Rebellion at Ailon

by T J Mott

  Suddenly, the Rebels began taking laser fire…from behind. Frowning, Thad moved to the rear of the alley and crouched behind a pair of Marines as they attacked a building they’d already moved past. “Report!” he asked.

  The closest Marine shook his head. “We were flanked, and I don’t know how. Someone somewhere screwed up.”

  Thad sighed and keyed in his comm. “Captain Toma, what’s going on here? We’re pinned between two groups of enemies!”

  Toma’s response pretty much echoed the Marine’s. “We can’t have anyone behind us like this. I’m going to direct a ton of cover fire at that building and send some men in to deal with it.”

  Thad nodded and tightened his grip on his carbine. “My group looks closest, we’ll go. Just say when.”

  Immediately, volleys of laser fire erupted from the Rebel line, flashing across the streets and lawns into the building behind them. The enemy fire reduced greatly, and Toma gave his order. Thad shot to his feet and sprinted across the street, followed closely by a large squad of mixed Rebels and Marines. Heart pounding, he was about to slam the front door open, but one particularly large Marine shoved him out of the way and took point instead. Thad felt a surge of anger but it only lasted for a moment. No self-respecting foot soldier would allow someone with the rank of Admiral to take point like that.

  He followed them in, finding himself in a fairly plush, well-decorated lobby. Along the back wall was a large receptionist’s desk, and the other lobby walls had a fireplace, some fish tanks, and Avennian artwork. Three doors on three walls led to the wings of the building. The leather couches and chairs seemed so weird to Thad at first, since he was used to all the cheap plastic furniture used by the Foundation. Avennian offices were clearly far nicer than Ailonian ones.

  A group of men crouched behind the receptionist’s desk, firing their lasers at Thad’s group. To Thad’s left, a Rebel fell, and a Marine shook off a blow as his armor absorbed a laser blast. The Marines returned fire, forcing the enemy to duck behind the desk for cover. Thad joined in, firing laser beams of his own over the top of the receptionist’s desk, and, simultaneously, a group of Rebels flanked the desk and fired. The enemy dropped and the Marines exited into the wings, clearing the building in a cool and professional manner.

  The two Rebels who’d just stormed the desk still stood near its end, their faces rapidly draining of blood. Thad jogged up to them. “What is it?” he asked, before turning to see for himself. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

  Five corpses were behind the desk, wisps of smoke rising into the air from their fatal laser wounds.

  All five bodies were Rebel.

  Thad keyed his comm, connecting to the Marines in the building with him. “Heads-up, these are Rebels, not Avennians!” he exclaimed. “Hold your fire and identify yourselves! We’ve got a friendly-fire situation here!”

  Toma’s voice cut in. “Someone confirm that!”

  “Confirmed,” another Marine said. “Captain, they’re firing on us! Ignoring our orders to hold fire!”

  “Retreat back to the lobby!” Thad ordered.

  “Aye, Admiral! Sir, they’re pursuing us!”

  “Hold your fire!” Thad bellowed. “Do not fire upon Rebels!” He growled in frustration and switched his comm over to the Council frequency. “We’re under attack by Rebels! I need someone with a Rebel radio to contact these guys and get them to hold their fire!”

  “What?” Culper’s voice was shocked. “I’m not aware of any other Rebels in the area, except those with you.”

  “We’ve had plenty of our own men wear Avennian uniforms,” Sal reminded them. “Could the Avennians be playing the same game now?”

  Frowning, Thad took cover behind the receptionist’s desk and checked on the bodies as Marines returned to the main lobby. “They look like Ailonians to me!” he said frantically, noting the poor condition of their clothing and weapons. He didn’t think the Avennians would put that much effort into a disguise.

  Several other Marines took cover beside him, just as the wing doors opened and the enemy—looking very much like Rebels—stormed the lobby, flashing lasers in all directions. The Marines returned suppressive fire while Thad shouted into the din. “Hold your fire! Friendly fire, friendly fire!”

  But it was no good and the Rebels pressed their attack. Finally, the Marines had had enough and deposed the attackers. The lobby fell silent. “Toma, what’s the situation out there?”

