Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  Saracasi grimaced slightly—not at Fracsid’s stumbling, but at the confusing nature of it all. With the promotion Zeric had given her, things were even more confusing now.

  Trying to recover from his own awkwardness, Fracsid spoke first, his voice more confident than before. “How was your trip?”

  “Far more effective than I expected it would be,” Saracasi answered, stepping away from the ramp.

  Behind her, Sienn’lyn disembarked from the shuttle and, after a quick nod from Saracasi and Jerik, headed for the hangar’s exit. Earlier, Zeric had requested that Sienn’lyn remain with him and Gu’od, and knowing how useful a combat-capable Ni’jar would be, Saracasi had been prepared to allow it. To her surprise, however, both Sienn’lyn and Gu’od had protested, citing something about how Sienn’lyn’s Focus was to fly.

  Once Sienn’lyn was away, Saracasi allowed Jerik and Fracsid to lead her off the hangar. The once-cavernous cargo containers of the converted mining ship now felt small and crowded. Split in half, with another deck below them used for launch and retrieval of fighter craft, the hangar was crowded with fighters and supplies. The shuttle she had arrived on still rested on the elevator, there being no room to move it anywhere else. One corner of the deck lay hidden behind a temporary screen, making the room feel even smaller. Sounds of machinework rang across the metal floor and walls, making conversation difficult, if not impossible.

  As they walked the corridors of the ship to the officer quarters, Saracasi filled the others in on her adventure on Sulas. “We were able to find General Dustlighter and bring him back with us. So the command issue has been solved. Congress won’t see any need to find a replacement now.”

  “That’s good news. Though I’m surprised the general agreed to be taken out of a combat zone. He always struck me as someone who likes to lead from the front,” Jerik said.

  Saracasi smiled at that. She knew Zeric well enough to know he had a strong self-preservation instinct. Not to say that he was a coward—far from it—but given the opportunity to get away from people shooting at him, he had taken it. She was glad others appeared unaware of that character trait.

  “General Kil’dare is still there and a Sulas native,” Saracasi answered. “General Dustlighter understood that his responsibility lay here.”

  “Did he agree to your plan, then?” Fracsid asked.

  “More or less,” Saracasi said. “He’s promoted me to commander and made me acting commodore of all naval forces. We’ll begin the space portion of the plan immediately. Ground deployment may follow once Zeric feels confident in the readiness of the remaining troops and once we have more troop transports.”

  “All fighters stand ready,” Jerik said confidently. “We’ve been conducting combat drills since your departure. They were raw, but the fight over Kol toughened them up. Now they’re ready to fight.”

  “Good, we’re going to need them,” Saracasi replied. “How is La’ari’s special project coming?”

  “She’s almost ready,” Fracsid answered. “There’s not much more she can do until the cutters are ready.”

  “Good,” Jerik grumbled. “That mess is taking up almost a third of the hangar space. We’ve had to leave half the fighters in the launch bay.”

  The trio arrived at Saracasi’s quarters, and she led them inside. She removed the civilian jacket she had been wearing since Sulas and went to pull a fresh uniform out of her closet. Unconcerned with the presence of the two men, Saracasi began changing. Since the humiliating experience of being stripped naked while at Olan prison, she found nudity didn’t really bother her.

  “Any reports from the other worlds?” Saracasi asked while stripping off her civilian clothes.

  For his part, Fracsid tried to look embarrassed and stared at the wall. “I sent gunships on scouting missions to Enro and Dantyne, both worlds we’ve previously lost contact with. There are Alliance task forces in the orbits of both worlds, just like we suspected. We can assume reinforcements were on the ground, but neither scout was able to get close enough for a detailed scan.”

  “How many ships?” Saracasi asked.

  “At least three each,” Fracsid answered. “They weren’t able to do a full orbit, so we can expect more on the opposite side of the planet. Both had an escort carrier and a corvette.”

  “So, no heavy guns spotted,” Saracasi said, referring to cruisers, frigates, and battle carriers.

