by Jay Allan
“So we’re to strike pre-emptively, to secure as much of the Confederation as possible ourselves to keep it from them?” There was doubt in her tone.
“The Council doesn’t believe we can sit by and passively watch events unfold. They feel that the Confeds are too weak, morally if not in arms, and that they will inevitably fall to the Union when war begins. The Union is already vastly larger than we are…to sit by and allow them to swallow up the Confederation, and all its industry as well, would be disastrous.” He paused. “No, if the Confederation is to be conquered, as much of it as possible must fall to us, and quickly. Before the Union invades and wins without us. Then it will be too late.”
She shook her head. “Can we even mount such an invasion now? Half the fleet is still on garrison in the conquered systems. Getting them back to base for refit will take…”
“The Council believes it can be done in six months.” Vennius’s tone suggested he had a rather different opinion than the Council.
“So, am I to be given a command in the invasion force? A new vessel?”
“No, Kat…at least, no, you won’t be with the invasion force. At least not initially.”
She looked back at him, not entirely hiding her confusion.
“However, you are getting a new command. The greatest ship ever constructed by Alliance industry. Invictus.”
It was an honor, one of momentous proportions. Invictus had been under construction for three years, the greatest battleship in Alliance history. And the command of the strongest ship in the fleet would be a direct stepping stone to the high command.
“I’m honored, Uncle. To be Commander-Primus in the fleet…” Her words drifted off as she saw Vennius’s face.
“You deserve Invictus, Kat, more than any officer I have ever known. In fact, your elevation to fleet command is all but assured. But…”
“But?” She was beginning to realize just how uncomfortable Vennius was. “What am I to do, Uncle?”
“The Council hasn’t abandoned all caution, Kat. An invasion of the Confederation, one launched in coordination with a Union assault, will likely encounter limited resistance. Most of the Confederation fleet is posted to the Union border. But even if our forces face only token garrisons, the logistical challenges of mounting and maintaining an invasion are considerable. If we’re unable to supply our forces adequately, our fleets could bog down. We could even find ourselves exposed to Union treachery if our respective fleets meet when they’re well-supplied and we’re overextended.”
“I agree, Uncle, certainly. But what can I do to change that?”
“The Council has decided to dispatch Invictus on a preliminary mission, one with two primary goals. As you know, there’s only one reliable route to Confederation space that doesn’t pass through one or more of the remaining Unaligned Systems.”
“The Dragon’s Tail.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But that course runs through eight systems. We would need…” She suddenly understood.
“Yes, and that’s the first purpose of your mission. You are to take Invictus down the Dragon’s Tail and into Confederation space. You are to probe, to confirm that there are no capital ships deployed to the border. You will destroy their frontier outposts, and occupy the planet Santis. It has a refueling station the fleet can use to support the invasion, and its defenses are minimal. It is essential to our purposes.”
“I understand, Uncle.” She paused. “You said there were two primary purposes. What’s the other?”
“To test the Confeds, to confirm that they are indeed weak in the sectors we would attack. As I said, the Council has not given up all prudence. They believe the Confeds are soft, that the way is open to invade, to slice deeply into their underbelly. And they want you to prove it. Your success will be the catalyst, the signal for war. If you secure Santis, if you defeat anything they are able to throw at you, the fleet will be dispatched.”
Vennius looked down at his desk, pulling his eyes from hers. “I wouldn’t have chosen you for this mission, Kat.” His voice was soft, grim. “I do you a dishonor, perhaps, to say this, but I would have you spared from this danger. The Council views the Confederation as weak, the second-line forces you are likely to encounter as no real threat.” He paused again, his discomfort clear.
“But you feel differently?” There was no recrimination in her voice, no offense at Vennius’s words.
“I don’t know, Kat. I fear we may be underestimating the strength of the Confeds. We assume the Union, larger and stronger, will conquer them in the coming war, yet there have been three such conflicts before, and the Confederation stands, stronger perhaps than ever before. I wonder if we wouldn’t be better served seeking alliance with the Confeds and not conquest.”
Kat sat silently for a few seconds, pondering the older man’s words. They were bold, and they tread close to challenging Alliance orthodoxy. Conquest was the way, the only way. So it had been since the first days when the former slaves of Palatia burst forth to take their revenge for a century of subjugation and despair. War was the only policy the Alliance knew, military strength the unquestioned priority of its ruling class. Katrine had been brought up in that culture, and she had lived and breathed its disciplines. She understood it all…yet she respected Vennius’s intelligence, and she saw the logic in his words.
“But sir, the Confeds are far less aggressive than the Union. They’re paralyzed by their republican government, pulled one way by corrupt politicians and another by a soft and spoiled populace. Perhaps the Council is correct. If we’re able to seize half their territory, the relative size difference between the Union and us would swing in our favor. And if they’re forced to face the bulk of the Confederation’s strength, their own forces will be badly attrited by the end of the conflict. They will be weak in victory, even as we will be strong.”
