New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1)

by Joshua Dalzelle

  “I think you’ll find that your hands will be full simply convincing us first, Mr. President,” James Nelson from Britannia said in a clipped accent that identified him as being from the capital world. “I find it hard to believe that it is in the best interests of the United Terran Federation to become militarily involved in a dispute between the Ushin and the Darshik.”

  “That’s fair enough, ah … Mr. Nelson,” Wellington seemed to flounder as the legislative members were no longer called senators. “Putting aside the three attacks on Terran ships, two in sovereign Terran space for a moment, let’s go over some facts that I think you might not be fully aware of.

  “When the Asianic Union and Warsaw Alliance broke off, they took a sizable chunk of the New European Commonwealth with them. For all intents and purposes call it the entire enclave, since the planets still loyal to the old Confederacy are astronomically located such that we would have to fly through ESA systems to reach them, which they are no longer allowing. Latest intelligence before the blackout indicated they were actually mining some of the more strategic jump points … that’s an unprecedented move in our history as a spacefaring people.”

  “We’re all well aware of this, Mr. President. If there—”

  “What isn’t widely known,” Wellington went on, steamrolling over the interruption without even raising his voice, “is that the Third, Fifth, and Eighth Fleets were largely left intact after the Phage War. That means that despite our technological superiority, the numbers favor them. And it gets better … Admiral?”

  “Practically speaking, all of our fissile material came from the New European Commonwealth.” Admiral Marcum stood, having already been warned by the President that he would be required to provide technical background during the meeting. “Specifically, two planets that are controlled by the ESA.”

  “Is this really a problem?” Nelson asked skeptically. “We still have over sixteen star systems, some with multiple habitable planets. Statistically some of those systems must have the material we need.”

  Marcum shook his head slowly as if exhausted at having to explain something simple to someone so dense. “The material isn’t the issue,” he said. “We can get Uranium-235 almost anywhere … but the processing facilities to produce it in useable quantities are on those two planets. We need the enriched product they produce for our fission-fusion warheads. Thankfully, starship reactors are much more simple and don’t require such an exotic fuel or we’d be in an even worse place, but at our current rate of consumption we’ll lose our ability to produce Shrike warheads within the next year. In case anybody was wondering, the Shrike has become Fleet’s primary ship-to-ship weapon.”

  “And the Bespitd munitions depot was just destroyed.” Former Senator Illoka from New America nodded his head in understanding. “Other than scaring us, why is this important?”

  “Because the Ushin, as part of our tentative treaty agreement, have offered us technology that will allow us to no longer need fissionable material from the ESA worlds, at least not for weapons production,” Wellington said. “We’ll get into those details later, but the more significant offer from them is up to twenty-six new, human-habitable planets within practical range of our territory.”

  This announcement set off a flurry of loud, shocked responses as each member of the new Parliament tried to wrap their head around the implications of so many new planets ready for colonization.

  “As you can see, gentleman, this is quite an offer,” Wellington said, finally moving to sit behind the wood desk that dominated the room. “But it’s not without some drawbacks, both philosophical and practical. First to the practical, if you wouldn’t mind, Admiral.”

  “Realistically, we would struggle to fend off a serious offensive on our own territory,” Marcum began. “That means that any military assets that are sent to help the Ushin leave us just that much more vulnerable. There has been a strong effort since the Phage War to implement planetary and system-wide defenses, but so far only the more wealthy systems have managed to get anything in place. We’re working to mitigate that, but there’s currently nothing in place so we’re completely dependent on a depleted Starfleet. So … from a purely practical standpoint we can deploy the Fleet to help the Ushin or hold them back and protect our own systems.”

  “This raises another problem,” Nelson said, his eyes never leaving Marcum’s. “I’ve seen the numbers … Fleet doesn’t have enough ships to protect all Fed planets.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Wellington cut in. “No matter what’s decided here, hard choices will need to be made about what systems are critical and which will need to fend for themselves. So now that we know what’s at stake, here’s where the logic gets a bit mushy. In the last ten years we’ve gone from knowing about one other species from humans in the galaxy to four new ones, each seeming to be much further up the technological ladder than we are.”

  “Is there a point to this, Mr. President?” Illoka asked. “With all due respect, sir, we all know we’re here to be sold on something. Let’s hurry along to the point and then we can get down to the nitty gritty of the matter.”

  “Very well,” Wellington said. “We need allies. From what we’ve been exposed to it’s unrealistic to think that we can remain isolated and keep to ourselves. We’re too spread out, our ships are too slow, and we’re extremely vulnerable after the Phage War. The Ushin are offering territory, planets, and technology in exchange for military intervention. With the new Articles of Federation we’ve all just signed I have the authority to deploy CENTCOM assets in emergency situations, but I don’t think this would count as one. For the Fleet to be involved in the Ushin/Darshik conflict I would need a resolution from the Parliament. Let’s also not forget that we’ve been attacked as well.”