  “Not that we saw,” Fracsid said. “Mr. Aerinstar feels Admiral Sartori will keep her main forces over Ailleroc and Sulas until she’s ready to move on Cardine or Kol.”

  “What’s his assessment of the Alliance’s total forces?” Saracasi asked, slipping into her uniform coveralls and relieving Fracsid of the need to look away.

  “He estimates that the Alliance has no more than fifty capital ships in the sector. Most come from the 4th Fleet, with a minimum of six having traveled with the MEF that arrived. Those would mostly be heavies—cruisers, at least one battle carrier, and frigates. Plus, of course, the local defense cutters from Sulas and Ailleroc, which he didn’t include in his estimate.

  “The good news is that, out of that potential fifty, we’ve already destroyed one cruiser and one escort carrier, stolen one corvette, and damaged two corvettes and one cruiser. The cruiser we damaged over Ailleroc was months ago, though, so we can expect her to be operational again.”

  Saracasi paused from pulling on her boots to look up. “That’s twelve percent of her potential forces damaged and six percent completely lost.”

  She had always viewed the Alliance fleet as gargantuan. Which, if put together, it was. The entire Alliance navy consisted of several hundred warships. But those were spread out across eight sectors of space. Most were kept close to the main worlds or the systems that bordered the Dotran Confederacy and the Camari Republic.

  “Or more,” Fracsid said. “Fifty was his upper estimate.”

  “That’s just the capital ships, though,” Jerik said, his tone dire. “We’ve barely scratched their complement of star fighters. We took out a squadron over Kol and estimates from the Battle of Sulas put the Alliance fighter losses between one and two squadrons. But with two battle carriers and several escort carriers, the Alliance has at least ten more. And that’s just the mobile ones. Ailleroc and Sulas both have several defense squadrons.”

  Fracsid frowned at Jerik. “Don’t be so negative.”

  “I’m just being practical,” Jerik replied. “We have two aboard the DeeGee. Chavatwor has managed to build, borrow, or piece together another one back on Kol, but their pilots don’t have any experienced staff to train them. Just Lieutenant Ernebee, who’s also managing the planet’s defenses and Audacious.”

  “One problem at a time,” Saracasi said. “We need to focus on pushing the Alliance back and reopening access to Enro and Dantyne’s resources and people. Above all, we need to show the Alliance they can’t take our worlds without a fight.”

  Standing up, Saracasi grabbed the jacket she had worn aboard. She pulled a small case out of the pocket. Inside, she revealed two ranks emblems. Instead of the two triangles pointed at a central pip, like Fracsid wore and like had been on her uniform, the emblem had a second set of triangles. These were vertical but also pointed at the central pip, forming a complete cluster.

  She had debated whether it was proper to wear the rank emblem of a commodore, since her position was technically temporary, but Zeric had assured her that a brevet position carried the full authority and responsibility of the rank. It would be proper to wear the emblems.

  Removing the major emblems from her collars, she tossed them to Jerik before pinning the commodore emblems in their place. “Congratulations, Major Needa. You’re the new commander of the Defiant Glory. I recommend Sienn’lyn for a promotion as CAG.”

  Looking surprised at the sudden promotion, probably given their history, Jerik took a moment before nodding. “She’s our best pilot. Not much leadership experience, but, then, none of the others have much, eithe
r.”

  “It’s your call,” Saracasi forced herself to say. She had made this decision out of necessity, but now that it was made, she had to trust Jerik to do the job she was giving him.

  Jerik just nodded, and she continued, “Signal the captains of the cutters that I’d like to meet with them later today. I need to inform them of the change in orders and get them ready. Have Lieutenant Coramont join me as well.

  “Major Relis, Cutty Sark is yours again. She’s on the surface of Irod under Almes’s watchful eye,” Saracasi said, unable to keep the complete disgust out of her voice as she mentioned Almes. “Prepare one ship from your squadron to escort General Dustlighter to Cardine. They’ll also be delivering orders to the cutters there.”

  “Aye, Commodore,” Jerik and Fracsid both replied once she made it clear that the meeting was over.

