Opening Moves (31 page)

“Much of the convoy made it,” Batal said, the mercenary's voice still cool and calm. “Now what?”

“
Now we try and escape, Mr. Batal. Ready us for transition.”

“
Warp generators have taken damage, Ma'am,” he warned Natara. “There's a good chance they'll blow.”

“
Well, at least it won't have been the Dominion who has killed us then. Do it. Spool up the drive.”

The PERISAI shunted power and began to rip apart space to create its own warp field, an egg-shaped bubble extending several kilometers around the ship.

“Captain, one of the freighters is heading this way!”

Natara checked the sensor reports. One of the ships she'd assumed was destroyed was heading their way at high speed, a whole wing of fighters behind it.

“They're heading right for us?”

“
Yes, Ma'am,” he paused. “I've got her on the comm.”

“
Put 'em through.”

“
...Republican ship! This is the human freighter
IRON MAIDEN
. Our
Malenkov-Okuda
engines have been destroyed. We've got two thousand of your people on board. Requesting permission to ride piggyback in your warp bubble. Republican ship! This is...
”

Two thousand...! Narata took a deep breath. Maybe she could still snatch a small victory from the jaws of defeat after all. She nodded, coming to a decision in her mind. “Hold position, keep the engines spooled up.”

“Captain, please! We can only maintain the energy levels for a transition for about a minute before the engines burn out!” Batal called. Finally, survival was so tantalizingly close for them that all they had to do was just leave.

“
I gave an order, Mr. Batal.” She said firmly, staring down the Komerco. “Hold here.”

* * * * * * *

“Oh thank the Lord,” Tarek exhaled. “They've got the message. Get us to that cruiser now, Duchess! Give it all she's got.”

“
Believe me, I ain't holding back, boss,” Alexej muttered, sweat running down his forehead as his eyes remained transfixed on the plot.

Ashani fighters were still shooting, the bright energy beams zipping past the ship and occasionally hitting. Tarek prayed they weren't doing heavy damage or breaching the passenger compartments. A Swiftpaw blazed past them and did a back flip only a few kilometers ahead of them. It fired at the cockpit itself, the thin plasma laser beam cutting into the forward hull dangerously close to them. He was temporarily blinded as Annie put a flurry of railgun rounds through the fighter's fuel cells, reducing it to glowing scrap the size of coins. When his vision returned the window was filled with the battered hull of the Érenni cruiser. Momentarily it seemed to blur, the stars and blackness of space washing together in soapy streak. There was a short, barely noticeable flash and the vista changed to the endless whirling grays of foldspace. They had made it.

Behind them was a wasteland, a cluttered field of wrecked ships, destroyed fighters and dead bodies. The colony was gone, slowly being murdered by a genetically manipulated plague and bombed into ruin from orbit. The Ashani were careful to limit the destruction of Senfina's infrastructure. But the planet's biggest value to them was the opportunity to show the Pact and the rest of the galaxy what they could expect if they chose to get into their way. There was no quarter, no surrender, no hope of survival. For the Ashani this was about the life and death of their species, and by their actions they had shown that the Pact was in the same position. To lose was to be exterminated, and the slaughter at Senfina was just a small glimpse of the terrors yet to come.

“
Oaths? What does an oath even mean nowadays? They make you swear and swear. Defend the council. Obey the council. Serve the people. Control the people. Your life for theirs. Stand for justice. Stand for the law. Protect the innocent. Protect the state.

But what if the state oppresses the innocent? What if the law is unjust. What if the council ignores the wishes of the people it is supposed to serve? Freedom and justice outweigh oaths of fealty.”

–
General Emile Danton, Eridani Militia, 2795 C.E.

C H A P T E R  8

Dreadnought CLAWBLADE, 3
rd
Dominion Fleet.

June, 2797 C.E.

“We have a minor problem,” High Strategos Kalla'shan addressed Corr'tane on the secure fleetnet channel. He had been waiting anxiously for news from the Érenni front where his sister was engaged in combat. When the system had shown an incoming message he opened it with great expectation, only to be disappointed by the image of his commander in chief and mentor. Immediately he felt ashamed for the thought. He had great respect, even affection, for the old leader and should have been glad to hear from him. He had raised his chin and offered a formal salute.

“
And this problem is, sir?”

“
Our attack on the Tuathaan Clanholds is stalling. Our first target there was the Báine star system. We knew they had heavily fortified it during the past year, but it also offers six very stable foldspace corridors deeper into Tuathaan space and is rich in heavy metals. Naval Intelligence also believed that if we applied pressure at the right points we could split up the enemy fleet along clan lines and defeat each of them
en detail
. As you know Strategos Tear'al is leading the battle.”

Corr'tane nodded without any other sign of emotion.

“It seems resistance is stronger than expected and his ships have been unable to break the Tuathaan defense. Whatever one might have believed about the clanholds and their incessant bickering they do seem able to present a united front against outward threats. As we speak Tear'al's 12
th
Fleet is barely holding its ground against a heavy counterattack.”

Corr'tane bowed his head to hide a grin. He had predicted that Tear'al would make a fool of himself if he ever tried to lead a real battle against a determined enemy fleet. Attacking the Makani with their handful of ships and obsolete technology was one thing. The Tuathaan played in a different league.

