Now, at least, she would see Barron again. She realized she’d been more than ready not to encounter him again…she’d actually expected it, on one level at least. But he’d already called out, the instant her ship was in range. Both of them had survived, so far at least. Andi was grateful for the chance to see him again. She thought about her daughter, too, who was far away, who had seen nothing more than a few videotaped messages in well over a year…but then she forced those considerations away. It was too painful, and she knew Cassie was as well off as she could be.

  “We’re about to dock with Dauntless, Commodore.”

  Andi looked over at Tarren, and she realized how glad she was that her subordinate—her friend—had survived. He had taken a hit as well, worse than hers, but the two of them were both on the bridge. Neither of them should be, Andi supposed…but she wasn’t going to yield her position, and she wasn’t going to make her friend do it either.

  “That’s good, Ross. Bring us in.” Her voice was as cheery as she could imagine, at least with her growing sensation that the entire effort to infect the enemy had failed. She knew the virus, if not exact, was close to the one the First Imperium had used, that her people would get it eventually.

  But she was just as sure there was no time for that. Her last shreds of hope were that the infection did work, that it just took longer than she had expected. But every day that went by drained that a little bit more…and she was certain there was no other chance.

  “Yes, Commodore…as you command.” Tarren spoke in as upbeat a manner as he could manage, but Andi saw through it. If her subordinate had really believed, maybe she could have drawn from him, extended her own period of belief. But she could tell that Tarren saw things exactly as she did.

  She sighed, softly, trying to focus on seeing Tyler…and for a moment, getting away from the cold realities she—and everyone else—faced. However bad things were, however much they were drawn steadily closer to the end…there were some good things as well. Tyler was alive, and the fleet was a lot closer than she’d expected. That was good…certainly, even if only for a little while.

  She tried to smile, but she only managed about half-way…and that was going to have to do.

  * * *

  Barron sat at the head of the table, looking out at the assortment of warriors assembled. He realized how many that he knew, how many great soldiers, both alive, like those present, and dead already, killed in the more than twenty years that he’d been fighting.

  Almost four months had gone by since the battle at Fortress Striker, and Barron was amazed that the enemy hadn’t even pushed out, experimented with driving him off. He knew that Andi had been surprised to find the fleet still so far forward, too, though she hadn’t said anything about it. He suspected every warrior who had returned—and despite the considerable losses all four forces had suffered, the commanders had all survived—was surprised.

  But the three Highborn that Andi had brought back from Beta Telara III showed no signs of infection. Two of the three had been seriously injured, and one had almost died, in the fighting, but there was no indication that the infection had set in.

  It was only what Barron had expected, and yet he realized that he had harbored considerable hopes that it would work, more than he’d allowed his conscious mind to absorb.

  “Well, it is good to have all of you back…” He had seen everyone already, but this was the first large meeting they’d held since right after the battle. Barron was low, depressed, and beaten…but he tried to press on, to move forward with everything he had, or could pretend to have. “It is good to see you all again.” That was nothing but the hard truth. He wouldn’t have given a five percent chance that everyone assembled would be there again, and he was truly glad to see it.

  “Thank you, Tyler…I think we’re all glad about that.” The answer could have come from anyone present, but Clint Winters spoke first. “Am I correct in assuming that the Highborn remain unaffected by the virus?”

  Barron had expected the question, but perhaps not so soon. He realized it was the only thing on everyone’s mind, but his lack of any kind of positive response only wore him down farther. “No, I’m afraid not. They are almost healed of their conventional wounds, but there is no sign of any…effect.” He thought about saying a lot of other things, ‘there’s still time’ and ‘I told you it wouldn’t work’ among them. But he just remained quiet.

  “So, what do we do now?” Vian Tulus spoke, second rather than first as Barron had expected. The question could have been harsh, cold…but it wasn’t at all. Tulus was Tyler’s brother, at least in Alliance terms, and there was kindness in the words, even as close as a Palatian could come to softness.

  “I honestly don’t know…” That wasn’t entirely true. Barron had been waiting to hear from Andi, but now that she was back, he was running out of time. He didn’t believe he could win no matter what he did, but he knew he was going to try. And the delayed action by the enemy could end at any time. “…but I think we have to withdraw. We discussed a phase three operation, spreading more of the virus among the enemy, but we don’t have enough of it yet anyway, and, well…” He didn’t want to say ‘it didn’t work,’ even though that was what he believed. “…and I don’t think we have the time to wait.”

  Tyler paused, just for a couple seconds, and then he continued, “But Akella is still with the Council…and that leaves you here in command of the Hegemony, Chronos. What will you do if the rest of us withdraw? You have to realize you have no chance, none at all, alone.”

  Chronos looked as though he knew the question was coming…but also like he still didn’t know the answer. “I would retreat with you, Tyler…regardless of the orders from the Council…but without Akella…” He paused. Everyone knew why that would be difficult for Chronos, but Tyler knew the whole truth, the fact that the two had been carrying on an illegal—at least by Hegemony terms—relationship for years now. Asking Chronos to leave—to abandon Akella—was much more difficult than most of those present realized. And if he did leave her behind, he would only hurt her ability to negotiate, perhaps even allow her opponents to utterly prevail…assuming she had any chance of success.

