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  The ruler of the Sapphire Worlds had been silent for a moment after she spoke. She suspected he was thinking, considering options…though she wasn’t sure what there was to consider after traveling through two dozen transits and arriving even as the battle was raging.

  He’s just a coward. He’s trying to pull himself together…and probably wondering if there is a way he can pull the flagship back from the fighting without losing face.

  I can save you time, ‘Enlightened One’…there isn’t.

  “By all means, Admiral Eaton. Assuming our Sultanate…allies…are ready for a fight as well.”

  “They are, Enlightened One.” She didn’t like the sultan much more than she did the ruler of the Sapphire Worlds, but she had to admit, he seemed to be made of somewhat sterner stuff.

  He’s probably imagining making his mark, and gaining Confederation support in the future. The Sultanate’s been number two out there for a long time, and I suspect that has been a burr in his ass for years.

  She reached down to her controls, activated the fleetwide comm channel she’d prepared even before the jump into Craydon’s system. “All ships…it seems the fight is already on…” And, almost lost, from the looks of things. She decided to leave that part out. “Full thrust forward. Let us advance and engage, and drive the enemy back where they came from.”

  She turned and nodded toward Enlightened One.

  He paused again, but then he turned toward his primary aide. “All ships will advance, Commander. All weapons armed and ready.”

  * * *

  Tyler Barron was staring at the display, his face a mask of utter disbelief. He’d suspected the inbound ships were some kind of Hegemony force that had found its way to another entry point into the system. Then, when he saw the ships, all unfamiliar designs, he imagined it was some kind of new Hegemony fleet, perhaps the forces of some types of satellite nations, reserves brought forward to finish the conquest of the Rim.

  Then, he heard the voice.

  It was difficult to hear, the static from the Hegemony jamming had blocked most of it. But, it came in on the fleet’s priority channel, and suddenly, a few seconds of clear transmission fought their way through. The voice was immediately familiar.

  Sara Eaton.

  Was it even possible? He’d been part of the group that had convinced Eaton to go out to the Far Rim to try to recruit new allies. He’d believed she might succeed, for about a day, when he’d given her the blood oath signed by Tulus, guaranteeing eternal friendship with the Alliance to any powers that joined her and came to fight the Hegemony—and perpetual enmity to all those who refused. It was a potent offer to Far Rim nations long victimized by Palatian aggression, and even the Alliance’s enemies knew Palatian Imperators did not violate blood oaths.

  Still, his hope had quickly faded. It seemed too much to seriously expect that Eaton, a brilliant naval officer, but by her own admission, no diplomat, could forge such a coalition in so little time. He’d come to regret his support for sending her so far away, wishing she was with him, helping to command the fleet.

  The connection slipped again into the static of the Hegemony jamming, but those few seconds had been enough to tell him all he needed to know. Eaton had, in fact done just what she’d been sent to do…and she’d arrived back just in time.

  “Atara…it looks like we have some reinforcements, against all odds. We’d better make the best of it. It’s time for the final push. Get a comm out to any ships you can reach through this jamming. Reactors on one hundred fifteen percent. Safeties off all weapons. We’re going to pour everything we’ve got into these bastards, and damned the consequences!”

  “Yes, sir!” He could hear the burst of energy in her voice, even as he felt it in himself. He was far from sure even Eaton’s reinforcements would be enough to turn the looming defeat into a victory…that would depend, he suspected, on just how much of a stomach for losses the Hegemony commander had.

  But, whatever chance his people had to outlast their enemies, it was far better than it had been just moments before.

  He would take that.

  * * *

  “Bring us forward, Commander. You heard the fleet order. Cut all safeties and fire up the reactor. We may not have many guns, but we’re going to make the ones we do have count.” Andi Lafarge’s voice was like the clang of a hammer on steel. She was hard, immovable, and her determination to participate in the battle, to add whatever meager amount of strength Hermes could to the combined effort, was almost irresistible.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  She nodded and turned back to the display. The symbols representing the fleet were changing, some of them flickering and moving about as the Hegemony jamming interfered with Hermes’s scanners. But, she saw what she’d been looking for, a blue circle, right up at the front of the fleet, in the thick of the fight.

  Dauntless.

  She was not surprised at all Tyler was right at the forefront of the battle, leading his spacers in their most desperate struggle. She hoped he was occupied, too focused on other things to see her small cruiser moving so far forward. She didn’t want to worry him, or worse, distract him, but there was just no way she could leave him again, blast off in the fast cruiser he’d given her and run away while he stayed behind, to win or die.

  She would stay, too. She would also win or die, and if it was the latter, she would do it fighting next to him, her only true regret that she wouldn’t get one last chance to see him, a few moments together before the end came.

  “You heard the fleet order, Commander. We’ve only got four guns, but we’re going to strip off every safety and pour as much energy as we can through them. With any luck, they won’t consider us a threat, and we’ll be able to get close enough.”

  Close enough to kill some Hegemony spacers…

  * * *

  “You are authorized to launch.”

