Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Turmoil Read online

  That afternoon, Tana Starr was walking with Enric Shae to Senator Dennix's office. This was going to be a very busy day for her, because Salvor had passed her a very interesting message from the Commander himself; the Primans were going to make a treaty overture to the Confederation, and Dennix was going to accept. Now they just needed to inform the senator of that fact.

  "So this will be big news, then?" asked Shae as they cleared the last security checkpoint on their way to the senator's office.

  "Incredibly," she replied, "and you'll have a part to play in it." She turned to catch his reaction; she needed to determine Shae's true loyalties. The Commander had made it clear that the Primans would have their own chosen puppet in charge of the Confederation, and if Senator Dennix at some point decided to not cooperate, they were prepared to help Shae make a bid for power or at the very least maintain his current position. That was, of course, if Shae seemed pliable enough in his convictions to make such a plan possible. There had initially been talk of replacing Dennix with a Priman in prosthetics, but any random thorough DNA scan would reveal the truth, so they'd have to depend on turncoats and accomplices for the time being.

  They arrived at the senator's door and Shae knocked, receiving a summons from the senator a heartbeat later. As Shae and Starr walked through the doors and down the deep maroon carpet runner to Dennix's desk, a trio of other senators on the Governing Committee were just getting up to leave. They showed no emotion towards her and Shae; Starr wondered if they ever craved the power the senator held, and how long he'd be able to keep it uncontested.

  "Ms. Starr, Enric," Dennix began as he got up from his desk to greet them. She knew he wouldn't have extended the courtesy if it was just her, but the senator had a soft spot for his underling.

  Without preamble, as was her style, Tana got right down to business. "I have news from the Commander, Senator," she began as the man resumed his seat. He appeared unconcerned, or at least gave that appearance as he began shuffling data cards and some hardcopy printouts.

  "Mmm," he said, most likely trying to make the point to her that he was a busy man. She would enjoy the look on his face when she broke the news.

  "This afternoon, you will receive an official communication from my people. It will contain an offer for a nonaggression pact which will keep our people from having to fight each other." As she paused for breath, he took the chance to interrupt.

  "What?" he said in surprise. "You're going to offer a treaty?"

  "Yes, and you will accept it with open arms and an appropriate speech about cooperation and tolerance."

  He looked startled, data cards and makework completely forgotten as he tried to wrap his brain around the implications of this news. What would it mean for him, and how would he deal with it?

  "The idea, of course," she continued, "is to prop up your standing as you deal with the situation. This also buys us time to push on to other areas of interest and not have to tie down significant numbers of units to deal with the Confederation. We avoid having to lose ships and personnel fighting you, since we'll declare a cease-fire for the armistice talks."

  "Which won't be real, of course," Dennix said darkly.

  "To a point, they will. We do want a cease-fire, but you and I know that eventually we will return and take control with you as our governor; that's our arrangement. We'll see what sort of terms to use when the time comes, but you'll get credit for a bloodless transition as we merge our peoples together."

  "Except it's not a merger," Dennix felt the need to remind her.

  "Of course not," Tana said reasonably. "It never was going to be." She gave a small sigh, the only sign of her growing frustration at the senator's need to play these games on a random basis. "Are you having second thoughts? Again?"

  "I'm just concerned for my people," Dennix replied woodenly.

  "Of course you are," Tana agreed. "And a cease-fire, followed by the peaceful assimilation of the Confederation into our jurisdiction, saves lives and material. Especially once the people of the galaxy admit that first of all we are in fact your creators, and second that to oppose us means annihilation."

  Dennix opened his mouth to speak, then shut it just as quickly, teeth clacking as he elected to not say something that no doubt would have made Tana even more disappointed that she was stuck with the man.

  "You'll send Enric as your emissary to us," Tana continued. "That way we'll be able to deal with somebody who knows what the real situation is. You will not send anybody else, and don't be maneuvered into taking a second person along or let Enric be replaced." She paused, a content look on her face. "Soon everything will be orderly and controlled, and you'll see how much easier life can be with our guidance."

  Dennix pondered Starr's words later that afternoon as he stared blankly at the statement Enric and his PR people had put together after the news broke that the Primans were offering to talk. The speech was slanted towards the idea that the Confederation had fought so hard that the Primans would rather not deal with them as a threat, and instead broker some sort of truce. Dennix knew the truth, which dampened his spirits as he saw spontaneous celebrations break out all over the planet. The people were so convinced he'd led them effectively that all other issues were forgotten for the moment: his backdoor power grab, government filled with yes-men who would keep him in control, his questionable and nontraditional micromanagement of the military, and even the issue of most of the Confederation's original government figures still being held captive somewhere after their kidnapping during the war's opening.

  None of it mattered today; people were trying to convince themselves that the Primans would let them be, never mind everything the enemy had done to this point.

