A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  All the more reason to see this war ended soon, so as to keep them out of danger.

  “Status of the lunar defenses.”

  “Eighty percent destroyed, Admiral.”

  “Very good, we’ll let the rearguard clean the rest up. Have the fleet form up and prepare to attack the planet.”

  Felivas took the moment to dispatch several coded messages to other Alliance fleets, letting them know that things were on schedule, an also, to his surprise, received a transmission of data from his Nihlurans.

  Felivas quickly pulled it up and skimmed through it, then froze.

  “All forces, hold. Do not advance.”

  “What is it?” Asked Commander Noran.

  “New intel, with details on the planetary defenses that we did not have. Several batteries worth of those energy draining weapons have been recently installed, as well as increased shielding, but at a cost.” Felivas pulled up a holographic map of the updated defensive array. “There are more weapons emplacements now, but over here, at the edges, there appear to be gaps in the shield. Provided we keep most of the batteries occupied, a small force can slip behind and take out the shield generators.”

  The commander smiled and nodded. “We could also fly transports behind those warships and send them down to the surface even while we still fight in orbit. Save us some time.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Felivas replied. “Have it organized.”

  Vanar nodded, and when he was halfway turned away, spun to face Felivas again. “I presume we will be among the ships going behind the shield?”

  Felivas smiled. “Of course. We must have the best ship in the fleet leading the charge.”

  “Just checking,” the captain replied with a grin.

  ###

  “Maintain tight formation until we’re through the opening,” Felivas ordered. “Once through, focus all fire on the shield generators, even if some of the platforms manage to target us.” And then once that’s done, we’ll need to get out of the line of fire of our own allies. But everyone knew that already.

  “Landing craft stay close behind, and break for the surface as soon as possible,” Felivas added as the ships assigned to the strike group checked and signaled their readiness.

  “Full attack speed, now!” Felivas ordered as soon as they all were ready, and sat back in his chair as they shot forward.

  The ship shook somewhat as they took some fire, but its shields held strong, thanks to the rotations.

  Almost before he knew it, they were through and behind the shield, which was illumined by the torrents of fire coming from the rest of the joint Alliance force.

  “Targets located,” came the announcement.

  “Get us in range,” Felivas ordered as he saw, on the display, the transports descend.

  “Um, Admiral,” said Lieutenant Azir. “A significant portion of the rearward defense platforms are turning toward us.”

  Well, that was unexpected.

  “Accelerate to full speed, stand ready with shield rotations. All weapons, ready on my mark!”

  As the strike force moved to get clear shots at the generators, the platforms began to fire, and over the comm system, Felivas could hear shouts of damage reports and casualties.

  Come on, come on.

  “Khatf lassh!” Felivas shouted as soon as the moment came, giving the order to open fire. “As soon as targets are down, come about and move toward the planet, all power to rear shields.”

  The Swift Strike shook even more violently as it was pummeled from multiple angles, but it, and most of the force, managed to fire on the generators, which lit up and exploded brilliantly. For a brief moment, the fire from the rest of the fleet paused, then it resumed in earnest, targeting the platforms as the battered strike force fell back.

  “Send reports to the other fleets,” Felivas said, heart still racing, but with a smile on his face. “Tell them all goes well, and we are ready for the next phase. Also send commendations to the other commanders here. We all did well today.”

  Felivas rose from his command chair, got a drink from the dispenser, and looked out at the mixed Alliance fleet. Beyond simply feeling good, victories were what would ensure things stayed good. If there was time before they had to move out, he would invite the other commanders to dinner on the Swift Strike. It’d be another opportunity to make more friends, and he’d get to show off his crew. Then, the march to the Imperial capital would continue.

  CHAPTER 43

  Keeneye entered the ship’s mess hall, one of the brighter rooms on the Ivennar, and looked around at the Tyrannodons present, his crew. He quickly shifted his attention to the food dispensary, selected light options for his midday meal, and sat down. Unfortunately, even the distraction of eating did little to allay the lingering nervousness. If the next day or two went well, the war would likely be over. And while that was something he very much wanted, there would be so much to contend with afterward. He would not further damage his resolve by even considering how bad a spot they would be in should the offensive fail.

  Changing the path of his people after the war would be a huge challenge, but the thought of them being freed from war, even just on its own, made him smile. But nothing would be simple when it came to the Tyrannodons’ future.

  After a moment’s thought, Keeneye relocated himself to where several of the ship’s officers, all clones, were seated. “I trust that you are well,” he said, “and prepared for what is to come.”

  They responded simply, in the affirmative. Keeneye tried to further engage them in conversation, but it was difficult to discuss anything beyond operational matters. Despite his confusing emotions lately, he had made an effort to spend more time with them, to learn what they felt, and to try and get a sense of what might be when the fighting was over. He did see signs of their developing beyond the blank-slate warriors that they had been crafted as, with most taking on names, and many adopting elements of culture from some of the other Alliance species, Felinaris and Talvostans in particular. Most encouraging was an increasing sense of individuality, officers placing personal items on desks, decorating armor within regulatory limits. It was slowly improving, and, as Keeneye watched them eat and converse slightly, he noted happily that these were truly individuals, colleagues to him now, a far cry from the nameless soldier fulfilling a role, as he had viewed them during the invasion.

