A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  “So far so good,” Nayasar said as the Felinar’s main batteries caught a Revittan cruiser mid-maneuver and cracked it open, while at the same time squadrons of Felinaris, Legion Navy, and Snevan fighters broke through an enemy fighter screen and began bombarding several of the small Revittan destroyers.

  It was only unfortunate that they had been unable to reach Felivas’s Nihluran agents and coordinate actions with the rebels against the Empire; they might have been able to draw some of this fleet away.

  A few minutes later, Nayasar received an order from Darkclaw to advance. She relayed the order, and, as one, the Alliance fleet pushed forward. She had to hand it to the Legion Navy and other Alliance mainstream forces; despite all of their complaining and presented weakness, they had thrown themselves into the planning of this attack, and they were playing their parts well, supporting the thrusts of the hardier Tyrannodon, Talvostan, and Snevan ships, in addition to supplying a portion of the interdictor warships on the battlefield’s periphery.

  Nayasar would not have it any other way. Taking the front, in addition to it being the Felinaris way to do things, would help politically, as many still blamed Felivas, and by extension the Felinaris, for the war’s start in the first place. Besides, there was a wager among the various commanders; the first one down on the planet would be owed free drinks for a year by the others. Darkclaw had not approved, but he had relented in taking part in the bet.

  “Cruiser wing, swing around, get a better firing position,” Nayasar ordered, “other wing, reposition to attack the enemy from below.”

  As they moved to obey, and the Alliance fleet continued to advance, a communication came in from Felivas.

  “We’ve got something weird going on here,” he said.

  Nayasar focused on their location on the tactical display, and saw some of the static platforms… moving. And then numerous small signatures appeared. “Some of those platforms aren’t platforms, Felivas, they’re carriers. Fighters inbound, a lot of them!”

  “I see it,” Felivas replied, and Nayasar heard him ordering fighters to protect his assault force.

  “Sending you some backup,” Nayasar said as she dispatched additional ships, in addition to alerting her reserve forces to be prepared for a summons at a moment’s notice.

  “We’ll have this under control soon,” Felivas said, even as several more of the disguised ships, large ones, somehow passed through the energy shield and began to fire on the Alliance fleet, which had continued to advance, though much of the Legion Navy and other mainstream Alliance fleets were a bit slow to move, and thus the brunt of the fire from the counterattacking Revittan fleet fell upon the Talvostans, Tyrannodons, and Snevans. For some reason, the Revittans were ignoring the somewhat further back Legion Navy forces this time; perhaps it was simply a matter of convenience, or they recognized certain fleets as greater threats.

  “You alright, Felivas?” Nayasar sent.

  “Yeah, we’re alright, just making slower progress. This was a neat trick pulled by that Sai’var, probably not the last we’ll see. But we are managing to deal with this one, and we will deal with the rest. The enemy mainly seems to be playing for time.’

  “That’s what it’s starting to look like.” Nayasar paused as the Felinar shook; several battlegroups of Revittan ships had broken through her offensive line and were firing on her.

  “Angle us to get all our guns on the lead ship,” Nayasar ordered, and tell the Mirmag and the Kitzabo to focus fire on its escort.”

  Nayasar sent a brief text update to Darkclaw, informing him of the situation, and almost immediately a wing of Tyrannodon ships angled to support her center as Talvostan and Legion Navy ships moved to fill the gaps they left.

  The enemy was buying the time they apparently wanted, but so far, despite Sai’var’s clever positioning and trick with the platforms, things were progressing.

  “Contact the supreme commander,” Nayasar ordered, “and tell him we should be advancing, keeping the pressure on the enemy as hard as possible. If we properly surround them, we can trap them between our guns and their own planetary shield.”

  The battle was far from over, but Nayasar could already smell victory, though it would be a hard-earned one.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Everything is ready?” Asharra asked Commander Varyn, her first officer onboard the Protector, as she walked through the base’s massive hangar where her shuttle was being prepped alongside most of the rebellion’s fighter squadrons. While most of their capital ships had some carrying capacity, the rebels, unlike a traditional military, relied on the speed of their attacks, and thus not needing to take even the minimal time to launch fighters helped a great deal, if it did require extra fuel for the fighters’ hyperdrives.

  The atmosphere was full of anticipation, but overall felt fairly relaxed. There were still nearly two hours until the fleet would depart for Fayren, plenty of time for the fighters to be fueled up, pilots readied, and anything else seen to.

  “Sure I can’t convince you to get in a fighter?” Asked a familiar voice, and Asharra turned to see Commodore Mierran overseeing the refueling of her personal Stinger-class fighter. There were few of the uniquely Imperial fighters in the rebel fleet, for various reasons, and it was arguably inferior to many of the types they did employ—though the commodore’s had been heavily modified—but Vilara had been an ace stinger pilot before she had defected, and she wouldn’t have flown a different ship.

  “I’m sure I’ll be more useful where I’ve been placed, on the bridge of a ship,” Asharra replied as she walked over, sidestepping a passing maintenance cart in the process. “Besides, it’s a big risk putting people of significant rank in those things.”

