A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  As the Felinar shuddered under enemy fire, consoles overloading as the shields dropped precipitously, Nayasar noticed on the tactical display, several Legion Navy vessels that were not currently engaged with her forces suddenly explode.

  “Srei Felitzvah, the interdictor gravity wells, they’re vanishing!”

  For the first time since the betrayal, Nayasar felt the warm feeling of hope. “The Snevans?” Several of their lighter ships could have been fast enough to pull something like that off.

  “No, it’s the Daeris! We are being hailed.”

  “Patch them through.”

  “Grand Admiral,” said the Daeris officer who appeared, “I bring greetings from Domignuss Arecar, and I want to assure you that we had no knowledge of this betrayal; apparently the rest of the Alliance did not trust my people enough, though they have not attacked us, either. Our window of effectiveness will be shut all too soon, so I would advise you make your exit immediately.”

  “I… I don’t know how to thank you,” Nayasar replied quickly. “Contact us once you make your escape as well.”

  He nodded. “Good luck, Grand Admiral.”

  “All ships,” Nayasar broadcast moments later to all her allies. “The enemy interdictors are down. Make the jump to hyperspace immediately, follow Survival Protocol.”

  Nayasar waited just long enough to see ships begin to jump out, then turned to her own crew. “Take us out of here,” she said.

  Moments later, the Felinar made the jump, but Nayasar couldn’t relax. How many ships, how many lives, had they just lost? When victory had been so close? And what would happen now? They would be hopelessly outnumbered, out positioned, and with no foreseeable route forward that involved them remaining free.

  And then there was Felivas.

  Felivas.

  Nayasar felt her throat constrict, her eyes go dry. “Captain, you have command,” she said quickly, around a cough. “I… I’ll be in my quarters; keep me updated on the situation.”

  Without another word, Nayasar left the command deck and practically ran back to her quarters. Only once there, away from her crew, did Nayasar collapse and let tears fall. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

  Please be alive, was the dominant thought in her mind. If this battle had taken her beloved from her forever, Nayasar didn’t know what would happen to her.

  Please be alive, Felivas. I will come for you, but you need to be there.

  CHAPTER 60

  Keeneye stood on the observation deck of the Sarcendar, command of which Darkclaw had returned to him upon the fleet’s return to Voran’dus, and stared out at the ships arrayed around the planet. As many Tyrannodon and Snevan ships as there were, however, Keeneye knew that so much had been lost when the Alliance had betrayed them. The Tyrannodon Armada had lost nearly a third of its ships, as had the Snevans, with the Felinaris having fared only slightly better—though they had lost Admiral Kharitzon as well.

  Keeneye’s hand tightened on the railing in front of him. A valued friend and colleague, to whom his people owed so much, was now either dead or a Revittan prisoner, and all because they had failed to see what was happening around them. In hindsight, it all made complete sense. They had never been beating the Revittans, not really. The plot between them and the Alliance had been something carefully hidden and planned out, to lead to that massive battle where the Alliance could end the war in addition to ridding themselves of old enemies. Or so they had planned. The defection of almost forty percent of the Talvostan fleet, which was now stationed at Felinar, and the quick-thinking of the small Daeris fleet, had given the Tyrannodons, Snevans, and Felinaris the ability to flee and live to fight again.

  As hard as he was taking it, however, Keeneye knew that both Darkclaw and Nayasar were taking it harder, blaming themselves for their predicament while struggling to cope with the losses they had taken. He had only seen Nayasar once since the battle, and she looked almost like a corpse; tired, distraught, barely responsive. Omnipresent willing, she would recover in time to be of use in the war to come.

  Already, the enemy had struck Sneva, and, given its distance from both Voran’dus and Felinar, Darkclaw had made the difficult choice to not defend their ally’s home, in favor of consolidating what ships they had around a more defensible region.

  The Snevans had not taken it well, of course, and their home defense fleet, Nest Flight, had refused to abandon their posts. According to intelligence reports, it had been all-but wiped out. But in doing so, they had bought precious time for the rest of the fleet, as well as key Snevan personnel, to evacuate, and had dealt a heavy blow to their enemies.

  Keeneye looked to his multitool as an update notification came in. The miniscule Daeris fleet—the remains of the already small force that had saved them all back at the battle, had managed to escape Alliance-controlled space with Domignuss Arecar in tow. According to them, their planet was technically free, but in reality was under Alliance control, with a blockade monitoring all ship traffic and Legion Navy troops quietly occupying the planet’s governmental and few military installations. There was no guarantee of additional Talvostan reinforcements; those that had defected already were likely all of those willing to do so, though several of the officers had indicated that Premier Volistar had opposed any traitorous actions, but his wishes had been ignored by much of the high command, which had also not informed him, or most of the fleet until the moment came, which explained how things had played out with them. Keeneye wasn’t sure what to truly believe. If they did have more, repressed or secret support among the Talvostans, however, it could be something to make use of later. But that was Darkclaw’s domain. Keeneye didn’t have the first idea of how to start planning to fight a war like this.

