Cauldron of Fire (Blood on the Stars Book 5) Page 30

  “Repulse is firing again, sir. And Majestic.” The new battleships had upgraded reactors and transmission systems, and their recharge time was better than half a minute faster than Dauntless’s.

  Barron watched as another barrage of beams slammed into the fortresses. Even more of them hit this time, and he could see the damage building. The enemy platforms were still firing ineffectually, but Barron could see the intensity dropping as more and more guns were destroyed. He was still staring right at the display when Dauntless’s bridge lights flickered again, its own primaries lashing out a second time, tearing into one of the great platforms.

  Barron was excited to see his plan working—so far, at least—but he couldn’t help but think of the suffering on those stations, the thousands being killed and maimed. How many had chosen to follow Calavius, and how many were just acting on the orders of their superiors? And even among the Red Imperator’s directly-declared adherents, how many had made their decisions under the influence of carefully-directed propaganda? Commander Mellus was a prime example. She’d rallied to the Reds, fought alongside them…and after she’d realized she’d been lied to, she’d tried to switch sides.

  The closer Barron saw the Red Alliance leadership, the more convinced he became that the Union was involved. The slick propaganda machine, the polished efforts to suborn the military, to discredit Vennius, the rightful successor…it reeked of the Union. And they had every reason to intervene. A Red victory meant an Alliance invasion of the Confederation, and that meant disaster, an almost open route, directly into the Iron Belt and the Core.

  But there was no escape for the men and women on those platforms. Diehard Red or trapped spacer, it didn’t matter…they would all die. Barron had considered trying to spare the platforms themselves, just silencing the guns and then capturing the actual structures, but he’d quickly given up on that idea. Any attack sure to destroy the guns would already leave the fortresses wrecked, and besides, he didn’t have close to enough Marines for his ground assault. He had none at all to spare for taking shattered orbital stations.

  “Commodore…”

  Travis’s voice pulled Barron from his thoughts. He looked over toward her, but as he did he saw it himself, on the display. The remaining Alliance ships were advancing, moving against his line. It was suicide, a battle the Red forces couldn’t win. But he knew they had no alternative. If they stayed where they were they would see their forts all destroyed, and then they would have two options…fighting to the death or running…and for Alliance warriors, he knew that was no choice.

  He was about to issue orders, to command his ships to cease fire against the forts, to redirect their guns at the incoming battleships. But then Travis turned toward him again. “I have Commander Tulus on the line, sir.”

  Barron waved his arm, a signal his exec knew very well meant “put it through.” “Vian, we’ve got battleships moving up,” he said into the headset.

  “Yes, Commodore.” A short pause. “Let me take them. It’ll be an even match…and your people can keep pounding the stations. We’ve got to get to Palatia and commence landing operations as soon as we can. Every hour they delay us lowers our chances of taking the objectives.”

  “Are you sure?” Barron had doubts. For once his fleet had numerical superiority, but Tulus’s force alone would be an almost dead even match for the approaching ships. The Gray Alliance vessels would take serious losses…but if they could hold up the Red fleet units, Barron’s ships could finish off the forts that much sooner.

  “My people can do it, Tyler. Just give us the go ahead.”

  Barron could hear the anxious tone in his friend’s voice, and he wondered how many spacers would die so Tulus could heal his shame and bruised ego in the inferno of combat. Amid all he admired about his new allies, there were some things he didn’t like. Still, there were tactical reasons for the strategy as well…and Tulus was right, every moment sooner he could land his Marines increased the chances of success.

  “Go, Vian. May the fortunes of war be with you, and all those who serve you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” There was gratitude in Tulus’s voice.

  Barron was amazed at how well the proud Alliance officer had fallen into accepting him as the mission commander. No matter how well he thought he understood Palatian warriors, they continually surprised him. He’d never seen people who could so instantly transition from contempt to warm admiration the instant you won their respect.

  “Maintain fire on orbital platforms,” he said needlessly, more of a reaction to his own abortive intent to cease fire than anything else.

