21:00 March 26, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Captain’s Breakout Room
Once again, the holographic conferencing program vastly expanded the tiny conference room attached to Kyle’s office. The small room was undecorated except for a copy of Avalon’s commissioning seal—a gold circle around a hand rising from waves, with the hull number DSC-0078 at the top and the ship’s name at the bottom—painted onto one wall.
That seal was currently hidden by the projectors, which were creating the image of a room large enough to hold every Captain, XO and CAG in the entirety of Seventh Fleet, plus Rear Admiral Miriam Alstairs and her chief of staff.
Even knowing only three of those thirty-five people were actually in his conference room, knowing the true dimensions of the room left Kyle feeling mildly crowded at the size of the briefing.
And this time it was definitely a briefing, not a meeting. Kyle could guess what was coming, as the two Force Commanders had spent most of the day after the attack on Zahn discussing their options, but even he didn’t know what Alstairs’ ensuing discussions with High Command had turned up.
“Ladies, gentlemen, herms,” Alstairs said calmly. “We are all aware of the attack on Zahn, and it does change our operational objectives and constraints. The presence of a significant Commonwealth Navy force in the region is a clear and present threat both to our direct objectives and to the safety of the worlds we are here to liberate.
“I have consulted with many of you over yesterday and today both directly and in groups, and have spent the last few hours in direct conference with Fleet Admiral Blake and Sky Marshal von Stenger. We believe we have assembled a strategy that will enable us to complete Rising Star’s operational objectives.”
A three-dimensional map of the region appeared in the center of the briefing room, the six inhabited stars highlighted amidst the dozen or so uninhabited systems in a spherical region of space almost thirty light-years across, from Cora—closest to Alliance space—to Via Somnia—inside Commonwealth space.
“We have now liberated these four systems,” Alstairs noted, with Seventh Fleet’s previous targets flashing in the screen. “The Commonwealth force hit Zahn, here.” Zahn flashed red. “They trashed the orbital defenses, vaporized what orbital industry was still left, and then moved on. At this point, Zahn has been left with no significant strategic value to either side,” she said grimly, “which I’m sure was their intent.”
Distance markers flashed up on the screens, as even trained eyes could misread scale and distance looking at three-dimensional models like this.
“This puts them ten light-years from Frihet, eight light-years from Hammerveldt, ten light-years from Cora—and also twenty-one from Via Somnia and eighteen from Huī Xing.
“We are thirteen light-years from Via Somnia, and nine from Huī Xing,” she continued. “An assault group from here can be at Huī Xing in six days—Via Somnia in a little over seven. That force may be making payback strikes right now, but if they face a clear and present danger to their logistics base, they will have to move to defend it.
“And that, people, is our opportunity,” Alstairs finished flatly. “Over the next twelve hours, the Fifty-Eighth and One Twenty-Fifth Brigades will be transferring from their assault transports to the ships of Seventh Fleet.
“The transports themselves, along with our empty logistics freighter and the freighter carrying the defensive suites for Huī Xing, will be assigned to Battle Group Seven-Two under Force Commander Roberts,” she continued. “The transports have significant ECM capabilities of their own, and the freighters will have several ECM drones mounted to their hulls, allowing all five ships to pretend to be warships.”
Kyle nodded as the concept sunk in. He’d wondered how they could pull the enemy fleet away from Via Somnia without actually sending the lion’s share of Seventh Fleet to Huī Xing. Using the support ships as decoys would definitely work.
“Seven-Two is weak on starfighters,” he admitted. “If we’re pretending to be the entire Fleet…”
“We will reinforce your wings,” Alstairs confirmed. “While we don’t have any additional Templar ships or crews, my understanding is that the Fearless-class cruisers are able to service Falcons?”
Her questioning glance went to Captains Olivier and Albert, who both nodded.
“We’ll need to fabricate some adaptors, but I’d rather that than going in understrength,” Olivier told the Admiral. “I’m not sure we can support the Arrows, unfortunately.”
