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Lunar Approach, Sol System
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The Ragnarok was returning from the final frontier. The crew's thoughts were no longer focused on their past voyages, but their final destination. Behind them was their eight-month mission with the 1st Space Force Fleet, during which they explored strange new worlds, hunted down new life and ground down Imperial civilization. They had boldly gone where no Earthling had gone before.
It had left them exhausted, and they weren't safe yet.
"I always thought we'd have the run of our own system once we ran off the Imps. So much for Sol for Solars." Commander Luca Romano pointed out.
Captain Justin Mallory shared his executive officer's disappointment. For years they had scurried about in the inner solar system, forever in the shadow of the Empire. They should have had free reign of their home solar system after expelling the Imperial military from their backyard. Instead, they were sailing in under radio silence with their few surviving sensors on silent running status. Even their running lights were turned off.
"It's those damn invisible ships' fault. The skipper of the Fallujah told me one of them struck a Magnificent transport over New Ryloth just four days ago."
"Fucking bold bastards. They'll be here next. Maybe that's why they recalled us to Luna?"
"All of 2nd Fleet has been recalled rimward. Too many ships to keep resupplied at Kafrene Outpost, especially if they weren't planning on hitting New Thyfeeria and Nal Kuat again. Plus, we needed repairs." Mallory pointed out. His corvette had accidentally struck an ion mine at the start of the failed campaign to take the Kuat System. And while they had recovered enough of their power and operating systems in time to take part in the last stage of the battle that had unfolded there, the ship's ion drives had continued to give them fits ever since.
Because of this they had been ordered home. Every spaceport between Kafrene Outpost and the Sol System had been sabotaged or destroyed by the retreating Imperials during the first half of the year. As such the Ragnarok had to undertake a perilous two-week hyperspace journey home via the captured sections of the Bloodstripe Run.
Dangers, imagined or real, aside, there was something about a homecoming. The excitement among Mallory's crew was palpable. The most anticipatory part of coming home was reconnecting with the Confederate World Wide Web which had been gutted by an Imperial Mauler Virus in the days before the Battle of New Thyfeeria. The Ragnarok's only communication had been through the Space Force operations channel, which was reserved for official naval operations only. The damage caused by the ion mine had prevented the corvette from reconnecting with the network during the long journey home and the crew were eager to reconnect with their friends and loved ones.
"We're coming in on fumes. Are you sure Fleet doesn't want us to fill up at Venus before we dock at Luna?" Romano asked.
"Orders are orders. And ours were cut by this new Admiral Hollander herself." Mallory replied. He was curious about the origin of his orders. Perhaps the new Admiral wanted to award the Ragnarok for the destruction of the Flood. Or, more likely, she wanted every damaged ship from the recent battle removed in time for her new campaign coreward. Reminders of Admiral Akfar's failed advance on the Kuat System and the loss of the Lady Liberty were out of favor in the fighting 1st Fleet.
Mallory activated the PA system and prepared to address the crew of the Ragnarok. "Attention all hands. Welcome back home."
He paused as a cheer rose from the crew. "We are currently bypassing First Order Port Authority at Titan and should be arriving at Luna during the current watch. I expect us to be inspected by the CIA upon arrival, so bring all contraband music and paraphernalia to Airlock A for defenestration. But besides that, all leaves except designated watches are granted."
Another cheer raged from the guardians of the Ragnarok. The space sailors of his ship scrambled back to their rucks to purge their quarters of anything the Confederate Intelligence Agency would find offensive to the Earth's stringent social order. Banned material could result in anything from a rank reduction to prison time. The Confederacy seemed to rarely reward its loyal warriors, but it was always eager to take something away when it could.
Even fear of punishment wasn't enough to dampen the crew's spirits. The officers and guardians were jubilant. Drafted guardians dreamed of discharge and going home. They hoped for an end to the war. Officers could hold no such rosy prospects, but Mallory was as happy as the enlisted men at the chance to get some leave.
Mallory hung up the PA microphone and spoke to his XO. "Open the ship store and keep duty orders to a minimum so that everyone can take it easy on Luna."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"I'm going to need you to disembark the minute we land for a special duty."
"Captain?" Romano raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Go to Morisowa's restaurant. It's in the old Imperial Embassy district. I need you to book a reservation for a 240-man party."
"The crew is going to appreciate the gesture, sir. I assume an open bar?"
"Yes, have Morisowa put it on my tab. It might be tough to book. Several faster ships than ours were ordered back after the battle and their captains will probably be preparing similar homecomings." Mallory suggested.
"Isn't it strange no one was ordered to dock at any Earth port?" Romano pointed out an odd discrepancy. Without access to the internet, it was hard to discern any hidden meaning behind the deviation from standard orders.
"Probably security concerns with New Mandalore."
"God, I thought that bleeding sore would have been closed months ago. What the hell has the Army been doing while we've been out conquering half the known galaxy?" Romano groused.
"Focus on the party. Make sure Morisowa has a generous supply of liquor and beer." Mallory ordered as Luna and its infamous rings came into view. Earth was not far off. So close yet so far, the Captain thought as they cruised over the powdery surface towards Eagle Base, Luna's subterranean city.
The ship descended into a surface airlock port. A chappie robot on the surface guided them into their docking position with a pair of large illumination rods. The ship settled into her position next to the pressurized pier with a slight bump. As soon as they were docked the party was announced and the Ragnarok almost rocked with the joy of her crew. Lots were drawn to select the ten unlucky guardians who had to stay behind and guard the ship.
