by Wayne Basta
Teev gave a small chuckle. “That we don’t.”
Taking in a deep breath, Zeric prepared for the unpleasant part of the conversation—the entire reason Lei-mey had suggested this plan, and the reason he had come to Cardine in the first place.
“Now, the other benefit of a prolonged stand-off is that it frees up a lot of your forces,” Zeric began. “You can maintain a strong defensive perimeter with less total strength than you would need for a frontal assault. That would allow you to dispatch forces with me to join the fight on other worlds in the sector.”
Teev frowned at that last comment, a look of disappointment on his face. The subtle accusation stung Zeric, but he had come this far. He pushed forward. “I know how that sounds, a Terran coming here with a pushy delegate from Sulas asking for more troops. But the truth is, the rest of the sector needs Cardine’s help. Kol is the only planet in a similar defensive position as Cardine, and that’s thanks to the navy. Dantyne, Sulas, and Enro are all under invasion already and need help pushing the Alliance back. Ailleroc is under a stranglehold, and we can’t even think about helping them until we push the Alliance back everywhere else, including here.
“But to start, we need to push the Alliance back. Right now, Cardine can do that, but if you’re the only one who does, you’re the next target. If, together, we push the Alliance off the other worlds in the sector along with Cardine, they won’t be able to respond and crush you alone.”
Still looking unconvinced, Teev said nothing. Zeric decided he had only one more card to play. “You have my personal assurance that if the Alliance makes a move on Cardine, I’ll lead whatever troops I can back here as fast as I possibly can. This isn’t an empty promise of a politician, but from me to you. One military officer to another.”
Teev’s eyestalks rose up in a look of surprise. Lei-mey had told Zeric not to make any kind of promises, and for good reason. He knew perfectly well that if the Alliance made a move on Cardine, he wouldn’t likely be in a position to help. But he would still try.
Finally, Teev nodded. “Coming from a politician, I would take that as an empty platitude, but even if those reinforcements just end up being you, I actually believe you’ll do it. Very well, I’ll detach a regiment with you. I believe they’ll be put to good use in ensuring the freedom of our fellow Union worlds.”
Zeric shook Teev’s outstretched hand, giving him a grim smile. Even though he had gotten what he wanted—what he needed—he still couldn’t shake a dirty feeling inside.
Katerina didn’t often feel like yelling. Especially at her staff, many of whom had been with her for a number of years. But sometimes the news delivered was so infuriating that you still wanted to blame the messenger because they were the one telling you about it.
Controlling herself, Katerina said, “Please repeat that, Major.”
“Taskforce 413 has returned from Dantyne after fleeing a rebel attack force,” Major Anderson replied in an emotionless tone. “Commander Maritski reports that they were outnumbered by rebel forces and that the fleet contained the FX-21. They report one lost frigate, with Commodore Dolan aboard, presumed captured by the rebels.”
Unfortunately, the news hadn’t changed on the second telling. It rarely did. What she had originally assumed to be a poorly organized band of opportunist rebels had now managed to capture or destroy four of her warships. Granted, in comparison to the last war, those were light losses. But then she’d been fighting a well-trained and well-equipped military of equivalent power.
“Commander Maritski says she departed in order to gather additional forces before returning to Dantyne,” Anderson added.
Katerina scoffed. “I’m sure. Tell the commander to prepare a full report on the battle over Dantyne. Let her know I want her to present it to me personally.” That would help her decide if this recent loss was due to incompetence, cowardice, or just bad luck. She wanted to believe in the latter. One of her Braz peers would have probably called it cosmic balance for her overwhelming victory in ambushing the rebels over Sulas.
“Something else, Major?” Katerina asked when Anderson didn’t immediately depart.
“Yes, Admiral. I hesitate to mention it since it’s an unconfirmed report,” Anderson said, “but the preliminary indications are that the rebels were led by a Commodore Ocaitchi.”
Katerina considered the information. “You believe this is the same Ocaitchi who led the defense of Kol? Maarkean’s sister?”
“It would make sense, Admiral.”
“I thought our operative’s report described her as an idealist engineer with no will to fight?” Katerina asked.
Anderson nodded. “It did. Though he did make clear he had only had limited contact with her up until that point.”
“And nothing from him recently?” Katerina asked. “It was his plan to reinsert himself with the rebels by releasing that freighter. Now it’s already cost me a frigate and Commodore Dolan.”
“No recent updates. Though if he was identified, it might be some time before we learned of it. He could also be with this assault fleet and unable to break cover,” Anderson theorized.
“Possibly,” Katerina said quietly. “But we can’t keep waiting on his report. Dispatch a recon ship to Kol. Confirm that the FX-21 has indeed departed the system. Then dispatch a message to Taffy 422—order them to depart Mirthod.”
“Long range recon or active scan?” Anderson asked.
With the openness of space, it was possible to appear anywhere in a star system and through a long-range, passive scan, observe a planet using telescopes and other passive sensors, keeping yourself out of danger. This means of intelligence gathering was limited, however. Identifying an object as small as a ship from millions of kilometers away while it was backdropped by a bright planet could be difficult. It was also incredibly easy to fool this type of surveillance with decoys or simply keeping vital items inside another structure, such as the ground or the orbital shipyard they knew the rebels had at Kol. Confirming the readings of a passive scan required getting close and using an active sensor scan.
