR-Net.

“What’s to like?” Tyke asked, sounding amused at the statement more than anything. “They’re here, we’re here, we have a job to do… don’t blow it.”

“You haven’t seen what these bastards get up to,” she said, though not before her eyes again flickered to the icon that showed that they had good, high level, encryption running… and the icon that showed they were deliberately on a ‘whiskers’ laser comm, either one of which should be enough to be completely secure from eavesdropping, both together was a bit of overkill… not that she intended to invite Murphy to the party by doing anything less with the Imps floating around out there.

“I’ve seen and heard enough,” Tyke responded calmly. “The Empire is a piece of work, no question. More so if the suspicions about them and the Drasin are on the money, but I’ve dealt with pieces of work before. We’ll deal with them again, by the book and in the way the skipper orders. Clear?”

“Clear,” She grumped a little.

Not that he was wrong, of course, just that she didn’t want to be ‘clear’ on this. Since she’d joined the Double A squadron, the first time, Jennifer had seen a lot of shit go down. At first, she had just been happy to get her hands on the stick of an Archangel fighter, but it wore on her more and more as the fighting continued.

How long has it been now?

Jennifer ‘Cardsharp’ Samuels had to think hard about that, the days, weeks, and months in the black seemed to merge and grow fuzzy as any distinction between them faded.

God, has it been over five years? It has.

Technically they’d been at war the entire time, though actual shooting incidents were spread out into a couple dozen or so major ones over that period of time. She had been at the center of almost everyone, and it was hard to believe that she’d survived them all… so far.

Once more unto the breech, dear friends, Jennifer thought dryly.

It was strange, she remembered feeling a lot more enthusiastic about it… once upon a time.

*****

Chapter Five

Imperial World, Kraike

Her Majesty looked at the missive that had been flagged with her priority, more curious than anything. She’d not expected a direct response from Mich; he was normally the sort to handle things himself and report back when it was done. That was something she, and her father, had always liked about the man.

Too many in the Imperial lines of command wanted their hands held, it seemed, afraid to make a single move on their own initiative for fear that it would be a mistake and bring down the wrath of the Empire on them.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely a misplaced fear, she knew. There had been elements within the government who would have cheerfully done exactly that, and likely would again. She preferred not to summarily punish mistakes, as it led to a crippling lack of initiative among the rest of the officer’s corps, but the fear was occasionally useful all the same so, like her father, she left those elements in place so long as they didn’t get too far out of line with their power mongering.

Bold move, she thought as she read over the report, understanding why Mich had opted to respond immediately, taking advantage of the flag she’d put onto the communique thread herself. Another thing she and her father had liked about him, he knew when not to overstep his authority. Offering them an Imperial Signet Contract? Very bold move.

Making the little group of foreign pirates a Signet Group was not something taken lightly, at least not this close to Imperial territory, but she could see where Mich was going with this. The laughably named Free Stars were both a boon to the Imperial coffers, and a never-ending pain to some parts of the Navy.

Of course, Mich didn’t know that was intentional…

“Do not underestimate the man, Daughter.”

She nearly leapt physically across the room, not having noticed her father as he approached behind her.

“Do not do that,” The Empress gasped, glaring at the only man she’d ever trusted as he smiled back, eyes practically twinkling in amusement.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” was his only reply.

“No one,” She ground out. “No. ONE. Else in the empire has been able to do that to me since I graduated, and you know it.”

“Truly?” He asked, mock surprise on his face. “Are you certain that they can’t… or is it that they won’t?”

She glared at him, irritated by the smirking visage he presented to her, more so because she couldn’t refute the statement. Being Empress tended to make those around her less than eager to offend her in any possible way.

Her father smirked at her, knowing he won. She could see that clearly on his face and sighed.

“What was it you were saying?” Emilia asked wearily.

“I suggested that you not underestimate the man,” Her father repeated himself, nodding to the report. “Lord Mich is no fool. He may not be certain of the reasons behind how the Empire treats the Free Stars, but he can link the pattern.”

“Perhaps,” She sighed. “But that does not change the question. Do we allow him to continue with this plan? It has the potential to upset the imbalance of power in the area, turning the region into a more stable and Imperial friendly area. That would largely negate its use as a training area for our forces.”

“This is true,” her father acceded. “However, it was always in the plan to do so eventually.”

“Eventually, yes, but not for many decades at least, if not centuries,” she protested.

Emilia watched as her father nodded soberly, considering that as he turned to look out over the Capital City.

“True, but such plans can, and must, be adjusted from time to time,” he said finally. “Perhaps it is time for a new colonization push?”

Emilia blinked, surprised by the suggestion.

“Is that feasible?” she asked after a moment.

The Empire occasionally had colonial movements, usually to offload troublesome populations out to the frontiers where they could build up the Empire’s resources without living under the harsher rules of the core worlds. Such populations took time to build up, though, and if they weren’t ready for such a move it would fall on more complacent and comfortable people to go… which seemed… counter productive.

“Perhaps, perhaps,” he said. “I believe there are a few minor revolts fomenting?”

“Nothing worthy of the name,” Emilia snorted. “Mostly blowhard fools talking big, but the reports are clear that they’re not likely to be willing to give up their comforts to mount any true rebellion.”

“Pity.”

Emilia nodded in agreement.

Proper rebellious populations were useful, if you knew how to manipulate them. They were composed of people willing to sacrifice for a future goal. Those who talked about it, while feasting on the products of the system they claimed to hate, were rarely so useful, unfortunately.

The Empire had a history of moving the useful members out into the frontiers, where they could enjoy the freedoms they coveted while still remaining of value to the core worlds by providing raw resources and the like. The less useful talkers were an unfortunate waste product of the process, really only of any value in that their talk kept the concept of rebellion alive and, of course, provided the Empire with people to watch that would, inevitably, lead them to the real rebels as they turned up.

Real rebels were always in demand within the Empire. Shipping them off to the frontiers was the best way to properly get colonial efforts moving, and they were also great for flushing out political dissidents within the Imperial core worlds… and those bastards were really dangerous.

Unfortunately, for the moment, they didn’t really have enough of such people under surveillance to mount a proper colonization effort.

“I suppose it’s time to apply pressure then,” She sighed. “We can foment a few revolts and rebel sympathies before opening a new frontier cluster in a decade or so. I doubt that the Free Stars will be able to clean up their mess in that time.”

“Very true,” her father conceded. “Though remember, if that is the plan then it will require backing off the Imperial presence in the Free Stars.”

“No,” Emilia corrected quickly. “Not backing off, not if we’re to follow along with Mich’s suggestion, but rather we shall need to soften our approach. Which still results in a loss of a vital training sector for the fleet.”

She turned her gaze to the map of Imperial systems, as well as contested sectors, “If only we knew more about that enemy super weapon, we could comfortably use the Oather worlds for training.”

“Unlikely,” her father snorted. “Those fools have shown no true capacity for fighting, and their allies have shown far too much. What did the remnants of the Eighth bring back in terms of Intelligence?”

“Precious little,” Emilia said, her expression souring. The loss of her friend hurt more than the rest of the losses combined, both for personal reasons but also because Helena was one of the very best Intelligence Analysts the Empire had ever had. “We have Helena’s notes, but her mind…”

“Indeed, but we will move on as we must.”

Emilia nodded, “Of course. The notes that came back did have some points of interest. The Enemy ships are… unusually coordinated.”

“How so?”

The Empress called up a record of fleet movements, showing a series of lights that appeared and vanished across multiple star systems.

“Here,” She said, pointing, “Notice how the ships are scanned leaving this system, and then another group arrives in this one? Look to the time stamps.”

The former Emperor leaned in, humming to himself, before suddenly jerking back in surprise.

“That… seems oddly regimented.” He spoke.

She gave him a long sidelong glance before snorting in amusement, “Oddly regimented is the least of what it is. Nearly impossible comes to mind, even with instantaneous communication between them, and they do it over and over again. One squadron leaves a star system only for another to appear and enter another system, tens of lightyears or more away, at the exact same time. Why would they do it that way?”

“Why indeed?” her father murmured.

“It makes no sense. Even presuming that they had the technology to coordinate like this, why do it at all?” she complained, throwing up a hand in annoyance. “There is no tactical or strategic reason that makes any sense. They aren’t hiding numbers, they’re not creating any sort of pattern as a trap as far as I can see, all they’ve done is expose that they have this capability.”

“True, true,” The Emperor nodded, looking closer, “But… what capability is it, precisely?”

Emilia looked to her father, momentarily confused, “What do you mean? It has to be some sort of communications or organization discipline… right?”

“Perhaps,” He looked closer to the scan results. “But look here.”

She leaned in closer, looking to what he’d pointed out, “The readings from the enemy ship’s power curve?”

“Indeed. Compare this one here to this one over here,” he told her, gesturing to another scan from a different vessel in an entirely different star system at nearly the same time.

“They look similar,” she admitted.

“They are identical.”

“No,” She shook her head. “No two ships have identical power curves.”

“No, they do not.”

Emilia looked at her father for a moment, then frowned and checked his observations carefully, “This can’t be… can it?”

Now the former emperor remained silent as she began to think through the evidence. The scans they had were easily overlooked - you had to go through several levels to get the precise scan details for the ship’s drives. Generally, an overview was all that an officer required, and even analysts didn’t need precise power curves to do their work.

What her father had said wasn’t entirely true, either of course. Technically, it was possible for ships to have identical power curves, it just wasn’t something that happened as a rule. There were too many thousands of variables involved for even identical classes to precisely match up like that.

“Do you believe they’re the same ships?” she asked, hesitant. “That seems…”

“Absurd,” her father nodded along with her thinking. “I agree, but something very new is at play. As I see it, either they have far tighter controls over manufacturing than we’ve ever imagined possible, or they’ve developed a new drive technology.”

“Space fold?” she suggested, still hesitating.

“Possible, it’s long been theorized,” the former Emperor said. “But without more information, I don’t believe we can say for certain.”

“No, I suppose we cannot.” Emilia’s expression set as she glowered over the scans. “We will need to dispatch more ships, along with scout observers…”

“Easy, daughter,” her father said softly. “I know you want to know, but the fact that they have something new means we should be cautious…”

“But father!” she objected. “If they have some form of near instant drive system, that likely explains their attack on the Empire.”

“Part of it, I agree,” He nodded. “But the drive alone does not explain the weapon itself. There are more new things there than just the one, no matter how impressive that one might be. Do not lose sight of the war for the battle, daughter.”

“Yes, father,” she said, subdued and chastised.

She’d grown up hearing that tone when her father was delivering lessons in how to run the Empire, and it was one that she knew not to ignore. She also knew that he was right. Wars were not won on battles, they were won on understanding the true goals that defined the victory conditions, and those goals could be very different for each side in the conflict.

In rare cases, in fact, it was entirely possible for both sides of a war to ‘win’, because their individual victory conditions didn’t negate each other.

More often, though, the side that lost did so because it got tied up fighting the battles and forgot to fight the war.

Once you did that, you’d already lost, it just became a matter of time.

In this case, the Empire’s victory conditions had started out as the subjugation or elimination of the Oather presence in the Galaxy, as that society was an insult to the Imperial History that it had diverged from. Now, however, those conditions were in flux due to a lack of proper intelligence, and entirely stalled because of the unknown force’s actions and capabilities.

That meant that they needed vital intelligence if they were to even begin to determine what their victory conditions even were any longer.

Intelligence that she’d hoped would be forthcoming from the Eighth Fleet.

Helena, my friend, I am sorry for believing that you’d failed me, Emilia thought as she looked at the scans and time stamps that had been highlighted by her missing friend. You never fail to deliver what I, and the Empire, needs.

“The Eighth accomplished their task,” She said firmly, straightening up. “Bringing back this information to us despite their losses, but we still need more.”

“Agreed. We need prisoners, at least one of the anomalies,” The former Emperor said firmly, “for genetic analysis.”

“A body would do, but yes,” Emilia nodded. “If they are Xeno, we must know.”

That would mean the difference between another minor front for the Empire or marshaling a Crusade to wipe the Xenos and everything they’d touched from the Galaxy.

I wish you were with me still, Helena, Emilia thought as she set her mind to the task that was to come. Your strength will be missed.

She paused, eyes drifting over to the terminal with the report from the Third Fleet before she glanced back sharply to the intelligence provided by the Eighth.

That… might work.

*****

Chapter Six

Confederation Detention Facility Ares, Former Mars Orbit

Helena Birch stamped down on the growing ennui that had begun filling her, the sort of loss of time and meaning that she knew came hand in hand with being a prisoner.

The anomalous species hadn’t treated her, or any of her people so far as she knew, too badly. In fact, they were more on the friendly side than anything. It was a tactic she was aware of, but rarely had the opportunity to see in action, let alone deploy herself.

They play the game differently, she noted once more.

Most, the Empire included, were more interested in fast results, such that they didn’t truly care how they got them. She’d presided over more than a few hard interrogations, using pain and discomfort to push prisoners to the breaking point in order to get intelligence.

As a methodology it had flaws, however. Among other things, if you didn’t have confirmed intelligence that you could use to test the prisoners, there was no way to have any sort of confidence that they’d broken in the way you wanted. Some broke visibly, but kept their mettle under the surface to feed you false intelligence. Others broke instantly, but so completely that they didn’t even try to maintain any sort of truth or lie, but instead just told you whatever it was they believed would make the pain stop.

You couldn’t really trust anything from those sorts of interrogations completely, though with the right sort of tests you could get it close enough for Imperial work.

She knew, because she’d done it often enough, and was noted as being good at it.

These people, however, are not in a rush, Helena determined grimly.

That raised the odds that they’d be able to completely flip people significantly, and gain access to everything those people knew. It also essentially increased the chances of slips from Helena or the other elements of her crews to essentially one hundred percent.

The human mind just couldn’t maintain a defensive posture forever. Eventually, even she would slip and let something useful fall into their hands.

Helena cast a baleful glare about her cell, noting that everything that might possibly be used to end her life had been scoured from it.

Even the walls are soft… and the floor.

She supposed she should feel lucky that they didn’t use Imperial techniques for securing high value prisoners against self harm. The muscle and nerve damage that often resulted would be a pain to heal, not that most prisoners got the chance, of course.

She settled down, marshaling her mental fortitude in an effort to keep from letting anything slip for one more day.

*****

“Tough nut, that one.”

Gracen nodded. “She is. Well trained, knows how to resist interrogation, trained her people well too.”

“Ever going to tell them that we already got everything?” The Lieutenant General asked wryly.

“Not in this lifetime.”

Gracen looked over the monitors that showed varying angles on the Imperial Navarch, she believed was the title. It appeared to roughly match up with an admiral’s position as best she could tell, though there were differences of course.

The woman was tough, and she knew it. Unfortunately for her, between the initial reports from the Odyssey’s entity and the passive scans of her brain activity during questioning, there wasn’t much left that they really needed.

It would be nice to get some proper cultural and language markers, so they better understood the intelligence they’d gotten, but the key elements were largely independent of that limitation.

Brain scans had a come a long way in the last century or so, since late twentieth century experiments had yielded surprisingly effective results at converting dreams into imagery. Now it was possible to pull fairly clear bits of information from someone’s active thoughts.

A poor man’s Entity, she supposed, as it had to be a similar mechanism that allowed those like Gaia and Odysseus to do what they did.

Language was a problem, of course. The machines weren’t fully calibrated for Imperial speak, particularly since the mental links weren’t quite the same in the Imperial prisoners as they were in the Earth natives they’d been calibrated on. Math, however, and basic numbers were easy despite similar differences. Once you had the base understanding coded in, the machines could pull it all out.

That was what was worrying her most now, of course.

“The fleet numbers that the Empire can field are terrifying,” she said.

Lieutenant General Higgins grunted, “That’s the understatement of the century, Admiral.”

Earth could currently field three operating squadrons, two of which were held back to cover Earth’s own space of course, plus the Odysseus group that served as the point of their spear. Each of those squadrons were powerful enough to crack planets on their own, even before factoring in some of the uglier tricks that it was possible to pull with the technology buried in their hulls.

And the Empire had a hundred times that many, at least.

“If this Empire weren’t such a bunch of psychotic assholes, I’d be a lot more worried, mind you,” Higgins said.

“Agreed. They’ve created so many enemies, that they thankfully can’t send that much against us even if they wanted to,” Gracen replied.

Thank God they don’t currently want to, she thought.

The fear of Prometheus, the Star Shot, were holding them back… making them test Earth’s resolve rather than just try to plow on through.

How long that would hold up, honestly, she didn’t know and really didn’t care to make any bets on, but for so long as it did she was intent on wringing every bit of useable value from it. The one thing that Gracen was certain of was that this hesitation on the part of the Empire would not last forever.

We must be prepared.

In many ways it felt like a reflection of the Block War. They had raw materials, technology, everything… aside from the manpower. Training spacers was rough, ironically less so when it came to the military side of things… now they were running a surplus on trainees for shipboard positions.

People to build the ships, though? That was not quite so rosy an outcome.

Without the Priminae’s Forge and our own Kardeshev Network, we’d not even have as much as we do.

Properly trained military personnel could be turned out from multiple places, and mostly didn’t even have to worry overly about the vacuum of space. They trained in simulators not much different than those used for naval and air training, with just a bit of extra focus on dealing with the particular hazards involved in space travel.

Construction in space, however, was a whole new ball of wax and the training had huge numbers of washouts and casualties.

It was easier by far to train people to run a starship than it was to train them to build the damn thing.

The Empire, however, had been doing this for centuries already. By rights, she supposed that they should be so far beyond Earth in every metric as to make the idea of war absurd but given the nature of the Empire Gracen was infinitely grateful that wasn’t the case… even if she was also damn near infinitely curious as to the reasons why it wasn’t.

There is something else here, she could feel it in her bones, but nothing they’d gotten from the prisoners gave even the slightest hint as to what it was.

“Continue with the interrogations, General,” she ordered softly. “I know we probably have everything we’re going to get, but every little bit counts.”

“Aye Admiral, if it’s in there, I’ll scour it out.”

*****

Gracen walked the corridors of the Ares Facility, feeling the faint sense of horror tinged with loss that she always did when she visited the military station.

It was foolish, perhaps, but it felt like the ghosts of Mars were looking over her shoulder every moment she was there. The Drasin attack on Sol had destroyed many things, not the least of which were the lives lost in space and on Earth, but the most spectacular monument to their presence was something that no longer existed.

Mars.

There had never been a lot of people on the so-called red planet, but the military base and scientific outpost had been a growing concern during the early days of exploration in the post-war world. It had also been one of the first targets of the Drasin as they fell through the system towards Earth.

Where the planet had once been there was nothing more than the corpses of dead and dying Drasin, who’d eaten their fill of the planet, multiplied, and eventually just… died of their own excess as what was left tore itself apart from instability and stress.

Now, even that debris was gone.

Farmed and mined out by her own Kardeshev network.

Who’d have thought that the Drasin were worth their weight in platinum?

The corpses of the alien invaders were filled with valuable and sometimes near fictional materials, their bodies apparently processing the ores and material of the planet they ate into advanced metallurgy that needed cyclotrons and particle accelerators to even make atoms of with Earth science.

Without them, the Kardeshev network would not have been nearly so effective as it was, the exotic components harvested from the literal planet of Drasin corpses had provided for a power capacitance that was unmatched by anything short of the starship singularity cores, which would have been instantly spotted by the Imperial fleet when they invaded the system.

The Drasin had, in their own way, saved Earth.

There was an irony there, she supposed, but it wasn’t one she currently cared to delve too deep into.

“Gerald,” she said as she entered an office.

“Yes, Ma’am,” her Assistant responded quickly.

“Have the shuttle prepared for a return to Freedom Station.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.”

There was more work to do.

There was always more work to do.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Eric walked the deck of the Odysseus as the task group was dropping through a ballistic curve that would bring them in relatively close to the system primary before slinging them back out into deep space. With the ships all rigged for silent running it was a bit of a boring swing through an uninhabited star system, but the science labs were still making the most of things, even being limited to passive scans for the duration.

They weren’t expecting any real problems at the moment, but procedures had changed a lot from the earlier days of exploration, and the threat of the Empire was such that just blasting scanner power into the system was now in violation of their SOP and orders. He hoped that eventually they’d get back to exploration. As much as he was a military man and good at what he did, Eric got tired of the fighting.

So very tired.

The Drasin first, and now the Empire. It wasn’t like fighting the Block. Maybe he was getting older, or maybe he just didn’t like being the man standing in the rear and giving orders. Honestly, he didn’t care to take any bets on which it was, assuming it wasn’t both, but a big part of him just wanted the Empire to stay the hell home and leave Earth and the Priminae in peace.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

They’d gotten enough from the early interrogations, most especially thanks to Odysseus, to recognize that. The Empire was very much like China in some ways, he could see that. They considered the Priminae to be theirs’ to punish for whatever reasons they’d dreamt up, much like China saw Taiwan and the South China Sea as their property by traditional right.

In neither case was there any chance of changing that through diplomacy, or anything really. It was a cultural keystone, anchoring who they were as a people. Nothing short of force would make either of them relinquish those claims, and that wasn’t a solution no matter what anyone believed, it was just a means of buying some time. The Empire, like China, would not have their minds changed… at most, they would merely… postpone their ambitions until a better opportunity.

Earth might have been exempted from that by the Empire, maybe, but by getting involved with the Priminae and attracting their attention, humanity on Earth had done something unforgiveable. They’d forced the Empire to back off.

Which meant that they were stuck in this fight, like it or not. Eric doubted that even surrendering would work, not based on some of the logs they’d found on the Commander’s personal systems.

Weston wasn’t certain, but if Xeno meant what he believed it meant… well…

This war hasn’t even started yet.

In his career he’d seen a lot of ugliness, but the worst invariably came when one group considered another to be less than human.

When the group in question was also the group in power, with resources of a nation state?

Eric didn’t like where that was going at all.

*****

Chapter Seven

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Stephan did his best to remain calm as he stepped off the ramp of the shuttle, boots sounding off against the deck of the Imperial ship. He wasn’t really fully believing that he was standing on an Imperial flagship, or any Imperial ship at all for that matter, but his career and life had brought him to stranger things.

Part of him wished that he’d been able to bring Milla along. Her knowledge of the technology at play could be important, but he had no confidence that she’d be able to hide her nerves while on board. It might not be a huge deal, but just in case he didn’t want to trigger an investigation into what she feared, just on the off chance that they didn’t think it was the obvious.

One person that he’d like to have left behind, part of him felt that at least, was the second man off the shuttle.

Seamus Gordon was a bit of an enigma to Steph. The man was clearly a spook… a profession that Steph had little interest, or really respect, for in general. He’d been burned too many times by confident intelligence that turned out to be pure horse shit, and that was the good experiences. The bad were things that he’d actively tried to wipe from his mind over the years.

“Impressive,” Gordon softly spoke from behind him.

That much is true, Steph thought as he looked around.

He wasn’t certain what it was that he’d been expecting, if he were honest, but there was something about the ship that felt… grander, perhaps? That would work, he decided. It felt grander than the Terran and Priminae counterparts.

He didn’t recognize the alloys adorning the walls. They weren’t gold or anything stupid like that, but he couldn’t shake the idea that they served a similar purpose… which is to say, little to no practical value, but a great deal of value when it came to diplomatic outreach under the right circumstances.

It would be of little use with him, even if he fully knew what he was looking at. Steph considered practicality the king on a warship, and his own culture didn’t value ostentatious displays at this point in time… but many others would not share that point of view.

“Captain Teach?”

He shifted his focus to the speaker, an Imperial Officer in what he presumed was a dress uniform.

“That’s correct,” He nodded, gesturing the Gordon, “and this is Mr. Gordon, my squadron’s purser.”

“Pur… ser?”

“He handles money, negotiations, contracts.” Steph said, putting a touch of disdain in his voice as he did. “A necessary fellow to have along for an occupation such as mine.”

“Ah, of course,” The Imperial officer took the bait, barely looking at Gordon and only then with the disdain of a military man for a mercenary, times ten. “Lor… Commander Mich is awaiting your presence.”

Steph nodded, though he noted the hesitation and correction, wondering briefly what it was about. There was no time for that at the moment, however.

“Excellent. I appreciate a man who is direct to matters,” he said. “Let us not keep him waiting any longer than we must.”

“Very good, this way.”

The Imperial Officer led them through the ship, some significant distance. The turns and occasional deck lifts they passed through making it all but impossible to properly locate their destination against the mental model of the cruiser he had in his head, but Steph supposed it didn’t matter all that much.

Taking this thing with Marines would be a nightmare, He thought as he spotted several obvious kill box locations, complete with Imperial guardsmen on duty nearby.

Clearing out a ship with that kind of design, and the crew numbers he could tell the Imperials had on board, wouldn’t just be a nightmare. It would be a bloodbath, on both sides.

Nerve agent might be the only way to take one, not that I’d like to stoop to that if I can avoid it.

It was all academic, of course. Steph had no intention of leading his Marines on any such mission. He was neither suicidal, nor did he hate his Marines quite so much as to inflict that on them. More importantly, though, the fact that they had a design like that meant that the Empire was boarded on occasion.

That was interesting.

Finally, though, they arrived at their destination.

“Commander Mich wishes to speak with Captain Teach.” One of the guards at the door said, eyes shifting over to Gordon. “Alone.”

“Of course,” Steph said smoothly. “Mr. Gordon is merely here in case the Commander desires information I don’t normally concern myself with. He’ll be happy to wait here, won’t you Mr. Gordon?”

“Of course,” Gordon said quietly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he stepped aside and up against one wall.

Steph nodded once to him, then turned and was waved into the room beyond the door.

*****

Jesan Mich had his back to the door when it opened to admit the pirate.

It was a deliberate choice, made to show that the other man was of so little threat that he had no reason to even watch him approach. He’d made similar motions before, it being a subtle bit of posturing that couldn’t be claimed as an overt threat in those cases where such things would be… indelicate.

He had no need to be subtle here, of course. If he chose to have the man, and his crews, executed… well that was well within his rights, and no one of any import would object. Many, in fact, would applaud the move.

That was not to be his choice of actions on this day, however. So, he continued to examine the projection map of the system that was laid out in front of him until after he heard the door shut. Silence reigned in the room for a few seconds, Jesan opting to wait and see if the Pirate would speak first.

It surprised him that he didn’t. Patience was not a hallmark of pirates, not in his experience at least.

“Welcome aboard my flagship,” he said finally.

“I am grateful for your hospitality, Commander.”

Jesan turned then, taking in the other man in person for the first time.

Teach was an unassuming man in many ways. He was neither imposingly built, nor did he have the expression of a hardened mercenary.

This is a man who served in the military of his world, whichever world that might be, Jesan decided in that instant.

He’d considered that likely from the start. In fact, he was leaning toward the idea that this man was an actively serving military man, operating under other worlds’ flags because it suited him and his own government that he do so. Jesan had no evidence of that, of course, or he would call the man out on it… but it was a strong feeling.

Whichever it was, former or current, Teach had the bearing of a man who served.

Not that it was particularly relevant so far as the Empire was concerned. If he accepted the Imperial signet, he’d do what was required of him… no matter what other loyalties he might have. If he didn’t, Jesan would ensure that he wished for the clean execution that had been on the table until now.

Jesan turned away from Teach again, gesturing to alter the projection. This time it brought up imagery of the other’s micro-destroyers.

“You command… interesting ships,” Jesan said. “I confess that I have not seen their like before.”

“They do not have the power of a cruiser,” Teach admitted. “Or even a destroyer, if I’m being far too honest for my own good, but they can out fly anything I’ve yet encountered… which suits me nicely.”

Jesan permitted himself a smile.

“Indeed, I’ve seen an example of their speed and maneuvering capabilities. You escaped me once before, though I confess to not being certain if it were you or others with your class of ship.”

A lie, of course. Jesan knew he was dealing with the same people, but he wondered if he could get the man to slip anything useful about where the ships had been built.

“It was me and mine, no doubt,” Teach responded lightly. “You very nearly got us, if not for a little tricky maneuvering through that gas giant.”

“Tricky maneuvering?” Jesan laughed openly at that. “My people swore it was suicidal.”

“I am sure that your ships could have survived easily,” Teach temporized. “Though any of the others here in the Free Stars, well I dare say that your people would have been proven right. The heap I commandeered mid-battle was almost ready to fall apart before the skip off the planet’s atmosphere. I swear, it’s like they’ve never heard of proper maintenance.”

Interesting. Jesan wasn’t certain, but he was almost so that he had heard a distinct note of disdain in the man’s voice when he mentioned the free stars.

That wasn’t unusual, of course. Jesan had no doubts that he said the words in much the same way, if he were to be honest about it. however, he’d not heard that from anyone in the Free Stars.

Jesan turned back, “Well Captain Teach, shall we discuss what services you might be able to provide the Empire?”

“Of course,” Teach smiled widely, his arms spread. “My crews are at your disposal… assuming, of course, we can reach an agreement.”

“Of course.” Jesan gestured. “Let us be seated and discuss this like civilized beings.”

*****

It was a moment of surreal genuflection as Steph sat down across from the man who’d tried to annihilate Earth… twice, assuming they were right about the origins of the Drasin.

Part of him wanted to knife the bastard clean through the sternum, cleave his heart in two and be finished with him here and now, but it was a small part. The small part of Steph’s soul that carried the vindictive rage of past tragedy.

A bigger part, though still quite small, recognized that the man across from him was just an officer doing his duty. That was no excuse for war crimes, and he was comfortable dropping the Drasin into that territory, but whether this man had anything personal to do with that… well, Steph didn’t know. He had respect for uniforms and the men who honored them, no matter what sort of fools they followed.

The biggest part of him, however, was in control. That part was smiling cheerfully and nodding along as they started talking about potential operations and pay for his crews because this man he was sitting across from was just doing his duty, and that part of him didn’t care about the dutiful soldiers of the Empire. It cared about the shot callers, the people who unleashed the Drasin… who ordered the destruction of Priminae colonies… and who set this man on Earth in the first place.

And to get to them, well… if he had to be friends with the devil himself to get to them, Steph would stock up on fire retardant gel so he could shake the bastard’s hand.

“The Empire does occasionally make use of forces like your own,” The Commander spoke quietly, making Steph lean in slightly just in order to hear him clearly.

It was a cheap powerplay, one that Steph was confident worked well on many people the Commander dealt with, but he’d had to deal with Eric pulling the same crap on him and others.

It’s irritating how often Eric’s lessons come in handy.

“Of course,” The Commander went on. “Normally we don’t bother with such small vessels as your own. You have, however, managed beyond your apparent weight of metal in the past few months.”

“My crews are well trained, and few of our enemies are prepared for vessels with the capabilities we bring to the field.”

“Indeed.”

*****

Jesan found himself studying the man across from him with a slight amount more intensity than he’d intended. For an unassuming sort who commanded a single tiny squadron, the man seemed too at ease in the situation, at least for Jesan’s experience. He’d been seated across from Fleet Commanders who couldn’t mask their fearful obsequious tendencies when faced with the mere presence of an Imperial Commander.

This Teach, however, seemed almost entirely at ease. The few signs of nerves or tension he could see were easily explained by a warrior sitting amid an enemy camp, prepared for violence even knowing it would mean their death. It wasn’t relaxed, not by any means, but more a calm equanimity, as though he’d already settled himself for whatever might come.

That was something Jesan had only seen rarely, and always… nearly always, he amended his thought… in combat veterans who’d already experienced events that would have killed lesser men.

All experience was relative, after all. Once you’d looked death truly in the eyes, it was hard to get as worked up over anything lesser.

Captain Teach was a man who’d done just that.

Not truly a rarity, not in a section of space as chaotic as the Free Stars, of course, but merely looking death in the eye wasn’t enough for what he was seeing. Being placed in such a situation was no guarantee of outcome, and most men would break rather than be toughened by it. The Free Stars had a great many hard, yet brittle, souls in it.

Likely an intentional manipulation, Jesan thought to himself.

He understood the Empire used the Free Stars as a training zone of sorts, that and a punishment of course. Hard, tough, souls were stamped out because they were the type to stand their ground so that their comrades might survive.

Ironically, it meant that the brittle ones tended to live longer because they would break and run.

I don’t think Teach has ever run from a fight in his life, barring orders or a plan to suck his pursuer into a trap at least.

Jesan was used to dealing with Dangerous men and women, it was a… consequence of his duty, one might say.

The vast majority of those he dealt with were dangerous because of the power they wielded, in one way or another. Teach, however, was dangerous simply because he was dangerous. Some people were like that, Jesan knew, but oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, most of those he’d known in his life had been combat arms soldiers. Imperial ship’s Commanders were dangerous because of what they knew and could order. Jesan didn’t even consider himself truly dangerous by default.

Without his ships, his crews, he was just a man who knew too much about things most would rather be ignorant of. Jesan had a feeling that wasn’t true of Teach, the man felt dangerous by default rather than as an extension of his position or command.

The picture this man, Teach, presented him with was a confusing one. A completely new ship class, commanded by a man who was no stranger to violence… even on a personal scale. Again, he’d seen this before, in pirates even… but those men were generally unstable.

Teach was not. If anything, he was too stable.

Nothing about this man adds up, Jesan thought in annoyance as they continued to discuss options going forward. I need the missing piece to make sense of this.

Unfortunately, barring Teach himself offering it up… which the man was clearly not inclined to do, Jesan doubted that missing piece would be forthcoming any time soon.

*****

It was difficult, Steph quickly realized, maintaining his focus on the conversation with the man who could literally provide them with the keys to the kingdom they’d been tasked with gathering as much information on as possible. This was due largely to the fact that he couldn’t help but evaluate the man as a threat practically every second he was in his presence.

Jesan Mich had a bearing that Steph had only seen once, after the Bloc war, during the period when the Archangels were still the feted heroes of the war and not the controversial icons they’d become as the international media started second guessing all the work they’d done during the fighting.

They’d spent time being paraded from party to party, all over the world, and it all included meeting a lot of foreign dignitaries. One in particular was a European Prince, Steph had honestly never learned of which country. The man had spent a lot of time fighting in the brutal back and forth combat over the Middle East as the IndoChi-Block tried to lay authoritative claim to the oil reserves within the region.

Harrison, the Prince, had been a genuine hero of the war himself, but unlike the Archangels he knew how to handle the press and the public like he’d been born to it.

Cause he was.

That was the sort of poise he was seeing in Mich, Steph decided. The look of someone born to what they were doing, with all the confidence that implied to go along with it.

I wonder if the Empire has the same sort of Royal structure?

That was a note to consider for later, however. At the moment, he needed to keep his head in the game.

“Within reason,” He said during a pause in the discussion. “My crews and I would be pleased and honored to accept the Empire’s coin.”

“Within reason?” Jesan spoke, a slight challenge within his tone.

“Well, some missions are obviously over our heads,” Steph smiled self-effacingly, his arms spreading slightly. “For example, in our contracts with the Free Stars, we specifically included the right of refusal, even after the contract was agreed to, if there were any Imperial involvement. We know our limits, Commander.”

Jesan nodded slightly, “A wise man, then.”

“We always honor our contracts, to the letter,” Steph said firmly, leaning in. “That’s why we write them very carefully.”

Jesan gazed on him for a long moment, something in the look telling Steph that he was being measured. Finally, the Commander of the Imperial fleet nodded again. “Very well. I am awaiting final confirmation from higher command, of course, but I believe we might be able to find some work for you to do.”

“Excellent,” Steph said. “Normally, this is when I’d bring in my Purser and we’d get to negotiations, but I suppose that will have to wait until you get your confirmation.”

“Purser?” Jesan… tasted the unfamiliar word.

“Merely our mercantile specialist,” Steph waved off the question casually. “What I know of handling money is mostly tied up in taking it from my enemies or spending it. A specialist is a specialist, whether it be an explosives man or a money man.”

Jesan chuckled softly, “Indeed. I’ve not heard it put exactly like that before, but the sentiment is right I believe. You are, of course, correct concerning the other as well. We’ll discuss the details at a later time… not much later, I suspect, but later nonetheless.”

He stood up, prompting Steph to do the same.

Steph nodded, feeling an odd conflicting urge to simultaneously shake the man’s hand and slit his throat. He did neither, however, since the latter would conflict with his mission and the Empire didn’t shake hands as best they could tell. Instead, they exchanged a paired set of salutes, a crisp Imperial one from Jesan while Steph returned it with an intentionally more sloppy Free Stars copy before he was shown out.

He and Gordon rejoined one another in the corridor as their Imperial escort gestured down the hall. They didn’t speak on the way back to the shuttle, but Steph took in everything he could, and spotted Gordon doing much the same.

It was, in many ways, a wasted trip… coming over to the Imperial Cruiser just to exchange a few words that could have been done more easily and efficiently via comms.

Which was, of course, the point from the Imperial Commander’s point of view. Make them get out, waste their time, fuel, and such in order to hammer home the fact that the Empire was large and in charge. For Steph and Gordon, however, getting to walk the corridors of an active service Imperial cruiser was more than worth the costs and hassle.

Far and above.

*****

Chapter Eight

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Jesan found himself watching through the fleet’s scanner data, eyes on the surprisingly swift and rugged little mercenary vessels as their shuttle returned to the small ship he’d tagged as Teach’s flagship. It was a tiny fraction the mass of his own, but if Jesan were honest with himself, as he generally tried to be, he wouldn’t want to face the two ships off in combat.

He was confident that his cruiser would take the day, of course, but he was equally confident that they’d get carved up more than he’d prefer by a considerable margin in the process.

How bizarre a feeling, He mused with some humor. Normally, when I see a ship that could do that level of damage, I’m looking at another cruiser.

“Commander.”

Jesan looked away from the scanner data, turning to the voice.

“Yes?”

“Communique from the Empire, Sir. Her Majesty’s code.”

Jesan killed the scanner display with a gesture, turning brusquely, “I will take it my office. Thank you.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The thoughts of the pirate ships were banished from his mind after a last considering glance back at the display that was now blank.

I’ll need to determine who built those, He decided. If they have the assets, they might be able to build ships that are a threat to the Empire rather than those tiny things.

That would not do. Not at all.

*****

Archangel One

“Stand down the reactors,” Steph ordered as he stepped onto the deck of the Archangel.

“Aye sir. Reactors standing down across all ships.”

Steph nodded curtly, suppressing the shudder at the idea of even making the damn components it would take to fire torpedoes. The Pulse weapons were a nightmare at the best of times, and he’d really rather not have the damn things armed while he was anywhere within the blast radius, but there was little enough choice in this circumstance.

If the Empire was onto them, taking him and Gordon prisoner would be a nearly ideal opening move before moving in to wipe out the rest of the squadron. If that were to happen, then there wouldn’t be any point in maintaining their cover, so he’d ordered the Archangels to turn the Imperial cruisers into expanding gas on their way out of the system and back home.

Not that I’m entirely sure they could have done it, He thought grimly as he walked.

At close range, a salvo of torpedoes taking them by surprise, he’d give the Archangels a fifty-fifty shot at fulfilling his orders on their way out. Cruisers were big ships, built to take a beating, but anti-matter was a whole different ballgame. Even so, well Steph was just as happy that they didn’t have to enact that particular order.

“We seem to be in precisely the position we were assigned to get into,” Gordon said idly from just behind him as they made their way through the narrow corridors of the Archangel Gunboat.

“So, it seems,” Steph said, nodding to a crewman who pushed himself into a gap as they passed. “If the Empire decides to use us at least.”

“They will,” Gordon said confidently as they reached his office and Steph stepped on past, allowing him to enter first. “Every empire in history has needed mercenaries, from the Romans and the Greeks to our own modern nations. When you have dirty work you need done, or just skills that are easier to pay for than train up on your own, soldiers of fortune are always there to fill in the gaps.”

“Maybe,” Steph said, leaning on the wall as Gordon squeezed around his desk to take a seat. “But the Empire is… strange. They don’t act like they should.”

Gordon nodded soberly, “I’ve noticed that too. I’ve wondered at their lack of interest in taking prisoners, among other things. It’s like they don’t care about Intelligence on their enemies, which is… frankly, insulting.”

Steph chuckled, “Insulting?”

“Incredibly so,” Gordon replied with a slick smile. “It’s like they think they can steamroll anyone without any issue.”

“In fairness, they wouldn’t have been wrong if we hadn’t pulled a few Hail Mary’s out of our asses,” Steph grumbled.

Gordon sighed, “That’s the part I really hate. Arrogant pricks are one thing, but arrogant pricks who are right are even worse.”

Steph snorted but couldn’t help but agree.

At the moment, he knew well that the only thing holding the Empire off was the threat of Prometheus. Unfortunately, Steph was all too aware that Prometheus had significant limitations. Without the Transition technology that provided near instant translocation across stellar distances the Prometheus Starshot was little more than a fancy magnifying glass…

But… Steph thought darkly, even with it, getting targeting data isn’t as easy as all that. In Sol, we had very precise coordinates… it was our home, after all. The shot taken against the Empire took weeks to gather targeting data and run the calculations.

If the Empire knew the limitations of Prometheus, Steph had no doubt that they’d swallow the damage and just overrun the Earth’s defenses. He had little doubt that the Empire would suffer more damage than they’d ever dealt with before, but the Earth wouldn’t survive.

“Skipper.”

Steph paused, looking up involuntarily as Tyke’s voice came over the intercom. He reached over to the wall controls and hit the response switch.

