A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  Unfortunately, the enemy apparently realized its importance as well.

  “Get me scans of that fleet,” Nayasar ordered as she leaned forward in her chair.

  “They’ve got about 350 ships to our 500, though they’re being backed up by orbital defense cannons. About twenty percent of the fleet is made up of the new ship classes.”

  The Marauder and the Lancer classes, they were called, according to the recently acquired intelligence reports.

  “Open a channel to the fleet,” Nayasar ordered, and rose as the tactical display was activated on the upper level of the command deck. As much as she would have preferred to keep the individual Alliance fleets—her own, that of the Tyrannodons, Snevans, Talvostans, and Legion Navy—as separate operating units, it made far more tactical sense to organize by ship class in large engagements, at least at certain points.

  “Attention all ships, this is Grand Admiral Khariah. Array in Attack Formation Striker Two, with the exception of the Felinaris frigate and cruiser class ships. They take the center, and will engage the main bulk of the enemy Marauder-class and Lancer-class ships, getting in close and using the enemy ships and weapons platforms as cover, while all battlecruiser and dreadnought wings provide cover and poke a nice hole for them. All other light vessels, to the formation’s wings, and come down on the Revittan forces from above, keeping them between us and the planet.”

  This would be the largest single engagement between Alliance and Revittan forces since the battle over the hollow world, and when factoring in the three simultaneous strikes taking place at other, slightly less crucial targets, this may well be regarded as the day the war truly began.

  “All forces report ready and in position, Srei Felitzvah.”

  “Then give the order to engage,” Nayasar said, and steadied herself next to the tactical display, a hand clenched around a smooth handhold installed for just this purpose, in preparation for the potential tremors of taking fire.

  “Keep us at the front of the battlecruiser wing,” Nayasar ordered. While she wasn’t personally leading the attack this time, she wasn’t about to stay even further back than absolutely necessary. Additionally, her ship’s felinite armor likely stood the best chance against the enemy’s kinetic energy weapons if shields were drained. Alliance engineers believed they were close to developing countermeasures to the Revittan shield-draining weapons, but they were not ready quite yet, and this offensive could not wait.

  “Entering firing range… now!” Called Captain Eirsen, Nayasar’s second in command aboard the Felinar.

  Immediately, the Felinar and the rest of the ships in the battlecruiser wing began to fire on the Revittan positions, which, despite losses, admirably held formation.

  “Concentrate fire on the Revittan position just to the left of the advancing light craft,” Nayasar ordered as they continued to close, and the Alliance warships on the wings of the formation began to engage the ends of the enemy force. The light Felinaris ships were taking fire, and weathering it better than the more weakly armored ships had previously, but it was only a matter of time before damage mounted and significant losses began. They needed a path through the enemy line, or around it, but they were too close to the planet and too tightly arranged for either of those, since to try and go above or below would leave them open to too much fire while being unable to effectively return it in kind.

  “Take us in closer,” Nayasar ordered, even as she saw that the center was failing to break through, at least so far. “Tell our light craft to break off, and once they do, have the rest of the battlecruiser wing follow us in.”

  “And what happens if we get too close to change course and they’re still holding?” Asked Lieutenant Kelov, the Felinar’s pilot.

  Nayasar grinned. “Let me worry about that, and let’s make them worry about a fleet bearing down on them.”

  They had to break.

  Nayasar opened a channel to the fleet’s fighter wings. “All heavy fighters, converge on the center of the Revittan formation, focus fire on individual ships. Interceptors, give them cover.”

  Omnipresent willing, this would pay off.

  The Felinar shook as it took several more hits, and a warning began to blare, alerting everyone that the shields were draining.

  Come on.

  Then, just as they were reaching the point of no return, several Revittan ships erupted into flames, and several others in their vicinity broke formation. And best of all, practically all of the enemy fighters had gone after her own, leaving no further obstacles.

  “Fire at will, and bring us around behind the rest of them. Ignore the platforms for the moment.” As in the last war, it would be preferable to capture those intact, so that they could be used to defend against Revittan attempts to retake this world.

  Their formation broken, and with ships on all sides, the Revittan resistance quickly crumbled—literally before Nayasar’s eyes on the tactical display.

  Before long, it was all over, with the remaining Revittan ships signaling their surrender. Nayasar took a moment to savor the victory—bolstered by reports that the other attacks were meeting with success as well—before she would let her mind turn to the damage and casualty reports.

  There was also some concern, she admitted to herself as she brought up the larger map of the warfront, that they were being baited into extending too far, so they had to be careful and methodical. However, Nayasar doubted that the enemy would throw four battles simply to draw the Alliance out at this early stage of things. It was important to bear in mind that this war would be very different from the last. However, despite the risks of unfamiliar locations, it was certainly a boon for civilian morale to not be fighting much in home territory. Especially given the weakness of many in the Alliance, that could prove crucial.

