A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  “Apologies once more,“Triad replied. “Due to my delay, this unit plotted the most direct course from my prior location to the shelter.”

  The man shook his head again. “Who do you work for? What were you doing?”

  “This unit is not at liberty to disclose my assignments, my lord. Should you wish to learn that, you are free to ask Minister Turon. This unit is sure he would be happy to enlighten you.”

  For several long seconds, the man clearly was considering doing just that, but then he shook his head. “No, I don’t have the time for him. You just be sure to mind your place and learn to follow orders better, robot. Dismissed.”

  “Of course,” Triad replied, then continued past the suspicious official. He had to get out as quickly as he could, but there was one thing to do first.

  He arrived an Minister Turon’s office a short time later, and found that the minister, in his familiar suit of white, red, and blue armor had already returned from the drill.

  “Ah, Triad, I was wondering where you were. These damn drills, always interrupting everything, and for what, preparing for an attack that isn’t going to come? It’s no wonder these people don’t know how to run a government.”

  “Sir,” Triad cut in, “I have some things to tell you, crucial things. There are indeed significant internal problems in the Empire, with the Emperor, as you suspected. For your own safety, it is not wise for me to tell you all the details, so I must refuse any requests for that information. You are the Empire’s greatest hope for becoming great and just again, and I will not risk you, not now—I will leave information that will be locked and hidden until the time is right. I apologize again for this, but I must leave, immediately. And you would be wise to cut all ties with me, and make it clear that I had been acting strange prior to my sudden and unannounced departure. I believe that soon, you will not want to be linked to me in any way. It has been… an honor, as your kind say, to have worked with you for these last several years.”

  For several seconds Minister Turon stared at him silently, blank, with an almost Gurshen-like passive face due to the life support helmet he wore. “Take care of yourself, then. I will save a place for you when the time comes. I do not forget my friends, Triad. Even those who I could never convince to invest in my companies.”

  Triad nodded. “Thank you, Minister, and farewell.”

  Without another word, Triad exited the office and began to walk as quickly as he could without appearing conspicuous, as he transferred the encrypted information to the minister’s personal infopad. He would miss the bombastic, eccentric, and too often filter-less minister. Perhaps one day he would indeed have the opportunity to take his place at Turon’s side again.

  Triad stepped outside and into the metaphorical unknown.

  CHAPTER 38

  “Don’t misunderstand,” Ayil said. “I do want to help, in fact, I’ve never been as friendly toward a cause like this in my life, but I, we, are not cut out for this. Our old lives had dangerous aspects, but not serious ones, and ones that hardly ever followed us home. This… this is something else entirely.”

  She, Liya, and Dran, had run several more missions with the rebels over the past few weeks, in addition to sending information broadcasts back toward Alliance space as safely as possible. On their most recent one, Ayil had come perilously close to getting shot in the face, and in the chase out of the system, the River Lark had taken significant damage. They had been too close to dying.

  “There are other ways we can continue helping,” Dran added as Ayil paused. “Once we return to Alliance space, we can ensure our messages got through and secure aid for you. Perhaps we will even ferry supplies to you ourselves.”

  Ayil crossed her arms, and avoided looking any of the rebels in the eye. She was making the right choice, she knew, the logical choice. The best one for her small family. Then why did she feel so guilty?

  “I’m sorry, but we’re not heroes. We just do work for hire, and try to make our way in the universe. We won’t ask for any payment, of course. But we need time when we aren’t fearing for our lives.”

  “I understand,” said Commodore Mierran. The higher rebellion leaders were busy at the moment, but truth be told, Ayil felt more comfortable with the more relatable commodore and Captain Saral, who was also present.

  “You’re wrong,” Saral said quickly. “The fact that you have done what you have done, going against your instincts and risking yourselves, makes you heroes. And I similarly understand that this is not something everyone is willing or able to do, particularly when they have loved ones. We would of course welcome any future help you can give us, but I understand needing to walk away. Repairs on your ship should be completed soon, and you will of course have no issue leaving at your leisure.”

  Why was this only making her feel more guilty? What was she becoming?

  “I—” she began before a knock on the door interrupted her.

  The commodore answered it, and Ayil saw a tall, serpentine Nekessian waiting there, a datapad in one of his four hands.

  “Apologies, Commodore, but we just picked up a coded message from deep within Imperial space. And… you should see it.”

  Mierran thanked and dismissed the snake-man, and quickly scanned the pad, her eyes widening.

  “What is it?” Ayil asked as she uncrossed her arms.

  “An opportunity, one that cannot be passed over.” The commodore handed the pad to Captain Saral. “Someone offering us a huge amount of classified information, relating to both that Final Awakening weapon Director Revval is so perked about, and on the events surrounding the outbreak of war. Information which could lead to the Empire’s fall.”

  “And the catch?” Dran asked. “There always seems to be one.”

  “The source wants to meet deep within Imperial space, and he cannot stay where he is for long.”

  “Sounds like a trap to me,” Dran replied.

  “Maybe,” Captain Saral said, “but I doubt it. Based on how this appears to be written, I believe our informant is a Gurshen.”