“What is it?”

“Message from the Imp,” Tyke came back. “Teach’s eyes only, Boss.”

“Fuck that, read it,” Steph replied, rolling his eyes.

“You got it,” Tyke said, before whistling. “Looks like you got what you wanted. The Imps have a job for us.”

“I told you,” Gordon grinned.

“Don’t look so happy, you know what kind of jobs Mercs get,” Steph said soberly. “I’ll be right up, Tyke.”

“Looking forward to it, Skipper.”

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Jesan had to admit, the Empress never seemed to fail to surprise him.

He had served long enough at the Empire’s pleasure to have known both the Empress and her late father in turn. He’d been surprised at how competent her Majesty had been when she had assumed the throne following the death of her father. It was almost as though she’d been the one making decisions all along, though he’d served from before she was born and saw no evidence of that.

To think I’d doubted the words of my mentors on this matter, there truly must be something to the Starsbane line that lifts them above lesser bloods.

Without their line, Jesan couldn’t imagine the Empire holding together as it had. Many other empires, great and small, had fallen entirely based on the competence, or lack thereof, of the next in line to the throne. It happened in the Free Stars with depressing regularity, in fact, at least seven times over the years he’d been assigned to the area, off and on.

The Empire, though, had not fallen to similar fates, despite being stewarded by generations of the Starsbane line.

He’d often wondered how much of that was just luck, but with this latest communique from her Majesty, Jesan was confident that luck wasn’t playing much a role, if any at all.

“Adjutant.”

“Yes, Fleet Commander?”

“Signal the pirates. I will speak with Teach once more.”

“Yes Commander. Over comms, or in person?”

That left him pondering the question for a moment. Protocol was to bring the man over, awe him with Imperial might, and cow him that way. It was not a maneuver that Hesan felt likely to work on Captain Teach, though he didn’t see any reason to forgo protocol at this point either.

“Have him come back over,” Jesan said after a moment’s deliberation.

“Yes Commander.”

*****

When Steph’s boots again rang on the deck of the Imperial Cruiser, he suppressed the urge to either growl or laugh at the obvious powerplay that had yanked him back across the void to once more meet with the Imperial Commander. He’d endured similar bullshit during the war, usually when dealing with some of the militaries that had attempted to remain largely unaffiliated despite the growing pressures on them to pick a side.

It had been annoying then, as it was now, but just as necessary.

Gordon, behind him, showed even less signs of annoyance as far as he could tell, but that was to be expected from a spook, Steph supposed as he turned his focus on the Imperial Officer who’d come out to greet them.

“Welcome, Captain. The Commander is awaiting your presence.”

“Of course,” He nodded curtly. “Lead the way.”

The Imperial Officer didn’t respond, merely turning his back on him and starting to walk as Steph took up the pace behind him.

This time, the walk to the Commander’s conference room was of somewhat less interest if he were being honest. They’d made all their observations before, and while Steph was quite certain that they’d missed a lot, little if any of it would be spotted in another quick walk.

Despite that, he kept his eyes out for anything of interest, since he was certain Gordon was doing much the same and would want to compare notes later.

Once they arrived at their destination, the pair were showed in without delay.

This time, Mich was not standing with his back to the door but was instead behind a stylized desk that hadn’t been there the last time Steph had been in the room. He had to check twice, actually, to be certain that it was, in fact, the same room.

“Captain Teach,” Jesan intoned, touching something in front of him with what almost seemed like a ritualistic gesture to Steph, “And… Purser, I understand?”

“Gordon, Fleet Commander,” Seamus said respectfully from behind Steph. “I merely handle the money for the squadron.”

Jesan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t seem inclined to give any more attention to the unimposing man. Instead, he returned his attention fully to Steph.

“Well, Captain Teach,” Jesan said seriously. “It would seem that you and your little group of pirates are in some luck.”

“Oh? I have to say, that sounds very promising,” Steph said, leaning forward slightly. “Might I enquire as to why?”

“Her Majesty has decided that your little squadron might be useful in dealing with an issue the Empire has been having,” Jesan said. “If you’re interested, of course.”

Steph was silent a moment, though inwardly he was all but doing backflips with the excitement he was feeling.

“Details?” He asked, finally.

“Not here.”

Steph’s internal excitement cooled, his mind slowing as he considered that, “Compartmented instructions then?”

The Fleet Commander smiled, “Nothing so mysterious. No, merely that the Empress wishes to impart directions personally.”

That rocked Steph back, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide it, allowing the Fleet Commander the satisfaction of watching his shock.

What could we possibly have done to warrant the direct attention of the Empress?

The fact that their actions might reach her ears, sure that was possible, but there was nothing that the Archangels had done that could possibly justify a personal audience.

Unless they know who we are, or suspect…

Steph pushed that away. At this point in time, it didn’t do him any good to even think that, and it could very easily get him in a great deal of trouble.

Mouth dry, he worked his jaw for a bit before even trying to speak.

“While… honored,” he said slowly. “I cannot imagine what about my little squadron could possibly warrant the direct attention of her Majesty…”

Jesan snorted, “Nor can I, which would imply that either she knows something neither of us do… or something else has her attention and you merely play into it. Considering the Empress’ resources, either option is equally viable.”

“I see,” Steph said, his tone clearly conveying that he did no such thing.

“I would suggest strongly that you not keep her Majesty waiting,” Jesan said seriously. “My fleet has been directed to escort you through Imperial Space at your earliest convenience.”

Steph was silent a moment, though he was well aware of what those words actually meant. He’d dealt with more than enough supercilious officials in the past who liked to use that phrase, or similar wording. It was a polite way of saying drop everything and move your ass.

“I understand,” he said finally. “We’ll be ready to move in…”

He paused, glancing at Gordon questioningly.

Thankfully, despite a lack of having pre-organized responses for such things, Gordon immediately responded.

“Eight hours, minimum, if we push things,” Gordon said, using the Imperial system of marking time. “We’ve replenished most of the stores expended during the previous operations, but we still have people working with the locals to ensure that they’re ready to continue when we leave. Extracting them back to our vessels will take at least that long.”

Steph nodded, turning back to the Commander, “Is that sufficient?”

Jesan nodded, “It will take us nearly that time to properly organize our order of battle in preparation for leaving.”

“Then we’ll take our leave and set things in motion, Commander.” Steph said, standing up. “We do not want to keep her Majesty waiting.”

Jesan stood as well, “No, we most certainly do not.”

*****

Chapter Nine

NACS Odysseus

The entity known to humans as Odysseus did not consider himself to be anything special, despite how the humans thought of him. He’d seen others considered to be like himself and knew that they were powerful beyond anything he could aspire to. He was merely the amalgam of a few hundred humans, not even quite a thousand minds and experiences melded into him.

Gaia and Saul were the results of a merging of a minimum of a hundred and twenty billion souls. The memories of every great mind, military, scientific, leaders… all of them.

He felt like an infant by comparison.

The assured superiority that Saul had, heated and distant, felt… wrong, anathema to the sort of mentality Odysseus had inherited. Comradery, equality… these were not things that he could set aside, they were at the core of his self.

Gaia…

Gaia was different, not so heated, or distant. Her warmth was closer, more…

Motherly… is that the word?

Odysseus didn’t know. He envied the two of them, at least one thing.

He wondered, often, what his namesake would have thought. Was there even such a person, somewhere in the depths of history? He knew that the humans mostly considered Odysseus to be fictional, but there had also been evidence that at least some of the Ballads were based in truth.

Troy had existed, despite being thought an imagined city. Did that mean that there had been a Hector? Helen? Achilles?

Odysseus?

What would they think of the current situation? he wondered.

The galaxy into which he’d been… born? Odysseus wasn’t sure if that was the word, but it was the closest he could manage, he supposed. The Galaxy was a… difficult place. Odysseus hadn’t been present, personally, during the incident with the Drasin but he remembered it, nonetheless. The horror wasn’t something even such as he could ignore, even second hand through shared memories.

War was a conflicting concept for him, in ways it wasn’t for the humans on board the ship that was his namesake, his home. On the one hand, Odysseus was both uniquely prepared for conflict, and simultaneously good at it, yet unlike the crew he drew his skill and experience from… he hadn’t volunteered, he’d been born to the conflict.

For his crew, that would be anathema. For him…

What does it mean for me?

Odysseus didn’t know the answer to that. His memories, the ones he had inherited from his crew, told him that he should be appalled. Angry. Raging, even. But he didn’t feel that way.

The entity looked out over the expanse beyond the ship. The other ships in the squadron were in place as they moved between the stars at a rather pedestrian pace of merely a thousand times that of light. Fast, perhaps, by human speeds but a crawl by the universe’s standards. Seventy years, more really, to cross the Galaxy. Days and weeks between even the closer stars.

The Transition drive buried within his hull could cross the universe in an instant, though at some risk. Unpleasant didn’t describe it, not truly, even for him. Odysseus thought of the moment of transition as a tiny death, a loss of consciousness and an instant in time that he didn’t exist.

How many times have I died already, I wonder?

Odysseus didn’t really need to wonder, of course, he could count every single moment he’d spent in non-existence. Every Transition. He wondered, though, if it were the same for the humans too?

Do they feel the non-existence as I do? Deep down, below their conscious thoughts? I wonder…

*****

Eric once again checked the time, noting that they were on schedule for the next system on their patrol list.

They were moving with the Priminae’s support, which was currently necessitating a slower than normal travel rate. The newer ships from the Colonials had been equipped with T-Drives, of course, and they were moving to refit many of their older fleet, but the work hadn’t been completed thus far.

Not to mention, there aren’t many in the Colonies that have much love for the drive, he thought wryly. They’re not alone in that.

The Transition system was… uncomfortable. There weren’t many who enjoyed it, aside from some adrenaline junkies and snake eaters, neither of which were particularly known for their sanity. Eric himself had learned to live with it but would never consider himself overly fond of that particular means of locomotion.

Having every atom in your body forcibly phase shifted to a fifth state of matter, sublimated for all practical purposes… well, it didn’t hurt exactly, but the relativistic effects were as rough on the psyche as the experience was on the stomach. That said, phase state was essentially in violation of certain universal constants, which resulted in the atoms almost instantly reverted was… of little comfort to those who had to endure it.

He understood the distaste, even fear of the drive, but plodding around the galaxy at barely a thousand times light was… so damned pedestrian.

He laughed softly to himself, unable to really help it when he considered just how far the world had come in just a few short years. He’d ended his first career in the US Marines Corps flying F-35s right to the edge of their functional lifespan, then spend five years trying to make an impossible Chinese technology work.

When the war started, everything just seemed to move so damn fast. The war was a blur, after the… even more so.

Now here he was, travelling between the planets, looking for warships belonging to an interstellar empire that thought genocide was a fun pastime.

“The universe is completely screwed up,” he said mildly before he turned away from the displays that showed their progress, heading for the Admiralty deck.

*****

“Commodore.”

“As you were,” Eric said, walking onto the deck and immediately checking the status of the task group.

The Priminae had gotten around to upgrading their comm tech, thankfully, and the other ships were properly integrated with the Odysseus’ systems so he could review the feeds from each of them.

They were a few hours out of the next system on their patrol pattern, and no one was showing any signs of trouble, so that was about as good as it got in the current day.

“Threat board,” He ordered quietly.

“On screen, Sir.”

The main viewscreen flickered, now showing the squadron’s defense zones. Everything was green, of course. They were still fresh so there hadn’t been any time yet to really scuff up the paint.

Basic checks only took a few moments for that reason, but he took the time to do them thoroughly just the same before gesturing to his staff and having the screen reverted to Mission Ops displays instead.

The Task Group was currently assigned to simple border patrol, a task that was in many ways completely impossible yet also vital beyond belief. Eric honestly didn’t know which trumped which, the importance of the mission, or its impossibility.

Space was uncountably large, in ways that you couldn’t be told, you had to experience. Eric had thought he had a handle on it before taking command of the Odyssey, then immediately had that lack of experience slapped upside his head during their encounters with the Drasin… but even after all that, it wasn’t until the drudgery of border patrol that he started to get… not a real feel for the abyss, because Eric suspected that was just an illusionary feeling in itself, but a new feeling for it perhaps.

Intercepting potential enemy at even stellar distances, let alone interstellar, was more a matter of luck and guesswork than skill.

Under normal circumstances, honestly, Eric would be fine with that. It meant a lot of dull times running around the borders, showing the flag and generally just being around, but his crews had seen a lot of battle and the rest would do them good. Unfortunately, the enemy didn’t seem likely to give them that, which meant that he had to do his best to put his people in harm’s way.

Again.

He made his way over to the Overlook, and looked down at the Command Deck where Miram was doing her part.

*****

“Threat board clear, Ma’am.”

Captain Miram Heathe nodded, “Very good lieutenant. Keep on it.”

“Aye Skipper.”

With the task group approaching one of the border systems, they had to be ready for any sort of trouble that might arise. The odds were good that nothing would, of course, but with the Empire still playing shadow games, probing nearly constantly since their loss in Sol, the odds were definitely non-zero.

“ETA to system Heliopause, fifteen minutes at current rate.”

Heathe nodded, casually reaching for the comm switch.

The speaker crackled to life before she could activate the system, the Commodore’s voice coming clear through.

“I know, Captain. All ships, stand by for deceleration procedures on Captain Heathe’s mark.”

Heathe shook her head slightly, but hit the switch anyway.

“Begin deceleration… now.”

Dropping from FTL wasn’t as simple as merely cutting power to the drives, not when you were using the modified Alcubierre Stardrives that had been pioneered by the Block and long since perfected by the Priminae.

Traveling through space-time at a thousand lights wasn’t something anyone or anything could survive, which was why the stardrive warped spacetime, creating a moving ripple that transited the universe. Anything within the center of the ripple was simply carried around, despite not moving at all within its relative observation frame.

The issue with that was that anything that fell into the trough of the ripple was similarly slung across the universe at a thousand times lightspeed.

Ships had to be careful, stopping occasionally to clear the trough so the accumulated particulates weren’t incidentally compressed into a singularity, and to relieve the energy pressure that was being carried around at the same time.

Stopping suddenly, and without care, would simply result in all those particles and energies being released into an immense relativistic beam that would cut through anything that happened to be along the path of travel… while the backlash would blow out the ships’ drives and, quite possibly, kill everyone on board.

The Priminae drives were carefully engineered to make all that as unlikely as possible, but it still needed to be handled carefully.

The ships in the Task Group all responded as expected and they began securing their warp ripples, drawing the accumulated mass and energy from the transit into the singularities that powered them. It didn’t quite replace the mass used to transit between the stars, but it went a long way to doing so.

Once that was dealt with, the task group dropped from FTL with a flash of Cherenkov blue and settled into a fast approach to the target star’s Heliopause.

Miram called up the long-range scans as soon as they began to compile. Visual was first, blurry, and incomplete though it was, the ships’ systems across the task group began gathering light and sharing data, the computers filling in the details by combining their data to get a clear image as quickly as possible.

Without using active scanners, it was the best they were going to get.

“All clear thus far, Captain.”

“Continue scanning on approach, set course for a long parabola, use the star for a gravity sling on to our next target.” she ordered.

“Aye skipper.”

Pulling a slingshot around the star wouldn’t appreciably add much velocity to their course, mind you, but it would redirect their course with no loss to the singularity cores, which wasn’t an insubstantial savings all things considered. The course would also give them a good vantage of effectively every angle of the star system in passing, allowing them to build up a thorough scan before moving on.

Unless, of course, Miram thought sourly, we find something.

*****

Stellar debris, while normally an evenly spread phenomenon throughout the galactic plane if looked at from far enough back, had a tendency to clump up on local levels in ways that defied prediction. This was primarily due to the interactions of multiple sources of significant gravity, though occasionally other exterior forces would come into play in one way or another.

Functionally this presented some serious threats to the operations of any space craft that was operating in the area, of course, but it also provided certain tactical advantages for those looking to take advantage of such things.

On board the Imperial Cruiser Gleaming Wing, the command deck was quiet as the scanners found an incoming ‘bow shock’ from several FTL vessels approaching the system they’d been assigned to picket.

“Secure all active scanners,” Ship’s Commander Belain Bedfor growled instantly, though he was reasonably certain that none should be active at the time anyway.

“All active transmissions secured, Commander.”

“Passive scans, focus on the estimated location of the approaching ships.”

“Yes Commander. Passive scanners rotating to new focal point now.”

Grabbing energy that was being transmitted out into space was an old technology, older than the Empire itself, and not a tech that many new things had been introduced for in almost that entire time. Minor improvements, certainly, though most of those were on the software and computer level.

Ultimately, gathering light and other energies was limited by physical laws that governed the size of such scanners, though the likes of an Imperial cruiser did have a few ways to cheat those limits just a bit.

By using the gravitational power of their singularity, and mounting the sensor very precisely in front of the singularity, the Wing was able to increase the gain of the gathering methods by several orders of magnitude beyond what the reflectors and lenses could manage alone, bringing with it an appreciable increase in resolution.

Time, however, was not something they could change.

So, the scans took several minutes before they were able to kick back anything at all, and all that turned out to be a nicely detailed image of the starscape they were pointing at.

Commander Belain reminded himself to be patient. The bow shock they were scanning was, by definition, evidence of an FTL vessel, or vessels, and that meant that they’d have to wait for the light reflected from the vessel, and any transmissions it might be making, to arrive.

Perversely that meant that they’d see the ship, or ships, before they could see the approach of the ship, or ships.

After a career and lifetime, practically, within Her Majesty’s Imperial Navy, Belain still had difficulty wrapping his head around seeing something before you could see it coming, but such were the physical limitations of the universe.

“There.”

Belain looked up, nodding as the first ghost images of the inbound ships began to form through the computer’s analysis of their transmission and reflectivity.

Standard cruiser designs, he thought, noting the masses that were also starting to be filled out by the Wing’s gravity scanners.

Belain wasn’t going to let that fool him, however, since he’d long since learned that the enemy they were dealing with didn’t believe in standard designs. They always had something hiding away in their hulls, seemingly intended just to give him a headache.

The ships were slowing and adjusting course minutely, causing him to check their destination and determine that they were likely aiming for a wing through the nearby star system without slowing. Their source wouldn’t take them within detection range of his vessel, especially hiding as he was near a large rogue world that was slowly passing through the region.

“Commander, we’re detecting… I’m not sure what we’re detecting, Sir.”

Belain sighed quietly, but made his way over to the primary scanner station, glancing at the displays to get an idea of what the tech was complaining about.

“Those are the smaller vessels the anomalous species likes to field. They won’t show up on gravity scans, nor will they have much of a power curve as a direct result,” he said, tapping the display. “You’ve not read the briefs.”

The young officer flushed, “I…”

“Save it. Read them. This is not a group to be casual about, not when we might be engaged by them at any point,” Belain growled, shaking his head. “If I catch you out like this again, you’re off my bridge and back to the supporting ranks. Am I clear?”

“Yes Commander!”

Belain ignored the enthusiasm, focusing instead on the task group that had now been identified as it began its wing through the local system.

Well now, just need for you lot to move on so I can report back, I suppose.”

*****

Boudicca

“All scans clear, Ma’am.”

Sandra Hyatt nodded, almost absently.

She was paying attention, but part of her focus was on the data feed itself. As the instrumentation’ specialist had confirmed, everything looked good and quiet, which was what they were hoping for of course, but it worried her when she got what she was hoping for.

“I’m seeing several anomalies in the gravity scans from outside the system, direct scanners to identify,” she said after a moment.

“Aye, Ma’am.”

The FTL scanners they were using were an improvement off the raw versions that the Confederation had originally fielded on the Odyssey back in the day, but were still ultimately the same thing. A ‘ping’ of short lived FTL particles, tachyons, were sent out and the scanners listened for the very few that bounced back.

Less than one in a thousand of the particles would rebound, which was why a single ping from a cruiser was composed of billions of particles at the minimum, and even then, would often need multiple pings to do more than just tell you ‘yup, there’s something there’.

“Ping out.”

The return was, thankfully, essentially instantaneous, however, so it had that much going for it.

“Looks like a cold rogue world, Ma’am. About the size Mars used to be.”

Sandra nodded, humming to herself.

“Very well,” She said, “Moving on. Continue looking for anything out of the ordinary then.”

“Aye aye.”

*****

Gleaming Wing

“The enemy ships are moving on, Commander.”

Belain wasn’t the only one on the command deck who let out a relieved sigh. The Gleaming Wing, while a full cruiser of the Empire, was most certainly not ready to engage the anomalous species in combat. He rather doubted that they’d even be able to take on the Oathers, given the disparity in forces.

They were there to observe, not to fight.

The sudden pulse of high powered FTL particles had very nearly set Belain to ordering his ship ready to fight, but he’d held off and sure enough, the ships had showed no sign of spotting them where they were hiding behind the rogue world.

“Wait until they clear the system,” Belain ordered as he rose from his position. “But prepare to leave for ourselves. Enter a course back to the Empire, best speed.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The anomalous species are moving again, this is what the Empire has been waiting for.

*****

Chapter Ten

Archangel One

The neutron star system was now in their wake as Steph endured the bizarre surreal reality that had become his life.

Pacing along with the Imperial task group as they headed into Imperial space was not something that had been on his bucket list, if he were being honest with himself, not even considering the assignment he’d drawn when taking up the reigns of the new Archangel Squadron.

The things I do for my world.

A short time into the trip he’d gotten tired of staring at the Imperial cruisers, plotting out the ideal locations to pop off a pulse torpedo, and to remove that temptation he made his way down from the command deck to the small galley to get some food.

It almost made him regret leaving their captured destroyer behind, but if things got hot, he didn’t want to be forced to keep his ship’s performance limited by the frankly mediocre capabilities of the prize ship, nor did he want to worry about dealing with crews that weren’t in the know about their true mission.

No, leaving them in place ostensibly to provide support for the Imperial vessel detached to supervise the Neutron Star mining was a better move. The mission going forward was for Archangel’s only.

“Stephan, I didn’t expect you down here,” Milla caught him in mid thought, startling him out of his reverie.

“Just got tired of watching the stars crawl,” he said, only half lying.

Running at even the high-speed transit pace of the Imperials was a grind. Taking days and weeks to cross between stars, even in relatively tight clusters like the Free Stars, was something he was having to deal with, but it wasn’t something he enjoyed.

Not that anyone enjoys the Transition drive, I suppose.

Still, he’d trade a few minutes of sick time for the days of transit time any time, given the choice.

“I see,” Milla nodded, extending a hand with a steaming cup in it. “Would you like coffee? I just got it--”

“I can get one, but thank you,” Steph said with a grin.

“Nonsense,” she handed it to him. “It is easier for me to make another than for you to squeeze past.

He couldn’t quite help himself.

“Wouldn’t be an unpleasant squeeze,” he remarked, winking.

The red flush she got actually startled him out of old habits, and Steph had to shake his head and hold up a hand, “I apologize. That was… uncalled for and unprofessional of me. I must be getting tired, but it’s no excuse.”

“Non, I mean, no… it’s ok,” Milla said, getting her own cup and squeezing into a seat at the small galley table.

The Archangel gunboats were designed to run with minimal crews, of course, primarily one pilot and one engineer for combat. But since long term missions were part of the design, they’d included facilities for Marines and specialists as well. Space was at a premium in the hulls, so everything was designed to flat pack and function well enough but not particularly well as it were.

Steph also levered himself into a seat at the small table, sitting across from her, “No, it’s not. I’m the Commander here and you’re in my chain of command, that was not ok. Anyway, new topic. How are the engines holding up?”

“Well,” she said, still red as she sipped at her coffee. “We are, as you say, combat ready.”

“Good. I hope we don’t need it, but there’s a real possibility that we’ll be leaving Imperial space a lot faster than we’re entering it,” Steph said with a forced chuckle, trying to forget his little slip.

“We will be ready,” she told him firmly.

“Good.”

The slightly awkward silence hung there, stretching out as they sipped their drinks amid the omnipresent thrum of equipment around them. Finally, it was Milla who broke it.

“What will we do when we arrive in Imperial Space?”

Steph just shrugged, “Honestly that depends more on them than anything I could decide. The Empress has a mission for us, which is both ominous and honestly exciting. It gets us closer to the heart of the enemy than we’d really believed possible. Our optimistic goal for this mission was to operate around the outskirts of Imperial control, learning what we could indirectly.”

Milla nodded slowly, “I see…”

“Getting into Imperial Space, with an escort no less, is…” Steph took a breath, considering it, “It’s high risk, high reward. If we pull it off, it’s more than we’d hoped for, if we don’t… well…”

“Yes, if we don’t it will not end well, I imagine.”

“Best case? We run like hell for the system Heliopause and transition the hell out… probably showing more of our cards in the moment than we really want to. Worst case? Well, we don’t.” Steph said that grimly, because he knew that he wouldn’t allow his ships to be taken by the Imperials. There were just too many secrets on board that could not be allowed to fall into their hands.

“Of course.”

This time the silence didn’t feel so awkward or forced, but it still stretched out between the pair as they sipped at their drinks.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet Flagship

“With respects, Fleet Commander, but do you have any idea what Her Majesty is thinking?”

Jehan looked up to where his sub-commander was standing, his expression neutral, “Pertaining to what?”

“Bringing those barbarians to the homeworld.”

He just shrugged, having expected that really, “It is not my place, nor yours, to speculate on Her Majesty’s motivations.”

The officer flushed, “Of course that’s true, but still, I can’t help but wonder…”

Jesan sighed. This was always the issue when the office of the Empress got involved, people liked to second guess her as though they knew better.

“Her Majesty has access to information we do not,” he said firmly. “Her decisions are not made on a tactical level. Trust in the Empire, sub-commander.”

“Of course, My L-… er, I mean Fleet Commander. I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize, just be wary of who you ask such questions of,” Jesan warned. “Not everyone is likely to treat it as I do.”

The man paled and all but fled, leaving Jesan considering the question himself.

What was she thinking? he wondered. Certainly, the Empire had employed such people in the past, but almost always through extended cut-outs, and never directly through Her Majesty’s office, let alone her word alone.

Something was certainly up, something he simply didn’t know enough to form an opinion on, he supposed. He hoped to be brought into the loop, but for the moment all he could do was deliver the mercenaries as ordered and trust that the information Her Majesty had was better than what he was working with.

Personally, he found himself almost liking Captain Teach, in a vague sort of way. The man was personable, yet still managed to command respect, and he knew that was a hard line to walk. It likely helped that he only commanded a small squadron with a laughably small number of people in it, of course, but even so…

There was something about them that didn’t speak of mercenaries or pirates, and that bothered him deeply.

It hadn’t concerned him much at all in the beginning, simply because they were held at a distance. However, he had an uneasy feeling about bringing what was clearly a well trained and motivated combat squadron directly into the space around the Imperial Capitol… let alone potentially putting one or more of them within reach of Her Majesty.

Guards or not, he suspected strongly that if Teach truly wanted someone dead, they would be before anyone else could do much of anything to stop it.

Still, whatever their little squadron was doing in the Free Stars didn’t have anything directly to do with Empire, so that risk was minimal he was confident.

*****

Imperial World Kraike

“Your Majesty, Fleet Commander Jehan has sent word on ahead of his arrival, the… mercenaries have accepted your gracious offer.”

“Of course, they have,” The Empress scoffed lightly. “They’re mercenaries.”

Normally the Empire had limited, if any, official dealings with mercenaries, she knew, but such things were certainly not unknown. Normally, of course, they would be brokered in by some petty official looking to save face due to some foolishness of his own doing.

This… was not that.

She wanted them for something else entirely, but really wasn’t certain if the effort would pay any true value back or not. It was, however, worth the elements of risk that were inherent in such dealings, she felt.

“Leave me,” she told the official, turning her back on him before he was gone.

The Empress made her way out to the balcony that overlooked her city, the capitol of the Empire and the finest city in any of the known worlds. With a population that eclipsed that of many large planets, the city below her was the jewel that made the centerpiece of the Imperial crown what it was.

“These Xeno,” she said softly. “They tax me, father. Just their existence taxes me.”

“I know,” the voice of her father, an omnipresent fixture in her life, responded instantly. “It has been… a long time since the Xeno-Wars.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

Even as long lived as Imperials were known to be, those were from long before her time, or even her father’s. They had records of the wars, of course, but that was all they were. Records. Experience was a different matter, and just the possibility that the new enemy they faced were Xeno… it left her with an itch in her brain.

“If they are Xeno, they will be destroyed,” her father’s voice promised.

“And if they are not?”

“Then they were be subjugated to the Empire, as all people must eventually be.”

The Empress again nodded, taking solace in the words.

“Of course,” she said, “Of course, you are right, father. I just…”

“You are tired. I know, daughter,” he told her gently. “Many times I was tired too. Take the time you need, refresh, and come back ready to ensure the purity of the Empire, and the Galaxy beyond.”

“For the Empire.”

“Indeed,” he said, smiling. “For the Empire.”

*****

Archangel One

Gordon carefully inventoried his equipment; gear he’d brought with him when he requested this assignment. The process was a calming one that helped order his mind even as he ordered the tools out on the desk in front of him.

He’d hoped for something very much like what was happening when he’d requested the berth with the Archangels, but had honestly been prepared to settle for much less and be happy with it. An invitation into the heart of the Empire was the holy grail of the Intelligence Community on Earth right now, and his little gamble had paid off.

In spades.

Now, though, he needed to prepare if he wanted to avoid completely blowing the opportunity…

And that meant letting the Commander in on a few things.

Gordon brushed his hand over the box that centered the collection of specialist tools, considered it for a time before abruptly grasping it and plucking it from the desk in a sharp motion. He was walking around the desk in the cramped space even before his thoughts caught up with him.

“Computer, Signal Commander Michaels.”

It only took seconds for the Commander to respond.

“Michaels. What is it?”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m with Lt. Commander Chans at the moment.”

Gordon nodded, “That’s perfect, she should hear this too.”

There was a pause before the Commander’s puzzled voice came back.

“We’re in the galley. Do we need privacy?”

He needed to think about that. Strictly speaking, yes, the materials he had were exceedingly classified, but the fact was that at the moment he didn’t think it mattered.

“No, but we might like a bit more room.”

“Right. Conference room in five.”

“I’ll see you there.”

*****

When Milla and Steph stepped into the small conference room, really more of a briefing room that doubled as a chow room for the Marines most of the time, Gordon was already there at the head of the table with a metal box in front of him.

“Gordon,” Steph said with a curt nod as he walked around and slipped into a seat.

“Commander, Miss Chans,” Seamus Gordon returned the gesture.

“So, what’s this about?” Steph asked as Milla took a seat.

“Our mission, a… classified part of it. Less classified now, really, since the Odysseus entity showed up, but even so.” Gordon said.

“It’s about Gaia and Central?”

“More about the chance that there’s an Imperial counterpart,” Gordon said, a hand on the box in front of him. “Confed Intel has calculated that the odds are good there is, and if Central is any indicator, it’s likely more directly involved than Gaia is in our own affairs.”

Steph snorted softly, “We’d know that how? That’s a lady who likes to be… subtle… based on what Eric has to say about her.”

“Agreed, but we think if she were inclined to be directly involved, Earth would have a more unified population,” Gordon said. “Similar to the Empire and the Colonies. That’s the bet, anyway.”

Steph considered that for a moment, before shrugging, “I suppose that makes sense. Unless she likes watching us fight each other.”

“Another possibility,” Seamus conceded. “But for the moment we don’t think she does.”

Milla, silent to this point, leaned forward, “If there is such an… entity… what could we expect to do about it? The ones we’ve encountered are very nearly indestructible, I doubt even your Prometheus facility could harm it.”

“True, which is why we have these,” Gordon said as he popped open the box in front of him, revealing several small gleaming devices pinned down to a black velvet lining.

Steph looked them over, frowning, “What are they?”

“Neural disruptors… or, maybe more accurately, Neural jammers.” Gordon said. “Wear this and it projects a scrambling field around your head that should keep you from being readable by any entity, assuming they function the way we believe they function.”

Steph reached forward, plucking one of the devices out of the box to examine it.

“How do we… believe they function?” Milla asked, confused as it wasn’t a subject that she’d focused much of her time on.

“Primarily, we think that they’re a result of the minute disturbances of human brain waves on the electromagnetic field of the planet,” Gordon explained. “Completely undetectable changes on any macro level, but low enough into the quantum field and you can see the… results of a human brain, at least for a few moments after it passes an area.”

“The Earth as a massive hard drive, huh? Nice theory,” Steph said. “How does that explain Odysseus?”

“His… origin? That we can’t explain,” Gordon admitted. “Something different happened with the Odysseus, but when and what it was… there’s nothing in the records to really tell us. However, the singularity on a cruiser does create what is, essentially, its own magnetosphere. So, his existence falls into the theory reasonably well, leaving aside the issues of origin.”

“I feel like this is a massive oversimplification,” Milla said hesitantly, also reaching out to pick up one of the devices. “It seems likely that more than merely magnetic fields are involved.”

“Almost certainly,” Gordon nodded. “The research indicates some sort of information… storage? Maybe that’s the wrong word, but something about the gravity field itself almost certainly plays a role. Humans, however, are fairly insignificant on that level, and we’re confident that the ‘mind reading’ of the entities is tied to the electrical activity in the brain.”

“So, this will scramble the local magnetic field, right?” Steph asked, eyeing the device he was turning over in his hand. “And not my actual brain?”

“Presuming you have enough there to scramble?” Milla asked quietly, her lips twitching as she cast a sidelong glance at him.

Steph shot her a betrayed look that was utterly ruined by the snicker he utterly failed to hold back, while Gordon merely rolled his eyes.

“It’s just an EM white noise generator, no effect on brain chemistry,” Gordon said wearily, shaking his head.

“How do you know it works?” Steph asked, this time more seriously. He couldn’t quite imagine Gaia or Central volunteering to help test such a thing.

“We tested it on the Odysseus,” Gordon said. “The entity was apparently quite put out and confused, he could see us in the minds of others but not directly.”

“Hmmm…” Steph hummed thoughtfully, flipping the little device over in his hand. “Not exactly stealthy, I guess.”

“No, but there have to be natural situations that mask people like this,” Gordon said. “And that ignores the results of technical experimentation, even indirectly. It’s not perfect, I know, but it’s what we have. No one goes onto an Imperial planet without one of these active. That comes from the Admiralty.”

Steph considered that, his eyes level with Gordon’s as he gaged the other man’s thoughts through his expression.

If this thing works, I can see the value but…

“Intel really thinks that the Empire has an active asset like that?” He asked, somewhat skeptical of the idea.

As far as he could see, thus far, the entities tended to be… not hands off exactly, but not really actively involved either. Based on Eric’ observations, which Steph admitted were too limited to really draw conclusions, Central almost acted like a library resource, while Gaia barely got involved at all barring extreme circumstances.

“Unknown,” Gordon admitted. “But just the possibility is enough to have every Intel specialist in the know hyperventilating. There are more than a few back home who wear these things full time now, just because.”

Steph snorted, “Paranoid.”

“Professional paranoids,” Gordon corrected.

Steph sighed, but nodded as he conceded the point.

“Fair enough. Alright, no one gets in range of an Imperial planet’s magnetosphere without one of these,” Steph said, considering it. “Should be easy enough. I doubt that anyone in the Empire is going to be crazy enough to allow ships not under their direct control get that close anyway.”

Gordon snorted, but agreed with that sentiment.

There was no such thing as an unarmed space craft. Anything that could realistically travel in space was quite capable of utterly decimating the population of a planet. Kinetic energy didn’t much care if it was delivered via a warhead or a hull, after all. Only a truly insane, or utterly complacent, species would let unknown space craft get that close to their planets.

Or someone desperate, He corrected, considering the Priminae.

“Good,” Gordon said. “So then we need to talk game plan.”

*****

Chapter Eleven

Imperial World Kraike

Emilia found that she was where she had spent far too much time in the recent past, staring out over the city so far below, lost in her thoughts and concerns for the future.

A lifetime in the court of the Empire was not something that was kind to anyone, even the daughter of the emperor or the empress herself. She’d known that, in her mind, for as long as she could remember… but it had only been after her father passed that Emilia recognized what it meant.

She had few friends in her life, never had. Another hazard of the position and the court in general, she had been told. So those few she did have were to be treasured.

Now, the Xeno… and she knew they had to be Xeno, she could feel it in her very core, had taken one of her treasures from her… but that would be their downfall. Even in defeat, her friend had not let her down, so she refused to let Helena’s last gift to her be wasted in vanity.

Bringing these… pirates into the game, that was a new one on her thought, an idea that both excited and gnawed at her due to the boldness of it all. Not that she was overly concerned with them, precisely, but more the reactions to them that would come in the future.

Still, that was a problem for another time.

Turning, she made her way across the room, intent burning through her mind as she went with the urge she felt inside.

An auxiliary to the Empire’s command and control system was located under the Imperial apartments, and so she was able to reach a place to make her commands reality in only a few moments.

“Your Highness!”

The duty officer was well used to her presence, of course, but still instantly snapped to attention and bowed as she moved past without paying him any mind. He automatically opened the security door in time for her to not have to slow her pace at all, allowing Emily to stride into the command-and-control room easily.

“Your Highness, welcome.”

“Thank you, Commander,” she nodded to the Officer of the Floor, eyes moving to the current strategic display that showed the various issues of concern to the Imperial Navy in as close to realtime as they could reasonably manage.

Not every icon on the screen was even close to real time, of course, and the colors on the display flowed to show how long it had been since the last update. Within Imperial space, most icons were some variations on blue, of course, showing that the intelligence was effectively in real time.

The farther out, the more the colors shifted to the red.

“Show me the Oather sector,” she demanded.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Emily watched as the screen changed, giving it a moment to properly adjust to the new boundaries and then taking some time to study it to her satisfaction.

The Oathers had run far when they broke from Imperial authority, but not far enough. The orange icons were not the farthest tracking that the Empire had done, nor were they the most difficult, despite having taken centuries to find them after they’d vanished originally.

It took considerable time to find anything in the cosmos. So large was the space out there to hide in, but nothing stayed hidden from the Empire forever. Not when her family did not wish it.

“How old is this intelligence?” she asked, pointing to a light orange icon, knowing the generalities at a glance but requiring specifics that were somewhat harder to read from a mere color.

“Last report was just delivered, Your Majesty,” The Floor Commander responded. “The sighting was made within the last few hours.”

She nodded absently, not bothering to respond as she called up the details on the sighting specifically.

There is it, she noted.

It was that same ship that had shown on their previous scans, the ones Helena had isolated in her notes. It was anomalous, in more ways than merely representing the anomalous species.

Xeno.

The word whispered at the back of her mind even when she didn’t want it to, but Emilia embraced it and her anger with those who’d taken her friend from her.

The movements of the ship didn’t quite fit the pattern they’d spotted last time, however, and that irritated her slightly.

Is it a sign that I was wrong? Or am I reading too much into this?

The Empire, and she, needed more data. That much was clear without thinking on it even slightly harder. She was operating in a dearth of intelligence, and that was an unacceptable situation.

“I want more scout groups moved into the sector,” she ordered.

“Of course, Your Majesty, how many?”

“A division.”

That caused the floor Commander to blink, his face as shocked as he ever was, “Your Majesty, are you certain? That would normally be the prelude to…

“A full invasion, yes, I am fully aware of that. Send the orders.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” The man bowed, backing away.

She’d already cast him from her thoughts long before he made it back to his communications platform.

Setting that many scouts out had issues, of course, particularly given the current state of affairs with the blasted Xeno species. Their damnable superweapon was like a dagger at the Empire’s throat, but not even that would be enough to stay her hand in this matter.

She would see them burn, as they’d burned down Imperial facilities and ships, on her own name she so swore.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet Flagship

Jesan Mich looked over the command deck as the third fleet, and their escorted guests entered the space surrounding the Imperial home world. He did not like having such an armed presence this close to Her Majesty and the Capitol, despite the fact that realistically they would be destroyed in an instant if they attempted anything untoward.

There was something… deeply wrong about it to his mind, but in the end his orders stood above all else.

“Challenge from Imperial outpost Fourteen ninety-five, sir.”

“Respond and clear it,” he ordered calmly.

“Yes, Fleet Commander.”

A single outpost could annihilate his entire fleet, and they were well within the range of the challenge point, of course, by the time it was sent. That said, he had little worry given that the Empress had personally countersigned the order bringing him back.

If Her Majesty wanted his life, or his fleet, then so be it. He trusted that she would not do so without cause.

Such was not the fate of he or his crews this day, however, as they were cleared through the checkpoint and moved deeper in system.

*****

Archangel One

“Oh man, check out that,” Tyke said in a low voice as Steph nudged the Archangel gunboat into a freefall that would bring them deeper into the Imperial system. “I’ve never seen that heavy a scan. Do we have any details from this system?”

“No,” Gordon said in an equally low tone, eyes glittering as she stared at the instrumentation data they had feeding back, even using only the passive scanners and minimal navigational instruments. “The Rogues didn’t dare get within a hundred AU of this system; the security was too tight.”

“Now we know why,” Steph said. “It’s their home.”

