by Yakov Merkin
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Late that night, a tired Corras sat on his bed, trying to figure out the best way to say what needed to be said, when Saveera sat beside him, wrapped an arm around him, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“You’re the intelligence agent, but I can tell something is troubling you,” she said.
Corras took a deep breath, and nodded. “You’re right. There is something very important I need you, and the children, to hear. Something that will be as tough for you as for me. Just let me get through it all without interruption, and I’ll answer any questions afterward.”
She nodded, and Corras began, quickly going over what he planned to do and what had prompted that decision. “I intend to do my utmost to keep my defection a secret, but all the same, I have made arrangements for you and the rest of the family to be safely hidden for a time; I cannot risk the Empire coming after you as a means to get to me. I’ll tell the children the same in the morning. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, that I could stay with you, and ensure my own safety, but I must be personally involved if I am to ensure that this gets seen through to the end. And I can’t guarantee that this will end with my safe return home.” He braced himself, unsure of what Saveera’s reaction would be.
She tightened her arm around him, and smiled. “I understand,” she said. “I’ve seen you, over the years, especially the past few, become increasingly troubled by the changes within the Empire. And you are right to determine that in order to preserve what it was and can be again, something must be done. I don’t want to risk losing you, like I had to so many times when we were younger, but I see why this is something you need to personally see through. That is the man you are, the man I have been lucky enough to spend so many years with. Just promise me that you will do what you can to make it back.”
Corras nodded. “I wish I could make guarantees, but I can at least promise to do whatever I can to make it back. I wish we had more time, but I cannot delay further. We have this night, at least,” he said.
Saveera wrapped him in a full embrace. “I intend for us to make the most of that time, then,” she said, then leaned in to a kiss.
My thoughts exactly.
###
The next morning, Corras sat in the family room with Saveera and his children. Again, he found it difficult to begin, but forced himself to get over the hurdle.
“I’ve already spoken about this to your mother, but you all deserve to hear it from me. To put it simply, the Empire now is not what I pledged myself to serving before any of you were born. It has become twisted into something dark. And I cannot simply stand by and do my duty when that would be in service to an evil. Thus, I am abandoning my post, and defecting to the rebellion. Ironic, I know, but such is life. I will keep this a secret from everyone but you, both for my safety, for your safety, and for the success of my goals. As an extra precaution, however, I have arranged a safe place for all of you to travel to and stay at for a time; I cannot risk the Empire trying to get to me through any one of you. If anyone asks anything, it is an extended family vacation. It will be a comfortable, secure location.” He paused for a long moment. “I wish I could promise that I will make it back to you at the end of all this, but I cannot make a promise that I can’t ensure I will be able to keep. I… I have always tried to be a positive example for you, to be someone you could be proud of, and that is why I must do the right thing here, however difficult it is for me, for all of us. I still love the Empire that has given us so much, and that is precisely why I must do this, in order to make it truly great and just again. I realize this may be somewhat shocking, but I need you all to trust me.”
After several long moments of silence, Varin nodded. “Of course I trust you, and I’m sure I can speak for everyone else.” He grinned. “I suppose you just had to get yourself into one last field mission, even after all this time.”
“You know I don’t appreciate being reminded of my age,” he said scoldingly, but rose and moved to embrace his son.
“I couldn’t ask for a better example to follow,” Varin said as he hugged Corras tightly in return.
“I can say, at least, that I have every intention of making it through this,” he said after spending some time hugging each of his kids, “even though I cannot make guarantees.” Spirits, but he didn’t want this moment to end. Unfortunately, it had to.
“I need you all to get home, and prepare to leave today. Give the little ones hugs for me; I wish I could properly explain everything to them as well.”
Everyone nodded in understanding, and after a round of tearful hugs and goodbyes, they left, leaving Corras along with his wife. “You have to pack too.”
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, undimmed even after all these years. “I know.” She walked over and they embraced for what felt like a very long time, but was still far too short. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” Corras replied.
Eventually they separated, and Saveera went to prepare while Corras double-checked his final preparations; fortunately, his years in intelligence had left him with many skills to prevent himself from being tracked as he went on his way.
He took one last, long look at the home he might never see again, then stepped outside, the first steps to his final mission, one way or the other.
CHAPTER 19
The tide of the war had definitively begun to turn against the Alliance. Keeneye ordered a pair of frigate wings to alter position to cover a cruiser wing under heavy attack from enemy fighters and gunships, which had taken advantage of the fact that most of the Alliance fighters were engaged elsewhere along the Alliance’s defensive formation.
This was the third Revittan counterattack over Baelar that the combined Tyrannodon, Talvostan, And Snevan force had engaged, and while the previous two assaults had been driven off, they did not feel like victories. Rather, it felt like this was somehow all part of the enemy commander’s plan.
