Still, Barron had a small ship maintaining its readiness, and he was prepared to order the doctors to leave with Stockton regardless of their opinions. He wasn’t sure how far he would go, how deep into battle he would allow the station and its huge fleet to get before he issued the order. But he knew he would send Stockton on his way before the station was destroyed. Whether he actually survived it was up to him.

  He fixed his eyes on the main screen. There were over 200 enemy ships already present, with another one coming in every few seconds. He knew the enemy fleet would be big, but in truth, he didn’t have any real idea what to expect. That, at least, he would know soon enough. So far, it was an enemy force he could take…but he had no true expectation of what was coming in total. If it was as big as the last fleet, he had a chance, barely. If it was bigger, well, whatever prospects his fleet had sunk rapidly.

  “Forward line…prepare to advance.” He had been a bit timid before, held his forces back. But now he realized, he had to take advantage of any benefit he had, even if it wouldn’t last. He had positioned his forces somewhat forward of their position during the last battle…and now he was going to send them in. He was well aware of the dangers of tying his fleet up so far, but he knew the battle about to commence was the last chance to stop the enemy. If he lost the battle, he was sure he would lose the fight to eradicate the enemy.

  Losing the fight about to begin would be bad, but he didn’t see any route to victory aside from it. Except for the last effort…and to be honest, he didn’t think that would work. They might kill a large number of the enemy—if the serum worked and if the enemy had not cured it already—but not enough. And if effort made the enemy decide to destroy the humans instead of capturing them…well, they possessed almost two hundred billion Hegemony citizens just as a starting point.

  “Line is ready, sir…they’re awaiting your word.”

  Barron nodded. He knew what he had to do. He’d considered it a hundred different ways, and he’d discussed it with all his friends and co-workers. They had all agreed. But now that the time had come, he was not so sure. He would hit the enemy before they were all through, that much was true. But if there were more of the enemy, more than he could handle, his forces would be farther forward. He almost reversed course, ordering his people to stand back. But then, he realized that everyone had agreed…and even that his position as commander of the combined fleet was simply the result of an informal agreement. He couldn’t change things, not now. There wasn’t time to disturb all his colleagues with something that could be, almost certainly was, just his nerves.

  “All ships…attack.”

  * * *

  “You heard the command. Forward, all units. Let’s hit the enemy hard. We don’t know what’s coming, but we know what is here. So, let’s hit it and hit it hard.”

  Atara listened to Clint Winters’s voice, as it was coming through on every Confederation ship in the formation. She was number three now, in the Confederation command, by nothing less than Tyler Barron’s order. The man she was listening to was number two, and to her, far above her and not just one rung up. She knew her promotion was ahead of several other officers, but she also realized, she had been behind for a long time, and there was fairness in it, of a kind at least.

  Assuming she wanted it, which she wasn’t sure she did. The truth was, while she didn’t have any thoughts that Barron lacked, she tended to believe their chances were small…and she was closer to coming around to the belief that the only real hope was to truly attack the enemy, to fight to the end. The real end.

  “Alright, people…you heard Admiral Winters. All ships…forward.” Whatever she believed, about the chance for victory, or about other alternatives, she knew where she was now. Whether or not she believed they had a good chance, she was already in the fight. And one thing Atara knew about herself…once she was in the battle, she was in.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  She heard the confirmation, and she just nodded her assent. She was focused, staring straight ahead. Dauntless was once a model of the best the Confederation navy had, but it had been eclipsed by the Excalibur-class…and a number of others. Dauntless was still a powerful ship, of course, but she would still have to endure enemy fire for at least 30,000 meters. Her side to side maneuvering gave her a decent chance of closing to enemy range, at least, but Atara knew she would lose ships before the enemy did. That was just a facet of facing so many enemy vessels with longer ranges.

  So be it. We will face whatever.

  She felt her doubts fading. They weren’t gone, but she had the ability to focus on the fight at hand. Whether her forces could win could only be decided by the battle, and what they would have to do to get there was already decided. Now, there was just one thing left to do.

  Fight.

  She stared at the screen, watching the distance countdown. The enemy fleet would open fire soon, and no matter how well her ships evaded, she knew she’d lose some before they were able to fire. The first battles with the enemy were harsh, but the Highborn had learned from their experiences, just as her people had. The incoming fire was focused now, designed to accomplish the most possible before it became a true two-way fight. If her ships performed their evasion a bit better, fewer would die, at least before they could fire. But only three of the Confederation vessels, all under Winters’ command, could actually shoot at close to the enemy ranges. It was one of the worst disadvantages her people had been forced to deal with, and even if the difference had declined somewhat, it was still probably the enemy’s greatest superiority.

  She watched as her ships moved into range of the enemy ships. She wasn’t sure exactly what distance the enemy would open fire at—there wasn’t so much an actual range as a point the enemy’s targeting and the impact of the weapon would make sense. There was judgment there, whether to open fire at longer range, with lower effectiveness, or shorter distances, with more power. The enemy had done both before, but as she pressed onward, she realized they were waiting this time.

