Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Read online

  “So,” she heard Garrett say from a few feet away. “How’d you get in?”

  “You first.” she said with a grin.

  “A clever combination of bribes, hiding in a dirty ventilation system, and some skill with electronic locks.”

  “Well, I also am using some electronic trickery; I can see in the dark, and leap tall perimeter fences in a single bound.” She said it like she was joking, but the truth was easier to use and keep track of over the long term.

  “Amazing. You’ll have to teach a class. I’d sign up.”

  Halley could see through the window on her system that she was using to monitor him that, even as he bantered, he was cleaning up any traces of his presence. She gave him two minutes before he would be ready to leave, about the same as her own estimate.

  “Are we still on for lunch tomorrow, then?”

  “Halley, would you care to also add in a late dinner tonight? I haven’t eaten since lunch, and corporate espionage really gives me a powerful hunger. And yes, our meeting tomorrow is still on, though I’m going to take a wild guess and say it has something to do with your presence here tonight.”

  He was forward, asking for a date, she had to give him that. He would probably provide some interesting conversation, though thoughts of anything more didn’t come into play. At this point, he was a business contact, maybe someday an associate against the Primans. And there was the nagging thought that Web would be very disappointed if she didn’t give him a decent chance first…

  “It would make a great alibi if we were both seen somewhere public as soon as possible after leaving here,” she admitted. “Though don’t think that you’ve earned anything special from me just because you have a few useful skills.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it. Besides, you’d probably want a discount if we were dating, wouldn’t you?”

  “That question will forever haunt you, then. How are you getting out?”

  Garrett looked at his watch, then spoke. “I have a window of ten minutes going back out the way I came in. Once I leave here, I’ll be on the street ten minutes after that. You?”

  “Close enough. I plan to stay low-key, but I have a distraction on deck that would cover me if need be. It’ll cause quite a commotion, so I’ll give you a two minute head start just in case.”

  “Alright then, I’m ready. How about a meet at the Night Out? They have an excellent menu available all night long.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll still need the regular meet tomorrow afternoon, but a meal would be nice. Good luck,” she said as she, too, turned to leave the lab.

  Avenger, on patrol with two destroyers as part of a task force assigned to the Ninth Fleet , was in full stealth mode monitoring a spacelane while the destroyers orbited nearby. The idea was that if the Primans decided to try and jump the destroyers, Avenger could swoop in behind them and ambush them with a torpedo barrage. Fortunately, things were quiet. Quiet enough, in fact, that Captain Elco had left the bridge to XO Shae while he retired to his cabin to catch up on the mountains of paperwork that awaited him. With no enemy action in the last few days, he would be hard pressed to use combat as an excuse to not have reports filed, and finally relented to the inevitable.

  He first consulted his to-do list, noting with some satisfaction that he had checked off more than half the list. Among that number was to have a talk with Enric Shae. Loren Stone had finally approached him the day before about the XO. Elco knew there was tension, but frankly left it on the back burner in the hopes they would eventually learn to get along. He’d been watching, however, and knew the situation favored Captain Stone. He had talked to Shae and suggested, in as diplomatic a way as possible, that he stop playing games with the pilots. Now he had to wait and see what happened next.

  He was into the zone now, composing one report in his mind while reviewing department reports from his officers onboard Avenger, when his comm tone chimed. It actually startled him a bit, and he found himself angered and grumbling about having his concentration broken as he stabbed the ‘receive’ button with his finger.

  “Captain here, go ahead.”

  “Sir,” he recognized the communications tech’s voice. She had been promoted since the war began, and the Qualin had proven to be a steady and calm center in the chaos of a battle. “We are receiving an urgent request for a conference from Fleet Admiral Privac. They are syncing up for a conference in five minutes.”

  “Alright, thanks,” Elco sighed, trying to not let it show but doubting he pulled it off. “Send it down here when you’re ready.”

  He cut the transmission and tried to not think violent thoughts. He looked at his diminished but still substantial pile of data cards and files, realizing that he’d never get anything of value accomplished in the four minutes he had left. He contented himself instead with tidying up his desk area, in the hopes of at least giving the illusion of being in control of his situation.

  In no time, his monitor (he preferred to use the monitor and not the holo projector lately- the holo took up too much desk space) flashed the Confederation Navy crest and then flicked over to a screen split into four images; his friend and commander of the Ninth Fleet Admiral Illam, Fleet Admiral Privac, and two other flag rank officers he didn’t recognize. His computer had displayed the four people that the incoming transmission’s data tag had marked, but by looking at the data block on the bottom of the screen he could see that every captain of the Ninth Fleet as well as several other ships loosely assigned to the Ninth were monitoring, as well. This must be big.

