The Orphan Alliance (The Black Ships Book 3)

by A. G. Claymore

  “Flota, the mass drivers are still operational,” Rus, the new second, reported.

  Hells and purgatories! Reis turned to look at the blinking icons in the central holo. How is this possible? Sure enough, the ships were in a new location. They would have had to move at top speed in the last ten minutes, far more drastically than any other ship. He had stopped his vessels ten minutes out from the battle and retrieved the latest tactical updates from forces already in contact.

  His blood had turned to smoke in his veins when he saw the planet-killing ships approaching his home. Beyond the obvious threat represented by those ships, they also forced the defenders to attack piecemeal, hoping for lucky strikes against the mass drivers before they could wipe out Dactar. He had aimed to destroy those ships as his opening move, giving the defenders breathing room to organize themselves.

  What had seemed to be a simple enough plan had failed utterly.

  It was almost as if the enemy knew that Reis’ force was on its way.

  “From the pre-jump data, I would estimate we’ve reduced the enemy’s combat power by fifteen percent with our drop-wash,” the tactical officer declared.

  Not a bad tactical gain, but the officers and men of the Krypteia were trained to focus on strategic and operational targets. A good Krypteian flota should be a force multiplier, rather than a simple toe-to-toe face-masher. His force was a quarter the size of the enemy. He could hurt them but not stop them. He could, however, fight his way through to a target that would be worth the sacrifice of his men and ships.

  “We’re committed,” Reis decided. “Signal all ships, we’ll cut our way through to the drivers.” Any other course of action would fail to relieve the defenders. As long as they saw a cohesive force attacking toward the asteroid accelerators, there was the chance that a commander with presence of mind would bring some order to the remaining defensive forces.

  A howl ran through the ship as the main and secondary batteries opened up. The first salvo, with every rail gun firing in unison, always managed to overpower the thrust compensators and Reis swayed with a practiced ease, absorbing the slight stall in their acceleration. Subsequent gunnery would continue at best possible rate, making a simultaneous discharge very unlikely.

  They easily cut through the thin flank that had been guarding the mass drivers until recently. Despite his disdain for the regular combat forces, he was not above the thrill of a straight-up fight, especially one that was going his way.

  Rus was proving to be a capable second. Without prompting, he was issuing orders to turn the fleet toward the path of least resistance between them and their target. He had also formed the fleet into the standard point-forward-cone formation, closed up so tightly that their shields could overlap. Power was diverted from the emitters on the inner side and channeled to the outer planes, greatly increasing their protection.

  Give me an officer who makes a poor decision over one who makes none at all and I’ll thank you for your help, Reis thought. It was his own personal mantra. No matter how bad the situation is – decide and act. He’d had his moments of self-doubt in the fight at Tauhento, but decisions had been made and actions taken. Because of those decisions, his force was here, ready to make a difference.

  They cut their way deep into the enemy formation, smashing the ships that stood in their way, savaging those that came in on their flanks. They were losing ships – Reis was aware of the steady stream of casualty reports – but he also knew, with a fierce certainty, that he would achieve his goal before he died.

  The planet killers were almost in his grasp.

  “Krypteian commander, this is Admiral John Towers. Do you read me?”

  Reis shuddered. It was like finding someone standing inside your bedchamber. How did that fornicating devil transmit directly to my implant? His tail waved in front of his chest. Did one of my brother officers fall into their hands and fail to activate his cranial charge?

  “Krypteian commander, Krypteian commander, this is Admiral John Towers of the Alliance. Are you receiving this signal?”

  Reis raised his chin. “This is Flota Reis Mas of the Krypteia. I’m receiving your signal, Admiral Towers.”

  Half the bridge crew was staring at him in shock.

  “Flota Mas, I am only giving you this one warning,” the Human said. “We have a clear firing solution for Xo’Khov. If you do not break off your attack immediately, I will be forced to open fire on your capital.”

  An intolerable situation. A Krypteian flota being asked to passively gaze at a threat that could wipe out his home? “How do I know you won’t fire anyway?”

