by Jay Allan
Tectus stared back at Vennius, a conflicted look on her face. “Commander-Maximus, you have my loyalty and support in this fight. I believe you are the rightful fleet commander and that those who have usurped that power are traitors. But, I respect you too much to tell you other than the truth. So, I say now, as a doctor, and an Alliance officer…the Imperatrix deserves her rest. If she lives, it will not be for long, nor will it be a life worth living, especially for a woman who was so vital and who led such a dynamic existence. I will treat her wounds, I will aid her if she begins to recover on her own strength. But I will not use extraordinary measures that will prolong only her pain. I will not turn her into a zombie, to be paraded around as a symbol. I respect her too much for that.”
Vennius felt a surge of anger at the doctor’s defiance…or was it defiance? He stood where he was, stone still, and in his mind a conflict began to rage. He was worn, exhausted, driven to the edge of his wits in trying to keep the resistance alive. One side of him argued Dr. Tectus was right, that her words were honorable and wise. The other side was weighed down by the responsibilities that threatened to crush him—and overwhelmed with hatred and fury toward Calavius. He had become obsessed with destroying the man who had once been his friend, and though he knew his rage threatened his judgment, even his sanity, he still could not control it.
“Just do what you can, Doctor,” he said, his words tight, clipped. It was a compromise of sorts between the two sides of his mind, and it was the best he could manage.
“Tarkus…” The voice was frail, weak, barely audible. Vennius almost didn’t hear it…almost.
His eyes darted down, and then he dropped to one knee next to the bed. “Your Supremacy,” he said, glancing quickly up to the doctor and then back.
“Tarkus…no titles. We are…old friends? You called me…Flavia once…did you not?”
“That was many years ago, Your Supremacy, when we fought together.”
“Please…”
Vennius looked around, then back to Tectus. She nodded, the movement barely perceptible, but he knew she was urging him to grant the Imperatrix’s request. Still, he paused. It was improper. It went against all he’d been taught. But then his eyes connected with those of the old woman lying in front of him. He’d seen almost indescribable strength in those eyes, a force that had inspired him more times than he could easily recall. But that power was gone now, and all that was left was the frailty and weakness of an old friend. One he knew was dying.
“Very well…Flavia.” He extended his arm, putting his hand over hers. “We are at Sentinel-2, Your…Flavia. You are receiving the best care possible. You will be up and around soon.”
“I don’t think so, Tarkus…and I would have no lies between us now. I am dying, am I not?”
Vennius bit back on the emotion he felt welling up inside. Finally, he choked out a few words. “I don’t know.”
“Thank you, Tarkus…no falsehoods, not now. Promise?”
“I promise.”
She smiled for a few seconds, and then she closed her eyes. For an instant, he was afraid she was gone, but then he realized she was sleeping.
He stood up and turned toward Tectus. “See she is comfortable, Doctor. And do what you can for her. She is my friend. She saved my life once.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I fear I will prove unequal to repaying the deed.”
“I will contact you at once if there is any change, Commander.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I am sorry if I was…difficult earlier.”
“Not at all, Commander.”
“I will…”
“Commander Vennius, Hastam has returned.” Aurelius came rushing into the room. “Commander Corpus has contacted the base…and he brought a Confederation battleship back with him.”
Vennius’s head spun around. He pushed aside the part of him that was Flavia’s friend, grieving for her injuries. He needed to be Commander Vennius now, the leader of the resistance. He waved his arm. “To the control room, Aurelius. Now. We must speak with Commander Corpus…and the captain of this Confederation ship. At once!”
“Yes, sir.” The aide turned and headed back the way he had come, Vennius following right behind.
He paused at the door, looking back for a few seconds. “Keep her comfortable, Doctor…she deserves that, at least…no matter what.”
Tectus nodded, and then Vennius was out the door.
