Rimward Stars (Castle Federation Book 5)

by Glynn Stewart

  Kanaan shook his head, his eyes almost as dark as his skin.

  “Captain Sarka remains in surgery as I record this. The prognosis is positive but it looks like she’ll lose her right arm and the one organic eye she had left. Our casualties were…heavy. We’re still sorting out the exact details, but we’re at almost two thousand KIA and MIA, plus a thousand wounded.”

  Kyle winced. Alexander was a big, modern ship, but her crew was still barely over five thousand people. Sixty percent of the crew of one of his ships was wounded or dead, and they’d lost over half their firepower.

  “Fortunately, we have enough Stetson stabilizer emitters to maintain both inner and outer fields, so we are capable of FTL.” Kanaan shook his head. “Some of the worst damage was when we went FTL, but there was no way we could fight without engines.

  “I think Captain Sarka made the right call. I’ll be in touch again once I have a more complete damage report and an update on the Captain’s condition, sir.

  “Alexander out.”

  Kyle was glad he’d kept the actual partial damage report that had accompanied Kanaan’s message to his own console. The rest of the crew on the bridge for the late-night FTL dark watch was looking shaky enough when he turned his gaze on them.

  “Alexander just got jumped by almost half again her mass and cubage in warships,” he pointed out to them. “And she’s still with us.”

  Barely. From the sounds of Kanaan’s description, Captain Sarka’s ship was a wreck. Fortunately, however, she was an FTL-capable wreck, which had saved the lives of everyone left aboard. Humanity’s ability to deliver energy to target had far outstripped their ability to protect those targets—a ship would usually survive a single one-gigaton antimatter warhead, but it wasn’t something you could rely on. She would almost never survive two.

  “Both Alexander and her convoy are headed to Serengeti,” he continued. “So are we after Reinhardt. We’ll meet them there and we’ll make sure everyone’s okay, but there’s nothing we can do until everyone gets there.

  “There’s definitely no point in panicking, understand?”

  “Do you want us to keep this quiet?” one of the Chiefs asked, glancing at the tiny dark watch crew.

  “No,” Kyle replied after a moment’s thought. “I’ll include it in the morning all-hands update. Just don’t go spreading panic, all right, people?”

  “We’re the Castle Federation Space Navy, sir,” the same Chief replied. “We don’t panic.”

  “Good.” Kyle shook his head. “Ping Commander Taggart and Vice Commodore Song for me, plus Mr. Nebula,” he ordered. “Have them meet me in my office in thirty minutes. Then get ahold of Captain von Lambert, let him know I’ll want him, his XO, and his CAG on video conference at the same time.”

  That would give them time to shower and put clothes on. This was important, but with Alexander and her charges clear of Salvatore, it wasn’t truly urgent.

  He still wasn’t going to wait until morning to check in with the Alliance Joint Chiefs.

  #

  The diplomat and his two senior officers stumbled into his office exactly on schedule, slumping into seats and gratefully accepting the cups of hot coffee Kyle’s steward pressed on them. From the looks of it, all three had been sleeping. His wallscreen showed Captain von Lambert’s office aboard Thoth, where the three senior officers of the Imperial ship were in a similar situation. From von Lambert’s posture, Kyle guessed he’d heard…but his officers hadn’t.

  “Our entire situation just changed, people,” he told them calmly once everyone had taken at least a few swallows of caffeine. “I received preliminary reports from Alexander’s arrival in Salvatore half an hour ago, and things just went to shit.”

  “I take it that it wasn’t a quiet stopover,” Nebula said.

  “No. Alexander was jumped by a fleet of pirate ships, sixteen of the modular corsairs we know were involved in Crusader’s destruction…and a Hercules-class Terran Commonwealth Navy battlecruiser.”

  His office was suddenly very, very quiet.

  “Captain Sarka successfully protected the convoy she was guarding and escaped into FTL,” Kyle continued. “Unfortunately, while I haven’t received final damage assessments, it appears that Alexander was badly damaged in the fight. We’re looking at somewhere in the region of three thousand casualties, fatal and otherwise, and a fifty-percent reduction in firepower along with significant hull damage.