The Archangels were tucked in close to the Imperial cruisers, not really daring to give themselves any space for fear that it would be considered a hostile action as they got closer to the Imperial homeworld, but all Steph could think of at the moment was that they had to get back out with the data they were gathering. Just the targeting information alone…

“Plot everything,” he ordered insistently. “Planetary motions, moon rotations, everything. I want to be able to rebuild a model of this system from scratch if we must. Prometheus needs data like this.”

“Aye sir,” Milla’s voice was comforting as she responded. “Everything is being recorded. However, it will not be easy to build an independent model. There are too many cruisers, and larger, moving about. The mass of their drives will certainly impact the results.”

“Do what you can.”

“Of course.”

Steph had already extrapolated their course, and the world at the end of the long drop was showing interesting details on the long-range scanners.

“We haven’t seen numbers like this on Earth in a while,” He said, nodding to the hyperspectral readings from the atmosphere, “Well, we hadn’t until the invasion at least. There’s a lot of pollutants in the air.”

“Heavy industry, at a guess,” Gordon said, “More than I’d expect for the homeworld, though. Usually, those dictator types like to keep their own backyards clean.”

Steph nodded slowly, “Different culture maybe, we can’t assume that they expect the same things we do from their environment.”

“True,” Gordon allowed. “But I’m seeing chemicals in the atmosphere here that would be hard on the health of the inhabitants.”

“Better medical than we have on average?” Tyke offered. “Maybe they can undo the damage.”

“Or they do not care about it,” Milla said, tone a little sour. “They certainly did not when they came to our worlds.”

“Either is possible, we won’t discount anything until we have enough data,” Steph said. “For now, as I said before, just log everything.”

That was something none of them could disagree with at least.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet Flagship

The descent had taken several hours, primarily to ensure that the ships belonging to Mister Teach hadn’t done anything nefarious with their drives that could be used as a weapon.

Or, rather, anything obviously nefarious, Jesan thought with grim amusement. Even the smaller vessels involved would make rather impressive kinetic warheads if they managed to make it through the planetary defenses, of course, though there was little enough chance of that.

He knew well that even imperial vessels were tracked constantly once they got this close to any significant Imperial world. Altering flight plans without warning was tantamount to inviting a defensive barrage that not even an Imperial cruiser could survive.

There was no such thing as an unarmed starship.

For the moment, though, nothing was showing out of the ordinary, and he was quite pleased with that. He might even be able to relax… perhaps… once every one of them was again out of the star system and safely on their way.

“Orders from Imperial Commander and Control, Fleet Commander,” his communications officer relayed. “We have directions for an orbital trajectory.”

“Relay to our… guests, and ensure that they’re aware that they are to follow it precisely,” Jesan ordered. “Then bring us in.”

“Yes, Fleet Commander.”

*****

Archangel One

The signal from the Imperial group had provided very specific telemetry to follow, and orders to follow it precisely, which was to be expected in Steph’s mind.

“Ok, Archangels, you have your directions. Do not deviate,” he ordered over the laser comms that linked the ships.

Cardsharp’s snort came back almost instantly, “No shit, boss man. Have you seen the guns pointed at us?”

He had, in fact. The planetary defense was not shy about making themselves noticed as best he could tell, but of course that wasn’t really what was on his mind.

“I’m more concerned with the ones I don’t see, Jen,” He replied. “Keep scanning, but for God’s sake, don’t tempt them.”

“Roger that.”

Steph looked over to Gordon, “Somehow I get the feeling that this is your play now.”

Seamus shrugged, “Perhaps. If we’re lucky it is, anyway…”

“And if we’re not lucky?” Tyke asked, looking at the spy askance.

“Then it was a pleasure working with you all.”

“Oh, that’s just great.”

Steph waved Tyke down, “We know the risks, this isn’t exactly how I saw the mission playing out, but the potential for reward is too damn high. Not that we could back out now even if we wanted too.”

Tyke grumbled, but nodded, “Too true there. What now?”

“We wait.” Steph said simply. “We don’t do anything without an engraved invitation.”

Tyke glanced at the results of the passive scans they had, and the dozens of high-powered laser cannons they could see aiming at them. He didn’t even want to think about the ones they couldn’t.

“Yeah,” He breathed out. “I can agree with that.”

*****

Imperial Command and Control

“So, these are the pirates, are they?” Emilia said, eyes on the detailed scans of the ships that had been escorted into orbit by the Third. “Smaller than expected, even given the reports.”

“Yes, your majesty. It is odd to see such small vessels, considering the stories of what they managed… even granting that their deeds were against such as the Free Stars.”

The Over Commander who had arrived when reports of the arrival reached him seemed less than impressed, if she were to judge by his tone and posture, but for Emilia it was something of the opposite.

Something so small, managed so much disruption to our operations… even without targeting Imperial forces in the slightest. Impressive.

“I will meet with their commander,” she announced.

“I believe he calls himself a Captain, Your Majesty,” The Over Commander offered mildly. “But are you certain? Nothing about them rises to the stature the Empire would normally consider for a meeting with yourself.”

“Captain?”

“Teach, I believe.”

“Captain Teach…” Emilia nodded slowly. “Yes, I am sure. It is rather rare to see anything new, so I am intrigued.”

“Very well, I will see to the arrangements.”

The Empress waved off the Over commander, happy with his statement and more than willing to let him be about his business while she looked on at the imagery being copied over to her from the system defense scanners.

Very interesting.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet Flagship

Jesan stared at the communique with some sense of shock, or perhaps that was a rising horror? Honestly, he didn’t know and wasn’t sure it mattered.

When he’d been dispatched to bring the pirates back to the Empire to meet with Her Majesty, he hadn’t believed that she meant that literally. Generally, such meetings were done with a high-ranking member of Her Majesty’s government, not with the woman herself.

If he’d known, he might have seriously considered some subtle bit of sabotage to make such a meeting impossible. It wasn’t that he wanted to subvert Her Majesty’s orders, but putting the Empress of All Things into the same room with a group of pirates?

If that wasn’t akin to blasphemy, Jesan wasn’t sure what would qualify as such.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” He grumbled, primarily to himself, but he was overheard of course.

“What is it, Commander?” His Sub-Commander looked over, concerned.

“Nothing to worry you,” Jesan assured him. “Merely some twists in the upcoming meeting with Teach and his little group.”

The disdain on the Sub-Commander’s face showed clearly his thoughts on that subject.

“I understand the value of occasionally working with such people,” He told Jesan, “But bringing them into the very seat of power of the Empire? Why?”

That was a question Jesan had wondered himself, but in the end, he suspected that the answer was rather simple.

“Likely a whim of the Empress, Sub-Commander, and little else.”

“Ah.”

The other man deflated a bit there, after all what more could be said about it? One couldn’t exactly complain about such things, after all. Orders aside, disrespecting the Empress was hardly a way to ensuring either a glorious career, or a happy life for that matter.

“Exactly,” Jesan said, rising. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to prepare.”

“Of course, Fleet Commander.”

*****

Archangel One

The communication signals were flying fast and thick between the planet and the fleet, Steph noted as he looked over the signal density, which had more than tripled in the last few minutes. That was all to be expected, of course; even just the arrival of a task group in orbit would necessitate all manner of data transfers, all things considered.

That knowledge did little to nothing to soften the feeling of paranoia he was dealing with, being this close to the seat of Imperial power without even a cruiser’s power to back him up.

Not that a cruiser, even the Odysseus, would make much of a dent in the power disparity, of course. His little squadron had more than enough power to lay waste to a rather sizeable portion of the planet below, if he wanted to cut loose.

Using anti-matter against a largely civilian population, however, was a no go as far as he was concerned.

Barring extreme circumstances, that wasn’t a route that Steph was willing to entertain even in theory, and at the moment he wasn’t looking at such extremes.

Thank God.

The Empire, for now, was wary of a straight up conflict with the Confederation, Earth, and their Allies among the Priminae. Prometheus and the Starshot had seen to that, so while he had little known that more shooting was coming down the road, for now he was just as happy to play the long game and gather intel.

“Communication from the Imperial Fleet.”

Steph turned his head sharply as Milla spoke up, “Send it to me.”

“Yes sir.”

Steph checked the screen as the signal chimed the arrival of the communication, and he opened it quickly. The first pass through was just a fast skim of the contents, which was normally enough to start making plans, but about halfway through reading it he stopped, stared, and then very deliberately made his way back to the beginning and began to read it again.

This is… unexpected.

*****

Chapter Twelve

Imperial World, Kraike

I so very rarely leave the tower, it seems.

Emilia Starsbane sat in the private observation room that overlooked the central arrival location for orbital returns. Strictly speaking she didn’t need to be here, of course, but she wanted to be and that was enough.

The shuttle from the Third Fleet was due in short order, with the representatives for the… pirates? Mercenaries? Whichever title they liked, she supposed, they were almost on world, and she would shortly get her first glimpse of them.

The distant roar of the shuttle decelerating reached her long before the vehicle was visible, of course. Even with reasonably quiet drives, the sheer mass slamming into the atmosphere at speeds normally reserved for orbital maneuvering, well that tended to carry.

The hulking Imperial shuttle arrived in short order, however, circling the field once before slowing to a crawl and lowering itself into place over the assigned pad. As it settled, she felt a familiar presence at her shoulder.

“I didn’t expect you to come out as well, Father,” Emilia said, mildly surprised but only that.

Her father had taken to moving around far more than he had before, since she’d taken over the duties of Empress.

“Curiosity, daughter,” he said simply. “Much the same as yourself.”

“Mmmm…” she acknowledged the point, eyes glittering sharply as she saw the first people appear from under the belly of the shuttle.

She recognized Jesan instantly, even at a distance, and wondered how he had been.

“He looks well,” her father said from behind her. “Undaunted by his change in elevation, I might say.”

Emilia nodded, “Jesan was never one to let the unexpected pitfalls of life hold him down for long.”

Her attention was shifted a moment later, however, when three other figures appeared from behind him.

They didn’t appear particularly notable, she decided. An odd uniform, or perhaps the remnants of uniforms, she supposed. There were signs on each that they’d started with something similar to the Empire’s own naval dress, but what she was seeing had clearly been altered personally by the individuals.

“Interesting…”

Emilia glanced back to her father, frowning slightly, “What is it?”

There was a vague look in his eyes, something she’d never seen before, but he merely shook his head.

“Nothing, daughter, just… interesting.”

That told her very little, but there wasn’t much she could say either, so Emilia turned her gaze back to the small delegation that had come down with Jesan at her own bidding. She wasn’t yet certain that they would be able to accomplish the task she had for them, but ultimately it mattered little.

Decoys and distractions were not required to be successful in their assignment, they just had to be successful decoys and distractions.

“I’ve seen enough,” she said, getting to her feet and walking to the back of the observation room where an attendant was waiting. “Get me to the tower ahead of them.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

*****

Jesan looked around as he took in the air of the homeworld.

Little had changed, of course. He hadn’t been gone that long by any measure, but it always felt like he’d been gone for interminable periods when he eventually returned.

This arrival was a little different than he’d become used to, of course. The entourage of retainers that normally greeted him was nowhere to be seen, only a single military driver and moderate convoy that were here more for his guests than himself.

A Fleet Commander, no matter how high the rank might be, didn’t warrant the same sorts of attentions that a Lord of the Imperial Nobility did.

No matter.

He gestured to the waiting convoy, “This way, Captain Teach.”

The tall and slim man nodded, “Of course.”

His companions, one was the purser that Jesan had met before while the other was a woman of very slight stature, followed suit and the group quickly made their way to the convoy and were enclosed in the protective armor and shielding of the military vehicles in short order.

He didn’t believe that there were any likely threats to the lives of his companions, but Jesan had made more than a few enemies over his service time, and he suspected that if any of them wanted him dead… now would be the time to accomplish it.

Killing a Lord? Dangerous. A mere Fleet Commander, however? That was something that could be more easily accomplished.

“To the Tower,” he ordered as they settled in.

“Of course, Fleet Commander.”

The vehicles lifted quietly on their magnetic drives, pivoting smoothly in the air, and began smoothly accelerating away toward the distant tower that stood as a thread against the backdrop of the sky beyond.

*****

Steph was quiet as he looked out the windows of the transport, his mind running in more directions at once than he’d known existed.

The city they were flying over wasn’t one of the megaliths that defined the Priminae worlds. In fact, it looked more like Los Angeles than anything else he could easily recall.

Los Angeles right out of Blade Runner, He thought sourly.

It was dirty, smoke stained, and smog filled. He wasn’t certain what chemicals made up the pollution he was seeing, but Steph had little doubt that they weren’t particularly nice to the lungs of anyone breathing it.

The skyline, however, that was… Gorgeous.

The buildings were larger than Earth constructed, by an order of magnitude or more. They might not be the megaliths of the Priminae, something he rather suspected had more to do with the desires of the Imperials to tear them down and rebuild on occasion than any lack of capacity, but they were beyond impressive in their own right.

That tower has to be tens of kilometers high; I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Is that the Imperial Tower?” Gordon asked from beside him, nodding in the direction of the construct that had caught Steph’s gaze.

“Indeed,” Jesan nodded in confirmation. “The seat of Imperial government, and her Royal Majesty’s personal residence.”

That’s a personal residence? That’s insane, Steph blinked.

“Beyond impressive,” Gordon said smoothly. “I confess, I have never seen its equal.”

“And you never will,” Jesan said firmly. “The foundations for it were set down over a thousand years ago, local cycle of course.”

“Of course,” Gordon said, not really knowing what that meant in exact numbers but figuring that they could work it out later if needs be.

“While some work has, of course, been done over the passing time, the tower remains in most regards as it was originally built by the First Emperor, Wiljed Starsbane.”

Steph glanced at the imperial Commander, Starsbane? If that isn’t a loaded name. Wonder what the odds are that he picked the name himself either just before ascending to the throne, or after?

“Utterly beautiful,” Gordon smiled beatifically.

“And yourself, Captain Teach?”

Steph started very slightly, shifting his attention fully to Jesan in the moment.

“Pardon, myself what?” He asked. “I was rather taken in by the view, if I’m being honest.”

Jesan smiled, a hint of smug superiority behind the expression, though Steph could hardly blame the man for that. “I wanted to know your impressions, but I suppose I have my answer.”

Steph allowed himself a smile, “Beyond impressive. The skyline is… breathtaking.”

The city itself looks like shit, he thought, but for obvious reasons didn’t say so aloud. The disparity did strike him, though, making him wonder about the cause. On Earth, the disparity he was seeing now had been a transitory thing, lasting a few decades in most places. Pollution might be the cost of progress, but eventually even those who benefitted from it just wanted clear air and to be able to see the horizon.

The poorest might not get much attention, but when even the wealthy are choking on pollution… well, it tended to get cleaned up.

Something about what he was seeing here, though, made him wonder.

*****

Milla had seen so much since she’d come into contact with the humans from Earth, horrors and wonders the likes of which she’d not even encountered in childhood stories… but this was beyond all of that somehow. Beyond the Drasin, beyond the wars, beyond even all the death and suffering.

Here, though, she was having an issue dealing with the import and impact of what she was seeing.

The Empire were the source of the monsters that plagued her world, slaughtered millions… more than millions… and destroyed entire planets. Even after the Drasin had been beaten back, though, they refused to stop coming.

Trying to determine the possible source of such hatred had brought her and her people deeper into the records stored by Central than anyone had ever gone as far as they knew, until they managed to unearth at least part of the story.

She doubted it was the whole story, that was in the nature of things in general, but especially when they were something that happened so long ago, but it was part of it.

The Empire and the People were once the same.

She knew that much was true; it matched with what Central could tell them and with what the Imperial prisoners had to say. Why that knowledge had been largely lost to the People was not something she understood, but it was certain that it had not been lost to the Empire.

Whatever had happened, and she knew that there was enough evidence through Central to say that the parting had not been… amicable, as her hosts might say, it was clear that the Empire held a long grudge. To what end, she didn’t know. None of that made any sense to her if she were honest about it, who held a grudge that surpassed the life scale of some civilizations?

However, the Empire did.

And so here she was, flying over the streets of a world that wanted her dead, her people wiped from the cosmos… and all she could do was listen to idle chatter about how impressive the architecture was.

It is insanity.

She had nothing she could add to that insanity, either, so she did her best to remain calm and match Steph’s attitude while keeping quiet about her thoughts, as she supposed, did the others in their own way.

*****

The Imperial tower was looming over them in short order as they sped in toward the center of the sprawling metropolis. The military convoy was flying low but staying over the level of the rooftops for the most part, which meant that low was something of a relative term.

Steph guessed they were about fifteen hundred meters up, and moving damn fast based on the pace of the landmarks apparent motion below them.

There were quite a few other flyers in the sky too, he noted, far more than you’d ever see over any city on Earth, and the Priminae generally didn’t even have that many in the skies despite their generally more reliable technology. He wondered if the fliers were all manually controlled or if the Empire had established a grid-based flight control system for them, but quickly filed away the idle thought as the last few kilometers to the tower seemed to vanish far too quickly.

“We’ll be arriving on the hundred and fiftieth floor hangar,” Jesan informed their group quietly, “Her Majesty’s personal hangar, so you should be honored.”

“Of course,” Gordon offered with an inclined tilt of his head.

“We are more than honored,” Steph said simply, leaning over just slightly to get a better view of the approaching building and facilities they’d be landing at.

It’s bigger than it looked in the distance, but then I suppose it would have to be.

The tower appeared almost… thread-like from range, its height far eclipsing its base dimensions, but it was clear on approach that those were not to be scoffed at either. The Hangar they were approaching could easily house a Confederation shuttle, and those were considerably larger than what the Priminae and the Empire used for similar jobs.

Those shuttles were massive airframes, and not something he’d even like to consider landing on your average building, let alone in one.

This, however, was not an average building.

The material science that the Empire has access to must be more advanced than even the Priminae, Steph was nearly certain. Building anything this size, without it collapsing under its own weight, defied everything he knew about construction.

Granted, Steph wouldn’t consider himself an expert on such matters, but he’d heard enough bitching from specialists over the last few years in particular to know some of the basics.

Based on what he did know, he was utterly stunned that the building hadn’t collapsed into its own foundations already.

The shadow of the hangar passed over them as the military convoy eased into the large open area, and he caught a glimpse of a giant blast door closing behind them as the vehicle turned easily in the air and slowly eased down to a landing.

“Welcome to the Imperial Tower, Mr. Teach,” Jesan smiled at him.

Steph forced a smile back, hoping that it wasn’t too wooden and unconvincing.

“It is an honor and a pleasure to be here, Fleet Commander.”

*****

Chapter 13

NACS Odysseus, Flag Bridge

Eric Weston liked the calm.

The patrol had been one of the easiest they’d had in… well, since before the Block War if he were being quite honest with himself, but certainly in recent months. There had been no sign of the Imperial forces as they moved along the perimeter of the space claimed by the Priminae, which was a welcome relief for the moment.

Maybe they’ve decided it’s not worth the effort, he thought, an ironic twist of his lip following the thought almost instantly.

It wasn’t a likely thing, he knew. The Imperials he’d dealt with, both in combat and face to face as prisoners, were most assuredly not the sort who gave up.

If Earth and the Priminae wanted this enemy to back off, Eric was certain that they would have to back them off.

Unfortunately, that was just the way some people were.

A warning sound from below the flag bridge caught his attention, derailing his thoughts as Eric moved forward so he could lean down and get a better view.

*****

Command Bridge

Miram turned in the direction of the sound almost on instinct, recognizing it as a proximity warning from the passive sensor array.

“Report,” she ordered crisply.

“Anomaly in the system, Captain.”

“Details?”

“Still isolating the data, Ma’am.”

Miram nodded, wishing she could rush that along, but the speed of light was a… mostly… unbreakable limitation… if she didn’t want to go announcing their presence to everyone for a few lightyears around, at least.

“Understood. Keep me apprized.”

She stepped back, half turning to glance over her shoulder, confirming what she’d already known, that the Commodore was watching intently. Miram suspected that he felt much as she did. This patrol had been too quiet, like the enemy was getting out of their way as they approached.

That almost didn’t make sense, honestly. The sheer volume of space they had to cover made it almost infinitely unlikely that they’d run into anyone in the first place, but things did tend to concentrate down to singular points as they reached key star systems…

Yet… there had been no signs in those systems either.

Miram didn’t like it, and she was fairly certain that the Commodore shared her feelings there.

Someone is playing a game, and we’re stuck waiting for them to make their move.

*****

Flag Deck

Eric looked over the data from the rest of the squadron. Each ship was now focusing on the anomaly they’d found and trying to pin it down, but for the moment all they had was what looked like a gravity source out of place with expected mapping passes. Not something that had to be enemy action, there were many things that could displace even planets from their predicted locations, but it was also one of the first indications of the presence of ships like the Odysseus.

A tap of his fingers sent out a command over the local Whiskernet, and in moments he saw the squadron following orders and spreading out slightly, keeping their scanners from being interfered with by the gravity fields generated by each ship’s cores.

Should we go active? Eric tapped a finger on the display in front of him, debating the question.

An active ping from the squadron would almost certainly settle the question very nearly instantly, but came with the obvious price of alerting any potential foes to their position.

A real concern, he knew, but not necessarily a valid one depending on the circumstance.

If it were a trap, then the enemy almost certainly were watching for their approach. The bow wake from a single cruiser could be detected several light minutes ahead of the ship itself while at speed, a squadron like the one they were travelling in? Considerably larger.

He'd have preferred to transition in and wait in place, gathering data quietly as light and other radiance from the system came to them, but there were obvious issues with that when they were caught traveling with ships that didn’t have that capability.

Ultimately, however, Eric moved his finger away from the display.

No. Not yet at least, let’s get in a little bit… closer.

*****

The Entity known to his… crew? Shipmates? He didn’t know which really fit, but they knew him as Odysseus, and he knew them as who they were. He examined the new feelings from the squadron and the system ahead, forming his illusionary form on the exterior hull of the big ship and shifting the focus of his consciousness into it.

The feel of interstellar space couldn’t be expressed in words. There was nothing even close in any human language he was aware of to get the concepts across, but there was a sensation of incredible… freedom that he felt every time he did this, moving outside the confines of the areas dedicated to keeping humans alive and just… existing there.

Odysseus was plugged into the gravitational scanners of the Odysseus at an almost instinctive level, and had access to the reports from each of the other vessels as well, giving him as complete a picture of spacetime as was possible to have… but he had more than that too.

Gravity, electromagnetic spectrum, the strong and weak forces of the universe… he experienced them all, on a personal level. It wasn’t something he’d been able to explain to his people; they didn’t have the words, the concepts, or the minds that could properly comprehend what he was experiencing…

Honestly, Odysseus didn’t have any of those things either… but what he did have was the experience. It was something he could compare to the times he’d done this before, and this time… there was something… new.

It isn’t a ship, not alone at least, Odysseus considered.

The anomaly was too large. Something had disrupted the system in far too significant a manner for it to have been caused by a single cruiser, even overloading its singularity in dangerous ways.

Lightspeed data was still flowing in, delayed only minutely as the information flooded through the dispersed array of the task group, was processed, and then redirected to the Odysseus for final compilation where he could read it.

His own… eyes, for lack of a better term, were far better than any humans because Odysseus intercepted and interpreted the light that entered into his sphere of control as a single action. Right from the start, that made his ‘eyeball’ the size of the gravitational influence of the ship itself, which was significant… though nothing compared to that of Gaia or Saul of course.

Similar to the other entities, the core that was in a very real way his body manipulated spacetime, creating a funnel that drew light and other things in. The well of his core, which expanded the effective size of his collecting method significantly.

For all that, however, the ranges involved at the moment were just too large and it was taking far too long to determine what exactly was awaiting them.

Odysseus considered briefly, then vanished from the hull of the ship as he returned inside.

*****

Eric didn’t look up from his work as he felt something change in the room, “Have something for me?”

“Uncertain,” Odysseus admitted.

Eric snorted, “That’s about the same as the experts across the task group. What do you have?”

The young entity, currently projecting his older armor and style, albeit with more tasteful makeup than he’d started with back when they met, stepped forward until he was just inside Eric’s peripheral vision.

“There is a significant mass anomaly in the system,” He said unnecessarily. “One that does not fit the profile for any ship, or combination of ships, available in the records. It seems… new.”

Eric grunted, “Cross reference known Drasin signatures and constructions.”

“No match,” Odysseus responded without a thought. “Though the Drasin could, in theory, cause such a shift, records indicate that they prefer to swarm with a relatively small number and self replicate within the system. Such an action would not significantly affect the mass distribution of a star system, as most of it would simply be resulting from the shifting of materials from one to another.”

Eric grimaced, but nodded. The entity wasn’t wrong, he knew. Mars had been eaten by those goddamned things, leaving the former red planet to be replaced by the dying drones when they finally finished destroying the habitat they existed in, but that didn’t affect gravity within the solar system in any measurable way due to conservation of mass.

“What if they swarmed with larger numbers?” he posited, mostly hypothetically since he didn’t get that feeling from the data.

“Possible, however every indicator is that if they were in this region in such numbers, we would already have received reports of attacks and calls for help.”

Cold, but not wrong, Eric thought with a tip of his head.

“Well, something is out there,” he said. “This is a known and mapped system, which makes it unlikely it’s a construct like that of Prometheus. Imperial origin is still the most likely.”

Odysseus frowned slightly, cocking his head, “How so?”

“If it were us, or the Priminae, we’d have been told. A derelict like Prometheus should have been spotted ages ago,” Eric said. “And the Drasin aren’t subtle enough. Barring a complete unknown, I’m betting on the Empire.”

“I see…” Odysseus considered that before nodding, “Agreed. The trail of thought seems sound… barring unknown factors.”

“Can’t make decisions on things you don’t know about,” Eric said, tapping a command to open up a comm to his group commanders. “All ships, signal for General Quarters.”

As the order went out, Odysseus blinked slightly, “But what if an unknown factor is at play? We may be acting in the wrong manner.”

“We may,” Eric conceded. “But that doesn’t matter. You don’t always get the luxury of perfect knowledge, much of the time you have to make your decision based on the best intelligence you have now. That’s just how things work.”

“I… am uncertain that I like that.”

“NO one likes it,” Eric snorted. “But it’s true. There’s always a race going on, between information gathering and deciding, though, and if you’re not certain… it’s usually better to take action than sit around waiting.”

“…” Odysseus made an odd sound, one that Eric didn’t really have any reference to equate with, “Understood.”

The entity faded away, leaving Eric to his task.

Glad you do, that’s something even I’m still struggling with, son.

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“Inbound bow shock detected, Ship’s Commander. The enemy is closing on the system.”

“Understood. Ensure that all preparations are in place,” Ship’s Commander Brockaw Meld ordered as he shifted his focus from the administration tasks to the tactical situation.

“Yes, Commander.”

It’s about time. They’re running behind their normal schedule, Meld thought as he walked across the deck to observe the data feed. And they’re running far more noisily than normal as well. Something’s changed. I don’t like it.

The data was different from the normal pattern the Forward Division had been observing, almost… conventional, in fact, which would suit him neatly under most circumstances, but he certainly didn’t want to have new things thrown at him out of the blue like this right in the middle of his operation…

Not even if the new things are actually old ones.

The Empire’s current standing orders were harassment and attrition, bleed the enemy slowly, without doing so much as to goad them into using whatever superweapons they’d unleashed when pressed hard in the past.

The current assumption of Imperial Intelligence was that the weapon in question was either extremely difficult to bring to the field, or massively resource intensive. Otherwise, they’d have fielded it more by this point than just the two instances on record.

Meld was uncertain if that was the reason, but that was the point of pushing them a little at a time, to see when they would take off the gloves once more.

A risky strategy, of course, if they should be able to target a more valuable world or infrastructure, the Empire might lose a great deal… but doing nothing? Unthinkable.

The strategy was costing the Empire as well, of course, more so than the enemy it seemed. Whatever else this anomalous species was capable of, it was clear that they were superb warriors.

Meld would prefer not to find himself in the position of the Eighth, so he’d opted for a… different method of pursuing the enemy strategy.

Come on in, take the bait.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Eric didn’t like it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to offer up much in the way of consolation. The compiled long-range data wasn’t showing them anything of utility, just that there was a distinct disruption in the system ahead, one that didn’t match any of their records and couldn’t be accounted for any known platforms.

He had experts throwing everything they had at the problem, hoping something would stick, but at the moment all he had was readings that made no sense.

The visual feed, still over three days old by this point due to their range from the anomaly, didn’t show a damn thing out of place.

Eric couldn’t explain it, and had no intention of taking his ships into that mess until he either could, or had a reason to.

“Squadron wide,” he ordered.

“Aye Commodore, you’re on.”

“All ships reduce speed, adjust course to sling around the system,” he ordered. “Standby for active scanning.”

The various vessels in the squadron responded in the affirmative moments later, and Eric very shortly felt the very slight shift in the gravity of the ship as they adjusted course.

It’s a trap, it almost has to be, but to what end?

“Get me the captain of the lead Begarim,” he ordered. “Captain… Boltain, I believe?”

“Yes sir, a moment,” his communications officer said. “Captain Boltain on the screen.”

“Commodore,” The Priminae Captain nodded in greeting, “How may I be of service?”

“This system, is it of any particular value I should be aware of?” Eric asked.

“I am not certain I follow your question.”

“The anomaly we’re scanning, there’s a fair chance that it’s a trap, but traps have bait, Captain. I’m trying to work out what the lure is here.”

The Priminae Captain leaned back, considering that, “You believe it to be a trap? Are you certain?”

“Certain? No, if I were certain then I’d know what to do,” Eric admitted. “I’m guessing, for the most part.”

“I see. This system is a resource system, Captain. A moment, if you please,” Boltain said.

Eric nodded agreeably. There was no reason to be pushing for anything at the moment since they had plenty of time before they’d even reach the system’s heliopause at the current rate, and he wasn’t planning on diving in anyway, not without good reason.

“Standby for a feed from my database,” Boltain said a moment later.

Eric just nodded to his communications officer and in a moment, they had detailed scans from within the system on their screens.

“The inner system is dominated by, I believe your people refer to it as a ‘Hot Jupiter’,” Boltain said., “A protostar, in essence, that was not quite massive enough to ignite, but has fallen very close to the system primary.”

“Yes, I see,” Eric said.

It was actually a very common stellar phenomenon, one that had actually been the very first extra-solar planetary discovery when astronomers began looking for planets in other systems in earnest. Being one of the easiest extra-solar planets to find, hot jupiters made up the bulk of early discoveries.

“Notice the gaseous plume between the protostar and the system primary,” Boltain said, highlighting the imagery in question.

“I see it.”

“This is an exotic plasma, one that can only exist in certain extreme environments,” Boltain said. “And one that can be mined and stabilized into power conducting materials. More importantly, it’s vital to converting the radiation from singularities into useable energies. It is the foundation of our laser systems, as well as almost all power transfers on ships.”

Eric nodded, “And there’s the bait.”

*****

Chapter 14

Imperial World Kraike

Imperial hospitality… wasn’t bad, as far as such things went.

Steph had endured worse, by any measure, though he’d also seen far better.

Doubt we’re in the real VIP suites, of course, he decided as he looked around.

Their environs weren’t exactly spartan, but they were far from the opulence he’d half expected when he bothered to think about it. The rooms were spacious, furniture reasonably comfortable and in good shape, no tacky gold or other ostentatious displays were in evidence… well, that he could see.

Thinking about it, though, Steph wasn’t certain that he could reasonably tell what was ostentatious given that he had so little context on the culture he was dealing with. For all he knew the walls were covered in some impossible to acquire material worth a fortune.

He was a little disappointed at the lack of serving robots or a replicator, though.

The back of his neck itched slightly where the device Gordon supplied was currently resting. He was all too aware that they only had a couple days charge on the thing, even with it’s auto-charging capacity. Any longer than that, and they’d probably find out the hard way if the Empire had a version of Central at the center of things.

The more he thought about that idea, though, the more it made sense.

Central was very much tied to the culture of the Priminae, unlike Gaia seemed to be by all indications. It was possible Gaia was playing them, of course, it would be damned hard to tell, but at the very least Steph knew that there was no all-knowing central computer on Earth that was regularly being referenced for information.

If Gaia is playing us, she’s more subtle than Central at least.

That was something of a mixed blessing of thoughts, but for the moment he chose to operate on the assumption that humanity from Earth wasn’t being puppeted around like toys of a particularly malicious spirit. If new information changed that, well he’d burn that bridge when he came to it.

The Empire, though, they had too much in common with the Priminae for him not to see the likely connections.

The culture was too old, too rigid in its thinking. Something didn’t smell right about it.

Just like the Priminae.

He glanced over to where Milla was sitting, nearly stiff as board, mixed feelings in him as he looked at her. Possibly, bringing her along was a mistake. She was being faced with the perpetrators of too many horrors on her people here, but he needed her input.

Humans from Earth were not so fixed, so hide bound and enslaved to tradition, as the Priminae were, or the Empire appeared to be.

That might be because of the Entities, but it might have something to do with their genetics too. He’d read the reports. A preliminary scan couldn’t tell Priminae from Imperial from Terran… but if you went deeper, apparently it became obvious.

The human markers were the same, but the evolution was distinctly different. That left junk DNA of different kinds that told the tale of parallel evolution to a degree that had thrown Earth’s entire scientific establishment into an uproar.

The odds of two species evolving in parallel from such disparate origins… well, they weren’t impossible, but they were so unlikely as to be effectively impossible.

What that left, Steph didn’t know.

Guided evolution? The hand of God directing life to take His image? Something no one had yet imagined?

Whatever it was, Steph couldn’t shake the feeling that answering those questions would possibly be the most important thing anyone in history had ever accomplished. He also didn’t expect to live long enough to see it happen.

It explained a lot, though, the questions and differences between the humans and their Priminae allies.

Steph had never really loved the original explanation for the technical achievements and higher flexibility that Terrans could field. Yes, Earth had been at war with itself for all of human history, but war alone wasn’t a good indicator of technical development.

If that were all it took, the Middle East would be the most technically advanced place on the planet, he thought with a snort of mild amusement.

War was merely competition, writ large. And competition alone didn’t determine the speed of technical evolution. In fact, the more he’d looked at the problem, the less competition seemed to have anything to do with it at all, except in very minor ways.

A more telling factor, to his mind at least, was restrictions.

If you wanted people to develop something new, just tell them they couldn’t use the old tried and true methods anymore.

Germany, World War Two, had a great many arbitrary restrictions thrown at them as blockades came down from all sides. Their reach into the impossible had become something of legend in the near cultish following that war had. The Allies really didn’t have the same problem, nor impulse, during the war. They won by simply throwing more resources at the problem than Germany could hope to match.

Quantity over quality, Steph thought darkly.

Despite what many desperately wanted to believe, quantity usually won. The times it didn’t, well those weren’t really fights. If the quality was high enough to trump quantity, then it was just adults beating on children in a sandbox.

There were other examples as well, of course. Dozens of them over the decades. What that really told him about the Empire and the Priminae, though, he wasn’t sure.

Did it mean that they’d simply not had to deal with the arbitrary restrictions that were simply part of life on Earth?

That could be… He supposed. Even Earth, now that space travel was becoming more normalized, was finding that many of those restrictions simply didn’t exist.

Need gold for a project? It was dirt cheap… literally because it was just dirt. There were uncountable trillions of tons of the stuff floating around the solar system, just waiting for a drone to go fetch some. You could literally hire a company to drop a ton of Gold, Platinum, almost any material you wanted on your front yard for just the cost of fuel, wages, and time.

It was possible, he supposed, that Earth was about to become just as stagnant as the Empire and the Priminae.

For some reason, that thought scared him more than the fact that he was about to meet with the literal enemy queen in her own throne room.

Weird.

*****

“They do not appear as much,” Emilia said idly, looking away from the imager and glancing at Jehan curiously. “Are their skills truly what was reported?”

Jehan Mich shrugged slightly, “I saw them in battle twice. Once was merely to run from my squadron when we happened upon their conflict with another polity in the Free Stars. I do not know if I would describe Captain Teach’s actions there as skillful so much as incredibly reckless, but arguably his decision to take such chances was warranted by the situation… so, perhaps.”

Emilia nodded thoughtfully, remembering the report on the incident.

It was possible, she thought, that the Empire had cultivated too ruthless a reputation within the free stars. Certainly, there was value to being so feared as to drive all that fled before you to near suicidal actions, but there was also a point of diminishing returns on such a reputation. She decided that it was something to think on, but it did bring another thought to mind.

“Perhaps, but by your report it seemed that his squadron was in a position to escape easily. Only his choice to attempt to save the Destroyer put him in such a position.”

“This is true. Whether that be noble, foolish, or some other attribute I cannot say,” Jehan admitted. “His actions at the resource star, however, were more clearly and easily analyzable.”

“Indeed, I agree.” Emilia responded.

That battle had been a skillful example of clearly knowing the enemy’s thoughts so well that the captain hadn’t even needed close to a parity of forces to cut them apart. Although, trapping himself against the Neutron star would have been his end had Jehan opted to follow through with the assault, as he would have under almost all other circumstances.

By the Fleet Commander’s own report, only his utter disgust with the defeated force had stayed him from immediately enacting Imperial Policy in its literal form to protect the resource star and maintain its assets for the use of the Empire.

It was a disgust that Emelia shared, having watched the recordings of the battle.

The Free Stars may have been degraded beyond any real value to the Empire as a training ground, she thought. It may be time to officially annex them, particularly if the plan to open a new colonial movement is enacted.

She didn’t like the idea; it was far too early in the original schedule for such actions. Annexing the Free Stars should be up to her children, or theirs at the latest, not a decision left to herself. However, if they were about to open an official Colonial Program, it might be worth doing. Any commanders of value from the Free Stars could be… encouraged to flee the Annexation, with appropriate resources of course, to fortify the new colonial space and prepare them for the time they could declare their independence from the Empire.

That would establish a new training ground for the fleets in the coming years, neatly shifting the current issues a generation or two down the line while maintaining the Empire’s ongoing expansion efforts.

It was worth thinking on, she felt, but for the moment there were other things to look to.

“What is your impression of his squadron? Their resources, ships, skills?” She asked the Fleet Commander.

Jehan met her eyes steadily, silent for a moment as he considered the question carefully.

As he should, Emilia thought with some amusement.

Finally, the Fleet Commander nodded slowly and spoke.

“They’re clearly backed by an unknown government, their ships are well constructed, if small, and their training is excellent. Far above the standard for the Free Stars,” Jehan said firmly. “That puts them quite solidly into the best of the best of the region. Which polity backs them, I do not know as of yet. However, it is unlikely to be one of the premier polities of the region.”

“Oh? And why would you claim this?” she asked, curious to know the Fleet Commander’s reasoning.

“One of the top powers would have given them more effective ships, at least one or two larger and more powerful ones,” Jehan said. “Acting as they are, there are strict limits to their capabilities so long as they can only bring such small craft to the battle. Even a small Imperial Task Force would force them to flee.”

“Obviously,” Emilia said with an amused chuff of air. “Thought that may be the point. None could mount an effective fight against the Empire, so why field a group that might be forced to at some point?”

“Perhaps, but I still feel that it will not be one of the pre-emminent powers of the region,” Jehan said, “No. It will be a smaller power, one that is afraid of working in the open.”

“That is not badly reasoned, I suppose,” Emilia conceded. “To what end, do you believe are they working against us?”

Jehan snorted involuntarily, “Apologies, my Empress, but none of the Free Star powers, large or small, are so foolish as to target the Empire directly. No, if they’re working against us, it will not be in any direct manner and, in fact, I would be surprised if Captain Teach were aware of it if it were so.”

Emilia nodded. That made some sense. It would not be a wise thing to send out a man like that against the Empire while letting him know what he was truly doing. One mistake would put him in Imperial hands, and from there? Well, there were easier ways to end your government than to act directly against the Empire, easier and far less painful.

It was possible, of course, that they were part of a larger and more complex plan, in which the actors didn’t have any idea the parts they truly played… but few were the strategists up to such a scheme, even in the most hypothetical of terms.

Only the Empire thinks so far ahead.

“Very well,” Emilia said, rising from her position. “Fetch the man and his retainers. I will speak with him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

*****

Steph took a breath, forcing himself to at least appear relaxed as he, Gordon, and Milla, were led along a corridor toward their audience with Her Majesty. He noted the slight tremor in Milla’s motions out of the corner of her eye as they moved, and again worried that he was asking too much of the young lady.

“Relax, it’s just a meet and greet,” He smiled at her, choosing his words carefully, “If we’re lucky, we pick up a nice contract. There’s no reason to be scared.”

She shot him a sharp look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, and saying, and wasn’t amused.

“I reserve the right to be nervous when meeting an Empress, Captain,” she growled, the emphasis she used making her meaning clear to him.

Nervous hell, He almost snorted. He’d never seen Milla this close to a murderous rage before, and the image was sobering.

Many considered the Priminae to be the epitome of Harmless. As a people they were pacifists to a fault, and that wasn’t merely his opinion. Many on Earth believed that they were ultimately a doomed group, and not true Pacifists, because they had the absurd notion that they were harmless, not pacifists.

The idea went that you could only be a pacifist if you were first capable of doing harm, but then chose not to.

Like all ivory tower bullshit, it sounded good to someone looking for a reason to believe just that sort of tripe.

Humans were predators by nature. There was no such thing as a harmless human. Take the weakest, stupidest, and most useless human you could find, then put them in a corner, and see what happened.