  “Antitank weapons are in play. I have one squad working on taking out the enemy tanks, and the transports are on standby to return to providing air support.”

  “This one’s still alive!” a Marine shouted, snapping Thad’s attention back to the lobby.

  “Medic!” he called out as he jogged over, crouching by the Marine and the fallen Rebel. “What’s going on here?” he asked loudly.

  The Rebel winced and coughed painfully. He had a laser burn through his abdomen, and his eyes were squeezed shut tightly. “Taking out the pirate,” he said haltingly, wracked with pain and lacking any alertness.

  Thad narrowed his eyes. “What pirate?” he asked. “Whose orders?”

  “Thaddeus Marcell is here. We have to stop him. If you see him, kill him. Abram’s orders.”

  Feeling a sudden burst of anger, Thad abruptly stood to his feet. “Treat him,” he said as a Marine medic approached. Scanning the lobby, he keyed his comm so the Rebels in the room and all the nearby Marines could all hear him. “Marines, clear the building,” he ordered. “Only fire when absolutely necessary. Rebels, return to the main line.” He couldn’t order Rebels to fire upon Rebels, even if their fellows were being treasonous.

  The Marines exploded into action, spreading out through the building’s wings, clearing offices and moving up floor-by-floor. A number of the enemy Rebels surrendered on sight, terrified by the swift professionalism of Thad’s Marines, but just as many fought back and paid for it with their lives.

  Thad keyed his comm back to the Rebel leadership. “Be advised, Abram is after me!” he shouted into his mic. “These Rebels were under his orders to kill me! Get this under control so I don’t have to kill any more Ailonians!” He killed the comm before anyone could reply. He had a war to finish, and he wasn’t going to pause to deal with inconvenient political divisions. This close to victory, he would cut down anyone who stood between him and Ailon’s freedom—even if they were Rebels.

  Soon, the building was clear. Thad and the Marines returned to the main line just as his men destroyed the last of the Avennian tanks. Without them, the skies were safe again, and the Marine transports quickly returned to battle, spitting death from above with their heavy antipersonnel lasers and directing the ground troops from their vantage point.

  The enemy line quickly broke, the Avennians falling back in retreat again, and the combined Rebel/Marine force continued to push forward. The Avennians failed to organize a new defense, clearly startled and frightened by the sudden appearance of elite ground troops. And five hundred meters later, Thad could see the Capitol and administration buildings, just in time to see a series of transports begin to take off from the Capitol’s rooftop landings and blast towards space. “The big-wigs are evacuating,” he noted.

  “They look like short-range interstellar transports. Shall we fire on them?” asked Captain Toma.

  “No,” Thad answered, shaking his head. “Let them go. We’re after freedom, not bloodshed.”

  “Copy. Also, a number of transports are leaving the spaceport and garrison, too. Looks like a mass evacuation of officers and administrators. We see no signs of evacuation among the Army soldiers.”

  The conglomeration quickly moved through the nighttime and reached the Capitol building. Facing a fearsome force of Marines, and with their leaders evacuating behind them, the few police and military guards immediately threw down their weapons and raised their hands. Thad’s Marines confiscated the weapons, piling them up safely out of the enemy’s reach, and searched the Capitol. Minutes
later, Toma reported that nobody of any serious rank seemed to be left in the planet’s administrative centers. The Governor and his advisors were gone, as well as the top administrators and most of the Avennian Army’s officers.

  In short, Ailon had just won the ground war.

  ***

  Ailon’s lone moon, although quite small, appeared large on the sensors, a lumpy chunk of metal-rich rock that blossomed on the scanners anytime an active sensor beam shined its way. Poulsen’s heart beated nervously within her chest as Ghost Squadron formed up for another pass at the Avennian fleet. They’d been playing tricks with their stealth capabilities, some of the gunships switching on and off their active sensors to keep the enemy confused about their positions, all while diving through the enemy fleet and briefly exchanging fire each time.

