Six of the eight forward cruisers wheeled away, their hulls ablaze from impacts and secondary detonations. A handful of smaller craft were nearly obliterated by the torpedoes, and the remainder ran headlong into the missiles that had followed from all angles. It was a kaleidoscope of explosions that seemed to engulf the entire first half of the Oduran formation; those struggled out of holocaust of fire were met by railgun salvoes further shattered their formation.
Even as chaos engulfed the first half of the Oduran ships, Jacob’s eyes went to where the second group was leaving the passage. He gave the tactical a cold smile and touched the control to signal Isaac and the other commanders of the Knight-class cruisers. “Formations Delta, Gamma, commence attack runs immediately. Concentrate your fire on their cruisers. Formation Beta, use sailjammers to prevent enemy ships from escaping by riftjumps.”
The Knight-class ships swept down and through the enemy formation, their plasma lances lashing through their remaining ships. Cruisers were seared in half, destroyers wheeled away with their hulls gutted, and the few remaining converted merchantmen were massacred. The Odurans were trying to fight back, but they had no real hope of escaping those attack runs. Here and there a Celostian ship took enough damage to fall out of formation or explode, but the grand majority of the Navy ships survived.
Jacob watched the slaughter, sickened by the ease of it yet knowing how necessary it was. He couldn’t afford for these ships to reach the Union, nor could he let them return to the League. Every single one of them, unless they surrendered, would remain a threat to the peace and safety of his people. Yet none of those cold facts comforted him much as the Odurans and separatists fell victim to their own foolish pride.
Then the signals officer straightened up. “Sir! We have a transmission from the enemy. They’re surrendering.”
“All ships, cease fire! Repeat, cease fire!” Jacob’s fingers curled into claws on his chair’s armrests. The discipline of the Navy crews was the only thing he could hope for to stop the slaughter, and for an instant it seemed as if it wouldn’t be enough.
One by one, the Celostian ships stopped firing, though. To Jacob’s surprise, Isaac’s ships stopped even quicker than most. As the avalanche of fire slackened, the remaining Odurans began to extend their dark energy sails in surrender, decelerating as quickly as their damage and positions allowed. Jacob touched another control, and spoke carefully. “High Admiral Jacob Hull to Oduran task force. Your surrender is contingent on a sincere offer of truce between the Celostian Union and the Grand Alliance. All of the Grand Alliance—the League, Telos, and San Marcos. Do you understand this?”
Yeseti’s voice came back a moment later, defeat plain in her words. The former Celostian admiral sounded numb, as if the sheer enormity of her losses had shocked her beyond words. “I understand, Admiral Hull. The task force will surrender, and an armistice is declared. Formal acknowledgement of the peace treaty will follow, with endorsement by the Collective of San Marcos and the probable endorsement of the Sessors Administration.”
“Good.” Jacob felt relief hit him like a blow. All of the lives that had been sacrificed, all of the pain his people had gone through, had finally led to this moment. The enemy was defeated—not just in a battle or a campaign, but broken in a way that meant they would not be able to return. An armistice could easily turn into a lasting peace, and the Union would finally be free of the threats that had been lurking on its Frontier for his entire life. It was a dream he’d hoped for, but had never quite expected to live to see.
Jacob held all of those emotions for a small moment. Then he squared his shoulders. “In light of the current situation, please stand by to evacuate your vessels. I want all of your crew put on escape pods and shuttles, and Marine boarding teams will search your vessels to make sure they are abandoned. Any wounded or trapped personnel will be cared for by them. Do not make any attempts to maneuver, to riftjump out of the system, or to activate your weapons systems. Are you clear on these instructions, Admiral Yeseti?”
For a long moment, the traitor was silent. Jacob could imagine her struggling to fight her own pride, her sense of self-preservation warring against her stubbornness and hatred. When Yeseti spoke, it was obvious that though her cowardice had won, it was not an easy decision for her still. “I understand, High Admiral. Our vessels will begin to be evacuated.”
