Into the War (Rise of the Republic Book 3)

by James Rosone

  Sitting in her captain’s chair, McKee pulled up a view of the ship. As she watched the overview of the battlegroup, she saw it wasn’t just the Paris going down. The Amsterdam, Shanghai, and Tokyo were all in trouble. All three of the ships had fires raging, signifying hull breaches and venting oxygen.

  As the minutes ticked by, the Paris eventually blew up. The captain had fortunately ordered everyone to the life pods, so it appeared that a lot of folks managed to get out before it exploded.

  The Republic and Orbot ships continued to close the distance between each other. As they neared each other, the Orbots’ masers became more potent and caused significantly more damage. It also meant the Republic magrail slugs were finding more and more success in hitting their targets.

  “Captain, two more Orbot ships are out of the fight,” one of the crewmen called out.

  McKee didn’t lift her head to see who it was; she was too busy focusing on one particular Orbot ship. Something about it just didn’t seem right. While the battleships were duking it out, this other ship remained in the area but stayed several million kilometers away.

  “Captain, our missiles are coming up on their terminal approaches,” Lieutenant LaFine exclaimed excitedly.

  This time she took her eyes away from her screen to see how many of them were going to make it through. Nearly a dozen missiles got zapped before they could hit one of the Orbot vessels, but two managed to connect. The twenty-five-megaton warheads lit up like a new sun being born.

  When the flashes had subsided, the enemy vessel was practically ripped in half. Three more nukes managed to score hits on two more vessels, causing considerable damage.

  Commander Arnold walked up to her and sat down in the XO chair. He leaned in as he whispered, “That didn’t work out quite as well as we had wanted.”

  She crossed her arms. “How do you mean, John? Three of their battleships are destroyed, and the remaining ones are crossing the zenith of our paths. We’re about to wipe them out.”

  “I’m talking about how we fired off over six hundred missiles and only scored eighteen hits,” Arnold explained. “We’ve got to get better at this if we’re going to survive many more battles.”

  Before either of them could say anything else, they were practically thrown out of their seats from a hit. Being this close to an Orbot ship meant their masers hit with a lot more power.

  “Hull breach, deck two, section J,” called out Commander Bonhauf gruffly. “Hull breach, deck three, section Q. Hull breach, port-side hangar deck.”

  The damage control board lit up with yellow and red lights, signifying multiple hull breaches and fires, and Fran knew they were in trouble.

  The next forty minutes were tense as the engineer Synths fought to contain the fires and seal the ship back up. They’d had to seal off several sections, trapping dozens of sailors, to prevent the fires from spreading or further depressurization events from happening.

  As the Republic battlegroup flew past the Orbot ships, they turned to their starboard side and shifted the battle to that side of their ships. Instead of preparing their own ships to return to the fight, roughly a third of the Orbot vessels jumped away. The remaining ships appeared to self-destruct. Moments after they blew up, that odd-looking vessel that had stayed at the fringes of the battlespace jumped away.

  *******

  One Week Later

  RNS George Washington

  Admiral Halsey and Captain McKee stood near the Walburg tech, looking over the C100 he’d been examining.

  “So? What do we know?” asked Halsey.

  “Well, the Orbots definitely breached this C100’s firewall,” said the tech, matter of factly. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Good news, please,” Captain McKee remarked, crossing her arms.

  “Since Royce hit the kill switch on the other C100s, the ones that were not inside the room with the Orbots don’t appear to have been affected. None of the Orbots’ faulty commands got transferred to the other C100s.”

  “And the bad news?” Halsey pressed.

  “We still don’t know how they did it,” the tech admitted. “It’s not like they inserted code—I’ve never seen this before. We’re going to have to take the affected C100s back to Earth and do more research to find out how the Orbots overrode our firewalls.

  “In the meantime, I’m going to install a special kill switch that I think will shut the C100s off if the Orbots try to tamper with them again. That way, they won’t be permanently damaged.”

