“And now,” Alstairs continued, “I intend to exercise my renowned powers of subtlety and slice off Commander Anderson and Commodore Stanford to discuss their impressions of the new Templar-type starfighters the Phoenix cruisers have brought us—leaving you, Captain Roberts, to the tender mercy of my flag captain.”
While they’d been speaking, Mira Solace had arrived behind the Admiral. The smile she directed at Kyle was surprisingly shy for a woman he’d seen remain a black onyx statue while ships and worlds burned around them. He suspected his own expression was something similarly foolish.
“Chop, chop, boys,” Admiral Alstairs told Kyle’s two senior officers, then turned to the two lovers with a serious expression on her face. “You’ve got about five minutes of privacy, then dinner is starting. We’ll be busy for a while after that, and I want both of your opinions on our orders. Use what time you have.”
With that, she swept off with two overwhelmed-looking officers in tow. Solace kept smiling at Kyle and he felt his heart flip.
“This way,” she said quietly, leading him out of the lounge into a side corridor.
#
Five minutes together wasn’t nearly long enough for them to catch up, even after only a week completely apart. But it was enough for Mira to regain some of her equilibrium and reenter the now-crowded lounge with equanimity.
It was almost certain that someone in the crowd had noticed her and Captain Roberts entering together and drawn the correct conclusion. As far as she was concerned, they were welcome to it—there were no regulations being violated, so as long as they were moderately discreet, there was no problem.
They returned just in time, as Mira’s chief steward promptly informed the gathered guests that dinner was served. Camerone’s captain had helped put together the menu, and she was eager to see it turned into reality.
The battlecruiser’s staff of stewards had truly outdone themselves on the preparations as well. Once dinner was called, the folding barrier that had split the lounge in half slid out of the way to reveal five small six-person tables and one larger table for the Admiral herself. Each table was covered in a white tablecloth and already held steaming bowls of soup.
Avalon’s officers, as befitted the staff of the Battle Group’s former flagship, were seated at the larger table with the Admiral, her chief of staff, and Camerone’s senior officers. Politely unobtrusive stewards made sure that each of the officers ended up at the table designated for their ship.
Once everyone was seated, Admiral Alstairs stood and tapped a spoon against her wine glass to gather everyone’s attention.
“Ladies, gentlemen, herms,” she greeted them. “We have four Navies and Space Forces represented here tonight, each with their own traditional toasts and greetings for these affairs. Unlike most of you, I served in the last war—a very young, very junior officer then—but I remember the tradition we forged in the face of the enemy.”
She raised her glass.
“Spacers of the free stars, I give you liberty and the Alliance!”
#
When the dinner was done and the food was cleared away, Kyle knew better than to let himself sink into a food coma. He might not have the high-powered link to his in-head computer he’d had as a starfighter pilot, but even the implant capabilities his injury had left him were enough to pick up the holographic display tank hidden under the white tablecloth.
Once again, Rear Admiral Alstairs rose and commanded everyone’s attention. Avalon’s captain found the small woman’s ability to do so impressive—he could dominate a room without much effort, but he was a good foot taller than Alstairs and twice as broad. Size wasn’t everything, but it certainly helped.
“As those of you who’ve been paying attention have probably realized by now, you’re not getting away without some work this evening,” she told them all. “We have received our orders from Alliance High Command, and I intend to pick your collective brains on how best to achieve them.
“First, however, I have an announcement from Alliance High Command that affects you all,” she continued. “We are, as of twelve hundred Earth Meridian today, no longer designated Battle Group Seventeen. With the addition of our reinforcements, we are now the eighth largest deployment of Alliance warships and have been appropriately re-designated.
“We are now Alliance Seventh Fleet,” Rear Admiral Alstairs told her senior officers. “I have been informed that to avoid further disruption to our chain of command, I am to remain in command of Seventh Fleet for the immediate future. Admiralties being notoriously frugal, you can guess how much of a raise that came with.”