  “What you’re essentially asking us is if we’re willing sacrifice people and ships defending one alien species from another, but not out of some misguided altruism,” Nelson said, standing up to indicate he wanted the floor. “While this is not something we’ve had to deal with in the last few centuries, it’s not without precedent. Most of Earth’s history in the post-industrial age was defined by the application of military force. The Americans in particular had a very aggressive interventionist doctrine towards the end of their run, and even the reformed North American Union liked to apply pressure with its Navy. This sort of action is always presented to the public as being something other than what it really is: using force to protect something someone has that we want, or to take it from someone else who won’t share. Am I right so far?”

  “Yes,” Wellington said, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he made no move to stop Nelson.

  “The Ushin are willing to pay dearly for our help,” Nelson continued. “Over two dozen habitable worlds and access to their superior technology … I don’t see how we can say no. You all heard the reality we’re faced with: Without help the Federation won’t last long, and the ESA will be able to pluck even more worlds from our control, one by one. This is not something I do lightly, Wellington … but I’ll take your proposal to the floor and push it through.”

  ****

  Pike shut the feed off and leaned back. He’d discreetly planted a listening device on Wellington when he’d brought the President back to New Sierra. It was something he regularly did, and without much guilt, since he worked for Wellington directly and the man was woefully inadequate when it came to briefing his personal intel operative after such a meeting. Pike had learned early on that it was much more efficient to just listen in and get the entire picture so he was ready when Wellington inevitably came to him with some outlandish request afterward.

  What he had just listened to, however, disturbed him greatly … but should it? The PMs and the President had basically just colluded to drag humanity into another war for what amounted to payment by the Ushin. Despite having a military organization that was hundreds of years old, the concept of war was largely lost on this generation of humans. The Phage War was a flailing, knee-je
rk reaction to being attacked, but what Wellington was proposing was an offensive based on false pretense in order to gain the resources the Ushin were willing to part with. Was he being naive in thinking this was something they should not be considering? He certainly didn’t think of himself as much of an idealist, not given the things he’d seen and done in his lifetime, so what was it about this in particular that made it so repugnant?

  Taking the scale factor away he had to concede that this was no different than some of the things he’d done as an agent in the CIS. Were any of his political assassinations really so different than sending a few squadrons of starships to hit the Darshik? When you boiled away the distracting details of each there wasn’t really any distinction between his killing of a single person to encourage a certain political outcome than there was in killing Darshiks for the Ushin.

  “What the hell,” he muttered and began bringing the Broadhead’s primary flight systems back online. Pike had what was kindly called a “flexible morality” and it was one of the main reasons he was found to be psychologically suited for work as an agent.

  He directed his stealthy ship into a steep climb that would take it out of the low orbit it had been loitering in and break connection with the device he’d put on Wellington. It was one of the better bits of tech he’d gotten from CIS before the fall of Haven; the tiny transmitter would actually dissolve away the next time the shirt was laundered and his boss would be none the wiser. As he felt the throb of the Broadhead’s reactionless drive he wondered what, if anything, he should do with the ill-gotten information. Normally when he pulled one of these counter-intelligence stunts with his boss it was as a sort of checks and balance and he never trafficked information that couldn’t have been found through legitimate means had someone just known to look.

  This was different, and he couldn’t easily explain away potential actions he might take that would be rightly considered treason were he found out. The documents he’d leaked to the media regarding Jackson Wolfe notwithstanding, he had no desire to be branded a traitor and he really had no moral high ground to plant his flag on save for a vague uneasiness about senior politicians manipulating the government for gain. But was there really anything wrong going on here? The Fleet flies out to help a species that is asking to be protected and is offered a haul of planets in return. Alliances have been struck for weaker reasoning and other than the “politics as usual” aspect of it Pike wasn’t so certain Wellington and Marcum were in the wrong.

  No … for now he’d just keep the recording to himself and do as he was ordered. Wellington hadn’t been able to get a straight answer out of his CENTCOM Chief of Staff regarding Project Prometheus, so while they’d been hooked into the Amsterdam’s com system via the Tsuyo provided backdoor Pike had also cast a wide net through any of Marcum’s files he could find. As soon as he’d dropped off the President at the New Sierra Platform his new orders were to start hunting for whatever this project was.

  “Gonna be another long, lonely trip,” he groused as the Broadhead zipped away from the planet and towards the Columbiana jump point.

  Chapter 13

  “Captain Wright is on the com, Admiral.” Marcum’s aide stuck her head in his office.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Emerson,” Marcum said. “I’ll take it in here.”

  “Senior Captain Wright reporting as ordered, Admiral.” Celesta’s face appeared on the monitor.

  “Are you alone in your office, Captain?” Marcum said, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t think I need to tell you how badly you’ve pissed me off this time, Wright … suffice it to say that at my earliest convenience you will be removed from the bridge of that ship,” Marcum started, still struggling to keep his tone measured and professional.