“I do not see the loss of good soldiers and valuable ships as cause for amusement,” Kalla'shan said sternly.

“
No sir, of course not,” Corr'tane straightened, but a voice inside his head wanted to reply with an 'I told you so!'

“
I know you predicted this, but that doesn't give you the right to sneer at fellow officers. Tear'al is a good strategos.”

“
May I speak plainly?” Corr'tane asked flatly.

“
Always,” the High Strategos nodded. He had learned that while Corr'tane lacked the tact and subtle speech expected of other high ranking officers, what he said was usually right.

“
He is a good
intelligence officer
, but a poor field commander,” the young strategos explained. “Giving him an operational command was a mistake, politically and militarily. To Tear'al it's just a way to gain more power and prestige, which he will probably try and use to usurp your position, sir.”

“
And you have evidence for this?”

“
I have instinct, sir,” Corr'tane answered without hesitation. “Not enough to prove anything, but enough to be prepared.”

Kalla'shan settled back, suddenly looking very tired and weary. “I know I am old, and that soon my days will end.”

“Not soon, sir. I expect many years will pass before…”

“
That is not necessary,” he sharply cut Corr'tane off. “I'm not in the need of platitudes! I've decided that should my time come it'll be you who will replace me. You already know this, but the decision is the Emperor's alone, and the Emperor is a puppet of the strategoi.”

The Emperor of the Dominion was a weak-minded individual, a mere figurehead of its military - and specifically Tear'al. As head of the
Eye of Satevis
he ultimately also was in charge of state propaganda, of influencing the people of the Ashani race to do what the strategoi needed. This control over public sentiment gave him great power during any future leadership contests.

Corr'tane knew this. His only hope was to make sure his own successes in the war were greater than his, and luckily that seemed like it was about to happen. “Then whoever dominates High Command rules the Dominion. And for as long as I can think that has always been you, sir. I doubt even Tear'al, for all his ambition, would challenge you openly.”

“But I will not always be here, and soon you and he will be in line to rule our people, if not
de jure
then at least
de facto
. You must be the one who succeeds,” Kalla'shan nodded. “You are the future of our people.”

“
I promise your wishes will be seen to, one way or another.”

“
Well, this is your chance,” the old man allowed himself one of his rare chuckles. “I give you a chance to shine, to prove your prowess and to highlight his failures. Where Tear'al has failed to break the Tuathaan you will succeed. Your orders are to take your fleet and attack in support of Tear'al. Bail out 12
th
Fleet and rescue him from the damn mess he has created. I'm sure you'll agree that has a nice portent to it.”

“
Rescuing my rival?” he mulled it over. “I can see that helping my future claim to the position of High Strategos, but I will do it in my way, with your permission.”

“
You have free rein, Corr'tane. Do as you will. Just make sure the offensive gets back on schedule.”

“
As you wish, sir.” He bowed, and when he returned to his stance the screen was blank and the image gone. He had his orders, and a responsibility not only to help the fleets fighting and losing under Strategos Tear'al, but to establish himself as the preeminent military leader of his people. Kalla'shan believed in him, and he would not fail him.

The system chirped again.

“Computer, recorded message from fleetnet received.” He straightened again ready to receive the High Strategos.

Instead the image showed a bloodied face and a wrecked bridge, a darkened and torn picture of something so familiar, and yet it made him gasp in joy.

“Brother,” Pyshana smiled. Widely. “It's over. We made it. Senfina is ours.”

And that was all he needed to hear before bursting out in relieved laughter and tears of pure joy.

Akvô, Homeworld of the Érenni Republics.

Two Weeks Later, July 2797 C.E.

A bleak picture greeted the IRON MAIDEN as it transitioned back to normal space in company with the last survivors from Senfina. They had lost three more ships on the long trip in the broad corridor that connected what had once been the colony of Senfina with the Érenni home system. Their warp bubbles had collapsed under full speed, leaving the crews to quick but gruesome deaths. Three star systems lay in between, minor outposts used mainly for scientific reasons or chartered by mining syndicates. None of these stars was the parent to an M-class planet and thus was host only to small population sizes living and working in science stations and domed outposts. It was unlikely the Dominion would waste much time on any of them.

Akvô's sun greeted them as they materialized, a small yellow pearl very much like the one humanity had developed under. Ships seemed to mill around with no real sense of direction and no idea what to do next. Among the survivors there was a state of disbelief, an inability to accept the horrific events they had all witnessed had actually occurred. The colony's defenses had fallen so quickly, and the Ashani approach to warfare was like nothing the Republics and their people had ever experienced before. The Dominion's ruthless assault and its utter disregard for life – be it the life of its own soldiers or the enemy's – had been something the quickly cobbled together defensive forces of the Érenni had been totally unprepared for. It had been as much a psychological defeat for the Republics as it had been a material one.

“Cruiser PERISAI, thanks for the help,” Captain Winters wearily announced via the comm. The escape had tired out the whole crew. For a fortnight they had tried their damn best to keep the damaged ship from falling apart. They were at the end of their strength now. “We couldn't have made it without your help.”