  They’d already forced one frigate and a corvette to withdraw. Ghost Squadron itself had only taken minor damage; Ghost 2 now remained unstealthed due to some armor scorches that exposed enough of its underlying hull metal to provide a large radar return.

  For the moment, things were generally in Poulsen’s favor. But it was only a matter of time. She was outnumbered and outgunned, and she knew her luck couldn’t stay this way forever. And those enemy destroyers were particularly worrisome, although they seemed to be hanging back for some reason, letting Ghost Squadron joust with the smaller Avennian starships. She didn’t understand their logic and on the surface it seemed to be a major tactical blunder. But at least it gave her some breathing room. The Organization’s data about Avennia’s fleet, used by Commodore Reynolds when selecting Ghost Squadron to assist at Ailon, seemed to be inaccurate or outdated, and so she just didn’t have the firepower to deal with them, especially without the Lynx.

  The formations aligned at each other, fired up their main thrusters, and accelerated again. Lasers lanced back and forth as they came into range of each other, Ghost Squadron concentrating its fire on a single enemy frigate and the Avennians splitting their fire between the highly-visible Ghost 1 and 2 gunships.

  And within seconds, the two formations swept through each other and moved away. “Ghost 1, 2. Our laser cooling conduits just got blasted, I’m afraid we’re out of the fight.”

  Poulsen scowled and tightened a fist, but caught herself before she could slam it on the console. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Copy. Get out of here, 2. Go form up with the Lynx if you can.”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  More attrition. She was losing starships and very necessary firepower. Couldn’t Marcell hurry up and get the Avennian regime to surrender? Because that was the only path she saw to keep the destroyers away.

  She shuffled her squadron around again as they reversed course, issuing new orders on how to modulate their active sensors on and off to confuse the enemy, when suddenly the phi-band alarms went off. Over, and over, and over, and over again, as the unknown fleet which had appeared outside the system an hour ago dropped out of hyperspace within five hundred klicks of the battlefield. The newcomers lit up on the sensor displays, blinding her gunships as they blanketed the area with high-powered active sensor sweeps. They quickly moved into formation with astonishing efficiency, demonstrating that their crews were very competent and experienced, and began approaching the engagement at flank speed.

  She felt her blood go cold. Thirty-three additional vessels, and from the sensor returns—still confusing, until her officers could cut through the noise and start making sense of things—many of them were large. “Do we have hyperdrive?” she asked.

  “Negative, hyperdrive is not charged!” Clauncy replied.

  A great sense of fear began to well up within her. Her flotilla was so outnumbered that continuing to fight was suicide. “Full-throttle retreat!” she ordered. “Get clear, now!” She switched one of her displays to show an external visual feed. Zooming in, she clearly saw several destroyer-sized vessels and around fifteen heavy frigates, along with a number of smaller corvette or gunship-sized starships that didn’t quite resolve yet. But all of them rode on brilliant flares of fusion exhaust, streaking towards the battle like meteors. She barely had time to think, and then they were in range. Dozens of deadly laser beams flashed out from the newcomers, converging on one single target with professional precision and timing.

  Poulsen winced—

  And realized the newcomers weren’t firing at her. They were firing on one of the Avennian destroyers. The volley quickly began cutting through armor plates, severing coolant lines and plasma conduits and resulting in a spray of atmosphere and molten metal that erupted from the destroyer, acting like chaff and filling the sensor feeds with a confusing cloud of debris. On the visual feed, she watched as the destroyer’s thrusters went dark, its lasers quit firing, and it quickly drifted away from the engagement on inertia.

  “What?!” she shouted in confusion.

  “Commander, they just enabled their transponders. It’s Yellow Fleet!”

  She exhaled forcefully, not realizing she’d been holding her breath, and felt a sudden wave of relief and exhilaration wash over her. So Marcell’s call for help had gone out to more than just Blue Fleet and Headquarters, and now another of Marcell’s fleets, this one in Commodore Wilcox’s command, had arrived. “Cancel retreat!” she exclaimed.