  “I’m going to wait until the final survey by her engineers, but I suspect we’re sending Alexander home—and being happy we’re still sending her home in one piece.”

  “Damn. That’s…a lot more than a third of our firepower,” von Lambert pointed out. “Alexander was our most powerful ship.”

  “Which I suspect is why they went after her,” Kyle replied. “They were making a point. I doubt the ass-kicking that Sarka handed them was the point they were after, but we got the message loud and clear: the Terrans are out here, and they’re working with the local pirates.”

  “That makes sense,” Nebula said. “A lot of my contacts have said that the main pirate group out here has been growing bolder lately, and Crusader was taken down by modern munitions. It would make sense if a Commonwealth task group had moved in and made an alliance with the bastards.”

  “Then why reveal themselves now?” Song asked. “If they’ve gone this long without even being identified…”

  “They’re making a point,” Kyle repeated. “They want us to know they’re here now. We sent a task group to deal with pirates, and they’re trying to show us it won’t be enough. They want a major force deployment out here—which will weaken us back home.”

  “So, we can’t even ask for help?” Taggart demanded.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Kyle told them. “We have a carrier, a strike cruiser and a bomber wing. Even assuming the Terrans have two Herculeses out here, which I’m afraid is reasonable, we can take them.”

  “That’s…that’s daring, sir,” Taggart replied. “Do we really think the bombers will make that much difference?”

  “Yes,” Song cut in. “Having watched Williams’s people in training? They can make up the different in weight, especially if the Terrans don’t see them coming.”

  “We’ll need to make sure we do this carefully and we do this right,” Kyle warned his officers. “Alexander is five and a half days out of Serengeti. Cutting our stop in Reinhardt to the bare minimum, we’re seven days out ourselves.

  “Put your brains to work, people. By the time we’re all in Serengeti, I want a plan for getting the Terrans to fight us—on our terms.”

  #

  At this point, Kyle would have had to consult his implant and consciously analyze data to be certain how many times he’d spoken with Fleet Admiral Meredith Blake, the commanding officer of the Castle Federation Space Navy. He’d never met her in person, but the q-com-enabled video conference he found himself in at midnight ESMDT wasn’t the first long-distance conversation they’d had.

  He had actually met Sky Marshal Octavian von Stenger in person now, though that didn’t make being in a conference with two of the senior members of the Alliance Joint Chiefs any less intimidating.

  “Thank you for finding the time to speak with me,” he told them.

  “We were the members of the Joint Chiefs awake, Captain Roberts,” Blake replied. “Conveniently, we were also the ones with ships out there. From the priority of your message, I’m assuming our worst-case scenario has been confirmed?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kyle said instantly. “Alexander was engaged by a TCN Hercules-class battlecruiser. The Terran had the support of a local pirate fleet of significantly greater strength than we expected as well, and Alexander was badly damaged.

  “While final judgment will wait until we’re all at Serengeti and can review her status in detail, I suspect we’re sending Alexander home,” he warned them. “My current estimate is that we are facing a Hercules, likely an additional equivalent Terran warship,
and a pirate fleet of roughly equal combat capability to another Hercules.”

  The two Admirals on his screen exchanged a tired glance.

  “I’m not sure we’re in a position to reinforce you,” von Stenger finally said.

  “Most of our free units have been deployed forward in Operation Third Catacomb,” Blake added. “We’ve drawn the defenders at Via Somnia out of position, and Seventh Fleet is about to bring the hammer down on a Commonwealth Fleet Base for the first time since the last war.”

  “But between Fourth Fleet, Seventh Fleet, and the task forces supporting Seventh Fleet, the cupboard is bare, Captain,” the Imperial said. He exhaled, considering. “I can probably convince the Imperator to…”

  “No,” Kyle cut him off. “I have two capital ships, one of them equipped with a bomber wing, and I know my enemy now. I wouldn’t turn down reinforcements, sirs, but we can’t strip the home systems of any of the core Alliance powers—that’s what Walkingstick wants. If he can punch out Castle or Coraline, the war is over.”