As soon as docking protocols were complete and the ship was secure in its moorings the airlocks were pressurized and opened with the surface pier. Before a single crewman could depart, they were boarded by several agents from the CIA, along with a squad of Legionnaires from the 3rd Legion. They quickly went to work scouring the ship for contraband, especially captured alien goods, weapons, flags and other paraphernalia. They confiscated several of the crew's personal cameras, diaries and logs.
Most of the Space Force Guardians glared as the agents prowled the ship, taking what they wanted, though none were foolish enough to voice any objection. Those dumb enough to criticize the enforcers of the Confederate line disappeared quickly.
The only crewman aboard the Ragnarok who did not appear concerned with the agents was Doctor Tensing. As Mallory watched one agent begin to tear a panel off a bulkhead in search of contraband, he saw Tensing cover his mouth with his hand to hide the smirk on his face.
Mallory could guess what was amusing his Chief Medical Officer. Scuttlebutt had it that Tensing had come into possession of an Imperial Combat Driver's helmet over a game of cards during their time on Ro-loo. Said helmets were a rare commodity and highly sought after by armor and weapon collectors across the Earth.
That possession of such materials was highly illegal didn't stop those with cash and influence from collecting such forbidden war trophies. If Lieutenant Tensing did have such a helmet, and it didn't get discovered, he'd soon have the dual satisfaction of having made out like a bandit on the black market while pulling a fast one on the annoying CIA agents and their Legionnaire dogs.
The leading agent of the boarding party was an officious officer by the name of Agent Planchet. As Mallory wondered how an intelligence service had somehow become responsible for security in the Confederacy, she addressed his ship's officers aboard the bridge. "Welcome back to the Sol System and a well-earned leave. I regret to inform you that you are confined to Luna during the duration of your leave."
"Agent, my crew was looking forward to reuniting with their families. We are due for a week of repairs at the minimum. Surely, some of them can return to Earth during our stay. We are all loyal Confederates." Mallory argued.
"Loyal? Says the man who had his finger on the trigger and didn't pull it?" Planchet gave him a sharp look as she referred to his actions twenty years ago. They had made him a hero but there were always those who wished he had wiped the Empire off of Mars when he had the chance. Even if it would have resulted in a complete BDZ by the Imperial Fleet over Earth. "That being said, the recent events inside the Kuat System have yet to be reported to the public, and the sudden influx of so many of your guardians into the public sphere could have catastrophic results on public opinion among the lower classes."
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Commander Romano asked.
The CIA agent glared, taking umbrage with Romano's tone. "When the success of Admiral Hollander's latest campaign is complete it will be easier to disclose ship losses, especially the Lady Liberty's. I should warn you that speaking of that ship's loss, as well as the four First Order Resurgents lost at New Thyfeeria, while on Luna will also have legal repercussions for anyone that breaks said regulations. Understood?" Planchet warned.
"Understood." Mallory simmered. Command was trying to bury the loss just as they had buried Admiral Akfar's career with reassignment to New Ryloth. His crew would play the game for now, but the catastrophe at New Thyfeeria couldn't be kept secret forever.
Once the CIA was satisfied their warning had sunk in and they had confiscated every damming piece of evidence they could find, they cleared the Ragnarok for disembarkation and left the corvette. As ordered, Commander Romano was the first to leave the ship, followed by the few guardians with families on Luna. Mallory led the majority of the ship's compliment off an hour later and told them to meet at Morisawa's later that night. Before disembarking Mallory noted Doctor Tensing leaving the medical wing with a knapsack tossed over his right shoulder. Tensing didn't say a word, but he smiled at his Captain, gave him a friendly wink, and moved to disembark with the rest of the crew.
Mallory didn't know if the Doctor was lucky or crazy.
Eagle Base was a bustling city underneath the light side of the moon's surface. Trams ran around the clock to substitute for the lack of motorized transport, while an artificial sky was projected onto the ceiling of the city, to give it the appearance of being on the surface. Since the war had begun, they had not only seized the abandoned Imperial Embassy neighborhood but expanded to allow almost three million 1st and 2nd class citizens homes inside the Earth's natural satellite. Menial work was performed by Chappie robots, and the only lower-class citizens allowed on Luna were 3rd classers earning their 2nd class citizenship through military service.
The streets were all uniform in appearance to reflect the spirit of Confederate conformity, and they all brimmed with guardians, army troopers and Legionnaires. Streets and sidewalks were jammed with vendors looking to separate returning soldiers and sailors from their hard-earned Confederate Dollars. Cineplexes showed several movies with titles such as Behind Imperial Lines, An Alien among Us, Vegas Sacrifice and The Force or the Great Lie. Mallory saw some of his guardians pass by on the other side of a street, each with a girl under their arm. It was as if the war was a million miles away. Well, in reality, with Mars in Confederate hands, it was even further than that.
Mallory's cell phone was reconnected to the internet through the military Wi-Fi on Luna, which only allowed him to be inundated in maintenance assessments from the base's repair crews swarming aboard the Ragnarok. They were gutting his sensor suite and purging his communication gear. Most of the ship's computers were being swapped out and the NaviComp was being updated with new upgrades from the start of the war until now regarding sailing hazards along the Bloodstripe Run. The shields were being tested for defects resulting from the ion mine and all weapons were going to go through extensive dry firing exercises while in port. He also had to sign approvals for restocking his ammunition and supplies. The initial wave of requests kept him busy until that evening when he was interrupted from his duties by Doctor Tensing, who found him sitting in one of the city's parks. All around him were kids playing on the low gravity playground, while teenagers on the basketball court practiced the latest TikTok dance promoted by Ministry of Communications approved influencers.
"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Commander Romano says you're not responding to your phone."
"Ah, yes. Duty calls and calls. Did he say if everything was set?" Mallory asked his subordinate.