* * *
“Captain Barron? Dauntless?” It was clear the officer on the comm was trying to keep shock from coming through in his words, and just as obvious he was failing utterly. Barron had suspected his name would be known in the Alliance, and he’d told as much to Striker. But there was more here, not just anger at the defeat of an Alliance battleship. This was personal.
“Yes, Commander Vennius. I am Captain Tyler Barron, commanding CFS Dauntless.” Barron knew there was no point in trying to avoid the topic, so he decided to do the reverse, and to out and out own it. “My duty compelled me to face your vessel Invictus in battle three years ago. Captain Rigellus was an extraordinary adversary, one I honor to this day.” He knew enough about Alliance culture to realize shrinking away from what had happened would only make things worse.
“She was an extraordinary officer, Captain Barron…and a woman worthy of your honor.” Barron could hear the anger in Vennius’s voice, but also the pain. He knew her.
Barron flinched as Doc Weldon slipped the cold metal of the med-probe down his neck. It was beyond annoying to be poked and probed while addressing a foreign leader—one who probably wants your head for killing Commander Rigellus—but at least Weldon had already taken pity on him and given him a shot. It hadn’t been quite the syringe full of energy he’d been hoping for, but it had cleared his head a bit.
“I regret that I could not meet her as an ally, rather than an…” He almost said “enemy.” “…opponent.”
“Indeed, Captain.” The voice had changed a bit, a slight move toward the conciliatory. “That entire incident was unfortunate. Its origins have their seeds in the machinations of your enemies, the Union…as does the current situation.”
“I have come at the request of Commander Corpus. He advises me that the Alliance is divided, that your forces now battle each other.” Again, Barron’s instincts told him directness would serve best in this encounter.
“That is the case, Captain. There is no time for posturing, nor for half-truths. I was deceived, Captain Barron, by a man I long considered a friend. My blindness to his schemes allowed him to seize control of our home world, and, I believe, most of the fleet. We have repulsed one attack, but I expect another at any time.” Vennius hesitated for a few seconds, and then he continued. “Now, I will sacrifice all that remains of my pride, of my honor. I request aid, Captain, from you, who slew my beloved Katrine…and from the Confederation, against whom we conspired with the Union. The loss of Invictus was just punishment, for we should never have invaded your space at their behest. Now, we are brought low, and your people and mine share common cause.”
Barron’s armed jerked forward as Weldon shoved a probe into the flesh of his shoulder. “Commander Vennius, I have come to aid you any way I can. Whatever happened between our people, you are correct that we have an enemy in common. The Union must not be allowed to prevail, for they defeat us, you will certainly be next. And life under their rule would be as repugnant for your people as for mine.”
“I thank you, Captain.” Barron could feel how difficult Vennius’s words were for the commander. ‘Beloved Katrine’…the words were still stuck in his mind, along with the pain in the voice that had uttered them. “What force can you bring to bear?”
“I’m afraid Dauntless is the only battleship I have to offer you at present. If you will allow it, I will send Commander Corpus’s ship back with several of my officers and an urgent request for reinforcements.” Barron put his hand up to his head. He’d felt better after Weldon had given him the injection, but now he felt weak again, almost as if
he was about to faint.
He forced his attention back to Vennius. “I will not lie to you, Commander. Our fleet is fully deployed on our border with the Union. There are no forces available anywhere near the Rim. It will likely be months before anything can be sent to your aid, perhaps even a year. Dauntless will have to do, I’m afraid…for quite some time.”
“We thank you for coming, Captain, and for what force you have to offer.” He could hear the discouragement in Vennius’s tone. The Alliance officer clearly didn’t think Dauntless would be enough. But then, he doesn’t know Dauntless…or her crew.
“We will fight at your side, Commander, if it is necess…” Barron stopped abruptly. He could hear the sounds of sirens and warning bells coming through the comm. Then, Travis spun around.
“Captain, we’re picking up forces transiting into the system. Three battleships, so far. No, four.”
“Battlestations, Commander. All squadrons report to launch bays.”