If you only got your throat torn out, you could count yourself lucky in Steph’s opinion.

In fact, he didn’t fear blustering fools who bragged about their strength. He feared the quiet ones, who never lifted a hand in violence in their life… because if you crossed whatever their line was, they had no experience with violence in order to stop when they’d won.

A braggart bully would sneer at you while you were picking yourself up off the ground, but a peaceful man driven to violence? He’d likely not even realize he’d killed you until he woke from his rage.

Do not drive a man of peace to pick up a weapon. Peaceful men had no idea of their limits and thus… had none.

Steph was honestly worried that he was seeing that right then in Milla, and he did not want to have to try shooting his way out of the Imperial Capital because one of his crew had committed Regicide… however warranted the action might be.

“Please, Chans,” He chided her in as easy tone as he could manage. “Don’t insult our hosts in such crass manner, we are guests here. It behooves civil people to be civil.”

She visibly restrained herself, smiling a little too sweetly at him, “Of course, mon Capitaine. As always, you are correct.”

Hoo boy, laying it on thick there, Steph just barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes at that bit, but at least she didn’t appear to be standing on that knife edge any longer. Before he could do anything else, however, they arrived at great doors that blocked their path.

“Her Majesty’s will be done.”

The intoned words had something of a ceremonial or ritualistic sound to his ears, but Steph couldn’t be certain. The massive circular door that capped the corridor, however, seemed to respond to them, the thick door grinding as it rolled out of the way.

That’s an interesting design choice, he noted as his eyes sought the room that existed beyond the door.

The chambers they were invited into were… somehow both beyond his imagining and far more in keeping with his expectations than the waiting rooms they’d been housed in had been.

It was a massive chamber, clearly taking up several levels of the building in which they rested, with observation decks in a ring about a central dais that floated above them all… somehow…

Steph’s mind felt like it was twisting as he looked at the room, a little uncertain what he was seeing exactly. It wasn’t architecture, that much was for sure. Not in any form he’d seen, at least. No conventional construction technique could do what he was seeing.

As they moved through the doors, Steph felt a shift… it wasn’t in his gut or his inner ear, but somehow, he still felt almost like he had back on the Odyssey when moving from the independent lifts into the rotating habitats.

What had been down… wasn’t now, and down was something else.

It was… disconcerting, but he forced his guts to calm down and stop distracting him as he lifted his head to observe the throne.

More bullshit design, I see.

Steph looked to either side, then glanced up and down, doing his best to get his head wrapped around what he was seeing.

The throne was floating just high enough above his head, such that he was forced to look up about twenty degrees to see the Empress on it. From what he was seeing around him, that was roughly the same as everyone else in the globe shaped room.

The damn room is straight out of Escher’s nightmares, Steph thought dryly. I bet you that the throne is somehow facing every person in the room too… or close enough, at least.

He wasn’t certain if it was something that every person present saw with that level of precision, or if the effect had some type of zone discrimination built in. The second would make more sense to him, of course, requiring a lot less calculations to be made on the fly, but with unknown technology it was never really a good idea to make assumptions.

It took some moments for him to shake the awe at such a spectacular display and to focus on the person seated there on the throne.

She was young, that was his first real impression. Very young.

Steph wondered, absently, when this Empress had assumed the throne. To be sitting there, with no one at her side to offer advice?

No. She must have advisors, this is for show. They’re making her seem more than she is, He thought as he took in the scene.

It was a pretty impressive show, he had to note just for the record of his own mind. The young girl, or woman, sitting there in a floating throne that was somehow precisely at the center of everyone’s gaze? It sent a message. She was the center of the Empire, of the Galaxy perhaps, he thought as he noted the star patterns glowing from the walls of the massive room.

Good symbolism, He ceded mentally. Bit arrogant, but then what else would I be expecting here?

In his periphery he saw Jesan bowing and quickly tapped Gordon on the side as he followed suit, making a slight noise to get Milla’s attention. Steph was thankful when the Priminae woman followed his lead, despite coming from a culture in which no one bowed, groveled, or scraped to anyone else.

He breathed a bit more easily as he noted Jesan rising up and following suit, eyes again on the woman seated before them.

She looks… small.

Not that he had any delusions that size mattered all that much, but some people could look and feel big even when they were tiny, and some huge people somehow could manage to shrink in on themselves until you’d almost not even notice they were right there beside you.

The Empress, however, just seemed… small.

It was an incongruity that nagged at him, but he couldn’t find any reason for it to, which only made the nagging more irritating.

As with the others, for the moment, Steph opted to push his thoughts aside and just focus on not pissing off the Empress of a hostile stellar polity.

It would look bad on his resume.

*****

Emilia looked over the small group as they looked back at her. She could see their eyes measuring her while trying to hide it. The slight confusion in the eyes of the man she’d been told was Captain Teach struck her as amusing for a moment, but she had things to deal with at the moment that superseded her own entertainment.

“What are your thoughts, Father?” she asked softly, moving her lips as little as possible as she did.

Her father’s presence had not gone unnoticed beside her, but he was being unusually quiet to her mind. Normally he would have already whispered his insight to her concerning the subjects of her interest, but for whatever reason had opted not to thus far.

“I… am uncertain,” He admitted softly, sounding rather put out by that.

That took her by surprise, Emilia had to admit. Her father had never had any reservations about offering his thoughts before, and always seemed to know what everyone around her was thinking in fact.

A soft chuckle came from the man, and she looked to one side in surprise in time to see him looking at her with a fond smile.

“Not everyone, Daughter,” He said, practically confirming her thoughts with that one statement. “There are those I’ve known that have been… difficult to read. It is uncommon, but not unknown by any means. These three are such, for the most part.”

Emilia nodded slightly, though she was confused and didn’t fully understand what he was saying, and instead turned her own focus on the group.

“The leader seems… at ease,” She noted, mildly surprised. Most people, even those who were here often, had some tension at being in the throne room.

“He projects such, but he is more nervous than he would like you to admit.”

She smiled a coy smile, glancing swiftly back to her father, “So you can read them?”

“No one is completely blank, my dearest daughter,” he told her. “Not ever, so long as they live…”

He tilted his head slightly to one side, considering that, “And even in death, sometimes, you can read much… but that is for another time.”

Emilia nodded, returning her focus to the people at hand. The other man was… familiar. She’d seen his sort before, she decided, though when exactly she wasn’t certain. He held himself little differently from any of the vast numbers of courtiers that she dealt with day in and out, albeit with slightly less obsequious attitude.

The woman…

“She’s angry,” Emilia said, slightly surprised and a little confused.

She was hiding it well, but there were signs that couldn’t be so easily masked. The woman was clearly suppressing a serious degree of anger, and while her discipline was impressive for being able to do so, she really wasn’t particularly adept at a proper masking of her emotions.

“Curious…” she murmured.

“Quite likely that an Imperial action has brought harm to her at some point,” her father suggested mildly. “Watch her, in case it should affect her actions going forward, but without more information there is little to do with this knowledge.”

She nodded imperceptibly, there was truth to both statements there, Emilia decided.

With her own observations and discussions of such with her father concluded, Emilia leaned forward.

It was time to begin this audience properly.

“Welcome,” she said in the quiet tone she always used in the room. “The Empire is most pleased and honored to host you during your visit.”

*****

Chapter Fifteen

World Kraike, Imperial Tower

Steph smiled easily, bowing his head again as he took in the Empress’ greeting.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, the honor and privilege is ours I assure you. We were most pleased when the Fleet Commander passed along your request that we attend you.”

That was difficult. Not smiling and smarming to an enemy. Steph had done that more than once in the past but finding words that wouldn’t sound too much like he was intentionally smarming up to her, while making it clear that he was, in fact, being as smarmy as possible.

It was a very strange balance to walk.

Keep your distance, he thought, amusing himself. Just don’t look like you’re keeping your distance. Fly casual. Hope it works.

“Indeed,” she replied, a chilly smile gracing her visage in return.

The observers from the court murmured softly, but no ire was heard from them, so Steph assumed that his response passed muster. The last thing he needed was anyone upset with him for insulting the Empress, especially given that they’d had to hitch a ride down to the surface and were literally unarmed and at the mercy of the Empire for transport.

There would be no hair-raising escape at the last moment if this went wrong.

So, let’s put it all on the line.

“If it pleases Your Majesty, might we be informed as to the reason for our audience?” he asked as politely as he could manage.

The Empress smiled thinly, “To the point, I see? Most would wait for me to bring up the subject.”

Indeed, he could hear murmurs from the others across the audience chamber and Steph swallowed, hoping he hadn’t tripped over a social landmine. There were bound to be a lot of them, and that was even without his real identity being revealed.

“My most sincere apologies if I erred,” He bowed his head again. “But I would not waste any of your time if it were in my power to avoid.”

“I see,” The Empress said neutrally, an eyebrow raising slightly as she smiled. “I often wish my own courtiers would take a similar path in my dealings with them, but unfortunate as it is, traditions overrule even the Empress’ desires in some ways.”

She laughed lightly, rising to her feet as the throne seemed to grow closer suddenly, making Steph blink as he first thought it was moving but somehow it didn’t feel like that. Instead, it was more like the intervening space was… shrinking.

Warp field tech? In a planetary atmosphere? That’s insane.

If he needed any proof that the Empire was a star faring culture with far more experience in the technologies they used than anything humans from Earth had yet managed, that would do it. Warping spacetime was a tricky thing, and doing it wrong had some nasty effects on the human body if they were caught in too close.

For the Empire to be this confident in their technology spoke of a lot of experience in making Spacetime do their bidding.

Without motion, and without hesitating, the Empress of the Starsbane Empire stepped from her throne’s dais and onto the reception gallery that held Steph, Milla, Seamus, as well as Jesan and the guards that had accompanied them.

“Again, I welcome you to the Imperial Capitol,” she said genially. “Our discussions will be made in private, however.”

Uncertain as to the terms normally followed when meeting the Empress, Steph bowed low over her hand, refraining from kissing her fingers or rings mostly because he was honestly uncertain if that might not result in him being shot for the affrontery.

“As you will it, Your Majesty.”

Emilia nodded, once, and eyed him closely before she stepped past. “Indeed. Jesan, bring them to the private chambers.”

“At your Command.”

Then she swept past them, through the guards, and into the corridor beyond without any further word.

Steph glanced back and noticed that the entire room had somehow cleared out in the moments he was getting his head wrapped around encountering the Empress up close. Now it was just his team, Fleet Commander Jesan, and their guard remaining.

He looked to the throne, eyes narrowing as he tried to spot any tell tale warping of the light but couldn’t.

Did I really see what I thought I saw? Or was it a trick to impress the rube?

Steph didn’t know, but at that moment he was very much feeling himself the rube indeed.

*****

Milla Chans fought very hard to keep herself from shaking as the woman in charge of the Empire swept past where she stood, barely feet away. She’d never in her life hated anyone before, not even the Drasin themselves. Them, she feared. She was adult enough, and honest enough, to say that without any compunction or hesitation.

The Drasin were beasts, though, more akin to a disease than an enemy.

In a way she hated them, but it was an abstract thing, the way you could hate a storm for the damage it did, though it was nothing personal.

This woman, this Empress, had signed off on the slaughter of her people… and all Milla could do was bow and scrape as she stood there, breathing the same air as she did. Her hand twitched, wanting to seek out the weapon she’d taken to carrying after all the battles she’d been through, but of course it wasn’t there. They’d known that there was nothing they could possibly have that would get through Imperial screenings for weapons, toxins, and the like.

Their personal communications devices, the little scramblers provided by Gordon, and some other minor bits of gear were all they’d been able to bring with them.

Attacking the monster would do nothing for the people we lost anyway, and even less for those who yet live.

There was a deep irony in the situation that both amused and horrified Milla to her core.

In her entire life she’d never felt the desire to harm another soul, until now. Now that she’d come face to face with a monster deserving of violence, however? Doing so would accomplish nothing but suffering for her own people.

Milla stilled her hand, and relaxed her expression.

She had a duty to accomplish, and she would see it through.

*****

Gordon watched the faces of everyone in his line of sight as he followed along, heading for the actual meeting with the Empress.

There were some oddities at play, but he couldn’t be certain as to what was the cause of them. Some of the reactions he’d seen, both to the Empress and to Stephanos’ words and actions weren’t quite in keeping with his expectations, but they weren’t far enough out for him to draw any conclusions.

So far, nothing was telling him what he wanted to know about the Empire, but he was used to having to dig before he got to actually find what he was looking for. This time around, however, he just hoped that he had the time to do so.

Chans is worrying, though.

The young Priminae was clearly running on the edge of control, something he hadn’t seen coming. She was normally the calmest and most level-headed of the crew onboard Archangel One.

That might not be saying much, not really when you considered the rest of the people on board. Stephanos was hardly the most stable rock, at least not by standard definitions, and the less said about his Co-Pilot or the Marines the better in Gordon’s opinion… but Chans had always been… rational. Calm.

Now she was shaking with fury that a kindergartener couldn’t miss, and it was a threat to their entire operation.

She’s going to get us killed, maybe she already has…

Gordon had seen the Empress’s glance in the young woman’s direction, and knew that there was no chance that a politician literally born into the role would have missed it. If she took offence, there was every chance that they’d not be walking out of this meeting alive.

This is what I get for working with amateurs.

*****

Jesan paused at the end of the corridor, turning back to his guests.

“Her Majesty awaits beyond this door,” he intoned more than spoke. “You will behave with respect, or I will see you ended. Is that understood?”

“Of course,” Teach said simply. “I expect nothing less.”

Jesan watched the pirate Captain glance to one side, just a quick look but a telling one, at the female member of their party.

“We are professionals,” Teach said, his eyes coming back to meet Jesan’s. “Our personal feelings are secondary to the job, always.”

Jesan stared for a moment before grunting his acceptance. It was rather the best he was going to get, he supposed.

“I will be watching.”

*****

Damn it, Milla, if you had this kind of problem with the Empire, you should have told me.

Steph certainly understood her feelings. He didn’t exactly have any cozy thoughts about them himself, but sometimes the job required killing the enemy, and sometimes it required swallowing your pride, smiling through clenched teeth, and sharing a drink with them. If you couldn’t do one or the other, you had to step back and leave the job to someone who could.

We’ve not been this close, before though, so I understand how she might not even have realized it herself. Damn it, we can’t afford this, not here, not now. We’re so close!

There was little to be done about it, however, he knew that much. Sometimes the mission dropped surprises on you, that was just life in the field.

Only way out, is through.

Steph forced a smile, “Let us not keep Her Majesty waiting.”

The Fleet Commander stared for a moment longer before nodding curtly and stepping aside, a gesture to the guards that Steph almost missed entirely was all it took to have the door opened, as if of its own accord.

Steph looked through and held in an urge to whistle.

Now that’s more like it.

The room beyond the door was more in keeping with what he had expected from the center of Imperial Power, though the throne room had certainly exceeded expectations… or, at least imaginations. This one, however, spoke to power in another way.

It wasn’t gold he was seeing, but a purplish metal adorning much of the room and furnishings. It gleamed, almost of its own light, and he suspected that it wasn’t anything they’d mined from the planet. The furnishings were rich, well made, and looked to be done by a human hand rather than machine… though he supposed that might be his personal bias speaking up.

It was a more personal, almost intimate room, when compared to the throne room but like that most impressive location, this was centered around the woman seated within as they entered.

Up close, he got a better look at the Empress, taking in details he’d missed while she was on her throne or walking toward and past them.

She was a beautiful young lady, long hair that was almost… white. Not blond white, nor gray white, something else he couldn’t quite place. He wondered briefly if it was natural or not, but figured it didn’t really matter.

“Welcome,” she smiled at he and his group, her eyes shifting and lingering for a moment on both Milla and… Jesan.

Interesting.

“The Starsbane Empire bids you to sit. We have much to discuss.”

*****

Emilia looked over the group, this time in person, as they took the seats provided. Her earlier estimations of them were largely unchanged, of course, but more detail was always an asset.

The leader, their Captain Teach, was younger than she’d realized even from earlier observations. It was more apparent up close, a lack of lines in his face and a certain brightness to his eyes that she knew would dim with the application of experience and time.

Which wasn’t to say that she didn’t see both of those in his eyes as well.

In her life, Emilia had seen a great many warriors of the Empire, and many of the most dangerous had the look she saw in his eyes now. Young enough, bright enough, to be at the front and be willing to lay everything on the line in a… personal way… but old enough, and experienced enough, to be a threat beyond the obvious.

Jesan had that look, once, just before his elevation to his Lordship title.

Not that the Fleet Commander was any less dangerous now, if anything he was more dangerous than ever… just not in the personal way that had ruled his youth. The man was a leader of men now, not just a leader of soldiers.

She turned her attention to the young woman, again wondering what her problem with the Empire was. It was clear she didn’t want to be in the room, or likely on the planet for that matter. Her anger was tempered though, and the looks Emilia saw being darted towards the young Captain told her a great deal about the means of tempering. She had a loyalty to him, even if he led her somewhere she did not want to be.

Interesting.

The third… he was… nothing.

She’d seen his type a thousand times before, and likely would a thousand times in the future. Jesan had informed her that he was the squadron’s ‘purser’, a phrase she’d had to look up it was so old. A merchant, a dickering little merchant, who cared little for anything but fortunes… his own, or someone else’s, it likely didn’t matter to him.

She ignored him, nothing about the man interested her.

“Captain Teach,” she said, focusing her eyes on the man of the hour. “I’ve seen the recordings from Fleet Commander Mich’s encounters with you… you are quite the risk taker, if I might say so.”

“Risks are part of the job, Your Majesty.”

“Certainly, certainly,” she conceded easily, a quirk of a smile on her lips. “But you take more than you need to. There was no reason for you to rescue that Destroyer, risking your ship? Your squadron? Why do that, for the enemy?”

Teach met her gaze for a moment before he smiled in a slightly rueful manner, “Honestly? I wanted the ship.”

The answer was so absurd that she almost laughed at him.

“The ship? I’ve seen the records, Captain,” she scoffed, amused by the insane response. “It was not worth a fraction of one of your own, especially considering how much it out massed your vessels while still being clearly underpowered by comparison. Whatever could you possibly have wanted it for?”

“The Dutchman was a symbol we needed,” he answered. “It showed that enemies could surrender to us in the future, and trust that we would not kill them out of hand.”

Emilia leaned back, her face turning slightly cold.

Was that a slight at Imperial policies? Likely…

“I see,” she said simply.

“I have no doubt you do,” Teach responded. “But in case, I’ll explain anyway. My squadron is effective, certainly, but we don’t have the mass of metal or firepower to treat with enemies from a position of superiority. The Free Stars… is not a nice place, Your Majesty. The governments are not ruled by such as yourself. At best they’re headed by competent despots… at worst? Beggars, if you can believe. Word spreads fast, and if the crews know that they can surrender… well, that’s one less ship we need to fight to achieve our goal.”

Emilia relaxed marginally, hearing his explanation.

It made sense, in a roundabout way, she decided. Without the fleets of the Empire, a small squadron would not have the capability to simply suck up any foes and spit them out in passing.

“And if your mission were to destroy them all?” she prodded gently.

“Well, in that… most unlikely of cases…” Teach responded slowly… “I suppose it would be best if we ensured that there were no witnesses to spread the tale, would it not?”

She met his gaze for a moment, impressed that he didn’t flinch, and read the subtext of his statement.

I wonder how unlikely such a mission really has been for his little crew? She couldn’t imagine it was common, despite the implication. Cultivating the reputation he had was difficult, and it would be destroyed by a simple mistake in such an act… But… if he has done such a thing…

It would be commendably ruthless, she decided, her formal smile returning to grace her expression.

“Of course, I see,” she nodded. “I suppose you have been wondering why I had you summoned?”

Teach seemed to relax marginally, “We had hoped it was with a contract in mind, of course, but if that is not the case, then I just hope it is not because we’ve offended your Majesty.”

That brought a momentarily real smile, one that reached her eyes if only for an instant.

“No, I cannot say that you have, yet at least,” Emilia Starsbane replied. “Your hope is to be rewarded. The Empire has been having… an issue in a bordering area. Not the Free Stars, no we’ve encountered a new Polity, one that has allied with our enemies and made itself something of a difficulty.”

*****

Chapter Sixteen

NACS Odysseus

Eric examined the data that was feeding into their systems. The longer they lingered in the region the more detailed their lightspeed limited scans became, but very little of what he had was making a lot of sense.

There was clearly a gravity issue within the system. It was disrupting the orbits of the known worlds in a distinct enough manner to make it clear that they were dealing with, at least, a sizeable task group of Cruiser class ships. The problem was, thus far they hadn’t been able to find them.

That shouldn’t be.

“Scans are still coming up blank,” Heathe told him, her tone almost petulant as she too pored over the data they had, looking for the source of the anomaly.

He nodded, unwilling to say anything himself… mostly for fear of sounding petulant as well.

The issue was, of course, that a star system was a massive sector of space. This one was the better part of a hundred AU out to the Heliopause, filled with planets, asteroids, comets, and who knew what else…

Besides at least one enemy task group, Eric thought sourly.

The issue was that they probably had the group scanned, to one degree or another. It was pretty difficult to hide, per se, in empty space. That didn’t make it easy to find a group of ships, however. Just because they couldn’t hide, didn’t mean they were easy to find.

The Space Paradox, I suppose we could call it.

Getting sufficiently high-res scans of the entire star system for even the impressive computing of the task group to filter through was a titanic task. It wasn’t enough to just sweep the entire sector and tell the computers to find a ship. No, each section of space had to be scanned… in detail… which mean adjusting focus for each sector thousands of times, looking through the depth of the scan before you could even think of moving on to scan the next sector.

This is going to take forever.

That wasn’t hyperbole, either. A complete scan of a star system was a very nearly impossible task. If the ships were hiding near a point of interest, such as one of the planets or more curious moons, there was almost no chance of getting a visual image of them.

That meant that they had to reverse engineer the location from the ships’ effect on system gravity… and that…

It might not be as impossible, but it wasn’t something to be taken lightly either.

“The Priminae records give us a gravimetric baseline to work from, but I’m not sure it’s precise enough for this work,” Eric grumbled after a moment.

“I know,” Heathe responded. “They did a survey as part of their mining efforts, of course, but no follows ups afterwards, and the survey only covered the primary system gravity sources. There are probably hundreds of potential gravity sources out there that could have dropped in the system since the survey and thrown off the system motion. I don’t think we can find them this way either, Commodore.”

Eric nodded grimly, coming to the same conclusion himself.

“Then we’ll have to go in after them,” he said firmly.

“Sir, it’s almost certainly a trap.”

He snorted, “You don’t need to tell me that, Captain. If the system were any less valuable, I’d sail right on past, but you saw the files the Priminae sent over. We can’t lose this system.”

She sighed, “Agreed.”

“Rig for fighting, Captain,” Eric forced a smile. “We have a trap to set off.”

“I wish you wouldn’t smile when you say things like that, Sir.”

“I know, why do you think I do it?”

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

Ship’s Commander Meld started awaking as an alarm sounded in his room, and was already moving for the door before it stopped and he heard his ship’s second in command speaking over the system.

“Ship’s Commander, the enemy task group has begun their approach to the system.”

“About time,” He grumbled, getting dressed as he calmed down from the initial post-wake panic. “How long?”

“They are accelerating slowly, Commander, we have time.”

Of course, they did.

Meld sighed as he took in the mistakes he’d made attempting to get dressed quickly. Running out into the ship like that would be fine if it were a true emergency, or forgivable at least, but he would not do so otherwise.

So, he stopped entirely and got undressed again before beginning to get redressed at a more proper pace.

Protocol. Meld sighed. It was a way of life.

*****

Some time later, longer than he’d have preferred, Meld made his way onto the command deck and immediately went to the long-range scanning systems.

“Give me an update,” he ordered.

“No change from the alert,” his second in command confirmed easily. “They’re moving in system at a cautious pace. Clearly, they assume a trap.”

Meld snorted, “Of course they assume a trap. Only a fool wouldn’t, but will it matter?”

“Unknown,” the second, Sub-Commander Milgral responded with a fatalistic shrug. “They have provided too many bizarre technologies to know what they might be able to do now.”

Meld didn’t like to admit it, but there was a lot of truth to that statement. The enemy that had sided with the Oathers were not ones to fit in any simple category, as nearly every other group in the known reaches did. Unknowns were more dangerous than simple power in an enemy, at least to his thinking.

He'd dealt with powerful fleets, been part of the Imperial operations that pounded them back into the star stuff they’d began as. Those were grueling sorts of fights, that killed tens of thousands in the blink of an eye, but you generally knew which way things were going to end before you even began.

Steel yourself for the casualties, and then just wade through the blood… If you’re on the winning side, of course.

The Empire was always on the winning side.

Unpredictable foes, however, made a mockery of battle planning, often undercutting discipline with their bizarre actions, and making people feel like they were losing even when they were clearly not.

The unexpected had a worse effect on morale than death in many cases. You could prepare for death, but… well, if you prepared for the unexpected, it wasn’t really unexpected, was it?

“Track them,” he ordered, uselessly in his opinion, but it put the order on record and, as he’d thought before… protocol. “Inform me if anything changes.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Eric kept an eye on the repeaters that were feeding to the Flag Bridge of the ship, looking for any sign of what exactly the enemy was planning. He doubted that he’d see it before the analysts watching the same data did, but one more set of eyes wouldn’t hurt and at least he’d be generally familiar with the data when some egghead popped up with an answer and an explanation that would take a few hours if he weren’t already prepared.

The exotic plasma coiling between the hot Jupiter and the local primary was an interesting element, now that he’d read up on it. A gaseous superconductor, capable of doing things he was reasonably certain natural law didn’t exactly account for. It was no wonder that it was considered a vital resource by the Priminae.

You’d think that they’d build up more defenses in the system, though.

Unfortunately, that was very much in keeping with his experiences of the Priminae culture. They were peaceful to a fault, and seemed to expect the universe to follow their general pattern.

Idealistic, foolish… but noble, in its own way, I suppose, Eric thought as he pored over the data feeds.

He liked the Priminae, he truly did, but some of their engrained responses to the universe honestly baffled him. There was something… inhuman, maybe? He wasn’t sure exactly, but there was something about their inability to change, adapt, that struck him as wrong. Not in a moral sense, but in the evolutionary sense.

He, and a lot of others like him, had spent many hours thinking, and talking, about the conundrum posed by the Priminae. How could any human race wind up so utterly… caught in their own rut as the Priminae had? And now, it seemed, that the Empire was damn near as bad, if in another direction entirely.

It made no sense to him, but that was something that Eric had been forced to get used to a long time before. When things didn’t make sense, he knew well that it really just meant that he was missing a key piece of information needed to make it all fall into place.

Someday, maybe I’ll find out what the hell that is, He thought with some amusement.

“Perhaps you will.”

Eric barely kept from leaping out of his own skin as his heart spiked and he twisted in place before his brain caught up with his body and he stopped in favor of just glaring at the entity.

“I told you to stop doing that to people,” He grumbled, turning back to the console before him.

“I was not attempting to startle you, Commodore,” Odysseus said simply, “You were merely more caught up in your thoughts than normal. The quandary of the Empire and the Priminae is an interesting one, however, so I do understand.”

“I shouldn’t be distracted right now, especially by inconsequential thoughts, though,” Eric grumbled, mentally castigating himself for the slip.

“It will be many hours before anything happens, as you well know.”

“Not if they’re further out than we calculated.”

“Unlikely,” Odysseus responded. “We did not approach on our original vector, and if they’d powered drives to intercept, we would have spotted them. The odds that they are in our current path are… miniscule.”

Eric sighed; he knew that was the truth without question. The Odysseus had shifted course to move off the system plane, which would make it even harder to setup any sort of ambush during their approach… but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Something is going on,” He growled. “And I don’t know what it is… that makes me paranoid, Odysseus. They have a plan, and we don’t. That’s not a great way to start a fight, any fight.”

The entity nodded solemnly beside him, “This is true, however if you have taught me… and your crews one thing, it is that training will beat almost anything… and we do have that.”

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“Enemy still approaching on scanned path, speed… very low.”

Meld wanted to swear, but didn’t. He understood the enemy commander’s caution, and most times might even applaud it… but right now it was just putting him on edge for no reason beyond the fact that he wanted to get this entire operation over with.

At their current rate we’ll be here for days.

There was not a lot he could do about such things, however, since any movement on his part would inevitably result in the exposure of his ships and people, which would not end in anyway that he wanted, and that was being generous about things.

“Understood,” he said aloud, “Continue monitoring, advise upon any changes.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld rose from his station and made his way over to the weapons control section.

“Are we ready?” He asked in a low voice.

“Yes, Ship’s Commander. The devices are in place, and all queries have returned in the affirmative.”

“Excellent. Continue as planned then.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

Waiting was part of the job. He knew that better than most, but some types of waiting, however, was more than merely a way to test his patience. The more that was resting on an operation, the more it truly tested, he supposed.

The Empire had decided that this mission was worth the effort, however, so he could comply and make certain that it all went to plan.

“Hold all stations,” he ordered. “Stay to the plan, we let them move into position. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Odysseus was standing again on the exterior deck, looking out into the void.

He didn’t really have to be; his sensory input was similar whether he manifested within the ship, or without, or simply didn’t manifest at all… but there was something, oddly human about standing on the deck of the ship as it moved toward its destination… even if it was in hard vacuum and moving a decent chunk of the speed of light.

He knew for a fact that a lot of his crew wanted nothing more than to don EVA gear and do exactly what he was doing, despite the intense risk it would involve.

Humans were strange.

The experience helped him… not think, precisely, but… understand his thoughts, that was perhaps the best explanation he could manage, even in his own mind.

With the ship and task group slowly easing into the gravity well of the primary ahead of them, he had a lot of thoughts he needed to understand. That came back to the ‘humans are strange’ side of things, as so much seemed to in his life.

Is life accurate? he wondered, not for the first time before putting that line of thought away for the time being. He’d spent many hours in the past pondering just that, but the best he’d come up with was… maybe? For the moment he didn’t have the time to waste on such things.

In the distance, the primary of this system wasn’t much brighter than any other star in the sky, at least not within the human range of vision. Even for him, it was not a simple matter to differentiate the primary from other stars at a glance.

Radiation fell off exponentially over distance, until at a certain range the light you were seeing was effectively only the photons coming straight at you. That was part of the reason that shadows on a planet like Earth, which was eight light minutes from the sun, all fell in the same direction rather than diverging as they would from a closer light source.

The net effect at this range was that parallax was almost impossible to use for ranging, and active scanners took too long to get a proper reading, and so the star just looked like a marginally bright spot against a field of barely dimmer ones.

Odysseus was aware of the system’s Heliopause as he passed it, however, and knew the range well based on that and his own innate understanding of the ship’s movement via the dead reckoning systems that kept track of their movements as a submarine might.

They were just under a hundred astronomical units from the system primary, and teetering right on the brink of beginning their fall down the well generated by the massive star’s twisting of space/time. Out there, in the black, there was an enemy waiting for them. He knew that with the same certainty that the crew, Captain, and Commodore had… but despite every enhanced sense he had, all the advantages he had over the humans on board, Odysseus could not tell where the enemy was.

And it frustrated him.

*****

“Anomalous gravity scans are still lighting up the board, Commodore, but we’ve nothing to pinpoint their source.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Eric nodded to the image of Miram Heath on the screen. “As you were.”

“Aye Sir.”

The screen flickered to an image of the Terran Alliance Logo as Eric turned back to his own repeater feeds from the ship’s scanners.

He didn’t really need Miram to update him on the situation; he was monitoring everything in real time, but protocol was protocol… and Eric knew well enough that many wouldn’t be monitoring in real time in his position. The book said that the Rear Admiral in charge of a task group was to keep apprized of the situation via compressed briefs, ostensibly because his time was more valuable and should be spent carefully on the most important subjects.

It wasn’t a bad idea, in theory, but it had a lot more application on Earth when distances were short, and time was at a premium. In space? Well, he’d had to wait several minutes once to learn whether the laser he’d ordered to fire had hit or missed its target.

A military strategist on Earth had once exclaimed “Ask me for anything but time…”

Space was different.

Sometimes, all you had was time.

“Ask me for anything but good intelligence,” Eric said softly, humor in his tone though no one was there to hear it.

With all the time in the universe, what he wanted most was an understanding of what in the hell his enemy was up to.

The Empire was an anomaly in Eric’s view of the universe, though he was self aware enough to know that of the three examples he had to work from… He was the true anomaly, he, and the Earth.

The Priminae and the Empire were mirrors of one another, true, but that still meant that at a deep and fundamental level… they were very similar. Earth was the one that didn’t fit the narrative he was seeing in the galaxy at large, though… to be fair, Eric supposed that the Empire and the Priminae didn’t truly count as two examples… they were just two sides of the coin.

The Confederations and the Block, maybe? Eric chuckled at that thought.

There were parallels of course, but the divergence was less distinct… perhaps obviously. Maybe the Empire and the Priminae were what the Block and the Confederation would become, in a thousand years.

Now isn’t that a disturbing thought?

*****

Chapter Seventeen

Imperial Tower, World Kraike

Steph blinked.

She doesn’t mean…

He pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on the job, “Surely the Empire doesn’t need a small band of mercenaries for anything of real threat?”

“We significantly out mass them in terms of fleet tonnage, of course,” The Empress replied, “However, they have some… troublesome weapons, ones that we need more intelligence on. It is in that role I believe you might be of service.”

Holy shit, I think she does…

“We certainly wouldn’t be of much combat use in a straight fight against a foe that is giving the Empire issues,” Steph said slowly, his mind still whirring with the consternation he was feeling. “I made certain to include an Imperial Clause in my contracts for a reason. In addition to not wanting to have an Imperial Task Group hunting my people… there’s not much we could realistically do to one in the first place.”

That… wasn’t exactly the truth, with the Pulse Torpedoes they could unleash in a pinch, Steph was fairly certain that the Archangels could mangle pretty much anything out there, at least in the first few moments of a fight… they’d be running and gunning for their lives after that, of course, but still. However, he wasn’t about to admit to the existence of those weapons on his ships, and not just because it would blow his cover in a heartbeat.

Few were the governments that would be happy about potentially unfriendly Antimatter packing starships anywhere within a lightyear of their planet’s gravity well to be frank.

“Straight combat Is something the Empire can handle,” Jesan said stoically, his face a mask now… one that Steph had to focus on to peer beneath for even a glimpse of his thoughts.

Coming from the man who damn near beat us back to the stone age, I suppose he has a point.

“Then what would our role be?” Steph asked curiously.

His curiosity wasn’t faked in the slightest either, he honestly couldn’t wait to hear this.

“We require… provocateurs that do not connect back to the Empire,” the Empress told him. “Test them. Do not engage in pitched battle, but make them look for you, make them hunt. Show their strengths… there are… strange things about these people, unnatural things.”

Steph blinked, his focus readjusting to the Empress fully.

Unnatural? What is she referring to?

“Your Majesty?” Jesan asked, looking almost as confused as Steph.

“Helena managed to send back some… intriguing data before her ship was destroyed,” the Empress said simply. “Not enough to plot a counter assault, but enough to lead our investigations in a different direction.”

She turned to look more evenly at Steph, “We would also now be most interested in confirmed prisoners from this unknown group.”

Steph sat back, willing his expression to be calm.

That’s a shift from previous encounters. I didn’t think that the Empire did prisoners.

“I believe that could be arranged, if the opportunity presented itself of course,” he said slowly, leaning in, “What data would lead you to believe that something unnatural is involved?”

“That is classified for the moment, while we do our own investigation,” she said, her expression apologetic, though her tone was anything but.

Damn.

Steph just nodded, “I understand.”

What he wouldn’t do for a few minutes with their computers just then, but he supposed that there were a few things that the Terran vessels had that could qualify.

The Pulse torpedoes, maybe? Though I doubt that would only be showing up in a recent report, and I know that Jesan wouldn’t be surprised by them… None of our weapons tech should have gotten this response, if only because they would have seen them all in action a long time past… so what could it possibly… Oh.

There was really only one thing, if he were to discount the weapons technology they’d fielded against the Empire. Only one thing they had that would raise any sort of surprise.

They finally noticed the Transition drive. That must be it… but they don’t know what it is yet. Interesting.

He wasn’t certain, not by a long shot, but he was as close as he could get. He needed to get that bit of intel out of Imperial Space and back to Eric, ASAP.

“I see,” he said, though he expected that they doubted he did… he hoped he saw, at least. “We will need access to available intelligence, as much as you can declassify of course. I don’t want to lead my people into a completely unknown fight.”

“That can be arranged,” Emilia assured him.

“These are clever foes, Captain Teach,” Jesan spoke up. “Not as powerful as the Empire, but not to be underestimated in their own right. Do not fail Her Majesty.”

Steph forced a smile, “Fleet Commander, if I take a mission, I might not survive it, but that is the only way I will fail to complete it. My crews are professionals, and while I won’t pretend that we are in anyway superhuman, we don’t do failure as a rule.”

Jesan snorted softly, but sat back in silence.

Steph turned back to the Empress, “Your Majesty, I need to ask… why this level of interest? Prisoners… that’s not generally an Imperial tactic, I believe?”

“I wish to see them tested,” she said slowly. “Once… long ago, the Empire fought a war against… those who were not human, though they appeared as such. It caused a great schism in our people, one that exists even to this day… though most, like yourself, have long since forgotten it. Tell me Captain, I assume that you come from some polity within the Free Stars, yes?”

Steph nodded slowly, allowing cautious curiosity to be expressed on his face.

“Do you know the history of the so-called Free Stars?” She asked, smiling lightly.

“Recent history, certainly, military history going back some ways,” Steph lied through his teeth.

Honestly, while he’d done research on the general history of the region as part of his cover, each group he’d encountered had often wildly conflicting origin stories.

She laughed softly, holding up a hand, “Pardon, Captain, I do not laugh at you… it was, perhaps something of a trick question. The Empire wrote the histories of the region, many times over. The Free Stars were founded quite some time ago, by Imperial Colonists.”

Steph actually wasn’t certain how he was supposed to react to that.

Should I be surprised? I don’t remember anything like that in the records.

Not having anything else to lean on, he decided to say as much.

“I cannot say that I recall anything about that in the records,” he responded after a moment. “Though I suppose it isn’t entirely surprising. Were the original Colonists disaffected Imperial citizens, an official attempt at expansion? Criminals being exiled?”

She started to respond, stopping after a moment, “Not the third option, though it is an interesting idea. I can’t say that the Empire has ever done as much.”

“My people attempted it,” Steph said. “Once or twice. I suppose the solution worked well enough, though the resulting colonies were… unruly one might say.”

He’d spent time in Australia. All the pub crawls he’d done, most of them ended in a good fight. Unruly was a badge many he’d met down under would wear as an honor.

“I suppose they would be, interesting,” The Empress said thoughtfully before shaking her head. “But no, the Free Stars were a carefully organized colonial movement, nothing so crude as criminal exile.”

Steph nodded slowly, “I am curious then… what went wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing at all went wrong,” she told him with a smile. “All has progressed to plan.”

“I… see.”

He did no such thing, and it was clear that she knew it. However, Steph couldn’t think of anything else to say. The Empress enjoyed his obvious confusion, but opted not to elaborate.

“However, to the point I was making,” she said shortly. “There are humans, and there are… imposters. We warred with the imposters the last time, for longer than you can imagine. Worlds were wiped clean of all life, stars collapsed… the cost was great, but ultimately, we prevailed. The imposters were annihilated, as all such must be. I wish prisoners so that I can determine whether or not we have another group of Xeno masquerading as human.”

Steph risked a glance over to Jesan, wondering what he thought of this, and was surprised to find that the man looked utterly shellshocked as he sat there, rigid, and frozen in place like he’d seen a ghost.

The Fleet Commander doesn’t know what she’s talking about, or he’s blown away by the possibility in the first place… but… what is she talking about?

Steph had seen the DNA tests, both on Priminae and Imperials. They were human as human could…

Wait… no, something nagged at him, a fact he’d been briefed on but considered to be more of an oddity than anything else.

The Priminae and Imperials both had similar junk DNA in their makeup. Old remnants of the evolutionary line they’d followed. Terrans had plenty of it too, but it wasn’t the same according to the report.

He knew enough about evolution to discuss the subject moderately well, depending on who he was talking with, but Steph was well aware that most people didn’t… not really.

It was a common idea that humans evolved from apes, but that wasn’t the case. That was just the simplified version taught to children to get their minds wrapped around the concept. In truth, humans, AND apes both evolved from a progenitor species. It was a small differentiation to many people, but a profound one if you followed it to its logical… evolution.

The result of that was that humans and apes were essentially identical in almost all of their DNA, well over 98% if he recalled correctly, both having the DNA of their ancestor species… and that species ancestors, all the way down the line. Not all DNA was… active, however, and a lot just got… put into storage, for lack of a better term.

What use was the DNA to control a prehensile tail, for example, if your species had evolved the tail away? Yet it was still there.

The Priminae, Imperials, and Terrans all had junk DNA of that type… but while the Imperials and Priminae had identical junk DNA in their samples, Terrans… humans from Earth, did not.

It was parallel evolution despite different starting points, and Steph had vaguely been aware that it had caused an explosion in the scientific community on Earth, but his understanding of genetics and evolution hadn’t been remotely enough for him to follow those arguments.