"Aye. The shindig is on. Most of the crew have already arrived or are on their way to Morisawa's." Tensing reported.
"Lead the way." Mallory asked the medical officer.
When they arrived at Morisawa's the Asian-Cuisine restaurant was already packed with members of the Ragnarok's crew. The enlisted were all dressed in their blue dress fatigues while the officers were set apart in their grays. Every table was full and there was a long central table at the forefront of the restaurant occupied by Commander Romano and Mallory's senior staff, who beckoned him to join them at the seat of honor facing the entire crew.
There were only five servers to serve the entire party, along with a trio of overworked kitchen staff. They were harried enough just to keep the more than two hundred guardians supplied with food and drink. They eventually gave up on taking orders and brought plates of fried chicken, fish, noodles and ramen to every table. Rationing on Earth prevented pork and beef from reaching Luna in any great numbers. To add to their chores these few servers had to entertain the crew with karaoke and keeping clear of the crowded dance floor. But free-flowing drinks soon saturated the guests and many enlisted guardians were soon volunteering to help the servers. Someone even began playing contraband pre-war music, which caused Mallory and his officers to profess that they heard no such thing. Mallory's crew began to sing and dance to the melody of Master of Puppets by Metallica.
In the course of the evening practically every one of Mallory's guardians came before the head table to offer the Captain an individual toast. Mallory responded to every well-wisher. He had no idea how much he consumed in the process. Nothing but his rugged physique pulled him through the chain drinking that lasted well into the night.
It wasn't just his officers and crew who wished him well this evening. The party had more than its share of visitors from other ships, including several that outranked the Captain of the Ragnarok. A trio of men in Admirals' uniforms, as well as a bevy of Captains and Commanders, approached the head table. Mallory hadn't been expecting the visit and so was caught off guard to see his commander, Rear Admiral Cui Mengyao of Task Force 65, coming his way.
The entire table of officers snapped to attention and saluted. Not only did Mallory recognize Cui, but he also recognized Rear Admirals Petrova and Chiffonage accompanying him. Petrova was the first one to speak and offered his hand to Mallory. "We heard the man who sank the Flood was here tonight, Captain. Let me tell you what an honor it is to shake your hand."
"We were merely in the right place at the right time, sir. Any corvette skipper would have done the same." Mallory humbly accepted their praise.
"I doubt that." Chiffonage, another Revenge Task Force commander, stated. "Your tactics of running a cold ship to let the enemy close with you was epic. Something out of the Trojan War even. I've made my Captains read your report on the engagement several times. I dare say some of them have it memorized by now."
"We were just doing our duty, ma'am. Nothing compared to what Admiral Cui did at Plympto Blight." Mallory deferred to what so far had been the biggest Space Force victory over the Imperial Navy. A fight they had won without the help of the First Order.
"Yesterday's news, Captain." Admiral Cui sighed. "The President forgot everything we did after that girl broadcast her treason during the Roblin Raid."
"Bah. My children cause more damage at a Vengeance Day remembrance than the Empress's husband did with his little hit and run tactic." Admiral Petrova laughed. "And now poor Akfar is never going to get a chance to surpass your achievements, nor your own, Captain." Petrova told Cui and Mallory.
"Perhaps your trick could be the counter to Gentis's invisible ships. We could use any clue you can come up with to hit back at those bastards." Chiffonage suggested.
"Are they as bad as everyone says? We were with Akfar's assault force when one was detected at Kafrene Outpost. Damn thing told the entire Imperial Fleet to get set for us." Mallory asked.
"They're a thorn in our side. That much is certain, Captain." Petrova admitted. "2nd Fleet has been pulled back from Kafrene Outpost after the cancellation of Operation Matchstick and have been redeployed across both branches of the Confederate Hyper Route. And our new chief, Admiral Hollander, has conceded to the Trade Federation's demands that we form convoys to protect our transports heading coreward."
"Unfortunately, our Revenges are the best ships suited for such a duty." Chiffonage looked dour as she sipped a glass of champagne.
"Don't worry, Captain. Hollander has launched a new campaign aimed at Judicar, which is where my Task Force is heading. You're not being pulled from the fighting 1st just yet." Admiral Cui reassured Mallory who, in return, wondered if someone on Earth wanted him as far from their home world as possible. It wouldn't do for a war hero to be pulling more positive press than the President. "I want you to report to my office on the Giza tomorrow. That is, if you're still standing."
"I am fighting the good fight, Admiral." Mallory held up his glass of Irish whiskey.
"On that note, I've had my crew bring over something I confiscated on Ord Vairecant." Cui Mengyao turned and waved two fingers at several guardians at the entrance of the restaurant. The doors parted and ten guardians entered carrying large casks.
"What are they?" Romano asked. His curiosity and inebriation were getting the better of him.
"Mandallian Narcolethe. It's one step below ship fuel. They made it for alien giants and its potency is something to be seen." Cui said. As his men poured, he handed the first glass to Mallory. As soon as the first round was passed around the room, the Admiral held his own glass aloft. "To the Flood! May she be the first of her sisters to fall to our torpedoes."
His toast got a rousing cheer from the crew of the Ragnarok, who heartily drank their toast of alien alcohol. The misty, green liquor hit Mallory's stomach like a sonic depth charge. He wasn't the only one, as several of his officers entered into coughing fits from the powerful drink.
Cui put his hand on Mallory's shoulder to steady him. "I won't interrupt any more than I have to, Captain. Enjoy your evening and I look forward to our meeting tomorrow."
"I'll be there, Admiral." Mallory and Cui Mengyao exchanged sloppy salutes before the flag officers vacated the restaurant.
