Finally, Clint Winters spoke. “Tyler, I agree with you.” He paused for few seconds, looking around the enormous table. Then he continued, “I think we all agree with you. It is the only route to success, whether that chance of that is five percent or ninety-five. But what of the others? We are all military men and women…” His eyes caught Akella’s. She wasn’t military, at least not in her background…but he’d come to rely on her decisions. He almost excepted her from his statement, but she’d earned a place with the military, at least as far as he was concerned. “We will fight, whether our civilian masters argue to yield, whether some of our junior members would choose to discuss terms. We will fight…and I, for one, will not survive final defeat. So, let us proceed, with the only way the enemy has left to us.”

  Tyler Barron was glad to hear Winter’s words. He was one of those Barron wasn’t sure about, and he was glad to have him aboard.

  Or more accurately, probably, for Barron to be aboard.

  “I agree, with you, Clint…as I suspect everyone here does.” Barron turned toward Andi, surprised to hear her speak up. Things were going exactly as she wanted, and he wasn’t sure what she had to gain by talking. “Look, most of you knew where I stand on this. It’s not a secret. But I agreed to wait out the battle, to see if there was any chance we could win that way. For a short while, I even thought we might…but in the end we didn’t. Now, Tyler is aboard, as I suspect all of you are, whether it is because you really want it, or you just believe there is no option. Either way, I propose that I lead a small force out to the test planet…that I grab a few of the Highborn there. The infections should be making themselves apparent soon, and if we have some of them, we can see at once. If the formula works, if the Masters become sick, we will know at least that it works…and I’d wager we can next determine if there is some kind of medicine or other treatment that can alleviate it.”

  Andi paused, for a moment, and then she continued. “If the virus doesn’t work, or if the enemy has come up with some kind of vaccine or other treatment…we are lost. We will all have to decide whether to yield—assuming the enemy even takes prisoners among the military—or to find our own deaths.” She left no doubt where her own choice lay. “But if it does work, and if the enemy doesn’t have a treatment, then we’re back in this…at least with a chance of success. Whether we can truly achieve complete victory, eliminate the entire enemy population or not, we will have a deadly weapon, one that will change the fight forever.”

  Barron listened to Andi, knowing she was trying to hide her hatred for the Highborn. He hated them too, everyone present did, but he knew that Andi’s was on a different level. But despite her strong feelings, she had agreed to wait until his effort had failed. Now he had to support hers. Whether he thought it would work or not, it was the only possibility that remained.

  He sat silently for a while, as did everyone else, but he looked around, and he saw that everyone agreed with Andi. He even did. He had tried with all his might and skill to avoid this, to find another way. But there wasn’t one…and he realized his people were fortunate to have even the chance. Without the virus, he would be facing a hopeless defense…and an ultimate total defeat.

  Finally, Barron spoke. “I agree, Andi. It doesn’t matter whether anyone thought this was the best way to go before or not. And it doesn’t make any difference what the others think, the Senators and Council members and the like. This is a military decision.” Barron thought about that last part, about whether it was in fact just the choice of the military. He didn’t know how the enemy would respond, but he at least surmised that they might strike back, change their target from the conquest of humanity to its destruction. It’s utter destruction.

  But he didn’t care. From his point of view, there was no other choice, no option, and while he knew billions back home would have a different opinion, it didn’t rate with him. “This is the only option we can take now, the only way to give us a chance at victory. I say we do it, we do it and hope for the best, for success. But I don’t think we have the time to go just for the test planet. I think we have to assume the virus works…and we have to strike with it. Now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Highborn Flagship S’Argevon

  Imperial System GH3-2327

  Year of the Firstborn 391 (329 AC)

  “Brilliant, Tesserax, simply brilliant.” The words weren’t exactly true. Phazarax thought Tesserax had held back the reserves for longer than was necessary, that he’d lost more ships than he might have, and suffered greater damage to many units. But the result was the same. A decent amount of the enemy force had managed to escape, more perhaps than he would have liked to see, but it wasn’t enough to mount a real defense. Phazarax was sure the enemy was beaten, even if it took a few more years of fighting to prevail against all the remaining units and planets. He’d been of the opinion that the force had been strong enough to defeat the enemy, to drive them away from their great station…and he’d been correct. And despite the greater than expected losses the forces had suffered, Tesserax hadn’t even had to deploy the four special units. They were still a surprise, and an even deadlier one than they had been.

  “Thank you, Phazarax…your thoughts are greatly appreciated.” Tesserax had been easier to get along with in the months before the assault. He’d known that his forces were probably sufficient to knock out the enemy, but Phazarax suspected the doubts were still present. Now, Tesserax had accomplished enough to secure his position, probably through the remaining several years of battle. Phazarax was glad, he had a reasonable relationship with Tesserax, and he’d chosen to keep that if possible. But he was a bit concerned as well, a bit afraid that his ‘friend’ bore failure better than success.

  “Part of me wants to chase them now…but a quick look at the fleet tells me we’ve got to do some repairs first.” He paused a few seconds, then added, “Though not long enough to allow the enemy to complete any meaningful reinforcement. Do you agree?”