“That’s the Council’s rationale. But I fear we’ll discover they are less easily defeated than we expect. They have weaknesses, no doubt, but their navy is strong, their Marines a force to be reckoned with. They’re different than us, their priorities strange to our way of thinking. We’ve paid little attention to their history, but I’ve read several accounts of the past wars they fought with the Union. They were outnumbered in all of them, yet they’ve survived the Union threat longer than the Alliance has existed. I believe they’ll fight to the end, and that it will be far more difficult to conquer them than the Council anticipates. And I suspect the Union knows as much. Why else would they seek our aid, offer to share the spoils?”
“Perhaps you’re correct, Uncle…and yet it doesn’t matter—orders are orders. They are to be obeyed, not questioned.”
“You speak the truth. Which is why you’re here, why I’m giving you these orders.” His tone made it clear if he’d had any other option, he would have taken it.
Kat nodded. “Very well, Commander-Maximus.” It seemed to her the acceptance of such orders should be done formally, even by one who used to call the issuing officer Uncle Taks. “I will do all I can to see these orders successfully executed.” She frowned a little. Vennius’s words were still going through her mind…and she was seeing the sense in them. And the success of her mission would bring the Alliance another war, the biggest one in its history. More dead comrades.
“The Santis system is crucial, Kat. You must take the refueling station there before the fleet can commit to a full scale invasion. You’ll have three full strike forces of stormtroopers on Invictus. That should be a sufficient force to defeat the Confederation Marines deployed there and effectively garrison the planet until the fleet arrives.”
“Understood.” There was something else, something the older man was reluctant to tell her. She almost asked, but she held back, waited.
“There is one more provision in your orders, Kat.” She could tell instantly how much Vennius didn’t like it, whatever it was.
“Invictus will be considered a rogue ship during your mission, Kat, not an Alliance naval v
essel. The Council was adamant about this, just in case the Confeds’ defenses are stronger than we expect. It is imperative that none of your people are captured, or that any physical proof links you to Palatia in any way. You cannot retreat in any way that would allow the enemy to follow you back to Alliance space. You must succeed, or…” Vennius paused, his voice strained, cracking. He didn’t finish the sentence…he didn’t have to. Both he and Kat knew what he was telling her. Alliance ships didn’t surrender. And they both knew if Invictus was challenged by a superior force, retreat wouldn’t be an option either. That only left one alternative to victory.
Vennius didn’t say anything further, but the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable.
Kat sat still for a moment, digesting what she had just been told. “I understand, sir.” She could feel how much it was hurting Vennius to send her on such a dangerous mission. She tried to think of something to say, any words from her that would ease the old man’s mind. But there was nothing. Finally, she just asked, “What about a crew?”
“All of your survivors from Vindictus have already been transferred. And I’ve taken the liberty of selecting the rest for you.”
“Thank you, sir.” She felt a wave of relief. If Vennius had chosen the new members of her crew, she could be sure of every one of them.
Vennius looked down at the desk for a few seconds, silent, sad. Then he reached into a small drawer, pulling out a data chip. “I was able to extract one thing from the Council, Kat. It won’t make the mission any easier—or less dangerous—but it is well deserved.” He slid the chip across the table. “Your promotion to Commander-Altum, effective immediately on your return. If the war comes, you will not command a ship, Kat. You will lead a fleet into battle.”
Kat felt a rush of surprise. She was young to be a Commander-Princeps, but a Commander-Altum? It was almost without precedent. She would be the youngest she could recall, perhaps the youngest ever.
“Thank you, Uncle.” The words seemed inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say. So, she decided to throw all protocol and decorum to the wind. She stood up and walked around the desk, and then she leaned down and planted a kiss on the old man’s cheek.
Chapter Six
Confederation Intelligence Report
Highest Classification
As per previous directives, we have increased analysis of recent Alliance activities, notably the apparent success they appear to have had in recent wars with a number of the Unaligned Systems. It is now confirmed that six previously independent planets have been conquered, including Heliopolis, which has a considerably higher general technology level than the Alliance itself. This increases the number of confirmed Alliance systems to thirty. It is recommended that additional intelligence assets be assigned to monitor the Alliance and that diplomatic efforts be initiated to neutralize any potential threat of future conflict.
During our operations, we uncovered circumstantial evidence of Union communication with the Alliance. Previously, our operating assumption had been there was no contact between the powers. There is little concrete information on what types of communications may have taken place or how long the two powers have been in contact. However, we consider this a situation of the direst import. All customs and transit authorities have been instructed to increase security procedures to discover any Union personnel traveling through Confederation space en route to the Alliance. Further, we have activated a level one operative on the Union capital to attempt to obtain more information of any Union-Alliance communications.
CFS Dauntless
In Space Dock
Archellia, Cassiopolis III
307 AC
The Confederation had fought the Union three times before.
