What Measure Honor

by Z98

It had been many years since Grace Reynolds last met her old classmate, Daven Adams. When Adams appears as a prospective candidate to fill a hole in her squadron, old emotions stir within Reynolds. Such thoughts are quickly forced aside however as they are drawn into a race to save Earth. In the process, Reynolds finds that to her, Adams is more than just a wingman or a friend.

2. Chapter 1

Briefing on UNE Fleet Organization

When the United Nations of Earth first began its colonization effort, it found it needed a naval force large enough and powerful enough to protect the new worlds. As such, the UNE Navy was founded and grew in step with the increasing number of colonies. The UNE Navy's role of protection soon shifted to one of occupation but its need for more and more ships did not change. By the time the colonies were in open revolt, the UNE Navy had six numbered fleets.

First Fleet is charged with the defense of the Sol System and its commanding officer has traditionally held the rank of Fleet Admiral. It is the largest of the numbered fleets mostly because the UNE's civilian leadership is deathly afraid of the ramifications of a successful attack on Earth, both militarily and politically. For much of the early part of the war, an assignment to First Fleet was considered the easy way of rising through the ranks by accruing seniority without actually risking one's life against the Colonial Independence Navy. This changed after First Fleet's commanding officer was court martialed for gross incompetence and the UNE began rotating units in and out of First Fleet on a regular basis.

Second Fleet has traditionally been the primary offensive fleet. Many of the early attempts to militarily reconquer the colonies have been carried out by it with varying degrees of success. While Second Fleet has managed to take systems from time to time, the UNE has been singularly unsuccessful in actually holding them. Second Fleet has also suffered the highest casualty rates of any of the fleets, if only because it is constantly reinforced and sent back out to fight. The only other fleet that suffered anywhere near as many casualties is Fifth Fleet.

Third Fleet was charged with the defense of the Taranto Naval Shipyards. Originally a powerful formation, its strength was sapped by continuous raids on its supply line and a concentrated campaign of harassment and ambushes that slowly whittled down its numbers. When the CIN finally attacked Taranto in force, Third Fleet had already lost nearly half of its standing strength and was completely destroyed.

Fourth Fleet is a roving defensive command currently focused on finding and defeating the Black Fleet. It has already suffered a string of defeats at the hands of Admiral Suvorov and some members of the fleet are considered almost obsessive in their determination to hunt down the Black Fleet. So far it has had little success and many have begun questioning why an entire fleet has been diverted to deal with what amounts to from the UNE Navy's perspective little more than a taskforce of capital ships.

Fifth Fleet is another defensive fleet, originally charged with the defense of Foldpoint 1183. Fifth Fleet was effectively destroyed when Admiral Suvorov captured the foldpoint but the UNE rebuilt it basically from scratch. Since then Fifth Fleet has generally operated in a dispersed fashion, dealing with fires that crop up along the borders of Colonial and UNE space. The last major engagement that saw the fleet concentrated in strength was at the Targon Nebula, where it again suffered heavy casualties but succeeded in repelling a major CIN offensive.

Sixth Fleet is not an operational fleet in the conventional sense. It doubles as both a reserve and a training fleet. Sixth Fleet provides UNE cadets with practical experience before their graduation and also serves as a place for new ships to work up. This means beyond a very small cadre of capital ships, its composition is always in flux. Sixth Fleet is however also a strategic reserve that can be used to reinforce one of the other fleets if the situation so warrants.

While the UNE has suffered some attrition since the start of the war, the success it has had making good its losses is highly worrisome. Should the UNE ever prove willing to uncover rear sectors, it could easily double the number of ships committed to offensive actions. If that were to happen, the CIN simply does not have the numbers to stop all of the incursions.

Commodore Vincent Taylor

Chief of Staff, First Fleet

Colonial Independence Navy

Chapter 1: Shattered Swords

The men and women already waiting in the briefing room came to attention as Reynolds entered with Adams right behind.