More drinks were exchanged. Guardians continued to sing old songs long since added to the Ministry of Culture's black list, from Prince's Let's Go Crazy to the Rolling Stone's Sympathy for the Devil. And yet no one came to chastise or arrest them for their crime. The restaurant staff soon realized the crew had done something special. Something that had not been reported and very quickly they were getting versions of the events told from nearly every station aboard the corvette during the Battle of New Thyfeeria. Mallory wondered how long the CIA could keep it a secret now that crews were returning from the front. He decided he wouldn't lose any sleep over the people of Earth learning the truth for a change.
"Captain, this guy says he knows you." Lieutenant Avery, the Ragnarok's second officer interrupted Mallory's personal musings.
Mallory turned to the younger man's interruption and was greeted by a face that he knew almost as well as his own. The features, though twenty years older, were etched by fire in the trenches of Las Vegas and the Ares Raid a lifetime ago. Dressed in the blue-gray camouflage fatigues of the Confederate Army and with the service patches that identified him as a doctor now, Indy Jones gifted him with the biggest smile Mallory had seen this side of New Ryloth. "Hey, Mal."
Mallory stepped forward and hugged his brother-in-arms. As young men they had forged a bond of friendship that would stand the test of ages. "Jones! What are you doing on Luna?"
The crew of the Ragnarok eyed the stranger with suspicion for his familiarity with their captain, until they saw the thick row of service ribbons and medals upon his chest and whispers of another Ares Raid survivor went through the crowd.
Jones looked at his old friend with a hopeful smile. "I'm heading to Titan. Part of an exchange program. The First Order is giving us tech and we're sending substitutes up to fill some holes in their rosters."
"What do they want an old war dog like you for?" Mallory asked his friend.
"I couldn't stay a medic forever. I can't keep up with these younger Rangers anymore. So, I finally finished my medical degree and now I'm being assigned to the Rage to study the 7th Fleet of Conquest's battlefield medical techniques. I just have to go through some kind of secret extra-training on Titan and then I'll be serving aboard an actual Star Destroyer. It's one of the First Order's little ones, but could you imagine such a thing twenty years ago?" Jones explained.
"Someone get this man a drink." Mallory called out. Doctor Tensing appeared at his side in an instant with two full glasses of Narcolethe.
Mallory took the drinks and motioned for his old friend to join him at the head table. The other officers quickly made room for the old Ranger. Jones smiled out at the merriment of Mallory's crew as they continued to celebrate their near homecoming. "We were like this when we came back from the Ares. Wonder if this is how Old Captain Jade felt watching us back then."
"She was our age, still is if she's still alive down in New Mandalore. And back then we were celebrating the end of a war, not the middle of one." Mallory replied.
"Maybe she saw this one coming. Though God only knows why she threw in with the Mandalorians and those Kiwi traitors." Jones chose to change the subject. Talking about their old commander where others could hear could quickly wind one up in front of a CIA Loyalty Board of Inquiry. "I'm eager to hear what it's like out beyond the Sol System. How is the drive down Confederate Hyper-Route 1? You switched over to Space Force, I know the Legions are occupying everything they can lay their power gloves on, but can the fleet control these vast areas and secure the ex-Imperial resources for Earth's empty factories?"
Mallory sipped the powerful drink while he contemplated his answer. With a friend of Jones's caliber there was no point in trying to hide the truth. "We have won a series of battles simply because the enemy out blundered us. You know as well as I do the immense production capabilities of the Empire. They've had twenty years to explore and develop a thousand virgin worlds. There is no room for optimism for Earth in this war."
Jones was visibly stunned by what Mallory had to say. Censorship was so complete that he was unaware of many of the facts of this war. "But the First Order is going to put us over the top. Their Star Destroyers are more advanced than the Empires' and we crippled their fleet at Nal Kuat."
Mallory wished he could have told Jones about New Thyfeeria. Four Resurgents and an Eiffel lost compared to the Empire's loss of a single forty-year-old Star Destroyer. The same size and model of the Rage, the Imperial class Star Destroyer Jones had just been assigned to. Every bit of intelligence he had come across showed this Fleet Admiral Gentis was rapidly rebuilding, upgrading and training a new fleet to stop them. The Confederacy had scraped and razed every usable material they could from Earth's surface. It would be a decade before they could gain the materials from the captured colonies to build more ships, and Mallory highly doubted Empress Phasma was going to allow them the time to do so.
The two friends caught up for several more minutes before Jones wished him well and excused himself. Mallory could tell his words troubled his old medic. He hoped to sail with the Rage again one day to check on his friend and see if his views of the war remained the same after seeing the war from the other side of the Bloodstripe.
Jones was not the only one at the party who had been troubled. Over the din of illicit music Mallory could make out scraps of conversation between Lieutenant Doggle, his Chief Engineer, and Lieutenant Avery. Doggle's girlfriend, who worked as a life support technician at Eagle Base, had lost her entire life savings in the Imperial Mauler Virus attack.
"She's taking it really bad man. Her dad worked for Amazon and he got wiped out too. Now he's probably going to get kicked out of his apartment." Mallory heard Doggle confess as he took another swig from his drink. "She's not the only one who got screwed. I heard from one of the dockworkers that people have been deliberately overdosing on pills back on Earth. I think she might do something crazy if I'm not there for her."
Mallory made no effort to reach out. It wasn't his place to interfere in the lives of his crewman, or reveal he'd been eavesdropping. But he hoped for Doggle's sake that his girlfriend would be alright.
Mallory did not stay to see the party let out. Inebriated, he let his officers stuff him into a fuel-cell, hover taxi and let it take him back to the Ragnarok where the Duty Chief stuffed him into his bunk still wearing his dress uniform and shoes.