  The two men left the room, and Saracasi took a calming breath. She had gotten her wish and was now in charge of the navy. Zeric had been more than happy to hand responsibility for dealing with the Alliance over to her for the time being.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The rank emblems on her collar suddenly looked huge. For the first time in a while, she thought about how young she was—not yet thirty. For the last several years, she had been a smuggler aboard a small freighter. Before that, she had failed to complete her university studies. What right did she have to command even a team of engineers, much less an entire navy?

  Regardless of the insanity of the idea, she now had to face that responsibility.

  Chapter Eight

  Solyss waited impatiently at the command station on the Gallant’s bridge. The timer on the hyperspace clock ticked down at an alarmingly fast pace. When it reached zero, the battle would begin.

  Even though this wouldn’t be the first time he had been in a battle aboard Gallant, it would be the first time since the upgrades and the first time for the crew. And it would also be the first time they’d engaged an arguably superior enemy. The brief battle over Sulas had been corvette vs. corvette—two ships inept at fighting other capital ships. Now, he would be engaging a frigate—a warship specifically designed to kill ships like Gallant.

  As he watched the timer, Solyss couldn’t help but look down at the tactical display. A tiny fleck of something dark brown on the glass had caught his attention the moment he had given the order to engage the hyperdrive. His sense of propriety had kept him from rubbing at the fleck to see what it was, but his imagination had no doubt.

  When he had stormed aboard this ship and taken it from the Alliance, her former captain had been standing right where he was now. And he had shot the man. He felt no guilt over the action. It was war, after all, and the captain was the enemy. But he couldn’t help but think that small brown fleck had once been a drop of the former captain’s blood. Was his noticing it now a sign of something?

  Trying to shake the feeling, Solyss instead berated himself for his loss of attention. He was a major in the Union navy, commander of this ship, and a member of the legendary Novastar family. Of course he would survive this mission.

  His only mistake had been not making a micro-jump from their reconnaissance position in the system. He hated micro-jumps, thinking them hard on personnel and equipment. So, instead, he had opted to jump five minutes out from the planet of Okaral, and then jump back in, giving the ship and crew time to recover from the effects of hyperspace.

  Fortunately, the timer reached zero, and he had no more time to dwell on the brown fleck or anything else. He stood up a little straighter, trying to force as much confidence into his demeanor as possible. The crew needed to know he knew this plan would work.

  “XO,” Solyss said, keeping his voice level, “launch Operation Mirage.”

  From her station, Tess nodded and began issuing orders. Solyss trusted her to do her job. He had to prepare himself for his next part.

  As expected, the operations officer, Chief Operations Specialist Celay Dar’su, announced they were being hailed after less than a minute. Solyss listened as the Liw’kel told the Alliance frigate and space station that they were also an Alliance warship, here on a special mission.

  Also as expected, her message failed to completely persuade them. Fortunately, between them actually having once been an Alliance corvette and Dar’su’s faking of a valid identification code, the frigate didn’t immediately blow them out of the sky. Instead, they requested to speak to the ship’s commander.

  Solyss keyed the comm switch at his terminal, activating his headset. “This is Gallant Actual. Go ahead, Tornado.”

  The sound coming into his ear was crystal clear, perfectly relaying the gruff voice of the frigate’s commander. “Captain, I have no record of your mission or orders to expect you. What are you doing here?”

  “Special operations assignment, Captain,” Solyss replied, trying to sound like just another Alliance naval officer. “We’re here to retrieve one of your prisoners. I cannot reveal any more details than that.”

  “Spec Ops, eh? That would explain some of the irregularities our sensors are showing. Our data lists the Gallant as an ordinary corvette on guard duty in Kreogh Sector. But you’re clearly not a standard configuration.”

  Solyss genuinely smiled at that. “No, we’re most definitely not your regular corvette.”

  On the tactical display, Solyss saw the icon representing their cargo shuttle move away from the Gallant and head toward the space station. They had dropped out of hyperspace close to the station, and the transit would take only a few minutes. The frigate had begun moving on an intercept course for them.