  “A robot?” Ayil asked. She had seen some of them in their recent travels, but had yet to actually interact with one.

  “More than a mere robot, and, more important, one who I doubt is laying a trap. While the Empire is happy to employ Gurshen, they would never entrust truly secret information to them, nor involve them in sensitive operations. This is still strange, of course, as Gurshen do not become spies for anyone, but I believe this lead must be checked out, despite the risk. If he indeed does have this information, it could prove vital to both our survival as well as the Alliance’s ability to continue fighting the war.” She turned toward Ayil, Liya, and Dran. “You would be ideal to send, given your ship’s capabilities, but I won’t ask that of you. We have others who can slip in and out, in addition to that shuttle we recently acquired.”

  There was that damn guilt again. Ayil crossed her arms again, looked at the floor for a moment, then returned her gaze to the captain.

  “Actually, can you give the three of us a moment alone?”

  “Of course, Saral replied. The commodore nodded to her, and they left the room.

  “Don’t tell me,” Liya said as soon as they were alone, “you want to help them.”

  “I…” Ayil began, “I suppose I do. You hear them, Liya, this informant is deep in Imperial space. No ship has anywhere near as good a chance at getting in there quietly as the Lark. We wouldn’t even have to fly back here, just send everything over our secure transmitter, then be on our way back home. I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this. It’s just… I want to help them.”

  “And what if it’s a trap? I thought you agreed that this was getting to be too much for you too?”

  “It was, but at the same time…” Ayil sighed. “It’ll be just this last thing, then I won’t bother you at all about going home. And if it really looks like a trap, or anything goes wrong, I won’t prevent us from getting out of there. Our safety must come first.” She tu
rned to Dran, who shrugged.

  “I suppose so. We could make that our last batch of Alliance intelligence too, finish our contract with the Felinaris admiral on a high note. But like you said, our safety comes first. If I decide it’s too risky, we are leaving.”

  “I understand,” Ayil said, then launched herself into Dran, hugging him close. “Thank you,” she said as she felt the guilt subside.

  “I do suppose Dalcon would approve,” Liya said. “When I eventually meet him in the afterlife, remind me to punch him, please, for getting us into all of this.”

  “I will try to remember,” Ayil said with a smile, then called the rebels back in.

  “We have decided to do it,” she said. “One final mission, then we will be returning home.”

  Captain Saral smiled knowingly. “I am very glad to hear it. This is what I meant, by the way, about being heroic. We will forever be in your debt.”

  “Apparently being heroic also makes me stupid,” Ayil replied, “but I never have been the wisest person. Send us the information, and let us get this over with.” There was definitely some history there, something the captain was hiding. Perhaps one day Ayil would manage to learn what that was.

  “Of course,” Saral replied. “May the Shift’s flow carry you forward in safety.”

  “Good luck,” Commodore Mierran added.

  “You too; you have a much longer fight ahead of you,” Ayil replied, then signaled to Dran and Liya, and made for the Lark.

  CHAPTER 39

  Once we commit to this, we commit fully,” Darkclaw reminded the other commanders. “Trying to hedge our bets, keep forces back, etcetera, will only increase the odds that our key offensive will be stymied. This battle must be won; anything less than a conclusive victory will be a disaster, and at best would meant this war continues for an indefinite length of time.”

  “That is clear, High Executor,” said Supreme Commander Carron. “We will dispatch all ships we can possibly muster.” The holographic projections of the other commanders voiced their agreement as well, and the meeting was adjourned.

  Darkclaw returned to his command chair, and stared out at the light show before them that was hyperspace. Everything was ready, all forces were in place, and yet he felt nervous. The plan was good, and it would work, he tried to reassure himself. There was no way the Revittans could have learned enough to prepare for it, and Grand Admiral Sai’var had been proven beatable. Between their tactical planning and the overwhelming force the Alliance would be bringing to bear, they would be fine.

  And yet…

  Sai’var’s reputation was so solid that Darkclaw could not truly believe they had so easily bested him. But beyond that, Darkclaw’s own keenly tactical mind, created specifically for this purpose by the High Lord, could not help but see little flaws, minor things that could be improved, though at the cost of the morality that the Alliance and now Darkclaw had chosen to abide by. He could only pray that those concessions, necessary ones, would not come back to haunt them.

  “Ship commander,” Darkclaw said, calling over the Sarcendar’s commanding officer, who had been coordinating some operations with several junior officers after the conclusion of the meeting.

  “Yes, High Executor?”

  “What are your thoughts on the plan, now that you have been fully briefed? Honest opinion.”

  The officer glanced out the display screen for a moment before turning back and replying. “Considering the number of unknowns we must still contend with, it strikes me as just about as solid a plan of action as could be formulated in order to achieve our goals.”

  “But not perfect.”

