A band – borrowed from the station as Avalon’s crew hadn’t assembled the traditionally volunteer ship’s band yet – played the brassy tunes of the Federation’s Call to Arms, the battle hymn recognized as the anthem of the Federation’s military.
Then a tall red-haired woman in a prim black business suit stepped crisply onto the dais, carrying a single sheet of parchment.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, I am Moira Anderson, Station Manager of Merlin Four,” she said calmly. “It is my honor and my privilege to deliver deep space carrier number seventy-eight into the hands of the Castle Federation Space Navy.”
For all that everyone knew her name, and they’d even cast her seal and mounted it in Kyle’s office, Avalon was technically still only a hull. At this moment, she remained DSC-078, nothing more.
Admiral Blake saluted the Station Manager and took the sheet of parchment, officially taking possession of the carrier that hung outside the window, a sharp-edged presence with only minimal lights, ominous in the dark.
“Thank you, Miss Anderson,” Blake said calmly and turned to face the cameras. “Naming a ship is always a challenge,” she told the reporters. “Some ships are given new names as freshly forged defenders of our great nation. Others… others inherit names that carry history and legends.
“DSC-078 is our newest and most powerful carrier, a shield that will guard our worlds in these dark times. She is also the first carrier commissioned since this new war began, and it seems fitting that she bear the same name as the very first carrier Castle ever commissioned.
“Senator O’Connell, if you would do the honors please,” Blake told the petite Senator with the flaming red hair.
The Senator bowed crisply and stepped forward. A control panel sat at the edge of the platform, linked to the pneumatic cannon outside the window – the cannon aimed directly at the carrier.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the media, officers and crew of the Castle Federation Armed Forces, my fellow Senators,” the little woman said brightly. “I give you the Castle Federation’s newest legend, reborn from the fires of the Battle of Tranquility to fight for us once more.
“I hereby christen this vessel Avalon.” O’Connell hit the control, and the pneumatic cannon fired. A cask of champagne – traditionally exactly sixty liters – shot into space and smashed itself on the flat prow of the carrier.
In response to that signal, the ship’s AI triggered the routine Kyle had carefully programmed before he left the ship. Starting from the point of impact, Avalon’s running lights came fully online, rippling out in a growing sequence of lights that lit up every corner and edge of the ship.
Finally, the cloth that covered her name, invisible against the carrier’s hull, was pulled away by a dockyard tug, revealing the ten meter high letters that spelled out her hull number and name on each of her four broadsides.
Blake allowed a few moments to pass for the media to get proper shots of the new carrier, then stepped back onto the platform.
“Captain Kyle Roberts, as per your orders and assignment, I hereby deliver to you DSC-078 Avalon. May you command her with honor for the glory of the Castle Federation.”
Kyle stepped onto the platform and took that fragile sheet of parchment – Avalon’s own commissioning orders – and bowed over them.
“I hereby assume command of DSC-078 Avalon,” he said calmly.
Blake took his hand, shaking it firmly as the band begin to play again.
“Good luck, son,” she murmured. “Stars above know you’re going to need it.”
#
Despite the fact that they were at war, Kyle had been unable to convince anyone not to follow up the commissioning ceremony with a reception for the politicians and reporters. A party was all well and good in his books, but reporters were like a bucket of cold water in his opinion.
Thankfully, he’d collided with the Coraline Imperium’s ambassador at the buffet table, who turned out to be an ex-fighter pilot. The Ambassador had gleefully taken advantage of his exalted rank to monopolize Kyle’s time for at least half an hour, discussing the comparative virtues of the Federation and the Imperium’s seventh-generation fighters – the Federation’s Falcon, an ECM-heavy craft, versus the Imperium Arrow which was primarily a missile platform.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t checked the area around well enough before bidding the Ambassador farewell, and had barely made it ten steps towards the bathroom when the vultures stooped.