Kyle joined in the collective chuckle that resulted.
“I have also been informed that we are intended to act as one of the Alliance’s two main offensive forces until the rest of the reserve is online and fully refitted,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “The other force, designated Fourth Fleet, has been tasked with retaking the systems that fell in the Commonwealth’s most recent campaign. We, for our sin of being in one of the systems the Commonwealth took in their first attack, have a different objective.”
The projector underneath the head table whirred to life, and a three-dimensional image of the section of space the Terran Commonwealth had designated the “Rimward Marches”—and the Alliance of Free Stars simply called “home.”
The front ran through the middle of the map. On one side, the immense red sphere of the Terran Commonwealth, the largest star nation in human space—and one convinced that all human space should be part of itself. On the other side, the dozen different variations of green that marked the different polities that made up the Alliance of Free Stars.
“We are here,” she noted. A single star in the middle of the three-dimensional display flashed green. Many of the stars around it were red, marked with green carats to note that they had been Alliance worlds. “Thanks to Captain Roberts”—she nodded to Kyle— “we retook Alizon from the Commonwealth. But the other five systems that the Commonwealth took in their first offensive remain in Terran hands.
“Seventh Fleet has been tasked with liberating those systems.”
Kyle ignored the consternation in the rest of the room as he leaned in to study the display. It didn’t include any detail on the estimated Commonwealth strength in each system, but the astrography itself laid out some of their priorities.
Alizon was the most “northern” system—galactic north being defined based on Earth’s polar direction and a ninety-degree angle versus Sol’s ecliptic plane—of the six taken in the first wave. Three of the other five were “beneath” Alizon, spread out almost equidistant along a line that had marked the old limits of the Alliance. Frihet sat in an almost mirror position to Alizon to the galactic south, and then Huī Xing was further coreward, once the closest Alliance system to the Commonwealth.
“As part of that tasking,” Alstairs noted, “we are not expected to maintain the security of Alizon. The Alizon Star Guard had a carrier assigned to the fleet at Midori. With the Royal Phoenix Navy reinforcing that fleet with the rest of their reserve, Alliance High Command has agreed that the Star Guard should come home.
“They’ll be bringing friends from Thorn and Sebring as well,” she continued. “A three-ship task group, combined with the gunships and fortifications that have been brought in over the last month, should suffice to protect Alizon while Seventh Fleet kicks the Commonwealth off the rest of our worlds. They’re scheduled to arrive in four days, at which point we are expected to commence offensive operations.”
“It’s going to take most of that to get our deflectors up to the new specs,” Captain Christine Olivier of the Royal Phoenix Navy cruiser Courageous pointed out. “They did all the heavy lifting in the yards back home, but they sent all the reserve ships”—the green-eyed and dark-haired woman gestured around at the rest of the new crews— “out with a lot of parts and pieces still needing to be put in place.”
Kyle nodded to himself, surprised they’d made even that mu
ch of a concession to getting the ships forward. The early months of the war had shown that ships with last-generation deflectors were far too vulnerable to high-power positron beams to be allowed in the line of battle. Facing an enemy with the same weapons, the older ships had half the effective range of a modern vessel. A mass refit program had been commenced, and High Command had ordered that no ship without modern defenses was to be allowed at the front.
“My information is that that should take roughly a week?” Alstairs asked Olivier.
“That’s what my engineers are saying,” Olivier agreed, glancing around at the other captains for confirmation. No one argued—but who would want to be the one telling the Admiral you’d take longer than everyone else?
“Good,” the Admiral said. “I will delay our operations before I’ll send out ships that aren’t ready, people,” she told them firmly. “Our intelligence on enemy strength is mixed but suggests that each of our old systems is currently defended by three capital ships, mostly older cruisers and carriers.
“My preference is to assume they have the same upgrades we have,” she noted dryly. “While the geography suggests certain courses of action to me, I want to hear everyone’s opinions.”
Other holotanks lit up under each of the tables, mirroring the main table though not yet allowing access.