When he woke up in the late morning of the next day, he could already sense the hangover was going to be a doozy. What the hell did the Mandallians put into their Narcolethe, he wondered as he downed several Ibuprofens and a large glass of water. He showered and put on new fatigues before settling into his office for work. A crewman brought up his breakfast from the galley.
Huge bundles of packages from home were brought on board, as well as almost a month's worth of e-mails and texts as the ship was brought back online with the Confederate Internet. Most of the mail was composed of comfort kits sent by relatives and other friendly civilians back on Earth, Luna, Mercury and even one from a guardian with a sister working in orbit over Venus.
When the guardian dropped off his breakfast of coffee, pancakes and eggs, she brought in several packages and letters as well. "Did you receive your mail, Specialist?"
"Yes, sir. I did." She beamed and turned around.
Mallory opened the letter and package from his parents first. His mom stated they were well and happy. A postscript, however, reported disturbing news, in an admittedly roundabout way. Your father and I went to Minneapolis to visit the Carringtons (You remember them, don't you? Their daughter Marcy works for a gallery contracted with the Ministry of Culture. She designed that beautiful portrait of you they use on the posters at the recruiting stations. I heard she is still single). Anyway, our housekeeper was away, and when she returned the door locks were broken and all our valuables were gone. The lower classes are getting out of control. Crime is skyrocketing. Luckily the President has promised more encompassing capital punishment for the Thirders and Fourthers. That should remind them of their place.
Mallory grimaced as he reread the letter. It was distressing. Not the robbery, in truth Mallory could have cared less about that. His parents were well off enough to replace anything they'd lost. Nor was he concerned about the unsubtle hint that his mom disapproved of her son's continued bachelorhood. It was his mother's last words that bothered him. Remind them of their place. His mom was from a good family, and before the Empire-Earth War she had been a member of a half dozen various social causes.
His uncle Mike had always jokingly referred to her as 'Soapbox Sadie' and marveled that his brother, Mallory's father, could have ended up with a woman like her. Indeed, the long history of military service in the Mallory family had been a sticking point for his mother, who had abhorred violence, guns, and the people who used them.
Mallory smiled briefly as he remembered the verbal duels she and Uncle Mike would get into. Every Thanksgiving felt like World War III. And to her credit his mother gave as good as she got. There had been no vitriol though in their arguments. If anything, his mom had relished the opportunity to take on her brother-in-law.
She had been a checklist leftist activist in her college days and had held onto those beliefs well into middle age. If there was someone or some group that was claiming to be oppressed, she could be guaranteed to be speaking in their favor, claiming to know what was best for them. She had even been a strong backer of the rise of the great Unions that had been the predecessors of the Confederacy in the twenties. To her and those like her they were meant to be a means of integrating and harmonizing disparate nations, paving the way for greater peace, racial equality, and economic justice.
Her worldview died a quick death on March 10, 2039. For all her campaigning and sloganeering she had never had a brush with real hardship. After all, her parents had been shrewd, hardworking people, she had married a shrewd, hardworking man, and she believed that she was as shrewd and hardworking as they were. They didn't have money in the stock market, and they didn't spend more than they had to, so the idea of being destitute had been purely academic for her. The closest thing to poverty she'd ever seen had been a homeless man she had driven past once in Detroit.
She, like so many others, had lost practically everything when the Empire-Earth War began. Life in the refugee camps had been a desperate struggle for survival. Every cough and sneeze instilled fear that the dreaded Martian Plague had arrived and would soon kill them all. The freezing winter and the lack of food had taken their toll on what fortitude his mother had possessed. Watching her young daughter waste away, while her husband worked himself to the bone endlessly clearing the rubble, had almost been too much to bear.
Mallory suspected that the death of his brother Cale had been the straw that had broken his mother's back. She'd never said anything to him about it, but years later his father had confessed to him when they were alone that the camp had changed her irrevocably. She had lost so much and became increasingly possessive about what little she still had left. In her own mind now, no one had been victimized more than her.
The Mallory family had grown rich in the years after the war. The experience and innovations his father had developed salvaging the ruins of Detroit bought him the opportunity to gain his fortune starting up his own salvage and construction company. Mallory's own deciding role in the end of the war had further boosted their family's social credit. They were the cream of the 1st class now, and Mallory's mother had been eager to show it.
She bragged often to her new, elite friends about the good fortune that had been bestowed upon the family. Where once she had spoken dismissively of the military as 'war-mongers' and derided businessmen as 'fat-cats' she now extolled the virtues of her son, the career military man, and her husband, the burgeoning industrialist, who were working hard in the fight to protect the most victimized people in history; the people of the Earth in the struggle against the Empire.
What she had to say of the third and fourth classes was decidedly less charitable. "They're not as smart as we are. Not as dedicated." He'd once overheard her say to one of her friends. "We lost everything in the war. But we survived and even managed to claw our way back to where we were. They're just not trying hard enough. My Justin has done his part to tear down the systemic oppression the Empire wants to enforce. But these Third-class people, most of them are so problematic. They care only about themselves. No regard whatsoever for the movement our President is trying to construct." Mallory threw the letter aside. His mother's words made him feel ill. In his anxiety he pounded his mug of coffee.
The second package was from his sister. It contained the squadron patch of an Imperial Pilot from the famed 666th Wing. In her attached letter she explained that someone on Kafrene Outpost was making a small fortune making counterfeit copies of these things. Supposedly new Legions were arriving for a new campaign and the previous soldiers were conning them out of every Confederate dollar they could. She hadn't been able to reunite with the Ragnarok after New Thyfeeria and she and Lieutenant Moon were awaiting new orders on Kafrene. She described it as a frozen hell with towering obsidian mountains covered in man-sized drifts of snow. It was worse than anything the siblings had experienced on Earth. They should know, he thought, they had grown up along the Canadian border and winters had been severe, especially after the war with the Empire had reversed global warming and almost thrust the Earth into a new ice age. He resolved again to put in a request to get her and Moon reassigned back to his ship. The Ragnarok was in desperate need of experienced scouts, and it wouldn't do for his corvette to be separated from its X-1s by a thousand parsecs.