  “I have considered just those thoughts. I believe the decision is close…but I am inclined to agree. If we were only discussing the phase three ships, it would be easier, but we have the four greater vessels too, most likely still unknown to the enemy. In the end, it was a very close decision…but I agree, we have to conduct some repairs first. Four months…six at an absolute maximum. Then we will proceed forward…and we will engage whatever enemy forces remain.” He was silent, for just a few seconds. Then he added, “Then we will begin the final part of the effort, the complete destruction of the human empires, and the establishment of Highborn rule over humanity everywhere.”

  Phazarax nodded. He was a bit concerned about his partner’s apparent return to self-assurance, but Tesserax still seemed to be guided mostly by solid reasoning. “I am pleased that we agree, Tesserax, truly pleased.”

  “I am, as well, Phazarax. I will tell you, and you alone, I was beginning to fear that the enemy would find a way to hold out, and the Supreme Leader would have acted…aggressively. I am grateful that I was able to win…in time.”

  Phazarax understood what Tesserax was saying, and he understood. He knew it was a weakness of sorts, admitting to his concerns…but it also told him that his associate had not lost sight of the enemy’s skills, their capabilities. They were dangerous…Phazarax knew that, and he was glad to find that Tesserax did as well.

  “We have entered the final phase of the confrontation, Tesserax. The enemy is beaten, and though some portion of their forces will fight on, likely to the end, there is no more hope…if indeed there ever was. You have succeeded in your endeavor, Tesserax…and you will see it through to the end, to an illustrious victory.” His words were chosen, carefully constructed based on the situation. But they were true as well, for the most part. He would have handled things differently than Tesserax if he’d been in command, but he had learned enough from the humans to realize that they would have fought bravely against him as well. He’d learned a lesson, from his own experiences with the humans as well as Tesserax’s, and he realized they were more capable than he had imagined at first. They would lose the fight, certainly, but Phazarax would save as many as possible of the best of the enemy. They were worth it, worth the extra effort to bring into line.

  He wondered how Tesserax felt, whether he wanted to save the enemy leaders, at least as many as possible…or whether he wanted them all dead.

  * * *

  Percelax sat quietly, smiling to himself as his forces prepared to jump. His actions were all guesses really, but he had a good notion that Tesserax would attack soon—if he had not already done so. That was good, and he was sure Tesserax’s forces would prevail, and probably by a considerable margin. He was equally certain the overall commander would send orders for him to hold, to await further action. That made perfect sense, at least to most points of view. Why risk an operation against the enemy so much deeper in, when their fleet had been destroyed…or at least badly damaged.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted.

  He knew he would benefit anyway, just being part of the command structure of Tesserax’s victory. But he realized he would gain more esteem, far more, if he was successful on his own. His record was currently 0-1, and that total looked bad, far worse than it really was. He wanted to at least equal that total, and do it with the second fight, the larger and more important one. He knew the victory would reflect well on him, even as Tesserax took the bulk of the glory. He was fine with that, with just part of the credit, but he knew his commander wanted it all, or as much as he could claim.

  “Begin the attack…the first ships are to advance.” That was why he had pushed his forces, done everything possible to prepare for the attack, pushing them forward at an almost impossible rate. He had the authority, even if that was only because no one back in the main headquarters thought it was possible for him to strike so soon. He was sure his orders to remain in place would come as soon as Tesserax’s battle was over, but it would take weeks and weeks for it to reach him. The trail back to the main fleet was long, stretching over a distant arc…and with his speed, he had managed to get into position. Far more quickly than he guessed Tesserax had imagined possible.

  He had managed to organize the fleet for the assault as well, the one that would secure for him his share of the glory. He had put his ships through hell, even as they were moving at maximum speed toward the battle. He had done everything he could think of, taken every precaution, every measure he could think of. His mind made up a million excuses for the previous defeat, and while many of them were self-serving and pointless, his realization that he had almost prevailed last time—that if he’d been willing to really push, he might have actually won—was perfectly valid.

  “The attack has begun, Commander. The forward force has started to advance.”

  Percelax nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He’d given the orders, and his fleet was lined up, ready to advance. It was time to prevail, and he told himself retreat wasn’t an option this time. He simply had to take the system, and damn the consequences.

  Damn them to hell.

  * * *

  “I want scouts sent after the enemy fleet. I want to know where they are, every minute. If they separate, I want to know. Is that understood? Take as many small ships as you need, Barterax, and engage as required. But don’t lose any major force. Understood?” Tesserax was being far tighter than he had been, and despite his own—and apparently everyone else’s—opinion that he had prevailed, he was still operating at a strange level of urgency. Part of him had expected the enemy fleet to fight on, regardless of what he poured into the battle. There was no better chance out there, for retreating, not really, no other way he could imagine the enemy prevailing. But they’d pulled out the instant his reserves began to appear.

  And they’d executed their withdrawal brilliantly, better than he’d imagined.

