SYSTEM: STAGING GROUND

  DATE: 2405

  It had taken a few months, but the armada had arrived at the system they named Staging Ground to collect the last of the stragglers from human space.

  Thesska was in a wonderful mood despite having been forced to retreat from human space. He had just finished purging the commanders who had failed to return to the armada when he ordered them to. Most had been aware of what awaited them when they rejoined the armada, but they could not refuse an imperial edict without casting their entire clan into exile.

  The only thing he admired about those pathetic commanders was the fact that none had turned down the invitation to meet aboard his flagship, and they actually fought for their lives.

  They all fell, but the orgy of violence that followed was exquisite and did wonders to quell the bloodlust that had been growing within his crew ever since his people had been denied their hunt. New commanders were placed aboard those vessels, giving him far more control over the now disgraced clan members aboard. They balked at the transition, but they were far too cowardly to do anything against his orders. When he became emperor, and after the hunt was complete, he would purge those weak clans. For now, he needed them.

  Now that everything was firmly in his control, it was time to head home and deal with his incompetent brother.

  After sitting for a few weeks to wait for the last of the stragglers, the fleet was finally maneuvering into place to jump when a high-priority message arrived. He ordered the fleet to stand by while he took the call in his office.

  “What?” he growled as the video flickered to life.

  Thesska was surprised to see his uncle on the other end of the line, but that didn’t mean he was happy about seeing the man’s face.

  His uncle nodded slightly in deference, but that was the only sign of respect he gave. Thesska narrowed his eyes at the slight.

  “Grand Commander, there have been some recent developments I think you should be aware of.”

  “Such as?” Thesska demanded.

  His uncle was better than most of the mewling twits that orbited his brother, but he was still a politician.

  “Do you recall that imperial mandate that went out?”

  As if he could forget. “Get to the point, Uncle.”

  “It didn’t just go out to your fleet. It went out to the entire empire.”

  Thesska wasn’t surprised. His brother always loved his attention. “What of it?”

  “A mandate like that should have only gone out to the forces inside the empire’s borders. Your brother was vain, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that a fleet that was a hundred light-years away could return to assist in any reasonable amount of time. That, along with the destruction of the stronghold on the throne world and everything within half a mile, made me suspicious, so I had my people dig deeper. What they found made my blood boil, and I had to acquire a new maid after venting my ire on the previous one.”

  Thesska’s annoyance was quickly turning to glee as understanding dawned. He made sure to school his expression, however.

  His uncle continued. “I was able to determine that your brother did not send the message that went out. It was a falsified recording sent by one of his sycophantic followers. Either your brother died in the initial attack, which seems likely given the amount of destruction, or he is so heavily wounded that recovery will take years. When I discovered the perpetrators, they were already working feverishly to create a clone of your brother. We put a stop to that and destroyed all the unauthorized cloning equipment. With that evidence and the information I gathered, I called a general assembly. Presented with that information and the current mood of the empire after the human attack, it was easy to get them to vote.”

  “Vote for what?” Thesska asked eagerly. He had a pretty good idea what subject his uncle was dancing around, but he needed to hear it.

  The video window expanded. His uncle dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “We serve you, Emperor Thesska.”

  Thesska couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up at the news. He let it go for a few seconds before suppressing that part of his mind with his implant.

  “Recall the imperial mandate, I want every available ship to meet at the staging ground as quickly as possible. Increase the production of clones and make sure every shipyard is on maximum output. I suspect the humans are using thinking computers. If I’m correct, we will need more ships.”

  If his uncle was surprised by that statement, he didn’t show it.

  “And you, Emperor?” his uncle asked.

  “With the clan ships back, the armada is at about half the strength it was when it first arrived in the human territory. Normally, I would wait for the reinforcements, but if I’m right, I can’t wait for the reinforcements to arrive. It’s bad enough that my brother’s recall will have allowed the humans four months to reinforce their defenses. I would have ignored the imperial mandate if that had been an option, but it wasn’t. I’ll be returning to human space to purge as many worlds as possible with our dwindling supplies until I believe we cannot proceed. Then I will take whatever forces I have remaining and regroup with the reinforcements.”

  “Your orders will be carried out, Emperor.” His uncle began to stand, but Thesska wasn’t done.

