The White Fleet (Blood on the Stars Book 7)

by Jay Allan

  “Well, Atara…what should we talk about today?” He paused. “You know who I was thinking about earlier? You remember that guy on Fritzie’s staff back when we first got to Dauntless? The engineering team all called him ‘Jazz’, remember? He was short, and he looked like he was about fourteen years old…”

  * * *

  Barron opened the door to his cabin, stepping inside and pausing for a moment. The AI snapped on the overhead lamps, but he immediately growled, “Lights off.” He wanted the dark…it matched his mood.

  Barron knew the arguments his officers had made back in Zed-11 were logical, and he realized, with his own honors from the war, and the almost universal respect for the Barron name, he was absolutely the right one to go back, to convince the Senate and the Admiralty of the new danger facing the Confederation…and to play a lead role in readying the navy to face whatever was coming. The safety of the Confederation was the highest priority. The only one.

  But logic didn’t mean a thing to him, not now, and in his mind, he was one thing and one thing only…the admiral who left his command, abandoned his fleet to deadly danger and fled with a small group of ships. The very thought of it disgusted him, and though he’d tried to hide it, the whole thing was tearing him apart.

  He walked across the room, to a small chest of drawers. He leaned down and opened the bottom one. He wasn’t much of a drinker, he never had been. It had been months since he’d had anything more potent than carbonated water. But, now, Barron began to appreciate the appeal of drinking. More specifically, of drunkenness.

  He pulled a bottle out from under a small pile of jackets. It had been expensive, he was sure of that, and probably vanishingly rare. It had been a gift, the kind of thing people had showered on him his entire life, a sort of homage to the near worship of the Barron clan. He’d always hated that, too…but now he was going to put this particular unwanted gift to good use. He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it along, perhaps to use to toast some great discovery he’d hoped the fleet would find. Now he was glad he had. The fleet had discovered only danger and death, but he’d found another use for the bottle. Tyler Barron was going to sit in the dark in his cabin, alone, and get absolutely shit-faced drunk.

  It had to be better than how he felt, and if it drove away the images of the Eatons, and of Atara lying in that metal pseudo-coffin, not to mention the tens of thousands of others he’d left behind—almost certainly to their deaths, despite what he’d tried to tell himself—so much the better. He knew he should stay sharp, sober, that he had duty to perform, that the Confederation needed him. But the images were still there, tormenting him, calling him turncoat, coward.

  He opened the bottle and took a deep drink, almost coughing up half of it as the harsh liquid hit his throat. He didn’t like it, neither the taste nor the feel, but none of that mattered, not now.

  And, whether he liked the taste or not, he knew it would give him what he truly wanted.

  What he needed.

  Epilogue

  Planet Calpharon

  Sigma Nordlin System

  “Highest, I abase myself in your presence.” The man was tall, fit, his enunciation flawless and clear. He carried himself in a lordly manner, almost dripping with self-confidence. Yet, he dropped to one knee and lowered his head before the woman seated in front of him, his almost natural haughtiness giving way to a humbleness that appeared strange, despite its seeming sincerity.

  “You may rise, Calthor.” The woman spoke softly, her voice strong despite its low volume. She sat on a large seat at the end of the massive room, wearing informal attire, a simple pair of light pants and a tunic, though in a fabric so fine it made normal silk seem almost like burlap. “Speak freely. Present your report.”

  She looked at the man, her demeanor relaxed, yet attentive. Her name was Akella, though she hadn’t gone by that designation in many years. She had ranked at the very top of the genetic testing for more than two decades, ever since she’d come of age and submitted to the Test. Her position was a lofty one, unique, and it carried with it, honors and titles…and the rule of the Hegemony. Her people, Inferiors and Masters alike, even her closest advisors, called her, simply, ‘Highest.’

  “Highest, the invaders appear to have fled from Ghasimar. The retribution fleet engaged part of their force, yet most of their ships were able to escape.”

  “Surely, our forces were able to track their routes?” She showed no emotion, though there was little question the contact with other survivors of the Cataclysm was a momentous development. Her calmness was born of confidence, and Akella, the Highest of the Hegemony, was utterly certain that her intellect and knowledge would serve to face any crisis. Certainly, any challenge from a new strain of Inferiors who had dared to invade Hegemony space.

  “Yes, Highest. They were allowed to disengage. Even now, the fleet pursues, seeking the route to their home systems.”

  “Very well, Calthor. We will find this cluster of survivors…and they will come to understand the order of things.” Her people had long assumed that the Hegemony was all that remained of the old empire. Ships had been sent out, more than a century before, both Rimward and Coreward, and found nothing but dead, useless worlds.

  They apparently didn’t go far enough Rimward…the Highest from that time clearly failed in his duty.

  The realization that there were others, and that while they were clearly inferior to the Masters, they possessed technology of a significant—and potentially dangerous—nature, was disturbing.