“We’ll spread the draw as wide as possible across the Federation ships,” Alstairs assured the other CAGs. “We will need full squadrons—three from each carrier, one from each cruiser.”
The other Federation ship and fighter group commanders winced but nodded.
“I want those transfers complete by ten hundred hours tomorrow,” the Rear Admiral said grimly. “Same time as the Marines. Force Commander Aleppo?”
“I’m handing back the fancy chevron, aren’t I?” the Trade Factor officer replied cheerfully. The only rank insignia for the inherently temporary rank of Force Commander was a small chevron above the original collar insignia.
“Sorry, Lora,” Alstairs confirmed. “We’ll be rolling Seven-Three back into the main fleet. You’ve done a good job, but we’ll need the firepower to take on Via Somnia.”
“It wasn’t something I would ever get to keep,” Aleppo told her.
“The plan, as it stands,” the Admiral told everyone, “is that we move out at eleven hundred hours tomorrow morning. Battle Group Seven-Two hits Huī Xing hard. Punch out their defenses and any ships they have left. Be…paranoid. Make them think they can intercept you, that it will be a fair fight.”
“I can do that,” Kyle said after a moment. “What about the logistics depot?”
“If it’s still there, I leave it to your discretion,” Alstairs told him. “If the Terrans are clearly using it, you are authorized to destroy it by long-range bombardment. We’ll discuss the exact details of your mission before you leave.”
“Understand, ma’am,” Kyle agreed. He wondered why he was the one keeping the chevron—Aleppo was the senior Captain and he had figured that if one of them had to give up the Force Commander rank, it would be him.
“With the Marines aboard, the rest of Seventh Fleet will proceed to the Via Somnia system,” Alstairs continued. “I will note that only four light-years separate Via Somnia and Huī Xing. Either Battle Group can move to relieve the other if needed.”
Assuming the group in need of relief could survive four days, at least. The light-year-per-day-squared acceleration of the Alcubierre-Stetson drive, with its need to decelerate to the same velocity you started with, made longer-distance trips more efficient than short-range jumps.
“While Battle Group Seven-Two attracts the attention of the Commonwealth nodal fleet, Seventh Fleet will assault Via Somnia,” Alstairs concluded. “With the warships drawn out of position, we should mostly be facing fixed defenses that can be engaged from long range. Once the defenses have been neutralized, we will deliver the Marines to board the remaining facilities. Once Via Somnia is ours, we will set up the defensive suites we brought with us.
“At that point, Seven-Two will fall back to Via Somnia, presumably bringing the Commonwealth fleet with them. Expecting to arrive in a system under their control, they will instead find the rest of Seventh Fleet and our fixed defenses waiting for them.
“Once they arrive, they can run or they can fight against overwhelming odds. Either way, this sector will be secure.”
“I’m sure you have questions, Kyle,” Admiral Alstairs told him as he settled into his office chair, the main briefing over and a private channel now open between them. “Shoot.”
“More than a few,” he admitted, his usual cheerfulness beginning to return after the shock of the loss at Zahn. “Not that I’m objecting to the chance to crack some Terran skulls, but why me? I would figure Aleppo was a better choice for an independent command if you o
nly needed one of us.”
“It’s not a question of seniority, Kyle,” she pointed out. “It’s a question of skillset and temperament. Lora is a very competent officer, perfectly capable of planning and leading an attack on Huī Xing and fighting any enemy on equal ground.
“But I’m not sending you to fight an equal enemy, Force Commander,” she said flatly. “I’m sending you to play matador to a fleet with twice your hulls, twice your cubage, and a clearly competent commander. Encountering that force, what would Aleppo do, Roberts?”
“Withdraw,” he responded immediately. “It’s the only sensible tactical choice.”
“Exactly,” Alstairs told him. “But the right tactical choice won’t meet the operational objectives. I need that fleet in Huī Xing. I need them to stay in Huī Xing until we are in possession of Via Somnia and in a position to kick their ass when you bring them to me.