“Yes, sir.”
The klaxons rang out, and once again, Dauntless’s crew prepared the great battleship for war.
“Five ships, Captain. Six.”
It was a major attack, that was apparent…the one Vennius had said he expected. Dauntless had arrived just in time…to save Vennius’s cause, or to fall alongside the Alliance commander. Barron didn’t know which, not yet.”
“Seven ships. Eight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
CFS Dauntless
Cilian System
Deep in the Alliance
Year 310 AC
“Captain…you have to come down to sickbay with me at once.” Weldon reached down and picked up a small comm unit from his bag. “I will call for a stretcher.”
Barron’s head spun around to face the doctor—and he almost fell out of his chair from the resulting wave of dizziness. “Are you insane, Doc? We’ve got enemy forces transiting into the system. We’re going into battle. Whatever it is, a virus, something bacterial, you’ll just have to give me a shot and be done with it. I promise I’ll come down to sickbay after the battle and…”
“It’s not a virus, Tyler.” Weldon’s voice was deadly serious. “You are sick, very sick…and I have no idea what’s causing it.”
“Very sick…Doc, you’re too dramatic. I’m just a little dizzy, probably overtired. Just…”
“You’re more than a little dizzy, Tyler. Your heartbeat is extremely irregular, and your blood ox levels are dangerously low. I have to get you down to sickbay now, or…”
Barron looked at his doctor, aware that the entire bridge crew was staring at the two of them in undisguised horror. “You must have made a mistake, Doc…I’m in perfect health. You poked and probed me for hours when I got back from leave. I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Listen to me, Tyler…I need to get you to sickbay right now, and I have to do a full workup.
Barron felt a pit in his stomach as the full reality of what Weldon was saying hit him. He didn’t understand…none of it made any sense. But it was clear Weldon was serious.
“Doc, listen to me. We’re going into battle. I don’t care what’s wrong with me, or what you have to do to keep me alert and functioning until that combat is concluded…but I will not be moved from here. Not while this vessel is in danger.”
“Captain, this is serious. We have to go. Now.” Weldon was his friend, and Barron could hear real worry in his voice.
“I will not be moved.” Barron’s words were like iron. He saw Atara Travis jumping out of her seat, heading his way, trying to hide the stunned expression on her face. “Back to your station, Commander Travis. Now.” He turned and looked around the bridge. “All of you, listen very carefully. I will not leave the bridge while we face imminent combat. Now, back to work. We’re at red alert, and I know you all have duties to occupy you. Stay focused on the enemy, and do your jobs, or by the Eleven Hells, you will all answer to me.”
He looked up at Weldon. “Whatever you gave me before made me feel better, Doc, at least for a while. Can you give me a higher dosage? Or whatever else you have to keep me right here and commanding this ship.”
“Tyler…anything I give you now could kill you.”
“Will it kill me immediately?”
Weldon didn’t answer.
“Do it, Doc. That’s an order.”
“Tyler…”
“Do it. Now.”
Weldon hesitated, but then he reached down and pulled out a syringe. He held it for a few seconds, his eyes pleading with Barron. But the captain’s gaze was hard and relentless. “Do it, Doc. Right now. Or I will take that thing from you and use it myself.”
Weldon still hesitated…but then he extended his arm, giving Barron the injection. He turned without a word and leaned over, putting the syringe back into his bag.
“Keep that out, Doc…in case I need more.” Barron felt better than he had a few seconds before, but the shot had worn off quickly the first time, and he intended to take another injection if he needed it to get through the battle, and another…and another. As much as it took to get him through…
* * *
“Billings, what’s the problem? Six months of rest and you’re not up for a little work?” Anya Fritz had shoved her head in the narrow tube, and she was looking up to where Walt Billings was wedged, trying to replace an energy flow control unit. She knew the engineer was doing his best, and Billings was number one on her crew, but she just didn’t know how to turn it down. She spent every battle racing from one problem spot to another, driving her people mercilessly. She knew they had names for her, that they talked about her when she wasn’t around, complained about the brutality they felt she showed them. She also knew her intensity had saved them more than once, along with Dauntless. She and her people had an odd relationship, one where controlled animosity was somehow juxtaposed with loyalty and devotion.