  The angle for him, though, was much more complex. He intended to stay in power no matter who rose to the top when this was all over. If the Primans won, he'd rule as their proxy. If the Primans were defeated, he needed to keep the people convinced that anything good was his doing while anything bad was the incompetent or traitorous work of others.

  He wondered what Avenger was up to. If tradition held, they'd manage to find a way to cause him problems.

  The cruiser Cobalt hung in space as she readied to fire the sensor platform out of her #1 torpedo tube. The Confederation class of cruisers made up the bulk of the fleet; they were jacks-of-all-trades, with good shielding, numerous laser batteries and top-of-the-line sensors. The drawbacks were no fighters or large hangar bays and only two torpedo tubes forward and two aft. The space required for a hangar bay and more torpedo launchers was prohibitive, especially since the class wasn't designed for long term solo operations. As part of a fleet, where fire control was coordinated by a flagship and fighter cover was provided by carriers, it was a non issue. Out here alone, dropping sensor platforms out beyond the edge of a solar system that was possibly on the Primans short list of places to attack, it was less comforting.

  "Tube One ready and target waypoint transferred aboard," the weapons officer announced.

  Captain Maleen Rese strode from her chair back to the sensor and weapon stations at the rear of the bridge. The Drisk woman was almost middle-aged, though it was hard to tell. She had fiery red hair without a hint of gray, was in great shape and could keep up with any of her crew in the ship's gym no matter what the challenge or discipline. She'd lost her former ship, the cruiser Warrior, over Callidor while coming to the aid of Avenger after it had been shot out from underneath her. She'd helped make it possible for other ships to survive the Priman attack, but had suffered the worst fears of any captain; the loss of her ship.

  Now, once again in command of a cruiser, she was just as determined as ever to prove herself and avenge her ship's loss.

  "That's the last of them, then?" Rese asked as she glanced at the targeting information on a wall display above the weapons officer's head.

  "Yes, Captain," was the quick reply. "We've launched our entire compliment of mobile sensor platforms in a spherical formation around this system, with a few extr
as along the most likely avenues of approach. It should give us about an hour's warning of an inbound Priman force, since they'll have to drop out of hyperspace just inside the probes' detection area because of all the gravity wells around here. Once at sublight speeds, they can only go so fast, and we'll know what their plan of attack is."

  "Good work, Lieutenant," Rese said as she left the Qualin officer behind. She commended him on his way of thinking; he'd spoken about the attack as if it was going to happen and seemed to assume it was on the way. He was in the right mindset, because she knew one had to always assume the worst from the Primans.

  Now, if she only had a few destroyers to use as pickets that she could push even further out, she'd really have something. Oh well, you fight a war with what you have. There was also the old saying: You can wish in one hand and defecate in the other; which one do you think will fill up first?

  She stopped wishing for more ships and got back to studying the star charts and spacelanes in the Lemurian solar system.

  Representative Ravine sat hunched over the work table in her sparse quarters aboard Captain Vol's ship. As a Representative, especially one who would someday become Commander, she could have demanded more luxurious quarters, but had strived to remain as grounded and unattached as possible. She'd watched the former Commander, the now-Representative Velk, as he'd led her people in the opening days of the war and tried to emulate many of his mannerisms, among them a level of austerity. She felt it focused her more on the issues at hand. There were troubling rumors about Velk's early dismissal from the role of Commander, but even at her status she wasn't privy to much more information than that. Someday she'd be able to sate her curiosity, but not now.

  She pored over data pads, maps, intelligence reports, and ship dispositions. After examining her target list, she'd decided on the next location to check off her list; a small system called Lemuria. It was out of the way, but supported several high-tech industries that she felt would be worth investigating. She'd even gone so far as to alert the Keepers to send a ship so they could acquire the technology upon their conquest of the place.

  After discussing her plans with Captain Vol, he'd suggested they send in a scout or two to recon the system. Their task force itself would be delayed by three days as they waited for more ships to join them. In addition to the garrison force of two cruisers and a constellation of satellites the'd left over each pacified planet, they'd lost three to outright destruction and another four to damage in their tour of conquest over the course of five planets, a number Ravine considered to be an exceptionally low price to pay. After demonstrating that they were in control of the orbital altitudes over a planet, the Primans made a simple declaration: for the time being, the people would be allowed to carry on as before, plus or minus any conditions or equipment/technology they'd seen fit to regulate. If the people continued to behave until more forces arrived, they would be treated well enough. If the equipment left in orbit to monitor the planet discovered anything threatening, retribution would be swift and painful.

  Her people had tens of millions of their number, just waiting to get off the decrepit motherships and onto the Enkarran planets they'd hastily cleared out; they'd spent so long in the void planning for this day that her people had no shortage of willing fighters. Thus, even such a lowly task as manning an observation assignment over a third-rate conquered planet caused no real personnel issues; there were always volunteers. The hangup was actually ships, and while they'd set up their own shipyards and taken over several others, capital ship production still lagged behind need and personnel. Thus, she'd been promised more ships which would bring her up to twelve vessels, but she'd have to wait for them.