“Thank you, Admiral Yeseti. Jacob Hull, out.” Jacob stabbed the button on his console with a finger, glad to be done with the distasteful conversation. He watched the tactical display for a few moments more until the first shuttles began to launch from the Oduran ships, and then he relaxed again. As the evacuations of the surrendered ships continued, he settled back in his command chair, relief hitting him again. This time it was like a physical blow, and he wondered at it. Peace, for the first time in generations. What would the universe be like when it was at peace?
Jacob became suddenly aware the crew of the command center was staring at him again, and he looked around with a smile. “We’re done.” He leaned forward, tapping a control to send the signal to the entire rest of the fleet. “This is High Admiral Jacob Hull, to the ships of the Celostian Navy. We’ve won. The enemy vessels are standing down, and as of now, there is an armistice in effect with the Oduran League and its allies. I thank you for your service and your dedication. High Admiral Jacob Hull out.”
The cheers were already breaking out around him as he sat back again, and he smiled as his gaze went to the star that marked Tiredel on the strategic display. He thought of Al-shira waiting for him there, and his smile grew wider. It looked like she hadn’t managed to get rid of him after all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It took another week and a half for the Eagle to return to Tiredel, and in that time the universe had changed.
The official confirmation of the armistice had taken that long to reach New Manassas from the Oduran League. President Sessors had been as anxious to receive her son home safe and sound as she had been to rescue the many crewmembers who had been taken prisoner. High Seat Smithson had agreed to release those prisoners as a small concession to the League, though there had been many who wanted to keep ex-Admiral Yeseti and try her for crimes against the Union. Though Jacob had agreed on a personal level that Yeseti should face justice, he had seen the sense in releasing both her and Carmichael to return to their new homes in disgrace.
San Marcos had been recognized as a protectorate of the Odurans, though most of her population was now migrating to the League proper. The San Marcos separatists were too fearful of Union retaliation to stay put, and the massive defeat their forces had suffered had broken their resolve to stand in defiance of their neighbors. Carmichael remained in power, but he seemed to be a broken man now his ambitions had failed, and there were already rumors others were planning on stepping into his place.
Of course, if those bitter refugees had hoped to find peace and stability by fleeing to the League, they were going to be rather disappointed. The severity of the losses at Manassas Fords, combined with the previous losses at Tiredel, Kryshaen, and other conflicts, had been a complete disaster for the League as a whole and the Oduran military especially. There barely remained any dreadnaughts in their military, and a large number of President Sessors’ cruiser fleet had been sacrificed in repeatedly catastrophic campaigns. Rebellions were already starting on several League worlds, along with rumors of bankruptcy and economic collapse as the government tried to rebuild itself. No matter what Sessors had planned for her new empire, it appeared she would have a difficult time doing much more than holding her nation together in the coming years. It would be a very long time indeed before the nations of the Grand Alliance would threaten the borders of the Celostian Union again.
The celebrations across the width and breadth of the Celostian Union were a sharp contrast. Politicians were already lining up to take credit. There was talk of monuments or official holidays, neither of which meant much to Jacob. He did, however, look forward to the let
ter from his sister Catherine. There was peace now, for her and Michael and their new family. From Reefhome to Celostia to Tiredel, the people of the Union were finally safe.
As much as that meant to Jacob—and to the rest of the people of the Union, for matter—he felt an exultant joy rise in him for an entirely different reason when his flagship appeared over Tiredel. It was one thing to see one’s enemies in rout, to have secured peace and safety for those you held dear, and to have been vindicated in his decisions throughout his command. For all that satisfaction, there was something quite different to be coming home.
Al-shira was waiting for him. Her shuttle had been in orbit, and she docked with the Eagle almost immediately. He stood waiting for her in the shuttle bay, watching the shuttle arrive and the shuttle bay pressurize. Anticipation built as that light slowly turned green, and it spiked as the hatch to the shuttle swung open.