  “Well done, everyone,” Nayasar said to her command crew. “There’ll be much more to come, but this was a very good start.” And, thankfully, working with the Alliance had gone smoothly. So long as they kept winning, things would stay good. And luckily, Nayasar intended to win a great deal. She doubted even the most irritating Alliance officials could get tired of winning.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Be advised, Executor,” the shuttle’s pilot said over the intercom, “the landing zone is not completely secure; the enemy still holds out.”

  “Understood,” Keeneye replied. The start of the war, and his engaging in combat again, had cured the malaise and frustration Keeneye had been suffering from, but there was something different about engaging in combat on a personal level. It was a foolish thing, he understood; one should not enjoy such things, but one also could not completely escape his nature.

  Keeneye opened the shuttle door and was out without it ever touching the ground, rifle at the ready, though it wasn’t all that loud in the area, indicating that most of the fighting was already over.

  “Status report,” he said through the battle network as he located several of his soldiers taking cover behind an armored personnel carrier.

  “We’ve nearly pacified this area, Executor,” a lieutenant said. “This location held the Imperial garrison, which has been all but wiped out. We have several remaining troopers holed up in the office building across the street, taking shots at us. The Legion Navy forces are preparing teams to storm the building, as we are trying to avoid collateral damage here.”

  “No need,” Keeneye said. “Tell them to call it off. I’ll deal with the Revittans.”

  Without giving them time to even ask what he had in mind, Keeneye stepped out from behind the vehicle, eyes raised to the building in question as he began to slowly approach it across the street, currently uneven due to debris and gouges taken out of the stone by weapons fire. Moments later, three shots were fired at him, two impacting the ground close to him, the third hitting him square in the chest, completely absorbed by his shields.

  Before his shields stopped flaring from the impact, Keeneye brought the rifle up and fired six times. In all three rooms he’d fir
ed into, he saw a slumped, armored body. Thoroughly unimpressive.

  Several more shots came his way, but by firing at him, all the Revittans were doing was making it even easier for him to locate and eliminate them.

  By the time Keeneye reached the building’s entrance, he had killed a total of eleven, and the troopers had clearly realized that their tactics were not working. Fortunately, they were not particularly quiet, and Keeneye clearly heard a group of soldiers dashing toward the door in an attempt to storm out and attack him.

  “Open fire,” he ordered as the Revittans emerged, guns blazing, only to be met by a torrent of weapons fire from Keeneye, his Tyrannodons, and a Legion Navy squad made up of what appeared to be Tehlmans, Cytan, and a Darvian. In moments, the battle was over, and there was no new sign of enemies in the building.

  “Assemble teams to sweep the building, ensure there aren’t any more holdouts,” Keeneye ordered as, for a moment, he saw before him the scene of his initial attack on the Alliance less than a year earlier, where he had effortlessly massacred more than a score of barely competent security personnel. It was strange how quickly things had changed; from invading and occupying Alliance worlds to fighting alongside their armies.

  But more, what did it say about the Tyrannodons that after everything they had done to change their ways, that here they were, invaders once again. Of course, this was definitely a different sort of situation, with the war having been forced upon them by the Revittans, but still.

  “No one told me I’d be taking orders from a war criminal,” snarled the Darvian officer. “A war criminal whose friends have gotten us into another war.”

  Keeneye chose not to respond to the large Darvian, who was still shorter than he was; he could understand that this might bring back bad memories for Alliance forces that had recently seen their own worlds occupied by alien invaders.

  Fortunately, a higher ranking Legion Navy officer, a Tehlman, had overheard. “Stow it, Sergeant. We’re all on the same side here, and enemy territory is precisely the wrong place to hash out old grudges. Now, get those teams into the building.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the Darvian said with a salute, then after shooting another glare Keeneye’s way, stalked off.

  “Apologies, Executor,” the captain said. “The stress of combat compounded with too recent painful memories don’t go well together.”

  “Understandable,” Keeneye replied.

  The Tehlman nodded, and held out a datapad. “We’ve compiled a brief report on this planet, with a focus on resources worth taking. We were fortunate to take them unawares; recent intel has shown that the Revittans are capable of preparing defenses strong enough that we could become embroiled in a months-long campaign.”

  Keeneye accepted the pad, and quickly scanned over the report. He didn’t like the way it sounded, to take a world’s resources, but this was a war, and such things were unquestionably required and valuable. Fortunately, according to the report, everything worth taking could be moved fairly easily and quickly, which also meant that a far smaller occupation force would be required.

  “Captain, begin organizing the movement of everything we need; I’ll take care of selecting a small force to remain behind and operate the captured orbital defenses. This isn’t a world we have to devote so much to. Additionally, if all goes to plan, this place will be well behind our front lines, and not in danger of facing an Imperial counterattack.”

  The captain nodded. “Understood,” he said, accepted the pad back, and headed off.

  Keeneye had just returned to the now secure landing zone his troops had established, when another one of his officers jogged over. “Executor, there is a delegation of the planet’s inhabitants gathered just over a block away, and they’re requesting to speak with you. They’re unarmed.”