  “Captain, this is not the time for ego or pride to get in the way,” Blake pointed out. “We owe the systems of the Antioch-Serengeti Free Trade Zone our protection, and if it’s a Commonwealth fleet out there, then it is now an Alliance problem.”

  “Ma’am, I’m not sure we’d get any ships out here in time to make a difference,” he admitted. “This situation needs to be resolved fast or the Zone may well collapse under the damage already done.

  “Since that’s the case, I can’t justify asking for reinforcements that have to come from the Home Fleets.”

  “Is there anything we can do, Captain Roberts?” Blake asked.

  “Distance is the biggest factor, ma’am,” he admitted. “I’m grateful to the Sky Marshal for making sure that Thoth was with us. Without her, we’d be facing a serious fight I’m not sure even cleverness and aggression could carry.”

  “Cleverness and aggression are useful weapons, Captain Roberts, but they are not miracles.”

  “No, ma’am,” he agreed. “My people perform the miracles. We’ll make it happen.”

  Somehow.

  Blake shook her head.

  “Pull this off, Roberts, and both the Federation and the Alliance will be in your debt.”

  “Again,” von Stenger added. “Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.”

  #

  Chapter 26

  Deep Space en route to Reinhardt System

  10:00 October 30, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-052 Kodiak

  “It’s good to see you, Captain Sarka. After I heard the extent of your injuries, I was more than a little worried,” Kyle told his subordinate over the q-com link. “As it is, I think he must have been exaggerating. You look as good as I’ve ever seen you.”

  “God, Roberts, I didn’t think I was that ugly,” Sarka replied with a chuckle that rapidly turned into a wince. Her right arm and eye had been replaced with blocky metal emergency prostheses. “I can barely see or use the damn arm, but it’s better than nothing. The docs tell me both will learn, and either I can keep these—which work just fine once they’ve learned—or transfer the software to a proper cybernetic like my other eye.”

  “So far, I’ve managed to avoid needing those,” he admitted, “though at least you missed needing a neural implant regrown.”

  “I’m currently just mentally complaining about every single person I know who’s had limbs regenerated,” Sarka told him. “Bitching at them in my head helps distract from the fact that my face hurts.”

  “I read your doctor’s report,” Kyle replied, the humor fading. “You need to be transferred to a top-line hospital, preferably groundside back home. You might not regen, but you’re still due a new limb and a month of physical therapy.”

  “I’m not even the worst hurt on my crew,” she admitted. “Modern medicine is wonderful, but…” She shrugged eloquently. “I lost a lot of people, and some of those who lived won’t even walk for a while. At least being allergic to standard regen means they do sticks these chunks of circuitry on me straight away.”

  The emergency cybernetics were perfectly functional, but the process of installing any cybernetic rendered regen almost impossible. Doctors preferred not to install them, giving up immediate functionality for the ability to fully restore the patient later.

  “You saved the entire convoy, Captain Sarka,” Kyle told her. “I’ve reviewed Alexander’s automatic after-action report, though I look forward to both your and Kanaan’s commentary on it, and I can’t see anything you could have done differently. They brought overwhelming force and you kicked it back in their teeth.

  “Gods, Captain, you did well,” he insisted. “And my own report on the affair will reflect that.”

  “Thank you, sir. What happens now?”

  “Well, since someone sensibly set her scatter point at Serengeti and that’s where I’m heading, we all rendezvous there. From there, I think Alexander will likely be heading home with the wounded—most definitely including you, Captain Sarka—and the rest of us are going hunting.”

  “I’m almost more bothered by the pirates than the Commonwealth,” she admitted. “They had Cobras, sir. A lot of Cobras—and those modular ships of theirs are no slouches, either. Shitty deflectors, but four missile launchers and God only knows what for lances, plus able to combine multiple ships to make a single A-S bubble?”

  “My chief engineer is, for once, not bored and causing trouble because of that,” Kyle replied with a soft chuckle. “She’s says it shouldn’t be possible, but if it is, she’s damn well going to work out how… and perhaps more importantly, if the ships built to do it are vulnerable somehow.”