Barron knew that well, and he was convinced the secrets to victory in the looming fourth conflict lay in the lessons to be learned from the first three. He had plenty of work to do in the present, even with Dauntless in port for repairs, but he was distracted. The past had always called to him, promising answers to current problems if he was clever enough to decipher them.
He glanced down at the screen on the side of the desk. He’d been trying to catch up on some work, but his mind had wandered, and he’d ended up flipping back and forth between the boring supply requisitions and the history text he’d been reading.
Barron was a bit of an amateur historian, and he indulged his hobby whenever possible. He tended to spend his free time prowling the data systems of planets he visited, searching for rare histories and memoirs he’d never seen before…like the one on the screen now. He’d downloaded the massive file before Dauntless had deployed to the Union border, intending to read it during the deployment. But it was a heavy, academic work, not an easy read, and he’d found himself too on edge to make much progress. He’d had trouble concentrating on the thick wording and massive lists of statistics, at least with the threat of Union attack weighing on him every moment.
That is something I plan to correct here on Archellia. I should have plenty of time to polish this off here.
The text was yet another account of the Confederation-Union conflicts, but it had some perspectives he’d never seen in any other work, and he found it thought-provoking, at least from what little he’d read. He wasn’t sure he’d agree with the author on many of his conclusions, but he was certain they’d be worth analyzing.
Our lives, at least as we know them, depend on finding a way to defeat the Union. If the Confederation is conquered by the Union, a hundred worlds and billions of free people—more or less free, at least—will fall into slavery…
Barron had his criticisms of the Confederation government, with the corruption and the deceit of its politicians. But he had seen the intel reports from the Union, and they had awakened him to how much of a nightmare government could become. The standard of living in the Union was appalling, at least by Confederation standards, and most of the people lived at bare sustenance levels, in constant fear of the authorities, while the masters, the ministers and commissars and party officials, lived lives of obscene luxury. He knew the Confederation had lost millions of people in the wars with the Union, but he was sure of one thing. None of them had died in vain. The Confederation was a spark of light in the post-Cataclysm universe, and even if that illumination sometimes appeared dim and faltering, it was vastly preferable to any of the alternatives.
The first conflict between the powers was still called the War of Shame, and it had cost the Confederation ten border systems, a swath of planets still called the Lost Worlds…and all still claimed by the Confederation, despite three generations of inhabitants born under Union rule.
The story of the second war was the tale of his grandfather. The Union was larger and stronger, and the second war began as the first one had ended, with defeat before the superior arms of the enemy. Until Rance Barron led a phalanx of young officers to the forefront, casting aside the fossilized high command and revolutionizing the Confederation navy. In a series of running battles, this new guard fought the Union to a standstill. The elder Barron hadn’t been able to liberate the Lost Worlds, but he had saved the Confederation from total conquest, and he’d become a national hero in the process.
Rance Barron’s exploits were taught in every school in the Confederation. But Tyler had memories of his grandfather the others didn’t…fishing trips to the cold rivers north of the family estate on Corellia, late night games of chess in front of a roaring fire. Rance Barron wasn’t just a great warrior to him, he was much, much more, and Tyler resented how the constant pressure and repeated comparisons so often pushed those pleasant thoughts from his mind.
The Third War had picked up where the second ended…at least until the Union managed to obtain intel on the location of Admiral Barron’s ship. The resulting attack cost the Confederation its greatest hero and threatened to turn the tide yet again. But the Union First died shortly after, and a massive power struggle erupted, crippling the enemy’s ability to wage the war.
Admiral Barr
on’s protégés had been quick to take advantage of the situation, but their victories were limited. The Union sued for peace, and the civilian government opened talks almost immediately. The military commanders begged for the authority to continue their attacks, but the Confederation was a republic, and its people and politicians were sick of war. The warnings of the generals and admirals, that once the Union restored internal order the threat would reappear, were largely ignored, and the war ended with the Confederation regaining two of the Lost Worlds, but leaving the remaining eight to enter their third generation in captivity.
Barron leaned back in his chair, putting his hand to his forehead. He wondered what his grandfather would have said, if his influence would have been enough to gain the support he would have needed to push the last war to a more definitive conclusion. But that was immaterial. The past was set, and now his own generation would have to finish what the previous one had left undone. The Union was determined to subjugate the Confederation. The better part of a century of warfare had proven that beyond doubt. If the Confederation was ever to have true peace, Barron realized, it had to do more than beat back another Union attack. It had to destroy its enemy…or at least inflict enough pain to make another attack unthinkable.
A small buzzer sounded, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Captain, Commander Travis is at the door.”
“Open,” Barron snapped to the AI. The door slid aside, and Dauntless’s tactical officer walked in.
“I saw you were still aboard, Captain.”
“Tyler will do, Atara. I strongly suspect we are the only two members of the crew still on the ship. Or onboard again, should I say? I thought you left yesterday.”
