Chapter 2
All the usual disclaimers apply. Reviews and comments are welcome.
253.14 NC – The Liberator, Delarius System
"Neutron blasters recharging, ten seconds to full power," Cally noted calmly.
Jenna responded by angling the Liberator to be in position to fire on the Federation Battleship that commanded the blockade group interfering with their attempt to contact the rebels on Delarius 12. The ship shuddered as enemy fire impacted the force-wall.
"Force-wall holding!" Vila screeched.
Avon sneered to himself, if it hadn't held the ship wouldn't have shuddered, it would have knocked him from his perch, leaning on the communications console as he sought to convince the blockade group that the Liberator was, in fact, moving in a completely different direction than reality portrayed. Their electronic warfare suites were sufficient to see through his deceit. Orac was useless in this sort of situation, the Federation was aware of the A.I. and had taken steps to isolate their control systems from anything capable of receiving its signal, and anything that would confuse the Federation's computers would confuse Orac as well. He swore to himself silently as his helplessness, at his uselessness in this situation, but none of that showed in his body language. He still looked like a long, lean, calm figure, wrapped in black leather.
"Drop the force-wall…now!" Cally ordered.
The force wall vanished and the neutron flare shield leapt to life to prevent scattering of radiation from the powerful weapons from cooking them alive. The neutron blasters spat fiery death towards the lumbering Federation vessel. Which missed entirely when the heavy vessel engaged its FTL engines and fled the system, first pursued, then surpassed by its escort craft.
"What the hell was that?" Cally snapped.
"Bring us around to track them," Blake ordered, rising from the command chair and ordering Zen to track the withdrawing ships.
"Aren't we supposed to be heading to Delarius 12?" Vila asked.
There was a communal moment of doubt over the fact that the thief was eager to continue a dangerous mission with no possibility of plunder, before they realized that he simply didn't want anything to do with attempting to pursue a Federation battlegroup.
"We can do that anytime, now that the blockade is gone. Finding out where a Federation battlegroup is going that is more important than fighting us is more important."
Avon resisted the urge to roll his eyes and walked over to Orac and locked the machine's key in place. He didn't particularly want to know why the battlegroup had disappeared, but decided it might be more profitable than more endless talking with would-be revolutionaries, which, in his experience was boring, occasionally dangerous and entirely profitless. "Orac, why did the battlegroup which just engaged the Liberator in combat, withdraw?"
"Because, it received orders to do so," Orac said, irascibly. "Now, I'm still trying to figure out how the aliens communicated with Travis to coordinate the assault on Star One, so stop wasting my processing power on irrelevancies."
Blake twitched irritably at the mention of their disastrous attempt to assault what they had believed to be the center of Federation military control, only to discover after penetrating the facility that not only had it been compromised by Travis's alien allies, but the facility itself didn't coordinate any of the Federation's military activity, except for the absurd propaganda project of 'mining the edge of the galaxy.'
"Provide a printout of their orders," Avon ordered, before any of the others could snap at the overly literal computer.
The printed sheet spat out without the supposed Oracle bothering to respond orally. Avon lifted it and skimmed through it. He raised a brow and passed the sheet to Blake.
"What's going on?" Jenna asked.
"It's not just this battlegroup. This was a broad-beam, all fleets are being recalled. If I'm reading this right, almost half of the fleet is gathering near the Monolith, to join the supreme commander, the rest are rendezvousing at Earth and Saurian Major. All other operations are cancelled. This is signed by both Servalan and the President," Blake said.
"Half the fleet? That's more than a thousand ships!" Jenna said. "What could need…Oh."
"Well, I guess we all know what happens next," Avon said, before retrieving Orac's key and turned to leave the flight deck.
"Wait, what happens next? Where are you going?" Vila asked.
"Ask your precious leader. I'm going to my quarters to sleep, while I can. I prefer to be at my best when dealing with Servalan."
"What do you mean? Why would we be dealing with Servalan?"
"Because anything that would need every fleet in the galaxy will need us too," Blake said.
"And placing ourselves within reach of the full, wait, I do apologize, it's only half, the might of the Federation is definitely not going to be fatal," Avon noted sardonically from the doorway.
