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  But, still, he’d waited. And then, at last, Tenacity had come back through.

  The enemy fleet—the massive force of Hegemony warships—had just departed from Olyus. Winters had expected them to be long gone, on their way to Craydon and the fleet under Nguyen and Barron that was there waiting for them. That battle wasn’t likely to go any differently than the others that preceded it. The enemy was just too strong. But, if his sixteen ships could complete their mission, perhaps the losses the fleet suffered would not be for naught. A Hegemony unable to quickly repair its damaged ships and refit its worn fleets would be a different enemy. Powerful, yes, and dangerous. But, at least there would be time to try and develop a strategy.

  Winters wasn’t sure if he’d be a part of that. He tried to tell himself his people would make it back, some of them at least, but the whole thing looked a little too much like a suicide mission for his tastes.

  That hadn’t stopped him from wanting the posting, or feeling satisfaction when Admiral Nguyen had placed him in command. He knew he was a skilled leader, but he didn’t imagine he could match Tyler Barron…and, if one of them had to be lost, better for the Confederation it was him.

  Winters had felt the urge to go right in after he’d gotten Eugene’s report. But he’d held back, for several days. Tenacity’s transit into Olyus seemed to have gone unnoticed…and, he didn’t want to take a chance the enemy might recall the fleet that had just left. His ships were going to go after those logistics units, and they weren’t going to let anything stand in their way. But, if the entire enemy fleet returned to the system, things would get ugly. Fast.

  He sat quietly, doing his best to ignore the various, and often uncomfortable, effects of interstellar travel, and then he felt normal again as Constitution emerged into normal space.

  We’re back in the Olyus system…

  It had only been a couple months since Winters had last been there, but it felt like an eternity.

  He sat, waiting, his eyes darting to the screen every few seconds. Then, finally, his station came to life. Constitution’s systems were coming back online, rebooting after the disruption of transit point travel. Then, the scanners came on, and the display began filling up with circles, triangles, rectangles, all manner of icons representing the vast array of ships and stations and other designated points in the Confederation’s capital system.

  “Commander…fleet order. All ships, execute designated nav plan alpha-one. Full thrust.”

  Winters knew where the targets were. Tenacity had done her job well, and returned with intel of enormous value. There were enemy garrison ships present, but they were mostly cruisers and escorts. The smaller vessels could hurt his battleships, but the stealth generators would give them on hell of a time in targeting, even after Winters’s vessels had opened fire and given away their presence.

  He stared straight ahead, his eyes like two lasers. His targets were dead ahead…and nothing the enemy did was going to keep him from them.

  * * *

  “Kiloron, we’re picking up energy readings from transit point four.”

  Sestus had been analyzing a routine report, but the instant the scanner technician spoke, his head snapped up. “Intensity?” The invasion of the Confederation had been so fast, the progress toward the capital so relentless, there had been ships in space, and even remote worlds that didn’t know what had happened. There had been a number of ships, routine freighters and the like, transiting into the Olyus system, unaware that the Hegemony forces were in control.

  “Significant, Kiloron. In excess of ninety techons.”

  Sestus had barely been paying attention, but the response grabbed his full focus. Ninety techons was well above the output from a routine cargo ship, even a small group of such vessels. He didn’t know what was coming through that point, but the Kriegeri knew one thing.

  He had to get a Master involved.

  “Put the sentinel units on full alert, and order them to investigate any vessels emerging.”

  “Yes, Kiloron.”

  The officer thought silently for a moment. His first impulse was to contact Megaron Illius. The Master was in total command of the system now that Chronos had left with the fleet. If the contact was an enemy attack, if the Confederation had assembled a new fleet somehow, or if the force Chronos thought was at Craydon had actually snuck back to Olyus, such a leap up the chain would be warranted.

  But, if it’s just some group of freighters or tankers stumbling into the system unaware, you will look like a fool…

  “Send a transmission to system command, Hectoron. Include all scanning data, and advise that we have put the sentinel units on alert.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sestus sat quietly for a moment. Then, he added, “And, get me an updated report on ships under repair that are capable of action.”

  “Yes, Kiloron.”

  Sestus didn’t know what was about to emerge into the system…but despite his impulses not to overreact, he had a bad feeling about it.

  * * *

  “Power readings from the nearby vessels suggest some kind of alert status, Admiral. But, there is no sign of any hostile movement.” A pause. “They’re just sitting there. It looks like they’re expecting something, but it doesn’t look like they’ve spotted us.”

  Clint Winters leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the floating dots in Constitution’s display. The specs of light represented the Hegemony warships, mostly light escorts, deployed in the immediate vicinity of the transit point. There were almost two dozen ships, enough to give his fleet a hard time, but not to really stop it. His tactical sense told him to engage them, to take them by surprise and eliminate the threat, but he knew his time was limited, and minutes he wasted fighting a force of pickets was time and ordnance wasted, resources lost to the ultimate attack on the logistics fleet.