  “No battle plan can ever truly be so. But beyond that, the fact that we must coordinate several separate militaries, each used to different styles of command, and with leaders that do not necessarily share a completely unified agenda, is an inherent weakness that we simply cannot excise. The Revittan Empire, on the other hand, has a singular military commanded by a single leader, with a very specific style and purpose. I have read about internal fighting over power within the Empire, of course, which is a weakness for them, but Grand Admiral Sai’var’s hold on power seems to be secure, and even ambitious officers or officials realize how great a threat we pose.”

  Darkclaw nodded. “And, given what we know, they are not as morally bound as we are, which is another theoretical advantage, should they make use of it.”

  The ship commander nodded. “But as you surely are aware, there is nothing we can do to alter those realities at this time. All we can do is execute it well, and I very much hope that the Legion Navy will defer to your judgment should improvisations be required.”

  Darkclaw smiled. “They won’t like it, but they will. No battle plan survives contact with the enemy completely intact. And my impression is that our Alliance counterparts truly understand the stakes here, and are committed. I do not know if it was due to yet another great diplomatic maneuver by Admiral Kharitzon, my own logic regarding the plan, or just their understanding of our situation, but they are in agreement that this battle will effectively end the war, if it does not end it outright via a surrender of our adversaries.”

  “Omnipresent willing, may it not be a long one.”

  It was still strange, hearing Tyrannodons use such a uniquely Felinaris statement, but it was growing more and more common; Darkclaw found himself making use of it on occasion as well. If only there was time to properly consider what this meant for him personally, as well as for his people, who were still developing their own culture.

  Darkclaw had just resolved to ask the ship commander about that when the Sarcendar jolted suddenly, and alarms began to blare.

  “We are being interdicted!” the helm operator shouted.

  “All hands to battle stations,” Darkclaw ordered, “and make sure the rest of the fleet does so as well.” Being interdicted could only mean that they were about to be attacked.

  Sure enough, as soon as the blur of hyperspace receded, Darkclaw saw a sizable enemy fleet arrayed to intercept them. The question was, however, whether this was simply a delaying action, or actually an attempt to destroy his force.

  “Array in defensive formation,” he commanded as the tactical display came online. At least the entire force here was Tyrannodon, and there would be no issues with delays in carrying out commands.

  “Revittan fleet is firing,” came the notification.

  “All ships, hold position and return fire,” Darkclaw ordered.

  As the fleets exchanged fire, Darkclaw took further stock of the situation. His force outnumbered their Revittan attackers, and while the enemy was firing, they did not seem particularly aggressive. Did that mean they intended to only engage briefly, then fall back, thus using this as a delaying action, or were more Imperial forces inbound? And if this was meant to serve as a delaying action, did it mean the enemy knew of their plan, or was it just a general attempt to interfere with Alliance movements? Or was there a larger Imperial plan at play?

  Whatever the case, it did not drastically alter his immediate actions. He gave the order for the fleet to accelerate to attack speed and close with the enemy. The Revittans were tricky, in that they did not have dedicated interdictor vessels, but would modify those of other classes to serve the purpose. There were drawbacks to that, but it made the troublesome ships more difficult to pinpoint and destroy.

  The Sarcendar, well protected within the advancing fleet, only took a few glancing hits as it and its wingmates closed with the enemy, which began to fall back quickly.

  “Do not pursue,” Darkclaw ordered as the Revittan attack force broke completely, the artificial gravity well vanishing, either due to its generator being destroyed or it simply being deactivated.

  Moments later, the battered Imperial task force vanished into hyperspace.

  “All ships,” Darkclaw ordered, “conduct damage reports, repairs and rescue operations as quickly as possible. We have lost enough time as it is, and we have a schedule to hold to.�
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  A moment later, an idea came to mind, one that could potentially confuse the enemy if they suspected a big attack was coming, or, alternatively, simply force them to divert forces, thus weakening key defensive positions. Darkclaw brought up a map, and marked a handful of nearby Imperial outposts and colonies. He then sent orders to several battlegroups, to conduct brief harassment attacks on those positions, before falling back and rendezvousing with the rest of the fleet. It might end up just being a waste of fuel and munitions, but with so much still unknown, anything that could improve their chances was worth trying.

  Through it all, however, Darkclaw could not get the Imperial grand admiral out of his mind. What are you planning? And what does it mean for us?

  CHAPTER 40

  Nayasar had never been good at waiting. When she’d first decided to join the military, all inspired by films depicting or inspired by past wars, she had missed something that was obvious in hindsight. Even during wartime, a soldier, a commander, even an admiral, spent most of her time waiting, doing little of major importance. It was, in some ways, the most dangerous time, as the mind wandered, allowing fears and doubts to enter, and allowing focus and careful planning to slip away.

  She’d learned to deal with it, mostly, but these times still made her fidgety. More so now, when so much was riding on the upcoming operations, and intelligence was still lacking. For the tenth time, Nayasar reviewed the plan, and made sure that all ships had reported ready. She would likely end up doing it another ten times before she took time off duty, let alone until the action started.

  Before the boredom reached the stage where she began to feel drowsy, however, a coded transmission began to come in. Nayasar sat up straight, immediately alert, then handed command over to Captain Eirsen as she retreated to her office just off the command deck.