by Wayne Basta
The battle had a long way to go, but Solyss smiled. A Novastar had already won them a small victory.
“They’ve dropped the jamming!” one of the marines shouted to Zeric.
“Try to open a line to General Kil’dare!” Zeric said eagerly. It had been far too long since he had heard anything from the outside world.
Several tense moments went by while the marine tried to establish contact. At any moment, the Alliance might reestablish the jamming, or they might be overrun. Every second spent waiting could be a second too long.
Finally, the marine said, “I have him, sir!”
Zeric grabbed a headset and said eagerly, “Jairyd, what’s the word?”
“The word is good,” Jairyd said excitedly. “The uprisings have begun in every city on the planet. Our troops have taken two gun batteries and every other one that’s in a city is being contested. Drawing all the Alliance’s attention to you worked like a charm.”
“Do any of the guns we control have line of sight on the Alliance fleet in orbit?” Zeric asked.
“Unfortunately not. The nearest city is Ciread, but that’s under heavy fighting. We’re inside the base there, at least,” Jairyd said.
“OK,” Zeric said, thinking. “Your focus is control of those guns—or, at the very least, denying them to the Alliance. Our fleet’s in orbit now, so we have to keep the Alliance from turning them on our people.”
“We’ll do our best. How is your force holding up?” Jairyd asked.
Zeric glanced at the bank of security monitors. Alliance forces had already started advancing along the unshielded ground. “Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“A hole is opening in the Alliance line,” Jerik remarked.
Studying the tactical display, Saracasi frowned. The gunships and Gallant had succeeded in breaking through a line of Alliance corvettes. The main bulk of her fighters were now pushing toward the planet. With Zeric in control of at least some of Chuthor’s planetary defense guns, Sartori had held back the bulk of the Alliance force. Yet something still didn’t feel right.
“All ships, advance. Hold orbital position over Chuthor. All fighters, pull back and reform with the fleet,” Saracasi ordered, seeing no reason to justify delaying the advance.
“Commodore?” Jerik asked. “The general could use support from those fighters.”
“He’ll get them,” Saracasi said. “We’re too spread out right now. We need to get the main fleet closer to support the fighters.”
Almost as if they were trying to prove her point, within minutes of her fleet accelerating, the Alliance ships began to change position. The gunships and frigates accelerated ahead of the slower carriers. They would be within weapons range of her gunships and Gallant several minutes before her main force could rejoin them.
“All ships, launch torpedoes at closing Alliance frigates,” Saracasi ordered.
The fleet only had a handful of the powerful weapons, and she would have preferred to save them for use against the Alliance battle carriers. But if she held back now, she would likely lose Gallant and Fracsid’s gunships. Impatiently, Saracasi watched helplessly as the ships closed, out of ways she could help.
The sounds of battle echoed in through the hallway. Zeric itched to go out there and help keep the Alliance from retaking the base. But he now had communications back, so he had to oversee the larger operation. Ymp could handle things here, if anyone could.
He had shifted his position from the base’s shield control room to the main command center. Some consoles had been damaged in the effort to seize the room, but enough were still functioning to give him some tactical awareness, though he had to rely on relayed reports instead of a linked computer network. It limited his information but made it feel more like a battle and less like a game.
“Alliance fighters are converging overhead,” the marine at the sensor station reported. “It looks like they’ve cut us off from getting fighter support from the fleet.”
“Probably,” Zeric said matter-of-factly. “But that works out well for everyone else. Get me General Kil’dare.”
“Jairyd,” Zeric said when the man appeared on the screen. “It’s time to launch the fighters.”
“So soon?” Jairyd asked.
Zeric nodded. “The Alliance is focused on the battle above. I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of Alliance fighters strafing you?”
“Actually, I hadn’t,” Jairyd said. “Though now that you mention it, I would expect more of them.”
“Those are just the atmospheric craft. The main forces are here, ready to meet the fleet’s wings. You’re in a good position to gain control of the air.”
Jairyd smiled. “Then let’s light ‘em up.”
Zeric waited, fidgeting the entire time, as orders were relayed. After an eternity, reports started to come in. After the first battle above Sulas, all the fighters that hadn’t been destroyed had landed at the captured gun batteries. During the hasty evacuation from those vulnerable positions, Zeric had managed to get most of the craft into hiding, waiting for the right time.
Pacing around the cramped room, Zeric found himself continuing to look toward the door. The sounds of the battle outside had gotten louder. Was Ymp losing? Had Alliance troops breached the walls?
He then noticed the absence of sound. The loud reverberations from their heavy blaster cannon had stopped. The battle outside hadn’t gotten louder—it had just stopped being drowned out.
“Why has the gun stopped firing?” Zeric asked.
“We don’t have any good targets,” Kumus replied after sending a message to the gun control room. “The Alliance warships are either out of our firing arc or too close to our own ships to get a clear shot.”
Zeric considered his options. He could keep the gun powered up and wait for a good shot, or shut it down and restore power to the shield. Preserving the shield would delay the Alliance retaking the base, but he would be unable to help the fleet.
“Tell them to power down,” Zeric reluctantly ordered. “Restore full power to the shield.”