"Zen, how long would it take us to get to the rendezvous point near the Monolith, with depletion of no more than two energy banks on arrival?" Blake asked, ignoring the programmer.
"Twelve hours, forty-seven minutes, ten—"
"Thank you, Zen," Jenna interrupted, setting the course.
"Course confirmed. Standard by five." The engines hummed to life, swinging them about and then shoving them forward at superluminal speeds.
"If half the Federation fleet can't win, what could we do?" Vila pointed out.
"More than if we aren't there," Blake said, as if that answered anything.
Vila opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the engines engaging. "I'll follow Avon's example this time. We should all be in top condition when we arrive," Blake said, leaving the bridge, shaking his head slightly.
Jenna rose and fled the room, her hands shaking slightly. She'd reacted worse than either of the others, but then again, like Cally, she'd been involved in the battle against Travis's alien allies above Star One. The men had been dirtside dealing with Travis during that horrific battle as the massive alien vessel massacred the Federation battlegroup which had been pursuing the Liberator. Eight thousand men, women, and mutoids dead in less than ten minutes and the Liberator pounded so badly they'd barely been able to limp away and it had taken more than a month for the autorepair systems and the crew to get the ship back into working order.
They'd won, but the battle had left scars far more severe, if less visible than those Travis had given Blake before the revolutionary had managed to gun down his old enemy. The fact that he'd gotten up after having been shot three times was the first sign that the aliens had given him more than just a ride. Avon had had to overload Vila's gun, (over Vila's strenuous objections, but Avon certainly wasn't going to disarm himself and Blake's gun had been lost as they dragged the unconscious man along) bringing down an entire corridor on the enhanced traitor, in order to stop his pursuit of the retreating men. Even then, Avon had insisted they strafe the area from orbit before retreating to be sure the space-commander was truly dead.
Cally could feel the same fear at the thought of facing more of those horrifically powerful, inhumanely maneuverable, simply impossible ships. But for all that she was exiled, for all that Auronar had betrayed the vision of its founders out of fear of the Federation, she would not permit these aliens who sought nothing less than the complete destruction of humanity, in all its varieties, to set one slimy tentacle in this galaxy. She had something to fight for, not merely something to fight against. She could do this. She could.
"At least Avon and Blake are in agreement on what we should do, for once," Vila muttered.
Cally laughed, grateful for the distraction. "You really think so?"
"He didn't argue!" Vila pointed out.
"Because he knew that the vote would be three-to-two." She paused and a nasty grin spread across her usually pleasant features, "Oh, I do apologize, I meant four-to-one. I forgot that you always vote with the majority."
"Coward, not idiot," Vila said proudly, tapping his chest. The thief had long ago learned that being on the winning side was far more important than being right. Because even when he was right, no one would ever give him any credit and he couldn't get away with an 'I told you so.'
"Why would he waste time on an argument he would lose, when, if he's right, there won't be any opportunity to say he told us so?" Cally asked, unknowingly echoing Vila's own thoughts.
"Why wouldn't he get to say he told us so? Avon lives to say he told us so!"
Cally almost explained, but realized that she was picking on Vila to try to make herself feel better about what she feared was their imminent death. If she really had less than a day to live, then that wasn't how she wanted to spend it. Her laughter as she left the deck was kind, and she didn't explain. Vila might sleep better if he didn't realize that if Avon was right, then they would all be very, very dead. The telepath headed towards Avon's quarters. She knew how she wanted to spend her last hours.
"Aw…crap," Vila said after a moment, his innate paranoia leading him to the right conclusion.
XXXXX
253.14 NC – Command Ship FNS Unity, Rendezvous Point
"Servalan! Have you lost your fucking mind? First you permit Star One to be destroyed, destabilizing Civil Administration control of a hundred worlds, and now you pull Fleet resources off suppression operations, and drag half my fucking fleet into the back of beyond? Forging my signature to do so? Are you trying to destroy the Federation singlehanded?" The President of the Terran Federation was a powerful speaker, for all that he maintained his power more by pacification drugs, memory replacement and disappearances than by speechifying. The command ship had the newest generation of FTL comms installed to connect it to Earth as well as a dozen major bases and twice that many other command ships Even the massive command ship, built in a battleship's hull could only power so many of the comm relays. She was now regretting the time and energy she'd put into having the command ships constructed. The real time FTL communication was a major strategic advantage, but the President's newfound ability to micromanage was infuriating.