"As you were," Reynolds said as she walked up to the front of the room.

Adams stayed with her though kept to the side, waiting until Reynolds was ready for him. All of them looked over Adams though a few resisted the urge to stare at his neck. That quickly stopped as Reynolds cleared her throat.

"Alright, before we get to the nitty-gritty, I've got someone to introduce. You all probably seen his face plastered across the news enough times but in case any of you've been living in your cockpits, this is Lieutenant Daven Adams. And since he's the only one that can keep up with me in a fighter, he'll be acting as my wingman."

"Ma'am, that's only cause you cheat," a respectfully flippant voice said.

The others chuckled and Reynolds cracked a smile herself.

"If you're not cheating, you're not trying hard enough," she said. "Anyway, you can stop hovering behind me now Adams."

Adams nodded and took a seat with the others as Reynolds continued.

"Despite the little fiasco during Adams' re-qual, Command still wants our squadron to rendezvous with the combined fleet op. By the time we catch up with them, they'll already have reached the Sybille System."

"Still no word on what the hell the fleet is after?" another pilot asked.

Reynolds shook her head. "No, though considering the vector and how many ships got pulled in, it doesn't take a genius to guess. We're going after Taranto and we're going to end this war when we level that place."

Firm nods agreed with her statement. Taranto was the largest and most important shipyard in the hands of the Colonial Independence Movement. In fact, it was the only large-scale shipyard in colonial hands. Its size was due to the fact that it was originally an UNE shipyard, one seized by the Colonial Independence Navy in its first major offensive operation. Possession of Taranto had allowed the CIN to expand its forces and maintain its momentum, granting it a string of victories over the UNE. The tide was slowly turning however and the UNE had recovered considerably in recent years. Now they would hammer the first nail in the CIN's coffin by retaking Taranto.

"Unfortunately we won't be traveling in much comfort. Since any carrier in this sector that was already going to join the fleet already has, we'll be traveling in the rough."

Moans and grumbles answered Reynolds' announcement and she found herself in general agreement. While fighters did have the range, barely, to make such long trips, it was incredibly uncomfortable to do so. Even ignoring the septic issue, sitting on one's ass for that long was incredibly tiring and tended to dull one's senses.

"Fortunately, we'll be able to stop by a few of the outposts along the way," Reynolds said. "That should give us chances to shower and eat solid, maybe even real food, and I somehow doubt we'll be thrown into the fire the moment we reach Sybille."

Grunts of reluctant agreement sounded. Throughout all this however Adams had remained quiet and looked remarkably focused. Now he waved his hand to get Reynolds' attention.

"Yes lieutenant?"

Adams' mouth opened. Which carrier are we being assigned to once we reach Sybille.

The monotone voice was obviously synthesized and its flatness made Adams' question sound more like a statement. The other pilots all glanced at him, some doing a better job of hiding their surprise than others. For that matter, Reynolds was not amongst them as she realized her mouth was hanging open.

"Umm, according to the latest orders, we're supposed to flesh out the Cronus' light craft wing."

Adams nodded and leaned back, his gaze remaining on Reynolds as he waited for her to continue. Reynolds cleared her throat again, as much to hide her embarrassment as to buy time to collect her thoughts. Intellectually she had known that part of Adams' rehabilitation involved the implantation of a synthetic voice box to replace the one effectively destroyed by his injuries. He needed some way to communicate with other people if he was going to remain in the UNE after all. The unnaturalness of the voice however explained why he had bothered learning how to sign and why he so readily took advantage of the fact that Reynolds could read sign. Something told Reynolds that Adams would likely do the same to anyone else who revealed themselves to share this ability.

"We were originally going to be traveling light," Reynolds said once she composed herself. "In light of how deeply Cindy raids have penetrated, Command has decided we get to keep a full load of missiles all the way."