Saracasi would be on her own.
“Hard to port!” Solyss bellowed. “Begin axial rotation.”
The space around Gallant filled with blaster fire from two frigates, which, he had to admit, was the good news. Torpedoes fired from the main fleet had damaged or scattered several of the Alliance warships. The rest had gone after the gunships, leaving him to deal with just two—two more than they could handle without fighter support.
“We just lost number two engine!” Lenanhy, his chief engineer, reported.
Solyss cursed out loud. Their main advantage against the frigate came in the form of faster acceleration and maneuverability—in some ways, it was more important than shields—but engine damage would negate that advantage.
“Tess,” Solyss ordered his XO, “hold fire. I’m going to bring us around close to F3. Prepare for a full barrage when we’re at optimal position.”
She nodded and Solyss turned back to the helm. “Helm, prepare to reverse course. Stand by for maximum burn. Continue rotation.”
Watching the tactical display, Solyss ignored the new damage reports coming in. He had to time this maneuver perfectly. Even then, he didn’t know how well it would work.
He’d done amazing things, like his ancestor had during the Kravic Occupation. Novastars had defied the odds and fought bravely. But he knew the inevitable outcome. His ancestor had fought the Kravic—something few had tried. He had also died doing so.
“Helm, now!” Solyss ordered.
Gallant rotated around to point back toward the pursuing frigates. Her remaining engines fired against her direction of movement, slowing her velocity. They were close enough to Sulas that the planet’s gravity field, which had been trying to pull them down to her surface, started to succeed.
Dropping like a rock, Gallant began falling to a position relatively below the frigates’. Still accelerating, the
frigates attempted to match the maneuver but didn’t have enough time. As they rotated, Tess took the opening.
Firing all of their weapons in sequence, they blasted the ventral aft portion of one of the frigates. While not unprotected, the frigate had weakened her shield in this area to further protect her bow dorsal shields, which had been the only area Gallant had been able to attack before. As the frigates drifted above her, trying to correct their mistake, Gallant unloaded volley after volley.
“We’ve disabled three batteries of weapons and two engines!” Dar’su reported from Ops. “F3 is breaking off.”
Solyss smiled. One enemy down. Glancing at the neglected damage reports, he saw what it had cost. Flashes of red priority reports filled the screen. Multiple hull breeches had occurred, and they had also lost one of their heavy blasters. Their shields had depleted to almost nothing.
“The other frigate is coming back in,” Dar’su warned.
Standing up straighter, Solyss prepared to meet his end like a Novastar.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Not long after Maarkean heard an alert klaxon’s sound, a pair of marines came and hauled him out of the brig. Admiral Sartori’s fleet had apparently run into trouble before he could be released. He just wondered if it was from more Dotran or the Union.
Escorted to Sartori’s command center, Maarkean saw the room as busy as the last time he had been here. The tactical displays were filled with icons and data. People talked into headsets, some almost shouting, and aides rushed in and out of the room.
At the center of it all, Admiral Sartori stood, her body relaxed and her eyes focused on one of the tactical displays. Maarkean strained to see the displays. He could discern the enemy formation making a dive maneuver through the Alliance fleet as it approached Sulas, but he could not tell who the enemy was.
After several minutes, Sartori turned to him. “Ah, Major. We may need to move up the timeline on your cease-fire plans. The rebels have attacked Sulas with their full force.”
The marines allowed Maarkean to move closer to the tactical display. With the greater detail, he started to recognize ship symbols and formations. Beyond the orbiting fleet, a conflict on the surface appeared to be raging as well.
From what he could see, the situation looked bad for the Union fleet. Outnumbered and outgunned, they were now surrounded by the Alliance fleet in an attempt to reach Sulas. It looked like Zeric’s ground forces had control of a few defense batteries, but many of the Alliance troops hadn’t yet been committed to the fight, as they were caught in transit between different locations. Once those troops joined the battle, Union forces would be facing tougher odds.
“How can I help, Admiral?” Maarkean asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Sartori frowned at him. “Order your forces to stand down. Tell them that all those stand down now will be pardoned. Explain the threat of the Confederacy and the need for unity now.”
Maarkean listened to Sartori’s pledge. He felt that it was an extremely generous proposition from a military commander putting down a rebellion. It would allow the Kreogh sector time to prepare for any coming Dotran hostilities. And it would ensure that his sister made it through the conflict alive.
But, he admitted to himself, it didn’t solve anything. Standing down in exchange for a pardon was admitting that the fight had been a mistake. The Union might have been foolish for siding with the Dotran, but he didn’t know the details of that arrangement. And it at least suggested that the Dotran recognized the Union as a sovereign power—something Sartori’s proposal didn’t.
“No,” Maarkean finally said, his voice weak. He spoke again, adding more resolve to his voice. “No.”
“What?” Katerina asked, her tone disbelieving. It had been a long time since anyone had told her “no.”
“My people will not stand down in exchange for a pardon. We will, however, stand down as the first step to a negotiated peace,” Maarkean said.
