Jacob nodded. “I’m sure he will.” Kenning’s eyebrows drew closer together for a moment, but his friendly demeanor was quick to return.
“Of course, Captain Hull. We can always rely on the High Admiral to keep things interesting.” His eyes glinted, and he leaned closer. “Captain Hull, I hope you do not find me intrusive, but may I ask a question?”
Jacob grunted softly. Truthfully he was already wishing the awkward conversation would end, but he felt obligated to continue until a convenient excuse presented itself. “Go ahead, Commander.”
Kenning glanced to either side as if he wanted to be sure nobody was near enough to eavesdrop. “I had heard you and Commander Naomi Al-shira had an…altercation…this morning. Was there any particular reason for your disagreement?”
Jacob gave Kenning a sharp look. If there was anything he wanted to talk about less than his discussion with Leon Nivrosky, it was what had happened with Al-shira. “I’m…afraid I don’t know what you are talking about, Commander.”
The commander sat back and chuckled again. His amusement was starting to grate on Jacob’s nerves. Kenning’s tone wasn’t much more palatable. “Of course, of course, Captain. I had heard you and Naomi Al-shira had grown close through your shared experiences. Entanglements can be such complicated things, can’t they?”
Jacob felt his face heat. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Kenning. Whatever rumors you’ve been hearing, the truth is Commander Al-shira and I had a discussion about several professional subjects, none of which are anything close to what you happen to be implying.”
A wicked smile worked its way across Kenning’s lips. Jacob felt the sudden urge to punch the other man, but he restrained it. “A fairly intense discussion over professional subjects. May I ask what merited such…passion…about your work?”
Jacob’s hands clenched into fists. “No, you may not.” Kenning leaned back in, mouth open to continue, but Jacob shook his head sharply. “If you would excuse me, Commander Kenning.” He turned in his seat, catching a flash of annoyance on Kenning’s face. A moment later, the chair scraped back and the other man left, and nobody took his place. Jacob, not particularly worried about Kenning’s feelings, chose to glare at the table in front of him and fume.
Only when everyone began to rise and salute did he snap out of his trance. Jacob rose as well, just in time to bring his hand up and properly greet the High Admiral as he entered. Alan Nivrosky paused on the threshold of the doorway and returned their salutes. His grey eyes swept over the assembled officers, studying them each with cool calculation. Then he strode across the room to the head of the table. He gestured for them to sit while he remained upright. “Please. I’ve spent enough time in a chair already.” A couple of officers chuckled at the feeble joke, but most took their seats without comment. Jacob watched as the High Admiral activated a control and lowered the lights in the room.
“I thank each of you for your cooperation. I realize many of you have important duties and heavy responsibilities in your areas, and to set those aside, even for a short time, is more than I would normally ask.”
Nivrosky shook his head. “Unfortunately, as you will see shortly, we are hardly in the midst of a normal situation. For this reason I have decided to plan and carry out an operation which, with your support, can preserve the defenses against Oduran aggression for the entire Celostian Union.”
A projection appeared from the center of the table, a panoramic view of the space along the border. From the Abundance system at the far edges of Union space, to Celostia itself in the center of the Union, and on to the border with the Oduran League, the stars claimed by the Celostian Union glowed a bright blue. Beyond that border was a gap, where the stars were simple grey specks denoting neutral or unaligned systems.
On the other side of the empty space was a much larger mass of stars of another color. Red points of light marked the systems controlled by Oduran member states as far as the intelligence assets of the Navy had been able to determine their extent. The area was enormous, easily five times larger than the Union. Partway through the uninhabited wilderness of stars between the worlds, the newly Oduran allied system of Telos glowing a bright yellow on the fringes of the projection, with their most recent acquisitions shining orange nearby. Their sudden spurt of expansion did not bode well for the Union either.
It was discouraging to see so many enemies facing the small patch of blue, but the image only reinforced what Jacob already knew about the desperate situation in which the Union found itself. The slightest falter and the League would sweep the Union from the stars with barely a thought. The Celostian military had borne the brunt of the conflict, in battle after battle, campaign after campaign. Rigannin had not been the first struggle against the Odurans. In the time of the Regal High Seats, there had been other battles, victories that had taken all the strength and valor of the Royal Fleet—the embryo of the Celostian Navy—to achieve, and had required a price of blood and tears Jacob hoped he would never have to see paid again.
Nivrosky spoke, and his voice reflected a lifetime of standing against that tide and paying that price. “Gentleman and ladies, you know the desperation of our situation. The Union fields nearly a third of the fleet the Odurans can support, and that was before the Telosians threw their strength behind the League. Unfortunately, we suffer from another disadvantage.”
“The Odurans have little to fear from an offensive strike, and so they are free to concentrate their forces and strike wherever they choose. We are forced to spread our ships across the length of the border in the hope that we can intercept an attack before it reaches past our defenses. In fact, our ships have had to pull back to the second or even third line of systems because otherwise we cannot muster enough forces. The frontier and border are often open to Telosian and Oduran raids, save for those few patrols we send out on a regular basis.”