That announcement was met with approving gazes all around. True this meant the total mass of their fighters would be a bit higher, but in the greater scheme of things lowering the distance they could fold in a single jump by a few million kilometers was not that big a deal. On the other hand the missiles would have been sorely missed if Command had stuck with its previous orders and her squadron ran into more raiders along the way.

"Alright, the techs should have finished prepping our birds by now. Suit up and get down to the hanger. The sooner we depart, the sooner we get out of our sweat suits."

So dismissed, the pilots marched out of the briefing room towards their respective locker rooms. Despite the legal frameworks that guaranteed equality of the sexes, the military remained predominantly a male profession and so there were only two other women in Reynolds' squadron. Their lack of numbers however did not diminish the opportunities to gossip.

"So LT, what's this I hear you knew Adams from way back?"

Reynolds blinked as she momentarily stopped changing. "And where did you hear that?"

"Oh it's all over. From what I hear you two were fairly close while at the academy."

Shaking her head in resignation, Reynolds muttered. "Scuttlebutt's been busy I see."

"Aha, so it's true!"

"Carol, you really need to stop paying attention to every rumor you hear," Reynolds chided. "If you keep at it, you'll find yourself in a world of hurt someday."

"No need to get defensive LT," Senior Flight Officer Caroline McBride said with a grin. "All of us knew you were evaluating Adams to try to fill the last slot. We're just wondering if he's as good as the media kept proclaiming after he got the medal."

"He is good," Reynolds said as she pulled her hair back into a tail. "I wasn't lying when I said Adams could actually keep up with me. We were partners for a lot of exercises as cadets and no other training pair ever managed to win a duel against us."

"Would you say that owed more to Adams or yourself ma'am?" Flight Officer First Class Naomi Saito asked.

Reynolds gave Saito a cool gaze but her face quickly cracked into a chuckle. Saito was one of the pilots that alternated as Reynolds' wingman previously, marking her as one of the better pilots in the squadron. At the same time the young woman had a mischievous mind masked by a seemingly polite façade. Twice now Reynolds had seen Saito ruthlessly cut someone down to size without once raising her voice or using anything but the most polite of language. Saito generally did not ever try this on superior officers, not without first worming into their good graces at least.

"To be honest, I doubt either of us would have scored that well with anyone else," Reynolds finally said. "Adams tends to run really stupid risks and relies on his wingman to cover his ass. There was one time he actually let a missile hit his fighter just so he wouldn't have to cut down on his acceleration when chasing an opponent. If I hadn't been there, he would have gotten his ass blown off in the exercise."

McBride frowned. "Is he overly reckless ma'am?"

Reynolds shook her head. "No, not reckless. More like very focused. He has really good instincts and he seems to know when insane opportunities crop up. The tricky part for anyone flying with him is to sense when he's about to take some crazy risk and provide the cover that he needs to get back out in one piece."

"And that's why you're assigning him as your wingman?" McBride ventured.

Reynolds nodded, zipping up the flight suit. "The squadron already has a few screwballs so there was no harm in adding another. Besides, scuttlebutt's also said a few things about your own preferences."

"Now that's a tad unfair ma'am," McBride said, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly before she broke out laughing. "There's no way I'd be able to snag Adams, even ignoring the fact that he ranks me."

The UNE had long ago stopped trying to restrict fraternization within the ranks. Having people in confined quarters on long deployments made such efforts ultimately pointless. The only exception to this leniency however was when the involved parties were directly in each other's chain of command, meaning McBride was quite right about the impropriety of trying to go after Adams. For some reason Reynolds felt a bit of relief at her subordinate so readily declaring preemptive defeat. That relief turned quickly into confusion before ending up as irritation. Shaking herself, Reynolds grabbed her helmet.

"Alright ladies, let's get moving."

The two followed Reynolds out the lockers and proceeded to the hangers. To Reynolds' considerable surprise, every male pilot in her squadron was present and already waiting for them. All of them were also grinning way too much.