  “Unfortunately for me, that day isn’t today. I’ve reviewed Commander Barrett’s service record and I just don’t think he’s ready to assume command, nor can I afford to have the Icarus’ efficiency go down the shitter by swapping in a new command staff on the brink of a major offensive. I need Ninth Squadron and your ship at their best.” Marcum stopped and just stared at his captain. She was staring back at him impassively, not offering any explanations or excuses.

  “Needless to say, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about me forcing you onto the bridge of the New York. What it is about you Black Fleet officers that makes you think you know best is beyond me … but I’m about to do some long-overdue house cleaning once this—”

  “Admiral, if this is supposed to be some sort of pep talk before a major military operation I fail to understand how this in any way is helpful to either you or me,” Celesta said, managing to look bored by the whole thing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry … am I holding you up, Captain?” Some of the anger Marcum was feeling began to slip past his façade.

  “No, sir, you’re not,” Celesta said calmly. “But you’ve indicated that we have an operation upcoming and I’d prefer to focus on that. I’m not denying that I disobeyed orders and ordered my ship out of orbit as well as leaving the station while it was on lockdown. We could argue the finer points of that, but I get the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t be a productive conversation, at least not right now.”

  “Very well, Captain.” Marcum swallowed down his retort. How was she able to so easily get under his skin? He knew it was beginning to look like he had a personal axe to grind with regards to Wright and that put her at an advantage.

  “Barring any surprises during tomorrow’s full session of the new Parliament, it will be announced that we’ve agreed to terms and will be entering into a limited protection treaty with the Ushin. We’re expecting a full brief package from Ambassador Cole’s staff in the next few hours, and as soon as we’re authorized we’ll be sending the first intelligence assets to begin verifying everything we’re told.

  “Due to a variety of reasons, not the least of which being the attacks on Terran ships and systems, we will want to move very quickly to take back the initiative. The Ninth Squadron will be deploying with the advanced formations to establish beachheads in the Ushin systems we’ll be expected to clear of Darshik ships.”

  “Do we have any sort of intelligence on Darshik strength levels in these systems, sir?” Celesta asked. “We’re only marginally more familiar with them than we were with the Phage when it attacked, and I’d prefer not to have a repeat of how that turned out.”

  “Nor I, Captain.” Marcum leaned back in his seat. “We’re in a wait and see position until Cole’s team gets the briefing scrubbed and sent up to us. Communicating with the Ushin is still ponderous and, at times, inaccurate so it’s slow going.”

  “And yet we’re rushing in to—”

  “You and I don’t make policy, Captain,” Marcum cut her off. “And we’ll not be discussing it now. The reason for this meeting, besides wanting to look you in the eye before I decided whether or not to have you relieved of command, is to tell you I want you to begin organizing all Black Fleet assets in this system any way you see fit to facilitate a quick deployment. You’ll be the first ships out to the initial rally point and then your destroyers will be flying ahead of the convoy when we make the final push. My aide will be transmitting your official orders that will give you the authority you need. Any questions?”

  “Many, many questions, sir,” Celesta said. “But it will wait. We’ll begin redeploying all Seventh Fleet ships as soon as our orders come in.”

  “Then that will be all, Captain.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  ****

  Celesta killed the channel and stared at the screen for a long moment, noticing the details of CENTCOM’s new crest for the first time as it replaced the image of Admiral Marcum’s scowling face. She really didn’t think what she’d done had been so severe as to warrant the Chief of Staff’s reaction. In her mind, she’d taken bold, decisive action when everyone else seemed to flounder and had pulled their asses out of the fire by getting her ship t
o where it could do the most good. Instead, it looked like it had sunk her career. She also caught a whiff of an underlying anger directed towards her. Celesta had always thought Marcum was one of her more ardent supporters despite Wolfe’s warning not to trust him. How she went from being considered for the command of a battleship to being told her days in Starfleet were numbered was a mystery to her, but like her mentor had said over and over: Marcum’s rank of admiral became an honorific when he became CENTCOM Chief of Staff. Now he was a politician before he was an officer.

  “Commander Barrett and Ensign Accari, please report to my office,” Celesta said conversationally and waited for the computer to beep softly to let her know it understood and had paged the two officers. When the knock came at the hatch a moment later, she let the two in and motioned for them to take a seat.

  “Is there a problem, Captain?” Barrett asked, obviously concerned.

  “More than one, but let’s get to them in order,” she said as she began pulling up the sensor feeds and putting them on the four large monitors that were arrayed along one bulkhead. “We’ve been tasked with prepping the local Black Fleet assets for redeployment to an as yet undisclosed staging point. We should have orders coming up momentarily that will give me the authority to order them onto new courses.”

  “We’re leaving, ma’am?” Accari asked. “Right after this system was attacked?”

  “We’re preparing for a counterattack,” Celesta corrected. “I’ll explain all that in due time. I think the faster we get out of this system the better, however, so let’s take a look at our orders and get to work.”