Is that what she means? They wiped out another human species, just because it hadn’t evolved on their world.

Steph hoped his expression had been suitably stunned by the information, while deep inside what he was feeling was more akin to horror.

“I…” He stopped, trying to figure out what he should say, or ask. He couldn’t go direct to what he wanted to know, it might tip his hand, but at the same time… Steph needed that intelligence.

“I cannot say that I quite know how to react to that,” he finally said, honestly enough. “It sounds like something from a story told to scare children.”

The Empress smiled wanly, “It is, in my family at least.”

“How potentially dangerous would these prisoners be?” He asked finally. “If they’re not human… are they stronger than I might expect? Have abilities I might not be able to account for…?”

“No, nothing like that,” she smiled at him, like he was a child this time. “The abomination that they are is internal, it is their minds we must beware of. They do not think as we do, and thus they cannot ever be trusted.”

Well, that clears things up nicely… not.

“I see. I cannot say that I can promise prisoners, not without far more intelligence and, possibly, first had observations,” he said firmly. “But I can promise that we will make every effort to accommodate Her Majesty’s will.”

“Hmmm, an honest one, aren’t you?” she asked, shooting an amused glance toward Jesan. “He reminds me of you, Fleet Commander. Never promise until you are certain you can deliver…”

Jesan bowed his head, “A rule I broke. Once.”

“Indeed, but perhaps it was an understandable lapse,” she sighed, rising to her feet. “Fleet Commander, provide the captain here with the available intelligence he requires. Captain Teach, what will you require of the Empire in exchange for your services?”

Steph froze momentarily, his mind nearly blanking.

In all honesty, he’d entirely forgotten about the fact that he was playing the role of a Mercenary. The information he was acquiring was, by far and away, more valuable than anything he could ask for. He’d have done the mission for free… hell, he knew that he’d have paid for the job he was being offered…

But admitting that would be entirely out of character for the mercenary slash pirate he was pretending to be.

Swallowing, Steph started to speak, hoping to find the right words, when a voice from behind him and over his right shoulder smoothly cut him off.

“Operational costs for the squadron include consumables of the normal sort,” Gordon said easily. “Those can be paid in kind, if the Empire prefers, or through any manner of Imperial or Free Stars currency. It’s not… unusual for our clients to prefer to pay our fees in something that doesn’t, shall we say, advertise their involvement. I can provide the Fleet Commander with an itemized list, of course.”

“Of course,” The Empress looked at Gordon with thinly disguised amusement and disdain. “And above those costs?”

“Pay scales equivalent to Fleet Officers, times three for the crews, times five for the captain and his officers. We can negotiate bonuses for special operational successes at your leisure, or the Fleet Commanders if you prefer.” Gordon said, an almost alarming gleam of greed in his eye that made Steph even flinch away.

“I see.” the Empress didn’t appear taken aback, merely looking… satisfied with herself for some reason Steph didn’t understand. “I will leave that in… Lord Jesan’s capable hands then.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” Gordon said obsequiously without missing a beat.

The same could not be said for the Fleet Commander, Steph noted out of the corner of his eye.

The man looks like she just poleaxed him. I missed something. What the hell did I miss?

*****

With her Majesty gone from the room, Steph collapsed into himself without physically moving. The tension of dealing with someone who had the power to simply order him killed or, worse, keep him from his mission, had taken a toll. His head was now whirring with so much information that he felt more than a little nauseous actually now that he was relaxing his gut and no longer so tense, he could manage gee forces.

He tossed a wary glance to Jesan, who still looked stunned over the Empress’ parting words, “No disrespect to Her Majesty, but I am rather glad that we don’t have to negotiate with her. That’s a lady who genuinely frightens me.”

Jesan smiled thinly, a slight gleam of teeth visible, “You would not be alone in that. Her Majesty was raised by her father, before his death, like all her bloodline. They have been leading the Empire from before the records of history properly start.”

“I can see why,” Steph said, not entirely lying about that.

The Empress had… an aura about her, something he’d not often encountered… never encountered anything exactly like it, if he were being honest, but he’d seen close enough a time or two. Always from people he did not want to dick around with. Even Eric didn’t have that kind of presence, though Steph suspected that was as much because Eric actively worked to avoid it as anything else.

“You… look unwell, Fleet Commander,” Milla spoke up, for the first time, her muscles seemingly unclenching as well now that the Empress had left the room.

“It is nothing,” Jesan said. “Merely… Her Majesty’s parting comment was her way of… having fun with me.”

He let out a long breath and smiled, “Again, it is nothing. Come, we will discuss what services the Empire would have of you, and what you would have in exchange.”

“Of course,” Steph said, frowning. “Perhaps we should return to our ships, give Mr. Gordon here the opportunity to draw out the details you will need, while you determine what the Empire can and is willing to share with us about the mission?”

“Yes, that would seem wise,” Jesan admitted. “I will have my shuttle prepared.”

*****

Chapter Eighteen

NACS Odysseus

“We still can’t isolate the gravetic disturbances, Captain.”

Miram nodded, eyes flicking over to the telemetry on the big screen. The task group was deep in system now, falling on an almost ballistic course as they continued their scans. The track would take them in close to the primary and its closest planet, a Hot Jupiter world that had fallen close to the star at some point.

The combined gravity wells of the star and planet had resulted in some interesting exotic matter being created, which was all fine and dandy, but it also immensely complicated their analysis of the system while they were looking for enemy ships.

“Call out anything you see that seems strange,” She ordered. “Right now, I don’t care how unlikely you think it is to be important, call it out.”

There was a momentary silence before a young officer half turned, giving her an uncertain look before looking back to his own console.

“Ensign Jackman, out with it,” she ordered, having long since gotten a handle on when junior officers couldn’t decide whether or not to bother their commanding officer with something. Most of the time she’d let him puzzle it out on his own, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“Yes Ma’am,” The ensign, Simon Jackman, said hesitantly. “It’s just… the whole system is an anomaly, Ma’am.”

“What?” She looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“That world, the hot Jupiter?” he asked with a nod to the screen. “I’ve been tracking its orbit and there’s something… wrong.”

“Is it affected by the enemy?”

“No, I think it’s older than that, Ma’am. A lot older.” Jackman said, frowning. “It wasn’t fitting the predicted orbits for this planetary configuration, and I thought that might be due to the enemy vessels effects so I ran it through our system’s equations looking for what could have caused at orbit like this… whatever it was, it was either massively larger than the current anomaly we’re tracking, Ma’am, or it happened a couple thousand years ago, at least.”

Miram frowned, “I’m sure that’s very interesting, Ensign, but it doesn’t sound Germaine to the current situation.”

Jackman nodded, “Agreed Ma’am. The reason I brought it up is that… it looks intentional Ma’am.”

That caused her to hold up, pausing in mid step, and turn back slowly.

“Explain.”

“The gas giant’s orbit is degrading far faster than it should be,” Jackman explained. “We reverse engineered the orbital trajectory, again because we thought maybe something caused it to lose stability recently, but we found that it all tracks back properly. Around maybe two thousand years ago, this system was probably a stable planetary arrangement, not all that different from Earth’s own. Something caused the gas giant to lose orbital stability and effectively bulldoze its way through the inner solar system, destroying everything in its path. It’s the last world of at least five, judging from the debris fields… and it’s circling the drain and will likely plunge into the star within another thousand years. We ran the numbers, over and over, looking for what could have done it Ma’am, and there’s no natural phenomenon likely to have been the culprit. I can provide the calculations if it…”

She held up a hand, “I’ll take your word for it, Ensign. Interesting, very interesting. For now, shelve it. We have more prominent issues to concern ourselves with in the immediate future, but we’ll revisit this in it’s due time, thank you Ensign.”

“Yes Ma’am. You’re welcome, Ma’am.”

*****

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

Eric didn’t jump this time as Odysseus spoke up from behind him. He’d felt the entity appear, as it was wont to do, some seconds earlier.

“What is that?” he asked, not looking back.

“A discussion on the bridge just brought some of the feelings I’ve been getting about this system into focus,” Odysseus said calmly. “You might want to listen in, the relevant information begins five minutes, twenty-three seconds ago. Twenty-four. Twenty-Five…”

“I get it,” Eric glared, gesturing to bring up the monitoring sections for the bridge.

The Odysseus, and all Terran ships, had black box recorders that maintained full video recordings, as well as voice and text transcription backups, of everything said in key areas. The data was stored on a looping optical crystal medium, made from some of the most durable materials humans could construct. In the event of a catastrophic incident, it was supposed to be ejected away from the ship in the safest calculable direction for later retrieval.

Eric rather hoped the Odysseus’ black box was never used for its intended purpose, but in some cases, it was also useful for keeping the poor ignorant Commodore informed without interrupting the business of the ship at large. He found the time stamp Odysseus was directing him to and watched through the information quickly.

“Interesting isn’t the word I would use,” He growled a moment later. “Downright terrifying is closer to it.”

He did not like the implications of that conversation, and the only non-terrifying part of it was that they were talking about an event from a couple millennia in the past.

“It does, however, fit with what I’ve been feeling from the local gravity sources,” Odysseus said simply. “It’s been bothering me since we entered the range of this system… a sense of… wrongness. I cannot explain it better.”

“You don’t need to, I know the feeling… and I know how hard it is to explain to someone else when you get it,” Eric said. “Do you think they’re right about it being an intentional act?”

“Yes. I’ve run the simulation back farther than the analysts did,” Odysseus confirmed. “While there are some stellar phenomena that could certainly have caused this, it was rather like a professional billiards player striking the table, compared to a random hit from an amateur. This outcome, that we see here, was intended.”

Eric looked back to the planet they were slowly approaching.

It was, as listed, a Hot Jupiter. That meant that it was a large Gas Giant world, in this case a hair over one and a half times the mass of Jupiter itself, that was orbiting so close to the system primary that it was likely on the verge of igniting its own atmosphere. The exotic material the Priminae mined from this system was a direct result of that very combination of factors… gravity and heat literally shearing materials, tearing fluids apart and rebuilding them.

“Do you think the Priminae did it?” Eric asked.

“Unknown. The ones who currently exist don’t seem to have any institutional memory of such an act, nor any apparent inclination to repeat it for themselves,” Odysseus said. “However, we have little, if any, true data concerning the actions of their people more than a few dozen generations past.”

Eric grunted, but conceded the point.

The Priminae were a mystery to him, and one that only got deeper the more he learned. He couldn’t fathom a people quite so passive and unchanging as they purported to be, and actually were by all observable data… but… The Empire wasn’t much different, in their own way.

Alright, so he would never consider the Empire to be passive… that was an absurd thought, but their equipment, while moderately different from the Priminae, showed a very similar lack of innovation and change.

What the hell could put two such vastly different cultures as the Empire and the Priminae into what amounts to a multi millennia long… cultural stasis?

It didn’t make any damned sense.

That did seem to be the one constant in his life since taking command of the Odyssey, as best he could tell. Nothing made any damn sense any longer. When he had been a younger man, Eric had figured that he had a good grasp on the world around him. He knew how it worked, or so it felt. He didn’t always like how the world worked, but it made sense to him.

Illusion.

As he’d gotten older, and been exposed to more and more things in the world and, later, beyond it, Eric had come to realize that his common sense understanding of how things worked had been anything but and the more certain he was that something made sense, the more important it was to check himself and look closer.

The human brain was terrifyingly good at fooling itself into believing that it had a good handle on things… and there was little in the universe more dangerous than believing you understood what was going on when you really didn’t.

He now had that same feeling, the feeling of the rug being pulled out from underneath his feet, that he’d had when he first came to the conclusion that he really didn’t know what the hell was going on in the world and was just reacting to events like a pinball being bounced from target to target in a table.

“Being introduced to something truly new to you will do that, or so someone once said,” Odysseus spoke from behind him.

“Don’t sound so smug, brat,” Eric grumbled. “You may know more than me about, well most everything I guess if you have the time to pull thoughts from an expert, but that damn rug will get yanked out from under you too, someday.”

“Most likely,” The Entity agreed without rancor. “Localized Omniscience is no defense against the universe and its infinite variables. Without knowing every variable at play, it is impossible to truly understand…. anything.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Eric sighed, eyes falling back to the computer system. “Still… Someone intentionally bumped that planet off its orbit, and in the process annihilated… what was it, five?”

Odysseus nodded, “At least five worlds, judging by the debris. Three of which would have been rocky, so called ‘Earth type’ worlds, if that matters.”

Eric frowned, “Any way we could tell whether there were living things on them?”

“Perhaps, with an extended survey of the system, pull the debris apart and search for fossils?” Odysseus suggested. “The vast majority of any evidence of that nature, to prove or disprove, would have been annihilated during the impacts the gas giant caused….”

Odysseus trailed off, his head turning and stare at the bulkhead of the ship… or, rather, beyond it.

“Or perhaps not,” he said after a moment. “There may have been more than five worlds. Some of the anomalies I’ve been studying might be resolved if one or more of the planets in this system had been ejected from the system rather than being destroyed outright.”

“A rogue planet?” Eric cocked his head. “Traveling through deep space for a couple thousand years. Could we find it?”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to, which is to say he wasn’t sure whether there was any point in it. A wild goose chase looking for a planet that may or may not be there and, most likely would simply be this system’s version of Mars or Venus or something even if they did, well it would be massive waste of time and resources.

Part of him really wanted to, though, now that the idea had settled into his brain.

“Perhaps, however solving that will require collating more of the missing variables here, I am afraid,” Odysseus said, his tone almost sad. “A great deal of work, to be certain.”

“We’ll worry about it later.” Eric decided. “For now, we stay on task. We have an enemy out there, somewhere, and they’ve baited a trap such that we can’t rightly resist setting it off. Figure out what they’re up to. Everything else, well that can come later. Much later, probably, but that’s the way things tend to work.”

“Agreed. I will see what connections I can make and pass on to the crew,” Odysseus said. “It’s surprising how often humans see a solution where there is none, or miss it when it’s right in front of their faces.”

“No doubt, go on,” Eric nodded. “I have work to do.”

“Aye, Commodore.” Odysseus said, saluting with his fist over his chest, as he was wont to do.

Eric just smiled as the Entity faded, “Smart ass.”

He knew that the entity would have heard him, whether he was projecting in the room or not, but of course, he wouldn’t have called Odysseus that if he couldn’t hear him either.

Sighing, now that the distraction from the problem was passed, Eric turned back to the feeds.

Someone out there was playing games with his people, and forcing his hand to make certain those games went down. That was not something Eric was prepared to let pass.

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“Enemy task group has penetrated into the inner system, Ship’s Commander.”

“Understood,” Meld said, rising from his command station and making his way over to the scanner displays. He could have mirrored the information from where he had been, but when not in a crisis he preferred to get up and move.

The dedicated systems handled the data better than his own multi-use ones did anyway, so it was a bonus on top of getting to move his body around a little and work out the cramps.

The enemy ships were on course and following the schedule that they’d set sometime earlier, which was to say they were crawling down-well toward the star and the planet that were the focus of the system. However, they were now within the range he needed them to be.

Finally.

“Initiate the operation,” Meld ordered.

“Yes, Ship’s Commander!”

The crew on the command deck of the ship immediately jumped to work, Meld noted with some amusement. He didn’t blame them, of course. They’d all been sitting there for a seemingly interminable time, waiting for just the moment. It was good to finally get things moving, after all.

“Ignition protocols active! Command clearance required to engage, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld nodded and walked over, “Command Clearance granted, Authorized by Ship’s Commander Meld.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander. Authorization entered, and cleared. Ignition protocols are now active. We can fire it up on your signal.”

He nodded crisply, “Stand ready then.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Odysseus stiffened where he was, freezing in place for a nearly imperceptible moment in time as he tried to understand what it was that he’d just felt.

With barely a thought he appeared on the bridge of the ship, startling some of the officers but only gaining himself a sharp look from the captain.

“Odysseus,” Miram said firmly. “We’ve discussed this.”

“Apologies, Captain,” he said formally. “However, something… just happened.”

Her expression changed instantly, and she leaned slightly forward, “Something? What?”

“I don’t know. Look for a transmission in the upper bands,” he said, turning to the officer on Comm Watch. “I cannot quite determine what it is, but it is there.”

The officers glanced only briefly at the captain before nodding and performing the requested sweep of the frequencies the ship was routinely passing through.

“I think I see what… he is talking about,” The officer said after a moment. “Almost hidden in the background radiation of the local sun, but it’s definitely modulated.”

“Put it up,” Miram ordered.

“Analysis on screen, Skipper.”

The main viewscreen changed, showing the breakdown of the signal. Without better information they couldn’t tell whether it had audio, digital, or video data, but Miram could tell at a glance that it most certainly wasn’t a natural signal.

“When did this start?”

“Hard to say exactly, Ma’am,” The officer responded. “We passed through the signal a bit under three minutes ago, but there’s not enough data to determine range to origin, I’m afraid.”

So, it could have been broadcast from nearly anywhere in the system, Miram filled in automatically. Which means, as little as three minutes and change, to as much as almost sixteen hundred minutes. We need more data.

“Get the rest of the squadron on this. See if we can determine range through parallax.”

“Aye aye, Skipper, already on it. It’ll be a few moments if we get anything, that is.”

Miram masked her instinctive grimace, but she knew what the man meant.

If the range was close, they’d already have enough to get a bearing at least. If it was too far, the ships in the squadron wouldn’t be spread out enough to properly triangulate it. However, the odds were decent that if the signal was from the enemy, they were in the system, and if they were that close…

Well, we have a shot at this.

*****

Eric watched as the bridge turned from casual professionalism to near frenetic energy, some looking for the signal, others attempting to decipher it.

For himself, however, he was loading up his repeaters and looking at the squadron’s passive and active ranging systems, eyes seeking out any sign that the enemy was making a move.

If they’ve broken stealth, there’s a reason.

The Task Group was well within the inner system now, making it harder for the ship to properly deal with heat buildup, and now would be a good time to launch an assault he expected. With half their radiator panels inoperative because they were on the sunward side of the vessels, a fight would put them in a tight spot if it went on too long.

The Empire ships aren’t known for dragging a fight out. However, He considered as he kept looking through the data, trying to find the variable he was missing that would allow it all to make sense.

He knew it was there just as he knew he was missing it.

When something didn’t make sense, when the numbers didn’t add up, it was because you didn’t see all the variables at play. Ultimately, the numbers always add up, after all. There was no uncertainty in the universe, only in the perceptions of it.

So, he left Miram and the other Captains to the immediate situation, while he looked for what was coming.

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“Return is affirmative. Targets are entering the marked sector.”

Meld nodded, “Good. They’ll be unable to escape shortly, even if they knew what was coming. Trigger the ignition protocols.”

“On your order, Ship’s Commander.”

“So ordered.”

“Protocols active, and in play.”

Well, there’s no turning back now.

*****

Chapter Nineteen

Archangel One, Gaia’s Revenge, Orbit of Imperial World Kraike

“Holy shit, I never want to do that again.” Steph let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since they first went down to the world below, reaching behind his head to pull the neuro-scrambler off his neck. “And for the record, this fucking itches like a bitch.”

“It really does,” Gordon admitted as he removed his own. “But hopefully it worked.”

Steph looked at the device in his hand curiously, “What paranoid came up with this thing anyway?”

“Some egghead a couple decades ago, actually,” Gordon said. “From what I read it was designed to prevent machine-based mind reading, but the gear they were using at the time was never really all that good at getting anything useful from their subject’s heads so it was all shelved in some congressional reshuffling of the budget.”

“That much doesn’t surprise me,” Steph snorted. “CIA project?”

“Private lab, actually, public funding of course. Amounts to the same thing in the end, just easier to hide things from people if it’s not a government project,” Gordon admitted. “Plus, it’s easier to give tax money to a private company. For some reason people think that’s less sketchy than the government just running the research themselves.”

Steph rolled his eyes, rubbing at the back of his neck to get rid of the persistent sensation where the device had been affixed.

“Yeah, I know the type. Ok, so you get the same feel from that brief that I did?”

Gordon smiled slowly, “Oh yeah. The irony is palpable.”

Steph chuckled easily, “No kidding. Not how I expected things to go, but I’ll take it.”

Milla looked between the pair of them, frowning, “I do not see what is so amusing.”

“Really?” Gordon looked askance at her. “You don’t know what the Empire wants us to do?”

“Most likely they wish us to investigate ourselves, of course,” she said simply. “However, I am most concerned by the reasoning.”

Steph sobered a bit then, nodding.

“Agreed. That bit about imposters in human looking flesh, and her admission that the Empire had wiped out another species like that… I don’t like it. It’s a big problem.”

“I’m afraid I was lost a little there,” Gordon admitted. “As I recall, Terran, Priminae, and Imperial individuals all have human DNA, correct?”

“Mostly.” Steph said, “You didn’t keep up on the literature, I take it?”

“Genetics isn’t my thing,” Gordon admitted, thinking about it. “I do remember something about… different junk DNA? Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Steph nodded. “The common markers we use to determine what is human all match up, irrespective of our origins… however, we did not all evolve on the same world. If that’s what the Empire is looking for, then they’ll find it if they get their prisoners to experiment on. And the look in her eye when she was talking about that…”

Gordon hummed to himself, rubbing his chin as he thought back, “It was a little Jihadi, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pardon?” Milla asked, slipping back a little deeper into her accent. “What is Jihadi?”

“Holy war, the sort of war you care about nothing but winning,” Steph said soberly. “No rules, no quarter, no mercy.”

“The Empire has not much offered any of those thus far anyway,” Gordon grumbled a bit. “But it also means pulling out all the stops. Anything goes, and that includes the lives of your own soldiers and even people. For that kind of war, you don’t hold anything back. It’s not pleasant, for either side.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Alright, Gordon, as soon as the Fleet Commander gets us the declassified material, we’ll confirm what we’re looking at,” Steph said. “We’ll do our planning from there.”

“You’ve got it,” Gordon idly tossed the neuro-disrupter in the palm of his hand a couple times, “All things considered, I think we did ok today.”

“I hope so.”

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Jesan sat in his personal office, staring at the wall as he thought about the Empress’ parting words. Part of him desperately wanted to contact Her Majesty, ask whether she’d let slip intentionally or not, or was she torturing him?

Cruelty wasn’t something he knew her to employ casually. Generally, the girl he’d met and known as she grew up was a good sort in personal affairs. When it came to Imperial business, however, she could be as sharp as any blade and as cruel as anyone he’d ever known. It wasn’t like her to torment him with his previous position like that.

Did she mean…?

It took a wrenching force of personal willpower to refocus his attention on the task at hand, which meant pulling all the Imperial Data he could on the anomalous species… if he couldn’t access it, then he supposed it was safe to assume that it wasn’t to be made available to mercenaries either, and begin formulating it into a briefing for Captain Teach and his fellows.

For the most part it wasn’t a terribly difficult task, very little of the data they had was anything that the Empire felt a need to maintain any secrecy over after all. What did it matter to them if details of their enemy became common knowledge? There were bits of intelligence that they would prefer stayed… quiet, however.

The enemy superweapon, for one.

Jesan still couldn’t entirely shake the dread that even thinking about that brought to him. Watching his ships flare and burn like tinder in a flame… it was a terrible memory to carry. More so what had been done to the Imperial shipyards in the outer systems, for that matter.

No, it would not do for that to become common knowledge. The Empire still has enemies, weak though most are, and giving them the idea to go seeking out the anomalous species would be… a poor strategic choice.

He rather doubted that the mercenaries had any need for that intelligence anyway. If they managed to push the enemy hard enough that they were willing to use their superweapons, then Jesan had very much underestimated Teach and his fellows, and overestimated the enemy by at least as much.

A lesson in the proper application of strategic weapons indeed.

The face of the man who’d give the order to unleash that weapon, and then calmly threatened to put the entire Empire to the torch if he didn’t back down… Jesan would not ever forget that face, or that voice. In many years of service, he had rarely heard his enemy’s voice across the space that lasers would, or had, been flying. Of those times that he did, it was normally after the battle was over, and the enemy was pleading for his life.

Jesan had ignored those calls every time. It was not his place to grant mercy, and if the Empress or Emperor had wished such… they would have told him before the battle began.

Speaking with the enemy was, rather strictly against Imperial protocol actually. The only reason he had done so was the utter impossibility of what he’d seen that day. It had shaken him, both personally and professionally.

It was a moment in his life that he doubted he would ever be able to reconcile. The doubts and second guessing had haunted him since he made the decision to fall back from the front line and take his forces with him. In his younger days, Jesan knew that he wouldn’t have stopped the assault.

Of course, when I was younger, I wasn’t a Fleet Commander.

As he had many times before, and no doubt would many times again, Jesan pushed the thoughts and doubts away, putting himself back to the task the Empress had set for him. He had his duties, and regrets had no place in them.

The initial briefing package was ready, so he queued that for delivery to Teach as he set about preparing the more in-depth one that would serve as the final part of the deal the Empire was brokering with the mercenaries.

Strange times to live in.

*****

Archangel One

“Transmission from the Imperial flagship, skipper,” Tyke said as he pulled himself up out of the gunboat’s control deck. “Big file, boss.”

“Expecting it,” Steph said, shaking his head. “If it’s what I think… well, expect to hear some laughing and cursing in the next little while.”

“So, I want to know, Boss?”

“Want? Couldn’t say, but you probably need to know,” Steph said. “Looks like the job the Empire is hiring us on for… is to investigate ourselves.”

Tyke just stared, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I honestly wish I was, mostly.” Steph sighed. “It’s going to be a pain in the ass, trying to keep our cover if I’m right, but as part of the deal we’re getting what should be a fairly comprehensive intelligence report on our ‘target’, which is probably worth the hassle.”

“You and the big man always had the luck of the Irish… and a fair number of their curses too, now that I think about it,” Tyke snorted.

“Tell me about it. Gordon and I will be reviewing the data, getting ready for final negotiations, but if everything goes well, then we’ll be on our way back toward Priminae space in short order. Might even be able to swing some time back home, depending on how things work out.”

“Be good to get a proper shore leave,” Tyke mused. “I know we all signed on for an extended run, but if the opportunity presents and all?”

Steph nodded, agreeing with his old friend.

Everyone in the squadron had signed up for what they knew could easily be a multi-year tour away from home, knowing that they’d get downtime as it came and a lot of it would probably be little more than a few days off duty in their rooms, spending leisure time in a VR sim. Not exactly something you could call real relaxation, so if they had a chance, he’d take it in a heartbeat.

There were risks, though, and he wasn’t sure that he really dared take the Archangels back into Sol’s influence until the mission was officially over.

The Empire knows where Earth is. We’d be idiots to assume that they’re not monitoring it to some degree.

There was a reason that the Archangels had been developed in secret from the start, and it wasn’t hiding the tech from the Bloc… not that time anyway.

“If the chance comes up, I’ll see what can be arranged,” was all he was willing to promise at the moment. “I’ll be in my office. Ping Gordon and let him know too, would you?”

“You got it, Mini-Boss,” Tyke said with a grin, causing Steph to roll his eyes.

“Ugh. You and the others are broken records.”

*****

Steph already had the file open when Gordon knocked on the door to the cramped office space.

“Come on in,” he called, not looking up as the Company Man squeezed in between the door and the chair that sat opposite him at the desk.

Seamus Gordon dropped easily into the seat and looked across the desk, his expression filled with expectation.

“What does it look like?”

“Worse than I’d hoped, but better than I feared,” Steph admitted, hitting a control, and lighting up the holographic display in the desk so that Gordon could see the details he was looking at. “Our suspicions were dead on. The Empire is looking for cut-outs to help them deal with… well, Us.”

“Amusing, but also fairly disturbing,” Gordon acknowledged absently as he began looking at the data. “What do they know about us?”

“Us in the immediate sense, nothing as best I can tell, but that really goes without saying,” Steph said. “They’d roast us in a heartbeat, this close to one of their fleets and in their capitol system… us in the wider sense? Quite a lot. I’ve got ship counts, tonnage, split between our forces and the Priminae, reasonably accurate too. Location of Earth is a given, but they’re also tracking the civilian shipping that has begun moving out from Earth.”

“That’s a problem,” Gordon frowned. “We knew they knew about Earth of course, but tracking our civilian shipping is a problem that will bite us in the future.”

“No kidding. It’s not much now, but it’s growing fast, and based on what her worshipfulness implicated, I don’t want to see what the Empire does if they think we’re growing too quickly,” Steph sighed.

“That too,” Gordon nodded. “Ok, we can relay that during the next Intel handoff. It’s going to mean some serious changes to procedure back home, though.”

“Can we do anything to stop it?” Steph asked seriously. “Short of giving the civilian shipping their own Transition drives, it’s pretty difficult to keep them from being followed. Space is damn big when you don’t have any real strategic points to guard.”

“No chance we hand over Transition technology to anyone, let alone civilians, it’s bad enough that the Priminae have it now,” Gordon grimaced.

He, and pretty much the whole of the Intelligence community had been aghast at the Admiral’s decision to trade that technology for ships, no matter how necessary it might have been. It wasn’t that she was wrong; there was no use in keeping secrets if everyone those secrets protected were dead, after all… but it was still an intel leak like nothing that ever happened before.

“The more people using that tech, the faster the likelihood of it being figured out by the enemy reaches one,” he said firmly. “And that’s ignoring the weapons potential of it all.”

“Huh. Yeah… I wonder…” Steph trailed off.

“What?”

“Nothing important right now, but I was just thinking about the T-Cannons,” Steph mused. “I wonder if they’d scale up?”

“To what?”

“Star Gates.”

Gordon stared for a moment before he snorted, “You don’t do small, do you? Well, that’s for both the eggheads and the future. For now, we need to deal with this.”

“Right. Ok, let’s get ready for negotiations.”

The pair nodded in agreement and got back to work, analyzing the data the Empire had sent them… about themselves.

It was a surreal planning session, one of the top three… no… five oddest in Steph’s experience. Idly he wondered how it ranked for Gordon, but opted not to ask. He wasn’t sure if it would make him feel better or worse to find out whether the universe was crazy, or if it was just him and Eric.

Some questions were best unasked.

You might get an answer, after all.

*****

Imperial Tower

Emilia once more found herself staring out over the capitol city of the Empire, her thoughts deeply entwined with her actions of the day.

The Free Stars pirate had been… unusual, she supposed that was the best word she could use to describe the man and his companions. The woman had clearly had a problem with the Empire, not unusual in her experience, even as sheltered as she was from much of the Empire in general. She was under no illusions that the Empire’s actions were universally seen as beneficent, even within the Empire itself.

What she did, what her family did, was what they had always done. Shepherd the Empire for the future of humanity. Unfortunately, that often meant that individual humans got culled from the herd, whether it was deserved or not.

The captain… that was an odd word, actually. She’d had to go look it up after Jesan had sent her the introductory brief on the man. An old word that had long since been replaced by Ship’s Commander in the Imperial Lexicon, with a history that might actually predate the Empire itself.

Curious. I do wonder why this… Teach’s people would have opted to begin using such an archaic term, but no matter.

Teach himself was a type of which she had become used to dealing with. Emilia knew a professional soldier when she met one. She’d hardly be much use at her task if she weren’t able to manage that most basic of pattern recognition after all the experience she’d had.

He was young, of course, with an irreverence he’d clearly been holding back through force of will in her presence.

Unfortunate. I rather would have liked to see him in his natural state, I think.

So many held back in her presence, as he had. It was expected, of course, and even desired for the most part. The Empress could not be approachable, it was part of her duties. Standing on a pedestal, above all others, less than a person… but more than leader. A symbol.

Being a symbol was not often pleasant, but it was necessary.

She felt her father’s presence in the room before he spoke this time, and waited to see what he wanted, but after several long moments found that he’d still said nothing.

“You are… unusually quiet, father. Does something concern you?” She asked, looking in his direction.

He too was looking out over the view of the city, so far below and extending out around them.

“No,” he said after a while. “I am merely thinking about your recent visitors.”

“The pirates?” she asked, an amused smile gracing her lips. “They were not precisely as expected, but I suppose that is likely because their persona is faked, of course.”

“Indeed.” He rumbled softly.

The fact that Teach and his people had clearly been fielded by some polity, almost certainly one of the weaker Free Star states, wasn’t exactly a secret. Mercenaries and pirates didn’t act as this group did, though from what she’d heard they could put on a show that would fool most observers, casual and otherwise, during their actions at least.

It was much harder to hide their true nature outside of battle, during talks, however.

“You have a problem with them?” she asked carefully.

If her father had issues with them, she would certainly have to act on it. Emilia had learned a long while ago that his instincts with people were all but unmatched. It was still a wonder to her just how magical his ability seemed to be by times.

“I… do not know.” he admitted.

Emilia turned and stared, shocked at that admission. She’d not heard those words from him in… a very long time indeed.

“Do not be so surprised, daughter,” he smiled warmly. “I am not infallible, as much as I may put that image forward… as you too must, remember.”

Hesitantly she nodded, remembering that lesson.

“Some people are harder to read than others, it is unusual perhaps, but of no serious import at the moment,” he told her. “You did well at the meeting.”

“Thank you,” she said, still quietly wondering at the admission from her father. “It was not difficult.”

“You did better than I could have, I believe. The Empire’s future is well served by its current Empress. I am proud of you, daughter.”

Emilia beamed widely; her shock forgotten in an instant.

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Chapter Twenty

NACS Odysseus

The tensions had continued to rise as they penetrated deeper into the system, with the entire squadron coordinating their search such as to scan as much of the alien sky as they could, but it was a losing battle as Eric had known it would be even when he gave the order.

There was too much space to cover, and just not enough time. If the enemy wasn’t hiding near the strategic asset, in this case the Hot Jupiter they were approaching, then they just wouldn’t see them until they decided to make themselves known.

The anomalous signals had continued even as they descended, however, so he knew that they were there.

It’s just a question of where there is now, Eric thought grimly as he looked over the data from the Boudicca and the other vessels in the group, running overlays to ensure that no one had spotted anything that stood out.

Miram was handling the ship as well as anyone could, himself included, and the other captains had their own vessels well in hand, which had left him feeling a little superfluous in the current situation. When everyone was doing their jobs well, and nothing had gone wrong from outside sources, he really didn’t need to be there…

Most of the time, he was happy with that. Right now, however, when he knew that there was a threat out there… it was like an itch he couldn’t reach, and Eric was beginning to feel like he was going to lose his mind if something didn’t scratch it in a good damned hurry.

Below him, on the Command deck, the senior crew had returned from their split shift breaks, fresh as could be expected and back on the job. It felt insane, still, to actually have people go off duty and even get some sleep in the middle of an approach like this, but the distances involved made it a necessity.

We’ve been falling for over a day now, with tensions high the entire time. It’s a miracle that my people don’t just flip out regularly as it is.

Of course, he’d actually taken a coffee break in the middle of a pitched battle with genocidal aliens once…

Space was surreal.

“Captain. We have something…”

The voice had filtered up from the Command deck to the overlook of the Flag deck where he was standing, causing Eric to shift his focus even as Miram crossed the deck in just a few short, swift, steps.

“What is it, Buckler?” she asked the man at the scanning console.

“New gravity source, we’ve got a spike showing from our optical atomic clocks, Ma’am. We’re showing a time dilation effect across the hull of the Odyssey we can’t account for.”

“Pinpoint it,” Miram ordered.

“Aye Ma’am.”

Eric frowned, quickly bringing up the data himself, and cross referencing it across the squadron a heartbeat before Buckler called up the same data.

He’s right, Eric noted.

Gravity or, rather, the warping of spacetime caused by mass that humans referred to as gravity, distorted time. As you got closer to the center of mass, time was warped more and more. With clocks that were accurate enough, you could even detect the dilation effect across relatively short spaces.

The clocks built into the Odysseus and other Heroic Class vessels were among the most accurate ever put into mass production, though ‘mass’ was a bit of a subjective term there. A few thousand were made, enough for a few dozen per ship, mounted all across the hulls, just inside the armor plating.

They recorded time in quadrillions of a second.

When a ship entered into a gravity well, or passed through a gravity wave, the clocks would report time slightly out of sync with one another. A single quadrillionth of a second across the hull of the ship could be detected, plotted, and ultimately triangulated… if the source could be isolated.

That last part was, of course, the hardest to accomplish. Most of the time, gravity sources were just a mixed-up mess of every chunk of mass twisting space within their range.

However, they had a good baseline by this point, just from looking for the enemy so damn long, and a new spike? That could be isolated with relative ease.

Eric had the vectors a few seconds before the officer managed, but even so he was beaten to understanding them by the navigation specialist below him.

“Primary source of the spike is the Hot Jupiter, Ma’am.”

That doesn’t make sense, Eric frowned, but a moment later he’d confirmed exactly what the officer had reported. What the hell? Mass doesn’t just appear from nowhere; we’ve been watching that planet the entire descent!

“Confirm!” Miram snapped.

“Confirmed Ma’am. The gas giant is the source.”

Eric didn’t like it. He didn’t like anything he couldn’t explain at the best of times, let alone when he was leading a task group into what he’d believed to be a likely trap in the first place.

Mass can’t be created, so that planet did not just become more massive, he thought quickly, mind running through the possibility.

It only took a few seconds longer than he believed it should have for him to catch on.

Mass can’t be created, but there are other ways to twist spacetime. We do it all the time.

“Captain,” he said, hand pressing down the speaker controls before he’d even thought about it, “There are ways to manipulate spacetime without adding mass. Go active.”

Miram half twisted, looking back in his direction briefly, before she nodded.

“Aye Commodore! All stations, General Quarters. All breaks are rescinded. If you’re not on duty or part of the backup crews, report to safe shelters immediately. Lieutenant Grish, full active scans on all FTL pulse systems.”

“Aye aye Ma’am. Going full active on all pulse systems!”

Eric relayed the order to the rest of the ships even as the Odysseus went to war.

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“Active scans, Ship’s Commander!”

I suppose it was inevitable that they’d notice, Meld thought to himself as he began checking the data. Bit quicker than expected, however.

After a brief examination of the situation, he didn’t believe that it would have much of an effect on the outcome. The enemy fleet was deep within the radius of effect, and in short order they would have far greater problems to deal with than his ships.

“Power to the drives,” he ordered. “It’s time to leave.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

“Signal the others in the Division. As soon as the Fershaw meets with them we’ll be quitting the system.”

With that order given, Meld returned his focus to the event happening so much deeper within the well.

Now let’s see how you handle this. The Eighth will be avenged.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Odysseus scowled as he examined the data pouring through the minds of the crew, comparing it to what he was feeling through his own senses.

There was a distinct pull now, toward the planet that was spinning rapidly around its local star, far more than there should be. All mass had been accounted for within the star and planet up until a few moments earlier, and that went against all the laws of the universe.

The Entity was almost ready to curse from the frustration of it, something he’d never done before actually but it sounded fun, until a stray thought in the Commodore’s mind suddenly galvanized the man and he had issued his order to go active even before Odysseus had count up to the concept.

Of course, they don’t need mass to manipulate spacetime. I do it myself. Odysseus berated himself for forgetting the effects of the warp drives and what they could do to the universe around them.

In part it was the mass of the core, of course, but that was only a small portion of the end effect. Warp fields could twist space into a depression, much like mass did, which would create a gravity well… but they could also do the opposite, albeit with massively more difficulty.

Is that what is happening? And if so, to what end?

His first inclination, based on the spike he was feeling, was that the enemy had opted to attempt collapsing the Star… the spike was sharp and powerful, but after a moment’s consideration he decided that it simply didn’t have the power.

He knew that whatever the goal, however, it would not be good for the task group.

Odysseus vanished in a moment, redirecting his projection and, with it, his primary focus to the Admiralty Deck.

*****

Eric didn’t even look around as Odysseus appeared.

“Not the time, son,” he said. “Little busy.”

“I understand,” Odysseus said. “I have determined that the gravity spike is centered on the system primary. However, I am uncertain as to what its intended to do.”

Eric glanced back, “You’re quick. I just got that info myself. It looks like it destabilized the orbit of the Hot Jupiter, which is a big problem, though I suspect that’s just a bonus to the enemy. We still haven’t located them, unfortunately.”

Odysseus nodded, mind still examining his own feelings and comparing them with the ship’s crew and scanners.

“The planet will drop within the star’s Corona within a few more days. However, it will be close enough to reach the auto-ignition point of its atmosphere much sooner…”

“How much sooner?” Eric twisted.

“Look.”

Eric turned back to the screen, something catching his eye. He enhanced the image, pushing in closer to the funnel of plasma that had connected the gas giant to the primary. The plasma was too hot to burn in close to the sun, but it did hit auto-ignition temperature at a mid point for a short time. The speed of the flow had kept the flames in place, burning in that happy medium between where it wasn’t hot enough to ignite and where the temperature was too high for fire in the classic sense of the word.

That mid point was moving.

The burning plasma was backing along the funnel, moving back to the planet at a visible rate, which was slightly terrifying given the sheer distances involved.

Eric didn’t know what was going to happen when the planet ignited, but he really didn’t care to find out. He hit the comms, opening a fleet wide link, only to be assaulted by interference static loud enough to make him cringe.

“Radio channels are being disrupted by the event,” Odysseus said dispassionately.

“This is Weston,” Eric ordered, linking directly to the comm officer on the Bridge. “Give me a Whiskers link to all ships in the squadron.”