  “Now, Captain, it has been a long journey and we have another equally long one ahead of us. If you could see to having the prisoner brought up to the station quickly to meet my shuttle, I would be in your debt,” Solyss said.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Captain,” the frigate commander said. “But we’re still waiting to receive your official orders. Until we can verify their authenticity, we can’t let your shuttle dock or make any prisoner transfers.”

  “Of course,” Solyss said. “Transmitting them now.”

  Without the ability to acquire official Alliance orders, this was where their ruse would start to fall apart. Their appearance as an Alliance ship had kept the frigate from firing on them the moment they entered orbit, but appearances weren’t enough. Coded orders and proper identification codes were designed specifically to prevent someone from doing what they were trying to do.

  Fortunately, Solyss hadn’t expected it to work. As he watched the holographic tactical display, the cargo shuttle crossed the PNR—point of no return. That meant the shuttle was too far away to recover before the frigate could engage, but it also meant that the shuttle had gotten close enough to its destination to begin the next phase.

  Turning toward his XO, Solyss said, “Begin Phase Two.”

  At his words, Tess ordered the helm to change course, moving them away from the station at max acceleration. This prompted the frigate to begin accelerating in response. The frigate’s commander began barking at them to change course and return to their previous position.

  As soon as the frigate began accelerating, Solyss switched his comm channel over to another frequency. “Isaxo, you’re go.”

  The icon representing the cargo shuttle expanded as Isaxo and his three other fighters broke away from the shuttle’s sensor shadow and began accelerating toward the frigate. Solyss allowed himself to smile as he imagined what the frigate’s commander must be thinking. One moment, there had been a clunky cargo shuttle—the next, there were four rapidly approaching fighters.

  At the same time, the shuttle accelerated toward the station. It had required precise timing, but after only another moment, the shuttle was inside the station’s shield perimeter and slamming itself hard against the station’s hull. Solyss then pushed the shuttle out of his mind. The fate of the marines aboard was now in Asheerah’s hands.

  Isaxo’s four fighters accelerated toward the Torn
ado, aiming for the frigate’s vulnerable engines. With luck, they could pull off the same trick Solyss had used against the cruiser over Ailleroc: using the destabilization effect of the engines to penetrate the shields. If they could disable the frigate with a rapid barrage, this mission might be over quickly.

  Unfortunately, the frigate captain appeared to take the approach of armed fighters as a bigger threat than the cruiser captain had. The frigate immediately shut down its main engines. Instead of using a continuous burn, they fired in short, high-energy bursts. This slowed their acceleration significantly, but it also stabilized the aft shields.

  Had Solyss been attempting to flee, this would have allowed him to get away. But his goal was not to get away from the frigate, but merely to draw him far enough away from the station that the station’s guns would not be a threat. As the frigate slowed and started to turn back toward the fighters, Solyss saw they hadn’t quite achieved that goal.

  “Helm, reverse thrust. Keep us in weapons range of the frigate. Tactical, prepare a barrage of fire at bearing three three mark two one nine. Full spread. Stand by for my order,” Solyss ordered. He watched the sensor display for a moment. “Fire.”

  The frigate started to turn, angling itself along a new heading. As it did so, Isaxo’s squadron flashed across it and zoomed past. With no more enemies behind it, the frigate accelerated again, following the fighters, and ran right into the barrage of fire from all four of the Gallant’s main neutron blaster cannons.

  Though not as well armed as the frigate, the Gallant had four neutron blaster cannons instead of the standard two. They had removed her primary MKPD (mass kinetic point defense) flak turrets. Those weapons were deadly efficient at destroying small fighter craft, but ineffective against capital ships. Their ammo also took up a lot of space aboard.

  In order to make room for more supplies and the marine contingent Asheerah was currently using to board the space station, they had removed those guns. In their place, two more neutron blaster cannons had been installed, doubling her effective power. Despite being able to tell that the Gallant had been modified, the frigate’s commander had evidently missed the firepower upgrade. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so focused on the fighters.