"I see you gentlemen were quite fleet of foot today," Reynolds said.

"Well LT, it's just that Adams here introduced us to a new tradition."

Reynolds' eyes narrowed as something tugged at her memory. "Oh? And what would this tradition be?"

"Well, according to the lieutenant, back at the academy, your training squad would always race to see how fast each of you could get into gear and whoever was last had to buy a round for the others the next time the squad went out. We all thought it was an excellent way to, motivate us to be more efficient gearing up and so decided the tradition should be continued."

Reynolds was now regarding Adams very coolly but she could not quite keep the laughter out of her eyes. "I see. And you gentlemen do understand that no one bothered to inform us of this new tradition, correct?"

"Of course LT! That's why this time we'll let all of you off. This was just a practice run."

"I see," Reynolds said, thinking back on how many times she had been last as a cadet. "Well, I suppose the tradition does serve some practical purpose. However, all traditions can stand some improvement. As such, I would suggest that we add an additional condition."

The men were no longer looking quite as smug.

"Uh, and what would that be, LT?"

"Well seeing as how I'm supposed to be setting a proper example for all of you, it should stand to reason that I should be able to get ready far quicker. As such, it will not simply be the last person arriving that needs to buy the squad a round, but anyone who arrives after me. I think it only fair that I aspire to set the standard after all."

Reynolds' smile was beatific while looks of wary respect spread across the men facing her. Adams however continued grinning and Reynolds could not help but shake her head. It appeared his humor truly was still intact. Adding him to the squadron might well be more interesting than she had originally envisioned. Yet somehow, Reynolds had no problem with that.

---

There was no air flow in space to cause turbulence yet that word perfectly described what Reynolds felt her fighter was buffeted as her squadron folded back into realspace. The micro-asteroids that pelted her ship made it shudder and shake but her shields absorbed most of the kinetic energy without any actual drain. It took a few moments for everyone to regain control over their respective craft and when they did they finally caught sight of the massive debris field before them.

Rocks and shards, some glowing from residual heat, littered the space about them. Further ahead was the planet itself, or what was left of it after half its mass was blasted away. This far out there were few asteroids large enough to seriously threaten their ships but it quickly became clear momentum was carrying larger chunks out at lethal velocities. As her squadron weaved around the outflowing debris, Reynolds brought up her active scanners to try to sort through the carnage.

"What the hell happened here? Where's the fleet?"

The answer to that question flowed across Reynolds' HUD and she felt her blood chill. Not only were her sensors picking up planetary debris, they were turning up fragments of alloys and composites that could only be from destroyed ships. Even worse, her computer was indicating a very high confidence level that they came from destroyed UNE ships.

"We lost the battle," Reynolds said. "Maybe even the war."

"But what could have caused this?"

"I don't know," Reynolds replied, "but we better damn well find out. All ships, recon pairs and spread out."

The squadron broke up into twos, one ship with active sensors and the other close enough to keep an eye on its charge but otherwise trying to remain discrete. As Reynolds continued sorting through the sensor readings even as she guided her fighter through the wreckage and debris, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"This can't be happening," Reynolds muttered.

The combined fleet that was supposed to advance on Taranto had more than a hundred capital ships. At best the Colonials might have managed to muster a fleet half the size to defend the shipyards, if they were willing to uncover every other critical station and pull any ships they might have had on offensive campaigns. While they might have managed to achieve numerical parity or even supremacy if their corvettes were counted, that still would not have been enough to defeat the combined UNE fleet in an open battle. Then there was the fact that the planet before them had been ripped to pieces. Based on the latest astronavigation charts Reynolds received at the last station the squadron stopped at, that planet was supposed to be cold, inhospitable, and intact.