  “All ships maintaining maximum fire, sir.”

  Barron watched on the display as Tulus’s ships moved forward to meet the approaching Red vessels. He thought about launching fighters to support—about half his squadrons were already refit and ready to go—but he couldn’t spare them. He needed his full wings to launch as soon as the platforms were down, to blast any remaining defenses and clear the way for the troop landings.

  Tulus was on his own.

  Barron’s eyes caught a bright flash on the screen, then another one. Two platforms destroyed outright.

  Sixteen to go…

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Near Planet Varena

  Cilian System

  Year 62 (311 AC)

  Grachus could feel the tension, the acid feeling burning into her stomach lining as her eyes darted all around her screens. Vennius’s fleet was lined up, ready for battle. But the Confed ships weren’t there.

  They must be hiding somewhere…

  “Slashers, Condors, Warhammers, break off and explore the asteroid belt. Black Tigers, Stormbringers, Blasters…check the far side of planet two.”

  She turned back to her screens, looking for any other places ships could be hiding. But there was nothing. It didn’t make any sense. Where were they?

  She’d heard rumors there was trouble between Vennius and his Confed allies, but Grachus hadn’t believed them. Nonsense, she’d said. Wishful thinking. But now she began to wonder.

  If the Confeds were really gone, the Red victory was even more certain. That was good news, for Calavius, at least. For her, it meant the duel she’d expected to fight would not happen, at least not here and now. She would not face Stockton. But her chance to avenge Kat would be gone as well. If Dauntless had fled home, if the Confeds had shown their true, cowardly colors, Kat’s soul would still cry out for vengeance.

  Her mind was in disarray, distracted by the worries that her primary target had eluded her. But she still had her duty, and she forced herself to set aside thoughts of retribution, at least against the Confeds. Her eyes locked on the large icon representing the Sentinel-2 station. She could still destroy the man who’d sent Kat to her death. It was far from enough, but it was something.

  “Main strike force, on me. We’re going directly for the station. Flanking force A, engage enemy ships out-system from Sentinel-2. Force B, engage all forces in-system.”

  Acknowledgements streamed in, dozens of them. As far as she knew, no Alliance officer had ever commanded so many fighters in battle. She’d organized her 120 squadrons into wings, each under the command of the senior squadron commander present. But she hadn’t had time for more reorganization, and she knew she’d only be able to exercise superficial control over the unwieldy formation.

  They’re Alliance warriors. They know what to do…

  Her eyes looked straight forward, locked on the display, on the small oval labeled, ‘Sentinel-2.’ It was time for Vennius to pay for Kat’s death.

  Suddenly, her readings went wild. Something had hit her ship. Not a piece of debris, nor a shot from a weapon, but something that almost overloaded her receptors.

  A comm beam?

  She flipped a row of switches, recalibrating her scanners. But they were blank, almost burnt out.

  “Jovi?” The voice on the comm unit was familiar. She shook her head, ignoring what she heard. Thought she heard. But th
en it came again. “Jovi, is that you?”

  Am I losing my mind…it can’t be. Not him.

  “Jovi, it’s me. Jarus. If you hear me, please respond.”

  She reached out, her hands working her controls, reorienting her scanners to get a read on the communications beam. It came from one of the enemy vessels, a battleship positioned near the flank of the Gray line.

  Perhaps it truly was Jarus. He and his entire family had rallied to Vennius’s flag. Traitor…

  She felt a rush of emotion, confusion trying to divert her from her purpose, but she resisted it, ignoring Jarus’s words. She almost turned off her comm, but she couldn’t do it without cutting contact with her strike formations. The beam was too strong, and it was coming in on all channels.

  “Jovi, listen to me. I know you’re angry. I understand what Kat’s death did to you. But you’re wrong about Imp…about Tarkus Vennius. He loved Kat as much as you did. She was like a daughter to him. He would never have betrayed her.”

  Grachus felt the anger growing inside her. She relived the moment she got the news about Kat, the fury that grew as she tried to determine what happened, how the Confeds had destroyed her. Dauntless couldn’t possibly have defeated Kat in a fair fight. It had to be rigged. Vennius had set her up…there was no other explanation.