“Aye Commodore.”

The laser link ‘whiskers’ system was essentially jam proof, but required active tracking for each link added and could be problematic at the ranges involved for even orbital travel, let alone interplanetary work as they were currently involved in, so they were not setup by default.

“Connections established, Commodore.”

Eric didn’t bother acknowledging the statement, he was too focused.

“All ships, this is Weston. Calculate least time evasion and engage at best thrust,” he ordered. “I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I don’t want to be here to find out in person. Weston out.”

He shifted his focus, linking down to the labs instead of the bridge directly.

“Weston here. I need to know how fast the orbit of the gas giant is destabilizing.”

“Very quickly, Sir,” Doctor Javits, their exo-stellar physicist responded, “We project three days at most before the two bodies collide, but…”

“We’ll be long gone before three days, Doctor.”

“The collision isn’t the problem, Commodore. The gas giant is almost at the Roche Limit now.”

Weston blinked, trying to scrape his brain to remember the term. It meant something to him, but he couldn’t place it.

“Speak to me like I don’t have a clue what that means, Doctor.”

“The Roche Limit is a variable point in space between two massive objects, at which the tidal forces of gravity will exceed the structural integrity of the weaker body. In this case, the Gas Giant. Look to the screen I’m mirroring to you, Sir.”

Eric turned as a previously dark screen came to life, showing the image he had been observing earlier.

“I have that on my screens already, Doctor.”

“Keep watching, the orbit is speeding up.”

As he watched, the gas giant continued on its already frenetic path around the star, the orbit actually accelerating as he watched it.

“I don’t…”

Then he saw it.

“The planet is… It’s changing shape.”

It had already been significantly oblong when they arrived in the system. Now, it was a definitely egg shaped and seemed to be changing… again even as he watched.

Events of this magnitude should never be so casually visible to human perception, not to his mind at least.

“The enemy destroyed a planet,” he shook his head. “Why?”

“Sir, it’s more than a planet. That gas giant was very much a proto-star, just not quite reaching the mass it needed to self ignite and turn this system into a binary one. It’s about to ignite, just before it gets shredded and flung around the system like shrapnel. We need to leave.”

“Order has already been given for a least time withdrawal, Doctor. We’re leaving even as we speak.”

“Thank God.” The relief in Javit’s voice was palpable. “Our shielding wouldn’t survive a fraction of that force. I don’t think even the Forge cou… wait, did you say least time?”

“Of course, Doctor. If we need to get out, it needs to be as fast as possible.”

“No, no no no! Sir, a least time course uses the gravity of the star to sling us out of the system. We won’t make it!”

“Reversing course will take too long, even with the warp drive active Doctor! And there’s no stable LaGrange points even if I were inclined to attempt a Transition. We’d be scattered across half the galactic plane if we tried.”

Eric was doing his best not to show the rising tension he was feeling. Shouting at people in a crisis could be useful but most of the time it was just going to slow you down when you needed every second you could get.

“When the planet ignites and loses stability, the force of the explosion is going to be thrown out along the plane of the gas giant’s orbit. Sir, if a tree is falling on you, do you run away from the tree?”

“No… you dodge to the side. I understand, Weston out.”

Eric shifted focus, sending orders to start calculating a new evasive course even as he was opening up the communications lines between the task group.

“New orders for maneuver incoming,” he said in clipped tones. “Least time evasion insufficient. Maximum acceleration off the orbital plane of the planet is required. Retransmit to all ships.”

He had that last bit just in case any of the squadron wasn’t properly linked in with the Whiskers laser system, hoping that a little redundancy would give everyone the best possible chance at evasion. Over his shoulder, Eric could feel the presence of Odysseus still projecting behind him.

“Have any thoughts?” he asked, glancing back.

“Doctor Javit is correct. I’ve run the numbers eight times now,” Odysseus responded. “No permutation of a least time evasion results in our survival.”

“And the current strategy?”

“Still running those numbers, Commodore,” The entity said curtly, showing little of the normal personable elements he generally put forth. “It is not looking good.”

“Damn it.” Eric scowled, wanting to hit something. “I knew it was trap, and I still sailed right into it.”

He’d been counting on outguessing the enemy, as he’d done so many times before. Baffling them with bullshit and brilliance in as much of a mix as he could manage.

Seems like they got sick of that happening, He thought bitterly. No one ever got very far trying to outthink a bomb. Fuck.

Some lessons in battle were too expensive, by the time you learned them… well, they were the last thing you ever learned.

Eric hoped this wasn’t one of those.

“Keep running the numbers,” he ordered, then copied and sent much the same on to the specialists within the ship’s labs. “I want our best odds, and I want them now.”

“Yes, Commodore,” Odysseus replied dutifully. “Best current odds of escaping the conflagration are to skew positive seventy-three degrees to the orbital plane of the Hot Jupiter, acceleration must be at maximum military power.”

“Understood,” Eric said, opening a channel to the other ships and sending the order.

He’d make adjustments when the analysis came back, assuming they had time then, but for now inaction was by far and away worse than doing the wrong thing.

*****

Odysseus Command Deck

Miram looked over the telemetry that was building from the planet as she echoed the Commodore’s orders and called for Full Military Power.

That’s going to put us up in drydock for a while when this is over, she winced slightly.

They’d literally spend less time in repairs if they got shot up than what was waiting for them from overstressing the drives, but that was the nature of the massive accelerations they were about to impart to the vessel.

She could already feel it building through the deck plates, a hum that didn’t feel natural or comforting as the normal response of the ship tended to be.

“Acceleration approaching one thousand gravities, Captain.”

“Push it harder, Lieutenant,” she ordered the young officer handling the helm. “Ensign Dixon, monitor and inform me if any of the task group drop out of formation.”

“Aye skipper.”

She didn’t know what the projections were for the event, but given the confused shift in orders, Miram was pretty certain that not one bit of it was good.

She reached out a hand, once she was certain that they were on the new course and accelerating according to orders, and got a hold of the Commodore.

“Sir, what is going on?” Miram demanded more than asked, her tension visible in her expression and clearly audible in her voice.

“The enemy laid a trap, Captain. Details to your console as you have the time you can read them, for now stay on course,” Weston ordered. “Expect adjustments to be forthcoming as we get better analysis of the data.”

“Aye Sir.”

The connection ended after that, leaving her unhappily pulling the movable console in front of her in order to access the detailed intelligence that had been sent there. She knew that something bad had happened, when an entire planet visibly changes shape while you’re watching, you can safely assume something rather bad is happening.

She hadn’t been entirely prepared for just how bad, however.

Oh lord, the blast radius of this is… obscene.

Not that she knew what else she might have been expecting, as she thought about it.

Who the hell uses a planet as bait for a… bomb? Is it a bomb?

Miram honestly didn’t know what the hell to call it, other than not good.

“Push the drives past the redline, gentlemen,” She called. “We’re not out of the blast zone yet!”

*****

Chapter Twenty One

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

Jesan nodded curtly as Captain Teach and the man he said was his ‘purser’ entered the room where he was waiting for them.

“Welcome,” he said, gesturing to the two men, noting that they’d left behind the young lady this time. Interesting.

He, like the Empress, had noted her antipathy toward the Empire, but it was something they saw more often than not with non-Imperial citizens, and so Jesan was largely inclined to ignore it until and unless she did something to irritate him.

Leaving her behind, however, left a certain message in the open. One that he had to wonder about the exact contents of.

Are they attempting to avoid overly irritating me, or do they think she might do something truly problematic?

In either event it mattered little, so long as they kept her under control… which she did appear to be. It was no concern of his. Hating the Empire was not a crime. Rather, it was an intended consequence of many actions he’d taken. There was little point in coming down on someone for doing exactly what you wanted them to in the first place.

It would be counter productive, after all.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” Teach said, smiling in his direction as he took a seat. “We’ve had time to review the data you sent, and believe that we can be of some service.”

Jesan nodded, pleased by that, but Teach was not finished.

“I will say, there is little to no chance that we’ll be of much help when it comes to a military action, of course,” The pirate Captain shrugged. “The enemy you show in this data could quite clearly annihilate my little squadron with little effort.”

“I expected no less,” Jesan admitted. “However, recordings of your interactions, any intelligence you might be able to provide… and… distractions.”

“Yes,” Teach nodded. “The last is both the most potentially profitable, but also the highest risk.”

“Oh? How so?” Jesan asked curiously.

*****

Steph looked at the Imperial Commander evenly for a moment, wondering if the question was a test or whether he really didn’t see the obvious there.

Possibly a bit of both, Steph decided after a moment.

He wasn’t lying when he said that running distractions would be the most potentially profitable and risky… he just meant it in a different way than the enemy Commander would have assumed.

“For a distraction to be effective,” he began, “It would require careful coordination. Both for us to know when to mount such a mission, and where, but also such that the Empire could take the best advantage of it. That would likely mean sharing more with us concerning your ongoing fleet movements…”

Steph let the moment drag on, silence following his words, as the Fleet Commander considered them.

“Ah, yes I see what you are referring to there,” Jesan said after a moment. “If you are aware of our movements and your vessels are captured… well, it goes without saying.”

“Precisely,” Steph nodded. “But if we don’t know, then there’s every chance that our best distraction might well accidentally point eyes in a direction you don’t want them looking.”

“I see, yes. Very well, I will put that question to the Empress, through her advisors of course.”

Jesan added the last bit perfunctorily, not wanting to imply that the Empress would be hastily responding to anything he sent her direction. It would not do to have such misperceptions floating around, especially if it got back to Her Majesty’s hearing.

She might merely laugh it off, but if she did not…

He shuddered.

That was a level of attention that any officer would do well to avoid.

“Of course,” Steph said, putting as much understanding into his voice as he could.

Honestly, he even did understand the other man’s point. There were more than a few admirals he’d rather not gain the attention of. The one he’d had was more than bad enough to his way of thinking.

“We have an agreement, then?” Jesan asked.

“In principle, yes,” Steph said confidently as he could manage. “Mr. Gordon here has prepared a list of our costs, including the projected ones for each scenario listed. They may or may not hold true if we are forced into combat, of course…”

He shrugged, gaining a chuckle and a nod from the other man.

“Those who can predict the outcome of combat are truly gifted,” Jesan responded, eyes shifting over to the other man as he handed over an Imperial data plaque, which Jesan accepted.

“Or cursed,” Steph shrugged. “Sometimes, though, I wonder if those are not the same thing.”

“I do not believe I could easily argue with that, if I were being terribly honest,” Jesan admitted as he began to peruse the notes.

The costs were reasonable from what he could tell; perhaps too much so for the supposed pirates they were supposed to be, though Jesan was under no illusion that anyone on either side believed that particular story had fooled anyone.

“I see nothing objectionable here,” he said finally. “Have you had time to review the intelligence I cleared for you?”

Steph nodded, trying not to show his own feelings about being briefed on the disposition of his own side. The whole situation was surreal to say the least, but that was the job sometimes.

“Yes, an interesting bunch,” He said. “And most certainly beyond our combat capabilities. I would not want to place my ships up against their negative matter devices alone.”

Jesan snorted, “You would not be alone in that, I assure you. Those were an… unpleasant surprise. The very idea that any people would be sufficiently insane as to house negative matter within the hull of their own ship is… I honestly have no words for it.”

Well, Steph thought dryly, He isn’t wrong there.

Anti-matter was a perpetual nightmare, especially for those who understood it. Many of his shipmates barely grasped the concept, if he were being honest about it, and only saw the material as just one more explosive.

It wasn’t.

There was a reason why antimatter was not stored for any length of time, after all. It was made, and fired, as quickly as possible.

Magnetic containment in a vacuum compartment was all fine and well, until the ship maneuvered slightly faster than the magnetic fields could compensate for, or the fields failed, or a stray atom impacted and reacted with the antimatter and happened to provide enough kick to violate containment, or any of a thousand other unlikely but nightmarish scenarios.

“That too,” Steph said, stone faced. “People willing to live with that on board their own ship are unlikely to be afraid of much else.”

Steph wasn’t above a little misdirection, or flat out lying to boost the reputations of his fellows, after all.

“Indeed. Death seems to hold little fear for their military, at least,” Jesan said. “However, the key information we desire from you would not require combat.”

Steph met Jesan’s gaze for a long moment, considering that carefully.

“The superweapon,” he said finally.

“Indeed. Its location would be ideal, of course, but anything concerning its operation would be of immense value to the Empire.”

I’ll bet it would.

Steph wasn’t going to give the Empire squat about Prometheus, or the Star Shot. That went without question of course, but he could see why the Empire would want that intel, and desperately at that.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Steph said. “Do you have operational intelligence on their ship movements?”

“Some, yes,” Jesan said, handing over another portable display.

Steph flipped it over, skimming the information provided.

There’s a lot here, more than I’d like if I’m being honest… of course I’d rather like it if they didn’t have anything.

He noticed that the Empire didn’t have much on individual ships. They were clearly having issues telling Priminae vessels from Terran… aside from the Rogues, of course, which was likely to be expected since both sides were running largely identical hulls.

The Empire didn’t seem to know, or care, about identifying individual vessels, however.

Is that intentional? Or are they simply unable to read our markings?

A lot of the time, of course, it didn’t really matter. A cruiser was a cruiser. Many of them would be statistically interchangeable in battlefield terms. Even the most decorated individual didn’t, usually, have much of a statistical impact on a battle… let alone a war.

A hero might do the job of a hundred men… but most armies had the hundred men to spend, if they had to, and most leaders were already planning on spending them anyway…

However, there were exceptions, Steph knew well.

Simo Haya, Carlos Hathcock, Audi Murphy…

The Thousandth Man.

Ships had souls of their own, in his experience… both figurative and, more recently, literally in fact.

There were ships that you just didn’t discount as mere statistical copies of their brethren.

If the Empire is ignoring ship identifiers, I almost want to pity them.

“There are few indicators here identifying the ships in question,” Steph pointed out, now fishing for information as much as anything.

“Imperial Intelligence analyzes the data to get accurate counts of shipping,” Jesan said off handedly. “I am not concerned with what the Oathers, or the Anomalous Species care to call their vessels…”

Well, that covers that, I suppose… Steph thought.

“With an exception,” Jesan scowled slightly, reaching across for the display.

Steph handed it warily back, the expression on the man’s face causing him to give his full attention to the Fleet Commander.

“This vessel, identifier Anomaly One.” Jesan pointed. “This is the vessel that gave the command that burned my fleet, and the Imperial Assets.”

The Fleet Commander glowered… first at the display, and then at Steph.

“This ship, and the man in command… he is of concern. I will personally reward good information on either,” Jesan promised. “Above any Imperial payment.”

Steph glanced down at the ship he knew had to be the Odysseus, and nodded slowly.

“I believe I understand,” he said, doing his utter best not to let his emotions show on his face. “I will prioritize it as such.”

“Excellent, I thank you.”

Steph merely nodded.

“Now,” He went on. “Will the Empire be conducting any operations that might impact my own? If at all possible, it would be best to avoid any clashes that might… upset either of our missions.”

“The Third is currently being… reconsidered for deployment to the region,” Jesan said. “However, unless that should happen, it is unlikely that any Imperial operations will be impacted by your own. If my fleet is reassigned, I will contact you as soon as possible and arrange for necessary coordination. Acceptable?”

Steph could wish for more, of course… a lot more… but he had a good idea that was about the best he was going to get, so he nodded.

“Absolutely. It is a pleasure to do business with the Empire, Fleet Commander.”

*****

Imperial Tower, World Kraike

Emilia watched silently as the telemetry feed from the orbital relays showed the small squadron of mercenaries breaking from their parking position in high orbit and beginning the long climb out of the system. Making use of such people was something of a risk, but the situation was unusual enough that she didn’t feel overly worried about the violation of tradition it invoked.

Certainly, whether they succeeded or failed, or even really attempted to do the job they’d agreed to, hardly mattered in the long run. The Empire would not, ever, rely on such people for anything of a critical nature… no matter how talented.

The more variables we can make the enemy deal with, the less likely they will see the true strike coming…

She had done what she could now. Most of the rest would be up to her fleets of course, but Emilia felt herself filled with a terrible resolve.

The Xeno will die.

*****

Chapter Twenty-Two

AEV Boudicca

“Skipper, we’ve got drives lighting off!”

“Belay that unless they’re right on top of us. We have other problems to deal with,” Sandra Hyatt growled as she ran the calculations on their course and entered a minor modification to their own before mirroring it to the squadron as well.

“Aye Ma’am. They’re not… close.”

“Then mark them and forget them for the moment,” She said. “We’re scanning the hot Jupiter now, and the upper atmosphere is nearing the auto-ignition point. I don’t know what that will do to a planet that size that’s right on the edge of the Roche limit, and it’s not a question I ever wanted answered, but we’re about to find out.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

The squadron was climbing hard out of the star’s gravity well, but they were aiming off the system plane, which should help avoid the worst of what was coming. But even with relatively focused explosions Sandra knew that there would be more than enough energy flying out to the sides. If they got lucky, well they might likely be fine.

Might.

Likely.

If.

She didn’t want to think about that too much, not when it wouldn’t do her any good at least. Sandra made certain that everything was going as it should, everyone doing their jobs as well as she could hope for and well beyond her normal expectations… and only then did she flick her repeater display over to the long-range scans to check on the drives that had lit off.

Well off the system plane, she noted with some irritation.

It made sense, of course, both given what they were planning and the difficulty in locating the ships that they’d know were there.

For varying reasons, planets in a solar system tended to orbit on a single flat plane. Rogues that didn’t follow this rule tended to be right on the edge of the star’s gravity well, far enough out not to interfere with other planets’ orbits. She wasn’t sure, but she suspected that in the early formation of star systems things were likely more chaotic in nature, but the outliers tended to be thrown out of the system by gravity interactions or just wound up being trapped, redirected, or destroyed by same.

The exact mechanism wasn’t relevant now, however, just the effect.

Strategic targets were all in a single, predictable, plane. That was where you obviously had to focus your initial scans. So, hiding from a searcher was often as simple as not being where they were scanning, of course. The issue being that if you were far enough away from strategic targets to hide, you were generally too far away to accomplish anything significant as well.

Unless you were already at your target and set a trap, she thought sourly.

In that case, well, that brought her to the second key point. Knowing that they’d set a trap, they’d want to be as safe as possible while still being close enough to watch the outcome. Positioning themselves off the plane of the system was their best compromise for that.

Not along our course, sadly, she thought as she noted that they were in fact on the same side of the system plane that the squadron had opted to drive for.

Fifty fifty chance on that, she supposed. But the enemy drives were several AU up-well and appeared to be accelerating out of the system at a reasonable clip.

She marked them for the scanners, ensuring that her Bo and the rest of the squadron would keep an eye on them even as they accelerated away, at least so much as they reasonably could.

After she’d done that, she wiped the display back to the current crisis and continued her work as best she could.

*****

NACS Odysseus

“I want everything we have recording this!”

“Yes doctor.”

Doctor Marin Scolt was stomping through his lab, glaring at anyone getting in his way as he made sure that every piece of equipment he had, and a few he technically didn’t, were trained on the proto-star that was about to erupt in so many different ways that he’d lost track.

Scolt was one of the Odysseus’ civilian crew, largely in charge of the ship’s reasonably impressive stellar cartography and related labs. He wasn’t fond of serving on a ship of war, for both personal and practical reasons, but he was a man who went where his work took him… and there was nowhere better to be an astronomer and inter-stellar physicist than on one of Earth’s Heroic class ships.

Risk of death by various enemy actions aside, the views you got through the ship’s advanced suite of telescopes, radio telescopes, tachyon detection suites, and other related equipment was…

Breathtaking.

At the moment, though, he was focused less on Stellar mapping and far more on stellar formation. Not that what was happening to the Hot Jupiter would be a textbook definition of such, but he was confident that it would provide him and his people with relevant data worthy of years of work just on its own.

Assuming we survive to write the papers, I suppose.

That was always the underlying concern with serving on forward ships, of course, but it was a worthy risk to his mind. He’d seen things on the Odysseus that no human, from Earth at least, had ever seen before. If the price was his life…

So be it.

“Doctor, we’re getting some really funky readings off the planet…”

Scolt snorted, rolling his eyes as he got up and headed over to where one of his juniors was pointing at a display.

“It’s about to be torn apart by the local star, right at the same time as the entire atmosphere ignites in flames. If you weren’t getting funky readings, I’d be…” He trailed off as he got a look at the screen. “What the hell?”

“You see it too, Doctor?”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m seeing, but it’s something alright,” Scolt muttered.

Funky didn’t begin to describe what he was looking at. The gravitational waves were all over the place, so chaotic in fact that he wasn’t even certain what they were doing to local space time. The planet had actually surpassed the auto-ignition point, yet from what he could tell it hadn’t managed to ignite as predicted.

We’re missing something.

That was an easy thought to have, of course. If you were ever looking at a situation that didn’t make sense, then you were missing some key piece of information. Sometimes it was pieces of the puzzle you literally didn’t have, other times it was more along the lines of pieces you had but you’d misinterpreted. It could be difficult to put a puzzle together if you were trying to assemble a sunset, but thought you were working on an explosion, for example.

Which it was here, that was currently something he couldn’t tell for sure.

He did know one thing, however.

Protocol says I report this.

*****

Miram Heathe scowled automatically when the call came through from the Stellar Science Labs. Now was not the time to be complaining about not having enough access to the sensors, or time at whatever stellar point of interest they had.

She honestly debated ignoring the call for a brief moment, but ultimately that was a nonstarter as well, since they were the experts on space and protocol was clear.

“Heathe.” She said curtly. “Speak fast, I don’t have much time.”

“Understood, Captain,” Doctor Scolt said in clipped tones that immediately caused her to refocus her attention.

He wasn’t complaining, and he didn’t sound annoyed. It was an unusual thing for her to hear from the man, actually.

“There are anomalous readings from the planet, Ma’am,” he said quickly. “The Hot Jupiter has not yet ignited, when it should have, and it has thus far not begun tearing apart even as he descends farther past the Roche Limit.”

Miram quickly checked the numbers. Predictions had been made some time ago on both of those points, but she’d not fully understood the implications and had thus focused instead on simply escaping.

“According to the notes I have, you’re right on both points, Doctor,” she said, frowning. “Ideas?”

“Either there’s something about that planet that’s well outside our experience, which is possible of course, or whatever the enemy did to it… isn’t done whatever it’s doing yet.”

Miram felt a chill run down her spine as she considered that.

“Understood,” She said in a clipped tone, despite not understanding any of it really. “Keep looking into it. Figure it out, Doctor. Fast.”

“We’re on it, but there’s no way to predict how long it’ll take… if we ever figure it out,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low, likely to avoid spreading that last statement around his lab.

“I know. Do what you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

Miram let the connection close as she flicked her repeater display over to a visual of the star and planet. The Hot Jupiter was racing around the star at insane speed now, faster than most things ever managed in the natural universe in fact.

Curiosity pinged; Miram did some quick math before she let out a near silent whistle of surprise.

The damn thing is moving fast enough to show significant relativistic variance from the star. How the hell is it still holding together? The mass of the planet couldn’t possibly…

She felt a cold wash through her, swearing quickly as she started examining other data as fast as she could call it up.

A moment later, she was reaching for the communications tab.

“Weston.”

*****

Eric was unsurprised when the call from Miram came through. The situation was fluid and as fast as it would likely be changing, he’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t found something that needed to be passed along directly.

“Weston,” he said calmly, even as he continued working on the overview of the squadron, keeping an eye on some of the destroyers, since they didn’t have the durability of the Heroics and he wanted them clear of the situation as quickly as possible.

“Heathe. Commodore, we have an issue.”

Eric couldn’t help it, he snorted out loud. “Captain, we have so many issues I lost count a while back. Illuminate me as to the one you’re referring to.”

“The planet is still intact, Sir. It’s within Roche Limit, and it’s not tearing apart,” Miram said.

Eric frowned, turning his head just enough to see the repeater to his left. It showed exactly what Miram had said, which bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite put a pin in.

“I can see that. Ideas?”

“Only two, to be honest, Sir. Either we completely mis-classified the Hot Jupiter, which seems unlikely since our classification is based on deep analysis from Priminae sources…” Miram said slowly.

“Right, unlikely, but not impossible. What’s the other option?”

“Doctor Scolt spitballed it for me, in vague terms, but he said whatever they did to the planet… it’s still happening, Commodore. I think he’s right; the Roche Limit must have been moved,” Miram said.

Eric considered that, blood draining from his face as he thought through the implications.

“It’s my understanding that the limit is based on the physical composition of the interacting masses,” he said slowly. “To move the limit, the enemy would have had to…”

“Change the planet, yes sir.”

Why? What does that possibly serve?

“Have any clue as to why, Captain?” Eric voiced his thoughts.

“Only one, no idea if it’s right, but what happens if the planet actually impacts the star before igniting, particularly if whatever they’ve done is still active?”

Eric blinked furiously at that.

“I… I have no idea,” he said after a second’s hesitation.

“Nor do I, sir, but maybe we should find out… before we find out.”

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

Meld examined the data with satisfaction.

“They reacted well,” he said thoughtfully. “Given the circumstances, of course.”

“It will hardly avail them,” his second in command said, a hint of smugness in his tone.

There was truth in that, Meld knew. Sometimes you could do everything right, making all the best possible decisions… and still not be able to get out of the mess the universe put you in.

“The planet will collide with the star shortly,” his second continued on. “The impact alone will irradiate most of this system irretrievably. We are far enough away now that our defenses will be sufficient. The second phase of the impact, however, is more problematic, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld nodded grimly.

They’d had to setup close to the target; distances involved needed to be limited in order to ensure that monitoring and activation went off as scheduled. Even slight delays due to lightspeed lag on their equipment this far out from Imperial repeaters could have allowed for the enemy to escape.

Unfortunately, it also put them closer to the event than he’d prefer… by a significant margin.

“Have the Fershaw readied for impact from the shock wave,” He confirmed. “Secure everything down, ensure that radiative barriers are in place. We’ll run as far as we can before the shock front hits, but let’s be ready for it.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

The Imperial High Command demanded a great deal of its people, Meld supposed, but it was no less than he’d demand of himself.

“May the enemies of the Empire… burn.”

*****

Chapter Twenty-Three

Archangel One, Gaia’s Revenge

Steph had breathed his first sigh of relief when they began leaving the Imperial system, but hadn’t really breathed freely until they were well out into interstellar space and pushing for the border of the Empire itself.

It was something that he’d never really had all that much experience with.

Eric had spent time in hostile territory, even having the temerity to attend university in Beijing while working off the books for… someone, Steph assumed it was the Company, but Eric had never really confirmed that thought.

During Steph’s time with the Archangels, though, the one thing they’d been able to count on was support. Sometimes it was limited support, of course, but food, fuel, and ammo were generally always in good supply no matter how bad the war got.

His new assignment was something else entirely.

Food, fuel, and ammo still weren’t lacking, mind. The gunboats that had replaced the one-man fighters in the Archangel Lexicon were more than capable of long term missions, even ignoring resupply runs. As long as they had mass, they had fuel and ammo, and as for food… well, they couldn’t just magic that up from nothing as of yet, but they weren’t hurting for it either.

What was weighing on him, though, was the lack of communications lines to higher.

And my god is that a strange thing to think, considering…

During the war, especially, Steph had strained at the leash that was often put on them. The bosses were holding the Archangels back, using them sparingly if at all in many circumstances due to both their strategic propaganda value… no one wanted dead heroes on their record, after all, but also due to the value of the unit in real terms.

However, in addition to the leash, there was also a distinct freedom in having that access to oversight. Steph had always known that the buck didn’t stop with him. Eric shouldered that burden, and even he could pass decisions up the chain.

Steph didn’t have that while he was serving in his current capacity, and it was starting to make him feel like the weight on his shoulders was crushing him… slowly, millimeter by millimeter.

The current developments were the worst yet, if he were being honest. Compared to his previous actions, Steph was far more concerned with what he’d just agreed to. The potential rewards were insane, of course, but the risks…

Oh Lord, the risks.

At least we got out of there alive and intact….

“Hey, Crown, you awake there?”

Steph looked up as Tyke stuck his head into the office.

“Yeah, I’m here. Can’t sleep until I know we’re clear, you know?”

Tyke grunted, but nodded his assent, “I hear that. No sign of Imperial pursuit, but we’ve seen more than a few ships in passing. Some are undoubtedly pickets, sending intel back to the Fleet.”

“Right, no course deviations for the moment,” Steph confirmed his earlier orders. “We’re going to be the good little mercenaries they think we are, at least until we’re well out of Imperial Space.”

“Not gonna hear me bitching, boss,” Tyke chuckled. “I do not want to be sitting under that kind of firepower ever again.”

Steph wearily nodded, “I hear that. They had enough power there to slag our entire squadron in a heartbeat. We could have done some damage, if they gave us warning, but in the end the outcome would have been the same.”

Tyke just grunted as he dropped into the small seat across from Steph.

“Did we get what we needed out of it, at least?” he asked, honestly uncertain as to whether the risks involved had been worth it.

“I don’t know,” Steph replied honestly. “A lot of it is so far over my head I’m getting nosebleeds just thinking about it. The potential reward is there, and we did get a lot of intel that would never have been within our reach otherwise… but as to the impact it could have?”

He shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine, honestly,” Steph said.

Tyke rolled his eyes. “Well, that sounds like more of the same. We find out anything interesting for us lowly grunts?”

Steph gave the man a baleful glare, “Lowly grunt my ass, but yeah… maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Steph confirmed. “The Empress dropped a word or two I’m… uncomfortable with.”

Tyke stared over at him, “A word or two?”

“Imposter.”

The single word was delivered in a flat tone, causing Tyke to almost doubletake as he considered it, rolling it over in his head.

“I don’t follow,” he finally admitted.

“Don’t worry about the details,” Steph said with a wave of his hand. “Mostly it’s only of interest to researchers anyway. If I’m right, though, she means us.”

“The Archangels?” Tyke’s eyes widened in alarm. “If they’re onto us…”

“No,” Steph shook his head. “Humans from Earth Us, not Archangels Us… though the overlap is nearly one hundred percent as far as venn diagrams go, I suppose.”

“Ok, you lost me.”

“If I was hearing her right, the Empire doesn’t consider us to be… well, human, and the other language she used sounded really close to Jihad, if you get my drift,” Steph said wearily.

“Ok, now I’m following at least a bit, but I’m really not liking where this is going.”

“No one will, not once this gets back to Command,” Steph said firmly. “It’s bad news, no matter how you look at it, that’s for sure.”

Tyke resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that statement, which went down as one of the most profound understatements he’d ever heard. Wars were rough enough when they were over rational things, like resources and turf. Once you mixed faith, of any kind, into the mix… well, rational was out the window, and a lot of avenues for peace just dried right up.

When you were prosecuting a war over doctrine, well compromise rarely sat well with either side.

How do you compromise with someone who’s faith ruled their actions?

It wasn’t that it was hard, so much as it was utterly impossible, depending on what the point of contention was. If one side’s faith demanded that they kill the foreigners, well they weren’t going to bend on that… and the other side could hardly opt to compromise on it either.

“That’s not going to make the brass happy,” he said finally.

“Nope, it sure as hell won’t,” Steph answered as he fished around in his desk, pulling out a cheap bottle of whiskey from somewhere in its depths. “Drink?”

Tyke checked the status of the ship by glancing at the wall display.

“We’re not out of Imperial space yet, boss.”

Steph snorted, “I’m not drinking enough to get sloshed, much as I’d like to, and neither are you. Right now, even if the Empire opts to move on us, it’ll take them hours to pin us down in a fight. A shot won’t kill us.”

Tyke shrugged, it was a fair point he supposed, so he nodded.

Steph poured out a splash into a tin cup and slid it over before doing the same for himself.

“It was a nice simple job, once you know,” Steph said as he lifted the cup up and took a deep smell of the contents, letting the burn travel through his sinuses. “You should have been with us after the launch of the Odyssey. It was… clean, beautiful even.”

Tyke shook his head, “I was done with the service. Cutbacks were hitting everyone, but they offered us a pretty good severance package, so I took it.”

Steph nodded, “Thought about it myself, but couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more than to fly. Space, air… whichever, I didn’t care much.”

He shrugged, thinking about it. “Didn’t hurt that Eric spoke up and backed me as the next flight leader for the Angels, of course.”

“Of course,” Tyke laughed. “Even I might have stayed for that.”

It went unspoken that Tyke probably would have been in line for the task, had he pushed hard enough. Steph had been the youngest and, in many ways the most junior of the flight even by the end of the war. However, he’d also been the only one who’d essentially always been an Archangel.

Unlike the others, he’d grown up on the Angels. He hadn’t learned to fly and fight on other platforms. He was born and bred for the position, or that was the whispers that had been going around at the time.

Steph expected that they didn’t think he’d heard most of them, but hell the whole group of them could keep classified intelligence a secret to their graves and beyond… but anything less? Bunch of giggling schoolgirls, every last one.

Himself included, if he were being honest about it.

That thought caused Steph to pause and look at his still untouched whiskey.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d had too much already, thinking like that… He grinned before taking a sip, wincing at the burn, then throwing the rest back in a single gulp.

“Oh god that’s horrible,” he swore as the burn tore up his throat. “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

Tyke laughed at him, drinking his at a slower pace. “You never were all that much for booze, so don’t ask me. Still remember the first time you took a drink… Boss almost skinned me for letting it happen.”

Steph rolled his eyes, “You idiots snuck me off base to get me plastered, you’re lucky he didn’t find a torpedo tube to shoot you out of.”

Tyke just grinned, “It was a fun night though, and you needed the break. You were way too young to be trying to copy the boss’ work ethic. That crazy bastard doesn’t know when to stop, which is all fine and everything, but you were a kid with a serious case of hero worship. You didn’t need that kind of pressure.”

Steph set the tin cup down and just waved his free hand negligibly, “Could be, but I never wanted anything more than I wanted to fly, and when I saw what the Archangels could do? It was never a question in my head, I was never going to do anything that might end with me losing my seat.”

He looked around the small office he was currently sitting in and sighed, “Of course, times roll on.”

He smiled wanly at his old friend, “At least Eric showed me how to squirrel away my old airframe for later.”

“They let you keep those?” Tyke asked, “Really?”

Steph shrugged, “The CM units have been declassified, and the airframes are just old F-22s pulled from the aircraft graveyard in Nevada. The only things anyone in the government cares about in those old heaps is the NICS system and the weapons, both of which I have every clearance, permit, et cetera to own and operate in North America. Couldn’t fly it most anywhere else really, but it’s enough.”

“Honestly surprised that someone didn’t requisition those heaps for a museum by this point,” Tyke chuckled.

“Someday, I expect. Eric’s fighter only survived the loss of the Odyssey because he gave it to Cardsharp early on in the Drasin conflict, but I suppose one or two will likely survive long enough to be donated to the Smithsonian or something.”

“Where’d you leave yours then?”

“Security hangar, back on the base.”

Tyke just nodded; he didn’t need to ask what base. No matter how much they moved around, or how far some of them had travelled since, there was only one ‘the base’ for the Archangels.

“We’ve come a long way,” Tyke said after a moment, leaning back.

“Hundreds of lightyears… still doing the same bullshit,” Steph responded.

“Ain’t that the truth. It’s damn crying shame.”

“Yup.”

*****

Imperial Picket Vessel, Horan Faruth

“Contacts approaching on the course we were advised to watch, Ship’s Commander.”

“Understood,” Ship’s Commander Karun responded, checking the data for himself to confirm.

It was the expected contacts, moving along the projected course. He took the notes down, checking their progress as he entered the data into a message to be sent back to the Third Fleet.

“Message in the queue for Third Fleet Commander Jesan,” he said after a moment. “Send it at the next opportunity.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

That should let them know that their little pets are performing as expected thus far, Karun thought, a little irritated.

It was beneath the pride of the Imperial Fleet to employ pirates and the like in what was Fleet business, but the decision for this had come from far higher up than he could even tell at his level of access. His orders were explicit, along with the rest of the picket forces at least. Monitor and report.

Nothing else.

“As for the pirates, leave them pass. Orders.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

Karun remained silent after that, watching the progress of the little ships on the display as they moved through his sector, heading out of the Empire and into the contested stars.

*****

Imperial Third Fleet, Flagship

“Message for you, Fleet Commander. Priority tags.”

“Thank you, sub-lieutenant,” Jesan said as he turned to access the file.

It was nothing more than he’d expected, just the next in a line of messages saying that Teach’s pirates had gone on as they’d said they would. Even should they turn on the Empire, it would not be so soon, so Jesan merely logged the information and then sealed it.

His security access had been increased once more, leaving him with more responsibilities. Jesan was not entirely certain it was a gift from Her Majesty, though in part that might account for things. Unfortunately, he suspected that part of his elevation closer to his previous levels had more to do with the loss of the Eighth Fleet.

With two fleets broken, or near enough, on the teeth of the enemy forces, most other Fleet Commanders would be wary of throwing their forces recklessly into the jaws of such force. The anomalous species show of force against the Empire with their… strategic weapons… had given them a certain cachet of power, and given other Fleet Commanders an excuse to… not defy Her Majesty, but deflect some of her requests to others.

Such as myself.

A Fleet Commander, not technically disgraced but near enough that he couldn’t deflect such attentions himself, made for a useful tool.

He should know, he’d done it himself to others who’d fallen low.

It was why it was rare for someone to climb to the lofty heights of Imperial Nobility twice. You didn’t get there the first time without making enemies, and once you slipped a little, there would be others waiting to put you down for good.

It was an exhilarating game they all played, but the outcomes did tend to be… final.

*****

Chapter Twenty-Four

AEV Boudicca

“Planet scans are… unlike anything we’ve ever seen, Captain. There’s nothing in the database that comes close!”

Sandra checked the data briefly, mostly just pro-forma since she knew that anything that wasn’t in the database wasn’t likely to make much sense to her at a glance either. The planet was… elongating, but somehow not being torn to shreds by the gravitational shearing forces of the star, which should be quite impossible as best she knew.

Anything inside the Roche limit should simply be ripped apart by tidal forces, and a gas giant should have long since been turned into a flaming ring of debris being flung around the star, fast enough to eject some pieces and force out into the system.

Somehow, though, that wasn’t what was happening.

“Patch into the Priminae ships. See if their database has anything.”

“They’re searching, Ma’am, but nothing yet.”

“Then don’t worry about it and keep us moving,” she ordered. “We’ll worry about that impossibility after we accomplish the current one.”

She grinned at the look that statement got her, making herself relax back into the seat she occupied.

Nothing crews hated more than a Captain who looked as scared as they felt, after all.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Doctor Javits was near up on ready to tear the hair out of his scalp, and he was aware that his colleague, Doctor Scolts was in a similar state.

His specialty and that of Marin were focused very much on understanding how the universe operated, which was a pretty important thing when it came to running about the galaxy. The issue was that, more and more, he was finding that the Odysseus was tangling with fringe cases.

These were not situations that could be answered by understanding stellar formation, or planetary drift, or any of the other things he and his colleagues had spent their lives studying.

The current case in point, what happens when an intact protostar with some unknown space/time manipulation device large enough to shift its orbit… actually struck a star.

He didn’t know, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out from point blank range, but it appeared that none of them were getting a vote on that unfortunately.

“Marin,” He called out. “Could you check me on this? These numbers are so insane. I’m honestly worried that I’m just screwing the math up.”

“A moment,” Scolt said from his lab across the way.

A few seconds later the other researcher appeared, rubbing his hands through his hair, and looking as frustrated as Javits felt.

“What is it, Paul?” He asked, making his way over.

“Here,” Javits turned the display around. “See this line? Are you getting results like this?”

“Huh…” Scolt frowned, looking at them briefly and shaking his head. “It’s insane. Numbers like this shouldn’t even exist in a sane galaxy. But yeah, it matches what I’m finding. The stresses that planet is under, it should have ripped to pieces by now, but it hasn’t even ignited despite the temperature passing the auto-ignition point several minutes ago.”

“Yeah…” Javit said, trailing off.

Scolt looked over at him, hearing something in his tone. “What is it?”

“I don’t know… not yet, just a second,” Javit said as he turned back to his computer and started hammering at the interface, throwing data at the quantum core of the system, getting it working on crunching the interaction equations. “The planet should break up. It should practically explode from the stresses it’s under, but it isn’t. What happens if whatever is keeping it intact holds together after the impact?”

“Nothing is going to survive that impact, Paul,” Scolt snorted. “A planet bigger than Jupiter is about slam into a star. There’s nothing that can survive that.”

“Nothing can survive inside the corona of a star either, but the Priminae have an entire populated planet resting inside one. I’m not taking anything for granted.”

*****

Eric absolutely despised situations like the one he was currently dealing with.

It wasn’t the risk of death that drove him mad; that was the sort of thing he and everyone on board had signed up for, hard though that was to explain to civilians. No, it was the waiting amid the rising tensions that were getting so thick that it could practically be sliced like a tangible thing. The risk was one thing, the risk just sitting there, waiting, while he and his could do nothing but wait?

Absolutely infuriating.

Worse, because all of his fury?

It was worthless. All he could do was watch.

Next time someone offers me a promotion, I’m going to shoot them.

It would be a cleaner way to deal with the bullshit than trying to wade through the muck, at least, Eric snorted softly to himself.