“Captain Roberts!” a reporter he didn’t recognized said loudly. “Can you spare a moment to speak to our viewers?”
Kyle sighed, and turned to face the man. The speaker wore a badge identifying him as being from ‘Federation Instant News’, and looked the part of the steady anchor – muscular build, perfect hair, and a perfectly symmetrical face. Kyle couldn’t help wondering how much of the man’s appearance was natural versus surgery.
“Yes, Mister…?”
“I’m Brad Torrent, of FIN,” the reporter said swiftly. A camera rose above the man’s shoulder on a prehensile telescoping mount. “Please, Captain Roberts – what do you think of the new Avalon?”
“She’s an incredible ship, a testament to her builders,” Kyle said carefully.
“A perfect weapon to strike back at the Commonwealth, no?” Torrent asked. Kyle nodded slowly, hoping not to have let himself in for too much trouble. “Yet we sit on the defensive!” the reporter exclaimed. “Captain Roberts, the people want to know what the Stellar Fox thinks of the Senate’s lack of action!”
For a long moment, Kyle wished breaking the man’s arm and telescoping camera – in about that order – was an option as he glared at the man.
“Firstly, Mister Torrent, I have no enthusiasm for sensationalist nicknames,” he said coldly. “If you’re going to hang a damn stupid moniker on me, I’d prefer one that didn’t link me to a man whose own government forced him to commit suicide!”
From the reporter’s taken-aback expression, he didn’t know the source of Kyle’s nickname in the press. If he hadn’t already been into negative points in the Captain’s books, he’d have been sliding downhill.
“Secondly, as a Captain in the Castle Federation Space Navy, it is not my place to criticize or praise the Senate,” he said firmly. “My duty is to follow their orders and complete the missions laid out in pursuit of their goals.
“Thirdly, Mister Torrent, the Reserve is in the process of being recommissioned. Between us and the rest of the Alliance, that’s eighty more capital ships to enter our line of battle in the coming months. That boost to our forces will dramatically increase our strategic and operational options.”
He’d moved forward into Torrent’s personal space as he spoke. The reporter wasn’t a small man, but Kyle was a very large one. The camera on its prehensile mount twisted backwards to keep Kyle’s face in view, even as Torrent took an involuntary step backwards.
“In the end, your viewers should be reassured that the Senate does not rush to sacrifice the lives of their brothers and sisters solely to be seen to be doing something,” he finished. “Smarter men and women than you and I are drafting the Alliance’s war plans. I suggest you have faith.”
He waited for a long moment to see if Torrent had more to say, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. He made it perhaps three or four meters before he was interrupted by a sardonic slow clap, and turned to see the stocky form of Vice Admiral Dimitri Tobin.
“Vice Admiral,” he greeted his soon-to-be-commander with a slight bow.
“I’m impressed, Captain,” the Admiral told Kyle. He was one of a very few men who could meet Kyle at eye level and he was, if anything, broader than the massive Captain. “Not many could turn Torrent’s little ambush around like that. Well done.”
Kyle nodded carefully, swallowing down the last vestiges of his adrenaline spike as he took in his new CO and the willowy blond woman walking next to him.
“I hate that nickname,” he finally admitted, and Tobin laughed.
“Indeed,” she murmured, bright blue eyes holding Kyle’s for a moment. Those eyes were warm, caring – but he also felt like he’d just been appraised and measured thoroughly. “I need to grab some more food, I’ll leave you gentlemen to it.”
With a kiss firmly planted on her husband’s bearded cheek, Sasha disappeared into the crowd. Tobin nodded towards the windows looking out over Avalon and led the way over.
“Sasha knows when to leave us officers to business,” the Vice Admiral said softly, glancing after his wife. “You have no escort tonight?”
“I occasionally borrow my son’s mother when it’s made clear a plus one is non-negotiable,” Kyle told his Admiral, “but that’s… an account with limited credit.”