She stepped out of the small ship and onto the deck, and for a moment all Jacob could do was look at her. Her gaze swept the deck until she saw him standing at the entrance, and her eyes flashed. Al-shria strode across the deck until she came to him, and then snapped to attention, her hand raised in a precise salute. “Captain Naomi Al-shira, reporting, Sir.”
Jacob returned the salute, almost in a daze. “Naomi, I—”
Al-shira held up a hand, and Jacob showed some small amount of wisdom when he stopped. Then he gestured for her to follow him, and they walked in silence to his office.
When he’d slid the door closed, Jacob turned back to Al-shira. He forced a smile. “So.”
She raised an eyebrow in return. “So.” Al-shira gestured to the star map rotating over his projection unit. “Congratulations on your victory, High Admiral.”
Jacob nodded. “Thank you.” He met her gaze. “It wouldn’t have been possible without you, Naomi. I owe you for that.”
“For that and more, Admiral Ironsides.” The corner of Al-shira’s mouth quirked in a wry grin. “Have you heard any news on your way here?”
Something in Al-shira’s voice hinted at a brand of mischief he knew well enough to be wary of. He shook his head, keeping his eyes on Al-shira. “No. Nothing since we left New Manassas.”
“Then I should probably catch you up on a few things.” Al-shira took her reader out of her pocket and started to tab through the documents on it. “So. First off, I’m sure you already noticed all the ship traffic around here.” When Jacob nodded again, she continued. “The Oathbound have made the decision—after Nathan Maxwell finally talked them around to it—to move further into the interior of the Union. I think the world of Montressor has offered them sanctuary.”
Jacob blinked. “Montressor? I guess that would be a good spot for them.” He thought over the idea quickly. “Deep enough the Odurans wouldn’t be able to threaten them, but close enough to the border they could help with resupply operations if they had to. I’m surprised the rest of the Union is agreeing to it.”
“As I said, Sir, you should probably watch more of the news.” Al-shira’s wry grin returned. “The actions of the Oathbound have more than won over most people. Montressor isn’t just agreeing to host them; they were bidding for the right to have them settle there. Apparently having a bunch of hardworking, charitable pacifists for neighbors sounded like a decent deal after the experience we’ve had with San Marcos.”
“Understandable, I guess—though I suppose we won’t have to worry about San Marcos much longer.” Jacob felt a burst of satisfaction at being able to say it out loud. He tried to keep his thoughts focused on the conversation at hand. “Are the settlements on Tiredel going to be abandoned, then?”
“No. The Oathbound plan on leaving them for the refugees they were sheltering.” Al-shira made an expressive gesture. “I think those refugees have already started looking to Reefhome for advice on how to form a self-defense militia. I doubt Tiredel will be an undefended system for much longer.”
Jacob didn’t quite manage to restrain a frown. “Are we sure that’s such a good idea? The last time we had a border system establishing a strong defensive force, it didn’t turn out so well.” When Al-Shira's expression hardened, Jacob frowned. “In fact, if I remember right, it was some of these same people doing the building, Captain Al-shira.”
“As far as I’m concerned, they aren’t the same people at all, High Admiral.” Al-shira raised an eyebrow. “And I would think you would be happy to welcome back a few people who have already seen the error of endorsing the separatist cause. They’re hardly going to jump right back into the arms of another Carmichael or Yeseti. I can tell you they aren’t enthusiastic about the League either, after Sessors tried to help Carmichael’s goons. You’ll have no better friends than these people, trust me.”
“You, I can trust.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest. “It’s them I’m worried about.” She gave him a look Jacob knew well, and he sighed. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on them.”
“Leave it to me.” Al-shira smiled. “While I seem to have a bit more optimism about them than you do, I have taken the liberty of placing a few agents on Tiredel. If anybody tries to do anything we don’t like, you’ll be the first to hear about it.”