“Aleppo doesn’t have the twisty brain necessary to play cat and mouse with a superior fleet for a goddamn week, Kyle, and that’s what I need you to do. Plus, the Commonwealth knows your reputation by now. If I can’t send enough actual ships to make them think you’re a real threat, I can send the Stellar Fox.”
“I hate that nickname,” Kyle observed. “I’m considering a campaign of beating up journalists in dark alleys when I get home to convince them to stop using it.”
The Admiral laughed, shaking her head at him.
“That may be, Roberts, but it’s a name the Terrans know,” she told him. “A name whose presence makes Battle Group Avalon a threat they have to respect. Combined with the ECM to make them think your Battle Group is a fleet, you should be able to attract their attention before we hit Via Somnia.
“I intend to hold Seventh Fleet outside Via Somnia until they have arrived at Huī Xing,” she admitted. “We need a week to get the defenses online—I need you to hold their nodal fleet for three days, Kyle. Don’t let them trap you in the gravity well. Drag them out, dance around them—keep them guessing.”
She shook her head, her eyes grim.
“Bluntly, Kyle, being in control of Via Somnia and having the defenses in place is critical,” she told him. “Which brings me to the other reason I chose you over Aleppo: she’s a brave woman, a strong woman—but I don’t think she has the steel in her spine to lose starships and still fight a holding action.”
He swallowed. Starships were massive investments in money, technology and lives. Losing them was a high price to pay, especially given the losses the Alliance had already taken in the war. The massive industrial might of the Commonwealth could replace the ships the Terrans had already lost in this campaign more readily than the Alliance could replace Avalon alone.
“I need you to press them that hard,” Alstairs said quietly. “I’d rather you came home with everyone—all your ships, all your fighters, all your people. But if it comes down to a close action or that fleet arriving at Via Somnia before we’re ready for them, I need you prepared to spend starships to hold them. Do you understand me, Force Commander Roberts?”
He swallowed. He was mentally prepared to lose starfighters—it hurt, but it was what they existed for—and hated it. To be willing to send cruisers, battleships, even Avalon herself to near-certain death to buy time?
“Ma’am, I’m not certain I have that ‘steel in my spine’,” he admitted. “I swore to lead these people, not sacrifice them.”
“I know,” his Admiral told him. “I judge that you have that steel, Kyle. But I don’t want you to fight them, not unless you have to. Keep them guessing, keep them dancing. Outside the gravity well, you can play Alcubierre cat and mouse with them.
“But I need seven days, Force Commander, whatever the cost.”
“Then I guess I will need to hold the Terrans for you,” Kyle said simply.
27
Frihet System
11:00 March 27, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
Force Commander Kyle Roberts watched Frihet and the rest of Seventh Fleet disappear behind him with mixed feelings. Battle Group Seven-Two’s “reinforcements” were a giant bluff, which left him with the same four warships and one understrength Marine brigade to play matador to a fleet of over twice his strength.
His introspection didn’t leak out to his crew. He was sprawled in his command chair with a giant grin on his face, projecting a confidence he mostly did feel. If Avalon was being sent to fight the Commonwealth’s local fleet, it would be a suicide mission. But since his job was to simply keep them in one place, he figured he could do it.
“What’s our ETA to Alcubierre distance, Commander?” he asked Pendez.
“Two hours, Force Commander,” she told him. “Then six days, one hour, thirty-five minutes to Huī Xing. We will arrive approximately twelve hundred thirty hours on April second.”
“Any commentary from the other navigators?” Kyle said. With three more ships tacked onto his order of battle, even if none of them were actual warships, he was now asking the Fleet Commander to coordinate courses for nine starships.
It was a task well outside of her normal responsibilities—and one to which she was rising with an aplomb he was carefully noting for his personnel evaluation on Fleet Commander Maria Pendez. The evaluation in which he intended to recommend she get the third gold circle of a Senior Fleet Commander and move to an XO role somewhere.
“Commentary?” she replied. “Yeah, we got commentary. Useful or meaningful feedback? Not a drop.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “Any concerns of your own?”