He could feel the presence of Odysseus still in the room, and glanced over. Oddly, the young entity seemed… ill at ease in a way that Eric didn’t recall ever seeing before.

“Are you alright?” he asked, wondering what he could do if the answer was in the affirmative. Would a doctor be of any use? A psychiatrist?

Odysseus shot him an amused look, “Of either of those, the latter would undoubtedly be best, but perhaps a theoretical physicist might be of more use.”

Eric chuckled, “I suppose so. Still, you don’t look so good.”

“The local system is… in flux,” Odysseus said slowly. “I cannot explain it better. I wish that I could. It is not natural, however, that much I can tell. It’s… discomfiting.”

“Well, nothing new in that information,” Eric sighed, looking back to the screens around him. “I don’t think any of us were under the impression that this was… natural.”

“Agreed.” Odysseus said softly before cocking his head to one side, his expression shifting.

“What is it?”

“You are about to receive a call,” Odysseus glanced at the comm panel. “I advise answering it.”

Eric blinked, eyes tracking to the panel just as it lit up and a tone sounded. He tapped the panel automatically.

“Weston.”

“Commodore, we have a problem,” Javits voice said, sounding… bad.

“I’m assuming you mean other than the obvious one?” Eric ground out, not really wanting to know.

That’s being in command, though, I suppose. What I want and what I need are so very rarely the same things.

“No, it’s the obvious one, Sir,” Javits said tiredly. “Turns out, though, that it wasn’t obvious enough. We’re not looking at what we thought we were looking at.”

That sent a chill down Eric’s back.

“Tell me,” he ordered simply.

“The planet isn’t reacting to the stellar gravity the way it should, which has been screwing with our analysis… I ran the numbers, assuming that the effect holds even after impact with the star,” Javits said, “Took some crunching, and some help from Scolt, but the computers spit the numbers back… It’s not good sir. If the effect holds, the gravity of the planet added to the star, it might be enough to collapse it.”

Eric froze in place for a moment, his mind struggling to catch up to what he’d just heard.

“Collapse it?”

“Probably not enough gravity there to create a stable singularity,” Javits said, as though that would be comforting. “But that just means that after the implosion… well, it’ll all come rushing back out.”

“Nova.”

“Yes Sir.”

Eric looked to their course projections, and then glancing at the estimates for the… event. He wasn’t going to call it an explosion, because his head couldn’t wrap itself around the idea of an explosion that large.

“We’re not even going to be close to getting out of range, even at our best acceleration,” he frowned. “Transitioning out… impossible. We could risk going full FTL warping…”

“Commodore, we’ll never be able to maintain a warp field that powerful, we’re too close to the gravity wells of both the star and the Hot Jupiter,” Javits told him.

“I know that, but it’s our only shot…”

Eric was clutching at straws, and he knew it. Field manipulation was tricky. Twisting space time didn’t happen easily as the universe, for lack of a better phrase, tended to fight the process. Larger gravity fields put an upper limit on the size you could manage with a ship’s drive. As close as they were to the star, given the gravitation manipulations of the enemy on top of it, Eric knew that they’d have a better chance of escaping using the Odyssey’s reaction drive rather than the nearly infinitely more powerful warp drive of the Odysseus.

Irony, perhaps. He didn’t know, didn’t really care at the moment.

“There may be another option.”

Eric twisted, eyes falling on Odysseus who had been standing there in silence all through the conversation. Over the screen, Javits was also looking at the entity, Eric noticed vaguely out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Eric asked simply.

“The force and energy of the explosion will not be directed at us, not specifically,” Odysseus said. “Therefore, we do not need to defend against the entirety of the force…”

“This close to an exploding star, it’s not going to matter much,” Javits warned. “There’s so much more force than our defenses can handle it’s not even close.”

“Our defenses, yes I agree,” Odysseus said. “However, we have an… alternative.”

“Stop dancing around the subject,” Eric said shortly. “We don’t have time for it.”

“Agreed,” Odysseus sighed. “I suggest we try something a little… risky.”

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“The enemy fleet is shifting formation, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld looked up from the work he’d been finishing up, only mildly curious. There wasn’t anything the enemy could do to avoid what was coming, but he supposed it might be interesting and potentially instructive to see what they were going to attempt.

“Have they finally worked out what’s happening?” he asked mildly as he approached the station.

“Possibly, though I am uncertain as to what exactly to make of this, Ship’s Commander… have a look.”

Meld frowned thoughtfully as he leaned over to examine the changes. After a moment, his frown deepened, and he leaned in closer.

“What are they doing?” he wondered at what he was seeing.

The enemy formation seemed to have shifted from a relatively conventional compact spread formation, the sort used to keep vessels close enough for secure communications but far enough apart to prevent accidents or mass damage from a directed assault to something he could only describe as… single file?

“They’ve moved their smaller class of ships out front; the more powerful vessels have taken a rear-guard position,” he murmured. “But that’s insanity. They can’t possibly be shielded enough that it would matter, and even if it did the wave propagation of the explosion would…”

He trailed off, shaking his head. It made no sense.

“How long until the star goes critical?” he demanded.

“Not long now, Ship’s Commander.”

“Monitor them,” he said. “I want to see what they’re planning, even if it’s useless.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld straightened up and stepped back.

These anomalous people are… certainly living up to their titles.

*****

NACS Odysseus

“Squadron reports in position, Captain!”

Miram nodded, “Hold course, and if you’ve got any lucky charms, now’s the time to play em, boys and girls.”

She checked the telemetry herself, to be sure, but as she’d been informed the squadron was in position as ordered. The new formation was an abomination of any sort of modern tactics she could remember from the books, but she trusted that the Commodore had a plan.

He better, because whatever the hell comes our way, the Odysseus is going to catch it full bore before anyone else.

The new formation was a long single file formation, with the Odysseus planted solidly between the star and the rest of the formation.

She just hoped that wasn’t the Commodore’s idea of fatalistic nobility, but rather a sign that he had a real plan.

“Ma’am, the star is starting to show spikes across the electromagnetic spectrum… the planet has been drawn fully into the coronasphere!”

“All hands, brace for impact.”

*****

“Tighten up that formation,” Eric ordered over the laser whiskers comm. “Bring the lead elements back! I want no more than a hundred klicks between the point of the spear and the Odysseus! Less is better!”

He didn’t bother waiting for acknowledgement; his captains were good enough they didn’t need him riding herd on them more than absolutely necessary. What they were trying to do was very much against the modern doctrine of running ships, but he figured that there wasn’t much left to risk given what was already at stake.

“Commodore! Spectral hits from the star are going insane, we’ve never recorded anything like this before,” Javit informed him. “I think it’s about to collapse.”

“All ships, brace for turbulence.”

Well, there’s an order I never figured I’ve given in a Heroic class vessel.

Generally speaking, any turbulence sufficient to overwhelm the gravity control of a Heroic Cruiser would normally leave the crew as little more than a red stain on the bulkheads. The current situation, though, was… an oddity.

They were already experiencing waves of gravitational disturbance, interacting with the cores of each of their warp drive powered ships. So far, it was only noticeable in minor shudders through the deck, but the interference was getting worse, and the projections made it clear that they were only barely experiencing the tip of what was to come.

“The star is collapsing!”

“Stand ready,” Eric ordered. “Say again, all ships, stand ready!”

The board began to ping with acknowledgement coming back from each ship, but he barely paid any mind to it.

“Odysseus…” he said, a hand unconsciously patting the bulkhead beside him as he turned to the entity. “It’s your play.”

The entity nodded firmly, a moment of focus and intensity that Eric had yet to see on the face of the being now shining clear through.

“I understand. I am ready.”

Eric nodded, opening up another comm channel, “Captain Heathe… execute Phalanx on your mark.”

“Roger that. Heathe out.”

*****

Miram felt her hands clench at the rests of her chair, shudders… imagined or real, running through the ship beneath her.

“I want a running update, audible cues only, on the state of the star’s collapse,” she ordered. “Starting now.”

“Aye Ma’am. Stellar mass is increasing, beyond the mere addition of the Hot Jupiter. Collapse of the outer layer of the star has commenced.”

Miram didn’t bother to respond; she was focused on getting everything else into position.

“Get our warp bumped up by another ten percent,” she demanded. “Redline the systems, don’t worry about refit, if we survive this, we can do battle with the bean counters later.”

“Aye Ma’am. Redlining the warping systems.”

Alarms began sounding in response.

“And turn those off!”

*****

Deep, deep down at the center of the stellar gravity well, the star at the very bottom was heaving in an artificial death knell that could be felt the entire breadth of its influence. Waves of gravity swept out from the star, paroxysms of violence trying to tear the star apart from beneath the surface.

Far below the climbing starships, the brilliant light of the system’s primary star dimmed suddenly, and the circle of the star seemed to shrink in a violent motion as the surface began to develop a highly unusual appearance as the darkened surface began to… crack.

From beneath the surface, the power that had briefly been crunched down into a smaller space than it could possibly hold… erupted forth as the star went Nova. The ensuing torrent of power exploded out in all directions, twisting, and whirling though the vacuum as the gravitational tsunami at its core twisted and mangled space/time.

Nearly incalculable power rushed through space, screaming as everything before it was wiped away until the next thing to be destroyed was a tiny, insignificant, convoy of ships in the dark… and about to be brought very much into the light.

*****

NACS Odysseus

“Initiate Phalanx!” Miram snapped as the spectral analysis of the star led the blast front just barely enough to give them the warning of what was to come.

“Phalanx initiated!”

The Odysseus twisted in space, ports along the big hull opening in response to the order, while out on the outer deck a small figure stood, eyes locked on the distant star as he waited. With the order given, Odysseus reached out and did something he’d long before been ordered to never do. He took control of the spacetime warps that created gravitational effects on the ship, defined the warp bubble that moved it… and the fields that shielded it.

With less than seconds to go, the entity did his best to maintain shipboard gravity as close as he could while he rearranged the gravity fields… reaching out wide with them, Odysseus threw up a shield ten thousand kilometers across in all directions, a shield that reached out and funneled all the power thrown at it in toward the center.

Then the rage of the star was upon them, slamming into the funnel of spacetime Odysseus was holding open through sheer will, whirling around in angry coils as it was all brought in, concentrated to the center where the ship was waiting.

An umbrella ten thousand miles across shielded the task group, as the fury of the exploding star roiled around them, right up until the angry coil of whirling power reached the center and struck the Odysseus.

Everything went mad, for a second, and then… just dark and quiet.

*****

Chapter Twenty-Five

AEV Boudicca

“Status report, All stations!” Sandra Hyatt gasped out as she clawed her way back to the command station from where she’d been thrown.

Holy hell, I didn’t think it was even possible to get thrown around like that on a Heroic cruiser!

The common wisdom was that any force sufficient to overload the inertial protections provided by the singularity core would leave the crew inevitably as little more than a splatter of red across the decks.

Glad that turned out to be wrong… she thought, relief at being alive and tinged by a sourness as Sandra rubbed at her bruises as she fell back into the command station. Maybe having seatbelts wouldn’t have been so stupid an idea after all…

“Singularity reactor is secured, output holding…”

“Damage control teams sealed a breach on Deck Three! Internal pressure currently at point seven atmospheres and stabilizing.”

“Weapons systems online!”

Sandra let the reports wash over her as she got her displays working and checked the overview as it was shown there.

Odysseus isn’t responding, but the rest of the squadron seems intact… Jesus, she shook her head, they actually did it.

The shock wave from the exploding star had blown past the squadron, leaving them scattered to the solar winds, yet somehow still miraculously intact. She checked the readings still in the system and could tell immediately that they’d not gotten even close to the projected overpressure against the exterior hull.

She’d not really believed that the Odysseus could pull off what they’d promised with Operation Phalanx, but there hadn’t been much else to do, so she was plenty happy to be proven wrong.

“Get me eyes on the Odysseus!” Sandra ordered.

“Aye Ma’am. Odysseus on main viewer.”

She looked up to the big screen, eyes narrowing as she made out the dim image of the Odysseus as it drifted in space.

They’re in one piece, that’s good news.

“As soon as we’re finished with damage control evaluation, I want to make ready to come about,” she ordered. “We’re not leaving them back there.”

“Aye M… Ma’am. Problem,” her scanner tech said sharply. “Enemy drive signatures inbound!”

******

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

Meld growled impatiently as he waited for the systems to return to functional status. Being as close to an exploding star as they were, even given a reasonable safety margin there were serious knockbacks to every system on board.

“Screens up, Ship’s Commander!”

“About time,” he snapped, rising to his feet. “Center on the last known location of the enemy forces. I want to confirm their destruction.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander!”

The screen flickered angrily, powerful interference still making the systems respond in touchy ways to say the least, but in short order the imagery solidified on an empty section of space.

“No contact, Ship’s Commander.”

“Track along the previous course, adjust for the pressure wave,” Meld ordered. “Find the debris.”

“Tracking…”

The image remained depressingly unchanged. Empty space had a way of looking like empty space, after all, so Meld and his crew were forced to wait as the system calculated likely trajectories and the impact of the massive explosion on the travelling material.

Finally, however, they found something, and he leaned in as the system adjusted and began to gather light from the location.

It was… not what he was expecting.

“Enemy ships… intact, Ship’s Commander.”

“That’s not possible…” Meld shook his head, stunned.

Nothing survives that close to an exploding star; he knew that like he knew his own name.

What am I to do now? He honestly didn’t have a clue. His orders were to eliminate the ships, but to do so in a way that also eliminated the evidence. The enemy task group was, somehow, still intact and that placed him and his crews in a rather difficult position.

The Fershaw didn’t have the power to take on the enemy fleet, never mind whatever magic they’d pulled out of their… unmentionables… which, thankfully, took the decision from his lap.

“Open contact with the Division Commander.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander.”

*****

Forward Division Command Ship, Rising Grace

“Division Commander, forward feed from the Fershaw… the intelligence is… concerning.”

Division Commander Carra Isles turned slightly, irritated by the interruption.

“It had best be more than disturbing if you’re bothering me now,” she said, setting down her utensils and pushing away from the food in front of her.

“Sorry, Division Commander, but it’s urgent.”

“Very well,” She said flatly. “Show me.”

The messenger flicked his fingers, sending the data from his portable to the main system in the room as she turned to examine it. After a moment her eyes widened as she reread the report and then examined the scene.

“Impressive,” Was her only comment.

The silence stretched out in the room for a long moment, the messenger getting more and more nervous. Finally, he started to speak, only for her to shut him down with a gesture.

“Nothing to be done about it,” she said. “Signal the rest of the Division. We’re going to finish the job the star began.”

“Yes, Division Commander.”

Carra watched with barely disguised amusement as the messenger bolted from the room, leaving her alone with the imagery that she turned her focus back to.

How in the Galaxy did you manage to survive that?

It was a question she’d very much like answered, though she supposed it was likely she would have to accept disappointment in the end. The Division’s orders were clear, after all, and surviving an exploding star or no, if the Empire wanted there to be no evidence… well, there would be no evidence.

*****

AEV Boudicca

Sandra swore as she counted the drives that were lit off and accelerating down well in the squadron’s direction.

“Get me a line to the Bell,” she demanded. “And keep trying to raise the Odysseus!”

“Aye skipper!”

Sandra was working on the intercept telemetry when Captain Roberts appeared on the screen just off her right elbow.

“Captain,” he nodded. “I see you’ve noticed our company.”

She snorted, “Hard to miss them when they’re warping space like that. I’m out of contact with the Odysseus, so unless you have a link to them…?”

She paused, grimacing slightly as he shook his head, but nodded as she’d expected as much, “That places you in command of the squadron, Captain, so I’m looking for orders.”

Roberts nodded unhappily.

She didn’t blame him. Their situation was not a particularly good one; the warping that she was reading was significant enough to worry her.

“With the Odysseus down, we have to confirm whether there are any survivors,” he said.

“Agreed. I’ll send out shuttles, see if we can get anyone on board.”

Roberts nodded, “Tell them to hurry.”

“Of course.”

If the Odysseus crew hadn’t survived the Nova, then they could exercise a lot more tactical mobility. If the crew were still alive, though, Sandra knew that they were about to engage in a nasty defensive battle.

The idea was far from palatable, but that was the way of things.

“Get me the flight deck,” she ordered.

“Aye Ma’am, flight deck… online to your station.”

Sandra glanced down, nodding to the CAG, who was looking back at her.

“I need shuttles in the void, CAG, rescue ops,” she ordered. “Get them back to the Odysseus, see if anything can be done.”

“Yes Ma’am. We’ll have a bird in the black in five.”

“Make it three. We have company inbound.”

The CAG nodded grimly, “Understood. Three it is.”

*****

Boudicca Flight Deck

“Iceni One, you are cleared for launch. Skipper wants the Odysseus checked out ASAP. We have hostiles inbound and it’d be nice to know the situation before they get here.”

“Roger that, Control,” Lieutenant Blake Mash responded as he checked off the last of his pre-flight and secured the shuttle seals. “Iceni One preparing to lift off. Open the doors.”

“Flight doors opening.”

He leaned forward, looking up to visually confirm what Flight Control and his sensors were telling him, that the doors above the shuttle were, in fact, opening.

A design peculiarity of the Heroic Class ships, and their Priminae counterparts, was that the singularity core produced variable gravity that could be controlled to certain degrees. An upshot of that was no more rotating habitats and the like making him sick to his stomach, but it did have certain odd effects as well.

The gravity was sufficient to hold in the air as the doors opened, mostly at least, but because the atmosphere was being held back by gravity alone, it necessitated launching the shuttle up rather than along a horizontal runway as the original Odyssey Class starships had used.

So, once he confirmed the doors were open, Mash nodded over to his co-pilot, who fired up the engines and CM drives. Then he checked the area one last time to make sure there were any of the crew left around as he put power to the thrusters and the shuttle began to lift off the deck.

There was no transition into space, as there would be from a planet. One moment they were climbing with the metal bulkheads of the ship all around them, and the next there was nothing but an inky black in all directions save down. As Iceni One cleared the gravity well of the ship’s core, Mash turned the nose around and put power to the main thrusters, accelerating away as quickly as he dared that close to the ship.

“Iceni One away,” he reported, checking the numbers. “We do not have the Odysseus transponder on our screens. Request telemetry to target.”

“Telemetry being mirrored, Iceni One.”

“Roger that, target telemetry is confirmed. Time to get to work,” Mash said coolly, looking up over the controls through the narrow viewport that doubled as a windscreen in atmo as he checked to see if there was any sign of the Odysseus to the naked eye.

He didn’t expect any, and wasn’t surprised to find none. While close, the big Heroic class ship was at least a couple hundred klicks away, and drifting dark. Without the Boudicca to point him in the right direction, it would have been a pain to find even with the shuttle’s active scanners.

“Godspeed, Iceni One.”

In the black, the shuttle flared its drives and flung itself into the black.

*****

Imperial Forward Division Cruiser, Scarbor Fershaw

“New orders, Ship’s Commander.”

Meld nodded, checking the message that had accompanied the announcement.

Well, can’t say those are much of a surprise, he supposed as he read the orders to regroup with the Division and prepare to press the attack.

Their orders didn’t give much leeway on the matter, all things considered. He’d be a lot happier about it, however, if they had any idea how in the eternal abyss the enemy had survived the Nova in the first place.

I do not like flying into a fight like this with an enemy holding that kind of advantage hidden from us, He thought grimly.

Unfortunately, though, that seemed to be the way this little war of the Empress’ tended to go. This enemy wasn’t like most of those the Empire had tested itself against in the last few generations. They were a strange lot, that much was certain. They didn’t think like Imperials, and that made them unpredictable… dangerous.

“Secure all non-essential stations,” he ordered. “I want damage control teams all up and ready to go to work. Secure the Fershaw for a fight, and don’t treat it like the last few we’ve been in!”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander,” his second answered dutifully.

No, this certainly isn’t like to be the same as the last few fights we’ve seen.

*****

NACS Odysseus

The ship was black as he walked its decks, like a ghost in the machine.

Confusion reigned, leaving him unable to focus, unable to manage even a single coherent thought, leaving him stumbling and cursing in multiple languages under his breath as he tried so very hard to remember what had occurred to leave him in such a state.

Only flashes were coming to him, bright points of clarity amid the jumble of distractions that were his living world at the time.

The sounds of screaming, in the distance… so far in the distance… left him shuddering as he wandered.

“Hello?” Odysseus called out. “Is there anyone there?”

Nothing but the hollow cries responded, echoing from somewhere he couldn’t find.

*****

Chapter Twenty-Six

AEV Boudicca

“Get damage control teams on those leaks,” Sandra Hyatt ordered. “We’ve got some time, but when it’s done, we’ll be wishing we had a lot more.”

“Aye Skipper!”

Sandra watched the screens as the Bellerephon and other ships of the squadron arrayed themselves in a defensive position, covering both the Odysseus and the Bo as she tasked her crew with establishing what had happened to those on the Odysseus… and whether or not there was any left there to save.

The ship was, perhaps surprisingly, intact from the outside. However, Sandra knew that the hulls of the Heroics were damned hard to crack. Penetrating their armor generally took directed weapons fire, nothing short of that had a chance. The Nova explosion, not a super nova thanks to all the Gods that humanity had ever worshipped, had been immensely powerful but also largely undirected.

Undirected forces were somewhat easy to dissipate, being undirected and all. Granted, a Nova had more than enough power that ‘dissipating’ the force was something she would have considered impossible until the Commodore ordered the squadron into the bizarre formation he had under the name of Operation Phalanx, but the point held just the same.

The calculations she’d run actually indicated that the ship’s hulls might well have survived the explosion even without Phalanx, though the force would have overwhelmed the gravity and inertial compensation sufficiently to render the crews as little more than a splatter on the decks… but the ships themselves would have probably been mostly in one piece, from the outside at least.

Well, until their cores collapsed and sucked in the hulls and everything else, of course.

That was still a concern with the readings she was getting from the Odysseus, so she was unhappy with sending any of her people that close to a potentially unstable singularity core, but if there was anyone alive on that ship, she had to at least try to get them out of there.

“Ma’am, ETA to enemy contact forty minutes.”

Sandra twisted, “Forty minutes? That fast?”

“They’re hauling ass, Ma’am. I don’t think they’re happy that we survived.”

She snorted, “I’d be pretty pissed too, if I blew up a star as part of an ambush and the enemy didn’t have the decency to die.”

Several people on the bridge chuckled at that, but she just shook her head.

“What’s the squadron doing?” she asked.

“Roberts has deployed forward of our position, preparing to intercept the inbound targets, Ma’am.”

“Lovely. Tell Iceni One we need intel on the fate of the Odysseus’ crew, and quickly,” she said.

“Aye Ma’am.”

I need to know if we must put more birds out in the black or if there’s not much point.

With the star and the strategic facility gone, there wasn’t much here worth fighting over, all things considered. Sandra wouldn’t commit her people to a fight over empty space if she had a choice.

*****

Imperial Cruiser Rising Grace

“Enemy squadron has reformed. They’re preparing to meet our assault, Division Commander.”

“I see it,” Carra said idly as she eyed the telemetry.

The enemy fleet didn’t have the power to match her division, but from studying the previous encounters she knew that power wasn’t the only thing they brought to local space. How they survived that Nova being a key factor beyond our intelligence.

“Contact time approaching.”

“Forward elements will fire on my command and not before,” Carra snapped.

“Yes, Division Commander.”

She was happy to let them form up, get themselves into a nice predictable lineup for her gunners to track. It would make things quicker, after all.

They certainly couldn’t have taken that explosion without serious damage. However, they survived, we can correct the oversight.

*****

AEV Bellerephon

“Here they come, Captain.”

“Check fire, all units,” Jason Roberts ordered calmly, standing beside his station.

He had long preferred to be standing during a fight, something he attributed to his time in the Rangers. It was better to die on his feet than in a comfortable chair, if only because he expected the comfort to be a distraction.

“Aye Captain. All ships confirm check fire.”

The enemy telemetry was showing the Imperials coming in hot and heavy, which he supposed was to be expected, all things concerned. You didn’t resort to the lunacy this group did, and then want to leave witnesses who saw you do it.

“All ships, standby to vary your positions,” he ordered over the Task Group channel. “The enemy will begin firing from extreme ranges, but don’t underestimate their lasers. Deploy detection drones, move them out to thirty light seconds. Fighter command and controls, launch when ready.”

The Heroics of the group, including those belonging to the Priminae, followed the command and the Bell’s example as Jason nodded to his staff and they began putting drones and fighters into the black.

He rather wished that they’d had the Archangels, either the old or the new versions, on hand for this fight but the Vorpals were superior air frames in most regards so they weren’t hurting as bad as they might have been but having been firsthand witness to some of the insanity that the Archangels could pull off… well, Roberts still felt their absence.

The first line of defense would be the drones they’d just launched, providing intel on the enemy lasers via short range FTL burst. Thirty light seconds was the minimum effective range for those, however, and once the enemy got close, that advantage would go up in smoke… literally… because they’d not be able to adjust to the enemy frequencies fast enough to beat the lasers.

“Drones taking up position, Sir. We’ll be fully covered in… three minutes.”

“Good work.”

One thing he’d learned, serving under Eric for so long, was that preparation accounted for more than just the obvious.

“Charge beams on alternating vessels,” he ordered. “Fire when the enemy breaches… ten light minutes. Continue firing on alternating vessels every two minutes.”

“Yes sir. Orders dispatched.”

Jason nodded grimly, mind tallying up the numbers.

It’s going to be a tight one, if we can’t evade and escape, He decided. The enemy had enough ships to make things bad under ideal circumstances, but even with the Odysseus’ sacrifice, the Bell was hardly in full form, nor were any of the others.

The smaller Rogues that served as escorts hadn’t taken the baffling of the Nova’s shockwave around the Odysseus’ shielding nearly as well as the Heroics. And while none had been outright destroyed, they were all still in the process of working back up to something that might be considered fighting form.

He wasn’t complaining, exactly. The fact that any of them were intact at all was a miracle enough for him… but it all left a bad image for the coming fight.

“Full charge to all Pulse torpedo banks,” he ordered. “Unless containment is shaky, I want those nightmares loaded and ready to fly.”

“Aye sir. Full charge, all pulse banks, Aye.”

“What’s the state on the T-Cannons?” He asked, shifting his attention.

“Local spacetime is still a snarl, sir, but it’s calming. We might be able to fire in a few minutes.”

“Load them,” he ordered. “Fusion warheads.”

“Fusion warheads, aye.”

No chance he was going to take a chance with the experimental Anti-matter warheads, not with local spacetime as badly mangled as it was, but if even a tenth of the fusion systems successfully reintegrated, it would be worth doing.

If nothing else, we’ll make sure they know they’ve been in a scrap.

*****

Iceni One

“Odysseus off the port side, sir. Full spectrum hail out. No response.”

Mash nodded, checking his flight telemetry, “I think I’ve got a reading on their core… but it’s hard to tell in this mess.”

The Nova had completely fucked local spacetime readings, making the entire place look like a bottle of soda that had been shaken for twenty minutes before being blown apart by a shotgun. Roiling eddies in the undercurrent of spacetime were a pain to eliminate from the scanners. That shouldn’t have been enough to stop them from detecting a planetary mass level power core, and he didn’t think it was… which meant that there was something else at play.

Great. Like we don’t have enough problems.

“Hit them with the spots,” he ordered, easing the shuttle around the big hull that was drifting in space. “Let’s see if we can spot anything.”

“Aye sir.”

Powerful spotlights reached out the few hundred meters or so, pinning the big ship’s hull with a few million candlepower. Powerful enough to be considered a weapon if they were on a tighter beam, the lights lit up the ship like the sunward side would be… if they were in a system with a sun any longer, that is.

“Not seeing any damage…” his co-pilot said, sounding shocked.

Mash didn’t blame him; he’d have expected some serious scorching at the very least. Nothing should be able to survive that kind of power without getting toasty, after all.

It looks like it’s just… sailing normally, aside from the unguided drift at least. What in the hell was Operation Phalanx?

The first he’d heard of it was when it was announced over the comms, and there hadn’t been time or inclination to share details of course. Whatever it was, Mash was damned impressed.

Hope we repeat this… hope we never need to, still…

“Ok, we’re getting nothing here,” he said. “I’m going to sweep around. Let’s see if we can find anything that indicates the state of the interior before we try to dock with one of the locks.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

Imperial Cruiser Rising Grace

Carra looked over the status of her division, satisfied with the formation as they approached the enemy forces. The intelligence on this enemy made it clear that they were not to be underestimated, but what she was seeing showed that while they had, somehow, survived the trap her people had established here… it hadn’t left them unmarked.

They were sluggish compared to their normal response time, and the smaller ships in particular appeared to be in somewhat of disarray.

They did not survive that unscathed, at least.

New Imperial edict had come forth, actually demanding prisoners. Carra had found that to be rather ridiculous, given their operations orders to this point, but had dutifully logged the order that would likely be, in her opinion, utterly useless…

Now, however, she was not so certain.

I would very much like to know how they survived that shock front.

She couldn’t even call it an explosion, really. Calling a Nova an explosion was almost… insultingly understating the event. The shock front from the leading edge of the exploding star should have been sufficient to vaporize any armor those ships had, leaving anything that did survive as little more than scattering debris.

That they were intact at all, let alone with still living and functioning crews?

Utterly remarkable.

Perhaps some prisoners might be a good idea after all, she thought, leaning in as her Division closed within the extreme engagement range.

She flinched then, when a bloom of energy erupted off one of her lead vessels.

“Laser strike! Forward armor, the Fear’s Bane, Ma’am! They report minor to moderate damage, are still able to fight.”

“Damn it, begin evasive patterns,” she swore, irritated.

Whoever is in charge of this group is a little quicker to fire than the previous commanders we’ve dealt with. Interesting.

“Evasive patterns, Yes Division Commander!”

*****

AEV Bellerephon

Waiting the ten minutes for a laser to cross the intervening space, then the nine minutes and some odd seconds for the return response was a nerve-wracking time, more so for Jason now than it ever had been before.

Did Eric always feel like this? It’s exhausting.

“Return fire registered! Armor adapting.”

Roberts watched as the enemy lasers splashed off the forward beam of the ship, invisibly of course, but only to the human eye, the ship’s scanners filled in the details on the augmented display of the strike. With the forewarning from the drones, they had just enough time to adapt the armor to the enemy frequencies.

Now, if we could only convince them to stay at range, this whole fight would be a lot easier.

Unfortunately, he knew that the Imperial Doctrine leaned into close pass firing, and slugging it out until one side or the other was broken and drifting in space.

It was an annoyingly wasteful strategy, but effective against the sort of defenses Terran vessels had been built with.

Almost makes me wonder if they didn’t develop it while fighting an enemy with similar capabilities, perhaps?

At the moment, though, it was pointless to speculate.

“Continue return fire.”

“Aye Sir.”

*****

Chapter Twenty Seven

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“Long range fire… ineffective, Division Commander. Enemy return fire continuing.”

“Bull through,” Carra ordered, face fixed with determination.

She’d seen the reports, but it was hard to believe even with seeing it in person. Their lasers were practically bouncing off the enemy armor with little effect.

Thankfully she had intel from the Third and Eighth fleets on how to deal with that, and the answer was simply to follow doctrine. Whatever the defense the enemy used, it required either distance… or time… to be employed. Closing the distance would eliminate both from their enemy’s assets and allow her superior firepower to come into play properly.

“Yes, Division Commander.”

Her ships were closing the range quickly, even as enemy fire burned through their armor. The forward ships were taking the beating, but that was fine. They’d lost two so far, and she expected to see several more drop out before the range was cut down sufficiently, but losses were to be expected.

*****

NACS Odysseus

Dark corridors echoed with howling sounds, incomprehensible, scrambled noises that almost sounded like speech if they weren’t so… wrong.

He stumbled into the bulkhead, resting for a time in his wandering, before pushing off and continuing.

*****

“Status on the core!”

“Fluctuating wildly, Ma’am. We’re trying to stabilize it, but it’s almost like it’s fighting us!”

Captain Heathe hissed, barely keeping herself from cursing up a storm.

The Commodore’s little risky trick with the core, counting on Odysseus to manipulate the core’s gravity well to shield the rest of the squadron had paid off… she thought… but the results on the Odysseus itself were… somewhat extreme.

The core was far over spec at the moment, crushing everyone in the ship under at least three gravities.

The ship was running on batteries and little else, because the core was so out of alignment with everything else that drawing power from it was akin to trying to put a tap on a lightning bolt. Which left them all trying like hell to fix a singularity core before it decided to gobble up the whole damned ship.

“Captain.”

Heathe half turned, nodding to the Commodore as he stepped onto the bridge, hands gripping at the bulkheads as he made each step deliberately and as slowly as he could manage under the immense weight he was feeling. “Sir.”

“Apologies for getting in your space,” Eric said.

“Understood, sir,” she said, knowing that with them running on emergency power and without any connections to the exterior, the flag deck wasn’t exactly the most useful place to be at the moment. “We’re trying to get a handle on the core, but it’s bucking like a pissed off bull, and we can’t quite get it tamed.”

“I understand. Do we have any contact with the squadron?”

“Negative. All exterior comms were fried by that mess,” she said. “Scanners are down. Anything that wasn’t shielded by the hull, and I mean the whole damn hull, is basically fried. Radiation inside seems to have held below lethal levels, but we’re all going to be spending time in rad recovery after this is over, if we’re lucky.”

Eric nodded unhappily.

He’d expected as much, the energy levels involved by a star going Nova… even if it were an induced explosion, which likely reduced the overall power of the blast, were not going to be exactly… nice to human bodies. He had hoped, though, that some of the comm or scanner gear might have survived, if only to let them know whether their plan had worked.

It seemed it had. the Odysseus wouldn’t be intact if it had failed… but redirecting the energies of the explosion into their singularity core was one thing on a local level. Getting Odysseus to manipulate the spacetime warp of the ship in order to shield a much larger area was the second, and also unproven, arrow in their quiver… and Eric wanted to know if that arrow had struck true.

He was a man who was used to disappointment, however, and knew how to put it aside when there was a job to be done.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a job right now.

“Thank you for the report, Captain,” Eric said simply. “I’ll leave the disposition of the ship in your capable hands.”

“Thank you, Commodore. I’ll do my best.”

“Not a doubt in my mind, Captain. Not a single one.”

*****

AEV Bellerephon

“Enemy ships approaching thirty light second perimeter!”

“Pull the drones back with the enemy line,” Roberts ordered. “Re-task them to observe and report on enemy movements.”

“Aye sir. Drones re-tasking.”

There goes our defensive advantage, he thought bitterly.

Within thirty light seconds, there was no way they’d be able to receive the intel from the drones and then update their armor before the laser blasts could reach them. Without those, he knew that the fight was about to get bloody. Close range fighting with lasers capable of vaporizing small mountains wasn’t easy on anyone involved.

“All damage control teams, get ready,” he ordered. “You’re about to get some work.”

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“Enemy ships are not maneuvering, Division Commander.”

“I see it,” Carra responded, acknowledging something that she’d been wondering about now that it was spoken aloud.

The enemy was clearly mobile, for the most part. They could have evaded, or attempted to open the distance. For whatever reason, they didn’t, which made her ask herself…

Why?

“Scan the ship at the rear of the formation,” she ordered. “Full power, maximum resolution.”

“Scanning as ordered, Division commander.”

The scan went out, the return taking little time at this close range. The results…

“Fascinating,” she said as she leaned forward. “They’re protecting it.”

The singularity core was showing readings that she’d not seen even in her worst nightmares, but the fact that the enemy wasn’t running like all the monsters of the abyss were after them told her everything she needed to know.

That must be their command cruiser, she decided. It was either that or the ship was carrying something of vital import. In either case, that made it a priority target.

“Designate the crippled vessel as a priority target,” she ordered. “Secure the region around it, but do not approach without orders… not while we’re seeing reactor issues like that.”

“Yes, Division Commander.”

*****

AEV Bellerephon

“They’re bulling through, Captain!”

“I see it. Stay on them, increase laser fire. Standby torpedoes. T-Cannons are free, fire at will!”

“Roger, skipper. Laser increase. Torpedoes standing by. T-Cannons firing.”

Everything the cruiser had, aside from the antimatter he was holding back for a little closer range sport, was pouring into the black and hammering the enemy ships. The return fire was intensifying as well, however, and damage reports were starting to flood the bridge even as he saw the squadron network light up with similar signals across the board.

“Requests from squadron, skipper. Permission to launch torpedoes.”

“Negative. Hold on those,” Roberts ordered. “Bring em in close.”

“Aye Skipper. Hold, hold, hold.”

The enemy was closing fast, but decelerating as they did, apparently intent on bringing this to a slugging match at close range. Roberts wasn’t pleased to be forced into a position where he had to indulge their idiocy, but with the Odysseus damaged and the fate of her crew unknown, he was unwilling to give up of his comrades either.

The next best thing was to maximize the effects of his weapons.

Lasers held up well over range, it was part of their design, and T-Cannons were basically effective at any range, if the enemy ships didn’t have gravity cores of course… which they all did. Torpedoes, however, were better when the enemy was just a hair too close to dodge.

So, he endured the battering and watched the numbers drop until the enemy was under ten light seconds away.

“All torpedoes… fire.”

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“Enemy weapons fire inbound!”

Carra stiffened, because she knew that the only class of enemy weapon they were likely to have any warning of was the one type that they really had no defense against.

“Brace for enemy fire!” she ordered over the new alarms.

The blazing mini stars flying at them got brighter as they closed, and she knew from the reports that was due to them annihilating bits of dust and debris along the way to do the same to her ships. They were flying fast, she knew, but the distances involved were such that she could watch the damnable things grow in size as they closed, homing in on her ships with an almost eerie pattern of motion.

She braced just before the impact and resulting annihilation of the forward section of armor and decks beneath rocked the ship with a force beyond anything she’d ever felt while on a ship.

“Damage reported. Decks Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty Two…”

Carra tuned out the droning report.

“Return fire!”

“Returning fire, Commander!”

“New contacts!”

“What?”

*****

Lasers crossed space, intersecting one another with impunity on their way to the targets. Heroic cruisers writhed in space as their Imperial counterparts burned, neither side giving any quarter as they tore each other apart with methodical brutality.

The smaller Rogues on the side of the Heroics having long since gone dark, vanishing from the screens of both sides, made a sudden reappearance now, flanking the Imperial formation as they opened fire with their own torpedoes, spitting antimatter across space as they flew a raking pass of the Imperial formation.

Flames burned in the vacuum of space, fueled by the oxygen and debris spewing from the damaged ships, lighting up a very tiny patch of the black for a brief time.

The Imperial cruisers responded, raking the passing Rogues with snap shots from their defensive beams, tearing open gashes across the lighter armor of the Destroyers in more of a reflexive action than anything planned, causing the smaller ships to trail flame, smoke, and debris as they crossed over.

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“Push through,” Carra ordered over the sound of chaos that had taken over her command deck. “I want their command!”

Her crews worked feverishly to make her orders happen as the anomalous species threw everything they had into the fight while she returned the favor right back into their faces.

The initial engagement had been brutal, but she was already seeing the density of fire dropping from the enemy.

Intelligence on the enemy weapons was right, they don’t have many of those weapons on board.

Which made sense, frankly. She wouldn’t want even one of those evil things on her ship, and any Commander who did had to be suicidal. One misstep was all it would take, and you’d be dead by your own weapon.

Space was already unforgiving enough, without adding complete conversion to energy among the risks you were taking.

With lasers once more becoming the primary weapon in the exchange, she was growing more at ease with the outcome of the fight. The enemy were good, certainly, but in this close there were limited ways to exercise any… clever inclinations. In a brutal shot for shot match like this, power always ruled.

“Slice them to shards!”

*****

AEV Bellerophon

Roberts gritted his teeth as the enemy fire redoubled, damage reports flooding in from nearly every deck and every ship in the squadron.

“Enemy vessels slowing for a relative stop to the Odysseus, Captain!”

“Damn it.” Roberts swore.

They were after the ship, maybe the crew, though that didn’t fit with Imperial doctrine as he knew it. Taking the ship, as seemingly intact as it was, however, would give the Empire an inside view of every single one of Earth’s tricks, barring Prometheus of course.

“God damnit,” he swore under his breath, hating the position he was in. “Do we have any contact with the Odysseus?”

“Negative, Sir.”

Shit. If they were killed by that blast, which seems highly likely, the smart play is to scuttle the ship and withdraw… but if anyone is left alive over there…

“Get me the Bo on a secure channel!”

“Boudicca online, to your console Sir.”

He glanced down, seeing the haggard looking face of Sandra Hyatt looking back. “I assume you see what they’re up to?”

“Heading for the Diss, I see it.” she confirmed grimly.

“We need to know if anyone is alive on that ship, Sandra.” Roberts said.

“We’ve got nothing from our shuttle yet, no signs at all, and that core is not stable. It’s over the redline, has to be pushing three, maybe four Gees on board at least. Any higher and it’ll definitely start eating the ship, Captain…” she took a deep breath, before going on more quietly, “I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t already.”

“That would solve our dilemma,” Roberts responded dryly. “But I’d rather get them off before it happens if we can.”

“Understood. We’ll find what we can.”

“Good luck. We’ll hold the line as long as possible.”