Servalan reclined on her command throne, elegant white gown swirling around her ankles, leaving one shoulder bare and completely concealing the antipersonnel weapon hidden under her covered arm. Her mutoid* guards stood rigidly at attention, their heavy weapons held precisely, eyes tracking the movement of every man and woman in the command center, but ignoring the fuming image of the High Admiral of the Galactic Fleets, most relevant of the president's many, many titles. The crew of the command ship was less focused. Servalan despised being made to look weak in front of anyone, especially her own subordinates and would find a way to make them pay for witnessing that.
*Mutoids are those subjected to Mutoid Cybernetic Modification, either due to being sentenced to it as punishment for some crime, or as with most of those working on secret projects, purchased from worlds where slavery was legal and rather illegally modified, so that they were not listed on either inventory manifests, or recruitment lists. Only cash had to vanish, which the Federation Secret Operations Division managed easily enough, at least with the Supreme Commander's backing. Programmed loyalty did not falter and they were both stronger and faster than Human standard, even Alpha-Grade Human standard, yet they required only blood serum to survive. Well, blood serum and a recharge every few days.
Servalan resisted the urge to sigh. "Mr. President, we received a communication from our forces near the Monolith. They're under attack by the same aliens who assaulted Star One. A third of the defensive minefield has already been cleared. I'd be taking more than half the fleet, but the rest won't reach us in time. Better to hold them in reserve than throw them away piecemeal if we lose this battle." Well, that was what her generals and admirals said, her own position was more that she wanted a reserve available to rescue her if things went wrong.
"The aliens are a fucking propaganda stunt, just like that absurd 'minefield around the galaxy' bullshit. I'd say this was a coup, except you're running away. So explain yourself, Commander."
"Mr. President, I provided you with copies of the footage from Star One and from the current engagement. I can stream the footage from the current engagement if you like—"
"ENOUGH! We both know that your real skills were never military, but rather manipulation and trickery. I've seen you forge a man's memories, a video file is well within your capabilities," he took a deep breath and brough himself back under control. "Now, I'm giving you an order, return your ships to their duty posts and you will be allowed to retire honorably, with your privileges and wealth intact."
Now Servalan did sigh, shaking her head with every appearance of sadness. Perhaps she should have let the President and the Council know that the aliens were real earlier. However the evidence had all been circumstantial. It was enough to make her and her predecessors prepare, when the consequences of failing to do so was the extinction of humanity, but it probably wouldn't have convinced the men and women who made it to the top in the Civil Administration. Those Alpha Grade citizens who reached that apex of power were uniformly ruthless, selfish bastards, who would happily roll the dice on the disaster falling on the next generation, in exchange for strengthening their own position right now.
So they'd told the President and Council that the military build-up was to suppress revolt and expand the Federation. They told the legislature that the build-up was to oppose extra-galactic invaders. And they told the populace that their taxation and suffering was building a minefield that would protect the galaxy, but once it was complete, everyone would be living in a utopia. They'd convinced the Legislature that they needed to actually build some mines to support the propaganda value of the mine field, they'd convinced the Council and President that they needed to build some mines to deploy in the Outer Worlds to use to destroy any rebellious colonies, and they'd actually used the majority of the mines to fortify the system around the Monolith. Not as impossible a task as fortifying the entire galaxy, but it had still taken more than fifty years, even with the massive destructive range of the nuclear mines. Even that was only possible due to the long range of the mines and the small amount of space around the fortifications and the Monolith which needed protection.
The other fortifications had been expensive, but hiding them wasn't particularly difficult. The President and Council kept their eye on the construction of fleets, not stations, as stations could not be used to launch a coup. Only the necessity of using only loyal, unquestioning, servile (if unfortunately also sterile) mutoids as crew limited the fortification of the system. The Humans (except a command staff on each station) were relegated to the nearby habitable system with massive bases intended to delay the enemy, or, if the enemy skipped over sieging the bases, then they would raid the enemy supply lines, to which end massive underground construction yards had been built. The fact that those who'd built them believed they were preparing for exactly the coup the President now feared was a bit of irony that amused Servalan, despite her concern as the enemy cleared their minefield by simply driving some of their smaller ships through it. Even the smallest took several hits before being destroyed. Only the mine's engines had prevented them from opening a secure zone so far, and their ability to simply appear in the system without showing up on any sensors was a worrisome development.