Reality however did not care what the charts said about how things were supposed to be and Reynolds' sensors were doing a very good job conveying that point to her. All she saw was further confirmation that most of the rocky debris shared a similar composition and were therefore likely originally part of a larger whole, a whole that was significantly reduced in mass based on purely visual examination, and that the artificial wreckage almost certainly came from destroyed UNE ships.

The sinking feeling was starting to turn into something else entirely but Reynolds kept a firm lock on it. She could not allow herself to panic. She was the commanding officer on the spot and the rest of her squadron relied on her to get them through whatever the hell was going on.

The HUD beeped and a message scrolled across.

You okay?

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Reynolds said hurriedly and completely unconvincingly.

Veering to the left.

Looking ahead Reynolds saw that Adams was right, she had started veering a bit left of her plotted course.

"Acknowledged," Reynolds said. "Just, trying to make sense of everything I'm seeing."

Adams answered with a single click and let Reynolds to her thoughts once more. Having been woken however Reynolds did not let her attention wander trying to come up with explanations of what had happened. What mattered now was the present, and if there were any UNE ships left that could tell them what had happened.

The HUD beeped again and this time it was not a gentle prod from Adams. The beep grew into an alarm and the two pilots instinctively went evasive not a moment too soon. Fire from Colonial fighters streaked along their previous vector and Reynolds immediately tagged their attackers. Adams rolled his own fighter about, letting loose a stream of plasma against the incoming enemy. One ship's shields glowed red before burning out and the fighter blossomed a fiery red seconds later as the rest of Adams' salvo smashed into it.

Reynolds took a more forceful approach as her machineguns chewed through the enemy shield before she unleashed a missile at near point blank. So close in, the enemy pilot had no time to react before the missile struck his ship and blew it to pieces. The surviving fighters tried to maneuver around Reynolds and her wingman but could not get between the two. The moment an enemy managed to get behind one of them, the other would pounce and easily cut apart the supposed hunter. The Colonial pilots might have eventually figured out a way to break the pair formation but none lived long enough for that.

"That looks like all of them," Reynolds said. "Wait, sensors are picking up something else."

A bit further head, the scanners were picking up something a bit more active than the residual heat from the rocks. In fact, they matched the very same pattern that had just tried to kill Reynolds and her wingman.

"All fighters back on me," Reynolds ordered. "Reaper, let's haul ass. Someone else out there is shooting at something."

Adams clicked an acknowledgment and was right beside Reynolds as she gunned the thrusters. The two were quickly joined by other pairs and by the time their target came into sight half the squadron was assembled. There before them was a UNE frigate and a swarm of colonial fighters peppering it with plasma.

"IFF confirmed, it's the Mercury," Reynolds said. "Mercury, this is flight team leader Reynolds. What's your status?"

"Our fold drive is offline and our weapons are down," the response came. "We need more time to get them back up!"

"Acknowledged Mercury, we'll try to do something about those gnats. All fighters, weapons free!"

The UNE fighters charged forth and smashed through the colonial ranks. Reynolds found herself and Adams focused on the same target and their combined attention chewed through the enemy so quickly neither could be sure who fired the killing shot. Veering aside, Reynolds found a new victim and unleashed a flurry of machinegun rounds. The Colonial fighter jerked back outside of her field of fire but exploded moments later, having strayed right into a stream of plasma from her wingman. The rest of the squadron was equally efficient and every Colonial fighter that folded in simply became one more turkey to the slaughter. As weapons fire lit up from the frigate, it became more accurate to call them fish in a very small barrel.

"The Mercury is now fully operational," the captain announced.

Colonial fighters that had been trying to pull tight turns around the formerly derelict frigate now found themselves under a shower of plasma and flak. They did not last long and those lucky enough to escape the initial carnage were quickly pounced by Reynolds' squadron. The Colonials did not go down without a fight however as a single corvette suddenly folded in. It immediately unleashed a pair of torpedoes before swerving around to make a second run.

"Protect the Mercury," Reynolds ordered. "Do not let any torpedoes through!"