The last package was from Perth, Australia and Mallory knew by the childish handwriting of its sender that it was a 'comfort kit'. Confederate school children made these little gift packages on their own and sent them with a note to some unknown service person at the front. Mallory's package yielded a set of picture postcards of the famed Australian Outback, a sketch by the sender of a kangaroo, a pencil set with the name of a school stenciled on it and a letter pad. An accompanying note read: I'm a nine-year-old schoolgirl in Perth. My name is Rey. All of us children here are studying hard. We sincerely pray you will fight hard for the sake of our President and the Confederacy of Earth Nations.
This was the only heartening message of the day and actually relieved Mallory's burgeoning hangover slightly. He opened his computer and began writing, first to the e-mail of the unknown Perth girl. My dear young Lady. Thank you very much for your kind comfort kit. I am the commanding officer of a Revenge-class corvette in the Space Force. I am grateful and happy to receive your good wishes . . .
He said a few encouraging words to keep up her studies and stay safe. Then gave her his Space Force e-mail address if she and her classmates had any questions about the Ragnarok and her crew. Though it was against regulations for any personal adornments of quarters he hung the postcards and picture of the kangaroo on the wall of his small quarters.
Mallory didn't know what to write back to his various family members just yet. Hopefully, he'd be reunited with his sister in a few weeks, anyways. He spent the rest of the morning inspecting the resupply of his ship as a tanker from Venus had parked alongside his corvette on the pressurized surface pier and begun refilling their near-empty fuel tanks.
For his appointment at the Luna Fleet Headquarters he had to request transport from the base's motor pool, which sent over a driver in a 2056 Tesla Model Y painted in a gray Lunar camouflage scheme. The vehicle had a small monitor in the back seat which was tuned to the Confederate News Network. To Mallory's disappointment he couldn't find a power button on the device.
He tried to watch the city of Eagle Base pass by as a distraction. Lunatics, as people who lived on the moon were jokingly called, were walking or bicycling their clean, green-energy streets peacefully. The girls with their elaborately dyed hairdos and bright ribbons and the men with brilliantly pomaded hair marking them all as 2nd Classers with a few elite 1st Class among them. It was surprising to note they all wore heavy, knee-high boots. On Earth the footwear would have been prohibitive but here in the lower gravity of Luna's struggling inertia dampers it was the fashion.
Mallory was intrigued by the native Lunatic scene and was barely listening when the CNN report switched from the news that the massive labor strike in Bulgaria had been inspired by the Priscilla Mayhew broadcast to another story of a bombing in Lima, Peru that had killed three 1st Class citizens and a dozen others. Somebody calling themselves Clan Howzer was claiming responsibility for that one from the safety of New Mandalore. Mallory's attention only slightly increased when the news changed to sports scores from the All-Confederacy Baseball League. He was disappointed to hear that his Detroit Tigers had gotten trounced by the club from Havana, leaving them four games behind the division leaders from Tokyo.
The base headquarters was secured by several heavily armed Confederate Marines. Their branch was so small, being superseded by the ascendant Legions, that Mallory didn't even recognize them at first. He flashed his Identicard and was waved inside the building.
Luna was a massive hub of Space Force and was the headquarters of 2nd Fleet and its nearly four hundred starships and attached Legions. As such several dozen Admirals and senior Captains had their offices on the moon. Mallory found himself standing before a door, whose LED sign read Rear Admiral Cui Mengyao, Commander TaskForce 65, CENN Giza. Mallory wondered where the Admiral's adjutant was as he raised his hand to knock.
He didn't need to bother as a voice came from within. "Get in here, Captain."
Mallory entered the room to see the Admiral hard at work behind his desk. A painting of the Chinese takeover of Taiwan hung on the wall behind him. Supposedly he had been a young Chinese officer when the People's Liberation Army had taken the island unopposed. Mallory wasn't sure as his pre-Imperial history was a little fuzzy.
"How's the head, Captain?" Cui motioned for him to take the seat across the desk from him. "Narcolethe doesn't play around."
"No, it sure doesn't, sir." Mallory took his chair and removed his service cap.
The Admiral turned away from his computer and looked at Mallory without saying anything for several seconds. "The Flood. What did it feel like to take down that big fucker?"
"I wish I could say it was spectacular, but I've seen ships crack apart before. My guardians enjoyed it, but for me it was one more step in pushing the Empire away from Earth." Mallory admitted.
"Your sense of duty is commendable." Cui complimented him.
"I fear it wasn't enough to end the war." Mallory shrugged.
"No, it wasn't. And the results of that terrible day did more to benefit our enemies. The loss of the Lady Liberty was terrible, and god knows how many the First Order lost aboard their ships."
"We didn't recover many. I wish we could have but the area was prowling with those invisible ships; and the Empire could have struck again from Nal Kuat and New Thyfeeria. Admiral Akfar was wise to call the retreat when he did."
"Not even Admiral Jethran complained about that. The First Order has been licking their wounds up on Titan. Their Supreme Leader hasn't even offered any of their ships to assist in the new campaign. And they still expect us to hand over the Kuat System to them when this war is over."
"They fought bravely at New Thyfeeria. We would have never gotten the Flood if they hadn't crippled her first." Mallory admitted.