  “Do any of you know what you wish to do once the war is over?” Keeneye asked. “You will still have duties, but there will be far more leave time, and there is a possibility of permanently transferring those who wish it to civilian work on Voran’dus. I would be interested to hear what you might wish to do then.”

  There were several long moments of silence, then one of the officers spoke. “There was a lake, not far from one of the main settlements. It would be nice to build a home there, among the nature of our homeworld.”

  “It would be nice to switch careers, focus on helping to build rather than destroy,” said another.

  “I had a thought myself,” Keeneye added. “There is still a great deal of galaxy that remains a mystery to us. The high executor has expressed interest in forming an exploratory fleet once peace returns, one which I am prepared to lead. I would be proud to serve with any of you again.”

  Such a venture could be good for many of the clones, providing work similar to what they knew, but in a more peaceful setting, and generally keep thousands of them from settling the homeworld immediately. With so few non-clone Tyrannodons holding all the power, provisions would have to be made to avoid potential conflicts and ensure that the clones could become equal members of society. A way to make sure that they were not simply seen as tools.

  Several of the officers expressed interest in that idea, and conversation went on in short bursts for a bit longer, before the tension of the upcoming battle returned, and Keeneye returned to the command deck. There was still a fair amount of time before the main attack; several smaller thrusts were to take place first, to position the
bulk of the Alliance fleet, while Keeneye’s force, hidden in reserve, would be called upon to outflank the enemy.

  He sat in his command chair, stared out at the fleet and the nebula in whose outer edges they sat, and waited for the signal.

  CHAPTER 44

  “Shuttle Pirret, please transmit security codes,” came the voice over the comm.

  Despite knowing that his clearance codes should work fine, Corras couldn’t help but feel nervous. Maybe it was the situation, or maybe it was the squadron of fighters arrayed before them, weapons locked onto their small shuttle.

  “Transmitting now,” he replied without even a hint of his apprehension in his voice, and began. They were playing the part of an electronics shipment that had been diverted from one of the several systems under heavy Alliance attack. Somehow, they seemed to be advancing again, despite Sai’var being in command. The grand admiral likely had some grander scheme in mind—if he had not finally been bested, that was.

  The cockpit was silent, as though everyone was holding their breath, and Corras’s hands were tighter than they had to be on the controls. No matter how fast he reacted, if things went bad, they were dead.

  “Shuttle Pirret, you are cleared for landing,” replied the officer. “Landing instructions are being sent to you now.’

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Corras replied amicably, “and have a pleasant day.”

  He closed the channel, and all of the rebels relaxed. Corras could hear them breathing again, and there was a bit of cheering.

  So far, so good, but there was so much more to go.

  “I almost expected them to give us more trouble,” Reki said from the copilot’s seat.

  “This type of thing has been happening throughout the war, and it helps that I know the right things to say.”

  “But why not simply tell them who you are, use that authority?”

  “There are risks in that as well, and this way I have that card to play should something else go wrong.” He smiled at the young rebel. “Never lay out all of your cards at the start. It’s a good rule to live by.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, and Corras steered the shuttle down to the designated landing platform.

  Fayren was one of the nicest places to be stationed in the Empire, even if the security restrictions were very tight. It had a very temperate climate, beautiful, unique fauna, with trees that could grow almost a hundred meters tall with canopies that spread out over huge areas, among other wonders. It was almost a shame it was closed to the public.

  The main base itself was on a largely deforested island, as an extra, arguably unneeded, security measure against infiltration. The ocean surrounding it was a beautiful blue, and in the bright midday sun it created gorgeous, shining reflections.

  “Everyone suited up back there?” He asked as he lowered them onto the platform. Stolen uniforms and false identification chips were essential, of course, as were the surprisingly harder to acquire shipping clerk uniforms that two of their Revittan team members wore.

  “All ready,” came the call from the passenger area.

  The plan was almost absurdly simple. Using his personal authority, Corras would, with two of the team posing as bodyguards, simply walk into the facility, get what he needed, and leave. However, there was a backup plan. The two groups with their shipments would, instead of taking them to the exactly correct areas, take the concealed explosives to a small number of key locations, where they could be detonated to provide a distraction in case a rapid escape was needed, as well as to destroy the power generator for the planet’s shield and the base’s tractor beams. Spirits willing, they would not be needed.

  Once the landing sequence was completed, Corras rose, smoothed out his uniform, and walked to the passenger section. “You all know what to do, and I have no doubt that we will succeed. Maintain comm silence unless absolutely necessary, but be alert for my signals.” He paused, at a loss for words. “May the Shift’s flow guide us,” he said, then nodded to Reki and a Revittan named Varash, who was acting as his second bodyguard.

  Once all helmets were safely on, Corras, flanked by his guards, walked out the boarding ramp and lowered it. On the platform stood a shipment officer, his uniform immaculately pressed and polished; either a new transfer, or someone angling for a promotion, most likely.