  Halsey sighed. “Great. It looks like we need to focus on using human soldiers with these freaks of nature for now. The ground troops are not going to like this.”

  “Sorry, Admiral,” said the tech. “I wish there was something else I could do, but this is just going to take time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Galactic Empire Council

  Altairius Prime

  As Admiral Miles Hunt sat in his seat on the war council, he marveled at how many battles and skirmishes were being waged across the universe—not just in their galaxy, but in dozens of galaxies that the Empire and Dominion spanned. It was mind-blowing to think about so many species and races out there that could travel the stars.

  For the last two hours, Hunt had listened to briefings on a series of battles the Tully and the Zodarks had been fighting. Then he heard an hour-long update on the battle of Intus, the first battle the human-led Republic had fought in. He was proud to hear how gallantly they had fought, but also sickened by the losses of ships and soldiers. In the grand scheme of things, it seemed like a meaningless battle to him. It didn’t change the outcome of the war, but tens of thousands of people had died.

  When the account of the battle for Intus was finished, Hunt thought he had heard the last of the Republic’s military exploits. He was dismayed that he wasn’t able to be there in person, leading the human forces himself.

  A different speaker stood up, a Primord. He gave a quick review of the battle to retake one of their former colonies, a planet called Rass they had lost more than three hundred years ago. Apparently, they had had a cordial relationship with the Zodarks for a decade, which Admiral Hunt found extraordinarily surprising. Their account of how the Zodarks had turned on them and viciously attacked them later, however, rung true with what Hunt knew of the Zodarks.

  The Primord was a senator who went by the name of Bjork Terboven. Miles had gotten to know him quite well during his time on Altairius Prime. The senator had taken a liking to him, and they’d conversed many times since.

  As Bjork spoke, Miles felt incredibly honored to hear about how well the Republic forces had performed in the battle. The Altairians and many of the others in the Galactic Empire had their doubts about the humans. Each victory and battle eroded any skepticism they held.

  Captain Fran McKee had led the main battlegroup of Republic forces, a position Hunt couldn’t help but envy. Her group of battleships and battlecruisers had managed to destroy nine Zodark vessels. More importantly, they had destroyed eight Orbot ships, including four battleships. It was an incredible victory, and one that made the Altairians and the rest of the Galactic Empire take note.

  This battle’s significance, however, was much more consequential. Capturing Rass would position the Galactic Empire at the edges of Zodark-controlled space. From what Hunt could gather, the GE planned to turn Rass into a launching pad to invade the Zodarks’ territory.

  As the group talked, Admiral Hunt became concerned about the timetable for the invasion. The representatives talked about taking several years to build up the necessary forces to invade Zodark space. However, Hunt worried that holding off on an invasion of this importance would tip the Zodarks off, giving their enemy time to position more forces to lie in wait for them or launch a counterattack.

  When it was Admiral Hunt’s turn to speak, he stood and cleared his throat. “I know I may be new to this group, but I am not new to war, nor am I new to fighting and defeating the Zodarks. The plan you
have laid out is a fine plan, but it has a fatal flaw in it.”

  Several of the other representatives on the council tilted their heads to one side, but they held their tongues, waiting to see what the newcomer had to say.

  “When the Empire captured Rass, it placed our forces at the edge of the Zodark space. We know that, and they know that. However, what has been proposed is that we take several years to build up our forces in the area before we attack further. This is a mistake.”

  One of the alliance members interjected, “Admiral Hunt, it takes time to reposition battlegroups and soldiers. We cannot move enough forces to Rass to launch an invasion of the Zodark space any faster.”

  Another alliance member added, “If we do not build up our forces on Rass, then we’ll leave the planet unprotected. We need to restore the station we captured. We need to build up orbital defenses on the planet and position a garrison on it. There is much that still needs to be done before we can move further.”