Servalan smiled brightly, ignoring the tension in the room. "I'm sorry to hear that Mr. President. Mr. Jordan, put the President to bed."
"Wha—" The President's question ended along with his life as his bodyguard blew the president's brains out and lifted the gun slowly to his own temple, hands struggling futilely against the mental programming and his hand spasmed, despite his best, panicked efforts.
Servalan loved that moment, when someone finally realized that she was in complete control and they controlled nothing, not even their own bodies. A second shot rang out and he joined his putative master on the ground. The President of the Terran Federation, Ruler of the High Council, Lord of the Inner and Outer Worlds, High Admiral of the Galactic Fleets, Lord General of the Six Armies and Defender of the Earth was no more and Servalan had to get back to work, which is exactly what she ordered her shocked crew.
Given that she'd just had her sole superior killed by his most trusted servant, they hastened to obey, shooting her looks somewhere between awe and terror. The president had thought he was being clever, recruiting his personal guard from amongst the Terra Nostra,* but both Servalan and her predecessor had known that and ensured that the enforcers sent for 'training' at the School of the Stars** all received 'loyalty' treatments.
*The Terra Nostra are the largest criminal syndicate in the galaxy and, for the most part, completely unaware that they're under the command of the President of the Federation.
**The School of the Stars provides training to Federation satrapies and dependencies, in military combat, interrogation and counter-insurgency tactics, as well as…other services.
She sent a quick message to General Samor, commanding the fleet gathering at Earth, telling the old warhorse to handle matters as he saw fit. She wouldn't have time to deal with the politics. She'd barely finished that task when a message came in from Admiral Parel, commanding the forces surrounding the Monolith. "Supreme Commander, they've cleared a hole in the mines and established a foothold in the system. They're already begun mine clearing operations. Their weapons out-range the mines'. I'm pulling the remaining mines back to shield my stations from any attempt to close the range."
"We'll be in position to support you within the hour, General. Hold on." An hour would mean that they were departing before all their forces had arrived, but she had enough ships, and would have more reinforcements inbound, unlike these alien monstrosities, whose numbers had to be limited as they attempted to launch an invasion from outside the galaxy.
For a second her mind wandered, wondering if the odd tentacled nature of the ships indicated anything about their inhabitants and creators. Probably not, after all, Human ships were blocky things, bristling weapon ports, nothing at all like Humans. She paused, thinking of the late, unlamented, Space-Commander Travis and amended the thought to 'nothing like most Humans.' Still, those in the know had already taken up calling the aliens Squids.
Admiral Parel stiffened as if she'd insulted his mother. "This is the most heavily fortified station in the Federation, Supreme Commander, we'll hold the line."
"Good." She waved a hand and the communications officer cut the connection. She rose and swayed out of the command room, guards at her back. The guards on her office door opened it when they saw her coming and searched the room before she entered. She sat down at her desk, a figure draped in white, in a brilliant white room, everything pure and clean and ordered. She breathed deeply for a full minute, then called up the data and summoned her staff. A dozen psychostrategists,* admirals and generals.
*Psychostrategists are experts in predicting Human behavior, based on complete information, they could provide a completely accurate prediction. Unfortunately, the information regarding the aliens was incomplete, but Servalan still sought their advice and assistance.
The staff filed in and she activated the display that filled the main table. The display showed the Monolith system. The massive, phallic object, invulnerable and unopenable, hanging in space near the oddly shaped circular relic, like the ones scattered throughout space, curiosities studied by the eccentric, launchers of a thousand theories, but no technologies or profit had ever come from them and so they came to be ignored. They'd used the Monolith and the relic as bases for the first stations, but others had been built away from them, for fear that the undeniably alien artifacts had something to do with their feared, posited alien adversaries.