  The commodore smirked. “Sometimes a leader needs to be in such a position. But more to the point, some of those rumors going around make me think you’d be great. I’ve heard stories, from decades ago, back when—”

  “That time is past now, regardless of what I am or may have been,” Asharra said quickly. “Besides, even if I was willing, an operation as important as this one is certainly not the time for me to try something new.”

  “Fair enough.” Vilara sighed. “I know he’s proven himself, but I can’t feel completely comfortable relying on the director. I just hope he hasn’t overestimated himself, and that we don’t arrive to find the mission already a failure.”

  “He didn’t get to his former position for nothing. They’ll get it done.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Vilara said as Asharra strolled onward.

  About halfway across the hangar, she spotted a familiar, trashy-looking ship, and, while she didn’t see him, heard that familiar voice of Jahl, yelling at some people from within the ship.

  “They told me you three were techs! Why can’t you fix a simple power coupling right? If I wanted to do it all myself, I wouldn’t have let you touch her in the first place!”

  There was a brief period of silence, presumably while the poor, embattled technicians tried to reason with the smuggler, before he went off again.

  “No, that goes there, and this goes here. Yes, I know it’s not standard. That’s the point. It works better this way.”

  Some more silence.

  “You know what? Just get everything working. I have places to be, and if I get stranded somewhere unsafe because of a power short I’ll know just who to blame.”

  Asharra waited near the bottom of the boarding ramp, and arched an eyebrow at Jahl as he stomped down the ramp. “Going somewhere?”

  He rounded on her. “What do you—oh, it’s you. Sorry for that, it’s just, hard to find good help around here.”

  “You finally figured out a way to leave us?” Asharra asked.

  Jahl looked away for a moment. “Yes, well, I was basically tricked into joining up, and I have my own debts to pay. Apparently almost all of the Imperial fleet was repositioned to fight the Alliance, so I’ll have an easier time getting somewhere fairly safe.”

  “With yo
ur money, of course.”

  “Like I said, I have debts to pay. I mean, my time here hasn’t been all bad. You… you doing okay after that mission? If you want to talk about it, I can keep a secret.”

  Asharra smiled over at him. “You know, I think I believe you.”

  “Should I take that as an insult, praise, or some weird combination?”

  “Take your pick.” Asharra looked out at the busy hangar again, then felt her eyes drawn back to the smuggler. She was going to miss him, she knew. For some reason. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you to stay?”

  He shrugged. “Listen, I have nothing against your movement, really. I get why you’re doing this, and I wish you luck. But this is a hopeless cause, and I’ve lived as long as I have by making the smart choices. I’d try and convince you to do the same—and I could really use a partner of your skill—but I know you’d never do that.” He quieted for a moment. “Can we talk about what happened on that base? Because I have some questions.”

  Asharra thought for a moment. “How about we go get something to eat from one of the private vendors, and talk over lunch?”

  His face brightened immediately. “Sure, why not? Those lousy techs will probably need at least another hour or two to get the Eagle ready to fly.”

  Jahl stepped alongside Asharra, and they headed toward the back of the hangar, which led back into the base proper.

  Asharra alternated between looking out at the support crews scurrying around, the pilots lounging near their fighters, and the officers methodically making checks, and the abrasive but simultaneously thoughtful smuggler. By all logic, she should want nothing to do with him, and yet she found it hard to look away. Maybe it was because she saw in him a lone survivor that reminded her of a difficult period of her own life, or maybe it was the opposite, that she needed to let someone in.

  Could she afford to do that? Did she even have time for it? And if she did, how would she get him to stay?

  Asharra yearned to reach for the Shift, let it calm her, help guide her to a wise decision, but she resisted the urge. She’d only given in back on that mission because her life had literally been at risk. To do so here, especially with so many people around, was not an option.

  As they neared the entrance to the base proper, near which the leadership was conversing with some of their tacticians, Asharra heard some commotion.

  Danger?

  Unconsciously, she reached for and connected the Shift, but did nothing else as she located the source, a young Revittan wearing the uniform marking him as a communications officer.

  “Admiral Dahar!” He shouted, raising a hand.

  Finally he stopped just short of them, panting. A security officer stepped between him and the leaders, but Chancellor Vau held up a hand. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “Just received a transmission, information from that informant we sent those Alliance agents to meet. The Empire’s superweapon is fully operational, and scheduled to be moved very soon, and used in battle against the Alliance.”

  “If Director Revval’s information was accurate, the Alliance will stand no chance,” Asharra said as her heart began to race.

  Moyar nodded. “We have to go, now, with our entire fleet, and stop that from happening.”

  “Without the data from Fayren, we will likely not be able to destroy the weapon, however,” said General Orran.

  “We don’t have to destroy it,” Dahar replied, “only prevent it from traveling into battle.”

  “And what of the strike team on Fayren?” Asharra asked. “We promised them backup, and we do still need that information.”

  “The superweapon will have escort craft,” Dahar said. “We will need to bring as much of our fleet as possible to bear.”

  “I’ll take my squadron to Fayren,” Vilara said as she walked over. “We’ll have the greatest impact with the smallest force size.”