At present, they had precious little information on the new Revittan commander in chief, one Grand Admiral Sai’var, apart from the curious fact that he was not Revittan, and that he was regarded as a tactical genius. Beyond the very basics, however, they had next to nothing. Revittan information networks were tightly controlled, and there had been no contact from their various field agents in the days since the Revittans had retaken Re’ivar.
Could that one simple leadership change have really altered the situation to such a degree? Where Revittan discipline and morale had appeared to have completely collapsed, now it was flawlessly efficient. The defeat of the Alliance fleet at Re’ivar had not been a one-off occurrence.
On the more positive side, they had managed to figure out a more sure counter to the Revittan energy-draining weapons. Original countermeasures had been defeated by the enemy merely adjusting the frequency of the weapon, but now Alliance ships were prepared to match it quickly to prevent their shields from being drained away.
“Have the forward Talvostan battleships fall back to the main defensive line,” Keeneye ordered, “and call all fighter squadrons back to protect the fleet. We have more enemies inbound.” Another large group of Imperial ships had just entered the system at a different angle of attack, which would make their defense of the planet more difficult, but not impossible. This new commander’s tactics emphasized extreme mobility and fluidity. One could never be certain where, when, and in what form the next attack would come.
Fortunately, no commander could change the fact that Alliance ships outperformed those of the Revittan Empire in battle.
“Focus fire on the center of the enemy formation,” Keeneye ordered as he observed the recent developments on the tactical display. All he needed was an opening to take the offensive, and better discipline or no, the Revittan attack would be broken.
As his forces pummeled that of the enemy, however, the Sarcendar began to shake, as though taking fire. But he could plainly see that that the enemy arrayed before him was not firing on his ship at the moment.
<
br /> The ship shuddered again.
“Where is that fire coming from?” He asked
“From below, from planetside.”
“That’s impossible. We control the planet, and there aren’t any surface-based weapons capable of reaching us here.”
“All the same, Executor, it is—wait, I am getting it on scanners now. Revittan ships.”
Revittan ships?
How had they managed this? After a few moments, Keeneye understood. They must have entered the system on the opposite side of the planet and made their approach in-atmosphere.
“How many?” He asked. The tactical display couldn’t quite get an accurate read.
“Two hundred or so, Executor.”
Two hundred. “Maneuver our Third Fleet and the Snevan dreadnoughts to face them!” he commanded, knowing all too well that it would take too long.
The enemy craft, all light cruisers and frigates, swarmed right into the middle of the now-disoriented Alliance formation, targeting their lighter craft as well as peppering the heavier warships with weapons fire even as the Revittan forces already engaged with the Alliance fleet began to close.
There was no salvaging this situation.
“Give the order to retreat,” Keeneye ordered, “before this becomes a complete rout.” That would also mean abandoning their forces still planetside, but there was no time for an evacuation.
This Sai’var not only knew exactly how to best employ his own resources, but he somehow was able to anticipate and prepare for every engagement he chose to take part in. That might be the key, however; no commander was infallible, and forcing engagements he was not prepared for could yield better results. But that was speculation for the future.
There was no denying now that this going to be a very long war, and, Keeneye determined as his battered but still largely intact fleet moved away from the planet and made the jump to hyperspace, the key to winning this war now was going to be finding out everything they could about this Sai’var, and learning what it took to defeat him—just as the enemy had apparently done to them.
CHAPTER 20
Corras dropped out of hyperspace in the third-hand, cash-purchased, scrap-heap of a ship he’d purchased for this journey, just off the planet Maklet III. The habitable, but as yet uncolonized world that happened to house the center of the Free People’s Alliance, the rebellion. Corras smiled. It was fortunate, both for them and for him, that this information had not been conveyed to him—directly to him—until just after he had come to his fateful decision. Just a short time earlier, or later, and the rebel base would be surrounded by an Imperial fleet by now.
That small bit of satisfaction didn’t make what he was about to do any less daunting, however. Up to this point, he had not done anything that could actually be considered betraying the Empire, and furthermore, there was no way to tell how the rebels would react to the arrival of one so hated by them—for good reason. But, as he had reminded himself numerous times already, there was no other choice. Spirits willing, the rebels would be level-headed enough to at least hear him out.
He took a deep breath, smacked the console that was threatening to flicker out, and began his approach.
As soon as he entered orbit, his ship’s sensors—complete with a barely functioning alarm that sounded like a dying Gurshen—warned him of a pair of rebel Starshrieker fighters streaking toward him.
Moments later, he was alerted to an incoming transmission.
“Unidentified ship,” said a rough voice—or, more accurately, someone trying to mimic a rough voice, “you have entered Kajon Gang Territory. State your business or be on your way, and consider yourself lucky we aren’t in the mood to rob you blind. If you continue on your present course, you will be destroyed—or boarded and relieved of anything you are transporting on that rust bucket.”
