Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Turmoil (4 page)

"Not at all,
Commander," Bak replied.  "But I do ask you to keep your eyes and
ears open.  There are a lot of dots out here to connect, but sooner or later
they'll all form a picture.  I'm just not sure what that picture will look like
or if it will be bad for the Confederation.  This trip to Lemuria could be a
fool's errand, or it could open our eyes to something new.  Something's going
on back on Delos, and we need to figure out what it is."  He paused for
effect, than added one more bombshell to the mix.  "Were you aware that a
Confederation planet seceded two days ago?"

The look on their
faces said they weren't.

"It was a
relatively insignificant planet; I don't even remember the name.  But they made
a formal statement as they announced their departure on the floor of the
Senate.  They claimed inordinate taxes, lack of anything Confed had promised
since the war began, an attempted government takeover of several key
industries, and ever-restrictive rules on the trade they could have with other
parties.  Now, the Confederation constitution makes it easy enough for a planet
to secede; it puts the burden on Confed to make planets
want
to be a
part of it.  And now, at least one planet has voted to leave.  This all goes to
the questionable decisions coming out of Delos these days."

Elco gave a heavy
sigh and stared out the large windows at the rear of the briefing room. 
"This is just what we need," he said softly.  "Confed falls
apart-"

"Or experiences
a civil war," Bak added.

"Thank you for
that picture, Admiral," Elco concluded.  "We can't defeat the Primans
if we break apart on our own."

"Precisely,"
Bak agreed.  "I need to you do your best with the Lemurians, gentlemen. 
We're going to need all the friends we can get; we've already alienated the
Talarans and can't afford to lose any more potential allies."

As if rampaging
aliens with a god-complex weren't enough,
Loren thought. 
I should have
been a hovercar mechanic
.

Representative
Ravine stood on the bridge of the warship Scythe, hands clasped behind her back
as she observed the captain giving orders to her small flotilla.  She had
wasted no time and had left the very next morning for the first planet on the
Commander's list of targets.  While the ship's captain was in charge of the
assault, she was in charge of the overall operation, and was within her rights
to give him orders on how to proceed.  Being short on actual combat experience,
however, she had taken a backseat to the captain and let him set up the order
of battle.

It had greased the
wheels and ingratiated herself to the captain when she had  admitted she was
short on field experience and would be happy to observe and learn from him,
taking any advice and pointers he had to offer.  She had seen members of her
own family be unable to swallow their pride and accept that there was something
they didn't know how to do; she found people were much more giving of their
advice and expertise when she offered herself as an eager student.  There was
no shame in not being adept at a skill at first; it was only a problem if one
didn't take steps to rectify that problem.

That brought her
here, to the captain's side as his division of a dozen heavy cruisers
approached the planet Carline.  They were one of the dozens of independent
systems that peppered the border area between the Confeds, Talarans, and former
Enkarran Empire.  Their lonesome status had spared them the Primans attention
early on, but now they were just loose ends that needed to be tied up.  While
they didn't present a significant threat, they were well positioned to attack
the flanks and supply lines of the progressing Priman navy.

"We're in
position, Representative," Captain Vol began as he turned his chair to
face her.  "Five cruisers near the northern pole, five along the southern,
and two of us sitting back as theater reserve.  Ready to broadcast when you
are."

"Thank you,
Captain," Ravine replied graciously.  This captain had been a model of
efficiency and effort during the trip, and if he did well today she would have
to include him on her growing list of people she would bring with her one day
when her status improved.  Ambition was something anyone could have; being able
to make those ambitions happen was what separated an underling from a leader. 
Perhaps one day when she was Commander, Captain Vol would lead her fleets for
her if he continued to do well.

Ravine took a few
steps to a bridge console along the starboard side of the bridge and tapped a
key, activating the audio pickup which would broadcast her transmission.

"People of the
planet Carline," she started, voice strong and commanding.  "This is
the Priman warship Scythe. We are here to discuss the terms of your surrender
to our authority.  Respond within one minute or we will assume you are hostile
and react accordingly."