  Asharra looked from her to the leaders of the rebellion. They had to make a decision now, and it might come down to choosing the greater good over their friends.

  “Fine,” Dahar said as he pulled out his comm. “Attention all fleet personnel, attention all fleet personnel. With the exception of Warrior Squadron, all ships are to scramble for immediate departure. You will receive briefings from your commanders, and jump coordinates, once we are underway.”

  Asharra nodded to Moyar, and to Vilara, then sprinted for her shuttle as the emergency alarm began to blare, and what had been a busy, but calm scene in the hangar instantly became a frantic scramble of flight crews making sure fighters were ready, pilots rushing to suit up and running to their craft, and ship crews making for their shuttles.

  As she passed by the Eagle’s Talon again, she realized that Jahl had been running along with her. She stopped just as he did, and turned to him. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to go to the raid of a small base; I’m sure as hell not willing to throw myself into a fight with an Imperial fleet.”

  Asharra wanted to yell at him, to argue, but there wasn’t time, and she knew she wouldn’t win. “I hope your payment makes up for the inconvenience all this has caused you. Stay safe.”

  “Asharra—” Jahl began to reply, but Asharra began running to her shuttle, and didn’t look back. Focus on the mission. She could deal with the disappointment later.

  Her fellow officers were already on the shuttle when she arrived, and it began to lift off even as the boarding ramp closed behind her.

  Asharra tried to calm herself as the shuttle shot up toward her ship, the Protector. They were risking everything, jumping into this battle without any information save for the fact that the superweapon was there. But what choice did they have? If the Alliance was defeated, the Empire would bring its full force to bear on the rebellion, and with Sai’var now in complete command of the navy, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Despite herself, Asharra opened herself to the Shift, and let the calming sensation of power wash over her. It helped, somewhat.

  May the Shift’s flow carry us forward in safety. They would need all the help they could possibly get.

  CHAPTER 50

  “Ah, Lothaer, it’s great to see you,” Corras said immediately, his training on and experience in dealing with sensitive situations kicking in immediately. “What brings you here?”

  “Security concerns,” Lothaer replied, eyeing Corras warily. He’d lost some of the smugness after Corras had replied smoothly, without worry, but Corras was still certain that his deputy’s presence here was no coincidence. “Rebels have been more active recently, and given the other security issues we’ve had during your absence, I decided to come here personally. You chose a very poor time to go on leave, Director. During these last few weeks there have been several significant and suspicious incidents. A breakout from a prison ship, destruction of at least one Imperial base at rebel hands, and more recently, a rogue office worker apparently absconded with a great deal of data.”

  “I trust that you have things under control,” Corras said as he began to circle Lothaer, eyes on the younger man while he also surreptitiously began to scan the room for any concealed troopers or other dangers. “I hope I did not overestimate your abilities.”

  “I am not the one we need to talk about, old friend,” Lothaer said. “It is certainly interesting to note that in your absence things have gone badly. Your family is well, I trust? I have heard rumors that they have been out of contact for some time.”

  Corras smiled. “We did some traveling; time together has been hard to come by these last several years. However, I decided that my duty to the Empire required me to leave them early to pursue a lead that an independent source of mine provided. That trail has led me here, for information that will help me predict where the rebels intend to strike. I trust that you do not intend to cause me trouble, Lothaer. I have already told you that I intend to retire before too long, and to hand control of the IRSS to you. Attempting some sort of power pl
ay now would be a very poor decision.”

  Lothaer laughed. “You wish that this was about political power, my old friend. You play a very good game, old man, but for the sake of all your years of service, do not waste my time.”

  “If you have an accusation to make, Lothaer, make it,” Corras said. “But bear in mind what the consequences of such an accusation could be.”

  “I’m not making any accusations, Director. I’m just trying to solve a puzzle. See, the list of people who knew about that prison ship is very small, and considering the other security breaches, it stands to reason that the rebels somehow know of Final Awakening, which should be impossible… unless they had someone on the inside, someone with high levels of access.” He smiled. “But even someone with as high an access level as you wouldn’t have access to Final Awakening data. Then, out of the blue, you show up here, looking for just that. Is there anyone else who could have had the skill and means to work with a renegade Gurshen to steal a great deal of hidden data? Something is not adding up.”

  “Of course the rebels are plotting against us,” Corras said. “That is why I am here. I have received intel regarding a rebel attempt to sabotage Final Awakening, and a lead as to the location of their main base. What you are doing now is wasting valuable time.” They were going to cut it close to their time limit, and the risk of something going wrong grew by the minute.

  “Then why all the radio silence, Director? Something could have been sent, and you could have officially returned from leave. You wouldn’t have had to hitch a ride in a transport shuttle.”

  “You are not entitled to every piece of information.”

  “True. But I think your family would be interesting to talk to, though as I said, they seem to have vanished.”

  “Careful, Lothaer,” Corras replied. Surely, at some point, his deputy would have to relent with no obvious evidence to take action based on his suspicions.

  “You, soldier!” Lothaer snapped toward Reki, the nearest of Corras’s two guards. “What is your mission protocol code?”