  Not that she wished for conflict that would winnow down her people's numbers, but she did secretly relish the idea of a trying battle, a fight that would truly test her and the captain. Perhaps these Lemurians would put up a better struggle once they realized what they could look forward to.

  Loren and Renner sat in silence in the immense kitchen of the Governor's mansion eating a light lunch. They'd adopted a routine over the last week; some sort of weapons or personal training in the morning, lunch somewhere convenient followed by an afternoon of going over intelligence data and reviewing what their superiors were able to accomplish the night before. After that, it was the inevitable state dinner followed by a late night shuttle run back up to Avenger for the night.

  Loren and his counterpart had a comfortable understanding; they were of much the same mind where it came to fighting the Primans. Even if their governments didn't agree, they made the effort to keep those two issues as separate as they could considering their jobs.

  "This sandwich is outstanding," Loren said as soon as he'd swallowed his bite, and he meant it. Some combination of the dressing and the meat of an indigenous Lemurian quadruped, it was delicious, filling, and to Loren's relief surprisingly healthy.

  Renner smiled. "Well, you can thank the Governor, I suppose. We raided his kitchen, after all. Though I guess if this war goes sour I could get a new job as a short-order cook." He took a thoughtful bite of his own sandwich.

  Loren, lunch finished, wiped the corners of his mouth and pushed his plate across the huge wooden prep table they were sitting at. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather flight jacket (an affectation he as XO was not going to give up willingly, even though he wasn't on flight status anymore) and pulled out a data pad, keying it to life.

  "Well, the fun part is over," Loren said sadly, looking longingly at the crumbs on his plate. "Guess it's back to business." He scrolled through the data downloaded to the device over the last few hours so he could summarize for Renner. "Let's see; no new Priman activity around here, but it looks like they've been pulling ships from a few occupied systems near here over the last few days. No sign of them anywhere else yet, so that could be cause for screaming and panic." He continued on, eyes darting around the screen as Renner finished, got up and moved both of their plates to the cleaning machine. "No real new offensive movements on their part, either, so it could quite possibly mean they're getting ready for something."

  "Wonderful," Renner replied deadpan as he resumed his place on the barstool-height chair next to Loren. "It's the anticipation that makes it all worthwhile." He used his thumbnail to pick at a spot on the edge of the counter where the wood of the butcherblock had begun to split; the building had been one of the first structures built when Lemuria had been settled, and the Governor's Mansion had been lovingly preserved.

  "You know," Renner began slowly, "word is out among the people that the Primans might come sniffing. There's nothing substantiated, of course, but you know how rumors and bad news spreads."

  "Faster than a sexually transmitted disease when the Navy comes to town," Loren said with a smile.

  Renner chuckled and saluted, then continued. "People have been asking if we're running an evac for the civilians. A few of the companies have already started packing up shop and planning to leave temporarily. The big defense firm that's working on that experimental Priman-detecting gear is sticking around, though I guess I don't know if that's a good thing."

  "You might want to suggest they get the hell out before the Primans arrive," Loren admitted.

  "In any case," Renner continued, "I've been asked to quietly take you up on the offer. The powers that be are hoping to provide the service but keep from making a big press release and dealing with the fallout for a few days yet, but we'd like to accept your offer of transport."

  Loren nodded seriously. He couldn't fully understand what it must feel like to be fleeing his home, but as someone whose entire planet had been infected with a Priman plague, he definitely empathized with the man. "I'll call the captain as soon as we're done here. We could have them on the surface loading people in six hours."

  "Thank you."

  Captain Rese gave a nod of approval as she watched the maneuvers taking place. The Lemurians only had a half dozen serviceable destroyers, and she'd be willing to t
ake on three of them at a time in her ship. The destroyers only mounted five laser batteries each with no torpedo armament, and her cruiser's eight laser batteries were more powerful, plus she had four torpedo tubes to add to the mix. Still, she wouldn't turn away the help, and they were definitely willing. They'd even sent up a squadron of twelve fighters, a less capable export version of Confed's own Talon.

  She'd run an ambush exercise, setting Cobalt and all of Avenger's fighters against all six Lemurian destroyers and their twelve fighters. Avenger had supplied a squadron of Talons and a squadron of Intruders, and since the Primans didn't have any equivalent to the Intruder as of yet, the bigger attack fighters were instructed to fight with their cannons; no simulated torpedo runs.

  The ambush was going well; the Lemurians had split their forces and lied in wait, reactors barely warm, along the general flight path Rese had proclaimed she'd be using. It was the most likely attack corridor for the Primans to use, so she figured they might as well practice as close to the real thing as possible. The other three destroyers had been pinging like mad with their active sensors, trying to detect Cobalt's emissions profile and then subtly shepherd her towards the destroyers who were ready to pounce.