  Another notification pinged, letting him know that the Custoratis and Custorellatus kings had arrived. Keeneye knew what they were likely to ask.

  “It is good to see you alive and unharmed,” said the Custoratis King Veilan as they entered.

  Keeneye nodded. “The enemy will quickly learn that we are not so easily defeated.”

  “We wish to play our part in this fight,” said the Custorellatus king, Shahan. “I have learned much about this new world, and I understand that we do not have much to contribute when it comes to fighting with warships. But there is more than one dimension to war, and your enemies, our enemies, will not be expecting us.”

  “The High Executor will not like it, but I believe he would agree that we have to make use of everything, and everyone, at our disposal. Rest assured, we will find a way for you to help us.”

  “Thank you,” said Veilan, the Custoratis king. “We have no desire to be a burden. Any enemy of the Heirs of the Creators is an enemy of our people.”

  Keeneye went quiet for a moment as he considered something. He probably should ask Darkclaw before taking any unilateral decisions, but these were desperate times, and Darkclaw was not here.

  “In three hours, we will have a war council,” he said. “If you wish, you can wait on the Sarcendar and join me then.” If they were to play a role in the fight to come, they deserved to know what was happening.

  The two kings looked at each other for a moment, then they both nodded to Keeneye. “Thank you,” said Veilan. “I am certain that there will be much we do not understand, but we will work to not be a burden. For now, we will inform our people that we will be away for longer.”

  “Of course. One of my soldiers can show you to a communications console.”

  The kings thanked him again, then departed.

  Alone once again, Keeneye dimmed the lights and turned to look out at the fleet again, where small repair vessels flitted between the massive warships, carrying out both routine maintenance and repairs; there were so many ships among those that had escaped the trap laid by the Empire and Alliance that still needed work, and time was of the essence. With the enemy all but finished securing the Selakar system, their next targets would logically be Voran’dus or Felinar, and knowing the Allian
ce, the latter was more likely.

  They had to be ready, and somehow, they had to figure out a way to not just survive the coming attack, but fight back against both the Alliance and the Revittan Empire. If anyone could devise a strategy for that, it would be Darkclaw, but even for him it would be a monumental challenge.

  So instead of a war being over, now we have a new, even more difficult battle to fight.

  Keeneye had been tired of warfare, and could not believe that as recently as a few days earlier, had wanted nothing more than peace and a different path for himself and the rest of the Tyrannodons.

  But things had changed. Now the freedom, the very existence, of not just his own people, but those of his friends, was directly threatened by an enemy who had demonstrated just how far they were willing to go. There was no doubt in Keeneye’s mind now. He would do whatever it took, whatever Darkclaw thought it would take, to win this war, destroy those who had betrayed them, and bring safety and security to his people, the Felinaris, Snevans, and the others who deserved it.

  And if the enemy had killed his friend Felivas, he would make sure that those responsible died painful deaths. While their victory, or even survival, was far from certain, Keeneye knew that in not wiping them out over the Revittan capital, their enemies had unwittingly forged an enemy that would not relent. There would be a reckoning.

  CHAPTER 61

  After his escape from the Imperial forces, the journey home had, fortunately, been uneventful.

  Triad dropped out of hyperspace, and smoothly steered toward the metal-encased world before him. Over many years, the smooth, logical, efficient, and beautiful Gurshen infrastructure had spread to encase the entirety of the world granted to them by the Pact.

  As the docking bay door sealed behind him, Triad stepped out of his ship, approached the nearest vacant wall alcove, and stepped inside.

  Moments later, a blue light began to glow, and a pair of wires emerged and connected to his body.

  By the time his consciousness fully linked to the Collective moments later, he was aware that the information he had brought had already been disseminated and analysis had begun.

  After another several seconds, a general consensus had been reached based on the information.

  The Empire had dragged the Gurshen into war on false pretenses, and an outside force had played a role in those decisions.

  Between this and the more recent news, which Triad only learned of now through the link, that the Empire had made a deal with the Galactic Alliance to wipe out certain Galactic Alliance members, made it clear that there was something larger at play, something dangerous to both the Gurshen and the galaxy as a whole. Perhaps this force seeking dominion over the galaxy had attempted to remove from play those they could not control. Fortunately, they had not entirely succeeded, which meant that the Gurshen had potential allies.

  What the Empire, and the Galactic Alliance, has done was unjust, that much was agreed upon by all.

  But what action will the Collective take?

  “We could remain quiet and neutral in this conflict, and carry on our relationship with the Empire as before.”

  “But what will happen when this malicious force decides the Collective is a force that cannot be controlled and must be eliminated?”

  “With no weapons at this time, we cannot go to war.”

  “There are other ways to fight beyond direct force of arms. We can maintain a veneer of normalcy while working to gather information that could help the enemies of the Empire, at least for a time. Unit TR-14D’s recent experiences demonstrate that we are largely not considered a threat, and even if we are, the Revittan Empire will, for a time at least, work to pretend that all is unchanged and the Pact is still in effect, or risk widespread panic and confusion. Even once the Empire cuts us off, they will first combat those they deem immediate military threats before they turn their fleets to us.”