Captain Vol showed a
wolfish grin as he looked at the displays at the front of the bridge.  It
showed the planet below them, which only sported a dozen or so major cities. 
His ten cruisers in low orbit were high enough that they could cover all the
cities on the planet with their guns.  Anything unexpected would be dealt with
by his ship and her escort.

"Incoming
transmission, Captain," stated the communications officer behind the
captain.

If Ravine didn't
know better, she'd have thought Captain Vol looked disappointed that they were
receiving a reply.  He looked at Ravine and nodded, her cue to speak in his
stead.

"This is
Representative Ravine; I'm listening."

A video feed
appeared on the display at Ravine's station.  "This is Governor
Dorcot," the being said from what looked to be a private office of some
sort.  Ravine recognized him as a Qualin, one of the founding member species of
the Confederation.  They were among the many species whose evolution the
Primans had nudged all those ages ago, more reptilian than mammal in origin but
with tough skin and warm blood  instead of scales, thanks to her ancestors. 
Would the species in this part of the galaxy just admit they'd been done a good
turn by the Primans and accept their rule?

"You appear to
be in a position of hostile intent," the Governor continued.  "We are
unaligned and neutral."

"We realize
your status, Governor," Ravine said smoothly, "but the time has come
to formalize your relationship with us.  We present two options: surrender and
integrate within our structure, or be attacked until you are no longer a
threat, in which case we will still integrate what remains of your
infrastructure into our forces."

"You'll find
the people of this planet are independent and stubborn," the Qualin
replied darkly.  "You might want to reconsider."

"Yes, or
no?" Ravine asked, growing tired with the verbal sparring.

"No."  The
Governor cut the connection.

"It appears
your people will get some action today, Captain Vol," Ravine purred.

No sooner had she
said it than the combat officer asked for Captain Vol's attention. 
"Captain," she began, "I count almost three dozen ships heading
for us; some rising from the surface and others launching from the second moon
of Carline.

Vol just nodded
distractedly as he studied the telemetry on his display.  He looked at Ravine
and nodded to the board, indicating she was welcome to observe.

Ravine walked over
and gave the data a once-over.  There were about a dozen ships lifting from the
surface and an even two dozen accelerating at max power from the moon, both
groups set to converge right in the middle of Captain Vol's groups of ships.

"Anything to
worry about, Captain?" she asked.

"While you must
always give an enemy credit and not take victory for granted, this battle is
lopsided."  He looked at her curious expression and continued.  "They
outnumber us three to one, but their ships are almost exclusively civilian vessels
fitted with upgraded technology."  He pointed to a random ship in the
group heading up from the planet's surface.  "You see that ship?  It's a
merchant transport.  Scans show four relatively powerful laser batteries and a
shield generator."  He started manipulating the display with his hands,
grabbing and swiping parts of the ship.  "You can see, though, that our
computers can scan the inner workings of the ship very effectively.  Those four
lasers are all fed by one massive power run, as are the shields.  Their engines
appear to be stock, which means there's almost no way they could feed the
engines, shields, and guns at the same time.  They can probably fire two at a
time at best, and only until their shields start to drain and require more
reactor power.  They have no redundant systems or internal armor belt.  In
short, they look menacing, but one or two solid blows and they're dead in
space."

"So we stay
grouped together where our shields can overlap for support and concentrate fire
on one ship at a time?" Ravine guessed.

"Exactly,"
Vol responded, the satisfied look of a proud teacher on his face.  "Our
units are combat tested and disciplined.  Observe."  He turned to his
communications officer.  "Order the north group to attack the ships from
the surface.  Take them down before they break atmosphere if they can.   Then
order the southern group to form a line astern formation and head for the group
coming from the moon.  Have them run down the flank of the enemy formation and
concentrate all fire on one ship at a time.  The enemy will lose two or three
on the first pass alone, and I'll bet you a week's rations that the enemy's
fire control is poorly coordinated."