  He leaned forward in his office chair and pierced the man with his glare. “Uncle, I want every single clan head who voted against this change killed, and their clans exiled. If they want to be part of my empire, they will need to earn that right. I will not allow the clans to pander to me like they have my weak-willed brother.”

  His uncle smiled at that. “It is good to see the empire return to its former glory.”

  Thesska ended the call and finally let the satisfaction he felt show on his face. “Well, brother, alive or dead, you finally did one thing right: you saved me the time and effort of having to kill you myself.”

  He took a moment to bask in the glory of his new position before once again donning the visage of the Grand Admiral. He would be sending out a fleet-wide alert of the change. He wished he could use the imperial mandate system, as that would add legitimacy to his order, but that was only available from the throne world.

  ***

  LOCATION: EDEN’S END

  SYSTEM: UNOKANE

  DATE: 2405

  “What do you mean, they’ve turned around?” Alexander asked in horror.

  “The scouts reported that the enemy armada spent a few weeks at their former staging system waiting for stragglers. It seemed like they were about ready to head back to Shican space, but then they simply reversed course and jumped back toward us,” Krieger confirmed.

  When the Shican departed after the EFEC strikes, Alexander had hoped it would be the last he saw of them for at least a year. They even tracked their departure using scout ships and satellites to make sure the enemy armada was actually leaving, but now he was being told something different.

  Alexander wasn’t prepared for the enemy to turn around and come back so soon, but he hadn’t been idle for the last few months either. Only three of the twelve EFEC Swordfish had survived his original plan to strike multiple Shican worlds. The first strike had been a success, but the second was a disaster, with the ships not even managing a single strike before being forced to flee.

  After losing so many so quickly, he had them retreat and repair. After their repairs, they were assigned to look for the enemy staging grounds along with other important military targets. After realizing that using the EFEC Swordfish to strike planetary targets wasn’t viable without committing far more ships to the effort, they became the primary scouts inside the enemy’s border. It was a role they excelled at, and he received confirmation only a week ago that they finally located two staging grounds within Shican territory.

  He planned on briefing Krieger on that after the meeting, when he discussed the new weapon system.

  “How long until they reach our forces?” Alexander asked. He knew that efforts to evacuate certain planets along the Shican’s last attack path had been ongoing, even after they withdrew, so he wasn’t sure where the front line was anymore.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Three months, maybe,” Katalynn confirmed over the comm call. “I’ve already started preparations to get our fleets in position to intercept them, but we’ve barely had time to fix the vessels that were damaged during our last encounter, let alone replace losses. A few more destroyers are joining the fleet, but that’s not going to be enough.”

  “What about the STO?” Krieger asked. “The Grand Admiral seems fixated on driving through Union territory, but we should know their avenue of advance for sure shortly. A coordinated strike between the Union forces and theirs might be enough.”

  “Can they even get here in time?” Alexander asked despite Katalynn’s sour expression at Krieger’s suggestion of working directly with the STO.

  “Normally, no,” Krieger confirmed, “but if we provide them with crash pods and a ring gate, we could ensure they are where they need to be when the time comes.”

  Alexander had been holding off on informing the STO about the ring gate technology because both sides had been preoccupied defending their own space, and the STO would not have been able to assist the Union. Would it have helped them in their own war efforts if they knew about the gates? Maybe, maybe not. Based on the Order’s reports, the STO had barely even managed to implement the previous technological advancements that he had provided for them.

  Access to the gates would have given them more mobility, that was for certain, but the STO fleets were not as agile, for lack of a better word, as the Union fleets or BSEs. They required approval from the Chairman before they could be deployed, then the admiral in charge of that sector of space needed to work with the other admirals to move forces from one sector to another. Bureaucracy at its finest, even during a war. That whole process might have been streamlined with the war, but they were still ponderous and slow to act.

  The other thing he had to consider was that the crash pod technology was essentially the same method used in the energized armor, which he had been hoping to keep secret for much longer. After thinking about it for a moment, Alexander decided that having additional ships outweighed the risk of exposing that technology to the STO. Knowledge of its existence would make its way to the STO at some point, so protecting it now seemed silly. That being said, it all depended on how the meeting went.

  “I’ll speak with the STO,” Alexander replied.