The enemy had indeed appeared near the Monolith, near the original station, its massive, heavily shielded bulk clinging to the artifact like coral. The enemy was rapidly deploying towards both artifacts, more ships simply appearing on their scanners every moment. A hundred of the larger vessels were already in the system, coasting towards the stations at impossible speeds, ignoring the fragments of their smaller kin, destroyed by the hundreds to clear the space they occupied so arrogantly. Both of the two immobile bases were surrounded by several thousand mines, each capable of producing a ravening blast of energy which could smash a battleship.
A delicate touch brought up display behind her, showing their own fleet movements. The last battlegroups were approaching at top speed. They'd need to refuel before moving on to battle.
"Analysis," she ordered coldly.
Admiral Lana, one of General Samor's old compatriots was the senior member of her staff. "The situation is bad, but not desperate. We'll have the largest fleet ever assembled, more than a thousand ships, including a full three hundred capital ships. We'll suffer some casualties, but so long as we focus a battlegroup's worth of fire on each ship, until it's destroyed, we should be effective. With the support of the stations, the fleet can win this. My main concern is electronic warfare of the type we saw in their assault on Star One. We've adopted the same techniques we used against the Liberator's A.I. I propose to also transmit full orders of battle and targets to each group before we enter the system and require all commanders to memorize their orders, so even if they have some unforeseen capability we should be able to be properly coordinated."
"And the stations?"
"We should use them as shields. I propose to issue orders to have each battlegroup fall back behind a station's shields if its capital ships are in danger."
"The stations won't be there by the time we arrive. Not the two biggest ones at least," Psychostrategist Pel Nort interjected. Servalan glanced at the youngest man in the room. He was one of her favorites, and not just because he was an awfully pretty young man. She'd entertained herself with him occasionally, but he was on her staff, not merely in her bed, because he was a top psychostrategist. At the moment he was desperate to prove himself. He'd radically misestimated Travis, and advised her most uselessly regarding the traitor's actions at Star One.
The failure wasn't his fault, they had had no warning of the alien's ability to brainwash people without drugs, surgery, or anything that was in any way detectible (her own subversion of the President's guard had also required the subversion, through money, rather than brainwashing, of the doctors who'd checked the man). No scapegoat was needed, as the President did not know of either Travis's or Blake's involvement. When he hadn't believed the initial reports of the alien ship, even with its remains in hand, she'd had to change tactics and asserted that this was the initial strike of the System. Dealing with the group that had constructed, then lost the Liberator was not her responsibility (as the President had discovered the existence of the System though his control of the Terra Nostra and had assigned the search for them to officers personally loyal to him, imagining Servalan did not know about it, 'discovering' his knowledge after the disaster had provided her enough leverage to avoid any consequences). And so the psychostrategist had survived his failure.
Though he might not survive this meeting unless he had a very good reason for taking so unpopular a position.
Lana turned steel grey eyes, which matched her cropped hair, on the young man. The younger man didn't shrink before her stare, but was diminished by the comparison. "Their main weapons are ballistic, not energy based. They will not lose cohesion over any range. Nor are they guided weapons, so there's no way to trick them into missing."
"Yes. That was obvious from the engagement at Star One. You underestimate the power of the layered shielding and armor of those bases. With the fusion power plants, they'll be able to endure a continuous barrage for an extended period, unless the enemy closes to—" the Admiral cut herself off.
"The enemy doesn't have to close, because their weapons are as powerful a light hour out as a light second out," Pel pointed out. "And this," he waved a hand as a second wave of alien ships materialized on the screen, streaming in data from the battlefield, bringing the total enemy capital ships up to almost two hundred, "is an order of magnitude more ships than we expected them to be able to bring to bear. Until the encounter at Star One, we assumed they'd have to close to within range of our own weapons to fire. Afterwards, we assumed that the mines would do most of the work and the remaining vessels would have to close to bring their secondary weapons to bear in order to punch through our defenses. Neither of those is true. The moment they sort out their battle-line so their ships aren't blocking each other's shots, they'll fire a full barrage. No shielding or armor in existence will stop that."
The admiral frowned as she ran math, multiplying the yield of the main cannon of the enemy vessel they'd already encountered by a hundred, then comparing it to the capacity of the shield generators and armor of the stations, then the woman went white. Well, whiter.