Even as the frigate turned to bring more point defenses to bear, a lone fighter charged with guns blazing. The skin of the torpedoes was pelted with rounds before they detonated in a fiery blast from which Adams' fighter burst forth. Dodging and weaving to avoid the corvette's fire, Adams let loose missile after missile even as he pounded the enemy ship with his plasma cannon. The first pair blew apart the rear turrets harrowing Adams while the others directly impacted on the hull. As Reynolds raced forth to support her wingman, she saw armor splinter and snap as the corvette succumbed to Adams' bombardment. A final missile broke through the armor and triggered containment failure in the corvette's reactor and the runaway reaction consumed the ship in a bright inferno.

"Area secure," Reynolds declared as the last of the Colonial ships either made a run for it or died trying. "Sir, what happened here?"

"Where to start? We'd gathered the fleet to meet the Colonials and win the war. But then they brought along a new toy and somehow disabled all of our systems. It was a slaughter. They stayed just long enough to test their new toy. Reynolds, they're headed to Earth."

Images of the same destruction being wrought upon Earth flashed through Reynolds' head. That even the Colonials could be capable of such an atrocity was unthinkable. But the carnage before them was proof that they really might do it, that they really might kill billions of innocent civilians.

"What do we do now sir?" Reynolds asked.

"Those fighters came from somewhere close. Reynolds, take your wingman and follow their folds back to see what they're up to."

"Understood sir." Reynolds switched over to the squadron frequency. "Alright, we have our marching orders. Reaper, we're going to see where those Cindies came from."

The pair of fighters peeled away from the frigate and flew to a sector mostly clear of debris before folding. With all the crap floating about it was almost unavoidable that they would fly into something while emerging on the other side but there was no reason they had to also fly into something folding out. As they reappeared, Reynolds' sensors picked up additional signatures ever so briefly before they blinked out.

"Mercury, we just spotted a few tin cans with escorts."

"Acknowledged. Follow them but do not engage."

"Understood. Alright, let's see where these Cindies are in such a hurry to go."

Despite the fact that the Colonials had to have detected her squadron, they did not move to engage. Instead after a few minutes spent clearing the asteroid field, all of the ships folded out. Locking onto the fold signature, Reynolds' computer worked out the approximate destination and fed it to the rest of the squadron. Once away from the larger rocks themselves, the fighters folded and emerged to see another UNE ship in trouble.

"Mercury, this is Reynolds, the Cindies are going after a carrier. I think it's the Arcadia."

"Acknowledged. Do what you can to hold them off, we're on our way."

"Alright Reaper, cover the carrier! Captain McCallum, this is Reynolds, hold on, cavalry's on the way."

For a second no answer came and Reynolds wondered if the Arcadia's captain was even still alive.

"Think even you might have trouble with this one Reynolds," a steady but clearly strained voice responded, definitively answering that point.

"Don't worry sir," Reynolds said. "We've got the Mercury incoming. We just need to hold out until then."

To Reynolds' immense relief moments later the rest of her squadron folded in. Her unit at full strength, they charged forth into the carnage. As a carrier Arcadia was simply too big for the colonial fighters to pick apart no matter how defenseless it was. That however was not their goal as they ducked and weaved, taking potshots at Arcadia's point defense turrets and keeping them occupied while the shoal of corvettes unleashed their deadly payloads.

"Focus on the corvettes," Reynolds ordered. "Don't let any of their torpedoes get through!"

Her wingman's response was to charge forth guns blazing. The first wave of torpedoes ignited as bullets smashed into them and Adams was then free to focus on the corvettes. Reynolds was right behind, doing her best to discourage anyone from taking advantage of Adams' reckless. Just as another fighter veered away from Adams' vector, a flat and hollow voice came over the radio.

Pincer top down, going top.