  He would get less of the fleet to follow him, too. Half, Tyler guessed, but if Akella was there, he was sure they would get close to three-quarters. It would be a combination of both of their abilities…as well as the fact that two Council members, instead of one, carried a lot more weight.

  Chronos still looked uncertain…but also that he knew he had to answer. He waited another few seconds, and then he said, “I will go with you, Tyler, with whatever portion of the fleet will follow me…in two weeks.”

  Tyler looked at his Hegemony associate. He knew the two weeks had been a random effort, a prayer basically, that Akella succeeded in that amount of time…but it was more than Chronos had anticipated. Still, it wasn’t really long, and Barron knew it wasn’t. But anymore was asking the enemy to move forward, to engage his fleet where it was.

  “Two weeks?” He looked around the table, mostly searching for any expressions that told him someone had a major problem. He saw a few people with somewhat doubtful looks on their faces…but no one who looked like they had a major problem. “Very well, Chronos…we will prepare to depart, but we will remain in place for two weeks longer. If Akella returns…that is great. But if she doesn’t…” He didn’t say anything further. He didn’t have to.

  * * *

  Akella sat at the end of the table. She’d been arguing for weeks now, discussing options with every Council member she thought might vote with her. She’d made some progress, but not enough, and she believed she was still going to lose.

  But she was out of time now. The fleet had decided to withdraw, in two weeks. She only knew about it courtesy of Chronos—and Tyler, she guessed—sending one of the experimental, high speed craft to tell her. Still, the trip took five days, and the return would take as long. That left her four days if she was going to withdraw, a bit less if she was going to have time to argue with fleet commanders about a split.

  Assuming the Council let her go if she lost, which was at best a 50/50 chance.

  “I have been here for two months now, and we have discussed this matter endlessly. But I have just received word that Admiral Barron had decided to pull back to Confederation space…immediately. That makes a decision crucial. Now.”

  She hadn’t been sure exactly what she was going to say, but even as the words emerged, she realized it was the only choice. She didn’t have time left to discuss individually with people, to work Council members. She had to have a decision now, and if it went against her, even if it resulted in her removal from the Council, so be it.

  For that matter, even if the Council imprisoned her…she was glad that Chronos would, at least, get away. For now.

  She noticed shock among most of the members of the Council, as though they had thought about the current problem, but only in vague terms. It struck her, in more precise ways than it had before, just how removed from reality her people were, the leaders at least.

  She heard several of those present beginning to talk, but she didn’t listen. She just spoke up again, her voice loud and driving. “Just so you know what that means, the Confederation, which constitutes fifty-nine percent of our combined forces at present, will pull all its ships back. The Alliance, thirteen percent of our total hulls, will also withdraw. The various smaller groupings, approximately two percent of our total, will also withdraw. That leaves us…and whatever you may think of our position in the hierarchy, we constitute roughly twenty-six percent of the hulls currently in the total force. That’s barely a quarter. Of that portion, I intend to take any ships that will come with me. If you hold me here, try to pressure me in any way, Chronos will do what I would have done…and he will draw off at the very least, half the forces. That leaves you all, at best, thirteen percent of the current combined strength we have—all of which is insufficient, much less thirteen percent. I understand the pride surging up from you, but you have to accept—you have to—that this is no longer the case. Half our nation is occupied, our capital included, and our allies, the Confederation, have exceeded even our most fervent expectations on the production of new ships.” There was real venom in her words, and she realized, even as she spoke, that she was angry, enraged. “They are, in every way, the primary part of our force now, and pretending anything else—or imagining that they will not turn back without us—is stupid and foolish. If you are distraught at the situation, beaten back by how battered we have become, I am with you. But if you refuse to accept this, if you continue to pretend that you still control the total forces on our side…well, then I am done with you. Let me go, and I will try to take as many ships as I can. Hold me, and Chronos will do the same thing. Now is the time, to make a decision, a real decision.”

  Akella stared at the people clustered around the table, and she saw the shock on their faces at her words, delivered more harshly than she’d ever spoken to them before. She was energized, if that was the right word, because she didn’t really care…whether they agreed or not, whether they let her go or held her behind. None of it mattered, not really. All she was risking, probably, was another year or two…a time that would see all the forces slowly destroyed…unless the desperate plan actually worked. But she was done with all of that, finished with hoping against hope. She’d thrown everything she had into the mix, and now it was time to see if that had been enough…or if the Council was against her.

  “So, let’s vote,” she said. “Let’s vote now.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  CWS Donallus

  Vela Tracasys System

  Year 329 AC (After the Cataclysm)

  Andi stood, stone still, watching the three Highborn prisoners. At one time, capturing three of the enemy would have been a tremendous success, all on its own. But right now, she wanted only one thing from the prisoners…some sign that they were infected, that they would die. And there was nothing.