Sandra nodded briefly before killing the screen, leaving Roberts to the battle he had to fight.

“New formation orders,” He barked over the squadron, “Cover the Boudicca! Hold that line!”

*****

Chapter Twenty-Eight

AEV Boudicca

Hyatt gritted her teeth, but didn’t hesitate as she issued her next order.

“Pull back from the line of battle. Get us closer to the Odysseus.”

There were two, damned good, reasons she hated giving that order. Leaving the fight to be kept up by the rest of the squadron went against everything she personally believed in for one, but quite frankly she’d much rather be tangling with the enemy than getting anywhere near an unstable singularity.

“Aye Ma’am. Course set, power to drives… One third thruster until we clear the formation.”

“Go to full thrusters but do not warp space near the Odysseus,” she ordered firmly.

“Aye. Full thrusters, do not warp space. Aye.”

The big ship wasn’t built to handle on thrusters, not really, but it could in a pinch, burning through thousands of tons of fuel that normally just sat there, waiting for an emergency. The thrusters used Hydrogen Peroxide, mostly because in a pinch it could be broken down into oxygen if they needed it, or burned as the case dictated.

Now, it was time to burn.

The Boudicca lumbered slowly back from the formation, still taking hits on her balanced armor plating, ablating off inches of armor with every shot, assuming the beam didn’t penetrate through and burn up the interior decks.

The rest of the squadron closed ranks as they left, taking the brunt of the fire from them and relieving Sandra of the need to monitor that quite so closely. That left her free to focus on the current task.

“Put lasers on the Odysseus,” she ordered. “Look for where the armor is thin, we might be able to pick up something on the bounce back.”

“Aye ma’am.”

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

Carra watched the shift in the enemy formation with some interest as the battle continued to intensify. The single ship dropping back didn’t appear to be overly damaged, so she expected that it had been given an alternate mission that involved the derelict vessel behind their formation.

It’s as important as I believed then, she thought. Good.

“Detach the Grace and our escorts from the assault,” she directed. “We’ll push through and secure the target while the rest of the Division handles the bulk of the enemy.”

“Yes, Commander. Orders being dispatched now.”

The enemy line was strong, particularly in the face of the devastation that their negative matter assault had wrought on her ships, but her own was more than up to the task barring any unexpected surprises brought upon by the anomalous group’s twisted minds.

The Grace broke ranks, accelerating through the fighting and into a gap in the enemy line, of which there were plenty of course… space being what it was, if a ship wanted to get through, it was getting through unless you flat out destroyed it or had a sufficient volume of fire to saturate a local area of space.

The enemy here had neither capability, at least not in the time permitted them.

With the Grace through the line of battle, there was only one cruiser left between them and securing their target.

“Destroy them,” she ordered coldly as the target vessel was centered in their firing reticles.

“Yes, Division Commander.”

*****

AEV Boudicca

Hyatt held on as the ship shook under her, the violent shaking the result of gas and debris being spewed out into space as part of the ship depressurized under the assault of the enemy vessel.

“Goddamn it! Return fire!” she ordered, turning her focus from the fight briefly. “Do we have anything from the Odysseus?”

“Possibly, Ma’am, but nothing definite yet.”

Shit.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she would be happier with confirmation that the crew was alive or dead at this point. The fight was swinging against them, there was no question of that now, and if the Odysseus was lost then the decision going forward became a straightforward one.

Scuttle the ship and warp for open space.

She wasn’t willing to do that if there was any chance left of saving the crew, however.

“Get me confirmation one way or the other, and get it now,” she snapped. “Tell the shuttle to do whatever they have to, we’re out of time for mucking around.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am!”

*****

Iceni One

“Orders received.”

Mash wasn’t happy about his orders, but that was the job sometimes, he supposed.

“Ok, we’re going in a little closer,” he said. “Look for anything you can find in there that might be a sign of life. The armor is shielding most of our scanners, of course, but hell… if we have to, I’ll bump the nose of this bitch into it and tap out morse code.”

His co-pilot gave him a look of near terror at that thought. Not that he blamed the man, but Mash was desperate enough then that he would do it if he had to.

“Right,” His co-pilot said, returning to his task. “Odysseus, any station, this is Iceni One. Please Copy. Say again, Odysseus, any station, this is Iceni One. Please Copy.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

The darkness thrummed, like a heartbeat, a living thing that seemed to want to consume everything in the universe if given the chance.

He strained against it, trying to tame the beast, but the best he could manage was a grinding slow down of its pace.

Odysseus.

It was a name, he thought. It meant something.

He… couldn’t remember.

That was… wrong somehow. He always remembered. Everything.

Why couldn’t he remember?

*****

Eric wanted nothing more than to sit in the corner and do little other than breathe as deeply and deliberately as he possibly could, but he forced himself to stand straight as he stood there behind the captain’s chair and lent his presence to Heathe’s actions.

It was all he could do at the moment; Miram knew what she had to do, and it was her job to determine how to accomplish it. He was… window dressing at best, ballast was honestly a more realistic descriptor, but that was how it worked sometimes.

The guy in charge didn’t always have anything he could do… other than take the responsibility if it all went wrong.

Eric wasn’t sure if that was the point they were at, though it certainly felt like it.

Maybe the maneuver had worked, though, maybe the squadron was intact. If so, then they’d succeeded. Nothing else would take that from them, even if they didn’t live to find out. Nothing he could do would change anything then, though, so silent, and supportive was the goal.

“Ma’am, there’s something strange as hell with the core.”

That brought his attention, along with everyone else’s, to the speaker. The Engineering Mate quailed slightly under the sudden attention, but Eric didn’t have much pity for him. You don’t drop a bomb like that on people in this situation and get ignored.

“Clarify that, please, Mr. Brobeck,” Miram enunciated her order very precisely as she too stared at him.

Engineering Mate Brobeck swallowed, but managed to stiffen up his spine under the intense scrutiny, “Ma’am, unless the instruments are completely out of alignment, we’re registering several times the planetary masses in the core compared to what would put out this level of gravity.”

Mirram snorted, “Then your instruments are clearly wrong. We can feel the effects, Mr. Brobeck, and we’ve not been crunched into a singularity yet…”

That we know of, Eric thought grimly but very, very carefully did not say aloud.

The effects of time dilation that close to an intense gravity field weren’t exactly well documented per se, but they were very thoroughly calculated. It was within the realm of possibility that the Odysseus had already collapsed within the event horizon of the core, and they just didn’t know it.

Literally thousands of years could have gone on while they stumbled around under three Gees of acceleration, thinking they had a chance to escape despite already being dead a long time past as far as the universe was concerned.

He didn’t say it, of course, because that would be a useless thing to say, doing nothing more than destroying what little morale they had. At best, destroying people’s minds by showing them the inevitable with no reason… at worst, if they weren’t crunched up yet, it might slow them down just enough to make the prophecy self predicting.

“I… don’t think it’s an instrumentation problem, Ma’am,” Brobeck managed to say, with a surprisingly level of firmness. “One set? Sure. Two? Ok, maybe… but all of them? To the same degree?”

Miram nodded slowly, “That does sound unusual, I’ll admit. Ideas?”

Brobeck looked uncomfortable, and downright miserable, at being put on the spot and in a flash. Eric knew what idea he was going to put forth, and there was no chance in hell he was going to let the man say it.

“Odysseus.” Eric said, cutting the man off, shooting him a glare that caused Brobeck to collapse fully back in his seat. “It has to be.”

“The entity?” Miram snapped, swivelling to look at him.

Honestly, Eric had no clue, but either it was Odysseus saving them all… somehow… or they were already beyond the event horizon. In either case, only one of the answers led to a constructive direction.

“Yes, he has influence over the core,” Eric said. “He’s alive.”

“That’s a lovely idea, Sir, but…”

“I’m going to find him,” Eric said, turning carefully and stepping with deliberate motions as he headed for the back of the command deck. “Keep working the problem from this end. Brobeck?”

“Commodore?” The Engineering mate looked in his direction, eyes wide.

“Good work. You might have just given us what we need to get out of this,” Eric said as warmly as he could muster. “Brilliant analysis.”

“But I… I thought…”

“Brilliant. Analysis. Take the compliment, Brobeck.” Eric said sternly. And shut the fuck up.

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eric nodded curtly before he stepped through the door.

“That goes for all of you. Damn fine work.”

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“Press the assault, no mercy for the enemy.”

Carra leaned forward in her command station, eyes on the battle as it progressed. The battles, really.

Behind them, the Division was hammering, and being hammered if she were to be honest, but definitely giving more than they were getting at the moment, as they should be.

The ship in front of them was fighting back viciously. They had apparently saved a couple of the negative matter weapons for her specially, and Carra knew that the front of her ship was bleeding atmosphere like an arterial wound, but it wasn’t enough to stop them.

In return they’d inflicted just as much on the enemy between her Grace and the escorts along with them.

“Escort Nine just exploded!”

How are they doing that?

Carra growled, “Did we detect the weapon fire?”

“Negative, Captain, same as the previous losses… the explosion came from inside the escort destroyer.”

This is becoming… tedious.

At first, she’d honestly thought that she would need to have… words… with the maintenance crews who’d last checked over her ships’ systems, but this was beyond incompetence. It had to be enemy action.

“Analysts, scour every reading we have, I want to know how they’re doing that,” she snapped. “Until then, however, press the attack!”

*****

AEV Boudicca

“Enemy is pressing forward, Ma’am. We took out another of their destroyers with the T-Cannons, but none of our shots at the main cruiser materialized properly.”

“Understood. Forget the cruiser. All cannons target the destroyers,” Hyatt ordered. “Clear them from my sky.”

“Aye Ma’am!”

“Ma’am! They’re targeting our reactor core!”

“Maneuver around, put fresh armor between the singularity and those lasers!”

The last thing she wanted was for their reactor to destabilize too. One was more than enough, thank you very much.

“Thrusters sluggish, Ma’am, I think we’re losing pressure in the fuel tanks.”

She bit down on a curse, knowing that it wouldn’t help even if it might feel really damn good.

“Warp space,” she snapped. “We’ll have to chance it!”

“Warping space, Aye Ma’am!”

She held on to her console as the ship seemed to shift around her. They weren’t moving yet, but the warping of space caused everything to tilt as the geometry of spacetime shifted and they all began to ‘fall’ toward a new center of gravity.

“Enemy is pressing in, Ma’am!”

“Point defense!”

“We’re being surrounded!”

Hyatt gritted her teeth, eyes on the telemetry as the enemy ships pushed in closer, closing the distance to a few thousand kilometers and narrowing even that gap fast.

If they take us, there’s nothing to cover the Odysseus. Alive or dead, there are too many secrets on that ship to leave to the enemy.

“Final defensive fire!” she snapped, decision made.

There was a brief hesitation, less than a second, but she felt it as it rippled through her crew.

“Final defensive fire, Aye Skipper!” Her XO snapped. “T-Cannons, lock, and load! Go to full military power and fire rate! Lasers, safeties off! Jam the breakers open, I want a direct tap on the core fed right to the beam emitters! Tokamak control, get me more antimatter!”

If the Bo survives this, it’ll be one hell of a story to tell, Sandra thought grimly as her command crew snapped into action, falling into their training even as their minds rebelled at the order she’d given.

Final Defensive Fire lifted all the safety systems from their weapons, which was bad enough with the laser tapping right into the core, but the nuclear warheads on the T-Cannons would have to be pre-armed now, and the less said about antimatter generation the better.

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

“By everything holy, what in the abyss!”

Carra didn’t know who said it, but she didn’t have either the time or inclination to find out either. Every scanner they had just exploded into alarms, and screaming sirens, and various other urgent sounds… about half of which she was certain she’d never even heard before.

The ship they’d pushed into had just erupted with weapons fire the likes of which gave her shivers even as the beams melted the hull of the grace and carved massive gouges through her superstructure.

They must be running a direct feed from the core. Damn. I did not think they were that insane.

Laser systems weren’t designed to take that kind of power, and they should have blown out in less than a second, so either the enemy had better lasers than the Empire, by a great degree, or they’d just deliberately jammed open every system and were burning their own weapons out.

She was inclined to believe the second.

That was bad enough, but in the passage of just instants nearly all her escorts had erupted in explosions that were still completely unexplained.

The only bright side was that they hadn’t managed to throw up any more of those damned negative matter weapons, but she had a bad feeling that was just a matter of time.

“Increase fire,” she ordered. “Clear safeties on our lasers, burn them out if needs be, but I want that ship incapacitated now!”

*****

Chapter Twenty-Nine

NACS Odysseus

Finding Odysseus was not a problem Eric was used to dealing with. Normally the entity was omnipresent within the spacetime warp of the ship’s power core.

His only hope was that Odysseus was so focused on keeping the core from sucking everything in, that his attention was completely taken up by the task. That was bad, of course, but it was better than them already being inside the event horizon of an artificial black hole.

Staggering, he made his way through the decks of the big ship, his knees screaming with each step in three gravities. Eric knew that his joints were not going to forgive him for this, assuming he lived long enough for them to start showing the added wear he was putting on them, but he just focused on not falling and breaking half the bones in whatever side of him hit the decks.

Carrying a little over six hundred pounds was just a little more than his body was rated to handle.

Especially at my age.

He didn’t let it stop him, though, as much as he couldn’t keep it from slowing him down. Others were clearly not so lucky, and he passed more than a few of his crew slammed down on the deck, some with broken bones, most with sprains or just plain exhaustion, unable to move.

Eric didn’t bother with them other than to nod weakly at them in passing and press on.

He didn’t have the time to worry about the individuals. As much as he hated it, he needed to worry about the crew.

The pull of the core got stronger as he closed on the engineering decks, and he honestly wasn’t sure how much more his body could take, but Eric figured he’d stop when something broke. Or crawl when something broke more likely.

“Odysseus.” he called out. “I hope you can hear me, because if you can’t all this pain is for nothing and I hate suffering for nothing.”

Eric ignored the looks he was getting as he slammed more than slumped into the bulkhead that separated the corridor from the main engineering deck dedicated to the power core and clumsily hit the door release.

It unlocked and started to open, but ground a bit before coming to a stop, forcing him to sigh and reach out with his bare hands and pull.

Between his leverage and the door’s actuators, Eric managed to pry it open enough to slip in and look around.

Like on the bridge, pretty much everyone was in seats. Almost all the work they did was handled by remotes here anyway; it was just too dangerous to get near most of the equipment that actually powered the vessel.

“Cap… I mean, Commodore, what are you doing here?”

Eric waved off the Chief, “As you were. Just playing a hunch, don’t mind me.”

“Ah… Yes sir?”

Eric ignored the uncertain tone, making his way instead to where he could see the shielding that surrounded the core. There he leaned heavily against the rail that prevented anyone from getting too close to the internal workings that kept the big ship in power.

“Odysseus. I need to speak with you.” he said, panting as he did. He could feel sweat running down his body, trickling under his uniform as he strained to stay on his feet, no longer feeling like a commodore. He was the captain again, in his mind at least, speaking to the soul of his ship as he had many times in the past. “Please.”

He just hoped it spoke back this time.

*****

Odysseus.

The word echoed, reverberated, around him in the darkness as he slumped against the tilting deck and off canter wall.

That was his name.

Why couldn’t he… remember?

I need you to speak with you.

He knew that voice.

It belonged to… To…

Someone.

Please.

He couldn’t be distracted. He knew that. If he didn’t keep this beast tamed, it would destroy… them?

Who was them?

Why was he…

He reached out, blindly.

*****

Eric slumped when no answer came, uncertain as to what else he could do. If he was right, if his hope was right, the only thing keeping them alive wasn’t speaking to them right now. He didn’t know what he could do past that.

A sound echoed around him, like the groaning of the dead in a horror film, and every hair on the nape of his neck stood up as Eric looked around.

“Did anyone…” he trailed off, not needing to finish his question.

Everyone in the room looked like they’d heard a ghost, looked like he felt. It was not a comforting sight, seeing the Engineering crew as pasty white and afraid as they clearly were.

He swallowed.

“Odysseus, it’s Eric,” he ground out. “Please tell me that’s you.”

The sound, again, sent shivers up his back. This time he heard something deep in the harmonic of the noise.

He heard his name.

“It’s him!” Eric forced himself straight, eyes blazing as he realized without anymore doubts that he’d guessed wildly but correctly, “Odysseus, we need to get the core under control! What can we do to help?”

No noise came for a long moment, and he almost felt despair climbing again before it again shook the air around him as he strained to hear the message in the noise.

“I didn’t get it,” Eric said, looking around with wide eyes. “Odysseus, I don’t understand!”

When nothing happened, he looked over to the chief and the others.

“Please tell me one of you understood something in that!”

*****

Iceni One

Mash stared at his readings in flat out shock.

“How in the fuck is that ship not about two millimeters across right now?” He demanded, his jaw hanging loose.

“Not a clue, boss, but something is keeping it together.”

That was the understatement of the year, possibly the millennia, he supposed.

Frustration warred with incredulity as he stared at the data, completely unable to understand what in the hell was going on but knowing that he didn’t need this shit right at that moment. The Bo was deep shit, and that meant He was in deep trouble, and their entire reason for getting the fuck out of said trouble was a ship that, quite frankly, shouldn’t even exist according to his scans.

The core was registering way past the measly three gravities it was putting out, which made some sense in a few ways and absolutely no sense at all in every other way imaginable.

“Ok, they opened the core to the Nova,” he said aloud, trying to get his head wrapped around it. “And used the drive warp to pull in the shock front, which shielded the squadron. I get that. That resulted in the core being massively over the redline in terms of masses, which checks out so far… but how in Christ is the core only at three gravities while registering at… what? Thirty?”

“Easily, and I don’t know, but I think I found a comm tap.”

“What? Where?” Mash asked, stunned again. Everything they’d checked thus far had been burned out by the Nova.

“Shielded backup. It’s under about three meters of armor, but the carrier signal might be there…”

Mash snorted, “Doesn’t do a lot of good unless we can get the armor plate moved. Alright, let’s get in closer.”

The look of sheer terror his co-pilot shot him would have been amusing under most circumstances, but he was barely keeping from pissing his hard suit’s diapers as well, which kinda sucked the humor out of things.

“Get on the Arm.”

“You got it.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

“Captain,” The communications officer managed to get out the word between pants and clenched teeth. “We’ve got something…”

“What is it, Ensign?” Heath said. “Just spit it out.”

“Not sure, it looks like… hang on… I’m getting a comm signal!”

“Put it up!”

“Aye Ma’am.”

“One. I say again… Odysseus, Iceni One.”

“Iceni One, Odysseus,” Miram gasped out. “Good to hear your voice.”

There was a brief silence from the line, leaving her worried that they’d lost the connection, but then the comm came back.

“Glad you’re all still kicking in there,” Iceni One responded, though she noted that he didn’t sound… exactly… glad.

“Nobody’s kicking Iceni One, not at three gravs, but most of us are breathing. What’s the situation?”

“Not good. Enemy forces have pushed the attack,” Iceni One responded. “Bell and the others are holding the line for now, but one broke through and is engaging the Bo. They’re getting chewed up.”

Miram scowled, “I’m grateful for the cover, Iceni One, but if it’s that bad…”

“We’re not loving the situation, Ma’am, but we’re not abandoning the King either,” Iceni One snapped back. “What do you need to get mobile again?”

“Iceni One, we’re right on the edge of a total core collapse. Frankly, we should already be about a cubic millimeter or so across. I doubt you have anything that can help.”

She grimaced, looking across at the crew who were looking like they were trying very hard not to look like they were listening in. They were all great people, and she hated the conclusion she was coming to, but there were a lot of great people out there at risk.

“Iceni One, get back to the Bo and tell Sandra I said to get the hell out of here,” Miram ordered. “If the enemy wants us, well it’ll keep them off you. If they follow you, then you’ll have a hell of a lot better chance running and gunning and going toe to toe with the Empire out here.”

“Ma’am…”

“That’s an Ord…”

“Captain.”

Heath stiffened, recognizing the voice coming over the comm.

“Commodore?”

“We have a plan.”

*****

In Engineering Eric looked around, eyes sweeping faces.

“Please tell me someone caught that.”

They all looked helpless, but the Chief leaned into his system.

“Can’t say I did, but the recordings might have,” he said, isolating the files from the room for a few minutes earlier.

They all shuddered as they heard the sound again, but as it played again and again, slower and through noise scrubbers, Eric leaned in.

“There, did you hear that?”

“Too much mass… well no shit,” The Chief snorted. “We could have told him that.”

“Ok, fine, but can we do anything to deplete the core?”

“Sitting here? Like what, Sir?” The Chief asked, shaking his head. “We can’t warp space, not with the core in this state. If we didn’t crunch from that, I’d eat the ship. We don’t have anything that’ll drain power anywhere near fast enough.”

That was a problem Eric had honestly never expected to have. Normally they had to worry about the opposite, running the core so light that the singularity evaporated and left them sucking vacuum.

“What about the lasers?” he asked, grasping at straws.

The Chief laughed, “We could fire those for a month and not significantly impact the level of energy we’re dealing with.”

“Ok… lift the safeties,” Eric said. “We’ll jam the breakers open, put everything we can through them.”

“You’d turn the conduits into vapor in a minute, sir.”

“There has to be something. We don’t care about efficiency. Replace the conduits with something that will take it.”

“No way, Commodore. We could drop a meter thick line of pure Tungsten Carbide in there and it would be turned to plasma in minutes, if we were lucky. There’s no way…”

“What about plasma?”

The Chief and Eric both turned, eyes falling on a young Engineering Mate who was now looking like a rabbit caught in a trap as they looked at her.

“What?” Eric asked simply.

“The energy, it’ll turn any conduit we could build into plasma, so what if we skip the conduit and just use plasma straight out?” she asked nervously. “Ionized plasma will conduct the energy from the core, and it’s not like it can get any more plasma-fied, right?”

“Chief?” Eric asked, looking back.

“Um… give me a second…” The Chief said, thinking furiously.

“We don’t have a lot of those,” Eric prodded.

“We’ll need containment,” The Chief said. “Magnetic units, powerful.”

“The Tokamak, Sir.” The Mate suggested.

“And the antimatter containment units, we can strip those and repurpose…” The Chief nodded. “Ok… maybe.”

“Good. Good,” Eric said, reaching for the comms and opening a channel. “Captain?”

“Commodore?”

“We have a plan.”

*****

Chapter Thirty

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

Carra let out a satisfied breath as she watched the target cruiser heel over, almost flopping in space in a sure-fire sign that it had lost control over its warp field. The level of fire it had unloaded on her ship had left her own Grace in hardly any better condition, and none of her escorts were still intact, something she’d not even have believed that a single cruiser could manage in so short a time.

In terms of firepower the enemy was a devastating foe, that much was certain, but their vessels still lacked the brute force of an Imperial war vessel.

They do make up for it, and then some, with their little tricks, however.

The extra firepower her escorts had brought to the field before they were destroyed had been what tipped the scales, though, and she had no doubt that the enemy would have been the victor if it had been a one-on-one battle.

Which makes this fight far too close for my comfort. No battle should be fair enough that the enemy has a chance of victory, else you have truly been incompetent.

“Enemy cruiser… power levels fluctuating, they’re losing core stability, Division Commander.”

“Finally,” she snarled. “Our own weapon status?”

“We’ve lost almost eight of ten beam emitters, and the remaining ones are almost all badly damaged, Division Commander.”

Carra winced.

She’d hadn’t believed that she could take such a beating from a single ship, despite all the reports. It was unreal.

“Dispatch repair teams immediately,” she ordered. “I want estimated time to effect repairs as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Division Commander.”

“In the meantime, isolate open spots in their armor,” she ordered. “Let us make short work of this and move on to the prize.”

*****

Iceni One

“The Bo is badly hit, sir. She’s venting atmo well past renewable levels, and her warp fields are down.”

Mash swore under his breath.

We got this far, found out that there were even survivors, and now the Bo is going to pay for it. Damn these bastards. Like blowing up a fucking star wasn’t good enough for them?

“Understood,” he said aloud. “Stay on mission.”

“Aye sir.”

There wasn’t really much more they could do at this point, really. Anything else would just make all the sacrifices made thus far a waste, and he wouldn’t do that to the fallen.

“Communication from the Odysseus, Sir. Compressed flash traffic, to your station.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, pulling up the message.

Compressing text was a lot more economical than voice, if you were on a budget, bandwidth wise, so he wasn’t surprised that they’d sent him an update over the flash traffic system. It did take a moment to load it up and skim the message before he blinked and stared again.

“They want to what?”

“Sir?”

“Never mind, Lieutenant. Either they’ve lost their minds, or I have, but what the fuck. Not like we have anything to lose right now.” Mash responded. “Signal receipt, ask them how we can help.”

“Aye.”

*****

AEV Boudicca

Hyatt swore as she coughed and tried to wave smoke from her face, but whisps of it were licking across the bridge from some fuse that had blown violently when an energy backlash had traveled through the system and nearly fried the weapon control systems.

“Do we have anything left?” she demanded, staggering over to the system that was only now starting to reboot from auxiliary power.

“Checking, Ma’am, but it doesn’t look like it. Lasers burned out, emitters fried, power conduits are slag if they’re not vapor. T-Cannons are intact, but we’re dry of everything but kinetic kill shells and those won’t do a thing to that beast.”

Hyatt winced, but nodded in agreement. The Double K shells were limited to the speed they could achieve within the ship’s accelerators before the transition cannons sent them on their way. More than enough to hammer the hell out of most foes, but the Imperial cruisers were proving to be a lot tougher than they’d been properly designed for.

She didn’t even bother to ask about the antimatter torpedoes. If they had any of those left, well she doubted that containment would still be intact, and they wouldn’t have a ship in that case.

“Shit.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

He didn’t need to agree so easily, she thought wryly.

“Alright, well we’re not going take this lying down if we can help it,” she grumbled, retreating to her command station and getting her repeater running so she could see what kind of a mess she was really dealing with.

Warp fields are out, no chance of repair in the time we might have. Thrusters… not exactly running any bells, but we still have some pressure in the tanks. No weapons to speak of, but we can make something out of this shit sandwich. One way or another…

“Signal evacuation alerts,” she ordered. “Remaining thrusters to my station.”

“Evacuation, Aye,” The XO called out as the alarms began sounding. “Thrusters to the Captain’s station, Aye.”

“Get everyone off my bridge,” Hyatt ordered. “Including yourself, Daniel. This is my ride.”

Daniel Briggs, her XO, glared at her.

“Respectfully, Ma’am,” he said. “I think I’ll stay. Not much chance of getting picked up out there if the Bo goes critical anyway.”

She snorted, knowing that was the truth.

“Suit yourself. I’m not going to waste time arguing,” she told him, raising her voice as she looked around, “Anyone who wants off this barge, better move now.”

Her crew just turned back to their stations, leaving her to smile a bit sadly.

“Dumb bastards,” she whispered. “Alright, let’s do this. Thrusters to my stick, I have the conn.”

“Aye Ma’am. You have the Conn.”

Thumbing the controls, Sandra Hyatt set the big ship into lumbering motion, burning the last of their thruster fuel as quickly as the system would let her.

The Boudicca began to move, creeping through space toward the enemy.

*****

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

Carra lifted an eyebrow in amusement, and a little bit of respect if she were to dig deep.

“They’re actually trying to ram us?” she asked.

“Trajectory analysis confirms, yes Division Commander.”

“Status of our drives?” she asked mildly.

“Damaged, Ma’am, but somewhat functional.”

“Evade then,” she ordered, shaking her head.

It was a brave maneuver, perhaps, but too little and far too late. Though had they been able to inflict just a little more damage to the right systems, well that might have resulted in a different ending, she supposed.

“Evading, Ship’s Commander.”

With the warp systems operations, even in their limited capacity, there really was no chance that the crippled vessel could mount an intercept course, however.

“Target their thrusters,” she said, a smile curling up her lips. “Minimal force. Cripple them.”

“Yes, Ship’s Commander. Targeting thrusters.”

*****

AEV Boudicca

Sandra swore as another pulse of precision fire blew out one of the aft port thrusters, forcing her to fight to compensate as she tried to get the big ship back on course.

“It’s no good, Ma’am. They still have warp manipulation online. We can’t catch them with thrusters.”

“I’m not trying to catch them,” she snarled. “I’m just looking to get close enough. Rig the singularity controls to blow while I fly this pig, would you, Daniel?”

He looked at her, eyes wide for a moment, before he nodded jerkily.

“Aye Ma’am.”

He looked around, noting the eyes staring at them both.

“You heard the skipper! Get to work.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Working in three gravities sucked.

Doing precision work that needed micrometer level alignment in three gravities sucked in ways Eric never again wanted to experience. They’d grabbed every swinging crewman they could, some of them barely able to crawl at this point, and had them ripping pieces out of the Tokamak they used to generate Antimatter, and again out of the antimatter containment units used to house pulse torpedoes prior to being fired.

From there, they dragged the multi ton pieces of equipment through multiple decks, ripping out conduit as they did and replacing it with a jury-rigged line of magnetic containment units linked end to end like some nightmare mad scientist's plot to conquer the planet.

Eric violently rubbed sweat from his eyes after heaving one last time to drop another unit in place, engineers coming along behind him to do the fine tuning and alignment.

“What’s next?” he asked, looking around.

“Just take it easy, Sir, it’s on us now,” the Engineering Mate said from beside him. “That was the last of the units, we’ll get them aligned.”

“Good. I don’t know if I could do another,” Eric admitted tiredly as he slumped in place.

The Engineer snorted beside him, not looking up, “If you had to, I wouldn’t bet against you, skipper.”

Eric shook his head, “I’m not the skipper anymore, Jackson.”

“I served on the Odyssey, Sir. You’ll always be the skipper.”

He let it go, didn’t have the energy for a pointless argument at that point, like the rest of the crew laying splayed out around them.

They’d left a trail of bodies from main engineering all the way to the forward laser emitters in the beams rooms, no one dead thank God, but plenty passed out from exhaustion and he wasn’t certain that they’d be able to take the enhanced gravity much longer.

Eric was having a lot of trouble breathing under the weight now, and he knew others were in worse shape.

“That’s done it,” Jackson said, triple checking his readings before he hit the com at his side. “Chief, Jackson. Last one is in; you can flood the system now.”

“Roger Jackson. Take a step back, just in case.”

“You got it, Sir.”

“Don’t sir me, Jackson.”

Jackson smirked, but didn’t answer as he pushed off the conduit.

“Time to move, Skipper.”

Eric groaned, but rolled over and started to push himself up. He got a bit past his knees before slumping back down, barely able to move.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” Jackson grabbed him by the arm and heaved, pulling Eric up as he struggled to his feet.

With Jackson helping, the pair limped away from the containment units as they heard a hiss from the system.

“That’s the Plasma filling the system,” Jackson said, glancing back. “Looks like it’s holding.”

“Good. Pass me… comm…” Eric gasped out.

Jackson nodded, and Eric took the device, keying into the bridge.

“Captain… we’re ready.”

*****

“Thank God,” Miram muttered, before she nodded to those looking back at her. “Prime the lasers.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

“Send to Iceni One,” she ordered. “Odysseus is preparing to fire lasers. Request safe targeting vector.”

“Roger that, Ma’am.”

She took a breath, Here’s hoping this works.

*****

Iceni One

“Jesus, the Bo… she’s trying to ram them, isn’t she sir?”

Mash nodded, “Looks like.”

Life pods were scattered around the area now, their beacons going off from all vectors, and all he could do was look on helplessly. Even if his shuttle could take flying into that maelstrom of a fight, he couldn’t retrieve more than a couple of them before stressing life support past any sane measure.

“Flash traffic from Odysseus, sir.”

Now? Really?

Mash sighed, but didn’t have anything else productive he could reasonably be doing, so he called it up and read the short message quickly.

“Firing what? Are they high on something?” he mumbled, automatically checking firing vectors even as he did.

“What was that sir?”

“The Odysseus wants to fire their weapons.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, they just ask for a safe vector.”

His co-pilot snorted, “Safe vector? Just dump whatever they have on the enemy ship.”

Not a bad idea, Mash thought, getting those vectors called up. “Good plan. Flash traffic, send back to Odysseus.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Miram read the short message quickly, nodding at the additional information.

“We have firing data,” she announced, sending it off to the fire controls. “Iceni One has provided vector solutions for the closest enemy ship. Might as well get some use out of all of this.”

“Yes Ma’am. Firing solution loaded. We’re ready to bust a cap.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother commenting on that as chuckles rolled around the bridge.

“Engineering, are we hot?” she demanded.

“Bridge, we are radioactive.”

“Roger that. Fire control… let them have it.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

*****

Eric looked up, his exhaustion nearly doing him out as he propped himself against the bulkhead, the whine from the containment conduit pulling his attention.

“It’s heating up,” Jackson said beside him.

“How much can it take?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson said honestly. “The old conduit? Maybe eight hundred, nine hundred degrees before it started to slag out. This? Well, without cooling those magnetic containment systems won’t last much last a few hundred degrees, but we’ve got cryo pipes all over the bastards, and the heat transfer from the plasma won’t be as efficient either. Radiative heating sucks ass compared to conduction. So… no idea how much we can pour into that before it blows us all to hell. Should be fun finding out.”

Eric looked over at the man, someone he barely remembered from the Odyssey, and snorted.

“Well, I can see why you were stupid enough to sign up with me again after the Odyssey went down,” he said finally. “You’re as nuts as anyone I’ve ever served with.”

“Coming from you, Skipper? That’s a compliment.”

*****

From the impossible depts of the Odysseus’ core, a direct tap into the radiative loss of the relatively weak singularity suddenly opened up a new, direct, path of least resistance for the energy that had been forcibly contained by the efforts of the technology, and Odysseus himself, and all of that roiling, angry, power tore out through the gap in a rush measured in thousands of metric tons of mass per second… all of it travelling through an untested conduit that, if officially rated, would only be measured in a fraction of a fraction of that power.

A maelstrom hit the emitter lenses at the front of the Odysseus’ bow, boiling out into space in a fury unlike anything describable.

Less than a light second away, the Imperial ship it was all targeted toward didn’t even have a chance to realize the threat.

*****

Chapter Thirty-One

Division Cruiser Rising Grace

Carra leaned in, smiling as the last of the enemy thrusters were disabled. They’d led her crew on an amusing little chase, it was true, but the end result was inevitable.

“Orders, Division Commander?” the fire control officer asked, hands hovering over the controls.

“Let them suffer a while,” she said, amused. “They can see what’s coming.”

The enemy had gotten close to her position as she had danced her vessel around their thruster attempts, idly sniping the drive units away one at a time until the ship was left drifting in place. They were stubborn, she would give them that without reservation. However, stubbornness and bravery only got you so far, and power was what truly counted in war.

“Division Commander… I’m reading something…”

“What is it?” she asked, languidly looking over at the Analyst in charge of monitoring various non-critical aspects of ship’s operation and scanner feeds.

“I think it’s the enemy’s core, Division Commander, but it’s hard to…”

Carra scowled, pushing herself up and walked over, “Show me.”

“Here,” he said, turning the screen in her direction. “See the twists in spacetime? It’s not from us, but I thought their drive was down…”

“It is…” She trailed off, a cold chill hitting her as she recognized the readings. “Full power to warp! Pull us back from the enemy ship! Pull us b-!”

“Division Commander! Energy spike!”

“I said get back from the enemy, now!”

“Not from them! From the derel-!”

Carra turned, confused, eyes on the screen as she looked at the screen that had been monitoring the dead ship where it drifted. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there, not as best she could tell…

And then the screen went white before dying, and she felt more than heard something as it rumbled through the deck.

“What in the aby…”

Her words vanished into a maelstrom as she, her crew, and her entire vessel dissolved directly into plasma as a beam of power so intense cut through them that in mere seconds there was nothing by expanding vapor and small scraps of flotsam left from the fringes where the Imperial ship had once been.

*****

AEV Boudicca

“Time to find out what Hell looks like you bastards,” Hyatt swore under her breath as she triggered the sequence to destabilize the core and take out the Boudicca and, hopefully, the enemy ship in one go.

They felt the shift almost immediately as the warping of spacetime on board changed, making her and the others hold on as everything felt like it was writhing around them.

A sense of calm had settled over her and everyone else, she found. The decision made, action taken, all they had to do now was… wait. It was shockingly easy.

Or, it should have been.

“Captain!”

“Yes, what is it, Ensign?”

“Energy build up from the Odysseus, Ma’am.”

Well, that’s a note to go out on, she thought wearily. “What sort of…”

“Holy FUCKING hell.”

She was about to snap about decorum, mostly on reflex, but Hyatt’s eyes caught sight of the screen that had elicited the response.

“That can’t be real…”

She didn’t know who said it, might even have been her, because she was sure as hell thinking it.

A beam of unimaginable power had just cut through space, and then through the enemy warship like a blowtorch through a box of matches.

In seconds, the threat she’d sacrificed her ship to eliminate was gone, and Sandra felt the blood just drop from her face.

Oh fuck. She cast her eyes down, trying to reverse what she’d done, but saw in an instant it was too late. The core had already gone critical.

“Comm band opening up, Odysseus on the line!”

The communication was voice only, and crackling like she hadn’t heard since the last time she watched an old period movie about World War Two, but it was understandable.

“Boudicca, Odysseus… do you copy?”

“Odysseus, Boudicca copies…” she said, taking a breath. “Our reactor is critical! You have to pull back from the area now! Say again, withdraw at best speed now! Copy.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Miram shifted upright in her seat, already feeling some of the weight she’d been carrying seem to melt off, though she supposed that might just be from the adrenaline surge she just felt.

“They’re reactor what?” she blurted; eyes wide. What the fuck did we miss?

Her mouth was already moving on its own, however.

“Do we have core control back?” she demanded. “Can we warp space?”

“Maybe, Ma’am…”

“Do it!”

“No.”

The calm voice startled them all, and she half twisted to see Odysseus appear in his oldest form, that of a young man in ancient armor, with something of a penchant for makeup.

“Odysseus, welcome back,” Miram said. “But we have to move away from…”

“No.” He shook his head. “We need to get closer.”

“That’s insa…”

“Ma’am! Warp field forming… we’re moving toward the Bo!”

“What? Reverse course!”

“It’s not our warp system Ma’am! The core is twisting on its own!”

Miram twisted, eyes on Odysseus, “Odysseus, if their core destabilizes…”

“It won’t,” He smiled at her. “Trust me. I’ll be right back.”

He vanished from the bridge, leaving her feeling a twisting knife in her gut as she stared at the place he’d been.

*****

AEV Boudicca

The lower decks of the ship were all but empty as Odysseus appeared on them, walking at the very edge of his influence as it moved along with the approach of the ship.

The core up ahead could be felt, its influence attempting to twist him up, but he’d learned a lot while keeping the Odysseus’ core from swallowing the ship whole. Lessons he now intended to put to use. As the edge of his influence reached the central beam of Engineering, Odysseus reached out and took a grip on the wildly fluctuating core and… squeezed.

Pouring his own power into the mass, he felt strain unlike anything he’d ever known until recently, but he’d learned about fighting through that kind of strain while his crew had fought for him and themselves.

Odysseus could do no less.

*****

“Ma’am…”

“What is it?” Sandra asked tiredly as she watched the Odysseus close on her ship despite all warnings.

“The core is settling; it’s becoming stable again.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know.”

She slumped back in her station for a brief moment, but training took over.

“Alright,” she said. “Get the core locked back down then, and begin recovery operations as soon as we’ve confirmed it’s stable. We have crew to get back on board.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

*****

NACS Odysseus

Eric quietly looked over the scene as he considered the casualty lists with a universe weary mind.

Roberts and the rest of the squadron had been ravaged, but had given more than as good as they got up until the sudden loss of the enemy’s command ship to the Odysseus’ massively overpowered laser had taken the wind from their sails.

They’d fought a little bit longer, up until the Odysseus had potted two more ships while struggling to get its overloaded core down to safe levels. After that it was all over. The Empire broke and ran.

Again.

And again.

How much longer can we do this? He thought darkly.

Victory seemed to taste more bitter every time it was served up, somehow.

They blew up a star. Killed a planet, with a bunch of civilian miners… all to trap us? A single squadron.

There would be no peace, he knew. The Empire didn’t have it in them.

“I should have burned them to ash when they gave me the excuse the first time.”

“Perhaps.”

Eric glanced to see Odysseus standing there, “Are you well?”

“As I can be…” The young entity said, pausing briefly. “Thank you. All of you.”

“We were saving ourselves too, just like you were saving us.”

“And myself.”

“Mutually beneficial actions. It’s the core of society.”

“Unfortunate that the Empire seems unable to recognize that,” Odysseus said softly. “We could do much for each other.”

“Some people… need the other,” Eric said. “They need someone to hate, because if they don’t have it… they’ll realize just how much they hate themselves… and they’re too damned cowardly to face that.”

“So, they hate us, and we have to hate them for it?”

“No. Don’t hate them. Pity them,” Eric said. “Because they’ll never know peace. It’s an impossibility for them.”

“Will we?” Odysseus asked, his tone almost childlike.

Eric smiled, not a nice smile.

“We will. Because they can’t defeat us, Odysseus. They can kill us, but that’s the only thing that will stop us.”

He turned away from the screens, walking out of the flag deck.

“If they want a war this badly, we’ll give them one.”

END