  Longer even, than before, she realized, as her forces moved more than twenty thousand kilometers beyond the farthest the enemy had opened fire at.

  Still, there was no fire. Thirty thousand kilometers…and the three superbattleships in Winter’s command opened fire first. The vessels were enormously powerful, but there were only three of them. They were welcome…but they weren’t decisive. Not alone.

  Two of them scored hits on the first shot, an edge, she realized, especially at the length of the range. One enemy ship was badly damaged, and the other moderately so. It was relatively meaningless, she realized, nothing that made much of an impact on the overall fight. But she still found herself cheering, surprised that her side had scored the first hits.

  Thirty-five thousand kilometers. She was below the lowest range the enemy had ever used to open fire. She was beginning to get unnerved. In another fifteen thousand kilometers, her fleet would open fire. She couldn’t believe the enemy was waiting so long.

  And she knew they wouldn’t wait until she entered range.

  They didn’t. At forty thousand kilometers, the enemy’s forward line opened fire…as one. The blasts came forward, hundreds of them…and they were aimed at only ten ships. Most of the shots missed…but the ten targets all received hits, and four of them were badly battered. One of them was knocked out completely, and Atara wondered if the ship’s com was out…or if everyone on board was dead.

  She didn’t find out, at least not just then. A second wave of shots rang out. Again, more than ninety-five percent of them missed. But the ones that hit, struck hard. Two of the damaged ships were destroyed, and half a dozen others were hurt.

  But it was almost time for her own ships to open up. She faced one more round of fire, with only the three superbattleships responding, and then her own battleships would be in range, too. That didn’t mean her forces would gain the advantage, but they would definitely start shooting down enemy ships as well as losing them.

  The timeclock advanced, and just before her ships opened fire, the enemy forces fired a controlled volley. Almost ten percent of the shots hit her forces, and four more ships were destroyed or at least taken out of the fight. It was worse than she’d expected, worse than her lowest expectation. But now her ships could fire, too.

  She looked straight ahead, and she mouthed one word.

  “Fire.”

  * * *

  Chronos watched his ships open fire, and he saw the effect. His flagship was dead on, and it scored no less than fifty percent hits, but overall, it was a rather weak effort. He knew the morale of his forces, between seeing the Confederation rising in prominence, and just in dealing with a conflict that had cost more than half its worlds, was declining. In some cases, sinking rapidly. He understood, knew that he had forces that had families left behind, men and women who were dead, or who had probably been turned over to the enemy. Or even who’d received the Collar, a terrible result to any non-controlled person.

  Chronos understood…but he knew the only way to overturn the enemy attack, to free those who had survived on occupied worlds, was to win the war. The only problem was, he didn’t believe it any more than the rest of them did. He would fight, he would struggle onward, but he had begun to wonder when his people, still officially part of the Hegemony’s old system, would begin to think more for themselves. He had met with relatively little trouble yet, though it was perhaps double what he’d seen before, but he was sure if the current battle was lost, he would see vastly more problems.

  He would be more of a problem, too. He had held firmly to Tyler Barron’s plan, and he had to admit, so far, he had endured more than he could have imagined. He’d steadily lost influence too, as his own production levels slid to virtual meaninglessness next to the almost unbelievable production of the Confederation. He needed the Confeds, like he’d never needed anything before…but he was sure if the current battle was lost, his vital ally would opt to retreat, well past the entire Hegemony, and into the Confederation itself.

  Unless they decided to launch the last-ditch effort to destroy the Highborn. Chronos had tried to avoid it, tried to think of continuing the fight. But he knew, as well as he could, that not even Tyler Barron could prevent the retreat if the battle was lost…and his own allies, the Council, would never agree to yield up the last of the territory it controlled. They might support the decision to strike at the enemy with the final weapon…but short of that, they would try to fight, even if it was just them.

  And they would lose. Badly.

  Then, after they were defeated, some might actually retreat to Confederation space…but others would probably yield to the enemy, and they would help bring legitimacy to the occupation. Chronos liked to believe that no meaningful percentage of the established Kriegeri would agree to join the enemy, though he was far from sure of that. At their heart, the divisions of Hegemony culture were only guidelines. If the enemy came in and declared the Masters replaced, would those who had always served rise up?

  He didn’t know, and he tried not to allow himself to care. He had a battle raging, and if he was doubtful of his ability to win it, he was far from sure. His people were going in, and he had promised himself one hundred percent to it. If he lost—and survived—then he would decide what to do next.

  But for right now, he would fight…he would fight like no one ever had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Forward Base Striker

  Vasa Denaris System

  Year 329 AC (After the Cataclysm)

  Barron watched the battle unfolding before him. The enemy ships were still coming through, and that was a point of endless concern. When would the enemy force finish its transit? When would the last ship come through?