  It wasn’t good enough, though, and he’d intercepted dozens of enemy ships that were damaged, vessels that were racing for escape. Some ships made it away, but many didn’t. He had ordered his pursuing vessels to go full speed toward the enemy’s escape point…but no farther. Chasing even a defeated enemy was difficult, and Tesserax had decided to stop…for the moment.

  The enemy was battered, and while he didn’t know where they would retreat, he knew their options were poor. There was no place in the Hegemony that was even a close match to the system he’d just taken, no position he couldn’t just slip around. He even hoped the foolish enemy would begin building a new base in a poorly located system…though he didn’t believe that would happen. He’d come to respect the foe, in spite of his earlier feelings, and he was fairly sure they would retreat back to the Confederation border. That was good, in the sense that it would leave the rest of the Hegemony to him, and provide more systems he could take and advise HQ back home about, but it was bad in the context that it was probably the strongest plan, especially if the Hegemony forces remained with them.

  But it wouldn’t be enough. He had decided he would keep his fleet together, every unit he could assemble, and he would pursue the enemy. He would stay in touch with them as they pulled back, and he would launch his full force at them in four months, six at the outside. That wasn’t enough time to fix his entire fleet, not even close, but assuming he could pull up sufficient portable units, to match the fleet bases he’d established around, he could do enough repairs.

  The enemy would bring in new ships as well, and pushing them back on their lines only drove them closer to the booming Confederation production lines. He was mystified at the number of Confederation hulls he had engaged, and he still couldn’t quite figure out where all of them had come from. Especially since the enemy had assembled another force at Fortress Grimaldi, to counter the battered Union, and the relatively small forces he had sent there.

  He knew Percelex well, understood the way the commander of the force’s mind worked. He even respected it, in a sense. Percelax wanted to open a second engagement. He wanted to erase any disgrace that remained from his defeat in the same place. And he would have the chance to do just that. But as part of the final move against the Confederation, in six months and not now. Tesserax had already sent the orders, to continue to assemble the force, both additional Highborn ships and the growing Union contingent…but not to attack without specific orders from him to do so.

  He wondered for a moment, if Percelax had managed to move his forces more quickly than he’d assumed, if he’d positioned himself to attack…before the word came not to attack. He didn’t think so, but he didn’t really care either. If Percelax was aggressive, if he managed to launch his assault before he got the orders not to…it was fine. He would likely prevail, and take Fortress Grimaldi, leaving the enemy in even worse shape than they were, possibly with a final battle line not along the frontier, but in the Iron Belt itself.

  And if he failed…well if he failed, he would do incredible damage to the Confederation forces, and to what was left of Grimaldi…and Tesserax would be free of one more officer who was useful, but in the end, just a hanger on.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Fleet Base Grimaldi

  Krakus System

  Year 329 AC (After the Cataclysm)

  “Sam…you’ve got a huge part of the fleet…remember that. I’ve got Grimaldi, and the shorter ranged units surrounding it, but most of the rest is yours.” Colin Simpson sat, as close to bolt upright as he could bring himself. He had sent out a bunch of messages to fleet units, all through Larson James. He’d taken James onto his staff reluctantly, as a last choice, but despite his doubts, the man had performed brilliantly, something all the more important since he longstanding aide, Isaac Johnson, had been loaned out to Taggart, and bumped up to command two dozen ships.

  Still, Taggart he communicated with directly. It was only fitting, as she was his second in command, but it was also necessary. Taggart was a perfect officer, aside from her tendency to swear. She was clearly trying to cut back on it, with some success, but Simpson was well trained to get her on a direct line whenever possible.

  “Colin, I just want to address the breakdowns again. You’ve given me too much. I was just a captain a few months ago. It was enough of a bolt upward last time to give me Constellation…much less a big chunk of the fleet. Now, I’ve got more than twice as much as last time.”

  “Sam, you can handle it…and to be honest, even if you couldn’t, you’re the best we’ve got, so you’re going to have to do your best.” He held back some of what he truly believed, that she was the best officer present, himself included. There was no point. They had their positions already, and while he had the authority to relieve her, he supposed, he didn’t have the ability to make her number one and himself number two.

  But he could give her a large portion of the fleet…perhaps too large. And he had done just that.

  “Colin…I mean…” She was silent for a moment, and Simpson knew he was being spared a litany of curses. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “Your welcome. Now, why don’t you…”

  Simpson froze, his own eyes catching the image as quickly as Jaymes’s. Though the aide’s warning came through while he was still staring at the screen. “Enemy ship…” And possibly the appearance of the entire enemy fleet. Though Jaymes didn’t say that last part, Simpson heard it, nevertheless.

  “Sam, we’ve got at least one enemy—no two now—coming in. I don’t know if it’s the attack we’ve been expecting, but we’d better be ready, just in case it is.”

  “I hear you, Colin. Good luck Admiral.” There was clearly no doubt in her voice that the two enemy ships—three now—was the main attack they’d been waiting for.

  “And good luck to you, too, Commodore.” He flipped off the comm unit, and he turned toward Jaymes. “Five ships so far…we’ve got to assume this is the attack we’ve been waiting for. Message to the entire fleet.”