"You seem
confident," Ravine observed as she settled into her customary position
next to the captain's chair.

"I can be
confident, as long as I don't get complacent," Vol replied.

They both watched
the displays as the battle unfolded.  The Priman ships, teardrop shaped and
smooth with the occasional bump or blister where weapons were located and
sporting almost a mirrored finish, expertly formed up by group.  The northern
group aligned themselves in a nose-to-tail line perpendicular to the ships
rising to meet them from Carline's surface, presenting their broadside guns and
therefore greatest number of weapons batteries toward the oncoming enemy.  It
was a classic naval maneuver called 'crossing the T'.  The inbound ships were
pointing their noses at the Priman vessels, which restricted the number of guns
they could bear on the enemy.  The Primans, on the other hand, could bring many
forward and aft weapons, as well as all the broadside batteries, to fire on the
Carline defenders.

The southern group
had already accelerated towards the moon, line astern as ordered.  Their drives
burned brightly as they accelerated as fast as they could, forming up to make a
run down the port flank of the oncoming vessels.

The results were
predictable.  The ships from the surface were decimated and one by one fell out
of formation in flames, falling back to the planet's surface while shedding
parts and escape pods.  Only two managed to make it into orbit, and they only
scored a handful of hits on the Priman cruisers before they became silently
expanding balls of oxygen, drive plasma, and hot gases.  Captain Vol ordered
the northern five ships to join the southern force as they dueled with the two
dozen enemy ships that had come from the moon.

"Communications,"
Captain Vol snapped, "find me the source of the Governor's
transmission."

The tech only spent
a few seconds tweaking the data from his terminal before announcing he'd found
it.  A blinking light appeared on the surface of the overhead-view map to mark
the position.

"Excellent,"
said Vol.  He turned his head to Representative Ravine.  "Would you care
to do the honors?"

Ravine tried to keep
her composure at the suggestion as she gave a regal nod to the captain.  All
that power and destruction at her command?  It was exhilarating. 
"Weapons," she began, proud of herself for maintaining a steady
voice, "bombard that position.  Take it at least fifty feet below street
level and then scan for underground structures we may have missed."

The weapons tech
complied and Ravine saw bright streaks of laser fire ripping from the front of
her ship to the surface.  The video feed was soon filled with blossoming
explosions at ground level, and soon so much dirt and debris was kicked up that
the video feed was useless.  The weapons tech shifted to a composite image
combining thermal, LIDAR, and triangulation-based imaging to provide an almost real-life
image for the displays.  It showed the impacts, but not the debris that
obscured the naked eye.  The building that had once occupied that location was
no more, and after only a minute or so bombardment ceased.

"People of
Carline," Ravine said into the audio pickups again.  "Your message
was received and you have seen our response.  We'll call you shortly to resume
our talks after we finish off your patchwork navy."

She was happy with
her effort; confident but not gloating.  She looked at Captain Vol, seated in
his chair and exuding a commanding presence.  "You're free to move however
you like, Captain," she offered.

"Thank you,
Representative," he replied.  He addressed the communications officer
again.  "It's time to commit the reserves.  Have the Torment leave us and
assume formation with the rest of our units.  We'll stay here and cover the
planet's surface on this side by ourselves."

The battle was
woefully one-sided.  The experienced Priman ships slashed across the loose
formation of enemy defenders, culling their numbers on every pass.  Their
advantage in sensor and detection technology, something the Confederation navy
had learned to adjust for, stymied the fire control computers of the Carline
defenders.  Only at the end did some of the defender ships attempt to
coordinate their own fire manually, but it was too little, too late.  The
coalition of private vessels, armed merchantmen, and three ancient frigates
that were only in orbit for lifeguard duty were the extent of the defenses that
Carline could put up.  Captain Vol did lose one cruiser with all hands in a
rare uncontained reactor meltdown and several others were damaged, but overall
it was a rousing success for the Primans; a planet in exchange for one ship.