  “Prepare to transmit nav plans to all ships. And Commander…make damned sure those direct laser pulses are tight.” Winters was concerned enough that the enemy would pick something up when his ships blasted their engines at full thrust…he didn’t want to give anything away with comm traffic. He’d have preferred total communications silence, but he hadn’t been able to finalize his orders until he’d seen the system scans himself. He was breaking his fleet into three groups. Five battleships would move against the massive mobile shipyards, probably the most important target of all. Another five would hit the mining and refinery ships that were scattered throughout the outer system. The other six ships would target the vast armada of supply vessels, the hundreds of freighters full of ordnance, replacement parts, and the other implements of war that had kept the Hegemony fleet moving steadily forward, almost without pause.

  Winters had imagined there would be a vast number of empty cargo ships, their payloads long since expended to support the ongoing war effort. But, as he looked out at the intricate web of mining craft, ore processing ships, factory vessels…he knew those freighters were refilled almost as quickly as they were emptied.

  He realized, with even more certainty than before, that the mission he’d come to complete was, in fact, the only real chance the Confederation had. If the enemy could continue to rearm and repair their forces so quickly, there was simply no way to hold them back. He had to succeed, whatever the cost. If he could destroy, or at least badly damage, the enemy logistics train, it would be worth losing every one of his ships…and every spacer on them, himself included.

  He didn’t think lightly of casualties, nor of branding his operation a suicide run. He would fight like hell to get his people through this, and to lead them back out of the system, to join their comrades, at Craydon, or wherever they were by then. But, he wouldn’t allow thoughts of escape to interfere with his decisions. There was one priority and one alone, and it came before all things.

  Destroy those support ships. Whatever the cost.

  * * *

  Alicia Covington leaned back and stretched her spine, rolling her head around on her shoulders. She’d been in
her fighter for four hours now, waiting, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. She knew the situation. The enemy pickets were looking for the fleet, pinging all around with their active scanners, searching for the cause of the transit point energy spike.

  So far, they hadn’t found anything. At least they showed no signs of closing on the fleet.

  They had called for reinforcements, though, that much was clear. There were over a hundred ships moving toward the general area, as with the initial garrison units, mostly cruisers and escorts. Despite the lighter ship classes, that was a lot of firepower coming in, and she knew she might have to divide her forces, send some squadrons to engage the approaching enemy warships, while the others went in as planned against the logistics fleet.

  She understood why Admiral Winters had ordered her people to man their ships so early, and she also realized why they had been held back so long. The instant they launched, they would be detected, and that would tell the enemy there were, in fact, ships in the system. It would also provide a starting point for them to search. It would degrade her assault plan for hitting the supply fleet if she had to engage the warships as well, and her squadrons would waste a lot of time and fuel modifying their vectors. But, there was nothing to be done about that.

  The waiting was getting to her, and she knew it had to have her pilots on the verge of insanity. They all knew, to varying degrees, just how little chance they had of getting back to the fleet, and making them sit in the silence of their cockpits for hours was a form of torture.

  Still, she knew they would do what they had to do. They all understood, as she did, just what was at stake. They’d lost friends, comrades. They were all veterans. Even those who’d been green going into the battle at Megara were far from raw now.

  Covington was ready. Her people were ready.

  She just needed the launch order. She had to get her people out there, doing what they did best.

  Before they all lost their minds.

  * * *

  “Admiral…”

  Winters knew as soon as he heard Harrington’s tone, something was wrong.

  “We’re picking up Resolute…on our scanners.”

  The words hit Winters like a ton of bricks. His ships were closing on their targets. But they needed more time. Time it looked like they weren’t going to get. Not if Resolute’s stealth unit was down.

  Damn!

  “Direct laser comm to Resolute. I want a report right now.” A pause. “And, get Captain Fritz on my line. I want her in on this.” Tyler Barron had sent his famous engineer with Winters and his fleet. He suspected it had been painful for him to part with an officer who had served with him for so long, but, short of sending Dr. Witter himself, there was probably no one else in the fleet more qualified to keep the stealth systems operating than Fritz.

  And, she had done that flawlessly, monitoring every generator almost constantly. As far as Winters could tell, Fritz hadn’t slept since the fleet left Craydon. But, the communications blackout had cut her off from the constant stream of data. Winters had known that would be a risk, but he’d hoped he would get lucky, just for a few more hours.

  That was a damned fool mistake he’d never repeat again, at least not if he somehow got out of the mess he was in.

  “Give the launch order, Commander. Direct laser signal.” A pause. “Operations plan two.” He didn’t like that last order. Plan two split up Covington’s wings and only took strength away from the attack on the real targets. But, if he didn’t manage to hold back the enemy garrison units, the ones even then angling their vectors toward the new contact on their screens, his whole fleet could end up in a straight up fight. He needed time, and Covington could get it for him.

  He hoped.

  “Launch orders issued, Admiral. Captain Fritz on your line.”