Oddly comforted by that statement, Jacob turned back to the display. “So the Oathbound are heading further into the Union, and Tiredel is going to have a lot more protection in the future. What else has been going on since I’ve left?”
“The former High Seat, Roderick von Clarence, left the other day. He said he was headed to Erad, where his son was stationed.” Al-shira sighed when Jacob raised both eyebrows. “You really didn’t know about that?”
“About what?” Jacob gestured to the star map. “Since when is von Clarence’s son stationed at Erad? For that matter, since when is his son even a serving officer? I thought he was on some sort of educational retreat.”
“An educational retreat that has lasted for the past five years?” Al-shira chuckled. “It turns out Marine Captain Harold ‘Montgomery’ is actually Captain Harold von Clarence. The elder von Clarence apparently has some instructions for him, though what sort of instructions they are I can’t say.”
Jacob stared at her. “Another one with a fake name. Did he somehow take Nivrosky’s advice?”
“Actually, based on the timeline I’d say the former High Admiral took von Clarence’s advice.” Al-shira shrugged. “The officer has a sterling reputation and a fine record, so I think he shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”
Though he trusted her judgment, Jacob felt a twinge of resentment. There was a spark of suspicion still lingering toward Roderick von Clarence, but had to set it aside. After all, the man had come through for him, and he’d served the Union as well as Jacob had ever done. At the very least Roderick was headed for somewhere safe behind the Union’s border, rather than charging off into danger again. Perhaps, if Jacob ever ran across him again, perhaps he could offer his thanks instead of another argument. “All right. What’s next?”
Al-shira walked over to stand beside him. “There’s been a bit of a shift in the House and the Council since last you saw it. They’ve suddenly converted to absolute supporters of your position—in fact, they secretly always have supported you. Representatives and Lower Seats alike have been lining up behind every proposal they were blocking before. I’ve never seen High Seat Smithson quite so happy.”
Jacob grinned. “So the new designs?”
“They’ve all been authorized to go forward.” Al-shira handed him the reader. “Practically every shipyard in the Union is being asked to take on the work. Everything from Reefhome to New Manassas is going to be occupied.”
Jacob’s eyes widened as he studied the information. “Naomi, this has to be two or three times the construction I asked for! Where did they come up with the funding? Better question, how are we going to find the crews for all of them?”
“Crews aren’t going to be a problem, Jacob.” She tapped another button, and the information shifted to a report from
the Naval Academy near Graveston Station. “Recruits have been pouring in since Manassas Fords. The main challenge we’re having is where to put them all. The training facilities are overrun with all the new volunteers, but Admiral Mirov is already finding ways to stretch our resources. I’m sure if we present the House with the problem, they will be more than happy to give us more support anyway.”
The universe had turned upside down while Jacob wasn't looking. “But…but, they always said there wasn’t enough funding to…” He trailed off and she laughed.
“They may have been holding out on us, Jacob. They weren’t exactly a fan of Ironsides, now were they?” She shook her head ruefully. “Now, though, the Navy has won an unqualified victory, and they are starting to see all sorts of ways the Union might benefit from having a stronger defense force. No one really believes the Telosians will abide by the treaty, and even if they do there are plenty of independent pirates who would love to raid our frontier. Both the people of the Union and their representatives in the House and Council would like to have a stronger bulwark against those threats in the future, and they’ve decided you know enough about what you are doing to provide that protection.”
Jacob looked down at the information in his hands again and struggled to find an appropriate response. “This is incredible, Al-shira. They’re already looking into new dreadnaught designs, and the new Republic-class cruisers could change everything. Imagine what we could do with an actual, built from the ground up ‘ironside’ design. We could start retiring the older vessels, selling them off to militia. We’d actually have a strategic reserve on hand instead of having to depend on converted freighters…”
Eagle (Jacob Hull) Page 33