  “Highest…the invaders’ ships…they carry smaller vessels, crewed by no more than one or two of their people. They operate in swarms, and many of them carry weapons of significant power.” Another pause. “Our ships are not optimally equipped to face such attacks. I fear we suffered considerable losses in the recent battles.”

  “Yes, the loss reports are indeed surprising…and disturbing. I fear I will have to take personal charge of the struggle against this enemy. There can be no more errors, no further underperformance. We must develop defensive systems to account for the enemy’s weaponry. It is intolerable for these inferiors to exceed our capabilities in any way.

  “Yes, Highest. As you command.”

  “Yet, we cannot delay our response, Calthor waiting to refit our ships. We must find this new enemy’s domain swiftly…and when we track them to their home systems, we must attack at once and bend them to our will. Our destiny is clear. We are the Masters. All of the old empire, and everything beyond, is ours to command. We can allow no Inferiors, technologically-advanced or not, to interfere with our place in the scheme of things.”

  “Yes, Highest. The advance fleet will find the route to their homeworlds. I am confident.”

  She stared back at Calthor. Her mind had already begun to calculate the number of permutations, the varying routes back toward the Rim that formed the dataset her people would have to examine if they were unable to track the invaders to their homeworld. She did not have reliable information on the transit network past a certain point, but there were, at the least, several hundred thousand possible routes the enemy could take. An extensive probability analysis could eliminate many of them, she knew, and likely identify a more reasonable number of probable routes. But the search would still be difficult, and it would take time…unless the fleet was able to maintain its tracking, and report back.

  “I concur with your actions, Calthor. The fleet is to continue its pursuit.”

  “Thank you, Highest. Your approval is gratifying.”

  She sat quietly for a moment, considering a range of variables…the likely strength of the invader, how many systems they might occupy, how long it would take to find a reliable route to their home bases. Finally, she made a decision.

  “These invaders are inferior, of course, at least to us, the Masters…but it appears they have many advantages over our own Inferiors. It is reasonable to assume their genetic rankings, at least many of them, would place them in a tier between us and the upper ra
nges of the Arbeiter-Kriegeri stock. They could be useful additions to the Hegemony, beings truly fit to serve the Masters. Once they are suitably broken and pacified, of course.”

  “Indeed, Highest. I agree entirely.”

  The Highest was silent for a short while, perhaps half a minute. Then she turned and looked toward Calthor. “All forces are to mobilize. Immediately. The Grand Fleet will assemble and prepare for its mission.” There was a short silence. “They are to be ready to move as soon as the advance fleet reports the course to the enemy’s home systems.”

  She was again silent for a few seconds, and then she looked up and spoke, her tone imperious.

  “We will destroy this Rim nation and its institutions…and extend our rule to the very edge of what was once the empire.”

  Strata of the Hegemony

  The Hegemony is an interstellar polity located far closer to the center of what had once been the old empire than Rimward nations such as the Confederation. The Rim nations and the Hegemony were unaware of the other’s existence until the White Fleet arrived at Planet Zero and established contact.

  Relatively little is known of the Hegemony, save that their technology appears to be significantly more advanced than the Confederation’s in most areas, though still behind that of the old empire.

  The culture of the Hegemony is based almost exclusively on genetics, with an individual’s status being entirely dependent on an established method of evaluating genetic “quality.” Generations of selective breeding have produced a caste of ‘Masters,’ who occupy an elite position above all others. There are several descending tiers below the Master class, all of which are categorized as ‘Inferiors.’

  The Hegemony’s culture likely developed as a result of its location much closer to the center of hostilities during the Cataclysm, and the resulting fact that many surviving inhabitants of the inward systems suffered from horrific mutations and damage to genetic materials, placing a premium on any bloodlines lacking such effects.

  The Rimward nations find the Hegemony’s society to be almost alien in nature, while its rulers consider the inhabitants of the Confederation and other nations to be just another strain of Inferiors, fit only to obey their commands without question.

  Masters

  The Masters are the descendants of those few humans spared genetic damage from the nuclear, chemical, and biological warfare that destroyed the old empire during the series of events known as the Cataclysm. The Masters sit at the top of the Hegemony’s societal structure and, in a sense, are its only true full members or citizens.

  The Masters’ culture is based almost entirely on what they call ‘genetic purity and quality,’ and even their leadership and ranking structure is structured solely on genetic rankings. Every master is assigned a number based on his or her place in a population-wide chromosomal analysis. An individual’s designation is thus subject to change once per year, to adjust for masters dying and for new adults being added into the database. The top ten thousand individuals in each year’s ratings are referred to as ‘High Masters,’ and they rank above the others, and are paired for breeding matchups far more frequently than the larger number of lower-rated Masters.