“We have one final mission objective that I haven’t mentioned yet,” the Admiral told them as everyone studied the tanks. A single red star without a green carat acquired a flashing gold carat. Kyle placed it immediately from his pre-war briefings and inhaled sharply as he waited for her to confirm his assessment.
“Once we have liberated the systems the Commonwealth has taken from us, our final mission objective is to assault the Commonwealth naval base at Via Somnia,” she said flatly. “The intention, ladies and gentlemen, is both to neutralize a clear and present danger to Alliance systems—and to, for the first time ever, seize and occupy a Commonwealth star system.”
Chapter 3
Alizon System
22:00 February 20, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
BC-129 Camerone, Deck Two Officers’ Lounge
A plan was starting to come together around the room, most of the officers seeing the same astrography that Kyle had and using it to inform the suggested strategy. The main idea seemed to be to hit the first three systems, Cora, Frihet, and Hammerveldt, simultaneously—punch out most of the holding forces in the region before the Commonwealth even knew the Alliance was going on the offensive.
It definitely had appeal to Kyle. The most successful offensive the Alliance had launched to date had been almost an accident, triggered when Battle Group Seventeen’s then-commander, Vice Admiral Tobin, had launched a revenge campaign for the bombardment of an Alliance world.
Tobin had disobeyed orders, lied to Kyle and his officers, betrayed the trusts given to him—and led Avalon to liberate Alizon and destroy four Commonwealth capital ships. His crimes had left him in a brig cell orbiting Alizon for now, but his victories would likely buy him a quiet discharge without prejudice.
Few of the other occupants of those brig cells would share that mercy. Tobin’s chief of staff had turned out to be a spy and an assassin, and had used the authority of her position to organize an attempted mutiny against Kyle. Her deception meant most of the prisoners were only facing dishonorable discharge, with only her core conspirators and those guilty of murder facing major charges.
The plan taking shape around the room—apparently already code-named Operation Rising Star by Alliance High Command—would follow up on Tobin’s unauthorized victories and kick the Commonwealth in the teeth. Given the availability of quantum-entanglement communications, the use of multiple dispersed and converging battle groups was possible, if risky. The op plan allowed them to back off at multiple points if they took too much damage or faced heavy resistance.
He really liked it. Flexible and aggressive, it was exactly the kind of counterattack the Alliance needed to launch—and from the pleased smile on Admiral Alstairs’ face, it was the plan she’d had in mind from the beginning. By having her captains come up with it, she’d earned their buy-in without even trying, and potentially picked up a few key tricks and details she hadn’t thought of.
Kyle was making mental notes of the tactic when a critical alert slammed into his implant. Every officer in the room stopped what they were doing—mid-action, mid-sentence—as a data dump from the Alizon Star Guard hit them.
The Guard was waiting on the return of its carrier to be a fully reconstituted force, but they’d taken over the logistics depot the Terrans had built in the system. From those resources and a few Q-probes borrowed from Seventh Fleet, they’d assembled a new system scanner net. A net that had now detected something.
“This is Star Guard Sensor Command,” the speaker told everyone after the critical alerts had grabbed their mental attention. “We have Alcubierre-Stetson emergences at the three-light-minute mark. Eight signatures, four twenty-million-ton, four fifteen-million-ton. We are attempting to resolve details, but we have detected the launch of several hundred starfighters.”
That was four modern and four last-generation—but still powerful—warships. More than enough firepower to punch Battle Group Seventeen out of existence…but nowhere near enough to challenge Seventh Fleet.
The room erupted around Kyle. Multiple officers were shouting often-contradictory suggestions at each other and the Admiral, and orders to their juniors.
“Enough!” Alstairs bellowed in a parade-ground voice to make any Marine drill sergeant happy. She waited for the tumult to quiet, then surveyed her people with severe eyes. Kyle was suddenly very glad he hadn’t been one of the officers in near-panic.