"You're forgetting something," Servalan pointed out quietly. All eyes snapped to the supreme commander.
"Oh?" Pel asked, somewhere between amused and terrified. "The relics. These aliens obviously have something to do with them. Are we sure they'll risk damaging them with such a powerful attack?"
"Nothing has damaged them before," Pel pointed out.
"Which doesn't mean nothing can damage them. Especially given the artifacts current…behavior," Servalan noted.
Everyone turned their attention back to the display table and looked not at the enemy fleet, but at their two main bases and saw what Servalan had seen. The Monolith was…opening. Invisible seams turned into gaping caverns as it opened like a flower. Fortunately, the station was mostly built on one of the sections, but a section of the base was ripped away as it opened, leaving a gaping hole in the armor and a hundred crewmembers to die slowly as their powerless section of the station slowly lost life-support.
The other station was glowing blue and its midsection had begun to spin. Fortunately the base had not been built on fragile seeming strands that made up the ball at the center of the artifact, but rather all along the still-immobile top.
"You're right, but it won't matter," Pel countered. "Look at their fleet deployments. They're mustering just enough ships to deal with the secondary stations, while their main force moves in along the sides to blow the stations off the artifacts."
"Admiral, Pel, adjust fleet tactics to take account of the fact that the enemy prefers to avoid firing directly on the targets. You," she pointed at a staffer at random, "inform the base commanders to concentrate their shielding on the sides and move their mines in under the shielding."
"Supreme Commander?" Pel asked, confused.
She rolled her eyes, psychostrategists, it was said, never made a mistake unless they lacked all the facts. Her own file and behavior was so full of misdirection and flat out lies that the foolish creatures were useless against her. "If the enemy wants to keep it intact, we'll destroy it. We'll remotely trigger the base's and mines' Omega protocol when they can no longer delay the enemy."
There was a moment of silence in which none of her staff dared point out that the two stations housed almost a million Federation soldiers. Admittedly the vast majority were mutoids, but the remainder were among the Federations best and most loyal soldiers.
"You have work to do," she noted and the staff sprang into action. Those not given specific tasks rushing off to harry underlings into preparing the fleet to advance. Two hundred capital ships was bad, but this wasn't unwinnable. Especially not with the enemy currently dispersed throughout the system. It practically invited defeat in detail, despite the absurd speed of the enemy ships.
Minutes ticked by as the aliens maneuvered themselves into position. The enemy had started out near the Monolith, which would, she mused, need a new name after this, and were in position to fire on it first. They encircled the base and fired in unison. Her hand hovered over the button which would activate the base's Omega protocol, overload all the reactors, weapons and mines on the base and engulf the entire thing in unrelenting nuclear fire. But the shields held. The dedicated power production of a hundred fusion generators resisted the fire of thirty of the creatures. They fired again less than eight seconds later. Even the most pessimistic of their projections had assumed a minute between shots, based on the pattern of the enemy ship at Star One. But that ship had had to line up those shots with comparatively tiny enemy vessels, not simply fire on a static target. The moment she saw flames penetrate the shield perimeter, she pushed the button.
Three quarters of a million troops died in that instant. A thousand particle cannons overloaded, four thousand three hundred and ninety two nuclear mines, each a dozen times more powerful than the ones which had pacified the rebellious colony of Minos Minor, exploded and a hundred fusion plants, each capable of powering a domed city on Earth detonated. The devastation on the interior of the Monolith was savage, but the shell was not even scratched.
Servalan's eyes narrowed like a gambler reacting to a bad deal.
It was another five minutes before the fleet was ready to depart. She let the good admiral give the orders and watched the mightiest fleet ever assembled by the Federation race towards the enemy, herself in the center of the very heart, no, the brain of that great conglomeration of fleets. It was an intoxicating feeling of power. The others felt it too, but the danger tempered it for them. They could not feel powerful until they were safe as well.
Only Servalan of all the crew of the command ship understood that there was no safety anywhere. If the President had understood that, his brains might not have been decorating the walls of his office. Or perhaps they would, she'd arranged the deaths of a great many properly paranoid and powerful people. And now she would show the universe that it was worth it.