  “Do we intend to break the Pact and produce weapons?”

  “With the recent actions of the Empire, the Pact can be considered violated already. We owe the Empire nothing at this point. We must begin constructing weapons immediately, make use of what time we do have.”

  “Shall the Collective become directly involved with the enemies of the Empire at this stage?”

  “No, that would be premature. We will have to remain quiet as a group for the time being.”

  “With one exception,” the Collective decided quickly.

  “The unit TR-14D will be the Collective’s link to the rebellion; a means to relay information and coordinate actions.”

  Triad found the assignment surprising, but after brief consideration, accepted the role without argument. His previous unorthodox actions had already set him on a unique path, and he had already directly contacted the rebellion once already. The more Triad considered it, the more sense it made as well; more, he was pleased that he would not be sent to fill a role similar to what he had already held or remain here within the Collective. The fact that he had begun referring to himself by Minister Turon’s assigned nickname, Triad, instead of his activation designation was evidence enough that he was meant for something unique.

  “It is settled, then.”

  “Wait,” Triad interjected. “I agree with the consensus that we must stay unthreatening for the moment. However, those fighting our common enemies, the Tyrannodons, Felinaris, and others, might derive benefit from the knowledge that they are not alone in this fight. That they have allies within the Empire.”

  “Agreed,” came the response moments later, as they also indicated their approval of his suggestion to establish a protocol for Gurshen to alter their life signals in a specific manner as a quiet way to indicate distress and an alternative to self-termination. Such a thing had never been necessary before, but given his recent experience, it was only logical.

  “Prepare long-range, tight-band broadcast.”

  “You are not alone,” the Collective began a few moments later. “You have allies within the Empire, and we will do what we can to help. Together, we will find a way to survive, stop whatever is behind the start of this disastrous war and ensure freedom and safety for all of us. Take heart; despite how it may seem, all is not lost; the true fight has only just begun.”

  CHAPTER 62

  Nayasar opened her eyes with a start, and found herself in an unfamiliar location, a small, featureless white room, lit by some unknown source of light.

  Her heart began to race, and she instinctively drew one of her long knives. What had happened? Where was she? She couldn’t remember anything after the battle, the betrayal, and… Omnipresent preserve, Felivas…

  Her knees suddenly went weak, and all of the fear and despair came flooding back.

  “Nayasar,” came a loud, deep, disembodied voice.

  Her eyes snapped toward the source of the sound, but saw no one, nothing.

  “Nayasar, Do not allow despair any hold over you.”

  What? What in the galaxy was going on?

  “I see this may be too much to take in.”

  Moments later, a figure appeared in front of her. He looked similar to a Tehlman, but lacked the telltale eye crest. Beyond that, he looked positively ordinary; of average height, not much taller than she, with dark eyes, short hair of a similar color, and looked to have the lean but strong build common among Felinaris, and wore archaic corrective lenses on his face. He wore what Nayasar could only describe as an ancient, green military uniform that resembled those seen in historical films while also looking completely alien, as did the single alien word sewn onto its chest, and the words on a pin attached to a black cloth object thrust through a shoulder epaulet.

  A moment later, the room changed as well, to something that also looked like it came from a historical film. It was run-down, but looked functional, with a simple desk, chair, ancient telephone and radio, along with other miscellaneous military equipment, office supplies, and posters and papers on the walls featuring the same alien language.

 
“Is this better?” The soldier asked with a smile. Without waiting for a reply, he sat down behind the desk. “Please, sit.”

  Still struggling to understand what was happening, Nayasar settled herself in the other, fairly dilapidated chair.

  “What… what is happening?” She asked. “Where am I? Where are we?”

  He shrugged. “Having a conversation in a, hopefully, comfortable and relatable environment?”

  Suddenly, something clicked in Nayasar’s mind, and she drew in a sharp breath.

  “Are… are you Him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I… maybe? But why am I here?”

  “You are distraught, Nayasar, too close to your breaking point. But now, more than ever, you must remain strong. No challenge placed before you, however daunting or painful it may seem, is insurmountable. You have the strength you need; you only need to reach down and seize it.”

  Nayasar stared at the soldier, unsure of what to say.

  “Felivas,” she managed to get out . “Is he alive?” If this was truly a vision from the Omnipresent, he would know.

  The soldier smiled again. “What do you think?”

  “You do not know? Where are we?”

  “Your mind, Nayasar Khariah. As I already said, whoever I am, whoever you think I am, does not matter. What matters is what you do when you wake up.”

  So she was asleep, or otherwise unconscious. Was this some sort of fever dream, a creation of her over-stimulated subconscious? Or was her first thought the correct one? But surely she wasn’t worthy of such a thing.

  “What do I do?” Nayasar asked . She still felt lost.

  “I think you already know, Nayasar, but you want someone to guide you. Press onward, with the strength you know you have. You are in the place you are in for a reason, and you are the one your people need now.”