  “Let’s see,” he said, eyes on a pad, “spare parts shipment, rerouted from where did you say?”

  “Davreii,” Corras replied smoothly.

  “Davreii, you say?” The officer said as he flicked his fingers across the screen. “I don’t have any notification of that, though, admittedly, things are a bit of a mess right now. I’ll have to run it through—”

  “Lieutenant, let’s not waste time,” Corras said.

  The lieutenant’s eyes snapped up, and widened as he saw the uniform.

  “Director Revval?” He gasped. “Apologies for the inconvenience, sir, apologies. Why didn’t you announce your arrival?”

  Corras smiled thinly. “Because, Lieutenant, I am on secret IRSS business, which requires that my presence not be broadcast for any rebel or Alliance spies to intercept.”

  The lieutenant nodded vigorously, still clearly flustered. “Of course, of course. What do you need?”

  “Only access to the data banks. There is information stored only there that could prove crucial for an investigation I am conducting. Also, I would appreciate it if no one hassles me or those that have come with me; they do, genuinely, have deliveries to make. No extraneous people have to know I am here, if you understand my meaning.”

  “Yes, yes of course. I just need to inform the operations director; not my choice sir, it’s protocol. He has to approve unplanned visitors, even one such as yourself.”

  Corras nodded. There was nothing else to do.

  The lieutenant activated his comm. “Yes, sir, this is Lieutenant Aren. Sir, the IRSS director himself is here, and wishes access to the base. Yes, he has presented all of the necessary passcodes and identification. Yes. Alright, one moment.” He pressed a button on the comm.

  “Director Revval?” Asked the commander over the speaker.

  “In the flesh,” Corras replied. “As I was telling Lieutenant Aren, I need access to the data banks, for an important investigation I am conducting. I do not intend to remain here, and a distraction, for long.”

  “Very well. Lieutenant, give him whatever he needs.” The line abruptly cut off.

  “Welcome to Fayren base, Director,” said Lieutenant Aren.

  “Thank you,” Corras replied, then nodded to his escorts and proceeded forward, while out the corners of his eyes ensured that the rest of the team was on their way as well.

  So far, so good. Now also armed with the approval of the commander, Corras’s progress was unimpeded, up until the entry to the archive building, where an IRSS agent that Corras recognized, but did not know all that well, stood, concentrating on a pad held in his hand.

  “Director Revval,” he said as he looked up. “I wasn’t informed of your arrival.” There was clearly some measure of surprise there, but not anything like what had happened with the lieutenant on the landing pad. Curious.

  “An unfortunate necessity. I imagine, from your posting here, that you are overseeing the security.” It was unusual, but not unprecedented.

  The agent nodded. “The rebels have become more bold, and the Alliance intelligence operation has only grown. Key facilities need extra protection.”

  “Very sensible. Now, if you could grant me access, I would very much appreciate it.”

  “Just a few things first, sir. Finger, please,” he said, and produced a small device that Corras new instantly to be a blood sampler.

  “Is this truly necessary? I gave no orders for such measures.”

  “With respect, sir, you have been on leave. In fact, officially you still are. Which raises questions.”

  Corras frowned, but pressed his finger onto the sample, and did not wince or flinch as the needle drew blood. Moments l
ater, the device confirmed that he was, in fact, who he claimed to be. “There are advantages to people thinking one is on leave, Agent,” Corras said sharply as he forced some nervousness away. “While such things are not publicly announced, enemy intelligence often does learn of it, and will alter their plans of action accordingly. Now, let me pass.”

  “You have been home this whole time?”

  “Much of it. Until I departed to follow a strong lead that led me here, I was with my family, though not always at home. And no, Agent, I will not be summarizing each day for you. My identity is confirmed. Now, do not make me order you to step aside.”

  The agent did not immediately respond, and Corras spotted a nearly invisible earpiece in his left ear, which he was likely receiving instructions through. “Very well,” he finally said. “The lift will be unlocked; I am sure you know your way around.”

  Corras nodded without saying thanks; it was what he would have done had he still been at his post, and entered the building, then the elevator.

  “Be on guard,” he said to his companions as it began to rise. “I fear that something may be amiss.”

  Half a minute later, the doors opened. And Corras found himself face to face with none other than Lothaer. Who looked both hostile and entirely too pleased with himself.

  “Hello, Corras. I thought I might find you here.”

  CHAPTER 45

  The River Lark dropped out of hyperspace at the instructed coordinates, and Ayil stared out at the utterly unimpressive, shell-shaped station in orbit around the dull brown moon before them.

  “This is the place?” Liya asked.

  “It’s what the message said,” Dran replied.

  Ayil ran a quick scan. “I’m not detecting any ships, but if there are any docked in that station, I wouldn’t be able to see them anyway.

  “Well, then, at least if this is a trap, we have a little bit of time.“Liya quipped.

  “Any sign of our contact?” Ayil asked. She normally liked such humor, but it was too quiet here, and that made her nervous.