  She poked at the buttons on her console, angling her antennae, trying to break off the incoming signal. But whatever she did, it adjusted almost immediately. Whoever’s controlling that thing must have an entire ship’s comm staff working on it…

  “Main force, fire up turbos. We’re going in now, and we’re going in hot. Target…Sentinel-2.” Her voice was coarse, raw.

  She felt thoughts in her mind turning to doubt. She still had feelings for Jarus, affection she’d never lost, even when his family had treated her like dirt, keeping her from her son. Memories surfaced, the two of them alone, dining together…intertwined in the quiet darkness, the only light the flicker from the fireplace. Jarus had been compelled to couple with her, she knew that. But she was also sure he had felt something, even as she had. Would he lie to me? To set me up? To distract me?

  She wanted to say no, to believe the father of her child would not engage in such deceit. They were on opposite sides in this conflict, but Jarus was still an honorable warrior.

  No, it’s a trick. The other side of her mind, the dark cloud formed from her rage and her lust for revenge, argued back. Will you betray Kat now, so close to avenging her? Will you turn your back on the only person who ever truly cared about you? Abandon her when she can no longer stand for herself?

  “No!” she shouted, the word echoing in the cockpit. She felt a rush of determination. She would ignore Jarus. She would lead the attack in…and her squadrons would destroy Sentinel-2. Tarkus Vennius would pay for what he did.

  “Main force…turbos on full. Missiles armed and ready.”

  “Jovi…I am telling you the truth. On my honor.” A pause. “I swear it, on our son’s life, my mate. Our son is safe, Jovi. He’s hidden away, far from the fighting. I beg you…join us. Let go of this misguided quest for revenge. Deep in your heart, you know Vennius is the rightful Imperator. Push aside your rage, and listen to your honor. Please…”

  Grachus’s mind exploded again, voices inside, all her, arguing with themselves. The dark side was still in control, but its grip had weakened. Jarus’s mention of her son had hit her like a punch to the gut, and she ached to see young Varus. For an instant, a passing moment, she considered breaking off from the formation, flying toward the ship Jarus was on. If she yielded to his words, she would see her son again! But then the cold determination slammed back into place. It was too late. She had chosen her path, and her course was set.

  She looked at the cluster of dots on her scanner, the station’s hopelessly outnumbered fighters. It looked like the squadrons from the battleships hadn’t launched yet. It didn’t make sense to her…by rights they should mass and try to gain local superiority at some location on the battlefield. But it wasn’t her place to correct the enemy’s mistakes.

  Or to listen to their propaganda, to the treachery of those who would do anything to mislead…even dig up old lovers to try to confuse an adversary. You have no honor, Tarkus Vennius.

  “Main force, prepare to engage enemy fighters…now!”

  * * *

  Vennius had been somber as he rode the lift down to deck twenty-three. He couldn’t be sure the unexplained comm activity was the traitor, but he didn’t have any real doubt either. He’d been waiting, expecting his hidden nemesis to strike again. He’d kept the destination of Barron’s and Tulus’s forces as secret as possible, but he’d done that before, restricted the most important intel only to his inner circle…and the information leaked anyway. He didn’t know who he would find, but he was sure of one thing. There would be more pain, the bitterness of betrayal by one he had trusted.

  The doors opened and he stepped out, one of the two guards slipping in front of him, pushing past in as respectful a way as possible. There were half a dozen other troopers waiting outside the door—Egilius’s doing, no doubt. Barron appreciated his subordinate’s concern, and he understood that as Imperator, he had no place there, exposing himself to a traitor. But he was still a Palatian warrior, and this was personal. He would deal with whoever had betrayed him, cost the lives of so many of his people.

  “What is the status?” he asked to the highest ranking of the troopers, an optiomagis.

  “We have the renegade penned in, Your Supremacy. We are searching compartment by compartment now. We will have him soon.” A pause. “With respect, Your Supremacy, I implore you to remain here until we have apprehended the fugitive. We believe he is armed.”