"That may be, but I'd rather focus on your cold running tactic. We are instigating it throughout the fleet as a viable tactic against Imperial capital ships."
"I still think mass attacks with our torpedoes has the desirable effect. We outrange the Imperial models."
"But not their blasters. That way could cost us a lot of Revenges in a stand-up fight with a Star Destroyer. And your maneuver at New Thyfeeria could be the counter we've been looking for against their stealth ships. That you thought of it at the spur of the moment when we were at a critical point in the battle is a credit to you and your crew." Cui stated.
Mallory wondered if he had been called here to be rewarded. Due to his celebrity status and prior service aboard the Ares he was already a 1st Class citizen. Was he to be given a bigger ship to command? He had come to love the Ragnarok and knew her well, but he would serve his planet wherever they sent him.
Cui Mengyao activated his computer and entered a series of commands. Mallory received a file on his command phone. The Admiral allowed him to open it. "Speaking of your crew."
Mallory's eyes narrowed in anger and concern as he read through the files. "This must be eighty percent of my men."
"Ninety if my earlier count was correct. The ship transfers were transmitted to your officers and guardians at the same time I sent the complete list to you. Some of them will be required to report to their new assignments by tomorrow's watch.
"All of them are being assigned to Revenges at the front. Why not transfer them back to training positions back at Space Force command in Sydney? They deserve to go back to Earth."
"We need their cold running and torpedo expertise among our fighting ships. Now more than ever. 2nd Fleet has been pulled back to cover the convoys supplying the captured territories. The 1st Fleet at the front is going to need every advantage it can get to continue our drive towards Palpatine Prime."
"Some of my best officers are on here; Tensing, Avery. I get to keep Commander Romano I see." Mallory pointed out.
"Not exactly. What is your opinion of the Commander? Is he ready for a ship of his own?"
"More than ready. His service record is impeccable, and he's taught me nearly everything I know about leading a crew of my own." Mallory admitted.
"Exactly my assessment of the man, as well. That's why I'm bumping him up to Captain and giving him the Ragnarok."
Mallory wanted to scream. How could they take his ship? Instead, he kept it professional. "He's earned it. His service history stretches back to the European Surface Navy. He's been in space for twenty years."
"Almost as long as you. And don't give me that face. We haven't forgotten about you." Cui caused Mallory to lean forward in anticipation. Perhaps he'd be given a Europe frigate, or a Naruto light-cruiser.
"I'm taking the 65th Task Force back to Kafrene Outpost in a week. We're escorting the 14th Legion and sixty thousand civilian contractors coreward for next month's anticipated assault on Judicar. We're only waiting for Hollander to secure an airfield within bombing range on a planet one system coreward of Kafrene. The 34th's already taken the world. And we will be moving in three entire wings of Y-3s and B-1s in about two weeks. I want to be back there when Hollander kicks off her party."
"Rather be with the fighting 1st than playing convoy nurse maid with the 2nd, Admiral?" Mallory asked.
"Precisely. I sense you are a man of similar desires."
"I see myself as a man of action."
"Very good. Everyone in the fleet knows what you did at New Thyfeeria, but unfortunately, we are not ready to disclose our losses to the rest of the Confederacy just yet. As such, it would be conspicuous to give one of our Revenge captains a substantial assignment or promotion right now. But luckily for you, my Task Force is down one flotilla commander."
"A commodore?" Mallory referred to the unofficial rank that befitted a commander of a small squadron.
"How do you feel about taking the Barborossa, Frontiers and Chickamauga under your command? You can retain the Ragnarok as your flagship, of course. You will be slated as Corvette Squadron 22, and you'll be back at the front." Cui Mengyao offered.
"I'd rather be there stirring things up than back here waiting for things to happen. As for the ships, I know Chickamauga was at that slip up at Waypoint 16, but I have no idea where Barborossa and Frontiers have been since the war kicked off. I remember Captain Pierce of the Frontiers from Command School, but we were both fresh boots out of the last war back then."
"Barborossa is commanded by Captain Gospic. One of my more dependable commanders. And Captain Sildor has the Chickamauga after her first captain was killed at Waypoint 16, so he's still pretty green. I'm depending on you to whip them all into a fighting squadron. If not, well then . . ." Cui let his warning hang in the air.
Mallory finished it for him. "Convoy duty."
"Unfortunately. And no one is going to make their careers keeping the Trade Federation safe and cozy."
"I welcome the opportunity. I especially appreciate staying with the Ragnarok, though I'm sure I'm going to have my hands full training the new crew while we head back to Kafrene Outpost. I just have one favor to ask."
"Your sister?" The Admiral must have been reading his thoughts.
"Aye, sir. The Ragnarok was separated from her two recon birds since New Thyfeeria. We flew solo back here to Luna and need a new pair of scouts. I figured we were already familiar with the two Moxxi pilots, my sister and Lieutenant Moon."
"Unfortunately, I can't help you right now. Admiral Hollander is keeping every single veteran pilot we've got at the forefront of the advance. Plus, the Trade Federation is screaming about the cost of carrying so much freight coreward that almost nothing comes rimward anymore. New troops just have to stay out there for the duration."
"What about training? Wouldn't veteran pilots have more experience to share than simulators?" Mallory asked.
"You would think so, but that's the way it is for now. Sydney is going to send you up two new pilots along with fresh X-1s. They should be here on Luna by tomorrow. If they're not, let me know and I'll find out who's responsible."
Mallory was disappointed not to have his sister under his wing again. But it sounded like he was heading in her direction once more, and there was no one he could think of that would stand in the way of a transfer once they docked at Kafrene Outpost.