  A chuckle. “The only thing you need to know, Flota Mas, is that I will fire if you don’t stop moving toward those mass drivers. The only course of action that will save your world is to stand down. I have already ordered our vessels to cease fire against your force.”

  “Sir!” Rus turned to Reis, a look of surprise on his face, his tail swaying uncertainly. “The enemy has stopped firing at us…”

  “Halt the fleet,” Reis ordered, “and cease fire as well.”

  An argument tried to surface on Rus’ features, but he put it down like an illegal protest march and turned to carry out his orders.

  “Why would you bring those uncivilized devices all the way to Dactar and not use them?” Reis demanded.

  “We captured those uncivilized devices on approach to Earth,” the Human replied mildly. “They still carry the asteroids harvested by their original Dactari crews – asteroids intended for the annihilation of all life on our world. Perhaps you would like to re-phrase your question?”

  “Impossible.” Reis’ tail gave an impatient flick. “How could we bombard your world without killing our own occupation troops? Your words ring false.” He suddenly remembered the wild assertions of his former commissar. How deep do the lies run?

  The Human chuckled. “Flota, your response is at the heart of our true objective. We didn’t come here to destroy Dactar. We came to force a change.”

  “So, what’s the next step?” Captain Hunter was studying the holo projection as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The sudden cessation of hostilities had left him at loose ends with an excess of adrenaline.

  “Well,” Towers began, “We have to…”

  “Enemy defense forces are breaking off,” tactical announced. “They’re turning toward the system’s sun.”

  “What the hell?” Hunter leaned in toward the moving icons.

  “New contact – approaching fast from the sun. It’s almost here already,” tactical called. “Holy shit! Sorry, sir, but that’s the biggest damn thing I’ve ever seen. It’s more than eighty times the size of the Midway. We could park the whole damn fleet inside that thing.”

  “Mass drivers might take it down,” Hunter urged.

  Towers nodded. The minute those drivers launch, the fight is back on, but we may not get a second chance. “Signal the…”

  “Enemy are firing on the new contact,” the tactical officer shouted.

  Towers grabbed Hunter by the shoulder. “Belay that. Let’s see how this plays out. If it came from this system, I want to know why the Dactari are firing on it.” He saw Hunter’s raised eyebrow and shrugged. “Enemy of my enemy…”

  “Something’s in our systems!” operations called out. “Sir, we’re dead in the water.”

  “Weapons are down!” tactical announced. “We still have sensors.”

  “Dammit!” Towers pounded a fist on the trace table. His hand accidentally zooming the holo display above it.

  Hunter reached out to re-set the display and stopped in alarm. “Sir?” He looked around the bridge, then ran to the corner of the trace table, peering down. He looked up again in confusion. “Admiral Towers?”

  Introductions

  The Dark Defiance, Dactari Space

  Tommy stood in one of the lounges surrounding a large conference chamber on the two hundred fortieth floor. The windows faced the long axis of the Dark Defiance, allowing fo
r a magnificent view out of the open stern of the vessel. The adjacent sides had views that cut through the circular cross-section of the massive ship and showed a distance hazed, curved carpet of buildings.

  Five kilometers from the stern, the five hull sections made a dramatic circular frame for the fragile curve of Dactar.

  “Who the hell are you?” The voice interrupting him was calm, but held an edge.

  Tommy turned to see a man in his late middle age wearing blue camouflage. A strip of cloth on his chest proclaimed his name. “Admiral John Towers?” He stepped toward him, catching the slight nod of confirmation. “My name is Tommy Kennedy.” He extended a hand, held it out for a few seconds, and then dropped it with a shrug. I might not be keen on shaking hands with my own kidnapper either, come to think of it.

  “Sir, perhaps I should start with an apology. My first visit to this ship was also an unsettling experience, to say the least.”

  “You were abducted from your ship?” Towers’ eyes bored into Tommy.

  “From a Kholan drop ship,” Tommy replied, “But we were looking for this ship when it happened so, I have to admit, my own experience was probably less startling than yours, though we had to contend with the thrill ride of dropping into a gas giant.”