  There had been a hesitation, about an hour without any transit. He had been sure the enemy would have some more ships, but as the time continued to pass, he’d imagined that he was wrong, that the enemy actually didn’t have more vessels. He told himself they were as backed up with damaged ships as he was, that his shipyards had actually superseded theirs.

  Then, the progression resumed…and it had continued since.

  The second enemy force, the ships that had transited after the delay, stood back for a moment, holding off their involvement for close to another hour…before the first batch headed forward. Then, he picked up the ship his records stated had been the enemy’s flagship in the prior battle…and he believed the enemy commander was present.

  The fighting was beyond the station, at least so far. He’d sent his ships in, expecting the enemy to pour forward from the transit point the instant they were able to come through. But now, the second half of the enemy force had given his ships added time to hurt the forward vessels, and his people seemed to be winning. Whether they were winning enough to prevail against the enemy’s second line depended on how large it was. And even while the first part of it was just beginning to advance, more was still coming through the point.

  Still, the battle was going well…too well, perhaps. Everything Barron could see was better than he’d expected. It was what he’d hoped to see, how he’d felt in his wildest fantasies. But now, it was different. He found himself not believing it, assuming the enemy’s second wave would be even larger than the first. Something was wrong, he was sure of that…suddenly.

  “Send word to the top commanders…I want to speak to them all.” The words were stark, unexpected, even by him. But he’d said them, nevertheless.

  “Yes, sir…just a minute.”

  Barron nodded, and as he thought, he decided even more assuredly. He couldn’t explain it…by every measure, his forces were getting the best of the fight so far. But he wanted them back…now. They would have a chance, for a little while. The enemy first line was disordered, battered. His forces could probably pull back before the first tranche of the second line reached them…if they moved now. That didn’t make much sense, of course, not with the enemy approaching from behind. He might still lose, but he couldn’t have hoped the battle would have gone better. Still, something told him to pull back. Now.

  “Top commanders all assembled, sir. On your line.”

  Barron just nodded to the officer, and he tapped the comm. “I’m sorry to disturb you all now…I know you’ve got a lot going on.” He paused a moment, trying to decide exactly how to put it. He’d sent his ships forward, and that had worked better than he’d hoped. Now, he was going to pull them all back. He wondered if any of his people would understand, if he even did. “I want all of you to disengage, to pull back.”

  He waited, just a couple seconds, while the signal traveled the distance to the ships of the fleet, and the first response came back. He’d hoped it would be from Atara or Clint. He was far from sure they would agree, of course, but they were the ones most likely to at least listen, if only because they were officially under him.

  But the first response was from Vian Tulus. The Alliance Imperator was the commander of the fleet’s third force, and the least advanced. And he almost always agreed with Barron. But this time, his blood was up. “That is not possible…not now! We have the enemy, and even if they continue to bring in more ships, we have the best chance possible!”

  Tyler wasn’t surprised at Tulus’s remarks, especially since he didn’t have anything but a feeling to back up his own. The officers would have to agree with him. His position as commander-in-chief was still informal, and they would all have to take his position, in spite of what appeared to be the best possible situation in the fight so far.

  Barron knew all the officers would respond, and he didn’t want to allow the time to pass. They would all say the same thing…they didn’t know if they were going to win, but they thought the situation was as good as it could be. Barron knew that…because he had felt the same way. Until a few moments before.

  “Look,” he said, speaking over the others starting their own comments. “The enemy has never been this careless. Perhaps they didn’t expect us to advance so quickly, I’ll admit that’s a possibility. But think, really think. The enemy we’ve faced, would they really advance in such a sloppy way? Would they leave over an hour before sending in their second group? Or are they exactly where they are supposed to be? The enemy has been a difficult fight, always. Are you willing to believe that after the last battle, they would enter this one with less planning? Are you prepared to bet your lives on it?”

  Barron didn’t know how he had done with the others, not yet, but he was surer than ever that sending his forces so far forward was foolish. He just knew.

  “Tyler, you’re asking us to give up the best chance of victory we’ve had, to pull back and allow the enemy to transit all of their forces in. Can you give us more…why?”

  Tyler was glad to hear Atara next. She was the one most trained to following his orders, and he guessed she would be the most easily convinced. And he was actually the commander of the Confederation forces, which mean that she, and Clint Winters, would have to obey his orders ultimately…or take things to another level.

  “Atara…I don’t have anything more. I just think we’re doing what the enemy wants us to do.” He paused for a moment, and then he said, “What would you do if you were the enemy? If you had more ships, and if you wanted to finish us here?”

  The comm was silent for a moment. Then, Chronos came on. Barron knew he was probably the most crucial one. His own subordinates would obey his orders in the end, he believed that. And Tulus would as well, though he would probably put up the biggest fight. But Chronos…

  The top commander of the Hegemony forces would need to retreat, he told himself…he couldn’t stand alone against the enemy if everyone else pulled back. But he wasn’t sure. Not until an instant later, when his voice broke through.