  As she watched the sensor feeds, Wilcox’s starships focused fire on the next Avennian destroyer, and not even thirty seconds later the enemy starships, realizing they were suddenly vastly outgunned, broadcast a surrender message.

  ***

  Thad smiled and almost collapsed from joy as he heard the news. More of his forces had arrived! Commodore Wilcox’s Yellow Fleet was far slower than Blue Fleet, and it had just taken them longer to get to Ailon after receiving Thad’s call for help. Now, Thaddeus unequivocally controlled the airspace in the Ailon system, and though the combined Rebel and Marine ground forces were certainly outnumbered by the remaining Avennian Army and Ailon Federal Police Force, it would be suicidal for the enemy to continue the fight with so many starships above. Wilcox’s heavy, well-armed starships in particular would have no problem cutting down formations of infantry from low orbit.

  He was on the front steps of the Capitol building, watching as the Rebels and Marines worked together to bring order. They disarmed the remaining forces in the government sector of the city, piling confiscated weapons into ARF trucks and guarding noncivilian Avennians in nearby holding areas.

  “Wilcox, I have one last thing I need you to wrap up,” Thad said to the Yellow Fleet commander over his comm. “There are slave-operated mines up on the moon. Land some men there, deal with any guards as necessary, and evacuate the slaves.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  Thad’s company of Marines worked to maintain order and assist, as well as relay orders between the Rebel fighters and the Rebel Council over their Imperial-grade comm units, but otherwise they remained out of the Ailonians’ way, standing guard over Thaddeus lest any more Rebels attack him.

  And across the city, the Ailonian mood was exhuberant, and they called out to each other with joyous shouts of “Ailon is free!” The Ailon Relief Foundation, its Avennian handlers having fled the planet, exploded into action, finally gathering up the war’s wounded. Just as importantly, they quickly gained access to the slave encampments in the industrial sectors of Orent. Wilcox landed a number of Yellow Fleet’s own marines—known as Hellions—to assist across the city.

  He looked up to the night sky, watching as eight bright stars descended from space. It was Ghost Squadron, returning to ground for a damage inspection. They landed in the park, right in front of the Capitol, and the crews quickly disembarked for some fresh air. Thad casually strode out to meet them, finding one tall blonde woman in a generic blue uniform who was easy to pick out from the crowd. “Good work, Commander,” he greeted her. “Ailon owes you much.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” she responded, her face stony and unreadable. “What’s next here?”

  He shrugged mildly. “W
e’ll stick around for a few days and see how we can assist. Make sure there’s an orderly transition of power, that the remaining Avennian troops don’t stir anything up, and help the Foundation deal with slaves. Things like that. Anything beyond that, well, it’s up to the Council and what they need.”

  “Very well. Do you have any other business? I have some damage assessments to work on.”

  He glanced at the gunships landed behind her, unable to see much except their landing lights in the nighttime, and nodded. “Yeah, take care of your squadron. I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks again,” he added.

  Ailon had been enslaved because of him. But now, that enslavement was finally over, and though Ailon still had a long road to recovery and would certainly face many challenges, the Avennians were gone. Thad’s mistake was fixed.

  Epilogue

  Ghost 1 touched down on the lawn in front of the main hospital building at the old Ailon Relief Foundation’s main campus. Moments later, Thaddeus and Lieutenant Commander Poulsen disembarked, walking swiftly towards the building. Despite the Ailonian victory just a few days before, Thad felt like he’d lost. Inside, he was numb and cold and hollow, disbelieving at the message he’d received an hour ago.

  “How did it happen?”

  Thaddeus felt his stomach tighten at Poulsen’s question as she escorted him through the hospital hallways. His subordinates had unanimously demanded that he accept a platoon of Marines as bodyguards during the remainder of his time on Ailon, but he was not comfortable with the image that sent to the locals, even after Abram’s attack. Finally, he’d accepted a compromise that had assigned Poulsen herself as his bodyguard. She was tough enough to deal with any kind of petty harrassment, and the Rebels also held a begrudging respect for her. Her squadron had played an essential role in Ailon’s victory, even more so than Thad’s actions on the ground, and no Ailonian could deny that.