  Getting an actual ring ship into STO space would be easy. He had three ready to go, all equipped with the new Nova drives. He suspected getting them to agree to help would be more difficult. They had a standing alliance until the war was complete, but the STO may already see that as done now that the Shican had withdrawn. Hopefully, they weren’t that na?ve, but he would find out shortly.

  Alexander decided to switch topics. He looked at Katalynn. “How many ships do you have, and how long would it take your fleet to reach Unokane?”

  She quirked her brow at the question, but thought about it. “I have three hundred and fifty-six vessels in my fleet. As for your second question, with the current gate placement, a week. Why?”

  That would give Alexander just over two months to outfit as many of Katalynn’s ships with the new Nova drive as possible. He ran the math in his head, and it would be tight, but he thought he could pull it off. The BSE fleet had already been upgraded to include the Nova drive, so he didn’t need to worry about those.

  “I think it’s time for an upgrade. I’ve finally finished the new FTL drive system I’ve been working on for the last few years.”

  “The one that the gate is based on?” she asked.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  Katalynn didn’t agree right away. It seemed she, too, was running the numbers in her head. “From what I understand, the gates require an enormous amount of energy. I assume this means a new reactor would need to be fitted as well?”

  Alexander nodded. “I already figured that into my schedule.”

  She gave a single nod of understanding, then continued. “There is no point outfitting the older, smaller ships with the new drive or reactor. Those vessels are destined for replacement or retirement as soon as a new vessel can be completed to replace them. They aren’t much use in a battle against the Shican anyway, since they aren’t capable of being outfitted with newer weapons systems. I’ll reach out to Jarl Bergson to see if she can send some capital ships that could use the upgrades instead. She’s been asking about you since your little transformation.”

  Alexander coughed at that. “She has?”

  A slight smirk appeared on the Asgardian leader’s face before vanishing just as quickly. “Indeed.”

  Alexander didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t had that conversation with Rush yet, and he certainly wasn’t nearly ready for a relationship, let alone one with someone as aggressively spirited as Ylva Bergson.

  Those thoughts could wait until later. He mentally adjusted the math in his head based on the number of capital ships that he knew were in each fleet. After a bit of calculation, he realized it would take less than a month to upgrade the vessels if he excluded the older ones.

  He thanked Katalynn for attending the meeting, and once she signed off, he turned to Krieger, who was sitting across the desk from him.

  “Do you think the STO will agree to help?” the admiral asked.

  “I should be asking you that,” Alexander chuckled. “I think they will, especially if I dangle the gate technology in front of them. That alone will make up for the loss of the hypergates.” He chose to keep the pessimistic thoughts from earlier to himself.

  “You’re probably right,” the man admitted. “So, what else did you want to discuss? I assume you didn’t call me away from my ship just for this little chat.”

  “You would be correct,” Alexander replied.

  He activated the security measures in his office and turned to Krieger. “What I’m about to tell you, only one other individual knows about, other than me. And even that person only knows the basics. Two, if you count Lucas’s uninformed guesses.”

  Krieger smiled at that last part, but nodded in understanding. “Not a word of this conversation will leave my lips.”

  “Since I returned, I’ve been building a secret manufacturing facility. It’s been churning out a few specialized automated vessels, which will be joining your fleet shortly.”

  The man quirked an eyebrow. “Specialized? Like the EFEC Swordfish?”

  “The vessels are EFEC swordfish, but they are carrying a new weapon I developed. One that should only be deployed in certain circumstances.”

  “Another weapon system? Given how secretive you are being about this development, can I assume it is even more dangerous than the enhanced field effect cannon? Should I be worried?” Krieger asked.

  “While you’re not wrong, the weapon is inert until it is activated. Honestly, it’s probably safer than transporting a standard missile since there is no worry about it activating until you want it to or detonating by accident.” He threw the schematic up on the small holo on his desk, and Krieger leaned forward to examine the missile.

  The man was no engineer, but he knew enough about ships to recognize the gravity plates hidden inside the warhead.

  “I don’t quite understand. It looks like a series of gravity plates. My first assumption is that you rigged up missiles to fire gravity traps, but that’s redundant and wouldn’t explain the secrecy. What’s its purpose?”