  “Khola?” The center of Towers’ eyebrows raised a fraction. “Only two ships have been there from Earth and, unless you speak Mandarin, I’m betting you know the captain of the other ship.”

  Tommy realized the admiral was testing the truth of his story. “Harry Young,” he replied. “You know Harry?”

  A wave out the window. “He’s here, along with his…”

  “Here?” Tommy cut him off. “The Völund is here? My father and step-mother are here?” He took an involuntary step toward the admiral. “Liam Kennedy? Dr. Jan Kennedy?” He saw a blank look. “She was Jan Colbert, one of the first to discover the Dactari presence on Mars.”

  A sudden dawning of comprehension softened Towers’ features. “That’s right,” he said to himself. “I knew she was on the Völund, but I forgot she took a new name.”

  “Sir, is she still there? Is my father there?”

  “I know she is.” Towers frowned. “Sorry, son, but I don’t know your dad from a hole in the ground.” He made a helpless wave of his hands but suddenly stopped. “If your accent is anything to go by,” he said, grinning, “he might be there. Harry put in a request for British security troops when we took the Völund on strength. I asked him what was wrong with American troops and he confessed that he was just trying to keep booze legal on his ship.”

  “Booze?”

  “That’s right. You limeys don’t run a dry force like we do. He admitted that his security chief put him up to it. Said he’d have to lay in a stock of the good stuff if he had a multinational crew.”

  “That’s my dad!” Tommy didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Then he remembered why Towers had been brought here. There’ll be time for a family reunion later, assuming we can focus on the task at hand and resolve this. If we don’t… He forced his elation to the side for the moment.

  “Sir, we were looking at a ship under the Xo’Khov sea when this battle started. It was one of Keeva’s sister ships.” Tommy held out a hand toward one of the lounge chairs and they both sat. “Keeva’s the symbiote that runs this vessel.

  “We weren’t sure if we should intervene, but then we heard you and Flota Reis arranging a cease fire and decided to offer you a secure site for further talks.” He waved a hand toward the conference area, visible through the glass walls. “The Dark Defiance is able to keep both fleets on a neutral footing while you talk, so you don’t have to worry about a sneak attack while you’re here.”

  Towers raised a hand. “Hold on, son. Let’s start with this ship. Is it Dactari?”

  Tommy shook his head. “This ship is more than a half million years old. It was built by a species that mostly went extinct a long time ago.” They’d seeded humanoid life on just about every habitable planet they could find, including Dactar and Earth. Tommy didn’t think it would be very helpful to drop an astonishing fact like that on Towers at the moment. They needed to focus on making peace, not on the origins of species.

  “So it’s neutral?”

  “Yes.” Tommy waved at the glass wall between them and the conference area. “We have Gelna Tai, a former Dactari prisoner, with us. He’s in a lounge on the other side with the senior Dactari officer, who happens to be the one you were already talking to. Your drop-wash trick pretty much decapitated their leadership.”

  “Uh huh,” Towers leaned forward. “This ship can keep us all on a neutral footing,” he mused out loud. “What if I talk to this Flota Mas and decide to go on fighting?”

  “Then we’ll go back to what we were doing and move on.” A shrug. “We’ve seen entire worlds destroyed. We help if we can but, in the end, we move on if we’re not welcome.”

  Towers stood. “Let’s go meet my counterpart.”

  Tommy grinned. Not much sense in trying to ‘handle’ this guy. He’s used to making decisions and just doing it. He stood as well. “This way, Admiral.”

  They walked out into the vast space of the penthouse conference facility. The glazing soared above, coming to a point eighty feet above them. Despite the acute angle of the glass ceiling, a hazy view could be had of the hull sections on the far side of the ship, just over thirty kilometers away.

  Another Human stood by the aft end of the room, gazing out at Dactar. He wore an empty pistol holster on his right thigh.

  “Sir,” Tommy said, gesturing toward the man. “This is Kale Thompsen, a former JTF-2 operator.”