  Keeneye nodded. “I’ll go speak with them. Prepare the troops to depart; we’ll only be leaving behind enough personnel to operate the captured orbital defenses and to maintain a minimal presence here.”

  “As you command, Executor,” the officer replied, saluted, then departed.

  As he walked to where the locals were waiting, Keeneye prepared several basic things he could say to reassure them, to make it clear that they need not fear his forces, as he double checked that his universal translator was functional.

  Curiously, when he saw the small delegation, they didn’t look fearful or worried at all. They perhaps looked a bit apprehensive, but not anything near what he had expected.

  He slung his weapon over his shoulder as he approached them on a walkway adjacent to the street. “Do not be alarmed,” he said to the group, made up of Svetorans and Diraas, “I am Executor Keeneye of the Tyrannodon Ascendancy, a member of the Galactic Alliance. I wish to assure you that we have no desire to occupy your world or impose anything on you. Our enemy is only the Empire itself, and all we will take is what the Empire would have put to use against us. We will only be leaving a small token force here to remain in contact with our fleets and to operate the orbital defenses should the Empire return.”

  The apparent leader of the group, a female Svetoran, laughed. “A pleasure to meet you, Executor. I am President Isaahr Toran, the elected leader of this world, and I represent only this world, not the Empire. Their governor fled on his private vessel as soon as your fleet arrived, most likely. I would mention to you that most of us here are not exactly fond of the Empire, and we would not mind a change, especially if it involves more freedom. The fact that your Alliance involves numerous species cooperating on a military level seems a clear sign that it would be a better place for us.”

  This was certainly an interesting development. The intelligence reports had mentioned, of course, that non-Revittans in the Empire were regarded as lesser citizens, and that there was a fair amount of antipathy toward the Empire on the part of those species. However, Keeneye had not expected to find it so openly, let alone receive a tentative request to join the Alliance.

  “As of this time, at least,” Keeneye replied, “We do not intend to overthrow the Empire altogether, rather to force a peace settlement that will allow us to live alongside it, free of conflict. However, I will relay your words to others within the Alliance, and when the time for negotiations comes, we will keep your wishes in mind.” He extended a hand in the typical Tehlman way that had become commonplace in the Alliance.

  Fortunately, it seemed these aliens recognized the gesture as well, and the president shook his hand, hers practically vanishing in Keeneye’s much larger appendage. “Best of luck, Executor, and thank you for giving us this measure of autonomy, and hope, that we have not had in decades.”

  Keeneye nodded. “I would also advise against making public statements of support for us. This war may be a long one, and in the event the Empire retakes this world, I would not wish for you to suffer the consequences of collaborating with us.”

  The president smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re well practiced in keeping our feelings regarding the Empire quiet.”

  Keeneye nodded again, and then began to head back to the landing zone, now busy with troops preparing to move out. As he did so, however, he found himself full of more conflicting, confusing feelings regarding this war. The Empire was clearly an oppressive system, keeping one species at the top, in a similar manner to what the High Lord would have done. Should they be trying to topple this regime, as Darkclaw had overthrown the tyrannical High Lord? It would certainly give them a positive purpose to be fighting for, as opposed to now, fighting just to convince the Revittans that this war wasn’t worth fighting. On the other hand, changing their aim would lead to a longer, more bloody conflict that many would not have the stomach for.

  Keeneye wouldn’t mind, though. It would give more meaning to what they were doing, and it would help others; certainly the most noble thing his people could do to spiritually amend for their past actions.

  He would mention it to Darkclaw, at the least. He wouldn’t laugh the suggestion out of the room, though he’d likely not appr
ove. But that would have to wait; there were more battles to fight first.

  CHAPTER 11

  Asharra landed hard on the cold floor of her cell, too exhausted to brace herself for the impact after another session of “questioning” at the hands of IRSS interrogators. That made it what, a dozen now? She lifted her head slightly, just enough to see the corner where she’d made small marks on the wall with the vile food they gave her. Session thirteen, apparently.

  Asharra let her head drop back to the floor and lay there for several minutes until her breathing slowed to normal and the immediate pain subsided. The lingering pains and aches she could do nothing about.

  Once she had the strength, Asharra crawled over to the wall, leaned back against it, and moved her hair away from her sverii, the four tendrils that extended from the back of her head and rested on her shoulders. How many days had it been? She should’ve been counting those that as well as the number of interrogation sessions; actual time spent here was probably more important to keep track of.

  The only positive thing that she could conjure up was that none of them had broken yet. Or if anyone had, they had genuinely not known what the Imperials wanted to know. Of course, if they had gotten what they wanted, they wouldn’t tell the prisoners, and they had not exactly facilitated communication between the sorry souls trapped here.

  She slowly moved herself to one of the other walls, beneath the only opening in the cell, an air vent that likely ran through the cells in the block to wherever the air fresheners were in the station. “Can anyone hear me?” She asked, then took a moment to clear her throat, and asked again.