Despite the unnaturalness that still shook her Reynolds immediately understood what Adams was saying. She dipped her fighter down before pulling up to approach a corvette from its belly. Far above she could see the icon that represented Adams diving towards the same target. The corvette's rear turret swerved downward to meet Reynolds while bolts of plasma rose up to meet Adams. With its defenses divided, Reynolds had no problem rolling ahead of the weapons tracking and yet still maintain line of sight to achieve a lock. The missile blew off the flak turret, leaving the corvette's underside completely exposed as Reynolds peppered its hull with plasma. The corvette rolled, trying to reduce the surface area presented to its attackers but the effort bought it little protection as Reynolds locked on another missile.

Another explosion close to the corvette's head signaled the loss of its plasma turret but the ship was not yet completely defenseless. A single missile shot forth and was almost upon Adams before Reynolds even realized her wingman was the target. Her fear barely had time to spike before an EM burst erupted from Adams' ship and Reynolds' own datalink to his fighter was disrupted. Upon restoration however it became evident Adams had gotten the pulse off just in time as no damage was being reported by his systems.

Setting aside her relief, Reynolds opened fire and watched in satisfaction as the corvette's hull cracked. Its engines were offline and atmosphere was venting from numerous breaches. The corvette was an obvious mission kill and Reynolds swung around to deal with the remaining threats.

The surviving three corvettes had just launched another salvo of torpedoes but the rest of the squadron easily closed down the attack. They were also getting a handle on the waves of Colonial fighters, leaving Reynolds and Adams free to deal with the corvettes.

Going bottom.

With his intention declared, Adams accelerated towards their next target and Reynolds was mere moments behind in following. They repeated the pincer and the corvette's weapons were wrecked after the first pass. The second saw the two systematically dismantle the ship under a flurry of plasma.

"Reaper, the tin cans are bunching up," Reynolds said as they moved onto their next victim.

The two surviving corvettes were now flying as a pair, one upside down relative to the other so both sides would be covered equally by their weapons. With no easy way to approach, they were liable to be cut to pieces before they could get close enough to inflict any damage.

Lateral approach with missiles.

The suggestion made sense, but a corvette was still sturdy enough to require concentrated fire from a light craft to kill.

"How many you got?" Reynolds asked.

Twelve.

With Reynolds' fifteen they probably had enough to kill their current targets. There was however the risk that something nastier would be showing up.

"Alright, save your ammo," Reynolds ordered. "I'll take the lateral approach. You watch my back and try to deal with those turrets."

The moment Adams clicked in response Reynolds began her run and maneuvered her fighter to approach the enemy using one of them as a shield against the other. The corvettes began to shift formation to counter her attempt but the further one found itself under attack. So preoccupied, it could not offer any support to its partner as Reynolds let off missile after missile as quickly as she could acquire locks. The corvette rolled to angle more weapons at Reynolds but she hit the thrusters and kept pace. Even as explosions tore apart the corvette, it continued to spew fire defiantly until it was finally consumed by the overloading reactor.

With her target dead, Reynolds moved to join Adams only to find her wingman's opponent was also in its death throes. Somehow Adams had managed to so thoroughly shoot up the corvette the only thing that seemed to work was a lone plasma turret. A single missile from Reynolds silenced it and the follow up burst of plasma from both of them sealed the corvette's fate. Before Reynolds could celebrate however an alarm went off loudly and insistently.

"Oh hell, what now," Reynolds muttered as she recognized the tone.

Her ship's sensors were detecting an incoming fold event and a large one at that. Reynolds was not disappointed as suddenly a Colonial frigate burst out in a stream of blue light.

"Cindy cap ship!" Reynolds shouted over the radio.

Mere moments later another flash erupted and the Mercury emerged. Both frigates unleashed a salvo of torpedoes but the Colonials were still dead set on sinking the Arcadia.

"Reynolds, focus on the frigate's point defenses," McCallum ordered. "We can deal with the torpedoes."