  “That is of no consequence.” Vennius knew the officer was thinking only of his safety, but the truth was, he didn’t give a damn. “I am going forward now, Optiomagis. You and your people can come along if you wish, but do not get in my way.”

  He turned and reached out his hand. “Your scanner, Optiomagis.”

  The officer hesitated, but only for a second. It wasn’t in him to disobey Vennius, no matter how horrified he was by the Imperator’s orders.

  Vennius took the small scanner and looked down at it, turning and moving swiftly down the corridor. His other hand dropped to his side, brushing against the sidearm hanging from his belt.

  The scanner updated, several compartments becoming shaded, as the hunting troopers worked their way through, gradually shrinking the search area. Vennius headed for the center of the still-unexplored area, but before he got more than a few steps, he heard the distant sounds of gunfire. He increased his pace, no doubt surprising his guards with how quickly an old man could move. But before he’d gotten a dozen steps, the optiomagis’s comm unit crackled to life.

  “We’ve apprehended the suspect, sir. He is wounded but alive, and he insists he is innocent.”

  Vennius almost asked for an ID, but a quick glance at the updated scanner told him the prisoner was only a few compartments away. He hurried forward, turning the corner after about twenty meters, and then slipping through an open hatch. His eyes fixed on the scene: at least a dozen troopers, and one man, roughly his age, his right hand grasping his left arm, and blood dripping through his fingers from a gunshot wound.

  Hirtius Longinus.

  Vennius had been prepared for betrayal, for treachery at the hands of someone he’d trusted, but Longinus had been the last one he suspected.

  “Hirtius,” he said, his voice deep with disillusionment.

  “This is a mistake, Tarkus.” The old officer was trying, at least, that was no surprise. But now that Vennius’s blindness had lifted, the trust of old friendship stripped away, he could see the officer’s guilt, written plain on his face.

  “Would you add to your treachery with lies, Hirtius? You’re a traitor. We’ve been friends since we endured the Ordeal together. We’ve served for half a century, and I have denied you nothing.” Vennius could feel him
self hardening inside, the pain turning to a deep coldness.

  “You denied me nothing?” Longinus’s attempt at denial collapsed, and his voice became angry, accusatory. “You, who took my place, my position?” The guards surrounding Longinus reached out, grabbed his arms at his outburst.

  “Release him. Let him speak.” Vennius stared at his old friend. “I will hear what he has to say.”

  “Commander-Magnus,” Longinus spat. “You held the rank that should have been mine. You worked your way closer to the Imperatrix, poisoned her mind against me. You stole what should have been mine. Did you steal my rank in her bed, when you were unable to claim it by deeds on the battlefield?”

  “You are a fool, Longinus. I never spoke an ill word about you, to anyone, and least of all the Imperatrix. And if you think she would have been moved by a lover’s words, you knew her less even that I’d thought. You are so bitter, so envious. You let a lifetime of friendship turn to hate and betrayal, and for what? Lust for an office I took but despised. I never wanted to be Commander-Magnus, Hirtius, as I do not now want to be Imperator. But we must do our duty, without regard to personal desires. I pity you, old friend, for you lost yourself. You traded adherence to the way for petty ambition and jealousy.”

  Vennius paused, staring at Longinus with anger, but even more, with sadness, with pity. “You could have lived—and died—a hero to your people, respected and admired long after your death. But now you will die as a traitor, your name stricken from every honor you have won, every accomplishment you once called your own…and your family shall carry your shame, as a millstone. How many times have we sat together, drank long into the night, talking of days past…when the entire time, your mind was consumed with envy and hatred? How you must have laughed at me when I entrusted you to seek out the traitor in our midst. What a fool I was.”

  He reached down and pulled the pistol from his holster. “It is duty now that I answer. You will pay for what you have done, for the treachery against me, but even more for the brave and noble warriors dead in battle because of your treason. I can only be thankful that you were stopped before you could divulge our plan here. That secret will die now, with you.”