Tobin nodded and let the matter drop. He clearly was at least passingly familiar with complex family situations.
“How were your space trials, Captain?” he asked.
“Smooth as silk, sir,” Kyle told him. “Every metric JD-Ships rated her for, we exceeded. She’s the fastest, nastiest, ship in the Navy, sir. We’ll do you proud.”
“You’re clear to join the Battle Group then?”
“They’d cleared us for full operations prior to the commissioning,” Avalon’s Captain confirmed.
“That’s how it’s supposed to work,” Tobin observed. “But it doesn’t always.”
“My intention is to move to BG Seventeen’s orbit in the morning,” Kyle continued.
“Good,” the Vice Admiral told him. “My staff will contact you then with exact details. Barring something unexpected, though, I should be able to move my flag aboard tomorrow afternoon then.”
Kyle swallowed, surprised.
“I… did not expect to be carrying the flag, sir,” he confessed. “As the junior Captain, I assumed you would fly your flag aboard Cameroon.”
“There are many arguments as to what ship an Admiral should fly his flag from, Captain,” Tobin told him dryly. “The largest. The one with the most starfighters. The one with the most positron lances. For some Admirals, it’s the one with the prettiest junior officers.
“Why an Admiral picks a flagship should always remain a mystery to others though,” he continued with a smile. “I will fly my flag from Avalon, the most impressive the Federation is contributing to BG Seventeen. Unless you have an actual objection, my dear Captain?”
“No, sir,” Kyle told him crisply. Spotting Sasha returning, he gave the Vice Admiral a crisp salute. “I believe I will leave you to your wife,” he told Tobin. “I was heading somewhere specific before our friend Torrent interrupted.”
“Of course, Captain,” Tobin agreed with a wave that approximated a return salute. “I wanted to let you know before the official notice arrived. A courtesy, if you will.”
The two men parted and Kyle waited until he was well clear of the Admiral before pinging Solace’s implant.
“Solace, once we’re back aboard, check in with the Bosun. We’re going to be hosting Vice Admiral Tobin’s flag, and I know no one was focusing on the flag deck.
“Let’s make sure it’s prim and proper before he comes aboard. Let’s not embarrass ourselves.”
“We’re carrying the flag?” she responded. “I expected him to fly from Cameroon.”
“So did I, Commander Solace,” Kyle told her. “But one does not argue with Admirals.”
Chapter 7
Castle System, Castle Federation
18:00 December 15, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Shuttle Three
Dimitri Tobin regarded Alliance Battle Group Seventeen – now also designated Alliance Battle Group Avalon – with an appraising gaze. The immense abbreviated arrowhead of Avalon orbited below and behind the other ships, with the thirteen hundred meter spike of Cameroon the only other vessel of the four to approach her length.
The Trade Factor’s warships had originally been retrofitted merchant ships, and the Magellan-class battleship Zheng He showed that legacy in her design. She was a flattened sphere as wide as she was tall and only slightly longer. Only half a kilometer long, she was still three quarters of Avalon’s volume and packed twice the heavy armaments.
Horus was still missing, but the first Imperial contribution, the strike cruiser Gravitas, had already arrived. The Majesty-class strike cruisers were older ships, but still potent. The Imperium had purchased its original warships, a long time ago, from the Commonwealth and their capital ships were built on the same flattened cigar that had evolved into the Commonwealth’s carriers. Gravitas was a kilometer long and a quarter-kilometer wide, with a wing of eighty starfighters and an armament only slightly heavier than the much larger Avalon’s.
Combined with the Federation battle cruiser Cameroon, which had another forty-eight starfighters and fell between Gravitas and Zheng He in terms of onboard weapons, Battle Group Seventeen was a powerful combat force, fully a third of the true capital ships in the Castle system.
All of that firepower – to be increased once Horus, an even newer Imperial ship, arrived – now answered to one Vice Admiral Dimitri Tobin. It was a sobering thought, and a responsibility he was determined to live up to.