  Jake Stockton slammed his hand back, ready to blast his engines at full, even as the catapult hurled his ship down the launch tube and into space. He’d been far from sure he’d get back out again, that Dauntless would endure the enemy bombardment long enough to launch yet another sortie. But, the arrival of…whatever reinforcements Sara Eaton had brought…had disrupted the enemy somewhat. Eaton’s ships were coming in more or less against the Hegemony fleet’s flank, and the enemy had been compelled to reposition some of its ships to meet the new force.

  Now, they would face another attack by Stockton’s fighters. It wouldn’t be anything like the massive assault waves early in the battle. Casualties had been immense, and hundreds of fighters were sitting damaged in the bays, incapable of launching. Beyond that, the fleet organization was in tatters. Fighters had returned to their base ships squadron by squadron, or even in mixed groups. Bombers were being refit, even as other squadrons launched attacks, and Stockton knew he’d be lucky to get a few hundred ships together for the attack he was leading out now. They would be a disorganized mix of Confederation, Alliance, and even Union ships, with varying levels of damage, and almost universal exhaustion among the pilots. But, he knew, in many ways, it would be the most important strike of his life.

  “Jake…” It was Admiral Barron’s voice, coming through his comm. There was some static, but he was still very close to Dauntless, so it was clear enough to understand.

  “Yes, sir…”

  “I know I don’t have to tell you this, my old friend, but this is the time, the attack we’ve been readying ourselves for all these years. It’s our first real chance to beat these bastards.” There was a slight pause. “I know I can count on you. Hit them, Raptor. Hit them as hard as you can.”

  Stockton felt his emotions stirring. He was already raw, a raging predator out for blood, but the idea of letting Admiral Barron down…it was unthinkable.

  “I won’t fail you, Admiral. You can count on my wings.”

  Stockton moved the controls back, kicking up his thrust, pushing forward, even as he watched his thin, patched together strike force
begin to form up.

  He thought of Kyle Jamison, wishing his old commander could be there in the next fighter. He missed his friend with an ache that had never diminished, but one aspect of his grief that had long plagued him was gone. He no longer wished Jamison was there to take the burden of command from him. He had long felt out of place, as promotions had moved him up the chain, and placed him at the very top of the strike force organizational chart.

  He was tense, nervous, afraid, as anyone would be in the same situation…but the discomfort of command was gone. He was where he belonged, and he’d ascended vastly farther along that climb than Kyle Jamison had ever had the chance to reach.

  He didn’t know if his people would make a difference, if the reinforcements would give the fleet a chance of finally defeating the Hegemony. But, he was damned sure going to do everything he could. It was time to truly show the invaders what fighters and veteran pilots could do.

  * * *

  Repulse shook hard, and Sonya Eaton knew her ship was badly hurt. She’d been in the line, trading volleys with the Hegemony ships for almost an hour. She was exhausted, struggling to dig up the strength to give her people what they needed from her.

  Then, suddenly, Sara returned with reinforcements. More than fresh ships, her sister had somehow, against the odds, come back with something even more powerful than hulls and laser cannon. Hope.

  Sonya felt energized, and she could see her crew did, too. Repulse’s primaries were long gone, but that didn’t matter at such close range, and she still had about half her broadside operational. Power was going to be a problem soon, at least if her damage control teams couldn’t get reactor B back online, but, all things considered, the battleship was still in the fight. That was about all she could ask, she knew, and it was a boast that many ships that had started in the battle line days before could not match. Casualties had been massive, so utterly brutal, she’d given silent thanks that her position didn’t require her to keep track of such things.

  She’d been on the verge of giving up even the small vestiges of hope to which she’d desperately clung, but now, her face twisted into a strange little smile.

  Welcome back, sister. Well done!

  She didn’t have a real feel for whether the forces Sara had somehow brought back would be enough to turn the tide, but they’d damned sure been enough to reinvigorate her spirits. Victory was far from certain, and perhaps not even in reach…but it was a hell of a lot closer than it had been minutes before.

  Her eyes scanned the display, staring at the two enemy battleships firing at her ship. One was closer than the other, but the more distant of the two was badly damaged. She might be able to take it out…before its companion blasted the rest of Repulse’s broadside and put the battleship out of the fight. Or worse.

  “Commander, give me twenty percent thrust, course 105.230.355…and all weapons, shift targeting to target beta. We’re going in…”

  She stared straight ahead, her eyes like icy fire.

  “Right down their throats.”

  * * *

  Stockton’s finger tightened, and his fighter shuddered, as the torpedo lurched forward from the bomb bay. His hand clenched on the controls, pulling the throttle back and blasting his engines hard, as he zipped past his target. There were two dozen Lightnings stacked up behind him, coming in at the same enemy battleship. The fight had changed, and with it his orders and the mode of his attack. The battle was now a test of wills, and the goal was simple. Put the enemy to the test, see what losses they could endure before they turned tail and ran.

  The Hegemony spacers were not cowards, far from it. Even through his hatred, Stockton could see that. But, they lacked one thing his pilots possessed, that the entire fleet did. Desperation. There would be no retreat for the Confederation forces, no fallback to another defensive location weaker and more helpless than the current one. The forces arrayed at Craydon would turn back the enemy…or they would die where they were.