  “Captains, I have a mission we’ve been proposing for a while now, and I’d like to hand it off to the Ninth Fleet to gameplan and see if you can come up with something,” the Admiral began without preamble. “Normally I wouldn’t be so abrupt, but my techs say I have five minutes or less if we want to keep this transmission from being decoded by the Primans. In short, we are planning an Op to attempt to recapture the Delos System. There are plenty of risks, so we’re working on contingencies in case things don’t go as planned; primarily, we would need to destroy a Confederation research facility on Delos if our attack force fails. It contains advanced weapons and technology that the Primans can’t be allowed to get their hands on. Before you ask the obvious, we have no reason to believe the Primans know about this facility or have taken control of it. In addition, we would like to use the mission as cover to attempt an extraction of Senator Dennix from the surface. Whatever we as individuals think of his speeches and policies, as far as we can tell he is the ranking and so far only known figure in the Confederation government, and as such he merits a rescue attempt if we can’t retake the system. That is what I want your fleet to concentrate on. We’re going to use the Third and elements of the Tenth and Eleventh Fleets to conduct the assault on the system, which leaves your entire Ninth Fleet to cover the contingencies. Additionally, Confed Naval Headquarters communicates with us regularly. Despite being bottled up in the asteroid field and bombarded almost daily, they have managed to work on some weapons that we hope will surprise the Primans.”

  “Isn’t that going to draw down a lot of unwanted attention on HQ?” This from Admiral Illam.

  “Well, the staff at HQ tells me that the Primans seem to be getting ready to perhaps put them out of business anyway. They’ve been shifting assets out-system towards HQ. So maybe if they can break the back of the assault force, they can stay in the fight. Best case scenario is that they’ve split their forces and we get to choose where to attack. We’d of course prefer to re-take Delos, but our fleets are stretched thin protecting the vital parts of our infrastructure that the Primans must not take from us. We will have a reserve force waiting to be called in, but I suspect the Primans are prepared for an attack on the system. We’ve been hesitant before now to attempt such a risky and obvious operation, but between Naval Headquarters and that research lab, we’re being forced to accelerate our plans. So, if we can’t take the planet, we accomplish our secondary mission, and that’s the research facility and
the Senator.

  “We’ve already laid the groundwork for the rescue op. Two days ago, the Crusader, namesake of your class of ships, Captain Elco,” the admiral nodded in recognition at Sirian, “made a covert pass close enough through the Delos system to insert a stealth drop shuttle carrying a force of Special Assault Recon operatives. Their orders are to make any preparations possible for receiving a ground assault, link up with any resistance forces, and try to establish communication with Senator Dennix.”

  The Admiral looked off screen and nodded to whomever was there, then turned back to the monitor. “My techs say that’s all I have time for. Expect another conference in two days, and just go ahead and assume that this mission is going to get the green light.” With that, the connection was severed and the briefing was over. One by one, the faces of the other notables disappeared from the scene, until it was just Ninth Fleet personnel left.

  Admiral Illam summed it up best when he looked at the others and said simply, “And you were all probably worried about being bored.”

  Captain Krent was pleasantly surprised by the turnout at first. There were nearly a dozen Enkarran ships of the line in attendance at his requested briefing, ships that had braved the gunfire of Priman, Confederation, and Talaran vessels along the way. Close on the heels of his feelings of success came the feelings of fear and doubt, in that order. He had, in retrospect, hoped to practice his speech on a much smaller group in a more controlled setting. However, here he was, at a makeshift conference table in the largest hangar bay on his ship. He wasn’t even the ranking officer, but the two that were present had given him the green light to go ahead with whatever he had to say. His carefully rehearsed lines were rapidly turning to vapor as other, less reasonable ideas floated to the top. First among them was to run for an escape pod and apologize for this crazy idea to anyone he passed on his way down the corridor. But it was too late for that, he guessed.

  Captain Krent stood up to his full height, respectable among Enkarrans but still on the short side for a typical humanoid, and cleared his throat. He had eschewed the use of amplification devices, knowing that the acoustics in this hangar would do well enough for the task.

  “Captains, Commodores, gathered officers, thank you, first of all, for coming to this meeting. In this day and age, the simple act of traveling for a rendezvous is itself a journey that carries considerable risk. For that I am in your debt and hope that my gratitude will suffice as a token of my appreciation for the time being until proper repayment can be made.” He opened with the typical long-winded Enkarran oration expected of such an event, then allowed himself to lapse back into normal speech for the guts of the brief.

  “I have spent the last six months getting by, existing, as it were, as you all no doubt were doing. We all know the state of disarray our senior leadership both in government and the military are in, so I will spare the preparation on that front. The reason I’ve called you here is to make a proposal, and see what your feelings on the matter are.”

  He looked around at each of the men in turn, wondering who would be the most vocally opposed. He had his bets on three in particular. Two didn’t like him; one simply liked to argue and would have probably seen something amiss even if the Primans surrendered tomorrow. Time to find out.

  “I propose approaching the Confederation or Talarans to join in a pact against the Primans.”

  To be honest, there was less of an uproar than Krent had expected, though the outbursts and commotion did take several minutes to die down. Lacking any sort of procedure on who was charged with maintaining order in the meeting, Krent simply waited patiently for it to die out.

  The first person to speak up set a less-than-friendly tone when he simply blurted out his comment; he didn’t stand, introduce himself, or demonstrate any of the typical Enkarrran pleasantries.