“Active scan,” Katerina decided. “But have them scan and depart only. I want that gunship coming back in one piece.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Anderson said and started for the door.
“Also,” Katerina added, stopping Anderson, “I think it’s time I had a chat with our resident rebel. Major Ocaitchi has been sitting in a cell giving us nothing useful for long enough. But he will be our best source of information on his sister, since it appears our operative’s assessment of her as ‘unwilling to fight’ isn’t exactly accurate.”
“You want to speak to him yourself?” Anderson asked, unable to keep his incredulity out of his voice.
Katerina nodded. “Yes. I need to get to know my enemy. I’ve been striking at them from the dark for long enough.”
If an untrained engineer who had been marked as a non-combatant could defeat her former adjutant, then these rebels were a much greater threat than she had previously judged. She would need to start taking a completely new approach.
“Sensors reading one Alliance escort carrier, one corvette, and two gunships,” Tadashio reported. “No fighters are currently deployed.”
The news surprised Saracasi. They had delayed longer at Dantyne than she had wanted, so she had expected to find Mirthod heavily reinforced. Instead, she faced a task force smaller than her own, even discounting the decoy Audacious. The addition of the captured Alliance frigate, Hurricane, and the return of Eri’dos with his Durandall II and four cutters had boosted their strength significantly.
“Plot an intercept course,” Saracasi ordered.
The trajectory of the Alliance ships would take them out of Mirthod’s gravity well. By the look of it, she had arrived just as they were departing. At least, that’s how it looked.
She tried to figure out how their course could be used as a trap for her fleet. With the Alliance ships moving away from Mirthod, any other ships hiding around the curve o
f the planet would have a long journey to come around as reinforcements. Mirthod itself had no planetary defense weapons. Even if the Alliance had installed any, she could easily keep her ships out of effective range.
Though she hated to admit it, it looked like they just got lucky. A small Alliance fleet caught alone, fleeing before a superior force.
That the phrase “superior force” could describe her collection of banged-up, refitted, and overused ships almost made her laugh.
The fleet altered its trajectory along a vector that would intercept the four Alliance ships just before they were at a safe jump distance. It wasn’t likely that they could do enough damage to the ships to prevent them from escaping, but she didn’t feel like letting them go without a show.
As they moved closer, Saracasi allowed herself to finally feel some relief. They would likely avoid a full battle yet would still be able to claim that they had chased the Alliance away from Mirthod. A public relationships victory was still a victory.
With the damage the fleet had taken at Dantyne, the engineer in her had wanted to turn back for Kol and make repairs. La’ari had actually been fairly insistent on that point. Chimopori needed structural repairs that required a shipyard. Their captured frigate was not capable of combat maneuvers, and half the weapon systems were offline.
Defiant Glory had been spared too much damage, and all of her fighters could be repaired en route. That fact had convinced the warrior in her to press forward. The only thing the Union fleet had on its side was surprise. She had to keep pressing the attack before the Alliance figured out her ruse and sent a powerful enough force to stop them.
Without warning, the lights on the bridge suddenly started flickering. The tactical holodisplay winked out, as did several consoles around the bridge and CIC. She exchanged a look with Jerik and Kaars beside her. Power issues on a warship were never a good sign.
After a few seconds, everything came back on. Before the replacement of the power reactor on Defiant Glory, small power issues had been common, especially when she was powered up for combat. But since the upgrade, they hadn’t experienced any such problems.
If her flagship was experiencing trouble and had been the least damaged ship in the previous battle, what could the other ships be experiencing? Reluctantly, Saracasi came to the conclusion that she needed to find out.
“All ships, reduce speed. The Alliance is running. We’ll follow them out, but if they want to flee at the sight of us, I say let them,” Saracasi said after activating the fleet-wide comm. She hoped that playing it up as being merciful to a cowardly Alliance wouldn’t affect morale negatively.
She then sent a less public request for ship status updates to all captains. Several minutes later, updates came in. Everything appeared to be standard. The frigate, Hurricane, had the most issues, but all were known and unrepaired battle damage. The gunships and cutters all reported full status. Defiant Glory had been the only ship to experience any unexpected problems.
“Captain,” Saracasi said turning to Jerik, “do you have a report on that power issue?”
Jerik nodded. “We suffered a low-grade power spike. La’ari is still trying to ascertain why, though. In addition to the lights flickering and console trouble, our comm unit surged and the navigational computer temporarily went offline before rebooting. No major systems were affected. Defiant Glory is still combat capable.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Saracasi said. Though the news sounded positive, even secondary systems didn’t break for no reason. Plus, she recalled their escape from Sulas. They almost hadn’t made it to safety due to the original programmers’ designation of the hyperdrive as a secondary system that wasn’t checked on a standard diagnostic.
The Alliance task force had gained ground. With her order to slow down, her fleet would no longer intercept before the Alliance ships could jump to hyperspace. Had her caution just cost them an easy victory?