She looked at her prisoner with incredulity. It had taken a while, but she had felt sure she had succeeded in winning his loyalty back to the Alliance. How had she been wrong? “And why would we accept that?” Katerina asked. “Your forces are going to be crushed. I’d prefer to end this war without more loss of life, but your forces cannot win. You’ve seen the sensor data. You know I’m not exaggerating.”
Maarkean nodded and then smiled. “Admiral, we don’t have to win this battle. All we have to do is continue to bleed your forces and wait for the Dotran to do the rest.
“You’re right, your forces probably will win this battle,” Maarkean continued. “But you’ve already been decimated by the Dotran. And you won’t win this fight without significant losses. You’ll win, but at what cost?
“Once before, you destroyed us, but we came back for more. We’ll do so again. The people on Sulas have risen up in mass for this fight. The Union doesn’t have enough forces to be waging battles in every city on the planet. I suspect you know that. You will have to treat the planet like a conquered world.
“And then, with your fleet decimated and your ground forces suppressing worlds in rebellion, the Dotran will come back. This time, they won’t do so as the ally of the Union, but on their own initiative. They will take control of this sector, and in time, they will have a strong chance of crushing the Alliance.
“So, Admiral, whether we win this battle or not, you’ll lose.” Maarkean fixed his eyes on her as he spoke. She saw steely resolve there for the first time. He genuinely believed what he said.
Was he wrong? As she studied the man, the scars and bruises on his face suddenly came into sharp focus. He had gotten those at the hands of Alliance officers—officers who had sworn to uphold the principles of the Alliance, but who hadn’t.
She turned her gaze away and to her trusted aide. Dolan stood beside her, tall and strong. He had been a prisoner of the rebels for several months, yet no sign of it could be seen on his face. He had returned unblemished and in good health. The rebels had treated their prisoners according to the laws of war, and the Alliance hadn’t.
A long period of silence hung in the air of the operations center. All the staff members had stopped talking during Maarkean’s speech. Their eyes were focused on her. Do they want me to stand down or order them to keep fighting? she wondered. Probably both, she realized. No one had wanted this war, but they would keep fighting as long as she asked them to.
Eventually, Katerina made her decision. She reached down and activated a speaker on the comm. “All Alliance forces, this is Fleet Admiral Sartori. You’re ordered to cease fire and stand down.” She then gestured for Maarkean to speak.
A tremble went through him as he stepped up to the microphone. “All Union forces, this is Major General Maarkean Ocaitchi. Cease fire and stand down. Negotiations are underway with Admiral Sartori for a permanent end of hostilities.”
The battle was not going like any of Saracasi’s previous battles. The Alliance fleet completely outmatched hers. Two of the cutters had already been completely destroyed—one from a spontaneous barrage from a planetary battery that had, fortunately, not repeated itself. Gallant was adrift, half their fighters had already been destroyed, and several gunships were adrift and presumed destroyed. As much concern as she had for Fracsid and Solyss, she couldn’t allow herself to think about them now.
Her two newly captured frigates, hastily repaired over Irod, were of little help. They just had a few weapon systems active and could really only be used as cannon fodder for some of the more vulnerable ships. Much to her chagrin, the only thing that was keeping her force from being overwhelmed was the presence of the Black Market.
She had an odd feeling that this battle would end up much like the last battle over Sulas: with her fleet’s complete destruction. But she kept that thought to herself. The battle wasn’t over yet.
“Hurricane, shift targets to Carrier One,” Saracasi ordered. “Jerik, move us to join them.”
The two ships began to move into a closer formation
with the Black Market, adding their fire together against one of the Alliance’s battle carriers. All around them, other Alliance ships moved to counter them, continuing to bombard all of her ships with waves of blaster fire. Suddenly, the fire started to lessen.
A voice then sounded over a broad-spectrum transmission. “All Union forces, this is Major General Maarkean Ocaitchi. Cease fire and stand down. Negotiations are underway with Admiral Sartori for a permanent end of hostilities.”
Saracasi couldn’t believe her ears when she heard her brother’s voice. It had been months since she had heard anything from him. Now, suddenly, there he was, speaking and apparently alive and well.
She had all but given up hope of ever seeing him again. Guilt stabbed at her for that, but she knew that hope hadn’t been an option. Until this very moment, she had had no idea where he was being held or even if he was alive.
But as much as the thought of her brother being alive filled her with joy, his call for them to stop fighting angered her. Maarkean had never wanted to fight the Alliance. Now, after months in custody, right when they were on the cusp of victory, he was calling for them to surrender. She might lose most, or all, of her fleet in this fight, but the Alliance would as well. That would allow Zeric to retake Sulas and free the sector.
As much as she wanted to trust her brother, she couldn’t—not now.
“Tell all ships to stand by. Get me General Dustlighter,” Saracasi ordered.
Zeric heard Maarkean’s voice and felt a great sense of relief. His friend was alive. And he was ordering an end to the fighting.
“Signal all forces to hold tight. Take no further aggressive action. Only fire if fired upon,” Zeric ordered.
He looked up at the security monitor and watched as the wave of Alliance forces currently rushing the base’s walls halted and then turned back. Sporadic fire continued between the two sides for several more moments but then stopped.