“The Commonwealth has just made a critical error,” she pointed out to them. “These ships are insufficient to defeat Seventh Fleet—but they are enough that the Terran commander may be willing to push her luck. Especially if she doesn’t realize our older ships’ deflectors have been upgraded.” Her smile was predatory.
“I intend to take full advantage of that fact.” The holotanks throughout the room now displayed the Alizon system. “Even if they launched a fighter attack immediately upon emergence, we have time, people. Get to your ships. Await my orders. Seventh Fleet will protect Alizon.”
#
“Hold on a moment, Captain Roberts, Captain Solace,” the Admiral said calmly as the room began to empty, gesturing for Kyle and Solace to remain in their seats. “The rest of you can go,” she told the two CAGs and XOs. “Have Avalon’s shuttle ready to fly.”
A moment later, the two captains were alone with Alstairs, who turned a level gaze on them.
“Mira, you’re my flag captain; I need to know your thoughts,” she said calmly. “Kyle, you have one of the most twisted minds I’ve met yet. I want your ideas.”
Kyle gestured for Solace to speak while he organized his thoughts, studying the holotank.
“My main concern is the new ships,” Camerone’s Captain said after a moment. “Their deflectors are upgraded from what they were, but they’re still not up to the standard we want them at. They’re in limbo—and more vulnerable than they’ll be in a week.”
“But their fighters are modern,” Alstairs pointed out. “Only the battleships need to close inside their vulnerable range—and I don’t think that’s the battle we want to fight. We have seventh-gen fighters—and Intel says the Commonwealth still hasn’t deployed one.”
“I don’t disagree, ma’am,” Solace replied. “But I’d suggest we keep Zheng He up front, with the older ships behind her deflectors and those of the other new ships. Gets them into the fray but covers for their weaknesses.”
Zheng He was the Renaissance Trade Factor battleship assigned to Seventh Fleet. Every bit as large and modern a unit as Kyle’s Avalon, she was also far more optimized to take—and deal—direct damage than the carrier was. She had the heaviest deflectors in Seventh Fleet, and putting her out in front would help keep eve
ryone alive.
“Good idea,” Alstairs said sharply. “Thank you, Mira. Still feeling into this myself, remember.” She turned to Kyle. “Well, Roberts? Any fancy tricks or deadly surprises?”
He laughed.
“Despite my reputation, ma’am, I know when those tricks are needed,” he pointed out. “They’re generally all-or-nothing affairs, and that’s a risk we don’t need to take today.” He shrugged. “We have the bigger hammer. Let’s hit them with it.”
“With the older ships in the fleet, though, do we really?” Solace asked softly.
Kyle grinned.
“We might not,” he agreed. “But the Commonwealth sure aren’t going to think so if we head straight for them, are they?”
22:30 February 20, 2736 ESDMT
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
Theoretically, Kyle could command Avalon naked in his shower via his neural implants. Nonetheless, he heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way onto the supercarrier’s bridge, Anderson two steps behind him.
“Status report,” he snapped, glancing around the room to confirm his top crew was on duty. The bridge was a circular room, with screens showing high-level data of the ship’s status surrounding the scattered consoles. Most of the work was done by implant, but it remained easiest to share data visually.
“Flag reports all ships at ready status,” Xue replied crisply. “Our fighters are deployed; Vice Commodore Stanford is launching now and assuming command.”
“And our Terran friends?”
“All eight ships are inbound toward Alizon orbit at two hundred gravities,” the tactical officer informed him. “The Star Guard blew two Q-probes getting in close for IDs. They have them as two Volcano-class carriers, two Saint-class battleships, three older Assassin-class battlecruisers and a Lexington-class strike carrier.” Each ship flashed both on the screen and in the tactical plot in Kyle’s neural feed as she spoke. “They are holding back nine squadrons—ninety starfighters, looks like the Assassins’ groups—and have launched the rest as a forward strike.”
Battle Group Avalon (Castle Federation Book 3) Page 2