  Kale turned and gave Towers a friendly nod. “Welcome aboard, sir.”

  “Mr. Thompsen.” The admiral returned the nod. He turned so he could see both men. “What exactly is it that you do with this ship? I doubt you fly around looking for conflicts to mediate.”

  “All due respect, sir,” Kale responded, “but that’s gonna take more explaining than we have time for right now. Not to mention how much distraction it would add to an already tricky situation.”

  “He’s right, Admiral,” Tommy added. “We’ll explain what we’re doing, but perhaps we should leave that until you’ve had a chance to talk to our other guest.” He nodded toward the far side, where Gelna and Reis had just walked in from their lounge.

  Reis had hoped the oppressive atmosphere of the lounge would be left behind, but he still felt the inexplicable, overbearing presence as they stepped out into the conference area. He didn’t dare admit it to Gelna – he had no way of knowing if he could trust the medical officer’s motives. Gelna had been among the Humans for more than a decade. He might have developed sympathies for them, and Reis couldn’t trust him with a weakness like this. He had to acknowledge the odd feelings for what they were and force himself to serve his people.

  There is only this moment. He took a deep breath, looking around to see three Humans standing by the main window. He moved toward them with a purposeful stride.

  “Admiral John Towers,” he greeted his opponent, having no doubt as to which man was the enemy commander. His bearing radiated the aura of one who holds the power of life and death over thousands. He had an erect military bearing coupled with the signs of constant psychological wear and tear. He had power, certainly, but also the weight of ceaseless responsibility bearing down on his soul.

  “Flota Mas,” the Human replied. “Your arrival was an unexpected kink in my plans.”

  Was it? “You managed to carry on, all the same,” Reis countered. “We’ve achieved a stalemate, but you still have mass drivers parked over Xo’Khov.” The thought filled his veins with smoke. His sister was down there, with her two little ones.

  The Human waved a hand. “That should be enough to serve my purpose,” he said. “I needed to get your undivided attention.” He glanced out at the planet below – the delicate, fragile world.

  “We need to talk,” the admiral said simply.

&n
bsp; Detente

  The Dark Defiance, Dactari Space

  Liam appeared in the conference room, standing next to Eiboekna. As a neutral in the negotiation, she would stay out of the lounges to avoid the impression of favoring one party above the other.

  Acting as her security escort, Liam had tried to anticipate every possibility, but when he materialized on the alien ship, his jaw dropped open in shock. Of all the scenarios he could have imagined, this would never have made the list. “Tommy?”

  That easy grin. “Hullo Dad!”

  It was a long time before Liam could find his tongue. “Why are you here?”

  Tommy gestured around him. “We found the Dark Defiance, or maybe she found us, in that gas giant that Khola orbits, not long after you left for home.”

  “We?”

  “Kale and Gelna, along with Kobrak and his pals.”

  A grin, finally. “You smuggled him off the ship in Kale’s footlocker?”

  Tommy grinned. “So you found all the coffee in Kale’s quarters?”

  “Sitting on his bunk,” Liam shook his head. “Pretty lazy, if you ask me. I would have expected him to hide the evidence a little better than that. Lucky for Gelna that Harry decided to fake an escape pod accident and write him off as dead.”

  Reassured now that he was really talking to his son, Liam stepped forward and embraced Tommy. “Thank God you’re ok,” he said as they disengaged.

  He held onto his son by the shoulders. “I was worried about leaving you alone on Khola and, here you are, on a ship the size of a bloody city, brokering peace between the Alliance and the Republic.”

  Tommy reddened slightly at the sparkle in his father’s eyes.

  Towers waved Caul, Harry, Lothbrok and Flemming to their seats. It was time to settle their strategy for the meeting to come. In a lounge across the conference room, Flota Mas was already conferring with three very startled Triumvirs. “Why the hell do you think they want this broadcast to the entire planet?” Towers dropped into a chair with a sigh. “I was planning on demanding it as a precondition for talks, but what’s their motivation?”