  “So, you’re going to take them on?” Sarka asked.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ve got a few plans I’m mulling through, and I’m looking forward to hearing from the rest of the team. We’ll get these bastards, Kristyna. Commonwealth and pirate alike.”

  She sighed, shaking her head.

  “I’ve talked to the merchant skippers out here,” she said. “These pirates…they’re as bad as a bad lot comes. They don’t do ransoms. They just kill their victims, make sure there’s no witnesses. That kind of atrocity…”

  “It’s out of character for the Terrans,” he agreed. “Even when their fanatics fall into atrocity, it’s a grander level of grotesque than that. Worlds burned, not crews raped.

  “Believe me, if the Commonwealth has hitched their wagon to these scum, my sympathy for any of them is limited. I’m going to see all of the bastards burn, Terran and local pirate alike.”

  “Damn it, sir, now you’ve got me wishing I could stay and hand you the matches.”

  “You need two good arms to hand me enough matches,” he said with a chuckle. “I need you to go home and heal. We need every Conqueror we can get, and I’m not losing one because I was stupid enough to send a crippled ship into a fight.

  “Understand, Captain Sarka?”

  #

  After Alexander’s encounter in the Salvatore system, Kyle made certain that his entire crew was awake and on duty when Kodiak arrived in Reinhardt. For himself, the distraction was welcome. Being on duty meant he wasn’t thinking about the fact that Mira was apparently commanding the flagship of one of the biggest offensives the Alliance had launched to date.

  “Emergence complete,” Houshian reported. “All ships on target and on vector for Schwarzwald.”

  “Sterling? Any unexpected visitors?” Kyle asked his tactical officer.

  “I’m reading a small number of sublight ships in orbit of Schwarzwald and two squadrons of Typhoons on a high-orbit patrol,” the older officer replied. “Nothing outside the immediate vicinity of the Schwarzwald planetary system, nothing big enough to be A-S-capable and nothing I’d call hostile.”

  “Good,” Kyle acknowledged. Reinhardt’s main economic drivers were the massive open pit mines on Schwarzwald’s “moon” Rhine, an airless planet seventy percent of the h
abitable world’s size but completely lacking in atmosphere. Orbiting foundries above Schwarzwald and Rhine churned the products of those strip mines into raw metals and simple products that had been sold across the region even before the Free Trade Zone.

  Schwarzwald itself, while habitable, was a harsh world for humanity to live on. Much of the profits and production of the heavy industrialization of Rhine went to simply keeping the two hundred million people in the system alive and comfortable despite their cold and tectonically active planet.

  The history in his implants suggested that this was hardly the first time Schwarzwald had needed emergency food shipments, though the scale was new—and the delay was more than anyone would have anticipated.

  “Let them know we’re here,” he told Jamison. “They should be glad to see our two grocery carts.”

  “I may phrase that more politely when I speak to them, sir,” she said repressively, and he grinned at her. It was a forced thing, but he was reasonably sure his crew couldn’t tell.

  He had a lot of practice appearing more cheerful than he might feel.

  “Anteater and Golden Aurochs are beginning their acceleration toward Schwarzwald,” Sterling reported.

  “Take us after them, Houshian,” Kyle ordered. “Nice and slow.”

  “Sir, I have Anteater’s Captain on a q-com channel for you,” Jamison reported.

  “Put her on,” he told her.

  A very pale-skinned woman with a burgundy hijab appeared on his screen, an easy smile marking Captain Al-Assani’s face.

  “Captain Roberts, I’ve been speaking with Captain Berenstein aboard Golden Aurochs,” she told him. “We heard about Alexander and, well, this system looks pretty clear to us. Are you seeing anything we’ve missed?”

  “Our sensors aren’t seeing much either,” he agreed, wondering where she was going.

  “If you can get the Reinhardt Space Force to, say, send one of those starfighter squadrons out to meet us, I think we can get ourselves the rest of the way if you want to head on to Serengeti.”