"Yes sir," Reynolds acknowledged. "Alright, fighters, take out those flak turrets. We need to clear the way for Mercury's torpedoes."

Several members of her squadron peeled away from the Arcadia while others still hovered about protectively. The Colonial frigate was not making things any easier however as it filled the space around it with flak and plasma. Reynolds circled around it but could not find an opening to make an attack run without getting her fighter blown apart. The rest of her squadron seemed to be having the same conundrum, at least initially. As Mercury's first torpedo salvo neared its intended target, the Colonial frigate's turrets shifted focus to deal with the more immediate threat. The moment a vector of approach opened, Adams' fighter veered in. Bolts of plasma shot forth from his ship, accompanied by a rapid series of missiles. The port forward turret on the frigate exploded and the fire from the warship lessened ever so slightly. The rear turrets immediately swerved to deal with this impudent attacker, exactly what Reynolds was waiting for.

Even as the flak turrets poured fire upon Adams' fighter, Reynolds' own ship was coming in hard and fast. She smothered one turret with plasma while let off a missile for another. Somehow one of her targets survived sufficiently intact to turn back to face her but its extension to life turned out to be very brief. With three point defense turrets down, the frigate was now in dire straits as Mercury's second salvo arrived. The Colonial frigate's sole surviving forward turret managed a near miracle as it picked off three of the torpedoes but even its heroic effort was not enough. A single torpedo broke through and smashed into the forward hammerhead, ripping open the hull. Somehow its own torpedo tubes survived intact and the Colonial frigate responded with four of its own. Their intended victim however was far better covered and Reynolds did not even pay them any mind as she proceeded to blow off the frigate's missile turret just as Adams finished off the starboard forward plasma batteries.

With its defenses crippled, the frigate dipped downward and opened fire on the Mercury with its heavy plasma cannon. The UNE frigate was however far away enough that the bolts of plasma was already dissipating by the time they reached their target and the Mercury's armor shrugged off the scattered charges. That did not mean these attempts went unanswered however as Mercury replied in kind. The Colonial frigate's hull was in nowhere as good shape and even the dissipating plasma bolts managed to cause its armor to buckle. That would have been bad enough by itself but Mercury's third torpedo salvo was right behind and proceeded to pummel the Colonial frigate.

Unable to withstand much more punishment, the Colonial warship began turning away and presented its surviving weapons to the UNE forces to try to discourage pursuit. The half dozen fighters that proceeded to swarm it were indicative of its failure but none of the light craft packed the punch needed to deliver the killing blow. Even as the frigate lost the last of its point defenses, its core hull held long enough for it to disappear in a flash of light.

Bloody coward.

The text scrolled across Reynolds' HUD a few moments after the enemy frigate's escape and the lieutenant found she shared Adams' frustration. After everything that the Colonials had apparently done to the fleet, she wanted as much payback as possible.

"There's always next time," Reynolds said. "They won't be so lucky then."

And there would be a next time, Reynolds knew. If Captain Caro was right and the Colonials really were headed to Earth, then they needed to go after and try to stop them. Every member of the UNE Navy had sworn an oath to protect Earth and its people. They would fulfill that oath or die trying.

End of Chapter 1

When I started Honor, I wanted to reuse the overall theme of Adams being silent but do it in a creative manner. I ultimately settled on him having effectively lost his vocal chords due to injuries suffered in the line of duty. It was ultimately an experiment to see if I could convey a character's dialogue while having him basically not speak. By having Reynolds be the actual perspective character and thus provide readers with her thoughts and interpretations of Adams' hand signs, I think I succeeded.

In many ways Honor and Victory also helped establish the pattern where my main perspective characters happen to be strong and willful women. Since these two were the start of that pattern, there are a lot of rough edges still in their portrayal. The degree of subtlety that I've pulled off in later stories is nowhere as smooth here, and overall there are lots of things that could have been done better, and I arguably have gotten much better over time.