Still wrapped up inside his implant, he considered the people on the shuttle with him. This was only the first load of ‘flag staff’ to come aboard Avalon, and he had fifty people coming with him. With his staff officers, their teams, the flag deck crew and its three shifts and officers to command those shifts, he was bringing over two hundred people aboard Avalon.
Too few of them were his team from Corona. Many of those worthies had died. A lot of others, like Robert Brown, were still in recovery from injuries sustained at Midori.
Most of his new staff and personnel had been put together by his new Chief of Staff based on JD-Personnel recommendations. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Senior Fleet Commander Judy Sanchez, the head of his new team. She’d come highly recommended, but seemed a minor enigma.
This was only her second Staff posting. She’d spent most of her career working as a computer analyst with Navy Intelligence, with the kind of bland performance appraisals he’d have expected from a desk jockey… attached to a rate of promotion he would have expected from an officer in a combat zone. He could only wonder why Kane had sent him an ex-spy.
“Sir,” the blond young woman interrupted his thoughts. “I’m getting traffic on the system defense net. You may want to check in.”
The system defense net? Sanchez wouldn’t have access to that except at the most rudimentary level until they were aboard ship. If she was seeing something via that connection, it was a high level alert.
Closing his eyes, Dimitri logged into the net, and immediately inhaled sharply. The map of the Castle system the defense net fed his implants had a glowing ugly red splotch out near the orbit of the gas giant Gawain – the marker for an unidentified Alcubierre emergence.
“Pilot,” Dimitri linked into the shuttle’s cockpit. “Get in touch with Avalon and let them know you’re going to be coming in hot. I want to be on the deck in five minutes.”
He heard the young man swallow. Junior Lieutenants, however, did not argue with Vice Admirals.
“I’ll make it happen, sir,” he promised.
Dimitri was already focusing his attention back on that red splotch, waiting for the nearby Q-Com equipped probes to let the net know just what had intruded into the Federation’s home system.
The tiny robotic craft were scattered around the perimeter of the system, no more than a light minute or so apart. It took time for light to reach them and be processed and sent back to System Command. More time for System Command to assess the signatures and then update the map.
Then the splotch broke apart, settling into four crimson red icons. Commonwealth capital ships.
18:15 December 15
, 2735 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
There was no time to get his flag staff organized. Dimitri boarded the ship to an appropriate lack of ceremony and charged directly to the bridge.
There, he found Captain Roberts in exactly the right place for the circumstances – directly in the middle of the bridge of his ship, preparing to engage the enemy.
“Give me an update, Captain,” the Vice Admiral snapped. “What does System Command know?”
“Four Terran capital ships,” Roberts replied promptly. “It’s a somewhat unusual split for them – three cruisers and a carrier.”
Dimitri nodded, considered Roberts’ point. The Commonwealth regarded starfighters as a defensive measure, used to keep other people’s starfighters away from the battleships that did the actual destroying. They tended to deploy in pairs of cruisers or sent a carrier to escort a battleship.
“Any idea of their objective?” Dimitri asked. “They dropped out of FTL way too far out to attack Castle itself, and they’re outnumbered over three to one by the forces in-system.”
“System Command is debating, but they’re close to Gawain,” Roberts noted. “That only leaves two real targets.”
“Walkingstick isn’t going for the cloudscoops,” Dimitri said grimly, remembering his briefing from Kane when he’d accepted the command. “He’s going for the Reserve Fleet.”
“Agreed,” his Flag Captain said instantly. “Home Fleet is preparing to move, but…”
“But, what, Captain?” the Vice Admiral demanded.
“I can’t help but remember Puppeteer, sir,” the younger man said calmly. “Walkingstick isn’t above tricking us into pulling ships out of position. The Reserve Flotilla guardships aren’t up to this fight, but…”
Stellar Fox (Castle Federation Book 2) Page 5