  “You’re essentially correct. It is a mobile gravity trap, one where the transmission plates are located near a celestial body with significantly higher gravity. Once the missile is launched, they signal the plates to descend closer to the gravity source until the missile reaches its destination. Then the plates will activate—”

  “—And the gravity will flood through,” Krieger finished quietly.

  “Basically. The gravitational pull won’t cover as large an area as a gravity trap, because the device will destroy itself a fraction of a second after it activates, but it will still cover a significant area. Are you familiar with the largest nuclear weapon in human history?”

  Krieger thought for a moment. “My history isn’t the greatest, but I recall some mention of fifty megatons?”

  “You would be correct. If the gravity bomb were a conventional nuclear weapon, it would have a yield measured in hundreds of gigatons, not megatons. There really isn’t any other form of measurement for such a weapon, so I hope that gives you a general understanding of what they are capable of.”

  Krieger’s eyes widened at that. “You’re joking!”

  “I wish I were,” Alexander admitted. “Do you understand why I’ve been so secretive about this project?”

  “I do. I almost wish I didn’t need to know. How many of these weapons will these Swordfish have?”

  “Each is carrying two of the weapons, and your fleet will be receiving three of the ships, so six gravity bombs in total to start. I wish I could tell you not to use them, but I trust you to deploy them as you see fit.”

  Krieger nodded. “Is that all?”

  “No,” Alexander admitted. He flicked to the other project. It sat next to a rendering of a Swordfish for scale.

  Krieger went white at seeing the much larger weapon. “I can understand what the missiles might be useful for, but assuming the destructive potential scales with size, what the hell do you plan on doing with that?”

  “Those,” Alexander corrected. “I’ve built seventy of these devices, and they have already been deployed to Shican space.”

  The man looked shocked. “You’re going to wipe them out?”

  “I wish it were that easy. You saw the reports. These devices will slow the Shican down, but it won’t be enough to eliminate them for good. At best, seventy of their systems will simply cease to have life in them after I deploy the devices. That’s assuming I detonate them in the local stars, which I don’t plan on doing for most of their systems.”

  “Alex, I understand that we need to eliminate their production capabilities, but this seems excessive. Wouldn’t strike teams of EFEC Swordfish with the smaller gravity missiles do the same thing?”

  “I agree that these actions are excessive, which is why I took on the burden of making such a choice. I also wish surgical strikes were still on the table. The fact is that the Shican already have all the knowledge required to build a similar weapon. What do you think they will do when we start deploying smaller strike teams with gravity bombs?”

  Krieger paused to consider it for a moment, and his face went ashen. “They would quickly figure out what we did and expedite any creation of similar weapons to deploy against humanity.”

  Alexander nodded. “They have a larger empire, more production capacity by far, and a technological advantage that we have yet to overcome. If even a fraction of that effort were turned toward building gravity bombs, they would quickly overwhelm any opposition we would be capable of assembling. For all I know, they may already have people working on a gravity-based weapon.”

  Krieger looked alarmed by the prospect that the Shican could already have such weapons.

  Alexander continued. “As much as I would like to, I don’t plan on eradicating the aliens.”

  He feared that if he did more than he needed to do to end the war once and for all, he would lose all support from Rush, Four, and Thirteen. Four specifically seemed convinced that the aliens could change. There was also the possibility that the Collective would return without the Shican to act as a boogieman. After the siblings had their little falling out, he couldn’t say what the remaining AI might do.

  “My goal will be to destroy their technological base until the Shican are no longer capable of space flight. Once that is done, we will track down as many of their fleet assets as possible and monitor their remaining worlds to ensure they never reach the stars again. It’s a draconian measure, but it’s a better ending than they had planned for us or that they deserve. It’s also the only one that will likely end the threat they pose. You just have to look at how quickly they changed their minds after the EFEC strikes to see that they will not give up until they are made to.”

  Krieger sat back in his chair with a tired sigh. “I know. I just wish such measures weren’t required.”

  “Me too,” Alexander replied quietly.

  Four thought the Shican could change for the better, but Alexander wasn’t so sure. Maybe carving their empire up into disconnected worlds would finally allow them to move away from their violent past. Time would tell. And if not, he would complete the job he started. The only thing that mattered in the end was that the people he cared for were protected.

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