  Hunt nodded politely at the information. He held his tongue, letting them say their piece, then he swooped in. “If our objective is to capture Zodark-controlled space and push them back on their heels, then I propose we launch an invasion of Tueblets now, with our current force at Rass,” he announced confidently as he stuck his chin out a bit. Hunt knew he was being cocky, but he was tired of hearing plan after plan about campaigns and battles that were never going to end this war. It was if they were fighting for the sake of fighting.

  This proposal shocked and terrified several members. But the representatives from the Primords and the Tully smiled slightly. They knew what Hunt had just suggested.

  One of the Altairian members exclaimed, “Out of the question!” It was the most emotion Hunt had ever seen from an Altairian. “We cannot launch an invasion of Tueblets. That is twenty-one systems away from Rass. It is practically in the middle of the Zodark core worlds. If we launch an attack like that, the Orbots will certainly come to their aid, perhaps even the Collective.”

  Several members whispered in hushed tones at the mention of the Collective. Hunt had seen that happen several times. It was like they were the boogeyman or something. People only talked about them in quiet corners, like speaking of them out loud might cause lightning to strike.

  Hunt turned to face the Altairian. “Being twenty-one systems away from Rass and in the middle of their territory is exactly why we should attack them now,” he insisted. “The Zodarks wouldn’t expect it, and neither would the Orbots. We just destroyed eighteen of the ships they had been using to assist the Zodarks. We’ve succeeded in punching them in the face. Now it’s time for us to land another blow, and then another blow until we knock them out of the war, or we force them to sue for peace.”

  Hunt felt alive and energetic as he spoke. The inner energy he felt welling up as he explained his strategy just flowed. That was, until the three Altairian members on the council shook their heads in dismay.

  “This is not possible, Admiral Hunt. There are rules. We cannot push the boundaries like this without attracting the attention of the Collective,” the Altairian explained. He spoke softly, like you would to a child who didn’t understand the bigger picture.

  “Rules? I haven’t been told about any rules,” Hunt countered. “Pardon me, but in the last four hours, we sat and listened to the results of one campaign after another. The problem is, none of these campaigns mattered. None of them led us one step closer to victory except Rass. We just crushed the Zodarks and Orbots there. Now is not the time to pull back—we need to press our advantage now and hit them hard. If we transfer additional forces to support them, we could launch this attack in the next six months, not three or more years.”

  The Altairians didn’t say anything at first. The three of them talked privately amongst themselves. It was clear what Hunt had said had struck a nerve with the other alliance members. Some of them were clearly annoyed that a “lesser” species like humans would suggest such an audacious plan. A few others nodded their heads in approval—they were eager to bring an end to this war. Hunt made a mental note to talk with those members further. He was still trying to figure out how the council worked and who really held power.

  Finally, the Altairian who had been objecting to Hunt throughout the meeting spoke. “Admiral Hunt, you have brought up an…interesting plan. I will say, it was not something I would have thought about, but perhaps it warrants further study. I would like to propose that we spend the next several days discussing how we could make a plan like this possible. If it can be made feasible, then we can put it to a vote. I must warn you, however—we are going to stir up a nest of raptors if we are not careful.”

  Hunt hadn’t heard of a nest of raptors, but he guessed it meant the same as hornets or vipers. Nodding his head toward the Altairian, Hunt took his seat, and the meeting progressed. He was happy his point had been made. Maybe they’d take it seriously, or maybe they were just trying to placate him. In either case, Hunt was eager for his new starship to be completed so he could return to the war. He wanted to find a way to end it, not keep it going for another hundred or even thousand years.

  *******

  After the meeting, Bjork walked up to Hunt. “Hello, Admiral. That was quite a speech you gave earlier.”

  Hunt smiled politely. “I think I probably just got myself in trouble, more likely.”

  Chuckling at the comment, Bjork countered, “You spoke the truth, something many on the council seem to be afraid to do with the Altairians.”

  The two of them started walking toward the small set of offices that constituted the Republic’s working spaces. Hunt had a staff of one hundred personnel; the diplomatic corps had a smaller staff, only twenty. Like it or not, this was a military alliance, and matters of war came first in the eyes of the Altairians and everyone else.