Corras sighed, and laughed. “You really need to practice your act some more, rebels,” he said. “The list of people that will fool is incredibly small.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Relax, I am not here to antagonize or threaten you. In fact, I’m here to join you. I’m an imperial defector, and I have information you will find very interesting. All I ask for is guaranteed safety and freedom.”
“Give me your name, Imperial, and then maybe I’ll give you a small amount of benefit of the doubt. We need more than vague promises and empty words.”
“I will tell you anything you wish to know once I am safely on the surface. I swear I mean you no harm, and you can feel free to scan this rust bucket for any sort of trackers. Besides, if I was your enemy, and I knew of this location, why would I bother with a ruse in the first place?”
After several long moments of tense silence, he got an answer.
“Very well, Imperial. We’ll send you a heading, which you will follow with no deviations. That may not be an Imperial ship you’re flying, but since you’re in it, it might as well be, and I love shooting Imps down.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do without that today,” Corras said as the flight path instructions came through and he moved into position to follow them.
The rebel pilots remained quiet throughout the rest of their descent, though they stayed close enough to ensure that their presence was felt. Fortunately, they did not make any further threatening moves.
A few minutes later, Corras touched down outside a structure that, at first glance, appeared to be a massive, stone temple of some kind, but upon further inspection proved to be a cleverly disguised modern structure. His fighter escorts did not land with him, rather angling back up to presumably continue their patrol, but a large number of armed rebels did emerge from the building and arrange themselves in a rough arc around the front of the ship.
This would be the really challenging part.
Corras powered down the ship’s systems, lowered the boarding ramp, checked to make sure his uniform was in order—he had to make a good impression, after all—and headed outside into the brisk air—it must’ve been near winter, despite everything still being very green. He kept his sidearm on his belt, but kept both his hands visible and not too close to the weapon.
It was clear immediately that the assembled rebels knew who he was, by the audible gasps and muttering, even before Corras announced his name.
Before he could get in so much as another word, however, the muttering turned to angry shouts, and a few of the rebels, a mix of just about every known intelligent species, began to approach Corras, brandishing weapons. Honestly, he couldn’t completely blame them.
He raised his hands. “I understand that I cannot simply apologize for my past actions, but I have a great deal of information that will be of great benefit to you. Please, just listen to me. I am only trying to do the right thing.”
“A few damn years too late for that,” a quadrupedal Ebborite shouted back, and several people moved closer again, enough of a threat to make Corras back up and let his hand drift toward his weapon.
“Enough!” A loud, powerful, and strangely familiar voice cut through the noise, and the crowd quieted.
A few moments later, a Revittan woman pushed through to the front of the group. Vilara Mierran, if Corras’s memory served. Captain Vilara Mierran, formerly of the Imperial starfighter corps, current traitor and rebel. Well, he supposed it was fellow traitor now.
“Well,” she said, a bemused grin on her face. “It really is you.”
Corras nodded. “Captain, or should I say, Commodore, Mierran. We’ve never met, but I am familiar with your record.”
“I’m sure you are. Follow me, the command staff will speak with you.”
“Much appreciated,” Corras replied, then followed her carefully through the massed crowd, which was just starting to disperse, and into the dimly lit, musty-smelling building.
After an elevator ride marked by uncomfortable silence, they emerged at one of the upper levels, and Corras allowed himself to be led to a small conference room just off what appeared to be a
command operations room.
“After you, Director Revval,” Commodore Mierran said, ushering him inside.
Corras stepped through the doorway, and found himself face to face with three individuals who he similarly had never met, but knew so much about. Admiral Moyar Dahar, Chancellor Lerehn Vau, and General Ral Orran, the three leaders of the long-running rebellion, the Free Peoples’ Alliance. Fittingly, they were Nihluran, Svetoran, and a Revittan, respectively.
“So it’s true, we do indeed have a distinguished guest,” Vau said icily, her deep blue eyes narrow, as she repositioned her hair around her horns.
“Director Revval himself,” said Dahar, as Commodore Mierran closed the door and sat down.
“Was he searched?” General Orran, the commander of the rebellion’s ground operations, asked the commodore.
She nodded. “He was surreptitiously scanned as he was led inside. Nothing detects that indicated a tracking device, and he has no weapons besides that sidearm. Should I relieve him on if?”
“No need,” Orran said, eyes still locked on Corras. “Someone of his position is not the type to suicidally attempt to decapitate our organization. Besides, some of the old customs are worth preserving, and an officer, even a spy, is still an officer, worthy of keeping a sidearm if he indeed intends on surrendering willingly.” Orran had not been a military man before joining the rebellion, but he had that characteristic Revittan insight.
“Thank you,” Corras said. “Though to be technical, a defection is not the same as a surrender.”
“Yes, about that,” Vau said. “I believe I speak for us all when I say we would like to hear precisely what brings you here, Director, and why we should believe anything you have to say.”