Before she could start to relax or drive herself crazy overthinking her decisions, a priority message came in from the faux-Audacious Phantom group. Sheanna’s voice came through her earpiece. “Commodore, we’ve been intercepted by a civilian mining scout. They managed to get close enough to get a close look at my ships. I estimate high probability his sensor data is accurate enough to see through our ruse. We’re currently jamming his comm system, but he’ll be out of range shortly. Our tractor beams cannot operate while linked together and the ship will be outside of weapon and jamming range in six minutes from your receipt of this message. Your orders?”
Saracasi cursed to herself. The worse of all possible scenarios had occurred. Sheanna could not communicate with the civilian ship without dropping the jamming system. If he did, and the ship proved to be loyal to the Alliance, the civilian would have time to transmit a distress signal, including sensor data, to the fleeing Alliance task force.
Faux-Audacious and the civilian were four light-minutes away. The Alliance fleet was still twelve minutes from jumping away—plenty of time for them to receive a signal. If the Alliance learned of her ruse with the cutters, her main tactical advantage would be gone. She could either let the civilian go and risk that, or destroy him to preserve her secret.
The time on the clock ticked down at an unnaturally rapid pace. Her order to Sheanna would take four minutes to arrive. They had less than two minutes for her to decide and for him to take action.
“Disable that ship if you can. Destroy it if you must,” Saracasi finally said in a rush into her comm.
A twist of guilt stabbed at her insides the moment the words were out. She almost rescinded the order, but she knew she had made the right call. Her duty was to protect the people under her and to beat the Alliance. This was one of those tough calls a leader had to make. Her brother would do the same. Wouldn’t he?
The next ten minutes passed at an agonizing crawl. Her fleet and the Alliance task force got closer together. No transmission came from Sheanna, and the Alliance gave no indication of having received one themselves. When they reached the edge of the gravity well, they jumped away.
Finally, fourteen minutes after she had received the first message, a follow-up came in from Sheanna. “The civilian ship has been destroyed, Commodore. We attempted to disable, but he went evasive, reducing the accuracy of our weapons fire. SAR operations are now in effect, but no emergency beacons have been detected. No transmissions were made from him before the destruction.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Saracasi felt her shoulders loosen. It had been a horrible call to make, but the safety of her fleet had been preserved. She put the incident behind her and ordered the fleet to stand down. They could afford to spend a few hours showing the flag over Mirthod and making a few more repairs.
Chapter Thirteen
Maarkean had never thought he could miss light. Their Alliance captors had taken to a new form of torture the last few days: three days of non-stop bright lights, followed by three days of complete darkness.
At first, the darkness had felt like a blessed relief from the lights, but that hadn’t lasted long. Ronids had excellent night vision, but unfortunately for Maarkean, Braz required at least a little light to see.
The only bright spot—he enjoyed thinking of it that way, since the pun amused him—in the whole ordeal of imprisonment had been Lohcja. Despite the adventures they’d shared, he had never considered himself all that close to the man before, at least not like Zeric or Lahkaba. Maybe the Alliance bigotry against other alien species was more ingrained in him than he had thought.
Whatever subtle revulsion he might have had toward Ronids, he felt sure it was gone now. Having Lohcja here had kept him stable. He had no idea how he would have coped for so long alone, especially after getting so close to escape, only to be defeated and recaptured. Plus, the added guilt over Merski’s death weighed on him.
“Kaars. Kill. Betrayed.” Lohcja’s mumbling caught Maarkean’s attention.
Many nights, Maarkean awoke to hear his friend mumbling something similar. The s
ounds of Lohcja expressing the desire to kill in his dreams unsettled him, though he could hardly blame him. As Lohcja had explained early in their captivity, Kaars Aerinstar had betrayed them.
Maarkean didn’t fully understand the nature of their relationship, but he knew the two men had been friends. The betrayal had unsettled Lohcja severely, and the time in captivity and torture had done nothing to stymie his growing hatred.
“LJ,” Maarkean said, and then repeated the nickname a few times. He had learned the hard way not to touch the Ronid when he was dreaming.
“Hmm… I’m awake… what?” Lohcja said groggily. “Is it morning already?”
“I think it’s actually yesterday,” Maarkean joked.
“That’s not very damn funny.”
Before the two could continue their banter, bright light flared, blinding Maarkean. He automatically shut his eyes, but he could already feel the pain from the sudden light. Grimacing through the pain, he tried to open them again, but could only see a bright glow that still stung. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to listen.
The sounds of voices and boot steps on the metal deck could be heard. The voices were muffled at first, but one rose above the others. “Explain to me, Specialist, how two of your prisoners have gotten into this condition?”
“Injuries sustained when they were captured. Ma’am,” an uneasy voice replied. It took Maarkean a moment, given the drastically different tone, but he soon identified the speaker as one of the Alliance crew in charge of the brig.
“Really? Injuries sustained months ago have been left untreated for all that time?” the first voice asked. The tone was clear and commanding, making Maarkean suspect a high-ranking officer.
“No, ma’am, of course not. They’ve been well tended to, per the LT’s orders,” the brig crewman replied.