“We have been able, however, to deal several setbacks to the Odurans. The Navy turned them back at Sirena and Wallard; more recently we caught them and beat them at Liandre. Each time, however, they have given us time to collect our forces and prepare for them.” Nivrosky paused and touched another control. “More recently, the Odurans seem to have set their sights on a broader view of the conflict.”
A wave of purple marks spread like a stain along the border. The systems they highlighted sometimes carried multiple marks, and it was simple to figure out why when Nivrosky continued. “Each of these marks represents an Oduran raid in the past eight months. While none have been attacks in large forces, each strike has claimed Celostian lives. Nearly forty-seven supercarrier-class merchant ships have been intercepted and destroyed. Their crews have been killed or captured. Nearly twice that many personal craft, independent merchantmen, and passenger liners have been taken. Those times when the Navy has been there to stop them, our patrols have been hit hard enough to put several of our ships in the docks, and our crews have taken heavy casualties.”
Nivrosky fell silent for a moment. Nobody made a sound until he continued. “What caused this shift in policy is unknown. Only a few of our intelligence assets have managed to penetrate Oduran space, and very few have managed to make contact since the last major campaign. As a result, we lack the information we need to anticipate further Oduran operations. Fortunately, we had the chance to obtain a few intelligence reports that may shed further light on the situation.” He turned and gestured to another officer. “Commander Kenning, could you summarize your findings for us?”
Jacob blinked, surprised. Kenning stood, his friendly demeanor barely hidden behind a veneer of professionalism. He began his report in a somewhat indulgent tone which Jacob hardly thought appropriate for a military officer, but the others didn’t seem to notice.
“During my work at the Intelligence Center on Tiredel, the reports I have received about the situation on the other side of the border have been less than glowing. With your permission, High Admiral?”
Nivrosky nodded, and Kenning touched a
control.
The projection of the known systems was replaced by the images of three people. One was a nondescript man in an Oduran military uniform standing at attention. The grey and purple tunic he wore was marked by a row of awards for valor in battle, as well as a rank bar marked with three gold slashes. A second man, in long flowing robes, was in the middle of a rousing speech, his arms outstretched and his open mouth wide. His blue eyes were filled with a self-righteous fury Jacob had only seen in the worst of fanatics, and he did not doubt that whatever the speech was he was giving, he had very little peaceful intent.
It was the last image that captured Jacob’s attention however. The man who stood there had a hard, unyielding expression, with features that could have been sculpted in granite. He wore formal attire, a severe dark suit with a matching black shirt beneath. His collar was open, and instead of a tie a large, ostentatious medallion glimmered on his chest. Inscribed on the medallion was the symbol of the Oduran League, a world with two hands encompassing it.
Whil Kenning spoke, the third figure grew more distinct and the others faded. “This is President Myron Banks, the central authority of the Oduran League. He has been in power for nearly twenty years since the death of his father and by all accounts rules as a virtual dictator within the League. While technically the League is an alliance of the various governments it represents, in actuality Banks is free to appoint any members of his family or friends he desires to lead the various League governments. As far as we know, he has not hesitated to place them in places of influence and authority or to use the Oduran military to quell any uprisings or protests against the League. For that reason he has been able to maintain power and prevent the dissolution of the League.”
The information was hardly new, but Jacob tried to focus. As annoying as Kenning could be on a personal level, Nivrosky had asked him here for a reason. The intelligence commander continued as Banks’ image grew less prominent and the other two returned to focus. “From what we have been able to learn, the member states of the Oduran League are not under stable control of the central authority. Several states have risen up in rebellion against the League, with several local leaders rising up in rebellion.”
An admiral further up the table spoke. “Could the League be dissolving? Or could these rebels become allies against the rest of the Odurans?”
Kenning shook his head. “Neither seems to be the case. The rebels belong to a variety of different factions, but there seems to be relatively few of them we could even generously consider being possible allies. Though they may not appreciate Banks’ heavy handed control of the League, they still seem to continue the hatred of the Union that has motivated the League thus far.” The commander touched another control, and the robed figure snapped into sharp relief. Banks faded into the background.
“A good example would be Reverend Thomas Gates. He is an influential figure in both Oduran politics and culture, though evidence suggests he, as well as many of his sect, originated in the Celostian Union.”
A grumble of discontent swept through the officers. Many had left the Union behind for one reason or another, striking out on their own like the Telosians or defecting to the League for a variety of reasons. Some had been lured by the promise of the League’s wealth and power, others driven by ideologies or creeds, still others by simple, pure hatred. None had the true respect of any loyal Celostian officer and never would.
For his part, Kenning did not notice the stir his statement had provoked. He continued. “Gates has an intense dislike for all things Celostian. In fact, he was a member of the parties within the Oduran League who helped motivate the government to launch the latest series of attacks against the Union. His speeches are one long diatribe of hate and contempt for our way of life, and as a result he is considered a viable threat to our interests. He has also recently begun speaking out against Banks and has called for him and his allies to be replaced as leaders of the League.”