  “Captain, I need you to do what you can. It looks like Resolute has lost its generator.” His eyes darted to the side, toward the display. He could already see symbols on the move, more Hegemony ships blasting toward his fleet’s location.

  He was out of time.

  “I will do what I can, Admiral.”

  “Do your best, Captain.” Winters turned his head, cutting the line as he did. His attention was diverted, and he knew he’d have to rely on Fritz to do what could be done. She was an engineering genius, but he was a tactician…and the enemy knew his fleet was there. He had to hit the logistics train, and he had to do it fast.

  “Commander Harrington…all ships are to increase reactor levels to one hundred ten percent. I want every g of thrust we can get.” He’d been reluctant to go in at full thrust, concerned about energy leakage through the stealth fields. But, that was far less of a concern than it had been moments before. Nothing was as important as time. He almost felt as though he was trying to hold onto precious seconds, like water in his hands.

  “We’ve got a race to run, and we’re going to win it. We’re going to blast the hell out of those support ships, and nothing in Olyus or the Rim, or the whole damned galaxy is going to stop us.”

  He wasn’t sure if the words were for his bridge crew, the whole fleet…or for him.

  He felt a distant vibration, then another. And another.

  The fighters were launching. He closed his eyes for an instant, a silent wish for Covington and her people. And, an acknowledgement that he’d just done as much to give away the locations of his ships as Resolute’s busted stealth generator.

  He turned and stared right at the display, even as the pressure from the increased thrust levels hit him. “All weapons at full power. All gunnery stations ready to fire on my command…”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  CFS Dauntless

  Orbiting Craydon

  Calvus System

  Year 318 AC

  “Here they come…”

  Barron’s head snapped around, his eyes scanning the room for the source of the words. There were more than thirty officers on the great battleship’s bridge, and after a cursory look around, he decided it didn’t really matter who had spoken. His people were on edge, hell, they had to be scared out of their wits. He wasn’t about to enforce minute regulations about who was authorized to say this or that. It was a waste of time.

  And, it wasn’t his job anyway. Dauntless was Atara’s ship, its crew her people. He’d reminded himself a hundred times, and he did it again, as he pushed back once more against the urge to slip into the captain’s role. It was Atara’s call how to handle her bridge crew, and he had total faith in her ability and in her wisdom.

  Whatever else he might say about the unidentified officer’s remark, he couldn’t argue against it on fact. It was one hundred percent correct.

  He looked at the display, watching as the column of ships continued to emerge into the system. Only a dozen had come through so far, but he knew from bitter experience what lay beyond, in the strange reality of the transit tube, and beyond, queued up lightyears away, waiting to move forward.

  The time at Craydon, working, doing all he could to see to repairs, to prep the fleet for another fight, even spending a few stolen moments with Andi, had seemed somehow to pass by in an instant, and also to last forever under the grinding tension of waiting for the enemy. Barron was seeing nothing new, as he stared forward, at least nothing he hadn’t imagined a hundred times over the preceding weeks.

  He was ready, as much as he could be…and not ready. too. He was prepared to fight, though he couldn’t get completely past the exhaustion—both physical and emotional—that weighed on every decision, every move he made. He was anxious on one level to face the enemy again, to strike at his deadly foe…but he couldn’t entirely banish thoughts about whether this would be his final fight.

  Whether he had seen Andi for the last time.

  He felt the urge to issue orders, but there was no need. Dustin Nguyen was in command, and the fleet already had detailed orders. Every ship captain knew what to do. Every squadron leader was ready to lead his or her fighters into the maelstrom
. All he could do just then was sit and wait. And watch the carnage unfold.

  He looked to one side on the display. The Alliance ships were formed up there, in perfect order, Invictus in the only place a Palatian flagship could be, right in the forefront. Barron was grateful for his Alliance allies, and he knew they would fight hard, that they would die in place before they would desert him.

  His eyes shot over in the other direction. Another force lay there, also formed up and ready for action. But, this ally filled him with mixed thoughts…hope that they were the added strength the fleet needed to have a real chance at victory, and concern, because these new ‘friends’ were just another enemy, an old enemy. He tried to think only of the fight ahead, of the fact that Andrei Denisov and his people were there at his side, ready to face the Hegemony forces with him…but, he couldn’t drive the old memories away, a lifetime of looking at the Union and seeing only an enemy.

  He watched as more and more enemy ships transited. He’d considered trying to hit them as they came in, an effort to bottle them up at the transit point. But, he didn’t have the minefield he’d had at Megara, nor the great asteroid fortresses. His fleet was weaker, diminished by the losses suffered at Megara and the detachment of Winters’s sixteen heavy battleships. The fleet needed to concentrate its strength. It needed a simpler battle plan.

  And, that’s just what he and Dustin Nguyen had put together. With any luck, the newly arrived Alliance reinforcements and the Union fleet would surprise the enemy, throw them off their game. It was little more than hope, but Barron knew his people needed something.

  That he needed something.