  Masters reproduce by natural means, through strict genetic pairings, based on an extensive study of ideal matches. The central goal of Master society is to steadily improve the human race by breeding the most perfect specimens available, and relegating all others to a subservient status. The Masters consider any genetic manipulation or artificial processes like cloning, to be grievously sinful, and all such practices are banned in the Hegemony on pain of death to all involved. This belief structure traces from the experiences of the Cataclysm, and the terrible damage inflicted on the populations of imperial worlds by genetically-engineered pathogens and cloned and genetically-engineered soldiers.

  All humans not designated as Masters are referred to as Inferiors, and they serve the Masters in various capacities. All Masters have the power of life and death over Inferiors. It is not a crime for a Master to kill any Inferior who has injured or offended that Master in any way.

  Kriegeri

  The Kriegeri are the Hegemony’s soldiers. They are drawn from the pick of the populations of Inferiors on Hegemony worlds, the strongest and most physically capable specimens. Kriegeri are not genetically-modified, though in most cases, Master supervisors enforce specific breeding arrangements in selected population groups intended to increase the quality of future generations of Kriegeri stock.

  The Kriegeri are trained from infancy to serve as the Hegemony’s soldiers and spaceship crews, and are divided in two categories, red and gray, named for the colors of their uniforms. The ‘red’ Kriegeri serve aboard the Hegemony’s ships, under the command of a small number of Master officers. They are surgically modified to increase their resistance to radiation and zero gravity.

  The ‘gray’ Kriegeri are the Hegemony’s ground soldiers. They are selected from large and physically powerful specimens and are subject to extensive surgical enhancements to increase strength, endurance, and dexterity. They also receive significant artificial implants, including many components of their armor, which becomes a permanent partial exoskeleton of sorts. They are trained and conditioned from childhood to obey orders and to fight. The top several percent of Kriegeri surviving twenty years of service are retired to breeding colonies, to produce the next generation of Krieger-Edel, a pool of elite specimens serving as mid-level officers and filling a command role between the ruling Masters and the rank and file Kriegeri.

  Arbeiter

  Arbeiter are the workers and laborers of the Hegemony. They are drawn from populations on the Hegemony’s many worlds, and typically either exhibit some level of genetic damage inherited from the original survivors or simply lack genetic ratings sufficient for Master status. Arbeiter are from the same general group as the Kriegeri, though the soldier class includes the very best candidates, and the Arbeiter pool consists of the remnants.

  Arbeiter are assigned roles in the Hegemony based on rigid assessments of their genetic status and ability. These positions range from supervisory posts in production facilities and similar establishments to pure physical labor, often working in difficult and hazardous conditions.

  Defekts

  Defekts are individuals exhibiting severe genetic damage, often populations of entire worlds. They are typically found on planets that suffered the most extensive bombardments and bacteriological attacks during the Cataclysm.

  Defekts have no legal standing in the Hegemony, and they are considered completely expendable. On worlds inhabited by populations of Masters, Kriegeri, and Arbeiters, Defekts are typically assigned to the lowest level, most dangerous labor, and any excess populations are exterminated.

  The largest number of Defekts exist on planets on the fringes of Hegemony space, where they are often used for such purposes as mining radioactives and other, similarly dangerous, operations. Often, the Defekts themselves have no knowledge at all of the Hegemony and regard the Masters as gods or demigods descending from the heavens. On such planets, the Masters often demand ores and other raw materials as offerings, and severely punish any failures or shortfalls. Pliant and obedient populations are provided with rough clothing and low-quality manufactured foodstuffs, enabling them to devote nearly all labor to the gathering of whatever material the Masters demand. Resistant population groups are exterminated, as, frequently, are Defekt populations on worlds without useful resources to exploit.

  The Crimson Worlds Series

  (Available on Kindle Unlimited)

  Marines (Crimson Worlds I)

  The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)

  A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)

  The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)

  The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)

  To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)

  The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)

  Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)

  The Fall
(Crimson Worlds IX)

  Crimson Worlds Successors Trilogy

  MERCS (Successors I)

  The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)

  The Black Flag (Successors III)

  Crimson Worlds Refugees Series

  Into the Darkness (Refugees I)

  Shadows of the Gods (Refugees II)

  Revenge of the Ancients (Refugees III)

  Winds of Vengeance (Refugees IV)

  Storm of Vengeance (Refugees V) – May 2018

  Crimson Worlds Prequels

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  Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Red Team Alpha

  (A New Crimson Worlds Novel)

  Blood on the Stars Series

  (Available on Kindle Unlimited)

  Duel in the Dark (Blood on the Stars I)

  Call to Arms (Blood on the Stars II)

  Ruins of Empire (Blood on the Stars III)

  Echoes of Glory (Blood on the Stars IV)

  Cauldron of Fire (Blood on the Stars V)

  Dauntless (Blood on the Stars VI)

  The White Fleet (Blood on the Stars VII)

  Flames of Rebellion Series

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  Flames of Rebellion (Book I)

  Rebellion’s Fury (Book II) – Spring 2018

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  Shadow of Empire (Fars Stars I)

  Enemy in the Dark (Far Stars II)