Kenning turned to face the rest of the officers, his voice growing firmer. “He is not alone. There are many others who are speaking out against Banks, but they are just as dangerous to us as we are too them. If anything, Banks is serving as a brake for many of their destructive appetites, since he apparently is currently unenthusiastic about launching another campaign against us. Our forces, thanks to the leadership of Admiral Nivrosky, dealt them enough of a blow that Banks hesitates to face us for some reason, and now for that same reason he might be pulled from his throne.”
He manipulated the controls again, and Gates faded slightly while the last image grew distinct. “We assume this man is intended to replace Banks as the de facto leader of the Oduran League. General Franklin Al-Mustafa, a leader in the military who has served in repeated campaigns against the Union. He participated in the razing of Rigannin as well as the raid against Erad afterward, though apparently his ship left the Oduran fleet before it met defeat at our hands. As a result, he stands with a strong record of strikes against us, without the stain of the disaster at Liandre.” Kenning leaned back, crossing his arms. His lips twisted in a half smile as if the image of Al-Mustafa amused him. “Al-Mustafa has currently been assigned along the borders of our territory and is likely responsible for encouraging the small scale attacks against our frontier. He cannot launch a larger-scale strike without the approval of the Oduran leadership, which under Banks is unlikely to happen, but if Banks falls…” He trailed off suggestively.
“Then we could be looking at Rigannin all over again.” The words came from Captain Espinoza, who was slumped in her seat. She looked weary, and Jacob could sympathize with her as Kenning continued.
“Or worse. The Odurans are likely aware of how thin our defenses are stretched right now, and that knowledge would spur them to send an even larger strike force than they normally would. They could even commit all of their forces in an attempt to break us at last and take control of the Union.” Kenning shook his head, a sad expression on his face. “Given the high casualties among our more eager border patrols and the lack of support from the political establishment back home, we could easily have given them the chance to shatter our home.”
Jacob recognized the barb directed at him. Obviously he had made an impression with Commander Kenning, and not a good one from the sound of things. The swipe at the Independents he should have expected as well, given Kenning’s enthusiasm for the Federalists, but he was more surprised to hear a murmur of agreement from many of the rest of the officers. Apparently even a small amount of support from a politician went a long way toward gaining loyalty, and he wondered just how much of a minority an Independent would be among the members of the Navy.
The High Admiral stood and nodded to Kenning, indicating his part of the briefing was done. “Thank you, Commander Kenning, for that information. It will help put in perspective the need for the operation which we will embark on together.”
Kenning stiffened to attention and gave a slight bow of the head before he took his seat. Nivrosky, turned his attention back to the rest of the officers, sweeping his gaze across them.
“It is clear if we do nothing but wait, the situation will continue to worsen. Attacks along the length of the frontier will continue to erode our patrols, our standing squadrons and task forces will continue to weaken. All the while, the confidence and support of both the government and the civilians we are charged with protecting will continue to wane. When Banks falls, or when he decides to take decisive action against us again to answer the critics of his regime, the Odurans will be able to smash us to pieces and scour the remnants of our culture from the stars.”
Nivrosky looked around the table again, making a point of meeting each officer’s eyes. “We cannot allow this. We must take action, step beyond our current positions, and stop the enemy in their tracks. Any other course we set would lead to disaster and defeat. Any other choice would mean death for our fellow officers and loved ones, and slavery for whoever survives our folly.” The High Admiral’s gaze fell on Jacob, and he felt
a chill as the man paused for a moment before continuing on.
“I have petitioned the High Seat and received permission to conduct an offensive exercise against the Oduran League positions on the Frontier.” A combination of keystrokes brought up a new projection, sweeping away the images of the Odurans to show the stretch of space near the border. The view of the stars magnified, the systems on the edges of the map vanishing as the ones at the center grew larger. Soon only a small slice of the overall border remained, a particular portion where the barrier of grey, neutral systems between Celostian and Oduran territory grew thin. Jacob stiffened when he recognized the place, and he thought he caught a hint of a smile on Nivrosky’s lips as the admiral spoke.
“Our operation will be launched here. The Odurans have established a forward base in the area, in the formerly unsettled system of GRC 13576, informally known as Wayward. Traffic indicates a small amount of trade moves through this space as well, meaning that the Odurans are setting up trade arrangements with the local merchants, to more easily gain the supplies they would need to expand their influence there permanently.”
“Frontier traitors.” The mutter came from a sour faced commander at Kenning’s right hand.
Kenning caught Jacob’s eye and inclined his head slightly, very nearly indicating agreement. Jacob felt his fingers clench again. These days was getting much harder to avoid hitting someone.
The High Admiral silenced any further commentary with a severe look before he continued. “More importantly, the base has grown large enough to support what may be the first strike against our border colonies. General Al-Mustafa will be leading a large flotilla through GRC 13576 within the next three weeks, though his current target remains unknown.” Nivrosky smiled. “This will be our chance to capture or kill Al-Mustafa before any more support coalesces around him. If we decapitate the movement within the Oduran League, we may allow cooler heads to prevail, and our home can be preserved.”
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