  She stared, looking for anything that told her, even suggested, that her efforts had been for something. But she saw nothing.

  She had forced herself to believe in the serum, if only because she’d been utterly convinced there was no other way. But day by day, she saw nothing. The two injured prisoners recuperated, far more quickly than a normal human would have, but there was no sign at all of the disease, the hope she had that the prisoners had been infected.

  She knew there were a number of possibilities. Perhaps the calculations were wrong. She thought they had infected all targeted worlds completely, but maybe they had miscalculated. Perhaps they hadn’t used enough of the virus, at least not enough to infect the three prisoners she had.

  She told herself that, tried to come up with ways the plan could have worked—at least partially—without infecting the three prisoners. But she was gradually running out of hope.

  “Andi…”

  She heard Tyler Barron. He had slipped into the room, without her notice. She was glad to hear his voice, happy he was there. At least as close to happy as she could become. She turned to face him. “Tyler…” She had intended to say more, but nothing else came. She moved toward him, put her face against his shoulder. But she didn’t say anything else.

  “Andi…I know you’ve been down here, almost every waking hour. You’ve got to stop. You know I’ve never been a big believer in the virus scheme…but you have been. And I’m telling you now, there is still time. But you can’t spend every minute watching these three…especially since they are being observed around the clock. Even if you spot the first change in them, you’ll only find out a few minutes ahead of when you will anyway. Come…with me. We’ll be moving out in three days, but right now, I’ve got some time.”

  Andi smiled, for a few seconds. She knew Tyler didn’t really have the time. But she was also aware that any moment together could be their last. He had put together a plan, devised a retreat order, created a way to hit the enemy at the former location of Fortress Grimaldi. It was a way, a plan to sneak away from the enemy present three systems from him, and to descend on the smaller force, before the enemy could respond with their main fleet.

  It wouldn’t change anything, she knew that…other than maybe extending the time they had left six months or a year. But she knew, just then, that they were working for weeks and months at a time. Maybe someone would come up with a plan, perhaps even hers would work, albeit a bit later than she’d expected. Hell, the enemy was fighting someone else, some power she didn’t even know about. Perhaps that war would flare up, interfere in the one she was fighting. She knew she was grasping at straws, but she wondered what the status was on that fight, if the enemy’s foe would be hers as well…or an ally.

  She looked at Tyler, thinking about Cassie, as she always did when Barron was around—and most of the time when he wasn’t. She even smiled, though just for a couple seconds. “Okay, Tyler…you’re right. Let’s go, let’s…pass the time.”

  She reached out an took his hand, and the two of them walked slowly away, both of them overburdened with concerns, but for the moment, reaching out, grabbing ahold of some kind of hope.

  * * *

  Sonya Eaton leaned over the precipice, looking down at her legion of engineers. The work on Colossus went on, whether the ship was static or moving. There were hundreds of service personnel beyond the large force of permanent crew, and they were working around the clock. Colossus was the largest ship on either side, and Eaton knew how important it was to get her vessel as up and running as possible…quickly.

  She was tired, no question, having spent at least eighteen hours a day on duty for…almost as long as she could remember. She knew there wasn’t much hope, and what she did have was based on the alternate plan and not on a straight up fight. She hadn’t given up on that, not completely at least, but she knew whatever happened, her ship was going to be needed. If the scheme actually turned out to work, and if it spread the disease to some of the enemy’s ships, she knew it wouldn’t do the job completely. She only hoped that it would bring the enemy down, reduce their force to something small enough to defeat.

  Mostly, she was just on autopilot, though, working on her ship, trying to get it ready for…whatever. If that was something that offered a chance of success, that much the better…but even if it was a hopeless fight, she intended to take down as many enemy ships as possible before they destroyed her.

  Her eyes moved to the small display, and she saw Dauntless on the screen, along with several hundred other ships. She knew her future—the future of all of them—rested on what was on that ship. She had to fight off her growing doubts, but she still had some hope that the virus would work, that it would give her side at least a chance. Whether that was realistic, or just the only way she could imagine success, she didn’t know…and it didn’t matter. One thing she was sure of, Colossus would do its part, whether there was a chance of ultimate victory or not.

  That she would make sure of.

  She turned and looked back down at the crew, and she yelled out. “No…not there. Pick that up, and bring it over there.” She gestured for a few seconds, but then she decided she needed to go down, to show them exactly what she was talking about.

  Colossus would probably be destroyed in the coming fight, whether her side won or lost. She had more or less made peace with that…but she was going to do everything she possibly could to make sure her ship was as ready as possible.

  Ready for whatever.

  * * *

  Vian Tulus sat on the bridge of his flagship, deep in his own thoughts. He’d been away from the ship for a while, with one of the cruisers in his force. He’d brought back fewer than forty percent of his ships, the lowest of the four commands, save only Andi’s…and she had lost more than half of what she had on the final stop. He knew part of that was just bad luck—and part was the inferior quality of his ships—but now he was just glad his vessels had succeeded, that they had completed their mission.