“We’re not pushing the engines or doing anything twisty,” Pendez told him. “It’s a pretty straightforward trip: accelerate, flip, decelerate and drop in well outside the limit. I could plot this course in my sleep.”
“Please don’t,” Kyle told her. “I’m going to check in with the flagship. Prod my implant if you see anything.”
With that, he was effectively surrendering the watch to her. As the carrier’s navigator, Pendez stood only a few of the formal watches—a gap in her experience he was quietly making up to allow for the XO slot she didn’t know was in her future.
“Have fun, sir,” his navigator told him with a meaningful wink.
A mental command dropped a privacy screen around his command chair, blocking off sound from the rest of the bridge. His implant was still open to accept messages, but his people couldn’t overhear his conversations now.
Kyle opened a channel to Camerone. He didn’t even have to ask for Mira, as the Captain had obviously been waiting for him to reach out.
“We’re on our way,” he told her with a smile. “Arrival on the second, a little after twelve hundred hours.”
The flagship’s captain nodded.
“I’ll pass the timing on to the Admiral,” she replied. “Any concerns I should pass on as well?”
“She and I went over everything last night,” Kyle said. “I know what needs to be done.”
There was silence on the transmission for a moment, the professional part of the conversation over but neither quite willing to leave it at that.
“Be careful,” she finally said. “It looks like a suicide mission to me.”
“It isn’t,” he reassured her. “I don’t think the Admiral is any more interested in sending my people to their deaths than I am. The plan is solid. It’s not risk-free,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but I’m hardly charging their fleet, all guns blazing.”
“I’m not sure I put charging them, guns blazing, past you, Kyle,” his girlfriend noted. “Be careful.”
“I’d only charge them if it would serve a purpose,” he replied. “I will be careful, Mira. I promise. You be careful. Via Somnia is an important naval base, a launching point for this entire invasion. It won’t be a pushover.”
“We’re not expecting it to be,” she replied. “That’s why most of the fleet is going there and not to Huī Xing. We’ll be fine.”
“So will we,” Kyle told her cheerful
ly. “I’ve got Michael and all his people to keep me safe. We’ll toast to victory in Via Somnia—I will see you there.”
“You’re ever the optimist,” Solace replied with a chuckle of her own. “As you say, then—we’ll toast Seventh Fleet in the ruins of Terra’s dreams of conquest!”
12:00 March 27, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, CAG’s Office
Michael’s office was crowded with all five of his Wing Commanders gathered in it, but sometimes that was a necessary price to pay. Rokos had produced a bottle of expensive Castle-made whiskey from somewhere and was passing around small glasses.
“To Flight Commander Antonio Zupan,” the CAG told his officers as he raised his own glass. “May he ever fly amidst the Eternal Stars.”
Michael himself was Christian—Third Reformation Anglican—but the Stellar Spiritualists were the majority aboard Avalon, as they were in the Castle Federation itself. Zupan himself had been as devout a follower as that semi-agnostic religion had.
“May he ever fly,” his Wing Commanders chorused back, and Michael drank. The alcohol burned its way down his throat with a surprisingly smooth fire. It was apparently worth whatever Rokos had paid for it.
The room was silent for a moment in memory. Even in peacetime, the starfighter corps lost people. That was what happened when you flew the most fragile armed spacecraft in the galaxy. At war, though, the Castle Federation Space Force had already grown very used to the loss of men and women they’d served alongside.
“I want,” Michael told them as the moment faded, “to set up an intense series of exercises over the next few days. We have entire new squadrons to integrate into our tactics and to make sure everyone is comfortable at each other’s backs.”
“And if we work them and us as hard as we can, it’s hard to fall into a funk,” Rokos pointed out. “If we keep running, we don’t stop and think.”
“I wasn’t going to admit that part of my thought process,” the CAG told the others with a laugh. “But Russell’s right. We need to keep busy—and our crews need to keep busy. But we also need to be as sharp as possible.
Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon Page 84