  As they neared the door to Hunt’s workspace, a Tully general walked toward them—his species reminded Hunt of a Wookiee from Star Wars, only their hair was much shorter and matted. They also didn’t look quite as tough somehow. The Tully had a unique speech pattern and spoke in low tones. They were also extraordinarily smart. They’d been a spacefaring society for nearly six hundred years and an ally of the Altairians now for five hundred of those years.

  “Excuse me, Admiral Hunt, Bjork. I would like to know if I could speak with you both…in private.”

  Bjork answered for him, “Sure. We were just about to enter Admiral Hunt’s office. You are welcome to join us, General Atiku Muhammadu.”

  The three of them walked into the office space and to Hunt’s office. Hunt had a very spacious office, even by Earth standards.

  Hunt got down to business. “I’m not sure what’s customary in this social situation here, but on my planet, in a private setting between senior military and political leaders, I would usually offer a stiff drink. I can give you some alcohol to try if you’d like,” he offered somewhat awkwardly.

  Bjork smiled. “I will gladly take a glass of what you call bourbon. I tried some at one of your diplomatic events, and I must say, it was aromatic and tasteful. I am actually in talks to see how I can get some of this sent to some of our core worlds. It’s that good.”

  “Well, if Bjork says it’s good, then it must be. I’ll take some as well,” said General Atiku Muhammadu. “By the way, the Altairians do a very good job of making sure that foods and liquids are either safe for everyone to eat or clearly labeled with what species should avoid it. It has made commerce and the ability for mixed species to eat and drink together very easy.”

  Admiral Hunt didn’t know a thing about General Muhammadu other than that his name sounded like a name he might have heard from the Asian Alliance. The only thing Hunt really knew about the Tully was that they were brawlers. They liked to fight, and they used their big hulking physiques to their advantage in that pursuit.

  General Muhammadu took the glass from Hunt and moved it closer to his nose. He took a sniff, then a small sip. His eyes went a little wide as he tasted it. “This i
s good, Bjork.” The general then downed the whole glass in a couple of sips.

  Bjork just shrugged as he caught Hunt’s eye. “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?” the general asked as he let out a loud burp.

  Hunt tried not to pass out from the stench of the general's stomach. “This is alcohol,” he explained. “If you drink too much of it or drink it too quickly, it can have an interesting effect on your mind and your body. Maybe it won’t hit you like it hits me, but if I drink mine too quickly, I feel…how do you say it? Buzzed. Not sure if that word translates into your language.”

  The general shrugged his shoulders as he held out his glass for Admiral Hunt to refill it. Hunt looked at Bjork as if asking if it was OK. The Primord nodded, smiling slightly.

  After handing the general another half glass of bourbon, Hunt asked, “General, what was it you wanted to talk about? What can I, or the Republic, do for the mighty Tully?”

  General Muhamaddu leaned forward as he responded. “First, call me Atiku. We are not in a formal setting. As to what you can do for me…that depends. I heard about your proposal at the council. May I speak to you about it?”

  Miles felt his cheeks reddening, and not from the alcohol. He hoped he hadn’t come down with a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease—not everyone on the council had appeared happy with his proposal.

  Seeing his discomfort, Atiku quickly added, “I agree with what you said. This war…has dragged on for too long. There is much you do not know about this conflict or those pulling the strings. It is much more complicated than you may be able to understand.”

  “I keep getting that sense after each meeting,” Hunt responded, “like there’s a lot more going on behind the scenes than I know about. I understand we humans have only been members for so long, but it feels like there’s so much to learn and not nearly enough time to learn it all.”

  “There will always be much to learn, Miles,” Bjork replied. “Your species is young. Humans have not been around nearly as long as many of the others on the council. This war is being fought across multiple galaxies by species even more advanced than the Orbots or the Altairians, if you can believe that. The Collective and the Gallentines are two such races. In our galaxy, these two species are the oldest, most dominant species, but there are older races out there.”