  That was a potent force in battle, and Stockton ignored the sweat pouring down his forehead, the tense jumble in his gut. There was no time for fear, nor for thought…only time to kill. He thought about returning to Dauntless, trying to get his ship rearmed. But, Barron’s flagship was at the forward edge of the fleet, engaged at point blank range with Hegemony battleships. Whatever happened, however the Battle of Craydon ended, it would that finish would come before Stockton could land, rearm, and launch again.

  So, he activated his lasers, listening to the soft hum as the secondary weapons charged up to fire.

  He watched on his screen, as the fighters he’d led in planted torpedo after torpedo into the targeted ship, and finally, as the vessel shuddered, and great geysers of gas and liquids burst through the wounds in its hull, instantly freezing in the icy cold of space.

  The ship hadn’t lost containment, but Stockton would have bet his last credit the hulking wreck was the closest thing to dead. Stockton had always been very precise when it came to losses his forces inflicted, but he’d lost count long before. The Hegemony fleet was badly battered, worse than it had been at Megara, and he began to wonder if it really was possible. If the enemy might actually retreat.

  If the fleet could hold Craydon.

  Hold the Iron Belt.

  He paused as he saw a badly battered Hegemony ship, one with multiple large breaches in the hull, and he angled his thrust, nudged his vector toward his next target.

  If he could drop a laser blast into one of the gashes in the hull, just maybe he could do some meaningful damage.

  The battle wasn’t over, and he had no idea how it was going to end.

  But, he knew one thing without the slightest doubt.

  Every kill counted.

  More than that. Every hit counted.

  Chapter Forty

  Hegemony’s Glory

  Calvus System

  Year of Renewal 263 (318 AC)

  Chronos stared at the giant display in the center of his flagship’s control center. He’d resisted the urge to retreat to his sanctum, to the relief of solitude amid the indescribable carnage embroiling both his fleet and the forces of the Rim dwellers. The battle had been all but won, the enemy on the verge not just of defeat, but of annihilation. Then, somehow, reinforcements had arrived.

  The new ships were of various types, unlike any his forces had faced before. He suspected they were from the minor Rim nations, about which he knew little more than the mere fact that they existed. The new fleet that had arrived wasn’t really that strong, not relative to the massive forces that had contested at Megara, and again, at Craydon. But, they were fresh, and they’d arrived at a critical moment, blasting in from the transit point, almost directly at one of his flanks.

  Chronos had been determined to avoid ruinous losses to Grand Fleet in the Rim campaign, but somehow, despite his intent, he’d seen the great force, built up over generations, savaged, its numbers drastically reduced. It was still a massive force, and when the ships damaged at Craydon were repaired, it would remain stronger than its enemy’s. But it wasn’t nearly as powerful as it had been, and if the Others, so long little more than memory and legend, ever did return, his expedition against the Rim could well prove to be the Hegemony’s undoing, instead of the conquest that doubled its size and power.

  Worse, however, than taking such losses, would be to suffer those casualties for no gain. The Rim was massively productive, far more so than even the most aggressive estimates before the invasion. The records seized at Megara provided an insight into the industrial might of the group of systems called the Iron Belt. Integrating the Rim would vastly increase the Hegemony’s strength, and proper harnessing of the industry of the Confederation, in particular, would allow the fleet’s losses to be replaced in a matter of years.

  Still, he hesitated, unsure whether he should fight it out to the bitter end, to a victory he was almost sure his forces could still achieve? Or fall back on the logistics fleet at Megara and refit and rearm his ships for the fin
al battle another time?

  No…he was there, the fleet was there. He would not withdraw. The enemy had committed to battle, and he would destroy them.

  “Commander…there is activity at our entry transit point.”

  Chronos wasn’t expecting any reinforcements. Perhaps the logistics fleet had sent a force of repaired vessels forward. He hadn’t left any such orders, but he hadn’t left any procedure at all for the deployment of vessels coming out of the shipyards.

  It was a welcome development. Whatever forces were coming, they would be helpful. Anything that allowed him to defeat the enemy more quickly, to end the savage battle sooner, and with fewer losses, would be most welcome.

  * * *

  “It looks like we’ve got some kind of Hegemony force inbound, Admiral.” Atara was clearly trying to hide the horror in her tone, with far less success than she usually managed.

  Barron just stared at the display. He’d been trying to decide if he thought his people had any kind of chance, at least assuming the Hegemony commander stood in place and refused to retreat. If it came down to a fight to the very end, to the moment only one side had any ships left, who would that be? And, if it was the Hegemony, would they retain enough of a fleet to complete their conquest of the Rim? If not, he knew there could be a victory of some kind for his people, even in death.

  But, if the enemy was getting reinforcements…

  Any hope he’d been nursing quickly slipped away, and he could feel the blackness of despair coming on him.

  “Wait…”

  He snapped his head around. There was something about Atara’s tone. He paused for a few seconds, but when she didn’t elaborate, he asked, “What is it?”