They know they’re the best, and they realized there’s a price to pay for that kind of performance…
“I’m almost done, Commander. The bracket was twisted. I had to force the thing back in place with the power-wrench.”
“I knew you’d have a good reason, Lieutenant. But if it isn’t too much trouble, as soon as you manage to finish here, I need you at reactor A. The shielding is buckling, and we’ve got to backstop it or we’re going to have to scrag the thing to prevent radiation leakage.” Losing the output of a reactor in the middle of the battle was not good. As hard as Fritz was on her engineers, Captain Barron was no less intense, and the last thing she wanted to do was tell Dauntless’s skipper that he’d lost a huge chunk of his power.
“I’ll be there in five minutes, Commander.” A pause. “Is it true there’s something wrong with the captain?”
Fritz sighed hard. She’d heard the same rumors. Even in the middle of battle they were flying around the ship. Captain Barron was sick…he was wounded. She didn’t know any more than Billings did, and she was no less worried about it. But she knew it would do no damned good for Dauntless’s crew to be worrying about their captain when they had a battle to fight.
“No, Billings, I just talked to him,” she lied. “He’s fine.”
Actually, Fritz hadn’t heard from Barron at all, and that more than anything had her worried. Dauntless’s captain was on the comm with her constantly in battles, checking in after every hit, asking for status updates…and, she suspected, doing the same thing she did to her people, feeling that the relentless pressure enhanced productivity. But not this time. And with every moment her comm unit stayed silent, her concern grew.
Come on, Cap…call me, harass me about the reactors. Something…
But the unit remained silent.
* * *
Vennius watched the battle unfolding all around Sentinel-2. Calavius had sent a bigger fleet this time, but Vennius had been reinforced since the last encounter. The escorts he had sent out as heralds had at last scored some successes. The battleship Fulgur took its place at the end of his lin
e, its thirty-six fighters more than replacing his small fleet’s losses from the first engagement. Five of his original escort ships were back, along with another seven they had found and rallied to the cause. Most important, perhaps, was the success Commander Corpus had achieved. Tyler Barron and Dauntless had joined his force, ready to fight.
It was a bittersweet triumph, and he raged inside, images of Kat flashing through his mind. But he knew imagining thoughts of vengeance on Barron were beneath him, and beneath Katrine’s dignity. Barron had won their battle fairly, and honor would have required Vennius to accept his new ally, even if bitter necessity hadn’t. He’d wished for a moment that Corpus had found another ship, a different captain, to bring back. But then he realized that was a foolish, shallow thought. Tyler Barron was the best the Confederation had, as was Dauntless. He’d hoped for a larger force, more ships to aid him in his fight. But if one battleship was all he could have, he knew he couldn’t have wished for a better one.
This man and his ship bested Katrine…and if they did that, they must live up to their reputation…
“Commander, the fighters are attacking.”
Vennius nodded at the report, angling his head so he could see the display. The squadrons from the base had joined up with those from his battleships. He had escort ships covering his flanks this time, and that relieved him of the need to detach squadrons from the main force, increasing his striking power. But Calavius’s forces had more fighters now too. It looked very much like a replay of the last battle, with one giant, inconclusive dogfight between the two lines. Save for one thing.
His eyes moved to the side, to the cloud of tiny dots representing Dauntless’s squadrons. His intelligence reports had suggested the Confederation vessel carried sixty fighters, an impressive enough complement. But there were more ships on the screen, nearly seventy, and one look told him the Confederation birds had greater thrust capacity than his own. Dauntless’s fighters had an awesome reputation, and their exploits in the war against the Union had reached even the eyes and ears of interested parties in the Alliance.