Mallory spent the next two hours with the Admiral. Cui Mengyao was especially keen to pick his brains on counters for the Empire's invisible starships and the cold running torpedo trap he used against the Flood. Mallory was able to take some choice recruits for the Ragnarok to replace the ones he was losing. Nothing changed the fact that they were still noobs, he feared. Admiral Cui went over how they were to deploy the 22nd Flotilla among Task Force 65 and the random route they would take to avoid the established shipping lanes prowled by the Empire's new hidden hunters. Mallory couldn't wait to get away from the detachment and denial he felt from the citizens of Luna.
The next few days were a bustle of activity and fond farewells as the reassigned gathered their things and shipped out to join dozens of warships coreward of the Sol System. Many of them wanted holographic selfies with Mallory to prove to their families and friends back home that they had served under the famed Hero of the Confederacy. As for the new arrivals, every time he turned around a new face was manning a station where an old comrade had once sat. They all stared wide-eyed at their new ship, and only a handful had served off of Earth, let alone on a corvette. All of which was a recipe for trouble.
It didn't make its appearance until three days later, after the old crew had completely disembarked and the new recruits were being put through their paces at a breakneck speed by the newly promoted Captain Romano.
The three other Revenge corvettes had taken their berths along the same pressurized dock as the Ragnarok, and Mallory had been returning from a lengthy inspection of the Frontiers, when he passed by the ship's Sensor Control Center and heard angry shouts and the sound of someone being hit. Mallory had been on the way to the bridge to confer with Captain Romano but stuck his head inside the advanced battlefield control center to investigate the disturbance. There Lieutenant Tallon, the new gunnery officer, was ranting at a guardian. As the hapless man stood there penitently, Tallon hit him, blow after blow, with her fist. Mallory was astonished.
"What's going on?" Mallory demanded.
Tallon turned toward Mallory and snapped to attention, her eyes still glowing with rage. "Captain, this man saw me but failed to salute," She sputtered. "I am disciplining him."
"Is that right?" Mallory turned to the Specialist.
"That is correct, sir." He replied shamefully in a thick Indian accent. His face flushed from the beating he had taken.
Mallory dismissed the guardian with a stern warning, and then turned to Tallon. "Come with me, Lieutenant."
She looked bewildered but followed Mallory without saying a word. A small section of the navigation section had been walled off for his commodore's office. Mallory closed the door of the office and offered Tallon, standing at ramrod attention, a chair.
"Where are you from, Tallon?" Mallory asked.
"My family is from Cairo, sir."
"This is a man-to-man talk, not between a skipper and his gunnery officer. I don't want to criticize you or defend this sloppy guardian. But I must make it clear that I do not subscribe to the maintenance of discipline by physical punishment aboard any of my ships."
"But . . ." Tallon looked confused.
"But what? You may speak freely."
"I'm a 2nd Classer. Born into it. My father works with the Banking Clan. The man was a filthy Thirder. The President said the only way to defeat the Empire is to maintain the Confederate class system."
"People weren't hitting each other in the streets last time I was back on Earth. There were riots sure, but the Legions were checking those." Mallory stated.
"The riots have gotten worse ever since that alien girl broadcast her message during that raid a few months ago. And the Legions are almost all gone now. The Army keeps a lid on things and they're all like that guardian; sloppy. You're an elite 1st Class, sir. Surely, you understand the need to keep the lower classes in their place."
"I do not know what the policies are on Earth at the moment, but it is my belief that a corvette crew must maintain perfect teamwork if they are to fight most efficiently. The 240 guardians and officers of this starship must work as one man. They must be knit together in real harmony and friendship." Mallory stared down the junior officer.
Tallon saw what Mallory was driving at. She looked down unhappily, but not without showing disagreement.
"Maintenance of good teamwork and proper order is not easy. But I have done it without resorting to corporal punishment. My results against the Flood speak for themselves. It is hard, but worthwhile. If it is too hard for you, report to me for a decision the next time you are faced with a disciplinary action. And forget the class system while aboard my ships. There's only officers and guardians here. That's how we beat the Empire."
Tallon kept looking down in silence. Mallory rang the intercom and asked the deck officer to summon Captain Romano and the three other department heads aboard the Ragnarok. Except for Romano, all of them were new to Mallory's command. Lieutenant Fujisawa, the Chief Hyperdrive Engineer, Lieutenant Johannesson, Chief Proton Torpedo officer, and Lieutenant Marquez, Chief Celestial Navigator, quickly came to the office. Romano, being on the bridge, only had to travel one hatch down from his station. They stood at attention, apparently alarmed at the sudden call. "I have just seen Tallon strike a guardian." Mallory said. "Since she did this in the open, I conclude that such things are taking place generally on this ship. Neither I, nor Captain Romano, will tolerate physical beatings of our crewmen. I don't care what is happening back in ports on Earth or Mars or here on Luna. It must stop as of this moment. You have your orders."
The officers withdrew, leaving a bad taste in Mallory's mouth. He was helplessly angry. With his crewmen living under such conditions, how could he possibly build the kind of teamwork needed for the important operations that confronted them? Worse yet, if the lower classes were living under such conditions back on Earth, how much longer could the President keep the whole thing together.
He wondered just who the real enemy of Earth was anymore. Yet as the flotilla joined the rest of the 65th Task Force and set their course coreward towards Kafrene Outpost, he didn't have any more answers than when he started. Instead, he was haunted by an even more important question.
How am I going to face the Empire with an unbloodied crew?
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Up Next- We Need a Ship
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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, dear readers and reviewers. Hope you enjoy the extra chapter this month. Also HMTE has added Tarkin's Fist and its main characters to the TV-Tropes website. Please check it out and have a happy New Year