  “Are you suggesting a surrender? Because at least we have our freedom now, I can’t abide looking for a way to turn myself into a prisoner of war.”

  Krent was right, at least, in that the speaker was one of the potential troublemakers.

  “I’m not talking about surrender,” Krent responded. “I’m talking about finding a way to make a separate peace with some power in this quadrant, or at least perhaps agree to a nonaggression pact.”

  “To what end?” This from the Commodore directly to Krent’s right. “Why should we submit to anyone else’s judgement?”

  “Our government, our empire, is in shambles. Our military has no directive, no purpose other than to try and avoid further destruction. Instead of simply waiting for the war to end, I am beginning to think we need to align ourselves with some other power. I’m not talking about surrender, let me say that again. But what if we could arrange a treaty with the Confeds or Talarans? What if we could work together with them to rid this galaxy of the Primans, or at the very least not attack each other while we fight them individually?”

  There rang out another chorus of shouts and insults; Krent heard phrases from cowardice and over-reacting all the way up to treason.

  “What do we have left?” Krent yelled over the din.

  “Our freedom.”

  “Our dignity.”

  “Our dignity?” Krent scoffed. “Need I remind you it was we who attacked without warning or a declaration of war? That is what people will remember about us; how we helped usher in the brutal war that engulfs this part of the galaxy. What dignity is that?”

  “So you would throw us at the mercy of those that would seek to see us destroyed.” The Commodore brought the conversation back on track.

  “I’m talking about survival.” Krent pounded his fist on the table. “We are enemies here, as surely as the Primans. In my mind, we have two options. We run as far away as we can and hope nobody on the other side of this galaxy will persecute us or turn us in. Or we attempt to rebuild our status and empire here. The only way to do that is to make a stand.”

  He paused, the brief silence giving him cautious optimism that he had truly swayed their feelings. But soon enough again, the yelling and chaos took over and he had to content himself with sitting back and hearing what the others argued for.

  Krent thought that he had done a reasonable job of directing the meeting, all things considered. It went on for another hour, at times getting very heated, but eventually the main ideas percolated to the surface. Most of the commanders were tired of running as well, but they’d only entertain thoughts of approaching the Confeds or Talarans under some conditions. First, they didn’t want to go in offering a surrender; they wanted to bargain as a legitimate military and government power. Second, and this had taken the longest to agree to basic terms on, they were willing to fight alongside Confed and Talaran forces, but not as obvious targets or bait. Most even agreed to take orders from a Confed or Talaran commander, though Enkarran forces were to remain independent and separate whenever not actively engaged in battle.

  They agreed in principal, after a fashion, on what Krent had asked them there for; they needed to ask themselves which was better for the Enkarrans in the long run- swallowing their pride now, or being on the wrong end of someone’s clean-up list, no matter who among the other powers eventually won. There would be another, longer meeting, same time tomorrow…

  Everything about Senator Zek Dennix’s life had changed two days ago. He had just finished with another broadcast and was sitting in his combination dressing room/living quarters when two ordinary looking men quietly slipped into his room without even so much as a knock. Before he could say or do anything, one had displayed a Confederation military ID and identified himself as a Special Assault Recon soldier. It had taken him a while to process anything after that, but eventually the shock wore off and he realized he was on the verge of a rescue. They had apparently made their way planetside and were getting a rescue ready, and all they were saying about the matter was that they’d get a message with a timetable in a day or two.

  Things happened rapidly after that. While they wouldn’t part with any deta
ils (such as how many there were, where they were operating out of, and how they’d even found him in the first place), they insisted he be ready to move on one hour’s notice. He had brought Ples Damar in right after that, and together they had all started preparations. Dreams of recognition and a legitimate claim to power flooded through the Senator as he anxiously waited for word from the soldiers that it was time to move.

  Ples Damar, however, felt no such elation. It was, in fact, just about the worst news he could have imagined hearing. Confed was planning a rescue attempt for Dennix, and Damar needed to get out and confer with his superiors immediately. Finally, the next night after the operatives had left for the day, he excused himself on the auspices of tidying up their affairs for when they left, then made his way to the local Commander’s headquarters.

  Representative Terir was in his offices on Delos at the moment, completing the requisite paperwork for someone who was overseeing an army of occupation. Delos was a large, heavily populated place, and even after six months he wouldn’t consider the place pacified. On the contrary, while the capital city was more or less under Priman control, many of the outlying cities were simply blockaded and kept under wraps. The Primans needed their somewhat limited numbers of ground troops to stay mobile, occupying the most valuable targets. While Delos was quite a prize, it gained them nothing material in their efforts to take the reins on this galaxy. He would be glad when his time here was done and he could return to the familiar comforts of his family’s command ship. After being confined to the insides of gargantuan vessels for generations, straying from their protection just long enough to procure whatever resources were needed at the time, most Primans would rather stay onboard ship than occupy a planet, what with it’s changing weather, temperatures, and day/night cycles.